Chapter 20: The Ministry's Wrath
The Iago Tower dormitory glowed with the fading warmth of victory, cedar smoke curling from the hearth, mingling with the faint scent of ink and wax from scattered parchments. The air shifted, heavy as a storm cloud, when a massive owl, its feathers dark as soot, swooped through the arched window, its talons clutching a parchment sealed with black wax, the Ministry crest gleaming like a cold, unblinking eye. Its piercing cry sliced through the room, scattering quills and rattling a chipped goblet on the scarred table, its clink a sharp note in the silence. Leo grabbed the parchment, the wax cracking under his thumb, releasing a charred vellum scent that stung his nose. Here it comes. Payback. The summons' words burned into his mind: "Unauthorized magic, theft of secrets, inciting unrest." The triumph of the cure soured into fear, tying to the Ministry's control tactics seen earlier in the story.
Hermione snatched the parchment, her eyes blazing as she tore it in half, the pieces fluttering like wounded birds. "They're scared of our success! This is their desperation showing!" Her voice, a low growl, echoed her strategist's fire from the war room, her ink-stained robes flapping as she paced.
Ron leaned back against a chair, his grin defiant despite the tension. "Another trial? You lot are trouble magnets."
"Magnets? We're legends, Weasley," Leo shot back, his sarcasm a shield, easing the dread with a spark of humor tied to Ron's rally cheer from the coalition.
[THEY'RE OUT FOR BLOOD NOW.]
The System's dagger animation pulsed in Leo's vision, its sharp edge glinting like a warning. He muttered, his voice low but steady, "Blood? We're tougher." His defiance burned, recalling the Black Thorn betrayal uncovered earlier, a bitter twist in his gut.
Enid's hand found his, her scarf brushing his wrist, her touch warm and grounding. "We'll face them together, Leo." Her voice, fierce yet soft, anchored him, their romance a quiet strength from the rally.
Wednesday's dagger twirled in her fingers, her monotone sharp as she leaned forward. "Let them come. Their fear is our weapon." Her words, edged with menace, echoed her vow to make the Ministry answer from before, her eyes glinting in the firelight.
Hermione's quill scratched furiously, her voice steady as she clutched Newt's journal. "We have the orb, the ledger, the proof. They can't deny the truth." Her strategist's mind churned, her robes smudged with ink, a testament to her role.
Neville, clutching a sprig of moly, spoke softly, his voice trembling but earnest. "We saved people. They can't punish us for that, right?" His hope, tied to his courage at the rally, bolstered the group, his hands shaking slightly.
A chipped ink bottle teetered on the table, its faint clink grounding their resolve as the owl's cry faded into the dormitory's hum. Leo's jaw tightened, defiance outpacing fear like a wildfire. We healed the school. They don't get to win. The barriers hummed, echoing the rebellion sparked earlier, urging them toward the courtroom, their steps heavy with purpose on the stone floor.
The Ministry courtroom loomed like a fortress, its towering columns carved with stern runes that seemed to pulse with judgment, the air thick with the hiss of wards and the polished oak's rich, oppressive scent. The Wizengamot's judges glared from their elevated bench, their gold-threaded robes heavy with authority, their faces a gallery of barely contained fury. Leo stood with his friends, his frayed robes itching against his skin, the orb's warmth a faint pulse in his pocket, a reminder of their victory. The head judge, a woman with a voice like splintered ice, spoke, her words cutting through the silence. "You've destabilized the magical order with unauthorized magic and incited unrest." Her accusation, sharp as a whip, echoed the summons, tying to the Ministry's control tactics from earlier.
Leo's beast-speaking sensed the room's tension, a storm brewing in the air, electric and heavy. They're scared. Let's use it. He whispered to Ron, his voice low, "Saving the school's a crime now?"
"Crime? Epic," Ron whispered back, his Gryffindor quip sparking a fleeting grin, easing the fear with a spark of humor.
Wednesday's eyes narrowed to slits, her voice a dangerous rumble. "Their fear fuels us. The truth's out, and they can't bury it." Her defiance, rooted in her earlier vow, sharpened the group's resolve, her dagger glinting faintly in the ward-light.
Hermione stepped forward, clutching the ledger from the Black Thorn conspiracy. "This proves Black Thorn's corruption, the Beast Echo's betrayal. You can't hide it anymore." Her voice, steady and fierce, silenced the murmurs, her ink-stained fingers trembling with purpose as she held the evidence aloft.
A clerk in the shadows muttered, his voice barely audible, "Cover-up must hold," his words a chilling link to the shutdown from earlier. Leo's anger flared, tying to Newt's betrayal in the vision from before, a bitter twist in his gut. They twisted his legacy. We'll untwist it.
He spoke, his beast-speaking amplifying his voice to a resonant boom, echoing the ravens he'd summoned before. "We healed the petrified, exposed your lies. If that's a crime, lock us up." The judges shifted, their confidence cracking, their faces paling as the ledger's pages were passed forward, its damning numbers laid bare.
"You've overstepped," the head judge hissed, her voice venomous, the wards humming louder, a pulse of menace in the air. "The Ministry will not tolerate rebellion."
[THEY'RE SHAKING. KEEP PUSHING, KID.]
The System's spark pulsed, urging Leo on. He grinned, his sarcasm biting. "Shaking? They should be running." The crowd—students, teachers, onlookers—murmured, their faces a mix of awe and fear, tying to the coalition formed at the rally.
Agnes whispered, her voice bright with Gryffindor spark, "You're killing it, Leo." Her encouragement, tied to her role in the war room, bolstered him, her wand sparking faintly.
A chipped quill rested on the clerk's desk, its feather frayed, grounding the moment as the evidence piled up—Newt's journal, the orb's glow, the ledger's numbers. The judges' resolve crumbled, their whispers frantic, their faces taut with dread. The courtroom's oppressive weight fueled the group's defiance, urging them toward the verdict, their hearts pounding in unison.
The gavel slammed, its thunderclap echoing through the courtroom, silencing the murmurs like a storm breaking. The head judge's voice dripped with impotent rage, her eyes burning. "Charges dropped. But further rebellion will face extreme prejudice." The crowd erupted, students cheering, teachers nodding, their faces a mosaic of relief and defiance, tying to the cure's triumph. The air smelled of wax and sweat, the wards' hum softening as the judges retreated, their robes swishing like defeated banners.
[YOU FLIPPED THEIR SCRIPT!]
The System's golden sparks flared in Leo's vision, a burst of triumph. He grinned, his voice light despite the exhaustion in his bones. "Script? Rewritten."
Hermione exhaled, her voice steady as she adjusted her glasses. "We've won this round. The truth's unstoppable now." Her strategist's mind, honed in the war room, already planned their next move, her robes dusted with courtroom grime.
Enid squeezed Leo's hand, her scarf brushing his arm, her voice fierce and warm. "They won't break us, Leo." Her touch grounded him, their bond a quiet strength tying to their moments at the rally.
Wednesday's dagger twirled in her fingers, her monotone sharp. "This is a pause, not a win. They'll strike harder." Her warning, rooted in her earlier vow, kept them vigilant, her eyes scanning the room like a predator's.
Ron clapped Leo's shoulder, his grin wide. "Rebels? Sounds cool." His humor sparked laughter, easing the tension with a Gryffindor spark.
A chipped gavel rested on the bench, its wood scarred, grounding their triumph in the looming threat. Leo's beast-speaking caught the crowd's energy, a pulse of defiance tying to the rally's unity. This is just the start. The courtroom's towering columns loomed, but the group's resolve stood taller, their unity a weapon against the Ministry's lies, forged in the fire of their evidence.
[YOU'VE WON THIS ROUND. FIGHT'S JUST STARTED.]
Leo's voice stayed light, but his eyes hardened, his resolve like iron. "Fight's on? Good. We're ready." The crowd's murmurs followed them as they left, the orb's warmth in his pocket a promise of rebellion, tying to the truth uncovered in the Black Thorn conspiracy. A faint breeze stirred a loose parchment, its rustle urging them forward, their steps echoing with purpose.
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