The Ministry of Magic had never felt so quiet.
Harry stood at the centre of the vast circular courtroom, the green-tinted torches casting long shadows across the stone floor. The Wizengamot sat in its rising tiers, purple and plum robes forming a wall of judgment around him. Faces blurred together, some curious, some hostile, some carefully blank.
At the far end, Cornelius Fudge shuffled papers at the Minister's podium, his bowler hat resting beside him. He glanced repeatedly at the clock mounted high on the wall, lips pressed thin.
"He is late," Fudge said sharply, his voice echoing. "This hearing was scheduled for nine o'clock precisely."
Several witches and wizards frowned.
Amelia Bones' eyes flicked to her own watch.
Harry did not react.
He stood perfectly still, hands clasped loosely behind his back, face calm, too calm. No fear. No anger. Not even defiance. Just a blank, unreadable neutrality that made more than a few members of the Wizengamot shift in their seats.
Fudge cleared his throat, unsettled.
"The time was moved forward," Amelia said coolly. "By your office. Without notifying the defendant."
Fudge's ears reddened. "Be that as it may,"
Harry said nothing.
And that, more than anything, seemed to irritate the Minister.
"Let us begin," Fudge snapped, banging his gavel. "Harry James Potter, you stand accused of performing underage magic in the presence of a Muggle and..."
The courtroom doors opened.
The sound cut clean through Fudge's words.
Measured footsteps echoed across the stone as Elira Vael entered, indigo robes flowing like ink in water. She carried a slim leather case under one arm, her expression composed and razor-sharp.
"I will be representing the defendant," she announced, voice clear and authoritative. "Elira Vael, Advocate of the International Confederation of Wizards."
The reaction was immediate.
Several Wizengamot members paled.
A few leaned toward one another, whispering urgently.
Dolores Umbridge, seated near Fudge, went rigid, her lips thinning to a bloodless line.
"The what?" Fudge spluttered.
"The ICW," Elira repeated calmly, taking her place beside Harry. "You were informed. In writing."
Umbridge's quill snapped in her grip.
Fudge recovered poorly.
"Very well," he said, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Let us proceed swiftly. Mr Potter, why did you summon a Patronus charm in Little Whinging?"
Harry turned his head slowly to face him.
"I didn't summon a Patronus charm," he replied evenly.
Fudge frowned. "Then what did you do?"
Harry met his gaze. "I defended myself and my cousin from two Dementors."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber.
Fudge leaned forward. "With what spell?"
Harry shrugged slightly. "Instinct."
Umbridge scoffed. "Children don't repel Dementors without incantations."
Elira stepped forward.
"Minister," she said smoothly, "before you continue, perhaps you might explain how the Ministry became aware of the Dementor attack before any formal report was filed."
Fudge blinked. "The...er...the Dementors reported,"
"Dementors," Elira interrupted, "do not file reports."
A few chuckles sounded from the upper tiers.
Fudge flushed. "We received… intelligence."
"And how," Elira pressed, "did this intelligence also specify that Mr Potter used a wand?"
Silence.
Harry spoke then, voice calm but carrying effortlessly.
"Yes," he said. "I'd like to know that as well. How did the Ministry know I used a wand… when I clearly didn't?"
The room exploded into whispers.
Heads turned sharply toward Fudge.
Amelia Bones' gaze hardened.
Umbridge's face twitched.
"That, that is irrelevant!" Fudge barked.
"On the contrary," Elira said, "it is central."
Amelia Bones stood.
"Mr Potter," she said firmly, "you are claiming you repelled Dementors without a wand."
"Yes, Madam Bones."
"Then," Amelia said, "demonstrate."
Elira glanced at Harry and gave a single nod.
Harry stepped forward.
He raised his hand.
No wand.
The air chilled.
Gasps echoed as emerald light flared and Toruk burst into existence.
The massive Patronus swept the chamber in a powerful arc, wings brushing the high ceiling before circling once and landing behind Harry, its presence protective, ancient, and undeniable.
The Wizengamot stared in stunned silence.
Fudge went white.
Umbridge looked as though she might faint.
Toruk's glowing gaze fixed briefly on the Minister before returning to Harry, looming like a guardian made of starlight and fury.
Amelia Bones exhaled slowly.
"Call the witness," she said.
Mrs Figg's testimony sealed it.
The Dementors.
Harry's actions.
The truth.
The gavel fell.
"All charges dismissed."
That evening, Grimmauld Place buzzed with energy.
Harry sat at the long table, friends and Order members crowded around as the Daily Prophet lay open, headlines screaming the truth Fudge had tried to bury.
MINISTRY EMBARRASSED—POTTER CLEARED WANDLESS PATRONUS STUNS WIZENGAMOT INCONSISTENCIES IN FUDGE'S CASE RAISE QUESTIONS
Behind Harry, Toruk shimmered quietly, wings folded, watchful.
Ron stared. "You broke the Ministry."
Hermione smiled fiercely. "You outplayed them."
Sirius laughed, wild and free.
And across the wizarding world, the balance began to shift.