The sight that greeted him was designed to intimidate, and Harry had to admit it was effective. The courtroom was enormous, much larger than he'd expected, with tiered benches rising in a semicircle around a single chair in the center of the room. Every bench was filled—the full Wizengamot, all wearing plum-colored robes with an elaborate silver 'W' embroidered on the left breast.
The chair in the center was made of dark wood and iron, with chains attached to the arms. Harry felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of it. He recognized this chair… from the memory he'd seen in Dumbledore's office a year ago. It was a chair meant for criminals, for dark wizards who needed to be restrained. Not for someone accused of a minor Statute violation.
He spotted Percy sitting near the center where he assumed the scribe usually sat, his expression haughty as he sneered at him.
'Well, fuck you too,' he thought, sneering.
"You're late," Cornelius Fudge's voice rang out from the highest bench, where he sat with a smug expression on his round face. "Proceedings were due to begin at eight o'clock. It is now seven minutes past."
Harry walked toward the center of the room, his footsteps echoing in the vast space. He could feel the weight of all those eyes on him, the collective gaze of the most powerful judicial body in wizarding Britain.
"I was not informed that the time or location of my hearing had been changed," Harry said clearly, his voice carrying despite the size of the room. "The original notice stated that proceedings would take place in Madam Bones's office at eight-thirty."
There was a rustle of movement among the assembled Wizengamot members, whispers passing between them. Harry caught sight of Amelia Bones on one of the lower benches, her monocled eye fixed on him with an expression that might have been approval.
"The Ministry dispatched an advance notice of the administrative change," Fudge said dismissively. "You should have been prepared to present yourself at the requisite time."
"With respect, Minister," Harry said, keeping his tone carefully polite despite the anger simmering beneath, "that sounds remarkably like a violation of due process. An owl was dispatched, yes, but how long ago? I'm sure it wouldn't have reached my residence even now. Sending a notice of the administrative change right before the scheduled time, and converting a hearing into a full Wizengamot trial… How can I mount an adequate defense if I'm not even informed of when and where I'm to be tried in time?"
More whispers, louder this time. Fudge's expression soured, and the toad-like witch sitting beside him—who Harry recognized from the descriptions he'd been given as his undersecretary Dolores Umbridge—leaned in to whisper something in his ear.
"The chair, if you please, Mr. Potter," Fudge said, ignoring Harry's point entirely.
Harry looked at the chair with its chains, then back at Fudge. "Is that really necessary? I'm here of my own free will to answer questions about an incident in which I was the victim of an attack. I'm not a flight risk."
"Hem, hem. The chair is standard procedure for all proceedings in this courtroom," Umbridge said, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Unless you have something to hide, Mr. Potter, I see no reason why you should object."
It was a trap, and not a subtle one. Either sit in the chair and accept the implication of guilt that came with it, or refuse and look like he had something to hide. Harry weighed his options for a moment, then walked over and sat down.
The chains didn't spring to life as he'd half-expected them to. They remained limp and cold against the arms of the chair, a silent reminder of what they could do if ordered. Harry kept his expression neutral, refusing to show any sign of the unease he felt.
"Right then," Fudge said, shuffling some papers in front of him. "The charges against the accused are as follows: that he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, thereby violating the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy as laid out in—"
"Point of clarification," Harry interrupted, and Fudge's face turned an interesting shade of purple.
"You will have your chance to speak when—"
"No, I think I'll speak now," Harry said firmly. "You've just accused me of acting knowingly and deliberately. I'd like to clarify exactly what I'm being accused of before we proceed further. Am I being charged with casting the Patronus, or with casting it in front of a Muggle?"
"Both," Umbridge said with a simper. "The two are inextricably linked, are they not?"
"Not necessarily," Harry replied. "Because the Muggle in question was my cousin, Dudley Dursley, who has been aware of the existence of magic for four years. The Statute of Secrecy explicitly states that it applies to keeping magic hidden from Muggles who are unaware of its existence. That doesn't apply in this case."
The whispers grew louder. Several Wizengamot members were now leaning forward with interest, and Harry could see Amelia Bones making notes on a piece of parchment.
"A technicality," Fudge blustered. "The spirit of the law—"
"The spirit of the law is meant to protect the secrecy of our world," Harry cut in. "Which would not have been compromised by my cousin, who already knew about magic, witnessing me perform a spell."
"There were other Muggles present in the area," Umbridge pointed out, her smile never wavering despite the malice in her eyes. "Any number of them could have witnessed your... alleged spell casting."
"Alleged?" Harry repeated. "I thought I was being charged with definitely casting the Patronus. Now it's alleged? Make up your minds."
"Don't be impertinent," Fudge snapped. "The point is that you cast a spell in a Muggle area—"
"To defend myself and my cousin from two Dementors," Harry finished. "Which brings us to the actual important question here. Why am I being tried for defending myself against a potentially fatal attack?"
The courtroom fell silent. Harry could feel the significance of what he'd just said. He'd laid his cards on the table now—claimed that there had been Dementors, not just implied it.
Amelia Bones was the first to speak. "Did you say Dementors, Mr. Potter?"
"Two of them," Harry confirmed, meeting her gaze steadily. "They attacked in an alley near my aunt and uncle's house. I cast the Patronus to drive them off."
Fudge let out a bark of laughter that sounded forced and artificial. "Dementors in Little Whinging! You'll forgive me, Mr. Potter, but that's absolutely preposterous. Dementors don't simply wander around Surrey attacking teenage boys."
"I agree," Harry said calmly. "Which raises the question of how two Dementors came to be in Little Whinging, doesn't it?"
More whispers, and Harry could see several Wizengamot members exchanging significant looks. He'd planted the seed now, made them question not just his story but the implications of it.
"This is clearly a fabricated tale," Fudge said, though he didn't sound quite as confident as he had moments ago. "A desperate attempt to justify an illegal use of magic by inventing a threat that—"
"I have a witness," Harry interrupted, and the courtroom fell silent again.
Fudge's face went from red to white. "A... witness?"
"Yes," Harry said, holding Fudge's gaze. "Someone who was present during the attack and can corroborate everything I've said. One of Madam Bones's own Aurors, in fact."
Amelia Bones sat up straighter, her expression sharpening with interest. "One of my Aurors was present?"
"Yes, ma'am," Harry said, addressing her directly. "Auror Nymphadora Tonks. She witnessed the entire incident."
Fudge looked like he'd been struck. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly scrambling for something to say. Umbridge leaned in again, whispering urgently in his ear.
"I'm afraid we don't have time to waste on this," Fudge finally said, though his voice lacked its earlier certainty. "The witness would need to be summoned, and we have other matters to attend to—"
"I believe Mr. Potter is entitled to present witnesses on his behalf," Amelia Bones said, her voice firm. "That is a fundamental right in any legal proceeding, Minister."
"Of course, of course," Fudge said hastily. "I simply meant that we should verify whether this... alleged witness... actually exists before we—"
"Are you suggesting I'm lying?" Harry asked, his voice dangerous. "Because I can assure you that Auror Tonks definitely exists, and must be at work if she hasn't been given leave."
Amelia's monocled eye fixed on Harry with an intensity that reminded him uncomfortably of Professor McGonagall. "Mr. Potter, are you telling this court that Auror Tonks was present during the incident in question and can verify your account of the Dementor attack?"
"Yes, ma'am," Harry said firmly. "She was there. She saw everything."
Fudge's face had gone from white to a mottled purple. "This is highly irregular—"
"What's irregular, Minister, is attempting to deny a defendant the right to call witnesses," Amelia said, her tone brooking no argument. "Mr. Potter, you said the witness is Auror Tonks?"
"Auror Nymphadora Tonks, yes," Harry confirmed, careful to use her full first name as she would in an official capacity.
Amelia turned to address one of the junior aides of the Wizengamot. "Have Auror Tonks summoned to Courtroom Ten immediately."
"That's really not necessary," Fudge protested. "We can take Mr. Potter's word—"
"I thought we were here because you didn't take Mr. Potter's word," someone called out from the upper benches, and there was a ripple of laughter through the assembled members.
Harry smirked. The Minister had an agenda. That much was clear. But he was a very weak player.
Fudge's expression turned thunderous, but he couldn't argue the point without looking even worse. He settled back in his seat with poor grace, his fingers drumming impatiently on the bench in front of him.
The wait felt endless. Harry sat in the chair, very aware of the chains lying dormant against his arms, very aware of the dozens of eyes fixed on him. He kept his breathing steady, his expression calm. They wanted him rattled, wanted him to crack under the pressure. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
Finally, the doors to the courtroom opened, and Tonks walked in.
She'd clearly been pulled away from whatever she was doing without much warning—her robes were slightly askew, and her hair had shifted to a professional dark brown rather than its usual pink. But her stride was confident as she walked toward the center of the room, her eyes briefly meeting Harry's before turning to face the assembled Wizengamot.
"Auror Tonks," Amelia said, her voice formal. "Please state your full name for the record."
Harry saw Tonks's jaw tighten slightly, and he felt a surge of amusement despite the seriousness of the situation.
"Nymphadora Tonks," she said, her voice clipped and professional. "Auror, second class, assigned to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
"Thank you, Auror Tonks," Amelia said. "You've been called as a witness in the case against Harry James Potter. Do you understand that you are required to provide truthful testimony?"
"I do," Tonks said.
"Very well. Please describe, in your own words, the events of the evening in question—specifically, the incident in Little Whinging involving Mr. Potter and his cousin."
And so she did. Tonks took a breath, then began speaking clearly. She explained the Dementor attack, and how even she was affected by it.
"I attempted to cast a Patronus charm to drive them off, but I was unable to produce it. The presence of two Dementors made it... difficult."
"But Mr. Potter succeeded?" Amelia asked.
"Yes. He cast a fully corporeal Patronus—a stag—that drove both Dementors away. If he hadn't, all three of us would have received the Dementor's Kiss."
The courtroom erupted in whispers. The implications of what Tonks had just said were enormous—Harry Potter producing a corporeal Patronus under those conditions was extraordinary magic.
"A corporeal Patronus," one of the Wizengamot members, a rather distinguished looking man who seemed to be in his early forties said, leaning forward with interest. "That's remarkably advanced magic, Mr. Potter."
"Thank you," Harry said politely, his attention primarily on Amelia and Fudge.
"Yes, yes, very impressive," Fudge said irritably, clearly annoyed that the focus had shifted. "But that's beside the point—"
"Actually, Minister, I think it's very much the point," another Wizengamot member interjected. "Mr. Potter produced advanced defensive magic under extreme duress. That hardly sounds like someone recklessly breaking the law."
Fudge waved a hand dismissively. "We're getting distracted from the real issue here—"
"Hem, hem."
Harry resisted the urge to cringe at the sound, feeling a crawling sensation under his skin that made him want to simultaneously flee and hex something. He turned his head slightly to get a better look at Umbridge, and found her simpering smile fixed on Tonks.
"Forgive me," Umbridge said in her sickly-sweet voice, "but I do have a question for our... witness."
Harry felt every muscle in his body tense. There was something about the way she'd said 'witness' that set off alarm bells in his mind.
"What were you doing in Little Whinging that evening, Auror Tonks?" Umbridge asked, her smile never wavering. "Hem, hem. It seems rather... coincidental... that an Auror would happen to be in that particular Muggle neighborhood at that exact time."
Tonks's expression remained neutral, but Harry could see the wariness in her eyes. "I was on personal time. My day off."
"Your day off," Umbridge repeated, as if the phrase itself was suspicious. "And you chose to spend it in a Muggle neighborhood in Surrey? How curious."
"I fail to see what my personal activities have to do with this case," Tonks said, her voice hardening slightly.
"Madam Bones," Umbridge said, turning to address the Head of Magical Law Enforcement directly, "were you aware that your Auror was in Little Whinging that evening? Was she on assignment?"
Amelia's expression suggested she knew exactly what Umbridge was trying to do and didn't appreciate it. "Not to my knowledge, no. But as Auror Tonks stated, she was on personal time. My Aurors are entitled to privacy in their off-duty hours."
"Of course, of course," Umbridge simpered. "I simply find it remarkably convenient that an Auror happened to be present at exactly the right moment to corroborate Mr. Potter's... story."
Harry felt his temper flare. "Do you have an actual point? Because it seems to me like you're wasting the court's time with irrelevant questions."
Several Wizengamot members made sounds of agreement, and Harry caught a brief flash of what might have been approval on Amelia Bones's face.
Umbridge's smile grew tighter, more forced. "I merely think it's worth noting the... convenience... of the situation."
"The convenience," Harry repeated flatly, "was that Auror Tonks happened to be nearby when two Dementors attacked me and my cousin. If you have evidence suggesting otherwise, I'm sure the court would love to hear it. Otherwise, perhaps we could focus on the actual matter at hand—namely, why there were Dementors in Little Whinging in the first place."
Fudge looked like he wanted to interrupt, but the same Wizengamot member from before spoke first. "Mr. Potter makes a valid point. Auror Tonks's presence in the area is irrelevant to the question of whether Mr. Potter's actions were justified. The pertinent facts are that there were Dementors, that they were attacking Mr. Potter and his cousin, and that Mr. Potter used defensive magic to protect them both."
"The auror's presence matters if we're questioning the veracity of the testimony," Umbridge said, her voice hardening beneath the sweetness.
"Are you questioning the veracity of one of our Aurors?" Amelia asked, her tone dangerous now. "Because that's a serious accusation to make without evidence."
Umbridge's smile became fixed. "Of course not, Madam Bones. I would never suggest such a thing. I simply wanted to ensure that all relevant context was—"
"I think we have sufficient context," the Wizengamot member said firmly, and this time, Harry had to look at him seriously. He was looking neutral, but the gleam in his eyes was impossible to miss. He wondered just who this man was. "Unless you have questions that actually pertain to the incident itself, I suggest we move on."
Fudge cleared his throat loudly. "Yes, well. Thank you for your testimony, Auror Tonks. You may go."
Tonks glanced at Harry, and for just a moment, their eyes met. Harry saw the concern there, the worry, but also the confidence. She believed in him. She knew he could handle this.
Then she turned and walked out of the courtroom, her footsteps echoing in the silence. Harry watched her go, very aware of the way Umbridge's eyes followed her the entire way. There was something calculating in that gaze, something that made Harry's skin crawl.
"Right then," Fudge said, once the doors had closed behind Tonks. "I think we've heard quite enough. The accused has admitted to casting the Patronus Charm—"
"In self-defense," Harry interrupted. "Against two Dementors who were attempting to administer the Kiss. Which, I should point out, is meant to be a punishment reserved for the most dangerous criminals, not randomly handed out in suburban Surrey."
"There were no Dementors in Little Whinging," Fudge said, but his voice lacked conviction now. "The entire story is—"
"My witness corroborates my account," Harry said, his voice rising slightly. "An Auror. One of the Ministry's own law enforcement officers. Are you suggesting she's lying?"
"Of course not," Fudge said quickly. "But perhaps she was... mistaken. In the heat of the moment, shadows can play tricks—"
"Auror Tonks is trained to identify dark creatures," Amelia said, her voice cutting across Fudge's floundering. "I seriously doubt she would mistake shadows for Dementors."
"The question remains," Harry said, deciding to press his advantage, "why there were Dementors in Little Whinging at all. Dementors are meant to be under Ministry control, confined to Azkaban except when explicitly deployed elsewhere. So I have to ask—did the Ministry send those Dementors to attack me?"
The courtroom exploded. Wizengamot members were shouting, some in outrage, others in shock. In the midst of it all, the man from before sat calmly, his eyes trained on Harry with intensity.
Meanwhile, Umbridge's face had gone white, then red, and Fudge looked like he might actually be having some kind of seizure.
"That is—how dare you—the Ministry would never—" Fudge sputtered, his face now a dangerous shade of purple.
"Then how did two Dementors end up in Little Whinging?" Harry asked, his voice cutting through the chaos. "If the Ministry controls the Dementors, and the Ministry didn't send them, then that suggests someone else is controlling them and the Ministry has no clue about it. Which raises some very interesting questions about the security of Azkaban and the Ministry's ability to maintain control over extremely dangerous creatures."
He could see several Wizengamot members nodding thoughtfully now, following his logic. Fudge had been backed into a corner—either admit the Ministry had lost control of the Dementors, or face the implication that they'd deliberately sent them after Harry.
"Hem, hem." Umbridge's voice cut through again, though it sounded more strained now. "It seems to me that Mr. Potter is attempting to deflect from his own illegal actions by making wild accusations against the Ministry itself."
"Is it wild to ask why there were Dementors attacking innocents in a Muggle neighborhood?" Harry asked, turning to look at her directly. "Because it seems like a fairly reasonable question to me. Unless you're suggesting the Ministry has something to hide?"
It was a direct challenge, and Harry could see the calculation in Umbridge's eyes as she weighed her response.
"The Ministry has nothing to hide," she said finally, her voice tight. "But your insinuation that we would orchestrate an attack on a citizen is slanderous and—"
"I didn't insinuate anything," Harry said calmly. "I asked a question. A question that, notably, you still haven't answered. How did two Dementors end up in Little Whinging?"
Fudge slammed his hand down on the bench in front of him. "Enough! This hearing is about your illegal use of magic, not about the Ministry's operations!"
"Actually," Amelia Bones said, her voice cutting through the minister's bluster, "I think Mr. Potter has raised a valid point. If there were indeed Dementors in Little Whinging—and we have testimony from a trained Auror confirming their presence—then the Ministry has a duty to investigate how that came to be."
"Quite right," the man agreed. "We can't simply ignore the presence of Dementors in a muggle populated area."
Fudge looked like he wanted to argue, but he seemed to realize he was losing control of the situation. "That's... a separate matter. One that can be investigated later. Right now, we need to focus on the charges against Mr. Potter."
"Very well," Amelia said, but the look she gave Fudge made it clear she wasn't going to let the Dementor question drop entirely. "Let's review the facts as presented. Mr. Potter cast a Patronus Charm in the presence of his cousin, who was already aware of magic. The spell was cast in response to an attack by two Dementors, and was necessary to prevent serious harm or death to both Mr. Potter and his cousin, and Auror Tonks. Does anyone dispute these facts?"
There was a moment of silence. Fudge looked like he wanted to dispute them, but Tonks's testimony had made that impossible without calling an Auror a liar.
"The Statute of Secrecy was not violated," Amelia continued, "as the Muggle in question was already aware of magic. The use of magic was clearly defensive in nature and proportionate to the threat. I fail to see grounds for any charges."
"Here, here," several voices called out.
Fudge's face was now an alarming shade of puce. "The boy still used magic in a Muggle area—"
"Which was not illegal, as we've already established," Amelia said firmly. "And Minister, if we're going to start charging wizards for defending themselves from dark creatures, we might as well shut down the Auror office entirely."
There were murmurs of agreement from around the courtroom. Harry could see the tide had turned decisively in his favor. Fudge knew it too, based on the way his jaw was clenched and his fingers were gripping the edge of the bench.
"I still have concerns about the circumstances," Fudge said, though his voice had lost its earlier certainty. "The presence of this... alleged Auror witness seems highly convenient."
"Alleged?" Amelia repeated, her voice dangerously quiet. "Minister, are you suggesting that I don't know my own Aurors?"
"Of course not, I just meant—"
"Because that would be a rather serious insult to both myself and the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Amelia continued, her monocled eye fixed on Fudge with an intensity that made even Harry uncomfortable, and he wasn't even the target.
Fudge seemed to realize he'd overstepped. "No, no, that's not what I meant at all. I simply—"
"I find it deeply concerning that we're more focused on prosecuting the victim of a Dementor attack than on investigating how such an attack came to occur in the first place," the man said.
Fudge looked around the courtroom, his expression growing increasingly desperate as he realized the tide had turned decisively against him. "This is highly irregular—"
"What's irregular is conducting a full Wizengamot trial for a minor Statute infraction," the man said coldly. "What's irregular is changing the time and location of a hearing without informing the defendant. What's irregular is attempting to deny a defendant his right to call witnesses. What's irregular is this entire body sitting here silently as an innocent is being so blatantly targeted. Shall I continue, Minister?"
Fudge's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but no sound came out.
"I believe we should move to the vote now," Amelia interjected, frowning. "All in favor of clearing Mr. Potter of all charges?"
Hands shot up around the courtroom. Harry counted quickly—it had to be at least forty votes in his favor.
"All opposed?"
Fewer hands this time, with Fudge's among them. The rest of the Wizengamot abstained, but it didn't matter. The majority had spoken.
"The motion carries," Amelia announced, and there was a note of satisfaction in her voice. "Mr. Potter is cleared of all charges. Furthermore, I recommend that the Ministry open a formal investigation into the presence of Dementors in Little Whinging and the security protocols surrounding their deployment."
"Now see here—" Fudge began, but Amelia cut him off.
"That is my recommendation as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Minister. Unless you have a compelling reason why we shouldn't investigate a potential security breach involving some of the most dangerous creatures under Ministry control?"
Fudge looked like he wanted to argue, but he seemed to realize that any objection would only make him look worse. "Fine," he said tersely. "An investigation will be... considered. This court is dismissed."
As the Wizengamot members began to file out, Harry caught Amelia Bones's eye. She gave him a small nod, the barest hint of a smile on her face, before turning to gather her papers. It wasn't much, but it felt like acknowledgment—she knew what had really happened here, knew the games Fudge had been trying to play.
He stood up from the chair, the chains still lying dormant against the arms. He'd sat there for the entire hearing without them ever activating, and somehow that felt like a small victory in itself. They'd tried to intimidate him with that chair, and it hadn't worked.
He looked around for the man from before, who had unexpectedly been aiding him throughout the trial, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Shrugging, he turned around, only to find himself face to face with the same man he'd been looking for.
"That was well done, Mr. Potter," he said politely. "You kept your head and used logic rather than emotion. That's rare in someone your age."
"Thank you," Harry said.
"Greengrass," the man smiled. "Cyrus Greengrass."
"Mr. Greengrass," Harry nodded. "I appreciate your help during the trial."
"A farce, if there ever was one," Cyrus said darkly. "I was simply upholding the side of the truth. Which is more than I can say for some people in this building." He glanced toward where Fudge and Umbridge were huddled in urgent conversation, their faces both sour. "Be careful, Mr. Potter. You've made enemies today. Foolish, but powerful ones. And there's rarely an enemy more dangerous than a fool with power."
"I had those enemies before I walked in here," Harry replied. "At least now I know where I stand."
Cyrus's lips quirked in what might have been a smile. "Indeed. Good luck with your schooling, Mr. Potter. Something tells me you're going to need it."
Harry nodded as the man took his leave, and with a parting look toward the Minister and his Undersecretary who left together through the side exit, he made his way toward the public exit, his legs feeling slightly unsteady now that the adrenaline was beginning to fade. The doors opened, and he found himself face to face with Arthur Weasley, whose expression was a mix of anxiety and concern in equal measure.
"Cleared?" he asked hopefully.
"Cleared," Harry confirmed, and Arthur's entire body seemed to sag with relief.
"Thank Merlin. I was worried when I heard them shouting in there. What happened?"
Before Harry could answer, he caught sight of another figure in the corridor. Albus Dumbledore stood near the lifts, his purple robes standing out even in the dim blue light. For a moment, Harry thought the Headmaster might approach, might try to speak with him.
But Dumbledore's eyes merely passed over Harry, as if he were just another Ministry worker in the corridor. There was no acknowledgment, no nod of recognition, nothing. The old wizard turned away and walked toward the lifts, his footsteps echoing in the stone corridor, and disappeared without a word.
Harry felt a strange twist in his chest—not quite hurt, not quite anger. Just a hollow sort of feeling that maybe whatever relationship they'd once had, it was well and truly damaged now. Dumbledore had made his choice about how to handle Harry, and Harry had made his choice in response.
"Was that—" Arthur began, having noticed the Headmaster as well.
"Yes," Harry said shortly. "Come on, let's get out of here. I've had quite enough of the Ministry for one day."
They made their way back through the corridors in silence, though Arthur kept casting concerned glances at Harry. The lift ride back up to the Atrium was mercifully quiet, with only a few Ministry workers who paid them no mind.
When they emerged into the main Atrium, Harry spotted Tonks and Kingsley standing near the fountain, seemingly in conversation but clearly waiting. Tonks's eyes lit up when she saw Harry, though she maintained her professional demeanor.
"How'd it go?" Kingsley asked casually, acting completely nonchalant.
"Cleared of all charges," Harry said, unable to keep the satisfaction out of his voice. "Overwhelming majority vote."
"Brilliant," Tonks said, grinning. "I knew Boss Lady wouldn't let them railroad you."
"Your testimony made all the difference," Harry smiled. "Don't think I would've managed it without you."
"Right you are," Tonks said with a playful wink. "Now, I think we could all use a drink. Who's up for heading back to Grimmauld Place and celebrating Harry's victory?"
"I need to get back to work," Kingsley said regretfully. "But congratulations, Harry."
"Thanks," Harry said.
"I'll join you two in a bit then," Tonks said, walking away with Kingsley.
Harry and Arthur made their way back through the Ministry, past the security desk where the balding wizard gave Harry a subtle thumbs up, and through the bustling atrium where more than a few people gave Harry curious or approving looks.
He'd come here expecting a fight, expecting to have to defend himself against a system stacked against him.
And he'd won.
Not through luck or sympathy or special treatment, but through the truth and through having people who believed in him standing by his side. It felt good. It felt like progress.
When they arrived at Number Twelve, he was greeted by applause. The Order members who'd remained at headquarters had clearly been waiting anxiously for news, and the relief on their faces when they saw Harry's expression was palpable.
"Cleared!" Arthur announced, stepping through the Floo behind Harry. "Not a single charge stuck."
The kitchen erupted in cheers. Molly pulled Harry into a brief hug despite the lingering awkwardness between them, Ron clapped him on the back so hard Harry nearly stumbled, and Hermione gave him a genuine smile that reminded him of better days between them.
But it was Sirius's reaction that meant the most. His godfather crossed the kitchen in three long strides and pulled Harry into a fierce embrace, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so proud of you, Harry. So bloody proud."
"Thanks," Harry said, his own voice not entirely steady. "Couldn't have done it without everyone's help."
"Nonsense," Sirius said, pulling back to look Harry in the eye. "You walked in there and faced down the entire Wizengamot. That was all you."
Tonks caught Harry's eye from across the kitchen, and the pride in her expression made his chest feel warm. She gave him a saucy wink, and Harry smirked. He too couldn't wait to go back and celebrate with her properly.
"Right then," Molly said, bustling toward the stove. "I think this calls for a proper celebration lunch. Everyone sit down, I'll have something ready in just a few minutes."
As people began settling around the large kitchen table, Harry felt the tension that had been coiled in his chest for days finally begin to unwind. The hearing was over. The charges were dropped. And he'd done it without compromising himself, without backing down from the truth.
It was, Harry reflected as he took his seat between Sirius and Ron, a good day.
To be continued…
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