Emily Potter - Book 5 - Order of the Phoenix

Chapter 11 - The Trial

Emily gasped at how cold the courtroom was; even through her thick coat she could feel the brisk air. The large dungeon they had entered was horribly familiar. She had not only seen it before, she had been here before. This was the place she and Harry had visited inside Dumbledore's Pensieve, the place where they had watched the Lestranges sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban. The walls were made of dark stone, dimly lit by torches. Empty benches rose on either side, but ahead, in the highest benches of all, were many shadowy figures. They had been talking in low voices, but as the heavy door swung closed behind the twins an ominous silence fell.

A cold male voice rang across the courtroom, "You're late."

"Sorry," said Harry nervously, "I — I didn't know the time had been changed."

"That is not the Wizengamot's fault," said the voice. "An owl was sent to you this morning. Take your seat – "

"Hey, we received no owl." Emily snapped, her green eyes slightly on edge, "And if you did send an owl, it would be in our place of residence of which we left an hour earlier than the original time agreed upon for the trial." She said furiously to the Wizard, "It's the Wizengamot's fault. Not my brother's." With that being said, the Wizard glared at the twins with searing anger, "Miss Potter, please take a seat on the benches."

Harry dropped his gaze to the chair in the centre of the room, the arms of which were covered in chains. He had seen those chains spring to life and bind whoever sat between them. "It'll be over soon, Harry." Emily whispered as she hugged him before leaving for the benches, "Go kick some ass." She said, kissing his forehead. Harry nodded, forcing a smile as he watched Emily walk to her seat. It was only him now, him against the Wizengamot.

His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked across the stone floor. When he sat tentatively on the edge of the chair the chains clinked portentously, but did not bind him. Feeling rather sick, he looked up at the people seated at the bench above. In the very middle of the front row sat Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic. Fudge was a chubby man who often sported a Kelly-green bowler hat, though today he had dispensed of it; he had dispensed, too, with the indulgent smile he had once worn when he spoke to Harry and Emily.

A broad, square-jawed witch with very short grey hair sat on Fudge's left; she wore a monocle and looked forbidding. On Fudge's right was another witch, but she was sitting so far back on the bench that her face was in shadow. "Very well," said Fudge. "The accused being present - finally - let us begin. Are you ready?" he called down the row.

"Yes, sir," said an eager voice Harry knew. Ron's brother Percy was sitting at the very end of the front bench. Harry looked at Percy, expecting some sign of recognition from him, but none came. Percy's eyes, behind his horn-rimmed glasses, were fixed on his parchment, a quill poised in his hand. Harry noticed that Emily had looked at Percy as if she had never seen him all her life, like he was a stranger.

"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," said Fudge in a ringing voice, and Percy began taking notes at once, "Into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

"Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley -"

"Witness for the defence, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," said a quiet voice from behind Harry, who turned his head so fast he cricked his neck. Dumbledore was striding serenely across the room wearing long midnight-blue robes and a perfectly calm expression. His long silver beard and hair gleamed in the torchlight as he drew level with Harry and looked up at Fudge through the half-moon spectacles that rested halfway down his very crooked nose.