House of Black

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Avianna gasped; she could not help herself. The large dungeon she had entered was horribly familiar. She had not only seen it before, she had been here before: This was the place she had visited inside Dumbledore's Pensieve, the place where she 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 of him, 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 Avia an ominous silence fell.

A cold male voice rang across the courtroom.

"You're late."

"Sorry," said Avia said. "I didn't know the time had changed."

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

"And I've been busy doing other things more important than this." She spoke annoyed.

Avia dropped her gaze to the chair in the center of the room, the arms of which were covered in chains. Her had seen those chains spring to life and bind whoever sat between them. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she walked across the stone floor. When she sat gingerly on the edge of the chair the chains clinked rather threateningly but did not bind her. Feeling rather sick she looked up at the people seated at the bench above. Her black blazer had moved slightly as she sat down along with her heels clicking.

There were about fifty of them, all, as far as she could see, wearing plum-colored robes with an elaborately worked silver W on the left- hand side of the chest and all staring down their noses at her, some with very austere expressions, others looks of frank curiosity.

In the very middle of the front row sat Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. Fudge was a portly man who often sported a lime-green bowler hat, though today he had dispensed with it; he had dispensed too with the indulgent smile he had once worn when he spoke to Avia. A broad, square-jawed witch with very short gray 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 Avia knew. Ron's brother Percy was sitting at the very end of the front bench. Avia looked at Percy, she smiled at him although he went in the wrong direction to escape his mother he still did escape his mother bringing himself happiness. Percy's eyes, behind his horn-rimmed glasses, were fixed on his parchment, a quill poised in his hand.

"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," said Fudge in a ringing voice, and Percy began taking notes at once, "into offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Un- derage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Avianna Freya Minerva Jamie Potter, resident at Potter Villa, Castlefield, Manchester."

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

"— Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," said a quiet voice from behind Avia, who turned her head so fast she cricked her neck. Not that she cared she let out a sigh of annoyance but everyone was too focused on other things that they didn't pay attention to the annoyance that left her lips.

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 Avia and looked up at Fudge through the half-moon spectacles that rested halfway down his very crooked nose.