Arthur, Molly, Sirius, Remus, Lily, James, (Y/n), and Tonks looked up as Harry walked quietly down the stairs leading into the kitchen. All were dressed except Molly, who was wearing a quilted purple dressing gown and (Y/n) still had a hair roller in her bangs. Molly leapt to her feet the moment he entered.
"Breakfast," she said as she pulled out her wand and hurried over to the fire.
"M-m-morning, Harry," yawned Tonks. Their hair was blonde and curly this morning. "Sleep all right?"
"Yeah," said Harry.
"I've b-b-been up all night," they said with another shuddering yawn.
"Come and sit down..." James advised, drawing out a chair.
"What do you want, Harry?" Molly called. "Porridge? Muffins? Kippers? Bacon and eggs? Toast?"
"Just— just toast, thanks," said Harry.
Remus glanced at Harry, then said to Tonks, "What were you saying about Scrimgeour?"
"Oh... yeah... well, we need to be a bit more careful, he's been asking Kingsley and me funny questions..."
Harry felt vaguely grateful that he was not required to join in the conversation. His insides were squirming. Molly placed a couple of pieces of toast and marmalade in front of him; he tried to eat, but it was like chewing a carpet. Lily sat on his other side and started fussing with his T-shirt, tucking in the label and smoothing out creases across the shoulders. He wished she wouldn't.
"...and I'll have to tell Dumbledore I can't do night duty tomorrow, I'm just t-t-too tired," Tonks finished, yawning hugely again. (Y/n) unconsciously covered her yawn.
"I'll cover for you," said Arthur. "I'm okay, I've got a report to finish anyway..."
Arthur was not wearing wizard's robes but a pair of pinstriped trousers and an old bomber jacket. He turned from Tonks to Harry.
"How are you feeling?" Harry shrugged. "It'll all be over soon," said Arthur bracingly. "In a few hours' time, you'll be cleared." Harry said nothing. "The hearing's on my floor, in Amelia Bones' office. She's Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and she's the one who'll be questioning you."
"Amelia Bones is okay, Harry," said Tonks earnestly. "She's fair, she'll hear you out." Harry nodded, unable to say anything.
"Don't lose your temper," said Sirius abruptly. "Be polite and stick to the facts." Harry nodded again.
"The law's on your side," said Remus quietly. "Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations."
Something very cold trickled down Harry's neck; for a moment he thought someone was putting a Disillusionment Charm on him again, then he realized Molly was attacking his hair with a wet comb. She pressed hard on the top of his head.
"Doesn't it ever lie flat?" she said desperately.
"Afraid not," James murmured. "Look, Lils, his hair's already growing back from the monstrous haircut Petunia gave him..." Arthur checked his watch and looked up at Harry.
"I think we'll go now," he said. "We're a bit early, but I think you'll be better off there than hanging around here."
"Okay," said Harry automatically, dropping his toast and getting to his feet.
"You'll be all right, Harry," said Tonks, patting him on the arm.
"Good luck," said Remus. "I'm sure it will be fine."
"And if it's not," said Sirius grimly, "I'll see to Amelia Bones for you..." Harry smiled weakly and Molly hugged him.
"We've all got our fingers crossed," she said.
"Right," said Harry. He raised his eyebrows expectantly at (Y/n), who looked up as though feeling his stare.
"Get lost, loser," (Y/n) said.
"(Y/n)!" Molly cried.
"This could be the last time you see me, and you're calling me a loser?" Harry jeered. (Y/n) grinned.
"Get out of here. Harry Potter isn't going to be expelled," (Y/n) stated. "You've got Dumbledore on your side. Anyone else would be screwed, but anyone else also wouldn't need to go to court for saving their own life..."
"Aren't you coming?" Harry frowned. James smirked at the other adults in the room. "Sirius' trial is today, isn't it?"
"Right after yours," (Y/n) said.
"Then you'll need to come!" Harry exclaimed.
"You're such a pest," (Y/n) groaned. "I'll be there after your trial. Isn't that enough?"
"Yes, Harry," Arthur said hurriedly. "We need to get going. You'll see her later."
"All right," Harry sighed, getting up. "Well, see you later then..."
He followed Arthur upstairs and along the hall. He could hear Sirius's mother grunting in her sleep behind the curtains. Arthur unbolted the door and they stepped out into the cold, grey dawn.
"You don't normally walk to work, do you?" Harry asked him as they set off briskly around the square.
"No, I usually Apparate," said Arthur, "but you obviously can't, and I think it's best we arrive in a thoroughly non-magical fashion... makes a better impression, given what you're being disciplined for..."
Arthur kept his hand inside his jacket as they walked. Harry knew it was clenched around his wand. The run-down streets were almost deserted, but when they arrived at the miserable little Underground station they found it already full of early morning commuters. Even when he found himself near Muggles going about their daily business, Arthur was hard to contain his enthusiasm.
"Simply fabulous," he whispered, indicating the automatic ticket machines. "Wonderfully ingenious."
"They're out of order," said Harry, pointing to the sign.
"Yes, but even so..." said Arthur, beaming fondly at them.
They bought their tickets instead from a sleepy-looking guard (Harry had needed to handle the transaction, as Arthur was not good with Muggle money) and five minutes later they were boarding an Underground train that rattled them off toward the centre of London. Arthur kept anxiously checking and rechecking the Underground map above the windows.
"Four stops, Harry... three stops left now... two stops to go, Harry..."
They got off at a station in the very heart of London, swept from the train in a tide of besuited men and women carrying briefcases. Up the escalator they went, through the ticket barrier (Arthur delighted with the way the stile swallowed his ticket), and emerged onto a broad street lined with imposing-looking buildings, already full of traffic.
"Where are we?" said Arthur blankly, and for one heart-stopping moment, Harry thought they had gotten off at the wrong station despite Arthur's continual references to the map; but a second later he said, "Ah yes... this way, Harry," and led him down a side road.
"Sorry,' he said, "but I never come by train and it all looks rather different from a Muggle perspective. As a matter of fact, I've never even used the visitor's entrance before."
The farther they walked, the smaller and less imposing the buildings became until finally, they reached a street that contained several rather shabby-looking offices, a pub, and an overflowing dumpster. Harry had expected a rather more impressive location for the Ministry of Magic.
"Here we are," said Arthur brightly, pointing at an old red telephone box, which was missing several panes of glass and stood before a heavily graffitied wall. "After you, Harry."
Harry stepped inside, wondering what on earth this was about. Arthur folded himself in beside Harry and closed the door. It was a tight fit; Harry was jammed against the telephone apparatus, which was hanging crookedly from the wall as though a vandal had tried to rip it off. Arthur reached past Harry for the receiver.
"Mr. Weasley, I think this might be out of order too," Harry said.
"No, no, I'm sure it's fine," said Arthur, holding the receiver above his head and peering at the dial. "Let's see... six..." he dialled the number, "two... four... and another four... and another two..."
As the dial whirred smoothly back into place, a cool female voice sounded inside the telephone box, not from the receiver in Arthur's hand, but as loudly and plainly as though an invisible woman were standing right beside them.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."
"Er..." said Arthur, clearly uncertain whether he should talk into the receiver or not; he compromised by holding the mouthpiece to his ear, "Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, here to escort Harry Potter, who has been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing..."
"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."
There was a click and a rattle and Harry saw something slide out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. He picked it up: It was a square silver badge with Harry Potter, Disciplinary Hearing on it. He pinned it to the front of his T-shirt as the female voice spoke again.
"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."
The floor of the telephone box shuddered. They were sinking slowly into the ground. Harry watched apprehensively as the pavement rose past the glass windows of the telephone box until darkness closed over their heads. Then he could see nothing at all; he could only hear a dull grinding noise as the telephone box made its way down through the earth. After about a minute, though it felt much longer to Harry, a chink of golden light illuminated his feet and, widening, rose up his body, until it hit him in the face and he had to blink to stop his eyes from watering.
"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," said the woman's voice.
The door of the telephone box sprang open and Arthur stepped out of it, followed by Harry, whose mouth had fallen open.
They were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished dark wood floor. The peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that were continually moving and changing like some enormous heavenly notice board. The walls on each side were panelled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft whoosh; on the right-hand side, short queues of wizards were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart.
Halfway down the hall was a fountain. A group of golden statues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool. Tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air. Grouped around him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf. The last three were all looking adoringly up at the witch and wizard. Glittering jets of water were flying from the goblin's hat, and each of the house-elf's ears, so that the tinkling hiss of falling water was added to the pops and cracks of Apparators and the clatter of footsteps of hundreds of witches and wizards, most of whom were wearing glum, early-morning looks, strode toward a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall.
"This way," said Arthur.
They joined the throng, wending their way between the Ministry workers, some of whom were carrying tottering piles of parchment, others battered briefcases, and still, others reading the Daily Prophet as they walked. As they passed the fountain, Harry saw silver Sickles and bronze Knuts glinting up at him from the bottom of the pool. A small, smudged sign beside it read:
All proceeds from the Fountain of Magical Brethren will be given to
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
If I'm not expelled from Hogwarts, I'll put in ten Galleons, Harry found himself thinking desperately.
"Over here, Harry," said Arthur and they stepped out of the stream of Ministry employees heading for the golden gates, toward a desk on the left, over which hung a sign saying SECURITY. A badly shaven wizard in peacock-blue robes looked up as they approached and put down his Daily Prophet.
"I'm escorting a visitor," said Arthur, gesturing toward Harry.
"Step over here," said the wizard in a bored voice.
Harry walked closer to him and the wizard held up a long golden rod, thin and flexible as a car aerial, and passed it up and down Harry's front and back.
"Wand," grunted the security wizard at Harry, putting down the golden instrument and holding out his hand.
Harry produced his wand. The wizard dropped it onto a strange brass instrument, which looked something like a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore this off and read the writing upon it.
"Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use four years. That correct?"
"Yes," said Harry nervously.
"I keep this," said the wizard, impaling the slip of parchment on a small brass spike. "You get this back," he added, thrusting the wand at Harry."
"Hang on..." said the wizard slowly.
His eyes had darted from the silver visitor's badge on Harry's chest to his forehead.
"Thank you, Eric," said Arthur firmly, and grasping Harry on the shoulder, he steered him away from the desk and back into the stream of wizards and witches walking through the golden gates.