⌗ ⌗ ⌗
It had been a week and a half since Harry Potter had been attacked by Dementors. After being successfully rescued from the Dursley's house, Harry had spent his time living grouchily within the walls of 12 Grimmauld Place.
For as hard as he pressed the adult inhabitants of the dark house about the whereabouts of his sister, they kept their lips sealed shut equally as persistently. Harry, along with the rest of the teenagers in Grimmauld Place, would listen in on every meeting that Mrs Weasley forgot to cast a silencing charm on the room for, though they were rare, and not once could he hear the familiar tone of his sister's voice seeping from under the door, nor did anyone mention her name or location.
The morning of his hearing at the Ministry, Harry woke up early after a poor sleep and walked downstairs with the odd beat of a funeral march humming through his head. He had expected the kitchen to be empty, but it was not. When he reached the door he heard the soft rumble of voices on the other side and when he pushed it open he saw Mr and Mrs Weasley, Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks sitting there almost as though they were waiting for him.
His insides were squirming. Mrs Weasley placed a couple of pieces of toast and marmalade in front of him; he tried to eat, but it was like chewing carpet. Mrs Weasley sat down 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.
"I'll cover for you," said Mr Weasley. "I'm okay, I've got a report to finish anyway..."
Mr Weasley 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. He would feel better if she was by his side.
"It'll all be over soon," Mr Weasley said bracingly. "In a few hours' time, you'll be cleared."
Harry said nothing. Somewhere deep within him, he pushed back the thought that maybe, if he got expelled, she'd come back.
"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, still unable to think of anything to say.
"Don't lose your temper," said Sirius abruptly. "Be polite and stick to the facts."
Harry nodded again. She would have told him 'Don't be so angry, Harry. The whole world may be against you, but you'll always have me.'
He didn't have her.
"The law's on your side," said Lupin quietly. "Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations."
Something very cold trickled down the back of Harry's neck; for a moment he thought someone was putting a Disillusionment Charm on him again, then he realized that Mrs Weasley 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.
Harry shook his head. His whole life, she had been the one trying to fix his messy hair, the one who would always go around after him trying to keep his life together to the best of her ability. Her boyfriend died but to Harry, it felt as though his sister had too.
Mr Weasley 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 Lupin. "I'm sure it will be fine."
⌗ ⌗ ⌗
"You're late."
"Sorry," said Harry nervously. "I-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."
Harry dropped his gaze to the chair in the centre of the room, the arms of which were covered in chains. His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked across the stone floor. When he sat gingerly on the edge of the chair the chains clinked rather threateningly but did not bind him. Feeling rather sick he looked up at the people seated at the bench above.
There were about fifty of them, all, as far as he could see, wearing plum-coloured robes with an elaborately worked silver W on the left- hand side of the chest and all staring down their noses at him, 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, who was absent of his usual lime-green bowler hat. 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." He cleared his throat before proceeding, "Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," said Fudge in a ringing voice, "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 of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister—"
"— Witness for the defence, Iris Lily Potter," said a quiet voice from behind Harry, who turned his head so fast he cricked his neck.
"As well as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."
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.
The members of the Wizengamot were muttering. Almost all eyes were now on Dumbledore. Some looked annoyed, others slightly frightened; two elderly witches in the back row, however, raised their hands and waved in welcome.
Perhaps the only person in the room not looking at the Headmaster of Hogwarts was Harry himself, who couldn't drag his eyes away from his sister.
It had only been a month since he had last seen her, yet she looked different. Harry supposed that was bound to happen when you spend so long with someone and then suddenly part. The usually present lines from her constant smiles were missing from her pale face. Her hazel eyes, which once were sparkling with laughter and joy were now dull and dark. Worst of all maybe was the single fact that she was looking anywhere in the room beside him.
A powerful emotion had risen in Harry's chest at the sight of the two of them, a fortified, hopeful feeling rather like that which phoenix song gave him. He wanted to catch Dumbledore's eye, but Dumbledore, much like Iris, was not looking his way; he was continuing to look up at the obviously flustered Fudge.
"Ah," said Fudge, who looked thoroughly disconcerted. "Miss Potter... Dumbledore. Yes. You — er — got our — er — message that the time and — er — place of the hearing had been changed, then?"
"I must have missed it," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "However, due to a lucky mistake, I arrived at the Ministry three hours early and ran into Miss Potter on her way down here, so no harm done." He waited a moment before speaking in a more serious tone, "Charges?"
"Yes," said Fudge again, shuffling his notes. "Well, then. So. The charges. Yes."
He extricated a piece of parchment from the pile before him, took a deep breath, and read, "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 the presence of a Muggle." Fudge turned his harsh eyes down onto Harry, "Do you deny producing said Patronus?"
"No, but—"
"And you were aware that you are forbidden to use magic outside of school while under the age of seventeen?" said Fudge.
"Yes, I was," said Harry, "but—"
Fudge, satisfied with that response cut him off once more, "Witches and Wizards of the Wizenagamot—"
"I only did it because of the dementors!" Harry said loudly, before anyone could interrupt him again.
He had expected more muttering, but the silence that fell seemed to be somehow denser than before.
"Dementors? In Little Whinging?" said Madam Bones after a moment, raising her thick eyebrows so that her monocle looked in danger of falling out.
Fudge chuckled bitterly, "That's quite clever. Muggles can't see Dementors... Highly convenient."
Harry felt his temper flare for just a moment, "I'm not lying! There were two of them, and if I hadn't—"
"Enough!" Fudge snapped, cutting him off, "I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm sure would have been a very well-rehearsed story, but as you can produce no witnesses—"
"Pardon me, Minister," Dumbledore suddenly spoke, "but as it happens... we can."
Harry could feel his heart beating fast in his chest, a wash of anger settling over him at the ridiculousness of the trial. His jaw clenched as he stewed, until out of nowhere, a small whisper at the back of his mind distracted him. Harry couldn't tell what it was saying, but when he suddenly felt all the anger leave him, replaced with peacefulness and joy, he came to his own conclusion. He looked to his side just in time to see his sister turn her head away from him.
Less than a minute later, none other than the Dursley's neighbour, Mrs Figg, took Harry's spot in the chair. Harry had moved to a seat on the benches only about a meter away from where Iris was sitting. He wanted nothing more than to talk to her, but was far too nervous to do anything other than concentrate on what his witness was saying about him. Mrs Figg looked quite odd in the fancy courtroom, dressed in her usual baggy blue trenchcoat and her carpet slippers.
Madam Bones began after a moment, "Please describe the attack... What did they look like?"
Mrs Figg shuffled uncomfortably in the chair, "Well... one was very large, and the other rather skinny—"
Almost everyone in the room had their brows furrowed in confusion at that.
"Not the boys, the Dementors," Fudge corrected the old lady.
Patches of pink appeared in her withered cheeks. "Oh. Right... Big... cloaked..." For just a moment, Dumbledore looked as though he had regretted bringing Mrs Figg along. She paused, a perplexed look coming across her face, "... then everything went cold... as though all the happiness had gone from the world..."
Her voice trembled before dying out.
"Now look here!" Fudge looked around at the Wizenagamot, as if telling a joke to his audience, "Dementors don't just wander into a Muggle suburb and happen across a wizard. The odds are astronomical!"
Harry looked to Dumbledore at that moment, who was appearing to be in a mutual stare-down with Iris, before the Headmaster looked back to Fudge, saying, "Oh, I don't think any of us believe the Dementors were there by coincidence, Minister."
The crowd murmurred.
Suddenly a loud and sharp voice rang throughout the room, "Hem hem..."
Fudge nodded, "The chair recognizes Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge."
The witch sitting to the right of Fudge, who was previously sitting too far back in the shadows to be seen, leaned forward, giving Harry his first look at her. Though she was wearing the same black cloak as everyone else in the Wizengamot, her entire ensemble beneath was bright pink with a black velvet bow perched high on top of her poofy short brown hair.
In a voice much too high pitched for how she looked, Umbridge said, "I'm sure I must have misunderstood you, Professor. Dementors are, after all, under the control of the Ministry of Magic... So silly of me, but it sounded for a moment as though... you were suggesting that the Ministry had ordered the attack on this boy!"
She let out a chilling, silvery giggle.
"That would be disturbing indeed, Madame Undersecretary... which is why I'm confident the Ministry will be making a full inquiry into why two Dementors were so very far from Azkaban, and why they attacked without authorization." Dumbledore said before looking right at Fudge, "Of course... there is another who might have been behind the attack."
Fudge went rigid. Dumbledore then stepped forward in a private appeal.
He spoke so softly to the Minister that Harry was unable to hear, however, the whole room heard Fudge hiss his response; "HE'S. NOT. BACK!"
Everyone waited in silence. Fudge was quivering with rage.
Dumbledore sighed deeply before quietly addresses the Panel, "In the matter of Harry Potter: the law plainly states that magic may be used before Muggles in life-threatening situations."
"Laws can be changed, Dumbledore." Fudge said angrily.
"Clearly—" Dumbledore spoke sternly, "If it has become practice to hold a full criminal trial to deal with a simple matter of underage magic."
Many of the wizards shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
Dumbledore put his fingertips together again and said no more. Fudge glared at him, evidently incensed. Harry glanced sideways at Dumbledore, seeking reassurance. Again, however, Dumbledore seemed oblivious to Harry's attempt to catch his eye. He continued to look up at the benches where the entire Wizengamot had fallen into urgent, whispered conversations.
Harry shifted his glance to Iris, who was still adamantly looking anywhere but his direction. He could tell she was nervous, though, because of the familiar way she would wring her hands together, her left foot tapping the stone floor at a fast pace.
Harry looked at his feet. His heart, which seemed to have swollen to an unnatural size, was thumping loudly under his ribs. He had expected the hearing to last longer than this. He was not at all sure that he had made a good impression. He had not really said very much. He ought to have explained more fully about the dementors, about how he had fallen over, about how both he and Dudley had nearly been kissed...
"Those in favor of conviction?" said Madam Bones' booming voice.
Harry's head jerked upward. He held his breath. Fudge and a half dozen others raise their hands, including Umbridge. Fudge's eyes narrowed in impotent fury.
The hands went down and Madam Bones continued, "Those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?"
Hands slowly rose, a few at first, then more, until most of the court was included.
Fudge glanced around at them all, looking as though there was something large stuck in his throat. He took two deep breaths and then said, in a voice distorted by suppressed rage, "Very well... cleared of all charges."
All at once, Harry felt a massive weight lift off of him. He turned gratefully to Dumbledore to thank him, only to find him already in conversation with Iris. As Harry stood from the bench, the elder Headmaster whispered one last thing to her before he turned and, without looking once at Harry, swept from the courtroom.
Iris hesitated, staring after Dumbledore for a moment before she stood and faced Harry.
"C'mon, we better get going." She avoided eye contact.
"We?" Harry muttered in mild shock.
Iris finally seemed to force herself to look at her brother as she spoke, "Yeah, I'm going back with you."
⌗ ⌗ ⌗
next chapter is literally going to be so angsty omfg
I've been getting a lot of comments about Iris' next love interest so I'd like to take a poll:
Who do you want Iris to end up with?
this ^^^ isn't guaranteeing anything, I just want to see where you guys are at and it might influence the results of the story if it fits with all my plans :) but anyway, hope you all liked the chapter!
btw if y'all could help me possibly get to 800 followers by the new year that would be ✨cool✨