Getaway Car

The Hearing.

"You're late," a cold male voice rang across the courtroom. 
(Y/n) glared at him. She sat to the left of Amelia Bones' with her hands holding a leather notebook in her lap. It was only (Y/n)'s fourth day working at the Ministry and she was already allowed into such an important hearing.
There were many shadowy figures seated on the highest benches in Courtroom Ten. 

"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 sick, he looked up at the people seated at the bench above. He felt comforted ever so slightly by (Y/n) whose white button-up and brown plaid pants with a built-in built stood out against the clothing of the Wizengamot.
There were about fifty of them, all, as Harry 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. 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 Harry. A broad, square-jawed witch with very short grey hair sat on Fudge's left; she wore a monocle and looked forbidding. This was Amelia Bones, whom (Y/n) nervously sat beside, holding a large leather notebook against her stomach. 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 known as Percy Weasley, who was sitting at the very end of the front bench. 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 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 at the time.
"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, 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.
The members of the Wizengamot were muttering. 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.

"Ah," said Fudge, who looked thoroughly disconcerted. "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, so no harm done.

"Yes— well— I suppose we'll need another chair— I— (Y/l/n), could you—?"