Nothing In This World (BEING EDITED)

XXXVI.

Chapter XXXVI: A Blank Slate
Warning: Strong language and mentions of self-harm

Harry gasped; he could not help himself. The walls were made of dark stone, dimly lit by torches. Empty benches rose on either side of him. He noticed the many shady figures talking in low voices, but when the heavy doors swung closed behind him, an ominous silence fell.

"We'll be right over there, Harry," Lucius said pointing at a corner in the courtroom.

He nodded. "Please, don't leave, okay?"

"Don't worry son, we'll see you right after this is all over," said Lucius calmly. Arthur looked just as nervous as Harry but tried to keep the worry from his features.

"We won't let anything happen to you, love." He watched as his parents took their seats.

A cold male voice rang across the courtroom.

"You're late,"

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

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

Harry shrugged," an owl I never received sir. It was only when I got here was I notified last second that things had changed."

The dimly lit courtroom was filled with murmurs as the members of the Wizengamot took their seats. Harry stood at the center, looking around nervously. He knew the severity of the situation. Using magic outside of school was strictly forbidden, and he was fully aware of the potential consequences. His eyes searched the room until they landed on a familiar face - Albus Dumbledore, the venerable headmaster.

He felt exposed in the crowded courtroom, feeling the weight of the Ministry's disapproval pressing down on him. It was still so ridiculous that he had been summoned to stand trial for performing magic outside of school, when did protecting himself become against the law? The room was filled with murmurs and whispers as the spectators waited for the trial to begin.

At the center of the courtroom, the Wizengamot, the high court of wizarding law, sat in judgment. The members of the Wizengamot, robed and stern-faced, peered down at Harry from high-backed chairs, their expressions a mix of curiosity and severity. On one side of the room, Harry's parents Arthur Weasley-Malfoy and Lucius Weasley-Malfoy sat, their faces etched with worry.

"Take your seat so we can begin."

Harry dropped his gaze to the chair in the middle 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. His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked across the stone floor. When he sat gingerly on the edge of the chair the chains clicked 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-colored 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 looked of frank curiosity.

In the very middle of the front row sat Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic. Shacklebolt was a thin man who looked like he'd gone several rounds with a dragon; 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 gray hair sat on Shacklebolt's left; she wore a monocle and looked forbidding. On the Minister's right was another witch, but she was sitting so far back on the bench that her face was in shadow.