Harry Potter: The Forgotten Chronicles- Book 5

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The atmosphere in Grimmauld Place had grown thick with tension. The old house seemed to echo with muffled arguments and hushed discussions that had become a regular occurrence. Even Harry and Evelyn, once close friends, now found themselves snapping at each other more frequently as their trial dates drew nearer.

"—And it's just typical, isn't it?" Harry was saying, his voice rising in exasperation. "Dumbledore keeps us in the dark, treats us like children, and expects us to just accept it! I'm done with being treated like I'm incapable of handling anything." His frustration was palpable as he paced the room, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

Evelyn, sitting at the edge of the room, rubbed her eyes, exhaustion evident on her face. She had heard this rant far too many times and felt her patience wearing thin. "Harry," she said, her voice soft but carrying an unmistakable edge, "you realize I'm actively on trial for murder, right?"

Harry stopped pacing and turned to her, his face flushed with frustration. "I know that," he snapped. "But this isn't just about me. It's about being kept in the dark. It's about not being trusted to handle things."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed, and she stood up, her posture rigid. "And it's not just about me, either. But I'm facing the very real possibility of losing my freedom, potentially being sent to Azkaban! And you're ranting about being treated like a teenager because...hmm...you're a teenager?" She added, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Harry's anger faltered as he took in her words. He sunk into a chair, sighing. "I'm just frustrated with everything, feeling powerless."

Evelyn's gaze relented slightly, as she sat down next to him. No matter how angry she had been, she never could seem to continue to be mad at Harry. "I get that you're frustrated. We all are. But focusing on what you can't control and lashing out at those around you isn't helping. We need to support each other, not let our frustrations drive us apart."

Harry looked down, his expression one of regret. "You're right. I-I'm sorry Evelyn"

Evelyn's expression softened, and she gave a small, tired smile. "Apology accepted. Let's just try to keep our focus on what really matters. We're facing these challenges together, and we need to be there for each other."

Harry nodded and stood, giving her a smile, exasperated smile before looking out to the room, his mind lost in thought.

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The day had finally come and Mr. Weasley escorted Evelyn and Harry out of the house and to the ministry. Before they left, Hermione and Ron gave them both tights hugs and words of encouragement. They followed Mr. Weasley to a phone booth, that they all squeezed into. After typing in a code, the booth started gliding downwards, as if it was an elevator. As they piled out, they saw the Ministry's lobby come into view. They were greeted by the sight of a vast, cavernous area with a high, arched ceiling that seems to stretch endlessly above. The floor was made of polished black marble, veined with veins of silver that catch the light and give the surface a subtle, reflective quality. It has a cold, smooth texture that contrasts with the warm ambiance of the flickering magical lamps. The walls are lined with dark oak paneling, giving a sense of gravity and formality to the space.

Evelyn and Harry followed Mr. Weasley into a packed lift. As Harry looked to his right, he saw a wizard reading another addition of the Daily Prophet. The headline read 'DUMBLEDORE: Daft or Dangerous?" Harry shot a look to Evelyn who shook her head at him, warning him not to say anything. As more and more floors were stopped at, people continued to get in and out.

Finally it was their floor, and the three squeezed out of the lift, following Mr. Weasley to the courtrooms.

As they walked down the corridor, Evelyn's gaze inadvertently fell upon Lucius Malfoy, who was deep in conversation with Cornelius Fudge. Malfoy's icy blue eyes met Harry's with a disdainful smirk. Harry's face flushed with anger, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass. Evelyn, however, avoided meeting Lucius's gaze, her breath catching in her throat as a shiver ran down her spine. The haunting familiarity of the Malfoy patriarch was unsettling.