The dark crown

Chapter 6

Shadows of Justice

The trials had begun, the air heavy with a blend of hope and vengeance as the wizarding community came together to confront its scars. Harry watched from a distance as the courtroom filled, the faces of the public tense and expectant. It was clear that the Ministry and his council had carefully structured the order of the proceedings, beginning with the most grievous offenders, the ones whose guilt was blatant and whose crimes were unspeakable. Those Death Eaters who showed no remorse, whose atrocities were evident and who wore their dark allegiance proudly, were the first to face their fate. The crowd needed to see justice served quickly, to feel the satisfaction of a Dementor’s Kiss or a life sentence without parole for those who had torn families apart and stained the magical world with fear.

Harry understood that this was more than a strategy; it was an act of mercy for the wizarding world. These initial verdicts would be a balm, a reassurance that the darkest threats were being addressed swiftly and with severity. It was a way to ease the fury and grief, to allow space for the community to breathe before tackling the complicated cases—those who had been coerced, the young followers of Voldemort who were barely adults themselves, or those who claimed ignorance. For now, justice was focused on the most unforgiving, and the people responded with fierce approval.

Despite his responsibilities, Harry had taken the weekend to visit the Burrow. Being around the Weasleys felt like a reprieve from the darkness that hovered over the trials. They were some of the only people who continued to treat him like the young boy they had first met, as if he were still the scruffy eleven-year-old who’d stumbled into their lives with wide eyes and wonder. That sense of familiarity was a rare comfort, and he appreciated the warmth of their unchanging acceptance.

Over breakfast, Ron sat beside him, enthusiastically recounting stories from Auror training. "I swear, mate," Ron chuckled, "the drills they put us through are mad! I’ve already got bruises from learning new defensive spells."

Harry grinned, though he felt a twinge of envy. "I can imagine. I’ve always thought I’d end up there too, y’know? Us, tackling dark wizards side by side. But...things just turned out differently."

Ron placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. "You’re right where you need to be, Harry. The trials—you’re doing more there than any Auror could."

Just as Harry was about to respond, George joined them, his mischievous grin a refreshing sight in the midst of such grim times. "Alright, Harry," George began, clapping his hands together as if preparing for a sales pitch. "I’ve been thinking—if the world ever needed a laugh, it’s now. People need a way to forget, even if it’s just for a few hours. So, how about we take the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to some new height, have some new ventures with it? I’m thinking comedy shows, magic pranks, events… what do you think? Interested?."

Harry laughed, appreciating George’s usual spark. "You really think people would go for that?"

"Oh, absolutely!" George replied. "Humor is healing, mate. Just like that time I turned Ron’s room into a miniature swamp." He nudged Ron, who rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide a grin. "People need that escape, especially now."

"Well," Harry said thoughtfully, "this sounds like exactly what we could all use. I’ll bring it up with Kornug. He might actually be impressed that I’m taking a closer look at the vault and putting it to better use."

Harry was assigned a new, trusted goblin to manage his finances—one who brought along some significant changes in Gringotts' management. The new policies were progressive, impressing Harry, who was pleased to see that the bank was evolving in a way that aligned with his own vision for the future.