Infinite Magic (Male Reader x Harry Potter)

The Hearing

Harry gasped.  He could not help himself.  The large dungeon he had entered was horribly familiar.  He had not only seen it before, he had been here before.  This was the place he had visited inside Dumbledore's Pensieve, the place where he had watched the Lestranges sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban.  The walls were made of dark stone, dimly lit by torches.  Empty benches rose on either side of him, but ahead, in the highest benches of all, were many shadowy figures.  They had been talking in low voices, but as the heavy door swung closed behind Harry an ominous silence fell.  A cold male voice rang across the courtroom.

???: You're late.

Harry: Sorry.  I-I didn't know the time had changed.

???: That is not the Wizengamot's fault.  An owl was sent to you this morning.  Take your seat.

Harry dropped his gaze to the chair in the center 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 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 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 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 gray 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.

Fudge: Very well.  The accused being present, finally, let us begin.  Are you ready?

Percy: Yes, sir.

Harry looked at Percy, expecting some sign of recognition from him, but none came.  Percy's eyes, behind his horn rimmed glasses, were fixed on his parchment, a quill poised in his hand.

Fudge: Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August, into offenses 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.  Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley-

Dumbledore: Witnesses for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and YN Satoru Gojo.

Harry 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.  YN was walking next to Dumbledore with his hands in his pockets, wearing the same dress robes he'd been wearing at the Yule Ball, and his pitch black glasses.  The members of the Wizengamot were muttering.  All eyes were now on YN and Dumbledore.  Some looked annoyed, others slightly frightened.  Two elderly witches in the back row, however, raised their hands and waved in welcome.  A powerful emotion had risen in Harry's chest at the sight of them, a fortified, hopeful feeling rather like that which phoenix song gave him.  He wanted to catch Dumbledore's eye, but Dumbledore was not looking his way.  He was continuing to look up at the obviously flustered Fudge.