Adventures of Harriet Potter

The Hearing

Harriet gasped; she could not help herself. The large dungeon she had entered was horribly familiar. She had not only seen it before, she had been here before: This was the place she had visited inside Dumbledore's Pensieve, the place where she 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 her, 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 Harriet an ominous silence fell. A cold male voice rang across the courtroom. "You're late." he said with distaste. "Sorry," said Harriet 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." Harriet dropped her gaze to the chair in the center of the room, the arms of which were covered in chains. She had seen those chains spring to life and bind whoever sat between them. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she walked across the stone floor. When she sat gingerly on the edge of the chair the chains clinked rather threateningly but did not bind her. Feeling rather sick she looked up at the people seated at the bench above. There were about fifty of them, all, as far as she 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 her, 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 Harriet. 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. "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 Harriet knew. Ron's brother Percy was sitting at the very end of the front bench. Harriet 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.
"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," said Fudge in a ringing voice, and Percy began taking notes at once, "into offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harriet Lily 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 —"
"— Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," said a quiet voice from behind Harriet, who turned her head so fast she cricked her 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 Harriet 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.
A powerful emotion had risen in Harriet's chest at the sight of Dumbledore, a fortified, hopeful feeling rather like that which phoenix song gave her. She wanted to catch Dumbledore's eye, but Dumbledore was not looking her way; he was continuing to look up at the obviously flustered Fudge. "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." Harriet suspected Dumbledore being three hours early wasn't a mistake, since — now sitting before him and seeing how flustered he was — Fudge must've been planning this from the start. "Yes — well — I suppose we'll need another chair — I — Weasley, could you — ?" Fudge said. "Not to worry, not to worry," said Dumbledore pleasantly; he took out his wand, gave it a little flick, and a squashy chintz armchair appeared out of nowhere next to Harriet. Dumbledore sat down, put the tips of his long fingers together, and looked at Fudge over them with an expression of polite interest. The Wizengamot was still muttering and fidgeting restlessly; only when Fudge spoke again did they settle down.
"Yes," said Fudge again, shuffling his notes. "Well, then. So. The charges. Yes." He extricated a piece of parchment from the pile before him, took a deep breath, and read, "The charges against the accused are as follows: That she did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of her actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, on August the second at twenty-three minutes past nine, which constitutes an offense under paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under section thirteen of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy. You are Harriet Lily Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?" Fudge said, glaring at Harriet over the top of his parchment.
"Yes," Harriet said. "You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?" Fudge pressed determinedly. "Yes, but —" she started, thinking she might stand a chance. "And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?" said Fudge. "Yes," said Harriet, "but —" she tried telling her side again. "Knowing that you are not permitted to use magic outside school while you are under the age of seventeen?" Fudge said with a bit of glee at having caught her for something. "Yes, but —" Harriet said, trying to get a word in between the incriminating grilling Fudge was giving her. "Knowing that you were in an area full of Muggles?" he continued to press, as if he were after a confession in order to lock her away until he won reelection. "Yes, but —" Harriet said determinedly, trying to get past the grilling. "Fully aware that you were in close proximity to a Muggle at the time?" said Fudge with a smirk. "Yes," said Harriet angrily, "but I only used it because we were —"
The witch with the monocle on Fudge's left cut across him in a booming voice. "You produced a fully fledged Patronus?" she said, sounding impressed. "Yes," said Harriet, "because —" not sure where this was going. "A corporeal Patronus?" the witch said. "A — what?" said Harriet. "Your Patronus had a clearly defined form? I mean to say, it was more than vapor or smoke?" she clarified. "Yes," said Harriet, feeling both impatient and slightly desperate, "it's a stag, it's always a stag."
"Always?" boomed Madam Bones. "You have produced a Patronus before now?" Sounding immensely impressed. "Yes," said Harriet, "I've been doing it for over a year —" She still didn't know where this was going. "And you are fifteen years old?" Madam Bones said, sounding like she was investigating the situation. "Yes, and —" Harriet said truthfully. "You learned this at school?" asked Madam Bones. "Yes, Professor Lupin taught me in my third year, because of the —" said Harriet, thinking she was finally going to tell her story. "Impressive," said Madam Bones, staring down at her, "a true Patronus at that age . . . very impressive indeed." Some of the wizards and witches around her were muttering again; a few nodded, but others were frowning and shaking their heads.
"It's not a question of how impressive the magic was," said Fudge in a testy voice. "In fact, the more impressive the worse it is, I would have thought, given that the girl did it in plain view of a Muggle!" Those who had been frowning now murmured in agreement, but it was the sight of Percy's sanctimonious little nod that goaded Harriet into speech. "I did it because of the dementors!" she said loudly, before anyone could interrupt her again. She had expected more muttering, but the silence that fell seemed to be somehow denser than before. "Dementors?" said Madam Bones after a moment, raising her thick eyebrows so that her monocle looked in danger of falling out. "What do you mean, girl?"
"I mean there were two dementors down that alleyway and they went for me and my cousin!" Harriet said, letting honesty ring in every word she said since they hadn't forced Veritaserum down her throat or employed a Legillimens to be sure she told the truth during the hearing. "Ah," said Fudge again, smirking unpleasantly as he looked around at the Wizengamot, as though inviting them to share the joke. "Yes. Yes, I thought we'd be hearing something like this."
"Dementors in Little Whinging?" Madam Bones said in tones of great surprise. "I don't understand —" She clearly wasn't entirely on board with defacing Harriet publicly. "Don't you, Amelia?" said Fudge, still smirking. "Let me explain. She's been thinking it through and decided dementors would make a very nice little cover story, very nice indeed. Muggles can't see dementors, can they, boy? Highly convenient, highly convenient . . . so it's just your word and no witnesses . . ." He sounded extremely skeptical, as if he were dealing with the boy who cried wolf. "I'm not lying!" said Harriet loudly, over another outbreak of muttering from the court. "There were two of them, coming from opposite ends of the alley, everything went dark and cold and my cousin felt them and ran for it —"
"Enough, enough!" said Fudge with a very supercilious look on his face. "I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm sure would have been a very well-rehearsed story —" Dumbledore cleared his throat. The Wizengamot fell silent again. "We do, in fact, have a witness to the presence of dementors in that alleyway," he said, "other than Dudley Dursley, I mean." Fudge's plump face seemed to slacken, as though somebody had let air out of it. He stared down at Dumbledore for a moment or two, then, with the appearance of a man pulling himself back together, said, "We haven't got time to listen to more taradiddles, I'm afraid, Dumbledore. I want this dealt with quickly —"
"I may be wrong," said Dumbledore pleasantly, "but I am sure that under the Wizengamot Charter of Rights, the accused has the right to present witnesses for his or her case? Isn't that the policy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Bones?" he continued, addressing the witch in the monocle. "True," said Madam Bones. "Perfectly true." Harriet wondered who her witness was. "Oh, very well, very well," snapped Fudge. "Where is this person?" He sounded like he didn't believe there was a reasonable chance Harriet could get off the hook. "I brought her with me," said Dumbledore. "She's just outside the door. Should I — ?"
"No — Weasley, you go," Fudge barked at Percy, who got up at once, hurried down the stone steps from the judge's balcony, and hastened past Dumbledore and Harriet without glancing at them. A moment later, Percy returned, followed by Mrs. Figg. She looked scared and more batty than ever. Harriet wished she had thought to change out of her carpet slippers. Dumbledore stood up and gave Mrs. Figg his chair, conjuring a second one for himself. "Full name?" said Fudge loudly, when Mrs. Figg had perched herself nervously on the very edge of her seat.
"Arabella Doreen Figg," said Mrs. Figg in her quavery voice. "And who exactly are you?" said Fudge, in a bored and lofty voice. "I'm a resident of Little Whinging, close to where Harriet Potter lives," said Mrs. Figg. "We have no record of any witch or wizard living in Little Whinging other than Harriet Potter," said Madam Bones at once. "That situation has always been closely monitored, given . . . given past events." Harriet squirmed. "I'm a Squib," said Mrs. Figg. "So you wouldn't have me registered, would you?"
"A Squib, eh?" said Fudge, eyeing her suspiciously. "We'll be checking that. You'll leave details of your parentage with my assistant, Weasley. Incidentally, can Squibs see dementors?" he added, looking left and right along the bench where he sat. "Yes, we can!" said Mrs. Figg indignantly. Fudge looked back down at her, his eyebrows raised. "Very well," he said coolly. "What is your story?" His posture indicating he was going to settle in for a long, unlikely story. "I had gone out to buy cat food from the corner shop at the end of Wisteria Walk, shortly after nine on the evening of the second of August," gabbled Mrs. Figg at once, as though she had learned what she was saying by heart, "when I heard a disturbance down the alleyway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk. On approaching the mouth of the alleyway I saw dementors running —"
"Running?" said Madam Bones sharply. "Dementors don't run, they glide." Almost as if poking a hole in the story. "That's what I meant to say," said Mrs. Figg quickly, patches of pink appearing in her withered cheeks. "Gliding along the alley toward what looked like one boy and one girl." Harriet shuddered, remembering it from her point of view all too clearly. "What did they look like?" said Madam Bones, narrowing her eyes so that the monocle's edges disappeared into her flesh. "Well, one was very large, obviously male and the other one rather skinny and obviously female —" Mrs. Figg said confidently. "No, no," said Madam Bones impatiently, "the dementors . . . describe them."
"Oh," said Mrs. Figg, the pink flush creeping up her neck now. "They were big. Big and wearing cloaks." Harriet felt a horrible sinking in the pit of her stomach. Whatever Mrs. Figg said to the contrary, it sounded to her as though the most she had ever seen was a picture of a dementor, and a picture could never convey the truth of what these beings were like: the eerie way they moved, hovering inches over the ground, or the rotting smell of them, or that terrible, rattling noise they made as they sucked on the surrounding air . . . A dumpy wizard with a large black mustache in the second row leaned close to his neighbor, a frizzy-haired witch, and whispered something in her ear. She smirked and nodded. "Big and wearing cloaks," repeated Madam Bones coolly, while Fudge snorted derisively. "I see. Anything else?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Figg. "I felt them. Everything went cold, and this was a very warm summer's night, mark you. And I felt . . . as though all happiness had gone from the world . . . and I remembered . . . dreadful things . . ." Her voice shook and died. Madam Bones' eyes widened slightly. Harriet could see red marks under her eyebrow where the monocle had dug into it. "What did the dementors do?" she asked, and Harriet felt a rush of hope. "They went for the teenagers," said Mrs. Figg, her voice stronger and more confident now, the pink flush ebbing away from her face. "One of them had fallen. The other was backing away, trying to repel the dementor. That was Harriet. She tried twice and produced silver vapor. On the third attempt, she produced a Patronus, which charged down the first dementor and then, with her encouragement, chased away the second from her cousin. And that . . . that was what happened," Mrs. Figg finished, somewhat lamely.
Madam Bones looked down at Mrs. Figg in silence; Fudge was not looking at her at all, but fidgeting with his papers. Finally he raised his eyes and said, rather aggressively, "That's what you saw, is it?" He seemed determined to poke a hole in Harriet's airtight alibi. "That was what happened," Mrs. Figg repeated. "Very well," said Fudge. "You may go." Mrs. Figg cast a frightened look from Fudge to Dumbledore, then got up and shuffled off toward the door again. Harriet heard it thud shut behind her. "Not a very convincing witness," said Fudge loftily. "Oh, I don't know," said Madam Bones in her booming voice. "She certainly described the effects of a dementor attack very accurately. And I can't imagine why she would say they were there if they weren't —"
"But dementors wandering into a Muggle suburb and just happening to come across a witch?" snorted Fudge. "The odds on that must be very, very long, even Bagman wouldn't have bet —" Harriet wasn't so sure, if Bagman thought he had a reasonable chance of winning the bet he might've. "Oh, I don't think any of us believe the dementors were there by coincidence," said Dumbledore lightly. The witch sitting to the right of Fudge with her face in shadow moved slightly, but everyone else was quite still and silent. "And what is that supposed to mean?" asked Fudge icily.
"It means that I think they were ordered there," said Dumbledore. "I think we might have a record of it if someone had ordered a pair of dementors to go strolling through Little Whinging!" barked Fudge. "Not if the dementors are taking orders from someone other than the Ministry of Magic these days," said Dumbledore calmly. "I have already given you my views on this matter, Cornelius." Harriet could feel the power emenating off of Dumbledore just sitting there. "Yes, you have," said Fudge forcefully, "and I have no reason to believe that your views are anything other than bilge, Dumbledore. The dementors remain in place in Azkaban and are doing everything we ask them to."
"Then," said Dumbledore, quietly but clearly, "we must ask ourselves why somebody within the Ministry ordered a pair of dementors into that alleyway on the second of August." In the complete silence that greeted these words, the witch to the right of Fudge leaned forward so that Harriet saw her for the first time. She thought she looked just like a large, pale toad. She was rather squat with a broad, flabby face, as little neck as Uncle Vernon, and a very wide, slack mouth. Her eyes were large, round, and slightly bulging. Even the little black velvet bow perched on top of her short curly hair put her in mind of a large fly she was about to catch on a long sticky tongue.
"The Chair recognizes Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister," said Fudge. The witch spoke in a fluttery, girlish, high-pitched voice that took Harriet aback; she had been expecting a croak. "I'm sure I must have misunderstood you, Professor Dumbledore," she said with a simper that left her big, round eyes as cold as ever. "So silly of me. But it sounded for a teensy moment as though you were suggesting that the Ministry of Magic had ordered an attack on this girl!" She gave a silvery laugh that made the hairs on the back of Harriet's neck stand up. A few other members of the Wizengamot laughed with her. It could not have been plainer that not one of them was really amused. "If it is true that the dementors are taking orders only from the Ministry of Magic, and it is also true that two dementors attacked Harriet and her cousin a week ago, then it follows logically that somebody at the Ministry might have ordered the attacks," said Dumbledore politely. "Of course, these particular dementors may have been outside Ministry control —"
"There are no dementors outside Ministry control!" snapped Fudge, who had turned brick red. Dumbledore inclined his head in a little bow. "Then undoubtedly the Ministry will be making a full inquiry into why two dementors were so very far from Azkaban and why they attacked without authorization." Harriet shivered at the tone in Dumbledore's voice. "It is not for you to decide what the Ministry of Magic does or does not do, Dumbledore!" snapped Fudge, now a shade of magenta of which Uncle Vernon would have been proud. "Of course it isn't," said Dumbledore mildly. "I was merely expressing my confidence that this matter will not go uninvestigated." He glanced at Madam Bones, who readjusted her monocle and stared back at him, frowning slightly. "I would remind everybody that the behavior of these dementors, if indeed they are not figments of this girl's imagination, is not the subject of this hearing!" said Fudge. "We are here to examine Harriet Potter's offenses under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery!"
"Of course we are," said Dumbledore, "but the presence of dementors in that alleyway is highly relevant. Clause seven of the Decree states that magic may be used before Muggles in exceptional circumstances, and as those exceptional circumstances include situations that threaten the life of the wizard or witch himself, or witches, wizards, or Muggles present at the time of the —"
"We are familiar with clause seven, thank you very much!" snarled Fudge. "Of course you are," said Dumbledore courteously. "Then we are in agreement that Harriet's use of the Patronus Charm in these circumstances falls precisely into the category of exceptional circumstances it describes?" Harriet hoped the Ministry played by its own laws still. "If there were dementors, which I doubt —" Fudge said heatedly. "You have heard from an eyewitness," Dumbledore interrupted. "If you still doubt her truthfulness, call her back, question her again. I am sure she would not object."
"I — that — not —" blustered Fudge, fiddling with the papers before him. "It's — I want this over with today, Dumbledore!" He seemed determined to punish Harriet for something. "But naturally, you would not care how many times you heard from a witness, if the alternative was a serious miscarriage of justice," said Dumbledore. "Serious miscarriage, my hat!" said Fudge at the top of his voice. "Have you ever bothered to tot up the number of cock-and-bull stories this girl has come out with, Dumbledore, while trying to cover up her flagrant misuse of magic out of school? I suppose you've forgotten the Hover Charm she used three years ago —"
"That wasn't me, it was a house-elf!" said Harriet, having not even told anyone except for Ron, Fred and George about that. The Ministry hadn't even gone to these lengths over that incident, for which Harriet was almost relieved. "YOU SEE?" roared Fudge, gesturing flamboyantly in Harriet's direction. "A house-elf! In a Muggle house! I ask you —" It did sound preposterous, even to Harriet's ears — and she was there to witness it. "The house-elf in question is currently in the employ of Hogwarts School," said Dumbledore. "I can summon him here in an instant to give evidence if you wish."
"I — not — I haven't got time to listen to house-elves! Anyway, that's not the only — she blew up her aunt, for God's sake!" Fudge shouted, banging his fist on the judge's bench and upsetting a bottle of ink. "And you very kindly did not press charges on that occasion, accepting, I presume, that even the best witches and wizards cannot always control their emotions," said Dumbledore calmly, as Fudge attempted to scrub the ink off his notes. "And I haven't even started on what she gets up to at school —" said Fudge, definitely determined to punish Harriet for something at this point. "— but as the Ministry has no authority to punish Hogwarts students for misdemeanors at school, Harriet's behavior there is not relevant to this inquiry," said Dumbledore, politely as ever, but now with a suggestion of coolness behind his words. "Oho!" said Fudge. "Not our business what he does at school, eh? You think so?"
"The Ministry does not have the power to expel Hogwarts students, Cornelius, as I reminded you on the night of the second of August," said Dumbledore. "Nor does it have the right to confiscate wands until charges have been successfully proven, again, as I reminded you on the night of the second of August. In your admirable haste to ensure that the law is upheld, you appear, inadvertently I am sure, to have overlooked a few laws yourself." Harriet found that interesting, and intended to research it thoroughly when she got back to Hogwarts. "Laws can be changed," said Fudge savagely. "Of course they can," said Dumbledore, inclining his head. "And you certainly seem to be making many changes, Cornelius. Why, in the few short weeks since I was asked to leave the Wizengamot, it has already become the practice to hold a full criminal trial to deal with a simple matter of underage magic!"
A few of the wizards above them shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Fudge turned a slightly deeper shade of puce. The toadlike witch on his right, however, merely gazed at Dumbledore, her face quite expressionless. "As far as I am aware, however," Dumbledore continued, "there is no law yet in place that says this court's job is to punish Harriet for every bit of magic she has ever performed. She has been charged with a specific offense and she has presented her defense. All she and I can do now is to await your verdict." Dumbledore put his fingertips together again and said no more. Fudge glared at him, evidently incensed. Harriet glanced sideways at Dumbledore, seeking reassurance; she was not at all sure that Dumbledore was right in telling the Wizengamot, in effect, that it was about time they made a decision. Again, however, Dumbledore seemed oblivious to Harriet's attempt to catch his eye. He continued to look up at the benches where the entire Wizengamot had fallen into urgent, whispered conversations.
Harriet looked at her feet. Her heart, which seemed to have swollen to an unnatural size, was thumping loudly under her ribs. She had expected the hearing to last longer than this. She was not at all sure that she had made a good impression. She had not really said very much. She ought to have explained more fully about the dementors, about how she had fallen over, about how both she and Dudley had nearly been kissed. . . . Twice she looked up at Fudge and opened her mouth to speak, but her swollen heart was now constricting her air passages and both times she merely took a deep breath and looked back at her shoes. Then the whispering stopped. Harriet wanted to look up at the judges, but found that it was really much, much easier to keep examining her laces.
"Those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?" said Madam Bones's booming voice. Harriet's head jerked upward. There were hands in the air, many of them . . . more than half! Breathing very fast, she tried to count, but before she could finish Madam Bones had said, "And those in favor of conviction?" Fudge raised his hand; so did half a dozen others, including the witch on his right and the heavily mustached wizard and the frizzy-haired witch in the second row. Fudge glanced around at them all, looking as though there was something large stuck in his throat, then lowered his own hand. He took two deep breaths and then said, in a voice distorted by suppressed rage, "Very well, very well . . . cleared of all charges." His expression indicated he wished he could say the opposite. "Excellent," said Dumbledore briskly, springing to his feet, pulling out his wand, and causing the two chintz armchairs to vanish. "Well, I must be getting along. Good day to you all." And without looking once at Harriet, he swept from the dungeon.

Dumbledore's POV
I could feel her gaze on my back and felt immensely guilty, wishing I could explain to her why I had to distance myself from her. Even now I could feel two presences from where Harriet sat, though I was confused as the second felt more innocent than her — as if she were carrying a freshly conceived child within her. But that was impossible, I knew she brewed Contraceptive Potion from what Severus told me. Even if she had a Muggle lover on Privet Drive the chances of her getting pregnant were impossible, unless she — in the chaos of the tournament and saving young Mr. Diggory's life — didn't have enough when she returned to Privet Drive. But surely that didn't happen. Did it?