───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Blair woke up the next morning when Mrs. Weasley tapped her on the arm lightly. "Blair, dear. You have to wake up, no matter how much you might want to stay in bed." Mrs. Weasley whispered with a teasing grin.

Blair looked beside her and flushed when she saw Hermione sleeping with a soft smile. Mrs. Weasley giggled lightly before leaving the room. Blair stared at Hermione for a few moments with a soft smile. She was truly living her dreams right now. She gently removed her arms from Hermione's body and wore the ironed jeans and white shirt at the foot of her bed.

Blair pressed a soft kiss to Hermione's hand before quietly leaving the room. She started to think that this might be the last time that she would see Hermione again as a Hogwarts student. She better make it worth it.

Blair met with Harry at the foot of the staircase and smiled weakly. "Ready, James?"

Harry smiled back. "As I'll ever be, Aika."

They were surprised to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, Lupin and Tonks there, waiting for them. All were fully dressed except Mrs. Weasley, who was wearing a quilted, purple dressing gown. She leapt to her feet the moment they entered. "Breakfast," she said as she pulled out her wand and hurried over to the fire.

"M-m-morning, Aika, Harry," yawned Tonks. Her hair was blonde and curly this morning. "Sleep all right?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

"You sleep fine, Dora?" Blair asked worriedly.

"I've b-b-been up all night," Tonks said, with another shuddering yawn. "Come and sit down..." She drew out a chair, knocking over the one beside it in the process.

"What do you want, Blair, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley called. "Porridge? Muffins? Kippers? Bacon and eggs? Toast?"

"Just — just toast, thanks," said Harry.

"I'll have the same. Thank you, Mrs. Weasley." Blair said calmly, well, as calm as she could.

Lupin glanced at Blair and Harry, then said to Tonks, "What were you saying about Scrimgeour?"

"Oh... yeah... well, we need to be a bit more careful, he's been asking Kingsley and me funny questions..."

Blair tuned them out and rubbed the back of her neck over and over, trying to calm down her nerves. Mrs. Weasley placed a couple of pieces of toast and peanut butter and jelly in front of them. Harry took one piece of toast, but Blair didn't even take one. She wasn't really feeling like eating at the moment.

"Oh, Blair." Mrs. Weasley came to her and started fussing with her, fixing up her messy shirt and hair. Blair smiled before moving the toast around with her fork.

"...and I'll have to tell Dumbledore I can't do night duty tomorrow, I'm just t-t-too tired," Tonks finished, yawning hugely again.

"I'll cover for you," said Mr. Weasley. "I'm okay, I've got a report to finish anyway..." He turned from Tonks to Harry and Blair. "How are you feeling?"

Harry shrugged. Blair just smiled. "We'll be fine, Mr. Weasley."

"It'll all be over soon," Mr. Weasley said bracingly. "In a few hours' time you'll be cleared. The hearing's on my floor, in Amelia Bones's office. She's Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and she's the one who'll be questioning you."

"Amelia Bones is okay, Blair, Harry," said Tonks earnestly. "She's fair, she'll hear you out."

Blair and Harry nodded, unable to think of anything to say.

"Don't lose your temper," said Sirius abruptly. "Be polite and stick to the facts."

They nodded again.

"The law's on your side," said Lupin quietly. "Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations."

Blair looked beside her and snorted when she saw Mrs. Weasley trying to flatten Harry's hair.

"Doesn't it ever lie flat?" she said desperately. Harry shook his head. She turned to Blair and sighed. "Oh, Blair. Your hair!" 

Blair grinned guiltily. She must have messed it up unknowingly. As Mrs. Weasley fixed her hair again, Mr. Weasley checked his watch and looked up at Blair and Harry. "I think we'll go now," he said. "We're a bit early, but I think you'll be better off there than hanging around here."

"Okay," said Blair and Harry automatically, getting to their feet.

"You'll be all right, Aika, Harry," said Tonks, patting them on the arms.

"Good luck," said Lupin. "I'm sure it will be fine."

"And if it's not," said Sirius grimly, "I'll see to Amelia Bones for you..." Blair and Harry smiled weakly.

Mrs. Weasley hugged them. "We've all got our fingers crossed," she said.

"Right," said Harry. "Well... see you later then."

"See you." Blair waved goodbye to them before following Mr. Weasley upstairs and along the hall. Mr. Weasley unbolted the door and they stepped out into the cold, gray dawn.

"You don't normally walk to work, do you?" Harry asked him, as they set off briskly around the square.

"No, I usually Apparate," said Mr. Weasley, "but obviously you can't, and I think it's best we arrive in a thoroughly non-magical fashion... makes a better impression, given what you're being disciplined for..."

The run-down streets were almost deserted, but when they arrived at the miserable little Underground station they found it already full of early morning commuters. Blair looked around in wonder. "It's my first time. Harry, why didn't you tell me it was this amazing?" Harry chuckled lightly.

"Simply fabulous," Mr. Weasley whispered, indicating the automatic ticket machines. "Wonderfully ingenious."

"They're out of order," said Harry, pointing at the sign.

"Yes, but even so..." said Mr. Weasley, beaming fondly at them. They bought their tickets instead from a sleepy-looking guard and five minutes later they were boarding an Underground train that rattled them off toward the center of London.

Mr. Weasley kept anxiously checking and rechecking the Underground map above the windows. "Four stops, you two... three stops left now... two stops to go, Blair, Harry..." They got off at a station in the very heart of London, swept from the train in a tide of besuited men and women carrying briefcases. Up the escalator they went, through the ticket barrier and emerged onto a broad street lined with imposing-looking buildings, already full of traffic.

"Where are we?" said Mr. Weasley blankly.

Blair looked at him bewildered. "Mr. Weasley?"

A second later he said, "Ah yes... this way, Blair, Harry," and led them down a side road. "Sorry," he said, "but I never come by train and it all looks rather different from a Muggle perspective. As a matter of fact I've never even used the visitor's entrance before."

The farther they walked, the smaller and less imposing the buildings became, until finally they reached a street that contained several rather shabby-looking offices, a pub, and an overflowing dumpster. Blair was impressed. It was a good place to hide from the Muggles.

"Here we are," said Mr. Weasley brightly, pointing at an old red telephone box, which was missing several panes of glass and stood before a heavily graffittied wall. "After you, Harry, Blair." He opened the telephone box door. 

Blair stepped inside and Harry followed. Blair started wondering what they were going to do. Mr. Weasley went in and closed the door. Blair grunted when she was pushed against the wall. Mr. Weasley reached past Harry for the receiver.

"Mr. Weasley, I think this might be out of order too," Harry said.

"Please do it, whatever it is, now." Blair gasped out.

"No, no, I'm sure it's fine," said Mr. Weasley, holding the receiver above his head and peering at the dial. "Sorry, Blair. Let's see... six..." he dialed the number, "two... four... and another four... and another two..."

As the dial whirred smoothly back into place, a cool female voice sounded inside the telephone box, not from the receiver in Mr. Weasley's hand, but as loudly and plainly as though an invisible woman were standing right beside them. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Er..." said Mr. Weasley, clearly uncertain whether he should talk into the receiver or not, "Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, here to escort Blair Wood and Harry Potter, who have been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing..."

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitors, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

There was a click and a rattle, and Blair saw something slide out of the metal chute that looked like a small version of the cat flap in Harry's room. She picked it up: It was a square silver badge with Blair Wood, Disciplinary Hearing on it. She pinned it to the front of her shirt.

"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

The floor of the telephone box shuddered. They were sinking slowly into the ground. Blair watched with delight as the pavement rose up past the glass windows of the telephone box until darkness closed over their heads. Then she could see nothing at all; she could only hear a dull grinding noise as the telephone box made its way down through the earth. After about a minute, though it felt much longer to Blair, a chink of golden light illuminated her feet and, widening, rose up her body. Blair closed her eyes and felt it hit her in the face.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," said the woman's voice. The door of the telephone box sprang open and Mr. Weasley stepped out of it, followed by Harry and Blair. Harry's mouth had fallen open. Blair let out a chuckle. That was how she looked too the first time she saw the Ministry. Blair heard the pops and cracks of Apparators, who strode down towards the golden gates at the far end of the hall.

"This way," said Mr. Weasley. They joined the throng, wending their way between the Ministry workers, some of whom were carrying tottering piles of parchment, others battered briefcases, still others reading the Daily Prophet as they walked.

"Hey, Little B!" Someone said from behind them.

Blair turned around and smiled when she saw who it was. "Zoey!"

"I heard what happened. How are you feeling?" said Zoey in a concerned tone.

"Just well, Zoey," said Blair cheerfully. "Meet Mr. Weasley and Harry."

Zoey smiled before shaking their hands. "It's nice to meet you both." Mr. Weasley and Harry smiled back at her. She patted  Blair on the shoulder. "I'll get going now. Good luck, Little B!"

"Good luck with Dora, Zoey." Blair called out and chuckled when Zoey raised her finger in an unkind gesture before leaving. Blair, Harry and Mr. Weasley chuckled before they went on their way.

"Over here, Blair, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, and they stepped out of the stream of Ministry employees toward a desk on the left, over which hung a sign saying security. A badly shaven wizard in peacock-blue robes looked up as they approached and put down his Daily Prophet.

"I'm escorting visitors," said Mr. Weasley, gesturing toward Blair and Harry.

"Step over here," said the wizard in a bored voice. Blair and Harry walked closer to him and the wizard held up a long golden rod, and passed it up and down Harry's front and back before doing the same to Blair.

"Wands," grunted the security wizard at Blair and Harry, putting down the golden instrument and holding out his hand.

Blair and Harry handed him their wands. The wizard dropped Harry's onto a strange brass instrument, which looked something like a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore this off and read the writing upon it. "Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use four years. That correct?"

"Yes," said Harry nervously. The guard dropped Blair's onto the strange instrument next. Another strip of parchment came. "Twelve and a half inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use four years. Correct?"

"Yes, sir," said Blair quietly.

"I keep this," said the wizard, impaling the slips of parchment on a small brass spike. "You get these back," he added, thrusting the wands at Blair and Harry.

"Thank you."

"Hang on..." said the wizard slowly. His eyes had darted from the silver visitor's badge on Harry's chest to his forehead to Blair's face.

"Thank you, Eric," said Mr. Weasley firmly, and grasping Blair and Harry by the shoulders, he steered them away from the desk and back into the stream of wizards and witches walking through the golden gates. 

Blair and Harry followed Mr. Weasley through the gates into the smaller hall beyond, where at least twenty lifts stood behind wrought golden grilles. Blair, Harry and Mr. Weasley joined the crowd around one of them. 

A big, bearded wizard holding a large cardboard box stood nearby. The box was emitting rasping noises. "All right, Arthur?" said the wizard, nodding at Mr. Weasley.

"What've you got there, Bob?" asked Mr. Weasley, looking at the box.

"We're not sure," said the wizard seriously. "We thought it was a bog-standard chicken until it started breathing fire. Looks like a serious breach of the Ban on Experimental Breeding to me."

With a great jangling and clattering, a lift descended in front of them; the golden grille slid back and Blair, Harry and Mr. Weasley moved inside it with the rest of the crowd. Blair found herself jammed against the back wall of the lift. Several witches and wizards were looking at them curiously; Blair stared ahead to avoid their eyes. 

The grilles slid shut with a crash and the lift ascended slowly, chains rattling all the while, while the same cool female voice Blair had heard in the telephone box rang out again. "Level seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club, and Ludicrous Patents Office."

The lift doors opened; Blair glimpsed an untidy-looking corridor, with various posters of Quidditch teams tacked lopsidedly on the walls; one of the wizards in the lift, who was carrying an armful of broomsticks, extricated himself with difficulty and disappeared down the corridor.

The doors closed, the lift juddered upward again, and the woman's voice said, "Level six, Department of Magical Transport, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparation Test Center."

Once again the lift doors opened and four or five witches and wizards got out; at the same time, several paper airplanes swooped into the lift. Blair stared up at them as they flapped idly around above her head; they were a pale violet color and she could see MINISTRY OF MAGIC stamped along the edges of their wings.

"Just Interdepartmental memos," Mr. Weasley muttered to them. "We used to use owls, but the mess was unbelievable... droppings all over the desks..."

As they clattered upward again, the memos flapped around the swaying lamp in the lift's ceiling. "Level five, Department of International Magical Cooperation, incorporating the International Magical Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law, and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats."

When the doors opened, two of the memos zoomed out with a few more witches and wizards, but several more memos zoomed in, so that the light from the lamp in the ceiling flickered and flashed as they darted around it.

"Level four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau."

" 'S'cuse," said the wizard carrying the fire-breathing chicken and he left the lift pursued by a little flock of memos. The doors clanged shut yet again.

"Level three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee."

Everybody left the lift on this floor except Mr. Weasley, Blair, Harry, and a witch who was reading an extremely long piece of parchment that was trailing on the ground. The remaining memos continued to soar around the lamp as the lift juddered upward again, and then the doors opened and the voice said, "Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services."

"This is us, Blair, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, and they followed the witch out of the lift into a corridor lined with doors. "My office is on the other side of the floor."

"Mr. Weasley," said Harry, as they passed a window through which sunlight was streaming, "aren't we underground?"

"Yes, we are," said Mr. Weasley, "those are enchanted windows; Magical Maintenance decide what weather we're getting every day. We had two months of hurricanes last time they were angling for a pay raise... Just round here, you two."

They turned a corner, walked through a pair of heavy oak doors, and emerged in a cluttered, open area divided into cubicles, which were buzzing with talk and laughter. Memos were zooming in and out of cubicles like miniature rockets. A lopsided sign on the nearest cubicle read Auror headquarters.

Blair smiled widely before whispering to Harry. "Harry, this is where we trained."

"Morning, Weasley, Little B," said Kingsley carelessly, as they drew nearer.

"Hey, Kingsley," said Blair, waving at him.

Kingsley smiled at her before turning to Mr. Weasley. "Weasley, I've been wanting a word with you, have you got a second?"

"Yes, if it really is a second," said Mr. Weasley, "I'm in rather a hurry." They were talking to each other as though they hardly knew each other.

Blair's eyes widened. Mr. Weasley stepped on Harry's foot when Harry opened his mouth. They followed Kingsley along the row and into the very last cubicle. Blair frowned when she saw Sirius's face everywhere. Newspaper cuttings and old photographs.

"Here," said Kingsley brusquely to Mr. Weasley, shoving a sheaf of parchment into his hand, "I need as much information as possible on flying Muggle vehicles sighted in the last twelve months. We've received information that Black might still be using his old motorcycle."

Kingsley tipped Blair and Harry an enormous wink and added, in a whisper, "Give him the magazine, he might find it interesting." Then he said in normal tones, "And don't take too long, Weasley, the delay on that firelegs report held our investigation up for a month."

"If you had read my report you would know that the term is 'firearms,' " said Mr. Weasley coolly. "And I'm afraid you'll have to wait for information on motorcycles, we're extremely busy at the moment." He dropped his voice and said, "If you can get away before seven, Molly's making meatballs."

Mr. Weasley beckoned to Blair and Harry and led them out of Kingsley's cubicle, through a second set of oak doors, into another passage, turned left, marched along another corridor, turned right into a dimly lit and distinctly shabby corridor, and finally reached a dead end, where a door on the left stood ajar, revealing a broom cupboard, and a door on the right bore a tarnished brass plaque reading MISUSE OF MUGGLE ARTIFACTS.

When he opened the door, Blair let out a low whistle. "How can you do all this work, Mr. Weasley? I don't think I can do that."

"You get used to it, Blair." Mr. Weasley said with a chuckle. His office was filled with tottering piles of files, and there were posters of cars, and all sorts of Muggle things. Blair smiled sadly when she noticed a photograph of the Weasley family, but Percy wasn't there, probably walked out.

"We haven't got a window," said Mr. Weasley apologetically, taking off his bomber jacket and placing it on the back of his chair. "We've asked, but they don't seem to think we need one. Have a seat, doesn't look as if Perkins is in yet."

Blair sat down on a small space on Mr. Weasley's desk while Harry squeezed himself into the chair behind Perkins's desk while Mr. Weasley rifled through the sheaf of parchment Kingsley Shacklebolt had given him. "Ah," he said, grinning, as he extracted a copy of a magazine entitled The Quibbler from its midst, "yes..." He flicked through it. "Yes, he's right, I'm sure Sirius will find that very amusing — oh dear, what's this now?"

A memo had just zoomed in through the open door and fluttered to rest on top of the hiccuping toaster. Mr. Weasley unfolded it and read aloud, "'Third regurgitating public toilet reported in Bethnal Green, kindly investigate immediately.' This is getting ridiculous..."

"A regurgitating toilet?" Blair asked curiously.

"Anti-Muggle pranksters," said Mr. Weasley, frowning. "We had two last week, one in Wimbledon, one in Elephant and Castle. Muggles are pulling the flush and instead of everything disappearing — well, you can imagine. The poor things keep calling in those — those pumbles, I think they're called — you know, the ones who mend pipes and things —"

"Plumbers?" Harry supplied helpfully.

"— exactly, yes, but of course they're flummoxed. I only hope we can catch whoever's doing it."

"Will it be Aurors who catch them?"

"Oh no, Harry, this is too trivial for Aurors, it'll be the ordinary Magical Law Enforcement Patrol — ah, Blair, Harry, this is Perkins."

A stooped, timid-looking old wizard with fluffy white hair had just entered the room, panting. "Oh Arthur!" he said desperately, without looking at Harry or Blair. "Thank goodness, I didn't know what to do for the best, whether to wait here for you or not, I've just sent an owl to your home but you've obviously missed it — an urgent message came ten minutes ago —"

"I know about the regurgitating toilet," said Mr. Weasley.

"No, no, it's not the toilet, it's the Potter boy and Wood girl's hearing — they've changed the time and venue — it starts at eight o'clock now and it's down in old Courtroom Ten —"

"Down in old — but they told me — Merlin's beard —" Mr. Weasley looked at his watch, let out a yelp, and leapt from his chair. "Quick, Blair, Harry, we should have been there five minutes ago!" Perkins flattened himself against the filing cabinets as Mr. Weasley left the office at a run, Blair and Harry on his heels.

"Why have they changed the time?" Blair said breathlessly as they hurtled past the Auror cubicles. Blair felt her nerves rising again. She wasn't ready yet. And as she glanced at Harry, it looked like he wasn't too.

"I've no idea, but thank goodness we got here so early, if you'd missed it it would have been catastrophic!" Mr. Weasley skidded to a halt beside the lifts and jabbed impatiently at the down button. "Come ON!" The lift clattered into view and they hurried inside. Every time it stopped Mr. Weasley cursed furiously and pummeled the number nine button.

"Those courtrooms haven't been used in years," said Mr. Weasley angrily. "I can't think why they're doing it down there — unless — but no..." A plump witch carrying a smoking goblet entered the lift at that moment, and Mr. Weasley did not elaborate.

"The Atrium," said the cool female voice and the golden grilles slid open, showing them a distant glimpse of the golden statues in the fountain. The plump witch got out and a sallow-skinned wizard with a very mournful face got in.

"Morning, Arthur," the wizard said in a sepulchral voice as the lift began to descend. "Don't often see you down here..."

"Urgent business, Bode," said Mr. Weasley, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet and throwing anxious looks over at Blair and Harry.

"Ah, yes," said Bode, surveying Blair and Harry unblinkingly. "Of course." Blair felt uncomfortable at his gaze but didn't have any time to worry about it.

"Department of Mysteries," said the cool female voice, and left it at that.

"Quick, you two," said Mr. Weasley as the lift doors rattled open, and they sped up a corridor that was quite different from those above. The walls were bare; there were no windows and no doors apart from a plain black one set at the very end of the corridor. Blair was about to go to it, but Mr. Weasley seized her by the arm and dragged her to the left, where there was an opening leading to a flight of steps.

"Down here, down here," panted Mr. Weasley, taking two steps at a time. "The lift doesn't even come down this far... why they're doing it there..." They reached the bottom of the steps and ran along yet another corridor with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The doors they passed here were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.

"Courtroom... ten... I think... we're nearly... yes." Mr. Weasley stumbled to a halt outside a grimy dark door with an immense iron lock and slumped against the wall, clutching at a stitch in his chest. "Go on, you two," he panted, pointing his thumb at the door. "Get in there."

Blair frowned at him. "Aren't — aren't you coming with — ?"

"No, no, I'm not allowed. Good luck!"

Mr. Weasley left with a quick squeeze on Blair's shoulder, and Blair's heart was ramming against her chest. She looked at Harry and held his hand tight. They took in deep breaths, calming themselves down. They could do this. They were getting out of this fine.

"Come on, James."

"Let's go, Aika."

Blair swallowed hard, turned the heavy iron door handle, and stepped inside the courtroom. Then, she and Harry gasped. She wasn't expecting that their trial would be in the place where most Death Eaters were tried. Blair saw the shadowy figures, talking in low voices. As the heavy door swung closed behind Harry and Blair, an ominous silence fell.

A cold male voice rang across the courtroom. "You're late."

"Sorry," said Harry nervously.

"W-We didn't know the time had changed." Blair said, rubbing the back of her neck.

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

Blair looked to see two chairs in the center of the room, the arms of which were covered in chains. She felt Harry's grip on her tightened before they walked across the stone floor, their footsteps echoing loudly.

"Good luck, Harry." Blair whispered before she sat on the chair on the right. She didn't feel relieved when the chains didn't bind her. She looked up at the people and realized these were members of Wizengamot, all staring at them with austere looks.

In the very middle of the front row sat Cornelius Fudge. Blair's eyes hardened as she looked at him. He was the one who dismissed her parents' deaths and the one who made her and Harry to look like liars. A broad, square-jawed witch with very short gray hair sat on Fudge's left, and 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 Blair knew. There was Percy Weasley, sitting at the very end of the front bench. Blair looked away to hold back a growl, remembering the words he said to the Weasleys.

"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," said Fudge in a ringing voice, "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, and Blair Aika Wood, resident at the Woody Woods, Woodstock.

"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 Blair and Harry, who turned their heads so fast they cricked their necks.

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 Blair 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.

Blair felt a powerful emotion rise in her chest at the sight of Dumbledore, a hopeful feeling like what the phoenix song gave her that night in the graveyard, but she frowned when he wasn't looking at either her or Harry; 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."

"Yes — well — I suppose we'll need another chair — I — Weasley, could you — ?"

"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 Blair. 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 they did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of their actions, having received previous written warnings from the Ministry of Magic on similar charges, 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 Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?" Fudge said, glaring at Harry over the top of his parchment.

"Yes," Harry said.

Then, he turned his glare to Blair. "And you are Blair Aika Wood of the Woody Woods, Woodstock."

"Yep," Blair said.

"You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic two years ago, did you not, Ms. Wood?"

"Yes, but —"

"You too received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not, Mr. Potter?"

"But I—"

"And yet you two conjured Patronuses on the night of the second of August?" said Fudge.

"Yes, we did," said Harry, "but —"

"Knowing that you are not permitted to use magic outside school while you are under the age of seventeen?"

Blair's temper was starting to rise. "Yes, but —"

"Knowing that you were in an area full of Muggles?"

"We know, but —"

"Fully aware that you were in close proximity to a Muggle at the time?

"Yes," said Harry angrily, "but we only used it because we were —"

The witch with the monocle on Fudge's left cut across him in a booming voice. "You two produced fully fledged Patronuses?"

"Yes," said Blair, "because —"

"Corporeal Patronuses?"

"Cor — what?" said Harry.

"Your Patronuses had clearly defined forms? I mean to say, it was more than vapor or smoke?"

"Yes," said Blair, feeling both impatient and slightly desperate, "his is a stag, mine is a lion. They've always been a stag and a lion."

"Always?" boomed Madam Bones. "You two have produced Patronuses before now?"

"Yes," said Harry, "We've been doing it for over a year —"

"And you two are fifteen years old?"

"Well, she's fourteen, and —"

"You learned this at school?"

"Yes, Professor Lupin taught us in our third year, because of the —"

"Impressive," said Madam Bones, staring down at them, "true Patronuses 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 boy and 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 Blair into speech.

"We 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 was one dementor down the street and two dementors down the alleyway and they went for me, Harry and his cousin!"

"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 —"

"Don't you, Amelia?" said Fudge, still smirking. "Let me explain. They've 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, girl? Highly convenient, highly convenient... so it's just your word and no witnesses... And why were you there anyways, girl?"

"I was visiting my friend." Blair said, raising an eyebrow at Fudge, who looked flustered for a moment, probably hoping for something different.

"Well, I must say that you have no witnesses and no evidence... I'm afraid—"

"We're not lying!" said Harry loudly, over another outbreak of muttering from the court. "There was one who attacked Blair in the streets. We were about to go to her but then 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 and Blair —"

"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."

"Oh, very well, very well," snapped Fudge. "Where is this person?"

"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, Blair and Harry without glancing at them. A moment later, Percy returned, followed by Mrs. Figg. She looked scared and more batty than ever. Blair felt hope again. She would definitely turn this case in their favor. 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 Harry Potter lives," said Mrs. Figg.

"We have no record of any witch or wizard living in Little Whinging other than Harry Potter," said Madam Bones at once. "That situation has always been closely monitored, given... given past events."

"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?"

"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 Magnolia Crescent, but it soon disappeared because of a silver light and I felt warmth through me. Then, there was another 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."

"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 two boys."

"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 and the other one rather skinny and the girl is quite fit—" 

Blair beamed at the compliment before snickering at Harry. "Skinny bones."

"Oh, shut up, you fit git," muttered Harry with a smile.

"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." Blair frowned suddenly. Mrs. Figg was quite incomplete with her description. She could have gotten it from a picture in a book. 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. Blair could see red marks under her eyebrow where the monocle had dug into it. "What did the dementors do?" she asked, and Blair felt a rush of hope.

"They went for the boys," 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 Harry. On his first try, he produced silver vapor. Blair ran in with a lion following her, and the lion charged down the dementor. Then, Harry soon cast his, and the stag and the lion chased away the second from his 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?"

"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. Blair 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 wizard?" snorted Fudge. "The odds on that must be very, very long, even Bagman wouldn't have bet —"

"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."

"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 Blair saw her for the first time. She thought she looked just like a large, pale toad.

Blair whispered to Harry. "Doesn't she look like that young Muggle actor? Bill Ferret?" Harry clapped a hand over his mouth to prevent his laughter from escaping. She did have a resemblance to him.

"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 Blair 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 the boy and the girl!"

She gave a silvery laugh that made the hairs on the back of Blair's neck stand up. Blair rubbed the back of her neck immediately. 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 three dementors attacked Blair, Harry and his 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 three dementors were so very far from Azkaban and why they attacked without authorization."

"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 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 these boy and girl's imaginations, is not the subject of this hearing!" said Fudge. "We are here to examine Harry Potter and Blair Wood'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 Blair and Harry's use of the Patronus Charm in these circumstances falls precisely into the category of exceptional circumstances it describes?"

"If there were dementors, which I doubt —"

"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!"

"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 boy and girl have come out with, Dumbledore, while trying to cover up their flagrant misuse of magic out of school? I suppose you've forgotten the Shield Charm she used two years ago and the Hover Charm he used three years ago —"

"That wasn't me, it was a house-elf!" said Harry.

"YOU SEE?" roared Fudge, gesturing flamboyantly in Harry's direction. "A house-elf! In a Muggle house! I ask you —"

"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 — he blew up his aunt and the girl turned Ministry officials into dogs, for God's sake!" Fudge shouted, banging his fist on the judge's bench and upsetting a bottle of ink.

"That was an accident. They shouldn't have tried to take my broom." Blair mumbled under her breath.

"And you very kindly did not press charges on that occasion, accepting, I presume, that even the best 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 they get up to at school —"

"— but as the Ministry has no authority to punish Hogwarts students for misdemeanors at school, Blair and Harry's behaviors 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 they do 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."

"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 Blair and Harry for every bit of magic they have ever performed. They have been charged with a specific offense and they have presented their defense. All they 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. Blair glanced sideways at Dumbledore, seeking reassurance; he 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 Blair and Harry's attempts to catch his eye. He continued to look up at the benches where the entire Wizengamot had fallen into urgent, whispered conversations. Blair and Harry found each other's hands again and held tightly to each other.

Blair whispered to him. "What do you think, James? Should we have said something else?"

Harry looked at his feet and whispered back. "It's too late now, Aika. L-Let's hope we've done everything."

The two of them became silent, and the whispering filled the silence. Then the whispering stopped. Blair didn't look up at the jury and instead squeezed Harry's hand. He immediately squeezed back, still looking at his feet.

"Those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?" said Madam Bones's booming voice. Blair and Harry's heads jerked upward. There were hands in the air, many of them... more than half! Blair started the nervousness leave her body and smiled at Harry, who smiled back.

Madam Bones then 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."

"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 Blair and Harry, he swept from the dungeon.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────