Wherein Hermione bangs her head against a brick wall, meets with lawyers, arranges a Howler for Malfoy, testifies in court, and pulls off a scheme with Hagrid; and Harry learns and sees things that he rather would not and has a strong reaction; and Draco decides to double-cross Voldemort, and threatens to harm Harry.
Disclaimer: I neither own nor claim any other rights in the characters and other concepts created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money, nor do I seek any commercial advantage from this work. As such it constitutes "fair use" as defined in 17 U.S.C. §107.
Chapter 31 - Trials And Errors
Hermione's high hopes of a research breakthrough failed to survive the day. Intensive research into ancient Tibetan, Chinese, and even Indian magic fell into the same pattern - a variety of tantalizing remarks and references in a variety of sources, capped off by another blind alley, in the form of another lost book that from its title seemed to be spot on point. This time it was Dark Magic of the Himalayas, by Prester John. It, too, was listed as missing from the Restricted Section; the card in the card catalog bore the same notation, "LOSS."
Hermione complained to both Dumbledore and McGonagall (and also Madam Pince) about the apparently purloined publication, but they seemed maddeningly unconcerned. Professor McGonagall dismissed her gripes with the offhand remark that the card catalogue "hadn't been thoroughly updated in a century," and given the "obscure subjects" Hermione was researching, it was "hardly surprising that any number of unlikely volumes have gone missing since Hogwarts was founded."
Dumbledore more helpfully advised Hermione to seek an interlibrary loan through Madam Pince. However, he was anything but optimistic that such a loan could be arranged in less than two weeks, which assumed both that some other wizarding source had that book and would be willing to lend it.
Otherwise, her research was settling into a routine - still frantic, but dull and frustrating at the same time. She worked thirty-hour days. The morning began with a meeting amongst the all the friends and co-adventurers. Hermione would assign or modify the day's tasks over a communal breakfast. After that, everyone else's spheres would begin migrating to the library.
But not Hermione…. For her, it was off to swot in the Restricted Section. She read and took notes until the dinner hour. She allowed herself not even the distraction of a midday meal. Instead, Dobby prepared a bag-packed lunch for her to eat on site. Madam Pince might grumble about food in the library, but since the girl had the blessing of the Headmaster and his deputy, the librarian kept her thoughts to herself.
If it was an odd numbered day, sometime in mid-morning she would sense Harry regaining consciousness for a couple of hours. Harry must have been horribly depressed by his captivity, because these periods of wakefulness always ended with him in the throes of grief and despair. She could hardly blame him, as she was almost howling with frustration and apprehension herself - and her circumstances were infinitely better than his.
Sometime between six and seven in the evening, the researchers again ate together and discussed the day's developments. Hermione then took everyone's notes and transcribed them onto the Creeveys' communicator. This, too, was a frustrating process because once she printed her compilations, they would be gone from that system. The communicator had no memory.
Hermione would try until around midnight to make sense of whatever scraps of information everyone had found, and to see if she could discover any patterns. Then it was off to the Restricted Section again, where she would work through the night until after daybreak. Promptly at six a.m. she would return to her quarters and flop into bed, with her Time-Turner set back six hours to get some much needed sleep.
Perhaps inevitably, she was sleeping poorly, and not just because she continued putting her brain through its paces even whilst sleeping, with Harry's Aural Pensieve. No - far worse were her dreams. Hermione's dreams began differently, but always concluded at the same place - with Harry, his present plight, and her complicity driving him into the grasp of the Death Eaters. Her Imperturbable Charms avoided waking the others, and also concealed how much she was hurting.
All this was her planned schedule, anyway. In practice it was never so easy. There were always interruptions taking her away from the main task of trying to discover a way to find - and then to save - Harry.
On Sunday she lost half the day. From ten in the morning until four in the afternoon she had to meet with the Ministry barristers to prepare her testimony for the trial of Dolores Umbridge, scheduled for Monday morning. Without Harry, it would be a difficult trial. Hermione was going to testify under Veritaserum about what she knew of Harry's torture at the hands of this truly wicked witch. But Harry had suffered under Umbridge's vile blood quills, not her.
Three actual victims were also witnesses. Hermione had known for weeks that the just-graduated Lee Jordan was determined to testify about his experiences doing lines in Umbridge's detentions. Lee, it had turned out, was made of sterner stuff than she had thought. Beneath that glib exterior lurked a steely resolve.
Only on Sunday did Hermione learn that Samuel Ashburton would testify. He was a lanky Hufflepuff in the year behind whom she knew not at all. This boy had come to experience the joys of detention with Umbridge after bravely complaining in front of the entire Fifth-Year DADA class about the utter lack of practical course content.
The third blood quill veteran was a surprise:
"Luna…?" Hermione gasped.
"That's my name, right… But I think you knew that already," the grey-eyed Ravenclaw replied serenely as she glided into the room.
"But when did…? I didn't know…. Why didn't you tell us?" Hermione spluttered, trying to process the information.
"There was no need," Luna replied. "I know about Murtlap. I never let it bother me very much."
"What did you get detention for?" Hermione asked.
"The course was pointless. The lectures were worthless. There wasn't even any meaningful homework, so I started bringing my revising for Potions or Transfiguration to class. She didn't appreciate that and told me to stop. For several days I did, but then Professor Snape assigned us a particularly nasty essay on the uses of salamander egg yolk, and I really needed the extra time. I told her I'd stop working when she started to teach, and that was that… A week with the quill was my reward."
"Oh, my…," sympathised Hermione. "When did this happen?"
"Sometime in the middle of January." Luna remembered. "I was reasonably current with my assignments until then. It didn't hurt as much as she thought it would though…."
"How could that be?" Hermione asked with even greater interest.
"If I feel like it, I can detach myself from my physical surroundings rather effectively," Luna replied. Her fingers aimlessly twirled a stray lock of her rather stringy hair. "You've probably seen me in that state. I'm there, but then again, I'm not. It's a defense mechanism I've had for years. It saved my life.…"
"When?" asked Hermione. "In the Department of Mysteries?"
"Oh, no, I wasn't that badly hurt there," Luna corrected. "Not at all like you. It was when my father died…. I'm sure that if I hadn't separated my mind from my body I would have struggled and torn my carotid artery on the blade. I'm told it was a very close thing as it was.… Professor Umbridge's detentions helped me master it as a true skill, so in some roundabout way I'm indebted to her.…"
Hermione shuddered at Luna's her almost casual reference to her near-decapitation by Death Eaters. The girl's angry red scar was still plainly visible all the way from one side of her neck to the other, and she no longer bothered even trying to conceal it. The odd-duck Ravenclaw did not often talk about herself, so Hermione asked an open-ended question. "What do you mean?"
"I just sort of let go, and separated my consciousness from my body," Luna explained. "Her detentions were the first time I was ever able to do that on demand. Previously, is just sort of … happened. In some ways it resembles post-N.E.W.T astral projection, except my body can still perform reasonably normal movements. I could still write the lines - my mind just wasn't around for the pain. If I hadn't learnt to control it, it might not have been there for me when I really needed it…." Luna's voice trailed off.
"I'm surprised you came forward to testify if you feel indebted to her," Hermione commented.
"I feel a far greater debt to Harry, to you, and to the school generally," Luna responded. "Professor Umbridge might have helped me, but that was not her intent. You, Harry, many of the professors - Flitwick, McGonagall … even Snape… have tried to help. That creates a much greater sense of obligation."
"You … You think Snape tried to help?" Hermione asked archly. "After what he's done?"
"Who knows what he's done?" Luna replied enigmatically. "Many things could not be what they seem … like the Wrackspurt when it camouflages itself as a Blibbering Humdinger. With Harry's disappearance, it's likely that everyone is trying to deceive everyone else. I'm forced to suspend judgment. Everything is uncertain…. War is that way."
Her head spinning at Luna's unique brand of logic, Hermione was content to break off that conversation as the barristers arrived. Nevertheless, during the several hours of rehash that followed, Hermione learned nothing anywhere as interesting or thought provoking as the few minutes she spent with Luna.
Until the session ended, that is.
Hermione was having a pleasant chat with Lee Jordan about what it was like being a magical disc jockey when Professor McGonagall approached them. With a worried look on her face, she interrupted the two former housemates. "Miss Granger, a word, if you please?"
The professor's tone was serious. It was not really a question. Lee understood that as well and made his excuses. Together, Hermione and Professor McGonagall walked back towards the residence area.
"Miss Granger, about your father, do you know if he had any business he needed to attend to before he arrived in Sydney? Someplace else he might have stopped off along the way? Japan? Taiwan, perhaps?" Professor McGonagall made these inquiries with some concern slipping through her enforced calm.
"Er … no…." Hermione mumbled as she mentally catalogued what little she knew of her father's affairs. "I can't think of anything. Why do you ask?"
Knowing that Hermione was less than a week removed from a bout of post-traumatic stress disorder severe enough to strike her mute, Professor McGonagall weighed her response carefully.
"It's probably nothing," she said dismissively, "but as you may have suspected, the Order has been keeping your parents under surveillance … loose surveillance, mind you, but your father, he didn't make his … er … what do you call it … connexion in Singapore. Thus, we're not sure where he is right now."
"Oh, dear," Hermione gasped, "do you mean that…?"
"NO!" McGonagall exclaimed, a little more forcefully than she had intended. "We have absolutely no reason to suspect any sort of foul play. We were cooperating with the Singaporean Ministry, and there was no sign whatever of any magic - light or Dark - in the airport that day. There was no sign of any unusual magical activity anywhere in the country.… Granted, it's a small country."
"Then what do you think happened?" pressed Hermione.
"As I said," McGonagall continued, "we were not watching him that closely. We don't want to intrude, since your father's not very happy with us magicals right now…."
"Now there's an understatement," Hermione commented.
"…Anyway, he simply didn't go to the gate for the flight he was supposed to take. He probably just changed his plans. People do that all the time, and there was no expectation that he would inform us. He probably took a side trip, since your mother isn't expected for a couple of weeks, yet. It would be a good use of his time."
Hermione relaxed a bit. That would be like her father. So what if he wasted a plane ticket? He had more frequent flier miles than he could possibly use, and his professional and business contacts spanned the globe. Before she was born, he had invented what had once been the most widely used dental implant in the world. Until the last few years, he had travelled all about the globe training fellow dentists and oral surgeons how to use it. She had been on many exotic holidays whilst her father taught at one of these continuing dental/medical education courses - St. Moritz, Costa del Sol, Sun City, Las Vegas, Acapulco, Queenstown…. "You're undoubtedly correct," Hermione replied after she finished analysing things. "He probably got an invite from some old friend."
McGonagall nodded. "We have notified the Australian Ministry, however. They've put some disturbance charms on the house he has purchased in New South Wales. When he turns up, they'll know, and we'll get word."
"I do tend to worry about things, though," Hermione added. "Please keep me informed."
* * * *
Back in old South Wales, Draco Malfoy was nervous. The day before he had been forced to leave the Potterless Conspiracy in the hands of Ted Nott in order to stage his own high profile "return from Durmstrang" in order to testify at one hearing and observe at two others. He was not at all worried about Nott, though. Nott had proved his competence. Indeed, in some ways he was probably better at managing Potter's captivity than Malfoy himself.
The headstrong blonde boy spent an entire afternoon with the barristers representing Madam Umbridge. Over and over again they put him through the rigours of cross-examination - some of it so confrontational that Malfoy had been tempted to hex his questioners. By the time they were through with him, he was exhausted.
He did, however, have a story that was less full of obvious contradictions and glaring falsehoods than the testimony he had given at the preliminary hearing. The idea of trying to rattle Potter with "disinformation" about Dementors was now a scheme of much longer duration. After all, Madam Umbridge had known of the attack within days of its occurrence. She had been informed by no less a source than Minister Fudge himself.
So Malfoy had his testimony well squared away. He was not worried about that.
What worried him was the Dark Lord. There had been no response at all to the ransom note that the plotters had sent to Lord Voldemort concerning Potter. Far from it. What Malfoy read in the Prophet suggested that the Dark Lord's response was to send Death Eaters and Dementors on a nationwide search for Potter. He secretly thanked his ancestors for the panoply of wards that protected and concealed the catacombs beneath Malfoy Manor.
That was not how the Prophet had reported events, of course. Rather, the Dark Lord's activities had been hysterically described as a wave of "attacks" throughout the country, supposedly "capitalising" upon his "success" in capturing Potter. Malfoy, however, could read between the lines. He also was familiar with Death Eater tactics. If these had been real attacks, reported casualties on both sides would be much higher. When Aurors confronted the attackers, there were no pitched battles. The Death Eaters were taking no hostages and holding no territory. Typically, as was the case today's lead story - an attack on the Hogwarts Stopping Service - there would be some minimal spell work, followed by Stuka-style dive bombing from the Dementors. Then the Dark forces would withdraw.
Nor were these "attacks" on those associated with Dumbledore or other foes of the Dark Lord. Rather, the bulk of the "attacks" targeted witches and wizards with a history of shady activities of their own - illicit potions mixers, Imperius Curse prostitution rings, traffickers in Dark magical objects, illegal Portkey manufacturers, joint wizard-Muggle organised crime operations. These were not attacks; they were searches.
The Dark Lord did not know who had Potter, but was trying very hard to find out. His suspected that some other group bent on a nefarious scheme had taken Potter. The Dark Lord was spot on as to the intent, but wrong (so far) about its source. The number of incidents in the Prophet was extremely large. The Dark Lord was taxing his resources. Malfoy knew that he had under 150 committed Death Eaters, probably fewer, given the losses the Prophet had reported since the events at the Ministry. The main meeting room far beneath Malfoy Manor had been built as a place the Death Eaters could all meet. It could not hold more than 150 people.
Malfoy was worried because his strategy was not working, and he needed a backup plan. It was more and more likely that the Dark Lord had decided that the eleven captured Death Eaters - including his father - were of no further use. Their trial was set for Friday, and the defense barristers were pessimistic. An unintended consequence of Malfoy's spectacularly successful kidnapping had been to galvanise the entire wizard population - and Death Eaters were blamed. One focus of that wave of passion was likely to be the upcoming Death Eater trial. There had been calls for stringing the defendants up without bothering with that proceeding.
If Lucius Malfoy, Maxmillian Nott, or any other of the captured Death Eaters, were sentenced to the maximum penalty, as was likely, the only thing standing between them and a Dementor's kiss would be the new automatic right of appeal to the Minister of Magic. Only recently enacted at the insistence of Albus Dumbledore, the procedure was completely untried. Realistically, that would buy only a few additional days' time. There was no way in the current political climate that Fudge - with his own Death-Eater-related baggage - would commute any of these sentences, least of all that of Lucius Malfoy.
It was almost a certainty that, barring an unexpected complete about face by the Dark Lord (not bloody likely), Malfoy's father would receive the Dementor's kiss within a fortnight. Potter's abduction, intended to induce the Dark Lord to act to free the prisoners, had failed of its primary purpose - even though it had been conspicuously successful in every other way.
Malfoy needed a new plan.
Because of his own legal hearings and lawyer meetings, Malfoy would be away from the Manor's catacombs for large parts of the coming week. He was ostensibly supposed to return to Durmstrang after that - even though he had never really been there. Knowing what was coming, the three plotters had searched through the considerable Death Eater magical stores in the Manor's magazines. They were in luck.
There were scores of Untraceable Portkeys. There were Random Portkeys. There were Portkeys preset for every other major estate that the Malfoys owned. There were Portkeys to the Riddle House, Durmstrang, and Château Blackwalls - there was even a large crate of Portkeys that, when activated, would take anyone bearing a Dark Mark into the presence of the Dark Lord, no matter where he might be.
Malfoy used these Portkeys to get back and forth between the Manor and Oceanix, where he was supposedly staying. They were faster than Thestrals, more reliable than Apparition, and utterly untraceable. Since Malfoy was not a terribly skilled Apparator, he was always worried that he might do something to trip one or another of the maze of protective spells that guarded the Manor's catacombs against just about anything short of a full-scale magical assault.
Whatever he was going to do, he could not budge until everyone turned in for the night. His mother had invited one of her old Pure-bloods for Life friends over for a visit, so he was not going anywhere soon. As was usual, the fog rolled in from the Irish Sea after the sun went down. With so many Dementors about, the weather this past week had been even worse than usual. In the drizzly darkness, Malfoy bimbled about the grounds of the estate, deep in troubled thought, not headed for anywhere in particular.
It started to rain harder. Cursing himself for not bringing a mac with him, or even an outdoor cloak, he ducked into a large barn, adjacent to the Thestral corral. He performed a rather ineffective Drought Charm. He had always been better in the Dark Arts.
"Lumos."
He was in the working part of the estate. Large carcasses hung on hooks, already prepared for feeding the Thestrals. There were harnesses and other gear hanging on wooden pegs sunk into the poles that supported the loft and the roof. A variety of odd-looking agricultural implements - bale hooks, disassembled rotary tiller parts, scarifier shanks, moldboard shins, even an old-style sickle-board mower - filled most of the centre of the barn. The place reeked of manure.
On a low wooden bench, someone had left a nasty-looking tool, one of the few pieces of farm equipment Malfoy was familiar with. Unlike his mother, who incessantly took photographs of this "bucolic paradise," Malfoy was almost without exception bored out of his skull by agricultural pursuits. The one exception, such as it was, involved watching the field-elves geld young Thestrals. Malfoy had always been drawn to pain and mutilation. It had to be done to maintain order in the herd, and by tradition it occurred in late summer shortly after their first year. This year, he had just missed that annual event.
The object bore prominent markings "N. BURDIZZO LAMORRA (ITALIA)." Picking up the almost two-foot long device, feeling its heft in his hands, Malfoy saw got an idea - a wonderful awful idea. If nothing changed by the time of Father's trial, there would be no choice. He would have to parlay with the Ministry instead of the Dark Lord. Whatever the Dark Lord's purposes might be, Malfoy knew enough to deliver Potter in reasonably good condition. He would never be so presumptuous as to poach on the Dark Lord's terrain by causing serious injury to Potter - if he could help it.
Tapping up the Ministry was a totally different situation. To convince the government to trade eleven captured Death Eaters in their hands for one measly Potter in the bush, the Ministry had to believe that the kidnappers would do Potter grievous, permanent bodily harm, up to and including death if necessary. These bad boys would help get his point across without saying a word….
WITHOUT SAYING A WORD!!
Malfoy smiled an evil, knowing smile as everything mentally slipped into place. He would also need to document his threat…. His mother had several.… She would never miss one in her current condition.… Some rag had offered six figures…. Malfoy told himself that he could care less about the Galleons (actually, he could use them), but it would be just the publicity stunt that his plan required.
* * * *
`Thank Merlin that's over,' Hermione thought as she left the courtroom after the Umbridge trial. Now she could get back to back to the project she really cared about - rescuing Harry from what was now over a week's captivity. Hermione walked briskly towards the Atrium where she could catch the Floo back to Hogwarts.
Even with the benefit of much longer legs, Ron was pressed to keep up with the pace she set. Hermione was even passing some of the slower memos that glided over their heads - those responding to uninvited press inquiries, for example.
Luna, on the other hand, was just gliding along, smiling benignly.
"Oi, Hermione, slow down, will you!" Ron panted. "A few bloody minutes one way or another won't be the end of the world."
"Not yours, perhaps," she shot back over her shoulder. If anything, she picked up her pace.
Reaching her destination, she slid into the short queue. "Now, Ron, when we get back, I'd like to go over with you an approach I've been contemplating that involves some of the other old, supposedly fictional works in the library. Your Marco Polo find was extraordinarily helpful, so maybe you can duplicate it…." She paused as she reached the front of the queue.
"See you in a few, Hermione."
She stared at the redhead in disbelief. "What? …And just where do you think you're going?"
"To Diagon Alley to meet Cho," Ron replied forthrightly. "Someplace private. Can't live on bread alone, you know."
Luna's previously unworried countenance clouded a bit. "I suppose this is the `moral support' you came along to offer?"
"Not hardly," scoffed Ron. "I supported everyone's morals for several hours in there - and for what? She gets six bloody months in Azkaban? Now it's high time I got some support of my own.… It's got nothing whatever to do with morals, that's for sure."
With that, Ron turned and was gone. Hermione's glare could have etched glass. Luna just rolled her eyes. "This is not good," she muttered.
Back in her suite in Hogwarts, Hermione changed into the more comfortable robes she wore whilst researching and reflected on the day so far. Her testimony had gone relatively smoothly. Fewer hearsay objections had been sustained than the prosecutors had feared. Almost all the rubbish about her supposed ("I wish") illicit sex life with Harry had been excluded as irrelevant.
She sighed deeply. One of the silks had warned her that it would be far different - and worse - when she testified as a character witness at the Black hearing. The only silver lining on that looming black cloud was that, unlike this criminal trial, the Black inquiry was closed to the public.
Hermione wondered if it had been worth it; whether the minimal sentence justified the time she (and everyone) had lost. Lee, Sam, and Luna had all testified to their personal experiences with Umbridge's blood quills, and that hideous excuse for a professor had not even bothered to deny it. She claimed that her actions, even if "technically illegal," had been necessary because there was a widespread conspiracy to undermine her authority. Umbridge was not even wrong about that - there most certainly had been a conspiracy to undermine her authority.
Hermione had been up to her eyeballs in that conspiracy, which is why she wondered whether her testimony had helped or hurt the cause. The worst moment - although she was not ashamed in the least - came when Umbridge's barrister had asked Hermione if she had any part in founding the student group, Dumbledore's Army, about which the defendant had ranted. Being under Veritaserum, Hermione of course told the truth that she had not only helped found the D.A., but that the organisation had been her idea in the first place. She was immensely proud of that, but in the peculiar context of Umbridge's trial, these facts had probably not been useful to the prosecution.
Unfortunately, the part of her testimony that had been excluded as hearsay was everything and anything having to do with Harry being attacked by Dementors. At the end of the case, those charges had been dismissed for lack of hard evidence. As a result, the bloody toad Umbridge had gotten off with a relatively light sentence of a mere six months in Azkaban. She had even been allowed to keep her Ministry list eligibility, although she could never again hold a position in the Ministry that had anything to do with education.
Hermione also thought that dismissal of the charges concerning the Dementor attack had been a result of much improved testimony by Draco Malfoy. She could hardly stand even thinking about the slimy Slytherin, but he had offered a much better explanation of the supposed attempt to fluster Harry than previously.
Still, he was and remained the world's biggest sodding toff. He had smirked at her whilst in the witness chair, and had taunted her about "beloved Harry's" absence during a brief encountered before the hearing began. Ron had started to hex Malfoy right then and there, and had almost been expelled by the bailiff. For her part, Hermione had waited until after the hearing was over, when she had the "little incident" that had left her fuming - and that prompted her extremely fast walk to the Ministry Floos.
She had been in the hallway chatting with the prosecutors when Malfoy had passed, accompanied by his own lawyer. Malfoy had not known she was there, and she had overheard a snippet of their conversation:
"…So at the Black hearing, I want you on your best behavior. There's nothing for you to say. Let us take care of the witnesses; let us take care of everything…. That's what you're paying us to do…."
"Heh, heh…. That's going to be bloody brilliant with the Mudblood testifying… And dammit, I won't even have that tarty, blonde court reporter to distract me.… Won't be seeing her any more…."
She could count on one hand the number of people who knew that Eliza Brookings had died in the attack on Harry. Going spare at this remark, Hermione had pounced on Malfoy, grabbed him by the collar of his cloak, spun him around, and aimed her wand right between his eyes from a distance of maybe five centimetres.
"And what exactly do you know about that, ferret face?" she had snarled with a go-ahead-make-my-day look in her eyes.
"I-I-I… What do I know about what?" Malfoy had stuttered, his eyes betraying a look of genuine fear.
"What do you know about Eliza Brookings' death?" Hermione growled again, actually poking Malfoy in the forehead with her wand. She was moments away from doing something that might have put her into Azkaban for quite a long time.
Another voice spoke - Malfoy's barrister. "Miss Granger, I assure you that neither my client nor I know anything about any purported death. I had just finished informing my client of the very public information that Miss Brookings had tendered her resignation as a court reporter for the Ministry. Now if you don't sod off and leave my client alone, I shall be forced to seek your arrest."
Hermione had been embarrassed and deflated almost beyond words. The more she thought about the incident, the worse she felt. She had been stupid, but worse she had been indiscreet. She had loudly revealed confidential information in public, a sin compounded by her blurting it out to a damn Death Eater's son. Even though that insufferable twit Malfoy undoubtedly knew nothing at all about this, he would dutifully pass on this juicy morsel of information to his father's Death Eater pals. The Death Eaters would now know that she somehow had inside information about their kidnap of Harry Potter.
She shuddered a little at the thought of what the Death Eaters might do to her. She shuddered a great deal more at the thought of what the Death Eaters might do to Harry.
Oddly, the answer seemed to be "nothing." During the Tuesday between the Umbridge and Black hearings Hermione felt less of anything adverse happening to Harry than on any prior day. He was awake for a couple of hours in the morning, as usual. That degenerated, as it always did, into a torrent of grief and guilt. But if that was out of the ordinary for this ordeal, it was for being relatively passable….
Hermione kicked herself about feeling that way. How dare she become inured to Harry's torment? She was his only link to the outside world, and if she failed to maintain her absolute refusal to accept his captivity, how could she expect more of anyone else? Every moment that Harry was forcibly kept apart from her against both of their wills was intolerable. It should not become less so by virtue of repetition.
But how much was she really achieving, and how much was mere bumf and guff? Her many hours burning the midnight oil in the Restricted Section had produced exactly one marginal idea. She had come across a detailed description of a Legilimency technique for the amplification and retrieval of submerged memories, sort of like Muggles sometimes used hypnosis. By analogy, she thought it might be possible to strengthen her affinity to Harry in much the same way. But the analogy was both imperfect and remote. Ron's lead was better - so much so that she shelved her own idea without even discussing it with anyone.
Still more meetings and more lawyers again disrupted her research schedule. This time it was a team of private barristers from D'Israeli, Braddock, who represented Harry's interest in the Black inheritance. Because of her feelings about that money, Hermione had gone into this meeting fully prepared to detest this lot of silks. She had even plotted out beforehand a number of very rude remarks.
They were never used, as the experience turned out quite differently. These lawyers were as smooth and personable as anyone she had ever met. Being very white-shoe, they were no happier about the dodgy origins of the Black fortune than she. In spite of herself, she took a liking to them, especially Bartram Rumpole, who would be handling her questioning the next day. He had just the sort of dry, self-deprecating wit that put her at ease. First it won Hermione over to bemused tolerance, and then to active participation in her own preparation.
She was pleased to learn that, although the hearing was closed to the public, each witness was allowed one "second" - someone who could attend the hearing to offer moral support and comfort. Her choices were not exactly infinite. Luna was her best researcher. Neville did not need the distraction, as he would be the star witness at Friday's Death Eater trial and required extra preparation for that. Ron was going to be a witness, too. She assumed he was being prepared simultaneously in another of Hogwarts Castle's innumerable rooms. Ginny was the logical choice, particularly given the personal nature of a fair amount of the probably subject matter.
Before the session ended, Hermione had even shared the great secret of her planned testimony with Harry's barristers (although not with Ginny or anyone else). They were quite impressed with her originality. Because of the possibility that it might not work, they deliberately kept their distance - turning down her last-minute offer to meet with Hagrid. They did, however, give her some practical advice to pass along.
When that meeting broke up, she hurried to Hagrid's hut for a complete dry run of their Wednesday surprise. That took a couple more hours that she was wishing she could have back. Unfortunately there was no way around entering the Forbidden Forest, and that always took time. Whilst the centaurs had been pacified, neither Hagrid nor Hermione were on their short list of favorite representatives of the human race. The practice itself went swimmingly. Returning to the Castle afterwards, Hermione allowed herself just a glimmer hope of hope that she might be able to navigate her testimony unscathed.
That evening it was back to her oft-disrupted research - more swotting, note taking, more discussions with her friends, more transcribing. Not only was she starting to despair of ever having enough time to do everything that needed being done, but on top of everything else, she was feeling lurgy. She was having odd sensations…. Nothing serious…. Indeed, nothing even certain. It was as if something were tickling at the edge of her consciousness. It was as if Harry had their link open, but it was empty. There seemed to be simultaneously both something and nothing. But it was not even at a time that Harry's captors normally allowed him to be awake.
The sensation did not cause her any interruptions because nothing was really happening. Still, it was different. She found it troubling because she suspected it had to do with Harry. As long as he was missing, anything concerning him troubled her.
* * * *
He heard a buzzing sound that gradually grew louder until it resolved into a babble of voices…. Harry was regaining consciousness once again. As soon as he became awake enough to comprehend what was happening, he tried to blank his emotions out to evade the Dementors.
It was time merely to listen…. To try to glean some information that might, at some point, help him escape … if Voldemort did not come for him first.
There seemed to be only two of them. The leader, Tin Man, was away. Scarecrow did not seem happy with his work….
"…Dammit, I need to get away more," he complained. "You and the Boss get out and about at least every other day…. Why not me? I need a good shagging…."
"You know why not," Lion replied, seeming to be sympathetic. "It's not fair, but the Boss and I, we have to show ourselves regularly in public, to keep up appearances. Like it or not, there's nobody out there paying attention to you…. Hell, you're probably thought dead…."
"Dead or not, I still need what I need," Scarecrow continued complaining. "I'm going bonkers in here…. Spending all my time with nobody but that pillock Potter and his Dementor friends to keep me company…. What's taking the Dark Lord so long?"
"The Dark Lord keeps his own counsel. You know that," Lion reminded harshly. "He will act when he so chooses. All we can do is wait until he is ready."
Scarecrow sighed loudly. "I know…. I know. But all this waiting is so bloody boring. If I can't get out, can't you at least bring me back something - or someone…?"
"You know that would be most unwise," Lion chided. "But how about this? When this is over, I'll go out with you. We'll find some pretty witch, or maybe even a Muggle…. I know the Imperius Curse as well as the Boss. I'll use it, and you can have your way with her. How about that? Deal?"
Scarecrow was still hesitant. "Sounds good, but are you sure it would work?"
"It worked with Potter, didn't it?" Lion reassured. "Once we put that girl he was with under it, even he was going to get some, the great prat."
At that, the artificial calm Harry had maintained in his mind shattered. Eliza had been under the Imperius Curse! For how long? From the beginning? Had she ever really loved him? Was everything she said, and everything she did, the product of Dark magic rather than her own free will and desire? Had she just been some innocent pawn of the Death Eaters - to be cast aside as so much rubbish when, as their leader had said, her "usefulness was at an end"?
Harry felt himself grow cold. He was a pathetic loser. Why should anyone ever love him? Everyone who had ever loved him had died. Except one … and he had driven her away…. And that, for the sake of a woman who had been Imperioed.… Merlin knows that affinity that must have tortured Hermione unmercifully….
The Dementors were feasting. Harry's mind melted into obscene visions of Unforgivable Curses and Muggle weapons being discharged in places where they absolutely had no business being.
* * * *
Just before midnight, Professor McGonagall stopped by the overly laden scrubbed wood table inside the Restricted Section that had become Hermione's home away from home. "The Headmaster informed me that you needed this," she said with a conspiratorial smile. Dumbledore's deputy handed her an unsealed red envelope.
"Good luck tomorrow," the Deputy Headmistress added. Hermione smiled back weakly. She had sensed, almost from the moment she arrived at the Castle, that Professor McGonagall disapproved of what she and her friends were doing - although the reason for her favorite professor's disapproval was beyond her. Still, on this occasion, the older woman had bent the rules and provided a critical component of the plan to defeat Malfoy's claim to the Black inheritance.
As McGonagall's footfalls faded away, Hermione sighed. It had not been a good day. Harry had ended up in utter agony - off schedule and unexpectedly. She was knackered, but every time she felt Harry, she knew she could not stop working, not even for a little bit. He needed her very badly, and there was just too much to do. Even on the eve of such important testimony, her work was never done - today even less so because of all the time lost to meeting with the bloody barristers and to the rehearsal with Hagrid.
Hours later, she made her way through the Castle's deserted corridors back to the guest quarters, and flopped into bed. As usual she had worked through the night, first reviewing everything that her friends had found during the day, and then spending the quiet hours of the morning on her own research in the Restricted Section. She gave her Time-Turner six full twists, taking her back to midnight for what she hoped would at least be a semblance of a good night's sleep. She plugged in Harry's Aural Pensieve to conduct still more research whilst she was asleep. When she awoke, it would once again be six in the morning, and she would have to prepare for the running of yet another gauntlet.
The morning of the final hearing ever to occur in the multi-year saga of the Black inheritance/Malfoy will contest dawned cool, grey, and sullen. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny met professors Dumbledore and Flitwick and former professor Lupin by the main entrance. Hermione was very anxious to get this over with. Not only was she expecting some very unpleasant cross-examination, she still had extremely mixed emotions about the underlying purpose of the entire exercise. Had anyone told her before Harry's disappearance that she would actually be helping to bring about his inheritance of the Black blood money, she would have thought them daft.
Before they left, Ron approached her and took her hand.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"R-R-Rather nervous," she replied nervously. "But I'm ready." She gave Ron a knowing smile, and showed him just the slightest glimpse of her D.A. mirror, so that he knew she had it.
"I hope I am," Ron commented, doing the same. "This isn't my strong suit, you know. But whatever the King can do to help Harry, I'm willing to give it a go."
Hermione winced a bit. "We all are, Ron, and don't forget you've already done much better by both Harry and me than you ever thought you would - finding that first big clue and all that. Just don't call yourself by that awful, third-person nickname on the stand, you know."
"Don't worry, I won't…,"Ron answered. "Been practicing…. Don't worry, Hermione, it will all turn out fine. Harry couldn't hope for a better friend."
Hermione winced again. She did not believe she had been a very good friend to Harry at all. Ron, of course, was clueless, but everything she had done since Harry had disappeared had been devoted to making her amends. "Thanks, you can still be sweet when you want to, Ron."
She reached up and gave the redhead a kiss on the cheek. "Good luck."
Hermione was Apparating with the rest of the staff, except Lupin. Ron and Ginny could not Apparate, and thus needed a security escort. Because werewolves were shape shifters, Lupin found it very difficult to Apparate even under the best of conditions (although he could in an emergency), and with the full moon only three days away, conditions were hardly optimal. He stayed with the two Weasleys to use the Hogwarts Floo.
Hagrid had left for London by train the previous evening.
At the Ministry, Hermione sat on the marble bench that surrounded the Fountain of Magical Brethren. Whilst waiting for her companions, she took mental notes on the new security procedures that the Ministry guards were following. She used the down time to scan someone's abandoned copy of yesterday's Prophet. Otherwise, she had no time to read it anymore.
Peering every so often over the top of the paper, she watched as people passed through security. Everyone was being thoroughly wanded for contraband magical objects. It reminded Hermione of nothing so much as the Muggle security line at Heathrow when she was leaving for Hong Kong - at the time, she thought, maybe forever.
That seemed so long ago, now - like it had been in a different lifetime, and perhaps it had…. For the past few years, Hermione had divided her life into before and after going to Hogwarts. Not coincidentally, that division also corresponded perfectly with when she first met Harry. That line was fading now. The new great rent in her life was before and after Harry's disappearance. Today, as always, was the first day of the rest of her life. `Yeah, right,' she thought. It was not a life she had any great interest in living should that dividing line become permanent.
Hermione saw Hagrid appear from a side hallway. He was too large to use the visitor's telephone box, so he had been required to use the entrance from Muggle London on the Second Level. Security had escorted him to the Atrium.
"Ya ready?" the huge man asked.
"All set," Hermione said, patting a pocket in her dress robes.
"Same `ere," Hagrid, replied, caressing the side of his own much more bulky robes. They were nice enough, but not full dress, since Hagrid was not going to testify himself.
"Any sign yet?"
"No, but they're always on the late side," Hermione answered. "The barrister says they prefer the sweeping, last-minute entrance."
"Hoist `em on their own petard, then," Hagrid growled, giving her an appreciative look.
He waved, and Hermione saw Lupin and Flitwick approaching. Ginny was with them, but Ron was not. They, too, sat on the bench, making small talk. Hermione pulled out her D.A. mirror, crossed her legs demurely and pretended to primp. After a few minutes, it glowed green.
"They're on their way in," Hermione said to Hagrid in a low tone. "Get ready."
Within seconds, Hagrid hissed back, "See `em."
With that the five got up smartly and joined the security queue. Ginny stood a short distance to one side, feigning disinterest and keeping a covert watch for her brother. Only a couple of other wizards, who had randomly joined the line, separated Hermione's group from the Malfoy party - consisting of Draco Malfoy, who kept flashing glances suspiciously in all directions, his befuddled-looking mother, a couple of more distant relatives (judging by their silver-blonde hair), and four pinstripe-robed barristers.
Briefly Malfoy's eyes met Hermione's. She quailed under a glare full of the most elemental hatred she had ever received. Shuddering she looked away. "That rotter deserves this," she muttered.
Ginny overheard her, and nodded her agreement. The Malfoys' machinations had almost gotten her killed - intentionally - several years earlier. Anything to return the favour, she would do with gusto. Malfoy gave her a glare too. She glared right back, silently mouthing the words `Bat Bogey.'
The Hogwarts party were approaching the head of the queue. Another side door opened, and finally Ron appeared, somewhat out of breath and walking quickly. Feigning insouciance, he slipped into the queue next to Hermione. "I see you got my signal," he huffed. "Glad I made it in time. I didn't want to miss this."
He looked back at Malfoy, who returned the same murderous glare. "Twitchy little ferret, isn't he?" Ron commented. "And his mum looks mental…."
Hermione smiled crookedly. It was time. Lupin and Flitwick were conversing with the guards, informing them that this group was part of Dumbledore's Hogwarts contingent. Hagrid was starting to empty his pockets. Shielded from view on two sides by the half-giant's great girth and on the other two by Ron and Ginny, who had splayed their robes in mock preparation for emptying them, Hermione drew out Professor McGonagall's red envelope.
"Sealed with a kiss," she grinned, as she did a deliberately insufficient job of sealing it. She surreptitiously reached out from behind Ron's robes and let it fly.
The Howler streaked directly to Malfoy, who grabbed at it before realising what it was. The slightest contact caused the poorly sealed envelope to burst open. As if by tannoy, Professor McGonagall's magically amplified Scottish burr boomed throughout the Atrium.
"DRACO MALFOY!! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU COULD BE SO DISLOYAL - ESPECIALLY TO SLYTHERIN HOUSE IN ITS TIME OF NEED. YOU WERE ONE OF ITS BEST STUDENTS. HOW COULD YOU DEFECT TO DURMSTRANG AT THIS OF ALL TIMES? WE DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE SOME OF YOUR CLASSMATES ARE, AND TWO OF THEM ARE YOUR BEST FRIENDS…!!"
The guards were startled by the sudden outburst, and left their posts to see what the bother was. Grinning broadly, Hagrid took this opportunity to sidle through the unmanned security post and begin placidly replacing the contents of his pockets, as if his search had been completed and nothing was amiss.
BLAM!!
Even Hagrid jumped at the report. The flap grew even worse as people started yelling. Hagrid looked back, wondering if he was needed to protect his young charges. But with Hermione frantically waving him on, and Lupin and Flitwick rushing back, he continued onward to the courtroom….
Ron was in high spirits as the rest of the Hogwarts party entered the courtroom a bit later. "…and then ferret boy made everything ten times worse by blasting the Howler into bits - each of which became a separate Howler in its own right.… Bloody simultaneous readings"
"It was a bit like Dada poetry," Hermione agreed, as Ron gaped at her blankly. "Ron you shouldn't find that so amusing. His Cannonade Curse was quite powerful, and is borderline Dark magic."
"You are a know it all, aren't you?" Ron replied, "Where in the world did you learn about that one?"
"This summer, during my…. Oh, I'll tell you later."
"Silence in the Court!" the Wizengamot bailiff ordered. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione instantly quieted. They gave their names to the tipstaff, who promptly ordered the two witnesses from the room. At the request of the Malfoy party, all witnesses were to be sequestered. Ginny found a seat at the back, near Hagrid.
Hermione glanced at Hagrid as she exited. He caressed the side of his robes.
Knowing he was an obstruction to anyone behind him, Hagrid deliberately sat on the aisle as far back in the spectators' section as he dared. Whilst nominally attached to the Order's group that would be presenting the results of the interrogation of Sirius' wand, he was assisting rather than testifying. Technically he not a witness, and thus was not subject to sequestration. He was using the time to go over his probable part in Hermione's surprise for the hundredth time - when his robes started squirming.
"Oh, hi Hagrid. Didn't expect to see you here."
Ginny greeted the newcomer with a painfully faked smile. The squirming had distracted Hagrid. He looked around and saw Cho Chang, dressed rather severely in semi-formal robes.
"Oh, `lo Cho," said Hagrid, even more confounded as the squirming got worse. "Wha' brings you `ere? Rootin' fer `Arry, perhaps?"
"Not exactly," she said lightly. "Ron asked me to come to give him moral support. Only for the day, though," she added. "I have to get back to my summer job."
Then Cho sat down in the seat right in front of Hagrid.
The squirming got worse and worse. It even attracted Ginny's attention, and both Hagrid and Hermione had studiously kept her uninformed about what was planned. Hagrid gritted his substantial teeth. The whole scheme was about to collapse if he stayed where he was - but how to move without looking suspicious? In desperation Hagrid tapped his pink brolly against the side of his chair. It splintered with a loud "pop," and Hagrid jumped up as if to avoid its collapse.
"Blimey," he said. "Need ter fin' a stronger summat ter sit on." Hagrid hurried to a stone bench against the side wall opposite, looking somewhat askance at Cho. Ginny followed Hagrid after making her excuses to Ron's girlfriend. Cho looked confused.
The hearing took almost all day. In open court, Flitwick, Moody and several other wizards replicated the results of the Priori Incantatem interrogation of Sirius Black's wand. In mind-numbing detail that only a lawyer could love, they took the demonstration back fully fifty spells, most of which were routine domestic magic. The last spell recorded was particularly poignant, being several yellow and blue bouncing Antipodean Opaleye eggs that Sirius had conjured over baby Harry's crib two nights before Voldemort's attack on Godric's Hollow.
Ron went into the witness box after eating a hearty lunch and answered a series of questions about Harry's character, emphasizing his loyalty, bravery, and dedication to resisting the Dark forces. He was cross-examined mainly about his belief back in Fourth Year that Harry had put his own name somehow in the Goblet of Fire in violation of the rules. All told, he held up rather well. When he was finished, he took a seat next to Cho. Sequestration ended once a witness had testified.
Hermione came last. Without hesitation she took Veritaserum. Her direct examination recounted everything Harry had told her about his childhood: How he had grown up with horrid Muggles who abused him and locked him away in a cupboard under the stairs; how he had learnt he was a wizard (Hagrid almost started crying); how he had come to Hogwarts not knowing a thing about his famous background; how he had studied hard and become a good student, despite obstacles; how he had killed Slytherin's Basilisk and saved Hogwarts in his second year (with due mention of Lucius Malfoy's involvement, and as little as possible of Ginny's); how they had escaped Umbridge and gone to the Ministry of Magic (this questioning did not go past their arrival, for reasons of "state security"); and how they had trained together with the Aurors during summer to learn more about fighting the Dark forces.
It was remarkable and powerful testimony - its impact enhanced by the decision of Harry's barrister to delve into previously unknown topics. This was the first time than anyone beyond a select few learnt what had happened either in the Chamber of Secrets or in the Forbidden Forest with Umbridge.
Hermione held up quite well under cross-examination. One dicey subject - whether she had anything to do with Sirius's escape from Ministry custody at Hogwarts - never even came up. Everyone knew that she had been in the Hospital Wing after barely surviving an encounter with the Dementors. With suspicion falling so strongly on former Professor Snape after his recent exposure as a traitor, even Malfoy's thorough barristers never thought to delve into Hermione's role.
She garnered considerable sympathy when all of the calumny about her supposed sexual relationship with Harry was discussed. It devolved into a long set of "he said, she said" questions that Hermione stoically denied. Everyone in the courtroom was growing uncomfortable with the kinds of things that the Malfoy counsel was asking of a 16-year-old girl who happened to be the best friend of the missing and presumed dead Harry Potter.
Then the tide turned.
THE COURT (Chief Justice Tiberius Ogden, presiding): Mister Mensong, I think we've heard just about enough on this subject. I'm frankly embarrassed that Miss Granger has had been subjected to these kinds of questions, for nothing more than being the best friend of Mister Potter.
MR. MENSONG (Lead Malfoy barrister): I'm almost finished My Lord. I believe I have only one more line of questions.
THE COURT: Continue.
BY MR. MENSONG: Miss Granger, you returned from Hong Kong, on 5 July, 1996, did you not?
THE WITNESS: Late night of the fourth, actually.
Q. Quite. You visited Mister Potter at his home, Number Four Privet Drive, on the morning of the fifth, did you not?
A. Yes, I had been asked to by … some of Harry's friends.
Q. How much time did you spend with Mister Potter that day?
A. A long time. I arrived around nine that morning, and stayed until around dinner time.
Q. Did you perform any magic whilst you were with Mister Potter?
A. Yes, I had special dispensation from Dumbledore and the Ministry to perform underaged magic. I cast a number of charms to clean up his quarters, which were in a right state. I performed magic to get us lunch. There are probably other spells I used as well.
Q. You are aware, are you not, that the performance of underaged magic in Muggle neighbourhoods is closely monitored, even when it is allowed?
A. Yes.
Q. [looking at a sheet of parchment] Did you perform a Muggle-Repelling Charm at approximately 10:15 on 5 July in the smallest bedroom at Number Four Privet Drive?
A. Er…. Yes.
Q. The smallest bedroom at Number Four Privet Drive is in fact Mister Potter's bedroom, is it not?
A. Yes, it is - now.
Q. You did that so you would not be disturbed by Mister Potter's Muggle relatives, did you not?
A. Yes, but as I said before nothing happened of a sexual nature. Not then and not ever.
Q. Very well. Then I can assume that you did not perform any Contraceptive Charms whilst you were with Mister Potter that day?
A. No. Of course not.
Q. You knew that any Contraceptive Charm would have been recorded by the Ministry, didn't you?
MR. RUMPOLE (Barrister for Claimant Potter): Objection, My Lord. Lack of foundation, and calls for speculation. Further, we've been over and over the subject of the chastity of this young lady, so at this time I would also object on grounds of badgering the witness and already asked and answered.
THE COURT: Mister Mensong, I am very tempted to grant Mister Rumpole's second objection. Do you have any more factual basis for this inquiry than you had for your previous assertions of this nature concerning this witness?
MR. MENSONG: Yes, My Lord. At this time I would like to introduce Malfoy Exhibit Number 5,273.
[Whereupon a sidebar was held outside of the hearing of the Witness]
THE COURT: You may continue, Mister Mensong, but do be quick about it. The patience of this tribunal is wearing thin.
MR. RUMPOLE: I vehemently object to this. Introduction of collateral evidence bearing solely on the credibility of a witness is a waste of time….
THE COURT: Ordinarily, I would agree with you Mister Rumpole, but I will give Mister Mensong two minutes to establish where he is going with this.
MR. MENSONG: [holding sheet of paper] Thank you, My Lord. Miss Granger, On your way to spend the day with Mister Potter on 5 July, you paid a visit to the Little Whinging Apothecary at Number 527 Magnolia Road, didn't you?
THE WITNESS: Y-y-yes, I did.
Q. [reading from paper] Whilst you were at said apothecary, you purchased, and I quote, "one Trust Condom with Wet Personal Lubricant?"
A. If … If that's what it says, my answer is yes.
THE BAILIFF: Order in the Court. If there is another outburst the courtroom will be cleared.
Q. Do you still have this condom, Miss Granger?
A. No.
Q. In light of this document, do you wish to change any of your prior testimony, Miss Granger?
A. Not one word. I'm under Veritaserum and you're not.
Q. Very well. On 5 July, 1996, were you in love romantically with Mister Potter?
MR. RUMPOLE: Objection, My Lord.
THE COURT: Denied.
THE WITNESS: Yes.
MR. MENSONG: No further questions, My Lord.
The court declared a fifteen-minute recess. All of the Potter barristers beset the distraught witch practically before she stood down. They were all asking questions at once….
"STOP IT, ALL OF YOU!!" She screamed. They quieted instantly, and wordlessly they all adjourned to a nearby room where the Dumbledore/Potter team of lawyers could confer. Once in private, Hermione explained what had really happened.
"It … It … It was a minor detail.… I had half forgotten about it…. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It didn't seem important any longer, with Harry gone.… The apothecary did ask for identification. I had no idea he kept a register…."
Mr. Rumpole spoke gravely, "Miss Granger, I'm going to have to ask you to go back into the witness box for redirect. I need to know if anything actually…."
It was a nightmare. Hermione almost felt that she was reliving her row with her parents when Harry had come for dinner, only without the volume. "Not a bloody thing! Not that I didn't want it to…, but I messed it up, okay? It was my own fault. Nothing happened and nothing ever will, now. That's what Hagrid can prove. I burnt the bloody Johnny that evening."
Presently, the hearing recommenced.
THE COURT: If you have any more questions, Mister Rumpole, the witness is yours.
MR. RUMPOLE: Thank you, My Lord. Miss Granger, did you have sexual relations with Mister Potter at any time on 5 July, 1996?
THE WITNESS: No.
Q. What was your purpose in purchasing a condom before you saw Mister Potter?
A. If he had been so inclined, I would have consented. It became clear that he was not, so the question never arose. I destroyed the condom that evening.
Q. And you did what you did because you were romantically in love with Mister Potter, as you previously testified?
A. Always have been and always will be.
In the audience, Ron's jaw dropped. `The git doesn't know,' he realised. `How could he possibly have misunderstood so badly…?'
Hermione's testimony continued.
Q. Do you have any interest in Mister Potter's possible inheritance?
A. None whatsoever. I hate what the Blacks did to accumulate that money. My negative reaction to Harry's prospective wealth is a major reason why that the condom we discussed previously was never used. That damned money has ruined my life.
Q. I'm sorry, Miss Granger, what I meant was do you have any testamentary interest in Mister Potter's possible inheritance?
A. Merlin, I hope not.
Q. Did Mister Potter have a will?
A. I do not speak of Harry in the past tense. If he does, then he never told me about it, and that's the kind of thing he usually would share with me.
MR. RUMPOLE: At this time I'd like to introduce Potter Exhibit Number 37. Mister Hagrid would you approach the bar?
MR. MENSONG: Objection My Lord, this … witness is not on the list.
THE COURT: I don't know that he's a witness, Mister Mensong. Let me handle this. Who are you sir?
MR. HAGRID: Rubeus Hagrid, Milud. I'm Professor of Care of Magical Creatures at `Ogwarts.
THE COURT: Why are you here, Mister Hagrid?
MR. HAGRID: Well, `Ermione here, Miss Granger, I mean, asked me ter help `er prove `erself, about … er … well, yeh know … `er virtue. I brought what I guess is that Exhibit 37 the lawyer `ere was talkin' about.
THE COURT: And what is the nature of this exhibit, Mister Hagrid?
MR. HAGRID: [reaching into robes] Here.
[Whereupon Mister Hagrid produced Potter Exhibit 37 for the Court's inspection]
THE BAILIFF: Order in the Court. If there is another outburst the courtroom will be cleared.
MR. MENSONG: Objection My Lord. This is outrageous. This half-breed is not a witness, he's not on the list, he's never been qualified as an expert, the exhibit is not authenticated, nor is it listed on the exhibit list.
THE COURT: All of your objections are denied Mister Mensong. The Court takes judicial notice that Potter Exhibit 37 is a unicorn foal. Mister Hagrid has not requested to testify, but I believe by virtue of his position he would be a qualified expert concerning this exhibit, if the Court thought any authentication was required, which the Court does not. Need I also remind you, Mister Mensong, that rebuttal exhibits need not be listed?
Mister Rumpole, you may proceed.
MR. RUMPOLE: Thank you, My Lord. Let the record show that I am approaching the witness and handing Miss Granger Potter Exhibit 37.
[Whereupon the witness held Potter Exhibit 37 in her lap for the remainder of her testimony]
Q. Miss Granger, have you taken your O.W.L. in Care of Magical Creatures?
A. Yes, a few months ago. I scored an Outstanding in that course, 97 numeric.
Q. Did you study unicorn foals in Care of Magical Creatures?
A. Yes.
Q. What can you tell this tribunal about the attributes of unicorn foals?
MR. MENSONG: Objection My Lord. This witness is not qualified….
THE COURT: Denied.
THE WITNESS: Unicorns are powerful magical creatures. They evolved a white colouration as camouflage in the cold climates where they are native, but the foals, like this one, are pure gold. The Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts has a herd, from which this foal has been borrowed. Unicorns are the purest creatures in the world, and the foals, which are born around early June, are the purest of the pure. No unicorn, and especially no unicorn foal, would permit itself to be touched by a woman who is not a virgin. An adult unicorn would kill any non-virginal woman who attempted it. Given their strong magic, unicorns cannot be fooled by potions or spells. Therefore, in … in backward societies where such things are considered more important than in modern England … unicorns are commonly used to test virginity prior to marriage. There is no known case in which this test has yielded incorrect results.
Q. Are you familiar with the unicorn foal that is Potter Exhibit 37?
A. Yes. This is Minnie. She was born on 3, June. I've met Minnie on two occasions, previous, the most recent being yesterday. Minnie is a dear. She especially likes to be tickled behind her left ear, like this.
MR. RUMPOLE: I have no further questions, My Lord.
THE COURT: Re-cross?
Hermione stiffened when the Malfoy barrister stood, his white court wig askew. When he threw his quill down in defeat and decided to ask no further questions, she curled up in a ball around the unicorn foal and cooed at it, softly calling its name and itching behind its left ear. It was over - she had survived - what was more she had won.
When Hermione did not leave the witness stand, Chief Justice Ogden gestured to counsel to help the witness down. Instead, Hagrid stepped past the bar and gently folded both her and the unicorn foal in his massive arms and carried them to the back of the courtroom.
They were just about to leave when Chief Justice Ogden began speaking. Having been instructed not to enter or leave whilst the court was in session, Hagrid and Hermione stopped to watch what turned out to be a very satisfying finale.
THE COURT: There are no further witnesses for any side, therefore with great relief the Court declares these proceedings to be complete. The Wizengamot will begin its deliberations posthaste. Mister Draco Malfoy, will you approach the bench?
[Whereupon claimant Draco Malfoy approached the bench]
THE COURT: This Court has been presiding over hearings of this sort for almost fifty years. In all fifty years, this Court has never witnessed a more factually unsupported and, frankly, more vile attempt at the impeachment of a witness' character. The sole factual support for these charges against Miss Granger was your testimony, which you gave under your privilege as a Time Immemorial Pure-blood. The falsity of that testimony has now been conclusively proven. In the face of abuse, however, even the pure-blood privilege is not absolute. In light of the irrefutable evidence of your mendacity that I heard in this courtroom today, I hereby revoke your privilege for a period of five years. Court is adjourned.
The court's gavel sounded, and the Chief Justice departed the bench for an anteroom. His wig was also askew as he left. All hearings concerning the Black estate were now concluded.
* * * *
Harry heard a door slam and rapid-fire footsteps approaching. He had been awake, unbeknownst to the Death Eaters, for over an hour. By keeping still and practising Occlumency constantly, he was able to listen quietly to his captors without either them or the Dementors being at all the wiser. Not much had happened so far; nor had there been any tingling in his scar. The footsteps belonged to Tin Man. Unable to see anything whilst hooded, Harry had learnt to recognise his three captors by the sound of their walks.
Tin Man's reappearance was fairly interesting - by the standards of what currently passed for Harry's interest. Tin Man had been gone for quite some time. Harry had relieved himself three times (the only way he had of measuring the passage of time) since Tin Man had last been present. Tin Man had left Lion in charge. Harry briefly wondered if it was all over; if Tin Man had finally returned with Voldemort.
Tin Man had not. What he had returned with was a towering rage.
"Goddamn Mudblood bitch!" his tinny false voice screamed. "Conspiring with a blundering half-breed to try to take…."
"Shut it, and calm down," Lion yelled back. "You might wake him up."
Harry heard the sound of a heavy travelling cape dropping to the floor, presumably from Tin Man's shoulders. He heard the click of a Death Eater mask being fastened into place. Intently, Harry concentrated on his Occlumency. Tin Man was really angry for some reason. In his rage, he might just give something away…. Something Harry might be able to use….
"I'll show you waking up!"
SMACK!!
The right side of Harry's face exploded in intense pain, as he was hit by something hard, not a fist, but a club of some sort. His head snapped back awkwardly from the totally unexpected blow. He tried desperately to maintain consciousness. He also felt coldness; Tin Man's rage was attracting the Dementors.
Tin Man was probably right in front of him, but Harry could not see anything through the heavy hood covering his face. Tin Man was imitating something in what seemed like an artificial and crude falsetto. "…always have and always will…."
SMACK!!
The other side of Harry's face erupted with similar pain. If anything it was worse. This blow had caught the end of that metal bit his captors had jammed into his mouth ever since he had first been pinioned to the bars. The bit tore into the side of Harry's cheek and he could feel warm blood trickling down the side of his jaw. He hoped the blow had not broken it.
"Boss, stop it, the Dementors are getting excited!" Lion called out.
"What the Hell…?" Scarecrow chimed in.
Tin Man's grotesquely mocking falsetto sounded once again "…in backward societies where such things are considered important…."
SMACK!!
Harry reeled again. Tin Man had swung mightily for the top of Harry's head, but the obscuring hood had produced only a glancing blow - a blow that caught the pointed top of his hood and ripped it completely off.
The sudden exposure to light was blinding to someone who has spent over a week almost constantly in pitch-blackness. For the first time, Harry caught a real glimpse of the room where he was being held - but not much of one. Tin Man was standing right in front of him, wearing full Death Eater regalia and holding a Beater's bat in his hand.
Blood now ran down the middle of Harry's face. From his Auror training he knew that even superficial scalp wounds bled profusely. He was feeling cold and nauseous … the Dementors were closing in; soon he would once again be lost to his own private Hell - a cauldron of grief and guilt over all the people who had died for him … and one more who might.…
"Dammit, boss, we'll take care of it…."
So Lion was the shortest of the three.
"… Don't damage the bloody merchandise - that's what you always say.…"
Scarecrow was definitely the largest of the three.
"There'll come a time when we might bloody well have to!" Tin Man was still out of control.
Tin Man dropped the Beater's bat. "Crucio!"
Harry's body started to burn from the inside out, as waves of intense pain - thousands of piercing, white hot knives - began engulfing him. He writhed against his restraints.
From somewhere deep inside, his indomitable Gryffindor spirit reared its head. He would not let these bastards beat him - not now.
Harry cupped his hands and thought `Suturc.' It worked. Whilst his body writhed in agony, his mind quickly cleared as the Unspeakables' experimental charm took effect. It worked even better than he had any right to expect. The experimental charm had not been fully tested. Harry was the first wizard to learn that it also provided protection against mental attacks by Dementors.…
Whilst Tin Man thought he was turning Harry's mind and body to mush, in fact Harry was enjoying a relatively pleasant interlude - and was using it to examine his surroundings. Without his glasses, many details were indistinct, but he saw dungeon-like stone walls … magical torches in sconces … a door leading to what he supposed was the hallway through with Tin Man had entered … the hall had to be long and straight, given how long he had heard Tin Man's footsteps…. His captors were obviously bored to tears; a dog-eared copy of some wizard porno magazine was lying on the floor near his feet.…
By attempting to distract his boss, Lion was trying to end Tin Man's petulant display. "… I got you a little something when you were away.…" He gestured towards a low table that sported a rather odd design where the struts supporting its legs came together.
Harry looked too. On top of that table he caught a glimpse a sawn-off shotgun. From the unassigned Auror lesson in Muggle firearms he had once reviewed in his Aural Pensieve, Harry instantly recognised it for what it was.
"Eeeyahhhh!!" Harry's blood-curdling scream cut through both the physical pain from Tin Man's blows and the mental fog caused by the magical and Muggle depressants that his captors added to his food. There was a flash of blinding white light, several thuds and loud crashing noises.
"Stupefy!" Harry lapsed into unconsciousness once again.
* * * *
Author's notes: Prester John is a mythological powerful Christian ruler in medieval times located on the other side of Islam from Europe
Hermione drives the Creeveys to make the DA central station better
The situation with Hermione's father will become clearer in the very near future
Hermione's parents would never have been able to afford their mansion on income from dentistry. Her father invented a medical device, and received significant royalties for quite a long time
Continuing medical education classes are frequently in exotic locales. Knowing Hermione, she was not happy in Sun City. I personally like Q'town the best
A Stuka is a WWII German plane known for dive bombing and not much else
Automatic appeals are common in American capital punishment cases
So how could Malfoy have been at Durmstrang without ever being there?
All the agricultural implements are real
There are house-elves and field-elves, just like there were house and field slaves in the American South
The burdizzo quote is verbatim from an item offered for sale on Ebay
Wonderful awful idea is from the Grinch
How will Malfoy "document" his threat? Clues abound
Hermione suspects Draco, accurately, but for an entirely wrong reason
A silk is a top-notch barrister
Rumpole is a lawyer on a well-known British television series
Harry needing Hermione "badly" is a JKR quotation
Malfoy did to the Howler what Mickey Mouse did to the broom in Fantasia
Dada was a form of avant-garde art shortly after WWI, it sometimes involved simultaneous poetry readings
A tipstaff is a minor court official
This is a major wizard proceeding, the equivalent presiding officer in a British high court would be called a chief justice. All of the court proceedings are accurately described
Mensong is French for mendacious
Hermione's testimony is presented in the form of an actual trial transcript
I reference an actual British brand of condom
My Lord is how barristers address judges
Hermione is asked the Bill Clinton "sexual relations" question
Rebuttal exhibits need not be listed on trial lists
Unicorns do have this magical ability
Mentioned earlier, the Time Immemorial Pure-blood privilege against being put under oath is enjoyed by pure-bloods who can trace their lineage to the time of King Henry II (at least 1189)
The odd small table becomes important
The shotgun image will recur, as will the power Harry can wield
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C:\Documents and Settings\Owner\My Documents\HP & The Fifth Element.ch31 trials and errors.doc 10/25/04
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