The Hearing
Reginald Dennison’s expulsion hearing was scheduled for Monday, May 31st, 2010. It was held in the conference room of the Administrative building on the first floor, across from the Great Hall. Both parents were in attendance. The mother, Renata Dennison, looked aggrieved, while the father, Roger, looked merely bored. He kept checking his watch.
Reginald sat between them, though his chair was slightly closer to his mother than his father. The boy looked, to McGonagall’s eyes, more than a little worried. His mother had always gotten him out of trouble before, but this time, he may have pushed things too far.
McGonagall sat on the opposite side of the table from the Dennisons. Next to her was Professor Gregor. He had an enormous book in front of him: eighteen-inch square wooden planks, intricately carved and painted. In between the carved wood covers were sheets upon sheets of parchment, a thousand or more, full of densely packed writing, some typed, most by hand: The Encyclopedia of Dark Magic.
At the head of the table was the President of the Board of Trustees of the School. A portly man with a pointed beard, he was a Wizgamot Judge. Five years earlier, he had judged the case between Liam Wren and Cyrus Kane over the ownership of the Dragon Wand. McGonagall was not sure if this helped her case or hurt it. Renata Dennison was Rudolfo Kane’s sister. The judge had ruled against the Kanes in that first case. Did he feel pressure to rule in their favour this time?
Gregor started off the proceedings by questioning Reginald, who repeated what he had told Gregor at the initial interrogation. “I was defending myself against attacks by the Gryffindors. I don’t know who started the riot, but it wasn’t me. I was aiming at one of my rivals when this girl popped in front of me. I didn’t mean to hit her. She was not my target.”
On this point, Gregor pressured him. “I have multiple witnesses who say that you pointed your wand right at the victim and struck her down. None of your Third-Year rivals were anywhere near you at that moment.”
“I wasn’t aiming at her!” cried Dennison.
Next, Madam Pomfrey entered the room and testified. “Whatever it was that struck the victim, it was completely dealt with by the prefects,” she told the judge. “I gave the victim a full look over. She was in good spirits the whole time. I kept her overnight as a precaution. In the morning, she was bright and talkative, so I sent her on her way.
“It was the prefects’ report that gave me pause. They talked about a malevolent aura pushing back, trying to daunt them. It sounded like a Dark Magic curse to me. As I said, if it was a curse, they exorcised it completely from the victim.”
Renata spoke, her voice irritated and aggrieved: “It must not have been much of a spell, if a couple of prefects handled it.”
“Lara is my best student,” countered Madam Pomfrey. “One of the most instinctive healers I have ever taught. She was quite shaken by this incident. Yes, they solved it quickly, but it was a close thing. I’m afraid it was a bit of luck that they hit on the right solution so quickly.”
The judge clapped his hands together. “Let’s hear from these prefects, shall we? We’ll start with the girl and then the boy.”
Lara and Liam were both waiting outside the conference room. Madam Pomfrey called for Lara, who came in and sat down at the head of the table, opposite the judge. She scooted her chair away from the Dennisons, towards McGonagall.
Renata glared malevolently at Lara, white teeth showing between her parted red lips. McGonagall nodded. Yes, Renata, this is The Blond Hufflepuff, the girl who prophesied that your son would die young.
Lara in turn gave Reginald a stern and solemn stare. He would not meet her gaze.
McGonagall spoke first. “Lara, this is an informal hearing, rather than a trial. However, there are certain protocols we are observing. Please address the judge here as Your Honour. We are referring to your patient as ‘the victim.’ Do your best not to say her name. This is to preserve her confidentiality, as she is a minor.”
“I understand, Professor.”
The Judge spoke, his tone gentle and conversational. “Thank you for coming and speaking with us today. You’re a Fifth Year Prefect, are you not?”
“Yes, your honour.”
“How did you do on your O.W.L.s?”
“I did okay, I guess. I haven’t received my scores yet.”
“Madam Pomfrey spoke highly of you.”
Lara blushed. “Healing Arts is my favourite subject.”
“Take us back to the day of the incident. Did you see the interaction between Reggie here and the victim?”
“I did not. I saw her collapse to the ground, and I saw Reginald start to run away. I went straight to the victim and checked on her.”
“What was her condition at that moment?”
“She was shaking and shivering. Her eyes were closed. I tried a calming spell, but it had no effect. My basic warming spell had no effect either. I was quite frightened at that point. This was something serious, outside of our basic training.”
“I’m sure it was disconcerting to see your basic first aid spells fall short of the need. What did you do next?”
“Well, in Healing Arts, we have a rule, The Maxim of Opposites. It’s a mouthful to say, but it’s really quite simple. If someone is feverish, you need to cool them down. If they’re cold, we need to warm them up. My, um, fellow prefect has some custom spells, and one of them is a heat spell. I’ve experienced it myself, and it’s quite potent. With his help, we were able to get her temperature up.”
McGonagall prompted Lara. “Where was the curse centered?”
“On her thighs, and, um ….” Her voice trailed off.
“Please, Lara,” said McGonagall gently, “we need this for the record.”
Lara flushed deeply. She gazed down at the table and continued in a soft voice. “It was on her genitals. All over them. It was so cold it burned my fingertips.”
Once she was past that admission, her voice gained strength, and she was able to look the judge in the eye. “There was something else, too. My partner felt it also. The curse, it was pushing back against us, trying to get us to stop. We heard a voice, both of us did, telling us to leave it alone, to let it have … her.”
“Interesting,” said the judge. “Clearly, this was not an ordinary spell.” McGonagall took it as a bad sign that he called it a spell rather than a curse, as Lara and Gregor had.
Liam Wren was shown in. Immediately, the judge stood and extended his hand. “Good afternoon, young sir. Do you remember me?”
“Yes sir, I do.” They shook hands, and Liam took his seat.
“Prefect, now. Well done.”
“Thank you, sir.”
McGonagall went through the instructions again, then the judge began to question Liam. “Are you a Healing Arts student, too?”
“No, your honour, I was just following orders the whole time.”
“What are your electives?”
“Arithmancy and Runes, your honour.”
“Very good! Tell us about those orders you were following.”
Liam described his battle with the curse. “Lara was the one guiding me, pulling me around by the wrist. I wouldn’t have touched a girl there, you know, not without an invitation. Not when she was in that kind of state. But I did what I had to do. And then I heard the voice, telling me to beat it. All that did was wind me up. Wound my wand up too. She was itching for a fight at that point.”
“Your Stilgrevsen?” asked the judge, eagerly. “You used your Stilgrevsen on the girl?”
“Yes, your honour.” Liam described using the wand to amplify his heat spell. The judge questioned him extensively on his methods for controlling the volatile and temperamental wand.
“Did you come up with that on your own, or were you coached by someone?”
“Oh no, sir. I don’t know if there’s anybody who could teach me how to use a wand like this. I just had to figure it out as I went along.”
The judge leaned back in his chair. Turning to the Dennisons, he said, “I happen to know, from our previous encounter, that this young man is Muggleborn. This is what Muggleborns bring to Wizarding Society: new magic, and new ways of solving magical problems. It’s truly remarkable.”
The judge questioned Liam on a few other points before dismissing him. For a moment, the room was silent. Roger Dennison checked his watch. Finally, Renata spoke. “I just don’t see how we can blame Reggie for what happened. He was under attack from the Gryffindors, and he used a spell to defend himself. He doesn’t know what it was. It just came to him. It probably doesn’t even have a name.”
Gregor interrupted her, his voice low and heavy with suppressed anger. “It has a name. The victim was struck with The Frigidity Curse.”
Renata gasped. “Professor! I hardly expect to hear such language from you!”
Gregor’s nostril’s flared as he pulled in a deep breath. “It is a distasteful term, Madam, I concur. But that is the name of the curse.” Gregor opened the massive book to a page about a quarter of the way in. He put on a pair of reading glasses and swept the page with his finger until he found the correct entry. “Intense cold applied to the thighs and genital regions of female victims. If not treated promptly with magical heat, loss of sensation in the area becomes permanent.” Gazing at Renata, he recited the last line from memory. “In some cases, the victim succumbs to hypothermia and dies.”
Renata flushed and lashed out once again. “And where would Reggie have learned a spell like that? What have you been teaching him?”
“He did not learn that curse from one of us,” answered Gregor, his anger barely contained. “The curse can be found in a book called Wicked Vengeance, a registered copy of which is in the Dennison Family library!”
Renata turned her head and gave her husband a furious, withering glare. Roger did not meet his wife’s gaze, but at the mention of the name Wicked Vengeance, he gave a nervous laugh. “Professor,” he said, “books like Wicked Vengeance are part of our Slytherin heritage, our tradition of innovative magic. I’m only trying to preserve that legacy. As for my collection, I have a Ministry-approved, Auror-implemented security system in place. There is no way Reginald got his hands on that book, even for a minute, much less for the time it would have taken him to learn one of those spells. That book contains advanced Dark Magic. There is no way he could have mastered it at his age. And in any case, the book is not missing! It is on my shelf. It has been on my shelf every day this term. He doesn’t have it, and he never did!”
After a tense moment of silence, the judge spoke. “The Professor has offered an interesting hypothesis, but one for which he has no evidence. The prefects did their job too well. According to the medical reports, there was not a trace of the spell left in the victim’s body. It was a cold curse, for certain. Based on the testimony of the prefects, I would agree that it was Dark Magic. Was it the Frigidity Curse? We cannot say.
“The question before us is this: what is the proper response to this incident? The Headmistress has proposed expulsion. I find that too severe, given the facts as we know them. For reference, I turned to school records and found an interesting tidbit: the Famous Harry Potter once used a Dark Magic spell against a classmate. The circumstances were similar – it was a rash moment of anger – and so was the defence – he claimed he did not know what the spell would do before he cast it.
“Potter’s punishment was detention, and that I feel is the appropriate step in this case. Detention, and loss of privileges through the end of the term. The request for expulsion is hereby denied.”
McGonagall stood and glowered over the Dennisons. “I believe my Deputy is correct. Reginald has this book. Possession of a Dark Magic artifact on school property is grounds for expulsion. Reginald, I give you until five o’clock this afternoon to hand this book over to me. If I catch you with it later, I shall expel you. And if you harm another female student again, by force or by spell, not only will I push for your expulsion, but I will see to it that you are prosecuted to the full extent of the law!”
Renata gave a shocked gasp. Reginald flushed but was silent. With a turn towards the judge, McGonagall said, “Good day, your honour.” She swept from the room, leaving Professor Gregor to show the judge out.
A few minutes later, the Dennisons stood on the steps outside the castle. Renata wrapped her arms around Reginald. “Try to stay out of trouble. You’ll be home soon, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”
Reginald gazed into his mother’s eyes. “Yes, mum. There’s only a few days left now, and I’ll be home.”
Between father and son there was no hug, not even a handshake. Roger said, “Don’t let the Gryffs draw you into doing something stupid!”
“I won’t!”
Reginald went back into the castle. Roger and Renata strode across the grounds to the apparation point. “God!” said Renata. “When he said Wicked Vengeance, I could have died. That’s that creepy book with all the disgusting pictures! Reggie’s gotten to it before.”
“I swear, Renata, he doesn’t have it now.”
“Why do you even have those books?”
“The books in my collection came from your family’s library!”
“We were getting rid of them! Nobody wants that kind of stuff anymore.”
“Those books are extremely rare and valuable. Wicked Vengeance alone is worth a small fortune.”
“Then you should have sold it!”
“I’m not selling that book!”
They reached the apparation spot. In a flash, they were in their home in Godric’s Hollow. The two quickly went their separate ways. Roger headed for his home office.
The hearing could not have been on a worse day for him. It was the end of the month. Reports were flowing in all day from Roger’s various business operations: payroll, inventory, accounts receivable and payable. He scrutinized each report, searching for evidence of waste and fraud. If I don’t have my eye on the ball, every minute of every day, someone will rob me blind.
It would be nice if I had an assistant I could trust, who could share the load. Renata, for instance, or Reggie. But they don’t care where the money comes from so long as they can spend it.
As he mused, another invoice fluttered magically into his inbox. It settled on top of the dozen that had appeared while Roger was at the hearing. He needed to get started, yet, he turned away from his desk and gazed at his bookcase.
The glass was perfectly clean and clear – not a streak, scratch or a fingerprint to be seen. Though he could not see it, he felt the magic around the cabinet, the arithmantic lock and the other measures that guarded the books. There on the shelf, stuck between two larger volumes was the plain leather book with the tiny crack in its spine, the only blemish in what was otherwise a mint condition copy of Wicked Vengeance.
He felt a flutter of fear, and the sudden urge to open the cabinet and look at the book, just to be sure Reggie had not taken it. Behind him, another invoice fluttered into his in-box. He turned away from the bookcase, sat down at this desk, and got to work.
End of Part One