Harry stood in the middle of Diagon Alley, a stack of pamphlets in hand, his eyes scanning the crowd of witches and wizards passing by. Beside him, his former schoolmate and now close friend, Luna, held up a sign that read, "Equal Rights for All Creatures!" in bright, glittering letters, charmed to be animated. She smiled dreamily at the passersby, her other hand holding a basket of pamphlets identical to Harry's.
"Would you like to learn about creature rights?" Harry called out, trying to catch the attention of a witch hurrying by, avoiding eye contact. She didn’t even glance at him, her pace quickening as if she couldn’t get away fast enough.
Harry sighed, frustration bubbling up inside him. "Is it too much to ask that they just take a pamphlet and look at it?"
Luna glanced at him with a look full of empathy, before handing a pamphlet to a small boy, who accepted it with wide eyes before his mother snatched it away and threw it in a nearby bin. "People don’t like to be reminded of the things they choose to ignore, Harry," she said softly, her voice as calm as ever.
Harry huffed, watching as more wizards and witches passed by, some even rolling their eyes in disdain. His frustration grew. "It’s like they don’t care that house-elves, centaurs, and other magical creatures—who, by the way, are their friends, neighbors, and colleagues—are suffering every day!" His voice rose in volume, but it only succeeded in drawing a few scandalized glances.
Luna nodded, still holding her sign high. "But we care, and that’s why we’re here."
A wizard in expensive robes sneered as he walked by. "Go back to school, boy. Leave politics to the grown-ups."
Harry’s grip tightened on the pamphlets in his hand. He had graduated from Hogwarts two years ago! "I’m not going anywhere," he muttered under his breath, though the wizard was already out of earshot.
"Maybe we should try something a bit more—" Luna began, but before she could finish, two Aurors appeared out of nowhere, their expressions stern.
"Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood," one of them said, his voice cold as ice. "You are both under arrest."
Harry’s heart sank, but there was also a strange thrill mixed with his growing annoyance. "You have to be joking! For handing out pamphlets?"
The other wizard smirked, pointing his wand at Harry’s hands, ready to conjure cuffs. He noticed Harry taking a step back, clearly considering bolting. "For causing a public disturbance and holding unauthorized protests in a designated commercial area. You’ll be taken to temporary detention at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement until a slot opens for the Wizengamot to pass judgment."
Luna simply smiled, as if being arrested was no more surprising than a sunny day. "It’s always an adventure with you, Harry."
Harry huffed in frustration but resigned himself, offering his hands to the smug Auror without another word.
Harry paced the small holding room, his nerves on edge as he waited for his turn. The distant murmur of voices seeped through the walls, punctuated by the sharp clatter of a gavel and the low rumble of a sentence being passed. Luna had been taken in first, and Harry could almost visualize her usual mysterious smile in place there, as if she were off to a tea party rather than a courtroom.
Harry, however, had no idea what to expect when it was his turn.
The door creaked open, and the same two Aurors who had arrested them earlier appeared. "Potter, it’s time," one of them said, gesturing for him to follow.
Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and stepped out of the room, his hands still cuffed in front of him. They led him down the corridor, the cold stone walls amplifying the echo of their footsteps. With each step, Harry’s anxiety only grew. He knew he wasn’t a criminal—he was a protestor, activist, fighting for what he believed in—but the weight of the situation really pressed down on him. He was an anxious person by nature, and the thought of stepping into that courtroom was anything but comforting.
The large, intimidating doors of courtroom ten loomed ahead. As they approached, the doors swung open with a creak, revealing the high, imposing walls lined with seats filled by witches and wizards. All eyes turned to him as he entered.
Harry's gaze swept across the room, taking in the familiar yet unsettling faces surrounding him. Lucius Malfoy sat among the Wizengamot members, his silver hair gleaming in the torchlight, an unmistakable mirror of Draco’s. A few seats away, Bellatrix Black-Lestrange—Sirius’s notorious cousin—caught his eye and gave him a sly wink. The gesture sent a shiver down Harry’s spine, and he wasn’t sure who hated her more—himself or Sirius.
He forced himself to look away, but his eyes landed on Augusta Longbottom, Neville’s grandmother. Though she had always been kind to him, sending Christmas cookies along with Neville’s, today her expression was stern, her gaze hard. Harry knew the reason well—both Harry’s and Neville’s parents were in Azkaban. As much as Augusta despised the current regime, she couldn’t risk leaving Neville alone by getting locked up too.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp shove that pushed him into the chair in the center of the room. More chains instantly wrapped around the arms and legs clanked as they tightened around him, holding him in place. Harry swallowed hard, his heart thudding in his chest.
Yet, he raised his chin proudly, refusing to show any fear as he looked directly at the man responsible for most of his problems. Tom Riddle, the Chief Warlock and Minister for Magic for the past twenty years, sat on the highest seat in the courtroom, his presence commanding the entire room.
Despite everything, Harry couldn’t deny that, in his humble opinion, Riddle had to be one of the most attractive wizards alive.
His dark onyx eyes were already locked onto Harry with an intensity that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
The room fell into an uneasy silence as Riddle began to speak, his voice smooth and cold, cutting through the silent courtroom like a knife.
"Disciplinary hearing of the twenty-eight of July," Riddle said, his voice filling the space, "into offenses committed under the Unauthorized Protest and Public Disturbance Act by Harry James Potter, resident at Potter Manor, Godric's Hollow. Interrogators: Tom Marvolo Riddle, Minister for Magic and Chief Warlock; Evan Gareth Rosier, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Regulus Arcturus Black, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley."
Percy, one of Ron’s oldest brothers, sitting at a small desk to the side, didn’t look up as his quill scratched rapidly across the parchment, recording every word.
Harry's stomach churned. He had expected something serious but hearing the formal charges against him in such an official setting made everything feel far more real. He straightened in his chair, refusing to show any sign of being intimidated.
Tom Riddle's gaze never left Harry's as he continued, "Mr. Potter, you stand accused of leading an unauthorized protest in a restricted area and inciting public unrest, among other things. How do you plead?"
Harry’s mouth was dry, and not just from nerves, but he refused to back down. He lifted his chin again and met Riddle’s gaze head-on. "Not guilty," he declared, his voice as steady and unwavering as he could manage.
The corners of Riddle’s mouth twitched, almost as if he were suppressing a smile. "Very well," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Let the trial begin."
The room fell into a tense silence. Riddle’s gaze remained fixed on Harry, sharp and unyielding, as if he were peeling back every layer to see what lay beneath. The rest of the Wizengamot members watched intently—some with curiosity, others with judgment clear in their eyes.
"Mr. Potter," Riddle began, his voice dangerously soft, "you’ve chosen a rather… unconventional method to advocate for creature rights, especially given your position. As the current Potter heir and representative, you hold a seat in this very Wizengamot. Surely you’re aware of the power and influence that seat affords you?"
Harry clenched his fists, the cold metal of the cuffs digging into his skin. He knew where this was going, and he wasn’t about to back down. "I’m fully aware, Chief Warlock," he replied, his voice firm.
"Then why spend your days protesting in the cold and unwelcoming weather when you’re clearly welcomed here?" Tom Riddle murmured, his tone maddeningly smooth. Harry had to stifle a laugh; surely no one in this room bought into the rhetoric Riddle was peddling.
"Let’s just say that sitting in a room full of people who talk in circles and avoid real issues isn’t exactly my cup of tea."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the room, and Harry could see Lucius Malfoy’s sneer deepen, while Augusta Longbottom raised an eyebrow, her stern expression softening just slightly.
Riddle’s expression, however, remained unreadable. "So, you believe that disrupting public order and causing unrest is the appropriate way to achieve your goals?" he asked, his tone almost mocking.
Harry’s eyes flashed with defiance, and his chin raised even higher. "When the system is broken and refuses to listen, sometimes you have to make noise to get anyone to pay attention."
Riddle leaned forward, his fingers steepled in front of him. "And you think this is a better use of your influence? A better legacy than using the power your parents’ imprisonment granted you?"
Harry felt a flash of anger at the mention of his parents. He knew their story all too well—how they had been imprisoned for opposing the very man sitting in front of him. The Wizengamot seat had been his since he came of age, but the idea of sitting among those who had likely supported his parents’ sentence had never appealed to him.
"I don’t care about legacies," Harry said, his voice rising slightly. "I care about making a difference. I care about those who have no voice, who are treated like the scum of the earth. The Wizengamot talks about these issues, but nothing ever changes. House-elves remain enslaved, centaurs are pushed to the fringes of society, and vampires and werewolves are similarly marginalized. Everyone just... accepts it. I can’t accept that. I won’t."
Bellatrix Lestrange chuckled softly from her seat, the sound sending a shiver down Harry’s spine. "Such fire," she purred, leaning forward, her dark eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. "But fire is so easily extinguished, little Potter."
Riddle silenced her with a look, his attention never wavering from Harry. "You believe you’re the only one who sees the injustices, the only one willing to do something about it?"
Harry shook his head. "No, I know there are others who care. But they’re too afraid to act. Someone has to take the first step, even if it means facing consequences."
Riddle was silent for a moment, his gaze piercing as if searching for something in Harry’s words. Then, he leaned back, his expression once again unreadable. "And you think that by standing here today, you’re setting an example? That others will follow in your footsteps? How do you suppose that will happen if the people in this room decide that a cell in Azkaban is a more fitting example?"
Harry swallowed hard, his heart pounding. "Then you would have proven my point," he said quietly but with determination. "And that’s a shame because I read one of your earliest publications back when I was in school—‘A Vision for Creature Equality’, right? You once advocated for creature rights. What happened?"
The room was silent again, the tension thick in the air. Harry noticed Regulus’s conflicted gaze, but the man was quickly scribbling something down.
Riddle's eyes narrowed slightly, though he remained silent. Harry could feel the weight of every gaze in the courtroom—judging, surprised, even shocked by his so-called "audacity." Despite it all, he didn’t flinch.
"Very well, I think we heard enough," Riddle chose to say instead, his voice formal. "The court will take a brief recess to deliberate. The defendant will remain in custody until this is complete."
With a sharp bang of his gavel, Riddle stood, and the rest of the Wizengamot followed suit, their robes swirling as they exited the courtroom. Harry remained in the chair, the chains still binding him, but his heart felt lighter. He had spoken his truth, and no matter what happened next, he knew he had done what he believed was right.
The heavy doors of courtroom ten creaked open again, and Harry watched as the members returned to their seats, their faces impassive as they awaited the Chief Warlock’s return and the resumption of the hearing.
A minute later, Tom Riddle entered and took his place, his gaze once again fixed intently on Harry. The room fell into a deathly silence, the tension almost suffocating as everyone waited for Riddle to speak.
"The Wizengamot has reached a decision," Riddle announced, his voice calm yet still managing to send a chill down Harry’s spine. "We have considered the arguments presented, and while your passion is commendable, Mr. Potter, your methods are... questionable."
Harry tensed, his eyes locked on Riddle’s. He had expected this, but hearing it still filled him with frustration and dread.
Riddle continued, "However, the Wizengamot is prepared to reconsider its stance, provided you take an Unbreakable Vow to pursue your advocacy for creature rights through more peaceful and lawful means."
A murmur rippled through the room at this announcement, and Harry felt his heart skip a beat. An Unbreakable Vow? It was a serious offer, but one that would bind him in ways he wasn’t sure he could accept.
He wanted change, but not at the cost of his ability to act when the system continued to fail those who needed help. An Unbreakable Vow now stood in direct opposition to all his beliefs; it would be a betrayal of his own values.
Harry frowned, considering his options. "And if I don’t?" he asked, his voice steady despite the unease creeping up his spine.
Riddle’s gaze didn’t waver. "If you refuse, you will face punishment proportional to the severity of your offenses," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It will be decided here, by the Wizengamot, under my direction."
Harry’s stomach twisted, yet he wasn’t ready to give in just yet. "Punishment?" he echoed, more to himself than anyone else. He glanced at the stern faces around him, and then back at Riddle. His mind raced.
The situation was absurd. Harry muttered under his breath, just loud enough to be heard, "If you’re going to punish me yourself, I might just choose that option."
The room fell instantly silent. Every eye turned to Harry, shock and disbelief clear on many faces. A few of the more severe Wizengamot members glared at him as if he had committed a grave offense by speaking so flippantly in such a serious setting.
Harry wanted to yell that he was joking and that the absurdity of the situation had led him to make that comment, but deep down, he knew that wouldn’t be entirely honest.
Riddle’s reaction was subtle but unmistakable. His brow arched ever so slightly, a flicker of something—amusement, annoyance, or perhaps curiosity—passing through his dark eyes. But behind that calm exterior, Harry could see it: a fire igniting, a spark of something truly dangerous.
The silence in the courtroom was thick, pressing down on Harry as he sat in the center, all eyes on him. Tom Riddle, with his dark eyes locked on Harry’s, was waiting for his decision. The tension was intense, the weight of the situation nearly overwhelming.
"Mr. Potter," Riddle’s voice cut through the silence, smooth and authoritative, "I ask you again: What is your choice? Will you take the Unbreakable Vow to pursue your advocacy within the bounds of the law, or do you still prefer the path of punishment?"
Harry’s heart pounded in his chest. The idea of an Unbreakable Vow terrified him. It would bind him irrevocably, forcing him to abandon everything he believed in. But the alternative—a punishment under Riddle’s direction—was equally daunting. Riddle’s eyes bore into him, and Harry knew that whatever punishment the Chief Warlock devised would be severe. He wouldn’t be surprised if Riddle decided to send him to join his parents in Azkaban.
His thoughts drifted to his parents, imprisoned in Azkaban for standing up to Riddle years ago. They had sacrificed everything for their beliefs, and Harry had spent his life trying to live up to that legacy.
The thought of disappointing them truly gnawed at him. They had already endured so much. Each month when he visited, he saw them fading more into shadows—Azkaban did that to its prisoners. The last thing he wanted was to add to their burden. If they heard that he had chosen to rebel against this man, risking his life and freedom out of stubbornness, it would break their hearts.
He could almost hear his mother’s voice, telling him to be careful, to be smart. And his father’s, pleading him to pick his battles wisely. They had always been so proud of his determination, but they would never forgive themselves if he ended up like them, locked away, another casualty of a broken system.
Taking a deep breath, Harry made his decision. "I’ll take the Vow," he murmured quietly, the words heavy on his tongue, as if not wanting to be vocalized.
A satisfied murmur ran through the room, and Riddle’s smirk deepened ever so slightly. "Very well," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "We shall proceed with the Unbreakable Vow then."
Riddle immediately motioned with a graceful flick of his hand, and Regulus, who had been sitting silently beside him, stood and approached the center of the courtroom. He nodded to Riddle before turning to Harry.
"Raise your hand, Mr. Potter," Regulus instructed, his voice soft but clear. It was strikingly similar to Sirius’s, and hearing him speak so formally felt foreign to Harry. Although Sirius and Regulus had drifted apart over the years, Sirius had raised Harry, while Regulus was his brother.
Harry lifted his hand, still bound by the cuffs, and Regulus gently tapped the chains with his wand, causing them to unlock and fall away. Harry flexed his wrists, feeling the weight of what was about to happen settle over him.
Riddle then extended his hand, long fingers poised above Harry’s, waiting for the connection. "Place your hand in mine," he commanded, his tone brooking no hesitation.
Harry complied, placing his hand in Riddle’s. The contact was brief but electrifying. Riddle’s hand was cool, steady, and commanding, while Harry’s was warm and sweaty, betraying his nervousness. He couldn’t ignore the smirk that played on the Chief Warlock’s lips—a small, knowing curve that sent a shiver down his spine.
Regulus stepped closer, his wand at the ready. He began to chant, his voice carrying the words that would seal the Vow. "Do you, Harry James Potter, swear to forsake all unlawful protests and disruptive actions in your pursuit of creature rights?"
Harry’s throat tightened, but he nodded. "I do."
A thin, fiery thread of magic wound around their joined hands, binding the first part of the vow.
"Do you swear to use only peaceful and legal means to make your voice heard and to respect the laws of the Ministry in your advocacy?"
"I do," Harry repeated.
Another thread of magic wound around their hands, brighter and more constricting than the first, making goosebumps prickle the back of Harry’s neck.
"And do you swear," Regulus continued, his gaze locked on Harry’s, "to accept the guidance and judgment of this Wizengamot in all matters related to your cause?"
Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second. But with Riddle’s eyes burning into his, he knew there was no turning back. "I do," he said, the words almost a whisper.
The final thread of magic wrapped around their hands, binding them tightly before sinking into their skin with a brief, searing heat. The Vow was complete.
Harry felt a strange sensation in his chest, a pull, like something was being taken from him—his freedom, his ability to act without fear of consequence. He had made his choice.
Riddle released Harry’s hand, his smirk still in place, though his eyes held something more—a flicker of triumph, perhaps, or the satisfaction of having bent Harry to his will so easily.
"The Unbreakable Vow is sealed," Regulus announced, stepping back. "Mr. Potter is now bound to his promises."
Harry’s hand fell to his side, still feeling strangely empty without the weight of the chains. The courtroom was silent again, the members of the Wizengamot watching him. But it was Riddle’s gaze that held him captive, the fire in those dark eyes burning hotter than before.
"Remember, Mr. Potter," Riddle said, his voice low and dangerously soft, "there are dangerous consequences to breaking a Vow. But I trust you’ll be wise enough to keep it."
Harry only managed to nod.
"Well then… If no one has anything else to add," Riddle said, glancing around the room with a serious expression, "you are cleared of all charges, Mr. Potter. Congratulations on your smart decision." His voice rang out, marking the end of the hearing. The silence lifted as the members of the Wizengamot began to stand and leave.
Riddle leaned closer to Harry. "I’m usually not so lenient with defiance against me, my Ministry, and my laws, but consider this an early birthday present," he said, his eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement. Without the small glint of amusement, Harry might have thought Riddle was trying to intimidate him again. "No thanks?" Riddle added, raising an eyebrow.
"Thank you, Sir," Harry said through gritted teeth.
"Hm, you need to mean it, Mr. Potter." Riddle smiled, a rare expression that made Harry uneasy. "Nonetheless, I will expect you in my office every 10th of the month for an evaluation, for an indefinite period or until I deem you no longer a risk of returning to your old ways. Should you revert to your previous behavior, your punishment will be far more severe than what I had planned for today. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Sir," Harry mumbled.
"Off with you then."
"What?!" Harry exclaimed, turning to face Luna with wide eyes. "Can you repeat that?"
They were in their small storage room, surrounded by pamphlets, posters, and other materials, which were now being burned by him, Luna, and the mastermind behind their cause—Hermione.
"They fined me 2,000 galleons and ordered six months of community service," Luna repeated. As Harry continued to stare in shock, Hermione stood up and looked at him with suspicion.
"Don't you have the same sentence?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms. "Sentences for these kinds of protests are typically the same, according to the law, of course."
"Uh…" Harry murmured. "Not exactly…"