Cruel summer
August 12
Harry runs his hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact with his reflection. Somehow, the electric currents from his hand made his usual bird's nest hair flat for probably the first time in his life.
He plays with his fringe a bit, pulling it up and away from his face so it curves back to the crown of his head in a little pouf. For so long, he had always pulled his hair in front of his face, trying to hide the red scar that streaked from his temple across most of his forehead, one branch even neatly dissecting his eyebrow and edging down towards his left eye.
But after weeks of making lightning jump from his hands, he no longer wanted to hide the distinctively shaped scar. It felt like he had reclaimed it somehow.
It was no longer a remnant of the attack that had killed his parents and irrevocably changed his life. Instead, it symbolized the strange magic he had discovered within himself while stuck in Muggle Hell.
The lightning was the only way he had kept himself sane over the long six weeks he had spent at the Dursleys. Six weeks of no contact with any other magical beings, other than the Dementors that attacked him and batty old Mrs. Figg, who was apparently a squib.
During his many hours locked away in his room, he had occupied himself testing the boundaries of his strange new ability. The longer he had endured the Dursleys, the longer he had gone without any contact from his friends - his true family - he could feel something inside him dying. As if he was losing all his strength. As he practiced with the lightning, it seemed like that was recharging and livening him up. Almost like the magic he was creating could give him strength instead of draining his magical core like most magics. As the summer dragged on, at times, it seemed like the lightning was the only thing that kept him going.
But that was all over after today. Finally, finally, someone would pick Harry up and take him to the Ministry to attend his hearing for underage magic. Even though he had to deal with this bullshit hearing for the magic he had only performed while defending himself, he couldn't even work up any real outrage. At least in the Ministry, he'd be back with his own people. He'd be able to feel the ambient magic in the air, something pointedly missing from Privet Drive to the point that Harry felt starved of magic most days, and not just starved of food.
With only a few weeks left until the Hogwarts term started, he assumed he'd be brought to stay with the Weasleys after the hearing. Or maybe Sirius. He'd be happy with either.
Still pissed as hell at them for their silence - at everyone really - Ron and Hermione, the rest of the Weasleys, hell, his lingering resentment towards Lupin for never reaching out after his third year had sparked up again this summer. Harry was looking forward to shouting quite a lot over the next couple of weeks and making everyone grovel, even if some of that had to happen via letters. Maybe he'd send a howler or two.
But he was mostly just relieved he'd return to where he belonged. This was the longest he had stayed at the Dursleys since starting at Hogwarts. Usually, he could get out of here around his birthday, but July 31st had come and gone. Without the usual flurry of owls with cards and presents, too. Harry had been hoping he'd get some of Mrs. Weasley's food packages to help tide him over.
This thought brings him back to why he carefully avoided looking at his own face. Lowering his gaze from his hair to finally meet his eyes, Harry winces as the weight loss he's experienced this summer becomes clear. His cheekbones are more prominent, the hollows beneath them shadowed. His skin is pale from the hours indoors, and it looks dull, lifeless. The purple bruising under his eyes from sleep interrupted with nightmares, stands out all the more against his ashen skin tone. The only supports of brightness on his face are his eyes, which are just as verdant as ever.
It's not as bad as it was when he was younger - when he was with the Dursleys year round, instead of now, with only six weeks of going hungry. But there is a noticeable difference in how he looks now compared to the end of the term.
Harry sighs. There's nothing he can do about it now, and if he knows Mrs. Weasley, she's sure to have a feast prepared for dinner, and she'll insist on him having thirds.
Running his hand down his shirt, he reminds himself he'll need to pace himself when he's finally faced with as much food as he can eat again. He doesn't want to make himself sick.
Deciding he's as ready as he's likely to get - he can't do anything about the way that Dudley's clothes are too big for him or the way both the pants and shirt are faded in color - Harry returns to his bedroom and picks up the letter that had been delivered last night.
Harry,
Someone will be by tomorrow morning to take you to your hearing at the Ministry. Be ready to go by seven.
R. Lupin
The owl that had dropped it off at his window hadn't waited for a reply, but Harry wasn't sure what he would have sent anyway. He hadn't appreciated the abruptness of Lupin's message, especially considering this was the first bit of mail he'd received since the "You're expelled" letter, which had been quickly followed by the "Be a good boy and stay where you are" letters, and the "You're not expelled, but you're going to have a hearing" letter. After weeks of silence, a two-sentence letter had the lightning crackling in Harry's hand, and it took quick motions to keep the sheet of parchment from catching on fire.
Anything he had sent Lupin in response probably would have been quite rude. Better to save that conversation for in-person. Harry could get his frustration out and then move past it quickly.
Glancing at his alarm clock, Harry saw it was only ten minutes to seven. He had told the Dursleys last night that he was being picked up this morning, and they had reluctantly unlocked the cupboard under the stairs to allow him to pack his things to leave. Tucking his pajamas into the top of his trunk, he closed and locked it, tapping the rune he'd had Hermione carve into the bottom that let it shrink to the size of a shoebox without needing a wand.
Picking up his now much smaller trunk, Harry exited his room and went downstairs. At his footsteps, Petunia peeked down the hallway from the kitchen and glared at him. He'd heard Vernon leave for work not long ago, and Dudley wouldn't be up for ages. As Petunia was more likely to ignore him unless it was to give him orders or reprimand him, Harry was glad this morning would likely be confrontation-free. Knowing a freak was coming to pick him up would probably mean she stayed hidden in the kitchen until he was gone.
Watching the clock over the mantle slowly tick away, he was startled when there was a loud CRACK like a car backfiring at exactly 6:58. Peering out the window next to the door, Harry frowned in confusion. The person making their way up the walk was definitely a witch, but she wasn't anyone Harry recognized.
He cracked the door open just barely when she reached the steps without giving her a chance to knock.
"Wotcher, Harry!" The witch said with a grin. She did not fit on Privet Drive, and Harry was glad Petunia wasn't out here to see her house had been visited by someone with pink hair and robes that were clearly nothing a muggle would ever wear.
"Er. Hi. Who're you?" He asked, keeping the door mostly shut. His wand was in his pocket, but casting more magic on his way to a hearing about underage magic seemed like it'd be in poor taste.
"I'm Tonks! I'm an Auror, and I'll take you to the Ministry today. Oh, um. I'm not taking you because I'm an Auror. You're not in custody or anything." She hurries to tell him, probably reading the growing panic he was sure was evident on his face. "Dumbledore asked me to take you!"
"…Right. So he sent someone I've never met before to take me?" Harry asked incredulously. He couldn't imagine Dumbledore would be that unthinking. Slowly, Harry slid the hand not holding the door to his back pocket and gripped his wand tightly.
"Yep!" Tonks chirped. "Oh, and um…Snuffles said you might not believe me, so he said to tell you, 'I solemnly swear I'm up to no good.' He said that would help you trust me."
Harry releases his wand and loosens his grip on the door, letting it open a few more inches. Only eight people alive knew that passphrase. Himself, Sirius and Remus, the twins, Ron and Hermione, and Pettigrew. But Pettigrew didn't know they were using "Snuffles" as a code word for Sirius. Tonks had to have been sent by one of the others - someone Harry trusted.
Harry opens the door the rest of the way, "No offense…but why did you come? Why not someone I've met before?"
"I work at the Ministry, so it was easiest for me to come!" She says with a shrug.
Harry frowns again. Mr. Weasley works at the Ministry, too, he thinks. And for that matter, so does Dumbledore. He's Chief Mugwump or Supreme Warlock, or whatever. Shrugging slightly to himself, Harry decides not to question it anymore. He thinks Voldemort himself could show up and offer a chance to get away from Privet Drive, and he'd jump at the opportunity.
Leaning down to pick up his shrunken trunk from where he placed it, he pauses at Tonks' question, "What's that for? You won't need it for the hearing."
"Err, no, it's for after. It's my stuff. To take wherever I'm staying after this. At the Burrow maybe, er, you know, the Weasleys?"
Her head tilts, and shockingly, her hair seems to fade in brightness. "I don't think you're going anywhere different after the hearing, Harry. I was told to escort you there and then return you to your relatives' house."
His stomach drops out from beneath him, and it feels like someone has reached into his chest and begun squeezing his heart.
"W-what? No, I thought I was leaving after this. I've never had to stay this long here before. I always get to leave and spend the last half of the summer somewhere else."
Her brows contract, and she shrugs slightly, "I can double-check while you're in your hearing. But I was told pretty explicitly to bring you straight back here afterward." She looks down at his trunk again, "Here, let me banish that back to your room. If you're right, I'll come back and get it for you, but there's no need to bring it all the way to the Ministry."
With a quick wave of her wand, the trunk in his hand vanishes, and he lurches slightly, off balance from the loss of weight and the devastating revelation she shared.
"Now, we've got to head out so you aren't late! We heard a rumor that they would try to make an example out of you and want to ensure you're there on time."
Without waiting for a response, she gently takes his elbow to pull him forward. As she closes the door behind him, Harry tries to calm himself down with deep breaths.
She must have just misunderstood. There's no way Dumbledore would make him come back here. Or at least, there's no way his friends, Mrs. Weasley, and Sirius would let him stay here all summer. It's only a few more weeks until Hogwarts starts back up; what would be the point of returning him here?
Tonks is guiding him away from the house, and as they reach the edge of the lawn, she says, "Since I've got Auror credentials, we're going to Apparate in using the D.M.L.E. entry point."
"'Apparate,' what's -" Harry is cut off when Tonks turns sharply, and Harry jerks along behind her. There's a yanking sensation and intense pressure from all sides - like he's being forced through a small straw, and then he's stumbling on a hard marble floor, the only thing keeping him upright being Tonks's firm hand on his arm.
Harry stands momentarily, bent over his knees, hoping his loose shirt will hide the slight tendrils of lightning curling around his hands. He did not like whatever that was. Didn't like Tonks yanking him around, either.
Looking around, Harry is surprised to find they've left Privet Drive behind them. They're now standing in an entryway of sorts, facing out into a large room that looks like it's divided into the Wizarding version of cubicles. Small structures that remind Harry of tents fill the room with neat walkways between them. One nearby has the doorway held open with ties, and he can see an ample office space inside - a much larger space than the outside of the tent takes up. He can see two men in deep red robes talking but can't hear a word they're saying despite them only appearing to be about 2 meters away.
"This is the Auror Corps, Harry. Every full auror gets their own canvas to work out of. However, you share with your mentor when you're an auror trainee. They make it easy to work out in the field; just pack up your tent, and all your paperwork and gear comes along with it!" Tonks tells him cheerfully.
Tonks starts walking further into the rows of tents, and as Harry follows her, he spots a few gaps that would fit a tent. Those must belong to aurors working in the field. Overhead, a few paper airplanes zip around, going in and out of tents as he watches. Considering there must be a hundred tents (minus a few missing), it's surprisingly quiet in the cavernous space. He hears a few passing voices from a distance, people who must be walking outside of the silenced tents like him and Tonks.
"It's this way to the offices for the higher-ups. You'll be meeting with Amelia Bones, Harry. She's Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Harry's startled to hear that his hearing is with someone so high up in the Ministry. "Er - is that normal? For her to do underage magic hearings?"
Tonks doesn't reply for a second too long, and there's a false note in her voice when she says, "Can't say I've known too many that have had to have a hearing for something like this, so I'm not sure exactly what the procedure is."
Harry flinches slightly at what could be a subtle rebuke - hearings for underage magic surely can't be that rare. Tonks makes it sound like it never happens.
Harry's not reassured when she continues, "I'm sure meeting with her is completely normal, though! Nothing to worry about, Haz."
Harry decides not to ask any more questions and just follows along quietly. Finally, they reach a large oak door with a golden plaque next to it that reads "A. Bones."
Tonks has her hand halfway up to knock when the door opens, and a woman takes a half step forward before seeing them and pausing.
"Auror Tonks." The woman, who looks somewhere between Aunt Petunia and Professor McGonagall in age, flicks her gaze to Harry, which flits all over his face and then stops on his scar. She blinks twice, brows raising in surprise before she blanks her expression. "And Mr. Potter, if I'm not mistaken. What can I do for the two of you? I would have thought Mr. Potter would have already been on his way to Courtroom Ten."
"Courtroom Ten? We thought his hearing was in your office, Madame Bones. And we got here early; I was just going to check Harry in with you and then show him around the Ministry until you were ready for him."
The older woman frowns at Tonks, saying, "I received word last night that the hearing was scheduled as a full Wizengamot trial and was to start promptly at eight o'clock."
Harry glances at his watch; it's a few minutes past 7:15. It was a good thing Tonks had picked him up two hours early. They probably would have been late if she had picked him up any later.
"But why is it a Wizengamot trial, Madame Bones?" Tonks asked, "It's his first offense, and in his statement, he says there were extenuating circumstances. He acted in self-defense, which is permissible under both the Statue for Secrecy and the Decree for Underage Magic."
Statement? Harry thinks, I never gave a statement. Other than what I told Mrs. Figg.
"The guidance came from the Minister's office, Auror Tonks." Madame Bones's lips were pursed. Harry didn't think she liked the Minister. Or maybe just didn't like someone changing her plans. She seemed the stern sort.
"Regardless," she continues, "Mr. Potter is here in time for the trial. I'll escort him down to Courtroom Ten, Auror Tonks."
Tonks glances at him worriedly, then back to Madame Bones, "Oh. Er, I think I'm - er, alright then. I guess I'll pick him up afterward and take him home."
Please don't bring me back there.
"Nonsense. I can arrange for him to come home after the trial just as easily, and if I remember correctly, your shift begins at nine-thirty. We might not be finished by then. You're dismissed, Auror Tonks."
With another glance back at Harry, Tonks nods to her boss and turns sharply on her heel to walk away. Harry watches her for a moment before looking back to the older woman, a bit nervous about why she seemed insistent on being alone with him.
Madame Bones is already watching him, and their eyes meet briefly before Harry looks away, unsure how to act around this unfamiliar adult.
"I believe you were to be notified of the change in plans for your hearing. But it appears that the owl wasn't received in time." She glances at her watch before offering, "We have a few minutes to spare. Do you have any questions?"
"Er, I guess. I don't really know anything about the process." He says with a shrug. "I just thought I'd be asked a few questions."
She pauses, considers, and then turns around and reopens her office door. "Why don't you come in, Mr. Potter. We can speak in a bit more privacy."
He follows her in and looks around the tidy office. It seems smaller than the space inside the tents he had looked into on the way here, but he spots a door in the corner behind the large desk, so there might be a lot more to the office he can't see.
She guides him to a small couch and gestures for him to sit before settling into a chair facing the sofa.
"Mr. Potter, while the originally planned hearing to be completed solely with me would have been a much more informal affair, a full Wizengamot trial will be more complicated. In your notification, either for the original hearing or the notice about the trial, you would have been offered the use of a public defender if you could not acquire a solicitor on your own. Did you hire one?"
"I - I didn't get any notice that mentioned that. I need a lawyer?"
Her lips purse again, and Madame Bones looks angry. She walks to her desk, reaching for a parchment and quill. Scribbling a quick note, she rolls it up quickly before walking to the fireplace behind her as she says, "I hope you'll trust my judgment Mr. Potter. But yes, you'll need a lawyer today. I'm sending a note to my personal lawyer asking her to come through."
She throws a pinch of floo powder in the fireplace and mutters an address before flinging the rolled-up scroll through the green flames.
Returning to the chair near him, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a galleon. "Here. You'll need to give this to her before she can represent you."
"Thank you…Madame Bones, why - why are you helping me?"
She sighs. "I believe in justice, Mr. Potter. And I don't like it when people use the justice system to carry out their own vendettas and agendas. I read the various statements provided that recount the night you used magic. It's clear to me that you were acting in self-defense, and there was no breach in the Statue of Secrecy, as the only person you performed magic in front of was your cousin."
"What's more, it's deeply concerning to me that there were Dementors in Little Whinging. I have several theories about why and how they tracked you down, and not a single one of them indicates good things."
She was staring out the window - what must be a false window since Harry was sure he'd heard the Ministry was in London, and the view out the window showed a peaceful lake surrounded by tall willow trees.
"Beyond the many injustices in your story, as for why I'm helping you…well." Her eyes drop to the small table between their chairs, and she looks unsure for the first time since starting the conversation. Fiddling with a stationary sneakoscope on the side table, she continues, "I'm sure you've heard this before, but you look a great deal like your father." Harry jolts in surprise. "The Potter genes have always been strong. You look like your father, who looked like his father. I never met your great-grandfather, but I'd bet you also look like him."
"You - you knew my father and grandfather?" he asked. No one had ever mentioned his grandfather to him before.
Madame Bones nods and opens her mouth to say more when her fireplace flares green again, and a woman steps out smoothly. The woman is dressed in sleek black robes, although their fit reminds Harry more of a long-sleeved muggle dress than anything. Her appearance - the robes, the dragon skin shoes, the understated jewelry, hair pulled back into a smooth bun- speaks of subtle wealth. Nothing like the way Malfoy and the other purebloods Harry has seen prance around dripping in luxury, but he can tell this woman has money.
The woman dusts some unnoticeable ash off her shoulder while scanning the room. When she sees the two of them in the sitting area, she nods courteously to him, her gaze lingering just a second too long to be casual before giving Madame Bones a more genuine smile. It softens her previously austere face into something much friendlier.
"Good morning, Amelia. I must say, it's been a while since I received an urgent summons to the Ministry. Your note was short on details; what do you have for me today?"
Madame Bones stands and goes to shake the woman's hand.
Smiling, she responds, "Evie, sorry for the short notice, but I'm hoping you can do me a favor. And most of it will likely be pro bono if you're willing, or we can work something out later. This is Mr. Potter," she gestures towards where Harry has stood from the couch, "He's been accused of underage magic and risking the Statue of Secrecy by performing defensive magic in front of his cousin, whom he lives with. This is his first chargeable offense. Mr. Potter will receive a full Wizengamot trial this morning." As she spoke, the woman's - Evie - frown grew more and more pronounced.
"I'm hoping you'd be willing to represent him." Madame Bones glances at her watch and winces. "I'm afraid you don't have much time. We're set to start the trial in about forty minutes."
Madame Bones turns back to Harry, "Mr. Potter, I'll leave you to discuss your situation privately with Ms. Raynotte. She's been my solicitor for several years now, her father serving my family before her. I'll be waiting just outside the door and escort you to the courtroom." She looks back to Ms. Raynotte, "We'll need to leave no later than 7:50 to ensure we're on time."
With that, Madame Bones smiles again at Harry and exits the room, closing the door softly behind her.
"Well, I suppose we had best get to know each other quickly then, Mr. Potter." Ms. Raynotte tells him, her tone wry.
"Err, sorry. I'm not really sure what's happening. This morning has been a bit of a whirlwind. I thought I was just having a hearing with Madame Bones, but when we got here, she said it was a full trial. And then, when I said I hadn't been told of the changes or talked to a solicitor, she sent you a note."
Ms. Raynotte gestures for him to sit again, and she takes the chair Madame Bones had recently vacated. Sitting, she places a small briefcase he hadn't noticed on the floor next to her.
"I see. That does sound like a confusing morning. Let me try and explain what I can do, although you'll need to fill me in on some details, I'm sure."
She pauses to make sure he's following, and he nods quickly.
"As Amelia mentioned, I'm her family solicitor. She didn't share many details in her note, but she believes that you desperately need a lawyer, at least for today's trial. If I am acting as your solicitor, I can speak on your behalf, present evidence, and call for witnesses - although with no notice, I probably won't be able to do much of either…but regardless, I know the laws and procedures of the Wizengamot and can help you through today's trial. Is that something you'd like?"
She's barely finished speaking before he says, "Yes! Yes, I'd very much appreciate that. Er, do I need to pay you?" He lifts the galleon Amelia had shoved into his hand, "Sorry, this is all I've got on me," he says sheepishly.
Ms. Raynotte smiles, and again, Harry is struck by how much it changes her face, seeming to light up her blue eyes and make her more approachable. She reaches forward and takes the galleon. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. Unfortunately, we don't have time for a full client-solicitor negotiation, but let's just verbally agree that this galleon will pay for my services today to act in your best interest during your trial and to ensure that anything you share with me today remains confidential for the rest of my life."
Harry's surprised the money would last longer than today, "Wow. All that for a galleon?"
Ms. Raynotte's lips quirked in something closer to a smirk than a smile, "Well, it's a bit lower than my usual rates, but I owe Amelia a few favors. If you'd like to continue with my services after today - beyond the confidentiality I already spoke of, which is standard - we'll have to discuss my fees. But time is short - tell me quickly about the magic the Ministry has charged you with - leave as little as possible out."
Harry agrees, quickly summarizing his summer and the events of a few weeks ago when the two dementors came to Privet Drive. She interrupts him rarely, only asking a few clarifying questions, such as how long he'd lived with the Dursleys, when he learned how to cast the Patronus spell, and if there had been any health effects following the Dementor exposure that either he or his cousin had experienced.
By the time he was finished retelling, they only had a few moments left before they had to step out and meet Amelia, so Ms. Raynotte sped through, explaining her quickly thought-up strategy.
The Ministry had accused him of breaching the Statute of Secrecy by performing magic in front of his cousin. However, Ms. Raynotte explained to him that, pursuant to Amendment 9.3.12 in the Statue of Secrecy, members of a wizard's household were entitled to know about magic. As Harry's primary residence was with the Dursleys, all three of them could know about and witness magic. Thus, Harry had not violated the Statue of Secrecy in any way, and Ms. Raynotte would request a dismissal of this charge right off the bat.
The accusation of underage magic would be more complicated to dismiss, as justified usage or not, Harry had performed magic. While it was permissible for underage witches or wizards to use magic in defensive situations, Ms. Raynotte explained that dementors showing up in Privet Drive was highly irregular and against ministry policy and, depending on why they were there - potentially illegal. It would be a harder sell to the Wizengamot that it had happened at all.
For a moment, Harry was incensed, thinking Ms. Raynotte didn't believe him, but she quickly reassured him that wasn't what she was saying.
"To be honest, Mr. Potter, there are many other spells a young wizard stuck with muggles all summer would want to perform before using the patronus charm. If you just wanted to wave your wand around because you missed the magic, I have to believe you'd go with something a little easier or something that would actually benefit you while at your relative's house. If you used the patronus charm, I think it's more likely because you needed it."
With that, Harry relaxed again and let her finish explaining. "It's a shame this is your second offense for underage magic, Harry. First-timers are just given a warning and note in your file."
Harry snorts, "Right, well, my 'first offense' wasn't even me. That was a house elf, and the Ministry just assumed."
Ms. Raynotte's gaze sharpened, "Explain what you mean, Mr. Potter."
He shrugs, "A house elf came to my relatives' house. He cast the hovering spell that the Ministry registered as me."
"Do you have access to this house elf, Mr. Potter?"
Harry thinks, "Er, I dunno." He shrugs, "I haven't spoken to him in a while."
"Try and call him." Ms. Raynotte glances at her watch and winces, their time is short.
"Er, Dobby? Can you hear me?"
There's a long moment where all that can be heard is the tick tick tick of the clock on Madame Bones's desk, and Harry is sure Dobby isn't coming. But then there's a POP, and Dobby is standing in front of Harry, staring up at him with his great big eyes that are already tearing up.
"Harry Potter calls for Dobby?"
Harry is about to greet the elf when Ms. Raynotte leans forward and catches Dobby's attention.
"Hello, Dobby," she says kindly, "I am Evie Raynotte, Mr. Potter's solicitor. Unfortunately he's caught up in some legal trouble at the moment, and he tells me that you once cast a hovering charm in his relatives home several years ago. Is this true?"
Dobby glances between them for a moment before his ears droop low, and he says, "Dobby did be casting hovering magic in Harry Potter's home three years ago. Dobby just be trying to help Harry Potter."
"That's great, Dobby. Would you like to help Mr. Potter today?" Dobby perks up again at her words and begins to hop in excitement.
"Yes! Yes, Missy Raynotte, Dobby would very much like to help Harry Potter."
"Wonderful, I'm delighted to hear that Dobby. I'll need you to give an official statement that you were the one who cast a hovering charm in Mr. Potter's residence three years ago. I may need to call on you during the trial in a few moments to give a witness statement as well if you're willing?"
When Dobby continues nodding his head happily, she asks, "Would you also be willing to go to the Improper Use of Magic Office and get the report for Mr. Potter's use of underage magic. Actually, go ahead and just get a copy of his entire file. Once you have that, if you can slip it into my bag - along with your statement, I'd greatly appreciate it."
She glances at her watch again, "If it's possible to get all of those documents within the next twenty to twenty-five minutes, that should be enough time. Mr. Potter and I need to go now, Dobby, but you've been a big help, and Mr. Potter and I are both very grateful."
Dobby does a little dance in joy before saying, "Thank you, Missy Raynotte; Dobby is happy to help you and Harry Potter." Dobby looks back at Harry with a giant grin and then disappears with another POP.
Standing and gathering her briefcase, Ms. Raynotte turns back to him, "Well then, Harry, that ties things up nicely. We can get the charge for the Statue of Secrecy violation dismissed, and if I get your earlier offense of underage magic corrected, then this will have only been the first offense and, therefore, not one you can be charged for." At his drawn-in breath, she raises a hand and makes a placating gesture, "I know, I know. This shouldn't have been an offense either because you acted in self-defense." She waves him up from his seat and walks to the office door before continuing, "And in the future, you can try and get this stuck off your record as well. Hopefully, when the Ministry is a bit more…friendly to you again. Unfortunately, I think this is the best you'll get with how things are currently, and as your solicitor, I'm advising you to avoid getting into the dementor situation for now. Just let me get it all dismissed so you're not facing expulsion and criminal charges, and then the details can be dealt with later."
Harry supposes that makes sense. He's a bit annoyed that he won't be able to defend himself with the whole truth, but he figures it's better to be cleared of everything and take the easier way out, than stick with his story - with the truth - and potentially be found guilty.
Following Ms. Raynotte back into the hall, they see Madame Bones waiting nearby. She glances over both of them and sends a questioning look towards Ms. Raynotte, "Was that a house elf I felt breaching the wards?"
"Yes, we needed to speak to one. I've agreed to work with Mr. Potter today and represent him."
Madame Bones sighed in apparent relief and gestured with her arm to back the way he and Tonks had come. "Wonderful, I'm sure you'll serve him well today. We should be going."
Madame Bones began walking, but Ms. Raynotte fell back and walked with Harry. He noticed her wand moving in a quick gesture, and the sounds of the D.M.L.E. faded to quiet background noise.
"I've cast a quick privacy charm. It's not totally foolproof, but it should keep us from being overheard by any casual eavesdroppers. I need you to understand that this trial will likely be somewhat hostile, Mr. Potter. Members of the Wizengamot might say things that are intentionally designed to frustrate or upset you. They will likely call into question your character, judgment, and mental sanity. You must not react." She sternly tells him, her blue eyes lasering into his, "Unless you are asked a direct question at a particular part of the trial, you do not need to respond. Let me speak for you. You have the right to not respond, and I implore you not to. If we do this right, you won't have to say a word, and I might be able to embarrass the Wizengamot all in one go. Do you understand?"
Harry nods. He wonders if he should feel frustrated that his truth is being silenced again, but honestly, he's just relieved. He doesn't have the best track record for keeping his tongue but avoiding speaking at something as official as this sounds great. He would hate to say something that made things worse.
And Merlin knew Harry had no clue how a Wizengamot trial was supposed to be run, nor had he had much time to prepare. This all sounded much bigger than the quick hearing he had been planning for.
Amelia is walking a few steps in front of them, and they pause when she stops in front of an elevator bank. After a brief moment, the golden gates slide open, and the three of them enter. Thankfully, they have the space to themselves, barring a few parchment airplanes that zoom in above their head.
Harry looks back at Ms. Raynotte, hoping she might have more advice for him, but she looks him slowly up and down, her expression unhappy.
"Hmm. I wish I had another hour to prep you, but we'll make do. Are you all right if I transfigure your…outfit into something more appropriate. It's not permanent, but it should last a few hours. Just enough to get you through the trial and home again."
Harry feels shame burning in his stomach - it's not his fault that this is his best clothing. Even his school robes are fraying at the sleeves, and the hems are inches too short. Besides, he thought he'd look silly wearing Hogwarts robes at a hearing that might expel him from said school. He nods to Ms. Raynotte and manages to contain his flinch when her wand points at him.
A few transfiguration spells and charms later, and Harry is dressed - or appears to be dressed - in a much more formal outer robe, black with green at the waist, sleeves, and hems, paired with simple black slacks and white button-down.
Much better.
The elevator is slowing down when Ms. Raynotte turns to Madame Bones and says, "You should probably enter the courtroom separately from us. We'll give it a minute or two before following you."
The older woman nods in acceptance, then turns to Harry and gives him a small smile. "Good luck, Mr. Potter." The grates slide open, and she exits without looking back.
The nerves Harry has been doing his best to ignore, start to creep up again, and his hands itch as if they're containing his lightning beneath his skin. Like it's begging to be released.
Ms. Raynotte looks at him and gently places one hand on his shoulder. "Remember, Harry. Let me do the talking. If you're asked a direct question, look to me before answering. We'll discuss it, and I'll either answer for you or give you the go-ahead to answer yourself. Understand?"
He just nods and tries to force a smile back.
Her hand drops, and somehow - impossibly - her back straightens even more, and her chin lifts to float high enough that he thinks she'd be looking down her nose, even at people inches taller than her. "Right then. Follow me, and let's get this farce of a trial over with."
She steps from the elevator and sets off into the hallway lined with shiny black stones. Harry follows her.