The courtroom at the Ministry of Magic was a place designed for intimidation. It was a vast, dark stone dungeon, the members of the Wizengamot seated on high, tiered benches that looked down upon the accused like vultures on a perch. In the center of the room sat a single, intimidating chair with magical chains on its arms. Harry was led to it, his heart hammering against his ribs, feeling like a criminal being led to his execution.
Cornelius Fudge sat in the highest seat, his face a mask of grim, self-important authority. To his right sat his odious, pink-clad Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge. At a slightly lower tier was Amelia Bones, her expression stern and unreadable behind her monocle.
"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," Fudge boomed, his voice echoing in the chamber.
"Into offenses committed by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones,
Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior
Undersecretary to the Minister…"
He droned on, listing the charges: a violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and a violation of the International Statute of Secrecy.
When he had finished, he looked down at Harry with a smug expression. "You may now present your defense."
"The defense calls its advocate," Dumbledore's voice rang out from the back of the courtroom, where he sat as an observer.
Fudge scowled. "Very well, Dumbledore. Who have you brought? Some high-priced city lawyer?"
"Not at all," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling.
The heavy doors to the courtroom opened. Ariana Dumbledore walked in.
She was not dressed in school robes. She wore simple, impeccably tailored, dark grey legal robes that were formal and utterly professional. Her hair was tied back in a neat, severe chignon. She carried a single, thin leather folio. She walked to the center of the room with a calm, unhurried grace, her serene composure a stark, unnerving contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the dungeon. A wave of shocked, confused murmurs swept through the Wizengamot.
"What is the meaning of this?" Fudge sputtered, his face turning puce. "This is a child!"
"This," Ariana stated, her voice cool, clear, and carrying to every corner of the room without any need for magical amplification, "is Ariana Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, Third Class. Acting as Counsel for the Defence for Mr. Harry Potter. I believe my credentials and my right to be here have been pre-approved by your own office, Minister, at the insistence of Professor Dumbledore."
Fudge and Umbridge exchanged furious, flustered looks. They were trapped. To dismiss her would be a public relations nightmare. With a strangled grunt, Fudge gestured for her to proceed.
Ariana turned to face the Wizengamot. She did not look at them with fear or supplication. She looked at them as if they were a particularly slow-witted class she was about to instruct.
"We will address the charges in order," she began, her voice a scalpel. "Charge one: a violation of the International Statute of Secrecy. The alleged offense took place in the vicinity of the Weasley family home, known as the Burrow." She looked up at Fudge. "Minister, is the Burrow registered with the Ministry as a magical dwelling, located in a magically-secluded, Unplottable area?"
"Well, yes, of course it is," Fudge answered, confused.
"And were any Muggles present during the incident?" Ariana pressed.
"No, the only witnesses were members of the Weasley family," Fudge conceded, beginning to look uneasy.
"Then by the Ministry's own definition," Ariana concluded, "no Muggles were present or endangered. The event took place entirely within a magical enclave. Therefore, the International
Statute of Secrecy was not, and could not have been, violated. The charge is factually baseless."
She closed her folio with a soft thump. "I move for immediate dismissal of the first charge."
A murmur went through the Wizengamot. Amelia Bones made a note on her parchment, a flicker of a smile on her face. Fudge looked as though he had swallowed a lemon.
"Very well," he grumbled. "The first charge is… dismissed. But the second charge remains! The flagrant use of a Patronus Charm in a non-school environment by an underage wizard!"
"Let us examine that charge," Ariana said, her composure unwavering. "The Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, Article Three, Paragraph C, explicitly states that the use of magic is permissible for an underage witch or wizard in situations of immediate, lifethreatening peril to themselves or others."
"And what peril was there?" Umbridge simpered, her voice like poisoned honey. "A bit of nighttime chill?"
"The peril," Ariana said, turning her icy gaze on Umbridge, "was the presence of two Dementors." She then looked at Amelia Bones. "Director Bones, would you classify two fully-grown Dementors, creatures under the direct control of the Ministry, appearing in a residential area, as a life-threatening situation?"
Amelia Bones's expression was grim. "I would."
"And I have sworn testimony from seven members of the Weasley family, all of whom are respected pure-bloods, confirming the presence of said Dementors," Ariana continued. "So, Mr. Potter acted in self-defense, a clear and legally sound exception to the Decree."
"But he still performed the magic!" Fudge insisted desperately. "He is underage!"
"Is he?" Ariana asked, her voice dangerously soft. She opened her folio again. "I would like to call the court's attention to the rules of the Triwizard Tournament, as ratified and announced by the Ministry's own representative, one Bartemius Crouch Sr."
She looked directly at Fudge. "At the announcement of the champions, Mr. Crouch, acting in his official capacity, declared that all four champions, including the then-fourteen-year-old Harry Potter, would be considered of-age for the participation of the tournament, granting them the magical rights and responsibilities of an adult wizard. This was done to allow them to legally learn and use the powerful magic necessary to survive the tasks."
She let that sink in. "The Triwizard Cup was the designated endpoint of the tournament. The tournament did officially conclude after the winner was declared. But its associated magical dispensations, remain in effect for the forseeable future, simply because no underage wizard has ever participated in the Triwizard Tournament, period. Therefore, by the Ministry's own ruling, Harry Potter is, at this present moment, legally considered an adult wizard."
A stunned, absolute silence filled the courtroom.
Ariana had done it. She had used the Ministry's own rules, their own pronouncements, their own incompetence in allowing Harry's name to be entered, as the foundation of her argument. She had systematically, logically, and ruthlessly dismantled their entire case from the inside out.
"The charges," she concluded, her voice ringing with finality, "are therefore not just baseless, but null and void under the very laws this body is sworn to uphold."
She closed her folio and stood back, her work done. Checkmate.
Fudge sat there, his face a mottled purple, his mouth agape. Umbridge looked as though she had swallowed a toad, a point to be noted, considering she always looked the same. The members of the Wizengamot were whispering furiously among themselves.
Amelia Bones cleared her throat, a sharp, decisive sound. "In light of the evidence presented by Counsel for the Defence," she announced, her voice booming with authority, "I find no grounds for conviction. I vote to clear the accused of all charges."
A wave of assent rippled through the Wizengamot. The case had been so thoroughly annihilated that even Fudge's staunchest allies couldn't find a foothold for argument.
"Cleared," Fudge finally choked out, his voice full of impotent rage. "Cleared of all charges."
Harry was free, he realized with a startle. He stood up, his legs shaking, and looked at Ariana. She gave him a single, small nod, a look that said, The outcome was never in doubt.
As they walked out of the dark, oppressive dungeon and back into the light of the Ministry atrium, Dumbledore placed a proud hand on both their shoulders. Harry had survived another trial, not by magic or luck, but by the irrefutable, unassailable power of pure, cold logic. The Ministry had tried to make him a scapegoat, and Ariana Dumbledore had turned their own laws into a weapon and beaten them into submission with it.