The question of how the witnesses—who had clearly been struck by Memory Charms—were later cured had not gone unnoticed.
Most people had simply assumed it was Dumbledore's doing.
After all, everyone knew Dumbledore was a master of memory magic—and Vaughn Weasley's strongest supporter.
But Vaughn's answer stunned the chamber.
A twelve-year-old wizard, already exceptional in Potions, who had also mastered memory magic?
That was… unsettling.
Cornelius Fudge, however, wasn't interested in Vaughn's talent.
Ever since Vaughn had outplayed him once, Fudge had stopped viewing the boy as anything resembling a child.
Fixing Vaughn with a sharp stare, he said,
"So, Mr. Weasley—you accuse Gilderoy Lockhart of abusing Memory Charms, while simultaneously using memory magic yourself to 'repair' the victims so they may testify. Tell me—who can prove that you didn't tamper with their minds?"
Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Amelia Bones.
"Madam Bones—does the Wizengamot have any law permitting a prosecutor to act in such a manner?"
Bones shook her head.
"No."
Then she added immediately,
"But there is likewise no law forbidding it."
Smack!
Fudge clapped his hands together, delight flashing across his face.
"Excellent. I appreciate your honesty. Then here's the issue: Is it appropriate for Vaughn Weasley to serve both as accuser and healer of the witnesses?"
"If no one can prove he didn't interfere with their minds, then the credibility of their testimony must be questioned."
"And since the law neither permits nor forbids his actions, doesn't that suggest our legal system is flawed? Is it appropriate to judge an internationally renowned author under defective laws?"
Bones frowned deeply.
"Minister Fudge—what exactly are you trying to do?"
"I'm safeguarding Britain's international reputation," Fudge replied innocently, spreading his hands. "Surely you wouldn't want foreign wizarding communities to laugh at us because of legal loopholes?"
"Therefore, I propose that Gilderoy Lockhart's trial be postponed—until the Wizengamot clarifies whether Mr. Weasley's actions were lawful."
"What do you say, honourable members?"
Sophistry.
From the gallery, Hermione was furious.
She knew there were legal provisions allowing third-party verification when evidence might be magically altered—but Fudge deliberately ignored them, expanding the issue from evidence to flaws in the law itself.
And worse—
He was technically allowed to do so.
Not because he was Minister, but because the law required institutional balance.
Hermione saw it clearly: several purple-robed members were wavering.
They hadn't supported the trial out of loyalty to Vaughn—but because the evidence had been overwhelming.
Now that doubt had been introduced, hesitation followed naturally.
Seeing Fudge's smug expression—and the smile creeping back onto Lockhart's loathsome face—Hermione blurted out:
"Why not use Veritaserum? One dose would reveal the truth immediately!"
Fudge glanced sideways.
"A… child? Madam Bones, the observers' gallery is not permitted to speak, correct?"
Hermione swallowed, then spoke quickly:
"My apologies, Madam Bones. But as a witch, I cannot accept a criminal escaping justice. Minister Fudge—even I know Lockhart is guilty. Why don't you?"
"Tsk, tsk," Fudge interrupted cruelly. "Some people's privilege in the Wizengamot has clearly gone too far."
"Fortunately, I won't stoop to arguing with children. And to answer your naïve question—Veritaserum requires Ministry approval. I, the Minister, declare Gilderoy Lockhart innocent and will not authorize it."
He lifted his chin smugly.
"Aurors? Remove this disruptive girl at once."
Fudge was enjoying himself immensely.
For months, Vaughn Weasley had humiliated him—with Dumbledore's backing—making him a laughingstock.
Now, at last, he had his revenge.
Lockhart was nothing more than a tool.
And the tool had served its purpose perfectly.
A Minister Expelled
But something went wrong.
Fudge looked at Vaughn—
Expecting rage.
There was none.
Vaughn rose calmly.
"I apologize," he said to the Wizengamot. "My haste led me to overlook procedural necessity."
Murmurs followed.
Then Vaughn turned to Hermione.
"My dear—please wait outside."
She obeyed.
But as she reached the door, Vaughn spoke again:
"Cornelius Fudge—you should leave as well."
Fudge froze.
"…What?"
"You are not a member of the Wizengamot," Vaughn said coolly. "Nor were you summoned. You have no speaking rights. Please exit."
"You—!"
Fudge raised a finger—
BANG.
A silent spell hurled him through the doors.
The Minister of Magic was plastered against the corridor wall like a bloated frog.
Vaughn calmly lowered his wand.
"For order's sake," he said mildly, "I was compelled to act. Rest assured—no harm done."
No one spoke.
Because the Minister of Magic had just been magically ejected from the courtroom.
Azkaban
Order restored, Vaughn continued:
"Minister Fudge's objections will be considered. Until the law is clarified, the trial must pause."
"But," he added evenly, "that does not prevent us from remanding the suspect into custody."
A hush fell.
"There is only one holding facility in Britain," Vaughn said.
"Azkaban."
Lockhart fainted on the spot.
And so—
Until judgment could be rendered,
Gilderoy Lockhart was sent to Azkaban.
Public Fallout
The Daily Prophet exploded.
Headlines.
Letters.
Rita Skeeter.
Sales soared.
Some protested.
Most gawked.
Few sympathized.
The Wizengamot issued a bland clarification.
Vaughn issued none.
He was already busy.
London, New Plans
On July 17, Vaughn appeared at the Grangers' door.
He stayed.
And that night, he stood in Diagon Alley—planning cinemas, projectors, and a revolution in wizarding entertainment.
Money didn't interest him.
Change did.
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