"Now I am very excited to start introducing you to what has become my specialty," Filius Flitwick said excitedly. "Defensive Charms."
As yet, the Headmaster had not found a replacement Defence Against the Arts professor, so the teachers were sharing the position. The more cynical students said that it was because he had not tried looking as yet, while the rest thought that it was because it had been less than forty-eight hours since Umbridge had been escorted from the building. After a short stay at the Three Broomsticks she had been transferred to the Ministry holding cells. The student interviews were in progress, with almost every parent giving permission.
"Raise your hand if you have heard of the Patronus charm?" Flitwick asked. Then promptly fell off his stack of books in surprise as all of the fifth-year Gryffindor boys, commonly known to be the least studious of his students, raised their hands, it was not the group he expected to have heard of advanced charms. "Goodness, well we are going to be working towards that today. This will essential be an introductory lesson which will be followed up on in both sixth and seventh years with more practical elements. We will start off with the theory. Now can anyone tell me anything about the Patronus charm?"
Again, he was surprised by the number of hands elevated, ignoring the students who usually answered he turned to Seamus Finnigan. "Mr Finnigan, what can you tell me about it?" He did not really expect much but any participation in class that did not consist of blowing things up needed to be encouraged.
"I think me Mam said, it's a magical guardian innit?" Seamus frowned.
"It is indeed, well done. One point for Gryffindor. Anything else Mr Thomas?" the boy was muggle raised so it was curious that he had heard of the charm.
"It can be used to keep away Dementors and um….another creature thing…um Leth…folds."
"Lethifolds, well done. Another point. Who else?"
"Let me see," he glanced around and chose another student who rarely raised their hand in class. "Yes Mr Weasley?"
"Rumour has it that if you are a dark wizard you can't produce one, all you will get is maggots," the red-head grimaced. Several of the Ravenclaw girls paled.
"I think you have been listening to your brothers. That was indeed the rumour, but it has since been proven false."
"Perhaps someone from Ravenclaw this time, Mr Boot?"
"Ah, I don't know much but if you aren't strong enough it can be just a shield."
"Correct, take a point. Does anybody know the form it takes other than a shield and what that form is called?"
By this time Hermione was practically standing in her place, with her arm raised, however the professor choose a different student.
"Miss Padma Patil?"
"That would be its corporal form, which is in the shape of an animal."
"A point to you as well. Now I would like you to write an essay, just one foot, to be completed in this class covering, the casting, incantation and meaning of the form a Corporal Patronus takes. I'll give bonus marks if you can find out who debunked the rumour about the maggots. Then we will move on to trying to cast the charm. Don't be disappointed if you don't even produce a wisp of silver smoke at this time as it is very difficult, and we do not expect more than a silver mist this year, a shield in sixth and possibly seventh if you work very hard, you might produce a corporal patronus. Though many adults cannot produce one, so don't be discouraged."
There was a rustling as they all removed ink, quills, parchments and texts from their bags.
"Excuse me Professor?" Harry said politely, ignoring Hermione hissing at him to stop interrupting and to put his arm down.
"Yes, Mr Potter?" Filius glanced at the boy in interest noting the boy had one hand writing quickly while glancing between the Professor and the page.
"Um, well, what if we can already cast it?" Harry asked.
"Well, I guess, we could work on other things in those practical classes, only so long as it is a corporal patronus you can cast." Flitwick remembered there had been all those rumours in the boy's third year. Oh, and that was right, the incident over the summer.
"Yes Sir, and Percival as well."
"Really oh that is wonderful," he practically clapped his hand in his excitement.
"Come up the front the both of you, as soon as you have finished your essays."
It was the fastest Harry had every written and he had to admit that the penmanship was particularly poor, but it was an opportunity to show Flitwick what he could do, and maybe remind him of the promised extra lessons.
"Professor," Harry said quietly, as Flitwick finished pointing Seamus to the correct chapter in the text.
"Ah, yes Mr Potter, finished have you? And Mr Graves? Ok, down the front we come."
The professor led them to the front of the room.
"Now if you would be so kind as to cast…."
"Expecto Patronum," Harry incanted. Then promptly dropped his wand in surprise when instead of Prongs a large feline shape burst forth.
"Sorry Professor!" he squeaked.
Percival was staring at the point in space where Harry's patronus had just dissolved into mist.
"Mr Graves?" Flitwick prompted.
"Sorry, sir," Percival shook his head and flicked his wand, producing his panther.
"Oh well done, ten points Mr Potter and twenty for you Mr Graves for the silent casting. For homework Mr Potter, I want you to start work on casting it non-verbally. Mr Graves can help you. Mr Graves you are to work on producing it wandlessly."
"Um, Sir, a while ago you offered to give me some additional lessons," Harry prompted.
"Oh my! I had forgotten. We will need a place to practice."
"There is a room we use to practice on the fifth-floor sir," Harry suggested.
"Oh I do like this space," Flitwick said as he entered the room. "Maybe I should ask for it for my classroom next year."
"Um, sir we would really appreciate it if you didn't. We put a lot of effort into cleaning it and fixing it up. It's a great place to do some quiet study."
"Indeed. Is this the reason why all of the Gryffindor boys seem to be doing so well this year?"
"I don't know. I think a large part of it had to do with proving Umbridge wrong. Not to mention finding out that our booklists were missing at least one vital book."
"What book was that?"
"The potions preparation manual."
The professor frowned, remembering a rumour from the year before. "What about Basic Wand Care and Wand Movements- A beginners guide?"
"Never heard of it Sir," Harry stated emphatically.
"Well I suggest you borrow a copy from the library and share it around. It should also have been on your list. It's no wonder that Mr Weasley and Mr Longbottom were using poorly matched wands for such a long time. Now have you been practicing your Patroni?"
"I can't get it without saying the incantation yet, but I can produce a silver cloud."
"Same," Percival said.
"Well let me see. Remember concentrate on a happy memory" he encouraged.
"If you don't mind me saying Sir, it doesn't have to be a memory, or at least not a real one."
"What are you saying Mr Potter."
"It can be just an idea or a dream, not a real memory. When I first cast it, I was focussing on the joy and confidence at the belief that I was the one who cast the spell. It's confusing, I know, but you have to know the situation. After that it was because I had met Sirius and the thought of hopefully having a family and escaping the Dursley's. Now that I have a family it is the memories that I've made."
"So, you are postulating that it is the emotion that fuels the charm, and the memory is merely a conduit, therefore if you can create the emotions by another means, for example a thought then it will also work."
"Yes Sir."
"Good. That is exactly right, though many people can not generate enough emotion from the other methods so focussing on a happy memory is easiest. I want you to concentrate on the emotion then, and see if that helps. Remember to make it non-verbal, not even a whisper."
Harry drew his wand and cast, lips tightly sealed together, a solid silver shield forming before him.
"Oh, Bravo Mr Potter, keep going. Now Mr Graves."
Percival stood silently for a moment, gathering himself, the he raised his hand and….his panther burst forth, to stalk the room.
"Oh well done! This is truly marvellous," Flitwick clapped his hands. "Well done both of you. Keep trying throughout the week. Now, I want us to move on to some other duelling charms. Mr Graves if you already know the spells you are to work without incantations and where you achieve that you are to continue wandlessly. First…"
And so, the training began. They started with advanced shielding spells, Protego Maxima, Protego Totalum and Protego Horribilis. All of which Percival managed with silent wandless casting to the short professor's surprise. Then given that some spells could not be shielded against they practiced dodging.
"Well I must say you have both done very well. Much better than I had anticipated. It is unusual for wizards of your age to have the stamina you do, especially with the amount of time you have been both spent in the infirmary recently."
"The healer I go to over the summer insisted I have an exercise program to help my bones recover."
"What happened?" Flitwick asked in concern.
"Um, let's just say that before this year, I wasn't fed the way a young wizard should be and leave it go at that."
"But surely Andromeda treated you the same as Nymphadora?"
"Androm…..Professor Flitwick, Dumbledore sent me to live with my mother's sister, Petunia."
"He did what? That lying….I knew something was wrong! When you were so small in first year, he said that you were a fussy eater. I pointed out the rags you were wearing and he said…"
"Thank you for noticing professor," Harry interrupted, "but Dumbledore left me on their porch in the middle of the night. He was never going to tell you the truth."
"Has someone told Severus? He will be devastated. He was good friends with your mother you know. Before their forth year, you rarely saw one without the other."
"Yes, sir Professor Snape knows, and he wasn't best pleased. He has been making my nutrient and bone strengthening potions."
"Good! I believe that I need to have a word…."
"Professor please don't."
"But why? Mr Pot…Harry," his tone softened, "he cannot be allowed to get away with this. I would have found you myself if I had known that was where he had placed you."
"I know, but," Harry went with his gut instinct to trust his professor. "The fact is Dumbledore is planning something and we don't quite know what it is. If I take him to court over it now, the chances are that he would lose the Headmastership but would still have enough influence to avoid imprisonment. If that happens then he will be out in the world doing who knows what. If he is here at the school, then we can keep an eye on him."
"But…." Flitwick then sighed. "Yes, I see. The Headmaster has always been….well focussed on his idea of the Greater Good I suppose. Not to mention willing to take whatever steps he deems necessary to ensure that it happens no matter the cost. Still, I am very sorry that I did not push him harder."
"If you had figured it out sooner, the chances are that he would have Obliviated you."
Flitwick was not the Head of Ravenclaw for no reason, "Oh poor Poppy!"
"It's only conjecture at this point, but we believe so. We are hoping to be able to have her checked at some point."
"I will keep my silence Mr Potter, but should you need anything outside of these lessons, please do not hesitate to ask."
"I won't sir, thank you."
"If I can manage it I will arrange to have Madame Pomfrey examined. Mr Graves, I don't want to see anymore holding back in class!"
"Yes sir."
"Well off you go then boys, it would not do to be out after curfew. I've heard all about your mentoring and how the younger years look up to you both, so you had better set a good example. Good night."
"That's mostly Ron sir. Night professor and thank you."
It was the last Staff meeting of the year and the teachers had all gathered in the staff room.
Dumbledore, as was his habit, was the last to enter the room. He liked to let the teachers have some time to talk amongst themselves before he arrived, often interesting titbits were discussed and reported back to him by the portraits in the room.
"Well good evening everyone. How are we travelling? It is not long until the OWL and NEWT exams, is there anything we need to be aware of?"
"I'll start," Professor Sprout said, sitting up in her chair. "My NEWT students are all performing well and I should imagine they are all on track for either Exceed Expectations or Outstanding, unless something goes wrong. The OWL students are the usual mixed bag, though I expect good things from Neville Longbottom, who seems to have come into his own this year."
"Longbottom, is a disaster!" Snape scoffed.
"Oh stop it! If you just eased up on the boy, you would find he has an exceptional knowledge of plants that would benefit him in potions."
"Yes, but he does not bring it across!"
"How can he when he is petrified of you?! We've all heard the rumour of how you are the boy's boggart. That should not be Severus! You are a teacher, not a fear inducing monster."
"Well excuse me for trying to ensure that none of the students are injured in my class!" Severus protested benignly, knowing full well that Albus Dumbledore would not allow him to act in any other way. He held hope that with Harry and Percival tutoring all the Gryffindors they would do alright on their OWLs and should any of them make it into the NEWT classes then he would find a way to ensure, even if he could not treat them any better, that they at least got all the information they required. Maybe he could mention employing private tutors to Ha….Potter. He deliberately subsided into grumbling not noticing the odd look he was receiving from Filius Flitwick.
"Right so apart from Mr Longbottom…" Dumbledore prompted.
"Mr Potter, Mr Graves and Miss Abbott have come along nicely this year, only falling a little behind Mr Longbottom. The rest of the class is a fairly standard mix."
"Good, good," Dumbledore said distractedly. What was going on with the boy? Surely the Dursley's had beaten in to him that he could not do well at school? By now it should be an ingrained habit! He resolved to have a word with them before the boy went back in the summer. "Who's next?"
"Oh, I might as well get it over with," Severus Snape huffed. "The students are abysmal as per usual. I only expect a couple of Outstandings from the fifth years."
"And who do you expect to score so well Severus?" McGonagall asked.
"Draco of course, Miss Davis, and Mr Graves." There was no way he was telling the old coot that he was hopeful Harry would also score an Outstanding.
"Not Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked in surprise.
"Not until she learns some finesse, no."
"I don't suppose I can persuade you into letting the EE students into your class Severus?" Dumbledore wheedled.
Severus knew it was an act, it was the same set up each year, nearly word for word. "No Headmaster. The NEWT potions students cannot just follow the text! They must be able to modify, correct and invent in order to pass their NEWTS and avoid incidents. The students who score EE in their OWLS do not have those skills."
"And the NEWT students?"
"Passable."
"Why Severus, that's practically a compliment! Do you not have the Weasley twins in your class?" Sprout asked.
"Hmm, well no one can say they are not inventive."
In actual fact Severus was quite pleased with the twins, his class was one they did not muck around in. In return for their good behaviour, he allowed them time in the lab and often cast an eye over their new potions. He had been particularly pleased with the animal transformation potion and had even asked them if they could try to make one for bats, much to their delight. Crossing his arms across his chest he let them all know he was done.
"Right then Professor Binns?" Albus looked around, but the Ghost had floated off during the earlier discussion. "I will catch up with him later."
"I have news," Filius Flitwick practically twittered from his seat.
"Yes?" Albus asked curiously.
"Firstly, the NEWT students all seem to be going well, though I have recommended Daisy Sotherby take her NEWTs at the August sitting at the Ministry, due to the situation at home."
"And what situation is that?" Minerva asked.
"Oh, I thought you were all aware," Filius Flitwick was shocked that Minerva was not aware as the Deputy Headmistress. "Her mother is exceedingly unwell. Dying in fact and Daisy has had to have several weekends at home to be with her family and help her father with the younger children. Consequently she has been rather distracted. I have given her approval to leave school when the time comes, and I'll monitor the situation to ensure she is coping in the meantime."
"I don't think it is wise for her to just leave the school Filius. I do wish you had spoken to me about it at first."
"Why Albus? Are you going to prevent her from going to her mother's funeral?"
"Well no," he looked oddly ashamed. "But she will need to come back if she wants to sit the exams. I'm afraid I can't give an exemption for her to do them later."
"It is lucky that it is not up to you then. I have already arranged it Albus, Madame Marchbanks was quite happy with the application and accepted it immediately."
Albus looked over his half-moon spectacles and clucked disappointedly, Filius ignored him, "Now apart from that the seventh years are going well and I don't expect any results below and EE. With the fifth years, I have had something of a revelation."
"Really?" McGonagall asked.
"Yes, there are quite a few I am expecting to achieve Outstandings, more than usual, and I believe that I may have two who will go even better and get an O+," he said gleefully.
"And who might they be?"
"Percival Graves and Harry Potter!"
"Who?!" Albus was startled into paying attention again. That dratted boy, if it had just been Herbology he could have let it go, but charms as well! Perhaps it was a talent he had inherited from his mother.
"Mr Potter has been improving nicely and in fact I believe has instituted something of a study group. Meaning all of his year seem to be doing rather well. I have started to progress him onto non-verbal casting."
"That seems a little premature," Albus said disapprovingly. That had to be stopped! There was no point giving him skills that he would not need….though perhaps a little pushing might be good. Enough that if…. No, when he fought Voldemort he would be able to wear him down. There was no chance the boy would defeat him after all, Tom was nearly seventy years his senior and well versed in the esoteric arts, but Harry might be able to wear him down enough that Albus could swoop in, though not early enough to actually save the boy the horcrux needed to be destroyed after all, and defeat the villain. It had worked rather well the last time. Certainly, it was a plan worth considering, over the 'having the boy sacrifice himself' route Albus had been planning.
"I actually think the boy needs to be pushed a little, provided with challenges," Flitwick argued.
"I've noticed an improvement in his work in my class this year as well, perhaps the more intense curriculum has provided the challenge you mentioned," Severus said thoughtfully.
"I thought you said the boy was a dunderhead," Albus challenged.
"He has improved from barely scraping an Acceptable to an Exceeds Expectations, Albus. I am not talking about miracles."
Sprout was nodding while Minerva frowned thoughtfully, "Yes, now that you mention it he has improved greatly in my class as well. I had always thought him strangely average. Which was rather disappointing considering how bright his parents were. This year though he has worked harder. His homework has been of a much better quality and he has asked questions that reveal he is looking into things on a much deeper level. I might try giving him more advanced work for extra credit as a bit of an experiment."
"Or simply also have him work non-verbally," Flitwick said.
"I would not want to step on your toes. No how about we extend him in different ways. I might work towards conjuration or the animals transformation."
"You should consider doing the same for Mr Graves," Flitwick said.
"I might try it with all the students who I expect to achieve Outstandings," she mused.
"I feel that we have gotten a bit off topic. Perhaps you could continue with your assessment Filius, or we shall be here all night," Bathsheba Babbling butted in.
"Oh my, yes. I do apologise, but you know how I get," Filius apologised, there were nods from around the room. "Mr Potter has improved immensely, but the one who has shocked me, especially following his accident has been Mr Graves. Currently I am working on non-verbal wandless casting."
"And how is he going with that?" Albus Dumbledore asked.
"Brilliantly," Filius chortled. "He actually managed to cast his patronus."
"I'm sure I did not understand. Do you mean he can cast a patronus or that he can cast it non-verbally and wandlessly?"
"Oh both," Filius nodded. "It was stunning. He could even manage a Protego Horribilis silently. I am now have him working on doing everything wandlessly."
There was stunned silence from around the room. Albus Dumbledore was frozen, something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. He had been sure. So very sure that the tattoo on the boy's neck was nothing more than a coincidence. Had the boy been unaware? Had the curse enabled him to access powers that he could not before? Had the boy actually died? Was that the catalyst needed for him to become the Master of Death? No, no, no, no! One question followed another through the endless stream of his consciousness. Could the boy still die? Maybe he should test that theory? Albus had always assumed that once he found all three Hallows and became the Master of Death that he would gain immortality. Surely all he had to do was take the Hallows from the boy, then as the wand was passed between wizards the title would pass to him. If he could he would have rid himself of the boy but that would push Harry Potter away and the younger boy was integral to his plans. It was unfortunate. He would have to start subtly discrediting the Graves boy first so that Harry would not stray.
It never once occurred to the old man that two of the Hallows could never be his. The Cloak was only ever passed from Parent to Child in familial linear progression, from Peverell to Potter. Similarly, the ring, passed to the oldest male child in the Peverell family. Currently it was owned by one Tom Marvolo Riddle however should he pass, it would go to the next in line. Only the wand passed its allegiance from hand to hand in battle, a litany to Death through the ages.
Pushing aside his musing he turned back into the robust debate his staff were having and raised a hand to quiet them. "I am sorry I was lost in thought what is this argument about?" he turned to the scowling potions master.
"Ms Babbling feels it is appropriate to nominate a child who has never studied her subject for examination at OWL level, Ms Vector agrees. The rest of us feel that the student should at least sit some kind of test to assess the level their understanding before sending them straight to OWLs."
"Self-study can be patchy at best," McGonagall explained patiently.
"Yes, but the students have been completing the same work sheets as the class all year, and I have given them the worksheets for the past two years as well. All their work has been exemplary."
"And who is this student?"
"Students," Bathsheda stressed. "Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter both pulled out of divination and are studying Runes and Arithmancy independently. I believe that Ron Weasley has been studying Runes as well, though he does not feel that he is ready to sit his OWLS yet and is going to ask if he can test into fifth year Runes at the start of next year. To be quite frank after seeing some of his work I believe Mr Potter, could test straight into the end of seventh year, he is not that far from being able to sit his NEWT. If he had just started in the third year….."
"No," Dumbledore said, he had to draw the line somewhere. Yes, getting some skills so that he could oppose Voldemort for a little while could work, but there was absolutely no point in him studying Arithmancy and Runes.
"I beg your pardon!"
"I said no. Harry may not sit OWLs in your subjects, regardless of any self-study he has done. I have not given him permission, he is to sit his Divination OWL as planned. Mr Longbottom may do as he pleases as long as Augusta agrees, and Neville sits a placement test. I will speak to Molly about Ronald before the start of the year."
"With all due respect Headmaster, you cannot prevent the boy from taking the OWL."
"I'm his Magical guardian!"
Minerva pinched her nose, "No you are not. Currently his magical guardian, according to the Ministry, is Seraphina Picquery. A fact which I believe you have been told Albus. I will contact Madame Picquery and Mrs Weasley. We should treat all the boys the same, and we need to be mindful that this sets a precedent for the future. Usually those who self-study just take their assessments at the Ministry at a later time. I do not think this is a bad method though, as long as you and Septima are happy to mark the additional tests?" McGonagall said. Both witches nodded happy with the compromise.
The rest of the meeting passed unremarkably, with Albus Dumbledore paying little attention because he thoughts were caught up in planning his next move. His distraction meant he missed the other teachers plans to begin a trial of pushing those students who were excelling at the course work across the five core subjects (Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Astronomy, and Herbology) and were putting obvious effort into their others. So far, they had identified Percival Graves, Blaise Zabini, Terry Boot, Padma Patil, Harry Potter and Susan Bones from fifth year. Neville Longbottom was hotly debated as he had improved immensely and they thought that testing in to Ancient Runes might make up for his potions score, at this time they decided to n waiting to see, but at the very least he would receive extension work in Herbology, at Madame Sprout's insistence as she declared him a protege.
The banging of a gavel announced the beginning of the session. A voice rang through the courtroom.
"In the case of Delores Jane Umbridge and Cornelius Oswald Fudge against the students of Hogwarts on the date of the second of April," said the Chief Warlock, his voice easily carrying up into the tiers. Percy Weasley was once again the scribe and had began taking notes. "Delores Jane Umbridge is charged with the possession of a class A prohibited item and its use on more than a dozen witches and wizards of various ages and including the Heirs of six Ancient and Noble houses. Mr Fudge is charged with being an accessory to the aforementioned crimes. Presiding is Tiberius Ogden, Chief Warlock. Interrogator: Augusta Longbottom, Dowager Lady Longbottom. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley. The trial of Delores Jane Umbridge will be first followed immediately by the trial of Cornelius Oswald Fudge. Amelia Susan Bones and Gawain Robards of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will be presenting evidence. Lawyer for….."
The sound of running footsteps could be heard outside the door.
"Madame Bones!" a voice hissed from the other side of the door. "Psst Madame Bones!"
Tiberius Ogden frowned, "Would you like to have a moment to sort that out Madame Bones?"
"Yes, Chief Warlock," she nodded to him respectfully and made her way to the door.
On the other side of the door stood one of the Auror guards, with whom she had a furiously whispered conversation. Ashen faced she turned back to the room and announced in a clear voice, "There has been a break in to the Ministry cells, probably in the early hours of this morning. When the Aurors went to retrieve Ms Umbridge from her holding cell, they found the guards unconscious, the door blown off its hinges and the cell empty. Senior Auror Gawain Robards has commenced an investigation. Initial findings show that there was no incursion into the ministry overnight, both the floos and the entrance to the muggle world have been inactive since Nine- forty-five last night. The first activation this morning was at six-fifteen when Daniel Roper arrived at work. He is one of the janitors and that is the time he arrives every morning. Both Aurors on duty show signs of a concussive hex as well as Oblivation. The Obliviators are trying to retrieve their memories as we speak."
There were shouts from the gantry as Madame Bones finished. It took Tiberius Ogden, releasing a canon like boom from his wand before they settled down.
"We have two options, to continue the trial with the evidence that has been uncovered so far in the absence of Ms Umbridge," he paused to look around the room, "and her Lawyer or to pause proceedings until she is re-arrested. We can then proceed onto the trial for Mr Fudge." He waved his wand and said a quiet incantation. In front of each seat rose a small stand containing two numbered discs and a round divot. "This will be a silent vote, remove the tokens and place your vote face down on the circle first and the other on top of it. The number one shall be a vote for a trial in absentia. The number two shall indicate a vote for delaying the trial of Ms Umbridge and proceeding straight to the trial for Mr Fudge. Is this understood?" There was a chorus of Aye's from around the room. "Ladies and Gentlemen, please cast your votes."
There was a pause before a light flashed on the stand in front of the Chief Warlock. "Let it be known that the decision is made. The trial of Delores Jane Umbridge will commence in absence of her person." He turned to look at Madame Bones, "Madame Bones as you are presenting evidence, I presume that you have recused yourself from voting?"
"Yes, Sir," she replied solemnly. "Gawain Robards has gone to retrieve the evidence. He is turning over the investigation into her disappearance to Senior Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, so he may still be present for the trial."
"Very well," he glanced up and saw that Robards had just re-entered the room followed by an Auror wearing dragon hide gloves carefully carrying a small plain trunk."
"Lawyer for the prosecution, Mr Samuel MacMillan," Augusta called.
He stood from his seat at the side of the floor," Yes Dowager Lady Longbottom."
"Perhaps it would be best if you begin with who you are representing and who engaged your services."
MacMillan walked to the centre of the floor and turned to face the Chief Warlock. A lectern rose from the floor, and he placed his papers upon it.
"I am representing a group of Students at Hogwarts, aged between twelve and eighteen. Initially I was engaged by Heir Potter."
There were snorts and jeers from around the room.
"Heir Potter being aware that due to the current administration's slander of him that he would receive little support from this body, initially just gathered evidence. It started with a pair of Gryffindor second years, Iris Midgen and Veronica Burbage. They were given detention for 'breathing too loudly' and made to write the phrase 'Children should be silent' with a Black Quill enough time in a single session to have visibly bleeding wounds afterwards. Heir Potter accompanied them both via their Head of House's office to the Infirmary. Though both children's magic was notably affected at the time, their subsequent treatment has allowed the wounds to heal, and they have since fully recovered. It was after this incident that Heir Potter first contacted me."
He removed two photographs from the pile, and instead of projecting them as he had done with the notes during Harry's trial, he made copies and sent them flying into the stands. Each copy was life sized to allow the members of the Wizengamot to see just how small the girl's hands were.
"Following this Heir Potter himself, was given a detention when he was visiting a friend in the infirmary. He was made to write the phrase 'I must not tell lies' with the aforementioned Quill, every night for a week. Every night Ms Umbridge inspected the wounds and would announce that 'the message had not sunk in yet, so he had better return the following evening' until the wounds began to scar. Over the next several weeks Heir Potter became aware of several others receiving similar detentions, so he made it known that anyone receiving such a detention should contact me, providing evidence of the injuries incurred. I now have possession of fifty-seven such photographs. Several of the students have provided written statements as to the circumstances of their detentions and I believe that the DMLE was to interview all the students at Hogwarts."
McMillan explained in detail, supported by the photographs and statements, every use of the Black Quill that he was aware of. By the end even those who had mocked the claims at the start were feeling sickened. Gawain Robards then stood and confirmed the details with further information from the student interviews.
"Is there any further evidence pertinent to this case?" Augusta Longbottom asked, when Robards had finished.
"Yes Ma'am," Madame Bones stood. "I was one of the investigating Aurors when Ms Umbridge's rooms were searched. A trunk was found in Ms Umbridge's private rooms. After the initial inspection it was re-sealed and bought to the Ministry to be safely stored."
The box was brought forward and placed on a small table that sat to the side of the lectern but was still clearly visible to the entire Wizengamot. She waved her wand and muttered a phrase. When unsealed she donned a pair of dragon-hide gloves and standing behind the box lifted the lid.
Carefully removing the four Quills from the box, she said, "The contents as logged are follows: four Black Quills." They were taken out and placed on the table beside the box. "Five hundred sheets of parchment, all are covered with writing, dark red in colour. Detection spells logged sixty-five different magical signatures. All writing is in blood."
"But MacMillan said he had fifty-seven clients," a Lord from the tiers called out.
Samuel stood again, having taken a seat off to the side when the Auror had taken the floor, "Correction I said I have fifty-seven photos. These are ones that the students have been courageous enough to take. There may be other students who suffered through a detention but for whatever reason, perhaps a parent working at the Ministry or a lack of knowledge of what is appropriate detention in the magical world, have not sent in photos or otherwise made contact with me." He took his seat once more.
"Thank Mr McMillan," Madame Bones said. "We also believe following the interviews that some students may have been Obliviated of their detentions. They have been referred to the appropriate Healers, but I do not have access to the results at this time." She paused waiting to see if there were further questions.
"Please continue Madame Bones," Tiberius Ogden said.
"Next we have a pair of magic suppression cuffs. A book on ritual magic, which is dog-eared on page one hundred and forty-nine and an onyx and gold ring engraved with the words Insanabilis Dolor."
Noting the confused looks from some of the members Augusta Longbottom asked, "Madame Bones, could you please explain the meaning of those words to the Wizengamot?"
"They translate to Incurable pain. The ring is cursed to cause whoever wears it with a never-ending pain that is believed to be as strong as the cruciatus curse, the curse endures even after the ring is removed."
"And what ritual was on the dog-eared page?" the Chief Warlock asked.
"It is a spell that has been designed to siphon magic from one witch or wizard to another," Bones answered flatly. "I have consulted with the Department of Mysteries if I may call in their expert?"
"Please do so," Ogden nodded.
Amelia nodded to the Auror guarding the door, who opened it and a moment later a figure in a black robe entered. He had his cowl down so that his face was visible, revealing the man to be Algernon Croaker, 'the Face' of the Unspeakables.
"Unspeakable Croaker. Can you tell us about this ritual?"
"The Ritual itself was designed to allow a small portion of magic to be passed from one person to another. Initially it would have been used between family members, such as mother and child. If one, usually the child, was ill, did not have enough magic to heal themselves and looked to be close to death then the siphon could be used to give them a little magical boost. This would allow healing to occur. The siphon was removed when the child was well, or the crisis was over. The concerning factor is the suppression cuffs. Usually the ritual is limited by the available spare magic. On average, in an adult, this is somewhere between ten and fifteen percent. In children studying at Hogwarts that value is much less and is in the order of five percent. By using the suppression cuffs and blocking the child's use of magic, it might be possible to access a greater percentage of their magic, perhaps as much as eighty percent. Though this is completely hypothetical."
A horrified McMillan asked, "And what would then happen when the cuffs were removed?"
The Unspeakable nodded, "The child would only have access to that small remaining portion."
There was silence.
"Are you saying that Ms Umbridge was planning on….stealing our children's magic?" Lord Fawley asked.
"Without her here, I cannot say. However, the suppression cuffs were in the same trunk as the ritual book, along with samples of the children's magic and blood. There were additional notes written in the margins of the page containing the details of ritual, which seem to indicate that at the very least she was searching for a way to use the ritual more than once and to allow the caster to be the one to receive the magic as the ritual is designed for the one performing it to be the one sacrificing their magic."
Again, there was silence.
In the end Tiberius Ogden spoke, "Was there anything more that you discovered Unspeakable Croaker?"
"Not in relation to this case," he smirked.
"Madame Longbottom do you have any questions for the Unspeakable, before he is allowed to return to his work?"
"Several," she delicately rubbed a hand across her eyes feeling immensely grateful that her Grandson had not been on that list of fifty-seven names. "Would the adjusted ritual have worked? How many children's magic would she been able to have siphon at one time? What would the consequences for the children have been in this had continued for…..say…the rest of the school year? How long would the siphon remain after the ritual, as in does it fade naturally or is a subsequent ritual required for its removal? Can we tell if she has actually used the ritual already? I have more but…." She gestured helplessly.
Auror Robards stepped forward, "Madam Longbottom to ease the minds of the Wizengamot allow me to answer the last question first. As part of the interviews the Aurors conducted a brief test to detect if any of the students were magically impaired in anyway, while a couple tested positive for alertness potions and another for a minor love potion. None appeared to have their magic restricted in the way this would. In addition, we checked with the teachers and no student has had a sudden decrease in their magical ability. I apologise for interrupting, Unspeakable Croaker." He stepped back out of the way.
"To answer your questions," the Unspeakable said, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. "At least on the preliminary testing ,it appears that the adjusted ritual would work, though there is some doubt as to whether or not it would kill the children and transfer all of their magic to the recipient. The results for the children would depend on the magical strength of the child, however even a child who had moderately string magic, could be reduced to the ability of a squib." He ignored the shocked gasps. "Without performing the ritual, it is impossible to tell whether the siphon would fall off via natural attrition over time, normally it is removed by casting a simple 'Finite Incantateum'."
"Thank you. We will not keep you from your duties any longer," the Chief Warlock dismissed the Unspeakable. "Is there any further evidence?"
"No Sir," Amelia Bones responded. "Though we are unsure as to why the cursed ring was also in the trunk."
"I believe that Ash Brown and Eustace Fawley are available to give their testimony, Chief Warlock," McMillan said.
"Lord Fawley as you are the one who initially presented this issue to us shall we start with your Heir?"
"Yes, Chief Warlock."
"And do you give your permission for Eustace to take Veritaserum?"
"Yes, Chief Warlock."
The questioning of both boys went smoothly, and it was not long before they were dismissed.
"You have heard the charges, you have seen the evidence. Lords Fawley and Brown, you are recused from voting. Now we are called on to decide. Raise your wands if you believe the accused to be guilty of the charges as stated?" He paused to count the raised wands. "Wands down. Now raise your wands if you believe the accused to be innocent of the charges as stated? I declare in an unanimous result that Delores Jane Umbridge is guilty of all charges. Madame Bones, please issue a warrant for her arrest. Sentencing will occur once she has been detained. There will be a short recess of twenty minutes before the commencement of the next trial."
"Mr Graves, Mr Potter and Miss Bones if you could all stay behind?" McGonagall called at the end Transfiguration. She waited to say anything further until the rest of the students had cleared the classroom. "It has been decided that due to your continued high level of performance in all of your classes that you shall be provided with the opportunity to participate in some extension work. It will be expected that you maintain your current level of performance and complete all the tasks that are given in class pertaining to the normal curriculum first."
"How will it work Professor?" Susan asked.
"At the beginning of class, you will be given the normal class work and then when that work is completed you will be given extra work. In some cases, such as transfiguration, you will be given extra reading to be completed on your own time." She absent-mindedly tapped her hand on a small pile of books on her desk.
"What if our marks fall, or we feel like we can't do it?" Harry asked a bit tentatively.
McGonagall smiled at him, "In either of those case you will simply notify your teacher, cease the extra work and return any of the materials you have been provided with."
"Will we have time to actually learn very much before the end of the year?" Susan asked.
"Think of this as a trial. We are only offering the opportunity to a select few students in fifth year. There will be six of you in total. The other three are Blaise Zabini, Terry Boot and Padma Patil. If it is a success, we will then make plans over the summer for the other years. At this time, we do not wish you to speak of this to the other students, though we are aware that eventually they will notice. If asked, just say you are participating in a trial and are unable to speak about it. It will become more general knowledge next year, assuming it is a success." Seeing that they were happy with this explanation the professor continued, "Now for transfiguration," she paused to pick up the books and hand one to each student, "We will begin studying the theory for the Animagus transformation."
"Ah, Professor?" Percival said, holding the book towards her.
She frowned as she reached out to take it. "Are you turning this opportunity down Mr Graves?"
He smiled, "No Professor. It's just that I have already completed this study."
"Well perhaps you should review it and then we can commence the process of transforming?"
"You misunderstand Professor," Percival said politely. "I can already transform."
"But you are not registered at the Ministry!" McGonagall protested.
"No, that is because I was living with Seraphina in America when I learnt how. I am registered with the ICW."
"Well, that is impressive Mr Graves. If in the meantime you would be able to mentor, the others I would appreciate it. In class I will expect you to work on your silent and wandless casting."
"That will not be a problem Professor."
Harry had been silent in thought. When it came out how would Ron take it? Would he be jealous? Neville would be happy for him that was a given, there was not a jealous bone in his body. And Hermione? Studying was her thing, he could not help but ask, "Professor what about Hermione?"
"I may not discuss another student's results with you Mr Potter," was the stern reply.
He was not sure why he was worried about what she thought anymore anyway. It had been months since they had been close, and as much as he did not want to give up on the friendship, he was not sure that he liked the person she was becoming.
"Yes Professor. Thank you for the opportunity," Harry murmured.
McGonagall smiled at him gently, "You're welcome Mr Potter. I must say I am most pleased with the change in your attitude this year. I regret not being able to make you a prefect."
"That's alright Professor. I think Ron is better at it than I would have been anyway. He's like a big brother to the younger years."
"Well, you had best all make your way to lunch," McGonagall dismissed them.
Today was the day that the results from the audit at Grunnings would be released. The last week had not been a pleasant time for Petunia. The added stress had turned Vernon into a raging bull. Nothing could calm him. If she had the dinner on the table when he arrived home, it had cooled too much and he got angry. If dinner was not on the table then he would rage that it was late. He had started dropping in to the pub on his way home, and walked through the door, smelling of alcohol and cigarettes. He was quick to raise his fists in anger.
Petunia had been holding out hope that today would be the day their lives returned to normal. As luck would have it she took the roast out of the oven just as she heard the car pull up in the garage, there was a glass of scotch already sitting by his place at the table. The roast was carved as she heard the car door slam shut. The door rattled as he turned the handle and she placed the plates on the table.
"How was…." The thunderous look on his face silenced Petunia immediately.
Vernon ate the meal, complaining about the auditors. He was being placed on probation for six months with a warning that he could not accept personal gifts in exchange for giving out discounts, nor could he deal with any transactions for family members and finally all discounts given would need to be approved by his Senior Manager. He then moved onto complaining about the amount of traffic on the way home, the meat was too dry and finally 'those idiot cyclists'. Petunia hummed along in a conciliatory fashion.
Finally he stopped and looked at her, "What have you been doing today?"
She listed the chores she had completed, the discussions she'd had with the neighbours and her phone call to Dudley. Vernon grunted, starring at her with beady eyes.
"Did you see that man from number twelve," he asked.
"The man from number twelve?" she repeated in confusion, before continuing cautiously. "There is no man at number twelve. That's where the Jones sisters live."
He grunted, then snapped, "I've had enough with your lies! Clean up this mess. I'm going out to the pub."
Petunia could not help saying, "Shall I call a taxi for you?"
Vernon pushed his chair away from the table and stood up slowly, "Why would I need a taxi?"
"B…because, you've already had a drink dear. They say you shouldn't drive after you've had a drink," she said in a tone aimed to appease.
"You just want to use the car while I'm gone," he accused. "I'm not leaving it here so that you can whore it up over at number twelve."
Petunia did not comment on the ridiculousness of the statement. Despite the fact that the Jones' were spinster sisters, they were also over eighty, then the house was just four doors up, to get there she would not even have to cross the street. But by now Petunia had learnt to hold her tongue. There was no point arguing when he was in a mood like this one. Unfortunately, her silence did not protect her this time, Vernon raised a meaty fist and struck. Petunia fell to the floor, unconscious.
"Let that be a lesson to you. You do as your told, an' don't argue. You'll be staying here, while I go to the pub. I don't know when I'll be home." He prodded her body with his foot. "Hmm," he grunted in satisfaction, "maybe that'll make you listen."
A minute later, the wheels of his car squealed as he took off up the road.
Petunia did not regain consciousness for a full ten minutes. When she did, she could hear a knocking. It resonated with the pain in her head.
"Anyone home?" a cheery voice called.
"Coming," she called out as she tried to stand feeling dizzy and ill. In the end she had to pull herself up on the table to be able to get to her feet. Strangely there was the evidence of a half-eaten meal on the table. When had Vernon come home?
"Hello?" the voice called again.
"Coming," she called out again, managing a stronger voice this time.
She leaned against the wall in order to remain upright, knocking one of the pictures off the wall by accident it fell to the floor with a crash. Eventually she opened the door.
"Special delivery…" the young man paused taking in her dishevelled look, the large purpling bruise, the blood dripping from her nose and the nearly swollen shut eye. "Ma'am are you alright?"
Petunia swayed, blinking at the boy owlishly.
"Ma'am I think I should call you an ambulance."
"M'fine," she murmured, trying hard to focus.
He slipped an arm around her waist as she swayed, dangerously close to the point of falling, "Let me just get you back in side Ma'am." He carefully walked her up the hall, then seeing a room with a couch in it guided her over to it and sat her down. "You just sit there Ma'am."
The young man bustled off to find the phone. Petunia felt vaguely worried about what Vernon would think when he got home and there was a strange young man in the house, but a stronger wave of dizziness had her lying down with a groan.
"Ma'am. I called the ambulance, they won't be long, and I hope you don't mind but I called my boss to let me know why I'll be late. Are you alright Ma'am?"
Petunia tried to tell him that she was fine and that he should not stay, but all she managed was a pitiful groan. Her eyes were getting heavier by the moment even with the roiling of her stomach.
"Try not to go to sleep Ma'am the lady from the ambulance said to stay awake. I suppose I should tell you why I am here that might help to give you something to focus on," the poor boy babbled. "I have a registered letter for you. Don't worry it's not that fancy, it just means that you have to sign for it because it is important. I don't know if I should give it to you now, because you look like you might not remember, but I can't take it back with me. Do you think you could sign for it then, if you tell me where I can put it that it is safe, and you will find it later, then I can put it away for you?"
Petunia managed to make a noise which sounded vaguely affirmative and a pen was thrust into her hand.
"Here I'll hold my board up you just sign."
She tried her best to sign. Then pointed the boy towards the kitchen and slurred "Bag."
Fortunately, he understood, and disappeared from her line of sight. When he reappeared, he was holding her handbag out in front of him as if it were a snake poised to strike.
"My Mum says, that you should never go into a lady's handbag! But I'm not going into it, I'm just gonna slide this in. You watch and make sure."
He did so, and hastily put the bag next to her. It seemed like an hour later, but was probably only minutes, that an ambulance could be heard, making its way through the nearby streets.
"Here, they come. I'll just go wait by the door. Try and stay awake Mrs Dursley."
Sometime in the following few minutes the ambulance arrived, and they carefully lifted her onto the stretcher. The young postie made sure that the house was locked up, the keys were safely in her bag and the bag in the ambulance before he left. Petunia was unaware of any of this because she had lost her battle with unconsciousness.
It took Dudley three days to learn what had happened. The Deputy Headmaster, Mr Bode, called him out of his English lesson.
"Mr Dursley, there are a couple of gentlemen waiting to speak with you," he said. "Just make your way to the office."
"Yes Sir."
"Not to worry. You're not in trouble," Mr Bode tried to reassure Dudley as they saw the pair of bobby's waiting in the office foyer. "Good Afternoon Officers. This is Dudley Dursley."
"Constables Smith and Jones," the taller of the two introduced. "May we call you Dudley?" he asked in a strangely tight voice.
"Yeah sure."
"Is there somewhere private we could speak with Dudley?" he then asked Mr Bode.
"Certainly, use my office," he showed them the way, and closed the door behind them.
"Dudley," the younger of the two officers, spoke for the first time. "Is your mother Petunia Dursley?"
"Is she alright?" Dudley asked immediately.
"She will recover," Constable Jones confirmed.
"But that means she was hurt!"
"She was and we need to ask you a few questions."
"Can you tell me more about her first. Is she in hospital? When can I see her?"
"Perhaps we should tell you what happened first?" muttered Constable Jones. "Yesterday afternoon, the postie called at your house to deliver a registered letter to your mother. When she answered the door he noticed that she was unsteady on her feet and looked like she had been hit in the face. He called the ambulance and waited with her for them to arrive. She lost consciousness as the ambulance arrived. They then took her to the closest hospital where she was began having difficulties breathing so she was intubated and is currently on a machine to assist her. All the medical staff will tell us at this time is that they expect her to recover. I have no doubt they will tell you more as a member of her immediate family. Because some of the neighbours reported hearing raised voices in the house before your father left for the evening, he has been denied access to your mother at this time and is being held at the local police station."
Constable Smith took over, "Do you feel up to answering a few questions at this time?"
Dudley shrugged, really he would rather be arranging a visit to the hospital to check on his mother, or better yet, not to need to at all, but he knew this was important. He told them how his mother had spoken of Vernon's temper. When they asked if he had ever seen his father hit his mother before. He denied it, but the expression on his face had the policeman question further and he revealed how his father had beaten Harry. How Harry had been forced to live in the cupboard under the stairs, been given little to eat and been forced to do all of the household chores. The officers thanked him and allowed him to leave, giving him a card. So that he could call them if he remembered anything else.
Mr Bode arranged to take him straight to the hospital that day after school and even stayed with him for the walk through the rabbit warren like halls. It was horrible. Petunia was lying on a bed, covered in a crisp white sheet. There was a bag of yellow fluid hanging off one side of the bed connected to a tube that slipped under the sheet. A clear line was attached to the back of her hand, the nurse said it was providing her with fluid. There was another larger tube that went into her mouth…..Dudley felt dizzy.
"It takes some people like that dear," the nurse said kindly. "You just sit on this side, where you can't see all the bits and pieces."
"What's wrong with her?" Dudley asked as he collapsed into the chair.
"Her cheek is broken, there are some cracks in her orbital fossa…oh sorry luv that's the bones around the eye and she has some swelling around her brain. The breaks will heal up well enough. It's the swelling that she is in with us for."
"Is she brea…."
"Yes mostly by herself. The hit caused some swelling, but the brain is enclosed by the skull which limits the space. So unlike if you sprained your ankle where the skin stretches to accommodate the fluid an it swells up, there is nowhere for that fluid to go and the pressure in the cranial cavity increases….… sorry that's in the skull. That squashes the brain. If it doesn't get too bad then the fluid will be reabsorbed or will drain into the spinal fluid."
"What happens if it is bad?" Dudley asked quietly.
"Well, if that happens, we cut a small hole in her skull…"
Dudley went green, and the nurse hurriedly provided him with a bag to vomit in.
"How about we just say, that there are medical procedures to help?" she patted him on should reassuringly.
"Yeah, that sounds ok. I'm sorry," he gestured to the bag he still held.
"Oh that's alright dear. If you're right to stand, just go throw it in that bin over there, the yellow one. I'll get you a glass of water."
"Thank you. I have some mints. Is there somewhere outside I can go and sit for a moment?"
"Sure luv, there is a balcony right outside." She gestured to the doors.
"Thanks." Dudley wandered out onto the balcony and sat for a moment looking out onto the gardens. What was he going to do now? Dudley knew…had always known, that he was not the brightest. Sure he could get by if he worked hard but a genius he was not. Maybe Harry would know what to do? Mr Bode had made Dudley bring his knapsack, with a few snacks and a bottle of water, saying that the food at the hospital cafeteria was not what his coach would want him eating. He was glad for it now and grabbed the bottle so he could rinse his mouth of the acidic taste. Digging around in his bag he pulled out a notebook and a pen. Hopefully an owl would be able to find him here.
As Dudley finished writing there was a hoot from over to his left and there sitting on railing was a snowy owl. "Hedwig?"
She cooed at him.
"Would you take this to Harry? Mum's been hurt and…well if it was Dad that did it, then she won't be able to go back there will she?"
Hedwig, hopped closer, then fluttered up onto his shoulder and cooed again.
"Thanks." He passed her the letter.
"Come in and say goodbye to your mum Dudley, we had better get you back to campus," Mr Bode said, pushing open the glass doors that lead onto the balcony.
"Ok Sir. Um…thanks for bringing me."
"It's no problem. The first visit can be a bit shocking. We'll see if we can't get you back here tomorrow."
"I'd appreciate that," Dudley said as they made their way back inside.
Hedwig swooped through the window into the fifth-year Gryffindor boy's dormitory. Sure that her boy's would know what to do. Spiralling between the beds she landed on her stand and hooted loudly.
"'Arry, shut yer bird up would yeh?" Seamus threw a pillow at the sleeping brunette.
"Wha'?" a drowsy Harry stirred. Hedwig hooted again. "Hey Hedwig, where have you been."
She ruffled her feathers and dropped a folded piece of paper onto her boy's chest.
"Thanks," Harry grumbled, which Hedwig thought was particularly uncalled for so she swatted him around the head with her wing. "Hedwig, not you too?"
"Shut it, Harry!" Dean complained, throwing another pillow in Harry's direction. Ron continued snoring.
"Right, sorry," Harry whispered, and drew the curtains around his bed. Casting a quick Muffliato, before unfolding the paper.
Harry,
I'm writing to ask you for help. I'm not sure if Mum's told you but Dad's been acting a bit crazy. Drinking lots, arguing that sort of thing. Well the police came to school! Harry I've never been so terrified in my life. They came to tell me that someone had belted Mum. She's in hospital, with broken bones on her face and there's something wrong with her head. To be honest I didn't take it all in. There were tubes coming out of her everywhere. I know you can't get away from school but she's in St Peters.
Harry, I don't know what to do! I had told her that she needed to have Dad talk to a counsellor (they really helped me) but he got angry at her when she suggested it. I tried to convince her to leave him but she wouldn't. She kept saying how she had no income and no skills anymore.
I don't even know what I'm asking Harry, just please, help her.
Dudley.
Harry scrambled around, finally locating the mirror in the dark.
"Sirius," he said. "Please Sirius come to the mirror!"
"Hey Pup," the Lord Black, looked wide awake.
"Haven't you gone to bed yet?" Harry asked.
"Remus and I got caught up reminiscing. He found some old photos. We'll show them to you when you come home tomorrow. What about you, you should be asleep."
"Hedwig came in late, carrying a letter from Dudley," Harry explained hurriedly. "Uncle Vernon has hurt Aunt Petunia. Dudley doesn't know what to do. Is there something we can do?"
"Do you think Dudley would recognise me? I would send Remus, he's better at things in the Muggle world, but he's not fully healed."
"I don't know. What about Seraphina?"
"She's really busy at the moment. In fact I think she is currently in Spain attending the ICW meeting. How about Severus…." Sirius blushed slightly at the slip.
"Professor Snape isn't going to have time to leave the school and head out to Surrey to check on Aunt Petunia, Padfoot."
"All right, I'll call Addison and see if he is free to come with me. I believe he has a bit of an interest in Muggle medicine."
"What about Samuel McMillan?"
"Do you think it is that bad? It wasn't just an accident?"
Harry shook his head. "In her letters, Aunt Petunia said that he has been really angry and the last one I got from her said that he had found one of my letters. He lit it on fire and threw the burning paper at her."
"Right, I'll add McMillan to the list. Though he might recommend someone else, family law isn't really a thing for wizards but he might know someone on the muggle side. I'll explain it to you another time, when you don't have to get up for classes. Oh, which hospital is she at?"
"St Peters in Surrey. Will you still be there to pick us up?"
"Yeah. I'll try and get this done in the morning. Right kiddo, off to sleep," Sirius paused looking at Harry's face. "What is it Pup?"
"I feel…I don't know. But it isn't nice and I feel guilty for feeling it too."
"What do you feel?"
"I feel like almost happy but not that maybe she'll know how I felt for all those years, when I was thrown in the cupboard with a bruised face or arm or leg. Not that I want her to be hurt and in hospital. I'm a bad person," he whispered.
"No Pup, no your not. I think it is perfectly understandable. I know you were getting on better with her this summer….."
"Only after Perce came."
Sirius nodded, "After Percival came, but you still had fourteen years of them treating you badly, and it must feel like they got off scott free. Wanting them to know how you felt and understand what you went through, is not a bad thing. If it was I would be a horrible person too. I felt glad when I got back to this house and found out mother had died." Seeing that Harry was about to protest he continued on, "It's not like you want to hurt her, or even for her to be hurt. If you are worried about it I can bring it up with Addison and maybe you can talk to him about it?"
"Yeah. I think that would make me feel better."
"Good, now do you meditation and try and get some sleep. Goodnight Pup."
"Night Dad."