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Harry Potter Squib Tales Chapter 55: Justice at Last
🕑 Added 2024-10-30 16:02:01 +0000 UTCChapter 55: Justice at Last
Magic in the Potter-verse was the definition of ‘soft magic.’ It could not solve all problems, such as creating food from nothing, but there were few things a clever application of spellcraft couldn’t find a workaround for.
Take the issue of space. Expansion charms meant there was always enough room. My junkyards were expanded and could hold much more trash that way. And spells to remove the inevitable stink made my newest venture less of a burden. The people who worked in the garbage business certainly agreed.
Now, if you couldn’t cast spells, no worry! There was always a workaround. Runes, arithmancy, potions, and alchemy could allow non-magicals to remove a lot of issues faced by even a modern society. Of course, without magic, most of these options weren’t really worth it. They were just ordinary scribbles, math, and chemistry otherwise.
Which was why I had been so focused on finding a way to get access to magical energy without having to rely on Squib blood sacrifices.
“Damn it, another failure,” I groaned, rubbing my forehead as I stared down at the mess on his workbench.
What I had been working on was an attempt to turn electricity into magical energy. It was, in theory, possible. Nicholas Flamel’s journal had contained notes on a ritual that siphoned and dispersed the energy of a volcano, preventing its eruption. The energy was converted into magic and scattered across the landscape. It was invented by Polynesian shamans who used it to stop volcanic islands from erupting.
The secrets for it had nearly been lost with the European colonization efforts of 17th century, and had only survived because it was passed down orally in a family of Hawaiian shamans who had then taught it to a Chinese wizard who’d visited the Hawaiian islands in the late 19th century. Nicholas Flamel had gotten his hands on this ritual in exchange for helping the Chinese wizard’s family, who were Muggles, escape the Communist Purges of the mid-20th century.
What I was trying to do was take this ritual and alter it via runes and arithmancy to make it turn a different source of energy – in this case electricity – into magic.
Unfortunately, the ritual apparatus I had made to attempt this was now a ruined mess. Gold, silver, diamonds, and some expensive magical reagents, all gone. Most of the materials could be easily replaced thanks to my recycling business, and the magical ones weren’t too tricky to find thanks to my improved relationship with Cyrus Greengrass.
But it was annoying. This was the fifth time this month it had failed, and I was no closer to figuring out what the problem was.
‘What went wrong this time?’ I wondered, going over my notes as well as the ones in Nicholas’ journal. ‘Ah, here we go, the problem started with the transfer of energy itself. Gold and silver aren’t strong enough to handle the heat that ends up being generated. Goblin silver or Orichalcum might be able to handle the sheer amount of power that is going to be flowing through the converter.’
I ran a hand over my head. Goblin silver was out of the question, as the goblins guarded it fiercely. And trying to melt it down would just ruin the mystical properties. It would have to be custom-made. Something that no goblin would willingly do.
“Orichalcum it is, then,” I muttered. The yellow metal was a well-known conductor of magic, used in many different enchanted objects. It could also only be created with magic. I hadn’t yet tried to create Orichalcum with alchemy, but I suppose there was no better time than now.
“Knock-knock,” a teasing voice called out as somebody entered my workshop, and I looked up, a smile creeping onto my face.
“Hey, Delilah,” I greeted my girlfriend. “What’s up?”
“Not much, just wanted to swing on by, say hello,” she replied.
“Aww, so sweet,” I chuckled, shooting her a grin. She walked over and laid her chin atop my head.
“I am,” she said. She then looked down at the ruined mess on the table. “Another failure, huh?”
“Yeah, but I’m close to figuring it out! I’m sure of it!” I declared.
“You’re going to burn yourself out like this,” Delilah fretted, running a hand through my hair. I huffed but let her do it. It felt nice.
“You need a secretary,” she eventually said.
“I have one,” I told her, and she shook her head.
“You need a magical secretary,” she elaborated. “Somebody who knows magic and the magical world. Or maybe a lab assistant? Having somebody to bounce ideas off of and help with your experiments could be helpful as well.”
“You might be right,” I hummed. An extra pair of hands would be useful.
“Now, how about focusing on another ritual as well? Take your mind off this one?” Delilah inquired. “What about the Muggle-to-Mage one, instead?”
I hummed at that. “That’s not a bad idea. We wouldn’t be able to use magic directly, but we’d be able to channel a bit more magic through our runes and potions and such.”
“And we do need to test it,” she pointed out. “See if it actually works.”
“That’s true,” I grunted.
“I think we should do it,” Delilah said, and after a moment, I nodded in agreement.
“Alright, then,” I said. “We will perform the ritual this summer, on the Solstice.”
“Let me know what you need for it,” Delilah requested. “I can help with gathering the materials.”
“Yeah, good idea, and I’ll see if Sam wants to go through the ritual with us. See if it works the same on Muggles and Squibs,” I decided.
“Yes, we’ll need to conduct some baseline tests,” Delilah said, sounding excited at the prospect.
“You seem excited,” I noted with a chuckle.
“I mean, yeah? It is magic! Even if I won’t be able to cast any spells myself, it’ll still be great to have more magical energy for stuff like potions and what-not,” she replied.
I couldn’t argue with that. The only people who knew about the Flamels’ ritual and ultimate goals of spreading magic to all humans were Delilah and Sam. I’d told them about it after the passing of the Flamels last year. They had immediately agreed that it was a worthy goal and were fully onboard the hype-train.
“So, how did it go with the Lovegoods?” Delilah asked, changing the topic. She’d loved Sirius’ idea to take control of Magical Britain’s media when I’d told her about it, and had urged me to follow through with my purchase of the Quibbler.
“They were surprisingly agreeable to it,” I said, still a bit surprised by it. Xenophilius and Pandora had thought my idea to buy part of the Quibbler had been a joke at first, but when they realized I was serious, had happily sold me 25% ownership of the paper for a mere thousand galleons.
After the purchase, I’d spoken with them about switching a few things up, like adding different kinds of articles and ads that were less ‘crazy conspiracies’ and more about magical research and discoveries, as well as trying to sell it overseas. The Quibbler was likely always going to be seen as a sort of fringe tabloid thing, but adding more riddles and puzzles as well as cartoons – magical ones, with moving, animated drawings – would make it more appealing to children. Aiming for the youth market would hopefully bring in more customers.
The biggest change, though, was the addition of a ‘Dear Jane’ style advice column for the parents of Muggleborn and Half-bloods. How to handle and help with accidental magic, explanations about what the magical world was like, and more along those lines. It would create an outlet for a community that was far too often sidelined and ignored.
“I’ll have to purchase a subscription,” Delilah mused. “And I think the Finch-Fletchleys might be interested in it as well.”
“How have they been, by the way?” I inquired. I hadn’t had much time to speak with them recently, and I felt bad about it.
“Josephine and Earl are well. I think you’ll be getting an invite to a garden party, soon, once the weather turns warmer,” Delilah said. “Likely around Easter, if they do what they did last year again.”
“That sounds fun,” I smiled.
“Doesn’t it?” Delilah grinned. “Of course, if you’re going to be invited, you’ll need a proper suit.”
“I have, like, three,” I pointed out.
“Rookie numbers,” she scoffed. “Come on, let’s go shopping! You need an update to your wardrobe. Hmm, some new cufflinks, belt, and shoes wouldn’t go amiss, either.”
I bobbed my head, giving in to the inevitable, and let her drag me out of my workshop to go shopping.
“I need clothes that will be able to be modified with Runeweaving,” I reminded Delilah as we drove to Harrods.
“Of course. Speaking of which, I want to get some more of that stuff myself,” she informed me, which I completely agreed with.
Runes woven into the lining of clothing were a great way to protect yourself. I’d have died if not for the runes in my suit when I’d first met Delilah. And I’d gone on to improve what I could do with them since then.
Plus, the biggest change was that I now had an actual seamstress to handle the Runeweaving instead of doing it myself. She was a young dwarven woman from Germany who had been scouted by Mike. She had been in Britain around Valentine’s, apparently one of the ones who’d been hired by Lockhart, and had been eager to actually do a real job, regardless of how it skirted the edge of legality.
Dwarves were master craftsmen, and they always excelled at whatever craft they chose to pursue. Hildegarde, as was her name, rarely had a chance to practice her skills, and was overjoyed to have the opportunity to be paid to do so.
Delilah for her part was delighted to have a fellow woman to talk to about magical stuff, especially one who was closer in age to her than Mrs. Finch-Fletchley or any of the other moms of Hogwarts students. The two of them spent a lot of time together, chatting about this and that.
I hoped that Delilah would be able to convince Hildegarde to introduce us to more of her family and fellow dwarves in the future, but I wasn’t going to rush it. Slow and steady was the best way to handle something this sensitive.
Hildegarde wasn’t the only non-human I’d hired. Lupin had brought on three more werewolves and two vampires to act as part of Crucible Security. They latter two had already proved their worth by capturing a person trying to sneak in and sabotage the potion vats during the dead of night.
From the ‘interrogation’ they conducted, the vampires discovered the man had been hired by a certain ‘Hugo Farton.’ Aside from a truly unfortunately last name, Hugo was a man who worked for Sir Briar, Mr. Hunt’s business partner and rival, as well as the other man aside from Delilah’s father I had approached for investments.
I now knew who it was that had been trying to target me and Delilah all this time. One of my own investors and partial owner of Cauldron Remedies. I’d expected as much, honestly. He was an old and bitter man who couldn’t stand to see a youngster like myself rise any higher than I already had. That I was dating the daughter of his biggest rival didn’t help, either.
I’d need to find a way to deal with him. Not much I could do, really. Not yet, at least, unless I was willing to dip into my repertoire of magic. But I balked at the idea of mind controlling him or threatening his life via magical means. Blackmail would do just fine for now. I could gather evidence of his wrong doings with a bit of magical support, and it was a lot less morally questionable than outright brainwashing or assassination.
‘And I also need to desperately find a new name to refer to my new workers. ‘Non-human’ is obviously too negative and derogatory, same with ‘Magical Beast,’ which is what the witches and wizards call them, regardless of intelligence,’ I thought to myself as I pulled into the valet parking lot and tossed my keys to one of the workers there.
We then went inside and headed up to one We probably wouldn’t buy the actual suit here, as I had my own tailor now, but looking at what was ‘in season’ was a good way to get inspired for what I might eventually want.
“Hmm, what do you think about this style?” Delilah mused as she picked up the sleeve of a suit.
“Looks nice,” I hummed. “You sure it wouldn’t standout too much?”
“No, no, Shawl Lapels are coming into popularity right now,” she assured me.
There were always subtle changes to fashion, even for something as straightforward and bland as a suit and tie, and without Delilah’s help I’d be utterly lost, swept aside by the waves of fashion.
“Hmm, alright, if you insist,” I replied.
A soft beeping grabbed my attention half an hour later into the shopping trip, and I fished my work pager out of a pocket with an annoyed expression on my face that quickly morphed into a confused frowned.
“Is everything alright?” Delilah asked, worried, as I looked at the message I’d received my pager. Since cellphones weren’t very good yet, a pager was the next best thing, though it required some creative use to send information through.
“It’s Remus. He say it’s important,” I replied. He’d given the numeric codes for ‘Magic,’ ‘Meeting,’ and ‘Urgent.’
“Perhaps his date with Miss Bones went well?” Delilah wondered.
“One can only hope,” I muttered. I then sent Delilah an apologetic look. “Sorry to cut this short.”
“It’s fine,” she assured me, grabbing my arm. “Come on, let’s go see what Mr. Lupin wants.”
“I better grab Sirius as well,” I mused. “If this is about what I hope it is, then we might just be able to get rid of our little rat problem at long last.”
111 &&& 111
Remus POV
Keeping his gaze firmly on the door to the café and not looking at anyone who was watching him. He was back at the Rosewood again, for another meeting with Madam Bones. This would be the fourth time he was doing so.
After his first meet up with the woman who ran the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she had requested his presence twice more before this to discuss Sirius Black. Namely, questioning him about his time at Hogwarts the first time, and the second time was about his actions during the war.
Madam Bones had known about the Order of the Phoenix, it wasn’t exactly a secret that a group of vigilantes had been going around fighting the Death Eaters, but she had been shocked and then furious to learn it had been sponsored by Dumbledore. Which, in hindsight, was rather obviously. Who else but a man with a phoenix would name their less than secret society after the fiery bird?
‘I wonder what she wants to discuss today?’ Remus wondered. She hadn’t said anything about Sirius Black’s trial transcripts, nor had he dared asked about them, but he was getting nervous, and so was Sirius. The man wanted proper freedom, and he was starting to get annoyed at having to dye his hair blond all the time.
He perked up when he saw Madam Bones enter the café, and like a proper gentleman he stood up and got her chair for her. He ignored the way several woman who were watching giggled and gushed over his chivalry.
“You smell nice, today,” Remus said as he sat down across from her, before wincing a bit at how that might come across. Thankfully, Madam Bones simply nodded her head, accepting the compliment.
“You mentioned that the previous brand of perfume I used was too overwhelming,” she said, and Remus blinked, surprised she’d remembered that. It had been an idle comment.
“It suits you,” the werewolf said, and the director gave a small smile, which immediately floored him. In fact, he was so stunned he also missed what she was saying.
“…and after raking a few slakers over the coals, I’ve finally finished my investigations,” Madam Bones said, taking a sip of some tea as she finished.
“And? What did Sirius say? Why did he betray James and Lily?” Remus asked, already knowing the answer. Before she told him, Madam Bones cast a Muffling charm around their table with a flick of her wand. She then cast a few more spells, one of which Remus recognized as the Lip Blurring charm, and a pair of obscure anti-eavesdropping charms that he didn’t know the name of, but prevented scrying and post-cognition respectively. Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix had made use of them a lot back in the war.
“This is not to be spread around,” she warned Remus sharply. When he nodded, she reported what she’d discovered. “It seems that Mr. Black never had a trial.”
“What?” Remus uttered, and he was able to channel some of his very real anger into his voice.
“There is no paperwork aside from an Auror arrest form, and the transfer documents to Azkaban,” Madam Bones told him. “He was illegally sent to Azkaban, and had been there for over a decade without anyone being the wiser.”
“Damn it,” Remus growled.
“Now that I’ve told you this, I have something I also wish to know,” Madam Bones stated.
“What is it?” Remus inquired, feeling nervous all of a sudden. He’d always had a keener sense of danger than other wizards, something he attributed to his inner wolf. And right now, it had its metaphorical hackles raised from her tone of voice.
“You are in contact with Sirius Black,” Madam Bones said. It was a statement of fact, not a question, and Remus gave a brisk bob of his head, even as he tensed up.
“What gave it away?” he asked.
“A few things. You were too eager to help. Too… invested. I thought it was unusual. In truth, though, I was already skeptical of your motives.”
“Please forgive me, but Sirius was like a brother to me,” Remus said. “When he came to me and revealed the truth, I was skeptical, but at the same time, I wanted to trust him. I reached out to you through Harry because of that.”
“I am not pleased that you lied to me,” Madam Bones said, tapping a finger against the edge of her teacup. “But I can understand why. A miscarriage of justice has occurred, and would have gone completely unknown had you not approached me with the hopes of helping your friend.”
“What now?” Remus asked.
“I’m not going to arrest you. For one, I have no proof that you’ve been harboring a fugitive, and your tip about how Black escaped was very helpful in tightening up some defenses that had been left untouched for too long,” Madam Bones replied after taking a sip of tea.
“That’s a relief,” Remus sighed softly.
“Sadly, without definitive proof, Sirius Black will have to turn himself in if he wants the charges dropped. But since Minister Fudge plans on introducing a Kiss On Sight order for the Dementors, if he tries to surrender to the aurors he will likely be Kissed before he can reach a holding cell.”
“He’s releasing those monsters to hunt Sirius down?” Remus asked, aghast.
“Yes. My advice and warnings have all been ignored, and the Dementors will be allowed to venture onto the mainland in a few days, once he presents it to the Wizengamot for approval,” the Director of Magical Law Enforcement revealed.
“Damn it,” Remus grunted, before a thought hit him. “What if we did have proof, though? What if we could find a way to get Sirius Black his day in court and have Minister Fudge rescind that idiotic order?”
“That would be the best outcome,” Madam Bones said. “But how?”
“Peter Pettigrew is alive,” Remus revealed. “He has been hiding in his animagus form for all these years. A common, ordinary rat.”
“You’re absolutely certain?” she demanded, leaning in, an intensity in her eyes that Remus couldn’t help but find surprisingly alluring.
He swallowed down his libido and nodded. “The nose knows,” he said with a wink, tapping the side of his sniffer. “He’s in a cage, drugged with Draught of Living Death.”
“If you can bring him to me, I can get him a trial,” Madam Bones said.
“Can you get the media involved as well? I don’t want this getting swept under the rug.”
“I know one or two journalists who owe me favors,” she replied. “If you bring Peter Pettigrew to me by tomorrow, I can have the paperwork for the trial pushed through before Fudge announces his ‘brilliant plan’ at the next Wizengamot meeting.”
“Just be careful,” Remus warned. “Dumbledore knew that Sirius was not the Secret Keeper. He was the one who cast the Fidelius over the house.”
That caused Madam Bones’ eyes to widen. The reveal of this was already primed to send shockwaves through Wizarding Britain, but having Dumbledore implicated in a whole host of very series crimes, including but not limited to willingly allowing a member of a Noble House to be unjustly incarcerated was going to shatter a lot of power and trust in the Light Faction.
“I will ensure he does not have an inkling of the identity of the man who will be going on trial in the upcoming days,” she vowed.
“In that case, I will bring you Pettigrew as soon as possible. Where do you want me to deliver it, Madam Bones?”
“Bring it by the Ossuary in the evening, after work,” she replied. “I will be there, waiting for the delivery. And after four ‘dates,’ I think you can call me ‘Amelia.’”
Remus agreed, although he knew that people would no doubt come up with all sorts of wrong ideas about why he’d be visiting the Bones family manor at that time of day.
‘Sirius is going to relentlessly make jokes about this, isn’t he?’ the werewolf thought to himself. ‘He must never find out!’
Of course, that was likely going to be impossible in the long run, but damn it if he wasn’t going to try!
That evening, as promised, Remus drove up to the large, and rather imposing, Bones mansion. It had been built in the Gothic style and resembled a cathedral more than a home, and was morbidly decorated with the bones of both people and animals. Genuine ones, too, if the rumors were true. And they probably were, as the House of Bones had been rather infamous for being necromancers back in the oldest days. Incredible healers and the founders of St. Mungos Hospital, but necromancers all the same.
As he admired the structure, Remus was reminded of the fact that most Pureblood manors, or at least for the nobility, were Unplottable. That particular charm made it impossible to find a place without being invited. It also prevented the location from being recorded on a map or written down. It was not as powerful as a Fidelius, but it was certainly as close as one could get. Add in some Muggle Repelling and general privacy wards, and you could spend days looking but never finding the place, even if you knew generally where it was.
Since he had not spent a few hours aimlessly wandering or driving in circles, Amelia Bones’ invitation to the Ossuary had worked to allow him through the wards, and he got out of the car, making sure to grab a cage covered with a black cloth with him.
‘This is it, Remus,’ he thought to himself. ‘Don’t be nervous. This is just the last chance Sirius has to be exonerated. And Amelia won’t betray us. She gave her word.’
He was glad Sirius and Edward had agreed that the risk of taking Peter to the meeting was worth it if it meant getting her on their side.
He approached the front door and knocked on it, which opened a moment later, a House Elf greeting him in the entrance.
“Mistress Bonesie is waiting for youse in the Study. Leapy will take youse to her,” the rag-wearing servant said, bowing before escorting the werewolf through the halls.
The interior was just as grand and imposing as the exterior, though slightly cozier and inviting as there was no macabre décor on display. Something he was relieved to notice.
Remus was ushered into a finely furnished room. The Study, as the House Elf had called it, was a larger, circular room built into one of the towers he had seen outside. There was no fireplace, and thus no chance of it being used as a Floo entrance, but there were a lot of books, entire walls covered in them. A few stuffed armchairs sat facing each other in a circle with a coffee table in the middle.
The woman he had come to meet with was sitting in one of them, and impatiently waved Remus over.
“Coffee, please, Leapy. Remus, how do you like yours?” she asked.
“Black, two spoons of sugar,” he replied, and she nodded. The House Elf snapped his fingers and a cezve, like the kind used to make Turkish coffee, appeared alongside two empty mugs, a pitcher of mug, and a pot full of white sugar.
She mixed herself a drink that was half milk and no sugar, and waited until Remus had served himself before looking at the covered cage.
“Is that him?” she inquired curiously, and the werewolf nodded. Feeling a bit theatric, Remus placed the cage down onto the coffee table then whipped the cloth off, giving a tiny bow as he did so.
Amelia Bones snorted at his antics but said nothing about them, instead peering closely at the plain brown rat in the enchanted cage.
“A missing front toe, just like the only piece of Pettigrew that was found after the explosion,” she muttered suspiciously. She adjusted her monocle. “And there is definitely an aura of Transfiguration magic about the rat, though given the way the cage is enchanted, I cannot be entirely sure that they aren’t the same.”
“You may take Peter out of the cage to inspect him, as he is currently asleep and will stay that way without the antidote, though I request that you leave him inside of it if you are going to turn him back into a human,” Remus said.
She nodded and raised her wand, first levitating the cage over onto the floor, then shooting the tiny little critter with a spell to force an animagus back into their original form. Her expression tightened as a plump little man in dull brown clothes with mousy features appeared where the rat had been, the cage expanding to accommodate him.
“Well, now,” Amelia uttered, voice dripping with contempt at the sight. “Isn’t that interesting?”
“My thoughts exactly,” Remus agreed.
She waved her wand once more, surprising Remus as Peter shrunk back into a rat. That hadn’t been a Transfiguration spell! He looked at her, and the Ministry official smirked.
“There are spells that can force a person into their animagus form,” she stated. “Sometimes it’s easier to transport a beast than a man.”
“I never knew that,” Remus admitted.
“I’m not surprised, it is a rather obscure bit of magic,” Amelia claimed, though she looked pleased to have been able to show off to her guest. “It only works on somebody who has already unlocked their animagus form, and can be broken out of if the animagus in question simply turns back a second time, but it can disorient and confuse them for a moment or two, so it has its uses.”
“Then, with this rat as proof, does this mean…?” Remus asked leadingly.
“Yes, Peter Pettigrew will have his day in court, and Sirius Black will be cleared of all charges,” the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement declared grandly.
Remus grinned. “Thank you so much for your help, Madam… I mean, Amelia,” he replied, truly grateful for her help.
“Have you eaten yet?” she asked, out of the blue, and he blinked but shook his head.
“Wonderful, you can join me,” the head of House Bones said. “Do you like duck?”
Remus nodded his head slowly. A candle lit private dinner with a strong and beautiful woman? ‘Sirius must never find out!’ he thought, even as he stood up and followed her into the dining room.
Peter’s trial could wait. This was more important!
111 &&& 111
Cyrus Greengrass POV
A number of things had crossed through Cyrus’ head when his best and most curious customer, Erroneous Hunch Jr. – or as he preferred to be called, Edward Rose – had suggested he not miss the next Wizengamot meeting. Oh, and would he also inform a few reporters in the Daily Prophet to be there as well? Preferably ones who would publish what he wanted them to.
It was an odd request. What was so important about a routine session? Nothing on the docket seemed out of the ordinary. There was an announcement from the minister at the end of it, something his informants claimed had to do with Sirius Black. Was that it? Cyrus knew Edward Rose was connected to Harry Potter in some way. Yet that didn’t seem quite right.
Perhaps it was because of Madam Bones? She had squeezed something in at the last minute a few days ago, putting it at the very beginning, while everyone was fresh and bright-eyed, and not barely awake after hours of political discussions. But whatever it was, she was keeping it close to her chest. Strange, but it was her right as a Department Head.
As Cyrus sat down into his seat within the Wizengamot chambers, he cast a surreptitious glance around the room. Lucius Malfoy looked as smug as ever, surrounded by his sycophants. He was trying to push a tax reform that would target the import and export of certain potion ingredients. That was a direct attack on the Greengrass businesses, and Cyrus had been expecting it. Not that it made it any easier to swallow. If it passed, then it would badly impact his finances. And while it likely wouldn’t pass, as Dumbledore’s faction would oppose it, the margin of error was far too narrow for his liking.
‘And speaking of the man, what is he up to?’ Cyrus wondered, looking at Dumbledore next. The man was in his robes as Chief of the Wizengamot, sitting in the box that was next to and slightly lower than the stand where the Minister of Magic would be.
Him and his Light Faction weren’t pushing back hard enough against Malfoy and the Dark Faction’s isolationist policies, and often even sided with them on some of the more minor stuff. It was frustrating, but Cyrus knew he could do nothing about it. Not unless he threw his lot in with the man, and he would only do that as a last resort.
‘Though Dumbledore may try and force my hand depending on how Malfoy’s proposal goes,’ Cyrus thought bitterly, before glancing at different section of the chamber.
There, a few reporters sat in the public stands. The only ones who were there, honestly. While the Wizengamot was technically a ‘public affair,’ the fact was anybody without a seat on it was strongly discouraged from attending.
‘Still, there’s more of them than usual,’ he mused. A couple of them were from the Daily Prophet, obviously, but to his surprise the Quibbler and Witch Weekly had sent people as well, which was odd. Neither paper really focused on politics. Well, outside of conspiracies and gossip, at least.
Eventually, everyone had entered and taken their seats, and a dreadful pink toad of a woman stepped up to a stand and made an obnoxious “Hem, hem!” to get everyone’s attention before calling the session to order.
There were few things that spoke to the endless corruption and bureaucratic mess that was the current Ministry than that dreadful woman’s title. What even was a ‘Senior Undersecretary?’ What did they even do?
As far as Cyrus could tell, it was a pointless position, sadly one of many filled by the Minister’s stooges and sycophants, and should have had little to no actual power, but somehow it allowed the pink toad to submit legislation proposals as if the Minister himself had rubberstamped them, as well as let her decide what paperwork crossed the Minister’s desk and who was allowed to make appointments with him.
A regular secretary could fill that role perfectly fine and would have far less authority or make fewer messes. But no, there just had to be a ‘senior’ position for a job that likely shouldn’t exist. ‘Senior Undersecretary!’ What a joke!
In the end, Dolores Umbridge stepped back and let Cornelius Fudge step up to the stand. “First item for today’s Wizengamot Session, taking place on Wednesday, March 31st, 1993… Director Bones and… this can’t be right…”
Minister Fudge squinted in disbelief at the paper in front of him before nervously clearing his throat. “Erm, Director Bones and the trial of Peter Pettigrew?”
The chamber fell deathly silent, only for whispers to immediately break out. Cyrus raised an eyebrow.
‘Alright, didn’t expect that,’ he thought to himself as the formidable Madam Bones strode forward to the front of the chamber, a cage covered with a black cloth in her hands.
She waved her wand, summoning the Throne of Judgement, a rather pompous name for a wooden chair that had enchanted chains attached to it that would bind whomever sat in it and prevented any form of escape. Apparition, Port Keys, even self-transfiguration and the like was prevented. It also negated any compulsions, illusions, or enchantments that had been placed on the person in question. Rumor had it the chair could even seal away a person’s magic and dampen Occlumency shields while negating the Imperius Curse, though Cyrus was unsure of the validity of those claims.
Without pausing, Amelia Bones removed the cloth, revealing a rat in a cage. She then placed the cage on the ground, and cast a spell.
“Bestia homini!” she uttered, casting the Animagus Reversal spell, and before everyone’s stunned eyes the rat turned into a dumpy little man who was fast asleep, the cage expanding to accommodate his bulk.
Then, Madam Bones unlocked the cage and floated the person out, letting the Throne of Judgement bind him head to toe. She finally took out two bottles and poured the contents of one of them into the prisoner’s mouth, causing them to jerk awake and look around in dawning horror.
The expression was mimicked on many a person’s face, along with disbelief and fascination, the latter being worn by the reporters who looked like Christmas had come early for them. Curiously, at least to the head of House Greengrass, was that Albus Dumbledore’s face had gone pale for a moment before he schooled his expression.
“Peter Pettigrew, you stand accused of betraying the Potters to You-Know-Who on October 31st, 1881,” Amelia Bones announced, causing the murmurs to grow even louder. “How do you plead?”
“I-innocent!” he squeaked. “I’m innocent!”
“So noted,” she drawled. “Now, let us begin the trial. We shall immediately administer Veritaserum…”
“Objection!” toad bi- that is to say, Dolores Umbridge, shouted out, face puffed up in indignation. “Administering Truth Potion to a recipient of any class of an Order of Merlin must be voted on by the Wizengamot!”
“And said award was given out posthumously. But seeing as the man in question is currently alive and well, then that makes the Order of Merlin null and void,” Director Bones drawled out, given a condescending look at the toad woman. She then turned away and poured the contents of the second vial down the man’s throat, the chains opening Pettigrew’s mouth and forcing him to swallow.
“First question: What is your name?” Bones demanded.
“P-Peter Pettigrew,” the bound man gurgled out.
“Was Sirius Black the Potter’s Secret Keeper, and if not, who was it?” she asked, and the Wizengamot erupted in a roar when Pettigrew replied, “No. I was.”
The questioning continued for an hour, revealing a lot of skeletons and dirty laundry for quite a few people in the Wizengamot. Director Bones had to call in the Aurors to silence all the shouting that was going on, as well as arrest two members of the Dark Faction who’d tried to stop the rat animagus from spilling incriminating secrets regarding who he’d known were marked Death Eaters and not ‘innocent souls who’d been wrongfully accused due to the Imperius Curse.’
Perhaps most damning, though, was the revelation that Albus Dumbledore, champion of the Light, had known that Sirius Black was not the Potter’s Secret Keeper and had been the one to cast the Fidelius on Peter Pettigrew, meaning he knew the entire time that Black was innocent, and had said nothing when a scion of a Noble House was sent to Azkaban without a trial!
‘Well, this is certainly going to shake things up,’ Cyrus noted, barely able to hold back a grin as he watched both the Light and Dark Factions crumble before his very eyes.
The Light was doomed because Dumbledore had knowingly decided to ignore very important rules and protocols regarding nobility, and anyone associated with him was tainted by proximity. And the Dark was going to sink because Sirius Black was innocent, and that meant the Malfoy’s, who had been controlling the Black fortune via proxy due to all members save Narcissa Malfoy nee Black being dead, jailed or disowned, just lost all financial authority.
‘And without the absurd wealth of House Black, Lucius Malfoy won’t be able to continue bribing as many Ministry officials or Wizengamot members as he used to,’ Cyrus mused to himself gleefully. House Greengrass was currently the richest Pureblood House in Magical Britain, but House Black was currently the second wealthiest, even without anyone managing their finances and House Malfoy ‘borrowing’ large amounts of money.
To top it all off, Minister Fudge had no choice but to publicly announce to the entire chamber that Sirius Black was no longer a wanted man, and in the face of all the evidence, had to exonerate him completely, which admittedly skipped a few legal procedures but was within the Minister’s power, as one of his offices’ abilities was to issue pardons, something he’d done for the ‘Totally Not Death Eaters’ many years ago. Not even the reveal that Sirius Black had been an illegal animagus changed any of that.
And seeing the furious expressions on both Malfoy and Dumbledore as all their schemes and plots started to crash down around their ears was like Ambrosia from the gods to Cyrus’s soul.
Thanks to the sheer chaos Madam Bones had just unleashed, the Wizengamot had to be ended early, meaning Malfoy’s ridiculous tax proposal never saw the floor, and if Cyrus had anything to say about it, never would.
‘Edward Rose… who are you?’ Cyrus wondered to himself as he left the Ministry of Magic. What had just happened spoke of connections that went beyond merely knowing Harry Potter and leveraging that to his benefit!
He also made a mental note to send a few letters to the reporters he had suggested attend today as well as the other shareholders in the Daily Prophet that were like-minded individuals. It was important to capitalize on this paradigm shift, and make sure the proper facts were reported, and most importantly that Malfoy didn’t have a chance to twist the facts.
‘I think it’s time I spoke to Edward Rose again. His offer of an alliance is now looking a lot more enticing,’ the noble businessman mused. Yes, somebody like him could be very useful in the future!
Comments
Alatoic
Mic drop. An Armageddon was released int he wizard world. love it! Still, I hope Dumbledore survive but damaged and that Lucius had to pay back all the "borrow money" or else. And now the grey faction will make the rules and I hope to see more of Amelia/Remus, I admit is a paring I have not seen before.
Catherine Colin
Watching the house of cards collapse was chefs kiss 💋
