Wizengamot (After the Flaw: Oligarchy, Chapter 4)
Title: Wizengamot (After the Flaw: Oligarchy, Chapter 4)
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: After the Flaw, Previous Chapters
Rating: PG13
Summary: Kingsley Shacklebolt changes his schedule
Notes: Stand in awe as I strip the legal process down to its barest bones and turn it into an overly simplified, Phoenix Wright-style proceeding.
I don't own these characters. They belong to JK Rowling.
Muggle Wedding / Previous Chapters / Mask of Osaka
Kingsley Shacklebolt moved his quill from his left hand to his right, and winced as he opened and closed his fingers, hearing them crack as much as feeling them.
"Is that all of them, Margaret?" he asked, glancing at the considerable stack of parchment on the left side of his desk.
"That's all of them for now, Minister," said Margaret, a curly-haired, middle-aged witch and Kingsley's personal assistant, from the chair on the other side of Kingsley's desk. "There are others that require your signature, but they're not nearly as pressing and, quite honestly, I know you can only handle so much paperwork in one day."
"You know me too well," Kingsley said, releasing a beleaguered hiss of air as he leaned back in his chair. "What's the schedule for today?"
"Yes, sir," Margaret said, flipping open her notebook and tapping it with her wand. "You're meeting with the Obliviators at ten. You have a Floo with Danish Minister Klarhed at eleven-thirty and another with Minister Archote of Mozambique at noon. The Wizarding Examination Authority at one to go over the preliminary N.E.W.T. test questions--"
"What course?"
Margaret tapped her notebook again. "Astronomy."
"Wouldn't they want to do that at night?" he asked, then waved quickly as Margaret opened her mouth to answer. "Rhetorical question. Please don't schedule a midnight meeting with them."
"Of course not, sir," Margaret said, discreetly wiping her wand across the page as though erasing something she had just written. "Your two o'clock is with Gawain Robards and Hermione Weasley, and you have a meeting with US Secretary Jackson at three before a joint meeting with the Secretary, the Muggle Prime Minister, and the US Muggle President at four."
"Representatives of the Muggle Liaison Department will be involved in that meeting?"
"Yes, sir," she said with another tap. "Carlean Foote and Harry Potter. And Madam Weasley, as head of the Liaison office, will of course be attending."
"Hmmm..." Kingsley closed his eyes, templing his fingers in front of his face. "Tell you what, Margaret. Let's try to kill a few birds with one wand, shall we?"
"As always, sir," Margaret said. Kingsley Shacklebolt was always one to reschedule on the fly, she had learned from years of experience.
"What's Robards's schedule before eleven-thirty?"
"The Wizengamot, of course," said Margaret, tapping her wand again. "Four cases before noon."
"Can I take a look at them?"
Margaret tore a page from the back of her notebook, swiped it quickly with her wand, and handed it over. Kingsley read down the list of cases and nodded. " Madam Weasley's schedule?"
"Nothing until noon," replied Margaret, who had access to the timetables of every member of the Ministry staff. "She's currently in her office preparing for the meetings this afternoon."
"And what about Liaison Thomas? Any pressing matters this afternoon?"
Margaret looked at Kingsley with brief confusion, then shrugged and looked back down on her notes. "Nothing that appears urgent," she said. "Just a meeting with the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee. Something about oofos, whatever they are."
"Perfect," said Kingsley, standing up and walking to the office closet. He opened the door, revealing a full-length mirror. "See if the Excuse Committee can change their meeting time and get Mr. Thomas to join us in the meeting at four. Cancel my appointment with Hermione and Gawain and move my meeting with the Obliviators into the two PM window. And order in some Indian, as well; I'm going to want lunch before my meeting with Jackson and the Muggle leaders, and my meeting with the Obliviators should be short."
"Should I reschedule your meeting with Weasley and Robards, as well, sir?"
"No need," said Kingsley, straightening his dark blue robes in the mirror and trying his best not to notice the years that were starting to pile up. His goatee had become more salt than pepper in his time as Minister and, despite his best efforts, he was starting to look a little thicker than he had during his time as Auror. Too much sitting behind a desk will do that to you, he thought morosely, even with the daily jog.
"Going somewhere?" Margaret asked.
"I'm going to sit in on the Wizengamot for a bit."
"Sir, the cases today don't require the input of the Minister..."
"I'm fully aware of that," said Kingsley, closing the closet door. "Be sure everything's in order for my meeting with Klarhed and Archote."
"Biryani or tandoori?"
"Biryani's safer," said Kingsley, opening the office door. "Less chance of offensive breath."
"I agree," Margaret said with a scribble as Kingsley closed the door behind him.
---------
Hermione Weasley, poring over her tidy desk in her just as tidy office, jerked to attention as Kingsley knocked on her open door.
"Minister Shacklebolt," said Hermione, jumping to her feet. "This is a surprise."
"It's Kingsley, Hermione, you know that," he replied.
"Oh, I know that, sir," she said quickly. "I just like to keep it formal in the office, Minister. Don't want the other employees to think that you're giving me any unfair advantages because we're friends, you know?"
"I know," said Kingsley with a wave of his hand. On her wall, a photograph of Ron, Hugo, and Rose, all clad in Cannon orange, waved back. "Am I interrupting anything?"
"Just fine-tuning the report for the President and the Prime Minister," said Hermione, motioning to a pile of parchment roughly the size of a hand-written dictionary beside her.
"I hope you have an outline written, as well?" Kingsley asked uncomfortably.
"Oh, of course," Hermione said, pulling out another twenty pages from her desk. "Three of them, actually. These treaties can be awfully technical at times, and I know the Prime Minister gets bored easily. I trust Foote's work, but I'm still not sure that Article 296B is worded quite right, so I have to re-look some things over before four."
"I'm sure they'll be just fine," said Kingsley. "Actually, can I steal you away from this for a few minutes?"
"Um, sure?" Hermione said, glancing uncertainly at the stack. "I think... Is it important? There are two or three finer points of this treaty--"
"Hermione, in all the time you've been head of the Muggle Liaison Department you've never put your signature on anything short of perfect. Your work is excellent, your employees' work is excellent."
"Well, I suppose I can skip lunch--"
"They'll be fine," Kingsley emphasized. "Walk with me."
Hermione's eyes flicked back and forth between the Minister of Magic and the pile of papers, looking like a student who knows she's handing in a Troll-Level O.W.L. Eventually, though, she stood up, grabbed a quill and parchment, and walked out of her office with Shacklebolt.
"Good morning, Minister," said various Ministry employees as the two walked through the first floor hallways. "Good morning, Minister." "Lovely day, isn't it, Minister?"
"Morning," Kingsley replied to all of them with a nod of his head as the two approached the lifts. "So how did the wedding go last weekend?"
"The what?" Hermione asked, her mind still obviously on the stack on her desk.
"Caroline's wedding," Kingsley said, pressing the Down button. "The Muggle wedding?"
"Oh, it couldn't have gone better," she replied, relaxing somewhat. "Lovely ceremony, great reception, not one slip-up."
"Even Hagrid was alright?"
"Hagrid was fine," Hermione replied as the lift's grille opened and the two squeezed their way past three wizards and a witch who stepped out with three paper airplanes behind them. "He had a few odd looks from the Muggles when they arrived, but once we told them that he had a condition they didn't stare too much. That's something you learn about Muggles, at least the polite ones: They consider it improper to ask strangers about their abnormalities."
"Level Three," the polite female voice announced to Hermione, Kingsley, and the five other Ministry employees on the elevator. "Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee."
"Well, I apologize again for my absence," said Kingsley as the grille slid open and two of the wizards were replaced by two others. "I did receive the invitation, but it just happened to fall on my mother's birthday. You understand."
Hermione, who still had to remind herself that the Minister of Magic was, along with her and Ron, one of the few wizards who knew her sister back when she was still Hermione Wilkins, smiled. "They understand, sir," she said. "And I'll be sure to extend your apology when they get back from Japan."
"Extend my apology nothing," Kingsley said with a small grin. "I'm taking the two of them out to dinner as an apology. I hope they won't mind."
"Oh, I'm sure they won't mind at all," said Hermione, just imagining how Ted and Caroline would react to a seven-course magical meal on a Minister's budget.
"Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office and Pest Advisory Bureau."
Two witches and a wizard left the lift as the grille opened, only to be replaced by two other faces that Hermione recognized. For some reason, Percy Weasley was on Level Four, along with--
"Charles!" Kingsley said, also showing his surprise.
"Kingsley, you big, bald, bastard, how are you doing?" Charlie Weasley said loudly, shaking Kingsley's hand with both of his own. Percy looked on with some trepidation as his older brother practically manhandled the Minister of Magic, but the two former members of the Order of the Phoenix were laughing boisterously as the grille closed once again.
"I was in a meeting at the Spirit Division when I ran into him," Percy said quietly to Hermione, as though trying to excuse his mere association with Charlie's rugged behavior.
"So what brings you here?" Kingsley asked Charlie. "If I had known you were coming..."
"Last-minute meeting," said Charlie, sobering up quickly. "Last-ditch meeting, actually, with Rolf."
"Is this about the Ukrainian incident?" the Minister asked.
"It is," said Charlie. "The Ukrainians keep giving me the cold shoulder, and the Romanians say their hands are tied."
"Well, you have to understand where they're coming from, Charlie," said Kingsley. "Without any proof--"
"Yeah, I know, I know," said Charlie, shaking his head. "Anyway, I thought I could get Scamander to try to talk some sense across borders, to at least investigate the damn thing."
"No luck," said Shacklebolt. It wasn't a question.
"No luck," Charlie agreed. "Scamander says that their Department's only concerned with controlling creatures within our borders, obviously, and keeping unregulated creatures out. Luckily, he believed me enough to say that he'll talk to his people, maybe keep their eyes out to make sure nothing happens on this side of the Channel."
"That's the best he can do," said Kingsley. "You know that."
"I know," Charles said.
"Level Five, Department of International Magical Co-Operation, incorporating the International Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats."
"Hey, maybe you could help," Charlie continued hopefully as the remaining wizards exited the lift. "Put a fire under their Ministries, see if they can do something more than spit on me."
"There's not much I can do personally," said Kingsley. "But I can speak to the Magical Co-Operation Department, see if they can pull some strings."
"That would be fantastic," said Charlie, slapping Kingsley on the arm. "The Czechs and the Poles should get a word, too. The Gorynyches were under their jurisdiction, they have to know who had the authority to move them across borders."
"Well, I'll see what I can do," Kingsley said, making brief note on his own parchment.
"Level Seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club, and Ludicrous Patents Office."
"And that's my stop," said Charlie as the grille slid open. "Meeting with some old Gryffindors for lunch."
"It was good seeing you again," said Kingsley with a nod. "Keep in touch."
"Definitely. Oh!" Charlie yelled as he threw his arm in front of the grille, stopping it halfway from closing. "Do you think you could get a word in about Luna Lovegood, too? She's in a lot of hot water with the Ukrainians over this, and she wouldn't be if she hadn't been doing the right thing."
"We already have people on the Lovegood case," said Kingsley. "But I can certainly give them my two cents."
"Good," said Charlie with a relieved grin that forced Hermione cover her face to hide her amusement. She had already heard plenty from Luna about her "friendly" relationship with Charlie Weasley, but the look on his face made Hermione think there might be more than mere necessity between the two of them.
"Oh!" Charlie said, once again slamming the grille open, "Perce, Hermione, I'm staying at the Burrow till tomorrow morning, and Mum's making a couple roasts for dinner. She says you and yours are invited, if you're up for it."
"I'm up for it," said Hermione. "Seven?"
"Perce?"
"Go!" Percy gave an exasperated yell. "You're running us late!"
"See you then," said Charlie with a mischievous grin, pulling his arm away and allowing the grille to finally close completely.
"I deeply apologize for my brother's behavior, Minister," Percy began spouting profusely as the lift began to once again descend. "I had a meeting with Azura, and I just couldn't get rid of him--"
"It's fine, it's fine," said Kingsley. "We're all running a little late. They'll understand."
"Who will understand, sir?" asked Hermione. "Where are we going?"
"Department of Mysteries," the cool female voice announced as the lift opened and Hermione, Kingsley, and Percy stepped out. Hermione had rarely been down here since she began her employment with the Ministry, but her stomach still tightened slightly as she saw the long, bare hallway with the black door at the end. She still vividly recalled her first time down here. Knew that she'd never forget the other side of that door, being chased by Death Eaters, including the horrific baby-faced one. The fear that had surged through her as she was separated from Ron before that purple flame of pain took her down for the count.
Gratefully, the trio turned left as they exited the lift. "Have you attended a Wizengamot hearing yet, Hermione?" Kingsley asked.
"Only two," said Hermione with a shiver, but she felt her guts relaxing as they descended the steps. "The Blurr case in '03 and the Scott case in 2012."
"Well, this will make three," said Kingsley. "Courtroom Three, yes, Percy?"
"Yes, sir," said Percy, flipping through his stack of parchment before handing one to the Minister. "Here are the details."
"Thank you," said Kingsley, his eyes running down the paper as they reached the bottom of the stairs and walked down the dungeon-like hallway.
"Is there any particular reason you wish for me to attend, sir?" asked Hermione.
"Various reasons," said Kingsley, handing her the report. "First off, the case does have some personal bearing."
Hermione saw the name at the top of the list, and her eyes widened. "Parkinson? Pansy Parkinson?"
"Finnigan's spoken with your family, correct?" Kingsley asked. "About Carrow, Parkinson, and Bletchley?"
"He mentioned Carrow escaped," said Hermione, "and that he was still a threat, but he didn't say anything about Parkinson or Bletchley."
"I suppose he wouldn't," said Kingsley as they reached Chamber Three. "They were already in our custody at the time, and he only wanted to alert you about the clear and present danger of the situation. Anyway, I thought perhaps you might want to sit in on this one. Maybe give some testimony as to the character of the witness if the Wizengamot requires it."
"Gladly," said Hermione with a shudder. "I never liked her."
"But please keep it professional," Percy injected as he opened the large oak door. "She has Zabini in her defense, and he's liable to jump on you if you start badgering her."
"Of course," said Hermione, not really surprised. Blaise Zabini, another Slytherin in their year, had gone on to become one of the best Defenders in England. Despite, or possibly because of, his brutally high opinion of himself in his years at Hogwarts, as well as a lack of any firm family tree, Zabini had been able to avoid the Dark stigma placed on most of his fellow Slytherins following the Battle of Hogwarts, and had comfortably made the transition to the real world soon after finishing his schooling. He now commanded attention in any room he entered, and had been relatively successful when it came to social acceptance in both the Pureblood and Generalblood circles.
Hermione, however, had seen him on occasion while walking through the Ministry over the years, and still received a look from him that made her think that his acceptance of half-bloods and Muggleborns was a career choice, nothing more. Deep down, she knew he was still a Pureblood supporter through and through.
"Mr. Weasley," came a voice from the far end of the chamber as Percy entered first. "Just barely in time, I see."
"I extend my apologies for the Senior Undersecretary's delay, Your Honor," said Kingsley as he followed Percy in, Hermione trailing behind them both. "Family business that we all had to attend to."
"Oh, Minister Shacklebolt!" the elderly wizard in plum robes exclaimed, pushing himself to his feet. "I do apologize, I didn't know you were planning to attend these hearings."
"Last-minute change of plans, Robards," Kingsley said as, all around the room, fifty other witches and wizards, many in matching robes, stood in respect to Kingsley's entrance. Kingsley impatiently waved them all down. "I hope you don't mind?"
"Not at all, Minister, not at all," said Robards with a smile, shifting one chair to his left. Kingsley nodded to the elder wizard as the other members of the Wizengamot returned to their seats.
"Why don't you grab one of the spare seats over there?" Kingsley muttered to Hermione, pointing to the right side of the chamber. "And don't be afraid to ask any member of the Wizengamot for notes regarding the case."
"Yes, sir," Hermione nodded nervously, feeling everyone's eyes on her. "Thank you, sir." She slid her way to the side where Kingsley had pointed out, sitting down beside a plump witch with long black hair. Across the room, Hermione noticed Seamus Finnigan among the spectators, and he nodded briefly to her before returning his attention to the floor. Seated beside Seamus was Tiberius Ogden, Headmaster of Hogwarts and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, who also acknowledged her appearance with a small wave.
Kingsley ascended the small staircase and sat down in the chair previously occupied by Robards. Percy seated himself to the Minister's right, and the three Ministry officials spent a few moments adjusting their paperwork before Shacklebolt turned to Robards.
"Is the accused ready, Mr. Robards?"
"She is, Minister Shacklebolt," said Robards, picking up a gavel and banging it on the table twice. Within seconds, the large oak doors opened once again.
It had been years since Hermione had last seen Pansy Parkinson, and very little had changed. Still hard-faced, with an expression that looked like someone had stuck a Dungbomb up her nose, Hermione was amazed to see that the chained, prison-grey-clad woman now walking into the chamber had barely aged at all. Looking closer to twenty than thirty-nine, Hermione wondered how many anti-aging spells and potions Pansy had to be using on a consistent basis to retain that look, and just how much damage was being done with that kind of assault on her biological systems.
Pansy was flanked by two tough-looking Azkaban Aurors as she took her seat in the straight-backed chair. One of Minister Shacklebolt's first decisions upon taking office was to remove the unpredictable Dementors from their duties at the wizard prison. The move was roundly criticized by many of Shacklebolt's opponents, but Kingsley argued that Dementors had been proven unreliable at best, not only in their allegiance to the Death Eaters in the Second War, but in the Black, Crouch, and Umbridge cases previous. At worst they were inhumane, causing many Azkaban prisoners to die of depression and starvation by their mere presence, and often attacking and Kissing innocent witches and wizards without provocation.
In the end the Minister, with assistance from the Being Division, won out. After their removal from Azkaban, the question became what to do with them, as they could not be destroyed. It was decided, after much research, to place the horrifying creatures in a series of vaults below Gringotts, where their multiplication was kept in check through a series of safeguards, which included strategic uses of Fiendfyre and other eternal flames along with magically looped polka music and photographs of kittens playing with Christmas wrapping.
Next came replacing the Dementors in Azkaban while still making the prison both intimidating and impenetrable. Refortifying the magical barriers around the prison was the easy part. The difficult task came in finding witches and wizards to become the first human prison guards in centuries. It was difficult enough finding qualified Aurors before the Second War. Guarding Azkaban prison forced the Department to effectively double their staff in a world where unemployed witches and wizards were thin on the ground.
Since the initial expansion, a new Office was created within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to specifically deal with the Azkaban guards and with other various protective hexes surrounding the prison, but opponents of the change continued to that day to argue that guarding the prison with wizards not only thinned the ranks of effective Aurors and Hit Wizards in other areas of England, but only increased the chances of criminal insurgency within the prison, giving the prisoners a hope and vigor that Dementors would have naturally dampened.
Hermione, having met Dementors personally on many occasions, silently wished for the opponents to shut the hell up.
Kingsley nodded to Robards, who balanced his glasses on the tip of his nose and read: "Criminal hearing of the third of July, two thousand and nineteen, into offences committed under the Acts of the Ministry of Magic by Pansy Parkinson, resident at Bletchley Mansion, Nottingham, Nottinghamshire.
"Interrogators: Kingsley Johnathan Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic; Gawain Lancelot Robards, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Percy Ignatius Weasley, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court scribe is Terrence Zellman and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot is Professor Tiberius Ogden.
"Miss Parkinson," Robards continued, glancing down at her through his reading glasses, "do you have a representative to speak in your defense?"
"She does, your honor," announced tall, rail-thin black wizard with a gaunt face and thinning, closely-cropped hair, who stood up from a bench which sat along the inside of the circle of risers. "Witness for the defense, Blaise Titus Zabini."
"Very well," said Robards, making a note on his parchment. "Miss Parkinson, you have been charged with conspiracy to commit murder, conspiracy to kidnap, conspiracy to resurrect, conspiracy to desecrate human remains, and resisting arrest on the evening of June twenty-fourth. Do you understand the charges laid against you?"
"Yes," Pansy said shortly.
"How do you plead to these charges?"
"Not guilty," Pansy replied with a demeaning sniff.
"Mr. Robards, Minister Shacklebolt, members of the Wizengamot," Zabini boomed. "Before we continue with this travesty of a trial--"
"Oh, here we go," the witch sitting beside Hermione muttered. "Zabini's at it again."
"--I formally request an immediate termination of these proceedings."
"On what grounds?" asked Percy.
"Where to begin?" Zabini said with a sigh of martyrdom as he flipped through his stack of parchment. "We could start with the highly illegal actions of the Ministry throughout this entire case, illegal actions that should easily result in throwing out any of the so-called witness testimony for the prosecution."
"Illegal in what way?" asked Robards.
"Illegal in regards to the action of their embedded agent, of course," said Zabini calmly. "You would agree that you have one Reginald Deepneau in Ministry custody, correct?"
"Had him in custody," said Robards. "Thanks to evidence brought to light through this very investigation, Mr. Deepneau has since been extradited to Warsaw, where he faces first-degree murder charges in the death of Doctor Jakob Rosen."
"So you would agree that Deepneau was in your custody at the time--"
"Mr. Zabini, as exciting as your long-winded tales of mystery are," Percy sighed, "if you could just please get on with it."
"Of course, Mr. Undersecretary," said Zabini, a flicker of distaste flashing across his eyes as he looked at Percy. "I speak of course of the Imperius Curse used by the Ministry on Mr. Deepneau in order to infiltrate this harmless gathering--"
Zabini continued to talk, but his words were buried by the uproar from the surrounding Wizengamot. Almost a dozen strokes from Robards' gavel were needed before the crowd once again calmed itself.
"These are quite serious allegations, Mr. Zabini," said Robards.
"And completely unfounded," said Kingsley. "Under my administration, the Ministry never has, and never will use, the Imperius Curse."
"Minister Shacklebolt, I mean no disrespect to you and your administration," said Blaise. "However, I must argue that Auror Seamus Finnigan has used questionable methods many times in the past--"
"But not the Imperius Curse," Finnigan interrupted from the side. "Minister Shacklebolt, you have been given the background information regarding the case and regarding our--"
"--Used questionable methods in the past," Zabini loudly interrupted. "And in this case, he went over your head, Mr. Minister. There was no Polyjuice involved, and Transfiguration doesn't alter the target's voice. Owing to the harsh treatment that he's received since, one would assume that Mr. Deepneau didn't simply play the patsy for a smaller sentence, which would lead me to only one conclusion: that he was Imperiused on the evening of June twenty-fourth."
"Mr. Minister, Mr. Robards," Finnigan said loudly, "you have received background information regarding this case and regarding our man on the inside."
"I have," said Robards.
"And you have the full understanding that the Imperius Curse was never used," Finnigan continued, "nor was Mr. Deepneau ever treated unduly while in our custody. In addition, you understand the sensitive nature of the agent's situation, and how we cannot reveal his identity or the nature of his infiltration."
"Indeed," said Mr. Robards. "Mr. Zabini, your request has been denied, and we will continue with the case." Blaise threw a look of frustration at Gawain, but subsided. "Miss Parkinson," Robards continued, "our Ministry representative claims that on the evening of July twenty-fourth you, along with Mr. Miles Bletchley and Mr. Antaeus Carrow, did willfully and eagerly discuss the resurrection of the late Tom Marvolo Riddle, more commonly known as Lord Voldemort."
A small shudder passed through the Wizengamot, Hermione noticed. Despite the Ministry's insistence that the name Voldemort was no longer Taboo, and despite the fact that most who fought in the Second Battle considered it no longer unacceptable to say anything but "You-Know-Who," many elder witches and wizards still felt a slight twinge whenever Riddle's alias was spoken.
"In discussing the particulars of this resurrection," Robards continued, unmindful of the small commotion around him, "you, along with Mr. Bletchley and Mr. Carrow, conspired to not only desecrate the remains of the late Vincent Arnold Crabbe; the late Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore; and the previously named Tom Marvolo Riddle; but to kidnap and murder Professor Neville Franklin Longbottom; Mr. Harry James Potter; Mrs. Hermione Jean Weasley, née Granger; and Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley; as well as to kidnap and perform illegal hexes on Mrs. Ginevra Potter and three minors who shall go unnamed in the court record due to privacy laws."
As Hermione heard the names listed off, her own included, she felt a swell of anger in her throat. Seamus had not given any of them specific details of the Death Eater's supposed plans, but to hear Gawain list off not only the list of those responsible for the destruction of Voldemort's horcruxes, but to say that there were plans to do something to Ginny and the children? She heard the witch beside her mumble "terrible, terrible," and she couldn't help but agree.
"Miss Parkinson," said Robards, looking down at the woman in the middle of the chamber. "Do you deny that you participated in these discussions?"
Pansy opened her mouth to respond, but Blaise put a hand on her shoulder. "While Madam Parkinson does not deny that these discussions took place in her general vicinity," he stated coolly, "she would state that her part in the conversation was little to none, and that she, at no point, threatened the lives of any of the previously named victims, nor did she ever agree to this supposed resurrection of Mr. Riddle."
"So, then," said Percy, adjusting his own glasses as he looked down at his parchment, "when the defendant stated, quote, 'Are you telling me that I have a reason to kill that' expletive deleted 'Granger after all these years?', she wasn't threatening murder?"
"Of course not," said Zabini simply.
"And when she went on to say 'Please tell me I get to kill Granger, please, please,' and so on, she also wasn't threatening murder?"
"Anyone who knows Madam Parkinson," Zabini explained, "would know of her school-age rivalry with the then Miss Hermione Granger. They would understand the mutual enmity between the two women, and how often words of childhood hatred were exchanged between them as well as their friends. And while I will agree that childish pranks were played on both Madam Parkinson and Mrs. Weasley, nee Granger, by House associates, at no point did the two ever so much as hurl a single Tripping Jinx at each other. Would you agree with this statement, Mrs. Weasley?" At this point Blaise pivoted on his heel and turned in Hermione's direction.
For her part, as she saw and felt the eyes of the collective Wizengamot turn towards her, Hermione kept her cool. "This is true, Mr. Zabini," she said, her voice barely trembling with anger. Because it was true. She and Pansy had hated each other, loathed each other, in their time at Hogwarts, and had screamed more than one insult at each other across the Great Hall, but they had never once drawn wands face-to-face. Pansy had been much happier allowing Draco and his goons, and even Millicent Bulstrode, to do her dirty work.
"This was twenty years ago," Blaise continued to the Wizengamot. "Twenty years changes most of us. We would all agree that, as children, we were far more likely to actually follow through on our disagreements with wand and fist than we are today. We may still speak ill of those we grew up with. I do, and I am sure there is not one in this courtroom who would say differently of their own experiences. But if Madam Parkinson kept her hand away from her wand when she was fifteen, surely she would keep it away now twenty years later, having completely written Mrs. Weasley from her life after all these decades. These words that you're quoting, Mr. Undersecretary, were mere bluster from an older, wiser witch, and no more. Please be aware, as well, that Madam Parkinson had consumed numerous alcoholic beverages leading up to the conversation, which would easily lead to looser, more boisterous talk."
"Fairly thin reasoning," the witch beside Hermione murmured.
"But reasoning nonetheless," said Hermione glumly. "May I borrow your copy of the transcript, please?"
The witch nodded, and handed Hermione a few pages of dialogue. She quickly skimmed through the unimportant bits, the conversation between Teddy, Pansy, and the two Death Eaters during their card game, until she found the pertinent information regarding the resurrection of Voldemort.
Sure enough, Pansy never once stated that she was going to kill Hermione, only that she desired to. And she never stated any other names while she was talking. Carrow had said a lot, Bletchley had said a lot, but, while Pansy never argued against the murder, she never once explicitly volunteered to kill, desecrate, or to even take part in the resurrection. And with no physical evidence supporting the conspiracy, her words were all that could be used to convict her, and her words could, yes, easily be construed as the empty bellowings of a witch who had been drinking for hours.
Robards continued nonetheless: "And her verbal concurrence with Mr. Carrow when he stated that he would, quote, 'gladly sacrifice myself in order for the Dark Lord to regain power'?"
"Madam Parkinson's political and ethical stances have little to do with this case," Blaise breezed. "We could stand here all day and argue what we consider right and wrong, or to argue whether one agreed with Tom Riddle or not. But stating that we would gladly give our life to bring another back is not exclusive to purebloods, halfbloods, or Muggleborns. It certainly doesn't mean that we're going to go through with it, and it is certainly not illegal to state such wishes aloud."
A brief silence fell over the chamber as Robards and Weasley adjusted their papers. Kingsley glanced between the two of them to see if either of them wished to speak, before entering the conversation himself. "Miss Parkinson," he asked, "what is your relationship with Mr. Antaeus Carrow?"
"Very brief," Pansy replied, the first time she had spoken since entering her plea.
"And with Mr. Reginald Deepneau?"
"Madam Parkinson had interacted with them both in the past," said Blaise. "But all of the occasions were very formal, very public and, again, very brief."
"So you had no idea that you were playing Watch Me with two wizards wanted by the Ministry for various violent crimes against both wizards and Muggles?"
"Newspapers bore me," said Pansy with a shrug.
"So you've never been involved with any of their illicit activities?"
"Never."
"Please do remember," Blaise said, "that Madam Parkinson has never once been charged for any crime in the past. Twenty years without so much as a broomstick moving violation or an unleashed shih tzu."
"And your phrase," Kingsley looked down at his parchment, "'I've disemboweled men for less?'"
"Never caught me," Pansy said with a withering smile.
"More bluster," Blaise added quickly, throwing a reproachful look at Pansy.
"Then why run?" asked Tiberius from the side. "If you believe, as you say, that you had done nothing illegal, and that you had no reason to be arrested, why did you evade Auror custody?"
"Intimidation, of course," said Blaise. "As you've said, Antaeus Carrow was a violent criminal. Madam Parkinson and Mr. Bletchley may not have understood this before your agent was found out, but once Carrow reacted in the way that he did, they were terrified. When he told them to run, they felt they had no choice. To not do what the maniac ordered would be to risk their own lives."
There were mutters of agreement throughout the room. From all accounts of Antaeus Carrow that night, and of his violent history, of course Pansy and Miles would have felt their own lives were in peril. Hermione flipped through the pages of the transcript, which unfortunately ended at that point. Whatever listening devices had been planted on Teddy or on the room, they obviously hadn't picked up any of the conversation after the four had Apparated.
Wait a minute...
"Besides," Pansy interjected, despite Blaise's harsh glance, "how could we know they were Aurors? We thought they might have been Oligarchy. Of course we'd run."
"Oligarchy?" asked Percy, looking around the room in confusion. "What's that?" Finnigan stared at the ceiling in exasperation; Kingsley and Robards, however, both pushed themselves forward in chairs with interest.
"Who are the Oligarchy, Miss Parkinson?" Robards asked, his quill poised and ready.
"Hell if I know," said Pansy, attempting to cross her arms, which were held immoble by the chains on her chair. "All I know is that they keep going after old Death Eaters and their families, and that if they want to kill you, you're dead. We didn't want to be the next ones on their hit list, is all."
"And why would you believe they were targeting you?" Gawain continued.
"Doesn't matter, really," said Pansy with growing anger. "If you know you're a target, you don't really care why. Maybe they decided the War's not over yet, that things hadn't evened up after the death of the Dark Lord. Talk to any of your old DA mates lately, Granger? Finnigan?" Pansy looked right and looked left at the old Gryffindors. "Maybe someone you know decide they want to kick us while we're down? Or maybe one of Minister Shacklebolt's friends in the Order of the Phoenix think there aren't enough Death Eater graves to piss on?"
"Order! Order!" Robards howled as the Wizengamot exploded with reproachful murmurs. "Miss Parkinson, if you would please be respectful--"
"She is being as respectful as she can be," Zabini stated quickly, "considering the nature of her world. History, as you know, is written by the winners. As such, Madam Parkinson's family and friends have been painted with the same brush, whether they deserve it or not. This, however, only fortifies her innocence, as you can obviously understand why she would feel her life was threatened. As you can clearly understand," Zabini continued, pacing the circle with his hands clasped behind his back, "Madam Parkinson has no history of past violence, no reason to suspect that she was ever involved in any illicit activity, and any plans for murder, for kidnapping, and certainly for performing dark, dark magic to resurrect the dead would be the furthest thing from her mind. Furthermore, the threat on her life, both by the assault from outside and from the sudden threats from Mr. Carrow, would cause her and Mr. Bletchley to flee the scene without considering the consequences.
"As such, I would ask at this time that the Wizengamot think clearly, and logically, about this case and to vote Madam Parkinson not guilty on all charges."
"Very well," Robards said with a sigh. "If there are no further questions--"
"Actually," said Hermione, forcing herself to her feet, "I do have one more question to ask."
Hermione tried, with force of will, to keep her face from reddening as the collective Wizengamot turned their attention once again to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Robards and Kinglsey exchange a look. Kingsley nodded to Robards, and Hermione swore she could see the hint of a smile cross his face.
"The chair recognizes Hermione Jean Weasley," Robards announced to the Wizengamot and to the court scribe, "Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Muggle Liaison Office."
"Thank you, Mr. Robards," said Hermione, who took a look around the Wizengamot. Although it was difficult to tell without an actual hand count, the expressions she saw on the faces of the court's members made her believe that Zabini may have instilled enough reasonable doubt to let Pansy off.
You get one shot at this, she thought. Make it count.
She turned to Pansy, who was looking back at her with an arched eyebrow, took a deep breath, and put on her sweetest smile. "Hullo, Pansy," she said as politely as possible.
"Hullo, Granger," Pansy said flatly.
"Actually, it's Weasley now," Hermione corrected, "as you've probably heard during these proceedings."
"So I have..."
"Miss Parkinson--"
"It's Bletchley, actually," Pansy said. "We just haven't gotten around to filing the paperwork."
"Miles is your husband, then?" Hermione said conversationally.
"Glad to see that amazing brain of yours is still working, Granger," Pansy said with a roll of her eyes.
"Mrs. Weasley," Blaise sharply interrupted, "if you could please get on with whatever it is you're going to say. Time is money, and we all have to get on with our lives."
"Yes, of course," Hermione said, setting down her paperwork. "Miss Park-- Mrs. Bletchley, if I recall, you were never very good at Apparition, were you?"
"Back then, yeah," Pansy replied cautiously.
"If I remember, while you didn't leave entire limbs behind, you'd often land in completely different parts of the room. You left hair behind, a finger once or twice--"
"I might have," said Pansy. "What of it?"
"You had to take your test three times, didn't you?" Hermione continued. "First time you failed you ended up a half mile away from the target, and the second time--"
"Don't you try it, Granger," Pansy snarled.
"You left your brassiere at the testing location, didn't you?"
Several members of the Wizengamot did their best to retain their professionalism by covering their snorts of laughter with their hands. Hermione caught a glimpse of Seamus across from her, and he also looked as though he was containing his absolute elation at the memory of their Apparition test.
Blaise, however, wasn't quite as amused, and his client looked absolutely livid. "Mr. Minister," Blaise pleaded angrily, "I vehemently oppose this line of questioning. Mrs. Weasley is making a mockery of my client--"
"You stated yourself that we're allowed to think ill of our childhood rivals," Shacklebolt replied. "But I will accept your request. Madam Weasley, if you could please stay with the subject at hand."
"Of course, Minister," Hermione said, turning back to Pansy, whose face was turning purple in its rage. "So, Mrs. Bletchley, you do admit, then, that you were never very good at Apparition."
"Obviously," Pansy said between clenched teeth.
"I assume, with a history like that, you haven't gotten any better?" Hermione continued.
"I can handle myself..."
"So you don't have to do Side-Alongs?" Hermione pressed. "Don't have to grab a hold of your husband if you want to go from place to place?"
"Of course not!"
"You've never had to Side-Along..."
"Never!"
"And you didn't Side-Along when you escaped the Aurors?"
"No, I didn't!"
"Then how did you follow Antaeus to where he was Apparating?"
The silence that fell over the Wizengamot was deafening. Pansy Parkinson-Bletchley, her face all shades of color, hung her mouth open as she searched for an answer.
"Minister Shacklebolt!" Zabini yelled frantically. "Mr. Robards! This line of questioning is completely irrelevant to the--"
"Motion denied," Robards interrupted. "Miss Parkinson, can you answer the question?"
"Pansy," Hermione continued as Pansy sat silently, "your defense claims that you barely knew Mr. Carrow and Mr. Deepneau, having only met them once or twice, briefly, and in very public and very innocent gatherings. However, on the night of June twenty-fourth, you were rudely interrupted during a so-called harmless meeting by our Aurors. Mr. Carrow snapped, and ordered you and Mr. Bletchley to escape using only two words: 'Hideout. Now.'"
"Minister Shacklebolt!" Blaise roared.
"Now how would you know how to get to Mr. Carrow's hideout, Pansy?" Hermione asked. "If you had only met him once or twice, with absolutely no knowledge of his illegal activites. Unless you were an extremely gifted Legilimens that could read Mr. Carrow's thoughts the moment before he Apparated, you wouldn't have any idea that he would even have a hiding place, an unused section of sewer, packed to the ceiling with all manner of dangerous Dark objects and texts. Not exactly a place for an innocent, high-society woman as yourself, and certainly not the location of one of your brief, public, innocent meetings."
"Minister Shacklebolt, if you will--"
"Mr. Zabini, you will be quiet and let Miss Parkinson answer the question!" Shacklebolt yelled.
"He said two words, Pansy," said Hermione, leaning forward now, smelling blood. "The serial murderer Antaeus Carrow ordered you and your husband with two words. 'Hideout. Now.' How would you know how to get to Carrow's dark, dank, mouldy hideout unless you had been there before? How would you be able to get through the various protective barriers without having clearance from Mr. Carrow himself? How would you know it as the hideout unless you had used it on numerous occasions as a hideout of your own? Reading the texts, studying the Dark instruments, maybe using them to, what was the phrase, 'disembowel men'? Torture wizards? Maybe kill Muggles for sport?"
"Minister Shacklebolt, Mrs. Weasley is badgering the witness..."
"All that and more!" Pansy screamed into the echoing chamber. "You want to be next, Mudblood?"
The previous explosion was nothing compared to the roar that erupted among the Wizengamot as Pansy screamed at Hermione, straining against the chains as she hurled more and more profanity at the Muggle-born. Robards was furiously pounding his gavel on the table to restore order while Blaise, using an impressively booming voice, was able to speak even above the apoplectic crowd.
"Minister Shacklebolt," he yelled. "My client has obviously been placed under the Imperius Curse by Mr. Antaeus Carrow and has no knowledge of what occurred the night of the crime. For all we know, she could be under the Curse still--"
"I've had enough of that, Mr. Zabini," said Kingsley, and his deep bass voice echoing over the chamber was enough to calm the crowd to a dull babble. "While Mr. Zabini argued that Miss Parkinson could never be believed when she stated her threats on the night of June twenty-fourth, Madam Weasley, and Madam Parkinson herself, have given ample evidence to the contrary. Miss Parkinson's associations with murderers and criminals, her knowledge of Mr. Carrow's hideout, and her obvious instability and hatred towards Madam Weasley and Muggle-borns in general, would certainly leave the impression that murder, torture, and kidnapping are well within her moral and physical limits. Indeed, she very well could have performed such acts in the past despite her unblemished public record, and I will personally make sure that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement re-evaluates past cold cases with this in mind.
"The Wizengamot will now give their vote with a show of hands. Those who find Miss Pansy Parkinson not guilty on the charges of conspiracy to commit murder, conspiracy to kidnap, conspiracy to resurrect, conspiracy to desecrate human remains, and resisting arrest?"
Hermione looked around the room. Not one hand was raised.
"And those who find Miss Pansy Parkinson guilty on the read charges?"
Every hand in the room rose. Pansy, who was still frothing at the mouth and staring at Hermione, seemed to be pulled to reality at the sight of all of the hands.
"Miss Pansy Parkinson," announced Gawain Robards. "The Wizengamot finds you guilty on the charges of--"
"No, wait!" Pansy yelled, straining against her chains. "Wait! I can't-- I can't go to prison! I can't! I didn't--"
"--to kidnap, conspiracy to resurrect--"
"It was Miles!" she screamed desperately. "It was all him! He brought me there, he was the one who wanted to kill everyone and bring back the Dark Lord! He broke Reggie's wand! It wasn't meee!"
"This court will reconvene tomorrow morning in order to deliberate the sentence for Miss Parkinson," said Robards. "In the meantime she will be returned to Azkaban--"
"Please, I'll do anything!" Pansy screamed. "I can't go back, it's so small and dirty and I'll do anything! It was Miles! All him!"
"Wait," Kingsley said, raising his hand to the Aurors as they unfastened the chains on the chair with their wands. "Miss Parkinson, am I hearing you correctly? Because it sounds to me as though you'd be perfectly willing to allow Mr. Bletchley to take the blame for all of your crimes."
"Gladly," Pansy sobbed. "Gladly, he's a criminal, and a beast, and--"
"And he's your husband," Kingsley said with an arched eyebrow. "One who, according to the transcript, you still seem very fond of. You would trade places with him?"
"I'll say anything you want," Pansy babbled as she was restrained by the two guards. "Just please, I can't go to prison, it's not fair..."
"You would give sworn testimony against your own husband to let yourself free," said Percy with an arched eyebrow. "Classy."
"Mr. Bletchley's trial is Thursday," said Robards to Shacklebolt. "We might want to consider her offer."
"We'll consider it," Shacklebolt said doubtfully. "Guards, take her back to Azkaban until sentencing tomorrow."
"No!" Pansy screamed as the guards dragged her from the chamber. "No, not yet, I said I'd--" The door slammed shut on the three, cutting of Pansy's howlings and leaving the Wizengamot looking around at each other in bemusement.
"This case will reconvene at ten AM on July fourth. The Wizengamot and the interrogators will now have a ten minute break before bringing in the next case." Robards swung his gavel down once, and the Wizengamot and audience began a low conversational rumble as they stood, stretched, and otherwise meandered around the chamber. Hermione saw both Seamus and Tiberius descending the stairs to cross over to her. She moved to do the same, but saw that Kingsley, Robards, and Percy were all walking in her direction with smiles on their faces.
"Wonderful interrogation, Madam Weasley," said Robards, taking Hermione's hand in his own dry, wrinkled one and shaking it heartily. "Simply wonderful."
"Um, thank you, sir," Hermione said carefully as she suddenly found herself surrounded by the Ministry men. "Honestly, though, it seemed like an obvious route to take, I assumed someone else would have--"
"Now, now, you don't have to be so modest," said Robards with a shake of his head. "Sometimes it's best to play on the emotions, just so long as it doesn't get too out of hand."
"That... That wasn't out of hand?" Hermione asked, still seeing Pansy's screaming face in her memory.
"I've been the Head of Magical Law Enforcement for over twenty years, Madam Weasley," said Robards. "Believe me when I say that that," he tilted his head towards the now vacated chair, "was nothing."
"So what do you think, Gawain?" asked Kingsley cryptically. "Are you still on board?"
"Quite, quite," Robards nodded.
"Percy?"
"An excellent choice, Minister," said Percy, adjusting his glasses. "I couldn't think of anyone better."
Kingsley shot a look at both Seamus and Tiberius who both nodded. "I've been saying it from day one, Kingsley, you know that," Seamus added.
Hermione looked upon these exchanges with more than a little confusion. "What's going on?"
"Hermione," said Kingsley formally, but with a growing smile, "I'd like you and Mr. Robards to arrange a series of meetings in the next few months--"
"For?"
"I've served this Ministry proudly for fifty years," Gawain explained. "The last twenty of which I replaced the esteemed Pius Thicknesse who, before being Imperiused by Voldemort's agents, served this court nobly following the death of Amelia Bones. But my energies are waning. It's about time to hand off my gavel."
"Hermione Weasley," said Kingsley to Hermione's widening eyes and hanging jaw, "I'd like to offer you a new position..."
Muggle Wedding / Previous Chapters / Mask of Osaka
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: After the Flaw, Previous Chapters
Rating: PG13
Summary: Kingsley Shacklebolt changes his schedule
Notes: Stand in awe as I strip the legal process down to its barest bones and turn it into an overly simplified, Phoenix Wright-style proceeding.
I don't own these characters. They belong to JK Rowling.
Muggle Wedding / Previous Chapters / Mask of Osaka
Kingsley Shacklebolt moved his quill from his left hand to his right, and winced as he opened and closed his fingers, hearing them crack as much as feeling them.
"Is that all of them, Margaret?" he asked, glancing at the considerable stack of parchment on the left side of his desk.
"That's all of them for now, Minister," said Margaret, a curly-haired, middle-aged witch and Kingsley's personal assistant, from the chair on the other side of Kingsley's desk. "There are others that require your signature, but they're not nearly as pressing and, quite honestly, I know you can only handle so much paperwork in one day."
"You know me too well," Kingsley said, releasing a beleaguered hiss of air as he leaned back in his chair. "What's the schedule for today?"
"Yes, sir," Margaret said, flipping open her notebook and tapping it with her wand. "You're meeting with the Obliviators at ten. You have a Floo with Danish Minister Klarhed at eleven-thirty and another with Minister Archote of Mozambique at noon. The Wizarding Examination Authority at one to go over the preliminary N.E.W.T. test questions--"
"What course?"
Margaret tapped her notebook again. "Astronomy."
"Wouldn't they want to do that at night?" he asked, then waved quickly as Margaret opened her mouth to answer. "Rhetorical question. Please don't schedule a midnight meeting with them."
"Of course not, sir," Margaret said, discreetly wiping her wand across the page as though erasing something she had just written. "Your two o'clock is with Gawain Robards and Hermione Weasley, and you have a meeting with US Secretary Jackson at three before a joint meeting with the Secretary, the Muggle Prime Minister, and the US Muggle President at four."
"Representatives of the Muggle Liaison Department will be involved in that meeting?"
"Yes, sir," she said with another tap. "Carlean Foote and Harry Potter. And Madam Weasley, as head of the Liaison office, will of course be attending."
"Hmmm..." Kingsley closed his eyes, templing his fingers in front of his face. "Tell you what, Margaret. Let's try to kill a few birds with one wand, shall we?"
"As always, sir," Margaret said. Kingsley Shacklebolt was always one to reschedule on the fly, she had learned from years of experience.
"What's Robards's schedule before eleven-thirty?"
"The Wizengamot, of course," said Margaret, tapping her wand again. "Four cases before noon."
"Can I take a look at them?"
Margaret tore a page from the back of her notebook, swiped it quickly with her wand, and handed it over. Kingsley read down the list of cases and nodded. " Madam Weasley's schedule?"
"Nothing until noon," replied Margaret, who had access to the timetables of every member of the Ministry staff. "She's currently in her office preparing for the meetings this afternoon."
"And what about Liaison Thomas? Any pressing matters this afternoon?"
Margaret looked at Kingsley with brief confusion, then shrugged and looked back down on her notes. "Nothing that appears urgent," she said. "Just a meeting with the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee. Something about oofos, whatever they are."
"Perfect," said Kingsley, standing up and walking to the office closet. He opened the door, revealing a full-length mirror. "See if the Excuse Committee can change their meeting time and get Mr. Thomas to join us in the meeting at four. Cancel my appointment with Hermione and Gawain and move my meeting with the Obliviators into the two PM window. And order in some Indian, as well; I'm going to want lunch before my meeting with Jackson and the Muggle leaders, and my meeting with the Obliviators should be short."
"Should I reschedule your meeting with Weasley and Robards, as well, sir?"
"No need," said Kingsley, straightening his dark blue robes in the mirror and trying his best not to notice the years that were starting to pile up. His goatee had become more salt than pepper in his time as Minister and, despite his best efforts, he was starting to look a little thicker than he had during his time as Auror. Too much sitting behind a desk will do that to you, he thought morosely, even with the daily jog.
"Going somewhere?" Margaret asked.
"I'm going to sit in on the Wizengamot for a bit."
"Sir, the cases today don't require the input of the Minister..."
"I'm fully aware of that," said Kingsley, closing the closet door. "Be sure everything's in order for my meeting with Klarhed and Archote."
"Biryani or tandoori?"
"Biryani's safer," said Kingsley, opening the office door. "Less chance of offensive breath."
"I agree," Margaret said with a scribble as Kingsley closed the door behind him.
---------
Hermione Weasley, poring over her tidy desk in her just as tidy office, jerked to attention as Kingsley knocked on her open door.
"Minister Shacklebolt," said Hermione, jumping to her feet. "This is a surprise."
"It's Kingsley, Hermione, you know that," he replied.
"Oh, I know that, sir," she said quickly. "I just like to keep it formal in the office, Minister. Don't want the other employees to think that you're giving me any unfair advantages because we're friends, you know?"
"I know," said Kingsley with a wave of his hand. On her wall, a photograph of Ron, Hugo, and Rose, all clad in Cannon orange, waved back. "Am I interrupting anything?"
"Just fine-tuning the report for the President and the Prime Minister," said Hermione, motioning to a pile of parchment roughly the size of a hand-written dictionary beside her.
"I hope you have an outline written, as well?" Kingsley asked uncomfortably.
"Oh, of course," Hermione said, pulling out another twenty pages from her desk. "Three of them, actually. These treaties can be awfully technical at times, and I know the Prime Minister gets bored easily. I trust Foote's work, but I'm still not sure that Article 296B is worded quite right, so I have to re-look some things over before four."
"I'm sure they'll be just fine," said Kingsley. "Actually, can I steal you away from this for a few minutes?"
"Um, sure?" Hermione said, glancing uncertainly at the stack. "I think... Is it important? There are two or three finer points of this treaty--"
"Hermione, in all the time you've been head of the Muggle Liaison Department you've never put your signature on anything short of perfect. Your work is excellent, your employees' work is excellent."
"Well, I suppose I can skip lunch--"
"They'll be fine," Kingsley emphasized. "Walk with me."
Hermione's eyes flicked back and forth between the Minister of Magic and the pile of papers, looking like a student who knows she's handing in a Troll-Level O.W.L. Eventually, though, she stood up, grabbed a quill and parchment, and walked out of her office with Shacklebolt.
"Good morning, Minister," said various Ministry employees as the two walked through the first floor hallways. "Good morning, Minister." "Lovely day, isn't it, Minister?"
"Morning," Kingsley replied to all of them with a nod of his head as the two approached the lifts. "So how did the wedding go last weekend?"
"The what?" Hermione asked, her mind still obviously on the stack on her desk.
"Caroline's wedding," Kingsley said, pressing the Down button. "The Muggle wedding?"
"Oh, it couldn't have gone better," she replied, relaxing somewhat. "Lovely ceremony, great reception, not one slip-up."
"Even Hagrid was alright?"
"Hagrid was fine," Hermione replied as the lift's grille opened and the two squeezed their way past three wizards and a witch who stepped out with three paper airplanes behind them. "He had a few odd looks from the Muggles when they arrived, but once we told them that he had a condition they didn't stare too much. That's something you learn about Muggles, at least the polite ones: They consider it improper to ask strangers about their abnormalities."
"Level Three," the polite female voice announced to Hermione, Kingsley, and the five other Ministry employees on the elevator. "Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee."
"Well, I apologize again for my absence," said Kingsley as the grille slid open and two of the wizards were replaced by two others. "I did receive the invitation, but it just happened to fall on my mother's birthday. You understand."
Hermione, who still had to remind herself that the Minister of Magic was, along with her and Ron, one of the few wizards who knew her sister back when she was still Hermione Wilkins, smiled. "They understand, sir," she said. "And I'll be sure to extend your apology when they get back from Japan."
"Extend my apology nothing," Kingsley said with a small grin. "I'm taking the two of them out to dinner as an apology. I hope they won't mind."
"Oh, I'm sure they won't mind at all," said Hermione, just imagining how Ted and Caroline would react to a seven-course magical meal on a Minister's budget.
"Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office and Pest Advisory Bureau."
Two witches and a wizard left the lift as the grille opened, only to be replaced by two other faces that Hermione recognized. For some reason, Percy Weasley was on Level Four, along with--
"Charles!" Kingsley said, also showing his surprise.
"Kingsley, you big, bald, bastard, how are you doing?" Charlie Weasley said loudly, shaking Kingsley's hand with both of his own. Percy looked on with some trepidation as his older brother practically manhandled the Minister of Magic, but the two former members of the Order of the Phoenix were laughing boisterously as the grille closed once again.
"I was in a meeting at the Spirit Division when I ran into him," Percy said quietly to Hermione, as though trying to excuse his mere association with Charlie's rugged behavior.
"So what brings you here?" Kingsley asked Charlie. "If I had known you were coming..."
"Last-minute meeting," said Charlie, sobering up quickly. "Last-ditch meeting, actually, with Rolf."
"Is this about the Ukrainian incident?" the Minister asked.
"It is," said Charlie. "The Ukrainians keep giving me the cold shoulder, and the Romanians say their hands are tied."
"Well, you have to understand where they're coming from, Charlie," said Kingsley. "Without any proof--"
"Yeah, I know, I know," said Charlie, shaking his head. "Anyway, I thought I could get Scamander to try to talk some sense across borders, to at least investigate the damn thing."
"No luck," said Shacklebolt. It wasn't a question.
"No luck," Charlie agreed. "Scamander says that their Department's only concerned with controlling creatures within our borders, obviously, and keeping unregulated creatures out. Luckily, he believed me enough to say that he'll talk to his people, maybe keep their eyes out to make sure nothing happens on this side of the Channel."
"That's the best he can do," said Kingsley. "You know that."
"I know," Charles said.
"Level Five, Department of International Magical Co-Operation, incorporating the International Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats."
"Hey, maybe you could help," Charlie continued hopefully as the remaining wizards exited the lift. "Put a fire under their Ministries, see if they can do something more than spit on me."
"There's not much I can do personally," said Kingsley. "But I can speak to the Magical Co-Operation Department, see if they can pull some strings."
"That would be fantastic," said Charlie, slapping Kingsley on the arm. "The Czechs and the Poles should get a word, too. The Gorynyches were under their jurisdiction, they have to know who had the authority to move them across borders."
"Well, I'll see what I can do," Kingsley said, making brief note on his own parchment.
"Level Seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club, and Ludicrous Patents Office."
"And that's my stop," said Charlie as the grille slid open. "Meeting with some old Gryffindors for lunch."
"It was good seeing you again," said Kingsley with a nod. "Keep in touch."
"Definitely. Oh!" Charlie yelled as he threw his arm in front of the grille, stopping it halfway from closing. "Do you think you could get a word in about Luna Lovegood, too? She's in a lot of hot water with the Ukrainians over this, and she wouldn't be if she hadn't been doing the right thing."
"We already have people on the Lovegood case," said Kingsley. "But I can certainly give them my two cents."
"Good," said Charlie with a relieved grin that forced Hermione cover her face to hide her amusement. She had already heard plenty from Luna about her "friendly" relationship with Charlie Weasley, but the look on his face made Hermione think there might be more than mere necessity between the two of them.
"Oh!" Charlie said, once again slamming the grille open, "Perce, Hermione, I'm staying at the Burrow till tomorrow morning, and Mum's making a couple roasts for dinner. She says you and yours are invited, if you're up for it."
"I'm up for it," said Hermione. "Seven?"
"Perce?"
"Go!" Percy gave an exasperated yell. "You're running us late!"
"See you then," said Charlie with a mischievous grin, pulling his arm away and allowing the grille to finally close completely.
"I deeply apologize for my brother's behavior, Minister," Percy began spouting profusely as the lift began to once again descend. "I had a meeting with Azura, and I just couldn't get rid of him--"
"It's fine, it's fine," said Kingsley. "We're all running a little late. They'll understand."
"Who will understand, sir?" asked Hermione. "Where are we going?"
"Department of Mysteries," the cool female voice announced as the lift opened and Hermione, Kingsley, and Percy stepped out. Hermione had rarely been down here since she began her employment with the Ministry, but her stomach still tightened slightly as she saw the long, bare hallway with the black door at the end. She still vividly recalled her first time down here. Knew that she'd never forget the other side of that door, being chased by Death Eaters, including the horrific baby-faced one. The fear that had surged through her as she was separated from Ron before that purple flame of pain took her down for the count.
Gratefully, the trio turned left as they exited the lift. "Have you attended a Wizengamot hearing yet, Hermione?" Kingsley asked.
"Only two," said Hermione with a shiver, but she felt her guts relaxing as they descended the steps. "The Blurr case in '03 and the Scott case in 2012."
"Well, this will make three," said Kingsley. "Courtroom Three, yes, Percy?"
"Yes, sir," said Percy, flipping through his stack of parchment before handing one to the Minister. "Here are the details."
"Thank you," said Kingsley, his eyes running down the paper as they reached the bottom of the stairs and walked down the dungeon-like hallway.
"Is there any particular reason you wish for me to attend, sir?" asked Hermione.
"Various reasons," said Kingsley, handing her the report. "First off, the case does have some personal bearing."
Hermione saw the name at the top of the list, and her eyes widened. "Parkinson? Pansy Parkinson?"
"Finnigan's spoken with your family, correct?" Kingsley asked. "About Carrow, Parkinson, and Bletchley?"
"He mentioned Carrow escaped," said Hermione, "and that he was still a threat, but he didn't say anything about Parkinson or Bletchley."
"I suppose he wouldn't," said Kingsley as they reached Chamber Three. "They were already in our custody at the time, and he only wanted to alert you about the clear and present danger of the situation. Anyway, I thought perhaps you might want to sit in on this one. Maybe give some testimony as to the character of the witness if the Wizengamot requires it."
"Gladly," said Hermione with a shudder. "I never liked her."
"But please keep it professional," Percy injected as he opened the large oak door. "She has Zabini in her defense, and he's liable to jump on you if you start badgering her."
"Of course," said Hermione, not really surprised. Blaise Zabini, another Slytherin in their year, had gone on to become one of the best Defenders in England. Despite, or possibly because of, his brutally high opinion of himself in his years at Hogwarts, as well as a lack of any firm family tree, Zabini had been able to avoid the Dark stigma placed on most of his fellow Slytherins following the Battle of Hogwarts, and had comfortably made the transition to the real world soon after finishing his schooling. He now commanded attention in any room he entered, and had been relatively successful when it came to social acceptance in both the Pureblood and Generalblood circles.
Hermione, however, had seen him on occasion while walking through the Ministry over the years, and still received a look from him that made her think that his acceptance of half-bloods and Muggleborns was a career choice, nothing more. Deep down, she knew he was still a Pureblood supporter through and through.
"Mr. Weasley," came a voice from the far end of the chamber as Percy entered first. "Just barely in time, I see."
"I extend my apologies for the Senior Undersecretary's delay, Your Honor," said Kingsley as he followed Percy in, Hermione trailing behind them both. "Family business that we all had to attend to."
"Oh, Minister Shacklebolt!" the elderly wizard in plum robes exclaimed, pushing himself to his feet. "I do apologize, I didn't know you were planning to attend these hearings."
"Last-minute change of plans, Robards," Kingsley said as, all around the room, fifty other witches and wizards, many in matching robes, stood in respect to Kingsley's entrance. Kingsley impatiently waved them all down. "I hope you don't mind?"
"Not at all, Minister, not at all," said Robards with a smile, shifting one chair to his left. Kingsley nodded to the elder wizard as the other members of the Wizengamot returned to their seats.
"Why don't you grab one of the spare seats over there?" Kingsley muttered to Hermione, pointing to the right side of the chamber. "And don't be afraid to ask any member of the Wizengamot for notes regarding the case."
"Yes, sir," Hermione nodded nervously, feeling everyone's eyes on her. "Thank you, sir." She slid her way to the side where Kingsley had pointed out, sitting down beside a plump witch with long black hair. Across the room, Hermione noticed Seamus Finnigan among the spectators, and he nodded briefly to her before returning his attention to the floor. Seated beside Seamus was Tiberius Ogden, Headmaster of Hogwarts and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, who also acknowledged her appearance with a small wave.
Kingsley ascended the small staircase and sat down in the chair previously occupied by Robards. Percy seated himself to the Minister's right, and the three Ministry officials spent a few moments adjusting their paperwork before Shacklebolt turned to Robards.
"Is the accused ready, Mr. Robards?"
"She is, Minister Shacklebolt," said Robards, picking up a gavel and banging it on the table twice. Within seconds, the large oak doors opened once again.
It had been years since Hermione had last seen Pansy Parkinson, and very little had changed. Still hard-faced, with an expression that looked like someone had stuck a Dungbomb up her nose, Hermione was amazed to see that the chained, prison-grey-clad woman now walking into the chamber had barely aged at all. Looking closer to twenty than thirty-nine, Hermione wondered how many anti-aging spells and potions Pansy had to be using on a consistent basis to retain that look, and just how much damage was being done with that kind of assault on her biological systems.
Pansy was flanked by two tough-looking Azkaban Aurors as she took her seat in the straight-backed chair. One of Minister Shacklebolt's first decisions upon taking office was to remove the unpredictable Dementors from their duties at the wizard prison. The move was roundly criticized by many of Shacklebolt's opponents, but Kingsley argued that Dementors had been proven unreliable at best, not only in their allegiance to the Death Eaters in the Second War, but in the Black, Crouch, and Umbridge cases previous. At worst they were inhumane, causing many Azkaban prisoners to die of depression and starvation by their mere presence, and often attacking and Kissing innocent witches and wizards without provocation.
In the end the Minister, with assistance from the Being Division, won out. After their removal from Azkaban, the question became what to do with them, as they could not be destroyed. It was decided, after much research, to place the horrifying creatures in a series of vaults below Gringotts, where their multiplication was kept in check through a series of safeguards, which included strategic uses of Fiendfyre and other eternal flames along with magically looped polka music and photographs of kittens playing with Christmas wrapping.
Next came replacing the Dementors in Azkaban while still making the prison both intimidating and impenetrable. Refortifying the magical barriers around the prison was the easy part. The difficult task came in finding witches and wizards to become the first human prison guards in centuries. It was difficult enough finding qualified Aurors before the Second War. Guarding Azkaban prison forced the Department to effectively double their staff in a world where unemployed witches and wizards were thin on the ground.
Since the initial expansion, a new Office was created within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to specifically deal with the Azkaban guards and with other various protective hexes surrounding the prison, but opponents of the change continued to that day to argue that guarding the prison with wizards not only thinned the ranks of effective Aurors and Hit Wizards in other areas of England, but only increased the chances of criminal insurgency within the prison, giving the prisoners a hope and vigor that Dementors would have naturally dampened.
Hermione, having met Dementors personally on many occasions, silently wished for the opponents to shut the hell up.
Kingsley nodded to Robards, who balanced his glasses on the tip of his nose and read: "Criminal hearing of the third of July, two thousand and nineteen, into offences committed under the Acts of the Ministry of Magic by Pansy Parkinson, resident at Bletchley Mansion, Nottingham, Nottinghamshire.
"Interrogators: Kingsley Johnathan Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic; Gawain Lancelot Robards, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Percy Ignatius Weasley, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court scribe is Terrence Zellman and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot is Professor Tiberius Ogden.
"Miss Parkinson," Robards continued, glancing down at her through his reading glasses, "do you have a representative to speak in your defense?"
"She does, your honor," announced tall, rail-thin black wizard with a gaunt face and thinning, closely-cropped hair, who stood up from a bench which sat along the inside of the circle of risers. "Witness for the defense, Blaise Titus Zabini."
"Very well," said Robards, making a note on his parchment. "Miss Parkinson, you have been charged with conspiracy to commit murder, conspiracy to kidnap, conspiracy to resurrect, conspiracy to desecrate human remains, and resisting arrest on the evening of June twenty-fourth. Do you understand the charges laid against you?"
"Yes," Pansy said shortly.
"How do you plead to these charges?"
"Not guilty," Pansy replied with a demeaning sniff.
"Mr. Robards, Minister Shacklebolt, members of the Wizengamot," Zabini boomed. "Before we continue with this travesty of a trial--"
"Oh, here we go," the witch sitting beside Hermione muttered. "Zabini's at it again."
"--I formally request an immediate termination of these proceedings."
"On what grounds?" asked Percy.
"Where to begin?" Zabini said with a sigh of martyrdom as he flipped through his stack of parchment. "We could start with the highly illegal actions of the Ministry throughout this entire case, illegal actions that should easily result in throwing out any of the so-called witness testimony for the prosecution."
"Illegal in what way?" asked Robards.
"Illegal in regards to the action of their embedded agent, of course," said Zabini calmly. "You would agree that you have one Reginald Deepneau in Ministry custody, correct?"
"Had him in custody," said Robards. "Thanks to evidence brought to light through this very investigation, Mr. Deepneau has since been extradited to Warsaw, where he faces first-degree murder charges in the death of Doctor Jakob Rosen."
"So you would agree that Deepneau was in your custody at the time--"
"Mr. Zabini, as exciting as your long-winded tales of mystery are," Percy sighed, "if you could just please get on with it."
"Of course, Mr. Undersecretary," said Zabini, a flicker of distaste flashing across his eyes as he looked at Percy. "I speak of course of the Imperius Curse used by the Ministry on Mr. Deepneau in order to infiltrate this harmless gathering--"
Zabini continued to talk, but his words were buried by the uproar from the surrounding Wizengamot. Almost a dozen strokes from Robards' gavel were needed before the crowd once again calmed itself.
"These are quite serious allegations, Mr. Zabini," said Robards.
"And completely unfounded," said Kingsley. "Under my administration, the Ministry never has, and never will use, the Imperius Curse."
"Minister Shacklebolt, I mean no disrespect to you and your administration," said Blaise. "However, I must argue that Auror Seamus Finnigan has used questionable methods many times in the past--"
"But not the Imperius Curse," Finnigan interrupted from the side. "Minister Shacklebolt, you have been given the background information regarding the case and regarding our--"
"--Used questionable methods in the past," Zabini loudly interrupted. "And in this case, he went over your head, Mr. Minister. There was no Polyjuice involved, and Transfiguration doesn't alter the target's voice. Owing to the harsh treatment that he's received since, one would assume that Mr. Deepneau didn't simply play the patsy for a smaller sentence, which would lead me to only one conclusion: that he was Imperiused on the evening of June twenty-fourth."
"Mr. Minister, Mr. Robards," Finnigan said loudly, "you have received background information regarding this case and regarding our man on the inside."
"I have," said Robards.
"And you have the full understanding that the Imperius Curse was never used," Finnigan continued, "nor was Mr. Deepneau ever treated unduly while in our custody. In addition, you understand the sensitive nature of the agent's situation, and how we cannot reveal his identity or the nature of his infiltration."
"Indeed," said Mr. Robards. "Mr. Zabini, your request has been denied, and we will continue with the case." Blaise threw a look of frustration at Gawain, but subsided. "Miss Parkinson," Robards continued, "our Ministry representative claims that on the evening of July twenty-fourth you, along with Mr. Miles Bletchley and Mr. Antaeus Carrow, did willfully and eagerly discuss the resurrection of the late Tom Marvolo Riddle, more commonly known as Lord Voldemort."
A small shudder passed through the Wizengamot, Hermione noticed. Despite the Ministry's insistence that the name Voldemort was no longer Taboo, and despite the fact that most who fought in the Second Battle considered it no longer unacceptable to say anything but "You-Know-Who," many elder witches and wizards still felt a slight twinge whenever Riddle's alias was spoken.
"In discussing the particulars of this resurrection," Robards continued, unmindful of the small commotion around him, "you, along with Mr. Bletchley and Mr. Carrow, conspired to not only desecrate the remains of the late Vincent Arnold Crabbe; the late Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore; and the previously named Tom Marvolo Riddle; but to kidnap and murder Professor Neville Franklin Longbottom; Mr. Harry James Potter; Mrs. Hermione Jean Weasley, née Granger; and Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley; as well as to kidnap and perform illegal hexes on Mrs. Ginevra Potter and three minors who shall go unnamed in the court record due to privacy laws."
As Hermione heard the names listed off, her own included, she felt a swell of anger in her throat. Seamus had not given any of them specific details of the Death Eater's supposed plans, but to hear Gawain list off not only the list of those responsible for the destruction of Voldemort's horcruxes, but to say that there were plans to do something to Ginny and the children? She heard the witch beside her mumble "terrible, terrible," and she couldn't help but agree.
"Miss Parkinson," said Robards, looking down at the woman in the middle of the chamber. "Do you deny that you participated in these discussions?"
Pansy opened her mouth to respond, but Blaise put a hand on her shoulder. "While Madam Parkinson does not deny that these discussions took place in her general vicinity," he stated coolly, "she would state that her part in the conversation was little to none, and that she, at no point, threatened the lives of any of the previously named victims, nor did she ever agree to this supposed resurrection of Mr. Riddle."
"So, then," said Percy, adjusting his own glasses as he looked down at his parchment, "when the defendant stated, quote, 'Are you telling me that I have a reason to kill that' expletive deleted 'Granger after all these years?', she wasn't threatening murder?"
"Of course not," said Zabini simply.
"And when she went on to say 'Please tell me I get to kill Granger, please, please,' and so on, she also wasn't threatening murder?"
"Anyone who knows Madam Parkinson," Zabini explained, "would know of her school-age rivalry with the then Miss Hermione Granger. They would understand the mutual enmity between the two women, and how often words of childhood hatred were exchanged between them as well as their friends. And while I will agree that childish pranks were played on both Madam Parkinson and Mrs. Weasley, nee Granger, by House associates, at no point did the two ever so much as hurl a single Tripping Jinx at each other. Would you agree with this statement, Mrs. Weasley?" At this point Blaise pivoted on his heel and turned in Hermione's direction.
For her part, as she saw and felt the eyes of the collective Wizengamot turn towards her, Hermione kept her cool. "This is true, Mr. Zabini," she said, her voice barely trembling with anger. Because it was true. She and Pansy had hated each other, loathed each other, in their time at Hogwarts, and had screamed more than one insult at each other across the Great Hall, but they had never once drawn wands face-to-face. Pansy had been much happier allowing Draco and his goons, and even Millicent Bulstrode, to do her dirty work.
"This was twenty years ago," Blaise continued to the Wizengamot. "Twenty years changes most of us. We would all agree that, as children, we were far more likely to actually follow through on our disagreements with wand and fist than we are today. We may still speak ill of those we grew up with. I do, and I am sure there is not one in this courtroom who would say differently of their own experiences. But if Madam Parkinson kept her hand away from her wand when she was fifteen, surely she would keep it away now twenty years later, having completely written Mrs. Weasley from her life after all these decades. These words that you're quoting, Mr. Undersecretary, were mere bluster from an older, wiser witch, and no more. Please be aware, as well, that Madam Parkinson had consumed numerous alcoholic beverages leading up to the conversation, which would easily lead to looser, more boisterous talk."
"Fairly thin reasoning," the witch beside Hermione murmured.
"But reasoning nonetheless," said Hermione glumly. "May I borrow your copy of the transcript, please?"
The witch nodded, and handed Hermione a few pages of dialogue. She quickly skimmed through the unimportant bits, the conversation between Teddy, Pansy, and the two Death Eaters during their card game, until she found the pertinent information regarding the resurrection of Voldemort.
Sure enough, Pansy never once stated that she was going to kill Hermione, only that she desired to. And she never stated any other names while she was talking. Carrow had said a lot, Bletchley had said a lot, but, while Pansy never argued against the murder, she never once explicitly volunteered to kill, desecrate, or to even take part in the resurrection. And with no physical evidence supporting the conspiracy, her words were all that could be used to convict her, and her words could, yes, easily be construed as the empty bellowings of a witch who had been drinking for hours.
Robards continued nonetheless: "And her verbal concurrence with Mr. Carrow when he stated that he would, quote, 'gladly sacrifice myself in order for the Dark Lord to regain power'?"
"Madam Parkinson's political and ethical stances have little to do with this case," Blaise breezed. "We could stand here all day and argue what we consider right and wrong, or to argue whether one agreed with Tom Riddle or not. But stating that we would gladly give our life to bring another back is not exclusive to purebloods, halfbloods, or Muggleborns. It certainly doesn't mean that we're going to go through with it, and it is certainly not illegal to state such wishes aloud."
A brief silence fell over the chamber as Robards and Weasley adjusted their papers. Kingsley glanced between the two of them to see if either of them wished to speak, before entering the conversation himself. "Miss Parkinson," he asked, "what is your relationship with Mr. Antaeus Carrow?"
"Very brief," Pansy replied, the first time she had spoken since entering her plea.
"And with Mr. Reginald Deepneau?"
"Madam Parkinson had interacted with them both in the past," said Blaise. "But all of the occasions were very formal, very public and, again, very brief."
"So you had no idea that you were playing Watch Me with two wizards wanted by the Ministry for various violent crimes against both wizards and Muggles?"
"Newspapers bore me," said Pansy with a shrug.
"So you've never been involved with any of their illicit activities?"
"Never."
"Please do remember," Blaise said, "that Madam Parkinson has never once been charged for any crime in the past. Twenty years without so much as a broomstick moving violation or an unleashed shih tzu."
"And your phrase," Kingsley looked down at his parchment, "'I've disemboweled men for less?'"
"Never caught me," Pansy said with a withering smile.
"More bluster," Blaise added quickly, throwing a reproachful look at Pansy.
"Then why run?" asked Tiberius from the side. "If you believe, as you say, that you had done nothing illegal, and that you had no reason to be arrested, why did you evade Auror custody?"
"Intimidation, of course," said Blaise. "As you've said, Antaeus Carrow was a violent criminal. Madam Parkinson and Mr. Bletchley may not have understood this before your agent was found out, but once Carrow reacted in the way that he did, they were terrified. When he told them to run, they felt they had no choice. To not do what the maniac ordered would be to risk their own lives."
There were mutters of agreement throughout the room. From all accounts of Antaeus Carrow that night, and of his violent history, of course Pansy and Miles would have felt their own lives were in peril. Hermione flipped through the pages of the transcript, which unfortunately ended at that point. Whatever listening devices had been planted on Teddy or on the room, they obviously hadn't picked up any of the conversation after the four had Apparated.
Wait a minute...
"Besides," Pansy interjected, despite Blaise's harsh glance, "how could we know they were Aurors? We thought they might have been Oligarchy. Of course we'd run."
"Oligarchy?" asked Percy, looking around the room in confusion. "What's that?" Finnigan stared at the ceiling in exasperation; Kingsley and Robards, however, both pushed themselves forward in chairs with interest.
"Who are the Oligarchy, Miss Parkinson?" Robards asked, his quill poised and ready.
"Hell if I know," said Pansy, attempting to cross her arms, which were held immoble by the chains on her chair. "All I know is that they keep going after old Death Eaters and their families, and that if they want to kill you, you're dead. We didn't want to be the next ones on their hit list, is all."
"And why would you believe they were targeting you?" Gawain continued.
"Doesn't matter, really," said Pansy with growing anger. "If you know you're a target, you don't really care why. Maybe they decided the War's not over yet, that things hadn't evened up after the death of the Dark Lord. Talk to any of your old DA mates lately, Granger? Finnigan?" Pansy looked right and looked left at the old Gryffindors. "Maybe someone you know decide they want to kick us while we're down? Or maybe one of Minister Shacklebolt's friends in the Order of the Phoenix think there aren't enough Death Eater graves to piss on?"
"Order! Order!" Robards howled as the Wizengamot exploded with reproachful murmurs. "Miss Parkinson, if you would please be respectful--"
"She is being as respectful as she can be," Zabini stated quickly, "considering the nature of her world. History, as you know, is written by the winners. As such, Madam Parkinson's family and friends have been painted with the same brush, whether they deserve it or not. This, however, only fortifies her innocence, as you can obviously understand why she would feel her life was threatened. As you can clearly understand," Zabini continued, pacing the circle with his hands clasped behind his back, "Madam Parkinson has no history of past violence, no reason to suspect that she was ever involved in any illicit activity, and any plans for murder, for kidnapping, and certainly for performing dark, dark magic to resurrect the dead would be the furthest thing from her mind. Furthermore, the threat on her life, both by the assault from outside and from the sudden threats from Mr. Carrow, would cause her and Mr. Bletchley to flee the scene without considering the consequences.
"As such, I would ask at this time that the Wizengamot think clearly, and logically, about this case and to vote Madam Parkinson not guilty on all charges."
"Very well," Robards said with a sigh. "If there are no further questions--"
"Actually," said Hermione, forcing herself to her feet, "I do have one more question to ask."
Hermione tried, with force of will, to keep her face from reddening as the collective Wizengamot turned their attention once again to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Robards and Kinglsey exchange a look. Kingsley nodded to Robards, and Hermione swore she could see the hint of a smile cross his face.
"The chair recognizes Hermione Jean Weasley," Robards announced to the Wizengamot and to the court scribe, "Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Muggle Liaison Office."
"Thank you, Mr. Robards," said Hermione, who took a look around the Wizengamot. Although it was difficult to tell without an actual hand count, the expressions she saw on the faces of the court's members made her believe that Zabini may have instilled enough reasonable doubt to let Pansy off.
You get one shot at this, she thought. Make it count.
She turned to Pansy, who was looking back at her with an arched eyebrow, took a deep breath, and put on her sweetest smile. "Hullo, Pansy," she said as politely as possible.
"Hullo, Granger," Pansy said flatly.
"Actually, it's Weasley now," Hermione corrected, "as you've probably heard during these proceedings."
"So I have..."
"Miss Parkinson--"
"It's Bletchley, actually," Pansy said. "We just haven't gotten around to filing the paperwork."
"Miles is your husband, then?" Hermione said conversationally.
"Glad to see that amazing brain of yours is still working, Granger," Pansy said with a roll of her eyes.
"Mrs. Weasley," Blaise sharply interrupted, "if you could please get on with whatever it is you're going to say. Time is money, and we all have to get on with our lives."
"Yes, of course," Hermione said, setting down her paperwork. "Miss Park-- Mrs. Bletchley, if I recall, you were never very good at Apparition, were you?"
"Back then, yeah," Pansy replied cautiously.
"If I remember, while you didn't leave entire limbs behind, you'd often land in completely different parts of the room. You left hair behind, a finger once or twice--"
"I might have," said Pansy. "What of it?"
"You had to take your test three times, didn't you?" Hermione continued. "First time you failed you ended up a half mile away from the target, and the second time--"
"Don't you try it, Granger," Pansy snarled.
"You left your brassiere at the testing location, didn't you?"
Several members of the Wizengamot did their best to retain their professionalism by covering their snorts of laughter with their hands. Hermione caught a glimpse of Seamus across from her, and he also looked as though he was containing his absolute elation at the memory of their Apparition test.
Blaise, however, wasn't quite as amused, and his client looked absolutely livid. "Mr. Minister," Blaise pleaded angrily, "I vehemently oppose this line of questioning. Mrs. Weasley is making a mockery of my client--"
"You stated yourself that we're allowed to think ill of our childhood rivals," Shacklebolt replied. "But I will accept your request. Madam Weasley, if you could please stay with the subject at hand."
"Of course, Minister," Hermione said, turning back to Pansy, whose face was turning purple in its rage. "So, Mrs. Bletchley, you do admit, then, that you were never very good at Apparition."
"Obviously," Pansy said between clenched teeth.
"I assume, with a history like that, you haven't gotten any better?" Hermione continued.
"I can handle myself..."
"So you don't have to do Side-Alongs?" Hermione pressed. "Don't have to grab a hold of your husband if you want to go from place to place?"
"Of course not!"
"You've never had to Side-Along..."
"Never!"
"And you didn't Side-Along when you escaped the Aurors?"
"No, I didn't!"
"Then how did you follow Antaeus to where he was Apparating?"
The silence that fell over the Wizengamot was deafening. Pansy Parkinson-Bletchley, her face all shades of color, hung her mouth open as she searched for an answer.
"Minister Shacklebolt!" Zabini yelled frantically. "Mr. Robards! This line of questioning is completely irrelevant to the--"
"Motion denied," Robards interrupted. "Miss Parkinson, can you answer the question?"
"Pansy," Hermione continued as Pansy sat silently, "your defense claims that you barely knew Mr. Carrow and Mr. Deepneau, having only met them once or twice, briefly, and in very public and very innocent gatherings. However, on the night of June twenty-fourth, you were rudely interrupted during a so-called harmless meeting by our Aurors. Mr. Carrow snapped, and ordered you and Mr. Bletchley to escape using only two words: 'Hideout. Now.'"
"Minister Shacklebolt!" Blaise roared.
"Now how would you know how to get to Mr. Carrow's hideout, Pansy?" Hermione asked. "If you had only met him once or twice, with absolutely no knowledge of his illegal activites. Unless you were an extremely gifted Legilimens that could read Mr. Carrow's thoughts the moment before he Apparated, you wouldn't have any idea that he would even have a hiding place, an unused section of sewer, packed to the ceiling with all manner of dangerous Dark objects and texts. Not exactly a place for an innocent, high-society woman as yourself, and certainly not the location of one of your brief, public, innocent meetings."
"Minister Shacklebolt, if you will--"
"Mr. Zabini, you will be quiet and let Miss Parkinson answer the question!" Shacklebolt yelled.
"He said two words, Pansy," said Hermione, leaning forward now, smelling blood. "The serial murderer Antaeus Carrow ordered you and your husband with two words. 'Hideout. Now.' How would you know how to get to Carrow's dark, dank, mouldy hideout unless you had been there before? How would you be able to get through the various protective barriers without having clearance from Mr. Carrow himself? How would you know it as the hideout unless you had used it on numerous occasions as a hideout of your own? Reading the texts, studying the Dark instruments, maybe using them to, what was the phrase, 'disembowel men'? Torture wizards? Maybe kill Muggles for sport?"
"Minister Shacklebolt, Mrs. Weasley is badgering the witness..."
"All that and more!" Pansy screamed into the echoing chamber. "You want to be next, Mudblood?"
The previous explosion was nothing compared to the roar that erupted among the Wizengamot as Pansy screamed at Hermione, straining against the chains as she hurled more and more profanity at the Muggle-born. Robards was furiously pounding his gavel on the table to restore order while Blaise, using an impressively booming voice, was able to speak even above the apoplectic crowd.
"Minister Shacklebolt," he yelled. "My client has obviously been placed under the Imperius Curse by Mr. Antaeus Carrow and has no knowledge of what occurred the night of the crime. For all we know, she could be under the Curse still--"
"I've had enough of that, Mr. Zabini," said Kingsley, and his deep bass voice echoing over the chamber was enough to calm the crowd to a dull babble. "While Mr. Zabini argued that Miss Parkinson could never be believed when she stated her threats on the night of June twenty-fourth, Madam Weasley, and Madam Parkinson herself, have given ample evidence to the contrary. Miss Parkinson's associations with murderers and criminals, her knowledge of Mr. Carrow's hideout, and her obvious instability and hatred towards Madam Weasley and Muggle-borns in general, would certainly leave the impression that murder, torture, and kidnapping are well within her moral and physical limits. Indeed, she very well could have performed such acts in the past despite her unblemished public record, and I will personally make sure that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement re-evaluates past cold cases with this in mind.
"The Wizengamot will now give their vote with a show of hands. Those who find Miss Pansy Parkinson not guilty on the charges of conspiracy to commit murder, conspiracy to kidnap, conspiracy to resurrect, conspiracy to desecrate human remains, and resisting arrest?"
Hermione looked around the room. Not one hand was raised.
"And those who find Miss Pansy Parkinson guilty on the read charges?"
Every hand in the room rose. Pansy, who was still frothing at the mouth and staring at Hermione, seemed to be pulled to reality at the sight of all of the hands.
"Miss Pansy Parkinson," announced Gawain Robards. "The Wizengamot finds you guilty on the charges of--"
"No, wait!" Pansy yelled, straining against her chains. "Wait! I can't-- I can't go to prison! I can't! I didn't--"
"--to kidnap, conspiracy to resurrect--"
"It was Miles!" she screamed desperately. "It was all him! He brought me there, he was the one who wanted to kill everyone and bring back the Dark Lord! He broke Reggie's wand! It wasn't meee!"
"This court will reconvene tomorrow morning in order to deliberate the sentence for Miss Parkinson," said Robards. "In the meantime she will be returned to Azkaban--"
"Please, I'll do anything!" Pansy screamed. "I can't go back, it's so small and dirty and I'll do anything! It was Miles! All him!"
"Wait," Kingsley said, raising his hand to the Aurors as they unfastened the chains on the chair with their wands. "Miss Parkinson, am I hearing you correctly? Because it sounds to me as though you'd be perfectly willing to allow Mr. Bletchley to take the blame for all of your crimes."
"Gladly," Pansy sobbed. "Gladly, he's a criminal, and a beast, and--"
"And he's your husband," Kingsley said with an arched eyebrow. "One who, according to the transcript, you still seem very fond of. You would trade places with him?"
"I'll say anything you want," Pansy babbled as she was restrained by the two guards. "Just please, I can't go to prison, it's not fair..."
"You would give sworn testimony against your own husband to let yourself free," said Percy with an arched eyebrow. "Classy."
"Mr. Bletchley's trial is Thursday," said Robards to Shacklebolt. "We might want to consider her offer."
"We'll consider it," Shacklebolt said doubtfully. "Guards, take her back to Azkaban until sentencing tomorrow."
"No!" Pansy screamed as the guards dragged her from the chamber. "No, not yet, I said I'd--" The door slammed shut on the three, cutting of Pansy's howlings and leaving the Wizengamot looking around at each other in bemusement.
"This case will reconvene at ten AM on July fourth. The Wizengamot and the interrogators will now have a ten minute break before bringing in the next case." Robards swung his gavel down once, and the Wizengamot and audience began a low conversational rumble as they stood, stretched, and otherwise meandered around the chamber. Hermione saw both Seamus and Tiberius descending the stairs to cross over to her. She moved to do the same, but saw that Kingsley, Robards, and Percy were all walking in her direction with smiles on their faces.
"Wonderful interrogation, Madam Weasley," said Robards, taking Hermione's hand in his own dry, wrinkled one and shaking it heartily. "Simply wonderful."
"Um, thank you, sir," Hermione said carefully as she suddenly found herself surrounded by the Ministry men. "Honestly, though, it seemed like an obvious route to take, I assumed someone else would have--"
"Now, now, you don't have to be so modest," said Robards with a shake of his head. "Sometimes it's best to play on the emotions, just so long as it doesn't get too out of hand."
"That... That wasn't out of hand?" Hermione asked, still seeing Pansy's screaming face in her memory.
"I've been the Head of Magical Law Enforcement for over twenty years, Madam Weasley," said Robards. "Believe me when I say that that," he tilted his head towards the now vacated chair, "was nothing."
"So what do you think, Gawain?" asked Kingsley cryptically. "Are you still on board?"
"Quite, quite," Robards nodded.
"Percy?"
"An excellent choice, Minister," said Percy, adjusting his glasses. "I couldn't think of anyone better."
Kingsley shot a look at both Seamus and Tiberius who both nodded. "I've been saying it from day one, Kingsley, you know that," Seamus added.
Hermione looked upon these exchanges with more than a little confusion. "What's going on?"
"Hermione," said Kingsley formally, but with a growing smile, "I'd like you and Mr. Robards to arrange a series of meetings in the next few months--"
"For?"
"I've served this Ministry proudly for fifty years," Gawain explained. "The last twenty of which I replaced the esteemed Pius Thicknesse who, before being Imperiused by Voldemort's agents, served this court nobly following the death of Amelia Bones. But my energies are waning. It's about time to hand off my gavel."
"Hermione Weasley," said Kingsley to Hermione's widening eyes and hanging jaw, "I'd like to offer you a new position..."
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