Harry had never imagined that entering the Ministry of Magic would be done in such a ridiculous way.
After Snape dialed a sequence of numbers, a cold female voice echoed inside the telephone box. Following a brief interrogation, two silver visitor badges clattered out of the slot.
Once they pinned them on, the telephone box shuddered and began to descend like a lift. Down they went, deeper and deeper, until at last the doors opened into a dazzling golden hall.
The dark blue wooden floor gleamed beneath a peacock-blue ceiling. Golden symbols drifted lazily through the air. Along the walls stood rows of fireplaces, wizards stepping in and out of green flames in a constant stream. Harry immediately remembered how he had once tumbled into Knockturn Alley the previous summer.
"Stay close," Snape said curtly as he moved forward into the crowd. "If you get lost, I will not retrieve you from Security."
Harry hurried after him.
They passed a grand fountain. At its base shimmered heaps of silver Sickles and bronze Knuts. A plaque beside it read that all proceeds from the fountain supported St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
If Sirius were freed and Peter Pettigrew locked away for life, Harry decided he would toss ten Galleons into it himself.
"Two visitors. Invited to observe the proceedings in Courtroom Six."
Snape placed a parchment on the desk before a young wizard seated there.
"Wands, please… Merlin's beard. Harry Potter!"
The man had looked bored moments earlier. Now his eyes bulged as he stared at the name on the parchment. His gaze snapped upward and locked onto Harry.
"You're Harry Potter."
"I… I am," Harry replied, startled by the sudden change.
The wizard seized his hand enthusiastically, pumping it up and down.
"The Boy Who Lived! I grew up hearing about you. Could I get your autograph?"
Harry blinked.
Did this man realize their respective ages? He looked well into his twenties.
But in fairness, eleven years ago the wizard had likely been a student. Harry's name had shaken the entire magical world.
The excited shout had drawn attention. Within seconds, the registration area turned into a Harry Potter fan gathering. Wizards and witches crowded around him. Some wanted autographs, some photographs. Others merely wanted to brush against him, perhaps hoping to borrow a bit of his luck.
Harry shot a desperate look at Snape.
Snape stood off to the side, arms folded, watching coldly.
Only when the time grew short did he push through the crowd, seize Harry by the arm, and drag him free.
"The trial is about to begin. Do not waste our time."
"Yes, Professor Snape," the registration wizard said nervously under Snape's glare, fumbling to begin wand checks.
Years ago, Snape had been his professor as well. Old fear resurfaced instantly.
Harry hurried through security and officially entered the Ministry. Before he could breathe properly, Snape's voice sliced into him again.
"Potter, do you enjoy being adored so much?"
"At Hogwarts they are accustomed to your mediocrity. Perhaps you prefer the outside world. My apologies, did I interrupt your moment?"
"Not at all, Professor," Harry replied with a polite smile. "They're simply happy You-Know-Who is gone. Though it's impressive you remain so… memorable among students."
When Harry was in form, he could match Snape's sarcasm blow for blow.
Snape shot him a venomous look. It was the holidays, however. Most of his usual punishments were unavailable. He silently added the insult to a growing ledger of future grievances.
They traded barbs until they reached the courtroom level.
The air there was damp and cold. Harry's bravado faded. A nervous silence settled over him.
Snape pushed open a heavy black door.
The courtroom was tiered like a theatre. The entrance was at the very top. Benches descended in steps toward the center. Many seats were already filled, especially the first three rows. Cameras gleamed in eager hands.
"Are there really this many newspapers in Britain?" Harry muttered.
Aside from the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, and a few others, he had no idea.
"Many were invited from abroad," Snape murmured without moving his lips. "Fudge wants attention."
They took seats midway down in a less crowded section.
"I will be called as a witness," Snape said quietly. "No matter what you hear, keep your mouth shut."
Harry opened his mouth to object.
Snape's gaze turned lethal.
"That message is from Dumbledore. Personally, I would prefer Black remain in Azkaban forever. If you feel the same, by all means, speak freely."
"I understand," Harry muttered, shrinking slightly.
He did not fully grasp the dangers of courtrooms. He did not know how far people might go to twist testimony or provoke reactions.
After about ten minutes, the chamber fell silent.
A side door opened below.
A group of officials entered.
At the front walked Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic. Beside him strode a stern grey-haired woman and a broad-shouldered man with a mane of hair like a lion.
Behind them followed more than a dozen witches and wizards in deep purple robes, older, dignified, carrying an air of authority.
Harry watched as the grey-haired woman took the central seat of the panel. Fudge and the lion-like man sat on either side of her. The others filled the rows closest to where the accused would stand.
The trial was about to begin.