As it turned out, there was something to see.
True, for this I had to use spiders, having previously settled in an armchair in the common room. I must have looked quite a sight—sitting there, legs crossed, head propped on my hand, staring into space with a thoughtful look like some ruler—posture and certain motor skills due to elf shards and long training make themselves felt. Hmm... If everyone around knew that during such "sittings on the throne" I receive information from all over Hogwarts...
In general, the situation was as follows. Because of the cancellation of the Quidditch game, everyone suddenly had nothing to do, but at the same time it was terribly interesting what was happening in the castle, how giving testimonies was going in a couple of classrooms temporarily occupied by Aurors, and what was going on in Umbridge's chambers and office, where this pink toad was escorted in the company of Amelia Bones for a search of property and other procedures. And if everyone sooner or later will find out everything about giving testimonies, because rumors have a habit of spreading faster than the speed of light, then about the search...
Aurors led Umbridge into the office and began to carefully induce chaos, turning everything upside down under the careful guidance of Madam Bones, and even plates with kittens did not escape the fate of being taken off the walls and checked for the most diverse magic.
Madam Bones waved her wand towards Umbridge, and judging by the result, she removed Silencio.
"How dare you!!!" Umbridge yelled in a squeaky voice, almost swelling with anger.
"Everything that our duty requires of us," Bones answered imperturbably.
Still, she is a strict lady, and slightly angular and sharp facial features coupled with a hairstyle in the form of a tight bun at the back of the head only emphasized some severity and a feeling of hopelessness that should appear in detainees. However, you can't get through to Umbridge with this, and she is on edge right now.
"Do you even understand who you are detaining, and even in such a rude manner?!" Umbridge continued to be indignant, having lost all her feigned sugary friendliness. "Mr. Cornelius, for a minute, our Minister for Magic, will not leave this matter just like that!!!"
On the last word she even squealed, bringing the volume and tone of her voice almost to ultrasound.
I sat in the armchair in the common room, watched this picture from a spider and smiled.
"Unfortunately for you, accused Umbridge," Bones even smirked, "neither you nor Mr. still-Minister Fudge possesses either diplomatic immunity or inviolability. And even more so you are not beyond the jurisdiction of a court."
"Is this a rebellion against the authorities?!" Umbridge squealed once again, but didn't try to break out—Aurors firmly held her by the arms and were ready to use magic at any moment.
"Not at all."
"You," Umbridge turned her head to one Auror, looking from the bottom up, then to another. "Release me immediately. I—am an official representative of the Minister for Magic and the Ministry as a whole! If you do not obey, you will fly out of work with a wolf ticket—you won't even have time to say 'Lumos'!"
"I would worry in your place that the Aurors and DMLE employees present here are one way or another relatives of children whom you subjected to torture and inflicted bodily magical injuries through Dark Magic."
Aurors nodded confirming, staring at Umbridge with their most severe look, while two DMLE employees continued the search, thereby bringing more and more chaos to this terrible, sugary-pink room.
"Also," Bones smirked, "I recommend that you think about what you will say during the trial. Although, why am I, really? After all, Mr. Scrimgeour has already signed permission for interrogation during the trial using Veritaserum. Got excited, you can not think."
One of the DMLE employees finished with turning the guts of Umbridge's desk inside out.
"Madam Bones," he addressed the head of the DMLE.
"Yes, Myers?" she turned around, without looking waving her wand, launching Silencio at Umbridge.
"You should take a look."
Madam Bones approached Myers, and he pointed to two dozen carefully folded letters, a casket with a Blood Quill and a couple of small dark green pot-bellied vials.
"What's here?"
"Correspondence with the Minister, if believe the top letter," Myers answered cheerfully, and nodded at the casket, at the same time holding a wand in his hands and clearly bursting to do something. "Blood Quill. Non-standard. Homemade. Not very high-quality Dark Artifact. Multiple traces of use are felt."
"What's in the vials?"
"Hard to say right away," Myers doubted his words slightly. "Considering the extremely small volume of one unit, lack of smell, transparency and, surely, lack of taste, ready to bet that it's either Veritaserum or Draught of Living Death. I can't think of an application for the latter within the school, unless Umbridge wants to kill everyone here. But the first..."
"Excellent," Bones nodded. "Prepare the evidence. This, coupled with statements, medical examinations and testimonies of victims with Veritaserum will be enough."
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed how Herbert returned to the common room. Breaking connection with the spider, I addressed the guy:
"You're fast."
"Huh?" he looked at me. "Yes. Now gave testimony quickly. It seems, they are not going to drag out the trial. We will give testimony under Veritaserum already there. They even already took permission from parents and discussed questions. I didn't think that DMLE can work so fast."
Herbert with a quick step went to the male wing, and literally a couple of seconds later, before I could connect back to the spiders interesting me, Madam Sprout entered the common room.
"Mr. Granger," she addressed me without the usual light and kind smile, but with worry on her face. "Get ready. In an hour we need to be at the Ministry."
"Did something happen?" I inquired, getting up from the armchair.
"Miss Abbott and you, as prefects, will be present and testify in the case."
"Clear. How much time do I have?"
"No more than twenty minutes. Will still have to wander around the Ministry itself."
Nodding, I went to my room to change into my suit of miracle-fabric, giving the whole set a strict look—black-blue business three-piece suit and dark blue strict fitted robe. Why? Well, appropriate outfit for an official event.
Seven minutes later I went down to the common room. The number of students here increased, everyone discussed something or talked to Madam Sprout, and Hannah stood next to her. Like me, she preferred a strict long black dress and the same strict and equally black robe.
"I am ready."
"Good, Mr. Granger."
Madam Sprout turned around, and being clearly thoughtful, hurried to leave the common room without even looking if Hannah and I were following her. We followed, of course. Practically silently we made our way to the Headmaster's office, but right in front of the niche, in which there was no gargoyle now, only a spiral staircase up, the Head of House began to speak.
"Try to answer honestly, without concealment," she spoke in an important and worried tone, somewhat fussily adjusting the sleeves of her robe, her hat, under which curls with frequent gray hair were almost completely hidden. "Do not give a reason to apply Veritaserum to you, because questions are not agreed upon, and improvisation in this matter—is not the best solution."
"And what about permission from parents or guardians?" Hannah asked immediately when we already started to go up the stairs.
"Your official representative, Miss Abbott, will already be present in the Wizengamot full assembly. And yours, Mr. Granger..."
Madam Sprout stopped for a second, and turned to me practically on the threshold of the office.
"...In such matters, it is Headmaster Dumbledore, under whose responsibility you are throughout the school year. I don't think he will be against it if you have nothing to hide regarding the case."
"Nothing, ma'am," I nodded, and we entered the office.
The Headmaster, as always, sat at his desk. Leaning back on the back of a rather hard but comfortable-looking chair, he looked at the other Heads of Houses and prefects—a fairly large crowd gathered.
"Ah, Pomona, you are on time," he smiled sparingly. "Now, I assume, you can go."
Glancing at other prefects and Heads of Houses, among whom only a few kept a stone face and calmness, we approached them, and Snape, as one who wished to leave this office as soon as possible, took a handful of Floo powder from a stand near the fireplace, threw it into the flames, and it became green.
"Algorithm is known to everyone, I dare to hope," Snape spoke dryly and quietly.
"Do not belittle the mental abilities of those gathered so much, Severus," McGonagall scolded him.
"Prefer to be sure of the result. Address: 'Ministry of Magic Atrium'."
He was the first to step into the fireplace and clearly, calmly pronounced:
"Ministry of Magic Atrium."
Throwing the remains of Floo powder under his feet, Snape disappeared in a green fiery whirlwind. Next went Draco with Pansy, then the tiny professor, Flitwick, with Anthony and Padma, followed by McGonagall with her wards, and only after that—we.
A moment of transfer, and here we are stepping out in the middle of a huge and extensive hall filled with hurrying wizards of all stripes. Paper airplanes scurried back and forth under extremely high arched vaults. Along the walls stretched seemingly endless rows of fireplaces with gold trim, looking bright and pretentious against the background of black walls and dark parquet underfoot. In all this crowd there was a stronghold of calmness in the person of three Heads of other Houses waiting for our appearance, to whom we approached. As for students... My peers examined everything around with great enthusiasm. Only Draco, Pansy and Hannah tried to look as calm as possible, as if a trip to the Ministry, and even more so to a Wizengamot meeting for the sake of considering a judicial proceeding that surprisingly quickly got to them—is a usual, boring and completely uninteresting matter.
"Where next?" I immediately asked a question, involuntarily taking on the burden of leadership among my peers.
A similar maneuver was independently performed by McGonagall and Snape, in gestures, movements, in the confidence of which something like that was read.
"Follow us," McGonagall threw briefly, but her voice was perfectly audible in the general hum, hubbub of conversations and rustling of clothes of other wizards.
She with Snape, like an icebreaker, confidently led us through the ranks of wizards in a direction known only to her. We kept walking, and the huge corridor with fireplaces, as well as busy wizards, did not end and did not end. Now and then fireplaces illuminated everything around with green flashes, but generally none of those present, including us, batted an eye.
Here we passed a huge hall, in the walls of which, like turrets of the same type, tightly attached to each other, grew upwards for a dozen, and sometimes more, floors, windows of offices—soft yellow light burned there. We passed one fountain with golden statues of various magical animals, passed another, already with a witch, and found ourselves in another hall—in an exact copy of the first, only statues in the next fountains were different. A couple more minutes, and we finally came to a small, compared to the halls, room. It was a dead end and ended with a crescent wall, and there, in the black stone wall, were elevator cabins. They were located as close to each other as generally possible, and instead of the blank doors usual to me there were black grilles sliding apart to the sides.
Fortunately, we all could not fit into one elevator even if we wanted to, and therefore split into two groups—with us, with Madam Sprout and Hannah, went McGonagall with Ron and Hermione.
"What do you think," Ron began to speak conspiratorially quiet. "What will happen there?"
"There will be a trial, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall answered strictly. "Do not distract the rest from reflections with your questions."
"Sorry..." the redhead apologized.
The elevator went down. It seems we are underground. Although, why do I doubt when it is so?
"I am a little worried," Hermione standing nearby complained quietly, somewhat nervously fixing a strand of hair. "It seems to me that I am inappropriately dressed."
"Hmm?" looking at sister, made sure that even though she was in jeans, a thin turtleneck and an autumn short coat, she looked quite neat.
"Depends from which side to look," I smiled encouragingly and, it seems, it helped.
"Your brother is right, Miss Granger," without turning around, continuing to stand with her back to us and facing the elevator, McGonagall nodded. "But, on the other hand, it wouldn't hurt you to become imbued with great respect for the style of clothing expected to be worn by self-respecting wizards."
The elevator stopped, grilles slid apart to the sides, and we went out into another hall with black tiles on the walls and dim, but more than sufficient bluish lighting. Next to us from the same elevator came out Professors Snape and Flitwick with their wards.
"Let's not linger," Snape began to speak dryly, and in the empty hall—there was no one besides our group here—his voice echoed dully.
Passing literally a couple of corridors, we reached a large open hall. A stone floor smooth to mirror-like with a complex geometric pattern, rows of the amphitheater going up, the chairman's podium and about a dozen and a half wizards in black robes and with diamond-shaped hats caught the eye. For now, apparently, not everyone gathered here yet.
"Follow me," Snape threw briefly, and we followed him to completely different places, more modest, more even similar to stands—just benches like an amphitheater.
There, on these benches, already sat several wizards in different clothes, animatedly, but quietly discussing something. Settling in our places, we began to wait.
Quite quickly the hall began to fill with wizards. Some of them went up to the seats to their colleagues—they were dressed just as strictly and gloomily, representatives of the Wizengamot. Others took seats among spectators, witnesses and other "rest". Here "victims" from among students began to pull up—they huddled closer to us.
Soon all seats for Wizengamot members were occupied—fifty elderly, and sometimes frankly decrepit wizards. Next to the podium of the chairman acting simply as a "host" in the case of a court hearing, was a smaller podium. Behind it, behind the second podium, stood an extremely serious-looking puny wizard with the face of a real bureaucratic rat—meticulously laid out papers, prepared writing utensils and tried to look extremely important at the same time. None other than a secretary.
Mr. Crouch, known to me, entered the hall. As before, he wore his strict dark striped business suit, the sleeves and edges of trousers of which peeked out from under a tightly wrapped black robe with white trim. With a quick step Mr. Crouch reached the chairman's podium and took a seat behind it, glancing at the papers in front of him. Exactly at the same moment Amelia Bones and another wizard, looking just as seriously as Crouch, and even adhering to the same style in clothes, except that his hair was wavy, without gray hair and hung to his shoulders, came in. They took seats behind Crouch.
It was at this moment that conversations died down. Out of the corner of my eye I noted the presence of Mr. Malfoy among the spectators—a bright spot of his platinum hair against the background of black clothes is quite hard to miss with a glance. No less brightly, but still in a much more business style than during the Tournament, Skeeter was dressed, hiding on the very top rows. It seems everyone really assembled.
"So," Crouch knocked with a gavel, calling for silence and order. "I declare the hearing of November fifth, nineteen ninety-five, on the case of the use of Dark Magic open. Bring in the accused."
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