As soon as Crouch uttered these words, in the middle of the hall, on a spacious free patch, where exactly the complex geometric pattern was on the floor, one chair with a high straight back and shackles in the area of ankles and wrists appeared. Two Aurors in scarlet robes entered the hall, leading Umbridge by the arms. Now she was not so aggressively minded, and generally looked somehow unusually pale.
She was seated at the chair, the shackles on which immediately closed, depriving the pink toad of freedom of movement.
"Accused Dolores Jane Umbridge. You are charged with the creation of a Dark Artifact with the function of causing physical and moral harm to the wizard using it. You are charged with using this artifact on underage students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You are charged with using your official powers in order to force students to self-torture with Dark Magic."
Crouch read everything from a sheet and with each word, even if a little, was surprised more and more.
"Accused," he looked at Umbridge, who now looked frankly cornered. "Do you have anything to say regarding the charges brought against you?"
"This..." her voice trembled, "this is all slander."
"Something more weighty? No?" Crouch lowered his gaze to the papers. "So. Attached to the case... Protocols of witness interrogation. Results of medical examination immediately after receiving injuries through the Dark Artifact designated above... Here, homemade Blood Quill. Evidence attached to the case..."
Crouch looked at the secretary, and he handed him a container with an important air. Crouch opened it and demonstrated to everyone this very quill, and then small pot-bellied vials with Veritaserum.
"Vials with used Veritaserum are attached," Crouch summarized, putting everything back and returning to the papers. "Results of analysis of the Quill and the amount of potion... Attached."
It seems he was not even aware of the case, but very clearly and quickly oriented himself right on the go—practice of the very same work during the confrontation with the Dark Lord makes itself felt.
"So," Crouch continued to speak, reading and immediately analyzing the contents of the documents. "Analysis confirmed that the Blood Quill seized from Dolores Jane Umbridge is a low-quality, but strong Dark Artifact of artisanal production. Also, analysis confirmed its multiple, more than forty times..."
At this figure the hall hummed indignantly, and Crouch immediately struck a couple of times with the gavel.
"Silence! More than forty times, the use of this artifact during the last month..."
"When did she have time?" Hermione sitting nearby whispered quietly, leaning slightly to me, and her face expressed slight shock. "Nightmare."
"...Considering witness testimonies, there were more precedents. Analysis of Veritaserum residues in vials seized from Dolores Jane Umbridge showed the absence of nine drops, which is commensurate with three full uses of it or nine—in a light form without loss of self-consciousness by the interrogated."
Crouch waved his wand, and a hefty stack of papers appeared on the desks in front of the Wizengamot members.
"Respected members of the Wizengamot can familiarize themselves with the case materials."
Only eight people out of fifty decided to do so, starting to quickly but thoughtfully study the papers. The rest either ignored the fact of their appearance, or quickly ran their eyes over them with a quick glance.
Crouch paused literally for a minute, allowing those wishing to familiarize themselves with the documents, and at this time spectators and other "uninvolved" in direct proceedings quietly whispered, discussing what they heard.
"So," Crouch knocked with the gavel. "Question to respected members of the Wizengamot—will we conduct a repeated interrogation of witnesses under Veritaserum to finally clarify the details?"
A dozen seconds of meeting, and a wizard took the floor, who by a miracle had not yet crumbled into sand from old age, only his voice was loud and clear.
"We blindly selected a few witnesses who can be interrogated in this way. Here are the names..." the wizard handed the list to Crouch. "Would also like to hear words of some house prefects."
All witnesses, as I understand, were already present in the hall, sitting on seats for spectators.
"Herbert Fleet," Crouch named our now Beater, and below, on the spacious patch, another chair appeared, only this time without shackles.
Herbert, sitting somewhere to the side of me, quickly and confidently descended from the stands and sat on the chair. One of the Aurors, standing aside until this moment, brought a small round table with two glasses of water and two vials.
"Herbert Fleet," Crouch looked carefully at the guy, from which he flinched slightly. "Now you will be given a glass of water in which three drops of Veritaserum will be dissolved. After you drink the solution, you will be asked a series of questions. Do not try to realize what exactly you are answering, do not try to prevent an answer. Is everything clear to you?"
"Yes, sir," Herbert nodded.
The Auror measured three drops of potion and handed a glass with the resulting solution to the guy. He took it, exhaled and quickly drank it in one gulp. Literally a couple of seconds, and Herbert began to look as if he had fallen under Imperio—a stupid, emotionless, detached look. Crouch waved his wand, and I saw how domes of some protection appeared for a moment around Herbert and Mr. Crouch, disappearing immediately.
"One-way silencing," Hermione explained to me in a very, very quiet whisper. "I read that this way wizards can talk to each other, and only they will hear each other, but everyone will hear them."
The purpose and meaning of such manipulations became clear to me, because under Veritaserum a wizard will answer any question asked of him. However, an incorrectly asked question can capitally jam the brain, and if it concerns some information stored, for example, under an Unbreakable Vow, then the wizard may answer, which is unlikely, but he can be capitally jammed or even killed.
"Your full name?"
"Herbert Jonathan Fleet."
"Do you study at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"
"Yes."
"In what year?"
"Seventh."
"Verification is over. Herbert Jonathan Fleet, did Dolores Umbridge force you to use the Blood Quill presented earlier?"
"Yes."
"During its use did you receive an increasing hand injury?"
"Yes."
"Did you act of your own free will using this quill?"
"No."
"Who forced you to do this?"
"Dolores Jane Umbridge," it seems, the full name did not fly past the consciousness of our Beater.
"She forced you to use the Blood Quill presented earlier under the pretext of detention?"
"Yes."
"Did you undergo medical examination by Hogwarts Mediwitch, Poppy Pomfrey?"
"Yes."
"What degree of severity of injuries received by you due to the use of the Blood Quill did Poppy Pomfrey record?"
"Injuries from Dark Magic of medium severity with mental compulsion of second class."
"Interrogation is over."
The Auror made another solution in a new glass and handed it to Herbert.
"Drink," said Crouch, and Herbert immediately drank the glass in one gulp.
A couple of seconds, and the guy's gaze cleared, became meaningful, and his face stopped looking like a wax mask.
"You may take your place among witnesses," Crouch nodded to him.
"Sir," Herbert nodded in response and quickly returned to us, receiving a couple of encouraging pats on the back from other "victims" from our house.
Exactly in the same way the interrogation of other witnesses took place, and it took nearly fifteen minutes.
"Hector Erich Granger."
Crouch called my name. Amusingly, my middle name, given in honor of someone on the maternal line, was used so rarely that I even forgot about its existence. Well, didn't forget, but somehow didn't correlate "Erich" with me.
Getting up from my seat, I went down and took the witness stand.
"Introduce yourself," Crouch looked at me with his piercing gaze, but this only made me straighten up, starting to hold myself even more confidently and freely.
"Hector Erich Granger, fifth-year student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hufflepuff house prefect."
"Tell me, Mr. Granger, did you suspect what kind of activities the defendant conducts within the walls of the school?"
"Guessed, sir," I nodded. "Practically on the very first day I happened to meet a student returning from detentions during patrol. Judging by his absence here, he wished to remain unnamed."
"Despite his wish," Crouch began to speak strictly, "you will have to state his name."
"Harry Potter," I shrugged.
Such information caused indignation among those present, even if part of the dissatisfied did it clearly feignedly.
"Silence!" Crouch hit with the gavel. "Continue."
"I noticed signs of injury on his hand and insisted that he show me his hand. It seemed strange to me that a guy cut his hand to blood, scratching words there, so I applied a couple of diagnostic charms. Revealed traces of Dark Magic. Found out reasons for the appearance of such injuries."
"And didn't even send the victim to the Hospital Wing."
"He is fifteen years old, sir," I smiled with the corner of my lips. "If Mr. Potter over five years of study did not learn that when receiving injuries need to contact our mediwitch - these are purely his personal problems."
"That is, you knew at the very beginning of the school year that Dolores Jane Umbridge uses Dark Magic, a Dark Artifact as a punishment, literally for torture? And at the same time did not report to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or Auror Office?"
"Yes," I nodded imperturbably. "Dolores Umbridge repeatedly stated that she acts in the school strictly with the approval of the Minister himself, by his instruction and with his general approval. Many subtleties of laws are still unknown to me, and I considered it much more effective to conduct a preventive conversation with the house."
"On topic?"
"Do not run into, and if already ran into—immediately go to the Hospital Wing to provide assistance. Besides, I consider it important to clarify that even if I wanted to send an application to the Auror Office or DMLE, I would not have succeeded. Dolores Umbridge somehow blocked unwanted correspondence of students both with parents, and with anyone else. And as I already said, I considered it inappropriate to write an application, because Umbridge acted strictly with the permission of Minister Fudge and with his full support of any of her actions."
"We will look into this. Free," Crouch hit with the gavel, and I went to my place.
"Ratted Harry out entirely," Hannah whispered with a smile.
"No point hiding when we go with whole front against enemy here."
The meeting continued, and now Malfoy was called. Oh, Draco went all out. Sang like a nightingale about what outrages Umbridge committed, how forced everyone to cooperate, and in case of refusal—provoked to detentions, where mercilessly tortured. In general, everyone saw Draco's resemblance to Lucius—also a lover of scratching tongue.
The funniest thing began when the time came to interrogate Umbridge. She even resisted attempts to pour Veritaserum into her—whether from fear, or something else, but that's not the point. She confessed to everything. Absolutely everything. Moreover, she assured everyone that she hates children, and if to achieve goals she had to use Cruciatus—she would undoubtedly use it. Exactly on this magnificent note, a disheveled Fudge burst into the hall, having lost his measuredness and importance.
"What is going on here?! Why without my knowledge?" he was indignant, and seeing Umbridge on the chair for the accused, simultaneously turned pale and was indignant. "On what basis do you, Bartemius, occupy my place?"
"You, Cornelius Fudge," Crouch looked at the Minister just as strictly and angrily as at Umbridge. "Are temporarily suspended from performing duties in the post of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot due to personal interest in the current case. Know yourself, such is the law."
"The law can also be changed, Bartemius," pale Fudge hissed. "I am Minister for Magic here!"
Glancing at Skeeter, I only smiled—this blonde lady scribbled lines in a notebook herself, behind her back squeaked a self-writing quill, leaving notes on another notebook hovering in the air, and the reporter herself even stuck out her tongue from diligence, now and then shooting a burning gaze first at one wizard, then at another. Methinks, the whole yellow press of England already this evening will be full of bright headlines of her articles.
"You must have forgotten," Crouch frowned, "that this is an elective position. Just as laws can be changed, so can the Minister be removed. And now either take a place among spectators, or leave the Wizengamot hall."
"I won't leave this like this!" Fudge threatened, turned around sharply and went away.
Smirking, I whispered quietly so that only those nearby could hear:
"Umbridge said exactly the same thing."
When former Professor Umbridge drank the antidote to Veritaserum and regained control over thoughts and body, she turned pale more than before and, it seemed, was about to theatrically lose consciousness. Or maybe quite naturally—who knows these people, a little crazy, with fine mental organization?
"So," Crouch continued. "Time to make a decision in the case of Dark Magic and other crimes against wizards. Respected members of the Wizengamot. Who is for finding Dolores Jane Umbridge guilty on all counts?"
Practically everyone raised their hands, and I suppressed a smile with difficulty.
"Who is against?"
Not a single hand.
"By majority vote of Wizengamot members of full assembly decision was made to find Dolores Jane Umbridge guilty on all counts charged to her and sentence to imprisonment in Azkaban for a term of one year. The sentence is final and not subject to appeal."
Crouch hit with the gavel, drawing a line under the meeting. Flashes of magical cameras sparkled, capturing the moment of shock on Umbridge's face, universal smiles of those gathered—no one sympathized with this lady—and how Aurors lead away Umbridge striving to lose consciousness.
Students, spectators and Heads of Houses began to get up from their seats, slowly moving to the exit. As soon as we left the hall, I noticed that many adults preferred to communicate with each other, stepping aside, but our Heads of Houses did not give us much opportunity to relax, leading towards elevators. With the edge of my consciousness I noted that the spider that jumped into Umbridge's hair properly transmits information. What kind? For example, that Fudge intercepted the convoy to exchange a couple of words. What kind? "I'll think of something, you main thing keep silent". Of course, that after such a phrase I will try to make sure that the spider will under no circumstances lose sight of them.
Already being in the elevator and listening to joyful thoughts aloud performed by Weasley, I pondered about who will be put on the position of DADA teacher? What will happen to our club? And generally... Such a move cannot but hit Fudge, although he will get out, of course. But who and how will use the presented opportunity to shit on the current Minister—that is the question.
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