Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures - H.P.S.T Chapter 892: A One-sided Trial

As soon as Evan spoke, Umbridge moved uneasily again.

“Murder?” said Fudge gruffly. “This is nonsense, it sounds ridiculous. You have made up too many stories in the past few years, from the Basilisk to You-Know-Who, and now someone in the Ministry is attempting to kill Harry Potter?”

“But it’s very likely that it’s a fact, Mr. Minister,” said Evan, “Just look it up and you’ll know that if someone has ordered the Dementors, they will definitely leave clues, and there are not many people in the Ministry of Magic who have the right to order the Dementors…”

“You do not want to say I’m trying to murder Harry Potter, do you?!” snapped Fudge, his face turning purple. “This is madness, utterly abnormal. Look, Dumbledore, this is the student you have taught. You do not still believe this boy’s nonsense, do you?”

There were no more than five individuals within the Ministry who could control the Dementors, and Fudge naturally assumed Evan was referring to him.

He was now like a powder barrel, ready to explode at the slightest touch. It was simply impossible to reason with him and analyze this matter calmly.

Umbridge coughed softly, poked her body out of the shadow, and she could be seen clearly.

She was like a large, pale toad, rather squat, with a broad, flabby face, as little neck as Uncle Vernon, and a very wide, slack mouth. Her eyes were large, round, and slightly bulging. Even the little black velvet bow perched on top of her short curly hair put people in mind of a large fly she was about to catch on a long sticky tongue.

“Oh!” Fudge gasped. “The Chair recognizes Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister.”

So she spoke in a fluttery, girlish, high-pitched voice.

“I am sorry, I am sure I must have misunderstood you,” she said with a simper that left her big, round eyes as cold as ever. “So silly of me. But it sounded for a teensy moment as though Mr. Mason was suggesting that the Ministry of Magic had ordered an attack on this boy!”

She gave a silvery laugh to make the hairs on the back of one’s neck stand up.

A few other members of the Wizengamot laughed with her. It could not have been plainer that not one of them was really amused.

“This is just a possibility, and it’s not the Ministry of Magic, but someone in the Ministry.”

“What’s the difference?” said Fudge angrily.

“I think what Evan said is very reasonable, and this is exactly what I want to say,” said Dumbledore politely, “If it is true that the Dementors are taking orders only from the Ministry of Magic, and it is also true that two Dementors attacked Harry and his cousin a week ago, then it follows logically that somebody at the Ministry might have ordered the attacks. Of course, these particular Dementors may have been outside Ministry control…”

“There are no Dementors outside Ministry control!” snapped Fudge.

Dumbledore inclined his head in a little bow, keeping a smile on his face.

“Then undoubtedly the Ministry will be making a full inquiry into why two Dementors were so very far from Azkaban and why they attacked without authorization.”

“Enough, enough, Dumbledore, it is not for you to decide what the Ministry of Magic does or does not do!” snapped Fudge, now a shade of magenta on his face. “You and the kid next to you don’t tell the Ministry what to do, you do not have that right.”

“Of course it isn’t,” said Dumbledore mildly. “I was merely expressing my confidence, as an ordinary citizen who is concerned about the progress of this matter, that it will not go uninvestigated.”

He glanced at Madam Bones, who readjusted her monocle and stared back at him, frowning slightly as though she’d understood something.

“I would remind everybody that the behavior of these Dementors, if indeed they are not figments of these boys’ imagination, is not the subject of this hearing!” said Fudge, breathing heavily, turning his head to ignore them. “We are here to examine Harry Potter’s offenses!”

“Of course we are,” said Dumbledore, “but the presence of Dementors in that alleyway is highly relevant. Clause seven of the Decree states that magic may be used before Muggles in exceptional circumstances, and as those exceptional circumstances include situations that threaten the life of the wizard or witch himself, or witches, wizards, or Muggles present at the time of the…”

“We are familiar with clause seven, thank you very much!” snarled Fudge.

“Of course you are,” said Dumbledore courteously. “Then we are in agreement that Harry’s use of the Patronus Charm in these circumstances falls precisely into the category of exceptional circumstances it describes?”

“If there were Dementors, which I doubt…”

“You have heard from an eyewitness,” Dumbledore interrupted. “If you still doubt her truthfulness, call her back, question her again. I am sure she would not object.”

“I … that … I … not …” blustered Fudge, fiddling with the papers before him. “I want this over with today, Dumbledore!”

“But naturally, you would not care how many times you heard from a witness, if the alternative was a serious miscarriage of justice.”

“Serious miscarriage, my hat!” said Fudge at the top of his voice. “Have you ever bothered to tot up the number of cock-and-bull stories this boy has come out with, Dumbledore, while trying to cover up his flagrant misuse of magic out of school? I suppose you’ve forgotten the Hover Charm he used three years ago…”

“That wasn’t me, it was a house-elf!” said Harry.

“YOU SEE?” roared Fudge, gesturing flamboyantly in Harry’s direction. “A house-elf! In a Muggle house! Is that possible?”

“The house-elf in question is currently employed by Evan, and he is in Hogwarts kitchens,” said Dumbledore, “I can summon him here in an instant to give evidence if you wish.”

“I … not … I haven’t got time to listen to house-elves! Anyway, that’s not the only … he blew up his aunt, for God’s sake!” Fudge shouted, banging his fist on the judge’s bench and upsetting a bottle of ink.

“And you very kindly did not press charges on that occasion, accepting, I presume, that even the best wizards cannot always control their emotions,” said Dumbledore calmly, as Fudge attempted to scrub the ink off his notes.

“And Evan Mason next to him … he has caused much trouble in the past few years. We are too tolerant of these two boys!” Fudge continued to shout, “Just at last year’s Quidditch World Cup finals, he dueled with the bloody vampire in front of all the wizards in the world, and used Transfiguration…”

“Obviously, this was not Evan’s fault. That is what the Ministry of Magic should be responsible for. If you could ensure the safety of the game, Evan would not have had to risk his life and fight dangerous vampires. Cornelius, do you want to pursue this matter?”

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