Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Preventative Measures	By : SpeedyTomato Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 151582 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 30
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and make no money off this work in perversion

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Chapter 15

Beta'd by the amazing Tenchi. Thanks, woman, you're the best!

Just a reminder of what's on my profile; reviews complaining or whinging about the lack 'o sex in stories will get deleted. If you want a smut-filled romp, you need to find another story to read.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, naked except for the towel that was wrapped around him, Harry was clutching onto Elliot, who was highly disgruntled about the bath they had taken, leg bouncing up and down. He was waiting for Sirius to get his clothes then dress him. Though he was still having issues with this part of things, it was comforting, in its own way, to allow someone to take care of him, especially since he had that damned hearing in a few hours.
Coming back over to his obviously stressed out godson carrying the clothes, Sirius sat them down on the bed. “I just grabbed a good pair of jeans and a t-shirt, that should be good enough,” he said, just trying to make small talk to alleviate some of Harry's nervousness. “Molly and Arthur are already here, though you don't have to leave for quite some time yet.” Stopping, he lowered his voice and said, “Lucius said he has a calming draught for you from Snape. He told me to impart that you need to eat something, even if it's just like toast, to take it. Otherwise you're going to end up sick. I think a couple slices of toast will be fine. Make sure you do. That'll help you, a lot.” Seeing his godson nod, Sirius went to sliding the young man's socks on before snagging the nappy. Though he hadn't said anything to anyone, even Lucius, in his mind the fact that Harry was still willing to let him do this and dress this way was telling that he did still trust him enough that he wasn't going to back out of anything, willing to work with what was there. That he liked and he was hopeful that the worst was over so they could press on from here.
After getting the nappy and Harry's jeans on him, Sirius slipped the t-shirt over his godson's head then put his shoes on. Moving up and sitting by Harry on the bed, he slipped an arm around his waist and held him close, kissing him on top the top of his head. “Just trust your solicitor, Harry. The man knows what he's doing. Lucius told me to tell you that he will sit right next to Fudge. Just act like you're shooting Fudge the stink-eye and look at Lucius. He also told me that when it comes to the memories, that he won't watch them. Because he's not a member of the Wizengamot, he won't be allowed to view those with a spell like what will be on your chair to prevent him.” Lowering his voice, he said, softly, “He told me he wouldn't even he could, that he didn't think he could take it. Just look at Daddy Lucius, Harry. He's going to help all he can. Keep Elliot in your pocket and hold onto him through your jeans. It's not much, but it'll help you.”
Giving a ragged sigh, Harry nodded, looking down at the floor.
Holding his godson close, Sirius said, quietly, “If I thought I could get away with going, I would, you know that. There's no way though. Just look at Daddy Lucius. He's going to help you all he can, though it won't be much. Even he said there is no chance you'll be convicted. Fudge is going to try, but it won't work. He also told me to pass on to you that no one outside the court will know what is said. You're underage so you're protected and what is said in that courtroom is kept sealed. The results won't be, but the details will. Some will come out later as it's going to lead to other cases, but you'll be protected.”
Not having thought about that end of things, Harry gave a relieved nod. Quietly, he said, “Alright, I'll work with it.”
Pulling his godson between his spread legs, Sirius held him close then said, “Just keep in mind while going through it what's going to come of it. It means you don't have to be around Dumbledore anymore, or go back to the Dursleys and you get to stay with me. That's more than worth a few hours of being uncomfortable, isn't it?”
“It is,” Harry sighed, nodding. Rubbing his eyes, clutching tightly to Elliot, he leaned back against Sirius and slumped slightly. “I hate this shite.”
“It'll all be over soon. Then we go from there.” Sirius counseled softly. Snickering, he gave a feral grin then said, “Give them hell, Harry. Slap them hard and let it all out. And watch the expression on Dumbledore's face when you do. You'll love what you see. That will help get you through it.”
That wasn't something he had thought about either, but the images made Harry grin. “I will,” he said more confidently than before.
“Good. Make the old goat squirm,” Sirius told him, kissing him atop the head again. “I think you're ready and we need to get downstairs. You're taking the Underground with Arthur so you need to leave early. So, shrink Elliot and we'll get some breakfast.” Patting him, he waited for Harry to stand then stood himself.
“Let me grab some Muggle money out of my trunk so I can get me a soda when we come back,” Harry said, walking over to scrounge through his trunk for his stash.
“You might want to take extra. The minute Arthur hears you're getting a Muggle drink, he's going to want one too,” Sirius laughed, shaking his head.
Snickering at that, Harry nodded and stuffed some money in his pockets. Standing, he shrunk Elliot then tucked him deep into his pocket, making sure the key chain thing on him was attached to his pocket. Letting out a sigh, he said, voice somewhat uneven, “I think I’m ready.”
Slipping an arm around Harry's shoulders, Sirius pulled him close then gave him a kiss on the temple. “Let's get you something to eat so you can go. Remember; it's all going to be fine.”
Nodding shakily, Harry allowed himself to be led out of the room.

Sitting in that intimidating chair in the courtroom, Harry was trying not to fidget around. Clutching onto Elliot, who seemed to be clinging to his leg, through the fabric of his jeans, he kept glancing up at the panel before him, eyes sliding to the far end where Lucius was sitting. Though the man had a smug, stoic look on his face, Lucius gave him a couple looks and at least one fast wink that told Harry he was there for him. That helped, some at least. He was sure the calming draught he had taken before coming in did more though. Without it, he was certain he would be about to crawl out of his skin from nerves. Sighing, Harry rubbed his eyes and waited, hoping to get this over quickly. Feeling his solicitor's hand on his shoulder, he looked at the man.
Leaning in close to his client, Amos whispered, “Just trust me, Harry. This'll be over soon. You'll get what you want out of it, I assure you.” Glancing down at Dumbledore, who didn't look to be happy that he was there, he said, “Just follow my lead. We'll get what you want out of this.”
Harry nodded then stiffened up when the gavel banged, making him jump slightly.
Looking at Amos, Amelia Bones asked, “As you're the solicitor of record here, Amos, let me ask this; what do you want to do about Albus? It seems he's ready to defend Mr. Potter.”
A smug expression on his face, Amos said, “Let him do what he wants. When he finishes I'll take over.” Seeing her nod, he then went into the dance about Lucius being there.
Listening in, Harry tried not to fidget. This was stressful. Quickly, that part ended with Lucius being allowed to stay, as expected, though his solicitor mentioned the 'shield' of some kind to block out some of the more graphic things that may come, something accepted. Then Dumbledore started his song and dance, producing Mrs. Figg as a witness. He listened in to not only what the two of them had to say, but what the panel said back. While doing that, he eyed those there. He didn't know any of them other than Fudge and Lucius. The one person sitting next to Fudge, a toad-like woman, seemed to be giving him a cold, knowing smile, something that he glowered at. He didn't know who she was, but he didn't like her at all.
Letting Albus do what he wanted, Amos listened in, taking note of what was said. Though the man had done a decent job of it, something that would probably get his client off, Amos wasn't going to let it stop there. Instead, when the man was done, he asked the panel respectfully, “Now, since Albus is done, I would like to question Mrs. Figg then take over from there.” Seeing a wave from Madam Bones indicating for him to have at it, a smug expression slid over his face. Not moving from his spot by Harry, he asked, “Mrs. Figg, can you explain to all of us why you live on Privet Drive?”
Sputtering slightly, looking at Albus, Arabella's eyes widened. Quietly, she said, “I live there to breed my cats. They are kneazle-crosses.”
“What was the reason you moved to Privet Drive in the first place? Was it just happenstance? And, keep in mind that perjury is against the law and you can be prosecuted if you lie to the court.”
Now not sure what to do, shooting Albus, who was rubbing his eyes, not looking pleased, a panicked look, she sputtered some more, then answered truthfully, “I was asked to move there to keep an eye on Harry from the time he was left with the Dursleys.”
“And who asked you to do this? Was it the Ministry in hopes to keep an eye out on the young man?” Amos asked smoothly, looking at the woman.
“No, it wasn't the Ministry,” she admitted softly, shaking her head.
“Who was it then if not the Ministry?” Amos inquired, looking hard at the woman.
Swallowing thickly, looking panicked, Mrs. Figg finally managed to whisper, “Albus Dumbledore.”
“Say that again, please. I couldn't quite hear you,” Amos told her, voice hardening.
“Albus Dumbledore,” Mrs. Figg told him, again shooting Albus a panicked look.
“And why was it that Albus Dumbledore needed someone to move there to keep an eye on my client? Was he in danger from the family he stayed with or some other kind?” Amos asked, looking at the woman.
“Well, he said it was because he needed to be protected from those that were still around from the first war,” Arabella explained, clutching onto her purse tightly.
Nodding, Amos asked, “You didn't treat him very well, did you? In fact, you were rather nasty to my client as he was growing up, weren't you?”
Stammering, Arabella threw another panicked look at Albus, who appeared really concerned, not wanting her to answer that.
Not wanting this line of questioning to go any further, Albus stood then said, “Madam Bones, this is going far afield from the charges.”

Looking at Amos, Madam Bone asked, “Is there a reason for this, Amos?”

“There is, Madam Bones, trust me. It's called laying a foundation.” Amos told her smugly, that feral look returning.
Nodding, she said, “Get on with it then.” Shooting Albus a hard look, she imparted, “Albus, keep in mind you are here as a courtesy, nothing more. Solicitor Carthwaight is the one on record defending Mr. Potter. Just because you were once on this panel doesn't mean that you can jump in here. You had your turn now you have to listen like everyone else.” Leaning back, she motioned Amos to get on with it.
“Thank you, Madam Bones,” Amos told her respectfully. Looking back at Arabella, he restated his question then said, “Please answer, Mrs. Figg.”
“Well, no, I didn't,” Amelia admitted, looking down. “If I had, the Dursleys wouldn't have allowed me to be around him.”
“So, it seems that you knew all wasn't well with that family when it came to my client? It sounds like you are saying they didn't treat him well.”
Not wanting to go down that road with the man, Arabella's eyes widened then she stammered, “Well, they aren't the most loving of families, I admit that.” She hoped that Albus' pat line would work here and he wouldn’t press on more with that.

“I see,” Amos said, almost thoughtfully, looking at her. Straightening up, he looked at the panel then requested, “I would like to press on but reserve the right to come back and re-question Mrs. Figg when I'm done. Also, to be allowed to question Albus Dumbledore as well.” Hearing Albus start to protest, he talked over the man, “As I am here as the solicitor for Mr. Potter, not Albus, he cannot claim he is the solicitor of record, thus is not protected by solicitor/client laws.”
Looking around, Madam Bones glanced at Cornelius, who was sputtering slightly, then nodded slowly, “Granted.”
Firm look on his face, giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze, he said, “I am requesting that my client be given Veritaserum and that I question him under it.” Stopping, he smirked at the uproar over it.
After several minutes of heated debate, with Fudge howling about the unreliability of it, Amos said, quietly, during a lull, “The law states clearly that as my client is a minor, I can request such a procedure and it has to be honored. I am, as the law clearly points out, his proxy guardian in the situation. If Minister Fudge and the others don't like this, I suggest they rewrite the laws that have been on our books since the time the potion was invented. This law was put in place specifically for minors and their ability to clear themselves of serious charges. Just because Minister Fudge and those that follow his lead may not like it, does not mean it can be negated, Madam Bones.”
Looking at Amos, Amelia Bones stated clearly, loud enough so that it could be heard over the din, “Amos is correct; that is the law. We cannot ignore the law.” Looking at the young man seated before them, who appeared to be staring at the floor, she asked, quietly, “Do you agree to do this, Mr. Potter? It is your choice.”
“I agree, ma'am,” Harry said, looking at her.
“So be it. Veritaserum will be employed. Bring out a bottle and the timer,” she told everyone firmly, leaning back.
“We also request a viewing Pensieve and the wand to go with it,” Amos told her, clasping his hands behind his back.
Once more, there was an uproar over that, but Madam Bones ordered them brought out.
Hand clasped firmly on Harry's shoulder while the potion was put on his tongue, Amos waited for it to take effect then asked, gently, “Mr. Potter, were you and your family, along with Arabella Figg confronted with a Dementor the night in question?”
Starting to sweat, clutching onto Elliot tightly, as the dragon in his pocket clung to his leg, Harry stated, voice monotone, “We were.”
“You cast your Patronus to get rid of the Dementor in question to save your Uncle Vernon, did you not? As the Dementor had him in his grasp?”
“I did,” Harry told him, eyes lifting to Lucius. He hated this feeling and not being able to stop the questioning, being forced to utter what he was. He imagined that it was going to get worse from here on out. Looking at Lucius, though pretending to glare at Fudge, he kept his eyes there, hoping that helped.
Looking at Harry, Lucius tried to keep a normal expression in place, but hoped to convey he was there for the young man. He could easily see Harry was having problems doing this and just wanted to give him some support. Making sure everyone was looking at the young man, he mouthed 'you're doing fine' quickly then went back to pretending to pay rapt attention to all that was said. Honestly, he was more smirking internally at what Amos was doing rather than what was being said so far. It was great theater, that's for damned sure.
Pleased with that, Amos said, picking up the wand that came with the Pensieve then holding it out for the young man, “Can you pull the memory of the Dementor attack and put it in the Pensieve for us, please, Mr. Potter?”
With a shaking hand, Harry took the wand then pulled the memory before dropping it into the Pensieve. Handing the wand back to Carthwaight, he waited.
Activating the Pensieve, Amos stood there, looking at the panel as the memory played out, liking the look of disgruntlement on Fudge and Umbridge's faces. When it ended, he asked his client, softening his tone as he was about to delve into what he knew was the touchiest topic of all, “You seemed reluctant to save your uncle, Mr. Potter. He also seems to despise you. Is that part of the reason you were reluctant to step in? Because of his attitude towards you?”
“Yes,” Harry said honestly, looking down.
“He doesn't treat you very well, does he?” Amos asked, looking at the somewhat stunned looks on the panel then to Albus, who was looking down rubbing his eyes.
“No.” Harry told him shortly.
“He didn't even call you by your given name in that memory. Does he ever call you by your name? Or does he use other terms for you?”
Knowing where there was now leading, Harry stiffened up but answered automatically, “I can't ever remember him calling me by my name. He's always either called me boy or freak.” Completely uptight and stiff, Harry clutched onto Elliot harder, looking down, unable to stand to see the faces of those there.
“I see,” Amos said thoughtfully. “Doesn't your aunt step in and set this to rights?”
“No,” Harry told him, eyes locked on the floor.
“She's your mother's sister. She should care about you. Does she?” Amos asked as gently as he could, reaching out and putting a reassuring hand on his client's shoulder.
“No, she doesn't,” Harry told him, starting to tremble.
“How do you know this?”
“She's told me. She's told me she despises me, that I’m just as much of a freak as my mother was and just as strange.” Harry mumbled, wishing he could stop this from coming out of his mouth.
Seeing the astonished looks from the panel, not to mention Fudge rubbing his eyes, a sour look on his face, Amos tried not to smirk, knowing he was about to rock the world of most sitting in the chamber. This was good and going right according to plan. “There is another part of the memory you just showed us, is there not? One that shows the interaction with your family and then with your uncle alone, correct?”
Cringing, knowing what was coming, Harry lifted his head and looked at Lucius, hoping that helped. Automatically, he answered, “Yes.”
“Please pull the memory for us so we can see it, Mr. Potter,” Amos said as gently as he could, handing his client the wand.
Hand shaking badly, not wanting to do this, Harry pulled the memory and dropped it in the Pensieve, still looking at Lucius, hoping like hell the expression on his face would be taken as a glare at Fudge. He hated this and wanted to die rather than allow others to see what was about to be shown.
Once the memory finished, seeing disgusted looks on the faces of those on the panel, not to mention some glares in Fudge's direction, Amos asked his client, “Is your family always like that with you, Mr. Potter?”
“Yes,” Harry muttered, reaching up to rub his eyes with a shaking hand.
Sitting there, Albus was looking at Harry, mouth dry. This was bad, very bad, and he had a horrible feeling where it was going. Standing, he said, “Madam Bones, this is so far afield that we shouldn't be delving into this. The charges are underage magic, something Solicitor Carthwaight has proven false already as Mr. Potter was justified in doing what he did to protect others that couldn't defend themselves.”
“Sit down and be quiet, Albus,” Amelia hissed at the man. Looking at Amos, she said, “You do seem going a little astray here, Amos. Is there a reason for this?”
“Oh yes, trust me! I just need to make things clear on many matters before I get right to what is really going on,” Amos told her smugly, lifting his chin. “Besides, all matters relating to this area are permissible to be brought in. That's what I'm doing. I want the panel to have a crystal clear picture of what is going on and why Mr. Potter did exactly what he did, including his reluctance to save his uncle.” Glancing at Fudge, who was rubbing his now red, sweaty face, he added, “Including that Mr. Potter, and others present in the court room, thought this whole thing was a set up. I fully and completely plan to clear my clients' good name before the day is out, on all matters that have been discussed here and in the press, something I'm allowed to do.”
“Indeed you are,” Amelia said, a small smile turning up the corners of her mouth. “Proceed.”
Softening his tone, giving Harry's shoulder a gentle squeeze, hoping to reassure him, Amos pressed on. “The part with your uncle alone—he made some cryptic statements to you, obviously not happy about being attacked by the Dementor. Did you know what he meant, Mr. Potter?”
“I do,” Harry confirmed, looking at Lucius, who was shooting him a look that seemed to be trying to impart he was with him every step of the way. Swallowing thickly, he wanted this to hurry up and end so he could hide somewhere.
“What did he mean?” Amos asked, tone as soft as he could make it.
“He was threatening to sexually assault me,” Harry uttered, tone strangled as he fought not to say it, but the potion was overriding his natural defenses.
Hearing an uproar with even Fudge sputtering, Amos talked over them, “The curses you threatened him with—do you know those or similar ones?” Amos asked, wanting to get this out of the way so it couldn't come back to bite them later.
“No,” Harry told him firmly. “I know the ones they teach you in school for if you're attacked, not the ones I threatened him with. I don't even know if they really exist.
Pressing on back to the main matter, he asked, “Has he sexually assaulted you before?”
“Yes,” Harry said, eyes locked on Lucius, feeling sick.
“When did he start to sexually assault you?” Amos asked, squeezing the young man's shoulder, knowing how hard this was for him.
“I was either six or seven, I don't remember.” Harry told him automatically, willing a hole to open up and swallow him so he didn't have to continue on.
The panel was in complete chaos at that answer. Now, even if he went far astray into other areas, Amos knew they would let him as another more serious crime had just been exposed, exactly what he wanted. Continuing on, he asked, “Did the sexual abuse stop?”
“Yes,” Harry told him, eyes locked on Lucius, who seemed to be mouthing words of encouragement to him.
“When did it stop?”
“When I was eleven, just before I turned twelve.” Harry told him, trembling violently.
Seeing Dumbledore stand, obviously he was going to protest some more, Amelia hissed, tone deadly, “Sit down and don't say a word, Albus! You open your mouth and I will have court attendants Silencio you!” Seeing the man sit down, obviously upset, she ignored him then looking at Amos, she said, “I want details of this, as many as you can give me.”
Taking that as the best sign so far, Amos said, tone smooth, “Of course, Madam Bones.” Giving her a nod, he pressed on. “How many times did it happen, do you know?”
“I don't know, a lot,” Harry told him in that monotone voice, feeling ill.
“More than fifty? More than a hundred?” Amos asked, giving general numbers.
“Yes,” Harry told him. This was bad and he hated it. Focusing on what Sirius had told him before he left, he kept that in mind, hoping it would get him through this before he lost his mind. Clutching on Elliot so hard his knuckles were white, Harry also latched onto the arm of chair, holding it tightly as well, trembling as he did.
Looking at Madam Bones, Amos said, “I will have Mr. Potter pull a couple memories of this so you can see. I want to activate the privacy spell around the chair so he doesn't have to deal with them. Also, that Mr. Malfoy have the spell activated around him as we discussed.”
“Go on,” Amelia told him, tapping the top of the desk to activate the one around Lucius.
Picking up the wand that came with the Pensieve, Amos activated the spell then handed it to Harry. “I want you to pull the last memory of being assaulted by your uncle and then another you find most traumatizing, especially if it contains information that might lead us to believe that someone else knew.” That was the best way he knew how to phrase this to get Harry to pull the one of his aunt walking in.
Hand trembling violently, Harry pulled the last memory of being assaulted he had then the one of his aunt walking in, dropping them in the bowl before going back to clutching onto the arm of the chair. Hearing his solicitor say he was activating the memory, he stared at Lucius, hoping that this wouldn't go on much longer.
Lucius was grateful that he didn't have to see what was being shown. The immediate reaction from those around him told him that he would be furious and sick if he did. Even the toad-like Umbridge was pale and shaking. Fudge couldn't even look at what was shown, trembling violently, clutching his wand and looking at the table they were seated at. A glance up at Arthur Weasley revealed that the man was looking at the ground, shaking violently, a hand over his mouth. Good. What they needed. Looking at Harry, he gave the young man a small smile. It wasn't much comfort, but he hoped it would be some. Keeping his eyes locked with the young man's, he waited until it was over.
Not watching the horrible memory play out, Amos looked at the panel until it was over, keeping a firm grip on Harry's shoulder as he did. Seeing the horrified, sick looks there, he waited until both stopped. Deactivating the spell around the chair, he patted Harry's shoulder then said, “I want to talk about the second memory that was shown, the one that apparently proved your aunt knew what was going on. Did she do anything to stop your uncle after that?”
“No,” Harry told him automatically, reaching up to rub his eyes with a trembling hand.
“What, if anything, did she do?” Amos asked, eyes scanning the panel, all of whom looked sick and furious, then lighting on Dumbledore, who was looking at the ground. He was pleased to see when he glanced in that direction that Arabella Figg was in tears, hands over her mouth, completely horrified expression on her face. Good. Let her feel guilty.
“She yelled at him,” Harry imparted.
“Did her reaction to you after that change?”
“She treated me worse after that,” Harry sighed. Quietly, he added, “It felt like she blamed me for it.”
“The memory of the last assault—you seemed injured after he was done as there was some blood. Were you?”
“Yes,” Harry admitted, trying to stop it from coming out.
“Did you see someone for it to get it fixed?”
“No, I let it heal itself.” Harry told him with a shake of his head.
“How long did it take for you to stop bleeding?” Amos asked, glad he had training to keep his emotions under control.
“A little over a week, I think. I'm not sure on that. When Ron and the twins rescued me a few days later, taking me to the Burrow, I was still bleeding and did for some time after that.”
“Did you tell Mr. and Mrs. Weasley about what happened?” Amos asked, leading into where he really wanted to go.
“No,” Harry told him simply.
“Why didn't you? I'm sure both of them would have done something to get you help,” Amos said, turning his head to glance at Arthur, who was looking at the two of them, face pale, trembling violently, hand over his mouth.
“Because I've told before and no one did anything. I didn't bother to do it again as no one cares, or so it seems.” Harry told him, actually liking that part. He hoped he was through the worst of this and they were pressing on to other things he wouldn't mind covering.
Pressing on despite the rise in murmurs from the panel, he asked, “Who did you tell?”
Knowing this was going to get good and was going somewhere he wanted, Harry said, “A teacher in the Muggle school I went to, then the people that came to talk to me when she called the authorities. And Professor Dumbledore at the end of my first year at Hogwarts.”
Seeing Albus rise, about to protest, Amelia stood and motioned for the court attendant. Hissing she barked, “Silencio him and stick him to his chair. I warned you, Albus!” Looking at Amos, she said, “Go on.”
“You told Albus Dumbledore while in school?” Amos asked, making sure this part was clear.
“Yes,” Harry said with a nod.
“Can you pull the memory of that and show us, please,” Amos asked, holding out the wand.
Doing so, not trembling as bad, Harry sat and watched it play out, feeling better.
When it was finished, Amos asked, “Did him talking to Vernon help matters?”
“No, it made it worse,” Harry told him with a shake of his head.
“How?” Amos asked, glaring at Albus, who was obviously highly upset and agitated.
“That memory of the last time Uncle Vernon did it to me was brought on by him being talked to by Professor Dumbledore. Uncle Vernon was furious I opened my mouth, that's why it was so bad.” Harry explained, relaxing slightly.
Pleased with how this was going, Amos pressed on. “Has he tried to assault you since that last time?”
“No,” Harry told him, shifting around slightly, still trembling a little though feeling better.
“He threatened to. Has he done any more of that or other similar things?”
“Yes, he's threatened to several times and tried blackmailing me into it,” Harry told him.
Looking down, Amos considered what was said and how to press on. “Did you tell Albus Dumbledore what he kept doing?”
“No,” Harry told him firmly with a shake of his head.
“Why not?” Amos asked, looking around.
“He won't do anything, he proved that, and I don't trust him.” Harry told him, head raising and looking at the panel.
Glad Harry had given him an opening to press on to other areas, Amos asked, “You don't trust many people, do you, Mr. Potter?”
“No,” Harry told him firmly with a shake of his head.
“Who in school do you trust?” Amos asked, moving on to the other area he wanted to cover.
“Fred and George Weasley. Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom and Professor Snape.”
“Your head of house is Minerva McGonagall, is it not?” Amos asked, sliding in the direction he wanted to go.
“Yes,” Harry answered with a nod.
“You don't trust her?” Amos asked, tone one of innocence though his eyes were giving away there was plenty behind what he was asking.
“No,” Harry told him firmly.
“Why not?”
“She's too much of a 'Professor Dumbledore knows best' person for me to trust.” Harry told him honestly, relaxing more.
“You don't trust anyone who adheres to that line of thinking?”
“Absolutely not,” Harry told him, shaking his head.
“He's one many look up to, as I'm sure you know. Yet you don't seem to. Tell me, Mr. Potter, why is it someone that follows that line of thinking is someone you don't trust?”
“Because they ignore what's wrong and just follow his lead, not caring about anything else,” Harry told him, looking at Lucius, who appeared real pleased with what was said.
“Can you explain that to me briefly?” Amos asked.
“They know, like Mrs. Figg, that all isn't right and ignore it because that's what he tells them to do. They don't question it, just follow,” Harry explained the best he could, stumbling slightly as he wasn't sure how to word it.
“It doesn't sound like you much care for Albus Dumbledore, Mr. Potter. What exactly is it you feel about him?” Amos asked, tone of innocence weaving through what he said, thought glaring at Albus as he did.
“I hate him as much as I do the person that killed my parents and don't think he's much better,” Harry uttered, voice loud and clear.
Hearing the absolutely stunned reaction to that, Amos tried not to look smug. Not able to help himself, he glanced at Albus, who looked completely blindsided. Pressing on, tone smoother than before, he asked, “Why do you feel that way?”
“He's proven to me he's no better in some of what he's done,” Harry told him, leaning back slightly.
“What has he done to prove that, aside from the part with your uncle?” Amos asked, openly staring at the very uncomfortable Albus.
“He dictates my life and who can do what, even knowing how bad it is. He knew the owl that brought my first Hogwarts letter was addressed to the cupboard under the stairs, something that was my room. He knows the Dursleys don't treat me well and just tells me that they care deep down or dismisses what I say about it. He makes sure no one will help me even though they know something is wrong and that I’m treated badly. They will only step in and help when he tells them they can. He is the only one allowed to dictate when I can leave my so-called home and where I go though he has no right to do it. This summer, he made sure my so-called friends didn't write to me, telling them it was to keep me safe. He's drawn my name into this mess when I didn't want it in there. He's suppressed evidence that an innocent man was sent to Azkaban without a trial, saying no one would believe three teenagers. He dropped me on my aunt and uncle's doorstep with only a note. He knew I was in danger and sent Mrs. Figg there to keep an eye on me, but did nothing to protect me from my family.” Stopping, Harry took a breath, panting heavily. Damn didn't that feel good to get out!
Loving what he just heard, Amos pressed on. “You mentioned that he did nothing to free someone that was innocent and went to Azkaban without a trial. Who is that?”
“Sirius Black,” Harry said clearly, lifting his chin.
Hearing another uproar over that, Amos pressed on, “What evidence do you have he is innocent of killing your parents?”
“That Peter Pettigrew is alive and I've encountered him more than once.” Harry told him, glaring at some on the panel, especially Fudge and the toad-like woman sitting next to him, both who were red in the face and protesting.
“Can you pull a memory to show us proof of this?” Amos asked, trying not to smirk, handing Harry the wand once more.
Knowing the memory his solicitor was talking about, Harry pulled it, making sure to stop it right where Voldemort was doing the summoning. Dropping it into the Pensieve, he waited.
Watching it play out, including the death of Cedric Diggory, Amos tried not to smirk at the horrified reactions and cries of panic at what was seen. When it finished, he asked, “Why didn't you go to the authorities with what you knew when you found out? All the times you encountered Pettigrew?”
“The first time, Professor Dumbledore told us that no one would take the word of teenagers. The second time, Minister Fudge refused to believe the person that killed my parents is back. Instead, he chose to go after me because my name was mentioned, trying to smear me in the newspapers. No one right now is going to listen to anything I have to say to them. Especially about this since it proves many people made a mistake,” Harry explained.
“Did you ever tell the press He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back or give Albus Dumbledore permission to use your name to say that?” Amos asked, looking around.
“No,” Harry told him firmly, shaking his head.
“Have you ever given an interview to the Prophet, other than the one at the start of the Tri-Wizard Tournament?”
“Absolutely not. I didn't even want to give that one, but I was cornered,” Harry told him.
“Let me change tracks here a little, Mr. Potter,” Amos said, shifting around. “You came to me earlier this year with a plan you want to put in place for next year. Can you tell us what that is?”
“At sixteen I want to go for emancipation then drop out of Hogwarts. I plan to leave Britain after that,” Harry explained, wondering where this was going. He figured he would like it, but was curious.
“Why do you want to do that?” Amos asked, circling back slightly in where he was going.
“Because I’m tired of being dragged into this mess. I'm tired of being used. I'm tired of people dictating the way I should live my life or not stepping in when something is wrong. I know something is going on here and want no part of it.” Harry told him bluntly.
“Your family is a problem that needs to be tended to, I think we'll all admit that,” Amos said, more to the panel than Harry, looking at the pale faces there. “There are other places you could go to get out of that.” Glancing back at Arthur Weasley who was the color of milk, he said, tone mild, “You came with Mr. Weasley and have stayed with his family before. I assume you like the Weasleys, am I correct?”

“I do. They are very nice, caring people,” Harry told him with a nod.
Seeing Arthur smile at that, at least a little, Amos pressed on, “Do you trust them, Mr. Potter? I'm sure they would take you to live with them.”

“I like them, but I don't trust them,” Harry told him, looking down once more.
“Why is that?” Amos asked, eyes wide as if he were stunned by that, loving the look he was seeing on Arthur's face at that revelation.
“They follow too much of the he knows best line when it comes to Professor Dumbledore. They have met my family and seen how they treat me. Their sons have told them about interactions. Yet they say or do nothing. Sorry, I can't trust in that,” Harry said, feeling slightly guilty about that because he did like Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
Stopping, Amos looked around then said, “I think I understand.” Eying the hourglass that was almost out, knowing the hour was about up and he only had time for a couple more questions, he said, “As we're running out of time here, I'll ask this—do you feel safe most of the time? Either at home or in school?”
“No,” Harry told him firmly.
“I don't think most of us can blame you for that,” Amos muttered softly, knowing all could hear it. Looking at the hourglass, he watched the last grain of sand drop, knowing the Veritaserum had just worn off. Smirking, watching Harry slump, he looked at the panel and said, “That's all the questions of my client as the serum has worn off.”

Shaking her head, looking at the young man there, Amelia Bones was trembling slightly. Sighing, she said, “You had questions of Albus Dumbledore and Arabella Figg?”
Looking at the two, Amos grinned, something almost evil, and said, “I do.”
Nodding, looking at Fudge who appeared like he was going to have a heart storm any minute as red and sweaty as he was, she said, “Proceed.”
Patting Harry on the shoulder, Amos said, “Mrs. Figg, did you know about the abuse Mr. Potter suffered? Any of it?”
Trembling badly, Arabella stammered out, “Yes.”

“Did you report it?” He asked, glaring at the woman.
Knowing she was in trouble, though probably not legal, she stuttered, “I told Albus Dumbledore.”
“Thank you,” Amos said smoothly, looking down, pleased. “Albus Dumbledore; you are aware that failure to report signs of physical and sexual abuse is a crime, are you not?”
Looking at the man, stroking his beard nervously after the Silencio was lifted, Albus said, “I am.”
“Yet you failed to do so. Why?” Amos asked, looking at the panel.
“The blood wards around Privet Drive are the only thing that protects Harry.” Albus explained softly.
“Except from being raped and abused by his uncle, correct?” Not waiting for an answer, he pressed on. “From what was said in the memory that was produced by Mr. Potter, you seemed to have knowledge that someone was planning something to get my client to break the law on underage magic. That was very clear. Is this true?”
“Well, yes,” Albus admitted. “I had sources that told me someone in the Ministry was going to try.”
“Yet, rather than put him somewhere safe where someone could prevent it, you left him a place where it was likely to happen, not to mention forcing his friends not to write to him to tell him what was going on and knowing full well how badly he was treated. How is this protecting him?” Hearing the aging headmaster stammer, Amos held up his hand. Shaking his head, he looked at the panel then said, “I've provided sufficient evidence that Mr. Potter did the only thing he could have to protect not only himself, but others, from a serious attack. I've also shown that the people he's accused of doing magic in front of were not just regular Muggles, but his family that is well aware he's a wizard and a squib who knows of our world. With that in mind, I ask that the charges be dropped and the record that he was cited be expunged.” Stopping, he waited.
Hearing murmurs around her and seeing everyone but Fudge and Umbridge nod, Amelia Bones banged her gavel and said, firmly, “Case dismissed.”
Straightening up, Amos looked at Madam Bones and said, “I would ask that the Ministry investigate why one of the Dementors, something they supposedly control, was loose in a Muggle residential area. This proves, to my thinking, that something is amiss here.”
“We'll look into it, Amos,” Amelia said, nodding firmly.
Looking at the Pensieve that still contained all the memories, he then added, “Madam Bones, I would like you to take charge of the memories Mr. Potter provided as I will be in your office in a short time to discuss some serious, grave matters with you.”
Knowing what was coming there, or at least having a damned good guess, she nodded, “I will. Anything else, Amos?”
“No, I believe we're done until I meet with you,” Amos told her smoothly, smirking.
“So be it. Panel dismissed,” Amelia said, banging her gavel once more, standing, glaring at several people before sweeping out.

After talking with his solicitor once he stepped down from the chair, agreeing to follow him to sign some papers, Harry faced a very pale, shaking Arthur Weasley. Quietly, he said, watching Dumbledore and Mrs. Figg leave out of the corner of his eye, liking how pale they were, “I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley. It was the truth, but I would have found a nicer way to say it if asked.”
Smiling at the young man, Arthur told him, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Don't be sorry for telling the truth, Harry. I understand why you said it. I would ask that you and I discuss it on the ride home if we can.”

“I can do that,” Harry told him quietly. Seeing his solicitor motion for him to follow, he told the man, “I'll meet you outside shortly. He has stuff for me to sign.”
“I'll meet you, Harry,” Arthur told him, smiling slightly, nodding.
Following his solicitor into a warded room, Harry flopped in a chair at the table and put his head in his hands. That was, bar none, the worst thing he ever had to do and never wanted to do it again.
Taking a seat across from his client, Amos pushed some papers and a quill over to him. “I just need you to sign those then I have a slight surprise for you. They are just the papers we talked about the other day; the release to make copies.”
Signing them with a shaking hand after a quick glance through them, Harry pushed them back to the man, slumping.
Looking them over, Amos nodded then made the copies and passed them to the young man. “I'll get with Madam Bones this afternoon then send you a message about what I get. I am sure I'll get many things you will like.” Seeing Harry nod, he was about to press on when he heard a soft knock on a hidden door. Smirking, he stood. Patting the young man on the shoulder when his head came up, he said, “Nothing to worry about. It's the surprise I mentioned.” Walking over, he opened it then motioned for Lucius to come in.
Walking in, seeing Harry stand, Lucius made his way to the young man then did something he hadn't before; hugged him close. Rubbing Harry's back, holding him, he mumbled to where only Harry could hear him, “You did very well, Harry. Daddy is proud of you. You did the right thing.”
Not sure what to do, stiffening slightly, Harry then wrapped his arms around Lucius and fisted his hands into the man's robes. Resting his head against Lucius' chest, he sighed, shutting his eyes. This felt good.
Rubbing Harry's back, Lucius soothed, “I know that was hard, but you did the right thing. Daddy will hold you until you calm down and feel better.”
Nodding to let the man know he heard, Harry just leaned against him, still clinging to him.
Holding him tightly, Lucius looked at Amos, who was smiling slightly then nodded. He would stay here until Harry felt better and calmed down. He couldn't do much in court, only what he had managed, but he could, and would, do this.
It took about fifteen minutes, but Harry finally calmed down and loosened his hold on Lucius' robes. Softly, he mumbled, hoping his solicitor didn't hear, “Thank you, Daddy.”

“There is nothing to thank me for, Harry,” Lucius told him running a hand over his head. “I promised to be here for you and I am.” Putting a finger under the young man's chin, he tilted his head up then smiled down at him. “I'm proud of you.” Seeing Harry smiled at him a little, he leaned down and kissed the young man for the first time.
Though stunned by that, and slightly embarrassed, knowing who else was in the room, Harry leaned into it, liking how it felt.
Breaking it off, Lucius said, “You need to get home. Others are waiting to hear what is going on.” Lowering his voice, he said, “I overheard Arthur and Albus talking. There is going to be a big meeting tonight. While they do that, get the mirror and we'll talk. Acceptable?”

Nodding, Harry told him, “I will.”
Brushing his lips against Harry's, Lucius then stepped back. After a nod to Amos, he vanished out the door to ensure no one thought anything was off.
Smiling a bit, though flushing, Harry grabbed the papers off the table then looked at his solicitor.
“It's fine, Harry,” Amos soothed. “I think I better understand why Lucius is helping now. Nothing to worry about. Let's get you to Arthur so you can go home. I'll let you know what goes on today.”
“Alright,” Harry mumbled, tucking the papers in his jeans pocket then followed the man out.

Sitting in the seat across from Mr. Weasley on the Underground, Harry watched out the window, sipping his soda. He was feeling better, no doubt there, but was still uptight. Looking in Mr. Weasley's direction when the man said his name, he waited.
“I would like to ask something of you, Harry,” Arthur said softly. Seeing the young man nod, he pressed on, “With what I heard and saw today, I can understand why you feel the way you do. What I would like is for another chance. Molly and I—well, we would like to be able to prove to you that you should trust us. I can safely say that, in your shoes, I wouldn't trust us either. If you give us a chance, we'll try to prove we can be. We can't go back, we know that, but we can try to prove we'll do what is right by you.”
Looking down and thinking it over, Harry then nodded slowly. “Alright, I can try.” Stopping, he said, voice soft, “No offense here, but Ron—I can't there. It's—there is too much for me to try again.”
“I think I understand why,” Arthur told him softly. “Ron is spoiled, though he doesn't see it that way. Not in a material way, but in others. He's always had people around him who love and care for him. We might not be able to give him material things, something he is jealous of when others have them, but we've given him what you apparently never had. I don't think he realizes, at least now, what a difference that makes.”

“I would give up all the money I have to have mum and dad back,” Harry said honestly, shaking his head. “To get what I have, that's what I had to lose.”
“And that is something I don't think he understands. We'll talk to him about it, but I understand your point there,” Arthur told him softly. “We'll try, Harry, I promise. And we'll prove it to you. Just give us the chance.”
Looking at the man, Harry nodded, but said nothing.
Smiling and leaning back, Arthur sipped his own drink that Harry had bought in the station and began asking questions about it.

Walking into the kitchen, seeing Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, Remus and Professor Snape there, the first thing Harry wanted to do was throw himself on his godfather and curl up to him. He couldn't though, not with Mrs. Weasley around.
Looking at his godson, Sirius asked, quietly, “Well?”

“The charges were all dismissed and the record that they were leveled was expunged,” Arthur told them all, smiling a little. Seeing his wife getting excited, he put a hand on her to stop her from rushing over to Harry. Quietly, he said, “I need to get back to work. Molly, when I get home, we need to talk.”
Eyes widening at the tone in Arthur's voice, Molly nodded then glanced warily at Harry, who had flopped onto the bench by Sirius and put his head on the table. Wringing her hands, not sure what to make of this, she was about to say something when Arthur spoke again.
Patting his wife on the shoulder, he said, “You might want to get home to make sure that the kids haven’t blown up the house.” Looking at Harry, he added, “I think Harry needs to rest a little anyway. It's been a long morning.”
Taking that for what it was, Molly nodded. Smiling at the young man, she said, “We'll see you later in the week on your birthday, Harry.” Nodding to the others, she walked out with her husband, throwing a worried glance over her shoulder at the young man there. Something big had happened and she now wondered what it was.
Waiting until the two left, Sirius then pulled Harry close and held him. Stroking his head, he said, “It's over. You can relax now.”
Sighing, Harry muttered, lifting his head and all but clinging to Sirius, “I never want to go through that again.”

Holding Harry tightly, Sirius patted his back. “I bet. Relax a while then you can fill us in.”
Nodding, Harry said nothing, just holding Sirius.
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Preventative Measures