The doors opened and Harry jerked to a stop. The courtroom was bigger than the one he'd been in before, and a good majority of the occupants were intimidating looking witches and wizards in those same plum colored robes with a W emblazoned on the chest. The Wizengamot appeared not to have changed. Harry recognized a few faces. He was comforted when he found Madam Bones' firmly jawed face to his left, but the sour face of Fudge, the sweet face of Umbridge, and the smug face of Lucius Malfoy squandered any positive feelings he'd been having.

Harry knew for a fact that Malfoy was not on the Wizengamot. He was seated closer to the ground than the plum outfitted members who sat behind Fudge. Harry wondered what Lucius Malfoy had said to convince Fudge to let him inside. Harry dreaded to think that the man may have been called as a witness.

A hand rested softly on his shoulder. "Keep moving, Harry," said the soft voice of Arthur Weasley in his ear.

Harry took a hesitant step forward, his eyes searching the crowd.

Harry's heart jumped when he looked to his right. In the front of the stands sat Molly Weasley, Remus Lupin, Professor McGonagall Ginny, Fred, George, Tonks, Mad Eye Moody, and Ron and Hermione.

Harry wasn't expecting the feeling of warmth that rose up in him when he saw his friends.

But then the hand on his shoulder vanished as Arthur and Sirius were led away by the Auror to join the others.

Harry swallowed dryly and looked at the chair. The chair, again, had the chains he had seen come to life in Dumbledore's penseive. He eyed them warily.

"You are familiar with the proceedings, Mr. Potter," said Fudge, his voice cracking the silence like a whip, "One would think that I shouldn't have to tell you to sit down, yet here we are."

Harry clenched his teeth, annoyed, but did as he was told. The chains on the chair did not move. Harry let out a silent breath of relief.

"Very well," said Fudge, "I believe it is time we get started. Mr. Weasley?"

Harry's heart gave a painful stab; he had forgotten Percy would be there. Harry wondered how Mrs. Weasley was managing.

"Ready, Sir," Percy's voice answered promptly.

It was so eerily similar to the last time Harry had been on trial that Harry had to consciously remind himself that, yes, this was actually happening again.

"Disciplinary hearing of the twenty-sixth of December into offences committed under the Decree for International Security by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." Fudge's voice was crisp and eager, and Harry fidgeted in his chair. "Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley. Witnesses will be called forth as the trial progresses. Main witness for defense is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Harry turned in his chair and searched for Dumbledore, whose white beard was nowhere in sight.

"It appears that Dumbledore will not be attending–" Harry's heart dropped, but then the doors behind him opened and Dumbledore strode in.

"It appears that your methods of communication are lacking, Minister," said Dumbledore calmly, as though he were simply out for a stroll and had happened upon them all there by a happy mistake, "As this is the second time that I was not notified of the Wizengamot's change of schedule."

Harry started. The trial's schedule had changed? Harry hadn't known. They hadn't told him anything.

"However," said Dumbledore pleasantly, "I am pleased to say that, despite this negligence on your part, I have arrived relatively on time."

"This was no negligence of mine," said Fudge, who was looking a tad bit disconcerted, "It is not the Wizengamot's fault that you were not properly informed. We sent word of the changes accordingly. That you did not receive them lies no blame on us."

It was all so déjà vu to Harry. Fudge was playing his dirty tricks again. Not only that, but they were the same dirty tricks, as though he hoped that he could catch them the second time around.

"Let us cease wasting time and proceed with the trial," said Fudge impatiently as Percy scribbled everything down furiously.

"Please," said Dumbledore, standing to Harry's right.

"Harry James Potter," Fudge called, "You have been charged of treason against the Ministry of Magic for the founding of a group called Dumbledore's Army in which you educated and instructed fellow witches and wizards in the arts of magical combat and charms with the intent of overrunning the Ministry. You have been lying to the public about a certain man's return from the dead to issue a state of panic for the sole purpose of wreaking havoc among the Ministry in order to ease your coup.

"You are Harry James Potter, yes?"

"Yes," said Harry, a little breathless.

"And how do you plead?" asked Fudge.

"Not guilty," said Harry desperately, already knowing how it must look. He hadn't been planning to overthrow the government– but he had created an illegal defense group– and he wasn't spreading rumors to take over the Ministry– but he was trying to speak the truth, which just so happened to be received as a lie.

The situation was full of too many half truths. Because while they weren't correct, they weren't so terribly far off the mark. They had enough accurate facts and evidence to make the absurd plausible.

"You did not create the group called Dumbledore's Army?" Fudge asked.

"No, I mean yes, I did, but–"

"And did you not instruct those who attended on how to fight?"

"Well, yes, I did, but–"

"And what reasoning would you place behind your actions then?" asked Fudge

Harry swallowed. Fudge had backed him into a corner.

"Mr. Potter?" he prompted.

"I wanted my friends to know how to protect themselves in a fight," said Harry darkly, clenching his hands into fists. "Merlin knows they'll never learn anything with a certain defense professor in place."

Harry saw Umbridge twitch in his peripheral vision.

"And what, pray tell," said Fudge, "Would they need protecting from?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You know what, Minister."

"If you would speak it allowed, please, for the benefit of the court."

Harry sat up straight and stared with a heavy gaze. Harry saw a few of the Wizengamot retreat in their seats, leaning back and looking uncomfortable. "Voldemort."

There were gasps and hushed murmers.

"Death Eaters," continued Harry.

Harry's eyes locked with Lucius Malfoy's for half of a second, and Harry forced himself to look away.

"You may not believe it, Minister," said Harry, "But I do. And I will not sit idly by and watch as you all plead ignorance to a fight that has already started. I just hope that I've taught my friends enough so as to keep them from getting killed."

Fudge stared, and Harry waited.

And then Fudge laughed. "A heartwarming story, Mr. Potter. That you believe yourself better qualified to teach fellow students than an experienced Ministry employee says quite a great deal about your state of mind, I think, even if the reason you were teaching was fabricated. Do you really think yourself so above your peers that you felt the need to instruct them? How demeaning for them, to be taught by a lesser wizard. I've read about your arrogance in the prophet, Potter, but this really takes things to the next level."

"I don't think myself better than them," Harry immediately argued, wondering why Dumbledore hadn't stepped in yet, defended him.

"Don't you?" asked Fudge. "Why you, then, and not an older, more qualified wizard? Why not take your concerns to a teacher, if not because your actions were illegal?"

"Because Umbridge has turned Hogwarts into a regimented dictatorship," snapped Harry before he could help himself.

"Ahem."

Harry looked down. He took a deep breath. He could not afford to lose his control like that.

"Excuse me, Minister, but I couldn't help but interject as it sounds as if– please, correct me if I heard wrong– but it sounds as if Mr. Potter is using me as justification for his actions."

"No, indeed, that sounds to be exactly what he was implying," agreed Fudge.

"No."

Harry looked up, hopeful.

"No, that is not what he was implying at all," said the sharp voice of Madam Bones. "What he was implying, Madam Umbridge, is that, given the circumstances, he was left with no other option but to act discreetly."

Harry felt a surge of affection for the woman. She, at least, looked as though she thoroughly believed that this entire trial was ludicrous.

"His intent is not the issue," said Fudge, annoyed, "What matters is that Potter went about it illegally–"

"Intent is very much the issue," argued Madam Bones. "If Potter is sincere in his claim that his intent was only to protect his friends, then the crime of creating Dumbledore's Army falls under the jurisdiction of the school, and his punishment, therefore, by Albus Dumbledore."

"I think you'll find, Madam Bones," interjected Umbridge in her tart voice, "That punishment at Hogwarts falls to the High Inquisitor, which is a title that I hold dear."

"Fine, then," said Bones, "Give him detention! But he shouldn't be here, on trial, for treason!"

There were murmurs among the Wizengamot at this.

Fudge looked panicked. "Calling the first witness!" he cried. "Miss Marietta Edgecombe."

A man stood and whispered in Fudge's ear. Fudge turned purple.

"It appears as though Miss Edgecombe is refusing to speak," blustered Fudge.

Harry would bet anything that it had to do with Hermione's hex. Way to go Hermione.

"No matter, no matter," said Fudge, "We have the transcript of her testament as evidence. Miss Edgecombe claimed that Mr. Potter gathered students together on multiple occasions to teach them curses and defensive spells that are respective to dueling. The title of the group itself was deemed Dumbledore's Army. Care to explain the reasoning behind that, Mr. Potter?"

"It is at this point that I would like to call a witness, Minister" said Dumbledore suddenly and Harry jumped, having forgotten the man's presence in his extended silence.

Fudge let out a bit of a huff, "Is it relevant to the topic, Dumbledore, or are you just trying to evade the question?"

"It is very much relevant," said Dumbledore gravely.

"Oh, very well," conceded Fudge. "Who will you be calling?"

"Ginnevra Weasley, daughter of Molly and Arthur Weasley, resident of the Burrow."