DRARRY - Wonderful Wheezes

Chapter Two

Harry stood in the Ministry lift feeling tempted to spell his eyes open. The previous night had been hard, leaving him with just three hours of sleep and the horrifyingly realistic image of Sirius getting a dementor's kiss seared into his brain.

He was supposed to meet with the Ministry hack here at half eight. The owl he'd received had instructed him to arrive fifteen minutes early, go down to Level 9, take the stairs to Level 10, and head towards the third courtroom. When he got to his stop, Harry was the only one left on the lift. Everyone else had gotten off a few floors earlier, leaving him to brave the way alone.

It still gave him chills, being here. The Hall of Prophecy was just a few turns away, but he forced himself not to think about it. 

When Harry got to Courtroom Three, he paused at the sight of a familiar face. Blaise Zabini. What in Merlin's name was he doing here?

Zabini spotted him and clicked closed what looked to be a muggle mobile, stuffing it into the pocket of his robes. He then smiled in his wide, disarming way, teeth gleamingly white, and straightened up his spine. He was certainly handsome—more so even than he'd been at Hogwarts—and Harry felt himself flush involuntarily.

Now was not the time nor the place.

"Well, if it isn't the Golden Boy."

"In the flesh."

Zabini stuck out a hand and, after a moment's hesitation, Harry shook it. He didn't hold much against Zabini, after all. Despite being one of Malfoy's cronies, he'd never done anything all that bad to Harry and his friends, even if he was an arse.

"You're the inspector?" Harry asked. It seemed like a very fitting job. If there was one thing people would remember about Zabini, it was how much he loved judging people.

Zabini barked a short laugh, eyes shining. "Hardly. I'm the barrister."

"Er... what do I need that for, exactly?"

"It's a muggle term, you haven't heard it?" Zabini did not look impressed. "I thought you grew up with muggles."

"I know what a barrister is. I'm asking why I need one. The letter didn't mention this."

Zabini sighed once, letting out a puff of air. "I'll be presenting your case. I thought that would be fairly obvious, my apologies."

Harry took it all back. Zabini wasn't that attractive, and when he turned around to open the chamber door, Harry did not take even a small peek at his arse.

The inside of the courtroom was mostly empty, but it looked only moderately less intimidating than the one he'd been in the summer before fifth year. It had the same low benches and black stone as that one, with identical torches lighting the faces of the witches and wizards who were present.

Across the room, he thought he saw a glimpse of white-blond hair that he recognised, but as soon as he looked, it was gone.

A little old woman was sitting at the head of the room, and she tapped her gavel just thrice, waiting in silence for everyone to look at her.

The creak of her voice carried across the room effortlessly, though he hadn't seen her cast an Amplifying Charm. "This is a hearing to determine if Harry J. Potter—financier of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and henceforth referred to as the debtor—will be allowed an attempt at salvaging the reputation of said business after and as soon as the appropriate sum of 150 Galleons has been paid to the order of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Mr Potter, your statement, if you will."