8. The Woes of Mrs Weasley

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"Maybe I'm a fucking waste, just filling up the empty space" ~ Something's Gotta Give, All Time Low

Harry's point of view

Cleared...I'm cleared

Dumbledore leaves the courtroom abruptly, without a single word to me, and the Wizengamot begin to file out, too. However, I stay seated for a few moments, struggling with feelings of shock and relief. I finally stand. Nobody seems to be paying me any attention, which is fine by me, except for the toad-like witch on Fudge's right; she's now staring down at me with a stern expression. I can only imagine the type of colourful language Haylee would use to describe her if she were here...

I take a few tentative steps towards the exit, and when nobody calls after me, I break into a very fast walk. I take the last few steps at a run, wrench the door open and almost collide with Mr Weasley, who is standing right by the door with Dad, both of them pale and apprehensive.

"Dumbledore didn't say - "

"Cleared," I say brightly, pulling the door closed behind me, "of all charges!"

Beaming, Dad pulls me into a hug, laughing out of pure relief.

"Harry, that's wonderful!" Mr Weasley exclaims. "Well, of course, they couldn't have found you guilty, not on the evidence, but even so, I can't pretend I wasn't - "

But Mr Weasley breaks off, because the courtroom door has opened again, and the remaining Wizengamot is beginning to file out.

"Merlin's Beard!" Dad exclaims, pulling me aside to let them past. "You were tried by the full court? Even I wasn't tried by the full court..."

"I think so," I say quietly.

A few of the witches and wizards greet Mr Weasley, whilst most of them give Dad weary smiles, their eyes laced with concern. Clearly, there are still people who don't trust his coming back.

"I'm going to take you straight back so you can tell the others the good news," Mr Weasley tells us, beckoning us forward. "I'll drop you off on the way to the toilet in Bethnal Green. Come on..."

"So, what will you have to do about the toilet?" I ask, grinning. Everything is suddenly becoming five times funnier. It's starting to sink in; I'm cleared, I'm going back to Hogwarts.

"Oh, it's a simple enough anti-jinx," Mr Weasley explains, as we climb the stairs, "but it's not so much having to repair the damage, it's more the attitude behind the vandalism, Harry. Muggle-baiting might strike some wizards as funny, but it's an expression of something much deeper and nastier, and I for one - "

Mr Weasley breaks off mid-sentence. We've just reached the ninth-level corridor and Cornelius Fudge is standing a few feet away, talking quietly to a man with sleek blond hair and a pointed, pale face.

The second man turns at the sound of our footsteps. He, too, breaks off mid conversation, his cold grey eyes narrowed.

"Well, well, well...Patronus Potter," says Lucius Malfoy cooly.

I feel winded, as though I've just walked into something solid. The last time I saw those cold grey eyes through slits in a Death Eater's hood and last heard that man's voice jeering in a dark graveyard while Voldemort tortured Haylee and I. Perhaps it's a good thing she's not here, seeing Lucius Malfoy is the last thing she needs.

I can't believe that Lucius Malfoy dares look me in the face; I can't believe that he's here, in the Ministry of Magic, or that Fudge is talking to him when Haylee had told him mere weeks ago that Malfoy was a Death Eater.

"The Minister was just telling me about your lucky escape, Potter," Mr Malfoy drawls. "Quite astonishing, the way you continue to wiggle out of very tight holes...snakelike, in fact."

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