Chapter Thirteen – Reap Sow

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros and some other high falutin' companies. Me, I'm just a PR professional. I don't profess to own - and would never dream of making any money off - JKR's wonderful world. However, its her sandbox and she's left the gate unlatched so we can go in and play a bit. Which, I've done.

Chapter Thirteen – Reap Sow

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The next morning, Harry received a notice via a Ministry owl while sitting at the Hufflepuff table with Daphne, Susan and Hannah. It was a short note from Madam Bones informing him an emergency session of the Wizengamot had been called for that afternoon. The note also told him to make himself ready in neat and tidy robes to be picked up by Cygnus from the Entrance Hall at 1.30pm. And that a note had been sent to his Head of House, Professor Flitwick, informing him he would be away for a few hours 'on family business'.

He also found Daphne had received a similar letter, as she would be joining him in attending the Wizengamot trial.

He also received, via Hedwig this time, his copy of that morning's Daily Prophet. He sighed when he saw the headline.

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BOY-WHO-LIVED BETROTHED TO GREENGRASS HEIRESS

In a stunning surprise it has been learned by the Daily Prophet that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, through a long time existing betrothal contract, is betrothed to Miss Daphne Greengrass, eldest daughter and Heiress of Lord Cygnus Greengrass, reports Rita Skeeter.

The betrothal contract, believed to have been signed by the Late Lord James Potter and Lord Greengrass, was activated by Mister Potter not long ago in accordance with his deceased father's wishes.

Both Mister Potter and Miss Greengrass are current First Years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Readers will remember it was only a week ago today that Mister Potter first entered the Great Hall at Hogwarts ready to be sorted. However, readers will also recall how the Daily Prophet brought you the news of what actually happened.

Mister Potter remained in a private ward at St Mungo's until the early evening of last Thursday, when he immediately rejoined the student population at Hogwarts. Mister Potter, unlike Potters before him, was then surprisingly sorted into Ravenclaw. Clearly, Mister Potter has inherited the intelligence of his late muggleborn mother, Lady Lily Potter nee Evans.

Further, Mister Potter does not wear spectacles; nor does he bear a scar where the Killing Curse supposedly struck. This brings into question just how much of that night we all believe to be true is actually true at all.

It is unknown how this betrothal will affect the balance of power within the Wizengamot. However, the Daily Prophet will bring you the news, as it relates, as we always have.

For all the young witches out there hoping they would be the lucky one to capture the heart of the famous Mister Potter; sorry, girls; he's taken. And it appears he's been taken since 1980 or 81.

More on the supposed Boy-Who-Lived, Mister Harry Potter and the House of Potter: pg 2.

More on Miss Daphne Greengrass and the House of Greengrass: pg 2.

An analysis of the effect this will have on the balance of power within the Wizengamot: pg 3.

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"Damn it!" muttered Harry, flipping to the next page. Looking at his betrothed, he said, "The Daily Prophet just outed us. It's now public knowledge."

Daphne just shrugged and said, "You knew it was going to happen sooner rather than later."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I was just hoping we'd have another few days and could get the trial out of the way before the story broke."

"Why?" she asked. "At least this way, while people are going to be focussed on us and our betrothal, Madam Bones will be able to slip your godfather's trial in under their noses."

Looking up and thinking about it for a few moments, he said, "You're right. It'll have people looking at the left hand while the right hand is doing all the work. Thank you, for that."

"That's what being involved with me will do for you, Mister Potter," she said with a small smile. "You have my political knowledge at your disposal."

"Smart, beautiful and modest," said Harry.

"That I am, good sir," she said with an air of smugness.

"Actually, I was referring to me," he replied with the same air.

Susan and Hannah broke into giggles.

Daphne whacked him on the arm and exclaimed, "Prat!"

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At precisely 1.30pm both Harry and Daphne were standing in the Entrance Hall waiting for Daphne's father to arrive and collect them. He did not disappoint.

With Professor Flitwick there as Head of House for Ravenclaw and representing Professor Snape as Head of House for Slytherin - the two felt he didn't want to be there due to the current threat he had over his head - they were joined on time by Cygnus.

A few words to Professor Flitwick and the promise they'd be returning as soon as their business was concluded, the party of three departed the castle and began to walk towards the main gates. Cygnus informed them both they'd be using the fireplace in the Three Broomsticks to floo to the atrium in the Ministry.

After a few words between Daphne and her father, Cygnus said to Harry. "Alright, Harry - I've been quite the patient man - How did you do it?"

"Do what, sir?" Harry innocently replied.

"You know very well what I'm talking about," he replied with a smirk. "I watched the sorting, remember. And I know you fooled the Hat. I want to know how you did it."

Harry laughed while Daphne looked on, confused.

Nodding, he said, "After I read what traits by which the students were sorted, I analysed all my emotional traits in as coldly a logical manner as I could," he said. "I then went through my mindscape looking for what the Hat would use to sort me. With me so far?"

Cygnus nodded and gave a verbal nod of agreement.

"I then took those memories that would be in favour of sorting me into either Gryffindor or Slytherin and buried them as far as I could. Then I took the memories that would be against sorting me into Gryffindor or Slytherin, such as thinking Gryffindors were too stupid to be sorted into another house or were nothing more than cannon fodder, and thinking that I wanted to put a pillow over Malfoy's face and smother him in his sleep, and brought those forward. I made them seem more important to me.

"That then made it safe for me not to be sorted into either of those two Houses. Next, I brought right to the front all my desires to make friends and work hard, without hiding any traits about my intelligence or wit. I was pretty - 'slap-dash' - with that.

"When the Hat was placed on my head and started rummaging through, I sent mental shouts of 'Friends! Loyalty! Hard work!' and made it like I was trying to cover up my eidetic memory. The Hat found the not-so-subtle attempts by me to influence it to put me in Hufflepuff; and, because of the lack of subtlety there, did not look any deeper. Ergo, it did what I wanted and put me in Ravenclaw. However, I've no doubt I'd have been happy to be in Hufflepuff if I'd gotten things wrong, and it actually went with what it thought was my first choice."

Cygnus was laughing out loud as he was walking along.

Daphne, who had slipped her arm into Harry's elbow as soon as they started walking, whispered out loud, "I don't believe you pranked the Hat!"

Harry chuckled and said, "There's nothing to say it wouldn't have put me in Ravenclaw, anyway."

"Oh," he said. "That reminds me. While the Hat and I were having our little chat, he told me the Headmaster wanted him - it - to put me in Gryffindor. I couldn't get out of him why, though."

"I remember," replied Cygnus, turning to look at him. "I can't believe he did that."

"Well, I got the feeling it was more like a very strong suggestion," replied Harry. "What I felt from the Hat was that it had no intention of allowing the Headmaster's - suggestion - to influence it in it's job."

"Still, for the Headmaster to try and influence the outcome of a sorting..." said Cygnus. "If that becomes popular knowledge, it goes even further to show why Dumbledore should be removed as Headmaster."

"It'll be my word against Dumbledore's if he chooses to lie about it, though," said Harry. "I don't know how much value it is to know that information."

"I don't know either," said Cygnus. "However, it's still information that may prove valuable later. Something to remember, Harry; just because information gathered now seems of no or little value, there's nothing to say it won't be of much greater value later. Alright?"

"Alright, I understand. Thank you, Cygnus," replied Harry.

Soon, the party of three walked out of the gates and walked across the street of Hogsmeade into the Three Broomsticks. They floo'ed to the atrium at the Ministry immediately.

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Stepping out of one of the many fireplaces that stood down each side of the hall that was the Ministry atrium, Harry was able to successfully step clear without falling over.

'I'm thinking I'm getting the hang of this,' he thought. 'It's all in the timing.'

Cygnus led them down the length of the atrium to the security gate. The guard on duty weighed their wands and offered a receipt. Cygnus glared at the man for a moment before the guard stammered an apology and offered them back their wands.

"What was that all about?" asked Harry.

"Part of the security of the Ministry is that visitors must hand over their wands before entering beyond the atrium," replied Cygnus. "However, as I - and soon enough you - are on the Wizengamot, we are considered employees. That means we carry our wands through with us. The guard was being disrespectful by not immediately offering our wands back as we entered."

"Good to know," said Harry.

Cygnus led them to the bank of elevators. To Harry's surprise, he discovered what he thought to be vertical elevators, could actually move along all three axies. A minute later, they were on Level Two in a narrow but long foyer. Directly ahead from them was a door marked with the title 'Auror Dept.'. To their right were a series of doors. Cygnus led them to the fifth and last doors, double doors, on the right.

Two aurors in full auror robes stood just inside the doors. They gave the three of them a once over before letting them through; and Cygnus guided the pair of them up a narrow set of stairs into what was clearly a visitors' gallery. He, however, walked across the room and out another set of doors.

Harry gave Daphne a quizzical look before she smiled and said, "Out that door where Daddy went is where the judicial panel meet. As Daddy is part of the Wizengamot of long standing he can - demand to be part of the panel. That's what he's gone to do.

Looking around, Harry saw the room was quite circular. Almost two-thirds of the room was ringed in tiered seats that appeared quite plush. There was a gap at each end, one of which led to where the party of three entered. The last one-third was the hard wooden benches up which he and Daphne, plus a few others, were sitting. Looking over, Harry could see at least a couple of them were journalists that had camped outside his hospital private room while he was at Saint Mungo's. That lead him to believe the others were just as likely to be of the same profession. The two sat quietly chatting to each other in whispers while they waited to find out what was going on.

At just before 2.15pm the doors, out through which Cygnus had left, reopened and a stream of wizards and witches wearing plum coloured robes entered the room and immediately ascended into the plush covered seating opposite. Harry was surprised to see Dumbledore take seat to the immediate left of the centre seat. A rather obese man carrying a lime green bowler sat on the immediate right.

A few moments later, they watched as an elderly witch walked in with Madam Bones. Both ascended into the tiers. The elderly witch went directly to the centre seat while Madam Bones sat on a seat right at the nearest end.

"Oh, good," whispered Daphne to Harry. "Madam Marchbanks is presiding. She's strict but very fair."

As soon as she sat down, Harry noticed the clock on the wall click as it struck 2.15pm on the dot. She picked up a gavel sitting next to her right hand and gave it two short raps on the bench before her and a nod to a young man sitting at the other end of the front bench from Madam Bones.

In a clear voice the young man said, "Hear ye! We are gathered this eighth day of September in the year nineteen ninety-one in emergency session to sit in judgement. Madam Griselda Marchbanks presides."

Madam Marchbanks asked in a clear voice, "Madam Bones, for whom do we sit in judgement?"

Amelia replied, "We first sit in judgement of two muggles who are charged with crimes against the young Heir Apparent of a Noble and Most Ancient House. Those charges are: Ten counts of child abuse physical; ten counts of child abuse psychological; ten counts of child neglect; ten counts of child endangerment; and attempting, through ongoing abuse physical and psychological, to end the line of a Noble and Most Ancient House."

There was a great deal of angry mutterings coming from the members. Harry saw Dumbledore's reaction and whispered to Daphne, "Look at Dumbledore. I think he's fully aware of who's about to be brought in but is shocked at the charges, anyway."

"Very well," said Madam Marchbanks. "And what is the name of this unfortunate Heir Apparent?"

"Mister Harry James Potter," said Amelia.

There was even angrier mutterings and not a few shouts of outrage. Dumbledore looked positively ill.

Madam Marchbanks banged her gavel a couple of times until she had control of the session again. Once everyone had quieted down, she called "Bring in the accused."

Harry turned at the sounds of doors being opened and the two people he expected to see being led in by two aurors each. Two male aurors had hold of Vernon's upper arms on either side. Two females were the same with Petunia. His aunt and uncle both looked quite haggard.

As soon as Vernon saw the sitting members he began to rant at them. "What is the meaning of this, you freaks? I am Vernon W Dursley; a fine and upstanding member of British society. I shall not be treated this way. How dare..."

"Silence!" bellowed Madam Marchbanks.

Vernon's jaw snapped shut so quickly, Harry thought he heard the man's teeth rattle.

Meanwhile, the aurors forced both into side-by-side chairs, where chains that were draped from them immediately snapped to life and bound them to the chairs. Petunia screamed in fear while Vernon futilely tried to use brute strength to force his way out of them.

They calmed back down after a few seconds of pointless attempts.

Madam Marchbanks intoned, "Vernon Winston Dursley, Petunia Anne Dursley nee Evans, you have been charged with ten counts of child abuse physical; ten counts of child abuse psychological; ten counts of child neglect; ten counts of child endangerment; and attempting, through ongoing abuse physical and psychological, to end the line of a Noble and Most Ancient House. How do you plead to the charges."

"I do not recognise this injustice!" bawled Vernon with venom. "You're only freaks! We only recognise the authority of the real court system of the United Kingdom, not this nonsense..."

"Silence!" bellowed Madam Marchbanks again.

Again, Vernon's jaw snapped shut.

"Your plea of not guilty has been entered into the record. And you, Madam Dursley, how do you plead?"

"Not guilty!" she haughtily replied.

"Very well," said Madam Marchbanks. "So entered." The old witch then turned to Madam Bones and said, "Madam Bones, please present your case."

What followed was like a revisited horror story for Harry. All the memories he had given to Madam Bones of growing up with the Dursleys were put on display above the pensieve that had been brought in for that purpose. They weren't all of his memories, but they were indicting enough.

Other memories were also played. Memories from someone else. These memories were of aurors going to Privett Drive to talk to the Dursleys and being verbally abused. Vernon had even tried to hit one of them, requiring the auror to hit him with a Petrification Curse. There were memories of a minute inspection of the cupboard under the stairs, of Dudley's bedroom, and that there was a spare bedroom that was partly full of Dudley's things, mostly broken. A running commentary of what was found was provided by an auror clearly speaking to the record of the memory.

During the whole time the memories were playing, Daphne had developed almost a death grip on Harry's arm. From only a few minutes in she had buried her head into his shoulder and was softly weeping. He asked her once in a whisper if he should take her outside. She refused, saying she would sit through it all, even if she couldn't watch a lot of it.

At one point Harry told her to look at Dumbledore's face. The old man was sitting there, openly weeping. It wasn't an act.

On a few occasions different people vomited. The mess was very quickly vanished.

When the whole display was finished, the room sat in utter silence.

It took a good few seconds before Madam Marchbanks looked to Amelia and asked for other evidence against the accused. Madam Bones stood and read out the list of injuries that Harry was suffering from when he was brought into Saint Mungo's. There were quite a few and it took several minutes to read through the list.

When she was done Amelia said, "I can have the healers brought in to give evidence to confirm or clarify this information if it is the wish of the court."

"No," said Madam Marchbanks is a near croak. "I don't think it will be necessary."

After a few calming breaths she asked, "Is there any further evidence against the accused?"

"No, Madam Marchbanks," replied Amelia.

Harry heard one lone voice say quite clearly, "Thank Merlin!" is a very heartfelt manner.

Madam Marchbanks then turned to the accused pair and said, "Mister and Missus Dursley, in the pursuit of fairness, do you have any evidence to provide in your defence?"

Again, Vernon near bellowed out in a snarl, "The freak deserved all of it! I intend to break your freakishness out of him if it's the last thing I do! And how dare you freaks invade my home and kidnap us! When the real police hear about this they'll take care of you all, thank you very much! They know I'm a fine..."

"Silence!" bellowed Madam Marchbanks for a third time.

Again, Vernon's jaw snapped shut.

Looking at Petunia, she said, "And you, Missus Dursley? Our records indicate you are the blood relative of Mister Potter being the younger sister of his mother. Is that correct?"

Petunia, with tears rolling down her cheeks, simply nodded.

"And you have been aware of magic and the magical world since you were a small child. Is this correct?"

Again, Petunia simply nodded. This time with her head bowed.

"Missus Dursley," said the old witch with an angry voice. "I knew your sister quite well. She was considered the brightest witch, or wizard, of her generation. She fought against the evil that was ripping our world apart, the same evil that would have eventually ripped your own world apart. In essence, she fought for you and your way of life. And she gave her life for it.

"How you could then do this..." she gestured to where the pensieve sat on its plinth "...to your own nephew, to her own child, to the one we consider one of our greatest heroes, simply horrifies me."

Hesitating for a few moments, Madam Marchbanks then said, "Petunia Dursley, do you have any evidence to provide in your own defence?"

"We never wanted him," she began. "He was dumped on us without us being asked. If we were asked, we would have said, we didn't want him."

With her voice gaining strength and anger she said, "But, no. Albus-bloody-Dumbledore said we had to take him in. We had to provide him a home. He didn't even have the decency to come and discuss it with us. He dumped the baby freak on our doorstep with a letter on top. A letter!

"In his letter, he said that, as long as Harry could call our home his home, there were - blood wards - in place to protect us. To protect us from freaks like you! Well, they didn't do much good, did they? You still came and ruined our lives!

"Why won't you people leave us alone?" she near-screamed. "We don't want any part of your world. We just want to be ordinary people, free to live our lives the way we want!" before subsiding into wails and sobbing.

Waiting a few moments for Petunia to subside again, Madam Marchbanks said, "As there is no further evidence to present. I now call..."

Surging to his feet, Harry called, "Wait!"

Angry mutterings came from the tiers as Madam Marchbanks banged her gavel on the bench a couple of times.

"And, who are you to interrupt this trial, young man?" she asked with a stern expression.

Standing up straight, Harry Replied in a firm but carrying voice, "Harry James Potter. Heir Apparent to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter."

Madam Marchbanks stared back for a few moments while ignoring the mutterings going on around her. When the noise subsided again, she said, "I see. Well, if there is anyone who has the right to interrupt this trial, it's you. What can we do for you, young man?"

Firmly, he said, "I wish to speak in defence of my aunt and uncle, Vernon and Petunia Dursley."

There were louder mumblings and even a few angry exclamations from the tiers. Madam Marchbanks needed to bang her gavel a few times to bring order back to the proceedings.

"While you bear significant resemblance to James Potter, and you have the same colour eyes as Lily Potter, you lack the famous scar," she replied. "Unless you have it hidden under a glamour?"

"There is no longer a scar," replied Harry. "However, there are three among you who can verify my identity; as well as this..." and held up his right hand bearing the ring of House Potter. "Plus, my aunt and uncle can verify I am who I claim to be."

"And who are the three among us who can verify you?" she asked.

"Madam Amelia Bones, Regent Bones; Dowager Lady Augusta Longbottom, Regent Longbottom; and Lord Cygnus Greengrass," he replied.

Looking to Madam Bones she asked, "Amelia?"

"Yes, Madam Marchbanks, he is who he claims to be."

Looking to Gran she asked, "Gus?"

"Yes, Griselda, he is Harry Potter."

"Cygnus?"

"Yes, Madam Marchbanks. That's Harry Potter my daughter has been crying upon during these proceedings."

Nodding, Madam Marchbanks turned back to Harry and said, "Then, please come down to the floor, Mister Potter, and speak."

Giving Daphne's shoulder a gentle squeeze, Harry descended the stairs and walked out to stand in the middle of the floor. His aunt and uncle watched him come. His uncle, with malice; his aunt, with hope.

As he walked down, Harry thought carefully about what he wanted to say. Reaching the centre of the floor he stopped for a few moments with his head down a little.

He then looked up and, in a gentle cadence, said, "Honoured members of the Wizengamot, I have come before you to speak in defence of my aunt and uncle. They are the last of my mother's family. As you heard my aunt say, they did not seek to become my guardians. I was unwillingly thrust upon them by an old man who could not grasp the concept that family would not want me; would not love me. However, they still took me in.

"Vernon and Petunia Dursley are afraid. They are afraid of magicals because they see them as different. They are afraid of magicals because they have no defence against them. They are afraid because they do not understand them. They do not understand us. And, what you fear, you can easily hate.

"You see, when you fear something for long enough, you come to hate it. You come to hate it, because you don't like to be afraid. It makes you feel weak. The witch burnings and persecutions are proof of that.

"Yes, it sounds illogical to hate something because you fear it. However, that is human nature. It becomes even easier to hate when what you fear is another person. Specifically, another person's gift. Witches and wizards have power muggles like my aunt and uncle do not. It frightens them. So, they hate witches and wizards for being the source of their fear.

"In me, they saw something they feared. Here I was, first an infant and then a small child. And they were afraid of me. How would you feel if you were afraid of a small child?

"Petunia, growing up as the sister of a muggleborn, understands about accidental magic. She understands, through no fault of the child's own, that accidental magic can easily harm others. So, when I began to display signs of accidental magic, it created within her much fear.

"They had taken me in, albeit probably because of blood wards set in place by Albus Dumbledore; so, they couldn't just send me away again. As I had to remain in their home they somehow developed the idea that they could beat the magic out of me. They erroneously deduced that if they made me weak, then my magic would be weak. If my magic was weak, then any accidental magic I displayed would also be weak.

"We know that was a foolish supposition. We know that when a magical child is in peril, it will have stronger outbursts of accidental magic. They, however, not being experts on magic, did not know that. And so the beatings increased.

"Uncle Vernon sees that which does not meet the parameters of what he considers normal, to be 'freakish'. As he does not consider witches and wizards to fit his views of what is normal, he sees them as 'freaks'. He does not consider magic to be normal, so he sees it as 'freakishness'.

"When I displayed signs of accidental magic, he saw it as me showing signs of becoming a freak. He wanted me to be normal, so he decided to beat the freakishness out of me. To make me, again, normal. Plus, every time I displayed signs of accidental magic, it confirmed for him that there were people out there, witches and wizards, of whom he was afraid. And he did not like that."

With a gesture of his hand he indicated his aunt and uncle, "What you see here are two people who are very much afraid. Two people who, right now, are absolutely terrified. Two people driven by fear.

"What I ask is that you have compassion for them for their fear. I ask they not be executed by being sent through the veil or handed over to creatures they cannot even see, dementors, to be kissed. I also ask they not be sent to Azkaban, because, as muggles, they lack the constitution to last more than a few days in that place. It would be yet another form of execution for them; just a drawn out one.

"What I ask is they be handed over to their own police force, the Metropolitan Police Service, together with substantive and irrefutable proof of their crimes; and dealt with in the ways of the muggles."

Turning to his aunt and uncle he said, "Vernon and Petunia Dursley, you scared little fools; I am Harry James Potter, Heir Apparent to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter. I'm also one of the richest people in Britain. Had you shown me a modicum of decency, I would have shared my vast fortune with you. You would not have had to worry about anything. Everything would have been taken care of for you. Instead, you allowed your fear of magicals and magic to rule your lives and ruin them.

"Think about that, if you're lucky, while you live out the end of your days in prison. Good bye."

Turning back to face Madam Marchbanks, he said, "Thank you, Ma'am, for allowing me to speak before you. Thank you for considering my words."

With a small bow he turned about and walked back into the visitors' gallery. He walked in silence.

As he was sitting down again, Madam Marchbanks gave herself a bit of a shake and said, "We will now vote only for guilty or not guilty. We will then take a short recess while we discuss punishment. All those for guilty?"

All wands were raised.

"Though, it seems pointless," she said. "All those for not guilty?"

No wands were raised.

Turning to look at the Dursleys she said, "We, the Wizengamot, having sat in judgement of you today, find you guilty of all charges."

She banged her gavel once and said, "We break to discuss punishment."

The members then filed out through the doors in which they entered. The Dursleys remained chained in place. Harry sat there stoically while Daphne hugged his arm.

As soon as the members left, two of those sitting in the visitors' gallery rushed over with parchment and quills almost barking questions at them. Daphne ignored them, but Harry looked at them both with fury and coldly said, "Unless you want to have to be taken to Saint Mungo's to have those quills and parchment surgically removed from your bodily orifices, you will us alone, right now."

Both men hurriedly backed off. However, both remained much closer than they were before. Both looked like they were trying to listen in on anything he and Daphne said to one another.

Harry, again, looked at them both. "Gentlemen!" he growled. "You have just heard more than enough from me, this day. If either of you so much as writes one word of a private conversation between my betrothed and I, I will use that vast fortune of which I spoke to utterly destroy you.

"Now, move back to where you were and do not bother us again!"

With muttered apologies but annoyed expressions, both men moved far enough away they could not listen in if Harry and Daphne spoke quietly to each other.

As Harry turned back around after a last glare at both reporters he saw Cygnus enter from the other door and quickly move to take seat alongside them. With a glare of his own towards the reporters he sat with his back to them while leaning in to Harry and Daphne.

"How are you two holding up?" he asked.

"I think Daph's going to need to take a dreamless sleep potion after watching all that," replied Harry. "But, I'm alright now. I said my piece and found it strangely cathartic; a refreshing purge." Using his chin to indicate the door through which the Members left, he asked, "What's going on in there?"

"Well, your little heartfelt speech really struck a chord," Cygnus replied. "You're the victim here, so you coming out with what you said has a lot of them wanting to go along with your idea. Before you spoke, though, there was a near-unanimous consensus to immediately take them downstairs and toss them through the veil. You've given them something else to consider and Amelia is currently telling them how she would need to go about it. It may not prove possible, though."

With a sigh, Harry said, "Good. At least they're discussing it."

Cygnus gave them both comforting pats on the shoulder before hurrying back off the visitor's gallery and rejoining the Members.

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