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CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN

-: fifth year :-

── IN WHICH HOPE
IS RE-IGNITED

. . .


Harry had never felt so uncomfortable in his life. Perhaps the only comparison he had was the stares of Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students alike when his name was shot out of the Goblet of Fire the previous year. 

But now, it wasn't the stares of adolescents and professors, but the gazes of almost every member of the Wizengamot. Cornelius Fudge and his frog-like secretary were the worst of all, and Harry shivered as he adjusted his position on the seat, hands accidentally brushing against the chains that covered the arms and quickly jerked away.

His disciplinary hearing wasn't going perhaps as well as he thought - but he had nothing to compare it to. Harry just seemed to know that it would be a whole lot worse considering the input the Ministry had on discrediting himself and Dumbledore through a tirade of Daily Prophet articles that he had managed to skillfully missed through his days spent with Jane. 

He just had no idea how bad it truly was. 

Of course, arriving at Grimmauld Place and his barrage of questions had answered that for him, but somehow Harry didn't really care that he had missed it, or wasn't too interested in how Voldemort was doing. That was perhaps his utmost flaw; it was embarassing how he jumped at every chance to talk about her. 

Sirius had asked questions, Molly had inferred her knowledge, Remus reassuring him that Flora would be taking good care of her. Harry hadn't wanted to tell Ron and Hermione too much about her other than the most important parts, so when they eventually met they could get to know her themselves. That was an experience like no other, and the Potter boy was very sure that each of his best friends would get on with her like a house on fire.

However, when Fred and George appeared and asked if she was really real, Harry had stolen some of that experience away from them. He couldn't help it, and on the first night when he and Ron finally got to their room to go to sleep, questions were asked and Ron woke the next morning having not gotten a lot of sleep at all.

Days had passed through a flurry of cleaning and attempts to overhear what was going on in the Order meetings, and then August 12th had arrived and unlike a month before, Harry would be cooped up in Courtroom Ten, far beneath the summery muggle London whilst he attended his hearing with the Ministry of Magic.

Fudge thought he was lying about Dementors, Bones thought him producing a fully corporeal Patronus was incredibly impressive magic and Percy Weasley was sat right by Cornelius Fudge's side, being barked at to go and retrieve Dumbledore's witness. 

Harry had felt his heart soar at the first mention of this - it had to be Jane, wouldn't it? Then he could finally see her and have visual confirmation that she was alive and alright. It sunk drastically when Arabella Figg tottered in, slippers and all. 

Now he was watching her totter out, his heart practically in his stomach. There was no hope - no hope at all. 

"Not a very convincing witness." Fudge commented loftily. "Dumbledore-" 

"Then perhaps, a second?" The Headmaster of Hogwarts hadn't charmed the spare chair away, and Harry was staring at the crescent-moon bespectacled man like he had just refreshed his life line. "The Wizengamot Charter of Rights does not specify just how many witnesses the accused it allowed."

"Correct." Amelia Bones nodded, her gaze turning stiffly towards the Minister, who waved his hand absentmindedly and Percy hurried forward towards the door once again. 

The door open and closed, a quiet mumbling of voices behind it when Percy disappeared. Harry could feel his heart thudding with anticipation as the voices fell quiet, his own, Dumbledore's and the many others' eyes on the door as it opened once more. 

"Miss Jane Everleigh." Dumbledore had that warm welcoming smile on his face as the ginger-haired girl followed Percy into the room. "Of course, many of you will be familiar with the case of her parents, Wendy and Edward. Harry, do sit down."

Harry hadn't even realised he was on his feet, green eyes wide behind his glasses as they landed on Jane. Maybe he was going crazy, but being apart for just over a week made her seem so much friendlier, perhaps even prettier. 

She hadn't let the cold focus of being a witness to a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic quell what she felt comfortable in, and Harry recognised many components of her outfit. The flower patterned summer dress, the red and the cream matching the loosely fitting leather jacket - which was the same material as the boots on her feet. The cream matched the socks pulled up over her knee, the same pattern of the dress matching her headband, which pulled ginger curls from her face. 

Many of this had been purchased from Madame Vera's, but the visit seemed to be so long ago. One thing was the same - her smile. 

The smile that pushed Harry back down into his seat, hope igniting in his stomach again as Jane took the spare seat as she looked his way, their eyes locking as she grinned at him, daring to lift her hand in a small wave of acknowledgement.

He had found out about her parents, he had found out that she knew. They could use that against her, of course, but if there was one person Harry believed could get him out of this, it was her.

Suddenly it didn't matter whether he returned to Hogwarts anymore. He had Sirius, and he had Jane. If his confidence in her didn't play out, he had them.

And she was alright. So he would be alright.


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