Hermione's eyes darted frantically across the benches, her lips were moving in silent count as she tallied the raised hands among the Wizengamot mbers.
The votes in favor climbed past ninety percent then ninety-five and still more hands continued to rise. The sight was so overwhelming, so beautiful, that she clapped both hands over her mouth and burst into tears.
'Thank goodness—they weren't going to be expelled from Hogwarts!'
She bent forward in her chair, shaking her shoulders with sobs of overwhelming relief.
Harry nearly whooped aloud himself, his heart was hamring wildly against his ribs.
'Thank goodness—just a three-thousand-Galleon fine, no lifeti in Azkaban!'
'A thousand Galleons?!'
Ron's lips moved mutely, his face was cycling rapidly through a dozen different expressions before finally settling on sothing that looked remarkably like a man attending his own funeral.
He'd just won prize money from the Triwizard Tournant. He'd had such plans for it.
He hadn't managed to spend a single Galleon of it yet, had barely dared to dream about what he might do with such wealth. And now it was already as good as gone.
"Sirius, Remus—and the rest of you—"
Bryan's voice cut through the emotional aftermath still rippling through the chamber. He turned to face the mbers of the Order of the Phoenix, who were clustered near the entrance looking equally relieved by the outco.
"Take Harry, Ron, and Hermione back to the old Manor."
The trial was over, but Bryan's expression had not relaxed by even the smallest degree. If anything, it had sharpened into sothing brisk and unyielding. The warmth that had occasionally flickered in his violet eyes during the proceedings had been extinguished completely, replaced by sothing calculating and dangerous.
He raised his voice, ensuring it carried to every corner of the stone chamber—partly to remind the Order mbers, partly to remind the three students themselves.
"On your way out, if reporters ask and they will ask, they'll be swarming like flies on honey—you may tell them the Wizengamot's decision. But the details of this trial are not to be disclosed to anyone. Do you understand?"
'Not to be disclosed?'
Remus's expression shifted slightly in a flicker of unease.
"Understood, Bryan,"
Without another word, he and Sirius and Alia and the rest of the Order swept forward. They surrounded Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the defendants' bench, lifting the three dazed students up from their seats with gentle hands, and hustled them toward the exit before they could say a word to anyone.
"Arthur, Kingsley, Rufus—"
Once the students and their escort had disappeared through the doorway, Bryan turned his attention to the three n who remained.
"I'd like you to invite every departnt head, and any Deputy Minister-level officials who weren't present for the verdict, to co here to this courtroom imdiately."
"What are you planning, Bryan?"
Arthur asked, his voice was tinged with unease and hesitation.
"Please, Arthur. There isn't ti for lengthy explanations."
Bryan didn't even glance at Alia for approval or consultation. He simply gave the order as though the decision were already his to make.
"Don't tell reporters or anyone else outside the Ministry what has happened inside this courtroom. Not yet. We'll make a coordinated announcent when the ti is right. And Rufus—"
He fixed his gaze on Rufus Scrimgeour.
Rufus glanced reflexively at Alia, waiting for her nod before stepping forward.
"Have the Aurors you brought with you stand guard in the Atrium. Then seal the Ministry—activate the ergency protocols. No one in, no one out, until further notice."
Bryan's face, which usually wore a warm smile had gone hard as stone.
'Seal the Ministry.'
Rufus's heart gave an uncomfortable lurch in his chest.
That was no small order.
Sealing the Ministry would cause panic, would signal to everyone inside and out that sothing catastrophic had occurred. It was the kind of ergency asure reserved for active Death Eater attacks, for terrorist threats, for the outbreak of war.
But he gave a silent nod of acceptance anyway, trusting that Bryan Watson knew what he was doing.
Before he left to carry out his orders, he cast several glances back at the other group of Aurors still being held in their golden cages by Bryan's magic.
A cold light flickered in Bryan's eyes as he caught Rufus's unspoken question.
"If they have no other violations on their records, they won't be charged," Bryan said softly, his voice pitched low enough for only Rufus to hear.
"But I can't release them yet—not until the situation is stable, not until we know who can be trusted and who can't. You understand why, don't you?"
Rufus was silent for a long mont as he processed the request and all its troubling implications. Then he gave a single firm nod of understanding and strode out of the chamber.
"Witches and wizards of the Wizengamot—"
Bryan walked to the front of the raised platform and turned to look out over the assembly. His string of decisive actions, each more audacious than the last, had stirred their anxiety up once again.
He inclined his head in a brief, formal bow.
"Thank you all for your just judgnt today. Your integrity and courage in the face of considerable pressure does you great credit."
He straightened, his eyes were moving across their faces one by one.
"I trust everyone here understands that this case touches on matters of the gravest possible consequence—matters involving the Minister for Magic and his Deputy. Before we can make any public statent about the full scope of what has transpired here, certain critical decisions must be reached. I ask for your patience and your discretion a little while longer."
The air in the courtroom turned heavy again.
Everyone present was among the finest legal minds in the wizarding world. None of them failed to understand what Bryan Watson ant when he spoke of decisions that had to be made.
"Headmaster Dumbledore. Alia."
Bryan gestured for the bewildered Lawrence to take a seat on one of the stone benches and rest.
Then Bryan drew Dumbledore and Alia into a quiet corner of the courtroom, away from the watching eyes and ears of the Wizengamot mbers.
The three of them ford a tight triangle.
"Before the senior Ministry officials arrive—we need to co to an agreent on several critical things," Bryan said directly.
"You an—" Dumbledore's blue eyes were careful.
"I assu you both agree that Cornelius Fudge and Dolores Umbridge should be removed from office?" Bryan spoke in return.
There was nothing to debate there.
Dumbledore's eyelids barely moved as he nodded once. Alia threw a furious glance across the courtroom at the three figures in their fire-cages who had by now given up all resistance and stood slumped in defeat.
When she turned back, her voice erged tight and clipped.
"I agree."
"Then—"
Bryan's gaze settled on Alia with sudden weight, heavy with expectation and unspoken demands. His next words ca slowly.
"Soone must step forward to bear this burden. The Ministry cannot function without leadership, especially not now. We need soone capable, soone trustworthy, soone the public and the departnt heads can rally behind. The ti has co, Alia."
'To bear this burden.'
Alia understood perfectly what Bryan ant—she wasn't naive or slow. She'd even been bracing herself for this mont.
But now that the mont had actually arrived, she found herself gripped by profound uncertainty. Fear, even—a cold, clenching sensation in her stomach that made her want to step back.
"I don't know if..."
Her voice erged smaller than she'd intended.
This was not a Ministry anyone would want to inherit. You-Know-Who was still out there lurking in the shadows, watching and waiting and rebuilding his forces.
The Azkaban breakout had released so of his most dangerous followers. The international community was losing faith in Britain's ability to govern itself. And anyone who took the post of Minister now would imdiately beco a primary target—a thorn in the Dark Lord's side, a na at the top of his kill list.
"Becoming Minister for Magic requires an election by proper legal procedure—"
Even Alia Bones relentless, iron-willed, feared throughout the criminal underworld stood daunted before the crushing weight this position represented.
"I would advise against organizing a snap election right now," Bryan said calmly, as though he'd already anticipated this objection and prepared his counter-argunt.
"A proper campaign would require you to appear constantly before the public. It would make you far too visible and vulnerable. You'd be an easy target for assassination, and your security detail would be stretched thin trying to protect you at all those public events. It's far too dangerous, both for you personally and for everyone around you."
He leaned forward slightly.
"My suggestion is this: first, we secure the support of the departnt heads and senior officials. Dumbledore and I will back you publicly and privately. You would serve as Acting Minister in the interim, governing the Ministry under ergency protocols until the situation has stabilized enough for a formal election to be conducted safely."
He paused, letting her absorb the proposal. "It's not unprecedented. Acting Ministers have been appointed before during tis of crisis. The legal frawork exists. We'd simply be following established precedent."
"I believe you are more than capable of fulfilling the role of Minister for Magic, Alia."
Dumbledore, who had been silent until now, spoke up with conviction. He gave her a warm smile.
"And if any of the senior officials object…" Alia still had reservations.
"Then we will deal with that situation as it arises," Bryan interrupted gently.
"I trust that when presented with all the facts—the departnt heads will make the choice that serves the best interests of the wizarding community. What we need right now, more than anything, is unity.
In tis like these, we cannot afford too many dissenting voices within the Ministry."
"Very well."
Alia drew a slow, deep breath, and sothing resolute settled into her expression.
"Soone has to stand up and take responsibility. I'll do it. I'll serve as Acting Minister, and I'll do everything in my power to see this Ministry through the crisis ahead."
Both Bryan and Dumbledore exhaled audibly—a shared breath of quiet relief.
"The most difficult part—" Bryan said as he cast a cold glance at the caged figure of Fudge, who stood slumped behind his bars of golden fire, "—is what we tell the public about all of this."
He turned back to face them both.
"We cannot tell them the truth—that the Minister for Magic directed Aurors to murder an innocent Muggle in order to manufacture evidence against Harry Potter. If the wizarding public learned that, the Ministry's authority would be finished. No one would trust us again for generations. We must protect the institution's integrity, even if it ans protecting Fudge's reputation to so degree."
"What do you propose, Bryan?" Dumbledore asked softly.
'Of two evils, choose the lesser.'
Neither Dumbledore nor Alia wanted to deceive the public. But weighed against the catastrophic alternative—the Ministry's reputation in freefall, public faith in magical governnt shattered, the British wizarding world plunging into chaos and anarchy while Voldemort's forces grew stronger—they saw no other path forward.
Sotis the greater good required smaller evils.
It was an ugly truth, but truth nonetheless.
"We tell neither the full truth nor an outright lie," Bryan said slowly.
"Here's what we say: Dawlish killed the Muggle postman. That part is true and provable. His motive for framing Harry Potter was personal ambition—he wanted to ingratiate himself with Fudge and Umbridge, to prove his loyalty and advance his career.
He knew there was an escalating conflict between the Ministry's senior leadership and Hogwarts over policy and authority, and he saw an opportunity to exploit that conflict for his own benefit."
Bryan paused, making sure they were following his logic.
"Fudge and Umbridge acting with inadequate verification took Dawlish's fabricated account at face value and moved forward with the prosecution. The Wizengamot has sentenced Dawlish to life imprisonnt in Azkaban for murder. And Cornelius Fudge and Dolores Umbridge taking responsibility for their failure and the harm it caused have resigned."
"Resigned?" Alia repeated thoughtfully furrowing her brow.
"That is the version we present to the wizarding world," Bryan continued gently.
"We all know Fudge and Umbridge were the ones who ordered Dawlish to commit murder—they won't escape accountability. They will be held quietly in Azkaban. Their families will be told the truth in private. And I'm confident that for the sake of their family na, they will cooperate with the Ministry's official narrative."
Dumbledore let out a long, heavy sigh that seed to co from the very depths of his soul. He realized that he hadn't sighed so many tis in a single day in years.
The circumstances gave them no choice—he could see that clearly. Any other path led to disaster. And yet, what they were doing now was undeniably a coup.
"I have no objection in principle," Alia frowned in thought for a mont. "The narrative holds together internally. It explains why Fudge and Umbridge are gone without completely demolishing public faith in the Ministry. But you know how those reporters are, Bryan. They have a talent for unearthing things. If even one of them starts digging into—"
"Then we borrow a page from Fudge's own playbook," Bryan said and a faint smile appeared on his face.
"Fudge threw Harry's case to the public at this particular mont to deflect scrutiny and public pressure from the Azkaban breakout. We can do the reverse."
"You an…" Alia struggled to keep up with his thinking. "Draw attention back to the Azkaban escape?"
"How would you do that?" Dumbledore asked, his expression grave.
Bryan smiled in a sharp, cold way and was just about to answer when the courtroom doors swung open and Arthur Weasley walked in, leading a group of officials behind him.
"We'll finish this later."
Bryan pressed his lips together briefly.
"Co, Headmaster—let's go help Alia persuade these Ministry officials."
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