The knock came far too early.
Harry stirred in his bed, his mind slowly drifting out of the thick comfort of a dream. He didn't remember what it had been about—only that he hadn't felt like himself in it, hadn't been Harry or Jacob, just something weightless and free.
The knock came again. Firmer this time.
"Harry?" Arthur Weasley's voice called through the door. "I'm sorry to wake you, but we need to talk."
Harry blinked up at the cracked ceiling of Grimmauld Place, groaning as he sat upright. He'd had peace. A few hours without pressure, without confrontation, without any eyes on him.
And it was already over.
He swung his legs off the bed and muttered, "Of course it is."
When he opened the door, Arthur was waiting with a pale, regretful look on his face. His red hair was even more disheveled than usual, his eyes underscored by fatigue.
"Something wrong?" Harry asked, already feeling the irritation flicker in his chest.
Arthur hesitated. "Yes. I'm afraid... it's about the Ministry. They've summoned you for a disciplinary hearing."
Harry stared.
"A hearing," he repeated flatly. "For what?"
Like wasn't that what happened in the original harry potter, but he wasn't even in Privet Drive so what was happening.
"For using magic in a Muggle area."
He stared at the man for a while.
Harry's nostrils flared. "I wasn't even here." What the hell was the ministry smoking?
"I know," Arthur said quickly. "We know. You weren't even in the country. But they're claiming the magic that was cast in Little Whinging was from you. I can only assume that given that you are the only wizard living there they mistook it for you and then there were the Dementors, and... people were hurt. You can see where this is going can't you."
"Of course, people were hurt," Harry muttered. "And naturally, they blame me."
Arthur looked pained. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you last night. It came in late, and there was so much tension—Dumbledore thought it better not to overload you."
Harry's jaw clenched. "Dumbledore again."
Arthur held up his hands. "Look, I'm not defending him. I just wanted to give you a few more hours of peace. But we don't have time now. The hearing's been moved up. It's happening today."
Harry closed his eyes, exhaled slowly, and pushed the anger down.
"Fine," he said, his voice like cold steel. "Let's get it over with."
It didn't take long to get ready. He wanted to rip the entire ministry apart but we also wanted to see where this was going.
With the way things were happening nobody would assume he was a Campione, with the constant disrespect and a part of him wanted to show these people but he had to remind himself that there was an actual reason he had asked the association to keep it a secret and that was to keep Voldemort.
He was under no delusion that Voldemort didn't know about Campione's or even tried to become one in the past.
It's said that he travel the world mastering magic before he came back to britan to terrorize the nation.
He was sure that he had come across mentions of campiones and for someone as power hungry as Tom, it would be a surprise that he hadn't tried to become one himself or at least try something with a hectic god.
Villains like these always think they can do shit like that until they find out how outclassed they were.
Becoming a Campione was not something one can just plan, There's a reason Campiones were called fools. Because only fools like them would put everything on the line to fight even against the impossible. Voldemort? He was a coward that would run at the first sign that his life was truly in danger.
He was someone who feared death to the point of even splitting his soul into pieces. Someone like that had no chance of ever becoming a Campione.
But that didn't make him any less dangerous, he would no doubt know something that he may be able to use against him if he was prepared.
So It's better to keep things close to his chest, for now at least.
Ministry of Magic.
The Ministry was buzzing when they arrived.
Arthur led Harry through the visitor entrance—a phone booth squeezed between an old bookstore and a sandwich shop. They dialed in, descended in a mechanical shudder, and stepped into the grand atrium.
Harry had been here before, but not like this.
Not as a target.
He noticed immediately how people looked at him. Some with curiosity. Others with fear. A few, mostly younger witches and wizards, with awe. But none with warmth.
A woman in bright green robes passed and muttered under her breath, "That's him."
Another wizard whispered, "He's supposed to be dangerous now."
Harry ignored them all.
Arthur placed a steady hand on his shoulder as they approached security. "Don't let them get to you."
Harry didn't reply. His face remained impassive.
The security wizard, a pale man with jittery fingers, waved Harry through with trembling hands. "W-wand, please."
"I don't have one?"
"What?"
Arthur turned to him in surprise. "What do you mean ?"'
"It broke during my vacation with my relatives" he answered as he turned back to the security "Will that be a problem"
"Well it's supposed to be for Identification"
"Well I don't have one and I haven't had the time to get a new one" he shrugged as if saying what can you do.
Sighing the man looked at him for a bit before seemingly deciding that this wasn't his problem.
"Level Ten," he said. "Courtroom Seven."
"Thank you," Arthur said as he dragged Harry with him.
"Your wand is broken"
He nodded "Yep, well not really broken more like turned to dust as he shattered into pieces after an incident"
Mister Weasley waited for him to continue but he didn't. Seemed like Harry wouldn't say anything more on the subject.
When they reached the elevators, Arthur pressed the button to take them to the **Department of Magical Law Enforcement**.
"Courtroom Ten," Arthur muttered. "It's one of the lower chambers. Meant for serious offenses."
"Of course it is," Harry said under his breath.
They stepped into the dimly lit hallway. Two Aurors were already waiting by the door. One gave a sharp nod, opened the door, and ushered them inside.
They descended again. The walls were dark and heavy with enchantments.
He could shatter them.
He had no intention to.
But the knowledge calmed him.
They arrived in a long corridor lined with iron doors. One of them swung open as they approached.
The chamber was deep, circular, and filled with shadows. Rows of stone benches curved upward in tiers, filled with members of the **Wizengamot**—judges, Ministry officials, and senior bureaucrats in deep purple robes.
Cornelius Fudge sat at the center, looking as pompous as ever, chin lifted high.
Harry didn't flinch.
Amelia Bones, stern and sharp-eyed, sat at the head of the Wizengamot. Several dozen other witches and wizards—some Harry recognized, most he didn't—filled the seats.
"This is a disciplinary hearing of the Ministry of Magic," Amelia said, her voice echoing through the chamber. "Concerning the misuse of magic in the presence of Muggles."
Harry took his seat.
The restraints hissed around his arms. They snapped shut—then faltered.
A ripple of magic danced off his skin.
The restraints shattered into dust.
Gasps filled the room.
Harry didn't blink.
Amelia leaned forward. "Mr. Potter, did you deliberately—"
"No," Harry said calmly. "Seems the Ministry needs new equipment."
Murmurs filled the chamber.
Bones stared at him for a little while before she held up a hand. "Let's proceed."
———————————————————