RYANTHEGHOST
patreon
HP: Bloodraven Chapter 230 - The Trial and the Turmoil (III)
🕑 Added 2025-08-19 22:48:55 +0000 UTCNorth London.
The night sky was buried under thick gray clouds, and a damp chill clung to the air as though the whole city had been smothered beneath a wet blanket. The streets were silent, and a thin layer of snow coated the roads and rooftops, catching the glow of the streetlamps and making everything sparkle just a little.
On a quiet pavement, two figures suddenly came into view, black coats swaying with each step as they walked toward a modest house wedged between others. Without a word or a knock, they slipped inside, almost like they were expected.
Inside, warmth greeted them. A fire crackled faintly in the hearth, and two men sat in the living room with steaming cups in their hands. They had been mid-conversation, but the sound of the door swinging open pulled their attention, and both rose at once when they saw who it was.
“Leader…” one of them greeted respectfully.
It was Sirius Black, and beside him sat Lord Greengrass. The newcomers were Maverick and Lupin, come to join them.
“How was your talk with Fudge, Jameson?” Maverick asked as he and Lupin settled into the empty seats.
Lord Greengrass allowed himself a thin smile. “It went well. Just like you predicted, once I nudged the conversation toward how it might polish his reputation, he agreed without a second thought... even said he’d go to the press himself.”
Maverick leaned back in his chair, a slight curve tugging at his mouth. “Naturally. The man’s brain shuts down the moment something sounds good for his reputation. Let me guess—he didn’t even bother asking why you were helping him?”
“No. Not a word.”
Chuckling, Maverick shook his head. How in Merlin’s name had that fat man ever been appointed? Of course, he knew the answer—it wasn’t hard to trace. He was only amused, recalling how the man’s character had changed after coming into power.
Cornelius Fudge was no firebrand, no visionary. He was a pure bureaucrat, and that made him the safest choice after Voldemort’s supposed downfall, when wizarding Britain craved nothing more than normalcy, comfort, and stability. Affable, genial, harmless even—with promises of quiet days ahead—he had seemed the perfect administrator. And that, weirdly enough, was how he got the job.
But the most important detail in his rise to power was Albus Dumbledore, who had been offered the post first His refusal—and quiet endorsement of Fudge—carried enormous weight with the Wizengamot. In his early years, Fudge leaned on Dumbledore constantly, almost deferential, knowing full well his authority rested on the old wizard’s support.
Ironic, Maverick thought, that the man now feared Dumbledore most, convinced the old wizard was after his seat, forgetting it was Dumbledore who put him there in the first place.
“So when’s our blundering excuse for a minister planning to show his face?” Sirius asked after a short silence.
“This week, if not sooner,” Lord Greengrass replied after a measured pause. “Cornelius is very eager to see it pushed through quickly, so it could be tomorrow even. And I would not be surprised if he fixed the trial date in the same breath.”
“That’s good,” Maverick said, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest when another thought came to him. “What about Bones and Scrimgeour?”
“They’ve been briefed on everything,” Jameson replied. Then, turning to Black, he continued, “Once Fudge makes the announcement and sets the trial, you will surrender yourself to the Director of Magical Law Enforcement. I shall mediate, of course, and together we will appear before the Wizengamot promptly.” He paused, then added, “And naturally, Pettigrew will be coming with us.”
The four of them kept talking, ironing out the details of the days ahead. When it was finally settled, Maverick rose to leave, while Lupin remained behind. This time he wasn’t heading to Hogwarts but home. It was the holidays, after all, and he was looking forward to time with his family.
The very next day, just as Greengrass had predicted, Fudge appeared before the press. He put on his usual dramatic show of bluster, first addressing the ongoing buzz about the country’s most wanted fugitive, then boldly announcing—much to everyone’s surprise—that he had personally taken the initiative to schedule a public trial for Black. “If he is truly innocent, let him appear before the Wizengamot and prove it,” Fudge declared. And in a show of false generosity, he added that Black would not be apprehended unless the court found him guilty.
Honestly, even Maverick wasn’t expecting that last part. He had prepared contingencies in case Black was taken to Azkaban the moment he turned himself in, which was why he involved Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement.
With Scrimgeour on their side and Lord Greengrass—a faction leader in the Wizengamot and the Ministry’s top law enforcement official—any sudden order from Fudge to apprehend Black or cancel the trial could be stalled without anyone needing to point fingers. The plan wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to keep Fudge from acting unpredictably. But after that bold announcement from Fudge himself, things should play out more smoothly than anticipated.
Anyway, whether or not that broke half the laws in the book, Fudge didn’t seem to care. The British Ministry wasn’t exactly known for clean separation of power. The Wizengamot played judge, jury, and council all at once, and the laws they had, while functional, were far from airtight. Even if half the country believed Fudge was abusing his authority, the gaps in the system left him pretty safe. Of course, that was assuming everything went according to plan.
He was hell-bent on going all in, convinced that no matter the outcome, he would come out ahead. If Black was guilty, Fudge would be hailed as the hero who brought him to justice. If he was innocent, he would still claim credit for clearing his name. His gamble was simple. Sirius Black had to show up, and whatever happened, Fudge would declare himself the winner.
He was desperate now, his reputation already dragging through the mud after all the reckless blunders he had made this year. What he needed was something big and loud enough to pull himself back up, which was exactly why Lord Greengrass was able to convince him so easily.
Poor Fudge. He couldn’t even see that he was digging the very pit that would bury him.
Time passed slowly after that. Christmas arrived with its crisp air and glittering snow, rooftops frosted white and streets lined with glowing lanterns. Maverick spent the holidays with his family and Isabella, enjoying the bit of peace before the ruckus that awaited the next day.
---
In the morning, golden sunlight strolled lazily over the city, a rare Christmas gift, making the snow sparkle on rooftops and tree branches while the crisp air shimmered with a strange kind of warmth that made everything feel almost magical. After a night of Christmas festivities, the lively youth were heading home, laughing and brushing off the cold, while the middle-aged residents left the comfort of their warm beds, straightening their clothes and getting ready for the busy holiday day.
“Is this the Ministry of Magic?”
Harry’s eyes wandered over the street, taking in the drab office buildings on either side, the long-shuttered shops, and the dilapidated taverns. He glanced at his professor beside him, frowning. Nothing here screamed “powerful government office” or “big country ministry.” If this was the Ministry of Magic, Harry thought, it had a very strange sense of style.
Maverick chuckled as he caught the surface thoughts of the kid. To be fair, there really were no imposing buildings here, at least not by ordinary standards. But, of course, this was the Ministry of Magic, and without a touch of magic, how could a building belonging to the country’s highest magical authority be visible.
“Come—”
He didn’t explain anything and just walked on, guiding Harry toward a dilapidated looking red telephone booth. The paint was peeling in large patches, most of the glass on three sides was shattered, and the only receiver inside dangled awkwardly, as if someone had yanked it half off.
“Uh… Professor?” Harry asked again, eyes fixed on the battered telephone booth. He frowned. “Don’t you own that big mobile phone company? What are we doing here… making a call from a telephone booth?”
Sigh…
“Just follow my lead, Potter. ”
Maverick said after a long breath. Honestly, he wondered and really couldn’t figure out whose bright idea it had been to put the Ministry’s general entrance here, or why this had to be the way in. Sure, there were easier ways to access the Ministry, like the Floo Network, but Maverick wanted to show Potter this route—it was the boy’s first time here, after all.
He pushed open the chipped door of the booth, and Harry followed hesitantly. Inside, the space was cramped and smelled faintly of dust.
“Let’s see… 739244.”
Maverick lifted the receiver and dialed, listening to the click and hum of the line before a woman’s voice immediately crackled through.
“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and the purpose of your visit.”
“Maverick Caesar, and Harry James Potter,” he replied. “We’re here to attend the public hearing of Sirius Black.”
For some reason, magicals seemed to have a thing for putting all their important institutions underground—whether it was the Ministry, goblin banks, or even the underworld, everything was buried deep beneath the earth. And the ways in were just as terrible.
After giving their names, there was a soft whoosh, and the booth seemed to sway slightly. Before Harry could even react, the ground beneath them gave way, and the city above vanished. Within moments, the telephone booth had vanished entirely, leaving them standing in a brightly lit, bustling atrium filled with magical portraits, busy witches and wizards, and the unmistakable hum of activity.
Comments
Dark_pheonix
Thanks for the chapter!
QuantumServer
Thanks for the the chapter
