Title: Insistent Intervention
Author: Claire Watson
Series: Plack & Botter #1
Fandom: Harry Potter
Content Rating: PG13
Warnings: Canon level violence
Author Notes: This story was written for the Big Moxie 2022 Q1 #Canon divergence
Beta: Grammarly!
Word Count: 8,795
Summary: When Amelia Bones pays more attention to the goings-on at Hogwarts, she ends up in the right place to rectify a miscarriage of justice that had already gone on over a decade too long.

Chapter one

When Amelia Bones entered the Ministry as an auror recruit, she had visions of striding through the magical world, dispensing justice, arresting criminals, and saving lives. She would be respected and admired for making the world a safer place.

The first sign that her future wasn’t going to play out the way she’d dreamed was when she’d been assigned her mentor, the seasoned auror who would be her tutor and guide through the first tumultuous years.

Amelia was assigned to Alastor Moody, instead of someone famous and important, like Alfred Blishwick or Millicent Bagnold. Moody was the joke of the department, a paranoiac who regularly tried to scare his fellow aurors with stories of a rising dark lord.

With her plans for a meteoric rise through the Ministry somewhat dampened, Amelia privately resolved to study and train as hard as possible to pass her tertiary proficiency in record time. The sooner she detached herself from Moody, the better.

Moody didn’t seem impressed with her, either. Rather than question her about her NEWTs and OWLs like the other mentors, Moody wanted to know where she kept her non-registered backup wand.

Amelia knew full well that having a non-registered wand was illegal. Even if she had owned one, she wouldn’t have admitted it. Thankfully, she didn’t have to lie. “I don’t have a backup wand,” she informed the man scowling at her.

Moody’s scowl deepened. “What about knives?”

Amelia blinked. “What about them?”

“Merlin’s saggy ballsack,” Moody muttered. “Come on then, Bones. We’ve got a few stops to make.”

Amelia obediently followed. “The Head Auror said that we’d spend the first week going through simulations and familiarising ourselves with reporting procedures.”

Moody snorted. “I’m not going to waste my time, or yours, going through pretend paperwork. We can talk about that when it’s relevant. Right now, I want to see what you’re like in a fight, but I’m not going to bother until you’re fully kitted out.”

He’d taken her to a seedy little shop in Nocturne Alley that sold all kinds of weaponry—from knives, swords, and axes, to second-hand wands—and something that looked like it might be a staff.

After some haggling with the proprietor, Moody instructed her to pick the three wands that worked best for her. While she worked her way through what must have been five hundred wands, Moody picked through the knives, testing their balance and peering closely at the blades.

They left the shop with the three wands Moody had wanted her to get, four knives of varying sizes, and a short sword.

“How do I go about registering my new wands?” Amelia asked.

“Don’t be daft; we’re not going to register them!” Moody’s already gruff voice was even more scornful. “You can bet your britches that none of the scum we’ll be dealing with will have registered theirs.”

“But we have to be better than that,” Amelia objected. “We’re supposed to uphold the law, not break it!”

“We’re not breaking it,” Moody argued. “The law states that all wands carried must be registered with the Ministry within a week of purchase unless a delay is authorised in writing by a Senior Auror. I’ll give you written permission; then, you’ll be in compliance.”

“Clever,” said Amelia. “If you’re giving me written permission, then who are you getting permission from?”

Moody barked out a laugh. “Never you mind. Maybe one day I’ll tell you, maybe I won’t. For now, let’s work out how you’re going to carry these.”

By the end of the week, Amelia had begun to think that her year with Moody might not be as bad as she’d feared. He certainly seemed invested in making sure she could survive all sorts of hypothetical but terrifying situations. Paranoid or not, he could thrash her in a fight with one hand tied behind his back.

By the end of the month, Amelia realised just how much she’d lucked out. She and Moody had been patrolling Old Leake when it had been attacked by six masked terrorists intent on murdering everyone in sight. The villagers panicked, their shouts and screams contributing to the chaos.

The training that Moody had been drilling into her kicked in. Without thinking, Amelia sprang into action, alternating piercing and stunning hexes with Moody’s far more lethal choices, breaking shields as fast as the scumbags raised them.

Five minutes later, all six attackers had been stunned and bound. Five villagers were dead, with nearly a dozen wounded. Amelia was slightly out of breath, and Moody wasn’t even that.

In the wake of that attack, several things soon became apparent.

First, Moody’s insistence on physical training had probably saved her life. Two, he was correct to be concerned about the rise of a new dark lord. Third, Minister Jenkins was complicit, be it ideologically or due to bribery.

The six attackers, all highly recognisable sons of pureblood houses who followed an anti-muggle, anti-muggleborn agenda, had walked free from the holding cells after only a cursory interrogation, all claiming to have acted under compulsion spells.

Amelia fumed in impotent rage. “We’ve got to do something!”

Moody shook his head with a cynical twist to his lips that might have been called a smile on another person. “The only thing that stays constant in policing: Politicians don’t care if the rest of us live or die so long as they get to stay top of the shit-pile.”

It was a lesson Amelia had never forgotten. She made the most of her time with Moody, soaking in the lessons he had to offer even as the world seemed to descend into chaos and anarchy.

After a year with Moody, she passed the tests to become a fully-fledged auror. Four years later, with auror numbers stretched to their limit and seasoned department members dropping faster than they could be replaced, she was promoted to Senior Auror and given her first recruits to train. They didn’t last an entire year, falling to a concerted death eater attack on Diagon Alley that also took the lives of Amelia’s parents and her oldest brother.

Amelia’s youngest brother and his wife were killed in 1980, orphaning their infant daughter, Susan Amelia Bones. Edgar, Amelia’s only remaining sibling, took Susan in with the intent to raise her alongside his own children.

Edgar’s family died in the summer of 1981, leaving Amelia to juggle her auror duties with raising her youngest niece, who had been spared only due to the courageous acts of Edgar’s eldest daughter, who managed to hide her from the attackers. Luckily, Edgar’s old friend, Geoffrey Abbot, and his wife, Hilda, were happy to oversee the majority of Susan’s upbringing. They had a daughter the same age, so the two children grew up as sisters.

Mere months after the deaths of Edgar and his family, the war was suddenly over.

Once again, perpetrators of heinous acts were set free after making unsubstantiated claims of coercion, this time the favoured spell being the Imperious. Amelia’s fury at the injustice was a familiar burn in her chest. So many dead, so many families destroyed, only for the victims to suffer yet another betrayal, that of their leader’s self-interest.

Amelia realised that the only way to ensure justice was done was to take charge of the situation herself. With that goal in mind, she accepted the Head Auror position when it was offered to her the following year.

Five years later, Amelia was Head of the DMLE. The minister herself was the only person in the Ministry with more individual power than her. Millicent Bagnold had leveraged the perception that her leadership had resulted in the war’s end into a second term as Minister, something that hadn’t happened since before Grindelwald was a concern.

Almost before Amelia had time to turn around, Susan was ready to start Hogwarts. Susan’s time at school would allow Amelia extra time in the day that she could devote to her goal of restoring the practice of justice to the subdepartments she oversaw.

Minister Bagnold had finally stepped down as Minister the previous year, and Amelia had initially held high hopes that the new Minister might be less morally bankrupt.

A year into Cornelius Fudge’s term, she now believed that Fudge was worse. As self-interested as Bagnold was, she at least made the decisions herself. She could be swayed into doing a good thing when presented with an argument as to how a particular course of action would benefit her.

Fudge let people buy him and then do all the thinking for him. He also began the habit of usurping Amelia’s authority.

As Head of the DMLE, Amelia was supposed to be the bridge between the Minister and the orders he wished to give her people. Minister Fudge, having decided that the office of Minister for Magic gave him unlimited personal power, went over her head and behind her back and gave orders to her people himself.

Since too many of her people had less backbone than a flobberworm, many of them obeyed and didn’t even bother to inform her.

It took an embarrassingly long time before the situation became apparent, and if it wasn’t for her niece, Amelia might have been in the dark a lot longer.

Susan came home from her first year at Hogwarts brimming with wild stories and exaggerated tales of adventure and excitement. Amelia listened with great enjoyment, remembering her own schooldays with wistful nostalgia.

The end of Susan’s second school year wasn’t quite so pleasant. Once the usual hugs were exchanged, the school things were unpacked, and they’d sat down to dinner, Susan casually opened a political can of worms.

“Is it true that Hagrid got sent to Azkaban without a trial?”

Amelia blinked. “What?”

“Back in April, the Minister came to Hogwarts and took Hagrid away to Azkaban because they thought he was the one behind the petrifications. Hermione Granger told me that the Minister did it because he ‘had to be seen to be doing something,’ but that Hagrid didn’t get a trial. The headmaster was forced to leave the school, and Draco Malfoy strutted around, telling everyone that his father made the Board of Governors sack him. Then, at the end of the year, Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid were back, and Dumbledore told us all that a student who’d been possessed by a dark artefact was really the one responsible.”

Amelia put her fork down. “Wait. What petrifications?”

Susan rolled her eyes. “Don’t you read the letters I send you? The petrifications! It began with a cat and one of the ghosts, but then students got attacked. We thought it was Harry Potter at first, because of the parseltongue and the whole thing with Creevy and Justin, but when Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater were attacked, we realised that it couldn’t be him.”

“There was nothing in any of your letters about anyone being petrified,” Amelia objected, trying to remember what the letters had contained. “I would have sent a team to investigate!”

Susan stared at her eyes narrowed. “Well, I definitely told you. Do you still have them?”

Amelia had the family house-elf, Fonty, retrieve the letters, and sure enough, information about the petrifications was written clear as day. Further investigation showed lingering traces of some kind of confidentiality spell that had recently been broken.

“How odd,” murmured Amelia, trying to remember where she’d seen something like this before. “I’ve read about this sort of spell. It’s generally only used in highly secret ministry operations, where classified information needs to be passed on in a hurry, and there’s no time for more stringent measures. What in Merlin’s name is it doing on a school letter?”

Pushing her plate away, Amelia took the opportunity to skim through the letters for any information she’d missed the first time around.

What she read was disturbing on several levels. By then, Susan had moved on from talk of possessions and petrified students and was talking about Hannah’s crush on one of the fifth-year boys.

After dinner, Amelia steered the conversation back to the school year’s events. It wasn’t hard; Susan seemed delighted to be able to unload all the fear and uncertainty she and her classmates had suffered at the knowledge that there was a monster stalking the corridors, petrifying people at whim.

“What did Professor Sprout say about it all?” Amelia asked after careful questioning had revealed a shocking lack of safety measures. What had the staff been thinking?

Susan shrugged. “Just that the headmaster had matters in hand. We basically took that to mean that because it was Harry Potter doing it, nothing would get done. Our prefects told us to avoid him at all costs, and that mostly worked.”

“It wasn’t Harry Potter, though,” Amelia pointed out, frowning. “He had no more idea about what was going on than you did, with the added burden of a lot of people blaming him. I hope you apologised for your behaviour later.”

“Why would I?” asked Susan. “It was an honest mistake. He’s a parselmouth! The message on the wall said it was from the Heir of Slytherin! Then there was that whole thing with Justin and the snake! How were we supposed to know that was just a coincidence?”

What followed was a long discussion about the difference between taking precautions and making accusations based on circumstantial evidence and the importance of owning up to your own decisions either way.

Susan didn’t want to admit that she should really have apologised. Eventually, she agreed that it was unfair for Harry to put up with school-wide shunning due to Malfoy’s crappy behaviour.

Amelia saw that she’d at least given Susan something to think about and decided to leave it at that. At least, as far as Susan was concerned.

Having broken the spell on Susan’s letters already, Amelia set up a system to ensure all of Susan’s correspondence was run through a magical detection service in future. The moment a concealment spell was detected, she planned to go straight to Dumbledore and demand answers.

There was also the Ministry side of things to be looked into.

Amelia was horrified, but not shocked, to discover that Hagrid had been imprisoned without trial. Since he’d already been freed, there wasn’t much to be done, but the fact that it happened at all was a nasty warning sign and something Amelia made a note of.

The right of an arrested person to receive a fair trial was one of the fundamental cornerstones of any civilisation, and any incidences of that right being overturned by those in power for their own convenience was like a lit beacon saying, ‘look deeper for more corruption.’

Amelia looked deeper, and there was plenty of corruption to be found.

Unfortunately, the probable ringleaders of the entire circus were being careful to avoid taking any actions that were, by themselves, worthy of an investigation. Trying to get the Minister arrested for overstepping his authority in the Auror department would only succeed in making her look petty, undermining her effectiveness in the future.

However, doing nothing was, in itself, undermining her authority. If she left it too long to act, she wouldn’t have any left.

Now that she was paying closer attention, Amelia’s list of non-regulation occurrences just kept growing. The main culprits seemed to be the Minister and his Senior Undersecretary, a rather odious woman called Dolores Umbridge.

The two of them were known to have frequent closed-door meetings with several individuals that had no real business loitering around the Ministry when the Wizengamot wasn’t in session. The most worrying of these was Lucius Malfoy.

Amelia might not have even noticed the regularity of his presence if it weren’t for Susan’s reports of the previous year. Either Lord Malfoy was acting as the Minister’s agent in some top-secret mission, which seemed unlikely, or it was the other way around, and Malfoy was the one pulling the strings.

Amelia already knew which one she’d be placing her galleons on.

Amelia’s covert investigation was hampered by the furore over Sirius Black breaking out of Azkaban.

Amelia noticed Malfoy’s appearance in the Ministry less than an hour after the report was released from Azkaban, and also noted how soon after his departure the Minister called a press conference where he declared that a ‘Kiss on Sight’ order had been authorised.

Amelia, who had authorised no such thing, was not amused. It went on the list.

The Minister’s next unilateral decision, which was the stationing of dementors around the school, was unfortunately too popular for Amelia to take immediate action against.

It boggled her mind that so many would find the certain danger of the dementors less concerning than the possible danger of Sirius Black. Still, the canvassing she did at the train station while seeing Susan off provided enough proof to convince her that it wasn’t worth fighting yet. Not even discovering that dementors had boarded the train dimmed the public’s paranoia that Sirius Black might be hiding near the children.

Amelia wondered if these people had ever been exposed to dementors themselves. Surely anyone who’d experienced a dementor’s presence wouldn’t be so blasé about their proximity to children? Especially since the bulk of them had no way to defend themselves and didn’t know how to apparate away.

The incident during the Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor quidditch match was the point where the tide began to turn. Harry Potter’s fall and subsequent injury, along with the danger posed to the rest of the children by dementors acting outside the orders they were given, caused a flood of letters addressed to Amelia, demanding that she take some action.

Rather than filing the letters in the circular filing cabinet, Amelia had Moody’s latest trainee, a young woman called Tonks, answer each letter with a form letter of Amelia’s creation.

The response was bland and informative without any inflammatory language. Still, it clearly conveyed the information that the Minister himself was overseeing the dementor guard around Hogwarts and that the Auror department had yet to be officially consulted on the matter.

The Minister’s popularity began to slide.

Amelia booked an appointment with Fudge. His secretary tried to fob her off with claims that his diary was full for the next month, so Amelia calmly took the first available time slot the following month.

Fudge was mysteriously absent, leaving his Undersecretary to attend in his stead.

Amelia politely explained that she wished to speak to the Minister in person and rebooked. This time she had to wait two months for a free time slot.

Once again, Fudge had something urgent crop up.

Umbridge smiled insincerely. “The Minister has given me full authority to hold a preliminary discussion.”

Amelia’s answering smile was just as insincere and showed her upper teeth. She very much doubted that Umbridge would be familiar enough with the customs of the race that had been entrusted with Britain’s banking to know just what level of insult she’d just received. “Unless the Wizengamot either changes the law or votes you into office as Minister, I’m afraid that I’ll have to decline.”

Umbridge’s attempt at geniality faded. “Hem, hem. The Minister is the highest authority recognised by—”

Amelia got to her feet and talked over her. “Last I heard, Cornelius Fudge wasn’t our Monarch. Of course, if the Queen of England were to provide a duly witnessed and sealed decree stating that the elected Minister for Magic has full, unilateral powers in Great Britain; counter sealed by the Wizengamot with the unanimous vote of all eligible members, then I’ll agree that he has the power to change laws as he sees fit. In the meantime, I’ll continue to abide by the current ratified law, as do all worthwhile citizens.”

On her way out, she booked another appointment. This one was in late May, over three months away.

When Cornelius missed the May appointment, Amelia used a little-known law to call for a Ministerial senior management meeting in the middle of June. If Fudge ‘forgot’ this one, Amelia and her fellow heads of department would be within their rights to dismiss him as Minister and vote for an interim candidate from amongst their number, someone who would hold the reins of power until a proper election could be called.

All she needed to do was ensure that Fudge knew of the time and date of the meeting in such a way that he couldn’t wriggle out of it by claiming not to know. With that in mind, Amelia took careful notice of the Minister’s expected movements in the coming days.

When she saw that he’d made plans to witness the execution of a hippogriff at Hogwarts on the ninth of June, she practically rubbed her hands together in glee. That would do nicely.

Chapter two

Owing to the tightened security, there was now only one way in and out of Hogwarts, aside from the main gates, which were locked during term time unless there was a Hogsmeade weekend. That made ensuring the Minister didn’t manage to slip past her relatively easy.

Fully armed, with her badge of office around her neck and her pockets full of Honeydukes chocolate in case she got the opportunity to speak with Susan, Amelia flooed into the Headmaster’s office.

“Amelia,” said Dumbledore, peering at her through his half-moon glasses. “I confess I was expecting Cornelius this evening rather than yourself. This type of thing seems a little out of your remit.”

Amelia raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “But it falls under Ministerial purview?”

Dumbledore twinkled back at her. “Our esteemed Minister does like to keep abreast of all the minutiae, doesn’t he?” He made a gesture towards the visitor chairs in front of his desk. “Why don’t you take a seat and tell me how I can help you?”

Amelia eyed the options in front of her. The seating in Dumbledore’s office changed regularly; sometimes, they were plush armchairs, other times ornate but uncomfortable gaudy monstrosities. She’d long suspected that Albus Dumbledore deliberately tried to put his guests slightly off-balance without seeming to.

With that in mind, Amelia calmly transfigured one of the chairs into a replica of her office chair, offering Albus a bland, impersonal smile as she settled into it. “Thank you, Albus. To tell you the truth, I thought it best to just wait here for Cornelius rather than try to intercept him at the Ministry. For some reason, he’s been too busy to make time for me these past months. Since I need to see that he gets a rather important notification, I thought I’d catch him here. You don’t mind, do you?”

The twinkling in Dumbledore’s eyes grew more pronounced. “Not at all, my dear. Lemon drop?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” replied Amelia, helping herself. There were many areas where she disagreed with Albus, but not when it came to lemon drops. “Where do you get these? None of the ones I’ve tried manage to get quite as tart as the ones you get.”

Dumbledore looked immensely pleased. “They’re from a charming little muggle shop I came across quite by accident. A family recipe, I believe. I’ll send you the address.”

Amelia intended to thank him but was interrupted by the floo flaring.

The twinkling in Dumbledore’s eyes increased. “That will probably be Cornelius now.”

The Minister was the first to arrive, followed by Walden Mcnair, an executioner under the Committee for Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, and an elderly wizard Amelia knew by sight but had never been introduced to.

The Minister looked unhappily surprised to see her. “Amelia! What on earth are you doing here?”

“I wanted to catch up with you, Cornelius,” Amelia replied. “You’re such a busy man that you’ve somehow managed to miss meeting with me for the last six months.”

Cornelius laughed nervously, playing with the brim of his bowler hat. “Dear me, has it been that long? Surely not!”

“Oh yes. Each missed meeting was carefully recorded. It’s occurred to me that if the Minister for Magic is too busy to make time to see the Head of the DMLE, then you’ve got far too many duties. Your Undersecretary certainly has no authority for them. Therefore, I’ve decided to take some of them off your hands.”

“What?”

Amelia forged forward ruthlessly. “Following item three, subsection d, of the Ministerial Code of office, I’ve called a senior management meeting to get this situation resolved. I’m now formally notifying you that the meeting will be held Wednesday, 15 June, at 10.00 am in Meeting Room Two.” She handed him the written notification, knowing that the recording equipment back at the Ministry would have registered his handprint.

“What? There’s no need for something like that, Amelia; I’m sure the missed meetings were just a mistake. Why don’t I make time for you next week? No need for any of this.” Fudge waved the envelope.

Amelia was unmoved. “The other attendees have already accepted. Be there, Cornelius, and don’t try to send your Undersecretary in your stead.”

Fudge scowled, tucking the notification into a pocket in his robes.

Amelia continued. “While I’m here, I might as well look into this hippogriff business. I’ve looked through the required reporting for the execution of a level XXX magical creature, and it seems that a number of the witness reports are missing. Of course, I immediately realised that it must have just been a filing error, but rather than allow a possible miscarriage of justice to take place; I thought I’d come along and make sure you had completed all the documentation first.”

“This is outside your authority!” said Cornelius desperately. “Your power only rests over the DMLE; you have no right to—”

“Normally, I would agree with you,” interrupted Amelia. “But when I saw both you and your Undersecretary taking liberties with my department that neither of you had official authorisation for, I realised that lack of authority didn’t matter a jot provided you hold a high enough office that the lower-tiered workers felt uncomfortable refusing your demands.”

“But—”

“So I followed your example. As it happens, the people I talked to were incredibly kind and helpful. When I walked in with my old mentor, Mad-Eye Moody—you know old Mad-Eye, don’t you Cornelius? I recall him mentioning a few incidents you were both involved in when you were working as an Obliviator—they just fell over themselves to get me the documents I wanted to look at.”

“But, but…”

This time Amelia gave the Minister a chance to complete his sentence. Fudge just stared at her, silent.

“Does this mean the Aurors won’t be investigating my daughter’s shop after all?” piped up the old wizard who’d been listening to the whole exchange with wide eyes. “Oh, she’ll be so pleased. She was so upset to have Auror Dawlish loitering outside and making loud comments about possible illegal practices.”

That was a new one. Dawlish was part of the Minister’s security force, not any investigatory team. A group of eight aurors had been handpicked by the Minister, rather than Amelia, as was usual practice. It was a precaution put into place by Minister Blishwick during a stressful period where the Head of the DMLE belonged to a family that had called a blood feud on the Minister.

Something else that Amelia needed to investigate.

“You have my word that Auror Dawlish is going to find himself far too busy in the near future to be concerned with loitering anywhere,” Amelia assured him. “Do you mind telling me what you’re here for?”

“Oh, I’m the committee representative for the appeal,” explained the wizard. “It’s not really by the book, there should be five of us at least, but Cornelius insisted, you know. Explained that it was all cut and dried, and he just needed me here for the look of the thing. Most of the committee suddenly came down with a dreadful illness, you see. Some form of vanishing sickness.”

Amelia glared at the Minister. “How fascinating! I noticed you brought the executioner with you, Cornelius. You wouldn’t be trying to cut corners, would you?”

“Look here, Amelia, this is nothing to do with you. The Department for Regulation and Control of Dangerous Creatures isn’t overseen by the DMLE.”

“It isn’t overseen by the Office of the Minister, either, but you’re here.” She held out a hand. “Come on then. If you’ve come prepared for an execution, you’ll have all the documentation with you. The originating complaint, witness testimonies from all the witnesses, hearing records, appeals minutes. I want to have a look at them.”

“I seem to have…I don’t think…” The Minister gathered his frayed dignity around him and raised his chin. “I don’t take orders from you, Amelia. I’m the Minister for Magic! The voice of the people! I’m the one who gives the orders around here!”

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “I think you’ll find that I’m the one who gives the orders around here, Cornelius.”

The Minister went from trying to look imperious to conciliatory. “Come now, Amelia. What difference does it make to you if we cut a few corners to remove a dangerous hippogriff from the world? He attacked a child, you know. Completely unprovoked.”

“Then there’s no reason not to go through the appropriate steps,” replied Amelia, unmoved. “Albus, I’m sure you’re keeping such a dangerous creature well away from the vulnerable students?”

“Of course,” replied Dumbledore. “I have to say, though, Cornelius, I think calling the attack ‘unprovoked’ is a little shy of the truth. More than half the eyewitnesses agree that Mr Malfoy had been instructed on the correct way to approach a hippogriff and yet chose to blatantly insult it. And really, the boy got little more than a scratch.”

Amelia narrowed her eyes. “Is this the same Mr Malfoy who openly boasted last year that his father had bribed and threatened the board of governors into dismissing you, Albus?”

Dumbledore coughed. “I wasn’t here at the time, so I didn’t see the behaviour you describe, but I imagine so. Young Draco is the only Malfoy who has attended in at least a decade.”

“This is most interesting,” said Amelia. “That was around the time you were performing arrests and sending people to Azkaban without trial, wasn’t it, Cornelius?”

The brim of the Ministers bowler hat was starting to look a little battered. “Something had to be done, Amelia. You weren’t doing anything about it!” His eyes began to bulge slightly, and sweat had formed on his forehead.

“Yes, well, it turns out I often don’t bother with crimes that aren’t reported,” replied Amelia. “Mostly because I don’t know they’ve happened. This brings to mind a word I wanted to have with you, Albus. Why is it that despite my niece writing to me about all the nasty business with petrifications and whatnot that was going on last year, I was only able to read the words she’d written on the subject when I knew it was there to be read?”

Dumbledore blinked. “I have no idea, Amelia. That sort of censorship only occurs when the war wards are up over the owlery. The last time I invoked those was in 1979, when Voldemort announced he intended to target Hogwarts. There were several indications that someone in the school was working as a go-between for some of Voldemort’s fringe elements, so I warded the owlery to censor any mention of Voldemort and his movements, or anything related to him.”

Amelia nodded. “And when did you disengage them?”

“I can’t quite recall.” Dumbledore turned to the row of portraits closest to his desk. “When would that have been, Armando? Sometime in 1981 or 1982, I would imagine.”

“That ward was never disengaged, Headmaster. You made a brief mention that you ‘should get that done’ in December of 1981, but never followed through.”

Cornelius’ eyes bulged even further. “What are you implying? Lord Thingy is dead and gone! The petrifications had nothing to do with him!”

Amelia frowned. “Wait. If the wards were active, and work as you say, then that means that only someone who knew about the issue would be able to read any information sent from Hogwarts about it. Cornelius, who informed you of what was going on here?”

“Lucius told me about it and then showed me a letter his son had written,” replied the Minister. “Do you mean to say that he was aware of what would happen beforehand? No! This is another attempt to slander him!”

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and peered at Cornelius over the tops of his half-moon glasses. “The magic item that caused the possession was a rather foul piece of magic that Voldemort created, so the wards’ suppression of the events relating to its activities is logical. As for Lucius…he didn’t deny his involvement when the suggestion was put to him, only stated that it couldn’t be proved.”

“No!”

“Would you care to see my memory of the event?” The twinkle in Dumbledore’s had dimmed. “I believe you have the time since Amelia appears to have put the kibosh on your plans to execute the hippogriff tonight.”

“You know that memories can’t be altered without it being obvious,” noted Amelia. “What harm would it do just to look?”

Fudge looked helplessly at Macnair and the wizard from the Committee for Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. Macnair was wearing his usual scowl, but the elderly wizard, whose name Amelia still didn’t know, looked very interested in proceedings.

Fudge sighed. “Very well.”

“I’ll take a look too, if you don’t mind,” said Amelia.

Dumbledore nodded, rising to retrieve his Pensieve from a cupboard behind him. “Not at all, Amelia.”

The memory was as Dumbledore said. Malfoy’s guilt was obvious, yet the lack of any kind of admission meant that there was no avenue for prosecution.

Fudge watched the whole thing with wide eyes and an open mouth. “No,” he said, shaking his head in denial when the memory was finished, and they’d been ejected. “Why would he… How could he have…” Screwing his eyes closed, he took a deep breath. “I’d like to see it again.”

This time when he emerged, Fudge was incensed. “He did it, didn’t he? He didn’t even pretend to be surprised or to deny it! He knew all along, and he still got me to…” He blinked, then shut his mouth hard. “I believed him! He sold me his sob story, and I fell for it! All this time, he’s been using me! Me!”

Amelia exchanged a long look with Dumbledore. Surely Fudge wasn’t that clueless? Even without the recent brushes with illegality, Malfoy’s power plays were blatant enough that everyone in the Ministry knew exactly who currently owned Minister Fudge.

Either the Minister was much less politically savvy than Amelia had been giving him credit for, or he was a superb actor.

Time would tell. Amelia wasn’t inclined to give him much benefit of the doubt.

Her gaze slid to Macnair and the old wizard from the Committee for Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. Fudge’s ‘change of heart’ wasn’t going to be a secret for long.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Yes, well, it’s never nice to discover that people you thought you knew have been manipulating you. Why, I remember back when I was a much younger man, I had a great friend who—”

“Yes, yes, but what am I going to do about Lucius?” said Fudge fretfully. “If I try to talk to him, he’ll just tie me up in verbal knots until I don’t know which way is up.”

“Can’t your Undersecretary help?” suggested Amelia. “She’s done rather a fine job of ensuring that I don’t talk to you. I’ve been trying to schedule an appointment since October.”

“That won’t do any good,” muttered Fudge. “Dolores and Lucius are thick as thieves. Between them, I don’t have a lot of say in my daily activities.”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “Then fire her, Cornelius. She reports directly to you; she’s one of the few people whose position the Minister has full discretion over.”

Fudge winced. “But who will replace her? I don’t normally deal with the rest of the staff; Dolores takes care of that. And who would be able to stand up to Lucius? He’s very convincing.”

A terrible and wonderful idea crossed Amelia’s mind. “I’ve got just the person for you. One of my older aurors, nearing retirement age but too stubborn to put the badge away. Why don’t I send them along to act as your Undersecretary for the next year? That should give you enough time to look over possible replacements. I can have them in your office, ready to start, by lunchtime tomorrow.”

“Yes, yes, that sounds good.” Fudge seized the lifeline she offered him immediately. “Have a talk with her and send her up.” He turned and noticed the interested audience. “You two! If either Lucius or Dolores hears about this before I’m ready, you’ll both be fired and sent to Azkaban!”

Amelia sighed. “Cornelius, you can’t arbitrarily send them to Azkaban. What you can do is have them arrested and tried for treason. If they’re found guilty, then they’ll be sent to Azkaban.”

Fudge laughed nervously. “Yes, that’s what I meant, of course. Come on now; we might as well get back to the Ministry. As Amelia pointed out, we don’t have the necessary paperwork for this execution; it won’t be happening tonight.”

“You go ahead,” said Amelia. “Dumbledore and I still need to have a discussion about his wards.” Perhaps she emphasised ‘discussion’ enough to give Fudge a slightly warped idea about her intentions, but any politician who’d risen to his rank on merit would have been wary about something like that, so if he was fooled it, was his own fault.

Visibly glad to be escaping her ire, Fudge ushered the other two hurriedly through the floo.

Dumbledore barely waited until the fire died down before he started talking. “Really, Amelia. I thought you were fond of Alastor.” His eyes were twinkling madly from behind his half-moon glasses.

Amelia raised her eyebrows at him. “Can you think of anyone less likely to bow to pressure from Lucius Malfoy?”

Dumbledore chortled merrily. “Oh, I don’t doubt he’ll be a fine guard dog, my dear. I just fear for the sanity of the rest of the workers in the Office of the Minister.”

“His bark is worse than his bite. Provided you’re not a death eater, anyway.”

“I can’t imagine Alastor will be thrilled at the prospect.”

“Then he shouldn’t have encouraged me to ruthlessly exploit loopholes.” Amelia re-took the chair that she’d transfigured. “I’d still like to see something done about these mail wards, Albus.”

“Of course,” agreed Dumbledore. “I’ll see to it first thing—”

“Now, Albus.”

Dumbledore sighed. “It’s not quite as simple as just waving a wand, I’m afraid. Once a ward has been active for over a decade, it becomes entrenched in the overall ward structure. Disentangling it without bringing down the whole thing will be a delicate task, something to be approached with caution. The wards will need to be completely mapped before it can begin.”

Amelia stared at him. “You’re a busy man, Albus. Just when exactly do you think you’ll have this done by?”

“Oh, I would say it should be completed by this time next year, if the people I want to work on it are available immediately.”

Amelia took a deep breath before letting it out again. “That’s not good enough. Walk me through the steps involved; I’ll see what I can do to get you the people you need to get it done sooner.”

Dumbledore sighed. “Very well.” With a wave of his wand, he changed his desk into a large table engraved with a dimensional map of Hogwarts and its grounds. “I’ll bring up the ward schematic.” The map was suddenly alive with colour, woven together like an impressionist tapestry. A living impressionist tapestry, ever moving.

It was vivid enough that Amelia felt like shading her eyes. “I think I’m beginning to see the scope of the issue.”

“Indeed. Now, a non-integrated ward tends to flow along the outer edges of the ward system, like so.” Dumbledore frowned with concentration, his magical aura intensifying sharply. Then he tapped the four corners of the table with his wand, and a new, solitary purple line began snaking its way along the outside of the main building, and a small purple dot began flashing somewhere inside the castle.

“What does that one do?”

Dumbledore smiled briefly. “It locates lemon drops. I created it some years back. A rather mischievous group of students had a competition where they tried to get into my office, and they used my lemon drops as proof of entry.”

“And the ward let you know who was to blame?”

“It allowed me to see who’d succeeded,” corrected Dumbledore. “One shouldn’t discourage ingenuity, you know, and they didn’t cause any harm. It was also good to discover where the holes in my office security were. The loss of a few sweets was a cheap price to pay.”

Amelia laughed. “Nice.” She’d have to remember that. Maybe she could arrange something similar for her auror recruits? Perhaps a challenge to see if any of them could get into her office and remove a specific item without being caught?

Another flashing area on the map caught her eye. “What’s this bit?” she asked, pointing to it.

Dumbledore frowned. “Hmm. Let me get the ward book.” He moved over to a bookshelf and pulled out a massive tome, opening it and flicking through the first couple of pages. “Let me see now… dark blue and silver…”

One of the paintings behind Amelia gave a theatrical cough.

Dumbledore flicked a glance at it. “Not now, Phineas.”

“Of course, Headmaster. I only thought you might like to know that Dementors are on a trajectory to swarm a group of students on the grounds.”

“Location?” barked Amelia, pulling her primary wand from its holster.

“Near the Lake.”

Amelia ran from the room, Dumbledore close on her heels. As she ran, she pulled her necklace of office out of her shirt, holding it in her hand. “All Dementors in the vicinity, retreat to the outer gates. I repeat, all Dementors to the outer gates!”

“This way!” called Dumbledore, disappearing into a solid section of wall. Amelia followed, finding that the wall was an illusion. Dumbledore grabbed her shoulder. “I need to be touching you when we go through the next doorway, or you’ll be re-routed to the upper floors again.”

Amelia nodded, allowing Dumbledore to pull her with him. The other side of the doorway was one of the antechambers to the Great Hall. After taking a second to reorient herself, Amelia was off running again.

A cluster of Dementors came into view, moving to surround what looked like two children who were trying to protect a possible third child, who was already unconscious on the ground. One of the children had managed to produce a Patronus mist, but it was barely enough to give the Dementors pause.

Amelia pulled the memory of being asked to stand as Susan’s godmother to the forefront of her mind with the ease of much practice. “Expecto Patronum!” Her African Leopard, Athena, flowed from her wand and raced towards the Dementors. A silver phoenix followed.

Not a moment too soon, as one of the Dementors had already removed its hood and was starting to lean towards the dark-haired child that it held in its grip.

Athena leapt onto the Dementor, knocking it away from the child. The other Dementors had already begun to scatter, so Athena and the phoenix circled the group protectively.

Amelia wasn’t as fast as she used to be and running left her rather more out of breath than she would like, but she was soon close enough to realise that the child who’d nearly been kissed was none other than Harry Potter!

By some dint of staggering determination, he was still conscious and aware enough to speak.

“Sir, Ron and Snape!” Potter said, focused on Dumbledore. “They’re back near the Willow. Pettigrew got away, just like Trelawney said. And Lupin forgot his potion.”

Dumbledore turned to Amelia. “You stay here; I’ll look for the others and bring them over.”

Amelia nodded, fishing in her pocket for the chocolate she’d intended to give Susan. She handed it to Potter. “Here, this will help.”

“Thank you,” said Potter politely.

Amelia turned to the figures on the ground. One of them was a girl around Susan’s age, and the other…

“That’s Sirius Black! You captured him?”

Both Black and the girl were suffering from Dementor exposure. Not waiting for an answer, Amelia quickly bound Black with a modified Incarcerous, but there was nothing she could do for the girl except ensure she was comfortable.

“Don’t let him be Kissed!” said Potter urgently, words slightly muffled by the chocolate in his mouth. “He’s innocent; he never had a trial. It was Pettigrew; he even admitted it!”

Amelia pursed her lips. “Do you mind if I check you for a Confundus, Mr Potter? Pettigrew is dead.”

Potter was already gaining colour. “I’m not Confounded! After faking his death, Pettigrew spent the last twelve years as a rat with the Weasleys. Only a finger was ever found, remember? But Sirius was never the secret keeper; Pettigrew was.” He looked down at the dirty unconscious figure at their feet. “He said he never got a trial.”

“If you’re not Confounded, then you won’t mind me checking.”

Potter narrowed his eyes. “Who are you, anyway? I’ve never met you before.” He gripped his wand more firmly, raising it to a ready position.

Amelia was impressed. Moody would love this one. “My name is Amelia Bones; I’m Head of the DMLE.”

No sign of recognition sparked in Potter’s eyes. “I know a Susan Bones, but I don’t know what DMLE means.”

“Susan is my niece, and DMLE stands for Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” replied Amelia, concerned that he didn’t know something so basic. She’d heard that he was muggle raised, but surely the muggleborn introductory material explained how Magical Britain worked.

Potter lowered his wand. “Then, can you see that Sirius gets a trial? We were going to ask the Headmaster if he could do something. With the Kiss on Sight order, it’s not like he can hand himself in.”

“You have a point,” Amelia acknowledged. “May I cast that spell now?”

“If you promise to get him a proper trial.”

Amelia sighed. “How about I promise to question him under veritaserum? If he still claims he’s innocent and didn’t receive a trial while under its effects, I will personally see that the matter is taken care of.”

“What is verita… whatever that was?”

“It’s a powerful truth potion. When someone has been given three drops, they can’t lie.”

Potter considered that. “Okay. But I want to be there.”

“Fine.” Amelia raised her brows. “May I cast the spell now?”

Potter gripped his wand tighter but nodded.

Amelia wasn’t surprised to get a negative result. Potter bargained too cunningly for someone whose brains had recently been scrambled by a spell. For someone so inherently suspicious to believe his tale, Black must have been very convincing.

“You’re not confounded,” Amelia said, lowering her wand. In the light of the full moon, she could see Dumbledore slowly approaching, towing two stretchers. “I’m curious as to why you’re so invested in the fate of someone you have every reason to hate. What made you even listen to him?”

Potter sighed. “It was Scabbers, mostly. Scabbers was my friend Ron’s pet rat. He belonged to Percy, but his parents got him an owl when Percy made prefect. Ron was about to start Hogwarts and didn’t have a pet, so he got Percy’s old rat. Scabbers has been looking sick all year, since the news got out that Sirius escaped. When Sirius said that he was after Scabbers, not me, a lot of stuff from this year made sense. It was enough for me to give him a chance to explain.”

Amelia frowned. “I’m lost. You’re saying that Black broke out of Azkaban to kill your friend’s pet rat on the off-chance it was Pettigrew?”

“They were friends at Hogwarts,” Harry explained. “Sirius knew what Pettigrew’s animagus form looked like, and he knew Pettigrew was with the Weasleys because of the picture in the Prophet. When he realised that Pettigrew was at Hogwarts, where I was…”

It did make a lot of sense. Amelia was well on her way to being convinced herself.

“He’s my godfather,” Potter continued. “He should have been my guardian. He said that when his name is cleared, I can live with him instead of my aunt and uncle. It will be like having a family.”

Further alarm bells started ringing in Amelia’s mind. Looked like there was something else to investigate. Perhaps she needed to look at getting an Undersecretary of her own; the things requiring her attention were multiplying at an alarming rate.

Of course, if Fudge followed through with tonight’s resolution and started focusing on his own job rather than trying to usurp Amelia’s, that would decrease her current workload significantly.

At Dumbledore’s arrival, Potter’s attention switched to the redheaded boy the Headmaster was levitating, a Weasley if ever she saw one. “Ron! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Weasley replied. “Other than a raging headache, that is. He got away, Harry.”

“I know,” said Harry. “But this lady is Susan’s aunt, and she’s agreed to question Sirius under a truth potion and then get him a trial.”

Weasley’s eyes widened. “Madam Bones? Head of the DMLE?”

Harry nodded. “That’s her.”

Weasley settled back. “Uh, nice to meet you, ma’am.” His face, which had been pale with either fright or pain, turned pink. “Is Hermione okay?”

“She was knocked out by Dementor exposure,” explained Amelia. “A nice warm room and some chocolate, and she’ll be fine.” She glanced over at Snape, who was letting himself be levitated with little concern as to what was going on around him.

“Professor Snape suffered an unfortunate knock to the head,” explained Dumbledore. “He was rather distraught upon revival, so I administered a calming potion. Hopefully, it won’t interfere with any treatment Madame Pomphrey wishes to give him. Why don’t we make our way to the infirmary? We can talk in more comfort there.”

Amelia nodded. “I’ll take care of levitating these two. Pomphrey can get them settled while I pop back to the Ministry to pick up some veritaserum.” She was also going to make a quick trip to the Trial Records department to pick up the file on Sirius Black, but no need to mention that in front of Potter.

“I’m sure Professor Snape has veritaserum available,” suggested Dumbledore as they began making their way to the castle entrance. Potter had dropped back to walk beside Weasley, their voices low enough that Amelia couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Amelia raised her eyebrows. “Interesting. Veritaserum is restricted, and no one here has the authorisation to use it. For what purpose would Professor Snape have a restricted potion on hand?”

“As Head of the Wizengamot, I—”

“Can oversee trials but are excluded from taking part in law enforcement activities, including the questioning of witnesses.”

“I’m sure that on this occasion—”

Amelia was firm. “The law regarding veritaserum is clear, completely unambiguous. It was very carefully worded to avoid possible miscarriages of justice, and there are no loopholes for you to exploit. I’ll be getting official veritaserum from the Ministry, and tomorrow I’ll send a team around to inspect the castle for illegal potions.”

Dumbledore nodded sheepishly. “Quite right, Amelia.”

Amelia didn’t expect her inspectors to find anything to prosecute within Snape’s stores, not when she was giving such advanced notice of an inspection. It would require him to get rid of anything illegal as well as provide her with an excuse to give the entire castle a quick sweep.

If Potter was right and Black was innocent, then the shit was about to hit the fan. Luckily, Amelia already had a plan for getting Fudge’s support. All she had to do was point out how heroic he would look by fixing the previous administration’s monumental screw-up, and he’d fall over himself to see justice done.

As exhausting as the whole thing would no doubt turn out to be, Amelia was pleased. This was precisely the kind of thing she’d become an auror to achieve.

It was only a tiny step on a steep and windy path, but every step was to be celebrated.