0329 Wizengamot


    After nearly half a month, Bryan once again walked into the cavernous entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic building in central London.


    The immense and imposing marble entrance hall, adorned with majestic columns and grandiose architectural flourishes, was uncharacteristically bustling and swarming with people, shattering its usually solemn and hushed atmosphere. Dozens upon dozens of reporters and photographers from prestigious magical newspapers and publications around the globe, as well as a number of prominent and influential figures from the international wizardingmunity who were keenly interested in and eagerly following the highly publicized case of Peter Pettigrew, had assembled here in droves, eagerly awaiting the trial''s oue.


    Bryan had shrewdly foreseen this veritable media circus scene unfolding and had wisely disguised and concealed his appearance in advance to avoid causing an unduemotion or spectacle with his presence among the frenzied crowds.


    The Ministry, treating this trial with an unprecedented and unparalleled level of grave importance had dispatched all personnel and departmental staff not actively engaged in emergency response duties or critically essential operations to the entrance hall in a concerted effort to vigntly maintain order and control the gathered masses.


    At the entrance to the corridor leading to the elevators where Eric Munch, had been strategically stationed, the Ministry had erected sturdy magical barricades, strictly preventing any persons unrted to or uninvolved with the high-profile case from proceeding further and gaining unauthorized entry.


    Nimbly squeezing his way through the densely packed hordes of people, Bryan noticed the figure of Arthur Weasley, sweating profusely and visibly anxious, crouching tensely behind the secure barrier. The stressed Mr. Weasley''s gaze darted back and forth ceaselessly, scanning and scrutinizing the bustling crowd surrounding him, seemingly searching intently for someone or something amidst the chaos.


    "Mr. Weasley--" Bryan called out, managing to worm his way to the front of the amassed crowd. He waved his hands to attract the distracted Arthur Weasley''s attention. Facing the other man''s momentarily puzzled and questioning expression, Bryan arched an eyebrow knowingly and shed him a warm, reassuring smile, "It''s me, Bill''s old friend from school--"


    "Oh!" Mr. Weasley''s haggard face immediately lit up with a joyous expression of relief and recognition, his entire body visibly rxing and the tension ebbing away. He swiftly signaled to the vigntly guarding Auror, grabbed Bryan''s arm in a firm grip, and hurriedly ushered him through past the security barrier, leading him into the elevator hall.


    "Dumbledore mentioned that you''ve never been involved in a judicial proceeding quite like this before, so he specifically instructed me to meet and guide you through the process!" Arthur Weasley exined breathlessly as they waited for an elevator to arrive.


    Wiping away the beads of anxious sweat glistening on his forehead with the back of his hand, Mr. Weasley turned to regard Bryan appraisingly, watching as his appearance subtly morphed and reverted back to their original, undisguised form.


    "Ah, What a clever approach and prudent precaution on your part, Bryan. Where have you been, away and hidden from sight these past few days? The Wizengamot Administration Office bombarded you with over a dozen letters specifying the trial date and summons, but not a single owl could pinpoint your precise location to sessfully deliver them. Amelia Bones was at her absolute wit''s end with exasperation before she finally thought to reach out to Dumbledore for assistance—" Arthur chuckled remorsefully, shaking his head slowly.


    Bryan responded with an apologetic yet self-assured smile. "I''ve been staying at the ck Manor at Number 12 Grimmauld ce, these past few days, you see. That old Manor has extremely potent and rigorous protective enchantments and concealment measures in ce. I must confess, I had indeed put this entire legal matter out of my mind until Dumbledore dispatched Headmaster ck''s portrait to notify and remind me."


    "Ah, I see now. Of course, of course," Mr. Weasley said with a nod of understanding, letting out an chuckle. "After all, this is your first time being directly involved as a participant in legal proceedings at this level!"


    As their elevator arrived with a soft chime, Arthur shoved an borately embroidered, luxurious purple-red robe into Bryan''s arms and swiftly ushered him inside, leading the way.


    "Amelia instructed me to provide you with the official robes," he exined gruffly. "Put it on quickly now, Bryan. All the members of the Wizengamot council presiding over and participating in this trial are required to don these robes—"


    As the elevator began its smooth descent, Arthur continued grumbling under his breath with apparent displeasure, shaking his head as he forcefully poked the button for Level Nine with his index finger.


    "They''ve rather unnecessarily arranged for the full tribunal session to convene in the old and seldom-used Courtroom Ten, which this elevator doesn''t even directly ess. That ancient chamber has remained vacant and dormant since the downfall of You-Know-Who over a decade ago. Why, they even had to specially recall old Perkins from retirement just to meticulously clean up and prepare the dusty room to make it slightly presentable again for today''s proceedings. He''s essentially my lone assistant for this entire logistical endeavor—" Arthur huffed in pointed irritation.


    "No need to be so flustered and rushed, Mr. Weasley—" Bryan chuckled warmly at the other man''s characteristically flustered demeanor, his richughter filling the small elevator.


    "The Wizengamot tribunal certainly won''t outright cancel or postpone their long-awaited session simply on ount of my momentary dy orteness. Likewise, that traitor Peter Pettigrew certainly won''t evade justice and his long-overdue punishment because of me."


    The elevator smoothly glided to a halt with a soft chime, and the ceremonious voice crisply announced in clipped tones, "Department of Mysteries." Rather than offering any additional context about their destination, the emotionless female voice then fell into an expectant, foreboding silence after issuing the mere three words of introduction.


    Although the rich purple-red hue of the official Wizengamot members''s "work robes" was admittedly an atrociously garish and eye-catching shade, thevish robes nevertheless looked remarkably majestic and imposing when properly donned. The only apparent w that diminished their overall refined aesthetic was that the Ministry had seemingly forgotten to first measure and ount for Bryan''s height when preparing his robes, resulting in the deeply maroon hem to drag along the ground.


    Tugging the robes''s hem up to avoid tripping over the excess fabric, Bryan smartly reced his hat atop his head and followed closely on Arthur Weasley''s heels, striding quickly down the corridor they had emerged into. This particr corridor was eerily different in ambiance from the upper levels above, with starkly bare stone walls devoid of any doors or windows lining the chilly passage. The only visible way out was an unremarkable, simple ck door situated at the far end of the hallway. Bryan''s eyes briefly flicked appraisingly towards the unremarkable door, and a barely perceptible muscle twitched in his strong eyebrows as he silently contemted it.


    The Department of Mysteries was indeed no ordinary or harmless ce; it seemed even such a in, ordinary looking door possessed powerful magic to inherently shield itself from external magical perception and probity.


    All the way along the maze-like route they traversed, Mr. Weasley and Bryan encountered not a single soul until they rounded a sharp corner that opened onto a dimly-lit service staircase descending ever deeper below ground level.


    This secluded stairwell was suddenly heavily popted with a veritable army of security personnel. Staunchly guarding the passage and monitoring all who attempted to proceed further was the towering, broad-shouldered figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt colleague of Tonks, with whom Bryan had unexpectedly crossed paths on a couple of prior asions.


    "Good morning, Mr. Watson--" Before Bryan could speak, Kingsley greeted him with a slightly steady voice.


    "Madam Bones informed me that if I spotted you approaching to let you proceed directly through without dy,"


    Then Kingsley turned his gaze to Mr. Weasley, "I''m sorry, Arthur, but you haven''t been authorized clearance. You''ll have to stop here."


    The slightly flustered Mr. Weasley did not appear the least bit surprised or disturbed by this order, as if he had been fully expecting to be denied entry, his expression resignedly epting of the situation.


    Bryan, however, keenly aware of Arthur Weasley''s extensive connections and not-insignificant spheres of invisible influence within the ministerial bureaucracy, furrowed his brow slightly as his eyes roamed over the stern-faced hit wizards stationed at strategic intervals along the descending staircase. With a faintly puzzled expression, he turned back to Kingsley and asked,


    "Good morning to you as well, Kingsley. But is this truly necessary? We are speaking of Peter Pettigrew after all, a coward at heart, and Dumbledore himself will be overseeing the proceedings down below. He can hardly be considered a credible threat to prompt such a substantially heightened security presence--"


    "For you personally, Mr. Watson, Pettigrew''s reappearance on the scene may not elicit much concern, considering your demonstrated prowess and capability to single-handedly annihte such a substantial number of fully-transformed werewolves with rtive ease--"


    Kingsley responded, his expression growing markedly more somber and grave as he addressed Bryan''s inquiry.


    After bidding a farewell to Arthur Weasley, Kingsley turned and began leading Bryan further down the ominous stairwell into the underground depths, continuing his exnation.


    "However, it remains an undeniable fact that the Wizengamot tribunal is about to trial and pass judgment upon the most depraved, evil and cunningly ruthless Dark wizard we have encountered over this past decade since the downfall of You-Know-Who himself. Furthermore, he has already brought great disgrace to the Ministry."


    Just as the solemn Kingsley Shacklebolt had gravely stated, every single one of the stern-faced Auror security personnel stationed at rigid intervals down the spiraling stairs wore an air of utmost grimness and solemnity about them. The atmosphere was palpably thick with an unmistakable aura of preparedness to promptly employ deadly force if necessary against any potential violence that may unexpectedly erupt.


    Although Aurors were among one of the most respected, influential and admired professions within the entirety of wizarding society in the aftermath of Voldemort''s reign of terror. The newly famous Bryan Watson strode directly amidst their ranks, Yet not a single Auror sentry made any attempt to engage him in conversation as he passed, adhering strictly to ministerial protocols with dutiful vignce against any unforeseen possibilities.


    Kingsley and Bryan ultimately reached the bottom of the stairwell and proceeded further down a damp, torchlit corridor lined at intervals with more guards. The architectural style here was eerily reminiscent to the underground passages leading to the Slytherinmon room at Hogwarts – rough stone walls with torches set in brackets. The doors of the rooms they passed were all heavy wooden ones, secured with iron bolts and keyholes.


    Finally, before an ominously gloomy ck door with arge, tarnished iron lock prominently affixed to its dark surface, Kingsley came to a halt and turned to directly face Bryan, offering him a crisp, respectful nod of affirmation.


    "This is the entrance, Mr. Watson. I have received no further instructions that would permit me to proceed any further myself, so I''m afraid our paths must diverge here."


    "Thank you, Kingsley--" Bryan responded with an appreciative smile, brushing past the stoic Auror unhurriedly.


    However, as his hand made contact with the icy iron doorknob, he suddenly paused and turned back towards Kingsley''s retreating figure, calling out to halt the other wizard''s departure.


    "Oh, I nearly forgot -- Kingsley, there is one small favor I may need to trouble you for, if possible..."


    "Could you perhaps help me in requesting a few days of leave time for Tonks?" Bryan inquired, his lips quirking upwards in an understated smirk as he met Kingsley''s puzzled expression directly.


    "She''s been rather... busy solving her own rtionship statustely,"


    Leaving the bewildered Kingsley to ponder the meaning behind his cryptic words, Bryan turned and surveyed the ancient courtroom chamber expansive before him.


    The cavernous room''s walls were constructed from rough bs of ck stone, giving the space an oppressively gloomy and ominous ambiance. The torchlight emanating from the sizzling wall-mounted braziers cast a dim, wavering glow that only further contributed to the courtroom''s mysterious and unsettling aura of dark formality.


    On either side of the narrow central aisle were rising tiers of elevated stone benches forming semi-circr galleries where the members of the Wizengamot would sit over the proceedings. At the highest level benches directly across from the entrance, Bryan could discern the silhouettes of dozens of robed figures engaged in hushed, indistinct murmuring amongst themselves as they awaited the trial''smencement.


    As the creaking iron-bound door slowly swung shut behind him with a resounding thud, an abrupt nket of icy silence descended over the entire courtroom. The muffled whispers and shuffling from the gathered council members instantly ceased, as all eyes turned towards the newly-arrived lone figure standing in the entrance.


    "Bryan!" came the familiar, resonant voice of Amelia Bones, cutting through the charged stillness and echoing off the limestone walls. Her formal greeting was swiftly followed by weing calls from other prominent figures Bryan had recently be acquainted with in the political and business world.


    Among the greetings, Bryan could differentiate the recognizable tones of Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic himself, as well as the reassuring, grandfatherly tone belonging to Dumbledore.


    After entering the room, the whispers became much louder. Many wizards pointed and whispered to each other about him. Bryan looked up, his eyes shining as he scanned the rows one by one. The majority of wizards who made eye contact with him showed friendly smiles, but some had cold expressions and remained indifferent to his presence.


    Dumbledore, as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, stood behind the central podium, smiling gently at him, "Take your seat, Bryan—"


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