Fudge, sensing the tide of the hearing turning against him, banged his gavel in a desperate attempt to regain control.
"Now, Assistant Minister Umbridge," he said, forcing a chuckle. "You've been working far too hard lately. You must be exhausted. Why don't you let me take over from here?" He dismissed his fuming assistant and walked down from the dais, his large belly preceding him.
"Mr. Weasley," he began, trying to fix Arthur with an intimidating stare. "Please do not beat around the bush. I ask you, was this car already modified when it came into your possession?"
"No, Minister Fudge," Arthur replied calmly.
"Then," Fudge pounced, sensing a kill, "can I assume that you did, at one point, possess a Muggle artifact? That from the time you acquired this car until the modifications were complete, you were illegally in possession of said artifact?"
"Oh, of course not, Minister," Arthur said, reaching into his robes. "Please allow me to present this contract. It clearly states that I only paid a Muggle to rent this car. It never belonged to me." He raised his eyebrows triumphantly at Fudge, who was completely caught off guard.
"Liar!" Fudge roared, his face turning puce. "That's a fake! We wizards could forge ten thousand copies of that at any time! I demand that this contract be inspected!" His plan was simple: once he had the contract, he would have a trainee "accidentally" destroy it.
Aiden, unable to stomach the nauseating atmosphere any longer, decided to end the farce. A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips as he took out his monocle and placed it over his eye. A glint of light from the lens caught Fudge's gaze. The Minister's eyes went glassy for a fraction of a second, and Aiden activated the monocle's recording function.
The next moment, Fudge's innermost thoughts came spilling from his mouth. "Damn Weasley," he snarled, his voice his own but the words utterly involuntary. "Damn Prewett! Can't you just spit out the money obediently so I can be done with you?"
Aiden's hand brushed over the frame, ending the recording.
Fudge's confession was the final straw. The jury had turned completely against him. Seeing his chance, Aiden tugged at Arthur's sleeve. Arthur immediately understood and stepped forward.
"Gentlemen of the council," he said, his voice ringing with conviction. "If you still possess a shred of justice, I ask you to give me a fair judgment."
A roar went up from the council members. "Not guilty!" "Not guilty!" Someone even took off his hat and threw it at Fudge, who could only flee the chamber in a panic.
And just like that, the absurd hearing came to an end.
That afternoon, Aiden, having just returned to school, trudged to his Herbology class. Professor Sprout walked in, fuming. It took her a long moment to compose herself.
"Alright, class, let's not waste any more time," she said finally. "Today, I will be teaching you how to repot Mandrakes." She began distributing thick, fluffy earmuffs to the students.
"I wonder who could have made the good-tempered Professor Sprout so angry," Ethan whispered.
"I think I know," Edmund leaned over and muttered. "I heard from some of the older Slytherins that Lockhart went to 'help' her treat the Whomping Willow this morning."
"Ahem." Aiden, who had been engrossed in the gossip, looked up to find Professor Sprout staring directly at him. His friends quickly lowered their heads and fell silent.
After class, Aiden was on his way to the Room of Requirement when a shadow fell over him, blocking his path.
"Oliver? What's wrong?" Aiden asked, a little surprised.
"Aiden, are you going to practice magic?" Oliver asked, his voice quiet but intense. "Can... can you take me with you?"
"Of course. Let's go."
The two of them went to the Room of Requirement together.
"So this is where you used to practice," Oliver said, looking around the vast, empty space. Seeing the once vibrant boy so silent and withdrawn filled Aiden with a complicated mix of emotions.
"So," Aiden began, "you want to improve your combat skills?"
"Yes."
Oliver drew his wand and fired a spell. A jet of red light shot toward Aiden, who calmly summoned his long staff. A hexagonal crystal barrier appeared before him, and the spell dissipated harmlessly against it.
"Come on, Aiden!" Oliver shouted, his voice raw. "I want to see the real gap between us!"
"As you wish."
Aiden moved his staff, and four beams of pure energy flew out, cutting through the air and surrounding Oliver from all sides. Oliver managed to block one of them, but the other three struck him, knocking him to the ground.
Seeing that he had no intention of getting up, Aiden walked over.
"Aiden," Oliver said, staring up at the stone ceiling. "You mentioned the legendary Resurrection Stone..."
'Ah,' Aiden thought with a sigh. 'This is the knot in his heart.'
"Are you sure you want to go looking for those things?" Aiden asked, his voice serious.
"Yes," Oliver replied firmly.
"And what if the Resurrection Stone can't grant your wish? Will you follow your father's path?"
"Absolutely not," Oliver said, his jaw tight. "I will not use such despicable methods to achieve my goals."
"Okay," Aiden said, making a decision. "I can tell you that according to my family's records, the last of the Peverell line integrated into the wizarding families of Britain. So the Deathly Hallows are most likely still circulating somewhere on this land."
"Thank you."
Aiden shared a few more carefully selected pieces of information with Oliver, then turned and left the Room of Requirement.
[Ding. Is it truly right to give him false hope?]
'People need to have goals in life,' Aiden thought back, clenching the gem on his staff. 'Even if they're fake, at least they keep them from getting lost. Didn't you see his magic mutating in the Deep Realm?' He took a deep breath. 'If one day, it really comes to the point where there's no other choice, then let me...'
"Let you what?" Edmund asked, stepping out from a nearby corner.
"Ah—let me pay the compensation," Aiden said, smoothly changing the subject. "You know I was summoned to a hearing. Minister Fudge threatened me to my face, wanted me to spit out my Galleons." He paused. "By the way, did you send out that recording I gave you?"
"Of course," Edmund replied, looking around cautiously. "That kind of stereoscopic imaging technology is a huge revolution. Are you sure you want to hand it over to my family to manage?"
"I am," Aiden said. "But if one day I need it, your family needs to help me with all its strength."
"I don't care," Edmund said with a casual wave of his hand. "My old man has already agreed, so there's no problem."
The two of them walked toward the Great Hall, where lunch was being served. Ron was sitting at the Gryffindor table, trying to mend his broken wand with Spellotape.
"Didn't Aiden give you a ring-wand?" Harry asked. "Why are you still using that?"
"That thing requires special training," Ron said dejectedly. "I haven't even read one of the books Aiden gave me."
Suddenly, an owl flew in and crash-landed in a bowl full of cereal.
"It's Errol," Ron sighed, untying a scarlet letter from the owl's leg.
"Hey, look!" Seamus Finnigan shouted, always eager for a bit of drama. "Ron got a Howler!"
Ron's hands trembled as he opened the letter. A giant, disembodied mouth appeared before him and began to scream.
"...STOLE THE CAR! I WOULDN'T BE SURPRISED IF THEY EXPELLED YOU! IF I CATCH YOU, YOU'LL BE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE! I SUPPOSE YOU NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT HOW WORRIED YOUR FATHER AND I WOULD BE WHEN WE FOUND THE CAR GONE..."
Molly's voice, amplified a hundred times, howled through the hall. Plates and spoons rattled on the tables, and the sound bouncing off the stone walls was deafening.
"...AN UTTER DISGRACE TO THE FAMILY! YOUR FATHER IS FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK BECAUSE OF THIS, AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!"
Ron looked like he was about to faint. A few students laughed, and soon the whole hall was buzzing with whispers.
Hermione closed her copy of Voyages with Vampires and looked down at Ron with a stern expression. "Well, I hope you didn't expect anything less, Ron. You—"
"Don't say I deserved it," Ron mumbled, his face the color of a tomato.
And just like that, the first day of school ended in Ron's deafening, humiliated silence.
***********
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