The Wizengamot chamber was at its height. Robes settled. Rings tapped once on wood and then stilled. When the silver gavel touched the block, the last whisper folded into the stone. The Minister's chair remained empty.
Albus Dumbledore rose from the dais. The Chief Warlock's voice carried without strain.
"Honoured Lords and Ladies. We meet under pressure but not without purpose. This chamber must provision an interim Minister who will keep the law, respect the land and restore confidence in our offices. The trials are on todays' schedule as well. Wizarding Britain demands justice." He turned to the clerk and motioned him to proceed, "read the order of business."
The clerk stood. "Appointment of an interim Minister. Interrogations and trials of Cornelius Fudge, Lord Malfoy, and Lord Nott. Review of the confinement and process concerning one Sirius Black. Registrar's report concerning House Rosier." He sat.
"Nomination is open," said Dumbledore.
Lord Greengrass rose from the Neutral benches. Expectation turned toward him. He inclined his head and surprised the chamber. "On behalf of the Neutrals, I place before the chamber the name of Lord Arcturus Black, to serve as interim Minister. He has served this sacred body long enough to guide us through these waters. We require calm administration and believe he will provide it."
Lord Abbott inclined his head. "Seconded." Lady Davis lifted a hand. Quills moved. The name went to the slate.
On the Traditionalist side, Lord Avery conferred with Lord Selwyn and rose. "The Traditional benches present Lord Selwyn. He understands and respects the traditions of the realm and the limits of 'foreign' influences. We offer him to the chamber as our candidate."
Lord Travers stood. "Seconded." The clerks wrote.
From the Progressives, Madam Marchbanks stood with her usual economy. "The Progressives nominate Lord Tiberius Ogden. He is known to us for his independence and his standards. No department owns him. No lobby commands him. He will keep the peace and the pace by maintaining the momentum of modernization."
Lord Doge rose. "Seconded."
"So recorded," said Dumbledore. "If there are no further names, we proceed to the vote."
He lifted his wand. "Light your wand red for Lord Black, green for Lord Selwyn, and white for Lord Ogden."
Wands rose. On the Progressive benches, white lights kindled first. Twelve glowed in a soft line. Four others on that bench chose red. The Neutral benches answered next. Red lights climbed along the rail and then appeared among the Traditionalists as well. One by one, members marked their choice. Even Lord Selwyn lifted a wand lit red.
The clerks walked the floor and counted. The vote was read into the record. Thirty three for Lord Black. Twelve for Lord Ogden. None for Lord Selwyn.
Before the sitting, Arcturus had done his work. There were fifty seats in the Wizengamot. In quiet conversations with Neutrals and with his own bench, the Selwyn nomination had been settled as a signal and a sieve. It would divert the loose votes from progressive and neutral wings. Illusion of freedom was what Corvus once said, and Arcturus could not agree more in that moment. Let the fool think they were voting of their own free will. Five hereditary seats were silent today. Potter, Lestrange, and Rosier stood empty. Malfoy and Nott were held in the cells and could not vote. The arithmetic had been checked before the gavel fell.
Inside his own stillness, Albus counted sums that refused to agree with him. The Neutral wall had set. Longbottom had crossed to it and carried weight with him. The loss was not arithmetic only. It was theatre, and the audience had seen it.
Rosier was the first stone in the shoe. The Registrar's report was ready. If the parchment said yes, and it had… A title would settle on a boy's head in public and the chamber would clap. He could slow that process without breaking. The matter of birthday gifts did not move him.
Sirius Black was the second stone. A non trial sits badly in any history. He was very much aware of the unruly boy had not stood trial and was shoved to Azkaban, he was the Chief Warlock after all. Sirius would be punished at most with ten years for the dead Muggles. Time already served. The question of Pettigrew's death hung like a coin in the air. It would be gamble. He will do his best to keep the boy in Azkaban. He needed Sirius there. Some of his plans were based on the man child being kept imprisoned.
His thoughts wen to the past. Old laughter pressed at the edge of hearing. Waxed floors. Rain on mullions. James bright as a coin. Sirius loud and easy. Remus with the gentleness that fools men into underestimating him. Peter one step behind, always close, always eager. He had known about their secret long before Minerva's suspicions ripened. Peter had been a jealous child and a poor one. Wealth and charm laid a fog around James and Sirius. Peter had breathed that fog for seven school years and learned to hate the men inside it. In the end he did what small men with large hunger do. He sold the room and the 'friends' inside it.
They should have noticed this, but the Marauders were not known for their sharpness. Their loyalty was borderin naivety. Three of them choose to become animagi just to 'support' the werewolf. He scoffed silently. With all their genius ideas of pranks they were blind to Peter's growing resentment for years. At least his animagus form should have give them some hints. He had the habit of playing matchmaker even on those days. Small charms, quiet nudges and a courtship encouraged where none was required. It had seemed like shepherding. Lowering the blood of the next generation for Potters by encouraging Lily to become Lady Potter. He did the same for Andromeda and was planning the same for some other houses as well but Tom was an unruly child. He returned to the moment and kept his eyes on the clerk.
Dumbledore lifted his head. "By leave of the chamber, the result is announced."
Sound moved around the benches in a tight ripple. Greengrass allowed himself the smallest incline of the head. Frank Longbottom let out a breath he had kept. Lady Davis tapped her ring twice on the rail. On the Traditionalist side, the smiles were neat, smug and thin.
Dumbledore brought the gavel down. "By vote of this chamber, Lord Arcturus Black is appointed interim Minister for Magic until a permanent Minister is confirmed. The oath will be taken now." It was one of the hardest announcements he had made. He felt the weight of every word.
Arcturus placed his palm on the old stone. The clerk intoned the oath.
"By wand and name I swear to serve this office in good faith. I will keep the Statutes and the Orders of this realm. I will seek light where law requires it. I will return this chair to the will of the chamber when called. So spoken and so recorded." It was a symbolic oath every minister, interim or not took.
"Oath recorded," said the clerk. "Interim Minister seated."
Dumbledore sat and let the noise settle. He noted Marchbanks clear her throat. Greengrass turned to Longbottom. Selwyn, Avery, and Travers exchanged thin courtesies with Arcturus.
The chamber clapped politely as Arcturus took his seat.
"The next item is the calendar for proceedings," continued Dumbledore. "Director Bones, if you please."
The side door opened. Former Minister Fudge came in chains, an Auror behind him levitating the chair of judgement. Amelia Bones walked to the floor with a single folder under her arm. The new Minister took the chair at the Chief Warlock's right and the chamber leaned forward by an inch.
--
Amelia knew the instant Greengrass spoke Black's name that the vote was settled. Today would mark a turn in the road whether the benches liked it or not. When the Chief Warlock called her forward, she rose without drama and signalled for the chair of judgment.
The iron seat settled at the center of the floor. The arm rings lay quiet. The foot shackles hung open like patient mouths. Cornelius Fudge waddled to it with the help of two Aurors, tried to sit with dignity, and failed. The chair could not take his massive form. With the help of the aurors he was squeezed in to the chair. Chains slid, coiled, and clicked. Amelia sighed. The chains were for show at this point. The man could not have stood unaided if the doors had burst open. One Auror braced a palm against the back of the chair to keep it from skidding. The iron gave a small protesting creak as the armrest met belly and cloak. Amelia marked it with a dry note in her mind, she should order some larger chairs for former ministers with the habit of embezzlement. The prisoner was already anchored by his own weight and fear. She remembered each and every instance Fudge cut the budget of DMLE and thought to make things harder for a moment. Yet her main trait was justice, doesn't matter how useless the term is she was stuck in it the same way Fudge was stuck in the chair, or the chair around his huge belly..
She opened her folder. "Cornelius Oswald Fudge. You are charged with," her voice neither rose nor fell. "Bribery. Embezzlement. Misconduct in office." She looked to the dais.
The new Minister did not make her wait. "Add treason," Arcturus said. His tone was cold enough to crack.
Amelia kept her face plain. "On what ground, Minister."
"For using the power entrusted by this chamber for private gain," Arcturus said. "For permitting that pink abomination to issue commands in his stead. For sending Aurors outside their chain of command. For selling access and protection to patrons. For placing the office against the peace and honour beneath your vault. That is betrayal of the realm."
Time in the chamber shifted, went thin. Amelia repeated it for the record. " ..and Treason. How do you plead."
Fudge shivered. He stared at the floor, then at the galleries, then at the Minister. His lips worked. He had heard how Dolores slump under Veritaserum and recite the price of every favour. He had seen the Minister's gaze on him. He could feel the chamber turn away from him like a tide.
"Guilty," he said at last.
It was a calculation, not a confession. The Veil stood at one end of the ledger. The other end held a blanket in a cold cell and years enough to breathe. He chose breath. He would not test how little patience the Black temper had for liars. He cursed the day he met the stupid frog, cursed the day he did not stopped her idiocy for going after Heir Black and mostly he cursed the moment he left the issue to her. That was the moment his downfall started he noticed while still cursing. At least they will close by and he have enough time the shout at her to his heart's content.
Amelia inclined her head and turned to the dais. "Chief Warlock."
Albus took up the text. "By current statute," he said, "the penalties are as follows. For each count of embezzlement, five years' imprisonment. For bribery, two years' imprisonment. For misconduct in office, five years' imprisonment. For treason, the Veil." He drew breath to go on.
Arcturus did not let him. "Chief Warlock, I propose that we proceed under the older ordinances." His eyes were bright and very hard. "It is my first sitting as Minister. Hence, I will be merciful. As the old law provides, all goods, gold, and deeds are forfeit to the Ministry, save one tenth set aside for the family. The bloodline is barred from taking any office for five generations. In place of the Veil, I offer mercy. Azkaban, for life. If the convict prefers the first course, let him choose it. I would not stand between him and Justice."
A run of low laughter moved along the Traditionalist benches and spilled in small drops among the Neutrals. On the Progressive side, voices rose at once. "Outmoded." "Harsh." "Contrary to the spirit of.."
"Director," said the Minister, without raising his voice, "remove the dissenters. They have forgotten where they stand."
The first noise died. The second never began. A hush spread out from the center like ink in water.
Amelia faced the prisoner again. "Cornelius Oswald Fudge. The charges stand. The Minister has spoken."
Arcturus leaned slightly over the rail, looking down into the chair. His gaze did not move. "Yes, Cornelius," he said. "What say you."