"No, no, I'm telling you I'm mixed race, I'm mixed race.

My father is a wizard, he is, you go and look it up, Archie Alderton, he is a famous broomstick designer, you go and look it up.

I'm telling you - don't touch me, don't touch -"

Jon sat on a familiar chair in the Ministry of Magic courtroom, watching the scene in front of him with great interest.

This is the first time he has seen this kind of scene. The way the Ministry of Magic handles affairs is very inefficient. Of course, this is also because they have less things to manage.

Inefficiency also has the advantage of being inefficient. He can see the emotional changes clearly. The pain and despair, for some reason, can make him feel the reality of the world.

Somewhat ironic.

Hidden in the darkness, he looked at Hermione - she was now Malfada.

She has entered the role, although it seems that she should have seen the existence of the locket around Umbridge's neck, but now she is still working seriously.

The job in the Ministry of Magic seemed to come naturally to her, and it was hard to tell whether it was a talent or something else.

But Umbridge's voice was still as ugly as ever.

He thought so and fell silent again. After all, the protagonist today was not him.

…

"This is the last warning,"

Umbridge said softly, her voice amplified by magic, clearly covering the man's desperate cry:

"If you resist any longer, you will be kissed by a dementor."

The man's screams subsided, but the sobs still echoed in the corridor.

"Take him away."

Two dementors appeared at the door of the court, their rotten and scabbed hands grasping the upper arm of a wizard, who seemed to have fainted.

The dementors dragged him down the corridor, the darkness behind them swallowing him up.

"Next—Mary Cattermole."

Umbridge shouted.

A thin woman stood up, trembling all over.

She was wearing a simple robe, her black hair was combed into a bun on the back of her head, and her face was completely pale. When the woman passed by the dementor, Harry saw her tremble.

He acted entirely on impulse, without any plan, except that he could not bear to see her enter the courtroom alone: ​​when the door began to close, he slipped in after her.

This was not the same courtroom where he was tried last time for abuse of magic. Although the ceiling was the same height, it was much smaller than that one, giving it a terrifying feeling like being at the bottom of a deep well.

There were more Dementors here, and a chill enveloped the entire room.

They are like faceless sentries, standing in the farthest corner from the high interrogation platform.

Behind the railing on the stage sat Umbridge, with Yaxley on one side and Hermione, who looked as pale as Mrs. Cattermole on the other.

A large, silvery, long-haired cat paced around the base of the platform, and Harry realized that it was there to protect the prosecutors from feeling the desperation emanating from the Dementors.

Despair is for the defendant, not the interrogator.

"sit down."

Umbridge's sweet voice said.

Mrs. Cattermole staggered to the lone chair in the center of the stage.

As soon as she sat down, chains jingled out of the armrest and held her there.

"Are you Mary Elizabeth Cattermole?"

Mrs. Cattermole nodded tremblingly.

"The wife of Reginald Cattermole of the Magical Maintenance Service?"

Mrs. Cattermole began to cry.

"I don't know where he is, he should be here with me!"

Umbridge ignored it.

"Maggie, mother of Ellie and Alfred Cattermole?"

Mrs Cattermole cried harder.

"They are very scared, worried that I may not be able to go back -"

"okay,"

Yaxley said contemptuously: "Mudblood cubs cannot arouse our sympathy."

Mrs. Cattermole's sobs muffled the sound of Harry's footsteps as he walked cautiously toward the steps of the dais.

When he passed the place where the silver cat patron saint was walking, he immediately felt the change in temperature: it was warm and comfortable here.

He was sure that the Patronus belonged to Umbridge, and if it was bright it was because she was happy here, doing what she wanted, upholding the twisted laws she had helped to create.

Little by little, Harry moved carefully behind Umbridge, Yaxley and Hermione, and finally sat down behind Hermione.

He was afraid of startling Hermione, so he originally wanted to cast an ear-blocking curse on Umbridge and Yaxley, but chanting the curse softly might also scare Hermione.

Then Umbridge raised her voice to Mrs. Cattermole, and Harry took his chance.

"I'm behind you."

he whispered to Hermione.

As expected, she was shaken violently and almost knocked over the ink bottle she was using for recording.

But Umbridge and Yaxley were so focused on Mrs. Cattermole that they didn't notice.

"When you arrived at the Ministry of Magic today, you were given a wand, Mrs. Cattermole," Umbridge was saying: "Eight and three-quarter inches, cherry wood, with a core made of unicorn hair.

Do you confirm this description?"

Mrs. Cattermole nodded and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

"Can you tell us which wizard you took this wand from?"

"Take—take?"

Mrs. Cattermole cried: "I took--from no one.

I bought it when I was eleven, and it chose me."

She cried harder.

Umbridge let out a little girlish laugh, and Harry really wanted to beat her up.

She leaned forward, trying to get a better look at her prey over the barrier, and a golden object swung to her chest, where it hung: a locket.

Hermione screamed softly, but Umbridge and Yaxley were still focused on their prey and could not hear any other sounds.

"No," said Umbridge, "no, I don't think so, Mrs. Cattermole.

The wand only chooses wizards, and you are not a wizard.

I have here the questionnaire I sent you last time - Mafalda, bring it over."

Umbridge held out a small hand: she looked so like a toad that Harry was surprised that there were no webs between the stubby fingers.

Hermione's hands were shaking with shock. She fumbled among the pile of papers on the chair next to her for a while, and finally pulled out a roll of parchment with Mrs. Cattermole's name on it.

"That-that's beautiful, Dolores."

She pointed to the shining pendant in the folds of Umbridge's blouse.

"What?"

Umbridge snapped, glancing down: "Oh, yes - an old family heirloom."

She patted the locket attached to her plump breasts and said:

"S is the abbreviation of Selwyn... I have a close relationship with the Selwyn family...

In fact, there are very few pure-blood families who are not related to me...it's a pity,"

She turned the pages of Mrs. Cattermole's questionnaire and said in a loud voice:

"You can't say that.

Parents’ occupation: greengrocer.”

Yaxley laughed disdainfully.

Under the stage, a fluffy silver cat was pacing back and forth, and a dementor stood waiting in the corner of the room.

Umbridge's lie made Harry's blood rush to the top of his head and he forgot to be cautious.

The locket she had bribed from an unscrupulous vendor was now used to prove her pureblood status.

Harry didn't even bother to continue hiding under the invisibility cloak, he raised his wand and shouted: "Collapse!"

In a flash of red light, Umbridge fell down and hit her head on the edge of the railing. Mrs. Cattermole's files slipped from her legs to the ground. The silver cat walking back and forth disappeared, and the cold air hit her like the wind.
To be continued...