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The Starlord - Chapter - 68
🕑 Added 2025-11-26 05:25:16 +0000 UTCThe sun had barely risen over Grimmauld Place when Harry pushed open the heavy curtains of the drawing room. Dust glittered in the morning light, dancing across the faded Black family tapestry. He didn’t look at it long — he wasn’t here for the Blacks today.
He was thinking of another branch of that bloodline.
One Sirius actually cared about.
Andromeda Tonks.
Harry remembered her clearly from his stay in Sweden.
She had visited Sirius unexpectedly, sweeping into the house like a gust of warm, fierce wind. Sirius told him that she wasn’t like the other Blacks. There was no haughtiness, no cruelty. Her husband, Ted Tonks, had shaken Harry’s hand with a warmth Harry rarely felt from adults.
A Muggleborn.
And most importantly—
Ted Tonks was a solicitor.
A real legal authority.
One who fought for underdogs in a world stacked against them.
Hermione needed him.
Harry stood at the writing desk, dipped a quill in ink, and began writing with rapid, sharp strokes.
Dear Mr. Tonks,
This is Harry Potter.
We met recently in Sweden during your stay with Sirius.
A close friend of mine has been summoned to the Wizengamot for underage spell use.
The accusation is unjust — she cast a Patronus in self-defense against Dementors near her home.
The Ministry is attempting to target her because of their ongoing conflict with me.
I was told you are one of the finest solicitors in our world.
We need your help.
If you are willing, please meet us at Grimmauld Place at your earliest convenience.
Time is not on our side.
— Harry Potter
Harry sealed the parchment, then attached it to an owl perched on the windowsill — an owl Sirius had gifted him before Harry took Swedish citizenship.
“Take it to Ted Tonks,” Harry said quietly.
The owl’s amber eyes gleamed, and it launched into the air, wings beating strongly as it disappeared into the morning sky.
Hermione walked into the room just as the owl vanished.
“Harry? Was that a letter?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t turn around.
“To whom?”
“Ted Tonks,” Harry replied. “He’s a solicitor. A good one. He’ll know how to handle the Ministry.”
Hermione looked uncertain. “But… will he help? He doesn’t even know me.”
“He doesn’t need to,” Harry said, finally turning toward her. His voice was firm. “He knows Sirius. And we are paying. That’s enough.”
Hermione’s eyes softened. “Thank you… for doing this.”
Harry shrugged slightly. “I’m not letting the Ministry bully you. Not now. Not ever.”
Neville, Hermione, and her parents spent the time pacing the various rooms of the house, occasionally peering from behind curtains as if expecting Aurors to burst through the street at any moment.
Harry remained seated in the drawing room, one leg crossed over the other, posture deceptively relaxed — but the atmosphere around him tense like a coiled storm.
Then—
A knock. Firm. Confident.
Not Ministry-like.
Dobby appeared instantly.
“Master Harry! A wizard is at the door!”
Harry stood.
“Let him in.”
Moments later, Ted Tonks stepped into the hallway. His hair was grayer than Harry remembered, his eyes sharp with professional alertness — but he gave Harry a warm, steady smile.
“Mr. Potter,” Ted said, extending his hand. “Got your letter.”
Harry shook it firmly. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course. And call me Ted.” He glanced over Harry’s shoulder, spotting Hermione and her parents. “You must be Hermione Granger.”
Hermione nodded nervously. “Yes, sir.”
Ted’s eyes softened. “You cast a Patronus to save your family. And they want to try you for that?” He scoffed. “This Ministry gets worse every year.”
Mrs. Granger spoke up, voice trembling. “Will they—will they find her guilty?”
Ted looked at her kindly, then at Hermione.
“Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Harry felt Hermione exhale a breath she’d been holding since the owl arrived.
Ted continued, voice all business now.
“I’ll need details. Every detail. Exactly what happened during the attack.”
Hermione stepped forward. “I’ll tell you everything.”
“And after that,” Ted said, turning to Harry with a knowing look, “we’ll discuss strategy.”
Harry nodded.
He could feel the Force humming quietly beneath his skin — not raging, not violent — but awake.
Waiting.
Ted Tonks didn’t know it, but he had just stepped into the legal fight of his life.
And Harry Potter would make sure he didn’t fight it alone.
Ted Tonks sat at the worn wooden table in Grimmauld Place’s parlor, quill hovering over parchment as Hermione finished recounting the entire Dementor attack — every icy breath, every second of terror, every detail of her Patronus bursting through the kitchen window.
When she was done, Ted sat back in his chair, thoughtful, troubled.
Harry leaned forward immediately.
“Can Hermione show her memory?” he asked. “Use a Pensieve? Prove she’s telling the truth?”
Ted sighed — a long, frustrated sound.
“I wish she could,” he said. “I truly do. But memories are not accepted as evidence in court.”
Hermione blinked. “Why not? They’re… they’re memories!”
Ted met her eyes gently.
“Because they can be altered,” he said. “Magically. Expertly. Entire memories can be forged. Modified. Constructed.”
He tapped his parchment. “The Wizengamot decided long ago that memory evidence is too easy to manipulate.”
Harry’s jaw clenched.
“So we can’t use it.”
“No,” Ted answered. “We can’t.”
Mrs. Granger squeezed Hermione’s hand. Mr. Granger stood beside her, tense, helpless, eyes shifting between the wizards in the room.
Hermione spoke again—voice small, quivering with a fear she’d kept hidden until now.
“Mr. Tonks… what were Dementors doing near my house? They aren’t supposed to roam freely. They don’t leave Azkaban.”
Her voice cracked.
“Does this mean the Ministry is working with the Dark Lord?”
Silence swallowed the room.
Neville swallowed. “I was wondering the same thing…”
Ted Tonks rubbed his temples.
“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “And I don’t like that I don’t know.”
Harry stood by the fireplace, arms folded, eyes burning in that unnatural, force-fed way that made shadows stretch and shiver.
“The Ministry wants Hermione punished,” Harry said flatly. “They’ll do anything to make an example out of someone close to me.”
Ted didn’t deny it.
Hermione’s lip trembled. “So I’m going to lose, aren’t I?”
Ted straightened. “No.”
He pointed his quill at her firmly.
“You will not lose.”
“But the Wizengamot is filled with pure-bloods,” Hermione whispered. “Most of them don’t even think Muggleborns should have wands.”
Ted nodded grimly. “True.”
Then he added, “But they also care about appearances. About public image. About looking ‘fair.’ Even if they aren’t.”
Harry snorted. “So they’ll pretend to be civilized.”
Ted gave a small smile. “Exactly.”
Hermione wasn’t convinced. “But I still broke the law.”
Ted raised a finger. “No. You defended yourself from creatures the Ministry controls. Creatures that should never have been near your home.”
He turned to Mr. and Mrs. Granger.
“And however the trial goes… trust me, I will make that point very clear.”
Harry’s voice cut through the room, sharp as a blade.
“You know they’ll fight anyway.”
Ted didn’t argue.
“They will.”
He gave Hermione a steady look.
“They will fight tooth and nail to convict you.”
Hermione swallowed.
“Because of Harry.”
Ted nodded. “Because your existence clash their centuries old believes that Purebloods are superior.”
Harry stepped closer, placing a steadying hand on Hermione’s shoulder.
“You’re not alone in this,” he said. “They want a fight? We’ll give them one.”
Ted Tonks smirked. “And I’ll handle the legal battle. Heaven knows you shouldn’t be anywhere near a courtroom unless I’m standing between you and the Wizengamot.”
Hermione let out a shaky laugh.
But the truth hung heavy in the room:
Ted gathered the last of his parchments and stood.
“We have one week,” he said. “We’ll prepare every possible angle. Every loophole. Every precedent.”
He paused, eyes flickering to Harry.
“And pray the Ministry doesn’t make this personal.”
Harry’s expression hardened.
“Oh, they already have,” he said. “But that’s their mistake.”
The shadows seemed to pulse with him
“I… I have a question,” Neville said, voice hesitant but firm. “A really important one.”
Everyone turned toward him.
Hermione wiped her eyes.
Her parents leaned forward.
Even Ted paused, quill hovering above his notes.
Neville looked nervous, but he continued.
“I’ve studied magical creatures for a long time. Including Dementors.”
He swallowed. “And there’s something that doesn’t make sense.”
Harry watched him closely.
Neville took a breath.
“Dementors don’t just… leave after failing to get someone.”
Ted frowned. “What do you mean, son?”
Neville’s voice steadied as he explained.
“Even if Muggles can’t see Dementors — even if they don’t understand what’s happening — Dementors still attack them. They kiss them. They drain them. They leave them in permanent comas.”
He looked at Hermione, face pale.
“So if two Dementors showed up near your house… they wouldn’t just ‘give up’ when they couldn’t reach you.”
The room went silent.
Neville’s next words hung in the air like a death sentence:
“They would have attacked the neighbors.”
Hermione froze.
Mrs. Granger covered her mouth.
Mr. Granger’s face went white.
Harry straightened sharply, eyes narrowing.
Ted Tonks looked stunned — then slowly nodded, his expression darkening with realization.
“That,” he said in a low voice, “is an excellent point, Neville.”
Neville blinked. “So… that matters?”
Ted’s quill began scratching furiously across parchment.
“It matters a great deal. Because Dementors don’t follow orders well. They go where the greatest despair is. They feed until stopped.”
He looked up, meeting each person’s eyes.
“If Dementors truly wandered into a Muggle neighborhood… there should be victims. Coma cases. Sudden unexplained collapses. Something.”
Hermione shivered.
Ted held up a hand.
“That means one of two things.”
He raised a single finger.
“One: the Ministry lost control of the Dementors, and they attacked at random — which would cause absolute political disaster if revealed.”
He raised a second.
“Two: someone commanded the Dementors specifically. Directed them. Controlled them.”
Harry’s voice became very soft.
“A Death Eater.”
Ted didn’t deny it.
Neville swallowed. “So… so the Ministry might be covering something up?”
Harry answered before Ted could.
“They are covering something up. They’re trying to bury the Voldermort fiasco under Hermione’s trial. Using her as a distraction.”
Ted closed his notebook with a decisive snap.
“I’ll make an inquiry,” he said. “Quietly. Discreetly. I’ll check Muggle hospitals for coma cases reported on the same night.”
He hesitated.
“If even one person suffered a Dementor attack… your trial becomes irrelevant. The Ministry will be forced onto the defensive.”
Harry leaned back slowly, shadows curling behind him like obedient serpents.
“Hermione, your trial won’t be easy. They’ll fight dirty.”
He looked at Harry.
“And Harry will terrify them just by entering the courtroom.”
Harry didn’t smile.
“And if they dare to push this too far…”
His voice was a promise of destruction.
“They’ll regret it.”
Neville exhaled.
Hermione closed her eyes.
Ted Tonks packed his briefcase.
Harry, Hermione, and Ted Tonks Apparated directly in front of the Granger household.
The moment their feet hit the pavement, Harry felt it — the faint snapping ripple of detection wards. Someone felt their arrival.
Ted exhaled sharply. “They’ve put trackers on your house. Subtle ones.”
Harry’s jaw tightened. “They’re expecting Hermione to return.”
They didn’t wait long.
CRACK.
CRACK.
Two Aurors materialized at the end of the street, cloaks billowing, wands already raised.
One of them barked, “Hermione Granger! You are to come with us immediately—”
“Absolutely not,” Ted snapped, stepping forward with authority that stopped both Aurors mid-motion. “You have no right to take my client.”
“She cast an illegal spell,” the taller Auror insisted. “We have orders to—”
Ted pulled out a thick packet of parchment from his briefcase with theatrical precision.
“This,” he said sharply, “is the completed legal paperwork acknowledging her trial date one week from now.”
He shoved it into their hands.
“This is an underage magic hearing, not a criminal charge. She is not to be detained. She is not to be held. She is not to be marched anywhere before the Wizengamot session.”
The Aurors turned pale — they knew the rules.
But fear and obedience clashed in their eyes.
“We—we have orders from the Ministry,” one stammered.
Ted’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“And I represent the law,” he said. “If you forcibly detain a minor before trial, I will drag this case through the International Confederation of Wizards. Do you understand me?”
Harry stepped to Hermione’s side.
Lightning flickered across his fingertips — small, black-tinged sparks that crackled in the air like venom waiting to strike. His eyes burned with a cold, unnatural glow.
The Aurors noticed.
They froze.
Right now, the “Boy Who Lived” looked ready to tear the street apart.
The shorter Auror swallowed hard. “We… we don’t want trouble.”
“Then leave,” Harry said softly.
The tone wasn’t loud.
Wasn’t angry.
Just final.
The Aurors backed away, too fast to be dignified.
CRACK.
CRACK.
They vanished.
Ted lowered his wand arm and exhaled. “They’re desperate. If they’re trying to grab her before the hearing… this means the Ministry wants her convicted badly.”
Harry nodded once. “And they’re afraid.”
Ted, holding his briefcase tightly, spoke briskly. “Now. Let’s see if Neville’s suspicion holds.”
He walked toward the nearest house and knocked.
A middle-aged woman answered. She looked tired, pale, and confused.
Ted asked gently:
“Did anything strange happen here two nights ago? Anyone collapse? Anyone suddenly fall ill?”
The woman frowned. “Well… my husband did faint in the garden. We thought it was heatstroke. He just… fell down. And his face was—”
She shuddered. “Frozen. Terrified.”
Ted exchanged a sharp glance with Harry.
“Was he taken to hospital?” Ted asked.
“Yes, but they can’t find what’s wrong.” The woman’s voice trembled. “But he recovering fast.”
Hermione covered her mouth.
Ted bowed. “Thank you. We hope he recovers soon.”
They moved to the next house.
A young man answered.
His hands shook as he spoke.
“My wife collapsed in the hallway that night. She’s in a coma. The doctors don’t know why.”
Ted’s knuckles whitened around his briefcase.
Two houses down — another victim.
Three streets over — two more.
Harry felt a chill crawl down his spine.
Hermione whispered, horrified, “So Neville was right…”
Ted nodded grimly. “This was a Dementor attack.”
Harry’s face darkened.
“This wasn’t an accident,” he said. “Someone sent them.”
“And someone,” Ted said slowly, “wanted to kill Hermoine.”
Ted inhaled sharply, piecing together the truth.
Hermione whispered, “And they were willing to let Muggles die… just to get to me?”
No one answered.
They didn’t have to.
Ted snapped his briefcase shut.
“We have our angle for the trial,” he said. “And it’s strong.”
Harry’s eyes glowed faintly.
“And if the Wizengamot tries to bury this,” he murmured, “I’ll bury them.”
Comments
Just_A_Viewer
I like to see the fallout of the Ministry and Harry's triumph in the next chapter.
