Hmmm—

An invisible wave surged out with Bryan’s thunderous shout.

The Dementors caught directly in its path froze instantly, their gliding advance halted mid-motion as though time itself had stopped. They hung suspended in the cold air like flies trapped in amber.

Rolling thunder pealed and echoed without end, bouncing off the stone walls, reverberating through the floor beneath everyone’s feet.

“This—this is impossible—”

The sight of Bryan Watson standing unmoved against the full force of Azkaban’s Dementors—standing without a wand, without any visible means of defense, and yet somehow commanding them sent every drop of blood fleeing from Fudge’s face. His soul seemed to abandon his body, leaving behind only a hollow shell trembling with terror.

‘How could this be happening? How?!’

The thought screamed through Fudge’s mind on an endless loop, panic was eroding his capacity for rational thought.

To constrain both Watson and Dumbledore—Dolores had suggested that all wands be confiscated before the proceedings began. And Fudge had agreed. He’d seen the logic: without their wands, even wizards of Watson’s or Dumbledore’s caliber couldn’t hope to resist a fully-armed force of Aurors.

As an extra precaution, Dolores had also proposed summoning Dementors from Azkaban.

The move would inevitably invite controversy and criticism. Questions would be raised about bringing such creatures into the heart of the Ministry itself. But for the sake of his own personal safety, for the guarantee of absolute control, he had approved it nonetheless.

And yet—this?!

This impossibility unfolding in front of his eyes?!

How could anyone silence Dementors with nothing but a shout? And with no wand? Watson wasn’t even a senior Ministry official with any authority over the creatures—Why would the Dementors obey him?

Umbridge stood utterly frozen several feet away staring with bulging, unblinking eyes as the Dementors from Azkaban slowly, almost reluctantly, began to retreat back into the darkness above.

Around her, she could feel the temperature rising degree by degree, the unnatural cold was dissipating. Color was bleeding back into the world.

Then Umbridge jolted violently, her entire body was spasming as though struck by lightning. A deep flush crept across her pale cheeks, spreading to her neck and ears. She looked as though she had drunk herself into a stupor, or as though fever had seized her mind.

“It was you!” she shrieked. “It was you who attacked Azkaban—you who helped the prisoners escape!”

She shoved violently past the wizard standing in front of her and pointed a shaking finger at Bryan screaming like a madwoman.

“You’re the one who stole the contract from the Keeper of Secrets in the Department of Mysteries—that’s why the Dementors obey you!”

‘The contract from the Keeper of Secrets?’

A united intake of breath swept through the Wizengamot. This was information classified at the highest levels of the Ministry—knowledge restricted to perhaps a dozen people in all of Britain. Most of the jury members had never even heard whispers of such a thing.

The members of the Wizengamot panel exchanged bewildered, uncertain glances, their faces showing confusion mixed with growing alarm.

But Fudge’s spirits surged despite everything, grasping at this explanation like a drowning man clutching debris.

‘That’s right—of course! It has to be Watson!’

The pieces fell into place in his mind.

‘The contract that controls the Dementors is in Watson’s hands now. That’s the only possible explanation. How else could he command them?!’

“Arrest him, Cornelius!” Umbridge screamed, her voice reaching a fever pitch of hysteria. “Tell the entire wizarding world—Watson is the one who seized Azkaban!”

“Dawlish—where are you, Dawlish?!”

Fudge joined the chorus at once, his own voice rising to a roar that echoed through the chamber.

“Bring your men and take Watson down—surround him—he’s the one who seized Azkaban! He’s behind the escape of every Death Eater!”

“I—I’m here, Minister!”

When the Dementors had been released and the temperature had plunged, Dawlish had abandoned all pretense of courage. He’d gone scrambling away on all fours like a frightened animal, seeking whatever shelter he could find.

Now, hearing his name called, hearing the panic in Fudge’s voice—he came tumbling back out from whichever corner he had wedged himself int.

He stumbled forward, waving his arms wildly to catch the Minister’s attention.

“Here, sir! I’m here!”

“Quickly—arrest Watson! All of you—surround him and take him into custody!”

Every Auror present in the courtroom today had been carefully hand-picked: wizards and witches loyal to the Ministry above all else, loyal to the Minister personally, willing to follow orders without question.

Over twenty of them, their wands already drawn and gripped tight in sweating hands, began to close in on Bryan from all sides like a net tightening around a dangerous beast.

One Auror who was younger than the others, perhaps eager to prove himself took the lead. He slashed his wand sharply through the air in a motion, his voice rang out with confidence.

“Incarcerous!”

Whoosh!

A thick rope emerged from the tip of his wand and shot out through the darkness, coiling and wriggling like a serpent as it dashed toward Bryan with speed.

Crack—

A cold fury kindled in Bryan’s eyes.

The rope disintegrated the instant it crossed within ten feet of him, as though it had plunged recklessly into an unseen world of limitless heat. The conjured fibers ignited and burned to ash in a fraction of a second.

The young Auror who had cast the spell stood frozen, his wand still extended, his face went pale.

“Ignorant.”

Bryan spoke with nothing but contempt in his voice. He fixed his gaze on Fudge and Umbridge, his voice edged with something that sounded terrifyingly close to killing intent.

‘Is this still the Wizengamot courtroom? Is this still a place where law holds meaning?’

A Wizengamot member cried out, her voice trembling with despair and disbelief.

“Albus…”

On one side stood a Minister and his Deputy who appeared to have lost their minds completely, issuing contradictory orders, making wild accusations, their fear became evident in every gesture.

On the other side stood Bryan Watson—cold, terrible, radiating power that made the air itself tremble. Caught between these two forces, every wizard in the chamber felt the shadow of catastrophe plunging down upon them like an avalanche.

They scrambled over one another in their panic, their careful dignity forgotten, pinning all their remaining hope on the one man in the room who might still possess the power and authority to stop this nightmare from escalating further.

“Albus, please—”

Multiple voices called out his name, pleading.

“Order your men to stand down immediately, Cornelius!”

Dumbledore’s voice cut through the chaos. His pale blue eyes blazed with an intensity that rivaled the sun itself.

The entire courtroom was suddenly enveloped by the overwhelming magical pressure radiating from within that ancient body—power accumulated over more than a century of life, power that most wizards would never approach in a dozen lifetimes.

The very air trembled and shook as though caught in a violent, storm-tossed sea. Loose parchments on the Wizengamot benches began to flutter and dance. Torches flickered and flared.

“This has gone far enough! Stand down before someone dies!”

“Seize him—seize Watson now!” Dolores shrieked, relentless in her panic, utterly deaf to reason or warning. “He is the one behind all of this—the Azkaban attack, the escape of the Death Eaters, everything! Arrest him!”

CRACK!

Thunder split the air with the sound of the world itself tearing.

Dumbledore’s expression darkened like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. He turned sharply toward Bryan, whose magical aura had transformed, sharpened to the edge of a sword freshly drawn from its scabbard.

Dumbledore’s voice rang out like a great bell, shaking the very walls of the chamber.

“Whatever the case, Bryan—there is no need to kill anyone!”

BOOM! CLANG!

Before Bryan could reply, before anyone could react to Dumbledore’s words, an explosion erupted from the direction of the entrance with the force of a cannon blast.

Harry’s head turned around just in time to watch a massive dark shape fly through the corridor like a cannonball, tumbling end over end before it buried itself deep into the solid stone wall on the opposite side of the chamber.

‘The iron door of the courtroom.’

Harry’s entire body jolted in his chair. His green eyes went wide with disbelief.

‘Who—who had just blasted open the courtroom doors?’

The answer came immediately, emerging through the rolling clouds of dust and debris.

It was Rufus Scrimgeour—Head of the Auror Office, a man renowned throughout the entire wizarding world for his firm resolve and unwavering sense of duty. Behind him marched a second unit of Aurors.

Fudge’s face lit up at the sight like a man seeing salvation arrive, as though he had seized upon the very last lifeline left to him in a drowning sea.

“Rufus—thank heavens it’s you! Thank Merlin!” Fudge’s voice cracked with relief and desperate hope. “Arrest Watson immediately—he’s the one who freed the Death Eaters from Azkaban! He’s the real culprit behind everything!”

“Arrest Watson, Rufus!” Dolores shoved Amelia to the ground; her face contorted with desperation. “Arrest Watson right now, and the position of Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is yours!”

Upon hearing this stunning declaration, Dawlish froze mid-step, his mouth falling open. Then his expression crumpled with indignation.

‘Bryan Watson had seized Azkaban and whoever arrested him would become Head of Magical Law Enforcement?!’

Even Scrimgeour who had already steeled himself mentally to walk into some degree of chaos and confrontation was stunned into momentary silence by the brazen corruption of the offer. His face registered shock, followed quickly by disgust.

But he recovered quickly and casted a look of contempt at the Ministry’s two highest-ranking officials before setting off at a surprisingly rapid pace despite his unsteady legs.

“Bryan.”

Under Fudge’s and Dolores’s stunned, utterly incredulous stares—Scrimgeour crossed swiftly to Bryan’s side. He reached into his Auror robes and produced a wand.

“This is yours—confiscated before the trial. I’ve brought it back.”

In that frozen, seemingly endless second—every eye in the courtroom was fixed on the same point: the center of the chamber, where Bryan Watson stood calm and distant and utterly unmoved before three young accused students.

‘When…? When had Bryan secured the loyalty of so many senior Ministry officials?’

Every person in the room was silently asking the same questions. This included Amelia Bones, still sprawled on the cold floor where Dolores had shoved her. This included Dumbledore himself whose eyes narrowed slightly as he observed this unexpected development.

Rustle—

As Bryan slowly raised his hand and lifted his ebony wand from Rufus Scrimgeour’s palm, every heart in the room clenched.

Dumbledore’s lips pressed together into a thin line. Rare tension crossed his aged face.

“Bryan!”

Dumbledore looked at Bryan, and Bryan looked back at him, their gazes meeting in mid-air.

A sense of urgency filled the air. A fateful choice hung in the balance, teetering on a knife’s edge. Everyone waited to see what Bryan would decide.

One wizard possessed a wand. The other did not.

Dumbledore’s blood surged through his old body with an intensity he hadn’t felt in decades. His eyes blazed as he stared intently at Bryan.

If Bryan went berserk, Dumbledore wasn’t entirely certain he could stop him now. Not unless he risked his very life in the attempt.

BOOM!

Another explosion shattered the tense silence. The sound of a collapsing wall was followed immediately by urgent, frantic shouts that came into the ears of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who had been staring in a daze, barely able to process the rapid sequence of shocking events.

“Harry—are you all right, Harry?! Answer me!”

It was Sirius’s voice sounding raw with fear and desperation.

“Ron, what’s happening in there—how did the trial go… Merlin’s beard, I saw Scrimgeour lead people charging down here!”

Mr. Weasley’s voice filled with confusion and alarm resounded.

“Bryan! Bryan, what’s—”

Remus’s voice, cut short as he took in the scene.

It was their another group that came bursting through the rolling smoke and swirling dust.

Sirius. Remus. Mr. Weasley. Kingsley. Amelia…

‘It was the Order of the Phoenix.’

The courtroom seemed to have been caught inside a pocket of stillness—a bubble of suspended time where everyone moved in slow motion.

Every person who came rushing through the shattered doorway went rigid the moment they crossed the threshold and took in the scene before them. They could sense the atmosphere immediately—drawn tense as a bowstring stretched to the point of snapping.

Their expressions froze mid walks. Their voices died in their throats. Several people took automatic steps back as their instincts were screaming at them that they’d walked into something far more dangerous.

Bryan could feel the weight of many eyes upon him now.

Worry from those who cared about him. Fear from those who understood what he was capable of. Respect from those who recognized his power. Hatred from those he’d opposed.

Gazes overloaded with every one of these emotions touched on him, watching, waiting—as though the entire world were holding its breath for fate itself to deliver its verdict.

Bryan’s gaze slowly returned to Dumbledore.

The two locked eyes across the chamber.

“Don’t let yourself make this mistake, Bryan.”

Bryan listened to Dumbledore’s hoarse voice. He was silent.

“P-Professor… Watson…”

A voice called out to him in the stillness of the courtroom. He turned his head, one brow lifting slightly.

The three young students who had been swept up in all of this stared at him with faces drained completely chalk-white. They were trembling constantly beneath the cold pressure radiating off him.

Everyone saw his eyes shift to the three children.

Then—

Whoosh!

A blaze of dazzling golden flame erupted from the tip of Bryan’s wand, so bright and sudden that it seared every pair of eyes in the room.

Bryan brought his wand down in a single, decisive motion.

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