The Wizengamot...
"Are you nervous?" Dumbledore and Kayson sat in a separate room when Dumbledore asked.
"Not nervous... You don't doubt your own connections, do you?" Kayson asked in return.
"Of course not. I simply think that under normal circumstances, even if someone knew they were guaranteed to win, they should still feel a little nervous," Dumbledore explained.
"The facts proved I wasn't a normal person."
Soon, a Ministry of Magic employee knocked on the door. The two followed him out and arrived at the center of the Wizengamot.
As he left, he discreetly gave Kayson a thumbs-up.
Soon, the members of the Wizengamot all filed in. A small number were Kayson's acquaintances, while most were Dumbledore's.
Hogwarts' king of connections, indeed.
"Are you sure you took care of everything? Who did you ask?" Kayson still could not help asking Dumbledore. Not being nervous was one thing, but if Dumbledore proved unreliable, or the Wizengamot tribunal pulled some stunt and ruled against him, was he supposed to just flee?
Though that was impossible.
But soon, he spotted an all-too-familiar figure among the Wizengamot seats.
Kayson only knew that his name was Lester—the man he had first encountered in the wizarding world, when he demonstrated the physical version of Obliviate on him with an anvil.
Kayson instantly felt as sick as if he had swallowed a fly. What was one of the unluckiest things in life?
This was one of them: having an old enemy as one of the jurors during your trial.
Though one person alone was not enough to make the Wizengamot decide to get rid of him...
"What a damn idea," Kayson sighed helplessly.
Soon, all the Wizengamot members and the plaintiff, Fudge, were in place. An elegant witch seated on a separate raised platform gave a soft