Chaos at the Ministry of Magic

"No, no, I told you I'm a half-blood, I'm a half-blood.

My father was a wizard, he was! Go and check, Arkie Alderton, he's a famous flying broomstick designer, go and check!

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

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

This was his first time seeing something like this. The Ministry of Magic handled matters with remarkable inefficiency, though that was naturally because there was comparatively little for it to manage.

Inefficiency had its benefits too. It made emotional shifts especially clear. For some reason, that pain and despair let him feel the reality of the world.

How ironic.

He hid in the shadows, watching Hermione—who was now Mafalda.

She had already settled into her role. Though she seemed to have noticed the locket around Umbridge's neck, she was still diligently doing her work.

Work at the Ministry of Magic seemed to come naturally to her. It was hard to say whether that was talent or something else.

But Umbridge's voice was as unpleasant as ever.

With that thought, he fell silent again. After all, he was not today's protagonist.

"This is your final warning,"

Umbridge said in a soft, sweet voice, magically amplified so that it clearly drowned out the man's desperate cries.

"If you resist again, you will receive the Dementor's Kiss."

The man's cries faded, but his sobs still echoed through the corridor.

"Take him away."

Two Dementors appeared at the courtroom entrance, their rotting, scabbed hands gripping the upper arms of a male witch who appeared to have fainted.

The Dementors dragged him away down the corridor, and the darkness behind them swallowed him whole.

"Next—Mary Cattermole."

Umbridge called out.

A small, thin woman stood up, trembling all