The Star Academy Transgressor
Cornelius Fudge raised his wand, anger clear on his purpling face, and a sound as loud as ten gavels striking at once echoed throughout the large amphitheater. He looked directly at Hazel as he spoke.
"I will have order during these proceedings! Ms. McGonagall, you will address me and only me! Now. Since you will be representing yourself…"
"Forgive me, Minister Fudge, but is the prisoner not a Potter? Should she not be using a name associated with greatness?" Umbridge's voice was syrupy sweet, but the poison within it was crystal clear.
Fudge frowned. "That is undisputed, Madame Umbridge. She is a McGonagall. Now, as the charges stand, young witch:
1. You were found to be covered in dimensional residue.
2. Your signature was found on magical residue left in the area of Number 12, Grimmauld Place.
3. You have been traced to an illegal item now being called the Golden Monocle.
4. You have created magical processes and potions without the proper permits."
Fudge straightened his glasses and looked at her again, the paper before him folding up and disappearing. "Now. Did you, or did you not, have dimensional residue at the security checkpoint?"
Hazel took a calming breath. "Might I ask the Wizengamot to please check the requests for dimensional travel and for the transference of witch or wizard learning in the year 1982? Both were filed for me by my parents in September of that year. Also, I have active travel permits as a traveler-in-training, and my transference papers are all up to date. The Ministry of Magic is fully aware of my dimensional travel and has authorized all of it."
Murmurs rose throughout the courtroom as sparks and papers flew; the Wizengamot began checking the filings from 1983 to the present. The sparks slowed, and there was silence. Umbridge had an odd frown on her face.
"Moving on to point number two," Fudge muttered, glancing at a fresh parchment.
"I think we should continue addressing this," Umbridge interrupted. "Montague McGonagall is the one who filed these because he works in other dimensions. It is only because of him any of these were granted."
"I disagree, Madame Umbridge," a voice from the benches countered. "They were approved; that is all that matters. She cannot be held in breach when she clearly had permission to travel the dimensions. And it was only residue at the most minute levels. We all saw the readings."
The smell of syrupy honey-rot spread from the Wizengamot, and Hazel fought to hold her composure as she pushed thoughts of her father from her mind. Fudge nodded shortly.
"Prisoner, do you deny performing magic at Number 12, Grimmauld Place?"
"I do."
Voices rose at the proclamation. Fudge raised his wand, and the gavel-strike echoed through the space again. He looked at Hazel, a deep scowl on his face. "Just because you attend school in a different dimension does not mean we do not have your magical signature."
"I am aware of that. I have to use my wand at every renewal. But the esteemed Ministry of Magic and other wizarding policing agencies here in the first dimension do not classify dream-walking as magic. It is classified as a 'state of being' here. I merely dream-walked at Grimmauld Place. Nothing more."
For a brief moment, there was silence, and then the room exploded. Sara Sing hid her smile. Dumbledore smiled outwardly—Hazel understood her birth dimension better than he had thought.
Dolores Umbridge sat forward in her seat. "You can dream-walk?! There has not been a dream-walker in centuries!" Her sweet voice was reaching a fevered pitch.
Hazel merely blinked at Cornelius Fudge, looking only at him when she answered. "My Divination teacher is here if you would like her to verify. I can also dream-walk for you, but since you do not see it as magic, you may not understand what you are seeing."
Umbridge sputtered, unable to refute Hazel's words, and fell back into her seat. There were smiles on many of the faces in the courtroom.
"Can you prove that you can dream-walk?" Fudge asked.
Hazel nodded. "Yes, sir. I can."
"Show us, then!" another member of the Wizengamot shouted in a flurry. "We have records. We will know actual walking as opposed to just being in a trance."
Professor Sing hid a scoff within a small fit of coughing, masking her smile behind her hand. No wonder En had lost its powerful connection to Divination. They were about to be truly surprised.
Hazel did not wait, she did not relax her body, and she did not relax her mind. She simply closed her eyes and stepped forward. She allowed her spirit body to illuminate as it stepped from her physical body. None of the En witches and wizards felt the power radiating from her. To them, it was like a sensation of cold moving from Hazel—they could not even see the mists because their minds had closed to such truths a long time ago. They nodded their heads, understanding from their studies that this was the sign of the spirit moving forward. The chill moved through the room and entered their bones.
Professor Sing smiled—watching the witches and wizards of the First Dimension shiver as if cold was actually manifesting. To her, Hazel was like a wild torrent of power, and she knew this was just the beginning of the demonstration. The ceiling of the courtroom trembled, and clouds rolled over it from the corners. Then, a vision of Hazel walking across a plane of clouds and moving color opened up at the center of the ceiling.
Professor Sing smiled as she watched. Hazel was only showing a rudimentary form of the Dreamscape, as if she were merely showing them the parts they could handle or that they would accept.
Hazel walked across the plane and moved her hand. Professor Sing saw the rune clearly, and her eyes went wide as she looked to the Ministry wizards. None of them seemed to notice. Dumbledore leaned in and whispered into her ear. "Was that a dream incantation?"
"It was a rune."
He nodded. "What does it mean?"
"Hazel is calling specific fate lines to rise."
Dumbledore nodded again, this time with a smile. "This will be interesting."
Many of the wizards in the courtroom began to shift uncomfortably as they began to see the mundane manifest in the scene above. Umbridge's quill stopped mid-stroke as a fluffy pink cardigan appeared, twirling in the wind. Brown and golden-yellow lines began marring the fabric until it seemed to rot in glistening stickiness and fell through the clouds. Umbridge felt a pulling in her abdomen, and she nervously looked around the courtroom.
Fudge grabbed his robes when he saw them around a skeleton with his bowler hat atop its head. He sputtered. "That! That! That is enough! That is enough."
He averted his eyes as she passed more and more items.
"Do you need more examples of this ability?" Hazel's body spoke, and the sound was ethereal and moved around them like many ghosts were moving through the courtroom.
None of it triggered the chains of blue light or her shackles—proving it was not deemed as magic here in En.
Hazel moved back to her body and waited for Cornelius Fudge to bring forth the third charge.