Chapter 1: The Accusation

Courtroom Ten's large, dark wooden doors creaked open, echoing ominously through the cavernous stone chamber. Harry Potter stepped inside, his heart pounding in his chest. He had faced many dangers in his young life, but nothing had prepared him for this: standing trial for the illegal use of underage magic which he had done to fight off dementors.

The courtroom benches were lined with ancient, grim-faced witches and wizards, their eyes boring into Harry with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. High above them all, perched on an elevated chair, sat Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, surrounded by a panel of stern-looking officials. The Wizengamot, resplendent in plum-colored robes, stared down at Harry with barely concealed contempt.

"Harry James Potter," Fudge began, his voice booming through the chamber, "you stand accused of using a Patronus Charm in the presence of a Muggle, in direct violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. How do you plead?"

Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. His eyes scanned the crowd, but Professor Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. His absence was a cold weight in Harry's stomach. However, Harry's mind was focused. He straightened his shoulders and faced the Minister.

"Not guilty," he declared, his voice steady and clear, knowing exactly what to say and do to provoke the reaction he desired.

Murmurs rippled through the courtroom. Fudge raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by Harry's confidence.

"Very well," Fudge said, regaining his composure. "Let the trial commence."

The next few hours were a blur of accusations and counterarguments. The prosecution, led by the formidable Madam Bones, detailed the events of that fateful night in Little Whinging. Harry recounted the attack by the Dementors, the desperation that had forced him to cast the Patronus Charm to save himself and his cousin, Dudley. He could see the skepticism in the eyes of the Wizengamot, but he also saw flashes of sympathy.

Without anyone to defend him, Harry felt more vulnerable than ever. But this vulnerability was part of his plan. Every word he spoke was carefully chosen to ensure the Wizengamot saw him as a reckless, uncontrollable young wizard.

Finally, Fudge called for a recess, and the Wizengamot withdrew to deliberate. Harry sat alone in the emptying courtroom, feeling the weight of his life on his shoulders. When they returned, the expressions on their faces told him everything he needed to know.

"Harry James Potter," Fudge intoned, "this court decides that you be expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, effective immediately. Furthermore, your wand will be confiscated, and you will be barred from practicing magic."

The words struck Harry like a physical blow. He stood there, stunned, but inside, he was smiling. His plan had worked. Being expelled and barred from practicing magic was the perfect cover for his true motive.

As the court adjourned and the spectators filed out, Harry was left standing in the empty chamber, his future uncertain and his heart heavy with despair. Outwardly, he played the part of a broken boy. But inside, he felt a grim satisfaction. This was the first step in his true mission, one that required him to operate outside the confines of Hogwarts and the Ministry's watchful eye.

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Several weeks earlier, in the uncozy confines of the black townhouse Grimmauld Palace, Harry sat with Hermione Granger and Fleur Delacour, deep in discussion.

"But what about Hogwarts, Harry?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed with concern. "If you're expelled, you won't be able to finish your OWL and NEWTS."

Harry leaned forward; his eyes intense. "That's exactly the point, Hermione. If they expel me, it means I can still attend magical schools abroad. I can learn magic anywhere in the world. And most importantly, I won't be under the Ministry's or anyone's thumb or prison."

Fleur nodded thoughtfully, her silvery hair catching the light from the fire. "It makes sense, 'Arry. As 'Arry Potter, you 'ave opportunities zat many wizards would envy. You could study at Beauxbatons or even Durmstrang if you wish."

Harry grinned, a touch of mischief in his eyes. "Exactly. And it's not like I can't use magic at all. Just not here in Britain. It's a risk, but it might be the best chance I have to prepare for what's coming."

Hermione sighed, though she understood Harry's reasoning. "Just promise me you'll be careful, Harry. This plan of yours—it's risky."

"I will," Harry assured her, his tone serious. "I've thought about this a lot. It's the only way I can live as Just Harry, not the Boy who lived."

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Harry left the courtroom, his face a mask of sorrow. But beneath the façade, a fire burned. He was free from the restrictions of the magical world, free to pursue his goals without interference. And he would use this freedom to achieve what he had planned all along.

After the trial, instead of returning to Grimmauld Place, Harry slipped away unnoticed. Using his invisibility cloak, he made his way to the Leaky Cauldron, careful to avoid members of the Order of the Phoenix who might be looking for him.

Inside the bustling pub, Harry found a secluded corner and sat down, his mind racing. He had expected repercussions from the Ministry, and soon they would come, he needed to act quickly. His priority was to avoid detection by the Order. He couldn't risk them interfering with his life.

As he sat there, lost in thought, a familiar voice spoke from beside him. "Harry Potter?"

Harry looked up to see the barkeeper, Tom, eyeing him curiously. "Yes?"

Tom leaned in closer, his voice low. "You're in a bit of trouble, aren't you? I've seen the news. If you need a place to lay low for a while, you're always welcome here."

Harry nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Tom. I appreciate it."

With a nod, Tom moved away, leaving Harry to contemplate his next move. He couldn't stay at the Leaky Cauldron indefinitely, but for now, it was a haven. He needed to figure out his next steps carefully, away from prying eyes. As he pondered his next move, he spotted Hermione entering the pub, her expression tense and worried.

"Hermione," Harry called out quietly, drawing her attention.

Startled, Hermione hurried over to his table. "Harry! I heard what happened. Are you alright?"

Harry nodded, gesturing for her to sit down. "I'm fine. Just trying to figure out what to do next."

Hermione took a seat opposite him, her eyes scanning the pub cautiously. "It's not safe for you here, Harry. The Ministry, death-eaters, and the Order—they'll be looking for you."

"I know," Harry admitted. "That's why I can't stay in Britain. But what about you, Hermione? What are you going to do?"

Hermione sighed, her fingers nervously twisting a strand of her hair. "I... I'm worried about my parents. With Voldemort back, it's not safe for them, either. They're Muggles, Harry. They don't understand any of this."

Harry's expression softened with concern. "We have to keep them safe, Hermione. Maybe we should find a way to get them out of the country, somewhere far away from all of this."

Hermione nodded slowly, her mind racing with possibilities. "Yes, that might be the best option. But how do we do that without drawing attention?"

"We'll figure it out," Harry said with determination. "Together."

Just then, the door to the Leaky Cauldron swung open, and Harry caught a glimpse of Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt entering the pub, and scanning the pub. Harry quickly pulled his invisibility cloak tighter around him, hoping they hadn't spotted him.

"We need to go," Harry whispered urgently to Hermione. "Now."

Hermione nodded, her eyes wide with fear. Together, they slipped out of the Leaky Cauldron, disappearing into the crowded streets of Diagon Alley, leaving behind the danger of the pub.

Harry and Hermione hurried through the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, their hearts racing with adrenaline. They ducked into a secluded alleyway, away from the prying eyes of the Order members searching for Harry. Leaning against the cold stone wall, they caught their breath, their gazes meeting in the dim light filtering through from the main street.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, her voice barely audible over the noise of the city. "We can't keep running like this."

Harry nodded, his hand reaching out to gently touch Hermione's arm. "I know. But we have to keep each other safe. And your parents—"

Hermione placed a finger on Harry's lips, silencing him. "I'm not just worried about my parents, Harry. I'm worried about you too. You're facing so much, and you shouldn't have to face it alone."

Harry's heart swelled with emotion as he looked into Hermione's eyes, seeing the concern and determination reflected there. Slowly, he lowered his hand near her arm, gently taking her hand in his.

"Hermione," Harry began softly, his voice filled with sincerity, "I've always known I could count on you. You've been there for me through everything. And now, more than ever, I need you by my side."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat, her fingers intertwining with Harry's. "Harry, I... I feel the same way. I felt the same way since you saved me from the troll. I don't want to imagine facing any of this without you."

At that moment, the weight of their shared history and unspoken feelings hung heavy in the air between them. With a tenderness born of trust and companionship, Harry leaned closer, his lips brushing against Hermione's in a gentle kiss. It was a promise—a promise that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

As they pulled back slightly, their foreheads touching, Harry whispered, "We'll find a way, Hermione. We'll protect your parents, we'll face Voldemort, and we'll do it together."

Hermione nodded, her eyes shining with determination and a newfound sense of closeness. "Together," she echoed softly, her voice filled with conviction.

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