Harry Potter and the Hall of Justice

Chapter 6 The Nominee


Professor Albus Dumbledore rose from the headmaster’s table in the Great Hall; the sorting and welcoming feast were over, another school year had officially begun. He discreetly motioned Professor McGonagall to follow him out into the hallway. The students and their respective prefects were exiting the hall while most professors remained at their tables, discussing school matters or enjoying a few humorous tales.

“Minerva, I must now depart. I do not know how long I will be,” the old headmaster explained. “As soon as I return, though, we can, if things go well, begin our deliberations.”

“I trust all will go well, Professor,” she earnestly said. “I will be ready at whatever hour you return.”

“Very well, until then,” Professor Dumbledore said and turned to walk back to his office.

“Yes,” he thought, as he hurried along, “I too hope and trust things will go well.”

Without hesitation, after he returned to his office, Dumbledore placed his hand upon a crystal ball that sat on the left side of his desk. He closed his eyes and clearly and quickly said, “Justice Hall”. In a flash of emerald-green light, he was whisked away to the Hall of Justice and, in an instant, stood under the Great Seal of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which was affixed within a brick arch along the long curving wall of a huge anteroom. The arch was one of many, each a school of magic, except for a large white arch in the middle of the long wall that had the Great Seal of the Ministry of Magic affixed to it. The first thing one noticed was the much cooler temperature within the hall. It had always been thus, Professor Dumbledore thought, as he made his way directly to the large wooden doors that opened into the High Courtroom.

A young security officer dressed in a deep blue uniform and cloak opened one of the huge doors and, without speaking, led him down the length of the courtroom where they climbed four steps up to the large marble floor that was the sizeable dais upon which set the justice’s bench. The officer opened the door behind the bench, holding it for the professor to enter.

The old wizard stepped inside the Justice’s Chamber and saw, for the first time in person, the nominee sitting in a chair, guarded by four Hall of Justice Security Officers. The man had turned his head at the sound of the door opening and jerked with a start when he saw Dumbledore walk in, dressed as he was. The large man looked anything but frightened by his predicament, Dumbledore thought. In fact, one would say he looked rather pissed off or at least one-step above the level of extremely angry. Dumbledore looked around and nodded at the officers to leave the room. As the last one exited and closed the door, the professor walked around and sat in the chair behind the Justice’s desk.

“I’m extremely sorry and apologize for the great anxiety we’ve caused you this evening. If you will bear with me, I will explain why these steps were necessary. I assure you, Mr. Webster, what you have gone through these last few hours was solely for your protection and certainly not caused by any fault of your own,” Dumbledore explained, noticing the man’s temper ratcheting down a level. As the old headmaster waited, it appeared the man consciously willed himself to relax a bit in his chair.

“What in the heck am I doing here? Did you poison or dope me? The morons running around in those blue vampire outfits wouldn’t say a word to me! You better start explaining yourself pretty fast, mister, or I’m fixin’ to kick some butt!” the agitated man said, shifting his weight forward to his feet as if about to rise from his chair.

“Please, please, Mr. Webster,” Dumbledore said, motioning him to remain calm and seated with his raised hands. “If you would please give me a chance to explain, I will endeavor to do my very best, in the shortest time possible, to allay your apprehensions. I truthfully believe you will want to hear and understand fully what I am about to tell you. I beg your indulgence. Please.”

Webster slid back into the chair and appeared, by the smallest of visible degrees, to relax a little but his angry eyes remained focused on the old professor’s face. Dumbledore knew the man had already begun assessing his character, truthfulness, level of anxiety, confidence and other traits the moment he entered the room. His piercing eyes would note subtle mannerisms and unconscious attributes far beyond the range of perception of any wizard or other muggle. Webster had had years of experience interviewing and interrogating thousands of people from all walks of life. The old professor wondered if his being a wizard would interfere with Webster’s initial assessment of himself. He could not help but smile slightly at the thought.

Webster watched the old man reach forward for a thick folder on the desk, which he proceeded to open. He picked up the first page of the file while adjusting the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He had already marked the old man as an eccentric and mighty strange dresser but at first sight, found himself liking his calm, self-assured manner. “There’s a lot to this old guy,” he thought. “I reckon he’s a great deal tougher than he looks but he’s still one strange sucker. I’m not about to ever tell anyone how to dress, either, but somebody needs to tell these folks it ain’t Halloween. Maybe they’ve got a costume party going on next door.”

Dumbledore began reading, barely above a whisper, the over-page of the dossier. Although he knew the file by heart, he wished to register Webster’s reaction to the reading of a little of the text. “Daniel Milton Webster, a native of Texas, was the only child of George Murphy Webster and Thelma Louise Harkins. He dropped out of college in south Texas to work on a west Texas cattle ranch before taking the oath to become a United States Border Patrol Agent. Graduated at the top of his class. Over the years his career path took him to four different duty stations and five different positions within the Department of Justice’s Immigration Service. Half of those years of service was as a supervisory agent but, for unknown reasons or circumstances, he chose to spend the last four years of his career as a Special Agent with the Criminal Investigations Division, locating, arresting and processing criminal aliens. He took early retirement from government service at fifty years of age. Above average intelligence; excellent psychological profile; fair but firm; outstanding work discipline; unmarried; no family ties; virtually no debt; no known bad habits, other than chewing tobacco and occasional smoking; many hobbies and talents. A brief but accurate accounting, Mr. Webster?” Dumbledore asked, lifting his head to peer at the man through the half-moon lenses of his glasses.

“Why does my life history mean anything to you? I have nothing to hide and few things I’d admit to being ashamed of.” Webster said, still displaying anger but with a noticeable trace of curiosity.

The old wizard whimsically thought of the sport of fishing, a near habitual diversion in much of the non-magical world. Yes, indeed. He had to select the right bait and have patience. That’s what he had always heard was the secret of the sport. If the little fishy didn’t like one bait, well, he reasoned, he’d just have to change bait. In a nutshell, that was exactly what he was now doing, trying to tempt this little fish to bite his hook. Again the old professor smiled to himself. If the fish would take a nibble at his hook, he’d set the hook and land him. Of that, the old man was certain. He was just as certain, though, that it wouldn’t do to patronize this man. He would have to be careful not to go too far, too quickly.

“Actually, Mr. Webster,” Dumbledore raised his eyes, looking directly into the face of the man across the desk, “I am quite impressed. So much so, in fact, I have brought you here to offer you a very unique position and opportunity. But maybe position isn’t the right word,” he paused, as if searching his ancient mind for another term. Finally, he raised his eyebrows, both hands and grinned. “Well, position will have to do for now.”

“I don’t know what you people do around here or who you think you are, but I will not entertain any positions or anything else until I get some answers! I’m retired and not looking for gainful employment, at the present time anyway, thank you very much,” Webster’s anger began to ratchet back up a notch.

“Fair enough, Mr. Webster,” Dumbledore began again. “What I am obligated to relate to you will most likely be beyond comprehension and will, I expect, come as quite a shock.” Dumbledore rose and went to the door and whispered instructions to one of the officers standing just inside the courtroom. As he walked back towards the desk, he continued. “Forgive me, I was needing a spot of tea so I’ve ordered up a pot, if that’s alright with you?”

Webster nodded his assent. Dumbledore then motioned him to rise and follow him to one of room’s other doors, which he opened. Webster was utterly shocked as he stepped through the doorway and into the immense size of the area it hid. It was a huge library, at least three stories high with large stained windows along the full length and height of the distant wall. Only one other time in his life had he been in anything so immense, a domed football stadium. Although this was not quite as large, it was the next biggest single room he had ever physically experienced. Three open levels of heavy, wood bookshelves, he saw, filled with books of every conceivable size and color. More books then one person could ever count, it seemed. He was unable to tell the width of the massive room as the bookshelves on either side went clear to the ceiling. At least six hallways, on each of the three levels, on either side of the room, led behind the walls of books. The shelf-to-shelf width down the middle must have been eighty or a hundred feet, at least, he thought to himself.

As Dumbledore entered and closed the office door behind them, Webster turned to his right and noticed another large office with a huge desk in its center and with what appeared to be tables, cabinets, basins and much equipment, of types he had never seen before, attached to and along the inner walls of the room. Before he turned away, Webster noticed a brass plaque on the door with the words “Executive Assistant”. Directly above it was another brass plaque where normally a name would have been engraved, however, it was blank. There were many more offices visible down that side of the wall extending well back down the hall behind the shelves of books. He rightfully figured that such must have also been the case on the other levels above him.

“Mr. Webster, you must forgive me, I have just this second realized we have not been formally introduced. My name is Albus Dumbledore,” he said, reaching out an open hand to Webster. “I’m the Headmaster of Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I wish to welcome you to the world of magic, Mr. Webster.”

Webster was taken aback. He looked down at the old man’s hand, clearly did not want to take it, but shook it as an automatic matter of politeness. “What is this? Some kind of joke?” Webster asked, suddenly feeling queasy and a bit light-headed. “Who put you up to this?”

“I assure you, Mr. Webster, this is no joke,” said Dumbledore. “This is as real as anything real gets. I am a wizard, Mr. Webster. I was born a wizard and will die a wizard. Like many thousands of other wizards and witches, we live in a world of magic that is also a part of your world. Though, our physical existence remains quite invisible to non-magic folk, in the best of times. We share the world but choose to live apart as much as possible. Nevertheless, some magic folk do elect to live amongst non-magic folk. And still others even take jobs and enjoy lives much as non-magical folk do. I realize it must come as quite a shock to you. But, please, let us walk a bit. I will shed light, as best I can, on what our interest is in you.”

Dumbledore placed his hand behind the big man’s bicep and began walking towards the stained glass windows at the far end of the huge library. Each step they took echoed through the enormous expanse yet seemed strangely muffled. The floors, steps and landing all appeared to be of white marble. The large wooden tables running down the center of the library were so large a dozen stout men surely couldn’t move one. Each of the tables was topped with highly polished black marble. The library was very well lit, but Webster couldn’t make out any light source.

“This is the library of the Hall of Justice, Mr. Webster. It is the most complete library in our world. Many very rare volumes of works from countless centuries line these shelves and document our very history. Recorded here, too, are the names of all magical folk who have lived since the beginning of written history. Well behind these shelves are others holding artifacts of our distant magical past. And even though I believe myself to be a well read old wizard, the total sum of my knowledge would fill little more than a few shelves in this room,” Dumbledore explained.

“It’s huge!” Webster exclaimed. “I have never seen anything like it. You said ‘Hall of Justice’. Are we in a courthouse?”

“Actually we are, but in a very small part of it. The Hall of Justice would be the equivalent of a world court in your reality. One could say it is the world court of magical folk,” the old professor said with a large smile, having never thought of it that way before.

“In the United States we have a Supreme Court of nine justices,” Webster told Dumbledore, as he lifted his head to take in the immense height of the arched ceiling.

“Our Hall of Justice has but one who bears the title of Lord Chief Justice. Although he has a great number of assistants who serve at his pleasure, he alone passes judgments,” Dumbledore said. “And the fact is, Mr. Webster, the only position in our government forbidden to magical folk is that of Lord Chief Justice. Only a non-magical person may be seated in our high court.”

Dumbledore stopped beside one of the long tables in the library and motioned Webster to take a seat. “It has been over twenty years since we had a seated justice. During that time, we have spent countless hours scrutinizing numerous prospects for the position. The whole process, you see, is very demanding and exhausting, and very often not one candidate makes it through the procedure. In actual fact, only one has made it through the process these last twenty years. That one candidate is you, Mr. Webster.”

“What?” he screamed out. “What are you talking about, Dumbledore? I’m no judge!”

“Oh, we believe you would make a splendid judge, Mr. Webster. We have meticulously examined your life history and conducted investigations using the processes available to us in our magical world. You might feel overwhelmed or inadequate to the task, sir, but, I assure you, you are the man for the job,” the professor calmly stated.

A security officer entered the library with a tea service and quickly made her way to their table. After Dumbledore thanked the officer, she nodded and once again left them alone.

“Ah!” Dumbledore exclaimed. “Iced tea! Just as you like it, too, I understand.”

“Yes, that’s my drink of choice. Thank you!” Webster said, accepting the large glass of iced tea Dumbledore lifted and offered to him. Upon raising the glass to his mouth, the aroma of the tea seemed overly pungent but after taking a sip, he instantly knew it was the finest brew he had ever put to his lips. “This is the best damn tea I’ve ever tasted. Where can I buy some?”

“Buy?” Dumbledore repeated, a quizzical expression on his face. “Well, I don’t really know, but I’ll look into it. You don’t actually buy anything while at the Hall of Justice. It is provided as you desire it.”

“I’ve got to take some of this stuff home,” Webster said, pausing and looking back into the face of the old man. “That is, if I am allowed to return home?”

“Of course you may return home. Whenever you like,” the professor told him. “We will not force the position on you, Mr. Webster. It is a decision you must make freely.”

“And what keeps me from talking when I return? You magic folk wouldn’t take kindly, I’d imagine, to someone speaking out about your invisible little world?” he questioned, studying the old wizards face carefully, so as to read the real truth.

“You will awaken refreshed in your bed with no memory, whatsoever, of our meeting, Mr. Webster. It will be a great loss to us, I assure you, but you will never know the difference,” Dumbledore told him.

“So, why did you have to kidnap me? Why was I forced here and held prisoner by the blue-caped vampire girls? Why didn’t you simply come to me?” Webster asked.

“That was for your protection. You see there are those amongst our people who do not want another Lord Chief Justice. As in your world, Mr. Webster, there are those who wish to live outside the law. And some who would like to control and rule both the magical and non-magical worlds using dark magic. Naturally, the majority of us fear these dark lords will become stronger and more organized over time. As soon as we began considering you as a possible candidate, security had to be assigned to protect you from anyone wishing to do you harm. The investigation into your background was done in the most secretive manner. But even the most novice witch or wizard would be able to trace the steps of the investigative team over time. Therefore, as you moved up our list of candidates, we assigned more and more security to assess and counter possible threats to you,” the old wizard explained.

“And, I assume, the threats would never end. I would always be living in jeopardy?” Webster questioned, lowering his glass of tea back to the tray.

“Oh, no! Absolutely not, I assure you. If you accept the position, two things will protect you from harm for as long as you live. The Hall of Justice itself is protected by a magical charm so strong any form of magic is useless inside its confines, with a few exceptions. Also, the candidate for the high court is presented with a ring at the time he takes his oath of office, which provides him with protection outside the hall, among other things, and represents his absolute authority to judge and issue official decrees. Truthfully, though, there will be some who will attempt to find some way to do you harm,” Dumbledore then paused and took the time to sip a little of his tea during the purposeful interlude.

The old headmaster looked back into Webster’s eyes. “Forgive me, but you are selling yourself far too short, as people in your world like to say. Earlier you were concerned over the fact you had never been a judge in your world and didn’t feel qualified. The truth is, a judge from your world would be unable to operate effectively in ours. The limitations, prejudices and biases accumulated after years sitting in judgment in your world makes for a very weak judge in ours. We know this firsthand. For centuries our people sought out judges from the non-magical world but were greatly disappointed with the result,” the professor said.

“I still don’t know why you think I’m qualified,” Webster said.

“Over those same centuries our people refined the criteria we used to find our best and strongest judges. It is the careful application of those standards that led us to you. You may not have much faith in the selection process, but, I assure you, I do. In my opinion, Mr. Webster, you would make a very, very fine judge,” Dumbledore said.

“I wouldn’t know the first thing about judging your people,” he continued.

“You would have the very best assistants from our world to help you. They would serve at your discretion, of course, and a number of them have been tempered by years of struggle against the dark lords and their supporters. You would have many candidates to choose from which include some very young, fresh minds and strong bodies. And I solemnly pledge to do everything in my power to help you, Mr. Webster, if you choose to accept the post,” Dumbledore said, speaking his last sentence slowly and with complete honesty, hoping Webster would see it to be so.

Webster shifted his eyes from Dumbledore to the tray of tea. He had, in a very short time, gone from thinking this was a world-class prank to knowing, full well, it wasn’t. The old man had spoken truthfully to him; of this he was sure. Webster put his left elbow on the table, raised his hand to his face and rubbed his eyes. He sat quietly for some time thinking over what the old man had told him. It was all too incredible.

Professor Dumbledore sat back in his chair and decided it was time to allow the man a little time to ruminate over his bizarre predicament. He lifted his glass of iced tea off of the tray and sipped at it. Holding it up to the lightness of the room, the professor marveled at the color and was very impressed with the taste. “In all the years of my life,” he thought, “why haven’t I tried this before. This is outstanding!”

“And if I should decide to take you up on your offer, how would we proceed, Dumbledore? Again, just for curiosities sake,” Webster asked the old professor.

“If you would allow me to savor a little more of this excellent iced tea, I would like to take you back to your future office,” the professor said, smiling and lifting his glass as if to toast his future Lord Chief Justice.

Professor Dumbledore and Webster sat and talked for what seemed like hours. The old professor explained how the Ministry of Magic interacted with the Hall of Justice; he educated him on the purpose of the schools of witches and wizards and gave him a brief overview of the history of magic; spoke of Hogwarts and of the dark lords and of the Death Eaters. Finally Dumbledore rose from his seat and bid him follow him back to the justice’s chamber. Before entering into the office, Webster stopped and pointed towards the room just outside the justice’s chamber.

“And this Executive Assistant, who would that be?” he asked of the professor.

“You will ultimately decide that but I have a perfect candidate in mind and would be honored if you would give my choice consideration. Actually, the Executive Assistant is an extremely important position and will be your most critical appointment. The Executive Assistant is second only to you. It certainly should be your first, in my opinion,” Dumbledore told him. “On the other hand, you might wish to have a dozen Executive Assistants. It is totally up to you.”

“And what other positions need to be filled?” Webster asked.

“Of course, you will most urgently need a court clerk. There presently is a security force in place, as there always has been. But of great and pressing importance will be the staffing of your Department of Special Investigations. Beyond that, justices have, in the past, delegated staffing appointment responsibilities to their Executive Assistants. In most instances, the Executive Assistants have always had supervisory staff under them. There are court librarians, historians, housekeeping and cooking and ground-keeping staff to name just a few. The Hall of Justice requires a considerable workforce to keep it running smoothly, as one might only imagine,” Dumbledore explained to him.

“And who pays for all this?” Webster asked.

“You need not concern yourself with costs. There are no limitations placed on the high court. Everything you need and desire will be provided,” Dumbledore was pleased to clarify. “These non-magical folk are always concerned with costs,” he thought, perplexed at the very idea.

They walked back into the large office where Webster had been initially brought and guarded by the security officers. The room was paneled with rich, dark woods and, including the desk, there was a large conference table with at least a dozen heavy, ornately carved chairs around it. Two large sofas were placed against the wall at one corner of the room separated from three large, overstuffed chairs by a coffee table. Two credenzas and two wooden filing cabinets were against the wall behind the justice’s desk.

Professor Dumbledore walked straight through the room and opened the door opposite the door to the library. They walked into what appeared to be a living area. There were numerous expansive rooms, another private library and office within. A number of doors leading into what he believed to be bedrooms and bathrooms were in view down one hall. What or who they would be used for Webster didn’t know.

“And this is your private residence, Mr. Webster. There are two floors of living space with some twenty bedrooms and bathrooms, three private libraries and study areas and, as you have seen, a dining and living area, an indoor pool and garden, through the double doors at the end there, are within the atrium. You have an open air meeting area on what would be the third floor and the main residence. Even though it has seldom ever been used, the residence has a fully functional kitchen, also. To the far right is a music room and across, on the left, is the game room and pub,” the professor informed him, quite impressed he was himself. “And underfoot, in what you Americans would call a basement, are located the supporting service quarters, kitchens and the like. And on another level, below that, is where the Hall of Justice Security Force lives and trains.”

“What is all this space for, Dumbledore? Who would need such space?” Webster asked, amazed at what he was seeing.

“You would be surprised at how fast some past justices filled up these rooms, Mr. Webster,” the professor said, smiling. “And, there are other, more delicate things that will take a little explaining which will shed some light on that topic.”

“What other things?” he asked.

“I failed to tell you, forgive me, yes, about some of the lifestyles and appetites of a number of our past justices’. All of them, whether male or female, of course, offer a room to their Executive Assistant, the Court Clerk and certain other staff. This is convenient for a number of reasons. And, over time, most have installed other assistants of various talents within the residence. It is just a matter of choice, you see? And the matter is entirely at your discretion and pleasure,” Dumbledore stated, as a matter of fact.

“And what other things have we not yet discussed?” Webster asked.

“Come, let’s go to the Hall of Justice and we will continue our discussion over those things,” the professor said, turning to leave the residence.

The third door of the justice’s chamber opened onto the dais of the courtroom. The podium and steps were of the same white marble used in the library and the residence but the Hall of Justice’s flooring was of a deep blue marble. The room was huge, although not nearly of the same expanse as the library. It’s ceiling was arched like a grand cathedral and a full, three stories in height. The walls were of white marble above the level of a man’s shoulder. Below, they were paneled with the same rich, dark woods used in other parts of the Hall of Justice. At the far end, opposite the dais, were two large wooden doors. Dumbledore pointed toward the doors. They then walked down the steps and proceeded down the length of the courtroom. As they neared the doors, a security officer opened one which lead into another large expanse. There were many arches, pools, benches, tables and fountains. At irregular locations, trees were growing and large beds of flowers were interspaced between benches and tables. He noticed a large, curved wall opposite the courtroom doors.

“This is the anteroom of the Hall of Justice. It is here those who are commanded to appear before you or seek an audience with you will come. As you can see, there are a great number of arches along the curved wall. Except for the one in the center, which bears the Great Seal of the Ministry of Magic, each of the others represent schools of magic around the world. Anyone ordered to appear must use a device we call a portkey for transportation here. The only locations portkeys are found, which will terminate transport within this room, are in the offices of the headmasters of each school and in the anteroom of the Minister of Magic. Upon entering here, no magical wand, potion, charm, or other magical mechanism or device will function, with a few exceptions. Thus it has been for a thousand years,” the professor concluded. “Now, let us go back into the courtroom. I have other things to tell you; certain things you must know.”

As the two men passed through the doors leading back into the courtroom, Webster noticed, for the first time, the Great Seal of the Hall of Justice affixed to the white marble wall above the dais. Most prominent was the figure of a large bird-of-prey swooping down, talons extended, upon a set of golden scales. The bird shimmered in dark iridescent blues and greens, except for the one visible eye from which dimly glowed a deep, blood red. Around the silver background of the seal was engraved, in deepest blue, the words “Great Seal of the Hall of Justice”.

The old wizard asked Webster to sit at one of two long tables located directly below the Justice’s Bench when they got to the front of the courtroom. “There are many civil matters pending, as you can well imagine, after not having a seated justice these last twenty years. The majority are frivolous cases, and I’m confident most will likely be withdrawn once you are sworn into office. The Ministry of Magic has decided some criminal and civil matters that were of pressing concern these last years, but they have failed to act or act properly in cases where they feared retributions. Only in a few extreme cases have they acted when they realized failing to do so would result in unconscionable consequences.”

Dumbledore looked up and gazed at the Justice’s Bench. Webster knew the old man was deep in thought, carefully choosing how he was going to proceed. After a long silence, the old man’s face turned back to Webster, and he looked him in the eyes before again beginning to speak slowly and distinctly.

“The Ministry of Magic will not attempt to muddle in your affairs too much in the beginning but you will find, unless I’m greatly mistaken, in small bits and pieces, they will try to wield more and more influence over you. Although most say they desire a powerful justice, many wish to remain in absolute control and will attempt to ascertain your every weakness and use it against you. If you show yourself to be your own man from the outset, they may fear you too much to blatantly challenge you. Therefore, what I am about to tell you is what I believe, in my heart, will be your greatest challenge and what is the greatest danger to our world.”

Dumbledore paused once again, removed his glasses, and rubbed at his tired eyes. This last month of labor, serving with the Council of Seven, had taken its toll on the old man. During that time, he had gotten very little sleep. Troubling visions filled his mind constantly. Numerous times, he had moved from his bed to his rocking chair to better fight off the depressing, disconcerting thoughts.

Webster evaluated the tired old man, watching him closely. Even though the old wizard spoke passionately and with great clarity, he couldn’t help but notice he seemed exhausted and frail. After some minutes, the old professor cleared his throat and looked back into the eyes of the man seated before him.

“Over these last twenty years a number of Dark Lords have risen with evil aspirations, as I told you before, to control both the magical and non-magical worlds. One of these Dark Lords has taken up the name of Voldemort. He is a very powerful wizard and a very dangerous one. He wishes to enslave non-magical folk and all those of our world who do not come from a pure wizard bloodline. His followers, called Death Eaters, are amongst us and continually work in their master’s behalf. We realize, though, that without their support, Voldemort is nearly powerless. To constantly combat such threats, the Ministry is supposed to maintain an Office of Investigations with witches and wizards specifically charged with hunting down and seizing those alleged to be living outside magic law. However, for some years now, they have been doing very little else but simple compliance investigations. And, I’m sorry to say, that office has fell into a state of near non-existence.”

Again, the old wizard paused. Webster noticed a spark in his eyes when he continued. “That is the main reason I was so excited about you, Daniel Webster. Your experience in Criminal Investigations and law enforcement provides you with a unique perspective, giving you the ability to make a measured and objective assessment of our situation. The Hall of Justice, you understand, maintains its own Department of Special Investigations. It is completely separate from the ministry and operates solely under the authority and control of the Lord Chief Justice. The seated justice decides how large and effective his department will be. With a strong investigative unit, we will be able to find and prosecute the Death Eaters and lessen the chance Voldemort will once again regain great power.” Dumbledore again fell silent.

Webster now fully understood the reason for his selection. Whatever sieve they had initially run him through was nothing compared to the weight they had given his own personal work history. The proactive, preemptive nature of his prior career was what got his foot in the door. He couldn’t help but think back on that career, though, thinking about the obstacles he had to face everyday to stay within the letter of the law. As that was considered, he wondered how different it must be here. Surely, these people realized how hard-nosed and unfeeling he had to be, how very little of the laws he enforced could be bent, how structured and unforgiving they had to be.

“Are there many in the Ministry who would support me, if I choose to do this?” Webster asked the old professor.

Dumbledore couldn’t help but smile to himself. A gentle wave of electricity fired through his old body. Like the freshness of an approaching storm, he felt a surge of renewed energy. His little fishy didn’t nipple at the hook. No, he swallowed the whole damn thing. “I am confident there will be a good majority. But once you prove to all at the Ministry just how strong a justice you are, I’m positive even more support will certainly follow. One thing is undeniable: the Ministry might make the law,” Dumbledore stopped, tilted his head forward, peering over the top rims of his glasses before continuing, “but you are the law. Whatever your decrees or judgments will be, they will be final.”

Webster was almost unsettled by Dumbledore’s words. The old man’s faith and convictions were flattering, to say the least, but the bar he was setting was extremely high. It made him think of the old saying about biting off more than one can chew. Nevertheless, Webster had already made up his mind. He would do it. He would take on this job of Lord Chief Justice.

“Dumbledore,” Webster began, looking directly into the old professor’s eyes. “You must know I have never been a very tolerant man, and I’m not very forgiving. You must also know I’m not one to take crap off of anyone, either. I do not believe in prosecuting to teach a lesson, ever. Prosecution to me means punishment. I’m no social worker, and I don’t believe in rehabilitation. Surely you must know this?”

“Of course, Mr. Webster,” the old professor smiled, liking the sound of the man’s words very much. “As I said before, you were selected based upon a stringent set of criteria. A social worker, as you call it, would never have even made our list, I assure you.”

“When would I be seated and how would it begin?” Webster asked.

“Whenever you choose. This very night, if you wish. Magic Law requires only the presence of the Minister of Magic and two witnesses. However, if you would like to have some time to mull things over or if you wish to enter your office with grand pageantry?” the professor eyed his candidate and arched his eyebrows at his own question.

“I believe you know I have never been one for pomp or grand pageantry,” he said, “I don’t plan on changing that now.”

“Ah!” Dumbledore exclaimed with a grin. “Of course. Then what is your wish, Mr. Webster?”

“How do I address you, Dumbledore? What is the correct way or what would you prefer?” Webster asked.

“I am titled and generally addressed as Professor Dumbledore. But between us, Albus would be fine,” the old professor smiled.

Both Webster and Dumbledore came to their feet. He offered his hand to the old professor. “Albus, then. Please call me Dan,” Webster said with a smile and shook Professor Dumbledore’s hand for the second time. “Would you please summon our Minister of Magic to the Hall along with whomsoever he wishes to serve as witnesses.”

Professor Dumbledore nodded his head and smiled a grand smile. “It will be an honor to do so, Your Lordship.”