Hogwarts, a Scholar Becomes a God

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"At least it looks good!"

Clark looked at the spaghetti bolognese served and nodded with satisfaction.

The sticky red meat sauce, sprinkled with a layer of grated Parmesan cheese and garnished with a few basil leaves, looks appetizing.

Using a fork to roll the meat sauce and pasta into the mouth, the unique strong acidity and sweetness of the Italian San Marzano tomatoes exploded in the mouth in an instant, completely opening up the appetite of the diners, making people want to storm inhaled.

At the same time, between the lips and teeth is also filled with the caramel aroma of beef and the fat aroma of butter. In addition to the main flavor, the vegetables of onion, carrot and celery are slightly sweet as a slight garnish.

Coupled with the special aroma of cheese and black pepper, as well as the silky sausage in the chopped European sausage, the superposition of various ingredients makes this pasta a complex and balanced unique flavor.

In the face of delicious food, even Clark, who has always maintained an aristocratic attitude, completely let go of his shackles.

He loosened his buttoned neckline, rolled up his sleeves, rolled his fork, and shoved the savory pasta into his mouth, smothered in sauce.

If you are tired, there is also free lemon tea and coffee in the cafeteria.

In the middle of the meal, the voices of the Ministry of Magic staff talking about work were heard from the seats next to each other.

"You don't know, the cat we caught today can actually spew fire..."

"Hey, what are you, we got a report today that there was a backflow of sewage from a public toilet in Wimbledon.

That's a **** of a thing, you don't know, the muggles flushed the toilet, and the dirt not only didn't disappear - ah, anyway, when we rushed over, tsk tsk tsk, that scene-"

"Enough, we're still eating here..."

The two Clarke, who were full of food and drink, sat for a while, and when the trial was approaching, Roger McMillan got up and took Clark to the courtroom.

The trial of Sirius and Peter is on the tenth basement floor of the Ministry of Magic.

"The tenth courtroom has not been used for many years," Rogge took Clark to the elevator again. "If this case hadn't been too urgent, the other courtrooms would have already been booked out, and they would not have chosen this one. Time to try Sirius and Peter."

The elevator descended rapidly, and as there were only two passengers, it quickly reached its destination.

"The ninth floor, the Department of Mysterious Affairs." A cold woman's voice suddenly appeared, and she fell silent after speaking.

The elevator door slammed open, revealing an extremely dark corridor in front of Clark, completely different from the brightly lit corridors above, even when no one was there.

The walls on both sides were empty, with neither doors nor windows, except for a simple black door at the end of the corridor.

Just when Clark thought that the door was the end of the trip, Roger McMillan stretched out his hand to the left, only to realize that there was still a gap leading to a staircase.

"Mr. Prewett, this way, please, watch your steps," Roger McMillan said, stepping down two steps in one step, "you can't even go down this deep with an elevator... if not for no other option. …”

They went down to the bottom of the stairs and down a corridor.

The place was exactly like those hallways at Hogwarts that led to the Potions basement: the rough stone walls and the dimly lit torches perched on bronze brackets covered with green rust.

The heavy wooden doors that passed along the way were inlaid with heavy iron latches and thick keyholes.

In front of a gloomy black door with a large iron lock, Roger stopped.

"Tenth courtroom...I think...we're almost there...yes, it's here."

Roger McMillan glanced back at Clark, "Mr. Prewett, are you sure you want to go in? Actually, the trial is a very boring thing, you don't have to go in at all."

Although he knew that Mr. Prewett had a high status, in his eyes, Clark, no matter how good, was still just a child.

In such a gloomy place, witnessing the game of politicians, watching the most serious court trial, and perhaps the most terrifying punishment, can he accept it?

Clark, who is a [Psion], immediately sensed what Rogge was thinking, and also had a faint favorable impression of this Ministry of Magic employee, at least this guy is still a good person.

"Thank you, but just as you have your job, I have mine, so open the door, Mr. McMillan."

Roger McMillan was speechless, so he twisted the heavy iron handle on the door and gently pushed the door open, "Then... please come in, Mr. Prewett, I won't accompany you in."

Clark entered the courtroom, his eyes suddenly darkened, and it took a while for his vision to become clear again. The light in this courtroom turned out to be darker than the corridor outside.

He looked around in the dim and gloomy light, and found that it was more like a dungeon than a courtroom.

The surrounding walls, as well as the floor and ceiling, are made of large blocks of black stone, the color of which is so deep that it seems to absorb the surrounding light at all times.

Clark recognized at a glance that the stones on these walls were all high-grade obsidian.

This naturally formed glass gemstone has the effect of warding off evil spirits in Muggle cognition. It can avoid the interference of negative energy, and can also remove unpleasant musty smell and bad luck. It is usually worn by Muggles as amulets.

What Muggles don't know is that obsidian is often used to make handcuffs, chains, cages and even cells because of its good adsorption to black magic.

Also because of this feature, although the entire courtroom is dim, it does not have the gloomy aura unique to the prison law enforcement department. Instead, it is like an ordinary room.

Of course, the chair in the center of the room, wrapped in obsidian chains, told Clark that he had come to the wrong place.

"Ah, it's our little Clark, come come, come up here."

The heavy door closed behind Clark, and at the same time, Fudge's affectionate voice echoed in the courtroom.

Clark looked up following the sound, and saw that around the inner wall of the room, rows of benches gradually rose in steps. In the middle of the highest and front row of benches, Minister of Magic Connelly. Fudge is sitting there.

On his left is Amelia Susan Burns, Director of Legal Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic, and on his right is Senior Deputy Minister of Magic Dolores Jane Umbridge.

In addition to them, three or five Ministry of Magic staff were sparsely seated on the bench below.

The staff were surprised to see the normally high minister treat a minor child so warmly, watching Clark whisper.

Clark heard Fudge's greeting and took a few steps to his side.

Umbridge was very winking, and took the initiative to give up his position.

To be honest, this guy is really a bit of a skill, no wonder he can climb to the position of Senior Deputy Minister of Magic as a woman without the background of family support.

Just this vision and thick skin, Clark has to be resigned.

However, he still knew it in his heart, knowing that if he really sat down, although he would be tolerated by others because of his identity as a child, he would still surpass it after all.

So he waved his hand, politely rejected the other party's kindness, and sat down beside Director Amelia.

"Aren't they all there yet, Minister?" asked Clark, who was seated.

"Well, it looks like we're too early," Fudge shrugged, "but that's fine, it's always better to be early than late."

Just as Clark was thinking about the deep meaning of Fudge's words, the heavy door opened again, and there were chaotic footsteps.

There were at least sixty or seventy people in the dark, as if they had already made an appointment, they slowly walked into the courtroom.

Among them, in addition to a few Aurors in black robes, there are more than 50 wizards in purple robes with a delicate silver "w" embroidered on their left chest.

Clark knew that these wizards in fuchsia robes were members of the Wizengamot.

This is a wizarding organization that was established earlier than the Ministry of Magic and now exists as a combination of courts and parliaments.

The entire Wizengamot is composed of about fifty wizard members, all of whom are prominent figures in the British magic circle. The highest officer is called the chief wizard of Wizengamore.

And now the chief wizard of Wizengamore in the British wizarding world is the headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore.

Not only did Clark see him in the crowd, but he also saw Harry following him step by step.

Professor Dumbledore had apparently spotted Clark too, and the old Headmaster's eyes flickered behind the crescent-shaped lenses and gave him a brief but encouraging smile.

In addition to these people, Clark also saw Barty Crouch, who had just met once. He was the last one to come in. His face was expressionless, his eyes were cold, and he seemed to be in a bad mood.

"Very well," said Fudge. "We're all here, let's get started. Are you ready?"

This last sentence, Fudge asked out loudly towards the other side of the bench.

"Yes, sir."

Clark followed the sound and found a wizard sitting on the far side of the front bench, his eyes hidden behind horn glasses were staring intently at the parchment in front of him, a quill in his hand, Seems to be recording something.

"The trial on May 28," said Fudge in a humming voice, and the wizard hurriedly began to take notes, "re-trial thirteen years ago, when Death Eater Sirius Black betrayed the Potters and killed Peter Pettigrew. a case."

Fudge looked around, and continued calmly and forcefully.

"Interrogators: Minister of Magic Cornelius Oswald Fudge; Director of Magical Law Enforcement Division Amelia Susan Burns; Senior Deputy Minister Dolores Jane Umbridge —”

"Defense Witnesses: Severus Snape; Clark William Prewett; Harry Potter."

Clark saw the gloomy-faced Professor Snape come in from a corner, and Harry walked over to him, too, very cautiously.

After the two stood still, Fudge ordered the Auror to bring Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew into the deliberation room as well.

There was a dull sound of footsteps, the door at the corner of the dungeon opened, and four people walked in—Blake, Peter, and the two Aurors.

"Hmm..." Fudge pondered for a while, stretched out his wand, shook it slightly, and a chair of the same style as the center of the deliberation room appeared.

The Aurors put Black and Peter on the chair, and the obsidian demon-forbidden chains bounced instantly, making a sinister tinkling sound, binding them tightly.

"Okay, now the trial begins," Fudge rummaged through the pile of papers in front of him, and finally pulled out a piece of parchment, took a deep breath, and read aloud: "The accused has the following offense:

"Defendant Sirius Black, accused of divulging information about the Potters to the Dark Lord on October 31, 1981, causing the Potters to die at their Godric Valley home.

And on November 1, 1981, on a Muggle street, Pettigrew Peter was brutally murdered, as well as more than a dozen Muggle people present.

This act violated Section 5 of the British Wizards Regulation Act of 1833 and Article 13 of the International Confederation of Wizards Secrecy Act of 1689. "

After he finished, there was silence in the arena.

Suddenly, a voice said abruptly, "Sirius Black."

Clark turned his head to see Mr. Crouch standing in the middle of the bench next to him.

He looked very serious and said solemnly: "You have been imprisoned in Azkaban for thirteen years and have never thought of appealing. Now, you are telling us that you are innocent and that Peter Pettigrew is not dead. ?"

"Yes, UU Reading www.uukanshu.com You didn't give me a chance to appeal, and you put me directly into Azkaban."

Sirius gave Crouch a contemptuous look.

"But also, people don't want to believe that the heir of a family that often produces dark wizards will be a good person.

People are more likely to believe that I, Blake, are actually a bad guy.

People are especially willing to believe that all the good things I do are just fakes and that I should be a traitor, an undercover agent. "

Sirius who said here shook his head sadly, and with his lonely figure, people couldn't help but start to pity him.

"As for Peter Pettigrew, if your eyes were still there, you should be able to see this one sitting next to me, right?"

Hearing Sirius's full of sarcasm, the Wizengamore members in purple robes on the podium couldn't help but whisper.

Crouch's lips turned pale and pursed, but he could not utter a word.

It wasn't until Fudge spoke again that the podium fell silent.