Jon had no idea what was unfolding in distant Albania, nor did he fully grasp the shift in Tom Riddle's mindset.
In truth, as the newly appointed Headmaster of Hogwarts, he was already overwhelmed. Countless minor matters demanded his attention, and countless important figures needed to meet him.
At a quarter past eight in the morning, the portrait of Headmaster Everard on the wall gently reminded him:
"Jon, you must depart for the Ministry of Magic now, or you may miss that trial."
"Alright, thank you, Everard!"
Jon nodded and rose from his chair.
He quickly straightened his robes, tucked his emerald bamboo wand into his pocket, then approached the enormous golden perch in the Headmaster's Office.
"Fawkes, wake up!" Jon urged softly.
The poor Phoenix let out a few unpleasant cries before slowly flying out of the perch.
With a flash of golden light—
Jon and the Phoenix vanished completely from the spot.
...
A few minutes later, Jon Hart, now at the Ministry of Magic, was heading toward his destination.
First, he took the Ministry elevator all the way down. Upon reaching the lowest level, Jon found an opening leading to a staircase descending further.
After walking down the stairs for nearly five minutes, Jon estimated he was approaching a depth of two hundred yards beneath London. The stairs finally ended, revealing a corridor.
The walls on either side of the corridor were bare, devoid of doors or windows. It was identical to the corridor in Hogwarts Castle leading to the Potions classroom in the dungeon: rough stone walls, torches mounted on brackets, and an atmosphere that was slightly unnerving.
At the end of the corridor stood a black door, hung with a large, ominous iron lock. Crookedly scrawled across it were the words:
"First Courtroom."
Gripping the heavy iron handle, Jon stepped into the courtroom.
The walls were constructed of dark stone, dimly lit by the flickering torches. Rows of empty benches ascended on either side, while ahead, on the highest benches, shadowy figures loomed.
The figures had been murmuring among themselves, but as Jon Hart entered, they fell into a brief silence.
Soon, however, louder whispers erupted, seemingly directed at him.
"I hope I'm not late, Minister!"
Jon ignored the murmurs, striding forward and speaking calmly.
The witch seated at the very front, broad-shouldered with a square jaw, lifted her head. Her gray hair was cropped short, and she wore a monocle. Her expression was intimidating.
"Yes, you are punctual, Mr. Hart!" Minister Amelia Bones nodded sternly. "Please take your seat promptly. The interrogation will commence in three minutes."
"Thank you."
Jon glanced around the room and spotted an empty seat beside Kingsley Shacklebolt in the front row. He walked over and sat down.
Kingsley gave him a slight nod, which Jon returned.
The murmuring hadn't faded; Jon suspected most eyes in the room were fixed on him now.
"I hope you can visit the Order of the Phoenix headquarters this afternoon," Kingsley murmured from beside him. "Many Order members don't fully understand Dumbledore's final decisions. You'll need to offer them some explanation."
"Alright, I will," Jon replied.
...
"Silence!" Minister declared sternly.
The room fell instantly quiet.
Jon curiously surveyed his surroundings. The room felt more like a dungeon than a courtroom.
A bleak, sinister atmosphere hung in the air. The walls bore no pictures or decorations, only rows upon rows of long benches arranged in tiers.
In the center of the room stood a chair, its armrests bound by alternating chains on the left and right. From every seat, this chained chair was clearly visible.
"Bring in the first prisoner!" Bones commanded.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the chamber.
A door in the corner opened—not the one Jon had entered through—and three figures emerged. At least one of them was human, held captive by two Dementors.
The two Dementors—tall, hooded monsters—moved slowly toward the central chair, their rotting, corpse-like hands gripping the middle prisoner's arms.
The man looked ready to collapse.
The surrounding interrogators were also somewhat affected by the Dementors, though none made a move.
After the Dementors secured the man in the chained chair, they slowly exited the room, and the door closed once more.
The man in the chair was a face Jon knew well.
Horace Slughorn.
Slughorn appeared far more haggard than just days prior. His walrus-like frame had visibly shrunk by a full size, and his once respectable clothes were now worn and tattered.
The chains on the chair's armrests suddenly flashed gold, then coiled like snakes around Slughorn's arms, binding him securely in place to prevent escape.
"Horace Slughorn!" a sudden voice declared from the left.
The speaker was Rufus Scrimgeour. He had been seated to the Minister's right, but he had been sitting so far back on the bench that his entire body was hidden in shadow, making him difficult to notice earlier.
"You are charged with passing information to Voldemort's followers over the past year. You are charged with participating in the murder of Albus Dumbledore. And you are charged with the attempted murder of Sybill Trelawney..."
Scrimgeour's voice rumbled like the growl of an enraged lion.
"Do you plead guilty?!"
"Yes... I do not deny it... and I deeply regret my past actions..." Slughorn said weakly, yet with urgency.
"Therefore... I now offer my services to the Ministry of Magic. I am willing to assist... I know the Ministry is currently... hunting down the remnants of You-Know-Who's followers. I will do everything in my power to help you..."
"Very well... Slughorn," Scrimgeour said, his voice softening slightly.
"Name the Death Eaters you know, and their whereabouts."
"Snape!" Slughorn shouted.
"Severus Snape!"
In the flickering torchlight, Jon saw sweat pouring down Slughorn's face. His body trembled slightly.