The Magitorium Arcanum was devoid of windows, an intentional design choice that emphasized its magical eminence. It didn't need the light of day. Instead, a constellation of floating orbs, each enchanted to replicate the allure of starlight, bathed the vast chamber in an ethereal glow. The ceiling, soaring high above, was a magnificent expanse that evoked the infinite wonders of the night sky. Below, the floor was a masterpiece of obsidian glass, intricately etched with ancient legal wards that shimmered ominously under the magical illumination. Hovering just above the ground was the raised dais, home to five tribunal judges, their presence exuding authority as they were anchored in place by powerful gravity magic, a force as old as the very nations represented in the room.
A diverse assembly filled the chamber, a hushed wave of voices rising and falling—a crowded mosaic of ambassadors, scholars, journalists, and political envoys, each with their own motives for attending. Some had come to observe the legal proceedings closely, hungry for insights and revelations. Others arrived with culinary cravings, eager for the lavish feasts that often accompanied such grand gatherings. However, a select few harbored darker intentions, ensuring that Severus Shafiq would not leave the tribunal unscathed, his fate dangling precariously in the balance.
The somber yet resonant toll of a bell echoed through the chamber, a singular note that sliced through the murmurs and held the crowd in rapt attention. As silence descended, the atmosphere thickened with anticipation and tension. The trial had begun.
"Let the record reflect," intoned the court scribe, his voice reverberating in the vaulted chamber, "that the Tribunal for Magical Regulation and Sovereignty convenes on this day in accordance with international law. The case presented is known as The Magical Ethics Inquiry of Severus Shafiq."
The names hung in the air as they echoed around the grand room. Not merely whispers. They were spoken with gravity.
Before the audience, the judges remained motionless, five imposing silhouettes of authority seated behind intricately carved silver nameplates:
Thaddeus Skye – High Magister Emeritus of the International Confederation of Wizards, his piercing gaze sharp as a dagger, his robes darker than freshly spilled blood. Every inch of him exuded an aura of unyielding power.
Indira Vale – Guildmistress of the Independent Potioneers' Council. Her watchful eyes radiated brilliance, a silent sentinel who observed all without revealing a trace of her thoughts.
Octavia Melrose – the British delegate and a former Hogwarts professor. Her expression remained inscrutable, a stoic mask that concealed her true feelings.
Linhart Aurel – a Zabini ally who possessed an unassuming demeanor, yet his steadfast loyalty was unwavering, a rock in the stormy seas of political machinations.
Alfred Pembroke – a Ministry loyalist in every sense except title. A thin smile, almost taunting, danced across his lips, suggesting an unspoken amusement at the proceedings.
In the midst of this tense atmosphere, a senior court marshal rose to pose a crucial question.
"Identification of the accused?"
Cassian Locke, Severus's counsel, stood with an air of quiet confidence, opting not to bow. "Severus Shafiq," he declared, his voice steady and resolute. "Citizen of the United Kingdom Magical Society, a Permanent Resident of the United States Magical Federation. He is a student of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, an esteemed inventor and researcher. The accused is present and will speak on his own behalf when the time is appropriate."
"And the charge?"
A British Ministry official stood from the opposite side—Robert Wilmont, the Deputy Minister of Magical Substance Regulation. He was a tall figure, thin and cloaked in a gray robe that flowed like mist around him. His hair was slicked back with meticulous precision, glinting under the flickering torches of the courtroom.
"The British Ministry accuses Severus Shafiq of creating, concealing, and preparing to distribute an unregistered Class-4 magical substance, the composition of which remains unknown—both inherently dangerous in nature and profoundly addictive in effect. We maintain that this poses a direct and tangible threat to the very fabric of magical society."
His voice resonated through the grand chamber, echoing off the stone walls and reverberating in the charged atmosphere.
A murmur of whispers broke out among the spectators, a palpable tension threading through the crowd as they processed the gravity of the allegations.
The judges, seated high above, exchanged solemn looks and nodded in acknowledgment of the seriousness of the charges being laid out before them.
Cassian, sitting confidently at the defendant's table, rose to respond, his voice ringing out sharp and clear, cutting through the murmur. "We enter a formal denial of all accusations. We firmly reserve our full defense for the evidentiary stage, where the truth will emerge."
Pembroke clicked a pen against his scroll, the sound sharp in the hushed courtroom. "Very well. Opening statements."
Wilmont strode confidently to the center of the room, his hands clasped behind his back like a stern teacher poised to reprimand a wayward pupil. His expression was serious, commanding the attention of everyone present.
"Ladies and gentlemen of this Tribunal," he began, his voice steady and authoritative, "what we have here is not merely a question of legality. It is a profound issue of judgment, of precedent, and of boundaries that have been pushed too far."
He gestured towards Severus, who sat unperturbed, flanked by Arcturus and Lorenzo, a picture of defiance amidst the tension.
"Behind me sits a boy—not a man. Not a seasoned expert, but simply a boy," Wilmont continued, emphasizing the youth of the defendant. "Gifted, undoubtedly. But reckless, secretive, and utterly unsupervised. And what did he choose to do with that remarkable talent? He concocted a potion so powerful that it defies our current classification systems. A substance that is laced with addictive magic, intricately woven into its very structure—this has been confirmed by our own enchanters."
He pivoted on his heel, directing his intense gaze back to the court, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.
"And when questioned? He offered no warning. No registry of his creation. No semblance of accountability. This—" he pointed emphatically to the sealed vial resting ominously before him on the table, "—was obtained through alternative channels. The International Confederation of Wizards did not seize it; rather, it was passed to us through cooperative sources who feared the consequences of allowing such unchecked power to persist."
Wilmont's voice rose, filled with urgency. "And so I ask you: If this is permitted to continue… what else will we fail to stop?"
With his statement delivered, he returned to his seat, the weight of his accusation lingering in the air. Several members of the audience nodded gravely, some even breaking the tension with quiet applause, showing their support for the severity of the points raised.
Cassian Locke was the next to step forward.
He moved without the burden of notes or parchment, his presence exuding the calm confidence of someone accustomed to navigating the sharpest of environments.
"What you've just heard is a story," Cassian began, his tone measured and composed. "A carefully crafted fable intended to cast innovation in the shadow of corruption."
With purpose, he raised his chin, but he held nothing in his hands—no scroll, no props to amplify his point. The emphasis lay solely in his voice, steady and unwavering.
"We will not prove Severus Shafiq's innocence today," he stated plainly.
A murmur rippled through the crowd; gasps echoed in the stillness.
"We won't have to," he continued, his eyes shifting to the panel of judges, each gaze cool and penetrating.
"Because we will prove that this case should never have existed in the first place. We will reveal that the evidence—if we can even refer to it as such—was obtained through illegal means, tainted and assessed without the necessary context. More importantly, it represents a sample of a potion not intended for sale or distribution, but explicitly for study."
He leaned forward slightly, engaging the audience with his intensity.
"And we will demonstrate that this case was never genuinely about safety. No, it was fundamentally about control."
He bowed—only to the room, disregarding the judges—and took his seat.
Melrose tapped her quill against the desk twice, signaling the start of proceedings. "Prosecution may proceed," she announced, her voice resonating in the hushed courtroom.
The British team stepped forward, presenting a vial that glowed faintly within its containment field—a deep, menacing blue that hinted at its volatile nature, yet somehow remained stable.
Wilmont, the lead enchanter, gestured toward a panel of his colleagues arrayed behind him. "The structure of this potion indicates stimulant properties. Our examinations through repeated magical pulses reveal a concerning aspect: dependency reinforcement. In simpler terms, this is a booster—a dangerously powerful one," he elaborated.
He allowed a pause, letting the gravity of his words sink in.
"There is no registry for this substance. No established safeguards. And based on our findings, it appears there have been no human trials conducted under ICW-sanctioned conditions," he added, his smile tight and professional. "The court should be deeply concerned about the implications of this research."
Melrose turned her gaze toward Cassian, signaling him to begin the defense's questioning. "Defense may cross-examine."
At first, Cassian remained seated, deep in thought. Then, with a steady breath, he finally stood and faced the enchanter who had just spoken.
"You stated that this potion was examined under secure lab conditions?" he asked, his voice calm yet probing.
"Yes," the enchanter confirmed, a hint of pride in his tone.
"And when did your lab obtain the sample in question?" Cassian pressed, his curiosity now piqued.
The enchanter hesitated for a moment, furrowing his brow as he recalled the details. "It was passed to the Ministry three weeks ago," he replied, his voice gaining an edge of uncertainty.
Cassian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "By whom, exactly?"
"That's classified information," the enchanter responded, defensively, his demeanor shifting as he recognized Cassian's line of inquiry.
Cassian nodded slowly, absorbing the information and the implications it carried.
Then Cassian turned to face the judges. "Does the ICW typically accept international inquiries based on evidence acquired through theft?"
A wave of murmurs rippled through the courtroom, the tension palpable, and Pembroke flushed with indignation.
Thaddeus Skye raised a hand, calling for silence, his authoritative demeanor commanding attention.
Cassian's voice cut through the quiet that settled in the room, steady and deliberate. "Let me be perfectly clear. The prosecution has not established what this potion actually is. They have only suggested what it might be—if we strip away intent, ignore ethics, and present it completely out of context."
He shifted his focus back to the judges, his expression serious. "Now, let us provide that much-needed context."
With a deliberate gesture, he motioned behind him. "Your honors, the defense respectfully requests permission for Mr. Shafiq to present the original variant of this formula, along with the associated laboratory logs, trial records, and verification from witnesses."
Melrose narrowed her eyes, skepticism etched on her face. "And what exactly is it that you are presenting?"
Cassian offered a faint smile, one that hinted at his confidence in their case. "The legal version."
"The one that predates the contested claims," he clarified, emphasizing the importance of their evidence.
A moment of silence hung in the air.
Then Thaddeus Skye broke the stillness. "Granted. The defense may proceed."
A palpable tension rippled through the courtroom, unsettling the spectators.
Severus rose to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest.
All eyes in the room turned toward him, holding their breath in anticipation.
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Dear Readers,
I would like to clarify that I am not a law student or legal professional, nor do I have formal knowledge of legal procedures. However, with thorough research (and some assistance from ChatGPT ), I have done my best to present an overview of how legal proceedings are conducted in this chapter.
I sincerely hope you find it engaging. Your feedback is truly valuable to me, and I would love to hear your thoughts on how the story should evolve next.
Thank you for your support!
Warm Regards,
Maggie