Last of The Fae Chapter 146: The Thane Fae Trials Finale

Thane stirred for the first time since the start of the trial. He hadn't moved much up until now—just sat quietly, hands folded, posture relaxed, gaze steady. But now, as Minister Fudge called his name, Thane looked up and met the eyes of the people seated above him. Members of the Wizengamot and various voting houses stared down with practiced neutrality, though some couldn't help the occasional glance at one another.

He knew what they were really debating. It wasn't about whether he was guilty. That had never been the point.

Guilt and innocence were just words—decorations for the real issue on trial: power.

No one up there cared about the details of the incident on the train. They cared about where Thane stood in the larger picture, and what supporting, or opposing, him would cost them.

The council had fractured. Lines were being drawn between the traditionalists clinging to what remained of the old order, and the more ambitious members who saw value in backing someone younger, sharper, and already far too popular for their liking.

Thane had walked into this trial hoping it would be a boost. A show of strength. The public would rally behind him, and his opponents would be forced to play nice. Instead, he'd stumbled into something larger. This wasn't just damage control anymore—this was the start of a long, messy fight. The verdict, whatever it was, would only decide who got to throw the first punch.

And unfortunately, there would be no sitting this one out. Any neutral ground had already been scorched.

The houses that abstained would paint targets on their backs, seen as unreliable by both sides. The votes today wouldn't just determine the outcome of the trial. They would set the stage for Ministry politics for the next decade maybe longer.

It was irritating.

Worse of all no matter how the trial ended it was only the beginning. More political maneuvering would follow, taking away the little free time Thane had managed to carve out of his busy schedule. 'Every single day, the benefits of revealing my true nature grow increasingly appealing.' Thane thought to himself before returning his focus to the present moment as his trial entered its final stages. 

"Lord Fae, were you aware that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was responsible for the release of dementors on board the Hogwarts Express?" Cassian asked, his voice clear and unwavering, projecting strength into the courtroom with every syllable. Confidence, after all, could often carry as much weight as evidence.

"No, I was not," Thane answered without delay, his tone calm but firm—leaving no room for ambiguity or hesitation.

Cassian gave a slight nod, as if the answer were exactly what he expected. "Then tell us, Lord Fae, what were you aware of at the time?"

Thane folded his hands and spoke evenly, his words crisp and deliberate. "That the train had come to a sudden and unannounced stop. Moments later, the train was swarmed by wraith-like entities that I identified—based on their appearance and the immediate effects of their presence—as dementors. Recognizing the danger they posed, I acted to protect myself and the students around me."

A few murmurs spread through the gallery, but Cassian pressed on. "And how, specifically, did you identify these creatures as dementors?"

Thane took in a deep breath, his eyes briefly scanning the room before locking back onto Cassian. "As Officer Gerald testified, dementors are known to feed on emotional energy. Their proximity induces an overwhelming sense of despair, and when they appear in groups, that effect is exponentially magnified. Their presence on the train was unmistakable. The psychological pressure was immediate, sharp, suffocating, and deeply familiar to anyone who has ever studied magical creatures or visited Azkaban."

Cassian didn't hide the faint smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "One final question, Lord Fae. Did you, as has been suggested, capture one of these dementors?"

"I did," Thane replied, without flinching.

Cassian tilted his head slightly, gesturing for elaboration. "And for what purpose?"

"I will not deny that their connection to the soul is of academic and developmental interest," Thane began, his voice steady, "but at the time, my motivation was pragmatic. The dementors' appearance was unexplained and, unauthorized to my knowledge. So I captured a single specimen to investigate how and why they had surrounded the train. I considered it a priority to determine if this was a coordinated attack or an unintentional failure of containment."

Cassian stepped back with a satisfied nod, folding his hands behind his back. "No further questions." 

"Lord Fae," Minister Fudge snapped before the silence could settle, his voice sharp and dripping with accusation, "did you truly believe a swarm of dementors could simply appear out of thin air?"

Thane tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. "Improbable? Certainly. But not more improbable than magical law enforcement deploying soul-sucking dark creatures onto a train full of children—without oversight, explanation, or so much as a warning to the passengers aboard."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the gallery.

Fudge's jowls trembled, his face contorting into a frustrated scowl. "The search would have proceeded in a reasonable manner if you hadn't interfered!"

"Are you absolutely certain of that, Minister?" Thane replied the edge of his voice sharpened just enough to cut through the formality. "Do you truly believe that none of the students, some as young as fifteen, would have instinctively defended themselves? That no one would have reacted with panic, spells, or screams when a dementor appeared unannounced at their door?"

Fudge flushed a deeper shade of red, the color creeping up his neck and past his collar. "Regardless, that does not give you, Lord Fae, the right to use your magic in such a reckless, unregulated fashion!"

Thane leaned back in the bewitched chair, calm as ever, fingers steepled in front of him. "And what part of my actions would you define as reckless? Casting a protective charm to defend myself and those around me? Restraining a threat when it appeared that no one else, including your department, was doing so?"

Fudge's hand clenched around the edge of the lectern his knuckles turning white. "Do you, expect this court to believe that you Lord Fae, were able to cast one of the most complex defensive charms known to wizardkind, without the risk of error, and collateral damage "

"The court doesn’t have to take my word for it," Thane replied, his voice steady and unflinching. "A witness already attested under oath that I successfully conjured a Patronus—one powerful enough to repel an entire swarm of dementors."

He allowed a beat of silence to settle before continuing, his gaze never wavering. "And while no spell comes without risk, I am confident in my casting. I do not act without precision."

Across the courtroom, a few murmurs stirred once more—soft enough not to be disruptive, but loud enough to reach Fudge’s ears. The Minister's nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply through his nose, an obvious attempt to tamp down the white-hot frustration building in his gut.

He exhaled, slow and loud, as if trying to rid himself of the indignity of being outmaneuvered in his own courtroom. "Very well... Lord Fae," he said, drawing out the title like it soured on his tongue. "You’ve made your case."

He looked around at the chamber with thinly veiled impatience, scanning the benches of Wizengamot members and council seats. "Does anyone wish to pose a final question to the accused before we proceed to a vote?"

A long pause followed, heavy with tension. No one moved. No hands raised. Not a single voice broke the silence.

Fudge gave a sharp, noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and straightened in his seat. "Very well," he said coldly. "Let the voting begin."