Chapter 2: I Am Guilty

“Pureblood families!”

A voice suddenly shouted from the crowd like wildfire spreading across dry grasslands. The cry grew louder and louder as more wizards raised their fists in fervent agreement.

In an instant, the anger surged like a wave, sweeping through the entire bar.

Seeing this, Morris sneered coldly, nodding with satisfaction.

“They claim to be members of the wizarding society, but what is the reality?”

“Whether now or in the future, they do not belong to this society, nor are they needed!”

“Look at what they have done!”

“In the past, they helped our enemies kill our loved ones and destroy our homes!”

“Today, they continue to plunder our wealth, break apart our families, and steal the future we leave for our children!”

He stepped forward, his voice booming like thunder: “Friends, I can tell you with full responsibility, this is a war!”

“A war that is about to erupt!”

The crowd below was stirred to a fever pitch; some waved their wands, others shouted hoarsely.

Standing before the boiling crowd, Morris raised his right arm high and yelled:

“We must unite! Only by standing together can we make those parasites pay the price they deserve!”

“Yes, this path may demand sacrifices, and we will endure pain, but the ultimate victory will be ours!”

“So here I call upon everyone—”

“Let us wage war against them and seize everything that rightfully belongs to us!”

At that moment, Sean put down his pen, staring blankly at the man named Burn Morris standing at the bar.

In that instant, the frail figure seemed wrapped in flames, radiating an intense heat that spread through the body.

Sean took a deep breath and glanced around—he saw wizards who were usually calm to the point of numbness, now each wearing expressions of anger and fanaticism.

Some waved their wands, others shouted loudly.

All the long-suppressed emotions were torn open and spilled out by this man named “Morris.”

But Sean was not completely swept up by the fervor.

His gaze returned to Morris, to those eyes burning with rage and that almost fanatical posture, stirring a faint unease within him.

He lowered his head and looked at his notebook again, where the last sentence he had written read: “Burn Morris—madman, prophet, or the spark of change?” He hesitated for a moment, then crossed it out and wrote: “Burn Morris—the man who ignited the flame.”

Indeed, this was Sean’s first time seeing Morris.

But he never imagined that the next close encounter with him would be a month later at a hearing in the Wizengamot Court.

...

One month later.

July 30, 1990.

London, England, Ministry of Magic.

Tenth floor, Wizengamot Courtroom.

Sitting in the back row, Sean Phillips quietly observed everything in the hall.

The courtroom buzzed with voices, filled with whispers, murmurs, and occasional coughs, creating an oppressive clamor.

This ancient courtroom had never seemed so crowded; even the corners rarely trod by anyone were packed tightly.

Yet at this moment, whether members of the Wizengamot or wizards in the gallery, all eyes were focused on the center of the bench.

There, a man was tightly bound in chains, his head bowed, looking even more downtrodden and haggard than before.

Burn Morris—the man who had ignited the storm in the Hog’s Head pub—now stood at the center of the trial for “breach of secrecy laws.”

Sean’s eyes flickered slightly, a complex regret passing through his heart.

In the past month, Morris’s name had become the centerpiece of all newspapers and conversations.

Through his reports on Morris, Sean had finally let off steam at the newspaper office, silencing that obnoxious Skeeter for a while.

From Hogsmeade to London, from small pubs to Diagon Alley meetings, Morris had delivered impassioned speeches time and again.

However, this wave of fanaticism inevitably reached its end.

Three days ago, Morris was arrested on the spot by Aurors during a public rally for “breach of secrecy laws.”

When the news broke, the entire wizarding world was shaken.

Some called him a pioneer of revolution; others labeled him a menace to society.

As a mere observer of all this, Sean understood better than anyone that this moment was almost inevitable.

“Is it Morris who failed,” he thought, “or is it that this world simply cannot tolerate his voice?”

Inside the hall, the trial began.

“Silence!”

Amelia Bones’s voice rang out.

With the Wizengamot’s Chief Justice “ill,” this high-profile hearing was temporarily presided over by her, the head of the Ministry of Magic’s Magical Law Enforcement Department.

Also present were Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge and Deputy Minister Dolores Umbridge.

Bones scanned the room, and when the noise completely subsided, she spoke slowly:

“The Wizengamot convenes today to hear the case of Burn Morris, charged with serious violations of international secrecy laws and multiple acts endangering the stability of the wizarding world.”

She paused, her tone growing sterner.

“Defendant, do you admit to these charges?”

Silence fell like a shroud; everyone held their breath, waiting for Morris’s answer.

But Morris only lifted his head, his weary eyes sweeping over every person present.

His gaze passed over Bones, Fudge, and even Umbridge, finally resting on Sean in the gallery.

At that moment, Sean suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.

For some reason, he felt as if he were part of this trial—as an observer, a whistleblower, and even a conspirator.

If not—

Then what was he?

Before Sean could ponder this profound question, Morris opened his mouth and forced out a sentence from deep within his throat.

“I am guilty.”

The simple reply froze the air instantly.

The wizards in the gallery whispered among themselves, while Bones on the bench frowned slightly, apparently surprised by the answer.

Fudge’s face flashed with barely concealed satisfaction, and Umbridge’s lips curled into her usual fake smile.

Bones cleared her throat and steadied the court’s order, then continued:

“Defendant, are you a pureblood wizard?”

Morris raised his head and replied with a faintly sarcastic question:

“Do you mean the family tree with my name on it, or the blood flowing through my veins?”

Bones’s expression stiffened briefly, but she quickly regained composure and pressed on:

“Were you ever expelled from Hogwarts for misconduct?”

Morris’s face remained unchanged as he slowly said:

“That was a voluntary leave of absence. I believe your records should be clear.”

Low murmurs rose again in the hall. Sean, sitting in the back row, felt his breathing tighten.

He seemed to... recall this man’s past.

In these years, very few wizards had been expelled from Hogwarts.

Bones’s voice grew colder:

“You are accused of serious violations of secrecy laws and have thus been labeled an enemy of the wizarding world. How do you respond?”

...

Upon hearing this, Morris finally revealed a cold smile.

His eyes swept across the bench, finally resting on Fudge and Umbridge.

“Enemy of the wizarding world? Is it me, or is it you?”

The entire hall fell silent again, all attention focused on the man bound in chains.

“If a thief steals your wallet, and you take it back, does that make you a thief?”

Before this question could stir a reaction, Morris continued.

“Nine years ago, Voldemort fell, and the war ended.”

“That should have been the start of our rebuilding, the moment we walked toward the light.”

He paused, staring directly at Fudge and Umbridge.

“But what about those officials who claimed to be our leaders? What did they do?”

“They secretly accepted bribes from pureblood families and halted their trials.”

“The pureblood families who waged war should have compensated us after their defeat. But where did those compensations go? Into whose pockets?”

“These so-called compensations became capital for their power and wealth, while those wizards who lost homes and loved ones in the war had to support each other through those hard times.”

“They were elected by wizards, enjoying the power ordinary wizards granted them, yet colluded and conspired with pureblood families.”

Morris’s voice echoed clearly in the silent hall.

“I ask you, is such behavior not a crime?”

He paused, his gaze slowly sweeping over the gallery and the bench before he spoke again:

“If you do not know, then let me tell you—this is the real crime!”

The hall fell into a profound silence, as if the air had been sucked away.

Fudge’s face darkened; angrily, he pointed at Morris and ordered Bones:

“Silence him. This is a court, not a platform for speeches.”

But Bones shook her head firmly, lightly tapping her gavel on the desk with a crisp sound.

“Let him continue.”

Morris was momentarily taken aback by her attitude but quickly regained his composure, nodding slightly before turning to the gallery, his gaze sweeping over the silent wizards.

His voice rose again:

“We only want to reclaim what was stolen from us nine years ago—rightfully and justly.”

“This is not provocation, not a crime; it is our basic right to resist an incompetent and corrupt Ministry of Magic.”

“If I am truly guilty,”

“Then my crime lies in defending the rights of ordinary British wizards.”

That last sentence ignited the long-suppressed emotions in the Wizengamot courtroom.

Some wizards in the gallery began murmuring softly.

They no longer spoke of Britain’s dreadful weather or the outcome of the trial; their sole topic was fairness.

Was the distribution system in wizard society, past and present, truly fair?

Fudge, furious, was about to stand and speak, his lips quivering slightly, but Umbridge quietly tugged his robe sleeve and whispered something in his ear, calming him momentarily.

Bones remained expressionless on the bench, her fingers gently tapping the desk as if pondering deeply.

After a moment, she raised her gavel and struck it heavily down, pronouncing:

“This court finds the defendant Burn Morris guilty.”

“Sentenced to five years’ imprisonment in Azkaban, but—”

Bones’s tone shifted.

“Parole will be possible after one year.”