World Hopping With Gacha

As soon as James Moriarty (me) was brought into the trial room, I noted the sea of reporters. Cameras clicked furiously, and murmurs filled the air as I was escorted to the center of the courtroom. This was perfect for what I was about to do. The room was grand, with towering walls adorned with the Wizengamot's emblems. Beneath the polished wooden gallery sat members of the magical court, including Minister Cornelius Fudge, Dolores Umbridge, and Amelia Bones. My eyes lingered briefly on Dumbledore, who seemed to be here more to observe than to participate. The stage was set.

But I had prepared in advance. Before the trial, I struck a peculiar deal with ants using my Animal Speech ability. Yes, ants. Promising them sugar in exchange for their assistance, I had them infiltrate the Department of Mysteries—an unlikely and ingenious team. Their efforts bore fruit, bringing me documents that detailed every significant event the Ministry conveniently kept hidden. I had what I needed.

The trial commenced with Amelia Bones standing up. Her clear voice echoed in the chamber as she said, "Before we proceed, I would like to ask who will be representing you, Mr. Moriarty?"

"No one, Madam Bones," I replied calmly. "I will be representing myself."

Her eyebrow twitched slightly, but she nodded. "Very well. Ladies and gentlemen of the Wizengamot and citizens of wizarding Britain, today we gather to address the crimes committed by one William James Moriarty. Mr. Moriarty has requested that Veritaserum be used on him for this trial."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. This was the first step in my plan. Veritaserum—the ultimate truth potion which forced the mind to give out answers—was the Ministry's trump card, and I had asked for it myself. Why? Because I was immune. Thanks to my Mental Fortitude ability, the potion's effects would falter, but no one needed to know that.

An Auror approached with a small vial and carefully administered four drops into my mouth. Amelia Bones continued, "A total of four drops of Veritaserum have been given to the suspect in front of the Wizengamot. We shall now proceed."

Minister Fudge sat rigidly in his chair, clearly uncomfortable. Beside him, Dolores Umbridge's smug smile faltered slightly. They had no idea what was coming.

Amelia Bones's voice cut through the tension. "Mr. Moriarty, please state your name, age, and place of birth for the court."

I gave her a polite smile. "My name is William James Moriarty. I was born on April 1, 1968, in London."

Satisfied, she pressed on. "Mr. Moriarty, you stand accused of falsely accusing the Ministry of Magic without providing proof. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty," I said confidently, my voice steady and resolute. "And as for the accusations, I do indeed have proof. However, before I submit them, I have a question for the court."

The room tensed. Amelia Bones nodded. "Proceed."

I turned my gaze to Fudge, letting my words hang heavy. "My question is for Minister Fudge and Headmaster Dumbledore. Fifty years ago, the Chamber of Secrets was opened, resulting in the death of a student. The Ministry conducted a search and arrested Rubeus Hagrid, a half-giant, for allegedly opening the Chamber. His wand was snapped, and his education was stripped away. This time, however, there has been no search, no suspects apprehended. Why is that?"

A hush fell over the courtroom. Fudge's face turned a shade of crimson as he stammered, "W-Well, the circumstances are… different this time. We are… investigating, of course…"

"Investigating?" I interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "Forgive me, Minister, but does 'investigating' involve doing nothing while innocent students are petrified? Or is it only the lack of public outrage this time that's spared you from taking action?"

"Order!" Fudge barked, slamming his hand on the armrest. "This is not a platform for your baseless accusations, Mr. Moriarty!"

"Baseless?" I repeated, my voice rising slightly. "Then perhaps the court would like to hear what I've uncovered."

I took out the files that the ants had delivered. A few members of the Wizengamot leaned forward, their curiosity piqued. "These documents," I began, "Detail significant events that the Ministry has either ignored or failed to address adequately. But let's start with the Chamber of Secrets."

I opened the first file. "Fifty years ago, a student named Tom Riddle accused Hagrid of opening the Chamber of Secrets. Hagrid's crime? Keeping an Acromantula as a pet. But let's examine the facts: Acromantulas are dangerous, yes, but they do not possess the power to petrify or kill without leaving venom in a person body. The report by the St Mungo's stated no sign of Acromantula venom in the Girls body. So why was Hagrid—a mere student at the time—targeted?"

Murmurs broke out among the spectators. Fudge shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Because," I continued, "Tom Riddle needed a scapegoat. And the Ministry, in its infinite wisdom, chose to believe him without question. The real monster was never found. And now, fifty years later, it's back."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with interest, though his expression remained neutral. Amelia Bones's face, however, grew sterner.

"Mr. Moriarty," she interjected, "are you suggesting that the creature responsible for the attacks is the same as the one from fifty years ago?"

"Exactly," I replied. "The monster is a Basilisk, a creature that kills with direct eye contact and petrifies through reflections. And it has been residing within Hogwarts for a thousand years."

The courtroom erupted in gasps and whispers. Fudge's face contorted in anger.

"This is absurd!" he spluttered. "There is no proof of such a creature existing within Hogwarts!"

"No proof?" I echoed, narrowing my eyes. "Then how do you explain the victims? How do you explain the fact that all attacks occurred near reflective surfaces? And how do you explain the whispers some students reported hearing within the walls 50 years ago?"

I paused, letting the weight of my words sink in. "If the Ministry truly cared about the safety of its citizens, it would have conducted a thorough investigation. But instead, it has chosen to ignore the problem, just as it ignored Sirius Black."

The shift in the room's energy was palpable.

"Sirius Black," I repeated, "a man imprisoned in Azkaban without a trial. And yet, the Ministry saw fit to condemn him based solely on circumstantial evidence. So I ask you, Minister Fudge, how do you plead?"

The courtroom descended into chaos. Reporters scribbled furiously, and the Wizengamot's members exchanged hushed, anxious whispers. Fudge's face turned a deeper shade of red as he stammered incoherently.

Amelia Bones banged her gavel. "Order! Order in the court!"

When the noise subsided, she turned to me. "Mr. Moriarty, while your claims are compelling, they require further investigation. Do you have any additional evidence to support your accusations?"

"I do," I said, taking out another file. "This document details the events surrounding Sirius Black's imprisonment. It highlights the Ministry's failure to conduct a proper trial and its reliance on assumptions rather than facts. If Sirius Black was guilty, why not prove it in a court of law? Why resort to locking him away without giving him the chance to defend himself?"

---

"Why resort to locking him away without giving him the chance to defend himself?" I repeated, letting the words hang in the air. The courtroom fell silent. Eyes turned to Fudge, who was visibly sweating under the pressure. He glanced around, likely hoping someone would step in and rescue him, but no one did.

"I—uh—those were the procedures at the ti me of war," Fudge stammered. "The Ministry believed it was acting in the best interest of the public. And Hagrid was—well—he was different, wasn't he? A half-giant with a history of dangerous pets..."

I cut him off, my voice cold. "So being 'different' is enough to warrant a lifetime of punishment? No trial? No investigation into the truth?" I turned to the Wizengamot, my voice rising slightly. "Ladies and gentlemen, is this the standard of justice we uphold in wizarding Britain? To punish without proof and condemn without defense?"

The murmurs began again, louder this time. Rita Skeeter, seated among the reporters, scribbled furiously on her notepad. Cameras flashed, capturing the spectacle.

Amelia Bones raised a hand, silencing the crowd. "Minister Fudge, do you have any evidence to support your claims about Mr. Hagrid's guilt?"

Fudge opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly floundering. "The investigation was handled... poorly," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

I seized the moment. "Poorly? A life was destroyed because of this 'poor handling,' Minister. And now, fifty years later, the same Ministry sits idle while the Chamber of Secrets is opened again. Another student might die, and yet you do nothing."

Dumbledore, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "Mr. Moriarty, you seem to have a great deal of knowledge about these events. Might I ask how you came upon such information?"

I turned to face him, meeting his piercing gaze. "I do my research, Headmaster. Unlike some, I don't sit idly by and hope for the best while students are attacked under my watch."

A gasp rippled through the room. Dumbledore's expression didn't change, but I could see the faintest flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"Bold words, Mr. Moriarty," he said calmly. "But research alone cannot uncover every secret. Do you have proof to back your claims?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a stack of documents—copies of the records, testimonies etc. I handed them to Amelia Bones. "Here is everything I have uncovered. Reports from fifty years ago, detailing the Ministry's investigation—or lack thereof. Notes from Hogwarts staff at the time, expressing their doubts about Hagrid's involvement. And testimonies from those who knew Tom Riddle, the one who is also the real culprit behind the events of 1943."

Amelia scanned the documents, her expression growing graver with each page. Finally, she looked up. "These are... damning, to say the least. Minister Fudge, how do you respond to this?"

Fudge's face turned a deep shade of red. "This is outrageous! This—this man is trying to undermine the Ministry!"

I stepped forward, my voice cutting through the room like a blade. "Undermine the Ministry? No, Minister. I am trying to hold it accountable. The people of wizarding Britain deserve better than this."

The crowd erupted into applause, the sound echoing through the chamber. Fudge looked like he wanted to disappear into his chair.

Amelia Bones raised her hand again, silencing the room. "Enough. We will adjourn for today to review this evidence. Mr. Moriarty, you will remain in custody until further notice."

I nodded. "Of course, Madam Bones. I have no intention of running. The truth will speak for itself."

As I was escorted out of the chamber, I caught Rita Skeeter's eye. She gave me a sly smile, already imagining the headlines she'd write. "Moriarty vs. the Ministry" would be all over tomorrow's papers.

Later that day.

The dimly lit cell in the Ministry of Magic was quiet, save for the soft hum of the enchanted barrier that kept me inside. I sat on the simple cot provided, idly flipping through a book I had smuggled in with the help of a few resourceful ants. It wasn't the most thrilling way to spend an evening, but considering what lay ahead, I wasn't complaining.

A soft knock at the door broke the silence. The barrier shimmered for a moment before Albus Dumbledore stepped through, his presence as commanding as ever. He looked around the cell, his blue eyes taking in the sparse surroundings before settling on me.

"Mr. Moriarty," he said, his voice calm but firm. "May I have a word?"

I closed the book with a quiet snap and gestured to the lone chair opposite me. "By all means, Headmaster. Though I must admit, this is an unusual visit. What brings you to my humble abode?"

Dumbledore sat down, his hands resting on the top of his cane. He studied me for a moment, his gaze piercing yet unreadable. "You are an enigma, Mr. Moriarty. Your actions, your knowledge, your motives—they all defy easy explanation."

I smirked. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Headmaster. But I'm flattered nonetheless."

He ignored my quip and leaned forward slightly. "Tell me, how is it that you know so much about matters that even the Ministry struggles to comprehend?"

I leaned back against the wall, considering his question. This was a moment I had anticipated, though it required careful navigation. "Knowledge is power, Headmaster. And I have made it my business to acquire as much power as I can. But let's not play games. You're not here to admire my intellect. What do you really want to know?"

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly. "I want to know why you are doing this. Why expose the Ministry's incompetence? Why involve yourself in matters that do not concern you?"

I laughed softly. "Ah, the age-old question: why? Some would say it's for the greater good. Others might claim it's for power or revenge. But me? I'm doing it for fun."

His expression didn't change, but I could see the doubt in his eyes. He wasn't buying it, not entirely. "Fun," he repeated, his tone skeptical. "You expect me to believe that all of this—the trial, the revelations, the risks—is for your own amusement?"

I shrugged. "Believe what you like, Headmaster. But tell me, is my presence here really such a mystery? You've seen the state of the wizarding world. Corruption, ignorance, fear… It's a festering wound, and no one seems willing to clean it up."

Dumbledore's gaze softened, and for a moment, he looked almost weary. "The world is far from perfect, Mr. Moriarty. But tearing it apart piece by piece is not the way to heal it."

"No," I agreed, my tone turning serious. "But sometimes, you have to destroy what's rotten before you can build something better."

The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken truths. Finally, Dumbledore broke it."You know of them, dont't you? The Horcruxes of Tom."

"Some of them," I admitted. "The diary, the ring, the locket… They're not as elusive as one might think, and are quite easy to find once you know where to look that is."

Dumbledore's expression hardened. "And what do you intend to do with them?"

I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Destroy them, of course. One by one, until there's nothing left of Voldemort's soul but ashes."

For a moment, he said nothing. Then he nodded slowly. "If that is true, then perhaps we are not so different, you and I."

I chuckled. "Don't flatter yourself, Headmaster. You do what you do out of a sense of duty. I do it because… well, because it's the right thing to do. Not that I'd ever admit that to anyone else."

He tilted his head, studying me with renewed curiosity. "You say one thing, but your actions suggest another. Who are you, really, Mr. Moriarty? What is it that you truly want?"

I stood up and stretched, pacing the small cell. "What I want, Headmaster, is irrelevant. What matters is what needs to be done. And right now, what needs to be done is bringing down the corrupt and exposing the truth."

Dumbledore rose from his chair, his expression thoughtful. "You are a complicated man, Mr. Moriarty. But I will say this: if your intentions are as noble as you claim, then you have my support."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's awfully generous of you, Headmaster. But let's not pretend we're allies. You have your agenda, and I have mine."

He smiled faintly. "Perhaps. But sometimes, even opposing forces can work towards the same goal."

With that, he turned and left, the barrier shimmering back into place behind him. I watched him go, my mind racing. Dumbledore was no fool, and he would undoubtedly keep a close eye on me. But for now, I had planted the seeds of doubt and curiosity in his mind.

As the cell fell silent once more, I sat back on the cot, a small smile playing on my lips. The game was far from over, and the next move was mine.

---

Meanwhile,

After the trial the courtroom became a battlefield of chaos and revelations, but the aftermath brought something much darker for the Ministry of Magic. The trial of James Moriarty had turned the wizarding world's eyes toward their governing body's incompetence and corruption. As news articles flooded the Daily Prophet, people across Britain began questioning how long they had been living under the Ministry's lies.

Moriarty, back in his cell after the spectacle, smirked as he watched the events unfold from the enchanted mirror Garuda had conjured for him. "And so the pieces begin to fall," he said, reclining on the cot. Garuda perched nearby, cleaning his feathers.

"You think this will really collapse them?" the bird asked.

"It's already collapsing," Moriarty replied. "All I did was give it a push. The Ministry isn't designed to handle scrutiny. The rot is too deep."

The next day, the Wizengamot reconvened to try and salvage the situation, but the damage was done. Evidence of decades-long cover-ups, negligence, and the misuse of power surfaced, including details about the mishandling of Voldemort's rise and the wrongful imprisonment of individuals like Sirius Black.

People begun protesting outside the Ministry building in London. Wizards and witches of all ages came together, demanding accountability. Even the notoriously elusive goblins made statements criticizing the Ministry's greed and disrespect for magical creatures.

Inside the Ministry, tensions were high. Fudge and his advisors scrambled to maintain control. Dolores Umbridge, tried to enforce stricter laws to silence dissent, but this only fueled the outrage.

Amelia Bones, who had maintained a reputation for integrity, found herself at a crossroads. Though she had no love for Fudge's administration, she wasn't sure how to handle the brewing revolution.

Moriarty's trial had became a symbol of defiance. He had become a folk hero to some, despite being a mysterious figure whose motives were unclear. People admired his boldness in calling out the Ministry in public.

December 20th marked the climax of the unrest. Fudge, in a desperate move to save his position, declared martial law. Aurors were deployed to disperse crowds by force, but this backfired spectacularly. Civilians fought back, and a few sympathetic Aurors refused to carry out their orders, joining the protesters instead.

Amidst the chaos, a team of goblins, centaurs, and other magical creatures sympathizers broke into the Department of Mysteries and leaked classified documents detailing the Ministry's secret experiments and treaties. These revelations turned the public against the Ministry completely.

As the protests turned into riots, Moriarty's cell door mysteriously opened. Garuda chirped, "Time to leave, boss."

Moriarty stood, straightened his coat, and strolled out of the building amidst the pandemonium. He didn't bother hiding his face; no one would dare stop him now.

By the end of the day, Cornelius Fudge had resigned, and the Ministry of Magic was in shambles.

The fall of the Ministry left a power vacuum that no one was ready to fill. The wizarding world faced uncertainty, but Moriarty had already moved on, planning his next move. Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts, troubled by the upheaval but knowing the old system needed to fall for something better to rise.

As for Moriarty, he left the shadows of the Ministry behind, whispering to Garuda, "On to the next game."

---

That day when the officials reached Moriarty's cell the only thing they found there was a Tarot card depicting a Patriot.

---Note

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