Then Harry and Tom rose to their feet. Thank Merlin, the parsel-glamours the Dark Lord used still held. They would have to ease them out at one point, lessen their potency until one day Tom could enter the Wizengamot with his own face. Since he has always been notorious for preventing photographs and drawings of himself, a few years should be enough. Today, his cover was intact, and his voice was like ice when he declared, "I accuse Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore of attempted murder of me and my housemate Lord Potter." Disgusted, he looked down at the old man. "Take him away."