Family Ties

He felt himself tumbling forward; falling rapidly until he landed on both feet, though he didn't fall over this time. He looked around and found he was in a dark rectangular room. In the middle was a chair, with chains that were rattling ominously. There were witches and wizards of all shapes, sizes and ages lining the walls - some looking grave, some angry.

Near the door there was a small section apart from the others. Seated in it were, among others, a tall black man and woman with long curly black hair piled on top of her head. She was holding a small child on her knees - a little boy, maybe a year old. There was also a young white man with red hair, looking devastated but angry and an older couple, the woman sobbing on her husband's shoulder.

Dean looked around; trying to spot anyone he might know, wondering whose memory this was. He saw Dumbledore - he looked almost identical to how he looked now, sitting near a raised podium. On the podium was someone else he recognised: Barty Crouch, who had overseen the Triwizard Tournament a year before until he had suddenly disappeared. He wondered if this was Dumbledore's memory. He found himself a seat in the small box where the young black couple and their child were sitting and waited for the trial to begin.

He didn't have to wait long before the large heavy door creaked open and the room temperature dropped sharply. Dean glanced around and saw Webster being dragged to the chair with the chains by two Dementors. He resisted the urge to take out his wand and shoot a Patronus at them, knowing in a memory it would make no difference.

The chains snaked around Webster until he was bound so tightly he could barely move as the Dementors glided out again and the atmosphere returned to normal. Barty Crouch called the trial to order.

"Jack Webster, you are charged with seventy counts of magical harm against various Muggle men and women; the torture and permanent incapacitation of thirteen wizards and witches; Imperiurising nineteen witches and wizards to commit acts of violence; and the murder of eight witches and wizards including Ministry workers Alan Landon, Dawn Sheldon and Gary Heaton. We will hear testimony from, among others, leading Ministry Legillimens July Jones. What do you have to say for yourself?"

His breathing inhibited by the chains, Webster spluttered, "I'd do it all again! Filthy Muggles! Protectors of those unworthy to walk in this world! My life for the Dark Lord!"

Dean felt hatred twist his heart and stomach uncomfortably. He wasn't even sorry... Not that I'm surprised, he is a lunatic, but he knew what he was doing. He wanted to stand up; shout, rave and do anything he could to inflict pain on this man. He changed the course of my life, who knows what my life could have been with my real father there.

He watched as a beautiful girl with jet black hair and startling violet eyes displayed pieces of something like video, projecting them from her wand. They reminded Dean of holograms, and the sound echoed around the room like the voice of God. Dean recognised some of the images as similar to those from the Memory Glass, as Webster tortured his father. He had to look away and caught sight of the black woman sitting over to his right.

She was staring fixedly at the images; tears visible on her face, clutching the child to her so he couldn't see or hear what was going on. The man beside her had a tight grip on her shoulders, though she gave no sign she knew he was there. The rest of the sound drained out of the room for Dean; he was transfixed by the woman, seized with a sudden suspicion.

He glanced between her and the images, trying to see past the injuries on Gary's face... The next of kin... his sister... Dean felt the weight of this knowledge sink in, his gaze drawn to the child clutched in her arms... He jerked out of his musings when Crouch's voice rang out once more. "All those in favour of a lifetime top security sentence in Azkaban with no chance of release?"

Dean glanced around the room and saw every hand in the air, some were shaking, some were crying, but they were all of one mind about what to do with this monster. "All opposed?" No one moved a muscle.

"Very well, I wish I could say I regret that there's no death penalty in our world any more, but death is too good for the likes of you." Crouch was almost spitting. Webster was dragged from the room, laughing maniacally. The sound echoed in Dean's heart, but his eyes were still drawn to the child on what he strongly suspected was his aunt's lap.

But he felt the familiar sucking sensation, drawing him up out of the Pensieve. He flipped over in mid air and landed hard on the floor of Dumbledore's office. His legs failed him and he sat down hard in the chair, putting his head in his hands. He heard various scraping and banging sounds as Dumbledore put the Pensieve away. He didn't move an inch, even when he heard Dumbledore sit down again. "Dean... Are you all right?"

Dean tried to get a grip on himself, dug his palms into his eyes and rubbed away the tears before he looked up. He looked at Dumbledore's kind old face, full of concern. He was ashamed to hear the croak in his voice. "Gina... that was Gina..."

Dumbledore nodded. "I assume you saw her name as your father's next of kin on the death certificate?" Dean nodded miserably.

"She wasn't actually married when Mr Heaton died, though she did marry shortly after."

Dean stared.

"Her married name is Gina Jordan."

Dean felt a riptide pulling at him, there was a roaring sound in his ears as he stared at Dumbledore, trying to focus. "Jordan... That... That was Lee Jordan on her knee?"

Dumbledore nodded gently. "Lee Jordan... Lee Jordan is my cousin?"

Dumbledore nodded again. "I have not, of course, informed him of this, I would strongly advise you to contact Mrs Jordan before you do anything. I do not know how much Mr Jordan knows of his uncle, or you."

Dean stared at his hands, wondering how on Earth you composed a letter like that.

"Did you ever wonder, Dean, why only you could access that particular Room?"

Dean looked up.

"But other people can! Seamus has been in there, so has Ginny and you have too!"

"Only once the door was already open. Did either of them attempt to open any of the drawers?" Dean remembered Seamus' attempt to get in, and that he always had to unlock the drawers himself when he entered.

"That is because only someone directly related to the person can view everything about a persons' life. Obviously, the most personal item in there is the Memory Glass, no one else but you would be able to see or feel anything about Gary Heaton through that Glass. Anyone else would see only smoke."

Just then, right as his feet, something huge and silvery floated up through the floor. Dean was so startled he fell off his chair, yelling in pain as he landed hard on his right knee. The huge silvery thing was a Patronus, a bat - with a wingspan of at least four feet. It rose gently up through the floor, flapped its wings and shot straight through Dumbledore, who had gotten to his feet. The Patronus dissolved, leaving silence and darkness in its wake.

Dumbledore looked suddenly terrified. Dean had never seen his headmaster look so scared, not even when Harry fell fifty feet from his broom, not when the Chamber of Secrets was open and attacking students, not even when Cedric Diggory had emerged from the third task dead.

Dumbledore looked up at Dean, shadows making him look very old and tired, but suddenly, there was a spark of anger in those blue eyes. "I am sorry, Mr Thomas, I must leave you. You can find your own way back to your Common Room and celebrate the end of your exams."

Dumbledore's voice was shaking slightly. He turned his back on Dean and walked past his desk to the perch where the phoenix Dean had seen last time was sitting, Dumbledore stroked its sleeping head with one finger, "Fawkes... we must go."

The bird opened an eye and thrummed a note gently, making Dean's heart lift in the process. It flexed its tail at Dumbledore, who grasped it and they vanished in a puff of smoke.