Trials and Tribulations

Harry jolted awake. He blinked, staring straight ahead to get his bearings. He frowned and reached out towards the bedside table, groping for his glasses, before placing them on his nose and blinking everything into focus.

Just a dream, it was just a dream.

He slowed his breathing, calming himself. He was in his room. His small, untidy room in the London apartment. Harry let out his breath in a long puff of air and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Getting up he reached for his robe, hanging on the back of the door, before walking out of the room towards the kitchenette in search of caffeine.

Harry had graduated from Hogwarts two and a half years ago and entered the Ministry of Magic as an Unspeakable. This was of course, something of an impossibility, as almost every wizard from here to Timbuktu knew who he was. ‘The Boy Who Lived’ - and lived - and lived - and just kept on living. Harry had faced Lord Voldemort time and again before the final battle, a year after his graduation. Ever since then he had tried to keep as quiet as possible, even going so far as to live in a Muggle flat.

Harry flicked on the kettle and started searching for a clean cup and the coffee jar. The war had had its effects on everyone, particularly after Dumbledore’s death. Many people had simply believed his principles had died with him and gave up hope – but a select few, 'The Order of the Phoenix', had kept on fighting in his name. The Death Eaters had tried to carry on after Voldemort’s second and final downfall but eventually they had been rounded up and placed in Azkaban, while the Trials were organised.

The kettle clicked off as the water boiled and Harry poured the steaming liquid into his cup. Stirring it slowly with a silver teaspoon, Harry looked out the window as the winter sun rose over Southeast London. He saw a small tawny coloured owl fly around the neighbouring high-rise and on towards his window. He dropped the teaspoon into the stainless steel sink and leant forward to open the window.

The small owl flew in and landed on the kitchen work surface. Harry hunted around for a few minutes for some coins, before depositing them in the owl’s small leather pouch and picking up the rolled-up paper he had left. He unrolled it and glanced briefly at the headlines.

The mug smashed on the floor and Harry swore loudly before rushing to the newly installed fireplace, the newspaper left forgotten.

The headline glared up at the ceiling. ‘Hogwarts Professor on Trial for Death Eater Atrocities’.

*****

Harry shook his head gently, squeezing his eyes shut as the blood rushed to his head, making him dizzy for a moment. He opened his eyes and realised he was back in the Headmaster’s office. He spun quickly, and saw Professor Dumbledore sitting behind his desk.

“Professor, I’m sorry, I just…”

Dumbledore silenced him with a wave of his hand. “Do not distress yourself, dear boy. I had actually placed the penseive here in hopes that you would anticipate me. Your inquisitive nature is quite predictable, you know, Harry.”

Harry just blinked in mild surprise, before blushing slightly. “Did you want to talk to me about Professor Snape, then?”

“Yes. And no.” Dumbledore's bright blue eyes twinkled enigmatically. “My intention was merely to make you aware of what may lie before you, Harry. The time will come when what you have just seen will be important. I wished to acquaint you with some sources of information. Do you understand?”

Harry frowned. “I’m not sure,” he replied honestly.

Dumbledore just chuckled quietly to himself. “You will, in time. Now, off you go to your common room. I believe that masters Weasley and Weasley have taken certain sugary products from the kitchens, and are planning on starting the school year as they mean to go on.”

Harry gave the Headmaster a somewhat mystified smile, before nodding once and turning to leave.

“Oh, and Harry?” Harry turned on the spot. “Severus can be a difficult person to deal with sometimes. The key is perseverance – never give up on someone, Harry, no matter how hopeless the case looks.”

Harry frowned at the comment once again, and wandered back to the common room, his head filled with images of courtrooms and prison cells.

*****

“Harry, please. Try to calm down…” Hermione puffed as she doubled her pace to keep up with her old school friend.

“Calm down? Calm down? They’ve gone and arrested the man who saved my life. Who fought his arse off beside both of us in the final battles and you want me to calm down?” Harry’s pace didn’t falter once as they both swept through the familiar corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry towards the Headmistress’ office.

Hermione reached out and grabbed his arm, spinning him to face her. “Yes, Harry, I’m telling you to calm down. You’re no use to anyone in this state.”

Harry glared down at the current Head of Gryffindor, before looking down at the floor. “Sorry,” he mumbled and started off again at a slower pace. “But really, Hermione, it’s ridiculous. They’ll be arresting Ron next.”

“Maybe not as ridiculous as all that, Harry. Severus did go back to the Death Eater meetings – and yes, I know he did it at Dumbledore’s request but Professor Dumbledore is no longer here to verify that. You can’t honestly say you thought there were going to be no questions asked?”

“Well, maybe not but chucking him straight into Azkaban. It’s as though they’ve already decided…”

“They haven’t decided anything, Potter.” Harry and Hermione’s heads snapped to the side as they realised that they had reached the gargoyle entrance to Professor McGonagall’s office. “I was wondering how long it would take you to turn up. Well, you had better come upstairs then, both of you.” Minerva McGonagall turned abruptly and led the way towards the spiral staircase leading up to the main office.

Very little had been changed since Dumbledore’s days. It was the same large, airy room, lined with shelves of books, cabinets and portraits of the past Headmasters and Mistresses. Harry’s eyes went immediately to the new addition to the line of portraits, and he was mildly comforted by the sight of Dumbledore’s oddly solemn face and twinkling blue eyes. McGonagall gestured for them both to sit before her desk and offered tea. Both declined.

Harry dropped Hermione’s copy of the morning’s Daily Prophet onto the desk, having briefly glanced over the article on the way to the office.

“You’ve read that, I suppose?” Harry asked, clenching his hands on the arms of the armchair.

“Briefly, yes. I knew, of course, before the newspapers.”

Harry leant forwards over the desk to quote part of the article. “’Teachers and Governors alike were shocked yesterday evening when Potions Master and Head of House at Hogwarts, one Professor Severus Snape, was taken into the custody of the Dementors by order of the Ministry of Magic. He is charged with being an active Death Eater during the War Years and illegally using the Unforgivable curses. Professor Snape is not a newcomer to Azkaban, having been imprisoned there during the trial period after You-Know-Who’s first downfall under similar charges. However, he was acquitted after testimony for his actions was given by Professor Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sroc., Chf Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, Golden Phoenix for death in line of duty). After Dumbledore’s tragic death in acts of service to the cause, raises the question as to whether Professor Snape will be vouched for again.’ And so on, and so forth. They don’t really think we’ll just sit back and let him rot, do they?”

“I think they are hopeful, yes.” Professor McGonagall folded her arms primly and her mouth hardened into a sharp line. “There’s more though, Potter.”

Harry sighed heavily and sat back in his seat. He smiled half-heartedly. “Don’t tell me. They’ve decided to arrest Hagrid because he bashed up a Death Eater.”

“Not quite, Potter. The Ministry has decided to change the way the trial will be conducted. Fudge has decreed that a colleague of a defendant may not conduct their defence – according to him it would mean a biased defence.”

“Surely that’s the point of having a defence in a trial?” Hermione managed somehow to look bemused and angry at the same time.

“You would think so, but whether logical or not it is the way things must be done. I cannot conduct the defence, and neither can Professor Granger.”

“You won’t need to.”

Professor McGonagall’s eyebrows raised slightly but she didn’t seem surprised. “Go on.”

“I’ll do it,” Harry continued, “I’m in the perfect position – I’ve got access to all the past case files, I can get over to Azkaban without any raised eyebrows and I…”

“Don’t know the first thing about legal cases, Harry!” Hermione half laughed and shook her head. It was just like Harry to run into something, guns firing, without thinking about the logistics.

Harry’s smile was a cross between sweet and evil. “Which is why you’re going to help me, Hermione – the ministry need never know.”

Hermione thought briefly about arguing, protesting, pointing out that it would be against the law for her to help. Then she heard a little voice in her head: Resistance is futile!

She took one last look at Harry and the famed ‘puppy dog eyes’ expression, before nodding her ascent. A similar inner voice seemed to be whispering ‘you’ll regret it‘.