Trials and Tribulations

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement’s holding cells were hardly five star hotel rooms. There were no large leather sofas, roaring fireplaces or four-poster beds. However, when compared to the cold, damp iron and concrete boxes that were the Azkaban cells, Severus Snape found the white washed room he had been placed in really quite pleasant. It even had a window. True, the view was of a grubby looking area of London and there were bars on the outside but it was a change from having nothing to stare at but grey walls, rust and Dementors.

Snape laid back on his bunk and glared up at the ceiling, following cracks in the plaster with his eyes. His usually immaculate black robes had now been lived in for three days and were not up to his usual standard. The left sleeve had been ripped open in the scuffle when the Aurors had arrested him. He had been running through the Forbidden Forest in an attempt to escape custody for at least a few more days. They had hit him with the leg-locker curse and as he fell the sleeve had been ripped on a sharp broken branch.

“Visitor, Snape.” The gruff voice of the prison warden called out to him, before the methodical clanking of the door being unlocked and opened.

Snape sat up and turned to lean back against the wall. He watched as the white door opened to admit a tall, well-built young man with round-framed glasses and messy black hair. In his hand he carried a thin, dark red file. He wore a worried, nervous expression and his eyes darted quickly around the room before finally resting on Snape as the door slammed shut behind him. “Hello, Professor.”

Snape inclined his head by way of greeting. “Potter.” The newcomer stayed by the door, looking as though he didn’t quite know what to do. Snape sighed irritably, “I presume you have a purpose for being here other than staring at me like a gormless idiot?”

This snapped Harry out of his shock and his features quickly turned sharp. “You know exactly why I’m here. They would have told you before taking you from Azkaban.” The only reply Harry got was a sharp nod. He walked over to the bunk. “Budge up then, we need to get some things sorted.”

Snape complied, all be it muttering under his breath and turned his head to look at Harry. He looked tired and stretched. “I hope you know what you are doing, Potter. I should hate to think my future lay in the hands of an unprepared fool trying to play boy-hero.”

“Not today Snape, I’m not in the mood.” Harry didn’t even look up as he said this, quickly flicking through the file in his lap to find the testimonies that had been written. He couldn’t remember when he had stopped being afraid of Snape and started playing him at his own game. It had simply happened one day. Neither man had made any comment on it, although both had noticed the occurrence with some pride – one in himself and the other in the fact that his pupil was finally beginning to learn something.

“Right. This is what I’ve got so far. We, I should say, I’ve had some outside help.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Playing against the rules, Potter? I am proud.” Despite the sarcastic comment he looked over Harry’s shoulder and scanned over the documents in front of him. There was a list of names, with some crossed through and some with little ticks or notes written next to them. These were presumably people who would testify on his behalf. Beside the list was a sheaf of parchment filled with the neat script of Remus Lupin. Snape did not bother to read it – he could guess its contents.

“I am but keep quiet about it unless you want to have you fortieth birthday party in an Azkaban cell with a Dementor doing a strip-o-gram.” Harry looked up at the older man and smiled ruefully. “As I was saying, my…associate and I have compiled a list and record of people who will testify for you. We have to hand this in to whoever’s put in charge of the trial. I’m going to move for a dismissal tomorrow, if that’s all right with you. Say that we’ve already been through this once when Voldemort first fell, produce transcripts from the last trial and the letters you and Dumbledore wrote to each other. It probably won’t work, but it’s worth a try.”

“Indeed.”

“You don’t have anything to declare, I suppose? Nothing I should know? No nasty little tricks up your sleeve?”

“None.”

“Good,” Harry dropped the folder to the floor with a sharp slap and turned where he sat to look at his former teacher. “Are you holding up OK? I mean, obviously you’re in Azkaban and it’s not a sunny break at a sea side resort but…are you doing all right in there?”

Snape’s lips twitched in what could almost be described as a smile. “It is not perhaps how I would choose to spend my time but at least I am not surrounded by adolescents with raging hormones who want to do nothing more than snog in the corridors.” He looked at Harry and wasn’t as surprised as he should have been to see a look of worry on the boy’s face. “I am doing fine, Potter. A short spell in Azkaban will do me no harm.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look fine. You look exhausted and half mad.”

“Yes, well being in a prison surrounded by screaming lunatics will do that to you. While we’re at it, you look like you decided to go three rounds with a hippogriff. Rough night last night?” Snape smirked at Harry as he blushed and looked away, thoroughly delighted that he could still get to the boy.

Harry shook his head. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Just weird dreams, that’s all. Nothing you need to worry about,” Harry intercepted Snape as he drew breath to say something, “and yes, I’ve tried Dreamless Sleep Potion. It doesn’t work. I’ll just have to live with it like everyone else.”

“Five more minutes, Mr Potter,” came the gravely voice from outside.

Harry jumped and lowered his voice. “Has he been there the whole time?”

Snape glanced at the door. “Probably. Why?” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Worried that our secret will get out?”

This time Harry would not rise to the bait, and replied in German, “Ja. Sie sollen nicht wissen, dass Hermione mir hilft, sonst werde ich hiervon ausgeschlossen und sie wird bestraft.” (“Yes. I don’t want them to know Hermione’s helping me or I could get chucked off of this and she could get a fine.”)

Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry’s language change but replied to him in German, “Lass uns hoffen, dass der Wachter kein Deutsch versteht.” (“Let us hope that the warden does not understand German,”) Snape sighed and reverted back to English. “You should go now.”

“Ich erinnere mich an das letzte Mal, als Sie das sagten…”

“I remember the last time you said that…”

Snape growled warningly, “Potter…”

“One minute, Mr Potter.”

Harry leant forward to pick up Snape’s file. When he came up, his eyes rested on the older man’s left fore arm, where the Dark Mark had once been. When Voldemort had finally died, the Death Eaters’ dark marks had disappeared leaving no trace of the ugly red tattoo. Harry brushed his thumb gently over the un-marked skin. Snape flinched away from the touch as though he had been burnt. “Hände weg, Potter!”

Harry mentally translated the phrase, “Hands off, Potter!”

Their eyes connected briefly, before Harry stood and left through the bright white door, leaving Snape alone in the cell, his own fingers brushing over the skin where his mark had once been. He lay back on the bunk, closed his eyes and allowed his mind to flow over the past.

*****

The Great Hall stood as it had for the past thousand years. The enchanted ceiling threw starlight down upon the group gathered there and a hundred floating white candles flickered warm yellow light into the darkest corners. The four long house tables were pushed back against the walls, the head table with them. Now, in the centre of the large, airy room stood a circular wooden table. On its top was painted a large white star, with a chair placed at each point - eleven seats in total.

Snape was already sitting in his place, watching the small groups of people surrounding the table. Bill, Charlie and Arthur Weasley stood together talking in hushed whispers. Near the head seat of the table, Dumbledore was talking to McGonagall, looking rather more grave than he usually did. Off to another side stood Black, Lupin, Arabella Figg and Mundungus Fletcher. Snape rolled his eyes. It would seem very little had changed between one war and another. The only difference was the small, scrawny boy sitting opposite him looking rather out of place. He was staring fixedly down at his hands as though in deep thought and purposely avoiding everyone else’s eyes.

“Shall we all get on?” Albus Dumbledore sat down beside Snape and nodded to him with a reassuring smile.

Harry looked up abruptly and watched as the small groups of people moved to sit around the table. Black sat to his right and Arthur Weasley to his left. Snape nodded sharply to Arabella Figg as she sat beside him before turning his attention to Dumbledore.

“Friends,” Albus began, smiling warmly, “I find it a marvellous experience to have you all together here with me once again. I can only be sorry it is not under better circumstances that we are re-united. We, all of us know why we are here. You are all my most trusted friends. You have been called on before to help me at times of dire need – and now I find myself asking for your help again. Voldemort has returned,” there was a soft muttering around the table at this statement which Snape found slightly irritating. “We must start planning and preparing for the war that is inevitable. Firstly, however, let us acquaint each other with what has taken place so far. Harry, I am sorry but I must ask you to speak of the events after the third task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.”

All eyes fell on Harry. He looked up and gave Dumbledore a worried look, before taking a deep breath and relating the story, all the while staring at the tabletop. He told the group how Voldemort had killed Cedric Diggory without a backward glance, how he had used Harry’s own blood and Wormtail’s arm to bring himself back to full power. It was here that Dumbledore interrupted him, although Snape knew that there was more to the story.

“Thank you Harry, that is all we need to hear.” Potter smiled weakly at Dumbledore and seemed to pull himself together a little more. “Now we shall hear from Severus. I sent you back to Voldemort the same day, Severus. What news do you have?”

Now it was Snape’s turn to stare with great interest at a fleck of peeling paint on the tabletop. “I was accepted after much…persuasion, back into the fold. Almost all those who were found innocent at the last trials were there, except for Karkaroff who fled when the Dark Mark first burnt,”

“And you were right there alongside them, Snape,” The Potions Master looked up sharply to see Sirius Black’s mocking eyes boring into him. He glowered back.

“Sirius, kindly allow our friend to continue. You will have time to argue later, but just now we can do without it.”

Snape thanked the Headmaster silently, before returning to his story. “Several of the Death Eaters have children here – Lucius Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, the Parkinsons – therefore it is of the utmost importance that whatever is said or decided in these meetings stays between us alone. Hogwarts may be safe at the moment, but it is full of spies. I have no doubt that these children will feel…obliged to follow in their parents’ footsteps.”

“We know this, Severus. If you would continue.”

“At the moment Voldemort is not overly concerned with regaining his former grip over the wizarding community. He is more concerned with Potter,” Snape’s eyes flicked upwards to gorge the young man’s reaction. He was still glaring at the table as though it had fed him a cutting insult, but Snape noticed the clench of his jaw. “Voldemort really is not the sanest of people and I feel that he sees the boy as something of a project. He certainly will not continue until he has proved that no man may stand in his way. I think it would be advisable, Albus, to send the boy into hiding.”

At this Harry did look up with something like horror. “Professor Dumbledore, no. I don’t want to hide from him and he won’t try and get me if I stay at Hogwarts…will he?”

Dumbledore sighed heavily, “Harry, Hogwarts is protected with many wards and some great wizards and witches. I cannot, however, say that it is unbreakable.”

“Dumbledore, consider what happened the last time we tried to put a family into hiding. The Fidelius Charm is not infallible and you do not truly know who you can and cannot trust any more. I agree with Harry. He’s safer here where we can all keep an eye on him.” Sirius rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder and smiled down at him. Harry returned the smile weakly. “I think he should stay here during the holidays as well. I wouldn’t trust those Muggles not to sell him off to a Death Eater for a sickle.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Very well, Sirius. As Harry’s Godfather I trust you to know what is best for him. Harry may stay here for the rest of the holidays. There will always be someone here – either myself, Minerva or Severus. I am sure we shall find something for him to do. If, as you say Severus, there is no immediate concern of Voldemort trying to take back Hogsmeade, then perhaps we have a little more time to plan than I had anticipated. Did he mention Azkaban?”

“Only that he wishes to have those who were imprisoned returned to him. I did not hear him mention the Dementors but if he is opening Azkaban he must surely desire their return to his service.”

Dumbledore nodded his agreement. “We shall plan around that eventuality. Now, however, let us all take a little time. We each of us need rest and time for this all to sink in. I thank you all once again for coming and hope you will all stay a short while before going to do what must be done. Now, if you will excuse me,” Dumbledore stood, as did everyone and walked towards the door. At length everyone left, leaving the Great Hall empty.

*****

Severus Snape enjoyed Hogwarts best at night, when he could walk the silent halls without constant chattering and crowds of teenagers distracting him from the castle’s beauty. He often walked at night when insomnia plagued him. There was something calming about the soft glow of the candles and the earth colours of various tapestries.

Tonight his feet had taken him to the Great Hall. He entered and looked up at the ceiling. The night was not entirely clear and the starlight turned the scattered clouds silver. Snape allowed himself a private smile.

His gaze lowered to the empty round table. No, not empty. Snape frowned, seeing that one of the eleven chairs was occupied. A small boy with a seeker’s build, a mop of unruly black hair and round-framed glasses sat in one of the seats, staring up at the sky.

The boy obviously had not noticed his presence and Snape did not want to be noticed that night. He turned and walked silently back towards the door.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

The softly spoken voice stopped Snape in his tracks. Even in the great silence of the hall, the familiar voice sounded smaller than usual. Even…scared?

“They never change, they never go away. They just stay the same and look down on us and watch without really caring. Sometimes I wish people were more like stars. I bet Orion never wanted to kill Pegasus just because it’s a constellation of an animal rather than a person.”

Snape turned around slowly, wondering if Potter actually knew who he was talking to. He followed the boy’s gaze and stared up at the ceiling. He sighed heavily, “War is not a time to wish that things would be different, Potter. It is a time to see them for what they are.”

“Have you ever been afraid, Professor?”

The simply asked question made Snape frown and look at the boy. “All my life, Potter. But fear is something that can be ignored – that must be ignored, or it will consume us.”

Potter turned to look at him slowly and Snape noticed that there were tracks of silver running down his cheeks, as though the stars had been dripping mercury on him from above. “What are you afraid of?”

Snape considered answering for a split second. He did not know why but there was something about the way the boy looked at him with tears running down his face and yet without shame. He was so open, seemingly without knowing the fact, or perhaps without knowing how rare it was. He had never seen anyone so vulnerable and yet with such obvious strength and Snape felt drawn to him – a sudden desire to be like him.

Snape turned away from him again. “You should be in bed, Potter. Wandering around the school at night is not safe. Go back to your common room.”

He heard the scrape of the chair drawing back and heard his footsteps as he drew nearer. The Potions Master wondered if the boy would leave him with a parting remark, but no. He just walked straight past him and up the steps.

*****

“Are you ready?”

“Am I buggery!”

Hermione sighed in exasperation. “Just remember what I said. Move for dismissal on the grounds of the previous case and the obvious number of people here to vouch for him. Use you initiative. Hell, use your charm, you know you’ve got it in abundance.”

Harry wasn’t sure whether to look indignant or gratified. “Thank you…I think.”

Hermione smiled at him, before her focus landed over his shoulder and she frowned. “What’s Ron doing here?”

Harry’s eyes widened, and he looked over his shoulder to see Ron walking towards them, grinning and waving. “Ah. Now, I probably should have mentioned that…”

“Hi there, Harry, Hermione. What are you doing here? Come to lend support?”

“Um, not exactly. Listen, Ron I know I should have said something when we were talking before, but…”

“Oh, looks like they’re ready. You can tell me later, can’t you Harry?” Ron grinned, clapped his old school friend on the back and walked through the heavy oak doors into the dungeon courtroom, where people had started filing out from the last trial.

Harry smiled weakly as Ron left and shrugged at Hermione. “I tried to tell him.”

“Tell him what, Harry?” Hermione was looking more than slightly suspicious.

“Oh, um…He doesn’t know that I’m doing this,” Harry indicated the file in his hand containing his notes for the hearing.

“Well, it shouldn’t matter too much. He’s here to sit in on the hearing, right?” Hermione’s eyes narrowed as Harry tried to avoid eye contact. “Right?”

“Um, actually, Ron’s presence is more…uh…official. He’s, um…He’s in charge of the prosecution.”

Harry winced as Hermione blustered, “The prosecution? He’s here to try and convince them to lock him up? Ron? Our Ron?”

Harry made the universally recognised hand gesture for ‘keep it down, people are staring’. “Look, he didn’t know we were going to be defending him. It’s not his fault if he was assigned to a case, is it?” Harry thought it was better, at this moment, not to mention the delight with which Ron had given him this news.

Hermione sighed heavily and had her hands balled into fists. “Well, I suppose you’re right but he could have refused, couldn’t he? Oh, well, it’s too late now. Let’s just hope he hasn’t changed much since school and it’ll be a walk over!”

Harry was surprised to see such a vindictive smile on Hermione’s lips. He rather thought this trial would be as much pay back for her and her years of telling Ron to do more research on his projects, as it would be for Ron and his years of cutting insults and bad grades in Potions.

Harry offered Hermione his arm and she took it, smiling. They walked into the cold, half-darkness of the courtroom. He noticed Hermione looking around the room. She, of course, had never seen the large underground chamber, lit by fiery torches; its tiered wooden benches and dark stone walls; its unfathomably high ceiling and enchanted chair that chained anyone who sat in it.

“I’ll have to go down to the bottom. You’d better stay up here. Look, Professor McGonagall’s over there.”

Hermione nodded and squeezed his arm reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Harry. It’ll all be just fine. If all goes well, he’ll be out by this afternoon.”

He stood and watched for a moment as Hermione sidled across the room to the bench where most of the faculty of Hogwarts seemed to be sitting, along with Charlie Weasley and Remus Lupin. Harry took a deep breath and started to make his way down towards the front. He had spotted Ron’s bright red hair as soon as they had entered. He was nodding to officials and smiling and chatting. Harry wondered briefly if Hermione was right. Ron seemed awfully sure about himself, and he had obviously sat in on trials like this before.

It’s too easy. There must be a catch.

Harry had just sat down and arranged his notes on the bench in front of him when a loud bang resounded through the chamber.

“I, Harold Fictus, Minister for Magical Law Enforcement, call this court into session. The time is thirty-two minutes past three. Let the hearing for Professor Severus Aquila Snape commence. Who prosecutes against this man?”

Ron stood up from his seat. “Ron Weasley of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” Harry watched him grin up at his brother before sitting down again. He also caught the small frown Charlie gave him.

“And who stands in his defence?”

“Harry Potter of the Department of Mysteries.”

A wave of hushed whispering swept around the room. He barely heard Ron gasp ‘What?’ before sitting down again and studiously ignoring everyone else’s eyes upon him.

“Very good. Of what is this man accused?”

An official looking, plump middle-aged man who was sitting opposite them intoned in a grave voice, “Of improper use of the Unforgivable Curses, of being a follower of the Dark Lord as one of his Death Eaters and of abuse against a minor in his care.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. Child abuse?! They’re accusing him of child abuse? When did this happen?

He flicked through his notes, only half listening to what was happening around him. What he did hear however, was that the minister seemed as surprise as he.

“Abuse against a minor? I have no record of this accusation. Weasley, explain yourself.”

Ron stood up and cleared his throat, looking sheepish. “I apologise Minister, but we only confirmed that we had a witness who would testify to this accusation half an hour ago. It was a late addition to the charges.”

“Really Weasley, this is most irregular…”

“And most unfair,” Harry stood up and faced Fictus. “I was not aware that this charge was to be raised against my…client and therefore have not had access to the evidence or time to prepare a proper defence for this particular charge.”

He saw Ron frowning at him out of the corner of his eye, but would not allow it to distract him. “Again, I apologise, Minister. However, now that we have definite proof, such a severe accusation cannot be ignored and cannot be delayed.”

“Very well,” Fictus said, “Mr Potter, you will be granted an extra two days to prepare your defence for this charge and to acquaint yourself with the evidence that Mr Weasley has gathered, along with any additional witnesses he may be calling. You both have your witness lists to hand, I presume?”

Both muttered in the affirmative and handed their lists to an official. “Mr Potter, I am presuming, under the circumstances, you would like to revise your opening speech?”

“Yes, Minister.”

“Then opening speeches will be saved for the trial, which will take place two days from today at nine-thirty AM.” Fictus banged his hammer again. “Court is adjourned. And no more surprises Mr Weasley, thank you.”

Harry stood, gathering his notes back together. Hermione was dodging her way through the crowd towards him, and journalists were asking him questions, but he really couldn’t have cared less. He just wanted to get back to the holding cell and find out what the hell Snape had been hiding from him.

He was about to do just that, when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. “So. Siding with the enemy, are you?”