The Human Condition

Chapter Nine: Of Trials and Juries

Attorneys were Harry’s least favorite people. In the past few years he had managed to capture several dark wizards with varying degrees of sinister natures. He knew for a fact, having seen them commit acts of dark magic, that these wizards were definitely guilty as charged. But there was always a defense attorney who would take up the case, claim that Harry had been seeing things and was lying, and try to get the criminal off.

            He hated attorneys.

            Yet attorneys were the people who were supposed to save him from a life time in prison.

            Harry stared out of his window to see the smoggy London gazing back at him as he pondered his new and ironic situation. So far he had ‘scanned’ over three of four attorneys who Marc, his ex-psychologist, had recommended. Harry realized that he hated all of them when he recognized their faces. They had all been men who had defended the guilty and this offended Harry very deeply. He was not guilty. Why should someone who made a living defending guilty people defend an innocent man? It didn’t make sense to Harry so he sent them on their way.            The problem at hand was that it was now May and Harry’s trial was in one month time and he still was without legal defense. Sometimes he thought he should just defend himself, but then he would remember all the other so called “screw-balls” who had defended themselves, and he scrapped the idea entirely.

            No, he would have to find a worthy attorney without experience defending someone who was thoroughly guilty. The problem was there didn’t seem to be any in the world.

            There really wasn’t anything else to do other than consider legal representation. He was not allowed to leave his flat for anything. It had been several weeks that he’d been stuck in this confounded place with nothing to do. Ministry officials popped in every once in a while to make sure Harry was still alive and that he was still Harry. Apparently it was possible for the Switching Spell to be used. Some at the Ministry thought Harry’s soul was now in the body of someone else. Preposterous, but that’s what they believed.

            Dobby was the only one allowed out of the flat to do any of Harry’s business. This was limited, of course. He was allowed to shop for groceries. Other than that, nothing. But even though a tight security charm was placed on Harry’s residence, it didn’t mean that Dobby was trapped like Harry was. Dobby could disappear, reappear, and do whatever else he wanted without detection. Harry made sure Dobby never did any of this while under watch, but tipped him off that if an emergency did arise, Dobby should use the magic to seek outside aide.

            Supposedly if there was an emergency, however, the three or four security guards stationed outside Harry’s door would be able to assist him. If they weren’t up to the challenge, the other wizards surrounding the parameter of Harry’s apartment building would probably get the job done.

            Harry’s only other hobby, the that didn’t include looking over potential attorneys, was spying on the wizards spying on him with the use of his omnioculars. After several weeks this too became boring. 

            More than anything Harry wished he could raise his eyes from the ground and find Dana playing with blocks on the floor and singing to herself. One day he awoke thinking he could smell the sweet scent of Audrey’s fresh cinnamon rolls from the kitchen. But he didn’t.

            Harry had written to Audrey every day since he had been entrapped in his own residence, and she had responded with words of encouragement and love. She was thrilled beyond words that Harry had confessed his happy news to his friends, and was now urging Harry to come out with the secret to the Ministry and the press. She associated this secret with the main evidence against Harry and assumed the charges would be dropped if he simply revealed the truth. But he felt that she was being very naive, for he kept locked away two other secrets which he protected with his life. 

            It was those two secrets which worried him more than the pending trial which he was certain he would face alone. It wasn’t necessarily the secrets themselves that worried Harry, but that other people had knowledge of them. If one or both were to reach the public’s eye, he was sure they would condemn him for the crimes he hadn’t committed. He could only hope the people he entrusted with them would keep their lips sealed for his sake.

            The only real problem was that Ron seemed to doubt Harry’s sanity as each day passed.

            That was another thing which bothered Harry. Sure, it would bother anyone if one of your best friends believed you to be a total lunatic. But if Ron truly believed Harry might actually be responsible for the Black Order’s actions, maybe not even consciously, then Ron just might slip the truth of Harry’s sixth year.

            Hermione ensured Harry that Ron would never do such a thing, but Harry noticed slight doubt embedded in Hermione’s faithful eyes. He didn’t mention it at all around Ron or Ginny, as if hoping neither of them would remember it, but it was a ridiculous thought of his. None of them would ever forget that day, not even when they were old and senile. 

            But that secret was held within the memories of four people. Harry’s other secret, however, was much harder to conceal.

            It was on May the fourth, Harry’s first wedding anniversary with Audrey, when it happened.

            Hermione decided she wanted to get away from the office for lunch to see Harry for another round of vague and meaningless conversation. She Apparated to his apartment building, checked in with the first guard, then the second. She entered the elevator and checked in with the third guard. Finally she was cleared by the two wizards who guarded Harry’s door.

            “Harry?” she called out, slipping off her light coat and dropping it on the back of a chair. “I came by to see you. I figured you’d be bored and perhaps would like to talk,” she said, but Harry didn’t answer her. “Harry?” she called.

            He wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room. Hermione frowned slightly and walked down the hallway. “Harry? You have to be here,” she continued, half to herself. She looked in the library, the guestroom, and the bathroom, but there was no sign of him. Up ahead, Harry’s bedroom doors were slightly ajar. Hermione eased forward and pushed them open.

            “Oh my goodness,” she said breathlessly, her hand reaching for her opened mouth.

            Harry was trembling severely on the floor at the foot of his bed, his legs pulled to his chest, and his hands yanking at his hair. Hermione ran to him and sank to her knees.

            “Harry what’s wrong?” she asked him. But he didn’t respond.

            His eyes were screwed tight and his face was shiny with sweat and specs of blood. Apparently he had been scratching at his head. He was rocking back and forth, groaning.

            “Harry!” Hermione shouted, grabbing his arms trying to pull them away from his hair, which he was adamantly trying to remove. “My God, what’s wrong with you?!”

            “Go away,” he whined to her, quaking more severely each moment. “Shhh.”

            “I need to know what’s wrong,” she told him urgently, now clutching his shoulders.

            “Stop,” he whimpered. “Stop them.” He pulled at his hair again, causing his head to bleed. “Make them stop.”

            “Make what stop?” she asked. “Harry, let me help you.”

            “No,” he groaned, now thrashing about as he clasped his head tighter.

            Hermione touched his forehead, which upset him further, then drew her hand back and stood up. “You’re burning up,” she said. “I have to call for help.”

            “Shhhh,” he whispered, rocking back and forth. It didn’t seem to her as if he knew Hermione was even there. “Shhhh,” he pleaded.

            Hermione whirled around to run to the guards for help when Dobby popped into view and scampered to Harry with a flask filled with glowing bright white potion.

            “Hermione Granger must leave,” Dobby told her as he shook the potion vial.

            “Dobby, what’s wrong with him?” she asked, not taking a step. “What’s happening?”

            “Leave!” he commanded her.

            Hermione was ready to argue back when Harry’s face took on a horribly painful expression and the glass windows and doors shattered.

            “Hermione Granger is in danger if she doesn’t leave Harry Potter now!” Dobby cried. He turned Harry onto his back, jumped onto his chest, and gripped Harry’s jaw so he could administer the potion. “Please go!” Dobby yelled, staring at her viciously. Hermione decided to heed the warning, and bolted out of the room, slamming the doors behind her.

            She could still hear Harry moaning through the closed doors. She wanted to peek her head inside to see what was happening, but Dobby had been very angry, which she‘d never seen before in her life. She decided it would be best to mind her own business so she walked into the living room and sat in a chair to wait.

              Ten minutes went by before Dobby emerged from Harry’s room and stepped into the kitchen. Hermione pushed herself out of the chair and went to him in hopes of an explanation. But when she asked him a number of relevant questions, Dobby only shook his head.

            “Dobby cannot tell Hermione Granger anything,” he said sadly. He placed a large cardboard box on the counter then sat himself on a stool. “Dobby has been sworn to secrecy.”

            But that wasn’t good enough for Hermione. She slammed her hands on the counter and stomped her feet in rage. “He’s my best friend, Dobby!” she yelled. “You will tell me what’s wrong with him!”

            Dobby’s large ears drooped down and he shook his head. “No, Miss. Dobby cannot.”

            “Damn it!” she yelled at him in frustration. “I’m sick of this! I’m tired of knowing nothing about him.” She paced around the kitchen, her eyes searching for something else to harp on. Here eyes fell on the cardboard box Dobby had just placed on the counter. “What’s in this box?” she said as she grabbed it from the counter. “What’s in here?” she asked, pulling at the tape.

            Surprisingly, Dobby didn’t intervene. He passed her a very strange, almost encouraging, gaze. He stood in the kitchen and watched her tear the box open and extract its contents.

            “What?” she said, pulling out an opened carton of cigarettes. “That’s it?” she asked. She rummaged through the box to find more opened boxes of cigarettes. “He can’t be involved in illegal activity, can he?” she asked herself. “Narcotics. Oh my,” she said, putting her hand to her open mouth. “What if he’s selling something illegal? Is he, Dobby? I have to take one to analyze its components,” she said strangely, fumbling clumsily with the boxes. After witnessing Harry’s epileptic episode, her mind didn’t seem to be functioning on all the higher levels. She withdrew one cigarette and was slipping it in her pocket when a powerful hand grabbed her wrist, swung her around, and slammed her into the refrigerator.

            “What are you doing?” Harry growled, pushing down on her wrists with his hands. She could smell his cold sweat and feel it penetrating her clothes as his whole body was pressed against hers. She looked up into his bloodshot eyes, which were glinting with growing anger, and shuddered.

            “You’re scaring me,” she said in a trembling and feeble voice. Harry’s grip on her was causing an ache in both her arms. “Harry, you’re hurting me,” she whispered.

            He looked away from her then released her and walked away. “Sorry,” he mumbled with his back to her.

            “What’s wrong?” she asked as she rubbed her wrists. She was sure she‘d have bruises. “What happened to you?”

            Harry looked into the cardboard box and pulled out a carton. “You think I’m addicted, don’t you?” he asked her. He turned around to look into her eyes then smiled to himself. “Harry’s just a drug addicted wreck, huh?”

            Hermione shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, of course not.”

            “I know a lie when I see one,” he said, dropping his sick grin and replacing it with a frown. “I must be up to something horrible, right? All of these drugs just sitting here in a box for me. You think I must be making a profit or slowly wasting myself. I can’t handle life, right? Harry’s had too much to deal with so he’ll just waste himself like the rogue he is?”

            Hermione continued to shake her head at him. “No.”

            Harry furrowed his brow and let his tensed shoulders drop. “Fine,” he said acidly. “Keep lying to me.”

            Hermione made a choking sound in her throat. “I’m not lying. Why are you acting like this?” she asked desperately.

            Harry walked toward her and pulled the cigarette out of her clutched hand. “Thou shalt not steal, Hermione. You wouldn’t have found anything conclusive anyway. I’m doing nothing illegal.”

            “Okay,” she said, backing away.

            Dobby finally cleared his throat to speak up, but Harry rounded on him. “HOW COULD YOU LET HER SEE ME!” he bellowed at the house elf. “WHY DID IT TAKE YOU SO LONG, YOU WORTHLESS VERMIN?! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I SAID TO KEEP MY SECRETS SAFE? YOU’LL PROCTECT THE MALFOY’S BUT NOT MINE? AFTER ALL I’VE DONE FOR YOU?” he screamed so loudly that his face turned puce and veins were pulsating in his temple. Dobby backed away slowly but didn’t appear frightened.

            “Harry, stop it!” Hermione cried.

            Harry whirled around and advanced on her. “SHUT UP!” he yelled in her face. “SHUT UP, YOU SELFISH WHORE!”

            Hermione raised her hand and slapped Harry across the face with all her strength. Harry staggered backwards and put his hand to the cheek she’d struck. He closed his eyes, turned away from her and sank down to the floor. He pulled his knees to his chest and leaned against his cabinets with his eyes sealed shut.

            Dobby came back into the kitchen and looked up at Hermione. “Harry Potter didn’t mean it. Harry Potter always speaks highly of Hermione Granger.”

            “What’s wrong?” she asked yet again to the both of them. “What did that potion do to you, Harry? Why did you need to take it? I think I deserve some answers after what just happened.”

            “You don’t deserve anything,” he said evenly though he still wasn’t looking at her. “I don’t have to answer to you.”

            “And who will you answer to?” she asked him. “Hmmm, Harry? You’re on the path of losing your friends, do you know that?”

            “Get out of my face,” Harry snapped at her.

            “Dobby,” she said to the elf, who was approaching Harry cautiously. “What was that potion? Is he acting like this because of it?”

            Dobby glanced at Harry then back to Hermione and nodded.

            “You tell her anything,” Harry growled at Dobby, “and I’ll slit your throat.”

            “The potion is making him agitated, is that it?” she asked. Dobby nodded again and backed away from Harry, who was staring at him over the rims of his glasses.

            “What else does it do?” she pressed on.

            “He won’t tell you that,” Harry said to her, now staring her straight in the eye. “I know he won’t. You can’t get answers from me, Hermione, and you certainly won’t get them from him. You think knowing things about me will compensate for your jealousy and envy?” He pulled one corner of his mouth up into a smirk. “Audrey knows why. She knows everything about me. I know it makes you angry.”

            Hermione swallowed but said nothing.

            “I chose her over you,” he continued with his nasty grin. “I know you went home and cried into the silence, mourning your loss of me.”

            Hermione broke her gaze from his and looked to Dobby. “What does the potion do?”

            Harry laughed at her. “Clever Hermione at a loss for reason? What has the world come to if you can’t figure me out? Why oh why is Harry acting like such a scoundrel? Gosh,” he said in a higher pitched voice, mocking her by looking deep in thought, “he wasn’t like this when I first met him. If he was I surely wouldn’t have befriended him, supported him, or loved him as much as I did. I wonder what went wrong with poor little Harry,” he whispered, stroking the sides of his face. “What happened to the endearing tragic little hero?”

            Hermione stifled her painful tears. “Good question,” she forced out of her throat.

            “He’s gone,” Harry said. “He died a long time ago. I’m really not that sorry that he did,” Harry went on, though it appeared that he was calming down. “He was so worried about being liked and accepted. People kicked him around like a football. No one cared about him. Screw them, that’s what I say. Screw all of them. Look at what they’re doing to me, Hermione. I saved them. I saved all of them from Voldemort and countless other evils, and look at what they’re doing to me. They don’t care that I finally found a taste of happiness, or that I’m completely innocent. They are selfish, just like you. You just want what you want, and nobody else matters.”

            “What has happened to you?” she asked him, no longer holding back her tears. “Why are you like this? Why are you so angry?”

            “Figure it out for yourself, if you think you’re so clever,” he said, then swallowed hard.

            Dobby walked to Harry and felt his forehead. “Harry Potter still has a fever. Hermione Granger must not take Harry Potter seriously. Rest, sir,” Dobby said to Harry and insisted on getting him into bed. “The potion was too strong.”

            Harry threw him off but stood up and began walking to his room. Hermione remained in the kitchen and watched him walk away.

            “Stay here, Miss,” Dobby said to Hermione then ran after Harry.

            Hermione grabbed the cigarette Harry had taken from her and shoved it in her pocket. She wanted to go listen through Harry’s bedroom door, but knew it was a terrible idea. She sat down in a stool and waited for Dobby to come trotting back into the room with an explanation.

            Dobby entered the kitchen and began to prepare a meal.

            “You have to tell me what that potion does,” she said to him.

            “Dobby must keep Harry Potter’s secrets,” he said.

            “I understand that,” she explained, “but he’s my friend, Dobby. Has this ever happened before?”

            Dobby set a pan down on the stove and nodded to her.

            “When?”

            “Not more than a year ago, Miss. Dobby got the potion, as told, and gave it to Harry Potter. The side affects were just the same then, too. Harry Potter gets very angry at anyone just after Dobby has given it to him, Miss. It is a normal reaction.”

            “So what he was saying to me,” Hermione said slowly, “wasn’t entirely true?”

            “No, Miss.”

            Hermione expected to feel relieved, but didn’t. “But some of it was true?” she asked tenderly.

            “Dobby knows nothing of this. Harry Potter limits what he tells Dobby. Dobby only knows what he must to keep Harry Potter safe.”

            Hermione stood up and paced around the room. “Did the box of cigarettes come from the same place as the potion?” she asked as she fiddled with it in her pocket.

            “Yes,” he said. “Dobby cannot tell Hermione Granger where that is.”

            “It’s not from his wife, is it?” she asked.

            It seemed as if the words hung out in front of her for several days. His wife. Harry was married. It still didn’t seem quite real to her. Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen the two of them together, or Harry wearing his wedding band, or that maybe she was still in utter disbelief that he would get married at all. Maybe it was all three reasons bundled up into one. While it was still hard to grasp onto, it sure did explain everything about his strange behavior. Well, most of it. There were still quite a few things left unexplained.

            Dobby tried looking confused by her question.

            “Audrey,” Hermione said. “I know about her. I assume you do, too. Did all of this come from her?”

            Dobby shook his head then made himself busy with cooking. Hermione knew that she’d get no where with Dobby. If he was keeping Harry’s secrets, then he certainly wasn’t going to tell her what they were.

            “Hermione Granger can come back in a few hours. Dobby expects Harry Potter to be himself by then,” he said.

            “Does he have an attorney yet?” she asked as she gathered her things.

            “No,” he said.

            “Terrific,” she replied sarcastically. “I won’t return unless I’m invited.” She brushed her hair out of her face then departed without another word.

 

***

Harry rolled over on his stomach then checked the watch on his wrist. Five. It was five in the evening on May the fourth, his trial in one month‘s time. Harry ruffled his hair and yawned. His scalp was quite sore, which wasn’t a surprise, and he had a dreadful headache. He tossed his blankets off of him and nearly fell out of bed.

            “Bloody hell,” he mumbled to himself as he staggered out of his room, his hands massaging his throbbing head. He shuffled down his hall, shading his eyes from the sinking sun which bathed the entire flat with a painful orange glaze. Dobby was at work in the kitchen and enjoying it immensely. He was singing to himself and dancing about.

            “Harry Potter is awake!” he said cheerfully to him.

            “Oh, God, please not so loud,” Harry said, pushing against his head as he walked into his living room and collapsed on the sofa.

            “How does Harry Potter feel?” Dobby asked. He scampered over to him with a large glass of water and a bright smile.

            “Kill me now,” Harry groaned. “Just do it, Dobby. There’s no point in going on.”

            Dobby walked back into the kitchen and continued working, which included banging of pots and pans.

            “STOP!” Harry cried, clasping his hands over his ears. “Damn that’s loud.”

            “Harry Potter got a package from Audrey,” Dobby said.

            Harry fell off the sofa, crawled along the floor until he pulled himself up, then reached for the white package on the kitchen counter. It was heavy and he was sure what it was. He ripped the card from the box, slit open the envelope, and pulled out the card.

            The front had a green painted handprint on it, obviously Dana’s. Harry ran his finger over it, feeling the bumps and air bubbles from the paint. When he opened it he saw Audrey’s hand writing, written in a sparkly silver ink which she loved.

            My love,

                        I know it must be difficult being separated from your family on this day--- the day we became an official family just one year ago. But know that Dana and I will always be with you, if not in physical presence, then spiritually. I think about you nearly everyday and wish I could see your smiling face. Be strong, Harry, you will get through this. I know that you are a survivor and can handle anything which is tossed in your path.

                        I feel that I should remind you to keep your temper. When it gets away from you, you tend to act harshly and rather like a teenager with raging hormones. Again, you must be strong. I know you will conquer this situation, just like the others.

                        I baked you a cake, of course. Dana and I already had a piece and I sent you the rest. Perhaps you could share with your friends? I cannot get over how happy I am that you finally revealed your secret. If only you could summon the courage to tell the Ministry. But I know what you will say.

                        I am keeping this letter pithy because I hope to see you in person soon. I love you, Harry. I will always love you, no matter what happens.

 

With all the love I possess,

Audrey

Harry rested the letter on the counter and opened the package. A small sliced-into chocolate cake sat before him. It was covered with gooey white frosting with script writing, “Happy Anniversary” written on the top.

            “How horribly sweet,” a soft and familiar voice whispered from behind him.

            Harry whirled around, his heart rate increasing, sweat immediately oozing out of his pores.

            Standing before him, the sunset behind her, was Leucosia. Her hands were folded, her hair was pulled back into a bun, and her shimmering robes caused Harry to squint.

            “How did you get in here?” he spurted out. He couldn’t see her face because of the sun. He walked around her; she turned her head like a praying mantis to watch him.

            “In where?” she asked, taking a step forward. Her face was shadowed now by the wall.

            Harry didn’t answer. He cast his eyes to his door and for a fleeting moment considered sprinting to it to show the guards that Leucosia was real.

            “I will only remain for a short while,” she said the moment the thought crossed Harry’s mind. “I simply wished to have a glimpse of you.”

            Harry wiped sweat off his face and tried to calm his breathing. “Get the fuck out of here,” he told her.

            Leucosia broke into a smile. “It amuses me, the way you speak. Whenever you are confronted with me, your speech recedes in years--like a scared teenager. I am aware of how frightened you are. There is no need to conceal this fear of me.”

            Harry took a deep breath and tightened his fists. “I’m not afraid of you.”

            “You forget, Harry,” she said, gracefully raising her finger to her temple. “I can be in here. I see more than you would like for me to see. Whenever I am near, you wish to curl up like a little boy and cry into the darkness. I have witnessed this from you previously. Crying, moaning, suffering in despair and loneliness.”

            “Shut your mouth,” Harry said to her.

            Leucosia laughed. “Proving my point, young Harry?”

            “What do you want from me?” he asked her. “I told you I wouldn’t join you.”

            Still smiling, Leucosia advanced on him, but this time Harry didn’t back away but walked forward.

            “Never assume, Harry. I thought I had made myself clear. I will offer it to you once more, but not at this time. I will wait, for patience is my strongest virtue. After the trial, after the verdict, after your loss, then, and only then, will I extend my hand.”

            A shiver ran down Harry’s spine. “What loss?” he asked, his voice trembling.

            “Did you not say that murdering your friends would be ineffective? Why do I smell terror in your voice?”

            “You said you wouldn’t kill anyone. You said you weren’t a killer,” Harry insisted.

            Leucosia smiled again. “How frustrating it must be,” she whispered. “I can see in, but you cannot. It is not my doing, Harry. They are leaving you as I said they would. Ron is in doubt of you and Hermione is wounded by you. You are rapidly losing your friends. It is only a matter of time before your family abandons you.”

            Harry took another step forward and stretched out his hand toward her. She didn’t back away from him but allowed him to touch her.

            Harry’s trembling hand hovered above her shoulder for a few seconds, then dropped right through her.

            “You’re not corporeal,” he said in a deadened voice.

            “You seem surprised,” she said. “Doubting my actual existence now, are you not? The doctor placed doubt in your mind. I can see it. Maybe I am just a delusion of yours…”

            “No,” Harry said. “You can’t fool me.”

            Leucosia raised one eyebrow, smiled, and drew closer to him still. “One quarter of seven three zero, then we shall see. Good luck finding a suitable attorney, Harry.” She stepped backwards toward the window, not leaving a shadow on the ground, and then vanished as quickly as she came.

            Dobby came back into the room from the pantry and climbed back on his stool to resume cooking and didn’t even give a second look to Harry, who was rooted to the floor. He swallowed a few times and listened to his heart beat slow down to normal. Audrey’s cake sat before him. Somehow seeing something so material and normal seemed surreal to him after having a conversation with a mysterious being.

            He finally took a few steps toward the kitchen as he thought of his conversation with her. He couldn’t help but feel that something wasn’t right about her. Whether it be that she was a delusion of his, which he didn’t want to consider, or that there was something more to her than met the eye.

            A window in Harry’s flat suddenly burst open and a strong gust of wind hit Harry’s face, nearly blowing off his glasses. He ran to the window and closed it, pushing hard against it because the wind was so strong. Audrey’s letter flew to the door along with some other loose papers. He scrambled over to scoop them up then stuffed them in an open drawer and slammed it shut. He clasped his head and screwed his eyes shut. He had momentarily forgotten about his headache, but now it came screaming back to him.

            When he recollected his thoughts, he walked to the door to talk to the guards.

            “I’m going to use my fireplace,” he told them dully, rubbing his temples. “If you hear me talking that’s why.”

            “Who are you contacting?” he asked.

            “Well that’s really none of your business, but Hermione Granger is who. It’s within my rights, you know.” Before they could respond, Harry shut the door in their faces then walked to his fireplace.

            He had a kneeling pad for comfort and floo powder at the ready. When his head was in the fire he called for Hermione’s address and hoped she was home. He soon saw the small house he had been stuck in for a week. There were books strewn all over, as usual, brooms were sweeping up, and a few dusters were dancing across table tops.

            “Hermione?” Harry called. “Are you home?”

            Hermione sauntered into the room with a long and angry frown. She had her hair pulled back, though a few strands had escaped, dirt smudges on her face, and she wore a dirty shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

            “Hi,” Harry said cordially with a smile.

            Hermione shift her weight to one side and crossed her arms.

            “I know why you’re angry,” Harry started, still smiling at her. “You’re completely justified in this anger. For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry.”

            Hermione cleared her throat and continued to stare at him.

            “Really sorry,” he continued. “I wasn’t myself. What I said wasn’t true at all. How can you be a whore when you’re a virgin?”

            Hermione shifted to the other hip and re-crossed her arms.

            “Of course that’s not the point,” he said. “The point is--”

            “What was that potion and what does it do?” Hermione asked coolly. She took a few more steps toward the fireplace then sat down and crossed her legs, swinging one. “I have a right to know everything about that potion you took, Harry,” she added with a glare.

            “You’re right about that,” Harry said as he swallowed. “Okay. I’ll tell you. Wait. Let me explain the reason I need it, okay?”

            “Fine,” she replied.

            “A few years ago I started having some problems.”

            “What kind?” she asked.

            “Head problems. I--I started having really bad headaches and I didn’t know why. I saw a few people about it and they told me it was probably genetic. They can’t tell for sure because--well, you know why they can’t know that. So I was told that the potion would make the headaches either go away completely, or alleviate them so I could tolerate them.” He watched her shoulders relax and her leg stopped swinging.

            “Go on,” she said.

            “Then there are the side effects. Because of what it does to the brain chemicals, or something, I become a bit agitated and short tempered.”

            “I noticed,” she said.

            “Well that’s why. I’ve only taken that potion twice before because it was an emergency. You see the real reason I smoke is because that potion is in the cigarettes. But it’s not as concentrated so it’s easier for me. I don’t smoke because I enjoy it, Hermione.”

            “You do at this point,” she told him. “And I’m not buying all of this, Harry. I can understand being agitated, but you were vicious. I have never seen you so sadistic and ferocious like you were today. And I do not believe that you have no control over your behavior or what foul words spill out of your mouth,” she said darkly, her brows furrowed in what looked like hatred.

            Harry held his breath as he looked in her face. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

            “I’m getting tired of your worthless apologies,” she replied curtly. “Would you have acted like such a monster in front of or toward your little girl?” she asked.

            Harry blinked in quick succession as his mouth dropped slightly. “I’m---I’m not sure.”

            “Think real hard, then,” she growled at him. It was the first time Harry was actually frightened by Hermione. Her face was reddening, her hands were shaking, and she was beginning to cry.

            “No,” he said, not looking in her eyes.

            “Oh, so you do have control? You can treat your friends, the only people you had for seven years, like unimportant slugs or something?” she said, her voice steadily rising. “Is that what Ron and I are, Harry? Do you actually care about us?”

            “Of course I do,” he replied.

            “You did at one time, do you still now?” she asked. “Answer me honestly, Harry. I can’t take any more lies from you.”

            Harry’s lips were quivering when he answered her. “More than you know, apparently,” he said evenly. “You and Ron are the only reason I come back. You have absolutely no idea how much I hate this place! If you and Ron weren’t here, I wouldn’t ever return. Ever,” he said with a shaky voice. “For the first time in my entire life I have people of my own. Can you comprehend that concept? Can you possibly understand how good it feels to have a home to go to after twenty-one years without one? Can you?”

            Hermione lowered her head. “I suppose not,” she admitted.

            “I would do anything for them. You have no idea how much I love them, Hermione. It hurts to be away from them, so much sometimes I can’t stand it. So I’m sorry I’m such a prick sometimes, I really am. But I’ve given up a lot to live the life of a Janus, as you put it. I think perhaps I deserve a break or two. And if you or Ron were ever in any kind of danger, you know I would help you. That’s my hamartia, isn’t it? The saving-people-thing?” he asked, then pulled his head out of the fireplace.

            Dobby gave him a reproachful look as he started back for his room.

            “The door, sir,” Dobby said pointing.

            Harry slowly turned back around and saw that the door was glowing blue. Curious as to which friend would pay him a visit, he approached and opened it. A young man standing at an average height, with brown hair, brown eyes, and a smile stood before him.

            “Hello, Harry,” he said.

            “Jake,” Harry sighed as he smiled at one of the lead prosecutors for the Ministry. “I’m glad to see you. Please,” he said, widening the entrance, “come in.” Once Jake entered and Harry had closed the door, they broke out into conversation, their words piling on each other.

            Harry held up his hands. “You go first,” he said.

            “Do you have an attorney yet?” Jake asked.

            “Not exactly,” Harry replied. “But I have some information which may tip my scale, but I don’t want to share that with anyone but my attorney. But I’m real glad you’re here, Jake. I need to find one.”

            “Harry, your trial is less than one month away,” Jake said. “There is so much to prep, witnesses to call, evidence to analyze, experts to interview... You need representation,” he pressed.

            “I know that,” Harry said sternly. “I wouldn’t if that hearing hadn’t gone so badly. Why couldn’t you pull more officials to your side of the fence?” Harry asked. “You were one of the only ones who was with me.”

            “Beg your pardon,” Jake replied in a low voice, “but you weren’t exactly credible. But I came here to help you with this case, not argue. The fact is you are going on trial for high crimes, Harry. You know the facts and statistics with our wizard law. Ninety percent of wizards brought to trial are guilty. An additional five percent are involved in the guilty act but are given deals for revealing the true enemy. The remaining five are actually innocent. The odds are against you.”

            “But I’m not guilty,” Harry insisted. “Why would I murder people?”

            “I don’t know,” Jake said with a slight shrug of his broad shoulders. “I thought it was shameless, too. But the fact remains that you are on trial and you need representation. Please tell me I’m penetrating your head.”

            Harry nodded. “I can’t have sleazy criminal attorneys representing me,” he mumbled as he turned away.

            “I knew you would say that,” Jake said to him with a smirk. “And I can’t blame you. I was put in charge of the prosecution for this case.”

            Harry frowned at him and opened his mouth to speak, but Jake calmly raised his hand.

            “But I declined and turned in my resignation,” he said with a growing grin. “Tell me, Harry, could you perhaps find me a job?”

            Harry put his hand to his chest and felt himself smiling at Jacob Verit. “You know,” he said weakly, “I’ve never really wanted to hug another man until now. You did that?” Harry asked. “You resigned from the prosecution to defend me?”

            Jake grinned again and nodded. “Don’t make me regret it, Potter,” he said seriously as he pointed his finger at Harry.

            Harry couldn’t hold it in anymore. He lunged at Jake and hugged him tighter than any person he’d ever hugged. “Thank God for you, Jake,” he said. He pulled back, still grasping Jake’s shoulders as if afraid he would run away and never return, and shook him happily. “I owe you for this!”

            “No,” Jake said, “You’ve done enough for all of us. This is only a small payment. So,” he said, clearing his throat, “down to business.”

            “Yes,” Harry said clapping his hands together. He signaled for Dobby to get Jake whatever he wanted, then showed Jake a seat.

            At first the two discussed the normal matters of how the trial would most likely unfold. Jake was kind enough to hypothesize about how the prosecution would run the trial and what witnesses they would call. He told Harry that the witnesses would have to answer every question they were asked, which could be bad or good, but one of the attorneys could object if it was in anyway irrelevant to the case.

            “Which will be hard,” Jake said, “because a lot of these questions will be based on your character.”

            The defense would call their witnesses who would be prepped with the defense’s questions before hand, but not the prosecution’s. After the calling and questioning of witnesses, including Harry, both sides would give a summation of their case and the jury would convene to decide on a verdict.

            “Guilty or not guilty,” Harry said to himself.

            “That’s right. When you’re found not guilty, then you are free to go,” Jake said with a smile.

            “Right,” Harry said as he forced a smile. “Just out of curiosity, what would happen if this false accusation went all the way through and I was found guilty? What would happen then?” he asked tentatively.

            “You’ve testified at many trials, Harry, you know what happens. If you’re found guilty, the judge decides your sentence. I know that the prosecution is planning on a life sentence in Vincula Solitarum if they get their verdict. But don’t worry about that,” Jake insisted. “I’ll get you out of this mess.”

            Harry took in a fast breath and raised his head. “Vincula?” he asked breathlessly. “They want to send me there?”

            Jake nodded.

            Vincula Soitarum was the maximum security prison somewhere in the Arctic Ocean. Its exact location was unknown for a valid reason. In order to Apparate, one must know their current location and destination point. But Vincula was uncharted and rumored to even move about the globe. Prisoners in Vincula were the darkest of wizards, ones who couldn’t be contained by simple charms and security spells. At Vincula there was no prisoner to prisoner contact. In the glory days of Azkaban the prisoners would go insane because the dementors would circulate their worst memories over and over. But in Vincula prisoners went insane from hearing nothing but overwhelming silence until death or release. They were not allowed outside contact with anyone including family and friends.

            “I can’t go there,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I can’t.”

            “And you won’t,” Jake reassured. “But the prosecution is building a strong case against you, at least from what I’ve seen. You’ll need to entrust me with everything so I can get you out of this mess.”

            “What kind of case can they build against me? They don’t have any evidence, only coincidences, right?” Harry asked.

            “Well,” Jake started, “yes and no. They have the recordings of your sessions with Doctor Marc Simon and the notes he submitted. We have them too. We always are aware of all the evidence they have. There is also the time you’ve spent away which you refused to comment on at the hearing, and then a troublesome number of eerie coincidences.”

            “They always have to tell us what evidence they have?” Harry asked as he sighed a bit. “No surprises?”

            Jake bit his lower lip and squinted. “Right. However, there are often surprises. Say you reveal new information while you’re on the stand and the prosecution jumps at it. They can bring in a surprise witness should they feel it necessary. They also don’t have to tell us what questions they’re going to ask, what theories they’re banking on, and so forth. It won’t be surprise free. Sorry,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

            “So now that you’re my attorney, I can tell you anything and you can’t tell anyone else, right?” he asked.

            “That’s correct.”

            “Good,” Harry said as he folded his hands. “Great. Because I have some relevant information about my “extended leave,” shall we say.”

            Jake’s face lit up and he beamed. “Terrific, Harry. What is it?”

            Harry shut his eyes and took in a deep breath, then released the air slowly and opened his eyes again to see Jake’s anticipating face. “I’ve been seeing a woman who as of one year ago today has been my wife,” he said.

            Jake’s mouth dropped open slightly. “You’re married?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

            Harry nodded.

            “So when you were gone you were with her the entire time?”

            “Mostly. I did work as well. I don’t want people thinking I was vacationing on company time. Anyway,” he said as he passed his nervous hand through his hair, “Audrey thinks that the moment I release that information I’ll get off the hook. Is she right?” he asked.

            Jake bit his lip again. “It will certainly help you,” he admitted. “But you still have the trial. We can introduce her and put her on the stand toward the beginning of the trial, but you should have said that at the hearing.”

            “I wanted to keep her safe,” Harry said instantly.

            “I thought as much,” Jake said. “The prosecution still has a case, though. They’re not completely relying on your frequent and long absences. There’s still the issue of Leucosia, or the Siren, as they’re referring to her. They don’t think she’s real.” He played with his lips again as he watched Harry.

            Harry knew exactly what he was thinking just by staring into Jake’s face and eyes. Jake was doubtful as well. He wasn’t convinced Harry was off his rocker, but open to the idea of a little paranoia and delusion. Harry didn’t know if he should continue protesting that Leucosia was real, or if he should play along.

            “And what do you think?” Harry asked him.

            “I’ll think whatever you want me to think,” Jake said.

            “Don’t talk like an attorney. Answer me straight. Do you think I’ve created her as a delusion of mine and she’s complete bunk, or do you believe me when I say she’s setting me up?” he asked calmly. He wouldn’t tell anyone that he’d seen her just a few minutes before.

            “I believe you, of course,” Jake said, but Harry was sure he didn’t. Jake took his eyes away from Harry’s at the last moment and started to write on a clipboard.

            Harry hated clipboards. Every person who had one was of a certain breed of human being. The over analytical kind. The kind who never believed anyone other than themselves and wouldn’t listen to you. The kind who couldn’t say what was bothering them, but would etch it on a page with a scratchy quill that left ink blots or lines that were too thin.

            “Of course,” Harry said to himself gazing at his naked ring finger.

**

After one knock, Hermione’s door opened steadily as Vanessa eased her head inside. Hermione glanced at her, nodded, then resumed her previous activity of thrashing a brand new punching bag, which hung from her ceiling and was also tied to the floor with magic chains. Vanessa entered tenderly, taking soft steps toward her while her lips remained sealed. For a moment she simply watched as Hermione beat the bag with ferocity. The house, even the windows, she noted, was sparkling clean.

            “What is it?” Hermione finally asked.

            Vanessa shrugged. “I just wanted to come and see you,” she said.

            “Don’t you have a job?” Hermione snapped.

            “No,” Vanessa said. “Jobs are highly overrated. And I see you’re not working today.”

            “My boss sent me home,” she said as she socked the bag again. “I started yelling at everyone, so he told me to take the day off.”

            “And why were you yelling at everyone?” she asked.

            Hermione ceased her attack and dropped her arms. “I have a lot on my mind, is all,” Hermione said. She peeled the protective tape from her wrists and pulled a few strands of her hair behind her ears. “Harry used to have one of these to punch when he had too many thoughts for his head. It’s a good idea.” Then she walked over to a long, hovering conveyer-belt and stepped on it and began running in place.

            “Oh,” Vanessa said with a smile, “you got one of those. I hear they’re very nice. Why the sudden exercise regime?” she asked.

            “I need to get in shape,” Hermione answered simply. “I keep seeing all these perfect women with perfect bodies with tiny waists and I thought,” she panted, “that there’s no excuse that I am not that fit. I mean, the only time you can really have an excuse for that is if you’ve had babies, and I haven’t.” She increased her pace on the hovering treadmill. “I mean look at you,” she pressed on, staring at Vanessa’s figure. “You have the perfect body. So should I. I’m young and without pregnancy.” Hermione’s face began to redden but not from her workout. “You know how men are,” she continued. “They’re so preoccupied with outwardly appearance and small waists and huge breasts. They don’t care if you’re smart, or if you listen to them,” she said as her eyes moistened, “or that you’re always there for them when they need you, or that you believe them or are always taking their side. They only care about breasts, firm butts, pretty faces, and a ton of sex.” A few tears trickled down her cheeks.

            “You’re in pretty good shape if you can talk that easily while you’re sprinting,” Vanessa said. “Hermione, not all men are like that,” she said.

            Hermione shook her head vigorously. “Oh yes they are,” she insisted. “They all are. I know them. There isn’t an available man out there who cares what I have to say, only my cup size!”

            Vanessa took a few steps toward her and grabbed her hand. “I think we need to have a discussion,” she said. “Get off the treadmill, missy. Come on,” Vanessa said as she pulled Hermione off with ease.

            “No,” Hermione said, trying and failing to free her hand from Vanessa’s tight grip.

            “Oh yes,” Vanessa continued. “It’s intervention time. Come and sit on the sofa with me,” she continued as she pulled Hermione and sat down.

            “This isn’t good for my health, sitting here as I sweat without having cooled down properly,” Hermione mumbled.

            “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Vanessa said shortly as she turned Hermione around to face her. She took a deep breath. “Now I happen to be rather smart, like you, and that intellect incorporates emotions of the heart. I know this recent hatred of men derives from Harry and something he said and did. How am I doing so far?” she asked.

            Hermione looked away and crossed her arms.

            “I’ll take that as a yes,” Vanessa said and continued. “From our past encounters I know that you feel more than simple friendship for Harry, and when I say simple I mean you actually love him. Not brotherly love, not friend love, but ‘I want to marry him and bear children with him’ kind of love. This will always be complicated with any man, but Harry seems to be a different breed in that his psyche isn’t like other men, or people for that matter. He tends to be rash, quick thinking, has serious temper issues, and a tendency toward violence. But everyone has some issue or two, let us remember that,” she said.

            “Vanessa why are you here?” Hermione asked.

            “I was talking to Ron,” she said, folding her hands delicately on her knees. “I asked how Harry was and Ron was mechanical with his answers. I then asked about Audrey Wyatt, because I had the feeling there was more there than met the eye. It seemed very suspicious. Ron avoided my eyes and left the room. So I changed the subject and he still avoided my eyes. Knowing that I had done nothing wrong to him or said anything offensive, I knew something was up with Harry and Audrey. If anyone would give me more of an idea about this, you would. When I came into the house and saw you slaying the innocent punching bag and running on the treadmill as if an axe murderer was behind you, I knew I was right.”

            Hermione leaned back on her sofa and sighed, then turned her eye to Vanessa, who appeared eager for some answers, but also concerned for Hermione.

            “It’s complicated,” Hermione said in a low mumble.

            “Oh,” Vanessa said with a feeble smile. “It’s complicated because Harry told you not to breathe a word to anyone?”

            Hermione nodded slightly.

            “So he loves her?” she asked softly.

            Lips trembling, Hermione nodded again.

            Vanessa shook some hair out of her face and sighed. “He married her, didn’t he?”

            Hermione tightened her grip on her own arms and bit her trembling lip as tears welled up in her shiny eyes. She swallowed hard and kept a fixed stare at the fireplace across the room.

            “I’m sorry,” Vanessa said to her. “I can tell you really love him.”

            Hermione suddenly jumped up and threw her hands in the air. “Shouldn’t that make me happy?” she demanded as a few tears trickled down her cheeks. “Shouldn’t I be happy for him? I thought people who loved always wanted what made their love happy. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? Shouldn’t I be feeling relieved and glad that Harry finally has a home and a family?”

            “A family?” Vanessa asked with wide eyes. “Oh my. Harry has a baby?”

            “All I can think about is me. Me, me, me! Why am I not happy for him? Why!” she cried. She collapsed on the ground and pulled at her hair. “Why am I being so selfish?” she sobbed.

            Vanessa got down on her knees in front of Hermione and hugged her. “You’re not,” she said. “You’re crying because you lost him. You’re not being selfish at all. This is real. What you’re feeling is a real emotion, not one for a fairytale in a storybook.”

            Hermione clung onto Vanessa and cried into her shoulder for several minutes. The only sounds were sniffles and a few choking sounds often associated with heavy weeping. Finally Hermione pulled back and sat on the back of her legs, wiping her red face and rubbing her bloodshot and puffy eyes. Vanessa crossed her legs and just sat with her.

            “When I was fifteen,” Hermione started in a hoarse voice, “I had a very strange and sudden thought. It was a thought that hung with me for years and I couldn’t shake it off. I knew, I just knew, that one day I would marry Ron or Harry,” she said as tears steadily dripped out of her eyes. “I didn’t know which, but I knew it would be one of them. Because I loved them both so much,” she said as she sobbed again, covering her mouth with her hands.

            Vanessa went to hug Hermione again.

            “I’m sorry I took Ron,” Vanessa said in her ear.

            Hermione pulled back again and shook her head. “No, don’t be,” she said as she calmed down again. “I can’t have both,” she smiled.

            “Well, he is a good guy, isn’t he?” she said. “I know how much they both mean to you. And I’m really sorry.”

            Hermione looked down at her hands and sniffed. “She’s gorgeous,” Hermione said suddenly. “She’s tall, beautiful, great figure, nice rack, pretty smile, and all the rest. God, I never thought I’d say any of that about someone Harry was seeing. The women I met before had some flaw. She was perfect, Vanessa. She looked like a lingerie supermodel or something and what was worse was that she seemed really nice.”

            “Bitch,” Vanessa said dully.

            Hermione looked up and stared at Vanessa’s serious face, and smiled.

            “I will hate this woman for you, Hermione. She’s obviously evil,” she said with a wry smile. “To the core.”

            Hermione smiled and bit her lip. “No,” Hermione said. “She must really love him to put up with his temper and all his other foibles. I’m just being selfish about it,” she said as she wiped the tears from her face.

            “You’re not,” Vanessa insisted. “Harry has one of those personalities you’re attracted to because you want to fix him and love him. It’s natural.”

            “I want to fix him?” she said to herself.

            “I think he’s a bit damaged in the head, Hermione. The way he treats you and Ron, his friends, is horrible.”

            “He’s had such a hard life. And he always treated me better,” she mumbled. “I noticed it. I remember the day he broke up with that Piper woman. He came to me. But,” she sighed, “he didn’t say anything other than he broke up with her. Still, you can’t expect men to talk about their emotions. I bet he told Audrey about it,” she said as her eyes welled up again. “I bet he told her about everything he never told me. And he’s slept with her.”

            “Chances of that are high,” Vanessa said. “We shouldn’t talk about this.”

            “Not that he was a virgin before,” Hermione went on. “For a long time I couldn’t imagine Harry as a sexual being. Then one day Ron and I went to see him while he was at training, and that Piper woman literally popped over to his room and started hanging on him and talking to him like they were intimate. I know they slept together. Then it was clear to me. Eighteen and no longer a virgin.”

            “No one taught him sexual moral values,” Vanessa said. “You’ve got to give him a pass. Anyway, I really think a change of subject would be great. Tell me more about Ron.”

            Hermione sighed and wiped her eyes. “What do you want to know?” she asked.

            “Have you ever kissed him?” she asked suddenly.

            Hermione’s eyes bulged out of her head. “Excuse me?” she asked.

            Vanessa beamed and chuckled. “You heard me,” she laughed. “Have you kissed him?”

            “That’s a little personal,” Hermione replied.

            “Personal?” Vanessa asked with raised eyebrows. “You just finished telling me about Harry’s sex life and would have continued had I not stopped you. So tell me, Granger, did you smooch Ron?” she asked.

            Hermione put her hand to her chest but couldn’t help smiling. “I haven’t known you long enough to talk about that,” she said.

            “See above statement,” Vanessa pressed on. “Harry’s sex life. You must have kissed Ron otherwise you would’ve just denied it. So when did you? You can tell me.” She scooted closer to Hermione and folded her hands in her lap.

            “Where would you get such an idea?” Hermione asked.

            “Ron mentioned something about kissing you,” she answered flatly.

            “Get out!” Hermione yelled. “We promised we wouldn’t tell anyone!”

            Vanessa clapped her hands together and giggled hysterically. “I knew it! I knew you kissed him! What year? It was fifth, wasn’t it? Oh come on and tell me already!”

            “Fifth year? What makes you think it was fifth year?”

            “Chances are you were upset when Cho kissed Harry so you kissed Ron to get even. It was brief,” Vanessa continued as Hermione’s mouth hung open in shock, “and there wasn’t much fluid exchanged or lip smacking, but still a kiss. A small, innocent yet significant action and expression of affection.”

            Hermione shook her head, not in denial, but in awe. “Ron didn’t say a thing, did he? You concocted this all by yourself.”

            Vanessa nodded proudly. “Of course. And I know more. You wished it was Harry you were kissing, not Ron.”

            “No. Harry was quite the geek back then. He doesn’t look that way now, but he was a straight up geek,” she said as she wagged her finger at Vanessa.

            “Sure,” Vanessa said disbelievingly. “A cute geek with heart-melting green eyes who has since eaten all his vegetables and grown into quite the specimen of a young man. Tall, strong, brooding, and a damn handsome face. And don’t tell me you hated his hair.”

            Hermione sighed a little as she smiled. “And it all belongs to her. She made him happy,” she said, going back into her previous mood. “She made him so happy he chose her. After years of trying for his happiness, I failed. And here I am, bitter because my best friend, who’s been wrought with misery most of his life, has found happiness and I’m upset because he chose her over me,” she said crying again. “And I’m a rational person. I am. Never in my life did I think I would talk like this and treat Harry as if he were some prize to be won.”

            Vanessa sighed this time. “I’m sorry I brought it up again.”

            Hermione stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “I think you should go,” she muttered. “I’m going to bed.”

            Vanessa stood up and nodded, seeming to understand what Hermione needed. “If you want to talk, you know where to reach me,” Vanessa said gently.

            “Thanks,” she replied. Vanessa turned and left and Hermione headed for her bedroom. She took a very quick shower then collapsed into her bed with damp hair. She tossed and turned for several minutes, then slowly fell into sleep….

            She was walking barefoot on dark, shiny floor. She was wearing a white flowing nightgown which swayed all around her. Up ahead she heard someone crying---a man. A man was sobbing into the night and she was going to him. Hermione rounded a sharp corner and saw Harry hunched over on a sofa, his head buried in his hands, weeping profusely. Hermione reached out for him, but before she could touch his head, Harry stood up and stared wildly at her. His face was red and his eyes were bloodshot and swollen.

            “You broke me,” he said to her in a shaking voice.

            “I had to,” Hermione responded firmly.

            “Playing the hero,” Harry said with gritted teeth. He looked down at his chest and put his hand to his heart. Instantly he began to bleed from the spot, soaking his white shirt in dark red blood. “You broke me,” he said again.

            This time Hermione stepped back and looked down into her left hand. It was dripping in blood, but Hermione wasn’t surprised to see it. She opened her fist and saw a ring, pooled in blood, in the crook of her palm.

            “You broke me!” Harry yelled and lunged at her.

            Hermione woke so fast her head was dizzy. She sat up and saw daylight streaming into her bedroom, as she heard her heavy breathing brake the calm silence of morning.

**********

June 4, 2004

**********

Harry stood in front of his bedroom mirror and pondered the way he was dressed. Jake advised told Harry to wear something expensive yet boring. It was best that Harry look good, but didn’t attract too much attention. He wore dark gray slacks, a matching gray long-sleeved shirt, and an expensive black cloak, which pulled over his shoulders and attached on his chest just below the bottom of his neck with a clip shaped like a lion’s head. His glass cross hung around his neck but was barely visible, and his Auror ring rested on his right ring finger, where it belonged.

            The arraingment and pretrial had been last week. Harry had plead "not guilty" and was told to remain in his flat, which was old news. But the whole ordeal made the pending trial real.

            Harry walked away from his mirror and out into the living room where he would await Jake and his armed guard.

            “Harry Potter is handsome today!” Dobby yelled from the kitchen.

            Harry made a nonverbal “Hmm,” and nodded his head as he stared at the door.

            Then Jake came through the door looking like a lawyer. “Ready?” he asked.

            “This is wrong,” Harry said grimly.

            “I know,” Jake replied. “Today is the first of a long few days. Then it‘ll all be over and you can stay with your family.”

            “Right,” Harry replied. He took a deep breath and cocked his head from side to side, then walked through his open door into the hallway. Six wizards, all dressed in the same gray robes, awaited him.

            The trial was being held at the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Mysteries. Harry was escorted to the hidden entrance via the phone booth. The golden light illuminated Harry’s boots as the lift lowered to the Atrium floor. When the golden light bathed his face, Harry was able to make out dozens of moving shapes on the wooden floor. The lift doors clattered open and a few of Harry’s guard pushed through the eager and obnoxious crowd of the press.

            “Harry Potter!” they all screamed, pushing their way toward him. “How do you feel about these charges?” one asked.

            “Is it true that you killed the Minister of Magic?” asked another.

            “How long have you been having these delusions?”

            “How long has Hermione Granger been your secret mistress?”

            Harry shook his head and kept his mouth sealed shut as he was led through the crowd to the main lifts. Once inside it lowered and the mass of reporters with their flashing cameras and loud voices disappeared.

            “I’ve always hated them,” he said to Jake and the guards, who nodded in agreement.

            Harry’s stomach did a number of flips as the lift lowered. When the woman’s cool voice announced that they had arrived at the Department of Mysteries, the lift doors clanged open.

            The corridor was vast and silent. A few torches lit the walls and silhouetted the tall outlines of people standing in the hallway. Harry was suddenly aware of his heart pounding in his chest and the loss of saliva in his mouth. He wished Audrey was with him.

            He was led to courtroom seven, which as it turned out, was the largest of the courtrooms. It was also not as dank and foreboding as the other courtrooms he had the pleasure of experiencing. This courtroom was simply squared with rows of seats flanking the middle isle. It seemed as if hundreds of witches and wizards occupied these seats, but Harry couldn’t recognize any of them at the moment. All of them were completely silent; not uttering even a hush or a breath. He looked up at the ceiling as he walked to the defendant’s table, noting the cracks and crevices which accompanied years of wear. As his head dropped, he noted the jury box, which seemed to sit unusually high above everything else. There were twenty witches and wizards sitting there. Gray haired men to very young women were seated in the jury box, all of whom had their eyes glued to Harry.

            Jake pulled out Harry’s chair then sat down in his own.

            Harry’s legs were tingling. He sat down on the cold wooden chair, which was equipped with thick chains, then looked sideways to his attorney, who appeared calm.

            “Why aren’t the chains working?” he asked dryly.

            “Because about a dozen highly trained wizards, including Aurors, have their wands pointed at your heart, and will for the duration of the trial,” Jake said quietly.

            “That eases my mind,” Harry said as he turned in his chair to gaze at some of the silent faces behind him. He saw a few red heads three rows back. But his eyes couldn’t focus enough to make out their faces. In row two sat Hermione. She had flattened her hair and was biting her lip when she noticed Harry was looking at her. He attempted a smile at her, which she thankfully exchanged. And to his heart’s content, Audrey sat in the first row with a supportive smile and a wink of her eye. Even in his nervous state, he managed a grin for her.

            “All rise,” a tall wizard said from the front corner of the room.

            Harry stood up but kept his eye on Audrey, who mouthed, “I love you,” to him. Harry turned to face the front and saw three people enter from a door behind the judge’s panel. The first was Arthur Weasley, the second was a man Harry had met before, William Giles, and lastly was an elderly woman with her hair pulled back into a loose bun, whom Harry had not seen before. Each was dressed in dark robes with an emblem on the breast. The courtroom sat down as they did.

            Everyone was silent as they watched the three presiding judges. Giles, who was an elected and registered judge, would do most of the talking and presiding. In the back of Harry’s mind were the trials Harry had seen in Dumbledore’s pensieve, which were nothing like his own. For that he was thankful.

            “There will be no talking,” Giles began suddenly, “except the witnesses, the counselors, and ourselves. Anyone who is found chatting amongst themselves will be tossed out of this trial,” he said. He removed his glasses and cleaned them, as he looked down on his court. “Now then,” he said, replacing his glasses, “we would very much like to hear the defense’s summary of their position.” He leaned back in his chair and pursed his lips forward.

            Jake glanced sideways at Harry, raised himself out of his chair with ease, and walked to the jury box. “Ladies and Gentleman of the jury,” he began, as all attorneys did, “if there is one thing you can remember about my client, Harry Potter, it can only reflect heroism.” He paused for dramatic effect then paced in front of the box as he stared up at them. “And he was not a hero just once, but many times. Harry Potter is not a murderer, a conspirer, or a leader of any dark faction, but a real life hero who has saved humanity time and again. Try to remember, if you can, how terrified you were when He-who-must-not-be-named lashed out against us in his first reign of terror, and how thankful and thrilled you were when a hero, Harry Potter, emerged. In 1992, He-who-must-not-be-named threatened us again by nearly capturing the Philosopher’s stone, but again my client risked his life for ours. But more recently, Harry Potter defeated He-who-must-not-be-named once and for all so we would never have to experience such horror again.” He glanced at Harry, smiled, then looked back to the jury.

            “Yet here you sit. You should be asking yourselves why. The prosecution will try to tell you that my client formed and is leading a terrifying group who call themselves the Black Order. How he can do that while managing to risk his life for you and I is beyond me,” he said with a smile. “The prosecution doesn’t have a shred of evidence placing Harry at scenes of crimes, or that he had anything to do with the murders. In fact, the prosecution doesn’t know where Harry was in the time of question.” He stopped again and took a few steps back as he raised his finger. “But I do, and you will find out shortly, that Harry was not delving into works of evil, but fulfilling a missed happiness which most of us take for granted.

            “As a matter of fact, the prosecution has so little evidence against Harry that I resigned from my job as lead prosecutor so I could defend Harry against these totally ridiculous accusations. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am asking nothing more from you than your ears. The prosecution has nothing.” He nodded to them and walked casually back to his seat beside Harry. He took a deep yet quiet breath and nodded to Harry.

            Across the main isle on Harry’s right was the prosecution’s table. Three people sat there: a tall man with auburn hair with the last name of Auferre, a middle-aged woman with an unusually small nose, and a very young woman with vibrant red hair, rosy cheeks, and bright pink lips. Auferre stood up, sauntered toward the general direction of the jury box with seeming confidence, and began.

            “Ladies and gentleman of the jury,” he began in a deep voice, “welcome to the present.” He gave them a half smirk, folded his hands behind his back, and nodded to each of the twenty jury members. “No one will deny, at least not in this courtroom, that Harry Potter was a great hero. God knows how much he sacrificed, how much pain he endured, and how brave he must have been to achieve such greatness. We are all familiar with our own history and we know how powerful and how magnificent Harry Potter is. But what don’t we know?” he asked. “What exactly is our young hero hiding from us? Over the course of the next few days you will hear testimonials from Harry’s recent past and even present. They will not deny that Harry possesses superior magical prowess, intelligence, or a set of charming green eyes,” he said with a smirk to a few of the ladies. “That is not why we are here. The reason we are here is because our young hero couldn’t answer simple questions regarding the Black Order, which he says he’s been investigating. The reason we are here has nothing to do with Harry’s distant past or what man he used to be. We are here because of who Harry has grown into, and what he has become. The defense painted you a great portrait of a charming hero. The only thing missing from their description was a bright halo atop Harry Potter’s head. But you will hear testimonials from people who can tell you that Harry Potter is angry, bitter, and possesses a deep hatred and jealousy for people like you and me.”

            Harry looked in the corner of his eye at Jake, who showed no signs of distress.

            “No one is perfect,” the man continued. “We all have our foibles. But Harry’s character flaw has manifested not only in hatred, but into an actual delusion that wants our demise. Because let’s face reality, no one can go through Harry’s life and come out all together normal. But that does not excuse murder. Believe me,” he went on, “Harry has more secrets up his sleeve than I have suits. And they are not lustful feelings or strange fantasies, but dangerous tools he can use against anyone.” He locked eyes with each member of the jury. “Thank you.” He walked back to his seat and relaxed.

            Harry felt his face flush pink, but tried not to show distress. Jake had told him to control his emotions the best way he knew how.

            “Counselor Verit,” Judge Giles began, “you may call your first witness.”  

            Jake stood up. “Thank you. The defense would like to call Albus Dumbledore to the stand.”

            From a row behind Harry, Headmaster Dumbledore, looking better and more wiser than ever, walked to the front to sit in the witness’s chair. He folded his hands on his lap, gave a smile to Jake, and winked at Harry.

            “For the record,” Jake began as he walked to him, “could you state your full name and occupation to the court.”

            Dumbledore nodded and cleared his throat. “Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

            “Thank you,” Jake said as he walked toward Dumbledore. “Headmaster, how long have you known the defendant, Harry Potter?”

            Dumbledore raised his fingers to his lips in thought. “I met him when he was only a few weeks old. But I suppose the court would like to know when I began knowing him as a person? Well I believe I really got to know Harry in December of 1991, which would make over twelve years.”

            “You witnessed Harry growing up, didn’t you?” Jake asked.

            “Indeed I did,” Dumbledore replied with a smile.

            “In that time, did Harry ever strike you as a bad person?”

            “Objection,” the prosecution stated. “We’re here in the present, not how the defendant was in the past.”

            “I was merely trying to establish my client by asking people he knew about his character,” Jake explained. “This whole case is based on who Harry is and what type of person he really is, as Counselor Auferre can attest,” Jake said.

            The female judge nodded to Jake. “We understand that, but please move it along to more relevant information.”

            “Yes, ma’am.” Jake said.

            “No,” Dumbledore answered. “I won’t deny Harry broke rules, but many students do. Whenever the rules were broken it was because Harry was doing what was best.”

            “Could you elaborate on that?” Jake asked.

            “In Harry’s first year he broke the school rules to acquire the Philosopher’s stone before Voldemort; in his second year he rescued Ginny Weasley from death; in his third year he helped a wronged man escape; in his fifth year he established a secret defense against the dark arts group and tried rescuing his godfather from harm. Do I need to continue?” he asked.

            “No,” Jake said with a smile as he glanced at the jury. “Would you describe Harry as a hero?”

            “I always have,” Dumbledore answered.

            “On the twenty-fourth of December, Harry attended a ball of sorts at Hogwarts, is that correct?”

            “Yes.”

            “When the cloaked men took hostage everyone present, what did Harry do?”

            “Harry stepped forward before they could harm a young girl. He prevented the murder of a young boy and his family, as well as one of the Weasley twins. Then Harry engaged the men in combat before he was taken down.”

            “’Taken down’ meaning they stabbed him in the heart?” Jake asked as he walked to his table. He picked up a plastic bag which held the recovered Dagger of Ithaca.

            “That is correct,” Dumbledore stated simply.

            “So a cloaked man drew this dagger out of his pocket and plunged it into Harry’s chest?” Jake asked as he showed the dagger to the jury.

            “Yes.”

            “After Harry recovered three days later, what was one of the first things he wanted to do?” Jake asked.

            “He wanted to find those responsible and exact justice,” Dumbledore said.

            Jake nodded. “Thank you.” He walked back to sit next to Harry as the prosecution began their questions.

            Counselor Auferre stood and walked to Dumbledore next. “Headmaster Dumbledore, you said Mr. Potter would break the rules?”

            “Yes.”

            “How frequently?”

            “Not as frequently as his father did as I recall,” he said with a smile. A few people in the courtroom chuckled. “Harry’s main problem was standing up for himself and his friends.”

            “I see. Was Mr. Potter a frequent liar?”
            “Objection,” Jake said as he shot out of his chair, “I thought the prosecution was only concerned with the present time. What does Harry’s past statements mean to this case?”

            “Your honors,” the Counselor said, “I’m simply trying to establish Harry’s character.” He flashed a smile to Jake.

            “Yes, but please get a move on,” Judge Giles responded. “Answer the question, Headmaster.”

            “No Harry was not,” Dumbledore immediately said.

            “No?” he asked. “Mr. Potter didn’t look you in the eye on numerous occasions and lie to you?”

            Dumbledore hesitated for a while, in which time Auferre grinned. “Headmaster, what did you personally teach Mr. Potter to do?”

            “I’m afraid you’ll have to clarify,” Dumbledore said politely.

            “Magic. You took personal time to train Mr. Potter in his sixth and seventh years at your school so he could defeat He-who-must-not-be-named, isn’t that right?”

            “Yes.”

            “What did you teach him that wasn’t offered in the regular classes at Hogwarts?”

            Dumbledore sighed. “I taught him Occulmency so he could protect his mind from Voldemort‘s attempts to penetrate his mind. I helped him unlock his abilities which lay dormant by teaching him to control his emotions and use them in a battle. And I instructed him in several advanced magical studies and charms.”

            “How good was he?”

            “He defeated Lord Voldemort single-handedly. Many considered Voldemort to be the most powerful wizard of our time.”

            “And because Harry Potter defeated him, he now takes that position, don’t you think?” he asked.

            “On many levels, yes he does,” Dumbledore responded.

            “Just one more question Headmaster. On Christmas Eve of the past year, didn’t Harry tell you something was awry?”

            Dumbledore cleared his throat to answer. “He told me to get everyone out of the Great Hall. Minutes later we were taken hostage.”

            “Interesting,” Auferre stated. “He knew they were coming. I have no more questions.” He walked back to his table and sat down as Dumbledore took his leave.

            Harry tried to keep his breathing calm and not look panicked. He wrote on a notepad and then slid it over to Jake. The note read: I hope this trial goes better than that. Jake gave him a reassuring smile and stood up. “The Defense now calls Remus Lupin to the stand.”

            “Your Honors,” Auferre said as he shot out of his chair, “the prosecution understands that the defense will call many of the defendant’s past professors to attest to his character. The prosecution will concede that Harry Potter was a good student aside for a few broken rules, as long as they acknowledge that we are dealing with the present time, not the good old school days.”

            Giles looked to Jake. “How say you, Counselor?” he asked.

            Jake nodded. “The defense will stipulate. Because of the changes I would like to call a recess and reconvene this afternoon to prepare my next witness.”

            “Prosecution has no problem with that,” Auferre said.

            “Very well,” Judge Giles said. “Court will reconvene this afternoon at one. Let me remind the jurors that you are not to discuss this case amongst yourselves. Court is dismissed.”

            After everyone rose as the three judges left, Harry grabbed Jake. “Please tell me you have something up your sleeve.”

            “Yes. Hermione and Ron will testify next. They’ll go over the events in December and more recently what happened weeks ago. I’m going to have Audrey testify last as a surprise witness to take the prosecution off guard. A lot is hinging on what she has to say.”

            “She’ll make sure we win?”

            “She’ll help. Harry I should tell you that the prosecution will have a lot to say, more than I do. But we have the truth on our side, they just have coincidences.”

            “I know that. When do I take the stand?” Harry asked.

            “Right after Audrey. It’ll distract the prosecution.”

            “Good,” Harry said. “And how many days do you think this will last? My heart is racing over here.”

            “Not very long. You could’ve stopped this whole thing had you just said the truth in the hearing. There isn’t much evidence for either side, Harry. Two or three days tops for this case.”

            “Good,” Harry said as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, “I can’t take much of this. So what do we do now?” he asked.

            “I have to prep Ron, Hermione, and Audrey, then you. For now you can go home. I’ll come pick you up when we reconvene.”

            “Wait,” Harry said as the courtroom was nearly empty, “will you have enough time to prep me?”

            “Yes,” Jake answered. “I’ve already prepped the other three, it’s just overview. Besides,” he said as he drew out some parchment, “I already have your questions ready for you. Just go over them and I’ll help you phrase the answers.”

            “Great,” Harry said nervously as he grabbed the parchment and stuffed it in his pocket. He walked with the guards out of the courtroom and was eventually led to his empty apartment. It was possibly the shortest day of his life, or so it seemed. He couldn’t help the dread of testifying. The old saying was that innocent men had nothing to hide. But Harry figured that everyone had at least one thing they wished to keep secret from the public. The prosecuting attorney, Auferre, had a point. Most people’s secrets involved dirty fantasies or numerous affairs or thoughts and simple yet painful secrets which would only result in embarrassment. Everyone had those kinds of secrets.

            As he sat in his chair and stared out one of his many windows, he pondered. He couldn’t stand to think of what would happen if they jury found him guilty. Jake kept reassuring him that it wouldn’t happen, but reflecting on Dumbledore’s testimony, Harry wasn’t as confident. Leucosia had done a thorough job of smearing Harry’s good name to the public. She was also quite secure in thinking a guilty conviction would travel Harry’s way. Everything else she had said came true, why not this?

            He looked over his questions and came up with quick answers to them. He mumbled them to himself as he stared out of his window. It was a beautiful day today. Blue skies. He went over the questions several times until he had memorized their order. Then he tossed the parchment away and sat silently, with only the sound of his ticking wrist watch in the room.

            Jake came by later on to run through the questions with Harry. It didn’t take long and Harry felt it went quite smoothly. His heart was temporarily put to ease by his readiness and Jake’s confidence. When Harry asked why Jake was grinning, he told him that Audrey was going to bring down the court with her convincing testimony. Jake assured Harry once more that he’d be found innocent and could go about his life in a few days. Harry gave a sigh of relief then made his journey back to the courtroom.

            It was as if they had never left. Everyone was back in their seats, the jury had straight faces and occasionally cast Harry a few glances, and the judges sat up high with looks of concentration. Jake was asked to call the next witness.

            “The defense would like to call Miss Hermione Granger to the stand.”

            Hermione stood up and walked gracefully to the stand. She was wearing professional robes, her hair was shiny and flat, and all and all she looked beautiful. A few of the men in the jury smiled as she took her seat and crossed her legs.

            “For the record,” Jake said, “please state your full name and occupation.”

            “Hermione Anne Granger,” she stated clearly, “editor of Sparks Publishing and president of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.” She tossed a few strands of hair out of her face and smiled to Jake.

            “How long, Miss Granger, have you known the defendant, Harry Potter?”

            “Almost thirteen years now,” she said.

            “Very good. So you know Harry well, would you agree?”

            Hermione took in a breath, “I know Harry’s personality quite well, yes,” she said.

            Jake asked her a few questions about the events on Christmas Eve, and she answered similarly to Dumbledore, only with much more detail. Then she took a breath for the next questions. 

            “I’m going to cut right to the chase, Miss Granger,” Jake said. “Could you describe the events of March 21, 2004?”

            Hermione nodded. She gave a very detailed account of the confrontation Harry and Percy had had. She then said that Harry had stormed off into the woods to cool down for a while. In that time, Ginny arrived but ran upstairs and Percy also went into the house to talk with her. Hermione had stayed in the yard to wait for Harry to return so they could continue with the luncheon they had all planned. Ron had also remained with her. Fred and George had been up to monkey business but were also outside.

            “And when did Harry finally return?” Jake asked.

            “Harry came back twenty minutes later,” she said.

            “Could you describe his appearance?” she asked.

            “Well his clothes were sticking to him a bit, which was unusual. His face was straight and plain, as if he wasn’t feeling angry or any emotion, really. When he came closer to Ron and me, I could see that his eyes were glazed over a bit, as if he was deep in thought.”

            “And what happened next?” Jake asked gently.

            Hermione took a deep breath and folded and unfolded her hands. “I asked him how he was feeling and he started to yell at me.”

            “Were his eyes still glazed over like before?”

            “Yes,” Hermione answered.

            “What did he say?” Jake asked.

            “Well it didn’t make much sense to me. He yelled that he wouldn’t give in and that I wouldn’t win.”

            “And what did Harry do next?” Jake asked tenderly.

            “He started to hit me,” Hermione said bravely, keeping her upper lip steady. “I was knocked out pretty quickly.”

            “When you woke up and Ron told you what happened afterwards, what was your reaction?”

            Auferre shot out of his chair. “Objection. Miss Granger wasn’t an actual witness to the words Harry Potter said. It’s heresy, your honors.”

            Jake sighed. “Ron Weasley told Hermione what happened. She knows Ron just as well as Harry so she can have an opinion. She was there, your honors.”

            Giles pursed his lips. “Rephrase your question, counselor.”

            Jake thought a while. “What did you think about what Ron had to say about Harry’s behavior?” he asked.

            “Ron told me what Harry had said. Apparently Harry had left and seen Leucosia, who’s the leader of the Black Order.”

            “And do you think Harry is telling the truth?” Jake asked.

            “Absolutely,” Hermione said firmly. “Harry would never hit me, not ever. He thought he was striking Leucosia, not me. She had him under a spell. That’s why Harry’s clothes were wet, you see. He had been in water. There’s no other explanation for it.”

            “Thank you, Miss Granger. The prosecution will ask you some questions now.” Jake smiled at her and sat back down in his chair next to Harry.

            Auferre stood up but didn’t move to Hermione at first. “You said Harry’s clothes were sticking to him, correct?” he asked.

            “Yes,” Hermione said.

            “It was a warm day and Harry was angry. Couldn’t he have just worked himself up?” he asked.

            “I suppose,” Hermione said. “But it wasn’t that warm. It was cool, but not warm enough to break out into a sweat.”

            Auferre flipped through a few of his pages. “Did you see Harry walk into… Ithaca?” he asked.

            Hermione shook her head. “No,” she said.

            “But you saw Harry come back when he said he was in Ithaca, correct?”

            “Yes, but--”

            “And then he hit you?”

            “Yes,” she said.

            “Were you scared of Harry?” he asked as he walked forward.

            Hermione didn’t answer.

            Giles cleared his throat. “Answer the question, Miss Granger.”

            “In that moment, yes I was,” she said. She flipped a few more hair strands out of her face and continued to stare at her questioner.

            “You said you were knocked out pretty quickly, is that right?” he asked.

            “Yes,” Hermione said.

            “He must be very powerful to have done that.”

            “Objection,” Jake said. “Is there a question anywhere in that statement?”

            “Sustained,” Judge Giles said with the nod of his head.

            “Have you ever been in that much physical pain before, Miss Granger?” Auferre asked.

            Hermione swallowed and cast her eyes around the room. “It was a different kind of pain, I would have to say. It was more shocking I guess.”

            “Were you physically sore afterwards?” he pressed on.

            Hermione shut her eyes. “Yes,” she said in a shaky voice.

            Harry also closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands.

            “Thank you, Miss Granger. You may step down.”

            Hermione wasn’t as composed as she had been before. She stepped down and walked back to her seat and took several cleansing breaths.

            Then Ron was called forward. He stated his name and occupation just as Dumbledore and Hermione had, then was asked to tell his version of events on Christmas Eve, which were exactly the same as Hermione’s and Dumbledore’s. He was then asked to recall the events of March 21, 2004, just as Hermione had done, only his story continued after Hermione had been knocked unconscious.

            “And what did you and your brothers do then?” Jake asked.

            “Fred, George, and I pulled Harry away from Hermione. He looked confused, to be frank. I know now he didn’t mean to hit her, but he did hit her and it made me angry. Then I started to hit Harry for what he’d done to Hermione. All the while he was telling me about Leucosia, the leader of the Black Order. He said he’d seen her and been inside Ithaca.”

            “Now you met someone a while back who told you about this dagger, is that correct?” Jake asked as he lifted the dagger again to show Ron.

            “Yes,” Ron said, blushing slightly.

            “Please tell me about her.”

            “Harry and I went to investigate the meaning of the knife at the library. We met a woman there, Vanessa Deverauex. She said that the message on the knife was just a word scramble meaning, ‘show me Ithaca.’ She said the Grecian designs signified where the knife probably came from.”

            “So that’s why Harry refers to it as the Dagger of Ithaca?”

            “Yeah,” Ron said with a nod.

            “Did you believe Harry when he said he went to Ithaca and saw Leucosia?” Jake asked.

            Ron sighed. “I’m honestly not sure. But he says he was there…”

            “So you need more convincing, is that it?” Jake asked.

            “Yeah,” Ron said. “I want to believe him. I haven’t had much of a chance to talk with him since that whole ordeal.”

            “That’s understandable. Thank you.” Jake walked back to his seat. Auferre moved into position.

            “Mr. Weasley, could you tell me how Mr. Potter treated the former Minister of Magic, Harvey Wilson?” he asked.

            Ron expressed a crooked smile. “Harry treated Wilson like the most of us thought of him--like he was a joke.”

            A quiet laughter echoed through the courtroom and even Auferre smiled a bit. “So he didn’t take Wilson seriously?”

            “None of us did. So no, Harry didn’t.”

            “Did Mr. Potter ever tell you why he would be gone for months at a time, or where he was?”

            Ron quickly looked at Jake and Harry, then back to Auferre. “He told me he was working on the Black Order, but he didn’t tell me where.”

            “You would send owls to him, but they were forwarded to his office?” Jake continued.

            “Yeah.”

            “Didn’t you find that strange?” he asked.

            “Yes and no. I mean if Harry wanted to keep his location secret, then having a mess of owls dropping letters on him would give him away. On the other hand I was surprised he didn’t tell me because we’ve been friends for so long.”

            “So you had no idea where Mr. Potter was?”

            “Right,” Ron said with a confident nod of his head. “No bloody clue.”

            “And you accompanied Mr. Potter to Azkaban after the prisoners broke out, correct?”

            “Yes,” Ron said.

            “Were you with him when he questioned Draco Malfoy?”

            “No.”

            “I see. How quickly did he work out the scene of the crime? By that I mean how fast did Harry figure out what must have happened?”

            Ron made a funny face. “We got there and he started walking around and examining the scene, then he started piecing it together. Harry’s good at that, you know.”

            “And when Columbus Blair and his fellow investigators for Internal Affairs came to talk to Harry about Wilson’s murder, did Harry act at all suspicious?”

            “No,” Ron said dully. “Harry didn’t murder Wilson. I mean, Harry thought Wilson was an idiot, but he wouldn’t kill Wilson.”

            “Do you know if Harry’s ever killed someone before?” Auferre asked.

            “Objection,” Jake said from his seat.

            “Overruled,” Arthur Weasley said. “I would like to hear this.”

            Ron seemed unaffected by the question. “Harry killed You-know-who,” he said in a manner that was clear he thought Auferre was a so called ‘nutter.’

            “But to your knowledge, did Harry kill anyone else? Please keep in mind that you are testifying and are expected to tell the entire truth.”

            Ron looked as though he was thinking, but he shot a quick look at Harry. Harry was staring directly into his eyes with his hands folded before his mouth. Then Ron looked at Hermione, who shook her head so slightly, he thought he might have imagined it.

            “Answer the question Mr. Weasley,” Giles said.

            “No,” Ron said.

            Auferre looked taken aback. “He hasn’t murdered anyone before Voldemort?” he asked.

            “No,” Ron repeated firmly.

            “You’re sure?” Auferre repeated.

            Jake stood up. “The question has been asked and answered, your honors. Counselor Auferre cannot waste the court’s time by repeating himself.”

            Auferre backed down. He paced the courtroom as he pondered his next question. Ron, in the meanwhile, put on a face of sheer boredom, which brought a few smiles to the jury.

            “I have no further questions,” Auferre said, then took his seat. Ron sighed and walked back to his seat, winking at Harry as he passed the defendant’s table. Harry felt a certain gratitude toward Ron. How could he have thought Ron would betray him? He made a personal note to himself to do something really nice for Ron when this was all over. Harry examined his watch. Surprisingly, a lot of time had passed since the recess. He wondered whether or not there would be time for him to testify.

            “The defense would like to call Mrs. Audrey Wyatt to the stand,” Jake said with a subtle smirk. Harry could hear a soft murmur echo through the courtroom. Audrey stood gracefully from the front row and walked with an uneasy composure to the front. She also winked at Harry as she passed, but didn’t give him too much attention. Her short hair floated as she moved to the stand. Her long robes made her look much taller but didn’t detract from her beauty. She sat down in her chair and took a few deep breaths.

            Jake, still smiling, walked to her. “Please state your full name and occupation for the record.”

            “Audrey Michelle Taylor- Potter,” she said softly as a huge gust of suspicious and mysterious murmurs and mumbles swept the courtroom. “And I’m a stay-at-home mother.”

            Jake was now grinning from ear to ear as he turned to see how shocked the prosecution was. “And could you please tell the court what your relationship is to the defendant, Harry Potter?”

            Even the three judges were mystified by this news.

            “Harry’s my husband,” Audrey said with a soft smile.

            Finally Giles called for order in the court and silenced everyone once more.

            “How long have you been married to him?” Jake asked.

            “One year and one month today,” she said.

            “And how many years have you known Harry?” Jake continued.

            “Oh,” Audrey said as she tried to think, “I met him in 2001 at his Initiation into the Aurors. Three years about,” she said with a nod.

            Harry looked over at the prosecution, who were scrambling. They were searching through papers, passing notes back and forth, and whispering frantically amongst themselves. The red headed witch looked over at Harry, who gave a friendly wave and smile.

            “And how exactly did you and Harry see each other?” Jake asked her.

            “In secret,” she said. “Harry was afraid that if anyone found out about me, I was in danger. He’s paranoid about losing people he loves, which is understandable if you look at his past,” Audrey said.

            “Yes it is,” Jake said with a smile to the jury this time. “So Harry would go and see you and stay with you in secret for blocks of time?”

            “Yeah he did,” Audrey smiled at Harry. “At first he would just stay for a few days, but then it turned into weeks and eventually months. I wanted him to tell his friends at least, so I could meet them, but he insisted on secrecy. I know it became harder on him to leave because he loved it with us.”

            “Us?” Jake asked.

            “I have a daughter, Dana, from my past marriage with Aiden, who died years ago. Harry adopted her the same day we were married. Dana’s enamored with Harry, as he is with her. I told Harry his constant absences from his friends and from his office would make people suspicious, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to be with us.”

            “Would you say that you know Harry better than anyone, Mrs. Potter?” Jake asked.

            “Most definitely,” Audrey said with a grin.

            “Is Harry leader or involved in any way with the Black Order?” Jake asked.

            “No. When Harry was gone he was with me, not this Black Order people keep talking about. He would spend a lot of the day looking over information about them, but he rarely left the house.”

            “So he was still working on the Black Order, trying to figure them out?”
            “Yes. He couldn’t tell me what exactly he knew about them, because that’s classified, but he was working. Harry deserves a break. He’s been fighting evil all his life.”

            Jake smiled at the panicked prosecution, then panned his view to the jury and beamed at them. “That he has. Do you think Harry’s keeping anything from you?” he asked her.

            Audrey smiled to herself. “I know he isn’t,” she said.

            “Thank you for your testimony.” Jake turned to Auferre. “Your witness,” he said kindly to him. He went and sat back down next to Harry, who grinned at him. “That went well,” Jake said to Harry, “don’t you think?”

            Harry felt like laughing.

            Finally Auferre got his act together and approached Audrey. “Um, Mrs. Potter, how was your marriage to the defendant kept secret for so long?” he asked.

            “The man who married us and kept the records owed Harry his life. Harry asked for the records to remain secret and so they did.”

            “Uh huh,” Auferre said as he flipped through his parchment of questions. “Uh, you said that Harry would leave your presence occasionally when he was staying with you, is that correct?”

            “Yes,” Audrey answered simply.

            “Where would he go?” Auferre asked.

            “Well,” Audrey said, “different places. Sometimes he’d go to his flat in London to get a book, sometimes to the library, or his office, the store… just around really. Occasionally he’d take Dana to the park or out for an ice cream.”

            Auferre mumbled to himself as he scanned over his questions. “And Harry never told his friends about you?”

            “Not until very recently, no.”

            Auferre raised his head. “How recently?”

            “Months ago. He had to tell them after disappearing briefly. He was with me then and they demanded an explanation.”

            Auferre smiled. “So Ron Weasley was lying when he said he didn’t know where Harry was?” he asked.

            “No he wasn’t,” Audrey said before Jake could object. “You asked Ron if he had an idea, at the time, where Harry was. You asked it in such a way that it was past tense. Looking back, Ron knows now, but you didn’t ask it correctly,” she said politely. There were a few approving murmurs in the court.

            Auferre looked taken aback at her. “Do you think Harry is telling the truth when he talks about Leucosia?” he asked slowly.

            “Harry doesn’t lie to me, Counselor,” she responded, again politely. “I know he’s telling the truth. And he certainly isn’t delusional, as you want to paint him. When Harry said Voldemort had returned, as he had personally witnessed, the public condemned him and accused him of craziness, just like you’re doing now. From what he’s told me about Leucosia, she’s not an enemy to be reckoned with. I, for one, believe him.”

            Auferre lowered his head a little to look at his questions. “Thank you, Mrs. Potter.”

            Audrey smiled to herself and left the stand to sit back down in the front row just behind Harry. He turned around and beamed at her. Harry looked at his watch again; it was approaching evening.

            “The defense would like to call Harry Potter to the stand,” Jake said. Harry stood up; his knees were trembling, and walked to the stand, fully conscious that everyone had their eyes glued to him. He sat down in the chair which creaked a little and took a few cleansing breaths. It would all be over soon.

            Harry watched Jake approach him and ask to state his name and occupation.

            “Harry James Potter, Auror for the Ministry of Magic,” he said quickly. He had to clear his throat before he could speak again.

            “Harry, the prosecution’s largest grievance against you is that you were gone for weeks and months at a time over the last three years and you wouldn’t tell them where you were, do you agree?”

            Harry swallowed and nodded. “Yeah I do,” he said. He looked over at the jury and saw how focused they were on him.

            “But you were with Audrey during those times?”

            “Yes I was,” Harry said.

            Jake smiled and looked very confident.

            “Could you tell the jury what exactly happened on December the 24^th of last year?”

            Harry and Jake had gone over this twice during their rehearsal. “I had spent most of the day with Audrey and Dana, but had been invited to the Christmas Eve Dinner at Hogwarts. Both Ron and Hermione were going, and I wanted to make sure they saw me there so they wouldn’t get suspicious. For all they knew I was alone again. Then I showed up and started talking with my friends until I found the event dull. I was rude to them then left for a while to get some fresh air. When I went back inside to apologize and say my goodbyes, about eight men in black robes came into the Great Hall of Hogwarts by way of air. And I don’t mean they Apparated. No one can Apparate inside Hogwarts. These mean just came out of the air, and I know it sounds strange, but that’s what happened. Then they took everyone hostage, round them into a group, and requested that I come forward.”

            Harry took a breath and continued. He told them every detail he could remember about Malfoy’s words, the expression of Guy Burgess, and the battle that ensued between him and the other members of the Black Order. He was specific when he told the court of the spell Malfoy had placed on the hostages and how he could change their memories. “Which is why they don’t remember, even to this day, what really happened.”

            “And did you know or ever find out what the spell was or how it worked?”

            “I looked, but I never could find it, no,” Harry said.

            “What happened next?” Jake asked.

            Harry sighed and explained in detail the rest of the story. The jury reacted most, as he expected, to the stabbing. Harry told them what Malfoy said to him, (“I came for the heart of the lion!”) stabbed him in the heart, which felt cold, then kissed his cheek and left him to die. Harry didn’t tell the jury about his encounter with his dead godfather, nor had he told Jake about it.

            After a moment of dramatic pause, Jake nodded. “Harry,” he said in a changing the subject kind of way, “could you tell the court what you thought of Minister Wilson?”

            Harry made a crooked smile. “Ron pretty much summed it up for me. I thought he was an incompetent idiot,” he said. “I will say though, that before he was murdered, he was finally growing a spine. I’ll give him that.”

            Jake nodded again. “Did you kill the Minister?”

            “Absolutely not,” he said.

            “Did you have anyone kill the Minister?”

            “No,” Harry said.

            “All right, Harry,” Jake said, signaling another subject change, “tell me about March 21^st and Leucosia.”

            Harry quickly relayed the thoughts into his brain and organized them accordingly. The first part of his story gave a brief synopsis of the strange dreams he had had with the silver lion. Jake had advised him to just touch on the subject, but not go into great detail about it. Then Harry mulled over what Hermione and Ron had said about the beginning of the day in question. He told the jury about Percy’s words; then how he walked into the woods and saw his dream being played out. He described in painful detail about Ithaca, the sphinx’s clue, and Leucosia. He told them everything she had said to him, how she had said it, what she did (like twirling her finger in the pond) and about her silvery appearance. He concluded with his attack on Leucosia, which turned about to be Hermione. The jury looked stunned once he’d finished.

            “And Leucosia continued to haunt your mind even when you were in St. Mungo’s, correct?” Jake asked.

            “Yes. She even threatened to do something to my family.”

            “Leucosia can make you believe that she’s someone else?”

            “It seems that way,” Harry said. “She made me think she was Hermione and Doctor Simon.”

            “Just a few more questions, Harry,” Jake said. Harry was glad. “Are you the leader of the Black Order.”

            “No, and under better circumstances I would laugh at that accusation,” he said. The people on Harry’s side of the court smiled and laughed amongst themselves.

            “Are you in any way involved with the Black Order?” Jake asked.

            “Only in trying to stop them,” Harry said.

            “Thank you, Harry,” Jake said. He sat back down.

            Auferre stood up. “Your honors, I would like to reconvene tomorrow at eleven to question Mr. Potter.”

            Arthur Weasley nodded and looked to Jake. “Counselor Verit, would that be all right with you?” he asked.

            Jake stood up, thought about it, and nodded. “Yes,” he said.

            Giles looked down at Harry. “You may leave, Mr. Potter, but you will be questioned by the prosecution tomorrow.”

            Frowning slightly, Harry got up and went back to his table with Jake. “What’s going on?” he asked Jake under his breath.

            “We’re winning,” Jake said. “The prosecution will want to revamp their questions for you to account for Audrey’s testimony. They need more time so we’ll give it to them. We’ve got nothing to hide.”

            Harry looked over and saw all three prosecuting attorney’s whispering frantically.

            Once the three presiding judges rose and left, the court broke out into conversation. Harry whirled around to see Audrey, who was beaming at him.

            “I told you that would go well,” she said.

            “You did great,” Harry said to her. “I think I have to go back to my place, but I’m pretty sure you can come with me,” he said with a smile. He watched her brown eyes crinkle into a grin.

            “I’ll swing by the house, pack, pick up the little one, and I’ll be right over,” she said. “And I expect to see my ring on your finger,” she added as she grabbed his cloak and pulled him to her. “Now kiss me and be on your way,” she commanded him.

            From the second row Hermione watched Harry smile happily as he kissed his wife. He shut his eyes and softly kissed her in an intimate yet proper way. When he pulled back his face broke out into a grin and it looked as if he laughed a little. She couldn’t see Audrey’s face, just the back of her head. Even her short hair was perfect. Hermione broke her eyes away from them and gathered her coat and handbag.

            “Were you nervous?” Ron asked her suddenly.

            She looked up and nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I hardly slept at all last night I was so nervous about today,” she answered. “Were you?” she asked. Somehow this small talk with her other best friend calmed her down.

            “Vanessa told me my face was green,” Ron said with half a laugh. “I’m just glad it’s over with.”

            Hermione smiled to herself as she walked down the isle toward the main doors. “I haven’t told you that I like her, have I?” she asked Ron.

            “I thought you didn’t,” Ron said. He walked beside her out into the hall of the Department of Mysteries. He turned to face her.

            “She’s a great girl, Ron,” Hermione said. “I know I was skeptical about her before, but I really like her. She’s got a good personality and a great heart. She’s good for you.” She gave him another small smile.

            Ron looked at her for awhile then grinned back at her. “Thanks, Hermy,” he said.

            “It’s my pleasure, Ronnikins,” she said. She couldn’t help but hug him and kiss him as she pulled back. “I love you, you know,” she said.

            Ron’s ears turned pink. “Aw,” he said. “I love you too, Hermy.” He put his arm around her shoulders then started to walk her out of the Department of Mysteries. She wound one arm around his waste and let him guide her. “But I still don’t think Broadmoor deserves you,” he added awkwardly.

            Despite her strange feelings, Hermione let out a laugh. “Neither do I,” she said. “He’s about as thrilling as aluminum siding. No more Quidditch players for me.”

            “Thank goodness,” he said with a sigh. “So who now?” he asked her.

            Hermione took a deep breath as she entered the golden lift with Ron. It rose steadily to the atrium. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Things are so different with Harry being married and all. I don’t need someone right away. I can just be with me right now.”

            “Yeah you can,” Ron said. “And you’re a great person to be around, Hermione.”

            “Now you’re just kissing up to me,” Hermione laughed.

**

A much more relaxed and happier Harry Potter and Jacob Verit returned to Harry’s penthouse apartment that evening. They kept talking about the shocked faces of the prosecution attorneys when Audrey testified. Harry gave a few belly laughs which felt great and Jake echoed him.

            When Harry opened his door he was surprised to see many of his friends already there. They applauded Harry as he entered. Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny were among the Weasleys who were present. Fred and George were wearing matching suits and grins and yelled the loudest. Dumbledore was also in attendance, along with Remus Lupin, who looked happier than he ever had; Nymphandora Tonks, who was holding Remus’s hand; Rourke Everett, Harry’s classmate from Auror Training, with Vanessa Deverauex standing by Hermione were the other guests. He smiled when he saw them all in his support.

            “It’s a bit early to celebrate, isn’t it?” Harry asked them. But not even Jake would loosen his smile. No one else wanted to hear of it, either. Dobby was filtering through the crowd serving drinks, and a few people went to Harry to shake his hand. Of all the guests, Lupin seemed to be the happiest. He shuffled over to Harry with a beaming grin and shook him about the shoulders as he told him how happy he was for Harry.

            “She’s beautiful, Harry,” Remus said, almost laughing. “I’m so happy for you.”

            Harry couldn’t help smiling back at him. “Thanks, Professor.”

            “I can’t wait to meet her,” Remus continued.

            “She should be here shortly,” Harry said. And no sooner had the words left his mouth that the door opened and Audrey came inside with Dana on her hip. Dana was taking in the crowd then her eyes landed on Harry.

            Her entire face lit up in a beaming smile as she scrambled down to run to her father.

            “Daddy!” she screamed as she sprinted to him. Harry bent down and scooped her up into his arms and kissed her cheeks. He hugged her tightly then looked down on her smiling face.

            “I missed you,” he said to her.

            “I missed you too daddy,” she replied in her small voice he couldn’t get enough of. He kissed her three more times but didn’t release her.

            “Harry,” Audrey said quietly, as the entire room had gone silent.

            He looked up at her then around the room.

            “Oh,” he said. He gazed at his friends, but they were staring intently at both Audrey and Dana. “Everyone,” he said a bit awkwardly, “this is Audrey,” he said looking over.

            “I know that it’s everyone,” Audrey said with a smile to him. “Maybe individual introductions would be best, sweetheart.” She started first toward Lupin, who was the closest and had Harry follow her.

            Everyone seemed thrilled to meet Audrey, Dana more so. They shook Audrey’s hand then had to shake Dana’s, who thrust her hand out toward them with a very loud, “Hi!”

            Finally they came to Vanessa and Hermione. Vanessa gave Audrey a polite smile and a “pleased to meet you,” then cooed over Dana.

            “And we’ve already met,” Audrey said to Hermione as she extended her hand. “I’m sorry I lied to you before. Harry didn’t want me to say. You know how he is.”

            Hermione took her hand. “Yeah I do. It’s nice to meet you properly,” she said.

            “Harry’s told me all about you and Ron. I’m so glad I’m finally meeting you both in person. And I’m sorry Mr. Stubborn wouldn’t tell you about me. I’ve insisted for years that he should,” she continued in her quiet voice.

            Hermione sighed as she looked at Audrey. “That’s all right,” she said. Then she turned her attention to Dana.

            “Hi!” Dana said, stretching out her hand to her.

            “And this is Dana,” Harry said as he smiled at his little girl.

            “Hi there, Dana,” Hermione said, taking Dana’s tiny hand.

            “This is Hermione,” Harry said to her.

            Dana frowned in concentration and moved her lips funnily. “Hewrminee,” she said slowly.

            Harry laughed as he looked at her then at Hermione.

            “Close enough,” Hermione said. But then Dana’s attention turned to Dobby. She clambered out of Harry’s arms and ran at the house elf. Then Audrey turned to Harry.

            “I’m going to put my stuff in the bedroom,” she said. “Is it down there?” she asked, pointing down the hallway.

            “Yeah,” he said, “through the double doors. How much stuff did you bring?”

            “Not a lot,” she said with a rueful smile. She kissed his lips, turned to Hermione and said again how nice it was to meet her, then walked down the hall with a few of her bags. Harry watched until she disappeared from view then turned back to Vanessa and Hermione.

            “She seems nice,” Vanessa said first. “But Dana’s my favorite.”

            Harry chuckled. “You owe me 150 galleons,” he said straight out.

            “Do not,” Vanessa contended. “You paid me for my knowledge and you used that knowledge. I don’t owe you one knut.”

            “What you did was extortion. Besides, if it hadn’t been for me you would’ve never met Ron,” he argued.

            Hermione watched them argue, but didn’t hear them.

            “You don’t know that,” Vanessa snapped back. “It’s a very small world, you know. And it’s not extortion, it’s capitalism. Besides,” she said with a smile, “I’ve already spent it. And I wouldn’t give it back to you even if I had gold coming out my ears.”

            Hermione set down her drinking glass. “Harry,” she said, “could I use the loo?” she asked.

            Vanessa turned her attention to Hermione.

            “Of course,” Harry told her. But he scanned her eyes as if searching for the real reason she was going suddenly.

            “Great.” She slung her bag strap higher on her shoulder then marched toward the lavatory. She pushed open the door, closed it behind her, and examined her reflection in the mirror.

            Vanessa sighed. “I’m not paying you back,” she said again. “Do you have another loo?”

            “You will pay me back, and yes I do. But Audrey’s in my room so you’ll have to wait for Hermione to finish in the main one.” He raised his eyebrows at her then went to talk to some of his other friends.

            Vanessa took the opportunity to briskly walk to the lavatory and knock on the door.

            “I’m using it,” Hermione said from the other side of the door.

            “It’s me, Vanessa,” she whispered. She waited a few seconds, then the door opened and Vanessa skirted inside. Hermione had already begun crying and was now blowing her nose.

            “She’s not that pretty,” Vanessa said instantly. “I think you’re prettier than she is. And she doesn’t strike me as a genius, so you’re smarter even.”

            Hermione walked to a corner of the small room and sunk down to the floor. She dabbed at her eyes with her tissue and sniffled loudly. Vanessa took a seat beside her and flung her arm around Hermione’s shoulders.

            Then the bathroom door opened again and Ginny Weasley came inside.

            “Hi,” she said gingerly. She walked over to sit on Hermione’s other side and took her hand. “It’ll be okay,” she said soothingly.

            Hermione frowned. “I’m being so selfish,” she cried.

            Vanessa rolled her eyes. “What’s so wrong with mourning your loss?” she asked.

            “Because I should be happy that he’s happy,” she sobbed, dabbing her eyes again.

            Ginny sighed and shook her head. “Hermione, you will be eventually. But right now it’s okay to be sad about it. You love him.”

            Hermione sniffed loudly again and got herself composed. “Why?” she suddenly asked.

            Both Ginny and Vanessa were taken aback by the question. Hermione went on.

            “Why do I love him?” she asked. “He’s wrought with problems. He’s an emotional train wreck, for crying out loud. Why do I love him?” she asked her two friends.

            Ginny and Vanessa exchanged expressions. “Because Harry has moments when he’s such a gentleman. He’s brave, courageous, he has a great sense of humor when he’s not angry, and apparently he’s a good father, which is the biggest turn on for women,” Ginny explained. “Hermione, in a few weeks you’ll be fine. You’ll be happy for Harry like you want to be. But right now it’s okay to be sad that he’s with someone else. It was obvious that you loved him so much.”

            “She’s right you know,” Vanessa said to her. “You’ll be okay. You’ll go on and meet someone who’ll be your knight in shining armor. And he won’t be an emotional train wreck. Trust me on this. I’m the product of what happened to you.”

            Hermione frowned again and looked in her eyes. “What?”

            Vanessa smiled. “Ron didn’t tell you? My mum was engaged to Sirius Black. I don’t think I need to cover what happened there. She’s happily married to my father now and had three babies. You’ll be fine Hermione.”

            Hermione wiped her eyes slowly then looked to Vanessa and Ginny. “Thanks for the support,” she said to them.

            Ginny smiled and hugged her.

            “Aw, group hug,” Vanessa said as she joined them.

**

Jake was the last to leave the early celebration party. He told Harry that he’d be back the following morning for the continuation of the trial. Then Harry was alone in his home with Audrey, Dana, and Dobby, Dana’s new best friend. Dobby was the same height as Dana, so he proved to be a good playmate for her.

            But it was late now. The rooms were illuminated with glowing candles which Audrey had lit. In her opinion Harry’s flat needed a woman’s touch, and she was quick to lay her fingers on it. He admitted it needed it--perhaps not the pink doily on the bed stand, but everything else was great. Audrey had fixed up the guest room to suit Dana’s needs. She was asleep in a second after the long day, her thumb in her mouth. Audrey and Harry made sure she was tucked in securely and couldn’t get out. Then Harry locked all the windows and balcony doors so Dana couldn’t go outside even if she did get out of her bed.

            Harry walked into his bathroom to brush his teeth and prepare for bed. He felt a great relief even though the trial hadn’t reached its worst. The prosecution would have their turn tomorrow, but somehow having his family with him was an immense comfort. When he was rinsing his toothbrush to replace it in the cabinet, he looked up and saw Audrey behind him in the mirror’s reflection. She smiled at him.

            She was wearing a pink camisole and baggy pink pajama pants. She wore a heart-shaped silver locket around her neck, with two pictures inside it: one of Harry, the other of Dana.

            Harry put his toothbrush away but continued to stare at her in the mirror. She laughed then walked to him and wrapped her arms around his chest.

            “There,” she said to his reflection.

            Harry smiled back at her and covered her hands with his.

            “This is how it should be,” she said. “The whole world knows about us now. No one’s tried to kill us,” she added, “and your trial is going smoothly. Your wife and daughter are with you and love you very much. You have your health, all your friends, and a clean conscience. How does it feel?” she asked him.

            Harry let out a sigh. “Strange,” he said.

            Audrey rested her chin on his shoulder. “Happiness will take some getting used to.” She moved her arms and wound them around his waist. “Have I ever told you that I think you’re the most handsome man in the world?”

            Harry laughed. “No. You probably didn’t it want it going to my head.”

            “That’s probably it. Well you are. We make a very cute couple, to be quite honest.”

            Harry couldn’t stare at her reflection any longer. He turned around to face her and grabbed onto her waist and pulled her close to him. Audrey made a giggle sound in her throat but didn’t let it escape her lips. “Feeling romantic?” she asked him.

            “I’m warming up,” he said in a low, raspy voice.

            She grabbed his neck and pulled herself toward him for a long kiss. Then she drew back suddenly and walked backwards toward the bed, beckoning him with one finger. Harry followed at a distance.

            “What’s gotten into you?” he asked her.

            She laughed and climbed on the bed, exaggerating her movements for him. “I missed you,” she said as she looked back at him. She lay down and smoothed out the spot beside her. “Come and be a good boy,” she said, patting a spot beside her.

            It was too much for Harry. He burst out laughing at her.

            “What’s so funny?” she asked, though she was also laughing. She jumped off the bed and walked over to Harry, who was laughing so hard he was crying. “I can’t believe you’re laughing when we’re trying to be intimate.”

            “You’re trying so hard,” he managed through his fit.

            Audrey placed her hands on her hips.

            “Now you’re trying to be serious, and that’s not working either,” he told her. “I still have a lot on my mind.”

            “I know,” she said. She took his hands and pulled him toward the bed. “Free your mind, Harry. You’re going to win this case, I just know it. Now come on over here,” she said, feeling the bed on the back of her legs. She ran her hands up and down his bare chest and locked eyes with him. She slid her hands around his back and leaned against him then kissed his cheeks and down his jaw line. She could feel him relax instantly. Then suddenly the candles in the room extinguished as he picked her up and laid her on the bed.

**

It took the blinding sunlight to jar Harry from his peaceful sleep. When he saw an orangey brown color through his eyelids and felt the need to squint, he realized it was late morning. He turned over in his bed to open his eyes so he could readjust to the change in light. It appeared to be another beautiful day. His dark walls were bright from the blazing sunlight that pierced his bedroom windows. Audrey was still sound asleep beside him. He laid a hand on her hair and pulled himself toward her to plant a kiss on her cheek.

            He rolled over and took his glasses from his bed stand to put them on. He sat up and stretched, then ran his hands through his hair and sighed. There was a soft noise coming from the living room area. He looked around the room for some pants, summoned them to him, and put them on to go see what the noise was. He opened and shut his doors quietly so Audrey could keep sleeping and traipsed down the hallway.

            It turned out that Dobby and Dana were playing. Dana, still in her one-piece pink pajamas, was dancing around with Dobby, who was bouncing on the furniture. Harry was sure Audrey would condemn furniture jumping, but she was still asleep. Harry walked into his kitchen to make some coffee and check the time on a wall clock. It was eight.

            Dana ran into the kitchen and rammed Harry’s legs.

            “Whoa,” he said to her with a grin.

            She giggled and clung onto his leg, sitting on his foot. Harry smiled to himself as he poured coffee into two cups, then picked them up, and began his journey to his room. Dana continued to giggle with each step Harry took. After a few steps she would say “boom!” when Harry’s foot would fall.

            Harry opened his doors with his mind and walked in with Dana’s rhythmic, “boom!” every other step. Harry saw Audrey peek her eyes open and grin.

            “Good morning,” she said. Dana released Harry’s leg and ran onto the bed and started to jump. “What does mummy say about jumping on the furniture, young lady?” Audrey yawned.

            Dana stopped jumping and snuggled with her mother.

            “Coffee,” Harry said as he handed her a cup.

            “Bless you,” she replied. “Are you nervous?” she asked.

            “Do I look nervous?” he asked. He sat down on the bed with his coffee and drank down half of it at once.

            “Honestly, yeah,” she said.

            “Hmmm,” Harry mumbled. “Yesterday was supposed to be easy. Today the other side gets to poke around. The side I always side with.”

            “It’s a human system,” Audrey said. “Human systems always have flaws because no one’s perfect. Besides,” she said with another yawn, “what could possibly go wrong?”

**

At eleven that morning the court had reconvened. Arthur Weasley sat on one side of the judge panel, William Giles in the middle, and Olga McClelan (Harry learned her name moments before) sat on the other side. The jury appeared rested, as did everyone else. Jake had his notepad ready for questions he’d think to ask, and Harry sat with his hands folded until he was called.

            There were only two prosecution attorney’s seated at the table today. Harry kept shooting his eye over to see why. The redhead was missing in action and the other two attorneys didn’t seem concerned about it. They hadn’t called Harry to the stand yet because they had requested to wait until their colleague had arrived.

            “Why do they need her here?” Harry whispered to Jake.

            Jake shrugged his shoulders in a casual manner. “Look unconcerned,” Jake told him.

            Harry leaned back in his chair and stared straight ahead of him.

            When five minutes had passed, Giles spoke. “Counselor Auferre,” he said, “I will not wait any longer.”

            Auferre stood up. “If it would please the court, the prosecution would like to call their own witness and call the defendant when we have--” he stopped as the back door opened and his colleague slipped in and nodded, then walked to the front. “Yes, your honor. We would like to begin now.”

            Harry’s heart rate accelerated and his palms started to sweat.

            “You’ll be fine,” Jake said to him.

            “Please take a seat up here, Mr. Potter,” Giles said, signaling with his eyes to the witness’s chair.

            Harry took two cleansing breaths, pushed his chair back, stood up, and began his slow march to his chair. He couldn’t help but think of when his name had been drawn from the Goblet of Fire. Finally he took his seat. From here he could see the entire courtroom. Each person seated in the court became insanely visible; the jury’s faces were really close to him now, and the judges were to his immediate right, only fearfully higher up than he was. He swallowed nothing, as his throat was incredibly dry, then focused his attention on Counselor Auferre, who was approaching him.

            “Good morning, Harry,” he said kindly.

            “Good morning,” Harry responded.

            Auferre looked into Harry’s eyes and paced the room. “How do you think you survived the stabbing incident?” he asked.

            Harry thought that was a strange question to have asked, but simple enough. “I don’t know,” he said with the shrug of his shoulders.

            “It was a miracle you survived,” Auferre said, “don’t you think?”

            “Yes,” Harry said slowly. “It’s a miracle I saw my second birthday, actually.”

            “Too true,” Auferre said. “Yesterday you told the court that when you were with your wife, you were also working, correct?” he asked.

            Harry looked at Jake then to Auferre. “Yeah,” he said slowly.

            Auferre folded his hands behind his back and nodded to himself. “Did you do anything special?” he asked.

            “Being with my family was special,” he replied. “I’m afraid you’ll have to clarify.”

            Auferre moved his lips about. “Did you do anything out of the ordinary?”

            “Objection,” Jake said. “Where is this going?”

            Giles cleared his throat. “Sustained.”

            “I have a point, your honors, I promise,” Auferre said.

            “Get to it fast,” McCelan added.

            Auferre turned back to Harry. “Out of the ordinary… Did you meet with anyone, or work on something special while you were away?”

            Harry sighed and shut his eyes. “I did nothing with the Black Order, if that’s what you mean.”

            When Harry opened his eyes he saw Auferre was walking back to his table. “So you weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary? You weren’t doing anything any other wizard wouldn’t do?”

            Harry shook his head. “No,” he said.

            “Are you a metamorphmagus?” he asked.

            “Yes, but I’m not very good at it. I haven’t had much practice.”

            “Are you an Animagus?” he asked right after.

            “No.”

            Auferre turned his back to Harry and picked up something from the table. Harry couldn’t see what it was.

            “Do you have telekinetic abilities?” he asked.

            “Yeah,” he said, frowning now. He looked over at Jake hoping for an objection.

            Then Auferre whirled around and threw a knife at Harry. It happened so fast, the people in the courtroom didn’t have time to react to it.

            In a fraction of a second from the time the knife was thrown, Harry raised his hand and stopped the knife in midair before it came within eight feet of him. It remained stationed in the air, as if it were stuck their permanently. Then everyone exclaimed sounds of shock and surprise.

            “What is the meaning of this!” Giles demanded.

            Auferre smiled. “No one has reflexes that fast, your honors,” he said in a raised voice to accommodate for the loud chatter in the courtroom. “I threw that knife faster than anyone could have thrust it with their hands, but the defendant has stopped it before it came too close, or even remotely close,” he said. The court was listening to what he had to say. “In fact,” Auferre continued, “no human alive has reflexes that fast.”

            “Are you suggesting Harry Potter isn’t human?” Giles asked.

            “No,” Auferre said.

            Harry sat silently in his chair, breathing hard and sweating as he watched the scene unfold.

            Auferre walked over and pulled the knife from the air as he stared at Harry.

            Jake shot out of his chair but Auferre did not turn around to see him. “Your honor,” Jake said angrily, “Counselor Auferre has tried to murder my client. I would like it very much if he was removed from the courtroom!”

            “Your honors,” Auferre countered, “there are only two ways Harry Potter could have stopped that knife. One, he’s more than human and possesses extremely fast reflexes, or two, Harry knew I was going to throw it before I actually did. You see the reason I did it. I had to test my theory.” He looked back at Harry and smiled.

            Harry looked at the faces in the courtroom. Everyone was staring at him as if he was some kind of circus freak. Even Hermione looked stunned beyond words.

            “And if his theory had failed,” Jake continued after a delay, “he would have certainly injured my client!”

            “But I didn’t, your honor. Harry stopped it and the court should be asking how he did it!” he yelled.

            “Order in this court!” Giles yelled. “There will be a meeting in chambers.” The courtroom broke out into mumbles and whispers as all three judges and Auferre and Jake walked into the back room. Harry was left in the witness chair to be gawked and stared at. He saw Ron and Hermione were fixated on him, as was everyone else. Harry looked from face to face, but couldn’t take their expressions anymore, so he dropped his head. It felt like years before the private, unseen meeting had ended. Harry was expecting to be sent out of his chair, like Jake had probably wanted, but upon return the five of them acted as if nothing had happened.

            “Continue with your questions,” Giles told Auferre.

            Harry shot a questioned look to his attorney, who was staring straight ahead of him, not at Harry.

            “Mr. Potter,” Auferre asked, “do you have precognitive abilities?” he asked.

            Harry swallowed hard. He wanted Jake to stand up and object.

            “Do you know when something dramatic will happen next?” Auferre pressed on. “Answer my question!”

            Harry turned his eyes to him and slowly nodded. Once again the courtroom let out sounds of shock.

            “So why,” he continued, “was the ‘Dagger of Ithaca’ able to penetrate your heart back in December? Why did you allow, you say Malfoy, to stab you? Why didn’t you stop him? Why did you let him nearly murder you?” he asked.

            Harry suddenly realized that his heart was pounding out of control. “I didn’t know he--”

            “But you knew I was throwing that knife. That happened much faster than having someone raise their hand,” he said, pulling his hand into the air, “and plunging it down. But you didn’t stop it.”

            “I couldn’t,” he responded quickly. “They were stronger than I was!” Harry cried. “Why would I allow anyone to do that to me?”

            “How should I know?” he answered back. “Because you knew you would survive, maybe. You knew it would make you appear innocent.”

            “I didn’t know ahead of time what they were planning on,” Harry protested.

            “Why not? What was so different about them?” he demanded.

            Harry shook his head in thought. “Maybe they knew Occlumency,” he suggested.

            “Occlumency?” Auferre asked. “How would them being able to block you from entering their mind make it difficult for you to predict their actions?” He raised his eyebrows at Harry but was unaffected by the suggestion.

            Harry shut his mouth and stared.

            Auferre walked back to his table and picked up a book, then walked back. “Mr. Potter,” he continued, “do you know who Clarice Starling is?”

            Harry considered mentioning that the name was used for the protagonist in Silence of the Lambs, but knew he shouldn’t.

            “She wrote a book,” Auferre pressed. “It was published rather recently, actually. Late October of last year. It’s called ‘Telepathy: The Hidden Power in Magic.’ Do you know who she is?”

            “Sure,” Harry said in what he hoped sounded calm.

            “Do you know her personally?” Auferre asked.

            Harry didn’t answer.

            “She’s yay high,” Auferre went on, leveling his hand just below the middle of his chest, “in her early nineties; her eyesight isn’t too good; she has a kind disposition. You know her?” He walked closer to Harry and leaned his arm over onto the witness box. “And I should tell you that lying about it will only cost you credibility. You see, Mrs. Starling is my next witness. So I’ll ask you again, Mr. Potter, do you know Clarice Starling personally?”

            Harry shut his eyes and dropped his head. “Yes,” he breathed.

            “And why is that?” Auferre asked.

            Harry opened his eyes and moistened his lips. “I met her a few years ago.”

            “What were the circumstances?”

            “I,” he started. He didn’t want to look up to see the courtroom. “I went to her house.”

            Harry could tell without looking that his questioner was grinning. “Why?” he continued.

            Harry finally looked up to see Jake, hoping for an objection, but Jake remained as still as a statue, eager to hear what Harry had to say, just like everyone else.

            “Because I was having some trouble,” he said slowly and quietly.

            “What kind of trouble? Please be specific, Harry, and speak up so everyone can hear you.”

            Auferre stepped back a little so Harry had a grander view of the courtroom. “It’s hard to explain,” he said.

            “I bet it is,” he said. Harry was reminded heavily of Columbus Blair. “I just have a few more questions for you. Do you have telepathic abilities?”

            Harry looked at the floor and kept his jaw locked.

            “Answer the question,” Giles said from above him.

            “Yes, but--”

            “Can you hear the thoughts of other people?” he asked.

            Harry screwed his eyes shut this time. “Sometimes, but--”

            “Have you told your friends, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and members of his family, or Dumbledore about this ability of yours?”

            “No because--”

            “Those are all my questions. You may step down,” Auferre said dismissively.

            “I can explain!” Harry yelled.

            “But you just said it was hard to explain. Your time is up, Mr. Potter. Step down so I can call my next witness.”

            “Step down, Mr. Potter” Giles said to him.

            Harry remained seated and turned to the jury so he could explain.

            “I said step down, Mr. Potter,” Giles repeated.

            Harry stood up and walked back to his seat. His legs felt like rubber and his chair felt like it was shaking when he sat in it. Jake didn’t turn to him--the jury was scowling at Harry.

            “You may call you first witness, Counselor,” Giles said to Auferre.

            “The prosecution will call Clarice Starling to the stand.”

            And from the back of the court the double doors opened and a small and elderly woman, walking with a cane, hobbled to the front. Auferre took her arm and escorted her to the witness stand. The skin on Clarice’s face hung loosely. She had hundreds of wrinkles, most of them about her cloudy blue eyes, and her hair was white and thin.

            “For the record,” Auferre said, “could you state your full name and occupation.”

            “Yes,” she said in a shaky old voice. “Clarice Starling, teacher, writer, and mentor. I don’t have a middle name.”

            “Mrs. Starling, how long have you been mentoring Harry Potter?” he asked.

            “Oh,” she said, folding her shaking hands in her lap. “He came to me in desperation late August of 2001. The poor soul didn’t know what was wrong with him. But I knew as soon as I realized he had come to see me, that Harry had just unlocked his telepathic abilities.”

            Harry sighed as his head fell into his hands.

            “How did you know that, Mrs. Starling?”

            “He was shaking with stress, he was very worried and desperate. Harry could hear and see the thoughts of countless people and couldn’t stop them. It was like a badly tuned radio and Harry couldn’t turn off the voices in his head. He came to me so I could help him. I was glad to, of course,” she added with a smile. “I always love to help.”

            “Harry can hear and see the thoughts of other people?”

            “Yes. But he didn’t want to. Harry thinks telepathy is a curse, not a gift.”

            “Uh huh,” Auferre said to the jury. “And just how did you help Harry? Please be as specific as you can.”

            Clarice took some time to gather her thoughts. “Well,” she began, “I told him that controlling his new power would take years of hard work and practice, mostly in total isolation. But he didn’t want to leave. He had just met Audrey and was falling in love with her. He didn’t tell me that,” she said, “I just knew he found someone. Then I asked him if anyone in his family had been telepathic. Usually small signs occur just after the twenty-first birthday. Sometimes it takes longer and is more gradual, but other times, like Harry’s, it comes violently. But he didn’t know. How could he have?”

            “So if he didn’t want to learn the long and solitary way,” Auferre started, “how did you teach him?”

            “Well,” she said, “there are some quick fixes, but they aren’t meant to be used alone.”

            “Quick fixes? Drugs?”

            “Well, potions more like. I told Harry I would provide him with the potion if he promised to see me so we could train his mind,” she said. Clarice nodded to him.

            “What kind of potion?”

            “Oh it’s called spectareminure. It’s very powerful. It helps Harry to filter out and sometimes block his mind off from others.”

            “So it helps him to control the voices he hears?” Auferre asked as he looked at the jury.

            Harry saw Jake glare at him.

            “Well yes. It makes it easier for him to control his ability. But he still needed to be taught.”

            Auferre walked back over to his table over and picked up her book. He started to flip through the pages but continued to ask questions.

            “Mrs. Starling, what did you teach Harry to do first?”

            “I taught him how to protect his own mind. He already had the basic experience needed for this. I told him in order to stop the thoughts of others, he would first need to block his mind so I couldn’t see inside. It‘s a first step toward control.”

            “You could see inside Harry’s mind?” he asked.

            She made her lips thin. “Harry learned how to block very quickly. The Occlumency he was taught before helped him. I wasn’t able to see much.”

            Auferre nodded his head. “Then what did you do?”

            Harry tapped Jake’s shoulder and whispered, “Why are you letting this go on?”

            He turned around slowly. “Because there’s nothing I can object to.”

            Clarice took a drink of water. “I tried teaching him how to control his telepathy. I tried to help him stop the voices.”

            “You tried?” he asked.

            “Yes,” she said sadly. “In order for me to teach him how to do it properly, he would have to open up his mind to me, and he was never willing to do that. There has to be complete trust for me to teach properly, but he just didn’t want me to see inside of him.”

            There were murmurs in the crowd now, but Clarice continued.

            “It’s not strange for this to happen,” she insisted. “How many of you want your deepest secrets, thoughts, or past opened up for a stranger to see? I am old and remember what it was like to be young. But age had nothing to do with Harry. Harry didn’t want me to see because he didn’t want to relive it. There are demons in his past.”

            “So you can’t read Harry’s mind because he won’t let you?” Auferre asked.

            “The mind cannot be read. It is much more intricate than that, Mr. Auferre. But I cannot see into his mind because he doesn’t wish it.”

            Auferre smiled and looked to the jury. “Can anyone else see into his mind?” he asked.

            “No. Harry would have to let his guard down for someone to see inside.”

            “That’s interesting,” he said. He opened her book to a certain page. “You write in your book that telepaths have the ability to send messages, not only to telepaths, but to anyone if they know how, correct?”

            “A powerful telepath, yes.”

            Auferre shut the book but kept it in his two hands. “Only really powerful. Is Harry that powerful in your opinion?” he asked.

            Clarice took some time to think, and in that time she gazed over at Harry with her weak eyes and sent him a sad smile. “It’s hard to say,” she replied.

            “But it’s not impossible for Harry to transmit messages, even plans to someone else?”

            “I know where you’re going with this, young man,” she said to him. “Nothing is ever impossible, but Harry wouldn’t send schemes and orders to maniacal men.”

            “You don’t think he would do that?”

            “No.”

            “Mrs. Starling, is it a fact that at this very moment, Harry could be looking inside my mind, or the jury’s minds, or anyone in this room for that matter? Is it possible he could do that?” he asked. He paced around the front as he awaited her answer.

            “Yes it is.”

            “So if Harry wants, if he has the control, he can see inside someone’s mind at any given moment?” he continued.

            “If he has the control, yes.”

            Harry shut his eyes and bit his lip. They didn’t understand, none of them did. Harry had tried to see inside Malfoy’s mind. He tried to see inside Leucosia’s mind. But they blocked him. Leucosia had to have given them her power. Why couldn’t they understand that?

            “And could anyone but a trained telepath or someone who was familiar with Occlumency be able to stop Harry from entering his or her own mind?”

            Clarice sighed and shook her head. “No.”

            “So,” Auferre started at her, “if Harry told you that a strange woman could see into his mind and was toying with his thoughts, what would you say?”

            Clarice kept her mouth sealed shut. She started to flatten out some creases on her skirt and fiddle with a handkerchief in her hands. 

            “Mrs. Starling?” he asked again.

            “I don’t know what I would say.”

            He nodded understandingly and put his hands in his pockets. “I have only one more question for you. Does Veritaserum work effectively on someone with a high telepathic aptitude?”

            Clarice shook her head. “No.”

            “Thank you,” he said. He walked confidently back to his table. Jake picked up his parchment pad and walked toward Clarice now. She smiled at him, showing her white teeth.

            “Mrs. Starling,” he started, not sounding as confident as he had been yesterday, “how much training is required to start sending messages telepathically?”

            “A few years of hard work. It all depends on the individual ability. I don’t think Harry has reached that level yet. He would come and see me occasionally so we could practice together, but again, Harry didn’t give me his full trust.”

            “So you didn’t make enough progress for him to… transmit?” he asked.

            “I don’t think so,” she said firmly.

            Jake poured over his notes again and paced around thoughtfully. “With your knowledge of Harry, and your expertise, do you think he is leader of the Black Order?” he asked.

            “No,” she said.

            “Thank you,” he said. He walked back to his chair and nearly fell in it. Clarice left the courtroom slowly with the help of the bailiff.

            “How could you let that happen?” Harry hissed in Jake’s ear.

            Jake turned around with his brows furrowed and kept his voice to a low hush. “As your attorney you should have prepared me for anything. You only told me about your wife, but nothing of this telepathy or precognition. Harry, don’t you know what this means? It means that, no matter where you were, you could still send orders to the Black Order. It means that, if you can prognosticate and see into someone’s mind, then you should have prevented your own stabbing and the entire hostage situation. God only knows who the prosecution will call next! You should have told me everything! I can’t help you anymore.”

            Harry scowled back at him. “I didn’t do it,” he said.

            “We’ll have difficulty proving it now,” Jake said to him, then turned to face the front of the room.

            Next the prosecution called Langston Colby, an expert potions master. He was in his late seventies and had been working on potions for most of his life. The prosecution had called him to discuss the properties and purposes of the spectareminure potion, the one Harry was taking. Colby told the court that the potion was very powerful and effected the brain in more ways than one. The potion took effect on the deeper thought processes in the Cerebral Cortex, which controlled many of the body’s functions. A telepath’s communication center of the brain was hyperactive. The potion would slow it down and make it easier for the telepath to make sense of the information given to him, as well as messages sent.

            But there were side effects to the potion. Because it is so powerful, the drinker could become heavily agitated, be wrought with migraines, or sometimes become violent because of the effect it had on the brain. Colby went on to say that the potion wasn’t to be taken in large doses or very often for it could cause permanent damage to the brain.

            “So how would someone keep taking the potion in small enough doses to stay in control?” Auferre asked.

            “We found out that Mr. Potter was having cigarettes sent to his flat. They contain a small enough amount of the potion in dry form. The same effects take place but the danger of it is lessened. The potion has quite a lasting effect, meaning its power could last for a few weeks, but then Mr. Potter would have to start on it again or he’d have some horrible relapses.”

            “What kind of relapses?” Auferre asked.

            “He’d be overwhelmed by incoming thoughts, voices, and images from the population.”

            “I see. Mr. Colby would it be possible for this potion to cause the drinker to become delusional?” he asked.

            “There have been very rare instances when someone has become delusional. Usually he or she will have taken the potion for too long or relied on it too heavily, so it becomes a problem. They will become overly agitated and violent, and along with that perhaps paranoid about the thoughts they hear.”

            Auferre nodded and looked to the jury. “Could the delusion take its own form, say as a separate personality?”

            Colby sighed. “As to that I’m not sure. That would best be covered by someone who studies that kind of thing. But I wouldn’t rule it out.”

            Auferre nodded in a final manner and walked back to his seat.

            “Does everyone who takes this potion have the side effects?” Jake asked from his seat.

            “No,” Colby replied.

            “Thank you. I have no further questions.”

            Colby stepped down and left the courtroom.

            Harry, once again, turned to Jake. “That was it? That was all you could ask him? Maybe I should remind you at this time, that I’m paying you to defend me!” he hissed.

            “I’m doing my best. What should I have asked him?” Jake whispered.

            “You’re the attorney, think of something,” Harry suggested.

            “Well maybe you could’ve invaded his mind and found out what questions would’ve discredited him, Harry,” Jake said. He leaned back in his chair and waited until the next witness was called. Harry almost puked when Doctor Marc Simon was called to the stand. He had seen enough of him in a few days to last a life time. He took the stand calmly and answered all of the preliminary questions with ease.

            Of course Marc wasn’t asked about Harry’s good side, only what nutty things he’d said. Primarily Marc’s testimony concerned the possibility that Harry was delusional. But Marc kept to his original word to Harry--he never mentioned any specifics. Not that what he said helped Harry in any remote way.

            “Doctor Simon,” Auferre continued to ask, “in your expert psychological opinion, do you believe that Leucosia is a real enemy of Harry’s?”

            “I believe that Leucosia is a delusion which gradually built itself up in Harry’s troubled mind. I don’t think he intended for her to be created, but his mind created another persona which could fulfill his secret wishes. In other words, Leucosia was created to carry out Harry’s biddings.”

            “Are you saying,” the counselor asked, “that Leucosia could in fact be a separate personality of his?”

            “Yes,” Marc said.

            “But she’s a woman.”

            “That’s something that makes it more believable. The multiple personalities can include both sexes. In Harry’s case, Leucosia would represent a mother figure. She wants him to be with her, she’s powerful, and she has the capability of striking fear in him. But Leucosia is just out of reach, just like a mother figure would be in Harry’s sense. Leucosia, on some level, wants to protect Harry from the public because she believes the public will harm him.”

            “That’s insane!” Harry yelled from his seat.

            “You will remain silent, Mr. Potter, or I’ll remove you from this courtroom,” Giles commanded him. Harry sat back in his seat and crossed his arms.

            “Doctor Simon,” Auferre said, “did Harry Potter act normally when you were assigned to him?”

            Marc shook his head. “No.”

            “Please describe to the court some of his tendencies and actions.”

            Marc cleared his throat and looked to the jury. “Harry Potter found out a lot of my background just by looking me in the eye. It makes sense now knowing that he’s telepathic. He has a short-fused temper, which isn’t unordinary for someone in Harry’s profile, and he enjoys intimidating people. I guess what would sum him up best was his love and need to have power. You see, when he was contained, Harry wasn’t able to use magic, not at first. The only way he could get control was to intimidate me. There were a few times when I was in there with him that I feared for my life. Harry was actually amused when I was frightened by him. Then, eventually he got his physical strength back and knocked me out thinking I was Leucosia.”

            “Hmm,” Auferre said as he paced. “You described Harry as dangerous in your report, didn’t you, Doctor?”

            “Yes. It almost seems that Harry is unaware of how strong he really is. Harry has more of an inborn magic, which means he can channel his power into virtually any avenue. At times he could look inside my mind, other times he could jump out of his bed and run to the door faster than anything I’ve seen. All of this power he could do while being somewhat suppressed by high security charms. I suppose what’s most dangerous about him is that he can’t ever be properly contained. His body adapted to anything we gave him so he could free himself.”

            “Doctor, does Mr. Potter know the difference between right and wrong?” Auferre asked.

            “Yes,” Marc replied.

            “Thank you for your testimony,” he said, and walked to his own seat.

            Jake remained stationary as he casually flipped through his file which sat on the table. He rubbed his chin in thought, then yawned. Finally he stood up.

            “Doctor Simon,” he started, “is it possible that you’re wrong and Leucosia has played Harry and positioned him just where she wants him?” he asked.

            Marc didn’t answer right away. “It is more likely that she’s preying on Harry’s worst and most paranoid fears, therefore making him actually fall into his own trap. I do not believe she is real. Harry said that Leucosia made him think he was striking her when he hit Hermione and me. What’s more, Harry claims that Leucosia can see into his mind, which isn’t possible. But I suppose,” he said doubtfully, “that she is real. Anything’s possible.”

            Jake flipped through his notes, trying to appear confident. “How did Harry react when you told him that he had hurt Hermione?”

            “He denied it at first, then he was sorry about it.”

            “How did he react when you told him that he had injured you?”

            “Again he denied it and was sorry about it later. He wasn’t sorry for intimidating me.”

            “That wasn’t my question,” Jake said. He stood in silence as he looked at his notes for another question, but came up with nothing. The judges asked him if he had another question, but Jake didn’t respond immediately.

            “Is there--” he began, almost hesitantly. “Is there true goodness in Harry’s heart?”

            “I believe,” Marc said slowly, “that he loves his family very much. I don’t doubt that he would do anything for them. He also cares for his friends, Ron and Hermione. It always seemed to me, however, that Harry was tainted, and I’m not sure by what. There is no doubt that Harry was once good, but things have changed. For me it’s very hard to say.”

            Jake looked down at his notes again, but didn’t ask another question. He returned to his seat as Marc walked out of the courtroom.

            “The prosecution rests,” Auferre said.

            Giles turned to Jake and asked if Jake had anything else he could present. But Jake shook his head then answered the court verbally. Giles nodded then told both attorneys to give their summations of the case before the jury would deliberate on a verdict. Though Jake went first, Harry couldn’t hear him. He stared absentmindedly at a seal on the opposite wall which read: May Justice Be Done. Harry heard Jake’s voice mull over something. It sounded as if he was using his voice inflection to make certain points. But then Jake’s voice became more distant and the only thing Harry could hear was his steady and rhythmic breathing. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

            Jake sat down once he’d finished and Harry assumed Auferre stood up to address the jury next. Inhale, exhale.

            Harry heard the Black Order mentioned.

            Inhale, exhale.

            He heard words like “telepathy,” and “anger.” He heard phrases like, “he lied to his best friends,” and “Harry Potter’s secret life has been revealed.”

            Inhale, exhale.

            Auferre spoke for decades, or so it seemed. He had much more to say than Jake did. But when he finally finished and sat himself down, Harry heard Giles tell the jury to go and take their time to come up with a verdict. Then Harry heard the jury members bustle out of the courtroom into their own private chamber where they would decide Harry’s fate.

            Inhale…

 

**

Harry and Jake were sent into their own chamber to wait for the jury to come back. Jake, though, had left for a while and hadn’t returned. He left Harry alone in the room with security wizards waiting outside. Harry had his elbows on the table and his clasped hands to his chin. His eyes were unfocused but stared at the same seal that was in the courtroom. May Justice Be Done.

            Jake returned sometime after four in the afternoon. The jury was still meeting and had been for close to an hour now. Jake sat down in a chair across from Harry with folded blue parchment slips.

            “I suggest,” he started plainly, “that you plea this out before the jury comes back.”

            Harry swallowed and let his eyes focus again on his attorney. “What?” he asked with a scratchy throat.

            “A plea bargain. If you admit to the crimes and help the Ministry collect the members of the Black Order, the Ministry will lessen your sentence.”

            Harry shut his eyes and leaned his forehead on his hands.

            “I think it’s the best way for you to go. If you’re found guilty, you’re looking at one-hundred and fifty years in Vincula. But if you take the deal and you cooperate with the Ministry, they’ll drop the sentence down to fifty years.”

            Harry shook his head and looked up. “But I didn’t do it,” he said feebly. “Jake I’m innocent of this. I didn’t do this. Please believe me, Jake.”

            Jake sighed. “I wish I could,” he said slowly. “But there’s a reason I chose to be a prosecutor.”

            “And there’s a reason I had to be an Auror,” Harry answered back. “I will not make a deal,” he started, his voice still shaking. “I will not admit to crimes I haven’t committed. They have zero proof that I murdered those people.”

            “They have everything they need to convince a jury. I know you see it, Harry. That’s why you didn’t tell me you were telepathic. It’s the crown jewel. It’s what made everything fall into place. It makes you look guilty of everything, Harry. You hurt yourself further when it was obvious to the jury that you didn’t tell me about it. Do you have any idea how bad this looks? Harry you keep digging yourself these holes. Please take the deal to get yourself out.”

            “What’s the difference between fifty and one-hundred and fifty years? I can’t have Audrey wait for me. Dana won’t remember me at all. My friends won’t speak to me. I will not admit to these charges because I’m innocent. I can‘t even make a deal because I don‘t have the information they want. And I‘m innocent. I’m innocent!” he yelled. Why didn’t they understand? Auferre, Verit, Blair… they were all the same.

            Jake nodded, gathered his papers, and left again. Harry pondered his new predicament. Dumbledore and Auferre had agreed that Harry was one of the most powerful wizards alive. There was hope, then. After all, Azkaban hadn’t had any escapes until Sirius Black, his own godfather and an innocent man, broke free to save Harry. Harry had reasons to break free. If it took twelve or twenty years to do it, by God he’d do it. Nothing was escape-proof anymore. Why, the jury could come back and remember everything Harry had done in the past, and give the “not guilty” verdict. Harry could go home to live with his family.

            But the realist in him kicked in. It was impossible to escape from Vincula.

            At half past six in the evening, Harry and Jake were told that the jury had made a decision. The both of them were escorted back into the courtroom. Harry couldn’t believe the trial had only taken two days. Two days. It had to be one of the shortest on record. And just this morning, Dana had hitched a ride on his leg while Harry was taking coffee to his beautiful wife.

            The jury filed into their chairs. Harry didn’t want to hear their thoughts. He had enough control not to. But a tiny part wanted to know. But there was no point in putting in the effort. Arthur, who had remained eerily silent for the duration of the trial, was asking the jury about their findings.

            “How do you find the defendant, Harry Potter, for the murder charges?”

            Harry looked up at the jury. The leader of them, answered.

            “We find the defendant not guilty,” she said.

            Harry’s heart jumped.

            “How do you find the defendant, Harry Potter, for the conspiracy to murder charge?” Arthur asked.

            Harry took in a breath as he watched the leader.

            “We find the defendant guilty.”

            Harry felt as if all the air were being sucked out of his lungs. The courtroom also took in a breath.

            “How do you find the defendant, Harry Potter, for the charges of leading and forming the Black Order?”

            The leader swallowed. Harry closed his eyes and exhaled the air that remained in his lungs.

            “We find the defendant,” she started, then looked at Harry, “guilty.”