Heir Of Voldemort

Set - the day after ch. 17

Notes: Yes, we´re coming into the final straight now. this is actually the second-last chapter to be written (the last chapter is already half-done) because I really don´t want to deal with the emotional stuff in this one. I think I´m liable to make myself blub like a baby...hopefully I won´t, but oy...emotional trauma...

Three more chapters after this one...and perhaps a prequel depending on how well this one goes down...maybe...I have ideas for it and it could turn out to be kind of... entertaining, but I´ll have to work on it some more...and babbling...so much fun...

__________________________

"What´s going on?"

"Xander and I have to...we...we have to go..."

Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer, didn´t seem satisfied with that answer, her hands spread on the counter as she watched Giles lock up the book cage and the office of the library.

She was sitting on the top of the book counter, between two columns of ancient tomes, as he moved around his precious library, her legs crossed at the knee, swinging one booted foot up and down impatiently as she studied him.

"Where?"

"I-I-I beg your pardon?"

"Where are you going?"

Giles looked at her in a way that suggested he was tired and frustrated and would happily smack her on the head. "Xander´s m-mother is in some trouble...he has asked me to-to-to accompany him...moral support."

"Mrs Harris in trouble? What´s up?"

Again, Giles paused and studied her, as if assessing whether she deserved to be told what was going on. It wasn´t a pleasant feeling, knowing that badness was ensuing and she could do nothing.

"I-I-I-I´m afraid it´s all up to X-Xander, if he wishes to-to-to tell you," he replied, looking to the library doors which had just swung open. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, the younger watcher stood there. "Ah, Wesley."

"Mr Giles, I have just been informed that you are temporarily leaving Sunnydale."

Buffy almost snickered at the exasperated look on Giles´ face. If he could have gotten away with beating the younger Watcher up, she could see that he would have done it right at that moment.

"Y-y-yes, I have some personal m-matters to take care of," he replied. "I trust you will be able to-to-to keep moderate control in my absence."

Wesley seemed to swell up proudly. "Of course I would..."

"Yo, B!" Both men winced at the voice of the second Slayer. "Hey G, Wes! Just found us a nest. Thought Slay-gal one might be up for some hot girl-on-girl action for the take-down."

Smiling at the matching expressions on the two watchers faces, Buffy swung down off the counter and landed on her feet. "I´m in," she said, pausing to touch Giles on the arm. "You help Xander´s mom, Giles."

"I intend to," he returned the smile, albeit weakly.

***

"Right...passport...oh crap! Where´s the real one...?"

Ethan had managed to pile his most essential belongings into a single rucksack, his room at the motel which served as a home looking like little more than a bombsite, clothes and magical herbs scattered everywhere.

Upending his bed, he yanked the sheets and blankets off, sighing with relief when he saw his real passport slide out the end of the duvet. Bending to pick it up, he stopped short when a pair of impeccable shoes and trousers came directly in his line of sight.

"Oh...crap..."

"Now, is that any way to treat one of your loyal clientele, Rayne?" the striking Afro-American vampire chided, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "You knew I would be comin´ lookin´ for you sooner or later..."

"Look, mate," Straightening up and taking a careful step back, Ethan raised his hands. "This really isn´t the best of times for you to come waltzing into my motel and demanding your...er...wait a mo...why are you here anyway?"

"Got a little job for you, Mr. Rayne," the vampire smiled, bushing a hand down the lapel of his dark, pinstriped suit.

The wizard was more than a little relieved that Mr Trick, the vampire in question, tended to keep his human features on display, because he really was a frightening thing to look at when his demon side was visible.

"A...job? What kind of job?"

"You´d have to ask the Mayor about that," Trick smiled and it wasn´t in a pleasant way. "I´m just the delivery boy, y´see. For some reason," he remarked. "The Mayor had this sneakin´ feelin´ that you would avoid him...me and the boys were sent to make sure you did no such thing..."

"Er...right..."

Trick bent and picked up the passport from the floor. "And, Mr Rayne, just where might you be goin´ in such a hurry?"

"Family business."

Trick raised his brows, nodding as he flicked through the passport. "And what," he asked casually, his eyes darting to Ethan´s face. "Might this family business be? A sick ol´ grandmamma? Mommy needin´ help pickin´ apples?"

"Actually," The wizard couldn´t help grinning. The words truth stranger than fiction certainly applied in this case. "The mother of my God-son is on trial for being the concubine of the Dark Lord of the wizarding world, so I´m just off to save the day and bring her back."

Trick´s fingers that were flipping through the passport froze. He lowered his the passport, staring at Ethan. "You ain´t tellin´ me that we´ve had the mate of the Snakeman livin´ right here in good ol´ Sunny-D and the Mayor didn´t know?"

Ethan hoped he didn´t look as stunned as he felt.

The demon world knew about Voldemort?

Okay, yes there had been that incident with Drusilla and Angelus, but they had assumed that was a one-off, because the vampiress was a seer, but for the whole demon populace...

Of course, he felt like kicking himself, there was Voldemort´s pure connection to the dark side that meant that all dark forces would inevitably feel the touch of his power, even if he didn´t intend it to happen.

Plus, he drew his power from them...

Only, they hadn´t realised Cassandra was in their midst.

"Uh...yes?"

"You gotta be kiddin´, man!"

Ethan spread his hands. "I-I knew her from Hogwarts...she´s been hiding out here..."

"Hogwarts, huh?" His passport was tossed across the room to him, the vampire face shifting into a more genuine smile. "Man, have I heard about that place. What house were you in?"

"Um...Hufflepuff."

"Graduated?"

Ethan shook his head. "Expelled for experimentation with the dark arts."

"Figures," Trick chuckled. He sauntered back across the room towards the door, which was flanked by two much larger, growling vampires that Ethan hadn´t noticed before. "Well, Mr Rayne, given what you´re doin´ for now, I´ll just have to tell the Mayor that you are...ah...otherwise occupied at present."

"You will?"

"Hey, man, no disrespect to the Mayor, but the Snakeman is way up in the chart of power," the vampire said, raising his hands. "If you´re gonna be the one to save his mate... well, good luck to ya buddy. Hope ya succeed."

"Uh...right...thanks."

"No problem, buddy," Trick pulled the door closed, leaving Ethan staring mutely at the panel of wood.

A few minutes later, he shook himself. "Okay," he mumbled. "What the Hell just happened here?"

***

"All rise."

Everyone in the court shuffled to their feet, although it was quite a challenge given how many people had crammed into the magically enlarged courtroom, many wanting a glimpse of the now-notorious Mother of the Heir.

Somehow, as always was the case in such an incident, the story had been leaked and everyone in the wizarding world knew about the fiendish witch, who had borne the only living Heir of Voldemort.

Rumours abounded about what had happened to the Heir, many believing him - that detail had been leaked out as well, although the source remained safely anonymous for the time being - to be either dead or vanquished.

Row upon row of witches and wizards watched as Judge Prescott, one of the high council Judges, took his place at one of the higher benches closest to the stage, which lined the side wall of the courtroom and looked directly down on the chair.

The jury of sixteen neutrally chosen - although there was some contestation about that, due to the fact that no one could truly be neutral in regard to Voldemort - were seated in the bench on the opposite wall. Every other bench alongside it and to the front of the court was packed with people.

Just beneath them, in a lower tier of bench, two men sat, pointedly ignoring one another: One was tall, dark and forbidding, with glittering black eyes, the other slim, blonde and grey-eyed.

They had been called in as witnesses, lest the Mother of the Heir was foolish enough to remain silent for the duration of her trial.

The dark-haired, dark-eyed, sallow-skinned man, the older of the two, was staring down at the centre platform of the court, a muscle in his cheek visibly twitching, his hands clenched on the arms of the seat he occupied.

His neighbour - separated from him by a magical partition to prevent fighting amongst the witnesses - looked strangely smug and a little triumphant, despite his pallor, one side of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

He was the one who had brought the news of the Heir to the Ministry of Magic.

As soon the Judge was in place and everyone had resumed their seats, all eyes went to the platform at the front of the court, where a chair - it´s arms hung with chains - stood. Not one person in the court could fail to see it.

The air in the room was already stagnant and stale from so many people breathing it, the windowless, underground courtroom beneath the Ministry dark and forbidding, but they knew that not one of them would leave before the trial was over.

It was simply too interesting...and too much of a threat for them to leave.

They wanted to know that they were safe, that there were no more Dark Lords waiting to step out of the wings and take Voldemort´s place, after all they had fought for was finally coming together again.

"Bring her in," the Judge said loudly. A couple of people noticed that his voice shook a little.

Behind the chair, a door opened, the intake of breath audible.

Two Aurors - Dementors were no longer permitted in the courtroom until after the trials, due to serious reactions from the spectators - lead a slight figure around the chair, making her sit as they chained her to the monstrous chair.

A few looks were exchanged.

Surely there had to be some kind of mistake.

One of the two witnesses, the younger of the two, leaned forward in his seat, staring in shock at the woman, whom he was to blame for capture of. Lines marred his brow, his lips parting silently.

It couldn´t be right...

The witch now manacled into the chair at the front of the court was small, thin and frail-looking, blonde hair drawn back from a white face and bound with magic, dark frightened eyes looking around at them.

"Stone, has the defendant been dosed with Veritaserum?"

One of the two Aurors nodded. "Yes, sir," he replied. "The maximum strength of potion was ingested by the defendant fifteen minutes ago. She will be able to give nothing but direct answers to your questions."

"Stone, you may stand down."

The Head Auror and his companions both moved back to stand behind the chair, flanking the door.

"Witch," Judge Prescott began. "What is your name and your date of birth?"

Brown eyes looked up at him. "Cassandra Morgana Bones," she replied, her voice rasping. "Twenty-fourth of November, 1960."

Behind the chair, Stone nodded in agreement.

"Did you, Cassandra Bones, consort with the Dark Lord?"

"Yes," Her dark brown eyes screamed desperately that she had more to say, but the potion had her under it´s control. Her hands gripped the arms of the chair, the cuffs biting into her thin wrists.

Everyone in the courtroom hissed and muttered softly.

She had admitted it.

Prescott rapped his gavel, a stiff silence falling as he posed his next question. "Did you go to his bed willingly?"

Shaking her head wildly, Cassandra´s eyes stared up at him. "Y-yes," her lips said.

Again, murmurs rippled around the court, disgust crossing the faces of the observers.

Tears were gathering in the witch´s eyes, spilling uncontrollably down her white face. She looked like she wanted to cry out, say something further, but they had been strict with the variety of veritaserum they had dosed her with.

"Were you conceived of a child while performing as a consort for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

The witch´s mouth opened and closed, as she silently cried out words that none of them could hear, anguish on her face. Unable to say anything but the direct truth, she let her head fall.

"Yes."

There was uproar.

Several witches cried out and at least one fainted. A few voices cursed, while a couple of people tried to lunge up onto the stage to attack the chained witch, only to be forced back by the two Aurors.

Prescott had to batter his gavel furiously, before any order was restored.

"SILENCE!"

His words carried enough anger and power to convince them that sitting was probably the safest thing to do at that moment.

"Bones," his voice was low, steady, as he turned back to Bones. "Was the child that you carried the child of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"Y-yes."

"How can you be sure?"

Her face crumpled in shame. "He was the only one that I had intercourse with."

The Judge leaned back against the high back of his seat, looking a little pale. Of course, the Dark Lord mentioned in the context of `intercourse´ was enough to make anyone feel a little ill.

A ripple of whispers spread through the court, subsiding when Prescott rapped the gavel twice, sitting upright.

"Does the child live?"

Frightened eyes stared at him, the witch´s lower lip trembling. Tears were gathering in the dark hollows beneath her eyes, until they brimmed over and rolled down her gaunt cheeks.

"Bones, I asked you a question," he said sternly,. He leaned forward on the edge of the bench, glaring down at her. "Does the child, the Heir of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named live?"

Cassandra Bones shrank back in the enormous chair, shaking her head at the judge, her pale lips pressed so tightly together that they were little more than a thin line, her eyes huge.

"Answer the judge," Stone growled from behind her.

Bones shot a look over her shoulder at him, then shook her head again, cringing back against the chair as if expecting to be struck.

The Judge looked across to the witness stand. "Draco Malfoy, stand if present."

"Present," the blond youth rose, a proud look on his pointed face, which was not unlike his father´s.

"You have ingested veritaserum?"

The boy nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Your full name and date of birth, boy."

His chin up, the youth answered. "Draco Lucius Malfoy. June fourteenth, 1980."

Prescott, checking the files in front of him nodded, then looked back across at the younger of the witnesses. "What do you know about the Heir of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" he asked. "Can you tell the court how you came by this knowledge?"

"I know that she," he jerked his chin in the direction of the witch chained at the fore of the court. "Is his mother. I learned of their existence when Karkaroff was brought before You-Know-Who and he tried to barter information of the Heir for his life." His lip curled. "The Dark Lord began an extensive search for his... whore, but she came to him instead and begged for permission to continue to raise the child until he was strong enough to join his father."

"Did the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named agree?"

Malfoy nodded. "He wished to regain his empire before the child returned to him."

"Do you know what the Heir looks like?"

"No, sir."

Prescott scratched at his chin thoughtfully, then asked Malfoy, "Do you know if the Heir still lives?"

The boy shook his head. "I don´t know any more than I have already told you about the Heir, sir."

The Judge motioned for him to sit, which the youth did, but he looked less confident than he had before the witch had been brought into the courtroom. "Severus Snape, stand if present."

In the witness bench, the dark man rose, his expression neutral but for the twitching muscle in his cheek. "Present."

"You have been called as a witness to this trial," Prescott said. "Have you ingested a dosage of Veritaserum?"

"I have."

"How do you know of the Heir?"

Black eyes stared straight ahead. "I was a spy for the Ministry in the ranks of the Death Eaters," he replied, his voice a monotone. "I witnessed the Dark Lord selecting Bones to be the mother and saw her when she was with child."

"Have you ever seen the Heir?"

"I have seen a photograph, but I have not seen the Heir in person," he replied, as he lowered his eyes to the chained witch. She was looking back at him, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Prescott nodded. "Do you know if the Heir lives?"

"I do not know if he lives," Snape´s eyes came back to the judge. "After He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was defeated, there had been no correspondence from the Mother, so I assume that he died during or after the battle."

On the chair at the front of the court, Bones lowered her head.

"Bones," Her face rose, pale. "Does Snape speak the truth?"

"Yes," she whispered, looking down at the floor.

The questioning continued, testing every chink in Snape´s armour and testing the mother of the air, in case she let something slip, but nothing more of use was found and Prescott turned the judgement over to the Jury.

It was unanimous.

Even before they voted, everyone in the room knew it would be unanimous.

The witch had admitted consorting with the Dark Lord, which - alone - was a crime worthy of Azkaban.

However, on top of it, she had also admitted to concealing herself from the Ministry, using one of the unforgivable curses on her muggle husband and bearing an Heir as she was requested by the Dark Lord.

"How do you find the defendant on the charges of consorting with the Dark Lord, conspiring to pervert the course of justice, use of the unforgivable curses on muggles and bearing an Heir to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Judge Prescott directed his question at the Jury forewoman. "Guilty or not guilty?"

"Guilty of all charges."

"Is this the unanimous vote of the jury? Raise your hands if you are in agreement with this judgement."

Every hand of every member of the jury rose instantly and the spectators started to applaud and cheer, some throwing insults at the witch who was slumped in the chair at the fore of the court.

No one seemed to notice that Snape - in the witness box - had closed his eyes, as if in severe pain. Neither did they notice the red-haired witch at the back of the court, who had her face buried in her hands.

Rapping his gavel, Prescott managed to quiet the crowd. "Cassandra Bones," he said gravely. "Rise." The Aurors behind her moved in and unchained her arms, but held her by the shoulders, as she rose. "You have heard the judgement and you are hereby sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban, where you shall remain until you die."

The witch nodded, looking up at him.

It was unnerving.

She appeared so utterly calm, albeit tragically sad.

Prescott couldn´t help feeling that they had missed something.

The catcalls and hisses had started again from the spectators, many of the people in the court and screaming abuse at her. Slowly, the witch turned her face back to them and an eerie silence fell.

Apparently, they were as bewildered by her as the Judge was.

"Do you have anything you want to say to the court?"

Prescott didn´t know why he said it, but it was traditional for a Death Eater to hurl abuse at the crowds and he had to admit a trial wasn´t quite right if the accused didn´t have a chance to get their say.

"Yes."

He raised a brow. "And that is?"

The witch didn´t even look at him, her eyes scanned over all of the faces of the crowd in front of her, her face still streaked with tears. Turning her head, she looked up at the witness box.

"I forgive you."

It was barely a whispered breath, but in the expectant hush of the court, every ear in the room heard it.

The boy, Malfoy, went white, staring down at her. He looked like he was either going to be violently sick or faint, or perhaps both.

She gave him a strange, small smile, then bowed her head and allowed the two Aurors to lead her out through the door at the back of the platform, leaving the courtroom in a stunned and confused silence.

***

"Rayne!"

Ethan Rayne had barely set foot inside the door of the Leaky Cauldron when a dark figure swept out of the shadows, grabbed him by the arm and hauled him into the shadows again.

In the deep cranny beside the fireplace, shielded from the light of the flames, Ethan was pressed between the dark brick of the wall and the tall, dark man who he could recognise by silhouette alone.

"Sev," he murmured. "You got my owl?"

"When did you land?"

"What happened at the trial?" Ethan´s words overrode the former Potions Master´s.

Snape´s eyes looked away. "She...she was found guilty."

Ethan nodded, a hand coming to his forehead, exhausted. He had come in first to get the news, while Giles tried to wake the jet-lagged Alexander and unload the cab they had arrived in. "Let me guess," he said bleakly. "Azkaban?"

"Azkaban. They took her there first thing this morning."

"Shit..."

Snape´s hand squeezed his shoulder. "What do you have planned, Rayne?" he asked, his voice hushed.

"You trust me?"

"Not really."

"Didn´t think so," Ethan smiled thinly. "Here´s the thing. I´ve been in touch with Flitwick. He´s agreed to stand with me to make a plea for the release of Cass. We... uh...kind of put you down as one of the witnesses."

Snape sighed. "And you wonder why I don´t trust you," he muttered. "But you have Flitwick´s support?" Ethan nodded. "What does he know?"

"I filled him in on everything except my secret weapon and he`s willing to be our official sponsor and back-up when we face the Ministry."

"What secret weapon?"

Ethan´s tired smile was a genuine one. "If you agree to join our little committee for the plea, tomorrow night, you´ll get to meet him," he said, rubbing his eyes. "That is, if Rupert gets the kid to wake up."

"The kid...? Good God, Ethan! Surely you haven´t brought..."

"Yeah, Billy the Kid," the older wizard interrupted, seeing the curious looks they were getting from a nearby table. "That´s one of the reasons we have to know if you´ll stand. You and he are our best bets for getting her out."

Snape´s lips lifted in a tired smile. "You know you don´t even have to ask. I would do it for Ginny´s sake, if not Bones´," He pushed tangled strands of his hair back from his brow. "Could she...?"

"Ginny Weasley?" Ethan shrugged. "I don´t see why not. I think it would do her some good to meet him."

There was a moments silence.

"Sev," Ethan´s voice shook a little. "Do...do you know how they found her? Or even how they found out about her existing? I mean, none of the Death Eaters would break a blood vow..."

"Malfoy´s boy."

Rayne´s lips tightened in a forced smile. "You´ll have to introduce us," he remarked, sounding almost casual. "I´d love the opportunity to shake his hand...before I wring the little shit´s neck."

Snape almost smiled back. "It would be my pleasure."