King's Court

King's Court

a marcus/percy tragedy

> ~ <

. . . and all the king's horses . . .

In the year of 2002, Cornelius Fudge retired as Minister of Magic after thirty years of outstanding work and Charlie "Chuckles" Dented was instated into the esteemed position. Chuckles was a wasteful man who had spent years in various departments of the Ministry slyly pocketing black inkwells and eagle feathers. He'd passed decades thinking that no one could see over his shiny, balding head and notice that his large mahogany desk was always bare. Chuckles wore last year's robes with next year's jewelry; his eyes were the colour of a forgotten lake--blue at a distance, but murky green when approached.

When Chuckles entered the underground courtroom of the Ministry, he looked terribly out of place. The courtroom was a magnificent chamber with marble floors and polished oak furniture. Ten rows of benches flanked the corridor leading to the grand judge's stand, and flanking that was the juror's box and the witness stand. Much like any Muggle courtroom, the Ministry kept their proceedings cold and detached. The people they condemned to death on this ground were never human and shouldn't be treated as such.

Chuckles took his seat at the front, banged his gavel twice although the room fell into a silence when he entered, and smiled broadly at his full courtroom. His smile soon faded as his eyes grazed those of Marcus Flint and Percy Weasley.

"Would the defendant please rise," Chuckles said with a bounce in his tone as he rapped his fingers impatiently upon the wood of his stand.

Marcus Flint shakily rose to his feet, his wrists and ankles shackled together with iron manacles. His black hair, normally unruly and short, was matted greasily to his face; he refused to make eye contact with anyone in the room.

.. :: this can't be justice :: ..

"Marcus Ares Flint, do you understand the circumstance of your arrest?" asked Chuckles. He raised his nose at Marcus's appearance and smell.

"Yes, your honour," Marcus croaked.

Chuckles nodded. "You may be seated, Mr Flint." He folded his hands before him and directed his attention towards a young, blond Ministry official who was playing with a long piece of string between his hands. "Mr Jayden Briggs, you may begin when you are ready."

From the table parallel to the one at which Marcus and Percy sat, Jayden quickly untangled the cat's cradle and shoved the string back into his pockets. He shuffled his two papers, stood, shuffled the papers some more, and sauntered towards the head of the courtroom. Facing Chuckles, Jayden removed his square-framed glasses and cleaned them on his robes.

"I would like to call Percival Alexander Weasley to the stand," Jayden eventually started.

Shock never crossed Percy's freckled face--he had expected this and prepared all night over a cup of cold coffee. Slowly, the redhead stood and took to the stand in a slouched stride, his face blanched beyond the purest ivory. He swallowed the lump driving its way up his throat and solemnly awaited the inevitable.

.. :: they never said it was :: ..

"Mr Weasley, would you please state your age and occupation for the record?"

Percy cleared his throat, the sound echoed off the walls, dying as it rolled through the marble floor of the chamber. "Twenty-five; Ministry department of Magical Games and Sports."

Jayden began pacing the horizontal lengths of the courtroom, making several circuits before asking his next question. "And for how many of those twenty-five years have you known the defendant?"

Percy mentally did his third elementary year math. "Fourteen years."

Jayden abruptly stopped pacing and began spinning a pen with the fingers of his left hand. "Am I to understand, Mr Percy, that you have been friends with Flint for fourteen years?"

"N-no sir. We were never friends in Hogwarts," corrected a blushing Percy.

"But you knew of him, nonetheless?" Jayden's voice came accusingly.

Percy nodded slowly, ran his tongue over his lips, and gave Marcus a sideways glance that seemed to be begging for an apology.

"Please verbalise your response, Mr Weasley," Jayden snapped. His faded aquamarine eyes narrowed in distaste.

Percy burned red in the cheeks, and he started to examine an invisible loose thread on the hem of his washed-out black robes. "Yes," he repeated with a nod, his voice seemingly small against that of Jayden's.

Jayden slid the pen into the pocket with the string and resumed with the irritating pacing. Several inaudible mumbles passed his lips before he strung a coherent sentence together. "Would you care to describe Flint's behavioural tendencies as you knew him in Hogwarts?"

.. :: I won't be able to save you :: ..

"That's an unfair assessment. I think of him differently now," Percy informed evenly, and his mouth began a thin frown as he stared helplessly past Jayden ainto Marcus's black eyes.

"Please answer the question, Mr Weasley. You will have a chance to inform the court of the"--a sadistic smirk--"new Marcus Flint soon enough. Although, I am uncertain how an inhuman beast like that could change."

Percy bit his tongue but didn't release it until he tasted blood in his mouth. He squeezed his azure eyes shut and clenched his fists at his side, digging his nails deep into his palms until that pain was all he felt. "He was . . . violent at times," he explained through clenched teeth. When he opened his mouth to continue, Jayden interrupted him.

"How violent?"

Percy let his eyes open and drift closed again as a headache pounded at his temples. "I remember times when Oliver Wood returned to our dorm with a bloody nose or a broken arm or a busted and bruised jaw. Back then, Marcus didn't believe in using words to solve problems or to prove a point."

Jayden nodded again, clasped his hands behind his back, and began pacing vertical lengths of the juror's box. "Would the jury please note that Mr Weasley described Flint as being the animal he is. And that was all Mr Weasley focussed on."

.. :: I never asked you to :: ..

Percy's head shot up as he quickly realised his mistake. But all he spoke was the truth. "No! That wasn't what I meant! Marcus has changed. You can't take into account what he was like seven years ago! It's barbaric," he shouted with a determined voice as extreme anxiety began to show in his face.

Jayden rotated towards Percy, his face a mask of stone. "Does he still harbour his violent tendencies? Or has Mr Flint been frolicking in the daisies, stopping to smell the roses?" And Jayden inwardly chuckled at his own humour.

That smacked Percy squarely in the face. "He's trying to change!" Percy pressed desperately, crazed eyes scanning the courtroom. "It's hard, but he's getting better. You don't even know him! You can't judge him. You have no right." Percy's voice quavered with each word, his breathing came in shallow and ragged intervals.

Jayden raised his lip in a sneer. "I don't need to know him personally. I know his kind." He brusquely turned to face the courtroom, his arms crossed over his chest. He stared at Marcus over the rim of his glasses and exhaled sharply. "Mr Weasley, tell the court the nature of your relationship with Flint."

"We're lovers."

"For how many years?" He span towards Percy.

"Five."

"And how did this unlikely partnership occur?"

Percy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't see how that is relevant. Unless, of course you're coming down on homosexuality as well," Percy said sarcastically with a waning smirk. "Maybe you should step into the twenty-first century, Mr Briggs."

.. :: don't they realise how wrong this is? :: ..

Jayden returned that smirk in silence. He remained silent for many passing moments before bobbing his head slowly and closing his interrogation. "No further questions, your honour."

Chuckles made a sound deep in his throat that resembled a grunt. "You may be seated now, Mr Weasley," he stated as he cast a lazy eye towards Percy in bane.

With more effort than it should have taken, Percy pushed himself to his feet. He stoically walked back to the front table he shared with his lover and flatmate, dropping heavily down in his seat with a defeated sigh.

"I would like to call the defendant to the stand," Jayden said.

Marcus gave Percy a crestfallen look before he stood. He wobbled uneasily towards the witness stand, his hands bound behind his back with the same iron manacles that were fastened around his ankles. His dirty grey robes, a standard issue of the prison, fell a few inches short of the floor.

.. :: no. and that's what makes us better :: ..

"Please state your age and occupation for the record," Jayden started as though this was four o'clock tea. He waved his hand towards the jury, thinking that Marcus needed help in that area.

"Twenty-six; Captain of the Falmouth Falcons," Marcus grunted.

Jayden leaned over the stand, bringing his face closer to Marcus's. "And do you agree with Mr Weasley's judgment?" he asked politely. He even went as far as offering Marcus a polite, but nevertheless condescending, smile. "And let me remind you that you are under oath."

If Marcus could have moved his hands, he'd wipe Jayden's spit from his face. He glared daggers at both Percy and Jayden, but faltered when he realised that all Percy spoke was the truth. He shouldn't hate Percy, he should hate himself. "Yes," he replied, defeated.

As he had many times already, Jayden nodded. He pushed himself away from the witness stand with an oath cast directly at Marcus. "I'll keep this short and sweet, Mr Flint. We have the trial of Lupin to attend to next. Would you describe your lineage to the court." A statement, not a question.

Marcus swallowed and ran his answer through his mind carefully before answering. If he answered truthfully, as was expected of him, he'd be doomed to imprisonment and execution. If he lied, he'd still be screwed over--the Ministry had records of his heritage, as every other wizard's, in the archives in the basement. "Witch mother, although I never knew her; half-breed father; grandfather Olaf, a full blooded troll. My grandmamma was a witch," Marcus offered briefly, not divulging unnecessary information. His troll blood was never something he took tremendous pride in.

Jayden smirked in satisfaction. "No further questions."

.. :: I'll miss you :: ..

.. :: I love you :: ..

On the first hour of the third day of the seventh month, Marcus Ares Flint, Remus Joshua Lupin, and countless other half-breeds were executed in the name of humanity.

Not for being who they were.

But for being what they were.

. . . and all the king's men . . .