Disappear

The Trial

Dumbledore stared at the Deatheater lying asleep on the narrow bed in a maximum-security cell. Any edges in the room had been smoothed into a gentle curve; the walls all had extra strength cushioning charms placed on them. These measures were partly to prevent a prisoner using anything as a weapon but mainly it was to prevent any unpleasant … accidents the prisoners might inflict on themselves.

As Dumbledore watched, Harry Potter twitched in his sleep. It was strange … from looking at him, you would think he was just an ordinary boy … not a cold-hearted killer…

"Oh Harry," sighed Dumbledore. "Where did I go wrong? Why couldn't Hogwarts protect you?"

Harry started to mutter now, turning in the bed, and Dumbledore leaned forward to hear what the Deatheater was saying.

"Mum, mum, he's going to kill me, he's going to take my blood," Harry murmured. "Don't let him kill Cedric…"

Harry's foot kicked reflexively and he let out a sob. "He's killed Cedric, he's going to kill me next. Dad, come and save me, mum, help me…"

Dumbledore looked around and leaned forward but Harry was silent, still curling and uncurling in anxiety on the small bed. I have to remember this, Dumbledore thought. And present it as evidence in his trial. Perhaps I can persuade them to give him a lifetime sentence rather than the Kiss.

He was puzzling over what Harry had said earlier…

"Why didn't you believe me Dumbledore?"

The simple statement revealed innocence Dumbledore hadn't believed Harry Potter still possessed. Why had he thought Dumbledore had lied to him?

Maybe the papers really are true, Dumbledore mused. Maybe the simplest explanation was the truest … the Healer that had initially questioned Harry had said there was a likely chance of brain damage … something must have happened in the year Harry Potter disappeared … something to break his sanity.

Another moan from Harry broke Dumbledore out of his thoughts.

"He's not dead," Harry whispered in pain. "Sirius, don't be dead. Stay away … stay away from the Veil … she'll push you through … oh god, it was that bitch. I hate her, I'll kill her, she killed Sirius…"

The Deatheater let out a choked sob and buried his face deeper into the bed. He lay still. Dumbledore waited, to see if Harry would say anything else but after a few minutes he stood up and strode quickly out of the cellblock, to show a few people this memory.

......

James stood silently in the penseive as he watched the scene come to the close. Finally he felt his stomach flip as if he had just done a backwards somersault and the next second he was standing in the courtroom shortly to hold Harry Potter's trial.

He glanced at his friends. Sirius was looking very disturbed and Lily looked like she was trying not to cry. Remus met James' eyes; he had a thoughtful look in his eyes that meant he was planning something. James couldn't tell Peter's reaction, he was staring intently at the ground.

"What does it mean?" said James finally to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore sighed and rested his fingers together, thinking deeply. "The Veil Harry is talking about is a project in the Department of Mysteries. I have no idea how he managed to find out about it but many Unspeakables believe it is a gateway to death. Being pushed through it would almost certainly result in death."

"Well why was Harry talking about it then?" Sirius interrupted. "I certainly haven't been pushed through any veil."

"I'm not quite sure Sirius. But I have a theory," said Dumbledore calmly. "It was almost certainly Voldemort that Harry was so scared of in his dream. But what troubles me more is when Harry said 'he's going to take my blood'. Any spell containing a wizard's blood is very powerful and almost always dark. This spell must have been used either to strengthen Voldemort or harm Harry as punishment for the fire."

James stared at Dumbledore sceptically. The rest of the group was wearing the same expression. "Don't take this personally Albus, but it all sounds a bit far-fetched."

"Don't you see?" Dumbledore said, looking around at the group. "The reason Harry was missing for so long after the fire must have been because of this spell Voldemort did. Harry must have escaped only a few days ago. Unfortunately from his recent behaviour I believe his mind may not have survived the spell intact."

"Are you saying that my son's insane?" Lily spoke up, his voice thick with tears.

Dumbledore looked at her sadly. "There aren't many other explanations, Lily. The way he's been acting since Sirius found him has been … bizarre, to say the least." He sighed again. "But it's just a theory. There are many other explanations for Harry's yearlong disappearance and his behaviour. This is just the one I believe is the most likely."

Remus spoke up finally. "Would it help if me and Peter went to speak with him? He was pretty upset when you first brought him in, Sirius. Maybe all he needs is someone to talk to."

"I think you're right, Remus," James said. "Harry didn't react very well when me and Lily went to see him, and I think that we shouldn't let him see Sirius either, after seeing this memory. Maybe he'll be better talking to you and Peter."

......

At the first sound of footsteps Harry sat up, vaguely interested. He was half-hoping it would be a friend, someone who would explain this mess, but in the last few days his list of friends had grown very short. Ron, the twins, the rest of the Weasleys, Dumbledore, Emmeline and every Auror in Britain seemed to believe he was a Deatheater.

However, when he saw who came around the corner, he was not disappointed.

"Professor Lupin!" he cried out, a huge grin on his face.

But the next person who came into view made all the blood from Harry's face drain away and anything he might have said went completely from his mind.

Remus glanced at him, looking unsure. "Harry? Are you-"

Harry cried out, an inhuman strangling noise, and launched himself towards Peter. A spell immediately threw him back into the wall. Harry lay there, stunned for a while, before carefully sitting up.

He walked slowly up to the bars and touched it. A small electric shock made him jump but determination crossed his features and he thrust his hand through the bars.

Remus jumped as Harry's fingers made it just past the spell before Harry launched back and hit the wall.

Circles swirled in front of Harry's eyes but he could just see Professor Lupin standing there next to Wormtail. He was shaking with rage, livid that he couldn't get past the bars and that Remus wasn't doing anything.

"What are you waiting for, Professor?" he managed to say between the shaking. "Kill the bloody, bastard traitor."

Remus' attention sharpened, obviously surprised. "Are you talking about Peter here?"

"YES I'M BLOODY TALKING ABOUT HIM!" Harry screamed.

Remus glanced at Peter. "Maybe you'd better go Peter. Harry doesn't seem to react to you well either."

"Are you sure?" Peter asked, and Harry was shocked by his voice. He sounded almost concerned, like he actually cared about Harry.

Remus nodded swiftly and Peter muttered, "See you then," before darting off.

Harry glared at Remus. "Why didn't you do anything? You just let him get away, and now I can't get him back, I can't get him back for everything that traitor has done."

Harry spat on the ground viciously, something he had never done before.

"Peter?" said Remus. "But Peter hasn't done anything. He's not a traitor … surely you know that."

"He is a traitor," Harry insisted, his voice shaking in anger. He seemed to cry or get angry at the slightest thing now.

He sank onto his bed, putting his head in his shaking hands. Just seeing Wormtail was enough to bring back unwelcome thoughts. If Sirius and Lupin had killed Pettigrew in the Shrieking Shack … then Voldemort wouldn't have come back to life, and then … Sirius would still be alive.

"Harry," said Remus hesitantly. "I came here to talk to you. I wanted to find to find out some things."

Harry looked up. "Why?" he asked. "I mean, no-one else wants to talk to me."

Remus ignored this and continued on. "I need to know about a blood ceremony. Has anyone taken your blood?"

"A blood ceremony?" Harry repeated. "Er-yeah, they have … but - why are you bringing this up now? You already know all about it."

Remus leaned forward eagerly. "This is very important, Harry. It could help."

Harry stared at Remus suspiciously. "You mean, help me get out of these bars?"

"Yes…" Remus lied awkwardly. "Sort-of…"

"But there's-there's no need," Harry stated, in a confused tone. "I'm not a Deatheater, I haven't done anything." He felt slightly guilty as he lied, remembering the Cruciatus curse. It was a lifetime in Azkaban if anyone found out.

Remus sighed as he tried to explain. "Harry … just because you don't remember being a Deatheater doesn't mean you aren't a Deatheater."

Harry stared back for a second before abruptly flinging himself onto the bed and burying his head in the pillow.

"Go away," he said, his voice slightly muffled. "I don't want to talk to you anymore. I don't understand anything."

Remus stayed standing, unwilling to leave the conversation where it was. He stared at the boy curled up in the bed. It's strange, but once I'd almost considered Harry to be my son, he thought.

"Why did you change?" he said, voicing his thoughts aloud.

Harry looked up from the pillow, obviously surprised. "I didn't."

"Yes you did," Remus continued, oblivious to the effect his words were having. "Sirius is really disappointed in you … I know he might not say it, but he is."

Harry went very still and said, "Don't say that that."

"But it's true … your parents are as well-"

"DON'T SAY THAT!"

"What-?" Remus started in shock.

"You can't say that!" Harry yelled, his face scrunched up in anger. "You've got no right!"

Remus started to say something but stopped. "I'll just go," he said eventually. "I'm sorry. It seems all I can do is upset you."

......

Harry was lying on his back in a stupor when the screaming first started. He sat up abruptly and edged as close to the bars as he dared.

"Hello?" he said loudly. "What's going on?"

The woman was still screaming faintly in the distance.

"Hey!" Harry yelled again. "Who's th-"

His words were cut off by the feeling of sudden cold emanating from the corridor. The lights began to flicker. Harry backed up against the cell wall and felt a shiver of foreboding run through him.

He closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them again he saw the two Aurors that had captured him outside Ottery St. Catchpole. He stared up at them, shivering uncontrollably.

"W-where's the D-dementors?" he asked, his voice shaking. "What are you - you can't-"

The female Auror just smiled. "Come on Potter. Up. We're here to escort you to your trial."

The bars swung to one side and a hooded black figure emerged. Harry's legs scraped uselessly against the floor as he tried to press himself further into the wall. The death rattle of the Dementor had already started but other noises were starting to fill Harry's head.

'Bow to death, Harry…'

'SIRIUS! SIRIUS! … He hasn't gone! … HE - IS - NOT - DEAD! SIRIUS!'

'…neither shall live while the other survives…'

"No-no," he moaned. "Expecto Patronum, expecto patronum-"

A white wisp of something that looked like smoke emerged from his fingertips but it flickered from life as the Dementor's cloak passed through it. A second later a cold hand gripped his arm and Harry's eyes slid back.

......

"Mr Potter! Mr Potter!"

"Huh-?"

Harry opened his eyes and took in his surrounding with dazed confusion. His cheeks were wet and he realised with a sudden shock of embarrassment that he had been crying. He tried to quickly wipe away his tears but his hands wouldn't move. He was tied down.

"What the-?"

Harry looked around quickly. He was sitting in the courtroom where he had been tried for underage magic. Up in the high benches sat the shadowy figures of the Wizengamot. As Harry cautiously sat up straighter the members of the Wizengamot started muttering as if he had done something wrong, their faces aggressive and scared.

Four familiar figures sat in the front row; Albus Dumbledore, Cornelius Fudge, Madame Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Harry stared around the dark courtroom with red-rimmed eyes, bewildered.

"You had a rather adverse and unexpected reaction to the Dementors. I believe you fainted, but it seems that now you are well enough to continue with the trial," said Dumbledore.

Harry looked at him, expecting to see the familiar twinkle in his eyes but there was nothing but a steely glint as he stared at Harry.

"Trial of Harry James Potter," Dumbledore announced, and the immediate scratching sound told Harry that someone was taking notes, "His charges are as follows: assisting the Dark Wizard Lord Voldemort and of being a Deatheater, 6 accounts of murder and causing the deaths of 108 witches and wizards.

"Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Kingsley Shacklebolt, previously Chief Auror of the Campaign to capture Harry Potter. Court Scribe, Eleanor McKinnon. Witness for the Defense-"

Here Dumbledore stopped and looked around the courtroom expectantly, Harry did as well but after a few seconds he realised the truth. There was no one to defend him.

"Leave it as a blank," Fudge whispered to the scribe.

"How do you plead?" said Dumbledore.

"To-to those charges?" Harry stammered. When no one answered him he said, "I-er, not guilty, I suppose."

He cleared his throat nervously as the Wizengamot shifted in what was evidently surprise. Fudge was the next person to speak.

"You are Harry Potter of … what is your current address?" he asked.

"It's Number 4 Privet Drive, Surrey."

"Surrey." Fudge stated in a flat tone. Harry suspected he was making fun of him. "You live in Surrey." he repeated.

"Er, yeah."

"Forgive me for appearing impertinent," said Madame Bones. "But most of us are under the impression that you live with You-Know-Who."

"Think before you answer," said Kingsley in his deep voice. "We have concrete evidence of this."

"But - I-I've always lived there," said Harry, getting more and more confused. Why were they bothered about where he lived? Everyone in the front row should know he lived in Privet Drive. "I don't know which newspaper you've been reading to get that information but I live with my aunt and uncle. I've lived there since I was a baby."

"Not with your parents?" inquired Dumbledore.

"My parents are dead," Harry spat out, the words feeling like poison in his mouth.

"Dead." Fudge said in that same flat tone. Harry felt a surge of annoyance. Can't Fudge just ask me a proper question, instead of repeating everything I say?

"I think we've found out all we can from this line of inquiry," said Dumbledore, shooting a sharp glance at Fudge.

Fudge nodded and waved his wand, conjuring a photo. Harry narrowed his eyes, but without his glasses, he could hardly see the photo at all. The Wizengamot were all staring at him, as though expecting some reaction.

"Er-" he said timidly, "before we start … could I, have my glasses? I can't see very much."

"No," Fudge stated flatly. "Now, Mr Potter. I have here a photo of a certain witch and wizard. I want you to tell me whether you can recognise them."

Harry squinted at the picture floating in front of him. Two people … one had … light brown hair…

He looked up hesitantly. "I-uh, can't really see it that well … you know, without my glasses."

"Fine!" Fudge snapped in annoyance. "Ocular!" and a pair of glasses appeared on the end of Harry's nose.

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed in recognition. "It's Neville's parents, isn't it?" Why are they showing this to me? he thought inwardly.

"Alice Longbottom died one year ago," said Dumbledore, as if in answer to his unspoken question. "Voldemort believed she had valuable information about the Ministry and other organisations. He sent several Deatheaters and one of his most recognisable and feared Deatheaters. You."

"Wha - me?" Harry spluttered. "But I'm not a - Neville's mum isn't-" It was difficult to get the words out. It was too much to take in. What was Dumbledore thinking? What had changed so much since 5th year to make everyone think like this?

"You arrived at the Longbottom's house in the middle of the night," Fudge continued. "But when Frank and Alice refused your demands, you used Cruciatus on them in an effort to make them give up this information. Aurors arrived too late to capture you and the other Deatheaters and Alice died later in St. Mungo's. Frank survived but the numerous Cruciatus curses left him insane."

"That's - that's-" Harry could hardly speak. "That's the stupidest bloody thing I've ever heard! I haven't used a Cruciatus curse on anyone!"

"No-one?" Dumbledore said. His blue eyes seemed to stare right through Harry. He knows, Harry thought in a panic, he knows.

"No-one!" Harry shouted, his voice cracking through stress.

Kingsley spoke up. "I know something about liars, and I know when someone's lying. And you are lying now."

"She deserved it!" Harry screamed before he was even aware of thinking the thought. He gasped, shocked by what he had just said, his breathing sounding harsh in his ears.

"Alice Longbottom deserved to die?" Dumbledore said, looking at Harry in an emotion close to revulsion.

"I-I-" Harry stammered, finding himself unable to speak. "I - don't -"

"Do you have anything else you wish to say, Minister Fudge?" interrupted Madame Bones.

"No," said Fudge and he waved his wand, and the photo disappeared. He waved his wand again and this time tiny ghostly figures rose up. It reminded Harry of Dumbledore's pensieve, when he had shown him the prophesy.

Harry was almost too upset to concentrate on the figures, but as he watched, the ghostly vapour formed into a vague representation of a house and a street. Two men came crashing through the door of the house, clearly panicked about something, and were immediately followed by three Deatheaters wearing white masks.

As Harry watched, the three Deatheaters shot curses at the two other men, who were clearly on the losing side of the duel. Two Muggles with hit with stray curses and finally one of the men was killed; the other followed shortly after.

The shortest Deatheater strode up and kicked one of the two men.

"He's dead," said the Deatheater, and Harry was jolted with shock. The person sounded so familiar, but he couldn't think who it was.

"Come on, let's go," said another Deatheater and he shot up the Dark Mark into the sky before the memory was abruptly cut short.

"So, Mr Potter," said Fudge briskly, all business again. "This is the memory of a Muggle who witnessed the horrendous killings of Gideon Prewett & his brother Fabian Prewett and two Muggles on the twentieth of February, 1994. Do you care to give your version of these events?"

"Me?" Harry said incredulously. "What's this got to with me? Oh, no wait, I'm supposed to have killed those two men and those Muggles as well am I?"

He was getting annoyed again, and he knew it. It was awfully what had happened to those two men, but if the Wizengamot was going to try and pin this one of him as well … well, he wasn't going to be all meek and let them.

"Answer the question," said Madame Bones sternly, looking down at Harry.

"I don't have 'a version of these events'!" Harry yelled. "Because I was never there! I've never been a Deatheater!" Can't they get that into their thick skulls? he added on his head.

"You're pleading innocent to the murders of Gideon, Fabian and the two Muggles then?" asked Kingsley.

"Yes!"

"Can you provide an alibi?" said Dumbledore.

"I was at-" Harry said immediately and then stopped. "What was the date again?" he asked.

"Twentieth of February, 1994," repeated Kingsley.

"Oh that's-" Harry started, suddenly remembering. "That was four days before the second task, I was at Hogwart's then."

"What do you mean by 'the second task'?" asked Madame Bones.

"The Triwizard Tournament!" Harry said annoyed. When no-one seemed to remember it, he went on. "It was held at Hogwarts, and Beaubatons and Durmstrang had come to compete in the tournament as well. I was the fourth champion, and Cedric was the other champion for Hogwarts."

The four members of the Wizengamot at the front looked at each other. The other members high up started to mutter, glaring at Harry as though he was trying to trick them. Finally Madame Bones spoke up again.

"There are several things wrong with your alibi. One, the Triwizard tournament wasn't held two years ago and hasn't been held for centuries. Two, there are only ever three champions. Three, you stopped attending Hogwarts in the middle of your third year and four, we have a recording of you at the scene of the crime."

"What!" Harry sputtered. "No you don't!"

Fudge conjured up the memory again and seemed to fast-forward before freezing it in place.

"Say 'he's dead'," he ordered Harry.

"Er - he's dead," Harry said, confused.

The memory un-froze and Harry heard the voice of the smallest Deatheater say, "He's dead."

"But that's-that's-" Harry said weakly, his brain refusing to accept the possibility. "But I-I don't remember that happening, it can't have happened."

"Our voice print experts confirm that this is your voice. Had anyone been using a spell to sound like you, they would've known," said Madame Bones looking at Harry in a calculatingly way. "So why don't you remember this happening?"

"I-I don't know," Harry stammered. "I don't - I don't understand anything that's happening."

Madame Bones looked over at Dumbledore. "Is it possible that he's lost his memory somehow, Albus?" she asked in a whisper.

"I haven't lost my memory," Harry burst out, trying to explain. "I - at least - I don't think I have. But I didn't do that, I know I wouldn't. I'm not a murderer."

Dumbledore looked carefully at Harry. "Perhaps you should move onto the next incident," he suggested to Fudge.

"The court calls the Witness for the Prosecution, Cedric Diggory," said Fudge loudly and the next second a tall boy emerged from a door to the side of the courtroom and sat down on a chair Fudge conjured. Cedric looked over at Harry in extreme dislike.

Harry's neck twitched slightly and his foot started to shake, tapping against the floor. He couldn't look away from the boy who had died little more than a year ago.

"Mr Potter?" Dumbledore's voice broke through Harry's trance.

Harry glanced wildly back at Dumbledore, his throat constricted. He opened his mouth as if to say something.

"Mr Potter? Are you alright?" Dumbledore again.

"I-I - no."

He bent his down to his hand and carefully wiped his face. He rested his forehead against the arm of the chair and closed his eyes. Comforting black immediately surrounded him and he breathed deeply, calming himself down.

He wasn't in the courtroom anymore, he could be anywhere, he was probably at the Dursley's and Dudley had tied him up for a joke or something. And any second now Aunt Petunia would yell that it was time for tea. He was back at the Dursley's.

As long as his eyes were closed he was anywhere.

"…happened when the Deatheaters attacked?" Fudge was talking.

"There was this banging noise from downstairs and I think we both knew it was Deatheaters," came Cedric's voice.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on breathing in and out. He was at the Dursley's. He was at Hogwarts…

"Cho shoved Lin, her little sister towards me and pushed us both towards the window. We clambered out onto the roof and Cho was about to climb out too, but the-the door flew open."

Breathe in. Breathe out. I'm not here, I'm not here.

"Who was there?"

"Deatheaters, of course. I couldn't see, I'd scrambled back out of sight but I saw how many there were, there were about seven and I-I couldn't help her. I had Lin with me, and she was only about six then and if I'd tried to help Cho, I knew we would've all died. I-I would've done something if Lin was there but I couldn't."

"And what happened next?"

"I pulled Lin away from the window and we crawled around the corner on the roof. There was a grate there - those bricks with holes in to let air come into the room - and-and I could see through there. I should've just taken Lin and run but…" Cedric cleared his throat. "The Deatheaters wanted something from Cho, they wanted information, something her parents knew, I didn't know. She wouldn't give it to them. I don't think she even knew anything but they kept asking. And then the Deatheater Harry Potter put a Cruciatus curse on her."

"Is this the same Harry Potter that is currently in this courtroom?"

Harry felt an imagined stare.

"Yes."

"Let the court acknowledge that a witness confirms Harry Potter was there in the attack on Cho Chang."

There was a pause for a second that was filled with the quiet mutterings from the Wizengamot before Cedric continued with his story. "Cho was crying and trying to-to get him to stop but he wanted the information. He used the Cruciatus curse twice before killing her."

"Did he just leave then?" Madame Bones asked.

"No," said Cedric, sounding unsure. "He-he got all the other Deatheaters to leave and then-and then he knelt beside her and stroked her hair. I-I never figured out why he did that."

"How do you plead to Cho Chang's murder after hearing from a witness Mr Potter?" said Fudge smugly.

I'm not here, I'm not here.

"Mr Potter!"

Not here.

The next second someone had yanked Harry's head up. He opened his eyes. He stared at Cedric.

"Not guilty," he said thickly.

The hand let go and Harry's head fell back against the chair.

"Not guilty?" Fudge repeated sitting back in his chair and tapping his fingers impatiently. "Then who do you suppose did kill Cho Chang? How many identical twins do you have running about, Mr Potter?"

"She's not dead," said Harry flatly.

Cedric looked up, hope kindling in his eyes. "You mean Cho?" he asked eagerly. "Where is she then?"

But Kingsley Shacklebolt interrupted Cedric before he could ask anything else. "No, Mr Diggory. Cho is dead, we have solid proof of it. This is just another Deatheater trick."

Cedric's look of hope quickly turned into anger.

"She's alive," Harry repeated. "I saw her a few weeks ago. She was on the Hogwarts Express with her friend Marietta but she was ignoring me because I'd broken up with her just before school en-"

"What are you talking about?" interrupted Madame Bones in an incredulous tone. "I'm so sorry Mr Diggory, Mr Potter is just saying this malicious lie to try and goad you."

"I'm not lying!" said Harry, slight feelings of annoyance coming back to him and waking him out of his numbness. "Cho went out with me for a short while in my fifth year. It was just after her boyfriend, Cedric had died in the Triwizard Tournament so she was crying all the time and it didn't really work out because of that. We broke up before the summer holidays and she was definitely still alive then."

There was a sudden movement from Cedric as though he wanted to punch Harry.

The Wizengamot as muttering to themselves and some were even smirking at Harry, like he was somehow funny.

"If Cedric died," asked Dumbledore, almost gently. "Who's sitting in the witness box?"

"No-one," said Harry automatically, although he was as much surprised by his answer as the rest of the court. "There's no-one sitting in the witness box. It's an empty space. Cedric is dead, he died, he's not alive, there's no-one there."

No-one seemed to know what to say to that. Then Dumbledore spoke, again in that gentle tone, as though Harry was a small child that couldn't understand anything.

"Harry, Cedric is sitting right in front of you. Cho died more than a year ago, you know this."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," said Harry, his breathing becoming more and more panicky. "I've said I'm not guilty and that's all you need. I'm not saying anymore."

"I think that's all we need from you Cedric, you can leave now."

Cedric scowled at Harry once more before getting up and leaving quietly out of the door.

Harry turned back to Dumbledore and the rest of the Wizengamot. He wished this would just end, how much longer did he have to stay here? But then an unpleasant thought came into his head. They really believe you're a Deatheater … and you're not doing a very good job of defending yourself … and what happens to Deatheaters? They get put in Azkaban.

Maybe he wouldn't be leaving, he'd just get taken to Azkaban, and he'd never see any of his friends again.

"The next incident," said Kingsley. "Was just before you disappeared for a year. Along with a team of about twenty Deatheaters you attacked the Daily Prophet's headquarters. It is believed that this was only intended to be a raid but you were discovered shortly in.

"Several Deatheaters were killed very quickly and in an effort to escape you started a fire. Unfortunately this fire quickly got out of hand. Everyone in there was trapped because of the anti-apparation fields and because you and the group of Deatheaters had already disable the Floo Network.

"The building was burnt down and 72 Daily Prophet employees were killed, as well as 14 Aurors who had been summoned to help in the fire and the twenty Deatheaters who were with you. 108 people altogether. Only 5 people escaped. And up until now it was believed that you had died in the fire as well. So how did you escape?"

"And once you'd escaped," asked Madame Bones, not waiting to hear Harry's answer, "how did you get past the Aurors and Ministry workers outside? The whole area was sealed off."

"I don't remember," Harry repeated, a little flustered by all the questions he didn't understand. "I didn't even know the Daily Prophet place got burned down."

The four members of the Wizengamot in the front looked at each other, appearing quite fed-up of Harry saying 'I don't know' to every single question.

"Where did you hide for the last year?" asked Kingsley.

"Um-I don't think I hid anywhere, I was at Hogwarts for my fifth year."

Dumbledore spoke up. "How did you get that scar on your forehead? Was it self-inflicted or did something else give to you?"

"You're joking aren't you?" Harry asked, looked at the Wizengamot in sheer disbelief. "I got it when I was one. Voldemort tried to kill me, to use the killing curse on me but it didn't work."

"Don't be stupid," said Fudge, sounding flustered. "No-one can survive a killing curse."

"Er-except me," said Harry. "But everyone already knows this …"

Inside his head Harry was thinking furiously. Everyone in this courtroom had to know about his scar, he was famous for it, for god's sake. Maybe it isn't Dumbledore, he thought. Maybe they're just trying to pretend, maybe they're Deatheaters.

"You're not Dumbledore!" Harry yelled out rather abruptly. "You're all Deatheaters. The real Dumbledore would have known about my scar and so would everyone else. You're just trying to trick me or something!"

Dumbledore's eyebrows flew up in surprise. "The reason I don't know about your scar, Harry, is because you were never attacked when you were one by Voldemort. None of us have ever seen this scar before, so you must have got it during your one year disappearance."

"And why would Deatheaters want to trick you?" Fudge said. "You're a Deatheater yourself."

"No I'm-"

"I think that's enough for now, Harry," said Dumbledore, interrupting. "How do you plead to causing the deaths of 108 witches and wizards?"

"Not guilty," said Harry resignedly. He had just realised his mistake. They couldn't really be Deatheaters, because Deatheaters would know about his scar, and they wouldn't bother having this trial. What would be the point? Voldemort would just want to kill him straight away because of the prophecy.

Fudge looked around. "Does anyone else wish to say something?" he asked.

"I do," said Dumbledore. "I believe something is very wrong with Harry Potter, as some of you may have already guessed from his answers. I wish to present evidence of Harry Potter's current behaviour since he was found by Sirius Black."

"I wasn't found!" Harry burst out. "No-one found me! Sirius is dead!"

Dumbledore ignored him and said, "I call my first witness, Sirius Black."

The door to the side opened up and Sirius stepped out and sat down on a seat. He stared at Harry, looking rather shocked. Harry knew he must look a sight, his eyes were red and his hair was standing up with sweat. He fixed Sirius with a stare before looking away. He shut his eyes.

No-one's there. No-one's there. No-one's there.

"How did Mr Potter react when you first found him, Sirius?"

Harry opened his eyes and stared at Sirius. He couldn't look at away. It was just like Sirius. How many times had he wished he could talk to Sirius; that the mirror had somehow worked? But here Sirius was, sitting right in front of him. It's not him, he's dead, he died, he's dead.

"He didn't seem to understand why I was taking him prisoner," Sirius said. "He kept saying that Lily and James were dead and he thought I was dead as well. He thought I had been pushed behind a veil or something."

"Did he seem dangerous at all?"

"No, he didn't try to stop me taking him prisoner at all. It was easier than I thought it would be."

"In your opinion, was he acting at all like he had done before his disappearance?" asked Dumbledore.

"Not really. I thought he would have at least tried to curse me or something but he didn't do anything."

"What about when you saw him the second time? How did he react then?"

"Well, two other Aurors had tried to bring him after he escaped from the Ministry. I got a message that they had caught him so I went up to the Atrium to meet them. He was fighting with the other Aurors when I found him, trying to escape. So I went and grabbed him, so he couldn't escape."

"And then how did he react?"

"It was strange. When he heard my voice he started crying and - I think he tried to hug me. He wouldn't stop crying until I'd put him into a cell. And he didn't want to get put into a cell either, he tried to grab at me through the bars."

"Thank you, Sirius, that's all."

Sirius stood up and walked away, glancing back to see Harry Potter staring at him. He shivered slightly; it was scary, that way he was staring. He looked back ahead, trying not to trip as he walked out of the door. It was only when he was out of sight that he breathed a sigh of relief.

He looked over at Lily and James, who were waiting to be called in.

"It's scary," he said to them. "It's like he's obsessed with me, he wouldn't look away."

Before Lily or James could answer, they heard Dumbledore saying their names and they walked in.

Harry's foot twitched when he heard Dumbledore say his parent's names but it twitched even more when they walked in and took their seats. That's it, that's enough. I've had enough.

"Alright, so I'm mad!" said Harry loudly. "You don't have to keep on doing this, you don't have to parade every dead person I know in front of me."

"So you believe your parents to be dead, Harry?" asked Dumbledore.

"They are dead," said Harry, getting more and more upset. "And I-I don't know who's up there but it's not my parents, my parents-"

He broke off again when he realised he was close to crying. He rested his forehead on his hand again and curled his toes, trying to control himself. He wished he could just find a bed and curl up in it, instead of sitting here in full view of everyone.

"-yelled at us to get out," the man was saying. "We didn't move and he got hysterical. He was yelling that we were dead. I think he thought we were trying to trick him or something."

"And-and then he screamed," said the woman. "And he started sobbing. We didn't know what to do so we just left."

"How had you expected him to react?"

"I don't know," the woman said. "I thought he would be angry and uncaring about us. I thought that if we came to see him he would just say horrible things to us."

"I didn't expect him to react the way he did," said the man. "It seemed like he was really upset but I didn't think he would be emotional or anything like that."

"Do you have any ideas why he acted the way he did?"

"Maybe he was ashamed?" said the man. "But I don't really know, it didn't seem like something Harry would do. He doesn't show emotion very much."

"Thank you," said Dumbledore again. "You may leave." Harry listened to the footsteps and looked up when he heard the door close. Okay, he thought to himself. There was no one there. That wasn't my parents.

Dumbledore didn't call another witness.

"A few hours after that, Harry Potter escaped," he said. "He had help from other Deatheaters and they transported him to Voldemort. However, our sources say that Harry Potter didn't go with them willingly and that he was actually trying to escape. When he taken to Voldemort, screaming was heard from inside the room. Apparently Voldemort could not go near Harry without causing him pain similar to the Cruciatus curse.

"He was taken to a room but he tried shortly after to escape again. Witnesses in the Leaky Cauldron reported seeing him step out of the fire before being chased into Muggle London by another man, a suspected Deatheater.

"He then caught the Knight Bus, after apparently escaped the other Deatheater. But, he didn't try to harm any of the passengers. On the contrary, witnesses say that he was polite, and apologised for having no money to pay the fare. He started up a conversation with another boy a year younger than him, which is most interesting. He told the boy how confused he was, about people calling him a Deatheater and other people trying to curse him.

"The bus dropped him off at Ottery St. Catchpole where he attempted to visit the Weasleys. They successfully captured him and tied him up. Harry told them that he only wanted to see the Weasley's youngest son, Ron and that he didn't understand why everyone thought he was a Deatheater. I was there at the time, Arthur Weasley firecalled me for assistance. This was when Harry came into the room, holding Ron as hostage. He asked me why I believed he was a Deatheater but before I could answer properly he let go of Ron and ran away. Note that he didn't actually hurt Ron.

"Now you should ask yourself, is this normal behaviour for a Deatheater? Three times he lets himself be captured by Aurors and Ministry wizards and when he is taken to Voldemort, he escapes as soon as possible."

Harry's heart leapt. Dumbledore doesn't believe I'm a Deatheater! I can get out of here!

The Wizengamot were muttering now, looking unsurely over at Harry. Dumbledore seemed quite pleased by the response.

"There is one other piece of evidence I have to show you," said Dumbledore. He waved his wand and silvery mist emerged and formed itself into the shape of a bed. Harry leaned forward and saw a small figure curled up on it. Himself.

Harry watched as the figure muttered in its sleep. He felt embarrassed; it was like the Wizengamot could see all his deepest thoughts. When it was over he looked up at Dumbledore, unsure why he had decided to show this as evidence. What did a nightmare prove?

"I believe that Harry was used in very powerful dark spell involving Voldemort. Blood must have been one of the key ingredients, as you can see from this memory and I believe the scar on Harry's forehead was used for the blood."

Dumbledore waved his wand and Harry's hair parted to one side, revealing the scar. Harry quickly tried to push his hair back.

"The shape of his scar is very unusual and must have been an important part of the spell. Many spells can last years and this spell must have lasted about a year and was begun after the fire. Harry only escaped from Voldemort only a few days ago. This must have been why there was so little Deatheater activity last year, as Voldemort must have been completely concerned with this spell. This also explains Harry Potter's bizarre behaviour. A Healer with a Muggle psychology degree managed to interview Harry when he was first caught.

"I call my fourth witness, Healer Smethwyke."

Harry looked over at the man who came out and sat down. It was the Healer he had met a few days ago, who had been so obsessed by the fire.

Smethwyk cleared his throat anxiously and ruffled the papers he was carrying. "Harry Potter's behaviour," he started, "fits in with a person suffering from repression and false memories. As a result of a traumatic event, most probably the spell Headmaster Dumbledore was talking about, he has constructed an entirely new set of memories along with a new personality to erase other traumatic events from his past.

"For instance, Harry believes that his parents are dead because it is easier not to remember anything traumatic that happened between them. In his new life that he has constructed, his parents died when he was one, so they have, in effect, been erased from his life. He believes that he has always attended Hogwarts, removing any unpleasant memories of being a Deatheater. His belief that he went out with Cho Chang for a short while can also be explained by this theory. Surely it is more preferable for him to think that he went out with Cho instead of remembering the time when he killed her."

"That's not true!" Harry shouted, angrily. He had thought Dumbledore was going to prove to everyone that he wasn't a Deatheater, but instead he had come up with some crazy theory about repression. "My memories are real!"

Smethywk ignored him and went on. "Therefore he cannot be held responsible for these crimes if he doesn't remember doing them."

Fudge looked over at Dumbledore. "What are you trying to say Albus?" he asked.

"You may leave," Dumbledore said aside to Smethwyk and then he said, "I believe that Harry should be put into St. Mungo's, not sentenced to Azkaban."

"I'm too young for Azkaban," Harry said to no-one in particular, horrified that they were even considering it.

The four members turned to each other and started muttering among themselves. After about five minutes they turned back to Harry.

Dumbledore spoke. "In light of Harry Potter's disturbed behaviour and Healer Smethwyk's belief that he cannot be held responsible for his crimes if he does not remember them; Harry shall be sentenced to St. Mungo's until he is cured and at that point he will be sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban. All in favour?"

About three-quarters of the hands in the courtroom went up.

"All against?"

The other quarter put their hands up.

"The trial of Harry Potter is finished," continued Dumbledore, "and his sentence has been given."

Two Aurors who had been standing behind Harry came up and untied the chains and started to lead him away.

"What the - wait a second," Harry started to say. He couldn't believe what had just happened. They couldn't put the Boy-Who-Lived in Azkaban! How was he meant to fight Voldemort from in there? He hadn't done anything wrong!

"Wait - Dumbledore!" he yelled, trying to fight the Aurors. "Dumbledore you can't do this! I'm the one! I'm the one from the prophecy! How am I-"

His words were cut off as Aurors dragged him away and slammed the door, shutting him off from the courtroom. The last thing he saw was Dumbledore stand up suddenly, a shocked expression on his face.