Harry Potter and the Brethren Prophecy

Chapter 2 ~ Trial and Tension

"Harry? How are you feeling? Do you -"

A sudden violent retching from the battered lanky body atop the immaculate starched hospital sheets broke through the kind, sympathetic stammering. Remus Lupin could do nothing but rub the boy´s bruised back and murmured soothing platitudes as Harry´s abdominal muscles convulsed under the sudden force of a particularly strong wakefulness draught. The Mediwitch had politely informed him that this was the one last option for getting Harry to wake up and, in using a potion of such calibre, there might be some minor side effects. Minor had most definitely been an understatement as Remus looked on with mounting dread, noticing that the flow of blood from Harry´s head wounds now matched the flow of crimson streaming from his mouth.

"Harry, it´s all right. Wake up now," he said as his voice cracked, betraying the otherwise calm note in his tense words. His statement was followed by another round of violent, wheezing coughs that slowly dwindled to dry raspy hiccups. Remus tried again. "Harry?"

There was silence.

"Harry? Wake up."

More silence.

"Please?" Lupin asked quietly, his voice taking on a tone of frantic urgency as he lifted Harry by the shoulders to force him awake.

Suddenly, a plethora of doctors and nurses came pouring through the door, alerted to their famous patient´s health by a series of monitoring charms that had gone off the second he started slipping. Forming a tight circle around the bed and rudely shoving Lupin out of the way, the Mediwizards had created an impenetrable wall of stark white lab robes, each muttering softly to the one next to them, causing a ripple of hushed whispers to move within the otherwise immobile group. When they took their wands out and started various treatments, the whisper rose in pitch when Harry demonstrated no response, his skin taking on a pale translucent hue. The doctors began to panic as his gasping breaths became shallow and the subtle muscle spasms in his arms and torso ceased. Lupin watched in horror from the corner of the room as one of the doctors shook her head forlornly with sad downcast eyes. His heartbeat was becoming fainter. The wall of doctors slowly parted as if drawing back the curtains concealing a particularly gruesome portrait of death, and they allowed Lupin to see the body of his favourite student lying tangled amongst the damp sheets, battered and broken and undeniably dead.

"No." It was said as a whisper but came out like a shout in the impossible still room. Remus stood isolated in his corner, amber eyes gleaming in contrast to the stark white walls.

"We´re sorry," a female doctor with tears in her eyes started with a consoling inflection to her words. "There´s nothing - "

"No!" Remus shouted in an uncharacteristic show of blatant anguish.

Rushing to the bedside, he proceeded to lay his hands upon Harry´s chest, gently calling out his name in an attempt to lure him back to life, to trick his heart into beating again. As the astounded group of doctors looked on, Lupin sealed his mouth over Harry´s, blowing frantic puffs of hot air into the dead boy´s lungs. They all shook their heads and turned away, dismissing the professor´s use of the archaic Muggle resuscitation technique as an act bred from pure grief and simmering frustration. For the doctors knew they had done everything and that Harry Potter was most definitely dead.

Then he moved.

It was a subtle movement, but a movement none the less. Everyone in the room noticed the faint twitch of Harry´s right index finger, which was then followed by a larger spasm in his left leg. And then, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived Yet Again, inhaled a deep, prolonged breath and sat bolt upright, flinging Lupin to the side, as he stared wide-eyed into the room and choked on large gasps of precious oxygen.

The doctors gasped in amazement. Lupin cried out with joy. Harry started retching over the side of the bed.

~~**~~

Hours later, the tiny hospital room had finally settled. The parade of doctors and nurses that had originally charged themselves with Harry´s care had diminished to a couple of vigilant Mediwitches who perched themselves outside Harry´s door, scribbling on parchments and growling menacingly anytime anyone looked as if they wanted to enter. The boy did need his rest, after all. The one person the two pit bull-like nurses had granted admittance to, simply for the fact that he outright refused to leave, was Remus Lupin. He had set up camp beside Harry, gently holding his hand or stroking his shoulder throughout the arduous series of bone mending potions and healing draughts. He didn´t speak, however. It was surprising how little there was to say to someone just fresh from a lovely holiday with death. `How about this weather we´re having?´ seemed a little too chipper while `So what was it like, being legally declared dead?´ was much too apathetic a comment to be used in such a serious situation. Eventually something had to be said as the silence was too unbearable, so Remus settled with a tried and true guaranteed conversation starter.

"You really scared me there, you know. I´d be very grateful if you refrained from trying that again."

Harry gave him a weak smile. "Sorry," he said in a hoarse whisper.

"Don´t be. What happened, Harry? How did ..." Lupin couldn´t continue. Harry had turned his head away and had his eyes clamped shut, his fingers digging into the bed sheets.

"I´m sorry, I shouldn´t have asked. It´s not my place -"

"The Dursley´s kicked me out, told me I should have died like my parents. There was a Death Eater..." Harry spoke in a whisper, words drifting through the room on chariots pulled by agony and despair.

"The Dursleys? Harry why didn´t you tell anyone they were giving you trouble? "

"I tried. I always got the same answer. `You´re safest with your family, no matter what.´"

Lupin bit his lip, recalling those very words escaping his lips on several occasions in the past. "Oh, Harry," he started miserably. "I´m so sorry. I never -"

"No it´s not your fault. It´s nobody´s fault. I should have just -" he stopped, a little spark of sudden realization lighting up his face. "Sirius! How´s Sirius?" he demanded.

Lupin sighed. "Honestly Harry, for one moment in your life just worry about yourself." Noticing Harry´s tense expression he sighed again and continued. "Your godfather is fine. I actually met with him today, after I brought you here. He´s, well, he´s doing good."

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Did you tell him about me? Is he really okay?"

Lupin sighed, his brow creasing into a series of premature chips and cracks that tended to show whenever Sirius´ name was brought up. "I told him. He, um..." Lupin paused and emitted a drawn out sigh, emanating from balancing precariously on a high wire of half truths, "He didn´t take it too well..."

~~**~~

"They´re dead," Sirius declared after Lupin had finished his recount of Harry´s ordeal. The story had been significantly edited to a short synopsis of a minor attack in the interest of Sirius´ fraying mental health and to keep his friend from doing something he might later regret - namely, racing to the Dursleys to strangle them all with his bare hands for not keeping Harry safe.

Perhaps, in hindsight, Lupin had failed to omit enough. Or perhaps the mere mention of a bee stinging Harry would send Sirius into a fit of rage until he had found the said insect, thoroughly stomped it to death and then went after its family for good measure. After all, Sirius did seem to have limited patience for those who tried to hurt his godson.

Recomposing his neutral features into the epitome of grim determination, Sirius pushed past Lupin and moved to the bars of his cell, looking utterly unfazed by this obstacle. Needless to say, he did not react well to his friend´s restraining hand upon his shoulder.

"This is not the time for vengeance. We have more important things to worry about than Vernon Dursley and a lone Death Eater."

"Dear God, listen to yourself, Remus! Think of what those horrible excuses for humans did to him! You have the nerve to try and stop me? Harry is the only family I have. I made a promise to James and Lily, everything else comes in a distant second. How can you sit there and do nothing?" Sirius concluded, face scarlet, chest heaving, fists clenched in the adrenaline induced spirit of sadistic slow torture and dismemberment. The two men glared wordlessly at one another, a subtle twitch along Remus´ clenched jaw betraying by means of a sort of muscular Morse code that his friend had literally hit a nerve. At last, Lupin released his shoulder and stepped back.

"Then you´re a fool. How well will you protect Harry from the confines of an Azkaban prison cell?" They extended their staring contest for a little while longer until finally Sirius´ eyes, head and shoulders sagged simultaneously under the weight of the recollection of his last incarceration in that same formidable facility. "A sensible decision," Lupin nodded approvingly, then added in a quiet whisper, "They´ll get what´s coming to them, don´t worry. Let´s worry about getting you out of here first."

Sirius acknowledged his friend with a grunt and fixed his gaze on the tiny rain-streaked barred window and onto the small squares of glowing light from the Muggle office building next to his cell. Remus continued to speak in the far off distance, eventually taking his leave with a sigh, heeding Sirius´ infamous one track mind which no doubt had been revolving around various plots to avenge his godson with a few swift vicious waves of his wrist.

"Get some sleep, old friend. We have a busy day ahead of us."

Sirius stayed at the window for the remainder of the night, drifting through the obsidian void of despair at his own ineffectiveness until the sun´s early morning rays bathed his cell in rose pink and two formally dressed Ministry officials briskly entered, locked his wrists in magically reinforced iron manacles and led him to trial.

~~**~~

"Honey, wake up. There´s an owl here for you. It´s from the Ministry."

Arthur Weasley´s head lolled groggily toward the direction of his wife´s gentle wake up call. By the looks of things, it was either very early in the morning or very late at night and either way it was no time for Arthur to be responding to the post.

"I´ll look into it tomorrow, dear. Let me sleep," he said, opening one tired eye to peer out into the darkness.

"Oh, but it looks important and the owl won´t let me take the letter. It must be classified information."

With a grunt, Arthur made several attempts to grab his glasses off the nightstand, mumbling angrily every time he missed. Finally, with his spectacles placed lopsided on his slightly elongated nose, he reached blindly for the owl, who deftly swooped down, delivered the parchment neatly into his lap and soared out the open window. With a groan, Arthur flopped back down onto his pillow and attempted to fall back to sleep.

"Oh, do read it now, dear. It could be terribly important." Molly Weasley, the kind-hearted mother of seven who seemed to be suspended in a constant state of worry, said eagerly. Every time one of her children was not in her immediate sight, she felt a nervous twinge of anxiety whenever these important owls flew into her home. This was the same for her husband and Harry Potter for that matter, both of which seemed to get in more trouble than all her children combined. It was no wonder she was in such a state when unexpected post such as this arrived.

Gurgling with mild agitation at his wife´s fussiness, Arthur picked his limp form off the bed and grabbed his wand.

"Lumos," he said quietly and suddenly the room was filled with a soft, pale light.

Unrolling the parchment, he quickly scanned over the fine print, picking out key words as he went along. When he was finished he read it again, this time more thoroughly, making sure he understood every inflection before he went back and read in three more times for good measure. When he was finished, he placed the parchment on his lap with a shaking hand, an expression of dumbfounded, bewildered excitement written over his pale freckled features.

"Well? What was it?"

"I have to appear at the trial of Sirius Black tomorrow."

"Why? You handle Muggle Affairs, why would they ask you -"

"It seems they´ve appointed a new Minister of Magic," he paused, inhaling sharply and blinking with stunned amazement. "It´s... well, it´s me."

* * * * * *

Feeling slightly lightheaded, Harry and Remus took their seats amongst the lines of witches and wizards that had already found spots along the rows of roughly hewn wooden benches. The large circular room was dark, as only the light of a dozen flickering torches illuminated the cavernous space. The room was topped by a high vaulted ceiling with dark mahogany rafters that came together at a peak in the centre. Directly below it was a lone, thick, high backed wooden chair that looked as if no one had sat in it for years. Four heavy iron manacles were fastened to the arms and legs, which disappeared into the concrete floor as if they had been driven in to keep it from walking away. Directly in front of this chair were two long desks and a tall podium, all raised up on a wooden platform to look down on the accused.

The people that made up the audience in this particular room were an odd assortment of familiar and foreign faces. Across from Harry were several Hogwarts professors including Hagrid, Professors McGonagall and Snape and Mad Eye Moody, the former Auror who had a penchant for distrusting everyone around him. Harry noted with a frown that Professor Dumbledore was conspicuously absent amongst them. To the right of the podium sat Mrs. Weasley, in between Ron and Hermione. Harry slunk down into his seat, not wanting to be spotted by any well wishers just yet. To the left of the podium sat twelve witches and wizards completely unknown to Harry, and he suspected them to be the jury, chosen because they had no ties with the accused. The rest of the seats were taken up by a number of Ministry officials (his neighbour Arabella Figg and Amos Diggory, Cedric´s father, included) and many complete strangers.

Then the soft clink of a key in a lock and the reluctant shudder of a heavy wooden door signaled the arrival of the man of the hour, his head bowed and arms chained, flanked by three massive wizards with rather formidable looking obsidian wands aimed directly at their prisoner´s chest. Sirius was led to the centre of the chamber and ordered to sit. He did so without complaint as the guards fastened the heavy steel around his arms and legs, then preformed unbreakable charms just for good measure. Lupin gave an involuntary shudder at seeing his normally strong willed friend so restrained and submissive. As if watching a caged unicorn, the tableau seemed somehow sad and unnatural.

Once the guards had left his sides, Sirius´ eyes immediately began to wander about the room, studying every face in search of one particular bespectacled dark haired boy among the throng of spectators. Almost instantly he found him, locking his gaze with the boy in question. Harry had pulled himself bolt upright and was looking down at his godfather with a mixture of sympathy and distress.

Like lightning searching out the highest landmark, all eyes in the courtroom followed suit and focused their energies upon Harry´s black and blue body as hushed murmurs rose and converged into a single panicked exclamation. It seemed they were all personally offended by the sight as if they had all laid claim to a piece of their Golden Boy and seeing him in such a state was a personal affront to their refined sensibilities. Even those who had never met Harry felt that in some karmic scale that they owed him their lives, if not more, for vanquishing that which plagued them, and found their hero´s ragged form emotionally distressing.

Harry, however, was completely oblivious to the whispers and stares as he focused all his attention on his godfather, trying to communicate a vague sense of hope that before the day was done, he would once again be a free man. Sirius, on the other hand, had his eyes fixed intently on Harry in the attempt his godson might deduce from the stare exactly what he planned to do to Vernon and Petunia Dursley once this bloody trial was over and done with.

Then someone cleared their throat. No one moved. The person sighed and repeated the action, this time using a haughty annoyed tone for good measure and all the heads reluctantly tore themselves away from Harry to glare at whoever had been so rude as to call their collective attention away from their eavesdropping.

"Thank you," said a little, round man with little, round glasses and a little, round, balding head whose one remaining wisp of hair, against all odds, still contrived to be a cowlick. He was standing behind the podium, cleaning his glasses with the hem of his black cloak before proceeding to clear his throat once again to call the attention of any stragglers and reattaching his spectacles behind his ears, hence officially beginning the trial.

"This court is called to order on the trial of Sirius Black, convicted murderer and escaped fugitive. Minister Arthur Weasley presiding."

A small murmur of surprise rippled throughout the courtroom at the last statement. It seems no one had expected this particular revelation. A few wizards in the back grumbled with agitated aggravation. Molly Weasley smiled proudly while Ron winked and shot Harry a nervous grin, noticing his friend´s jaw had seemingly become unhinged with astonishment. Hermione just sat there, a blank look on her face, as if seeing Harry with black eyes and finding out that her best friend´s dad had just been made Minister was too much of a jolt for one day and the clash had thrown her body into a comatose trance.

Suddenly another door, separate form the one Sirius had been led through, burst open and Arthur entered the room in a wave of patched dark wool and loose parchment. He carried himself with a flustered dignity of an exhausted man doing his best to make a good first impression, holding his disheveled head high while he tripped over the hem of his tattered robes. Taking the place of the plump bailiff, who bowed graciously and slowly backed away, Arthur shuffled a stack of parchments, looked around the courtroom, then with an exasperated sigh, turned his attentions to the accused.

"Sirius Black, you have been charged with the murder of Peter Pettigrew, innocent Muggles and the betrayal of Lily and James Potter as well as evading capture and escape from Azkaban. How do you plead?" Arthur said in a voice Harry didn´t recognize. It was as if his words were attempting to take on an air of supercilious dignity after being pulled through the mud.

Sirius bit down on his lower lip. "Not guilty," he said in a hoarse whisper, making it very apparent that he still blamed himself for the deaths of Harry´s parents. There were several angry protests and one tenacious witch had the boldness to scream `Murderer!´ before things settled and the room was quiet again.

Arthur sighed and his expression softened. "Right then. First witness. Professor Severus Snape, would you please step up to the bench?"

Remus paled. Sirius and Snape were not exactly the best of friends. Ever since a practical joke gone horribly wrong had nearly cost Snape his life, the two shared no love for one another, and now Snape was being called to the stand to testify. There was no doubt as to which way this was going to go.

Snape brought himself to the bench, a smirk pulling on the corners of his mouth, long hooked nose and slightly pointed chin held high, casting a pointedly disdainful glance at Sirius before finally taking his seat. The portly bailiff scooted up besides him, holding a goblet of a rank smelling pink viscous liquid aloft, which Snape snatched from his sweaty hand and downed in one gulp. He didn´t even blink as the Veritaserum slithered down his throat and began to circulate with heated jolts of electricity through his bloodstream. The courtroom was eerily silent, as every wizard in the vicinity had pulled themselves to the edges of their seats in heated anticipation.

"Professor," Arthur started, once it was apparent by the way Snape´s body seemed to relax and cave in on itself that the truth serum had taken effect. "What is your relationship to the defendant?"

"I hate him," Snape replied simply.

"And when did you develop such an animosity toward Mr. Black?"

"We were in the same year at Hogwarts. He tried to kill me." Whatever colour was left in Remus´ cheeks suddenly flowed away, reappearing in Harry´s flushed face as he clenched his fist menacingly at his sides. Sirius looked as if he were bearing his fangs.

"Is this true?"

Sirius´ face fell and he turned a downcast glance to stare fixedly on a crack in the concrete floor. "It was a childish prank. It was never my intention to harm..."

"Intent or not, Black," Snape drawled viciously, "I was still nearly eaten."

Ignoring the outraged cries from the crowd, Sirius continued, looking absolutely poisonous with rage. "It was your fault for sticking your nose where it didn´t bloody well belong!"

"Order!" Arthur suddenly cut in, effectively silencing both the crowd and the juvenile bickering with the one command. Snape and Sirius continued glaring daggers at each other, animosity radiating from their lines of sight like toxic fumes. "Mr. Black, did you or did you not endanger, willfully or otherwise, the life of Professor Snape?" Sirius nodded solemnly, none of the anger or raw hatred dissipating from his stern features. In fact, it looked as if he were sorry he hadn´t done the job properly to begin with.

An elapsed silence filled the courtroom, then a tense whisper in the back swelled into a dissonant din, concluding with the now familiar audacious witch screeching the words `Filthy Murderer!´ in a harsh falsetto. The mob tensed and rippled, looking as if they were collectively going to rise up and converge upon their misunderstood prisoner like a swarm of hungry locusts.

Glancing around the room filled with people who wanted nothing more than to see him chained to a dungeon wall for the rest of eternity, Sirius suddenly found himself fervently praying to any god that would hear him out. A methodical, instinct driven man of action, he had simply never found the time for religion in the past. Even the darkest bowels of Azkaban, Sirius had turned to the rats and the inane ramblings of his cellmates for comfort. Now, however, feeling the overbearing presence of the crowd and watching as the normally amicable features of Arthur Weasley twisted into a frown before muttering "This is not looking good for you, Sirius," he found himself running pleadingly into the arms of the nearest deity. After all, there are no atheists when one´s faced with a riotous room full of raw hatred directed pointedly at themselves.

"SILENCIO!"

The entire room went deathly still. Arthur laid his slightly smoking wand on the podium with a deliberate narrow-eyed stare around the room. He cleared his throat loudly and steepled his fingers under his chin, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Thank you. Now, may I please continue?" The crowd´s eyes widened in mute awe and several wizards opened their mouths to speak. Arthur was shaking slightly with repressed laughter. A few haughty wizards looked mutinous.

"Finite Incantatum." He intoned then turned back to Snape in a hurried manner, suggesting he´d like to get this trial over and done with as soon as possible. "Now, Professor, when was the last time you were in contact with the defendant?"

"Two years ago," Snape said curtly, eyes still fixed pointedly on Sirius.

"Under what circumstances?"

"I was forced to work with him when we learned of the Dark Lord´s resurrection after the Triwizard Tournament."

"Am I to believe that both you and the defendant were involved in this fabled `Order´ the Ministry has heard so much about?"

"Yes, the Order of the Phoenix. A task assigned to us by Albus Dumbledore."

Arthur pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows. Very few people knew about the Order as Dumbledore had made it quite clear that every detail should be held with the strictest confidentiality. The Ministry was left completely in the dark, save for a few jealous Aurors - presumably ones that had been left out of the loop as well - and reports on whispered conversation and hearsay over the events that had transpired in the Forbidden Forest a little over a year ago. From what Arthur had gathered, a great deal of archaic magic had been used in combination with heavy wards and protection to keep its use away from the public eye. Following the event, a short article was published in the Daily Prophet that the magic had been used to call to heavenly beings or some such nonsense and the entire situation was gradually forgotten, laughed off as a silly attempt to gain more subscribers or a practical joke preformed by the local Hogwarts seventh years as a farewell prank.

"Why then, Professor," Arthur said slowly, emerging from his thoughts only to find himself drowning in questions, "is it that no one knows about this mission?"

"Because we failed," Snape said quietly. "We were able to debilitate the Dark Lord but we could not find a body. There is no proof that he´s dead at all. Dumbledore thought it best to keep the news out of public scrutiny," Snape paused, sighing deeply at his deplorable task of letting the whole wizarding world down, "He didn´t want to get anybody´s hopes up."

Arthur shrunk back into his seat as the whole courtroom seemed to silently moan with frustration and bitter agony. "Be that as it may," he started quietly in a wretched tone that echoed the prevalent mood, "am I to assume Mr. Black played a part in the attempted assassination of the Dark Lord?"

"He did." Snape blurted out before he had a chance to think.

"Thank you Professor, that is all. You may step down."

~~**~~

Hours had crawled by and court was still in session. The crowd had grown increasingly agitated with the parade of mixed testimonies they received from a variety of witnesses and casual acquaintances to the defendant. After Snape, Arabella Figg, who spoke of nothing but evil portents and upcoming catastrophe, testified, much to the dismay of the already unsettled crowd. Amos Diggory, who knew very little of Sirius Black, offered very little in the way of concrete evidence. Mad Eye Moody, who at first caused a great commotion in refusing to drink the Veritaserum, had to be forcibly led off the witness stand after his stirring testimonial on the fact that everybody, including Sirius and half the occupants of the courtroom, held a personal vendetta against him. Remus Lupin proved one of the only sources of useful information; however few people actually heard it because, as he had been seated next to Harry Potter, the crowds attention had been otherwise occupied by their Golden Boy.

Finally, Arthur gave up. "Harry, seeing as you are the centre of attention, would you please be so kind and come up to give your testimony."

Harry rose and made his way to the bench as gracefully as he could, trying in vain not the stumble under the scrutiny of every living being in the room. He felt as conspicuous as an orchid sprouting in a field of daisies, violently displaced within the jumbled emotions coursing through the air. Reaching the bench, Harry quickly gulped down the truth potion that was given to him, his gag reflex kicking into high gear as the steamy liquid pushed past his tonsils and coated his throat in a thick syrupy layer that settled uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.

"Hello Harry," Arthur offered as an uneasy greeting.

"Hello Mr. Weasley."

"How are you doing today, Harry?" Arthur said quietly, as if speaking to a cornered animal. "Would you like to start now?"

Harry rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. Apparently, Mrs. Weasley´s baby treatment of Harry, an endearing quirk that had become something of a joke among his Gryffindor classmates, was rubbing off on her husband. A little ways back Ron had buried his face in his hands to hide his embarrassment and Mrs. Weasley was torn between shooting Harry sympathetic motherly looks and reprimanding her son to sit up straight and behave. Hermione still looked stunned. In front of him, Sirius smiled slightly, although his eyes were dark with grief and tiny lines of worry were etched into his forehead. Arthur giggled despite himself and shook his head.

"Right, sorry, Harry. Let´s just get this over with, shall we?" Harry nodded frantically and Arthur continued. "What is your relationship to Sirius Black?"

"He´s my godfather." A few gasps emanated from the crowd.

"When did you first meet Mr. Black?"

"My third year at Hogwarts."

"The year he escaped from Azkaban?"

"Yes, but he wasn´t supposed to be there in the first place." The previous gasps that still hung in the air multiplied and were joined by a series of muted exclamations.

"And why not? After everything he was imprisoned for - murder, being in legion with the Dark Lord, the betrayal of your parents - why didn´t he deserve incarceration for his crimes?"

"He didn´t commit them," Harry said, rising off his seat as colour began to rush into his face. "He didn´t murder anybody, he was never on the side of Voldemort - " The entire courtroom tensed at the mention of the Dark Lord and Harry sunk back, looking as if he wished he could recall the word. After all, there was a reason why the evil menace had been known only as You Know Who. Names have power. Names give life. "He -" Harry continued softly, looking down at his chipped fingernails, "he broke out of prison to save me."

Looking up just in time to see a flash of silver stand out in stark contrast with the dreary grey, Harry only caught the tail end of Arthur´s next question.

"... from what? Who did commit all those crimes?"

"It was Peter Pettigrew," another surprised gasp issued from the crowd at the long dead, long forgotten name. "He´s an animagus. He was in hiding as a rat for all those years. That´s why Sirius had to escape, to save me from Pettigrew."

"Objection! Where´s the evidence? It could be a trick, the boy could be under a spell or lying to protect the accused!" a sharp icy howl cut through the murmured whispers of the crowd. Harry recognized it instantly. There was no mistaking the sharp angular features and immaculately groomed hair of Lucius Malfoy, standing as a streak of platinum in the back of the room, cheeks flushed with suppressed anger to match his scarlet silver trimmed velvet robes.

Startled, Arthur looked towards the voice and a veil of anger suddenly fell over his time worn features. There was no mistaking the fact that the long standing feud between the two men was still firmly in place as both looked at each other with nothing but raw hatred. "Mr. Malfoy, if you please!" he yelled, standing up in the picture of utmost superiority. Harry had never seen his best friend´s dad so imposing before, and apparently neither had Mr. Weasley himself. There was an awkward silence in which Arthur softened perceptibly, cleared his throat and regarded Harry with a sympathetic spark in his light blue eyes. "Harry, he does have a point. Is there any evidence to what you claim?"

Harry looked flustered, the panicked realization that he in fact could not back his claims with any concrete physical evidence twisted his face into a wide-eyed look of horror and confusion.

"Minister Weasley," cut in another voice, raising defiantly from some unknown corner of the cavernous room. Suddenly Albus Dumbledore stood, his long silver beard curling around his waist as the crowd, grown weary from the constant shock, made no reply and instead merely sat there with their mouths agape. "If you will take my testimony in the defense of these claims into account I will be happy to offer it. I am most willing to be administered the Veritaserum if you see it fit."

Bravely, the little round bailiff rose from his seat, steamy goblet of truth serum clutched proudly within his pudgy hand. Arthur suddenly sighed, causing the little man to stop dead in his tracks. "Please, that will not be necessary. Very little of the trial has proceeded according to protocol thus far, what is the point of starting now?"

The bailiff looked stricken and his thin lip quivered as he shot Arthur a pleading look. "But..."

The Minister dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "Show me a wizard among us that wouldn´t accept the testimony of Albus Dumbledore as fact." Arthur said, blatantly ignoring the poignant glare Lucius was throwing his way.

"You are too kind, Minister," Dumbledore smiled jovially, "But the fact is that young Mr. Potter speaks the truth. Peter Pettigrew was indeed the Potters´ secret keeper. It was him who betrayed us all, yet he walks free while Sirius Black stands trial for crimes he never committed. Mr. Black is no murderer, Arthur."

"Objection!" Lucius finally shouted. "The Headmaster´s opinion is not grounds for a true testimony. Where is your evidence, Professor?"

"Have you ever been to Azkaban, Mr. Malfoy?" The satisfaction Harry received from seeing Lucius turn translucent with fear made him smile, despite the seriousness of Dumbledore´s question. "Have you ever seen what happens to the guilty when they are locked away with nothing but Dementors for company? It is not a pleasant sight, Lucius. Men have gone mad with guilt, have found themselves so deeply entrenched within their own crimes that they no longer can string two words together to form coherent sentences or have retreated so far back into their own mind that they do not appeared human at all. Now, I ask you, does Sirius Black exhibit any of those characteristics?" Dumbledore paused and looked at the crowd. All around him, people were shaking their heads and muttering quietly in agreement with Dumbledore´s question. "His innocence, Mr. Malfoy, is what kept him sane. The Dementors may have taken all his happy thoughts, but wrongful imprisonment is not a pleasant idea."

The courtroom was deathly still, as if everyone were trapped in the void between shocked awe and dawning comprehension. Arthur blinked rapidly to clear his head and promptly remembered he still had a trial to conclude.

"Thank you, Professor and thank you too, Harry," he said, nodding kindly to each in turn then pausing to turn his attention to the jury. "It is time for your final verdict. If I could please see a show of hands indicating who among you believe Mr. Sirius Black to be guilty, therefore warranting a life sentence in Azkaban."

Suddenly the metaphorical stage manager of life had switched off the sound and cut to slow motion. Sirius felt a single drop of cold sweat gather on his neck and roll slowly down his back. Harry was breathing in quick ragged gasps that hung out in front of him before dissipating slowly into the stagnant atmosphere. Remus was swaying to and fro, his skin taking on the blanched colour of ash, looking as if he were about to faint. Then the switch was flicked back on as a single hand out of the twelve rose defiantly into the air and the sound of the Arthur Weasley announcing the verdict rang out in high definition surround sound.

"One of twelve is no grounds for conviction. Therefore Sirius Black, this court finds you not guilty."