The Trial
Hermione woke to the unsettling feeling of being watched. She opened her eyes, expecting to be nose-to-nose with a hungry Crookshanks ,and was shocked to find herself staring into the large, owl-like eyes of Kreature instead. She jumped back, then recovered quickly not wanting to hurt the elf’s feelings.
“Kreature! Um, good morning.” She pulled her blankets up, feeling unsure how to proceed. Kreature’s devotion to her left her feeling off balance, she had no desire to participate in the enslavement of elves, but at the same time, the situation they were in hardly left an alternative. Even if she could free him, it wasn’t what he wanted. She had settled for being as kind as possible, taking his help when offered as it seemed to make him happy. She was careful to not ask him for things; which seemed made him want to do more for her.
Sunlight streamed through the grimy window, illuminating a small table laden with a surprisingly delicious looking breakfast: poached eggs, toast soldiers, and a miniature pot of steaming tea coffee laid out on a silver tray and the Black family china. Beside it lay a long, flowing gown ,emerald green accented with black pearl buttons and black lace, the picture of Victorian elegance, and a set of pristine black dress robes. Kreacher, his usual angry expression replaced by one of nervous adoration, bobbed his head.
“Mistress Hermione,” he squeaked, his voice trembling slightly, “Ready for Court? Master Sirius needs you.” His eyes held a deep, almost painful affection.
Hermione, still groggy from sleep, stared at him, mouth agape. The luxurious breakfast, the elegant gown, Kreacher’s unusual demeanor – it was all utterly bizarre. Every day the elf surprised her with some new level of devotion, but dressing her? She also wondered at his newfound attitude to Sirius, whom he had always treated with disdain. There wasn’t time to mull over the complexities of their changing dynamic with the weight of today pressing in on her, so she filed it away for another time.
“Thank you, Kreacher,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “This is… unexpected.” She delicately picked up a piece of toast, her mind already running through the ordeal the day would bring. Which she would apparently meet dressed like Narcissa Malfoy. She and Anders had talked strategy and counter strategy at length. He was convinced that if the court was in any way fair and unbiased this would be open and shut. Their expectations of that happening, however were low. Anders expected them to at the very least try to re-imprison Sirius for escaping, which he had a plan to combat. They were as ready as they could be, but that didn’t help her frayed nerves.
As Hermione dressed in the emerald gown, she felt a heavy sense of foreboding mingled with the unexpected luxury. The fit was perfect, as if it had been made to her exact measurements and she wondered where Kreature had found it…and who this dress had belonged to before. The weight of the upcoming trial, the knowledge that Sirius’s life hung in the balance, felt like a lead weight in her gut. She tried three times to twist her unruly hair into a French knot with shaking hands before Kreature, who had been shuffling around her nervously, took her comb and she found herself seated and having her hair mercilessly done by the shockingly strong elf.
“Mistress is ready.” He croaked happily, and she had to admit as she stared at her reflection, he had done a better job than she could have.
“Thank you, Kreature.” She said warmly. Kreature’s wrinkled face pulled into a smile and he disappeared without further comment. She tucked her wand into her sleeve, straightened her shoulders and made her way downstairs.
Hermione heard the commotion in the kitchen well before reaching the door, and steeled her spine for what lay beyond.
“ABSOLUTLY NOT I FORBID IT!” Mrs. Weasley screeched.
“Mum, we’re of age-”
“You can’t-”
“I can! As long as you are in school it doesn’t matter if you’re of age. You will not be going and that’s final!”
Hermione took in the scene from the doorway. A stone-faced Sirius sat at the table, his hands wrapped around a full mug of coffee with an equally serious Lupin at his side. Both were dressed in elegant suits with embroidered waistcoats and dress robes. Harry sat nearby, a full breakfast untouched , in his green dress robes from the Yule ball. He had obviously gone to some length to tame his wild hair, slicking it back Draco Malfoy-style with a copious amount of gel. He stabbed at his eggs uncomfortably as Mrs. Weasley continued to yell at her sons. Fred and George; also in their Yule ball robes and crisp black suits were standing near the fire, looking mutinous.
“We want to support Hermione and Sirius!” Fred said in a reasonable tone.
“It’s the Ministry mum, it’ll be safe-” George said pleadingly.
“Absolutely not. It’s not safe and furthermore, there’s no reason for you to be there.” Mrs. Weasley crossed her arms and glared.
Hermione stood frozen in the doorway, the scene making her question venturing further into the kitchen.
“Listen to your mother, boys.” Arthur Weasley said wearily from the table.
“We have every reason-”
“Sirius is our friend!”
“And Hermione and Harry-”
“I SAID NO!” She screeched. “And Harry, you heard what Dumbledore said, I really think you shouldn’t-”
“Enough, Molly.” Sirius said in a tired voice from the table, his eyes still on his mug. “Boys, your mum is right. People would talk if you went to a trial out of the blue. Officially you don’t know me. It’s ok. ”
Molly looked triumphant, until Sirius continued. “Harry isn’t under Dumbledore’s charge or yours. He is my Godson, and I’m letting him choose.”
“I’m going.” Harry said mulishly, pushing back from the table. Molly’s mouth opened and closed several times, but couldn’t seem to form an argument.
The twins turned to leave the kitchen, stomping angrily, but stopped short at seeing Hermione in the doorway.
“Blimey.” Fred gasped, the anger melting from his face.
“You look-” George began, mirroring his brother’s wide eyed gape.
Everyone turned, and Hermione flushed at the attention being centered on her. Ron looked up from his breakfast and scowled, Harry gaped, Sirius and Lupin looked amused, and Molly angry.
“Er, uh…Kreature insisted- is it too much?” She asked softly, smoothing the front of her dress down.
“Fear not, fair maiden.” Fred said with a posh accent, taking her hand and twirling her around. “You’ll be the belle of the ball.”
“Ensnaring the hearts of poor unsuspecting wizards with your grace and beauty.” George said with a similar haughty tone, and a stiff bow.
Hermione laughed and felt some of the tension in the room dissolve with their silly banter. She could see the real compliment in their eyes, the way they lingered on the dress, and felt their unspoken approval.
“Kreature brought it for you, you said?” Sirius asked.
“Yes, with breakfast and all.”
“He’s quite taken with you. Haven't seen him this devoted since…” Sirius trailed off, looking back down into his mug.
“We’d better get going.” Lupin said gently, laying his hand on Sirius’s back. Hermione caught Molly’s sharp frown at the gesture and arched a brow. The last few weeks had seen a tentative truce between her and the Weasley matriarch, but that didn’t mean Hermione had forgiven or forgotten. Sirius picked up his mug and downed the contents quickly. His features began to bubble and contort, long black hair shooting into his skull and lightening to a dirty blonde, as his frame bulked and shifted, until sitting in his place was an unfamiliar man with stone grey eyes and a short blonde beard.
“Ander’s assistant from America.” He said in answer to Hermione’s unspoken question.
“Oh yes. We discussed that.” She said, wondering how she could have forgotten that detail. They were disguising Sirius to avoid reporters and a possible detainment before the courtroom. It was a risk, but then, so was everything else they were undertaking today.
The small group met Anders at his bed & breakfast and traveled by Floo to the Ministry, where they found the foyer packed with witches and wizards. There were reporters, flashing cameras, and crowds clustered together with handmade signs and banners touting slogans like “Free Sirius Black” or “Lock up the Murderer”. It was impossible to tell if one group was better represented than another as they pushed through the throng. Anders handled the crowd with businesslike proficiency, grabbing Hermione’s elbow and steering her as he pushed past reporters with curt statements of “No comment, no comment at this time”.
Before she knew it they were walking into the massive underground courtroom. It was a vast circular chamber, with rows of bench seats rising high above a recessed stage in the middle, which currently occupied a single chair. Stone walls illuminated with torches cast dim shadows across the grim faces of the assembled Wizengamont. They sat grouped together, the fifty of them looming over the stage in their plum-colored robes emblazoned with silver W’s across their chests. In the center of the front row sat Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. Hermione noted today he had dispensed with the lime-green bowler hat he fancied, gone to was the simpering smile he reserved for Harry. A stout, square jawed witch with short gray hair and a severe frown sat beside him, her monocle winking in the torchlight. On his other side sat a short, rather wide woman wearing her plum robes over an ugly pink dress of pink tweed, her wide mouth and bulging eyes giving her a rather toad-like air. The rest of the Wizengamont sat in the shadows, making their expressions unreadable.
Hermione took her seat near Anders, just behind the defense bench, with Sirius (as his “assistant”) sat beside him. Harry and Lupin had melted into the crowd, by design, and were seated somewhere behind them with the other onlookers.
Fudge adjusted his spectacles, the polished lenses reflecting the anxious faces gathered in the Ministry courtroom.
“Well.” Fudge cleared his throat and shuffled his papers. “Everyone but the accused appears to be present, so we will proceed. Since Mr. Black couldn’t even be bothered to come to his own trial, his conviction will stand-”
Anders cleared his throat and stood up, adjusting his pressed suit.
“Pardon, Minister. Sirius Black is right here, as you can clearly see.” He gestured to his right, where the blonde assistant had indeed melted into the raven-haired accused. Sirius had a faint smirk on his handsome face, as he met the Minister’s shocked glare. Gone was the gaunt and skeletal man the Minister had seen in Azkaban, in his place sat Sirius as he was born to appear, resplendent in his suit and dress robes, his beard neat, his curling black hair glossy, emanating power and confidence. Fudge fumbled, taken aback.
“Guards!” He hollered, and red robed wizards rushed the courtroom.
“Hold.” Anders said firmly, raising his hands. “You asked Sirius Black to appear in his own defense, yes? Here he is, calmly submitting to your request. There is no need for violence. Remember, Minister, the world is watching.” Anders gestured to the gallery, filled with reporters furiously snapping pictures and witnesses. Hermione smirked. She was certain Fudge had allowed the public trial to prove Sirius Black would not come, that this was all for naught.
“They will be on the ready.” Fudge snarled, gesturing for the guards to hold position nearby. “On to the matter then, we are here, today on August the twelfth, to hear the case brought forth by Anders Lawson, of America, regarding the pardon of one Sirius Black, convicted thirteen years ago of the murder of Peter Pettigrew and twelve muggles. Perkins, are you ready?”
“Yes sir!” An eager voice Hermione recognized as Ron’s wayward brother Percy. He sat in the front row, parchment and quill at the ready. Hermione sneered at him, though he wasn’t looking at her. She couldn’t believe she had once looked up to Percy, thinking him a prime example of a student. Prefect, head boy, overachieving…she had seen him as being quite a bit like herself. She thought with a shudder of the “self” she could have allowed herself to be, so caught in rules and ambition he had lost sight of not just his family but morality itself. Fucking Nonce. She thought viciously.
“Very well, since the accused is present, let us proceed. Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic, Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister; Court Scribe, Perkins Ignatius Weasley. Witness for the defense-” Fudge paused, looking around in an exaggerated way. “Just yourself then, Mr. Black?”
Anders and Sirius exchanged a look, and Sirius spoke firmly.
“I will speak to my defense with my Lawyer, and I am willing to submit my memories and testify under the influence of Veritiserum, should the court request it.” He said in a loud, clear voice. Gasps and mutters filled the courtroom, growing louder until a red face Fudge slammed his hand on the table before him and called for silence.
“Very well, Mr. Black, we will proceed with questioning-”
“Hem-hem.” The toad-faced woman beside the Minister cleared her throat in a breathy, exaggerated way and leaned over to whisper something to Fudge. “Ah, yes. Yes.” He smiled, a rather wolf-like expression. “The court requests the testimony of a Miss Hermione Granger. Is Miss Granger present today?”
Murmurs raced through the crowd again as Fudge made rather a show of looking for her in the assembled wizards. Hermione stilled her shaking hands and stood, revealing her position.
“I am, Minister.” She called out. Fudge appeared momentarily taken aback, then nodded.
“We will hear Miss Granger’s testimony today as well.” He said victoriously, the statement directed to Percy as the scribe's quill raced frantically across the parchment. “Now, let us proceed.” He lifted a piece of parchment from the stack before him and began to read. “The charges against the accused are as follows. That on October the 31st, 1981, he conspired with He-who-must-not-be-named to murder Lillian and James Potter, along with their son Harry James Potter. That he did willfully and knowingly hunt his former classmate, Peter Pettigrew, and using a spell of great violence kill Mr. Pettigrew after an altercation on Church street , along with twelve muggle bystanders. That he did willfully and knowingly escape his imprisonment at Azkaban. These are the charges, what is the defense’s response?”
“Not guilty, on all counts, Minister. I would like to submit to the court that Sirius Black, having been imprisoned for thirteen years without a trial be immediately pardoned of the charges against him. The Ministry has waited fourteen years to speak these charges, and I posit there is no proof any of these crimes were committed by Mr. Black.”
Hermione thought the murmuring sounded rather like a hornet’s nest, the buzzing around her reaching a furious level before Fudge’s pudgy hand slammed the table once more.
“I will not be rushed, Mr. Anders. A swift pardon for a convicted mass murderer? Preposterous! Sirius Black will face a proper trial, one that will leave no room for doubt. And,” he added, a mischievous glint appearing in his eye, “there are certain… irregularities… that need addressing.”
He gestured dramatically towards Hermione, who met his gaze without flinching.
"Ms. Granger," Fudge boomed, his voice echoing through the crowded hall, "will you kindly explain your… association… with Mr. Lawrence? It has come to my attention that you, a minor, were responsible for hiring this… expensive… representative for Mr. Black. I find this highly irregular, especially considering your… close friendship with Mr. Black’s godson, Harry Potter." The implication hung heavy in the air: something nefarious was going on, and she was the center of it. Fudge continued, pressing relentlessly, "And tell the court, Miss Granger, the nature of your relationship with Mr. Black himself. Is it purely platonic? Perhaps, given his past…reputation…Mr. Black has influenced you into supporting him in this wild bid for freedom?” A murmur rippled through the courtroom, a mixture of shock and morbid fascination.
Hermione held her ground. It wasn’t the first time in her young life she had been cast as the scarlet woman, and she was beginning to suspect it would not be the last in this sexist, backwards society.
"Minister," she said, her voice clear and strong, despite the tremor in her hands, "I hired Mr. Anders because he was the best lawyer available. Having researched the case, and finding Mr. Black was denied a trial and imprisoned without evidence, testimony or conviction, I found the lack of justice abhorrent. Our society prides itself on being based on law and order, some of our brethren even convinced we are far more advanced than muggle society. Yet even muggles have protections against imprisonment without conviction, and are innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. Mr. Black deserved a fair trial, and I, as a friend of Harry, his Godson, believed he was owed that. How can any wizard or witch feel safe and protected by our Ministry if they can be arrested and imprisoned without even a chance to speak to their own defense? Especially in a society like ours, where finding the truth of a matter can be as simple as a spell or a potion to get to the heart of the matter? My relationship with Mr. Black is confined to discussions about his defense with Mr. Lawrence. The Minister’s insinuations are not only unfounded but actively undermine the integrity of this trial."
Fudge’s face tightened, his attempt to discredit Black through her having backfired spectacularly. He cleared his throat, the gleam of triumph in his eyes replaced by a flicker of uncertainty.
Hermione stood firm as cameras flashed, knowing she would be in the papers again tomorrow. At least I’ll look nice, not like a drowned rat this time. She thought wryly, remembering the photograph of her wrapped in a blanket after being pulled from the lake. Anders turned and gave her a quick wink, and she relaxed slightly. This wasn’t going poorly…yet.
“So you deny having a personal connection to Mr. Black? You deny colluding with a criminal rather than turn him in to the proper authorities?”
“When the authority in question is responsible for the unlawful detainment of a titled Lord, who does one go to for justice? Are we, as citizens expected to submit to unjust laws at the expense of our freedom?”
“You will be careful addressing this court, Miss Granger!” Fudge barked.
“In muggle society, in the 1950’s a man rose to power. He made it illegal for a religion to be practiced, and all members of that religion were placed in internment camps and killed. As this man was the leader, this was considered law, and attempts to help these innocent victims was considered illegal. Are we expected to follow the law blindly, Minister, ignoring injustice and allowing the innocent to suffer, as they did in Germany all those years ago?”
“We are not discussing Muggles, Miss Granger-”
“I have colluded with no criminals, Minister. I am but a teenager, hoping that the world I was welcomed into at the age of eleven is a just and fair one, built on laws that truly mean something.”
“And what does a girl your age know of the law?” Susan Bones spoke up from beside the Minister.
“What I have read. I know that according to the Pure-blood Protection Doctrine of 1628, Lords of the Sacred 28 are to be taken immediately to the nearest Wizarding hospital for treatment should they act in a way uncommon to their nature, regardless of crimes committed, Section 2, paragraph 5 , Article c. I know that said Lords are to be given the option for House Arrest pending an expeditious trial with proper representation for any crime deemed worthy of the court’s time, Article e, paragraph 7. I know they are presumed innocent, and the evidence against them must be absolute and come from no less than three sources, verified, as applicable, with Veritiserum, priori incantatem, and legitemens, Article F, Paragraph 3. I know that according to the Wizard Rights and Protections policy of 1923, all Wizards and Witches are presumed innocent until proven guilty by the Wizengamont. A trial shall take place no more than one month from the time of the accused’s arrest, and such detainment- if they are not given house arrest- shall take place in the Ministry holding cells in the Department of Justice. Prisoners are- according to the law, although this was not the case for Sirius Black- only taken to Azkaban, marked and given to the Dementors after said conviction. Would you like me to continue, I can cite those sources as well if you like, but I’m quite sure you know the law better than I.” She said all this sweetly, as Fudge’s face darkened and he seemed to sink into his seat.
“You are, 15, Miss Granger?” Susan Bones asked incredulously.
“Almost 16, yes.”
“And you…researched this yourself? Or were you given this information?”
“I researched this myself, Madam. I have been studying the law since I was thirteen.”
“Impressive.” Madam Bones said looking down at her as she adjusted her monocle. Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamont were whispering to each other, some nodding, some shaking their heads. “To correctly cite the law at such a young age…I’ve known many lawyers who are not as well versed as you seem to be, young lady.”
Hermione gave her a small smile.
“Yes, yes, I’m sure Miss Granger has rehearsed this story very well for the court to clear herself of any implication, much like her friend Harry she is must be rather fond of the media attention from her wild tales.” Fudge said nastily, drawing the attention back to himself. “Where did you get the funds to hire Mr. Lawrence, Miss Granger?”
Anders stood, blocking her from view. “I can answer that, Minister. I have accepted no funds from Miss Granger for my appearance. I am here simply to right and injustice done to my fellow Wizard, and fight for his freedom.”
Anders adjusted his jacket again, coming around the table and placing his hands behind his back.
“If the Wizengamont would like to continue this trial, I would know the evidence against my client. What proof do you have that any of the crimes he has been accused of have been committed? Ms. Bones, you are the head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement?”
“Yes, I am.” She replied curtly.
“Then what is the evidence against my client? It is my understanding that until that night, the 31st of October, 1981, my client Sirius Black was not simply a titled Lord, but also an Auror in your department?”
“He did not work under me, but my predecessor Bartimus Crouch.” She shifted in her seat.
“I see. Tell me, Ms. Bones, if an Auror under your supervision was accused of a crime, would you ensure they receive a fair trail?”
“Of course!” She bristled at the implication, then glanced down at her papers and paled.
“So then, what evidence was so damning it resulted in one of the Ministry’s own Aurors being thrown into a cell in Azkaban without so much as a hearing?”
“Well, you see…he was…” Susan Bones looked helplessly over to Fudge, then back to Anders. “Found at the scene. Erm, muggle witnesses claimed they saw him cast a spell that resulted in mass death.”
“Muggle witnesses.” Anders turned, casting his eyes to the audience , then back to the Wizengamont. “And Mr. Black, what did he have to say?”
“He was…unresponsive. Er, quite mad.” She swallowed. “The report states Bartimus Crouch ordered him to be taken straight to Azkaban. That’s…that’s all that’s here.” She looked over to Fudge, who snatched the file from her hands and looked at it, then back up to Anders.
“Unable to speak to his own defense? What about his wand, was it not checked? Does the department not employ legitimens? Why was he not taken for medical treatment? You claim he was a supporter of he-who-must-not-be-named, so where is his dark mark? The only witnesses unreliable muggles who witnesses a confrontation between two wizards, one an Auror attempting to apprehend a suspect, and for this a man lost thirteen years of his life?” Anders’s voice echoed in the great hall, which had gone deathly silent.
“But everyone knew Black was guilty. Look at his family, full of Dark wizards!” Dolores Umbridge piped up in a breathy, girlish voice.
“A person’s family is not proof of guilt, Ms. Umbridge. Without further evidence, I now request again the court dismiss this case with an apology for Mr. Black. A terrible miscarriage of justice has occurred her, and this must be made right.”
“We haven’t heard from Black what he was doing that night! And what about escaping from prison?” Fudge said mulishly.
“An escape to find help and justice!” Anders roared, slamming his palms on his table. “A prisoner with no contact to the outside world, starved and oppressed with monsters who can steal your very soul! In America this kind of treatment to your fellow wizard is called a crime against humanity! Is it the dark ages in England, that you have such barbaric views on the treatment of criminals? Are they not humans, are they not your fellow man? How dare you speak of his escape when his very imprisonment is a crime itself!” Anders rage was palatable, and Hermione could almost feel it sweeping the courtroom, triggering a chain reaction as people’s eyes were opened to the true nature of their own system of justice. Hermione hoped this would cause a chain reaction, that Sirius would not be the end of prison reform but rather the beginning, ushering in a new era of true justice.
Fudge paled and though his mouth opened and closed several times no sound escaped it.
“His testimony?” Dolores Umbridge asked in her simpering voice.
Sirius and Anders exchanged another look and Sirius stood, facing the Wizengamont.
“That night, was the worst of my life. That’s saying something, because I’ve had plenty of bad ones. For those old enough, remember what those days were like. Living in fear. Death Eaters roaming the streets, fearing coming home to find the doors open and the Dark Mark looming over it. I was on patrol. We were called to a disturbance near Ipswich, a false alarm when a Patronus came from my supervisor, Alister Moody. The Potter’s home had been found by he-who-must-not-be-named, and only baby Harry had survived. I…couldn’t process it. Couldn’t believe the news until I reached the cottage and saw the ruin for myself. I saw my friend Hagrid, he was taking Harry somewhere. I asked for him, as his Godfather it was my duty to care for him, with his…” Sirius swallowed, blinking back tears. “With his parents gone. James was more than a friend to me. His parents took me in when my own cast me out. From the moment we met on the train at eleven he was my brother. And he was gone. And Lilly. But Hagrid wouldn’t, said he had been told to keep Harry safe, and take him to his Aunt. I figured I’d collect him later, I needed to-the house had been under the Fidious charm. The secret keeper was another friend of ours, Peter Pettigrew. I went to find Peter, to ask him how, why, did he do this? Did he give up our friends, or was he dead too?” Sirius choked, cleared his throat and took a deep shuddering breath before continuing. “ I found him, but it was a nightmare come to life. Peter had betrayed them, and he was proud. Proud to serve his Dark Lord, proud to cause the death of our friends. I raised my wand, in my heart, intent to bring him to justice but he was faster. In a flash the street had exploded, and Peter was gone, transfigured into a rat . He was an Animagus, you see. After that, I don’t remember anything until I woke up in a cell.”
Hermione heard sniffles and whispers behind her, and felt a thrill of triumph. Sirius had reached them.
Fudge called order again, and cast his eyes around the room. After exchanging a whisper with the women on either side of him, he sighed heavily and called on the Wizengamont to vote.
“By a show of hands, those in favor of clearing the accused, Sirius Black, of all charges?” Madam Bone’s voice boomed out.
Hermione did a quick count, her eyes racing from hand to hand in the Wizengamont Gallery. Five, Twenty-six, Forty-seven. Forty Seven! She looked around, nearly frantic, seeking Harry’s face in the crowd. She saw him counting as well, a desperate hope on his face as he clutched the front of his robes. She looked at Sirius, Ander’s had his hand on his back, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed.
“And those in favor of Conviction?” Fudge raised his hand, as did the toad-woman, Dolores Umbridge. Another wizard near the back raised his hand as well, rather shyly.
Fudge glanced around him, lowering his hand and swallowing several times. He straightened his shouldered and took a deep breath before choking out,
“Very well. Sirius Black… is cleared of all charges.”