Subpoena

The chamber had settled. Arrangements for each Wizengamot member had been made through the next month; all witnesses had been summoned and seated (with the understanding, of course, that they would be allowed to leave as soon as they gave their testimony)

 The Granger name was quickly becoming a household one. At Hogwarts she’d fallen on the public’s ears as the golden trio’s scarlet girl (no doubt thanks to a certain Rita Skeeter) but now Hermione was becoming an entity all her own. Already The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler had been raving about the groundwork MMLR (Ministry’s Magical Law Review) had laid; once the press had caught wind of the Black trial and the role Hermione was having in orchestrating it with a new piece of magic, they’d gone wild. 

A deep groan echoed- it’s source, a platform slowly raising from the center of the chamber floor. Two stone basins were molded from the platform, as though they had been carved from the same slab. The first was pensive, the latter a cauldron. 

Three cloaked figures walked from their seats at the foot of the minister and up the steps of the platform. Sirius recognized the man who stood in the middle from his own time at Hogwarts- Horace Slughorn had been elected as lead brewer for the trial. His former potions professor tugged his sleeves back theatrically and raised his wand. From thin air, a great table appeared to the right of the cauldron. Glass bottles of various sizes were conjured to the table one at a time, Slughorn inspecting and announcing their contents as they appeared. His counterparts- a short Korean man as bald and as old as Horace; and a towering Columbian woman who had cut her dark hair in a way that made it stick out in all directions-confirming the identity of the ingredients in order. At the end of the inspection the three sat along the table, hands folded neatly in front of them. 

“That’s our cue,” said Draco darkly, standing and walking formally to the opposite end of the courtroom. Hermione moved to join him, but her wrist was caught by Sirius. His grey eyes were cloudy and he scrunched his nose, attempting to clear his thoughts. 

“Hermione, I-“

“Don’t worry, Mister Black,” Hermione said loudly, removing his hand from her arm. “Everything is going to be alright.”  She said it without emotion. Sirius could only swallow his words. He nodded once and she turned from him, refusing to meet his gaze as she stepped into her place for the trial.

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Draco and Hermione stood on opposite ends of the courtroom, wands drawn to their faces. Their expressions were grave- if one walked into the room they would most likely assume the two were about to duel. A match I’d give good gallons to see, Harry chuckled to himself. 

It had taken a fair amount of persuasion for Headmistress McGonagall to allow both her Defense Against the Dark Arts professors a leave of absence for the trial. Draco had made arrangements for Lupin to testify first- in order to get back to both his position at Hogwarts and his son as quickly as possible- but even still, no one knew exactly how long the witnesses would be gone for. This made Ginny particularly cross (Do you realize how much happens in a month Harry? I could be done for the season in a second and you wouldn’t have the foggiest!) Time stopping was an experimental magic at best- trapping time and forcing it to align with one’s will was absolutely unprecedented.

Now to make sure that magic would work.

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Hermione inhaled deeply, closing her eyes to clear her mind. Mastering time was not something one could simply do at the drop of the hat. It required focus, precision, a touch of legitimency. And, of course, the opportunity to sneak sand out of one's government issued time-turner and study it in secret for eight years.

Hermione reached for Draco’s mind with her own. She found it- a familiar chill welcoming her, like the cold side of one’s pillow on a summer night. Draco’s thoughts began to trickle into her mind. He was far more skilled in this trade than she, having been taught by his mother from a very young age. He was well in control of his bearings, something Hermione was thankful for; it made their communication much easier than if they had both been amateurs.

“You ready Granger?” Draco’s voice was soft, much more gentle in her mind than how he’d sounded aloud earlier in the day.

“As ready as you can be when the world is watching your life’s work.” She replied, surprised at the tremble of nervousness in her subconscious. She thought she felt a chuckle nudge her mind, but shrugged it off.  

They exhaled simultaneously, their breath calling a faint golden wisp to appear both in their mind’s eye and from the ends of their wands. The crowd around them gasped at the sight.

“Block them out. We need total focus for this to work.” Instructed Hermione.

“Really? Hadn’t realized.” Draco retorted, his voice quivering with the strain of the magic they were creating. 

The golden wisps from their wands began to change to blue as it flowed from the tips and through the courtroom. In sudden, perfect tandem Hermione and Draco sliced their wands diagonally, continuing the motion in an upwards curve to point to the vaulted marble ceiling.

“Prohibere tempus!”

Blue and gold streams of sand spiraled to weave a dome around the chamber. When the magic rested and the dome became transparent, all stood still. 

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10:47 am in the Wizengamot chamber

November 3rd in the real world

“Mister Lupin, you claim to have known the defendant for quite some time.” Zabini’s sultry voice had a unique way of captivating an audience- certainly different than Draco’s had. Every member of the chamber was leaning forward and breathing heavily, some quite literally teetering on the edge of their seat. 

“Yes.”

“Would you care to explain the nature of your relationship?”

Remus Lupin bit down on his chapped bottom lip, holding back a scoff. He sat before a panel of peer interrogatories; Kallista Zabini and Kingsley Shacklebolt were both within two years of his own at Hogwarts. He regained his composure before answering.

“Mister Black was my first childhood friend. He introduced me to several of our peers and we spent a significant amount of time with one another while attending Hogwarts.”

“And after Hogwarts?”

Lupin chewed his lip once more, though this time from hesitation.

“He became an auror and was partnered with James Potter. I...looked for work elsewhere.”

“What work did you find?”

“A little of this, a little of that.”

“Answer the question,” Cracknell huffed from his seat beside the Minister. The greying wizard sighed and adjusted in his chair. 

“Mostly muggle bar tending. Seasonal librarian in Falmouth-their normal witch had a baby if I remember correctly. And one stint as a bike courier.”

“I imagine it was difficult to keep in touch with your school friends with such an...unreliable schedule.”

Before Remus could respond he was cut off by Draco.

“Objection, Undersecretary Zabini, leading the witness.” 

“Allow me to rephrase then, Mister Malfoy. How regular was your contact with Mister Potter and Mister Black?”

Remus’ eyes flickered to Sirius. He’d been staring, Remus realized, but Sirius did not look away in embarrassment at being caught. Instead, the grey eyes that met Lupin’s blue were earnest, desperately attempting to convey nineteen years of emotion. Nineteen years of bitterness. Nineteen years of apologies.

Remus tore away from him and turned his attention back to the witch.

“It was less than it should have been.” 

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11:29 am in the Wizengamot Chamber

November 8th in the real world

Harry fidgeted in his seat, placing his clammy palms firmly on either side of the chair. The vertiserium brewing on the platform behind him bubbled happily; it had to be a fourth of the way done by now. Lupin had finished his testimony and was excused what had seemed like ages ago, but according to the clock on the wall could only be within the hour. Harry was eager to join him; the last time he had sat in this chair he’d nearly been expelled from Hogwarts. 

“It is my understanding you are the financial backer of this case, Mister Potter. Is that correct?” Kingsley’s smooth voice filled the chamber. It was not intimidating, and not just because Harry had worked with the man before. Shacklebolt put everyone around him at ease with his presence: that was part of what made him such a good politician. 

“Yes Sir.”

“Why did you choose to finance Mister Black’s release and legal fees?”

Harry swallowed hard, pushing his crooked glasses up with his index finger. 

“Well, it started when I was telling Prof- er, Mister Lupin about some of the events that happened at Malfoy Manor- during the war.” Harry clarified, “And we realized that somewhere along the line, things had been miscalculated and somehow, Sirius had to be innocent.”

“What made you so sure of this?”

“We were taken captive. Ron- Ronald Weasley- and I were brought to the cellar. They had been using it as a prison. I recognized the guard, but couldn’t quite place him, as I’d only met him once before.”

“When was that, Mister Potter?”

“Sorry?”

“When had you met the guard before?”

“On the night of Voldemort’s return, sir. In the graveyard where he was resurrected.” 

Whispers shot through the room once more- even Sirius was impressed. It was convenient, he thought bitterly, that it was Harry who had run into the rat. Any mention of his accounts with Voldemort was interpreted as insider information; the Wizengamot lapped up details like greedy hogs. After a moment the whispers subsided, and Harry continued. 

“The man who guarded us was supposed to have been dead, although I didn’t know it until I talked with Lupin after the fact.”

“And who was that man?”

“Peter Pettigrew, sir.” 

The whispers from before were now a roar. Kingsley sat back in his chair, making no attempt to calm the congregation. Zabini turned her head to mumble into his ear. He paused to listen, stroking one large hand on his chin. 

“Mister Potter, Mister Pettigrews survival cannot be proven, I assume.” Shacklebolt said at length, “unless the defense has him trapped in their bag of tricks as well.”

To Sirius’ surprise, this statement earned a smirk from Ron and Harry, while a deep shade of red flushed over Hermione’s cheeks and brow. He made a mental note to ask about that later.

“We do not, Minister,” Draco said, striding from his seat beside Sirius to stand next to Harry. “However, we do have a way to prove he was at Malfoy Manor as Mister Potter claims.”

“Get on with it son,” Cracknell gruffed from his seat. Draco dipped his head and climbed the stairs to the top of the platform. Careful to avoid the cauldron and potioneers, he drew his wand and tapped the stone pensive once. 

“I call Misters Weasley and Potter, Miss Granger, and myself to the stand.”

The trio adhered to the call, striding to Malfoy’s side. They each placed their wands to their temple, pulling a silvery strand from their heads and dropping it into the pensive.

“We’re combining our memories, Minister, for the truth.”

“Another bit of Granger magic, I gather?”

“Yes. If our claims are true, each of our memories of the Malfoy Manor will align with the others.”

Sirius’ eyes shot to Hermione. She had clenched the edge of the pensive with her fists, jaw set

and eyes glossed over. Under her robes her chest rose and fell rapidly. And suddenly, without warning or another piece of information, Sirius understood. The look on Hermione's face made him realize what had really happened at Malfoy Manor- what had taken place beyond the scarred slur on her forearm. 

And Sirius had to stop her from reliving it in front of the entire wizarding world. 

He stood to object, to cry out, to take her hand and free her from the chamber even if it meant his own dammination. 

It was with a sharp glance from his representative he stopped. Hermione had agreed to this long ago.

 It was time to return to Malfoy Manor.

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