Subpoena

12:17 pm in the Wizengamot chamber

November 13th in the real world

The golden quartet stood in the center of the room, hovering over the pensive while the cauldron simmered silently behind them.  At first, there was nothing.  Not so much as a breath fluttered through the chamber.  Suddenly, grey figures emerged from the basin, flew through the air, and settled throughout the room. A haze filled the space and distorted shapes took a more solid form- trees, bushes, and most importantly: a group of men with a firm hold on struggling teenagers. 

The scene before him wasn’t quite black and white, Sirius realized, but the colors were muted, just a bit off.  It reminded him of how his vision was altered while in his animagus form. He scanned the room again to catch a glimpse of Hermione’s reaction, but the present Hermione was nowhere to be found.  All Sirius could see- all anyone could see, he realized- were the memories being presented before him now.  

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The Forest of Dean 

Harry’s Memory

“Slytherin huh? That’s what everyone thinks we want to hear, but none o’ em can tell us where the common room is at.” Said the balding snatcher, putrid breath hitting Harry’s swollen face.

“In the dungeons- under the lake.” Harry said through his stinging lips.

The five men murmured in surprise. The balding snatcher who had a hold of Harry’s collar only tightened his grip. 

“Whatchu say yer name was then?”

“Vernon. Vernon Dudley.”

“I think there’s a Dudley in the Department of Mysteries,” said another snatcher- a short, sneering man with yellow teeth and a scar on his chin.

Harry’s heart leapt. Could they be so lucky? He kept his gaze downwards and tangled hair in front of his eyes.

“And you missy?”

“Penelope Clearwater. Half-blood.” Hermione’s words were clear, but her voice trembled just enough to give the snatcher pause. It was her quick thinking that had given Harry a last minute disguise, even if it had been through a stinging jinx directly to his face. 

“‘Ang on, there ain’t no Dudley on this list,” the yellow-toothed snatcher said, thumbing through a worn brown pocketbook. 

“‘An I’ve seen missies pit’ure in da paper before,” the balding man added. 

Greyback paused midstep, jutting his chin and inhaling deeply as he pivoted back towards the trio. He placed a single dirty finger on Harry’s swollen face, brushing his bangs back ever so gently. And there it was. Though stretched and swollen there was no denying the scar on Harry Potter’s forehead. Greyback turned his attention to Hermione, grabbing her jaw tightly and baring his teeth. 

“Change of plan, men. We ain’t taking this lot to the ministry.”

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The air swirled around Sirius, jumbled off-color faces dancing past his own.  Through the chaos, he caught a glimpse of Hermione. Someone had conjured chairs up next to the pensive; she was seated between Harry and Draco.  Her face was stoney, brown eyes wide.  Before the memory settled, Sirius realized her breathing hadn’t changed from before.

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The Malfoy Manor

Draco’s Memory 

Draco straightened the collar of his white shirt and shot a glance at his bedroom mirror. He frowned. The glass was smudged. Absentmindedly, he brushed his left forearm over his sleeve and flinched. The smallest touch of the mark sent a piercing cold through his entire being. It made his bruised ribs-which he had been tending to- ache all the more. He set them painfully with a wave of his wand, and finished buttoning up his shirt. There was a rap at the door. 

“Enter.”

A woman stepped in-silvery blonde and just as willowy as her son. She reached for him, her lips clenched in a tight line.

“Mother, what is it?” Draco said, straightening his back and walking to grab her hand. 

“Bella thinks they’ve found him, love.”

“Found who?”

“Potter.” 

Draco swallowed, emerald eyes wide. He inhaled sharply. If they had found Potter, the Dark Lord would be summoned. Draco’s ribs sent a searing pain through him once more. 

“But they...darling, she isn’t sure. We need you to come take a look.” 

“What for? How can they not be positive it’s Potter?”

“He’s walked into something, a curse possibly, and we don’t want to waste the Dark Lord’s time. You know he’ll be very angry…” Narcissa cradled her son’s face for a moment before dropping her hand rather suddenly. 

Draco studied his mother. Her once beautiful hair had become brittle, her cheeks hollow. Shadows appeared on her face, replacing the little color she’d once had. At her temple a recent cut was scabbing over. As if someone had taken a knife and pressed it to her skull.

Draco moved to touch the injury.

“Mama, What-“ but his mother shooed his hand away before he could touch it. 

There was a rap at his door.

“Enter,” Draco and Narcissia spoke at the same time.

A horribly sour looking man stepped into Draco’s bedroom.  His hair was patchy and mousey in color.  His nose turned up, his teeth were bucked and yellowed, and his cheeks were overly puffy for a  man as aged as himself.  

“They’ve arrived, ma’am,” the man said in a squeaky voice, bowing deeply as he spoke.

“You’re excused, Peter,” the woman said with a wave of her hand.  The man turned and exited as quickly as he had arrived.

“Never mind that love. Be a good boy and come downstairs.” 

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The scene shifted once more, but this time not nearly so drastically.  Sirius found Hermione- the present Hermione- more easily this time.  Her breathing had calmed, which pleased him.  Just before the fog covered her from view once more, Sirius realized she was gripping Draco’s arm with both hands.

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“I can’t be sure.” Draco repeated. 

“What do you mean?” Bellatrix whispered, wand pointed at the trio. Her wild hair matched the look in her eyes- if she got her way, there would be blood spilt tonight.

Draco stood before the trio, who were still being restrained by snatchers. One was Weasley, the other the girl. By default, it had to be Potter. It certainly looked like the chosen one, just a puffy, swollen version of him. Draco’s eyes met the dark haired boy’s, two opposing sides of green catching for the smallest moment. 

Sweat appeared on the blond boy’s brow and he clenched his clammy hands into fists. 

“Something happened to his face- I can’t be sure.”

“Draco, you must understand, if there’s even a chance it’s him, all will be forgiven,” breathed Lucius. He put a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Perhaps we should simply-“

“Don’t touch it!” Yelped Bellatrix, wand moving to Lucius, “Do not call him here unless-“ a silvery beam of light flashed across her face, catching the room’s attending simultaneously. A sword, long with a ruby hilt caught the light while being examined by the balding snatcher. The deranged witch screamed, running to the man and jabbing her wand into his throat.

“Where did you get that!” She howled, voice rising a full octave. 

“I found it in er’ bag,” the bald man stuttered,” reckon is’ mine-“ 

With a red flash of light he collapsed to the floor, Bellatrix seizing the sword and rounding on Hermione. 

“Where did you get this?” She said, far too quietly for the outburst she’d just displayed. 

“We found it-“

“LIES!” Bellatrix bellowed.  Her voice became hushed and  icey once more

“This is meant to be under lock and key in my Gringotts vault.”

“Don’t talk to he-“ Ron’s outburst was silenced by a swift kick in the stomach from Greyback. 

“Take the boys downstairs,” Bellatrix snarled, jerking her head to Pettigrew through a clenched smile. “It’s time for us girls to have a little chat.” 

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The Dungeon at Malfoy Manor 

Ron’s Memory 

“HERMIONE!”  Ron bellowed, banging at the door.

“It's no use mate, we’re not going to get out that way,” said Harry from behind him.

Another one of Hermione’s screams erupted from above.

“Then HOW?” He asked, reeling towards Harry.

They were trapped in what seemed to be an old wine cellar far beneath the manor.  A short, fat man guarded the door, wand out.  They had already found Luna and Ollivander in the prison with them- along with a house elf that Harry had been talking with for the last several minutes.  

“Kreature knows the way,” the house elf said quietly.  Ron ran to the elf, falling to his knees. The guard at the door turned at the sound, but a muffled cry of “Pettigrew, come here now!”  redirected his attention.  The guard scurried upstairs, footsteps receding.  The group of prisoners stayed quiet until he was gone.

“If Mister Potter destroys the locket, Kreature will help Mister Potter and his friends escape,” the house elf said in his gravelly voice. 

“I swear it, Kreature.”

“For Master Regulus.”

“Yes.”

The elf extended his bony fist to Harry, handing him an object Ron couldn’t quite make out in the darkness. Harry took it, hastily shoving it in the bag he kept around his neck.  The elf nodded grimly, walking to the other prisoners.  

“Come back for us in five minutes, Kreature,” Harry said

“Take them to Shell Cottage- we’ll be safe there,” Ron added hurriedly.

The elf took the hands of the old man and the young woman, and disapperated with a small pop.

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The room changed once more, this time even more quickly than the last.  Sirius saw Harry had shifted in his seat, away from Hermione.  Ron was staring steadfastly at the center of the room, presumably watching the memories shuffle.  Draco now had a hand on top of Hermione’s, but his eyes were fixed on the floor. 

Hermione’s eyes met Sirius’. They were an ocean of fire, waves of tears crashing down her pale face. With a shaky breath, she let go of Draco’s arm, hands falling into her lap.

The memories settled.

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Malfoy Manor 

Hermione’s Memory

“We found it in the woods! Please!” Hermione gasped in between sobs. 

“Liar! Crucio!”

She had been screaming for so long her voice gave out, her face contorted into silent agony. The spell subsided.  Her jaw hurt, she realized between shaky breaths. Across from her, she noticed Greyback bouncing on his heels

Hermione's arms had been strung above her head and chained to the mantle of the marble fireplace. Her torso hung like a piece of meat in a butcher shop, her lower limbs flailing about on the ground beneath with the impact of each spell. Her body was ridged, shaking between rounds of torture.  Her stomach lurched. 

“Admit it! You snuck in my vault, you fucking mudblood!”

“No, PLEASE-”

“CRUCIO!”

 Hermione had given up fighting the pain and moved to fighting to stay present. Her eyes rolled back into her head with another unforgivable hitting her, body convulsing uncontrollably. Greyback started to whine- like a viscous, caged animal. Bellatrix’s eyes shot to him and a horrifying smile spread across her face. 

“Fine. If I can’t get you to talk, maybe he can.” 

Narcissa cleared her throat. 

“Bella, we’ve talked about this-“ her voice commanded the room from her seat in the far corner, all eyes shifting to her. 

The unexpected break gave Hermione the opportunity to pick her head up.  She was surrounded by every horrible person that had haunted her nightmares for the last several months.   A sob cracked through her chest. Bile trickled from the corner of her mouth.  Her eyes fell on Draco.

“I’m going to get them.”

Hermione gasped at Draco’s voice, but the other adults in the room were too occupied to notice her mistake.  She relaxed- as much as she could- and accepted the frantic tugging she had felt on her mind.  A cool presence flooded her body as Draco’s thoughts filled her head once more.

“I’m going to get them- but you have to hold on.  I can’t help you once they make it up here.”

Hermione’s head bobbed in response. Draco stepped silently towards the door. 

“She’s not talking, Cissy!” Bellatrix stomped her foot, whining like a child in front of Honeydukes. 

“May I suggest not in my parlor, at the very least?” Narcissa draped one arm over the back of her chair and tossed her hair casually. 

“She’s just a mudblood,” Lucius murmured. 

“A mudblood? She’ll like this then.” Greyback snarled, walking to Hermione. 

She looked up at him, neck struggling to support the weight of her head. Greyback pulled a knife from his back pocket and grabbed at her jeans, beginning to cut them loose. Hermione scrunched her face and mustered the last of her strength, kicking the werewolf square in the chest. He stumbled backwards. The room burst into laughter around them. Draco froze in his spot, mouth agape, one hand almost to the door. Greyback stood and marched back to Hermione, grabbing her matted hair and pressing the knife to her temple. Blood dripped down the side of her skull. 

“You’re going to regret that, you fucking slut.” 

The room descended into laughter once more. It was Narcissa’s particularly loud, empty chuckle that seemed to remind Draco of what he was doing. Hermione’s eyes met Draco’s once more. 

“Pettigrew, with me,” Draco said softly as he slipped through the door and from the memory.

Greyback dropped the chains that strung Hermione up to the mantle.  She fell to the floor with a soft thud.  

Greyback stomped on her head, and the memory went dark.

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There was screaming, Sirius realized, even though the memories had flown back into the pensive several moments ago.  He couldn’t quite make out the words, if there were any.  It felt as though he were stuck underwater.  Everything around him was moving too slowly.  People were staring at him, he could feel it, but he was ignoring them.  He was only looking at Hermione.

Her face was stained with tears.  Her breath was still shaky, but she wasn’t crying anymore.  She was standing, frowning, and shaking her head at Sirius.  Draco stood behind her, grabbing her wrist. 

Why is she shaking her head?

There was a rush of feeling around Sirius, as though he were being pulled from underwater and very suddenly thrown back into the courtroom.  His mouth was open- it registered that he was the one screaming. His brain caught up with his mouth; finally, he was able form one coherent sentence. 

“I remove Hermione Jean Granger as a witness from my case.”

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