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Harry Potter was standing trial in front of the whole Wizengamot, his friends and acquaintances. All those fools, stupid, silly men and women- watching what had become of their savior: a criminal, a murderer. They did not even have common sense; such a simple, unassuming thing to possess, yet it was beyond these primeval beings.
Justice, they called; justice. He cried for what had become of the blind-folded lady mentally. Did the blind-fold really represent equity to all? Probably nobody in the Wizarding world knew even the statue itself, let alone what it was supposed to stand for.
"The Wizengamot, with full members, shall try Harry James Potter, for the murder of a fellow wizard." informed Kingsley Shacklebolt. His voice was sad, quivering. "It is a sad day, indeed. Our savior, the Beacon of Light, Harry Potter has committed himself into the Dark Arts. He has cast the darkest of all the spells known to us on a wizard- an act punishable only by a life sentence in Azkaban, as the Law stands." Shacklebolt sighed, as if in anguish. "Do we want a fate such for any?"
The Wizengamot and the audience shouted 'No!' revolted at the idea.
Shacklebolt continued when the shouts were but a murmuring, "But the question is 'do we have to?' Alas, my fellow wizards and witches- alas, yes, we have to..." He lowered his head like he was ashamed of what he was proposing. "Also we unfortunately have to listen to the defense. How can you defend yourself, Harry Potter? How can you defend such a despicable, vile act?" He sat down.
The reaction from the Wizengamot was predictable; sheep to be herded, the whole lot of them were.
The chains holding him fast to the uncomfortable arm-chair-like slab of marble slid down from his arms, legs and neck as he stood. The shock of everybody in the room was noticed in smug satisfaction. "I thank you, Minister, for delivering the accusation in such a dramatic way. The event was a drama come to life, indeed. As such, I ask Wizengamot and the audience to bear with myself while I take my time to mount the case my life depends on."
The words must have sunk in the thick skulls, because the wands pointed at him were being lowered.
"But I'll die of curiosity if I don't ask this: did you, perchance, consider a career in drama, Minister? You would have made a marvelous drama queen seeing you have an admirable flair for dramatics." Harry dipped his hat in recognition of the dubious honor he had bestowed upon the Minister.
A few from the Wizengamot even snickered, which was a good sign considering the trials he had observed were more about word-play in the Wizarding world than evidence at all, be it concrete or circumstantial.
"Dramatics aside," Harry continued his defense, "the event did end up with one lying on the ground, dead, the other standing, bruised, abused, battered, but very much breathing and alive. Every death is a tragedy for those who are close to the deceased; I would much rather not dishonor his memory with this, but you insist. It would have concluded with the same result, regardless of who was to be standing in the end. Had he not perished, I would have." He paused for a deep breath.
The members of the Wizengamot were shifting in their seats. They had probably hoped for a quick trial followed by a prompt execution; 'Are you guilty of the crimes of which you're accused, Harry Potter?' 'Yes, your honor.' 'Dementor's Kiss!' 'Sure, gimme a smoochie Dementie darling!'
Anyway…
"Let's get all our facts straight, lest we wander from the truth as it is, to fictions our mind oft-times tend to roam. He was a man of ideal, as was I. Our ideals clashed, hence the outcome of our duel. He died for his ideal." Harry took off his hat, turned to the crying woman and two children and bowed his head.
The silence was thick. Though most would think it was merely a performance on his part, he was genuinely saddened by how it had turned out.
"To judge someone, you have to know their take on the matter you're judging them of. He was an honorable and honest with himself, honest with his perceived adversary, and honest about his views. Before we dueled, we traded our last words to each other as is the custom.
"An injustice had befallen on him –I will elaborate on this later. He saw me as the head culprit. He acted. And I respected him for that.
"You may wonder what my belief is... I shall, though skeptical if it will grant any insight, sate your curiosity. I have seen many slain by magic.
"The first was when I was one year old. My parents were killed at the point of a wand, though I would learn that fact much, much later into the future.
"Next, death showed its face through a fellow student: Cedric Diggory. He was a handsome young man and he will always be remembered as a handsome young man, because he died at the age of fifteen. And I watched as a wand was pointed at him, and I watched the man holding the wand claim his life as if with barely a thought and nary an effort.
"We all must also remember what has happened within this very building. I was led to believe my Godfather was held and being tortured at the end of the corridor just outside this room. Walk out, and turn right; you can't miss the inconspicuous door that leads to the Department of Mysteries. I led a group of friends to rescue my Godfather, only to find it to be a trap to lure myself in. A fight ensued between the said friends and some Death Eaters. The details are irrelevant, so I will skip to the conclusion part. The event concluded itself with a duel- a duel between Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort, a duel so magnificent, so terrifying that even now I feel the hairs on my neck stand on end.
"After then comes Albus Dumbledore's death. He was weakened, true –but a schoolboy, for gods' sakes! A schoolboy with a wand disarmed the greatest wizard of modern times! This schoolboy simply pointed his wand at Dumbledore and uttered an incantation- that was it, one of the most powerful men to have ever lived was defenseless.
"I, too, was in denial of what a wizard could do with only a wand until the next part of the story: The War. That is when I saw the truth in the faces countless bodies- burnt, torn, life sucked out. That is when I realized as I witnessed many an able man with haunted eyes, lost limbs; beautiful, headstrong women, deformed, left a sobbing mess. I see some of you remember the aftermath. It was a carnage that strikes dread into our hearts still, was it not?
"Yet the worst part is still unsaid. The worst part though wasn't death, not by a long shot... It is the torture; have you seen anyone being tortured? Have you ever heard how one of your best friends in the whole world screams under the Cruciatus? Have you seen a man gauge his own eyes out to get rid of the horrendous visions the torturer is inflicting upon him? Have you seen how a woman struggles against the chains holding her fast to the wall, how shackles draw blood in floods from places you would not even suspect veins existed, how the unforgiving steel punishes every bit of resistance when condemned to unspeakable atrocities?
"All these led to a solid belief in my mind that I will hold fast until death claims me: wands are not trifle toys..."
Some snickered at his claim, and Harry saw red. "So you laugh?"
Harry composed himself, "I wonder what would happen if Wisdom were the Hogwarts Express and hit you in the face or if God were to materialize in front of you and hand you a book with a bold, golden title 'Wisdom.' Never you mind, though; let us get on with the story.
"The question stands before us is what his belief was. I have to explain, though, for the family, my reason to not use his name: he is as much an idea as he was a man here in this court-room; and I do not wish to name an idea that many might hold.
"He was wronged, grievously... I could see it in his eyes. He was wronged by the organization this very body has sworn to duly protect, and to uphold, and to ensure the continuation of, forevermore, as long as you are able. I do not presume to know the details of it, but the cause had to be an insignificant, political matter to precede such an indignant standing. And I was the main culprit, in his eyes...
"What pains me most is that he was right. I am the main culprit because I fought to protect and preserve this way of life, because I chose the lesser of two evils, that I did nothing when I had the opportunity to right what had gone awry. When I understood what he stood for, I bowed to him.
"Then I asked him one thing: 'Do you back your wand with your life?' The wand, as the man, stood for an idea. And he smiled, and bowed to me. He understood, as did I. He faced me to show me a terrible error I had done –as the saying goes, 'what goes around, comes around,' does it not? And he learned my new look in life, and he accepted it.
"They say in most extreme situations can you understand someone... That may be truer than one might think...
"So with this new understanding of each other, and with the respect due delivered, we dueled. In the end, he proved that his idea is worth dying for, and I merely proved I was the better dueler out of us two. Before I cast the Killing Curse –I did not wish him to suffer. He faced me as I uttered the words, closed his eyes, and smiled!
"So I stand not before you –the Wizengamot- but before his family to explain what has happened and what evoked it as much as I was able, so I rest my case." He sat back down.
The Minister apparently was having a field day. Considering his vulturine expression, it was a small wonder he was still not salivating at the mouth. "So you admit to your guilt! You admit that you cast the Killing Curse on a wizard!" He turned to the Wizengamot. "What more do we need? He admits! The verdict, the punishment is clear...! And let's not waste any more time with what now is unnecessary! Let's have the verdict!"
When asked those who judged him guilty raise their wands, no hand was standing down. He was, unanimously, found guilty, with the sentence of a life in Azkaban.
Harry stood again. "Now we have heard your verdict, and we shall hear my last words that are to go into this trial's records. As I said, I stand before the family to judge myself –what the Wizengamot think or deal out as justice is of importance as is what a moth, a gnat does."
No one remained sitting. Everybody was shouting and screaming to be heard over the pandemonium. They were incensed to the point that a riot was surely at hand.
"I know this to be not fair at all, but I will place this burden on his family. He was right as I said; so an eye for an eye." He turned to the family. "Justice can prevail only this way here in this court. I place my life on your hand; do with it as you wish."
Tears were flooding down the face of the woman on her knees. A heart-breaking scene, whichever angle you look at it from. The children, barely of Hogwarts age, were clenching to her robes. The impact of a real tragedy, if there was one. But the woman shook her head no, looking at Harry straight in the eye. Her mouth moved to form the word, too, though the ruckus prevented her sound to be heard. He bowed his head for a moment.
Two Aurors were approaching him from the side door in order to apprehend him presumably, wands in their hands.
"Now that we had the real verdict, this trial is adjourned.
"What remains to be done is to combine the two ideas I mentioned," he opened one hand, palm up, "merge them into one and shape it into one that can accomplish what two could not..." and the Death Stick materialized in his open palm.
"The question is, do you back your wands with your lives?"
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