I held a wad of my elegant, black ball gown in my torn, bleeding left hand. My right hand was clutching my wand and stayed close to my side. I wondered if the ministry had captured anyone else...but my guess was no...Who they cared about was me...all they cared about, was me. I tried to run, but I was too out of breathe. Clutching the stitch in my chest, I took a quick gasp of air and then silenced myself...anyone from the ministry could be right around the corner, and if I spoke or made any loud, sudden noise, I'd be found... I climbed the marble staircase with vast anticipation...soon, I'd be out of their grasp. The ministry would never find me...
I held a wad of my elegant white red ball gown in my torn, bleeding right hand. My left hand was clutching my wand, and stayed close to my side. I wondered if the Death Eaters had captured anyone else...but my guess was no...who they cared about was me...all they cared about, was me. I tried to run, but I was too out of breathe. Clutching the stitch in my side, I took a quick gasp of air then silenced myself...any of Voldemort's followers could be right around the corner, and if I spoke or made any sudden noise, I'd be found... I let go of my dress and it hung down, grazing the broken stairs as I climbed across the thick, black railing. Vast anticipation flooded through my body...soon, I'd be out of their grasp...They would never find me...
I was free! I was outside, running through the clearing with a new lease on life. I kicked of my heels and ran faster, leaving the glittering, gold pumps behind. I ran until I could no longer breath, and I stopped short, sure I would fall over. Big, brown, furry hands caught me, and long, thick claws punctured through the soft skin on my chest. I fell over gasping; blood ran down my side and onto the grass. I heard a howl. I felt the claws being ripped out of my chest; and I was left to die.
I was free! I was outside, running through the rubble with a new lease on life. I kicked of my heels and ran faster, leaving the glittering, black pumps behind. I ran until I could no longer breath, and I stopped short, sure I would fall over. Thin, gray, furry hands caught me, and long, sharp claws grazed my neck and sunk into my back. I fell over gasping; blood ran down my neck and onto the glass and wood beams. I heard a howl. I felt the claws being ripped out of my back; and I was left to die.
Everyone in the court room was silent. The only person standing was a man of about 30, with small, cheap framed gold glasses, and patched up, bloody robes. He was soaking wet, and he looked as though he would pass out and die at any moment. Cornelius Fudge sat down, looking over his spectacles at the person standing before him. He rose to his feet slowly and grasped the sides of the pulpit with great emotion. Was he angry? Was he sad? Or was he simply scared?
He spoke slowly... he spoke, softly.
"Remus John Lupin, you've been charged with two counts of second degree murder. Will you plead guilty, or innocent?"
The young man gulped, and glanced over at Albus Dumbledore...the twinkle in the old man's eyes, was gone. Remus Lupin looked back at Cornelius Fudge, and replied with a strangled sob: "I plead guilty, sir," he looked at the floor, and repeated himself, crying, "I'm guilty."