A/N
Written for the QLFC Round 2
Chaser 1: Triceratops: Write about a 'light' character protecting themselves.
Optional prompts: 6. Proof; 9. Light grey; 12. Pretty soon man will out live his usefulness. When that happens...well… remember what happened to the dinosaurs. ― Anthony T. Hincks
Prove It
Despite the ever-present gloom pressing in behind him, his senses were unusually sharp as he entered the courtroom, head held high.
He could see every person packed into the wooden benches towering above him; the Warlocks in maroon, the Aurors in bright red, the spectators in every colour of the rainbow, from deep blue to bright pink. He could see his best friend (ex-best friend?) sitting right at the back, his black robes blending into the shadows, his face the colour of the hair sitting at his temples. Last month he was 21, laughing at a joke someone had made. Today he looked all of 50, the grey in his hair looking sad and defeated, rather than distinguished.
The Defendant will be seated
He could feel every thread of his robes, every particle of dirt they had gathered over the past two weeks. He could tell you exactly where the chains touched his body, down to the millimeter. He could feel the ragged breathing on his neck, making every hair stand on end. It was a feeling he was never going to get used to.
How does the Defendant plead?
He could smell the disgust from the Prosecutor, the anger from the assembled Warlocks, the disappointment and confusion from his ex-Headmaster. He could practically taste the fear rolling off the spectators, half convinced they would be his next victims. And oh so faint, he could smell the tiniest whiff of hope coming from the shadows at the back. So faint, he barely let himself believe it existed. Because if it did, then maybe he still had one ally in this room.
Not guilty
He could hear the whispers from every corner of the room. "Not guilty? What does he mean not guilty?" "Does he think we're stupid?" "Maybe he really is insane!"
He always knew this would happen. Knew no one would believe him. Why would they? He had been stupid enough to believe this wouldn't happen, to believe he was making everyone safer. This was what he deserved.
Mr. Black, you say you are not guilty. If this is the case - of which I am skeptical - but if you are telling the truth, who is the guilty party?
A sudden, unexpected rush of guilt and uncertainty threatened to overwhelm him. Here was his chance to right the wrongs of the past two weeks, to finally walk free. And yet he couldn't shake the feeling of throwing someone else under the bus. For all his faults, he had never been one to let others take the fall for what he saw as his own mistakes. Even if, as in this case, they had been just as, if not more, to blame.
Peter Pettigrew
Again with the whispers, the shocked looks, the stench of hatred, disbelief and anger rolling over him, threatening to make him sick. Why had he agreed to this anyway? It would have been much easier to just take the punishment, to let the world continue to hate him. And yet there must have been a reason he had wanted the chance to clear his name.
Peter Pettigrew has been confirmed as deceased, at your own hand. Have you proof to the contrary?
Proof. They wanted proof. Proof that he was not who they all thought he was, that he was not one of them. But what could he tell them, show them, give them, that would make them satisfied? He had been proving himself his entire life, and yet here he was, on trial once again.
Unbidden, the memories washed over him, dragging him back into the past he so desperately wanted to forget. Back to the poisonous looks, and the sharp-edged words.
Back to when Bellatrix had locked him in a cupboard and then convinced the adults he had run away, painting herself as the hero when she "found him."
Prove it…
Back to when Regulus would sneak out multiple times a week, with Kreacher to cover for him if his parents happened to require his presence.
Prove it…
Back to when the whole school stared at him as he walked to the front of the Great Hall, convinced he was just like his family. Convinced he was just lying about being different.
Prove it…
Back to the almost daily arguments with his cousins about worth, and ambition, and greatness. "You don't need to be a Pureblood Slytherin to be great"
Prove it…
Back to the fight to be accepted, to make friends. The fight to be seen as nice, and caring, and loyal. "I'm not going to turn on you just because of who you are or what you believe."
Prove it…
Back to the days where he was just seen as the joker, the prankster. To the days when no adult believed he could amount to anything more.
Prove it…
Back to the days of trying to convince his brother that there was another way; that there was a whole world out there that their parents didn't want him to see. That he didn't have to follow them, that he was more than that.
Prove it…
Back to the worst moment of his school days; to the disappointment, the betrayal, on his friends' faces. "It was just a moment of unthinking stupidity. I'm not like them, I promise!"
Prove it…
Back to the happiest day of his life, to the radiant look in her eyes, to the vows they spoke to each other. "I vow to love and protect you, cherish and fight for you, for all the days of my life."
Prove it…
Back to that moment of breath-taking joy as he understood what his wife was telling him. Back to his immediate promise to his unborn child. "I will always love you little one. I will always keep you safe."
Prove it…
Back to that day only months ago, when he presented the idea to his best friends. "This will keep you even safer!"
Prove it…
He was so deep into his memories, that he didn't even notice the people staring at him, the impatient tapping of the Prosecutor on the bench.
Mr. Black, your evidence please
How could he prove his innocence, when he couldn't even prove Peter was still alive? How could he defend himself when they had all made up their minds about him anyway?
I have no evidence with me today sir, but if you could just-
There was no mistaking that look in the Prosecutor's eye. There would be no second chance.
Pretty soon all men outlive their usefulness Mr. Black. And today you have outlived yours. Guards, you may take him to Azkaban.
He could see the satisfied smirk on Crouch's face, the disappointment on Dumbledore's. He could hear the murmurings of the spectators, telling each other that they hadn't expected any less. He could smell the wave of despair from the grey face in the shadows. He could feel the icy cold of the dementors' hands on his arms.
And as he was placed in his cell only minutes later, he had almost convinced himself that he deserved this. But he couldn't shake that tiny voice in the back of his head whispering "You're innocent."
Prove it...