Days Of An Auror

Encaitaire

Author's Note: I've posted this story before, somewhat different and under the penname 'munsje'. Now, almost a year later (I believe even longer), I'm reposting it.
Now it cooperates better with the new information that was given in the fifth book and I've changed a whole lot of the plotline. I just wasn't satisfied with the first draft (that's why I never updated).
Enjoy 'Days Of An Auror', a story 'bout the first reign of Voldemort, and I hope you will leave a review.

Prologue

"Disciplinary hearing of the nineteenth of December, 1982. The accused, Sam Smith, is charged off the following crimes: passing through secret information of the Ministry of Magic to He Who Must Not Be Named and his followers, use of magic in front of Muggles and use of the unforgivable curses.
"Interrogaters: Millicent Bagnold, Minister of Magic, Bartolemus Crouch, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Albus Percival Wulfric Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry."
For a long time nothing was heard in the room, and Sam had the time to look around. It had been a long time since he had been at the Ministry. Such a long, long time. It felt good to be back. His arms were chained to the chair, and though he couldn't see them, he felt the presence of the two Dementors behind him.
"The accused is responsible for the murder on Abigail Iris Whittaker, chaser of the English Quidditch Team the Wimbourne Wasps."
Perhaps all he had done had been a mistake. After all, it hadn't been his intention to cause all this, especially the death of Abigail. The Wizengamot looked down upon him, their eyes filled with hatred and anger. He didn't care, the entire Wizengamot was now acting like they were saints, but in all the years that Voldemort had reigned, at least half of them hadn't lifted a finger to try and stop him.
At least Sam had tried, yes he had failed, and yes he had done the exact opposite of his actual job description, but he had tried. That was more credit than he could give them!
"You are Sam Smith Junior?" Crouch asked.
"Yes," Sam asked, he never understood why they asked this question during a hearing, whom else could he be?
"And you are aware that the use of the unforgivable curses is not allowed and could give you a life sentence in Azkaban?"
"Yes."
"You know that it is not allowed to perform magic in front of Muggles?"
"Fully aware, sir," he said, in a bored tone.
"At the time, were you aware that you gave restricted information that should be kept within the walls of the Ministry to You Know Who?"
Sam wasn't sure what he should say to that. Yes, he had been fully aware. He had known the consequences, why he had done it and most of all, he had known it was wrong. But admitting this, would mean that he would be locked up in Azkaban for good.
Not that he deserved any better.
He looked at the only man to find an answer, to see if his life was worth saving. He looked straight at his best friend, Alastor Moodey. But when Moodey caught his glace, he just send him a nasty look, before turning away. Sam knew it then. No one cared about him anymore, he had messed up. Betraying the Ministry was one thing, but betraying your friends was far, far worse.
He deserved the Kiss.
"Yes," he said softly, almost whispering.
Crouch bowed forward and said loudly, "excuse me, mr. Smith, but I didn't quite catch that, what did you say?"
Sam felt his temper rising, but suppressed it. He deserved this. Hell, he deserved much worse than this. "Yes," he repeated, "yes, I knew. The Dark Lord hadn't tricked me, he hadn't manipulated me in any way. I did it, because at that time, I felt it was the right thing to do, that perhaps the cause that he was fighting for was the right one."
Someone on the tribunes began to cry, and by the sound of it, he knew it was his mother.
"So because you agreed with him, you decided that the best thing to do was torture and murder others of our kind?"
"No," Sam said. "No. That was not the case."
"Than what was the case," Crouch enquired.
"I didn't kill Abbey, I loved her," the tears started to well in his eyes, "I didn't mean too... she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. I was in the same room when it happened, true, but I didn't do it. And if it had been possible, I would have stopped them. I hardly ever used the unforgivable curses, unless the situation required them. I was just trying to survive, sir. I was..." His voice broke and he looked away.
The atmosphere in the room became even more grim, if this was possible, and some of the wizards started to murmur.
"No situation requires the use of the unforgivable curses," Bagnold spat, "and even if you hadn't used them, you deserve a lifetime in Azkaban just for betraying the Ministry. You were an auror, mr. Smith, an auror! One assigned to locate and take out You Know Who."
Sam lowered his head, he felt so ashamed, but none of them understood.
"Sam," Dumbledore's soft voice suddenly spoke up, "what happened? Why did you join him?"
Yes, what had happened?
"I don't know," Sam replied, "I don't know, professor. It happened so fast. I never meant for this to happen, you must believe me."
Crouch snorted, "yes, that's what they all say. Damn Death Eaters, they deserve to die, each and every one of them!"
A lot of wizards nodded in contempt and even Sam had the urge to nod.
"Tell us what happened, Sam. All of it," Dumbledore continued. "At least Moodey has the right to know."
He hesitated, he wasn't sure what good it would do, he was certain that it would only anger the Wizengamot more. They wouldn't understand, they wouldn't believe him. But Alastor would. Alastor may hate him, he may despise him, but they were still friends. He would believe Sam.
So he drew a deep breath and started to talk.