Fate's Irony
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Prologue
It was the trial of the century. Every paper had reporters attending, cataloging the events as they were made. Many reporters' careers were built from the whole escapade that the wizarding world followed with a passion. On the streets, debates rang out back and forth as the citizens questioned whether the suspect was innocent or guilty. For most, the brutality of the crime, along with the previous exposés in the papers, immediately declared him in the wrong, and thus his life in forfeit. The evidence against him was that strong.
The prosecution levied one damaging testimony after another against him, and ripped through the meager walls the defense tried to put up. The attorney for the defendant clearly didn't want the case. Even he thought his client was guilty, and didn't want to ruin his career by letting the 'guilty' defendant off the hook. So the Ministry of Magic attorney had a free pass to make a mockery of the court, and, as expected, in the end, the accused was found guilty of all charges against him.
As he stared down at the young man he was about to sentence, the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, couldn't help a bit of a smile. He'd finally won the war against his enemies, and with this trial just about over, his opponent wouldn't have much left to stand on. Not that he would live long beyond this anyway. He was once again proven he was in the right, despite what the opposition had tried to have published against him.
"A jury of your peers has found you guilty of triple homicide. Do you have any last words before you are sentenced?" his booming voice echoed in the large court room.
Silence was all that answered him. Just like every time before.
"Very well," he paused, taking a deep breath, before saying as gravely as he could, "Harry James Potter, you are here-by sentenced to death by The Veil. The normal sentence of the Dementor's Kiss has been passed over due to extenuating circumstances involving both the ages of your victims and the brutal method used to end their lives."
Again, silence rang. The defendant had said nothing the entire trial, letting his 'lawyer' do all the talking, never offering a word in his own defense or an alternative explanation.
"The sentence shall be carried out in one hour."
A cough to his left reminded him of the new law that had been passed just a few days before the incident that brought the trial into existence.
Fudge sighed, and nearly growled out, "In accordance to W.M.L 231-2, you shall be allowed ten minutes with your guardian, starting right now."
Everyone watched as Remus Lupin, one of the only people to still be standing beside the "Boy-Who-Lived" since his initial arrest, walked up to where Harry sat, bound to the chair by chains.
The Minister of Magic wasn't sure how Albus Dumbledore managed to get the werewolf instated as the boy's guardian, but in the end it was utterly useless. The boy had proven his point, that the young lad was mentally unstable, and was not to be trusted in the least. Best of all, he had done in a way that removed most of his support, and even had his former friends turn against him; those that were still alive.
It was a glorious day to be in office.
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Remus Lupin looked down at the small, skinny form of his friends' son. The boy wasn't looking at him, just staring off into space, the same way he had ever since he'd first heard of the deaths that had started the whole mess.
"Harry," he said quietly, hoping the young man would look at him. "I know you didn't commit murder, Harry. I know you're innocent."
He hoped his words would reach the mind the broken form in front of him, but it was to no avail. Nothing came out of him. No sound, no movement.
Remus sighed, as he said the next few words. "I know this is hard to believe, but this will all work out in the end. I'm positive of it – just like I am that you never murdered Ron, Hermione, or Ginny."
Again, nothing.
He placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, and spent the next several minutes trying to reach out to the tortured soul, but no matter what he did, he got no response, no affirmative that the wizarding child was even mentally alive anymore.
"Your time is up!" Minister Fudge's voice rang out. "The convict will now be escorted to the Department of Mysteries where the families of the victims will watch the sentence carried out."
Remus nodded and stood up, and when his hand left the defendant's shoulder, an unnoticed, dull blue light shined for three seconds before disappearing.
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Albus Dumbledore had never felt older than he did at the current moment. His most prized student, the one he'd pinned all his hopes and dreams of a bright future to, had followed the dark path of a former student of his. Only this time, he'd gone farther than Tom Riddle ever did. While Tom had murdered a student while in school, it was someone he'd never associated with, in secret and shrouded in mystery, successfully blaming another, Harry had openly killed. Not only killed, but brutally murdered his best friends.
He still remembered in horror, the day his world turned on its head as Aurors entered school to inform him they were there to arrest Harry for murder, before he'd even found out about the attack. How they knew before hand, he still didn't know, and it was the only piece that bugged him about the entire situation. And, also, that he'd never believed Harry to be able to do that before it happened.
Now, he could only watch in silence as the world's last chance at salvation was killed because he'd forsaken the light, and be grateful the lad was stopped before he could do any more harm. He only hoped he'd be able to find another way to defeat Voldemort, now that the prophecy would be utterly invalid.
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As they watched the young man stand before the Veil, his eyes blank, and head angled down, the Weasley family couldn't help the contempt that rose in them. The young man was acting like he'd lost everything from his actions, when they were the ones hurting so bad, none of the family members got any sleep at night. Every time they closed their eyes, they would imagine the last moments of their son and daughter's , brother and sister's life, and could only weep at the horror their obsessed minds came up with. It was slowly destroying them, and it made them hate the cause of their heartache even more.
They'd denied the allegations against their children's friend at first, but as time went on, as more evidence was collected, as the truth of the final moments of Ron's and Ginny's lives came out, their feelings changed. At the end, they'd shown only anger and fury at the boy they'd taken into their home and treated as one of their own, so many years go.
Though he was now paying for his crimes, they felt it would never be enough. Never come close to repaying them for the betrayal and emptiness left by the hole in their family.
And in the ultimate twist of fate, they were the only ones to catch the look in his eyes as the Aurors pushed him through the veil.
The look of peace, of release from pain.
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Three figures watched unbeknownst to everyone in the room. The sight of their friend, almost completely broken, brought all them to tears, as he stared straight ahead, not knowing he was looking right at them. It wasn't fair, they knew. All the pain and suffering he'd suffered at the hands of others, only to be brought to unbearable proportions by the actions of a few.
"Do you think he'll ever forgive us?" Ginny quietly asked, staring at the tormented eyes of the man she loved.
Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know if he'll ever get over this."
"He will," Ron countered. "It'll take him time, but time is all we have right now."
Ginny sniffled, but nodded. "I hope you're right."
They watched in silence as their friend took one step, followed by another, slowly entering the Veil and transported to the realm they were in.
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Harry blinked as he looked around. When he walked through the Veil, he'd expected it to hurt, expected agonizing pain to fill him. Maybe it would be enough to bring atonement for him, for his crimes.
No, he thought a moment later. Nothing can ever give me that. I'm damned.
But no pain came. It was as if walking through a curtain.
And on the other side, standing as if they were only waiting for him, were his friends. The ones everyone believed he'd killed in a fit of rage. Yet, the looks on their faces were anything but horror, distain, or fear.
"…"
He tried speaking, but nothing came out. He couldn't find his voice, couldn't express his sorrow for what'd happened.
A moment later, it was unnecessary.
As one, they wrapped their arms around him, holding him in a hug, and he let his tears flow. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you're dead," he sobbed against them.
"About that, Harry," Hermione said, slightly hesitant. "You see, we're not dead. And neither are you."
