Happy New Year! Here's another chapter to kick off 2018! Thank you to those who reviewed/favorited/followed so far!
-Cat
Chapter 2
Truth/Deceit
November 2, 1981
"Did you have knowledge of Black's association with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
"No."
"He came from a dark family, did he not? Surely you suspected that he was in league with the Death Eaters."
"I didn't."
"But you and Black were friends. It just… escaped your notice that he had joined their ranks?"
Silence.
"So you did suspect?"
"No."
"There's a spy in the Order. Someone close."
Did he?
"The Potters are dead. Peter Pettigrew is dead. And you are sitting here, alive. You understand how this looks, Mr. Lupin?"
"I do." Whispered.
"So you understand why I am having trouble believing that you had no knowledge of Black's betrayal?"
"Yes." He could barely answer. The sound was hissed, air forced through his jagged throat. Dark spots bloomed around the edges of his vision, bled together into a ugly mass. Was he suffocating?
"I will ask you again, then. Are you, Remus Lupin, an accomplice of Sirius Black and by proxy, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
"No."
He wished he knew the time. He felt… separate from his body. Hollow. The hours spent in the metal chair numbed his bones and tissue. Four blank walls barred escape, a hard table between him and two aurors. Silver scratches stood out in the dull metal. The warrant for his weary answers to their questions lay open on the surface, a reminder that the proceedings were condoned by the Chief Warlock, keeper of justice. Bartemius Crouch's signature was scribbled carelessly across the line. Slip of paper, slip of tongue, bitter truth…
"You're much more than this." Remus did not have the strength to recoil from his voice. Sour bile rose in his mouth.
Remus was tired. Tired of answering. Tired of feeling.
The auror slammed his palm flat next to the warrant, making it flutter in the shifting air. Authorization was all the aurors needed. They were austere, dressed in interrogators robes. Asking the same question over and over.
"Did you help Black in any way?"
"No. Am I under arrest?"
The auror paused. His shadowed eyes flickered to his companion. "No."
"I've answered your questions. Several times. That's all that is required by your piece of paper."
"You can't leave until we are satisfied."
"If I'm not under arrest, you can't keep me here."
"Those rights are modified for someone with your classification suspected of aiding a traitor."
Remus looked down at the scratched table, blinking away the defeat and humiliation stinging in his eyes. Then he swallowed. "Can I have a glass of water?"
"We are not finished."
Remus exhaled wearily and leaned back against the back of the chair. The dark spots stayed stubbornly in place, floating like ink in water.
They began again, the questions unchanged, an exhausted mantra of denial. Cycles like the moon. Remus' head pounded. He wondered if it was midnight yet.
"Did you have knowledge of Black's association with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
"Are you waiting for me to give up and say yes?"
"Mr. Lupin, if you do not cooperate, we will be forced to administer veritaserum before continuing this session."
Remus stared at the auror. He needed to leave. He needed to be sick. He needed his friends. Then he remembered where they were and why he was here.
"Fine," he said. Lowering his gaze back down to the scratched table.
"You will willingly submit to the truth serum?"
"Yes."
The auror nodded to his companion, who cleared his throat and knocked on the door that lead out of the room. It opened. There was a murmured conversation with someone outside, followed by uneven footsteps, a rhythm of stomping boot and the crack of wood on concrete. Remus did not need to look to know who it was. A tiny vial of crystal liquid was clenched in the gnarled hand of Alastor Moody. He did not speak to Remus. His face was hard, but Remus was long past expecting someone to care. What was another betrayal?
"You're much more than this, Moony."
The vial was uncorked and placed on the table with a soft chink. Then Moody retreated to the shadows and watched with an unaffected stare, black and radioactive blue.
Remus' hands shook when he reached for the vial, and he downed it in one gulp. The anesthetic effect on his thinking mind was something like relief. He floated even further away from himself.
"What is your name?"
"Remus Lupin."
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-one."
"Are you a werewolf?"
"Yes."
"Who was the Secret Keeper for the Potters?"
"Sirius Black."
"Did you have any knowledge of Sirius Black's betrayal of the Potters before October 31, 1981?"
"No."
Beat.
"Have you ever been associated with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or his followers?
"No."
There was a pause. Remus' unfocused gaze rested on the door. Moody's face relaxed from the stony expression, his head bowed.
"Get another vial."
Moody's head snapped up and his gaze locked onto the head interrogator at the demand.
"One vial is enough," he growled.
"The wolf is stronger than a regular human. He may need more."
One of the aurors left, and Moody slipped outside behind him. Abandoned. The head interrogator stayed where he was, cold, unmerciful.
Then Moody returned and said gruffly to Remus, "Dumbledore is on his way."
Remus found that he was too far away to care.
March 21, 1986
"The Wizengamot now calls Peter Pettigrew forward."
Through the heavy wooden door of Courtroom Ten came a second set of guards. Between them was a man that Sirius had imagined, had fantasized seeing again, over and over. Every revenge, everything he'd planned to do to him fled, washed out by a firestorm of anger. The hair that used to be blond was reduced to limp patches of matted gray. His paunchy cheeks hung pale beneath the same watery blue eyes that flitted back and forth. A well-fed stomach swelled against standard-issue clothing for the Ministry holding cells. Sweat stained the underarms and dripped down the front. He was shaking so hard, there might have been an earthquake only he felt.
"You fucking bastard!"
Sirius could not recall standing, only that his guards were suddenly on either side of him, hands gripping his forearms tightly. His bizarre, fever-dream of the last day was sharpening into harsh realities. The courtroom was crystalline in its clarity. And the razor sharp focus was on the man entering the floor.
Peter startled so badly, that his own pair of guards had to hold him upright. His sunken eyes locked onto Sirius. There was a moment, barely a second, when Sirius could see it. Peter did not recognize him.
Then-
"S-Sirius?"
And there it was. The fear lay heavily on Peter's tongue and widened his eyes almost comically.
"Mr. Black, if you would please resume your seat," the Ministry witch instructed from her perch on the tall dais. Sirius was pulled back down, but he remained unsettled, as if seated on something burning hot, his spine ramrod straight. Once he had, she turned to Peter.
"He-he's lying," Peter was stammering. "W-whatever he told you, it was all lies!"
"Mr. Pettigrew," the witch interrupted sternly. "You are called before the Wizengamot today charged with perjury, betrayal of the Potters to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and the murders of twelve muggles."
"No! It was him!" Peter nearly shrieked. He yanked an arm free to point a grubby finger at Sirius. The third finger, giving half the court full view of the pale, glistening stump. "It was Sirius Black! He betrayed Lily and James, he's the reason-"
"Hold your tongue, Mr. Pettigrew," the austere woman demanded. The guards wrestled Peter into the chair. Then the inanimate chains glowed and came to life, snaking around Peter's twitching arms and holding him down. Sirius tasted something sour in the back of his throat.
"Mr. Bones, if you would proceed."
"Thank you, Minister Bagnold."
Bones stood. There was a darkness to his stern gaze. "Mr. Pettigrew, in the hearing yesterday, March twentieth, you made the following claims: You re-affirmed that Sirius Black was indeed the Secret Keeper of Lily and James Potter, that it was he who disclosed their location in Godric's Hollow, and that on November the first, 1981, Sirius Black caused the deadly explosion. You then stated that you falsified your own death and remained in hiding out of fear that you would be hunted down by the remainder of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's followers, in particular, those in league with Sirius Black. Do you stand by these claims?
"Yes," Peter squeaked.
"In our questioning of Mr. Black today, we have found his story to be quite different from yours."
"And you believed him?" Peter squawked. Any attempt at humor or incredulity was drowned by the pitch of terror.
"Mr. Black's tale is incredible, yes. However, his has less loose ends than your own, as well as some compelling physical evidence."
"Ph-physical evidence?" Peter stammered. His hands nervously clutched at the arms of the chair. The empty space where the missing finger should have been showed where the wood had been scratched by countless accused before him.
"Indeed," Bones said dryly. "Evidence which will be examined shortly. But first, I would like to go over a few points we discussed yesterday. In that interview you were asked about your whereabouts after the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. To this you responded that you had gone into hiding, fearing the wrath of his followers in the aftermath. Tell me, Mr. Pettigrew, if this is indeed the truth as you continue to claim, what had you done that made you fear retribution from the Death Eaters so much? Neither the Ministry nor the head of the Order of the Phoenix, Albus Dumbledore, can confirm a threat on your life."
"I-I was associated with the Potters. After what happened to the Longbottoms-"
There was a ripple through the courtroom. Sirius felt their resentment, swallowing. The Longbottoms had been well-loved. Peter had prodded a wound that still festered.
"Frank and Alice Longbottom were attacked nearly two weeks after the events of November first, much later than the time you say you chose to go into hiding."
"I-I couldn't-I thought that I would not find protection-"
"From whom?" Bones asked sharply.
"Anyone," Peter gasped.
"Not Albus Dumbledore? I have never known the man to turn away a former student in need. Not the Ministry or your schoolmates? Not Remus Lupin?"
"A w-werewolf," Peter jabbered.
"Your friend!" Sirius snapped from his seat. His response was automatic, uncontrolled. Fuelled by the painful absence of the man. Bones cleared his throat pointedly.
"So you sought no protection from the people closest to you," he stated. "Mr. Pettigrew you will note that most of the remaining Death Eaters were rounded up and put in Azkaban within the first few months of the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Why not come out of hiding then?"
"I-Not all of them. Many escaped j-justice."
The atmosphere of the room noticeably thickened. Moody's beady eye narrowed. In Azkaban, news rarely reached Sirius. He wondered how many former Death Eaters evaded prison, how many slipped through the faulty justice system like eels. Were there any in this room, marks concealed by a scarlet or black sleeve? His eyes flicked over the crowd staring coolly down at the shivering mess in the chair.
"That is correct, Mr. Pettigrew," Minister Bagnold acknowledged slowly. Peter's gaze snapped to her, his knees jerking. "Too many. Perhaps due to the fault of the Ministry's own employees. But we are learning from past mistakes. Still learning." Her dark eyes traveled deliberately to Dumbledore. "Will Artifact 1-a be brought to the floor once more?"
The clerk entered the floor once more, stepping again just to the left of the imprisoning chair. The professional solemnity of the proceedings left Sirius quivering with impatience. The court was still, almost content to observe the effect of the artifact, having seen it once before. As the box's lid was again opened, Peter's expression twitched, then fractured. His mouth opened and closed like a fish desperately searching for oxygenated water.
"Priori incantato."
The thunderous boom. And this time, Sirius thought he could hear the ghostly screams of the frightened muggles. Or perhaps that was a memory.
"Is this your wand, Mr. Pettigrew?"
Peter's mouth froze in the open position, jaw unhinged. The truth was written on his face, unarticulated. "I-" he managed. "I didn't-Yes, but h-he-" He sputtered into wheezing silence.
"Mr. Pettigrew, during the events of October thirty-first and November first, 1981, did you act as a Death Eater in the service of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
Again, Peter stammered a series of unconnected syllables. "I-I was-no, I c-couldn't…" The court was still, content to watch the interrogation. Bones let Peter whither under their gaze, but Sirius was impatient. He fidgeted, feeling the hardness of the bench, the growing pain in his stomach, the fringing of darkness at the edges of his vision. This needed to be finished before he passed out. He scanned the crowd again. Then a movement in his vision, a flash of white.
The man wearing the snowy gloves had shifted, his right hand flicking a speck of dust from the sleeve of his left arm. Sirius jolted.
"Does he have the dark mark?"
He had not realized he had spoken aloud. Heads turned to him and robes rustled.
"Until today, we did not have probable cause to check," Minister Bagnold explained. "But now we certainly do. Ellis, if you would..."
One of Peter's guards moved to roll up the sleeve of Peter's left arm.
"NO!" Peter shrieked, jerking away as if the guard wielded a hot poker. "Don't-Don't touch-You don't understand, he f-forced me. I was afraid, he would have killed me!"
"Then you should have died!" Sirius shouted. It was enough of a confirmation for him. Some dark creature was clawing at his skin, begging to be set free.
"Mr. Black!"
"James and Lily are dead because of you!" he roared over the Minister. Years of rage and isolation came boiling from his mouth. "You were their friend! They trusted you!"
"Mr. Black control yourself!"
He barely heard her. His guards had a tight hold on his arms, Sirius desperately tried to jerk away, to leap over the rail separating him and the rat and strangle him. But his weakened state after Azkaban sapped him of strength. The guards wrestled him back as he blinked black spots from his eyes.
Dimly he heard Bagnold ask, "Mr. Pettigrew, are you admitting that it was you who betrayed Lily and James Potter to Voldemort?"
Peter was sweating. It beaded on his pallid forehead like grease, his eyes were wide and startled. Ellis the guard was still hovering at his left side, hands poised over the sleeve. Peter's panicked gaze flicked back and forth between Ellis, Minister Bagnold, and Sirius. But the damage had been done.
"H-he would have killed me," he repeated. His voice was several octaves higher after Sirius' outburst.
"The court will take that as a confirmation of the Minister's clarification," Mr. Bones stated. The pressure in Courtroom Ten increased. It was like being at the bottom of a vat of thickened tar. Suddenly, not a single eye in the room was turned in Sirius' direction except the electric blue of Mad-Eye's magical replacement.
"And do you admit to using the blasting curse on the street on November the first, 1981, thereby killing twelve muggles within the vicinity?"
"Y-yes. B-but it was self-defense-"
"Mr. Pettigrew," rolled Everard Bones' voice over the excuse. "Based on the testimony presented here today by Mr. Sirius Black, in combination with your own defense and the testimony of Arthur Weasley, the Wizengamot sees fit to vote on the decision to convict you of the following crimes: the betrayal of the Potters to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, murder in the first degree of twelve muggles, in so doing breaking the statute of secrecy, as well as framing an innocent man of these crimes."
Hands rose into the air. Still, the Wizengamot did not look his way, but Sirius hardly noticed. His head was spinning dizzily. He watched Peter wail with protests from the end of a blurred tunnel.
"Peter Pettigrew, you are hereby sentenced to life in Azkaban without parole." Irons were clapped on the shaking wrists. He was openly sobbing…
Then Sirius felt it. The penetrating, cold, sucking at him greedily. It was a dream. Despair crushed into the ground. His limbs went numb and the voices filled his head once more.
"Nice one, James!"
"Lily and James, Sirius, how could you?!"
"I hate you!"
Then they were abruptly drowned out by a silver light that filled his vision. A patronus. Blood rushed to his head, the room was back with startling clarity. Sirius caught only a glimpse of a dark cloak fluttering from the room as Peter was lead away by the dementors. His whimpering cries echoed through the glossy corridor.
Finally, the people of the court had their eyes fixed on him, as he trembled violently from the shock of the dementors. From the shock of knowing that he was free. The Chief Warlock had said he was an innocent man.
"Mr. Black."
He turned his gaze to Minister Bagnold with slow care. She regarded him solemnly, with a hint of shame in those dark, commanding eyes.
"You will be issued a formal apology from the Ministry of Magic and compensation amounting to four and a half years salary in your previous position as an auror, plus an additional two years. Headmaster Dumbledore has taken the liberty of setting up temporary accommodations for the next month, should you need a place to stay." Her voice was unwavering, monotonous. But then, she paused, a break in her composure.
"I realize that money will never atone for the vast miscalculation on the Ministry's part. I do not speak for the rest of the persons present, when I say this… but I am deeply sorry, Mr. Black, for your loss."
Something hard broke inside of Sirius. He managed a short nod as reality fell away. He did not have time to check again for Remus, to see if the white-gloved man was still there. An overwhelming feeling swept across his chest and he surrendered to the blessedly quiet darkness.
a/n: leave a review if you have time! It really does help me write faster :) Until next time!