Chapter Three
Bill sat frozen in his seat. Beside him Auror Mendel was whispering, "Go on, Bill. It'll be okay. Just tell them what you told me."
"Mr. Weasley?"
He shot up from his seat. The murmurs were getting louder as he approached the center of the room. Bill glanced back to the benches and saw Auror Mendel give him an encouraging nod.
When he reached the floor he didn't quite know where to stand. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"Have a seat, Mr. Weasley."
A comfortable looking blue chair appeared behind him. None of the other speakers had been provided a chair to sit in. Were they giving him preferential treatment? Bill sank into the cushions and craned his neck up to look at the highest benches. It was awfully uncomfortable. Perhaps they weren't giving him special treatment after all.
"State your full name for the Wizengamot, Mr. Weasley."
"William Arthur Weasley."
"Thank you. Our Aurors say that it was around one o'clock in the morning when the attack on the Burrow occurred. Were you sleeping at that time?"
"Um, yes sir." Bill felt confused at the line of questioning.
"What caused you to wake up?"
"I-I heard screaming. It sounded like my parents."
"That must have been very frightening. What did you think was happening?"
"I, um, I thought there was a Death Eater in the house, sir."
"What made you think that, Mr. Weasley?"
"My parents… they told me that You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters hated blood traitors like us."
A few of the members of Wizengamot frowned at that. He wondered briefly if he had said the wrong thing.
"Quite. What did you do next, Mr. Weasley?"
"I…" his eyebrows furrowed as he went over the night's events. "I put on my slippers. Dad got me a pair of those slippers that don't make a sound. He… they told me if I was in danger to put them on and leave the house."
"And why didn't you leave the house then, Mr. Weasley? What made you stay?"
His face flushed. "I… it… I knew I should've left, but I heard a sound. Like something heavy fell. I needed to know… I didn't want to leave unless I knew for sure there was a Death Eater."
"It sounded like something heavy fell?"
Bill nodded. "Yeah, and I heard someone apparating or trying to."
"What happened next?"
"I ran up the stairs and-" he choked. The mental image of his father's body flashed in his mind. Tears blurred his vision. "I saw – it was dark, and I almost tripped. I thought…" he trailed off and inhaled sharply.
"What did you see, Mr. Weasley?"
"It was my dad. He was dead." Bill refused to cry again and took another deep breath. "He wasn't bleeding or anything."
To the courtroom Mr. Crouch said, "The coroner's notes confirm this." He turned back to Bill. "Why didn't you turn back after that, Bill?"
"I heard Ron crying. There – I didn't know if my mum was alive. I needed to make sure he was okay. He's only one month, y'know."
"Where was Ron?"
"He was in his room. That's the top floor at the burrow."
"And where were you at the time?"
"Um, I was at the floor before it."
"Then what happened?"
"I ran up the stairs. I heard another thump, like something fell. I-I thought it was my mum, and-" Bill paused. "There was a laugh. I never heard someone laugh like that before. It was… it made my neck hairs stand up."
Bill paused. The Wizengamot was talking amongst themselves. A few witches and wizards were looking at Bill sympathetically. Others were had curious looks on their faces.
"Proceed."
"I ran in the room and I saw You-Know-Who. He was pointing his wand at the floor. Then I-I saw my mum on the floor. Ronnie was in her arms. You-Know-Who was pointing his wand at Ronnie."
"Did you know it was You-Know-Who at that moment, Mr. Weasley?"
"N-no. I thought it was a Death Eater. I didn't think…" Bill trailed off. "He said it. He said the killing curse."
Mr. Crouch was leaning forward in interest, as was the rest of the courtroom. "What did you see next?"
"There was a bright green light and then the room exploded. Then I fell."
"You fell?"
"The explosion made a hole in the floor."
"Did You-Know-Who fall, too?"
"Yes. When I got up, I saw him next to me. He was dead."
Bill jolted as the courtroom exploded with the sound of conversation and in some cases, applause. He looked around wide eyed. Mr. Crouch cleared his throat.
"You are sure it was the killing curse?"
"Yes sir."
"What was in the incantation?"
"Um," Bill felt nervous and looked around the room.
"It's all right to say it, Mr. Weasley. You will not get into trouble here."
"He- he said Avada Kedavra, sir."
It took a few more minutes for the courtroom to calm down after that.
"Silence!" Mr. Crouch's amplified voice echoed in the room. "What did you do after you got up from the floor, Mr. Weasley?"
"I went back upstairs."
"What made you do that?" he interrupted.
"I heard Ronnie crying, so I had to check on him."
The mutters started up again.
"So you went upstairs again?"
"Um, yes sir. I found Ronnie still in mum's arms."
"When you found him what did he look like?"
"He, um… he looked fine. There was just a cut on his forehead and it was bleeding. I cleaned it up."
"And then what did you do?"
"After that I – I called the aurors."
"What of your siblings, Mr. Weasley? Why didn't you check on them?"
Bill's stomach churned. Images flashed in his mind. The coroners' grim faces as they wheeled four small stretchers out of the Burrow. He tried to breathe. Closing his eyes he saw mops of red hair framing lifeless, terrified faces. Their eyes seemed to be accusing him. Why weren't you there to stop him, Bill?
"Mr. Weasley?"
"I-I didn't…" Bill hadn't checked on them, though. The truth was they hadn't even crossed his mind. What kind of an older brother was he? Stupid, stupid-
"Mr. Weasley, please answer the question."
"I didn't think. I didn't even think about them. All I could think about was mum and dad and Ron."
"I see." The only sound in the court was of the scribe's quill writing down their every word. "When you found your parents, were they armed with wands?"
His chest felt tight. Bill's hand went to his pocket, where the two wands seemed to burn. "Yes, sir."
Mr. Crouch frowned and shuffled through his papers. "There is no record of them being found at the crime scene."
Cheeks reddening, Bill pulled out the wands. Whispers and mumbles rang out. "I-I forgot I had them with me, sir."
The wizard stared at him, a hard look on his face. "Why did you take them from the scene, Mr. Weasley?"
It was a question that took him back to the dark house. He felt his hands begin to tremble. Why did he take those wands? "I don't know, sir." His voice cracked. "I'm sorry if I ruined the investigation. I just – I wanted to have them with me."
For a moment Bill wondered if he was in trouble. It was hard to imagine the stern looking Mr. Crouch would be lenient. He nodded, a slow movement, and leaned forward. His arm stretched toward him from the high bench, and he said, "I will be needing those wands to proceed, Mr. Weasley."
The word 'no' danced on the tip of his tongue. Why did he have to give them away? Bill looked at the wands in his hand and shook himself. He was being a baby again.
He reached out to give the wands to Mr. Crouch. Bill watched as they flew out of his hand and zoomed into the large palm of the wizard. Mr. Crouch set them down on his podium.
The interrogator looked down at Bill once more. "And finally, do you recall your parents placing any protections or enchantments on your youngest brother, or ever discussing the matter?"
Bill opened his mouth to respond and then paused. His first thought was 'no, they didn't' but then he thought of his mum. She'd once told him there was more to magic than simple wand-waving and funny words. There was magic in symbols and rituals and even in their own blood. Could there have been magic involved in the goodnight kiss he received every night before bed?
"I don't remember anything like that, sir." He finally said. "If they did, they didn't do it around me."
"Very well. Thank you, Mr. Weasley. You may take a seat."
Bill stood, his legs wobbling, and walked up the steps back to Auror Mendel. Once he took his seat, the auror placed his hand on Bill's shoulder.
"You did a great job, Bill."
"Thanks." Bill whispered back. He noted that his uncomfortable blue chair had disappeared from the floor.
"We now call Belenos Fisk to stand before the Wizengamot."
Bill jolted in surprise as the dark haired wizard made his way down the steps to the center of the room. In his hand was a beige envelope. He stood tall and resolute.
"Mr. Fisk, tell us your occupation and give us a brief description of your duties."
"I am a first-responder Healer, sir, and work in conjunction with the Auror office. I am called to crime scenes where I assess, examine, and heal the injured."
"And how long have you been working as a Healer, Mister Fisk?"
"Nearly three years, sir."
"Hm," Mr. Crouch leant back in his seat. "Earlier this morning you examined the Weasley boys, did you not?"
"Yes, sir."
"What were your findings?"
"I examined the infant – Ronald Weasley – first. The diagnostic spell showed him to be in good health. His only injury was the scar on his forehead."
Bill felt a sense of foreboding. The healer opened up the beige envelope and pulled out several photographs. Images of his baby brother floated around the room for everyone to see. His scarred forehead was on prominent display.
"And why is the scar not healed, Healer Fisk?"
"I was unable to heal it, sir."
"What are the standard treatments for healing scars, Healer Fisk?"
"There's the standard curacutemo, which heals skin afflictions within seconds. If that doesn't work we move on to teravathisto, which is a stronger healing spell that works on deeper tissues. Neither worked."
"Is it common for these spells to fail for seemingly normal scars?"
"No, sir. It's most unusual."
"What did you do next?"
"I used a spot of Widdlewix's Krema, a healing paste that works to heal the skin. I thought perhaps the dark wizard had used a rare hex or jinx that prevents standard healing spells from working."
"And what were your findings?"
"Obviously it didn't work." Healer Fisk pointed at the next set of circulating photographs floating in the air. "I was flummoxed, to say the least. There are only six St. Mungo's approved methods of healing scars."
"What are the other three?"
"Well, the other two are strong potions and only approved for use on adults. The other is a form of transfiguration. For newborns the risks outweigh the potential benefits."
"Are there methods not approved by St. Mungo's to heal scars?"
The healer frowned at the question. "There's a whole list of them, sir. Any spell not explicitly used to heal scars are not approved. New spells and potions that haven't gone through a trial period aren't approved, either."
"What about phoenix tears?"
"Undiluted phoenix tears?" The healer's eyebrows shot upward. "I don't believe that is on either list, sir."
"And why is that? I believe it is common knowledge that phoenix tears have healing properties."
"That they do. However due to the rarity of the creature, using undiluted tears would be wasteful. When the tears are available they are always used to make a large batch of healing potions. They are incredibly potent and using them undiluted would have to be approved by the Head of St. Mungo's."
"I see. Let us go back to Ronald Weasley. You used three St. Mungo's approved methods to heal his scar and they all failed. What conclusion did you draw from this?"
Healer Fisk cleared his throat. "Without testing the other three methods of scar healing I couldn't be sure, but my conclusion was that it was caused by a powerful curse."
"What kind of curse?"
"The kind of curse that isn't mentioned in Bone's Anatomy," Healer Fisk replied. "Of course there are several curses that can lacerate the skin and create any shape or symbol. But there are no common curses in the books that cannot be healed by the six methods we previously mentioned."
"You've heard Mr. William Weasley's witness account. He claims to have heard the Killing Curse being used against Ronald Weasley. What do you make of this?"
"Well," he coughed into his fist. "I actually did consider the Killing Curse after my examination of the infant."
Whispers broke out.
Mr. Crouch gave him a sharp look. "What made you even consider the thought, Healer Fisk, when it has been proven time and time again that there's no method to protect oneself or survive from the Killing Curse?"
"The scar is the exact replica of the wand movement for the Killing Curse, sir, which is why I considered it." He seemed to be bracing himself. "We do not know of a way to shield ourselves from this unforgiveable curse, but that does not make it impossible. Perhaps Ronald Weasley will lead us to the discovery of such a protection."
In the high stands the members of The Wizengamot had broken out into commotion. Bill saw a few older wizards shaking their heads in disbelief. Others looked excited at the prospect of evading the dreaded curse.
Mr. Crouch's voice increased in volume, "Be that as it may, Healer Fisk, just because the scar appears similar to the wand movement does not mean it was caused by that curse."
"Of course, sir. As I said early there are a myriad of curses that can cause skin lacerations. But all of those are easily remedied with healing spells or potions. I did not say it was the Killing Curse that created Ronald Weasley's scar, but we cannot rule it out entirely either."
"I have no further questions for you, Healer Fisk. You may sit."
As Healer Fisk walked back up the steps he met Bill's eye. The wizard's lips quirked up into a small smile and he nodded at him.
"We have one final speaker. We call Garrick Ollivander to stand before the Wizengamot."
Bill watched the wizard with silvery eyes in interest. Everyone knew who Mr. Ollivander was. He noted a few wizards in the benches incline their head toward him in respect. Bill remembered his dad's story about going to Ollivander's for the first time to get his wand. It had taken his dad three tries before he found the wand meant for him.
"Mr. Ollivander, how long have you been in the business of wand crafting?"
"Oh, it has been over fifty years."
"Mr. Ollivander, I would like you to identify this wand in my hand." Mr. Crouch pulled a wand from his robes.
"Of course," Mr. Ollivander said. "Cedar and dragon heart string, fourteen inches, sold to Bartemius Crouch in 1950."
"I can confirm that those are the specifications of my wand. Does the Wizengamot need further evidence of Mr. Ollivander's ability to identify wands?"
There was no response.
"All right, Mr. Ollivander. We would like you to identify the wand in this photograph for the court."
An image floated into the air. It was a bone-white colour, the handle intricately carved.
"Ah," Mr. Ollivander stared at the wand for a few moments. "Yew and phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches. This was sold to Tom Marvolo Riddle in 1938. A very powerful wand…"
"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Mr. Crouch mumbled. "Did you get that, Silverman?" He asked the scribe who was scribbling madly on her parchment. She nodded so vigorously that her glasses nearly fell off her face. Mr. Crouch turned back to the wandmaker.
"Mr. Ollivander, in your opinion, does the deceased dark wizard look anything like the young Thomas Riddle who purchased the wand?"
Everyone looked at the wandmaker expectantly. "It appears that Mr. Riddle has gotten himself involved in magic that has… changed his appearance drastically. However," he raised his voice as the Wizengamot began speaking amongst themselves. "However, those are the same eyes I encountered all those years ago at my store, of that I have no doubt."
"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander, you may sit."
At the high benches the members of Wizengamot were still talking to one another. A few of the older members were pale, as if something terrible had just been revealed. Some were shaking their heads in anger. One old witch had crossed her arms and was shaking her head.
"What's going on, Auror Mendel?" Bill whispered.
"The Wizengamot is trying to form a conclusion about You-Know-Who." Auror Mendel met his eyes. "The evidence makes it clear that he's dead. But they still need to make a formal announcement."
Bill nodded, biting his lip. "What's going to happen to Ronnie and me?"
There was uncertainty in the auror's blue eyes. "I won't lie to you, Bill. I don't know what's going to happen."
At that moment Mr. Crouch cleared his throat and there was silence in the courtroom. "Based on the evidence come to light, the Wizengamot has come to agreement that the Dark Wizard V-v-voldemort is indeed dead. This hearing has concluded."
The volume in the courtroom rose as witches and wizards stood up from the benches. There were a few cheers and several witches and wizards were hugging one another. An elderly man had tears running down his face.
Bill looked around, unsure of what to do. He turned to Auror Mendel just in time to see a paper airplane fly into the man's hands. The auror frowned and opened up the parchment.
Thelonius,
There will be a private hearing to discuss the placement of William and Ronald Weasley in my office at one o'clock sharp. Bring William with you.
Do not be late.
Eugene Gregorian
Head of the Auror Office
