Author's Note: I don't know if you guys get updated when I replace a chapter, but if yes, you don't have to bother rereading. It's just some minor grammatical and spelling corrections I missed because I'm lazy. Carry on!
Filius Flitwick needed a good stiff drink. He had never been one to overindulge - at least not since he was quite a bit younger - but the past year had did a number on his resolve. He had met the end of each increasingly long and difficult day with a generous glass of firewhiskey. Just one, mind you, as even though he bought into the benefits of beverage therapy, he could not afford to lose his wits during those tense times.
He had been allowed to remain an instructor at Hogwarts after Voldemort's rise to power, probably thanks to Severus, but his partial goblin ancestry gave him no latitude with the Dark Lord's prejudiced followers. Filius' Darker colleagues like the Carrows had treated him as a slightly more intelligent House Elf, which he obviously found degrading, but he was not head of Ravenclaw house for no reason; Filius had always been an excellent strategist thanks to being a national wizard chess champion, and back in the day he had been quite the thespian. He played the role the Death Eaters gave him and he did a smashing job of it, because it allowed him to stay at Hogwarts, and try to help his students however he could.
And if he needed a bit of drink each evening to get him through the next day, Filius did not think that to be so bad.
So after that horrible brutal battle which he miraculously survived, all Filius wanted was a toast of celebration and memorial with his surviving colleagues and to finally feel safe and content among his friends and comrades.
He had been seeking out Minerva to do just that, only to find out one of his own Ravenclaw students had been accused of murder! And Padma Patil, of all people! He had nearly shattered a perfectly good bottle of firewhiskey when he found out if not for his excellent magical reflexes.
Of course Filius did not believe the accusation. He had known Padma for almost seven years! She had always been such a dear girl; never a bad word said against her or against others from her own lips. A bit shy and quiet to be sure, but an exceptional student with quite a lot of potential. Filius wasn't supposed to have favorites among his students (of course all the professors did), but he had always had a soft spot for Padma. She was not capable of murder.
...at least, that's what Filius kept trying to convince himself. Sitting in the headmistress' office listening to Madam Pomfrey's damning testimony and Zacharias' biased but unfortunately consistent account, he remembered everyone he used to think were good people that had committed unspeakable acts during this second war. He thought of himself, a professor of Hogwarts and loyal friend of the late Albus Dumbledore, tempted many a time in the past year to use Dark magic in the name of Light.
He had managed to resist the temptation… Except once. He had encountered Amycus Carrow tormenting a terrified half blood first year late at night. Filius had of course intervened, only for Carrow to try to force him to perform the Cruciatus curse on the child. Filius had looked into those tear-filled eyes, and without hesitating he cast the Imperius curse on Amycus and forced the Death Eater to leave the child alone before erasing his memory of the night's events.
Filius had always believed he would never willingly perform an Unforgivable curse or erase someone's memories. But in less than five minutes, he did both.
He thought of that night now as he sat in row with Minerva, Kingsley, and Hestia preparing to decide the fate of a girl he thought was incapable of murder. After this past year, Filius wasn't sure he knew himself anymore... so how could he claim to know Padma?
Filius felt quite bleak as they began to call in the character witnesses, starting with Cho Chang. Interacting with the young woman did not help this feeling, Cho had not been dissimilar to Padma in the early years of her schooling: smart, sweet, and lovely. She had always been very confident and self-assured but without being arrogant or vain, she had a elegant restraint about her reminiscent of her mother, Xiaoli Chang née Song, whom Filius had the pleasure of encountering on occasion before the rise of the Dark Lord.
But ever since the tragic death of rising star Cedric Diggory, Cho's own light had seemed to dim. The girl he saw now after three years of heartache and hardship was a timid, fearful girl who barely spoke above a whisper and constantly glanced over her shoulder. There were flashes of her former brilliance, moments where she seemed as brave and bright as she had always been, but they always quickly faded.
As Kingsley's deep and gentle voice coaxed answers from Cho like Hagrid trying to soothe an orphaned unicorn foal, Filius gave his student encouraging smiles and nods whilst trying to hide his growing sadness and guilt. It was not his fault, these past years of unrest; as a logical man Filius knew that to be fact, but emotions are notoriously illogical and Filius (along with many other professors and parents he knew) felt an abstract sense of self-directed anger and regret that he hadn't recognized the signs earlier or taken more action sooner or just done something to prevent this… tragedy beyond adequate description.
Filius resolutely pushed those irrational thoughts away. This was no time to dwell in the bitterness of hindsight; this right here and now was not about him. It was about Padma, and Parvati. He could wallow in blame and alcohol later.
Neville's testimony was quite the opposite experience from Cho. Rather than witnessing the diminishing of a strong young woman into a frightened creature with a weakened disposition, he now got to see a young man once feared to be a squib now a strong and powerful wizard and leader in his own right. Filius was quite conflicted. He was fair to bursting with pride for who Neville had become, but deeply remorseful that it was the failings of the government, his generation, and even himself that had forced the transformation of a once sweet and mild-mannered boy into a fearsome, battle-hardened, and world-wearied soldier.
But even as Neville's curses and condemnations fell upon Filius and his peers like increasingly painful blows, he took comfort in the hope that sprouted in his heart. Perhaps there was meaning to all this tragedy beyond the final defeat of Voldemort, if it brought about something as seemingly small but still unmeasurably significant as Neville's newfound fire.
Now, Filius had never claimed to be a seer, but as he sat there under a wave of grief and remorse brought on by Neville's righteous anger, he gazed into the boy - no, the man's clear green eyes blazing bright in a bruised face, and for just half of a heartbeat he could see an older and happier Neville. His hands were darkened from years of gardening, a wedding band gleamed on his left ring finger, he was wearing the robes of a Hogwarts professor and a confident, content smile glowed on his matured face.
The vision was gone as soon as it came, stealing Filius' breath and bringing tears to his eyes. Maybe it was nothing more than the wistful meanderings of an old man's tired mind, but he clung to that vision of Neville - that vision of hope, of happiness, of a future - and held on for all he was worth.
There was hope for Neville. He had to believe there was also hope for Padma.
"Your turn, Luna."
Padma and Luna looked up at the sound of Neville's voice. He looked emotionally and physically exhausted, but his eyes were calm. Padma thought it odd how she had never noticed the fear that always lurked in his gaze until it was finally gone. The peace she saw now, tinged with sorrow, slowly growing like the first rays of dawn after a starless night, brought her both feelings of comfort and envy. Neville had fought his battle, and won. Padma was glad for him but the contrast he provided made her realize her battle was perhaps only beginning.
Luna smiled at him and rose gracefully with one last gentle touch to Padma's wrist. "I'll be right back." She said airily, as if she was simply off to the loo. Padma's lips turned up slightly at the thought of Luna treating something as serious as a murder trial like a trip to the toilet. Only Luna could do such a thing tastefully, if it were possible.
As the blonde quite literally skipped away, Padma's gaze naturally returned to Neville, only to find him gazing after Luna with an almost dazed expression on his face. Padma's eyebrows shot up. She recognized that look. She had seen it on many boys left unbalanced in the wake of Parvati's dazzling beauty and wicked flirtations.
A laugh escaped her quite suddenly. Startled, Neville glanced back at Padma and promptly turned bright red as he realized he had been caught mooning after Luna. But to his credit and growth, he didn't stutter or deny, he simply grinned sheepishly and shrugged helplessly. "What can I say? I'm mad for her." He admitted easily, simply happy to be the cause of Padma's brief good humor even at the cost of his own embarrassment.
Padma decided to indulge in this delightfully adorable distraction. "Have you told her?" She asked.
Neville took Luna's place beside her and shook his head ruefully. "Hasn't been a lot of time."
Padma rolled her eyes at him. "Right, it's not like you were locked in room with her for half a year."
Neville fiddled awkwardly with the edge of her sleeve. "Well, actually, I don't think I liked her - er, in that way - when we were all in the Room of Requirement. Then she disappeared over the winter holidays, and well… I missed her and was nearly mad with worry for her, but I was preoccupied with other things."
The poor man looked so guilty, Padma wished she had never asked. She remembered all too clearly everything that Neville had done for Dumbledore's Army and really the Wizarding World as a whole, including risking his life over and over. "Like keeping yourself and the rest of us alive." She offered gently. "Don't blame yourself, Neville. I know Luna doesn't."
Her words didn't seem to comfort him. Instead he looked positively wretched. "I wanted to go after her so badly." He finally burst out, Padma blinking in surprise as more words tumbled out. "I wanted to go after all of them, really, Luna and Dean and the everyone else. But I was never brave… I was never the hero who swooped in and rescued the damsel. That was always Harry. But Harry wasn't here to rescue us, and someone had to, so I took over and then I couldn't rescue Luna because I couldn't leave Hogwarts and the DA to fend for themselves and... well, I'm sorry I ever envied Harry." Neville abruptly ended his babbled confession with a short, humorless laugh. "I maybe only experienced a tenth of the burden he's carried his whole life, and I could barely survive it." Neville sighed heavily and ran a hand through his already-tousled hair. "Still can't believe I survived at all, really."
Padma was quite speechless. She had known Neville for years, even if from afar, and had no idea he ever envied Harry. Perhaps at the beginning of this terrible year, everyone had wished Harry was there to help them revolt against Snape and the Carrows, herself included. But it was promptly very apparent that Harry wasn't coming back anytime soon, and Neville had so quickly stepped up and taken charge - quite frankly in a way Harry never had, making the war a community effort rather than a burden to carry alone, that all thoughts of Harry fled their minds beyond wishing for the scarred boy's safety and eventual return.
"Hmm." She finally said aloud. "I don't think you should have ever envied Harry, in fact I think he should envy you." Neville glanced at her, incredulous. "No, really," She insisted, warming to the topic as memories of Neville's selfless courage and compassion flooded her brain, numbing her own torment. "You were there for all of us in a way Harry never was. Harry was always so secretive and strange, keeping things to himself… with the exception of Ron and Hermione, maybe. I don't know how he handled being the Chosen One all alone all those years. Maybe that's because that's all he's ever known, being an orphan and all." She reasoned, trying not to sound tactless. Neville didn't seem offended on Harry's behalf, indeed he was listening intently, so she went on.
"Seems to me like it would have been a lot easier to defeat all those creatures and villains he faced if he had more help. As brilliant as Hermione is and as brave as Ron is, that must have been so hard." Padma was quick to add, "Obviously, they did it and did it quite heroically, but…" here her voice quite small as she felt words rising to her lips that she had never given to the air. Once said, she could never take them back. Only Neville's kind and curious face kept her speaking.
"...sometimes I wonder if maybe not so many people would have died, if Harry had more help sooner."
The words were barely above a whisper, but they seemed so deafeningly loud that Padma physically shrank away and peeked carefully at Neville for his reaction.
Her friend (Padma would never remember this as the moment she began to consciously think of Neville as her friend, as it had been so gradual and natural it was as if they had always been friends. War can forge the most unusual of bonds) didn't look furious or horrified, in fact he didn't even look surprised. Instead, he sagged as if under a great weight, and the peace in his eyes twisted like an angry ghost was haunting them. Padma immediately felt terrible for bringing him any pain and opened her mouth to apologize or retract her statement, anything, but he spoke before she could.
"Sometimes I wonder that too." The words were also whispered, and anchored with chains of guilt and grief that echoed deeply of anger and bitterness. They hung in the air and wrapped around the pair of people suspended between childhood and adulthood, and as long as they existed in the air neither of them could speak.
Oddly enough, it was the Ravenclaw who worked up the courage to speak first, rather than the Gryffindor. "I meant what I said before, Neville." Padma said softly and sincerely, not quite comfortable enough to offer him physical touch as comfort, but warming her voice to hopefully bring the same feeling. "Don't blame yourself. You did everything you could and more, and so did Harry, for good or for ill. You can't change how it was done, but you can change your life moving forward. I think you deserve to make those changes good ones."
Neville smiled crookedly at her, eyes once again calm. "Thanks Padma. I think you deserve that too… even though Parvati is gone now."
Padma swallowed hard as her determination to make Neville feel better was threatened by the tumult inside of her. She managed to nod, but it felt mechanical. She wanted to take his words to heart, but the grief was too fresh. Logically, she knew he was right and that she would have to move on and live her life as best she could, but nothing was logical anymore now that Parvati was gone. The future, happiness, life beyond this ludicrous patchwork quilt of a murder trial... it all seemed like such abstract faraway things. Like looking at a photograph of a place you've visited before. She knew how she used to feel when she was there, but it was more memory than truth now.
This thought was quickly followed by the brutal battering ram of a realization that Parvati was now more memory than truth.
Padma blinked away tears and desperately grabbed back for that sense of purpose speaking to Neville about Luna had given her. "You know, I could put in a good word for you with Luna." She tossed out, the attempt at friendly banter falling clunky and awkward between them.
But Neville graciously allowed her the escape from more serious conversation and chuckled readily at her lame humor. "Please, be my guest, if you can find a way to spin the reality of a bumbling fool of wizard who was never good at magic beyond herbology, who didn't rescue her from captivity, got himself set on fire with a magic hat and the only real heroic act he ever did was turning a bloody snake into sushi with a magic sword."
Padma couldn't help it, she laughed, but quickly rebuffed his self-deprecating rant. "Don't you dare speak of yourself that way, Neville Longbottom!" She commanded him sternly despite the amused smirk on her lips. "Any girl would be lucky to have you! You are brave and loyal and a leader! You are kind and heroic and bloody brilliant at magic and the best friend anyone could ask for! And I think you looked quite handsome in that hat even though you were being incinerated and as for the sushi -" she paused, then finished with an impish grin, "Girls love a bloke that can cook."
Neville blinked at her in shock, then his lips trembled and they both fell apart in helpless laughter. They laughed perhaps more than necessary for the jest itself, but it was definitely necessary for their beleaguered souls. If she had been paying any attention, Padma would have felt her heart heal just the slightest bit, simply by engaging in a good laugh with a good friend.
"You sounded so much like Parvati in that moment it was right scary." Neville said as his merriment faded, a smile still full on his face. "But I don't think even Parvati was ever that clever - 'girls love a bloke who can cook', honestly." Then his face froze in horror as he realized he was talking to the surviving twin of the dead girl he had just so casually thrown into the conversation.
Padma could not honestly say that his comment didn't salt her wounds, but she bravely ignored the feeling and just nodded with an understanding, forgiving smile in his direction.
Bolstered by her reaction, Neville added mischievously. "I fancied your sister for awhile, you know."
This was news to Padma. "Really?"
He nodded. "Really." He confirmed. "How could I not? I think every bloke in the school fancied her at one time or another, but she hardly gave anyone the time of day. This last year though… it was really something, watching her become such a fighter. She was positively bewitching. I've never seen someone so bold and brave." They both took a moment to grieve at the memory his words caused, Padma more deeply and completely than Neville, who could continue after just a second of silence while Padma was still struggling to breathe. "But it was more of an admiration from afar, really. I don't think I ever gave up on Luna to really fully fancy someone else, and Parvati was always more into Seamus I think."
Padma was startled at the name. "Seamus," she breathed, remembering her sister gradually confiding her growing feelings for the daredevil Irish boy with the roguish grin and loud unapologetic opinions. No one had ever made Parvati as utterly furious as that boy, which was how Padma knew that this crush was different. Parvati had never cared enough about a boy to be so angry before.
In her own sudden onslaught of all-consuming grief at Parvati's death, she had not once stopped to think about how anyone could be feeling. "Seamus… is he…"
"He's alive." Neville assured her, and maybe also himself. "The bloke has blown himself up so many times Voldemort himself probably wouldn't have been able to kill him," he muttered with the same admiring exasperation that Padma had felt when Parvati was being reckless. "He's like a bloody cockroach."
Padma snorted at the description. Then she sobered again. "I'm sure she would have told me, but did they ever…" she trailed off, unsure of how to finish the thought.
Neville turned a particularly vivid shade of pink. "Um - er - I don't think - well, that is -" he coughed and looked away.
Padma's sharp mind quickly caught up to where his thoughts had gone and she promptly blushed too. "Oh! Gods, Neville, no, that is not what I meant." She rushed to correct him, utterly mortified and slightly disgusted at thinking of her own twin having an amorous affair with Seamus Finnigan, the boy who had once spit-balled Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans into her hair. "I just meant did they, I don't know, at least confess to each other? Did they ever get to be more than friends?"
"Ah," Neville said in a greatly relieved voice. "Er, no, I don't think so. In fact, I'm pretty positive they never got that far in their feelings, or Seamus would have been bloody unbearable to live with. He could hardly shut up about her as it was, I can't imagine what it would have been like if they were actually an item."
"Yeah," Padma agreed. "They would have been all over each other." Her sisterly revulsion at the thought quickly faded into an inexplicable sadness, because now Parvati and Seamus would never get to see what they might have become. Padma was almost entirely sure Parvati hadn't been in love with Seamus, but she definitely could have reached that point. She never got to experience her first love. Padma thought, again fighting back tears. If Parvati, the most loving and lovable person who had ever existed, never got to share her heart with someone, what hope was there for the rest of the world?
Neville must have gone down a similar path in his thoughts for he was staring at the floor in sympathetic, frustrated sorrow. "I guess they thought they had more time." He muttered.
"So did I."
The words left Padma before she could think them, but the utter and despairing truth in them broke her apart, and she gasped out a single sob before it was too painful even to cry. She was crippled by her grief in that moment.
Neville didn't try to hug her or even touch her, but he stayed there with her until her body slowly unclenched and her shoulders stopped shaking from the force of her crying spasms. "You should tell Luna." Her voice came out like gravel but she forced the words from her ribcage, convinced of their utmost importance.
Neville didn't tease or deny, he simply nodded gravely. "I will." He vowed, but it was more than simply a promise to speak to their friend about his feelings for her, though Padma didn't know this. It was a promise not to take time with people for advantage anymore, it was a promise not to squander his possible happiness because of fear. Maybe Luna wasn't his forever happiness, but she was worth it to try, and so was he.
After a few minutes of somber silence, Neville ventured to speak again. "Seamus is… he's taking Parvati's death pretty hard. Maybe you ought to speak to him about it. He might understand better than most of us; besides you, of course, he might have cared the most about Parvati."
Padma was briefly and irrationally gripped by anger at the thought of anyone coming remotely close to feeling what she felt for her sister, but she quickly squashed that feeling as that warm and gentle whisper flickered inside her. Parvati would want her to talk to Seamus, so she would. Maybe it would help after all.
"I will." She echoed Neville's earlier words, though they lacked the same gravity. "If I don't end up in Azkaban for murdering her." In the sudden shocked silence that followed her muttered statement, like the moment after a door being slammed shut, Padma wondered if she had actually lost her mind or just lost control of her tongue. Words seemed to be traipsing straight from her heart off her lips and into the air without stopping to check with her brain first.
Maybe it wasn't just her heart that broke. Maybe Parvati's death broke her brain too.
"Don't. Say. That." Neville nearly snarled, his voice startling in its vehemence to the point of being frightening. "You're not going to Azkaban because you're innocent." There wasn't even a hint of doubt in his statement. Padma was overcome with emotion, feeling utterly undeserving of his loyalty. Then, much quieter but no less forceful, he said, "I'm not losing another friend."
"But," Padma nearly swallowed her tongue to stop the next words from getting out, but more from surprise as pale blonde curls flashed in her field of vision.
But what if I'm not innocent?
"Luna!" Neville's voice was immediately so bright and warm, Padma was one hundred percent convinced Luna had to already know about his feelings for her. One could call Luna many things, but oblivious was not one of them (not to people that knew her anyway).
But Luna merely smiled in that playful yet serene way of hers and said, "Hello Neville. It was very kind of you to stay with Padma while I was gone. I knew you would, of course, you're a very kind person. But it's still nice to see my hopes confirmed."
Neville grinned.
"...you're like seeing a Crumple-Horned Snorkack in person." Luna finished grandly.
Padma quickly pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, more at Luna's non sequitur than her belief in probably imaginary animals. But Neville didn't look the least bit amused or befuddled as people often were by Luna. Instead he was beaming like he had just personally received the House Cup.
"I'm honored to be compared to your favorite magical creature." He said, to Luna and Padma's surprise. "But when you find one, you'll probably be disappointed that I don't measure up." He joked.
Luna blinked. "When?"
"Well, sure," Neville shrugged easily. "Of course you're going to find one and prove it's existence. You're going to be the best wizarding naturalist that ever existed. You probably already are."
Padma watched with delight as Luna's large silvery eyes slowly widened until they nearly took up all of her small thin face. She was looking at Neville as if she were seeing a Crumple-Horned Snorkack for the very first time. Neville's goofy smile faded slightly into something a little bit nervous and hopeful.
"Thank you Neville." Luna said in a small voice that sounded less dreamy than ever before. Then the wonderment left her features, replaced by thoughtfulness, and she said something rather unusual (even for her). "I probably won't find one someday. I'm rather smart," she said without an ounce of conceit, "and I think that Daddy made up Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. But I think it's good to believe in things you will never be able to prove. Otherwise no one would have any faith at all, and that's no way to live. So.. even if they most likely aren't, I think I'll go on believing they're real." She finished in that matter-of-fact way that was always more profound than dramatic declarations.
Neville smiled at her. "Well I'm real." He offered.
Luna stared at him, speechless for once. Then the dreamiest smile Padma had ever seen on her drifted across her face like a butterfly coming to rest on a flower.
Padma could practically hear Parvati squealing at their collective adorableness, and she felt her sister's absence as tangibly as the still-unhealed wound in her side. It was awfully strange that the moment she missed Parvati the most desperately so far was also in the happiest moment since her death.
Is this how it will be from now on? Padma thought dreadfully, trying not to make a single sound or facial expression so as not to ruin her friends' moment of revelation. Any future happiness of mine will always be tainted by your absence, Vati?
She didn't know what she expected, but it certainly wasn't for Parvati to respond, in more of a feeling than a sound.
No. Not always. Just until you know that you are strong enough to be happy without me.
Padma didn't feel like crying. She just felt hollow. I don't think I'll ever be strong enough to be without you, Vati.
You already are.
Then the feeling was gone, leaving Padma colder than before.
"Oh, Luna," Neville was saying, a pink tinge to his cheeks from something much different than embarrassment. "Um, how did it go in there?" He said with a quick glance to gauge Padma's reaction to his question. She kept her face neutral but also turned her eyes to Luna in inquiry.
"Quite well." Luna responded as if speaking about the weather and not Padma's fate. "I was able to make a Floo Call."
"Floo Call?" Neville repeated blankly. Padma shared his confusion but said nothing.
"Oh, yes." Luna said with a smile that was almost devious. "Headmistress McGonagall was very nice to let me use her fire, and she asked me to tell you to please come in, Padma." She added with an encouraging smile. "I thought they ought to wait a little bit, since they've made you wait so long out here, but now I think it's time for you to go."
Padma somehow found herself on her feet, facing in the right direction, but then she was completely paralyzed. She had forgotten how to speak. Her mouth felt like sand and her lungs felt like stone. Her body felt like glass, like any sudden or wrong movement would shatter her. She almost wished that were the case. Then she would be dead, with Parvati, and not here, standing alone on the precipice of her salvation, or her doom.
Fluttering warmth, like a candle flame or a firefly. Don't be so melodramatic, Addie. You're not going to die, and you're not alone.
Somehow, Padma knew Parvati's voice wasn't speaking of herself. Padma turned and met Luna and Neville, who were living and breathing and there. Neville looked grave, but Luna looked quite unconcerned. "It's okay, Padma, you can go. Just remember, whatever you say in there, that doesn't fully define what happens next. We've all spoken for you too, so whatever happens, you're not alone."
Those words, Parvati's and Luna's echoed in her skull in a hissing whisper that twisted into dizzying, frightening laughter that plucked at Padma's frayed edges and threatened to unravel her.
You're not alone.
Author's Note: I would like to address some questions I've gotten in reviews. The reason why Padma is not asking for veritaserum or a pensieve is because A) as explained in a previous chapter, Voldemort's regime used veritaserum excessively and there is now a shortage of the potion and the ingredients. B) also explained in another chapter, Shacklebolt is trying to avoid making the same post-war legal mistakes that previous ministers made which resulted in criminals going free and innocents going to Azkaban *cough cough Sirius Black*. And C) Padma doesn't know what a pensieve is. Harry didn't know what one was until Dumbledore told him, so I'm willing to bet pensieves and memory retrieval is not common procedure for the wizarding judicial system - probably a secret from the public, like Time Turners, which Dumbledore also possessed (the old guy seemed to have a habit of hoarding potentially useful magical items away from the Ministry to then dole out to those he deemed worthy… an understandable habit given Fudge's incompetence, but I think it devolved into unnecessary and possibly harmful paranoia and secrecy).
But my main reason for doing Padma's trial this way is that it's an interesting writing challenge, taking away the convenience of pensieves and veritaserum and examining how a magical wartime society without an active and reliable government body would handle having to conduct the trial of a minor accused of murder the Muggle way - relying only on witness accounts and the evidence that can be gathered. That is how our judicial system works. In the absence of an abundance of concrete evidence, we have to rely on people to tell the truth and make the right decisions. People with faulty memories, morals, and motives.
P.S. I'll say it for all of us - when will she be done writing the trial? Excellent question. Wish I had an answer. I hope it's not too tedious yet and I'm still keeping you interested.
