Chapter 25:

Legitimate Questions

"Good morning, Mr. Lupin," Sam Cresswell said. "Glad you could make it."

Teddy didn't answer.

Sam had apparently expected this, as he didn't press for answer. "You must be getting used to this room, having had an inquiry about illegal magic use here only two weeks ago. But of course, there was no real consequence to that. Not for the likes of you, at any rate."

"There was a perfectly legal fine," Teddy said. "Did you plan to ask a question?"

"We have a lot in common, you and I," Sam told him. "Both of our families ruined in the war, both of us with fathers whose lives were destroyed by Death Eaters long before being killed by them. My father was destroyed by Runcorn. Turned him over to higher ranking Death Eaters. Please remind the Wizengamot who ruined your father."

"My father wasn't ruined."

Sam laughed. "Ah. Of course. He had a delightful life. Why was he unable to find and keep jobs?"

"I object," Hermione said. "For heaven's sake, what on Earth has that to do with anything?"

Sam turned to the Minister. "I'll connect the dots."

Kingsley ground his teeth and said, "Do so quickly, Mr. Cresswell."

Sam nodded. "Very well. Mr. Lupin, explain what condition made it difficult for your father to keep a job."

"He was a werewolf," Teddy said, grudgingly.

"And who made him a werewolf?"

"You know who did."

"Humor me."

"Fenrir Greyback."

"And where is Fenrir Greyback now?"

"He's dead."

Sam nodded. "Yes. Do you believe in hell, Lupin?"

"Yes."

"So do I. And you did a marvelous job sending Greyback there. We'd been chasing him for most of the year, but you dispatched him in a night. Good show."

"Greyback was an immediate threat," Teddy said.

"Yes, but tell me... did it feel good to kill him? Were you angry? Did you give him a chance to escape?"

"It was a fight," Teddy told him tightly.

"I read the report. There was quite a huge gap in it - the part that explained exactly how he died."

"It wasn't missing. I've seen it. I took him behind a fireplace, where we fought. He went back through without activating the Floo, and was killed."

"And what happened before that? What did you say? What did you do?"

"That's quite enough," Kingsley said. "Unless you have something pertinent to your own case, Mr. Cresswell, I suggest you move on from this topic."

"It's all pertinent to my case, Minister Shacklebolt. After all, Lupin and I both got our revenge on the men who ruined our fathers. I want the members to hear why we did it. The reasons are the same. And yet, Lupin is free to come here and testify."

"That's absurd," Hermione said, rising. "Minister, I move that this be stricken from the record. Fenrir Greyback was strong, gathering followers, and had already killed several people in the course of his escape. He was determined to kill or turn Mr. Lupin. There is no comparison to be made to the cold-blooded slaughter of an elderly man who had already served his full sentence in Azkaban."

"The full sentence wasn't enough!" Sam cried. "He was free again. My father was dead, and Runcorn was free. Tell me, Lupin, how was that fair?"

"It wasn't," Teddy said. "There was nothing fair about it."

Sam blinked, apparently somewhat surprised by this answer. "So you agree."

"That your father shouldn't have died? Or been turned in? Of course I agree. My grandfather shouldn't have been murdered the same night. But I didn't go around looking for people to kill to make up for it, and even if I had, it wouldn't make it fair. Nothing's going to make it fair or right. Particularly chopping an old man up and hanging him by his ankles across Knockturn Alley. That's just going to make it worse. You've ruined your father for a second time by saying you're doing it in his name."

Sam grimaced, then waved his hand and said, "I have no further questions." He sat down.

Hermione said, "I have no further questions."

"Very well," Kingsley said. "Mr. Lupin, you are released. You may remain in the gallery, should you choose to do so."

Teddy nodded, and let a bailiff lead him to a seat, while another announced that the Wizengamot now called Miss Ruth Scrimgeour. The door opened, and Ruthless was led in. She looked paler and more subdued than usual. While she was sworn in, Teddy looked at Sam, who was rather expressionless, then at his guards and his advocate. All three were witches. He hadn't paid much attention to this before - it wasn't unusual - but now, something tried to make a connection in his mind. It missed. But he did note that the advocate was staring rather moonily at Sam, which might explain why she was letting him do as he pleased.

Hermione questioned Ruth first, focusing on the early investigation of the murders, and Sam's behavior as an Auror. Finally, she said, "Miss Scrimgeour, you were Mr. Cresswell's alibi. You gave statements that he was with you on the occasion of the second murder. Please explain to this body why you gave that statement."

"It was what I remembered," Ruthless said. "As it turns out, Sam knew a bit more Herbology than we were aware of. Mallowsweet creates false memories, based on something that's been suggested. My flat was filled with it." She stood up, squaring her shoulders, and said, "It was all through my sheets. The bastard gave me an idea of what I'd remember, and I remembered it well enough to give him his alibi."

"Very well, thank you, Miss Scrimgeour," Hermione said.

Sam rose. "Hello, Ruthie," he said. "You look good enough to eat, and I remember how good you taste."

"Sod off."

"Mr. Cresswell," Kingsley said, "you will remember where you are. This is not neither a pub nor a Quidditch locker room. You will treat Miss Scrimgeour with respect."

"I always give Ruth what she wants," he said. "Don't I, Ruthie?"

Ruthless pressed her lips together, then looked up to where Teddy was sitting. He gave her an encouraging smile, and she said, "I want to get this over with before my hair turns gray," she told Sam. "Go on - we both know you can be a lot quicker."

"Miss Scrimgeour," Kingsley said, "I give you the same advice."

"Sorry."

Sam waited for a slight titter in the gallery to fade away, then said, with exaggerated formality, "Miss Scrimgeour, did you or did you not tell me, in the wake of Runcorn's murder" - he made a show of pulling out a scroll - "'Looks like someone took out our rubbish for us'?"

"That was just - "

"It's a yes or no question."

Ruthless glared at him, then said, "Yes."

"Why would you say such a thing?"

"It was... I was... Oh, all right, Runcorn was a piece of rubbish. That didn't stop me from wanting to find out who murdered him. Even rubbish oughtn't be tortured and mutilated."

"How pious of you," Sam said dryly. "Do you remember a case we worked on - it was your first - involving a wizard called Thaddeus Kenyon?"

"Yes."

"Explain the case to the Wizengamot."

Ruthless looked confused. "He was using a potion to drug witches, then taking advantage of them."

"How old was Mr. Kenyon?"

"Seventy, I think."

"Before we caught him, what exactly did you wish you could do?"

"Catch him."

"The exact words."

"I don't remember."

"I do. And I can call Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter to verify it. You said, 'I'd like to string the bastard up by his balls.'"

Ruthless didn't answer.

Sam tilted his head theatrically, then said, "Now, Ruthie, wouldn't that be torturing and mutilating an elderly man, just because he was rubbish?"

"I didn't do it!"

"Failure to execute a plan doesn't make the plan any different."

Kingsley wearily raised his gavel again, let it fall with a thump, and said, "Your point, Mr. Cresswell?"

"As you wish, Minister. We heard of the vengeance taken by Mr. Lupin, and now we hear Miss Scrimgeour wishing bloody reprisals of her own. I'd wager everyone in this room could tell a similar story. The only difference between them and myself is that I followed through."

"A fairly large difference in a criminal trial," Hermione said, not even getting up. She looked at him with an expression of extreme disdain. "Do you have any real questions for this witness, or were you just going to waste her time?"

"Oh," Sam said, "I have quite a lot for the little..." He stopped, and said, "Witness."

"I think not," Kingsley said. "Miss Scrimgeour, you are excused with the Wizengamot's apologies, unless Mr. Cresswell's advocate has a legitimate question."

The advocate said, "I think Miss Scrimgeour has done all she really can."

"Very well. You're free to go. Mrs. Weasley, is your next witness ready?"

"I had him brought from school during early testimony," Hermione said, as Ruthless slipped out.

Teddy didn't pay attention to what she was saying. He followed Ruthless out into the corridor opposite the one where they'd come in. Before the door closed, he heard Hermione say, "The prosecution calls Donald McCormack Duke..." Teddy looked over his shoulder and saw Donzo come in from the antechamber. He waved his hand to signal where he'd gone, but didn't wait to see if Donzo had caught it.

Ruthless had stopped partway down the corridor, where a marble bench rested against the wall. She sat down on it and buried her hands in her hair. This made the clips she'd put in to tame it stand up straight, and one of them popped open. Teddy sat down beside her and carefully took the rest of them out. She said nothing, but opened her hand when he offered them to her. She pocketed them. Her hair fell in a dispirited mass of unruly red curls, until it got to the base, where she'd managed to twist some of it into a bun.

"I'm glad my brothers are at school," she said. "They'd end up on trial themselves."

"They love you."

"Yeah. And I didn't tell my parents that I was testifying today. Same reason." She sighed. "I know how to pick them, don't I?" she asked bitterly.

Teddy took her hand. "You picked me once. I'm fine."

She wound her fingers through his. "You are. But you're not mine."

"I am, though. As long as you need me to be."

She reached over and patted his arm with her free hand, then leaned back to rest her head against the wall. "If I'd been born about forty minutes later, I'd have been in your year. Can I pretend that I was? That I'm just about to finish school, and this whole year didn't happen? Fresh start with the lot of you."

"Fine with me," Teddy said. "I expect Uncle Harry and Ron will expect you to retain anything they've taught you, though."

"I've been doing an extended Defense Against the Dark Arts project. In which I noticeably failed a few sections." She laughed quietly. "I suppose I can't make the year un-happen, can I?"

"Well, there are Time Turners in my office-to-be," Teddy said. "Of course, we can't get to them because if you reach in, time just keeps reversing and pushing your hand out." He turned on the bench, and put his hand on her face to get her to look at him. "Do you need anything?"

She looked at him for a long time, then smiled and pulled his hand away from her cheek. "You have no idea how much I want to say I need a kiss, but I really just want one, and it wouldn't be a good idea." She considered this, then said, "I could stand an arm around me, though."

"I can do that," Teddy said, and put his arm over her shoulders. She settled into the crook of his arm, and they were quiet for a long time. Beyond the door, they could hear the sound of Donzo's voice, but not the words.

"It's the wrong order for testimony," Ruthless said. "It should have been me, then you, then Donzo. Order of the narrative. Hermione put you first so you could come out after me, didn't she?"

Teddy considered lying, then said, "Yes. She thought you'd want a friend."

Ruthless nodded. "She's not bad. Not really the sort I'd have been friends with at Hogwarts, but I like her."

"Me, too."

"And Ron's great."

"True."

"And I like Anthony Goldstein, and even Williams isn't bad. And I always liked your godfather. I've talked to his wife a little more this year - don't know why we never spent much time with her; she seems all right."

"Aunt Ginny's great. Why?"

"I just reckon the year wasn't an entire loss." She stood up and took the hair pins from her pocket, then began to sloppily put the curls back in some kind of order. They corkscrewed out from the back of the pins, giving a wild, free sort of look that Teddy liked a great deal. She Conjured a mirror, made a face at it, then Vanished it and turned to Teddy. "As good as it's going to get, isn't it?"

He didn't have a chance to answer, which was just as well, as he couldn't think of anything wise to say to her, because the door opened, and Donzo came out, closing the door quietly behind him as Hermione called the next witness. He looked up. "All right, Scrimgeour?"

"All right, McCormack," she said. She looked at Teddy. "If I know Lupin, he didn't get breakfast before Hermione took him away. Let's get something to eat."

There didn't seem to be anything else to say, so Teddy stood up and went with his friends to a little café near the Ministry lobby. Most of the witches and wizards there seemed to be Ministry employees, and paid little heed to them (though Arthur Weasley, down to get a cup of tea, gave them a wave on his way back to the lifts). Teddy got a large breakfast; the others got tea and toast.

"I feel like we ought to be studying Animagus books," Ruthless said.

Donzo smiled. "I could get the books. You still haven't got it, have you?"

"I've been thinking about other things this year."

"I'm legal!" Teddy realized. "I can teach you next year, and you won't even have to worry about getting sacked."

This got the first genuine smile of the day from her. "I'll hold you to it," she said.

The Azkaban guard Teddy had seen downstairs earlier stepped up to the counter and ordered something. Teddy cast a Muffling Charm and said, "Who is that?"

"Azkaban guard," Ruthless said. "Edgecombe, I think. Her mother was one of the prisoners we released last summer. I think she took the job to look after her there. Why?"

"Nothing. I guess she wouldn't be one of Cresswell's great followers, then."

"Sam's what?"

"Those nutters who paint pictures of him like some angel avenger," Teddy said. "Do you know how many there are?"

"They do what?" Donzo asked.

Teddy explained.

Donzo rolled his eyes. "I have a fan letter from one of them, I think."

"You have the same fans as Sam?" Ruthless asked.

"Not all of them. But this one wanted me to record a song about the glorious purge or something. Really bad lyrics, on top of being evil."

"You're sure it wasn't from Phillips?" Teddy asked.

"I doubt he's taken to sealing his letters with lipstick." Donzo shrugged. "And he thinks they're nutters, too. Right on the politics, but crazy."

Teddy toyed with his eggs. "Ruthless, how many are there? Of those nutters?"

"We haven't taken a census," she said. "Could be ten or thirty. I doubt any more than that." She frowned. "Wait, you were thinking that an Azkaban guard is one of them?"

"It would make sense," Donzo said. "They deal with the Death Eaters every day, and probably think they're being coddled. And wasn't one of them mauled trying to protect prisoners when Greyback got free?"

"Bloody..." Ruthless hissed through her teeth. "That could be a right ashwinder nest," she said. She shook her head. "No... Azkaban guards go through screening before they're taken on. It was a compromise after the war - people didn't want the Dementors to leave unless they could be sure human guards wouldn't let the prisoners out."

"That's when the prisoners were Death Eaters," Donzo pointed out. "Now, we're talking about someone who wants the Death Eaters dead. And a prisoner who's apparently quite charming to..." He winced. "Sorry, Scrimgeour."

Ruthless snorted. "I'm the last person to argue with that." She grimaced. "I'll tell Ron what you said, and he'll tell Harry. I don't think we have to worry about Azkaban guards, though. At least I hope not."

They'd barely finished eating when an owl swooped in and landed in front of Donzo. She was carrying a message from the Headmistress, suggesting that they return to school, as she understood their testimony was over.

"Not happy with you, is she?" Ruthless asked.

"I've been gone a lot," Teddy said.

He and Donzo went to the row of Floos, and went directly to Sprout's office. She looked at them, shook her head, and said, "I trust everything went well."

Donzo assured her that it had gone as well as it could, then they left, taking the spiral staircase down together. On the seventh floor, they stopped long enough for Teddy to break the Charm on his clothes and turn them back into school robes, then went on to Defense Against the Dark Arts, which didn't provide much opportunity for discussion, as Robards had everyone listening to various objects, trying to ascertain which among them had been Cursed.

It wasn't until quite late in the afternoon, sitting at the edge of the lake and feeding the Giant Squid, that they were able to talk about it again.

"Cresswell kept at me about the Animagus business," Donzo said. "And he said I aided and abetted you in killing Greyback. Which I certainly hope I did."

"Yes, you're quite guilty," Teddy said. "He essentially accused me of murdering Greyback."

Donzo narrowed his eyes. "You didn't say you did, did you?"

"No. I have better places to spend the next few years than at Azkaban."

"What does any of it have to do with proving his own innocence? It doesn't make sense. He all but admitted to the crimes."

"He did admit to them while he was interrogating Ruthless."

"So he's not going to be set free."

"No."

"Which begs the question - if his followers are that upset that he's on trial, what are they going to do when he's convicted?"

As the trial went on in London, May brought a lush green world to Scotland. It also brought Victory Day - the last time Teddy would be in the place where his parents died on the anniversary of the battle. After supper, he went to the rocky ground under the north battlements and stayed there until the sun set. He used Dad's ring toward the end, let it take him to the memory of their wedding. He'd seen it before, but he savored it, anyway. It had been a horrible way to be forced into marriage - the Wizengamot had been debating the right of werewolves to marry even as the ceremony was going on downstairs - but they'd both been deliriously happy to be together, to love each other, to look forward to the future, however bleak it might become. When he went inside, he spent time with the portrait, letting Mum query him on the girls in his life, taking whatever advice Dad was in a mood to dispense, which included, as it had last year, a firm instruction to go downstairs to Victoire's birthday party. "And don't be morose there," Mum added. "Birthdays take precedence over death, at least this long after the fact."

Teddy gave them his word on this, but thought they were checking up on him, as by the time he got downstairs, Dad and Sirius had slipped into a medieval landscape, and Mum had struck up a conversation with Sir Cadogan, who'd inhabited a fanciful illustration of Camelot for the evening. They shooed Teddy back to the living any time he tried to connect with them.

He set out his crystal ball before going to sleep, and he dreamed kindly of them on the island he'd imagined for their benefit. They seemed to be getting further away sometimes, but that night, they all sat together on the steps of the Shrieking Shack, and didn't say much of anything.

Teddy looked out across the water and said, "I miss you."

"Not nearly as much as we miss you," Mum said. "But then again, we'd have been missing you soon enough if we were there with you."

Teddy turned and shook his head. "I won't ever shut you out. And I wouldn't have. If."

"You don't know that," Dad said, smiling faintly. "No young man thinks he's shutting mum and dad out when he goes out into the world, but I'm reasonably sure all the mums and dads feel it."

Teddy didn't answer. The dream went on until he awakened the next morning.

Geoff Phillips presented his report on their missing classmates in History of Magic. He'd managed to locate and contact seven of the eight still living abroad, and - Teddy was quite surprised - to get records from St. Mungo's of the fifteen women whose pregnancies had been forcibly terminated that year. Several of them had disappeared or died during the war, and of the others, only one had responded to his inquiry. He read her account aloud.

"The Death Eaters who did it are all in Azkaban," he finished. "Alive and well." He sat down.

"It's where they belong," Donzo said.

"Right," Geoff said brusquely. "Protected from every side."

"They attacked my mum, too," Donzo reminded him. "If one of us is going to be vengeful, it'll be me."

"The lot of you live in a bubble."

Teddy rolled his eyes. "It's true, we don't read Nutters Monthly."

Geoff held up the letter he'd got. "Does she sound like a nutter to you, Lupin?"

"No."

"Nor to me. Not everyone who pricks a hole in your little bubble is a nutter."

"No, just the ones who are nearly quoting a murderer."

"Killing people makes Sam Cresswell crazy. It doesn't make him wrong on the facts. And I'm hardly the only one who thinks that. There wouldn't be any of the papers you call Nutters Monthly if I were."

"A lot of people thought Voldemort was the savior of the wizarding world, too," Donzo said. "Does that make it right?"

"You're comparing Death Eaters and their victims?"

Donzo sighed, obviously frustrated. "The school was hidden away because witches and wizards were being hunted by Muggles, some of them tipped off by Muggle-borns who'd been invited to come here. By your own reasoning, it's the same. Where do you draw the line?"

Geoff didn't answer, and Binns forced the class back onto the topic of the underground resistance during the war. Teddy was scheduled to present his own paper the following week. Between papers, they had to go over everything they'd learned in the last seven years for their upcoming N.E.W.T.s, and there wasn't time for philosophical arguments.

Most of Teddy's classes, in fact, had begun comprehensive reviews. Invented Potions were due in mid-May, and Teddy had finally managed to get one that worked with Laura's crystal ball photography. It didn't capture motion, but between them, they caught several shadowy figures and stunning bursts of light. He got full marks for it, but was immediately plunged into homework and tests meant to prepare him for examinations. In Charms, Flitwick started assigning essay after essay on Charms theory, as he was satisfied that everyone could perform on the practical, and in Divination, Teddy found himself bounced back and forth between Trelawney and Firenze to make sure he was proficient in every conceivable method and comfortable discussing the philosophy of the discipline. Defense Against the Dark Arts reflected the practical turn the class had taken since the war, and Teddy usually came out of these sessions dazed from deflecting any number of spells and curses. Trips to Maurice's were all business, and when the subject of Cresswell's trial came up anyway, it was impossible to talk in any depth.

As the details of the crimes leaked out into the press, fewer and fewer people seemed inclined to sound like supporters, though a handful of younger students continued to wear Geoff's tee shirts. Uncle Harry wrote to say he was relieved by this receding wave of support for Sam, but Teddy had misgivings about it. Still, he supposed Uncle Harry knew more about that sort of thing than he did.

At the end of the month, Maurice returned to Hogwarts with him after their Sunday tutoring session. Granny had put her foot down and told him she'd watch the store until he was finished with N.E.W.T.s. If Maurice could have single-handedly conferred sainthood, Teddy had a feeling Granny would have halo by now.

The last weekend before N.E.W.T.s actually began, Teddy found himself on a grassy slope at the lake shore with Donzo, Maurice, Roger, Corky, and Honoria. It was a hot, lazy Saturday night, and well past curfew, though no one was bothering to look for them. A few fairies were flitting around the patches of wildflowers, but not much else was moving.

"I thought you'd have finished up your series before exams," Maurice said to Honoria.

"It's done," she said. "It's just question of running the last three. It's actually handy - I have my editorials ready during exams, so I won't have to write anything fresh."

"You're really going to keep them going right up to the end, then," Donzo said.

"Shouldn't I?"

"Well, you could concentrate on your N.E.W.T.s rather than your newspaper."

"I'm looking for an apprenticeship at the Prophet. Believe me, Rita will be kinder about low marks than letting the paper slip at this point."

"Hagrid doesn't care about my marks," Roger said. "He had the job before he even got a N.E.W.T. - he only got one after the war, when Harry Potter got the Ministry to let him finish school."

Teddy sighed and rolled over onto his stomach. "I'm looking for a Ministry apprenticeship. They want me to get good marks in everything."

"Well, then clearly it'll be impossible." Donzo got out his guitar. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground, and balanced it on his knee. "I, on the other hand, have nothing special to worry about. How about some music? All right, Maurice, or do I need to get a cover charge here?"

"Special dispensation," Maurice said, waving his hand lazily.

Donzo started playing something quiet on the guitar, just improvising - Teddy had long since learned to tell the difference between that and real songs - but stopped after a bit. He rested his hand on the guitar's body. The pick glinted in the late red sunset. "It's really almost over, isn't it?"

"Don't get maudlin," Corky said.

"I'm not. I just feel like we should do something."

"Does Lupin have a crisis?" Honoria asked. "We could end like we started."

"Sorry," Teddy said. "My only crisis is that I can't remember who led the goblin revolt of 1467."

Corky laughed. "Well, it's only the beginning of June. Plenty of time for something to come up."

"Let's get through N.E.W.T.s first," Teddy said.

Maurice shook his head sadly. "You're getting boring in your dotage."

Teddy smiled, and let the warm breeze and his friends' voices lull him off to sleep. He dreamed of his island. Dad and Mum and Sirius were there, but they didn't notice him. They were having an argument about Azkaban. Sirius was saying he could swim there as a dog. Teddy lost the thread of it.

It was dawn when he was shaken awake. Professors Longbottom and Hagrid were going around among them, smirks on their faces, waking all of them up.

"I should take points," Professor Longbottom said, "but I won't. Come back to the castle. It's nearly breakfast time."

The ground was damp, and they were all stretching out their aches and pains as they walked silently back to the castle, following the professors inside. A few early morning risers were already there, munching on toast and jam. Teddy and his friends all sat at the Slytherin table.

Just as he was getting ready to tuck into a plate of bacon, Teddy heard an owl call as it swooped in. Another followed. The morning edition of the Sunday Prophet.

It fell onto the table in front of Honoria, and she unfolded it.

Splashed across the front page was a picture of Sam Cresswell being led from the Department of Mysteries in chains. He was obviously shouting over his shoulder at people in the front row of the galleries.

The four inch headline said it all:

GUILTY.