Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OCs. Anything you recognize as not mine belongs to J.K. Rowling and/or their otherwise respective owners.

Author's Notes: Hello, all! Another short chapter today. I hope you all don't mind. This one is a bit more fast-paced than the previous one, and for good reason. Everything in this chapter kinda happens in a whirlwind. You'll see why. ;)

Next chapter will be posted sometime next week, if all things continue to go well.

Until then,

~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

~The Chronicles of Mabon~

~Harry Potter & the Secret of Life~

~Chapter 19: Testaments Pt. 1~

Monday, 19 September 1994
The Ministry of Magic of the British Isles, London, England, Great Britain

After Harry had completed his shopping and after Tonks had received the message – through the Patronus of a phoenix – to bring him to the Ministry of Magic, the auror in question did just that, through another round of unpleasant apparition.

When they had arrived, Harry, who had never been to the Ministry of Magic before, couldn't help but stare at the contents of it in shock. Despite being underground, the atrium that they had arrived in was quite large, looking to be almost four stories in height. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all built out of bottle-green brick, and there were an innumerable amount of fireplaces built into the middle of those three constructions. There was also a giant fountain in the middle of the room, depicting what looked to be a wizard, witch, centaur, goblin, and house-elf, and all of the many wizards and witches that were walking to and fro were bustling around it.

"Wow," Harry said in surprise, his eyes wide.

Tonks snorted. "How unoriginal," she remarked, before she sighed and shook her head. "Come on, Potter. Best not keep the Wizengamot waiting."

Then, she marched along, and Harry found himself having to trail after her. The only exception to this was when she almost fell flat on her face when she was entering what looked to be a lift, but Harry chose not to say anything about that, both because of the scowl on the pink-haired witch's face and the wry grin of the large, black wizard next to her.

Sure enough, in the next moment, the older wizard said, "Trip over your own feet again, Tonks?"

Tonks's hair flared red. "Oh, shut it, Shacklebolt," she snapped. "I'll have you know I'm on very important business."

Shacklebolt's grin widened. "Oh, I know. You were supposed to be babysitting Potter, and now you're bringing him to testify," he said, before he politely nodded Harry's way. "Speaking of which, it is nice to meet you, Mr. Potter. I daresay you remind me a lot of your father. The two of us fought in the war a few times, did you know?"

Harry blinked. "Uh...no. No, I didn't," he admitted.

"Ah, well. Just so you know," the older wizard said in response, and although his tone was casual and his smile didn't falter, Harry couldn't help but think he had disappointed him somehow. "I suppose you want level two, Tonks?"

Tonks rolled her eyes, even as the lift began to move in a clanky, old-fashion way that made Harry distinctly uncomfortable. "Gee, how did you guess?" she asked sarcastically.

None of them said anything as the lift moved, first downwards – which Harry had been very confused about, before realizing that the buttons on the lift went downwards, except for the buttons that were curiously labelled with O's first, instead of upwards – and then sideways, at which point Harry thought that he might be sick. The movements of the elevator were just too disjointed, too clunky. But just before he thought that he might actually be sick, the movements of the lift suddenly stopped, and a cool, feminine voice said, "Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Wizengamot courts, one through ten."

"Right," Tonks said with forced cheerfulness. "Come on then, Potter. Let's get a move on."

The two of them then exited the lift. Harry was vaguely aware of the fact that, as they left, Shacklebolt leaned in close to Tonks's ear and whispered something to her, but he didn't focus on that fact much. Couldn't focus on the fact much. Because suddenly, as he stood there and saw the directions for where both the Department of Magical Law Enforcement offices and the Wizengamot courts were, a sudden feeling of...unease, of nervousness, washed over him.

Harry froze in place.

"Potter?" Tonks asked once she realized what had happened, when she had moved to leave and saw that he wasn'tfollowing her out of the corner of her eye. "Potter, are you quite alright?"

"I...I just have to speak the truth, right?" Harry asked her with wide eyes.

Tonks's eyebrows furrowed. "Yes," she said quite plainly.

"The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" Harry continued.

"Yes," the auror replied again with a roll of her eyes. "Why? What's going on, Potter?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He couldn't voice the reason for the unease that he was feeling, couldn't say that he had suddenly just realized that the truth might not be enough. After all, if the truth hadn't been enough then, when Harry had begged and pleaded with Cornelius Fudge to listen, to help, then why would it be enough now? And what kind of godson would he be, if he just let Sirius go back to Azkaban again? A horrible one, that's what.

...But also a responsible one, a tiny voice in the back of his mind said. After all, it was his job, his duty to be responsible now, and not just for himself or his godfather. Tonks had basically said as much.

And perjuring himself, no matter how much he knew he would want to do it if he sensed that things weren't going his way, just simply wasn't the responsible thing to do. It wasn't the smart thing to do.

So, without any further prompting, Harry shook his head. "Nothing, Tonks," he said carefully, craftily. "I'm just...I guess I'm just nervous, that's all."

Tonks's expression softened. "As I'm sure anyone would be, if they were in your...situation," she replied. "But you don't need to be. So, come on. The Wizengamot doesn't like to be kept waiting."

This time, Harry did follow after the pink-haired witch when she moved to leave. The two of them marched along through the twisted, bottle-green corridors that held scarcely another soul, save for a single wizard or witch here and there, until they finally came upon a much wider hallway. Here, there were ten, wide double-doors, five on either side of the hallway, and each were labelled with a number. Upon further notice, Harry also realized that there was an eleventh door at the end of the hallway, but seeing as how there was a plaque to the side of it declaring 'OFFICE OF THE CHIEF WARLOCK – ALBUS DUMBLEDORE', he didn't give this door anymore thought.

And indeed, even if he wanted to, he couldn't. Because then, Tonks was suddenly opening the door that was labelled with a '6' on their left, and she was walking in, and Harry was scrambling after her.

"Ah, Auror Nymphadora Tonks has arrived, bringing with her Mr. Harry James Potter, I presume?" a familiar voice spoke.

Harry blinked, both at the familiarity of the voice and the absurdity of Tonks's first name, before he looked up. There, on the other side of the room, fifty wizards and witches – but mostly wizards – were sitting, all dressed in plum-colored robes. He immediately recognized Albus Dumbledore, who had just spoken, sitting in the middle of them, in a chair that was more prestigious than the others. He also recognized the familiar faces of Lucius Malfoy, Castor Greengrass, Amelia Bones, and Kentigern MacDougal, as well as a wizard who had a startling similarity to Mr. Weasley.

But, before Harry could analyze the fifty members of the Wizengamot further, Tonks said, "Yes indeed, Chief Warlock Dumbledore. Mr. Potter is right behind me."

Dumbledore did not smile at this news, but there was a twinkling in his eyes as he replied, "Let the Court then recognize that Mr. Potter has arrived to offer his sworn testimony for the events of June 6th, 1994."

"Aye," the forty-nine members of the Wizengamot said in unison.

Dumbledore then raised his hand to a stone chair that was resting in the middle of the room. "Please, sit, Mr. Potter," he said.

With one last look at Tonks, who nodded approvingly, Harry walked forward. As he did so, his eyes flitted to look over at the benches for the people that had already testified or were there to just simply watch the trial. Professor Lupin was the first one of them that he noted, and although the werewolf didn't smile, he did give Harry a warm glance. The same was true for the couple sitting next to him, who Harry presumed to be Tonks's parents. They certainly looked like her, or she like them, anyways, with the only glaring exceptions being the woman's curly dark brown hair and grey eyes and the man's light brown hair and blue ones.

Once Harry had finished looking over the people in the court gallery, he then turned to look at his godfather, who looked back at him with a slight smile on his lips. Sirius looked a lot better than he had previously, after being on the run for so long, but then, Harry supposed, that made sense. Still, the sight of his godfather being clean-shaven – save for his goatee – and well-groomed was nonetheless very shocking for the fourteen-year-old boy, and momentarily, Harry found himself faltering.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore immediately called.

Harry blinked, shook his head, and then did as he was told and finished his walk and sat on the chair in the middle of the room, the chair that was facing the Wizengamot directly.

Immediately, shocked whispers and choked bits of laughter rang out in the room. Confused, Harry looked up at Dumbledore with a frown. "Professor?" he called.

"Mr. Potter," another voice said, before Dumbledore could say anything. Looking up, Harry saw that the owner of the voice looked to be a man in his seventies or so, with dark brown hair and stunning gold eyes. "That is the seat for the defendant. Since you are not Lord Black, though, but a witness instead, it is more appropriate for you to sit there," here, he gestured to a seat more like the ones that Harry had seen on muggle courts on the television, "instead."

Harry flushed. "Oh," he said. "I – um – I'm sorry, sir."

"Lord," the dark-haired wizard corrected with a slight smile.

"Lord," Harry repeated. "I'll – um – I'll go do just that."

Again, whispers and choked laughter rang out in the room.

Face reddening, ears ringing, Harry quickly walked to and sat on the seat that the one wizard had pointed out to him.

"Yes, thank you, Lord Nott," Professor Dumbledore said, his voice mirthful, but not condescending. "And apologies, Mr. Potter. I should have clarified which seat you were supposed to sit in."

Already feeling quite ashamed, Harry said nothing in response.

After a long moment in which a tense silence hung in the air, Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Mr. Potter," he began. "You have been called by the court of the Wizengamot by the defendant Sirius Black to give your sworn testimony for the events that took place on June 6th, 1994. Do you understand what this means? That you must give the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

Harry wet his lips, which were now rather dry. "I – I do," he said.

Dumbledore nodded. "And do you understand," he continued. "That, if we are to discover that you failed to do so, that you perjured yourself, then you will be administered Veritaserum in order to ensure that the truth will be revealed, regardless of your own personal rights?"

Harry blinked. He had never heard of Veritaserum before, but whatever it was, it didn't sound good. So, he said, "I do."

"Let the Court recognize that Mr. Potter is of sound-enough mind to give his sworn testimony," Dumbledore said. When all of the other forty-nine members gave their affirmative of the recognition, the headmaster once again cleared his throat, before announcing, "Mr. Fawley, you may now begin your questioning on the behalf of the defendant."

The wizard who had been sitting next to Sirius stood. He was a rather unremarkable man, with a slightly-shorter-than-average stature and brown hair, but the smile that he gave Harry was more than welcoming. "Mr. Potter," the older wizard began. "Can you tell me why you and your friends, Ms. Hermione Jean Granger and Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley, were out on the Hogwarts grounds on the evening of June 6th, 1994?"

Harry wet his lips again. It hadn't previously occurred to him that he hadn't exactly been prepped for his testimony, like was customary in the muggle world. In fact, he hadn't been prepped at all, and that wasn't a thought that was lost on him. It wasn't a thought that made him feel the least bit better, anyways. Especially when he knew that Hermione, if she had still been talking to him, would probably have a-thousand-and-one things to say about it at least.

"Well," he began nervously, his voice a shallow pool for how he really felt on the inside. "We – my friends and I, that is – we had wanted to comfort Hagrid."

"Rubeus Hagrid, the groundskeeper of Hogwarts?" Mr. Fawley clarified.

Harry nodded. "Yes. One of Hagrid's prized hippogriffs, you see, Buckbeak, he had been set to be executed, and Hagrid wasn't taking it so well."

"I see," Mr. Fawley said. "And what happened when you, ah, went to Hagrid's?"

"Well, we – err – sat and talked for a while," Harry said. "We comforted him. But then – err – well, you see, Hagrid revealed that he had Ron's – err – rat. Scabbers. Ron had lost him some weeks ago, and he thought that Hermione's cat had killed him. So, he was awfully happy that – "

Suddenly, Mr. Fawley raised his hand. "Yes, thank you, Mr. Potter," he said, causing Harry to flush again. "But what happened after you, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Weasley left Rubeus Hagrid's...abode?"

Harry frowned. "Well, we were walking back up to Hogwarts," he said. "And Ron and Hermione were arguing, as they usually do – well, did, I guess – when all of the sudden, Scabbers bit Ron and ran away. Ron, well, he chased after him, and he got awfully close to the Whomping Willow. Too close, actually. Hermione and I, we told him to run away, but before he could, he pointed behind us and told us to run away."

"And what did you see when you looked behind you?" Mr. Fawley asked.

"A large, black Grim," Harry answered.

Mr. Fawley nodded, before he walked back over to the table where Sirius was sitting and grabbed a picture. Then, he brought it over to the chair where Harry was sitting and gave it to him. "Is this the animal that you saw?" he questioned.

Harry looked down. The animal was a large, black dog that looked like the Grim, and Harry also knew that it was Sirius's animagus form. So, he nodded and said, "It was."

"And did you later witness Lord Black turn into his natural form from this animal?" Mr. Fawley asked.

Once again, Harry nodded. "I did."

Mr. Fawley pulled the photograph from his hands. "Right," he said. "Please continue, Mr. Potter."

And so. Harry did just that. He told Mr. Fawley, told the Wizengamot, about how the Grim, how Sirius had grabbed Ron by the leg and pulled him into the secret entrance underneath the Whomping Willow. He told them about how he and Hermione had followed after them, only to discover that the Grim was actually Sirius, and how the older wizard and Professor Lupin had revealed Scabbers to actually be Peter Pettigrew. Here, many members of the Wizengamot whispered in shock, but Harry ignored them as he continued on in his tale, as he pressed forward. To how Professor Snape had found them. To how Professor Lupin had turned in a werewolf. To how Snape had protected them. To how Harry had tried to save Sirius from the Dementors. And finally, when specifically asked, he also spoke about how he and Hermione had used her Time-Turner to save Sirius, a fact which actually caused a few members of the Wizengamot to cry out and be silenced by Dumbledore. He told them everything. He truly did. He told them everything until he had nothing left to tell.

Finally, when it was over, when he was over, Mr. Fawley nodded again and thanked him for his testimony. It was almost anti-climatic in a way and in a way that Harry wasn't expecting, but still, it was over.

Or so Harry thought.

Because apparently, despite the somewhat-familiarity that he had with how the courts – or, at least, the muggle ones, anyways – worked, he had forgotten one key, crucial detail:

The fact that the prosecutors would also be able to question him.

It obviously wasn't a fact that Dumbledore forgot, though. Because just as Harry was about to stand from his seat, a sigh literally about to escape from his lips, the headmaster and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot spoke. "And now," the wizened wizard said, causing Harry to return to his seat and look up at him with wide eyes. "Mr. Weasley, you may now begin your questioning on the behalf of the prosecutors."

With even wider eyes than before, if that was at all possible, Harry turned around to look at the person that was going to begin questioning him. At first, he had thought he had heard wrong, that perhaps Dumbledore had said something like Weatherby or Westley, but no. There, standing in front of him, was none other than Percy Weasley.

And this Percy Weasley, unlike the Percy Weasley that Harry had seen over the summer, had a hardened look in his eyes. A very hardened look in his eyes.

The kind that Harry had learned from his life with the Dursleys meant that there was nothing but trouble in his immediate future.

"Thank you, Chief Warlock Dumbledore," Percy said. And Merlin, Harry couldn't help but think, even his voice was cold, was hardened. And that made Harry wonder, was the third-eldest Weasley son mad at him? Why? What had he ever done?

But, before Harry, regardless of the professionalism of such thoughts, could even think about opening his mouth to ask them, Percy suddenly turned to look at him with his gaze of steel. "My, my, Mr. Potter," he said. "Where do we even begin?"

Word Count: 3,079

Next Chapter Title: Testaments Pt. 2