TRIALS

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Harry Potter isn't mine.

The Aurors pushed me through the London streets. I received many frightened glances from witches and wizards, and some even spat in my direction as I passed. I shook it off—my main goal was to prevent myself from falling over. My head was spinning so much, the entire city seemed to be swirling together. I was so weak, I became dizzy, and I feared that the only thing preventing me from collapsing on the ground was the Aurors' strong grip on my arms as they pulled me toward the Ministry.

Once we reached the entrance, the two men shoved me inside. We passed the large fountain in the center of the room as we made our way toward the elevator in the back. They pulled me through the heavy glass doors and pushed the button that read "Department of Mysteries".

The elevator immediately shot toward the ground, and I felt my stomach turn. I desperately tried to remain upright as we plummeted into the lowest level of the Ministry.

Finally, we reached the bottom, and the elevator stopped. Its doors opened, and a cool woman's voice announced that we had arrived at the Department of Mysteries. Suddenly I became more nervous. In just a few moments, I would be walking into a room of people that presumed that I was a criminal. They would do everything in their power to assure that I was thrown back in prison. What was worse was that I was on my own. I had no one to help me plead my case. I prayed that the Wizengamot would be in a forgiving mood, though I knew that my hopes were futile—there was no way they would look upon my face and see anything but a criminal.

The Aurors continued pushing me through the labyrinth of mirrored tiles. I tried not to look anywhere but straight ahead, for I knew that if I gazed into the walls or floors, I would see my ghostly, skeletal reflection staring back at me with fogged eyes. I wasn't sure that I would be able to stomach that encounter.

We walked for at least ten minutes, trying to find my courtroom. We stopped in front of Courtroom 6. There were two large men on either side of the large wooden doors. Their dark faces and eyes made them appear intimidating and foreboding.

"We have Lupin here for his trial," one of the Aurors announced. The guards nodded and pulled open the doors, allowing us to enter. We walked inside, and I became overwhelmed by the beauty of the room. A huge chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, its crystals pointed like raindrops towards the floor. The room was made almost entirely of a beautiful sandstone tile, giving the whole place an aristocratic feel. The Wizengamot sat on one side of the room in dark wooden benches, and a tall stand was placed on the other side. It was ironic, I thought for them to try criminals in so beautiful a place.

The guards came up on either side of me and replaced the Aurors. The pulled me toward the stand, pushing me up the many steps that led to the top. Once I was firmly on the top, the guards left me, and I was alone to face the Wizengamot.

I felt my head begin to spin once again, and the entire room appeared to be swirling together in a sort of whirlpool. I had to remain upright. I needed to present my case and Sirius' to the jury. It was our last hope of getting out of Azkaban.

"State your name," a long-nosed man instructed from the center of the crowd.

"Remus Lupin," I responded, though it was so weak I could barely hear it myself.

The man nodded and scrolled something out on a bit of parchment.

"Remus John Lupin," a man I recognized as Tugwood began, "you are being charged with treason against the Wizarding world, murder…" He continued on the list, but I wasn't really paying attention. I was mainly trying to prevent myself from falling over.

My whole body ached with chills. My stomach felt like it was doing flips, and my head refused to stop turning. I felt my eyes fog, and it became difficult to keep my legs straight; they felt like they were going to turn to liquid from underneath me.

I felt myself begin to sway back and forth in an attempt to find a strong center of gravity, but I was so dizzy, I found no relief.

Finally, I felt my legs give out, and I fell over the stand. I fell through the air, and my head hit something hard. I heard people gasp, but then my mind slipped away.

-oOoOoO-

I didn't know how long it had been, but I knew that I was no longer in the courtroom. The room was too quiet, and no one was accusing me of anything.

I felt my eyes flutter open, and I took in the sight of a hospital room. My mind went into full on shock, and I could feel my breathing become shallow. Not only was I in a hospital room, but I was in an actual bed—a real bed! And my head no longer felt like it was going to spin off my shoulders. I could make out the crisp lines of the ceiling tiles and the metal foot of the bed.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," a cheery voice sounded to my right. I glanced to the side, and I saw Dumbledore sitting in a chair beside the bed. He gazed down at me with kind blue eyes.

"What happened?" I asked, noting that my voice was no longer as feeble as it had been the day of the trial.

"You fainted in the courtroom, and you hit your head when you fell," he told me. "You were rushed here, and you've been here for the last four days."

I leaned back into the pillow, suddenly remembering my hard encounter with the floor. "What about the trial?" I beckoned. I needed to know if Sirius and I were freed.

Dumbledore sighed. "They postponed it."

"Until when," I urged.

"Tomorrow."

I groaned. "I have to get out of here, then," I instructed, starting to rise from the bed only to feel my head ache again, forcing me to lie back onto the cushions.

"You're not going anywhere," Dumbledore pointed. "The Healers all agree that you're still too weak to do much of anything besides lie in bed."

"Well then what am I supposed to do if I can't even defend myself in the trial?" I pleaded. "Their just going to throw me back in prison if I'm not there, and I can't go back."

Dumbledore looked at me with sympathetic eyes. "No, they're not going to put you back in prison," he instructed. I shot him a doubtful look. "They won't," he assured again, "because I'll be speaking for you."

I felt my eyes bulge out of my head. "Really?" I asked gratefully.

Dumbledore nodded. "I think we can make a pretty good case for you," he told me. "You fainting at your trial has exploded into big news, and people are already asking for an inspection of the conditions in Azkaban. We can use that to get sympathy from some of the Wizengamot, and I think I can come up with other points of defense."

It felt as though a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. With Dumbledore as my ally, I was sure to get the support of at least some people, and that meant I had a chance.

Suddenly, my heart sank as I thought of Sirius all alone in prison. He needed to get out too. If there was any possibility of him getting out, I had to make sure it happened. I turned back to Dumbledore, "What about Sirius?" I questioned earnestly.

Dumbledore shifted uncomfortably. "I shall see what I can do for Mr. Black."

I knew that tone in his voice. It was the voice he'd used when he'd assured us that the Fidelius Charm on James and Lily's house would hold. It was the voice he'd used back in school when he told us we wouldn't get detentions for our pranks. It was the doubtful voice that always meant something would go wrong.

I sighed, "He's not going to get out, is he?"

Dumbledore let out a deep breath. "It's doubtful, but not impossible," he replied.

I lay back onto the pillow. I was going to have to accept it for now.

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