** You have your wish, Evil spappy pie! By the way that pen name suits you, you wouldn't set deadlines for me if you'd seen the homework I got landed with today. Oh well, never mind. Er… who else reviewed? Oh heck, I've already broken the internet connection, so thanks to EVERYONE and what'syourname, (you know who you are) I did read Perfect? and I meant bloodthirsty because of all the blood, duh! Sorry everyone, I'm feeling crabby. I must think happy so I don't chuck Sirius back into Azkaban straight away. OK…. **Thinks happy thoughts** **

All characters are property of J.K. Rowling (except Mr. Wattling and Marcus Porter and the tall man who doesn't have a name as yet) and I'm getting really really sick of typing this up every time.

The Trial of Sirius Black  - Chapter 7

"In that case," sniffed Wattling, "we shall proceed. I call the Head of the Prosecution to the stand."

The Head of what? Thought Harry. Surely that wasn't what you called them? This was nothing at all like the films of trials he'd seen on TV whenever he got the chance to watch it. Was there going to be a Head of Defence too, instead of a Lawyer?

It was a man dressed all in black who took his place beside the judge at the table which suddenly had three chairs **mostly because I forgot to mention them before **. He was tall, spindly and wore glasses on the very tip of his nose. He also looked like the kind of person who had never smiled in their life.

"Why does he get to go first?" Harry heard Ron ask.

"He just does Ron, it's tradition I suppose," answered Hermione.

"You mean you don't know," grumbled Ron.

"Oh be quiet," said Hermione.

The tall man was talking in a high reedy voice that made Ron giggle. Harry and Hermione both glared at him, so he shut up.

"I call Marcus L. Porter to the stand."

Lupin snorted quietly. Harry watched as a fat, middle aged man in a purple striped suit came to stand before the long raised table. He was so short his head nearly pulled him over backwards as he looked up to see the Head of Prosecution.

They did the swearing thing with this man too, only he swore on his father's honour. It seemed good enough for the tall man, who was bending slightly over the table to see Marcus Porter properly.

If Harry hadn't been so worried he would have found it funny. Ron obviously wasn't worried. He stuffed his fist into his mouth and shook with mirth. 

"How do you know Mr. Black?" asked the tall man.

"I went to school with him," said Porter. When Harry glanced at Professor Lupin he saw a look of disgust on his face.

"You were in his year?"

"Yes."

"Then you also knew James Potter."

"I did."

"And you believe Black committed these crimes?"

"I do."

"Why?"

That one puzzled Porter. So far he had managed by answering questions with just one or to words. This time, he had to sing for his supper.

"Er…"

"Take your time Mr. Porter."

"Er... he were…"

"Yes?"

"He were the bad one," Porter managed. "Allus the one in trouble, he were. Both bright as buttons, but too different to be true friends, is what I allus thought."

"Can you give us an example?" coaxed the spindly man. Harry was starting to feel angry now. This wasn't evidence!

"Our table exploded one night," said Porter, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Fixed it to go in the middle of dessert, they did. All me luvly spotted dick, covered in dung. Fresh though, mind. Never one for second hand pranks, I'll give 'im that."

Ron choked on his fist. Hermione thumped him on the back of the head. "He was never at Hogwarts," she whispered to Harry. "He doesn't even talk properly."

Sirius' eyes were misted over, and he hardly recognised his own name when the Head of Prosecution addressed the next question to him.

"And did you set a dung bomb underneath the Hufflepuff table on evening in the middle of dessert, Mr. Black?"

"What? Oh er... yeah."

"What's he doing?" asked Harry. No one answered him.

The tall man turned to the judge, a smug look on his face. But it isn't evidence, thought Harry frantically. It's just a schoolboy prank.

"But er… it wasn't my idea though," said Sirius suddenly.

"Yes it was!" shrieked Porter.

"Oh no it wasn't," said Sirius coldly. He didn't sound at all like a puppet when he said it in that tone of voice. "James was the one your Beater bashed in the head with a club after all."

"It was a sheer accident!" said Porter shrilly. He still had his concentration face on, he seemed to have forgotten to remove it. "And I suppose the fact that you won the game ten minutes afterwards means nothing to you?"

"Only because James wouldn't give up a Quidditch match for nothing nor nohow," said Sirius, deadly serious now. "You should have seen the mess in the Hospital Wing later, Porter. We had to get him new robes because the blood wouldn't wash out."

"Thank you!" bellowed the Head of Prosecution, as well as a man whose voice has never broken can bellow. "No further questions."

**Dooo dooo dooo!!!!!!!!!!!! Ahem. Sorry. Er… right, strange chapter this evening, probably a result of two much homework! Call the child authorities! **