Chapter Ten: The Trial

"Mr. Weasley, it's good to see you again. How are things at the Ministry?" Dumbledore said when he Apparated right into the Burrow after receiving Percy's owl. Percy smiled weakly. "As good as can be expected, Professor. The Minister's still, shall we say, unaware of Voldemort's presence. And we haven't located the whereabouts of those prisoners released from Azkaban."

As soon as he'd figured out that Dumbledore was the man he needed to talk to, Percy had run upstairs and scribbled a quick note, stressing the importance of this meeting, and suggesting that Percy travel to Hogwarts and discuss his findings. However, Dumbledore had owled him back, saying in a short note:

Mr. Weasley,

I can only say that I am pleased with the amount of research you've done concerning the history of this one person. Like you, I believe the trials of Lord Voldemort's era to have been too hasty and superficial for any real justice to be done, and I am sure there were many innocent people wrongly incarcerated. You do not have to come to Hogwarts; I will visit you in the Burrow, and I plan on leaving as soon as I finish this note. In fact, you may be still reading this by the time I arrive.

See you soon.

Albus Dumbledore

The letter was indeed still in Percy's hand as he greeted the Headmaster. He folded it neatly, and put it in the robe of his pocket while offering Dumbledore a seat in the living room. As soon as the older wizard had made himself comfortable, turning down the offer of coffee, tea, or food, Percy had gotten right to the point.

"Professor, I know you must have attended many of the trials in the seventies, and though I am aware you couldn't be expected to remember every single detail of each of those trials, I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on the one particular trial I mentioned in the letter, concerning that prisoner, 26531, or, known among colleagues as 'Arrow'."

"Indeed. It is true that I could not possibly remember every detail of every court hearing I attended, though I've tried to impress each one into my memory. When I found that to be somewhat unreliable, I found another means of preserving the memory of those dark times." Dumbledore reached down into the large black bag he had brought with him and lifted out what appeared to be a stone bowl with strange, runic carvings along the outside. Inside the bowl, Percy could see a silvery, liquid looking material that shifted constantly in what could only be described as bewitching patterns.

"Is that…is that a Pensieve?" Percy asked quietly. He had only read about these memory devices in books at school, and had never actually seen one until this moment. Dumbledore smiled.

"Yes, very perceptive of you, Mr. Weasley. Here I've stored all the memories that could not be held in this old mind forever. Here is where the answer lies to at least some of your questions."

He waved his wand over the surface of the silver liquid, causing it to shift faster and faster, until the liquid turned into a miniature whirlpool. Suddenly, the vortex calmed, and Percy felt like he was looking into a small window, through which he could see a square room, filled with witches and wizards sitting on bleacher-like benches. Percy looked at Dumbledore questioningly, and Dumbledore gestured towards the surface. "Go on." Percy reached out and gently touched the glowing liquid with the tips of his fingers.

Instantly, he felt as if he were being pulled through the small window he'd been peering through, which was actually the truth. Suddenly, he'd landed squarely on his bottom, sitting completely upright, much to his surprise. He glanced to his left and saw Dumbledore seated next to him, though this was a different Dumbledore than the one he'd just left behind in the Burrow. It was a slightly younger Dumbledore, with fewer wrinkles around his eyes, which were fixed steadfastly on the other side of the room. Percy took a brief moment to take in his surroundings. They were in the square room he'd seen from outside the Pensieve, with absolutely no windows. Flickering torches hung randomly on the stone walls cast the only light available, and slowly Percy realized the room was silent, despite the large number of witches and wizards that occupied it.

He looked to one end of the room and saw his former superior, Bartemius Crouch standing beside a large iron chair, his face set in a mask of cold indifference. Percy wondered why everyone was so quiet, until he realized that everyone had their eyes on the door at the opposite end of the room to Crouch. Percy could sense something like anticipation hanging in the air, which was suddenly broken by the door opening and four dementors sweeping in surrounding one person. The entire congregation of the room held its breath as the dementors escorted their charge to the large chair before leaving. Crouch pointed his wand at the chair causing silver straps to fly around the prisoner's wrists and ankles, securing them effectively.

Percy watched all this in morbid fascination along with every other person in the room. The silence was finally broken by Crouch, who held out a long roll of parchment and started reading off it in his unfeeling voice. "Witches and wizards of the court, we are gathered here to determine the penalty of the defendant, whose charges are as follows: consortion with followers of the Dark Lord; espionage; taking the mantle of a Death Eater; murder."

"Where's my uncle?" A soft voice interrupted Crouch.

Crouch looked towards the chair, irritation showing on his face. "What?"

"Where's my uncle? He told me that he would be here to give testimony in my favor. So where is he?" The prisoner continued. Crouch walked forward so that he was nose to nose with the criminal. "Your uncle obviously changed his mind. Can you blame him for not wanting to disgrace his family name by testifying for a no good piece of scum like you?"

"Then I am already condemned." The voice was softer, but it sounded like a whip-crack throughout the room, and Percy felt the breath catch in his throat.

Crouch backed away from the chair and continued with his reading. "The defendant has been found guilty on all charges and is to be sentenced to life in Azkaban without parole. Does the defendant have any last words before the sentence is enacted?" "Yes."

"Then speak them now, Death Eater."

"I may be going to prison, but I want all to know that I am not guilty of these charges. I did not kill anyone other than those who have actually consorted with Voldemort." A shudder ripples through the room at the mention of the Dark Lord's name, and it wasn't until this point that Percy realized how terrifying things must have really been for wizard society if they already feared his name. Unfazed, the prisoner continued. "I have never betrayed anyone, except myself and my innocent wife, who had been willing, at the end to give her own life for mine. She had thrown herself on the mercy of Voldemort, and instead of any pity, was murdered by the Dark Lord."

Here Crouch stepped forward again. "You idiot. We did Priori Incantatem on your wand, and the last spell you had performed before your arrest was Avada Kedavra." The audience rumbled slightly, but once again, the prisoner didn't seem to notice.

"She gave her life for mine, but what good did it do her if I'm to be locked away for the rest of my days? You wasted her sacrifice-my sacrifice—Mr. Crouch, you vindictive bastard. And now, the truly guilty party is still out there, free to go about and breathe fresh air, and I, the innocent one, am to remain my entire life having my soul sucked slowly away by those filthy demons. Ironic, when his deeds are far more abominable than anything I have ever done. But hear me now, Crouch—I, Alexander Hunter Weasley, swear, on all that I stand for, that my wife's murder will be avenged."

Crouch held up his hand. "That's enough; we've heard all the senseless prattle we'll need for the day. Lock this filth up, and," he leaned forward, "make sure he never gets the chance to set foot outside the walls of Azkaban ever again."

Percy watched in horror as the entourage of dementors led Alexander from the room, his head held high. But Percy could see, as he passed by the bleachers, the tears glimmering in his eyes. Percy felt his own eyes grow moist as the man was led to the dark cell from which he would ask Percy to give a message to Arthur over fifteen years later.

There was a hand on Percy's shoulder, and he turned to see Dumbledore smiling sadly down at him. "Have you found everything you needed to here?" Percy nodded wordlessly, swallowing the lump that had developed in his throat. "Very well, then I suppose we should leave now." With a cold rush of air Albus Dumbledore and Percy Weasley left the aching sadness of the preserved recollection of the trial of Alexander Hunter Weasley.