Chapter 17

Isabelle's breath caught in her throat as she stood at the end of the driveway with her hands on her knees, catching her breath. She would need her wits for whatever she found in the house. Severus put his hand on her back, trying to compose himself, as well.

"Is this a nightmare?" Isabelle asked, in a haze. She turned around. "Why is the Dark Mark on the front door?"

"You know why," Severus said in a tight voice. "Who is the question. Voldemort would not bother himself to attack the Parkers or Spences."

"Sergei," she said softly. "He knows about Phillip, and is angry about the divorce. This is something he would plan."

"How would he know that you are here?"

"I don't know."

"Let's go, Isabelle. We need to find out what we're dealing with here. Remember your wand."

"No, Severus," she said firmly. "Sergei might still be in there, and he doesn't know that you and I know each other. He's framing me for the murders of my friends; I'm sure of it. It's so unoriginal, taking a page out of Peter Pettigrew's book. I would've thought him more clever than that."

"I'm going," he roared.

"Use your head! You can't blow your cover; it would compromise us all. This is something I must face alone. Go to Stacey's flat and I'll send word as soon as I can."

"I don't think this is a good idea, but you're right. Isabelle, be careful," he said in a husky voice. She took out her wand, and transfigured it into a Rolex watch.

"Here, wear this," she said, putting the watch on his wrist. "If I'm right, I won't need it anyway. Severus, if something happens to me, I just wanted to say thank you for everything you've ever done for me. I love you."

She hugged Severus tightly, wondering if this would be the last time she ever saw him. He disapperated, leaving Isabelle alone, staring at the ominous Dark Mark on the door. Taking a deep breath, she walked up the driveway, and opened the front door.

The house was in complete disarray. Isabelle had to move the coat tree from where it had fallen so that she could walk through the door. The houseplants that belonged on the entryway table lay strewn on the carpet, dirt covering the floor. She gulped. The house was quiet – too quiet.

She cautiously walked into the kitchen, and gasped. Gathering up her courage, she moved through the dining room and into the family room. It appeared that the attack began in the kitchen, where Thomas and Brittany became the first victims. From there, the attackers spread throughout the first floor, killing Jake in the family room. But, where were Sarah Lindsay and the children?

Desperately hoping that no one was upstairs, she began climbing the staircase. Her knees buckled at the landing. Sarah Lindsay was sprawled on the hall floor in front of Rose's bedroom. Isabelle's head spun. She left all of her friends an hour ago, alive and safe. The whole situation was surreal. Only her wish that the children survived the attack somehow propelled her to step over Sarah Lindsay's body and into the bedroom.

She leaned against the doorjamb, tightly closing her eyes. As long as she lived, she would never forget the image of the lifeless forms of M. J., Carrie and Rose laying together on the bed. They looked so peaceful and innocent. Something in Isabelle snapped.

"I know you're behind this, Sergei," she screamed at the top of her lungs. "It's me you want. Come face me, you coward."

Silence echoed throughout the house. "What? Too afraid to fight?" she goaded.

No one replied. After a minute, Isabelle realized that Stephen and Abbie were missing. Listlessly, she walked down the hallway and into Stephen's bedroom. They were on the floor, just as she feared. She collapsed on the floor, emitting an inhuman noise of pure agony and grief. A hand grasped her shoulder. She jumped, and turned around, doing a double take. It was Lucius, not Sergei, who stood in front of her.

"I'm so sorry, Isabelle. I didn't know about the attack until it was too late. Remizov came here for you. When you weren't here, he got angry and--"

"And killed the people I love for spite."

"Not all of them. I arrived before he got to these two little ones." He pointed to Stephen and Abbie. "They're only stunned. It was the best I could do. When Remizov finds out that I didn't kill them, heads will roll, I'm sure."

"Thank you, Lucius," she said woodenly. "The Office of Magical Affairs will be here soon. You can't risk being here."

"I'll stay with you until they arrive. You shouldn't be alone, Isabelle," he said softly, reaching out and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. She nodded, collapsing into his arms.

"How did you find out?" she asked.

"Don't worry about it," he replied.

A loud noise shattered the silence. "It's the OMA. You need to go. Please go to 2132A Washington Avenue and tell Severus what happened. It's in the West Village, and the lady who owns the flat is named Stacey."

Lucius wondered why she made this odd request, but agreed. He disapperated as footsteps sounded at the second floor landing. Three armed OMA policemen burst into Stephen's bedroom.

"Ma'am, what happened here?"

Isabelle looked up at the officer. "I went for a walk, and this is what I found when I returned. These children, Stephen Parker and Abigail Spence, are not dead. Please have someone from the Office of Social Affairs take the children out of the house before they wake up. Their next of kin is Phillip Spence."

"How do you know that they are alive?" the second officer asked.

"Because they are breathing, Officer--" she looked at his name tag, "Carlton."

"I'm afraid we're going to have to take you in for questioning, Countess Remizov," the first officer said in an overly official tone of voice. Dazed, Isabelle didn't bother to correct him as he handcuffed her and led her to his squad car.

Scenery rushed past Isabelle in a blur as the car raced towards the courthouse. The officer jumped out, opened the door and let her to the magistrate's courtroom. After obtaining a warrant charging her with capital murder, the officer led her to a tiny questioning room and read her rights to her. Somewhere in the shuffle, she indicated that her attorney was Phillip Spence, and that she wouldn't answer questions without his presence. Consequently, the OMA left her in the room alone with her thoughts while they figured out what to do with her. The entire office buzzed with the news. The Spence and Parker families were old, established wizarding families; their deaths shocked the entire wizarding community. Unlike other areas, Williamsburg had never experienced a Death Eater attack, and had no standing procedure when one occurred. In fact, the last high-profile Death Eater murders anywhere were the night of the attack on Potter family in England. Rumors began to circulate quickly about the eerie similarities between the two attacks and the people involved.

Phillip Spence grimly entered the courthouse to find Isabelle. It took quite a bit of convincing to get the OMA to allow him to speak to her privately before they began interrogating her. He quietly entered the room, closing the door behind him. Their eyes met, and they shared an expression of intense pain.

"What happened, Isabelle?" he asked, sitting down in a chair beside her, taking her hand in his. Tears streamed down her face as she explained the details of the grizzly scene.

"I didn't do it, Phillip," she concluded. "Please believe me."

He allowed himself a small smile. "Of course I believe you. We'll get through this together, I promise."

"Have you seen Stephen and Abbie?" she asked, changing the subject somewhat.

"Yes. I only hugged them a hundred times. They're upset and confused, but are doing as well as they can under the circumstances. How do you tell your niece and nephew that they are orphans and that their siblings are dead?" He rested his head in his hands.

"We all have survivor's guilt, Phillip. This is all my fault," she cried out in agony.

"No," he replied firmly. "You did not murder anyone. Remizov did, and we'll try to prove it."

A detective entered the room accompanied by his secretary to begin questioning Isabelle. Phillip gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. She marveled at his composure, and was thankful he sat beside her. The detective interrogated her for over two hours, raising his eyebrows over her lack of an alibi. She said that she had been walking through Colonial Williamsburg by herself, not wanting to put Snape anywhere near the scene of the crime. Finally, the detective left, and the officer who arrested her walked into the room.

"Ma'am, your attorney has posted bond for you, so you are free to go. Please abide by the conditions of your release," he told her.

Isabelle and Phillip walked to the front of the courthouse, and stopped abruptly. The news media swarmed outside the door, waiting for them to leave the building.

"The courthouse is charmed so that we can't disapperate, so we have to run the gauntlet," he said tersely. "Follow me as closely as you can. My car's at the very end of the second row of the parking lot. Ready?"

She nodded, and he opened the door. Flashing cameras blinded them as they hurried down the sidewalk. Phillip charmed the doors of the car open, and Isabelle slammed the door of the Trans Am quickly, nearly catching a microphone. They sat for a minute, and caught their breath before driving away.

Neither of them said anything on the way to Isabelle's house on the James River. Like all of her properties, it was in Harry's name so that Sergei didn't know about its existence. The car sped up the driveway, and stopped at the front door. They jumped out, and rushed into the house, completely exhausted.

Stephen and Abbie tackled them as soon as they crossed the threshold of the living room. Isabelle just held them for a minute, grateful that they were alive.

"Aunt Is-belle, where's Mommy and Daddy and Carrie?" Abbie asked through teary eyes.

She swallowed back her own tears. "They're in heaven, sweetie."

Phillip knelt down to their level. "Everyone's in heaven now, except for us. Some bad people came and took them away."

"Why?"

"I don't know, Stephen. I wish I did." Isabelle wrapped her arms around the upset little boy. "My parents died when I was about your age, and I know how scary it is."

"Really? What happened then?"

"Then I lived with my big sister Lily until a bad wizard named Voldemort killed her. Uncle Severus saved me from the bad people, and that's why we came to Williamsburg."

"Are the bad people coming back?"

"I hope not. But, if they do, we'll be here to protect you. Uncle Severus and I know how to fight bad wizards and witches," Isabelle reassured them.

She looked up for the first time since entering the room, and blinked in surprise. Severus sat stony faced on the sofa beside an equally dazed Stacey. Behind them, Lucius Malfoy hovered in the doorway. He was the last person she expected to see.

"Hey, why don't I take y'all to bed?" Phillip said to the children, leading them up the staircase.

"I'll walk you to your room, Isabelle, if you don't mind," Lucius asked her. She nodded curtly, and walked down the hallway.

"I can't believe you letting him take advantage of her that way," Stacey drawled indignantly. "We both know what's going to happen."

He couldn't meet her eyes. Despite his own anguish, he would rather allow Malfoy to take advantage of her vulnerability once rather than let her turn to Sirius for comfort. "What goes on behind closed doors is not my concern."

Down the hallway, Isabelle turned the doorknob to her bedroom and turned around. "Would you like to come in for a minute?"

Lucius followed her into the palatial master bedroom suite. "Quite a place you have here."

"Thank you. The view of the river is my favorite part of the entire house. I used to sit on the patio and think," she said softly, walking to the sliding glass doors and looking out into the night sky.

"Snape told me, Isabelle."

"I figured."

He crossed the room, standing behind her and wrapping his arms around her. "Raised by Sirius Black and Severus Snape. What an unholy combination."

"Tell me about it." She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked as sincerely as he was capable of.

She shook her head no. The only thing she wanted wasn't a thing at all – it was a person.

She desperately wanted to owl Sirius, to have him comfort her. But, her earlier conversation with Severus echoed through her head from deep in the recesses of her memory. No matter how much she needed him, the children came first, now more than ever. And, they needed stability in their lives. She turned around and looked Lucius in the eye.

"Will you keep me company tonight? I don't want to be alone," she asked him quietly.

"Of course, Isabelle. It's the middle of the night in England, so I can stay most of the night without anyone noticing that I'm gone. But, I have to be at work in the morning so that I don't attract the attention of the Ministry or the Dark Lord. Is that alright?" He cupped her face in his hand.

She nodded. "Thank you."

Later that evening, Lucius watched her sleeping, absentmindedly twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. She looked so angelic when she slept. He missed that; in fact, he missed everything about her. To him, Isabelle was the perfect woman – beautiful, powerful, strong, but dutiful and compliant. If he had refused her earlier, she would have accepted his decision without question or complaint. Unlike Narcissa, who nagged him constantly and second-guessed all his decisions. He frowned.

Nothing would make him happier than continuing his affair with Isabelle. However, he knew that she would leave him in a heartbeat if Sirius Black so much as breathed in her direction. That fact was clearly written on her face every time she spoke of him. What does Black have that I don't, he wondered to himself, closing his eyes to try to get at least a couple hours of sleep before he had to go to work.

-----

Sirius rushed down the familiar streets from Chelsea to Diagon Alley, furious at himself for running late. He overslept after being up for most of the night going through the old Potter and Black houses. When he was in London the day before, it occurred to him that Hermione might want to visit her parents' childhood homes. So, he visited the old neighborhood to make sure everything was in order before bringing her by.

It wasn't just the old memories that kept him awake most of the night, he admitted to himself. Before the holidays began, he was quite serious about pursuing a relationship with Sara. In fact, he had planned on having a talk with the children about it. But, then he fell deeply in love with Isabelle.

Or, rather, realized how much he loved her. Then, she took him to Williamsburg, and he saw this whole other family apart from him and the children. For the first time, he became conscious of how much she sacrificed to move to Hogwarts. She had a life that he wasn't a part of, and that stung his pride.

As a result, he spent the night pacing the hallways of the old Potter house, trying to decide what to do, who to be with. He finally made his decision around three in the morning, and set an alarm clock to wake him up shortly before the stores opened up. Unfortunately, the ancient alarm didn't work, so he found himself hurrying through the Leaky Cauldron, and into a tiny jewelry store.

He looked around, thankful that he was the only person in the store. A tall, thin-nosed man walked out of the back office and inquired if Sirius needed any assistance. He described exactly what he wanted made to the man, who blinked in surprise.

"Size four and three-quarters? Are you certain? I don't believe I've ever made a ring that small."

"Positive. I'm sure this is enough for your time and your silence," Sirius said, passing the jeweler a large stack of bills. He counted them, obviously pleased with the payment.

"Please wait." He stepped back into the office. Rainbow colored sparks shot out from the office doorway accompanied by a cacophony of screeching noises. Huffing and red-faced, he emerged five minutes later holding a tiny ring.

"Is this acceptable?" he asked.

Sirius examined it carefully, turning it over in his palm. "Yes, thank you."

The jeweler placed the ring into a deep green velvet box. He gave it to Sirius, who pocketed it quickly, and walked onto the street. He smiled. Hermione would have a fit if she knew what he had just purchased, which is a very good reason why he went ahead and bought it when she wasn't around. On his way out of Diagon Alley, the Daily Prophet caught his eye. He didn't usually bother with reading the newspapers, but the bold headline jumped at him.

Death Eater Attack in America: Seven Dead, English Witch Held for Questioning

Death Eater attack? Puzzled and concerned, Sirius paid for a paper, and began to read the lead article.

Yesterday afternoon, Death Eaters entered the home of Jake Parker, the head of the Office of Intelligence for the Williamsburg office of the OMA, killing him, his wife Brittany Spence Parker, and their two daughters, Mary Jane and Rose. Also killed in the attack were Thomas Spence, his wife Sarah Lindsay Parker Spence, and their daughter Caroline. Amazingly, two children survived the attack by unknown means – Stephen Parker and Abigail Spence.

Law enforcement officers arrived on the scene shortly after the attack and arrested Isabelle Evans, charging her with the murders. Interestingly, these are the first murders attributed to Death Eaters since Ms. Evans' sister, Lily Potter, was killed along with her husband James. Ms. Evans, a professor at Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, was released on bond late yesterday afternoon and is scheduled to appear in court today.

Sirius felt sick to his stomach. History was repeating itself. He forced himself to focus the multitude of thoughts racing through his head. Why hadn't Isabelle contacted him? Surely an owl or whatever bird she used when she was overseas would've found him by now. He had to find her and help her. The clock overhead struck ten o'clock in the morning. It was still the middle of the night in Virginia.

Good, he thought. He had enough time to visit Hermione before leaving to find Isabelle. He disapperated to the Grangers' neighborhood and walked up the street, gathering his thoughts together. Hermione spotted him from the living room window, and rushed out to meet him, clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"What is going on, here? Have you seen Isabelle? Is she alright?" she said in a rush.

"All I know is what's in the paper. I'm getting ready to go to Williamsburg now," he replied.

"I'm going with you."

He shook his head no. "The best thing for you to do is to stay here where you're safe."

"I'm going," she said through clenched teeth.

"You're staying, and that's the end of it," he roared, crossing his arms across his chest.

"We'll see," she mumbled underneath her breath, already forming a plan to get to Virginia in her mind.

"Please don't make this difficult. I'll owl you just as soon as I find something out."

"Fine." She wouldn't meet his eyes. "Tell Isabelle I love her."

Sirius blinked in surprise; she had never said that before. "Sure."

"Take care of yourself. I don't want to become an orphan again. It's kind of lonely," she said with a feeble smile. "I love you."

"Love you too. See you soon, ok?"

"Ok." Sooner than you think, Hermione thought as she hurried up the walk to owl Harry. She wanted to be with Isabelle, and figured that she could get them out of any punishment Sirius thought of for their disobedience. She hoped, anyway, crossing her fingers. Otherwise, she might not see daylight again until her eighteenth birthday.

Sirius walked up the courthouse stairs, figuring the clerk would know where Isabelle was staying. Surely she would have to state an address as a condition of her bond. His footsteps echoed through the empty courthouse as he opened the door of the circuit court clerk's office and let himself in. A short, dumpy woman sat at the desk, half asleep.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" The woman snapped to attention at the sound of his voice.

"What can I do for you, sir?" she drawled.

"I would like to see the Isabelle Evans file, if you don't mind," he asked as politely as possible.

"Actually, I do mind. The file is sealed." She narrowed her eyes.

"Aren't circuit court files public record? They can't be sealed," Sirius argued, exasperated.

"Well, this one is."

"Alright, fine. I just want to know the address on her bond paperwork. Isabelle's my--" his voice trailed off. What was she to him, anyway? The clerk looked at him expectantly.

"Your what? Look, mister, I don't know who you are, but I'm not allowed to release any information about the case. You can come back at noon for the grand jury hearing."

"Pardon me, but who are you and why do you want to see Isabelle Evans?" a deep voice beside him asked. He looked to his right, and saw a weary looking wizard holding a massive stack of papers. The man had the same deep blue eyes as Stephen, and blonde curly hair like all of the Spences.

The wizard turned towards the clerk's desk, and instantly recognized the man in front of him. So, this is Isabelle's Sirius, Phillip thought to himself. Why is he here asking for her whereabouts? Hasn't she owled him? His brow furrowed.

"Sirius Black. You must be Phillip Spence. Sorry to meet you under these circumstances."

"Likewise." He dropped the pile of paperwork on the clerk's desk. "Amanda, the top forms are the standby guardianship petitions for Stephen and Abbie, followed by custody petitions. The pleadings for Isabelle's court date today are at the bottom."

The clerk thumbed through the stack to make sure everything was in order. "Thank you, Phillip. I hope you can straighten out this mess."

"Me, too. You can come with me," he said, leading Sirius through the door and into the hallway. He eyed him for a minute, and spoke. "She's at her house in town. I'm heading back there now before the children wake up. Do you need a ride?"

"Yes, actually."

"I'm guessing you haven't spoken to Isabelle yet."

"No, I haven't."

"Honestly, that surprises me," Phillip said, getting into his car. "Well, it was a nightmarish day."

"I can imagine."

I bet, he thought, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he headed towards the river. "Isabelle's trial is at noon. Well, you heard the clerk say that. I'm glad Stacey's here to watch the children for a couple of hours so that I can prepare my argument. I really want to spend the morning with them, but it's better to get this farce over with as quickly as possible."

"Stacey Ferguson? The one who's with Snape?"

"Yeah, glad he's here, too. Although, from what I've heard, you and he don't get along very well."

"To put it mildly." Just wonderful, Sirius scowled as the car rocketed up the driveway, hoping that he could somehow see Isabelle without having to deal with Snape.

A strikingly pretty, average height, dark auburn haired woman opened the door. "Stephen's havin breakfast ihn the kitchen, and Abbie's still asleep, Phillip."

Sirius blinked. What language is she speaking, he wondered, because it certainly didn't sound like English to him. He had grown accustomed to Isabelle's soft, flowing Virginia accent, and assumed all people from southern America spoke the same way. Obviously not; this woman completely butchered the English language into barely decipherable phrases.

"Thank you for watching them, Stacey." He walked off towards the kitchen to see his nephew before heading to the study.

"Anhd who are you?" she said, one hand on her hip. Actually, she knew exactly who he was, and why he was here. And she didn't like it one bit. In her opinion, he ruined Isabelle's life and left Severus to pick up the pieces.

"Sirius Black. I'm here to see Isabelle. Where is she?"

"Isahbayle's asleep. Maybe you shood come back to see her lahter." She looked straight in the eyes. "Maybe you shoodn't have left at all."

His jaw dropped. She had some nerve to criticize his decisions. He swallowed, trying to control his temper; his nerves were nearly frazzled. No wonder she and Snape get along so well, he grumbled internally.

"Perhaps not," he said evenly. "Is her bedroom on the first floor or second?"

"Furst."

"Thank you." He walked down the long hallway, knocking on the only closed door. No answer. He sighed, and opened the door. She stirred at the sound of the door closing.

"Lucius? I thought you left hours ago," she said, flipping over. Her eyes flew wide open.

"Isabelle, that is, uh, am I interrupting something here, because if I am, I'll just leave," Sirius studdered. "I just wanted to make sure that you're ok, and obviously you are, so I'll be going now." He began to make a quick escape for the door.

"No! Please wait." Sirius paused in the doorway. "The only thing you're interrupting is my nightmares. Please stay."

He shut the door behind him, crossed the room, and sat on the edge of the bed. She buried her head in his chest, sobbing. Several times, she tried to speak, but every time the words got caught in her throat.

"Hey, it's ok. You don't have to say anything. I understand," he said gently. She hiccuped, and looked into his eyes.

"I killed them, Sirius. Why was I too blind to see that they were in danger? How can I look into Stephen and Abbie's eyes knowing it's my fault they're orphans?"

"The same way I'm looking in your eyes now, Belle. I killed your sister."

"No, Voldemort did. You tried to save her."

"And Remizov killed your friends. You can't keep looking back, thinking of all the ways you could've changed things. That will only drive you crazy, and won't change a thing. I know it's hard, believe me, I lived it, but you need to pick up the pieces and try to move on."

"How, when the only thing I want to do is die. Everyone I love is either dead or in mortal danger because of me. My daughter, my sister, my parents -- all dead, and that's just the beginning. I have nothing to live for."

"Yes, you do. The children need you. I need you. I love you, Isabelle."

She rested her head on his shoulder, thinking about his words, not knowing how to respond. "I love you, too."

But not the way I love you, Sirius thought. No matter how desperately he wanted to tell her how he felt about her, he knew that she needed him as a friend right now. If anyone understood her agony, he did. So, simply having her in his life had to be enough – for now.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Nine o'clock. Hungry?"

"No, thirsty. I think I'll go get some orange juice."

"I'll go get it. Be right back." He walked into the hallway, suddenly hearing a familiar female voice. His blood boiled, and he tried to get his temper in check before entering the kitchen.

"If you mix the yellow paint on this finger, with the blue paint on this finger, the paper turns green, see?"

"Oooh," squealed an excited little voice. Abbie looked up from her finger painting, and pointed a pudgy, paint-covered finger at the doorway. "That's Sir-us. He knows Aunt Is-belle."

"Good morning, Papa," Hermione said in an overly cheerful voice.

"Indeed. Abbie, can I borrow your art teacher for a minute?"

"Ok, Sir-us."

He led Hermione by the arm into the empty living room. "Explain yourself."

"I just wanted to be here for Isabelle," she said quietly.

"I told you to stay at home."

"I know, but Harry and I decided that--"

"Harry's here, too?" His voice rose.

"Yeah. He's teaching Stephen to play Quiddich in the backyard. I owled him this morning, and well, we decided that we could help them because we know what they're going through."

Sirius shut his eyes and counted to ten slowly before continuing. "Let's back up this conversation a bit, ok? What did I tell you to do?"

"Stay home."

"And, in your infinite wisdom, you overruled my decision. I don't care that you had the best motives in the world. Yesterday, Isabelle's psychopathic ex-husband killed seven people and framed her for the murders because she hurt his feelings when she left him. I wanted you to stay put for your own safety, not to punish you."

"I'm sorry." Her chin quivered.

"Sorry just isn't good enough, Hermione. When Isabelle or I tell you to do something, do it. Don't ask questions, don't disobey us, just trust us."

"I understand."

"Do you?" he said sharply. "You could've gotten killed. Death Eaters already targeted you once, and seem to make a sport out of trying to kill Harry."

"Hermione? I didn't know you were here," Isabelle said, walking into the room, immediately realizing that she interrupted one of Sirius' lectures. Grateful for the interruption, she rushed over and gave Isabelle a huge hug.

"We came as soon as we found out what happened," she explained. "Well, it took a little while to find the house."

"How did you get here?" Isabelle asked through narrowed eyes.

"Excellent question," Sirius added, still irate.

"We took the Floo network to the courthouse in Williamsburg, and then went to the circuit court clerk's office to do a deed search to find where Isabelle's property is. Well, she doesn't own property here – but Harry does. So, then we took a taxi here and some lady named Stacey came to the door. She went to the store with Professor Snape an hour ago."

"When are they getting back?" Isabelle asked.

"Stacey said that they would meet you at the courthouse before the trial starts. Is she dating Professor Snape, because it sure looked that way." She shuddered, making a horrific face. "I don't know how anyone could find him at all attractive."

"You'd be surprised," Isabelle muttered underneath her breath so that only Sirius heard her. He gave her a poisonous look, and stormed out the room to talk to Harry.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Oh, he's just in one of his angry moods," she said smoothly. "Takes nothing to set him off – you know that."

"Set who off?" Phillip asked, walking into the room with a large stack of papers. Hermione turned bright red, obviously impressed.

"Sirius. How's the argument coming along?"

"As good as it's going to get. I can't believe the mess the Commonwealth's going to argue this afternoon. These pleadings are ridiculous," he fumed, running his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry you have to go through this."

"I'm sorry, too, Phillip. You don't have to represent me if it's too hard on you. I'll understand," Isabelle said quietly.

"I owe it to you and my family's memory to make sure justice is served." Abbie ran into the room, wrapping herself around his legs. "Hey, sweetie. What have you been up to this morning?"

"I ate toast and then I painted."

"What did you paint?" He picked her up, examining her stained fingers.

"Trees. She showed me." Abbie pointed to Hermione, who was still a vivid shade of pink.

"Oh," he said. "Are you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"No," she shook her head seriously. "I can't say her name."

Isabelle burst out laughing, which was a welcome stress release. "Phillip, this is Hermione, Sirius' daughter. Hermione, this is my friend Phillip Spence."

"Nice to meet you." He shifted Abbie, and extended his hand.

"You, too," she mumbled, shaking his hand.

He looked back at Isabelle. "Are you ready to leave? I want to get to the courtroom in time to voir dire the grand jury."

"Sure. I just want to say hi to Harry and tell Stephen and Sirius goodbye." She grabbed her wrap from the couch, and went outside.

"What does voir dire mean?" Hermione asked shyly.

Phillip smiled. "It means that I'm going to ask the jury members questions to make sure that they're not biased against Isabelle. If I or the Commonwealth thinks that a jury member's prejudiced, we can dismiss that person and have an alternate selected."

"What's a grand jury hearing?"

"Well, in the old days, there weren't such things as private investigators, policemen, or intelligence agents. So, when someone was charged with a crime, the Court chose a group of ordinary men and women to be the investigators, called a grand jury. Nowadays, the grand jury doesn't usually investigate anything. But, they do hear the preliminary evidence and arguments by counsel and decide whether the case should be dismissed or proceed to full trial. I'm hoping the grand jury will drop the charges."

"What are the chances of that?"

"I don't know."

Voices echoed down the hallway, interrupting her train of thought. Stephen stomped in the room, carrying his broomstick, followed by an exhausted Harry. They both collapsed on the couch, putting their feet up on the coffee table. A minute later, Isabelle and Sirius walked into the room together, talking quietly.

"We'll be back later this afternoon," Sirius told Hermione. "The wireless is in the study. You can listen to the trial there."

"But--" she began.

"No buts. The two of you are to stay with Stephen and Abbie. There's plenty of security around this place, so you will be safe unless you run off somewhere."

She and Harry both looked incredibly disappointed that they weren't allowed to go to the courthouse, but didn't argue. They hugged Isabelle goodbye, and watched the car drive out of sight. Hermione looked at the children, thinking about how incredibly unfair life was.

"So, do you know where the study is?" Harry asked.

"It's down the hallway to the left," Stephen replied. "Is Aunt Isabelle going to jail?" "I hope not," he replied.

They walked into the study, where Harry fiddled with the wireless receiver until the local station came in clearly. He looked at his watch. It was quarter till noon. He turned up the volume, and sat on the floor beside Abbie, who was coloring.

Minutes from now, the grand jury trial of Isabelle Evans will begin. Ms. Evans, former ballet dancer and current professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in England, was visiting Williamsburg on holiday when the murders occurred. She has just entered the courtroom with her lawyer, Phillip Spence. In addition to being the former paramour of Ms. Evans, Mr. Spence is related by blood or marriage to all of yesterday's victims. His representation of the defendant is quite puzzling to all involved.

"It's not puzzling," Hermione snapped at the wireless. "She's innocent, you gits."

Her former guardian, Sirius Black, who was acquitted last year of the murder of Ms. Evans' sister, also accompanies the defendant. After his release, he and the defendant took up residence together at the Hogwarts School, where they raise his daughter and her nephew.

"Took up residence together? Makes it sound like they're having some sort of love affair," Harry said indignantly.

"I wish," Hermione replied.

"Speaking of love affairs and whatnot, what's going on with you and Ron?"

"You know what."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Other than that."

"Prat." She sighed. "I don't know. Viktor gets back from Bulgaria in a couple of days, so time's running out. And I have no idea what to do."

"Dump one or the other. Pretty simple."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"Anytime."

"So, did you snog Ginny when you were at the Burrow?" she retaliated.

"What?" he stuttered, turning bright red.

"I knew it!" she said triumphantly. "How'd you manage that, with all those brothers around?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "They were a little too caught up in the wedding frenzy to notice us sneaking off."

"Oh, when's the wedding?"

"Easter holidays."

They sat in silence for a minute, listening to the opening statements by the judge.

"Where's Professor Patil, anyway? You'd think he'd be here with Isabelle," Hermione huffed.

"Sirius told me that he owled her some lame excuse about needing to be with his family for the holidays." Harry rolled his eyes. "Where's the wicked stepmother?"

"Apparently she couldn't close her store to come here because of the busy return season after the holidays. Maybe she'll just disappear," she said hopefully.

"Maybe."

Hermione scooted from the couch to sit beside Harry on the floor, rested her chin on her knees, and listened to the prosecution drone on and on. Finally, the Commonwealth rested. All four children sat up, and moved closer to the wireless as the judge gave Phillip Spence permission to begin his argument.

May it please the Court, my name is Phillip Spence, and I represent the defendant, Isabelle Evans, in this grand jury hearing.

"Wow. What an accent," Hermione gushed.

"Oh, for crying out loud. Isabelle's on trial for murder, and you're thinking about her ex-boyfriend's accent?"

"He's smart, too."

Harry gave her an evil look. She shrugged, and tilted her head to hear the argument better.

The Commonwealth correctly pointed out the similarities between this crime and the murders of Ms. Evans' sister and brother-in-law fourteen years ago. To believe this is more than mere coincidence requires a logical connection that frankly, doesn't even make sense. Fourteen years ago, Ms. Evans was a target of Lord Voldemort herself. The only reason she survived the attack was because of the intervention of a merciful Death Eater.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my client is not a murderer. She had no motive to kill her friends and three godchildren. Whoever committed this crime purposely constructed it to mirror her own sister's murder – an incredibly evil and clever touch. I ask you today to honor my family's memory by allowing my client to grieve in peace, without a cloud of suspicion hovering over her. Thank you.

There was a rustling sound, as the jury adjourned to deliberate. The reporters commentated on the two arguments, and the possible outcomes. Finally, the jury reached a decision, and filed back into the courtroom. Hermione clutched Harry's hand as the forewoman began to speak.

Before we continue, the members of the jury and I would like to express our heartfelt sympathy for the Spence and Parker families for their great losses yesterday. This grand jury has reached a unanimous verdict in this matter. We decline to certify these charges to the circuit court and drop all charges against the defendant, Isabelle Evans.

Because of the nature of this case, the jury would like to explain its rationale to the Court. We do not believe the theory that Ms. Evans was a participant in her sister's murder fourteen years ago along with her guardian, Sirius Black. This would require two logical presumptions that are not grounded in fact: one, that Mr. Black was a participant in the murders, which he was not; and two, that Ms. Evans and Mr. Black had some collective motive to commit the crimes.

Now, the Commonwealth argued that their current cohabitation shows a motive, which was that they desired to pursue a love affair, which was frowned upon and possibly forbidden by Ms. Evans' sister, Lily. The jury finds that assertion absolutely ridiculous based on the evidence. First, Mrs. Potter would never allow her sister to be in an environment she considered unsafe. In addition, the evidence shows that Mr. Black tried to adopt Ms. Evans shortly before the murders occurred. It flies against common sense that a man would adopt a young woman he desired to have an affair with.

Even if Mr. Black and Ms. Evans were having an affair, Ms. Evans was sixteen at the time of the murders, well above the age of legal consent. While most people would consider a relationship between a twenty-six year old man and a sixteen year old girl repugnant, it would not have been illegal. As for the present, the jury makes no findings as to the current status of the parties' relationship because we do not feel that it makes a difference in this case whatsoever.

Because the jury refuses to accept the presumption that Ms. Evans acted as a party to her sister's murder, alone or with Mr. Black, the jury declines to believe the theory that the crimes mirror each other because the style of the killings is her modus operandi.

The jury also rejects the theory that Ms. Evans participated in the murders along with her former husband, Count Sergei Remizov. Again, that theory requires two invalid presumptions: one, that Count Remizov is a Death Eater; and two, that Ms. Evans and Count Remizov are somehow allied despite their current bitter divorce proceedings. There is no evidence to prove either presumption.

Based on these facts, the jury holds that Ms. Evans is not liable or culpable for the brutal murders that transpired yesterday.

A loud murmuring erupted in the courtroom. The judge pounded his gavel against the bench repeatedly.

Order! Order! The Court notes the jury's decision. Ms. Evans, you are free to go. This Court is adjourned.