The Prelude
Four Dementors flanked a dark haired boy. They came to a high door, and it opened before the demons. The boy straightened his back, flicking his hair out of his face. The crowd of spectators just sat in a tense silence. The Judges of the Wizengamot sat with the utmost loathing on their faces. The jury sat with confused looks upon their faces.
Cornilus Fudge, head of the Wizengamot and Minister of Magic of Greater Britain, Stood looking down his nose at the boy being brought before him. The boy was led to a chair and sat forcibly down. The chains on the arms glowed gold and snaked around his arms and up his shoulders. He held his head up high, looking disdainfully at the judges above him.
"We will presume you are Harry Potter and proceed with the trial." The minister stated pompously.
"Well you are wrong on that count. I am not Harry Potter." The boy told them.
"Yes you are. Do not stall it will do you no good." Said the minister angrily.
"I was born Harry Potter," he spat the name as though it was too foul to give even that, "I am no longer him. Harry Potter died, and from his ashes I was born. If you must speak to me, you may address me as Anima Denuo Acerbus." He told them.
"It does not matter." The minister said, anger shining quite clearly in his eyes. "You have been accused of: four counts use of an Unforgivable, Ten counts use of the Dark arts, and two counts murder. What do you plead?" he said confident that he was in the right.
"I plead to no one. I am here because I have finished my purpose. Otherwise I would have escaped and ran." Acerbus told them haughtily.
"You will plead or we will make one for you. You are at the mercy of this court, it would do you good to remember that!" A furious woman judge had stood and shouted.
The boy's eyes flashed, pure, unadulterated, wrath flowed from him like a waterfall. He stood, breaking the chains on his arms, "I am at no mere wizards mercy. I would like to remind you that it is you who is at my mercy. You have no idea what I could do to you!" he shouted at them. He sat again and took a bored attitude with them as a whole, "If you insist I will plead not guilty." The shocked courtroom looked fearfully at him, all but one. The minister of magic's anger was even greater than before.
Now is where we must divert from what promises to be an interesting trial. For to completely understand the events that follow we must first see the tale itself.
A hunt. A hunt for a murderer, and her extermination. The story of a boy that became a man. A tale of rage, of blood, of pain, and of death.
What happened for a boy to seek out, torture, and kill a woman? Well it all started with a letter. A letter from the woman he killed. A letter from Bellatrix Lestrange.