Disclaimer: None of the recognizable characters and settings belong to me. They are all the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just playing around with them for the fun of it…no monetary gain is sought.
This story is dedicated to scatteredlogic for her cherished friendship and all her invaluable help.
Chapter Forty Five: RevelationsMinerva sat at the table and watched as Albus ushered Irma through the small door in the back wall of the room and closed it behind them. The courtroom erupted in noisy speculation as soon as most of the principals in this little drama disappeared from view. She, however, had no one to speculate with. It certainly didn't seem fair that she should be excluded from whatever was taking place behind that door, but clearly there wasn't anything that she could do to change things.
What was in that black book anyway? Irma said it was a spell that she and Severus had spent days searching for. If that was true, why hadn't any of them told her about it? She'd talked recently with both Albus and Severus, and neither of them had mentioned a word of this.
It was her life that was at stake here. Didn't they understand how important it was for her to know what was being done to protect it? Ever since Ian had shown up on her doorstep with his nasty little surprise, her entire life had been yanked out of her control and tossed to the fates, and she hated it.
With a frown creasing her brow, she rubbed a thoughtful hand across her face and rested her chin in her palm as a different idea occurred to her. Perhaps that was what was concerning them. Maybe they'd been afraid to tell her what they were looking for just in case they hadn't been able to find it in time. That made sense. They wouldn't have wanted to raise her hopes only to have to dash them with their failure to come through with the spell.
What sort of a spell was it anyway? From the small amount that she'd been able to gather from listening to bits and pieces of Irma's conversation with Albus, it sounded as if the spell allowed you to somehow alter the spells that someone cast with a wand, though that sounded rather farfetched, and it produced a bluish green flash.
As memory jabbed at her, she straightened up abruptly. The flash that her wand had emitted in the pensieve memories had been bluish green, but it shouldn't have been if she'd cast Avada Kadavra. The killing curse always produced a vivid emerald green flash. Even though she'd never seen the curse actually used, she knew that much. Why hadn't she thought of that before? Could this spell have somehow caused her to cast the killing curse accidentally? Was such a thing even possible?
Full of frustration, she threw herself back in her chair restlessly and tightened the fist that lay in her lap. Damn it! She wanted some answers, and she wanted them now. She certainly deserved some if anyone did. Where was Severus? Irma had said that they'd both been searching for this spell, and that she and Severus had tested it out together. So he must know about it being found. Had he come with Irma to the courtroom? Obviously, he couldn't be seen handing evidence to Albus that would help with her trial, but that didn't mean that he couldn't be lurking back there amongst the mob of onlookers.
Minerva turned in her seat and scanned the faces of the increasingly noisy crowd for some sign that Severus was in the room, but searching through the waving mass of faces made her dizzy. Lightbulbs exploded in her eyes and dazzled them into blindness, forcing her to turn back without finding the face she sought. As she returned her eyes to the front of the room, she did happen to notice the face of her ex-husband as he sat a few feet away from her and stared off into space with a grim, self-absorbed expression. He looked rather pale and decidedly unhappy. If Irma's evidence was making Ian nervous then that could only be good for her she decided, so with a mild sigh of impatience, Minerva settled herself down to wait for Albus and the others to return.
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Inside the private meeting room, the Tribunal had taken seats behind the only table that the room contained. Percy Weasley set himself up at a small desk in a corner and watched the group expectantly, while everyone else clustered in front of the Wizengamot members.
Madam Bones, having already read the information in the black book, passed it on to Athelbert Carstairs, who perched a pair of gold pince nez on his prominent nose and began to read. Too impatient to wait his turn, Jeriah Blackstone rose from his seat and peered down at the pages over Carstairs' shoulder.
Gallagher turned rather abruptly to Dumbledore. "Well, we're in private now. Can you explain what this evidence is?"
"Don't you want to read it for yourself, Minister?"
"Oh, I'll want to read it myself, definitely, but that doesn't mean you can't explain it briefly first. What sort of book is that anyway? It looks very old. And why is this evidence so dangerous?"
Dumbledore looked at Irma Pince, who took that as her cue to answer.
"It is a very old book, Minister, several hundred years, at least. It's a dark book of spells of deception. The spell that we're concerned with here allows someone to twist the castings of another, to substitute an entirely different spell for the one that a person intended to use."
Gallagher's eyebrows rose, and he gestured casually towards his court scribe, who sat up straighter as he perceived his being the focus of conversation. "Do you mean that if I took out my wand and cast a spell on Weasley there, that you could somehow change the spell I cast using this spell?"
Pince nodded. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean."
"Preposterous! Such a thing isn't possible," asserted Gallagher testily.
"Oh, but it is, Minister, I assure you," added Dumbledore.
Gallagher frowned once more and turned to Pince again. "How did you find this spell?"
Pince exchanged glances with Dumbledore. She knew that he wanted Severus' name kept out of things, though she certainly didn't understand why, so that meant that she'd have to fudge the truth a bit. Not that she couldn't do that very well if she chose, of course, though telling the truth was always her preferred course of action. You run into so much less trouble that way.
Crossing her fingers behind her back, Irma looked Gallagher in the eye and answered his question. "I remembered running across it years ago, when I was doing some research of one sort or another. When I heard about what had happened to Minerva, the memory returned to me, and I went searching for the spell that I remembered, just in case it might have been used here. I found it in this book."
"You found this book at Hogwarts?" The Minister looked outraged. "What would such a book be doing at a school where the Dark Magic that it contains could fall into the hands of impressionable youngsters?"
Without waiting for her answer, he turned and focused his ire on Dumbledore instead. "I had thought that you'd done a creditable job overall of safeguarding the youth of our community, Dumbledore. Now I find myself wondering if that's true."
"The book wasn't in the regular collection, Minister, nor was it in the restricted section of the library. No student could access this book at all. Hogwarts is a very old castle, and it contains many things that need to be kept safe. This book was found amongst a collection that is kept well guarded from both the students and the general populace."
"My word, how fascinating," exclaimed Undersecretary Blackstone as he straightened up after having finished reading the information in the book.
His companion nodded his agreement. "Indeed, fascinating and chilling, at the same time. Didn't you think so, Madam Bones?" Carstairs turned and addressed his superior as he removed his glasses from his nose and buffed them on his robes before sliding them into a pocket.
Bones nodded. "Yes, the information in this book is very disturbing. That is, if the spell works as it says it does."
"Oh, it does," injected Pince eagerly. "I tested it out before I came here. It worked perfectly."
Dumbledore stepped closer to the table and addressed the triumvirate directly. "The spell in that book explains everything about this case. One question that I've continued to raise only to have it continually dismissed as unimportant, is why is the pensieve of memories silent. No pensieve that I've ever come across didn't include the sounds of the memories as well as the pictures. I'd imagine that's true for all of you, as well."
He raised an inquiring eyebrow and scanned their faces as everyone nodded thoughtfully, even Gallagher, though he obviously did so with some reluctance.
"This pensieve is silent, though. It had to be, in order to hide the fact that Minerva McGonagall never spoke the words necessary to cast the killing curse," stated Dumbledore emphatically.
"But it's not possible to remove the sound from a pensieve on purpose. A malfunction, perhaps…but..." Gallagher sputtered to a stop at the steely look that his opponent gave him.
"Just because we aren't aware of any method that can be used to remove the sound from a pensieve, doesn't mean there isn't one. It's not something that very many people have ever had occasion to try and do. But I believe that someone found a way to do it, because it suited their purpose to do so. The same person who removed the sound from the pensieve also cast this substitution spell on Minerva McGonagall in the first place, and probably obliviated her remaining memories, as well. If murder was done here, then it is this unknown person who should be held responsible for it, not Professor McGonagall."
"Well, we don't know that this spell was used," Gallagher exclaimed.
"You will admit, will you not, Minister, that the casting of Avada Kadavra gives off a bright emerald green flash, and the flash seen in the pensieve is a washed out bluish green? A very different color," inquired Dumbledore.
"Yes, but the fact that the flash seen in the memories isn't all that bright anymore could easily be attributed to the fact that this pensieve is defective in some way, its lack of sound could certainly indicate that, and the colors of the memories have faded after all this time. It's lain hidden for almost fifty years, after all."
"Very true. However, none of the other colors in the memories have faded at all. When I entered the pensieve, I was struck by how fresh and immediate it all looked. I had no difficulty believing that I was really there, back in the past, in that stable…except that the experience was totally silent."
Before, Gallagher could continue with the argument, Madam Bones brought her closed fist down on the table with a thump. "Gentlemen. There's no point in covering this ground again. We can settle this quite easily with a demonstration of this spell. If the spell does indeed produce the exact flash that's seen in the pensieve, then we will need to begin a reassessment of the evidence that's been presented."
Gallagher stepped up to the table and held out his hand. "If you have all had a chance to examine this spellbook by now, perhaps I could have my turn to read what it contains?"
Bones picked up the book and held it out to him. "Certainly, Minister. Page 238."
Gallagher took the book with a short nod of thanks and turned to the page in question to begin to read.
While he did that, Bones turned to Irma Pince. "Since you've tried the spell out once, Madam Pince, would you be willing to demonstrate it once again so that we may view its being cast?"
Pince nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes, Madam Interrogator. I'd be happy to demonstrate it. It will require two people, though. One to cast the substitution spell and one to cast a spell that will be interfered with."
Madam Bones smiled and looked up at Dumbledore inquiringly. "Well, Albus, I assume that you're prepared to help her provide a demonstration?"
With a pleasant nod, Dumbledore answered. "Yes, I'm quite willing to assist Madam Pince in demonstrating the spell."
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Outside in the larger courtroom, the crowd was beginning to become rather restive. The members of the press were talking to each other, trying to be sure that none of their fellows knew more about this surprising development and unexpected delay than they did. While the majority of the crowd were openly relishing the suspense and were flinging more and more outrageous theories around as they tried to figure out what it all might mean.
Ian Standish was squirming uneasily in his seat and casting furtive glances at Minerva as she sat at the defense table and looked thoughtful. At first, she'd seemed a bit disgruntled and impatient about whatever these new secret developments were, but now she was merely sitting in her seat quite calmly, seemingly resigned to waiting for everyone else to return.
Everything had been going so smoothly up until now. All the evidence had been presented, and though that fool Dumbledore had managed to cast a few questions out for the court to consider, he hadn't managed to actually refute anything that had been held up against her. There'd been no doubt in his mind that by the end of the day, Minerva would have been condemned to death for the murder of Henry Grant, and, as much as that outcome would have pained him, it was the only one that would save him from certain ruin. And if a choice between her life and his had to be made, then clearly, there was no choice at all.
Yet, all of a sudden, nothing seemed quite so certain anymore. What was in that old book that Pince had come running in to give to Dumbledore, anyway? Surely they couldn't have found that old Dark Arts spell? How many books would have it in it anyway? He'd certainly never found it anywhere other than that one old spellbook. Come to think of it, the book he'd found it in had looked a lot like the one that Pince had given to Dumbledore.
Standish frowned and bit the inside of his lip in concern. He'd run across that spell when he was barely out of school, while poking around in his grandfather's private library while no one else was home. His grandfather had never allowed anyone to touch his personal belongings, especial not books, but then, he never knew that Ian had found the hidden catch that opened the door to his private library either, now had he?
The book that had contained the spell clearly hadn't been touched in decades. He'd had to be extra careful to replace the dust when he was through examining it. It had been worth the trouble he'd gone to, though. It was such a useful spell to know. In fact, he couldn't imagine why more people didn't know about it, but no one ever seemed to, and keeping it secret had seemed like a very good idea to him. It had certainly come in handy over the years. More than one of his enemies had mysteriously succumbed to an apparently misfiring wand at an unfortunate moment.
The set up with Grant had been ideal. When that fool had refused to go along with doctoring the horses with special potions before a Muggle horse race, and then tried to blackmail him over it, well, he'd signed his own death certificate. What else had the idiot expected? The man had been quite cagey though and very careful to watch his back once he'd begun to demand money. It had taken awhile to figure out just how to handle him, but handle him he had.
The over-confident buffoon never expected the blow to come from Minerva. Not that she'd have done it willingly, but she'd been so easy to manipulate. She'd been quite willing to go down to the stables and keep Grant there while he supposedly summoned the authorities when he'd told her that Grant had stolen money from them and was planning to flee. How was she to know that the "stolen money" was what he'd already grudgingly passed to Grant to keep his mouth shut until he could shut him up for good?
The spell had worked perfectly. She'd been horrified by what had happened, naturally, and it had been so easy to play on her fears about what might happen to her if she was pregnant and was sent off to prison for murder. She'd been so pathetically eager to have a family. She'd have done anything to safeguard her child. Including disposing of Grant's body. Of course, she hadn't been pregnant at the time, but neither of them knew that for sure when they'd spoken of the possibility. She could have been. He'd certainly done his best to keep her that way…for all the good it had done him in the long run.
Standish scowled and crossed his arms as he remembered all those failed pregnancies. If only one of them had resulted in a living child…male or female, then none of this would have been necessary. He'd still have both Minerva and her estate, but there was little profit in moaning about all that now.
Of course, once the shock had worn off, Minerva had wanted to confess. She'd had such awful nightmares that it had been easy to persuade her to make use of the pensieve, but once she became determined to tell the authorities what had happened, he'd had no choice but to obliviate her. Then he'd just put the pensieve and her wand away for safe keeping, never imagining at that point how useful they'd become one day. But they'd come in handier than he'd have ever dreamed. And it had all been working out so well. Until now…
Slowly, he turned to look over at Minerva once more. If they'd actually come across that spell… If they'd figured it out… What the hell would he do?
Relax! He told himself firmly. How likely was it that they'd come across exactly that same little known spell, and even if they did, they might be able to get Minerva off, but no matter what they might suspect, they couldn't prove anything against him. He'd still be in the clear, and if he was, then he'd just have to come up with something else, and if he couldn't, his escape to someplace safe was already arranged. So there was no need to panic. No need at all. But nevertheless, he withdrew his handkerchief once again, and casually mopped his brow. It was so warm with all these people crowded in like this. You'd think they'd have ventilated the room more efficiently.
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With a little set up, they were now ready to test the substitution spell. Percy Weasley had sacrificed his chair to the effort and now stood next to his little desk hunched over to continue with his note taking, while everyone else's eyes were fastened on Dumbledore and Irma Pince.
"First, I'm going to have Irma cast an enlarging spell on this chair, to prove without a doubt that she can do it, and so you'll hear what she'll say and see the flash that her wand will produce, and can compare it to the next time, when I will intercept the spell and change it into something else." Dumbledore explained and then nodded to Irma.
She smiled back at him and took a deep breath. Then she pointed her wand at the chair and stated loudly, "Engorgio." Immediately, the chair grew to twice its size.
Everyone nodded. No surprises there.
Irma then cast a shrinking spell and returned the small wooden chair to its proper size so that they could get on with their experiment.
Dumbledore cast his eyes around the room. "Are we ready to give this a try?" he asked.
Gallagher crossed his arms and frowned. "Yes, yes. Just get on with it."
"Very well. Any time you're ready, Irma." Dumbledore smiled at his librarian, who smiled back and held her wand out once more.
"All right. Here I go…Engorgio!" she stated once more just as easily and firmly as she had the time before. The results were rather more spectacular this time.
All the watchers saw her aim at the chair and say her spell, they could see Dumbledore aim his wand at her simultaneously, but he spoke too low for any of them to be certain of what he said. The flash that sprang from Irma's wand as she cast the spell this time was a definite bluish green, very different than the last time, and the chair that she pointed at, instead of growing larger, burst into flames.
Everyone in the room, who wasn't already standing, jumped to their feet in alarm as the flames exploded upwards. Madam Bones pulled her wand out of her pocket and extinguished the fire immediately before turning to Dumbledore with a frown on her face that didn't completely hide the twinkle in her eye.
"That was a bit more dramatic than necessary, Albus. The shrinking spell that we'd discussed would have been quite adequate," she said sternly.
He smiled. "It was an impulse. I apologize, but now we know that the substitution spell will work even with fairly volatile spells."
"Yes," she muttered flatly. "We certainly do."
"Well, is that enough of a demonstration?" asked Dumbledore politely. "Surely now you can see how this crime was committed by someone other than Minerva. This spell shows exactly how everything was done. It explains the flash. It explains why Minerva looked so shocked to find Henry Grant dead at her feet when she apparently cast a spell that should have had quite a different effect. A stunning spell, perhaps. It also explains why the pensieve had to be silenced and Minerva obliviated. All of which suggests that someone other than Minerva McGonagall was guilty of this crime. Unless there are other objections, I would like to move that all charges against Minerva be dismissed."
"Absolutely not!" exclaimed Gallagher.
As everyone turned and stared at him, he directed his plea towards Madam Bones. "Yes, I will admit that this evidence is impressive. This spell could definitely have been used just as it has been demonstrated, but there's no real proof that it was. Simply because one set of circumstances appears to explain everything that happened, doesn't mean that an entirely different explanation can't be found, and then we're left with the chore of determining which set of answers is the right one. Is Minerva McGonagall the victim of a hidden spellcaster, or is she a willful murderess, whose incriminating memories happen to reside in a deteriorating pensieve. Either explanation seems plausible to me. What if we acquit her only to discover some proof at a later date that this spell was never used at all?"
"But with this large a doubt, Minister, surely you aren't suggesting that we condemn this woman to death?" exclaimed Interrogator Carstairs.
Gallagher had the grace to look uncertain. He didn't want to end up on the bad side of such important members of the Wizengemot. That would do neither his case nor his career any good whatsoever.
As they all jumped in and began to talk at once, Dumbledore held up his hand and pleaded for silence. Once he had their attention again, he said, "There's a very simple way to be certain if this spell was used or not. The book tells you how. When it's describing the effects of the spell, it mentions a resonance test that can be performed on any wand to tell if the spell was used on it."
Gallagher grabbed the book and paged back through it. "Resonance test?"
"Yes. I noticed when examining the spells in Minerva's wand by means of the Priori Incantatem that the Avada Kadavra spell produced an image that wasn't as clear as the other spells," Dumbledore said.
Bones nodded thoughtfully. "I noticed that, too." Carstairs nodded as well, while Blackstone merely looked interested.
"Apparently the substitution of one spell for another isn't perfect, and it sets up a feedback resonance in the wand. It's subtle, but it can be measured. The book tells you how to test a wand and see if the spell was used on it. Simply test Minerva's wand and see. If she wouldn't mind leaving it with you, you could test Madam Pince's wand, as well. You know that the spell was used on her wand. This would give you one more sampling…just to be absolutely certain."
Gallagher closed the book and looked up to see the others staring at him.
"Well, Minister? Do we test the wand?" asked Bones.
Gallagher nodded. "Yes, I think we should."
"And will you accept a positive test as proof of Minerva McGonagall's innocence?" asked Dumbledore.
Reluctantly, Gallagher nodded. "If the test shows that the killing curse cast by McGonagall's wand was affected by this substitution spell then I will withdraw the charges."
Irma smiled with relief and immediately handed her wand to Madam Bones. "Then here's my wand to compare it with. I know that in this way, they'll be absolutely identical."
