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 Seven: Vengeance

When Ian reached the site of Grant's demise, he yanked open the door impatiently and stepped into the warm semi-darkness within the old building. The stables were sparsely lit with a few magical lanterns along the central corridor. There hadn't been any creatures larger than cats and owls living there for decades, so there wasn't any point in keeping it lit up as if the building was in use everyday.

When the door closed behind him with a sharp click that echoed loudly in the silence, a sudden feeling of unease caused a brief shiver to run through him, but he shook it off impatiently and forced himself to move forward. With a determined stride, he began to walk up the central corridor between the empty stalls, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Even though it had been a long time since horses had been housed here, an odd musky scent still seemed to linger in the air. Before he'd gone very far, several robed and masked figures abruptly stepped out of the darkness of the stalls on either side of him and completely blocked his path.

With a gasp, Standish pulled back and whirled around, only to discover that more dark and silent figures stood behind him with their wands pointed at his head.

"Hello, Ian," a soft, seductive voice snaked out of the dimness to caress his mind, sending ice cascading down his spine. He swallowed the huge lump in his throat with a reflexive gulp as a tall, dark woman stepped out of the shadows and smiled a cold smile into his wide eyes.

"Bellatrix," Ian whispered. His heart began to pound fiercely. This couldn't be happening, not now, not when he was so close to escaping.

The woman raised an eyebrow and gestured towards the bag that he now clutched protectively to his chest with trembling hands. "Going somewhere?"

"No, of course, not. I was merely coming to get some papers that I needed from the office. I've been neglecting my work a bit what with the trial and all," Standish stammered nervously as he tried to think up a good explanation for his being in the stables.

"Ah, yes, the trial. Today was a bit of a surprise now, wasn't it? Suddenly, it looks as if Minerva McGonagall won't be swinging from a gibbet after all. What a shame. I was really looking forward to that. You've disappointed me, Ian, but what's more important, you've disappointed our Master." She shook her head mournfully. "I really thought you knew better than that."

Standish let go of his bag with one hand to make a small futile gesture of remorse. "I did the best I could. It isn't my fault that Dumbledore seems to have figured out what happened. We're only speculating, anyway. The old man has no real proof of anything, no matter what he suspects. Gallagher's case is strong. Minerva could still be convicted. We won't know for certain until tomorrow."

"Mmmm…perhaps, but I have it on good authority that she very likely will be acquitted. Apparently, that old fool of a Headmaster is cleverer than you thought. He's figured out whatever you did to forge those pensieve memories and has managed to persuade Bones to listen to his arguments. So there's little likelihood that you'll be able to get your hands on McGonagall's property, after all. This displeases the Master, and he's sent us to fetch you. He wants to know just how you're going to get him what you promised now, and he wants to hear it from you." Her eyes gleamed in anticipation.

Standish let out a long nervous breath. "Ahhh…I can give the Master what he wants even without McGonagall's land." Desperately, he held out his bag. "I have a start right here, and there's more in the office. Then there's some of my own property that I can sell off which will make up the difference. I've never failed to make good on my promises before. This time will be no different. Lord Voldemort will just have to give me a little more time." As she began to shake her head, he cried desperately, "Not much! Just a little more!"

Bellatrix emitted a silvery laugh that chilled the hearts of all who heard it. "My Lord isn't a patient man, Ian. I thought you'd have learned that by now, and he's given you far too much time and far too many chances already. It's time to go now. Please, don't be tedious about it. You need to face up to your failure like a real man. You can plead and grovel at his feet…just like the rest of them."

Overcome with panic, Standish turned and tried to run, shoving aside the nearest Death Eater, who didn't even try to stop him. Before he could get more than a few steps down the corridor, Bellatrix's voice, full of voluptuous hatred, echoed through his frightened mind.

"Crucio!"

As cold agony burst through him, Standish fell to the ground. The overwhelming pain twisted and seared the nerves in his body and reduced him to a pitiful mass of writhing flesh on the straw strewn floor of the stables.

Bellatrix glided across the floor to tower above him and nudge his body with a well-shod foot as she held the curse for a long moment, savoring her power and his pain.

"Thank you for being so predictable. I do love having the chance to use that spell. Ah, well, playtime's over. I'm afraid that it's time to pay the piper, Ian," she whispered with satisfaction as she released him from his agony and watched him lay gasping weakly as tears coursed down his cheeks and disappeared into his beard. With a brisk nod, she stepped back and gestured casually to two of those who waited to do her bidding.

The Death Eaters stepped forward and picked up Standish's limp body from the floor, holding him tightly. The man raised red-rimmed eyes full of panicked pleading to Bellatrix and whispered, "Please, don't do this. I can get the Dark Lord his money. Just give me a little more time."

A cruel smile twisted Bellatrix' lips as she stepped closer to the desperate Standish. Deliberately, she rubbed her gaunt cheek against his bristly one and kissed him full on the lips, murmuring softly, "That's up to our Master, Ian. It's out of my hands. Let's go and see what he says, shall we?" With a dark chuckle, she stepped back and nodded to the others. Silently, the entire group vanished, leaving the stables apparently empty once more.

After a long moment of utter silence, Snape's dark figure stepped out of a shadowed doorway where he'd concealed himself, and he smiled a vengeful smile of satisfaction.

That would be the end of Ian Standish. After the Dark Lord heard Snape's version of Standish's failure, there wasn't any chance that the man was going to be able to weasel out of this. Standish was a dead man, and Snape was glad of it. With Standish failing to make good on his promise of money for the Dark Lord's coffers, that would likely put a crimp in some of Voldemort's nasty plans as well, so this was all to the good. The Potions master dearly hoped that he'd be able to watch Standish's demise, because he longed to see the man suffer miserably for what he'd done to Minerva, but that was up to Voldemort. He'd done all he could for the moment.

Of course, Standish was only the first. A suitable punishment would have to be devised for Acting Minister Gallagher as well. There were bound to be a few skeletons in his closet. He was a politician, after all, and not above corruption and stepping over the bodies of the innocent on his way to the top. He'd proved that by trying so hard to kill Minerva. A very bad move on his part.

Snape's jaw tightened as he thought about how close that man had come to actually murdering her. Yes, there had to be something that he could dig up and use against him. No doubt somewhere along the way someone as ambitious as he was had ruffled the wrong set of feathers. It was just a matter of time and the use of a little resourcefulness before he figured out the proper revenge there, but he would figure it out…and soon.

Then there was Andrew Pitt and his crew of randy thugs. Their punishment was much simpler. Poor creatures. It was so hard for them to manage out there on that wind swept rock with no women to see to their baser needs. Perhaps the answer to their prayers would be to simply eliminate those needs forever. A cruel smirk crept across Snape's face as he thought about the revenge that he'd already set in motion.

The next few shipments of food to Azkaban would have an extra special ingredient included, one that over a short interval of time would put an end to all those nasty urges for good. Who knows? Perhaps they'd even thank him…if they had any idea who to thank, of course, which they wouldn't. He'd made some effort to see that the foods that were affected were the ones saved for the guards, but a certain amount of overlap with the prisoners was probably unavoidable. Not that most of them would likely even notice considering their current circumstances. Idly, he found his thoughts straying to Lucius Malfoy, one of the more prominent of the current crop of prisoners. Hopefully, for once, the arrogant fool wasn't trying to buy added favors and special treats with his fortune. He just might end up regretting it if he was and wouldn't that be a shame.

Without warning, a sharp, angry burning burst forth from the brand of servitude on his left arm. Someone wasn't in a very good mood…how unfortunate. Slowly, Snape brought his right hand up to caress the pulsing pain with supple fingers as he curled his left hand into a fist and tightened it abruptly. For the first time in his life, he was looking forward to a summons, and with a smile of immense satisfaction, he eagerly vanished, off to watch the pitiful Ian Standish plead for mercy that he didn't have a prayer in hell of attaining.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Minerva sat tensely in her seat as the courtroom filled up behind her. If it was possible for the room to be any more crowded than it had been the day before, it certainly seemed to be. There was barely room to breathe. Every available seat was filled, and the walls were lined with people two and three deep, all waiting impatiently to see whether she'd be convicted or not. The feeling of anticipation was so strong that you could practically grab handfuls of it out of the air. It was hard to tell which way popular sentiment was leaning though. Would they be disappointed with a not guilty verdict? She fervently hoped not.

Carefully, she cast furtive glances around the room without making it too obvious that she was searching for someone in particular, but no matter where she cast her eyes, she couldn't see Ian anywhere. The place where he'd sat so prominently for the start of the trial was now filled by another, and he was nowhere to be seen. Obviously, he'd made assumptions about the secret evidence that only someone who knew the truth about it would make, and he'd fled during the night rather than stay and possibly be accused of murder in her place. He was going to get away with it! That knowledge lit a burning anger deep within her that she knew would be difficult to put out.

Finally, she dragged her thoughts back to the present, as the door across the room opened and the Tribunal made its stately way into the courtroom. Everyone rose respectfully and the buzz of excited voices died to a barely audible muttering that scuttled around the edges of hearing range.

Once everyone was in their place, the audience sat down again and waited for Amelia Bones to thump her marble in its dish and call the court to order, which she wasted no time in doing.

As the echo died away and the marble glowed bright purple, Madam Bones cleared her throat and addressed the court. "When I dismissed the court yesterday, we had just reconvened after a private consideration of some late submitted evidence. We adjourned to consider this evidence in more detail and to take a closer look at its finer points of interest. We are now finished with our examination and have drawn our conclusions.

"I do feel that I must apologize at this time to you, the members of the public, who have been so patient throughout this trial. Up to now, all evidence has been publicly disclosed, however, that will not be the case with the evidence that we examined behind closed doors yesterday. This evidence, although very powerful and important to this case, will not be made a matter of public record. It is of a highly sensitive nature, and as such, will not be put forth in open court. Though, obviously, it will be considered when rendering a verdict, which will be a matter of public record."

A slightly discontented whispering began to spread through the crowd like a wave. Once it had run its course, Bones nodded and turned to the defense table.

"Professor Dumbledore. Do you have a motion to place before the court?" she asked in a matter of fact tone, clearly expecting him to make a motion for dismissal of charges.

Dumbledore rose from his seat and nodded towards the high bench. "Thank you for the opportunity Madam Bones, but we have decided not to ask for a dismissal of the charges."

A muttering began to swell, but a pause and a stern look from Bones cut it off.

Dumbledore continued, "Minerva McGonagall's reputation has been dragged through the mud and the court of public opinion by the charges that have been presented against her. Throughout most of this trial, you have all acted as if her guilt was merely an inconvenient matter of formality. Now that evidence has been presented that refutes those charges, I think it only fair that a verdict of not guilty be rendered in this case. That way no one will be left with any doubt as to her innocence. Especially since the evidence that cleared her name will not be made public." He was very aware, as was Minerva, that without that public airing of the evidence, some people would always harbor doubts, and he was determined to do all that he could to stop as much of that silent whispering as possible.

Bones nodded thoughtfully. "Very well. Do either you or Minister Gallagher wish to make a final statement?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I cannot speak for Minister Gallagher. However, we are content to accept your verdict based on the evidence presented, as we are certain that you will rule that Minerva McGonagall is not guilty of this crime." He then sat back down and turned to smile reassuringly at Minerva who returned his smile as confidently as she could manage.

Bones then turned to the Minister of Magic, who looked a trifle more subdued than he had before, matching his somber attire with a calm and slightly discontented expression. He rose to his feet very slowly and, not looking anywhere but at the Tribunal on the bench, he stated solemnly, "I have nothing to add to the case that I presented, Madam Bones."

An expression of satisfaction flashed across her face, and her monocle glimmered in the torchlight. Dumbledore heaved a silent sigh of relief at this capitulation by the Minister of Magic. He'd been certain that the positive test results on Minerva and Irma's wands, which he'd been told about before court began, would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that someone other than Minerva had cast the killing curse. Yet a small part of him had worried that since Gallagher had attached his reputation as a firm and decisive Minister of Magic so strongly to the outcome of this trial that he might still be trying to find a way to save face, and in doing so, might muddy the waters of Minerva's acquittal. Now it appeared that that wouldn't be the case. Perhaps the man now pinned his hopes on the fact that under his watch a horrid miscarriage of justice had been averted. There were many ways to spin a defeat, after all, and Minister Gallagher was an expert spinner, without a doubt.

"Very well," Bones paused and glanced at the other two members of her team, who were watching her complacently, seemingly content to allow her to do all the talking for the three of them, before turning back to the courtroom and stating their verdict.

"We find the defendant, Minerva McGonagall, to be not guilty of the murder of Henry Grant."

A huge uproar surged outward from the watching crowd, and Bones began to bang her marble against its dish in order to attract everyone's attention and to get them to settle down once more because she had a bit more to add to her pronouncement. Once quiet had mostly been restored, she continued, "Professor Dumbledore has a valid point, in that as long as the deciding pieces of evidence must remain secret, there are likely to be those who might doubt the validity of Professor McGonagall's acquittal.

"Therefore, I would like to add for the record, that all three of us on this Tribunal are completely and unanimously satisfied that Minerva McGonagall has no culpability whatsoever in the death of Henry Grant. As far as we are concerned, she has been completely cleared of all charges. Unfortunately, the evidence doesn't allow us to point the finger of guilt at anyone else, at this time."

Dumbledore noticed that her eyes shifted momentarily to where Ian Standish had been sitting throughout the trial, and she manifested a faint frown at not finding him there today.

Bones continued, "So, for now, we must state for the record that Henry Grant met his death through the actions of a person as yet unknown to this court. Further investigation into this death will be pursued by the Department of Law Enforcement. Court is now adjourned."

Minerva let out a huge shaky breath as the marble ball thumped one last time, and its glow was finally extinguished. Then she turned to embrace Dumbledore tightly. It was over; at last, this long, horrible nightmare was over. "Thank you, Albus. Thank you, so much," she whispered softly.

He embraced her back equally strongly, but before he could reply, she was besieged by well wishers from the watching crowd. Irma and Remus and the Weasleys, every last one of them, had to hug and congratulate her and reiterate how they'd never doubted her innocence for a moment. Minerva gratefully accepted all these good wishes and embraces in a daze of happiness and relief.

As she was being hugged by Remus Lupin, she happened to glance up towards the farthest tier of the room, and her eyes were caught for a brief moment by those of the one she most wanted to embrace. He stood alone at the back of the room as the crowd surged around him. His eyes locked with hers for a brief moment, and the shadow of a smile played around his lips. Then the crowd pushed its way between them in a flurry of bodies, and when she could see again to the back of the room, he was gone.

After, she'd been hugged and petted and congratulated by everyone within reach, Dumbledore took her arm and drew her aside, saying that they still had to sign a few documents of the court before she'd be free to leave. She nodded and turned to him with a grim, determined look on her face.

"Once we've signed all the necessary papers, and I'm officially a free woman once more, there's one further thing I need to do before we leave the Ministry."

Dumbledore raised an inquiring brow. "Oh? What would that be?"

"I need to speak to Amelia. I have a few choice words to share with her concerning Mr. Pitt and his little fiefdom in the North Sea."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Next Chapter: Home…