The Executioner's Trial
They're calling me evil, disgusting, a horrid creature. So many days, no sleep in sight as the questions rolled on and on. I can't explain it; I wasn't always like this. Or maybe I was, and everyone was too frightened to point it out.
Now I'm in a dungeon, with gray flagstones and dim flickering torches; the room is small only from the many faces on high tier benches who glare and grimace at me. My sister, Cherrie, blond and frail, is weeping in what must be her boyfriend's arms. When did she get old enough to have one of those? Some whispers, but they're quickly silenced. My parents aren't in sight; an interrogator of mine said I killed them; I knew he was lying. How little they thought I remembered. Mother died of disease when my sister was born, and my father was soon to follow. I was left to take care of my sister in a world that didn't care, and remained the same.
Up in the corner someone looks with pity on me. I give her my hardest eyes, the one that first got me noticed by the Deatheaters in Liverpool about seven years ago. They never thought I needed pity, because they new what I really craved for, a way to help my sister, and myself. So they took me in. That first meal, plain as it was, warmed my body while their promises of medicine for Cherrie warmed my spirit. When they kept their word, I returned. It didn't take me long to see that these people were smart. They knew life's truths that people are self-centered and love only counts among family.
It wasn't long until they were my family, and their master, my father. I kept trying to convince Cherrie to come, but she, five years more foolish than I, said that these people would only bring me down. That was the day, one yea after my first encounter that I permanently left her in the parentless house. I checked up when I could, but when I heard she'd been accepted into Hogwarts, I knew she'd never need me again.
Closest to me in my comfy little chair that binds me is a woman with scars running like streams up her face and neck, rich robes and jewelry adorning her frame. I f not for her I wouldn't be here right now; she was meant to die, like so many before her. My faces turns red at the thought that I won't be able to report back to the family, like I had so often before, that yet another enforcer, another reaper, of this impure society had gone to their rest. That's all any of the people in this room are. They claim to be a force for good, but in truth they're all propping sticks for a society where few are privileged, and the rest lie in the muck underfoot. Anyone I killed was one of the privileged; I always made sure. It didn't matter if they were muggle or wizard or if they just got in the way. My master new that and that was why I was held so highly by his followers.
A man enters, a skeleton. The crowd hushes with an almost sick excitement. "Let in go on the record: the case of Melody Sharper, charged with the killings of 46 muggles and 23 wizards, 8 of whom were Aurors. Ms. Sharper, do you have anything say in your own defense."
I'm not sure quite what to say. Then I remember the words of my true father, the Dark Lord, If you are caught, say whatever, but say nothing. Let yourself seem crazy, and I will come and rescue along with whoever else from wherever they put you.
So, I reply, "I did it! Put me wherever, my master, my father will save me, and I will return to continue my work!"
He replies smoothly, "Your precious master is dead, girl. No one will save you."
All I do is laugh. "I am like him; the world has forsaken both of us, and we both rose up to fight it back. You really think he's dead? My master is only toying with you! Soon we will all be free!" And then all I can do is laugh and laugh and laugh. Two men come in and pull me away from my chains. I don't care. The man mutters, "Let's go with life imprisonment, if you will. This girl is clearly guilty." He raises his voice. "All in favor of a life sentence?" It's unanimous. A long, silver bearded man with half moon glasses, on Cherrie's other side, and Cherrie are the only ones who don't applaud the court.
I stop the men in front of my sister. "You beat the system, Cherrie. I'm proud. Just make sure you don't become a part of it." She begins to cry, and my next stop is the woman. "I'll be back, Katriona Carutasu." She nods steadily. In her arms is the fast growing baby girl with cat eyes I was supposed to take once she was gone, as her husband already fell at my father's hands
As I exit the room with my honor guards' wands at my throat, the people cheer. I smile; it sounds like they're singing my praises to the sky. It's better that they don't see my master's return coming. But, as soon as they know; I'll be back.
Fourteen years later, at a Hogwarts' breakfast table, under a headline that proclaimed, MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS "RALLYING POINT" FOR OLD DEATH EATERS, alongside names like Bellatrix Lestrange, Augustus Rookwood, and Antonin Dolohov, was the name Melody Sharper, Know as 'The Executioner', convicted for the killings of 46 muggles, 15 ordinary wizards, and 8 Aurors.