Crouching Lion, Hidden Serpent

by Lutris A

Harry Potter has defeated the Dark Lord for the first time. But his parents are dead, and Sirius Black is imprisoned, Lupin is a werewolf, and Pettigrew is dead. AU 4th year and onwards. A Crouch Sr. adopts Harry story. Eventual SemiDark!Harry.

2. Black Trials of Mercy

Crouching Lion, Hidden Serpent

By: Lutris Argutiae

Chapter Two: Black Trials of Mercy

Pensieve Journal of Bartemius Crouch

1 November, 1981

Apparently, luck just isn't on my side this morning. I have just gotten up from my chair in the office. As far as I can tell, I fell asleep at my desk after a long night of drinking with the rest of the investigative team sent to Godric's Hollow. Even thinking hurts, I discover, as I try to remember the reason for the massive intake of alcohol, as I usually never drink.

Oh yes. The Dark Lord was defeated. Events come crashing down upon my hapless mind, and I recall the reason for his downfall. One boy. One boy, merely a single year old, had defeated the most devious and powerful Dark Wizards in modern times. One. Year. Old.

I check the time on my watch, on my pendant. Nine o'clock, it reads. It looks as if I have the time to visit young Master Potter before I head on home to the festivities that are sure to follow. Grabbing a vial of Hangover Cure from the department medical cabinet, I straighten out my robes and put on my cloak, adjusting my bowler hat to the right angle. I take a swig of the potion, strawberry flavor, I notice, and cast a Cleaning Charm upon my person. I walk over to the fireplace, and immediately the fire flares up in the brick structure.

A pinch of Floo Powder and a rushed phrase later, I arrive at the Houses of Healing of the Auror Corps.

Last night, I had sent Harry Potter to the Houses of Healing to be checked on and thoroughly diagnosed, before spending the night there. A child of his age surely would not have survived the magical explosion and the consequent collapse of the house with out any ill effect. Therefore, I had resolved to see his conditions, should any arise, till the end.

I walked over to the reception desk. It was a plain wall with a glass screen across it, layered with protective charms. I address the crevice in the glass, taking note of the name card in the slot.

"Healer Anderson. This is Bartemius Crouch, requesting admission to Mr. Harry Potter's room."

A few moments passed, and I felt the tell tale tingle of magic run across my body.

"Identity confirmed: Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Will you submit your wand to the Reception Office for security?"

"Yes." I respond, pulling out my wand and handing it to a transparent arm that had sprouted out of the glass window. The arm pulled back, and was sucked into the glass through to the receptionist's office. I could see it grow out of the other side, still holding my wand. A man, presumably Healer Anderson, took it, and examined it.

After another minute or so, he relinquishes the wand back to the glass hand, and turns to me through the screen. " Your wand, sir. Ash, thirteen and a half inches, with a powdered dragon claw core. Been in use for forty two years?"

I answer with an affirmative nod. He gestures towards the glass, where about a dozen other hands where growing out of, each holding their own wands.

"Your wand will be kept here until your departure sir, as per procedure. Mr. Potter is in room 201E. You have clearance, sir."

I proceed on through the hallway, and come to the stairs. I climb up the fourteen steps, and step onto the second floor, with a plaque reading 'Curse Injuries' adorning the wall. I look to the right side of the hallway, and I find Hall 201. I walk in, the magical sensors acknowledging that I don't possess any potentially lethal items. Glancing down the small common area, I look to the farthest room to the left, by the window. I walk through the doorway, and see that it is a fairly large room, considering its occupant.

I look to the crib placed at the side of the room, next to the window. I walk over to it, and see Harry Potter lying there, apparently asleep. I watch for a few seconds, before noticing that Snuffles, the black teddy bear, is starting to lose its opaqueness, and I deduce that it was not made to be a permanent conjuration. I pull an all-around wand from a tray in a cupboard on the wall, and I reapply the conjuration charms on it, not wanting to see the child saddened by the loss of his, for lack of a better term, companion.

I pause. That was unnaturally compassionate of me. I shrug the thought off, attributing it towards the mental creed to see to the well-being of this child. Then I remember a troubling thought. Surely Sirius Black, as an Auror, and as a friend of the late Potters, had come at least to visit Harry? As his superior officer, I would have to offer my condolences to him.

I give a small goodbye wave to the baby, and stalk back through the halls. Eventually, I came to the reception desk again. Quickly, I ask Healer Anderson, "Healer, I wish to see the visitor records for Harry Potter. As Head of Magical Law Enforcement, I need to know who visited him, Dark Wizards may be out for his blood."

Healer Anderson looks up at me from his desk with a glance. He shakes his head " Sorry sir, we are not cleared to disclose the visitor rosters. I can, however, check for names."

"Check for a man named Sirius Black, his occupation should be listed as an Auror for two years."

The man drew a piece of parchment from a shelf, and ran his eyes over it, muttering "Sirius Black… Sirius Black…". He looks up, then reads again, presumably double-checking for the name. He looks at me once more, and shakes his head in the negative. I thank him, and tell him that I am leaving. A hand slid across the glass to my area, and passes through again, opening its hand and offering the wand to me by the handle. I grasp it, then slip it into its holster at my hip, nod in affirmation to the Healer, and turn around to leave. It was here that I had another question in my mind. Why had Sirius Black not visited Harry Potter? From all sources, it was suggested that he was James Potter's best friend, and I saw that many times in basic combat training before the latter became an Unspeakable.

By basic deduction, it was not hard to perceive that Sirius Black was made Secret-Keeper for the Potters when the Fidelius was cast. But that conflicted with the fact that Black did not perceive himself as a traitor when I had seen him the night before. He was a Gryffindor, and the fact that he betrayed a close friend should have had him wallowing in blame and disgust for himself. That didn't add up. Something was amiss here, and I had to find out quickly, ere something happen to the Potter heir.

That left me with one task to accomplish. Find Sirius Black, and find the truth of events the night of All Hallows Eve. If he wasn't the traitor, then who was?

I head back to the Lobby of Level Two, and proceed to the Administrative Offices. I walk down the corridor, past the countless doors to the sides. I reach my own door and with a muttered passcode and an affirmation of my magical signature, I enter. Once at my desk, I reach down to one of the drawers on the right side of it. Clearly, I state "Employee rosters, Auror. Two-years. Sirius Black." . The drawer glows a faint golden colour, and I slide it open. All of the files on Black appear in it, and I pull out the Residency and Emergency Contact file.

Opening it, I glance down to the home address, and find no specific residence listed. I reread it, and see that he had lived in the Potter residency with James Potter and his family from when he was sixteen years old, until the deaths of the latter's parents, Alfred and Eve Potter. Incidentally, they had died of old age, with no malevolent feelings involved. Since then for the past two years, Black had lived in hotels, motels, friend's homes, the streets, the Auror dorms, and for a while, a brothel.

Sighing, I decide to go to his family residence, where it was sure that his location would be known. Leafing through the papers, I find his family residence marked as located in London, where at last checked, his mother and two house-elves resided.

I file away all of the papers, and place the thing in the drawer once again. It shuts with an audible click as I exit the room and make my way to the Apparition Point in the Lobby. After arriving, I concentrate on the address, and Apparate to the house, arriving within a few seconds with a slight crack. Glancing about, I could see it was a muggle neighborhood, which was strange, considering the history of the Blacks. Shaking the thoughts away, I found the address I was looking for.

Number 12, Grimmauld Place

I walk up the front steps, and gaze upon the door. In the daylight, it is apparent that the family itself supports the Dark Side. My evidence stood before me, in the form of a serpentine door knocker. Retracting my initial disgust at having to consort with supporters of the Dark Lord, I grasp the handle, and knock sharply. Twice.

The door, after several long minutes, opens a crack, the long nose and crooked ears of a house-elf visible in the small space.

"Who is Kreacher having to ask, is visiting the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black this fine day, sir?" The house-elf asks in a snobbish tone.

"I would like to speak with Mrs. Black, if it at all possible, Kreacher. May I see her?"

Kreacher nodded, apparently pleased that he would be serving a guest. I never did see the creatures as that intelligent anyway. "Kreacher welcomes Mr…."

"Crouch. Bartemius Crouch."

"…Mr. Crouch, to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, sir. Please wait in the sitting room as Kreacher is getting his Mistress."

I nod a polite nod, as it's never good to be impolite, even against servants, when in a foreign home. I walk in the house, and immediately notice the house-elf heads propped up on the wall, providing a dark decorum to the house. Disturbed at the sickness of the prospect, I hurry to the sitting room, hanging my bowler hat and my cloak on the coat-hanger. I sit down on one of the green couches, and wait, taking note of the tea and biscuits suddenly appearing on the table.

A few minutes later, a knock sounds on the door to the room, and a woman walks in. She was wearing black robes, with the family crest of the Black family embroidered onto it. Looking remarkably like an extremely aged and wrinkled Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black, she walked over the span of the room, and plopped down on the other couch across the table.

"I am the Lady Black. What is the crux of the matter of your visit today, Mr. Crouch?"

"I am currently heading a personal investigation regarding your son, Lady Black."

"On Regulus? Oh, my poor, poor, son. Killed by Death Eaters… why? What do you need? Can I help to do anything to help my darling boy…?"

"Sadly, the investigation concerns your elder son, Sirius, if I am not mistaken."

At this, she looks to be extremely outraged, flashes of fury and anger furrowing her brows, "That Blood-Traitor! That filthy muggle-lover? HIM! THE FILTH! WHAT ABOUT HIM!"

I had hardly expected this reaction out of the woman. Mentally sighing once again, I try to calmly respond. "Please, Lady Black, hear me out, and I shall continue my investigation elsewhere. I am looking for your son, Sirius Black, and it is a matter of great importance. May I ask where I can find him?"

The woman closed her mouth, stopping her incessant shouting. She responded, " No, I don't know where that filth, no-good son of mine is. And frankly, I'm glad. Now, GET OUT OF MY HOME!"

At this, Kreacher grasps me from behind, and I materialize outside the house, my hat and cloak landing beside me. In as dignified a manner I can, I stand up, and scoop up the apparel, before putting the cloak over my body again, and pushing the hat onto my head.

Considering that that particular method of tracing Sirius Black had been exhausted in failure, I had to find another way of getting to him. Closing my eyes, I ponder for a moment. I could call him in through his Department employee link, but that would be overstepping the line for a personal investigation. I think again. Where would Black go? But then I recalled a scene from last night.

"…Wormtail…kill…that traitor…"

I backtracked a bit, collecting the thoughts I had. Black had not considered himself a traitor, but rather, a man named Wormtail. If he had hated him enough as to want to kill him, what could have pushed him to that length? The obvious betrayal…ah. This 'Wormtail' was the Secret-Keeper, at least in Black's perception. But if it was just his perception… if he killed him, that would be murder. Considering the reputation I had placed upon the Department with the authorization of the Unforgivables, the Aurors would suffer massive loss of trust…

I had to find him, and stop him, now that I knew what he planned. But his mother hated him with a passion, and had provided no leads. The facts in the file were of past reference, and fellow residents from years past would not remember him, if he were only there for a few days.

I had no where to turn to, and thus no way to track Black down.

But fate, it seems, must interfere in all of our lives at some point.

The Auror Alert had just gone off, the buzzing of the badge in my robes felt through the fabric. I immediately noted the pattern of vibration, and taking in the need for extreme caution, apparated to the coordinates given me by the badge, wand out at the ready.

0o0o0o0o0o0

I arrived at a muggle street. There was chaos and confusion all over the place, the muggles not understanding the reason for the sudden appearance of the many men in robes. I look around, and found the source of the commotion., Casting a Sonorous Charm on my voicebox, I shout, "Ladies and gentlemen, please clear out of the way, this is law enforcement. Please, clear out. I repeat, please clear out."

Heeding my words, and with murmurs rippling through the throngs of people, the crowd parts, allowing the Aurors and myself leading them, through. I see the devastation in the area. Several mangled bodies on the ground, and a madman laughing his head off. I recognize his face.

Black.

The Aurors surround him, and carry him off to a Ministry holding cell.

I stick around, watching the Obliviations take place, and Junior Head of Magical Catastrophies, Fudge strutting his incompetent ass about, being first on the scene.

I curse at losing the chance to converse with Black. I should have known that he would murder 'Wormtail', or Peter Pettigrew, as I now knew. I should have interfered. But, seeing as regret never did anybody any good, I resolve to visit him in his cell tonight, before the trial.

According to eye-witness accounts, he killed the people after Pettigrew had accused him of betraying 'Lily and James'. The Potters. So, by all points and purposes, he was the Secret-Keeper. Since this was contradictory to his own beliefs, I needed to make sure of his guilt before I could preside over his trial.

That night, I visited him using my position as Head to get to his cell.

That night, destiny and fate played in my fixed future.

That night, changed my life, forever.

0o0o0o0o0o0

1 November, 1981

Late Evening

The elevator needs maintenance, I notice, as it descends from the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. I get off two floors down in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. With a small chime and a voice informing me of the level, the doors open, and I walk out.

The lights are dimmed, as is customary during the night hours in the Auror Offices. I head towards the holding cells, where Black currently is held. I had decided to come here on leeway of a personal investigation, sprouting from the fact that he did not visit Harry Potter, his best friend's son, in the hospital after his miraculous survival of the Killing Curse. It then had evolved into a search for the man to stop him from attempting to kill a man named Wormtail, whom I later discovered to be another one the Potters' close friends, Peter Pettigrew. The latter was murdered, along with twelve muggles, on a muggle street. Black had been manically laughing at the time the Auror Corps had apparated in.

Then there was the matter that Black did not believe that he was the traitor, rather that Pettigrew was. This gave way to the question of who the Secret-Keeper for the Potters actually was. This individual would then be the traitor to the Dark Lord, having betraying the Potters to him.

I approached the holding cells situated on the far side of the Offices. With the standard identity confirmation and magical signature checks, I found myself in the warden's office. I heard him greet me as soon as I opened the door, and he saw my face.

"Mr. Crouch! Wot bizness d'ja have 'ere this evenin', eh?"

The warden says to me, in a slightly slurred manner. He has been drinking, I decide, as I respond to him. "Sorry, warden. I am here to visit the mass-murder suspect Sirius Black, in his cell. Give me the keys warden."

The warden looks at me with a questioning glance. " Wot? Sirius Black, ya say? You'd be needin' a 'roper warrant eh?"

"Warden," I command in a unnerving tone, surprising both myself and the warden, " I order you, as your commanding officer, and as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, that you relinquish the keys to the cell of Sirius Black to me."

The warden just looks confused again, as I sigh in exasperation. "Warden, give me the keys, or I shall have you put on indefinite leave, demoted, and take twenty marks off from your record for drinking alcoholic beverages on duty. I shall also place you on active duty upon your return. Is that acceptable, warden?"

Looking aghast at the prospect of getting demoted, as his rank was one that took a fair amount of time to get to, namely six years, or quite possibly at running around in life-threatening situations, he shakes hid head. He slowly gets up, his belly hanging over the rim of his trousers, and the chair groans from the sudden release of pressure. He waddles over to the cabinet, where the keys are kept, and fishes out a ring. Facing me again, he hands me the ring, and with a quaking voice, pleads for his job.

I ignore him, subtly casting a Stunning Charm on him for his troubles. I made a mental note to myself to modify surveillance equipment on the offices to alert myself of any slackers, drinkers, and party-goers while on duty. Oh, and to carry out my previous threats to the warden, with the exception of active duty. The training regiment needed new trainees anyway, as I had trouble finding recruits to fill the slots.

I look at the ring handed to me by the warden, and push it into the slot in the doorknob. With a click, the door opens, and the ring falls back into my hand. I walk down the hallway of the maximum security wing, and at the end of the hallway, find the cell marked: Sirius Orion Black, Suspected Mass-Murder of Muggles, Suspected Murder of a Wizard, Suspected Abuse of Unforgivable Curse Usage, Suspected Activities as a Death Eater, Prisoner ID Python3598-D74.

I read over the plaque, and then look inside of the cell. There is a light in the corner of the room, the only illumination in the whole wing aside from my wand. I see Black huddled away from the light, and apparently sleeping in the other corner. I call out to him.

"Sirius Orion Black?"

Startled out of his presumable shallow sleep, he hastily searches for his wand, before pausing, raising his fist, and pointing his forefinger at me in the shape of a muggle firearm. "What do you want!"

I gaze back at him in amusement. Muggle firearm indeed, apparently the rumours of him being an entertaining man at Hogwarts were true, if that was his response to being disarmed in hostile territory. I say, " At ease, Black, this is your superior officer speaking. I am Bartemius Crouch, and I wish to ask you some questions of a personal matter."

Black glares daggers at me, as if saying why would I bow to you, you bastard?. I sigh, and unlock the cell door with the ring, and go in, closing the door upon entry. I sit down, and explain my reasoning, hoping he understands my situation. "Auror Black, as you no doubt know, I am Senior Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I therefore am pressed to preside over your trial, and in order to do that fairly, I require myself to take in your side of the whole incident. Yesterday, as soon as the Potters were attacked, I witnessed you arriving on a flying black motorbike, and relinquish control of Harry Potter to Rubeus Hagrid, the groundskeeper of Hogwarts School."

He cut me off here, "What? You were there? Is Harry safe?"

Mentally, I applaud him for his Gryffindor brashness and disrespect for authority. "As I was saying before I was interrupted, you relinquished control of Harry Potter to Hagrid. Immediately after, I confronted him, and Harry is now under the care of the Healers in the Houses of Healing. I overheard your mutterings before your departure, and couldn't help but be intrigued in your choice of words. Wormtail, kill, traitor, those words stuck in my mind. The following morning, this morning, I visited Mr. Potter in his room at the Houses of Healing, and to my astonishment you had not visited him during the night or hours of the morning. Of course, curious, I decided to hunt you down."

"And so that's why you're here isn't it? You found me at the muggle street and are going to convict me of murder tomorrow, is that it?"

"No, as a matter of fact, your attempted use of the Killing Curse on Mr. Pettigrew, or rather, Wormtail, as you know him, has severely damaged the reputation of the Auror Department, along with your murder of the twelve muggles. That is, if you are truly guilty. That is what I am here to find out, Mr. Black. From logic, you should have been the Secret-Keeper for the Potters. But you had stated otherwise on All Hallows Eve, citing him as a traitor. Therefore, Mr. Pettigrew is the betrayer, and subsequently framed you for treason to the Dark Lord and mass-murder, at least, following your point of view. What say you to that, Mr. Black?"

As I continued to look upon him, his hate-filled glares had passed into a questioning look, then to relief, and finally astonishment at my apparently accurate analysis of events. He gapes for a few moments, rather like a goldfish, I notice, then speaks. "Mr. Crouch, what you have said is true. I will consent to submit evidence under Veritaserum, if you would just give me the chance, sir."

"Very well," I respond, as he pleads. "I shall offer you the choice of Veritaserum tomorrow at the trial, and then the truth shall be known. I am glad that I have prevented the conviction of an innocent. Good night, Mr. Black."

"Mr. Crouch, please, look after Harry."

Without heeding his words, I stand up, turn around, and exit the cell, locking the door once again. I head out of the hallway, and back into the warden's office, where he could be seen snoring his ass off. Subduing a feeling of utter disgust, I prod him in the shoulder with the sharp end of a quill lying on his desk, after sharpening it with a muttered charm. The quill sticks in his porky body, and draws blood as he yelps awake. He immediately splutters, "What the bloody hell did you do that for, you filthy bastard!"

I give him a very disapproving glance, with my arms crossed in front of my chest.

"Er, Mr. Crouch, I didn't see you there sir. Er… um… what business would you be having here, sir?"

"As a matter of fact, Warden, I have just visited the cell of Sirius Black. You were asleep on duty, intoxicated with alcohol, and I easily took the correct key out of the drawer behind you, conversed with the prisoner, and have now returned the key to the cabinet. I am now getting rid of an unneeded excess amount of Department wages. As of tonight, you have been demoted to recruit trainee, and as such, are required to pay a fee for training courses, equipment, et cetera. The trainers will be expecting you at six-thirty next morning, trainee."

The man is speechless with shock, and I move back out of the office to go home, thinking all the while, who would I get to replace the warden? Choices, choices.

0o0o0o0o0o0

2 November, 1981

Morning

As usual, I wake up this morning next to my wife. Without disturbing her, I get up and apparate into the bathroom as to not shift about in the covers too much. I quickly shave, leaving the small mustache, and calmly greet my son as he heads off to wherever he and his chums go these days. Honestly, youths of recent times. Who did they think they were?

Today is the day of Black's trial, I remember, and I get a house-elf to pick a black dress robe for the purpose, After applying the attire to my person and pulling on white gloves, then straightening my tie, I walk out of the bathroom. I walk into the closet, and pull out a deep purple colored cloak with a silver eagle clasp, I throw it over my shoulder and exit the house, leaving a message to my wife as to my whereabouts.

I walk to the local apparition point, then transport myself to the Level Two apparition point in the lobby. Swiftly, I proceed down the familiar corridors until I come to my office, and clear the security checks. In my office, I sit down in my chair, and reach over to the Self-Updating Schedule Pad set underneath the lampshade on the desk. I flip it open, and see that the trial is scheduled to be held just after nine in the evening. The only reason being that it involved the betrayal of a Secret-Keeping and the defeat of the Dark Lord; otherwise, Black would just be given a regular war-time trial. Fortunately, his was a high-security, major trial.

It was, at that time, eight in the morning, as I'd taken a bit longer in dressing than usual. After another few minutes, I started to read and approve several minor prison cell upgrade applications, which took up the better part of the next two hours. Some of the concepts involved piqued my interests, as they involved integrating muggle prison systems with our own, and I could see the prisons profiting from the ideas. Indeed, if Azkaban were to be inescapable before, there would be no word to describe the security after the renovations were made.

Then, for the rest of the morning, there was no particular incident save for the occasional renegade Death Eater being brought in, and several more sheets needing to be signed with every capture.

Upon noontide, it was brought to my attention by my aide, that I would need to eat if I were to work. I was ushered out of the office by the kind woman. The perfect wife, if she ever were to marry… perhaps I could arrange something for my son with her family? Of course, with such an organized wife, he might be motivated to actually find a job, and become a worthy heir to the family, the useless youth.

I stalk down to the kitchens, pondering possible marriage arrangements between my son and several worthy bloodlines; after all, useless as he may be, my son was the only heir to the Crouch fortune, and as such, merited a good wife. My musings were interrupted by the smell of onion soup wafting through the corridors from the cafeteria, and turn left to enter the room. Using my position as Head to my advantage, I moved to the front of the line, and pick up a steaming bowl, along with a small salad and some bread. I sit down at an empty seat, and consume the meal.

After another fifteen minutes, upon completion of the luncheon, I banish the tray rack at the side of the table, and press my wand to the notch on the railing. The tray, along with the empty bowl and plate, vanish to the kitchens, and I walk out of the double-doors and into the corridor. I head back to the lobby, and purchase a lightened bottle of spring water, charmed to hold two liters, and enter my office once again, to remain there for the rest of the afternoon, and the early evening.

The afternoon hours were punctuated only by the repetitive arrests of relatively low-ranking Death Eaters, and some common thieves, trouble makers, and occasional murderers. An average of three-hundred and twenty one forms were filled out; three to a prisoner, and I steadily tire on through the day.

Finally, it was eight-thirty, and I stood up to get ready for the trial. Then the shattering news came in, which would eventually lead to the imprisonment of an innocent man in Azkaban.

The attack on the Longbottoms.

I was called on to the scene, being the Head, and the fact that two Aurors were the victims made it unavoidable for me. I arrived, after a rough apparating trip, at the Longbottom townhouse in magical London. Aurors swarmed the area, and I made my way to the injured party: Frank and Alice Longbottom, both promising four-year Aurors.

Their condition appeared to lucidness due to overexposure to the Cruciatus Curse. They were taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, to the Intensive and Extensive Damage Room, to be diagnosed. Inquiries were made, evidence catalogued, and I oversaw the whole movement, and put the couple on indefinite leave for medical care as a precaution.

The witnesses had divulged a story, one that was predictable, but unavoidable. A few Dark Lord sympathizers, possibly Death Eaters, had raided the Longbottom house, apparently torturing them for information. Information which concerned the well-being and restoration of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Of course, the Longbottoms did not have any such information, and went mad after over half an hour under the curse.

The culprits were witnessed as resembling Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, and two as of yet unidentified males. One had black hair, and another dirty-blond.

The search was held, and I headed one of the teams, inquiring citizens and scouring the magical portion of the city. The next hours were spent in search of the suspects, and the tracking down of the perpetrators proved to be troublesome.

At midnight, the foursome was captured in Knockturn Alley, and the two unidentified persons had names put to them. I kept my face cold and formal, not moving a muscle as they were announced in a report to me by Auror Shacklebolt.

Dominic Wispwater, and Bartemius Crouch Junior.

The truth was broken to my wife. She fainted at the news, only waking up to sob once more. I on the otherhand, had another two hours to wait before the rescheduled trial of Sirius Black, and had to keep level-headed.

Fate interfered again, in the form of Albus Dumbledore. He convicted Black of his numerous felonies, and persuaded me in my exhausted state to preside over my son's trial in the morning.

The trial of Sirius Black was called off, and he was declared guilty, requesting one final meeting before he was shipped off to Azkaban.

Me.