This is the penultimate part- (not counting the prologue) when the trial really gets juicy. Thanks for sticking by the story, and especially to everyone that has taken the time to review- I've loved receiving every one. Disclaimer in earlier parts.

The prosecution somehow managed to make their case last five days. Five days of mostly boredom for the watching crowds. Five days of hell for Harry, each day returning to the confinement of Azkaban, each day his magic a little worse, a little harder to control until Harry had a constant migraine, the itching enough on its own to drive him crazy, his stomach now so full of knots that he had a hard time keeping even water down. If he had been wondering how Casper Williams planned to get a guilty verdict on him, the plan was becoming clearer every day. He was either trying to bore the Wizengamot into a guilty verdict just to get out of the trial, or Harry would kill one of them with an uncontrollable surge of magic. If he were really lucky, he'd hit the big pompous git in the middle with the smug smile on his lips. That thought wasn't very good, though. His magic liked that thought. It surged its approval, always trying to get out, always trying to get free.

But if Harry thought that the worst was over, he was in for a shock. On the six day of the trial, after a torturous weekend spent once more in his cell, the pompous git got to his feet, again. The roar of approval from his magic, on having an even bigger target to aim at saw Harry gritting his teeth till he wondered if it was possible to break his own jaw.

Then the pompous git decided to speak. To address Harry. Looking expectant that Harry would answer. The smile he had when he looked at Harry, though was anything but expectant. Harry realised with a jolt that he wasn't really expected to answer. In fact, Casper Williams looked like he was expecting only self-recriminating silence from Harry. He asked the question again, forcing Harry to listen to his voice again, as the rest of the supreme members of the Wizengamot looked on with expectation.

'Mr Potter, I asked do you understand what I have just told you?'

Harry wondered what he was meant to have understood, but forced himself to nod, anyway.

'Good, then as we are all in agreement, as the elected speaker for the Wizengamot, I will begin with the questioning.'

Harry almost groaned. This could not be good. The man he so hated presenting the questions to him. When Harry could barely concentrate. When he could barely remember his own name because all his concentration was going on not letting his magic find a way through.

'Did you murder Tom Riddle?'

Who the hell was Tom Riddle when he was at home? Oh yeah. "I am Lord Voldemort" without the middle name.

He must have taken too long, however, because Lord Williams, ahem, Casper Williams was smiling patronisingly at him again.

'Did you,' he asked, speaking slowly, 'or did you not go out to deliberately murder Tom Riddle?'

Harry cleared his throat. Then did it again. His throat was too dry. His head ached. But he knew he had to answer. He knew he couldn't spend any more time in Azkaban than was necessary. He cleared it again, finally managing to make a sound with a throat that really didn't want to work. 'I went out there to put a stop to Lord Voldemort.'

Behind him, the entire court winced as one at the sound of the name. Harry, with a view only of the members of the Wizengamot was no longer surprised when they too winced.

'Tom Riddle was already dead.' He added.

The smile was certainly gone. Instead, Casper Williams was giving him a hard stare.

'And you thought you were somehow better than the Ministry?'

The smile was unexpected, feeling unnatural to his lips; more than a little bitter. Feeling foreign after so long. 'The same Ministry who refused to believe that Voldemort had risen again? For a whole year?'

'I cannot speak on behalf of previous Ministers.' Casper Williams said with an oily smile. 'But even after the Ministry fully reacted to his presence, did you not still refuse to work in partnership with the Ministry?'

'I was never asked to work with the Ministry.' Harry said softly.

'You were approached several times by Rufus Scrimgeour.' Casper Williams corrected, sounding patronising.

'To be their poster child, maybe.'

For a moment, there was silence.

'After all, I was the Chosen One.' Harry added as an after thought, his tone mocking.

'Ah yes, the Chosen One.' Casper Williams echoed, his voice perfectly mocking as well. 'You were the subject of a prophecy.' His tone was rhetoric.

Harry answered anyway. 'Several, actually.' He corrected.

'What did the prophecy say. The one that addressed you and Tom Riddle?' Casper Williams quickly clarified.

'The prophecy was housed at your Ministry.' Harry pointed out.

'The prophecy was destroyed, as you well know, in a fight at the Ministry between you and some death eaters.'

'What makes you think I know what the prophecy said, then?'

'Because Dumbledore made the recording, and as everyone is well aware, you were Dumbledore's man to the end.'

A cold rush of anger spread like wildfire through Harry at the disdainful tone to the Minister's voice when he dared say Dumbledore's name. His magic gave a leap of joy, pushing against its boundaries once more. Harry calmed it with trouble.

'Dumbledore was a great wizard.' He finally managed to say aloud.

'Who died at the hands of one of his teachers.' Casper Williams pointed out casually.

'He died doing something he believed in.' Harry said coldly.

'What did the prophecy say?' Casper Williams said harshly.

'Why do you want to know so badly?' Harry countered. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…

'What is it you want to hide so badly?'

'What bearing does it have on this case?' Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…

'It's funny, Mr Potter. Anyone else would view their actions as…justifiable if taken as a result of a spoken prophecy.'

'My actions were my own.' and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…

'So you deny ever hearing the prophecy?' Casper Williams asked, disbelieving.

'I never denied it.' and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. 'But I never used it as an excuse, either.'

'I'm confused, Mr Potter. If it wasn't because of a prophecy, then why did you feel it was your job to go and vanquish Tom Riddle?'

Harry caught the wording, and looked up sharply at Minister Williams. 'Because he killed my parents? Because he tried to kill me, my friends? Because he tried to destroy everything I believed in? Isn't that enough?'

'Do you regard yourself as a hero, Mr Potter?'

'No.' But he did want to know when a hero was going to be along to save him.

'You never regarded yourself as above other people? As better than other people?'

'No.'

'You never entered the tri-wizard cup three years before you were meant to because you thought you could do it anyway?'

'Actually, one of Voldemort's,' (again, a large wince) 'death eaters entered me.'

'You never tried to play on your hero status? Never tried to win points for it? You were the Boy Who Lived!'

'Yeah, now I'm the Boy In Azkaban.' Harry said sardonically. 'It's just a label.'

Casper Williams went to comment further, goad him further, but Harry beat him to the questions. 'Should I stand and be punished for what I did back then, as well?'

'What?' Casper Williams asked, clearly caught off guard.

'You know- what I managed to do as a baby.'

'No, of course not.' Casper Williams sounded impatient.

'Why not? I as much as killed him back then. Or maybe I should be prosecuted for not finishing him properly?'

'Mr Potter-'

'You know, for not killing him outright, because then, then he wouldn't have risen again.'

'Mr Potter-'

'Or maybe I should be punished for giving my blood for his resurrection' A look of surprise crossed Casper Williams, and many of the Wizengamot members' faces- 'oh sorry, weren't you aware of that? Yeah, Voldemort needed my blood to rise again.'

'Mr Potter, don't forget to whom you are-'

'Speaking to?' Harry asked dryly. 'Don't worry, I won't.'

The court was slightly calmer after a break, a post lunch lull filled the courtroom. Casper Williams again stood. He looked suitably stylish that day- dark pinstripe robes, hair neat and tidy, white teeth showing through each patronising smile. Harry wore his prison robes, tattered and ripped where Harry had spent too long desperately trying to scratch the unscratchable. His hair, never neat at the best of times, was too long and unbrushed, easily covering the famous scar at least. Harry wondered what Mrs Weasley would have to say on it.

Casper Williams easily got the attention of the court before looking down at Harry. 'Who were you to decide You Know Who's guilt?'

'Who are you to decide mine?'

'This is the official Wizengamot- we are set up to provide justice to the Wizarding world.'

'And there was a war going on- one where Voldemort was more than just a soldier. He didn't just kill people, he made a sport out of terrorising them.'

'Do you have proof of this?'

'He killed my mum and dad, didn't he?'

'The punishment for the use of an Unforgivable is a life sentence in Azkaban.'

'And when were you planning to catch Voldemort to put him on trial?'

'That is why we have an Auror department.'

'Which wasn't being all that successful. Even in the first war, Voldemort's power was so superior that the use of the Unforgivables were allowed by your Auror department.'

'And yet when I last checked you are a seventeen year old school boy, not a highly trained Auror.'

'I think you'll find that I'm not a school boy- the gates of Hogwarts are still closed, are they not? I may not be an Auror- but I have stood up to Voldemort before, and lived to tell the tale.'

'And yet you are strangely quiet about what happened the night Tom Riddle died.'

He remained quiet now. He wasn't about to implicate his best friends in anything.

'Shall I tell you what I thing happened that night?' Casper Williams carried on. 'You went to Little Hangleton the night before. You hid out in the graveyard and you waited. You knew Tom Riddle was going to come because you sent a message to lure him there, knowing that he wouldn't be able to resist. You waited, and when he came you killed him with a single spell. That is pre-meditated murder.'

Harry thought condensing the entire terrifying evening into a few seconds of speech was a bit much, but didn't move to correct the Minister, not then anyway.

'How did you convince the Order of the Phoenix to help?' Casper asked.

Well that hadn't been hard. The whole order was there for the very act of destroying Voldemort and his death eaters. 'We had a tip.' Harry eventually said quietly.

'A tip…?'

'We were told that Voldemort was having an…initiation ceremony that night in the graveyard.'

'And who was this tip from?'

Harry shrugged, jarring his shoulder joint painfully. 'It was anonymous.'

'Did you get a lot of tips?'

'The Order did, yes.'

'Did you go out on many of them?'

'Sometimes. If I was around.'

'What was different about this tip?'

'Only that it turned out to be actually true.'

'Were you prepared for that possibility?'

Harry didn't think answering that would be good, but didn't think he could lie. He'd been ready for weeks, after all. 'Yes.'

'Prepared to kill Tom Riddle?'

'Prepared to fight Voldemort.'

'Fight him how?'

'Duel him.' Harry answered with another shrug. Easier this time.

'Have you much practice at duelling, Mr Potter?'

'I've been taught by some of the best.' Harry said. And he had. There had never been a quiet moment at the Order headquarters. Harry probably had all the skills of an Auror, and a few more besides. Moody, it turned out, really was a good teacher.

'And the aim of the duel was to kill Voldemort. Murder him. Why didn't you inform the Ministry of this meeting before hand.'

Harry stared at the man for a long moment before answering. 'You knew!' He said incredulously.

Casper Williams was a talented actor. He stared right back at Harry, matching his expression perfectly. 'I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about.'

'The tip came from the Ministry in the first place.'

'I'm confused, Mr Potter- didn't you just say that the tip was anonymous?'

'Yeah, the tip was, but it was passed through from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.'

'You must be confused, Mr Potter. I have heard, along with all the members of the Wizengamot, the testimony of the head Auror. The tip did not originate from any department within the Ministry of Magic.'

Harry pushed his glasses away from his eyes, rubbing briefly at them as he tried to think this through. It didn't help though. It just made the itching worse. 'Then I don't know where the tip originated from. That was what I'd been told.'

'There was no tip, was there Mr Potter? The "Order" was there because you commanded them there- in fact, wasn't it Tom Riddle that received the tip about that night, from you.'

'No.'

'In fact, didn't he walk straight into your trap, that night, Mr Potter. Didn't he walk into that graveyard, alone, and get hit straight away by a curse from your wand? A curse that killed him.'

'Was that before or after he hit me with the cruciatus?' Harry asked dryly.

'So you say.' Casper Williams said slyly. 'You never submitted yourself for a medical following the act did you? In fact, isn't it true that after the murder, you had a large gathering, a celebration, some might call it.'

'I was alone that night, actually.' Harry said, quite truthfully.

This did seem to surprise the Minister.

'I went to Godric's Hollow to see my parents' grave.'

'Conscience getting to you? Guilt will do that to a man.'

'Actually I'd never been before. I never had a chance to.'

'Do you feel guilty for the murder?'

Harry wasn't stupid enough to answer that question.

'Do you feel regret, perhaps, over the circumstances.'

And he certainly wasn't going to answer that. Out loud, anyway.

'Mr Potter, your silence does not speak well for you.'

It is better to stay silent and have everyone think you're a fool, than open your mouth and confirm it. Harry didn't know where he'd heard that before. A muggle quote maybe.

'Mr Potter, may I remind you that the burden lies on you proving that you are innocent.'

'Why, because you can't prove my guilt?'

'We have already proved you killed Tom Riddle.'

'Yeah, and the whole world celebrated.'

'You have not provided any credible reason why you shouldn't go to Azkaban for a very long time.'

'I thought I was here under the charge of using an Unforgivable- which I didn't, and you can't prove.'

'What you did is still Unforgivable, even if not in name.'

'Do you know what's ironic, Mr Minister? You sound a lot like Fudge. You know- the Minister for Magic who denied- for a whole year- that Voldemort had risen again? You try and make out that actually maybe He wasn't all that bad. He killed over 500 people! He set giants out to destroy whole villages! He held muggles hostage to further his own gains. How many lives did he have to take to get you to call him evil?'

'And yet, it is you on the stand!'

'Yes, because you put me here!'

Harry knew he was close to losing it altogether, and the longer this went on, the longer he wondered if it would be so bad. He could suffer through a lifetime in Azkaban- however long that lifetime would be- suffering from the effects of magical containment. Or he could go out in a blaze of- well, it would make his magic happy, anyway.

'Mr Potter, how old were you when you went to Hogwarts?' The change of tact threw Harry off for a moment, taking him a moment to get his head around the question.

'I was eleven.'

'Is that when you first heard about Tom Riddle?'

'That's when I first heard about Voldemort.'

'Why have you always insisted on addressing him by his made up name? Did you believe that you were better than other people?'

'No- it's hard to fear a name that you've never heard before.'

'And yet, you perhaps had the most to fear. After all this was the same man who killed your parents in cold blood.'

'Well, at the time, everyone believed him dead.'

'And you? What did you believe?'

'I didn't particularly care, until he decided to take up one of my teachers as a host and get hold of the Philosopher's stone.'

'And of course, you were there to stop him.'

'Didn't seem particularly wise to let Voldemort get a hold of it.' Harry said, somewhat flippantly.

'When did you first hear of the prophecy?'

Harry didn't answer him straight away.

'About your fifth year, correct?'

'Are you asking me, or telling me?'

'That must have come as a shock. Hearing your whole life already told before you were even born.'

'It was a prophecy, not a life sentence.'

'The prophecy named you as the one to kill Tom Riddle, am I correct?'

'If I say yes, will you let me go? After all, by your reasoning, I had no other choice.'

'Did the prophecy name you?'

'No, it never named me.'

'And yet you took it upon yourself to-'

'I never took it upon myself to do anything because of some stupid prophecy that was made before I was even born. It didn't say I had to go out there and kill Voldemort. It didn't name me. It didn't even say how Voldemort could be killed. It could have been the ultimate self-fulfilling prophecy. But I denied the words of the prophecy. It wasn't telling the future- it was just giving a glimpse of what might become- and I wasn't about to let evil stand in the way of all that is good in this world. I could have walked away.'

'Why didn't you?'

'Because a great man once told me that I would have to choose between what was right and what was easy. And I chose what was right.'

'Ah, a great man. What other nuggets of philosophy did Dumbledore throw at you? Respect for authority perhaps?'

'I respect those who deserve my respect.'

'Do you think you should be respected- for what you have done?'

'That's not for me to decide.'

'For having enough power to destroy a dark lord with one curse.'

Harry looked on confused as to the meaning behind the man's words.

'Respect you, or fear you perhaps? Voldemort, by your own testament was powerful, and had many dark creatures at his disposal. And here you are, a seventeen year old school boy with enough power in you to kill such a man.'

Harry was shaking his head. He had the power because Voldemort had marked him that way. But somehow he couldn't get the words out, couldn't interrupt this time. Harry knew he wasn't powerful- certainly, he wasn't more powerful than Voldemort. He just had something that Voldemort would never have; the love of a mother who had died to protect him, and the support of some of the best friends he could ever ask for. And he had a willing to believe in hope. Hope that there was a future. Hope that one day it would be all over and he would be free from the fear of Voldemort.

Hope, it seemed, was an overrated concept.

And his magic, sensing his despair, perhaps, sensing the slip in concentration, at last found at outlet for its power.

'Do you feel betrayed by Dumbledore?'

Casper William's question struck deep in Harry's loosening will. 'No!' His grasp on the metal bars became harder and Harry wanted to shake them, shake some sense into the man who wouldn't stop the questions, wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted out of Harry. Harry wondered if Casper Williams knew what it was like to be struck by potent unrestrained magical energy. He wondered how much it would hurt.

'Betrayed by a man that played your life like a pawn.'

'No!' Because, really, it had to be worse than the cruciatus, didn't it?

'Dumbledore set you up-'

'No, he didn't!' hurt like he was making him hurt. Hurt him the way he'd made him hurt in Azkaban. Hurt him like the pain of memories, of the doubts of his actions, of the guilt over the death of another hurt him.

'and gave you no choice in the matter!'

'No' the bars were growing hot now, where Harry clung to them with all his strength.

'Dumbledore wasn't a great man.' Casper Williams mocked. 'He was just a manipulative old man. He abandoned you with your muggle relatives for eleven years because he didn't want to have to deal with you.'

'He believed it was best for me.'

'Best for you? They kept you in a cupboard most of the time, did they not?'

The bars were white hot to touch now, but Harry kept hold, couldn't let go, as his temper started to splinter, and his look refused to move from the Minister. 'He wanted me to grow up normal.'

'Dumbledore forgot about you! He forgot about you until he needed you again. He deserted you, waited till he had a use for you then threw you to the wolves. He sent you out on some wild hunt for Voldemort, because he couldn't do it himself.'

'That's right- he couldn't do it himself.' Harry yelled, the metal bars under his hands now bending under the strain, as Harry fought a losing battle with his temper. 'He couldn't kill Voldemort because only I could. Only I had the power. Voldemort killed my parents because he was coming after me- he believed that I was the only one who could kill him, and he wanted me dead. Instead though, he marked me. He marked me as the only one who could kill him, therefore proving the prophecy to be true. 'Dumbledore was the only one who knew the truth- one of the only ones who always believed in me no matter how much of a mess I made of things. Dumbledore was a great man.'

'And yet he died when you most needed him' Casper said with a cruel smile.

'He was killed.'

'Because he trusted in someone that should never have been trusted. Doesn't say much for his judgement, does it?'

'Everyone make's mistakes.'

'And tell me, Mr Potter. What's yours?'

'Believing that the world would be a better place with Voldemort gone.'

And in a second the anger was gone. The hurt, the guilt, his conscience was still there, but suddenly it was as if someone had physically taken away the anger, washed it out of his system. He reigned in control, belatedly realising that his hands burned where the metal had got so hot. When he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper, but carried easily to the very edges of the room. 'I thought that killing Voldemort would be the end. I thought that I would have a normal life. That was all I wanted. That was all Dumbledore wanted- for me to grow up normal- is that really so bad? I thought so at the time, but now…now I'm glad I at least had those years to try.

'I never wanted to be famous. I never wanted to be the Boy Who Lived. I wanted to be like everyone else. I wanted to have a mother and father I could go home to in the holidays. I wanted to worry about getting homework in on time, or the end of term exams. I didn't want to have Voldemort hunting me at every step. I didn't want to be the so called "Chosen One". I just wanted to be Harry Potter. Voldemort wouldn't let me.'

The whole court was silent now. And even the most stoically opposed person to the actions of Harry Potter suddenly saw things in a different light. They didn't see the power hungry Harry Potter that had been portrayed for so long. They saw a seventeen year old thrust into an adult world long before his time. Sent to rid the world of a darkness beyond black. And here they were putting him on trial for doing something they would have all liked to have had the courage to do: stand up against evil. Whatever the cost.