Disclaimer: I don't own any of it, whether it be Harry Potter or Pulp Fiction, or anything in-between.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Trial

After that fateful day in the hospital, Harry was carted away to a maximum security prison chamber to await trial. He hadn't really put up much of a fuss initially, though he supposed somewhere in the back of his mind he had expected Albus Dumbledore and the Order to pull some strings and arrange for his release. He was Harry Potter, after all.

However, after ten days of solitude he began to realize that he was pretty much alone. Reflecting on the events in the Janus Ward, he supposed it was quite likely that people blamed him for Lily's death. The world may not have even been aware that Lord Voldemort had been vanquished, given that there really wasn't a body left to speak of, and, as such, no evidence short of the copious amounts of blood, most of which was his. Still, Harry had trusted in the belief that Dumbledore would simply know the truth, for Dumbledore had always had the uncanny ability to know things that he shouldn't have known. Still, nobody came. Harry Potter was a secret Death Eater who went to finish Lord Voldemort's work, murdering his own mother, as well as using multiple unforgiveables and killing a bunch of aurors. He was a damned soul, and, if it weren't for the fact that the dementors had run off, he probably would have been kissed already.

As it were, though, he was merely in confinement. Days had stretched into weeks, weeks into months, though Harry couldn't quite be sure, since he wasn't permitted even a view to the outside world, or a clock or anything that ran on magic. Quickly, he had discovered that he had been placed inside a large null field, effectively rendering his magical abilities useless. It was all around rather dismaying, especially since the book he had read on the subject had advised against prolonged exposure to such a field. He was, fortunately, given three square meals a day, plus a copious supply of water and a muggle-style toilet, which was relatively clean.

A year ago, or even two months ago, Harry probably would have gone stir crazy inside a locked room. Apart from reminding him of darker childhood days, it was simply all around boring, and, thus, by extension, maddening. He had always been the kind of person who liked to do things. He was a doer, not a thinker. He was a Gryffindor. However, things had changed for him somewhere in that space between now and then. Something fundamental, and he wasn't altogether sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. He felt different. It was as if a great pressure had been lifted from him, like a block that had always been there, stopping him, pushing him down, making everything harder, like thinking, acting, casting magic. It had been something that had been dogging him ever since that night he had heard the prophecy; a question that had been nagging him at the back of his mind. It was akin to the question, Can you use the killing curse to kill the Dark Lord? That question, of course, had been acutely answered that day in the hospital, when Harry Potter had tried to do exactly that, and, in that moment when the curse had failed, Harry had been hit with a strange sort of relief. It had hit home on some intellectual level that the dark arts were not going to destroy the dark arts master, that it didn't matter how good a dueller he became, or how many spells he knew, or how fast he was, or how good a perimeter charm he could erect, or whether he could enchant objects or cast difficult spells, like the killing curse. No, there was some deeper thing; some sort of other magic, unknown to others, some sort of wellspring of energy that called to him, that had always been calling to him, but which he had never been sensitive enough to touch. That is, until he lay there, the cold tile floor of the hospital sapping energy from his body, his senses all reaching out to feel his mother, to communicate his love, to let her love be communicated despite the vast chasm that separated them, the chasm that separated people of the living from the people of the dead. Now, he understood, and that understanding walked hand in hand with the knowledge that, to the organized mind, death was simply the next great adventure.

Shortly after the sticky St. Mungo's situation, Albus Dumbledore gathered together the inner circle of the Order of the Phoenix to discuss the very events that had transpired on that dark day. In the kitchen of Grimmauld Place sat a number of key people, all of whom had thoughts of one kind or another about the mysterious boy that had returned from the dead. Included in the meeting were the Weasley parents, Sirius Black, Severus Snape, Mad Eye Moody, Minerva McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Emeline Vance, Hestia Jones, Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin. Many of them thought rather ill of the child, the Weasleys knowing sagely that no good could come of a parselmouth, Tonks knowing that no good could come of a cold-blooded killer, Remus Lupin knowing that any kid with that much attitude had to be bad. None of them, however, were out for as much blood as Sirius Black, who was positively murderous with rage. It had been his wife, everybody knew, that had been found murdered by the killing curse, evidence of exposure to the Cruciatus still plain to see, on that day.

"Now that everybody is here," said Albus in his infuriatingly calm voice, "I think that we should begin the meeting." The last of the Order members filed in and took seats around the magically expanded kitchen table, a charmed teapot bustling about the table filling everyone's cup and using a rudimentary legilimancy to anticipate what flavour each person would like.

Unlike most meetings, the current one was unusually quiet, mostly due to the somberness and the sobriety that Lily's death had brought to the table. Eventually, Albus cleared his throat and began, "First of all, I would like to make a few comments about a certain Order member who has been with us for a very long time. Eighteen years to be exact. Her courage and tenacity, her incredible willingness to love and fight for justice has earned her a special place in all our hearts. Two days ago, Lily Evans Black fell to the darkness while going about her shift at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies." Albus stopped and looked around the room, the twinkle in his eye gone, an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face; an expression mirrored by all the other members. "I have asked that you all be here today so that we can observe a moment of silence to remember her, to pay respect for the woman who brought light and comfort to so many people either directly by having known her, or indirectly by having fought this long and hard battle against the dark, so that so many others could remain safe." Albus fell silent, lowering his head slightly as an offer of remembrance, all the Order members following suit, with the exception of Snape, who merely rolled his eyes and quietly waited out the time period of one minute to expire.

Eventually, it did and Albus raised his head once more to continue speaking, "Surrounding Lily's death are key events that are of concern to the Order of the Phoenix, and I would like to turn to them now, and focus the main part of the discussion tonight on informing you of what some of the significances of these events may be and also to draw upon your expertise in making sense of them. First of all," he said, making sure to make eye contact with each of the members in turn, "It is well clear that Lily was murdered using the killing curse, and that, some time immediately preceding that event, she was placed under the Cruciatus for an undetermined length of time that was no less than about one minute."

Albus let the information sink in before he continued, knowing that some of his members had experienced that particular curse, and that even talking about it often brought back painful memories. Once satisfied that his members had recovered, he continued, "Harry Potter was found at the crime scene, his left arm ruined by what looked like a reductor curse, sitting next to Lily's body. Doctors indicated that he had fallen into a state of shock, most likely due to the blood loss from his arm. From there, he was immediately patched up, his arm re-grown and fully healed, and then he was arrested by aurors and promptly incarcerated, where he now remains, awaiting trial. The prevailing theory by the Ministry is that he crept into St. Mungo's to finish Voldemort's work from Halloween 1981, that Lily fought back, a battle ensuing that cost the lives of a number of patients and, ultimately, Lily's own. It appears that, during the duel, Harry's own wand was snapped in half, and that he, at some point, recovered Lily's wand and used the killing curse. Priori incantanum seems to confirm this hypothesis, as the last curse discharged from Lily's wand was the killing curse, and that the wand was found in Harry's possession."

"What are they doing with the boy?" Moody asked.

Albus nodded to Kingsley to take over the narrative.

Kingsley stood and cleared his throat. "Upon arrest, Harry was incarcerated in a maximum security detention cell deep within the Ministry building itself. Level five clearance is required just to be on the same floor as the prisoner, and he is guarded by multiple wards as well as constant surveillance. Given his history of wandless magic, he has also been ensconced in a null bubble with a radius of three metres. Upon arrival, he was stripped and checked for all types of weapons that may have been concealed on his body. We found a particularly dangerous dagger strapped to his leg. Signs of the basilisk were not present. The date for the trial has been set for March third."

"And how has he been faring?" Albus asked.

Kingsley cleared his throat once more before speaking. "The boy has been extremely quiet, as though he were meditating. He talks little to himself, demands nothing, does not speak to the guards that bring him his food. He is, altogether polite and unobtrusive."

"Those are the most dangerous ones," Moody growled, stamping his wooden leg on the ground for effect. "Can never be too careful with the likes of them. They're the ones that know how to get your guard down."

"Right," Albus said, nodding to both Kingsley and Moody and taking control of the floor once again. "That sums up the official side of the case. Now, I would like to move onto the unofficial side. There are a number of inconsistencies that appear to affect the war directly." Albus nodded for Severus Snape to take the floor.

"As many of you know, I have managed to resume my position within the inner circle over the last five years." Snape kept his gaze shifting from member to member, staunchly refusing to meet Moody's electric blue eye. "Two days ago, the very day of the attack at the hospital, at about the same time, I was afflicted with a peculiar pain in my arm, right where the Dark Mark rests. I have only felt this kind of pain once before. It was the last time the Dark Lord had fallen. Moreover, by the time the burning had passed, it became clear that the mark had disappeared. Since then, it has been no longer active, and, furthermore, I have communicated with other Death Eaters, who have reported experiencing a similar phenomenon."

At Snape's words, the room went from a mere silent to a dead quiet, all of the members looking wide-eyed at Snape and then at Albus. After a time, Mrs. Weasley spoke up tentatively. "Albus, dare we hope?"

"Indeed, Molly, I believe we do," Albus agreed, a slight twinkle returning to his eye. "In fact, Severus's information fits exactly with some of the less congruous elements of the Ministry's story regarding the battle at St. Mungo's."

"Less congruous elements?" Mr. Weasley echoed, clearly searching for an explanation, the daft look gone from his expression and replaced by one that told of a sharp mind.

"A third wand was recovered from the room, resting not ten feet from where Lily and young Mr. Potter were found."

"Who's?" Hestia asked, leaning forward, all of them held in suspense.

Albus said simply, "Voldemort's."

Pandemonium broke out amongst the members, all of them whispering either to one another or to themselves, some heads shaking, others nodding, trying to assimilate the new facts with the story they had already come to believe.

"So he was there," said Tonks quizzically.

"Obviously," answered Snape with a contemptuous tone.

Sirius, who had been oddly quiet during the entire proceeding, finally spoke up, his gaze holding the aged Headmasters, his voice seeming to ring with a quiet sort of intensity. "He's innocent, isn't he, Albus."

All mutterings stopped as the members waited for Albus to continue speaking. Albus continued to stare directly at Sirius, silently communicating some sort of communal sorrow, before saying, "Indeed, I believe he is."

Again, mutterings broke out, but this time, Albus raised a hand to quell them. "The Ministry is well aware of just exactly who's wand was there at the scene of the crime. However, they are disinclined to notify the public just yet, because they are not confident that Lord Voldemort is truly dead. You see, they are concerned that this may be like the last time, and they are not prepared to give false hope to the community. As such, they want a body, or, at least, some assurances from me personally before they concede that Lord Voldemort is dead. Until I do that, Harry Potter will not go free."

"So what are you waiting for?" someone asked, clearly not seeing why it is that Dumbledore wouldn't get the kid out.

"Because," Albus said, sighing and rubbing his temples, "Because I do not really believe that Lord Voldemort is gone. He may very well rise tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that. From what I have already learned, much of it stemming from Harry, he is virtually immortal until we can find the last horcrux."

"The boy said he knew where it was," Remus spoke up. "Of course he never told us."

"Makes you wonder, though," pondered Moody. "Maybe he wanted to make sure he was indispensable to us just in case he got in a spot of trouble. You know, leverage."

"Quite possibly," Albus agreed. "Still, we may very well find ourselves at his mercy, unless we can locate an unknown object of unknown quality and unknown location."

"Doesn't sound very easy," supplied McGonagall.

"No, it's not," agreed Albus. "However, I have already begun looking into Voldemort's early years and I do not believe it will be long now before I uncover some clue. Harry has already informed us that Voldemort will have selected objects that he thinks are befitting his own station. That alone narrows the search parameters dramatically."

"So you're just going to leave the child in prison?" Sirius asked, his brow furrowing at the idea that somebody would be locked up unjustly.

Albus responded in what sounded like a rather defeated tone, "You see, the problem is this. The Ministry is willing to overlook Harry's previous transgressions only on the condition that it can be shown that he unequivocally rid us of the Dark Lord once and for all. Only on that front will they give him a full pardon. Otherwise, he will be made to stand trial for his use of the Imperius curse, as well as the death of six aurors."

"Has he not spoken of the events?" Sirius asked. "Do we not have his testimony?"

Albus shook his head. "No. He has refused to speak, and he has sufficient control over his mind that he can block out mental probes, as well as forced memory extractions."

"And what of Veritassurum?" Snape asked, honestly curious. "Surely the Ministry is not pretending to be above its use."

"On the contrary," Albus responded, a tinge of frustration and humour in his voice. "Honestly, I do not have the foggiest clue where that boy comes from. Never in my entire life have I seen someone defy the power of veritassurum, and yet, there had sat one such boy, not even twenty years of age, telling me to - his exact words were - go fly a kite, Albus." Albus half-chuckled at the memory, still shaking his head.

"That's not possible," responded Snape severely. "There is no possible way to fight the effects of veritassurum. The Dark Lord had come close, having built up a tolerance to it over several years, so that he had the power to give evasive answers. Outright defiance is like fighting the imperius, only more so."

Albus did not respond to Severus's incredulity, mostly because he had no answer for the Potions Master. Instead, he merely shrugged, indicating that anyone's guess was as good as his. "At any rate," Albus said, moving on, "Harry does not appear to be interested in talking to anybody, whether it be regarding the events surrounding Lily's death or whether it be about anything else."

"He did just watch his mother die," Mrs. Weasley said tentatively. "It may be that, if he is truly innocent, if he were there protecting her, then he may simply be hurting too much to want to talk about anything to strangers."At Molly's words, Sirius's eyes seemed to light up. He leaned close, suddenly taking an interest in the affairs, and, with that same intensity, only now having gone from smoldering to burning he said to no one in particular, "I want to see him. I want to talk to Harry James Potter."

Minnie, Sylvia and Sirius Black walked through the empty halls of the Ministry Detention Center, their shoes clicking hollowly in the otherwise eerie silence. Minnie had been allowed to come only after an outrageous amount of begging and pleading, and, ultimately, a carte blanche from Dumbledore, who decided that a muggle could do no harm if let into the inner recesses of the Ministry, all the while, Sylvia shooting her dirty looks.

Abruptly, they came to a halt, darkness all around them, the once narrow hallway opening like a mouth into a wide rotunda lit by glowing blue and red lights that lined the walls. On the far side, the round chamber opened into a large cell, a jewel-toned translucent blue shield sealing off a lone figure, who sat idly, staring off into space, hands clasped neatly together.

"Harry," Minnie said, inexplicably saddened and brushing an errant tear from her cheek. "They've put you in a cage." It seemed wrong to her somehow, because he had always been a person of energy and contradictions, sometimes shy one moment, other times fierce and protective. Still, there was nothing she could do about it, and she knew it. She was a foreigner in a strange world, and at the mercy of all the people who inhabited it. They had stopped still twenty feet away from the edge of the cell, presumably to permit the guards to lower whatever additional protections warded Harry from freedom. Minnie took the time to scrutinize her two strange companions. Over the last several weeks, she had gotten to know them well enough; though the only one she could have claimed to have been close to was Lily. Sirius had always remained dispassionate and formal, and Sylvia had been downright antagonistic, not that Minnie held it against them. She was an intruder of sorts and her mere presence brought up painful memories of all kinds. No, she didn't begrudge them their feelings, knowing all too well how difficult feelings were to control. Sirius continued to bear that same expression of stoicism, only now with a slightly furrowed brow that suggested he were trying to puzzle something out, probably working through his demons, reconciling the image of the young boy before him with the death of his beloved wife.

Sylvia, on the other hand, wore an expression that Minnie had never seen her wear before. She looked lost, clinging unusually close to her father, practically hugging him as if to reassure herself that he wasn't going to leave her, her gaze flitting from the sight of Harry across the room to some place in the darkness, where she was trapped in her own memories.

She regrets not telling her mother she loved her one last time, Minnie thought with a sudden burst of insight. Of course, Minnie had been there during the multitude of fights that had broken out between mother and daughter, and could understand from her own distorted past just how complicated a death could be in the face of those kinds of histories.

Eventually, the wards were dropped and, presumably, Sirius was given some sort of signal to proceed, for he went forward, both Minnie and Sylvia knowing to stay behind, it having been prearranged amongst the three of them that they would speak to Harry individually. They all had their own crosses to bear; their own private words to say to the one who watched Lily Evans Black die.

After moving away from the two girls, Sirius Black stopped in the shadows, taking a moment to study the scrawny youth that sat in the spartan cell. He was not much to look at, Sirius had to admit. It was difficult to see where all the power lay, all the fortitude, the drive, the thing that permitted the boy to best ten trained aurors, and so much else, Sirius Black knowing only a tenth of it all. During the several days while the boy was harbored at Grimmauld Place, Sirius had tried to spend as little time as possible in his company, not even wanting to admit that he was disturbed by the combination of James's features and Lily's eyes, reminding him that it was the boy's death that had separated the two in the first place, that had allowed him to swoop in and pick up the pieces of Lily's shattered heart.

He stepped forward into the light and was surprised to see that the boy showed no emotion at the sight of him. Not fear, not concern, not curiosity, not even surprise. Just simple acknowledgement and then stoicism, and Sirius knew that he would have to be the one to break the silence first, for Harry never would, and that chilled him to the bone, for any person, whether it be child or adult, sodbuster or soldier, would have long since cracked under the interminable solitude and have been desperate for human contact.

"Hello, Harry," Sirius finally said, giving in and attracting the boy's attention, his gaze locking with his own.

Harry merely cocked his head in a questioning manner, a silent gesture that he was receptive to whatever Sirius Black had to say, but not overly concerned whether or not he said it. Who are you? he silently wondered. "I came here to talk to you, to maybe find out more about you. About that day."

Harry nodded and smiled a grandfatherly sort of smile before turning his gaze away, to some distant memory, his smile never wavering, his eyes taking on a hint of sadness. He spoke in a soft, measured tone, "She was amazing," Harry began, seeming content to not look at Sirius. "I watched her from the shadows for some time. She talked a lot to Mrs. Longbottom, fed her peas and mashed potatoes. I never imagined she could be so beautiful. There were so many things I'm glad I got to know about her. The photos never really did her any justice, you know; they never quite managed to capture the colour of her hair, the way it shines in the light, no matter how dim, the way it flows in smooth curls around her face, her eyes, her cheeks. They never told me how quickly she could go from happy to angry, how her emotions were always there, plain to see." He looked down, his brows furrowing in concentration, he working out his own puzzles and demons.

"What happened?" Sirius asked again, not even realizing that he had started holding his breath, no longer sure whether he even wanted to know, no longer sure what words were going to come out of the boy's mouth.

"She saved my life," Harry said quietly. "That's what happened." Harry looked up, and his war-roughened features creased into lines of remembered pain. "Voldemort came for me. It was because of me that he was there in the first place. He and I duelled for a bit." Harry now laughed, clearly finding something funny in his last statement. he smiled a bitter smile and shook his head. "I really thought I could take him. I really thought I could protect her, but in the end, she protected me. Just like she's always done. I know you want to know what happened, and I know you'll tell the Order about it, or, at least Albus. That's probably a good thing."

"I want to know because she was my wife!" Sirius cut in severely and not without a hint of indignation.

But Harry just waved his words away with one hand. "I didn't mean to say otherwise. But you will tell the Order. Hell, it's a good thing you do. They need to know, anyway, and I'd rather it be you."

"Me?" Sirius asked. "Why?"

"Never mind that," Harry replied, his expression turning serious, pensive even. He looked into Sirius's eyes and continued speaking. "Tell them she gave her life to protect me. Tell them, I didn't want her to, I tried everything to stop her, but she refused. She needed to, maybe. Maybe she couldn't lose me again, I don't know. But she fought tooth and nail - took the Cruciatus, even. Hell, I didn't think she'd even be able to walk after that; Christ, she didn't walk. She fucking crawled, Sirius. She crawled right into the path of the killing curse and took it for me. That's how she died, and her love protected me." Harry tapped the scar on his forehead and then repeated, "Her love protected me. It still protects me, to this day. It will always protect me, no matter what Voldemort does, no matter how much blood he takes. I understand that now." Harry leaned back against the wall and sighed, closing his eyes briefly as though it had taken him a lot to utter those few words.

Sirius merely stood motionless, his face betraying no emotion, his mind still trying to process all of Harry's words. It struck him as odd that all the labels people had for this curious boy, murderer, hero, renegade - none of them really did him any justice, because it seemed he was so much more than that. He was tired, for one thing, though it wasn't apparent by the look of him. No, it was in his words, telling of a long struggle, of a story that would break a mother's heart. He was hard like steel, as though the thing before Sirius, as scarred as he was, had been forged through the deepest fires of Hell, had been bathed in the blood of victims and criminals alike, and had come out weeping phoenix tears. And Sirius knew all of a sudden that Harry Potter was special; that no prison on earth could hold him if he chose to escape.

Sylvia didn't really know what it was she hoped to get out of her conversation with the strange, green-eyed boy. She wasn't even really sure why she had demanded to come see him, except that she felt a kinship with him, a kind of connection, as though only she could see who he really was. She also supposed that, maybe, just maybe, he would help her put to rest the pain and the misery that she felt in the wake of her mother's death.

"Hi," Harry said, surprising her by initiating the conversation.

"Hi," she replied quietly.

He continued, as though he had been the one to call her there, instead of her choosing to come on her own. "How are you holding up, Sylvia?"

She shrugged, not really knowing how she was doing, not having any words to express her feelings. "You?" she asked.

Harry seemed to give the question much thought before answering, and when he did, she found she was surprised by his words, mostly because they crystallized her own emotions. "I'm getting used to it, I think."

Sylvia nodded. "Yeah."

"It's okay if you blame me," he went on, casting his gaze downward to the concrete floor.

"I don't-" she began, but he cut her off.

"Someone has to."

A silence descended between them for a long time, Sylvia content to just look at him, study him like she did the creatures in her Care of Magical Creatures class.

"I lost someone close to me a couple of years ago," he explained. "A very close friend. Someone who could have been a father to me, someone who fought and died to protect me." Harry fell silent, and Sylvia wondered just how many demons Harry Potter had that he had learned to work through. "People told me it wasn't my fault, but I knew better. It was my fault, and it took a long time for me to learn that and more importantly, to learn to live with it. Pretending never helps anyone."

Sylvia nodded. "I fought with her a lot before she died. The last thing I told her was that she was a wretched mother and that I hated her. I think maybe I'm a little guilty too."

For the first time in the conversation, Harry smiled and looked up at Sylvia, locking gazes with her. "Yeah, I've said some pretty stupid things to the people who love me. Hurtful things." Still looking at her, holding her captive with her mother's eyes, he continued, "It's funny when you have parents. It doesn't matter what you say, or what you do. Their love for you just continues, never wavering."

"Yeah," Sylvia agreed, smiling too. "It is pretty amazing, isn't it?"

Harry nodded. "The most amazing thing. There's really nothing quite like it."

In that moment, Sylvia began to understand Harry Potter a little better. Just like her, he had regrets, longings, dreams and hopes, and that, in the aftermath of Lily's death, many of them had been shattered. Neither of them had a mother anymore, and Harry never really had one previously.

Harry had been surprised to see Minnie at his doorstep, and a little elated too. So she's safe, he thought, standing as she approached the thin blue barrier that separated them.

"Hi," she said in her soft, dulcet voice, a shy smile on her lips.

"Hi," he said, the sight of her taking his breath away. "You're safe."

Her smile widened. "So are you." Then, as if realizing what she had said, glanced around at the cell and then amended, "Er, well, sort of."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, sort of," he agreed. "No worries though. I'm quite confident that I am in good hands."

"They're going to persecute you," she countered. "I would hardly call that safe."

Harry just chuckled again, and said, his eyes twinkling, "I think you mean prosecute, Minnie."

"I know what I mean," she responded indignantly, stamping her foot petitely. "They're doing to you what they did to that German fellow in that movie I once saw called Crime of the Century."

"Er, yes," he agreed, not entirely sure what to make of Minnie's last statement. "I'm sure they are, but you need not fear. I have no intention of going gently into that good night, as Voldemort had so eloquently put it."

Minnie intertwined her fingers together and began nibbling on her lower lip, lost in thought, much like the way Harry remembered Hermione doing when she was trying to puzzle out facts inconsistent with a particular theory of hers.

"Come on, Minnie," Harry said, stepping a little closer to the barrier. "You need not hold back. What is it?" Harry's voice had dropped to a soft timbre.

"I miss you, Harry," she said, taking care to look directly into his eyes, hitting Harry with the force of her worry, her torrential emotions.

"Minnie...," Harry began.

"Don't you Minnie me," she cut in hotly, her silver eyes blazing. "Don't you dare Minnie me, Harry Potter."

In the wake of her words, a silence fell, and Harry felt inexplicably sad, though he wasn't entirely sure why. He supposed that the girl before him was his charge; he was responsible for her, was responsible for making sure she felt safe, and strangely enough, she seemed to know it, for the comfort of no other would do to alleviate her concerns.

Harry reached out one hand and pressed it against the barrier, ignoring the electrical shocks that were scalding his skin. "Minnie," he said, his voice softly carrying to her ears, soothing her. "Never you fret. I will always be here. Know that there is nothing on Earth that will do you harm so long as I draw breath, so help me God."

"I'm scared for you," she said in a whisper, coming close and putting her own hand up against the blue barrier, superimposing it on top of his. "I don't want to lose you too."

Harry felt a new emotion drifting off her, something unlike all the others she had ever radiated. It wasn't sexual so much, though there seemed to be an element of it in there. It had a deep, penetrating quality that was both full of anxiousness and also full of a rich warmth that seemed to bestow strength upon Harry.

Harry just smiled a warm, comforting smile.

"I don't want there to be this barrier between us," she said sorrowfully.

Harry discovered, to his own surprise, that he was prepared to do just about anything to appease the girl in front of him. It was as if he were being blasted with vila charm left, right and center, except, this time, he was fully in control of his body and his mind. Instead, it was a conscious decision that he truly was prepared to do anything within his power to put her at ease. And so, resolved to show her just what strength he had in him to protect her, he closed his eyes, relaxed his features as though he were meditating and then, after several long seconds, he re-opened his eyes, and to the surprise and horror of every Ministry official in the building, who was immediately alerted by the sound of alarm bells ringing, the blue barrier that protected the safe, innocent citizens of the wizarding world from the big bad devil that was Harry Potter, was no more. In a flash, Harry's hand was intertwined with Minnie, who was suddenly smiling a radiant, glowing smile that made Harry feel as if he could do anything in the world, which, of course, he very well could.

March 1st.

The dementors had returned to the Ministry shortly after Voldemort's fall, and, as such Harry found himself being escorted to the Ministry by two of them. It had been hoped by the higher ups that the dementors would break Harry by the time he got to the courtroom and would be in no condition to so much as raise a defense, which was so often the case with even the hardest of criminals, Bellatrix Lestrange being the lone exception. So it was decidedly unnerving when Harry merely smiled at the dementors and greeted them as if they were long lost puppies and fell easily into step with them, which made everything that much eerier, since dementors did not step but glide.

Coincidentally enough, Harry was escorted to the very same courtroom that was used to prosecute him prior to the start of his fifth year. It almost made him want to laugh, the thought of Umbridge and Fudge seeing him now, deranged Golden Boy extraordinaire being escorted his trial for multiple counts of murder and use of the unforgiveables.

There were a lot of people in attendance, ranging from Order members curious to witness the proceedings, to friends of Lily who were there to ensure that justice was done. It was a strange mix of purebloods and muggle-borns, of Ministry officials and healers and private individuals. To Harry's surprise, even aunt Petunia showed up, though Vernon and Dudley were absent, making Harry wonder if they even existed in this universe. Others in the crowd included Dumbledore himself, as well as the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, yes, indeed there was good old Dolores. Sirius, Sylvia and Minnie were all there also, which surprised Harry a little bit, since he wasn't sure whether Minnie was going to get in trouble for his little trick back in the detention center. Scanning the crowds, he also saw Lucius Malfoy present, and, to his chagrin, two familiar faces he was starting to think he would never see again.

"The wizarding world is a rather old fashioned place," Kittie mused, taking note of the many people who were milling about.

Mm," Marv agreed, sitting next to her. "True, true."

"I mean, if they just integrated themselves into the muggle world, took the time to learn about the many discoveries in the sciences, business art, etc. they would probably become a force to be reckoned with. Ten times what they are now, I reckon."

"It's not their way. It's not anybody's way, really," Marv said, considering the issue. "I mean, the muggle-borns would probably pitch such a thing, if they were given half a chance. As it stands, all the power rests with the purebloods, whether they be benevolent ones like Dumbledore or malevolent ones like Malfoy."

Kittie shrugged. "That may be true, but I have a hard time believing that nobody has even thought of the possibilities that could exist if you brought muggle technologies to bear. Muggles have built buildings that are a hundred stories high, not to mention regulated high speed traffic, mass production, so on and so forth. Think of warfare, for example. Could you imagine doing something like duplicating uranium for a nuclear bomb? Or shrinking it down to the size of a deck of cards? As fancy as the killing curse is, it's nothing compared to the magnitude of warfare in the muggle world. This Dark Lord doesn't really have the right way of things, if you ask me."

"I am completely with you. A magic shield would do very little against and other material objects, not to mention the fact that they can travel at ultra-high speeds, making them impossible to react to anyway. Don't forget that, while the Dark Lord may be open to these ideas, there's no way that his followers, most of whom are purebloods, would revolt if he tried outfitting them with bullet proof vests and other things."

"Bit silly, though," she said.

Marv shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. I mean, if purebloods raised the idea, if muggle-borns weren't socialized to keep the two worlds separate, then, quite frankly, it would be the muggle-borns who eventually take over, becoming the experts. They're the ones who have an intimate knowledge of the muggle world, after all. Not the purebloods."

"Then it should be the muggle-borns who are doing these things, taking up these ideas, possibly even building a whole new field of magic, or starting their own school, or something."

Marv smiled. It did actually sound like a good idea, and he could see, after having lived in the muggle world for so long, many of the amazing things, like lasers and radio waves and computers and what not, revolutionizing modern magical systems.

"It would probably go a long way towards breaking down the stereotypes and prejudices that purebloods have, possibly even transforming it into respect for muggles, for muggle ingenuity," Kittie continued, still pondering and processing all that she had seen in the last couple of weeks, since they had returned to the wizarding world. Once Kittie's training had been completed, or at least, as far as Marv could take her, they had gone to Godric's Hollow and lifted information regarding Harry's whereabouts from the minds of the inhabitants, discovering the events at the hospital, the trial, Harry's incarceration. From there, they moved towards developing a game plan.

"I love you," Marv whispered, the people who had taken a seat around the couple having gone silent as Ministry officials at the front of the room began speaking, listing out charges, introducing the major players. "You're so beautiful," he continued, not hearing the rest of the world, lost in Kittie's eyes, she lost in his.

"I love you too," she responded. "If the whole world disappeared, it's like I wouldn't care, so long as I have you."

He smiled. "Good. Then don't do anything foolish, because I really don't want to lose you either."

She smiled back and, with one gentle, loving hand, brushed his hot pink fedora off his head, and unpeeled the black moustache from his face, the glasses, the blonde wig, all of it coming off and clattering to the floor, the prosecutor at the front of the hall continuing to ramble on, oblivious to the events unfolding at the back of the courtroom.

Marv pulled away from Kittie and, in one fluid move, stood and walked out into the middle of the hall. "All right," he said in a clear, ringing tone, garnering the attention of all the courtroom's occupants, using that charisma which came so naturally to Lord Voldemort. "Everybody be cool, this is a robbery." And, again, using the same smooth grace bestowed upon him by God, Marv drew out a 92 series nine millimetre double-action semi-automatic beretta, loaded to the hilt with fifteen very deadly rounds and casually held it in one hand, his demeanor a combination of easy calm and collected deadliness. To all the muggle-borns, he was like a nightmare come true, all of them quite well aware that a person armed with a pistol was clearly very dangerous; especially when that person was a wizard. Out of the corner of Marv's eye, he could see that Albus Dumbledore was shocked, but not by the presence of the pistol, but by Marv's visage.

Kittie stood up as well now and came next to him, drawing out yet another pistol and, to go along with it, a machine gun. She fired one deafening report into the air, garnering everyone's attention and then, in a Bellatrix style, 'I twirl babies on bayonets, because I'm a total nutjob' sort of voice, she said, "ANY ONE OF YOU FUCKING PIGS MOVE, AND I'LL EXECUTE EVERY LAST MOTHERFUCKING ONE OF YOU!"

Together, the pair, armed to the hilt, cut a rather deadly sight. The purebloods, who were positively lost at the sight of the guns, were however, suddenly acutely aware of the now six foot long basilisk that was flowing out from Kittie's robes, its yellow eyes causing many of them to wet their pants in unrestrained terror. Bono was back with a vengeance.

"Now just one minute," Lucius Malfoy said shakily, getting to his feet, his cold grey eyes boring into Marv's, he clearly thinking he knew what was going on here. After all, this was his master in front of him, wasn't it?

Marv, however, did not bear the same sort of feelings, instead, looking upon Malfoy with the deepest loathing. As such, he simply pointed the pistol in his direction and fired one quick little round, which, in the blink of an eye, blew a hole clean through Malfoy's forehead, Marv demonstrating uncanny marksmanship, Malfoy's eyes rolling into the back of his head as blood and brains and bone fragments dribbled out of his skull, his body collapsing to the floor twitching for the last few moments of his fading life.

"Holy fuck!" a clerk said, gaping at the now fatally wounded pureblood millionaire. "It's like the killing curse only faster! And gorier! Where can I get me one of those?"

Minnie then rose to her feet and said, "Marv! Kittie! You're alive! Brilliant!" She clapped her hands together and issued a little excited squeal. "We're all together again!"

Before anyone else could react, Sylvia then jumped up and pointed a finger at the two bandits, her body slightly trembling with suppressed fear and fury. "YOU!" she exclaimed hotly. "It's you two! You said you were aurors! I thought you were going to arrest me! You snapped Amber's wand! What the hell?"

"Hey!" Sirius said, now standing up. "You told me Amber lost her wand! What's this about getting it snapped? You weren't running off to one of those muggle parties again, were you?"

"Er-," Sylvia began, suddenly uncertain of herself, "Er, right. I did tell you that, didn't I?"

Seeing that mass panic was about to ensue, Marv gave a tight nod to Kittie who, alongside Bono, combined their hyper-legilimantic powers to execute a dementor-class mental attack that effectively left all but a few of the courtroom's occupants sitting in their seats gibbering in terror. The prosecutor, Dolores Umbridge, who had been so imposing just minutes before, sank to her knees, tears leaking out of her eyes, whimpering, "Schmoopsie, schmoopsie, where are you?"

Bono slithered up to Harry, hissing, "Master Harry, look at what they have done to you," anguish evident in his voice. With one powerful flick of its now formidable tail, the basilisk smashed the chains that had bound the young prisoner, effectively freeing him. he rose to his feet, looking out at all the stunned people.

"Well, this is a surprise," he said, as though he hadn't just been put on trial for war crimes and crimes against humanity. Not to mention treason.

"Harry!" Kittie called. "Get over here! We're busting your ass out of this joint!"

"With pleasure," he said, coming up to them. "Christ, what took you guys so long?" Minnie joined them, giving Harry and Kittie and Marv hugs respectively. "I just knew it would all work out eventually," she gushed.

"Ahem," came Dumbledore's voice. All four humans and one basilisk turned to face Albus Dumbledore, most powerful wizard of his age, defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald, the only one You-Know-Who ever feared.

"Oh, crap," Harry said. "It's you."

"Indeed, it is me, Harry," replied the aged Headmaster. He glanced over to Lucius Malfoy and then back to Marv. "Interesting weapon you have there."

Marv twirled the beretta in his hand. "Isn't it though, Professor?"

"Good grief, Albus," Harry said, throwing his hands into the air. "Malfoy's a bloody Death Eater! Who gives a shit if he ain't in the union no more! Good riddance, I say."

"You're not really going to try and stop us, are you?" Marv asked incredulously. "Don't you ever stop meddling?"

"Meddling, Tom?" Albus asked curiously.

"Yeah, meddling," Marv continued, not bothering to correct Albus's use of his other name. "Don't you get it? It's not your fight anymore. It's Harry's, and mine. It was never your fight. You should have stopped after Grindelwald, retired."

"I beg to differ, Tom," Albus replied mildly.

"OF COURSE YOU WOULD!" Marv shouted, losing his cool for the first time that Harry and Minnie and Kittie had ever seen. "YOU JUST DON'T KNOW WHEN TO GIVE UP, DO YOU?"

"The light never gives up," Albus continued, now drawing his wand. "Now I am only going to ask you once. All four of you, stand down."

Marv seemed to reign in his emotions for his next words were spoken with a tightly controlled voice, the anger still apparent to anyone listening. "You sent me back there year after year, old man. I will never forgive you for that."

Albus looked infinitely sad at Marv's last statement, but he then shook his head. "It doesn't justify taking out your anger on innocent people."

"good," Marv said, smiling a cold, dangerous smile. "I'll just take it out on you then." He raised the pistol as Albus Dumbledore raised his wand.

However, before either of them could get into a firefight, Harry wandlessly summoned both their weapons, surprising both of them. "I'm afraid I can't let either of you get into this right now," Harry said, also shaking his head at the two. "Haven't enough people died already?"

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, his voice turning steely. "Do you actually know who's standing next to you?"

Harry looked over at Marv, whose gaze had returned to Albus Dumbledore, his fathomless black eyes boring into the old man, trying to do to him what only a basilisk could do. There was a rage and an anguish so deep in those eyes, Harry felt he could lose himself in them forever. He had known for some time that Tom Marvolo Riddle's contempt for muggles had stemmed at least in part from his time at the orphanage, a time that must have seen many dark days, not unlike Harry's own at the hands of his so-called relatives. Ron and Hermione had been the best of friends to him; they had, for the most part, stuck through some of the most difficult parts of his life and he, Harry Potter, was proud to know them, to be called a friend by them. Still, they had not understood what it had been like to grow up alone; they had not understood the import of Sirius's alleged betrayal, his parenthood, his death, and, of course the eventual prophecy. Nothing in Harry's life could have been called truly stable. He had been like a piece of fluxweed, always changing from one day to the next, guided by the will of others, whether it be Lord Voldemort's or Dumbledore's. Not for the first time, Harry acutely felt the parallels between himself and Tom Marvolo Riddle, but, unlike all the previous times, where he tried to convince himself that those parallels meant nothing, this time, he felt a sort of kinship, an empathy for the young dark-haired boy that had learned to use magic to control others, to reclaim that which God and circumstance had stripped from him. They were both damaged goods. They were both battered and abused and emotional wrecks destined for greatness, the inner wreckage of their hearts beating to the pulse of their remembered pains, pains which fueled them to move onward, to accept their groundlessness. They were heroes; and they were demons. They were Gods and monsters.

"I know exactly who stands beside me, Albus," Harry said in a slow, measured tone, careful to select each word properly, knowing that, at least for himself, it was important to articulate his feelings, to let them be known for it was a momentous occasion for him, the acceptance of an epiphany. "He is my brother."

Both Marv and Kittie looked curiously over at Harry, the same silent question on their lips. Minnie, however, just smiled, as if she had known it all along and had simply been waiting for Harry to realize it and to announce it to the rest of the world.

"Then I am truly sorry for you, Harry," Albus Dumbledore said, his voice full of sincere pity.

Harry nodded, accepting his words. "As I am for you, Albus. You probably will never see us again." He gestured to the four humans and the basilisk. "I think, all things considered, it would be better that way."

Albus, being powerless to stop them, his wand still in Harry's hand, watched the four intrepid young heroes depart through the main doors, Bono following at their heels, giving all the occupants of the courtroom one last, penetrating stare, effectively knocking them unconscious.