Disclaimer: Alas, Severus Snape is not mine; he belongs to J.K. Rowling, as do all other characters and wondrous things in the Harry Potter universe. There will be a few characters that are mine, but no profit is being made. They only want to play.
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Through the Flames Comes Destiny's Child
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Chapter 2: Snape's Trial Part 1
Nobody had ever claimed that the Minister of Magic was a wise and knowing man. Indeed, many witches and wizards shook their heads in dismay over several of Minister Scrimgeour's new policies enacted both before and after the war. What he was, however, was something that everyone agreed upon and made the majority of the wizarding world nod approvingly.
He was a man of action.
And take action he did. And, even though there were shouts of resistance and mumblings of unrest when his most controversial of plans were introduced, he had quite the knack of turning the people around to his way of thinking.
Mostly, that had to do with his assistant, Percy. Or as he liked to call him when in private with his more prestigious colleagues, Pooch.
For, as annoying as his lapdog of an assistant could be, he could write the most persuading speeches Rufus had ever seen. Pooch could write a speech persuading wizardkind of the need to shave their heads if need be.
Take, for instance the Dementors. Now, after they had abandoned Azkaban and joined He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, there could not be found anyone who would agree to forming an alliance with them ever again.
On the other hand, no one wanted the responsibility for executing convicted Death Eaters. No one wanted to get their hands quite that dirty. Execution was a most unpleasant idea to most wizards, which is why the Dementor's Kiss had been so popular - it let them wash their hands of it. After all, they were not really taking a life, no, not really at all. But the Dementors had turned on them and had run amok, causing fear and panic that was hard to overcome.
And so, not surprisingly, there had been an uproar when Rufus had stated his intent to invite Dementors back to Azkaban. But after delivering a stunning speech (written by Pooch) pointing out all of the obvious advantages and the stellar track record (all those years and only two mistakes - minor mistakes really) the crowd had erupted in enthusiastic applause to show their support.
The public was so deliciously gullible at times.
There were only a handful of witches and wizards that Rufus was keeping a wary eye on, but they had nowhere near the power or prestige to cause any problems.
And Harry Potter apparently had his own demons to battle after the war and was only now beginning to appear in public, albeit very rarely.
Thank goodness Albus Dumbledore was dead.
The old Headmaster would never have let him get away with half of what he had achieved. Rufus now ruled with an iron fist and he relished the feel of it. Restrictions had been placed on any non-human creature, be they werewolf, vampire, troll, or fairy. There was a file on EVERYONE over the age of sixteen. Assessment tests were given to find and record any unique power or abilities. Even squibs were kept close watch over. Organized gatherings were banned unless special permission from the ministry was obtained. (Rufus had declared the so-called Order of the Phoenix a terrorist group, hell-bent on inciting revolt and causing mayhem; suspected members were being watched carefully.)
All done in the name of protecting the public from any future threat. All done with the public's approval.
Dumbledore was probably moaning in his tomb.
Especially if he knew what was to take place tomorrow.
Rufus grinned to himself and downed the last of his last firewhiskey. Ah, tomorrow. The last Death Eater would go on trial. The other Death Eater trials that had gone before had of course been well attended - the trials themselves had doubled as a kind of rally and had proved effective in getting many of his restrictions passed. Always the message was 'Never Again, Never Again' and of course support for anything he had proposed.
The trial tomorrow promised to be the most watched event in the history of wizardkind. It was predicted to far exceed the viewers of the 1982 Quidditch World Cup. It would be aired over the wireless to thousands of viewers to watch in the comfort of their homes. Tomorrow, the most dangerous, the most vile Death Eater would finally get what he deserved.
Tomorrow, Severus Snape would stand trial.
Tomorrow, Severus Snape would be Kissed.
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It was hard to believe it was a courtroom. It looked and felt like a circus. The seating area had been enlarged to provide for the largest live audience ever recorded in the history of the Wizengamot. Witches and Wizards had started arriving the night before, chilled to the bone in the January night air, just to get in line to be sure of a good seat. Boys could be seen in the stands walking up and down the aisles selling bubble-gum flavored popcorn and mugs of butterbear. The place soon filled up and still they poured in, filling up the aisles and squeezing into every nook and cranny they could find.
Those at home crowded around their wireless cubes. Some of the more party-minded had enlarged their cubes and attached them to a wall or suspended them in their ballrooms, inviting their neighbors and friends over to watch. Everywhere was a celebratory mood.
With possibly the exception of one house where friends had indeed gathered, but where the atmosphere was strained and uncomfortable.
"Are you sure you want to watch this, Harry?" asked Ginny Weasley nervously, squeezing his shoulder slightly as she came to stand behind him.
"Yeah, Harry - are you sure about this mate? I mean, you did your part, right? You sent the letter like Dum . . . er, like he asked. I mean, he sent that time-delayed note explaining what really happened and that he wanted you to let everyone know the truth about the git, right?" Ron Weasley sat back on the couch, folding his arms in front of him and scowled at the memory. The appearance of the letter had caused a spectacular explosion within the Order, the least of which was Harry's own eruption of rage. They had been falling apart, prior to the letter; the aftermath left them further divided until the viewing of the phial several days later. All doubts of Snape's loyalties vanished after that, with the exception of Harry's dark glare and Moody's "once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater ", but no one really listened to Moody anymore.
It had been a brilliant strategy, Ron had thought, this sacrificing of the white knight so that the pawn could slip through unnoticed. It should have marked Snape's welcome back into the fold. Except that his fellow comrades had failed to protect him. They had left the pawn out in the cold, to get captured by the black rook.
Mostly because of Harry's growing resentment and most of the Order's Gryffindorish view of the world in black and white. Snape was, after all, still a murderer.
Harry's restlessness brought Ron out of his musings and back to the situation at hand. Noting his friend's dark look, he continued, in hopes of soothing Harry's temper and lightening his mood. "So you hired a defense wizard for him and sent him the letter and the phial. It's more than the slimy git would have done for you, you know."
Harry squirmed a little uneasily in his chair. Snape had killed Dumbledore because Dumbledore had told him to. If Dumbledore had told Snape to defend him, Harry Potter, Harry had no doubt that the bastard would have followed his instructions to the letter.
Which was exactly what he, Harry Potter was doing. Following Dumbledore's instructions to the letter. It didn't mean he had to go out of his way for the git now, did it? He had done all he could. He had secured a defense wizard, and had passed on the letter and phial. If they still convicted Snape regardless of the evidence, well . . .too bad, right? It wasn't as if Snape didn't deserve it.
He felt the familiar anger rising up inside him. He hated Snape. He hated that Dumbledore had put him in a position of having to defend Snape. But Harry had followed Dumbledore's orders to exonerate Snape because he had given his word to do as he asked. Dumbledore had trusted him to do so.
Harry hated it that Snape had done the same. That Dumbledore had trusted him to do the unthinkable. Why? The question still burned within him.
Sitting a bit apart from the others, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks talked quietly to themselves, watching with growing concern the restless crowd awaiting the start of the trial. It was 11:50. The trial was scheduled to start in ten minutes.
At exactly 12:00 noon, and as the great clock in the courtroom struck the final gong, a side door opened and in swept the Minister of Magic, his long gray mane billowing out behind him in perfect unison with his deep purple robes. The members of the Wizengamot followed close at his heal. Rufus Scrimgeour swept majestically up the aisle to the platform where he and the other judges could overlook the assembled crowd and look down upon the accused.
The crowd had risen as soon as Scrimgeour had entered and as the Wizengamot reached their seats they all sat as one.
Rufus banged a large gavel on the podium before him. "My fellow citizens, members of the Wizengamot; today we make history once again", he said, his sonorus enhanced voice cutting effortlessly across the crowd. "Today, under my leadership, we bring closure to a terrible era and usher in a new, enlightened era. Today, we rid ourselves of the last vestiges of evil." Scrimgeour paused, looking pompously around at the eager faces. "Today, my friends, we shall see the last Death Eater Kissed." A roar of approval swept through the crowd and applause swelled to a crescendo before dying out to Scrimgeour's raised arms calling for silence. A heartbeat of silent anticipation passed and then Scrimgeour shouted "Bring in the prisoner", his mouth twisting into a feral grin.
Another door opened and a great chill swept through the room. The crowd shivered as Snape was ushered into the courtroom flanked by two dementors.
Sitting with Tonks, Remus gasped as he took in his former classmate's appearance.
Dressed in a dirty gray and white striped gown, Snape walked slowly taking short jerky steps as if he were hobbled. Head bowed, and shoulders slumped, he stumbled twice on his journey to the middle of the courtroom where a lone chair sat waiting, chains hanging from the arms and piled around the legs. He was shivering almost uncontrollably and every now and then a great shudder ran through his body as the dementors kept him upright.
His hair was a matted and tangled mess, part of it hanging limply halfway down his back, the rest falling forward hiding his face. The crowd hissed in disgust as the accused Death Eater passed by. Wrinkled noses and heads turning away in revulsion told that Snape had not been allowed or given a bath in quite some time.
But it was the translucent skin hanging on a wasted figure that shocked Remus the most. Skeletal arms and legs peeked out of the threadbare and tattered prisoner's gown. If not for the dirt and the grime he could have been a ghost.
The camera suddenly changed angles, giving viewers a close-up shot of the prisoner. Remus's hand flew up to his mouth to stifle a cry of dismay; Tonks and even Harry gasped at the sight. Hermione, standing behind Tonks and Remus, buried her face in her hands and cried silently.
Snape's eyes. Eyes that were once so dark and penetrating were now blank orbs that seemed hideously large on a shrunken face.
Eyes that had once flashed with vengeance.
Now lifeless eyes.
Dead eyes.
Harry, feeling an odd sense of something he didn't want to feel concerning Snape, rallied himself. He thought of Sirius, wrongly accused and his time spent in the hellhole of Azkaban, and his temper rose.
"It's only been a little over a year since he was captured at the final battle", Harry sneered. "And, he spent 3 weeks at St. Mungo's and then a month in a cell in the Ministry. Less than 12 months in Azkaban. Sirius spent 12 years and he didn't crumble like that.", he said, ignoring Hermione's tear-streaked face. Snape was weak. Snape was pathetic. Harry felt better.
"You can't compare Snape with Sirius", Tonks replied slowly. "Sirius was an animagus - he could get a reprieve from the Dementors when he shifted into his animagus form. Snape didn't have that. Plus, things are different now . . . the Dementors have free rein to feed every day now - so long as they don't completely Kiss the inmates - although that has happened a few times", Tonks ended in a whisper, hanging her head.
Now-a-days, she was almost ashamed to be an auror.
She knew that Dementors weren't the only horrors at Azkaban. She had heard some of the others talking about the guards at Azkaban. Stories of how they entertained themselves. Stories involving abuse and torture. Physical . . .and . . . sexual. She shuddered, remembering the envy some of the others had expressed.
And she knew lots of those stories had involved Snape. But she had turned away - she hadn't wanted to know. Now, sitting here in comfort with her friends, she felt numb with guilt, knowing what this man had gone through because he had done the right thing. He was a better soldier than she could ever hope to be.
"We should be there", Hermione said softly, shakily. She looked over at Harry and her eyes grew hard. "Why aren't we there, Harry? He destroyed two horcruxes for you; he saved Ginny and Neville, you know he did. He was on our side."
Harry glared at her. "He killed Dumbledore. I did what I was asked to do; what I promised." He shrugged his shoulders a little and then said sullenly, "what more do you want from me, Hermione?"
"What more would Professor Dumbledore have expected of you, Harry", she said sadly, to which Harry narrowed his eyes and looked away with a mule-stubborn expression.
The sound of rattling chains brought them back to the image in front of them and they watched as Snape was bound to the chair. The Dementors seemed to press in on either side, hovering for a full minute before gliding out of the courtroom, leaving Snape convulsing with fits of spasms. His body strained against the bindings as it fought to compensate for the lack of freedom to move about, sending waves of undulating pain inward instead. Snape's head suddenly snapped backward, and a low keening issued from a hoarse throat. It was as if he were suffering a cruciatus.
Remus swore.
Behind them, tears glistened on the cheeks of a man in a portrait. Eyes that normally twinkled behind half-moon spectacles now flashed briefly with an anger that would have made each and every one of the small group of friends lower their heads in shame had they noticed.
No one did.
And no one noticed when the old Headmaster walked out of his portrait with a steely look of determination in his clear blue eyes.
Rufus Scrimgeour looked with satisfaction on the broken man before him. The last of the convulsions had finally died out and the Death Eater was left slumped forward in the chair, taking great raspy breaths.
Everything was going perfectly.
Rufus stood up. "Severus Snape, you have been accused of the murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Dumbledore, of committing heinous atrocities against wizard-kind and muggles, and of being a Death Eater. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"
Rufus grinned maliciously as another tremor rippled through the dark wizard before him. The aftershock was timed perfectly, as was all his plans. "We'll take that as a no" he drawled, laughing as others in the crowd burst into laughter along with him.
"Severus Snape, you are hereby declared guilty on all counts and sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss which will be given sh . . .who are you?" Rufus roared as a wiry, little man made his way down to stand next to Snape, only to take a few quick steps away from the horrible stench emanating from the prisoner.
The little man looked around nervously and gulped, mopping his brow. His bald head glistened with sweat. A band of black hair crowned the back of his head like a horseshoe. Putting the sodden handkerchief away in a pocket of black robes that were a tad too long, he pulled out a tattered letter and phial which he almost dropped.
"My name is Hector Sizemore" he squeaked. "I'm here to represent the accused.