In the last chapter and this, there have been some scenes from the book. They may be in future chapters too. So… I DON'T OWN ANYONE EXCEPT MY OCs! ALL HAIL THE GREAT J.K. ROWLING!

Chapter 14: The Pensieve: Alice and Frank's Torturers' Trial

As Albus watched the scene in front of his materialize, he saw that he was in the same dungeons as before.

Mr. Crouch was the judge again, but beside him was a frail, tearful-looking woman. Albus could tell she was filled with extreme grief. Her hands were trembling and her eyes were red.

The door in the corner opened, and six dementors entered this time, flanking a group of four people. Harry saw the people in the crowd turn to look up at Mr. Crouch. A few of them whispered to one another.

The dementors placed each of the four people in the four chairs with chained arms that now stood on the dungeon floor. There was a thickset man who stared blankly up at Crouch Sr.; a thinner and more nervous-looking man, whose eyes were darting around the crowd; a woman with thick, shining dark hair and heavily hooded eyes, who was sitting in the chained chair as though it were a throne; and a boy in his late teens, who looked nothing short of petrified. He was shivering, his straw-colored hair all over his face, his freckled skin milk white.

Albus immediately recognized him as Crouch Jr.! He looked so, so innocent! He made anyone think, how he could ever be a Death Eater!

The wispy little witch beside Crouch Sr. began to rock backward and forward in her seat, whimpering into her handkerchief.

Crouch Sr. stood up. He looked down upon the four in front of him, and there was pure hatred in his face.

"You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law," he said clearly, "so that we may pass judgment on you, for a crime so heinous—"

"Father," said Crouch Jr. "Father...please..."

"—that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court," said Mr. Crouch, speaking more loudly, drowning out his son's voice.

"We have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing an Auror—Frank Longbottom—and subjecting him to the Cruciatius Curse, believing him to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—"

"Father, I didn't!" shrieked Crouch Jr. in chains below. "I didn't, I swear it, Father, don't send me back to the dementors—"

"You are further accused," bellowed Mr. Crouch, "of using the Cruciatius Curse on Frank Longbottom's wife, when he would not give you information. You planned to restore He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to power, and to resume the lives of violence you presumably led while he was strong. I now ask the jury—"

"Mother!" screamed Crouch, and the wispy little witch (who Albus had figured was Mrs. Crouch) beside Mr. Crouch began to sob, rocking backward and forward. "Mother, stop him, Mother, I didn't do it, it wasn't me!"

"I now ask the jury," shouted Mr. Crouch, "to raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!"

In unison, the witches and wizards along the right-hand side of the dungeon raised their hands. The crowd around the wall began to clap as it had for Bagman, their faces full of savage triumph. The boy began to scream.

"No! Mother, no! I didn't do it, I didn't do it, I didn't know! Don't send me there, don't let him!"

The dementors were gliding back into the room. The Lestranges rose quietly from their seats; Bellatrix Lestrange looked up at Mr. Crouch and called, "The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban, we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us, he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!"

But Crouch was trying to fight off the dementors, even though Albus could see they were having an effect on him.

He himself had never felt the feeling of a dementor, they were banned from England. But he heard a very detailed description from his family, in case 'a situation was to arise'.

The crowd was jeering, some of them on their feet, as the woman swept out of the dungeon, and Crouch continued to struggle.

"I'm your son!" he screamed up at Mr. Crouch. "I'm your son!"

"You are no son of mine!" bellowed Mr. Crouch, his eyes bulging suddenly. "I have no son!"

Mrs. Crouch gave a great gasp and slumped in her seat. She had fainted. Mr. Crouch appeared not to have noticed.

"Take them away!" he roared at the dementors, spit flying from his mouth. "Take them away, and may they rot there!"

"Father! Father, I wasn't involved! No! No! Father, please!"

The voice was drowned out as that same feeling of getting out of the Pensieve was felt and Albus' feet hit the ground of the Headmaster's office.

"Well, that was Barty Crouch Jr.'s trial," said Harry.

"I don't exactly understand something," said Scorpius tentatively.

"Yes?" asked Hermione sweetly.

"How and when did he get the Dementor's Kiss? He was imprisoned only," asked Scorpius.

The other three kids murmured in agreement.

"You'll find that out in this next memory," said Dumbledore's portrait warmly.

Scorpius nodded along with the others.

"Well, first you should know that this memory is my memory, and it's when I got back from Little Hangleton graveyard. It finishes after Barty Crouch Jr. is confronted with the Truth Potion and forced to tell everything, and morphed back into who he really is, not Alastor Moody," said Harry before pulling out his wand and touching it to the side of his head, then pulling it away, also taking a silvery hair-like wisp with it and dipping it into the Pensieve with his wand.

"Well, you guys should know the procedure now, go ahead," smiled Ron.

This time, Rose went in first, followed by Merope. Albus was about to go when he heard something from behind him.

"Scorpius, look, I'm really sorry I judged you. I saw that letter you got from your dad a few months ago today on the floor of the Great Hall, it must've slipped from your bag yesterday. Apology accepted?" said Neville warmly to Scorpius. He nodded eagerly.

Mission Accomplished thought Albus happily. He had been the one to put the letter on the floor when they had gone to the bathroom so Neville would see it.

With a sense of accomplishment in the air and in Albus, he dipped his head into the Pensieve and awaited the familiar sensation.