Harry Potter characters do not belong to me but to J.K. Rowling.
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In Terms of a Name
By Taliya
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Chapter I: The Trial of the Century
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I think I've killed everyone within a half-mile radius, he thought dimly as the staggering realization hit, "Oh bugger…"
And with that revelation, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, blacked out.
---
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had been working late into the night, preparing the school and its staff for the start of a new term. Rather than dress in the various brightly-colored robes that he would don during the course of the school year, on this night the Headmaster opted for a comfortable navy pajama set with winking yellow shooting stars zooming every which-way. A matching night cap perched atop his age-bleached hair.
He was jotting down some notes for his upcoming meeting with Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge when a magical wave unlike anything he had ever experienced swept through his office. A large percentage of the little silver instruments he had scattered throughout his office either went off with ear-splitting noises or exploded.
The Headmaster reflexively conjured a shield, blinking in consternation as the broken silver pieces showered his office. A sweep of his wand silenced the still-activated gadgets.
His phoenix familiar, Fawkes, squawked indignantly and fluttered his wings to clear the silver bits off of his feathers. He resettled himself on his perch, looking at Dumbledore as if to say, You are the omniscient resident Wizard "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Defeater of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald, and current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry". So what just happened?
Albus glowered at his impertinent familiar. "You do realize that you were broadcasting, don't you, Fawkes?"
Fawkes trilled in assent. Of course I knew, Albus.
Dumbledore sighed and rearranged his thoughts. That magic—it was familiar. If I didn't know better I would have thought it was—
The fire in the fireplace flared an emerald green. Turning towards, it, the Headmaster gazed into the troubled countenance of Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"Ah, my dear friend Kingsley, what brings you to firecall me in the middle of the night?" he asked amiably, leaning back in his chair comfortably while completely disregarding the mess of broken silver pieces all over his office and the fact that he was in his pajamas.
"We felt a massive magical disturbance in Little Whinging that knocked out the Muggle power system in the area. It also set off quite a few alarms here, not to mention knocked out all sorts of magic. It's pitch black at the Ministry, save for the fireplaces. The Minister is completely frazzled." Kingsley grinned at that, but sobered up quickly. "He's getting ready to deploy Aurors—Tonks, Dawlish, Williamson, and myself as a scouting group. I think he intends to deploy about half of the Auror force and an Unspeakable after we give the Ministry the signal."
Albus straightened. "How long will it take you to get there?"
Kingsley shrugged. "I'd estimate a few minutes."
"Thank you, Kingsley," Albus said, nodding appreciatively.
The fire returned to its normal orange color. Albus pondered for a little while, then turned to his trusty phoenix. "Fawkes, my dear friend, would you be so kind as to send Minerva, Severus, and Alastor a summons?"
The phoenix shot Albus a mock glare. I'm not some common owl, you know! However, with a burst of flames, Fawkes was gone.
---
Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, and two other Aurors, with the Minister's permission, apparated to Little Whinging under the light of the green Morsmordre. More specifically, in front of Number Four Privet Drive.
"Great Maker above!" Dawlish choked, "That's one hell of a magical residue!"
Indeed the residue was such that it had made apparition extremely difficult—all four Aurors were swaying unsteadily in the magical aftermath from apparition. Any magic performed now would in all likelihood go haywire.
Wands at the ready—just in case—they surrounded the house in a stealthy manner. All looked suspiciously at the open front door. Shacklebolt, the designated leader, signaled for his teammates to move in. They followed him through the door.
The foyer was clean and organized. "Spread out. Find Potter first. Then search for his relatives," he uttered softly. The other Aurors nodded and went their separate ways in the household. Shacklebolt, along with Tonks, took to the stairs to inspect the bedrooms.
Together they checked each room, coming across the late Dursleys in their respective bedrooms. At last approaching the last bedroom, they peeked in only to find no Harry Potter. The bed was charred, most likely from use of the Killing Curse. An owl cage near the scorched open window was empty; other than that the room was cluttered in worn and broken objects with no apparent organization.
Both Aurors glanced at each other, eyes asking, Where is Potter? They crept towards the window and peered past the sill into the dark. Tonks muttered, "Lumos." Her wand tip fizzled and popped, then slowly lit unsteadily. Both she and Kingsley were able to find broken roof shingles. Burns on the shingles indicated that curses had been thrown here as well.
"I'll go down there and see if I can find a lead. Get the others outside to meet me, understood?" Kingsley prepared to slide out the window.
"I'm on it," Tonks replied solemnly. She watched as Kingsley disappeared out the window before turning to seek out her colleagues.
---
"What the Merlin's name?" swore Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody. He clumped about unsteadily, reeling from the sheer difficulty of apparating to his current location. His companions were in similar states of disbelief. Moody shook himself and addressed his group, his magical eye whizzing in sickening circles. "A Death Eater attack here, if that blasted skull and snake is any indication," he growled, waving a hand nonchalantly at the glowing symbol of the Dark Lord. Scowling at one of his companions, he barked, "Why didn't you know about this, Snape?"
"I wasn't informed," snapped back Hogwarts Potions Professor and ex-Death Eater-turned-spy, Severus Snape.
It's quiet. Each Order member abruptly noted this. Too quiet. Uneasily, they scanned their surroundings. The area was illuminated with eerie green light cast from the Dark Mark. Immediately they all perceived that something about their surroundings was amiss.
"Merlin," the Hogwarts Potions Master murmured once he realized what was wrong. "Everything is dead."
And indeed, everything was dead. There was no sound—not even the distant roar of the Muggle dual carriageways. The grass of each house's lawn was withered and brown. The trees were bare, their branches clawing into the sky. The leaves were scattered about on the grass, browned and rigid. In the green gloom the newly-arrived group was intercepted by the Ministry-sent Aurors. Each group pointed their wands at each other before recognition set in.
"Fancy meeting you here," Kingsley said by way of greeting as he lowered his wand. "We found a trail. We're off to see where it leads."
"We should hurry," interjected Dawlish, eyeing the newcomers warily. He was one of the Aurors that blindly followed the Minister of Magic's lead; he therefore had a guardedness reserved for Albus Dumbledore and his company.
"Dawlish, Williamson." Kinglsey turned to look at his fellow Aurors. "See if you can dispel that, rather than letting it fade away on its own," he directed, glancing pointedly at the result of Morsmordre. The two Aurors nodded briskly and craned their heads back every now and then as they discussed their options.
Satisfied that the two non-Order Aurors were now occupied, the Order members followed the trail of blackened pockmarks that gouged the pavement surface. They trailed the path for several minutes, noting how at one point there was a standoff of sorts. Dumbledore, with his greater magical prowess, continually analyzed the residual magic used to painstakingly reconstruct Harry's flight and the Death Eaters' pursuit. They at length reached the dead end of a street and froze, taking in with wide, unbelieving eyes the scene laid out before them even as they pointed their wands.
A single crumpled form, one they all recognized as Harry Potter, lay in the centre of a ring of fallen black-clad Death Eaters.
"Harry!" Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Professor Minerva McGonagall made to reach the boy, but Albus held her back.
The Headmaster shuddered as the realization hit: this widespread destruction of life was created by none other than that single form in the middle of the circle. Sadness entered his eyes as he gazed at his friends. "Check to see if these Death Eaters are dead first—and be careful; we don't know if they set this up as an ambush for us," he whispered.
They quickly spread out as silently as they could, Mad-Eye's clumping wooden leg the only audible sound of their progress. Stunners were shot at each Death Eater before binding charms were placed on them. The magical residue made the simple task much harder. When all was accomplished, each acknowledged that the Death Eaters they had stunned and bound were dead. They all congregated around the last figure. One question hovered in their minds, and each too afraid to voice it. Is Harry Potter dead?
Albus knelt, as did the others, around the prone form. He was so still, spectacles askew and black hair in disarray. "He's breathing," Tonks sighed, relief evident in her voice as she gently touched his cheek, "Very lightly, but he's alive!" Dumbledore carefully conjured a stretched underneath the unconscious wizard and levitated it off the ground.
A multitude of popping noises startled the six of them. Aurors and Unspeakables appeared rather shakily and swarmed around the area, taking into custody the now ex-Death Eaters and spreading out to search the area. Kingsley and Tonks both cursed under their breaths. Obviously Dawlish and Williamson became frustrated with dispelling the skull and snake and had called for the reinforcements.
Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour appeared and headed straight for the little group huddled protectively around Harry. "So," he started gruffly, "You did all this?" This was directed at Dumbledore. Albus looked at Kingsley to answer.
"No," Shacklebolt reported in a professional manner, "This was already done when we arrived. We merely bound them up."
Scrimgeour frowned. "Then who did?"
Albus opened his mouth to answer but was cut off.
"Auror Scrimgeour!" The Unspeakable was hurrying up to the Head Auror. "I've analyzed the lingering magical traces concerning the disturbance—it was not done by a wand—it was done by either wandless or accidental magic. It caused everything to die within a mile radius. People, birds, plants, everything. Beyond that, there are extensive magical and Muggle power disruptions all over Britain. I also found who did it…" The man was wringing his hands in nervousness, anxiety, and excitement. It wasn't everyday that something of this magnitude happened. A silence fell upon the crowd.
"Well? Who?" snapped Scrimgeour when it was apparent that the Unspeakable was still digesting what had been found out. Albus and his entourage shifted uneasily.
The man took a deep breath and announced for all to hear, "Harry Potter."
It was silent in that little cul-de-sac under the green Dark Mark. Everyone was too shocked.
Rufus cleared his throat to speak, but no sound came from his lips. Clearing his throat again, he whispered, "Harry Potter? Harry Potter? Are you sure?"
The Unspeakable was bouncing on the balls of his feet now. "Yes, I am positive. The magical signature his most definitely his. I've also found traces of other people as well."
Dumbledore heaved a sigh. The cat was out of the bag a bit sooner than he had hoped. He straightened up and met Rufus Scrimgeour's probing gaze. "As it is clear that he can no longer live here, we—Minerva, Severus, and myself—will be taking him back to Hogwarts to watch over him."
"No, he will not, Dumbledore," Scrimgeour refuted. "This boy has killed more people tonight in one go than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has in a week. He is a danger to society! He will be charged with manslaughter and placed in Azkaban!"
"You couldn't possibly do that!" gasped McGonagall, "He's the Light Side's hope! Without him, You-Know-Who will win this war for sure!"
Scrimgeour narrowed his eyes and turned to the Unspeakable. "Did he use an Unforgivable Curse? Like Avada Kedavra?"
The moment the curse's name came forth, a small uproar from the crowd erupted.
"Harry Potter wouldn't use that!"
"He's on the Side of Light!"
"Harry Potter's not like You-Know-Who!"
"SILENCE!" It quieted immediately. "Thank you," stated Dumbledore. "Rufus, I cannot allow you to accuse Harry with such charges. Surely you can tell that this was accidental magic?"
The Head Auror flushed. "Accidental magic, Dumbledore? Accidental magic? Do you see the damage this boy has caused? It is a two-mile-wide circle of the dead! Tell me, how is this accidental magic if the intent to kill was there?"
"Well," Dumbledore started, "Usually when one is being attacked, wouldn't one try to escape or neutralize the threat? Harry was only reacting on instinct."
Scrimgeour scowled. "Regardless, I have to take him into custody. He will be tried."
A hard glint reflected in Albus Dumbledore's eyes. "He is a Hogwarts student and as such, he is under my protection."
Rufus shot back, "Be as that may, Hogwarts is not in session and therefore he must be detained by the Ministry. Shacklebolt, Tonks, take Potter away."
The two Aurors were hard-pressed not to follow their superior's orders. Glancing at the old Headmaster, he resignedly nodded his consent.
"Albus! You can't possibly let them take him to Fudge!" McGonagall objected.
"Minerva," Moody gruffly explained, "As of now we have no authority whatsoever to keep Potter from being taken to the Ministry."
The Transfiguration professor sighed. "I know. But I just thought…"
"Fear not, Minerva," Tonks quietly assured, "Kingsley and I will keep a sharp eye on him."
McGonagall smiled thinly. "Thank you."
---
He sincerely wished the buzzing in his head would stop, as well as the blasted hammer that was currently battering his brain. The band of coolness that looped over his forehead marginally helped. Still, he groaned and weakly tried to rub his eyes. Except, he couldn't. He was lying flat on something cold, hard, and smooth. Bands of something equally cold and hard were wrapped around his neck, wrists, hips, and ankles—he realized that after he had tried to shift into a more comfortable position. Bleary green eyes opened slowly taking in the fine view of the ceiling. Off to his left somewhere a light dimly illumined his field of vision. A sudden beeping sounded somewhere above his head, shattering the stillness. He hissed as the beeping increased in volume.
The loudness halted as abruptly as it had commenced. A soft hiss could be heard to his left, and soon footsteps could be heard. Shifting his eyes, he watched as Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, his Undersecretary Percy Weasley, Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, and another man he had never seen before stepped in. The unknown man reminded him of an old lion, with dirty blond hair streaked with gray. He limped, but seemed to make it a graceful movement.
"Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic," the man with the lime green bowler hat said, gesturing to himself proudly. Waving a hand at the others, he stated, "Percival Weasley, my Junior Undersecretary, Albus Dumbledore, and Rufus Scrimgeour, Head Auror." Finally, a name to the face, he thought blearily.
"Why am I tied up, Professor?" His voice came out as a dry rasp.
Albus looked down at the bound wizard with sadness for Harry and anger directed towards Fudge and Scrimgeour. "Were it my decision you would not be. But this lies within Rufus Scrimgeour's jurisdiction, not mine," he explained heavily. "Do you remember what happened the night the Death Eaters attacked you?"
Harry frowned at the wording of the Headmaster's question. "Didn't that happen last night?"
Dumbledore's brows furrowed. "No, Harry, you have been asleep for three days."
"Oh…" was all he said.
"Enough of this, Albus. Let me inform him of the allegations that have been pressed by Rufus here." With a flourish, Fudge unrolled a parchment that he had kept hidden underneath his pinstriped cloak. "'Harry James Potter has been charged with involuntary manslaughter and the violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction on the Use of Underage Sorcery on July the 17th of 1996. His trial is scheduled to be held in Courtroom Ten at 3 p.m. on July the 21st of 1996 before the entire Wizengamot.' Any questions?" Fudge smirked as he rolled up the parchment.
Harry closed his eyes in an attempt to keep his emotions under control. Deep breaths, he thought to himself, Just take deep breaths.
"Cornelius, may I spend a few minutes alone with Harry?" Dumbledore asked in a complacent manner. "There are a few things I need to discuss about the trial so that he will know what is coming."
The Minister seemed to ponder the Headmaster's request for a fraction of a second before barking out, "That's fine. Come Rufus, Weatherby, we have work to do…"
After the door closed behind the two Ministry officials, Dumbledore closed his eyes and sighed profoundly before placing a Silencing Charm on the room. Reaching out, he took one of Harry's cuffed hands in his own, remorse shining in his usually twinkling eyes. "I'm so sorry, Harry," the old professor started, "I didn't have enough stable ground to argue my way into letting you return with me to Hogwarts. Please, don't interrupt quite yet," he murmured when Harry made to argue, "Let me explain a few things to you. You know I fled from the Ministry Aurors last year in my office. During my absence from Hogwarts, I was, for all intents and purposes, a fugitive. Now, while I am fine with the idea that I was a fugitive because of my own doing, I am rather uncomfortable knowing that, through my actions, I might force one of my own students to run from the law. Do you understand now, Harry?"
"Yes, Professor," Harry replied. "But is it really that much better to be going to a trial in which I am all but guaranteed a one-way trip to Azkaban for manslaughter? Wouldn't being a fugitive be a better alternative to being caged in a cell and guarded by Dementors day and night?" Harry shuddered at the mere thought, then grew depressed at the thought of Sirius' confinement in Azkaban for twelve horrible, long years and his later three years as a fugitive.
Dumbledore watched as Harry's eyes dimmed and glistened with unshed tears. It was obvious that the teen was still grieving for his Godfather. The aged, wrinkled hands tenderly rubbed the slim, youthful hand gently sandwiched between his own, touch alone sending a more heartfelt message than any words ever could.
They remained silent, allowing each other to provide comfort and to compose themselves.
At length, Harry whispered a hoarse, "Thank you," that conveyed more gratitude than Albus could have imagined.
"You're welcome, my dear boy, you are most welcome," the Headmaster responded with a sad smile that was hidden beneath his white beard.
"So… what's going to happen with the trial? Seems to me that I should just say, 'I am guilty' and be bloody done with it," Harry murmured despondently.
Dumbledore frowned at Harry's downcast attitude. "Don't be too resigned about your fate just yet. We will do everything we can to ensure that the charges are dropped."
Harry blinked. "We?"
"Yes, we," Dumbledore said with a small chuckle. "We—Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, and of course, myself—will do everything within our power to aid you. All we ask is that you be truthful during your trial."
Harry sighed. "I guess I can do that. It would be the least I can do for what you are doing for me." He paused, a thought suddenly coming to him. "Where's my wand?"
Dumbledore turned to look near the light source. "It is there, lying on a small table next to the candles," he replied. "They have said that you cannot touch it right now."
"Please, Professor," Harry started, "I would like my wa—"
"Time's up." Both Harry and Albus looked to the door to find Rufus Scrimgeour waiting for the elderly man.
Dumbledore squeezed Harry's hands once and discretely cancelled the Silencing Charm. "We'll help you. Remember that."
"I will, Professor. Thank you," Harry responded. "Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Harry." And the door closed behind the Headmaster, leaving Harry alone to his thoughts.
---
A repeat of last year, Harry thought gloomily, Just my bloody luck. His hands were bound behind his back with manacles as he was flanked by two unknown Aurors. Two more Aurors preceded him as they chaperoned him into Courtroom Ten approximately five minutes to 3 p.m. The foyer area of the courtrooms was packed with people wanting to witness the trial of the famous Boy-Who-Lived. Aurors kept the crowds out of the courtroom. Harry ignored the questions of reporters and entered the room.
He glanced around and found Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape in the witness' bench, along with Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Tonks. The Weasleys, sans Percy and Charlie, were in attendance, as well as Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Remus Lupin, and Rubeus Hagrid. A few assorted news reporters sat in the remaining benches. Hermione, Luna, Neville, Tonks, Hagrid, and the Weasleys waved at Harry as he came in, while everyone else but Snape favored Harry with a smile and a nod. The Potions Master simply scowled.
The Aurors led Harry up to a rather uncomfortable-looking chair that secured his arms, legs, and neck with enchanted leather straps. His wand, carried by one of the Aurors, was placed on a small pedestal next to him. "No funny business, you hear?" one of the Aurors growled as they took up their stations alongside many others already positioned along the walls and doors of the courtroom.
Harry, now seated, looked forwards to find the entire Wizengamot assembled before him. He gulped. They looked just as unfriendly as he remembered, dressed in their plum-colored robes with the embroidered silver "W". Just speak the truth, he reminded himself, looking towards the Headmaster. He'll help me.
As if hearing his thoughts, Dumbledore turned to look at Harry and their eyes met. Giving a weak smile, Dumbledore returned his well-hidden but troubled gaze to the members of the Wizengamot. Harry felt his stomach drop. He couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, this was not going to turn out well. He'd awoken that morning with the feeling and it had not left. It's just my nerves, he told himself, I'm just nervous is all.
A minute before the hour, Minister Fudge walked in, followed by his Senior Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Amelia Bones, Rufus Scrimgeour, and the Court Scribe. Harry grimaced at the sight of the short, dumpy woman—reflexively he took a fleeting look at the back of his right hand, which still bore in shiny, whitened skin, "I will not tell lies". In his peripheral vision, he caught his friends recoiling at the sight of her. Madam Bones sat down at a small table off to the side as the Court Scribe settled herself in her own little desk. Fudge, Umbridge, and Scrimgeour settled at a table a little ways from the rest of Harry's friends and professors on the witness bench.
Since Dumbledore was, once again, going to testify, another Wizengamot Elder had temporarily assumed his position as Chief Warlock. "The court is now in session," the temporary Chief Warlock announced, "The defendant, Harry James Potter, child of the late James Potter and Lily Evans Potter, stands charged this 21st of July, 1996 of the following crimes: involuntary manslaughter and the violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction on the Use of Underage Sorcery on July the 17th of 1996. The defendant is providing the following witnesses to testify: Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Nymphadora Tonks. The prosecution has two minutes to open."
The Minister shuffled some parchments, his chest puffed up with an air of importance.
"The prosecution charges defendant Harry James Potter for the following misdemeanors: involuntary manslaughter and the violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction on the Use of Underage Sorcery. Both of these acts were committed on the evening of July 17th, 1996. For the former charge, no wand was used. Five Death Eaters were found dead, and every Muggle within a circular area two miles across, as well as all other life forms, were also dead. As of now the totals are: five Death Eater casualties, fourteen wizard and witch casualties, and seven hundred twenty-nine Muggle casualties. Sixty-eight wizards and witches are currently in states of unconsciousness and one thousand two hundred ninety-three Muggles are currently in states of unconsciousness. The greater London area experienced magical and Muggle means of power outages for hours afterwards, and all across Britain, there were reports of the same for shorter periods of time."
Harry blanched paper-white when he heard the statistics.
"We argue that that Harry Potter is the responsible party for this widespread destruction of life. We thank the Wizengamot for its time." Cornelius Fudge nodded to the assembled judges with a smug grin and sat back down.
The temporary Chief Warlock spoke up. "The defense has two minutes to open."
The Boy-Who-Lived licked his dry lips. Looking up to the Wizengamot, he prepared himself to speak.
"Harry had no intention of killing anyone that night."
Every head turned to look at Albus Dumbledore as he stood up. "The Decree for the Reasonable Restriction on the Use of Underage Sorcery states that underage wizards may, in times of self-defense, perform magic. Harry reacted merely out of self-defense. This can be explained by any animal's natural instincts. Instinct told him to neutralize the threat, and he simply responded subconsciously. Harry is not a killer; he did not kill those people with the intent. He is not comparable to Voldemort."
Everyone besides Albus himself and Harry shuddered at the name.
"We thank the Wizengamot for its time." Albus sank back into his seat.
---
Minerva, Severus, Alastor, Kingsley, and Tonks had all been called up to the witness' stand, dosed with Veritaserum, and questioned thoroughly by Scrimgeour.
"The prosecution calls Albus Dumbledore to the witness' stand."
Dumbledore stood and strolled to the booth.
"Please," prompted the temporary Chief Warlock, "Take the dose of Veritaserum."
The Headmaster accepted the small vial and tipped the contents into his mouth.
"Thank you," the temporary Chief Warlock said. "The prosecution may begin questioning."
Rufus Scrimgeour loped to the witness' stand. "Albus Dumbledore, recreate, in your own words, what you saw the evening of July 17th, 1996."
Albus sighed, and in that moment, Harry saw how aged and weary Dumbledore really was. "I was in my office in Hogwarts that evening, doing paperwork when I felt a powerful magical disturbance. It caused many of the little gadgets I possess in my office to either go off or explode. I had to shield myself from the flying pieces. Kingsley Shacklebolt firecalled me almost immediately afterwards, telling me of his and the Auror forces' impending deployment to Little Whinging. I gathered Alastor Moody, Minerva McGonagall, and Severus Snape. We apparated to the site. The magical residue was strong enough to cause any further magic performed to go haywire.
"We met up with Kingsley, Tonks, Dawlish, and Williamson. Dawlish and Williamson were to dispel the Dark Mark, while the rest of us followed the trail of scorches and pockmarks in the pavement. We found Harry, unconscious and ringed by the dead Death Eaters. We stunned and bound the Death Eaters and had only just confirmed that Harry was alive when more Aurors appeared."
"Tell me, Mr. Dumbledore, do you believe Harry Potter to be innocent of the charges?" asked Scrimgeour.
Albus nodded. "I do. What he performed back then was accidental magic."
"So then, Mr. Dumbledore, could you explain to me how accidental magic could kill? It is widely known that accidental magic requires a great amount of will power and intent to be performed."
The Headmaster pursed his lips. It was this issue that he had dreaded since the night Harry had been taken to the Ministry. "Perhaps Harry had wanted to stun them so that he would not be further injured. It may be that his desire to survive pushed too much power into the stunning intention, therefore killing the Death Eaters."
"And what of the Muggles killed?" pressed Scrimgeour.
Dumbledore thought about the question for a moment before responding, "My belief is that Harry was a little overzealous in his desire to keep the Death Eaters from harming him."
"Mr. Dumbledore, is it your belief that Harry Potter had no desire to kill the Death Eaters despite the fact that he killed everything within a kilometer from him?" Scrimgeour almost snorted to himself at the question.
Albus' gaze considered Rufus carefully. "Yes."
Scrimgeour narrowed his eyes at the elderly man before turning to the assembled judges. "The prosecution has no further questions."
Albus Dumbledore was dismissed from the witness' stand.
Everyone tensed up. They knew who would be called next.
"The prosecution calls Harry Potter to the witness' stand."
---
Harry listened to Dumbledore's recitation of what he saw that night with his eyes staring vacantly into the floor. When Rufus asked the questions about accidental magic, Harry could only listen with terror at Dumbledore's answers. It wasn't like that at all! his mind screamed, I had wanted them dead!
"The prosecution has no further questions."
"Mr. Dumbledore, you may return to your seat," said the temporary Chief Warlock.
Harry's head snapped up and he clenched his fists. Oh no, no, no no, no, NO!
"The prosecution calls Harry Potter to the witness' stand."
The same four Aurors came and undid the clasps holding Harry prisoner. They led him to the witness' stand and backed a meter away, wands trained on him. He saw his friends, white-faced and tense in the benches, smiling reassuringly at him.
"Give him the Veritaserum," commanded the temporary Chief Warlock.
Once the small dosage of potion was administered, the temporary Chief Warlock said, "Thank you. The prosecution may begin questioning."
Rufus Scrimgeour stood before Harry. "Harry Potter, recreate, in your own words, what you saw the evening of July 17th, 1996."
Harry inhaled deeply and began his tale. "I had been sleeping, dreaming of the death of Sirius Black—my Godfather—in which he fell through the Veiled Arch in the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries. I awoke because I felt there was something wrong. The street lamps were out. My owl flew to me and I told her to find shelter at Hogwarts after hearing creaks on the stairs of the Dursley residence. I let my owl out through the window, where I saw my door, which was locked from the outside, open and saw the green light from the Killing Curse aimed at my bed.
"I escaped through the window and fled, using a shield to protect me as much as possible. Most of the curses fired at me were Unforgivables and Dark Arts stuff. I had wondered where Dumbledore was. The Death Eaters chased me until I reached a dead end in the neighborhood. I fired spells while hiding behind a Muggle vehicle until they vanished it. I turned to run, but they had apparated all around me. I was put under the Cruciatus Curse for a while. They taunted me and told me I was to die that night. I remembered the promise I made to myself and Sirius. I would survive. They would not kill me unless I took Voldemort as well. I felt rage at the mere thought that they would kill me and I let that emotion take control.
"I don't really remember what happened right after. But when I came to, I saw the dead Death Eaters—five, not seven—and noticed how it was eerily quiet. I fainted."
Rufus Scrimgeour grinned. "Mr. Potter, what did you feel when that rage overcame you? Could you describe it in greater detail?"
Warning signals fired off in Harry's mind at the question. He knew that this would either set him free or imprison him for life. Yet he could not lie. "I hated them. I hated them with a passion and had already decided to myself that if I were to die I would take them, and Voldemort, with me." He visibly struggled with what he said next. "I wanted them dead. I wanted them gone so that I could fulfill my promise to live my life the way I want—free from assassination attempts."
Shocked outcries erupted from the courtroom. Harry's head dropped as fear and dread settled in his stomach. I did what you asked, Professor Dumbledore. I spoke the truth.
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Two hours later the Wizengamot filed back into Courtroom Ten and took their places. Silence immediately fell and all eyes focused attentively on the temporary Chief Warlock.
Harry waited with baited breath as the temporary Chief Warlock stood to address the courtroom.
"The Wizengamot has reached a verdict. After much deliberation, Harry James Potter stands, guilty as charged."
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The Shakespeare quote from the Prologue is from As You Like It, Act III, Scene V. The courtroom scene was taxing and tedious—at least I thought so. I am trying my best to keep the past events as accurate as I can, considering I don't have any of the books with me. I hope you enjoyed it and please, review. I'd like to know if there is anything I can fix (book-wise or not) or do better on.
-Tal.
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Completed: 7.9.2006
Edited: 7.17.2006
Re-edited: 12.29.08
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