Friday the thirteenth. Trial day. For Jasmine, though, this was the wrong trial. She was on the Wizengamot and was sitting by Albus Dumbledore and Crouch. She was on speaking terms with Dumbledore, he could never hold a grudge, he even offered her a Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching post, but she declined; Jasmine felt as though she already had too much on her plate, which wasn't a normal feeling for her.
Jasmine looked around the courtroom. No one was smiling or daring to break the awful silence, even to breathe, except for Crouch's wife, a frail, wispy looking thing whimpering into a hanky. Crouch looked like grim death.
Everyone waited in silence, then watched as Crouch said, "Bring them in." and six dementors entered to room, guarding the four prisoners.
Many people looked up at Crouch and starting whispering. Jasmine had a semi-satisfied grin on her face, though she made sure it wasn't too noticeable.
"Your handiwork, I suppose?" Dumbledore whispered into her ear.
Jasmine nodded.
Crouch stood, hatred etched into his face. "You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law so that we may pass judgment on you, for crimes so heinous ---"
"Father," the one recognizable as Crouch's son pleaded, "Father…please…"
"--- that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court," Crouch pressed on, ignoring his son and drowning out his voice. "We have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing and Auror – Frank Longbottom – and subjecting him to the Cruciatus 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. "I didn't, I swear it, Father, don't send me back to the dementors ---"
"You are further accused of using the Cruciatus Curse on Frank Longbottom's wife," Crouch bellowed, "when he would not give you information. You planned to restore H-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!" the boy screamed. Crouch's wispy wife began sobbing. "Mother, stop him, Mother, I didn't do it, it wasn't me!"
"I now ask the jury," shouted Crouch, "to raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!"
The jury along the right-hand side of the dungeon raised their hands in unison. The crowd along the walls began clapping with faces full of savage triumph. Jasmines had her elbows resting on the seat in front of her, her hands together and chin resting on them. She gave a quick nod to Bellatrix that went unnoticed by all but her, even when she returned it.
Crouch's son screamed, "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 came back into the room. The three Lestranges rose from their seats. Bellatrix looked up at 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!"
"I'm your son! I'm your son!" screeched Crouch Jr., trying to fight off the dementors.
Crouch bellowed back down to him. "You are no son of mine! I have no son!"
Crouch's wife suddenly gasped and fainted without Crouch noticing.
"Take them away!" Crouch roared. "Take them away and may they rot there!"
"Father! Father, I wasn't involved! No! No! Father, please!"
They were all dragged out by dementors. They were gone. The trial was over. All four had received a life sentence. No one moved, even after the dementors left.
Jasmine stood up. "He gave his own son to the dementors. Ouch. Didn't see that one coming." And she turned to leave. At the door, she turned around and said, "By the way, your wife's kinda out of it."
Dumbledore left shortly after Jasmine and caught up with her in the corridor. "Jasmine, don't you think that was taken a little too far?"
"No offence, Professor, but I am way beyond the point of no return."
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I understand that. I just found your method a bit, uh, unorthodox."
"Beyond the point of no return, beyond the point of caring. I warned him," Jasmine said, never breaking eye contact with her former Headmaster.
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Many miles away, Sirius Black shivered in a cold, dark cell in Azkaban. It was hard for him to remember anything, anything except the horrors of his childhood and James's dead face.
His sanity was slipping. He watched as four people were led by his cell by dementors. He recognized one of them. Bellatrix. She had helped to make his childhood hell. 'She deserves to be here,' he thought bitterly.
Then another memory clouded his mind. Pettigrew framing him, killing James. 'I shouldn't be here. Pettigrew should be.'
"I'M INNOCENT!" he yelled to no one, but his mind needed to hear it.
"I'm innocent." Everything good in his life came flooding back. He could sense the dementors growing restless. They knew he was reclaiming himself. He would defeat their purpose, he had to.
"I'm not going crazy. I'm innocent." Sirius looked around and remembered everything. He couldn't get out.
"I'm innocent." Sirius concentrated with all his will. He transformed into the great, black dog. Relief flooded his veins. How else could he save himself? All hope was not lost. He needed to avenge James.
A/N: How was that? Please review.