One Day at a Time
A Funeral and a Trial
That Wednesday, two uniformed Aurors came to my holding cell and told me that they were my escorts, as my application to attend Seginus's and Matar's funeral had been accepted. I recognized the woman with mousy brown hair and a heart-shaped face as the one who had found me after the battle of Hogwarts. "I'm Nymphadora Tonks," she politely introduced herself and shook my hand.
The other Auror, a pug-faced man with strawberry-blond hair, didn't bother to extend the courtesy of introducing himself. Instead, he started by saying, "Look, here's the run down, Colburn. You're going to be magically bound to both of us. If it looks like you're trying to escape, we have the right to kill you, no questions asked. Same goes with anybody who seems as if they're trying to help you escape. Seem fair?" He finished what sounded like a long-winded legal disclaimer.
That doesn't sound exactly fair, I thought, Because "Looks like you're trying to escape" makes it sound like they can kill me if I make too sudden of a movement to scratch my nose. I didn't say that aloud, though, instead succinctly replying, "Sounds fair."
"Tonks, you're the one apparating, right?" the pug-faced man turned towards her.
"Yep. Scoped out the place yesterday," she replied, her mouth a grim line. With a whirl of color, the three of us were jostled together and the scenery changed to the small dirt road and rusty iron gates of the cemetery where Mother and Father were buried. The sun was blindingly light and the rich blue of the sky was a welcome and foreign sight even after only a week in prison. "Where is the Colburns' funeral?" Tonks respectfully asked the Muggle at the front desk.
"Right this way, ma'am," the Muggle gestured for us to follow him. Just about every two steps he would curiously scrutinize the thin gold lines that were wrapped around both of my arms and around one of the arms of Tonks to my right and the male Auror to my left. He didn't say anything about the obvious display of magic, though. He probably didn't even realize what it was; Muggles can be quite dense like that.
The burial site was a rather humble affair. About a dozen gray folding chairs were set up in a straight line and there were two small bouquets of white roses on green backgrounds resting on the polished woods of the two coffins. To the side there was a pedestal behind which an amiable looking man with silver-streaked hair and pronounced jowls stood. I recognized the chestnut hair and lanky frame of Tarazet from a distance, made even simpler by the fact that every single chair was empty except from the one taken by him. He seemed to have, likewise, noticed us from a distance, for he walked over and greeted me with a somber smile befitting of a funeral environment.
The female Auror, Tonks, behaved in a likewise somber manner, saying, "I'm sorry for your loss…es. Your losses."
Tarazet acknowledger her words with a nod of the head before turning to me and saying, "I wanted to warn you to not go whipping out your wand, or doing any other displays of magic. Although I suppose that applies more to you two," he jerked his head in the Aurors' directions. "The philosopher who's speaking at the funeral is a Muggle."
"The philosopher's a Muggle?" I repeated, surprised. "That's a bit too much irony for me," I had to give my brother an amused smile at of the surrealism of the situation, in spite of the somber environment.
"I know. Seginus and Matar would be rolling in their graves if they knew," he gave a small black laugh. "I never thought I could mean that literally," he disbelievingly shook his head.
"What's wrong with a Muggle being the philosopher? Or—I mean—Muggles call them ministers," Tonks asked, a frown creasing her brow.
Tarazet raised his eyebrows very slightly before lightly replying, "Seginus and Matar didn't like Muggles very much."
"Really, Tonks, what did you expect? They were convicted Death Eaters," the strawberry-blond Auror said his first words since the long legal disclaimer he gave me.
"Not all Death Eaters hate Muggles," I stated simply, a frown similar to Tonks' appearing on my face.
"Really? I gathered that that was their one defining trait," the pug-faced male Auror replied in an annoyed tone.
Tarazet pursed his lips. "People join for other reasons. Seginus and Matar were a bit extreme in their beliefs, anyway."
The tension from the conversation seemed to hang in the air, until Tonks cheerfully replied (well, cheerfully considering we were there to attend a funeral), "You should have told us ahead of time. We could have worn Muggle clothes."
Tarazet pursed his lips even more out of his increasing annoyance, until it looked as though he had been sucking on a lemon. "That would be disrespectful," he snapped out each word.
Tonks frowned. "Why? Muggles wear them to funerals."
"Muggles are welcome to wear whatever they want to their funerals, but that doesn't mean it's appropriately respectful for a Wizard's funeral. You don't see Muggles wearing robes to their funerals; they'd find it ridiculous, I'm sure," my youngest brother coolly laid out his argument.
"If you're so determined to keep Wizarding and Muggle culture separate, why did you hire a Muggle philosopher?" the female Auror sounded rather irate.
"Because putting on a funeral is expensive and it just about drained my bank account," Tarazet replied matter-of-factly.
"I suppose a Muggle minister was cheaper than an actual philosopher because the Wizard-to-Muggle currency conversion rate still favors Wizards?" I entered the conversation myself.
Tarazet nodded. "Even with that boost, though, I have literally three knuts left in my bank account," he gave an exasperated roll of his eyes.
"You should have asked me. You know you can always borrow from my account if you need to." As soon as I finished I immediately knew how my brother was going to respond and that I was wasting my breath.
"And you know I hate asking people for money. I'll be fine," he replied shortly. Growing up as one of the poorest families in the House of Slytherin had made all of us rather stubborn about being self-reliant when it came to financial manners.
I was a bit annoyed at his stubbornness (perhaps hypocritically so), so I replied, "You're going to get all my money, anyway, if I get life in prison."
"Don't talk like that!" Tarazet angrily snapped at my mention of the life prison sentence, and both of the Aurors guarding me jumped a bit. He seemed to realize now wasn't the time or place for such outbursts, though, for he added in a more subdued tone, "We should be focusing on the funeral. Let's head back; the philosopher is probably wondering why we're so far removed from the actual site of the services."
"My children, I am truly sorry for your losses. I hope you accept my sincere condolences," the philosopher greeted us in a sorrowful voice. We vaguely murmured our thanks before seating ourselves. I silently wished that I wasn't flanked by Aurors, just for the simple reason that it meant I had to talk over Tonks if I wanted to have a conversation with Tarazet.
"Did you tell Deneb?" I asked him, leaning forwards so I could see around the Auror.
"Yes. He was absolutely furious that I visited him while he was in his holding cell, though. He went on this long tirade about how he didn't associate with criminals, or endorse criminal activities, and that he was a law-abiding Ministry employee." Tarazet rolled his eyes. He had clearly reached the same conclusion as I had: Deneb was a Death Eater, even if he hadn't revealed it to us. "He conveniently gave this little speech in ear shot of several people, who I'm sure he will now call on a character witnesses. As I'm sure you can guess, he's not coming."
"Somehow I'm not surprised. He technically disowned Seginus and Matar a while ago, anyways," I repeated the old news.
"That reminds me, Deneb said he's disowning you, too," my youngest brother informed me.
I felt a pang of regret and sadness in my heart which faded to annoyance before fading completely. "I'm surprised it took him a whole week to disown me after my arrest," I said lightly.
"That is a bit slow for him. Funny how Deneb's an only child now by his counting, especially since he was born one of five.," Tarazet responded in an almost conversational tone.
"You know he's saying Seginus put him under the Imperius curse? I imagine that's going to be his defense in court," I said suddenly.
"What?" Tarazet frowned. "I mean…hm," he cut himself off with a glance at the Aurors. I had a feeling he had the same reaction as me: "Well, I may not like Seginus very much, but Deneb saying that Seginus put him under the Imperius curse is a despicable, back-stabbing lie."
The philosopher looked at his watch before scanning the row of mostly empty chairs. "Oh, dear, the funeral was scheduled to start now," he said with a slightly creased brow. "Let's wait a few more minutes. My child, are you sure everybody knows how to find their way to the burial site?"
Tarazet nodded, and I leaned forwards again to continue my conversation with him. "Did anybody you talked to tell you they were coming?" I quietly asked.
My brother shook his head. "I managed to find some of the Slytherins in Seginus and Matar's years and talk to them, and I also talked to some of Mother and Father's old friends, hoping they might come out of respect to our parents," he sounded as though he felt guilty that nobody had showed up yet.
"And?" I breathlessly asked, already guessing their responses.
"They said that when a man gets killed they never like to get mixed up in it in any way." I sighed. That seemed a very Slytherin thing to say. "They're probably afraid of being suspected as Death Eaters if they associate with them at all," he said almost bitterly.
"So why are you here, then?" the pug-faced Auror faced my brother and asked in a suspicious tone.
Tarazet raised his eyebrows slightly before coolly replying, "I have some sense of loyalty." The Auror looked annoyed, as though he had been hoping to get a confessional out of Tarazet that he was a Death Eater. Almost as though Tarazet was determined to show that the auror wasn't going to break off our conversation, Tarazet quickly plunged into a new topic of conversation: "You know Mother and Father are buried here?"
I nodded before realizing he wasn't looking at me. "I know. I visited their graves a few months back, after we had lunch one of those times."
Tarazet's head snapped towards me and for a split second the tense look on his face melted into a relieved smile. "I knew you would. When it gets down to it, you always do the right thing." I gave a hesitating half-smile in return; something told me if he had known the circumstances of Seginus's death he would not be saying that I always did "the right thing."
The philosopher gave an attention-collecting cough. "I'd like to start, unless there are any objections." None of us said anything and he launched into his pre-prepared speech. Even if he was a Muggle minister instead of a Wizard philosopher, the general ideas of his speech were the same as those that I had heard from philosophers before: the dead find peace, they are beginning a journey that we can now nothing of, etc. The philosopher did make some references that I didn't understand, though, and I vaguely wondered what he did when he wasn't lecturing at funerals; philosophers did research on death, the soul, ghosts and the afterlife, but I didn't know if such research required magic or not.
The philosopher finally gave a conclusive sounding "Amen" and closed the small black book in front of him, before stepping out from behind the podium and shaking each of our hands in turn. "I'm very sorry for your losses. If there is anything I can do to ease your hardship." He spoke to us individually, in what I imagined was supposed to be a more personal tone than the speech, but the intended effect was mostly lost due to the already small audience size. "You are…friends? Family?" He continued conversationally, addressing the four of us as a group.
"They're family," Tonks replied politely, indicating Tarazet and I.
"Ah, so half family, half friends. Well, the loss of a loved one is always difficult, be it friend or family," the philosopher continued in his sympathetic voice.
"We're not friends," the strawberry-blond Auror replied curtly. "We're guards for her," he jerked his thumb towards me.
The philosopher's eyes opened wide and he turned to me. "Are you in danger, my child?"
The Auror let out a hollow laugh before continuing in a derisive voice, "No, you misunderstand. We're protecting the world from her. She's a criminal. She's awaiting her trial."
The philosopher took a step back and his innocent, wide-open eyes gained an alarmed look. "Oh…oh dear…" I stubbornly looked at my feet, too ashamed of my status as a criminal to look him in the eyes.
In the periphery of my vision I saw Tarazet looking extremely annoyed. "Don't talk about my sister in that tone of voice," he angrily snapped.
The Auror's face darkened. "Like you're one to talk. If I recall correctly, you spent fifteen years in prison."
The philosopher turned towards Tarazet and his eyes opened even more widely, if possible. "Is this true?"
"Oh, it's true alright," the strawberry-blond Auror continued. He jerked his head towards the two coffins. "Their two brothers were convicted criminals, too, you now. Life sentences."
"Oh…oh dear…" was all the philosopher said as he looked between the four of us, the franticness and glint of fear in his eyes reminiscent of a caged animal. "Well, I, uh, I must be going. If you ever wish to repent for your sins, I would be happy to welcome you to my congregation. Until then, goodbye," he finished his hurriedly spoken stream of words before giving a weak wave and quickly striding away.
I felt rage start mingling with the sadness and guilt already in my veins. How dare that man judge all of us, I thought angrily, As though our whole existence is summed up in the word 'criminal.'
"Alright, funeral's over," the male Auror continued in a business-like voice, oblivious to Tarazet's and my anger; even Tonks gave her fellow Auror an annoyed glance for his behavior. "Let's go," he barked.
I gave one last desperate glance around the cemetery and tried to hold the image in my mind—the blue sky, the thin white clouds on the horizon, the green of the clipped grass and the brown of the tree trunks and the chirping of the birds—everything. If my meager defense was seen through in the trial, this would be the last time I would ever see the outdoors for the rest of my life, and a sort of panic seized me at that thought. "I'll visit—" Tarazet started, but soon I was whizzing away to my holding cell, courtesy of the two Aurors flanking me, and I couldn't hear his words anymore.
I nervously sat, tightly clasping my hands together and feeling as though any moment my vocal cords would simply fall out of my throat. I wonder if mutes have to testify in court, I vaguely wondered as I looked around the small, half-filled court room. I recognized my court-assigned lawyer, who was determined to get me acquitted. Whether he honestly believed I was innocent, or simply thought it would better his reputation, I didn't know, and I didn't care as long as it resulted in me being let go. Otherwise, the court room had the prosecution, one or two journalists, a few law students, the jury, Dumbledore, and Tarazet. Tarazet gave me a reassuring smile as my eyes passed over him. I would have smiled back, only it seemed that my brain had decided to relinquish all control of my muscles.
"You are Liseli Colburn, birth date the fourth of April, 1962. Is that correct?" the prosecution's booming voice silenced the quiet chatter in the room. I nodded. Trusting my throat to actually let words out seemed like awfully poor odds. "You are legally required to verbally respond," the nasally voice drawled.
"Y-yes. Yes I am Liseli Colburn," the words managed to squeak out of my throat.
The prosecutor continued his legal jargon, further confirming my identity by asking my various places of residence and occupations in turn. I felt as though I was liable to dissolve into a puddle of nerves any minute, and I was only on the simple questions! "I am now going to run down a list of charges and you are going to respond 'Guilty' or 'Not guilty.' If you respond 'Guilty' this does not necessarily mean you will be sentenced for that particular crime, as there are still a variety of excusable defenses, including self-defense, insanity, the greater good, et cetera," the mosquito-whine of a voice continued. I can do this, I attempted to relax. I'm not a willful Death Eater, as evidenced by my killing of Seginus. That's the defense we're going for and my lawyer already instructed me how to respond. I'll be fine. "You are charged with disrupting the public peace. How do you plead?"
A deep breath. "Disrupting the public peace," that was legal jargon for being a willful Death Eater. My voice only had one tremor in it as I responded "Not guilty."
"The use of Unforgivable curses on Aurors."
Another generic charge for being a willful Death Eater. "Not guilty."
"The use of the Cruciatus curse on Seginus Colburn."
My eyes flickered towards Tarazet. A slight crease had formed on his forehead at the reading of that charge, but his expression was otherwise undisturbed. "Guilty." No reaction.
"The murder of Seginus Colburn with the Avada Kedavra curse."
The frown on his face intensified, accompanied by a puzzled, disbelieving look. I could practically tell the rest of his thoughts by the confused look on his face: "Why on Earth are they charging you with that?" He didn't know. He didn't understand. He thought it must be a phony charge. I focused on a piece of wall directly over his head; I couldn't look at him as I let that single word slip from my lips: "Guilty."
Tarazet's look of utter confusion only deepened and he rubbed his temples as though attempting to solve an incomprehensible riddle. Slowly, the lines of anguished confusion faded, one by one, as though with each step of the riddle he solved another line vanished, until all of the pieces had slid into place and now he understood: I was telling the truth. The expression left resting on his face was a pained one of disgust, betrayal, and shocked disbelief. "How could you?" he mouthed, as I attempted to break eye contact and pretend that I had not seen his reaction.
That didn't stop me from feeling a pang of guilt combined with helplessness at my brother's reaction. I wanted to start yelling, "I'm sorry!" but I couldn't, not in a court room. Dumbledore had said I did the right thing, but now I was feeling a sudden impulse to somehow reverse my actions. If I could actually chose again, though, would I kill Severus? I couldn't imagine myself doing that, either. I should have done the "right" thing--if there even had been a "right" course of action.
"The preliminary questions are finished," the judge's voice boomed. "We will now take a ten minute recess." Most of the people in the room stood up and milled towards the doors. My brother walked into the outside hall with the rest of the mob as I stayed in the courtroom with my lawyer. The difference between Tarazet and the crowd, though, is that the members of the crowd came back, slowly but surely. The trial started up again and more questions were asked of various people. No matter how many times I looked at the doors, or scoured the audience looking for his chestnut hair and light blue eyes, it was no use. He never came back.
…
A/N: So, I have an outline of the story that goes all the way to the ending and I can say for sure that there are only two chapters left of this story. (Results of the trial are next chapter, in case you were wondering.) Anyways, a huge thank you to tibys, angelofire, Mark Darcy, Lizard Demon from Pluto and SchwarzShifter for reviewing!
Disclaimer: I couldn't stop thinking about the funeral in The Great Gatsby while planning the scene where Seginus and Matar are buried, so I stuck in an allusion to it. Tarazet's line "They said that when a man gets killed they never like to get mixed up in it in any way" is a paraphrasing of Meyer Wolfsheim's line "When a man gets killed I never like to get mixed up in it in anyway."