Sorry, no new chapter. I´ve just changed something
All: Merry Christmas to everyone: Another chapter of Hermione's way trough the ethnical nirvana. You'll certainly know my lousy English. Well a very nice person had betaed some chapters, though it seemed as if she is very busy with other things right now. Well, so if anyone else would scarifie him/herself to help me as a second beta, I'd love him/her for the rest of my life. So please… beta me
All: Just something I wanted to mention. Most german readers felt sorry for Hermione, the readers of the English-version feel sorry for Voldemort. That's interesting to me…
Lap: I think only movie or book heros would really stay cool under such circumstances. And it's the most terrible situation Voldemort is able to think of.
Bella: No, his wand is not at Malfoy Manor. He broke it (as far as I know) as he stole the elder-wand from the dead Dumbledore. And Harry took the elder-wand after he defeated him. Or Voldemort defeated himself.I don't think the ministry would do anything to help Voldemort to bear his "end". They're not very human in this world I think.
13: No, it´s not a real Ron bashing. I feel sympathy for him. It's...well...it's difficult to him either. He behaves so silly because he knows that there's something Hermione doesn't tell him. It makes him distrustfully but he doesn't dares asking her what's going on because this could mean that she gives him answers on questions he likes to push to the back of his mind.
Chapter 20: Start of the trial
On the morning of the trial of the start, Lord Voldemort would presumably have only a few days more to live, Hermione didn't go to the hospital. One had told her on the eve, that the Aurors would come for him to bring him to the ministry in the early hours of the morning. She wouldn't be allowed to be with her dear enemy till the trial was over and he would be going to spend his last hours in the his hospital-cell again. There he would be waiting, till he would go forever.
Hermione invented her parents under the pretext of showing her unbelievable, marvelous room in the Leaky Cauldron to them. The psychological healer suggested her to get herself some help and support during the trial. Long time enough she had to be strong, long enough she had to carry an overwhelming burden on her young shoulders, all by her own. So the healer said it was nothing but fair to call for her parents to take care of her. Upcoming days would be hard enough, she wouldn't have to make them even harder, by going through them all alone. And she would be alone. She'd known it, before the psychological healer told her she would be.
Of course this pretext wasn't really well, but Hermione parents got concerned as they heard her daughters desperate voice on the telephone, so they decided on short notice closing their surgery for a few days and visiting Hermione.
Her oh so interesting room in Tom's pub was much to small to house two further persons, so the Weasleys offered to take them in the Burrow during the next days.
Somehow it worked very well. Arthur Weasley was blissfully to have so much Muggle-Know-How around him and the Grangers were happy to learn so much new about the magical world. Anyhow, Hermione doubted the mood would still be as peaceful then they came home in the evening, after the start of the trial.
xXx
It was eight a clock in the morning. All, that was confirmed officially was, that the trial which was about to take place in the next days should be against only one death-eater whose conviction should be obtained as soon as possible. Since his identity was kept dark yet, where was much room for speculations.
Hermione entered the circular courtroom with wobbly knees. Similar to a lecture theatre or a cinema hall, the wooden seat rows rose upwards so the "audience" could see the free, circular area in the middle.
No, not a cinema hall. That was wrong. The courtroom today was more likely to the arena of the Colosseum in Rome´s old days. Soon the gladiators would be brought in which should be vanquished by the gladi…no…aurors, for all the world to see as a satisfying kind of public entertainment. Afterwards Cesar, in this case the new minister and supreme judge of the wizengamott, would turn his thumb down to deathblow for Lord Voldemort.
Many more people as usual crowded into the ministry this morning. The atmosphere was prevaided with a anxious tenson. It wasn't the first death-eater trial, but of course all who´d observed the last trials noticed, that the names of all the other accused were known, only this special prisoner was nameless. Rita Skeeter even dared to call the prisoner "he-who-must-not-be-named" in her daily column. An allusion that hit the nail exactly on the head .
Rumors spread through the magical society, since no one seemed to know what really happened as Lord Voldemort died during the battle. The ministry had refused to comment about anything and… the dead body was missing. Sure, some ministry-members started the roomers that Voldemorts body had been burned in the forbidden forest, but that was just something again, nobody had seen. So, no one knew what really happened, all was known was, that the ministry hid some facts.
Yes, what had really happened that night? Ben had already told them, what the curse that fell back on him that night had been an alleviated grazing shit. Obviously he'd accomplished to weaken the force of the Avada Kedavra and to lead it away of his body-centre in the very last minute.
But this curse had been also in it's weakened form strong to injure it's creator perilous. That was fallen to the floor in the great hall wasn't a dead body but something that was on the verge of being just that. The green flash had hit the Dark Lord, he sunk to the ground and that was all that was noticed or done in the middle of all that happy people around him.
The following medical examination wasn't carried out before his body was brought to the lumber-room in which they carried him after the end of the battle. Madame Pompfrey noticed immediately, that the fallen dictator was still breathing. Minerva McGonagall, who was with her there, sent for some healers who looked after injured Hogwarts Student, to examine him again. No doubt, he was breathing. So they also sent for Kinsgley Shackelbolt to let the him about the problem. Some deeply ethical unpleasing Minutes they considered if it wouldn't be the best, to let the dying man simply lie right where he was to give free rein to the natural process … till Shackelbolt came up with the idea, how clear they could white-wash the name of the country if they saved the murderers life in order to destroy it in public later on. A treacherous murder would leave the bitter taste of something barbarian, but to kill him after he'd been correctly convicted and sentenced, that looked like proper justice.
Six people were in the lumber-room, about twelve staff members of knew who was attended, or better, locked up in the cellar. Sixteen different aurors take turns in standing guard in the hospital. This 34 people were obviously not quite as closemouthed and careful as they should be.
Either some unmindful remarks slipped out were mouths, some reports were read by the wrong eyes or some conversations were eavesdropped on the wrong ears, but all together was enough to spread a lot of new rumors whereby the Dark Lord was still alive.
But this was just a story of many others. Since the ministry still adhered to Voldemords death this information stayed rumors and nothing else.
This weekend the ministry firstly gave out some more exact information's, but the newspapers were held off till Monday eight a clock, the start of the trial. There was a great fear of a mass-panic or riots if anyone would know that might have handicapped the court.
But, as mentioned, there were rumors.
Similar to other death-eater trials, the people who wanted to watch had to write their names in lists which where hung out at the ministry, a few days ago.
Safety precautions to avoid a blood vengeance. Besides, the courtroom wasn't big enough to take all the people in who had a score to settle with the death-eaters.
In this case, in this trial, the number of viewers was limited and sieved, in addition to this. The ones who were selected got an owl last eve with a permission. Without this, no one would be allowed to enter the courtroom. All the other ones in the crowded ministry would have to wait in the corridors if this rumors would proof themselves as true.
The licensed persons were in a long queue to get into the courtroom because they had to hand their wands over to two Safety-Wizards who also registered them.
Hermione got a permission, Ron too. Like numerous of other well knows faces which sat all around the three Gryffindors. Most of them had fought Voldemort actively. The selection of the Audience was a downright good hint to identity of the accused, at all. The numbered seats in the room were apportioned to the selected ones. As much orders as possible should be arranged in the run-up.
The witnesses sat also in the courtroom, yet. They should know who they should testify against before they would be brought out to wait till they would be called.
Who entered the courtroom was surprised. The front seats were removed magically. The stage, one could call it what way, where the play was about to take place, was heightened and widened.
The room was enlightened by hundreds of torches and beacon fires. In the middle of the room, there where the free area was, where the accused should be questioned, was a mosaic, made of thousands of tiny gemstones, inserted in the floor, which pictured the Magical Brethren.
The stony floor, the with marble clothed dark, windowless walls of the basement vault and the echo-like resonate of every noise in the wide-ranging courtroom, as well as the slight mouldy smell which prevailed the cold room let it appear like a crypt.
Hermione shuddered at this compare. Of course it's been a long time ago since the last people were sentenced to death in here. The magical society of Britain abandoned doing this since 50 or 60 years, but yet, this secret World of Wizards and witches wasn't merciful but reigned with a iron fist. The punishments were often disproportional hard and cruel… and they wouldn't start to show interested in human questions if the accused one deserved a cruel treatment like (barley) no one ever before.
The Judges and Charge-Seats rounded in the circle of the Audience-Seats up, but this area was separated by thick stone-walls. Like a opera-loge, this area was much more comfortable, luxuries and every person who sat here had enough place to breath instead of the Audience who was crowded together like chicken in a laying battery.
A throne-like chair on which the accused would be chained was placed in front of this area to face the persons there.
Hermione alongside Ron and Harry on middled seats at the left end of the courtroom. The chair on which the accused would be captivated stood obliquely opposite to them. She would have him in her eyes during the whole time. Was this good or bad?
Harry seesawed nervous on his seat back and forth. Fumbled with agitated fingers about the crumpled letter he'd got a few weeks ago from the ministry. His whole body trembled, he nearly panted with nervousness and red spots appeared on his pale and fearful face. Of course he´d heard the rumors, but they were just rumors, weren't they? Since he was no horkrux anymore he had no way to invade in Voldemorts mind, so no change to see if there was still something left. To find out, if his nemesis was still alive.
Besides, he'd seen him dying, had he?
But since no one else in the room seemed to come up with a better idea who the accused could be, the atmosphere was poisoned with fear and tension. All around they muttered it. „Haven't you heard it? Does anyone know what happened to him after Harry Potter defeated? Has anyone seen his dead body?" calming objections followed immediately. "It can't be true. They'd seen him dying there. They burnt the body, so there is nothing what could be shown left."
Augusta Longbottom sat alongside her Neville at the opposite side. Luna Lovegood and her father sat, thanks to the press card, a couple of rows up front. Hermione didn't even want to imagine that Xenophilius Lovegood´s Paper would write about this revelation.
Some professors of Hogwarts were there as well. Hermione nodded and gave them an unsuccessful smile. If it was possible the avoid, Hermione would talk to them in no way. Not today. Not even to Hagrid, who, she heard it from Harry, should testify as a witness as well.
Kingsley Shackelbolt collected around him numerous, high-ranking government officials. Following to the flags in their robes, some of them came from other countries to attended this trial.
The door opened and twenty aurors entered the room which placed themselves in a circle around the dock. Red flashes shot out of the aurors wands and melted to bars around that, that was supposed to be in there, to separate it from the audience and it's judges and accusers .A protego-shield was also conjured around the judge-loge. The doors were belayed with additional bans as well.
The room looked like a big top in which's middle a predator-cage was build up.
The crowd got increasingly more nervous. Why were the safety measures tightened?
Hermione pushed Ron's side and pointed ahead. Harry turned around as well.
Draco, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were appointed a seat in the front-row. They would have to leave the room, like Harry, later on. The whole family Malfoy seemed to be caught by the agitation in the room. Their faced shone sweat-wet, and while they went into a huddle, and might whispered and muttered assumptions who the accused could be.
The aurors shortened the circle around the dock and belayed the empty seat with additional banns and curses. After this was done, they widened the circle of protectors again. As large as possible, they backed off to the Audience-rows and appeared as if they wouldn't want to get the one, who would be in their middle soon, even one inch nearer as necessary.
The murmur of the crowd got louder and louder. What could might come up to them that justified the high anxiety and wariness?
Anew the aurors raised their wands and cut the noise level. By a twirl with their wands they dimmed the voice-level of the audience to a silent whisper. But these anxious whispers, that spread in the room made it appear all the more eerie and eldritch.
Charges and judges, all of them appeared tensed. Some were white, some red-spotted in their faces. They leered at the door nervously, heavily breathing they wriggled about on their chairs if they may should put their on safety on top and hide themselves under their seats.
But at some time the tension wasn't bearable anymore and so they had to start.
Shackelbolt nodded to the charge-witch, who rose thereupon with wobbly legs so that she'd nearly fell on her assistant. But she managed to stand up again, straightened and proclaimed with a surprisingly loud and poised voice.
"Next hearing, the wizengamott against Tom Marvolo Riddle."
Some, no only a few people of the crowd turned pale on the mentioning of this name. But Hermione detected the hope in their faces that this was a due to a misunderstanding. Maybe they got Mafalda Hopkirk wrong and she said just a similar sounding name.
But the most people in the room appeared unmoved on that name so it was obvious to Hermione what they didn't had the slightest clue whose name it was. What should be so special about this Riddle? He even wasn't a known death-eater.
Harry and Ron had been so deep in their conversations that they didn't got Hopkirk calling the Accused. Totally clueless about looked around n bewilderment. Like the Malfoys did who didn't hear the Accused names neither, because they'd been so deep in puzzling about the identity of the accused.
Mafalfy Hokirk asked again for absolute silence in the room, as she went on: „Take the accused in, now."
The big, heavy ebonydoor of the hall swung up and four further aurors stepped into the courtroom. They'd taken the accused into their middle, shadowed him with their bodies in the front, to the left, to the right and back from the prying eyes of the audience. Nothing was seen but a black robe, wore by a rather tall man whose face appeared blurred in a strange way so that no one could detect anything, even on closer inspection.
A sharp scream and a women fainted. Ron and Harry jumped up their seats. "Can you see anything? What happened to the women?" Harry wanted to know from Ron as he wiped his glasses with his robe. Evidently thinking, that his smudgy glassed their to blame for him not seeing anything.
"No, nothing. I don't see anything at all. As if this guy was fogged. His totally blurred." Ron replayed disappointed as he tried with even more effort to catch anything through the black fog.
One more panicle scream and again another one. Although the whisper-charm over the hall made it impossible to the people to get loud, one could perceive an agitated murmuring from all around. The tension in the room wasn't bearable any longer.
The accused and his guards reached to dock and turned to the judge-loge. The moment the aurors who'd guided him into the room, stepped aside to walk over to the other aurors, the irrecognizable-charm which lay on the accused was taken away from him. The just a moment ago blurred silhouettes got increasingly sharper till the whole body and the pale face of the man was visible again.
There, tall, black-dressed and ghostly pale stood the most feared warlock of all ages.
Lord Voldemort.
Panic was on the verge of breaking out in the hall. Chairs were overthrown, people fell from their seats, some of them throw themselves under their neighbors place
purposely . Fearful screams echoed from the walls and lurid flashes enlightened the hall , not caused by cursed but hundreds of cameras from the press-members who shot photos so avidly, as if it was a matter of life and death.
Rita Skeeter and her Colleges would undoubtedly send thousands of them away during the day so the first of them would be printed and published in the evening prophet. And the world would know… So all in the magical world could see the presumed dead and now captivated Dark Lord.
The fear of death blew through the room like a high- infectious disease with caught all who stared at the pale man in the very middle of the room. All, without exception, rummaged around in their robes hectically and bags because they'd forgot that they'd handed their weapons out at the door.
One man, chained and surrounded by 24 aurors let the feeling of defenselessness rise in hundreds of people.
Lord Voldemort stood straight, proud and with a boastful smirk in front of his accusers and seemed to be deeply amused on the panic that broke out about his arrival. Screaming, panicle and desperate people were probably a well known sight to him.
His hands were magically chained on his back, twenty-four wands pointed at him but he was still serene and calm and didn't show the slightest trace of fear.
His sight was so strange to Hermione because it was so familiar. This was exactly the man she wanted to kill a half-year ago. He'd looked just like that during the battle at Hogwarts.
Surreal was the memory of the reduced to a skeleton, helpless man she met in early may in ´s. He must have gained 30 pounds since then so that he might still looked thin but neither weak nor ill.
That wasn´t the panicle bag of nerves to that the fear of death had made him just a few days ago. Maybe he'd yielded up to his destiny but Hermione was sure that he was just much to proud to show weakness during his last performance.
Hermione attention was caught by the family Malfoy. Narcissa was, as far as it was possible due to the jostle around her shied away with a sharp scream of horror, clutching Draco to her breast who was rather green than pale as his mother and didn't seemed to give anything on the humiliating infant-treatment he got from his mother.
Lucius Malfoys grey-blue eyes met the mischief-proclaiming red, gleaming eyes of his master and was caught by his gaze, chained and burnt… till he wasn't able to take it anymore and fainted unconscious besides his wife and son.
An old witch, who noticed Lucius break-down, jumped surprisingly fast from her seat, climbed on her chair and yelled, while she pointed with her outstretched finger at the accused. "He'd killed him!"
But Lucius was already awake and allowed his wife and his son to get him on his feet again. Voldemort himself rewarded this play with an sneering grin.
His eyes wandered over the three Malfoys pleasurably , as his lips formed a mute, profoundly evil greet. Hermione knew this sparkle in his eyes If the aurors hadn't been around him, or even a few less… the Malfoys wouldn't have one further minute to life on.
How about Lucius break-down? Voldemort couldn't have…no, that was impossible. Hopefully.
The accused didn't have a counsel for defense. Another detail that made the wizengamott, and the whole magical Britain look morally questionable. There were no lawyers in the usual sense. There were some people who offered their help and advises against money, but the accused had to be alone in the court. So no wonder, that accused turned almost automatically into convict.
Voldemorts death's head like head turned slowly from the right corner of the room through the right and seemed to bowl on his shoulders and long throat, while he combed with a sharp glance through the audience to search for familiar. Every time his eyes caught former victims, he sneered at them and nodded hardly noticeable. As his glance reached the left, as he saw Hermione, his smirk froze.
Hermione swallowed, felt heat and redness rise in her face, she considered for a moment but than forced herself to a encouraging smile and nodded to her captured friend. He looked at her a few seconds, to her, no doubt about this, with an unmoved mien, the his thin lips curled to something that might could mean "Hermione" , replayed the nod with half-closed eyes into her direction, then turned over to the judge-loge again.
The one who'd watched this stared stunned at Hermione. This weren´t less. The eyes of the persons slid from her to him, back again to her, over to him and then they shook their heads with disbelieving horror in their eyes.
Harry and Ron gasped, wheezed and squeezed themselves backwards into their seats…till their eyes wandered to Hermione who seemed to be the only one in the whole hall who sat absolutely still, transformed into a pillar of salt, straight, frozen, between her two best friends. And they knew, without needing one single word, they knew Hermione's secret.
Knowing they looked at the young girl and moved immediately a few inches away from her, needed distance and room in order to grasp the whole situation which revealed itself in it's in its entirety.
Ron coughed, his brain was devoured to a tremendously knot which's convolutions seemed only to be able to handle what he'd just heard in slow-motion.
Disbelieving, as if she was a hallucination, Ron stared to Hermione, to Voldemort, back to Hermione and then help seeking over to Harry. Harry looked as if he was on the verge of vomiting, considering if he should rather faint or scream and pressed his hand against the scar on his head. But if he suffered from headaches now, this couldn't be caused by his connection to Voldemort, could it?
The black-haired young-man couldn't take his eyes away from his nemesis, as if he was under a spell, he stared at the man who ´d ruled his destiny. The one he stared at honored the horror of his former victim pleasurably by smirking at him with a threatening, big shark-grin.
Hermione swallowed, searched for words, wanted to apologies herself or, at least, to explain but Ron didn't listen to her. Didn't seem to be near her at all, deeply sunken in memories till he finally turned his head slowly to her and asked reproachful. "I see."
His glance was reproachful and accusingly but he wasn't able to speak on. He wasn't even able to yell at her or to blame her for that she'd done because this might could mean that he'd get answered to questions he was scared of. Hermione slipped closer , wanted to hug him, wanted to do anything to be with him but he just moved away from her and pushed her arm away.
Ron didn't look at her mute begging for sympathy or forgiveness. All he did was to shook his head, stood up without looking at her and changed his seat with Harry to have a human barrier between them.
Harry himself was still to stunned to recognize anything. Just stared at the man whose death he thought he was to blame for and who now smirked at him, whispering sneering words. Noiseless to everyone else in the room but Hermione knew all to well how threatening Voldemorts conjuration sounded that flooded Harry's head now.
A broad-shouldered, blonde auror tipped Voldemort with his wand on his shoulder. The sudden wince that thrilled the wrapped in a black robe pale body told Hermione, that the prisoner was upbraided with an electric-shock like curse.
The connection between Harry and Voldemort broke down. Short, very short, just a heart-beat long, Harry seemed tempted to turn to Hermione to bomb her with millions of reproaches and question, but he paused in his movement, set bounds to himself and turned to on instead.
She didn't hear about what the two young man conversed as they huddled together. They whispered, but on and off gazes fell on Hermione which weren't friendly.
Sie hörte nicht, worüber die jungen Männer sich unterhielten. Sie flüsterten, doch immer wieder fielen Blicke Hermine hinüber, und diese Blicke, sie waren nicht freundlich.
The young women shrunk to something that felt as worthless as the dirt under her shoes.
It toke some minutes till the security-personal and the beadles calmed the panic in the hall down so that the Charge-Witch made to turn her attention back from the raging Audience to the accused. With magical strengthened , but undeniable troubled sounding voice, she addressed the Dark Lord. "Are you Tom Marvolo Riddle. Born on 31 December 1925 in London?"
Voldemort nodded. „Yes."
Mafalda Hopkirk dared to arche and eye-brow and looked into his face. "Is it Tom or Thomas?"
Voldemort smirked. "No, just Tom."
Shackelbolt rose to speak. He stood up and Malady sat down. "Mr. Riddle. Is it right that you're better known under the self-chosen pseudonym "Lord Voldemort" in our world?"
Voldemort nodded again, seemed to be rather bored than attentive.
"Yes. I bear this name since schooldays." Sounded the strong, pervading and dreadful cold voice in the deadly silent room. Goosebumps blew like pollen through the room at the sound of this voice, gave the creeps to everyone who heard it.
Shackelbolt tried to look severe and authoritarian, but seemed to be worried at Voldemorts poise.
Maybe he'd just remembered how he fought together with Slughorn and McGonagall against the warlock in front of him. Even they'd been three they didn't had a change… Even tough they all belonged to the most skilled magicians on the continent.
„Mr. Riddle. I inform you that the court is not willing to accept this name. It's self chosen, is entirely unfounded and is a synonym for decades of terror which is over now. The court won't support this, by submitting to your megalomania. We well call you Mr. Riddle during the trial."
Shackelbolt had to dab his sweated forehead before he was able to go on. "Mr. Riddle. Do you know that our world considers you as dead since the battle of Howarts?"
„Yes. I've been told so." replayed the accused, still totally calm.
„Well, then I'm now going to explain you and the people why." Shackelbolt, a gigantic, black man folded his hands devoutly, seemed to need a moment to collect before we went on to explain the circumstances that persuaded him to the secrecy.
„After you'd been hit by the curse one thought you were dead. The following medical examination detected vital-functions. You'd been taken away to keep your survival a secret. One wouldn't give you the change the attract misplaced attention or committing followers to you again. You will keep your actual abode a secret. I won't allow you to give any interviews to define your position."
Threatening glances fell on the deeply disappointed appearing Rita Skeeter, and wandered over to other representatives of the press who all made a face as if Christmas and birthdays would be canceled for the next 30 years.
„You will have to testify in court and nowhere else. You've had enough time to terrorize the world with your threats and delusional ideas. This is over now."
The worst had come to the worst, but now was time to ensure safety. The wands still raised, two aurors stepped out of the circle, pointed at Voldemorts head and made two long, black panels shoot out of their tips that met over Voldemorts head, melted together, placed themselves around Voldemorts head and tied up by an invisible hand.
This served two purposed at one. On the one hand it could avoid Voldemort from taking possession of other people with eye-contact, but on the other hand it was a way to calm the people in the court because they didn't had to see these cruel, flaming eyes while talking to him.
Shackelbolt sat down, dabbed his forehead again, considered that was the next to come, then nodded to Mafalda Hopkirk, the present chief of the Magical Law Enforcement and summoned her to talk. "Read the charge out now, please."
Mafalda Hopkirk arose again. The eyes directed to the parchment in her hands she began to enumerate the upcoming items."
"The International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats and the whole international federation of warlocks bring a charge against Tom Marvolo Riddle. Charges are:
Genocidecrimes against humanityFoundation and leadership of a terrorist organization of international extend. Execution and incitement to murder, torture and rape in countless cases
Incitement of the people
Ethnocide on Muggles. More precisely defined: Libel, vilification and discrimination of all not-magic people.
Psychologically abuse and torture in countless cases
kidnapping, abduction and false imprisonment in countless cases
Spreading of apartheid.
Mass-Mourder of magic Creatures, as well as torturing them
Enslavement of magical creatures.
Execution as well as enhancements of the dark arts: Particularly the making of seven Horcruxes as well as the use of unforgivable curses.
Incitement to the unforgivable curses in countless cases.
Incitement to the dark arts.
xecution and incitement to the use of unforgivable curses in countless cases.
False arrests and sentences without a legal basis
Displacement of half-bloods, muggle-born und not-magical humans.
Overthrow of the elected government. Putsch
Necessitation of the followers to commit crimes against their will
Necessitation of minor wizards to commit the named above crimes
Undermining of the domestic economy
Misappropriation of valuably, magical objects as well as the destruction of government property
Abuse of titles
n addition, all of this crimes show a cruelty of so far unknown extend.
That's why the charge demands a death sentence.
Did you understand this?"
„Yes!" sounded the Dark Lords cold, clear voice who'd really yawned as his crimes were read out. And still he stood there, faced his charges, straight and poised, without any sign or fear or remorse in his face.
Hermione had loved nothing better than kicking him. Why did have to yawn? And other ones had seen this too. Mute fingers pointed at him, disbelieving mumbling pervaded the room, nodding and disgusted glares followed.
But at the same time she'd almost run to him to take him into her arms, to protect him from so much hate. But… they their right, she knew it. All who hated him had reason to do this.
He won't survive this, in no case. That, so thought Hermione to herself, is impossible. "Good" a mere heart-breath long, the charge-witch seemed to have lost the thread… Voldemorts lips curled sneering… could he really have manipulated his accuser? Hermione was appalled at so much presumptuousness.
But then the blonde women with the pageboy picked up courage again, adjusted her glasses, found the parchment she'd forgotten in fact between her fingers again and spoke on with a little disarranged voice. "I will no explain the proceeding. The charge has 40 witnesses subpoenaed, who will verify the crimes you are charged as true. I want to point out that these cases are in fact just exemplary. Hundreds of thousands or perhaps millions could tell us something just like that. But all those witnesses are staying for certain periods of your life, Mr. Riddle. You will be allowed to comment on accusation after the end of the particular testimony. I now have to ask all witnesses to leave the courtroom till we will call them. So please, leave the hall now. Except for Mr. Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy, we're going to start with you."
Mafalda looked up from her parchment, lifted a hand and summoned him to betake himself to the witness stand.
Turbulences came up again is the witness walked out of the room. Guided from aurors they shoved themselves through the cramped seat rows, pushed and jostled other persons because not one of them looked to ahead but to the Dark Lord who appeared to be quite casual.
Because Harry had to leave to, Hermione sat again alongside Ron, who didn't seem to have recognized the free seat between them at all. He kneaded his hands, let his eyes wander through the crowd and smiled on and off to familiar-faced. Neville Longbottom for example.
Hermione felt again as if her heart or would burst what with all of these contradictory feelings.
She'd known it. She'd known it since she 11 and read her first book about the magical world. She'd witnessed as he haunted Harry. As he haunted her and all the other "mudbloods" in the country and witnessed Voldemort menacing the whole world.
Since Dumbldedore had warned them against him. Since Harry had disclosed his secrets. Since they'd moved off to destroy him and particularly since she'd met this met this murderer for the first time.
Since then she knew that he was vicious. More than vicious, the most evil thing on earth was the man who now was on trial without a trace of remorse about the crimes he'd done.
And yet…yet she couldn't believe it.
The pitiable pictures of the last months were just too actual . Unforgettable were also the not unpleasing hours they'd spend together as they'd got to know each other better.
Monsters are nether humans who are so closed to you. Such big-time criminals were only in news papers. That couldn't be the man she'd to tend like a baby as she began in St. Mungo, who'd offered her lessons and taught her so many fascinating things, who'd, what now become clear to her , borne all of her therapy-attempts with an unearthly patience. The man who'd sometime not been able to breathe then the fear of death overwhelmed him.
How could a man, who'd been so good, who'd shown so much affection to a little cat, who waited hours just for a good moment to stroke her cheeks, who'd freaked out every time he'd got the sniffles… could this same man be to one who'd tortured, killed and…she didn't even dared to think about… raped so many people?
At least, they gave him adequate clothes. In no way to preserve his dignity. They gave him a black robe to increase his recall value. All should see, recognize, grasp that HE was the terror who´d threatened the whole world.
„Sit down." Hopkirk addressed the captive again. The handcuffs were unloosed, then they sat him on the chair and chained his hands, legs, arms, knees, chest and waist with red-gleaming
Curses.
Mafalada Hopfkirk folded her hands on her lap as if she wanted to pray. She glanced through the room, full of sympathy for all the people who'd gathered there and especially for those who didn't know about the trial, because they were already dead.
"Before the hearing starts, we will observe a minute's silence in memory of the victims of the war. Witches and Wizards who cannot attend the trial anymore because they are dead. We dedicate this trial to all those , we can bestow justice only afterwards. Those whose pain we cannot alleviate anymore. Let us be silent for a minute and hope, that we can offer comfort to the bereaved at least, by acknowledging their sorrow and the injustice they'd experienced. An injustice we're going to sentence and punish now."
All the people in the hall lowered their saddened eyes and thought on their died family members, friends, colleges and neighbors. Grey faces, wherever one looked. A funeral to burry the injustice who sat in the shape of Lord Voldemort in their middle.
Hermione kept the silence too, lowered her eyes and watched her hands, while she thought about Dumbledore and all the others who weren't alive anymore. Because of him…the man who'd – could it be?- almost made one of the aurors taking his fetters off him, if his colleges hadn't prevented it.
Appalled glances were exchanged, only beaten by the amusement in his face. No one was safe before his face. He'd proofed it… as well as he'd proofed that they couldn't kill him fast enough.
This though was unbearable. She moved closer to Ron, sobbing silently. But right in the moment she stood up to sit herself on the free place between them, Ron pushed his neighbor aside in order to get even further away from her. Still he deigned to look at her but closed his eyes, pressed his lips together and swayed back and forth.
Hermione raised her wand, wanted to bring comfort to him but he beat her hand away as he felt her touch with a nauseated expression. Their eyes met, only short, but Ron's eyes were so could and she noticed nothing but contempt and an unutterably disappointment in them. Unable to say just one single word he shook his head and turned away from her. Every inch of his body seemed to yell: "How could you?". More than just a free seat, a whole world seemed to separate them.
„I call to the stand: Mr. Lucius Malfoy!" echoed the now poised and colder voice of Mafalda Hopkirk through the hall.
A beadle arose and walked to the blonde, elegant appearing man an led him to his seat underneath the judge-loge.
The way they all knew him, cold, arrogant, boastful… Lucius Malfoy wasn't like that anymore.
Not today, at least. Lucius stumbled with every second step because he wasn't able to avert his fear-widened eyes from his former master so he'd almost forgot his feet. The dull rumble of his heavy step was always followed from faster, scurried , drumbeats when he stumbled.
The witness stand stood beside the judge-loge so Lucius would have to face Voldemort while testifying. Thanks to the whisper-charm who caused a dimmed silence in the room, Lucius Malfoys gasping breath sounded like the rattle of a dementor. Undoubtedly Lucius´d preferred the dementor, the way he looked now.
The assumption was all too right, that surprisingly all witnesses would have went on a holiday if they'd known who they would have to testify against. No one were appeared.
The corners of Lucius mouth trembled. Over and over again his eyes hushed from Voldemort to the door, then back to Voldemort, again over to the door…seemed to consider whether he had a change to escape if the Accused attacked him. But since he sat on the left side of the room and the door was on the right, he might had a bad hand.
Yet, Voldemort was, as it seemed , sufficiently guarded. So the former death-eater sat resigned down on his chair, slumped down so he'd looked only half as tall as before. Lucius coughed, fiddled nervously around with his suit and pressed himself against the back of his chair.
„Mr. Malfoy. Do you see the man whose known as Lord Voldemort in this room? If yes, please point at him with your finger." The accuser continued .
Lucious, his eyes lowered to the floor, pointed with his outstretched, trembling arm into the captives direction. Pulled it back so fast, as if something had burnt him. Completely possible that he had real pains, Hermione thought. She wouldn't put it past on Voldemort to punish Malfoy.
"Good morning, Lucius. So, you want to betray me?" echoed the accuseds cold, clear voice from the walls of the hall. Voldemorts nearly lipless mouth seemed to take the breadth of a bottom plate as it deformed to a scornful grin. The rest eye-brows arched, Voldemort licked his teeth and nodded to his former follower.
Lucius winced as if being stabbed by something sharp, lifted his shoulders as if he'd tried to hide his head between them and threw pleading glanced to the judge-loge. Maybe he hoped that Shackelbolt could sent him home when noticing this "threat".
"My Lord. I… I would nether…I had to….you know that…" Lucius stammered fearful, who'd now thrown even the rest of his dignity to the wind.
Voldemort threw back his head and laughed out. Even though it hadn't been particularly loud, the noise pervaded the whole hall so that even the walls seemed to sneer at Lucius.
A dull blow from a hammer ended the ghostly tone. "Mr. Malfoy you have to call the accused Mr. Riddle. The court forbids you subject to the imposition of sanctions the use any of the titles the accused has circulated. Did you understand?" Kingsley Shackelbolts voice was loud and severe, he wasn't willing to let the whole thing get out of his hand.
Lucius shrunk, if possible, even more in his seat. His eyes rushed from the accused whose mouth seemed to form the words „Lucius, Lucius" up to the Judge-loge where Shackelbolt frowned at him. He nodded obedient and lowered his eyes.
This short moment, as the witness and the judge looked to each other, made one sense who great Lucius fear was of going to Azkaban. But this meant otherwise, and Hermione couldn't help agreeing with him, that Lucius´fear of Shackelbolt was greater than his fear of his former Master who seemed to be defeated in his eyes.
Shackeltbolt thundered again with the hammer on the desk, raised this threatening like a wand and pointed at the accused to set clear limits. "And you Mr. Riddle, you have to remain silent till you're asked something. You don't have the right to chime in or to threat the witnesses in order to intimidate them. Believe me, we have ways to make the rest even more unpleasing to you." A short meaningful pause gave the unmoved smirking accused, the shivering Hermione and the gleeful audience time to think about what Shackelbolt could have meant as he said "the rest" and "more unpleasing."
Shackelbolt thundered several times with his heavy hammer on the desk. "You'll have to opportunity to comment on this accusations after Mr. Malfoys testimony. Till then, keep silent."
Sneering, scornful and cold was the smile, the Judge got as an answer and made Shackelbolt like a defiant toddler.
But, at least, he was quiet and listened, with pleasure, to Lucius testimony. And Lucius told. Told about the massmurders of muggles his lord as ordered his followers to commit. Told about the murder of Rufus Scrimgeour. Told about the punishments Lord Voldemort administered if one of the death-eaters made a mistake. Of course he also told about the night as the death-eaters broke into the Department of Mysteries, about the battle at Hogwarts and what horrors Voldemort spread in the rest of the world.
Voldemort himself gave Lucius a patronizing smile and commented this testimony with: "Actually, Lucius should be grateful for getting so many tasks. Doesn't it border on the miraculous that such a failure has survived his own stupidity."
Thereafter the blonde ex-death-eater, obviously relieved for being still alive, was allowed to leave the stand. Other witnesses already waited, or better, were forced to wait, to testify against the one who must not be named.
Draco, if possible, appeared even more troubled and scared as his father as he followed him to be in the stand. Undoubtedly became clear to him about which mutual acquaintances Hermione had talked about as they met the last time.
No matter how big Hermiones averseness to Draco Malfoy was, today she truly felt sorry for him as she saw him pointing with his thin, outstretched finger at the accused who stalked him like a hungry predator.
Halting, deathly pale and with tears in the eyes he reported, that Lord Voldemort had threaded to kill his family if he wouldn't try to kill Dumbledore. Ashamed he continued, that the Dark Lord ordered the same task to Severus Snape because he didn't believe Draco would be able to accomplish his task. So Dracos dead was planned to punish Lucius for his mistakes. But Draco survived Dumbledores dead and so Voldemort abused him as a instrument of torture.
The poor young man must have been going through horrible times. Full of contempt to himself he told how he tantalized, maybe killed, other people in the name of his master. And Draco had to talk about all this in order to proof that he did all these crimes against his will. Yes, Hermione felt sorry for Draco and contempted the accused. But her heart didn't want to believe what her ears have heard.
The accused himself, Lord Voldement, commented the crimes on and trough Draco with as well as his planned dead as a punishment for Lucius with a laconic: "Well, the boy hat to be useful for something, at least."
Can't anyone go to him to shut this nutter up, Hermione pleaded inwardly.
Only well known victims and follower had to speak… but who in the whole world wouldn't have to blame him for something? Where was certainly no family to which he hadn't done something. No families he hadn't threatened, destroyed or tantalized in either way. Some witnesses from other countries also reported about terrible things. After his return on the graveyard he'd obviously extended his international efforts.
From all corners of the world witches and wizards were buried out which tried to trump each other with her horror-stories. Actually one could have laughed about the obvious zeal of the people to show that they'd won the competition of having experienced the worst thing in the whole world. They tried so hard to embellish their stories with baneful adjectives.
But no one laughed of course and Hermione didn't either, instead she could barley restrain her tears because all was true.
Yes, he'd killed other people as he was a student. Used his first job in order to rob and murder rich people who just wanted to protect valuable objects and had always blamed other people for his misdoings. All the reports of his young days, as he traveled through the world and hired so many death-eaters as possible…. as he tortured haphazardly victims just to demonstrate his power…. It was true.
And of course he'd planned and started a ethnic cleansing on muggles and mudbloods. He also soucht for the most wicked doings he could use to make his horcruxes.
He got more and more powerful after his return till he reigned the whole country as a shadow minister last year and did things which were so terrible, what Hermione had to do out of the room to take a breathe of fresh air because she couldn't stand the bitter truth anymore. Even she didn't hear it she knew, what he'd also planned to extend his power over the whole world. The mad dream of every megalomaniac…
His cruelty didn't stop at his followers. The reports on what he'd done to his "friends", or better "servant" were just terrible and drew a picture from a human being who didn't deserve this term anymore.
Hermione sat crying in the courtroom. Her throat hurt, was choked from an invisible hand, iron-chains around her chest, and her head ached, she felt sick and now matter how she'd tried to hold herself back, she couldn't stop crying. The tears run and run like a river, which didn't want drying up.
Ron shoved himself as far away as possible and did his very best to ignore her.
The hearing was carried out in overlength. It started at 8o´clock in the morning and would take till 10 o'clock at night. Hermione was surrounded by sobbing and crying. People around her were on the verge of breaking down with every new story they heard.
Even the usually cynic, poised Rita Skeeter sat silently whimpering in her corner, swayed herself back and forth and tried not looking to the back clothed man in front of her.
But from time to time the reporters eyes wandered into her direction, as all the other eyes in the room did. But winced, every time the accused did the slighted movement.
All witnesses who did so great efforts to report something terrible, all spoke very softly and Shackelbolt told them over and over again to speak louder. Perhaps they were afraid of getting punished if the Dark Lord identified them. Looked as if they really thought Lord Voldemort could kill with his thoughts. Somehow Hermione wasn't sure if he was able to do this too.
Hermione wished so hard to go to the dock to batter the accused.
Anger flamed up in her, no, she was cooking hot with anger, humiliation and disappointment about this chess-game. He behaved simply terrible. Anyhow, he behaved like usual, or should she better say…like before?
Aberforth Dumbledore was one of the last fit to be questioned member of the phoenix order. He told about Voldemorts first powerful time. Things, his brother had told him or he'd seen himself. About abductions, tortures of numerous people and about wizards and witched who'd simply disappeared. But he also told about the Longbottoms who'd fought against the accused several times.
Aberforth was no well-educated man, some sentences were hard for him. Often he had to pause to formulate his answers. Voldemort sat during this stops fidgety in his seat, scurried bored and impatiently with his fingers and took a deep breath to show he irritated he was by Aberforth´s slowness. Aberforth, who had the accused in his field of view, got more and more nervous. Halted often that raised a malicious smile in the Lords face.
Even though the voices of the audience were dimmed, one heard Augusta Longbottoms silent whimpering as Aberforth reported about the last fight and the torture of her son and his wife, done by Bellatrix Lestrange. The accused seemed to have good ears, because he burst out in laughter as he heard a very heart-breaking sob.
Of course he was reproved, but what was it good for? He should die in a few days. What could they else do to him? So he continued with following the testimonies either bored or amused. And he beamed with pride, every time he heard particularly cruel doings.
What was the success of Hermiones therapy-efforts?
He even corrected his meanwhile rather aged former employers Burgin und Borkes as they told about his doings during his time in their store. Added some curses he did to get some of the valuable magical objects they had in their store.
But he wasn't able to remember a lot of things. As the auror told about some assaults that costed hundreds of muggle lives, he just shrugged, arched, as it seemed, stumped his eye-brows and sighed bored and commented relaxed. It's probably true. I don't know it exactly. Write it down, I'm not able to remember everything."
He talked big as if was asked for his reasons and plans. Full of proud and fervency he declared all his doings as justified.
Intelligent and rhetorical gifted as he was, he made even haphazardly massmurders sounding like political necessary chess moves. It was awful.
Hermione ached to go to him, shake, kick and batter. He'd insulated her personally as he forthright characterized muggles and mudbloods as intellectually challenged animals.
How clearer could he show that he was so far way from remorse like Aberforth from the Nobel prize.
And Hermione felt terrible ashamed because Ron and her other friends saw how useless her attempts had been to make him remorseful. He and remorse? Risible… So risible that the accused couldn't stop chuckling while Rubeus Hagrid talked.
What had she reached? Nothing…
But unfortunately, something had changed. The young Gryffindor couldn't help admitting that this all hadn't been so terrible if her feeling for him hadn't changed. Maybe Ron was right with his mute accusing frowns, he gave her over and over again during the last months.
Maybe she really felt something for her prisoner.
The man who sat on the stage and declared with utter conviction that Albus Dumbledore had been and old fool because he employed Creatures, no, he didn't call them humans, like Hagrid or Lupin in his school.
He called Hagrid, who testified to wash himself clear from the murder of the moaning Myrte, a mentally retarded half-giant. The chatted so cheerily that he almost looked drunk.
Drunk?
If his strange cheery mood was an result of calmatives or other drugs? Drugs he needed because it was just two weeks ago that he'd lain crying in Hermione's lap like an infant. Because he'd suffered from paranoia and became a nervous wreck. A wreck who now declared totally calm but well articulated that the elimination used for the benefit of the magical society?
Maybe the aurors did an overkill to avoid further panicle fits during the trial so they drugged him to the eyeballs. His eyes were really looking a bit glassy as he greeted her…
He'd presumably also got veritaserum. So unhesitating he admitted everything.
Hopefully he's high, Hermione begged mutely and not really just proud of his atrocities.
Yes, certainly. He'd changed in some ways. Primarily in his behavior to her, the mudblood. Although he'd never talked about this, she KNEW he liked her. She felt his affection for her. Especially during the last time before his psychological downfall. She FELT he liked her as much as it was possible to him. At least… she hoped so. And…remembering the time he held on to her… It broke the young woman's hearth then she thought back to this unhappy creature.
And now…now he sat there and explained how he'd instructed his death-eaters to murders and abductions. His head jerked into towards Lucius Malfoy pleasurably, where he heard an appalled gasp. Referred derisive to Lucius as he was asked to describe the tortures. They should ask Lucius, not him, because Lucius had proofed himself, at least, as a deeply skilled torturer.
Yet she decided to go to him after the trial. No matter what… Hermione wanted to be with him till…and it was impossible to her fooling herself. The sentence wouldn't change. The kind his behavior was like today… who else in the whole world wouldn't want to see him dead?
SHE! Hermione. She didn't want it but wishing this, she was alone in the world.
He gave the appearance as if he'd never enjoyed himself so much as today. Like a child who was happy about hearing a bed-time story he listened while the witnesses spoke about his cruelties.
Hermione was drenched in tears. Impossible to say, what hurt her the most:
…the fact, that all hated her fosterling?
…that she may would loose her friends and fall out with her family because of him?
.. that she felt deep sympathy with all the people who hated him so much because she knew that they were right?
… that the Dark Lord himself showed nothing but pride or disinterest on the reports of his crimes?
…or the strange kind he touched herself and her grief about having to let him go in a few days?
It was simply so… changeless to hope something else.
Please, she begged, please let him be drugged. This at least. Please don't let him be responsible for his behavior in court.
Ron, who still sat next to her, was pale. Cold hated and disgusted were drawn in his face. Who he execrated the most? Lord Voldemort or his- hopefully not- ex-girlfriend.
About 8 o'clock in the evening Harry and Ron wanted to home. It was just another break. 105min hearings, then a 15min pause. This was one oh them. Harry had just come into the room to tell Ron that he was allowed to go because he wouldn't have to testify today.
Ron nodded silently and arose. She didn't ask Hermione to go with them, but she did so. Ron and Harry and Ron went ahead with stony miens, the unhappy Hermione slouchy and with lowered head walked behind them.
They took Voldemort out of the hall during the breaks. Where? She didn't know it. Hermione's eyes rushed over the crown while they fought themselves through all this jostling people. Outside the court the whisper-charm didn't work so it was terrible loud. Screams, agitated conversations, yells, victory whoops and saddened sobs prevailed the floor.
She also saw Helen. But this was the person Hermione wanted the meet at least of all. Fast, before Helen had seen her, she jostled forwards and followed the two young men.
They had to wait over 15minutes till they caught an elevator. Too many people jostled into and out them. As they finally made it Hermione's companions still did as if they didn't know her. They didn't know her either, as they walked through the entrance hall to get a chimney to the burrow. The entrance-hall was terrible cramped so Hermione grasped Ron's robe in order for not getting lost.
Magical boosted voices pervaded the entrance hall and reported every detail of Voldemorts temporary – they really called it so – survival. Larger-than-life pictures were thrown at the walls. Pictures of him. Red-flaming eyes wherever one looked.
So the young Girl decided to close her eyes and stumbled behind the two young man. The one hand clutched on Ron's robe, the other hand clutched Harry's Shirt. Two men who did as if she was invisible. Even as they finally made to get a chimney they deigned to look at her.
What would wait for her in the burrow? What did her parents know about Voldemort? Would they understand her? And the Weasleys? told his family certainly everything he know about Hermione's job. Besides… Ron would do so too. And she'd seen his reaction.
Hermione was unutterable alone as she entered the crowded burrow.
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