Chapter 15:
The trial:
The first time Harry had seen the courtroom it had been in Dumbledore's memories, which the old wizard had deposed in his pensive. Back then, the round dark room, which reminded one so strongly of a middle age arena had already seemed less than inviting.
Entering the big room right now, he felt nearly struck down by it's cold and oppressing atmosphere. As soon as he stepped through the door arch with the other spectators, he felt a weird uneasiness inside of him. Almost as if a teacher would be observing him over his shoulder during an especially difficult test.
He had come into the room by the very same entrance through which, in Dumbledore's memory, the defendant had entered and he found himself now standing in the centre of the circular inner platform.
Barely a meter in front of him stood the simple wooden chair with chains, on which Snape would be bound upon. In front of it towered, on high rows, the tables and chairs of the jurors and officials, while the rest of the circular wall was occupied by simple wooden banks, built in a stair-like order.
Continually, more and more wizards filed in on those platforms from different entrances. Some of them were easily recognisable as ministry workers. They wore official looking robes, which to a degree reminded Harry in colour and appearance of uncle Vernon's business suits, even though they were clearly not muggle clothes. Others among the entering wizards and witches looked like common peasants and Harry was certain that there would be quite a number of aurors among them, who would be anxious to witness the undoing of another death eater.
It had continuingly gotten more difficult to find Voldemort's followers and messages of success were rare, while the news of murders and cruelties against wizards and muggles alike were becoming more numerous.
A flash of light to his left, only noticed out of the corner of his vision, let him turn his head. An indecently big diamond on a ring had broken the light of a torch, blazing it across the room.
Harry recognized the wearer of the ring immediately. It was no other than Lucius Malfoy, who was sitting in the lowest row, on the same height as the defendant's chair, the Malfoy Patriarch's face overbearingly neutral. Although the man was already sitting, he made the other people around him look small and unimportant. He himself was like a bright gem in the middle of dark pellets, but Harry knew that this impression was misleading. Lucius Malfoy was as mean as he was noble and good-looking. In his second year, the man would have nearly, and without a whim, cursed him, had not Dobby stepped between them, stopping his former master.
The white-blond man chose this moment to turn his head, looking straight at Harry. The only change in his face was a barely lifted eyebrow and a slight tilting back of his head, so that his look appeared even more arrogant.
"This way, Harry," Ron's voice pulled him away from Malfoy's glance.
Harry followed his friend with his eyes, as the redhead trailed McGonagall, Dumbledore and Hermione to take a seat in the lowest row at the back of the room. Dumbledore looked terribly sad but also pretty angry as he sat down.
Harry guiltily bit his lower lip. The sadness had its origin at the trial and Snape's immediate prosecution, but the anger was all his doing, he knew that. He had blackmailed the Headmaster and McGonagall into taking him along so that he would not testify against Snape. He felt bad about what he had done to Dumbledore with that betrayal, but he had been completely convinced about carrying out his threat. Even now, he had to hold back not to break his promise and testify anyhow. Snape had to be punished.
"Everybody please take their seats now. The defendant will be arriving in a few minutes." The voice of the court secretary, cold and impersonal, echoed from the arched walls, giving this room an even clammier atmosphere.
Harry shuddered. There were no dementors here right now, yet the room itself was giving out almost those same essence-sucking vibes, especially in the middle of the arena, where one was helplessly at the mercy to the scrutiny of every person present. This feeling must be even more overwhelming, being tied up on that chair. Harry just hoped that he would never find himself in this situation.
He stepped through the gap in the lower railing, onto the row of banks, taking a seat between Ron and Hermione. The tension emanating from McGonagall and Dumbledore to his right was almost tangible and Harry wasn't sure how much of that tension was the result of the trial, and how much of it was down to his blackmail. At least he could count on Ron and Hermione's unquestioning support. Dumbledore had only yielded to his blackmail under the condition that the two came along to keep him in check. The Headmaster had told him that he would be occupied enough with the trial to keep an eye on him too, and he had with that done a great job stirring his conscience. But yet again, the promise he had made besides Sirius' coffin weighted more to him, to see that his murderer would get his punishment. He would later apologize to the Headmaster but this was something he had to do, even if Dumbledore would not understand.
With an inward sigh, he turned his attention back to the chair, which was now standing lonely in the centre of the room and felt again anger rise in him. Snape had coming to him all that he deserved.
He let his gaze roam over the crowd on the benches. Malfoy was still sitting self-confidently at his place, both hands resting on the knob of his ever-present walking stick. On the opposite side, just to the left of the jury's tables sat an anticipating looking Rita Skeeter, a piece of parchment in one hand and her magical quill, which she was swirling in between her fingers at the moment, in the other. Harry was still convinced that it had been a mistake of Hermione to free this impossible person from her imprisonment, but the time that she had spend in Hermione's jar had surely impressed her enough to watch out what she would be writing about Harry and his friends in the future.
Movement in a dark spot of the upper row, right besides one of the upper entrances, caught his attention. Up there, hiding halfway in the shadows stood a man with a worn down robe. Remus had told them that he would be present at the trial but would not be sitting with them. The former teacher had not told them why that was so, but Harry could perfectly imagine the reason. No one liked to socialize or even be seen with a Werewolf. Remus could consider himself lucky already that he was allowed in an official building.
Again, Harry looked over to the simple chair. Snape – again Snape. This man brought Harry and the people he cared about almost as much harm and sorrow than Voldemort himself.
Another side door opened and a few official looking wizards and witches strode in, taking their seats behind on the places reserved for the jurors. Cornelius Fudge walked in too and sat with a stern face behind the slightly elevated desk opposite the single chair.
The discussions in the room died out and everyone was looking expectantly at the minister. That Fudge himself was leading the prosecution showed how serious the ministry was taking this case. Maybe for once Rita Skeeter had been writing the truth and this whole trial was nothing more than an act to show Voldemort that there would be no soft treatment of his men.
"Bring the defendant in!" Fudge called out.
The same door through which Harry had entered a few minutes ago opened again and a soul-eating chill filled the room, snaking its roots deep into Harry's bones. He had been expecting this though and quickly popped a piece of chocolate into his mouth. Still he was not able to completely chase the chill and the terrible pictures, which were running by in front of his inner eye. Like in a muggle film, he saw how Cedric's open, dead eyes were staring at him, observed how a green flash of magic from Snape's wand hit Sirius. All this set to the sound of his parent's screaming when they were killed.
He did his best to ignore the pictures and the screams.
"It's only the dementor's doing. It will be gone, once they are out again," he whispered to himself so silently, that no one else could hear him.
As on command, a tall creature, wrapped in an all consuming black robe, glided into the room, followed by two others, leading an exhausted looking Snape into the room. A last Dementor made the end of the small procession.
Snape looked awful, Harry thought. The Potions Master only just seemed to hold himself upright, as if his whole strength would have been stripped from him. His skin looked gaunt and spanned tightly over sharp cheekbones. The usual arrogant, piercing eyes were dulled and haunted and a deep line of stress had built on his sweaty forehead. There was nothing left of his former proud demeanour and he looked like a mere shadow of a human being.
"Merlin, Severus," Dumbledore groaned pained.
Hermione bent over to Harry, whispering behind her hand: "I've never heard of four dementors used in guarding one single prisoner. It really looks like they are going to use Professor Snape as an example."
Snape was not putting up any resistance as the dementors, who did more mainstay than lead him, sat him upon the chair. The way the man looked right now he would probably not be able to put up any resistance. The two dementors even had to hold his too weak arms in place on the arm rests, where the chains instantly glowed golden, snaking themselves around the prisoner's forearms and lower legs, tying them effectively to the chair. Snape's head limply hung forward and only after the dementors had left the room did he lift it with a great effort, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a shudder that ran through him.
"Severus Snape. You have been charged with using one of the three Unforgivable curses against another wizard, leading to the death of said wizard. Is there anything you wish to say to defend yourself?"
Snape took a shuddering breath, directing his gaze at Fudge. He blinked twice and even managed to straighten his back and shoulders.
"I did not kill a fellow wizard," he whispered hoarsely, "only Sirius Black. He was scum and certainly not something deserving to be revered at as a human being. With my act I have done a favour to the Ministry for which I should not be sitting here."
Harry balled his fists and a low growl escaped his lips as he tried to hold back his anger at this despiteful man.
"Harry," Hermione warned instantly. "I have promised the Headmaster that you will behave and I plan in keeping my promise, even if I have to bind you to the chair."
"Chill out, 'Mione," Harry hissed angrily. "I am not going to do attack him here." Instead he glared with loathing at Snape's back, willing to kill him by the strength of his stare. And the imagination how he would be individually ripping out Snape's finger and toenails with a knife did wonders to calm his frenzying nerves and boiling anger.
"This is correct," Fudge commented Snape's words. "The ministry has been trying to get hold of Sirius Black for a long time, yet this doesn't excuse the use of an Unforgivable curse. If we allow free use of those curses and throw them around at every opportunity possible, then we're not any better than the one-who-shall-not-be-named. Which brings us to the next point of this peculiar situation. It is known to us that you have been an active death eater once and only Albus Dumbledore's vouch has kept you out of Azkaban back then. Yet you have been presented with several conditions, some of them being that you shall remain under constant supervision by Professor Dumbledore and above all, never use one of the unforgivable curses. You have been warned that any offence to those conditions would bring you to Azkaban and in case of the Unfvorgivables you'd be getting the immediate kiss."
A surprised murmur rolled over the crowd. Agreeing voices were to be heard, as well as outraged ones. The sentence of the kiss was still pretty controversial, even though the agreeing voices were more numerous now. Harry smiled in satisfaction. No matter if Snape survived this day or would be losing his soul, his name would forever be soiled with the courtesy of Rita Skeeter. He looked over to the reporter, whose magical quill flew incessantly over the parchment, her eyes darting from Fudge to Snape's face.
Snape shifted slightly in his chair and Harry observed with worry how well the Potions Master seemed able to move in those chains. No matter how helpless the teacher looked at the moment and to what point Harry loathed him, Snape had always injected a small dose of fear in him. Especially after he had witnessed the man commit cold-blooded murder, laughing about it afterwards.
Hermione seemed to read his worries and again she bent over. "The chains are magically enhanced. There is no way he will get out by himself."
"Let's hope so," Ron said from his other side. "This is how I like him best. Tied up like roast meat."
Dumbledore had either not heard their discussion or he chose to simply ignore it. He just rose from his chair, his glance going from Snape to Fudge. "I would like to have a word concerning this affair, if you would allow."
Fudge regarded the old Headmaster for a moment with clear suspicion. He didn't look happy at all that Dumbledore got involved in Snapes' trial. As if he feared for Dumbledore to vouch again for the Potions Master or clear him otherwise, which would result in getting the man get away unpunished – again. Another sign for the assumption that the outcome of the sentence had been decided upon, long before the actual trial ever happened.
"You've got one minute, Dumbledore," he finally relented.
The Headmaster gave a short nod of thanks and let his inquiring glance move slowly over the jurors, before fixing it upon Fudge again.
"I have vouched for Severus Snape some years ago, because he had then supplied the ministry and myself with important information about Lord Voldemort." A collective gasp went through the crowd at the careless mention of the name. Dumbledore didn't even flinch at their reaction though and continued unwavering. "This information has saved many lives. I do not support him in any way concerning the matter for which we are here today, but we shouldn't overlook the special circumstances involved and speak the verdict in regard of those. I am asking of the jurors to take into account the whole picture and not only the use of the Unforgivable curse."
Harry almost toppled off his chair as he understood Dumbledore's words.
"Forget it, mate," Ron warned, while he and Hermione held their hands on his arms in a silent reminder to stay down. "You can talk to the Headmaster after the trial."
"Professor Dumbledore has surely realised too, that this trial is nothing but a farce. You can't fault him for trying to keep Snape from the kiss," Hermione argued too. But Harry didn't have to worry, for it was Snape himself who destroyed all attempts Dumbledore made by laughing out loud and hoarsely. The man in the chair in front of them turned his head slightly, not being able to look at them directly.
"Are you trying to save my neck now, Dumbledore? How overly Gryffindor of you. Unfortunately, I wouldn't be here at all without your generous help, now would I? Black was like a pest in my life and the life of every decent wizard he met, and I have only erased this pest. No matter what sentence I will be receiving, it was worth it and I would without any hesitation again use an Unforgivable against anyone who is only getting on my nerves and standing in other people way."
Harry was decidedly shocked. And he was not alone. The whole room had grown so quiet that not even the fall of a needle would have gone unnoticed. The people sitting in the room seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, hearing this open threat.
"Severus!" Dumbledore finally called out, a sharp warning in his tone.
"Mister Snape," Fudge thundered now. "Are you aware of what you just said? You would again use an Unforgivable curse to get rid of people standing in your way?"
Snape only looked at him as if he would be thinking real hard about something for a split second, and when he spoke again his voice had once more become a hoarse whisper. His amusement and excitement from before had disappeared as if someone had switched off the light. "No, Sir. I only wanted to protect the students. Wasn't this you wished for? To get hold of Sirius Black, dead or alive?" His voice was slightly wavering, like the one of a child that had been scolded for something it didn't understand.
Fudge just gaped at Snape at that. Only one minute ago, Snape had truly spit venom and now he was again the haunted, intimidated shadow of a man that had entered the courtyard, supported by two dementors. When the Minister became aware of the prolonged silence, he cleared his throat loudly. He bent forward and looked intently at Snape, as if he was searching for something in the other's eyes. Finally, as if he had found confirmation in Snape's face, he straightened up again with a furious gleam in his eyes.
"Mr. Snape. I think there is no use in continuing this questioning. We have heard and seen all that is necessary to determine the sentence." He addressed the audience. "The jurors and I will be going to discuss the verdict now. Since the dementors will be guarding the prisoner, making it quite uncomfortable here, I suggest that you go to the welcoming lounge where refreshments will be served. The court secretary will let you know when we have come to a verdict."
Harry had listened to Fudge, but his eyes had rested on Snape for the whole time. The Potions Master had sacked in on himself again and at the mention of the dementors, a violent shudder had run through his body.
T.B.C.
BIG THANKS AGAIN TO MY GREAT BETA SLYTHERIN SILVER SNAKE!