Ch. 55 - Comfort and Joy

"It's going to go well," Remus murmured from the doorway, his hands tucked away in his pockets.

Remus had picked up on the fact that Emmeline was stalling, not wanting to get dressed. She'd hardly said a word during breakfast, and had been staring far too intently into her porridge. Now, still in her pajamas, she peered up at him apprehensively from the edge of the bed.

"So many of them have been let go. Too many of them."

"Yes, well…I don't believe Mulciber can come to their rescue, not this time."

Even before Mulciber was captured, nearly every death eater that appeared before the Council of Magical Law pleaded not guilty. They claimed they'd all been put under the imperius curse, courtesy of the aforementioned. It was known to the Ministry that Mulciber was the death eaters' expert on this particular unforgivable curse, but there was no way to prove just how extensively it had been used within Voldemort's ranks. Of course, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, and even Crouch knew the purported population of unwitting, cursed accomplices to be vastly exaggerated; but the rest of the council was neither prepared, nor, it seemed, incredibly motivated to prove every defendant wrong. Voldemort was gone. Everyone else was ready to move on and get back to normal. Mad-Eye and Dumbledore had tried to warn the Ministry that this was not a solution to the problem - that this tactic did not rehabilitate the offenders or give them any incentive to change their ways. All it did was delay a time when they'd inevitably become a problem again. And Emmeline had never met a pureblood supremacist who had a change of heart.

Some of the major players - Travers, Dolohov, a few others - had been sentenced, yes; but too many death eaters had been set free or been put under a cushy house arrest in their countryside manors. Even Snape - Emmeline found out a few weeks back - had struck some sort of bargain with Dumbledore and was free, too. How Dumbledore saw fit to do such a thing, she'd never know.

All she knew was too many of them had been let go.

"It will go well," Remus said again, this time more softly. Encouraging.

"I don't know what I'll do if Bellatrix and her brood are allowed to walk out of there."

She'd been working on quelling the blood thirst, and tried to quiet the voice in her mind that finished the thought; the one that told her: "you could hunt them all down yourself and make them pay, and do it slowly, and oh wouldn't that be delicious…"

No, that wasn't proper justice. But neither was whatever the buffoons in the Council were settling for.

Anyway, she was trying.

She got up off the bed and trudged to the wardrobe, if only to distract herself from her own mind. Trousers, blouse, Ministry cloak. Socks and shoes next. She turned away while she changed. Remus averted his gaze.

"I wish you could be there with me," she mentioned wistfully, pulling on one shoe, then the other. "Not that it'll be a cheerful affair by any stretch of the imagination, but it'd be nice to have you there…"

"I'd be there if I could," he lied. Even if the trials were open to the general public, even if he did want to offer support, and even if he did want to see a triumph for the Longbottoms, he didn't have any intention of going near the Ministry. He knew he'd feel both overly exposed, and wildly out of place.

He'd been working on being more present, even if it hurt. Even if he had to pretend he wasn't jealous when Emmeline came home after work and told him about her day. Things had been better, even if he didn't feel much better.

Even if he didn't know if he'd ever feel better again.

Anyway, he was trying.

"I imagine today will be especially unpleasant for Crouch, regardless of which way it swings," he remarked, changing the subject.

Emmeline flung her cloak around her shoulders. "It's all anybody at the Ministry can talk about."

"How does he seem? Is he torn up about it?"

"I think he's more concerned with his chances for the Minister's office now. A death eater for a son doesn't bode well politically."

Remus scoffed humorlessly. Harsh, but not surprising knowing Crouch. "That must've made for a jolly Christmas."

It was the first time either of them had brought the season up. Two days ago, Christmas had come and gone in their flat without so much as a pudding. They were agonizingly aware of the fact that holidays would never be the same; each one that passed was just one more that their friends wouldn't get, and they just couldn't bring themselves to celebrate leaving them behind in that way. They were both silently dreading the new year.

Emmeline was finally dressed and ready, and had no further excuse to linger. She looked up at Remus with eyes full of dread. "I'm so nervous the Council will find a way to muck this up like the other trials."

Remus sighed. "This time, things will be different. They have to be."

Emmeline feigned optimism. "...Maybe they will be."

…

"Hold the door, please!" Emmeline shouted, weaving through the crowd of confused looks from people in the Atrium as she ran.

A kindly attendant in a Magical Maintenance robe held his hand out so that Emmeline could dash into the lift.

"Thank you," she panted as the golden grille closed. She'd stalled for too long at home.

"Where to?" asked the attendant, as if he didn't know where everyone was going that day.

Grabbing on to one of the ropes from the ceiling, she peered up at her watch. "Level ten, please." The others in the compartment were headed to the same destination, hoping to catch a glimpse of the spectacle.

They whizzed down two floors, jolted hard to the right, flew backwards, rotated, then halted. "Level Ten," declared the automated voice.

Ending up last in the lift proved serendipitous, as it meant that Emmeline could scurry out ahead of the crowd. She darted down the hallway, zigzagging impatiently through the throng of witches and wizards hoping to get a seat in the trial. When she hit Courtroom Ten, she flashed her Department I.D. at the witch in the doorway and veered inside, searching for her saved seat among the rows of benches…

The courtroom was a large square chamber constructed of cold, black stone, dimly lit by flame torches; not the cheeriest backdrop. The walls were lined with rows and rows of benches for officials and press alike. While Crouch was seated in the high benches at the front, the jury sat along the right side of the room. The courtroom only held about two hundred people, though Emmeline suspected more were trying to get a peek at the action. Four empty chairs stood ominously in the center of the floor, with shackles poised to ensnare their captives where they sat.

Too many had made it out of the shackles.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mad-Eye flag her down unceremoniously before tapping a spot on the bench next to him. Of course he was sitting on one of the highest benches in the front of the courtroom. Emmeline's legs protested as she plodded up the rows.

She spotted Kingsley in one of the lower benches, as he was set to testify in a few minutes. Emmeline called out to him as she scooted into his row. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel alright. Don't think good is the right word…but alright."

She mustered a supportive smile. "You'll be great."

"Thanks…You nervous?"

"Completely."

"Me too. I wish I could say it was unwarranted, but I never know which direction the jury will swing. Everyone was pretty scandalized by the whole thing; then again, some think Crouch is coming down too hard on his son…"

Emmeline had heard the rumors. A significant portion of the gossipers speculated whether or not Barty Crouch Jr. had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and if his father was perhaps being too draconian. "You and I both saw him in that mask," she whispered. "We caught them all in the act."

"And that's what I'm going to tell them."

"Good luck." She patted his shoulder, then continued her trek up to Alastor.

"Thanks, Vance."

"Please take your seats so we may begin the proceedings," Crouch announced curtly, holding his wand to his throat. The attendants at the door began to shoo seatless spectators away.

"What did I say?" Alastor grumbled when Emmeline finally plopped down next to him.

"I know, I know, I was to get here early. I got distracted." As Emmeline scanned the faces in the chamber, a beady eyed man glowering at her from the opposite end of the room caught her gaze. It was the parasitic reporter from St. Mungo's.

"I don't just say these things willy-nilly, you know. I knew it was gonnae be a madhouse."

"I've never seen this many people trying to get in before." Emmeline had continued her scan of the room, spotting Dumbledore sitting a bit closer to Crouch's left, and a fragile-looking witch with a hankie in her hands to his right.

"Quadruple trials are rare, even rarer when one of the defendants is related to the judge," Alastor quipped.

Emmeline turned to look Alastor in the eye. "Be honest. How do you think this is going to go?"

Without returning her eye contact, Alastor growled: "It had better go well."

Once the doors were shut, the once muttering courtroom settled into an eerie silence.

"All rise for the presiding judge, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of Magical Law!"

…

Now that Emmeline was away at the trial, Remus knelt down next to the bed and slid a large, flat chest out from under it. He unlatched the lid, lifted it, and counted seven bottles of wolfsbane left in the trunk. With a few weeks to go before the first full moon of the new year, he probably should have put in an order for a new shipment earlier. He typically liked to have no less than two months' doses on hand at a time, just in case any of the bottles broke or he spilled any of the potion. It looked as if there was much more than that left in the trunk last he checked, but perhaps he hadn't been paying attention.

He rummaged through a pocket on the inside of the lid and withdrew the leather pouch that James had left with him, opened it...

And was hit with a grim realization.

…

"Father, don't send me back to the dementors-"

Kingsley had testified, as did Rufus Scrimgeour.

"I now ask the jury-"

"Mother, stop him! Mother, I didn't do it, it wasn't me!"

Pictures of Alice and Frank lying expressionless in their hospital cots were passed around the courtroom.

Now that the defendants had been escorted in by dementors, the straw-haired son of Crouch thrashed in his chair pleading for his life. Many in the courtroom looked on in enthralled horror, but neither Mad-Eye nor Emmeline felt even a twinge of sympathy. Emmeline had fuzzy memories of being thrown against the crypt wall thanks to that boy's wand. No; she and Alastor knew that these were not the pleas of a wrongfully accused man; they were the cries of someone desperate not to face consequences.

The only discomfort that Emmeline felt was the knowledge that Crouch Jr. had been two years below her at Hogwarts, and was by all accounts quiet and studious, or so it seemed. It was disturbing to wonder what had been behind those silent eyes all along, and how many other quiet students perhaps shared his dark fascinations.

Starkly contrasting Barty Crouch Jr. were the accomplices who sat beside him. Rodolphus appeared mildly nervous, perhaps having underestimated what effect the dementors would have on him. Rabastan only stared emotionlessly up at Crouch Sr. But Bellatrix sat smugly in that chair as if she ruled hosts and dominions. She was proud. Emmeline rang her hands together.

"I now ask the jury to raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!"

Emmeline held her breath, and grabbed onto Alastor's arm.

And as the Council unanimously raised their hands, she could feel tears streaming down her cheeks.

She leapt to her feet.

The courtroom erupted in vindictive applause.

The boy's screams were like a symphony to her.

As the dementors drew closer and closer to the chairs, Bellatrix decided she wanted the final word. "The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban; He will rise again and come for us-"

"You bitch," Emmeline breathed, starting down towards the floor. Alastor took hold of her shoulders and held her back.

"-he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!"

The courtroom was now in an uproar. Crouch and his son had begun yelling back and forth, but Emmeline's sole focus was Bellatrix. She squirmed under Mad-Eye's grasp. How dare she. How dare she-

"It's over," he barked, gently shaking her. He forced her shoulders in his direction so that they were face-to-face. And then, softer and more tenderly said: "We got 'em." Emmeline looked from his glass eye to his other eye as the very corner of his mouth turned up into an out-of-character smile. "We got 'em," he said again.

"...We got 'em," she whispered back, nodding her head.

She threw her arms around him.

…

"Name?"

"Emmeline Vance."

"Where to?"

"Level four, please."

After making a stop at her cubicle to send a note to Remus, she'd practically sprinted through the Atrium into one of the floo fireplaces.

Augusta Longbottom stood from her chair at the far end of the ward when Emmeline walked in. "The verdict?" she asked, her voice shaky.

The triumphant expression she was sporting as she approached gave her away before she could even deliver the news. "Every one of them has been sentenced-"

In an instant, Augusta crumpled back into the chair and began weeping softly into her hands.

"-to life in Azkaban."

Next to her were Alice and Frank, now housed in the permanent residents ward of St. Mungo's. Everyone in this part of the hospital wore lilac johnny gowns, and had suffered varying forms of permanent spell damage. Frank sat with his back to Emmeline, and was staring out the window down to the street. Alice was sitting on the floor next to her bed, wrapping a strand of hair around her index finger repeatedly.

"May I…?" Emmeline asked, gesturing to them.

Augusta lifted her head and wiped her tears, nodding.

Emmeline crept towards the beds and sat down on the floor across from Alice. "Hi," she whispered, smiling at her friend.

Frank continued to stare out the window. Alice looked up at her momentarily, but wasn't really looking at her.

"I just…I just wanted to tell you both some news, even if it doesn't-...The people who did this to you are going away for good," Emmeline said quietly, using a gentle voice that she may have used with children. "You'll never have to see them again."

When Alice's focus drifted back to the strand of hair, Emmeline's smile faded.

"It is good news," Augusta began. Emmeline twisted around to look at her. "But it won't bring my son and his wife back…" She didn't appear victorious at all, and her tears hadn't been joyful.

Emmeline's smile now disappeared altogether as she turned back to Alice and Frank. Augusta was right. Even if every death eater went away for life, it wouldn't reverse the damage that had been done. Both of their worlds were irreparably destroyed. Maybe the wounds could be bandaged, but they would never heal.

Just when she thought she finally had something to celebrate…

Still preoccupied with the hair, Alice tottered to her feet and crossed to Augusta, tugging feebly at the emerald green chiffon shawl she wore around her shoulders.

"What is it, dear?" Augusta asked exasperatedly. She'd been attempting to interpret their illogical behaviors for a few weeks now with no progress.

Alice continued tugging at the shawl, so Augusta unclasped it from around her neck and handed it to her. Now that she had what she seemed to want, Alice returned to her spot on the floor, motioned toward Emmeline, and dropped the shawl into her lap.

Both Emmeline and Augusta stared at Alice in disbelief; she just went back to playing with the hair. Emmeline thought she'd start to cry again if she sat in front of her for much longer, so she stood and walked back to Augusta to return the shawl.

But Augusta just pushed it back into her grasp. "Keep it," she entreated. "I never know if they're cognizant of what they do, but if there's a reason she wants you to have it, you should have it. I have others."

Emmeline looked down at the charming little garment, which had seemed so mundane until now. She held it to her chest like a treasure. "Thank you."

Augusta let out a plaintive sigh as she turned back towards Alice and Frank. "It's a terrible thing that's happened, but I am proud of them. So very proud of their bravery."

…

When Emmeline apparated into the kitchen that evening, Remus emerged from the bedroom with his best poker face.

"I got your n-"

Before he could finish, she rushed into his arms to give him a tremendous hug.

Remus froze momentarily before reciprocating the embrace. "I told you it would turn out alright," he said against her head, though his insides were churning.

When Emmeline pulled away, she pressed her forehead against his and took his face in her hands. "It doesn't fix everything that's happened, but it's something."

He was so caught off guard that she was showing him such affection, he couldn't come up with anything to say. They hadn't been like this together in…well, he couldn't remember the last time. His eyes drifted to her lips…

But he leaned back out of her hands. It would be better that they didn't. "Give me your best synopsis of the whole thing," he coaxed, sitting down at the kitchen table.

Carefully laying the shawl over her chair, she sat down opposite him to recount the events of the trial and her visit with the Longbottoms. She simply chalked his bashfulness to discomfort, and to both of them being out of practice with tenderness.