"Pure reason, toppled by sheer melodrama. Your life in a nutshell."
-BBC Sherlock
…
The Case of The Man Who Was Wanted II
…
Saying the courtroom was packed would have been an enormous understatement.
Hermione felt the familiar lurch in her stomach from nerves. She'd done this a many times before, of course, but it still made her nearly gag seeing all those faces looking down. The trial was being held in courtroom 13. Built right after Voldemort's fall, it was the largest courtroom, by far. The seats behind her stretched so high that she could not even make out the top two rows. It was not exactly a public trial, but many people were granted entrance on one pretext or another. The small space at the bottom, where the accused sat, was the only flat expanse in the room. It rather gave Hermione the impression of a stage, in a large amphitheater.
Hermione thought that for some of the wizards and witches who were filing into their seats, this might as well be a theater stage. The seats behind her were completely filled, and there were some photographers, ministry workers, and journalists that were standing in the rows. The lot of them were causing an almighty ruckus, and it was grinding on her concentration.
Before the Wizengamot showed up, they would bring out the accused. The judges never came at the same time. There was too much energy when the person being tried was first shown. Two bulky guards on each side walked Harry into the room from the side chamber. An eruption of noise followed him, as every person in the giant courtroom suddenly wanted to be heard saying something.
Hermione's heart rate picked up a few notches. Harry didn't look like he was ready for a fight. He looked like he wanted to lay down, and let them all have at him. He had a distant sad look to his eyes, like he was resigned to the worst of fates. Hermione tried desperately to catch his eye, but he was staring into the space in front of him, as though hoping it might swallow him up.
The two guards walked him to the chair, and forcefully shoved him into it, though it was doubtful Harry would have resisted. Two chains snaked from under the chair, and bound Harry's hands.
After a few minutes the crowd settled down a little, and the judges arrived. The first was Amos Diggory, as he would be the main judge. After him came Levee, Sweitzholt, Grunspell, and Jukoff. She knew these four. They were some of Minister Diggory's closest workmates. Figures they'd be the first ones out. Three more judges came, the candle light glinting off their deep purple robes. Seven so far, with the Minister making eight. Hermione patiently waited for the rest of the Wizengamot to come. She wondered what was taking them so long.
Diggory, and the other seven had already seated themselves, and were now taking out case files, and leafing through them. Grunspell, a graying man, with a rather large nose, seemed especially interested in the witness list.
But really, where were the other members of the Wizengamot?
Amos Diggory had his mallet, and he knocked on the wooden table before him.
"Order, order please. We'll try to get through this with decorum, if you would all please sit down, and observe silence." Diggory proclaimed.
"Addendum hearing on the Thirteenth of September; the Defendant, Harry James Potter, having further evidence to provide, will contend the Wizengamot's decision, of the Trial of Harry James Potter, on May Tenth, 1999, for using Deadly Force, and Unforgivable Curses." Diggory finished the long title at the top of his parchment. Hermione looked at the empty seats behind Minister Diggory with confusion. Only eight members of the Wizengamot?
"Today, the Wizengamot consists of myself, Amos Diggory, as well as Horsham Levee…" The Minister rattled off the names of the seven people seated in the bench seats near him. Hermione's eyes shot to each face, as the Minister introduced them. "As this is an addendum hearing, we are observing the minimums that have been set in the Wizengamot Refinement act of 1892." Minister Diggory finished.
Hermione's nerves tighten her stomach into a ball. Well, having only eight Wizengamot judges might be really good or really bad. She had no way to tell, as of yet. But it was definitely unusual. She wondered what Diggory was playing at. Clearing her throat, and steeling herself, she rose from her seat to issue the opening statements.
…
There were five men with blazing red hair to Sherlock's left. It did not take his honed and carefully trained deductive powers to know that the five men were all brothers. Ron Weasley was closest to him. He chatted amicably with Sherlock on his right, as well as the red haired man on his left. The next man was introduced to Sherlock as Percy Weasley. Sherlock gave a courteous nod to Percy, and the rest of the brothers, but said little.
After the courtroom was settled down, and the proceedings began, Sherlock began to watch, oblivious to Ron, and his numerous siblings.
He watched Hermione Granger delivering the opening statement. She had prepared well, and Sherlock found himself nodding along as she listened. It was strange that Harry Potter had up till '99 never exhibited such violent tendencies. She also pointed out that a proper Healer's assessment was never carried out on Harry the first go-around, when he would have been strapped to the monstrous chair and barely conscious of this world, being sentenced to life in Azkaban…
Sherlock shook himself. Pay attention, he chided himself, now isn't the time to get all soppy about your wizard having been mistreated.
Hermione concluded her statement with the assurance that upon carefully reviewing every testimony that the defense had prepared, no sane person could find that Harry was guilty.
The flash and bustle from what Sherlock was beginning to realize was the journalist's section was grating on his nerves.
The Wizengamot, part jury, part judge, and part the prosecution, looked between Granger and Harry with interested expressions. A few nodded, and a few remained stoic.
Once Granger finished her statements, the first witness was called.
Ted Lupin had been given special permission from the wizard school to come for the trial. He came up to Granger now, and, unlike Harry, was seated in a quite normal chair.
Hermione led the boy through a series of questions, all pertaining to the night of August 31st/Morning of September 1st.
"...And after the Imperius Curse was lifted, did you start to remember who and why it was cast on you?" Hermione asked.
"Yes. I think it was my grand-uncle, Henry Tonks." Ted replied.
"And do you know your uncle well?" Hermione went on.
"I hadn't known him well until this summer. But my grandmum convinced him to tour me through some of the Ministries' departments, to sort of help me decide on a career once I graduate."
It went on and on, and finally, once Hermione was satisfied with her questions for Ted being satisfactorily answered, she nodded to the Wizengamot and went to the sidelines.
One of the Wizengamot witches, that Sherlock thought might be called Schwartskopf or Sweitzholt, or something to that effect, peered down at Ted. Her dark hair curtained around her steely gray eyes.
"You said 'you thought' it was your grand-uncle Henry Tonks that cast the Imperius. Did you see him cast the curse?" She asked.
"No, I didn't. As I said, I was asleep at the time." Ted answered, a bit defensively.
"So could it have been someone else to cast the curse? Another wizard or witch?"
"Well, I was pretty sure it was him…"
"How were you so sure? You didn't see him. After the Imperius Curse was lifted, only Harry Potter was in the room, yes?"
"I could hear him talking to me!" Ted blurted out, "It was like Mr. Tonks was in my head, telling me to apparate, where to go, how to dodge the Security Guard, all that stuff. It was his voice."
At this, Minister Diggory cut in.
"That is certainly consistent with other accounts of victims of the curse, Agga." The Minister turned to the Wizengamot witch.
"Yes, yes. I don't doubt the boy was under the curse. Yet the one who cast it…" The witch replied.
"Do you think Potter could disguise his presence in the boy's mind as another's?" The Minister asked, with an expression of polite interest.
Sherlock leaned forward in his bench seat. It did seem that the Minister might be partial to their side. Was that good? He supposed it must be.
The witch, Agga Sweitzholt nodded, thinking. "Yes… that does seem unlikely." Then she turned back to Ted. "How well do you know the accused, Mr. Lupin?"
"Uhh… The first time I ever saw him was on August 31st, as I said…" Ted hesitated, looking in turns to Harry and then Hermione.
"But did you ever exchange letters? Has he ever contacted you by other means?" The witch pressed.
Ted looked again at Harry, and then Hermione.
"Um, I don't know, to be honest. I never received any letters signed, 'Harry Potter.' I suppose you'd have to ask him." He finished.
A few more questions followed from other Wizengamot members. Most of them were softballs, and Sherlock relaxed back into his seat.
He noted that the whispering brothers to his left had all quieted considerably. Were they nervous? Was this going well so far, by wizarding standards? Sherlock had no idea, because this 'trial' was unlike anything he might have experienced in the muggle world. For one, they were talking about an entirely separate person, Henry Tonks. Was it legal to try someone in absentia in Wizarding Britain?
Another Wizengamot member, one of the men, leaned forward to ask Ted a question:
"Did you ever see Henry Tonks transform himself?" He asked.
"No." Ted shook his head.
"But you stated that your uncle is a metamorph, like yourself?"
"Yes. I'm fairly confident he was. He told me loads of stuff, tricks and the like, about transforming one self."
"But you never saw him do it?"
It went around and around on this issue for several minutes.
Once the questioning of Ted Lupin had drawn to a close, the boy was dismissed, and Sherlock sat up excited. The next witness would be his contribution to the case. And he had to perform some very uncomfortable social rituals in order to make this witness happen. Begging. He had to beg Mycroft. Even now, Sherlock shuddered.
But the next witness was not called.
It seemed that after Ted Lupin had vacated the witness's chair, the Wizengamot was more than happy to sit back and discuss the boy's statement.
"...obviously, the boy has no idea whether Tonks was a metamorphmagus. Yes, they talked about it, and maybe Tonks was more familiar than most…"
"...we have no record of Tonks being a metamorph, do we? Cressilda, could you check?" One of the judges, Grunspell, leaned over to a young witch that had been hovering near and taking notes. She nodded quickly, and darted out of the courtroom, to 'check' presumably.
"And if he was a metamorph? Why hide it?"
Sherlock ground his teeth. If only they would call the next witness, his witness, they would all find out why Henry Tonks decided to hide the matter of his little talent.
But they still didn't call the witness.
"We'll leave the matter of Mr. Tonks' metamorphmagus abilities as an open question, then." The Minister finished, looking around at his colleagues..
"That's fine Amos, but then there are more items of note to consider." Levee interrupted.
"What else is there?" The Minister asked.
Sherlock groaned. He glanced at his watch nervously. They were taking entirely too long with the boy. Did wizards have a set time for these matters to run their course?
"The matter of the boy's reliability as a witness, him being so young." Levee said.
"I believe the records state that Ted Lupin has turned seventeen, correct? He's of age?"
"Yes, yes, he has turned seventeen, but Amos, considering that he is still a student of Hogwarts, and as such-"
The matter of Ted Lupin's young age ate another precious hour, and Sherlock was fuming by the time the judges wound that particular conversation to a close. Sherlock never before thought that he would be longing for the bureaucratic and archaic system of laws that he was familiar with on the muggle side. Sherlock had been under the impression that muggles were inefficient! Wizards brought a whole new meaning to the word.
"And so we have agreed. Although Ted Lupin is rather young to act as witness on a case as sensitive as this, he is a rather responsible and mature young man, and so we will take his testimony, provided it is noted that the testimony was delivered by a current student of Hogwarts." The Minister finished.
Sherlock perked up. Finally!
"Now, I believe we have all had enough for the day. We will have to delay the rest. I hereby call the first Addendum hearing on the Thirteenth of September adjourned. We will reconvene at a time and date which will be sent to all interested parties by post."
"What!" Sherlock yelled. Fortunately, the matter of the muggle in the room breaking decorum attracted zero attention. Every other occupant of the packed courtroom was standing up, and chatting, in some cases yelling to be heard over the enormous din.
As Ron and his brothers walked Sherlock out of the courtroom, Percy leaned over.
"So what do you think of magical courts?" He asked.
Sherlock huffed in such a way that made it very clear as to what he thought.
Percy laughed.
"Yes, it's… not always very straightforward. But we do get along."
…
The black Benz was hovering nearby like a shark in shallow water, waiting for an unsuspecting leg to bite. Sherlock did not even bother trying to outrun or lose it. He strode straight up to it and hopped into the shark's mouth with an air of indignation and annoyance.
Mycroft was inside, naturally. He was busy examining something on his phone.
Sherlock remained silent. He knew that Mycroft was likely dying of curiosity. Let him be the first to ask.
It took long minutes, and the Benz had started to move, when finally, Mycroft looked up.
"And has our little plan borne any fruit?" He drawled.
Sherlock fixed him with a stare.
"No." He answered.
Mycroft sighed, very lightly, but with such an air of exasperation Sherlock had to stifle a bitter retort.
"My. Why not?"
"They didn't call him." Sherlock answered.
"And why didn't they call him?" Mycroft arched one eyebrow.
"Ran out of time." Sherlock shrugged.
"Really? You were in there for ages…" Mycroft started.
"I know!" The words burst out of Sherlock. He could no longer contain his frustration with the wizards. He told Mycroft all about the function (or lack thereof) of the wizarding courts, and how they went about things.
"Amazing." Mycroft commented, when Sherlock's furious tirade wound to a close. "This is all very valuable information, brother. I made no secret of my misgivings about this plan of yours, but I suppose it is worth it only in that now I am more familiar with the way wizards conduct their business, and that they are no more clever with these matters than we are."
"They are far, far less clever." Sherlock amended.
"So it seems." Mycroft agreed.
"They'll call him first next time. They'll have to. Of course, that'll break the flow, but it is what it is, I suppose." Sherlock answered.
Hermione, aided by Sherlock, had worked for ages in constructing the witness list in such a way as to present a compelling narrative. They had counted on two to three witnesses per day, and as such, paired them in ways that would make the stories complementary. Neither Sherlock nor Hermione had expected the judges to take one whole day to decide that Ted Lupin was not quite young enough to be dismissed, but not quite old enough to be given full attention.
Sherlock and Hermione had foreseen that there would be doubts about Henry Tonks' metamorphmagus status from Ted Lupin's testimony. That is why the next witness that Sherlock had had to beg Mycroft to pre-arrange, was so crucial. And they never even got to him!
Sherlock wished he could stretch his legs more in the back of the Benz. He wanted to pace. He wanted to move. Maybe even jump up and down screaming.
"What about the second part of our plan?" Sherlock asked Mycroft.
"Our plan?" Mycroft replied.
Sherlock did not dignify this comment with a response.
"It is coming along. My very meager connections in their world are, to say the least, difficult to work with. But, I believe that your deductions about Unspeakable Blackbriar might have been right on the nose." Mycroft said.
"They always are." Sherlock added.
"No," Mycroft smiled unpleasantly, "not always. But this time, yes."
"So, she'll relinquish the wand to the courts?" Sherlock asked, eager. If only they could get that wand, it would all be decided. They could dispense with every other witness, every other piece of evidence, they only needed that wand. If only they could get it…
Mycroft bobbed his head side to side in an entirely superfluous manner. He was pretending to think it over, when Sherlock knew damn well Mycroft was certain on what he would say well before Sherlock even climbed into the car.
"I can't say as of now. But I believe we are getting there. Patience, I believe, is called for now." Mycroft answered.
Sherlock scoffed.
"Yes, not one of your virtues, I am well aware. Lucky that you have come asking me for help." Mycroft said, and Sherlock wound his arms around his torso. Asking his brother for help was almost not worth it. Almost. He had to remind himself of why he even bothered. Harry. His wizard. He had to do this. There was no other way.
…
Harry sat alone in his cell, and pondered that perhaps he had made some poor choices in his life.
Really, he thought, a bit late coming to that conclusion when I'm already locked up.
He felt that the first in the string of bad choices had been that fight with Sherlock. If he had only stayed with the muggle detective, he might never have been caught in this snare. He might still be in the muggle detective's flat, doing something much more pleasant than awaiting the conclusion of a trial that only had one possible ending.
Yes, only one ending. It was brave and loyal and all, for Hermione and the rest to try, but really, who were they fooling?
Being inside the courtroom was very uncomfortable for Harry. All the eyes gazing down had made him want to crawl out of his own skin. He had always tended towards wanting privacy, but especially after his long exile, which he had spent alone. As he had sat in that courtroom, listening to Ted, trying not to look up at the audience, he had remembered the constrictor snake he had set loose in the zoo. Is that what the snake had felt like, day in and day out, with faces pressed against the glass of the terrarium?
The next hearing would be tomorrow morning. He had only a few hours left, to get some sleep, before it all started over.
…
Sherlock sat in his usual spot next to the entire Weasley progeny (a sizable group) and watched as poor, old uncle Rudy was led out to the courtroom. The back of Sherlock's neck prickled. This could go 'not their way' very easily. Technically, his uncle was Rodolphus Lestrange, and, as Ron had warned him, some of the older folks, who remembered what that meant, were going to get excited.
Mycroft had had to arrange it all, of course. Sherlock could have kidnapped his grand-uncle, and orchestrated the whole thing himself, but… all he needed was for Rudy to get yanked up by a black Mercedez right before he could step through the very odd entrance to the Ministry of Magic.
So, here it was. The first of the two favors he had begged off his brother. His own uncle Rudy.
As the old man entered the court, Sherlock was surprised there were not more jeers and calls to shackle him. Didn't the wizards know who he technically was? Sherlock looked around the room. Toadle, the old Head Auror, sat in his chair with a stoic expression on his sagging face.
Suddenly, someone was jostling his ribs with an elbow.
Sherlock spun around.
"I gave Estimius a heads up." Ron whispered.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, that way they don't try to kiss your uncle right when he walks in." Ron explained.
Sherlock nodded.
The eight members of the Wizengamot however, were a slightly different story. The woman, Sweitzholt, was looking down with eyes as big as dinner plates. And Jukoff, a short flabby man, had his mouth completely open.
The witness, Rudy, barely had time to settle himself in his chair, before the members of the Wizengamot were on him.
"Could you state your name for the record please?" Jukoff cut in before Minister Diggory even had a chance to say anything.
"Erm, yes. I have gone by the name Rudy Holmes for many years, but my name at birth was Rodolphus Lestrange…"
A queer, uncomfortable hush descended rapidly over the courtroom.
The members of the Wizengamot were looking between uncle Rudy and the small cluster of aurors present in the courtroom, like they were wondering why Toadle was not doing his thing.
"And are you aware of the very long list of crimes against Wizarding Britain, which you have been charged with, and which you are currently wanted for?" Sweitzholt said, leaving over her desk.
"Yes, I was made aware." Rudy said, his voice shaking. Sherlock grimaced. Was this too much, to ask his uncle to do this thing for him?
"And yet you have chosen to appear today, under the name 'Rudy Holmes,' at least that's what's on our witness list, and… defend Harry Potter?"
"Yes." Uncle Rudy said, his voice a bit more stalwart. The old man looked up into the audience, his eyes scanning. Sherlock made a motion with his hand, and Rudy's eyes landed on him. His uncle nodded at Sherlock, resolved.
"I believe the privilege of first questions goes to the defense?" Minister Diggory interposed, before the other Wizengamot members could fire off more questions.
And so Hermione stood up and posed her first question.
"Mr. Holmes, when was the last time you used magic?" Hermione asked.
"1979." Rudy answered, almost proudly.
"And do you still retain your wand?"
"Yes, I do. I have brought it along. Please feel free to examine it. Cast Priori Incantatem, if it helps." Rudy said.
And so, Granger led Rudy through a series of prepared queries and responses, which established the various facts of Rudy's life. When Sherlock and Hermione had been thinking up this part, Sherlock had wanted Rudy to lie, a little bit. He had wanted his uncle to tell the courts about who actually took the place he vacated in the wizarding world. But of course, his uncle did not know this information. Hermione and Sherlock did, only because Harry told them it was Henry Tonks. Hermione had disagreed with this plan. She had said that being who Rudy was, it was not unlikely that the courts would demand a dose of veritaserum be administered. And then they would be caught in the small lie, which would throw doubt over the rest of their case. Sherlock had begrudgingly agreed.
Once Hermione's questions wound to a close, and she sat down, there was a long, heavy pause, during which Sherlock thought he could gnaw his own arm off. Say something already! He directed his thoughts to the Wizengamot.
"This is all a very interesting story…" Grunspell began, "but we have a very easy way to prove it. Or, disprove it, as it may be."
Rudy looked at Hermione and then Sherlock, like he was silently pleading them to explain what would happen next. Well, Sherlock had no idea, and that in itself was a discomforting thought.
"You are asking us to believe that an imposter took your place. Alright, then, maybe. But said imposter also served 14 years in Azkaban. Are you aware that a man claiming to be you, Rodolphus Lestrange, was tried and convicted in 1981?"
"I…I was made aware of that fact, yes." Rudy nodded shakily.
"And are you aware that before a prisoner is transferred to Azkaban, the Ministry takes a small sample of blood, as part of the incarceration process?" Grunspell said.
Hermione was barely keeping a smile down.
"No, I didn't know that… But please, take a sample of my blood, if that's where this is going." Rudy answered.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr… erm, Holmes. Cressilda, please fetch the record of Azkaban inmate Rodolphus Lestrange."
Sherlock expected this little 'lab analysis' to be something that would be arranged now, and carried out later. Atleast, that might be what happened in the muggle version of this little farce. Not so for the wizards. The wizards took a sample of Rudy's blood, right there on the spot, and as soon as the clerical witch, Cressilda, made it back with the record, they compared the two. Alright, alright. Here, Sherlock had to hand it to the wizards. That was expedient.
Once presented with the record, and a small vial of Rudy's blood, all members of the Wizengamot, in turn, cast a spell: Eadem Essento.
"Not a match," said the witch, Sweitzholt.
"Not a match!" said the Minister, a little note of happy surprise in his voice. And so it went around, until all eight had done the spell. Everyone with the same results.
"Most peculiar!" Jukoff said. "How very interesting! So, then who did we put in Azkaban, if not Rodolphus Lestrange?"
At this, Hermione cleared her throat.
"Minister, Wizengamot. We have put forth a request to bring Rabastan Lestrange to the court, in order to provide testimony for the defense of Harry…" She started to say.
"That request was denied. We hardly need a longer witness list. And anyway, the aurors assure me that Rabastan would not be in a fit state to be questioned, so…" Minister Diggory seemed irrationally annoyed at this request. Again, Sherlock inched closer in his chair, wondering what the Minister's game was.
"No, no Amos, I think we should bring him out. Let's see what old Rabastan has to say!" Jukoff interrupted.
"I am as confused as anyone about this peculiar case of mistaken identity. I would also like to hear from the other Lestrange brother who might have been impersonating Rodolphus." Added Grunspell.
With a look like he was swallowing down a particularly juicy slug, Minister Diggory acquiesced.
"Fine, fine, we grant the defense's request. Rabastan Lestrange will be added to the witness list. Does anyone have any more questions for the present witness?"
The Minister barely waited a beat, before moving on. "Next witness, please."
Hermione walked uncle Rudy out of the courtroom. Sherlock looked down at the Minister. He was in a hurry. Why?
…
"And then, his face began to change. I had never seen real magic before, you understand, so I was absolutely terrified." Laura Baskey said, and from the little tremble in her voice, Sherlock thought she made a very believable witness.
"But, before his face changed, what did he look like?" Grunspell asked.
"He… he looked…" Laura shot a glance at Sherlock, "I don't know."
Sherlock groaned in his seat. Preparing Laura had been his job. And he told her to lie. The wizards could not use veritaserum on muggles. She would be safe lying, he assured her. Why hadn't she lied?!
"You don't know?" Grunspell continued.
"No, I never got a chance to look under his hood before he started changing." Laura said, glancing at Harry in his shackles. It was the chair. Harry's scary chain-chair had made Laura forget the deal she made with Sherlock, and forget that she was supposed to lie.
Sherlock sat back into his wooden bench seat with a huff. Damn, they were behind. Between Laura and Rudy, Sherlock was hoping they would have been further along in establishing Henry Tonks's identity.
He nervously fingered the plastic edge of his phone, although he could not use the phone here without the risk of frying it completely. Sherlock really needed his brother to come through. And that thought burned him with shame.
"… alright then, the witness list, being what it is, has forced us to adjourn once again. We will reconvene, once again, with the details of the time and date mailed by post…" The Minister said, looking pointedly at Hermione, and everyone stood up.
As soon as Sherlock made it out of the Ministry of Magic, he jammed the button on his cell that turned it on.
No later than the little digital screen lit up, he was getting a call.
Sherlock shoved the phone against his ear.
"Rudy's fine." Sherlock said.
"I know. I'm having him driven back. They took his blood?" Mycroft's voice on the other end of the line was cold.
"Yes. I didn't know they would do that. But, it worked in our favor." Sherlock said, "Listen, the second part of our plan…"
"Just what I was calling you about, brother. Please stay near the Ministry. I am on my way. We have been invited by Unspeakable Blackbriar to discuss some terms."
"Oh?" Sherlock's heart swooped into his throat. "I'm right here now."
"Then I'll see you shortly." Mycroft hung up.
…
Sherlock had no idea that the place Unspeakable Blackbriar had chosen to discuss these terms of hers was going to be Harry's holding cell. That had definitely been a surprise. Fortunately, the reason for this strange choice was quickly revealed.
Unspeakable Blackbriar strode right in, with Sherlock and Mycroft behind her, and shook hands with Harry.
"Potter." She greeted him, "You probably know these two. So, let's jump in."
As soon as the door to the holding cell closed, the woman wasted no time.
"You might or might not know this, but since the unfortunate demise of Mr. Tonks, I have been placed into the position of Head of the Department of Mysteries." She started.
Sherlock nodded. He did know this.
"Now, as the newly promoted Head, I have some leeway in certain matters." She continued.
"Did you find the wand or not?" Sherlock cut the woman off.
He felt Mycroft bristle next to him.
Blackbriar fixed Sherlock with a piercing stare.
"Anything found in my Department is in my authority to dispose of, as the Head." She answered.
Sherlock could read between the lines. Yes, they had found it.
"And?" He prompted.
"It's very simple." The woman said, "I am asking you for a favor."
"What sort of favor?" Mycroft frowned.
"Not you. I'm asking Potter." Blackbriar turned to Harry. "While you were unconscious, the aurors found something peculiar on your person. A black stone."
Harry's face looked like a mask. He gave no reply.
"And after the aurors attempted to remove it from your person, the stone vanished. They could not say where it went."
Blackbriar paused again, leaving Harry room to confirm or deny this. Harry, once again, said nothing.
"The aurors filed their report, and of course, they paid little attention to this small detail. But, it certainly attracted the attention of our Department. My attention, too."
Again, Blackbriar looked at Harry. Harry looked right back, his face completely blank.
"Do you know the stone I'm talking about, Potter?" She finally asked.
Sherlock stared at Harry. Even he knew the stone she was talking about. The Resurrection Stone. He had seen it himself, when Harry had shown him the Black Chest inside 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry had opened the locks that kept it hidden with his own blood.
"Will you please answer my question?" Blackbriar asked again.
"I don't think I have to. This isn't a courtroom." Harry replied, ostensibly looking around himself. Sherlock curled his fists. There would have been no point to any of his struggles or effort, if he were to strangle Harry right here and right now.
"Harry, could you be reasonable, in this one very important instance?" Sherlock said.
Harry shot Sherlock an apologetic look. That'd be a no.
"Here are my terms then. Very simple. The wand for the stone." Blackbriar said, looking at the others in the room in turn, with her hands out on her sides.
"Harry…" Sherlock said, stepping closer to his wizard. He had to make him understand. "If we get our hands in this wand…"
"I know, Sherlock." Harry cut him off. "But the answer is still no. I'm sorry to put you through all this trouble, Ms. Blackbriar."
Blackbriar shrugged her shoulders. No skin off her back, the gesture implied.
Sherlock took a deep, sucking breath, to steady and calm himself. He took one more step towards Harry.
"Please, please try to understand. The trial isn't going as well as we'd hoped so far," Sherlock said, thinking bitterly about Laura's last minute streak of honesty, "and we need every possible advantage. We need-"
"Sherlock, I do understand. About the trial. But there are more important things than the verdict. There are more important things than…me." Harry said.
Sherlock could almost feel the gravitational pull of the extremely impressive eye roll his brother executed. Sherlock closed his own eyes.
"Well, I suppose that settles it. If you change your mind, you know how to get in touch." Blackbriar said, and purposefully strode out of the room.
They could not stay after that. Sherlock shot one more imploring look at Harry, and left the holding cell.
As soon as they were inside of Mycroft's black car, the 'fun' started.
"You know," Mycroft said slowly, enjoying each word, "it is most amusing to see you dealing with someone who is as, or maybe more, obstinate than yourself."
Sherlock stared out the window of his car. Amusing, was it?
"I have to amend my previously given opinion: if Potter ever makes it out of this, you two make a fitting pair. A big if, now, I suppose." Mycroft added.
Sherlock's chest heaved and he whirled in his seat to look at his brother.
Mycroft, for just a split second, looked very tired.
"I did tell you not to get yourself attached." He said.
"Yes." Sherlock answered. "You did."
…
Shortly before the next hearing, about half an hour to be exact, Sherlock and Hermione were alone in a corridor of the Ministry of Magic.
Sherlock was listening to Hermione, as she discussed the difficulties of getting Rabastan Lestrange out of Azkaban, in order to question him. Suddenly, they heard hurried footsteps down the hall.
They saw the Minister, Amos Diggory, practically barreling towards them. He looked… unhappy.
"You all took entirely too long!" He said to Hermione, instead of a greeting.
"Pardon?" Hermione said.
"We took too long?" Sherlock said at the same time.
"Yes!" The Minister threw his hands up in the air. "That list of witnesses! One after another after another. Now look! We've run out of time! Gah! I suppose we'll just have to make the best of it. But know this, I tried!"
And with that the Minister stalked away.
Hermione turned to Sherlock with wide eyes.
"I wonder what that was about." She mumbled.
"Nothing good, probably." Sherlock replied darkly.
Sherlock slid into his bench seat next to Ron, and observed the courtroom. What had the Minister been on about? The journalists, Sherlock noted, knew something was up. But what was it?
It became abundantly clear when the Wizengamot began appearing inside of the courtroom. The whole Wizengamot. All fifty seven of them. Sherlock locked eyes with Hermione. No, this was certainly nothing good.
"What's happening right now?" Ron asked.
Sherlock opened his mouth to answer that he had no idea, but then realized the question was not directed at him. Further down, Percy Weasley shook his head.
"The whole thing with the abridged Wizengamot was really not proper in the first place." Percy answered. "I mean, yes, technically, this is an addendum, but considering their thinking of overturning the original verdict, it really should have been the whole Wizengamot from the get go. It's kind of a letter vice the spirit of the law, that let Diggory do that. He must have been really desperate to push it through on his terms."
They all looked down at the huge group of people in purple robes taking their seats. Did this mean the trial would have to restart? Did they just get reset to the beginning?
"Why? I mean, what's Diggory got to do with it?" Ron asked.
"Think, Ron. Minister Diggory is up for re-election in less than a month. And who is his opponent? His only opponent?" Percy asked.
"Andrei Mirum. So?" Ron said.
"So. Andrei Mirum, if you recall, was the interim Minister when Kingsley… well, when the original fiasco happened. Can you imagine the press if the story goes out that Harry was innocent all along? 'Mirum puts innocent wizarding hero, Harry Potter, the slayer of Voldemort, in Azkaban, for something Potter didn't do.' Diggory will landslide the election. Mirum will be lucky if he gets a job as a clerk from then on, and he was the biggest competition Amos had for years."
"He was trying to help Harry to win the election?"
"Do they do anything, for any other reason?" Percy arched an eyebrow at Ron. Sherlock got a brief flash of Mycroft.
"But then…" Ron's eyes began searching the members of the Wizengamot.
"Yes. There's Mirum. Right there." Percy pointed to a sharp featured man, sitting close to Minister Diggory. "I imagine they've put in a complaint of impropriety about the whole 'abridged jury' business. Now, Diggory's got to have the whole Wizengamot present, not just himself and his seven closest mates. So, basically…"
"This just went down the tube for us." Ron said bleakly.
"Essentially." Percy confirmed. "Maybe," he amended. "How good are the rest of your witnesses?"
Ron hunkered down and shrugged.
Sherlock felt his throat close. No, this was most decidedly not good. Not good at all.
"Third Addendum hearing on the Twenty Fourth of September; the Defendant, Harry James Potter, having further evidence to provide, will contend the Wizengamot's decision, of the Trial of Harry James Potter, on May Tenth, 1999, for using Deadly Force, and Unforgivable Curses." The Minister rattled off. "Wizengamot Member, Andrei Mirum, has petitioned to lead the rest of these Hearings, and the Wizengamot has concluded that it would be appropriate to do so. Also, as you may have noticed," Minister Diggory shot Hermione a look, "We are being joined by the entire Wizengamot. It has been found that the Wizengamot Refinement act of 1892 does not apply in this case. Every member who has not appeared at the initial two hearings has been given a thorough brief on the progress thus far, and we continue where we left off. Now, then, Andrei…"
"Thank you, Minister." Andrei Mirum said, and motioned towards Hermione, "Next witness, please."
Head Auror Toadle was next on their list. He conjured a small table next to his chair, and placed a half empty bottle of mead upon it.
"I wish to enter into the Wizengamot consideration an artifact which may have some bearing on the case." Toadle said, tapping the bottle. It was the same one which Hermione had found along with the rest of Ron's belongings, while Ron was comatose.
Toadle explained that the mead was the culprit behind the poisoning of one of his aurors, Ronald Weasley.
"And did you investigate the origin of this poison?" Andrei Mirum asked.
"We did." Toadle said.
He then gave a brief overview of being tipped off that Tonks might have been behind it. They searched the man's apartment, and found the smoking gun, so to speak.
"Interesting." Andrei Mirum was nodding. "He had the poison?"
"Yes." Toadle concluded.
Sherlock had to admit something rather uncomfortable. He sort of liked the way Andrei Mirum was handling things. He did not ask impertinent questions, and got through the cross examination with grace and efficiency. However, the fact that he was present at all was probably bad news for Harry.
"Next witness!" Mirum called, and Ron, who had already climbed most of the way down, took the chair.
Ron had very little to say. His contribution was mainly in confirming that yes, the last thing he remembered before falling into a magical coma was drinking his mead. And that yes, he was in the process of interrogating Snape at the time this occurred. And yes, while interrogating Snape, he began looking into the original crime with which Harry was charged.
Mirum was done with him in under thirty minutes. He called the next witness. They were moving at a fast clip. Sherlock's heart started to race. It's too fast. We're going too fast!
"Next witness?" Mirum said again.
There was a long delay. Everyone sat, twitching in their seats, for nearly an hour while the next witness was being fetched.
Suddenly, Cressilda, the courts clerk, rushed into the room. She came right up to Mirum, and began urgently whispering something in his ear. Mirum nodded his head briskly as she spoke.
"Ah, alright, it seems we will not be calling the next witness after all." Mirum said to the room at large. "I regret to inform you: Rabastan Lestrange has died of natural causes, while being transported from Azkaban to the holding cells in the Ministry."
Sherlock's stomach dropped out. He saw Hermione gasp, and put her hand to her mouth. Died? Really?! Now of all times?! Sherlock supposed the man must have been old. The shock of leaving Azkaban after all this time…
"Unfortunate as this is, we must press on. I believe that was the last witness on our list? We may now hear the closing statements from the defense, and begin our deliberations."
"And what about hearing from the defendant himself?" Minister Diggory cut in.
Andrei Mirum's eyebrows shot up.
"Are you talking this time, Potter?" He asked with genuine surprise.
Harry nodded.
"That's a welcome change! I always felt poorly about not getting to hear your side, last time. Alright then, next witness, Harry James Potter." Mirum said.
"Andrei, we barely have twenty minutes left." This time it was Jukoff that cut in.
Mirum looked at his watch, then at Hermione.
"Is this going to take longer than twenty minutes?" He asked.
"Erm, yes, it definitely will." Hermione replied.
"Hmm. Alright. I hereby call the third Addendum hearing on the Twenty Fourth of September adjourned. We will reconvene at a time and date which will be sent to all interested parties by post."
Sherlock almost dry heaved in relief. They still had time. A little time. He caught one last look at Harry as the guards took him away.
Sherlock dashed outside. He was so familiar with the Ministry now, and Hermione had filed all the paperwork, that he could go unescorted through magical locations as he needed. He was a 'muggle in the know.'
Sherlock wasn't going to waste the last chance he had. He burst out into muggle London, and immediately pressed his phone on. He waited the agonizing seconds while the stupid little machine booted up.
He was not going to let them take his wizard away and execute him. Finally, the phone blinked on, and he immediately dialed Mycroft.
Sherlock was going to make sure this went their way, no matter what it might cost him. And he knew, deep in his gut, that this would cost him everything.
"What is it? Did they find him guilty yet?" Mycroft's voice sounded.
"No, listen. Call Blackbriar. Tell her we have a deal. I'll get that stone for her." Sherlock barked into the phone. He knew where the stone must have ended up. Sherlock could make the deal with Blackbriar himself.
Potter was going to be saved, whether he wanted to be or not.
…
