Chapter XXI: The Trial of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Salazar the Parcelmouth, after leaving the Suzerain within the school, left it forever. Salazar the Parceltongue crossed the seas and found a witch, Sepora the Susurrus.
He knew her; they had three sons:
Corvus the Augur, Cypres the Awakened, and Hyperion the Metarmorphmagus
Page 4 of the Slytherin Codex
Medusa woke up very early that morning. She had been told what to do and what to say. She dressed in the long, sky-blue dress with the wise collar that the elves had left on the bed. She watched herself tie up her hair in front of the mirror, so she looked innocent and sensible. But that was what she was, wasn't it?
To not answer this question, she grabbed Echo, who was busy sleeping in his basket, and left.
"Where are we going, Mistressss?" hissed the little reptile, delighted that she thought to take care of him.
"To see an execution," whispered Medusa, who had been thinking about it for days.
If all went well, as her father and mother had told her, all her torments would be over. She just found her mother in the hall, busy chatting with Nagini while drinking her strengthening potion. Her mother was also unrecognisable, having abandoned her long black dresses and loose petticoats for a fitted witch's dress with a light blue collar. Her long black hair was tied in an intricate bun as she put on her sunglasses to block out the light. Dressed like this, Medusa thought they looked a lot alike.
"You're perfect, hun'," her mother whispered, handing her a chocolate frog. "Eat. We may have to skip the lunch break today."
"Good luck," whispered Nagini, who was staying with Salazar at the priory.
Her father appeared on the grand staircase with a deadpan expression. Nagini tensed imperceptibly as her mother gave her a playful smile.
"What an awful day ahead..."
"For a horrible person's end," her father smiled, taking her mother's arm with wickedness mixed with complicity.
Medusa realised that they had been waiting for this day for years and were quivering with nasty excitement.
She, however, joined them, greeting Nagini. Outside, they passed Salazar sitting on one of the stone statues in the entrance, reading his notebook. Her twin looked up at her without any expression. Ever since he got home, Sal had been acting weird around her; he was even more distant than usual.
"You should go back inside, my dove," their mother chirped cheerfully. "It's going to be cold today, and you're all pale. We will be back for dinner."
She was almost laughing at him, and their father only snorted. They Apparated soon after.
The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was located on the second floor of the Ministry of Magic. They arrived early in the morning, but the hallway leading to the courtroom was already filled with wizards and witches in red robes. It was the full Wizengamot, presided over by Minister Ignatus Tuft. He walked over to Medusa's father and shook his hand.
"Mr. Riddle, are you coming in your capacity as Acting Headmaster of the school?"
"The school board has already officially appointed me Headmaster. My family and I have our own testimony to bring to this case."
Tuft looked bored; he had a grumpy, unprepossessing face. Medusa thought he looked limp and silly. It was said that he was one of the most mediocre ministers that the English government had ever had, but no one dared to say it too loudly because all the great wizarding families supported him. The Minister glanced at Medusa and her mother behind her father.
"My respects, ladies," he said vaguely, returning his eyes to his interlocutor. "Messy story, yes, a pretty messy story. We should be done soon. Tonight Dumbledore will be in Azkaban, I'm sure."
"Let Justice do her job," her father whispered as he led them to the courtroom doors.
"Tuft is a fool," her mother whispered, annoyed when they were away from the eavesdroppers.
"A fool can be manipulated; they are old foxes to be wary of."
Another man joined them; Medusa had met him once at the Derby. She didn't know his name; he was small with a small pointed chin, and Medusa found him quite insignificant.
"Attorney Black, thank you for coming," her mother whispered, shaking the individual's hand.
"I have been asked to try Dumbledore before the Wizengamot, but defending the widow and the orphan is one of my predilections," Attorney Black assured pompously.
The doors to the courtroom opened, and they were able to enter. Medusa settled down between her father and mother on the pews while the Wizengamot took their place on the dais. Mr. Black moved close to them, and she noticed Mrs. Burbage already seated because she was too badly injured. She was pale, and on her only remaining leg, the venom of the spiders had made her look sick. Tuft presided over the High Court of the Wizengamot.
There were a few journalists in the room, but for the rest, the closed session had been demanded by a part of the Wizengamot still loyal to Dumbledore. Despise all that happened behind the scenes of this judgement; nothing escaped her father, who had told her most of it. Mafalda Hopkrik, a tall, round-faced witch, was very close to Dumbledore in her capacity as Under Secretary and approached this trial with an anxious air. When Tuft sat down, they were able to sit together in one motion.
From there, smaller doors opened to let Dumbledore through. He was serene and walked freely between the two aurors. The old man was dressed in a leafy green robe and seemed surprisingly calm as he went to sit in his dock facing the minister.
"On this day of March 20, 1967, the High Court of the Wizengamot meets for the solemn judgement of one of our members. The lawsuit of Albus Perceval Wulfric Brian Dumbledore for serious misconduct and negligence, following the decision of the School Board, has resulted in his losing his title of Headmaster. You are appearing today for your faults following the complaints of Professor Charity Burbage and the Board of Directors of the school, Mr. Dumbledore. What do you plead?"
"Guilty," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "I am undeniably guilty of the faults of which I am accused, and I would like to explain myself to you."
Next to Medusa, her father had a mocking little sneer hidden in his hand. Dumbledore gave him a playful look before turning his gaze to the Minister.
"Did you choose a Wizattorney, at least?" laughed Tuft, "or will you have to defend yourself?"
Tuft wasn't using legal terminology because it was an investment he didn't want to put into this judgement, but he wasn't wrong. Medusa had been passionate about the history of rights lessons Binns gave in her second year; she really liked the idea that the laws they had written during their wizarding history allowed them to live better. A lot of times, that wasn't the case, so part of her hoped that if her father came to power through his plans, maybe the laws of the world would be a little better. In any case, to defend himself, Dumbledore needed a lawyer, or else he would defend himself.
At the same time, the great doors of the hall of judgement opened to let pass a slender but long wizard. He looked dirty, with greyish hair tied in a half-undone ponytail and a badly trimmed beard. He was in a threadbare and patched plum-coloured wizard's robe that he matched with an olive-coloured tie. It looked like it was the only new item of clothing in his miserable and stained wardrobe.
His entrance brought with him a slightly heady scent of goat and low-quality alcohol. When Dumbledore saw the stranger, he looked both happy and surprised to see him, and Medusa noticed that their eyes were very similar.
"Who are you, you?" growled Tuft.
"The Wizattorney representing Mr. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," said the stranger in a hoarse voice. "Aberforth Dumbledore. Just Aberforth because the other first names were taken."
There was a unanimous movement of bewilderment in the courtroom as Tuft frowned above his rat nose.
"The accused's brother? Where are you a lawyer from? Your name never went through the Wizengamot School, as far as I know."
The high judges turned among themselves to comment on this announcement in low voices.
'Wizengamot Magistracy School' was a yearlong course that only certain wizards attempted, many of them the purest and most fortunate. It guaranteed, in fact, a place to sit during the hearings, and it was therefore an assembly of pureblood wizards—for the most part acquired by Medusa's family—who observed this newcomer.
High Justice Keeper Hopkrik spoke after reading a note in her file:
"Then, owner of the pub, Hogg's Head Inn, you passed your Wizattorney licence by equivalence in 1944, thanks to the Magic University of Second Chances," she said in a slightly trembling voice. "From there, you only claimed your seat as a lawyer a year later to have the Ariana Act voted on to the Code of Regulation of Magical Secrecy."
Medusa didn't know the paragraph the lawyer was talking about, but that fact gave Aberforth Dumbledore all the legitimacy to represent his brother even though he hadn't taken the "classic" route.
"That is correct, under the direction of the late Willemina Tuft, the mother of our dear Minister, who decided in favour of the addition of this paragraph."
"Pardon my delay," the Dumbledore said quietly. "I did not know that the time of the trial had been brought forward. By chance, I was to deliver a barrel of mead to one of you. 'Seeing no one coming, I understood that someone tried to trick me."
He punctuated his apology with a black-toothed smile that disgusted Medusa, while a few members of the Wizengamot had the good taste to look embarrassed. Dumbledore leaned over to speak to his brother as a slightly bewildered Tuft cleared his throat. What the two brothers said to each other must not have been sympathetic because one would have thought that the youngest was insulting his elder.
"If the defendant Dumbledore, agrees to be represented by... you, then we can resume."
Dumbledore, from his defendant's box, nodded quietly.
Medusa noticed that her father looked tense. Dumbledore's apparent affability was enough to disconcert more than one, while her mother glared at the headmaster's brother with a look that would scare away dementors. Aberforth Dumbledore was not expected in the trial, and her father eyed the wizard with a worrying look as he waited for the sequel.
The photos of the various injured and damaged Hogwarts taken by the aurors were presented to the Wizengamot, while certain high mages read the official reports drawn up by the aurors.
The enumeration was long and laborious, in somewhat obtuse jargon, and Medusa resolved to listen as Tuft recalled the latest facts.
"Finally, your absence has caused thirteen injuries and utterly injured your colleague, Mrs. Burbage, who agreed to appear as a witness. You were aware of the danger of the presence of acromentulae within the forest without acting accordingly."
"Barriers were put up to protect the castle," Abelforth objected. "The All-Prevent spell, prevents non-human or humanoid creatures from entering the place. For the shield to be broken, a spell must have been cast from inside the park. My very dear brother and client, not being physically present as you pointed out, it is not his fault that the charm was pierced."
"Can the Headmaster's distance weaken the spells?" a fat wizard asked Dumbledore.
"Normally not," said the former director, scanning the room.
At that response, the clerk and her conforming truth quill wrote fiercely on their notebook as Medusa's father tensed. Dumbledore was looking in their direction. If the courtroom hadn't been filled with witnesses, no doubt his progenitor would have killed the director in a second.
"As explained by my client during his report drawn up by the aurors, the transfer of these spiders was planned for the school holidays so as not to endanger the students. The Magiczoologist Newt Scamander, will be able to confirm it to you; several other wizards have volunteered for this task."
"And where was Dumbledore?" asked a Wizengamot witch.
"Called along with the Aurors after Grindelwald's mark appeared over Diagon Alley. Auror Director Sandor Rosier can testify for you as well. In vain, Grindelwald was absent," Aberforth pointed out. "Little jokes or a diversion? Admit, it's strange how the elements line up; as my client is drawn away, the castle defences are breached from the inside."
"Hypothetically pierced from the inside. Mr. Rosier's report indicates that no anomaly was likely found. And do you have a name, or at least a perpetrator? Grindelwald cannot excuse all your client's faults," Tuft was exasperated.
"Indeed," replied the younger Dumbledore, "I have one. Professor Tom Riddle."
Her father had expected it. He offered the assembly a smile.
"I have a completely different version to offer," her father said quietly, getting up.
Attorney Black stood up and walked through the courtroom to the doors, where a wizard emerged. He was a bit thin and pale, with long red hair tied in a ponytail. Medusa knew him very well.
"Fabian Prewett," Mrs. Hopkrik recognised him, completely paralyzed. "You've been missing for years!"
"For my protection, I had to disappear," articulated the young man with difficulty, which then took on the air of an actor in a laughable play. "After Dumbledore forced us to abduct the Riddle twins, my brother was murdered for failing."
In Dumbledore's gaze, there seemed to be all the desolation in the world, as the Wizengamot was energised by his revelations. Medusa saw all the dread and anger crossing the faces of the red-robed wizards as Abelforth Dumbledore stared angrily at the ground.
"We-W-We're going to take a short break," Tuft said, a little overwhelmed again.
Sitting between her parents, Medusa saw them smirk and smug. In this trial, they had only just begun to play and had carefully placed all the pieces to attack Dumbledore's honour and reputation before assassinating him.
It was a unique spectacle because she was going to be an actress this time; she just had to let herself be carried away, and maybe this darkness in her heart would be satisfied with it. Therefore, like her parents, she smirked.
.
After a short break, the trial resumed. Black had gone off to chat with Mrs. Burbage and Prewett with her father. Medusa imagined that the shock and anger had prompted the witch to file a complaint with the school and the Wizengamot and settle for it. This stupid Muggle friend allowed herself to be manipulated into helping Medusa get revenge, which pleased her. Like all simple things, they had a special taste.
"The little mudblood fell in love with your father," her mother cackled, grabbing her hand. "Now he has found a new toy."
Indeed, Burbage was staring at Medusa's father with a soft air. As if she were appeased by his words, while in the dock, the two Dumbledores seemed to be arguing. Medusa retrieved her hand, glancing fiercely at her mother.
"The trial can resume, with Wizattorney Orion Black providing, in addition to the defence of Mrs. Burbage and the School Council, the defence of the Riddle family. Mr. Prewett, as a key witness in the case, you are moving on now."
Slowly, Prewett walked towards the courtroom's interior, where a seat had appeared. Tuft was sizing up this newcomer with barely polite interest, while Aberforth Dumbledore had ceased to parley with his brother.
"First of all," Aberforth called out, "we must be sure that Mr. Prewett is telling the truth, given his suspicious absence for the past ten years. Truth-Serum must be used in accordance with our laws."
Medusa and her parents were not surprised by this request; they suspected that it was coming. Tuft scratched the bridge of his nose inelegantly, trying to remember the law justifying this procedure. Mrs. Hopkrik glanced at the Dumbledores, then leaned over the Minister irritably.
"The Lestrange's Decree concerning the Code of Magical Justice. 'If a witness in a case disappears for a period of more than two months, the Truth Serum is the tool used to guarantee transparency in the application of the judgement.'"
"Then, do so."
An auror went to get the Truth Serum, and when he came back with a large tray and a carafe, Medusa found that he looked a bit like Kingsley Shacklebolt in his seventh year in Gryffindor; it was probably his father. The Auror placed the tray and the silver jug in front of Fabian Prewett. The latter cast a fierce glance in their direction, and her mother had to give him an encouraging gesture because he took the small silver bucket held out by the auror. The clerks jotted down this information, while Aberforth Dumbledore looked pure contentment.
When Fabian put down the silver bucket, Abelforth grabbed it, filled it, and put it in his mouth under their astonished gaze.
"If anyone's got to tell the truth in this trial, everybody's got to tell it," the Dumbledore said mockingly, setting his bucket down like a drunk.
Albus Dumbledore, in his boxing, smiled a little, and it was seeing her father's dangerous expression that Medusa understood. Dumbledore could very well have defended himself for what mattered now. He had decided not to try to flee, and he had chosen his brother to defend him. An individual who was unknown to Tom Riddle and highly unpredictable.
Dumbledore hadn't said his last word at the dry, pinched smile he gave them. Her mother muttered something in a language Medusa did not understand, while Orion Black below silently asked if he should take a dose of Truth Serum as well. At that, her father gave her a cold look, and Black left the tray and the carafe of Truth Serum there.
"So we left off when you arrived, Mr. Prewett. After Professor Dumbledore accused Professor Riddle, you confessed to the attempted abduction of Mr. and Mrs. Riddle's children," Tuft summed up. "I give you the right to speak, Wizattorney Dumbledore."
"It was for that last sentence that I had to learn our laws back and forth," smiled Abelforth Dumbledore, clapping his hands.
He looked like an old pug that, for the first time, had found a rubber bone to nibble on his way. He approached Prewett with a small smile made of black teeth and a badly trimmed beard to see from which angle to attack.
"Alright, we will start with your identity and date of birth to ensure the effectiveness of the serum."
"Fabian Collinus Prewett," the interrogated replied slowly, refusing to look at the Dumbledores. "Born January 3, 1939."
"Twin brother of Gideon Senerus Prewett killed in February 1957 in Knockturn Alley?"
"Yes."
Medusa knew very well how to resist the Truth-Serum; her father and her mother had taught her and had undoubtedly given lessons to Prewett.
You just have to answer with little sentences to deflect the effect of the serum as well as possible. You could say what you wanted if you were prepared enough, but with some questions, you couldn't lie if they were too unpredictable. And seeing Aberforth Dumbledore scratching his dirty hair with a strange smile, she thought that this man was precisely extremelyunpredictable.
Anxious, Medusa observed all these strangers debating:
"You have so far been missing and pronounced dead after your twin was murdered. Where have you been all this time?"
"At Mr. and Mrs. Riddle's," Prewett replied in a small voice. "They welcomed me with generosity despite what I had done to them."
"Let's talk about what you've done," Tuft said as Master Black chuckled quietly into the collar of his robes. "Can you tell us more? Professor Dumbledore, then headmaster of Hogwarts, ordered you to kidnap two children?"
"Yes. W-We had just finished our studies with my brother when Professor Dumbledore told us about his project. He didn't trust Professor Riddle, who had just been hired and had convinced us to help him. He said he was dangerous. We didn't really know what to expect, so we listened to it. We trusted Dumbledore. When we realised that the mission he gave us was to kidnap Medusa and Salazar Riddle, we couldn't back down. That… That day, Mrs. Riddle was alone with her children and her elves. We knew she was a squib, so we attacked them. The elves attacked us too, and as Mrs. Riddle fled, Dumbledore killed my brother from a rooftop. Mrs. Riddle took me with her for my protection."
Beside Medusa, her mother was barely concealing her contented little coo. She loved people talking about her and selling her exploits. In a certain way, her mother and father were very similar, and maybe that was what their marriage was about after all these years.
The entire Wizengamot looked pensive as eyes flickered from Dumbledore to Prewett. Aberforth leaned over to his elder to comment on the revelations while Master Black feigned staring at his fingernails in palpable annoyance. The two journalists from the Prophet's had their eyes feverishly lowered on their parchment.
"So you went into hiding for almost ten years without filing a complaint against my client?" resumed Aberforth.
"Yes."
"Well treated?"
"N-Yes."
This small hesitation made a spark shine in the electric blue eyes of the youngest Dumbledore. Behind his mist of filthy, loose hair, Medusa found him looking like an old fox on the hunt.
"Are you sure you saw Dumbledore attack your brother back then?"
"No," the stunned Prewett replied honestly before continuing. "I didn't have time to see it, but that's what Mrs. Riddle and her elves told me. I believe them. They were good to me and protected me when I couldn't contact my relatives. They have been really, really good for me, really, really good!"
"I can imagine. Have you become Mrs. Riddle's lover?"
"Yes-N-"
"Objection!" Orion Black eructed, stepping forward. "This question has nothing to do with the case!"
"Oh, it has," whispered Abelforth Dumbledore. "Although I'm going to ask our kind audience to wait a little longer, I would like Mrs. Riddle to be questioned about our case."
Her mother had tensed slightly on her bench while Medusa's father tried to keep an impassive mask on. Medusa felt very well the black anger that was starting to rise between them.
"We're talking about a serious case of negligence resulting in assault and battery at our prestigious school, then we're talking about a kidnapping case, and now what? What dirty cases are you going to dig up?" Tuft interjected.
"When you start digging, you never know what you're going to dig up," said the younger Dumbledore quietly.
Minister Tuft seemed to be having fun for the first time since the start of the trial. He didn't like Dumbledore like many people in the Ministry and seemed to find it very intriguing to delve into his darkest secrets. Albus Dumbledore had a vaguely disinterested look, as if he were in front of a pitifully smeared painting and that he was waiting for the most suitable moment to spare himself this sad contemplation.
"I'm calling our witness, Mrs. Riddle," Tuft said after chewing on his lip.
When her mother stood up, she glared fiercely at her spouse. They exchanged silently for half a second, during which Medusa almost saw the features of her progenitor stretch to become those of a snake, as his anger was great. He composed a quiet pout as Medusa's mother gracefully walked down the stage to sit in the witness seat next to Prewett. The scoop of Truth Potion was presented to her, and she drank it down with confidence.
Medusa glared at her father, hoping to understand her mother's confusion taking place.
"Your mother knows this Dumbledore," he whispered, too smooth and sugary not to announce a future punishment.
Almost by reflex, Medusa pulled away, but her dad placed a firm, icy hand on her shoulder to hold her in place.
"Introduce yourself," Tuft ordered. "Names, date, and place of birth."
"Meroe Sara Riddle, born Gaunt-Apreti on June 21, 1920, in Sarandë, Albania."
"Can you tell us about that day in February 1957?" Wizattorney Black asked.
It sounded like her mother had been preparing her whole life for this question. In her light blue dress and with her cream-coloured scarf around her face, she was a figure of innocence as she began in a pained voice.
"I had to go on an errand to shoe my thestrals…you know, it's so difficult to find good craftsmen so as not to damage their hooves. I knew there was a junkyard in Knockturn Alley. That day, my tender darlings were a little overexcited. You know what it is at that age; they literally run around... I decided to take them with me to calm them down a bit. After completing my shop, I saw two shadows coming towards me. They tried to rip my poor Salazar out of my arms. I screamed, and our elf, Manila, intervened. The unfortunate little creature got hit hard and died instantly. I was able to take Salazar and Medusa with me while one of the men was shot. I saw Mr. Prewett looking in dire distress and took him with me as we Apparated with our elves."
Her mother had taken a lace handkerchief from her light blue dress and hid half her face in it, like a somewhat grotesque tragic actress. Medusa had never seen her mother cry and doubted that she was capable of it, but the Wizengamot sympathised with her mother's half-lies. Her father looked smug in the stands.
"Forgive me for asking you further, Mrs. Riddle," Wizattorney Black continued in a compassionate voice, "but what happened next?"
"When we got home, my husband confronted Mr. Prewett; we explained each other, but Mr. Prewett couldn't come up with who had sent him and why. I admit having seduced him to obtain this information. A mother and a wife would do many things for the sake of their family, you know. My devoted husband knows about it and approves of my actions."
"Why didn't Dumbledore face justice right away?" Tuft said it with a tone of suspicion.
"Because he worried us. My husband had been teaching at Hogwarts for barely a year and had never been very close to the Headmaster. We wanted to know his motives for attacking us when we were innocent. We were both burning with resentment, but we resolved to wait in order to protect our children. Tom was watching the Headmaster not attack Hogwarts students while I was watching our twins. You know, after that, our son wasn't the same. Salazar was completely traumatized by this experience."
"Indeed," Black agreed. "Your young son was unable to attend court today due to this trauma. I have no further questions for you."
"The floor, then, is to Wizattorney Dumbledore," Mrs. Hopkrik said.
"Are you a descendant of the Gaunt family, you a squib?" Aberforth began, but he already knew the answer.
"Yes."
"Objection, this remark has no other purpose than to insult my client!" Black said.
"I'm just trying to figure out the situation so that we can all understand it afterwards," the Dumbledore hissed. Squib is not an insult; it is a statement of fact."
"Pursue Attorney Dumbledore," Tuft said while he nodded.
"Squib doesn't necessarily mean without magic; what defines the existence of squibs is their inability to cast a basic spell, but not all of them are powerless. They are able to see dementors or even thestrals. You raise it with your spouse, don't you?"
"No. I raise them alone."
Her mother looked even tenser, and Medusa wondered how she knew Aberforth Dumbledore.
"Can we know where you are coming from, Wizattorney Dumbledore?" Hopkrik exasperated.
"What I mean, and my question is, did you attack Mr. Gideon Prewett?"
"Of course, no!"
"Did you kill him?"
"No," cried Medusa's mother, looking shocked. "I could never do such a thing. Rubbish, it's silly."
"I think so; you are quite capable of doing such a thing, Mrs. Riddle. You see, we know each other—you and me. We've met before at Malfoy Manor."
At that, Medusa's mother froze and looked like she was about to give Dumbledore an obscene gesture. Albus Dumbledore watched this scene with a more inquisitive glance. Behind his half-moon glasses, the old director seemed to understand where his brother wanted to go in this interrogation, and he didn't like it at all. A shiver of worry ran down Medusa's spine.
"Objection! The fact that you know my client is not a concern in itself," Attorney Black intervened. "Will you produce sufficient defence for your brother by slandering a loving mother and wife with your defamations?"
"I'm not denigrating; I'm trying to explain something to you," Dumbledore spat, beginning to get angry. "Minister, may I continue?"
"Do so, do so."
"You know, working in a tavern makes you meet a lot of people and hear a lot of things. My tavern is certainly not young, but we hear fresh news there and make some useful contacts. I know, for example, Mrs. Riddle, that you are called Apreti, a gipsy clan from Albania, and that you are not as pitiable as you claim. I can't lie; I'm on Truth-Serum too. Months ago, Mr. Malfoy ordered me a cask of my best mead to take home. As I like to be paid for and not get tricked, I brought it inside Mr. Malfoy's house, escorted by his elf. That's where I saw Mrs. Riddle's little gipsy skills. In front of a small, conquered, and transfixed audience, Mrs. Riddle danced to a thestral in Abraxas Malfoy's living room."
"What Mrs. Riddle does in her extra time is her own business," Orion Black said in panic as he began to see where he was going.
"It wasn't a dance like any other, Attorney Black. I'll remember all my life what I saw. Mrs. Riddle didn't just dance over the animal; she just… engulfed it in darkness. I had only seen this type of power once, and I immediately knew that even though Mrs. Riddle is a squib, she is quite capable of magic. Meroe Riddle is what is called a Darkblood or a Kali. Expecto Patronum."
He raised his wand quickly, and a silver ibex shot out to charge towards the woman. Medusa's mother squealed in fear and pain when he nearly crashed into her, but at the last moment, the silver shape disappeared. Her mother's eyes turned a clear blue, and her brown skin was sizzling as if burned.
Her father's hand on Medusa's shoulder clenched so hard that she barely suppressed a small moan. From her seat, Mrs. Burbage gave them a disconcerted look as whispers rumbled through the judges' benches. The girl watched her mother slowly get up with an almost demonic expression as her eyes slowly darkened. If the minister's gavel hadn't struck her wooden base to demand silence, she would have swallowed the Dumbledore in the moment.
"Dumbledore!" hissed Tuft. "What does this mean? Are you attacking a witness in the middle of a trial? How dare you?"
"This is the clearest evidence of what I was telling you about the Darkbloods."
"What is a Darkblood, Wizattorney Dumbledore?" asked a young mage named Bones. "How do Mrs. Riddle's powers relate to your client's crimes?"
"Aberforth," Dumbledore said from his seat as if to reason with his younger brother. "Don't talk about-"
But he wasn't listening to him. In his rags, he struck an almost poignant pose, exhaling other exotic and unsavoury smells from his threadbare robe, then spoke:
"We'll have to go back in time a bit. You know that the Dumbledores are an old family, and due to our seniority, certain powers may have passed down our line. Our father was convinced of this, and it was for this reason that he used Magusgenics, an ancient discipline practiced by certain old families, in order to obtain more powerful children. Salazar Slytherin would have been one of the first to take an interest in this kind of blood property. From there, we were born in turn: my brother, myself, and my sister, Ariana. Each of us received specific Gifts inherited through blood and genetics.
"What gifts are you talking about?" begged Mrs. Hopkrik, bewildered.
"Some children are born Metamorphmagus, some are born Legilimens, some just have an ability with divination, and some are just simple wizards. In this blood lottery, there are practices to ensure that you have children with gifts. My dear brother is what we call an Inferwarlock, a mage with great skill with fire and the possibility of being listened to by a Phoenix. An extraordinary power that can quickly go to your head, which happened to him, I assure you. Luckily, I inherited little power. This was of little interest to our parents until our sister, Ariana, was born. A Darkblood."
At this last sentence, the audience room tensed, and even Medusa felt that her father had taken a close interest in these revelations without forgetting his burning anger.
"Our mother Kendra had Romani blood; when Ariana was born, she had never been so happy. At home, we called the possessors of these gifts the Kalis. Kali or Darkblood, we weren't prepared for that kind of power. We have had many Darkbloods in the History of Magic without them being called such. The Darkbloods are darkness itself; they can't survive too long under the light, they agonise over a patronus, and they enjoy the twilight of winter. But they can't live alone; they need to vampirism other wizards or muggles."
From her seat, her mother was frozen like a pillar of salt and seemed about to swallow Dumbledore. She had to look behind her at her husband to avoid this fatal mistake.
"It was what Ariana had been doing since a young age. Every gesture of tenderness that we gave her or that she gave us—a hug or a kiss on the forehead—vampirized us to make her more powerful. She realised it, but didn't care. It quickly went to his head, like drunkenness. After taking away some of our strength, she managed to make us forget by playing little games in the dark. She mimicked shapes in the shadows and danced in the darkness. My brother Albus and my father tried to repress these crises, but in vain. Darkbloods aren't the friendliest wizards; they're often even drawn to dark magic. Ariana didn't have time to look into it. As I told you, Darkbloods are drawn to the dark and to... bad people. It is almost irrepressible for them—this need to seek the darkest darkness and to rise up in some."
"One evening, she left the house behind our backs and met this group of Muggle teenagers. They took fright at her powers… and totally destroyed her. From there, her magic went totally out of whack; she became Obscurial."
"Hence your devotion to the addition of the Ariana Article regarding the schooling of Obscurials," Mrs. Hopkrik understood. "This has allowed, since last year, the schooling at Hogwarts of an Obscurial."
"Edward Lee," the witch Bones added, reading a file.
"That's right," said Dumbledore.
"That's a tragic story," Tuft said, "but what does it have to do with the Riddles?"
"If you have listened carefully to this very tragic story—end of quote—then some of you are beginning to understand. My brother and client revisited his nightmares of our youth in this family and wished to intervene. Meroe Riddle is a dark magic creature attracted to dark magic. The fact that she was able to create a family therefore makes us ask the question about what she is likely to do to her family and who her companion, Mr. Riddle, really is."
"Ho-How dare you?" Her mother belched, looking scandalised.
"Mrs. Riddle." Aberforth turned to her then. "Do you love your children and your husband?"
"No."
At this dry answer, Medusa's mother took the measure of her revelations and tried to smooth things over in front of the inquisitive Wizengamot.
"I can't have love... It would destroy me. But there are many nuances to this feeling, and none of them concern you."
"I wish things were that simple, Ma'am. This is the real usefulness of Truth-Serum; you can easily override its effects, but there is one question you cannot lie to: it's love. A feeling that you probably gave up during your deportation with your clan."
Her mother froze again. Medusa noticed that the olive features of her skin had paled. Her big black eyes reflected something old and damaged that the young girl had never noticed in her mother.
"During the Second Muggle Global War, were you sent to the extermination camps with the rest of your clan because of your origin?" Dumbledore asked in a slightly softer voice.
"Yes."
"Did you attack muggles to get out of it?"
"Yes, but…it was self-defence! Wizarding laws allow it! This does not concern you!"
Her mother had taken a strange accent that Medusa had never heard in the mouth of her mother. This woman there, for the first time, in complete disarray, seemed to her to be a total stranger.
"Understand, dear audience, that because of his powers, it is to be feared that Mr. Prewett's testimony will not be as true as he claims if he has just become Mrs. Riddle's lover. So Mr. Riddle has attracted to him a creature attracted by the darkest magical and as headmaster of Hogwarts School, my brother should not take his precautions?"
"Abducting toddlers isn't a precaution; it's a crime," Black pointed out.
"To protect them. He and I know what the Darkbloods are capable of, having seen it in our younger sister. According to him, he wanted to offer them another home; a mistake full of good intentions remains a mistake, I grant you."
"Minister, I'd like to ask Mrs. Riddle some more questions," Black said after exchanging a long look with Medusa's father.
"Well done; we'll resume with your questioning later," Tuft said, not really knowing where to turn.
Aberforth Dumbledore stepped aside to let Black pass in front of him. His air of an old fox hadn't diminished, but he had a crease of concern visible between his two greyish eyebrows. In a way, he knew that by participating in this trial, he was also condemning himself to death, and he hoped to do everything possible to make the trial more resounding.
"Mrs. Riddle," Attorney Black said. "I will not have the indelicacy of my colleague, but my colleagues must understand your posture. Can you tell us about the meeting with your husband?"
She seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering in an almost toneless voice.
"After the camps, we- I was hiding... I had nothing left. No family. Nothing. They were all dead… somewhere, I would have let myself die too. No one approached the Romnis anymore; everyone wanted to forget about us. He was the one who found me; in a way, he saved me. He, too, was an orphan; he had nothing. He saved me by giving me a family. I take care of the thestrals by taking some of their strength so as not to harm them. I take fortifying potions during the day but live a lot at night. I am away from my family so as not to hurt them. I needed balance, and so I found it."
"This crap is true?" scoffed Abelforth.
"Wizattorney Dumbledore, if you don't wish to be evacuated immediately, let Attorney Black speak," a High Mage intervened next to Tuft.
"May we know what balance you have found?" Tuft asked precisely.
"My husband gives me some of his magic. Not enough to hurt him, but enough for me to see a little light in the dark."
Black, from his seat, exchanged a look with his true Master next to Medusa. Her father did not intend to intervene in the trial, not immediately. The reserve of Dumbledore, who had remained very silent, intrigued him and made him seethe. Like chess players before a chessboard of yokes of hate, they struck each other with stern blows from a distance.
"We have indeed had many Darkbloods in our history. I myself became interested in blood discipline, like many Blacks before me. Morgana the Fairy was one, and isn't the duo she formed with Merlin proof that she was not an evil witch? Merlin wasn't a Dark Mage either, but he did practice dark magic. Mr. and Mrs. Riddle have found the same balance.
"Professor Riddle sees himself as Merlin, but they're clearly not in the same league," Aberforth growled under his breath, loud enough to be heard by all.
The former Headmaster in his cubicle gave a small chuckle that froze her father with such violent anger that Medusa thought he was going to set the room on fire.
"Enough; I'm tired of your impertinence, Dumbledore. I suggest we take a break for lunch," Tuft finally complained. "The session will resume at 1 p.m.; you better calm down."
They got up quickly. Without a word, Medusa followed her father, who grabbed her mother, Prewett, and Master Black behind him. They left Professor Burbage completely confused by the stakes of this trial, which had nothing to do with the safety of the students or even her own injuries. The two Dumbledores came out, flanked by Aurors, through the opposite door.
Still without speaking, Black led them into a small room next to the courtroom, used by the criminals and their lawyer to meet before their trial. Her father silenced the room with the back of his hand before belching in parseltongue.
"You knew this Dumbledore, and you didn't tell me?"
"I didn't know his name! I saw him just a few seconds before Malfoy paid him! Hell, if you're going to blame anyone, then blame Malfoy, who invites everyone to his home!" replied her mother, whistling.
"Do not worry, he will be punished as he deserves," hissed her husband in a sharp voice.
Faced with this chorus of whistling he couldn't understand, Black was a little pale and trembling. Medusa lowered her head, her hands in her pockets. She felt Echo wrap around her wrist with a worried look. Prewett was in a corner, her eyes slavishly lowered, Medusa wondering where he had been hiding all these years. Her parents ceased their furious hissing and then turned to Black in the same mournful movement.
"Dumbledore is already finished," Black said. "We have to counterbalance what that old drunk revealed-"
"How could he have known about all this?" her father spat in a chilling anger that sent the whole room shuddering. "It wasn't me Dumbledore was researching; it was you," he hissed, turning back to his wife. "You and your passion for being the life of the party."
His eyes were only two rubies with fury, and the small room composed of a chair and a desk shook as if a violent earthquake had hit the Ministry. Medusa, like her mother, wasn't leading off. The latter had taken refuge in a corner of the room, almost hidden behind Prewett, who was trembling painfully and stuck behind the desk.
"If the show is not to your liking," shouted her mother, "it's not my fault! You said the situation was under control; how was I to know that this man was investigating me? Do you think I spoke to a single person from this country of the camps? You always wanted to put on a show too, show how much better you are than everyone else. Well, show them! Show them how good you are! What I was forced to say... by Morgana, you'll pay for it!"
"Lumos."
Medusa's father dazzled her mother's face with a flick of his wand as he shoved Prewett unceremoniously. She screamed in pain as the tip of the wand was only inches from her eye.
"Are you going to shut up?" he hissed in parseltongue. "You have said enough."
He turned away from her, and she fell back against the wall like a rag doll. With a curious desire to escape her father and a little compassion, Medusa ran near her. Her mother grabbed her hand but didn't take it to get up. She felt it drain some of her energy, and a numbness gripped her arm. Medusa pulled it away quickly and hissed.
"I told you not to do that again! Want me to susurrus it in your ear?'
"Silence!" ordered her father in a cold voice.
The two women parted, staring at each other.
"We're going to have to fight back. Dumbledore's brother doesn't like him. I felt it; they hate each other. He's not here just to try to save his brother or even to attack us. He wants something from this trial. What exactly does the paragraph they were talking about say, Black?
"The Ariana Act of the Code of Magical Restriction," Orion Black said. "'If an Obscurus is declared by a young wizard or a young witch, it is the duty of the magical community to guarantee care and education in order to keep the Secret'. Until now, it had never been applied; Obscurials are so rare."
"Aberforth Dumbledore was a Slytherin; he's not completely stupid to ignore that his brother is doomed. He hopes to gain something in this trial." Her father thought aloud.
Medusa knew that their laws were often written on a system of jurisprudence. Often, the various problems of the magical world, be they crimes or the use of magic out of control, posed moral and ethical questions to their government. Decisions were made in judgements, which then resulted in laws. Medusa and her father seemed to realise the same thing at the same time. Perhaps Abelforth Dumbledore was there to plead for his law, and if the subject touched too much on the Obscurials, Edward Daniel Lee was inevitably going to enter the argument. Consequently, her father could actually find himself in a bad position because of the inviolable oath he had taken.
"If he wants to change the law, maybe he and I can agree," he whispered. "Remember, Orion, the name of Edward Lee must no longer intervene in this judgment. We must end it as soon as possible. After Burbage, Medusa will be interrogated, and then Dumbledore will come. Arrange to let me speak for as long as possible when my turn comes. Medusa, this is your uncle Fabian; he saw you grow up. Invent the rest."
The redhead in the back of the room was being coaxed by her mother with a pitiful expression. Medusa found him very sad as his sorrel moved away from him with satisfaction.
"I want Aberforth Dumbledore's head as a wall covering," she breathed harshly.
Tom Riddle turned to his wife and gave her an icy smile.
"I'm not even sure I'm leaving you Dumbledore's body after your actions anymore," he hissed back.
"You wanted to humiliate him before killing him, that old crackpot; now he's doing the same thing to us, but you have too much ego to see it!"
With the back of his hand, he slapped her. Her mother burst out laughing as Medusa and the other two men in the room froze in terror. The aura of the room was so cold that they thought they were swallowed up in an icy abyss.
"Muggle style, cousin?" She cackled, dark-eyed. "Nazis hit harder!"
"You three, get out," her father hissed without looking at them.
Knowing very well that it was the wisest solution, they came out like somewhat disjointed puppets; their muscles exposed to the cold seemed to have atrophied. Medusa noticed she was shaking and tried to hide her condition. As the door magically closed behind them with an icy snap, Medusa leaned back against the wall. She couldn't hear what was happening behind the black stone partition and didn't prefer to think about it. Her parents could rarely spend more than a few minutes together without getting angry, and they only saw each other when one had something to ask the other. Somehow Aberforth Dumbledore was right; one was fine with the Darkbloods precisely when one stayed away from them.
Beside her, Master Black had lit his pipe and was smoking quietly, unfazed by what was happening behind the wall. Fabian Prewett was in a corner, his eyes closed, trying to breathe calmly, like a victim praying for his misery to end.
"Smoking is not allowed here, right?"
"Come on, to someone of my standing, we no longer refuse anything." He chuckled a little before continuing. "You know, Miss Riddle, a few years ago, the vision of your father interested me only remotely. He was quite simply a classmate, but then I was able to see how subtly he was able to help us slowly build a better world. More changes are coming soon, but for that, we have to turn the situation to our benefit. Your father has a plan to counter Aberforth, I guess. Is there anything else I need to know about the Rosier case?"
Medusa froze a little more.
"If the Dumbledores talk about it, what will you do?"
"I'll deny it; Mother made me practice."
"Perfect. Watch out for the old tramp. He'll attempt low blows. Keep calm. You are a victim; I know it; we know it; but the reputation of the Rosier family must not be tarnished."
"I know," she whispered through gritted teeth.
She had been told enough, and then she could get her own revenge on Percival. Her father had promised her; today she just had to see the Dumbledores being dragged through the mud.
The door opened behind them. Her mother came out first. Medusa noticed that her eyes were now icy blue; she couldn't see anything and almost staggered down the path before getting used to the dim light of the hallway. At the entrance, her father seemed to be expecting something:
"Excuse me, Master," she finally whispered, and it seemed to rip her throat out.
He contented himself with that and turned to Mr. Black, who was putting away his pipe, leaving a light thread of smoke rising slowly towards the black stone ceiling.
"After you, Wizattorney Black," Medusa's father whispered to the lawyer with a slight red glow in his eyes.
The slightly trembling Black did as he left, taking Prewett with him to give him the final recommendations if he was questioned again.
"I'm counting on you, Medusa."
With these words, he joined the two men at the end of the corridor.
"Mother, what are the camps?"
Her mother had not moved; she lowered her eyes, which had become black again on Medusa, and hissed:
"Eat, we have more to do."
She took two more chocolate frogs out of her dress pocket and left. So the young girl went after him without daring to ask any more questions. They entered the audience room a few minutes early; the Dumbledores hadn't reappeared. Black and his master were talking in low tones, with Mr. Prewett still waiting submissively nearby. Medusa went to sit next to Charity Burbage, who had been totally ignored so far.
"Were you able to eat, Professor Burbage?" she asked.
"The school elves made me a sandwich to take away. Thank you, Medusa," the young woman whispered.
Mrs. Burbage was a witch in her late twenties who had once been very pretty; now she was just the shadow of herself.
"I understood that Dumbledore was watching your family," the professor continued in a small voice. "I didn't think he got that far. It's horrific what he tried to do to you."
Medusa nodded as the Wizengamot entered the audience hall. The Dumbledores appeared in turn without glancing at them. She stood up and stuffed her chocolate frog in her mouth as Mr. Prewett went to stand next to her on the witness stand. He seemed as bothered by the smell of chocolate as if he had found himself in front of dragon dung and looked like he was trying not to vomit. The effects of Truth Serum had had time to dissipate, and Medusa was curious to know what this terrified man had negotiated to participate in this trial. If it wasn't his life, it was his family's.
"We can resume," Ignatus Tuft began, allowing them to sit down after he settled himself. "Mrs. Burbage, I invite you to come and testify."
Orion Black, struggling to hide an equivocal pout of disdain, helped the witch to the witness seat. The serum was not presented to him, as the facts were very recent.
Tuft asked him a few questions, and in turn, the two lawyers questioned him. Black made her say that she had trusted Dumbledore and that today she was severely handicapped, something that could have happened to the students, Ludo Bagman having lost two fingers following the incident.
"If Professor Riddle hadn't saved me, I would have been eaten by the creatures," she finally concluded in a pained voice.
She then glared at the old headmaster, who just smiled kindly.
"See again, despite the Dumbledores' favourite defamations, how Professor Riddle's quick response prevented a catastrophic situation," Black purred, and many of the Wizengamot seemed to approve. "I have no further questions."
Abelforth Dumbledore exchanged something with his brother, then dropped the questioning.
"I'm calling Miss Riddle now," the Minister whispered softly, as if he were digesting a hearty lunch.
As Black led Burbage back to his seat, Medusa stood up. She stroked Echo's head in her pocket with the tip of her fingernail to give herself courage as she sat down in the witness seat. From there, she was right in front of Albus Dumbledore.
"Miss Riddle is still an undergraduate witch; we can do without the Truth Serum," Black whispered.
"Given the seriousness of the accusation and the age of the victim, Miss Riddle will need some serum," Mrs. Hopkrik countered. "If she was just a child, some key memories may be revealed this way."
"I grant the use of Truth Serum," Tuft finally said impatiently.
Medusa had expected it and took the bucket that the auror, who looked like Kingsley, handed her. The brew had no taste like this potion. She waited for the Minister to speak while the former headmaster looked down at his long fingers.
"Remind us of your identity," he ordered.
"Medusa Antigonia Riddle, born December 21, 1951, sister of Salazar Atchel Riddle.
"Thank you, and I leave the floor to Wizattorney Black."
"Miss Riddle," the lawyer said calmly. "Do you corroborate the version described by Mr. Prewett and your mother?"
"Yes," she said quickly. "I was little, but I still remember two men jumping on us when we were with mom. They wanted to pull us to an alley and Apparate. Salazar let go of our mother's hand, and Manila attacked Mr. Gideon Prewett. After that, there was a ray from heaven that hit Manila and Mr. Prewett, so we fled with Mom. From there, Uncle Fabian went with us to the house."
She punctuated her statement with a small smile of circumstance to this stranger who claimed to have lived with them for the past ten years. Like a well-trained horse, he responded to that smile with a slightly more incongruous expression.
"What has been your relationship with Professor Dumbledore since you came to Hogwarts with your twin?"
"Remote," Medusa whispered. Professor Dumbledore tried to talk to us; if that happened, I told our father, but he kept quiet for several months. I admit I was scared in this castle with him, but I trusted our parents because the truth would be revealed.
"Thank you, Miss; no further questions."
Her tongue tingled slightly at the half lie, but Medusa managed to get past it. It was then up to Master Dumbledore to step forward on his old canes, which jutted out of his threadbare robes.
"Miss Riddle…"
He stood in deep thought, and Medusa tensed, fearing the question that was about to come. Dumbledore had warned his brother that she was legilimens and the latter kept his eyes quietly downcast on her crooked smile.
"Sooo, are you okay?"
"No."
The answer came out quickly, and Medusa knew she wasn't lying, even without the serum. Puzzled and bewildered, Medusa tried to say something, but the younger Dumbledore cut her off.
"It was important to start there, because it seems to me that you are not doing very well and that no one seems to be worried about it."
"Objection," Black spat, "that man's value judgements are irrelevant right now."
"Rejected," Tuft growled. "The moral state of this young girl could have been affected by what the accused Dumbledore has done in the past and by the events she experienced during the Acromentula attack. But be more concise, Wizattorney; it's been a long day, and I'd like to get it over with quickly."
A few members of the Wizengamot had the good taste to be a little irritated by this remark, while others seemed to approve. The Dumbledore gave them an unclear apologetic smile with blackish teeth before continuing:
"Did Professor Dumbledore try to explain himself to you and your brother at Hogwarts?"
"Yes, but as I told you, we never spoke for more than a few seconds. We kept away from him."
"What exactly did he tell you?"
"That he wanted to save us or whatever other nonsense and 'help us'."
"Do you think he could have helped you? Do you need help?"
"Of course not," she exasperated as her tongue crackled more.
Abelforth Dumbledore was close enough for her to smell his dirty old man scent, and it made her wrinkle her nose in disgust despite herself. Behind her brother, her former director looked her straight in the eye, this time with great compassion. This froze her with anger as the lawyer resumed.
"Your parents were never violent with you? You've probably seen your mother's powers before, haven't you?"
"Never. The powers she has, she doesn't use them on us," she lied, feeling her tongue burning her a little harder. She swallowed quietly.
"Why did you come here today, Miss?"
"So Professor Dumbledore won't hurt other children anymore."
"Have you ever seen him hurt other children in school or elsewhere?"
"No," she whispered. "My survival instinct often tells me not to follow the old crackpot who tried to kidnap me," she finished, then more acidly.
At that, Aberforth chuckled, and for a second, their eyes met. He seemed to give her a conspiratorial and mental wink. Medusa had her parents behind her; she ignored their expression but could almost feel their chilling aura behind her back.
"Miss Riddle, please," Amelia Bones said softly, "a little respect in this chamber."
"Did my client come to see you shortly before his dismissal?"
"No."
"Really ? Didn't he try to help you?"
"For what his help is worth."
"I agree, but you recognise that he tried to help you?
"No," she hissed, because it wasn't a lie. "He never tried to help us. Never. If that's what he says, I don't believe him."
Dumbledore, in front of her, was looking at her enigmatically. Medusa couldn't read his mind, but that tune annoyed her to no end. The blue eyes in front of her seemed filled with pity and compassion, and it was something she wanted to see disappear from the face of the earth forever because it ignited such a searing burn in her that she wanted to scream.
"You want to hear him explain himself," the younger Dumbledore said.
"I want to hear the truth," she hissed harshly. "Give us a home we already have. What did you want?"
Like an automaton, Albus Dumbledore stood up in front of the assembly and said with a small smile:
"It is true that I had an interest in removing you from your parents. Given the power of your parents, I saw potential in you two. I was hoping to point you in the right direction so that you don't get overwhelmed by this power like I was. I was not mistaken; you two have powerful gifts."
"Mr. Dumbledore, please sit down. You weren't interrogated," Tuft exclaimed.
"My client was under the influence of Miss Riddle's gift. She also has gifts. She is able to subjugate those she stares at for too long."
"That's false; I didn't use-
"Do you recognise that you have a gift? Which can overpower certain people?"
"… N-Yes."
Medusa bit her tongue, and Aberforth Dumbledore turned victoriously back to the Wizengamot.
"Hear me when I say that Mageugenics can be a double-edged sword. If the gifts obtained by Miss Riddle are not the result of chance, this kind of practice is strongly discouraged. Some powers can be dangerous in the wrong hands. Miss Riddle is a Susurrus, able to whisper orders to anyone who meets her gaze, sometimes even without being aware of it. An ancient and dangerous power. Our wizarding powers are a blessing but, when misused, a curse. This is what my brother thought he perceived within this family, hence his decision to act. I would like to interview my client from now on. I have no more questions for Miss Riddle."
The Minister nodded, and the Wizengamot High Judges whispered amongst themselves. When Medusa returned to her seat, she saw her father's expressionless appearance. He looked like a marble statue and wasn't even looking at her anymore; his black eyes were focused exclusively on Dumbledore. Medusa went to sit next to Charity, who, behind her scars, gave her a comforting little smile.
Dumbledore took the scoop of veritaserum from the silver tray and drank it eagerly before setting it down gently with his long, gnarled fingers.
"The floor goes first to Attorney Black. Master, the Defendant Dumbledore is yours."
"Thank you, Minister. Professor Riddle embodies excellence in every way throughout his career; he is one of the youngest professors to have ever taught at Hogwarts. How did he earn your suspicions?"
"I don't deny Tom's talents," Dumbledore said softly. "I was young too, and I know the vices of arrogance. Tom always seemed suspicious to me about his attraction to dark magic."
"Could the slightest incident be blamed on him?"
"Yes," whispered Dumbledore, pursing his lips. "He convinced Mr. Lee, the young Obscurial, to follow his own treatments. I suggest you ask him what they are, Mr. Black."
Black forced himself to keep a straight face as Medusa's father raised an eyebrow. By his side, his wife was silent, confined in darkness.
"Have there been any notable incidents with this Obscurial since?"
"No," Dumbledore whispered slowly.
"Which must be a nice change for you," Black scoffed. "How would you describe Tom Riddle to Hogwarts students?"
"Fairly indifferent, except in some who he saw potential. I think he gives them some private lessons whose content makes me wonder."
"Did you have any complaints about it? Professor Riddle is within his rights to want to advance some students. So you decided to abduct children on mere suspicion?"
"I saw the potential of Salazar and Medusa Riddle's gifts. I feared that such power would be dangerous in the hands of Mr. Riddle, so I made this decision. Mr. Prewett passed away, and Fabian suffered a lot of torment because of me. I am guilty of kidnapping, fellow Wizengamot, though I have no doubt that before the end of the day I will lose my job, but to protect them. I will never tolerate harm being done to my students or to children."
"My question is, then, do you think your blatant negligence and good intentions haven't done enough harm?"
"Objection," Abelforth interjected. "This remark seems to establish a will to hurt; my client was busy looking for Grindel-
"Rejected. Dumbledore, please answer."
"I tried to do my best," he whispered.
"Mrs. Burbage and your students will remember it, I am sure. I'm done, Minister."
It was up to Abelforth to interrogate his client in front of the Wizengamot. There was still the same strange tension between them. It sounded like the elder was silently asking his younger brother not to make a regrettable mistake.
"Do you deny being behind the murder of Gideon Prewett?"
"Exactly," agreed Dumbledore. "I would never have killed that boy. Unfortunately, I didn't see exactly what happened. As I watched them from the roof of Borgin and Burke, I found myself in a blind spot in the alley. Mrs. Riddle was close to Gideon. There was a big black flash, and Mrs. Riddle walked away, following her children and her elves pursued by Fabian. By the time I joined them below, they had disappeared, and Gideon's body was lying on the ground."
"Have you tried looking for Fabian Prewett?"
"Of course. I was very close to them; they were brilliant young men. But he had literally vanished."
Fabian was shaking all over his body at these words, and he seemed to be hypoglycemic. Medusa offered him a chocolate frog, as much out of mischief as out of curiosity. Prewett's disgusted and terrified look at the chocolate frog didn't give her much satisfaction. She put it back in her pocket as the man tried to pull himself together.
"Do you think Professor Riddle is a danger?"
"Yes. I was hoping to convince Mr. Rosier to take a look at the activities of the Epsom Derby, but by some fortunate or unfortunate game of fate, Grindelwald got into it and destroyed everything. It's quite a riddle for me."
Dumbledore gave them a small wink. Medusa didn't even dare glance at her father a little higher on the benches.
"So you have no proof," Tuft pointed out. "Nothing. You attack a family on simple suspicions and because of your history. Proceed with your pleading, Attorney Dumbledore. After everything we have heard, I think we are in a position to make our decision."
The two Dumbledores still seemed to be arguing in whispers. The younger of the two brothers acted with a sort of contrast of hope and despair. He raised his nose ungraciously, then returned to the middle of the hemicycle.
"Very well," said the threadbare Dumbledore. "I am aware after all these revelations that the faults of my brother and client are numerous. Understand that they were committed out of arrogance but also out of a desire not to see the sufferings of our youth repeated. Gifts like the powers of a wizard can be dangerous because they can be unexpected and uncontrollable. Miss and Mrs. Riddle showed it to you earlier. My client clumsily tried to protect these children; although we didn't ask him, I'll grant you that too. Maybe the Riddles are a perfect little family to live in. Maybe. The crux of the matter is that in order for such misjudgements to never happen again, we need to consider revising our Magical Restriction Code. The prohibition of Mageugenics must be enacted because these are dangerous practices for morals, ethics, and children that result from them. This Code is also there to protect young wizards, isn't it? My brother can't avoid his sentence, but at least we can protect future generations of wizards. Chance takes care of gifts, not mixtures. Thank you."
"Attorney Black, do you want to add anything?"
"First and foremost, my client would like to speak."
At that moment, her father got up calmly, having put on his charming look. Medusa knew that in these moments he was as dangerous as a Basilisk because he displayed a strange charm that could bewitch anyone weak-minded with just a glance.
"Mr. Riddle, you've been very quiet since the start of this trial," noted Mrs. Hopkrik, who no doubt still hoped for a happy ending for Dumbledore.
"Indeed, I wanted to let my family explain what they had experienced because it was something necessary, as much out of modesty as out of a desire to approach the truth as closely as possible. You see, Professor Dumbledore and I never liked each other, and when Professor Dippet hired me, I hoped to have a professional relationship with him. This hope was perhaps due to the naivety of my youth, and it almost cost me mine. But despite our differences, these are two visions that oppose us. We could even say two schools. Mr. Dumbledore scolds me for using dark magic, but that is precisely what has allowed my wife to survive all these years despite her gift. No doubt she would have died like all young wizards with epiphenomena of magic—without adequate support, I mean. Gifts are only a problem when they are made into curses. That's how the Dumbledores see it—like a curse, not me. I think that knowing how to understand them and knowing how to master them would be beneficial for the wizarding world since, as you said, Master Dumbledore, the gifts are also a variable of chance. Just as Muggle-born wizards are born, so many talents are born; they are just a result of magic itself."
Aberforth Dumbledore watched his opponent with a critical and fierce eye. Looking homeless, Medusa thought he was going to spit in his face. Behind him, Dumbledore was not giving his former student a look and was showing polite interest to the clerk in full concentration, seated not far from his cubicle.
"My approach to magic allows me to understand these powers. It's magic itself, and how could we repress something innate? Sorcerers are born with it, and it is the very meaning of magic. There is no white magic or black magic; there is only power. There are good deeds and bad ones, however, and I have no doubt that former Professor Dumbledore will have shown you that even the supposedly purest magic is not spared from dubious deeds. Power meets power, and some wizards are able to master it. Dumbledore does not seem to fall into this category because, with this choice, he could have saved his sister."
Aberforth's eye turned red, and he quickly pulled out his wand as if to hex Medusa's father. Several members of the Wizengamot stopped him in time with a common movement by immobilising him with a spell, while Medusa's father continued:
"After losing his son Credence the Obscurial, Aberforth Dumbledore passed this paragraph, and I understand his will. The extraordinary power of this illegitimate son has caused damage to the Secret Magic several times in the past. I would like to propose another solution to the dilemma before us. The gifts and the magic being innate, we can supervise them by people able to control them if their magic... derails."
"You're proposing a Guardian and Guardianship system," Amelia Bones asked, frowning a little worriedly. "A wizard or a witch in charge of dealing with problematic cases?"
Aberforth Dumbledore was released from the spell, and an auror approached him to pull him to a bench. The younger Dumbledore was shaking with rage.
"Definitely. If the School Board, Mrs. Burbage, and my family participated in this trial, wasn't it ultimately for the protection of the children of the school? Obscurials and possessors of gifts must be supervised for the greater good."
Dumbledore, who had always kept this calm and detached look, was very pale for the first time. It looked like he had suddenly aged a century, and finally he deigned to look up at his former student.
They clashed silently for a few seconds, as Tuft seemed to be thinking despite the difficulty of the exercise for him. Some Mangemagot members were very intrigued and interested in this proposal.
"We have already used this kind of principle in the past, but in exceptional cases!" cried Hopkrik, a little panicked.
"According to the Code of Magical Regulation, the magical community must give resources and assistance to any young wizard, not counting the paragraph Ariana. Professor Riddle has shown that it is possible to control and cure the torments that magic can cause. Master Black intervened in his pompous voice. Let's evolve our way of looking at things. This is progress."
"I see," murmured the Minister. "Thank you, gentlemen. The High Court will now retire to deliberate."
The High Judges left their tribune in short, hurried steps in their red robes. Medusa had the image of the red ant colonies that she found with Salazar near the roots of trees in their garden when they were children. This trial was sealed; she knew it. However, the words of her father and Attorney Black had triggered something cold in her. Her mother in the stands was boiling with anger; her eyes were almost completely black in the darkness. Even Charity, by her side, seemed upset.
The two Dumbledores had not moved; surrounded by their aurors, they were talking in low voices. This time the two were clearly arguing, and the older one was terribly angry. Medusa had never seen his features so furious. Thus, he was indeed very impressive and had nothing to do with his usual look as a nice director. Seeing that mask fall pleased him, and her father watched with a sneer at Black.
The High Court appeared, and all rose slowly.
When Tuft was seated, he read a note from his folder in a clumsy voice, as if struggling to decipher what his jurors had decided.
"The Wizengamot High Court finds the defendant, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, guilty of all counts, including murder and attempted kidnapping, and sentences him to an irreducible life sentence in Azkaban prison. His seat in the chamber of the Wizenmagot, as well as all his honorary titles, are withdrawn from him forthwith. Mr. Fabian Prewett walks free from his special position as a key witness. The High Court will soon consider a draft law following Paragraph Ariana concerning the application of guardianships. Take the prisoner away."
"No!" shouted Abelforth, forgetting all decency. "Don't be completely stupid; you'll violate wizarding rights with this law!"
"I told you so," Dumbledore sighed as he allowed himself to be escorted by the two aurors.
"For now, I'm just waiting for my dinner and my bed. The commission will sit soon; if you wish to join the debates, you are welcome," answered Tuft mockingly while rising. "If you don't get jailed first."
Dumbledore was dragged outside. He was still so calm, as if that no longer concerned him. Had he given up? Did he already know he was dead? Medusa ignored it, but she realised that the verdict hadn't mattered to her. She didn't feel happiness, anger, or anything.
Like an automaton, she stood up as Master Black went to help Mrs. Burbage out of the room. Her mother came down from the stage with the same upset expression she had had when Dumbledore told her about his past.
The trial was over, but as they looked at each other for the first time, they shared something. A feeling much heavier than this austere and dark courtroom. What had just happened was serious.
"When they start giving us special statutes, that's where the troubles start, Medusa."
Her mother had thought so before composing a pout as neutral as possible and finishing her descent of the stairs. The other Dumbledore had cleared the floor, and the girl wished he had already packed his suitcase because he was now at the top of the list of her parents. Medusa saw that her father was chatting with Tuft near the exit, with the two Gazette reporters beside them.
"Tuft is so mediocre; he keeps the Prophet under his thumb to hide most of his antics," her mother whispered. "They are discussing what will be revealed in tomorrow's edition."
Medusa thought that the worst would not be revealed between the pages of this puritanical newspaper, but that the worst was yet to come. They finished talking, and her father called out to them. They eventually joined him. Fabian Prewett was waiting near the entrance when an old red-haired man with features quite similar to the young man arrived.
"Mafalda sent me a message... Fabian... Is that you?"
"'Go and join your father, Mr. Prewett; you have been separated for so long."
"Thank you, Professor Riddle," the redhead muttered, shaking his hand with downcast eyes.
From there, he threw himself into his father's arms, while a tall blonde woman with a very long neck and another plump redhead threw themselves into the arms of the two redheads. Medusa recognised her as she walked away with her family. It was Molly Prewett.
"I thought I'd never see you again," cried the young girl against her eldest. "Are-you-are you-w-well?"
"Yes, Momo, I'm fine," sighed Fabian, hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry, so sorry."
Her father hadn't said a word, while her mother silently brooded over her anger. After everything that had happened today, she only wanted to sleep and wake up months later. Perhaps the situation would finally seem clear to her.
"I had to fix your mistakes," he breathed irritably as he grabbed both of their arms.
"I'm always amazed at what you call repairing, my love."
Medusa could have sworn she saw her progenitor's eyes glow as he Apparated them. The moment Medusa and her mother's feet hit the ground, they had the common reflex to pull away from the dark mage next to them. Her mother had torn a hairpin from her bun and planted it furiously in the palm of her husband, who hissed. He snatched the pin from his hand brutally, as surprised as he was furious at this surprise attack.
"Gadzo Dilo!" she growled.
Meroe then stormed off into the darkness of the swamp as Medusa rushed inside. He wanted to punish them both for revealing certain things during the trial and would have to choose. He preferred to go in pursuit of his wife, and he changed into a thick black mist in a howl of rage.
Medusa ran to her room without stopping, locked herself in there, and cast a spell on the door to protect herself. She doubted the spells would last long, but it was better than nothing.
She turned around, barely calmed down, as her father's scream of rage filled the house, and she saw Salazar on her bed.
They greeted each other without speaking. Medusa rushed to the bed to hug her twin. Her father's scream of rage continued as they heard their mother's giggles echoing around the house. They shivered together and pulled away. Echo delicately curled around Salazar's wrist to calm herself down. He had felt the turmoil of the humans around him all day and didn't understand the situation, and Medusa had no words to explain it to him. Sal seemed to feel it as he gingerly stroked the little reptile with his fingertips.
"How was it?"
"Very bad, Sal. Something horrible is going to happen, and I was part of it," she confessed.
There was a breaking noise and the cry of a tortured elf, no doubt because he was in the way. For a second, they heard their father's silhouette pass in front of the door and stop there. They froze anxiously. He finally left, casting an angry spell when their mother's giggles were heard from the bottom of the swamps. In the middle of the night, in this cursed swamp, their mother was powerful enough to continue this kind of game for a while. We had to wait to see who would give up first, but Medusa was in no doubt about the identity of the winner of their 'squabbles'.
Salazar was sending him many diffuse and scattered thoughts, among them a lot of sadness and anger, but above all, a myriad of tree-like thoughts about his guilt.
"I hid what Percy did to me; you couldn't know," she whispered. "No one must know."
"Why?"
Medusa almost hated him for asking that kind of question.
"Because I… I… should have been able to stop him," she cried. "I should have done something; seen it coming, right? Sorry… Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you."
Her brother looked at her with devastated eyes. He understood her need even before it was clearly formulated in her head. He took her more firmly in his arms. He wasn't often comfortable with physical contact, but between them, it was natural as a way to protect each other.
That didn't answer her question, but it stifled a bit of the emptiness she felt inside her. Sal smelled of pine and honeysuckle; she let herself be lulled by his arms, wanting to forget everything.
They heard their father screaming and their mother snickering in the darkness, but for the moment, they were alone together. So, they were fine.