Ch 58 - Venom

Remus awoke feeling as though every delightful thing he'd ever experienced was being absorbed up by a great, terrible sponge.

He perked up rather quickly when he realized how frigid he was. Shivering violently, he pried his eyes open. It was so dark that the only thing he could see was his own breath in the air. Someone was dragging him through a dark corridor, but he heard no footsteps on either side of him - only drawn out, sort of clicking breaths. He managed to raise his head enough to glance at a skeletal, decaying hand latched onto his bicep.

He jerked up fully and was met with the ghastly void of a dementor's hood.

"Wait, wait, WAIT, WAIT, WAIT-" he shrieked to no avail. Even the sound of his voice was being sucked from the atmosphere. He spun to the other side where a second dementor had hold of him. "PLEASE, NO- PLEASE-!" He began to thrash in their grasp, kicking his legs out in front in an attempt to slow their death march.

Amid his useless flailing, the dementor to his right twisted around so that it was facing him, and for a moment, Remus felt as though his consciousness was being extracted from his body through a straw. Everything in his vision began to close in around him, and he passed out again, falling limp into the grip of the dementors once more.

The next time Remus came to, it was because he'd been thrust to the rocky ground. While he was trying to recover from the feeling of being siphoned into the abyss, he recognized the distant sound of metal clinking behind him. Feebly, he turned and saw bars.

He was being locked in a cell.

He was in Azkaban.

By the time he peeled himself woozily from the ground, the dementors were already drifting away down the corridor. He yanked on the bars, knowing this would do nothing to make them budge, but the effort of standing up and moving after his run in with terror incarnate was enough to make him lightheaded again. He hunched over, now holding on to the bars so he wouldn't fall to the ground.

Feeling a cold sweat coming on, he brought his hand to his forehead and noticed he was wearing a striped inmate's garment. He didn't think he'd ever felt worse in his life, prison cell or not. This was more than just an absence of happiness; he knew that feeling. This was something worse. This was despair.

"Moony…"

Remus flinched when a voice like sandpaper called to him from the darkness of the next cell over.

"Moooooonnnyyyyy…" it cooed.

And just when he thought it couldn't get any colder, his blood turned to ice.

Slowly, he straightened up and turned back to see two dirty hands wrapped around the bars connecting the cell next to his.

Remus spun back toward where the dementors had gone and shouted into the corridor. "Put me somewhere else!"

Sirius Black emerged from the darkness adorning a nauseating grin. "They won't listen."

"Get me out of here!"

"There is no ' out of here!" Black screeched, his voice resonating off the rock and battering Remus' ears.

Staggering back, Remus met his sunken eyes. Those eyes had stared Prongs in the face, called him his brother, then stabbed him in the back. They'd taken advantage of Lily's kind, trusting heart and drawn up plans for her demise. They'd watched as he blasted Wormtail to bits.

Remus was consumed with a white-hot rage that made his whole body quake. It thawed the frost in his blood, and in a sudden burst, he rushed the adjacent cell, trying to snare Sirius in his clutches. He thrust his arms through the bars, smacking his head against the iron, but just missed Sirius before he backed up.

"Too slow," Sirius tsked. "Never there in time."

"I'll kill you," Remus snarled, grunting as he tried to squeeze through the bars and rip him apart. "I'LL KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID!"

Sirius rose and strode about his cell like it was his throne room. "Looks like it's just you and me, Moony-"

"-YOU BASTARD-!"

"-Sleeping in the next bed over, just like the dormitory days."

The fact that he had the gall to mention their time at Hogwarts was revolting. How could he have done what he did if he remembered even an ounce of what they'd all been through together? "How could you-...How could -...they-...PETER WAS YOUR FRIEND!"

Sirius rolled his eyes in annoyance, completely devoid of regret. "Stupid sod. He just got in my way really, and let's be honest, I think I did everyone a favor."

"JAMES AND LILY TRUSTED YOU! YOU ORPHANED YOUR GODSON!" He was beginning to scream himself hoarse.

"The Dark Lord showed the Potters what happens when you defy him," he corrected him matter-of-factly, hanging his arms out the bars of his small window in the rock. "All I did was point him in the right direction."

"IT MIGHT AS WELL HAVE BEEN YOUR WAND THAT TOOK THEIR LIVES!"

"And where were you, hmm?" Sirius questioned, whipping his head back toward him.

Remus' arms stilled. "What?!"

"I may have let their secret slip, but you weren't there to protect them," Sirius reminded him, coming away from the window.

"I-...I had orders from Dumbledore-"

"You had your orders. I had mine."

"NO, I-...I didn't mean-"

Crouching down to get on Remus' level, he grinned again. "You walked away. You killed them, too."

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"

Sirius only laughed.

"YOU'RE A MURDERER!"

"Well what exactly are you in here for, Remus? Where's that pretty girlfriend of yours?"

Remus turned his back, slumping against the bars. "Wake up, wake up," he whispered to himself.

"Oh, that's right." Sirius chuckled darkly. Then, he let out a shrill, mocking howl up at the moon.

"Just a nightmare…it's just a nightmare…"

Suddenly, Sirius' voice was much closer. "Would you like to join her?"

Before he could turn, Sirius reached through the bars and hooked his arm around Remus' throat-

Remus shot up off the mattress, grasping at his neck. Before he could utter a word, Emmeline tossed her book aside and enveloped him in her arms.

"Nightmare," she murmured, kissing him. "Only another nightmare."

Remus clutched her firmly to ground himself back in what was real. "No kidding…"

"How bad?"

"Really bad," he breathed, suddenly very grateful that he could breathe freely.

"It's over now," she whispered, rubbing his back.

He'd been having dreams of this nature on-and-off for the last month. Violent, vivid dreams, always having something to do with the events of Halloween, or Emmeline becoming a casualty to his disease; or both, apparently. Now, as they entered February, Remus wondered if he'd ever find the will to make the nightmares stop.

With Emmeline still in his arms, he scooted back down onto the mattress, noticing the sunlight dappling her face. "What time is it?"

"Nearly ten."

"At least I didn't wake you in the dead of night this time," he rejoiced mirthlessly, leaning his head back onto the pillow and closing his eyes again.

"I did it to you loads of times last year, it's alright."

Registering the time again, Remus opened his eyes, looking puzzled. "Shouldn't you be at the Ministry?"

Emmeline looked guilty. "I took the morning off from the practice range. Wanted to finish my book."

"That's what you wrote to Alastor?"

"No, but one little white lie won't hurt him."

Remus glanced at the book on the nightstand. She'd been reading Great Expectations, but he suspected she would never pick it up again after Halloween, so she'd opted for another Dickens. "Still on A Tale of Two Cities?"

"Mhm."

"You must've read it a hundred times."

She ran her fingers up and down his arm. "I know, but each time I keep hoping for a different ending."

"That Lucie would end up with Carton and fix him, or that he wouldn't go to the guillotine for her?"

"I don't know. I suppose a bit of both."

"...Is that really why you took the morning off?" He wondered if something else might've been wrong.

But Emmeline grinned against his shoulder. "...I just couldn't bear to leave the bed with you in it."

He cracked a smile, too. "No?"

She snuggled even closer. "Nope. You're far too warm."

"Glad to be of service," he muttered.

"...How are you feeling?" she asked. No doubt the symptoms would start soon.

Since he'd just woken up, he took a moment to assess himself. "Alright. A bit run down, I suppose. The joints are bothersome, but that's not unusual." He would feel much worse after the transformation, so he wasn't complaining. He wished he hadn't taken the ease of the potion for granted.

Back in January, Remus' final transformation on the Wolfsbane had been spent at home with Emmeline by his side. She'd turned the day into an occasion so he wouldn't feel so depressed, and even cooked him up a breakfast feast like she used to. After the full moon rose, she spoke and read to him all night long to take his mind off everything. With his head rested in her lap, she ran her fingers along the tuft of fur on his scalp. When she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore, she fell asleep on the floor curled up against him. It was the first time in his life Remus could recall wishing the full moon wouldn't fade so quickly.

"That reminds me," she remembered, rising from the bed and breaking out in a chilly trot to her bag, returning with a handful of manila envelopes. "I was doing a bit of snooping yesterday and found some options as far as your transformation goes."

He sat up, bracing his elbows on his knees. "Now, I have to ask, when you say 'snooping,' what exactly does that mean?"

She curled her lips into each other. "...I may have poked around in Records…" she mumbled, raising her hands up in defense. "Just a bit."

Remus eyed her disapprovingly. "...Records isn't your department."

"Well I can't see why they'd miss a few files on uninhabited houses. I'll drop them back off today after we look."

Since New Years they'd been searching in and around Exeter for places to take him on the nights of the full moon, but so far, nowhere suitable had turned up. Emmeline seemed to have taken action to widen the scope of their search. Before he could protest further, she climbed back into bed and laid out three file folders, opening each one to photos of abandoned residences. Remus poured over the photos, thinking of the shack and shuddering.

Emmeline went down the line from left to right. "This one is okay, but if you look in the corner here, I think it's surrounded by other homes - though they may be empty too, I'm not sure. The square footage of this next one sounds too large, I wager it'll have too many possible exit points. I think the last one might be our best bet. I know it looks sort of run-down, but it's on a few acres, and doesn't seem so big that I wouldn't be able to keep track of the perimeter."

Remus considered his next words carefully.

"It's near Ipswich. I thought we could go see it tonight…" Emmeline proposed. "Even if it isn't the final choice, maybe it could work just for this month-"

"-This doesn't feel right," Remus confessed, picking up the photo.

"...Would you prefer one of the others?"

"Not the house. This whole plan doesn't sit well with me."

Emmeline huffed a sigh. "I know it doesn't, but it's the best one we've got."

"This was someone's home. I mean, I destroyed the shack-"

"We have to find you somewhere else to transform safely. I can't just keep you here in a body bind curse all night long; it'll be painful, and they wear off on you too quickly. I'll come in once the sun's up and set everything in the house right with a mending charm." She took the photo from his hands and set it back down.

He reached under her pajama shirt where the scars were. "That's another thing; I really don't like the idea of you waiting outside all night-"

"-Remus we talked about this-"

"-like a sitting duck, especially if you're not familiar with the weak spots of the house yet-"

"-someone has to make sure you're okay-"

"-I just- I don't like this. I don't like it at all."

"I wish we had another option, but we're running out of time. The full moon's next week-"

"I know it is," he accidentally snapped, covering his eyes with his palms.

Emmeline reached up and ran her fingers through his hair to soothe him.

He let go of the breath he was holding on to. "I'm sorry." He didn't want to argue with her.

"...Can we at least go see it?" she petitioned him. "If it's not right, we'll visit one of the others tomorrow."

"...Alright."

She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "We're going to figure it out."

He nodded, biting down hard on his tongue.

"I'll put the kettle on for you," she offered, returning the folders to her bag before heading into the kitchen.

Remus supposed he ought to get up, too. "How did you even get in to the Archives?" he called to her as he rose from the bed, wincing.

"I paid attention in Concealment and Disguise. The door opens for the training staff, so I imitated the instructor's voice."

Remus tried to swallow an impressed smile as he came into the kitchen. "I'm starting to get the sense that you're a menace at work, you know. You'll give poor Alastor a coronary one of these days."

"Alastor is fine, he's a menace in his own right," she said as she rummaged in the fridge. She set down the jug of milk she was holding and looked up at him earnestly. "I know you disapprove, but I'd do anything to help with your transformations…"

Swallowing hard, Remus admired her with longing in his eyes. "I know you would…"

"And if a bit of mischief is required, so be it," she declared through a sideways grin, closing the fridge.

He looked away somberly. "You sound just like James."

Emmeline's smile faded. "I often find myself wondering what they would have done."

Remus cleared his throat, changing the subject as he traipsed into the front room to pick up the paper. "When do you suppose you'll complete your training so that you don't have to 'snoop' in other departments anymore?"

"Oh that's right, I'd forgotten to tell you: Last week, Alastor said if I keep working at this same pace, he doesn't see why they shouldn't graduate me later in the summer," she informed him over the stream of coffee she was pouring herself.

But Remus registered neither the sound of the coffee, nor Emmeline's voice. His ears suddenly felt as though they were filled with cotton.

He'd picked up the Daily Prophet and noticed the lead on the front page.

SAVAGE WEREWOLF FINALLY BROUGHT TO JUSTICE

"WIZARDING BRITAIN CAN SLEEP BETTER AT NIGHT"

As of Saturday morning, the Magical Law Enforcement Squad has apprehended a dangerous, delinquent werewolf after a month-long search. The beast, known to some by the name William Albury, 47, was detained and taken into custody following the vicious massacre of his family on the night of last month's full moon. Albury, formerly an owl trainer, claims he was attacked some time ago by a werewolf in the ranks of He Who Must Not Be Named. However, due to his negligence to register himself with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, proof of this cannot be substantiated. On the eve of January 9th while his family slept, Albury, fully transformed as a werewolf, broke free from his restraints in the basement. He proceeded to attack his defenseless muggle wife, Maureen Albury, and their two daughters, Felicity and Christina. Maureen and Christina were found dead at the scene. Felicity was found still breathing and taken to St. Mungos, but later died of her injuries. Mr. Albury has been on the run since January 10th, and was finally arrested in Manchester by the Hit Wizards. After a swift trial before the Wizengamot, Albury was sentenced to life in Azkaban.

IF YOU ARE AWARE OF SOMEONE WHO REMAINS AN UNREGISTERED WEREWOLF, PLEASE CONTACT THE DEPARTMENT FOR THE REGULATION AND CONTROL OF MAGICAL CREATURES, LEVEL 4, MINISTRY OF MAGIC, WHITEHALL, LONDON, GB.

Remus grimaced at Albury's mugshot. He looked sickeningly average.

"...Don't you think?"

Emmeline's voice and the crescendo of the kettle ripped him from his reverie.

Remus folded the newspaper under his arm and tried to get a hold of himself. "What?" he called back into the kitchen.

"I said maybe once I graduate from training, I'll have more leverage to request a day off from work each week. Don't you think that'd be nice?"

"It would, yes." He played off his panic expertly.

"I just want to push myself until I reach the finish line. Everything should slow down a little when I no longer have to attend classes."

Remus forced a smile as he came back into the kitchen. "Completing three years of work in the span of months would be no small feat…I'm so proud of you."

Emmeline looked bashful. "Frank and Alice paved the way. I just followed in their steps."

As she said this, Remus hid the paper.

…

After breakfast, Emmeline begrudgingly got ready to leave. She really would have rather stayed home so they could make more progress on their planning.

Remus came into the bedroom after she'd dressed in her base layers and watched her attentively from the doorframe. He was not surprised to see that she had selected the green shawl to wear; it was now a staple in her wardrobe.

She was nearly finished, so a goodbye was in order.

"Hey," he said, mantling his arms over her shoulders from behind as she was fastening her cloak.

Emmeline cracked a smile. "Hey yourself."

He planted a kiss onto her neck. "Have a good day."

"Well now I really don't want to leave," she thought, patting his arm. "I'll see you when I get home."

Remus rubbed his lips together for a moment of consideration.

Then, ever so softly, he said: "…I love you."

Emmeline's fingers stilled around the last clasp and she turned to face him, her smile gone. "...What?"

"...I love you."

With her lips parted in disbelief, she glanced back and forth between his eyes.

"What's the matter?"

She had to un-tie the words from her tongue. "...You haven't said that in a long time…"

For a moment his eyes darted to his shoes; but he changed his mind and raised them back up to her. "I know. But I'm saying it now."

"...Say it again…" she bade him, studying his face.

He reached up and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "...I love you, Emmeline."

"...I love you too…" she whispered.

A small, grateful smile broke through his pensive expression. Drawing her closer to himself, Remus kissed her goodbye.

When he pulled away, Emmeline didn't want to let him go.

"You'd better get going before Mad-Eye sends a howler," he jested, releasing her.

Unsure of why, Emmeline felt the need to comfort him. "We'll figure this out. It's all going to be okay."

He nodded. "You're right."

She kissed him once more, then took a few steps back, allowing herself another moment to assess him.

"Go on," he encouraged her, smiling again.

"See you tonight?" she asked.

"See you."

…

Emmeline made the trek up to Auror Headquarters in a haze.

When she came through the oak doors, there was a sort of unusual buzz about the cubicles. People were standing in little clumps, whispering nervously to one another, but they all stopped once they noticed her arrival. Emmeline's brow furrowed.

One of two things was happening: Either her boldness to come in late had caused a stir, or someone had noticed her taking the files yesterday, and she was in a world of trouble. Either way, she froze. She couldn't very well sneak back into Records now.

Kingsley hurried toward her from the back of the cubicles. "Vance."

"What's going on?" she asked, her eyes surveying everyone.

"...You haven't seen it, have you?"

Her stomach turned. "I just got here. Seen what?"

Kingsley walked her back out into the hallway, down towards the Wizengamot Administrative Services. On the wall outside the offices hung a magical docket, a twin to the one on the tenth floor, displaying all the cases being heard in the courtrooms for the day.

She had to do a double-take at the lettering on it.

MINISTRY OF MAGIC v. MALFOY - 2pm

"Hang on, that can't be right. The trial's not supposed to be for another week and a half."

"They pushed it up," he informed her grimly.

She whipped around to gawk at him. "What!? When?"

"Just in the last twenty minutes. Crouch sent down a memo."

"They can't do that without giving us more advance notice!"

"That's what I thought too. I've never heard of this happening."

"We've got to talk to Alastor," she decided, pivoting and striding back towards Headquarters at a clip.

Kingsley matched her pace. "I haven't been able to get his attention, he's trying to figure out where the change came down from-"

He was interrupted by Alastor's bellowing from inside the oak doors. "SHACKLEBOLT! VANCE! IF I DON'T SEE YOU BOTH IN HERE IN THE NEXT MINUTE, I'LL TURN YOU TO-"

"-Here-!"

"-We're here-!"

They'd dashed up behind him before they could learn of their likely creative but gruesome fates.

"My office," he growled, stalking in between them on his way back out to the corridor.

They followed mutely.

"This cannot possibly be allowed," Emmeline protested once she'd closed the door behind herself.

"It isn't," Alastor fumed. "The Wizengamot Charter of Rights states that no changes shall be made to a trial date without at least twenty-four hours notice."

"And the Charter definitively applies to the Council as well, right?" Kingsley asked.

Alastor began to pace around his desk. "Up until now, there has been a precedent that the Charter applies to all the inferior courts, as well as the Wizengamot." He seemed to hear himself and clenched his fists in frustration. "Merlin- I hate all this legal rubbish!"

"They may argue that since it's not explicitly stated, it could be considered a loophole."

"That would open up a can of Flobberworms from hell; the case would go to the Wizengamot and we'd be stuck in there litigating for weeks before they reached a verdict on Malfoy, if they even reached one at all."

"Maybe that's what Lucius wants," guessed Emmeline. "Maybe this is a stalling tactic."

"No," Alastor determined. "The longer Malfoy sits in a courtroom, the more attention it draws to him - attention he doesn't want. There's something else going on…"

The door to the office opened, and Amelia Bones poked her head in, panting. "Alastor, Crouch is back from Level One."

"CROUCH!" Alastor shouted, hobbling out of the office grumbling insults with Emmeline and Kingsley at his heels.

He caught him down the corridor. "What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?"

Crouch looked exhausted, and not in the mood to argue. "The decision came from well above my head, Moody."

"Above your- YOU'RE the head of the Department, or have you forgotten?"

"Lucius Malfoy is to be present at a fundraising gala for St. Mungos with Minister Bagnold on the ninth. She personally asked for the trial to be moved up so that it wouldn't interfere."

Emmeline's entire face suddenly became very hot.

"What?" Moody spat.

"Why in Merlin's name would the Minister invite him to an official event?" Kingsley questioned, horrified.

"She seems to think it will promote reconciliation."

"I wasn't aware we were in the business of reconciling with death eaters."

"Or accepting their filthy money!" Moody seethed.

"We both know that since the start of the war, the hospital has needed to increase capacity-"

"Why do you think that is, Barty? They kept torturing people and landing them in there!"

"I don't need a summary on the last ten years Alastor, I was there! Like I said, it's out of my-"

Emmeline shoved herself to the front and got right in Crouch's face, interrupting him. "Why is the Minister so certain he's going to be able to attend the gala after the trial?"

Crouch didn't say anything.

Emmeline turned back to Mad-Eye, her eyes wide with realization.

Lucius had already snaked his way into the minds and pockets of whoever he needed to to make sure he was not going to Azkaban. The surprise change of date would ensure that no press attended, and that the opposing counsel would be unprepared.

This whole thing was a set up.

"We'll just have to get it over with. I'll see you all at two," Crouch muttered, waving resignedly and piddling off to his office.

"What do we do?" Emmeline asked, hoping that Mad-Eye might have a solution.

But Alastor just stared after Crouch, looking like he was about to burst a blood vessel.

"Maybe we should bring up the Charter," Kingsley suggested. "At least that way, we can drag it out and buy ourselves more time."

"If the Minister's behind him overriding everything, filibustering over a loophole won't make any difference," Emmeline countered. "What do we do?" she repeated, now with more desperation in her voice. "Alastor!"

"I'm thinking," he snapped, resurfacing from his trance and taking each one of them by the shoulder. "...We stick to the plan, and proceed exactly as we would have if it were on schedule. This isn't just a procedural blunder, it's a power move. Lucius is trying to play games. We can't let him know he's rattled us."

Kingsley shook his head. "I'm not ready, Moody. I don't have all my notes in order-"

"Bring whatever you have prepared. You'll testify first, then Vance will close. You have…" Mad-Eye glanced at his pocket watch. "…just over two hours."

"Helga help us," Kingsley exhaled.

…

The clock in the courtroom ticked louder than ever before.

At five to two, the Council began trickling in and seating themselves. Crouch and a Court Scribe came in sometime after.

Mad-Eye had prepared her for how she should speak. Facts only, no feelings. The Council would hear facts, and nothing else.

She didn't have any notes to order like Kingsley. Her memories were vivid enough to keep straight, she just had to present them in the right way. She'd gone though that day in Knockturn Alley over and over in her head, and she would never forget the day they took her friend from her.

Malfoy had been behind it all.

Not a moment before two, the click of Lucius' snake-headed staff could be heard down the hall outside the chamber. He strolled into the courtroom like he owned the place, not bothering with the chair meant for the accused in the center of the floor. Nobody reprimanded him as he sat in the benches across the chamber from the jury.

Emmeline could've lit him on fire with her stare. The bloodthirst roiled within her like it never had before.

He could play all the games he wanted, it wouldn't change her story. She wished she had more time to mentally prepare herself, but if it had to be today, she'd make do.

Just after him, the Minister of Magic strode in, taking her place in one of the upper benches. She observed them all from an aerial view.

Sod the gala. The Minister could not look her in the eye and let him off the hook once she heard what Emmeline had to say.

He would go to Azkaban. He had to.

A short time after, a man Emmeline did not recognize came in.

"Bollocks," she heard Alastor curse under his breath.

Nothing about this man's appearance jogged her memory. His pale skin contrasted his slicked-back dark hair, and his mustache was trimmed to precision. It was not hard to guess that he was wealthy, seeing that he was wearing an expensive, velvet cloak and was associating with Malfoy. "Who is that?" she whispered, watching him get settled in the bench next to Lucius.

"Cain Selwyn. Not a death eater, but definitely a supporter, if only with his gold. He'd rather pull strings from the top than get his hands dirty."

"Why's he here?" asked Kingsley.

"He may be representing Lucius."

Emmeline looked back at the man, puzzled. "Is that bad?"

"I don't know, but it's not good ."

Seemingly out of nowhere, a strange sensation filled Emmeline's head, like something had just skittered along the outer edge of her mind. She blinked rapidly, wondering if she'd imagined it.

The sensation subsided as soon as it had come on. She brushed it off.

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

Mad-Eye was right. No press. No spectators. Just Crouch with his Scribe, the prosecution, the defense, and the Council. Just like Lucius wanted.

They closed the doors.

…

Opening statements were read.

Kingsley testified, and Emmeline thought he'd conducted himself so well, you would have never known the trial date was tampered with.

Now, it was her turn.

"The Council calls the second witness forward to testify."

Alastor gave her a reassuring nod as she passed him on her way to the floor. He trusted her.

When she arrived at her spot before the Council, her eyes moved to Lucius. She was going to burn him like he burned her.

"State your full name for the Council," said Crouch.

"Emmeline Vance, witness for the prosecution."

"What is your role in the Ministry, Miss Vance?"

"I'm an auror in training, but my testimony pertains to my time before I entered the program."

"Very well, you may proceed."

"This is for you, Marlene," she thought.

It was for them all.

Caradoc.

Benjy.

The Prewetts.

Doe.

Edgar and his family.

Peter.

The Longbottoms.

James and Lily.

Her father.

Emmeline planted her feet firmly on the floor. "Last summer, I was a part of an operation which sought to prove Lucius Malfoy's affiliation as one of Voldemort's death eaters," she began, speaking with the authority of someone far older than twenty two. Many people in the courtroom cringed at The Dark Lord's name.

"Can you recall the details of your operation?"

"The events I'll be referencing took place on, and just after July eighteenth of last year. I was tasked with following Mr. Malfoy to wherever his meeting was to be held."

"Were you working alone?"

"No," Emmeline reported with anguished pride. "I was accompanied by Marlene McKinnon." She turned to the Council. "You may remember reading about the McKinnon family's murders."

"Objection, relevance," Selwyn's plummy voice called out. He hadn't even looked up from his fingernails.

"Sustained," Crouch declared.

"It is relevant," Emmeline insisted. She caught sight of Alastor up on the bench holding out his hand, reminding her to remain measured.

"Very well, proceed."

Emmeline took a deep breath. "Mr. Malfoy came through the Leaky Cauldron at about eight o'clock, just before sunset. Marlene and I followed him down into Knockturn Alley."

"What was Mr. Malfoy's intended destination?"

"Borgin and Burke's."

"Anything out of the ordinary about his stop at the antique shop?"

"As a matter of fact, there was. I witnessed him revealing a dark mark tattoo as a means of entrance to a meeting." Emmeline chewed on the words, savoring them.

The Council members began whispering among themselves.

Selwyn stood up, addressing the Council. "Mr. Malfoy was found not to have any sort of tattoo on his arm as of last August, so either the witness is confused, or lying-"

"I'm not lying-"

"It's not your turn to speak, Selwyn," Moody grumbled.

"Was it not you who checked his arm, Mr. Moody?"

"I will remind the Council that transfiguration magic can easily conceal a tattoo!"

"Order," Crouch tutted. "Let the record show that the witness may have seen a tattoo, but no such tattoo was found following the incident. Please proceed, Ms. Vance."

Another deep breath. "After I saw his arm, I was discovered, and we were pursued through Knockturn by seven death eaters. We had to escape before we were able to gather any more intel."

"Anything else?"

"Yes," said Emmeline, arriving at the final nail she would hammer into Lucius' coffin. "Three days later, a squadron of death eaters led by Donovan Mulciber came to my residence to make an attempt on my life. A second squadron led by Cyrus Travers was sent to assassinate the McKinnons. While I was hiding, I overheard one of the death eaters implicate Lucius Malfoy as the catalyst for the attack. He sent Mulciber to kill me, and Travers to kill Marlene and her family."

The whispering grew louder. Emmeline knew for a fact that several of the members who sat on the Council had known Clyde McKinnon.

" I'm going to make you wish you had killed me too," she thought, glaring at Lucius again.

"Thank you, Ms. Vance. You may return to your seat."

Emmeline turned from Lucius, nodded, then scaled the benches back to her seat.

She did it. Now the Council just had to make the right choice.

"You did good, Vance," Alastor whispered, patting her on the knee.

"The Council calls the third witness forward to testify."

Now, it was Selwyn's turn.

He glided down to the floor from his seat, smiling confidently. Too confidently, Emmeline thought.

"State your full name."

"Character witness for the defense, Cain Selwyn."

"Proceed, Mr. Selwyn."

Selwyn directed his spiel not to Crouch, but to the members of the Council. "Lucius Malfoy is not the monster he had been painted to be."

"Merlin, here we go," breathed Kingsley.

"I should not have to remind this Council that Mr. Malfoy may go down in our history as one of the most generous philanthropists of our time, having recently donated a large portion of his personal resources to St. Mungo's Hospital."

Emmeline drummed her fingers as he spoke. None of this could subvert the facts she'd just given.

"Now, we have all heard Mr. Malfoy being accused of acting as perpetrator during the recent conflict. I am here today to tell you that he was not, in fact, a perpetrator; but like many among us, a victim. "

"Victim my arse," Moody said under his breath.

"Mr. Malfoy simply fell victim to the disastrous manipulation of the imperius curse, as stated by the death eater Donovan Mulciber, who named Mr. Malfoy in his confession during his court proceedings before this body."

Moody rose. "Objection."

"On what grounds?" asked Crouch.

"Mulciber named everyone and their mother in his confession, including death eaters later found guilty and sentenced to Azkaban!"

"Fine. Sustained."

Selwyn cocked an eyebrow. "But, as we can see, Lucius Malfoy remains a victim to this day - of a campaign of character assassination, led by people who were, unfortunately, very personally hurt by the conflict. Their intentions may be good, but their attempts to smear his name are misplaced." He turned from the Council, his gaze settling directly on Emmeline. "With your permission Mr. Crouch, I'd like to cross-examine the second witness."

Her stomach dropped.

Crouch looked at Alastor, who was shaking his head vigorously. Then he looked up at Minister Bagnold.

"Very well. The Council calls Ms. Vance back to the floor."

Emmeline stood reluctantly, turning to Mad-Eye for guidance.

"Whatever you do, stay calm and don't let him get in your head," he hissed. "Don't give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of you. That's what he wants."

She nodded. She could tame the bloodthirst long enough to do that.

As she reached the floor, Selwyn motioned for Emmeline to sit in the chair for the accused, the one Lucius had yet to touch. She didn't know what else to do. Lowering herself into it, she wondered if its chains would bind her.

But it was not the chains that encroached on her personal space; as soon as she sat down, something that felt a bit like a large needle poked at the forefront of her mind. She sucked in a sharp breath, caught off guard by the intrusion. What was that?

Noticing her change in demeanor, Alastor seemed to sit up taller in his seat.

"Ms. Vance, did you know Mr. Malfoy during your time at Hogwarts?" Selwyn asked, casually pacing in front of her with his hands behind his back.

"No, we…" Emmeline cleared her throat. "...we only overlapped one year." She wasn't able to focus on much else outside of the unwelcome presence at the front of her mind. So far, it hadn't rummaged through anything, it was only letting her know it was there. Her eyes darted around the courtroom, searching for who was doing this to her.

Her focus landed on Lucius.

"So you are relatively unfamiliar with him, outside of the events you described?"

She shifted in her seat, trying to expel the needle but unsure how. It was affecting her ability to come up with coherent answers to Selwyn's questions. "I suppose…" She could recall feeling something like this sensation before, but couldn't place it.

"Ms. Vance, this operation you mentioned - under who's authority were you acting, if not the Ministry's?

Before she could argue the question, the needle pierced into her mind, extracting Albus Dumbledore's image without her recalling it, then retracted.

Emmeline's entire body tensed at the intrusion. She swiveled back to Selwyn and glared at him wide-eyed.

Alastor stood up. "I thought it was made very clear to the defense that questions of that nature were not to be asked of the witness. That information remains classified."

"Yes, you're right. Strike Mr. Selwyn's last questions from the record."

"I understand completely, Mr. Crouch."

"Proceed."

This wasn't coming from Lucius. During the intrusion, she'd gotten a better sense of its origin.

"Whatever you do, stay calm and don't let him get in your head." Alastor had told her.

She didn't know she would have to take his instruction so literally.

When Selwyn met her gaze, grinning, the needle was poised to strike again. Regaining her nerve, she attempted to put up some sort of mental wall, but had never been trained in that sort of magic. Was this allowed? Should she tell Crouch?

No.

She couldn't.

If she began shouting about what he was doing to her, the Council would write her off as a loon. If she wanted the trial to proceed, she had to sit there and endure it.

"What was the nature of your relationship to Ms. McKinnon?"

Even as she was reeling from his first trespassing, her lip curled up at him.

But her menacing stare did nothing to stop the needle from puncturing her flimsy wall and sifting through her memory once more. Meeting Marlene in class first year. Studying for O.W.L.s. Training together. Singing Celestina Warbeck at the top of their lungs. Scrambled eggs. The doting auntie club.

Whatever he was doing to her, it hurt , like a hyper-concentrated migraine . Emmeline gripped the arms of the chair, grunting.

Kingsley muttered something to Alastor.

"...Do you need me to repeat the question?" Selwyn offered, entirely relaxed.

"Marlene…like I said, we worked together," she answered him, her voice labored.

"But she was also your friend, was she not?"

"Objection, leading."

"Sustained.

"I am sorry for your loss." Selwyn directed his fake sympathy to the Council and gave her a moment of reprieve.

The minute he turned back the needle went deeper, bypassing barriers in her mind she thought she'd fortified, even to herself. The pastries on the ground. The fire. Smoke. Ash. Burnt flesh.

But it didn't stop there; the needle began injecting images into her mind that were not from her own memory.

She saw Travers beating Marlene.

She saw the green light of a killing curse fly towards her.

Emmeline gasped, squirming in her seat, digging her nails into the wood of the chair's arms and squeezing her eyes shut. She tried to push him out, but was powerless to stop the attack on her mind.

"Were you there the day she died?"

She saw them start the fire.

She saw the McKinnons lying dead on the floor.

"Get out of my head," she gurgled.

"I do beg your pardon Ms Vance, you'll have to speak a bit louder-"

"Yes, I was there," she barked, prying her eyes back open and refusing to give in to him. It was no use. The needle remained. Just get through the questioning. He can't keep this up forever.

"Ms. McKinnon was not the only friend you lost to the conflict last year, was she?"

"Objection! Relevance!"

"It will bring me to a point, I assure you."

"Overruled."

Once more Emmeline swiveled to Lucius, who sat smirking at her with revolting satisfaction. He'd never gotten the chance to punish her for her insolence that day in Knockturn; she'd hidden herself away. Now, he was finally exacting his revenge.

This wasn't his trial.

It was her execution.

"Please answer the question, Ms. Vance."

She couldn't let him win, but she didn't know how to stop Selwyn.

"No," she wheezed, looking up at Alastor pleadingly. "She wasn't."

The next time the needle came for her, it moved much slower, like it had to go through a bowl of thick, gelatinous porridge before it reached her. Selwyn squinted and twisted around to Alastor, who was focusing very hard on her forehead.

"Can you elaborate on that?"

The needle wound back up and stabbed harder than it had before, loosing the bonds of Alastor's projected protections and hitting Emmeline with its full force. It split apart and pierced every raw, terrible corner of her mind simultaneously so that her worst memories all came rushing back at once: The moment Alastor told her about James and Lily. The Potters' cottage, destroyed. Their caskets going into the ground. Peter's miniscule burial plot. Sirius' face. Alice and Frank's deadened eyes.

Emmeline's heart was thumping so hard and so rapidly, the blood pressure seemed like it would burst her head open if this went on for much longer. The needle pressed even further, seeking out her most vulnerable moment.

Blood.

Blood on the bed sheets.

Twinges in her belly.

Choking on tears.

She could not stop herself from crying. Her mask was beginning to crumble.

Still, the needle went deeper. Selwyn would not relent until he shattered her like he'd been instructed to.

Bidding farewell to her father on platform nine and three-quarters. McGonagall coming to fetch her from class to deliver the news. Her first brush with loss. Leaving school for the funeral. Her mother's endless guilt. So many tears.

Her whole body began to shake.

"Ms. Vance? Are you feeling alright?"

"For God's sake, make it stop," she whimpered, her voice thick and childlike.

"CROUCH! Put an end to this at once!"

Then, the needle stumbled upon a layer of something in her mind that wouldn't give way. Inquisitively, it tapped the barricade, gleaning just one name that tumbled from it.

Remus.

Oh my God, no.

No no no no no-

By this point, Emmeline was crying so hard, it felt like her throat was closing. Alastor was too entrenched in his shouting match with Crouch, and Selwyn's curiosity had peaked; he wanted to know what secrets lay behind the only door that seemed locked to him.

At the earliest sign of invasion, her subconscious had constructed a barrier around every mention or memory of Remus. Even deep in her mind, she protected him with her life. Selwyn would have to obliterate her consciousness before she gave him access to Remus' secret.

She lurched forward in the chair, physically trying to push Selwyn out of her brain. Get out get out get out get out-

The needle drove itself into the door, trying to break through it like it had everything else. It wound back and tried again. Then again.

The force of his mind trying to break down hers pushed her back up against the chair. Everything around her vision began to darken. She was going to pass out. He was going to wipe out her consciousness altogether. She was going to end up in St. Mungo's next to Frank and Alice, and Lucius was going to pay the hospital for it.

Finally, Emmeline lifted her chin and loosed a guttural scream as she threw every ounce of her strength into expelling Selwyn from her head.

She hunched over, sobbing, unable to catch her breath as the Council murmured and gasped, disturbed by her outburst. Even Crouch looked unnerved.

The needle was finally gone. Left in its place were tremors all over her body, heart palpitations, and nausea that came on so suddenly and so severely that she nearly gagged.

It didn't matter that he hadn't been able to access that last layer of her memory, delicious as it would have been to see her writhe. Selwyn had already accomplished everything he needed to.

"Mr. Crouch, I move to disqualify this witness."

"You piece of shite!" Alastor raged.

Kingsley rushed down the benches toward her.

Crouch was smashing his gavel. "I will have order!"

"He's a bleeding legilimens!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"He sent her into a fit!"

"Ms. Vance is clearly too affected by her tragic experiences for her testimony to be considered reliable-"

"She gave reliable testimony before you barged into the darkest parts of her mind! None of this can be borne! A new trial must be arranged!"

"Sit down Alastor!"

"I'll make you squirm for this, make no mistake-"

"Moody, one more word and I will remove you from this courtroom permanently!"

The memories Selwyn had disturbed still floated on the surface of Emmeline's mind like leaves on a pond. She was back in the fire, and she was back on sobbing on the floor of her kitchen.

"Vance," Kingsley said, grabbing one of her shaking hands. She squeezed it weakly, desperate for a life ring out of her terror. "Emmeline you have to sit back up-"

"It's evident that we've all had enough for the day. I suggest we conclude these proceedings and put this all behind us-"

"Malfoy still needs to be questioned!"

"I mean it, Alastor! Hold your tongue!"

Emmeline began heaving. She could feel the bloody sheets, and she could feel her desk in Defense seventh year. It was as if he had torn her apart and left the pieces of her in varying forms of her own personal hell.

Crouch looked to Alastor, who appeared ready to strangle him. Then he looked up at Minister Bagnold.

"I ask the jury to raise their hands if they believe that Mr. Malfoy should serve an Azkaban sentence."

"Don't do this, Barty!"

Emmeline sucked her sobs in, grabbing onto Kingsley's arm and craning her neck to look at the benches.

Not a single member of the Council raised their hands.

Lucius stood and left the courtroom, having never said a word.

…

"C-collop-port-tus."

She locked herself in Alastor's office, still heaving.

She couldn't be alone in the lavatory.

Her cubicle was too open.

She needed to stow away somewhere small and dark and quiet.

"James and Lily have been murdered." Crying harder than she ever had before. Never getting to say goodbye.

As if she were half her age, she shakily lowered herself to the ground and crawled underneath Alastor's desk. It was no use, she still couldn't catch her breath. She couldn't regain her sense of what was real.

The smoldering house. Marlene's pearl necklace. Never getting to say goodbye.

She'd left Kingsley and Alastor downstairs. They wanted to drag her to a healer, but the thought of more poking and prodding made her panic surge, so she disapparated. She wasn't really sure why she'd picked here, she just wanted to be alone.

The blood. The sheets. Never getting to say goodbye.

Remus liked to joke that she had a knack for legilimency, but she knew now that it was only intuition. Real legilimency was violent beyond belief. She'd never felt so desecrated.

"There's been a terrible accident." The other student's faces when she returned to school. Never getting to say goodbye.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop," she whined, rocking back and forth. It was all happening to her all over again, all at once.

"Vance," came a muffled voice behind the door. Someone rattled the handle, but she didn't hear. She wasn't really there in the office.

Now she remembered; it felt a little like when Voldemort spoke in her head at the port. That had brought her to her knees, and yet it had been a mere glimpse of the torment she knew now.

"Alohamora."

She hardly noticed when Alastor and Kingsley charged into the office.

"Wait outside," Alastor directed. Kingsley looked conflicted but obeyed, shutting the door behind himself.

Alastor heard her sniveling under the desk and rushed around to meet her on the ground.

She could sense that he was there, but he felt so far. "What's" gasp. "happening" gasp. "to" gasp. "me?"

"You're having an episode. Selwyn did it to ye on purpose."

"I failed," gasp. "I let him get in my head."

"It's not your fault. If I had known what he had up his sleeve, I never would have brought you into that courtroom today."

"I failed them all," gasp. "it's all my fault-"

"No, lass. The entire damn justice system failed them."

"I can't-" gasp. "I can't breathe-"

He took hold of her shaking hands. "Look at me, Vance."

She couldn't. He had come to tell her that her friends were dead.

"Look at me."

Slowly, her eyes found his amid the whirlpool of her suffering.

"I'm going to breathe with you. Focus only on your breath. We'll do it together."

Emmeline nodded.

"In through your nose."

He inhaled. Emmeline tried to follow him with her spasming breaths.

"Out through your mouth," he exhaled.

She huffed whatever oxygen she had out.

"Again. In."

The breath stuttered less on its way in.

"Out."

It left with more ease.

"Again."

He sat breathing with her until the memories sank back into their depths.

Emmeline looked around her, making sure she was actually there in the office.

"I'm gonnae take you to St. Mungos, then we'll get you home to rest for a few days. I'll take care of Selwyn."

He tried to help her up, but she resisted.

She closed her eyes to collect her splintered thoughts. "It's as if the war didn't make any difference. It's as if they all died for nothing," she whispered.

Alastor sighed. "I know it must feel that way when the memories are so fresh."

"Lucius is free…I told them what he did, and he still-" She took a deep breath like Alastor taught her. "I don't know if I can do it anymore. I fight and fight, but it feels hopeless. It never ends. It never brings them back."

"Emmeline, it's never going to bring them back…"

She blinked, releasing a tear.

Feeling for her, Alastor leaned forward and took her face in his hands. "Not in a way you can see or touch, but they're all here with you still. They're here right now." He looked around them, took a shuddering breath, then smiled. "I can see Meadows shaking her head at me from the corner, disappointed that I've not come up with something more cheerful to say."

Emmeline twisted to where he was looking, but there was nothing. She sniffled. "Really?"

His gaze shifted, and he looked over his shoulder. "And Potter's just behind me to my right. He was breathing with us. Just cracked a joke about how you can take the captain from his quidditch team, but he'll never stop checking on his players."

A cry bubbled up out of her; but this time, it felt good.

"Mckinnon's to my left, down on the ground. She's so glad you're still around since she can't be."

For a moment, Emmeline thought she could feel her, too.

"And Evans is right next to you. She's got her hand on you. Said she won't let go." He took one of his hands from her face and laid it on her shoulder. She clasped it like it was Lily's.

"How do they look?" she asked through her tears.

"Grand."

Emmeline bowed her head, and now that she could breathe, the tears streamed effortlessly. She'd jumped so quickly from wartime into her training, she realized she'd never given herself the chance to finish mourning for them all.

"They're still fighting alongside you. You have to be their voice since they can't speak anymore. It isn't fair that the task should go to you so young, but it's your burden now."

She nodded.

She would be their voice.

She could do it.

Swallowing away the sentiment, Alastor nodded once and helped her off the ground. This time, she didn't oppose him.

Remus. She wanted Remus.

"Can I go home?" she requested.

"You need to be looked at."

"I'll see the healer; but first I need to go home. Please…"

Alastor chewed the inside of his cheek, wary of letting the damage to her mind persist longer than a day. "...You're to go to the healer's first thing in the morning, then you're to take the rest of the week off. Do you understand?"

"Yes, thank you."

"I don't want to see your face 'round here till Monday at least. I mean it," he grumbled, pointing a finger at her and reverting to his usual demeanor.

Emmeline smiled a little, lowered his hand, and hugged him. "Thank you," she said again.

She felt him squeeze her back.

…

It was nearly dusk when she apparated back to the entryway of the flat.

"I'm home," she called, her voice strained. She let her bag drop from her grasp and kicked off her shoes, then shed her cloak. She wanted nothing more than to wash the whole day off of herself with a long, hot shower, and to lay next to Remus. Now that she had time off, they could go to Ipswich tomorrow after the healers.

The flat was quiet.

She gathered her hair into a bun on the top of her head as she walked. "Remus?"

The kitchen looked undisturbed. Perhaps he was napping.

"Rem-..."

She came to an abrupt halt when she got a look at the bedroom.

His chests were gone.

His bookshelf was cleared out.

His half of the closet had been emptied.