disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, just Arabella and her story.
So sorry for not updating sooner. So much has happened in the past year that made me not want to write. I got COVID, found out someone was stealing this story under a different name and didn't even bother to change out Arabella's name in so many of the chapters, and for a while it came out that this site was shutting down? It felt so terrible, all of those things.
BUT I'm back now and I've been working on this chapter for a couple weeks. I'm getting back into that writing groove. I'm not sure if you're going to like this chapter. The majority of it feels like a character study into Arabella and Harry, and then there's the trials. Regarding the trials, let's just go with it. We know the wizarding system is not great.
Trials and Tribulations
Grace Chin sat in the middle of the conference table, surrounded by the elder members of the Wizengamot, all of whom were thrice her age and unwilling to give up their seats for a new generation, preferring to be miserable and ensure everyone around them were as well. They looked down upon her as they entered the room, their noses pointed up as though she reeked of dung. She was sure she was being punished by a higher deity who loved giving her headaches, and if deities do not exist, then she had rotten luck.
The meeting had started around an hour ago, and they were still arguing and screaming about the first point of order – the dismissal of Stellan Avery and Canute Rowle.
The two older men sat glaring at Arabella as everyone else fought for them to stay, screaming about their merits at the younger girl, as though it was all her fault and not a matter of biasness or partiality – or even nepotism that got all of them their seats.
Grace glances at Arabella. She liked to think that, after all these weeks, she could surely read the girl better than most, if not a handful. Arabella's eyes bore around the table, wondering but sharp, memorizing every single person standing up for close allies of You-Know-Who and Death Eaters.
She recognized the look on Arabella's face and remembers entering the Ministry years and years ago with Robert Trenholm, hoping to make a meaningful change, and then getting plummeted by Ministers and officials and old purebloods who believed they had more of a say because of their D.N.A. She and Robert had fallen into line, both hoping that in doing so, they would climb the ladder faster and do what they could until their heart was content. The Ministry took this as a sign of triumph and awarded them titles – Head Auror and Head of Magical Law Enforcement – and they dreamed of this once upon a time. Dreamed of getting here and making generational change and their efforts being recognized and rewarded accordingly. They used to stay up late and whisper all the things they would do over pints – two young kids desperate and hopeful, tipsy and far too bold for their own good.
They were tired now. Too tired to burn it all down and shake the foundation. They saw all the different ways the system had been corrupt, the tradition that cannot be written away, the way people like Avery and Rowle and Malfoy and Greengrass snuck their way into the Ministry under the guise of kinship and made this place their home. So many of their colleagues left, angry and burnt out. Robert was thinking of early retirement, too tired to play politics and dreaming of a lifetime on that beach. Grace just hoped to survive the week. They were old and time was a tricky little thing.
But as Grace glanced over at Arabella, she felt something warm in her chest.
The Daily Prophet had spent weeks writing about every minute of the war, reliving gruesome moments of the Battle, and questioning whether the Ministry was even capable of sentencing these Death Eaters, perhaps they lost their nerve – some things never change, huh? – but in between all these feeble reports were the gems. Reports of teenage rebellion and resistance found their way onto the third and fourth page – or in the case of The Quibbler, the front page. She spent weeks reading article after article, and that's when the embers began to flicker within her chest. She read about Dumbledore's Army and giggled terribly at the name, and of all the kids who stood up with raised chins, fists, and wands, with nothing to lose and more nerve than anyone sitting at this table. She read about the new generals of Hogwarts – Lovegood and her nargles, Longbottom standing tall like his parents, and Weasley's wicked Bat-Bogey Hex – Lee Jordan and his clever radio show, a certain student with a knack for pyrotechnics, smaller kids sneaking back into the castle to fight, crazed alumni leading the charge on broomsticks, and Susan Bones took on multiple Death Eaters!
She read and consumed everything she could, especially of Arabella, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger, and old stories of them – how they saved Nicolas Flamel's stone at eleven, Potter killed a basilisk at twelve, hundreds of dementors swarmed them and an innocent Sirius Black, Potter won the Triwizard Cup, and they told the truth about You-Know-Who from the start. Older students and alumni retold the stories and knew the four of them were out there winning the war.
"They're inseparable, always getting into trouble," Terry Boot told journalists. "We don't know what they were doing out there, but we knew they were fighting and that Potter would win and save us."
It mentioned Ronald Weasley beating Professor McGonagall in chess at eleven and risking his life, Hermione Granger stealing ingredients from a teacher and brewing a Polyjuice Potion in their second year, Harry Potter casting a Patronus before the N.E.W.T. students, and Arabella Black becoming a registered Animagi before seventeen (the paperwork was a bit funky, but Grace did her best to make sure she stayed out of Azkaban – times of war and all that, innit?)
There is tradition within these walls, systems that have been here for centuries to push people like Grace out. As she looked towards Arabella – fists clenched under the table, her loose clothes hiding secrets, her lips curled with mirth – Grace knew as long as the embers within her flickered, she would stay and fight, and she knew she had a few more good years ahead. Arabella was waiting to burn it all down, to disinfect these walls, destroy the roots, demolish the old, and rebuild.
There was a fire within Black, Potter, Granger, and Weasley, a fire that burned and yearned. A fire that started when they were eleven, and it changed the world.
"It is absolutely disgusting that you would even consider speaking to Stellan and Canute like that, girl!" sneered Phineas Parkinson. Pansy seemed to have inherited his bull-like face, and Arabella felt immensely sorry for her.
How silly of me, Arabella thought. Here I thought Death Eaters were disgusting…
"Do you have any idea how many trials Mr. Avery and Mr. Rowle have presided over?" Hector Fawley said in a gruff manner. His ridiculously bright yellow hair and eyebrows contrasting against his equally ridiculous red face.
What a strange thing to boast about, especially since so many innocent people were just released…
"Doesn't look like she can do much of that," Eunice Max whispered loudly to Claudetta Bulstrode, both of them throwing Arabella a disgusted look.
Arabella looked down at her watch. The meeting had started well over an hour ago, they were still arguing over Avery and Rowle, Kingsley and Trenholm promised they would be here soon, they were severely late, and she was terribly hungry. It would be an oversimplification to say she was having a horrible time, surrounded by the so-called esteemed and elder members of the Wizengamot. 'Esteemed' was now a word without meaning amongst Atticus Greengrass, Augustus Longbottom, Beatrice Burke, Brunhilda Stokke, Canute Rowle, Chester Montague, Claudetta Bulstrode, Eldon Rosier, Ernst Hawkworth, Eunice Max, Hector Fawley, Marcus Flint Sr., Muriel Prewett, Phineas Parkinson, Priscilla Brown, and Stellan Avery.
She had hoped to gain an ally in either Muriel Prewett, Augustus Longbottom, or Priscilla Brown. But the first thing Ms. Prewett mentioned to her was her swollen ankles, Mrs. Longbottom was stony and quiet, and Ms. Brown backed Avery and Rowle immediately. At least Elphias Boge, Gavroche Ollivander, Gertrude Abbott, Griselda Marchbanks, Mandira Patil, Muhammad Shafiq, Phillip Macmillan, and Tiberius Ogden seemed to understand reason.
"Silas Avery and Thorfinn Rowle will be on trial," Gavroche Ollivander looked up from his parchment. "It is only natural that Stellan and Canute will not be part of these particular trials, isn't that right?"
He looked pointedly at Arabella and Grace.
"That was exactly what I was going to say," said Arabella, her right hand holding up her temple, "if I was allowed to finish my thoughts. It is a matter of conflict and something the Ministry should avoid, especially if we want a fresh start."
"See?" said Gavroche, his wrinkly face breaking into a wide smile. There were liver spots on his face and hands. He was older than the wandmaker, but Arabella did not know their relations.
"And what of your own relations?" Atticus Greengrass pointed out, his voice full of triumph. "You are related to quite a few of those awaiting trial. Do the Malfoys and Lestrange not deserve fair trials, or are they the Ministry's new examples?"
"I will not be assisting Madame Chin during the trials for the Malfoys and Lestrange," Arabella told him, absentmindedly nodding. "I will be testifying."
Greengrass's face turned red at an alarmingly quick rate, his head about to pop off as he screeched, "Testifying!"
"Where is Knox?" Beatrice Burke demanded of Grace and Arabella, her white and auburn hair tied back painfully and her dark eyes squinting. There was a portrait of her ancestor up at Hogwarts, encouraging pureblood students to be cruel to Muggle-borns. "He will sort out all this nonsense."
Arabella sighed as Grace said, "Mr. Thorne has been made aware of the situation and is currently preparing for the trials. He is to remain impartial, as is expected of everyone at this table."
Arabella did not get a chance to meet Knox Thorne in the past couple of weeks. Grace was the one who insisted on speaking to him, and Arabella didn't particularly care either way, especially after hearing things about the Chief Warlock. He was formidable, dangerous, alive during the Grindelwald war, had no sympathy for others, and threw his brother into Azkaban for some petty crime. He was close to Crouch, but not a friend, and was not one to be crossed. Arabella was interested in how he could conduct himself when the trials began.
"Do not speak to us about our conduct, madam," snarled Chester Montague, his hands shaking upon the table. "You shall refrain from speaking like that to the elders of this community."
Something broke inside of Grace, something snapped because she stood up, drew herself up to her full height and bore down upon Montague, her eyes dark and her demeanour grim.
"I will speak to you how I see fit, and I will hear no more on this subject. Mr. Rowle and Mr. Avery are officially dismissed. Any other issues can be taken up with the Minister, I'm sure Kingsley would love to hear your complaints, and if you ever speak to me like that again, I will make it my life's mission to be a thorn in your side for the rest of your life, however long that may be."
She took in a deep breath and sat back down again.
"We are here to discuss the upcoming trials. You are all expected to remain impartial and expected to keep our community's best interests at heart. These are highly dangerous wizards, they will have their day in court, and we expect the best out of all of you."
They then briefly reviewed who was on trial and who was expected to come in and testify. Everyone was quiet for the most part, keeping their comments to themselves. Grace did a good job of shutting all of them up. Kingsley and Trenholm showed up later and reiterated what Grace had said earlier – they were expected to be at their best and keep the community's best interests in mind. Arabella didn't understand why they were all treating the elder Wizengamot members as though they were children caught doing something terrible. Every single person at this table knew what they were doing, and if they were children, they should be cut off right away. Why have someone unreliable making drastic decisions for every single wizard?
"Took the two of you long enough," Grace said coldly to Kingsley and Trenholm as the elders left the room.
Trenholm gave Grace a small smile. "It was rather difficult to get a list of eyewitnesses from those low lives. I'd like to see you try getting anything out of Crabbe or Jugson."
"I don't understand, what were you doing?" Arabella interrupted.
Kingsley sighed, saying, "Those Death Eaters are asking for their own eyewitnesses. Robert has the list and letters will be sent out momentarily. They can ask for character witnesses, and those people are free to show up if they wish to."
Arabella nodded and mumbled, "Can't imagine anyone coming to aid the Carrows."
She left the room soon after when Grace, Trenholm, and Kingsley began reminiscing about their younger days. She felt very left out and began searching the Ministry for one particular witch…
"Ms. Brown, could I have a word?" Arabella began politely.
Priscilla Brown was in a group talking to Claudetta Bulstrode, Eunice Max, and Hector Fawley. All four of them looked at Arabella, shocked and scandalized. Ms. Brown shook her head, rolled her eyes, and followed Arabella a few feet away. Bulstrode, Max, and Fawley giggled and laughed in their wake. Arabella refrained from rolling her eyes to the back of her head. Those antics were supposed to be for schoolchildren.
"Well, you have successfully pulled me away from my friends, I hope this is for a good reason, Black."
Priscilla Brown was a foot shorter than Arabella but stood tall and proud. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back into a neat bun with some short curls framing her lined and wrinkly face.
"Um, I was wondering if you had heard from Lavender? I tried reaching out to her but – but –"
Brown's face turned dark as she took a step away from Arabella.
"As far as I am concerned, my niece is no longer with us. You will not speak to me of her again and instead focus on the upcoming trials, as you and Chin continued to chastise us about."
She swiftly turned and walked away from Arabella, leaving her with her jaw ajar. Did… did Lavender die?
Arabella staggered back to the Magical Law Enforcement office, the question ringing in her mind. Did Lavender somehow succumb to her injuries? Was she gone? Arabella had spent years living with her, Parvati, and Hermione, and to think that one of them died seemed so terribly silly…
She quickly grabbed a bit of parchment, scratched a small note for Mrs. Brown, and sent it off. Hopefully, Mrs. Brown would give her an answer and something soon.
The night before the trials, they were going to have dinner at the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley insisted they all get together again, as it had been a while since Harry and Neville's birthday. She even made Mr. Weasley track down Harry to relay the message. Arabella had gone a bit early, finishing up her work for the day, while Harry was held back by Trenholm wanting a word. Harry followed his boss into his office, prepared not to say anything. He hoped that in doing so, this small meeting would end faster, and he would get to enjoy what little he had of this night.
"My apologies, Potter, I shouldn't have left this for the end of the day. I'm sure you have dinner plans tonight, so I'll be quick."
Trenholm walked around to the back of his desk and picked up a piece of parchment.
"As you know, those awaiting trial can ask their witnesses to speak for them and their character. Narcissa Malfoy has requested you to come to her trial as a character witness."
Harry's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Character witness? Are you serious?"
Trenholm sighed, "Yes, she said she knew what she was asking for. Of course, you are under no obligation to speak for her, this is a request, not a demand. I'm not going to force you to show up, and neither will anyone else for that matter." He then slumped down in his chair. "Though I will admit, I don't understand why she thinks you would come to her aid."
Harry's shoulder jerked up. "She saved me."
Trenholm pretended not to hear him, picking up a thick file from his desk with a short hum, and Harry left soon after, desperate to get away and be at the Burrow.
He saw the three people he was desperate to be around outside the house. They were near the broom shed, and some chickens had escaped the coop. It was a rather strange scene and something Harry never expected to see – Hermione Granger sitting on a broomstick. Ron was hovering near her, his arms in front and behind her, as though this was a toddler, while Arabella was sitting on the grass a couple of feet away, her shoes and socks off, smiling widely.
"Um…" began Harry.
"Don't!" Hermione's hand shot up, halting him without looking up. "I am concentrating – Ron, if you move away again, I will curse you so fast –"
She was an inch off the grass at best, completely pale, and her body rigid.
"Don't be nervous," Ron said rather gently. "Come on, you're barely off the ground –"
"I could break my neck!"
Harry and Arabella laughed at them.
"You're doing fine, Hermione," Harry told her. "You've got to trust yourself and let Ron take a step back."
Hermione looked at him, her eyes blazing.
"Here, let's move forward a bit," said Ron. "We'll go slow, I promise."
"I'm not ready –" moaned Hermione.
"Come on now, you've faced way worse than this," Ron said good-naturedly. "We can move really slow, and if you still want after that, we can stop. But you're doing great, and you shouldn't sell yourself short."
Hermione's stern face softened as they began moving forward at a snail's pace. Harry plopped himself down next to Arabella, taking his shoe off too.
"Hermione on a broom?" he whispered, making sure his voice did not carry.
Arabella shrugged. "She seemed determined to try at least. So, what did Trenholm want from you? Is he trying to bury you in more paperwork?"
"No, um, nothing like that."
Harry quickly became uncomfortable as he rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. He looked out into the garden, wondering if anyone would swoop in for once and save him. He didn't want to say it aloud. It was the last thing he wanted to bring up, but the trials were going to start in a matter of hours. She needed to know now rather than being completely blindsided by him.
"Narcissa Malfoy asked me to appear as a character witness for her trial."
The smile immediately dropped from Arabella's face as though it shattered on the ground.
"The nerve of her," she sneered. "The absolute nerve asking you to show up for her, as if –"
"She saved me, I don't – look, I don't know what I'm going to do, but if I do show up –"
"You're thinking about it?" Arabella rounded on him, her voice low and husky. "You're actually thinking about doing it? How – what are you on – Harry, please –"
"She saved me," Harry repeated.
"Did she change sides?" Arabella shot back. "Did she realize that her family had been fighting for the wrong reasons, that they made a mistake this whole time to fight for Voldemort, or was she saving her own skin?"
He sighed and rubbed his forehead. He couldn't answer that question, and she knew it.
Arabella scoffed and turned her head away from him. "Everything they stood for, everything they represent, will always be wrong and the fact that you're going to go in and save their skins is…" She signed and shook her head. "They were going to hand you over to Voldemort, they were all jumping at the chance to do it, wanting to be loved by him in any way, wanting some sick sense of glory from him, and you…"
She laughed, running her hands through her hair, clutching onto the roots. The volume of her voice began to rise hysterically. "They stood by and did nothing. They did nothing, and you're going to vouch for them!"
Harry sighed, unable to meet her eyes as he looked around the Burrow again.
He knew she was right. The Malfoys were not good people, and a year ago, he would have wholeheartedly said they were evil, and nothing was ever going to change that fact, but he felt so different now. He couldn't bring himself to label them like that, to even say it. Was he too forgiving of the Malfoys, and even Snape to an extent, after years of tormenting, punishing, and lording over those they considered less? Narcissa and Lucius kept Arabella, Luna, and Ollivander in that cellar for months, did nothing as Bellatrix tortured Arabella and countless other things Arabella never said aloud. What about their other victims? All the nameless and faceless people they abused over the years as one of Voldemort's trusted Death Eaters. He would be denying them justice…
But had Narcissa said the truth in the forest, Voldemort would have won. Arabella, Luna, and Ollivander would probably be dead, and everyone who stood up in rebellion.
Maybe he was being weak, forgiving too easily. Disarming and stunning without killing. Creating scenarios in his head to justify his reasons… But all he wanted to do now was tell the truth and wipe his hands free from them.
"I'm going to tell the truth. She saved me – "
"So, you're going to help them –" Arabella began, venom spitting out.
"Just let me finish," Harry began grinding his teeth. "She saved me. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for her, but I'm also going to tell everything, including how they locked us in their cellar, had Luna and Ollivander there for months, they were going to give you to Greyback, everything that happened at the Ministry when we get ambushed by Lucius, and the Chamber of Secrets."
Arabella didn't say anything for a while, her lips pursed and tears brimming in her eyes. There was a slight breeze around the Burrow, and the silence between them was deafening. He wished she would just yell at him again.
"When the old guard hear that Narcissa lied," she began, mumbling, "that she helped you and saved you or whatever you're going to say – they'll cling onto that. Make her sound like a twisted hero. They'll make sure the whole lot of them stay out of Azkaban. The other Wizengamot members will yield to them."
"They won't stay out of Azkaban."
"You don't know that," Arabella said instantly, her eyes now red. "You can't just – just guarantee something like that. Don't sit here and lie to me, okay?"
He picked at the dry skin around his thumb, unable to say anything.
"If you don't want me to do it, I won't," Harry relented, his throat twisting and croaking. "I don't want us to fight or – or for you to be angry at me."
Arabella shook her head, looking almost disgusted with him. "I'm not going to make you do anything, Harry. For Merlin's sake, make up your own mind."
Swiftly, she stood up and walked away as he opened his mouth. He wanted to laugh or yell after her, even if only to fill the silence. The war was over. They won. He hardly ever felt triumph ever since Riddle's body fell backwards. All he wanted to do was talk to Arabella, more than anything else in this whole yard. Maybe he was putting too much burden on her shoulders. She didn't want to hear it. Of course, she didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to hear about Narcissa Malfoy when she had been preparing for the trials for weeks, going to each witness, and asking them to come in and relive their darkest memories. Arabella was going to testify against them, and he was going to show up for them.
Why couldn't he bring himself to say they were evil? There was enough proof, but he didn't believe it. Narcissa lied, Draco lied, Lucius wanted his son back. They must have some good in their heart, even if it was just for each other. But they also stood by and did nothing for Arabella, Luna, Ollivander, and countless others. He didn't know what they did to Luna and Ollivander beforehand. Was he too forgiving because of their small acts of love? Was having the capacity to love enough for him to forgive people who treated those he loved terribly? Was that somehow the difference he saw between them and Bellatrix?
"What happened to Arabella?" said Ron, plopping down next to him as Hermione did the same on the other side. "I didn't hear Mum call us."
"She looked a bit upset," said Hermione, looking concerned at him as she moved closer, hugging her knees towards her chest.
Harry said the words without even thinking, "Narcissa Malfoy has requested me to be a witness for their trial."
The smile dropped from Ron's face immediately, and the small joy they once had mere moments ago vanished.
"Harry," Hermione said, her voice between a whisper and a groan. She closed her eyes and dropped her head to her knees.
"You can't be serious," said Ron. "After everything they've done?"
He should have known they would react the same way Arabella did.
"She saved my life," Harry stated again. "I'm going to her trial."
"Have you gone mental?" shouted Ron. "She was knocked to her senses, and suddenly that erases all the bad things she's done? She was protecting herself."
"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for her," Harry felt dizzy, repeating all this. "I'm going to tell the truth, but not just about that, but about everything that went on in that house and everything I can think of over the years, the Chamber even."
"But, Harry, you're still going to tell them about the fact that she lied," said Hermione, "that she saved you, and it might be enough for her not to face any consequences."
Why were all his friends against him now?
"Is that something you want to be part of?" Hermione asked.
Harry didn't say anything for a while, and that seemed to be enough for Ron.
"How could you even think about doing this?" he exclaimed, jumping to his knees. "If it weren't for the fact that You-Know-Who thought they were useless, she would have told the truth! For Merlin's sake, they were all clambering to be the one to call him!"
"They wanted to not be scared anymore," Harry murmured. "They wanted to protect each other. They love each other."
Ron looked even more disgusted than before. "No wonder Arabella's pissed at you. I'd be too if I found out you didn't care about them torturing her."
Harry grabbed the front of his shirt, his reflexes like a cat and his hold tight.
"Stop it!" interjected Hermione, pushing between them. "Ron, go inside and cool off! This is not the time to be fighting!"
Harry didn't watch Ron leave but sure heard his stomps and grumbles. Hermione sighed beside him, her knees knocking together gently.
"He's rather nervous," she began saying, her voice softer. "We're going to be leaving for Australia after the trials. He's nervous about leaving and seeing my parents again, and I think also of the plane."
"You're going by airplane?" asked Harry, slightly shocked.
Hermione gave him a sly smile. "I managed to convince him in the end."
Harry did not what to know what that meant at all. "So, you two are getting along then, after, um –"
"We had a long talk after the funeral," she said quietly, her smile growing slightly. "I told him I was half in love with him when he tried cursing Malfoy with slugs."
Her smile faltered at the mention of Draco Malfoy, almost slightly ashamed.
"He's not wrong, you know, Ron," Hermione continued. "You testifying for them does make it look like you've forgotten what they've done."
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop himself from groaning. He should not have talked to any of them. He wanted to scream at all of them for not understanding, for not understanding him, for thinking the worst of him, for twisting what he wanted to do, for not understanding what he had gone through, and for not understanding that he wanted to move on from all those Death Eaters.
"That's not what I'm trying to do," he gritted out. "I am going to tell the truth. I don't see any reason to lie or hide anything. If I keep away the fact that Narcissa Malfoy helped me, doesn't that make everything worse and her even better? I just want to do this, move on, and never see any of them again."
Hermione looked at him with pity, and he wanted to sink under the ground. He never liked that look on her face.
"I understand that, Harry, but you must also understand how influential your words are. You have to be clear with your intent. The Wizengamot is filled with older wizards who see the Malfoys and everyone else on trial as one of them. We have to hope that being the Chosen One will outweigh old purebloods."
"And if it doesn't?"
Hermione looked fearful at the thought. "You will have a lot of apologizing to do. Not only to Arabella, but to Luna, Mr. Ollivander, Ginny, and who knows how many people went through that Manor and what Lucius Malfoy has done in the past."
The trials begin early Wednesday morning. The sun did not rise, the sky was a light grey, the clouds were slowly fading away, and there was a slight breeze. It was a sign of things to come. Arabella was sure of it as she stepped into the sidewalk, her right hand tucked into her sleeve, clutching her wand like a lifeline, and tightening her sweater closer to her chest. She did not get much sleep the night before. It would have been easy to chalk it up to anxiety and cold feet, the trials were an easy excuse, but it was Harry. The usual suspect, as Andromeda would most likely say. The man had come up to her hours before and told her he was going to testify for the Malfoys.
Dinner was a strange affair for those who understood why. Everyone was determined not to talk about the trails, so Harry's silly betrayal was hidden away from the other Weasleys. Instead, the conversation was on more mundane topics like the possibility of the Quidditch League returning or the rebuilding of Hogwarts. Anything trial related was banned and shut down fast. But despite Mrs. Weasley's best effort, it did not stop Ron from glaring at Harry across the table or Hermione from giving Harry disappointing looks or Arabella pity (if she gives me that look one more time, this roast will be chucked into her throat). It did, however, satisfy her to know that her friends were also upset about what he was planning on doing and felt surges of anger every time she lost herself during dinner, thinking about what Harry said, what he was going to do, do to her and Merlin knows how many other people. She squashed her carrots under the fork, thinking of Bellatrix and Narcissa, Voldemort and Lucius, Draco's pale face and Bellatrix's smile.
She tried to understand Harry. He deserved the benefit of the doubt, and sometimes it's hard to get the words out correctly. But she could not rationalize this. She could not understand. She tried despite everything, and she hated herself for still not understanding, and she hated him – well, that's not true, is it? She hated herself, yes, and that's likely never going to change in the future. The part that wasn't true was him. She could never hate him. Even if she tried for a hundred, two hundred, three hundred years – she could never hate him. But even then, she still did not understand why he would stand up for the Malfoys. Why them?
She met up with Grace first in her office, and they gathered the last few documents before heading to courtroom ten. The trials were not going to start for another two hours officially, but Grace wanted to get comfortable and familiarize herself with the room, while Arabella sat down, messaged her aching calves and watched her.
The enormous room was dimly lit with blue flaming torches and no windows. There were two empty chairs in the middle of the room with chains around the right one. The left was for witnesses. To the left of the chairs was a wooden table for Grace and Arabella, the surface already filled with stacks and folders and loose parchment for notes. In front and behind them were rows of benches that were yet to be filled with wizards either participating or watching.
She remembers her custody hearing. The Malfoys were there too. They wanted to take her away from Remus, share her with Walburga during the weekends, and turn her into her grandmother's dream. Ministry officials will be in the same room soon. They were glaring down at her when she was a kid. Listening to her every word, finding fault in her stutters and the way she couldn't understand things because she was small and unable to reach their knees. They wanted to send her away. She was just a kid, and they wanted to send her away. All she wanted was Remus. Sometimes, she's still just a kid. She was chewing and picking her lips absentmindedly. Old habits die hard, but she was still a kid. Incapable of making good decisions, tripping over herself, staying up late, unable to sleep. She had a stack of recipes from Mrs. Weasley, but ate takeout most nights and had a stash of bread she nibbled between meals. She doubts eating that much bread was good for anyone. She had a nightmare the other day that she would give birth to a giant croissant and carry that croissant-child everywhere, trying to teach the thing magic.
Her biggest mistake, her awful decision, was not talking enough to Harry. Sometimes it was hard to find the words to fill the empty air. What was there to talk about?
The baby, sure. Their jobs, maybe, but they see each other enough in the Ministry and their jobs were intertwined. It would be repeating information. Their pasts, no thank you. Remus, no. Bellatrix, no. Voldemort, no. Lily and James, no. Sirius and Kassandra, no. Nymph, nothing's changed. Why bother hoping?
She felt so old. There were so many years between them, they were practically an old couple incapable of speaking to each other because they had already spoken of everything else. The silence was daunting. Harry was daunting. What they had before at Hogwarts seems so far away, as though they lived two separate lives, two separate worlds. Young but mature love at Hogwarts. Somehow, they seemed more grown up at Hogwarts, their relationship more real than anyone else's. Now they were detached, living in separate rooms in the same house. She wanted to bridge the gap, fill the space, find her way back to him, curl up by his side and listen to him breathe, to watch his fingers gently dance against her shoulder, but she was detached. She failed. She wanted to spend more time elsewhere than with Harry. Why was it so hard? Why can't she be better?
The courtroom began to fill up, and she forced herself to push aside her failures for a couple of hours as the trials officially began. Wizengamot members were wearing plum-coloured robes with elaborately worked silver Ws on the left-hand side of their chests. The older members were huddled together, taking up half of the courtroom away from the younger council members. Kingsley was sitting in the middle of the front row, Robert Trenholm to his right, and Knox Thorne, Chief Warlock, to the left. They were all high up from where Arabella was sitting, staring down at her and Grace.
The benches behind them were scattered with reporters, some families of the accused, and a few waiting to give testimony. The rest, however, were waiting in the hallway, huddled together, comforting and offering words of reassurance.
"Let's being, shall we?" said Kingsley, his deep voice carrying around the room. Reports began clicking their cameras wildly. "Bring them in."
The first to stand trial were Alecto and Amycus Carrow. It was Arabella's idea to have them go first. On paper, the trial should be quick and easy, and a good indicator of how the council would conduct itself. Plus, there was a herd of students and alumni outside waiting, and it would be difficult to get the Carrows off their charges. Four Aurors dragged them into the room and chained them. The sister sat in the chair, and the brother stood next to her. Both of them were glaring around the room, especially at Arabella and Grace.
The trial was not as quick as Arabella had anticipated, but she still maintained and said to herself that it would be good to see how the council saw the Carrows. Nieces and nephews came forward to speak on their behalf, and Arabella suspected that more would have come forward if it were not for the horde trotting into the courtroom, all having a bone to pick with these particular Death Eaters.
"Any student who needed discipline were supposed to be referred to them," Parvati's voice was distant. "The other professors tried not to punish or give us detention, but those two caught on quickly. They had their favourite students who told them what they wanted to hear. If you got detention, you were Crucioed. It happened to me once at the beginning of the year. That one" – she thumbed Alecto – "went on about Muggle-borns having dirty blood, and I told her the only thing that needed cleaning was her mouth. I got Crucioed in front of my sister and other smaller, terrified students."
She looked at the Carrows, her mouth thin and her eyes burning. "They used me as an example to keep the others in line. They enjoyed it, and they enjoyed teaching that to other students, and those students enjoyed torturing us. I can – I can still hear second-years screaming and crying. That sound is – it's imprinted in my mind." She stills for a moment, her fists clenched against her knees. "What kind of teacher lets that happen? What kind of teacher teaches that to students –"
She rose from her chair, indignation searing to the top, and an Auror stepped forward gently.
Parvati took a step back, her hands twitching and shaking.
"Miss Patil, thank you so much for coming in today," came Grace's gentle but pointed voice. Her testimony was over.
Parvati stared deeply into both Carrows and snarled, "Rot," before stalking out of the courtroom.
Ernie Macmillan came in after her, pompous as ever, every word recited and said with purpose. Romilda Vane told the Ministry how Hogwarts was that year, the loss of hope, and the daily reminder of fear and war as the Carrows turned a home into a prison. Michael Corner recounted getting chained and tortured by then after releasing a first-year. Terry Boot was beaten by them after laughing about the break into Gringotts. Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Anthony Goldstein, Seamus Finnigan, and a dozen other students Arabella have never heard of before the trials. With each student coming through the door, Arabella's heart swelled with pride, and she thought she would either combust or burst into tears.
The verdict came fast and easy after the council adjourned. Even the old guard did not want to be seen voting for the Carrows. They were dragged away, struggling against the Aurors and sprouting threats. Two life sentences. They were never going to get out.
Dolores Umbridge, Corban Yaxley, Albert Runcorn, Merwyn Mulciber Jr., Walden Macnair, and dozens of Ministry workers were tried together. They had family and friends come forward in their defence. Macnair's wife made a passionate plea in her husband's honour, and a fearful secretary spoke some kind words through splutters. But more Muggle-borns and half-bloods chose to speak up against them. Marietta Edgecombe was the only student who came forward and spoke about Umbridge threatening and forcing her to turn against the D.A. The rest were either on the run from the Ministry, imprisoned under their reign, or forced to watch their loved ones disappear. Mrs. Cresswell spoke about her husband's plan to falsify his family tree, which was met with strange mutterings between the old guard, and the Cattermole's testimony was met with quiet disdain from the same group.
"Silence in the courtroom, silence," snapped Kingsley.
Arabella and Grace looked at each other. This trial was proving to be what Arabella expected for the likes of Yaxley, Mulciber, Macnair, and Runcorn. She did not expect it for Umbridge, but the old toad surrounded herself with important names.
Finally, Knox Thorne spoke. Arabella leaned in, expecting something spectacular.
"We shall adjourn and return with our verdict."
Grace nearly laughed at her look of disappointment as the members in front of them filed out of the room.
"He's not that spectacular."
"I know, I was just…" Arabella signed. "I don't know, waiting for something in his voice to say –"
"What, I threw my brother in jail, and my voice proves it?" Grace let out a small chuckle and said, "They're going to fight on this one, say they were just doing their jobs."
Arabella looked over at the Ministry workers. Umbridge was sitting in the chair, fearful and unkempt, her fingers twisting around each other. Yaxley was leaning against the chair, trying to act aloof, but his face told a different story. He was trying to mask his anger, his fury, and he was glaring straight ahead at Kingsley's seat. Mulciber was behind him, looking around, leering at anyone who dared look back. Macnair, however, was looking directly at Arabella. He was not glaring like Yaxley or leering like Mulciber. But just staring at her, memorizing her, sizing her up.
"Shame…" a voice sneered in her ear.
She could still remember him and that moment as though it were yesterday. Her skin felt as though thousands of ants were crawling towards her chest, and she tried to think of other things. Of the trial, Grace sitting next to her, and the friends and students outside.
"After they come back, we'll need to prepare for Nott," Grace sensed her look away. "He has requested that his son speak, but we did not get confirmation on his part. After that will be…"
She trailed off, listing the potential order and possible character witnesses.
In an hour, the council came back with their verdict. None of them looked pleased at all. Thorne was stone, Trenholm looked as though he was going to combust, Kingsley's frown deepened upon his face, the old guard looked disgusted, and anyone remotely half their age looked pissed. There was urgent whispering amongst them still. Arabella and Grace looked at each other once more. Macnair was now smiling.
"Corban Yaxley," came Kingsley's voice, "you stand accused of crimes against wizardkind. You have served Lord Voldemort loyally. You escaped Azkaban for your master. You are further accused of helping, being a key instrument in the Ministry's downfall, and using your newfound powers to enact cruelty against Muggle-borns and half-bloods. This council has come to the decision that you will continue your life sentence in Azkaban."
There were clicks behind Arabella. Photographers were going wild as Aurors led Yaxley out of the courtroom, snarling and growling like a wounded animal.
Mulciber and Macnair followed after him, the council decided that they would continue their previous life sentences as well. The other Ministry members were sentenced differently from their Death Eater co-workers. Most of them were given lenient sentences, serving an initial year, and then another hearing will be conducted. Umbridge was the last one to be sentenced.
The scar on the back of Arabella's hand throbbed as the others left. I must obey authority. The woman was shivering a little, her chin trembling, and Arabella's right hand squeezed her left's, fingernails digging into the scar. She didn't look down to see if blood drew.
"Dolores Umbridge," Kingsley said, looking down at his parchment and frowning, "you stand accused of crimes against wizardkind. You oversaw the persecution of Muggle-borns. You accused Muggle-borns of stealing magic from 'real' wizards and sending them to Azkaban without a fair trial. Do you know, Madam Umbridge, that many of them did not survive Azkaban?"
"N – No," said the accused. "I did not know this."
"Many of them died in Azkaban, taking their own lives," continued Kingsley, his voice suppressing rage. "However –"
Arabella and Grace looked at each other.
" – it is under the council's impression that you simply did so under Lord Voldemort's regime."
"Minister," Grace stood up very quickly. "May we approach?"
Kingsley nodded and beckoned them forward. Arabella followed after Grace as they made their way toward the banister. Both of them stood in front of Kingsley, Trenholm, and Thorne. The others leaned in, trying to catch them,
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" hissed Grace, glaring at Kingsley, Trenholm, and Thorne. "Did you not hear what was said against her?"
"What Madam Umbridge did, she did so under You-Know-Who's regime –" began Trenholm, his voice mechanical.
"Robert, come on," groaned Grace.
It was Knox Thorne who spoke instead. "While we did hear what was said against Madam Umbridge, we also heard Madam Umbridge's own testimony. She conducted herself as she saw fit under He Who Must Not Be Named's regime in order to survive. We were all living during wartimes, Madam Chin, and this council has kept that in mind. She has no prior offence, no prior complaints, and has been a model Ministry employee –"
I must obey authority, it burned on her skin.
"I can summon more than a dozen students to tell you what she did to us at Hogwarts," Arabella told Thorne, her voice steel and hoarse. "They will all tell you how she made us carve words into our own skins for hours until we drew blood, how she threatened us like she did Marietta, and everything else."
"We have heard enough testimony for Madam Umbridge, Miss Black," said Thorne, "and what she did as High Inquisitor was deemed necessary when disciplining children."
"Necessary –" Arabella began, her voice high.
"From the evidence gathered, the students of Hogwarts broke multiple rules and multiple laws. Madam Umbridge was under tremendous pressure from Minister Fudge to bring the school into order. While this council does not condone what has happened, we must look at Madam Umbridge's situation from all sides. She was acting under numerous orders and extreme pressure."
"I can't believe it," whispered Arabella, looking at Kingsley and Trenholm. "You can't be serious…"
Something caught her eye. A smile from behind Trenholm. Hector Fawley was hiding in the shadows, but she could see his smile as clear as day, her vision zeroing in on him. And she saw Eunice Max doing the same, smug and haughty. Atticus Greengrass, Eldon Rosier, Priscilla Brown, and a dozen other council members were smiling, whispering to each other, and giving Umbridge looks of reassurance.
"Rest assured, Miss Black, we are not letting Madam Umbridge off," Thorne leaned in close. His smile was faint, and she hated him. "That would not be fair."
Everything within her was telling her to fight, to fight and punch him, to fight and scream and strike and not back down. Fight, her nature told her, Sirius and Mad-Eye flashed in her mind. Fight, her lungs were throbbing, Kassandra fought, and so should she. Fight, the never-ending beating of her body screamed at once, the baby lived within her, the body and soul Remus once saved. Her fists clenched and tightened, and then she closed her eyes and stalked back to the table, Grace right behind her, her heels clicking and echoing in the quiet courtroom. If she was at Hogwarts, she would have done it, punched him and taken her detention with many complaints. She can't fight like that anymore, not here.
Umbridge was sitting straighter. She was now smiling expectantly at the bench, finally realizing she had friends in the room.
"Madam Umbridge, you are hereby sentenced to five years in Azkaban," said Thorne, "after which your case will be presented once more to the council. Is that understood?"
She nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, Mister Thorne, I understand."
Grace stood up once more. "Minister –"
"This case has gone on long enough, Madam Chin," snipped Thorne.
"I would like to poll the council," Grace continued as though she was not interrupted. "For clarity's sake and transparency for our community. They deserve to understand what has occurred in this courtroom after the events of the past couple years."
"Of course, Madam Chin," said Kingsley with a slight nod. "Those in favour of conviction?"
Arabella's head jerked up. There were hands in the air. Trenholm and more than a dozen others. Cameras flashed behind them, and she could hear reports whispering their names as quills scratched feverously against notepads.
"And those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?"
More than half the council raised their hands, and the room became blinded by flashlights. The whispers and mutters grew behind them. Kingsley banged his gavel and tried to get everyone in order, but they only silenced when the Aurors escorted Umbridge out of the courtroom.
"Their names will be printed in every newspaper and magazine," Grace whispered when she sat down. "Everyone will know by tomorrow morning."
Arabella looked down. The list of names sat in her hands, Umbridge's scar shining. Her furious scribbles punctured against the parchment. Fight, her very essence told her, screaming at her from the pits of herself. This is how she fights now.
Thank you so much, let me know what you think! I hope I did justice to the character study.
Okay, so, let's talk. Umbridge got off easy here because I'm planning something in the coming chapters and I'm going to use her for the time being as a small part of the story.
Second, the Malfoys. I still think that Arabella would be really angry with them. It's not going to change overnight. I have a plan worked out for her and Malfoy, it's just going to take a while to get there and that relationship is going to take a while as well.
As for Harry, I have a plan with them and how they're going to be together. It's just gonna be a slow-burn ;)