Professor Burbage motioned for Anthony, Professor McGonagall, and Lupin to take seats in the spectator benches—rows of simple wooden seats that loomed high above the single, chained chair at the room's heart. Fudge sat next to Dumbledore, leaning in close, talking with an air of forced intimacy. Dumbledore looked distinctly unimpressed but gave a slight nod.
Umbridge sat beside them. Anthony had almost forgotten her, but as his gaze swept cautiously over the witches and wizards in plum-colored robes, he met her eyes. She gave him a smile of false intimacy. She'd recognized him, obviously.
"Oh, her," Professor McGonagall muttered with disgust. "That Umbridge woman… She's been encouraging Fudge to lean on the Dementors, and she greased the wheels when he tried to meddle at Hogwarts." She glanced at Fudge, who was nodding along to something Dumbledore was saying. "Hopefully that's put a temporary stop to that nonsense. Albus gave him a firm refusal a fortnight ago. I don't think he was pleased."
Anthony looked back at Umbridge. She was assessing the three of them in the stands with a critical eye.
Lupin leaned over. "She won't influence the verdict, will she?"
"I can't see why she would," Professor McGonagall answered. "It's Barty Crouch who—"
A deafening toll of a bell cut her off. It echoed through the stone walls, vibrating in the air long after the sound itself had faded. Professor McGonagall snapped her mouth shut, straightened her posture, and sat perfectly upright.
By the time the last reverberations died, everyone was in their place.
A heavy silence filled the chamber. Fudge looked at Dumbledore, as if checking he didn't intend to speak first.
Then, Fudge said with a touch of glee, "Bring him in." His tone was far too cheerful for the solemn scene.
A door in the corner swung open. Two Aurors marched in, gripping Peter Pettigrew by the arms. They practically carried him. Framed by their tall forms, he looked even smaller—a trembling bundle of damp, wrinkled robes and shivering flesh.
Peter seemed paralyzed with terror. His legs gave out completely. The Aurors dumped him into the chair. He instantly curled into a ball. CLINK. CLANK. The chains snaked and coiled around him, binding him fast to the wood. Peter let out a loud, wet sob.
"Trial of the fourteenth of November," Fudge announced. "Retrial concerning the murders of James and Lily Potter." A wizard sitting at the end of the front bench immediately began scribbling furiously.
Fudge introduced the panel like a ringmaster. "Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary…"
Anthony watched Peter. The boring list of names seemed to give the man a tiny sliver of strength. He trembled, his eyes flicking upward.
"…Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation; Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot…"
Peter flinched as if burned. His gaze dropped back to the floor. Anthony glanced at Dumbledore, briefly wondering if the man ever got annoyed filling out forms with that name.
Fudge finished the list and continued. "The accused: Peter Pettigrew…" He paused dramatically, peered at his parchment, and added with feigned surprise, "Posthumous recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, for confronting and, allegedly, being murdered by Sirius Black, the betrayer of the Potters. Fascinating record."
A few Wizengamot members chuckled politely. Umbridge's tinkling laugh stood out sharply among them. Mr. Crouch, sitting on the lowest bench, looked grim.
Professor McGonagall's face was stone. Remus Lupin's expression was deadly serious.
"Pettigrew," Fudge said. "You are accused of informing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named of the location of the Potters' residence, leading directly to their murders at his hand. Do you confess?"
Professor Burbage added, "And of personally murdering the Muggles near where you allegedly fought Sirius Black."
"Ah, yes, and the Muggle murders," Fudge said.
Peter shook violently, seemingly beyond speech.
Crouch spoke in what was probably his gentlest tone. "You may answer." But he was glaring pure venom at Peter.
Peter drew a shuddering breath. "I… I…" He trembled again, and his voice gained a sliver of resolve. "I deny it."
Anthony heard Lupin let out a deep, weary sigh. Professor McGonagall snorted, as if she'd expected nothing less.
"You deny?" Fudge said. "Which part do you deny?"
"All of it, sir," Peter whispered. "I deny all of it."
A murmur rippled through the Wizengamot. Heads turned. Whispers passed. Dumbledore remained motionless in the center, his gaze heavy upon Peter.
"Ah, so you truly did sacrifice yourself resisting Sirius Black," Fudge said, his tone dripping with condescending confidence.
"No, Mr. Fudge, I did not… sacrifice myself," Peter said, his courage slowly building. "But I did not betray them either—I never knew where James and Lily were… It was Black. Black was the Secret-Keeper. Everyone knows that."
A Wizengamot member agreed. "All witnesses confirm Black was the true Secret-Keeper."
"That is true," Fudge conceded. "However, I understand we have witnesses."
All eyes turned to the spectator benches. Both Professor McGonagall and Lupin stood, though McGonagall immediately sat back down.
"I am a witness, sir," Lupin said, his voice hoarse. "Remus Lupin. Friend of James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew."
The witch next to Fudge, with gray hair and a square jaw, asked, "What is your testimony?"
"My testimony, Madam Bones, is that Peter Pettigrew confessed to us, to my face, that he sold out the Potters," Lupin stated clearly. "I also testify that Peter Pettigrew spent eleven years hiding as a rat in a wizarding family. He only resumed his human form when I recognized him and forced the issue. If he had nothing to hide, if he wasn't terrified of being discovered, why live in shadows? Why not reveal he was alive all these years after Voldemort fell?"
At the name 'Voldemort,' Peter cringed violently. A flicker of fear crossed Fudge's face. Several members of the Wizengamot shifted uncomfortably, as if the name had made their seats sprout nails.
"What say you to this, Pettigrew?"
"Lupin disappeared for eleven years too!" Peter cried. "And he's a werewolf! A werewolf! Are you really going to take his word?"
Anthony stared at Lupin, shocked.
Lupin had gone very pale. He was staring at Peter, who seemed determined not to meet his eyes, focusing instead on the scribe on the bench before him. The scribe's quill paused in surprise, then resumed its frantic scratching.
Fudge looked down at his papers. Umbridge simpered, "Mr. Lupin does indeed appear to be a werewolf, Minister."
"Yes, yes," Fudge said, sounding annoyed. "Even so, a werewolf—"
A Wizengamot member repeated skeptically, "Even so? Since when do we accept testimony from—"
Professor McGonagall rose again. "I am Minerva McGonagall. Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts, Head of Gryffindor House, recipient of the British Transfiguration Society's Lifetime Achievement Award, and member of the International Transfiguration Congress Committee. I will vouch for Remus Lupin's character. His word is trustworthy."
Her declaration sparked another wave of murmurs. Lupin gave her a look of profound gratitude. Professor McGonagall shook her head slightly.
"Professor McGonagall's word is trustworthy," Fudge said. "Besides that, I believe there is other evidence…"
"Of course," Anthony said, standing up.
Peter shrieked, "He's a Dark Wizard! He commands Inferi!"
"Those weren't Inferi," Anthony muttered. Now it was Lupin's turn to look between him and Professor McGonagall.
"Yes, we're aware he's a Dark Wizard," Fudge said impatiently. "Dumbledore vouched for him… What evidence do you have, Mr. Anthony?"
Anthony fished Roger the Snake from his pocket. Gave it a firm shake. Professor McGonagall and Lupin sat back down.
…
"Honorable witches and wizards, it was just a voice! Voices are easy to fake!" Peter cried desperately. "For example… Polyjuice Potion! If someone got a bit of my hair, any part of me, they could make my voice say anything! Or the Imperius Curse…"
"The Imperius Curse?" a wizard asked sharply. "Are you suggesting that Minerva McGonagall, Remus Lupin, or Henry Anthony used one of the Unforgivables?"
Peter looked startled. "N-no…" he stammered, trembling. "I mean… it could have been faked. How can it be evidence?"
Madam Bones asked sternly, "But why would they fake evidence? Why frame you?"
"How should I know? I'm just a poor, insignificant man, hiding for my life…" Peter whined, his eyes darting around the room. Several Wizengamot members shook their heads, their expressions disapproving.
Peter's voice suddenly rose in pitch. "I know! I know why! They want Black's house!"
"What?" several voices asked at once. Anthony nearly said it himself.
Fudge looked utterly blindsided by this line of reasoning. He repeated blankly, "Black's house?"
"Minister, everyone," Peter squeaked. "I don't know if you're aware, but there's an organization… a secret society of Dumbledore's."
"Pettigrew!" McGonagall snapped.
Peter shot her a terrified glance and rushed on. "They call it the Order of the Phoenix. I know because I was once a member—it's a very dangerous group—"
Madam Bones cut him off. "I am aware of the Order of the Phoenix. It was the primary force opposing the Death Eaters and contributed significantly to the peace we enjoy today."
Many Wizengamot members nodded. Dumbledore offered Madam Bones a slight, composed nod of acknowledgement.
But Fudge looked clueless. So did Umbridge.
Fudge frowned slightly. "Let the accused continue, Madam Bones—go on, Pettigrew. What about this 'Order'?"
Peter glanced fearfully at Madam Bones—who was watching him like a hawk sighting a mouse—and looked away. "Because of Black's betrayal, James and Lily died… I was terrified. I realized the Order wasn't what I thought… it wasn't…"
"Safe," Lupin finished under his breath beside Anthony, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Professor McGonagall gave a tight nod.
"I admit it. I ran," Peter said, his eyes fixed on Fudge (and very clearly avoiding Dumbledore's gaze beside him). "I'm not a brave man. Confronting Black about why he betrayed us used up all my courage… After that, I wanted no part of the Order's work, nor the Death Eaters' slaughter. So I became a rat…" He sounded almost pleading. "If I'm not a hero, must I be a villain? Can't I just be a regular wizard who was sick of it all?"
Lupin shot to his feet. "Enough!"
Someone barked, "Sit down, Mr. Lupin! You have not been invited to speak by the Wizengamot or the interrogators!"
The muscles in Lupin's jaw twitched. He finally whispered, voice thick, "Look at me, Peter. Look at us and say that again." He slowly sank back into his seat.
Peter did not look at them. "Have you ever wondered where the Order met? They needed a base… Black is mad. As the last heir, the Black family home would be easy to transfer… if they could just find a scapegoat, get Black released…"
"No," a Wizengamot member said haughtily. "Wizarding family traditions are sacrosanct. Transfers of ancestral property require strict, formal processes."
"W-well, alright," Peter said. "But still…"
"Should this body see fit to release Sirius Black, and should he indeed be deemed unfit, and should the Black property be transferable… I propose the Black family home be placed temporarily under the stewardship of St. Mungo's, with the hospital pledging to endeavor to treat the last heir of the Black line," Dumbledore said calmly. "I assure you, the now-disbanded Order of the Phoenix has no designs on the Black family home."
Umbridge gasped theatrically. "The Order is disbanded?"
"I have no need for deception, and the Order was never a secret," Dumbledore said, his voice still calm. "Many who fought against Voldemort…" his gaze swept over many in the Wizengamot, "…were aware of its existence. The Order rose to fight a specific evil. In times of peace, it naturally dissolves."
Fudge watched him with open suspicion.
Crouch spoke up. "We must acknowledge Pettigrew raises a valid point."
That seemed to decide Fudge. He scowled. "A clever argument. But regardless, Peter Pettigrew offers no proof of his innocence. Therefore, although the evidence presented by the accusers is also… less than conclusive—"
Crouch suddenly interrupted. "Wait, Minister. There is one more witness."
"Who?"
"Sirius Black," Crouch said. "I understand his testimony is crucial."
"He's been in Azkaban for eleven years!" a witch exclaimed harshly. "Eleven! Have mercy, Barty, the poor man is probably out of his mind!"
Crouch countered, "And yet… I've also heard it said that with insufficient evidence, relying on one-sided accounts and acting rashly is… dangerously foolish."
The whispering among the Wizengamot started again. Fudge's face shifted through shades of doubt and annoyance under the buzz. Dumbledore gave him a slight nod. Umbridge turned and whispered urgently in his ear.
Finally, Fudge seemed to reach a decision.
"Very well. Bring Sirius Black," Fudge ordered. "You go, Kingsley. Quickly."
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
Read up to (55+ ) advanced chapters on Patre\on
Visit us here: patreon . com/GoldenLong
Happy reading, everyone!