The Trial Of Potter

Chapter 8

The courtroom was buzzing with excitement as Madame Bones and the jury took their seats. It was the last official day of the trial before the jury would meet to make their decision. It could really go either way. Most of the people attending the trial thought Daphne Greengrass had made a strong case for Harry Potter's acquittal. There was intense sympathy for the man who had given away his childhood and all of his adult life thus far to bringing Voldemort down from the inside. The extent of Potter's spying was still unknown, and the three men who knew those secrets were three feet under the ground. It was probably better that way, however, because there would definitely be a line of people out of Dumbledore and Moody's heads. There were rumors that Director Bones had offered Potter a deal in exchange for a guilty plea, probably trying to save her department some face, but he had refused.

Penelope Clearwater-Weasley straightened out her papers, showing no sign of nervousness or doubt, but on the inside she was a mess. She didn't feel like she had a case anymore, and to be honest something about Harry struck her as sad. She had met the Potters before; her husband's family had been heavily involved in the Order after all, and the Potters were famous Aurors. She could tell they loved their oldest son, and yet he didn't glance their way much. In fact, he seemed to be avoiding the eyes of anyone he knew, even his lawyer. It was almost as if he was bracing himself for defeat. She glanced at him, and surprisingly Harry met her eyes. He seemed so old, much older than twenty-one.

"Ms. Clearwater-Weasley, are you ready to proceed?" Director Bones asked, taking her seat.

"Yes, Director." She turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, what sort of things did the deceased Headmaster Dumbledore and the deceased former Auror Alastor Moody have you do?"

"When I was still in school, I met with Moody and Dumbledore every so often to make plans. Moody trained me four nights a week in combat and defensive magic, and Dumbledore taught me Occulmency and Legilimency. My last year, I received a very specific mission. Before I had mostly trained and gathered information, but this was different."

"Tell me about it," Penelope said gently. Harry shook his head, not willing to say a word. She paused for a moment before saying, "Then can you show me?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, but he glanced over at Daphne. Her answer was written all over her face: Do it or else. "Okay," he agreed quietly.

Harry's memory was placed in the courtroom Pensieve, and the date was noted and announced. "November 1, 1994."

In this memory, Harry appeared to be seventeen. Lily and James remembered that year well, had played it over again and again in their heads, but what they remembered wasn't what they actually saw in the memory. They remembered Harry being so carefree and bright, the world ready for his taking, but the boy in this memory had old eyes and slumped shoulders. It made Lily wonder how if Harry ever really let them see what he was thinking or worrying about or if they had just not looked at all. Still, this was not the posture of a boy who had given up. It was one of someone who was preparing for a fight.

Dumbledore was sitting in his chair in his office, his expression seemingly pleasant, but the standard twinkle in his eye just wasn't there. Harry sat across from him, arms crossed and fists clenched, while Moody stood rigidly to the side. The tension in the room seemed thicker than the fog outside the window.

"Sir, do you want to explain to me why you've allowed a Death Eater to enter my brother into a tournament intended for 7th year students?" Harry asked casually, the only flash of anger in his eyes.

"It was a necessary risk, my boy," Dumbledore answered. "We needed something to draw Tom out of hiding and into the light. This will be too good of an opportunity to pass up."