𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐒𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲¹ | HP [en]

003. Poison in your Veins

ᵃʳᵉ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳˢ ᵇᵒʳⁿ ᵒʳ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗᵉᵈ

»Objection!«

Lyall Lupin's firm voice echoed through the whole courtroom No. 10, but he knew the battle had been fought long ago. He had noticed his colleagues - his backing - lost at the very moment when he had entered the trial of the Wizengamot and seen the guilt-conscious faces of his comrades.

The fear in their eyes dominated everything else, even their cursed sense of morality. They had chosen the wrong side, the easier way. A path paved with good intentions. A path that everyone knew where it was leading. Fear was deeply rooted in their bones, making them fight for evil, but Lyall would not shy away that easily, for Fenrir Greyback was a monster, a disgusting werewolf who had made fun of hurting, killing and – worst of all – transforming others.

He should have been locked up.

Come what may.

»Why Mr. Lupin?« asked the Chief Warlock, Griffith Otis, »Democracy has spoken!« With his wrinkled hand he pointed to all the raised arms of the members of the Council who had voted in Greyback's favour.

Fenrir Greyback himself sat in the middle of the round room, fenced in by the grandstands where the wizards and witches lined up in their plum-coloured robes, and grinned cheekily up at Mr. Lupin, his sharpened fangs flaring threateningly in the light of the torches. The chair on which he sat was facing the Chief Warlock's podium, his arms trapped in silver iron, each link for one of his atrocious deeds. It was almost poetic. . .

Lyall enjoyed the sight; Greyback was finally in chains, but if he did nothing, the wolf would be free sooner than Lyall could say Azkaban.

Frustrated, Lyall looked into the faces of his colleagues, who skilfully dodged his gaze, unable to bear the accusing guilt. »Probably fear, sir! Fenrir Greyback is a threat to the common good! How can you account for letting a mass murderer go?!«

»LUPIN!« Chief Warlock Otis grabbed the edge of the wooden podium with his old hands. His knuckles stood out white the harder he reached, his eyes wide open, his teeth pressed together. »How can you-«

To everyone's surprise, it was the young Bartemius Crouch, who was recently appointed head of the law enforcement department, who cleared himself loudly and said in a whispering voice: »Mr. Lupin's right, Mr. Otis. This isn't the first time the Department has noticed Mr. Greyback. It would be irresponsible to let him go if we had such a hard time to catch him in the first place.«

Greyback watched from his chair the spectacle that was presented to him. As calm and relaxed as he sat there, one would have thought that he had only been invited to tea, and that he had brought the chains himself. His perfidious grin made Lyall shiver down his back. Greyback enjoyed the trial because he knew full well that he would walk out as a free man. Apparently, he had arranged for that․․․

Griffith Otis' facial features derailed. He kept his eyes fixed on Crouch and Lupin, didn't want the others to see how desperate he really was.

Next to him was Nobby Leach, the Minister of Magic. He didn't seem frightened or upset in any way. »We have laws, the law must be obeyed«, he said. »The members have voted, Greyback is acquitted.«

Otis wanted to comply immediately, but Crouch grabbed his wrist before he could wield the hammer.

»Mr. Crouch!« Nobby Leach barked, »I must beg you very much! If you don't keep your hands to yourself, you'll be squeezed out.«

Greyback laughed, he hadn't said a word since he was sitting down there in the chair. His presence alone triggered in most people the desire to jump down the next bridge. His wild brown hair hung in front of his face like ragged and torn curtains, the long broad nose was more reminiscent of a dog's snout than of the human olfactory organ.