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Author: Aibhinn Story: Heal The Pain Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: Completed Reviews: 8 Words: 198,021
Aibhinn's note: This chapter was written by guest author Kokopelli, with only minor additions by me. There was a clock in his room now; it read 8:50 a.m. Harry wasn't sure when it had appeared, as it hadn't been there when he'd gone to sleep last night, but he wasn't one to complain. Especially as Ginny had come in that morning promptly at eight. Nightmares aside, the knowledge that she was still there for him was enough to make his time at St. Mungo's bearable, if not pleasurable. The orderly, winking at him, had brought two breakfasts instead of one, and now he and Ginny faced each other over a small table and the remains of their meals. "Harry, your solicitor owled me early this morning," Ginny said, trying to change the topic to something obviously unpleasant. "My solicitor?" Harry responded blankly. They'd been talking about Gryffindor's chances for the Quidditch Cup at Hogwarts this year; it was an odd change of subject. "Mr. Baker." "Oh, him." Harry's mind wandered back to the time he'd first met Frederick M. Baker IV, Solicitor. The Baker family had produced a long line of sons, all of whom were trained as solicitors, the eldest always receiving an established practice from his father. The Bakers had been solicitors for the Potter family for over two hundred years. When Harry had turned 17, Frederick M. Baker IV had contacted him, explaining to him the properties that had been held in trust for him since his infancy, accounting for the funds that he'd been steward over for the past 16 years. He'd put Mr. Baker out of his mind after that, thinking no more of him than he did of the goblins at Gringotts. "He wrote to recommend your appointed advocate, Major Miller." "Major Miller?" Harry repeated, as blank as before. "Honestly! Weren't you listening to a single thing I was telling you yesterday?" Ginny fumed. "You're worse than Ron." "Hey, that's a low blow, comparing me unfavourably to members of your family," Harry said, trying for a weak attempt at humour. "No, seriously, Gin, I don't remember a single thing you said yesterday after 'they are preferring charges against you for a court-martial.' That part I did manage to remember." She raised an eyebrow and held up her left hand significantly. The sapphire sparkled at him. "Not even one?" "Well, okay," he conceded. "Maybe one." He grinned at her and picked up her hand, kissing it. "What about this advocate?" "According to Mr. Baker's note, Major Miller will be dropping in at 9:00 today to discuss his representation of you at the Hearing. Ordinarily you'd need to visit him at his office, but he said in light of the circumstances, he'd make the trip." "Isn't that kind of him?" Harry glanced again at the clock. "It's almost 9:00 now." "Spooky, isn't it, how I provide useful information just when it's needed." Her eyes twinkled. "Yeah, one of many spooky things going on in my life," Harry said, reaching out to grab Ginny's wrist and pull her to her feet and around the table. Within a moment they were in a standing embrace, Harry drinking in the smell and feel of his beloved. "Like why you're hanging out with a tosser like me." "I thought I'd made that quite plain yesterday," Ginny replied, not moving from her spot within his arms. "Refresh my memory." A long moment later, Harry realised the door was open; neither of them had heard the lock works click. A throat was cleared. Ginny startled briefly, but Harry didn't let go of her; just looked up to see who it was. "I'm afraid that as much as you two seem to be enjoying yourselves, you're going to have to stop so that I can meet with Captain Potter and get back to court in time for a conference on another case. Allow me to introduce myself. Steve Miller, your defence attorney." The accent was neutral, but the voice was crackly and harsh, calling to mind cigars and whisky and long nights spent in nasty parts of town. Ginny peeled herself from Harry's embrace long enough for him to shake Major Miller's hand. "Ordinarily I'd love to have you stay, Miss Weasley, but the conversation I need to have with your boyfriend is going to be privileged. If a stranger to that privilege is allowed to hear the conversation, the privilege is waived." "Of course." Ginny smiled up at Harry and squeezed his hand. "Captain Potter, if you could come with me to my parlour down the hall." "Your parlour?" "I have an office at St. Mungo's for exactly this sort of thing. I sweep it regularly for listening devices. I might even have something to drink in my desk if my office partners haven't cleaned me out again." "Don't you need an escort?" Harry said, surprised. He hadn't expected to be allowed to go anywhere without a guard of some sort. "Nah, they know that I'm not going to hurt you. The locked wing gave up on that stuff with me long ago – the last time they tried to have a guard attend one of my conferences was kind of expensive for them." Major Miller was walking out the door, expecting Harry to follow. Harry gave Ginny a quick kiss and followed Major Miller down the hall, feeling slightly foolish in his hospital garments, which, in a hospital, were not at all noticeable. Miller disappeared down a hallway, only to reappear at Harry's side. "Right here, Captain Potter." He opened the door on a small office containing a desk, several file cabinets, a couch, a table and several comfortable chairs. "All the comforts of home, assuming that you live at your office. Pull up a chair," he said as he bent down behind the desk. "Drinks? Tea, coffee, Butterbeer, Firewhisky?" Firewhisky? "Coffee would be fine if you have it." Miller pulled a vacuum bottle from under the desk, opened a file cabinet drawer, and retrieved some mugs. All this was klunked down on the table next to where Harry was sitting. "I'm going to talk non-stop for a minute or two, so get comfortable now. What do you take in your coffee?" "Milk and sugar, please." "Milk and sugar it is." Miller busied himself with pouring coffee and adding condiments, talking all the while. "I'm a barrister; I'm also an officer in the Department of Mysteries. The Judge Advocate of the service has asked that I represent you in your court-martial, which is the nice way of saying that I'm stuck with your case unless you want to hire a private barrister, wizard or Muggle, to represent you." He handed the mug to Harry. "Twist the band on the bottom of the mug to heat up the coffee – yeah, like that. You also have the option of representing yourself, but I don't recommend that. If you hire another barrister, you can also get my aid and assistance, but whomever you hire will be primarily responsible for your case. I don't work for the prosecutor's office, and I'm not rated by anyone in their chain of command. Defending accused enlisted and officers is my job; it's a wonderful job and I get to do it. Anything you say to me is confidential, privileged, and will never be repeated outside of this office, unless you approve it. In the interest of full disclosure, I want to let you know that I'm putting in for retirement after I finish this case, so win, lose or draw, this is going to be my last case in the service. Any questions?" "No." Harry felt a little overwhelmed; Miller had rattled that whole speech off as though he'd said it so many times he hardly heard himself anymore. Harry reckoned, if he was ready to retire, he probably had. "Do you want me to represent you?" "I don't know yet. Mr. Baker recommends you." "Fred Baker?" "Yeah, him." "Fine fellow. We used to teach seminars together, a long, long, time ago." Miller set his coffee down and leaned forward, elbows on his desk. "Let's talk about your case. You're charged with use of an Unforgivable Curse and Torture of a Prisoner. The second charge appears to be based on a flexible reading of the Cruelty and Maltreatment article. I think the charges overlap and one of them will be struck before the whole process is over. The first charge has a maximum sentence of life in Azkaban; the second has a maximum sentence of a year's confinement, but not in Azkaban. "In a week or so we'll be conducting an Article 32 hearing, under Article 32 of the Magical Code of Military Justice. The prosecutor will be putting on a case to the effect that a crime has been committed, and you should be tried for it. You are required to be at the hearing, and you are entitled to have a barrister at the hearing assisting you. You can have your barrister—that's me—cross-examine any prosecution witnesses, and you can put on your own witnesses. You can testify, under oath or unsworn, in your own behalf. The hearing is before a military barrister; his or her job is to evaluate the charges against the evidence and decide whether or not the case should go forward to a full court-martial with a military judge and jury – a jury of your superiors." Miller pulled a file out of a drawer in his desk and laid it on the blotter. It was a good half-inch thick, with the word 'confidential' blazoned across the front. "I've looked over the witness statements in this case, along with the report of investigation on the Finnegan/Brown murders. My personal opinion is that if you'd killed the bastard while apprehending him, you'd have made the world a better place, but my professional opinion is that the prosecutor has enough evidence to make the Unforgivable charge stick. The real question is what kind of sentence he's going to be able to get from the court-martial. Any questions?" The words maximum sentence of life in Azkaban were still reeling through his skull. He spoke without thinking. "If you think I'm guilty, what's the point of having a trial?" Miller threw back his head and laughed heartily. He twisted the knob on the bottom of his coffee mug and drained the mug in one long chug. "Because God has not seen fit to make me Judge of the world, I'm merely your defence attorney. I don't represent innocent men. Most of my clients are guilty of something, but it's my job to make sure that the prosecutor doesn't railroad them into a conviction unless they can prove guilt to a moral certainty." He tapped his desk with a forefinger to emphasise the last two words. "Let's focus on the Article 32 hearing. The prosecutor will put on live witnesses or recordings of testimony, if we don't object. Those witnesses will say that you used an Unforgivable Curse on some Death Eater scumbag. We have the opportunity to do one of three things: 1) say that it wasn't you; 2) say that it was you, but you're not responsible for your actions for some reason; or 3) say that you did it, but that you have a good reason for doing it, or have something in your life that mitigates against punishing you for this action." He glanced at his watch. "I'm out of time, but I want you to think about what we can do when we go into the Article 32 hearing. Let me ask you the bottom line question: what do you want out of this court-martial?" Harry blinked, startled. He hadn't expected to be asked that. "Well, what I did was wrong," he hedged. "Do you want to be punished?" "I guess so." "Do you want to go to Azkaban for the rest of your days?" Harry pictured himself in a cell, Dementors patrolling outside, and shuddered violently. "No. I've spent enough time with the Dementors already – I wouldn't last a month there." "You're not convicted yet. I'm going to do what I can to send you home to that red-haired beauty I saw you groping this morning. Think about what I said. We'll talk again before the hearing." Miller stood, Banished the coffee mugs back into the filing cabinets, shook Harry's hand, and walked out the door. Standing outside the door was the security aide Harry had seen previously at St. Mungo's. Harry nodded at the aide and walked back to his room in the locked ward. Ginny was gone when he got there, but she'd left a note. Dear Harry: I'll be back after lunch. I've got a few errands to run, and I'm not sure how long your appointment will last. I'll be dropping by home, too, so I'll pick up your extra uniform in case you need it for a meeting or something. Love, Ginny He smiled at the note and settled himself on his bed. He could wait a couple of hours. For now, he had a great deal to think about after his meeting with Major Miller. ~+~ The next morning, breakfast came as it always did, on a cart pushed by a bored-looking orderly. Breakfast for one, this time. Harry sighed; Ginny had told him the night before that she wouldn't make it until after noon, but he was still disappointed that she hadn't come. Behind the orderly was the chap from security, looking even more bored than the orderly, if that were possible. Harry wasn't hungry, but he uncovered his breakfast tray more for something to do than anything else. Under the cover was the usual St. Mungo's breakfast: eggs, toast, and pomegranate juice. Beside the juice was a red cylinder, vaguely shaped like a saltshaker. A label on the top of the cylinder read, "Twist here." Harry grunted in curiosity, picked up the cylinder, twisted it and put it back down on the tray. There was a brief hiss from the cylinder, followed by the raspy sound of Major Miller's voice. "Captain Potter, be dressed and ready to go at 9:00 a.m. – we need to meet today." Harry looked at the clock. It read 7:30 am. No problem, he thought. Good thing Ginny brought my spare uniform by yesterday. At the appointed time, he was fed, shaved, showered and dressed. Hermione would be proud of him; he'd even flossed. The door clicked, opened, and a short witch wearing a cranberry-coloured, hooded cloak entered the room. She pulled back her hood and shook out her black, wavy hair. "Captain Potter," she said in a crisp, no-nonsense voice, "please come with me." As she entered the hallway, she put her hood back up. Harry followed her example, pulling up the dark-blue hood of his uniform robes. As she passed through the halls, Harry felt wards collapse and recharge as they passed. Outside the entrance to St. Mungo's was a small, cranberry-red sedan. The witch stopped at the curb, opened the back door, and waited for Harry to get in, closing the door after him. After his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the car, he noticed that there were no handles on the inside of the doors. A moment later, the witch was sitting in the driver's seat, motoring through the crowded morning streets of downtown London. After making several turns, the car turned off the avenue into a narrow alley leading to a car park. They parked on the seventh level below the street, in a space marked "M-O-M Only." Harry waited while the witch opened the door for him, not that he had much choice in the matter. Her hood was still up, so he kept his up also. They walked out of the car park into a lift. Once in the lift, the witch fished for a rectangular key hanging from a chain around her neck. She fit the key into a slot on the lift's control panel. As she removed the key, the lift began to rise. Twenty floors later, the doors opened into a quiet Muggle office. As they passed through a set of glass doors, he noticed that the tone and tenor of the office had changed. Fluorescent lights were replaced by gaslights. There were no telephones on these desks, no Muggle fixtures of any sort. The witch threw back her hood and shook out her black, wavy mane again, saying, "This way, please." Turning down a narrow hallway, they found a frosted glass door with red lettering spelling out "Defence Services." Behind the door was a small, cluttered office. At the desk was Major Miller, dictating to an Autoquill. He waved to them, and continued his dictation. When he finished, he signed the letter and handed it to the witch. "Please make sure that this is filed today, before noon. Good to see you, Captain Potter. You're looking a sight better than our last meeting." Turning to the witch, he said, "Miss Levine, if the Minister of Magic calls, tell him that I'm unavailable for the next hour or so." "Har, har, har," she said, leaving the office with the newly signed letter. "We've had a fundamental disagreement about who's been running this office for the past ten years," Miller said casually as he turned to face Harry. Harry grinned. "Who's winning?" "We'll see next year when she tries all those tricks on my replacement. Back to work. Have you had a chance to think about the questions I left with you?" Harry nodded. "Sit down, make yourself comfortable. Coffee? Gin-gin? Okay, here we go. The prosecutor has a story to tell at the Article 32 hearing; a crime was committed, and it was committed by one Harry James Potter, Captain of the Unspeakable Corps. The defence has to have a theory of its case. It can take several forms – there was no crime; it didn't happen; if it did happen, it wasn't a crime; some other person did the crime; I did the crime, but I wasn't responsible for my actions; or my best theory of the case: yeah, it happened, and I'm really sorry." Harry shook his head, leaning back into the big client chair, which was surprisingly comfortable. "That last one won't work." "Why not?" His jaw was set. "I'll be sorry as hell if I have to go to Azkaban, but my only regret is that I didn't kill him with my hands rather than using an Unforgivable." Major Miller looked at him for a long while. "I've already said my piece on the merits of the dirtbag you tortured," he said soberly, "but the fact remains that torturing prisoners using Unforgivables is punishable under the Magical Code of Military Justice. If you decide to take the stand, please don't tell the Hearing Officer what you just told me." "Yes, sir." It doesn't make it any less true, though. "Let me tell you what I know about the line-up at the Article 32 hearing," Miller continued. "The prosecutor will be Major Eugene Whitaker, fairly competent fellow, a year ahead of me in rank. Gets lots of convictions, with very poor sentences – always asks for the maximum allowed, which, in my opinion, shoots his credibility with juries. The Hearing Officer is Colonel Harmon O. Massey, Jr. – interesting bloke. He's a reservist; his real job is as a Muggle barrister. He prosecutes sex crimes against children for the Crown. On that side of the street he's known as the 'Prince of Darkness,' primarily for the lengthy sentences he gets for child abuse cases." Anybody who prosecuted sex crimes against children couldn't be too bad. "Is he fair?" Harry asked. "Extremely. I can't think of a hearing officer that I'd rather have." Fair and working on the 'right' side of the law. Harry relaxed a bit. "I guess he'll do, then." Miller nodded and pulled a sheet of paper from a file on his desk. "So, Captain Potter, let's talk particulars. Major Whitaker wants to put on sworn statements from all of the witnesses on this list except for those who apprehended you; those he's thinking about putting on live. Look over the list and let me know what you think." Harry took the list and read through it. Elijah. Red Knight. Blaze. Seth. Zephyr. Cipher. Cipher? Harry swore internally. I thought I'd heard his voice. He was the wanker who Stunned me, wasn't he? Damn, damn, damn. Miller was waiting for his reply. Harry took a breath. "I'd rather not hear from Cipher, but I have no objection to sworn statements instead of live witnesses for the rest of these." He handed the list back. "I wish my friends didn't have to testify." "That will be a two-edged blade for Major Whitaker." Miller smiled very slightly. "Do you want to make an unsworn statement, a sworn statement, or no statement at all?" None of them sounded particularly good. Harry thought for a moment. "Can I show them my memory of the evening in a Pensieve?" he asked hopefully. It would keep him from having to relive the whole thing aloud, but allow him to tell his story anyway. "Hmm, let me think about that for a minute." Miller rocked back in his chair, feet up on his desk, eyes closed. "I don't see why not," he said after a moment. "I'll have to extract the memory for you, or have the hearing officer do it if he knows how, as you'll not be seeing your wand again until after your court-martial is over. So," he pulled his feet back down and faced Harry again, "what's your theory of the case? Are there any witnesses we should call to explain or mitigate things?" Harry hesitated, then stood, pacing the office for a while. His mind was filled with images: the Baddocks; baby Christopher; the Snodgrass family; Lavender, dead; Seamus, dying; Ginny, weeping against his chest as she sobbed over the baby. He halted in front of Major Miller's desk, standing unconsciously at parade rest. Tears began to well up in his eyes, but after a few good swallows, his eyes were dry enough to speak. "My theory of the case is that I did it," he said slowly but clearly, "and I'm sorry to bring shame upon the Corps and my friends. I probably don't deserve to stay in the Corps, but given everything I've lost in the First and Second Wars, I don't deserve to go to Azkaban, either. You could call Dumbledore, he knows everything – " He stopped. This was the first time he'd had to rely on Dumbledore since the Battle, and the Headmaster wasn't available to him. "But he's dead," he finished flatly. "What all did you lose, Captain Potter?" Miller's voice was quiet. My child. A brief wave of panic hit Harry, and he had to force it down as he began to formulate his answer. "My parents. My grandparents. My childhood. Any sense of growing up as a normal child. Dumbledore. My godfather, Sirius Black. Many of my fellow classmates. The safety of everyone I know and love." Miller nodded. "I think I can do something with that. We'll chat again before the hearing, but probably not until that morning. Send me a message if you think of anything else." He shuffled a few papers. "Any objection to me calling Miss Granger to testify on your behalf?" "No, none." "Then good day, Captain Potter." Miller rose to shake his hand. "Good day, sir." Harry turned to leave, paused, and then swivelled back around. "Uh, Major Miller, how do I get back?" "You can walk back for all I care, but if you think that would be too – uh, risky, Miss Levine will gladly drive you back to St. Mungo's." Miller was smiling a Cheshire grade grin, and Harry thought he understood his bleak joke. Harry Potter, loose on the streets, would cause a panic in the MLES, as well as cause the security wing of the Unspeakable Corps to give birth to live dragons. He left Miller's office, looking for Miss Levine. ~+~ TRANSCRIPT, ARTICLE 32 HEARING, UNSPEAKABLE CORPS OFFICER CODENAME: ONYX Hearing Officer: This hearing will come to order. My name is Colonel Harmon O. Massey, Jr. and I am the Hearing Officer for this Article 32 inquiry regarding Ministry of Magic versus Harry James Potter, Captain, Unspeakable Corps. This inquiry has been initiated under the authority of Magical Court Martial Order Number 2000-42. Counsel, please identify yourselves for the record. Prosecution: For the Ministry of Magic, Major Eugene Bernard Whitaker. Defence: For the Accused, Major Steven L. Miller. Hearing Officer: Captain Potter, before we begin the substantive portion of this inquiry, there are several matters that I need to get into the record. You will need to answer these questions directly, not through counsel. Accused: Yes, sir. Hearing Officer: It is not necessary to rise when you address me, Captain Potter. I am not a military judge, I am merely the Hearing Officer appointed to determine whether there is sufficient evidence to bind this case over for trial by court-martial and to advise the Court-Martial Convening Authority of any shortcomings, if any, in the charges. I am not to be addressed as 'Your Honour.' You may call me Colonel Massey or Mr. Hearing Officer, whichever works best for you. Captain Potter, it is your right to be advised of the charges brought against you, and of your rights to counsel in these proceedings. According to the charge sheet before me, I see you charged with one count and specification of Torturing a Prisoner, apparently in violation of Article 77 of the MCMJ. The gist of this charge is that having lawfully apprehended a suspect, while that suspect was under your charge and authority, you did torture this suspect by unlawfully inflicting pain beyond those measures proscribed for the care and treatment of prisoners. Do you understand this charge and specification? Accused: Yes, sir. Hearing Officer: The next charge and specification is Use of an Unforgivable Curse in violation of MCMJ Article 80. The gist of this charge is that you knowingly and willfully cast an Unforgivable Curse, namely Cruciatus, on a human being. Do you understand this charge and specification? Accused: Yes, sir. Hearing Officer: Before we get the next matter into the record, Counsel, I have read your briefs on whether the charges as written are multiplicious. In light of recent rulings from the Military Court of Review, I have my doubts as to whether the charges describe separate behaviours. I will not be deciding this issue, but will be making recommendations to the Court-Martial Convening Authority on this question. I will not be entertaining argument on this question, as I believe that counsel have adequately addressed the issues in their written pleadings. Now, back to advisements. Captain Potter, you are entitled to be represented by counsel in this inquiry, either appointed counsel provided by the Ministry, namely Major Miller, or counsel of your own choosing and at your own expense may represent you. In addition to these two choices, you also have the right to represent yourself. Captain Potter, do you understand your right to counsel at this inquiry? Accused: Yes, sir. Hearing Officer: Whom do you wish to represent you at this inquiry? Accused: Major Miller, sir. Hearing Officer: Very well. Major Miller, have you had adequate time to prepare for this inquiry? Defence: Yes, sir. Hearing Officer: Are there stipulations in this case? Prosecutor: Yes, Mr. Hearing Officer, there are stipulations. Hearing Officer: Please provide me with a copy. Does counsel for the defence have a copy? Yes, good. Proceed. Prosecutor: Mr. Hearing Officer, counsel have agreed that the transcripts of the following individuals will be admitted into evidence in lieu of their live testimony: Unspeakables Elijah, Red Knight, Blaze, Seth, Zephyr, and Cipher. Hearing Officer: Major Miller, were you present at all of these depositions? Defence: Yes, sir. Hearing Officer: You had adequate opportunity to cross-examine those witnesses? Defence: Yes, sir. Hearing Officer: In light of this stipulation, the deposition transcripts are admitted into evidence for this inquiry. Major Whitaker, do you have any further evidence to present? Prosecutor: I would like to admit into evidence the report of investigation into the deaths of Lavender Brown and Seamus Finnegan. Hearing Officer: Any objection, Major Miller? Defence: None, Colonel Massey. Hearing Officer: The MLES report of investigation is received into evidence. Major Whitaker? Prosecutor: The Ministry rests, reserving the right to cross-examine any defence witnesses and put on rebuttal witnesses, if necessary. Defence: The defence calls Captain Potter. Prosecutor: Please stand and raise your right hand. Do you swear or affirm that the testimony you are about to give is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? Accused: I do. Defence: Please state your full name. Accused: Harry James Potter. Defence: You are the accused in this case? Accused: Yes, sir. Defence: Where were you born? Accused: Godric's Hollow. Defence: Where is that? Accused: Near the Welsh border. Defence: Is your childhood home still standing? Accused: No. It was destroyed the night Voldemort murdered my mum and dad. I was about one year old at the time. Defence: Did you go live with your grandparents after that? Accused: No. On both sides of my family, my grandparents died before I was born. Defence: How did they die? Accused: Death Eaters killed my dad's dad, Harold Potter, while Dad was still a student at Hogwarts. Defence: What did your grandfather do for a living? Accused: He was a Healer. Defence: What was he doing at the time of his death? Accused: He was attempting to protect my grandmother, Gwen Potter. She was a Seer, one of the first assassinated by Death Eaters at the beginning of the First War. Defence: What of your maternal grandparents? Accused: They were Muggles. They died after Mum and Dad were done with school. Defence: How did they die? Accused: Death Eater raid. Defence: What were they doing the night of the raid? Accused: They were preparing to throw a party. Defence: What was the occasion? Accused: To announce the engagement of their daughter, Lily Evans, to James Potter. Defence: Who was Lily? Accused: My mum. Defence: Who was James? Accused: My dad. Defence: Where did you go to live after your parents were murdered? Accused: I went to stay with my mum's sister and her husband, Petunia and Vernon Dursley of Little Whinging, Surrey. Defence: Was this a wizard family? Accused: No, they were Muggles. Defence: Did they treat you as a son? Accused: No – they treated me as a loathsome obligation. Defence: How was your life with the Dursleys? Accused: It was hell. When I was four, Uncle Vernon decided that I needed especially harsh treatment to deal with my abnormality. Defence: What abnormality was that? Accused: Being a wizard. Defence: What was the harsh treatment? Accused: I was locked in the cupboard under the stairs for days at a time. They'd let me out long enough to eat and use the loo, except when they had to send me to school. Defence: How long did that continue? Accused: Until I turned eleven. Defence: What happened when you turned eleven? Accused: I discovered that I was a wizard when I received my Hogwarts letter. Defence: How did you receive that letter? Accused: Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, delivered it. Defence: Do you know why Mr. Hagrid delivered the letter? Accused: Yes. My uncle had intercepted all of the prior letters from Hogwarts. Defence: Do you know how many letters had been sent? Accused: Yes, I do. Defence: How many? Accused: Approximately 300. Defence: Was Rubeus Hagrid your friend? Accused: Yes, and a very good one he was. He was my first friend in the wizarding world, gave me my first birthday present, gave me my first birthday cake. Defence: How long did you know him? Accused: For seven years. I was with him the night he died at the Hogsmeade battle. Defence: Were your years at Hogwarts peaceful years? Accused: No. They were wonderful years. I made a small number of good friends, but they were not peaceful years. Defence: Why not? Accused: Voldemort began to return to power while I was in school. In my first year, Voldemort's spirit possessed one of my professors and attempted to steal the Philosopher's Stone, which was being safeguarded at Hogwarts. Defence: Was that attempt successful? Accused: No. I stopped my possessed professor before he could attain the Stone. Defence: What happened to your professor? Accused: Voldemort killed him for his failure. Defence: Did anything unusual happen during your second year at Hogwarts? Accused: Yes, the Chamber of Secrets was opened. Defence: Do you know how that happened? Accused: Yes. Lucius Malfoy, a secret Death Eater, possessed a magical diary that contained the thoughts and powers of Voldemort from when he was a sixteen-year-old boy named Tom Riddle. The diary was given to a friend of mine and she was possessed by Tom Riddle's echo. While possessed by Riddle, she opened the Chamber of Secrets and released the Basilisk. Defence: What happened then? Accused: The Basilisk was used to terrorize the school. Several students, including a dear friend, were Petrified. Defence: What happened to the Basilisk? Accused: I killed it. Defence: How did you kill it? Accused: Using Godric Gryffindor's sword. Defence: Were there any unusual events in your third year at school? Accused: None that are germane to this hearing. Defence: Did you make any important discoveries that year? Accused: I discovered that my godfather, Sirius Black, was not responsible for my parents' deaths. I discovered that he was sent to Azkaban without trial. I discovered that Peter Pettigrew, the man he supposedly killed, had been hiding in my bedroom at school for three years, disguised as a pet rat. When Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban, he attempted to capture Pettigrew. Defence: Who was Peter Pettigrew? Accused: He was a friend of my father from his days at school. Defence: Why did Black want to capture Pettigrew? Accused: Peter Pettigrew had been my parents' Secret Keeper when they were hiding from Voldemort. Pettigrew betrayed them to Voldemort. Defence: You say that Pettigrew was hiding in your bedroom. Accused: Yes, he was an unregistered Animagus – his animal form was a rat. Defence: What happened to Pettigrew? Accused: Black captured him, but I persuaded him to turn him over to the Ministry of Magic so we could clear Black's name. Pettigrew escaped, and Black had to spend the next four years of his life in hiding, trying to do what he could to fight Voldemort while evading capture by the Ministry of Magic. Defence: What happened in your fourth year? Accused: Voldemort got his body back. He killed Cedric Diggory, a schoolmate of mine, before my eyes. Pettigrew took some of my blood and brewed a new body for Voldemort to inhabit. Major Miller, sir, I need to take a break. The inquiry was recessed for fifteen minutes. Defence: I won't ask you any questions about your fifth and sixth years at Hogwarts, as they are fairly well known to anyone who read the Daily Prophet during that time. What about your seventh year? Accused: To be candid, I don't remember much about my seventh year. I studied for, and passed, the N.E.W.T. exams, and of course in March of that year, we had the Last Battle at Hogsmeade. Hearing Officer: Counsellor, I must remind you that there is a security blackout concerning the demise of Voldemort. Details of that magic are under Top Secret-Code Word protection. Defence: Yes, Colonel Massey, I am aware of that. Were you at the battle? Accused: Yes, sir. Defence: Were you wounded at the battle? Accused: Yes, sir. Defence: Did you see friends die at the battle? Accused: Yes, sir. My godfather, Sirius Black; Rubeus Hagrid, my first friend in the wizarding world; Albus Dumbledore, my headmaster; Severus Snape, my Potions master and a long-time spy for the Ministry; Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror and friend; Neville Longbottom, a friend from my year. Defence: Did you have friends wounded in this battle? Accused: Yes, sir. Defence: Can you list them? Accused: Remus Lupin, a friend of my parents' from school and a former teacher at Hogwarts; Nymphadora Tonks, an Auror and good friend; Robert MacKenzie and Aidan Roberts, two other Aurors with whom I'd worked closely for the previous year or so; Alastor Moody, another Auror; Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, my best friends; and Ginny Weasley, my fiancée. Those are the ones who were significantly wounded; many others sustained minor injuries. Defence: Captain Potter, what happened to you after the Battle of Hogsmeade? Accused: I was in hospital for quite some time. Defence: Where did you go after you were released? Accused: I went to visit the closest thing I have to a family: I went to The Burrow, home of the Weasley family. Defence: What happened the day you arrived at The Burrow? Accused: My friends were attacked by Death Eaters while playing Quidditch in the orchard. Defence: What was the object of the attack? Accused: I believe that it was an attempted kidnapping. Defence: What happened to the Death Eaters? Accused: I captured them, but they escaped. Defence: Would you be willing to capture that memory in a Pensieve? Accused: Yes, sir. Prosecutor: I'm going to have to object here to any proceeding that allows the accused access to a wand. Hearing Officer: That's not going to be necessary, Major Whitaker. Captain Potter, I am able to capture that memory, if you would rise and approach the bench. Bailiff, would you bring me the empty Pensieve? Good, thank you. Captain Potter, think of this scene, when it begins, when it ends; now raise your hand when you have that firmly in mind. Good, Fiat Memoriam. I believe we have it, gentlemen. Shall we take a break and watch this now, or at the end of proceedings? Defence: I'll leave that up to you, Colonel Massey. Hearing Officer: Please, proceed. Defence: What happened after that attack? Accused: I was recruited into the Department of Mysteries, Unspeakable Corps. Defence: Why did you join the Unspeakable Corps? Accused: Because the world is still not safe from evil. Defence: Captain Potter, there's an easel in front of the bench with three columns on it. Would you please write in the first column the names of your family members that you've lost in the First and Second Wars. Thank you. Defence: In the second column, would you please write the names of your friends that you've lost in the First and Second Wars. Thanks. Defence: In the last column, I'd like you to write the names of your friends who have been wounded, anything that put them in the hospital for three days or more. Thanks, you may return to your seat. Mr. Hearing Officer, I'd like to have you capture the scene on New Year's Eve that has led to this inquiry. Hearing Officer: Any objections? Prosecutor: None, Colonel Massey. Hearing Officer: All right. Captain Potter, please rise and approach the bench again. Think of when you became aware of the attack. Raise your hand when you have that firmly in your mind. Good, Fiat Memoriam. This one is a bit longer. I will view these in chambers after you have finished your presentation, Major Miller. Defence: Thank you, sir. Captain Potter, please return to your chair at the witness stand. Turning your attention to the night of New Year's Eve. Accused: Yes, sir. Defence: Were you the ranking officer on the scene? Accused: No, sir. My partner and I share the same date of rank. Zephyr is superior to both of us by about a week or so, and both Blaze and Seth are colonels. Towards the end, Elijah was on the scene, and he outranks us all. Defence: Did you use an Unforgivable Curse on Morgan Jones? Accused: Yes, sir. Defence: Are you proud of it? Accused: Not particularly, sir. Defence: How do you feel about this situation? Accused: How do I feel? Embarrassed, ashamed, like I let my partner down and besmirched the reputation of the Corps. Defence: If you are returned to duty, under similar circumstances, will this happen again? Accused: I don't know, sir, I just don't know. I do know that I'm not going to let my partner down again. Hearing Officer: Gentlemen, it's almost time for lunch. I have a bit of a headache, and I'm going to take a walk, get a sandwich and review the scenes in the Pensieve. Unless there are objections, we will reconvene at 1:30 p.m. Major Miller, do you have any further witnesses? Defence: I need to discuss that with my client, sir. If we do call any additional witnesses it will only be one witness, and it will be relatively brief. Hearing Officer: Very well then, this inquiry is adjourned. Captain Potter, you are at liberty to go anywhere for lunch, provided that Major Miller knows where you are and you are back here at 1:30 p.m.; please do not abuse this privilege, as I don't want to preside over additional charges. Am I understood? Thank you; thank you all. We are adjourned. ~+~ "So, how is it going, sir?" Harry asked, rubbing first his eyes, then his wrists, where anti-Apparition bracelets had been affixed in lieu of chains. They were bloody uncomfortable, but he supposed that was the point. "First, you don't call me 'sir' when we are alone. Second, you are the bright, shining centre of my universe when I'm trying your case, but we're on recess right now, and it's lunchtime, and if I don't get something into my system I'm going to fall over," Major Miller growled, looking up at the door. Miss Levine opened the door without knocking, carrying two large brown bags. "I got your usual, sir. I didn't know what the Captain wanted, so I made my best guess. I didn't get you coffee, as your wife says you should cut back, otherwise you're impossible at night when you get home." Despite himself, Harry hid a grin. "Thanks, I think. I'll take back half of the bad things I've thought about you today," Major Miller said, opening the bag on his side of the table. "It's a wonder that you were thinking of me at all on a trial day," she said, closing the door after her. "I'm going to miss her when I'm gone. Not much, but I am going to miss her. Eat up, Potter, then we can talk." Major Miller's lunch appeared to be a turkey sub on a wheat bun, stuffed with any number of unidentified vegetables, followed by a tall bottle that Harry had never seen before, probably pumpkin, but possibly carrot juice, and capped off with a large biscuit that was bleeding grease through its waxed paper wrapper. Harry's sandwich was roast beef on black bread, a bag of crisps and a carton of milk, no biscuit included. Harry pointed out the disparity. "She's a health Nazi, which is why there are so many vegetables in my bleeding sandwich," Miller growled, "but after ten years, I've finally won her over that if I don't have a bit of chocolate for dessert, I'm not going to go back to work. She figures that you're not yet corrupted, and can eat healthier than I will, as you are a strapping, healthy youngster." "It's not a bad sandwich," Harry offered, feeling as though he were being a bit rude. "It's just that you'd like two more just like it," Miller replied. "Yeah." "I lost that battle nine years ago." "Oh." They finished their respective lunches, wadding the papers into balls and taking turns seeing who could hit the rubbish bin across the office. "So, how are we doing?" Harry asked again. His nerves, which had begun to settle during lunch, were back. "Wonderful, I think. We'll see how Colonel Massey takes the Pensieve bits after lunch, I guess." "What were you going after when you asked about whether or not I was the ranking Unspeakable on the scene?" Harry asked curiously. The question had taken him a bit by surprise. "Has to go to one of the elements of the crime you've been charged with. The torture charge is based loosely on the Cruelty and Maltreatment article under the MCMJ. Under that article, the prosecution must prove that you committed an act of cruelty or oppression or maltreatment of a person under your orders. I don't think, as a matter of law, that the Death Eater dirtbag was a person 'under your orders.' If I can get the trial court to agree with me, that count will evaporate like the dew in the morning. The only way the Death Eater could be considered a person 'under your orders' would be if he was a Prisoner of War, and Death Eaters simply don't qualify for that status as a category." "Why not?" "That's a long story, and if you signed up for my class on the Law of Armed Conflict, I'd have you write a paper on the subject. They are, at best, irregular combatants – the Law of War doesn't apply to them, at all. I've got precedent on that point longer than both arms put together." "So, if that charge disappears, what then?" "It all depends, Potter," Miller said vaguely. "It all depends." Well, that was a useful answer, Harry thought, somewhat irritably. "So what else are you going to do?" "I was thinking of calling Miss Granger, but I'm not convinced that I need to do that right now. This isn't a trial, remember, but simply an inquiry into whether or not you should go forward to a court-martial. I put on all the evidence about your losses to the Dark Lord first as evidence in mitigation, and second to pave the way for some sort of diminished capacity plea if we go to trial." "Like an insanity defence?" He wasn't sure he really liked that. "We'll talk about that when we get to it, but yes, an insanity defence. I don't plan on going there, but I want to keep it in my back pocket in case I need it. Whale of a lot better than you rotting in Azkaban." Major Miller checked his watch. "If you want to hit the head before we start, this would be a good time. It's show time in fifteen minutes." ~+~ Hearing Officer: All right, we're back on the record. I trust that you found acceptable lunches in the area. You'll be pleased to note that a good walk and a good lunch has cleared my head, and I'm now ready to proceed. Major Whitaker, do you intend to view the scenes from the Pensieve? Prosecutor: No, sir. Hearing Officer: Major Miller? Defence: No, sir. Hearing Officer: I believe that we were still in your case in chief, Major Miller. Defence: I call Captain Potter back to the stand. Hearing Officer: I will remind you that you are still under oath. Accused: Yes, sir. Defence: Captain Potter, you answered my questions at great length about casualties in the First and Second wars. In summary, what have you lost? Accused: I lost my family and my extended family, my godfather and close friends among the students and faculty at school. I lost any chance at a normal childhood. I lived with constant and repeated attempts on my life, and look forward to further attempts on the lives of those near and dear to me in future. Defence: Thank you, Captain Potter. Hearing Officer: Major Miller, do you intend to offer the chart on the easel into evidence? Defence: Yes, sir. Hearing Officer: Any objections? Prosecutor: No, sir. Hearing Officer: It is admitted into evidence. I have some questions, Captain Potter. Listen very carefully to my questions and allow your attorney an opportunity to object to them before you answer. Please review the chart on the easel. Are there any omissions in the first column? Accused: [inaudible] Hearing Officer: Captain Potter, you will have to look up and answer aloud. Accused: Yes, sir, there is an omission in that column. Hearing Officer: Is that omission covered by a Ministry of Magic classification blackout? Accused: Yes, sir. It's classified as Top Secret, Umbra. Hearing Officer: I have no further questions. Prosecutor: I'd like to ask a follow-up question to yours, Colonel Massey. Hearing Officer: I'm afraid that's not possible, Major Whitaker. Prosecutor: And why is that? Hearing Officer: I have your trial jacket in front of me, and you are not cleared for Top Secret-Code Word level information, and unless things have changed in the past year, I doubt that you will ever be cleared for Umbra information. Prosecutor: Sir, do you know who in my chain of command is cleared for that program? Hearing Officer: There are two Judge Advocates cleared for Umbra, Major Whitaker. One is sitting at the defence table, and one is talking to you. The judges on the Court of Review are also cleared for Umbra. Prosecutor: Well, in that case, I have no further questions. Hearing Officer: Counsel, I want to see you back in my office in five minutes, after which I expect that we will conclude this inquiry. [Transcript ends at this point.] ~+~ Colonel Massey's office was a large, open room. Its only furnishings were a cloak rack next to the door, a pair of chairs and a small, round table next to the window, and a huge, cherrywood desk with two other chairs before it. It was beside these chairs that Whitaker and Miller stood, facing the Hearing Officer. "Sit down, gentlemen. This is an off-the-record conference between three old men who know and respect each other," Colonel Massey said, putting his feet on the desk as the two attorneys sat. "I'm signing an ROR order, pulling Captain Potter from custody in St. Mungo's – you, of course, Major Whitaker, have three days to seek to have that order reversed." "Yes, sir," Major Whitaker replied, picking at non-existent lint on his dress robe uniform. "Don't try it, Major," Massey said flatly. "I don't care how much political heat is coming down on you from the Ministry." "I'll take that under advisement," Whitaker replied, his face bland. "I wanted to advise you gentlemen of a new assignment. I'm going to write up my report, submit it to the Court-Martial Convening Authority, and then I'm going on a week of leave. After that time, I'm going to be assuming new duties as the Chief Judge of the Military Court of Review." Whitaker blinked. "Congratulations, sir," he said weakly. Massey just smirked. "I've looked into the matter very closely, and I'm not conflicted from hearing this case on review once I'm on the bench at the Military Court of Review." "Sir?" Whitaker asked. "Let me give you a very clear message, Major Whitaker, which I want you to take back to your political bosses." Massey pulled his feet down from the desk and leaned forward. "The Unforgivable charge is multiplicious of the Torture charge. The logical thing for the trial court to do is dismiss the Unforgivable charge. The Torture charge is deficient, insofar as I don't think that Death Eater was subject to following Captain Potter's orders. The trial court may disagree with me on that point of law, but if it comes to the Military Court of Review, I can tell you today how one judge on the panel will vote, and it will not be favourable to the Ministry." "I understand, sir. Any recommendations?" Whitaker asked as he squirmed in his chair. Miller put on his poker face; it wouldn't do to show too much amusement at his colleague's expense, even if his colleague was a first-class idiot. Got a little too carried away with those charges, did you? And I suppose you thought that old man Massey wouldn't notice? "I would recommend that you make a reasonable offer to Major Miller, such as having his client plead to an assault charge. I'm going to assume that you two know how to get ahold of one another." "Yes, sir, we do," Miller responded. "And you, Major Miller. You are either the biggest bluffer in uniform, or your client was holding out on you," Colonel Massey growled. "Hard to say, sir; both have been known to happen," Miller said with a perfect deadpan expression. Whitaker shot him a look, which he ignored. "Is there any reason to go back onto the record, gentlemen?" "None that I can think of, sir," Miller replied. Whitaker just shook his head. "All right then. Major Miller?" "Sir?" "Your client needs to leave the Corps." His voice was flat, unyielding. So was his gaze. "We'll talk about it, sir." "Thank you, gentlemen." Massey rose and shook their hands. "Have a nice afternoon, what's left of it." ~+~ Harry looked up from his seat in the small antechamber off the hearing room as the door opened. His attorney stuck his head inside. "Potter, come with me," Major Miller grunted. "Yes, sir." They walked to Miller's sparse office in silence. Miller nodded to Miss Levine as he passed by, giving the quickest of winks. The door closed with an odd click. Miller pulled out his wand and muttered a brief spell that further deadened the sound in the room. Turning to his client, now seated in the big client chair, he said, "He knows, Potter." Harry felt a twinge of panic seize his heart, but he didn't let it show on his face. "Yeah, I figured that out." "I know, too." Harry had guessed that as well. Ginny's going to kill me. "How did you figure it out?" he asked cautiously. Miller walked to his desk and sat down. "I watched you when you were looking through the supporting documents on the Baddock and Snodgrass cases. You almost ripped the arm off of my office chair." His expression was sympathetic. "I'm a dad, Potter. I know what I'd do to defend my children – or avenge them." Harry nodded slowly. "How did Massey figure it out?" he asked. "That's Colonel Massey to you, Potter. Easy, he's a Ligilimens." Harry blinked. "But I've been practicing Occlumency for years." "Yeah, and you were wide open when he was capturing your memories for the Pensieve. You can't keep the barriers up and extract memories; it's an either-or proposition." There was a knock on the door, followed by that same odd clicking sound. Miss Levine opened the door, swung her arm in an "after you" motion, and ushered Ginny into the office. Harry sat up, startled; he hadn't had any idea she was coming. Looking at Major Miller, Miss Levine gave a quick wink, nodded to Harry, and closed the door. He only saw Miss Levine out of the corner of his eye; the rest of his attention was focused on Ginny. "Glad you could join us, Miss Weasley, and congratulations on your engagement," Miller said, handing her a small key. "This key unlocks the anti-Apparition bands on your fiancé's arms." Pulling a small scroll out of his robes, he handed that to her as well. "This is an order cancelling the pre-trial confinement of one Harry James Potter, releasing him on his own recognizance. Take him home, ma'am, I don't want to see him until he has his trial." Ginny let the key dangle from her fingers as she held the scroll loosely. "What's this mean, Major Miller?" she asked, her eyes wide with surprise. Harry was no less surprised. He'd assumed that he'd be returning to St. Mungo's until his trial was set. They're letting me go free? On my own recognizance? "I expect it means that you're not sleeping alone tonight, but I'm not going to think about that very much," Miller said with a wan smile on his face. Both Harry and Ginny blushed brightly. "The wheels fell off the Prosecution's wagon today. Major Whitaker is a very clever man, however, and unless you want to be put under oath and asked about what happened on the night that Voldemort cashed in, I recommend that you two get married. Once you're married, neither of you can be forced to testify against the other." Ginny swung round to face Harry, her eyes wide and her face, which had been bright red just a moment before, suddenly pale. "Harry, did you tell him?" she asked, a note of horror filling her voice. Her hand went to her abdomen, leaving him no doubt that she meant the baby. "No, Gin, but he's a very clever barrister and a bloody good guesser," Harry replied, looking from his beloved to his attorney. "I've had worse things said about me." Miller rose. "I'm tired. I'm going home. Captain Potter," he shook Harry's hand, "it's been a pleasure representing you. We'll talk in a week or so, after the Court-Martial Convening Authority decides what it's going to do with you. Until then, don't leave town without telling me where you are, don't leave the country, don't cast any more Unforgivables, and try to not attract too much attention when you're practicing wandless magic." Major Miller extinguished the light on his desk, pulled a stack of papers into his satchel, nodded to his client, and walked out the door. ++++++++++++ Copyright © 2003, Aibhinn and Kokopelli, all rights reserved. Kokopelli20878@yahoo.com Write me, I write back. aibhinnhg@yahoo.com So do I. Authors' notes: Kokopelli: In a prior life, long, long ago and far, far away, I was a Judge Advocate in the United States Air Force. These proceedings are based loosely on proceedings under the 1984 Manual for Courts-Martial, which bears a passing resemblance to proceedings under the Magical Code of Military Justice. It's been a whale of a lot of fun playing in Aibhinn's world, but I've got to return to my own, less violent, less angst-ridden fiction before my sunny disposition wears away. Aibhinn: Being the beta for a lawyer has its perks! This chapter was 99% Kokopelli's; I basically did a few hours' worth of work fleshing it out. Address your reviews to him, because it's all his work. He's an awesome collaborator, even if he does diss angst. Kokopelli: She got the percentages wrong, but what do you expect from a liberal arts major? I don't diss angst, I just don't get up in the morning, brush my teeth and think "who can I put through moral and spiritual anguish today for the entertainment of my readers?" Me, I'd rather write about deadly female OC's that, uh, bounce when they walk, and the chance of happiness between werewolves and shape changing Aurors. Aibhinn: English major. And there'll be all kinds of chances for happiness among my characters—they just have to get through the icky stuff first. And these authors' notes are far too long as it is, so I get the last word. J
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