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Chapter 3 – Trials and Tribulations

Tuesday 17th November 1981 (early morning)

Ministry Holding Cells

The hooded man ghosted through the lower corridors of the Ministry of Magic in search of the recently captured Death Eaters.

Most of the cells he passed were empty, or contained sleeping inmates incarcerated for minor crimes: larceny, vagrancy, misuse of Muggle artefacts, minor Muggle baiting, failure to repay debts. They were all petty criminals and of no interest to him.

The important denizens would be more closely watched. In theory.

Yet the pair of Aurors on duty as he approached the more secure cells were indolent sots, which suited his purposes just fine. That was why he'd arranged for them to be switched to this shift at late notice after all. Not only would their incompetence make things easier for him, they would also be handy scapegoats for what was about to happen, easily distracted as they were, . They weren't going to be paying full attention to their duties tonight when they felt like they had been shafted over by their supervisor and given this unfavourable overnight shift, even if they'd been likely to in the first place.

His invisibility cloak added to his sense of confidence that this was going to be a successful night.

The slow-burning fuse he'd set five minutes ago would go off very shortly, and these two buffoons would abandon their posts to see what had happened. But even if they didn't both take the bait, he was sure he would slip past in the confusion with no trouble .

BANG!

There it was. A small explosion. Just enough to cause some minor damage and keep people looking in that direction while he did what he needed to.

And he wasn't the least bit surprised when the two Aurors jumped up and were off like a shot to investigate, ignoring protocol that should have kept at least one of them at their post.

Unseen as he passed their station, he sneered at how easy it was.

All the way down to the end of the row. Three cells adjoining one another. Yet nobody in one cell could see or hear what happened in their neighbour's. Localised obscuring and silencing charms made each of these 'high security' cells a solitary confinement of its own.

But no security prevented someone who already had all the keys and access codes from getting in and out. He just had to make sure he wasn't spotted doing it.

He entered the last cell and slid the cloak into his robe pocket. Rodolphus Lestrange slept, clad solely in his prison shift. He wanted him to know what was coming. He shook him awake.

"What?" the prisoner asked groggily.

"Rodolphus."

"You? Are you letting us out?"

"In a manner of speaking. The Dark Lord's followers must remain unknown until he is ready to re-emerge."

"I understand," Rodolphus said.

"No, I don't think you do," the man responded. "Your silence is absolutely vital."

"But-"

"Avada Kedavra."

Rodolphus slumped back onto the hard slab that served as his bed, and the man re-arranged him slightly to make it appear he was still asleep.

"Dead men tell no tales, Rodolphus. You should know that," he said to himself.

Re-donning the Invisibility Cloak, he quietly left the cell and re-locked it.

Eight feet further back up the corridor, he was repeating the process.

"Rabastan!" he said quietly as he shook his recent victim's brother awake.

"Who? What?"

"No time to explain. Our Lord expects this of me!

"No! Wait!" Rabastan Lestrange shouted, jumping up and grabbing at his arms to prevent him casting. "Guards!"

"You fool! You think they can hear you?"

Never had he been so grateful for the silencing charms, but he wasn't prepared to rely entirely on their efficacy and now had to move quickly.

Rabastan was shouting loudly for help, and flailing around at the man as he tried to hold him still.

"Damn you, Rabastan!" he said, and eventually got an arm free. It wasn't his wand hand, but it would had to do, and he sent Rabastan sprawling with an uppercut elbow to the jaw that tore the panicking prisoner's grasp away.

"You couldn't make this easy, could you?" he snarled. "Avada Kedavra!"

Rabastan's body went limp, and he rushed to place him back on the cot, knowing that time was running out.

With the cloak back on he left the cell as discretely as he had entered, but had barely gone two steps towards the cell of the third man he needed to dispose of before he heard the two duty Aurors returning, fully in the throes of an argument with their superior.

"No! I told you before that someone always stays to guard the prisoners, McCracken!" he heard the duty Auror being reprimanded. "I don't care what else is happening. That's your job."

"It's not like they're going anywhere," McCracken argued petulantly. "We haven't heard nothing out of them for frickin' hours."

"That's what the silencing charms are for, moron. That's why you have to check them individually, and not just sit at the damn desk playing cards."

"I reckon I heard summat, too," the other duty Auror put in, 'helpfully'. "Someone was shouting."

"Right! Both of you can get right down there now and start checking on the prisoners! As a pair, you dimwits!"

'Shit!' he thought.

Only two thirds of his job was done, and he wasn't going to get the last part completed.

He waited as the Senior Auror stood watch at the desk whilst the two laggards headed towards him, and he jinked carefully past them when they approached. He slowly made his way along the corridor and back towards the Auror station, waiting for the right moment.

"Shit!" came the voice of McCracken.

"What the hell is it, McCracken?" the Senior Auror shouted down the corridor.

"This one's dead, sir!"

"For Merlin's sake!" The senior Auror set off towards the cell that McCracken was checking, and the cloaked man took the opportunity to slip past him.

His third target wasn't going to get done tonight. He couldn't risk it with three Aurors in such close proximity and now rather more attentive as they started to realise that something was amiss. He could fight his way out if he absolutely had to, but that was risky – who knew how many more Aurors might have been alerted by the sound of the explosion he had created and be milling around in the vicinity. His Master needed him unknown and unsuspected within the Ministry. He was going to have to come back another day, and that meant more planning.

"Hartley!" he heard the Senior Auror shout to the other duty Auror, as he slipped away from the scene of the crime, "Get up to Scrimgeour's office and ask him to send Coppenhall or one of his colleagues down here!"

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Tuesday 17th November 1981

Cap Ferret, Arcachon Bay, France

"Wonderful to see you again, Albus! I do wish you would come and visit more often though, rather than just when you need something."

"I am sorry, Nicholas," Dumbledore replied. "The time passes so swiftly, and with so many things to do that I rarely have the time to simply catch up with old friends. I'll try and do better."

"Perhaps once all this fuss over the latest Dark Lord you've got in Britain is dealt with you could come and stay for a couple of weeks. I'm sure you're not kept busy over the summer months with Hogwarts administration - I heard that you'd already delegated quite a lot to your Deputy."

"Indeed. Minerva is so capable, but I fear I have been overloading her just because she has the capacity to do the job. Perhaps I should be taking on an assistant full time."

"Or perhaps give up some of your other responsibilities? If, as you say, the world is to become a slightly better place you'll need fresh blood to look after the Wizengamot and help drag Wizarding Britain into the late twentieth century."

"As always, you make excellent sense, Nicholas."

"Perenelle would demur, but of course we wizards need to stick together on such topics."

"How is your lovely wife?"

"Better than could be expected for someone in their seventh century," Flamel said with a grin that told of countless times responding to such enquiries with this exact quip. "She gets bored a lot more easily than I – calls me a lazy laggard layabout, probably just for the joy of the alliteration – and applied for a post at the Australian Academy of Arts and Alchemy. She left just last week to get acclimated to the place and starts as Senior Potionologist there in January."

They exchanged small talk for a while longer, in the manner of long-time friends who hadn't seen one another in several years, before coming to the crux of the matter.

"So this boy Potter's your problem at the moment?" Flamel asked.

"Both directly and indirectly, I fear," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "There's apparently a Prophecy that might involve him and Voldemort – I'm really not sure whether it's supposed to be interpreted that way or not, but the Dark Lord apparently did so, which made things somewhat moot.

"His attack on the boy's parents left an orphan behind, but either James or Lily had invoked some kind of magic that protected the child. The spell traces and logical progression of events pulled together by the Ministry expert analysts agreed with my conclusion that Voldemort cast the Killing Curse at young Harry, and then promptly disappeared.

"We've tried to keep Harry's possible involvement from becoming public knowledge, but all logic points to the conclusion that the curse backfired, or was re-directed somehow and disembodied our Dark Lord."

"So you have a incorporeal Dark Lord floating around somewhere in Britain?"

"Truthfully? I don't know. It's possible, but how would we tell? And I don't think that the Ministry would be interested in buying that particular scenario, either."

"No," Flamel agreed with a frown. "I'm not confident in the competence of your Ministry."

"Quite."

"And your message to me about Horcruxes?"

"We've already identified at least one such belonging to Voldemort, and destroyed it. It was once a locket that was passed down through the Slytherin line and was treasured by Voldemort's mother until, pregnant and penniless, she sold it for far less than it was worth bare days before she died.

"It appeared to have been designed to open, and perhaps contained some treasured keepsake, but no matter what I or my colleagues did we couldn't find a way to get the catch to release, and nor could it be broken off. It seemed to expect a spoken password, yet all my attempts to discover it resulted in just a hissing noise."

Flamel looked up sharply. "Parseltongue?" he asked.

"Given the artefact's supposed heritage, it's a strong possibility. As a trait rarely found outside the direct Slytherin line a parseltongue password would have been the ideal means of protecting it from outsiders."

"I can contact some of my older colleagues and see if they know of any current speakers if you think it would be helpful, but I think you said you destroyed it?"

"Alas, it seemed the most sensible thing to do, rather than leave the Horcrux available to Voldemort."

"How did you accomplish that?"

"Fiendfyre."

"Yes. I suppose that would do the trick, though it's not very subtle, Albus."

Dumbledore shrugged. "It was either that or cast the Killing Curse at it, and I couldn't be sure that even in the warded property we used it wouldn't be picked up by Ministry sensors."

"Hah! How would that look!"

"Exactly."

"To be fair, Albus, I only know of one other way you might have disposed of it, which would have been to use basilisk venom."

"Yes. I'm afraid I don't have a friendly basilisk hanging around at Hogwarts to be able to supply me with the quantity of venom that might take, though. Whilst we might have found a source to purchase from, I shudder to think what the price would be."

"But what does this have to do with the boy?"

"Ah. Yes. Harry was integral to the discovery of the locket that was a Horcrux. He showed a sensitivity to the Dark magic that was present in it."

"Most interesting. And you say the boy is still an infant?"

"About fifteen months old. Far too young for it to be something that was faked or that he was consciously doing."

"And you suspect something more sinister, I gather?"

"Well, yes. I'm concerned that he may also have been turned into a Horcrux with the splitting of the Dark Lord's soul when his curse backfired."

"Ouch. Was there some sort of physical deformity resulting?"

"A strange shaped scar which seems to hold traces of Dark magic."

"And which appears to react to the close presence of other elements of the Dark Lord's soul. Hmm. I can't help but think you're right."

"Had I thought myself infallible I might have decided that it would be best to leave it in place – if nothing else than to use as a Horcrux detector in future years – but that would be to impose such an horrific strain on poor Harry's magic that I would fear for him being able to control it as he grew."

Flamel winced.

"Not to mention that we have no idea whether the Horcrux might be able to re-integrate with the young boy's body," he said.

Dumbledore blanched. "That does rather make finding a solution somewhat imperative. I don't suppose you have any suggestions?"

The older alchemist was silent for a moment as he though of possibilities.

"The obvious solutions seem less than optimal."

"If you mean casting Fiendfyre or the Killing Curse at Harry, then you're quite right there!"

"Indeed. And I don't expect that applying basilisk venom to the scar would be any less fatal, though I hear that phoenix tears might be effective as an antidote, were it possible to be sure of the destruction of the Horcrux without harming the child before they could be applied."

"Even as the friend of a phoenix," Dumbledore noted wryly, "I don't think that would be wise unless it were as an absolute last resort."

"Which only leaves one solution I can think of," Flamel admitted with a sigh, "which would be an exorcism."

"I have enough difficulties with ghosts in the castle, Nicholas. If I knew of a way to exorcise them we might already have a better History of Magic teacher."

"I suspect that you'd need a spiritual exorcist, rather than a magical one, in any case, Albus. The sort associated with the Church."

"And we have such a great relationship with the church," Dumbledore said with a sigh.

"Mostly based on misunderstanding though, I would say. If you can't find a Catholic priest with knowledge of the magical world in Britain, come back to me and I'll see what I can come up with here in France. Failing that, there's bound to be someone who fits the bill and is willing to at least try a ritual somewhere around the world – maybe in South America or Polynesia where they take shamanistic rituals a lot more seriously."

"Thank you, Nicholas. I'll see what I can find at home. The other question I had for you was around the number of Horcruxes."

"What do you mean?"

"Well if he's made two that we know of, how many might he have made? One of my professors, of whom the nascent Dark Lord was a protege whilst at school, suggested that he had idealised six Horcruxes – seven soul parts – as being the most magically powerful and stable solution, though he was horrified at the thought of someone committing any murder, let alone several of them."

Flamel considered that for a moment or too.

"I would think that he would probably be correct in that calculation," he said slowly. "The Arithmancy around it would be particularly stable, and it's a powerful magical number, seven."

"I feared as much," Dumbledore said sadly. "I suspect I may already have an idea of what two of the objects may be, though finding them could be most difficult."

"Would they also be related to Slytherin's line?" Flamel asked. "I didn't think that there were so many relics remaining."

"Not just Slytherin's, but of each of the founders. The young Voldemort – Tom Riddle – had a strange fascination with such artefacts, and had a particular interest in a chalice of Helga Hufflepuff that I have reason to believe was stolen from one of her heirs, and a ring reputed to be Slytherin's by way of the Peverells."

"The Resurrection Stone?"

"Rumoured to be such, yes."

"No a rumour," Flamel stated firmly. "And I note you already hold the Death Stick."

"And the Peverell Invisibility Cloak. James Potter loaned it to me before he died. It rightfully belongs to young Harry now, though he obviously won't have much use for it for a few years yet."

Flamel's face became stern.

"Do not be tempted, Albus Dumbledore," he warned. "Whilst the Deathly Hallows may indeed be real, you are not the Master of Death. No mortal man can ever be. If you seek out the Resurrection Stone you risk succumbing to that temptation. I know you seek closure with your sister's death, but heed well my words: it will do you no good to look to the dead to relieve the pressures on your conscience."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment.

"You are right, of course, my friend. I should not seek out the stone. I shall task another with dealing with it, if it is a Horcrux. I shall also pass on the Cloak to Harry's Godfather, too, and disperse the risk."

"Do."

"But you were asking about the other Horcruxes being Founders' relics?"

"Yes. If he has made six Horcruxes that they would all be of such nature. For the best result he would, I think, want to have used at least one object that was more personal to him, something in which his own personality was imbued, or which he had created himself. Perhaps something that he treasured as a youngster that he legitimately owned and took pride in, or had a fondness for whilst a schoolboy."

"I shall trawl the memories I have to see if there is anything that might provide clues," Dumbledore suggested.

"Yes, but also – you said the Potter child's scar was made a Horcrux – if this is so then do you think that it was deliberate? I had not thought that it would be possible to do such magic accidentally."

"I don't know. All my information indicates that he descended upon the Potters specifically to kill the child. Whether he intended to create a Horcrux using that death or not, I couldn't tell at the scene. It might be enough that the groundwork and intent to create one had gone far enough that his own death might have caused the creation – not exactly accidentally, just not in the fashion that he had intended."

"I still think you should be alert to the possibility that this means he has created a seventh Horcrux – splitting his soul into eight pieces, Albus. Which, I would say, is both bad news and good. Bad news because it means you have an extra Horcrux out there to find, somehow."

"And good?"

"Less tangible, I'm afraid, but eight isn't a particularly auspicious number unless you're Chinese. Your Dark Lord might just find it rather more difficult to get reincarnated with eight pieces of soul than seven, let alone all the complications it adds to the Arithmancy."

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Tuesday 17th November 1981

Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic

Rufus Scrimgeour pinched his nose and leant forwards on his hands as he felt the headache that had been steadily developing over the last fifteen minutes grow significantly worse as he thought his way through his sub-ordinate's report.

"Let me summarise, please, Senior Auror Gearing," he said, hoping that things didn't sound quite as bad as he thought they did, and that he'd perhaps misunderstood something.

"McCracken and Hartley were on cell guard duty, they got distracted by an explosion, and when you found them away from their post you discovered that the two Lestrange brothers – both in the high security cells, I should add – had been killed, and with no obvious sign who'd done it whilst they were absent. Is that correct?"

"Basically, yes, sir," Gearing replied, "though technically we don't know that they were killed during that particular period, since it had already been an hour since Hartley had actually checked on the prisoners, and McCracken hadn't bothered to do so since the start of their shift."

"Understood, but given that we aren't aware of any other possible times that it could have happened, I'm going to assume that it was during that particular distraction. If you can come up with a different proposition, by all means let me know, but this seems the overwhelmingly likely scenario."

"Yes, sir."

"And we'll deal with McCracken and Hartley later, but my best recollection is that they're already on probation, are they not?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Coppenhall and his tame Scene of Crime officer said both were killed by the same wand, belonging to Barty Crouch Junior?"

"Yes, sir. Both with the Killing Curse."

"And young Barty just happens to be the third member of their trio, and he is conveniently still alive but still safely incarcerated in his own cell?"

"Actually, sir, I've had him brought up to the Interrogation Room, and he's currently got five Aurors I can count on watching him."

"Why?"

"Because whatever information we might have gotten out of the Lestranges has just gone out the window, so I thought we needed to act immediately to get whatever we could out of Crouch."

"Good thinking, Gearing," Scrimgeour complimented the Senior Auror. "Does his father know anything about this?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Junior's an adult, if barely, so it wasn't a requirement that we notify anyone."

"Very well. I suspect I'll have to go straight to the Minister on this one. We can't have Crouch acting as prosecutor against his own son. I know he's a stickler for the rules, but he'll have to recuse himself for this one.

"Now, given that Junior was still in secure lock-up, we're not actually considering him to be the culprit here, are we, Gearing?"

The Senior Auror thought for a moment.

"I don't think it's likely, sir," he said carefully, "but we shouldn't rule it out. I would think that someone who could get in and out of the secure cells that easily wouldn't have used their own wand though."

"Indeed. A bit too obvious. Why would he have even remained in his cell if he was able to leave so easily?" Scrimgeour said rhetorically. He sighed heavily. "Okay, lets get some answers out of Junior, then."

"Sir?" Gearing asked tentatively as they got to their feet.

"What is it?"

"Can I recommend that you authorise the use of veritaserum for the interrogation?"

"To what end? We won't be able to make use of his evidence in a prosecution that way. Not without repeating the dose and the questions in front of the Court."

"Because we can still use the information within the Department, even if the Wizengamot won't authorise its use as trial evidence in his case. And I would say that someone has gone to a lot of trouble to silence the Lestranges before we could get them in front of a court to get that question even asked."

Scrimgeour paused for a moment. Veritaserum was extortionately expensive unless you happened to have a Master Potioneer available to make it, at which point the cost became merely extremely expensive. It would come out of the DMLE budget and was used sparingly precisely because of that, but also because a confession gained that way was not considered legitimate evidence unless it was used during the actual trial – an even more rare occurrence.

Here, though, they already had plenty of evidence against Barty Crouch, and if they could obtain information that might help round up the remaining Death Eaters it might be worth the expense.

"Agreed. Bring a recording crystal as well," he said. "Let's not have any doubt over whatever he tells us."

Forty-five minutes later, Scrimgeour and Gearing were back in the Head Auror's office.

"Bagnold's definitely going to have to be briefed on this," Scrimgeour said. "We need to get his trial moved up as soon as possible to get this all out into the open."

"You don't want us acting on the information before the trial?" Gearing asked, surprised.

Scrimgeour shook his head.

"No. Too risky," he said. "Whoever got in to silence the Lestranges will know immediately if we start going after all these people, and he'll know that we've got that knowledge from Crouch. The trial would never get off the ground."

Gearing looked disappointed.

"That doesn't mean we're going to let these folks get away with it, though. I want someone keeping an eye on them, and I want Aurors at the ready to make immediate arrests on my signal at the trial itself. Most of these people will be right there in front of us."

"What about Pettigrew, sir?" Gearing asked, "And Goyle and Flint?"

"We already knew about them," Scrimgeour reminded him, "from the attack on the Potters, if nothing prior. I'm pretty sure they won't be showing their faces any time soon. If you've got men out there that get wind of any of them, then great, by all means pick them up, but they'll need to be careful about their sources – some of this feels like an inside job. Even if Junior didn't know who his Ministry contact was, he knew there was one, and that worries me."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, and one thing we can do – try and find out how Junior's wand got out of the evidence cabinet. It seems a bit fishy that our murderer managed to get in up here to get that and got into the cells down there. Something else that looks like and inside job."

"Yes, sir."

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Friday 20th November 1981

St Phillip's Roman Catholic Church, Salford

The three adults present shuddered slightly as Father Ian Kelly came to the end of his ritual, and a faint black wisp of smoke-like substance escaped from the scar on the young child's forehead. Thick dark liquid oozed from the area around Harry's scar and dripped across his forehead. The smoke began to increase in quantity as the onlookers stepped back and Father Kelly abjured the spirit that was being emitted to depart and no longer retain its hold on life.

Sirius Black was fascinated. Never having seen Catholic rituals before, it was a completely different experience than he had expected when Dumbledore had asked him to bring Harry to the priest to have the Horcrux removed from his forehead.

He was surprised that anyone in the magical world would even have thought of using such a means.

The spirit seemed aggressively reluctant, and the good Father began to sweat as he tried to impose his will on the evil shadow. His breathing grew heavier and a vein on his temple began throbbing as he uttered a series of incantations in Latin, calling upon the goodness of his Holy Father to come to his aid in exorcising the malevolent spirit.

With a wail, the smoky spirit began to dissipate.

A final series of appeals to the higher power and a loud guttural utterance of "Begone!" and the apparition emitted one last scream before being severed from the mortal plain for good.

Father Kelly stood there, just breathing heavily and regaining his composure, then withdrew a handkerchief from the sleeve of his dark cassock and mopped away at his forehead.

"Well!" he said with a heavy puff. "When you warned me that the spirit might fight my efforts I wasn't necessarily inclined to believe you. That was harder work than I would have liked, to be sure."

He took the cloth and folded it, dipping a corner into the font alongside him and carefully wiping Harry's forehead clean.

He looked down at the substance that coated his handkerchief, and wrinkled his nose, throwing the cloth down on the wooden floor of the chapel.

"We think that the originator of the spirit may have deliberately created more than one such repository," Dumbledore told the recovering priest, "though fortunately not in human vessels."

"I should hope not!" Kelly replied vehemently. "It's a sin against all that is good!

"It would have been nice to have known that beforehand though," he continued. "I feared for my own soul at one point. The spirit wasn't just being recalcitrant about departing the child, but was actively trying to take possession of me. It makes more sense to me now, if there are still other elements of the soul out there that it might be looking for a vehicle to inhabit in order to reintegrate them."

Dumbledore and Sirius shared a look.

"When you approached me, Headmaster, I was reluctant to believe that I could do anything to help," the priest admitted. "The subject of exorcism had become rather taboo in recent decades – it just isn't seen any longer, and there's always a suspicion that it's something else that's actually the problem. Sometimes, in years past, it might simply have been a parent trying to explain away their child's behaviour.

"But as soon as I felt the presence in little Harry's scar – the soul there that was twisted and fractured and was not his – I knew that you'd come to the right place."

"Umm. Do you do a lot of exorcisms?" Sirius asked.

"Ha!" Kelly laughed. "No – that was my first that I would consider to be legitimate. I meant to the Church, ya know, rather than to me in particular."

He stepped off to one side to wash his hands, drying them quickly on a paper towel before turning back to them.

"Oh. I see," Sirius replied, still somewhat dubious.

"Good will always overcome evil, young man, whether you believe in God or not. If you do good works, lead a life of goodness rather than evil, He will be there for you when you need him. In the end, evil only destroys, it doesn't create.

"But you didn't come to me for a sermon – not that I would object to you joining my flock if you so desired, wouldn't you know – you came to me to see if I could relieve an innocent of a burden that had been imposed on him by evil. And I'm pleased to say that it seems to have worked."

"You're aware of the current issues in the Wizarding World?" Dumbledore asked.

"Of course. It's not all that many years since I passed my NEWTs, Headmaster, after all. But despite my seeming separation from Magical Britain, that's all it is – a physical separation. I still have friends from Hogwarts who I meet up with quite regularly, ya know."

"I had expected some level of incompatibility between believing in magic – being able to perform it, too – and a religious career."

"It isn't a career, Headmaster. It's a vocation. When the call comes, it's only right that you heed it, to be sure. If you have a true vocation as a priest, God has work for you, and you can't just turn him down."

"I apologise."

Kelly waved away the apology.

"No need. Those who don't hear the calling wouldn't really understand it." He smiled. "You might liken it to the study of Divination – at Hogwarts, that is – where all are able to learn and understand how and what the signs are, but only those with a true talent for the subject benefit from that tuition or will actually be able to use it effectively outside a classroom setting."

The priest fumbled in his cassock and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

"Nasty habit, I know. Picked it up when I was in the Seminary. Not officially a vice, of course. But after that, I think I need this."

He flicked his lighter and drew deeply on the cigarette.

"Anyway," he continued, "belief in God and belief in magic aren't as incompatible as you might think. Oh, I understand that there's a long history of disagreement between the two camps, for sure, but religion's been used as an excuse to vilify or enact revenge upon whomever your choice of target might be, not just witches. It's not the cause of it, ya know."

Dumbledore looked sceptical.

"Think of God as the ultimate creator. Is the world around you not magical, whether you are here in run-down Kersal or in Diagon Alley? It's merely a different kind of magic, right?"

The priest looked closely at them.

"No, I can see I haven't converted you." He shrugged.

"No, but you've done us a great service this day," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Is there some way we could repay you?"

Father Kelly laughed.

"Whilst the Church can always do with financial contributions, Headmaster, it's not something we'd seek to solicit – not in this manner, in this day and age, in any case."

"Some service we might perform in return, perhaps, then?"

He considered the offer, the ash from his cigarette teetering precariously and perilously close to dropping onto the chapel floor, until he noticed it and tapped it into an ashtray nearby.

"To be sure, there might be," he said, eventually. "Not something magical, but there's a soup kitchen down at the Cathedral, and we are always short-staffed. I've been desperately searching for volunteers for Sunday afternoon, ya know. Perhaps you wouldn't mind taking a couple of hours out of your day to help serve food to the poor and homeless?"

The two wizards looked at one another and shrugged. What harm could it do?

"Why not," Sirius agreed. "When and where do you want us?"

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Wednesday 25th November 1981

Wizengamot Chambers, Ministry of Magic

"The next case is something of an exception, Acting Chief Warlock, esteemed members," said Millicent Bagnold, Minister of Magic, as she stood to begin proceedings.

"I've had to step in as chief prosecutor today as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been required to recuse himself from the case. It would be inappropriate for him to be directly involved."

A quiet murmur rolled around the chamber as the assembled members speculated why that might be.

Bartemius Crouch had been livid when Scrimgeour and the Minister had approached him. Not that he refused to believe that his son might be a Death Eater or that he might have committed crimes that would see him sent to Azkaban, but because they refused to allow him to prosecute the case.

"Do you not think I can treat him justly?" he had argued.

Neither Scrimgeour nor Bagnold doubted that Crouch would do his utmost to uphold the law, but both knew that it was a huge breach of protocol.

"Think how it would look to the public, though," Bagnold argued. "The Ministry looks bad whether you prosecute your son fairly or not-"

"He's no son of mine!" Crouch spat.

"Regardless, I can't allow you to take the case on, Barty," she continued. "Propriety is one thing, but it will do you no good. I'm sorry, but I'm insisting."

Crouch had still been furious, but Scrimgeour suspected that he was angrier at Junior for getting involved and putting him in this insidious position in the first place than he was at the Minister for taking this particular line.

He'd refused even to visit his son in his cell.

"As you will have noted," Bagnold continued, "Albus Dumbledore has also recused himself as Chief Warlock for this case. We have asked him to appear as a witness for the Prosecution, as he was present at the capture of this person.

"The accused has not been able to obtain personal legal representation, as his family have withdrawn financial support for such. Therefore he will be represented for the Defence by Ministry Legist Adrianne Edwards."

Bagnold nodded towards the Defence Counsel, a witch of middle age, whose shoulder-length blonde hair was just beginning to show signs of grey. Edwards nodded back and to the Acting Chief Warlock, Tiberius Ogden.

"Bring the accused in," Ogden ordered.

The young man who was dragged in by the Aurors was barely out of his teens, his straw-coloured hair and pale, freckled face making him look even younger than he was, and the sense of fear on his face palpable to all.

Some gasps of surprise went up from those who were familiar with the Crouch family, but it wasn't until his identity was announced by the clerk of the court that the Wizengamot broke out into excited whispers.

The young man looked around nervously, as though searching for someone amongst the officials he knew, perhaps hoping that they would be able to save him.

"Bartemius Crouch Junior was apprehended on Monday 16th November 1981 at a house known as Riddle Manor in the town of Little Hangleton," Bagnold announced.

"We intend to show that he was a genuine member of the group known as the 'Death Eaters' who have committed murders and terrorist activities in both Wizarding and Muggle Britain over the past decade.

"Clearly, Crouch has not been a member of that organisation for the whole of that time, given his age, however, we intend to demonstrate that he had regularly consorted with others who have been long-standing members of this organisation. We intend to show that he participated in the torture of at least three members of the Auror force on 16th November 1991, and the murder of at least one member of the Auror force on the same date.

"We intend to draw out the identities of those with whom he conspired to commit murder and torture, and demonstrate that he is no innocent but a hardened criminal."

The young man chained to the chair shook his head violently, looking pleadingly up at his defence counsel.

"For the Defense, please, Miss Edwards?" Ogden asked.

"Acting Chief Warlock, members of the Wizengamot," Edwards began. "The prosecution has made statements that do not bear out the facts of the case. We expect to be able to show that, rather than an orchestrated attack on the Auror force, Bartemius Crouch Junior merely found himself misplaced among Wizards he had esteem for, and whom he assumed had integrity and respect for the law.

"When he found himself in an uncomfortable position, being included in their torture and murder of the Aurors they had defended themselves against and then captured, he did not engage in the same activities, but held himself aside.

"That, still an impressionable young man, whom he associated with is not a crime, regardless of their previous misdeeds. That, furthermore, being a member of an organisation is not in and of itself a crime, given that no criminal appellation has formally been attached to the group in question.

"We will argue that the prosecution has no right to sully the defendant's name through those he has associated with or crimes they may or may not have committed. That, still further, some or all of those names that the prosecution brings out of any questioning have not been convicted of, or in some cases even accused of, crimes.

"Thank you."

Ogden nodded at Edwards as she sat down.

"Your evidence then, please, Madam Bagnold."

"Thank you, Acting Chief Warlock," she replied. "My first witness is Frank Longbottom, Auror Second Class."

Over the next few hours, Bagnold drew out the story of the raid on the Riddle house from her witnesses, from the DMLE's identification (through an anonymous source) of the Lestranges' presence at the house, through the ambush that the Auror force had walked into, leaving three of the six-person team dead, and the capture and torture of the three survivors.

They identified all of those who had been present, and laid out how each person had died, then set about the details of the torture of the Longbottoms and their compatriot through to the intervention of Albus Dumbledore, Alastor Moody, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

At each stage, the witnesses were asked to make it clear which of their ambushers and torturers had cast which spells and at whom.

The picture being drawn showed Bellatrix Lestrange as the key mover, and the one who did most of the torturing and killing, and her husband and brother-in-law participated heavily, too. Crouch only took part when he was forced to, most of the time being tasked to keep watch, but even he had been egged on to cast the Cruciatus on the Aurors a number of times, and from the testimony of the Longbottoms seemed to enjoy it more as time went on.

Cross-examination was largely perfunctory, except for the aspects where Crouch was named as being directly involved. Edwards did a sound job in portraying Crouch as being forced into much of it, though she didn't seem particularly happy to be doing so.

Remus Lupin's cross-examination seemed to focus much more heavily on his own affliction than on his testimony, as the Defence counsel tried to imply that his word was suspect simply because he was a werewolf. It was easy to see the idea holding traction on some of the faces around the chamber, but since Moody, Dumbledore and Sirius essentially delivered exactly the same evidence, it didn't appear that it would have much impact.

Whilst the verdict seemed inevitable, the key point of the trial was going to be the evidence provided by Barty Crouch Junior himself.

"We believe that the evidence presented so far conclusively demonstrates that the defendant acted with both intent and malice in murdering Auror Feargal Mackintosh, and engaged with relish in the torture of Auror Mackintosh, Auror Frank Longbottom and Auror-adjunct Alice Longbottom, even if he was reluctant at first," said Minister Bagnold.

"However, in order to conclusively prove this, and to establish for the record additional information that the accused might possess, we would like to have the defendant testify himself under veritaserum."

The Minister held up a hand to prevent the interruption that she was sure was coming.

"In addition," she continued, "there is vital information in suppressing the Death Eater movement that Crouch possesses, and which Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange were both murdered in their cells to prevent them being forced to testify about."

"The defence objects, Acting Chief Warlock," Edwards noted. "The Wizengamot isn't the place for a fishing expedition, and my client's right not to answer questions will be violated by such an action."

Ogden wrinkled his nose at the defence counsel, casting his eye over Crouch and seeing that he seemed nervous and fidgety.

"Objection overruled, Miss Edwards," he decided firmly, feeling rewarded for his decision by the look of panic that started to form on the defendant's face. "This is a capital case, and the security of Wizarding Britain is currently compromised by those with whom this man was arrested and their associates."

"Go ahead, Minister Bagnold," he told the prosecutor, "but be sure to link your questions to the current case or to prove motivation, please."

If Crouch had been nervous before, he was now frantic. He fought the Aurors detailed to take him from his custodial box to the witness chair in the middle of the room, and they were forced to drag him, kicking and screaming, to the chair, begging for his father to save him, to end the trial, but it was to no avail. The chair quickly wrapped its magical chains around him.

"A calming draught as well, please," the Acting Chief Warlock suggested.

The Ministry Medi-witch forced the calming draught down Crouch's throat as best she could given the thrashing around he was doing, but the potion quickly did its job, and the application of the regulation three drops of the truth potion was much less of a struggle.

After a series of tests to ensure the potion had been absorbed fully and was working, Bagnold was given the go-ahead to question the defendant.

"Why did you join the Death Eaters, and what illegal acts have you performed?"

The testimony that Crouch provided with the truth serum in his system painted a partly sympathetic picture of the young man. His early life had been heavily regulated and disciplined by his Father, whom he was rarely able to satisfy, and only the love of his weak and sickly Mother kept him going. When he had heard about Voldemort and the Death Eaters he had initially thought that it might be a way for him to earn his Father's respect – standing up for pure-blood customs and rights and aligning himself with young members of families who had lots of influence in the Ministry and the Wizengamot.

It hadn't been long before he had realised that it involved much more than that, and had been squeamish about torturing and killing others as part of their role, but he had fallen in love with the beautiful but insane Bellatrix Lestrange, and she had taken him under her wing, slowly pushing the boundaries of what he was comfortable with and promising (and fulfilling) ever greater personal rewards.

His capture at the Riddle house had come barely eight months into his rebellion, and he had still been shy of the torture and murder that his compatriots engaged in without a thought, yet when he was threatened by Alastor Moody, his first reaction had been to cause other people pain by killing one of his prisoners.

That alone would have seen him sentenced to Azkaban, but the litany of other, often serious, crimes he had committed under Bellatrix's urging only sealed his fate with most of the Wizengamot members – as frightened as he was at the thought of Azkaban, his deeds showed him as an unrepentant criminal even before any murder was committed rather than a rebellious teenager whose upbringing was more harsh than necessary.

"Who else accompanied you when you were detailed to undertake criminal activities?" Bagnold asked, and suddenly the Chambers went silent. Did anyone dare to stand up and protest the question, likely revealing themselves as, at least, a co-conspirator?

It appeared not. Several faces of elders of the most prominent houses went pale as the implications of the answer to this question crossed their minds, but none were prepared to risk tarring themselves with the brush of suspicion. They all had to hope their own heirs were unmarked.

The Acting Chief Warlock was hesitant to intervene, and the subsequent objection from the Defense Counsel was overruled in the interests of public safety.

Crouch's answers were explosive, yet not completely conclusive.

Only those he had seen without their masks on could be positively identified, and Bagnold knew that the Wizengamot wouldn't accept speculation or assumption as particularly convincing. Aurors already closely watched those who were suspected of involvement, and only two named were actually in the Chamber. They were immediately arrested and taken away.

Once silence returned to the Chamber, Bagnold resumed her questioning. Little more useful information was elicited, and she concluded her presentation.

"Witches and Wizards, I think we have covered sufficient ground to demonstrate that, not only was Bartemius Crouch Junior a Death Eater, but that he was an habitual criminal as a result, even if he was goaded into some of his crimes by others. Indeed, beyond those minor details, we have also demonstrated beyond any doubt that he was also a murderer. I rest my case."

What defence could have been mounted by Miss Edwards had largely been shredded by Crouch's own testimony.

She put up as much of a fight as she could, relying on the negative influence of Bellatrix Lestrange upon the 'innocent' young man, and arguing that the depravity he had engaged in was only as a result of his infatuation with her, but it was all for naught, and the Wizengamot voted for a sentence of life in Azkaban almost unanimously.

Crouch was dragged away, kicking and screaming, and his eyes bulged with hatred as he was taken away.

===MCR-MCR====MCR-MCR===

Thursday 26th November 1981

Longbottom Hall

"Such a shame that Lucius Malfoy wasn't in the Chamber to be arrested when he was named by Crouch," Sirius said with a sigh as he sat in Frank Longbottom's study sipping a surprisingly good cognac with the sort of mixed feelings he'd often felt since running away from home.

This would have been one of the traditions of the Black family that he would happily have adhered to if he'd ever been allowed.

"Somebody told him," Frank replied.

"What?"

"Yes – apparently he sent his apologies as he and Narcissa were busy attending to his Father's illness."

"Abraxas Malfoy's ill?"

"No, of course he isn't, Sirius. But he needed some excuse for neither of them being able to attend, didn't he?"

"I rather thought old Abraxas was above all the petty squabbling."

Frank snorted. "Really? He liked to think he was. That's why he sent Lucius to Voldemort instead. Kept his own hands clean."

"We won't be seeing him for a while, then."

"Lucius? Depends what he's actually guilty of, doesn't it? Crouch didn't pick him out as an actual murderer, only as someone who gave orders. And most of those orders related to Muggleborns and Half-bloods, so it might even be a toss-up as to whether the Wizengamot would even convict him of anything."

Sirius grunted sourly.

"Would Abraxas throw enough money at the Ministry to get an acquittal for his son? Prevent a trial?"

"Again, depends what they can prove he did. And how far they're prepared to go with the idea of using veritaserum. If nobody can prove he committed a crime, or that he's got special information, how much is the Ministry prepared to spend on doses to get confessions?"

"In other words, unless he's murdered someone..."

Frank nodded.

"And you know he's the sneaky sort – like his Father. If he's been able to, he will have avoided anything that implicated himself directly."

"Rodolphus and Rabastan might have ratted on him."

"Unlikely, without veritaserum."

"Why were they killed, then? The Ministry wasn't even considering it until that happened."

"Who knows. Someone covering their own tracks? Or maybe someone who knew that Scrimgeour would approve veritaserum for these sorts of cases?"

"Which was why I thought of Malfoy. He's been in and out of the Ministry stirring things up ever since he left Hogwarts."

"More likely someone he recruited. Or who Voldemort recruited directly."

"Someone with a bit of subtlety, then."

"Sounds about right – however worrying that is."

Sirius took another sip of his cognac.

"What happened with the Carrows?"

Frank had been called out with three full squads of Aurors the previous evening after Crouch had named Alecto and Amycus Carrow as two of the most sadistic of Voldemort's followers.

"They fought to the death, unfortunately."

"Shit! Against, what eighteen of you?"

"Twenty."

"And 'unfortunately'?"

"Mmm. Someone had warned them we were coming, so it was a damned hard fight – we nearly lost Miller and Pugh, but both of them were gotten out to St Mungo's in time. Would have been good to stuff veritaserum down their throats. They obviously knew more than we do."

"If there's a mole in the DMLE, you're going to need to find them quickly. Who knows how much damage they could do."

"You're not wrong," Frank agreed.