Things were simpler during the War.
Could that be right? Harry Potter thought to himself as he slammed his closet door shut with more force than he had intended.
He looked out the window of his third story London flat at an angry grey sky that fit perfectly with his mood, and his mind briefly toyed with the idea of whether one's mood was controlled by the weather, or if it was the other way around. As usual these days, he couldn't concentrate on the thought for long and it was soon lost in the avenues of his mind.
Besides, he had more things to occupy his mind today. It was three months after he had defeated Voldemort, and at last the Demiguises that had run Azkaban since the Dementors abandoned their posts had found Peter Pettigrew.
When Harry had first heard that Demiguises were being used at Azkaban, he was more than a little skeptical. Hermione had shown him in some bestiary book that they were peaceful creatures and he wondered if they would be at all useful in protecting the prison. Their successes took Harry by surprise. When he actually saw one, he almost forgot the fact that they were docile - they were very large, black-haired ape-like creatures, with pitch-black eyes that seemed to have no end. When it disappeared right in front of Harry's eyes, he suddenly understood why they had been called into service; it would be useful to have guards who could become invisible at will. Hagrid had been working with them, so that while they weren't prone to violence like the Dementors, they could be fierce when the time came.
Most importantly, they had tracked down Pettigrew, so Harry was having a hard time faulting them with anything at this point.
Peter Pettigrew. Just the name made Harry's hands ball into fists and waves of rage crash through his body. Of all Voldemort's remaining servants, Pettigrew was the one that Harry had wanted caught the most. The things that the man was responsible for: the betrayal of his parents, Cedric's murder, the return of Voldemort… Harry took a deep breath to calm himself down. He couldn't let the hatred that had been simmering under the surface for the past three months boil over now. Not yet.
He couldn't explain where this anger that he carried had come from, but it had been there ever since he had destroyed Voldemort. He knew that he should have been relieved, happy, joyful, a thousand other things than angry, but he couldn't escape it - the void in himself that killing Voldemort failed to fill. All his life he had been working towards the goal of freeing the world from Voldemort's shadow, and now that he was gone, Harry couldn't figure out why he had all this left over emotion.
He remembered all the celebrations and parades that had happened afterward, and he remembered feeling like he wasn't even there, like he was watching someone else sit there and receive all kinds of toasts and accolades, honors and recognition. None of it seemed to matter.
He had stayed with the Weasleys at the Burrow for a couple of weeks after everything had calmed down, but eventually he found that he couldn't be around them all the time. He cared about them all dearly, and he knew he always would, but there was always some argument going on or someone running about the house, none of which helped to improve his continually worsening mood, so he had found this flat just around the corner from Diagon Alley and taken it. He hoped some time alone would help him figure out what was wrong, but so far he hadn't gotten close to an answer.
There were some things that he could rest easy about, however, like the fact that his friends had made it through everything okay. That was one of his biggest worries during their seventh term, but together they had managed to survive. Things certainly weren't the same though. How could they be? he wondered.
One of the biggest surprises was Ron ending up with Luna Lovegood; that was something he had never seen coming. He had always figured that Ron and Hermione's bickering had just been a cover for something deeper, but during the course of their seventh year, as they went through challenge after challenge to hunt down the Horcruxes, Luna had become more and more of a help, and, for some reason, Ron had been drawn to her. Some time back his friend has confessed that he didn't know how it had happened, but he just suddenly found himself thinking about her a lot and always worrying about her safety. Harry wondered if it also had something to do with the fact that Hermione had been so focused on helping defeat Voldemort that she didn't really make anytime for anything else in her life, but Harry didn't want to bring that up to Ron. His best friend was happy and that was all that mattered.
He found himself relating to Hermione in the fact that he barely made any effort to have any kind of social life last year, which would explain why he and Ginny had drifted apart. At first, Harry told himself that it was for the best; Ginny would be safer the further away from him she was. As time had passed, he found himself thinking less and less about her, and by the time the War was over, he had been through too much to just pick up where they had left off. He'd told her this with some serious trepidation, only to find that she had been expecting it.
"I'm not daft," she had reminded him when he told her. "I could see this coming, Harry. You're not as good at hiding things as you may think."
Harry fumbled for a moment before saying, "Look, Ginny, it's okay for you to be angry with me; you have every right to be. But after all of this, I thought I owed you the truth."
"You owed me?" she asked bitterly. "I daresay you do, Harry Potter, or rather did. You made it pretty evident this past year that you were never going to come back to us, even if you never said anything. It just would have been nice if you had just said it to me so I wouldn't have spent all this time waiting for you, for no reason."
That last bit stung a bit, but Harry couldn't bring himself to rise to the challenge in her voice. "I don't know what you want me to say here, Gin. I'm sorry."
Ginny looked like she was about to say something else, but then changed her mind, and sighed heavily. "I suppose it doesn't matter now, does it?"
Harry looked at her for a moment, trying to summon up the feelings that had seemed so real only months before, but nothing came, so he only responded, "No, I guess it doesn't."
That was where it ended. They parted ways cordially, and Harry knew that things would never be the same between them. They had never really built up much of a friendship, and this effectively killed any chance at ever having one. He actually heard from Ron that she and Neville had been seeing a fair amount of each other recently, and Harry was happy for them. Just like Luna, Neville had proved himself a loyal friend during the War, and if he made Ginny happy, then it was fine with Harry.
Then there was Hermione, and she seemed different in a way that he couldn't quite put his finger on. She'd also purchased her own flat in London, just a few streets over from his as it happened, so he saw her more than he saw anyone else, although their getting together usually seemed to be her idea. He was becoming increasingly reluctant to go out, and Hermione didn't like to seem him like that, so she was always suggesting they did something. She might try to hide it, but Harry could see that she was feeling a bit lost herself, and though they never really talked about it, they connected over it. She always seemed to be holding something back, some small part of her that Harry could never get her to reveal, as much as he tried. So instead, they would just go for walks, go to coffee houses, do things that normal people did. Yet at his core, Harry knew no matter what, he would never feel normal. Not after everything he'd been through.
Maybe that will change today, he thought hopefully as he put on a jacket. It only took him a glance at the sky to tell him it would rain at any minute, but he didn't grab an umbrella. Today was the trial of Peter Pettigrew, and Harry hoped that maybe this would ease his mind, stop the restlessness that he couldn't get rid of.
He looked at the clock on the wall which read a quarter till one and swore under his breath. The trial was supposed to start at one sharp, and he was supposed to meet Hermione at the Ministry of Magic ten minutes before. He threw his keys into his jacket pocket, and rushed out the door. He was going to have to hurry to make it on time.
He hit the street at a half-run, briefly relishing the cool London air, and the faint scent of rain on the breeze. He quickly made his way through the traffic and constant stream of Muggles as he headed towards the Ministry, hoping that he wasn't too late.
He found the red telephone box in the same dodgy street it always was just as the fat raindrops were starting to fall, rushed into it and shut the door and quickly dialed 62442. When the voice of the welcome witch suddenly filled the booth, asking him to state his business he said, "the trial of Peter Pettigrew," and a silver badge appeared with his name and the word "trial" inscribed on it. Then the lift kicked on, and Harry was lowered into the Ministry.
As Harry waited in the lift, he couldn't help but remember one of the last times he was here, when the Death Eaters and Voldemort had attacked, looking for the Prophecy, and Sirius had been killed. He felt a knot in his stomach just going to where he had lost his god father, and his rage at Pettigrew surged up again. Today is your turn, he thought to himself as he heard the ding and the door opened.
He walked out into the Atrium, glancing briefly at Fountain of Magical Brethren, again pushing back memories, and looked for Hermione. There were a few wizards milling about, but no one that he recognized. He let out a sigh of relief; he wasn't late.
Suddenly from behind him, he heard a voice say, "Harry Potter, you are one minute late."
He couldn't help but smile as he turned around to see Hermione looking up at him. She had certainly grown up during their seventh term, and now looked much more a young woman than the girl he had first met all those years ago. She was dressed in more formal clothes than normal, with a pair of black dress pants and a navy blue top with a black jacket, but her hair was the same mess of curls it had always been, although it had seemed to straighten a little as it got longer.
As if reading his thoughts, she said with a smile, "Well, at least I tried to look respectable for the occasion."
Harry looked down at his wrinkled tan pants and the red t-shirt he was wearing under his blue jacket.
"Er…I was running a little late. I didn't exactly have time to put on my dress robes, Hermione," he said.
She laughed softly and said, "Well, you could at least have tried to comb your hair, or are you tired of combs breaking off in that mess?"
He laughed at that -- something that only Hermione seemed to be able to make him do these days and gave her a playful shove.
"My hair's not as long as yours," he said, running a hand through his messy hair, trying to pat it down.
"You're also not a girl," she replied, smirking.
Harry kept smiling for a moment, until a scowling wizard bumped into him, and the deep frown suddenly reminded him why he was here. He knew Hermione was trying to cheer him up, but this was not the time.
"Look, we can discuss hair styles on the way in, all right? We're going to be late," Harry said and started walking to the gates and security check point. He heard Hermione mumble "because of you," but decided to ignore it.
They both checked their wands and were allowed to the gates where they took the stairs that lead to level ten, which was where the trial was being held.
As the hurried down the stairs Harry asked, "How long have you been here?"
Hermione shrugged and said, "About ten minutes or so I would guess."
"Seen anyone we know?"
"I saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, as well as Fred and George, Ginny and Ron and Luna."
Harry looked sideways at her as she said the last two names; he had never figured out how she felt about Ron dating Luna and they had never really brought it up, but he didn't think now was the time to delve into it.
"Anyone else?"
"Quite a few of the Order members. I saw Tonks go in, and McGonagall, too. She said that Moody was already down there, so I assumed there'll probably be a few more."
"You saw Tonks? So Lupin must be here too," Harry said. Tonks and Lupin had gotten married in a small ceremony shortly after Voldemort was gone, and they both seemed very happy together.
Hermione said, "He must be, but I didn't see him with her, so maybe he's just running late."
At last they reached level ten and opened the door. They quickly walked through the hallway, which was full of people trying to get into the trial, towards the courtroom. Hermione looked at her watch and said, "We only got about two minutes, we've got to hurry."
They pushed through the crowd, before finally making it to the door and getting inside the courtroom. As they entered the Wizengamot, Harry shivered at the dark stone and torches that seemed to only barely light the room. And then there was the chair in the middle of the room, with the chains on it. The loneliest chair in the world, he thought to himself. He remembered his own trial here and how panicked he felt. He hated this room.
As they tried to find somewhere to sit, Harry saw the area reserved for the Chief Warlock and the other four Interrogators. The Court Scribe had already taken his place, and was preparing for the trial to begin.
The balcony was packed with people, and Harry and Hermione had to fight their way to a pair of seats. At last they sat down, but were sandwiched together by all the bodies around them. Harry took a moment to look around, and immediately noticed some familiar faces. Almost directly across from him was the Weasley family, and Ron waved to them. They both waved back and Mr. Weasley nodded in their direction. Harry also saw Moody sitting to the back, a scowl on his face, be he got a half-smile when he caught Harry's eye. McGonagall and Tonks were sitting together further down. There were also other faces he recognized, but couldn't put a name to.
Suddenly a hush fell on the room as the Chief Warlock and Interrogators entered the chamber, all wearing the plum-coloured robes with the silver "W" on the left side. Rufus Scrimgeour was the Chief Warlock, looking as fierce as ever. There was more grey in his hair than the last time Harry had seen him, but he didn't act any older; if anything, he seemed even prouder as he limped to his chair.
The Interrogators filed in after him, and Harry was shocked by a familiar face: Lupin, which would explain why he hadn't come in with Tonks. He was in for another shock when he saw the last judge walk in. It was Snape.
Harry ground his teeth just looking at the man. Yes, he had been cleared of Dumbledore's death after it had been revealed that he had been acting as the former Headmaster had ordered him too, but Harry still couldn't bring himself to forgive the man. And Snape certainly hadn't changed the way he treated Harry either; he still had the barely cloaked contempt and sarcasm that Harry always seemed to be the perfect target for.
"Oh, this is ludicrous!" he suddenly heard Hermione hiss under her breath.
"What is?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice lower.
"Having Lupin and Snape as judges. They both have personal connections to Pettigrew, which is going to completely negate their ability to give a non-biased ruling."
"A non-biased ruling?!" Harry said, having to stop himself from shouting. "Hermione, do you really think there's any way that Pettigrew's getting out of here?"
She was about to say something when there was a loud bang on the courtroom floor as a door suddenly flew open. Harry and Hermione had a perfect view of the door, but couldn't see who opened it. It just stayed open, and whispers rippled through the room until suddenly a Demiguise appeared out of nowhere, right next to the chair for the accused. There's a useful trick, Harry thought to himself.
The creature looked around the courtroom with its midnight black eyes before turning and looking back at the door, the entire courtroom following its gaze. Walking, or trudging would probably be the better word, towards the chair was a bent-over Peter Pettigrew, and another Demiguise. The courtroom door slammed shut with another bang, and the room fell into silence.
It was time for the trial to begin.
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