(Hermione's P.O.V)
I watched Mrs. Weasley sob in the waiting room. The Healers had just told her what was going on. A few people around us in the waiting room looked either mad at what they overheard or sympathetic. An elderly woman moved next to Mrs. Weasley and handed her a tissue.
Harry and I had had to leave since a woman had gone in to take pictures of Ron's injuries for evidence in the trial. I was wondering if Ron was cooperating.
Ginny looked mad.
"I knew it." she said, "Well, I didn't really know it. Jack (-she refused to call him "Uncle" anymore-) always seemed so aggrivated around Ron."
"You knew what?" came a voice.
5 heads swivelled around to see Fred and George. They sat on a couch. No one seemed to want to tell them what had gone on.
"All we know, from your letter, is that Ron was sent to the hospital," George looked slightly amused, "We don't know anything else."
I looked around. Mrs. Weasley was crying too hard to tell, Mr. Weasley was comforting her. Harry was trying to calm Ginny down.
"He," I heard my voice crtack. I cleared my throat and started again, "Ron tried to commit suicide."
Fred and George exchanged a glance of shock.
"Why?" Fred asked, sitting up straighter.
"Um..." I couldn't bring myself to say it, I felt hot tears press against my eyes.
"Your Uncle has been abusing him." Harry said, "He's been using a concealment charm to hide them. Yesterday he drank a whole bottle of Sleeping Draft."
"What?!" George exploded, standing up, "Our Uncle? Jack? No...really? God, that-"
He called him a name that would have made a Dementor drop its jaw.
(meanwhile, Ron's P.O.V)
A woman with a camera came in and ushered Harry and Hermione out. She had red hair that went slightly past her shoulders. Her kind face made it hard for me not to listen to her. She looked mid-twenties or ealry-thirties.
"I am going to take pictures for evidence at the trial," she said.
"Why?" I asked, "I'm going to be there, isn't that enough?"
"Not for the judge." she answered, "Keep your head still."
She took about three head shots.
"Okay, now can you turn your head to the right, please?" she asked.
I obliged. Snap...snap...snap.
"To the left...thank you." snap...snap...snap.
"Do you have to take three every time?" I asked impatiently.
"No. But I always do. Hmm...can you take your shirt off please?"
Not feeling the slightest bit embaresed, surprisingly, I did.
"The things some people do," she said with a sigh. She took pictures of the ones on my neck and shoulders. Then she went to the back.
I heard her gasp sligthly. Then I remembered the gash from being cut by Uncle Jack, with a knife.
"Did the Healers see this?" she asked.
"Yes," I lied, biting my lip, "They said they would get to it."
I heard the camera snap. One...two...three. Then again. One...two...three.
She was done.
"I will see you on Thursday," she said. Just before she left I asked,
"What's today?"
"Tuesday," then she left.
I slipped my shirt back on and sighed.
***THURSDAY***
I swallowed as we entered a large building. The lady that had taken the pictures led me to a rooom that probably took up half the building. Seats for others waiting for their trial sat silently.
I sat at a wooden table next to a wooden podeum. Across the aisle was Uncle Jack. He was sitting at a wooden table next to another wooden podeum. The largest wooden (was everything here made out of wood?) podeum was for the Judge.
"All rise-" a man said. I cut him out when I saw Uncle Jack stand up, for a fleeting moment he looked into my eyes. Terror ran through me. The lady, actually I found out her name was Sarah, nudged me and I stood up.
A woman that must have been the judge walked swiftly down the aisle. She had curly black hair and was in her forties (about). When she sat at her podeum, everyone sat down.
I turned around for a fleeting moment and saw my family and Harry and Hermione. I turned back when the Judge started talking.
"Mr. Jack Weasley?" she asked. Uncle Jack stood up, a slid down in my chair.
"You have been sued for abusing your nephew for a month and a half and when he was 5 years old." the judge said, I had heard her name but had not remembered it.
"No, your honor," Uncle Jack said, "I did not do anything to him when he was 5."
"Well that's not what it says here," the judge said in a sharp tone that reminded me of the tone Uncle Jack used with me when he was shouting at me, I began to shake.
"I last saw him when he was 5," Uncle Jack argued.
"Lets see what your nephew has to say," the judge turned to me. Sarah nudged me. I stood up, praying that I didn't faint.
"Honey," the judge said in a strong yet soft manner, "Tell me what happened."
I couldn't talk. My throat seemed closed up. I couldn't breathe. I could see the words yet not speak them.
"It's alright," the judge said, "Just say what happened between you and your uncle."
I wondered whther to lie or tell the truth. If I told the truth when Uncle Jack got out of Azkaban he would come and get me again. If I lied he most likely wouldn't. Maybe. Not much of a choice. Lie...don't lie...pain...maybe pain. I could hear murmurs behind me. I could feel my family, Harry, Hermione, and Uncle Jack's eyes boring into me. I inhaled shakily...thinking hard...what to do...he was going to kill me if I told the truth...he always said to lie if someone asked.
****Flashback:****
"And what do you do if someone asks?" he asked, his grip on my arm tightening.
"Lie," I answered, looking at the floor.
He jerked my head up.
"What do you do if someone asks?!" he asked again.
"Lie, sir," I answered.
****End Flashback****
When I snapped back to reality I heard people behind me whisper. I finally decided what to do...
"He got drunk." I heard my voice say, "He was drunk when I went to the kitchen to get a drink. He tried to get me to drink and I said no. Then he hit me. And he choked me. Then he told me he would kill me if I didn't come down every night. I thought he would forget since your memory gets impaired when your drunk but he didn't. He made sure I came down every night."
"We have pictures, your honor, " Sarah said, standing up and going through her folder. She pulled them out and a man came up and grabbed them. He took them to the judge who filed through them.
"Thank you, hon." the judge said, staring at me through tiny eye glasses. She nodded, intending that I sit down.
A few minutes of studying the phots later. She sentenced my Uncle 2 years to Azkaban for child abuse.
"Oh no." I said, sitting down, feeling slightly dizzy, "Oh no oh no oh no."
"What?" Sarah asked, her eyes widened as she sat down, she felt my forehead, "Are you okay?"
"This is not good," I stammered, "He'll come back and get me. He will. Once he's out of Azkaban."
"No he won't." Sarah assured me, "He has a restraining order."
"That won't stop him if he's drunk." I said, my voice shaking as much as I was.
"No one can get out of Azkaban," Sarah said assuringly.
I watched as they put handcuffs on my uncle, he was galring at me.
They walked him out a door.
He was gone.
For two years.