Carrie read the headline loud and clear, it being the largest thing ever to cross the Daily Prophet’s front page besides the numerous reports on the Boy Who Lived. The article had nothing of substance, nothing she didn’t already know. The Ministry of Magic was to summon the family members, anyone who had any acquaintance with the victims of the Death Eater’s murderous rampage, or anyone who had been a witness to their crimes. For once, Carrie finally found something in this paper that didn’t tell lies, or at least a lie she knew to be completely outrageous. Satisfied with the Death Eaters’ capture though she was, Carrie couldn’t help but feel fearful of the trial. She was definitely a witness, being a family member of one of the victims; that was not a question. How she would be able to handle seeing him, Avery, for the first time was the real question. She had no idea what kind of impression she would make to the jurors and attorneys. Would she run at Avery, cursing him, or would she reduce to a thin crumpling form of a human being, knowing that the man sitting only feet in front of her had been the one to kill her love? Could she control her feelings once he took the stand if he lied?
As if reading her thoughts, an anxious pecking noise sounded from the other side of the room. Startled, Carrie looked up from her morning breakfast and saw a small Tawny owl perched uneasily on the thin windowsill near the front room. Rushing across the wood floor, she opened the window carefully and it stepped inside, allowing Carrie to quickly and carefully unfurl the letter tied to its leg. After she had opened it the animal took flight, the rush of its wings swirling her damp hair from the cold shower she had taken earlier.
It was addressed from the Ministry of Magic, just as Carrie had predicted. After a very formal greeting and some information about the case, Carrie finally reached the component about the trial.
Your presence is requested at the trial of Tyler Mathews, Gaston Avery, and Nicholas Foreman. You may or may not be subjected to questioning by an attorney.
The letter had obviously been addressed to many others, not just to her. They probably already knew whom they were going to question. Her stomach plummeted as she realised that she had a good chance of being one of those few they chose. She shook her head to rid herself of those thoughts of how she would react to the intense questioning. Realising that it wasn’t her that was on trial for murder, her gaze softened, but her worry did not waver. She was still going to have to somehow cope with befalling the intense gaze of the attorney, being in the same room as Christian’s killer, figuring out the answers to questions she had never heard before and might not be able to recall the answer to. Sighing, she returned to her breakfast. It was the only undemanding thing she had on her list to accomplish that day.
~ * ~
“David Faraday, please.” Carrie once again played with the fabric of her cloak as she waited patiently for the secretary to return with a confirmation of an appointment with him.
“I’m sorry. He’s not accepting visitors,” the woman finally said, checking a schedule within a pocketbook.
“But this is important. It concerns the trial of Gaston Avery.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. Her mind seemed to struggling with the premise of allowing her inside to speak to her boss or not. Obviously the other woman had something important to say, but what, she didn’t know. It could be a hoax --- she’d seen it many times before, and this woman looked no different than the other ‘normal’ people who had passed through and attempted murder of the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.
“Please---” Carrie said, allowing every ounce of sadness to seep forth from her pores. She slumped her shoulders, gave her eyes a pleading stare, putting on quite a good show. Taking a quick glance to the secretary’s nametag, Carrie began to speak again. “Mrs. Simon, that man murdered my husband.” Sparing her the details of how Christian had yet to be her husband, allowing many questions to remain unasked, she gave the secretary a brief story of what her mission was. She wanted to speak to Mr. Faraday, to see if he had any insight on the case, if she was to be questioned, what she needed to say. Pretending to be a young soul with no knowledge of courtroom duties, Carrie explained her case well. Waiting for the secretary to seize the bait was the only problem. Carrie almost laughed at her audacity for doing such a thing; she was abusing her links to the case, what she had to work with. The other woman finally nodded and permitted her to pass, providing pity and compassion like no other.
“Good luck,” she added, offering Carrie a wink as she ascended the steps to Mr. Faraday’s office.
Rapping the door three times, she stepped back to permit the man to open it. The noise of a dead bolt being unlocked burst forth loudly, and the door then swung open to reveal the man. His mustache was now curled. He appeared to have showered since the hearing she had so swiftly overheard. She sensed a whiff of expensive cologne, and he now had on a different suit, tailor-made, and his hair was combed. But it was still different colors and looked bizarre. Carrie bit her lip in nervousness as he looked down upon her. His height loomed greater than her as well. He seemed to know how powerful he was compared to this stranger, this woman, who now stood outside his door, searching for answers.
“Yes?” he asked. He stared at her with imploring eyes, stepping aside to offer her a place inside his office.
She walked inside quickly, almost beginning to pace the room, but thinking better of it, quickly took a seat in the chair facing his desk. Crossing her legs, she breathed a sigh of relief, happy to have just gotten this far, to his office. Faraday, bewildered, took a place in his own chair and looked to Carrie for answers of the reason of her visit.
“Sir,” she began, finally accomplishing eye contact. Licking her lips, she struggled with what to say. “I’m here concerning the trial of . . . of Gaston Avery.” Carrie strained with the pronunciation because of the dirty taste that filled her mouth from saying the man’s name.
He seemed to understand, sitting up in his seat and lacing his fingers together, resting them on the over-sized desk in front of him. He nodded, influencing her to carry on.
She gave a nervous smile. “I have personal interest in the case.”
“What kind of interest?”
“I was close to one of the people who were murdered by him.”
“Really?” She nodded. He seemed to be amused by this. “And what do you want from me, miss?”
“I’m sorry. Please call me Carrie. Carrie West.”
He ignored her, nodding his head. He seemed to be distracted. “I can’t provide you with any information.”
Carrie averted her eyes regretfully. She knew that there had been a very probable chance of this happening.
She thought for a moment of how she was going to ask the question, then responded, “I was just curious as to what kind of questions I would be asked.”
Giving her a forlorn, weak glance her way, Faraday nodded, averting his eyes. “I don’t know the exact questions you will be asked because I’m not the prosecutor, but it should be something along the lines of what happened the day you found Christian murdered, miss.”
She nodded, figuring her suspicions correct.”
“But I will give you the information of the prosecutor working on the case. Good man. Young, but he’ll do. Our only aim is putting the three away in prison, particularly Gaston Avery.” He too said the name with an air of disgust, mirroring her own. He gave her a card and she looked it over carefully.
Riley Grey
The name stuck out to her, but she didn’t know where from. Racking her brain quickly as Faraday began to speak again, she came up with nothing.
“Have you received a letter than you’ll be called in? Are you a witness to one of the crimes?”
“Yes. You could say that.”
Faraday sensed that she didn’t wish to be pushed for answers, because he changed the subject.
“I thought that I recognized your name. You were Christian Lowe’s wife, right?”
She gave him a sweet, weak smile. “Almost.”
“I can tell you one thing. Their names. You do know their names don’t you?”
She started to nod, remembering the letter, but shook her head to see if he would accidentally let something slip.
“Their?” she asked.
“Three Death Eaters were captured. In the case of Christian Lowe, all three of them are being tried. We have reason to believe that all three men were involved in some way.”
Carrie leaned back in her chair, digesting what she had just learned, her mouth opening and closing under the hand she had sheltering it.
“It wasn’t just one? Not just Avery?”
“Tyler Mathews, Nicholas Foreman, Gaston Avery,” he offered matter-of-factly. “Obviously you know of the latter.” He unfolded his hands and retrieved a folder from the bottom desk drawer. Thumbing through it, he showed her the three by a picture similar to a mug shot, their prison numbers for Azkaban tattooed on a board they held broadly across their chests. Tyler Mathews, the man she familiarized with the hearing she had snuck in, was the only one who appeared timid, frightened of what he had gotten himself into. The other two seemed to be putting on a great, angry show, baring their teeth and screaming into the camera as the photo was taken.
“That’s really all I can tell you, Miss West,” he told her, standing. “The rest you’ll have to hear from the trial. Or if you can get Riley Grey to tell you anything. He probably won’t offer much, though.” Carrie rose from her seat as well and extended a hand to thank him.
“I wish you luck in the trial, if you’re called upon to be a witness in the case. Just remember to tell the truth and bear in mind--- you’re not the one on trial. You’re fighting for the justice of a loved one and you have done nothing wrong. As long as you remember that while on the stand, you’ll do fine.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’re very welcome.”
He crossed to the other side of the room and opened the door for her. As she stepped out and onto the stairs she gave him the warmest smile possible. She had been wrong about him. Walking into the room she had thought David Faraday an arrogant man who only thought of himself and his work. As she exited, though, she grasped that she had learned considerably more than she had thought she would entering. David Faraday was a pompous being when surrounded by other pompous beings, but unaccompanied, he was actually a very considerate person. She didn’t even see the ridiculousness of his arraying colors of hair anymore. Carrie’s head was still reeling with the possibilities of what would go on tomorrow, during the trial. She made a mental note to call on Mr. and Mrs. Lowe for guidance and to inform them on the latest developments of the suit; they always had the best advice to offer her.
*Thanks to the lovely Fresca for Beta-ing!