After disclosing Samuel’s name privately to members of the Wizengamot, Carrie was told that she was free to go. This indicated that she was also able to watch the trial unreservedly, permitted to come and go as she pleased. The trial was not open to the public, so few onlookers were perceived besides herself and Christian’s parents. She only prayed that Samuel wouldn’t be too angry with her for compromising his family for a few concise moments. No sane person would allow a family, especially with children, to go defenseless against the likes of Death Eaters. After he gave his story , she was sure that the Ministry would grant him protection. She had no way to contact him, not knowing where he resided at that moment. Brought immediately to the courtroom upon his arrival, Samuel had, of course, asked for the shelter that Carrie knew he would be granted, and the two chosen Aurors were sent off to guard his wife and two daughters while he stayed behind to tell his account.
After a brief recess, time enough to summon Samuel to the Ministry, Carrie once again took her seat, this time beside familiar faces, Mr. and Mrs. Lowe. They praised her for taking such a daring stand against the three men and turned their heads to the front as the prisoners were brought out, Avery amongst them. This time a silencing spell was to be issued and removed when the prisoners were not spoken to, preventing further interruption. Carrie wiped away a tear of relief, realizing that she really had done all right, and sat rigid and motionless to watch the rest of the trial.
Placed behind a screen and a spell that Carrie could not identify that masked his voice, Samuel told his story. Excluding not a single detail, he described the events of how Christian had been close to his daughter, Alice, and why and how she had been kidnapped, and how the compromise had been made to allow his daughter freedom for the place of another person. He informed the members of the Wizengamot that his daughter had been plagued with the information that a man she had identified as ‘Avery’ had murdered a boy in her hospital ward at St. Mungo’s while she had dwelled there.
This added another count of murder for Avery to be rendered suspicious for.
There was no limit to the amount of hatred that filled Avery’s eyes as he listened to the person behind the screen. He had yet to figure out who the man was, his voice unidentifiable when veiled by that simple spell. Tyler Mathews watched Avery with uncertainty, the look on his face pronouncing that he was just waiting for him, frighteningly, to explode and begin to murder everyone in the courtroom for sending for such a person to testify. Surely a conviction could be made with this new testimony brought forward.
“But why would Death Eaters, whether the murderers had been these three or not,” he added, pointing to Avery, Mathews, and Foreman, “have returned your daughter for the place of another? Wouldn’t they have just --- frankly, murdered them both, before the exchange was made? Why would they have allowed it?”
It had been the very question that Carrie had asked herself. She sat up, straining to hear in the dark room.
“I don’t know,” Samuel told Grey. “I have no idea. But I have my daughter, and because Christian sacrificed himself for her safe return, I will be eternally grateful.”
Associates of the Wizengamot shuffled their papers, straightening on their hard benches. The Court Scribe brought a new quill to his aid and began to finish his work. Grey nodded towards Faraday, turning away from the front of the room. They all smelled something that just wasn’t right as they looked toward the accused.
“You are free to go, sir,” Faraday told him. Samuel breathed a great sigh of relief. He then, right there in the courtroom, hurriedly exited the courtroom. Away from the accused, from the people who had kidnapped his daughter, he finally Apparated on the topmost floor and returned home. No longer would he be forced to live in fear every moment. Carrie was happy for him, for the protection that the Aurors would now give him.
“Do you deny the charges brought against you, Gaston Avery?”
A smile burst forth from Avery, the corner of his mouth twitching. It was immediately lost as his eyes connected with the stern look of the courtroom, and his expression hardened. “ ‘Course,” he told Faraday, crossing his arms, the chains clanking against the chair as he did so.
“But that is a different matter,” Grey said, returning the courtroom to the original case. “We are here on behalf of the murder of Christian Lowe,” he repeated. Crossing his arms, he once again began to stroke his goatee, deep in thought.
“Tyler Mathews,” he said, looking to the young boy. Mathews flattened his feet to the ground and looked up, his eyes still pitiful and pathetic. No one could tell if it was a pretense, just to convince the Wizengamot members, the jury of the case, that he was innocent or not. But he was a very good actor, if it was. Faraday pointed his wand toward Avery and Foreman and this prohibited Avery from saying anything.
“Where were you the night of August sixteenth of this year?”
Mathews’ eyes explored the room, searching his brain for an answer. “I--- I don’t really remember. Probably at home. Maybe at my parent’s house for dinner. It’s too long ago to remember.” He wouldn’t make eye contact. He was lying.
“Really? Would your parents vouch for you? Would anyone?”
Mathews turned around to meet his parents’ hard gaze from behind. He found that they wouldn’t even look at him.
“Probably not.”
“Then where were you on the sixteenth? Running errands for the Dark Lord? With these two?” he asked, motioning to the other two prisoners. “Is that it?”
“I was with Gaston and Nicholas, but I did not murder Christian Lowe.”
“Who did?”
Mathews turned to Foreman and Avery for answers, but they would not make contact either. They both stared off into space, waiting for their own turns.
“Did Gaston Avery murder Christian Lowe? Nicholas Foreman? You know who did, don’t you, Tyler?” Grey asked, his eyes turning sad, fake against the Wizengamot’s callous stares. Trying to equate with the criminal, he stared only at Mathews, oblivious to anyone else in the room. Mathews seized the bait just as Grey thought he would. Avery gave Mathews a threatening look.
“Just ignore anyone else, Tyler,” Grey soothed.
“I do know,” he said, childishly, slyly, just as he was a child. Being sixteen years old and on trial for murder was a serious thing. Tyler Mathews hadn’t even lived an adult life yet, hadn’t even completed childhood, and here he was, pulled deep within a murder trial. If convicted, his life would be thrown away, forgotten to anyone who had ever known him. He seemed to be slowly grasping this.
“Who was it?” Grey asked, his eyes hungry. He wet his lips, staring at Mathews intently.
“I’m---” He hesitated. “I’m not allowed to say---” His mind’s eye displayed a picture of the Dark Lord, the Death Eaters that were more faithful to the two men beside him rather than him, the same people that would certainly destroy him, in Azkaban or not, if he were to reveal the secrets of that night. His eyes stared, unseeing, reflecting on this. “I will remain loyal to the Dark Lord.”
“What happened that night?” Grey asked, ignoring his last response. He would get the boy to answer truthfully.
Mathews did not reply. He turned away, fully intent on not speaking another word. He would not be fooled into letting something slip. Grey nodded again to Faraday, signaling that he was finished.
“Court is adjourned until tomorrow morning at ten.”
The Dementors once again swept into the room to carry their prisoners back to their cells. The crowd hurried out before the Dementor’s chilling presences could ruin their already thin frames of mind. Though frightened of the creatures and their effects, Carrie waited, offering Mrs. Lowe a caring kiss goodbye as they hastened away. Grey watched the three prisoners depart with hardened eyes, entirely unlike the gaze he had given Mathews in attempt of causing him to disclose their story. After even the Wizengamot had exited from above, Grey still remained, staring off into space, his mind entrenched in theories. Carrie watched him in interest, hope filling every pore of her body. She wished very much that this man would give her the justice that not only Christian deserved, but also Mr. and Mrs. Lowe, and she, wished for. She suddenly gained an intense wish to speak to him.
“Mr. Grey?” she said, her voice echoing through the empty room loudly. The sound made the man jump as he turned around, smoothing his suit at the sight of the attractive young woman. He hadn’t expected her there. He cracked a smile, a welcoming smile, and she walked forward.
“I don’t think we’ve properly met,” he told her, extending a hand for her to shake. “I’m Riley Grey.”
“Carrie West,” she said, mimicking his warm and inviting tone of voice and taking his hand politely. At that exact moment, when their skin touched, Carrie comprehended where she had heard Grey’s name before. In the Prophet. The rubbish she distinguished the newspaper to be, she knew that the particular story’s premise had at least been true. Riley Grey’s son had been found murdered two months ago, only a week or so after Christian’s death. Because of his upstanding status in being a top attorney in the Wizarding World, anything going awry within his life was bound to make papers. His son’s death, no less murder, was a major event for the Daily Prophet, and the press had had a field day while contributing all of the facts. What they couldn’t find they fabricated themselves, thus confusing Grey even more. With no knowledge of how or why his son, Andrew, had been murdered, he had sunk into the same gruelling, painful depression that Carrie had. Losing someone so close to him had caused the love of his work to deteriorate, and he had taken a month off to rethink things and mourn his only child. His wife had disappeared a few years after Andrew had been born, Carrie had read, so to lose the only person he had left was very dreadful. After that month away, he had returned, the grief of Andrew’s death still raw and fresh, with one sole intention: to determine who his son’s murderers were and have them locked away for good. It confused Carrie, now, to see him involved in her case.
Carrie leaned against the front pew, her back pressing into the wood as she waited for him to say what was so evidently on his mind. She almost permitted pity to transfer from her eyes to his, but decided against it, knowing that she would not have wanted it from him.
“I’m very sorry for your loss. I hope that I can bring you the justice you and your family deserve.”
Carrie met his eyes and what she saw was a sincere, honorable man. Up close she saw just how attractive he really was. His high cheekbones showed that he was distinguished, a fine man. The chestnut-colored hair on his head was tousled, swept to the side. The smile he was now using on her was contagious. She thanked him with her own pleasant one. Deciding against mentioning his son, for that was not the reason they were here, she pushed off from the pew and straightened. She hesitated, but finally gave in to what she wanted to know.
“Can you tell me anything about Tyler Mathews?” she asked. She hadn’t even thought about what she was asking, hadn’t known the answer she would receive. Because Grey was the prosecutor of the case, he was bound to know more information, inside information, about the prisoners, than she did. He had also spoken with the Wizengamot as well, and listened to their opinions, as well as formulated his own. Carrie craved to know it all, but didn’t know if he would consent to it. She figured that he had better things to do than sit down and talk to someone he didn’t even know about a case that he hardly cared about.
“I can tell you that he’s sixteen, that he’s a known Death Eater.” He paused. “But you already know that.”
She nodded, indicating his suspicions correct. Was he really not going to tell her anything more than that?
“I can also tell you that I’m quite ravenous, and I want nothing more than to go to the Ledbury restaurant in Muggle London.” He looked up to find the clock above where Faraday sat stated a quarter to eight p.m. He raised his eyebrows toward her, shifting a manila folder of papers into another hand. Carrie hesitated, wondering of his intentions. She finally decided that it couldn’t hurt and agreed.
~ * ~
The restaurant was decorated with an oceanic theme. Seashells, fishing nets, photographs of burly men displaying their most prized, very large, fish on hooks covered the walls that had the appearance of driftwood. The air even smelled a bit salty. Carrie’s stomach growled for the delicious perfume the place gave off, and she realized that she was starving.
After being seated, Carrie placed her head on a fist, her elbow on the table, as she usually did. Her eyes caught his, and Grey smiled. Folding his hands under his chin, he stared at her, waiting for questions. She felt immediately close, comfortable to Grey, as if she had known him forever. She was free to say whatever she wanted, though she didn’t know what she wanted to say, wanted to know. Carrie grasped that only four months ago she had done this exact same thing--- probed someone for answers that she, in the end, wished she hadn’t ever inquired to.
“If I may ask--- why did you decide to take on this case? I thought from . . . well, since your son’s death, that you would only focus on catching his murderers.” She paused, allowing him to digest the speedy information. Her voice was going at a million miles an hour. “I don’t mean any offense.”
“None taken,” he told her courteously. Once again he took the form of a man deep in thought. His eyes rolled to the ceiling and stayed there. He breathed heavily a sigh. “I guess we could start with Tyler Mathews.”
Carrie’s eyes constricted toward his. She didn’t understand what he meant.
“I see your confusion.” He shifted in his seat. “Tyler Mathews--- I knew him before now. That is, he was my son’s best mate during their Hogwarts years.” He paused, allowing the message to sink in for Carrie. “They still could be in Hogwarts, their ages . . .” he murmured.
“Do you think that Tyler Mathews had something to do with your son’s murder?” she asked innocently.
“I don’t know.” He breathed in deeply, seeming to struggle with anger, meekness, something. His eyes were cheerless. “I try not to think about it too much. It hurts me to think that my son could have been murdered by his best friend. I can’t even imagine the betrayal . . .” He stopped, searching for words.
“Is that why you took the case?”
His eyes hardened and his jaw set. In a deep, eloquent voice, he said, “I thought that if I could get Mathews a lengthy sentence in Azkaban, I could somehow unearth why Andrew had been murdered. Maybe get the Kiss as the next sentence.” He said the words with no emotion, but hatred was clearly evident in his features.
Cocking her head, Carrie nodded. “You’re not . . .” Carrie didn’t know how to ask the question.
“I’m not planting any evidence, doing anything wrong, no,” he told her, chuckling. He had known exactly what she was to say. “I find myself fascinated with Mathews. He used to be such a nice boy--- good grades, prefect. The perfect, shameless child. But right after my son turned up missing, the papers came out and said that he, Mathews, was a Death Eater. He had apparently departed from Hogwarts a week before Andrew’s death. The question is: how did such an ideal student end up becoming one of the most flawed creatures on this earth?”
“So do you think that Mathews was just--- I guess you could say--- in the wrong place at the wrong time with Avery and Foreman for Christian’s death? That he was wrongfully blamed?”
“You’d be surprised at how evil that boy really is. That pathetic face he puts on during the trial? All an act, I believe. I don’t know if he’s murdered, I really don’t. Maybe he lives with the regret of murder.” He threw up his hands. “I have no idea if he murdered your fiancée; I have no idea if he murdered my son. I know that he’s here for some reason. I’m just going to do my job.”
Carrie nodded. He was very open. Not many would be, especially after the harsh events he had been through. Perhaps it was just that she exhibited an air that screamed ‘confidant’. Riley Grey, too, had been cursed with having no friends after Andrew’s death, and this woman had been the first person he had divulged in, even spoken to, about it.
~ * ~
Hours had elapsed since the two had stepped into the restaurant. The waiters were now leaving, coats in hand. Those who stayed behind to lock up noticed the couple seated in the back and let it go for the time being. Closing time had long since passed, but the owners were behind schedule. Receipts needed to be totaled, chairs needed to be placed on the tables, and the doors needed to be locked. The topic of conversation had long since drifted from the trial to their own losses.
“Sometimes I just feel so alone. I don’t really know what to do. I feel like I could run down the street, screaming, and no one would even turn their head. It’s so normal to lose someone, people say, but nothing like it has ever happened to me. I don’t know how to deal with it.”
“I know exactly what you mean. When Andrew died, the first thing that crossed my mind was that someone had made a mistake. I wished it were me, Carrie. A father is supposed to die before his son.”
Carrie gave him a piteous gaze, and he only stared at her longer. They had done this many times in the past hour, just sat silently and stared at the other, allowing one’s pain to seep ever so faintly into the other. Onlookers had perceived them as a loving couple, but it wasn’t like that. Now it was just two acquaintances, connecting on a higher level than most, and becoming good friends all in a few hours.
Things to speak of had expired. Carrie rattled her brain, though she relished the silence welcomingly. She recognized that Riley had been the only one to ever ask her of her feelings, to see how she was doing, besides Mr. and Mrs. Lowe. Because of their good grace and compassion, she had made it through the first two months in her life without Christian. They had told her that those first few were the worst. Now she felt that she actually had something to live for, that a friend just might need her presence just as she needed his.
Just as Carrie noticed that the place had emptied without their knowledge, the manager of the restaurant cordially walked over and offered them their check, gesturing for them to leave in a courteous manner. Carrie reached for her purse to pay for the dinner, but Riley reached a hand across the table and placed it upon her own to impede her.
“Please, let me pay.”
“No, no, no,” Carrie told him, waving him off. She reached deep within her purse to find the proper amount of Muggle money. Sifting through the bills, he put his hands on hers again.
“Please, Carrie. I enjoyed your company. Just let me do this.” His eyes were sincere, affectionate. Carrie couldn’t help but smile back in his presence, still, and she had been with him for past--- she looked at her watch--- four hours! Staring at him with a sardonic, but thankful, smile, she finally gave in. She looked down to her lap and heaved her hands upwards.
“Here’s the check, sir,” the man said, giving him a slip of paper. Riley looked at it briefly and handed the man a credit card. He went off with it, leaving the two alone again for a few more moments.
“Thank you, Riley,” she told him sincerely. Kicking her feet underneath the table idly, she felt one of her legs connect with something solid.
“Watch it there,” he told her, a smile growing across his face. That smile. When she remembered that he had lost someone so near and dear to him . . . just imagining his pain made Carrie’s heart ache for him. Apologizing, joking, laughing, they made their way out of the restaurant, arm in arm. Carrie realized that it was the first time she had really laughed since Christian had died.
-*Thanks to Fresca!