Chapter Twelve: The Prosecution’s Case
Despite his years of serving as a barrister, despite the prestige attached to his name and the self-entitlement that came with it, James still felt the thrill of dread that ran up and down his spine before every trial. The full Wizengamot was spread out before him, dressed in somber black robes and wearing grave expressions on their features. The galleries were full as well, packed with members of the wizarding society, people who wanted to know what would happen now. James knew some of them no doubt wanted to see Lestrange humiliated as he had been seven years ago, but just as many wanted to see Lily punished.
And punished for what? Crimes she didn’t commit? Or the disgrace of being born to Muggles?
He glanced at the chair in the center of the room, placed between the two tables where the counsel for the prosecution and defense sat. The arms of the chair had the usual heavy chains, enchanted so that they could not be broken. As if a single witch could somehow escape a room full of Aurors and other fully competent people.
Lily would be sitting in that chair.
James looked up, his gaze moving towards Lestrange. The other man smiled at him, a self-satisfied smirk of someone who fully expected to win. And how could he not expect that? Alistair Bones had shown quite clearly where he stood on the matter.
It was like playing cards with a trick deck, James thought bitterly, glaring at Lestrange. The game was stacked against him, how was he supposed to win?
Marlene was at his side, sorting through a stack of parchment. She rested her fingers lightly on his hand and murmured, “Don’t. You need to keep your temper under control.”
James frowned at her, but nodded once to show that he understood, and she dropped her hand. But not before a flash startled them both, and James glanced towards the camera that had taken the picture, and the grinning reporter standing next to her cameraman, writing furious on a pad of paper.
Another story about James and Marlene’s relationship, no doubt. James grimaced and looked away, trying not to let his displeasure show. He knew many people expected the two of them to get married “ two purebloods, good friends, working together for so long, how could they not be perfect for each other? “ and he didn’t want to have to endure more of those speculations. Not now, not when he had more important things to worry about.
The doors behind them opened, and an instant hush fell over the crowded room. James watched as two Dementors floated into the room, bringing Lily between them. She looked pale and worn, and her face was etched in heavy lines. She met his gaze for a brief moment, and then looked down, focusing on walking steadily towards the chair.
She was at least wearing the robes Marlene had picked out for her.
One of the Dementors shoved her roughly into the chair, and then chains instantly curled around her arms, holding her tightly in place. She stiffened, a momentary panic blazing in her eyes at the sudden containment, but then seemed to force herself to relax, to lift her chin and stare calmly at those gathered to pass judgment on her.
And James had to remind himself that she had been through this once before.
As the Dementors drifted away, the room filled again with noise and with the flashes of light from various cameras, all eager to capture pictures of the accused. Lily did not look at them, but James could not avoid staring at the crowd, watching as they leaned forward in their seats like vultures awaiting a kill.
Alistair Bones quickly called for quiet. His request was immediately respected, and an almost unnatural stillness fell over the room. He regarded Lily for a long moment, then turned his head and looked at the young wizard sitting several seats down from him on the first bench of the Wizengamot’s raised platform. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, sir,” the wizard replied, lifting his quill and holding it poised over a roll of parchment. He was clearly the court scribe, and James spared him only a brief glance before turning his attention back to Bones.
“Lily Evans,” Bones said severely, “you have been brought before the Wizengamot and accused of the murder of Remus Lupin. How do you plead?”
Lily’s eyes darted to James for a fraction of a second before she responded in a clear voice, “Not guilty.”
Bones narrowed his eyes and nodded. In a clear voice that echoed in the stone chamber, he said, “Very well. Let the record reflect the following. Defendant, Lily Evans. Chief of the Wizengamot, Alistair Bones. Counsel for the prosecution, Rodolphus Lestrange. Counsel for the Defense, James Potter. Official interrogations to be completed by both counsel.”
James glanced at Lily again. She wasn’t looking at him, but instead had all of her attention focused solely on Bones. Her hands were clenched tightly on the armrests of the chair, her knuckles turned white from the pressure of her grip. Her bloodless lips were compressed into a thin line, and her posture was stiff and tense.
She was clearly nervous.
And James could hardly blame her.
The courtrooms had always unnerved him, and he had never entered ones as a defendant. He hated the way the chains wrapped around her, holding her in place as though she was already determined guilty. And the entire atmosphere of the room, from the dismal stone walls with their flickering torches to the fifty figures lining the highest benches, looming over them all, did nothing to soften the harsh severity and unfairness of the entire situation.
“The prosecution may present its case.”
Rodolphus rose to his feet, a thin smile gracing his lips. He did not look at Lily or James as he walked towards the witness box. Pausing in front of the box, he turned and faced the gathered audience. “The prosecution calls Frank Longbottom to the stand.”
It was not particularly surprising to James, but Lily jerked instinctively at the pronouncement. He wasn’t sure what she had expected, but Lestrange would of course call one of the Aurors who processed the crime scene to testify as to what they found. And he would clearly pick Longbottom because anyone who remembered the trial from seven years ago would remember that Longbottom was Lily’s alibi. That her supporter could turn on her now would be one more reason for them to believe her guilt.
Longobttom walked to the witness box and allowed himself to be sworn in. He glanced quickly at Lily as he did so, his eyes lingering on her for just a fraction of a second. And James could have sworn that he saw Lily shift uncomfortably, as though she was afraid of what he might say.
He supposed he couldn’t really blame her for that. Their friendship had soured several years ago, and from everything James could glean, it was Longbottom who had turned his back on Lily.
“Please state your name and occupation for the Wizengamot,” Lestrange said.
“Frank Longbottom, Auror,” Longbottom replied. He was no longer looking at Lily, and he had not yet looked over at James or Marlene. His gaze switched back and forth between Lestrange and the members of the Wizengamot, but when he spoke, he seemed to focus solely on the prosecutor.
And the dislike and disgust in his gaze was blatantly obvious to everyone in the room.
But Lestrange didn’t seem to mind or even really notice.
“Can you please tell us, in your own words, exactly what happened on the evening of September 16th?”
Longbottom blinked a couple times, then said, “I was at home when I received a summons from Auror Moody. I was to join him immediately at the home of Remus Lupin. I followed his instructions, and when I arrived, Aurors Moody and Bagley were already there. We drew our wands and went into Lupin’s home. Upon entry, Auror Moody commented that he smelled blood. We followed the smell to Lupin’s bedroom and…”
“One moment,” Lestrange cut in. “When Moody summoned you, did he say why?”
Longbottom frowned, and then answered, “No.”
“And when you arrived at Mr. Lupin’s home, did he say what had happened? Why you had been summoned?”
Longbottom shrugged. “Someone had reported sounds of a disturbance to the… uh… the Muggle police. The Monitors,” and here he paused and looked at the audience briefly before elaborating, “the people in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who monitor situations in the Muggle world in case it turns out that they are magical, they had determined that they believed this to be of magical origin.”
“Why?” Lestrange asked.
“Because it was at Lupin’s home, and they knew he was a wizard,” Longbottom answered. “A Monitor “ I’m not sure which one “ informed Auror Moody. That is why we came to investigate.”
“Thank you for the clarification,” Lestrange said with a grim smile. “Now, you were telling the court what happened when you entered Lupin’s bedroom.”
Longbottom glared at him, but continued, “It was in disarray. It looked as though there had been a fight. There was blood on the floor, and splashed on some of the furniture as well. And Lupin… he was dead.”
A quick look at Lily told James that she was close to tears. The reminder of what had happened to Lupin was clearly not easy for her to accept, and she seemed to be struggling. But there was no doubt that the trial would become even harder for her to endure, and he didn’t want her to break down now, before it had even really started.
He glanced up at the Wizengamot. Several of them were gazing at Longbottom with thoughtful expressions on their faces. Longbottom was well-liked, even if he wasn’t particularly social, and the death of his wife had added to his popularity by increasing sympathy for him. It was clear that his words carried weight.
But did they carry enough weight to put Lily in Azkaban for life? Or to have her lose her soul?
“How did he die?” Lestrange pressed.
Longbottom’s lips thinned into a straight line and he answered bitterly, “He had been stabbed in the chest. The assumed murder weapon “ a knife “ was not found.”
“Stabbed?” Lestrange repeated, feigning surprise. As though he did not know this already, as though he hadn’t known all along how Longbottom would answer. “That’s a very non-magical method of killing someone, isn’t it?”
“It was a non-magical killing,” Longbottom answered, forcing out the words.
Lestrange smiled caustically. “Indeed. Perhaps a killing more likely to be committed by someone with a non-magical background?”
“Objection!” James snapped, jumping to his feet. “Speculation.”
Bones studied James for a long moment before allowing his gaze to move languidly to Lily. It was clear to everyone in the room that he was considering Lestrange’s implied accusation, and the way his lips turned up at the ends was enough to indicate he agreed with the assessment.
Still, the trial was governed by rules and regulations, and he said calmly, almost drawling, “Sustained. In the future, Mr. Lestrange, please avoid such speculation.”
Lestrange smirked. “My apologies,” he sneered, giving James a disgusted look. Then he turned back to Longbottom and asked, “And was there anyone else in the bedroom?”
Longbottom hesitated. He was now looking at Lily, and it seemed as though he could not look away. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but the words wouldn’t form.
“Auror Longbottom,” Lestrange said, his voice suddenly harder. “Might I remind you that you are under oath?”
Longbottom blinked and looked at Lestrange. “Lily Evans,” he said hoarsely. “She was in the room. She was standing over Lupin’s body. His blood was on her robes.”
A murmur ran through the crowd and several more flashes of light indicated photographs had been taken. James refrained from rolling his eyes with great difficulty. Didn’t they already know that Lily had been found standing above Lupin’s body? It had been in the papers, it had been passed around as gossip to further feed the scandal. Longbottom’s admission of it did not change anything.
He looked at Lily. She was looking down at her lap, but, as though sensing his eyes on her, she looked up and caught his gaze.
Her green eyes were filled with tears.
“Auror Longbottom,” Lestrange continued, “do you have any sort of personal relationship with either the deceased or the accused?”
Longbottom started, looking up at Lestrange. He clearly had not been anticipating that question, although James did not know why. After all, the vast majority of people in this room would know about Malfoy’s death and the resulting trial, and would therefore know that he had been friendly with Lily in the past. Of course that issue was bound to come up.
Longbottom looked again at Lily. She met his gaze, her chin lifted slightly, almost defiantly. Like she was daring him to deny ever being friends with her.
“I knew them both quite well,” Longbottom said finally. “We were friends at Hogwarts. Lupin was best man at my wedding.” He paused, then added, “But I had not spoken to either of them in three years.”
“I see. And why not?” Lestrange pressed.
“Objection,” James said, rising to his feet again. “Relevance?”
Bones didn’t even wait for Lestrange to defend his actions before siding against James. “Overruled,” he said sharply, giving James a glare that warned him to keep from protesting. “You may answer the question, Mr. Longbottom.”
“We had a disagreement,” Longbottom said uneasily. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not wanting to get into the details. James couldn’t blame him for not wanting his privacy to be so drastically invaded, but Lestrange was leaning forward, waiting for more.
So was everyone else in the room.
Everyone except Lily, who was more than content to stare down at her hands and not meet Longbottom’s gaze.
“My wife had been killed by some sort of Dark Arts,” Longbottom said. “Lupin wanted to fight the Dark Arts and Lily… Evans… did not. We argued about it, all three of us. Lupin left England shortly after that.”
“Miss Evans did not wish to fight the Dark Arts, and disagreed with Mr. Lupin’s decision to do so?” Lestrange murmured. “Did she disagree… violently?”
“She was angry,” Longbottom said gruffly, but then he lapsed into silence and, staring furiously at Lestrange, refused to say anymore.
“Thank you,” Lestrange said. “No further questions.”
James rose slowly to his feet. He had anticipated that the first witness called would be one of the Aurors “ although he had been hoping for Moody “ and so he had his questions already planned.
“Auror Longbottom,” he said, “you mentioned that the murder weapon was not found. It was not in the bedroom?”
“No,” Longbottom answered readily enough.
“And Miss Evans did not have it on her person?”
“No, she did not,” Longbottom agreed.
“So it was removed from the room sometime between Mr. Lupin being killed and you arriving with the other Aurors. Is this correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Longbottom said with a nod. “That is most likely correct.”
“So… we are supposed to believe that Miss Evans removed the murder weapon from the home and then went back to the room and waited there for the Aurors to find her with the body?” James said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “That would seem rather foolish, wouldn’t it?”
“I suppose,” Longbottom agreed.
“Can you tell me how Miss Evans reacted to the presence of the Aurors?” James asked.
Longbottom hesitated, then said, “She didn’t. She didn’t seem to notice us at all. She was taken away very quickly so I did not talk to her. Did not even really see her. Just a glimpse in the beginning. She seemed… oblivious. She was standing still and staring at Lupin… I don’t think she saw anything else around her besides him.”
“That sounds like she was in shock,” James said, pursing his lips. “The kind of shock one my experience from coming to visit an old friend and finding them murdered?”
“Objection!” Lestrange called, not even bothering to rise to his feet. “Speculation. Leading the witness.”
“Sustained,” Bones said instantly. He narrowed both eyes at James and said severely, and with a slight threat in his voice, “Do not repeat that type of questioning, Mr. Potter, or Miss Evans will have to find herself new representation.”
James seethed silently, his hands curling into fists. But before he could say anything, he caught Marlene’s gaze. She eyed him pointedly for a long moment, and he knew she was silently telling him not to retaliate. He had to stay calm. He could not afford to lose his temper while the entirety of wizarding Britain watched. Not if he was to have any chance of saving Lily.
Forcing himself to look away from Marlene, he instead turned his attention back to Longbottom.
“Just to reiterate, when you arrived at Mr. Lupin’s house, Lupin was dead and the murder weapon was missing. Miss Evans did not have it with her.”
“That is correct,” Longbottom answered.
James nodded wearily. “Did you speak to Miss Evans after she was arrested?”
“Yes. I visited her at Azkaban. Once.”
A shiver ran through the crowd at the mention of the fortress prison. James waited until the murmurs died down, letting the weight of the words sink in. Everyone already knew that Lily had been there, of course, but to be reminded of it could not hurt. It would help explain her pale and gaunt appearance, and perhaps they would look past first impressions and find some sympathy for her.
Or perhaps not.
“And what did you speak to her about?” James asked.
Longbottom frowned. “I asked her if she had spoken to Lupin in the last three years. I asked her if she knew where he had been. She replied in the negative to both questions. She also said that she had not tried to contact him in those three years. I then asked her why she was at Lupin’s house, and she said that he asked her to come over. She had acquiesced to the request, she said, because she wanted to see him again. To make up for all the time that they hadn’t spoken.”
“And then?” James prompted.
“Then I left,” Longbottom said simply.
“Did Miss Evans at any point during the conversation admit or allude to killing Mr. Lupin?” James asked.
“No,” Longbottom answered. “In fact, she was adamant that she had nothing to do with it. She loved him and would never have hurt him.”
“Thank you,” James said. “No further questions.”
She did not bother looking left or right as she entered the courtroom. She had done this before, after all. Seven years ago, with Lily Evans the accused, Rodolphus the prosecutor, and herself a witness. The entire scenario had the eerie feeling of déjà vu, perhaps because, in some odd way, she had been here before.
Of course, last time, it had been her husband who was dead.
Narcissa Malfoy settled herself into the witness box and allowed her gaze to wander over the crowded room. Every seat was full, she noted with some interest, and the spectators were literally sitting on the edges of their seats, anxious to hear every word of the proceedings.
She folded her hands in her lap and looked at Rodolphus.
“Would you please state your name for the court,” he asked politely.
“Narcissa Malfoy,” she said softly, her voice just loud enough to be heard by those straining to catch her words. The room grew quieter as a hush fell, and she allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. She still knew how to quiet a crowd without any perceivable effort, even if she no longer frequently used that skill.
“And, in the interest of fairness, would you please state your relationship to myself,” Rodolphus continued in an empty display of honesty. She smiled coolly, it was clear that he was attempting to give the impression that he would not hide anything from the Wizengamot. As though every single person sitting on that bench did not already know how they were related.
“You are my brother-in-law,” she said. “You married my elder sister Bellatrix.” A pause, then she added, “It was very brave of you.”
That got a round of laughter from the audience and the witches and wizards of the Wizengamot. Bellatrix’s reputation was well known.
Rodolphus smiled for a moment, pleased. Then he said, “And your relationship with Lily Evans?”
Here, Narcissa wrinkled her nose, conveying her dislike of the question. She glanced briefly at Lily and was caught by the starkness of her green-eyed gaze, but did not falter. Aloud, she said, “We were friends once. But that was a long time ago. The friendship dwindled… and was gone even before she killed my husband.”
“Objection!” Potter was on his feet instantly, his face flushed with anger. “Lily was cleared of those charges,” he hissed, glaring viciously at both her and Rodolphus. “And Malfoy’s murder is not relevant to the trial at hand.”
“I will decide what is relevant, Mr. Potter,” Alistair Bones interrupted coldly, giving Potter an icily reproachful look. Potter seemed only to be even more outraged by the response, and opened his mouth to retort. But he was stopped by Marlene McKinnon resting a hand on his arm and giving him a warning look.
Several cameras flashed, taking more pictures. No doubt it would be fodder for the next round of gossip in the society sections of various newspapers. Another rumor of the impending engagement between the two close friends. A union between two pureblood families. It would make everyone proud.
But Narcissa was quite interested in the way Potter had called Evans by her given name. Lily. Did he realize how much that slip gave away about him? Did he realize that, even now, every glance in the direction of the redhead revealed so much more than he intended?
Bones was speaking again, and she looked away from Potter, listening to the conversation playing out before her.
“It would be best if your witness could keep her comments restricted to this crime,” Bones was saying gravely.
Rodolphus nodded. “Of course.”
Then Bones turned to Narcissa and added politely, “However, the court recognizes that your relationship with the defendant is necessarily impacted by the death of your husband. You may proceed in answering Mr. Lestrange’s question.”
“Thank you,” Narcissa replied demurely, staring down at her manicured fingernails. The name Malfoy still carried respect, and seven years had not lessened the sympathy she received when playing the bereaved “ and occasionally angry “ widow.
“You were explaining your relationship to the defendant,” Rodolphus prompted, and she looked back at him with a nod.
“Yes. As I was saying, I was friends with Evans a long time ago. It was mutually beneficial to us to work together in some of the harder classes at Hogwarts. We drifted apart when each of us realized that the other did not share our… priorities. I have not spoken to her in years. Not since my husband’s… death.”
There was just enough delicate emphasis on the right words to convey the impression of distaste. Those who had not heard her testimony seven years ago would know nothing of her past “ she went to great lengths to avoid discussing her friendship with Lily, after all “ and even those who did know could not help but be swayed by the way she described it now. Nothing more than convenience, and something she let go of as soon as it became clear to her that the taint of Lily’s blood could not be overlooked.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Potter sit down again, still seething.
She smiled.
“And Mr. Lupin? Did you know him?”
“No. I knew he was, and perhaps we spoke once or twice. But he was not my friend,” she answered.
“And what do you know of the relationship between Miss Evans and Mr. Lupin?” Rodolphus questioned.
“They were friends,” Narcissa answered. “Perhaps more than friends.” She looked again at Lily. The redhead was no longer looking at her, and Narcissa lifted her chin a little in contempt.
“More than friends?” Lestrange prompted.
“It was clear to anyone with eyes that Lupin loved her from the day they met,” Narcissa said dryly. “Even I could tell, and I barely spoke to him. As far as I know, they never dated while at Hogwarts, though she did nothing to discourage his attentions.”
She debated going as far as saying that Lily strung him along, used him just like she used everyone else in her life. But one look at the audience crowded into the room, one brief glance at the faces lining the Wizengamot’s bench, and she knew she didn’t have to. They already understood what she was saying, they already got the point.
Still, she couldn’t help but twist the knife just a little bit deeper into the wound. Staring hard at Lily, almost daring the other witch to lift her head and meet her gaze, she added, “I heard when they split, too. I imagine it was acrimonious if we are to believe that they really did not speak to each other for three full years. They were such good friends before that.”
Sure enough, that caused Lily to raise her head in fury, but Narcissa simply gave her a cold smile in response.
“How could he just sit there and let this happen?” James fumed, pacing back and forth in his office. Marlene was standing near the door with her arms folded over her chest and Sirius was perched on the edge of a chair he had conjured, but James was filled with too much angry energy to stay still.
He wanted to hex someone.
“Come on, mate, you know Bones has an agenda,” Sirius said reasonably, “and it’s the same one as Lestrange’s. He wasn’t going to tell Narcissa to stop talking. Not when she was succeeding in painting a very damning picture of Evans and Lupin.”
James shook his head. “None of it was even relevant,” he growled.
“It reminded everyone that she had been accused of murder once before,” Marlene said softly. “It reminded them that pretty much everyone believed she was guilty. Even if the Wizengamot did not convict her.”
“As though people needed to be reminded of that,” James muttered.
“Putting Narcissa Malfoy on the stand made it more… emotional. More real. She’s a grieving widow, even after all these years.”
“She didn’t seem to be grieving,” James snapped. “She was smug and arrogant.”
“She’s always smug and arrogant,” Sirius pointed out.
James frowned and looked away. This had done a lot more damage to his case than he wanted to admit, and he hadn’t been prepared for it. Somehow, it hadn’t even occurred to him that they would put Mrs. Malfoy on the witness stand.
“Look, it might be better that it’s been brought up now,” Sirius said finally, his voice uncharacteristically serious. James sent him a puzzled frown, and he elaborated, “It was going to be on everyone’s minds, anyway. The only reason this is getting so much attention is because of the existing enmity between Lestrange and Evans. And that has to do with Malfoy’s death. So at least they’ve actually come out and said that. This way we don’t have to worry about figuring out what people are thinking. We know what they are thinking.”
“Yeah,” James said irritably. “They’re thinking that Lily is a murderer.”
“Then remind them what Lestrange is,” Marlene suggested quietly. “They already know the relationship between Evans and Lupin… why don’t you remind them about the relationship between Evans and Lestrange?”
“Mrs. Malfoy,” James said, rising to his feet and staring hard at the blonde witch in front of him, “you mentioned earlier that your relationship with Miss Evans fell apart before your husband’s death.”
“That’s right,” she answered.
“Miss Evans was accused of the murder of your husband, wasn’t she?” James pressed.
“Yes, she was,” Mrs. Malfoy replied, and James could tell that she had no idea where this conversation was going, and she was not happy about it. He had to bite back the urge to laugh at her, and instead settled for smiling enigmatically.
Behind them, Lestrange shifted in his seat.
“She was not convicted though, was she?” James asked.
“That doesn’t mean she was innocent,” Mrs. Malfoy said harshly. “It just means that she managed to weasel her way out of trouble. It just means…”
“I think,” James interrupted softly, “that this court is perfectly capable of figuring out for itself what the meaning of the words ‘not guilty’ are.” She glared at him, but James paid no attention to that. He continued, “And who was the prosecutor for that trial?”
“Rodolphus Lestrange,” Mrs. Malfoy said.
“So… Mr. Lestrange has a past… relationship… with Miss Evans,” James said thoughtfully, turning and staring at the wizard in question. He was dimly aware of Lily watching him with a worried gaze, and he wished he could have explained this to her ahead of time. But he’d only realized in the last minute what he wanted to do, and there hadn’t been enough time between hearing Marlene’s suggestion and the resuming of the trial for him to speak to her.
He pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He couldn’t dwell on Lily right now.
“She was accused of a murder, but it could not be proven. That would be quite a blow for Mr. Lestrange, would it not?”
Mrs. Malfoy did not answer.
Lestrange did. “Objection,” he hissed. “Relevance? And counsel is leading the witness.”
“My apologies, I will rephrase the question,” James said smoothly. “But as for relevance… Mr. Lestrange already introduced this particular subject matter is his direct examination. He can hardly claim that it is irrelevant now.”
“My involvement in that murder trial…”
“Is on record and well-known by everyone,” James said. “As is your failure to secure a conviction. If the prosecutor has a prior grudge against the defendant, that is relevant.”
“Enough!” Bones ordered tersely. “Mr. Potter, you will contain yourself!”
James turned back to the Wizengamot and bowed his head. “My apologies,” he repeated. But it was too late for anyone to do anything about what he had said. Lestrange was seething and Mrs. Malfoy looked distressed, but the rest of the courtroom had heard James’ words and was thinking over what he had said.
Lestrange did have a prior grudge against Lily.
He looked at Lily and smiled, and she offered a tentative smile in return. The chains still bound her tightly to the chair, and she still looked worn and weary and almost defeated. But James, at least, was starting to feel a little bit of hope.