Chapter Fourteen: As My Faith Begins to Crumble
“Esmeralda Moon?”
The blonde witch looked up with a ready smile as Marlene approached. Her eyes widened in surprise when she recognized the other witch, and her smile grew. She tossed down the rag she had been using to wipe clean the tables and straightened.
“Marlene McKinnon,” Esmie said, shaking her head. “I haven’t seen you since Hogwarts. How are you?”
“I am doing quite well. How has life been treating you?” Marlene answered, glancing around the establishment. The pub was bright and airy, sunlight streaming in through the windows and illuminating the various tables and chairs. The floor was swept clean and bar was practically gleaming.
All of this, Marlene knew, would be different once night came and the placed filled up with its regular brand of customers.
“Can’t complain,” Esmie replied easily, tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear. “But nothing much to report, I’m afraid. My life is rather bland.”
Marlene sighed. At school, Esmie had been someone who was always quick to smile, quick to offer a kind word, quick to forgive and forget and move on. Perhaps it was her agreeableness that had made her so forgettable. She had blended into the background at Hogwarts, and had always seemed content to stay there.
That had apparently not changed. She was still good-natured and still quiet and still so easy to completely miss even when she was the only other person in the room.
She wasn’t the type of person who would get swept up in intrigue, and it seemed cruel that she would now be in the position of having an old friend show up and ask her to turn on her boss.
But Marlene couldn’t dwell on how unfair this all was. She had a job to do.
“I’m working for James Potter,” Marlene said.
Instantly, Esmie’s expression grew cautious and wary. Her face was carefully neutral, but her eyes kept darting around the room, looking for something.
Or someone.
“I take it you’ve heard of the Evans case?”
“Hasn’t everybody?” Esmie replied softly, shrugging. “It’s been in the Daily Prophet, after all.”
“I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes about it?” Marlene asked. “About Mr. Ringleton’s testimony. Did he mention it to you?”
“I knew that he was going to testify,” Esmie answered. “I don’t know the details of what he said besides what was reported in the Prophet this morning.”
“He spoke about an argument between Remus Lupin and Lily Evans on September 15th,” Marlene answered. “He said you were here the night it happened.”
“Yes…” Esmie agreed. “I was here on September 15th.”
“And do you remember this argument?”
Esmie hesitated, chewing her lip. “It was so crowded. And Lonnie “ the other barmaid “ was sick so we were short staffed. I don’t remember much from that night. I’m not sure I could say what did or did not happen.”
“Are you sure?” Marlene pressed. “Your boss made it seem like it was quite a scene.”
“We were crowded,” Esmie said again.
“So you don’t remember if Mr. Lupin and Miss Evans were present that night?”
Esmie turned and walked back to the table she had been cleaning. She snatched up her rag and started wiping down the surface of the table. She wouldn’t meet Marlene’s gaze as she said, “I don’t remember much of anything. I can’t say if they were there, and I can’t say if they weren’t. I’m sorry I can’t be of any more help.”
Marlene crossed over to the table as well. Leaning forward, she placed her hand on top of the rag, preventing Esmie from cleaning. She waited until the other witch had reluctantly looked up at her, and then she said gently, “You always told the truth at Hogwarts. You got yourself in trouble for it a few times, but you never lied when a professor asked you a question. Why are you lying to me now?”
Esmie pulled her hand away. Her eyes were wide and fearful as she answered, “This isn’t Hogwarts anymore. The consequences are more than just a detention.”
“Consequences of what? Of telling the truth?” Marlene demanded. “Lily Evans could lose her soul as punishment for a crime she didn’t commit.”
“Do you really think she’s innocent?” Esmie retorted, flushing. She snatched her hand away from Marlene, leaving the rag on the table.
Marlene paused. How was she supposed to answer that question? She knew that James thought Evans was innocent, although Sirius clearly had his doubts. And until yesterday, she had agreed with Sirius and had been worried that James was not thinking clearly. But then the stranger had attacked James and given them so much information…
If even Voldemort’s own followers didn’t believe Evans was guilty of murdering Lupin, what could Marlene do but question her own assumptions of the redhead’s guilt?
But it wasn’t that straightforward. Evans had lied to them all along, and part of Marlene believed she was still lying. She knew more than she was saying, more than she was willing to reveal.
“I think,” Marlene said finally, “she deserves a fair trial. One that does not involve people lying from the witness box to incriminate her. You are right; this isn’t Hogwarts. The stakes are much higher here. For everyone, including her.”
“You don’t understand,” Esmie protested. “She’s not the only one who is in danger. I can’t… I can’t betray him like this. I can’t tell you… if something were to happen to them because of me… I just can’t…”
And she turned and hurried away from Marlene, disappearing behind the bar.
James knew it was likely impossibly rude of him to arrive unannounced at Frank Longbottom’s home, but this was unfortunately not a conversation that he could risk having at the Ministry. He had no idea how many people would be on Lestrange’s side, and if any of them overheard this, who knew what kind of damage would result? More than the case rested on his ability to find the truth in this mess of lies.
And Longbottom, James had decided, knew far more than he was saying.
If Longbottom was at all surprised to see James standing at his front door, he did not show it. His expression stayed calm as he stepped aside and invited the other wizard into his home, leading him through a corridor and into the parlor.
James glanced surreptitiously around. The room itself was crowded with mismatched furniture. There were a few austere, hard-backed chairs and a plush sofa forming a semi-circle around a fireplace that looked as though it had not been used in years. The small table and chair in the corner of the room were lighted by a plain and simple lamp. And though nothing was by any means grimy, the room gave the feel of not having been cleaned lately.
It all lacked what James’ mother would have called a woman’s touch.
James looked at the mantle. There were several photographs of a round-faced witch that must have been Alice.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?” Longbottom asked, gesturing for James to take a seat on one of the hard-backed chairs.
James sat down. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few more questions, Mr. Longbottom?”
“I’ve told you everything I know,” Longbottom replied wearily. “And anything I forgot to tell you probably came out at the trial. I’ve already taken the stand, Mr. Potter, and told as much as I could.”
“You spend a lot of time at your office,” James said. It wasn’t a question, but he hesitated all the same, waiting to see if Longbottom would say something in reply. But the Auror didn’t, and James pressed on, “Work is very important to you.”
“It is,” Longbottom agreed.
“And yet you went out of your way to help me,” James said. Longbottom raised his eyebrows in a silent question, and James elaborated, “You came to tell me when you were attacked at Lupin’s home. Something you did not need to do. And you went back with me to help me sort through whatever clues I could find at the… crime scene. Again, that was not something you needed to do. In fact, helping me this much would make Lestrange less than pleased with you. And the amount of influence he has at the Ministry…”
He trailed off, waiting again for a response. He was still trying to figure out how exactly to ask the question he really wanted to ask. It would be blunt and unpleasant, and if Longbottom didn’t already know the truth about who had been behind Alice’s death, this question would cause more problems for both of them.
Longbottom frowned, his lips coming together into a straight line. But he remained silent.
“The only possible explanation I could think of was that you wanted to help me. You wanted me to win.”
“Lily was my friend,” Longbottom said simply.
James bit the inside of his cheek to keep from retorting angrily at that. Everything Longbottom had said or done seemed to indicate just how little he thought of Lily’s friendship. He had not stood up for her during the intervening seven years after the last trial, had not spoken to her for three years, had not expressed even the slightest bit of concern when Lupin had disappeared on his mission and Lily had been so upset.
But it would do no good to bring that all up right now. He had come here for a different reason.
“Perhaps. But I saw your face during the trial when Lestrange was questioning you. I saw the way you looked at him. You despise him. And your hatred is personal.”
Longbottom settled himself onto the sofa and folded his hands in his lap. There was a wariness in his gaze. “And what if it is?”
“Why do you dislike him so much?” James asked.
There was a tense silence, then Longbottom asked quietly, “What do you want me to say? What do you want to hear?”
James didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes looked past Frank and focused on the photographs on the mantle. In all his interactions with Lily, the one thing that had remained the same through her dishonesty and lies was her determination to get justice for Lupin. And she had been willing to sacrifice anything necessary to see that aim through. She had valued friendship more than even her own life.
So why had she not fought harder to stay friends with Longbottom? Why had she not tried to track down Lupin?
Unless some part of her believed that they were safer without her in their lives.
Longbottom followed James’ gaze and stared at the photographs as well. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he murmured, “We knew. All three of us. Remus, Lily, and I.”
“You knew who had killed your wife,” James asked quietly, needing confirmation.
Longbottom nodded. “And we knew why.”
“Did you ever tell anyone?” James demanded. “Did you speak out against him?”
Longbottom shook his head. “It would have been my word against his. I didn’t have proof, I didn’t have evidence. I was a grieving widower. They’d all believe I was delusional with misery. I couldn’t win against him, and I knew the cost of a fight.”
“You can testify against him now,” James said. “You can…”
“Really?” Longbottom interrupted immediately. “And what good would it do? It would be seen as a desperate attempt to paint Lestrange as evil and it would all be attributed to the fact that I was friends with Lily once. It wouldn’t help you, and you know that.”
And James did know it. Having Longbottom speak out now would be perceived as nothing more than a cheap trick.
But that knowledge did not stop his frustration. How much different would everything be now if Lestrange had been held accountable for his actions four years ago? He had murdered someone.
“Maybe if we could find proof,” James said thoughtfully. “If we work together on this, we might be able to come up with a plan.”
“Potter, I’ve had four years to think over everything that happened,” Longbottom said, “and I have yet to find a solution. And believe me when I tell you that I am far more determined to bring him to justice than you are. Alice was my wife, remember?”
“You can’t just give up. You can’t keep this to yourself,” James protested. “You need to fight back. If we don’t stop evil, it will just keep spreading. I know what Lupin was, I know why he was living in poverty when he returned. Discrimination like that…”
“I’m an Auror,” Longbottom cut in fiercely. “I am fighting back. I am stopping evil. But I’m doing it my way.”
“The case doesn’t look good for Lily,” James said. “She’s going to go to Azkaban. She might even lose her soul and I… I don’t think I can stop it. I don’t think I can win. Not without help.”
“Lily’s case was hopeless from the beginning,” Longbottom answered. “And I’ve already told you that I can’t help her. What can I say that would make any difference?”
James rose to his feet, frustrated and disappointed. “Fine,” he snapped. “If you are so willing to give up, then I won’t use up any more of your precious time.”
“Merlin, Potter, don’t act as though I’m the one in the wrong for simply pointing out reality,” Longbottom shot back. “I am trying to help you as best I can. I told you about the person who attacked me, I took you back to Remus’ home. I want you to beat Lestrange. But accusing him of Alice’s death is not the way to do it.”
“Lily doesn’t have many other options left,” James argued. Going up against Lestrange on this was a foolish and desperate gamble, and it might only make things worse, but at this point he didn’t know what else to do. He was running out of ideas.
“I can’t help you with that,” Longbottom said regretfully.
“She’ll go to Azkaban! Hasn’t she already suffered enough?” James demanded.
“Lily is not the only one who suffered these past seven years. And I am not the one who has been accused of murder. Twice.”
James stalked from the room.
At the door, he paused and looked back. “What I don’t understand, Auror Longbottom, is why you would be so willing to stand by and do nothing while Narcissa Malfoy and Lestrange ruin Lily’s life. Shouldn’t friendship mean more than that?”
“It isn’t that simple,” Longbottom answered angrily, spitting the words out through clenched teeth.
“Isn’t it?” James responded bitterly. “But instead of taking her side then, you let her suffer. Just as you are doing now. You’re willing to believe her guilty of killing Lupin even when you know she isn’t.”
“I’m helping you, aren’t I?” Longbottom retorted furiously.
“For revenge on Lestrange,” James pointed out coolly. “Not for Lily.”
“I’ve already helped her once, and it cost me,” Longbottom answered. He looked away from James, his expression conflicted. It was clear that there was more he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure if he could or if he should.
“You’re the one who told me that Lily loved Lupin,” James said. “That he made her happy. Tell me you really believe that Lily is capable of murder. Of murdering him.”
“You really care about her, don’t you?” Longbottom said softly, searching James’ gaze thoughtfully. He smiled suddenly, a bittersweet expression. “Well, it is as I said. Everyone who meets Lily ends up loving her at some point.”
“I’m just her counsel,” James said sternly. He didn’t want to think about the fact that his face was flushing, that heat was rushing to his cheeks. He didn’t want to think about how true Longbottom’s words were, how much he had found himself caring for the enigmatic redhead.
Longbottom smiled knowingly. “Sure you are.”
James felt irrationally annoyed by the other wizard’s expression, and said sharply and with more venom than he had intended, “At least I am doing something to help her.”
“Alice is dead,” Longbottom spat. “I helped Lily, and Alice is dead. Do you think it was just a coincidence that Lestrange targeted my wife?”
“You can’t blame Lily for that,” James countered, folding his hands over his chest and staring at Longbottom with disgust. How could he act as though Lily should be held accountable for Alice’s death? How could he pretend that this was her fault? “You can’t blame her for Lestrange’s actions.”
“I was Lily’s alibi!”
“And would you have lied on the stand?” James demanded. “Would you have refused to testify for Lily? Would you have let her go to Azkaban for a crime she didn’t commit?”
There was a long silence as Longbottom looked away from James. His eyes wandered about the entire room, desperately searching out something to give him answers. There was tension in every line of his body, and his expression was haunted, filled with painful memories.
James turned to leave. He had nothing more to say here.
“Did you ever even think about Muggleborns or part-humans before meeting Lily?” Longbottom called out suddenly.
James paused. The honest answer would be no. He was hardly a pureblood elitist, but he had also been woefully out of touch with the reality of the lives of people so less fortunate than him. He had had no idea that this subtle discrimination existed everywhere, and he had been unaware of the war brewing in the background.
He faced Longbottom again.
“You see the world as so black and white,” Longbottom said. “You think you have all the answers. Yet you know that just a few weeks ago you were completely ignorant about some rather important aspects of this world. Do you really think you’ve now learned everything? Do you think you know enough about my relationship with Lily to understand why I can doubt her innocence? Do you think you know enough about Lily to believe her so perfect?”
“I never claimed to know everything,” James defended himself.
Longbottom snorted. “You don’t have to. It’s obvious enough.”
“Fine,” James retorted in a clipped tone. “Then explain it to me. Tell me about your relationship with Lily. What did she do to deserve your suspicions?”
“Alice died,” Longbottom murmured softly. “My Alice was killed by Rodolphus Lestrange because I had served as Lily’s alibi. I had done quite a bit of damage to his case. I was a respected pureblood, and I had testified against him. And he killed Alice because of it.”
He sat down, sinking onto the sofa. He looked suddenly so very tired and lonely.
“We didn’t know at the time. There was no way Lily could have known what would happen. We knew Lestrange was arrogant and prejudiced, but we did not know he was a cold-blooded killer. But maybe we should have known. Maybe she should have known.”
“Even if you had known it, it still wouldn’t have been Lily’s fault,” James argued.
“It was Lily who put me in that position,” Longbottom said. “It was all Lily.”
“But…” James started, but Longbottom cut him off.
“I lied.”
“About what?” James asked, confused.
“The alibi,” Longbottom admitted, and as he said the words, his entire body sagged in relief, as though a great weight had been lifted off of his shoulders with that admission. “I lied about the alibi. Lily wasn’t with me the night Malfoy was killed.”
“I don’t… I don’t understand…” James stammered, even though he did understand. Longbottom had been so skeptical of Lily’s innocence in this present case. And he had been unable to stand by Lily over the course of the past seven years, not because he didn’t care about her, but because…
He believed she was actually guilty of killing Malfoy.
“I don’t know if she killed him, Potter,” Longbottom continued, his voice flat. “I never asked. I never wanted to know the answer. But what I do know is that we both lied about that night.” His eyes adopted a far away look as his mind wandered back to that night. “Maybe a very small part of me blames Lily for Alice’s death. But that isn’t the real issue. Like I said, she never could have foreseen that. It was out of her control, it wasn’t her choice. But asking me to lie for her? That was her choice.”
“And you did lie for her,” James said bluntly. “You perjured yourself. You committed a crime.”
“I tried to be a good person,” Longbottom answered quietly. “I know right from wrong. Or, at least, I thought I did. But when one of your two best friends shows up at your door in the middle of the night and she’s panicked and frightened and she tells you she needs an alibi… what was I supposed to do?”
She stands there, terrified and unsure, and she can feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest. She can hear it, too, and wonders how it does not wake up everyone, how it does not fill the night air like the pounding of drums. The darkness closes in around her, and it is all she can do to push past the fear and the rushing of blood in her ears and bring her knuckles up to the wood of the door.
She raps quickly, jerkily. She is worried, worried that he won’t answer. Or that he will, and he’ll somehow know what has happened, and he’ll turn away from her. Will he see it in her eyes? The truth, who she is and what she has done? Will he know?
She does not have long to wait, though, and the door swings open. He steps out onto the porch and gazes at her for a moment, his eyes traveling the length of her body. She knows she looks disheveled, and the scratches on her face, the torn clothing… what must he think?
“Lily,” he whispers, voice full of concern. “What happened? Are you alright? Who did this to you?”
“No one,” she says, and then blinks and lowers her eyes. Why is she lying to him? She has come to ask for his help, to ask for a favor. She has come to ask him to do something for her, something she would never ask of anyone else.
After all, who else does she have to ask? Not Remus. Definitely not Remus.
“Frank,” she says, and then stops. Shakes her head, starts again, “Frank, please… I… I need your help.”
“What do you need?” he asks. “Whatever it is, of course I’ll help.”
He’s so good and so sweet and so unassuming. He looks at her and believes that she is in trouble “ and he is right about that, she is in trouble “ but he does not even for a second think that perhaps she is not the victim in this tale. She wipes at her eyes, brushing away the tears that still linger there. If only he knew what she wanted. If only he knew what she is about to ask of him… would he still be so willing to help?
He looks around, apparently realizing abruptly that they are still standing in the doorway of his house and it is late, past midnight. He steps back and gestures for her to follow him into the warmth and light of the hallway. She does, moving slowly, tentatively.
Hesitantly.
“Lily,” he says, his voice soft. Comforting. “Lily, please… you’re starting to scare me. Tell me what happened.”
She looks down at her hands. She feels, quite suddenly, like Lady Macbeth. Nothing can wash her hands clean, nothing can get out the spots that reveal her guilt.
“Lily,” he says again. “Lily, just tell me what you need.”
She raises her eyes to meet his. “I need an alibi.”
He studied her as she entered the small room. She smiled at him, but her expression faltered as she caught the stormy emotions in his eyes. She sat down across from him, and waited.
James didn’t know where to begin. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, answers he wanted to demand. He cast a silent spell, protecting the room from anyone who might be listening, and tried to get his thoughts in order. He was hardly ever tongue-tied, but this was proving to be the exception to the rule.
He couldn’t find the right words.
“Ringleton was lying,” Lily said finally, when James couldn’t come up with anything to say. “None of that happened. None of it. Maybe if we had known ahead of time what he was going to say we could have…”
“How would we know ahead of time?” James interrupted, his tone hard and flat. “I’m not a particularly accomplished Legilimens.”
Lily started, and then stared at him in bewilderment. Her eyebrows furrowed, lines appearing along her forehead. “I wasn’t suggesting that,” she snapped, the confusion quickly giving way to irritation. “But he was lying.”
“Perhaps,” James said coolly. “But I had no idea that he was going to testify and no indication of what he might say, and I did the best that I could given the circumstances.”
Lily’s frown grew. “I never said you didn’t,” she argued. “But if this was a Muggle trial, you would have known…”
“This isn’t a Muggle trial,” James cut her off. “We are not Muggles.”
And Lily stiffened at his words, dislike gleaming in her green eyes at his careless dismissal of Muggle traditions.
He thought briefly back to his conversation with Marlene and Sirius about that odd Muggle custom of disclosure. If they had followed that particular rule, he would have known ahead of time about Ringleton. But Lily had no reason to expect that this would happen in her case. Perhaps, as a Muggleborn who had not studied law in the wizarding world, it might have been understandable. But she had already been on trial once, had already witnessed the rules and customs of magical law.
“We don’t have disclosure here,” James added.
Lily raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you even know about that,” she said icily.
“I’ve heard of it,” James said loftily. “Although I have to admit, I don’t understand the point. Why should you be forced to reveal your hand ahead of time?”
“To ensure that each side had a chance to investigate it’s opponents’ claims and prepare for the trial accordingly,” Lily answered. She looked down, tapping her fingers idly on the desk. “It is about equality. Fairness. Making sure that you have a level playing field. It means that one side cannot use its superior resources to its advantage in order to hide crucial information from the other side. It ensures that all the necessary evidence is included in the trial, and all the unfair or unlawful evidence is excluded at the beginning so that it doesn’t accidentally get spilled.”
“Do you spend a lot of time thinking about disclosure?” James asked a bit snidely.
She met his gaze levelly. “I’ve had seven years to think about this legal system and how I would change it. Disclosure has its problems “ a lot of them, actually “ but the fundamental idea is a good one. Everyone deserves a fair chance, an equal chance. Everyone deserves justice, or as close to justice as we can reasonably give them.”
“And tell me,” James said, his words now positively glacial, “what did Lucius Malfoy deserve?”
Lily flinched briefly, and quickly averted her gaze. “I don’t understand what Malfoy has to do with anything right now,” she said firmly.
“I trusted you,” James answered furiously. “I believed you. And you lied to me.”
“I’ve told you the reason for my lies in the beginning,” Lily snapped defensively. “I didn’t know if I could trust you and Remus had been so scared that I…”
“This isn’t about Lupin!” James seethed. “This is about Malfoy. This is about his death.”
“I didn’t kill him!” Lily shot back, jumping to her feet, face flushed with fury.
“Then why did you have Frank Longbottom lie for you?” James demanded.
Lily froze. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a circle. Shock was written all over her expression, as was hurt and simmering rage. But it wasn’t any of those emotions that upset James.
It was the guilt.
It was crystal clear in her green eyes, and he couldn’t help but look away as his heart plummeted. He had wanted to see bewilderment, confusion, denial. He had wanted Lily to tell him that it was all a misunderstanding, or even that Longbottom had been lying.
But she said none of those things.
Instead, she sat down hard.
“What did Frank tell you?” she asked in a whisper. And James thought perversely that at least she wasn’t lying this time.
“That you asked him to be your alibi,” James said. “That you weren’t really with him the night Malfoy was killed. And he believes you’re guilty. He said he never asked you because he didn’t want to know the truth.”
“James, I…”
Her use of James instead of the more formal Mr. Potter startled him, and it appeared to startle her, too. She stopped speaking quickly, and chewed her lip.
“Well?” James asked sharply. “Are you going to tell me what really happened that night?”
“Is it relevant?” Lily answered. “This trial isn’t about Lucius Malfoy.”
“It seems to me that this trial is entirely about Malfoy,” James answered, thinking of the warning he had received from the strange wizard. Everything Lestrange was doing now was to make up for losing seven years ago.
“It doesn’t matter! None of it matters. I didn’t kill Remus, and that is what I am on trial for right now.” She paused, and then added as an afterthought, “I was acquitted of killing Malfoy.”
“But were you innocent?”
“I’m not a murderer,” Lily answered in a tone filled with passion and steel.
“Then why did you have Frank lie for you? Why didn’t you tell the truth?” James inquired warily.
“I can’t… I can’t tell you… It’s… complicated,” Lily answered, stumbling over the words. “It’s not just… it’s more than… more people will be affected by it…”
She looked surprisingly close to tears. The steely façade she had worn through their first several conversations was slowly crumbling, and James did not know if it was because Lily was starting to trust him more, or if the trial was simply taking its toll on her.
He supposed it didn’t really matter one way or another. Because right now this wasn’t about Lily’s trust of him. It was about his trust of Lily.
“Who else?” James demanded. “Who are you trying to protect?”
“I can’t tell you,” Lily repeated.
“How can I represent you when you won’t be honest with me?” James snapped.
Lily glared at him. “I never asked for you to be my counsel,” she replied, although her words lacked the usual venom. She was quiet, and the glare soon faded from her eyes. She stared down at the table between them, unable to say anything more in her defense.
There had been resignation in her tone. James knew that she was expecting him to walk away now. And he could. He could easily drop the case and leave her to fend for herself.
What reason was there to stay?
He rose to his feet.
Lily scrubbed at her eyes and said softly, “It doesn’t matter. Don’t you see that none of this matters?”
“It matters to Narcissa and Draco Malfoy,” James replied.
Lily gave him a searching look, but said nothing. And he turned and walked from the room.