Chapter Sixteen: The Truth Won’t Set You Free
She wanders aimlessly, exhausted and scared from the events of the past few days. Malfoy knows what Remus is, and that terrifies her more than anything. She doesn’t know how he’s learned the truth, but it doesn’t really matter. She knows what he plans to do with it, and the very thought of it makes her sick.
But she doesn’t know what to do. Does she tell Remus? How can she do that to him, how can she worry him with this? There is nothing either of them can do, so can she really bring herself to add yet another burden to his too-thin shoulders? And yet, it is his life, and he has a right to know that Malfoy knows.
She continues to wander. She cannot face Remus now, which was why she was at the pub by herself. But Malfoy was there, and his presence had only made things worse.
She knows, intellectually, that she should be cold. The night air is chilly, and a strong wind rushes through the branches of the trees. But the faint haze of alcohol-induced stupor had fallen over her, and she can only smile faintly, numb. The alcohol has given her a brief respite from her fears, and maybe for these few minutes, she’ll have peace of mind.
She knows it is close to midnight, she has been walking for nearly an hour. She should go home, go to sleep. Face these problems tomorrow.
But then she hears the footsteps on the ground behind her, and turns, surprised. The pleasant humming in her mind is gone abruptly, replaced by a vicious, all-consuming hatred for the man who appears before her, moonlight glistening off his white-blonde hair. He pauses when he looks at her, surprise widening his eyes, and then a sneer twists his lips.
“Evans,” he spits.
And then, before she can react, he is closing the space between them, looming over her. She shrinks back quickly, then tries to summon her courage. But she’s still dizzy, and the world is fuzzy and moving in slow motion.
“You went to Narcissa,” Malfoy growls, shoving her backwards. She stumbles but stays upright and easily side-steps his next attempt to push her to the ground.
“Malfoy, what you talking about?” she asks sharply, trying frantically to clear her head, but she can’t think, can’t understand anything. Why is he here? Why is standing so close to her, close enough that she can smell the alcohol on his breath?
Is he drunk, too?
“You spoke to Narcissa. You told her what I was doing. She asked me about it, she wanted… she listened to you. To you! You’re nothing. Trash. Mudblood. And she… she listened…”
He grabs her wrist and she pulls backwards, tripping over herself. She is willing her body to move, but it won’t obey her commands, and the rush of oxygen that suddenly leaves her lungs only serves to heighten her panic. She feels the hot burning in her eyes again, and more pain as his grip on her wrist tightens, wrenching her arm the wrong way.
She fumbles for her wand with her free hand, relief flooding through her as her fingers close around the slim wood. She brings the wand up quickly, fiercely, but the red light that bursts from the tip does nothing to stop Malfoy. He does not even seem to notice the blood on the side of his face.
“You filth,” he snarls. “You’re always acting like you’re better than everyone else, but you’re not. You’re nothing, nothing at all.”
She sucks in a breath and tries to pull away from him again, but his body is pressed against hers, his warm breath on her face and neck. The hand holding her wrist moves, and her arm is brought up in front of her, pressed against her chest. His other hand rests on her shoulder, and then slides down towards her stomach, and…
And suddenly she is completely sober.
She can’t form a single coherent thought save for the overwhelming need to get away from him. Need to get away from this place, from his hands on her skin, from the smell of smoke that lingers in the air and brings up bile in her throat.
She kicks him, hard. He groans and releases her, and she brings her wand up again, ready to attack, ready to protect herself, ready to do whatever is necessary to get away from him.
The clock on the distant tower strikes midnight.
He backhands her and she falls, her wrist hitting the ground, the watch shattering. He stands over her, comes to his knees at her side, reaching out towards her with a look of pure malice in his eyes, and she lifts her wand and says the spell and a flash of green illuminates his face moments before he collapses to the ground.
James leaned back in his seat and studied Marlene’s expression as she slowly digested everything he had told her. It was clear that she was shocked by Lily’s confession, but there was also a puzzled look in her eyes, as though something did not quite make sense.
James tapped his quill against the scroll of parchment in front of him. The following morning would begin his own list of witnesses as the defense presented its case. And he knew he should be focusing on that, but it was hard to think of anything at all when he kept seeing Lily’s pale face and flashing eyes floating in his mind.
“What do you think?” he asked after a long silence.
Marlene let out a breath. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I… didn’t Evans tell you that she was protecting someone?”
James blinked, confused. “When?”
“The first time you confronted her after Auror Longbottom had told you about the fake alibi. She said that she couldn’t tell you why she needed an alibi because it wasn’t just her secret to tell. It affected other people.”
James nodded slowly, a bit surprised that Marlene knew all that. After all, he had not spoken directly to Marlene about that conversation. But he had told Sirius, and clearly Sirius had repeated everything to the witch. And Marlene, with her attention to detail that made her so well suited for the job of his assistant, was now focusing on every tiny thing Lily had said.
James sighed. “She must have meant Lupin.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Marlene countered. “Lupin is dead, and you already knew that he was a werewolf. So what would be stopping her from telling you everything? Why would she feel the need to protect him any further?”
“So maybe she was lying,” James suggested bitterly. “Maybe she wasn’t protecting anyone but herself.”
Marlene frowned, but didn’t say anything, and James thought back to the story Lily had told. It was clear from her explanation that she had been acting in self defense, and equally clear that she would have been convicted without any hesitation if she had told the Wizengamot what really happened. Was that enough justification for lying?
Marlene reached across James suddenly and pulled open one of the desk drawers where she had kept the articles and court transcripts pertaining to Malfoy’s death that she had gathered when James first agreed to be Lily’s counsel. She pulled several of them out and set them on the desk, scanning through them briefly.
“What happened to Evans’ wand?” she asked finally.
James glanced at her. “What?”
“Her wand,” Marlene pressed. “It was missing. That was one of the major concerns at the trial, that they didn’t have the wand so they couldn’t use the prior incantation spell to see if she had killed anyone recently. So what did she do with it? She didn’t explain that, did she?”
“She must have destroyed it,” James answered carelessly. “Anyone with any sense would do that immediately.”
Marlene nodded, but didn’t look convinced. “How did she get the scratches on her face?”
“What?”
Marlene pulled out one of the court transcripts and handed it to James. “When she was arrested, she had scratches on her face. She told the Wizengamot that she had been clumsy, but Lestrange claimed that Malfoy had tried to fight her off. So how did she really get them? She didn’t mention that in her story to you.”
“Malfoy attacked her,” James answered. “He must have scratched her then.”
“She described to you in vivid detail what Malfoy did,” Marlene answered softly. “But she didn’t mention anything about that, did she?”
James hesitated, thinking back to everything Lily had told him. And he couldn’t remember her ever stating that Malfoy had scratched her. Given all the other details she had provided, leaving that out seemed rather odd. But perhaps it had simply slipped her mind. Or perhaps she had forgotten. It was seven years ago, and she had spent the last several days in Azkaban. The prison fortress did odd things to a person’s mind.
Marlene ran a hand through her hair, studying the transcript thoughtfully. “Her watch was broken at seven minutes after midnight. But in her story, it broke at midnight. So what happened to the seven minutes?”
“Maybe her watch was fast,” James suggested. “Lena, why are you looking for holes in what she said?”
“Because she has spent a lot of time lying to you, and I’m not sure she’s being honest, now,” Marlene answered. “What did she say Malfoy was yelling at her when he attacked?”
“Stuff about her blood status.”
“No, I meant… what was he saying about Narcissa Malfoy?”
“Oh.” James furrowed his brow, remembering. “That Lily had gone to Mrs. Malfoy and told her what he was doing.”
Marlene chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. “But she had been doing that all along,” she said slowly. “By both Evans’ and Narcissa Malfoy’s testimony, she had spent years trying to convince Narcissa to leave her husband. So… why would Malfoy be so upset about it then? What had changed? What did Evans say that was any worse than what she had already said?”
“That’s a reach, Lena,” James said. “And when did you become such a defender of Lily’s innocence?”
Marlene shook her head. “That’s not what I’m saying. I think Evans killed Malfoy. There are too many parts of her story that match perfectly with what we know about Malfoy’s death to assume she made it all up. I’m just… I’m just wondering if maybe there is more to it. If maybe she didn’t tell you everything.”
“You’re determined to believe that she’s lying, even when she’s admitting to killing someone,” James said sarcastically. “You can’t believe she would ever be honest?”
Marlene looked surprised by his harsh words, and James felt instantly regretful for what he had said. It wasn’t Marlene’s fault that he had learned this unpleasant truth, and he shouldn’t take his frustration with Lily out on her. But he couldn’t deny that he was frustrated and upset by everything.
Lily had killed someone.
But it was self-defense. That meant something, didn’t it?
Finally, Marlene said, “Why are you so ready to change your mind? You were singing her praises just a few days ago.”
“I…” James stopped, sighed. “I just…”
Marlene gave him a shrewd look, and said, “You really liked her. You… Sirius was right, you do fancy her. But more than that. You…” She trailed off with a sigh. “Fine. Maybe I am reading too much into these discrepancies. But James, the whole reason you hired me to work for you was because I am good at finding details that don’t quite fit. That’s what I do, remember? I’m detailed-oriented.”
“I know,” James agreed. “And look… I’m sorry for snapping at you. It’s just been a stressful couple of days.”
Marlene waved off his apology. “Don’t worry about it,” she said lightly. “Let’s just focus on the present trial. You need to finalize your witness list.”
But that was easier said than done. How could James focus on the present when his mind was still stuck on the past?
He didn’t know what to think of Lily now, and that was bothering him. The last seven years, she had been tormented and discriminated against because of Lestrange’s fury and Narcissa Malfoy’s desire for revenge, and all along James had thought that Lily didn’t deserve that. But she had killed Malfoy, and so…
Did she deserve it?
But no… he shook his head, shoving away the thought. Lily hadn’t deserved any of it. Even if she killed Malfoy, it had clearly been in self-defense. It had been Malfoy who had attacked her, Malfoy who had tried to hurt her and the people she cared about, tried to ruin her life. Lily had been the victim.
His internal conflict must have shown on his face, because Marlene said suddenly, “Do you think Evans is a good person? Forget everything about either of these trials and just go with your instinct. Do you think she is a good person?”
“Yes,” James said emphatically.
“Then go with that,” Marlene said. “Trust that she is still a good person, and that she only did what she had to do because there was no other choice. Malfoy would have killed her and destroyed Lupin. And if Malfoy had become Minister and Voldemort had risen to power, a lot more would have been ruined than just those two lives.”
James looked at her, then nodded. “You’re right.” Then he asked with a faint smile, “But when did you suddenly start liking Lily? You haven’t been a big fan of hers during this trial.”
“I haven’t liked all of her lies,” Marlene said quietly. She hesitated for a moment, then added, “But I keep thinking… if Malfoy had done to me what he was doing to Evans, if he had threatened you the way he had threatened Lupin, who is to say that I wouldn’t have ended up killing him?”
James narrowed his eyes at the thought of Marlene in that kind of danger. She was one of his best friends, and since starting at Hogwarts, they had been so close that he had thought of her as a sister. And he always protected his family.
“You wouldn’t have had to kill him,” he said vehemently, feeling a sudden surge of anger. “Because Sirius or I would have done it first.”
“So, I was thinking…”
“That’s always a bad sign.”
Sirius glared at James, then rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink. The bar was crowded, and he had no idea why James would have chosen this as a place to spend the night before his part of the trial began. James certainly knew how to have a good time, but he also took his job seriously and didn’t usually blow off his responsibilities like this. But James had been shaken by Evans’ revelation, and evidently needed some time away from the office.
Too bad Sirius wasn’t going to let him not discuss the case. There was too much at stake here. And he knew, better than most, what the war could cost them. He had no doubt that his brother would end up involved with Voldemort “ if he wasn’t already “ and Sirius wasn’t going to let that happen without a fight.
“I was thinking,” Sirius continued, “about whatever it was that Lupin found.”
“That he may or may not have hidden in his home and that may or may not have been found by whoever attacked Longbottom?” James said. “What about it?”
“Okay, imagine that you are Lupin,” Sirius said, leaning forward and lowering his voice so the conversation wouldn’t be overhead by any of the other patrons. “Imagine that you’ve found something important, something that you know Voldemort wants. And you know he’ll kill to get it back. So you’re scared, but you’re also determined to keep it away from him. What do you do?”
James contemplated this for a moment, then said, “I hide it.”
“Where?” Sirius prodded eagerly.
“Um… somewhere safe?”
“Right,” Sirius agreed. “But you wouldn’t want to hide it in your own home. That would be idiotic. Anyone would think to look there first. So what do you do?”
James blinked a couple times. “Give it to someone you trust? Like Dumbledore?”
“What if you don’t have time? Dumbledore is away on business and you are convinced that you are being followed. You don’t know who to trust at Hogwarts so you don’t take it there. You know you can’t trust the Ministry, either, because Lestrange has too much power there. So what does that leave you with?”
“I don’t know… a friend…?” James suggested, then trailed off as recognition dawned in his expression. “You don’t think…?”
“Lupin went to visit Evans the morning he was killed, right? But he didn’t want to talk then. In fact, he refused to talk then. So if he wasn’t going to talk to her at that moment, why did he show up? Why didn’t he just send an owl and ask her to come by his place in the evening?”
“He hid whatever he found somewhere in Lily’s apartment,” James breathed. “She must have left him alone for a few minutes… And he didn’t tell her because he was hoping that she wouldn’t get dragged into this mess. He was terrified, and he didn’t want her to get hurt.”
“He probably didn’t even want to hide it in her home, but he knew he didn’t have much of a choice. He couldn’t keep it with him… and who else would he trust?” Sirius agreed. “I’m going to Evans’ place now. I’m going to check it out, see if I can find… whatever this thing is.”
James nodded. “Okay. Okay. I can come with you.”
“Shouldn’t you go back to your office and prepare for tomorrow?” Sirius asked skeptically.
James raised his eyebrows. “When did you become the responsible one?”
“Stopping Lestrange is important, you said so yourself,” Sirius reasoned. “And I am capable of being responsible on occasion.” Then he smirked and added, “I can’t help it if my irresistible good looks and charm often make me seem roguish.”
“Irresistible good looks and charm,” James repeated sarcastically. “Right. Still… I’m coming with you.” His expression grew grave as he explained, “If we were able to figure this out, then maybe they were, too. Someone already tried to kill Longbottom. This could be dangerous.”
“I live for danger!” Sirius proclaimed.
But James could not be dissuaded, and the two of them left the bar together.
They arrived at Evans’ home and entered quickly and without any hesitation. Any conversation that they might have had along the way was put on hold as they both tried to focus on their task. And the silence was not unwelcome. James had a lot of his mind, but so did Sirius, and as they wandered aimlessly around Evans’ small home, trying to figure out exactly where Lupin would have hidden whatever object he found, Sirius could not help but think of Regulus.
Just the mention of his brother’s name filled him with a combination of anger and dread. It had been years since Regulus had looked up to him, years since Regulus had treated him with anything but contempt. Being sorted into Gryffindor had done more than disappoint his parents, it had irrevocably changed things with Regulus as well. And he stubbornly tried to pretend that it didn’t matter, but it did.
When Regulus was just a conceited, prejudiced, self-absorbed git, Sirius could easily ignore him. Now that he was possibly in league with murderers and a Dark wizard intent on taking over Britain… well, that was something else entirely.
Sirius tried not to think about it, and looked around instead.
Evans’ living room was small and neatly organized. There was a table by the door and a few chairs forming a semi-circle in the center of the room. A lamp, a bookshelf, a small cabinet, a worn rug. The austerity of the place reflected the fact that she had been living near poverty, but she had still managed to make the place feel like a home. The carpet was a dark red, the lamp a contrasting gold, and the chairs were covered with plush cushions. Despite the simplicity of the room, it looked far more inviting than Sirius’ grand childhood home ever had.
Everything was covered in a thin layer of dust.
James was already wandering towards Evans’ bedroom, and Sirius smirked slightly at that. Raising an eyebrow suggestively at his friend, he asked, “Any reason you want to look in that room?”
James shook his head in exasperation at Sirius’ comment and said, “It would be a safe place to hide the object, wouldn’t it?” His tone was almost daring Sirius to contradict him.
Which Sirius was happy to do. “Yes, but don’t you think Evans would have noticed if Lupin was wandering around her room? We know he only visited her place once since his return “ at least according to Evans “ and I doubt she just left him alone for a long time. She hadn’t seem him in three years.”
“So where do you think it would be?” James demanded.
“Somewhere in the living room,” Sirius replied, spreading his hands wide. “Easiest place for Lupin to get access to. He was probably standing here the whole time and just had to wait until Evans’ back was turned or she stepped out of the room for a minute.”
James sighed, but shrugged in acquiescence. “Fine.”
They started hunting through Evans’ stuff, and Sirius wondered idly what she would say if she knew that he and James were going through her books. She didn’t seem like the type who appreciated having her privacy invaded, even with something as harmless as her book collection.
Of course, he supposed she would still prefer this to James going through her undergarments.
Most of the books had titles he didn’t recognize, and he assumed that some of them were Muggle books. There were also several books on magical history and a few on complicated magical theory.
“So she’s attractive and brainy,” Sirius mused, pulling out a copy of Advancements in Arithmancy. “And apparently boring.”
“Boring?” James echoed incredulously.
Sirius held up the book. “She reads about Arithmancy for fun.”
James said nothing, just stared at the book morosely, and Sirius placed it back on the bookshelf. He was about to straighten up when something caught his eye. Although the floor had a fine film of dust over it, there appeared to be a set of tracks around the perimeter of the room.
“Hey, James, look at this,” Sirius said, bending down to examine the footprints. They were light and hard to see, but the dust was displaced just enough for Sirius to be sure that this wasn’t some odd coincidence.
Someone had been in this room recently. Someone had been here since Evans had been taken to Azkaban.
James knelt down next to Sirius. “Those are small footprints,” he said quietly. “They had to have been made by a woman. A witch.”
“The same one who attacked Longbottom?” Sirius asked sharply.
“Maybe…” James trailed off, following the footprints with his eyes. “They lead to that cabinet,” he concluded, pointing to a small cabinet in one of the corners near the door.
Sirius walked over to it briskly and pulled it open. It was filled with knickknacks: two porcelain flowers “ a lily and one that Sirius thought might have been some kind of petunia “ a set of keys, a perfume bottle, a couple magazines. Nothing out of the ordinary.
The last shelf formed the top of a drawer, and James reached past Sirius and pulled it open impatiently. It was a small drawer, perhaps big enough to fit a few small books or other equally flat objects. It was stiff and hard to open, as though the wood had warped and no longer fit exactly into the allotted space.
It was empty.
It was also completely devoid of dust.
James let out a breath. “Someone was in here recently,” he said. “And whatever was in this drawer…”
“They removed it,” Sirius finished.
“It’s not a particularly good hiding spot,” James remarked after a momentary pause. “I would have looked for something like a hidden room.”
“Not everybody has hidden room in their houses,” Sirius answered, shaking his head in bemusement. “And maybe Lupin didn’t have a whole lot of time. Maybe he thought this was good enough. Maybe he didn’t plan on leaving it here that long. Just until he could get it to Dumbledore.” He looked at James and finished grimly, “Maybe he didn’t plan on getting murdered.”
“Well, whatever it is, it’s gone now,” James sighed.
And it was at that exact moment that the door burst open and a cloaked figure came running into the room. Sirius reached for his wand, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw James do the same. But the figure who had entered was faster, and apparently did not want to fight with wands.
He punched James in the face.
James stumbled and fell to the ground, and Sirius brought up his wand and uttered a spell. A jet of red light issued from his wand, and the attacker jumped out of the way. His hood fell back then, revealing matted hair and whiskers on his face, and sores at the corners of his lips. He was smiling, showing pointed teeth, and his bright eyes glittered malevolently.
He waved his hand and Sirius was hit with a strong force that flung him backwards. He hit the wall and has the wind knocked out of him. On his hands and knees, he stared up at his opponent in disbelief.
The other man had incredible control over wandless magic to be able to conjure such an attack.
“Where is it?” the man snarled in a low, raspy voice. “Where is it?”
James had risen to his feet and had his wand out, pointed directly at the stranger. “Where is what?”
“What Lupin stole from the Dark Lord,” the man snarled. “You came here for it, I followed you. I’ve been following you. Where is it?”
“Who are you?” James demanded, holding his wand threateningly. Sirius climbed back to his feet and followed James’ example, eager for the opportunity to duel. James must have seen that in his friend’s eyes, because he said in a softer voice, “Not yet, Sirius. Wait and see what he says.”
“Where is it?” the man repeated, a note of desperation in his voice. “I will kill you and pry it from your fingers if I must.” And he gnashed his teeth together.
“We don’t have it,” James answered. “It’s not here. It was never here.”
Sirius started a bit at James’ lie, but said nothing.
“Liar!” the man cried, and drew his wand in one fluid movement. Sirius shot off a quick stunning spell, but the stranger conjured a shield that shimmered between them and absorbed the force of the spell.
“Expelliarmus!” James shouted, but his spell bounced harmlessly off the shield that was still in place.
Sirius decided in that moment to follow the example of his opponent, and ignoring the wand in his hand, he launched himself forward and slammed his fist directly into the other man’s nose. The man reeled and fell back, scrambling to keep his footing.
Sirius hit him again, this time in the jaw.
And again in the stomach.
The man smelled like dirt and sweat and blood, and Sirius had to fight the urge to gag at the stench. There was something inhuman in his eyes, and something animalistic in his rage. He grabbed Sirius by the shoulders and shoved him backwards.
“Incendio!” he spat, and a blaze of fire illuminated the room. The air was filled with heavy smoke that stung Sirius’ eyes and made him cough. But the stranger did not even seem to notice the side-affects of his spell. “The Dark Lord will come! He wants it back and he’ll come for it,” he warned.
Then he turned on the spot and Disapparated, and the fight was over just as abruptly as it had begun.
“What in Merlin’s name was that?” James breathed as he waved his wand around the room and put out the fire.
“Someone who works for Voldemort,” Sirius replied, feeling a surge of anger at the fact that the man had escaped. “Coward,” he hissed. “He should have stayed and fought us.”
“He was outnumbered,” James replied wearily. “He had the element of surprise in the beginning and some impressive wandless magic, but he wouldn’t have lasted long.”
That did nothing to calm Sirius’ anger, and he kicked sullenly at the floorboards, flexing his fingers and then curling them into fists.
James pocketed his wand.
“Was he the same wizard from before?” Sirius asked finally, thinking back to the stranger who had accosted James in the alley and given him all the information about Voldemort. It seemed unlikely, because that wizard had been interested in imparting knowledge and this one seemed more inclined to fight, but Sirius still felt the need to ask.
James shook his head. “And it wasn’t the witch who attacked Longbottom, either. How many people are involved in this? And whose side are they all on?” He frowned, and added a bit worriedly, “He said he had been following us. We should get out of here in case he comes back with friends.”
Sirius smiled grimly and said, “We could take them.”
James rolled his eyes. “Depends on how many he brings. And we’re not going to stick around to get attacked by more people.” He reached over and closed the cabinet, then said, “Come on, let’s go.”
Sirius reluctantly followed him to the door. He paused, and took one last look at the room. “They don’t have it.”
“What?” James asked, confused.
“Whatever Lupin stole. Voldemort doesn’t have it yet. Otherwise that… man… wouldn’t have been looking for it. So whoever took it from here… assuming that it was what was hidden in that drawer… didn’t take it to Voldemort.”
James accepted this in silence, then slowly asked the same question that Sirius had been thinking, “But if he doesn’t have it, and we don’t have it… who does?”
“Sirius Black came to speak to me,” Dumbledore said gravely, looking at his companion. “He had quite interesting news to report, Alastor. James Potter sent him.”
“Sirius Black,” Moody said with a bit of derision. “His whole family is filled with Dark witches and wizards.”
“But he isn’t one,” Dumbledore countered. He rested his hands on his desk and interlocked his long fingers. “It seems that one of Voldemort’s followers confronted James.”
“He tried to fight Potter?”
“No. He wanted to speak to him. Wanted to tell him about Voldemort and what happened seven years ago.”
Moody frowned, wrinkles appearing on his face. “You mean…?”
“Yes.” Dumbledore shook his head. “James didn’t know who it was, the wizard kept his hood on the entire time. But he told James all about Voldemort’s plans, and how Malfoy’s death interrupted everything.”
Moody leaned forward interestedly. “That was all conjecture, Dumbledore. Your assumption that Malfoy was poised to take over the Ministry, that his death was what stopped Voldemort’s plan… there was never any proof of that.”
“And you there are only a few in whom I confided my theories,” Dumbledore said. “So it seems that we now have proof of the truth of those theories. This informant told James everything we suspected to be true. And, actually, more than that. Lestrange was supposed to take over the Wizengamot, and Rookwood was to have control of St. Mungo’s.”
Moody was silent for a moment. “Three of the four more important institutions in wizarding Britain.”
“Exactly,” Dumbledore agreed. “But then Malfoy was killed.”
“And Lestrange couldn’t secure a conviction against Evans,” Moody said grimly. “Voldemort couldn’t have been pleased about that.” There was a shrewd look in his eye as he asked, “Is that why Bones is now the head of the Wizengamot?”
“Probably. Which means it is just as important to him to get a conviction this time as it is to Lestrange. It won’t reflect well on either of them if Lily escapes Azkaban twice.” Dumbledore leaned back in his seat and pinched the bridge of his crooked nose. “However this trial ends, it will be the beginning of a war.”