Chapter Nineteen: Closing Arguments
She settled herself into the witness box with an incredible amount of trepidation. James’ reassurances had done nothing to calm her frayed nerves, and though the few secrets they had shared had made her feel inexplicably closer to him, they did nothing to help her prepare for this trial, for this moment.
She glanced over at James. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the Wizengamot. She didn’t know what she would see there. Perhaps disgust or loathing, or just ill-concealed excitement. It was no secret to anyone that this trial was being sensationalized in the newspapers, but it also didn’t need much in the way of embellishment.
An old rivalry. A secret mission. A mysterious Dark Lord. A possibility of war.
The only thing needed now was two star-crossed lovers and the story would be complete.
James was smiling at her, but the expression did not reach his eyes. There was a sadness in them, and a resolute determination. For all his cocky arrogance in the beginning, he had not hesitated to throw himself into this coming war, to pick a side and prove to the world that he would not stand for the twisted ideals of blood purity.
She wondered vaguely if she should trust him with the full truth of Malfoy’s death. He had stood by her side throughout all her lies, and even if it was to serve his own ends, to defeat Lestrange… was it her imagination, or had she seen sympathy and maybe even understanding in his eyes when they spoke this morning?
James rose to his feet and walked over to her, and she drew a shaky breath.
She would not look at Lestrange, either. There was no reason, she knew what she would see there. Contempt, of course, and disgust. Hatred. And a burning desire to see her destroyed.
“Please state your name for the Wizengamot,” James said.
“Lily Evans,” she said. Her voice sounded quiet and tentative, and lacked the usual flare of passion that accompanied everything she normally did. Azkaban had drained that from her, just like it had taken her defenses. The solid walls she had built up over the years to protect herself from the turmoil of everything that had happened to her had crumbled without much protest over her stay in that prison.
It had been a long time since she had felt this vulnerable.
“Miss Evans, are you aware that you are on trial for the murder of Remus Lupin?” James asked.
“Yes,” she said. Her hands started to shake.
The vulnerability, she thought to herself, might not be entirely due to Azkaban. James had surprised her by slipping through her defenses as well. He had not gotten under her skin quite the way she knew she had gotten under his, but there was no denying that fact that she had revealed truths to him that she had not told anyone else. Perhaps logically she could say that he had backed her into a corner, but that wasn’t the real truth. She could have lied.
She had plenty of practice with that.
“Can you please tell us about your relationship with Mr. Lupin,” James said. He turned away from her and looked at the Wizengamot and she resolutely did not follow his gaze. She knew staring straight out into space as she spoke would only underscore her guilt “ why else would she be afraid to look at the Wizengamot? “ but she had not yet worked up the nerve to see what they thought of her.
“Remus and I met on our first day of Hogwarts. We were sorted into the same House and… we became friends. Best friends. We spent all of our free time together, we studied together, we sat together in class. It was the two of us and Frank… Frank Longbottom.”
“And how long did this friendship last?”
“Remus and I started dating about four years ago,” Lily answered. “The relationship lasted for a year. He…” She stopped, her throat suddenly dry. It took her a moment to force the words out, but finally she said with choked emotion, “I loved him.”
She wasn’t in love with him. She had never been in love with him, and she knew that now. She had never felt the same kind of love for him that he had felt for her or that Frank and Alice had felt for each other.
But she had loved him.
And how he was dead.
Tears pricked at her eyes. She blinked a few times, trying to keep them at bay.
“But the relationship eventually ended,” James prompted.
Lily nodded. “We argued a lot during that year. It was right after Alice… Alice Longbottom… had been killed. Frank was devastated and Remus… he wanted to do something about it. He wanted justice, he wanted revenge… and he wanted to fight the Dark Arts. It was a Dark curse that had killed Alice and… he went to Dumbledore. He told Dumbledore that he wanted to fight but… but he didn’t know how or who to fight and… and did Dumbledore have anything he could do?”
“And what did the Headmaster say?”
“He sent Remus on these missions. Remus wouldn’t take about them much, so I only knew a few of the details. But what I did know, what I could see for myself, was that he would come home with bruises and scars. I was scared. Alice had died and… I saw what it did to Frank. I saw how it nearly destroyed him and I didn’t want… I didn’t want Remus to get hurt.”
“How did the relationship end?”
“We had an awful fight one night,” Lily said. “It was Frank and Remus and I. Frank left early and Remus and I were still fighting and then… Remus left. He went to Dumbledore and accepted a mission that would… it was a long-term one. He didn’t know when he would be back. It was three years until I saw him again.”
She stopped and chewed her lip. It hurt just talking about it, hurt thinking about how much had been lost. In retrospect, she knew she hadn’t been as understanding to either Remus or Frank as she should have been. But she also wondered how much difference it would have made. The problems with Frank went back so much further than that fight, back to the night she had asked him for an alibi. And Remus…
Well, she was fairly certain that he would have continued with these dangerous jobs regardless of how she had reacted. And maybe he still would have been killed.
“Did you speak to Mr. Lupin at all during the past three years?” James asked gently, his voice pulling her from her troubled thoughts.
“No,” she said simply.
“When did you next see him, then, after this argument?”
“Not until the day he was killed,” Lily whispered.
“You’ll need to speak up, Evans, we can’t hear you when you mumble,” Bones cut in sharply, and she found herself looking at him and the rest of the Wizengamot without meaning to. He was gazing at her with disgust and dislike, but she had expected that. It was the other faces that drew her attention, and she found herself entirely unable to look away.
Most of the witches and wizards on the Wizengamot were staring at her with fascination and curiosity, as though she was an unusual or exotic specimen that they wanted to study, like a giant bug under a Muggle telescope. It made her uneasy, and worse, it made her feel judged.
Of course, they were the Wizengamot, they were supposed to judge her. But they were supposed to judge her for this specific crime, and yet if the expressions in their eyes were any indication, they were judging her for so much more than that. They were judging her worth as a witch and a human being beyond the heinous crime she had supposedly committed.
They were judging her blood.
“Miss Evans,” James said, his voice suddenly forceful. She snapped her gaze back to him, realizing that she had let her mind drift away and had not answered Bones’ comment.
“Not until the day he was killed,” she said in a louder tone, this time glancing very quickly at Bones “I didn’t see Remus again until the morning before he… before he died.”
“Robert Ringleton testified that you and Mr. Lupin met at his pub on the evening of September 15th,” James countered.
Lily sighed. “Mr. Ringleton was mistaken,” she said. She would have preferred to state bluntly that he was lying, but she and James had been over this subject in their preparations the day before, and had insisted that she not outright accuse Ringleton of anything. Accusing someone else of anything while she was the one on trial for murder would only make her look desperate, and that would in turn increase the perception of her supposed guilt.
Besides, enough people on the Wizengamot had read the Daily Prophet article and believed the accusations leveled against Lestrange. They didn’t need her to repeat any of what had been written there.
“And Sethos Avery? He testified that he saw Remus leaving your home on September 16th, the day he was killed. Was he also mistaken?”
She shook her head. “Remus did come to see me that morning,” she answered. “I did not follow him from my home so I cannot speak to the truth of Mr. Avery’s comments about what happened after he left, but Remus was with me that morning.”
“Can you tell us what happened during that visit?” James prompted.
“He showed up at my door without any warning. I… I had no idea he was even back and then… I hadn’t spoken to him in three years, Mr. Potter, so I was quite shocked to see him there. And he…” Her throat constricted. It felt as though something heavy was pressed against her chest. She could barely breathe through the tumultuous emotions that were plaguing her.
James was smiling at her encouragingly. Beyond him, the rest of the audience was listening with rapt attention. She could sense all their eyes on her, and as she slowly forced herself to look at them, to allow her gaze to sweep over the room, she felt almost nauseous.
She couldn’t adequately explain what she felt upon seeing him on her doorstep. None of it had made any sense then, and it was only starting to make sense to her now. Her emotions had been so jumbled, and she had been so hurt and so angry that he had actually presumed to show up without any warning, and so relieved to see him alive.
But thoughts of their last fight lingered in her mind, as did James’ pointed question from earlier.
Had Lupin been wrong to take the job from Dumbledore? He hadn’t known the details about Voldemort, hadn’t known of the plan involving Malfoy and the others, had never really comprehended how close they had come to losing everything that made their society even remotely worthwhile. But she had known. Not the details, not enough… but she had known.
“Remus was afraid,” she said, forcing her thoughts back to the trial, to the questions she was supposed to be answering. “He told me he thought he was being followed. He thought he was in danger. He didn’t want to stay long for fear that he would lead his enemies to me. I tried to convince him to stay, to let me help, but… he wouldn’t listen. He asked me to come to his flat that evening and then he left before I could stop him.” She let out a shaky breath. “He was afraid, but he wasn’t afraid of me.”
James nodded. “Thank you.”
And now was the hard part. Now Lestrange would have the chance to ask his questions, and Lily was not sure how she could face him.
“Miss Evans,” Lestrange said, rising to his feet and giving her a cold smile, “your parents were both Muggles, correct?”
“Objection!” James snapped instantly. “Relevance?”
“Overruled,” Bones said lazily.
Lily glanced at James and saw the frustration in his eyes. She couldn’t blame him for being annoyed, but she was also able to be realistic enough to know that her blood status was relevant, and always would be.
“Yes, both my parents were Muggles,” Lily replied steadily, looking at Lestrange and taking in the contempt and disgust she saw there.
“And you first learned about magic and Hogwarts when you received your letter inviting you to the school,” Lestrange continued with a bit of a sneer. “For the first eleven years of your life, you knew nothing about this world or its rules and mores.” His words were dripping with disdain, as though this lack of knowledge and experience would tarnish her for life.
Lily swallowed. “That is correct.”
“You argued quite a bit with Lucius Malfoy, didn’t you?” Lestrange said, walking towards her in what could only be described as a predatory manner. “Narcissa Malfoy testified that you were friendly with her at Hogwarts, but your friendship dwindled. Was that because of your dislike for her husband?”
Lily couldn’t help but frown. She had no idea where this line of questioning was going, and did not like it. She did not like the fact that he could be leading her into some type of trap, prepared to twist her words until their meaning was completely changed, until he had her saying something she did not believe.
She glanced quickly at James, but he was looking at Marlene McKinnon and did not notice her gaze.
“There were several reasons why our friendship ran its course,” she said finally. “My dislike of Lucius Malfoy was only one of them.”
“I believe you told Narcissa that Lucius wasn’t good enough for her. That he was a bad influence. And when she became pregnant, you said he would make a bad father.”
“Objection!” James snapped again. “Relevance?”
“Overruled,” was the immediate reply.
Lily looked down at her hands folded tightly in her lap. She could feel James and Lestrange both looking at her, but she could not meet their gazes. She was holding her breath, unable to think of anything but the terror she had felt as Malfoy had advanced on her, an inhuman look in his eyes.
There was so much she had never told anyone. So much about that night, about what had really happened. And it had weighed heavily on her for seven years, eating away at her conscious and feeling her with either rage or guilt. She wanted to tell James. He deserved to know the truth “ the full truth “ but she just couldn’t figure out how.
It affected more than just her. There were other lives at stake, other people who would be ruined by the truth. It was more than just her secret.
But was it a secret she would take to her grave? Or was it one she might be able to confide in James? Could she trust him?
“Answer the question, Miss Evans,” Lestrange said harshly.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I told Narcissa that I thought Malfoy was a bad influence on her. And I thought he would be a bad influence on her son.”
“Lucius Malfoy was from a very old, very respected wizarding family,” Lestrange said. “He knew our customs and our rules, he had known them since birth. Did you think you knew better?”
Lily didn’t answer. How could she answer? What could she say that wouldn’t condemn her? What could she say that Lestrange wouldn’t twist into something foul?
But Lestrange didn’t seem perturbed by her lack of response. Instead, he simply pressed on, “You didn’t want him to influence his son, did you? And now he’s dead.”
“Objection!”
“Overruled.”
“So I guess he can’t be much of an influence at all.” Lestrange came forward, resting his hands on the edge of the witness box and leaning into Lily’s personal space. “You must have been thrilled.”
Lily closed her eyes and tried to keep her voice steady as she replied, “I never hid my dislike for Malfoy, but I didn’t kill him.”
“You didn’t hide your dislike for Lupin, either,” Lestrange hissed.
“I loved him!” Lily argued, wiping tears from her eyes. “He was my best friend.”
“And yet you never once tried to contact him for the three years he was gone,” Lestrange sneered. “Do you so thoroughly ignore all of your friends after you argue with them? Or were you merely trying to make sure he wouldn’t influence anyone?”
“I didn’t…”
“People you disagree with seem to have a habit of dying, don’t they?”
“No, that’s not…”
“But to stab him with a knife? What were you trying to prove, Miss Evans? Or was this just another attempt to pollute wizarding society with your Muggle notions? Couldn’t even settled for a wizarding duel, could you?”
“I didn’t kill him!”
“Objection!” James shouted, but his cry was lost as Lestrange merely raised his own voice to continue his questions.
“You thought you were better than everyone else. Smarter, more intellectual… and more powerful. If people disagreed with you, then they had to be wrong. Generations of traditions and ideals meant nothing. It was inconceivable that you could be the one misled. Even though you were born to Muggles, even though you knew so little about our society, even though you had never even heard of Hogwarts until you were eleven… you knew better then the rest of us. Is that it?”
Lily didn’t say anything, but inwardly she was agreeing with him. And she knew it made her sound arrogant and conceited, but she did know better. A society filled with so much prejudice was wrong.
“And now Mr. Lupin is dead. And his blood was found on your clothing and your skin, and it looked like he had fought back, but he was dead with a stab wound in his chest. And you were just standing there, staring at what you had done. You didn’t even call the Aurors after you supposedly found his body. Why? Were you gloating? Were you happy?”
“No!”
“At least you stabbed him in the chest and not in the back. How did it feel to stare into his eyes while you took his life?”
“Objection!” James tried again.
“Do you still think you’re better than the rest of us, Miss Evans? Do you still think we should reorganize our society to fit your demands and your ideals? That we should only be friends with the people you think are good enough? That we should exclude everyone you don’t like? And yet even your friends end up dead…”
The tears were burning in Lily’s eyes, and slowly they started to seep out from underneath her tightly closed lids and trickle down her cheeks. She could see Remus’ body, lifeless and bloodied, lying sprawled on the floor. She could smell the metallic scent of his blood and taste her own bitter horror and grief at the scene before. And she could remember exactly what it had felt like to come to his home and find him dead.
Murdered.
“No further questions,” she heard Lestrange say, and she opened her eyes in time to watch him walk back to his desk, looking self-satisfied.
How could she ever beat him?
“I say you just hex him into oblivion,” Sirius growled. “Did he see how smug he was at the end? And Bella sitting in the galleries watching? I thought she was going to start cackling in triumph. Bloody prejudiced gits.”
“You can’t hex him,” Marlene said firmly, leaning back in her chair. They had obtained a small conference room and an hour recess to plan their closing arguments, and she could see that the stress was starting to get to James. Lestrange’s cross-examination had been brutal, and James’ infatuation with Evans’ had made it even harder to watch as the other wizard drove the redhead to tears. Some small part of her was worried that James might completely lose it and actually follow Sirius’ advice.
It wouldn’t really help Evans’ cause if her counsel started attacking people.
“You’re not seeing the bigger picture, McKinnin,” Sirius snapped. “Scum like that shouldn’t be allowed in this society.”
“You aren’t seeing the bigger picture, Black,” Marlene answered. “If James does something that stupid, he’ll lose the case and give Lestrange more reason to claim that blood traitors and Muggleborns are worthless.”
“We poked holes in the evidence. Ringleton’s testimony… that discredited Lestrange. And everything Dumbledore said…” James trailed off for a moment, then sighed. “I don’t know if that is enough, though. Bones is in charge and…”
“He’s a bloody wanker,” Sirius interrupted. “They both are, Bones and Lestrange. Why can’t everyone else see what they’re doing?”
“I think they can,” Marlene replied softly.
The trial had started out relatively well. In the beginning, at least, Bones had been following most of the rules, allowing only lines of questioning that were actually relevant to the trial, sustaining objections for anything against the rules of the court. But that had changed. With Ringleton’s story discredited, with Dumbledore’s testimony…
Bones hadn’t even been pretending to offer a fair trial.
“Did you see the way the Wizengamot looked when Bones allowed Lestrange to ask all those questions?” Marlene murmured. “I think there are a few people who are rather convinced that this trial has been mishandled.”
“And Bones will bully them into silence,” Sirius muttered with a scowl.
“Maybe,” Marlene replied, “but maybe not.”
“The facts of this case are simple,” Lestrange said, rising slowly to his feet and staring at the Wizengamot with a seriousness and a sense of gravity that James had not seen before. “On September 16th, Remus Lupin was found dead in his home, stabbed in the chest with a knife. There had been signs of a struggle, an indication that he had fought back. That he wanted to live.”
James glanced at Lily. Her eyes were on Lestrange, and her face was set into hard lines. But James could see the faint cracks there, and knew that, beneath her firm façade, she was trying very hard not to cry.
He’d become accustomed to watching her, studying her. It was a habit he had with every witch or wizard he represented, because he had long since learned that people couldn’t keep up their masks all of the time, and if he was perceptive enough, he could find the real person underneath.
But Lily was different. He still couldn’t understand her, even after all this time. And she annoyed him with her ceaseless lies and her half-truths and her constant evasions.
But he liked her.
A lot.
“The evidence in this case is straight-forward,” Lestrange continued, and James switched his gaze to the other wizard. “Lily Evans was found standing over Remus Lupin’s dead body. His blood was on her clothes. She says she found him like that, but she did not alert the Aurors. She did not alert anyone. She simply stood there.”
Lily’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on the chair, her knuckles turning white at the strength of her grip. James wanted to reach out offer her support, but there was nothing he could say or do.
The only way he could help her was to win this trial, to prove once and for all that not all purebloods were like the Malfoys or Lestranges and that he would help her get justice for Lupin’s death.
“We know that she argued with the deceased frequently during the year leading up to his departure, and that she did not speak to him for the three years that he was gone. She did not attempt to write to him, she did not attempt to contact him by the Floo Network, she did not even attempt to find out if he was still alive. And yet it seems as though she believed that the mission he had taken from Albus Dumbledore was dangerous,” he glanced at Lily, “so why wouldn’t she have wanted to make sure he was still unharmed? Three years is a long time to ignore someone she supposedly loved.”
The members of the Wizengamot were all staring at Lily now, with a mixture of disgust and curiosity on their faces. It was as though she was some disturbing specimen, something not-quite-human, that they were studying.
There were a few witches and wizards, though, that were looking at Lily with an entirely different expression; ill-concealed glee. They wanted her to suffer, but did they want her to suffer because they believed that she was guilty or because she was Muggleborn? How many members of the Wizengamot were followers of Voldemort?
How many people in wizarding Britain were followers of this Dark wizard?
James knew his thoughts were sounding paranoid, but he also knew that they were on the brink of something significant, something dangerous and terrifying, something that would irrevocably alter their society. They had already drawn lines in the sand, but how many people were on his side, and how many were on Voldemort’s?
“But Lily Evans’ friendships have a tendency to end in tragedy,” Lestrange was saying. “Just ask Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, who have lost their husband and father. Lily Evans told Mrs. Malfoy that Lucius was a bad person, that he would be a bad father. She has expressed her disdain for our culture and our societal norms, she has repeatedly indicated that she thinks she is better than the rest of us. But is she?”
Yes. The answer was caught in James’ throat, stuck behind his teeth. He knew he couldn’t say it, knew he couldn’t interrupt Lestrange’s closing arguments, but he wanted to. He wanted to answer that question because yes, Lily was better than most of them.
She was certainly better than Lestrange.
“Her parents were both Muggles. She had never heard of Hogwarts before receiving her letter of acceptance into the school. She didn’t know anything about us, about our world, about our traditions that have been passed down for centuries.” He gave Lily a contemptuous look, and she stared back defiantly. “She didn’t know anything. And yet she came crashing into our world so sure that she knew best, that everyone who disagreed with her had to be wrong. And those who disagreed and refused to change their opinions… well, they ended up dead.”
Lily turned her head then, looking away from Lestrange, and caught James’ eye. Her own green eyes were filled with tears, but James could see the anger there as well.
And how could he blame her for being furious when her entire worth was being called into question by a man most likely knew that she was innocent of this crime?
He tried to smile, but wasn’t sure he succeeded.
Lily lowered her eyes.
“This is about getting justice for Remus Lupin, for a man who clearly wanted to live, who fought back with all his strength and lost anyway. This is about ensuring that his death does not go unpunished, that the woman who brutally stabbed him in the chest does not get away with her crime. But it is also about far more than that.”
Lestrange paused for a moment, gazing at Lily and then at the witches and wizards in the audience who were all listening with abated breath. “This is about protecting our very society from those who would destroy it. Should we really allow Lily Evans to decide who is good and who is bad, who deserves to live and who should die? Is she better than the rest of us? Does she know more than we do? If you do not convict her for the murder of Remus Lupin, then you are allowing her to ruin everything we hold dear. So do the right thing, and find her guilty.”
Lestrange walked back to his chair and sat down.
James rose slowly to his feet, and felt Marlene’s hand on his arm. He looked down at her, and she offered a tentative smile and whispered, “Breathe.”
James nodded once, then faced the Wizengamot.
“Mr. Lestrange is correct,” he said, “the facts of this case are simple. Yes, Lily Evans was found in Remus Lupin’s home, standing over his dead body. Yes, Lily Evans argued with Remus Lupin on multiple occasions. And yes, Lily Evans was once accused of killing Lucius Malfoy. But let’s take a look at those facts more carefully.”
He walked forward, scanning those sitting on the raised dais. Most expressions were either scornful or carefully neutral. Bones looked positively thrilled.
“Lily Evans was found in Remus Lupin’s home. She went to visit him because he had asked her to. Because he had been afraid, he had been convinced that he was being followed. Something had happened on his mission “ which, according to even Headmaster Dumbledore, was a dangerous mission “ and he needed help. He went to Miss Evans for that help. But she was too late.”
He heard Lily’s sharp intake of breath. He didn’t want to hurt her, but this was the truth. She had been too late to help him.
“She found him dead in his home. Frank Longbottom testified that when they arrested her, she was in shock. She was practically incoherent. Now, the murder weapon was not found anywhere in the home, and Mr. Lestrange would have you believe that Miss Evans had the presence of mind to remove the murder weapon, but not to leave the scene of the crime. But doesn’t it make more sense that she did not have the presence of mind to do anything? She had just found that one of her closest friends, a man she had even dated, had been murdered. She was horrified and grieving.”
“And then there is the issue of their arguments. Miss Evans has agreed that those arguments existed, and Auror Longbottom has confirmed this. However, both have testified that the basis for these arguments was that Miss Evans was worried that Mr. Lupin would get hurt on his missions. She was trying to protect him. After all, Alice Longbottom had already been killed by a Dark curse, so she had every reason to be afraid of losing more friends. So these arguments could hardly be a basis for killing Mr. Lupin.”
“And last, there is, as many of you are no doubt aware, the question of Lucius Malfoy’s death. Yes, Miss Evans was accused of his murder. But she was not convicted. Yet Mr. Lestrange has insisted on bringing up this past case several times and has treated it as though Miss Evans was convicted. One of the underlying beliefs of our legal system is that, if someone is found innocent of a certain crime, they should be treated as though they are innocent. Mr. Lestrange has not done that. In fact, he has gone out of his way to ignore that particular fundamental belief, and yet he accuses Miss Evans of challenging the customs of our society?”
“How has this trial been run? Have we followed all of the rules of our legal system? Have we allowed only relevant questions? Have we stopped counsel for badgering the witnesses? Have we prevented the asking of leading questions?”
“Mr. Potter!” Bones interrupted, his face flushed with fury, “Are you accusing…”
“And isn’t one of our customs that the counsel for the defense be allowed to finish the closing statements without interference?” James cut in quickly, and had to struggle very hard to keep the smirk off of his features as Bones gaped at him, unable to think of a reply.
Several members of the Wizengamot shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
“Is it Miss Evans, then, who is challenging our social mores?” James continued. “Robert Ringleton admitted to lying on the stand, to committing perjury, and I am sure we all read the multiple articles that stated why he felt a need to do that. Sethos Avery could not provide a good reason for why he was supposedly outside of Lily Evans’ home the day that Mr. Lupin had visited her, and neither could he give any description at all of what her home looked like. And Narcissa Malfoy herself implied that Mr. Lestrange had a prior grudge against Miss Evans. So ask yourselves, has this been a fair trial? And has it upheld all of the customs Mr. Lestrange is determined that we should protect?”
“How dare you!” Lestrange hissed. “I am not the one on trial.”
James didn’t answer. Instead, he pressed onwards, “Think about the evidence. There is not enough to convict Miss Evans of murdering Remus Lupin. That much is obvious. And this trial is not about Miss Evans’ heritage and family, and it is not about past grievances. The prosecution has tried to confuse you with tricks and lies. But you do not have to listen. You do not have to do what Mr. Lestrange has asked. You do not have to follow the examples of others. You are members of the Wizengamot. This is your decision, and it should be based on what you believe from the evidence, not what… others” and here he glanced quickly at Bones, “are telling you to believe. I have presented the evidence as best I can, and all we can do is await your decision.”
And he turned and walked back to the desk, his heart hammering wildly in his chest.