Chapter 586: The Trial
Chapter 586: The Trial
On the first morning of the Easter break, Felix put on a deep purple robe and stared at himself in the mirror for a long time. The color clearly wasn't suitable for him, and the way Walen chattered and gloated made it even more obvious.
He discreetly adjusted some details, making the color deeper, and finally smoothed out the fabric on the left chest where the silver letter "W" was embroidered. It was now just barely acceptable.
There was no choice; this robe was issued to him when he became a member of the Wizengamot, specifically for formal trials.
Felix left the house and headed to the Headmaster's Office. Knocking on the door, he was surprised to see Dumbledore behind the desk—his face was pale, and he looked weak and exhausted, with more wrinkles than before.
"Albus, you gave me quite a shock", Felix said, instantly thinking of many things.
He recalled that this change had been gradual, not noticeable at first, but after not seeing Dumbledore for a week, the difference was stark.
"Deceiving Voldemort isn't an easy task", Dumbledore said with a weak smile.
"Alright", Felix had to admit that Dumbledore had a point, "I just fear we might scare ourselves first..."
The two of them used the fireplace in the Headmaster's Office to arrive at the Ministry of Magic.
Felix looked around the opulent main hall of the Ministry of Magic. There were no visible traces of the battle from February, but some details had changed: the statue of the Fountain of Magical Brethren in the center of the atrium had been slightly repositioned, likely rebuilt during renovations to replace parts that couldn't be magically restored.
They approached the golden doors at the end of the atrium and encountered Mad-Eye Moody and Professor Marchbanks, who were waiting for the elevator.
"Looking forward to this day!" Professor Marchbanks turned to Moody, raising her voice, "It's necessary to boost morale. I've noticed some people are feeling pessimistic lately. I don't know what they're thinking; things are much better than last time."
Moody dug in his ear and gruffly replied, "You're right."
Felix silently slowed down, letting Dumbledore lead the way. "Dumbledore?" Professor Marchbanks's attention shifted from Moody to Dumbledore, scrutinizing his face. "You look terrible! No wonder, with the Dark Lord causing trouble. As the President of the International Confederation of Wizards, you must be very stressed."
Dumbledore smiled in agreement.
They took the elevator to the ninth floor and walked down a dimly lit corridor. Felix glanced at the black door of the Department of Mysteries at the end but said nothing. The group then turned left into a gap and descended a staircase to reach the tenth floor.
Voices could be heard near the stairs—
"There's no need to adjust the order", Madam Bones said, sounding somewhat displeased. "Since they want to observe, let them stay a few more days." She heard footsteps and looked up, smiling as she saw the group approach.
Kingsley Shacklebolt nodded to them and left in the opposite direction. The torches mounted on the stone walls cast long, flickering shadows as he disappeared behind a heavy wooden door.
Madam Bones greeted Dumbledore with concern and then led them to their destination.
"Talking about the Ministries of Magic in other countries?" Felix asked.
"Yes", Madam Bones sniffed, lowering her voice. "They're putting pressure on us, so I have to show some form of cooperation. But like the observers from the International Confederation of Wizards, they only have the right to observe, not to speak or vote."
"We're here."
She stopped at a sinister black door, turned the iron handle, and the muffled voices from inside the dark room became audible.
There were about thirty people inside. Felix squinted and recognized a familiar face. He walked over. "Damocles?" Potions Master Damocles Belby looked up, first in surprise, then with a look of realization.
"Of course, you're also a member of the Wizengamot, but you missed the previous meetings."
Felix chatted with him for a bit. A few Wizards sitting on the long benches came over to greet him, but the setting wasn't suitable for socializing. Felix sat next to Belby and watched the lone chair in the center, bound with chains, with interest.
Felix looked around and noticed that the seating arrangement was deliberate.
The walls of the courtroom were made of black light-absorbing stone, and the room was dimly lit, creating a somber and eerie atmosphere. The overall layout resembled a sunken pit. The benches were arranged in tiers, and on three sides, people were scattered, all wearing deep purple robes. These were the members of the Wizengamot.
A few reporters with Quills and Parchments were interspersed among them, appearing cautious and subdued, even speaking in hushed tones. Felix spotted Rita Skeeter.
He recognized acquaintances on three sides of the benches, but the fourth side—behind the chained black chair—was occupied by a distinct group of strangers. They were formally dressed, but their badges and embroidered names clearly indicated they belonged to different organizations. Felix knew these must be the "observers" from the various Ministries of Magic.
Another ten minutes passed, and more people continued to enter.
"Knock, knock, knock."
The sound of a cane tapping against the floor echoed through the room. Felix looked up and saw a man with thick, bushy hair striding in, his cane repeatedly tapping the ground. It was Rufus Scrimgeour.
He walked over to Madam Bones and whispered something to her. She nodded slightly in response.
They each found a seat. "We can begin", Scrimgeour's deep voice resonated through the courtroom. After Madam Bones became the Minister of Magic, he took over her position and is now the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
As per tradition, he was responsible for presiding over this trial.
His words were like a signal. As soon as he finished speaking, a door in the corner opened, and three people walked in. Two tall, muscular guards escorted a short man into the courtroom, holding him up as if he were a small chick, his feet barely touching the ground.
The guards pushed the short man into a chair at the center of the room and stood on either side. The chains on the floor rose like snakes, and the man shuddered in fear.
"Not yet", Scrimgeour said, and the chains obediently lay flat on the ground. He began to read from a document in a low, emotionless voice: "Bart Hughes, a Norwegian wizard, has been accused of smuggling prohibited items in his home country and is associated with two Muggle attacks. In February of this year, you participated in an assault on the British Ministry of Magic and were apprehended on the spot. The evidence is clear, and your actions were egregious—do you intend to contest these charges before the verdict is announced?"
The short man seemed to be in a state of shock, remaining motionless in the chair. Felix could understand his fear. Most people in the room were hidden in the shadows, and the flickering torches occasionally revealed a static image: pairs of eyes staring intently at his face before disappearing again.
The air was occasionally filled with the rustling sound of flipping through documents, which added to the psychological pressure.
A few seconds passed—
"If there are no objections—"
"Wait, wait!" the short man suddenly exclaimed, trying to stand up from the chair. The guards pushed him back down, and the chains on the ground burst into a golden light. The man shrank back, curling up and leaning away. He raised a sinister face, trying to open his eyes wide to catch Scrimgeour's position reflected on the wall by the firelight.
He panted, "I object, I do! I, I was under the Imperius Curse—"
Behind him, the observers from various countries began to murmur.
"Nonsense!" Scrimgeour shouted, his lion-like brown hair bristling. "The Ministry of Magic has anti-theft waterfalls set up in the fireplaces and on each floor, which would wash away the effects of any spell. If you were truly under the Imperius Curse, how do you explain being brought down by a direct hit from a Ministry of Magic Auror?"
The short man opened his mouth but couldn't form any words.
Scrimgeour looked around the room, "The facts are clear. Members of the jury, those who find him guilty, please raise your hands—"
People on the benches raised their arms, their silhouettes clearly visible in the dim, flickering light. The short man slumped helplessly in the chair.
"The charges are upheld. Bart Hughes, you are sentenced to ten years in Azkaban. Upon completion of your sentence, the British Ministry of Magic will transfer you to the Norwegian Ministry of Magic, where you will continue to atone for your crimes in your home country!"
"Bang!" The gavel came down with a heavy thud.
Bart Hughes was led away, looking dazed.
After a brief exchange of whispers, the guards brought in several more Dark Wizards, clearly part of the group that had attacked the Ministry of Magic. They were quickly found guilty, just like Bart Hughes. As the morning approached noon, the main event arrived.
Two men who looked somewhat alike were brought in.
"Rodolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange", Scrimgeour said in a deep, angry voice. "You conspired with Bellatrix Lestrange and Barty Crouch Jr. to kidnap a pair of Auror spouses at the end of the First War, using the Cruciatus Curse to force them to reveal the Dark Lord's whereabouts. Your crimes are heinous, and you were sentenced to life imprisonment. You escaped from Azkaban a year ago and have since rejoined the Dark Lord as his minions and accomplices, suspected of involvement in multiple riots. In February, you were ordered to attack the Future World company in Diagon Alley and were apprehended on the spot, with clear evidence against you."
The two men's faces were pale. The slightly fatter of the two tugged at the corner of his mouth, as if trying to say something, but only a muffled tremor escaped his lips.
Scrimgeour did not ask the jury to raise their hands this time. His yellow eyes held no warmth. "There is no doubt, ladies and gentlemen, that these two will be sentenced to life imprisonment, and their names will decay alongside their bodies in Azkaban."
Another person was brought in.
"Moore Mulciber, Selwyn, Goylle, Nott, your charges are the same as the Lestrange brothers: prison break, murder, and unrest. According to the law, you will be sentenced to life—"
"Wait, wait!" a voice suddenly interrupted.
Scrimgeour's gavel hung in the air. "Selwyn? Do you want to defend yourself, or beg for forgiveness? After all those evil deeds?"
"I, I confess, I am guilty!" Selwyn licked his lips and stammered, "But I hope the jury will give me another chance—I know some names—"
The Tall Person beside him suddenly lunged at him. "You scum!" "Guards! Restrain him, restrain Goylle." Scrimgeour roared loudly.
Selwyn shrank back in his chair, his voice shrill. "I am willing to testify!"
"Selwyn!" Goylle struggled and shouted, "You dare to betray the Dark Lord? Do you think this will be the end? We are just locked up for a while, he is still out there! Still out there!"
"Take them away! Take them away!" Scrimgeour bellowed. The guards complied, leaving only Selwyn behind.
"What do you have to say?" Scrimgeour asked coldly.
"I—I—" Selwyn's face was pale, clearly the threat from Goylle had worked. He panted, "You will protect me, right?"
"That depends on the weight of your evidence", Madam Bones said sternly. "We have information far beyond what you can imagine."
Selwyn pressed his lips together. "I understand... I know someone, Umbridge, Dolores Umbridge."
"She was arrested on the same day and is currently receiving treatment. And we already know that you introduced her to the Dark Lord."
Selwyn's eyes widened, and he swayed. "No, no..."
"No?" Scrimgeour said sharply. "We have solid evidence! You approached her as a relative and promised her the position of Minister of Magic!"
"It's impossible!" Selwyn panicked, his gaze darting around. "How could you know?" His eyes showed a sudden realization. "I see, you must have another spy! Who is it?"
People murmured, the journalists and observers present like sharks sensing blood, all looking at Madam Bones and Scrimgeour, but the two showed no emotion. This statement had successfully captured everyone's attention. Had the Ministry of Magic really planted spies in secret? And who could it be?
Finally, Felix thought.
Scrimgeour did not answer him, and the trial continued.
"I know two more!" Selwyn said through gritted teeth. "Avery! Avery is a Death Eater, and his nephew Chester."
"They have already been arrested. If that's all you know—"
"Wait!" Selwyn's eyes were filled with struggle. He knew many others, but he needed to come up with some significant names to make a decisive impact. "Snape! Severus Snape!"
"He is not under discussion. Albus Dumbledore has vouched for him."
"No, you've been deceived, I assure you—"
"Assure? With your credibility?" Scrimgeour's lips curled in derision and mockery.
Selwyn's face showed despair.
In his mind, Snape was undoubtedly a true Death Eater—because despite the significant suspicion surrounding Snape, he had managed to gain the Dark Lord's trust. This almost proved one thing: he was more trustworthy than any other Death Eater.
Only Death Eaters knew how terrifying the Dark Lord truly was. If not for the Dark Lord's repeated displays of ruthlessness towards his followers, Selwyn would never have betrayed him.
He stared at Scrimgeour, seeing him as a complete fool. But there was no way out; he had lost another card.
"Malfoy! Lucius Malfoy! He is also a Death Eater." He shouted desperately.
Scrimgeour's yellow eyes were a mix of disgust and contempt. He laughed coldly. "You have terrible luck. Someone has vouched for him too, this time it's Mr. Felix Heap."
The people in the room turned to look at Felix, who met their gazes calmly.
Selwyn's expression shifted from shock to realization and disbelief. So that was it. He shouted, "He is the spy!?"
It all made sense... The Ministry of Magic was confident in their information, which meant the spy held a high enough position within the Death Eaters. A series of names flashed through his mind, but he never imagined it would be Malfoy.
He wasn't the only one; most of those present were equally surprised.
The invited journalists were excited, their hearts racing. Rita Skeeter's eyes gleamed, her quill dancing in a blur. Big news, absolutely big news! The head of the Malfoy family was first confirmed as a Death Eater, and then there was a twist—he was actually a spy.
And this spy was likely developed by Felix Heap, making the powerful Malfoy a spy in the magical world... Skeeter trembled with excitement at the thought of the inside story.
The Dark Lord would be furious. She thought as she wrote.
(End of Chapter)
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