The Other Potter

Guilty Until Proven Innocent

He was booked and processed quickly, he guessed his mugshot would be tomorrow's front cover if Rita Skeeter didn't choose one of the other photos she had taken whilst he was being taken from school.

His cell was away from the other prisoners, up high in an Eastern Tower where they seemed to keep everyone awaiting their trials. He was alone in his cell, away from the others, technically they weren't allowed to put him closer to the others due to him being considered a minor. Technically he shouldn't be there but he wasn't on trial for a petty crime, it was murder.

The cell was small and dark it reminded him a little bit of a cave, the only light coming from a small window that was barred from the outside, a small worn cot in the corner of the room, and a toilet in another corner. The room was bare other than that.

They kept his cuffs on him, mostly to keep his magic under control. Once he stepped in the cell he heard the loud click of the lock and the fading sound of footsteps and keys jingling. He was finally alone. Finally able to sit and sort through all the memories, worries, and concerns that were spinning around in his mind making his ears ring.

He had to filter through one thing at a time, everything from Sirius and Remus to being a Death Eater to his Prophecy to his friends, and anything else that needed arranging and figuring out in his mind. Things that might not have been a big deal to anyone else, like Quidditch - his career, not school Quidditch, to Nik and Lucas.

Even if his mind hadn't been wired to try to figure everything out, he doubted he would get much sleep. Screams, manic laughter, cries, and loud threats echoed from around the prison. There wasn't a second of silence. All he could do was push himself into the corner of his cell, knees to his chest, trying to ignore the sounds echoing outside, he felt like a child again - he'd been experiencing that a lot lately, perhaps it was the situations he was finding himself in or perhaps his mind found comfort in distant nostalgia. He supposed most people would find it odd that in times like these he related to his childhood, however, elements mirrored things he had felt in all the worst ways.

Right now, in this cell, it reminded him of the day he'd been kicked out of muggle school; there was no cell just his bedroom, and it wasn't the haunting noise of prison but the sounds of his parents arguing for hours and hours, and he was innocent now but he was guilty then of hexing a boy, but he'd been alone with his thoughts racing and trying to calm himself. He'd done something bad and knew there was no coming back from it, just like right now. There was no coming back.

He'd been seven, things had already been different between him and his parents from the summer. But this was right before Christmas break. James hardly spoke to him, but Lily was still trying. She always tried back then, she'd been a saving grace until he went to Hogwarts. Days alone with her were his favourite, which worked out well when James took Harry out flying. He'd help her bake, or watch her making potions for work. He used to want to be a healer just like her. He used to be just like her... But the first change happened the day he got kicked out of school for accidently hexing a boy who was bullying Harry. Poor boy didn't stop vomitting slugs for hours, but that was what he got for trying to push Harry's head into mud and make him eat a slug. Dumbledore was once again called for a home visit, and this was when his tutoring started. Lily taught him about potions, and went into more depth about healing spells.

From the ages of six to twelve, Lily had been someone he looked up to and loved. But he could tell as the years went on she had started pulling back and by the time he returned for summer after his first year everything had changed. He got tired of trying to hold on to their relationship, despite his attempts to rekindle things. By the end of the summer he had given up, hiding himself away in his room until asked to join them. It didn't happen often, but even when it did he'd stay quiet. The house was no longer a home to him.