The Marauders: Year Four

The Trial of Orion Black

The Trial of Orion Black

In the square across from Number 12, Grimmauld Place, there were a series of cracks as the members of the Resistance apparated. Albus Dumbledore stood at the gate of the park, staring up at the old town houses, at the glowing muggle lamps and flickering of their tellies, lighting up laughing faces. Hard to believe in the unseeable space between Numbers 11 and 13 that there was another house, a house in which unspeakable danger lurked.

Minerva McGonagall walked up beside him on one side, Alastor Moody on the other as others apparated into the park behind them - Charlus and Dora Potter, Gideon and Fabian Prewett, Chriselda Blythe, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Madam Pomfrey, and Rubeus Hagrid were all there in the shadows. Hagrid carried his crossbow, his beady eyes squinting out across the street. "In there, is it?" he grunted.

"Somewhere between the two, yes," murmured Dumbledore. His face was pallid in the moonlight. They could hear a howling - and McGonagall took Dumbledore's arm, her eyes wide.

"Albus," she gasped.

Dumbledore nodded.

"How do we get in?" she asked.

Dumbledore shook his head, "I don't think that we do."

McGonagall's eyes were bleary, tears right on the edge of falling. "But Albus - the children..."

"Are not entirely children any longer," Dumbledore murmured. He drew a deep breath. "There is no way in, Minerva, all that we can do is stand at the ready to be of help should they come out. We have positioned Professors Flitwick and Viridi at the castle at the two open Floo connections, but there is nothing more I can do. The Fidelus Charm on this home is strong, and without having been told where the home is located, there is no way for us to approach it."

Alastor Moody growled and leaned against the gate, his face contorted with frustration. "So damn close... so bloody damn close..." his fingers tightened and loosed against his wand handle.

"Dumbledore! My son!" Charlus said, coming up behind the three clustered about the gate, "What do we do to help my son?"

"I am afraid we are doing everything that we can, Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore apologetically.

Dora was crying, silently, with her jaw set against the cold spring breeze that made the branches dance over their heads.

Every one of the members of the Resistance waited, staring at the narrow alley between Numbers 11 and 13... waiting for a miracle.

Sirius was frozen staring up into his father's eyes, the expression in them eyes the only thing that could change about any of the people in the room. He could hear Voldemort's shuffling walk. Orion's eyes met with his son's and Sirius saw something flickering there, something... almost apologetic. It confused him. He wanted to ask questions, but he couldn't move his mouth to do so... and so he just stared back.

The Dark Lord moved from the fireplace hearth, stepping between the statue-like figures that filled the kitchen. He put a hand gently on Druella's head, petting her wild grey hair... and then slid his fingers from her to the shoulder of Regulus Black... Severus Snape... Barty Crouch Jr... He stepped around the huddle of Ali Prewitt, Frank Longbottom, and Andy Woodhouse, purposefully treading upon Frank's fingers, which crunched sickeningly beneath his weight. James Potter was frozen in the doorway of the kitchens, bent, caught in the middle of ducking from a spell Orion Black had been aiming for his head, the green sparks had exploded the wall behind him, knocked over a great trolls foot umbrella stand. The Dark Lord stepped around him to Sirius, who stood in the hall just behind James, staring over his shoulder at Orion Black.