The Collision Theory | Remus Lupin

66. A Trip To The Ministry

The castle is eerily silent, and the corridors feel cold and lifeless. I throw in a bunch of clothes into my suitcase, putting my photo album and mirror shard between some shirts.

"Stay close," McGonagall orders, though her tone is resigned and soft. I do as she says, sticking close until we reach the school grounds, though I don't understand why she'd want me to stay close to her when we're safe.

"When will we get back?" I inquire, albeit tentatively, as I struggle to keep up with her long strides, making quick pace to Hogsmeade. She told me to pack essentials, which included pyjamas. I didn't even get to say goodbye to anyone, and I have no idea where Miriam is.

"I don't know," she avoids looking at me, "A trial could last hours. Or days."

"Okay." I mutter, looking down at my feet instead as I walk.

"Don't you fret, we'll try and finish this matter as quick as possible."

"Thank you," I nod and manage a small smile, although she seems to be reassuring herself more than me, as the professor wrings her hands in worry. Trying to break the tension, I ask, "Does this man I get off doing homework?"

The shadow of a while crosses her features as she replies, "Not if you want to spend Friday night in detention."

"It was worth a shot."

"Here," We stop in the middle of the Hogsmeade high street, just outside of Madame Malkins. The place looks dreary without the usual crowd of pupils. McGonagall holds up her arm, gesturing me to hold on, "have you ever experienced side-long apparition?"

"Once...I think."

"Alright, it's best if you shut your eyes. Hold on tightly," She placed her free hand on mine, "three...two...one-"

Gravity seems to lurch me forward, and the air of forced out of my lungs as darkness seems to fold over us. I tighten my grip on the professor, urging myself not to throw up. Suddenly, my feet collide against solid mass, and at the impact I find myself sprawled out on polished oak floor. I push myself up quickly, intent not to make a scene, "I'm sorry, professor."

"Not a problem," She hands me my suitcase, and as I turn, I catch the first full glimpse of my surroundings. There are witches and wizards in smart robes rushing to and fro, their indistinct calls and voices echoing up the marble walls of the ministry. I don't have time to take in the scenery, as McGonagall pushes me behind her, promptly bringing me back to reality, "Come any closer and I will make sure all of you are fired!"

I realise that she isn't talking to me. Within seconds, the crowd of Ministry workers have given us a wide berth, and twenty or so uniformed aurors have flooded the scene. Being the reckless Gryffindor, I reach for my wand, but the professor is faster, slapping my arm with her free hand to stop me, "Ow..."

"Madam, Novak is-"

"Do not Madam me, Varys, I taught you for seven years," McGonagall snaps, "we are here on court business."

"Regardless, Professor-" The man seems uncomfortable with pointing a wand at his former professor, but yet another interruption comes, this time in the form of a familiar grizzly bark.

"Wands down!" The thud of a fake foot against the oak floor seems refreshing against the now silent Ministry, "Merlin's balls, Varys, stand back!"

"Yes sir," Varys grumbles, lowering his wand hand. For the first time, I'm actually glad to see the scary auror.

McGonagall nods in greeting, "Moody, we did not expect this kind of welcome."

"Ministry is always on their toes, evidently," Alistair growls, eyeing his aurors with scrutiny. He turns to the bewildered forming crowd, "on you hop! Nothing to see here!"

*

The law is weird.
My rights, I'm told, are linked to the fact that I am innocent until proven guilty, yet I shall remain under the custody of the Ministry until my hearing in the morning.
This doesn't apply for all: if I were to have broken a minor law, I wouldn't be here, if I were a witness I'd be protected in my home. I suppose I'm lucky, there is also the option of conviction without trial.
But that's usually for murderers.
The law is unfair.

"Suitable robes?" I'm pulled out of my thoughts by McGonagall, who stands in front of where I am sitting. I've been assigned to a room with just enough space for a single bed and a wardrobe.

"What kind?"

"A formal dress, preferably ankle-length," she taps my suitcase, and it clicks open. I shake my head quickly, rathering she didn't go through my belongings. The professor sighs, "very well, we'll go with burgundy."

With a click of her wand, she conjures a dress, and I'm left wondering if I've lost my mind, because I'm pretty sure she was the one who taught me the principles of Gamp's Law, "How- what-"

"Everything has a way," a faint smile forms on her lips as she turns to the door, "now, get ready to sleep, the morning will come quicker than you think."

"Thank you, Professor," I manage a meek reply before the door closes, leaving me alone. I take off my clothes in exchange for the dress.

*

The morning really does come quicker than I think.
Not that I get any sleep.
My mind wanders sporadically from though to thought: where's Miriam, these covers are itchy, how screwed am I, the bed is too hard, do mum and dad know where I am?

Before I know it, there's a knock on the door, and I bolt up straight, grabbing my wand, "Who's there?"

"It's time to get ready," McGonagall's voice brings me relief, but then panic washes over once more when I process her words.

"I'll be ready in five minutes," I call back. Heaving myself out of bed, I exchange my nightwear for the dress the professor gave me. It looks like the kind mum wore to work at St Mungo's, with the skirt becoming loose at the waist and the sleeves tight around my arms. As I pull my hair back, I realise with a jolt in my heart, that save for the glasses, I resemble her: the same round jaw, same nose, the same dark olive skin-
I tear my eyes away from the mirror, and grab my cloak and wand, before opening the door.

McGonagall waits patiently outside, and as I walk out, greets me with a smile, "Very smart."

"Thank you, Professor," I follow as she starts with a brisk pace down the corridor. We go down a fight of stairs, and the air seems to get colder. Despite this, I feel very warm, and my hands feel clammy with anxiety and fear.

McGonagall seems to have paled, "Before we go in, I want you to remember two things."

"Yes?"

"Choose your words wisely," her gaze doesn't fall on me, but rather she carries on looking ahead as she walks, "they will ask questions that will be aimed to trick you. Do not fight the veritaserum, but be calm."

"I understand," I exhale shakily, painfully aware of what's on my shoulders, "and two?"

"Two," the professor sighs as we come to a halt in front of a set of black iron doors, "I care for all under my charge, and you are no exception. I understand that your mother has a separate place in your heart, but I am here, like I am for all of my Gryffindors, to support you."

My breath hitches at my throat, and for a moment I struggle back the desire to throw my arms around the woman, "I- thank you."

She squeezed my hand, before walking forward to knock on the door. I opens with a loud groan, revealing a circular courtroom with a chair in the centre.

Let the show begin.