The Trial of Potter

Chapter 5

It was a new day, a new morning, and the trial had reconvened. The Potters were sitting in their usual spots, eyes tired and slightly leaning back in their chairs. Nobody had slept well the night before, Daphne's memories rolling around in their heads. Somehow, Lily suspected they had only touched on the tip of the iceberg. Feelings of dread filled her stomach. She didn't know what her son had done in the service of Lord Voldemort, double agent or not, and she wasn't sure she wanted to hear it.

James had similar thoughts to hers, though his were wandering over to what Harry had learned under Moody. Auror training was extensive, but even Auror training sounded easy compared to what Moody had taught his son. He wanted to know what Moody had taught Harry, when the training had gone on, etc. Most of all, he wanted to know why someone so skilled in dueling would not be sent out in fights. Too much didn't fit.

Penelope Clearwater-Weasley, on the other hand, was thinking of her plan of attack. All of Harry's memories had been checked and verified by court officials, meaning that they were completely genuine. Penelope trusted the memories, but she still didn't trust Potter and didn't have to. Her job was to prosecute him, though more and more doubt was appearing to whether or not there was a crime that had been committed.

Harry was brought into the courtroom, looking better than he had the other day. He was wearing nice robes over black dress paints and a white long-sleeved shirt. His hair, previously matted and dirty, had been washed and trimmed, and it was clear a night away from the dementors had done him a world of good. Daphne Greengrass appeared, looking as meticulous as ever in a fitted black dress and stripped blazer and strappy high heels. Everyone took their seats, and the trial opened, the prosecution taking the lead.

Penelope strode up to Harry, her game face on. "You trained under Alastor Moody?"

"Yes," Harry replied.

"And what exactly did that training entail?" she prodded.

Harry hesitated, not being able to describe it. "I could show you," he offered. Penelope nodded her agreement, and the memory was extracted from Harry and placed in the Pensieve .

"December 15, 1992," a court official announced for the court record. Everyone watched as the memory started. Moody and Harry were dueling in a room Evan and Mark recognized as the Room of Requirement. Instead of the usual classroom setting they were used to, it was set up like a battlefield, obstacles and darkness skewing the room.

Moody was firing curse after curse at Harry, who blocked them and dodged and fired back, impressing many in the room. Frankly, Harry looked like crap. Sweat was dripping down his face, cuts on his arms and face, and he was limping slightly. Daphne pursed her lips as she watched , having never seen Harry's training before. She knew why now. Harry slowed down as the limp got more prominent, allowing Moody to catch him with a stunner. He fell harshly to the ground, completely out of breath.

"Get up, Potter," Moody said gruffly. Harry, clearly in pain, didn't move. "Get up!"

Harry spit out blood, panting heavily. "We've been at it for five hours," he said. "I can't."

Moody narrowed his eyes at Harry. "You can't?" he bellowed. "You can't? Let me ask you something, Potter. Do you think Death Eaters will stop when you do! No! Get up!" He stared at Harry. "Unless you've given up. In that case, I'll just leave."

At that statement, Harry slowly got up. It was clear he was tired, hurt, and ready to stop, but he wouldn't. Having his wand at the ready, he said, "I'm not giving up."

Moody nodded his approval, and those who knew him well could detect that faint hint of a smile in his features. "Good. There's a lesson for you, Potter. Never ever give up. You fight until you're dead." He cast a wordless spell at Harry's ankle, causing the boy to stand easier. "Wouldn't want Pomfrey askin' too many questions, would we?"

Harry grinned, casting the first spell. The memory faded out. Penelope looked back at Harry, her eyes wide. If Moody and Dumbledore were still alive, she would charge them both with child endangerment. "That was intense," the prosecutor stated.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "It was."

"Was it necessary?" Harry nodded. "Why?" The courtroom was split in half. Some still saw Harry as a dangerous Death Eater, a criminal, but others were starting to come around. They saw a boy who had accepted a seemingly impossible task, who had been trained harder than most Aurors, who was somehow still alive. Whether or not Harry Potter really was a good guy they couldn't say. They could say, however, that he had earned their respect.

The Potters had a completely different reaction. Lily had tears rolling down her face, unable to believe what her son had been put through. He had only been fifteen, and yet Alastor was treating him like a fully-fledged Auror. James, on the other hand, was furious. How dare Alastor treat his son like that! How dare he go behind his back like this! James had always had great respect for the old Auror hero. He'd trained under Moody. Now, however, he didn't think he'd ever be able to think of his old mentor in a positive light ever again. Evan and Mark were both in awe, unable to believe their brother's skill. Until that last curse got in, Harry had been holding his own with Moody. Evan, as the older sibling, had a revolutionary thought. Harry had done this, all of this, for them, to keep them safe. He had a sudden rush of love for his older brother.

Harry took his time answering that question. "Moody taught me a lot of things: how to fight, how to lie, how to detect people are lying. He taught me suspicion and evil and a lot of things that guarantee I'll never be a fully functioning member of society. That was probably the most important lesson he taught me."

Penelope studied his face. "Explain," she requested.

Harry sighed. "Dumbledore and Moody, they knew they were sending me into a dangerous place, a place where I'd be cut off from my family and friends. A place where it would be easy to give up. That's what Moody was teaching me that day: how to keep going, keep fighting, even though I was tired and hurt and ready for it to be over. It would've been all too easy to give up." He glanced at Daphne a moment before admitting, "That lesson is the reason I am alive today."

Penelope accepted the explanation, moving onto the next question. "And what was Severus Snape's role in all of this?"

"In the beginning, he was mostly gathering information and helping Dumbledore formulate plans in the event Voldemort rose," Harry replied.

"And when he did?"

"Snape was to be my ticket into the Death Eaters," Harry continued. "He would take me to Voldemort and vouch for my loyalty. We had a whole story planned out: how I resented my golden Gryffindor family, how I wanted to spite my blood traitor father, etc. It was dramatic enough that Voldemort would go for it."

"Did Severus Snape teach you anything personally?"

"Yes," Harry answered. Penelope merely raised an eyebrow, wanting elaboration. "Occlumency." Evan winced, remembering his own lessons with Snape. They hadn't gone well, Snape mocking him most of the time. He could only imagine how it had gone for his brother, who bore more of a semblance to their father than Evan did.

"And was it difficult?"

Harry gave her a look. "Are you well-versed in the art, ma'am?"

For once, Penelope looked embarrassed. "No, I am not," she admitted quietly. She had read about it before at Hogwarts, but she only knew the bare minimum about the Mind arts.

"You can't learn about it through books or with a spell," Harry explained. "You just try to clear your mind while someone tries to invade it. It's hard. Some might even say torturous." Evan heard what Harry didn't say, 'And it's worse when the man teaching you hates your house, your last name, and your guts.'

"But not you?" Penelope prompted.

Harry shook his head, his eyes darkening. "I will never use that word lightly. Not anymore." In that moment, Harry looked like he was a hundred years old. It only left the crowd and especially his family even more curious. Penelope, finished with her questions, sat back down. Daphne got up and walked towards Harry, her eyes sharp. She knew Harry wasn't going to like what she was going to say, but she needed to ask for the jury and for her own sake.

"Tell me about Aimee Yaxley."