A/N: Okay brief set after the battle of Hogwarts Voldemort died. That's the only thing that's stayed the same some people are alive that died originally. So AU after the battle of Hogwarts. That's all you get for now.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and no money has been made from this.
I understand some details in this will be wrong (aka the court hearing, but I really don't have much to go on and besides it's AU so technically it's all wrong ;) just thought I throw that in there.)
This is a Prologue for an upcoming story.
A swirling murmur erupts. The starting of a whisper grows like wild fire it engulfs the room. Ears burn. Tongues duel, spitting words of venom like a double-sided sword. An uproar of voices shouting to be heard. Judging eyes peer knowingly down to the darkly cloud figure sitting on the chair in the centre of the room.
Council of Magical Law nothing more than a room of angry patriots.
The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebot sits patiently listening to the cries of the crowd. The wrong word could cause a mob. The members of the council do a grand job of trying to organise the mounting chaos. The jury discuss amongst themselves the approaching verdict. There is only one way this case can go. The hate towards the dark witch is immense. He can feel it like a taunt tension in the air waiting to snap.
It was unusual for the Minister of Magic to sit in a trial but with one as big as this, he could not afford to miss it. His eyes unwillingly revert to the figure lounging carelessly in the chair. Watching the chaos with an amused smile. Of course, the people were angry, they had spent two years trying to track this witch down. Countless searches, sightings and deaths. Ever since Voldemort's defeat, the wizarding community had slowly rebuilt itself only to be torn apart once more.
Two years on the hunt for Death Eater's to narrow it down to a final remaining few. You know who's, most loyal death eater within their grasp when everything fell apart. Rubbing his temple, he pushes the thought of the war from four years ago out of his mind. Time to return to the present.
Leaning back in his chair, he regards the witch. A sadistic smile plays on her lips as her dark eyes willingly taunt him. Daring him to pass his verdict. Play my game – I dare you. Chains hang loosely a contrast to the biting red mark that surround her wrists from where the metal cuffs dig into her flesh. She cocks her head to the side, her eyes cold and calculating. The Weasley family the loudest of all, words spew from them aimed solely on the witch and any who defend her.
Harry Potter, the boy who lived twice sits a part from the Weasley family. He watches from a far, not partaking in the crowd. His face an unreadable mask as he gazes upon the figure. Shaklebot raises his hand quieting the crowd and his own jury. A hushed murmur follows before the room falls silent. All eyes fall upon the only two important people in the room. The accused and the accuser. Swallowing, Kingsley directs his words to the witch.
"You stand accused," He begins starting slow his voice lacking the conviction it should hold. "Of harbouring criminals. Theft, breaking and entering, illegal use of Dark magic. Performing magic in front of muggles the list is endless." He places the ever-growing list on the stand in front of him. His gaze lingering briefly on the crimes presented before him.
He clears his throat hoping to dislodge the emotions building. "However the most heinous of your crimes comes in the form of murder. You stand accused for the murder of Ronald Weasley an auror and war hero. You also appear before the court for the murders of Sally Bracher, Theodor Thongs and the attempted murder of Nymphadora Tonks."
He hopes in reading the names he can spare himself the emotions of threatening to spill forth. He knew all of the names above, but it does nothing to spare him from the biggest crime of all. The crime of such shocking doings he still struggles to understand. The crime that left the wizarding world reeling.
The figure is yet to stir; she sits slouched, fiddling with her nails, a bored expression playing across her face. It was like déjà vu for the elderly wizard.
"Do you have anything to add before we continue?" He asks silence ensues.
The witch stares up at him through black eye lashes, realising this is her chance to speak up. She shifts in her seat, running a hand through her messy hair. Sitting up straight, the room waits in anticipation – will she show remorse for her crimes?
"Nope…" she says popping the 'p'. "I'm as guilty as they come."
Stunned is too much of a simple word to describe the silence in the room.
"You confess to the crimes sequentially submitted?" He asks interrupting the void of emptiness.
"Save your repetitive questions minister and get to the verdict, these lovely people have lives you know." She motions the people glaring holes into her.
"Very well," He looks to each one of his jury; there will be no need to vote today. Respecting Harry with one last look, he notices the pale colour as the young man buries his head in his hands.
"Miss Hermione Jean Granger," The words grow thick on his tongue his eyes slide shut briefly he could cannot believe he is doing this. Opening them, he stares into the emotionless brown orbs of the young witch watching him.
"You are hereby sentenced to Azkaban, nevertheless…"
She squints at him obviously not prepared for this part of the sentence.
"Given your involvement in helping to kill Voldemort," The room flinches at the man's name. "And your pass heroics you will not face the Dementor's kiss." A terrifying roar breaks out in the room, the crowd full of disagreement. He continues undeterred from his verdict.
"Instead you will serve the maximum time permitted," He shouts over the noise standing up, as his jury try to stop the jeering. "You will spend the rest of your life confined to the depths of Azkaban for the crimes you have committed. For your willing aid of Bellatrix Black who earlier faced the same sentence as you. You shall face a further sentence. Miss Granger your crimes shall slowly fade into something of the pass the Wizarding world will slowly forget you. You will rot in jail for the rest of your life and will never step outside again."
His gavel hits the wooden stand and he drops it after the third knock as though it burned. He had just sentenced one of the golden trio to Azkaban. Her worst crime – destroying the lives she claimed to love.
A Drop in the Ocean coming soon... maybe...