Chapter Text
“Alexandra Potter,” he began, his voice like a thunderclap in the cavernous chamber, “you stand trial for aiding the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort, in his efforts to destroy our world. Do you plead guilty or not guilty?”
“Not guilty.”
The words felt hollow as they left her mouth, reverberating through the room with a weight that pressed against her chest. The silence that followed was suffocating, thick with disbelief and judgment. She could feel every eye in the room on her, their gazes like hot needles poking into her skin, their thoughts screaming at her. Some were shocked, others skeptical, and a few—those who had never forgiven her for her bloodline—were outright hostile.
The Chief Warlock’s sharp, icy gaze never wavered from her, as though daring her to break under the weight of it all. “Very well, Miss Potter. You will be given the opportunity to present your defense. But know this, this trial is not just a formality. The charges against you are dire.”
He unfolded a long piece of parchment, his fingers brushing over it as though it were the most casual of things. The list of accusations was anything but casual.
“You stand accused of aiding Lord Voldemort in his rise to power, conspiring to commit murder, using dark magic, obstructing justice, deceiving the wizarding world, endangering Harry Potter, and collaborating with known Death Eaters, among other grievous charges.”
The words were like curses in the air, swirling around her head and echoing in her bones. The murmurs in the room grew louder, buzzing with judgment. Alex’s breath caught, her heart stammering in her chest. She had expected this, she had prepared for it, but hearing it all laid out like that... it still felt like a punch to the gut.
The Chief Warlock adjusted his glasses, his eyes narrowing at her as if he could see through her very soul. “We shall begin with the memories you have offered to present as evidence,” he said coldly. “You may proceed.”
Her mouth went dry as the Pensieve was placed before her. Its silver mist swirled, inviting her in like a trap she had no choice but to walk into. She had chosen these memories carefully, ones that told the story she could not escape, no matter how far she ran.
The weight of everyone’s gaze crushed her from all sides, each pair of eyes a silent accusation. She felt small, too small for this room, too small for the pain that was about to flood her again.
What if I ran, she thought for a split second, to hide from the shame that pressed against her skin, the shame that had followed her all her life. But she knew that was a stupid thought. She had no choice but to face it after all.
Her fingers trembled as they hovered over the mist, and for a moment, she thought she might collapse from the pressure. Get it over with, she urged herself, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, loud enough to drown out everything else. With a sharp intake of breath, she dipped her fingers into the pensieve.
The world around her blurred, then shifted. The trial chamber faded, replaced by a different time, a different place.
A different her.