HP: The Last Trial Ch.11 (Patreon)
Content
Chapter 11
ALBUS DUMBLEDORE (Flash Back-Year 1993)
“Enter,” Albus spoke and watched as the door to his office was opened, and a rather familiar face walked into his office. And despite it being years, he found himself flinching slightly as he saw that familiar face.
For all his faults, Corvus Lestrange's uncanny resemblance to Voldemort had always uneased him, and yet on this day, as the boy entered his office, the boy’s behavior put Albus on edge. It was as if he was watching a young Tom walk into his office, yet despite his unease, he smiled and looked towards the boy as he asked.
“I have been expecting you, Mr. Lestrange. Come have a seat,” he said, and the boy nodded as he reached for the seal opposite to him and sat down, and then since he had first entered his office, Albus found himself looking straight into the boy’s eyes and stilled at their eerie similarity to those of another bright student who had once sat in that very same seat.
Yet apart from their uncanny similarity, he found himself surprised by the mental defenses of the boy. He didn’t miss the use of Occlumency and was surprised by his sheer proficiency in the mind arts.
“Now, tell me what brings you to my office, Mr. Lestrange?” Albus questioned. The boy had written a letter to him a couple of days ago asking for a meeting, something which rarely happened.
“I have come here to propose a deal, Professor,” the boy spoke coldly, his voice even as he stared into his eyes, his words making him frown.
“A deal?” he questioned with a frown, and the boy nodded.
“Yes, indeed, a deal. One that will help rectify one of your biggest mistakes,” the boy answered, making him frown as he realized just exactly what the boy was referring to.
“The Dark Lord. I will help you bring down the Dark Lord. After all, you knew what he would grow up to become, you always knew, and yet you did nothing as you watched him rip the very society apart, exploiting young wizards and witches, recruiting students from this very school right under your very eyes. Yet, you chose to be but a simple bystander, watching as students from these very Halls ended up in his crutches,” the boy said in a heated way, and those words cut through him, highlighting his greatest shame.
“I believe you are misguided, Mr. Lestrange….” But he was cut short as the boy cut in.
“It was this office, right,” said the boy as he looked around at his office, with him stilling at those words.
“This very office in which you denied him the job he most coveted, knowing what he was becoming or what he would go on to become.” The boy cut in sharply.
“Friends, he called them, the group of people waiting for him at the Hog’s head. Death Eaters, you countered, sitting in that very chair, knowing in your heart what they would go on to become,” he countered, and Albus sighed as he spoke sharply.
“I believe that is enough!” and saw the boy flinch as his magic rippled through his office, yet he pulled it back immediately as he took a deep breath.
“This matter does not concern you, Mr. Lesrange. You should focus more on your studie…” yet the boy cut in.
“Peter Pettigrew escaped today, didn’t he?” the boy cut in, and Dumbledore was surprised how the boy knew of this.
“And before he did, Sybil Trelwany made a prophecy today, in a way similar to how she made one to you about The Dark Lord and the so-called chosen one,” he continued, and Dumbledore hadn’t known that.
“How do you know that? And what did she say?” he asked, dread pooling in his heart as he had an inkling about what she would have said.
“It will happen tonight. The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight... the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was. Tonight, before midnight, the servant will set out to rejoin his master."
The boy repeated mechanically, and the whole room stilled at those words as Dumbledore found himself stilled by those words.
“You and I both know what that means. The Dark Lord will rise again, more powerful than ever, and he will cause devastation once more, and you shall be helpless to do anything once more,” the boy added as Dumbledore took his time processing what he had just heard.
“And I can assure you if you don’t make a deal with me, giving me what I want. I shall have to make a very difficult choice,” the boy cut in, and Dumbledore’s head snapped towards the boy at those words.
He couldn’t mean. Could he?
“Yes, then I believe I will have no other choice than to make a deal with the Dark Lord himself. Perhaps he would be more amicable to my demands after I tell him of your spy in his ranks,” and the temperature of the whole room dropped at that as Dumbledore stared at the boy with a narrowed gaze, his hand inching to the elder wand.
“You would make a deal with the Dark Lord?” and the boy shrugged.
“I will do anything to get what I want, professor. Anything,” the boy answered, and Albus gripped his wand as he questioned with a frown.
“And what exactly do you want?” he questioned, intrigued by what would push the by to go to such an extent. Silence enveloped the room before the boy finally answered his question, and Dumbledore found himself both surprised and hurt by the words that would come out of the boy’s mouth as his grip on his wand loosened.
“Phoenix blood! I am in need of phoenix blood.”
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DAPHNE GREENGRASS (Present-Year 1998)
The Greengrass heiress found herself staring at Crovus as they sat in his cell to discuss the day’s proceedings. The case was entering a very dangerous part, and they had to establish a clear purpose behind his actions to have him acquitted of his charges.
Yet, the public support was turning. The people were beginning to realize that there was much more to his case than they had earlier realized. Yet this was also a double-edged sword. The remnants of Voldemort’s followers who had escaped capture to this day now had a clear target for revenge, one they now hated more than even the boy who lived.
And while Harry Potter enjoyed the Ministry’s protections, no such thing was afforded to Crovus, who even had no wand to defend himself. She had written to the Ministry to increase the security for him, yet she had yet to receive any response.
“You never told me how you managed to convince Dumbledore to accept your offer?” she questioned him as Crovus stopped folding the paper he had borrowed from her.
“I threatened him,” he answered, and she was surprised by that answer as he looked up at her.
“You threatened him?” she confirmed once again. And he nodded as a small smile appeared on his lips.
“I had no other choice. Though he didn’t know it at the time, the Dark Lord had long been suspicious of Professor Snape and was simply waiting for any mistake from the man to deal with him. The Dark Lord didn’t simply wish to make a move, for he found him useful, given his mastery in Potion making, yet he never truly trusted him,” and yet she still hadn’t recovered from the initial shock.
“You threatened the Headmaster as a student!” she nearly shrieked, and he nodded a bit abashed.
“Yes, though I did have to rely a lot on his memories. I prepared for weeks, and weeks, before I wrote to him, for there was no other choice,” he answered in a broken tone as he looked up into her eyes.
“There wasn’t much time, and I needed that blood. So, I did what I had to do,” he answered, and she shook her head.
“The Headmaster didn’t make any mention of it to me in his letter,” she spoke up, and Crovus shrugged.
“I have always had a suspicion that the Headmaster knew what he was doing. After all, for all my preparations, I was a simple student at the time. I believe he accepted my offer not because of my threat but because he knew why I was doing what I was doing,” he answered, and she frowned as she shook her head.
“What do you mean?” she asked him to elaborate as Crovus narrowed his eyes before he began to explain.
“There is no doubt in my mind that the Headmaster was somewhat responsible for what became of Tom Riddle. His inaction led to the deaths of thousands, and that weighed heavily on his mind, and as he saw a chance to rectify his mistake, he took it,” he answered.
“Once I asked him why he agreed to my offer that day, he had a very peculiar answer for me,” he began, and she listened attentively to his words.
“He told me when I first walked into his office, he felt as if he was staring at a young Tom Riddle, and that uneased him. Yet when I walked out, he said his heart was at much more ease despite what he had just heard for he knew that no matter what I would never walk the same path as Riddle,” and she nodded as he understood what the Headmaster meant by those words.
For all their similarities, there was one major thing that differentiated Crovus from the Dark Lord. And it was her sister. For all his faults, Crovus had cared deeply for her sister, and she knew that she may not be the sole reason for his actions. The tragedy of his mother, Bellatrix Lestrange, may have fueled his actions as well, yet it was extremely clear that the main cause for what he had done was her sister.
And as she saw his thin frame, and pale face, and those dull eyes, she knew that she couldn’t even fathom what he had endured to do what he had done. And so, she made a promise to herself once more that she would get him out of there. No matter what! She will not let the world rip him apart any longer.
She felt her vision blur as tears welled up in her eyes. She quickly wiped them away as she made to stand up.
“Alright, I need to go, though I don’t think it will come up again, but keep how you convinced Professor Dumbledore about this whole thing to yourself,” she said with a smile. He nodded as he closed his hands around the piece of paper in his hands and closed his eyes as he remembered something rather important.
“Is there anyone else who knew about your role as a traitor, someone who could testify on your behalf? Someone alive, someone alive?” and she saw him grimace slightly before he slowly nodded his head.
“Who?” she questioned, surprised by the answer.
“Murton! Adelaine Murton,” he answered, and she recognized that name. She was a senior who graduated in ninety-three from Slytherin, a rather quiet witch who had been the source of much gossip among the students.
Yet there was something wrong about that. From what she could recall, Adelaine Murton was dead. She was a death Eater and had been killed in a Ministry raid a couple of years before the final confrontation at the Ministry.
“But wasn’t she killed in a Ministry raid? From what I recall all that it was one led by you when you attacked Minster Bones,” and she slowed down as the dots began to connect, as she recalled the complete news.
“It was brutal death, and all they found of her was her arm,” she finished as her eyes widened and she realized the truth.
“You don’t mean?” she confirmed, and Crovus nodded.
“She was a half-blood. Her mother was a simple muggle. Her father Castellan Murton had been besotted with her for her beauty,” he began, and she was surprised by those words. Murton was an old pure-blood name, and she had never realized that Adelaine Murton had been a half-blood.
“After her birth, her father simply killed her mother,” and her fists balled up as she heard those words, and she closed her eyes. And as horrifying as this all was, she knew that this was not an uncommon scenario amongst the pure blood.
“He forced her to become a Death Eater, and she hated it. She hated it all. She would be able to testify on my behalf,” he told her as he looked towards her.
“Where can I find her?” she questioned. And Crovus opened his palms, and she was surprised as she watched as a beautiful paper bird flapped its wings and left his palm, fluttering in the air as it flew towards her.
The bird landed in her hand and began to unfold by itself, and there was a single word written on the paper.
“I don’t know exactly where she is, for I didn’t want her to be in any danger in case I failed. But I do know that she is no longer in Britain, but in….” and she completed her sentence as she read the word written on the piece of paper.
“America.”
Finding a single witch in the vast land of America was a daunting task. Yet she knew she had to do it, and she had to.
She nodded as she put the piece of paper in her pocket and looked towards Crovus.
“Don’t worry, I will find her,” she promised him and moved to leave the room, and yet she found herself halting as she opened the cell door, and she silently mouthed.
“I never thanked you for what you did for Astoria,” she spoke in a small voice, and there was silence in the room before a short reply came from behind.
“And you never have to.” She glanced back and saw him give her a weak smile as she nodded her head and walked out of the cell, determined to get him out of there.
And while she left the building, in the same building a few floors above them, two individuals were talking in a hushed tone.
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In the Ministry Halls, right above Crovus’s cell
“So, have you found a way, my dear friend?” spoke a man in a very light-hearted tone, as the woman dressed in an obnoxious pink outfit opposite to him seemed rather uneasy about this whole ordeal.
“As I said to you earlier, there is no way to get to him. He is in a highly secure cell. I cannot help you,” she nearly shrieked as the other workers simply passed through the Halls, unaware that the plot was being hatched in Infront of them.
“I am sorry, but I cannot help you with this,” she huffed haughtily as the man standing infront of her simply smiled, showing his teeth.
“Ahh, but that is where you are wrong, my dear Dolores. For you are not doing this for me. Rather, you are doing this for yourself,” he spoke much to the consternation of the obnoxiously dressed woman.
“After, how disastrous it would be for you if the truth about your true allegiances were to be released to, let’s say, the Daily Prophet or perhaps…” continued the man as the woman grew pale as a sheet.
“It miraculously finds its way into the hands of one Rita Skeeter. Oh! What a scandal would that be!” said the man, and the woman quickly cut him off.
“OK! OK, that is enough. I will see what I can do, but this is the last thing I will do for you, Murton.” she cautioned, but the man simply smiled as he adjusted his hat.
“We will see about that, Dolores. And as I told you earlier, It's Castellan Marcel. Marcel, not Murton. Marcel,” he replied as he walked away.
Leaving the woman named Dolores to herself as she stood there pale and seething in anger as she simply watched his retreating back, as she regretted her past actions.
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Adelaine Murton is a canon character. Her name was once mentioned in the books. She was a Slytherin.
Imagine her face to be kind if like Haley-Lu-Richardson.
Marcel was her mother’s last name.