dedicated to AmandaBeast for the cover ~ I think it matches this chapter very well!

Ch. 12: A Thief's Trial

Song For This Chapter: Yellow Flicker Beat — Lorde

I froze at the sound of others in the room along with me. I was not as alone as I had previously thought. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimmer lighting within the cell-like holding space, but, I quickly realized that there were four others in the cell with me. All of them were petrified with fear.

There were two men, of whom I assumed had spoken just moments before, and two women. One was smiling at me, polite but still scared, while the other was bundled up in a corner, rocking herself back and forth in slow and steady motions.

I pulled away from the bars, and suddenly became very aware of how cold my feet were. Here I was, barefoot and in my penguin pajama pants in the basement of the Ministry of Magic. Clearing my throat, I adjusted my baggy shirt as it slipped over my shoulder. "Uh, sorry."

Stepping towards the middle of the close-cornered room, I felt the chill grow steadily stronger, seeping into my very marrow. Shivering, my heart began to sink from my throat to the pit of my stomach. There was something not right about this feeling.

"You were in hiding, right?" One of the men asked, crossing his arms over his chest. The man was significantly older, with peppered blond hair and slightly fogged grey eyes. He was wearing a tan overcoat and neat trousers, looking much more professional than myself.

Frowning, I didn't enjoy the way his words felt like a judgement. "In a way," I snapped, feeling fear and a loss of hope in my words, "what makes you think that?" My cheek stung as I spoke, reminding me of the fact that I was a prisoner, that we all were.

"That one over there was in hiding too," the older man sighed, jabbing his thumb towards the girl rocking herself as tears fell from her cheeks, "she's been crying non-stop."

A slightly smiling woman, though seeming pained, stepped forward. "That's b-because of the dementors," the woman whispered the word, "she's been here a while longer than the rest of us." Her voice shook with fear and she crossed her arms over her chest, attempting to bring warmth to her cold body. "W-We're all scared..."

"Dementors?" I asked. The second man, who appeared to be in his late twenties, merely pointed up to the ceiling. Following the path he made with his body, I glanced up to see a barrier between us and the actual ceiling of our cell block. Hovering, just five or more feet above us, were a gang of hungry dementors. "What is wrong with these people?!"

Making eye contact with the dementors turned out to be one of the worst things I could have done. I had never seen a dementor before, but, I had certainly read about what they did to their victims. With the realization of the monsters in the room, I seemed to fall suddenly ill with a panic attack.

My lungs gasped for air, but it was as if there was none to be consumed. So, I struggled. Gasping and choking, choking and gasping, all the while feeling my sense of hope and everything that had once made me happy slip through my fingertips.

"Bloody hell," the older man rolled his eyes in annoyance, "sit down. You'll be fine."

I toppled onto the ground and pulled my knees up to my chin, clamping my eyes shut as the cold grasp of being utterly alone gripped my soul. Muttering under my breath, I tried to recall all the things that made me happy, in hopes that I could latch onto that feeling.

I thought of Jenna and Lana and their stupid puns. I thought of Hermione and Harry and Ron. I thought of Fred and George and Ginny and Blake and all the others that had made my time at Hogwarts so precious to me. And, steadily, it began to feel all right. While everything was cold and unsure, I still had some idea of who I was — for now anyway.

Under my breath, I muttered, "Reason one: you have two idiot stalkers that have been there for you since before all this mess." Jenna and Lana had always made me feel better. I brought the memory of them surprising me at the Twin's flat into the front of my mind. This time, this precious memory, was the very same one I continually used when producing a Patronus charm. And, it warmed my frozen bones. Even if just for a bit.

"There's a girl," the nice woman from earlier smiled, sitting beside me. Slowing my breathing, I looked at the woman and assessed her kind eyes with a deep appreciation. However, I could see the terror on her face and could feel her bones quivering in the air next to me.

I gnawed on a loose piece of dry skin that jutted off my bottom lip before turning back to the scared woman. "I'm Elizabeth," I paused as I said my full name. For the first time in my life, it felt right. "Elizabeth Dowel."

"Nice to meet you," the woman's lips fluttered between a forced smile and a marred frown, "m-my name's Mary Cattermole." She analyzed my face for a moment, eyes settling on my swollen cheek for a topic. "That looks bad, did they do that to you?"

I simply nodded.

I let the conversation die after that, unable to bring myself to attempt to force a proper acquaintance. It was too cold here, it was too dark to try and spend the extra energy. I pressed my bare feet closer to my body. I was becoming numb at an alarming rate.

"Mary," I spoke softly, eyes trained on the smiling penguin pattern of my pajama pants, "what's going to happen to us?"

Mary's frown deepened for a moment, but she tucked a strand of course, black curls behind her ear and sighed. "Well, we are going to be tried. . . for what, I'm not su—"

"—I'll tell you for what!" The older man shouted back, interrupting our conversation. "We're being tried for being Mudbloods."

"Antony, please," Mary begged, eyes wide. "My husband works for the Ministry. They haven't gotten that bad as to start accusing Muggle-born people for no reason—"

"—No reason," The man mimicked Mary's higher-pitched tone, clearly showing how scared she was. "Heh, I'll give you a bloody reason: we're trash." Mary flinched back at his words, a glint of tears showing in the darkness of her eyes.

"Hey! You don't have to be a dick, she's trying to make the best out of this situation," I spat out, feeling the burst of anger quickly evaporate into quiet desperation once more. The old man huffed and waved away my words as he walked farther down into the holding area.

I offered Mary a smile.

Footsteps could be heard echoing off the walls of the hallway just outside the cell door, and, soon the people belonging to them stopped at the door. I wanted to feel scared, I wanted to be terrified. I couldn't bring myself to feel anything but nothing. Nothing but the chasmic emptiness of eternity — as if there was no way I could ever feel the need to be scared again, as if life was at it's lowest.

Perhaps I was right.

Light spewed out against our eyes, and I filched at the sudden onslaught to my senses. Putting a hand over my brow, to shade my corneas, I found that my assumption of life not possibly getting any worse had been wrong. Only now, now that I could see an outline of my trial before me, did I realize how much worse it could become.

The shadow in the doorway was far more scary than any Dementor could ever be.

"Eh-hem," the treacherous creature cleared her throat, leaning so the light showed her features instead of simply her ominous shadow. "Shall we proceed to the trial room?" If Umbridge recognized me, she didn't make any notion of it.

One by one, the people that had been waiting in the holding cell followed Umbridge and her nervously quivering companion out into the hallway. I waited for the girl who had been sobbing, and as she finally made her way closer to me, I could see how rough she must of had it.

Her red colored hair was matted and caked with dirt and grease, and her red-rimmed eyes continued to shine with tears, but she sniffed and wiped her nose as she approached me, shoving down her emotions. As she came into the light, I realized she had to be about the age of thirteen or so, still very young.

She didn't even glance up to any of the people she passed, simply following the group as they led her out. I followed closely behind, stopping for only a moment to send one last fleeting glance to the Dementors that hovered in the space of the enclosed cell. I didn't want to think about where this trial would lead us. However, I had the sinking feeling that I already knew.

Umbridge led the group of Muggleborns further down the black marbled hall, rarely glancing back to send the group so much as a dirty snarl. I cursed at her in my mind, glaring at the back of her bow-clad head as I hoped and hoped for it to pop, wringing my hands as I did. If only I had my wand.

My eyes met with the flighty secretary — as I assumed — of Umbridge as her hooked gaze continued to flicker back and forth from Umbridge to myself in the far back of the group. I shot her a sharp glare and wrinkled my nose. Anyone who worked for Umbridge was clearly no good. The woman seemed to flinch away from Umbridge as we walked, but bowed her head away from my piercing eyes.

Frowning, I shook my head in distaste, crossing my arms over my baggy t-shirt. The feeling of complete despair was slowly ebbing, and if felt as if a great fog was lifting from my clouded mind, allowing me to think clearly.

Yet, even with the fog of fear being lifted, I was smart enough to realize that there was no possible way out of this situation. I was going to die. This was going to be the end. All I could think about was Fred, as stupid as it was.

I could only see his bruised and bloodied face.

I could only hear his last words to me, "Elle, I'll get you out I —"

I didn't even get to say goodbye. Perhaps that was the worst part of it.

I wasn't sure if Fred was planning some elaborate scheme to come get me, however, part of me hoped he wouldn't. No matter how much I wanted to live — which I did — I couldn't stand the thought of him dying trying to save me. It was too dangerous.

Shaking my head, I removed that thought from my head. No one was dying. Not me, not Hermione, not Harry, nor Ginny, nor Lana, nor Jenna, and definitely not Fred.

The 'court' room that Umbridge and her partner led our group to was completely devoid of any human life. And, as the temperature dropped when we entered the room, I realized that here too were Dementors awaiting a fresh meal.

'Brilliant, just fan-fucking-tastic', I thought, running a hand through my hair. The situation was just getting better and better it seemed.

"We shall begin in alphabetical order," the toad croaked, adjusting her atrocious pink bow. "That would start us with . . .," Umbridge paused a moment to gaze down at the files in her taloned fingers, "Mary Elizabeth Cattermole."

Armed men came out from the shadows, at least a dozen of them. Two of the men grabbed Mary, giving her a fright, while the rest took me and the group of Muggleborn citizens and placed us in a locked row of pews. Witnesses, the dark thought in the back of my mind murmured.

The color that had only just recently returned to Mary's face began to drain once more as she was handcuffed to a shackled chair in the midst of the courtroom, watching as Dementors hovered overhead, sucking the hope from the air.

I too could feel myself slipping back into the cold grip of horrifying fear.

My heart thumped wickedly against my ribs as I watched Umbridge take a seat at a high position, acting as the judge and the prosecutor in this courtroom apparently. The flighty woman with the nervous hazel eyes met my gaze once more, and seemed to fit awkwardly into the whole situation. I wondered who she was.

After a couple minutes of an awkward and intense silence, Umbridge cleared her throat and glanced towards the woman. "Mafalda, aren't you going to take your seat?"

The woman perked up, or in better sense of the word: jolted, at the sound of the toad's voice and quickly nodded, as if her life depended on it. I was beginning to think the woman's life did. "U-uhmh, mhm," Mafalda squeaked.

Once she was seated, Umbridge cast a Patronus charm, which sickeningly formed the shape of a cat, to keep herself 'cozy' in the midst of all the 'darkness' in the courtroom. I wanted to be sick.

"All right, let us begin," Umbridge smiled a menacing grimace down at poor Mary, who I could tell was shaking from fear. "Your name is Mary Elizabeth Cattermole, correct?"

"Y-yes," she nodded.

"Mother to Maisie, Ellie, and Alfred Cattermole, correct?" The high-pitched tone and the cold edge in Umbridge's voice was enough to raise the hair on my arms. She made me want to strangle her, and, I would probably be doing the wizarding world some good if I could.

"Y-Yes," Mary nodded. "My daughters, ye—"

"—Wife to Reginald?"

The sound of more footsteps echoing off the walls of the basement court room reverberated though out, and I quickly craned my neck towards the archway to see whom it was that planned on entering, and if it was someone I knew.

To my disappointment, it was two Ministry workers, simply attending the court ruling. Mary, however, seemed slightly calmer at the sight of the men, and offered a sweet, but sad, smile as she whispered the name Reg under her voice. She attempted to extend her hand towards one of the men, but the shackles kept her arm pinned down tightly.

The shorter, more stern looking man, shoved the lanky, blonde haired man towards the center of the room, to Mary's awaiting hand. Gingerly, the nervous man took Mary's offering of affection and forced a smile, all the while I could feel their pain. Again, I willed for Umbridge's head to explode.

"Mary Elizabeth Cattermole?"

There was a brief pause, and Mary swallowed her fear. "Yes . . .," she whispered.

"A wand," Umbridge towered over all of us, "was taken from you upon your arrival to the Ministry of Magic today, Mrs. Cattermole. Is this," she held up an ebony colored wand, jammed between her thumb and forefinger, as if it was something disgusting to the touch, "that wand?"

Umbridge. Umbridge has my wand.

That was the only thing that truly mattered to me in that moment. If I even wanted to try and escape, I couldn't. I was a witch without a wand. I was hopeless. Fred and Hermione had been wrong. I would have been much better off with the trio, it would seem.

"Can you report from which wizard or witch you took this wand from?" Umbridge's shrill tone grated against my eardrums. Suddenly, it all clicked for me. While the Ministry couldn't quite yet toss Muggle borne witches and wizards into Azkaban for being Muggle borne, they could very well accuse them of being thieves.

This was a thief's trial.

"I didn't take it," Mary murmured quietly, head bowed low. "I got it at Diagon Alley, at Ollivander's when I was eleven," she said, stressing her words. I could feel tears prick against my eyes at her desperation for Umbridge to believe her. I knew Umbridge too well to be naive enough to believe this would be a fair trial. "It chose me!"

"You're lying," Umbridge hissed, leaning foreword on her podium to glare maliciously down at Mary, "wands only chose witches. And you? Well, you are very well not a witch."

I couldn't stand to see the tears roll down Mary's cheeks as she pleaded for her husband to confirm for her that she was indeed a witch. An iron taste on my tongue was a well enough sign for me to know I was about to make a mistake. But, I very well did it anyway.

"You horrid hag!" I squeaked. In my mind, my voice was strong willed and firm, but, it had not worked out the way I had planned. Still, my anger out shown my pride. "You know very well that we are witches and wizards! Fucking hell, you taught me! You're just a prejudiced, no good, piece of centaur shit with an ugly pink bow!"

'I shouldn't have said that,' I told myself, feeling my cheeks immediately burn with embarrassment. But, Godric, had that felt so fucking good to say. Umbridge stood from her chair, eyes wide, and actually looked at me for the first time. I watched her eye twitch with an angry twitch before she raised her own wand to me.

"Crucio."

Red hot pain fired though out every orifice and every pore in my being. It was like a few hundred branding irons were being pressed onto my skin as I toppled down onto the cold stone floor of the courtroom, feeling my body spasm without control.

When the pain finally stopped, I heaved a mouthful of sticky, yellow bile onto the floor beside my hands, feeling the acid burn my esophagus as I sputtered and choked for air. My stomach lurched once more, dry pumping for something to spew, but there was nothing to be chucked. I was empty.

"Urgh," I moaned, wiping vomit off the side of my mouth with the back of my hand as one of the men beside me helped me back up onto my feet. "You . . . you know what else?" I tried to speak up, but the acid in my throat marred my volume, "pink . . . looks hideous on you!" Umbridge raised her wand once more.

"That's enough!" A squeaky voice rang out, cutting into my hazy mind like a knife. The voice was at once exceedingly familiar to me, as well as a complete shock. Frowning, I whipped my head towards the sound of Hermione's voice, but only was met with the quivering frame of the Mafalda woman.

Umbridge didn't seem to notice that the voice was my sisters, and instead seemed to think that 'Mafalda' was defending her and her hideous color scheme palate. And, if all of this didn't seem crazy enough for me, like Umbridge thinking her fashion was good and me loosing my mind pretending that Hermione was here, it would seem that the short, angry man had pulled out a wand and intended to use it.

"What do you think you're doing?" Umbridge demanded from the man, eyes growing wide, but not making a move to protect herself, because this man was clearly a Death Eater, or someone she knew.

Either way, I couldn't bring myself to care. I ached all over, and, though it had been totally worth it, it probably didn't help my case for the future and I was no doubt a dead woman walking. I wondered if they would let me see Fred one last time. Something told me they wouldn't.

"You're lying Dolores," the man hissed, raising his wand. Furrowing my brow, I inched closer to the barrier I was stuck behind, making sure to dodge my vomit with my bare feet. There was something . . . not right with the man's face. And, upon further inspection, I realized that his skin was boiling and bubbling under the surface. "You must not tell lies!"

'That phrase,' a lightbulb flashed on in my mind.

"STUPEFY!" The bubbling man shouted, hitting Umbridge square in the chest. The spell knocked the toad unconscious as she hit her head on the wood of her podium with a sicking crack. It wasn't an explosion, of course, but I figured it would do.

The man's body began to bend and reshape, and I caught a glimpse of his new face. ". . . Harry?"

~~~~~~~

[not edited]

wow! an actual, on-time update?!

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