NEW CHAPTER: the price of victory
November 9th, 1981 (@ FF.net)
November 9th, 1981, approximately 9:00 AM, Sirius Black receives the paper
The owl carrying the Daily Prophet swooped in as Sirius opened the window for it, and dropped the paper on the table. Sirius put a few Knuts in the pouch strapped to its foot and it flew off. He slammed the window shut behind it and unfurled the paper.
The coffee he had been holding fell from his hands and the cup shattered on the floor, the loud noise startled the half-asleep Harry, who began crying.
Remus ran to calm Harry down as Sirius’s eyes hungrily scanned the article.
“What’s up?” Remus asked once Harry stopped sobbing.
“…Peter…” was all he managed to say.
Sirius waved the paper frantically, but tried to keep quiet. Remus snatched it from him and read the headline several times before he seemed to accept his eyes weren’t tricking him.
KEY WITNESS IN DEATH EATER TRIALS FOUND MURDERED
Remus kept reading.
In the early hours of yesterday morning a patron of The Hog’s Head Inn discovered the corpse of key testifier Peter Pettigrew, his throat slit and several other, smaller wounds on his person. He was found mere hours after his body had been placed there, but law enforcement don’t believe he was killed in that location due to the minimal amount of blood. Rumors are circulating that around midnight, a stranger brought a drunken Pettigrew into the Leaky Cauldron, but left half an hour or so later, claiming that Pettigrew had fallen asleep. The identity of this person is unknown, as Pettigrew was not seen with anyone that night while out drinking.
With no information, and the fact that this killing seemed to be done in a more Muggle fashion than the Death Eater’s more preferred tool of disposal (the Avada Kedavra curse) which indicates high passion or a rather morbid sense of sadism. Without any other leads, we can only speculate. Was it a faithful of Dumbledore, enraged that Pettigrew had betrayed them? Or a faithful of Voldemort, enraged at being named in Peter’s feeble deal for freedom?
If you have any leads, the Department of Law Enforcement would be delighted to hear them.
“He made too many enemies,” Remus said, shrugging. “It was a matter of time.”
Sirius just gaped at the paper. His brain had shut off, he couldn’t form words.
“Today’s Regulus’s trial isn’t it?” Remus asked.
Sirius nodded in the positive.
“And Peter’s body was found yesterday morning.” He was pondering, then he shook his head a little, but it went unnoticed.
He nodded again. Then paused. “You think Regulus-”
“Definitely not. It could’ve been any named Death Eater. Regulus and his friend are at the bottom of the list, in my mind. Didn’t Bellatrix carry a silver knife with her?”
“Yeah. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if she did it,” Sirius said. “It wouldn’t surprise me a ruddy bit.”
“We could nip down to the Ministry and see if they’ll let us in to watch the trials if you’d like, they typically let in family for these types of things.”
“Nah. We’ll just wait until the papers release the result tonight or tomorrow,” Sirius said, looking disinterested. “And besides, who’d watch Harry?”
“Good point, I doubt they’d appreciate a hyperactive toddler in the middle of trial.”
Sirius took the paper and flipped through the rest before tossing it aside.
November 9th, 1981, approximately 11:15 AM, Barty Crouch and Regulus Black arrive in Courtroom Ten.
There were two black seats in the middle. From experience, Barty knew they would chain down anyone who sat in them.
Today, the chains didn’t appear. They weren’t chained down or locked in. It was pleasant.
In the corner of the courtroom, with a notepad and a acid green quill balanced on her knee, was Rita Skeeter.
Barty loathed reporters.
The courtroom settled down, he saw Dumbledore sitting somewhere behind his father, beside Mad-Eye Moody.
“You have been brought before the Council of Magical Law under the accusation and suspition of Death Eater, and thus Anti-Ministry, activities,” Crouch Sr. said, his voice reverberating throughout the courtroom. “Allow me to open with this; you have not, until a week ago, been accused of any Death Eater activity thus far, nor have any other confessing Death Eaters accused either of you.”
Barty and his father stared at each other for a few seconds.
“Have you participated in any illegal, Death Eater or otherwise, activity?” he asked finally.
The tension in the courtroom was positively palpable.
Regulus noticed that Barty’s mother was sitting with her husband, she looked as if she may cry or faint.
“No,” Barty lied easily. His defenses were up. Barty knew his father would try Legilimency on him, but he was better at Occlumency than he had ever let on to his father.
He only hoped the old man would stay out of Regulus’s head.
“Neither of you?” he said coldly, his pale eyes sweeping over to Regulus.
Regulus shook his head, looking haughty at the way he had been addressed.
“Minister Crouch,” a soft, simpering voice that grated on Barty’s last nerve spoke up.
“Yes, Madam Umbridge?” the Minister said, turning towards the voice. A short, toad like woman had raised her hand.
“We cannot simply free them because they said they aren’t Death Eaters! What kind of proof is that?” she said simply.
“The lack of evidence, combined with their willingness to appear in court…there’s absolutely nothing to incriminate them,” he said simply. The prospect of them going free obviously disappointed the court.
She whispered something to the Minister, who considered the statement and nodded. Umbridge left the courtroom hurriedly, and then returned with two cups of tea.
“I hope you like sugar in your tea,” she told them, handing them the cups and going back to her seat.
Barty elbowed Regulus and gestured to the cups, shaking his head.
No one in the Council seemed to notice the tiny motion.
Regulus and Barty were, surprisingly, not idiotic enough to fall for Dolores Umbridge’s Veritaserum-in-the-tea trick. Did she not realize how obvious she had made herself look?
“Drink up, boys, dehydration is a killer!” Umbridge said with a tinkling laugh.
Barty pretended to drink it, silently vanishing it in small intervals.
Regulus did the same.
How could the Ministry of Magic have hired such moronic people?
“Alright,” she said, tapping her wand on her seat. “So, we’ll ask you one more time, and beg you to answer honestly, for the sake of the law and for your father,” she said, looking directly at Barty. “Are either of you Death Eaters? Has either of you ever participated in Death Eater, or Anti-Ministry activities?”
Barty looked at Regulus, Regulus looked at Barty.
“No.” Barty pushed his hair out of his eyes.
Umbridge looked convinced, though unwillingly so.
“And Mr. Black? Have you been involved with Death Eater activity?”
“No.”
“Then you’re free to go,” Minister Crouch said, sighing heavily.
Barty gave the Council a winning smile, as he stood up and stretched out his muscles. He then grabbed Regulus by the wrist and pulled him out of the courtroom.
“That was too close,” Regulus whispered.
“I can’t believe they actually thought we’d drink that,” he said in an undertone as the people in the courtroom filed out.
Regulus laughed.
Bartemius Crouch Sr. passed them, nodding in acknowledgment of his son.
Barty’s mother hugged him.
Umbridge outright stared at the pair of them, as if they’d burst into flames and swear oaths to the Dark Lord if she looked at them long enough.
Regulus smiled pleasantly and Barty waved.
They decided that staying in the Ministry was not a good idea. They got on the lifts, standing in the back corner away from the Ministry wizards and got off at the Atrium. Regulus threw some gold in the huge golden fountain, and Barty sneered at him.
After leaving the Ministry, they walked the ten minute trek to their flat. When they got there, an owl was perched on their sofa, holding a letter.
“What’s this?” Regulus said, walking to the owl. He took the letter and the owl flew off. “You must’ve left a window open Barty,” he said as he opened the letter.
Barty was reading over his shoulder, but Regulus was used to that.
Regulus,
Since you’re reading this I’m assuming your trial went well and you and your demented friend stayed clear of Azkaban. Good on you, I knew you had a little of my talent in you. You’re going to be getting a flood of owls from Mother and other family members saying the same thing, and you can nearly count on a home visit from Bellatrix if she’s still breathing.
As a free Death Eater, you aren’t safe. Illustrated by what happened to Pettigrew yesterday, people who sneak out of the clutches of Azkaban, either by bargaining or outright lying, are in danger of a serious backlash, whether by the general public or Death Eaters who’ve not been put on trial.
I’m telling you this because I’d like to extend an offer to you. Remus, Harry and I are moving out of London in roughly a week. My offer is for you to stay with us, until things die down. Until the trials end, until the more dangerous of your lot is put away or killed. Basically, until I’m sure you aren’t going to end up in the Prophet murdered like Peter.
Think it over, write me back.
Sirius
“Rubbish,” Regulus snorted, chucking the letter aside.
Barty stayed quiet.
“Like I can’t take care of myself,” he said, sounding peeved. “Isn’t it ridiculous?”
“Not really.”
“What?”
Barty busied himself with getting something alcoholic to drink. Regulus going to go on one of his Sirius-related tirades if he didn’t get him slightly intoxicated. “He’s right. It’s not safe here, maybe getting out of the picture for a while would keep you safe. And Sirius probably has the best protection to offer on his place, with that Potter boy there, you’d be safe.”
“I don’t need protecting!”
“Let’s be honest,” Barty said, getting more and more irritated. He slammed the bottle in his hands down on the counter. “Bellatrix isn’t exactly fucking sunshine, Lucius backed down the second the Dark Lord died and the only reason she didn’t fucking murder him was that he disappeared, and there was no need to hurt Cissa or her brat for the moron’s incompetence. You won’t have the leisure of up and leaving for France or wherever. Maybe you should accept that he’s worried about you and accept his help. Bella, Rabastan and Rodolphus are still running about causing chaos, they’ll hear about us getting off and they won’t be happy. It wouldn’t surprise me if they killed Pettigrew.” He gritted his teeth. “You aren’t safe.”
“Neither are you,” Regulus said, he was pleading now.
“I’ll be fine. You’re being offered protection, take it.”
“Will you come with me?”
“Sirius hates me.” He poured drinks. “He wants to protect you, not me.” All he had was Muggle liquor, but there wasn’t a whole lot of difference.
Regulus had been around Barty nearly everyday of his life since he was eleven. Seeing as he was twenty now, that’s a good lot of time.
“How long do you think I’d have to stay?”
“I don’t know, until around Christmas maybe? Or until they stop hunting Death Eaters. Whenever. That doesn’t really matter.”
Regulus accepted his drink and looked defeated. “If you really want me too.”
“Of course I don’t want you to. But I also don’t want my head mounted on a plaque in Grimmauld Place if something were to happen to you, because Walburga is looking for an excuse to chop me up into little bits.”
They both laughed a little as the first wave of drinks began to set in. After the finished off an entire bottle, Barty was sneaking back to his room.
But Regulus, of course, heard him and followed.
“You should go to bed,” Barty said. Of course, getting your point across to an intoxicated Black is like trying to sing a love song to a dragon.
It doesn’t work out very well.
Regulus curled up in a ball on Barty’s bed, and Barty stretched out in the bit of space Regulus wasn’t occupying.
“So you think I should go?” he asked, his voice slurring a little.
Barty just nodded, staring at the ceiling.
“I don’t think we’ve been separated since we met,” Regulus noted. He happened to be a rather honest drunk. It was kind of annoying.
“I don’t think so either,” Barty said simply.
“What’ll you do while I’m gone?”
“Lie low. Get Umbridge off our trail. Watch the signs.”
Regulus couldn’t really understand all of this but he nodded in agreement. “Mum is going to want me to go home.”
“If you go there, you’ll never come back. Go with Sirius.”
Regulus yawned and tried to stretched out, but ended up tumbling off the bed. “Ow.”
“Are you alright?” Barty asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, standing up rubbing his head. “My head cushioned my fall.”
Barty laughed, but it was cut short by Regulus stooping back down.
“What happened?” he asked, dangling a bloody white T-shirt in front of Barty. “I thought you broke the habit of killing animals.”
“I did,” he said, swallowing the knot in his throat. “But you know, since I’m not out with Death Eaters- the habit’s kind of coming back.”
“Oh…” But Regulus wasn’t really buying it.
November 9th, 1981, approximately 9:00 AM, Sirius Black receives the paper
The owl carrying the Daily Prophet swooped in as Sirius opened the window for it, and dropped the paper on the table. Sirius put a few Knuts in the pouch strapped to its foot and it flew off. He slammed the window shut behind it and unfurled the paper.
The coffee he had been holding fell from his hands and the cup shattered on the floor, the loud noise startled the half-asleep Harry, who began crying.
Remus ran to calm Harry down as Sirius’s eyes hungrily scanned the article.
“What’s up?” Remus asked once Harry stopped sobbing.
“…Peter…” was all he managed to say.
Sirius waved the paper frantically, but tried to keep quiet. Remus snatched it from him and read the headline several times before he seemed to accept his eyes weren’t tricking him.
KEY WITNESS IN DEATH EATER TRIALS FOUND MURDERED
Remus kept reading.
In the early hours of yesterday morning a patron of The Hog’s Head Inn discovered the corpse of key testifier Peter Pettigrew, his throat slit and several other, smaller wounds on his person. He was found mere hours after his body had been placed there, but law enforcement don’t believe he was killed in that location due to the minimal amount of blood. Rumors are circulating that around midnight, a stranger brought a drunken Pettigrew into the Leaky Cauldron, but left half an hour or so later, claiming that Pettigrew had fallen asleep. The identity of this person is unknown, as Pettigrew was not seen with anyone that night while out drinking.
With no information, and the fact that this killing seemed to be done in a more Muggle fashion than the Death Eater’s more preferred tool of disposal (the Avada Kedavra curse) which indicates high passion or a rather morbid sense of sadism. Without any other leads, we can only speculate. Was it a faithful of Dumbledore, enraged that Pettigrew had betrayed them? Or a faithful of Voldemort, enraged at being named in Peter’s feeble deal for freedom?
If you have any leads, the Department of Law Enforcement would be delighted to hear them.
“He made too many enemies,” Remus said, shrugging. “It was a matter of time.”
Sirius just gaped at the paper. His brain had shut off, he couldn’t form words.
“Today’s Regulus’s trial isn’t it?” Remus asked.
Sirius nodded in the positive.
“And Peter’s body was found yesterday morning.” He was pondering, then he shook his head a little, but it went unnoticed.
He nodded again. Then paused. “You think Regulus-”
“Definitely not. It could’ve been any named Death Eater. Regulus and his friend are at the bottom of the list, in my mind. Didn’t Bellatrix carry a silver knife with her?”
“Yeah. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if she did it,” Sirius said. “It wouldn’t surprise me a ruddy bit.”
“We could nip down to the Ministry and see if they’ll let us in to watch the trials if you’d like, they typically let in family for these types of things.”
“Nah. We’ll just wait until the papers release the result tonight or tomorrow,” Sirius said, looking disinterested. “And besides, who’d watch Harry?”
“Good point, I doubt they’d appreciate a hyperactive toddler in the middle of trial.”
Sirius took the paper and flipped through the rest before tossing it aside.
November 9th, 1981, approximately 11:15 AM, Barty Crouch and Regulus Black arrive in Courtroom Ten.
There were two black seats in the middle. From experience, Barty knew they would chain down anyone who sat in them.
Today, the chains didn’t appear. They weren’t chained down or locked in. It was pleasant.
In the corner of the courtroom, with a notepad and a acid green quill balanced on her knee, was Rita Skeeter.
Barty loathed reporters.
The courtroom settled down, he saw Dumbledore sitting somewhere behind his father, beside Mad-Eye Moody.
“You have been brought before the Council of Magical Law under the accusation and suspition of Death Eater, and thus Anti-Ministry, activities,” Crouch Sr. said, his voice reverberating throughout the courtroom. “Allow me to open with this; you have not, until a week ago, been accused of any Death Eater activity thus far, nor have any other confessing Death Eaters accused either of you.”
Barty and his father stared at each other for a few seconds.
“Have you participated in any illegal, Death Eater or otherwise, activity?” he asked finally.
The tension in the courtroom was positively palpable.
Regulus noticed that Barty’s mother was sitting with her husband, she looked as if she may cry or faint.
“No,” Barty lied easily. His defenses were up. Barty knew his father would try Legilimency on him, but he was better at Occlumency than he had ever let on to his father.
He only hoped the old man would stay out of Regulus’s head.
“Neither of you?” he said coldly, his pale eyes sweeping over to Regulus.
Regulus shook his head, looking haughty at the way he had been addressed.
“Minister Crouch,” a soft, simpering voice that grated on Barty’s last nerve spoke up.
“Yes, Madam Umbridge?” the Minister said, turning towards the voice. A short, toad like woman had raised her hand.
“We cannot simply free them because they said they aren’t Death Eaters! What kind of proof is that?” she said simply.
“The lack of evidence, combined with their willingness to appear in court…there’s absolutely nothing to incriminate them,” he said simply. The prospect of them going free obviously disappointed the court.
She whispered something to the Minister, who considered the statement and nodded. Umbridge left the courtroom hurriedly, and then returned with two cups of tea.
“I hope you like sugar in your tea,” she told them, handing them the cups and going back to her seat.
Barty elbowed Regulus and gestured to the cups, shaking his head.
No one in the Council seemed to notice the tiny motion.
Regulus and Barty were, surprisingly, not idiotic enough to fall for Dolores Umbridge’s Veritaserum-in-the-tea trick. Did she not realize how obvious she had made herself look?
“Drink up, boys, dehydration is a killer!” Umbridge said with a tinkling laugh.
Barty pretended to drink it, silently vanishing it in small intervals.
Regulus did the same.
How could the Ministry of Magic have hired such moronic people?
“Alright,” she said, tapping her wand on her seat. “So, we’ll ask you one more time, and beg you to answer honestly, for the sake of the law and for your father,” she said, looking directly at Barty. “Are either of you Death Eaters? Has either of you ever participated in Death Eater, or Anti-Ministry activities?”
Barty looked at Regulus, Regulus looked at Barty.
“No.” Barty pushed his hair out of his eyes.
Umbridge looked convinced, though unwillingly so.
“And Mr. Black? Have you been involved with Death Eater activity?”
“No.”
“Then you’re free to go,” Minister Crouch said, sighing heavily.
Barty gave the Council a winning smile, as he stood up and stretched out his muscles. He then grabbed Regulus by the wrist and pulled him out of the courtroom.
“That was too close,” Regulus whispered.
“I can’t believe they actually thought we’d drink that,” he said in an undertone as the people in the courtroom filed out.
Regulus laughed.
Bartemius Crouch Sr. passed them, nodding in acknowledgment of his son.
Barty’s mother hugged him.
Umbridge outright stared at the pair of them, as if they’d burst into flames and swear oaths to the Dark Lord if she looked at them long enough.
Regulus smiled pleasantly and Barty waved.
They decided that staying in the Ministry was not a good idea. They got on the lifts, standing in the back corner away from the Ministry wizards and got off at the Atrium. Regulus threw some gold in the huge golden fountain, and Barty sneered at him.
After leaving the Ministry, they walked the ten minute trek to their flat. When they got there, an owl was perched on their sofa, holding a letter.
“What’s this?” Regulus said, walking to the owl. He took the letter and the owl flew off. “You must’ve left a window open Barty,” he said as he opened the letter.
Barty was reading over his shoulder, but Regulus was used to that.
Regulus,
Since you’re reading this I’m assuming your trial went well and you and your demented friend stayed clear of Azkaban. Good on you, I knew you had a little of my talent in you. You’re going to be getting a flood of owls from Mother and other family members saying the same thing, and you can nearly count on a home visit from Bellatrix if she’s still breathing.
As a free Death Eater, you aren’t safe. Illustrated by what happened to Pettigrew yesterday, people who sneak out of the clutches of Azkaban, either by bargaining or outright lying, are in danger of a serious backlash, whether by the general public or Death Eaters who’ve not been put on trial.
I’m telling you this because I’d like to extend an offer to you. Remus, Harry and I are moving out of London in roughly a week. My offer is for you to stay with us, until things die down. Until the trials end, until the more dangerous of your lot is put away or killed. Basically, until I’m sure you aren’t going to end up in the Prophet murdered like Peter.
Think it over, write me back.
Sirius
“Rubbish,” Regulus snorted, chucking the letter aside.
Barty stayed quiet.
“Like I can’t take care of myself,” he said, sounding peeved. “Isn’t it ridiculous?”
“Not really.”
“What?”
Barty busied himself with getting something alcoholic to drink. Regulus going to go on one of his Sirius-related tirades if he didn’t get him slightly intoxicated. “He’s right. It’s not safe here, maybe getting out of the picture for a while would keep you safe. And Sirius probably has the best protection to offer on his place, with that Potter boy there, you’d be safe.”
“I don’t need protecting!”
“Let’s be honest,” Barty said, getting more and more irritated. He slammed the bottle in his hands down on the counter. “Bellatrix isn’t exactly fucking sunshine, Lucius backed down the second the Dark Lord died and the only reason she didn’t fucking murder him was that he disappeared, and there was no need to hurt Cissa or her brat for the moron’s incompetence. You won’t have the leisure of up and leaving for France or wherever. Maybe you should accept that he’s worried about you and accept his help. Bella, Rabastan and Rodolphus are still running about causing chaos, they’ll hear about us getting off and they won’t be happy. It wouldn’t surprise me if they killed Pettigrew.” He gritted his teeth. “You aren’t safe.”
“Neither are you,” Regulus said, he was pleading now.
“I’ll be fine. You’re being offered protection, take it.”
“Will you come with me?”
“Sirius hates me.” He poured drinks. “He wants to protect you, not me.” All he had was Muggle liquor, but there wasn’t a whole lot of difference.
Regulus had been around Barty nearly everyday of his life since he was eleven. Seeing as he was twenty now, that’s a good lot of time.
“How long do you think I’d have to stay?”
“I don’t know, until around Christmas maybe? Or until they stop hunting Death Eaters. Whenever. That doesn’t really matter.”
Regulus accepted his drink and looked defeated. “If you really want me too.”
“Of course I don’t want you to. But I also don’t want my head mounted on a plaque in Grimmauld Place if something were to happen to you, because Walburga is looking for an excuse to chop me up into little bits.”
They both laughed a little as the first wave of drinks began to set in. After the finished off an entire bottle, Barty was sneaking back to his room.
But Regulus, of course, heard him and followed.
“You should go to bed,” Barty said. Of course, getting your point across to an intoxicated Black is like trying to sing a love song to a dragon.
It doesn’t work out very well.
Regulus curled up in a ball on Barty’s bed, and Barty stretched out in the bit of space Regulus wasn’t occupying.
“So you think I should go?” he asked, his voice slurring a little.
Barty just nodded, staring at the ceiling.
“I don’t think we’ve been separated since we met,” Regulus noted. He happened to be a rather honest drunk. It was kind of annoying.
“I don’t think so either,” Barty said simply.
“What’ll you do while I’m gone?”
“Lie low. Get Umbridge off our trail. Watch the signs.”
Regulus couldn’t really understand all of this but he nodded in agreement. “Mum is going to want me to go home.”
“If you go there, you’ll never come back. Go with Sirius.”
Regulus yawned and tried to stretched out, but ended up tumbling off the bed. “Ow.”
“Are you alright?” Barty asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, standing up rubbing his head. “My head cushioned my fall.”
Barty laughed, but it was cut short by Regulus stooping back down.
“What happened?” he asked, dangling a bloody white T-shirt in front of Barty. “I thought you broke the habit of killing animals.”
“I did,” he said, swallowing the knot in his throat. “But you know, since I’m not out with Death Eaters- the habit’s kind of coming back.”
“Oh…” But Regulus wasn’t really buying it.