Trials and Tribulations

Trials and Tribulations - Chapter 3


Disclaimer:  All characters
and situations are the property of JK Rowling, her publishers Scholastic
and Bloomsbury and the WB.  I intend no copyright infringement and
make no money from this.  The chapter title is a quote from the Bible
(Genesis 1:2) which I did not write and I did not publish.  'Ode to
Joy' from Beethoven's 9th Symphony belongs to Beethoven, which is a bit
unfortunate seeing e's e's dead.  The words, in German, belong to
Schellwer.  I don't make any money out of them either.  The conductor
mentioned, Wilhelm Furtwängler, isn't mine either, and neither are
the choir and orchestra 'Der Bayreuther Festspiele'.  I only know
who they are because my father's a classical music nut, and he said if
I wanted a top conductor he'd be the one to go for.  See, I do research!
Author's Notes:  Chapter three in my Trials and Tribulations
series.  Much thanks to my ever gorgeous beta readers, Ria and Big
Momma.  Also for this chapter, much thanks to those who helped me
with various bits of research, nexis and my Dad.  Also much thanks
to my German translator, Serena.  This chapter is dedicated to nexis
who is determined to read this fic, even though she's never touched a Harry
Potter book in her life *Grins*.  Please send feedback here.
*****
Darkness was on the Face of the Deep
August 25th, 2006
Harry sighed softly and turned his head to the right, looking out of
the small, dirty window at the Northern end of Portabello Road Market. 
Fewer people visited this end of the market, for it was further away from
Notting Hill Station and the items sold were generally of a less desirable
nature.  Harry knew that there would be quite a few wizards down there,
trying to off load Dark items to whom ever would have them.  It was
really a pretty good place to have the main London Branch Office for the
Department of Mysteries.  Who would suspect that a run down block
of flats that had only been half-heartedly repaired after their demolition
in World War Two, would hold, on its uppermost floors, a suite of offices
full of Unspeakables?
He ed bed back down at the file in his lap and sighed again.  He
flicked it shut and read the cursive script that denoted that the file
contained the ‘Record of Criminal Offence – Professor Severus A. Snape’. 
Harry had dropped into the Department for Magical Law Enforcement on the
pre-text of visiting a few old friends.  It was really quite useful
having Ron work there, even if he was rarely in his office.  Whilst
there, he had managed to sneak the file out.  After all, he was an
Unspeakable and could do pretty much as he liked without too many questions
asked.
Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head back, thinking over what Hermione
had called the ‘order of events’.  Harry was entitled to look at whatever
files he felt were necessary to the case and had access to all the evidence
but did not have to officially declare himself as Snape's acting defence. 
Not yet, anyway.  He would also need to visit Snape and soon. 
After all, it was only fair really that he knew who was conducting his
defence.  Harry felt a persistent thrum in his temple at that thought. 
He could just imagine Snape's response.  “You are conducting my
defence, Potter?  Well, I suppose I had better get used to shower
time fun with the Dementors.  Who knows, I may even be here long enough
to make someone my ‘bitch’!”  Harry groaned.  This would
not be easy.
“Harry?”  His eyes snapped open and instinctively moved to the
door.  “Harry, are you there?”
The voice was familiar and came from the fireplace.  Harry grinned
and slid his feet from their resting place on his paper covered desk. 
“Yeah, I’m here Ron.”  He dropped down by the fireplace, leaning close
to the flames.
“All right there, Harry?”
“Not bad.”
“Not bad?  You look like you haven’t slept properly for a fortnight!” 
Ron’s semi-transparent head frowned at him.  Harry simply nodded. 
“Well, anyway, I’m afraid I’m not stopping in for pleasantries.”
'Uh oh,' Harry thought.  'That’s his ‘business’ voice. 
That’s the voice he learned from Hermione.'
Harry gulped faintly and nodded again.  “Go on.”
“You’ve heard about Snape, of course.  I think everyone has, it’s
been all over the papers.”
“Yeah, I dropped by your office earlier.  I was hoping to talk
to you about it.  Listen, Ron, you’ve been to loads of these trials…”
Ron interrupted him sharply, “Sorry, Harry, but I don’t have much time. 
I just wanted to let you know.  Der Führer-“  ‘Der Führer’
was an affectionate nickname Ron had bestowed upon the Minister for Magical
Law Enforcement, “-says he’s ready to give me my big break.  He’s
put me in charge of the prosecution for this one.  Says he wants someone
with an inside view on the guy, and figured an ex-pupil was probably as
close as you’re going to get to a loner like Snape.”
Harry managed to cover up a choked sound of surprise with a small coughing
fit.  He didn’t need a mirror to know that the colour had drained
from his face and his mouth was probably gaping like that of a dead fish. 
His mind’s voice was keeping up a steady litany:  'Bugger! 
Bugger, bugger, bugger!'
Ron was grinning proudly at him.  “When you’re done choking there,
mate.  I know, it shocked me, too.  I’m actually going to get
a chance for revenge.  Seven years of long, hard Potions lessons full
of insults and I’m finally going to get my own back.”
Harry tried to keep his voice as controlled as possible but knew it
would still sound strained, “You don’t think perhaps helping the Ministry
hand him over to the Dementors is a little much for just having a crap
attitude and not liking his job?”
Ron frowned at him again.  “What?  Harry…” The red-haired
head turned away for a moment and said something Harry couldn’t hear, before
turning back to him again.  “Look, Harry, I’ve got to go.  Der
Führer is patrolling the ranks again.”  Ron grinned and rolled
his eyes.  “I’ll speak to you soon, yeah?”
Ron had disappeared before Harry could answer.
“Sooner, maybe, than you think.”
Letting out his breath in another big, long sigh Harry stood and returned
to his desk.  He sat back, resting his hands behind his head and lifted
one boot-clad foot onto the desk, followed by the other.  This wasn’t
good.  This wasn’t good at all.  His eyes fell on the innocent
looking red folder once again.  Harry reached for it for one more
inspection.  His brain, however, had other ideas and was starting
to wander.
*****
21st December, 2003 - Hogwarts
Harry’s back ached.  So did his shoulders.  His neck, too,
for that matter, and while he was at it, his arms had definitely felt better
days.  'I’m getting old,' he thought with a certain amount
of irony.  He was half way through his last year at school, and already
felt like a Grandfather.  The raven-haired boy wandered down the stone
steps into the Hogwarts dungeons.  Even though school had finished
for the Christmas Holidays two days ago, Harry still wore the thick black
robes and cloak of the school uniform, more for practicality than anything
else.  Scotland was not the warmest place in winter.
Harry’s hand brushed over the icy cold, damp stone walls as he bypassed
the maze-like corridors.  His feet knew exactly where they were taking
him, so no actual thought was required.  This was probably a good
thing as Harry had a feeling the dull throbbing in his temple meant his
brain ached as well.
Nearing his destination, Harry pulled out the small, neatly folded
piece of parchment Dumbledore had given him to pass on to the Potions Master. 
“If you should see him, Harry.  No need to go out of your way,
it is not urgent.”  Harry smiled to himself.  He was usually
quite pleased for an excuse to descend into the dungeons, for some unfathomable
reason.
He was just a corridor away now.  His nose coulll hll him that
as much as anything – he could smell the sharp scent of Dragon’s blood
mixed with ground rosemary flowers.  It was not this however, that
made Harry pause.  He could hear something strange and unfamiliar. 
It sounded like voices but with a musical quality.  Harry frowned.
'No, he couldn’t be!'
Harry slipped silently up the final corridor and risked a glance
around the doorframe.  It was, indeed, music.  le mle music at
that.  Harry slipped into the room, smiling widely but made no sound
as he watched the most feared teacher at Hogwarts sing softly along to
a piece of classical music, in German no less, whilst he stirred his potion.
“Wem de grosse, Wurf gelungen,” 'Not a bad voice,' Harry thought,
leaning against the door jam, “Eines Freundes Freund zu sein… Do stop dithering
in the doorway, Potter.  If you are going to come in then come in.”
Harry almost jumped, then shook himself ment.&nb.  Of course
Snape knew he was there, he had a Sixth Sense when it came to people being
in his dungeons.
“Is this…?”
“’Ode to Joy’.  Beethoven’s Ninth, the choral symphony, performed
by the Chor und Orchester der Bayreuther Festspiele and conducted by Furtwängler. 
A rather good recording of it, actually,”  Snape glanced up at Harry
briefly, "Not, I suspect, that that means anything to you."  The Head
of Slytherin did not continue singing, but hummed along to the tune, inclining
his head at intervals when a cymbal crashed as though he were conducting
the orchestra in his head.
If Harry had had this scene described to him when he was in his first
year, he would have laughed until his stomach hurt and he couldn’t breathe
any more.  The reality, however, was actually quite in character for
Snape.  The music seemed to fit him quite well and while obviously
taking pleasure in it, he refused to smile or show it in his features.
“I didn’t know you spoke German.”
“Which just goes to prove Potter, that you are not omnipotent,” Snape
lay down the ladle he was using on the workbench before turning around
and wiping his hands on a rather grimy-looking hand towel.  “Of course
I speak German.  Half of the Death Eaters, having been educated at
Durmstrang, speak nothing but and I would be rather useless in Austria
if I only spoke English, would I not?”
“Aus?”&n?”  Harry frowned.
“Yes Potter, Austria.  It is a small country adjoined to Germany,
famous for its mountains, its yodelling and a ridiculous Muggle film called
‘The Sound of Music’.”  Snape gave Harry a calculating look before
seating himself behind hisk.&sk.  “It is also incidentally, where
I will be spending Christmas.  Voldemort’s orders.  I suspect
that is what Dumbledore’s letter concerns.”
Harry looked down at the folded piece of parchment and handed it
to Snape.  He took it, unfolded it and read it quickly.
“Anything fun?”  Harry regretted the words as soon as they left
his lips.  He regretted them even more when Snape looked at him as
though he had just asked ‘Are you a blue-spotted mongoose?’
“Strange as it may seem Potter, I find very little about Voldemort
or the war in general to be ‘fun’,” Snape sighed, and dropped the note
onto his desk.  “It is simply about contacting Dumbledore and the
Order while I am away.  Nothing particularly important.”
“You might not call that important but I’m sure there’s more than
one of us who would consider making sure you’re still breathing reasonably
important!”
Snape raised an eyebrow at him with some amusement.  “Careful
there, Potter.  You'll be professing your undying love for me soon.”
Harry’s eyes widened only slightly, before he turned abruptly and
stared at the potion Snape had been brewing.  It was smoking gently
so he couldn’t quite see its colour, but he knew the smell.  It was
Lupin’s Wolfsbane potion.
Harry turned back around when he felt that his face had cooled off
again.  Snape had leant his head back against the chalkboard and closed
his eyes, still muttering the words to the song under his breath.
“So tell me,” Harry ventured to break the silence between them, “How
would you say ‘My name is Harry Potter and I am the supreme cool person
of the Universe’ in German?”
Snape raised his eyebrow but did not otherwise move.  Harry
perched on Snape’s desk, leaning back with his weight braced on his hands. 
The Potions Master sighed, perhaps in resignation, perhaps in something
else and said, “Ich heiße Harry Potter und ich bin einen Dummkopf,
den seinem Lehrer nich in Ruhe lässt”
Harry looked slightly suspicious.  "Is that really how you say
it?"
Snape just smirked and said, "You shall have to find out, Potter."
*****
August 25th, 2006
Tap tap tap!
Harry was pulled from his revery by a brisk knocking on the door. 
He looked around him quickly, getting his barings before saying, “Come
in.”
The wooden door opened and Hermione walked into his office, smiling
rather falsely.
“Hello, Hermione.”
“Hi Harry.”
“To what do I owe this pleasure?”  Harry removed his feet from
the desk-top after a pointed look from Hermione and sat up straight, putting
on his ‘work’ face.
“It’s about the trial,” Harry didn’t need to put on his ‘work’ face
any more.  That sentence snapped him back to the present.  He
nodded at Hermione to continue.  “You know how I said you wouldn’t
have to declare yourself as Snape’s acting Defence until the opening hearing?”
“Yes, I remember how you said that.”  Harry said warily.
“Well, there’s been a slight … change of events.  Ludo Bagman hanged
himself in his cell last night, Harry.”
Harry’s eyebrows hit the roof.  “He did what?  Hanged
himself?  But he was supposed to be the next man called to trial!”
Hermione nodded and waited for a break in this speech.  “I know
Harry, and Snape was going to be after him.  Well, things have changed
now.  Snape’s hearing will be in two days.”  Hermione stared
straight down at the desk top, determined not to look at Harry’s face. 
“That means we – you – have two days to tell Snape that you’re representing
him, find witnesses who will agree to testify for him, get them to write
ants nts and check over them – I can do t I s I suppose – and write your
opening speech.”
Harry let his face fall into his hands, only peeking up at Hermione
through his fingers.  “’Mione,” he mumbled, but was interrupted.
“Please Harry, let me finish.  So far as all that is concerned,
I’ve gotten together a list of people who might help.  Those most
likely are at the top.  Suffice to say Sirius is at the bottom,” 
Hermione heard a short, somewhat hysterical giggle slip from between Harry’s
fingers but continued, “You have to contact them though, by owl or in person. 
At a push, by fire.  Do that as quickly as you can.  Then get
yourself over to Azkaban, because that’s something else that has to be
done by now.  With the change in trial dates the MLE will have sent
someone over to tell him that he’s got representation, so he’ll be expecting
you.”
Harry groaned and shook his head, before looking up at the girl before
him.  “I can’t do this, Hermione.”
Hermione’s brisk manner softened, and she walked around the table, laying
a hand gently on his shoulder.  “Yes you can Harry, because you must. 
If you don’t no one else will.  He’s depending on you.  We all
are.”
*****
Azkaban was not a pleasant place for the nicest of people.  It
was full of screams of pain, both physical and mental.  Walking in,
he had seen people who had pulled out their own hair and shredded their
own faces at the torment of having their guilt forced upon them and multiplied.
Severus Snape however, was not a nice person.  He had rarely been
a nice person and, should he ever leave Azkaban, would probably not change
into a nice person.  Therefore Azkaban was living torture for him. 
He dared not close his eyes for the images emblazoned on the lids and sounds
which rang in his ears, screamed around him and through his head.
Clang!
He turned his head to the side slowly, wondering if this was another
torture device from his mind.  He frowned.  It was a bloody strange
one if it was.  Perhaps he had gone mad.
“Severus Aquila Snape, I am authorised to take you from this place to
a holding cell at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for the duration
of your trial.  Will you come peaceably or must I sedate you?”
Snape sat up with some effort and looked blankly at the MLE official,
dressed in suit-robes, wand out and pointed towards him.  “I shall
come peaceably,” he muttered softly before standing.  “But you have
made an error.  It is too soon for my trial, I have at least another
week.”
The MLE official took Snape’s arm and turned him, muttering a spell
to bind his arms behind his back.  “Your luck’s in, then.  There's
been a change of plan.  The trials from here on take place a week
early.”
“But I have no representation…”
“That’s what you think.  You mean no one’s told you?”  The
MLE talked in a conversational tone, even as he held Snape firmly by the
arm and escorted him down the bar-lined corridors.  “Someone stepped
forward to represent you.  Seemed quite eager about it, actually.”
Snape felt a dawning dread that had nothing to do with the passing Dementors. 
“Who?”
“You’ll never believe it – Harry Potter!”  The MLE grinned at him
excitedly, seeming to forget for a moment that Snape was a suspected convict. 
“It’s going to be a good one, this.  There’ll plenty of media attention…”
“Potter?  They are allowing a barely post-adolescent fool of a
boy with no head for logic or reason to head my defence?”  The MLE
nodded rather enthusiastically.  Snape looked around him at the grey
stone walls and rusty bars of Azkaban, and muttered dryly under his breath,
“I wonder if they’ll let me put up curtains after the first ten years…”

***
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