The Wizengamot vs. Barlowe | Invite

Monday, January 16, 1922
The Wizengamot Courtroom
9:00 AM

There would be no theatrics today. No harking back and forth for hours, endlessly stipulating cut-and-dry evidence that anyone with a working brain could decipher.

When James had first been assigned to facilitate Barlowe's case, he hadn't thought much about it. At the time, he knew him of course, Maddox being his sister's closest friend. The man had occasionally attended Laurence family gatherings over the years with his children, and had become a familiar face. He figured he'd follow the law, and let the chips fall where they may. The professor had a strong case for excessive force and there was nothing in the file that had made James concerned that Barlowe wouldn't see acquittal.

Of course things had changed, and so James Laurence had decided to pivot. There was no way on Merlin's earth he was going to watch as the Wizengamot sentenced a man - who had protected children more than once now to James's witness - to a life amongst the dementors based on a technicality of using an Unforgiveable.

What was unforgiveable was a madman like Thayer being allowed to torture children. His type were the most condemnable, and there was nothing redeemable about them. Those that hurt children deserved to die, and in his view, Barlowe had done nothing wrong.

Besides, it was Merrow the man had his eyes set on.

As the body was called to order, James took his place at the podium, waiting for his colleagues to be seated around him. It wasn't the first trial he led and certainly wouldn't be his last. But it would likely be the most important.

This had to go his way.

“My name is James Laurence, and I shall preside over these proceedings. Before we begin, a courtesy to the room; you will refrain from speaking out of turn. Once the doors are closed, they will remain so until this matter is concluded. No one enters. No one leaves."

He paused for a moment, to ensure his words were understood. "Wands are to remain unused unless expressly permitted for the presentation of evidence by the prosecution, the defence, or by me. The ruling issued at the conclusion of these proceedings will be immediate and will stand.”

His eyes finally raised to the man standing before them. It was more now than just a promise not to forget. It was his sister's future on the line, and that of her child. Although anyone outside of the immediate families were unaware of the impending connection, it tolled like a bell within James's mind.

The Laurences protected their own, no matter the cost.

"Maddox Barlowe," James said evenly, his voice carrying across the vaulted room, "You stand accused of Murder in the Second Degree under Magical Statute 347.C and Unlawful Use of an Unforgiveable under Magical Statute 201.A."

"You stand accused of Murder in the Second Degree under Magical Statute 347.C and Unlawful Use of an Unforgiveable under Magical Statute 201.A."

So he was.

For a while, it had been easy for Maddox to ignore – even forget – the pending charges against him. With all the noise of his daily life, a morning spent in a courtroom over in London was hardly the thing that kept him up at night. There was a baby coming, a new house that he and Julia were trying to close on, preparations to legalise their union, and small instances of shopping – Evander's third birthday was coming up and the anniversary of Lynn's death loomed. The latter never failed to have an impact in some way on his daughter, and all he could do was try to be there.

He needed to be there.

Add to that the lessons he was still hosting and his job tending the grounds, and it was a wonder the man remembered what day it was.

But he did remember.

Maddox stood before the Wizengamot council with their red robes and difficult-to-read expressions. Which way the morning would go, he couldn't say. All he had was the truth and a desire to not to be snatched away from his children. The man wasn't naive. He was well aware that there was a scenario that might find him unable to give a final goodbye to either of his children or Julia. If convicted, he would immediately be taken out to that chunk of rock in the North Sea with soul suckers for company and screams of either agony or mania for stimulation.

It was an outcome he'd rather avoid.

He met James's gaze, his own unreadable if not a bit fatigued. Maddox had never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, even in the most dire of situations. There was a coolness to his demeanour, a chill that ran deep. He would be lying if he said he wasn't rattled, but trembling had never been for him.

Beside him, his barrister stood. Grace Prichard. She was a fiery thing, with a smart mouth and a hunger in her eyes to prove herself. Fairly new to the profession, she'd contacted him when the news first broke, insisting she be the one to represent him. Maddox wasn't the sort to gamble his future on a rookie, but there had been a raw passion in the way she'd pitched him. Without agreeing to any aid, she offered him free consultations and explained to him the plan she would employ should she be chosen.

She could win, she said. She knew she could. She only needed a chance. Even that hadn't been enough to convince him, not with his future teetering on the brink of gloom and isolation, but she wore him down with letters containing statutes, documents, strategies, reviews of previous trials and their breakdowns. It became obvious to him that she wasn't a simple girl who wanted a shiny win under her belt but a young woman hoping to carve out her place with the competence to do so.

Grace stood stiffly by his side. It wasn't her first trial by any means, but it was the first that could be considered 'high profile'. The woman wasn't quite nervous, but without looking at her, he could tell that she was also feeling the gravity of the situation.

It was too late to change his mind now. Maddox could only hope that her skills didn't end at deep research.

Wedding ring a quiet weight on her finger, Harper found her usual spot among the Wizengamot members facing today's accused -- Maddox Barlowe. The man she had shared an equally agitated drink with, at a bar she had visited on accident rather than intent. What a twist of events.

She had recognized him the instant she'd first seen his face in the papers, right next to the others standing accused in the incident that had rattled the whole of wizarding Britain.

Quite curious how life worked, wasn't it? She never thought she'd see his face again and here they were.

Much like he continued to appear in the Daily Prophet, his expression suggested an indifferent lethargy, unbefitting the severity of the accusations brought before him. Either it was an unshakable confidence in acquittal -- Harper's gaze flitted towards James for a brief moment -- or he simply couldn't care less. Though that belied the increased efforts of persuasion she had been instructed to make use of -- quite curtly. Quite unusually.

Harper hadn't questioned.

Regarding Barlowe did make her thoughtful for a moment. What had to happen to a man to make him so indifferent to the possible, if not likely, outcome of spending the rest of his life in Askaban? Or had he just been born like this?

Whatever it was, Harper hoped it'd move things in his favour. Despite the subtle pull of strings, outcomes were never guaranteed.

Especially in the face of accusations as severe as murder and use the of the Killing Curse.

Her own thoughts on the matter mirrored those felt for Blackwood's trial. Good riddance, one more traitor dealt with in the most cleanest of ways, erasing a disease that had almost cost them everything. Thayer had deserved no less, not only for the kidnapping and torturing of children -- Harper had a hard time caring for that -- but definitely for the perfidious plan of allowing muggles into a world they had no right to even know of.

Unfortunately not all saw it this clearly and demanded 'justice' where it had already been served. Any true wizard and witch that aligned with the true values of their magical society could see it as such.

On to the third of four trials. Bertram would be happy when all this was behind them. Thankfully, he wasn’t facilitating this trial, or the next. The weight of their job was enough, but being the one holding the gavel was difficult.

Walking into the chambers, a place he was very familiar with at this point, Bertram found his spot amongst those wearing the deep red robes. Making himself comfortable, ready for another long day of witnesses and testimony.

At this point, he felt like they had a pretty good grasp of the events that led up to the incident in the Dark Tower. With each new bit of information, Bram became more angry at the outcome. Not Thayer's death, but the permanent damage done to Everleigh, his youngest granddaughter. She was worse than ever coming back from Christmas break: the nightmares, erratic behavior, fits or anxiety and rage, panic attacks and mumblings. It was heartbreaking.

The last of the members entered the chamber allowing the doors to close and the trial to begin. “My name is James Laurence, and I shall preside over these proceedings. Before we begin, a courtesy to the room; you will refrain from speaking out of turn. Once the doors are closed, they will remain so until this matter is concluded. No one enters. No one leaves."

As the facilitator began detailing the rules of the day Bertram sighed. Their job today was easy: listen to the testimony, the witnesses and the evidence. Deliberate and come to a verdict. The practice was easy, something he had done hundreds of times, but knowing that a person’s life hung in the balance. A life filled with family and friends, it became much more difficult.

A hush fell over the room as James shifted the papers, reading over the trial docket quickly. Only two witnesses this time, Blackwood and Maevie Golding. Easy enough to preside over and if he managed to keep his time efficient and to the facts, this whole affair could be over shortly.

He didn't doubt that while Barlowe kept an outer appearance of calm, the man had to be feeling some sort of apprehension. Who wouldn't? The threat of Azkaban and a life spent amongst the creatures that fed on souls was a daunting prospective. Add in the reality that he'd be taken from his children, and James didn't know how someone couldn't be nervous.

His influence and money were powerful, but they only went so far and only worked on so many people.

Personal feelings aside, it was a serious charge - worse than both Blackwood and Haswell had faced, only trumped by the treason and conspiracy charges Merrow was accused of. If anyone could look at this case and see murder where there was clear defense of a child...well James couldn't very well think for them.

“Honoured members of the Wizengamot, we are assembled to examine the conduct of Professor Maddox Barlowe in relation to the Dark Tower incident of March 12, 1921. This inquiry concerns a single determination: whether, once it became clear that three students were being held hostage, his actions fell within the standard of judgment expected of a wizard entrusted with authority."

He straightened his back. He would remain professional - as though he were a man dedicated to the law of the land, first and foremost.

"The prosecution alleges that Professor Maddox Barlowe, in the course of responding to the Dark Tower crisis on said date, deliberately and intentionally cast the Killing Curse upon Arthur Thayer, without Ministry directive, resulting in his immediate death. This is not disputed."

He took a slight breath before continuing.

"As in the previous trials, you will hear testimony that Thayer had subjected three minors to Imperius and Cruciatus. You will hear that one of those children was being physically restrained when Professor Barlowe intervened. You will hear that the confrontation escalated and that lethal force was employed in a matter of seconds."

He gave the body a moment to let the words settle.

“The matter before you is therefore not whether a death occurred, nor whether an Unforgiveable was used. The determination The Wizengamot is asked to make is narrower. It must consider whether, at the moment the fatal curse was cast, the circumstances met the statutory threshold for criminal liability. The law does not demand perfection. It demands accountability. Your responsibility is to review the facts of the case and apply the law to it as it stands.”

A final pause as James's eyes rose once more to meet those of Maddox's. The facilitator's expression remained calm and unmoving. Not a flicker of bias one way or another.

"Maddox Barlowe, to these charges, how do you plead?"

How did he plead?

"Not guilty."

It went without saying that Maddox Alexander Barlowe wasn't trying to go to Azkaban. The rumours of the place were enough to leave him certain he preferred to be a free man. Add to that his responsibilities as a father and soon-to-be husband, and it wasn't a stretch to say that getting imprisoned would be an exceedingly inconvenient outcome for the trial.

Julia had told him not to worry. She'd been adamant that things would work themselves out, and he was inclined to believe her. That didn't erase his worry. Maddox had found himself in many a sticky situation after leaving England. It wasn't bureaucratic and didn't involve the law so much as active danger and narrow escapes. He had learned to navigate such situations with ease, never flinching from the prospect of getting hurt.

All this, the higher-ups in their fancy offices, presiding over a case that shouldn't exist? He was a fish out of water and would like to be removed from it all.

Briefly, his eyes met Grace's. She said she knew what she was doing. It was too late for it to not be true.

---

It was time.

Grace rose steadily to her feet, meeting each member of the Wizengamot with steel resolve. She'd sought the man out; she'd asked for a shot. Mr. Barlowe could've had his pick of barristers, all salivating over a day in court with press like this. The Daily Prophet's printing press had been running hot, and their audience was panting over each verdict delivered. One innocent, one guilty and her client the third to be tried. With one in each corner, it was harder to say where the chips would lie.

There was a lot riding on the results, not only for the Hogwarts professor but also for herself. Three trials, and she was the only woman. To lose would be to prove every man she'd ever fought against correct. They didn't think she belonged and didn't think she could hold her own. It was 1922, and they still believed a woman's place was in the home. A defeat would be crushing. She had to remain focused. Grace had practised her defence for hours on the previous evening and on the way to work. She was as prepared as she would ever be and needed to remember that.

The woman was up to the task, and she would see it done.

"Distinguished members of the Wizengamot, specially invited members of the press, good morning. I stand before you today in defence of a man who should never have been put on trial in the first place." She moved around the desk she shared with Mr. Barlowe to take her place on the floor.

"Mr. Laurence is right; there are elements in the case that are not up for debate. Hogwarts was infiltrated. Mr. Thayer took three students hostage in the school's dark tower while his accomplice attempted the same on a larger scale in the great hall. When students were harmed, decisive action was taken. An unforgivable was used; you'll find no one disputing that."

Though she'd certainly have tried if she thought she could get away with it. Reasonable doubt was all that was needed, nothing more, nothing concrete, just reasonable doubt. Unfortunately, everyone had sung like canaries, and they'd all named her client as the one who'd cast the spell.

"Deliberate. Intentional. Necessary. However you wish to define my client, they do not change the facts of the case. He saved the lives of three terrified little girls who endured a great deal before he and the others arrived.

But I'm not here to argue emotion and sentiment. It's easy to say that something felt right and that you would do the same in a moment of raw chivalry and bravado. Our interest is in what the law says, and you will find that, here, the law is on Mr. Barlowe's side."

The man satisfied the requirements necessary, and she would see him vindicated.

"So what does the law say? In one term, 'self-defence'. I'll remind you that the law allows for the legal use of force in order to protect oneself or others from imminent harm or death. Mr. Barlowe's life and well-being weren't under imminent threat, but the lives and well-being of the students were – most notably, Miss Elliot. You've all heard the testimony, and you'll hear more of it today. When Mr. Barlowe entered that tower, Thayer had Miss Ravenstone hanging out the window and Miss Elliot under the cruciatus curse. That isn't 'imminent' harm, it was harm that had already been done. Mr. Barlowe did not speculate on whether students might need his help; he witnessed the very act.

To satisfy the condition of 'self-defence', one only needs to reasonably believe there is an immediate danger of death or serious injury. Reasonable belief. We can all agree it is reasonable to believe that a student under the cruciatus curse is in immediate danger of severe harm. In order to disprove this claim, the burden falls on you to prove – beyond a reasonable doubt, for that is the standard – that Mr. Barlowe did not truly believe the girls were in danger." A thing they would find difficult given the mounting evidence that proved active harm.

"I daresay any individual who walked into the room would have come to the same conclusion, that the girls were, without question, in danger. This is not a case of second-degree murder. You will find that my client adequately satisfies the criteria for self-defence, remembering that it does not only apply to the individual but can be extended to those they wish to save."

Of course, there was a second charge. Unlawful use of an unforgivable. It was murkier waters.

"If you'll follow me, we'll address the second charge. Unlawful use of an unforgivable. We've already established that it was done; again, you'll find no dispute, but we cannot pretend there is no precedence for the use of such curses. The ministry does not hand out forms or badges that grant preemptive permission for the use of unforgivables. Its usage is not deemed 'unlawful' until after a court decides its use was not permissible, making these charges a little...forward. We have yet to decide whether Mr. Barlowe's use of the killing curse could be considered reasonable or necessary for the circumstance. That has always been the way of the court. One does not gain permission before – as you can't always predict when such things will be needed – but forgiveness after.

I do not ask you to forgive because my client was overzealous and forgot himself, but because Mr. Barlowe answered Thayer with equal force. Let us review the clause of self-defence once more. It permits the use of reasonable force. Simply put, the action taken must be proportional to the harm levied. Mr. Barlowe didn't escalate; Mr. Thayer did. He brought an unforgivable to the fight – using it on a student, no less. An unforgivable does not share the same calibre as a disarming charm or a summoning spell. The effects of the cruciatus curse are well documented and devastating. Prolonged usage has been shown to lead to permanent mental instability in victims. Mr. Barlowe answered in kind as was his right under the law, whether you agree with it or not. The law permits the matching of force to neutralise harm in the face of imminent, serious injury, and what could be more serious than Miss Elliot spending the rest of her life in the psych ward of St. Mungo's? What could rival the pain that seared through her at the hands of this torturous spell? Mr. Barlowe knew the answer to those questions, and he did what he needed to – what the law has always allowed individuals in his position to do. How then can we say the use of the unforgivable was 'unlawful'?"

Grace took a deep breath, relieved she was nearing the end of her opening remarks. Somewhere throughout her delivery, she'd stopped shaking, but she could still feel tiny tendrils of anxiety trying to claw their way to the fore.

"Some of you may not agree with Mr. Barlowe's actions. Some of you are in full support. The truth? Neither matters; only what the law says. You are obligated, without bias, to consider his actions under our constitution. When you place his actions against the evaluation of the law, you will find that he never misstepped; he's squarely in line."

Another deep breath.

"Thank you."

"Not guilty."

A surprise to no one. It seemed pedantic, didn't it? Asking an obvious question for a person on trial. Had the accused believed themselves guilty, none of the body would be here, but James supposed formalities were what they were.

There was a place for all of it.

As Maddox's barrister stepped forward, James sat back in his chair, studying her mildly. As opposed to many of his peers, the man had never found fault in a woman that commanded power and her place in the world. For those who dared to shed the traditional expectations of a woman's place, he held a measure of respect, understanding that they had to work three times as hard to prove themselves.

James was no feminist, but his sister was one such woman, often his most valuable ally when the serpents were at his door.

"I daresay any individual who walked into the room would have come to the same conclusion, that the girls were, without question, in danger. This is not a case of second-degree murder. You will find that my client adequately satisfies the criteria for self-defence, remembering that it does not only apply to the individual but can be extended to those they wish to save."

She was a tough one, that much was indisputable. She made solid arguments, ones that would be difficult to look past, but during examination, he would give the illusion of trying.

James glanced briefly to Harper, catching her eye for a moment before turning his attention back to Ms. Prichard. Harper had been told how this one needed to go - perhaps more curtly than previous conversations they'd had - but he had no doubt she'd do her part and ensure that those whose ears she had would do the same.

"Thank you, Ms. Prichard," his even response came when she was finished. It was at this point he was allowed to dispute any of her arguments or play harder for the prosecution, but he certainly had no interest in doing so. They would move the proceedings right along.

"The Wizengamot calls its first witness. Maevie Golding, please step to the middle of the room and have a seat."

When the girl was seated, James posed the first question. "Miss Golding, prior to the events in the Dark Tower, what was your relationship with Professor Barlowe like? How did you get on with him as a professor?" He waited a moment before continuing, "When he arrived in that tower, it is said you were attacking Professor Thayer. Please tell us, as you remember the events, what happened from that moment forward."

Anyone surprised by the Not Guilty plea was an idiot.

Grace Prichard was a wise choice. Many defendants didn’t do their due diligence when it came to their lawyers. Ruby was a perfect example. It was important to find a person that would fight for their client, stand strong against the opposition.

Listening to her speak brought a smile to Bram’s face. He had seen her try a case in the past and he always walked away impressed with her ability to away the Wizengamot. Barlowe was in good hands.

Of all the people standing trial, Bram was most indebted to Barlowe. He was the one that saw Everleigh and pulled her from the window. He would be forever grateful.

Watching little Maevie walk in pulled at Bram’s heart. She was whole, alive, bright. She might be a little nervous, rightfully so, but she was coherent enough to give testimony. Everleigh was not in the same state. Although Bram had a suspicion that the events of the tower were not the only thing contributing to her current state.

As the questions started Bram smiled at Maevie. Hoping to put her at ease.

"Hello Maevie. Thank you for being here today. From your vantage point, after Blackwood pulled you off of Thayer, did it seem as though Arthur Thayer was so dangerous in that specific moment that no other spell, no stunning spell, no disarming charm, would have worked?"

These trials were truly a BORE. And four of them. FOUR? It was obvious what needed to be done. Who was to blame. Was she the only one seeing it?

The Barlowe fellah seemed alright. Nice enough. Not that she KNEW him, but she knew him. Bernie was a fabulous judge of character. The tick of an ear, the twitch of the eyes, the way the pupils would dilate when a question was asked. You could lie, or try to, but the body would always give you away.

Helping students find their wands was a talent. A gift. Reading them, their movements and body language could tell a person more than their words. Like the Grace person. Bernie had made up her mind the second she stepped up to talk, ‘this is one of the good ones.’

Now, what GOOD meant was subjective. Good at being a solicitor? Good at lying? Good at making tapioca pudding? Maybe one, maybe all three.

Hmmm. Now she wanted pudding.

As the time came to question the darling girl. One of HER kids. Walking out of Elder & Ash with a Bernadette Hawthorn wand, made her heart swell and her smile grow. She was also one of the good ones, but her list of good was too long to count.

Questions were asked, but not wanting to be missed Bernie stood and raised her hand. "Oh! Oh! Over here! Sorry, yes, Bernadette Hawthorn, hello everyone, lovely hats today, really."

Bernie leaned forward, her hazel eyes locked onto Maevie with unsettling intensity, while her hand absently reached up to pat a rustling Clyde under her headpiece. Silly Bowtruckle.

"Maevie, dear, I’ve been watching your hands. Fascinating things, hands. Did you know that the human grip strength is theoretically enough to crush a lemon, yet we rarely use it? But your knuckles... oh, they've been white as powdered deer antler for the last ten minutes."

Bernie’s eyes were wide and fixed on Maevie, trying to convey a softened nature, but coming across more crazed than normal.. She ignores the disgruntled murmurs from the older wizards, she hated the smell of moth balls and these people SMELLED.

Calming her voice Bernie smiled at Maevie, showing more teeth than was necessary.

"When Mr. Barlowe used that curse... most people here want to talk about the legality of it. But I know that kind of magic. It’s loud. Not in the ears, but in the bones. It feels like a door slamming shut forever." Bernie shivered at the thought.

"Maevie, sweet pea... when that green light filled the room, did you feel like the fear and stress holding you down finally let go? I want to know if that magic, the unforgivable curse cast by Professor Barlowe, in that moment that Thayer dropped dead like a bag of dung beetles, did you feel safe, did you feel rescued?”

Her head was tilted now, looking at Maevie, but her eyes flipping over to the Maddox character to see how he was reacting as well. Back and forth. Nope, she didn’t look crazy at all.

Barlowe pleaded not guilty and Ms Prichard took the stage.

A big case for someone so unknown. Harper hadn't heard of the woman before word had gotten out that she'd be the one representing Barlowe, not one of the big players in the game. An unusual choice. Typically it was the seasoned men of law standing in this courtroom, years and years of high profile success under their belt, strutting with confidence and oily with arrogance.

But there were a lot of young, untested barristers out there eager for a chance to prove themselves. This woman no doubt was one of them. Putting his faith in the hands of that could be risky but then again they'd all seen what a bad choice Mr. Crowe of the last trial had been.

And as the woman continued with her opening statement, Harper found her argumentation quite enjoyable to watch. She clearly knew how to use the law to her advantage and that she did. It eased the tension Harper had carried into the room with her. A good defence would make hers and James' job to keep this man out of prison a whole lot easier.

Besides, what a joy to see another woman be unapologetically better than many men.

Harper caught James' glance and hid the delighted glint from her eyes, expression remaining blank. Her work of inconspicuous nudging had begun weeks before the actual trial itself. He needn't worry. The influence she possessed had been enough to plant reasonable consideration to vote in Barlowe's favour prior to today. The help of a barrister who knew to do her job right would do the rest.

The first witness was called in and immediately question began to rain. Harper chimed in after a moment. "Miss Golding, after the adults arrived, did Thayer pause his attack at any point long enough that someone could have safely evacuated you three from the immediate danger he posed or did the danger continue without any break until Professor Barlowe’s spell ended it?"

Maevie's nerves fluttered like a million jittery dragonflies, all trapped in her stomach and chest. They had begun to swarm since Professor Byrne had taken her to London this morning from Hogwarts, almost gentle at first. They had briefly calmed in her mother's embrace, and then they'd multiplied every passing minute since their arrival at the ministry.

She'd never been here before and despite her fascination with everything and everyone they'd passed, the fact she felt like throwing up overshadowed that hundredfold.

Waiting outside the doors to the courtroom was terror, no matter how many sweet treats Professors Blackwood and Byrne tried to soothe her with. The sugar might have only made it worse.

Regardless, she accepted all of it.

When her name was finally called, Maevie's knees were pudding and her brain goo. Immediately, a million eyes landed on her, boring through her skin and straight into her soul, setting the swarm of dragonflies buzzing. Nervous hands tightly grasped the folds of her skirt as she made her way in, her heartbeat a drum in her ears.

"Erm...hullo," she quietly greeted the room, a tentative smile flickering over her lips. She didn't know where to look, the onslaught of impressions and faces and emotions making her reel on the inside, face heating.

The facilitator spoke to her though and her gaze fixed on him.

"Miss Golding, prior to the events in the Dark Tower, what was your relationship with Professor Barlowe like? How did you get on with him as a professor?"

Oh. That was easy. Forgetting some of her nervousness, Maevie's expression lost some of the tension. "Great!", she insisted, nodding enthusiastically. "He is a great professor and has taught me a lot before...well. Yeah. He's really clever and he always helps me when I need it. He looks a bit grumpy but he's actually really nice!" She nodded another time, casting a glance to where the man sat.

"When he arrived in that tower, it is said you were attacking Professor Thayer. Please tell us, as you remember the events, what happened from that moment forward."

The judge man drew her attention back to himself and the brief moment of lightheartedness faded. Thinking back on those events did this every time. She cleared her throat, letting the events replay behind her inner eye, gaze drifted away to some speck of dirt on the ground she didn't see. "I was pulled away from Thayer, behind Professor Blackwood. The professors told Thayer to stop but he didn't. He just started sending spell after spell at everyone and the others fought back. When Professor Barlowe...cast, it all stopped though."

This time, she didn't dare look at her professor. The room felt heavier suddenly, the seriousness of the charges and the past events retuned to weigh on the air she breathed. Flickers danced behind her eyes, interrupted only when another voice fractured the silence.

"Hello Maevie. Thank you for being here today. From your vantage point, after Blackwood pulled you off of Thayer, did it seem as though Arthur Thayer was so dangerous in that specific moment that no other spell, no stunning spell, no disarming charm, would have worked?"

Maevie found the man's face in the sea of red, fixing on him next so that the past wouldn't swallow her whole. "I...erm, think so?" She shifted uncomfortably, white-knuckled grip almost painful. "He was very quick and very skilled. He sent the Minister into the air. I saw him dangling from his ankle, he even lost his wand. So, I think Thayer was very dangerous if he managed that, right?"

To a young, naïve girl like Maevie, besting the minister was something akin to defeating a humanoid god. He was the minister! The most powerful wizard in the country! That's how he became minister after all, wasn't it?

The woman that spoke up next rendered her completely speechless. Where Maevie had been stiff before, she was entirely frozen now. Bernadette Hawthorn might just be the most unsettling thing that could have happened today. Piercing, wild gaze boring into hers, Maevie subconsciously leaned back in her chair.

Lemons...? Deer antlers. Maevie's mouth opened and closed like a fish caught out of water, lost for words.

"Maevie, sweet pea... when that green light filled the room, did you feel like the fear and stress holding you down finally let go? I want to know if that magic, the unforgivable curse cast by Professor Barlowe, in that moment that Thayer dropped dead like a bag of dung beetles, did you feel safe, did you feel rescued?”

It took a moment for her to regain the ability to speak. "Y--. Ye-- yes," she finally managed, unable to detach herself from the woman's insane smile. "When-- when Professor Barlowe's...curse hit, everything stopped. All the spells and the screaming and-- and the danger. I was...glad...about that." It felt wrong and right at the same time. Killing another human being was so far out of her world, something so ungraspable, even despite having witnessed it first hand. The concept felt wrong.

Thayer though...

Maevie supressed the rush of guilt before the thought had fully formed.

"Miss Golding, after the adults arrived, did Thayer pause his attack at any point long enough that someone could have safely evacuated you three from the immediate danger he posed or did the danger continue without any break until Professor Barlowe’s spell ended it?"

Another woman's question gracefully managed to rip her gaze away. Maevie shook her head, her voice a muted, wobbly mess. "No. Thayer started to attack almost immediately, he attacked every professor without hesitance. There was no time."

She didn't have any more words than that, the clump in her throat had started to grow thicker and thicker.

James listened quietly, nodding along as Maevie regaled them with all the details of that night. Nothing the girl said was new or revolutionary or cast any doubt - in his opinion - on whether or not Barlowe had made the right move.

The Minister was lackluster and had been weak in a moment that required strength. The girls were lucky there had been others willing to take up the helm in his place.

Briefly, his eyes cast to Miss Hawthorne, a newcomer on the Wizengamot and one who didn't seem to recognize where she was or the seriousness of the matter at hand.

"Miss Hawthorne, you'll remember yourself," he said curtly, the firmness in his voice indicating she'd be better off keeping her theatrics to herself. "This is a court of law, not a comedy club." With little else, he turned back to Maevie offering her a small smile. "Thank you Miss Golding. You may step out."

He sighed slightly, sitting back in his chair and waved towards the door. "The Wizengamot calls its next witness. Gideon Blackwood, please step to the middle of the room and have a seat."

Blackwood would be the key here, in both Barlowe's and Merrow's trials. If all went to plan, things should transpire exactly as he wanted.

Harper almost managed to feel something akin to sympathy for the girl.

None of this should have happened and yet here they sat. Despite her inability to feel true compassion for the victims, her outrage at the events as a whole was honest enough.

Namely because it affected her personally — or would have, had Thayer and Farrow been successful.

The ludicrousness of these muggle sympathisers and their plan of inclusion and exposure still managed to boil her blood. It had threatened everything wizards had worked for these past couple centuries — muggles had no place in their world and for a good reason.

While Harper believed all those with magic in their blood, regardless of their status, had an equal right to practicing and belonged to their community as a useful member, there was no such tolerance for muggles. They were inferior and despisable.

Thanks to Barlowe, at least one of them had been dealt with in the only appropriate way, and thankfully Golding's answers would be working in his favour as well.

It was Blackwood's turn next.

"Mr. Blackwood," Harper addressed the man when he had settled in, "as a retired soldier yourself and as someone present during the rescue, in your opinion, was the Killing Curse a reasonable choice in saving the girls? Did the likes of Thayer require such extreme measures?"

Harper anticipated the answer to that. Since Blackwood's acquittal, achieved to the thanks of no small amount of work from James and herself, the man was under James' thumb. If the professor's own personal opinion on the matter wasn't enough, that bit of pressure surely helped.

"Miss Hawthorne, you'll remember yourself," Bernie looked at the facilitator with a gaze of wonder. How very kind of him, to remind her, but worry not! She had never once forgotten herself and she wouldn’t start today. "This is a court of law, not a comedy club."

Well that was bloody obvious. It was a very depressing room indeed.

"Gideon! Hello! You’re looking... well.” He wasn’t looking well. He looked annoyed and honestly exhausted. Not that she could blame the fellow. Having to testify in the trials, as well as working in the castle with the increased security, it was a lot. She assumed. But she was right, obviously.

She leans over the railing, her hazel eyes squinting as if she’s trying to see Gideon’s soul, or perhaps just a loose thread on his jacket. Not that there was one, he dressed with impeccable precision.

"You were right there in the thick of it, weren't you? Close enough to smell the salt and the damp and the... well, the wrongness of that tower.” Bernie shivered at the thought. “Most people describe a 'feeling' in a room, but I prefer the facts of the matter. Magic leaves a physical wake, like a boat on a pond."

It was true, you could ‘feel’ a space.

"My question for you, Gideon, Deputy, Deputy Gideon, is about the vibration. When Barlowe let that curse fly. That big, green, final goodbye. Did the air in the tower feel like it was breaking apart, or did it feel like it was finally settling back to rightness? I want to know if the curse felt like a crime against nature, or if the nature of that tower was so twisted that the curse actually felt... right?"

Many people were too narrowminded. Far too consumed with the facts to read the feelings all around them, but not Bernie. She could read the room and the person with fascinating accuracy. As a wand maker, it was imperative.

Bertram was proud of Maevie. Answering questions as the panel of adults literally looked down on you, was daunting, but she did it with grace.

Listening to the others ask their questions, Bram had to keep his laughter under control as the Wand Maker took her turn. She was an interesting one. Fabulous at making intricate and rare wands, but it seemed she was one fork shy of a full set.

Watching Maevie leave, Bram let a sigh of relief escape. Once again happy that Everleigh wouldn’t be called. It would be a nightmare and put her through undue stress. That being said, she would show just how life altering that night was for the people involved.

When Gideon walked in, dressed to impress in his suit as always, Bram smiled, happy that the man was still walking free in the world. He didn’t deserve to be imprisoned for the crimes and ineptitude of others. Much the same as Maddox Barlowe.

Once the floor was opened for questions, his colleagues began their inquiries. Hawthorne once again adding a bit of insanity to the proceedings.

"Deputy Blackwood, we have heard a lot about the night in the tower. In your professional opinion as a wizard who saw combat in the war, was Arthur Thayer's stance that of a man who intended to surrender, or a man who was moments away from completing a murder-suicide?"

Gideon held a knowledge that not many did in this chamber. As a military man, he had been trained to assess situations, act fast and for the greater good. He could judge a heated situation and react in seconds. Bram trusted his judgement and his thoughts on the matter.

"And finally, for the record: Did you see a man who wanted to kill a colleague, or did you see a man who was willing to risk his own life and career to ensure those three girls walked out of that tower alive?"

Once again, he was back at the Ministry. Thankfully, in this instance, he was a lot more comfortable with the proceedings. His life was not hanging in the balance. That being said, Maddox Barlowe’s was.

It was clear what he had to do. The man did not deserve Azkaban for saving the three students kidnapped and tortured. He stepped up and did what needed to be done. Sitting in the witness chair, a spot he was becoming more and more comfortable with, Gideon unbuttoned his suit jacket to get more comfortable. His eyes scanned the assembled members, recognizing most.

The way the chamber had been designed was brilliant. The members of the Wizenganot were all wearing blood red robes and hats, sitting in raised seats, looking down on the accused and the witnesses. It gave those being questioned a sense of foreboding. All those inquisitive, untrusting eyes, staring you down.

Thankfully, today, he was just a witness. He would do everything in his power to never be on trial in this chamber again.

"Mr. Blackwood, as a retired soldier yourself and as someone present during the rescue, in your opinion, was the Killing Curse a reasonable choice in saving the girls? Did the likes of Thayer require such extreme measures?"

Gideon didn’t enjoy looking back on his time in the military. It was filled with pain, death, destruction, depression. It was not a time he wanted to remember, but reverting back to that soldier was second nature. The training pounded into him from the moment he put on the uniform.

“Mrs Campbell. The Killing Curse wasn't just a reasonable choice in that moment, it was the only certain one. Anything less left a margin for error that those girls would have paid for with their lives."

His job in this trial was clear. It had been explained in no uncertain terms. Thankfully, this wasn’t a stretch, Gideon believed every word he was saying. As the next person started to speak, Gideon’s eyebrows lifted. The woman trying to get her words out was an interesting character indeed.

"My question for you, Gideon, Deputy, Deputy Gideon, is about the vibration.” What the fuck now? Vibrations? Gideon repositioned in his seat, controlling the eye roll that was on the verge of escaping.

“When Barlowe let that curse fly. That big, green, final goodbye.” Oh for the love... Was she serious? “Did the air in the tower feel like it was breaking apart, or did it feel like it was finally settling back to rightness? I want to know if the curse felt like a crime against nature, or if the nature of that tower was so twisted that the curse actually felt... right?"

Gideon didn’t immediately answer. As the question settled in his mind he realized what she meant and how it actually made sense. The air in the tower had changed. Charged and angry. Hot, thick and wrong. Then, when Thayer lay dead on the stone floor the rightness took over. It was over, he was dead, the girls were safe and things felt safe.

"Miss Hawthorne, you asked about the air in that tower, it’s hard to describe. It didn't feel like it was breaking apart when the curse was cast. It felt... punctured. Like a pressurized chamber was finally able to vent. When we arrived, the air was charged with anger and fear. You could feel it, like a humid blanket. The 'wrongness' wasn't the green light from the spell cast. The wrongness was the sound of children sobbing while a madman held a wand to their throats. When the curse hit, it didn't feel like a crime against nature. It felt like a resolution."

The woman was batshit crazy, but her question did make him think. She wasn’t wrong in her line of questioning. The way everything changed in that moment, when Maddox sent the killing curse, it was automatic. The room went still, quiet for a beat. It was a moment he would never forget.

The questions kept coming. Some were more simple than others. Asking for the facts of the case. Where people stood, what people said, why they did this or that. It was all what he expected when he took the seat in front of the sea of red bodies.

"Deputy Blackwood,” The voice of Bertram Nordstrom filled the chamber. Gideon turned his eyes to the man, giving him his full attention.

“We have heard a lot about the night in the tower. In your professional opinion as a wizard who saw combat in the war, was Arthur Thayer's stance that of a man who intended to surrender, or a man who was moments away from completing a murder-suicide?"

Another interesting question. One that was not asked in his trial, so he took a minute to think back to that night. The events were burned into his brain.

"Mr. Nordstrom, regarding the war. I have seen men surrender. They drop their shoulders, their eyes dart for an exit, their wands tremble. Arthur Thayer did none of that. His stance was rigid, his focus absolute. He wasn't looking for a way out, he was looking for a way to finish. This was most evident in his attempted casting of Bombarda Maxima. He wasn’t looking to surrender, he was looking for an opportunity to inflict the most damage and devastation possible.”

Nordstrom continued with a follow up question, more specific to Maddox and his motives. This was something Gideon couldn’t assume, but he could answer with what he saw.

"And finally, for the record: Did you see a man who wanted to kill a colleague, or did you see a man who was willing to risk his own life and career to ensure those three girls walked out of that tower alive?"

Gideon’s eyes strayed from Nordstrom, moving to find Maddox with his lawyer. He let the silence drag on for a beat as he arranged the words in his head. His eyes fell back to Bertram, the look on his face somber and determined.

"I was a soldier for many years. In that time, I saw many unspeakable acts. I know the difference between a man who kills for enjoyment, and a man who kills because it is required to save others.” Gideon said, his voice carrying clearly to the back of the chamber.

"Maddox Barlowe didn't look at Arthur Thayer with the joy or potential murder. He looked at those girls with a desperation that I will never forget.."

Gideon leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady.

"For the record: I did not see a man committing a murder. I saw a man making the ultimate sacrifice. He took the stain of that curse onto his soul so that those girls wouldn't have to carry the trauma of watching their friends die. He didn't have the look of a murderer, the look that screamed death. He wanted the same thing that I wanted,” Gideon was very careful to not lump Ruby and Wylder into that statement.

“Above all else, to save those girls. We went up to that tower to save and protect. If that is a crime, then I fear we have forgotten what it means to be a protector."

"Miss Hawthorn," James interjected before Blackwood could answer her question, "You've already been warned. Another ridiculous outburst and you'll be held in contempt." There was no edge to his voice or exasperation. Rather, the man was curt and polite, even as his eyes darkened in her direction. If the silly woman couldn't control herself and have some decorum, he'd see to it she wasn't just dismissed from this case, but from the Wizengamot entirely.

He returned his attention to Blackwood, listening intently to his answers. It was better than they had discussed, and maybe some of his answers came from a genuine place. It was no matter whether it was or wasn't. Gideon made a compelling case for Barlowe having taken the actions that he did, and with a slight glance around the room, James hoped the others were coming to the same conclusions.

The ones that had been paid off better had anyway.

"Thank you Mister Blackwood," James said evenly, dismissing the man with a nod of his head.

A quick glance at his watch. Another few hours and they should be done here.

"The Wizengamot will now hear from the accused. All those with questions for Maddox Barlowe will submit them before the body now."

"The Wizengamot will now hear from the accused. All those with questions for Maddox Barlowe will submit them before the body now."

We were getting to the end of the testimony, which Bram was thankful for. There were trials that demanded a lot of attention, witnesses, evidence, debate. This was not that trial. As the third one in a set of four, the evidence had been poured over, the witnesses had the same things to say. There was no question about IF he had cast the spell, which made this trial more about the why.

Bertram waited for his chance, then rose to ask his question. “Mr. Barlowe. You are a seasoned Professor. You know a dozen different ways to disarm or disable a man. Tell this court, why, in that specific situation, was every other spell in your arsenal a greater risk than the one you chose?"

In the end, Bram was glad Thayer was dead. It would have been nice for him to suffer more. Live with the dementors in Azkaban, have his soul sucked out and have his body wither away to nothing. But the knowledge that the man who tortured and kidnapped his granddaughter was gone of this earth, filled him with a sense of peace. Azkaban would have been a good alternative, but he was much happier with the man 6 feet under.

Maddox had heard many things about Ruby's trial: the way they'd buried her in legalities and how unflattering the witness testimonies had been. They hadn't held back, out for blood and someone to blame for the events that had transpired within the castle. It was another of those things that he couldn't say he wasn't worried about, neutral as his expression remained, but he found himself able to relax by the smallest degree as things went on.

His trial wasn't another funeral with all the formalities waiting to be put in place, and everyone who'd spoken seemed of the same mind that his actions hadn't been a power grab or any attempt to skirt the law but a desperate attempt to put an end to a man who wasn't about escalating.

The very idea of the former was laughable.

What started out as a prayer was starting to feel less like a hopeless case and more like he'd be walking away a free man.

Maddox wouldn't go counting his chickens before they hatched, but he did release some of the tension that had been building up inside his muscles.

It was his turn to take the stand. The man wasn't too concerned about the questions. He only had the truth, and so far, the truth had been doing its job. Rather than worrying himself about contorting tales to seem more palatable, Maddox chose to keep the avenues as straight and clear as possible to remove any ambiguity in the end.

“Mr. Barlowe. You are a seasoned Professor. You know a dozen different ways to disarm or disable a man. Tell this court, why, in that specific situation, was every other spell in your arsenal a greater risk than the one you chose?"

"Thayer is...I suppose was, a resourceful and sharp man. He was lucid in the middle of the chaos, single-minded and ready with backup plans. He wasn't a man who would be stopped the moment his wand was taken. Were that the case, Ruby's relashio would have been the end of things. Instead, he pivoted." He rolled his shoulders in a small, non-committal shrug. "Say we did disarm him. He still had the wands of all three girls at his disposal. It wouldn't have taken any time for him to reach for one of those and continue casting – worse, he'd be provoked and had already shown a clear pattern of escalation. There was only one shot to put an end to the terror and only one spell that would've removed the risk of delayed retribution on an even larger scale. Frankly," he leaned forward. "Even without a wand, Elliot's a small girl. I don't mean to be crude, but it wouldn't have taken anything for him to snap her neck, no wand needed. "

He eased back again.

"On a more human level, it was a high-stakes situation. The girls were in real danger. Unforgivables had already been thrown around. It wasn't my charms classroom, where we could pause a moment and take turns analysing the threat to see what spell might be most useful. There was no telling what Thayer's next spell would be, but his wand was already pressed to Elliot's neck, and he made it clear he wouldn't be taken alive. I wasn't worried about disarming or disabling and keeping things neat. My brain defaulted to the swiftest means of neutralising the threat before further harm could be done. It's easy to say, in hindsight, that I could have done this or that. We could map several scenarios in the calm of the courtroom with 20/20 hindsight vision, and it would all be so clear, but it wasn't clear back then. The only thing that mattered was stopping the man who'd already shown scant regard for human life."

He sat with the docket open before him, fingertips resting along the edge of the parchment as though keeping the record anchored. The chamber had gone quiet again. “Thank you, you may step down,” he nodded to Maddox at the end of his questioning. The man had been direct, lacking in show and drama - exactly what this body needed. Logic and facts. Not emotions or running on tension. That was what had gotten Haswell convicted, no doubt and James was glad he wouldn’t have to say the same for Maddox.

It seemed that way, anyway.

When he spoke again, it was unhurried. He straightened the papers once, aligned them with practiced precision, and leaned closer to the podium.

“Honored members of the Wizengamot,” he began, voice devoid of inflection and sounding nearly bored with it all, “you have now heard from the witnesses and from the accused. The record is complete.”

He glanced down at the docket.

“Professor Maddox Barlowe stands accused of Murder in the Second Degree under Magical Statute 347.C and Unlawful Use of an Unforgiveable under Magical Statute 201.A.”

A pause, to allow his congregates a moment to reflect.

“It is established that Arthur Thayer died as the result of Avada Kedavra cast by Professor Barlowe. That is not a matter requiring deliberation. The question before you is whether, under the circumstances as they existed in that tower, those actions meet the statutory threshold for criminal liability.”

James lifted his eyes to the body, letting them settle across the semicircle.

“You have heard testimony that there was no pause in Thayer’s assault once the adults arrived. You have heard that he had already used Unforgiveable Curses on minors. You have heard that he was capable of continuing without hesitation, even when deprived of advantage.”

It was simple. Cut and dry. Thayer had threatened the lives of not only the girls in the tower but everyone in that castle, including his sister, nephew and cousin. No one in Hogwarts had been safe that night from the cult’s lunacy.

“You have also heard the argument that alternatives might have existed. Disarming, stunning, extraction. You may consider those possibilities. But you must consider them as the law requires. Not as options imagined in the calm of this chamber, but as options available in the seconds described by those present.”

He turned a page. Paper sounded louder than it should have in the stillness. Remaining seemingly unbiased while trying to lightly nudge those who may have been straddling the line between conviction and acquittal, was a delicate dance. The man could only hope he was doing it well.

“Second-Degree Murder requires that the prosecution establish more than outcome. It must establish that the elements of Statute 347.C are satisfied under the facts as they occurred. Unlawful Use of an Unforgiveable requires you to determine whether Statute 201.A applies in full in the circumstances described, or whether the evidence supports that the act fell within lawful exception.”

James rested one hand on the podium.

“This court is not convened to decide whether you approve of the spell chosen. It is convened to decide whether the prosecution has met its burden to prove that, in that moment, the law demanded a different choice.”

His gaze moved once, slow, across the benches.

“Deliberate on what is proven. Deliberate on what is required. Deliberate on what the law actually permits when faced with immediate and continuing threat.”

He sat back from the podium, expression unchanged.

“Then render your verdict.”

James dropped his gaze from the body, training it instead on the fiery woman Barlowe had hired for his lawyer. He waved her on without flourish, as though the conclusion were inevitable.

In his mind, it was.