Chapter Text
Curled up on a hard bench in an Azkaban cell, her Muggle jeans and Weird Sisters t-shirt doing nothing to keep out the cold of the dementors, Cassiopeia Black—who vastly preferred to be known as Cass or Padfoot—had only three rotating thoughts in her mind.
First, she was innocent.
Second, Rose Lupin was not going to take the blame for that slaughtered street.
Third, Honesty Potter was going to need her godmother.
These statements, to which Cass clung like holy writ during those hours and days in Azkaban, gave her the ability to stay stable despite the agony the dementors wrought on her. Even through every memory of her abusive, bigoted family, and the images of dead friends springing up before her eyes, Cass kept her head, repeating again and again those three thoughts. Not happy thoughts, but they lit a flame inside her, which refused to go out.
And so, when the door to Cass's cell finally opened and Alma Dumbledore stepped in, Cass had not drifted away in muttering, and was not screaming in her sleep, but instead sat up and pushed her short spiky hair, which was on the edge of too long, out of her eyes. She watched Dumbledore, praying that her old headmistress and leader of the Order had brought, at the very least, answers.
Dumbledore shut the cell door and observed Cass, those blue eyes—at this moment, grave—seeming to X-ray her as they X-rayed everyone. Cass could not tell what conclusion she had drawn, if any, but after a moment, Dumbledore said, "Your trial is scheduled for next week."
Cass sat up straight, painful hope flaring in her. "So—I am going to have a trial? Ms. Crouch isn't just going to throw me in here forever?"
"She might still," Dumbledore said quietly, "but yes, you are going to have a trial."
"How did that happen?" Cass knew enough about politics to see that Bethany Crouch was popular enough, just now, to get away with almost anything she wanted, and what Ms. Crouch wanted was every potential Death Eater imprisoned or worse—possible innocence be damned.
Dumbledore sat down across from Cass, on the cell's second hard bench. "Well. Rose Lupin is convinced you're innocent, and that's worth something." Oh, Rose. You deserved so much better from me. "Mostly, I can't make Ms. Crouch do much, not on this topic, but she knows her politics better than anyone, and I suggested that she wouldn't earn herself any favors from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, as your family calls themselves, if she handed one of their daughters over to the dementors with no trial."
Cass snorted. "My mother blasted me off our family tree. Literally. They don't care for me a drop."
"I would suggest not telling Ms. Crouch that," Dumbledore replied. "At least, not until after your trial."
Well, if her family's pureblood prestige got Cass out of trouble instead of into it for once, she wasn't going to complain. "What did Rose tell you?"
"I am interested in hearing what you will tell me first," Dumbledore said, her eyes more piercing than ever. "Rose generally has good judgment, but we can't pretend she has no bias. I cannot help you if you do not tell me the truth, so I would advise you to do so."
Even if the truth had not been in her favor, Cass would have known better than to lie. Even without Legilimency, Dumbledore had always had a keen ability to tell truth from falsehood. The only reason their Animagi scheme had survived over the years was that Dumbledore had not thought to interrogated them on such a topic. "They switched Secret-Keepers."
Rarely was Alma Dumbledore surprised, but Cass saw it on her now. "Jasmine and Luke?"
"Yes." Cass hunched over. "But…but it was my idea. I—" She swallowed. "I as good as killed them. If I'd just stayed their Secret-Keeper, they'd be alive right now."
"And who did you switch to?"
Cass suspected Dumbledore knew the answer, but wanted to see what Cass would say. "Wormtail. Petra." She spat the name. Petra's betrayal was like salt in the wound of Jasmine and Luke's deaths; Cass had avoided thinking about it too much, in case it left her vulnerable to the dementors. Now she couldn't help it. "It was a bluff. I mean, that's what I wanted it to be. I thought, Voldemort will go after me; I'm Jasmine's best friend. Or…I was." Tears stung her eyes. Apparently she hadn't cried herself out yet. "But then Petra betrayed them."
"Did anyone else know about this?" Dumbledore asked. "Anyone who could testify at your trial?"
"No," Cass said miserably. "We were all so worried about a spy. I didn't even tell Rose." Because she'd been afraid Rose was the spy. She should have known better. The sheer idea was ridiculous.
"Do you have any idea where Petra might be now?" Dumbledore said.
"Probably down in the sewer with the other rats," Cass said bitterly. "We'll never find her now."
"What?"
Oh. She'd just spilled the Animagi secret, at least in part. Well, maybe it was better to have it out, if telling the truth got Dumbledore on her side. "Petra's an Animagus. A rat. That's why we called her Wormtail."
She could practically see the gears whirling in Dumbledore's mind. "And I don't suppose your other nicknames had anything to do with Animagi forms?"
Cass nodded reluctantly. "We never registered, but yes. I'm a dog. Padfoot. Jasmine is a stag. Was a stag. Prongs."
"That would explain certain Patronus forms," Dumbledore said with a half-smile. "I would advise you to keep this to yourself for now. If you are cleared, then register as soon as you can."
Although Cass would prefer that her disguise not be known by authorities, she didn't see much choice but to nod. Dumbledore continued. "As Petra was not registered, we have only your word. And Rose's?"
"Yes."
"We have only the word of you two that Petra is an Animagus, and I'm afraid that won't do. Besides, if what you say is true, we have little hope of finding her now. Which is a pity, since you're being charged with her murder. The charge is that you cursed her into pieces—all anyone can find is a finger."
"She cut it off herself," Cass said. "I saw her." She paused. "What else am I being charged with?" Better to know the worst.
"With the murder of twelve Muggles in that street."
"Twelve?" Cass said, aghast. "I knew people died, but—twelve? I'm going to kill Wormtail—"
"Cass," Dumbledore interrupted, "that is exactly the kind of statement that will lead you to the Dementor's Kiss. If what you say is true, I understand why you're upset, but you need to keep yourself under control."
Cass had never been very good at that, but the threat of the Dementor's Kiss made her swallow the fury that was trying to emerge. "Sorry," she said, low.
Dumbledore observed her in silence for several moments. Cass tried to pull herself together. "I didn't do it," she whispered. "Please help me. I need to be there for Honesty."
After another minute of silence, during which Cass came closer to praying than she ever had, Dumbledore said, "Alright. I'm not convinced yet, but I'll certainly try and find out more. I already asked the Ministry to halt the Memory Charms on possible witnesses until I talked to you, and they agreed—you're lucky Amador Bones is in charge of that. It's not likely anyone got a good look, but it's worth finding out. As Chief Warlock, there are also some pieces of evidence I can ask to see, but they require your signature first."
"What evidence?" Cass said, feeling scared and lost. If only she'd paid attention during one of Rose's lectures on trials and courts. If only she'd talked to Rose before trying to curse Petra to smithereens.
Rose, I'm so sorry.
"The Aurors confiscated your wand," Dumbledore said. "We can use Priori Incantatem to view the spells you cast most recently. For a criminal trial, that requires a signature from you. It won't look good that you were trying to curse Petra, but if you didn't use anything that would blow up the street, that's in your favor. Did you use Avada Kedavra?"
No, she hadn't. Even in her rage, Cass wouldn't have gone so far as to use an Unforgivable. The instinct to avoid her heritage, to not be what her parents and sister and cousins had become, held too strong. She'd almost used Snape's curse—Sectumsempra—but just when the thought had occurred to her, Rose had yelled at them both to stop, or she'd never forgive them.
That had snapped Cass out of her vengeful fury. She could not bear the idea of giving Rose a reason to hate her. She'd almost lost Rose once, after she sent Snape past the Whomping Willow for a joke—an action she'd quickly discovered was not in the least amusing to Rose, to Jasmine, or to their headmistress. Rose hadn't talked to her for that whole summer, and it had nearly broken Cass's heart. And that had been when they were sixteen and at Hogwarts and under the delusion that they couldn't die. Now they were twenty-one, Jasmine was dead and Petra was a traitor, and Cass would not lose her last friend.
The one she loved in ways she hadn't understood, not until she'd been in Azkaban for days and realized what it meant that she always conjured Patronuses with memories of Rose's lips and laughter. That, when conjured, her Patronus always took the form of a wolf, just as Jasmine's and Luke's had been matching stags.
"I didn't use Avada Kedavra. I didn't use any Unforgivables."
"Well, that's one thing you did right," Dumbledore said. "The other piece of evidence is your testimony under Veritaserum, if you agree to take it. Are you willing to do that?"
Cass did not like the idea of all the secrets that could come bubbling out of her mouth under Veritaserum, but for the chance of being there for Honesty, of getting to see Rose again, she would do far more than that. "Yes," she said, voice steady. "I am."
Dumbledore glanced around the walls of the cell. "I'll warn you, dementors tend to sap people of any power they might have to fight back against Veritaserum. No matter how strong you are, you won't be able to lie about what happened by the time of your trial. You're sure?"
"I'm sure," Cass said flatly. "I didn't betray my friends, I didn't blow up that street, and I'm not going to break my word to Jasmine."
She forced herself not to squirm under Dumbledore's gaze. If she didn't have Dumbledore's help, she had no chance of getting through this trial. Dumbledore finally stood. "Very well. I'll have the Wizengamot aides send you those papers, and I'll see what witnesses I can find. But you have to keep yourself together. You are in a great deal of danger right now, and I may not be able to get you out of it. If you want to keep your word to Jasmine, take my advice: don't lose your temper." And with that, she was gone, the cell door clanging shut behind her.
Cass took a shuddering breath. Alright, Jasmine. Alright, Honesty. Alright, Rose. I am going to get through this. For your sakes.
She held the images of the people she loved in her mind all through the next week, dreaming of Jasmine's mischief and ardent love, and Honesty's tiny hands and giggles, and Rose's fierce eyes and tenderness. She only snapped out of it long enough to sign the sets of papers the Wizengamot aide sent. Tears came frequently, but tears were better than rage, when rage could be her undoing.
And finally, two Aurors arrived to escort Cass to her trial.
The older one, she only knew by reputation—Ruth Scrimgeour, grizzled and grim. The younger, she had known at Hogwarts. Kingsley Shacklebolt had ruined more than one Marauder prank, though Cass had to admit that those pranks had usually been the meaner ones. And she respected Kingsley, who was nonbinary, for the queer student group they led—and for the utter calm they possessed and spread, which Cass would very much have liked right now.
Neither Auror spoke to Cass on their way to the Ministry. Cass was quite sure she was catching disgusted looks from Scrimgeour, who obviously did not believe in her innocence. Kingsley, on the other hand, gave none of their feelings away. At one point in her life, Cass would have tried to joke with the Aurors, even to goad them, but that impulse had died on her third day in Azkaban. She was going to do whatever she had to do, to keep from provoking the people who might have a say in her innocence or lack thereof.
She was just lucky she was getting a trial at all. She was just lucky she wasn't a werewolf, and that the Wizengamot might believe the truth. And she was vastly relieved that whoever was in charge had allowed her to be guarded by humans, and not dementors. She knew that wasn't always the case.
Every step through the Ministry made Cass more agonizingly nervous. Calm. The less guilty you can look, the better. Remember Jasmine. Remember Honesty. Remember Rose. Envisioning her loved ones loosened the band of fear around her ribcage just slightly, and she stood straighter, her breath evening out a bit.
And into Courtroom Ten they went.
Only sheer force of will kept Cass's eyes up when she saw the Wizengamot arrayed in judgment. Don't look down. You have nothing to hide. Just to do something besides look at the witches and wizards as a whole, she searched for faces she knew. Dumbledore, thank God. And she thought that was Cornelia Fudge—some kind of Ministry official? A couple people she recognized as friends of her parents, another two as Hogwarts governors. She glanced over to where the spectators were allowed to view the scene, and just kept herself from flinching.
Because behind that barricade were far too many people she knew. Alan Longbottom, Fairuz Flitwick, Stella Podmore, Emmett Vance, Arlene Weasley, and—Cass's stomach lurched horribly—Rick Skeeter and Sylvia Snape, both of whom looked more like delighted vultures than anything else. Just torture me outright and be done with it.
"Cassiopeia Black," said a clear and cool voice. Cass jerked around to meet Bethany Crouch's eyes. "Take your seat."
Willing her knees not to give out, Cass sat in the chair and folded her hands so they wouldn't shake. The chains on the arms clinked, but otherwise did not move. They'd probably left her unbound so she could take the Veritaserum. She was grateful for that much.
Ms. Crouch continued, still in that cold voice. "You are called here to answer for the alleged crimes of murdering Petra Pettigrew and twelve Muggles by your own hand, and of murdering Jasmine Potter and Luke Evans by betraying their location to She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I understand you claim to be innocent of all these crimes."
"Yes," Cass said, her voice echoing unpleasantly in the courtroom. "I didn't do any of that."
"We will see." Ms. Crouch turned to a square-jawed man with short grey hair and a monocle that Cass didn't know. "Mr. Bones, I understand Ms. Black has consented to take Veritaserum. Is the paperwork in order?"
"It is," said the man. Amador Bones, it must be. "I have arranged for Potions Master Dawud Al-Hashim to administer the Veritaserum. We may go forward with it now."
Ms. Crouch gave a small nod, and a wizard whom Cass had missed, far in the back, came forward with a bottle of absolutely clear liquid in his hand. "I will be able to tell if you do not drink all of this." Despite the warning in the words, his voice was gentle. "You should be prepared for the effects. Most people find them quite unpleasant, but they will recede as soon as I administer the antidote, which I have right here. In my experience, it takes about twenty minutes, and only rarely more than thirty, for courts to get the information they need from a person under Veritaserum."
"Get on with it, Al-Hashim," Ms. Crouch said impatiently.
The Potions Master raised his eyebrows. "You will get a better testimony if the defendant is prepared for the potion, Ms. Crouch," he said mildly, then took the cork out of the bottle and offered it to Cass.
Cass envisioned Rose's warm eyes to keep her hands from shaking, and carefully took the bottle. She took a breath and drank all of it in one gulp.
Master Al-Hashim had to grab the bottle to keep Cass from dropping it on the floor, because quite unpleasant was a vast understatement. Every single thought vanished from her head. All she had time to think was that this felt far too much like the Imperius Curse, and then even that thought disappeared, leaving a terrifying blankness.
Ms. Crouch's voice pierced that empty landscape. "Did you kill Petra Pettigrew?"
"No." The word left Cass's mouth without any intent of hers; it felt as if it had been yanked out of her with pliers.
"Did you cast the curse that blew up the street and killed the twelve Muggles?"
"No," Cass repeated.
"Did you cast any spell intended to harm anyone that day?"
"Yes." Cass had expected the question, and had already decided not to try and lie, which was good, because under the circumstances, she didn't have a choice.
"What spells, and whom did you mean to harm?" Ms. Crouch's voice was quite freezing now.
"I don't remember everything," Cass croaked. "I was so angry. I tried to Stun her. And used Reducto. I don't remember anything else. It was Petra Pettigrew."
"Why?"
Yet more tears stung Cass's eyes. "Because she was the Secret-Keeper. For Jasmine and Luke and Honesty. And she betrayed them."
Even in her strange blank state, Cass could hear the Wizengamot stirring and whispering. "Tell us how this came to be," Ms. Crouch ordered.
The story ripped its way out of Cass, details she'd never wanted to revisit. By the time she was done, she was really crying. Ms. Crouch threw more questions at her, seemingly intent upon turning the scenario inside out and upside down, and several other members of the Wizengamot had inquiries of their own. Answer after answer tore their way out of Cass, until she felt ready to collapse into the chained chair and let it tie her up. She had no idea how long it went on; she could tell Ms. Crouch and some of the others were attempting every angle they could to find some flaw in her story, but she had nothing new to tell them, not when the Veritaserum had dragged all the truth out of her the first time.
Mr. Bones finally broke in. "Bethany, that's enough. Now she's just repeating herself, and so are you."
"I want justice done for these crimes." Ms. Crouch sounded as if she were gritting her teeth.
"So do I, but you're not going to get any more information out of Ms. Black," Mr. Bones replied calmly. "Not this way. And unless I'm much mistaken, Veritaserum can be somewhat agonizing. Am I right, Master Al-Hashim?"
"That is correct," Master Al-Hashim replied.
Somewhat agonizing. Cass would have laughed if the situation had been the least bit funny to her.
"Ms. Black has also been under the potion's influence for forty minutes at this point," Master Al-Hashim added, "and most experts consider anything above forty-five to be inhumane."
"I don't imagine the Wizengamot is interested in torturing defendants," Mr. Bones said. "Not when we can't prove it to be necessary. We have the information we need. Let's move on."
"Very well," Ms. Crouch replied, clearly on edge. "Master Al-Hashim, administer the antidote."
Cass, who couldn't have held a bottle if her life depended on it, just managed to open her mouth enough to let Master Al-Hashim get the antidote in. The terrible blankness blew away, as if some wind had swept over her mind, and she slumped over in the chair, tears still leaking from her eyes. With her thinking restored, she felt sick with anger. The Veritaserum had forced her to tell them the whole truth; they hadn't needed to go at it from five angles when she'd told them everything she knew already.
Dumbledore rose. "We have two witnesses to the scene in the street, and—"
"Witnesses?" Ms. Crouch interrupted sharply. "Alma, you didn't tell me—"
"I think Ms. Black would prefer it if the Wizengamot received the testimony of the witnesses without being previously biased," Dumbledore said. "And as you have said you wish for justice, I know you will respect such a fair wish."
Ms. Crouch didn't look at all as if she wanted to respect said wish, but she said nothing, and a moment later, an aide beckoned in a man Cass had never seen before, and who looked at least as nervous as she felt.
"What is your name?" Mr. Bones asked, after several seconds had gone by without Ms. Crouch saying anything.
"Aramis Figg," the man said, his voice quivering a little.
"Very well," Mr. Bones said, his voice far more gentle than Ms. Crouch's had been at any point since Cass came in. "Where were you at eight o'clock in the morning on this past November first?"
"Opening up my cat shelter," Mr. Figg said, his voice a little stronger. "I own a cat shelter on Block Street—"
The woman Cass thought was Cornelia Fudge suddenly interrupted. "Are you a Muggle? We didn't get any paperwork filed to allow an Aramis Figg to testify before your Memory Charm."
Dumbledore cleared her throat. "Mr. Figg is a Squib. No Memory Charm will be required."
Mr. Bones shot Ms. Fudge a mildly-reprimanding look and turned back to Mr. Figg. "Did you see anyone in this courtroom at that place and time? If so, please point to them."
"Yes," Mr. Figg replied, and pointed at Cass, who tried not to fidget. "Ms. Black. Right there."
"Please describe her actions to the best of your ability," Mr. Bones said.
"I saw her through my front window," Mr. Figg said. "She was with two other women. One of them was tall, with brown skin, and long dark brown curly hair. I didn't know her name then, but I've met her now—she's Rose Lupin. The other woman was very short, and white, with blond hair. Mx. Shacklebolt says…" He looked at Kingsley.
Kingsley stepped forward. "Mr. Figg volunteered his memory for our Pensieve, in hopes of identifying the other woman. I and two other Aurors identified her as Petra Pettigrew, as well as confirming that the other two present were indeed Ms. Lupin and Ms. Black."
"Thank you," Mr. Bones said. "Mr. Figg, continue, please."
"Ms. Pettigrew was crying," Mr. Figg said. "She yelled, Jasmine! Luke! How could you! Ms. Black was throwing spells at Ms. Pettigrew. I don't know what spells they were; she was too fast. Ms. Lupin was blocking all the spells. She shouted, If you don't both stop right now and put your wands away, I'll never forgive you. That was when Ms. Black stopped throwing spells, and she had a second, and then she put her wand away."
Again the Wizengamot whispered and stirred. Cass hoped, upon hearing the truth from somebody besides her, they would be fully convinced. Mr. Figg continued. "Then Ms. Pettigrew did something with her wand. I couldn't tell what. I think the spell was nonverbal. But right after that, her hand started bleeding. A lot."
"A moment," said one of the Wizengamot that Cass didn't know. "You are quite sure it was Ms. Pettigrew who made her own hand bleed? It was not a spell from Ms. Black or Ms. Lupin?"
"Ms. Black had already put her wand away," Mr. Figg said firmly. "And Ms. Lupin wasn't looking at Ms. Pettigrew then. She was looking at Ms. Black."
"Alright," said the Wizengamot member. "Please go on."
"Then I saw—" Mr. Figg's voice quivered. "Ms. Pettigrew cast some kind of curse behind her back. I don't know what kind it was. But right after she cast it, there was an explosion. My window shattered, and I ducked, and my cats all ran to the back of the shop. I hid in the back for a long time, but I finally crawled back, to try and get a look. There were corpses. Everywhere. Ms. Pettigrew and Ms. Lupin were gone, and Ms. Black was on her knees—I couldn't tell if she were laughing or crying. And the Aurors were there, and they took her away."
There was a moment of silence, and then the Wizengamot began peppering Mr. Figg with questions. His voice frequently shook, but to Cass's huge relief, his story did not change, despite Ms. Crouch's intense cross-examination.
"Alright," Ms. Crouch finally said. "You may go for now."
The aide showed a grateful-looking Mr. Figg out, and showed Rose Lupin in.
Cass felt her whole body tighten, and just managed to school her face to some semblance of calm. Most people here would not know that Rose was a werewolf, and so would have no reason to treat her badly, but if it somehow came out, and the revelation were Cass's fault…
Why did I go after Wormtail? Why didn't I just think?
Mr. Bones took over the examination again. "Your name, please?"
"Rose Lupin," Rose replied, her voice absolutely steady. Maybe facing her transformations every month made the Wizengamot seem less terrifying.
"Very well, Ms. Lupin. Where were you at eight o'clock in the morning on this past November first?"
Rose told her side of the story in an unwavering voice, strong as if roots were fastening her to the floor. Cass had never loved her more than now, and had simultaneously never been more terrified for her. If somebody here decided that Rose had cast the curse that killed those Muggles, and put her on trial, and her werewolf status became public knowledge…Cass would rather spend her life in Azkaban than have that happen. But she couldn't control how this turned out.
The Wizengamot interrogated Rose for even longer than they'd interrogated Mr. Figg, but Rose didn't falter even for a second. But then—
"How do we know you didn't cast that curse?" Ms. Fudge said. "You still had your wand out. Mr. Figg saw you through his window."
"I didn't cast the curse." For the first time, Cass heard repressed anger in Rose's voice.
"Can you offer any proof of that?" Ms. Crouch asked.
Mr. Bones cut in. "This is Ms. Black's trial. Ms. Lupin has not been charged with anything."
Dumbledore spoke up. "We anticipated that somebody might ask Ms. Lupin this. She has signed paperwork to allow Priori Incantatem on her wand, just as Ms. Black has."
"Then we should see that," Mr. Bones said. "And there is one more wand to examine. Mx. Shacklebolt found it at the scene of the crime. We cannot know for sure whose it is, but we have invited Gardenia Ollivander here today to identify, at least, to whom she sold it." He nodded at an aide, who left the courtroom and came back a moment later with Ms. Ollivander.
"Identification first," Ms. Crouch declared. "Mx. Shacklebolt, please produce the wand you found at the crime scene."
Kingsley took out a wand and handed it to Ms. Ollivander, who examined it carefully. "Chestnut and dragon heartstring, nine-and-a-quarter inches, brittle. I sold this wand to Petra Pettigrew."
There were more mutterings amongst the Wizengamot. An aide brought forth two wands that Cass recognized as hers and Rose's. Ms. Ollivander picked up Rose's and gave it a careful looking-over. "Cypress and phoenix feather, eleven inches, springy. This is the wand of Rose Lupin." She picked up Cass's wand, examined it, and nodded. "Ebony and dragon heartstring, thirteen inches, flexible. This wand belongs to Cassiopeia Black."
"Thank you, Ms. Ollivander," Mr. Bones said. "Mx. Shacklebolt, if you will start with ebony wand?"
Kingsley took Cass's wand and touched the tip of it to their own wand. "Priori Incantatem."
Cass tried not to wince as evidence of curse after curse flew out of her wand. She hadn't remembered casting quite so many. Finally, Kingsley said, "Those are all the spells cast since Halloween."
"The cypress wand, then," Ms. Crouch said stiffly.
It was a relief to see evidence of all the strong Shield Charms that Rose had thrown between Cass and Petra. If nothing else, the Wizengamot now had evidence that Rose had done everything she could to stop the disaster. Finally, Ms. Crouch instructed Kingsley to move on to the chestnut wand. Cass tried to breathe.
"Priori Incantatem."
It was unmistakable. The chestnut wand—Wormtail's wand—had cast the curse that blew up the street.
There was another moment of silence. Then Ms. Crouch, sounding even stiffer, said, "Does any of us wish to question any witnesses again? To review any pieces of evidence?" None of the Wizengamot said anything. After giving it a few seconds, Ms. Crouch continued. "Then we will move to the vote. Who among this court is in favor of acquittal?"
Hands went up all over the room. Mr. Bones, Dumbledore—even Ms. Crouch slowly put up her hand. Was it more than half? Cass was too overwhelmed, too afraid, to count properly. She thought it was, but what if she was wrong?
"And who among this court is in favor of conviction?"
Again, hands went up, but fewer. Far fewer. Or so Cass thought. What if she was seeing things? What if the dementors had her confused?
"Very well," Ms. Crouch said, her voice back to cool. "Ms. Black, you are cleared of all charges."
Cass heaved a breath and gasped it out, dizzy with relief such as she'd never felt before, her knees too trembling to support her. Somebody grabbed her in a tight embrace, and she smelled chocolate and Rose's honeysuckle soap.
"No!" What? Cass blinked, raised her head, and saw Sylvia Snape on her feet, looking absolutely furious. "You're wrong! She's guilty! You—you don't know what she's capable of! She's a murderer!"
The other spectators were edging away from Snape, save Rick Skeeter, who looked positively ecstatic and had his Quick-Quotes Quill in hand. Cass didn't much care what the press said about her, but Snape knew Rose was a werewolf, and if she blurted that out—
Dumbledore swept in and took Snape by the arm, pulling her away. Skeeter looked more than annoyed, but clearly knew he wouldn't get anywhere now, and began searching for other prey.
"Let's get out of here," Rose whispered, and pulled Cass to her feet. "Do you want to go see Honesty?"
"Absolutely."