Peter’s unusual behavior quickly drew attention. His vacant, almost dazed state struck many as unnerving, not to ntion suspicious. If Scrimgeour hadn’t already verified Peter’s identity, so might have assud Dumbledore had conjured him with a Transfiguration spell—or even controlled him with the Imperius Curse. Though that idea seed absurd, it wasn’t entirely out of the question.
Scrimgeour soon approached Peter again. As an Auror rather than a Healer from St. Mungo’s, he was unsure how to address Peter’s unresponsiveness, so he cast a few standard diagnostic spells.
“No issue,” Scrimgeour concluded, shaking his head. “He’s probably in shock, unable to process the situation, which explains his behavior.”
Fudge exhaled in relief; the scenario he’d feared had not co to pass.
“I propose we temporarily adjourn the retrial!” Crouch announced abruptly. “Clearly, Pettigrew is unfit to be questioned in his current state. I suggest we send him to St. Mungo’s, and resu once he’s capable of coherent communication.”
Imdiately, several voices on the benches behind him echoed in agreent.
“I agree…”
“Yes, send him to St. Mungo’s first…”
There was a considerable show of hands in support of Crouch’s proposal.
Fudge’s eyes narrowed. “Barty, I don’t believe that’s necessary,” he said icily. The entire point of holding this retrial was to blindside Crouch; agreeing to delay would undermine his strategy.
Turning to a stern-looking witch with glasses beside him, Fudge asked, “Alia… if I’m not mistaken, under these circumstances, we’re permitted to use Veritaserum, correct?”
Alia Bones, Director of the Departnt of Magical Law Enforcent, hesitated a mont, then nodded. “Yes, that’s correct,” she affird. While Veritaserum was not standard in trials, it was permissible if the subject refused or was unable to cooperate. Moreover, it was often used in cases with high stakes—and Peter Pettigrew’s case t both conditions.
“I object!” Crouch’s voice was sharp with anger. “While Director Bones is well-versed in the Wizengamot Trial Act, we must not forget that a majority vote from the judges is required to authorize the use of Veritaserum. Therefore, I call for a vote. I believe Peter Pettigrew should be sent to St. Mungo’s.”
Crouch raised his hand, and others quickly followed suit. However, at first, only about a third of the assembly supported his proposal.
Then, a voice from behind Crouch spoke up. “Rember, Veritaserum has its drawbacks. If Pettigrew’s mory has been tampered with, his testimony could be unreliable. Sending him to St. Mungo’s would allow us to verify his mories as well.”
This argunt swayed more judges, and slowly, more hands rose in agreent with Crouch. A quick glance was enough to confirm that the opposition now outnumbered those in favor of Veritaserum.
Fudge’s confidence wavered as he glanced repeatedly at Dumbledore, looking for support. But Dumbledore and Sirius Black remained silent, watching the proceedings unfold.
When the tally was complete, fifty-nine of the hundred judges present had voted against using Veritaserum.
"The opposition has the majority," said Alia. "The proposal to use Veritaserum is rejected. The trial will proceed."
Fudge’s panic deepened. He had been so sure of his plan: publicly reveal Peter Pettigrew’s staged death, use Veritaserum to expose the truth, and then deliver a powerful blow to Crouch. But now, without Veritaserum, things were unraveling. If Pettigrew was sent to St. Mungo’s for treatnt, who knew when—or if—he would be fit to testify? It could take months, or even just a few days, but any delay would give Crouch ample ti to prepare, rendering Fudge’s well-laid strategy completely useless.
Fudge glanced at Dumbledore again, hoping for support, but Dumbledore continued to look on passively.
anwhile, a smug voice broke the silence. "And let’s not forget Black’s escape,” said a wizard with satisfaction, as if eager to exploit the situation further.
“But he was trying to prove his innocence,” an elderly witch protested. “Dumbledore already explained that Black recognized Pettigrew’s Animagus form in the paper and tried to—”
Before she could finish, the man interrupted coldly, “Intentions aside, Black’s escape severely damaged the Ministry’s reputation. Because of him, we receive at least three howlers every week.”
He paused before continuing, "I propose that while Pettigrew undergoes treatnt at St. Mungo’s, we prioritize extracting a confession about how he managed to evade capture all these years. And, as a precaution… he should be returned to Azkaban under Dentor supervision!"
Though he hadn’t directly accused Dumbledore of deception, the implication hung in the air, hinting that Dumbledore might be guilty of tampering with Pettigrew’s mory or even perjury. The accusation was bold, and many in the room looked uneasy.
Even Crouch’s face twitched with disapproval at the insinuation, though he said nothing, opting instead to proceed. "Then we shall move to a second round of voting. Shall we suspend the retrial and send Pettigrew to St. Mungo’s for a full mory examination…?"
“Oh, pardon , please, just a mont.”
Dumbledore, who had remained silent until now, finally stepped forward. He moved calmly to the front of the room, drawing every eye.
“Mr. Bizzetta,” he said in a mild tone, “I understand your concerns. You are, of course, correct. Without an authoritative examination, I have no way to prove that I haven’t tampered with Peter’s mory.”
Hearing these words, Bizzetta’s initial flash of panic quickly faded. He looked relieved, assuming Dumbledore had conceded. Without absolute confirmation that Pettigrew’s mory was intact, the trial could not resu. Not even Dumbledore, with his reputation and influence, could override the Wizengamot’s authority without damaging its integrity.
Fudge’s heart sank, as he realized his plans were slipping through his fingers.
But just when everyone thought the retrial would end hastily...
“However, we do not necessarily need Veritaserum,” Dumbledore said calmly. “Any magic leaves a trace, especially magic involving the soul, such as the Fidelius Charm. When a wizard conceals a secret within their soul, that secret remains a part of them for life—it cannot be erased.”
“What are you getting at?” Bizzetta asked, sounding impatient. “If you’re trying to teach a lesson, perhaps you’d best get that student back to Hogwarts...”
“Oh, you misunderstand,” Dumbledore replied with a slight smile. “I simply wanted to explain that no matter how securely a secret is hidden by magic, traces of it can be found if one knows where to look. The Fidelius Charm, too, leaves a trace.”
“That’s impossible!” Crouch interjected. “To my knowledge, there is no ans of breaking the protection of a Fidelius Charm.”
“Ordinarily, that’s true,” Dumbledore agreed. “But if a Secret Keeper deliberately goes against their role, exposing the very secret they were ant to protect, the magic weakens. Fortunately, I happen to have a friend who is skilled in detecting traces of such magic. She has agreed to assist us with a small task.”
He turned to Fudge with a cheerful expression. “Cornelius, would you mind inviting her in? I believe she’s waiting just outside the door.”
“Oh, of course, no problem,” Fudge replied, relieved, and gestured to the guard.
The heavy doors swung open once more, and a figure stepped into the room—a person in a long black robe with intricate golden patterns around the cuffs and hood.
“This uniform… That’s an Unspeakable!” soone whispered in awe.
Kyle’s eyes widened as his heart began to race. He never expected that the “friend” Dumbledore was talking about was Diana—his own mother.
“I’m grateful you could join us,” Dumbledore said warmly. “I’ll leave the rest in your capable hands.”
“Gladly,” Diana replied with a nod, casting a aningful glance at Kyle, who instinctively ducked his head, suddenly feeling very small.
Though the headmaster himself had brought him here, Kyle couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling of being caught out of bounds by his own mother.
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