V. In which the focus is, at last, on Rita

To say that the wizarding world was in an uproar would be something of an understatement. Everywhere Hermione looked, no matter whom she talked to, it seemed like everyone was in a furore. Hermione was certain sales for the Daily Prophet had never been higher, and Rita Skeeter's editorials seemed to be what everyone was talking about ... And for good reason.

Severus Snape's trial had started some eight days ago with all the restrictions in place that the Minister had seen fit to impose. Through her contacts and friends in the Order, those working at the Ministry and those slated to be witnesses in the hearings, Hermione had managed to get the courtroom numbers to Rita every morning: she'd made simple use of the same Protean charm ruse that she had employed when she'd been plotting the making of Dumbledore's Army.

Aided by her proficiency with non-verbal spells, Hermione had been even more discreet in her collaboration with Rita than she, Harry and Ron had been when they had been planning each subsequent meeting of the DA. Back then, the Trio had gone to great lengths to ensure Umbridge wouldn't get a whiff of their plans. Now, though, Hermione had needed to demonstrate a different, more inconspicuous kind of behaviour. This hadn't been the time for the more obvious secrecy of boisterous youths, who, in hindsight, tended to try and hide what they were up to so obviously that one would immediately know that they were diverting attention from a misdeed or two. Instead, she had needed to make sure she didn't appear to be up to something in such a way that no one would suspect she was covering for the fact that she was, in fact, very much up to something.

Rita Skeeter, intrepid reporter and clandestine Animagus at large, had really upheld her end of the bargain quite brilliantly. Unlike the tack she had taken with the previous Death Eater trials and hearings, Rita had rather changed tactics for this occasion. Severus Snape's trial had been intended to be the most important, and the Minister had taken the greatest pains to make it go as smoothly for his plans as possible. Consequently, Rita had rewarded the Minister's judiciousness with devious tactics of her own meant to thrust the trial into all possible spotlights.

Rita had taken to printing timeline-like, snapshot accounts of the daily goings-on in the courtroom in the evening edition of the Prophet. That, Rita had reasoned to Hermione, would give readers a general outlook and a raw perspective over what was happening during Snape's trial. It would also allow the public to have a general mental picture of each day's proceedings before Rita's exposés – every bit as acerbic as Hermione had expected the editorials to be after her and Rita's meeting twelve days before had ended – were printed in the next morning's edition of the newspaper.

True to her word, Rita had also given Hermione full daily reports on everything that had gone on at Snape's hearings. Though uncut, in that she hadn't edited out anything that had gone on at the proceedings, Rita's notes had been full of acerbic asides that had proved as entertaining as they had been useful; in all, they had painted a very broad and comprehensive picture of the byplay and interactions in the courtrooms.

The illustrious Minister greets Potter and Weasley – aren't they too young to already be Aurors? I'm not mistaken that you three should be Seventh years, am I? – in a sickeningly false affable tone. I've arrived at the Ministry just in time to hide in Potter's robes; interesting use of those Galleon serial markings, by the way.

Scrimgeour giving Potter, and by consequence the younger Weasley tagalong, grand tour of courtroom and assembly. Potter is sporting a particularly glazed look in his eyes ... I may have seen that look before when I peeked in on a Potions lesson during that lovely time when I was – shall we say – visiting at Hogwarts. The Minister would feel so very special if he knew Potter listens to him as much as he used to listen to the prisoner he's so proud of flaunting. (Note for article: whereabouts of Minister during final battle worth exploring ... in depth)

"You should have seen the greasy git today, Mione!" Ronald exclaimed with inordinate excitement. He and Harry were seated on the sofa in Hermione's living room, having decided to stop by for a bit of afternoon tea before they made their way to the Burrow for dinner and presumably to spend the night. "I was right ... he is loads uglier than he was at Hogwarts. Luckily, there aren't any mirrors at the Ministry; all these secrecy measures would be pointless with mirrors screaming bloody murder every time the great greasy bat passed them by."

"Scrimgeour still sounded like he did when he wanted to use me against Dumbledore, though. I..." Harry let out a rough sigh. He looked rather tired this afternoon, Hermione noted; the defiance that had sparkled in his eyes that morning at the thought of confronting Snape once more seemed to have been replaced with weariness. "I can't believe he actually threw my words back into my face. 'Dumbledore's man through and through' ... he made it sound as though I'd shouted it for everyone to hear ... as though it was just another thing that Harry Potter said to make him famous."

Hermione frowned. She had known Scrimgeour had a disturbing penchant for being tactless. A part of her had hoped that he wouldn't stoop to using Dumbledore, and Harry's affection for the man, even more than he was obviously already intent on doing; not on such a personal level, in any case.

"How did your testimonies go? Did you get questioned a lot by the Wizengamot?"

"Harry was the only one who talked today actually. No time to get past second year, either."

"Scrimgeour asked for details on our investigation on Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone. He knew we – oh, all right, I," he relented at Hermione's sceptical look, "had initially suspected Snape.

"I still don't think the bloody bastard was completely innocent ... The traitor was probably Voldemort's man all along. Who's to say he wasn't really plotting to steal the Stone for his Master? It's not like he knew Voldemort was on the back of Quirrel's head..."

"So you revealed all those suspicions before the Wizengamot?" Hermione asked. She knew the answer veered from the, "Of course," that Harry replied with and into, "Of course, and I added my own subsequent 'Snape is a bastard traitor' interpretation," which she expected was a far more accurate description of what Harry had likely said in court.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when Harry and Ron left. She loved the boys dearly, but their stubbornness and refusal to concede that the world wasn't made up of blobs of black and white really exasperated her at times. Quite often, really. Well, all right, lately, a lot.

Potter's testimony is particularly tedious today. He's capping his tragic rendition of, 'Woe, the evils of the Potions Master!' by recounting, in detail, all the detentions he got while at Hogwarts – assigned by Snape or not – and speculating on how much Snape must have gloated for the duration.

Has no one listened to Potter before, Granger? Has he been sitting on his tale of misery and woe all these years, dying to rant and rage about the smallest perceived slight? Does Potter expect his famous name is enough to shield him from the big, bad world? Questions which may never be answered ... Shocking of me to say, I expect, but I'm suddenly glad it's not my job to ask them.

"Bloody git was staring at me defiantly today," Harry ranted as he paced before Hermione's sofa. He hadn't been able to remain seated for more than five seconds at a time since he'd arrived for a light lunch at Hermione's apartment. Harry and Ron would have to go back to their offices to actually do some work in the afternoon, as Kingsley had assigned them some extra assignments. The boys had received their honorary Auror titles in celebration of their victory over Lord Voldemort and the army he had commanded during the final battle. In order to become Aurors officially, though, they would soon need to prepare in order to actually commence their three year Auror training programme.

"I'm glad the Wizengamot decided not to let him speak," Harry continued savagely. "The bastard would have probably tried to make excuses for all those times he was watching us, and assigning all those unfair detentions, and taking points, and favouring his precious Slytherins..."

Hermione sighed. Ron was nodding fervently, though he apparently preferred to eat rather than get worked up about their former Potions professor. Still, he was seemingly unwilling to sit idly and watch Harry rage when he could just as easily sit and be a corroborating participant.

Given Harry's mood at the moment, Hermione opted not to say anything that reflected her own opinion on the matter of Harry's detentions. She was sure she would get her head bitten off, and it really was the last thing she needed. Harry may have needed to blow off steam, and she was willing to let him do so, but if he turned her into the target of his ire, he would have to find out just how much she'd grown from the girl who would grow meek and placating at his shouting.

Weasley's moment to shine at last ... Weasley the best friend, I mean, not Weasley the pompous scribe. He seems to be regurgitating Potter's story. You'll really have to let me know if these two worked as hard at coordinating their stories as I expect they did.

Reading between the lines, I take it Potter never took the time to put in any effort of his own? I doubt this fact will escape the Wizengamot; most of them do have a capability for rational thought. My, what a reliable testimony Rufus Scrimgeour has seen fit to produce for this hearing.

"We finally got to talk about the Occlumency lessons today. We explained to the Wizengamot how the bloody bastard probably sabotaged the lessons, how he always opened Harry's mind." Ron was flushed with excitement, talking animatedly and gesticulating wildly. Hermione thought he should talk about the Occlumency lessons in front of his goal posts when he played Quidditch. The sweeping motions he performed with his arms and hands would certainly improve his Keeper abilities quite dramatically; even Hermione could see that, dispassionate as she was about the 'noble' wizarding sport.

"We told them how he never let up on me and never explained things properly, just using that Legilimens spell on me over and over instead of telling me how to shield my mind."

Hermione chose to overlook that Harry's retelling of the Occlumency lessons back in fifth year had indicated that Snape had, in fact, told him how to clear his mind. Hadn't Harry told them that Snape had said something about it being similar to resisting the Imperius curse? Hermione scoffed to herself. Even if Snape hadn't explained anything to Harry, the Hogwarts library had been brimming with books on Legilimency and Occlumency. She had certainly explained the basics to Harry, after all ... and Harry could have certainly done even the slightest bit of research on his own.

"I almost forgot to tell them how he refused to resume the Occlumency lessons, even after Remus and Sirius promised to talk to him about them. When I did remember to bring it up, the great bloody git looked unrepentant, as if I could have expected anything else from him," Harry concluded in an indignant tone.

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean, 'refused to resume Occlumency', Harry? I thought you had said that Snape had concluded you didn't need those lessons anymore ... that you had learned enough?" Her voice trailed upwards enquiringly at the end of the sentence.

Harry's eyes went wide, and a blush seemed to colour his cheeks as he looked at her and processed her question and what had prompted it. He stuttered for a moment before making a hasty exit.

"Whoa, would look at the time, Hermione. We really, really have to go ... Come on, Ron; your mum's waiting for us. We don't want to be late for dinner, especially if Fred and George get there early. They'll nick all the food again just to spite us."

Hermione watched Harry and Ron Disapparate, her eyes still narrowed pensively. Harry's slip of the tongue had concealed something potentially important, she was sure. She stored the matter away for future contemplation, just in case this was one matter where it wasn't best to let sleeping dogs lie.

It was Remus Lupin's turn to step forward and address the Wizengamot today. He seemed more intent on singing a song of lament for his dearly departed school friends than on providing us with anything particularly pertinent on 'the prisoner'.

Oh, colour me amazed. Lupin managed to convey some gratitude for the fact that Snape brewed him flawless batches of Wolfsbane potion free of charge. Perhaps the Prophet should do a report on the time and expertise it takes to brew that. If Lupin managed to sound both grateful and impressed, it must be harder to come by than I thought.

That's an odd way to express outright hate for someone, though. It's an even more bizarre way to express a lack of loyalty for the man who "ordered you to brew it under duress" (To explore in editorial: was Lupin there? Does he know if there even were any orders?)... Lending all that time and effort to brew the lycanthropy potion perfectly and free of charge is most certainly proof positive that Snape is completely dark and evil.

"Remus was there today," Harry picked up the conversation quietly. "Talked about my–my dad and Sirius ... how they were at school. Told everyone Snape hated them.

"He did, you know," he continued after a beat. "Everyone says they were good people and loyal to the Order and to Dumbledore. And Snape hated them. The bastard betrayed my parents to Voldemort for a lousy Prophecy he didn't even hear all the way through. He was a traitor even back then. I don't know how Dumbledore could still trust him. He should have known, should have expected that Snape would betray him too."

Resigned to Harry's prejudice until the final hearing the next day, when the Wizengamot would hopefully reach their verdict, Hermione bit her tongue with the effort to remain silent.

I'm starting to think Rufus is beginning to believe that, if he ignores something, that means it doesn't exist. Every morning, before coming into the courtroom, I see him frothing at the mouth while staring at a copy of the Prophet.

Unexpectedly though, he's attempted nothing to prevent these articles from appearing; nor has he raged, either in court or to the Prophet about how these reports are a scandalous abomination. Either he realised he had made a spectacle of himself the last time around and decided to desist (and pretend there aren't any articles), or he secretly intended to gain this publicity all along. He must be quite confident indeed that the outcome will favour him.

Severus hardly dared to breathe as he took in his friend's countenance. Minerva McGonagall was the last hope he dared hold on to for a chance to hear something positive said about him at this trial. Severus knew how very much Minerva had loved Albus, though; he imagined Minerva must have suffered – must still be suffering – as much as he was over Albus' death. He wondered whether she could speak around the hurt and bring herself to say anything at least not negative, if not positive, about him.

Heart heavy with his own pain and with the resignation that it would have been best if he hadn't nurtured any hopes, Severus turned his attention to his friend and onetime professor.

"Headmistress McGonagall, welcome. It is a privilege to have you before the Wizengamot," Rufus Scrimgeour proclaimed smugly. The reason for his apparent self-satisfaction became clear with his next phrase. "You were one of Albus Dumbledore's closest friends and confidantes, Headmistress. Undoubtedly, the late Headmaster must have confided in you quite a bit over the course of your friendship ... I am sure you are in the best position to tell us what the late Albus Dumbledore truly thought of Severus Snape. Just as I am sure you were in a position to judge whether the accused ever displayed any loyalty towards the great wizard he murdered."

Whatever else the Minister had intended to say was quelled by a particularly stern look in Minerva's eyes. Being able to witness Scrimgeour on the receiving end of such a look made even listening to him blather on worth it. The inanities Rufus Scrimgeour saw fit to pepper his speeches with were about as welcome as it had been to have Neville Longbottom, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle all in the same Potions lessons for years on end.

"Thank you, Minister," Minerva said in a crisp, frosty tone. "I shall endeavour to present the Wizengamot with my personal opinion of Severus Snape if they should deem it necessary. As far as Albus Dumbledore's thoughts on Severus, I should think the Headmaster himself is in a far better position than I am to reveal them."

With that, Minerva wordlessly reversed a Vanishing charm and with it the concealment on a rather large parcel; Severus concluded that she must have perched it on her lap as she had taken her seat next to him. Another tap of her wand unravelled the parcel to show – Severus' heart constricted – Albus Dumbledore's Pensieve, as well as several vials full of the swirling silvery substance of extracted memories. A rather thick roll of parchment that appeared filled with cramped, minute handwriting separated the vials from the Pensieve.

Intrigued, Severus focused his full attention upon the contents of Minerva's parcel. The muddled senses of his disused magic hummed and prickled with awareness once more. As Severus gathered his concentration, he felt the familiar, precious sense of light and power that he instantly identified as Albus' magical signature. Feeling it in such proximity made him miss Albus terribly, but it also provided a comforting balm to his soul. To his shock, however, another familiar and powerful magical signature, one that surprisingly enough was nearly as present as Albus', imbued the thick roll of parchment and several of the silvery vials.

Severus had known of Hermione Granger's rather staunch defence of him when he had been her professor at Hogwarts. He had thought her absence from his trial had been a clear enough means of expressing that any regard she may have held him in had dissipated under the shock of his last act at the school. So Severus would never have expected her magical signature alongside Albus Dumbledore's in what was clearly a collection of overwhelming evidence on his behalf.

Hermione was on tenterhooks waiting for Rita's missive detailing the final day of the hearings and the verdict of Severus Snape's trial. Hermione and Minerva had been exchanging letters since before the trial had started, and Hermione knew from Minerva that all elements pertaining to Snape's defence would be revealed today during her former Head of House's deposition. She hoped it would all prove to be enough.

A nondescript barn owl tapped lightly at her window. With her heart alarmingly far up her throat, Hermione opened the window, let the owl in and snatched the scrap of parchment off its leg. Instead of the account Hermione had expected, Rita had merely penned a terse note:

Granger,

Rita

Developments? Oh, gods ... Hermione needed to focus. She drew in one breath, then another, until finally she could get her rising sense of panic under control and get a sense of order in her thoughts. The last thing she wanted right now was to waste time and lose her focus.

The terseness of Rita's letter led Hermione to believe that the matters that had 'developed' were quite serious indeed. Hermione didn't think it prudent, therefore, to meet in public, even in Muggle London as they had met the last time around. This wasn't a late afternoon meeting. It was now just barely approaching midday, and this ought to have marked the final verdict being given in Severus Snape's hearing. No matter the outcome of the trial or the development that Rita had in mind, Hermione didn't think it prudent for the two of them to risk being seen or overheard together.

Hermione took a plain, bare piece of parchment off her desk and penned a brief note of her own to Rita.

Rita,

Hermione

Hermione then took a narrow piece of hair ribbon and touched her wand against it while focusing on turning it into a Portkey with her living room as the destination. The tone of Rita's missive had just made illegal Portkeys that much less illegal. Hermione hastily rolled up her note and tied it with the enchanted piece of ribbon before securing it to the barn owl's leg and sending the bird on its way.

"Find her fast," Hermione whispered to the owl as she held it outside her apartment window to let it take flight.

All that was left to do for the moment was wait. And not think of the worst. And focus on breathing.