The Trial of Rodolphus Lestrange
I'll be flat up honest here. Today was rubbish. Today I relived the events of the Battle and before with gross detail. I pretty much want to curl up with one of the nonexistent bottles of sherry in the cellar and just numb out. I think I've gone through a half a pack of cloves today alone. Ha... my lungs ache.
I received an official Writ of Summons from the Wizengamot two days ago. I guess the provisional government has transitioned enough that they feel confident in holding their inquests against the former Deatheaters. Well... the first brought me face to face with that lot again and I am not, was not ready. I was set to act as a witness for the Ministry, and I had no choice.
The reason seemed a little distant to me, but who am I to argue putting a man like Rodolphus Lestrange away. Hades, he deserves the Kiss as far as I'm concerned. He and his entirely bloody family. Sod a trial! We know he was there.
The entire room had a completely medieval feel to it once I was led in. I half-expected Torquemada himself to step in the room, maybe with a flaming poker casually at bay. It really highlighted the fear and loathing people are still feeling. I wonder if it was that way the first time around.
An Auror with a gruff look, scar and ratty ponytail led me in by the arm and sat me down. Ha... and as soon as I sat down, there was about fifty members of the Wizengamot and an army of Aurors staring directly at me.
Cue need for cigarette number one... and I wasn't going to get it.
There was a grinding sound and as I turned my head to look at the source, I could feel my blood run cold. Cue need for cigarette number two... three... maybe four. I still wasn't going to get them either.
Rodolphus Lestrange.
Even in this... this construct which was like a human-sized birdcage with all of these flaming embered arrows pointing at him at various distance- the closest virtually against his cheek... Lestrange just stood there. In a way, his calm was utterly terrifying. Those impassive black eyes... Merlin... old world, almost Spaniard beautiful. Sort of unnerving.
I remember those eyes, I still do. I see them every once in awhile in my dreams. Black and... cold. I got my best look at them as he was standing over me, about to Killing Curse me. I was just lucky that Auror attacked him when he did. Which led me to my reason I was there. I was one of the few people who duelled Lestrange and managed to survive. My understanding of the man is that he is very calculative. You attack him first, but in attacking him, you've given him permission to end you. I was not quite aware of that when I threw a hex at him.
The next thing I knew, I was fighting for my life... and I'd been training on the Golem long enough to effectively manage some of You-Know-Who's other chavs. But I... I remember this so well. I've always been a bloody polaroid head, and its a curse. My brain remembers every ounce of that fight. I don't think I got more than two counterattacks in, and he deflected them away like they were cheese. Meanwhile, I was pulling out every stop I could just to survive.
I remember after I took a strike at him with Hiberniae, he nailed me with... something. It was like a combination of Everte Statum and Stupefy. I hit the wall and slid down and he was about to finish me off, when the Auror broke through and managed to distract him. I remember scrambling up and wanting to help, but the man told me to run. Which also still haunts me. Looking into those eyes today, I knew I made the wrong decision.
Well... after I pointed him out and recounted my story... I was dismissed. I pretty much smoked the half-pack then... I felt like I couldn't get warm again, like Lestrange just drained me of all heat. About the time I stepped onto Hogwarts ground, I heard word he was convicted to Azkaban, and it didn't settle my mindset one bit. Now I'm just curled up. I don't want to see anybody at all.
Maybe tomorrow it'll all be better.
I received an official Writ of Summons from the Wizengamot two days ago. I guess the provisional government has transitioned enough that they feel confident in holding their inquests against the former Deatheaters. Well... the first brought me face to face with that lot again and I am not, was not ready. I was set to act as a witness for the Ministry, and I had no choice.
The reason seemed a little distant to me, but who am I to argue putting a man like Rodolphus Lestrange away. Hades, he deserves the Kiss as far as I'm concerned. He and his entirely bloody family. Sod a trial! We know he was there.
The entire room had a completely medieval feel to it once I was led in. I half-expected Torquemada himself to step in the room, maybe with a flaming poker casually at bay. It really highlighted the fear and loathing people are still feeling. I wonder if it was that way the first time around.
An Auror with a gruff look, scar and ratty ponytail led me in by the arm and sat me down. Ha... and as soon as I sat down, there was about fifty members of the Wizengamot and an army of Aurors staring directly at me.
Cue need for cigarette number one... and I wasn't going to get it.
There was a grinding sound and as I turned my head to look at the source, I could feel my blood run cold. Cue need for cigarette number two... three... maybe four. I still wasn't going to get them either.
Rodolphus Lestrange.
Even in this... this construct which was like a human-sized birdcage with all of these flaming embered arrows pointing at him at various distance- the closest virtually against his cheek... Lestrange just stood there. In a way, his calm was utterly terrifying. Those impassive black eyes... Merlin... old world, almost Spaniard beautiful. Sort of unnerving.
I remember those eyes, I still do. I see them every once in awhile in my dreams. Black and... cold. I got my best look at them as he was standing over me, about to Killing Curse me. I was just lucky that Auror attacked him when he did. Which led me to my reason I was there. I was one of the few people who duelled Lestrange and managed to survive. My understanding of the man is that he is very calculative. You attack him first, but in attacking him, you've given him permission to end you. I was not quite aware of that when I threw a hex at him.
The next thing I knew, I was fighting for my life... and I'd been training on the Golem long enough to effectively manage some of You-Know-Who's other chavs. But I... I remember this so well. I've always been a bloody polaroid head, and its a curse. My brain remembers every ounce of that fight. I don't think I got more than two counterattacks in, and he deflected them away like they were cheese. Meanwhile, I was pulling out every stop I could just to survive.
I remember after I took a strike at him with Hiberniae, he nailed me with... something. It was like a combination of Everte Statum and Stupefy. I hit the wall and slid down and he was about to finish me off, when the Auror broke through and managed to distract him. I remember scrambling up and wanting to help, but the man told me to run. Which also still haunts me. Looking into those eyes today, I knew I made the wrong decision.
Well... after I pointed him out and recounted my story... I was dismissed. I pretty much smoked the half-pack then... I felt like I couldn't get warm again, like Lestrange just drained me of all heat. About the time I stepped onto Hogwarts ground, I heard word he was convicted to Azkaban, and it didn't settle my mindset one bit. Now I'm just curled up. I don't want to see anybody at all.
Maybe tomorrow it'll all be better.