The air in the courtroom was heavy with anticipation. Ornate chandeliers cast shifting shadows on the ancient stone walls, and the murmurs of the gathered audience faded to a tense silence as Chief Warlock Theodore Lord rose from his seat at the center of the Wizengamot chamber. His authoritative presence commanded the attention of all, his silver-lined robes glinting in the flickering torchlight.

Standing tall, with a deep, resonant voice that echoed through the chamber, he addressed the defendant:

"Brutus Caspius Weasley, son of Caspius Weasley and Arabella Weasley née Rowle. You stand accused of harassment, stalking, and attempted assault on Lady Lyra Estelle Malfoy, daughter of Brutus Malfoy and Lady Helena Malfoy née Greengrass. How do you plead?"

The name "Malfoy" rippled through the courtroom like an electric charge. All eyes shifted to Brutus Weasley, who stood stiffly behind his table. His lawyers, clearly more astute than he, were frantically trying to convey a silent message through pointed glances: Plead guilty. But Brutus, ever the arrogant fool, straightened his posture and declared loudly, "Not guilty."

A low murmur of disbelief swept through the crowd.

Chief Warlock Lord, his expression unreadable, simply nodded. "The plea is noted. Prosecution, you may proceed."

Alphard Black rose from his seat with an air of quiet confidence, his dark robes swishing as he moved toward the center of the chamber. His sharp, calculating eyes swept over the gathered crowd before landing briefly on Brutus, who avoided his gaze. Alphard's presence was magnetic, his composed demeanor a stark contrast to the nervous tension radiating from the defense's side.

"Thank you, Chief Warlock," he began, his voice calm yet commanding. "For my first witness, I would like to call upon Lady Alexandrina Peverell to take the dais."

The room fell utterly silent at the mention of the name. Alexandrina Peverell. Even among the most illustrious families, hers was a name spoken with reverence-and, often, fear.

She rose gracefully from her seat, her midnight-blue robes shimmering faintly as she moved. Alexandrina carried herself with an ethereal dignity, her dark hair gleaming in the torchlight and her eyes betraying none of the emotion that surely stirred within. Every step she took toward the dais felt deliberate, each one commanding the room's full attention.

As she ascended the dais, her sharp gaze flicked briefly to Brutus, and for a fleeting moment, her expression hardened, though she said nothing. Alphard watched her with the faintest glimmer of satisfaction; her testimony would be pivotal.

Once seated, Alexandrina placed her hands lightly on the armrests, her posture unyielding. Chief Warlock Lord nodded toward her. "Lady Peverell, do you swear on your honor and magic to speak the truth?"

"I swear upon my mother, Mother Magic, that everything I shall say from this moment forth shall be the absolute truth."

A collective breath caught in the throats of the courtroom. The ritual of swearing on Mother Magic was ancient, sacred, and fraught with weight. No one spoke those words lightly, for to lie under such an oath was to invite unforgivable consequences-a fate that no one would wish upon even their worst enemy. This declaration cemented for all present that the words of Lady Alexandrina Peverell would be the undeniable truth.

The room was utterly still. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.

The courtroom was thick with tension as Alphard Black prepared for his next strike, his dark eyes glinting with determination. His voice rang out, cutting through the silence, "I would like to remind this court that Lady Peverell is not only an eyewitness to the assault on Lady Lyra Malfoy, but she was also the one who intervened and protected her that night."

The room fell completely still, every eye focused on Alphard as he turned toward Alexandrina, his voice calm but forceful. "So, my lady, could you please recount for the court the exact events of that evening?"

Alexandrina Peverell's gaze flickered briefly, but only for a moment. The memory of that night-a memory which would forever haunt her-touched something deep inside her. For a split second, it shook her. The emotions she had suppressed rushed to the surface, threatening to overwhelm her. But she steadied herself, drawing strength from a deep, ancient place within her.

She started, her voice steady but laced with an edge of emotion. "It was around 12:30 that night. My child, Delphine Peverell, was unable to sleep. She's a rather cranky child, you see. So, I decided to take her out for some fresh air after I had put my son to bed. As I walked through the halls of Hogwarts, I heard what I first thought was crying-moaning, perhaps. At first, I assumed some students were merely fooling around in the broom closet. But when I opened the door, I was faced with a sight that will haunt me for the rest of my days."

The courtroom leaned in, the tension palpable.

"Lyra Malfoy," she began, her voice trembling slightly as she recalled the horrific scene, "was held in a chokehold by Mr. Brutus Weasley. He was forcing himself on her, trying to kiss her neck, his hands bruising her wrists. Her blouse was torn open on one side, her wand lying helpless on the ground, far from her reach. Mr. Weasley had his wand pointed directly at her waist, and her cardigan was bloodied, torn apart, lying at her feet."

A deep, collective intake of breath rippled through the room. The details were horrifying. The courtroom was silent, every person stunned into disbelief. The severity of the accusation had taken on a whole new level of gravity.

Alphard's voice cut through the silence. "And what did you do, Lady Peverell, when you encountered this scene?"

Alexandrina's gaze hardened as she recalled the moment. Her eyes glistened with a cold fury that had driven her actions that night. "I immediately cast a Petrificus Totalus upon Mr. Weasley, effectively binding him in a full-body bind. He could not move, could not act. Then I pulled Lyra Malfoy into my arms, wrapping her in my cardigan to shield her from further harm. I took her to my office, where I contacted the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and her guardian. And the rest, I believe, everyone here already knows."

The courtroom was deathly silent. The weight of her testimony, the truth she had just shared, hung heavily in the air. No one could doubt the veracity of her words. Alphard, having delivered his devastating blow, gave a subtle nod of approval as he returned to his seat. The defense, caught off guard, struggled to regain their composure.

Chief Warlock Lord, his face stern, addressed the courtroom. "This testimony is clear and unambiguous. The witness has sworn to speak nothing but the truth, and the evidence presented here paints a horrifying picture." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the gathered individuals before resting on Brutus Weasley. "Mr. Weasley, you will now have the opportunity to present your defense."

But the damage had been done. Brutus Weasley, who had once held his head high, now looked a shadow of himself-defeated, cornered, and alone. His earlier bravado had crumbled under the weight of Lady Peverell's damning testimony, and he knew, deep down, that his chances of escaping this trial unscathed were vanishing with every passing moment.

As the prosecution prepared to move forward, the court could feel the inevitable weight of justice bearing down on Brutus Weasley.

The defense stood up, looking somewhat less composed than usual, their robes slightly askew as they tried to steady themselves before addressing the court. Their voice trembled slightly as they stammered, "My lord, esteemed Chief Warlock, we must insist that the events described by Lady Peverell are nothing more than a fabrication. A complete lie, one that has been conjured by those who have an interest in tarnishing the Weasley name. We have proof!"

The defense's eyes darted to a pair of students-two admittedly nervous-looking young witches-who stepped forward. They were meant to be witnesses, and their claim was that they had "seen" Lyra Malfoy enter the broom closet willingly that night. It was the weakest of defenses, and the courtroom knew it.

One of the students, a girl with far too much mascara, stepped up to speak but tripped over her own words, and the other just stared blankly ahead, clearly lost. The whole scene reeked of desperation.

"Really?" Alphard Black's voice cut through the fumbling attempt like a knife through butter, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Is this the best you can do? A couple of students with more imagination than a house elf? Please, tell me you've got something more convincing than this."

The defense flushed under the weight of his scorn, but they pushed on, "We have statements from witnesses. Lyra Malfoy could have gone to Mr. Weasley willingly, as these students have confirmed."

Alphard simply raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. He stood up, his movement slow and deliberate. "Ah, so now we are to believe that the heiress of House Malfoy-someone with more dignity and sense than most in this room-would willingly walk into the arms of the very man who has harassed her for years?"

He turned his gaze toward the Chief Warlock, who had been watching the exchange with growing amusement.

"Mr. Chief Warlock," Alphard began, his voice cutting the tension like a blade, "I have evidence that will completely obliterate this pathetic defense." The courtroom fell silent, every eye now on Alphard. He smirked, clearly enjoying the moment.

"The Weasley family has had multiple complaints filed against Brutus Weasley, including from none other than Lord Malfoy and the esteemed Lord Slytherin himself. Lyra Malfoy has been harassed by this man for years, and to even suggest that she would willingly go to him is ludicrous. I mean, what kind of heiress would seek the company of someone who has made her life a nightmare?"

Alphard paused, letting his words settle in the courtroom like a dark cloud before pulling a piece of parchment from his robes. "And I'm not just speaking out of turn here. Here, I have the rejected courting gifts that were confiscated by none other than Professor McGonagall when she discovered Mr. Weasley's attempts to woo Lyra in the most crass way imaginable." He waved the parchment, which was swiftly passed around.

"The necklace, of course," he continued with a grin, "I'm sure the Weasleys would like to forget about that ruby monstrosity, which-according to my sources-cost them the equivalent of their entire family fortune."

The courtroom buzzed with whispers. It was a blow, a major one.

"But wait," Alphard said with a touch of theatrical flair, "there's more."

The defense's face paled as Alphard turned toward them with a mocking smile. "I have one final, undeniable piece of evidence. Lady Alexandrina Peverell, in all her grace, has consented to allowing the court access to her memories of that night."

A wave of murmurs swept through the room, people exchanging shocked glances. Memories were sacred-too sacred to be given away lightly. The very idea of doing so was almost unheard of, and the idea that Lady Peverell would consent to sharing her most intimate recollections rattled the courtroom.

"You see," Alphard continued, "this is what separates truth from fiction. When you have nothing to hide, you can offer up your memories. When you've lived your life by the rules, you don't hesitate. But when you've built your defense on lies, well..." He let the sentence hang in the air, and the courtroom fell into an eerie silence.

The defense stammered, completely undone, as Alphard's words hung like a dark cloud over the trial. There was no escaping the truth now.

The courtroom grew deathly silent as the Pensieve swirled and the mist took shape. Every pair of eyes was fixed on it, eagerly awaiting the memory that was about to unfold, for it was this memory that had haunted Alexandrina Peverell since that night.

The courtroom leaned in closer as the memory began to form. The scene shifted into view: the cold, dimly lit hallway of Hogwarts at night. The muffled sounds of distant laughter echoed from afar, and then-something far more disturbing-sobbing. A low, desperate moan reverberated in the air, causing Alexandrina to slow her pace. The image of her walking cautiously, Delphine in her arms, filled the mist.

Through the partially opened door, a shadowy figure moved, and then the horror revealed itself.

Brutus Weasley stood with Lyra Malfoy pressed roughly against the stone wall. His arm was around her neck, choking her, and his other hand was painfully twisted around her wrist, holding it in a vice-like grip. Lyra's face was pale, her eyes wide in fear, her lips trembling as she tried to break free. Her blouse was torn on one side, and the fabric around her neck was stained with blood. The faint glow of her wand lay just out of reach, abandoned on the cold stone floor.

The mist of the memory captured every excruciating detail: the cruel twist of Brutus's smirk, his hand sliding down her arm with an air of dominance, as he forced himself closer to her. His breath was hot against her neck, the force of his actions relentless and terrifying.

The room gasped, unable to look away as the memory unfolded, showing the brutal scene.

The memory shifted. Alexandrina's arm extended as she raised her wand. A wave of magic shot from her wand, and with a soft, sharp crack, Brutus Weasley froze mid-motion, his body locked in place by the full-body bind. His expression remained fixed, a mixture of surprise and defiance, but his body was no longer in control.

Without hesitation, Alexandrina rushed forward, casting her wand once more to pull Lyra away from the wall. Lyra's body crumpled slightly as she was freed, her legs unsteady, but Alexandrina wrapped her arms around her, steadying her. She whispered comfortingly, though the action was swift, protective.

With a single glance at the petrified Brutus Weasley, Alexandrina lifted Lyra into her arms, wrapping her cardigan around her to shield her from further harm. The scene transitioned again, the mist blurring as Alexandrina moved quickly through the hallways of Hogwarts, her expression grim

The mist swirled around them, showing the safety of Alexandrina's office, the quiet urgency with which she moved as she made the necessary calls. The comforting presence of her office was a stark contrast to the horror they had just left behind. Lyra's face was still pale, her eyes red from crying, but she seemed to find some stability in Alexandrina's arms. The brief moment of safety was the calm before the storm.

Alphard Black stepped forward, his voice cold but filled with a quiet fury. "As this courtroom has seen, the memory, the evidence, everything is laid bare before the Chief Warlock. I urge and plead this court to vote appropriately. A wound on a lady's heart, her reputation, her body-scars that can never go away. People like Brutus Weasley shouldn't go unpunished. He should be punished to the extreme."

The Chief Warlock nodded grimly. "Do you call for a death sentence, Mr. Black?"

"No, Chief Warlock," Alfred answered sharply. "I call for the worst punishment that can be given to a wizard. His magic, stripped from him-his memories intact, but no way to return home. Thrown into the worst state of the Muggle world, where he can't even navigate his way."

The Chief Warlock's gaze swept the room. He took a deep breath, his voice steady as he spoke to the gathered council.

"We are magical people, not primitive creatures. We respect our women as we respect the mother magic. An attack against a woman's dignity is the worst crime a man can commit. Brutus Weasley will face the consequences of his actions."

The courtroom was silent as the Chief Warlock's voice rang out. There was no doubt, no hesitation. For the first time in history, the vote was unanimous. Brutus Cassius Weasley would be convicted. His punishment was clear.

The room began to stir, whispers circulating as the verdict was carried out. Brutus Weasley's magical core would be sealed, his wand snapped, and he would be cast into the Muggle world, rendered powerless and isolated.

Lyra, trembling and unburdened by self-awareness, threw herself into Alexandrina's arms. Her body, wracked with quiet sobs, pressed desperately against the other woman, clutching her like a lifeline. Alexandrina, unprepared for the sudden weight of Lyra's grief, staggered slightly under the force, struggling to maintain her composure. But just as her heel snapped under the strain, threatening to send them both to the ground, a pair of strong hands, steady and sure, caught them.

The rush of air, the jolt of her own body being lifted, pulled Alexandrina's gaze upward. And there he was. Marvolo.

Before she could even gather her bearings, Lyra was no longer in her arms but clinging to the shoulder of the man who had rescued them both, her sobs softening into quiet, broken breaths against his chest. The sound of Lyra's vulnerability hung in the air, but Alexandrina's mind was seized by the presence of the man still holding her, his grip unyielding.

He didn't speak at first, his focus entirely on her. His dark eyes, gleaming with a quiet intensity, never left her face. It was an unsettling thing-his attention was like a weight, pressing, suffocating. But despite it, Alexandrina found herself unable to look away. She could feel the slight rise and fall of his chest so close to her, could smell the faintest trace of leather and smoke, the scent of him seeping into her skin, uninvited yet impossible to ignore.

He moved slightly, as if to secure her in his hold, yet the movement was deliberate, controlled-a reminder that he had the power, not her. Alexandrina swallowed the sudden dryness in her throat, forcing herself to maintain her poise, to keep the sharpness of her dignity intact even as every inch of her body screamed to pull away.

"Thank you, Lord Slytherin," she managed, her voice a strained whisper, despite herself. She kept pushing away from him, as though that physical distance could restore some sense of control over the situation.

Marvolo's lips curved, but it was not a smile-more of a knowing twist of amusement, a predator's calm before the hunt. He leaned in closer, his breath barely a whisper away from her ear. "Your thank you... isn't enough," he murmured, his voice low, rich with something dangerously close to amusement.

Alexandrina's pulse quickened, though she did her best not to betray the tremor that flickered through her. She clenched her jaw, feeling the strength of his presence looming over her like an unrelenting storm. Still, she stood her ground.

"And what must I do to express my gratitude?" she asked, her voice steady, but there was a tremor in it-just a trace. She hated how small that trace felt. Hated how the power in his words made her feel exposed.

Marvolo didn't answer immediately. His eyes bored into hers with unspoken questions, unrelenting. Then, without warning, he leaned in just a little closer, and for the briefest of moments, his lips hovered near her temple. The breath between them was warm, charged, almost unbearable. He seemed to inhale her scent, slow and deliberate, as though trying to memorize it. The movement was so intimate it took her breath away, leaving her frozen-caught between fear and something else, something far too dangerous for her to acknowledge.

She could feel him there, so near, so intoxicatingly close.