The courtroom was buzzing with excitement as Madame Bones and the jury took their seats. It was the last official day of the trial before the jury would meet to make their decision. It could really go either way. Most of the people attending the trial thought Daphne Greengrass had made a strong case for Harry Potter's acquittal. There was intense sympathy for the man who had given away his childhood and all of his adult life thus far to bringing Voldemort down from the inside. The extent of Potter's spying was still unknown, and the three men who knew those secrets were three feet under the ground. It was probably better that way, however, because there would definitely be a line of people out of Dumbledore and Moody's heads. There were rumors that Director Bones had offered Potter a deal in exchange for a guilty plea, probably trying to save her department some face, but he had refused.

Penelope Clearwater-Weasley straightened out her papers, showing no sign of nervousness or doubt, but on the inside she was a mess. She didn't feel like she had a case anymore, and to be honest something about Harry struck her as sad. She had met the Potters before; her husband's family had been heavily involved in the Order after all, and the Potters were famous Aurors. She could tell they loved their oldest son, and yet he didn't glance their way much. In fact, he seemed to be avoiding the eyes of anyone he knew, even his lawyer. It was almost as if he was bracing himself for defeat. She glanced at him, and surprisingly Harry met her eyes. He seemed so old, much older than twenty-one.

"Ms. Clearwater-Weasley, are you ready to proceed?" Director Bones asked, taking her seat.

"Yes, Director." She turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, what sort of things did the deceased Headmaster Dumbledore and the deceased former Auror Alastor Moody have you do?"

"When I was still in school, I met with Moody and Dumbledore every so often to make plans. Moody trained me four nights a week in combat and defensive magic, and Dumbledore taught me Occulmency and Legilimency. My last year, I received a very specific mission. Before I had mostly trained and gathered information, but this was different."

"Tell me about it," Penelope said gently. Harry shook his head, not willing to say a word. She paused for a moment before saying, "Then can you show me?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, but he glanced over at Daphne. Her answer was written all over her face: Do it or else. "Okay," he agreed quietly.

Harry's memory was placed in the courtroom Pensieve, and the date was noted and announced. "November 1, 1994."

In this memory, Harry appeared to be seventeen. Lily and James remembered that year well, had played it over again and again in their heads, but what they remembered wasn't what they actually saw in the memory. They remembered Harry being so carefree and bright, the world ready for his taking, but the boy in this memory had old eyes and slumped shoulders. It made Lily wonder how if Harry ever really let them see what he was thinking or worrying about or if they had just not looked at all. Still, this was not the posture of a boy who had given up. It was one of someone who was preparing for a fight.

Dumbledore was sitting in his chair in his office, his expression seemingly pleasant, but the standard twinkle in his eye just wasn't there. Harry sat across from him, arms crossed and fists clenched, while Moody stood rigidly to the side. The tension in the room seemed thicker than the fog outside the window.

"Sir, do you want to explain to me why you've allowed a Death Eater to enter my brother into a tournament intended for 7th year students?" Harry asked casually, the only flash of anger in his eyes.

"It was a necessary risk, my boy," Dumbledore answered. "We needed something to draw Tom out of hiding and into the light. This will be too good of an opportunity to pass up."

"A necessary risk?" Harry repeated, his voice rising. "I thought I was here so that those risks wouldn't have to be taken. What have we been doing here then? Making crumpets?"

"Kid," Moody started to rebuke him, but Dumbledore waived him off. The headmaster studied the powerful 7th year, his eyes twinkling yet again.

"I assure you that the work we have been doing is extremely important, Harry. Evan will eventually have to fight Voldemort, but everything you do for us will make that road easier to travel. Never doubt that."

Harry sighed, running his hands through his hair. "So what's the plan then?"

"Severus will start mentioning you as a possible recruit to Tom. It will, of course, pique his interests, and he won't be able to help but approach you. You will feed him a story, one of jealously and resentment and disgust towards your savior little brother and predominately Light family. It will have to be convincing, but Tom will buy it in the end. He has always had a flair for the dramatic."

Harry nodded quickly, but it was clear it didn't sit well with him. It didn't sit well with anyone in the courtroom. Here was possibly the most revered wizard in Great Britain in the last century, and he was instructing one of his students, a student he was tasked with protecting, to forsake his family and his life in favor of some impossible mission.

"You'll advance fast, I'd imagine, and even more once you complete the mission he'll give you."

Harry stared at his teacher. "What mission?" he asked, never taking his eyes off Moody.

Moody smirked. "Why, killing me off course!"

The memory faded out, and there was a slight pause as several of the jurors and even Madame Bones reoriented themselves. Alastor Moody, the best Auror the DMLE has ever seen, a veteran of two wars, ordered his own execution? Something here didn't make sense.

"Alastor Moody ordered you to kill him?" Penelope stated, trying to wrap her head around the idea.

"Yes," Harry replied.

"And you followed this order?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

For a moment, it seemed like Harry wasn't going to answer, and Penelope was ready to move on when he spoke. "Moody knew he was dying, some old curse catching up with him or something. He'd be dead come next fall. He approached Dumbledore with the idea. He said it would cement my cover and leave no room for doubt that I was on Voldemort's side. From there, I'd be able to rise up the ranks relatively quickly."

"But you didn't want to kill him," Penelope said, not really asking the question she wanted to.

"No," Harry agreed. "But he asked me to. I trusted him, and I did what he asked. That's all a person can do sometimes: do what they're asked and keep the secrets they're given."

"Even the secrets of dead men?" Penelope questioned.

"Especially those," Harry replied.

Moving away from the topic that would surely be discussed at length in that night's Daily Prophet, Penelope asked, "And what was the role of Severus Snape in all of this?"

"Initially, he was my connection to the Death Eaters. He also trained me in mind magic. It was a specialty of his. Later, he was a messenger between Dumbledore and me. I was rarely able to meet with him."

"Severus Snape killed Albus Dumbledore in cold blood."

Harry rolled his eyes. "And I killed Moody because I wanted to. Nothing was ever like it seemed to be with Dumbledore. He had plans on top of plans, and he distributed them in pieces. I was not briefed as to Snape's mission."

"But you knew Snape's mission," Penelope noted shrewdly.

"Yes," Harry answered, a little half-smirk on his lips.

"And how did you happen to come by this information?"

Harry relinquished another memory, choosing not to say a word. This memory was newer, dated April 22, 1997, and Harry and Snape were heading back to Voldemort's hideout. Snape's face was complete stone, no hint of emotion present, and while Harry's mask was very good, there was still a hint of anger and frustration in his features.

"Potter, please do try to hold your temper. I do not wish to deal with your Gryffindor recklessness tonight," Snape sneered. Harry did not rise to the bait.

"Dumbledore wants to offer my brother up for slaughter," Harry spit out, disdain in his voice.

"Sacrifices have to be made," Snape shrugged off casually, not surprised by the sudden murder in Harry's eyes. "Be prepared to make them."

Harry, instead of cursing the Potions master like so many in the courtroom wanted to, replied, "I already have. What about you, sir?"

The question seemed to hit Snape like a ton of bricks. He smiled slightly, so slightly that only Lily Potter was able to catch it. "Well, it seems like there is some Slytherin in everyone, even disgraced Gryffindor Golden boys."

Harry simply smirked, not saying a word. Snape, after studying him for a moment, said, "I am preparing to."

Somehow, Harry understood what that meant. "Dumbledore has given you orders then?"

Snape never replied. The memory faded out, leaving the courtroom more confused than ever.

"You were not fond of Severus Snape as your professor, correct?" Penelope questioned.

"Yes."

"And yet you trusted him to be your connection to Dumbledore?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Harry just shrugged. "I trusted Dumbledore, and Dumbledore trusted Snape."

"And Dumbledore never told you why?"

Harry glanced away from her, his eyebrow furrowed. It seemed like he was deciding what to tell and what to hide. Penelope suspected it had to do with his statement of keeping a dead man's secrets. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision. "Snape told me once that he would've given anything to Dumbledore, even his life, but Dumbledore demanded his honor instead."

Penelope nodded. "No further questions, Director," she said, walking back to her table.

Daphne stood up, her eyes blazing, not ready to give up quite yet. "And what about your mission would make your brother's defeat of Lord Voldemort easier?" she asked

Harry smiled a razor-sharp smile, one that made him look like a man who could've been the right hand of Voldemort. "Ever heard of Horcruxes?"

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