Judgment and Penance

This is my very first Harry Potter fic, so if it's bad forgive me :) But on that note, I desperately need feedback if I am going to write more, so comments would be very welcome, just be gentle...



Jami

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Title: Judgment and Penance

Author: Jami

Email: aresangel1@yahoo.com

Pairing: Willow/Oliver Wood

Category: Harry Potter/BtVS

Disclaimer: Joss owns everything Buffy and Angel related. J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, I’m just borrowing them.

Spoilers: Season six finale of Buffy, The Goblet of Fire for Harry Potter.

Feedback: Please, oh please! But be nice, I’m a horribly sensitive person…

Summary: After trying to end the world, Willow was taken to England in order to heal…until she gets a notice from the Ministry of Magic.





1: Fighting for Your Life







She couldn’t stop from hyperventilating. The shaky redhead did her best to control her breathing, sucking in a deep breath and exhaling sharply, but it was doing no good. There was a repetitive sound echoing in the halls in which she currently sat and it took her a minute to realize it was the tapping of her right foot on the hard, polished floor. Willow stopped her nervous twitching when the man designated to watch her shot her an icy glare. Green eyes, slightly teary from worry and stress darted about her spacious surroundings, but the girl was unable to appreciate the beauty of the building’s architecture.



There was a murmur of voices in the next room. She hadn’t been inside there yet, but she had managed a peek inside when the door had been opened earlier. It reminded her of a courtroom, large and intimidating. On the furthest side sat a group of people, ranging in age and gender, all dressed in formal robes. On the other side there was room for observers, and unfortunately the benches designated for visitors were filled to the brim; and in the middle of the room sat one, lonely chair. It looked like any other simple piece of furniture: wooden, basic, unimpressive. But it was the straps on the arms, used to restrain the one seated that gave her pause, causing the witch to break out in sweat.



Giles was inside that very room right now, doing what she wasn’t sure of. He had told her when they arrived that he had some people to talk to. An old friend or two of some sort who he was sure could help her. But Willow really wasn’t sure anyone could help her. She wasn’t too clear on who these people were or how they knew her, but what she did know was that her fate rested in their hands. She could go free, back to her daily life, she could be sent to some place called Azkaban, or even sentenced to death. People she had never met, never even heard of, were about to play judge, jury, and executioner and it terrified her.



This all started about two weeks before. Willow had been in England for a few weeks, staying with Giles and the coven he had told her about. The men and women there were doing their best to aid her in her painful recovery. She was trying her hardest to come to terms with the power inside that she could no longer deny, to deal with the fact that she took a life and tried to end the world. And on top of that she had still yet to deal with Tara’s violent death. That’s when it happened.



Willow wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. An owl, a muddy brown color, landed on the window sill of her bedroom in the middle of the afternoon. Curiosity overcame her and she approached the bird, eyes narrowing in confusion when she spotted a letter, of all things, attached to its leg. Doing her best to be gentle, she undid the tie around its leg and studied the paper before her. When she looked up again, the owl was gone.



On the front of the envelope was her name, scrawled elegantly across the slightly rough paper. Turning it over in her hands, her fingers traced over the official seal keeping it closed, unable to recognize the symbol. Frowning, she left the sanctuary that was her bedroom and went in search of Giles.



The former watcher was in the library, his favorite place in the entire manor where they lived, which came as no surprise to the redhead. He was pouring over yet another book of demon lore when she poked her head inside, quietly asking if she could speak with him for a moment. He ushered her inside with a gentle smile and a wave of his hand and she took a seat on the ottoman in front of him.



She told him about the mysterious bird seated at her window, about the letter with her name on it, and lastly handed him the paper to examine. Even though he had yet to say a word, the paleness that overcame his face and the crease that appeared between his eyebrows caused her to fidget nervously. And when he glimpsed the seal on the back he looked like he was about to vomit. That was never a good sign.



He tore open the envelope and quickly read the contents of the letter. It didn’t appear to be very long, only a paragraph or two, but his breath was now coming in harsh gasps and he kept anxiously adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Willow had remained silent, waiting for him to explain everything to her, to tell her it was nothing to be concerned about. When minutes continued to pass, the redhead gave up and finally asked him what it said. She wasn’t prepared for his answer.



Willow Rosenberg was being summoned to the Ministry of Magic to be placed on trial for crimes including illegal use of magic, murder, and an attempted apocalypse. She thought it had to be a joke, no one could have known, outside of her friends and their coven, what she had done. But the graveness of Giles’ features told her otherwise. This was no warped joke, this was reality. She was really about to be put on trial by a group of…wizards? It seemed so absurd, even to her, but the discussion she had with Giles after he broke the news assured her this was very real. There was a whole world of magic, of wizards and witches, and now she was about to be thrust headfirst into that world with no idea of what she was going to do.



She was scared, shocked, and more than a little angry. She was about to be judged, possibly condemned by a group of people she never knew existed. But Giles knew who they were, was very aware of the wizarding world that existed alongside that of ‘normal’ society, and he never told her. She was a witch, forced to learn on her own and therefore never taught proper control, and all the while there were schools to teach such subjects. He had spent most of his return to Sunnydale after she had brought Buffy back from the dead lecturing her on her stupidity, on her utter lack of control, but did he once offer to her help? Did he ever mention there were places she could go to learn her craft properly? No, he left her on her own, only riding back into town when she screwed up so badly she had to be whisked out of the entire country.



But now was not the time to focus on her personal anger at Giles. Apparently this Ministry of Magic not only had the authority to put her on trial because she was a witch and therefore bound by their laws, but the punishments they chose to enforce had the potential to be horrifying, even deadly. She wasn’t ready for this, they had given her a little over a week to prepare, only allowing her so much time because she was currently under constant, reliable supervision and the charges were so serious that she was in desperate need of time to prepare her defense. Problem was she didn’t have much of a defense.



Her actions, as deplorable as they were, were borne of grief and pain. It didn’t excuse her actions, but never once before had she ever experienced such torturous emotions. And unlike the witches and wizards in that community, her power was unfocused and ultimately controlled by her emotions. She had no wand to aid in her control. While that wasn’t the best excuse, it was the truth. She just didn’t understand how she could be judged by their laws of magic when she didn’t even practice magic like they did?



So now she was sitting in the halls of the Ministry awaiting the beginning of her trial. Every now and then one or two people would pass her by, eyeing her discretely and whispering amongst themselves. She was able to pick up parts of their conversations, mostly just words like apocalypse, even insane, and most disturbingly, ‘The One’. That was what the magical community had taken to calling her. ‘The One’, it was such a simple title but it said so much. She was the one with no control, the dangerous one, the one who tried to end all existence. She had been called many things in her youth, but this little nickname made her skin crawl.



Somehow Willow had finally managed to get her breathing under control. There were more footsteps sounding on the floor, loud and harsh, and the redhead looked to the elevator where another man had walked out. Most people who entered this hall, upon seeing her seated there, would turn away, and would be careful to not keep eye contact. But this man was different. Eyes that were so light that they were almost silver looked at her intently. He wasn’t an unusually tall man, maybe close to six feet tall at best. His long stark blonde hair, which almost appeared to be white, was worn down, the ends of his hair brushing his shoulder blades. His attire was not that different from the other men she had seen passing through these halls today, black pants, a dark cloak that covered the rest of him. A brazen smirk crossed his rather handsome face as he held her gaze. She had the unnerving feeling that she was being studied, appraised, and she unconsciously squirmed in her seat, but stubbornly refused to break their stare.



The man grinned, aware of her discomfort, and continued closer. When she started to think he was actually going to approach her, to attempt to speak to her, one of the two doors to the courtroom opened a few feet in front of him. He stopped, turning to the man inside who she could not see, and smiled in greeting. His smile bothered her, it wasn’t the usual ‘so happy to see you’ smile, or even the obligatory grin a man would bestow on a bothersome acquaintance. It was a calculating grin, predatory even.



“Lucius!” bellowed the hidden man, but Willow now realized his identity. Cornelius Fudge, his voice was permanently engrained in her memory. After all, he was heading this little inquisition. “What brings you down here?” he asked. She could practically hear the smile in his voice. Obviously these two men were on good terms. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. That man, Lucius, made her nervous and if he was friends with Fudge this didn’t bode well for her.



“Surely you should have known I’d come,” the blonde scoffed good-naturedly. “Today is the trial, is it not? How could I pass up the opportunity to set eyes on…The One?” he countered with a smirk, sparing Willow a glance before returning his attention to Fudge. “After all, she’s practically legendary; a wandless witch with enough power in her little finger to destroy us all. I just had to see for myself if she…lived up to the hype.”



“Yes, well, you never could pass up a chance like that, could you?” chuckled the older man from inside the courtroom. “But I am afraid this is a very serious matter, you shouldn’t consider it so…trivial. Legendary or not, the girl did try to destroy the entire world.” His sneered statement made her cringe and she was disheartened to see that Lucius had seen that.



“Trust me, Minister,” assured the arrogant blonde, his lip curled into a mocking grin, “I do understand the severity of this girl’s actions. I was just wanted to discern fact from myth, after all there are so many stories running around about her.”



“So true,” Cornelius Fudge admitted with a grave nod. “Well Mr. Malfoy, if you intend to stay for the trial I suggest you take a seat. We will begin soon and there is hardly any room left as it is. It’s a bloody circus in there, between the reporters from the Daily Prophet as well as onlookers such as your self; it makes for a packed house. Who knew the whole of London was so eager to even catch a glimpse of the girl?” Lucius nodded his assent and Fudge sighed and went back to his seat at the other side of the room.



But Lucius Malfoy did not follow. Instead he returned his attention the young woman sitting on a bench mere feet away from him. Completely ignoring the guard the Minister had placed outside to watch the redhead, the blonde cocked his head to the side, looking at her, considering. He shook his head; a barely audible rumble of laughter could be heard as he stared at her.



“Such a little girl…” he murmured almost reverently. “So much power…” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion and anxiety. She felt like she was under a microscope and while others had looked at her with disdain, he gazed at her in what could have been considered as awe. She opened her mouth to tell him to leave her alone, to tell him *something*, but she was cut off. The door on the other side of her opened and Giles’ voice called out to her.



“Willow,” the watcher said, voice resigned. “It’s time.”



Her eyes had flown to those of her mentor at the sound of his voice and she stood slowly, her breathing coming faster once more. She chanced a glance over her shoulder, but the stranger was now gone, finding a seat inside no doubt.



Giles looked at her sympathetically, but his eyes held an odd mix of nervousness and relief. Willow knew she had to look horrible. She hadn’t slept in a week, there were bags under her eyes, and she was wringing her hands anxiously, her breath coming in pants. But he mere smiled reassuringly and stepped into the hall to place a hand on the small of her back, slowly escorting her inside the courtroom.



“Don’t worry so, Willow,” he whispered, discretely directing her glance to an older man standing in front of the panel of would-be judges. He was dressed in dazzling blue robes that stood out from the dreary black that the other wizards wore. He had the pleasant aura that a grandfather gave off, that feeling of comfort and love. Long white hair reached the middle of his back and the beard he was sporting was the longest she had seen ever. He was conversing in low tones with Cornelius Fudge and she heard the Minister refer to the man as Dumbledore. What an odd name…



“How…how can I *not* worry?” she asked shakily, hands trembling. He pulled her into a gentle, reassuring hug before leading her to the chair in the center of the room.



“Because, I can assure you,” he swore, looking her directly in the eyes, willing her to believe him. “You are in the best of hands.” Obviously he knew this man, and Giles seemed so sure he could help. She nodded and tried to smile, to show him she was fine, but he wasn’t fooled. “I promise you Willow, you will *not* be going to prison. I won’t allow it. But more than that…” he added, gripping her shoulders tightly.



“More than that,” he continued, “Dumbledore will not allow it.” Goddess she hoped he was right.





tbc...