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The Trial of Orion Black


In the square across from Number 12, Grimmauld Place, there were a series of cracks as the members of the Resistance apparated. Albus Dumbledore stood at the gate of the park, staring up at the old town houses, at the glowing muggle lamps and flickering of their tellies, lighting up laughing faces. Hard to believe in the unseeable space between Numbers 11 and 13 that there was another house, a house in which unspeakable danger lurked.

Minerva McGonagall walked up beside him on one side, Alastor Moody on the other as others apparated into the park behind them - Charlus and Dora Potter, Gideon and Fabian Prewett, Chriselda Blythe, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Madam Pomfrey, and Rubeus Hagrid were all there in the shadows. Hagrid carried his crossbow, his beady eyes squinting out across the street. “In there, is it?” he grunted.

“Somewhere between the two, yes,” murmured Dumbledore. His face was pallid in the moonlight. They could hear a howling - and McGonagall took Dumbledore’s arm, her eyes wide.

“Albus,” she gasped.

Dumbledore nodded.

“How do we get in?” she asked.

Dumbledore shook his head, “I don’t think that we do.”

McGonagall’s eyes were bleary, tears right on the edge of falling. “But Albus - the children…”

“Are not entirely children any longer,” Dumbledore murmured. He drew a deep breath. “There is no way in, Minerva, all that we can do is stand at the ready to be of help should they come out. We have positioned Professors Flitwick and Viridi at the castle at the two open Floo connections, but there is nothing more I can do. The Fidelus Charm on this home is strong, and without having been told where the home is located, there is no way for us to approach it.”

Alastor Moody growled and leaned against the gate, his face contorted with frustration. “So damn close… so bloody damn close…” his fingers tightened and loosed against his wand handle.

“Dumbledore! My son!” Charlus said, coming up behind the three clustered about the gate, “What do we do to help my son?”

“I am afraid we are doing everything that we can, Mr. Potter,” said Dumbledore apologetically.

Dora was crying, silently, with her jaw set against the cold spring breeze that made the branches dance over their heads.

Every one of the members of the Resistance waited, staring at the narrow alley between Numbers 11 and 13… waiting for a miracle.




Sirius was frozen staring up into his father’s eyes, the expression in them eyes the only thing that could change about any of the people in the room. He could hear Voldemort’s shuffling walk. Orion’s eyes met with his son’s and Sirius saw something flickering there, something… almost apologetic. It confused him. He wanted to ask questions, but he couldn’t move his mouth to do so… and so he just stared back.

The Dark Lord moved from the fireplace hearth, stepping between the statue-like figures that filled the kitchen. He put a hand gently on Druella’s head, petting her wild grey hair… and then slid his fingers from her to the shoulder of Regulus Black… Severus Snape… Barty Crouch Jr… He stepped around the huddle of Ali Prewitt, Frank Longbottom, and Andy Woodhouse, purposefully treading upon Frank’s fingers, which crunched sickeningly beneath his weight. James Potter was frozen in the doorway of the kitchens, bent, caught in the middle of ducking from a spell Orion Black had been aiming for his head, the green sparks had exploded the wall behind him, knocked over a great trolls foot umbrella stand. The Dark Lord stepped around him to Sirius, who stood in the hall just behind James, staring over his shoulder at Orion Black.

Voldemort put his hand on Sirius’s face, dragging his cold, pale fingers across Sirius’s cheek, his long, fingernails scraping the skin uncomfortably. He smirked as Sirius’s eyes turned panicked, but there was nothing the boy could do - no fight that could be had, no movement to make. All he could do was stare helplessly into his father’s eyes.

“You’ve been a very naughty boy, it seems, Sirius Black,” Voldemort whispered, “You know, eavesdropping is not a very nice habit to have.” His voice was barely above a hiss as he leaned closer, walking behind him and using his long fingers to pull Sirius’s hair back behind his shoulder so that he could speak as soft as his register would possibly allow him to, directly into Sirius’s ears... “But then again, eavesdropping can only be done… when one has something… to eavesdrop upon.” Voldemort looked up, his chin resting upon Sirius’s shoulder, his eyes following the same path as Sirius’s… staring into Orion’s face.

Orion’s eyes flashed with understanding… panic… fear...

Voldemort raised his wand, and Orion was released from his stance; everyone else stayed frozen. Orion held up his hands - “My Lord,” he gasped, his voice tremulous, “I beg of your mercy, my Lord.” Voldemort looked him over. “Of my mercy? Orion, surely you know better.”

Orion Black fell to his knees before the Dark Lord, clasping his hands now before him. “Please my Lord. I beg of you for a second chance! An opportunity to show you that I am truly your most loyal ---”

“My most loyal servant?” Voldemort scoffed. “You? Orion.” He clucked his tongue, shaking his head and walked around Sirius to approach his father, circling Orion slowly as he spoke, like a predator about it’s prey… his fingers slunk into the depths of Orion’s thick black hair in a most ominous and menacing sort of way…. “I’ve given you myriad of second chances already, and I am very regretful to say that you’ve yet taken a single one of these opportunities to make things right. You’ve squandered your opportunities. Charged with simple tasks, you’ve failed me again and again. Why is it, Orion, that I cannot seem to get anything good from the Black family these days? First, there’s that -- that one right over there -- a boy that defies me - shame of a boy! A blight on the name of Black. A lover of mudbloods and halfbreeds! Disgusting, filthy blood traitor that he is! He is your first mistake. You should’ve killed him the instant he showed the signs of being what he is! Killed him when you had the chance... And then time and time again you have let him and his filthy little friends escape from you. How many times have you let him get away? How many times have I asked of you something and you’ve fallen short of the expectations set forth by the Dark Lord? Oh Orion. Too many times… too many times indeed. I can only pray that your other boy isn’t half as disappointing as you’ve been!”

Orion’s eyes flickered. “My Lord. Please. Just one more chance. Just one.” His voice was thick with the plea.

Voldemort removed his hand from Orion’s hair and he stood, directly behind him, staring down at him with cold eyes. He looked up and his eyes met Sirius’s. He leveled his wand, pressing it to the back of Orion Black’s head. “Crucio,” he whispered.

Orion fell to the floor, every muscle in his body quivering with the pain of the spell being cast upon him by Voldemort. The Dark Lord smiled at Sirius and he stepped over Orion’s body, stepping ‘round James again to Sirius. He stood behind Sirius and put his palms on Sirius’s head, tilting it to look down at Orion as he shook and trembled there on the floor in utter agony. “I know all about you, Sirius Black,” the Dark Lord whispered, “I know your mother and father have inflicted the cruciatus curse on you before… as punishment. You know the agony he suffers…” Voldemort whispered the words in a coo, his mouth so close to Sirius’s ear that his lips brushed against the skin, his breath tickled Sirius’s neck. “Deep down, you feel… glad… that he’s suffering this pain, don’t you?”

Sirius felt sick.

The Dark Lord was right. In some twisted little corner of the depths of Sirius Black, a part of him felt that it was justice being served… that Orion Black had sort of brought this upon himself after all of the times that he’d used the torture curse on Sirius himself.

“Joy over someone else’s pain, Sirius,” whispered Voldemort, and he chuckled, “According to Albus Dumbledore, this is one of the first signs of a dark wizard. And you’re a murderer too, aren’t you? Killed Eileen Prince. Murdered her in cold blood… You come from a long line of dark arts, boy. You could be brilliant. You could be… the servant… your father never was… Really, you have no choice. It’s in your blood. One day, you’ll just… snap… and the bad will come bleeding out of you...”

Sirius felt his heart breaking. Could it be true that he, Sirius, was somehow irrevocably destined, by blood, to turn dark? What sort of good person feels vindicated when their very own father lies, writhing from pain upon his own kitchen floor? What sort of good person kills another as he had done to Eileen Prince?

The Dark Lord ran his hands over Sirius’s shoulders. “Yes, Sirius Black… your destiny is with me… I know your thoughts… I see your mind…”

A tear fell from Sirius’s eye, sliding over his cheek.

Voldemort stood up, released Orion from the torture curse, and Orion lay there at Sirius’s feet, panting, gasping for breath, his face red from his blood pressure as sweat poured over his face. He stared up at Voldemort.

“It’s too bad, Orion, that you failed me. Look at all this pureblood that you are spilling… Of course, there are a few mudbloods in the mix.” Voldemort reached out his hand and ran it along Lily’s jaw.”

Orion’s voice trembled and came out in weak gasps. “Please, sir. Let me kill Sirius now. For you. Let me prove to you that I am your most loyal servant, that I will do anything that you command of me, that I will give you even blood of my own blood…”

Voldemort laughed, “You expect killing a boy, helpless due to my own magic, will impress me, Orion?” he shook his head, “No, you writhing worm. You had your chances to kill him and I have thus far been underwhelmed by your attempts. Your time has passed. Crucio!”

Orion let out a cry, a scream, a wail....

Voldemort held it for sometime, letting him suffer… then releasing him… letting him catch his breath, letting him beg for mercy… and then “CRUCIO!” ...Each time holding the spell for longer and longer, letting him breathe for less and less time… until finally Orion lay in a pool of sweat, urine, tears, and agony, every nerve of his body quivering.

“Please,” Orion murmured, barely able to move his lips. “Please. Kill me. Please, my Lord. Let me die… Please.”

Voldemort studied him a moment, studied how his muscles seemed to twitch and his eyes flooded with tears… a perfect picture of weakness, of patheticness. Slowly, Voldemort walked around Orion, being very careful to stay clear of the mess that he laid in, whimpering, begging for death.

Voldemort shook his head, turning back to Sirius. “Do you see what happens to those who defy the Dark Lord? Do you see?” he asked, smirking. “Watch.”

And with lightening fast reflexes, he turned, raised his wand directly into the face of Orion Black, and shouted --

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"