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The Advocate


MUGGLE-BORN HOGWARTS STUDENT ACCUSED OF USING THE KILLING CURSE ON HIS FATHER, ARRESTED, TO BE TRIED AS AN ADULT
Ministry Officials responded to an incident of underage wizardry at a muggle home in Surrey in the early hours of the morning. Aurors found the expired muggle on the floor, his son, Jasper Odair, standing over him - the murder weapon in hand. It is believed that Odair, who turned 17 on Wednesday, may still have had the trace on him as a clerical error in the Office for Underage Wizardry. While the Ministry Officials working on the case have not released an official motive for the attack, Prophet reporters have speculated that the attack may have been directed at the boy’s father as a hate crime against muggles. Odair is currently being held in Ministry cells until a proper trial is scheduled. Authorities in the Office for Magical Law Enforcement have confirmed that Odair will be tried as an adult by the Wizengamot for his offense and faces a life sentence in Azkaban Prison, should he be found guilty for the murder of his muggle father.

Charlus Potter slammed his coffee mug to the table in the kitchen and struggled to push himself up from the chair.

James looked up from the bowl of porridge he was eating as Dora raced over to brace Charlus’s arm. Charlus braced himself on the table, only just catching the edge of it, dizzy from having stood so quickly. “What are you doing?” Dora demanded, disapprovingly.

“James, get my cloak.”

“Dad, what --” James started and then he saw the paper - the face of Jasper Odair, holding up the placard featuring his prisoner number and a bit of a stunned expression, his knuckles tight ‘round the wood frame as flashbulbs reflected in his pupils. “Holy shite!” James cried, snapping the paper up from the table.

“James Charlus! Language!” Dora shouted, then turning as her husband attempted to leave the room, she grabbed his elbow, “What are you doing?”

“Going to the Ministry,” Charlus replied.

“Are you mad?!” Dora cried, pulling Charlus’s arm.

He shrugged out of her grasp, “Dora - that boy needs help - and nobody else at the Ministry is going to help him…”

“Well how do you know he isn’t guilty of exactly what they’ve said?” Dora demanded, having not read the story.

“Look at his face, Dora,” Charlus said, snatching the paper from James’s hand and flourishing it at his wife for her to see. “That is not the face of a murderer! That’s the face of a scared boy - a boy.”

“I know him, mum,” James spoke up. “He wouldn’t -- never -- not Jasper Odair.” While James had obviously been at odds with Jasper before over the heart and attention of Lily Evans, it had never once been anything but well mannered sparring - and whether it was factual in this time or not, James could not forget the fact that Jasper Odair had once saved his life when he fell from his broomstick on the quidditch pitch.

“Get my cloak, James,” Charlus repeated.

“You can’t go to the Ministry! You aren’t well!” Dora protested, even as James leaped to his feet to go fetch the cloak.

He raced up the steps and slammed his palm against Remus Lupin’s door frantically - Charlus’s cloak hung over his arm. “Get up!” he called through the door, “Or at least get decent, I’m just you’re just laying there snogging.”

There was a long pause and then the door opened but a crack and Sirius shoved his face into the narrow opening, staring out at James. “I know you’re bloody excited to go snog Evans outside the ice cream shoppe but some of us are busy right now and it’s only eight in the bleedin’ morning and no matter how fast we go to Diagon Alley, she still isn’t arriving ‘til one! So --”

“Jasper Odair’s been arrested,” James interrupted.

Sirius stared at him.

The door opened wider and Remus looked over Sirius’s shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“Jasper Odair - you know, Hufflepuff bloke that’s dated Lily all last term? He’s been arrested for murder.”

Remus’s face paled and Sirius was so dumbfounded he couldn’t even come up with a finding joke.




An auror, whose name was Jack Bell - one of the many cousins of Derek and Alice, actually - pushed Jasper Odair so he was facing the wall of one of the cells in the dungeons at the Ministry for Magic. Jasper’s palms splayed against the rough hewn stone as Jack Bell patted him down to be sure he did not have any concealed weapons or additional wands on his person. “Hold still, son,” he said firmly.

Jasper did just as he was told.

“Please, sir, he was hurting my mum,” Jasper begged, though his words slurred together and came out funny because of the swell of his lip and the newly repaired snap in the cartilage of his nose. His eyes were only just open. “It was self defense, it was a mistake.”

Jack Bell ignored the pleas.

Fabian Prewett came down the stairs - reluctantly paused on the bottom step, still plagued by nightmares of the time he’d spent locked in that very cell where Jasper now stood in the nondescript, Ministry-issued grey frock reserved for prisoners. Jack looked up as Fabian’s boots finally hit the stone floor and the higher-ranking auror came over to where he stood frisking Jasper.

Fabian was followed closely by a slow-moving Charlus Potter, whose hand trembled against the stone for balance as he walked, clutching a cane with his other hand that bore a majority of his weight. He followed Fabian to the bottom and over to the cell, stepping inside and waving Jack Bell back from Jasper, whose eyes were squeezed shut now as he leaned against the wall, fearful of what was about to happen.

Charlus Potter stared at Jasper for a long moment, long enough that Jasper took the chance and looked over at him. The boy’s eyes were wild with pleading.

“Do you prefer being called Mr. Odair or Jasper?” Charlus asked.

“Mr. Odair was my father,” Jasper answered.

“Alright. Jasper it is, then.” Charlus leaned against the wall, facing him. He let out a sigh, tired from the effort it had taken him to get to the Ministry in the first place. “Why’d you kill him, Jasper?”

“I know how this works, you know - I don’t have to talk to you people,” Jasper replied as crisply as he dared. “If I say the wrong thing, you’ll turn it all against me and send me to Azkaban without a fair trial.”

“I’m not here to work against you, Jasper,” Charlus said, shaking his head, “I’m here to be your advocate.”

Fabian spoke up, “He’s your only hope, really, in this, Jasper.”

Charlus reached out a gentle hand and put it on Jasper’s shoulder. “I believe you know my son, James Potter, from school, yeah?”

Jasper nodded.

“I’m Charlus,” he said gently.

“Why would you want to help me?” Jasper asked, scared, and wanting to trust this kind-eyed man before him, but unsure he could. Afraid to let his guard down to feel the fear coursing through his veins.

“Because James says he doesn’t believe you could’ve done this and I trust my son’s judgement of character,” Charlus replied. “I volunteer in the Muggle Liaison Office here at the Ministry and I helped form the program that allows muggle-born wizards, like yourself, make the transition between the muggle world and the wizarding world. My job here for the past eight years or so has been to protect muggle and muggle-borns and teach others in our often harsh community to respect and protect muggles and muggle-borns as well. I’ve worked on many cases similar to yours, Jasper.”

Jasper stared at Charlus Potter, still unsure.

Charlus put a hand on Jasper’s back softly. “Please, son. I know you’re scared. I know. I’m here for you. I’m not going to let them tear you apart. Ravenous wolves they are --” he tilted his head slightly to look Jasper in the eyes. “Tell me what happened so I can defend you.”

“He attacked my mum.”

Charlus frowned. “He attacked you, too, didn’t he?”

“I didn’t do this to myself,” Jasper muttered.

Charlus nodded. He asked, “And how did it happen?”

Jasper hung his head, looking down at the thin, Ministry-issued slippers that covered his feet. Tears filled his eyes. “They were fighting. I went down to check on them, Mum was on the floor and he was beating her and I challenged him and he came at me and I cast the spell.”

“The killing curse?”

“Yeah,” Jasper murmured.

Charlus looked to Fabian, “And we checked the wand?”

Fabian nodded. “Priori Incantantum was performed on the wand.”

Charlus looked into Jasper’s face, the boy’s eyes stayed downcast, his cheeks flushing just slightly. Charlus didn’t know that he trusted what Jasper was saying. There was something about it he didn’t quite believe. “Are you sure, Jasper, that’s what happened? Exactly what happened?”

Jasper nodded firmly.

“He had no right to attack you or your mum,” Charlus said. “It was self defense, if that’s what happened.”

Jasper’s eyes flickered toward Charlus.

“It is,” Jasper replied.




Jasper had told Charlus Potter everything. Everything except the truth about who had held the wand. He sat on the bench in the back corner of the cell in the dungeons of the Ministry for Magic, his back against the wall in silence, hugging his knees, and wondering how Edgar was doing, if Edgar was okay, who was looking after Edgar. The other brothers looked after each other, but he and Edgar were the odd ones out, they were the two that always looked after one another because nobody else ever looked after either of them. His heart ached thinking of Edgar all alone out there, dealing with what happened. But it was better than him being out there, thinking of Edgar in here, he s’posed.

Jasper knew he should’ve been more distressed about the fact that his father was dead, but he had no good memories with the man, really. He’d spent his entire life drunk, practically, and as terrible as Jasper felt for it, he was sort of… relieved. At least he wasn’t sitting here, worrying about whether the Old Man was beating on his wife or Edgar or the other kids. At least that much was safe

He could hear Jack Bell at the desk outside his cell, whistling and filling out paperwork, the parchment scratching under his quill. Jasper shifted his weight, slowly sliding down until he was laying on the bench, staring up at the ceiling.

He was going to be doing just this for a very long time until the trial, he realized.

Possibly for the rest of his life.