Harry Potter : Bloodraven-Chapter 216: The Trial and the Turmoil (IX) (CH - 236)
Veritaserum—or in other words, truth serum—was a highly regulated magical concoction, strictly controlled and monitored by both the ICW and individual magical governments around the world.
Only after meticulous review and explicit approval from the very top of the ladder—high councils or the Minister himself—could this potion be legally administered.
Its reliability was unquestionable. No wizard or witch in their right mind doubted its accuracy. And when the hoarse, heavy voice of Sirius Black, full of remorse, echoed through the cavernous courtroom under its influence, an eerie silence fell over the Wizengamot and the audience above them.
In that moment, all uncertainty vanished. No one could deny the truth anymore. The real traitor stood exposed, and his guilt was undeniable—the potion had stripped away every last lie.
Crouch demanded that Peter Pettigrew also submit to Veritaserum and recount the events from his own perspective. But the rat refused outright, panicked and trembling, and under ICW regulations, the potion couldn't be forced without the subject's consent—so the courtroom got no testimony from him.
But it hardly mattered. Sirius's words, given under Veritaserum, had already laid everything bare beyond doubt, and Crouch insisting that Peter take the potion was little more than a formality.
"Peter Pettigrew," Crouch's voice boomed across the chamber, cold and unflinching after Pettigrew's final refusal—even when offered leniency for cooperation. "You stand accused of the most heinous and unforgivable crimes… revealing the secret whereabouts of the Potters to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, an act that directly led to their brutal murders; and the wanton, unconscionable killing of multiple innocent Muggles." 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮
"For these cumulative crimes against the wizarding world and its very values, the recommended sentence is…" He paused, sweeping his gaze first over the cowering rat, then across the councilors, before finally declaring, "Execution!"
As Barty Crouch's chilling words reverberated through the Wizengamot chamber, an eerie, drawn-out silence fell over the courtroom. Many in attendance stared in disbelief at Crouch's stern, unyielding face, their expressions a mixture of shock and dawning comprehension—including the stunned Sirius Black, seated on the opposite side.
So many Death Eaters, guilty of heinous and unforgivable crimes, had been tried and sentenced—always to life in Azkaban's soul-draining confines—and Sirius had expected the same fate for the rat as well.
Yet here was the very same Bartemius Crouch, the man who had personally condemned many such dark wizards to Azkaban, including himself, now proposing that Pettigrew face the death sentence. Sirius stared at him, caught between disbelief, resentment, and… gratitude he couldn't yet name.
Maverick, watching from above, was also taken aback by the sudden call for execution, since he, too, had assumed the worst Pettigrew would face was life in prison. Besides, he didn't want the rodent dead just yet; he still had plans for the rat, and if Pettigrew were killed, he would have to overhaul a good part of his blueprint.
His expression grew increasingly cold as he contemplated the implications, wondering whether to ask Jameson to object to the sentence. But realizing that the jury—or the council—would first have to vote in order for the sentencing to pass, he brushed the thought aside for now and glanced sideways at Dumbledore beside him.
Surely the old man wouldn't be okay with execution—he was Albus Dumbledore, after all.
Sure enough, he saw that the old man looked just as surprised by the sentence, one brow arched at the Adjudicator's chair below.
"Headmaster..." Maverick asked, carefully wording his thoughts and speaking only loud enough for the three at their table to hear. "I've never known the Wizengamot to hand down death sentences. Even over a decade ago, those ruthless fanatics only got life in Azkaban... never execution. What do you make of this?"
"Indeed…" Dumbledore murmured, stroking his chin. "It may be that Sirius Black's wrongful imprisonment—a grave mistake, a blemish upon Barty Crouch's record, second only to the shame his own misguided son brought upon him—has driven him to severity in this case. Yet I doubt the council will follow him so far. Let us wait and see what the assembly decides."
"Your Excellency, the Adjudicator. According to the established laws and precedents of the British Magical Constitution, he should be sentenced to life imprisonment, not execution."
It was Rufus Scrimgeour who broke the silence first. Shaking off his stunned daze, he rose sharply from his chair and voiced the objection.
At once, the full impact of Bartemius Crouch's unprecedented sentence rippled through the chamber. Since Maverick had first entered these chambers, he had not yet seen such uproar—not even when Fudge had been stripped of his seat—as a cacophony of voices erupted from the assembled witches and wizards.
He wondered why they were so against the death sentence, as a lot of these politicians weren't exactly saints—some were outright former Death Eaters—and yet they acted as if executing a convicted murderer was some unspeakable taboo.
He scoffed at the spectacle, watching the pathetic drama unfold. Politicians were all the same, muggle or magical, always trying to put on a saintly face.
"What is your opinion on this matter, Speaker Dumbledore… will the council approve… or…" Lord Greengrass also inquired, his gaze flicking briefly toward Maverick.
Jameson was fully aware of Maverick's plans for Peter Pettigrew—what had been arranged for the rat once he was sentenced to life in Azkaban. But with Dumbledore present, he couldn't speak his mind freely.
