Sitting below and listening to the chief judge's description of the boy's case file, Lys's brow never relaxed, her expression indescribable.
Why did this wording sound so manipulative to her ears?
Strip away all the flowery language, and what should have been presented to everyone was the brutal torture and murder of Muggles, dangerous experiments on innocent half-blood wizards that nearly killed them.
How had it all been transformed into mere violations of the Statute of Secrecy and improper use of wizarding medical procedures?
Most importantly, the expressions on those wizards' faces when they heard what the Muggles had endured—that look of "how could someone torture kittens and puppies"...
And what about the wizards who nearly died but were discovered? What about those who weren't found?
That St. Mungo's boy sat with perfect posture, his ash-blonde hair paired with his small frame and innocent face. Lys simply couldn't imagine what expression he wore when he acted.
Lys had met him several times after graduation, but always behind masks and hoods, everyone shrinking or unleashing themselves in the shadows.
She couldn't picture it.
The chief judge also seemed to have a very poor impression of this St. Mungo's child, but was forced to handle it leniently according to the suggestions of the associate judges on either side.
For the St. Mungo ancestors' contributions to the British wizarding world.
For a still-young child who'd merely made small mistakes during a confused youth.
Given the Statute of Secrecy provisions and having already obtained forgiveness from the harmed wizards.
Six months in Azkaban plus substantial fines.
Lys felt relieved that he hadn't been discovered as a Death Eater and wouldn't need to betray others to escape punishment. As she breathed a sigh of relief, her mind suddenly flashed to the Muggle fat Sandy and her family that she and her mother had encountered in fourth year.
She remembered Regulus sitting on the rocky shore saying:
"I really don't understand the meaning of doing such things, watching beings like myself being slaughtered—meaningless slaughter that's just entertainment. Even after accepting over a decade of education that Muggles are vermin, they're too much like us... Have you ever seen Muggles? They really are too much like wizards."
Lys's gaze fell on the crowd beginning to voice opinions, and Grindelwald's words echoed in her mind:
"Some say I despise Muggles. I don't hate them—they're simply different people with different values. Magic blooms in the blood of a few, so what kind of world shall we create?"
What exactly were Muggles to wizards? Why did they fear them while simultaneously looking down on them so arrogantly?
No, not just Muggles—what didn't wizards treat with this attitude?
Fearful yet condescending...
She saw Dumbledore apparently pressing the shoulder of a hooded young man beside him, shaking his head and saying something.
She saw a pot-bellied man and a witch in understated yet exquisite robes stand up.
The man loudly declared to everyone present that he was willing to pay an even larger donation for his errant child's mistakes, contributing to the wizarding world's post-Dark Lord reconstruction as an apology.
The witch cooperatively used the sheer veil before her to cover half her face, weeping: "My son is still a child, he simply couldn't resist curious temptation..."
The wizards below picked up the thread so quickly that Lys suspected it was all arranged. In just a few exchanges, they forced the chief judge to reduce the Azkaban sentence to one month.
Seeing the chief judge remain unmoved and insist on sending his son to Azkaban, the witch grew frantic but was restrained by her husband.
After reluctantly sitting down, she viciously pinched her husband, seemingly blaming him for not offering more money to bring their son home today.
Just as the chief judge was about to seal the verdict onto the scroll, a hoarse voice rang out, hesitant and trembling:
"I—I object. I want to present evidence. My brother Buade St. Mungo murdered—murdered Muggles, conducted dangerous magical and physical experiments that killed at least ten Muggle-born wizards. My brother, he—he's a Death Eater! His left arm, sob... his left arm bears the Dark Mark..."
By the end, seemingly unable to bear the pain of denouncing his own family, this tall young wizard even covered his face and knelt on the ground.
Dumbledore beside him patted his shoulder and shook his head, his eyes seeming to hold a kind of sigh.
He had tried to dissuade this young man, but...
"..."
"My Merlin"
"How could this be—such a well-behaved boy!"
"What's the Ministry of Magic doing? They didn't even discover this!"
After sounds of disbelief, a shrill, ear-piercing voice exploded in everyone's ears—their mother's voice.
"You're mad! He's your brother and you're fabricating lies about him!"
The well-behaved boy sitting below also seemed incredulous, his expression heartbreakingly pitiful.
"Brother, what are you saying?"
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The chief judge's gavel grew louder with each strike, barely suppressing the scene's agitation. He reluctantly explained:
"This is precisely the effect public trials hope to achieve. Everyone with clues, everyone harboring doubts, can contribute their evidence, using proof in hand to fill possible gaps."
"This is a special time. We cannot miss a single Death Eater, nor can we wrongly arrest a wizard. Mr. St. Mungo, please present evidence!"
"I am the evidence. I even helped dispose of some bodies and crime scenes. Those Death Eaters who were invited even stayed in my house—I can identify them."
The scene fell silent for a moment. The little boy sitting in the chair even tilted his head asking: "Brother, what did I do wrong?"
"No, I was wrong. My greatest mistake was choosing indulgence when you showed those cruel tendencies, choosing to bury and conceal things for fear of family retaliation. Don't be afraid, Ade—I raised you, and I'm an accomplice. I'll stay with you always."
That sharp female voice drilled into everyone's ears again—
"No!"
But what followed was the tear-wiping wizard walking resolutely toward his brother, who was fixed to the bench with alchemical chains.
He extended a trembling hand and pulled up his brother's sleeve.
The Dark Mark's appearance made everyone present gasp.
After settling his unconscious wife, Mr. St. Mungo couldn't even believe his own eyes—his well-behaved youngest son, who was merely somewhat overly curious, was actually a notorious Death Eater!
And his eldest son...
"How could this happen?!" Unable to withstand such shock, he too collapsed trembling.
"Brother..." The boy's eyes gradually shifted from confusion to determination. "I wasn't wrong. I still believe academic freedom should be absolute, regardless of cost. Only the Lord can bring such an age of freedom."
"Sacrificing for the unknown and knowledge is those people's honor."
Under the Aurors' pointed wands, the boy leaned against his brother, still firmly stating his beliefs:
"Wizards hold superior power yet remain stagnant, always thinking themselves masters of the world. But in reality? Wizards have fallen too far behind. You haven't seen Muggle hospitals, their medical methods and experimental processes. Their tools can even detect wizards' existence—they already know too much. One day, if we do nothing, it'll be us lying on laboratory tables. Whether St. Mungo's or our family, we've all fallen too far behind. I just wanted to solve too many mysteries. Only the Lord... mmph..."
"Evidence confirmed. Detained for retrial. Verdict will be announced in two days!"
Seeing the two Aurors hesitate to act, the chief judge decisively sealed the boy's mouth himself, then quickly had the Aurors take both brothers away.