Two days later, the wheels of justice finally began to turn.
At the Ministry of Magic, deep beneath the bustling streets of London in a maze of corridors and enchanted lifts, the most significant Wizengamot trial in over a decade was about to begin.
The ancient Wizengamot courtroom proceeded exactly as scheduled despite the unprecedented speed of its arrangement. Adrian had been formally invited to observe the historic proceedings, his presence deemed essential by the court.
Strictly speaking, both Black and Pettigrew had been discovered, pursued, and ultimately captured through his direct intervention, making him a crucial witness who needed to be present to provide firsthand testimony during the judgment.
The courtroom was dimly lit. Peter sat trembling bound to the infamous judgment chair at the room's center. Heavy iron chains, enchanted to prevent any magical escape were wrapped around his wrists and ankles.
Sirius stood not far in front of his former friend. His eyes burned with thirteen years of accumulated fury as he glared at Peter with venomous intensity—the lingering effects of the Veritaserum had finally worn off, leaving him free to express his hatred.
Surrounding this dramatic scene were the tiered seats that rose like an amphitheater toward the ceiling. The jury consisted of more than fifty distinguished Wizengamot members all wearing the traditional deep purple robes with the silver "W" emblems embroidered on their left chests.
Dumbledore was currently the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.
"Based on the testimony obtained under Veritaserum administration, validated by Sirius Black's detailed evidence, and supplemented by crucial authentic details provided by Professor Adrian Westeros,"
Dumbledore announced, "the evidence conclusively proves that Peter Pettigrew has indeed committed unforgivable crimes: betraying James and Lily Potter to Voldemort, directly leading to their tragic deaths; framing an innocent man through calculated deception, causing Sirius Black to suffer twelve long years of wrongful imprisonment among the Dementors; and destroying an entire Muggle street while murdering twelve innocent Muggles."
Peter was bound to the judgment chair by iron chains. As he listened to Dumbledore's recitation of his crimes, his already pale face drained to the color of old parchment, and his hands began to shake so violently that the chains rattled with a sound like rumble.
He understood that once these charges were formally established, only the cruelest punishment awaited him—quite possibly even death itself, delivered by the most terrifying means the wizarding world had developed.
Adrian stood to one side of the courtroom, his arms crossed as he observed the proceedings. He shook his head almost indiscernibly, though his expression remained blank.
His dissatisfaction wasn't directed at Peter's inevitable judgment—the man deserved everything he was about to receive—but rather at the Ministry of Magic's typically self-serving approach to the entire affair.
During the jury's earlier preliminary statements, not a single Ministry official had acknowledged any of their own failures or official negligence that had allowed an innocent man to rot in Azkaban for over a decade. Of course, such selective amnesia was perfectly typical behavior for the Ministry.
"Given the severity and far-reaching consequences of Peter Pettigrew's crimes against both the wizarding and Muggle communities," Dumbledore's voice echoed through the hushed courtroom like a funeral bell, "I hereby propose the maximum penalty available under wizarding law—the Dementor's Kiss."
The courtroom fell deathly silent, even breathing could be heard clearly.
Peter's head jerked upward with desperate suddenness, his bulging eyes filling with terror.
The Dementor's Kiss represented far more than a simple death sentence—it was the most feared punishment in the entire arsenal of magical justice, an officially sanctioned extreme penalty that made ordinary execution seem merciful by comparison.
The process would be carried out by the Dementors themselves, those soul-sucking wraiths who would drain away Peter's life. The Dementor's Kiss would methodically extract the prisoner's soul through his mouth, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell.
Every individual who had previously received this ultimate punishment had, without exception, become what the wizarding world referred to as "living dead"—bodies that retained basic vital signs while losing all consciousness, memory, personality, and anything that could be called human.
In such a nightmarish state of existence, death would indeed be a blessing beyond measure.
"Peter Pettigrew," Dumbledore's voice rang out again with the solemnity of final judgment, "according to the established regulations of this court, you retain the right to make one final statement before sentence is passed."
Every pair of eyes in the courtroom focused with intensity on the short, fat, balding man. The silence stretched, broken only by Peter's ragged, panicked breathing.
Peter's cracked lips trembled uncontrollably, producing no sound for several seconds. His desperate gaze wandered frantically across the sea of unsympathetic faces in the jury seats, his mind seemingly unable to form coherent thoughts under the crushing weight of impending doom.
"I... I..." his voice emerged, weak and broken like a dying man's final breath, "I was completely terrified at the time... the Dark Lord made explicit threats to torture and kill my entire family... I had no other choice..."
Sirius clenched his fists tightly. Every muscle in his body was coiled like a spring ready to snap, barely restraining himself from lunging at the pathetic creature in front of him.
"Please..." Peter's face became grotesque with tears, mucus, and desperate pleading, "give me just one chance to reform my life. I swear on my magic that I'm willing to spend every remaining day of my existence making amends for what I've done..."
At this climactic moment, Peter's inherent cowardice was displayed in all its distasteful glory for the entire wizarding world to witness and judge.
Several cold, bitter laughs echoed through the chamber like the sound of breaking glass. Even Fudge, despite his well-known political opportunism, frowned in disgust at such a pathetic scene. Amelia Bones's expression had frozen into something resembling carved ice, her contempt for the weeping prisoner clear in every line of her face.
What an absolutely pathetic attempt at a defense. Such self-serving words, without any genuine remorse or acceptance of responsibility, couldn't possibly win him even a glimmer of hope or mercy from this gathering.
The formal voting process began immediately, conducted by the traditional show of hands that had decided the fates of criminals for centuries.
Naturally, the overwhelming majority of Wizengamot members raised their hands without hesitation. Only a scattered handful chose to abstain, and not a single hand was raised in Peter's defense.
Dumbledore surveyed the sea of raised hands with solemn dignity before making the announcement that would seal Peter Pettigrew's fate: "The verdict is passed by overwhelming majority. Peter Pettigrew, you are hereby sentenced to receive the Dementor's Kiss."
Peter collapsed completely in the judgment chair as if his strings had been cut, his eyes becoming vacant and empty as though his soul had already been absorbed by the dreaded Dementors.
After the judgment reached its inevitable conclusion, Peter was immediately taken away by a squad of Aurors. The remaining spectators and officials began to gradually go out of the courtroom, their conversations hushed and thoughtful.
Honestly, this had been an extraordinarily hasty trial by Wizengamot standards, prepared and executed in just a few days when such proceedings typically required months of preparation.
Adrian was in good spirits as he walked through the Ministry's corridors—Sirius's long-delayed case had been resolved ahead of schedule, and his own life could finally return to the peaceful routine he cherished.
He wasn't someone who thrived on adventure and excitement; he'd experienced more than enough of those dangerous pursuits in his past to last several lifetimes.
Now he genuinely preferred the quiet satisfaction of a simple life—teaching eager young minds at Hogwarts, tending to his beloved magical plants in the greenhouse during his spare time, and enjoying the changing seasons without the constant threat of danger.
This tranquil existence had become his current favorite way of living, and he guarded it jealously.
Moreover, he was aware that Voldemort's future resurrection had been closely linked to Peter Pettigrew in the original story. Now that Peter had been captured, tried, and sentenced well ahead of schedule, though Adrian couldn't be entirely certain this change could prevent the Dark Lord's eventual return, it would at the very least significantly delay those terrible events and potentially alter their course completely.
Just as these satisfying thoughts were occupying his mind, a regrettably familiar voice reached Adrian's ears like fingernails on a chalkboard.
"Professor Westeros, if I might have a word."
Cornelius Fudge approached accompanied by a short woman whose very presence seemed to lower the temperature of the surrounding air. They had both already removed their formal purple Wizengamot jury robes, revealing their everyday Ministry attire beneath.
The woman wore an aggressively pink wool suit with fluffy artificial curls held in place by a sickeningly sweet lace headband that belonged on a much younger person. Her face was arranged in a smile so artificially sweet it could have caused diabetes, but her small, cold eyes remained calculating and predatory.
From these immediately recognizable and deeply unpleasant details, Adrian confirmed her identity with a sinking heart: Dolores Umbridge, currently serving as Deputy Minister of Magic.
Adrian suppressed his instinctive groan but maintained a carefully constructed smile of professional politeness on his face. "Minister Fudge, Ms. Umbridge."
"I've been hearing such wonderful things, Professor Westeros," Umbridge said in her distinctively shrill voice, "thanks to your vital assistance and keen observation, this entire dreadful matter could be resolved so efficiently. That cunning criminal managed to deceive everyone for far too long."
"I merely fulfilled my obligations as a citizen of the wizarding community," Adrian replied with flatness, hoping to discourage further conversation with this woman.
"Oh, Professor Westeros, you're being far too modest about your contributions," Fudge interjected with forced lightness, though his expression said the outcome wasn't quite what he had originally hoped for.
Still, Black's politically explosive case had finally reached a definitive conclusion, removing a potential source of embarrassment for his administration.
"When will Peter be executed?" Adrian asked with what sounded like casual curiosity.
"That's not technically an execution in the traditional sense..." Fudge said quietly, his voice dropping to avoid attracting unwanted attention from passing Ministry workers.
"The Dementor's Kiss will be ordered in approximately two weeks. That timeframe allows for all necessary preparations. Although this particular matter has been resolved, the Ministry will still conduct thorough investigations into related issues—necessary due diligence, you understand."
'Due diligence?' Adrian thought with concealed cynicism.
'More likely covering up their own spectacular incompetence.'
"You're not concerned that Peter might somehow manage to escape custody, are you?" Fudge showed what he clearly intended to be a reassuring smile, though it came across as somewhat forced.
"He'll be held in Azkaban's most secure and heavily warded cell, the same type used for the most dangerous criminals in wizarding history. The prison has significantly strengthened its defenses since recent... irregularities, and every single Dementor has received specific instructions regarding his case. We'll be monitoring his every movement twenty-four hours a day."
Adrian remained tactfully silent, though privately he wondered if Fudge's reassurances were meant more for the Minister's own peace of mind than for anyone else's.
Perhaps because Sirius Black had recently managed such a spectacular escape from supposedly impregnable Azkaban, Fudge seemed to lack genuine confidence in his own security arrangements. After all, if Peter somehow managed to escape as well, both the Ministry's credibility and Azkaban's fearsome reputation would be utterly destroyed, potentially bringing down Fudge's entire administration.
After Fudge and the thoroughly unpleasant Umbridge finally took their leave, continuing their hushed political conversations as they disappeared into the Ministry's maze, various other officials and observers continued to pass by Adrian's position near the courtroom entrance.
They all nodded to him with varying degrees of respect and curiosity, recognizing him as the man who had brought this case to its conclusion. Several ambitious-looking individuals clearly wanted to approach him for more detailed conversations, perhaps hoping to curry favor or gather information for their own purposes.
Seeing this unwelcome attention developing, Adrian quickly left the scene before he could be cornered by Ministry social climbers or sensation-seeking journalists who were undoubtedly lurking nearby.
Since Dumbledore had thoughtfully and temporarily opened the Hogwarts headmaster's office fireplace permissions specifically for this occasion, Adrian gratefully borrowed the Ministry's public Floo network.
With a flash of emerald green flames that briefly illuminated the atrium, he returned to the familiar comfort of Hogwarts Castle.
As soon as he stepped out of Dumbledore's ornate fireplace, brushing soot from his robes, he was genuinely startled by the unexpected scene in front of him.
The spacious headmaster's chamber was absolutely packed with people. Glancing around, he quickly realized that nearly every professor currently at Hogwarts had somehow gathered in this room.
Obviously, they were all waiting for news of the trial's outcome. Indeed, regardless of the historical era or cultural context, gossip and dramatic news remained vital aspects of human nature, and the Hogwarts faculty was no exception to this.
"Adrian!"
Remus quickly approached, asking urgently. "Is the trial over? What happened to Sirius and Peter?"
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