Again, only a few flinches.
With a firm nod and voice the Healer replied, "It is. Using forensic magics it has been confirmed that this body is that of the one known as Lord Voldemort."
Then he, the Healer, reached into his robes as he walked around to stand before the Wizengamot Scribe and offered up a short stack of documents. "I hand to the Scribe a copy of the Declaration of Death Certificate, together with written testimony as to the nature of the man's death." "Verbally, Master Healer," said Bones. "How did he die?"
"He was struck with a Piercing Curse, Pecutio, to the middle of the forehead," replied the Healer, after handing over the documents before walking back to where he first stood.
Gesturing with an index finger to Riddle's head he said, "The power of the curse was strong enough to pierce right through the frontal bone of the skull, through the brain and exited out through the parietal bone at the back of the skull, just above the lambdoid suture where the parietal bone meets the occipital bone. Death would have been instant."
Having already been handed a copy of the Death Certificate, Bones gave a nod and said, "There is an apparent error in your parchmentwork, Healer."
Frowning back, the Healer quietly asked, "Oh?" With a nod, Bones said, "You have put down the deceased's name as Tom Marvolo Riddle."
That had quite a few give gasps of shock or surprise.
"That is correct," the Healer returned. "Our forensic magics told us that, too. However, it is that name which is his true name; the one given to him at his birth."
"His true name?" she pressed.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle," replied the Healer. "Offspring of one Thomas Hardwick Riddle, muggle, and one Merope Gaunt, no middle name, witch of the Ancient House of Gaunt."
As a great swell of noise broke out, it was only his own shock that had Ogden delay before banging his gavel and demanding silence again.
Once he had it and before he could tell folks off for it, one of the Members, a witch, exclaimed, "Wait! So that's not You-Know-Who?" "It is, Madam," the Healer firmly returned. "Lord Voldemort, the name by which he is... was... known, is a false name. I can only surmise as to why he changed―"
That was a far as he got before the noises of outrage - those appalled the name was a lie and those flatly decrying the Healer was lying - rose too high for him to be heard.
Instead of demanding to be heard, he simply turned his attention to Ogden and, with a cocked eyebrow silently asking 'Well?', waited.
Ogden had to bang his gavel quite a few times before he had quiet again. "E-nough!" he snapped. "E-nough! Or I'll have you removed from these chambers!"
That had the last few pockets quiet again. No one wanted to find themselves tossed from this quite momentous Meeting.
"Master Healer Stanwyck," called Bones. "Explain your reasoning." The Master Healer nodded and immediately described how magical signatures were recorded within the WEA for examination purposes and how the magical signature of the body before them matched that of one Tom Marvolo Riddle kept on record by the WEA.
And then explained how the magical signature of the body before him was compared with both that magical signature and the magical signature they had on record for Voldemort at the Saint Mungo's. They matched.
That had everyone listening shocked, awed, angry and a few other emotions. That was irrefutable evidence.
"And, finally," said the Healer. He spun about, drew his wand and, with his back to the Wizengamot, fire-wrote the name TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE just above head height in the air in nine to twelve inch high letters. "This is how he came up with the name," said the Healer, before he then performed the same charm he'd been shown by Bones, who'd been shown by Harry, who'd been shown by Riddle himself back in his second year at Hogwarts.
The letters shifted about until they finally spelled out I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.
Once done, the Healer turned back around to face the Wizengamot and said, "The entire name, together with the 'I AM' at the front, is an anagram of his birth name... his true name... Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was a half-blood in the true sense of the term; a child born of a magical and a muggle, not even a muggle-born.
"The Dark Lord could only be considered a lord as he had loyal followers. However, he most certainly was not a true lord in that he was not of a noble line."
Surprisingly, there was not again a great ruckus of noise. Everyone was too stunned to react. The Healer stepped back to the body and flipped the sheet back over to cover the face and allow the sheet to once more drape over the head end of the stretcher.
Finally, one wizard from the Seats asked, "And just where is the one who killed him? Where is Lord Peverell?"
"Lord Peverell will be with us, shortly," replied Bones. "However, I first want to bring in another; the one who has been telling us since the death of Heir Potter that Lord Neville Longbottom was supposed to be the one to kill Vol― Riddle."
All around wizarding Britain, it was as if the world had stopped. In places like Diagon Alley the shops were, for the most part, open. However, everyone was gathered around the nearest wizarding wireless to listen in on what was happening within the Wizengamot that day. Almost everyone had wanted to attend and be in the gallery. However, there was both only so much seating and people had, in places, other commitments. Some had shops they had to open, some had to visit those same shops, some had to work in the Ministry and some had to go overseas. Some had to stay at home to look after little ones and others wanted to find out if listening to the session on the wireless could be something they'd quite like to do at another time. And some just had the wireless on to listen to in the background, but wished they'd switch back to music.
At The Burrow in Ottery St Catchpole, Molly Weasley was listening to the wireless in the kitchen with her two youngest, Ron and Ginny. Ginny was 'practicing' her knitting under the watchful eye of her mother while Ron was busy scarfing down yet another helping of 'elevenses', morning tea. He was on his fourth. Switching her attention to her son, as Ron tried to casually reach for let another wedge of his mother's pumpkin pie - of which he'd already eaten almost half - she slapped his hand away, picked up his empty plate and magicked it into the sink.
"Hey!" he complained. "I wasn't finished!"
"No," she agreed. "You were well beyond finished. You've managed to put away almost half of that pie and it's not even a proper meal time. Now, be silent while I listen to the radio. If you need to make noise, the gnomes in the garden are becoming a nuisance again."
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