Stigmata

Prologue: Whispers of Truth

The lone occupant of the room looked up slowly as the barred door swung open with a creak. He didn't look surprised... or really, didn't look as though any emotion registered in his mind. As he had for the past week, his voice harsh and dry, he spoke only one sentence. A question.

"Where is Draco?"

And, for the first time in a week, Head Auror Ron Weasley answered him.

"Malfoy is in Azkaban waiting for his execution, as you will be if you don't answer our questions, Harry."

"You have not the right to question me," the dark-haired prisoner whispered furiously at his captor.

"Harry, please, work with us! Let us help you! I know this isn't the real you; come on Harry!" Ron looked in desperation at his friend, who's trial was to begin in one hour.

Harry Potter, or so he had been called, locked eyes with Ron and glared at him. He had changed. He no longer looked like Harry Potter, the Harry Potter Ron remembered. Gone was his former best friend, and in the shell left behind was something horrible, at least in the opinion of some people. But just looking at him, one could only see a year's growth in the young man; an inch added to his hair that still looked as if it grew where it willed to grow and nothing could stop it. Three inches added to his height, but his overall figure seemed unchanged by time.

It was his eyes that showed the year's influence the most. They were still the vibrant emerald color, but they were now guarded, calculating. They were deformed, too, at least in the opinion of most. Like his supposed mentor, Harry Potter's eyes were no longer human eyes. But while Lord Voldemort's eyes had resembled those of a reptile, Harry Potter's eyes resembled those of an owl. His owl, to be exact, although only someone like Ron, who had known Harry well before, could make that connection.

"You know nothing," the voice rasped at Ron, and Ron felt something break inside of him. But whether it was his hope or his heart, he couldn't tell.

"Sir, it's time to bring the prisoner in."

For a moment, it looked like Ron would stop the guard from removing his former friend from the cell, but he nodded and stepped aside as three aurors hauled Harry from the room.

Harry did not even look at his former friend on the way out.

The room was full of people, so full that it was hard to breathe amongst the audience. But people would have hung from the rafters, if they had to, in order to see this trial. This was the trial of the decade; nay, the century. The members of the Wizengamot were to try Harry Potter. Only four members still lived; they all sat waiting for the accused to be brought into the room and placed in the empty chair they faced.

There was an excited whisper as Harry Potter was brought into the room, not protesting, but walking calmly, encircled by four aurors. Each and every reporter of the many present was already writing a report of what would have to be one of the most important events in wizarding history.

"Harry Potter-" one of the members of the Wizengamot began.

"That is not my name."

All the people in the audience jumped at the sullen, yet powerful, words from the seated and bound wizard.

There was silence for a moment before the same member began to speak again. "Very well, then. Lord Scylla, formerly known as Harry Potter, you are on trial today for actions against the Wizarding World, and that of Muggles, as well. You are charged with the murder of one hundred and seventy-two wizards and witches and three hundred and forty-five Muggles of varying ages and locations. You are charged of helping to lead a conspiracy, a rebellion, against our world. You are charged with exciting certain groups, specifically Vampires and Centaurs, to join in this rebellion, bringing them together under an army loyal only to you, who call themselves the 'Furies of Hades'. I, Davenport Rok'lan, have been chosen by my fellow members of the Wizengamot to lead this case."