The man sitting in front of Aveline was about as boring and stuck up as a stick. He was a methodical sort of man, the type who seemed as if he didn't have an ounce of imagination nor human emotion. With his perfectly pressed ministry assigned black suite, the crisp gel in his black hair that made him seem like some sort of plastic male barbie doll.
He had been sitting in front of her for an hour. In a tiny concrete wall with not an ounce of light except the artificial fluorescent light above them, giving Aveline a splitting headache. She was sitting— tied with magical ropes actually— to a wooden chair that creaked every time she readjusted herself. It was the sort of chair that gave you lower back pain, making her want to squirm every five minutes.
She had not said a single word to the man— she could sense his ministry position from the moment he stepped in the room. Showing up with his fancy notebook and list of questions, trying to act like he was a friend.
He was getting slightly annoyed, she could tell. Doing anything to try and get her to talk, though she knew whatever she said would be turned against her in court.
The mere thought of it made her sick.
How was it in less then 24hr she went to school student to a prisoner?
"Listen, Miss Rosier, we can help eachother out here. It's much better if you confess your guilt, and we can work through this together."
Still no response, all he got was the slight clench of her jaw and hunch of her shoulders.
"Merlin!" He snapped, standing up and banging a hand on the table. "You Rosier's are all dramatic little ass holes!"
If Aveline wasn't trying to remain calm she would've laughed.
Though this wasn't exactly a laughing matter. Here she was— a mere 17 years old— arrested on murder chargers
If her mother was here to witness this, she'd be oh so proud.
__________
"SHE WON'T SURVIVE AZKABAN SHE SLEEPS ON SILK BED SHEETS!" Sirius shrieked, running both hands through his hair and pulling, his eyes wide.
After Aveline had been whisked away, the girls friends had been crowded into Mcgonagall's office. The Proffesor telling them all to sit calmly and shutting the door tightly as she rushed away.
The room was tense— Remus sitting in a chair by the fire, gripping it so intensity his knuckles were white. Peter pacing the room with his face a bright red. Sirius absolutely freaking out, standing and ranting and shrieking about how he was going to burn down the entire school.
The girls were there as well— Lily, Marlene, Mary and Dorcas— all equally as stressed to various degrees.
"This is bull shit! Aveline is to fucking smart to spend her life rotting in azkaban!" Sirius snapped. "All it takes is a couple a months and she might as well be dead—"
"Sirius, don't," James warned in a low tone, from where he was sitting. Running a hand through his hair in stress.
"What? I'm the only one being realistic—"
"Your being annoying."
"She won't survive a year—"
"Don't say that!" James hissed, standing up and looking eye to eye with Sirius.
"Sorry not all of us like to live on rainbows and sunshine—
"Enough!" Lily cut in, standing up and grabbing James by the shoulder. Glaring between the two boys. "There are more important things right now, then your hissy little boy fits. Now sit down!"
At once both boys sat down, looking down at the floor like obedient dogs. A tension was thick in the room, so much so no one dared say a word.
Moments later the door opened, Mcgonagall and Dumbledore walking in. They seemed equally as tense, Dumbledore's eyes lacking there usual joyful spark.
"Mr Potter, I have contacted your parents and they are expected to arrive any moment. As for the rest of
you, I need to warn you in the next months you may be contacted by the ministry or prophet to give information on Miss Rosier. You must not say anything. Even a single word can be detrimental to Miss Rosier's freedom. Does everyone understand?" Dumbledore said, his tone low and unforgiving. He looked around, taking in each and every one of them as they nodded there heads. Once he was satisfied he nodded, "You shall all return to your regular scheduled classes. Talk to no one about Miss Rosier on what you might or might not expect."
The group was shuffled out of Mcgonagall's office, just as Mr and Mrs Potter arrived via floo. James got one look at his mothers worried face before the door was shut by Mcgonagall, who wore an apologetic look.
Fleamont and Euphemia Potter loved Aveline Rosier as if she was their own daughter. So it made perfectly logical sense to contact the duo when it came down to it.
There would be a lot of work to be done between now and the day of Aveline's trial if the girl ever hope to see the light of day again.