The Council of Magical Law Hearing of Severus Snape drew quite a few spectators. A known Death Eater to the public, many had come out to see him punished after both the fall of the Dark Lord Voldemort and the tragic loss of the Potters. Hatred and the burning need to punish him came from, in their minds, the association of him with that horrid double murder and tyrannical reign of terror rather than any personal vendettas, against Severus himself. Unusual for a trial such as this, Dumbledore himself stood at Severus Snape's defense. Ordinarily the wizened old Headmaster of Hogwarts would sit on the Council, but, puzzlingly to the spectators, he had allied himself with the young Dark wizard who sat magically and physically restrained in the defendant's seat. Occupying that chair and sitting in front of so many grim faces proved intimidating even though Severus had a near-guarantee of being cleared of all charges. To others it probably appeared to have little to no effect on the generally dour man's mood, but a part of him did wonder of Dumbledore would come through—or if the rest of the court would allow him to. To his observers he looked as impassive as always, outwardly as calm and collected as if he weren't on trial for war crimes with an Azkaban cell waiting to welcome him. Thick-muscled, red-robed Aurors stood off to either side of him somehow managing to look both utterly disinterested and vaguely menacing. Perhaps it was his imagination running wild, or perhaps they practiced it to intimidate defendants.

A wizard with a particularly reedy voice stood to read out the list of charges, seeming more excited as he read down the list, no doubt imagining Severus' incarceration, Severus thought with a grimace. The part of him that wanted to punish himself for indirectly causing his once-best-friend's death quietly agreed with the stranger's enthusiasm, but another part, equally raw with grief, rebelled against the self-blame. He felt he had already paid the ultimate price for his stupidity. He could not bring the one good, pure force from his otherwise gloomy childhood back to life. Absolutely nothing they could do to him could possibly be worse than losing what someone else might call his platonic soul-mate. The overwhelming storm of emotions—anguish, guilt, remorse, loss, grief—crippled him for days, leaving him unable to even get out of bed. He sunk into a depression so low—still inhabited it, really—Albus feared for his life those first few days after it happened. Only the darkest humor, the comfort of his own familiar witty yet scathing remarks, and a Pensieve where he could rerun happy memories of a living Lily of the past helped distract him from the bleak reality. At least he no longer needed Dreamless Sleep and was no longer in danger of drinking himself into a coma.

Dumbledore's voice rose above the loud, indistinct murmur that comes from many people talking at once. Despite his power and influence, it seemed that he would have difficulty gaining a silent courtroom. The sweep of his power and the boom of his sonorous throughout the room did nothing to silence the low hum throughout the room. He plowed ahead anyway, directly addressing the Council. "Esteemed Colleagues and associates," he began, "today we have come together to discuss the fate of Severus Snape, aged twenty-one, current Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He stands accused of being a loyal acolyte of Lord Voldemort," here several people gasped at his use of the name, "of war crimes, of crimes against Muggles and Muggleborns, of murder, torture, and other despicable acts." The crowd jeered. "However, I have evidence to provide to the contrary…" the courtroom erupted in open outrage and contempt, with some calls to 'just send him to Azkaban with the rest already!'.

Just as it seemed as if the trial would go on for quite some time for lack of a willing audience, a quiet voice broke through the nearly deafening level of voices arguing back and forth so furiously that even Dumbledore had trouble getting a word in edgewise. "Let him speak."

The soft but firm request had come from somewhere near the top of the row, from the group of Elders from the Wizengamot who also served on the Council, many of whom were also from extremely old pureblood families: somewhere near Lady Griselda Marchbanks, Lady Augusta Longbottom, Lord Giuseppe Zabini, Lady Aria Gamp, Lord Tiberius Ogden, Lord Lachlan Abbott, Lord Hamish Macmillan, Lady Abigail Fawley, Lady Marcella Selwyn and Lord Ignatius Prewett. It was not yet a reprimand, but something in it told him it could easily turn into that if the voice was not heeded, judging by the way the room hushed when the mystery member spoke, bringing the masses to heel with a flex of quiet power.

Severus watched with amusement as Cornelius Fudge, a man hastily chosen to sit in as Interrogator who had stepped into his role just a few weeks after Bartimus Crouch's...unfortunate situation and fall from grace had him take a break from ruling the court with an iron fist, reddened but offered no form of protest, for once in his miserable life. The man embodied the dictionary definition of incompetence. As he turned back from him, he noticed that the devious twinkle he often saw in Dumbledore's eyes had come to life while his back was turned. His eyebrows rose as Dumbledore bowed toward the general direction of the collective body of Wizengamot officials serving on the council, though Severus supposed it was really toward whoever had cleared the floor for him. He still had yet to pick out the owner of that voice. Strange, that it had come from the Elder section despite sounding so youthful.

"Thank you, my Lady—?"

"Yolotli Aztecatl," she said, and now Severus could see her properly now that he was looking for her and expecting a response. She had an oddly alluring accent to her voice; deep honey brown eyes; tumbling, thick obsidian hair restrained in careful, elegant braids away from her striking face, which Severus noted held high cheekbones and the hint of an epicanthic fold around her eyes; and delicate, long lashes. She looked as if she were First Nations—indigenous, aboriginal, whatever word one used—if he could go by the pictures in his encyclopedia of magical traditions from around the world. She had what looked like a large feathered serpent hanging from a cord around her neck. Underneath her open plum Wizengamot robes he could see long, loose dark robes over a flowing golden gown that made her look like a living sunset with her russet terra-cotta skin. Anyone could see she was beautiful, but she had an allure about her not unlike that of a Veela, though far subtler. She leaned forward with earnest.

"Lady Aztecatl," Dumbledore inclined his head. Fudge had recovered somewhat and turned to her, blustering.

"Old One," he said, with what Severus realized was weary respect. "Pardon my intrusion, but this is clearly an open and shut case. Surely there are more pressing issues demanding your noble attentions than the trial of a known Death Eater?"

Severus saw her eyes flash, just for a moment, from normal human to something equally almost catlike and snakelike, though her face remained neutral and carefully restrained. "I appreciate your concern for my time, Sir Fudge, but as you know my...associate, Lord Kirkland, found such matters as these rather trying himself, and so asked around for a suitable replacement to sit in for him on Wizengamot matters. The Council is a quarter the body of the Wizengamot. I extended the offer to and his place, as I had grown bored and have far more political ambitions than he does. I find your world more interesting than others of my kind, as you might see the others who have seats missing from today's proceedings—Lady Bláithín ó Murchadha and Lord Ciarán ó Murchadha, of Northern Ireland and Ireland, Lord Alasdair MacGowan of Scotland, Lord Dylan Sion of Wales, and Lady Jenifer Marghek of Cornwall. I—"

"But your Grace, surely—" a chorus of gasps, a mixture of shock and outrage, depending on the spectator involved, filled the room. Evidently no one interrupted Lady Aztecatl, who Severus already quickly realized might not be fully human, if at all, before she started speaking of "her kind". He tried to hide his vindictive glee at the way Fudge, called Sir due to his Order of Merlin, seemed to realize his own political blunder.

"Really, Cornelius," he could just make out Madam Bones, the other Interrogator, saying, while Lady Aztecatl's eyes narrowed, flashing more clearly in irritation. "My intention, Sir Fudge, was to politely explain to you that how I spend my time is my decision and mine alone. I agree I could have done it quicker, but you've no need to be rude."

A few nervous chuckles, a grimace here or there, and a complete parlor change from Fudge. "My Lady, I didn't mean to insinuate—"

This time it was Lady Aztecatl cutting off Fudge, her voice sweet on the surface but edged and deadly like a viper. "I'm sure you didn't, Cornelius." She smiled at him in a way that rose the hair on Severus' neck and sent an icy shiver down his spine, then added, chillingly, "See that you do not repeat such presumptions."

Fudge audibly gulped and visibly stepped back in his box. "Of course my Lady."

More like a Basilisk than a viper, Severus mused, watching attentively while appearing not to do so. If anyone else had done such, barring the oldest and richest of purebloods, Severus was sure Fudge would have protested at the loss of his title or even his family name. Instead he meekly accepted her reprimand as she—quite clearly in front of everyone—put him in his place. She waved her hand dismissively. "Your manners are neither here nor there, Cornelius. I want to get on with the proceedings. This one seems interesting." A shudder passed through the room.

Severus has no idea what sort of magical creature heritage Lady Aztecatl had, but he could speculate. She clearly had power and authority she could wield ruthlessly and without pause for concern over backlash if the way she made an Order of Merlin recipient, which essentially amounted to a wizard with a knighthood, cower in front of the entire Council said anything about it. More to the point, perhaps, no one stepped up in the Fudge's defense. She had respect and fear on her side, too, although when she turned her full gaze onto Dumbledore, and by extension, Severus, who maintained his cool mask and Occluded heavily, just in case, the Supreme Mugwump showed no such fear.

"As you know, we took no sides in the war, at first," she said clearly but softly into a perfectly silent and attentive chamber. "We do not always concern ourselves with your affairs, though sometimes we must, when circumstance calls for it. We uphold the balance. We are the blood of the world. We are neither Light nor Dark, Good nor Evil, as you might judge."

She looked around the crowded, hushed courtroom. Severus realized, with a sinking feeling, what she probably was. An Undying, and here, of all places, presiding over his trial! She was right, that they rarely concerned themselves with everyday humdrum. None had been spotted for nearly half a century. "We almost intervened in your last war. If not for the tragic incident with the Potters that culminated in your Voldemort's death, we would have acted in this one after the Winter Solstice. We waited to see if the tide turned in favor of life itself." Here a few people made noises of surprise that they quickly stifled.

"Therefore some of us are interested in current affairs. And I, among a handful of others, most of all." She sent a small, displeased frown at Fudge, an obvious wordless rebuke about his earlier interruption. "Therefore," she concluded her speech, sitting back and clasping her hands on the low wall separating rows in front of her, "I wish to allow esteemed Chief Warlock Lord Dumbledore the room to speak. I believe he intended to present relevant testimony, when he was so rudely ignored." Uncomfortable shifting at her words, but no protests breaching the silence. She had total command of the masses without once lifting a finger to cast a spell.

Dumbledore dipped his head graciously a second time, lowering into bow. "I do, my dear Lady," he replied, "My personal testimony, including Pensieve memories, as to the status of Severus Snape counter to the levied charges and a plea to clear him of all charges." Startled exclamations filled the air, but one glance around the room from Lady Aztecatl quelled any disastrous dissent. She motioned for him to continue. Dumbledore delivered his testimony as to the character of Severus under her intent and watchful eye without a shred of uncertainty. When he reached the end, he requested that the Pensieve memories be viewed only after the room cleared of civilian attendees. One pointed glance from Lady Aztecatl simultaneously accompanied by the immediate and overwhelming support from the sect of the court that regularly allied with Dumbledore led to Fudge's hurried approval.

The room cleared, and Severus grit his teeth as they brought forth an empty Pensieve from an adjoining room. He resigned himself to being at Dumbledore's mercy. Merlin knew what memories he would choose to expose Severus' loyalty to him and the Order of the Phoenix. He only hoped nothing about Lily would be brought up. He would rather that the entire courtroom not see his pathetic groveling to Dumbledore the night he begged the old wizard to save Lily's life, leading to his eventual persuasion to work to save all the Potters and turn spy. The last curious onlooker left, glaring hatefully at Severus over his shoulder as he did so. Severus gifted him his nastiest sneer that plainly said fuck you. Dumbledore cast a charm to detect any lingering lifeforms, in case someone decided to risk Lady Aztecatl and the court's wrath after all and hide, then strong privacy charms went up to prevent eavesdropping from outside. "Severus Snape is a spy of mine, rather than a true Death Eater." Several Council members displayed their blatant shock. Lady Aztecatl merely continued looking at them, as steady as a mountain in a storm. The day something threw her was the day the mountains blew in the wind like leaves.

He soon found out to his intense relief he would save some face. Dumbledore chose other just as revealing, but thankfully far less embarrassing, memories that depicted him acting on Dumbledore's orders, or reporting to him, among other things. At various points during the viewing he glanced up at Lady Aztecatl, her plump lips pursed in concentration. One of her hands twirled her wand—he noted that it looked to be made of an unfamiliar wood— between her delicate-looking fingers, fingers he knew were really strong enough to crush his windpipe without much of an effort at all. He wondered what about him piqued her interest. Why had she come down so firmly on his side—or at least, for letting Dumbledore plead his case? Did she get bored so easily? And where had she come from, exactly? Her name gave away her foreign origins.

He pondered all the unanswered questions spinning around in his mind, chaos leashed carefully beneath his shields and his own mental discipline. He missed the exact moment that their eyes met, but suddenly found himself meeting hers, stare for stare. A mere moment later was as if he had been struck by lightning the moment they looked into each other's eyes, though he felt no magical attack, no mental intrusion, no physical malady. He held himself carefully still. Had she done this? But no. Her eyes were intense, though normal in appearance at the moment. He saw that she had started to arch one delicate eyebrow, but instead a curious expression overtook her beautiful features. A look of confusion, then realization, and then a focus more driven than her initial intensity.

Severus swallowed. He had no idea what had just happened, but he had little faith it would go unaccounted for with her involved. Just then Dumbledore finished presenting his testimony, forcing both Severus and Lady Aztecatl to turn their attention to him, although it was a different member of the Council who spoke—the other Interrogator, Madam Amelia Bones. "That sounds perfectly reasonable, Lord Dumbledore," Madam Bones conceded. "If you've nothing further, and if no one else has questions, I think we shall vote. All in favor of total acquittal of the accused?" Given the extent of her involvement courtesy of her push to have Dumbledore's testimony heard, Severus didn't think it came as a surprise to anyone when Lady Aztecatl raised her right hand into the air, her glimmering bracelet, which he realized was made from labradorite, falling gently down her wrist. Other hands soon followed. All the Elders on the Council, and most of the younger members, too, such as Lord Cyan Brown and Lady Iona Potts, threw their support behind the notion, ultimately numbering over half overall. Enough votes that the dissenting opinion mattered little, with no real need to tally it.

Madam Bones adjourned the meeting with the proclamation of the official verdict. "That will be all, Miss MacDonald, thank you," she said graciously, addressing a witch sitting nearby who could only be the court scribe. Severus glanced over and nearly lost his composure. Severus realized with a start that the court scribe, who he had not spared a glance at until that moment, was Mary MacDonald. She met his surprised stare as she turned from Madam Bones. Her lips set in a thin, firm line and she left without a word. Severus swallowed, throat suddenly thick. He remembered that she had nearly died in a Death Eater assault against known Muggleborns—one which the Potters personally countered. More than that, he remembered her from school, and her friendship with Lily when she was still just Lily Evans.

Severus had no time to dwell on such thoughts. The magical chains binding him fell away and the nearest Auror—Dawlish, he thought—heaved him to his feet and pushed him toward Dumbledore. "He's all yours, Lord Dumbledore." He sounded deeply disappointed about that fact. "Lucky he turned spy for you."

"Indeed," was all Dumbledore said. His eyes twinkled as he looked at Severus, beaming. He heartily clasped him on the shoulder. "Come, Severus. Let us return to Hogwarts."

He moved his hand down to Severus' arm and began leading him toward a private exit usually reserved for Wizengamot members themselves, presumably to avoid the crowds of people waiting outside the doors to the courtroom. All of the courtrooms had similar setups to ensure the safety of the people serving as judges and jurors both. They had almost reached the discreet exit when that alluring voice called out to them.

"Lord Dumbledore, Lord Prince, please allow me to escort you."

Severus snorted at the idea of them truly having a choice as they paused and turned to face her. She flowed across the floor like clear water over rocks in a stream-bed. It looked as if her feet barely touched the ground, though Severus knew logically it was only her robes and shining gown that had that effect. Her grace, however, was obvious. Up close he could see that she was even more beautiful, and that the feathered serpent nestled in the hollow of her throat had more Labradorite as eyes. He also noticed the shifting of the fabric on her shoulders that heralded the appearance of a stunning, brilliantly-scaled feathered serpent as it slowly rose out over the edge of her robe collar, no doubt a familiar. It sprawled comfortably across her shoulders, clearly at home there, all royal purple and sapphire blue and emerald green, gleaming iridescently.

As Severus watched, its head, which had peeked out of her collar and startled him only moments before, swayed as it looked directly at him. It let out a long, low hiss that made him nervous. He did not expect Lady Aztecatl to utter an answering hiss. A Parselmouth, he thought, mentally reeling behind his shields, though Dumbledore must have known because it didn't seem to faze him in the slightest. In the past Severus had witnessed the Dark Lord speaking to serpents in their own tongue more often than he'd like, mostly because the Dark Lord often commanded his to act as spies or assassins. There was nothing innately malevolent or threatening about this conversation, though, whatever it was. Yolotli seemed amused, if anything, although he had no way to judge her companion's reptilian expression. He ignored his nervousness, pushing past it. "I am no Lord," he replied, curtailing the bite he usually instilled in his voice. "And no Prince."

She came to a stop in front of them, that curious expression skittering into view. She concealed it quickly, but not quickly enough for Severus to avoid seeing it. Her hand went to stroke the head of the serpent, who preened under the attention. Her eyes on him seemed to ask some unspoken question, but when she spoke she held it back, whatever it was. "Perhaps, perhaps not. There was a time when the Prince family held a regular seat on the Wizengamot, but Lady Eleonor Prince was notably absent today. Perhaps to not show prejudice?"

Her eyes sparkled, though in a different way than Dumbledore's annoying twinkling. She knew, somehow, about his wizarding family and she was teasing him with the information, Severus thought. Severus felt a flush rise to his cheeks. "I assure you, Lady, that she would not have voted in my favor, nor would she have claimed the halfblood bastard of her disgraced daughter."

Lady Aztecatl's beautiful face fell. "I did not mean to cause offense."

Severus scowled out of habit, but politely forgave her. She would, after all, be a terrible enemy to make and he was a Slytherin if nothing else. "No great offense, my Lady." He paused, considering. "How did you come to know of my...heritage?"

She smiled serenely, and Severus ignored the way it made her glow. "The other Elders were discussing it just before the start of the trial." How strange to hear someone so youthful in appearance include themself in the category of Elder. Then again, the woman standing before him might very well be old enough to be his great-grandmother or better. "You know it was Lord Prince, not Lady Prince, née Levi, who banished Eileen. Eleonor wasn't even at home at the time. When she returned she was furious, but it was too late." Her smile grew more gentle, more compassionate, and a little sad. "They had a terrible fight about it. She wore him down until he came around, then tried finding your mother, but by that time Eileen had disappeared into the Muggle world. Eleonor never got over losing Eileen and you, her child. She...I think it was too much for her to bear, to see you here. But I know she wants to see you. She still talks about you. If you ever decide you want to reach out...all is not lost."

Severus stared at her hard, looking for any sign that she was lying to him, though he could think of no motives she might have to do so outside of abject cruelty and a desire to play games with the minds of poor halfblood bastards. "I appreciate the information," he said finally, unsure of how to respond. He filed the information away for later, just in case.

He guessed she sensed his dis-ease but gestured toward the door amiably as if she did not notice it, nor his despite-himself-slightly-stunned expression, or Dumbledore's damn twinkle. "Shall we?" And she ushered them from the room, with Severus unsure how he felt about, perhaps, being a little less alone in the world, about his mother being less alone in the world, about the possibility of reconciliation.