Note: this idea came upon me suddenly and wouldn't go away. Yes, at the beginning there's talk of corporal punishment, and I don't endorse that in any means. It's only there to add to the… atmosphere of the piece. Please note that there should be more chapters to this (depending, of course, on my writing mood.) It's not exactly meant to stand alone, but it does that well enough anyway. Now rewritten!

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Seamus pulls on the robe over his head and it catches on his ear. Tugging it down, he sees Dean silently laughing. "Be quiet, you."

"Wouldn't want to insult the grand high mufti of the great house of Gryffindor's supreme and solemn court, would I?"

"Actually, I think that's a better name than High Judge of Gryffindor House. Why did Colin make up those titles anyway?" Seamus smoothes out the black fabric over his shirt and jeans and looks in the mirror, glad it can't talk, because he looks like he has gone without sleep for a week.

"I think it was a joke, back when we didn't know what we were doing."

The former prefect's room is quiet at that, as Seamus rakes his fingers through his hair and Dean leans against the uncomfortable wooden molding around the door. Finally Seamus speaks again. "How do you think they'll sentence him?"

"I'm a juror, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Right." Seamus flushes slightly. "Well, what do you think?"

Dean lowers his voice, even though the room is empty besides the two of them, and fiddles with his collar with his left hand. "Probably just some late night duty or early morning breakfast help. Nothing much."

"You don't think he'll be—"

There is a heavy silence as both remember.

"Nah. Unless Colin and Kohler somehow decide to gang up on him. But the House as a whole—you know what they want. That group of Third Years that keep yelling at him—"

Seamus can tell Dean is interested, even if this is only petty politics, because his eyes light up like when he is talking about football. "But you don't really think that it'll happen, right?" he asks, only for confirmation.

"Right, unless Colin has some new insight into the case. We talked about it before with Kohler and he says he'll go along with whatever we decide."

"Some legal system." Seamus begins to collect the small things that he had removed from his pocket and placed on the bedside table—a few Knuts, a scrap of paper with nothing on it, and a large, brass key.

"At least we have a jury. It's better than what you wanted in the first place. A one-man judiciary?"

"Shut up," says Seamus, and after a short pause adds peremptorily, "Hermione and Ginny wanted to come, remember? Tell them it'll be in a few minutes, fifteen or something. Is the Code in the girls' room?"

Dean nods. "I think. Maybe."

They walk out of the room together, rather closely, because the doorway isn't big enough for two to fit comfortably through at the same time.

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"The High Court of the Gryffindor House is now in session."

There had been some whispers previous to this, between the judge and the jury, about the mysteriously missing Kohler—Colin was of the opinion that he had skipped out on jury duty to go snog his girlfriend—but they had come to the conclusion that it was better to get it over with and so Hermione, Ginny, and Edwards had been called to the abandoned storage room.

The room is dark, lit only by two large candles on a scratched desk. Shadows cloak the dusty corners and a few overturned desks are pushed off to a side; in the cleared area in the middle sit five people on an array of rickety chairs. Two are close together, as though huddling for warmth in the room, and they seem to be conversing quietly without words. Two others, older girls, sit up straight in their chairs, looking up at the desk; they both wear their streaked robes with a sense of dignity. In the middle of the two groups is a small boy, perhaps only 11 years old, pulling at the frayed edge of his right sleeve.

"Gregory Edwards."

The boy looks up at the desk and abruptly lets the loose threads he has pulled from his shirt fall to the floor. They float slowly through the air in a disparate clump before being eaten up by the darkness. The two figures which had been leaning together separate and look intently at the person behind the desk with tired eyes.

"You stand here accused of passing messages from Ravenclaw House to members of Gryffindor not associated with the Circle. What do you say in response?"

Hermione stands up suddenly and her chair skids on the floor behind her. "Why's there so much ritual with this? I don't know why we ever chose you to be the judge—"

She leaves her sentence hanging knowing that those in the room will finish it for her: because Harry Potter thought he was good enough, and there's too many gone or dead to argue about it now and we don't dare dirty his memory.

"It's simply not necessary—we don't need to make him feel more uncomfortable than he already is." She regains her stride and looks at the boy warmly. "Even if he is passing messages, you know that it could only be a good thing…we all know that if the Ravenclaws are coming to us it means that they look for an alliance. If it's anybody's fault they aren't coming to the Circle it's only yours."

Her face flushes as she realizes she's said too much right now and she takes her seat again, her hands nervously twisting in her lap, wanting to say more but feeling that this isn't the time, that she isn't even part of the actual proceedings.

"As we said, Mr. Edwards, what do you have to say in response to this accusation?"

Dean stifles a laugh in response to Seamus' phrasing and Colin glances over at the two girls, a smile playing on his lips.

The boy looks up and the fringe of hair that had been over his forehead falls back as he cranes his neck. "You know I did it. You caught me at it. Why are you asking me?"

His defiance raises the tension in the room. Hermione stares right at Seamus, as if wanting to relay a message, her gaze sometimes darting over to the hushed pair of the jury who have resumed their silent conversation. Her companion pats her shoulder futilely and she shrugs it off, keeping her eyes fixed on the person sitting at the desk.

"Fine, then. You're guilty."

The boy hunches down in his chair and both the girls quickly get up to comfort him, shielding him from what they think is the harsh look of the judge. The jury now looks intently at the desk again, seemingly in wait for their part in the play.

"There are three punishments established in the Circle's Code to deal with your infraction." A pile of hastily bound parchments is pulled from the side of the desk to the front. Its title page has scrawled writing on it in large letters, and then it is hidden as the book is opened.

"The first is extended night watches. These can be performed at either the West Knight hallway where the door is being warded—or, I guess, trying to be warded—or at the already-protected East Barricade on the fourth floor."

They boy manages to push both Hermione and Ginny away from their almost suffocating presence and, as he refuses to look up, they stand behind him in front of the door and share a worried look.

"The second option is reduced rations. We've found that this is detrimental to the health of the sentenced and therefore this punishment isn't applicable in this case. In fact—oh, Hermione, would you remember to get some amendment down to get it off the books entirely?"

Ginny pretends to be aghast at the breach of professionalism as Hermione releases a relieved breath and pushes her hair behind her shoulders. "Judge, would you stick to proper language?"

Hermione looks down her nose, or at least tries to, at Seamus. "Thank Merlin. At least you have some sense in you, Seamus Finnegan."

The judge shrugs and continues to enumerate the last and oft-talked of but rarely used punishment. Hermione knows that much of the House has been talking of it—many, sadly enough, in anticipation, for whatever reason. Surely her classmates weren't like that in third year…

"Harry Potter himself gave the Circle permission to use the following disciplinary measure when he departed. Although there has been much outcry about it, there is still the possibility that one may be strapped."

A pregnant pause follows the last word and then Seamus speaks again. "It should be noted that we do not endorse the use of corporal punishment and've only used it twice. Therefore, jurors, take heed in determining the punishment of Gregory."

The two jurors step back from the lit circle and stand in almost complete dusk. The pieta of the two girls and the boy is static before Seamus, presiding over the room, who lets out a deep sigh and twists his head to look out the room's only window, directly behind him. The night outside is black and moonless. The judge returns to look upon the scene below him and watches the two jurors return, the shorter in front of the other.

"Colin, what has the jury decided?"

A somewhat high-pitched voice answers. "We have determined that it is in the best interests of the community of Gryffindor House that the boy be strapped to present an example to others."

The judge raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Yes. Well, then."

The girls stand protectively around the boy, who, upon hearing the verdict, has curled himself up impossibly small on the chair in a mixture of sad innocence and defiance. They look at the Colin and Dean, who have resumed a whispered conversation, with amazement, both together in their sentiments. As Seamus steps down from the raised platform that the desk sits on Ginny states what seems to be their joint feeling on the issue.

"It's—shocking!" Hermione thinks she sounds rather too much like her mother right then. "Really, I can't believe that Harry would've wanted us to hurt a First Year who was only doing what he thought was right. He left us to try to find what was wrong outside of the castle and the four Houses—but see here what's wrong on the inside! Think about Dumbledore and McGonagall, when the Great Hall was filled with light and there was actual order. This is—this is a sham!"

Her impassioned plea goes seemingly unnoticed and Seamus takes the boy by the shoulder. "It—oh, it won't be that bad, and when it's done you'll seem almost like a hero."

They leave the room together, back down the dark hallway to the Common Room where the punishment will take place. The two jurors leave immediately afterwards, clumped together, before they can be yelled at. The two girls are left alone in the silent courtroom, among the overturned desks and the semicircle of chairs. Ginny goes and, pulling a worn candlestick from her pocket, lights it from the left of the two large candles on the desk.

"It's a pity that we don't have our wands. A quick Lumos…"

She blows out the candles on the desk and her face is only lit by the one she holds tightly in her hand. She takes the hand of her companion and squeezes it in reassurance. Hermione seems to be holding back tears, and when they leave the room close together for comfort she reaches back to slam the door shut.

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