Quentin took a moment to glance up at Althea, a moment to breath and anchor himself back to reality. A step to stopping himself from spiraling out of control. The more he talked about the past, the more likely he was to forget what exactly he was working towards. Forget the lie that he was trying to sell. Even though he would have preferred for Vincent not to be there, part of him was thankful that the boy was as he reminded him why he was doing this. His family. Not the one he had grown up in, no that had fallen apart long ago. The family that he had built with Althea. They were what mattered the most to him. If he had to lie to keep them, then he would lie as much as necessary.
“At any point did you consider leaving the Death Eaters, turning yourself in, or reporting known members? If so, why didn’t you?” The question caused him to pause for a moment. Just how much should he reveal? Too much, and remaining members that might slip through the cracks could come after him. If he started listing off names now, would that appear to be a pathetic attempt to clear his own? Everything with the war should be over now, but there were so many unknowns. At the same time, there were so many possibilities now. Possibilities that he was sure Vincent would have that he just didn’t. Each and everyone was something he wanted to see some day, and hoped he would get the chance.
“I thought about all of that.” A small stir in the crowd. It was as if they were reacting to everything he said, every small glance and head movement. He wondered for a moment who was all up there but it was too hard to tell from how he sat. Quentin also didn’t bother looking at anyone who wasn’t Althea or the members of the Wizengamot. “Except I couldn’t. When you’re being controlled, you can’t do anything they don’t want you to do. Even during times that I wasn’t being controlled, I knew that if I stepped out of line it wouldn’t affect just me but my wife as well.” He let out a shaky breath, though it was hardly noticeable as he kept his voice steady. “Now we have a son, and if my actions had caused something to happen to either of them, then I don’t know what I would have done. So yes I considered all those things. But this wasn’t just about me.”
Murmuring, deliberating among the members. Nodding. Were they nodding because he was guilty, or because he was proven innocent? It was impossible to tell with the steady increase in restlessness among the crowd. It felt as if everything had lasted for hours, though he knew that it might’ve been five minutes at most. Silence was called for, signalling that they were moving forward. Whether that meant further questioning or the end of the trial was unknown until Crouch started to speak. “In regards to the charges brought against Quentin Aldric Crabbe,” He spoke out. “The court has found him to be not guilty on all counts.” The reactions were almost deafening. “Court dismissed” The statement was hardly heard. Though as the Wizengamot stood, Quentin was also pulled away and out of the courtroom.
He waited anxiously as they released his binds. Letting him go and he heard murmurs of what seemed like an apology of sorts. He didn’t bother paying attention to them though, or the people he passed on his walk to find Althea. They’d been together before the trial but it still felt like they’d been apart for weeks. Going past other people also meant ignoring all of the comments they made towards him, obviously not convinced by what he’d said. Since the Wizengamot had found him innocent, there was nothing they could do. Instead he blocked them out, something that became easier as he laid his eyes on Althea. Opening his mouth to say something, no words came out as he wrapped his arms around her, being careful not to squish Vincent who was still in her arms.
“At any point did you consider leaving the Death Eaters, turning yourself in, or reporting known members? If so, why didn’t you?” Althea held her breath, silently willing Quentin to tell the truth but forcing herself not to coach him from the stands. It was difficult to hold her head still when it would have been so easy to nod along encouragingly, and she had to remind herself that doing so would only negate his response. The longer he paused to mull the question over, however, the more Althea feared Quentin wasn’t sure how to answer, too focused on trying to say what he thought the Wizengamont wanted to hear. She needn’t have worried. His words rang with the sincere honesty she had found so familiar over their years together, something that couldn’t be faked even if there were so many present today who would have liked to think so.
When Quentin mentioned her and their son, Althea felt the crowds turn to glance her way, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from his, fighting to keep her tears at bay as her arms wrapped protectively around Vincent. Everything Quentin had done, he had done for her and for their son. How many times had they whispered of running away? Of Quentin switching sides as she had? And yet he had never done so, for her sake and for the sake of the precious boy bundled in her arms. To betray the Dark Lord would have meant forfeiting everything, starting over from scratch, and rebuilding their lives. That they would have done gladly if it hadn’t also meant putting their lives on the line along with Vincent’s. The moment Quentin had switched sides, they would have been marked as traitors, hunted by those who had once been their comrades in arms, their neighbors, their friends, their own family. No one lived once the Dark Lord marked them for death. No one, except for one little boy.
The murmurs pulled Althea from her thoughts, and she tore her gaze from her husband to glance around the room, trying to gauge the reactions of those around her. Curious whispers, suspicious glances, and resigned nods passed between members of the Wizengamont and Althea sent silent, pleading prayers to whoever might be listening for the verdict to be an innocent one. Vincent squirmed in her arms, his small fingers again curling around a strand of her hair but she couldn’t be bothered to stop him from tugging on it, as it was a welcome distraction from the way her stomach curled in knots. She glanced down at him, her thumb brushing a rosy cheek before smoothing his dark curls so very like his father’s. How unbothered he was, unaware of the severity of the situation their little family had found themselves in, and how their very futures hung in the balance. The suspense was too much, and yet Althea would have lived in that moment forever if it meant prolonging the worst, her breath again catching as the Wizengamont called for silence.
“In regards to the charges brought against Quentin Aldric Crabbe, the court has found him to be not guilty on all counts.” The sea of onlookers around Althea seemed to explode as witches and wizards jumped to their feet, yelling words of protest at the verdict, and yet Althea paid them no mind. Though her features remained resolute, she could feel the hot tears of relief spilling down her cheeks as she, too, rose to her feet, watching as Quentin was pulled from the room. It was then that she realized she had no idea as to where they would take him. Another holding room perhaps? Or would they release him into the crowd so angry to see him walk free? Spinning on her heel, she pushed her way through the crowds, wiping the tears from her cheeks before journalists could snap pictures, and pushed her way back into the corridors she had walked only a short while ago but now without the heavy weight of the trial hanging on her shoulders. Voices called out to her, trying to halt her in her tracks for a word about the verdict, but Althea only pushed her way between them, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the flashes of cameras, until she found who she was looking for.
While she had been so painfully aware of those around her watching as she searched, the moment she laid eyes on Quentin, it was as if they all melted away. She ignored the continuous shouts as her pace quickened and she very nearly ran into Quentin’s arms. Her free arm clutched him tightly as more tears spilled down her cheeks and silent sobs shook her body. “Thank goodness…. oh Merlin… thank goodness…” she cried, her words muffled against his shoulder. “Quentin-“ Her fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his shirt as she held all of the words she might have said at bay, tucking them away for later when there weren’t so many curious onlookers. The shouts around them seemed to fade uncomfortably, though whether that was out of some sort of reluctant respect for the reunion they were witnessing, or a morbid curiosity to hear what was said between them, Althea didn’t know and she didn’t much care so long as Quentin was free.
