Chapter Eighty-Seven: The Trial

“In the last century, there was a wizard named Radolphus Lestrange from the Lestrange family who became Minister for Magic. He once conducted a thorough review of the research conducted by the Department of Mysteries,” Sandrine introduced the origins of the family’s information about the Department of Mysteries to Sheehan.

“This Minister from the Lestrange family was quite opinionated. He believed that the Department of Mysteries’ research had no direct impact on the development of the wizarding world, and thus saw no reason for the department’s existence,” Sandrine said.

“He obviously failed, didn’t he?” Sheehan asked. “Or did a later Minister reopen the Department of Mysteries?”

“Yes, he failed utterly.” Sandrine sneered with a touch of disdain. “His orders had no effect whatsoever on the Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries. In fact, you could say that as Minister, he was completely ignored.”

“What a miserable fate for a Minister,” Sheehan observed, pausing a moment in silent commiseration before continuing curiously, “Are the staff in the Department of Mysteries really called Unspeakables? That’s a rather odd name.”

“It’s due to the highly confidential nature of their work. These Unspeakables have no social lives, no entertainment, and rarely even families of their own. Most spend their entire lives absorbed in research within the Department, like madmen,” Sandrine explained.

“With the little information I have, I know that the Department of Mysteries investigates many of the world’s greatest secrets, generally divided into five areas—Time, Space, Death, Thought, and Love. Anything else is strictly off-limits.”

“Wait a minute, the other categories are understandable, but how do you research something as abstract as ‘love’?” Sheehan was now bewildered, unable to grasp what this enigmatic department truly studied. The others made sense, but how could ‘love’—an emotion—be studied as a separate field?

‘Are there lots of psychologists among the Unspeakables?’ Sheehan wondered. But that couldn’t be right—how could someone with no social life or family make a good psychologist? Did they really understand what ‘love’ was?

“I have no idea, I’m simply relaying what’s recorded in the archives,” Sandrine shrugged. “If you’re interested, you’ll have to become Minister for Magic someday. But listen, I’ll never allow you to become an Unspeakable—one of those lunatics, you hear me?”

Sheehan nodded. “Don’t worry! Honestly, I have no desire to be Minister for Magic, much less take up such a strange career as an Unspeakable.”

Only then did Sandrine relax. Knowing Sheehan’s deep interest in magical research, she’d always feared her son might one day have a wild impulse to join the Department of Mysteries.

And Sheehan hadn’t lied. Although he hadn’t told the whole truth, he really had no interest in being either Minister for Magic or an Unspeakable.

The Minister’s role required constant socializing, balancing relationships among all levels of subordinates, and always being on edge in case a new Dark Lord emerged with ambitions to control the Ministry… It was a stressful and dangerous job!

As for the Unspeakables, they had no entertainment and were research fanatics bordering on madness. He’d seen people like that in Kamar-Taj as well—most so obsessed with advanced magical studies that they became estranged from everyone, even losing themselves. Sheehan preferred to keep his distance from such types.

What interested him were the results of the Department’s research. “Love,” “Thought,” and “Death” were abstract and could wait, but the studies of Time and Space were of genuine value.

Having learned the Department of Mysteries researched “Time,” Sheehan immediately understood the force that had always seemed familiar to him, stirring his heart with its resonance.

It was the power of Time!

In the temple in the Himalayas, countless times, he’d sensed the power of Time from the Eye of Agamotto hanging around the Ancient One’s neck. Even when his soul left that universe, his teacher had used the Eye’s power to shield him from the universe’s rifts.

The impression of time magic was deeply etched in Sheehan’s mind. Although the force in the Department of Mysteries differed slightly from that of the Eye of Agamotto, in essence, they were similar. He could be certain—that feeling that made his heart race was indeed the power of Time!

…

Having sensed the power of Time in this world, Sheehan was distracted throughout the trial, his mind preoccupied.

His past experiences had taught him how troublesome time magic could be. Now that this power was right before his eyes, how could he obtain a sample for research?

Becoming an Unspeakable was out of the question, and in any case, it would be at least seven years before he’d even qualify—they’d never allow him to wait that long.

As for becoming a Ministry official, he had zero interest to begin with, and even then, the Department of Mysteries would never hand over samples for his research. Besides, that path required even more time and seniority than becoming an Unspeakable—the Ministry valued nothing more than credentials!

At that moment, a thought suddenly burst into Sheehan’s mind and grew wild and unchecked like a weed.

What if he could forge his own Sling Ring? The Ministry likely couldn’t defend against a spatial spell unknown to them, so could he simply walk into the Department of Mysteries at will? Would the power of Time then be his for the taking?

Sheehan was startled by his own train of thought and forcibly suppressed the idea.

He kept telling himself that this was wrong, that such thoughts had no place in his mind. If he truly infiltrated the Department of Mysteries to seize the power of Time, how would that be any different from theft?

He exhaled deeply, dispelling those errant thoughts from his mind. Then, with a self-deprecating smile, he thought, ‘I haven’t even managed to make a Sling Ring yet—what am I doing entertaining such nonsense?’

He forced a wry smile and turned his attention back to the trial, which was now drawing to a close.

…

The trial proceeded more smoothly than anyone could have expected. Professor Lorre and his two companions made no attempt to deny their crimes, nor did they hide the fact that they’d been acting under Grindelwald’s orders.

Minister Hector Flee was quite satisfied with their cooperative attitude. He even allowed himself a small, pleased smile in court.

Once the three had confessed, he pronounced the sentence with satisfaction: “I hereby declare that the principal offender, Claude Lorre, for crimes including the destruction of public property, disturbing the order of the wizarding world, endangering public safety, and eight others—a total of eleven charges—is sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban.

“Accomplice Jerome Trifoliate, for the illegal breeding of magical creatures, injuring professors, and five other charges—a total of seven—is sentenced to twenty years in Azkaban.

“Accomplice Yorelli Gimenez, for malicious use of Unforgivable Curses, deliberate infiltration of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and four other charges—a total of six—is sentenced to fifteen years in Azkaban!”

After reading out the verdict, Minister Flee looked at the three and asked, “Do you have any objections?”

At these words, Professor Lorre suddenly raised his head and said in a low voice, “I have something to say.”

“Speak your mind—if you don’t, you won’t get another chance,” Minister Flee replied magnanimously with a wave of his hand.

Professor Lorre nodded, then suddenly turned to the witness stand, a wicked smile curling his lips.

“Rozier, you will change your mind!”

…

…