Veritaserum—or in other words, truth serum—was a highly regulated magical concoction, strictly controlled and monitored by both the ICW and individual magical governments around the world.
Only after meticulous review and explicit approval from the very top of the ladder—high councils or the Minister himself—could this potion be legally administered.
Its reliability was unquestionable. No wizard or witch in their right mind doubted its accuracy. And when the hoarse, heavy voice of Sirius Black, full of remorse, echoed through the cavernous courtroom under its influence, an eerie silence fell over the Wizengamot and the audience above them.
In that moment, all uncertainty vanished. No one could deny the truth anymore. The real traitor stood exposed, and his guilt was undeniable—the potion had stripped away every last lie.
Crouch demanded that Peter Pettigrew also submit to Veritaserum and recount the events from his own perspective. But the rat refused outright, panicked and trembling, and under ICW regulations, the potion couldn't be forced without the subject's consent—so the courtroom got no testimony from him.
But it hardly mattered. Sirius's words, given under Veritaserum, had already laid everything bare beyond doubt, and Crouch insisting that Peter take the potion was little more than a formality.
"Peter Pettigrew," Crouch's voice boomed across the chamber, cold and unflinching after Pettigrew's final refusal—even when offered leniency for cooperation. "You stand accused of the most heinous and unforgivable crimes… revealing the secret whereabouts of the Potters to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, an act that directly led to their brutal murders; and the wanton, unconscionable killing of multiple innocent Muggles."
"For these cumulative crimes against the wizarding world and its very values, the recommended sentence is…" He paused, sweeping his gaze first over the cowering rat, then across the councilors, before finally declaring, "Execution!"
As Barty Crouch's chilling words reverberated through the Wizengamot chamber, an eerie, drawn-out silence fell over the courtroom. Many in attendance stared in disbelief at Crouch's stern, unyielding face, their expressions a mixture of shock and dawning comprehension—including the stunned Sirius Black, seated on the opposite side.
So many Death Eaters, guilty of heinous and unforgivable crimes, had been tried and sentenced—always to life in Azkaban's soul-draining confines—and Sirius had expected the same fate for the rat as well.
Yet here was the very same Bartemius Crouch, the man who had personally condemned many such dark wizards to Azkaban, including himself, now proposing that Pettigrew face the death sentence. Sirius stared at him, caught between disbelief, resentment, and… gratitude he couldn't yet name.
Maverick, watching from above, was also taken aback by the sudden call for execution, since he, too, had assumed the worst Pettigrew would face was life in prison. Besides, he didn't want the rodent dead just yet; he still had plans for the rat, and if Pettigrew were killed, he would have to overhaul a good part of his blueprint.
His expression grew increasingly cold as he contemplated the implications, wondering whether to ask Jameson to object to the sentence. But realizing that the jury—or the council—would first have to vote in order for the sentencing to pass, he brushed the thought aside for now and glanced sideways at Dumbledore beside him.
Surely the old man wouldn't be okay with execution—he was Albus Dumbledore, after all.
Sure enough, he saw that the old man looked just as surprised by the sentence, one brow arched at the Adjudicator's chair below.
"Headmaster..." Maverick asked, carefully wording his thoughts and speaking only loud enough for the three at their table to hear. "I've never known the Wizengamot to hand down death sentences. Even over a decade ago, those ruthless fanatics only got life in Azkaban... never execution. What do you make of this?"
"Indeed…" Dumbledore murmured, stroking his chin. "It may be that Sirius Black's wrongful imprisonment—a grave mistake, a blemish upon Barty Crouch's record, second only to the shame his own misguided son brought upon him—has driven him to severity in this case. Yet I doubt the council will follow him so far. Let us wait and see what the assembly decides."
"Your Excellency, the Adjudicator. According to the established laws and precedents of the British Magical Constitution, he should be sentenced to life imprisonment, not execution."
It was Rufus Scrimgeour who broke the silence first. Shaking off his stunned daze, he rose sharply from his chair and voiced the objection.
At once, the full impact of Bartemius Crouch's unprecedented sentence rippled through the chamber. Since Maverick had first entered these chambers, he had not yet seen such uproar—not even when Fudge had been stripped of his seat—as a cacophony of voices erupted from the assembled witches and wizards.
He wondered why they were so against the death sentence, as a lot of these politicians weren't exactly saints—some were outright former Death Eaters—and yet they acted as if executing a convicted murderer was some unspeakable taboo.
He scoffed at the spectacle, watching the pathetic drama unfold. Politicians were all the same, muggle or magical, always trying to put on a saintly face.
"What is your opinion on this matter, Speaker Dumbledore… will the council approve… or…" Lord Greengrass also inquired, his gaze flicking briefly toward Maverick.
Jameson was fully aware of Maverick's plans for Peter Pettigrew—what had been arranged for the rat once he was sentenced to life in Azkaban. But with Dumbledore present, he couldn't speak his mind freely.
Nonetheless, he wasn't worried, because from the looks of it, Crouch's recommended sentence wouldn't pass, and Pettigrew would likely receive life imprisonment instead, just as Maverick had expected.
"The death penalty is a punishment of grave and irreversible finality, one that has lain dormant for many years within our British wizarding world. To set such a precedent with Peter Pettigrew would be to invite a torrent of unforeseen consequences and bitter controversies—burdens that, I fear, you, Mr. Minister, could ill afford."
"Headmaster is right, Jameson," Maverick added. "If I were you, I wouldn't risk letting this happen—not with laws so loose and full of loopholes in the Constitution. There's a high chance more cases like this could follow."
"You're right…" the new Minister of Magic murmured after a moment's thought. But just as he was about to raise an objection, Barty had swiftly cut him off. Perhaps he had noticed, from the corner of his eye, the discussion unfolding—the frown on Lord Greengrass's face—and guessed the minister might take a controversial stance.
Better to get it over with quickly, Barty decided, and with an insistent gesture, he called for an immediate vote from the assembled council members, allowing no further discourse or debate on the matter.
"Now, let the esteemed members of the council cast their votes without further delay!"
And sure enough, barely any of the councilors raised their hands in favor of the death sentence. Only a handful did, mostly those considered radicals when it came to notions of right and wrong. Needless to say, none of the pureblood fanatics' hands went up—they certainly didn't want to be next in line if, somehow, they were to face such a trial in the future.
But Bartemius Crouch didn't seem unhappy with the outcome, almost as if he had expected it. Or perhaps… this was merely a performance. Barty Crouch never truly expected the members of the Wizengamot to approve execution for Peter Pettigrew; he only wanted to assert his firm stance.
Meanwhile, Pettigrew's muddled mind finally began to clear as the implications sank in. He covered his face with trembling hands, not daring to look but too afraid to hear the outcome, wanting to know first. Fortunately for him, his miserable life was spared—for now—and his wailing subsided, if only momentarily.
"Very well then…" Barty Crouch declared, his stern face betraying no hint of emotion or disappointment at the outcome. "Those in favor of sentencing Peter Pettigrew to lifelong imprisonment, raise your hands accordingly."
This time, the vast majority of the Wizengamot raised their hands in solemn affirmation, supporting the more measured proposal of a lifetime behind bars for the rodent.
Upon witnessing this, Peter broke into wails once more—not out of fear of execution this time, but out of sheer terror at the thought of spending the rest of his life under the merciless watch of Dementors.
With the council having decided his fate, the rat was promptly seized and dragged away by the grim-faced Aurors who had been guarding him, to be escorted first to the chamber that housed the portkey to Azkaban.
Now that Peter's fate had been settled, it was time for the sentencing of Sirius Black. After all, he was still a convicted criminal.
Maverick, watching from above, had assumed the trial would wrap up quickly now that Peter Pettigrew, the true traitor, had been sentenced to life in Azkaban. All that remained was to clear Black of the wrongful charges against him.
But Bartemius Crouch Sr. seemed to have other ideas and suddenly changed gears, unveiling a brand-new accusation aimed squarely at Sirius Black.
"Sirius Black," he said, turning his stern gaze on the dejected figure, "although your wrongful imprisonment was a grave mistake by the Ministry, that does not absolve you of all crime, nor excuse you from accountability. Therefore, you shall face an additional charge, brought forth by this seat as Chief Adjudicator: the unlawful study and unauthorized practice of the Animagus transformation!"
Once again, the hall erupted in murmurs, camera flashes, and whispers.
To Barty's credit, if one were to ask what most concerned the Ministry of Magic in this affair, it was neither the long-overdue revelation of Sirius Black's innocence nor the exposure of Peter Pettigrew as the true traitor. No, the Ministry's foremost worry was far simpler, and far more damning:
How had Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban in the first place?
Azkaban, the fortress prison guarded by soul-sucking Dementors—those dreadful, spectral beings whose mere presence could unravel even the strongest mind. It was a place designed not just to contain, but to destroy—a black pit of despair where time and hope withered.
To the wizarding world, and especially to Britain's magical community, Azkaban was hailed as more than just a prison. It was a symbol, a warning, a weapon—a grim reminder of the British Ministry's absolute power. Loathed by all who knew of it, it nonetheless stood as the Ministry's sharpest blade, cutting down resistance not through justice, but through fear.
And now, a wizard had somehow managed to shatter Azkaban's legend by accomplishing the seemingly impossible—a successful escape from its clutches. This unprecedented feat had, to some extent, shaken the very foundations upon which the Ministry's authority rested, casting doubt on the security of their most potent instrument of control.
It was also one of the main reasons why the former Minister, Fudge, had resorted to such extremes— even sending Dementors to patrol the grounds of Hogwarts in pursuit of Sirius Black. In doing so, he had also issued orders to the Ministry directors, demanding that every resource at their disposal be used to uncover how Black had managed to escape.
Only after Black had been taken into custody was it made clear to then Minister of magic, Cornelius Fudge. Together with Amelia Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour, he had, in fact, spoken to Barty just before the trial began—advising him to let the matter rest as compensation for Black's long years of wrongful imprisonment.
However, the agreement had been made hastily and only verbally, since Black had turned himself in at the last moment. With nothing in writing, perhaps Barty saw an opening to twist the situation to his advantage—harboring plans of his own about the matter.
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