Recess is Over, Roland

The first part of Roland's trial had not gone well. Khaat hoped it would go better today. She donned her robes, collected the necessary paperwork, and made her way into the courtroom. There was a part of her that was feeling that if Jess did not somehow get past some of his own anger that the trial might well stalemate and end up in a mistrial.

She understood Jess believed in the sanctity of right and wrong. So did she. And so did her father. But, the lines were not as sharply defined in terms of black and white for her family. Their family had learned decades and decades ago that there were many shades of gray in between all that black and white.

She felt sorry for Roland but it was more in terms of what he had become and that it had resulted in all of this. Rolan was one of the most skilled fighters she had ever seen. She had hoped he would have been willing to join on as an auror and help protect the wizarding world, but that was beneath James Roland. He wanted the Minister's job. The question Khaat had was what sort of a minister would he be now even if he could have the job? His views appeared to be more motivated out of vengence than out of any desire to help humanity.

Still, she had allowed him to have fresh clothes today, and the same 'above average" accommodations. She was not taking that from him during the duration of this trial. There was little that was fair about his situation, but attempting to treat him with some humanity was something she was insisting on.

Jack walked into the courtroom, still swamped in the oversized robes she had been given. She refused to shrink them to her size because that was accepting the role in a stronger degree. She was a substitute, and she wanted that to be obvious. She had enough obligations, enough problems, and enough lives on her shoulders, and being a permanent member of the Wizengamot did not relieved her of any of the forementioned three. She just wanted to get through today.

The steady-fingered auror scraped his fingernails across paper, which he rolled with precision in that dim corner of the courtroom, to which he'd been sent in the manner of a child being punished for misbehavior. Legs folded beneath his torso, Nemo hunched nearer to the empty seat to his right and proceeded to construct the key to his narrow avoidance of boredom during the morning's trial.

His manic, flittering fingers stuttered to a halt in responce to the sudden pressence of a quite-familiar female, however, and Nemo's attention was drawn in an entirely different direction. With the intention of startling Jack into looking his way, Nemo brought two of his digits to sit between his parted lips, and he exhaled against the drug-dusted flesh.

The catcall rang deafeningly in the midst of the silent court room.

Nemo leaned over once more, and held the finished joint aloft. He then looked at what he had made, and he saw that it was very good.

{extras}

Jack was waiting for this show to get on the road, but she also knew the Ministry all too well. She knew she would be thoroughly bored by the time that the proceedings even began. She felt her eyelids slowly dipping lower, before jerking upward, then drooping lower than before. They were getting a full workout, her eyelids, and she was beginning to think she would be asleep by the time the trial began (that was, if the trial EVER began) when suddenly-

A loud whistle hit her eardrums and she jerked in her seat, sitting up straight as a rod and her eyes flew open. "What the hell-" she turned her head and spotted a familiar looking face. Her eyes narrowed but her expression of amusement appeared as a grin on her face. She glanced around her, before clamboring over the back of her seat and walking down to Nemo, plopping down next to him. "Morning, Poe."

The startled jerk that he'd elicited from Jack was a result to be proud of. He had done well. Though, admittedly, he would not have been opposed to watching her fall out of her chair in addition. It was growing increasingly evident to Nemo that such extremes were necessary when one sat amongst the droll, upper-class members of the Ministry.

"McDonald. What kind of morning?" Nemo lazily inquired as he nestled the joint between his lips, and lit it with a fluent flutter of his drawn wand. "Good?" He ate up a core-warming cloud of smoke, allowing it to linger within him until a fire had nearly erupted within his lungs. "Bad? Exciting? Boring?" Pause. Inhale smoke, exhale words, "Is it too late for me to bet a fifty on the last of those adjectives? The Vodka supply at home is running low."

Nemo turned his head to fix Jack with his humorous gaze, and idly extended the hand in which he held the spliff out towards her in silent offering.

Jess entered the courtroom and immediately walked to his own spot on the bench, pausing as he passed the chief warlock's position to bow slightly, a formality, but one he personally appreciated for its tradition. Despite his own misgivings about the credibility of today's trial, he would respect the traditions.

"Good morning all," he said in a slightly subdued manner as he took his seat, pulling his papers out of his briefcase and sorting them into their correct positions. When he was content with his own arrangement he clasped his hands together and let them sit on the bench, awaiting the prisoner's arrival.

Clink.

The guard's of Azkaban did not see fit to afford James Roland the liberties he deserved.

Clink.

Went the chains around his wrists and ankles as he was escorted from the elevator to the courtroom he'd once presided over. He spine tingled a little as he made his way to the big door, however he refused to allow fear to cross his face - over the past few months he'd been practicing blocking out the effects of the dementors.

As the door opened, James felt a wave of relief wash over him, similarly timed with the withdrawal of his guard.

"Do you mind?" He asked as he entered, raising his arms and staring pointedly at the heavy shackles strapped onto his wrists.

Without any more of a pause he resumed his gait and approached the chair, his chair, and stood awkwardly beside it for a moment, before sitting down.

James Roland had not faired too well in Azkaban. His face was already sinking, his hair getting thinner by the day... pains in his chest were a little more frequent as well - a side effect of being near the dementors for too long a time. But James Roland would not appear to be weak, no sir. He put on a stern look and stared directly at Khaat Lupin, attempting to hide the sneer he felt like giving.

Khaat was livid when she saw the condition Roland had been left to deteriorate to. She had left strict orders about that. There were about to be Azkaban guards who would lose their posts today. That was simply a given now.

"Good morning, Everyone," Khaat said cordially, reserving her anger at the guards until she had at least been civil. Then she turned her attention to the guards who had seen fit to overrule her, apparently for their own amusement. She did not take defiance of a Wizengamot order lightly. She wanted the trial by the book, to the best of their abilities.

"You have 2 seconds to take those off," she hissed at the guards. "His powers have already been stripped from him. Exactly where do you think he's going to go? You will report to my chambers at the end of the day. That is not a request. Are we understood?"

The guards hesitated to follow her orders, and she was sorely tempted to take disciplinary measures into her own hands without any further warning. Instead, she leveled her wand at Roland's shackles and released them herself. They fell to the courtroom floor with a loud clank.

"My apologies, Mr. Roland," she said, not bothering to hide her anger. Her glare shifted to "Mort." "Lose the joint, Mr. Omara, please. Now. Or I shall be forced, by our trial laws, to declare you unfit to hear this trial." Every defendant deserved some respect, and if Omara wanted to indulge his addictions, that was entirely his business. She could not, though, allow that to happen in here.

With one last inhalation of the drug that he'd crafted, Nemo ground the joint out against his denim-clad knee, snuffing out the brilliant red amber that had nestled within its end."Yes, Mommy. Sowwy," was his feigned apology, before he lethargically returned his attention to Jack, "Bit of a kill-joy, isn't she?" he asked rhetorically, and pouted in mourning over the untimely death of his entertainment.

The scruffy little drunk greeted her in kind, using the nickname he had christened himself, and inquired after her morning. She grinned at him as he asked if it was too late to bet and she said, “Yes, all betting has been postponed until the next round. Too bad, too. You would have one that bet.” She smirked.

He held out a joint to her and she raised an eyebrow. Jack didn’t smoke. She casually put up a hand and as she did, Roland was brought in. She looked up briefly and then turned her head to her companion, muttering. “I bet in takes under three questions poised to Roland before Jess and Khaat fight.”

Suddenly, Khaat’s voice reached her and she and her alcoholic pal looked up at her. Poe stowed away the object in question and he muttered to her. Jack smirked but said no more- Khaat had sharp senses, she would hear anything, she was sure.