It took Hermione five seconds to stumble to her feet. As she rejoined the audience, she felt dread burrow deep in her chest. There was a panel of barristers the defendants could choose from, but this was supposed to be one of the better ones.

She watched as other witnesses were cross-examined similarly, and at recess, when she looked at the paperwork for the rest of the week, she saw there were only two witnesses scheduled for the defense — a longtime family Healer, and Travers' wife.

After court was adjourned that day, she waited for Hestia outside the gallery. Hestia led her into a small room down a marble corridor, casting a number of Silencing Charms before nodding for her to speak.

"That was outrageous," said Hermione. "How in Merlin's name was that barrister chosen?"

"We voted him in, Hermione. We all did. On the second day."

Hermione bit back her scowl. "And I trusted that I was being presented with adequate options. That barrister did nothing to inspire confidence—"

"Barrister Kauffmann is perfectly adequate, I assure you." Hestia sighed. "If you don't like him, no one is stopping you from finding another." Hermione stared at her through narrowed eyes. "Defendants can choose their own counsel, if you recall. Though I suspect it will take thousands of Galleons to convince someone outside of those appointed to the court."

Hermione blinked at her. She'd missed this detail somehow — lost it between her Occlumency and the hundreds of pages of fine print. But at least Galleons were the only thing she had in thousands right now. There was still time.

"Right." She smoothed out her robes, filing away her thoughts. "Thank you for meeting with me. I wanted to discuss a hypothetical situation," she said carefully. "And I want to know if we can keep this situation between us. Hypothetically."

Hestia nodded, glancing at the door. "Hypothetically, I'm sure I could have a private conversation with a friend."

"What if I were to tell you that Bellatrix Lestrange is dead — that I saw her killed with my own two eyes, and that the person who can tell you where to find her body is being prosecuted later this month for crimes against Italy?"

To Hestia's credit, she didn't flinch a muscle. Hermione saw the gears turning in her mind as her eyes locked on hers. Then she looked away, fixing her gaze on the ghostly street outside.

"Interesting. Hypothetically interesting," she said. "And what would you want to happen with this information?"

"I would want Blaise Zabini to be pardoned due to his assistance in the murder of Undesirable No. 1."

Hestia's lips tightened. "Hermione, you know how the Italians feel about Blaise Zabini. Bravieri was beloved. In their eyes, Zabini assisted in the coup to unseat him and held his teenage niece as a slave for almost a year—"

"I do know. I also know they're wrong."

"Be reasonable," said Hestia in a clipped tone. "I'm only telling you what I see"—she tilted her head—"hypothetically."