A/N: Random thoughts that caused this fic:
1) The Elder Wand should be useful for stuff other than just beating up previous elder-wand-holders.
2) Wizard Court is totally bizarre.
3) I wonder how culpable Draco is in the end, in Harry's eyes. Because he kind of fails to do anything really awesome OR really terrible.
On the way into the courtroom Hermione decided she needed a bathroom. The building was such a messy labyrinth that they got lost, and with Ron swearing they should go right while Harry nudged left, they eventually ended up at the back entrance to the courtroom instead of the front.
There were no crowds here, which was good, but there were scowling guards and a (caged, at least) Dementor. Harry watched it and shivered. "I told you this isn't the way," Hermione said, with a halfhearted attempt not to sound bossy. "This is where the prisoners wait. Let's go."
Harry peered down the hallway and yes, the people lined up against the wall there appeared to be prisoners. They wore ratty grey, and chains, and there were a lot of them. "They're going to try all these people in one day?" he asked.
Ron nodded. "Yeah, they'll all be quick. This week is still the really guilty ones. The ones they caught red-handed. They'll probably all get…" he made a loud kissy face.
"Ron," Hermione scolded. "That's disgusting."
"True, though. And to be honest good riddance. Come on – let's find the door." Ron turned back the way they had come, and Hermione followed him.
But Harry hesitated. He thought, for a moment, he had caught sight of-…
A silvery-blond, thin, with a seeker's grace. "Malfoy?" he called.
Half a dozen guards and half a dozen prisoners turned to growl in his direction, and he swore under his breath because the blond was one of them and yes, it was Malfoy.
"No visiting. No talking," a guard barked in his direction.
Harry pushed his bangs off his forehead. "Can I just say something to him?" he asked, pointing.
The guard's attitude changed immediately. "Oh! Of course," he said, lowering his wand. "Sorry. Didn't recognize you, what with not looking like a war zone and all. Great to meet you, Harry."
Harry hated, hated that photographers had gotten into the hospital and he wanted to hurl curses at everyone who'd tacked the pictures up on their refrigerators. But that wouldn't exactly be productive right now, so he forced a smile and thanked the guard and moved as close as he could to where Malfoy had stepped up.
"Malfoy, what are you doing in there?" he hissed.
"I've joined a dance troupe. How d'you like our uniform?" His eyes were flat and cold.
"Malfoy! I mean it – what happened? How did you end up with this batch? Ron said…" But then he thought of that kissy face and elected not to repeat it.
Malfoy watched him for a moment. "You're strange, Potter," he said at last. "Even my friends and family haven't visited or sent owls. Nobody wants to talk to a dead boy. Why do you?"
"You're not-… you're not a dead boy."
"Yes I am. Not a single person has been acquitted so far. Not one. I hear there's a mediwitch and a crematorium on the floor below this one – nice and convenient."
Despite himself Harry shivered. "Stop it. That's just a rumor; the papers said they wouldn't-…" He stopped.
"Wouldn't what?"
Harry tried to clear his throat. "They wouldn't start executions until after the memorial ceremony next month."
"Wonderful. I have a month then."
There had already been enough empty seats at graduation. Harry felt his adrenaline spike. "I'll testify for you."
At that, Malfoy was startled into making eye contact. "No you won't," he snapped reflexively.
"I will."
Malfoy's face underwent a number of strange contortions that ended in a sneer. "I don't believe you. Why?"
"Because I know you're not evil, Malfoy. You didn't-… kill Dumbledore. Or me."
Malfoy shrugged. "A lot of people didn't kill Dumbledore. Or you, apparently, because here you are."
"You didn't do anything!"
"-… that you saw," Malfoy finished. "You don't know everything, Potter."
"Well I know enough not to want the bloody Dementor's Kiss for you!" he hissed. "Have you ever even seen it happen? You saved my life, I can't-…" He shook his head. "Listen: call me as a witness. Let me try."
Malfoy just glared at him. "Don't get my hopes up," he said at last. "There's nothing you can do."
The speeches made against Malfoy where short and perfunctory. There really wasn't much chance for him to speak up, and they had already gotten as far as: "Draco Malfoy, we hereby sentence you to-" before he interrupted, in a panic: "Wait! Don't I get a chance to say anything?"
The courtroom grew quiet. "There is something you can say in your own… defense?" the judge purred. There was a world of mockery in the word.
"I… I want to call a witness," Malfoy said. Despite his best efforts to sound imperious, his voice was shaking.
The judge adjusted his glasses. "The accused may only call witnesses with the leave of the court," he said at last.
Malfoy blinked. "Well… can I have leave?" he said, as if trying out the words of a new and particularly difficult spell. "I request permission to call a witness, please."
"Permission is denied."
"But-? So no one gets to say anything for me?" his voice was rising in panic. "That's not fair!"
"The file before the court contains assurances that the Ministry has investigated your case to the fullest extent warranted by all attendant circumstances," the judge droned.
"That's not fair!" Malfoy insisted.
Harry echoed it under his breath. "That's not fair."
Even Ron looked a little uneasy.
Next to him, Hermione gave a quiet sigh. "You can always intervene if you want to."
Harry turned to her. "What?"
"Of course. As master of the Elder Wand you have the right to be heard in any wizarding court that is passing judgment on matters of life or death. Didn't you know that?"
"No – how on earth would I know that? Are you sure?"
Hermione gave him a withering look. Of course she was sure. "Hurry up, though," she said. "Once they sentence him it's too late."
The judge had already started in again with: "Draco Malfoy, we hereby-"
"Excuse me!" Harry called out, and stood up in his seat. "Excuse me. Um, hello." He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Hermione was scribbling on a piece of parchment. Thank goodness, because he had no idea what he was supposed to say.
The judge peered over his glasses. "Why, Harry Potter! What an honor. But you'll have to wait until after the trial, son, you can't interrupt us when we're in the middle of something."
"I'm not your son, I'm the master of the Elder Wand," he said coldly. He snatched up Hermione's note and read it fast. "And I intervene in this proceeding as a matter of night."
"Right," Hermione hissed.
"Right."
The judge's jaw dropped.
"So… you have to let me speak, then." But it turned out Harry's insistence was unnecessary; the courtroom itself was already recognizing him. Seats shifted into new aisles, opening a pathway for him to descend from the gallery. The floor glowed with the symbol of the Deathly Hallows.
Grinning, Ron elbowed him. "You're up, mate."
Hermione was more useful. "Don't bother claiming he's innocent; you'll only give the judge a reason to disregard you," she whispered to him as he stood up. "Tell them instead that you want to address the question of punishment. That's usually what the master of the Elder Wand does, he speaks for either life or death... Harry, do you hear me?"
He nodded, already halfway down the new aisle.
"You can do it, Harry!" she called after him. He nodded to that, too.
He pretended not to hear Ron say, "He's mad, isn't he?"
And he closed his ears completely to Hermione's answer.
"Are they out of their minds? I told them what he did for me. Don't they listen?"
"Harry, calm down, mate. They did listen. Six months is nothing – for a guilty Death Eater that's a slap on the wrist."
"Ron's right, Harry. Most of the others are going to be executed – or worse. And the ones who did get Azkaban – the lucky ones – they're all getting ten, twenty years. So far Malfoy's the only prisoner who's going to be released any time in the next decade."
"Six months in Azkaban? He'll be crazy by the time he comes out, doesn't anybody care?"
"To be honest not really, Harry, and in any case you've done all you can."
"Exactly. You got up and said something for Draco bloody Malfoy, mate. You're practically a saint."
TBC. Let me know what you think so far!