Chapter 1
The Trial
A heavy, all encompassing silence filled the chamber Draco Malfoy sat in with his mother and father. They did not speak to each other, and the aurors guarding the only set of doors into the outside hallway stood stoic and severe. His mother sat up straight and tall, dignified as she always was. His father looked sickly, ill- and much closer to panic and tears than either himself or his mother. Draco, for his part, merely looked tired. Like he hadn't slept for days. He hadn't. It was hard to sleep in Azkaban, even with the eradication of most of the dementors.
It was a little over two months after the Battle of Hogwarts had ended, and the Dark Lord had been defeated. The Malfoy name, once respected and revered in the wizarding community, was now said with a sneer and whispers of disgust when mentioned. The Weasleys were now considered a more prominent, well to do pure-blood family. The thought make Draco's fingers tremble- with anger, with jealously- with fear. The shackles that bound his wrists clanked ominously at the movement.
Overkill, he thought with a sneer, staring at the chains. I don't have a wand, and there's a two auror guard watching my every movement. I'm locked in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic. How do they expect me to escape?
But Draco remembered reading about their escape from the Ministry of Magic. The Golden Trio, he snidely called them in his mind, using the nickname The Daily Prophet had bestowed upon the misfit crew consisting of a mudblood, a blood traitor, and the boy who survived. His fingers began to tremble again, causing his mother to glance over at him. He knew she would not offer words of comfort in front of his father and their guards, but he sat up straighter and took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind, as if preparing for an occulemency lesson from his Aunt Bellatrix.
Footsteps echoed down the long, windowless corridor outside their room, and a small, wispy witch with flyaway gray hair opened the door. Two more young aurors followed her.
"The Wizengamot is waiting for you," she told them briskly, ushering them upright. "Come along now, please!"
The Malfoys stood, trying to cling on to what dignity one could with shackles around their wrists and ankles. They were shepherded down the torch lit hallway, the witch walking with a quick pace, her purple robes billowing out behind her. Draco struggled to keep up, the bindings on his ankles limiting his movement. The two aurors who had guarded them followed from behind, their wands trained on himself and his parents. The young ones did not draw their wands, but marched on either side of them, as if in a very somber procession in a parade.
They quickly arrived at a set of large, heavy doors that had a comically large iron lock in the center of the wood. Whether to combat escapes or eavesdropping, Draco wasn't sure. He swallowed and tried to take a shaky breath. His fate was about to be decided, and he wasn't foolish enough to be confident that he would come out of this situation a free man. He didn't allow himself to think so optimistically; instead, he only hoped he wouldn't be going to Azkaban for the rest of his life.
For the rest of his life.
He still had so much life left.
He clenched his fists to stop his fingers from trembling as the doors opened, and they stepped into the dungeon they were to be questioned in.
High benches surrounded a deep circular pit. The walls were made of a dark stone, hardly lit by the torches mounted to the walls. It was so dim that those sitting on the highest benches sat masked in shadows. It was rather clever, really. The courtroom was clearly designed to make one feel small, inadequate... and guilty.
He recognized a few faces in the crowd of people- old colleagues of his father, people in the ministry whose hands exchanged gold with the Malfoys on more than one occasion. People who had come around to Malfoy Manor for dinner, with whom he had toured gardens with, spoke with and laughed with. They did not offer reassuring smiles or even spare a glance his way. The expressions around the room all bordered on a mild disgust or a clear outrage.
"Alright now, go on and have a seat in the middle, there!"
Three chairs sat in the center of the pit of the courtroom, and the Malfoys were each marshaled into one, their chains moving on their own accord, binding them tightly. Draco had to wonder if anyone had ever escaped from these chairs, creating the necessity of all these security precautions.
At least fifty pairs of eyes stared down at him from their lofty positions. Nearly all of witches and wizards in the stands were clad in deep purple robes with the silver logo of the Wizengamot emblazoned on their chests. The witch who had escorted them to the dungeon climbed onto the bench that sat right in front of the Malfoys, close to a man Draco recognized right away- Arthur Weasley, patriarch of the Weasley clan. An empty chair sat between them, and another Weasley sat immediately to her right. Draco recognized him as the pompous boy who had been a few years above him at Hogwarts, though he did not seem to have the same annoying air surrounding him that he had in their school days.
"The court will now call to order." A deep, accented voice announced. Draco glanced upwards; the speaker was a tall, impressive looking African wizard he hadn't spoken to before, but that looked vaguely familiar. The room abruptly fell silent as the man filled the seat in between Arthur Weasley and the wispy witch. "The disciplinary trial of the 13th of July, for offenses committed under wizarding law by one Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, one Narcissa Cassiopeia Malfoy, and one Draco Lucius Malfoy- all of whom reside in Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England. Interrogators are myself, Kingsley Ikemba Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic; Arthur Septimus Weasley, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; and Mafalda Agueda Hopkirk, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister; Percy Ignatius Weasley will be temporarily returning to the position of Court Scribe for the duration of this trial."
Draco felt as if the temperature had dropped ten degrees. Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? Arthur Weasley? Draco was stunned. That was quite a promotion from dealing with charmed muggle artifacts and false protective enchantments... They must still be questioning Yaxley, if he isn't already dead or in Azkaban. Surely there was some rule of bias being used? Arthur Weasley, deciding the fate of the Malfoy family... it was almost comically unfortunate.
"The Wizengamot gathers the accused from their holding cells in Azkaban to stand trial for the the crimes committed over the previous two years of open warfare.", the newly appointed minister continued. "We will begin with the questioning of the elder Mr. Malfoy. Stand, sir, if you will."
The chains around his father loosened enough for him to struggle to his feet. He was looking worse than ever, his skin slightly green.
"You are Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, of Wiltshire?"
"I am." his father replied in a cool tone.
"Mr. Malfoy, you stand before the court accused of treason, use of all three of the unforgivable curses, kidnapping, resisting arrest, and conspiring with Lord Voldemort in the ranks of his Death Eaters."
Draco's heart beat faster at the mention of his name. Muffled gasps rang through the court. Even dead, even defeated, his name instilled fear and menace wherever it was spoken. Shacklebolt, however, did not seem to be remotely perturbed by it. Shacklebolt. As soon as he said the name to himself, a vague recognition dawned inside of him. Kingsley Shacklebolt was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. This did not bode well.
"Witnesses for the prosecution include one Garrick Overpraise Ollivander, Luna Pandora Lovegood, Dean Aldrich Thomas-" Draco spun around in his chair, and the chains tightened. Were the witnesses present? He hadn't seen them when he walked into the room, but yes- yes, there they were, seated half in shadows, above the doorway he had walked in. The Lovegood oddity, the wandmaker, the runaway Gryffindor and... and them. Granger, the Weasel, and... and Potter. "-as well of a collection of previous charges and investigations compiled by Arthur Weasley, and eyewitness accounts from those on the front line during The Battle of Hogwarts and the seizing of the Ministry of Magic, whose accounts will be added as a copy to the court records. Are there any witnesses for the defense who would like to announce themselves at this time?"
No one rose.
"Mr. Malfoy, we will begin with the least damaging charge you possess," Arthur Weasley glanced at the parchment in front of him, "A team of aurors came to collect you at your home two days after the Battle of Hogwarts, and found themselves unable to breach your manor. When cursebreaker assistance had come through, Magical Law Enforcement officers entered to find the house deserted. Upon thorough searching of your home, it became apparent that multiple persons had been held against their will in your cellar, bound and tortured for an unknown amount of time. An official public warrant was issued for your arrest- for charges of kidnapping- at this time, and yet aurors had to spend four days attempting to discover your whereabouts, until you were found in your father-in-law's countryside home in Derbyshire, with your wife and son. At this times, it is reported that you came quietly and without struggle into the custody of the arresting aurors. Is this an accurate account of the situation?"
"It is."
"Would you like to elaborate on any details we have not yet been aware of?"
"I would." Lucius spoke in a determined tone, "I was not, in fact, aware of the official warrant for my arrest. I expected that I would be searched for, and I did not intend to run forever. The account noted that I was found at the home of my father-in-law's estate- quite unprotected by defensive enchantments. I believe it should be taken into consideration that I would certainly not choose to hide somewhere so, ah, easily found, if I was attempting to evade arrest."
"What possessed you to choose such an auspicious time to take a sudden vacation to the countryside, Mr. Malfoy?" Arthur Weasley peered at him.
Lucius stood a little straighter.
"I knew that I would soon be removed from my son and wife, and wished a small amount of time to reconcile with them, without the threat of the dark lord standing over us, without being on the run, and without being in fear. I did not expect them to be taken to Azkaban with me. "
Arthur Weasley stared down at him. Right, thought Draco, time to reconcile with us... as if you didn't only sit in silence, staring at the wall for days.
"Your testimony has been noted onto the record." Shacklebolt convened with Percy Weasley and the Hopkirk woman, as their quills ferociously scratched against parchment. Draco found his gaze once again drawn to where his schoolmates sat. The Weasel whispered something to Potter, who nodded, looking solemn.
"The next charge to be addressed is the kidnapping and holding of Mr. Garrick Overpraise Ollivander, Luna Pandora Lovegood, and Dean Aldrich Thomas" Shacklebolt said, his deep voice ringing out clearly. "Four additional charges for the holding against their will of Mr. Ronald Billius Weasley, Ms. Hermione Jean Granger, Mr. Harry James Potter, and the deceased goblin Griphook have been discussed previously with the court. The latter victims stand that you were not a member of the party of snatchers that captured them, but that you did hold them against their will in your home and attempt to summon Lord Voldemort to your home to hand them into his possession. Is this an accurate account of these events?"
'It is". Lucius replied in a cool tone. Angry whispers broke out as Lucius blatantly confirmed his guilt.
"We shall call forth the witnesses"
Draco's head was buzzing. There would be no debate on whether or not these charges were justified. Resisting arrest, maybe there was some room for argument- that discussion had actually gone smoother than he had expected. The new minister seemed a just man, but it was hard to tell with his smooth and controlled tone. Draco wondered if he had always spoken like this, or if the constant stream of work and trials the ministry had set since the end of the war had given him his velvety monotone.
Ollivander stood up first. He had clearly still not recovered from the months he had spent in Malfoy Manor's cellar. His skin seemed to hang off of him, and he leaned heavily on a cane, his skin paling with the effort it took just for him to stand. Draco looked away. He could not make contact with those pale, nearly translucent eyes- instead he stared at a large crack in the stone floor. Ollivander's whispering voice managed to carry around the courtroom, providing the details of his violent kidnapping from his shop in Diagon Alley. How he was seized by no less than 6 death eaters, including Draco's father, and taken back to Malfoy Manor. He relayed the gruesome details of his incarceration, where he was tortured for weeks under the cruciatus curse by Lord Voldemort himself before being bound and locked in the cellar for months; how he was left on the constant brink of collapse due to starvation, dehydration, and hypothermia. How he would surely not have been kept alive without his valuable knowledge of wandlore, which He Who Must Not Be Named craved.
Undoubtedly, he would have died from fatigue long before being murdered, and only the combined efforts of Luna Lovegood, a house elf named Dobby, and Harry Potter allowed him to survive the ordeal at all.
Draco kept his eyes trained onto the floor, wishing he were able to obliviate himself so he would not have to remember these words, so he would not have to know what kind of a man his father was, and could forget the gruesome crimes that had been committed in the house he had grown up in.
"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander. The next witness for the prosecution is Ms. Luna Pandora Lovegood"
"Thank you, minister." a dreamy voice spoke as Lovegood, who was dressed in rather bright cerulean robes with patterns of runes covering the fabric, helped Ollivander back onto the bench. "That was very well said, Mr. Ollivander."
"Well, lets see... yes, I was taken from the Hogwarts Express on my way home for the Christmas holidays. It was quite an ordeal- there were three death eaters sent for me, I've heard since that it was to silence my father for the content he was publishing against You Know Who in The Quibbler. It's a shame it had worked, but he didn't know what happened to me, I suppose."
Luna gazed interestingly at the ceiling with a serene expression on her face, as if she were not staring at stones so deep in shadow they seemed to not exist, but at clouds making pretty shapes in a perfectly blue sky.
"Lucius Malfoy was there, along with another man called Lestrange, and another called Nott. They attempted to remove me from the train-"
"Attempted, Ms. Lovegood?"
"Oh yes, you see, quite a few students were not keen on letting them take me quietly," Luna said happily, "Among them were Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbott, Ginny Weasley, and Susan Bones."
"All, I believe, known members of Hogwarts's own vigilante group, Dumbledore's Army, in which you co-reinstated this year"
"Oh, yes," Luna replied, now positively beaming, "The Death Eaters found themselves quite outnumbered, actually. I don't think they expected students to put up a fight. I believe we could have easily overpowered them."
"How, then, were you taken?"
"Well, it was quite simple, really," Luna spoke with a patient air, "I knew they would either call for reinforcements, or start aiming to kill. There were first years on the train, screaming. I could not run, as there was nowhere but further down the train to run to. I don't have my apparition license yet. After carefully considering my options, I called for a cease fire, and went with them on my own accord. My friends were not happy, but I was happy that they were safe."
"And you made these considerations while dueling with trained death eaters more than twice your age?"
"Oh, yes," Luna replied, shooting a wink at Potter. "Years of training with the D.A. made us all quite capable fighters."
"You're in Ravenclaw, are you not?"
"Yes, minister- wit beyond measure, is man's greatest treasure!"
The corners of Shacklebolt's lips twitched. "Please continue, Ms. Lovegood"
"Well, we went to a nice big house, which at the time I didn't know was Malfoy Manor. There were some nasty people there, but luckily for me there seemed to be some kind of argument happening that distracted them from spending too much time on me. They were rather preoccupied with their own concerns. I wasn't tortured, but my wand was taken, and a man called Peter seized me and threw me into the cellar. It was there that I met Mr. Ollivander, who was in quite a sorry state."
"We remained in the cellar for weeks on end. I lost track of time. I told Ollivander stories, and he told me about his travels, and his family. Occasionally they fed us, and I'd give him most of my food, as he was so weak. Sometimes he was taken upstairs, and when he'd come back down, he'd be nearly unconscious. I'd hear his screams no matter how tight my hands were clasped on my ears."
There was muttering from the jury at this. The Wizengamot looked angry, and offended. Nearly every witch and wizard in Britain had known Ollivander personally, had gotten their first wands from him, had visited him in Diagon Alley. They shot Ollivander pitiful glances while giving approving ones to Lovegood.
"One day, sometime around Easter, we heard quite a commotion happen upstairs. It wasn't long before Harry and Ron were also forced into the cellar, with Dean and Griphook. I was dismayed to see them, as I'd hope they'd continue to evade capture. I helped remove their bindings. They had kept Hermione upstairs, and were torturing her quite viciously. I think Ronald had the hardest time hearing her, as she was screaming rather terribly. That was hard to listen to. I like Hermione, she didn't deserve what happened to her. She's very nice." Lovegood beamed at Granger, who was, Draco noted, holding tightly to the Weasel's hand and looking shaken at being reminded of her ordeal.
"Harry managed to call Dobby the House-Elf to our aide, and sent Dean, myself and Mr. Ollivander ahead of him and Ron to Shell Cottage, where Bill and Fleur Weasley received us. They all arrived a short while afterwards, but..." Her eyes, normally so bright and inquisitive, darkened for the first time. "But Dobby, he didn't make it. Bellatrix Lestrange had stabbed him."
There was a beat of silence around the courtroom. Draco felt a twinge of pain, and of guilt. Dobby didn't make it.
"Thank you, Ms. Lovegood."
She sat down primly, Mr. Ollivander patting her knee and whispering to her.
"Next witness for the prosecution, Mr. Dean Aldrich Thomas"
A tall, good looking boy in Draco's year stood. Draco hadn't had much communication with him over the years beyond the usual rivalry between Slytherin house and Gryffindor house. He was an original member of Dumbledore's Army, from Umbridge's time at Hogwarts.
"I was on the run with a small group of men, and two goblins. Among us were Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell, both who were on the run from the Ministry of Magic. We got caught by snatchers. I think..." he swallowed thickly. "I think it was my fault we were caught. They found us while we were trying to find some food in a muggle town we thought would be safe. They claimed that I wasn't of age, and should be at Hogwarts, and asked us to prove who we were. It came to a fight, and one of the snatchers called for backup. A few death eaters arrived, Lucius Malfoy was with them- and one immediately killed Ted. I'm not sure who did it. Then all hell broke loose. We fought as hard as we could. Griphook was hit with a stunner, Gornuk was killed- it was awful, he was slashed open- and I got disarmed."
Thomas took in a shaking breath, and Lovegood reached for his hand and held it softly in hers. Draco saw him squeeze it tightly.
"It was Dirk against all of them. I told him to run, to leave me. He didn't. He just looked at me strangely, as if about to ask me a question he was sure he already had the answer to. Then one of the death eaters aimed a killing curse straight at me and he... he stepped in it's path, and fell. I couldn't move. I froze. He gave his life for me, and I froze." Tears were now streaming down Thomas's cheeks. "We had grown pretty close, the two of us. He told me about his sons, and how he'd hoped they'd grow up to be like me, and how I reminded him of an old friend of his. He shouldn't have died like that."
Arthur Weasley bowed his head hearing these words, looking stricken.
"The death eaters disapparated back to wherever they came from, leaving us with the group of snatchers. They dragged me over to Griphook and tied us up," Thomas continued, "I thought Griphook was going to die. They were preparing to take us to the ministry for questioning, but they got an alert- a taboo had been broken, and we were apparated to another location instead. We surrounded a tent, and I heard voices and names I recognized, but I couldn't see what was happening- and before I knew it- Harry, Ron and Hermione had been tied up with me as well."
Draco found this piece of information unexpected. He had assumed that Dean had been traveling with the three of them. What were the odds that four Gryffindor students would have been caught within moments of each other?
"We were taken to Malfoy Manor. When we arrived, the Malfoys went to fetch their son- to fetch Draco- to see if he could identify us."
Draco's head snapped up at the mention of his name. He had finally been brought into the proceedings.
"Draco came into the room. I thought it was over then. He would have known, you see, who we are were, and that I wasn't wizardborn." Dean stared into Draco's eyes, as Draco struggled to take in a breath. "But... he lied to them."
A louder outbreak of murmuring broke out at this statement. Many eyes turned to Draco, but he only stared back into Dean's, dark brown into light gray.
"Order, please!" Shacklebolt's voice boomed through the room. "Continue, please, Mr. Thomas."
"He pretended not to know us. He hardly spared us a glance. Harry was all swollen up, almost impossible to recognize, but it was still him. Everyone looked worse for wear and was in bad need of a haircut, but Ron, Hermione and I would have been instantly recognizable. He knew who we were. We'd had classes with him for 6 years. Even if he somehow managed to block out my name in all that time, he would have known I was in his year at least. He would have known." Dean shrugged.
Lucius's eyes bored into Draco, who looked down at the ground again.
"Why do you believe he lied for you, Mr. Thomas?" Shacklebolt asked, a note of surprise in his voice over this piece of information. "You hadn't mentioned it in your previous statements."
"I'm not sure why he did it. Only that he did." Thomas took a deep breath. "I didn't know he'd be here today. I thought it'd only be his father."
I don't know why I did it, either, Dean Thomas. I suppose I was just so tired of seeing people die. Or maybe I just wanted a small taste of justice, of rebellion... but a small voice in his head spoke the truth he would never speak out loud- Or maybe, just maybe, you wanted to help Potter and his friends... you wanted them to escape, to be able to end the pointless, bloody war...
"They kept Hermione upstairs, and sent the rest of us down to the cellar. You know the rest of the story from Luna's account. Hermione was tortured, and we were rescued and taken to Shell Cottage."
"Thank you, Mr. Thomas, you may have a seat."
Shacklebolt conferred with the wizards and witch surrounding him once more. Percy Weasley resumed his frantic scribbling onto his parchment, as if he'd forget the information he'd heard immediately if it wasn't written down as quickly as possible.
"You have heard the accounts from the witnesses. We will move onto the most serious charges- treason, and conspiracy against the Ministry of Magic and wizardkind by the side of Lord Voldemort. Under his regime, we have found sufficient evidence that you performed all three of the Unforgivable Curses- the cruciatus curse, the imperious curse, and Avada Kedavra, multiple times."
"Mr. Malfoy, do you openly admit to the use of these three curses?"
"I do," said Lucius coldly.
"Do you admit that you placed Broderick Bode, an unspeakable for the Department of Mysteries, under the imperious curse 2 years ago, on order of Lord Voldemort, which led to his insanity?"
"I do."
"Do you attest that by doing this, you led him to his death in St. Mungo's Hospital- where he was sent a clipping of the Devil's Snare?"
"He was in St. Mungo's on my doing, but I took no part in the actions taken against his life. I was not aware his brain would be magically confunded by protective spells in the Department of Mysteries, nor was the Dark Lord. It wasn't until Augustus Rookwood was broken out of Azkaban did we discover what had happened to him."
Shacklebolt did not look impressed by this argument. Draco's father continued to answer questions, never seeming to lie, but using other truths to protect himself. That his wand was stolen by the Dark Lord and destroyed, so conclusive evidence could only come from witnesses, pieced together guesswork, and his own admittance of guilt. Draco was impressed with the amount of time the Minister took questioning his father, asking for minute details and word for word accounts. Fudge would have just thrown him right into Azkaban for life with no hope of a trial. At least Shacklebolt seems to actually want to pursue justice, Draco thought to himself, whether or not my father deserves to be heard.
"Mr. Malfoy, I ask that you pull your robe back from your left arm and display it to the courtroom"
Lucius gave Shacklebolt a long, hard stare, which Shacklebolt returned unblinkingly.
"We are waiting, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco watched as his father revealed his dark mark, a surefire piece of evidence against him. He felt sick to his stomach. They say having a dark mark guarantees a life sentence in Azkaban...
"Mr. Malfoy, this ends our questioning. Do you have any final words to say in your defense?"
"I do not."
Narcissa, who had remained stoic and stony faced through the proceedings stared at him in cold alarm, while Draco closed his eyes, afraid he might be sick. Would he say nothing in defense of himself, or his wife and son? Was his pride really worth so much?
Shacklebolt remained expressionless, his dark eyes revealing nothing to Draco or his audience. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, have a seat. The Wizengamot will discuss your sentencing after we have concluded examining your wife and son."
Lucius shuffled back into his seat, where his chains reattached themselves to the magical chair that bound him. He cast a glance over to his wife, who was still staring at him.
"Mrs. Malfoy, if you'd please stand."
Draco watched as his mother stood, straight and proud, even weighed down as she was by shackles. She kept her chin elevated and her gaze downwards, as if making eye contact with the Minister was beneath her. It was actually quite impressive that she had managed to pull off the air of indifference that she had. I suppose she's well-practiced at it, isn't she?
"You stand accused of treason and conspiring against the Ministry of Magic and wizardkind with Lord Voldemort," Shacklebolt announced, staring down at her. " Evidence has been collected by our auror department to be brought against you in trial. Are there any witnesses for the defense who would like to announce themselves at this time?"
"Yes."
Draco whipped around and stared at the source of the quiet voice. Potter had risen. The court erupted into loud voices, gasps of shock and dismay, and confusion. A frizzy haired wizard with a large nose actually stood up in protest. Only a few people looked more grim than shocked, including the minister, the Weasleys, and Granger. This must have been planned. What could you possibly have to say for my mother, Potter?
"The Wizengamot recognizes Mr. Harry James Potter as a witness for the defense. Mr. Potter, you may speak your piece when the prosecution finishes."
Potter sat back down, and stared firmly at the wall opposite him. The room fell silent in anticipation as Shacklebolt's eyes returned to Narcissa's.
"You are Narcissa Cassiopeia Malfoy, of Wiltshire?"
"I am." his mother replied in a shaky attempt at indifference.
"Mrs. Malfoy, are you, or have you ever been, a death eater?"
"No, I am not, nor have I ever been." Narcissa spoke, continuing to stare coolly at the ground. "I may have sympathized with the idea of blood purity in the beginning, but when it became clear that the Dark Lord was not truly interested in the sanctity of being a pure-blood, I was quickly disillusioned of himself and his aims. However, one cannot simply leave the service of the Dark Lord. I had no choice but to stay, even as I watched him make my family suffer."
"Am I correct in understanding that you did not believe it was the aim of Lord Voldemort to raise pure-blooded wizards above all others?" Mafalda Hopkirk questioned, her eyebrows raised in clear surprise.
"You are correct."
"What led you to this conclusion?"
"The Dark Lord punished my husband, whose blood is among the purest in the world, by allowing him to be sent to rot in Azkaban." She stated, "He then sentenced my son to his death, by branding him and setting him the impossible task of killing Albus Dumbledore. The Dark Lord did not expect Draco to succeed in this task. He hoped to punish my husband further by having our son die on his command. My son, whose blood is pure and who committed no acts against the Dark Lord, was sentenced to death. The Dark lord did not honor the sanctity of their blood. He only wished to toy with those he considered beneath him, and I assure you, Minister- everybody was considered beneath him."
"I asked Severus Snape to make an unbreakable vow to me to protect my son, as I and Lucius could not. My sister, Bellatrix, stood witness. He agreed, and it was him who ultimately killed Albus Dumbledore, not my son. Were either of them still alive, I'm sure they could confirm this story for you."
"But they are not. Both of them are dead, one way or the other, by associating themselves with Lord Voldemort." said Shacklebolt.
"I stopped caring about the whim of the Dark Lord the moment he threatened my family, Minister. I did not wish to have any connection or association with him, but I had to choose to stay and play my part, or be killed, and have my son killed with me. I chose to stay. I do not regret my choice, for my family remains whole and in tact."
Shacklebolt's eyes bored down into Narcissa's; a cold, hard look that made Draco uneasy- but it was nothing on the icy blue stare that came from Arthur Weasley.
"You did not show remorse for following Lord Voldemort when he slaughtered innocent muggles and wizards, including those of pure lineage- among them children and families much like your own," Arthur Weasley began, "or when he attempted to murder a one year old child, or tortured a defenseless old man in your home-but only when your own family was threatened. You disconnect yourself from the reality of the dozens of murders and atrocities that the man you fed and hosted in your home committed. Your family may remain whole and in tact, Mrs. Malfoy, but few others could claim this to be true."
Points of color had risen in Narcissa's cheeks at these words, but she said nothing.
"Show us your left forearm"
Narcissa pulled here sleeve back, and revealed a pale, thin arm that had no mark or blemish upon it. There was some muttering at this, but it seemed to be widely suspected that Draco's mother had never been branded, only followed those who were.
"Do you have any final words to say in your defense?" Shacklebolt asked.
"Only to remind the Wizengamot that you cannot imprison someone for their beliefs, only their actions."
There was more muttering at her response. For truly, what had she done that they could charge her for? She had stood by silently while crimes were committed in front of her- but if she hadn't, she herself would surely have been murdered on the spot. Draco caught snippets of a few conversations, including mentions of Charity Burbage and Bellatrix Lestrange. The overall tone seemed to be bordering between suspicion and sympathy. It was one thing to be biased in your own opinion, but quite another thing to murder and torture those that one was biased against...
"The Wizengamot recognizes Harry James Potter as witness for the defense", Mafalda Hopkirk announced as Potter stood.
Draco held his breath. What was Potter going to say? Would he tell some veiled story that would hint his mother was involved with more than she really was- but claim he was defending her to keep his conscious clear? Even as Draco ran through these scenarios in his head, he knew they would not be true. Draco was thinking like a Slytherin, but Potter was a Gryffindor. He did not posses the cunning it would take to boldly do that in front of the court- and, Draco had to admit, he would not be so undermined as to attempt it anyways.
Potter looked worn, exhausted. Draco wondered what he had been doing for the past few months. Whatever it was, it clearly did not afford him much rest.
"When I walked into the Forbidden Forest in the early hours of May 2nd," Potter began, "I found myself standing face to face with Voldemort, surrounded by a circle of death eaters and their sympathizers. Voldemort shot the killing curse at me. It hit me square in the chest."
Loud gasps came from witches and wizards all around the courtroom once again, including one from Draco himself. They'd all heard, of course, that Harry had walked into the forest to sacrifice himself... such a Gryffindor thing to do... but it seemed that Draco was not alone in hearing, for the first time, the detail of Harry Potter surviving a point blank killing curse not once in his life, but twice.
"I don't know if I died and came back, or if I never really died. Either way, after..." He hesitated, as if omitting a part of his story he did not wish to share, "When I woke up again, Voldemort himself had also been thrown back. He was afraid he had failed again. He sent Narcissa Malfoy to confirm whether or not I was dead."
All eyes in the courtroom now darted between Potter and his mother.
"I thought it would be over for me, then. I was surrounded by countless death eaters, and Voldemort himself stood a few mere feet away. My heart was beating. I was breathing. I expected to feel Bellatrix Lestrange's sharp fingers digging into my skin- but the hands that felt my pulse, my chest, were much softer and gentler than anyone else's could be. Mrs. Malfoy could clearly feel that I was alive. She pretended to be listening to my breath, and whispered so quietly I could hardly hear her voice above my own pounding heart." Potter looked directly into the eyes of Draco's mother, who returned his gaze steadily, a hint of unconcealed pride in her eyes. "She asked me if Draco was still alive, and I told her that he was. She then turned and looked Lord Voldemort in the eye and... and she lied straight to his face. She told him I was dead. She knew it was her only opportunity to go into the castle to find her son."
Witches and wizards sat in shocked silence.
"I can't speak for the choices she's made throughout her lifetime- but if Lord Voldemort had sent anyone else but her to check my pulse, I would have been immediately killed, and he would have done it in a way that return would have been impossible." He shrugged his shoulders, "Without her I wouldn't have been able to duel Tom Riddle in the great hall. I wouldn't have been able to come back, and I wouldn't have been able to kill him. Whether she lied only for her son's sake or not, she chose to betray Voldemort in the end- and I reckon that shouldn't go unnoticed."
He sat down. The silence continued, and it felt louder than any of the mutterings and murmurings that had broken so far. His mother had done that? Lied to the Dark Lord? And not only did she lie... but she survived lying to him. Few people had accomplished that.
"Thank you, Mr. Potter." Shacklebolt said at last. "Mrs. Malfoy- you... you may have a seat."
Draco's hands began to tremble again. He was next. His mother might have secured herself freedom through her innocence... but he was not so innocent. He glanced at Arthur Weasley. It was Draco who had brought Fenrir Greyback into Hogwarts, it was Draco who had led to Bill Weasley's disfigurements. It was Draco who had a dark mark. It was Draco, who was up there, that night on the tower... there was no evidence that it was Snape who had killed Dumbledore, and Draco's presence up there was known... and all the witnesses on the tower that night were not only death eaters, but most of them were dead.
"Mr. Malfoy, if you'll stand."
Draco stood, his shackles loosening just enough to allow him a few inches of movement. He still trembled, and the feeling that he might be sick in front of the entire courtroom returned tenfold.
"You are Draco Lucius Malfoy, of Wiltshire?"
Draco could only nod, his mouth too dry to speak.
"Mr. Malfoy, you stand accused of treason and conspiring against the Ministry of Magic and wizardkind with Lord Voldemort. Furthermore, you stand accused of being an accomplice to the murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, for the attempted murders of Ronald Billius Weasley and Kathleen Elizabeth Bell, for illegal use of the imperious curse, and for the crime of being a Death Eater." Kingsley glanced at the large pile of parchment in front of him, frowning. "Evidence has been collected by our auror department to be brought against you in trial. Are there any witnesses for the defense who would like to announce themselves at this time?"
Draco had no expectations for anyone to stand. His friends, sons and daughters of death eaters, had not come to witness his trial. It did not matter; Draco knew the court would not have heard them out, even if they had the ability to compile anything in his defense. Draco squeezed his eyes shut, so he would not have to look around a room full of people who knew him, but none who would defend him, none who would be on his side, none who would understand...
"Yes."
For the second time, Potter's voice rang out clearly, saying that word. Yes. Draco's shock was even more extreme than it had been the first time Potter rose. He whipped his head around and stared, and there he was- standing, but he was not standing alone. Granger stood next to him, though the Weasel sat stoically by her side, clearly unhappy with her. Potter and Granger? He thought. How? How is that possible? After years of fighting, of disdain... after Potter had sliced him open, and Draco had tried to kill him....
But... the small voice in Draco's head returned. Potter came back for me in the Room of Requirement. Potter had found him worth saving. He had not left Draco there to burn alive, as he had deserved. Potter had reached out his hand, not once, but twice, even after his hand had slipped. Potter could have left Draco, claiming he had tried, that it was too hot, too smokey... too dangerous. But he didn't. He came back, and flew them to freedom, more natural on a broomstick than anyone else he'd ever seen...
"The Wizengamot recognizes Mr. Harry James Potter and Ms. Hermione Jean Granger as witnesses for the defense. Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger- you may speak your piece when the prosecution finishes." They sat back down, Granger rather flushed in the cheeks.
"Mr. Malfoy, are you, or have you ever been, a death eater?" Arthur Weasley asked him, staring at him directly.
Draco swallowed thickly, attempting to find his voice. "Yes."
Arthur Weasley closed his eyes for a moment and let out a sigh. He shot a grim look towards Potter, shaking his head.
"Did you kill Albus Dumbledore on Lord Voldemort's orders?" Shacklebolt asked, peering down at him. Draco knew the Order was well aware he didn't kill Dumbledore, and hoped this was not an attempt to frame him, but merely an attempt to piece together the missing parts of the story they did not have.
"No," Draco took a sharp breath, "I was ordered to by the Dark Lord... but I didn't kill him. Snape- Professor Snape- did. I arrived on the scene first, but I couldn't... I didn't. We were alone on the tower. I had disarmed Dumbledore, but he only spoke to me. He told me he could help me, that he had known all along the task I had been set to do. I hesitated, but before either of us could say anything further, a group of death eaters arrived on the scene."
"Death eaters that you sneaked into the castle, correct?" Kingsley continued to stare down at him. Had he been there that night, Draco wondered, fighting alongside the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army?
"Yes."
"Did you perform the imperious curse on Madame Rosmerta, the landlady of the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade?"
"I did." said Draco, in a muted tone.
"And did you instruct her, under the imperious curse, to give Kathleen Bell a cursed necklace that you had purchased at Borgin and Burkes?" Hopkirk asked.
"Yes."
"A necklace that was intended to be delivered to Albus Dumbledore, but instead almost took her life, forcing her to stay in St. Mungo's hospital for several months in a recovery ward?"
"Yes." Draco had the grace to look ashamed of himself.
"Did you also have her poison a bottle of mead, to be sent to Albus Dumbledore, that instead ended up poisoning and nearly taking the life of Ronald Weasley instead?" Mr. Weasley asked quietly, looking down at him through his crooked spectacles. Draco noticed Percy Weasley's quill freeze on his parchment. The quiet, calm tone with which Arthur Weasley spoke to Draco with almost made him wish the man would yell, scream- or even hurtle a few heavy objects at him. Draco had nearly killed his son, and yet- if he wasn't mistaken, he still saw sympathy deep in Arthur Weasley's eyes.
"I... I did." Draco whispered.
"Two lives were almost lost due to your reckless behavior and your inconsideration for the lives that surrounded you. If it wasn't for the quick action of other students and teachers, they would have died at your hands. Do you understand that?" Shacklebolt leaned forward in his seat to inspect Draco with a closer eye.
Draco bowed his head. "I do."
Shacklebolt leaned back and shuffled a few more pieces of parchment around.
"Please show us your left forearm, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco raised his sleeve, and displayed his dark mark for the Wizengamot to see. He himself would not- could not look at the disgusting mark that was forced upon his body without his desire, without his consent.
"Did you knowingly and willingly take up arms and receive orders to fight for the cause of Lord Voldemort, Mr. Malfoy?
"No. I didn't want to fight."
More murmuring. Draco wished his hands were free so he could clap them over his ears and stop listening. Instead he shut his eyes tightly, trying to pretend he was anywhere other than sitting here, being forced to expose his secrets to the entire ministry, with Potter as a witness to his failures and his terrible choices.
"In the summer before my sixth year at Hogwarts, I was forced to receive the mark on my arm by the Dark Lord. My mother... she believed it was to punish my father for having failed him in the Department of Mysteries some months prior. He told me I had a special mission... to kill Albus Dumbledore. He said if I did not, he would slaughter my entire family before me."
Draco stole a glance at Potter, who had moved forward in his seat.
"Do you have any final words to say in your defense?" Shacklebolt asked.
Draco hesitated. "Only... only that I never wanted to be a death eater, but I had to choose between being branded or my family dying. I never had a choice. Not really."
Shacklebolt stared down at him, studying him with dark eyes. Draco felt as if he was looking right inside of him, deep into his core, into the darkness that resided inside of him that he wished he could destroy but could not.
"No further questions. We call our first witness for the defense- Ms. Hermione Jean Granger."
Draco watched as Granger stood, cast a nervous glance around the room and took a breath to compose herself. Her involvement in his trial was almost as much of a mystery as Potter's. At least Potter had more of an insight into the front lines, more of a connection with Voldemort... what could she have to say in his defense?
"Minister, this is in regard to the night the court has already discussed at Malfoy Manor- the night that Harry, Ron and I were captured by snatchers and brought before Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. I was immediately identified by Narcissa Malfoy as "the mudblood girl" who traveled with Harry Potter. I had put a stinging hex on Harry to swell him up and make him unidentifiable. Ron was protected by blending with his large family. Draco Malfoy was summoned into the room and told him to identify us to confirm who we were before summoning Voldemort."
Ah, thought Draco, this again.
He said he wasn't sure if Harry was, well, Harry- but of course he must have known, don't you see? He'd have known right away that it was him, with the amount of time in our school year they spent glaring at each other and fighting. Of course, I had no disguise and nor did Ron or Dean... he also would have recognized us on sight. When asked if I was the girl known to be traveling with Harry, he told them he wasn't sure." the Granger girl looked directly at Draco, "I realized then, that he... he wasn't in a situation he wanted to be in. There was nothing more he could do for us, however, than to act ignorant. He couldn't have released us, there were too many to fight, and the ones he'd have to fight were his family..."
Family. He was sick of hearing that word. Family, family, family. Families were supposed to be warm, be friendly. A painful shot of jealousy, one that he always tried to contain deep inside him, shot through him when he looked past Granger at the Weasel. Poor, but loved in ways that Draco would never be able to have or understand. Draco would have fought against his family if it would have helped. He was ashamed to admit it, but the real reason he didn't put up a fight because he knew they would have lost either way. Bellatrix would have perhaps spared him, but the Dark Lord would not once he'd heard of his betrayal.
"Regardless, they quickly realized who we were," Granger continued, "but Bellatrix Lestrange spied the sword of Godric Gryffindor. She could not call Voldemort without first discovering whether or not it was the real one, or if it was a copy. It was supposed to be safely hidden away in her vault in Gringotts. It was I she chose to question. Ron and Harry were dragged away from me. That's when... that's when Bellatrix Lestrange began to try to force me to reveal information to her."
Granger's face seemed to lose a bit of color as her voice trailed off, and her gaze was locked at an invisible point in the distance. She shook her head, as if to clear it, while the Lovegood girl started swatting at the air around her head.
"She had a silver knife," Hermione whispered, "It was small, but she knew how to use it." Hermione shook back her sleeve to reveal the horrible scar across her left forearm, more horrible even than the dark mark: the word 'mudblood' gruesomely carved deep into her flesh. "Malfoy- he asked her to stop. He begged her. He told her I clearly didn't know anything, that I was a simple minded girl who couldn't tell the difference between a hippogriff and a canary."
A ghost of a smile traced itself on her lips.
Simple minded. It had been the first thing to come to his mind that night. If Aunt Bellatrix just thinks of Granger as a silly little girl, she'll stop... he had never wanted this. He could still hear her terrible screams, and Weasley's desperate sobs...
"She ignored him, and he moved forward as if to help me, or to stop Bellatrix- not that there's much he could have done. His father saw his attempt and held him back, with his wife's help. Bellatrix grew angrier and began to use the cruciatus curse on me in a further attempt to force me to confess I'd been inside her vault at Gringotts. Of course, at that time, I hadn't yet broken inside of it yet. Malfoy was begging his father to get the goblin from the cellar, the goblin who could confirm if the sword was real or not. Lucius Malfoy allowed his son to bring him upstairs."
Draco looked away in embarrassment from the gazes that tried to meet his. He could feel Potter's eyes boring into the back of his skull. Draco did not want to hear about how he begged and cried while Granger withstood torture without betraying her friends, or how she stayed loyal to Potter even when the cruciatus curse was used on her by the master of the curse itself, his Auntie Bella.
"They believed Griphook when he told them it was a fake, and summoned Voldemort to the manor. Bellatrix was handing me over to Greyback when Ron and Harry burst in. They fought, with Dobby's help, and we too managed to escape to Shell Cottage."
Granger now looked directly at him. "I personally don't believe Draco ever had a choice in becoming a death eater. When Harry told us of his suspicions during our 6th year, I disregarded him because I didn't believe Lord Voldemort would make an underage wizard a death eater. I was wrong. Lord Voldemort found nothing too sacred or too precious to damage- not even a pure-blooded child of one of his devout followers. Minister- I urge you to remember that Draco was hardly of age during the war-"
"As were you, Ms. Granger- am I incorrect in the knowledge that you, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter set out on your mission to take down Voldemort's regime the day after Mr. Potter turned 17? All of you so young, and yet set in such different directions..."
"Well, yes, we were," her cheeks flushed a deep pink once again, "But we'd had years of guidance, of insider knowledge, of people doing their best to lead us into the light. Draco didn't." and with a stubborn look, she folded her arms across her chest and sat down.
Oh, so he was 'Draco' to her now, was he? His mind was reeling. How long had she been considering speaking at his trial? Had she come today, not to witness him being sent off to Azkaban, but to try to help him? The boy who had, for years, mocked her for her blood status, for her appearance, for her very existence... He felt dizzy with confusion. What had happened, what had changed in the time that he'd sat in his cell in Azkaban?
"Thank you, Ms. Granger."
She sat down in her seat, and the Weasel put his arm around her, whispering quietly in her ear. She leaned into his shoulder and closed her eyes, as if absorbing support from him. Draco wondered briefly if they'd finally gotten together, or if their friendship had just gotten a lot stronger after what they'd been through together while on the run.
"We call our second witness for the defense- Mr. Harry James Potter." Shacklebolt announced. "Mr. Potter, the Wizengamot has already reviewed the evidence you submitted to the court in defense of Mr. Malfoy, but it seems you have more to add?"
Evidence? Potter had actually gone out of his way to submit evidence on his behalf? What was going on? Surely a dementor must have sucked out his soul and he didn't remember it happening, and he's been left in some fantasy world where nothing makes sense to anyone anymore...
"Er, yeah, I do," Potter began roughly. "As Hermione said, I don't really believe Malfoy ever wanted to be a death eater. He's a right git, but... but the world isn't divided into good people and death eaters, now, is it?"
He spoke his last line with a remorseful smile.
"It began in our 6th year, I suppose. I discovered on our way to Hogwarts that Malfoy had been branded with the dark mark."
Oh, yes- you discovered my dark mark thought Draco, snidely, discovered it by sneaking into my train compartment and eavesdropping over a private conversation...
"I didn't know, at the time, that Dumbledore was already aware of the fact that Malfoy had been branded. I thought I alone knew and believed the truth. I became obsessed with Malfoy. Trying to find out what he was up to was all I could concentrate on. It drove Ron and Hermione crazy, and Dumbledore would end the subject any time I brought it up." Potter ran his hand through his unkempt hair, looking slightly embarrassed. "Every time I saw him, he looked sicker and sicker. He was alienating himself from his friends, he all but dropped off of Slytherin's quidditch team. He was suffering, and I knew it was Voldemort's doing. I just didn't know the details behind it at the time. I began having him followed."
"You had me followed, Potter?!" Draco said, outraged, before he could stop himself.
"Er... yeah, I did. Sorry about that. Not really, though." he replied with a sheepish expression on his face. "I made a few discoveries this way. I was able to confirm that Malfoy had been given a mission from Lord Voldemort, and it was clear for me to see that whatever his mission was, it wasn't going very well at all. That's when he began to get desperate. He'd been backed into a corner, with no way out. This led to him nearly killing Katie and Ron. It was clear that whatever he was was doing, locked up in the Room of Requirement... it wasn't going well, and he didn't want to be doing it."
Draco froze. Potter was aware of what he was up to the entire time? A feeling of embarrassment, and of shame, began to to creep up his spine. He knew, of course, that Potter was suspicious of him that year... but he had no idea to the extent Potter acted on his suspicions. How closely he watched him. That explained why members of Dumbledore's Army were so conveniently stationed directly outside the Room of Requirement the night he had the death eaters breach the castle.
"Malfoy was also unaware that I was on the astronomy tower with him and Dumbledore the night of Dumbledore's murder, though I was invisible."
Draco must have looked as though a mountain troll had dropped a club on his head. Potter had been there the entire time? Potter had witnessed the truth of what had happened that night?
"We heard Malfoy running up the stairway. Dumbledore petrified me at the last second, so I couldn't intervene. He chose to freeze me instead of protecting himself, and that split second decision allowed Malfoy to burst into the room and disarm him. They spoke for a while, Malfoy's wand trained on Dumbledore the entire time. Dumbledore told Malfoy he need not kill him. I learned... I learned later on that the greatest concern Dumbledore had for Malfoy was that his soul did not get damaged for committing a murder he was forced into."
Dumbledore, concerned with the state of his soul?
"He offered the Malfoy family protection. For the Order to go and collect his mother and father, and hide them together. I watched as Malfoy began to lower his wand. I think he was about to accept Dumbledore's offer- but then a group of death eaters burst into the room, and he was back to where he had started. Dumbledore was wandless, they urged Malfoy to kill him, but he couldn't raise his wand and do it. I think, even if he had cast the spell, it would have done little more than knock Dumbledore off of his feet. You have to mean them, the Unforgivables- otherwise they don't work."
Draco felt heat and color rise to his face. Potter had been there, in person, to witness his greatest moment of weakness... Potter, Potter, Potter- why was it always Potter?! Potter who had found him crying, for Merlin's sake, in the arms of Moaning Myrtle. Potter who had denied his friendship first, Potter who had his father carted off to Azkaban, Potter- who was always surrounded, always loved, always protected. Another sharp pang of jealousy shot through Draco. He could not stand these feelings, and willed them to bury themselves deep inside his core to rot with the rest of the emotions that made him human.
"Snape entered the room, then- and Dumbledore had him perform the duty he'd requested of him nearly a year prior... Dumbledore let Snape kill him- to save Malfoy's soul, to fulfill his unbreakable vow, and to secure the ultimate trust and glory Voldemort would place on him. Dumbledore was already dying. He was greatly weakened that night, and looking back," Potter swallowed, "I think that would have been one of his final nights alive regardless of the killing curse being cast or not."
Draco could not believe what he was hearing. Snape? Snape had been on Dumbledore's side, all along? Snape had been trying to help him, after all, while still extracting information on his plan... on Dumbledore's orders. Why hadn't Dumbledore confronted him, killed him, had him locked up? Why had Dumbledore allowed Draco to roam free? None of this made sense, nothing was right, life outside of his parent's house couldn't possibly be so confusing, so twisted up from the truths- or the lies- he'd been taught and told all his life.
"I can attest to what Hermione and Dean have told you about him attempting to lie to cover for us at Malfoy Manor." He paused. "However, I have one more detail to add. We were able to escape after Dobby pulled a chandelier down from the ceiling, forcing everyone to scatter. I saw Malfoy held our acquired wands with his own- we locked eyes. I lunged for him, prepared to fight and he... well, he gave me the wands. Didn't put up a fight, he all but handed them to me. I think that's why his wand worked so well for me. I didn't win it in a duel, or through murdering someone... It was given to me with the blessing of it's true owner."
Draco wished the floor would swallow him alive. Surely a nice floor related death was better than standing in chains listening to Potter announcing to the world, to his father that Draco had freely given him his own wand...
"I don't think he ever wanted any of this, and I think he had to combat years of being taught he was better than others, that he deserved everything to be handed to him on a silver platter. It made him entitled. It made him cruel. I know another boy much like him. They've been misguided. I think he deserves a second chance at life, away from the influence of Voldemort," Potter now looked directly into the eyes of Lucius Malfoy, unsmiling, "and away from those who will try to convince him that it matters what a person's blood status is."
Potter held eye contact with Draco's father, saying no more. In a few moments, Lucius broke away from his penetrating gaze, instead choosing to stare at the stone floor. Potter returned to his seat.
"Thank you, Mr. Potter. You've given us much to consider. I will deliberate with the Wizengamot about the sentencing of the Malfoys." the minister gestured at Draco to return to his chair.
The tension in the courtroom broke a bit as the trial came to an end. Some people stood up to stretch their legs, and have open discussions with their neighbors. The moment Draco sat down, all sound went muffled, as if he had cotton in his ears. He wasn't meant to hear the arguments they made before coming to a full decision.
The minister called Potter over, Draco could only assume, to discuss the hearing with him. Was Potter on the Wizengamot now? Surely that would be record-breaker... Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, the Youngest Quidditch Seeker in Over a Century, Now Youngest Wizard to Ever Hold Seat on the Wizengamot! Draco could already see the headlines. He sighed and closed his eyes, wishing he could down a sleeping draught in one, or use an extendable ear to hear the deliberations of the court. Try as he might, he could not hear what they were saying among themselves.
He looked around to see what the consensus might be. There were a few witches and wizards who were red faced, clearly angry. Some looked more pensive, some looked sad. Most, though, looked tired. That seemed to be the overall energy of everyone in the ministry right now. Tired. Draco could relate to that.
They debated among themselves for a long time. There were no clocks in the room, but Draco still felt the first hour pass, then the second, and the third... he'd watched Potter stand up and pace, and throw his arms up in the air in frustration, while a fearful looking Granger attempted to calm him down. Brash, Potter- too bad I don't know if I want to cheer on what you're saying or hex your mouth shut... The Weasel looked morose and serious, and rather angry. He seemed to be restraining himself. Draco guessed that he disagreed with his friends' choice to stand witness, but honored their decisions nonetheless. Arthur Weasley looked a bit... well, sad. Draco found that interesting. It's no secret how Mr. Weasley felt about his father... their mutual feelings of hatred and extraordinarily different values had made them an incompatible and petty pair. Then Draco remembered... his son had died. One of the twins, two years above him in school. Draco had seen his body laid out in the Great Hall. Perhaps that's why his eyes seemed so distant from the going-ons of the Wizengamot's arguments.
Draco sat up a bit straighter as everyone began to return to their seats. Some, with expressions of satisfaction, as if they knew their side had been heard and agreed upon. Others were somber, and a few were downright angry. The Lovegood girl merely looked as if she were daydreaming happily, and when he made eye contact with her, she waved. He looked away quickly, a slow blush creeping up his neck. He saw more malevolent glares shot at himself and his mother than they did at his father. That surprised Draco, whose father had significantly more charges than he himself did.
The moment the minister returned to his seat, the silencing spell was lifted.
"The Wizengamot have reached their decision"
.
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A note from the author:
Phew! What an intense way to start a story, right? I wonder what the Wizengamot have decided upon... maybe they'll turn the Malfoy family into ferrets and have them life the rest of their lives in a muggle zoo? Or force them all to permanently dye their left eyebrows yellow? I suppose we'll have to wait and see...
You've just finished reading my first ever fan fic! I hope you enjoyed it, and I would love to hear your thoughts on this story. I was very nervous to submit it, and must have read and reread it a hundred times before finally biting the bullet and choosing to post it. It turns out editing is a lot harder than I thought it would be! There are so many minute details to research and remember.
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for making it to the bottom of the page.
-CM