Harry remembers the times his Muggle school teachers rambled about war crimes and how the victors sometimes took criminal punishment too far. He knows that at the time he was too young to understand.
He knows his innocent mind thought he would never sink as low as the others. He was going to be fair to everyone.
Yet, he stood and stared as boys and girls his age or younger stood before the Minister of Magic, their eyes hard and heads held high.
They all stared ahead, eyes cold and narrowed.
If Harry hadn't known any better he would have thought they were all their old high class selves, waiting to be served as they were used to.
Yet, there they were, awaiting their sentences. Dressed in dirty, oversized prison robes. Their once perfect skin bruised and scarred, their hair hacked to prevent parasites.
'Almost like the WW2 films,' Harry thought.
Among the prisoners Malfoy's hair stood out like a sore thumb.
Standing in the middle of the line, one hand holding Parkinson's tightly while the other clenched around Nott's. Zabini's own dark hand resting on his thin arm comfortingly under Greengrass' shaking fingers.
Each and every seventh year Slytherin was protecting eachother, a younger boy or girl carefully protected behind them.
The Elite of their group until death.
"Given the evidence and your age," Kingsley said tiredly. "We decided to judge you all as a group, same condemn, same punishment."
Harry nodded slowly from his hidden seat behind a pillar. Hermione and Molly had come up with that idea. As a group of underage rebels, the Wizengamont would be forced to protect the children and set a fair example with them.
Madame Bones stood then, her eyes hard and locked with Malfoy's tired silver ones. Harry could easily see the hatred reflected on her eyes for that one boy that had almost killed her daughter.
"We have decided that three years in Azkaban for you all will be punishment enough, after which you will resume your studies in Hogwarts under Ministry's Parole," she said slowly, her mouth twisting.
Harry's eyes were wide as the audience clapped and cheered, secure in their knowledge that every single Death Eater would be punished them. The sound almost drowned the cries of the youngest Death Eaters, who clutched the robes of their older companions in tiny, dirty, trembling hands and cried into the ragged clothes.
Greengass' eyes widened, her teeth clenching into her bottom lip to prevent the tears to fall from her eyes. Zabini clenched his fist and wrapped an arm around Parkinson's shaking shoulders. Nott turned to Malfoy then, his eyes wide and maybe a little broken.
All four of them, Parkinson, Zabini, Greengrass and Nott turned as one and wrapped their arms around Malfoy's slumping form, supporting his too- thin frame and clinging to his body for support of their own.
Malfoy's eyes were wide, his lips thinned.
He moved his hands slowly, running his fingers through each and every single one of his friend's heads in a small gesture of comfort.
"Draco," Zabini hissed his voice thick with despair. "Don't."
"Three years is nothing," whimpered Greengrass, her sky-blue eyes pleading.
"I love you," sobbed Parkinson. "Don't do this to us."
Only Nott spoke loud and clear, his eyes locked with Malfoys.
"I also love you, Draco," he said evenly, a broken smile being the only thing preventing his distress from escaping him. "I will always love you."
Draco nodded at them all with a small smile on his own lips.
"Remember me always with a smile," he said gently, disentangling himself from his friend's arms. "And have handsome children to name
after me."
The room fell into silence as the former Malfoy heir walked purposefully towards the Heads of the Wizengamont and met their eyes boldly.
"Anything you want to add, Mr. Malfoy?" Madame Bones asked, confused.
He grinned.
"I invoke Caramase Icma Anima Culpavile, Madame," he said loudly, eyes determined.
Amelia Bones and Kingsley gasped while the audience broke into frantic whispering.
"Are you aware of what you are saying?" Kingsley asked, his eyes wide. Harry frowned when the blond nodded determinedly.
"Of course, Minister," he snapped. "I will take all the blame of my companions and they will go free."
"Your punishment will be much harder, Mr. Malfoy," Shacklebolts warned, his eyes nervously scanning the crowd.
"I don't care," Draco nodded. "I will subject myself to your humble justice."
"Then," a voice rose from the crowd, making Draco pale and the other Slytherin's cry out in despair. "I want to claim my Restoration debt with him!"
Kingsley lowered his eyes and clenched his fists as the older man stood. His red hair almost completely hidden by the bandages covering his head.
"Mr. Weasley," he said softly. "This court recognizes your right over the prisoner."
Parkinson fell to her knees, her eyes wide.
Zabini and Nott lunged against Draco, pulling him back into their group, almost trying to hide him from George Weasley's cold eyes.
"You can't do that!" Zabini snarled to the Minister of Magic. "We will take Azkaban, all of us!"
The other seventh years cried their agreement, even the younger prisoners started to yell in fright, promising anything if they were allowed to go to Azkaban. Draco stood among them all, silent, his eye set on the redhead.
"Do you reject your invocation, Mr. Malfoy?" Kingsley asked seriously, leaning forward in his seat in eagerness.
Draco looked at his friends then, eyes tired.
"No, sir," he whispered. "I want to continue with my claim."
"You do realize that if you don't take it back right now, Mr. Weasley will be your owner?" Madame Bones asked, eyes wide.
Malfoy nodded.
"I do not regret my invocation."
Harry gapped.
"Very well, then," the Minister sighed. "Mr. Weasley, you will receive your new property and will experience a thirty day gap in which others involved might challenge your claim, should no one stand up to it, the contract will be drawn permanently." Slowly, he turned to the other Slytherins as their chains fell to their feet.
"The rest of you are free to go," he said.
As one, the group fell, some in relief, some in distress, most just to embrace the blond boy that had sacrificed himself for them.
Greengrass and Parkinson held eachother as they cried. Zabini had to restrain Nott as he tried to beat Draco for his stupidity.
The blond boy received it all with a small smile and dead silver eyes. His hands caressing the faces of each and every school mate that approached him, as if his skin wanted to commit them to memory.
"Promise me you will be strong," he said to them all. "You will make us grand again. Make me proud."
The children cried, nodded and kissed the hand that had given them their freedom. Zabini, Nott and Parkinson stalked towards George, their eyes wild.
"How could you!" Zabini growled.
George only gave them a cold smile.
"You wanted to get out of it with old wizarding tradition," he shrugged. "Now the joke's on you."
"You bastard!" Nott cried and lunged at him, only to be stopped by both Parkinson and Greengrass.
"Let's go, Draconis," George grinned, snapping his fingers. The blond nodded meekly, offered one last, sad smile to his friends, and followed the redhead out of the room.
Harry stood frozen in his seat, eyes wide, not really sure what had happened
To Be Continued