Death Eater No More—Chapter Four (The Storm)
An unholy quiet had settled over the hundreds of wizards and witches occupying row after row of tiered benches in the dungeon-like hall. The first of the Death Eater trials was set to begin with a bang: Lucius Malfoy, his son Draco, and his wife Narcissa all stood accused of various crimes. Subtle maneuvering on the part of the Malfoy lawyers had finagled a 'family trial', one of the few of its kind in Wizengamot history, and all the participants save the defendants eagerly awaited the event.
What stymied a good many of the council was the fact that only two chairs were set below, side by side on the floor. Were there not three to be charged? Craning their necks in search of a chair they'd overlooked, heads swiveled all over the room.
Interrogator Albert Runcorn, recently promoted to Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement when Yaxley was discovered to be a prominent Death Eater and arrested, stood up and banged a gavel on his tabletop. "Bring in the prisoners," he said in a deep, commanding tone.
A door below opened and two men sandwiched between aurors were brought in; the aurors pressed them into the chairs and used their wands to magically bind them there, then they faded into the background. Draco, no longer arrogant, sat looking petrified and gaunt as if he hadn't eaten all week since the battle at Hogwarts. His jaw quivered as he struggled to be brave. In contrast, Lucius sat up straight and proud, his face an emotionless mask. Even dirty, disheveled, and quaking inside, he presented himself as a Malfoy, as an example for Draco. He whispered something to his son, who glanced over at him with a ray of hope piercing his gloom.
"The prisoners will not speak to each other!" called out Runcorn.
Lucius' lip curled ever so slightly and he hissed, "He's my son!" The word echoed lightly through the deathly silent chamber.
The gavel slammed down again. Tall and strongly built, Runcorn was an imposing figure, but being some distance from Malfoy quelled the intimidation factor. "The rules will be observed."
No one seemed to be listening at that point. All eyes shifted back to the lone door that had creaked open again; in an unsteady gait, supported by Mr. Norman, Narcissa slowly walked in and took a seat on a bench at the lowest level, only meters from her husband and son. At the sight of them she gasped, putting her hand to her mouth, tears filling her eyes.
If Lucius hadn't been restrained, he would have jumped from his seat to run to her, regardless of the lack of decorum it might present. She was alive! And she wasn't tied down like a common criminal…why wasn't she here with Draco and himself? He caught sight of Norman standing beside her, one hand on her shoulder, and instantly understood. Father's best lawyer had worked some bureaucratic magic! He suppressed a triumphant smirk.
As if there hadn't been a sufficient stir, the entrance at the top tier of the room opened and Kingsley Shacklebolt, dressed in flamboyant purple robes reminiscent of Dumbledore himself, strode in. The entire attention of the assembled body moved from the lowest to the highest level.
Runcorn looked torn, not knowing what to do. Should he abdicate his post as Interrogator in favor of Shacklebolt? He'd only held this position as Head of Magical Law Enforcement for a week—a job he'd frankly been shocked to have offered to him, what with the caterwauling of wizards like Arthur Weasley against him. Was it his fault the Death Eaters and Dolores Umbridge had basically taken over the Ministry? How was he to know Yaxley was a Death Eater? Like any good employee, he'd done his best to get ahead by following lawful orders given to him by superiors, orders now deemed improper and worthy of revilement. Because of the bad taste it left in some people's mouths, he'd have to work harder to prove himself deserving of this position.
"Minister Shacklebolt, have you come to preside over the trials?" he finally asked, shuffling a stack of parchments, one for each Malfoy.
"No, Runcorn, I've got more than enough to keep me busy, but I heard the trial was about to begin. I think it necessary to explain something." One long hand extended out to point at Narcissa, and the collective heads of the entire council followed his lead. "Harry Potter came to see me three days ago. He told a most interesting story of how Mrs. Malfoy saved his life."
Several gasps went up, even a few involuntary grunts of surprise.
Shacklebolt smiled, enjoying their consternation. "In the forest when Voldemort—I'd like us all to use his name, if you please—when Voldemort tried to kill Harry again with the killing curse, it didn't take. He sent Mrs. Malfoy to check on the young man, she claimed Harry was dead in order to spare him from an onslaught of Death Eaters, and the rest is history. Harry has requested that any and all charges against her be dropped and her name cleared, and we at the Ministry agree with him. Narcissa Malfoy is a free woman."
Lucius' eyes shone with more than adoration for his wife; they shone with relief and gratitude. Even if he were to waste away in Azkaban, she was safe and secure, he needn't worry over her. Draco, terrified as he was, looked at his mother and smiled for her good fortune. Narcissa had eyes only for her two men, as if afraid this may be the last time she laid eyes upon them and must memorize every contour of their features. Her gaze never wavered from them, not to acknowledge Shacklebolt, not to face the crowd who were trying to decide upon the appropriate reaction and finally settled on polite applause.
Clapping along with the rest, Runcorn scowled slightly—not because the Malfoy woman was to go free, for he had no stomach for imprisoning pureblood women on charges that, in his opinion, seemed blatantly trumped up. Rather, it irked him that the Minister would break in on the proceedings to make his announcement instead of quietly approaching him anytime in the past three freaking days to advise him of the turn of events. Hell, he'd have settled for a memo! But no, now he ended up looking like an idiot who didn't know his arse from a hole in the ground!
"Thank you, Minister Shacklebolt, for your splendid news. Mrs. Malfoy, you may go, or if you prefer you may stay and observe the trial." He unconsciously stroked his curly black beard as he awaited her response.
"I will stay," said Narcissa in a high, clear voice.
Shacklebolt nodded an acknowledgement and headed back out the way he'd come. Runcorn faced the defendants once more. Best to start with the boy and work up to the father. "Draco Malfoy, you are accused of providing entry for Death Eaters into Hogwarts School last year and with—" He stopped to peer hard at the parchment, where the line saying 'attempted murder' had been crossed out and initialed by a Ministry representative, likely on account of slick tactics by the Malfoy team of lawyers. "—and with reckless endangerment of Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley."
An air of pure elation emanated from Narcissa and Lucius; Draco's charges weren't serious enough to earn him a long stint in Azkaban, six months tops! The youth seemed unaware of his good luck.
"How do you plead?" intoned Runcorn.
Draco caught his mother's eye, noted the tiniest nod of her head. He glanced sidelong at his father, who whispered, "Tell them why you did it."
"Mr. Malfoy, I've warned you about talking to fellow prisoners," boomed out Runcorn. "Draco Malfoy, your plea."
The young man cleared his throat, though when he spoke it was in a bare squeak. "G-guilty. But I only did it because L—Voldemort said he'd kill me and my family if I didn't kill Dumbledore, and they were supposed to help. I couldn't do it, though. And I didn't mean for Katie or Weasley to get hurt." With his lank hair falling over his thin white face, he looked younger than his years, like a lost waif appealing to the crowd with frightened round grey eyes.
"And which of these Death Eaters killed Dumbledore, then?"
"None of the ones I let in…it was Professor Snape." He hung his head, disgusted with himself. His godfather didn't deserve to have his name trashed, especially not by his godson.
Runcorn nodded. He'd heard what everyone considered a wild story last year, the Boy Who Lived claiming Snape had killed Dumbledore, he'd seen it from the tower where he was immobilized. If his memory served, Potter had ranted about Draco Malfoy being there…he'd been ordered under pain of death to murder the old wizard or some such thing. At the time it had seemed utter rubbish, as though a mere boy could defeat the greatest wizard alive. All in all it did coincide with what the boy was saying now.
He scanned the crowd, taking in their expressions. Most had heard the same story, he was sure, and many members wore pity rather than condemnation. "All in favor of securing Draco Malfoy in Azkaban for a period of six months, raise your hands."
Less than a tenth of the witches and wizards responded. Most sat quietly, hands in their laps.
Runcorn hesitated. He couldn't let the boy off without any punishment whatsoever. "Show of hands: all in favor of a fine for Draco Malfoy."
Fully ninth tenths of the hands went up this time.
"Ten thousand galleons, to be paid within a two week period," read Runcorn off his approved list of penalties. "Failure to comply will result in an increased fine and possible time in Azkaban." He cracked the gavel to seal the judgment.
Suddenly the magical bindings holding Draco down disappeared. He sprang from his chair and ran to his mother, who stood up to embrace her only son. Many of the witches—and a good many wizards—looked upon the scene with tenderness, and quite a few teary eyes.
Getting back to business, Runcorn produced a third sheet of parchment, this one marked more extensively than either of the two previous pages. Several charges—among them bribery and extortion—had been stricken through and initialed, probably for lack of evidence and inability to prove…or due to the influence of Mr. Norman.
"Lucius Malfoy, you are charged with prison break, kidnapping, use of Unforgivable curses, aiding and abetting Voldemort during his reign of terror, and unknown counts of torture and murder of Muggles and wizards alike."
Lucius had expected a barrage of accusations, but at the last one his eyes grew round with shock. Where had that come from? "Torture and murder? I've never killed anyone in my life! Whom am I purported to have tortured or murdered?" he demanded.
"The council has only been able to sort out a few instances of particular Death Eaters murdering particular citizens, so you are being charged with an unspecified—"
"This is preposterous!" Lucius snarled. He was revving up for a rant, and would have gone on had not Mr. Norman waved a hand that suggested he close his trap before he dug his grave deeper.
"Mr. Runcorn, my client has the right to know exactly what his alleged crimes are in order to refute them," purred the lawyer smoothly.
"Being a Death Eater is crime enough," retorted Runcorn.
"Hmm," replied Mr. Norman. "I wasn't aware that we now tried cases and assumed guilt by association rather than willful action on the part of the defendant."
"We follow the rule of law," snapped Runcorn.
"And the law allows that a man has the right to know exactly what he is accused of, not some generalized idea encompassing everything depraved," insisted the attorney.
Runcorn threw him a withering glare. "The charges stand. How do you plead?"
Lucius sat up a bit straighter. "Innocent of all but the prison break, for which my term was nearly up anyway." He hadn't meant it to sound insolent, yet it came off that way.
A quick review of Lucius' parchment showed he'd been given a sentence of fifteen months for breaking into the Department of Mysteries. He had, indeed, served most of that time. "Regardless, prison break is a crime. Getting on to the next charge, I have here a sworn statement given by Hermione Granger that alleges you kidnapped her, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley; she was tortured by means of the Cruciatus Curse, and you also tried to hand over Mr. Potter to Voldemort."
Lucius let out a deep breath he'd been holding. This was certainly going far worse than he'd hoped while he waited in the stinking hole of his cell, and it was rapidly going downhill. He got the feeling he might be headed back there any time now. Damn that little mudblood bitch!
"It was not I who kidnapped the bra—the youngsters, it was Fenrir Greyback. He brought them to the manor where my sister-in-law Bellatrix Lestrange tortured Miss Granger."
"And you simply watched the spectacle, I suppose?"
Lucius opened his mouth, hesitated, then said in an even voice, "Yes. I couldn't prevent her from doing as she pleased."
"Did you enjoy watching it, Mr. Malfoy?" goaded Runcorn.
"No," ground out the other. "I don't like watching torture."
"What of trying to give Potter to Voldemort?" prompted Runcorn.
Another tiny bit of hope died in his chest. He'd desired to avoid that sticky subject. "My family's lives were at stake." It was all he could manage, not that it would matter. There was too much to try to dispute already and there were a shitload of allegations yet to answer…
Runcorn was happily flipping through a thick stack of papers that Lucius mistakenly took to be Hermione's statement. This was going swimmingly, better than Runcorn had dreamed possible. Now he'd prove he truly deserved this position! He stopped triumphantly, jabbing a thick finger down on the pages as he said, "Augustus Rookwood also has alleged that you used the Imperius Curse on Broderick Bode." In his haste to level the charge, Runcorn failed to note the year said curse had taken place, assuming it to be this year like everything else.
Forcing himself to be calm in the face of what would drive any sane wizard to violent acts, Lucius replied softly, "Rookwood has a talent for accusations that are completely unfounded. This is not the first time he's made bogus accusations against me, which have been proven false. Broderick Bode is dead, I hardly think it possible to Imperius him."
Flushing at being tripped up, Runcorn sniffed. "I'd forgotten. Do you also deny giving money, shelter, and aid to Voldemort and his Death Eaters in your own home?"
Yes, I deny it wholeheartedly. That was what should have come out when Lucius opened his mouth. Somehow it got sidelined and replaced with, "No, but I had no choice. Voldemort was threatening to kill me and my family."
"We always have a choice, Mr. Malfoy," said Runcorn. The fact that Malfoy denied most everything was irrelevant, he was obviously guilty. He was a Death Eater!
By now Lucius was searching out Mr. Norman, his eyes begging for some kind of help. He was allowed representation, after all. He'd never been foolish enough to think denial alone would save him; who would believe a proven Death Eater? Each minute of trial seemed to be adding an additional year to his sentence…or maybe an additional decade.
Mr. Norman walked over onto the floor beside Lucius. "Mr. Runcorn, aside from the acts conceded by my client, these charges can neither be proven nor disproven. It's one person's word against another, with only prejudice to steer the course. Mr. Malfoy has admitted to some of these accusations, though extenuating circumstances prevail. With your permission, I'd like to call a witness."
"By all means."
"I call as my witness Harry Potter."
Another ripple of gasps and surprised exclamations rang through the dungeon-like room. Once again the door at the top of the chamber opened. Harry shied a bit at all the eyes trained on him as he made his way down a set of stone steps, looking neither left nor right, until he stood on the floor. Mr. Norman smiled brightly as he approached the lad to shake his hand, leaning in close as if to embrace him, his elegant deep blue robe swirling about them both.
Whispering so only Harry could hear, Norman said, "You haven't forgotten our little chat, I hope. It would be a terrible shame if Hermione and Ron were indicted as accomplices to your crimes. Azkaban is a terrible place."
Harry stiffened, but his face remained impassive. A few days after speaking to Narcissa Malfoy and then Shacklebolt, he'd received a visit from this lawyer, a very interesting visit. He knew things he couldn't know. The man had apparently spoken to Hermione—whether under the influence of Veritaserum he couldn't say. Norman proceeded to make references to the fact that no one would lift a finger to imprison the Boy Who Lived To Dispatch Voldemort, despite his unlawful use of Unforgivables like using the Imperius on the Death Eater Travers and on goblins, and of using the Cruciatus on Amycus Carrow and Bellatrix. He'd gone on to say that Hermione and Ron, however, were accessories to these crimes, and the law wouldn't look so favorably on them. Even if they weren't convicted, it would hang over them for years, maybe forever, ruining their career plans.
If there existed any way to implicate his friends, even to make them out as the ones responsible, Harry had no doubt this two-faced lawyer would use it. Mr. Norman had assured him that all he needed to do was tell the truth. Even if it set Lucius Malfoy free, he'd only be telling the truth.
Mr. Norman turned Harry around to face the audience and gave him a friendly pat on the back. "Mr. Potter, tell us please, who captured you and took you, Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley to Malfoy Manor?"
"That was Greyback, the werewolf," answered Harry.
"While there, did Mr. Malfoy torture any of you?"
Harry shook his head. Then, sensing the daggers coming his way from Norman, he said, "Bellatrix Lestrange used the Cruciatus on Hermione."
Runcorn interrupted from his seat in the stands. "And did Mr. Malfoy attempt to stop it?"
"I don't know, Bellatrix ordered us into the cellar," replied Harry, who was sure Malfoy couldn't have cared less what happened to Hermione. "But he couldn't have stopped it if he wanted to, he didn't have a wand."
Yet another surge of excitement passed through the council. A wizard of Malfoy's status without a wand?
Norman pressed on. "And why didn't he have a wand?"
"Because Voldemort took it from him right after breaking him out of prison. When I was escaping a horde of Death Eaters, Voldemort and I shot at each other and Malfoy's wand shattered."
"So Mr. Malfoy has not had a wand for approximately a year?" asked Norman.
"That's right."
Runcorn banged his gavel over the rustle of the crowd. "Alright, we've established then that Mr. Malfoy could not have used an Unforgivable without a wand, nor was he responsible for kidnapping. He did, however, try to hand you over to Voldemort."
"Yes, sir," agreed Harry. It took all he had to go on, the only thing prodding him was the mantra in his head: It's the truth, it's the truth. "But he'd been tortured by Voldemort quite a bit since the prison break, and his family had been threatened. I can understand why he was so desperate. He was afraid." Those three words felt delicious rolling off his tongue. Lucius Malfoy—pompous, intimidating ponce—was afraid.
Here Mr. Norman jumped in lest Runcorn decide to pursue another line of questioning. "Mr. Runcorn, esteemed council, because Mr. Malfoy feared for his life and the lives of his family, and because he had no wand with which to protect them, he had no alternative but to allow Voldemort and the Death Eaters free reign of his manor. He was an unwilling accessory, practically a captive himself. Being a wanted man, wandless, he was virtually housebound. When was it—and how was it—he was supposed to have tortured or murdered Muggles or wizards under these conditions?"
Runcorn was becoming agitated. Three people on trial, two of whom had already virtually escaped justice, and now the third was slipping through his fingers. "The fact remains that Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater!"
"I am a Death Eater no more!" shouted Lucius, startling himself and all the others with his vehemence. "I joined out of foolishness, not from a desire to harm people! My allegiance to Voldemort, weak as it was even then, died long ago when I saw the methods he employed not only against his enemies but against his followers; only fear kept me his slave. I couldn't leave, not alive at any rate…the Dark Mark bound me to him." How it shamed him to admit such a thing in front of all these gaping peasants!
The gavel in Runcorn's hand stayed poised in midair, ready to drop, yet it moved not. Once more Norman leapt at the chance to speak, appealing to the throng with plaintive gestures.
"My friends, what is a Death Eater? At first go we'd be tempted to say a murderer, a thug, a completely despicable person devoid of all morality. And some of them are, make no mistake, yet haven't we seen heinous crimes committed by Muggles and by wizards who were not Death Eaters? Likewise, is it not possible that some of those branded by the Dark Mark are also branded as evil when in fact they've done nothing you or I wouldn't have done in their situation?"
Council members muttered to one another, heads bobbed. One member raised her voice to ask, "But the idea of pureblood superiority is espoused in their ranks. Malfoy is known for being a supremacist!"
"I suppose he is," answered Norman. He strolled up closer to the benches and looked up benignly at the crowd. "And I could name a dozen in this room alone who feel the same way about blood purity, yet they are neither wicked nor Death Eaters." His gaze casually drifted to Runcorn, who shifted uncomfortably, then the gaze moved on around the room. "If we begin to imprison witches and wizards for their beliefs rather than their actions, where does it stop? Who determines what thoughts or ideals are acceptable and which are punishable by a stint in Azkaban? Dare you imagine the consequences of establishing 'thought police'?"
He paused to give the council time to debate among themselves. Another member, an elderly wizard, scrunched up his face in thought, then asked, "Isn't pureblood mania the cause of the war?"
"Is it?" asked Norman as he paced slowly up and down the small area of the floor. "No, blood purity has never been the cause of this war; a madman's lust for power is behind it all. Once pureblood young men were duped into joining him by promising rule of purebloods, the die had been cast, there was no way out except death. Did many of these men fight and kill, torture and commit atrocities—resoundingly, yes. But there were those who did not, whose only crime was in being stupid enough to become a follower, to become branded. Should they be tarred with the same brush as the murderers because of their association?" He made a motion to Harry. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy was caught at Hogwarts School. Can you tell me what you saw him doing there the night of the great battle?"
"He was pushing through the mass of people screaming for Draco," said Harry quietly. "He didn't even try to fight."
With a broad, dramatic sweep of his arm Mr. Norman whirled from Lucius back to the crowd. "I submit to you that Lucius Malfoy has done nothing worthy of Azkaban. He is a man who was trapped in a hopeless dilemma, incapable of performing even the simplest act without fear of severe retribution. Now, as a free man, he has the capacity to do a world of good in a world that desperately needs rebuilding."
The translation, not missed by many being: Imprison Malfoy and you effectively cut off a huge supply of galleons to hospital, school, and businesses at a time when it is direly needed.
Runcorn's gavel cracked on the table. "It has been demonstrated that Mr. Malfoy is innocent of kidnapping and the Unforgivables. Mr. Potter vouches for Malfoy concerning his inability to fight the Death Eaters or Voldemort for lack of a wand, which would also preclude wanton murder or torture. The only remaining charge is prison break. All those in favor of returning Mr. Malfoy to Azkaban to serve out the rest of his term, raise your hands."
Only a smattering of hands went up. In light of everything they'd learned, and the prospect of losing the greatest benefactor in Britain, it seemed prudent to waive those months and get on with life.
"All in favor of a fine to cover the sentence?"
Nearly every hand flew up.
"Lucius Malfoy, you are fined in the amount of fifty thousand galleons. You are free to go." The gavel came down and Lucius' bonds dissolved.
It was over. Finally, it was truly over. Lucius got up stiffly and was almost shoved back into the chair by Narcissa throwing herself against him, sobbing with relief. Draco stood at a respectful distance until Lucius called him over for a public hug, one of the acts frowned upon by the Malfoy rules of conduct. It never felt so good to disobey those precepts as it did now.