Huzzah, the last chapter is done. Thanks very much to everyone who's reviewed so far, and to anyone who may review in the future; as always, your input fills me with happy, sappy joy.
Potter and I took the lift as far down as it would carry us, and then proceeded on foot to where Weasley and Granger were waiting outside the door to a courtroom. The latter of my two fellow lawbreakers looked rather anxious, while the former appeared extremely disgruntled.
"What's up with you, Weasley?" I inquired. His frown deepened.
"The Chudley Cannons aren't playing. Their keeper and two of the chasers are ill with Dragon Pox. Some bloody team from Edinburgh is playing the Tornadoes instead."
I was slightly bewildered by his preoccupation with a substandard Quidditch team when he was about to go on trial for a serious breach of magical law. "Well, that's not a tragedy, is it? You can still go to the game, I'm sure it'll be decent at least."
He snorted. "Not worth it without the Cannons, is it? And I've already bought two tickets."
"Two?"
"Yeah, Hermione was going to come with me. I asked Harry but he said –"
"That I'm busy. The other Aurors and I have got our hands full at the moment," Potter finished. "Anyway, shouldn't we be going in? A late arrival won't help your case at all, I can tell you that."
"No, you're right. Let's go," I agreed, much as it galled me to approve of a suggestion of Potter's.
We passed through the door into the courtroom, and I halted abruptly, staring around at the all-too-familiar tiers of benches lining the walls, the ominous chain-covered chair at the focus of the room. No one had told me the trial would be taking place here, where my father had been sentenced to five years in prison, where my mother and I had only just managed to escape the same fate, and, I now realized, where many years ago Barty Crouch Senior had sent his own son to Azkaban. I took a few minutes to regain my composure, and then proceeded to the center of the courtroom.
Weasley, Granger and I stood in a nervous triangle around the chair. Potter went to sit on one of the long benches along the left side of the room. I looked up at the man sitting in the very middle of the bench straight ahead; Kingsley Shacklebolt, the current Minister of Magic. I knew that Shacklebolt was also a former Auror, a fact which did not fill me with confidence; he was less likely to be inclined to leniency where I, a former Death Eater, was concerned.
"Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley," announced Shacklebolt in a deep, slow voice which rolled impressively around the room, "you are accused of performing an illegal spell, namely the Unbreakable Vow, without extenuating circumstances and while fully in control of your actions. Do any of you deny this charge?"
I was silent, as was Granger. I heard Weasley mumbling something about the Cannons, but he did not refute Shacklebolt's words.
"Very well. What is your justification for your actions? Mr. Weasley, you may speak first."
I glanced at Weasley, alarmed. I had not anticipated that all three of us would have to testify during the trial, and judging by the look on his face, I doubted he had either. However, he cleared his throat and stepped forward slightly, looking Shacklebolt in the eyes.
"Er," he said, and stopped. I shut my eyes and silently willed him to continue speaking, even if he couldn't say anything of substance.
"Er," he began again, and I managed to look back up as he went on, "I agreed to help out with the Unbreakable Vow because it was ethical, sort of. The right thing to do." His voice grew in confidence. "Yeah, so, as I said before, it was the only thing we could do in good conscience. I guess Harry already gave you a copy of the Vow, so you know how it goes and everything." We had made a word-for-word copy of the Vow for Potter to give the Ministry when he announced our plan. "Anyway, that's why I did it." Weasley finished a touch weakly, but it could have been much worse.
I gave a mental sigh of relief as Shacklebolt nodded and turned to Granger. "Ms. Granger?"
"Mostly I agree with the reasons Ron gave," she said. Her voice was slightly higher than usual, but she showed no other signs of distress. "The reason for imprisoning people isn't supposed to be that they deserve it; it's supposed to be to keep others safe. Now that Crouch has made the Unbreakable Vow, there's no logical reason not to let him out. I'm not saying it's a viable option for every prisoner in Azkaban, but in this particular case I do feel it was justified." She backed up a few steps, breathing deeply. Shacklebolt looked at me, and I was unhappy to note that his expression was much less friendly than it had been when he addressed the other two.
"Mr. Malfoy, you may speak."
"Thank you, Minister," I replied, ensuring my tone was as courteous as humanly possible. "As Ms. Granger said, the purpose of our justice system is to ensure the safety of innocent people. However, I fully recognize the reality of the situation, which is that the public does demand some form of retribution against those who violate its moral code, whether or not they pose a threat. In this case, I believe that desire for retribution has been more than fulfilled, as Barty Crouch Jr. was trapped in a state generally agreed to be worse than death for over three years, a state which is considered by the Ministry to be the equivalent of the muggle death penalty." I was glad I'd listened to Granger ranting about her Muggle Studies class in the third year; referencing non-magical law might give the Wizengamot a more favorable impression of me, considering my former pureblood-superiority leanings.
"This country has recently abolished the use of the death penalty," commented Shacklebolt, mildly, and I mentally kicked myself for bringing up a subject of which my knowledge was sketchy at best. The Minister continued, "You have stated a nicely convincing case for releasing Barty Crouch Jr. from Azkaban, but you have not offered justification for your own actions. While your motivations may have been admirable, they do not give you legal permission to break Ministry law."
"I'm aware of that. Nevertheless, in this case I feel that the importance of taking my course of action superseded the importance of complying with the law. I will accept whatever consequences you feel are reasonable without complaint." I stepped back and clasped my hands tightly behind my back. I sincerely hoped that Potter would come through on his offer of support.
The aforementioned Auror stood up from his place on the bench. "Minister, may I have your permission to speak?"
"Go ahead, Mr. Potter."
"I wanted to inform you that all three of the accused had and have my complete support in this. Although I wasn't technically involved in any of their illegal actions, I agree with their reasoning and would have taken part in the plan if they had asked. Just please take my opinion as an Auror into consideration; I don't believe I'm the only Auror who feels this way." He looked around at his colleagues, a few of whom nodded in assent to his statement. Shacklebolt looked appraisingly at them and then nodded.
"The views of you and your colleagues will be taken into consideration, Mr. Potter. No one has anything further to say?" There was silence. "In that case, I propose the following: a fine of five thousand galleons each for Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, a fine of thirty thousand galleons for Mr. Malfoy due to his prior offenses before this court, and the immediate release of Mr. Barty Crouch Jr. from Azkaban, due to insufficient justification for keeping him there." Shacklebolt smiled slightly at this last, possibly in amusement at the overly large percentage of time taken by our arguing on that point.
"All those in favor of the proposed sentence?" I feverishly tried to count the number of Wizengamot members who raised their hands at this, but I did not have time to finish before Shacklebolt continued. I thought it had been about half.
"All those not in favor?" The remaining occupants of the benches raised their hands. It looked like the same amount of people to me.
Shacklebolt bent down to speak to the court scribe, who I found vaguely familiar. The young man looked up, and I recognized him as Ernie Macmillan, who had been in Hufflepuff at Hogwarts, in my year. Macmillan whispered something to Shacklebolt, who nodded, then straightened up and declared, "Very well. Sentence approved."
I leaned on the chain-covered chair in relief as the members of the Wizengamot filed out of the courtroom. Forty thousand galleons was a relatively enormous fine, but it was not unaffordable, and I wasn't going to Azkaban. Potter came down from the his place on the bench and joined Granger and Weasley in a sickening display of camaraderie, slapping them on the back and generally being chummy. Eventually his enthusiasm for making me ill ceased, and he and the others turned to face me.
"Congratulations, Malfoy," Potter said somewhat coolly. I nodded, inwardly quite pleased that he hadn't seen fit to include me in the recent, joyfully nauseating celebration, and that his attitude towards me did not seem to have altered.
"Thank you for your assistance in this matter," I replied, nodding at him. He smiled at his two friends, then jogged off after the other Aurors who had just left the room, calling back over his shoulder that he had a meeting.
"Thank you as well," I told Granger, shaking her extended hand.
"You're welcome. You should really think about going somewhere with your Dementor research, you know. There would certainly be no competition for the job."
I smirked. "Right. Well, see you, Granger – or not. I hope not."
She smiled slightly in return and left the room as well. Weasley and I looked awkwardly at one another, then shook hands very briefly.
"Don't worry, I'll pay your fines," I assured him caustically, unable to resist the urge to remind him of his inferior financial status. "Thanks for your help."
"Right. Yeah," he replied gloomily. He was rubbing a pair of tickets between his fingers, and I realized, with some astonishment, that he was thinking about the Chudley Cannons again. That man was truly obsessive.
"What're you going to do with those?" I asked with a sudden flash of inspiration.
He gave a melodramatic sigh. "Chuck them, I suppose."
"Can I have them? I am paying five thousand galleons of what should be your fine," I reminded him.
"Sure, whatever you like," he said indifferently. "Bloody Tornadoes have no idea what the real spirit of the game is. I mean, anyone can play Quidditch, but only a few have what it takes to really get into the thing."
"Yes, Weasley. Goodbye." I left him musing on the wonderful qualities of the Chudley Cannons, and returned to the Atrium, apparating from there to the manor. I lit a fire and tossed in a quantity of Floo powder, stating the destination as my aunt Andromeda's house. Leaning down into the fire, I found myself gazing out at Andromeda's sitting room. My aunt was reading on a couch, but she got up at once when she saw me.
"Draco – how did it go?"
"Brilliantly. I have to run, just wanted to give you the good news. I got off with a fine, and they agreed to let Barty out of Azkaban."
"That's wonderful; will you be visiting soon to tell Narcissa about all of this?"
"Yes, within the next day or two. For now, I should go and tell Father."
"Of course. Goodbye, Draco." As I bade her farewell in reply, a small but genuine smile crossed her features. I flew off to Azkaban with the happy thought that, in time, Aunt Andromeda and I might get to like one another after all.
Arriving at the gate to Azkaban, I laid my broom, and the extra one I'd brought, aside and stood still while the Aurors checked me for concealment spells. "Have Barty Crouch Jr.'s release papers shown up yet?" I inquired of Dawlish, who was on duty.
"What? They're letting him out? He's a mental – are you quite sure?"
"Yes," I replied impatiently. I gazed out into the grey sky, waiting for an owl to appear. One did, in a few minutes; apparently the sea breeze had thrown it somewhat off course, causing it to turn up several minutes after my own arrival. Dawlish opened the envelope it carried and read carefully through the papers contained within, checking several times to ensure they were genuine. At last, he handed them to me with a grunt.
"They're real. Give them to Stevie Paulson, in the basement."
"Right." I hurried upstairs to inform Father briefly of the outcome of my plan. He was happy to hear it had succeeded, although he did not find the forty thousand galleon fine very pleasing. From there, I went down the stairs to the basement, almost tripping when I unwisely tried taking three steps at a time.
Upon arriving in the basement, I located Stevie chatting with the McCarter sisters. She followed me over to the base of the steps, where I presented the release papers. She read them, a grin gradually spreading across her features.
"Fantastic!" she exclaimed as she finished. "Congratulations, Draco, it's worked out."
"It wouldn't have without your help," I told her sincerely. "Thanks, really."
"My pleasure," she replied. "Can he leave with you, now? I mean, do you need extra transport or something?"
"No, I brought an extra broom. Let's go."
We headed off down the hall. As we walked I reflected how much my life had changed since I'd first met Barty in Azkaban. I still regretted what had happened in the past, but now I felt like there might be something worthwhile in the future. Maybe I would take Granger's advice, and find out more about Dementors; a career didn't seem so impossible to face anymore.
We reached the cell that was our destination, and Stevie began removing the protective spells on the door. Barty looked at me with a mixture of resignation and anticipated disappointment, and possibly a glimmer of hope. I grinned at him and pulled two pieces of parchment out of my pocket.
"Hello, Barty. Want to go watch a Quidditch match with me?"
The End. Hopefully Kingsley was decently in character. Anyway, here's one last, heart-wrenching request for reviews. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!