Flooing was distinctly messy, he thought after an impromptu session on it, but it got the job done. He spat some ash out of his mouth (it was perfectly normal to have some ash in your mouth the first time you Floo, Mr. Weasley assured him) and brushed it out of his hair with his fingers (again, perfectly normal) and they set off through the Ministry of Magic.
He was too nervous to keep track of where they were going. Mr. Weasley had a tight grip on his palm, and he grasped it gratefully, letting himself be dragged through the corridors of the beautiful but ginormous building.
They finally stopped at a set of doors, and Mr. Weasley opened the door, allowing him to go in first.
the first thought in his mind was that it all looked perfectly normal. There were rows of empty benches to his left and right, and more up front on an elevated level, in which people were already seated. He was startled to see Albus Dumbledore in one of the seats, quite near the centre, looking sane for once in what looked like a uniform of the Wizengamot. He acknowledged Harry with a nod and a little smile. Mr. Weasley moved forward and took the seat right in front, on the left, and he slipped in beside him.
He looked up at the benches. In the centre was the Minister of Magic, Harry recognized him from the articles. Barty Crouch Sr, who'd sentenced his godfather to Azkaban without a trial because he wanted to be popular. He looked utterly bored with the proceedings, though the short, fat, pink woman on his left seemed to be making up for it; she was leaning over the banister to stare at him.
Mr. Weasley's hand covered Harry's. He wondered absently what his face looked like right now. Pale, definitely. His hair was combed back, or it had been half an hour ago, not that it ever made any difference. His hands were in his lap and his shoulders were squared.
The doors opened again and he knew just by watching the Wizengamot that he had entered. Mr. Weasley's warm hands tightened just a little. His whole body went stiff, but beyond that he didn't allow any emotion to show on his face. He tried to breathe normally. It didn't work; the most he could manage was to take in short gasps of air every couple of seconds.
He could hear his footsteps though, and the thump of his cane — his cane! He remembered his cane; it had a serpent head with emerald eyes, actual literal emeralds for eyes. How many Death Eaters had their wands in canes with serpent heads and emerald eyes, he could bet his entire vault that there was only one
And then he was right beside him and Harry could hear his breath and although it was only for a brief moment he flinched, hard, and his hand, warm under Mr Weasley's hand, clenched. He didn't dare to look in his direction, so he stared at the rim of the table in front of them, trying to count his inhalation and exhalation so he could breathe.
In, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 out, 1, 2, 3, 4, ohohoh he's speaking what is he saying but Harry couldn't hear what he said, something about being present he thought
Then Barty Crouch spoke, in a bored but ponderous voice, "The Wizengamot presents Lucius Abraxas Malfoy as a suspect in relation to the murder of one Squib and the capture of one minor wizard."
Harry couldn't help himself, he turned his head for his first glimpse of the man's face, unobstructed by the mask
Lucius Malfoy sat casually, although his back was straight, his blonde hair falling freely down his back, and Harry could see the side of his face and he was smiling as if he was listening to the radio. And then he turned and looked at Harry and his smile grew wider and the serpent was staring at him and Harry turned away so quickly he thought his neck would break, and now he was sure he was going to be sick, he was going to puke right over the table
He flicked his eyes up in desperation and Dumbledore was watching him, and he nodded his head, just a little, and there was a small smile on his face but so unlike Malfoy's and he took a deep breath and swallowed hard a couple of times.
The name of the deceased had been read out by then. He had to stand up and state his name, and then Mr. Weasley did, as his guardian, and then Malfoy as the suspect. Then Barty Crouch leaned back and said, in a less formal tone, "I understand the witness has volunteered to answer his questions under Veritaserum?" he nodded. "The witness may please come up to the questioning stand."
The questioning stand was really just a chair, and there were chains on it, and the sight of them nearly made him want to puke again because he'd had chains on his hands for nearly a month and no way was he letting them chain him again
But he sat down, facing the Wizengamot, with their gleaming eyes on his scar, in some cases with smirks on their faces. His back was to the 'suspect', and he was looking up, bravely, he thought, and Dumbledore was looking encouragingly at him
So brave, just like his father, who was killed by a lying Death Eater
Empty your mind of all emotion, he thought, as a lady came forward with a glass of water. He took it, his palm was sweaty so he rested it on his other palm, in 6 out 8 in 6 out 8, the only memory he needed emptying was of Lucius Malfoy, he tried to think of something entirely unrelated to him, all his memories were of the Dursleys and that wouldn't do at all, so he desperately thought of eating at the table with Snape who just sat there looking annoyed like a little hissy cat, and he'd felt safe then, he remembered Snape saying it, safe, and he drunk the glass of water.
Behind him, Lucius Malfoy, the 'suspect' in his kidnap, sniffed. That was the last thing he remembered.
He was slouching, against the back of the chair, and he opened his eyes and saw the whole Wizengamot staring down at him. He hurriedly sat up, wondering what was going on and who were all these people, and then he noticed the pink witch and it came back to him. The witch, who had apparently conducted his interrogation, was walking backwards, looking at him and smiling, and it wasn't a nice smile at all. She went up to her seat and sat down, so short Harry could barely see her face above the banister, but then she leaned forward and he had a perfect view of her smiling face.
Between Lucius Malfoy's smiling face and this pink lady's smiling face, he was going to hit someone before long. He wondered what the sentence for physical assault in the courtroom was. Did they have holding pens? Or was it just stints of varying lengths in Azkaban? Wouldn't that be funny, he thought, (Barty Crouch told him to please move to his seat) him, sitting in a cell next to Bellatrix Lestrange in Azkaban because he punched Lucius Malfoy in the face in court for smirking like he'd already won the case.
He kept his eyes on Mr. Weasley as he walked back, he couldn't look at Malfoy again, and settled in his seat. Mr. Weasley was frowning too, and he wondered why, he wondered exactly what he'd said under that serum, and all of a sudden he was glad he didn't remember. Mr. Weasley held his hand and squeezed it again.
Then Barty Crouch said, "Does the suspect have anything to say for himself?"
Lucius Malfoy stood up and drawled, "Nothing, Your Honour, except that I hope the esteemed wizards and witches of the Wizengamot will execute their judgement fairly quickly as I have a lunch meeting with Cornelius Fudge and I'd hate to miss it."
Some of the esteemed wizards and witches of the Wizengamot tittered at this. Dumbledore did not. Neither, he noticed, did Barty Crouch. The pink lady laughed aloud, though, and said, "We'll be sure to get this little Half-blood wisp on his way well before lunchtime, Lucius!"
He wasn't sure which part of that to focus on, was it the part where she specifically pointed out his Halfblood status, like it was in any way relevant, or the 'wisp', because that lady was short so who was the pot calling black anyway? He decided that the most important aspect of that sentence was that she addressed Lucius 'the suspect' Malfoy by his first name. Hers was one vote he wouldn't be getting.
"All right," Crouch said in a bored voice. "Votes for guilty?"
He raised his hand as soon as he spoke those words. Harry tried to count, it was fairly many, was it more than half though, he couldn't see, and then the hands went down.
"Votes for innocent?"
Again hands went up. There were many, the entire group of tittering esteemed wizards and witches, he imagined. The hands lowered, and then Crouch said, "Votes for guilty: 26."
Mr. Weasley sucked in a breath. Crouch went on, "Votes for innocent: 24."
His heart beat so fast he thought it would come right out of his ribcage and beat madly on the floor. He dared to turn to look at Lucius, but the man looked quite bored.
That wasn't right. "Abstained votes," Crouch began and he turned back hurriedly, but then the pink lady gave a little laugh that was so fake and said, "Uhm I'm so sorry, Minister," the Minister in question looked quite annoyed, "I'd like to change my vote to innocent."
And then she smiled at Harry.
Crouch said, in his droning voice, "Revised votes for guilty: 25. Revised votes for innocent: 25. Abstained votes: 2." He glared over his shoulder at the two offenders. "The suspect is declared innocent." He raised his hammer.
"Wait!" he scrambled to his feet. He could hear Snape saying, don't speak unless spoken to, but unless he spoke now his only chance was gone forever, so he ignored the ache of his painfully beating heart and said, "Can I be questioned again? Without the Veritaserum? I don't know what I said; I had no control over what I said—"
"This is rather irregular," Crouch began, but then he looked over at Lucius Malfoy, "but I'll allow it. Unless the members of the Wizengamot have any objection?" He glared over his shoulder again.
No one spoke. Crouch said, "Bones."
Harry frowned in confusion, but then a tall, official looking woman with her hair tied back tightly stood up and came forward. "Please move to the questioning stand," she said in a calm voice. Harry nearly tripped over his feet in his haste. He adjusted his robes after he sat, looking up at Bones.
"Please state your name for the record."
"Harry James Potter."
"Please state your birthday."
"31 July, 1980."
"Beginning interrogation now." She clasped her hands behind her back. "Describe the events that occurred on the twenty-fourth of May, 1990, in your own words."
"My family was going out so I was supposed to go to Mrs. Figg's house, she was a neighbour—" Harry suddenly remembered Gordon and Malcolm and he really did not want to talk about that here "—I got distracted on the way, I went past her house, and then I saw five men, wearing all black, with white masks on their faces, and wands in their hands."
"Did you know what a wand looked like at the time?"
"No."
"Continue."
"I went back to Mrs. Figg's house, she was holding out a shoelace—I later found out it was a Portkey—but before she gave it to me they put a spell on her, a red one, that made her freeze, and then one of them said 'Hello, Harry Potter' and I tried to touch the shoelace but then they put the same spell on me. One of them said, 'what do we do with the Muggle?' and someone replied that they thought it was a Squib, and Dumbledore was a, a fool—" he paused, looking up at the man with an apology on his face "—for not having a wizard. They said, one of them, a shorter guy with short brown hair said the Killing Curse, and Mrs. Figg fell," dead, though his brain hadn't registered that at the time
" And at any point, did any of the men refer to one of their party as Lucius Malfoy?"
"No, but there was one guy with long blonde hair and a cane with a serpent head on it. Like the one Lucius Malfoy is currently holding."
He thought he quite deserved a medal for saying the name so calmly. The Wizengamot burst into loud whispers and Barty Crouch banged his gavel on the table. "Silence!" he thundered, and the effect was immediate. Crouch nodded at Bones.
"Can you confirm that under Veritaserum?"
"Yes indeed."
"What happened next?"
His shoulders were so tense they were hurting. "That's all I remember from that day."
"And at any point did they refer to the blonde man by name?"
"No, that was later in the cellar."
"Describe that incident."
"Well, I was just half-awake, and I was muttering something in my sleep, and the blonde man was on my right and one of the others on my left, and they both had masks on, and the second man said, "Nothing like the Dark Lord, huh, Malfoy?" and the blonde man said, 'no names!' and the other man laughed and said, 'What? He's never getting out, is he?'" And then he pinched my cheek and I bit his finger and Malfoy laughed but the other guy cut my cheek with a curse. He wondered if Malfoy remembered that too, what happened next, if he was playing it in his own mind like Harry was doing now.
The Wizengamot was whispering again, although they seemed to be too cowed by Crouch to raise the volume too high.
Bones nodded again. She looked tired, Harry suddenly realized. "Anything else?"
"I saw Narcissa Malfoy and Draco Malfoy and a house elf named Dobby."
Whisper whisper WHISPER "Quiet!"
"Describe that," Bones said, her tone very sharp.
And so he did. He wished he could see Lucius Malfoy's face but his back was to him. Crouch was looking supremely interested now. The pink witch's smile had dimmed and her lips were pressed together so it looked almost like a pucker.
Then the interrogation was over, and he was walking back to his seat, carefully not looking at Malfoy, though he could see him peripherally, and he didn't look angry, only thoughtful, but then just before Harry turned to his seat, right when he was closest to him, his eyes flashed as they met Harry's. Harry nearly stumbled back in sudden panic.
"Does the suspect have anything to say for himself?"
Lucius arose. Harry bit down on his lip. When he spoke, there was nothing of the amused politician of before. Now he was all business.
"First of all, I would like to point out that the witness has chosen specifically to accuse me, when he has stated five times on the record that the alleged attackers were multiple." Harry's head snapped up, his eyes searching for Dumbledore in the crowd, and met his eyes, and his eyes were mournful. Harry was getting to his feet a second time when the man's eyes suddenly blazed and Harry froze, collapsing back into his chair. Dumbledore shook his head, just barely.
Mr. Weasley's hand found his again, but now they were to keep him down.
He stared blankly at the floor, barely paying attention to what Lucius Malfoy was saying. "Without a shred of solid evidence to back up his claims", "blatant act of slander, public slander", "good mind to counter-sue Mister Potter for the irreparable harm he has caused to my family, my name, and the trauma to my wife and son by so publicly denouncing us without any proof—"
"Alright, Malfoy, you've made your point. Do you have anything else to say?" Crouch said.
"No, Your Honour, except I would like to remind the esteemed members of the Wizengamot once again that I do have a lunch date that I would like not to be late for."
"Your lunch date," Crouch hissed, leaning over the counter, "can wait."
He settled back in his chair. "All in favour of guilty?"
Hands in the air. Pink lady was smiling.
"All in favour of innocent?"
Hands in the air. Pink lady's hands went up just as everyone's hands went down. Crouch sighed. "Dolores, please cease from your dramatics. We have enough of that already. Final count. Votes for guilty: 24. Votes for innocent: 25. Abstaining: 3."
Bang went the gavel. He turned to Mr. Weasley, who was blinking anxiously at him, "Please let's get out of here please?"
He took Harry by the arm and led him out the door, and the last thing he heard was the pink witch's voice loudly saying, "Not a Gryffindor, that one!" and Lucius Malfoy laughing loudest
He needed to puke, he could barely speak, but he managed to pull on Mr. Weasley's arm and gasp, "Bathroom," and thankfully he understood because half a minute later they were at a door marked 'FOR GENTS'. He hurried in, burst into the nearest stall and threw up.
He could barely hold himself up; he'd lost, he'd lost the case, Lucius Malfoy had won, and he could feel inside him what Snape had called wild magic burning, rising higher, and he braced himself on the wall until the feeling went away. And then puked a little more.
Mr. Weasley was looking quite distressed as he exited the stall. "Are you alright?" he kept asking him. Harry washed his face and rinsed out his mouth, he must have stayed in the stall for over ten minutes, but he couldn't cry in this funny-smelling alien bathroom, he wanted to go back to Snape's bedroom and cry under the covers forever
"Please just drop me off at Snape's place," he said.
"I was supposed to take you home to meet my family, Dumbledore thought you could do with some company," he said.
Family? Oh, right, seven children— "No thank you, I think I need to be alone." And puke a little more because I still feel nauseous.
"Alright then, maybe some other time. Would you like some ice-cream? Something to eat before we go?"
"No, nope, thank you," I just want to disappear.
"Okay," he said, and then thankfully he was leading Harry to a fireplace and he was stepping out, ash all over his clothes, onto Snape's hearth.
"Bathroom," he gasped at Snape, who looked just a little worried, and rushed off down the hall. Behind him he could hear Mr. Weasley talking to Snape, and then he'd flung the door shut and puked again.