It is now the third day of a nightmare that began on the eve of my seventh year leaving celebration. The name of this hell is the Woodward Correctional Institute. It's a holding facility for wizards whose trials are being dragged through the proverbial wheels of justice, a place teetering on the edge of Azkaban and freedom. Here you wait for the inevitable.
Some men have been here for years. Depending on your crime, it can take a lifetime for your case to be brought before the Wizengamot. They call it a blessing that we're allowed this grace period, so that's what the inmates have affectionately taken to calling this place – Grace. It seems everything here has a nickname; the inmates, the guards, even the bloody rats have names. Personally, I've taken to calling this place judicial purgatory.
Grace is a hypocritical name for a place as filthy and disgusting as this. They say it's better than the alternative, but at least in Azkaban you aren't conscious of your surroundings. You don't see the flea-infested mats laid out on the floor, stinking of piss and sweat, taste the dirt in the very air you breathe, experience a fear so tangible that it penetrates every pore in your body, or hear the muffled cries of pain and torture echoing up from the bowels of this stone cage. Here they squeeze as many prisoners as possible into one cell until you can't remember the sound of your own breathing, your lungs pressed upon with the weight of five other men taking up all available oxygen, their dirty bodies recycling the air back out into the cramped space and diluting your airways with their disease. I see it contained in every revolting drop of sweat that beads on their brows and drops to the floor, soaking into the very bloodstream of Grace. Every tear, every drop of sweat or blood becomes a part of this place, until it pulses with the life force of a thousand past convicts and surrounds you with the stench of guilt.
Thankfully, Malfoy and I are by far the youngest wizards in here, and this morning they reluctantly allowed us to move to a private cell.
Though I don't know how long it will last.
The men who work here are soulless, with no conscience to speak of. They detest every single prisoner in here, and are no more impressed by my celebrity than Malfoy is. Everyone here is on equal ground. Everyone here is a potential target for the sadistic guards and for the more brutal and twisted inmates. No one here is safe, and no one gets preferential treatment, even if your name happens to be Harry Potter.
Today Malfoy and I are unexpectedly led into a small visitor's room and sat at a metal table across from our ex-headmaster.
"Professor Dumbledore!" I exclaim in relief.
Dumbledore searches our faces intently as the guards retreat from our side and move to stand by the door.
"How are you boys doing?" He asks anxiously, his gaze moving between us.
"How do you think?" Malfoy snaps.
"What's going on?" I quickly interject. "We have no idea what's happening on the outside at all."
"There is a group of officials still scouring the Forbidden Forest. They haven't turned up anything as of yet, but I know they will not give up until they do. A few Auror friends have joined them and will be helping out, along with two very determined Gryffindors."
"Ron and Hermione," I breathe, giving the first thought to my two best friends in days. "How are they?"
"Never mind that," Malfoy interrupts. "What's going to happen now?"
Dumbledore leans forward and speaks seriously. "The reason I'm here today is because the Wizengamot has called a preliminary hearing for the two of you, scheduled for three o'clock."
"T-today?" I swallow nervously, memories of my last court appearance still fresh in my mind.
"Yes."
"What's this hearing for?" Malfoy asks, a picture of cool composure.
"It's for the court to decide whether or not it's viable for them to keep you locked up with so little evidence at hand."
"Good." Malfoy nods.
"Will you be there, sir?" I ask, trying to calm my nerves.
"Yes, as will Hagrid, who'll be a witness."
Malfoy snorts dismissively even as I suddenly perk up at the mention of my half giant friend.
"Hagrid? Did he see something that will help us?"
"He didn't actually see anything, but he did say that he heard voices outside his door only seconds before the flash."
"That was us!" I exclaim in excitement.
Dumbledore raises his eyes to the two guards and addresses them. "Could you give us a few minutes alone please?"
They glance at each other and depart with a stern look in our direction.
"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore begins in a hushed voice once they are gone. "I don't think it would be a good idea for you to tell them of your work for the Order."
"I wasn't going to," Malfoy says, looking slightly taken aback.
"Good. I just don't want you to jeopardise your place in Voldemort's inner circle, and consequently your life, if you don't need to."
"I agree." Malfoy nods. "He would be after me the minute I stepped out of here if he knew I had been spying."
"Harry." Dumbledore turns to me. "There's also something I wish for you to keep secret from the Ministry. Do you know what it is I am speaking of?"
The Prophecy "Yes..." I answer uncertainly. "But why?"
"Because although it might help your case with Fudge and the rest of the Wizengamot, it would also leak out into the press and therefore to Voldemort, and that is the last thing you or I want."
"I understand." I nod, an unspoken promise in my eyes.
Malfoy glances at me curiously.
"Good." Dumbledore smiles encouragingly at us. "It's time to go, are you ready?"
I stumble to my feet and watch in trepidation as the two guards re-enter our room with a pair of handcuffs in each hand. I refuse to appear frightened in front of Malfoy and force my hands to remain steady as they lock the heavy steel around my wrists.
I blindly follow Malfoy and his accompanying guard as we are led through the dark corridors of Grace. I don't know where Dumbledore disappeared to, but I already miss his comforting presence.
Finally we are led into the courtroom.
This is a different courtroom from the Ministry one; it's smaller and only has a few benches afforded to the Wizengamot and other officials. I immediately look around for Hagrid or Dumbledore and expel my breath in relief as I see both of them sitting to one side. The usual two chairs with the chains attached to them are noticeably absent, there's only a single bench placed in the middle which Malfoy and I are immediately led to and placed upon. I wish the guards had unlocked our handcuffs as I struggle to find a comfortable position. Malfoy is remarkably calm and collected beside me, and I find myself envious of his Slytherin nerves of steel.
A man I do not recognise stands in front of us and begins to speak. "We are all here today to decide whether or not these two boys should remain in the Institute's custody while the Ministry and its officials are still in the process of gathering evidence. I understand that we have a few witnesses to see here today, so let's get started, shall we? Dumbledore, are you speaking on behalf of the defendants?"
Dumbledore rises and moves to stand before us. "Yes."
"Very well, let us begin." The man sits back down on his seat and opens a sheaf of documents before him, flipping to the first page. "I believe you have a witness for us, Albus?"
Dumbledore smiles and motions for Hagrid to step forward. Hagrid jumps to his feet in a hurry, squashing a furry hat nervously between his hands as he steps forward. I try to catch his eye and send him a reassuring smile, but Hagrid is as jittery as I feel and looks a little awed in front of the entire Wizengamot.
"Rubeus Hagrid?" The man inquires, putting on a pair of glasses and squinting up at him, not looking in the least intimidated by his size.
"Yes, sir." Hagrid nods immediately, his hands still crushing his brown hat into an unrecognizable shape.
"And what have you to tell the court?"
Hagrid finally glances my way and I can see him visibly relax when he sees me. He turns back to face the court and straightens up, his hands ceasing their perpetual fiddling. "I heard them boys outside my door that nigh' only seconds before the green flash."
The man nods and scrawls some notes on his paper.
I search the dimly lit benches in front of me, trying to see if Fudge is sitting somewhere amongst the group. I wish someone would tell us who this man is.
"Now, Hagrid." He looks up again, his beady eyes narrowing. "Were you asleep when you heard these voices?"
"Nah, just dozing, sir."
"I heard from more than one source that you were quite intoxicated that night Mr. Hagrid."
I almost groan aloud upon hearing this.
"Well, I...er..." Hagrid glances helplessly at Dumbledore.
"Mr. Kaplan," Dumbledore intercedes. "Hagrid was quite lucid when he summoned me from the school that night. He remembers the events quite clearly."
"I'm sorry, Dumbledore, but I can not in good conscience take the word of someone who was intoxicated during the events of the night in question. He might have only imagined that he heard voices, or it might not have even been these boys that he heard. I'm afraid it's not enough to go on."
I bite my tongue to keep from crying out in anger as Hagrid is forced, red-faced with shame, to step down and walk back to his seat.
Dumbledore also looks quite unhappy about the proceedings. "Mr. Kaplan, even if you do dismiss Hagrid's claims, there is still the fact that you have nothing to go on but circumstantial evidence to convict these two boys. Neither of them have done anything wrong in their lives thus far. They have no records with which you can justify these heinous actions with."
"Harry Potter has been brought before the court before, has he not, Albus?"
"Yes, and he was acquitted of all charges. He was innocent then, just as he is now."
Mr. Kaplan shuffles his papers for a moment then looks up. He beckons to someone in the back of the room to come forward.
"I would like to call upon the courts' witness - Mr. Malcolm Baddock."
Malfoy inhales sharply and spins around to stare as a boy I recognise to be one of the seventh year Slytherins calmly walks forward and stands before the court.
Dumbledore frowns slightly and glances at us before returning his attention back to Malcolm.
"Mr. Baddock, is it true that you had quite a nasty experience the night of the Hogwarts leaving party?"
"Yes, that's true," Malcolm answers solemnly, his ice blue eyes wide with feigned innocence.
"Shit." I hear Malfoy swear under his breath.
"Can you please describe to the court what happened to you that night?"
"Yes." Malcolm nods. "I was sitting with my fellow Slytherin friends at our table, enjoying the feast together, when suddenly everyone started acting funny."
"What do you mean, 'acting funny'?"
"Well, sir, the students began to feel itchy, as if their skin was on fire."
"Including yourself?"
"Yes, sir."
"Go on."
"People started running around and I even threw off my cloak it was hurting so much."
"It was painful?"
"Yes, sir – very."
I open my mouth to deny that blatant lie but Malfoy anticipates me and elbows me sharply in the ribs.
" Shut up, Potter," he hisses out of the corner of his mouth. "Don't say anything."
"And then what happened?" Mr. Kaplan prompts.
Malcolm turns to look at me. "As I stood in the middle of the mass confusion, I happened to notice that Mr. Potter and his two best friends were unaffected, and not only that, Mr. Potter was also laughing."
"Laughing?" Mr. Kaplan repeats loudly, turning towards me.
I stare back at him with my mouth agape, not knowing what to say in my defence because it was all true, even though he had exaggerated it greatly.
Dumbledore has an unreadable expression on his face as I glance to him for support.
"Do you believe that Mr. Potter was the one to infect the students with this cruel spell?"
"Yes, it was definitely him."
Mr. Kaplan fixes me with his beady eyes. "Do you deny this, Mr. Potter?"
My throat is suddenly dry and I look again to Dumbledore for some kind of support or indication of what I should do. He simply stares back at me, leaving me to fend for myself.
I suddenly feel angry and will not be silenced by Malfoy's elbow this time.
"What does this have to do with Snape's murder?" I demand.
Mr. Kaplan smiles, apparently pleased by my outburst. "Mr. Potter, this proves that you are a person capable of inflicting pain onto others, as well as taking joy in it. Forgive me, but are those not traits also found in murderers?"
"What?" I exclaim angrily. "This is ridiculous! It was just some stupid prank, and no matter what he says, it was not painful!"
" Nevertheless, Mr. Potter, it tells us enough about your character to lawfully keep you here as one of the suspects in this particular case."
"It was just a prank!" I shout in annoyance. "I didn't murder Snape!"
"Harry, be quiet," Dumbledore orders sharply, then turns back to Mr. Kaplan. "Be that as it may, you still have no proof that Mr. Malfoy was involved in any way."
Mr Kaplan raises a brow and glances disdainfully towards Malfoy. "Yes, well, Albus I am sure that you are aware of the boy's parentage and that Severus Snape was the main witness in securing Lucius Malfoy's imprisonment in Azkaban."
I glance at Malfoy and I can practically see the anger bubbling beneath the surface and raging in his usually guarded eyes.
"Now be reasonable," Dumbledore starts in frustration.
"I'm sorry, Albus, but both of these boys had motives and we have proved that they both have the disposition and character to commit a crime."
"I play a joke and you think I'm capable of murder?" I cry out, heedless of Dumbledore's warning glare.
"Mr. Potter, you are also proving yourself to be quite volatile. I suggest you calm down."
"I didn't kill anybody!" I yell, jumping to my feet.
"Security." Mr. Kaplan jerks his head at the Ministry guard standing by the door.
"This isn't fair!" I exclaim as the guard grabs me by the handcuffs and attempts to lead me from the room.
"Stop it, Harry, you're only making it worse," Dumbledore says to me as I struggle against the guard's grip.
I want to cry at the utter unfairness of it all. My shoulders droop in defeat as I reluctantly allow the guard to walk me from the courtroom.
I almost can't believe the events of the last hour, it feels like some kind of dream - or nightmare. I want to kick and scream as I am roughly shoved back into my cell. The shackles are removed and I am left alone once again.
I huddle on my mat and bury my head in my knees. I am too exhausted and angry to cry as I rock back and forth, trying to forget that I am sitting in prison - a cold, dank and dark prison.
Malfoy soon joins me and I actually feel slightly better when he is here. Misery really does love company.
"Did they say anything else?" I ask wearily, lifting my head.
Malfoy glares down at me as he rubs his wrists; raw from the heavy metal handcuffs. "You need to learn to control yourself, Potter."
"What was I supposed to do?" I snap. "Let them spew all that bullshit about me and just take it? Let them convict me of murder?"
"This isn't the real trial yet, Potter," Malfoy snaps back. "You're only providing them with more ammunition."
"Stop acting so superior. This is all your fault, you know."
"My fault?"
"Yes, that stupid prank was your idea."
"It was your idea to run headlong into the Forest without telling anyone first."
"You're the one who made us go back for your wand."
"It was your idea to run outside in the first place!"
"Was not!"
"Shut the fuck up, Potter. It's your fault we're still in this mess. If you hadn't exploded in there -"
"It wouldn't have mattered, they were going to keep us here no matter what happened."
"No thanks to your stupid friend."
"Hey, don't blame Hagrid, it's not his fault!"
"That he's a drunk? Oh, no, that's not his fault at all."
"He is not a drunk!"
"Hey!" We both turn and see one of the guards standing outside our cell door. "Keep it down or I'll be forced to separate you."
Malfoy and I glance at each other then avert our gaze to the floor.
"That's your first warning." The guard replaces his wand back in his belt and strolls away.
I lie down on my mat and turn my back to Malfoy. I can hear my blond cellmate do the same on his side, and I close my eyes, suddenly feeling more drained and tired than I've ever felt before.
We might hate each other, but not enough to want to be alone in here.
