Here we are again! I think I missed answering a couple of reviews... Wonderstand, you asked about Percy. I don't know, is the quick answer. We shall see if he finds his way into the story at some point. And that goes for all OCs that haven't played a part yet.
For now, I hope all of you will be content with a very talkative Chief Warlock!
Chapter 18 – The Trial
Harry supposed that it might not be an entirely normal thing – and no doubt it was hardly a sign of respectability in aunt Petunia's book – but upon entering the courtroom he realised that somewhere along the way he had got rather used to the idea of them. This one was carved out of the same black stone as all the rest, this stone that seemed to be the very foundation of the Ministry, and only marginally better lit than the ones he had previously frequented. On either side, wizards and witches were climbing the steps leading up to the benches that lined the sloping walls and in front of him loomed the seats of the jury. Glancing up at them, Harry could only just make out their plum-coloured robes with the 'W' for Wizengamot neatly embroidered on the front. A few of the jury members were whispering among themselves whereas the rest were gazing out over their audience. Algernon Pod, the new Chief Warlock was seated at the very front, in the very middle, his slender fingers laced together in front of him. He was looking very much unlike the way Cornelius Fudge had when he had presided over Harry's disciplinary hearing all those years ago. Pod's lined face was an impassive mask but he was staring intently at something and Harry followed his gaze, over a couple of bobbing hats, into a pool of light in the centre of the dungeon, until his own eyes landed on a silvery-white head, hanging down between two slumped shoulders.
Harry blinked. Little light reached the ghostly pale face but the hair was too long to be Draco's and the shoulders too broad to be Narcissa's. And Harry only knew three people with hair like that. For one bizarre, macabre, moment Harry wondered who in the world was cruel enough to drag Lucius' dead body into the courtroom for all to see – and was then struck by the horrible realisation that the Death Eaters had done far, far worse things during their despicable dominion, and he wanted to retch. Then the body moved. As though he had felt Harry's horror, Lucius Malfoy raised his head ever so slowly and exposed a gaunt, slack face, lined with shadows of pain and suffering. He did not look at Harry. In fact, Harry was not sure he was looking at anything at all.
Several seconds passed during which Harry simply did not understand what he was seeing. Lucius Malfoy was swathed all in black and if the overhead lights from their invisible source had not shone down upon him, all but his head would easily have been taken for one of the shadows coiling in the corners. He was seated with his back to the court in a chair Harry remembered all too well, but the long chains were nowhere to be seen. They are not anticipating his escape, he thought, and the more he looked upon Lucius, the more obvious it became that this man would never flee, even if he were alone and the door was open.
Harry knew his feet were working because they were steering him up the stone steps, but his eyes were glued on Lucius. It was only when his knee collided hard with one of the benches that his head jerked around as tiny stars exploded at the edges of his vision. Biting back a curse, Harry rubbed his knee through his robes and forced the pain away. He had known worse, after all. Most of the audience had taken their seats, filling the courtroom to the brim, but Harry spied the elderly witch with the red lipstick only a couple of levels above him, and some empty space beside her. Quickly, he climbed the steps and, to some annoyed grunting and general disapproval, managed to claim a seat beside her.
She acknowledged him with a small nod but made no attempt at conversation. Harry, having to know what was going on, leaned in close. "I thought you said he was dead?"
She turned the steel-blue gaze on him. "The wording was precise, Mr Potter."
"Um, what?" There was something about her that made something else in a dark, secluded corner of Harry's mind stir, but before he could grasp it, it was gone.
She pursed her bright red lips. "The wording was precise. Did I not tell you that Lucius Malfoy appeared as if dead?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, you did. But he's sitting right there..."
He could not decide if she sighed or not. "He tried, Mr Potter, and, obviously, did not succeed."
"Oh." Harry felt stupid. "Right."
"Indeed."
He looked around the room, at the curious audience, the whispering Wizengamot, the worn and beaten Lucius Malfoy. "But they're still going through with the trial?"
She lifted one grey eyebrow.
Harry managed a small self-conscious grimace. "Obviously."
The time for conversation, however hushed, was over, then, and Harry sat up a little straighter as a surprisingly pleasant female voice rang out all around him and echoed off the walls:
"Trial of the tenth of May, into offences committed under the International Statute of Secrecy and the Absolute Ban on the Unforgivable Curses..."
"And no doubt a whole number of new laws that the Ministry shall pass in the upcoming days," Algernon Pod's voice, quiet and yet perfectly audible, finished. While he spoke, the overhead light turned brighter and was soon bathing the entire court in a soft golden glow. This change should have been reassuring but the effect was only daunting; Harry could see keen eyes and expressions of utter disgust aimed for the lonely man in the chair in the centre of the floor.
There was a peculiar half-smile playing in Pod's face as he leaned forwards in his seat. He inclined his head at a pretty young witch down the row. "With your permission, Celia." He smiled more fully when she laid down her quill and Harry guessed that it was she who had spoken before.
"Lucius Malfoy... Lucius Malfoy..." Pod clicked his tongue. "What we shall we do with you?" He raised his slender wand and with a flourish, made Lucius chair perform half a turn so that the Chief Warlock and the accused were facing each other.
Despite the sudden change in scenery, Lucius had not moved an inch and Harry could only assume that he was breathing. The long pale blond hair was matted and tangled. Seeing him like this... Harry stared at him, filled his vision with nothing but Lucius Malfoy, and tried to hate him as he once had... but failed. This was not Draco's father as he remembered him – the man that had been waiting for Harry in the Department of Mysteries when he had been tricked into thinking that Sirius was being tortured there by Voldemort. This was hardly even a man.
"Now," Pod resumed his talking. "You are... You are by your very existence a puzzle which begs to be solved. If you had been Dolohov... or McNair, for example, this would all have been so much simpler, do you not agree? Ah, but you insist on being Lucius Malfoy! Once upon a time – a very dark and dreadful time, I might add, but nevertheless: a time as crucial as any, as such times are wont to be – the most trusted, the most faithful of the Dark Lord's supporters, but as of late – of late! – alas, nothing more than a broken, reluctant servant. Taunted you were, Lucius, I hear. Nothing more than a rag with which to polish your Master's shoes." He spoke very softly and yet his naturally dry voice carried clearly all the way to where Harry sat, and beyond. "Tell me, Lucius, did you suffer?"
Malfoy did not respond and the courtroom sank into a dense silence. It crept up the benches and Harry could almost feel it tangle around his feet. He shivered in his seat; the golden haze of light felt far away.
When he had made sure that every eye in the dungeon was on him, the Chief Warlock continued, almost gently, "Did you suffer, as you made others suffer, hm, Lucius? When the Cruciatus Curse flew off your tongue as easily as a bid for butterbeer? In these dark days past, did you then truly understand the... glorious nature of your campaign? When the Dark Lord turned from you and shoved you into the dirt, did it pain you? These are but a few of the questions that I seek answers to." He sat back but his gaze did not leave the prisoner.
At first, Harry did not think that Lucius would speak at all – indeed, wondered if he even could – but then, after what seemed like years, Lucius' voice, roughened and cracked, broke through the mist of magic Pod's words had left behind. He only said two words, and Harry must strain to hear them, but in the end they made perfect sense:
"My... son..."
"Ah, yes..." Pod was smiling now. "Of course."
Again the light shifted and a single beam broke loose to swirl around and land on another figure: seated on the front row, only a few feet from his father, and opposite Harry, sat Draco. He was as pale as Lucius and dressed in similar dusty, black robes. He sported a bruise that covered a large part of his left cheekbone and his eyes were wide with fear. At the sight of him, Harry's stomach turned itself inside-out.
"Your dear son," Harry heard Pod say, gently. "The precious son. The son you loved so deeply that you did not think twice before you offered him to the most evil wizard of all times. You know it is a crime, of course, to bear the Dark Mark?"
Harry had not seen him point his wand but the sleeve of Draco's robes suddenly came alive and flew up to his elbow to expose the ugly brand on his wrist. Draco jerked and stared down in silent horror at his own arm. The light ran along it and played tricks with the ink, making it stand out, made it darker than Harry knew it to be, against the white skin.
"A sign of true affection...?" Algernon Pod's voice softly speculated. "The gift from an adoring father to his beloved son, and from the faithful servant to his demanding lord. So, Lucius, when you refer to Draco here, am I to believe that what you did, you did for him?"
Harry desperately tried to conjure memories of Lucius Malfoy's cruelty. He forced to the surface what he could recall of the insults he had thrown at Mr Weasley and at Hermione. He pictured Ginny, hand in hand with death, on the floor in the Chamber of Secrets; of Dobby the house-elf who had lived in so much fear of his master. In his mind, Harry returned to the graveyard on that night of terror when Cedric was slain and Voldemort was reborn. Lucius had been there, had helped to bring it about, and had pledged himself to serve death and the destruction of all that was good and bright. And Harry thought about Sirius so hard that for a moment or two he could truly feel his godfather's arms around him.
Beside him, the witch with the red lipstick shifted in her seat, and Harry's eyes flew open. Grateful for the lack of light, he blushed, having quite forgotten the purpose of his little visit to the cupboard of his memories. Pushing the image of Sirius' grin from his mind, Harry focused once more on proceedings. The single ray of light that had illuminated Draco had melted back into the general glow but Harry could still make out his former nemesis in the shadows. He was fiddling with something... his sleeve, pulling it down to cover his wrist... his whole hand. Harry swallowed hard. He was supposed to hate them, both Draco and his father, but all he knew in this moment was pity. And perhaps, he reflected, to them, that would be worse.
Algernon Pod was rolling his wand between his long fingers. "You give me no other answer, Lucius. You tell me that your son matters to you, but you will say nothing of your crimes. Do you plead guilty? Guilty of conspiracy, of torture, of murder, of exposing the wizarding world to the Muggles... The list goes on and on." He laid aside his wand and laced his fingers together again. "You know, I would gladly send you off to Azkaban to rot in some dank cellar for eternity were it not for a not so insignificant detail..."
Harry glanced around the dungeon. The audience seemed to hang on every word and no one moved. Draco's movements had stilled, too, and as far as Harry could see, his gaze was fastened upon his father.
The Chief Warlock smiled again. "It is said that during the last months of the Dark Lord's reign he spat on you and used you against your will. And that you were weak and had lost all love for him. Is that so?"
The courtroom waited with bated breath. Harry was torn, he realised. Part of him wanted Pod to throw Lucius into Azkaban and part of him wanted... something else. Something more humane, whatever that might be.
Lucius' answer, when it finally came, was no more than a ragged whisper, "I hated him."
A low but greedy-for-more murmuring broke out at the admission and Pod looked pleased. "I am sure many share your sentiment. However... However, Mr Malfoy, I ask myself: is this enough? Did you by any action or deed defy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named while he was still alive? Or did you only in your heart turn against him, and if that is so, should that guarantee you a life outside the walls of Azkaban?"
The questions sifted through the air that had now grown thick to breathe. Harry fought to keep air flowing through his lungs as he watched Lucius' features, blank, in the golden light. He no longer knew what conclusion he wanted Pod to arrive at, and he was infinitely grateful that he was not asked to play a part in this process. Sirius had been right, he decided, to tell him to stay out of this. This was not his game to play at.
The Chief Warlock had waited for the lingering traces of the mutterings to dissipate and now he lifted his eyes and let his curious gaze scan the waiting crowd. "The court," he said, raising his wand so that the tip pointed towards the ceiling that Harry knew must be up there somewhere, "will," he paused and allowed the ensuing silence carry the weight of his words, "debate. The proceedings will resume in fifteen minutes."
All air went out of Harry as the overhead light rotated and dimmed, and plunged the Wizengamot into a complete pool of darkness. Harry looked around in confusion. From what he could see, he was not the only one who had been taken by surprise but it also looked to him as though people were enjoying this little break in the trial. Eager whispers picked up around him and several onlookers were craning their necks and squinting down the benches.
"They aren't going to call any witnesses?" Harry asked the elderly witch by his side.
She snorted derisively. "Now, what good would that serve them?"
"It might do Lucius Malfoy some good."
"Tell me, do you believe for one minute that they care what happens to him?" she said, with a suggestion of coolness behind her words.
"But..." Harry glanced towards the compact wall of darkness that hid the Wizengamot from view. "Pod seemed friendly enough...?"
"Mr Potter." Her eyes were probing the air around him. "Algernon Pod cares only to put on a thrilling show for a starved audience. He is fair enough but hardly Mr Malfoy's friend."
Harry cringed inwardly before the intensity of her gaze. "I didn't mean–"
"If you ask me," a new voice interrupted, and Harry twisted around in his seat. A portly middle-aged wizard with grey-blond hair was seated directly behind him. He was dressed in blue Ministry robes and balanced a high top hat on one knee. "If you ask me, they are doing this for no other reason than to scare the boy." He narrowed his eyes at the black blur that obscured the Wizengamot, but then he suddenly smiled and held out a hand. "Mr Potter I presume? Hector Windyfield, Department of Magical Transportation, at your service! Eternally grateful and such and such."
They shook hands in front of the hat while Harry attempted an easy smile. "Um, Mr Windyfield, what boy?"
"The Malfoy boy, of course! Wish to scare him, I wager." He tapped a forefinger against one of his ears. "One hears things."
The witch at Harry's side shifted in her seat. The was a deep line between her grey brows. "I can see no reason for why you should be spreading rumours, Hector."
The wizard's eyes now narrowed at her instead. But only for a heartbeat before they flew wide open. "Faith? Is that you? Merlin, I've not seen you down here for ages!"
She did not seem half as excited. In fact, she spoke rather acidly, "I am a law-abiding citizen and rarely have reason to appear before the Wizengamot. And I do find these dungeons dreadful, Hector. As you may know."
Harry watched the exchange curiously. The Ministry wizard nodded. "Yes, I do believe that your department has successfully communicated your, ah, disapproval of the current location of the courtrooms," he said.
Harry's eyebrows shot skywards. "I'm sorry... You are from the Ministry too?"
The witch only deigned him with a glance. "I am," she acknowledged.
Harry waited for her to elaborate but that never happened. Behind him Mr Windyfield had fallen silent. He considered asking her which department she was working for but her lips were doing an excellent imitation of aunt Petunia's when she was upset and Harry had learnt early on to keep his mouth shut on such occasions.
His eyes fell on the shadowy outlines of Draco Malfoy instead. He wondered what he was going through and what he was thinking. Harry wondered if Draco had ever imagined himself in a position like this, and then decided that he must have, at least once. He didn't kill Dumbledore when Voldemort told him to, Harry thought. He didn't hand me over to Bellatrix at the Manor... Draco Malfoy could be cruel, but not half as cruel as Harry had been convinced he was. Sirius was wrong – I need to be here.
He had no way of knowing if a full fifteen minutes had actually passed when the lights brightened again and startled the courtroom to attention. Harry could easily make out both Pod's face and Lucius', and even Draco, who was looking truly fearful now.
"The court," Pod began in that soft voice of his – magically enhanced, Harry supposed, "is divided." He appeared almost sorrowful. "Some believe, Lucius, that deep down you are a good man, that indeed you are in possession of a living heart. Some are ready to point their wands to your chest and see how the Killing Curse would become you. You were a Slytherin, Lucius. Green would suit you, they think."
Before Harry knew what he was doing, he was shooting to his feet to protest – but a strong hand, a very strong hand, landed on his arm and held him down against his will.
"Mr Potter," the witch – Faith – hissed. Her grip was vice-like.
Harry made to rebel but something in her ice-cold eyes drove the determination out of him. Still, he gestured at Lucius Malfoy with his free hand. "They can't kill him!"
"They won't." She said crisply. She loosened her hold on him a little and the blood flowed back into his fingertips. "Now be quiet."
Harry stared at her; she was once more looking at the court. There was something familiar about her, he could see it clearly now, although he could not for his life say where he had met her before. She did not feel threatening. He did not fear her more than he had Professor McGonagall when she had upbraided him at school. In fact, he was feeling much the same now as he had then, shrinking before the old Transfiguration professor.
Algernon Pod was speaking and Harry forced his scattered wits to gather again. The Chief Warlock was reading from a parchment:
"...to this day. You do realise, Mr Malfoy, that we do try to keep the existence of the wizarding community hidden from the Muggles? And that torture does not really help anyone forget what they saw? Now," he laid down the parchment, "I ask myself what to do with you...? Do I set you free, or do I condemn you to death? Compassion or cruelty, Lucius, did you ever ask yourself that question, I wonder...?" He drew out the last words, making them sound like an enchantment.
Lucius sat still as stone, as did Draco. Harry was not aware of holding his breath until his lungs began aching for air. Pod's voice slid lazily up the stone walls, up Harry's arms, and made the hair there stand on end.
"So..." the Chief Warlock said, "I reach a compromise. A safe and secure middle ground." He was smiling. It was not a wide smile, or a gleeful one, or a vengeful one – it was a plain smile, simple as that. "Ten years, Lucius Malfoy, you will serve in Azkaban, and then we shall see how you value love and duty."
No more had the last syllable rung out before an opaque sea of darkness swallowed the court. There was a moment of complete silence before people started talking all at once. Harry felt queasy. The overhead light had shifted again and he could make out neither Lucius nor Draco. A part of him that he was not particularly proud of was grateful for this.
"Well, that's that! I 'spose it was a fair sentence, considering..." Mr Windyfield had gained his feet, his blue robes falling into place around him.
"But..." Harry had to raise his voice to be heard above all the clamour that ensued as the audience was getting ready to leave, "Pod could just decide that by himself? What about the rest of the court?"
Mr Windyfield grimaced. "Pod likes to steal the show, it's true... But he is fair. It'll be the mother next, I wager." He brushed some dust off the rim of his top hat. "Well, I'm off! Nice meeting you Mr Potter! Should you ever need to make or dispatch a Portkey, send me an owl." He inclined his head at the witch. "Faith."
"Good day, Hector."
He melted into the moving crowd and Harry soon found himself on his feet doing much the same. His head was spinning as he made his way past the rows of benches. Ten years... He wondered how Lucius would get through those... He did not even know whether Azkaban was still guarded by Dementors. And Narcissa... and Draco... The idea of seeing Draco sent to Azkaban made him feel sick. Not because he liked the git, but because that would not be fair.
The crowd pushed him through the door and into the corridor beyond before he could even try to sneak a glance at the Malfoys. The cold embrace of the stone walls sent a shiver down Harry's spine, even with so many people around. He had lost track of Faith as he was swept through the courtroom but now he glimpsed her again, further ahead, as she made her way towards the stone steps that led up to the lifts. Pushing his way through the throng and stumbling a couple of times on long robes, Harry caught up with her only a few paces from the stair.
She turned to face him, without him needing to call out. Her blue eyes bore into him.
Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. "Um, I was just wondering... Do you know when the next trial will be?"
She regarded him for a moment longer. Her lipstick was as bright as it had been before. "You will be notified, Mr Potter."
He meant to say something but somebody pushed their way past him, giving his shoulder a hard shove, and someone else jammed their toes into his heel, and nearly toppled him over. His wand slid out of his sleeve but he managed to catch it before it hit the ground, and he regained his balance, but when he looked up again, Faith was gone.
Harry had no choice but to move with the crowd.
TBC