A/N: I just want to say thank you to my first reviewer, the first person to save my fic as a favourite and my first followers. Tatiana K, Linnie31 and Sevsnape4ever. Big thank you! It is always uplifting knowing that someone out there likes your work. It was a particularly inspiring and a motivating incentive for me as at the moment things have been particularly hard at home as my granddad is very sick.

I hope you don't mind the acknowledgement and thank you all again. x

Chapter 4: Trials and tribulations

Courtroom ten was a dungeon of a room. Made of a dark stone, its immense walls seemed inclined to drink the dim light that the sparse splattering of torches threw off. They appeared like a pale gleam in the far corners, reflecting the light and accentuating the vast cavernous feel of the room.

It was difficult not to fidget; considering the melancholy atmosphere, yet some how Narcissa fought against her body's urge to do so.

"They must be kept in ignorance and deception." The Dark Lord's words sonorously rose out of the depth of memory. "It has to be a performance worthy of applause."

She needed to keep a cool exterior and fidgeting about; like some errant teenager, would hardly aid in the conveyance of beguilement.

A scattering of plum-coloured robes amongst an array of black; each embroidered with a silver W of the Wizengamot, shimmered dully in the murky light, as their owners conversed in a low rumbling hum. They were a pale, dusky blush hue amongst the gloom of the chamber and did nothing to ease the nerves that Narcissa was feeling. Changes had been made in their line-up; Fudge's influence and preference of course, but they were the audience to impress.

"It is unfortunate that matters have come to this." The Minister's voice echoed morosely about the room. "But the correct procedures must be followed. I hope you understand Lucius?" Regret laced his words as distressed furrowed his aged brow.

"Of course." Weary resignation appeared to cripple her husband's strong frame but Narcissa's skilled and well acquainted eyes, could detect the small smug smile that tugged at Lucius's lips.

Since the Potter boy's incriminating interview in that ridiculous excuse of a tabloid; The Quibbler, small-scale and frankly lack luster attempts had been made to determine the real facts concerning the Dark Lord's rising. Potentially problematic; considering the out come at the Triwizard tournament and recent disappearances, yet so far none had been a cause for real panic. It was the seemingly non-existent goings on of a particular wizard, that teased at the real danger.

The Dark Lord was no fool, he knew however furtive Dumbledore pretended to be, he would be working strenuously behind the scenes to bring him down. As such, the Dark Lord was most insistent that a worthy display of righteous justice had to happen. He realised that denials; however abundant, would not silence all into submission.

Fudge was stridently opposed to the idea, feeling that such accusations were trumped up and insulting. He had not been in favour of bringing the matter to trial; owing no doubt, to the fortunate benefit of not having the gentle persuasions of the Dark Lord at his ear. However Cornelius was easily manipulated and the matter was soon ratified. And so Narcissa found herself in the perplexing situation, where she was actually encouraging the possible ruination of her husband, for the greater good of the Dark Lord's cause of course. Not that she was overally concerned; not really, but with the presence of a certain someone, she couldn't help but be a little anxious.

The man in question sat a few seats down from her, a stoic expression adorning his face as he sat silently observing. Even with a host of darken and pale shades of space that intervened between them, could not diminish the intimidating aura that Albus Dumbledore gave off.

"Shell we proceed? I have better things to be doing today."

The resentment that filled Fudge's voice, was the most harsh Narcissa had ever heard from the portly man. He really was oblivious to Lucius's dark nature, as such truly believed; thanks to honeyed words and generous donations, that he and Lucius were good friends. A beneficial misinterpretation for their part.

"The court has been brought into session for the disciplinary hearing of the 12th of August, for the alleged offences committed by Mr Lucius Malfoy, resident of Malfoy Manor Wiltshire. Interrogators Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic. Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Ignatius David Forsyte. The stated allegations are of those for the accused of being a Death Eater. Instigator of said claim Mr Harry James Potter, resident of number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." His entire posture bunched up; like that of a clenched fist, becoming more contracted as he read further through the parchment. It was clear he detested being here, feeling this to be nothing more than a waste of time. "Allegations I might add, presented to us in the form of a much publicised interview, that appeared this summer within the Quibbler. A method in which I believe displays the most grosses of acts, calculative of discrediting a wizard's good name." The sigh that followed may well have been heard in the offices above, for the exaggerated effort that Fudge lent to it. "Do you deny these allegations Lucius?" It could only be described as supplication, the way in which he addressed her husband with such a bowed and lowered head.

"Yes of course. I must profess astonishment, that such insinuations have been made against me." His stance in turn becoming lame with angry defiance.

"As am I." The Minister replied vehemently. "As reputations goes, yours is considered one of the most generous and consistent." From his seat in the centre of the courtroom, Lucius peered up at the Minister with an abashed, awkward demeanour. "What's more, I can safely say that I have the agreement of all present. That both the work and in the support in which you have given to the Ministry over the years, far exceeds that of any human good will." At which point Fudge cast his gaze about, as if in the act of rallying support.

Narcissa's eyes too ran quickly over the Wizengamot, staring with a haughty contempt as she welcomed the sea of nobs that rippled about her. Until inevitably her attention was drawn to Dumbledore. Who; now appearing to have lost all interest in the run of events, seemed completely immersed in a conversation with a witch, with whom the dull leaded light of the court failed to illuminate satisfactorily.

"In hindsight, let us not forget that as we are considering reputations, The Quibbler can hardly be called a reputable magazine. That as practice, it will often invent the most bizarre in order to retain its unique qualities." A low hum of laughter met these words, as Fudge puffed out his chest in a display of pompous loathing. "I believe that one such article involved the lunatic theory, that Sirius Black was actually the reclusive rock star Stubby Boardman! I need not say any more on the reliability of the facts that appear within this magazine."

As the rest of the room succumbed to laughter Narcissa; not amused in the slightest, watched the crippling chorus of gaiety with an air of patronizing superiority. Even Lucius was allowing his mirth to show! It was pathetic. How stupid could they be? And these were the people who were effectively running the wizarding community.

She sighed heavily. It was lucky they were so gullible she supposed, it certainly made their task easier. But!

While the court were engaged in their gaieties, Narcissa's attention was suddenly attracted by the somberly impressive silence of Dumbledore and the witch beside him. Sat far back into the second row as they were, their lack of amusement was only too palpable. Clenching her teeth in annoyance, Narcissa was determined not to notice them anymore; these sanctimonious little acts of intimidation of theirs, would not work. Did Dumbledore really think he could affect this trial?

In the background Cornelius whittled on but she was hardly listening, catching only the odd word, like. "Unfounded animosity." "Draco." And "Hogwarts." For at that precise moment the witch sitting to the right of Dumbledore, with her face still in shadow, had moved forward suddenly. Leaning close she began whispering into his ear. He glanced back at her once; frowning, before inclining his head in a little bow.

Narcissa's eyes widen momentarily, as she felt a horrible sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Something about that whole exchange was very odd.

The witch sitting to the right of Dumbledore, with her face in shadow, had moved forwards suddenly. Leaning close she began whispering into...

She stared at the aged wizard, willing him to give her some clue.

Had moved forwards suddenly...

She watched almost hypnotised, the play of light that dance about Dumbledore's face; capturing the fine lines that etched out a story of obtained years and wisdom.

Leaning close she...

And then it hit her. The light!

"...was actually the reclusive rock star Stubby Boardman! I need not say any more on the reliability of the facts that appear within this magazine." Lucius snorted derisively as he shook his head in reproach.

'Fools!'

It should have been disconcerting, the lack of intelligence going around. Should have been unsettling that the might of the Ministry, could display such an aptitude towards being manipulated. Add that to a setting dominated by deep shadows and low lighting and this feeling of utter contentment, really did stand at odds.

The transformation of Fudge was quite astonishing and Lucius was proud to say, that he had a hand in it. The eradication of the influential from office; such as Amelia Bones, the head of Magical Law Enforcement, was a particular favourite of his. Quite a turn around from the man who had inserted the vaguely amusing inefficiency of office. The Fudge of old was totally unrecognisable, in his place sat now a malicious man who delighted in his own self-serving corruption.

"You must forgive my candid approach." Said Fudge, still smirking as he offered a half-hearted attempt at an apology. "But I find these accusations most insulting and ludicrous." Lucius would forgive him anything, so long as it stuck with the expectations that the Dark Lord had for today's proceedings. "We should take into consideration that such claims, may well be deprived from Harry's unfounded animosity he appears to harbour towards Lucius's son Draco. I have in fact acquired statements." Extricating a piece of parchment from the midst of the pile before him. "From Hogwarts students; Vincent Crabbe and one Gregory Goyle, that confirm Harry blatantly flaunts his hatred of the young Mr Malfoy at Hogwarts for all to see."

Family loyalty was a valued philosophy that Lucius had enforced early on in Draco's life. Whether a family thrives or withers, wasn't just determined by the head alone, all played their part. The solution? Gain complete control! That was the best strategy. Loyalty to your family was a concept that far exceeded simple bonds of blood. He was proud of Draco for remembering that.

A powerful emotion had risen in Lucius, an invigorating, strengthening feeling that only thoughts of his noble lineage had ever been able to impart. He wanted to catch Narcissa's eyes, wanted her to share in his delight of what was undoubtedly the irreversible ramifications of their scheme unfolding, but she was not looking his way; instead she had turned her attention towards the benches, towards a particular person in which his numerous informants had explicitly stated had left the country. Yet in fact sat; with an expression of polite interest, but a few seats away.

Far back into the second row, the antiquated wizard bowed his head as a witch; whose face seemed completely immersed in shadow, whispered something into his ear.

Lucius frowned up at the pair. What was Dumbledore up to? It was almost unprecedented, a hearing in which he remained completely silent.

"Let us not forget." Said Fudge, diverting Lucius's attention. "That the other alleged Death Eaters identified, are those in which have been previously cleared by the Wizengamot." He continued, glaring all the while at Dumbledore from over the top of the parchment. "How could the boy possibly acquire those specific names? Well it is only too easy if someone is particularly well acquainted." The lines around Dumbledore's mouth tightened slightly, though he gave no other sign that he had been offended by what had come dangerously close to naming him as the instigator of such.

The members of the Wizengamot were all muttering, no doubt in awed surprised at Fudge's boldness. All eyes were now on Dumbledore. Some looked shocked, others slightly frightened; but the general consensus seemed to support the Minister's words.

Lucius sneered openly as he watched Dumbledore's obvious displeasure. Who would have thought? Fudge the turn coat, blatantly attempting to rally support against his once friend and all but mentor? It was the type of poetic justice that Lucius; even a few days ago, would never have thought possible.

Dumbledore cleared his throat sharply. The Wizengamot instantly fell silent. The witch next to the muggle loving fool began to fidget, once again drawing Lucius's attention.

He swallowed hard, his heart suddenly racing as the longer he stared at her the more he felt himself begin to shift uncomfortably.

"As we have neither a reliable witnesses, or a credible account against your person. I can therefore only naturally assume that such statements against you are biased." Said Fudge loftily, though his words this time were no longer enough of a distraction. "What's more a vicious attempt to disgrace your good character."

Lucius scrunched up his eyes, squinting imploringly, desperate to unearth any telling feature, but the shadow held fast around her face.

"You have presented to the Wizengamot an adequate account as to your whereabouts on the night of the tragic death of Cedric Diggory. And can be accountable for by many witnesses as to the plausibility towards such. I have right here before me." The Minister boomed, as he brandished a stack of parchments. "The testimonies of several people, who can swear to having seen Mr Malfoy at the Ministry during the time of the Triwizard event. Furthermore, stated witnesses can atone for his presence throughout the entire duration of the final task."

There was something oddly familiar about that witch; the posture, the cut of her robes, it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But why? Who was she? One possible explanation flirted at the recesses of understanding but he may as well have grasped at smoke, for all the success he was having at recalling it.

"Yes." Said Fudge, shuffling his notes. "All satisfactory. Then if I am to have the agreement of all presence?" Some of the witches and wizards around him nodded "Then with all things considered and with the exemplary collection of supporting testimonies, there can only be one final route left for us to take. Those in favour of clearing the witness of all charges."

Lucius's head jerked around. There were hands in the air, many of them, at least the entire court. Breathing fast, he tried to steady his nerves. He had to remember why he was he. He could not afford to be distracted, even if the witch had put him on edge.

"Those against." Dumbledore raised his hand; so did the witch on his right. The Minister glanced around at them looking like the herald of a triumphant procession. "Excellent!" He beamed smugly. "Cleared of all charges."

Dumbledore stood up, surprising Lucius with his quickness before making his way down the stone steps. His mysterious veiled companion however, remained seated.

A surge of wizards and witches were getting to their feet. A beaming Fudge had gathered up a fawning Umbridge; sparing Lucius only time enough for an indulgent smile before the pair made their hasty retreat, each congratulating the other on their unparalleled success. While all around he could hear the sound of echoed footsteps.

And through the chaos of it all, he could feel her eyes upon him.

Dumbledore's abrupt flight took Narcissa completely by surprise. So much so that she remained sitting where she was, struggling with her feelings of both shock and relief. The Wizengamot were all getting to their feet, talking and gathering in small groups. They had fallen into urgent, whispered conversations; no doubt they had expected the hearing to last longer. Lucius had not really said much, Fudge had done all the work. Perhaps they; like she, had expected Dumbledore to make some sort of impression.

Feeling rather shaken, Narcissa looked across at the rapidly emptying benches and discovered to her dismay that the witch was still seated and was now; from the direction of her head, gazing down at Lucius with a hatred that her veiled face failed to mask.

Narcissa felt winded, as though she had just walked into something solid; she could feel her stomach lurch threateningly as she eyed the witch closely. Her heart, which seemed to have swollen to an unnatural size, was thumping loudly under her ribs as she cast a frightened look from Lucius to the witch and back again.

There was only one woman who could make her feel like this. One woman who could cause that agitated look on her husband's face. Only one woman who would have cause to hide her face so.

A woman she had desperately hoped was dead.

Dumbledore stopped near the heavy iron door, his hand outstretched towards its handle before he turned; eyes staring imploringly towards his wayward companion. She seemed to sense his intensity as; with no words spoken, she instantly sprang to her feet briskly gliding down the stone benches to quickly draw level. Upon which received a chastising look from the wizard before her.

It was a large dungeon, dimly lit and encompassed by walls of dark stone. Though poor, the lightening was reasonable sufficient; impossibly however as Lucius watched as his pale face slackened, it's dulled, deaden splendour failed to penetrate even an inch of the shadow that clung around her face.

He swallowed hard as panic gripped him. A sudden overwhelming feeling of fear surged, a heart stopping contraction of depression bloomed. It was irrational yet for some reason he feared the witch leaving.

Just as they made it through the dungeon door, Narcissa screamed. It jarred Lucius rigid. He had not realised that he had moved, let alone with his arm outstretched as though in the attempt to stop them. As the shock began to ebb away, he realised that the scream; which had at first seemed to scorch his ears with urgency, had in fact barely been a shout. The occupants were still filing out in a manner of stilted animation, the drone of whispered conversations continued on in an unbroken chord. Here he stood, still at the centre of it all.

"Lucius?" The false scream pleaded once more. "Lets go."

His answering nod was barely movement. He felt stunned as comprehension dawned raw and sudden. He knew who the witch was.