"Have you seen the paper?" Ron asked out of revulsion.
"Trying not to," Hermione murmured, reading over her notes.
"The things they write. It makes me want to hurl," Ron muttered, stomping to the kitchen and banging pans on the counter as he made coffee.
"Precisely why I don't read them," Hermione said.
"Smart woman," Ron said. "And when's Harry's evaluation?"
Hermione glanced at the clock. "Happening right now."
Healer Lance Porter scanned his file, arching his brow when he read the name. Harry Potter had been there no more than a fortnight ago. And now he was back? He scanned the sheets, opening the door. "We're back, are we, Mr. Potter?" he murmured, not expecting a reply.
"Yes," Harry said quietly.
Lance tripped over his feet, looking up. He ogled the man before him. He looked nothing like the Harry Potter the Healer had seen the first time. Gone were the hospital pajamas. This man donned a green blazer with a white shirt, grey tailored slacks, and polished shoes. Gone was the lost expression, replaced by warm eyes and a nervous smile. Lance snapped out of his reverie and trotted towards the table, curious. "Have a seat, Mr. Potter," he said, gesturing to the chair.
"Harry's fine."
"Harry it is," Lance smiled, sitting down. "Shall we begin?" he asked. Harry nodded, fidgeting with his hands. "No need to be nervous. You can't possibly do worse than last time," the Healer said, watching for appropriate emotions.
Harry blushed, dropping his eyes to the tabletop. "I– um… that– er… I'll do better," he stammered.
Lance nodded, feeling optimistic already. This was such a stark difference. Answering all the simple questions seemed to ease Harry into the procedure. His anxiety ebbed away. He answered the inquiries as precisely as was required of him. Then came the questions on the incident in the forest.
"You were hit with the Killing Curse, am I right?"
"Yes."
"Can you explain what happened after you fell?"
Harry nodded. "I was unconscious for a bit. I don't know how long. When I came to, I heard the Death Eaters getting agitated. I could hear Bellatrix Lestrange. It sounded like she was trying to revive Voldemort. I pretended to be dead. After Voldemort got up, he asked Narcissa Malfoy to examine me to see if I was dead. She walked up to me and knelt down. She checked for breathing and lifted my eyelid. She touched my chest. I was clearly alive. She asked me, 'Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?' I replied, 'Yes.' She announced that I was dead." Harry looked up at Lance. "And that's what happened."
"And who is this Draco?" Lance asked, writing furiously.
"Narcissa's son."
"How did you know that he was alive?"
"Last time I saw him, he was alive in the castle."
Lanced nodded. Then he flicked his eyes at Harry, putting down his quill. "If you had said no, what do you think she would have done?" he asked.
Harry looked taken aback by the question. "Pardon?" he asked.
"If Draco was dead, what do you think she would have done?"
Harry blinked rapidly, shaking his head. "I– I don't know," he stammered. "I've never… I've never thought of it."
"Something to think about," Lance said airily. "We're done here. Thank you, Harry."
"Alright, Harry. No need to panic. It'll go quite smoothly," Hermione said, near hyperventilation. "Just answer all of his question truthfully. Don't try to bend the responses. I'll do the rest. You just–"
"Hermione, calm down! I'll be fine," Harry said, laughing at his friend. "I'm more worried about you than me, to be honest."
"I'll be fine. I'll be fine."
"Keep telling yourself that," Harry said. Ron rolled his eyes at the two, trying to keep Rose quiet. Just getting Harry to Wizengamot was an ordeal. The press wouldn't leave them be. Thankfully, reporters were not allowed into the second floor of the Ministry. They escaped the cameras and fluttering quills before Harry could be swarmed.
"Should we go inside?" Ron asked.
Hermione glanced at her watch, shifting her weight nervously. "Yes. We probably should," she said.
The courtroom was buzzing with soft whispers and murmurs. The members sat in a wide arch, standing four rows high and taking up half the room. There were no spectators allowed. The defendants took their seats along the sides. In the middle of the dark room was a chair where the accused was to sit. Hermione was perched on the edge of her seat. Harry scanned the quiet members of Wizengamot. They were staring at him with mild surprise. He smiled back politely, uncomfortable.
"You better get used to it, mate," Ron whispered, nudging Harry.
Harry tried to keep from rolling his eyes. His gaze caught on the door when it opened. Draco walked in, straightening his tie. "He's not allowed in here," Harry hissed, a scowl forming on his face.
"I work here, Harry," Hermione muttered. "I can pull strings." Harry looked positively outraged as she spoke. She waved Draco over. Draco approached carefully, sidling past the barrier and towards them. Harry kept his eyes averted. "How are you holding up?" Hermione asked.
"I'm fine," Draco said, sitting beside Harry.
The Azkaban guards brought Narcissa in a minute later. Harry felt Draco stiffen against him. Narcissa wore the striped uniform worn by prisoners and had cuffed wrists. They were unbound once she was seated on the chair. Draco looked away, wondering if his mother would mind him seeing her like this. The guards stepped away, moving to the back of the room.
The Court Scribe stood up and cleared his throat. "All rise for the Minister of Magic," he said. Loud shuffling of feet sounded as everyone stood up. Kingsley Shacklebolt entered the room and took his place in the middle of the members. "Court is now in session," the Scribe said. The members and defendants sat down as one.
Kingsley read the parchments in front of him. "This trial is in regards to Narcissa Malfoy's wrongful imprisonment in Azkaban prison and possible reevaluation of the sentence dealt. Defendant, please state your case," he said.
Narcissa said, "Hermione Jean Weasley shall speak for me."
Kingsley nodded at Hermione. She nodded back grimly, standing up and walking to the front of the room. "The defendant has been wrongfully imprisoned in Azkaban and, in lieu of evidence that has been found, should be considered a sentence much less severe – house arrest," she said.
"You may interview the defendant," Kingsley said.
Hermione turned to Narcissa. "Please state your name for the court."
"Narcissa Malfoy."
"The reason you were sent to Azkaban?"
"Treason."
"How many years did you serve in the prison?"
"Five years."
Hermione nodded. "Mrs. Malfoy, have you ever used an Unforgivable Curse?" she asked.
"No," Narcissa added.
Hermione glanced at the members. "This can be verified on the wand that is currently under the Ministry custody," she said. She turned to Narcissa again. "Have you been marked?"
"No."
"Why?"
Narcissa blinked at the question. "I… I didn't wish to be marked. I was never forced into it," she said.
"What were you affiliations with the Dark army?"
Narcissa swallowed loudly. "My… my family is affiliated with the Dark Army. My sister, brothers-in-law, husband, and– and son were Death Eaters," she said, looking pained.
"And yet you were never asked to join?" Hermione asked.
"It was an elite circle," Narcissa said weakly.
Hermione left it at that. "Voldemort used your home as his headquarters during the year of the War. Why?" she asked.
Narcissa flicked his eyes at Draco, who was looking at her intently. "We were being punished," she murmured.
"For what?"
"For… Lucius' actions. His mistakes."
"Lucius is…"
"My husband. Lucius Malfoy."
"What did this punishment entail?" Hermione asked.
Narcissa took in an unsteady breath. "We were to surrender our home to the Dark Lord. He took away Lucius' wand. Draco was…" Her voice broke. Draco was shaking in his seat, anger boiling through him. Harry's knee pressed against his. He looked at Harry in shock. He wondered if Harry realized. Harry's eyes stayed on Hermione and Narcissa. Draco felt his anger dying down as he quickly glanced away. "Draco was marked and given the mission to kill Albus Dumbledore. We were isolated," Narcissa finished.
"And that is how you find yourself in the Forbidden Forest, separated from your family and in the presence of Voldemort?"
"Yes," Narcissa murmured.
Hermione looked up at Kingsley. "I now wish to call upon Harry James Potter as the primary witness," she said.
"Proceed," Kingsley said.
Narcissa was escorted out of her chair and made to sit at the back of the room with the guards. Harry got up nervously and stepped past Draco, not looking at him once. Draco was more than perplexed.
Harry took the seat, squirming under the watchful eyes of the members.
"Please state your name for the court," Hermione said, trying to provide comfort with her tone of voice.
"Harry James Potter."
"Where were you the night of May 2, 1998?"
"In Hogwarts. Later, the Forbidden Forest."
"Can you tell us the events that transpired in the forest?"
Harry took a deep breath and started talking. He provided lengthy details of Narcissa's large role in helping him escape. He talked about how the Narcissa's lie was sparked from her fear for her family and reluctance in letting Voldemort win. He finished off by recounting the battle in the Great Hall where the Malfoys did not fight for either side. Once he was finished he looked at Hermione for approval. She smiled and nodded.
"A question," one of the members interjected, raising his hand. Hermione stepped back. "Why are you coming forward now? Why not five years ago?" he asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from Harry.
"I was… admitted into St. Mungo's," Harry said. "After the War, I had a difficult time coping with the losses."
"And now you are treated?"
"I believe so," Harry said, nodding.
The member smiled sheepishly. "Forgive me for playing the devil's advocate, but I must ask. How can we be sure that your memory serves right?" he asked.
Harry frowned at him. "I– um… I am willing to show you the memory," he said hesitantly.
Another member cleared her throat. "We have done a thorough investigation of your psych records. The last testimony you gave us was done so in an almost incoherent state. This testimony is rather impressive for a man who was under full supervision from an attending just two week ago. The logs indicate that Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy visited you several times over the period of months. Has this affected your judgment?"
"This has nothing to do with my treatment," Harry said, frowning. "I needed to tell you what happened that night. And I have."
The members nodded, looking at each other. "We would like to see your memory as well as the defendant's," Kingsley said. "Please bring the defendant to the chair."
Harry got up and walked back to Ron and Draco. He let out a slow puff of breath as he sat down, feeling his nerves loosening. He massaged his temple, trying to get rid of the ache that persisted. "Thank you." He looked up in surprise. Draco was watching him intently.
Harry shook his head. "Like I said, I didn't do it for you," he murmured.
Draco nodded slowly. "Thank you, anyway."
The next hour passed with rigorous questioning and the gathering of evidence, both verbal and memories. Harry and Narcissa were thoroughly exhausted by the end of it, neither used to being in the presence of so many people at once. During the ten-minute break, Harry was leaning against the wall outside the room, watching Hermione run over her closing remarks. "Since they have my memory now, they won't need to question me anymore, will they?" he asked.
"No," she murmured absently. "They'll just compare what you said to what they see. Then the decision is up to them."
"Good," Harry mumbled. "Because I don't think I…" He slid down the wall, faint. He heard voices around him, coming nearer. He closed his eyes, shaking his head to get rid of his lightheadedness.
"Harry."
He jerked at the loud sound, blinking up at Ron who was holding him steady. "S– sorry," he stammered, swallowing hard to wet his throat. "Just dizzy."
Hermione scowled at him. "Did you eat breakfast?" she asked, miffed. Rose patted Harry's cheek sympathetically.
"Wasn't hungry," Harry murmured, sitting down with his knees propped up. He squeezed Rose's hand comfortingly. He took long calming breaths. "I'm fine. I'm– I'm not used to this, that's all," he assured them. He glanced to the right, suddenly noticing Draco, crouching down with Ron and Hermione. "This is so embarrassing," Harry muttered, trying to get up. Ron kept him seated with firm hands on his shoulders.
"Water?" Draco asked, holding out a glass he had conjured.
"Yes, drink," Hermione said, looking none too pleased.
Harry took the cup begrudgingly, finishing the cool water in three gulps. "See? I'm fine," he said, pushing Ron's hands off of him and getting up. Draco caught him when he swayed. Harry pushed him away. "I'm fine," he muttered chillingly, stepping away from Draco. "We should go back inside."
The elevators pinged open. Reporters, cameras, and spectators swarmed around the occupants. Hermione and Ron led the way. Harry followed with Narcissa and Draco in tow. Questions rushed at them from all sides.
"Harry Potter! Where have you been for the past five years?"
"Look, there's Harry Potter! See his scar?"
"What evidence was presented to the Minister?"
"Is Narcissa Malfoy under house arrest?"
"Will she be given her wand back?"
"They're letting Death Eaters out? Oh my gosh!"
"Mrs. Weasley, isn't this political suicide?"
"Mr. Potter, are you sympathizing with the Dark army?"
"Look at the scum he is defending…"
Draco whipped around, at the end of his rope. But before he could speak…
"STOP!"
Draco's heart jumped with fright as he turned to Harry who was looking deadly with his sparking green eyes and clenching jaw. "Stop it right now!" Harry said loudly. The crowd was silenced in an instant. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated. "Here is my statement. Write it down," he said tiredly. Quills were ready at hand.
"I don't tolerate prejudices. I never have and I never will. Don't draw conclusions from half-truths. I am defending Mrs. Malfoy because she is the reason I am alive today. And if she is the reason I am alive today, then you will agree that you owe her your lives as well. I will stand by my decision until I die. Understood?"
The people were left a shocked mass. Hermione grabbed Harry hand and pulled him along the sea of reporters. Draco urged his mother forward as well. They weaved through the crowd and made their way towards the Floo Network. Once they reached the large fireplaces, they paused. Harry was relatively calm now. Hermione hugged him quickly. "You did great," she said, beaming proudly.
"Does this surprise you?" Harry asked, gesturing at the reporters.
She sighed. "Not really. Families with Death Eater ties are often treated that way," she said.
Harry nodded absently. "I guess we have work to do, don't we?" he said, smiling.
"Guess we do," she said, optimism blooming in her.
"Harry…"
Harry turned to Narcissa. "I– um… sorry about that," he said hesitantly.
"Thank you," Narcissa said sincerely. "I don't know how to… I wish there was something more I could do," she said, near tears.
"Like I said, you saved my life, Mrs. Malfoy. I'm just returning the favor," Harry insisted.
Narcissa hugged Harry. "Thank you for giving me my life back," she said.
"You're welcome," Harry replied.
Narcissa felt her mind stop racing. She could finally think. She was about to pull away from Harry when she felt his grip tightening. "Can you keep Draco safe?" he whispered hurriedly.
Narcissa heard the question and her thoughts couldn't keep up. "Yes," she breathed.
Harry let go of her. They stepped back in unison. "Now we're even, I suppose," Harry said, shrugging.
"I suppose," Narcissa murmured, searching Harry's expression and drawing blank.
Harry looked at Ron. "To your place?" he asked.
"It's a pigsty. But if you insist," Ron answered. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. He laughed and moved closer to the Floo, calling out their destination.
"Goodbye," Harry said to Narcissa.
"Goodbye," she repeated.
Harry glanced at Rose and held out his arms. "Let's go, shall we, Princess?" he asked. She giggled, nearly leaping onto him. He stepped into the fire with her in his arms, disappearing in an instant.
Draco stared at the empty fireplace, feeling somewhat hollow.
Hermione wasn't kidding when she explained the discrimination felt by families who had the misfortune of being labeled Death Eater families, Slytherins, and Durmstrangs. "I guess it was a bad idea for me to disappear, huh?" Harry asked sarcastically.
She turned away from the simmering dinner. "It's just that… the people think what they are doing is justified. I mean, the Dark army ruined many lives. So they are hell driven to ruin the lives of anyone associated with the Dark army. Tit for tat," she said.
"Why aren't you bitter? Like them?" Harry asked.
"I was," Hermione murmured, turning away. "I was bitter for a long while. But when Rose was born, I… I guess I realized I wanted the world to be different for her. It was Voldemort when we grew up. I don't want it to be like that for her. Imagine what it must be going on at Hogwarts, Harry. Imagine the children in Slytherin. I hope the staff takes care to keep the real world away from school…"
"Hogwarts…"
"I haven't been since the War," Hermione said. "I don't know if I can handle it, you know?"
"I know."
"We should visit, shouldn't we?"
Harry laughed. "What? Like a five year reunion?"
"Something like that," she said, laughing with him.
Harry let his chuckles die down into a smile. Which quickly dropped into a confused frown. And then into a horrified expression. "Oh god," he breathed, gripping the counter to keep from dropping to his knees. "Oh my god…"
"What?" Hermione asked, holding Harry in place.
"I– I didn't– oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he swore, wriggling out of Hermione's grip. "DAMN IT!" he shouted, grabbing a plate and smashing it against the wall. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" He gripped his throbbing head, easing himself onto the ground so he wouldn't faint again.
Hermione stayed away, terrified. "Harry…" she murmured shakily.
"I– I'm sorry," Harry said, breathing unsteadily. He used his trembling hands to pick up the shards. "I– there's so much I need to do, Hermione. So much I need everyone to know. About… about Snape and Dumbledore and Voldemort. So much I have to say." He felt panic creeping in again. "Fuck, this is all my fault!" He sat back, squeezing his eyes shut. "Why can't I be stronger? Five years! I– I was– there's so much I need to do."
"Tell me," Hermione said, kneeling down next to Harry. She wrapped her arms around him. "Tell me anything you want."
Draco was reading the Daily Prophet while sipping on his morning coffee. A rustling sounded on the table. A copy of the Quibbler slid towards him. He frowned and looked up at Narcissa. "Read it," she said, her eyes glistening. "Harry did an interview. And it's… remarkable. About Severus…"
Draco frowned at his mother, putting down the Prophet and picking up the Quibbler slowly.
"He overreacts quite a bit," Hermione said. "He's being hard on himself. He keeps it quiet most of the time. But I can see it in him."
"How so?" Joseph asked.
"I think he blames himself for… well, he calls it losing control. He think that if he were stronger, he wouldn't have ended up here," she waved at the office, meaning the asylum.
"How is his health?"
"Has no appetite to speak of," Hermione murmured. "Barely eats. Barely sleeps. Keeps telling me there's too much to do. He's going to burn himself out."
"Barely sleeps as in nightmares?" Joseph asked, writing everything down.
"I think he's afraid of getting them. I've never heard him have them. He's usually quite loud when he does," Hermione said.
"Well… He's coming in tomorrow. I know what to look for now," Joseph murmured, preoccupied with the notes he had just written. "Thanks for dropping by."