Author's Note: Hey everyone, sorry to be misleading, but this isn't an update, though I will say that a reread of this chapter would be beneficial as I've changed a few details to fit with the way i am rehashing the plot line for this story. I'm in the process of revamping the story to make it more original and carry out the point I want to make better. Let me know what you think of the changes.
Warnings: Female Harry, Draco/Harry, Courtroom sequences and minor cursing.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own the song for which this chapter's title was taken. The song is Unchained by Lacuna Coil. Go check it out. I also do not own anything related to Unorthodox Matchmakers.
Consonance 3055
Unchained
Harrity Potter wasn't just nervous as all hell. She was absolutely terrified. She abhorred public speaking on a regular day, but adding the Wizengamot into the equation just made the whole ordeal downright nauseating.
She hadn't been nearly this anxious as when it had been herself on trial. Okay, maybe she had been, but that hearing had been so long ago it hardly seemed to matter anymore. No, this time it wasn't her future on the line. This time, her word could mean the difference between life imprisonment, even execution, and freedom for three people she hardly even knew, let alone liked.
"So you're really going to go through with this?"
"I have to, Ron. You don't understand."
"We know, Harry," inserted Hermione. "But we can't help but worry. What if someone decides to turn this against you? What if-"
"The opinion of some daft extremist is the last thing I'm worried about right now, Hermione."
"But, Harry-"
"You don't think I'm scared, Hermione. I'm absolutely petrified, but I can't back out. I owe it to them to at least get the Wizengamot to lighten the sentence."
Truth be told, she doubted she'd be able to sleep at night if she didn't go through with it. The last thing that family deserved was more suffering.
Ron and Hermione were looking at her with expressions of exasperation and sympathy, respectively. They'd both tried to convince her that it wasn't necessary, that there had been plenty of people there to witness the defection. But they were wrong. There was a part of the story only she could tell, and it was a part that had to be told. Ron's reasoning, however, might've been a tad harsher.
"They're Death Eaters, Harry. You don't owe them anything."
"They were Death Eaters, Ron. And while that may or may not be true, I still have my honor to uphold."
That seemed to consol the redhead, and her best friend sighed at her.
"Alright, mate. You've got to do what you've got to do."
"Thanks, Ron."
He nodded at her with a small smile. Hermione put her hand on his shoulder in approval.
"We'll wait here for you, Harry."
"Right," she said. "I'll see you in a bit."
And Harrity turned to face the steel door before her. The guard gave her an incredulous look. Oh for the sake of all Wizardom, really. To think, after all that preamble she might not be able to convince the doorman of all people to let her into the courtroom. For a moment, she feared she might have to force her way in – because she would get in, that was never a question – but then recognition dawned in his features. Granted, he looked about ready to scold her.
"You do realize that trial started a while ago."
"Yes, sir, and I'm sorry, I'm late, but I really do need to get in there."
He looked at her critically, but he eventually conceded, unlocking the door.
"Good luck, Miss Potter."
"Thank you."
And she stepped through the opened door into the courtroom and joint trial of the family Malfoy.
His head hurt. Everything seemed fuzzy and distorted. He wasn't if certain it was due to the infrequent exposure he'd had to dementors or the constant ramblings of ministry personnel he'd had to endure over the last few months, but Draco was sure that he couldn't take much more of this without suffering severe mental and physical damage. He felt humiliated and angry, but most of all exhausted. He just wanted everything to end. The investigations, the searches, the interrogations, and most of all this bloody trial.
He wasn't the only one.
Narcissa Malfoy, though the perfect picture of poise and diginity, was looking frayed around the edges, and his father, Lucius, back ram-rod straight with pride, looked drained, the little color he normally carried all but gone from his shadowed face.
They, he and his parents, had been chained, shackled, tied down in this courtroom for the last hour, and Draco wasn't sure when it would all be over. If you asked Draco, he'd tell you this trial was a sham. His father was convinced that there wasn't a power in the world that could save them from Azkaban, and despite the testimonies that were being given for their behalf, Draco couldn't help but agree with Lucius.
None of the Wizengamot looked convinced. In fact, it seemed the majority wasn't even listening, save for a select few. Hardly enough to wave a conviction.
Professor McGonagall had just completed her testimony of having witnessed the Malfoys stop fighting on You-Know-Who's behalf at the Battle for Hogwarts, and the newly elected Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was speaking.
"Very well, thank you Professor McGonagall. Do we have any other witnesses-"
"With all do respect, Minister," inserted Pius Thicknesse, recovered from his time under the Imperius Curse and assuming his position as the Head of Magical Law Enforcement once again. "It is my belief that the defense has been given plenty of opportunity to prove their innocence. Though I suspect most of us would agree that the sentiment is somewhat useless. After all, has not Lucius Malfoy already once served in Azkaban for the conviction of acting as a Death Eater? A sentence for which he was not released but evacuated by the Dark Lord, himself."
The surrounding witches and wizards looked on in only mild surprise, but no one denied the claim. Next to Draco, his father seethed.
"My sins, Thicknesse, have no reflection on the innocence of my family!"
"He's right, Thicknesse," said Shacklebolt. "You make a severe insinuation."
"Yes, yes, Minister. I apologize, but if none of our brethren are opposed I would like to call to vote the verdict of the Wizengamot on this day the 15th of August for the family Malfoy."
Shacklebolt studied Thicknesse carefully, suspicion and disapproval apparent in his gaze, before addressing the rest of the council.
"Are there any, other than myself, who oppose this?"
Silence.
"Very well, Pius. You may proceed."
"Thank you, Minister." The head of law enforcement cleared his throat airily. "We are here today to decide the guilt or innocence of the three individuals Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy, who are here today under the charges of dealing and consorting with known dark wizards and witches, functioning as accomplices to the heinous crimes of Lord Voldemort, and in the case of Mr. Lucius Malfoy and Mr. Draco Malfoy serving as servants of the Dark Lord under the title of Death Eater. All those who find the defendants guilty, please-"
"Witness for the defense, Harrity James Potter."
A murmur traversed the crowd, and Harrity James Potter, looking for all the world exactly like one would expect the witch that saved the wizarding world to look, stepped boldly into the courtroom, wand in hand – the very one she'd won from Lord Voldemort himself. Her robes, business-styled for the occasion, bustled about her, and the witch's hat on her head slanted over her eyes just enough to prove mysterious. Draco's mother and father exchanged cursory glances over Draco's head, confusion and trace amounts of distrust apparent on their faces. Potter certainly knew how to make a statement when she felt the need.
Thicknesse, for all his pomp and circumstance, actually stuttered.
"M-Miss P-Potter. I-I am sorry but we've already decided to vote."
"Yes, I noticed, Mr. Thicknesse, and I apologize for my tardiness, but I have something important to say."
"M-Miss I'm a-afraid we cannot-"
"Thicknesse, enough."
Shacklebolt's deep baritone cut across the head of department with all the inferred violence of a whip.
"The Wizengamot will recognize, now, the testimony of Miss Harrity James Potter."
"Thank you, Minister."
Potter approached the forefront of the courtroom, taking the proffered seat Professor McGonagall had vacated not moments before. When she spoke, it was with confidence. The regality of truth and conviction rang clear in her voice.
"It is impossible to deny the accusations that have been brought against the Malfoy family. They are on many counts guilty."
What the bloody hell was Potter playing at? The entire courtroom buzzed with confusion and curiousity. Draco felt the beginnings of rage bubble beneath the surface. How dare she step forward like this only to throw their name to the dogs? Had he not been currently chained to his seat, leashed like a rabid dog, he might have obeyed the urge to attack her, wand or no wand.
"However!" continued the Chosen One, firmly, "Be that as it may. It is my belief that the charges against them be dropped and the Malfoys set free without suffering imprisonment or punishment."
The effect was immediate and savage as an unleashed tornado.
Outrage sounded from the spectators and council. Demands for answers and justification of Potters words. "Why?" "How can we let them free?" "Have you gone daft!" The cacophony so great, Draco's ears began to pulse painfully in time with the racket. A pity, he couldn't move to cover them, only able to clench his fingers to the seat until they bled. The shock at her words had been too great. Any anger at the Girl-Who-Lived drained from Draco to be replaced by genuine awe and possibly a hint of shame, but he swallows that down like a dose of sour medicine. He had nothing to be ashamed of.
"Silence! Order! Order!"
Shacklebolt slammed his mallet hard onto the wood of his desk; the sound was loud enough to startle just about everyone into what can only be described as a silence of the dead. Had he not been part of the subject of debate, not to mention in fear for his life, Draco could have laughed at the looks on the Wizengamot's faces.
"Miss Potter, I must demand an explanation!"
"Not at all, Minister. I merely say that were it not for the actions taken by the accused, I would be not be standing before you today. In fact, I would very likely be dead, and by extension, Voldemort would still be alive and in power." More murmuring. Draco looked first to his father and then mother in askance. Narcissa had not turned her eyes away from The-Girl-Who-Lived since her entrance to the courtroom. She followed the younger witch's words with a mixture of dawning comprehension and newfound respect. "In fact, I owe my life twice in part to this family, once on account of Draco Malfoy, if not indirectly, and another on account of Mistress Narcissa Malfoy."
And all at once, Draco felt as though he was looking at someone he'd never met before in his entire life.
"Croaker, I think we have a problem."
"What is it, Wilby?"
The younger Unspeakable looked nervous, his hazel eyes tense and his brown hair shaggier than normal as though he'd been dragging his fingers through it too often. This was odd. Croaker had garnered the impression that Wilby was one of the utmost organized new hires the Department of Mysteries had ever had. He should know. Croaker had only been with department for nearly two decades.
"There's a problem with item 3055. I think it might be reacting to something."
"3055? You mean in the Love Chamber."
"Yes, sir."
"I see. Well let's go have a look then, shall we?"
Wilby nodded, following after Croaker. When they reached the Ever-locked room, Wilby performed the enchantment that only the workers of the department of mysteries knew, and the door to the Love Chamber creaked open, allowing Croaker and the young Unspeakable entry.
At first glance, all appeared well. The amortentia bubbled happily in its fountain. Next to it, a bookcase full of different bobs and ends: amulets, love dolls, vials of aphrodisiacs, charms, and the greatest pieces of romantic literature and poetry ever written by wizards and muggles alike. Each item was labeled and numbered, looking perfectly harmless in their resting place.
All except one, that is.
Croaker approached the discrete black-metal box warily as it shook and vibrated against the silver latch and lock holding it shut, as if whatever was inside it was trying to get out. The senior Unspeakable made to touch the lid with his wand tip, but before he could come within even an inch of it, the box gave a violent lurch clean off the shelf.
"Hmm," hummed Croaker. "Call on Jenks, will you, Wilby? He might be able to shed some light on this situation."
"Yes, sir. Right away, sir."
The junior Unspeakable scurried away to the Room of Prophecy where his target should have been, leaving Croaker alone in the Love Chamber, the little black chest still vibrating across. Despite having worked on Level 9 for so many years, Croaker had little experience with the Love Chamber. He'd been inside a fair amount of times and was familiar with the territory, but he'd never been one to study the mysteries surrounding the concept of love. His inclinations had been more toward death and mysteries of the world beyond it. There was more to fear, more to unravel, he thought.
He'd never think to be afraid of love or anything related to it, but for some reason or another watching this black chest jump and stutter across the floor put him very on edge. By Merlin's beard, what was hidden in this chamber that needed out so desperately.
"Croaker, you've asked for me."
He turned to find Wilby reentering the room followed closely by a plump, pretty little witch about half his size with rosy cheeks and sparkling blue eyes.
"Ah, Jenks. Yes, we thought you might be able to give us some insight on this."
He gestured to the still pulsing chest on the floor.
Jenks hummed in curiosity, pulling a monocle from her inside pocket.
"How intriguing."
She moved closer until she was just a mere foot from the box, while Croaker and Wilby kept their distance of a safe seven and a half.
"Did you find it like this, Wilby?"
"Y-yes, ma'am, but it was on the shelf before. It sort of threw itself off when Mr. Croaker tried to touch it."
"I see."
"What is it, Jenks?" asked Croaker.
She looked over her shoulder at him, one eye magnified behind the monocle.
"Item 3055, Mr. Croaker, has not been active in over four centuries. In fact, I don't believe this chest has ever been opened. The item in question found its way to the department in 1587 by the donation of Mrs. Anne Shakespeare (nee Hathaway) after her marriage to the muggle, William Shakespeare. She claimed the item was what brought about their love and marriage."
"Yes, but what is it?" rasped Croaker, irritated.
She glanced at him appraisingly.
"A powerful source of old magic, no doubt. Sadly, no one in the department has been able to unlock the box."
The box gave another violent lurch.
"The theory is that whatever item 3055 really is, it has the power to bring people together. We suspect it has something to do with a wish, but really who knows. The artifact has never so much as twitched since it's been here."
Croaker raised an eyebrow; his teeth worried his bottom lip, a frown on his face.
"Then why is it acting up now?"
Jenks laughed.
"You're guess is as good as mine, Croaker. I'd like to think it's found someone worth paying some attention to."
"Is there a way to find out?"
Wilby's little voice barely broke the racket the chest started to make all at once. Clicking and clanking and clacking about the floor.
"Well there is one," declared Jenks, with an excited smile on her face. "Open the chest."
And before Croaker or Wilby could to anything to stop her, the witch raised her wand.
Harrity spared no detail. She relayed to the Wizengamot the events that took place at Malfoy manor that past Easter holiday, about Draco's reluctance to reveal Harry's identity and how it had kept Voldemort away from the manor just that much longer. Those moments, however sparse and insignificant they may have seemed, had helped her, Ron, and Hermione survive that night. She also cited the torture the family had been put through upon Voldemort's return to the manor to find that the trio had escaped. Harry told them about what happened in the Forbidden Forest. The Killing Curse that failed once more to end her life and the protection Mrs. Malfoy had gifted her by lying to the Dark Lord, and how without her, she would surely be dead if not worse, and Lord Voldemort would still be at large today had it not been for that little white lie.
The Wizengamot took in her testimony with nothing less than the most devote of silences. The fluttering in her stomach never settled (Luna would tell her it was just a few stray wackspurts flapping about her insides), but she didn't show it, keeping her head high and her hands in her pockets despite the attention on her. When she finished, she looked appealingly to Kingsley, unsure how to proceed, the surrounding witches and wizards seemingly still digesting her words, but the scrutiny was dissipating, as they all turned to their neighbor in hushed debate.
"Miss Potter, does that conclude your testimony?"
"Yes, Minister."
"Thank you, Miss Potter, you may take your seat."
Harry did as requested, choosing a seat closer to the back of the side bar of the courtroom. Meanwhile the Wizengamot began to buzz once more until Kingsley's mallet came down once again.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, please. We've just been delivered some rather remarkable testimony. Is there anyone…"
She released an audible sigh, effectively tuning out the rest of the debate and sinking into the hard wood of her bench. It would be over soon enough. Now, all that was left was the wait. She'd done her part.
The hairs at the back of her neck prickled.
She angled herself to locate the source of her discomfort, and her tired green gaze met steel gray. Malfoy was staring directly at her from his place, chained between his parents. It wasn't right. He looked worn and pale – the dementors had had their turns with him no doubt - but not scared, or at the very least if he was afraid, she couldn't tell. She would have expected him to look away now that she'd caught him staring, but he didn't. Instead he maintains his visage, an unreadable expression on his face. It was unnerving. She wouldn't have been able to stop the tightening of her features even if she'd wanted to.
Why was he staring at her? Was he really so shocked that she'd come here today?
Her rising temper squashed down any sympathy that may have tried to bubble up. Malfoy may or may not deserve a trip to Azkaban, but he certainly did not deserve her sympathy. She had a life debt to repay, and that was all.
"Is the Wizengamot prepared to pass judgment?"
There were no oppositions.
"Then let us proceed. We will vote for each defendant individually."
There was a murmur of approval.
"In the case of Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy (nee: Black)…"
Narcissa's was a landslide vote of innocence. The chains dispersed from her person, and she rose to place herself between her son and husband. Having never been a Death Eater, herself, and for playing such a vital role to the end of the war, the Wizengamot's view on her was insured to be lenient. Only one wizard voted against her.
"In the case of Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy…" Narcissa's hands reached for her son's shoulders. "…all who find the defendant guilty, raise their hand."
There were a few: Pius Thicknesse once again, Harry noted, along with several wizards Harry recognized as Aurors, and…
"All those in favor of dismissing the charges against the defendant."
Shacklebolt himself raised his hand along with a good majority of the Wizengamot. The chains holding the blonde to his chair unraveled. His mother gave a strangled cry before drawing him into a tight embrace, one he returned without complaint.
"In the case of Mr. Lucius Malfoy, who finds the defendant guilty?"
The going was slow. Collectively, they all seemed to question themselves. First one hand rose, then another, then another, and… Harry didn't have to count to know there were far too many hands in the air.
"Innocent?"
Not enough. Shacklebolt, who had abstained in this case, did not look happy. The only noticeable acknowledgement Lucius made of his verdict is a gentle tightening of his hand over his wife's on his shoulder. She noticed the lines around Draco's mouth darken and tighten. Narcissa appeared close to tears.
"Lucius Malfoy, you have been found guilty for your criminal acts as a Death Eater on this day the 15th of August. Your sentence-"
"Umm, Minister? Pardon me."
"Yes, Mafalda?"
Harry recognized the petit woman as the witch Hermione impersonated when they'd snuck into the ministry last fall. She couldn't help but think it odd that she now appeared right at home with her surroundings when Hermione had all but shook with every glance in her direction as Mafalda.
"Minister, it is of the consensus of the Wizengamot that the defendant be given a more specific sentencing."
Kingsley looked at her curiously.
"And that specification would be what, Ms. Hopkirk?"
"We are of the notion that the defendant be given a sentence of time served, Minister."
There was a collective gasp from the onlookers. Kingsley raised a single eyebrow at her, perusing the council. None of them seemed to disapprove.
"I find that to be quite fair. What say you, Thinknesse?"
Had this not been so serious a situation, Harrity might have found the expression on Thicknesse's face comical. The former Minister of Magic merely scowled deeply at Kingsley, unwilling to voice his contradicting views.
"Very good, man." Kingsley turned back to the Malfoys. "Lucius Malfoy, you have been found guilty today, and you are free to go. This hearing is adjorned."
By the time Kingsley mallet hit the tabletop, Harry had already disappeared through the courtroom doorway to rejoin Ron and Hermione, nothing but a whisper on the wind of her departure.
Explosions were a common occurrence in the Ministry of Magic, but that was usually a result of some dastardly experiment of Committee on Experimental Charms, occasionally the Aurors would test out a new dark magic detector and things would go awry, but one thing will forever be true of the Department of Mysteries. And that was that it was solely the most organized, the most calm, and the most intellectually sound quarters in the ministry. This was the truth by which every Unspeakable carried out their daily lives as they saw to the happenings of the department. It was the same every day.
Bang!
Apparently, not today.
Within seconds, the Department of Mysteries was in complete disarray. The explosion had resounded through the entire department, breaking several security enchantments. Things looked worse than when the Order of Phoenix, some Hogwarts school children, and the Death Eaters had faced off down here three years ago. The Unspeakables were running blindly back and forth across the entrance room, tearing their way through the room of prophecy, and shooting spells this way and that trying to regain some semblance of order.
You'd have thunk the wild American West had manifested in the very bowels of the ministry.
The sand from the giant hourglass in the Time Chamber had dusted the entire level. Thought tentacles had burned holes in the floor, and for those who could hear them, the voices behind the veil in the Death Chamber were screeching their displeasure at being disturbed. And… Was that a tumbleweed that just blew by- Oh, it's just a prophecy tangled in some tentacula leaves.
"What the bloody hell is going on here?"
Head of the Department of Mysteries, Xenobia Magpie, guns blazing and spurs whirring, slammed the door to her office shut. Even the brains ceased their confounded oscilating at her appearance, such was the fury of a Magpie.
No one answered her. The wall next to her blew up, two Unspeakables trailing in the debris.
"Enough!" she cried, pulling her wand. "Immobulus!"
And everything stopped.
"Now, I'll asked again. What the bloody hell is going on here?"
"We're sorry, mistress!" one of the older department members started, still fending off a particularly nasty trio of slowly moving thought tentacles. "But there was an explosion from the Love Chamber. It's caused all this!"
Magpie stunned a brain out of her way, all but flying in the direction of the Ever Locked Room, paying no mind to the noise that resumed in her flight. The door stood, just about blown off its hinges. She flitted past it and into the chamber. The room was in complete disarray, books scattered about the floor, amortentia spitting and sputtering as though aggravated, even one of the stone replicas of Cupid had started flapping around the ceiling.
"What's happened-?"
There at the center of the chamber laid three Unspeakables she recognized as Croaker, Jenks, and a new hire Wilby. All three were unconscious but seemingly unharmed. All three appeared to have been struck by a powerful stunning charm.
She approached carefully.
"Wilby, awaken," she muttered pointing her wand at the young wizard.
The youth sputtered awake.
"Don't touch it!" he gasped.
"Wilby, Wilby, it's alright."
His eyes blinked owlishly at her.
"Mrs. Magpie!"
"Yes, Wilby, it's me. Can you tell me what happened here?"
He burst into explanation, talking so fast, Magpie had to concentrate hard to understand him.
"Yes, ma'am. It was the item. Item 3055, you know. It hasn't been looked at in years, but today. Today it was acting all funny, so I called Croaker and Jenks to come and look, and Jenks said she wanted to open it. I tried to stop her, really, I did, but she was too quick, and then- Ahh!"
Magpie flinched.
"Madam, please don't punish me please. I was only trying to help. I didn't mean for this to happen-"
"Wilby, calm down. You're in no trouble. What happened when Jenks tried to open the item?"
"It… It kaboomed, and something flew out of it! Ehhh, Mistress!"
He latched onto her shoulders shaking her dizzy.
"It's escaped! The item has escaped!"
She gripped for his arms, trying to calm the young wizard.
"Wilby. Wilby! It's okay, nothing can get out of the department of mysteries without-"
Another loud bang sounded. This time ministry alarms began to scream. Crap, she knew what that meant. There'd been a breach in security. That only meant one thing.
"Blasted!"
Something had gotten out that wasn't supposed to get out.
TBC
The Exorcism of Emily Rose is not my property either.