Beauty and the beast, a story by Mrs Skinner
Translation by SnapeSeraphin
Chapter 1: The Verdict
Life in the wizarding world moved on, even without Hermione's presence. The final battle had been won, the war was finally over and the Dark Lord was dead.
After taking care of the numerous casualties, burying them during a large and meaningful ceremony, after looking after an ocean of wounded, there was nothing left to do but to try and sentence the last remaining, surviving Death Eaters.
Albus Dumbledore, once again the most powerful wizard in the world, held a trial, which would go down in the annals of wizarding history because of the unusual and rarely imposed verdict he would pass on one of the defendants.
During this trial, Dumbledore sentenced the captured Death Eaters, little though there were. Some of them were repentant as they stood before their judge and begged for mercy. A few others had the audacity to boast about the atrocities they committed. Others insisted their participation during torture and interrogation sessions had been minimal, that they had been relatively harmless tag-alongs. But Dumbledore wasn't easily fooled. The evidence against every single one of the Death Eaters on trial was impressive and Dumbledore's sentencing was stern, but fair. Azkaban was going to get rather a lot of new inmates in the immediate future; with few exceptions, the verdict was life, with no chance of parole.
Last to stand trial was a tall, finely-dressed man. Standing tall, jaw arrogantly set, long blond hair carefully brushed back over his broad shoulders, he looked his judge in the face emotionlessly. Lucius Malfoy was proudly showing himself as the right-hand man of the evil wizard Voldemort.
A chorus of whispers went through the chamber, a lot of those present shaking their heads disbelievingly in the face of such arrogance. This man had, despite all the terrible deeds he committed and needed to defend himself on, an incredible amount of inappropriate pride in him. The only question was, what exactly he was so proud of.
Insolent as he had ever been, he looked at the face of his former Professor. He would never whimper for mercy as his former associates had done. A Malfoy faced the consequences of his actions, whether they'd been right or wrong.
"Lucius Malfoy, do you confess you have murdered, tortured, lied and swindled in the name of Voldemort?" asked Dumbledore.
Clearly, Malfoy responded: "Yes, I confess that I have been a loyal follower of the Dark Lord and on his orders I have done all of which I stand accused."
"Do you regret your heinous deeds?"
"No. The Dark Lord promised me money, power and better standing. I wanted all of this."
This unabashed statement caused a wave of murmurs among the witches and wizards present at the trial. Malfoy didn't appear the least bit sorry, disquieting the audience.
Harry Potter, the hero who had vanquished the Dark Lord frowned and whispered to his neighbour: "At least he's being honest about it, the bastard." Neville nodded and stretched his neck a little more so that he wouldn't miss anything.
Dumbledore read a stunning lack of sensitivity in the silver eyes of his onetime student and decided after some deliberation to pass a very unusual verdict.
There had been only one other case, in which a witch had been forced to utter this particular curse and that had been more than two-hundred-and-fifty years ago. The wizened wizard, however, realised that it was the only possible recourse he had to really punish the vain, arrogant, cruel, egotistical Lucius Malfoy; Azkaban was not an option for Voldemort's most loyal follower.
"Lucius Malfoy, I curse you. I condemn you to live your life in a truly horrible form and I'll strip you of all your magic powers. In future, you will be nothing more, than that which you have hated and fought against for so long: a Muggle. You are banned from the magical world and you will never be allowed to return to it."
A horribly loud rushing sound shattered the silence that had descended when the verdict was pronounced: Lucius Malfoy's wand, which a bailiff had handed to Dumbledore, was dramatically broken in two.
A loud and desperate 'No!' accompanied the unknown sound.
Malfoy's tall and proud body appeared to be swaying and he looked at the white-haired wizard with trepidation. He had anticipated everything but this particular curse, which was so different from the sentence of his cohorts. He felt as if he had lost his footing; the terrible realisation of what was about to happen to him seeping into his brain. His hands were heedlessly reaching for something to hold onto and, not finding anything, he sank down to his knees.
"Dumbledore, you can't do this. Send me to Azkaban, like the others. Not this!" he moaned discomposedly. There was nothing left of his arrogant, cold voice. So he was begging for mercy after all.
But it was too late.
Dumbledore looked down at the blond wizard without compassion and raised his wand. A yellow-green flare left his wand and flew at Malfoy with a hissing sound. For a moment, the kneeling man was surrounded by a wavering, poisonous green aura, Malfoy crying out in torment and pain. He crumbled into a ball and all his limbs started to jerk. Then he began to change in an eerie and painful way. Malfoy's beautiful long blond hair changed first; it turned grey from one moment to the next and its silky softness changed into a greasy look. The cursed wizard was by now rolling around in the dust on the floor, crying out horribly. Underneath his fine, expensive clothing, numerous bones appeared to be shifting to different positions. Malfoy's right shoulder blade was curving outwards.
Entranced, in spite of being horrified, the spectators watched these horrific changes. Some had raised themselves from their seats; nobody wanted to miss a thing of Malfoy's alarmingly terrifying transformation.
The rearrangement of the back appeared to be complete: underneath Malfoy's expensive robe there was now a horrendous hump. Suffering from terrible pains, he tried to claw his hands into the stone flooring. With harsh, ugly rasps his nails scratched the stone in vain as his fingers lengthened and became spidery. They looked pale where they emerged from his black cloak. His fingernails also grew with incredible speed and it took no time at all for Malfoy to develop long, torn and horribly un-groomed nails.
The worst change, however, took place in his face. The masses moaned in fear and the first row actually moved back a little as Malfoy raised his head and awkwardly brushed some strands of greasy grey hair away from his face with his claw-like hands. There was nothing left from the once attractive, downright handsome man.
A long, hooked nose decorated the middle of a face that was curiously elongated. A high, now sweaty brow limited his face on the upper side, while on the underside was a chin that seemed inclined to reach forward. His cheeks were pale and slack. His lips had all but disappeared; the previously so well-formed mouth, that had captivated every female, could only be imagined now. Deep wrinkles had appeared in his facial skin, giving him an old look; his face was as furrowed as a mountain landscape where water from glaciers had forced its way. It was a terrible sight and nobody of those present was capable of looking him in the face for an extended period of time.
Shocked and nauseated in the face of this ghastly change, they all stared at the floor. This reaction didn't escape Lucius Malfoy. "A mirror, Dumbledore, I want a mirror, immediately," he cried at his judge, all but panicking.
From thin air, a large mirror appeared in front of Malfoy. One look and he shrieked with terror, holding his misshapen hands in front of his terrible face in a futile attempt to hide his hideousness. "Undo this. That's not me; I can't live like this," it sounded muffled from behind his hands.
"Otherwise kill me this instant," he beseeched Dumbledore.
But Dumbledore said unmoved: "Your appearance is now the mirror of your soul. You have earned it for yourself with your terrible crimes. However, I will give you a chance to regain your former looks."
With a swish of his wand, he conjured a beautiful, long-stemmed, red rose, which he lowered to the floor next to Malfoy. "To reverse this curse, Lucius Malfoy, you get a period of exactly five years; as long as this rose blooms, there is still time left. Find someone who is capable of sincerely loving you in your current form; after five years, the rose will have lost all its petals and if you haven't found anyone who is willing to give you their unconditional, true and pure love by then, you will be forced to live the rest of your life as you are now."
At that, Dumbledore raised his hand and beckoned a bailiff. Said bailiff took a rigid Malfoy by the arm and led the suddenly frail-looking man from the courtroom.
On his way out, the once so proud and arrogant man pulled his robe around his unattractive, bony body and ducked his head. Every contemptuous look that was thrown at him by the people looking after him, wounded him deeply. Convulsively clutching the rose in his hand, he didn't care that the thorns were piercing his flesh. The pain that was raging inside of him on account of his hideous appearance was far superior to any pain that the thorns could ever evoke.
AN: Don't be shy; let us know what you think of Dumbledore's ruling! Personally I think it is a sin to spoil something as beautiful as Lucius Malfoy, but then, I am shamelessly in love with the character ;-)