In Willing Sacrifice

by GeMerope

When Harry Potter has the opportunity to erase Voldemort before the Dark Lord can resurrect, he finds out that walking a fine line between his own morality and the good of this world is more complicated than Harry could have ever imagined. Slow Burn, eventual HPLV.

73. C73 - A courteous Affair

Chapter 73 - A courteous Affair

From years of experience, Harry's thoughts constantly circled around everything that could go wrong on the trip to the Ministry of Magic. While walking to Dumbledore's office in the morning, he anticipated Umbridge showing up at every corner to stop him. While waiting and watching Fawkes, he expected Snape to storm in and demand to know why Harry wasn't in Potions class (despite not even having potions in the morning, but even Harry's imaginative mind could not procure a similar image of Binns). While taking Dumbledore's hand to apparate into the Ministry, he expected some horrible accident to leave him splinched or have them end up two thousand miles away from the intended destination.

After the lurching, sickening feeling of side-apparition, he was thus amazed to land in the exact location they'd been aiming for, without any horrible interference of fate. A couple of people hurried across the Atrium with stacks of paper, followed by a swarm of enchanted memos, but there wasn't as much activity as when he'd been here to drop off Wormtail. Harry eyed the gold fountain in the middle that he had a clearer view of now. He'd been so agitated by Wormtail's presence that he'd barely taken more than a few seconds to gaze upon the splendour all around. Dumbledore didn't seem to be in any hurry – they'd left over an hour early, right after breakfast, as the Headmaster had insisted in his usual cheery voice that one could never be too early for any occasion except for a funeral. Harry thought that sound advice.

He crossed the distance to the large fountain, now knowing thanks to a very enlightening conversation with Hermione and Cedric that it was set up as a way for people to donate money to St. Mungo's. Peering into the water, Harry concluded with an empty feeling in his stomach that there weren't more than a couple of mandatory Knuts in it. Cedric's fears of the articles backfiring on the Hospital's funds had been justified. Harry promised himself that no matter the outcome of the current court procedure, he'd go to his vault as quickly as possible to throw in a good sum of money to keep St. Mungo's running a bit longer. Had the Ministry made any changes to the healthcare system ever since? Ashamed, he had to admit that he didn't know. He'd been far more invested in the rights of creatures and Muggleborns than to pay much attention to any news on the hospital situation when they'd still had access to the Prophet in Hogwarts. He sorely regretted that now .

''A sorry sight, isn't it?'' Dumbledore sighed, leaning over the edge of the basin and looking at the statues. ''The revelations last year brought out much-needed outrage, yet whether the result is preferable than the previous situation…''

''It still couldn't be kept from the public forever,'' Harry muttered. ''Nor was it fair to the people who died from preventable illnesses.''

''No, it was not fair,'' Dumbledore softly agreed, deep lines etched into his face as if burdened by some terrible secret.

''Sir?''

With a tight smile, the Headmaster rose again and gazed at the frozen faces of the statues in the fountain's centre. ''Nothing that you need to concern yourself with right now, my dear boy. I always found that the artist did everyone a disservice with this piece, don't you think?''

Unable to untangle Dumbledore's line of thought, Harry unwillingly looked up too, not feeling much like becoming an art critic all of a sudden. Though when studying the golden figures, it quickly became obvious what the man meant. A snivelling house elf, a goblin with eyes full of greed, a witch that looked in admiration at the wizard beside her…

''I disagree,'' someone spoke behind them. Harry froze up entirely in disbelief. That voice… Surely he wouldn't… ''Is it not useful to see so starkly the artist's prejudices? He likely didn't even intend for those to sneak into his sculptures. I find it to be very eye-opening.''

Harry gripped the edge of the fountain, fingers harshly scraping over rough stone. The water's reflection showed that Dumbledore turned around to face the one who had spoken. Surely, it must be someone with a similar voice if no-one was bursting out in screams right now. Also, Harry didn't feel anything so perhaps…

The Headmaster did not appear to think anything was out of place, as his voice was pleasant as he spoke up: ''Ah, I should not have been surprised to see you here. An early bird as well, are you David?''

At the name, Harry wanted to slap himself and hesitantly turned around to face David Noctua. From the man's entire demeanour – the way his lips tilted ever so slightly to the way his hands were clasped behind his back – Harry instantly knew that the real Noctua had not escaped the Dark Lord's clutches quite yet. What was Voldemort doing?

''Early?'' The man's voice had a sharp edge to it. ''As I see Mr Potter with you, I can only assume that you are here for the court procedure regarding the guardianship issue between the Tonks family and the Malfoy family. The one that started about… ten minutes ago. Were you not informed of this?''

Harry felt the blood drain from his face at that information and looked up at Dumbledore, whose eyes were gleaming with restrained fury. ''The owl must have missed me. That is not to say that I did not have my suspicions. We are in your debt, David.''

Voldemort only gave a charming smile that told Harry he'd certainly not forget Dumbledore's words. ''A good thing that the press is always taking the greatest care to be up-to-date on such important matters then. Cornelius personally told me about the sudden change in schedule right after my meeting with him this morning. I did wonder why the most important witness – in my humble opinion – did not step out of the elevator.''

''We must hurry then,'' Dumbledore decided. ''Did the room change?''

''No. I must ask though, Professor… if it would be wise for you to personally bring in Mr Potter here. Word has gotten around that you may be a tad too involved in this matter. As I'd wished to get Mr Potter's opinion on all of this before his statement was called, I was wondering if you'd allow me to escort him instead.''

The Headmaster didn't look too pleased by this turn of events. Harry was surprised when the man didn't voice any complaints though, simply taking a pocket watch from his robes and glancing at it before turning his gaze on the Gryffindor with much kinder eyes. ''Harry? Would you be alright with that?''

''I've met Mr Noctua before,'' he shrugged, hoping that the fact that Dumbledore had also gone to the press recently regarding Umbridge made him put a semblance of trust in Voldemort's chosen disguise. ''I don't mind.'' 'Not minding' was putting it mildly. His heart was beating wildly in his chest at the Dark Lord showing up in the most unexpected place. He'd tried to prepare for seeing Voldemort again at Easter and still hadn't properly decided what to do or say.

''Very well, I shall come collect Harry in an hour at this fountain. The matter should have been wrapped up by then. Harry, do remember what is at stake. Good luck,'' he spoke with utmost sincerity. The teen only nodded wordlessly. With a quiet 'plop', Dumbledore was gone.

Harry turned to face the other, only to find Voldemort quickly striding away from him in the direction of the elevator. He had to jog to reach the man. ''I wasn't lying when I said the hearing already started,'' came the curt remark as Voldemort pushed him into an empty elevator. ''Umbridge's doing, of course. Even when she isn't physically present, she's a menace. Good thing that like Dumbledore, I expected some foul play to happen and scheduled a meeting with Fudge as early as possible to address the position of the Daily Prophet so I would already be here. Although Lucius also informed me through his Mark as soon as the letter reached him, of course. So, are you prepared?''

''I… I think so.'' Harry spoke, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Voldemort was here, in the Ministry. Personally. ''You're ridiculously good at this,'' he remarked. ''Dumbledore didn't have a clue.''

''Indeed?'' that one word emitted so much pleased arrogance that Harry almost couldn't hold back from snickering. ''I personally find my greatest accomplishment today to be exchanging civil conversation with Albus Dumbledore without melting his wrinkled face off.''

''Maybe instead of going through such extremes, try to 'accidentally' singe his beard,'' Harry recommended jokingly.

Noctua's brown eyes got a suspiciously red gleam as Voldemort looked down upon Harry and smiled. ''Devious. Perhaps next time.'' The wildly moving elevator abruptly came to a shocking standstill, the iron gates opening with a creak. ''Did anyone explain the procedure to you?'' Voldemort asked, leading Harry down a dark corridor. There were large doors all around, even an ominous black one at the end of the hallway to the left that looked vaguely familiar for some reason.

He shrugged. ''Not directly, but I've seen some court cases in front of the Wizengamot through Dumbledore's memories. All criminal trials though. Additionally, Hermione was so kind as to delve into some transcripts of previous domestic court cases. As a witness, I am not actually allowed to be in the court room apart from when I get to speak, right?''

''Correct. This is so the way the court proceedings develop do not affect your previous opinion in any way, as well as to not give anyone present the opportunity to tamper with you through use of mind magic or other nefarious magic tricks. I imagine that you'd be able to ask a number of people for a detailed account of what transpired behind closed doors later instead. So, here we are,'' They'd stopped in front of a plain, oak door devoid of any plaque or number. Harry wondered how anyone would be able to find this on their own. ''I imagine there are multiple other witnesses inside as well. You are not allowed to speak to anyone else about the case and are under no obligation to answer any questions that are not asked inside the court room itself.''

''Thank you. Erhm…'' he hesitated, hand already on the doorknob as he turned back. ''As much as I appreciate your presence, it is rather surprising that the Head Editor of the Daily Prophet is personally here as acting reporter and randomly wandering around to find missing witnesses,'' he spoke with a hint of uncertainty.

''Worried about me, Mr Potter?'' the man spoke with a smirk. With a languid wave of his fingers, the Dark Lord cast a spell that Harry recognised as a silencing barrier by the shimmering in the air. ''Worry not, none in the court room would have seen me leave, nor shall they see me enter again. As for why I am here instead of delegating this report to my employees… I can hardly leave such a thrilling event to my underlings, can I?'' He glanced around the empty corridor. Despite their words being protected by the man's own spell, he leaned in, whispering in Harry's ear: ''Besides, none of them know enough nefarious tricks to influence some of the other pesky witnesses unseen even within the court room itself.''

Harry didn't know whether to be relieved or disapproving. ''Not leaving anything up to fate, are you?'' So much for 'It's in Lucius' and Narcissa's hands now.' Maybe Harry pointing out the amount of faith the both of them had in Voldemort's followers had made the Dark Lord rethink his stance on not getting involved at all if he couldn't use Lucius to order Harry around.

''Never.'' Voldemort scoffed, standing straight again. ''Nonetheless, I am curious to hear your own attempt to sway the preconceived notions of the Wizengamot members'' He gestured towards the door. ''With this turn of events, Cornelius Fudge will falsely assume that you aren't even here and thus perhaps not call upon you. I'll ensure that any attempts to 'overlook' you shall be in vain.''

''Will I still see you after?'' he fretted. ''And what about wanting to interview me or something?'' He really did not wish to enter a silent room with nothing else to do than hoping time would tick away fast. Especially not when the alternative could be an informative talk with the Dark Lord about all the news that Harry couldn't reach while under Umbridge's strict rules at Hogwarts.

Voldemort shook his head. ''That was a convenient excuse to have at least a moment alone.'' He frowned, as if reflecting on how that had sounded. Harry pretended to be very interested in the ornate door handle all of a sudden. ''As well as to get you away from the old fool's influence and ensure he didn't slip you a potion or nonsense like that,'' he ended diplomatically, a tad stiff. ''I imagine that after the trial, you shall be whisked away to Hogwarts as quickly as possible to avoid a horde of people falling over you to get your reaction about the outcome. Dumbledore did say he'd be ready in an hour, which is quite tight for such an elaborate discussion as is certain to occur. As you will likely get to speak as the last witness since they don't think you are here and first need to be made aware of that fact, I doubt you'll be able to leave so soon.''

Harry felt his shoulders slump. At the very least, he would have the man's silent support while delivering his speech. A firm hand landed on his shoulder and gave a short squeeze. ''There will soon come an opportunity for us to converse in detail, Evan. Did you like your gift?'' The question sounded rather casual and Harry couldn't say for sure with Voldemort purposefully blocking any magic or emotions from seeping out, but he could swear that there was a hint of tension.

''Ah, yes. Getting an invite to the Ostara Ball was a nice way of including me,'' he spoke. ''Although I feel like I must mention on the Malfoys' behalf that they also sent me an invitation themselves. Plus, if they get guardianship over me, I'll already be there anyways…'' he trailed off, realising that he made it sound like Voldemort's present had been useless. ''Of course, you didn't know that when getting it for me,'' he hastened to add. ''So, thank you.''

Voldemort's reaction wasn't entirely as Harry had imagined it to be. The man only cocked his head and spoke slowly, as if wanting to drive a point home: ''The gift was not the invitation itself.''

Harry felt like something flew over his head. Okay, not the person he'd wanted to ask as Harry didn't wish to seem like an uninformed fool, but with Barty not answering the mirror calls and Draco trying to wring information out of him in exchange, it felt like the only plausible option at this point. A bit unwilling, he said: ''Draco mentioned something about a difference between the invitation you gave me and the one his parents did… Not that I told him it came from you, but he saw it and implied that there was something special about it. Couldn't get another word out of him about it without trading some info I didn't want to give up so… yeah. What is so special about it?''

It was odd to see the smirk that he associated so much with Voldemort on a perfectly human face. ''Ah, Evan… You know what? Ask your new guardians.'' He stepped back, still with that slightly deranged smile. ''Yes, that will be… informative for all involved. Now go on, we cannot dawdle here forever, I have missed at least twenty minutes of the trial, which I'll now have to extract from poor Lucius' brain in order to write a complete and detailed account for my paper.''

''I'm nervous,'' Harry blurted out, wanting desperately to just reach out and find some comfort. He restrained himself. ''What if what I prepared isn't good enough?''

''Stop overthinking this.''

''That is the only type of thinking I have!'' he protested.

The hand – which Harry realised had rested on his shoulder all this time, creeped towards Harry's face instead to cup his cheek. ''Do me proud and twist them around your little finger,'' Voldemort whispered.

Harry wished to say something still – anything, but it was too late. He blinked once, and the other had dissolved into thin air without so much as a rustle.

'Do me proud…'

Harry scoffed. Wow, Voldemort sure knew how to take the pressure off.

XxX

As if never having left at all, Voldemort crept out of the shadows and replaced the illusion that had stood on his assigned spot in the far back of the courtroom. In actuality, the places the press were allowed to stand today were designed to make it harder to get a clear view and avoid sneaky photoshoots during the trial, but it suited Voldemort's purpose rather well at this moment. Considering his enhanced hearing, it was also comfortable to not stand right next to the at times heated discussions.

He assessed the current situation quickly. The Malfoys had already given their initial speech and currently Andromeda Tonks was adamantly trying to convince the Wizengamot that all arrangements had been made to give Harry a quiet retreat during the holidays, where friends could come and go at the teen's convenience. So, she was going for the emotional tour then. He wrinkled his nose in disdain. This was politics, he'd expected a Black to know better. Her husband was rather quiet, standing at her side and holding her hand in support. Perhaps Dumbledore had warned them about the words of a Mudblood not counting for much in here. All fifty-four members were at the very least Half-bloods, with a disproportionate amount of Pure-bloods compared to the rest of society.

He listened to her speech with only half an ear, far more interested in the people who would decide the outcome of today's hearing. When first delving into wizarding politics, Abraxas had explained to him that there were three groups of people in here: those who'd chosen a side and would stick to it no matter what was being said; those who had formed an opinion beforehand yet were willing to change it if good points came up; and finally those who entered entirely void of predeterminations. Over the years, Voldemort had found that while too simplified, this view was overall useful. It meant that half of the work had to be done before the actual hearing. Harry could be lucky that so much depended on this guardianship that Voldemort had been able to spend a good amount of time doing exactly that. There were only fifty-four members plus the Minister with voting rights after all. It wasn't impossible to find out who fit in which box and how some could be swayed.

Mentally, he went over the numbers. Eight members would vote for the Malfoys regardless of what happened. Thirteen would vote for Tonks. Thirty-two could be swayed, with the majority leaning towards Malfoy now due to his active meddling through subtle articles in the Prophet, carefully placed donations and arranged social meetings between the right people. Only two members were entirely neutral: Henry Hawkworth and Amelia Bones, who was the current Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Bones had surprised him when first investigating her. She was a personal friend of Albus Dumbledore yet had often opposed him in politics. Many of her votes were put to Light causes that led to fruitful results, yet she'd also spearheaded campaigns to protect dark creatures. All in all, when looking at her political history, it directly lined up with success. Voldemort would certainly keep an eye out to judge how likely it was that she would vote for or against a law he wished to push through. Finding such a reliable political indicator was highly valuable. Good that she hadn't joined the Order, although he doubted that she'd make a loyal ally to his own cause. Someone with such a neutral political compass only swore fealty to their own consciousness. It was most certainly an improvement compared to Bartemius Crouch Senior.

Shame that Marchbanks had resigned out of protest in September when Dolores Umbridge had been appointed High Inquisitor. She would have voted for the Malfoy family to get custody due to personal connections. Well, at least Dumbledore had been forced to leave, that evened the playing field again. Had the man been Chief Warlock still, the result would have been set in stone. Another boon was that Dumbledore's loyal follower Elphias Doge was no longer among the ranks of the Wizengamot either after passing away quietly in his sleep two weeks earlier. Voldemort had opted for a more violent kill to satisfy Nagini's thirst for vengeance, but it would have been far too obvious. No-one had thought twice about an ancient wizard passing at home from old age. Voldemort had even ordered his staff to dedicate a small, soulful article about Doge's life and achievements. He hadn't bothered to read it, sure he'd regret not personally gouging the man's eyes out after he'd ripped scales off Voldemort's precious companion. There was still Vance to play with, he reminded himself, turning his attention to the front of the room.

He watched Lucius' and Narcissa's expressions a bit more closely. Although the passionate speech of Tonks grated on his nerves, his followers should at least show some emotion instead of solely relying on hard facts. If the Wizengamot got the impression that they did not care at all for Harry, there were at least nine members who'd vote for Tonks out of principle, a number they could not afford to lose. Hiding his hands underneath a notebook, Voldemort gathered magic in his palm and slowly curled three fingers while keeping his eyes trained on Lucius, who shifted uncomfortably as the Mark heated up. Good, hopefully that would make the man put in a bit more effort.

Indeed, to his satisfaction, his follower stood and cleared his throat, interrupting Tonks mid-sentence. ''If I may?'' he asked, looking up at the Minister. If Voldemort was not mistaken, Fudge smiled jovially. Surely, he still had the pleasant meal of the day before yesterday in mind that he'd enjoyed in Malfoy manor. Lucius had voiced concerns that the move was too obvious, but the Dark Lord had ordered the Malfoys to invite Fudge nonetheless, painfully aware of just how much trust Fudge put in his own judgement. If anything, the lavish dinner would have served as a reminder of how much wealth the Malfoys had to offer, both to a child and to the Ministry.

While Lucius launched an attempt to chip away at Andromeda Tonks' story in order to discredit her, Voldemort thought about how disconcerting it was how much approval could be bought, something he fully intended on changing in due time. For now, it would be foolish not to take advantage of the rampant corruption, for his adversaries still would even if he did not. Even Dumbledore, as much as the man would deny it, had bribed people here. Not with money, but certainly by reminding them to return favours. It was inevitable in a system where Parliament and Court consisted of the same group of influential people. Voldemort strongly felt the urge to tear it all down.

Another fifteen minutes of arguing back and forth commenced. Tonks insisted that it would be unhealthy for Harry to not have any ties to the Muggle world anymore after growing up in it, whereas Narcissa argued that someone who had been traumatised by Muggles should be able to get away from them entirely, which was not a possibility at her sister's house as that was in the middle of a Muggle town. Lucius threw in that Harry would be able to study together with Draco, at which Tonks pulled forth old newspapers in which Draco had publicly tried to paint Harry in a bad light to the press in the boy's third year. In the end, the arguments devolved into catty remarks between the sisters about their family history, with Narcissa delivering a blow by bringing up Andromeda's disownment from the Black family.

Though low, it was not unnecessary. Glancing around, Voldemort could see that several people had not even considered this argument before. Especially Pure-bloods would doubt the capability to raise a child correctly without having family values that reached far back. Burning all bridges to defy her expected duties – whether or not anyone personally agreed with those duties – showed a certain instability. It helped the Malfoy's case that Andromeda's only child was known to be quite the rebel too. In the Auror department, Nymphadora may be highly valued, but the young woman wasn't known for political tact and had not gained any allies in high ranks. Rather the opposite, she often challenged set rules to do her work more efficiently. Few of those in command actually appreciated the improved results when it came at the cost of insubordination. It was one of the reasons why Alastor Moody had been pushed into early retirement. No, Andromeda and Edward Tonks could most certainly not hold up their daughter as a shining example of good parenting.

At long last, Fudge had heard enough of both parties and called forth the first witness: the financial advisor of the Tonks family who vouched for their creditworthiness. It was a mere formality, everyone knew the Malfoys were richer. They didn't even need a witness for that. Three more people were ushered in, family friends as character witnesses on both sides. Fudge was clearly more critical of those who spoke for the Tonks family, which was slightly worrisome. Although it was clear that the Minister did so because he wanted to back them into a corner, all it did was give them more time for their testimonies, meaning they would stay in memory longer. Voldemort weaved subtle webs across the room to dampen the effects and make the Wizengamot members a tad less attentive during those accounts. On one occasion, he managed to reach out through the room and connect his mind long enough with the speaking witness to throw them off and reduce them to nervous stutters to destroy the point they'd been trying to make.

All in all, everything appeared to go incredibly well. From surface Legilimency scans, the Dark Lord noticed that over half of the room would vote correctly.

''The last witness for today,'' Fudge's scribe, a redhead that could only be a Weasley, spoke in a monotonous voice. ''Dowager Augusta Longbottom.''

Voldemort sat up straighter as the woman entered with a stride that did not betray her years. This was the witness he was most wary of. He had a whole file on this woman, accredited due to her grandson having been the second child the prophecy could have referred to – a coincidence he found amusing now, after truly meeting Harry and seeing all that the boy was, so much overwhelming everything that no other person could ever hope to hold a candle to.

He had no doubt on whose side Longbottom was, having been a staunch supporter of Dumbledore for decades. It was relieving that she did not hold a Wizengamot seat herself anymore. She'd passed it to her son when Frank Longbottom had become an Auror, and due to the moronic system, that seat would be in disuse until the man would either pass it on, give it up for a re-vote or die. As he was in no state to actively decide anything from the closed ward of St. Mungo's, it was one of several seats that would remain empty for quite some time.

The old woman sent a pinning glare to a person out of Voldemort' line of sight and at once a large chair was carried to the middle, in which she primly sat down without a word of gratitude. Impressively, the stuffed vulture on her head did not for one moment distract from her own hawk-like expression. Without being prompted to, she spoke in a clear voice: ''Madams, Sirs. I wish to ask you why we are here.'' A few confused mutters rose from the ranks. Fudge opened his mouth to ask a question, but Longbottom already continued: ''As I understand it, all other interested parties were rejected the moment a blood relative stepped forward. I ask you to reflect on why that is, and also on why that should not have happened.'' More confusion. To be entirely honest, Voldemort had absolutely no idea where the woman was going with this. A factor he hadn't been able to plan for… both intriguing and dangerous.

''There is a third person who is of the same blood relation as Andromeda Tonks and Narcissa Malfoy. Their sister would have been legible for guardianship too, were she not in Azkaban. The same person who tortured my own son into insanity on the same night that Mr and Mrs Potter were brutally murdered and their infant placed into the custody of his Muggle family. Multiple people have tried to point out to me that the abuse he suffered there was due to them being Muggles and thus not 'real' family. Yet would he have fared better in the care of Bellatrix Lestrange?'' She let the words sink in, dead silence all around. ''There is much value in family, it is true. Blood ties, however, are not the be-all-end-all. You narrowed this boy's future down to two choices: a family he has never met and a family he's had troubles with in the past. Others should have been considered.''

Finally, Fudge found his voice again, a flush on his cheeks. ''Madam Longbottom, I wish to clarify: did you come here as a witness for one of the involved parties or is this some ludicrous protest against the choices that led to this hearing in the first place?'' His courage faltered a bit as her eyes shifted to him.

''Both. Molly and Arthur Weasley should be standing here, but as it is unlikely that the process will be reversed in which you have whittled down all other options, I am speaking on behalf of the only sensible choice: Edward and Andromeda Tonks.'' It didn't escape the Dark Lord's notice that she mentioned the Mudblood first, perhaps to drive a point home. He considered his options. From what knowledge he'd gathered, Madam Longbottom was an exceptionally capable witch with a sharp tongue and an even sharper wit. He would not be able to manipulate her so easily from such a distance without it becoming too obvious. Gritting his teeth, the Dark Lord stood down, realising that with the way her words had enraptured the audience, he could not even influence them unnoticed at the moment.

''I do not need to defend them any more than their previous friends surely have. Instead, I implore you to sharpen your criticism of the Malfoys. I have it on good authority that Lucius Malfoy tried on multiple occasions to make life rather difficult for Mr Potter at Hogwarts by abusing his power in the Board of Governors of Hogwarts. This man has resorted to threats to get the boy and friends of his expelled, has thrown wild theories around labelling Harry Potter as dangerous and unstable, even went so far as to personally go into the school in an attempt to curse him.'' Quiet, shocked gasps went around the room until Fudge took his small hammer and shouted for order.

''Madam Longbottom, do you have any proof of this nonsense? Other witnesses? If not, then I consider this-''

''You may ask the boy himself,'' she spoke haughtily. ''He was in the witness room with me, looking ever so distraught, the poor thing.''

Madam Bones frowned, her monocle digging into her skin. ''I thought Potter did not react to the summons? Weasley, would you check?'' she asked before Fudge could get a word in, who looked rather distraught himself. Voldemort's attention shifted to Lucius, who had not said a word in his own defence. Good, it would be odd to jump into an attempt at resisting the accusations without being prompted to. It displeased him that he hadn't had this knowledge before. Harry hadn't mentioned Lucius cursing him of all things in the past. This was a highly inconvenient turn of events.

Madam Longbottom excused herself, having nothing more to say, and she exited right before Harry was called in by Percy Weasley. The teen didn't nearly look as anxious as Longbottom had made him out to be. Leading a large group of people had likely made it easier to be scrutinised by so many eyes.

''Harry James Potter,'' Fudge spoke as soon as Harry sat down on the same chair that Longbottom had just vacated. The man clearly struggled to keep the disdain out of his voice. What reports had flown back and forth between the Minister and his High Inquisitor to justify such venom? ''You have been summoned as a witness in the Malfoy versus Tonks hearing regarding the guardianship claim over… well, you. Before you may give your statement, there are a few questions to be answered. It has been claimed by another witness that Mr Malfoy allegedly attempted to use violent magic on you in the past, at Hogwarts no less. Is this true?''

Even from this distance, Voldemort saw the confusion on Harry's face, but the teen composed himself quickly. ''I did indeed have a disagreement at the end of my second year with Mr Malfoy in the corridors of Hogwarts. Things got rather heated and he did draw his wand on me. In all fairness though, he didn't actually get to the point of firing any spells at me as he was interrupted and it was in retaliation to something I did, which I later found out was not permitted by law.''

Fudge almost leaned over his table now. ''Are you admitting to participating in an illegal activity, Mr Potter?'' Fudge sharply asked.

''I .. erhm.. was twelve and didn't know-''

''Omission in front of the court is not allowed, boy,'' the Minister boomed. ''And not knowing the law does not exempt you from it.'' Mutters of agreement rose throughout the ranks. It was admirable that Harry didn't flinch or cower, instead squaring his shoulders and lifting his head as he gave Fudge a frustrated look.

''Minister,'' Madam Bones interrupted in a chiding tone. ''This is a civil hearing, not a criminal one. Also, Mr Potter is here as a witness instead of a defender. He is not obligated to confess to anything in here. You may of course schedule a different hearing if Mr Malfoy deems Mr Potter's actions of three years ago worth pursuing action against.''

''I kindly decline,'' Lucius spoke up in a calm voice. ''Just like I decided against doing so back then. I realised that Mr Potter did not fully grasp what he was doing and I also did indeed cross a line by pulling my wand in the first place. Thus, I thought the matter settled. For the record, I deny hitting the boy with any kind of magic, malicious or otherwise.''

It didn't take long for Voldemort to remember what exactly the 'crime' may have been. Harry had told him before that he'd freed Lucius' house-elf by trickery. It was a bit of a grey zone, but depending on whom you asked, it could technically by considered as theft of property and punished accordingly. Well, the matter should be off the table entirely with Lucius not pressing charges. Fudge didn't seem too pleased.

Voldemort expected the other claims to be addressed still regarding Lucius' attempts at getting Harry thrown out of Hogwarts, but Fudge continued with: ''Right, this court regards the accusations made by Augusta Longbottom against Lucius Malfoy as evidence against his suitability as a guardian dismissed.'' A quick thump of the hammer followed. Although he'd spoken for the entire Wizengamot, the thoughts of the members did not reflect those of the Minister. Voldemort was dismayed to notice that suspicion against Lucius had grown, the favour tipping again towards Tonks. If Harry would not be able to convince them, they'd need to resort to Plan B, a grand-scale memory manipulation of every single person in this room. He'd rather not waste energy and time on something so precarious.

''Now, Mr Potter. Your own statement?''

Harry took a deep breath and spoke up clearly: ''When I first heard that my guardians would be either the Tonks family or the Malfoy family, I wasn't too sure what to think. I only found out about them being related to me recently and up until today, I have not exchanged a single word with either Andromeda or Edward Tonks, while having little to do with either Narcissa or Lucius Malfoy. I did befriend Draco Malfoy and his home life sounded great, but that is of course no guarantee that I would fare well under their care either. My Muggle family treated my cousin as if he was the only child on earth that mattered too. Thus, I have decided to trust in the opinions of people I care for and who know these people better than I do. I have spoken in great depth about this matter with a man who has done his best to mentor me over the past years, professor Dumbledore.''

The reaction was instantaneous. Fudge grew so red, it looked like he was choking. A wave of whispers rose up at the name. Voldemort reserved his judgement for now, surely Harry must have some sort of plan.

''Dumbledore?'' Fudge sputtered.

''Yes,'' Harry calmly replied. ''It came to my attention that he was the one who suggested that the Tonks family take me in in the first place, so I wished to know his reasoning. What he told me was quite… enlightening. They've stood by Professor Dumbledore in the past, so I know they follow the same ethical values. They would also surely allow me to keep in contact with some of my friends whom I might not see otherwise.''

A smile threatened to creep on Voldemort's face as Fudge got more and more worked up. ''Ethical... values?'' he sputtered.

''Exactly,'' Harry nodded enthusiastically. ''Besides, I'm sure that Mr and Mrs Tonks have the ability to contact the Headmaster over the holidays too in case I need to speak to him.''

''And what would you need to discuss with the headmaster of your school during holidays?'' the Minister asked, now sounding more alarmed than angry.

''O…oh. I'm not… not sure if I am supposed to say…''

''Minister Fudge was correct before that omission is not permitted if asked a direct question relevant to the case, Mr Potter,'' Madam Bones spoke up, sounding intrigued. ''I also confess to being curious myself. Professor Dumbledore should generally not contact students during their free time unless there is a reason strictly related to your education.''

Harry looked for a minute as if he was contemplating what to say. ''I suppose it is related to my education in some way. Professor Dumbledore is convinced that I will have a role to play in defeating You-Know-Who again, so he's training me and for that I also need to be able to speak to him outside of Hogwarts, obviously.''

You could have heard a pin drop.

''He's. Not. Back.'' Fudge ground out. Voldemort was quite content to hear the sheer amount of terror in the Minister's voice. What was also amusing, was that neither Andromeda nor Edward knew how to react at all. They both sat there, still as statues. Nothing Harry was saying was a lie, and he followed the rules of being a witness to the letter. Their uppity morals prevented them from playing dirty and causing a scene, so they were lost in what to do. It was Dumbledore who'd dug his own grave. This very Wizengamot had voted to remove their Chief Warlock from office exactly because of his outlandish claims and constant clashes with the Minister of Magic, who held the position himself now until successful elections had been held – a long and arduous process.

Harry doubled down: ''Oh, Professor Dumbledore didn't appear to have any doubts that he is. I can't say for sure personally, but isn't it better to be prepared? No offense to the Malfoys, but they don't have the greatest relationship with the Headmaster, so I'm pretty certain that my training would be halted completely over the holidays if they became my guardians.'' The tone was a little bit too cheery, the boy would need to work on that.

''It absolutely would!'' Narcissa spoke up, standing and crossing her arms, clearly having caught onto the game that was being played. Good. ''Honoured Minister, Mr Potter is a child, not some tool for Albus Dumbledore to manipulate! The man is showing a high amount of unprofessionalism in putting his hopes on a teenager. Not to mention that giving a single student extra lessons of any kind is favouritism on the highest level.''

''Mrs Malfoy,'' Madam Bones spoke in a tired voice. ''Again, this is a guardianship hearing, if you have grievances with Albus Dumbledore, that will need to be addressed in a separate hearing.''

''It is relevant to the case if the only reason why Mr Potter wishes to be placed with my sister is because Dumbledore told him to in order to stay in contact! Over some… some preposterous theories no less! That should not be a valid concern for this court to consider. It has nothing to do with being able to provide a nurturing home life.''

Madam Bones sat back again and hummed. ''A good point. Mr Potter, is there anything you would like to add? Do your past grievances with Mr Malfoy still hold significant weight?''

The teen quietly shook his head. ''I try not to hold grudges against anyone, that is in the past. Ever since Draco and I get along better, the Malfoys have been quite welcoming, even inviting me to the Ostara Ball last year, where I had a good time. As I said, when I considered only the same points the Ministry seems to, I wasn't able to pick myself. That's why I turned to the figures of authority in my life in order to make a more educated decision. Was I not allowed to talk about it with Professor Dumbledore?''

''I think we have heard enough,'' Fudge brusquely spoke. ''Mr Potter, the Wizengamot thanks you for your… honest statement.''

''Okay. Ehrm, can I go then or do I need to remain somewhere? Professor Dumbledore would pick me up an hour after I arrived here, but I don't know what time it is now…''

''He would pick you up, would he now?'' Voldemort leaned back in glee as he listened to the pure anger in Fudge's trembling voice. ''As I do think we shall come to a swift conclusion, please return to the witness chambers and wait there until this hearing's conclusion. Like that, you will not need to make another trip to the Ministry to fill out the necessary forms once a guardian has been selected. It shouldn't be long.''

The second the door closed behind Harry, the courtroom exploded in a cacophony of sounds, everyone trying to get a word in. The name 'Dumbledore' fell from dozens of lips in various tones. Voldemort mentally applauded Harry's performance, it had been everything he could have hoped for. Longbottom's claims were forgotten, Harry had maintained a perfect façade of being a confused child led astray by blind belief in his 'mentor' and even Fudge appeared to chalk most of the teen's reported misbehaviour up to Dumbledore's bad influence.

The judgement was swift indeed. Both parties still got a chance to speak, which basically boiled down to an interrogation on how much the Tonks family had been pressured by the old man to sign up for this as opposed to them genuinely wanting to take care of Harry. Andromeda claimed that they would have attempted to obtain guardianship regardless of whether they'd been asked to, yet that claim fell short as it could not be proven. The Dark Lord did wonder whether or not they truly would have considered it even without being pushed into it. As they'd already fully raised a child to adulthood and finally had the home to themselves again, it would have been unlikely if they thought a better option would have been available.

Owing to Harry's statement, all votes of those who could be swayed now boiled down to Dumbledore's supporters and those who thought the man more trouble than he was worth. Amelia Bones voted in favour of the Malfoys, which told Voldemort all he needed to know. His only concern now was that, due to the unofficial alliance between the old fool and the Prophet, he could not outright frame this as a victory, lest the man become suspicious. The article would have to be worded more neutral then. Not that it would concern him for much longer. The meeting with Fudge this morning had gone about as well as expected. He had four weeks left as Head Editor before being replaced.

Andromeda and Edward Tonks took their defeat well, congratulating their family with the appropriate niceties before retreating. Voldemort exited as well with the rest of the crowd, giving his follower a meaningful look in passing. Lucius, who'd still been in conversation with Fudge, excused himself for a moment and strode after him towards a quiet part of the corridor under the pretence of giving a statement to the press.

''Well done,'' he praised the other in a low voice, who gave a curt nod to be as inconspicuously respectful as possible in these surroundings. ''Do remember that if a single hair on his head is hurt while in your home, I shall personally ensure the Malfoy line dies out. I do not care how tempted you are to curse him if he manages to befriend your new House-elf or such typical nonsense.'' That boy really did have a tendency to find trouble.

''Understood, my Lord,'' Lucius muttered.

''Make sure your wife and son both understand that as well. Will he be visiting your home before the holidays?''

''I shall attempt to convince Fudge to let Potter visit this weekend to get acclimated and take care of some necessary issues. Sorting out his finances, getting his input on his future living quarters, arranging for holiday tutors etcetera.''

Voldemort frowned, not liking the idea of Harry getting a fixed routine with other people over any of the holidays. It would be highly inconvenient. ''He shall be tutored according to my schedule, Lucius, by people I appoint as long as Evan does not voice any protest against them. Which I doubt he will. Unfortunately, I am not available this weekend, so I shall make these arrangements in due time.''

''Anything else, my Lord?''

''Not for now. I'll attempt to keep my involvement to a minimum in hopes that you have enough experience raising your own son to know how to handle another teenager.''

''Yes, m'Lord,''

''Now get out of here and continue your conversation with the Minister before the limits of Fudge's attention span are strained too far.''

XxX

The rest of the week – from the announcement of the hearing's outcome to the moment Harry was allowed to take the Floo to Malfoy manor – passed in one gigantic blur. Dumbledore had been less trouble than feared, only showing a silent sadness at the news while assuring Harry that he wasn't to blame. The Gryffindor wondered if the Headmaster would still be of that same opinion when seeing Harry's statement. Surely, he'd convince some friends in the Wizengamot to pass up a memory of the trial. Harry's only hope was that Dumbledore would not see through the act, just like Umbridge hadn't. The woman had taken every opportunity to give Harry a broad grin and remind him of the 'defeat'. It irked him that she was unknowingly on his side in this case, though he tried not to take it personal as she didn't know that and might even change her opinion if she would. That rose the question of whom she hated more: Dumbledore or Harry.

The news had somehow gotten out to the rest of the student body as well, whether through a loose-lipped teacher or one of the D.A. members, he was still unsure of. In either case, the school was buzzing, and Harry hounded by questions from all sides. The only peace and quiet he got was when alone with Ron and Hermione, who sensed his unwillingness to talk about the guardianship results any further. Both of them already knew he'd preferred the Malfoys and showed a sort of hesitant happiness for him at hearing the outcome. He loved his best friends all the more for it from the bottom of his heart.

One bright spot had come from an unexpected source: despite having complained before about not wanting to get a sibling, Draco had attempted to throw a two-man party (which Harry suspected to be mainly thrown in hopes of overcoming the rift that had been created between them after the ordeal in the Forbidden Forest.) Unable to stay mad for long, especially when Draco mumbled a couple of tipsy apologies, Harry decided it was better to bury the hatchet. It would be bad form to start a sibling rivalry on the very first day.

Though they weren't actually siblings, as much as Draco's laments made it feel that way. Harry hadn't formally been adopted, being taken in as basically a foster child instead, which suited him just fine. He'd surely already get a lot of duties pushed on him because he had to represent his new guardians even without them officially becoming his parents.

He'd likely hear about those duties today. Coughing out some ash that inevitably got into his mouth, he stumbled into a chic parlour. When noticing how his sneakers stained the lush cream carpet with soot, Harry's heart lurched into his throat, a memory of Aunt Petunia's screeching on the forefront of his mind. Harry was about to pull his wand to make the evidence disappear, when remembering that it would be good form to ask permission from the Malfoys to cast magic outside of school first. Had the Trace been adapted to account for his new address now? Being on the safe side would be better, he didn't want to instantly get a lecture.

The door opened and Mr Malfoy stepped in, sizing him up. ''You're early. Good. Malfoys are always either early or fashionably late, never punctual.''

Great, the expectations were already starting. ''Okay… I'll try to keep that in mind,'' he spoke, feeling rather uncomfortable, unsure what he was doing here exactly. Upon signing the necessary paperwork right after the hearing in the Magical Minor Welfare Office, Mr Malfoy had informed him of having arranged for Harry to stay at Malfoy Manor that weekend, but hadn't revealed much about why. Harry personally didn't see why it was necessary with the Easter holidays literally being one week away. He'd planned on two other D.A. sessions this weekend, Saturday with one half of the group and Sunday with the other. It put his plans back a bit that he had had to cancel both.

Harry took a step forward, then hesitated and looked down at his dirty shoes again, feeling self-conscious. ''Mr Malfoy… erhm. Can I use magic here? Draco told me that he uses it during the holidays but I'm not sure about the wards here and all and how the Trace has been changed now that I kind of live here and-'' he broke off his anxious rant when Malfoy raised one unimpressed eyebrow. The man pulled his own wand out of the black cane and waved it in Harry's direction, who couldn't stop from flinching as a spell hit him. It was stupid, he knew that. If anyone would intentionally cast harmful magic at him, the shields that Voldemort had cast on him would make it backfire like usual. Of course, the spell had merely been a Scourgify, cleaning both the carpet and Harry's clothes at once. The teen silently berated himself, not having wanted to show any form of weakness in front of his new guardians.

Yet he couldn't help but be afraid, some part of him reduced to a scared child again. He'd learned how to deal with the Dursleys over time -stay quiet, don't ask questions, don't get dirt in the house, know what chores are yours and what punishment follows if they don't get done- but he didn't know any unspoken rules yet in this place. Last time he'd met Lucius Malfoy, Harry had had the advantage, being able to frighten a bunch of Death Eaters by flaunting how well Nagini listened to him. The roles were completely reversed now. Would the Death Eater try to take revenge for that scare?

''I take that as a no?'' he questioned as Malfoy placed the wand back in his cane.

''You may take it as a 'not yet'. My wife and I have discussed it and are still updating the wards to ensure you are properly keyed in. If the Ministry finds out that we are letting you practice underage magic, this whole hearing would have been for nothing. Come. You have not had breakfast yet, have you?''

With trepidation that was even greater than before he'd known that he couldn't use magic in this house, Harry followed his new guardian through a set of corridors. He'd already concluded last time he'd been here that the manor was excessively huge, with enough rooms to fit three families as large as the Weasleys. Seeing even more of the manor confirmed that. It was baffling that for most of the year, only two people inhabited this place.

''Impressive, is it not?'' Lucius asked with a hint of pride, misreading Harry's expression entirely. ''This house has belonged to the Malfoys for generations, having been built in the fourteenth century and adapted to the needs of each Malfoy Heir. Quite a few rooms have been left untouched to preserve the rich history.''

''You mean you have rooms that aren't in use?'' Harry questioned, trying to wrap his head around this new information.

''They are kept spotless nonetheless, of course. You may have a look at them if you wish, to see how our kind has lived throughout the ages. We open them for viewing on special occasions. Nowhere else in Britain has a family so carefully preserved the past,'' Malfoy boasted. ''Like here-'' they stopped in front of a white door painted with delicate patterns that appeared to move. ''This sitting room was last re-done in 1872 and worked on by the most well-known artists of that time. Even the door was painted using the newest technique of floating aquarelle, invented by Parisian artist Mademoiselle Solange Guillaumin. See the layers of moving paint? They hover barely over the surface to not damage the base colour.''

Harry was unable to discern one painting style from another, but was nonetheless impressed when the door with its whimsical layers of pastel paint opened and revealed a sitting room that was as magical as it could get. Spiralling shards of floating, glowing glass cast soft light on whole walls of moving paint; wooden chairs and the coffee table they surrounded appeared to have been grown rather than carved; the rug that spanned the entire room rustled without any hint of wind. What caught his attention most was the intense smell of herbs, traced back to the tresses of dried plants that hung from the ceiling in irregular patterns. ''It seems like a shame not to use such an extraordinary room,'' he commented.

''I agree, yet it is impossible. Do you know how fragile enchantments become over time? Should anything heavier than a House-elf walk across the floor once more, it might catch fire and burn up everything around with it,'' Malfoy spoke with a hint of sadness. At Harry's alarmed look, he assured: ''Each one of these rooms has strong firefighter wards around them, not a single spark would get out to the rest of the manor, naturally.''

''Sensible. So, these are open to the public sometimes?'' he asked, thinking about how Hermione had once ranted about how there were no public institutions such as libraries and museums.

''Merlin, no!'' Malfoy replied, looking horrified. ''I wouldn't let just anyone trample in here. I only show these to other established patrons of the arts and family friends.''

Harry didn't know what else he should have expected. ''Of course,'' he thus dully replied, stepping away from the door again. His stomach growled loudly. ''I'll have a look at some of the other places later, it is exciting to see how mages lived in the past. I'll make sure not to actually enter the rooms.'' Malfoy closed the ancient sitting room and led him to a -for wizarding standards- modern dining room. The furniture would have surely been considered outdated to the point of antique by any rich acquaintances the Dursleys had had. The table was already laden with inviting food and decked for two.

''Is Mrs Malfoy not here?'' he asked curiously when sitting down, staring at the various odd cutlery. Alongside a knife, fork and no less than three spoons of various sizes, was also an object that Harry could best describe as an awl, only this one was made of glass and twisted from the handle up. As someone who usually didn't use more than a single fork for most meals - a habit he'd picked up as he was always the one who needed to do the dishes – he didn't quite know what to do with so many options. Maybe copying his guardian would be the smartest way to learn.

To his relief, Mr Malfoy picked up the most familiar cutlery first, cutting a sandwich into small pieces before putting those into his mouth. ''Narcissa is working and shall be joining us in the afternoon,'' he replied after swallowing a few bites. ''That leaves us plenty of time to discuss some necessary aspects of this arrangement.''

''Working?'' he asked, surprised. For some reason, he'd always imagined Mrs Malfoy to be someone who stayed at home to host social events and enjoy the luxury of her family's riches.

The man threw him an unimpressed look. ''Of course my wife has a job. Surely you did not think she wastes her time sitting idly in the garden all day, sipping tea? Narcissa is a professional dueller,'' he spoke with no small amount of pride. ''An honourable sport to compete in on an international level.''

Now that, Harry absolutely hadn't expected. He tried to imagine Draco's mother as he'd last seen her – dressed in an expensive, impractical dress and covered in jewels – in training garb. ''That's impressive,'' he admitted. When younger, he'd been thinking of becoming a professional Quidditch player himself, so Harry understood what it was to strive for a career in sport. ''I didn't know duelling is done professionally. Like, Hogwarts had a duelling club for a couple of months, years back, but that was a disaster that no-one tried to revive.''

''Oh yes, Severus was very displeased about Lockhart's performance,'' Malfoy spoke with a wry smile. He picked up a spoon that had one flat side and Harry tried not to be too obvious when paying attention to how the man used it as a butter knife on a slice of toast. ''He told me that they didn't even get through the basics during those attempts and after the first lesson, only five people showed up for the remaining time until it disbanded. During my own time, the club was still thriving. However, Narcissa was never a member while at Hogwarts. Her sister Bellatrix had risen to the top instead. My wife got into the sport when Draco was already born.''

Harry's mouth grew dry at the mention of Bellatrix. He knew little of the woman, only that she'd tortured Neville's parents into insanity even after Barty had tried to get her to stop. Had Narcissa started duelling to continue her sister's legacy after Bellatrix went to Azkaban? The thought was frightening, so he didn't dare ask, not sure he wanted to know. ''What did you actually wish to talk about today that could not wait till next week?'' he instead asked.

Malfoy tsked. ''You are too forward. You cannot ask people direct questions like that, Harry. It is uncouth. However, that is one of the topics we will have to go over today. You haven't had a proper education at your Muggle home, which will need to be somewhat rectified if you are to represent our family at social gatherings. For the upcoming ball, I recommend that you stay close to Draco at all times and imitate him. You do not yet know whom is proper for you to speak to in which manner, so it's best to let him guide you. We do not want a disaster on our hands like your godfather caused last year,'' he spoke with a sour tone. ''There was gossip about it for months afterwards and more than a few ruffled feathers to soothe. Image is everything, remember that. You cannot waltz in somewhere with no clue about the social games that go on in the background.''

''Can you name an example of these games?'' Harry asked, puzzled. He'd always been terrible at picking up clues from people around him. When not even knowing what to look out for, he'd be doomed to fail.

The man sighed and put down his food, carefully wiping his fingers on a napkin, then dabbing his lips with a different, smaller napkin. Harry only noticed now that each person apparently had two, folded into each other. ''To take an extreme example: Lady Zabini. She recently married her seventh husband, whom also has been invited by extension and thus will most certainly be attending the ball with her. Topics of conversation to be avoided would be this husbands' wealth, any of her previous marriages or any concerns about this one ending prematurely as well. As a recently married woman still in the honeymoon phase, it would usually not be permitted for any men to hold casual conversation with her either, yet due to her age, business talk is. Which will ultimately come down to any conversation with her dancing around the business transactions that will be concluded once her latest catch mysteriously dies again and she has acquired new money.''

Horrified, Harry stared at the man, the words sinking in slowly. ''Are you saying she'll kill her husband?'' he choked out.

''See? This kind of reaction is exactly what you cannot show when talking to anyone of notice. You'll stick out like a sore thumb. Yes, she will likely murder him with no evidence pointing towards that she did it. Her husband must have known the likelihood before marrying her as the same happened to her previous six husbands, so it's really his own fault.''

''But... but what if she messed with his mind? Or gave him a love potion?'' he asked with growing concern, thinking of the memories he'd seen of Voldemort's parents. ''Is everyone just going to stand by and do nothing for the sake of keeping the peace?''

''It is their concern, not mine,'' Malfoy coldly replied. ''Lady Zabini is a contributor to many mutually beneficial businesses. Knockturn alley would have been wiped off the map years ago if not for her.''

''So you look away because she lines your pockets,'' Harry snarled, feeling ill. With a loud, scraping noise, he pushed his chair back and stood. ''I don't think I am hungry anymore, Mr Malfoy.''

''For someone so close to the Dark Lord, you have surprisingly saintly views. Sit down.''

They stared at each other, Harry refusing to obey the command. While considering those cold, steel eyes, Harry remembered exactly why he'd disliked this man so much before.

Dobby, trying to hurt himself because it had been so ingrained in the poor elf that he should. Bandaged hands held up…

Provoking words that sent Flourish and Blotts into disarray as Arthur took the bait, while Lucius used the moment to slip a deadly book into Ginny's hands. Her pale body on the floor of the Chamber…

Wounded pride. ''I would advise you, Lucius, not to go giving out any more of Lord Voldemort's old school things''. The furious expression that followed, Dobby's pained cries as the elf was used as an outlet…

Hagrid crying over the letter he received regarding Buckbeak, all because Lucius Malfoy wanted to teach the Half-Giant a lesson and didn't care if he'd have to kill a Hippogriff to achieve that.

''I imagine my views would appear saintly compared to your own morals,'' Harry spat out, narrowing his eyes. ''Do you ever think about the consequences of your own cruelty? The fear and pain you have caused so many people?''

''Did you give our Lord this same speech?'' the man asked in return, sounding unimpressed.

Harry thought about it. Had he? ''Yeah, absolutely,'' he confidently replied. ''I've told him exactly what I think of his actions on multiple occasions. Even when that was met with punishment, I found it to be much more productive than staying silent and watching preventable injustices happen all around. I firmly believe that especially someone like Voldemort has to be called out now and then when his ideas go out of hand. I've heard what that led to in the Wizarding war and I'm not about to stand idly by to let it happen again.''

Malfoy had paled considerably, staring at Harry with wide eyes. Whether it was due to his admittance to reeling Voldemort back or the fact that he'd said the Dark Lord's name was unclear. It could be that he recalled how Harry had acted at Riddle house. ''Potter… Harry,'' the man corrected himself, leaning back in his chair while warily mustering the teen. ''We do not have the best history, I realise. Yet for the sake of safety, both for you and my family's, it is imperative that we somehow get along. I… am unwilling to change who I am and how I interact with my associates based on your opinion. I presume you feel similar. My home is yours now and while I do expect a modicum of respect for myself and my wife as your guardians, I shall not attempt to impose my views on you. In return, I hope you can hold in any criticism of the society you shall be plunged into. You must keep in mind that no-one will have the same standards as you do here, so holding everyone else to them is useless. If you wish to, you may bring that up in private conversations, but for the love of Merlin, do not do so during events.'' The man sounded almost… fearful. Was status truly this fragile?

Harry took a deep breath. Not being forcibly brainwashed into Pure-Blood thinking in exchange for keeping his thoughts to himself sounded like a good deal. Malfoy was right in that they'd somehow need to get along I order for this to work. It wasn't as if he'd have to spend the majority of his time here either. ''Can you answer one question that's been on my mind?'' he asked quietly, finally taking his seat again, staring straight at his plate. ''Was the only reason why you took me in because Voldemort told you to?''

An uncomfortable silence descended until Malfoy finally answered: ''For me personally, yes. I actively tried to convince Narcissa against applying for your guardianship when the article about those Muggles passing away was released, until the Dark Lord ordered us to.''

''You had to convince…'' Harry looked up, a twinge of hope in his chest. ''She wanted to apply before?'' He didn't think he'd made a good impression on Narcissa when meeting face-to-face.

''As soon as she read the news,'' Malfoy solemnly spoke, frowning. ''Draco apparently had some good words about you in his letters to her and she has always valued family highly. She did contact Black, after all, despite him being on the wrong side. She's also tried to reach out to Andromeda multiple times yet was rejected as her sister wants nothing to do with the family that cast her out.'' He reached out and continued eating again, now taking the strange, twisted cutlery. With a flick of the man's fingers, it soared over the table and screwed itself into a few pieces of fruit before floating back with its haul into awaiting hands. Harry decided not to touch his own. He didn't want any accidents to happen with a magical skewer in case he lost control of his aim or power.

''I'll make sure to thank her then,'' he decided. Maybe Draco could help pick out a small gift for his mother. Surely, there would be another hundred rules about gift-giving. Speaking of which… ''Oh, a bit off-topic, but I wanted to ask something else. One moment.'' Harry took his school bag, which he'd placed next to the chair before and withdrew both Ostara Ball invitations, sliding them across the table to Mr Malfoy, who gazed at them in confusion.

''Since you became my guardian, I guess I don't need an invite anymore – at least that is what Draco said – but I was given two invitations and several conversations I've had suggested that there are different reasons for why I received each one.'' He watched as Mr Malfoy slowly turned over the silver card as if he couldn't believe he was holding it. ''It actually got pretty weird how unwilling anyone who could know was in giving me that information…'' Harry muttered.

''This,'' the man spoke, holding up the gold-rimmed card between two fingers, ''Is a standard invitation to all personal guests who are invited. The other… who gave you this? As far as I recall, we only gave out eight silver cards this year and none of them came back with your name on them.''

Harry blinked. ''Should I… should I have filled in my name and sent it to you?'' he asked, baffled. ''It didn't come with any instructions…''

But Malfoy waved the question off. ''Not you, the person vouching for you. Who gave this to you?'' he asked again, a highly suspicious tone in his voice.

''Voldemort,'' Harry confessed.

The man froze for a second, then his cheeks flushed in anger and he slammed a flat hand on the table, making Harry jump. ''First of all, stop saying the Dark Lord's name! Secondly, this is a serious matter, child! I will not have you lie in my face about a matter that regards the whole family.''

''I'm not lying!'' Harry yelled back indignantly, instantly back on his feet again. Unable to draw his wand, he picked the next-best thing, curling his hand around the handle of the awl to stab the other in case he'd become violent. ''Why does everyone always accuse me of lying, I'm so sick of it! For your information, I'm an absolute horrible liar so you'd know for sure if I did and right now, I'm not!''

''There is no possible way that the Dark Lord sent you a… a…''

''A what?''

''A date invitation,'' Malfoy hissed, throwing the card back on the table in Harry's direction.

Harry was instantly silent, feeling as if his head had been dunked into the freezing waters of the Black Lake. That only lasted for a moment, because as soon as the words got through to him, he felt his cheeks heating up as blood rose to his face. ''A date…? Oh. OH. Now everything makes sense…'' he mumbled, snatching the card back up. Then his head snapped up. ''Why do you make your balls possible date locations?'' he asked, incredulous.

''I don't, that is simply effectively what it becomes,'' the other replied in the same snappy tone as before. ''Most everyone who is invited either already is in a relationship or is a minor. The few adults who are single – no matter who they are – are given a plus-one invite card as a matter of fairness. They're hardly ever used, as we as the hosts will first need to approve of their invitee. Consequently, the few who do bring along another only bring someone they trust completely and always have a romantic interest in. Hence my… surprise.'' The man was silent for a while, a deep frown on his face. ''You don't look too shocked. Or concerned.''

''Should I?'' Harry asked, then wanted to hit himself. Of course anyone else would think he should. Not even Barty would approve if he'd know how close he and Voldemort had grown over the past months. ''It's complicated,'' he sighed, rubbing his wrist uncomfortably to have something to do with his hands. Confessing his romantic interest in the Dark Lord wasn't how he'd imagined this day to go. Voldemort's smug smile of earlier that week came to mind. 'Informative for all involved.' That bastard, he'd known exactly how Malfoy would react to this news!

Groaning, he put his head in his hands. ''Volde- oh alright, the Dark Lord and I are pretty… close, so to speak. I am…. interested in pursuing a relationship with him sometime in the future and he's recently made it clear that so is he,'' Harry tried to diplomatically explain, pointedly avoiding looking at his guardian. ''We've had kind of dates before, I guess? As far as you can call visiting him and having long talks dates, that is. Well, we did exchange gifts a couple of times…'' he confessed. He finally glanced at Mr Malfoy, who had schooled his features into a blank mask.

''That is… important information to have. I shall need to discuss this with my wife as well, you must understand.''

Harry frowned. ''Erhm, must you? It's already awkward that you know it now.'' Then, his gaze fell on the silver-lined card again. ''Though I suppose I wouldn't be able to hide it longer than Easter anyways,'' he sighed. ''Urgh, he could have given me a warning.'' But judging by Voldemort's words on Wednesday, it had seemed like the Dark Lord had believed Harry to be aware of the meaning, so there was that.

Now it was Malfoy who groaned quietly, looking frustrated. ''Does Draco know about this?''

Harry shrugged. ''That I got this card yes. Not from whom. Nor does he know anything about my… my interests,'' he finished with a mumble.

''You're putting me in quite the predicament.''

''Huh?''

The man, who looked wearier than before, carded long fingers absentmindedly through a lock of hair that had fallen in front of his shoulder. ''Your upbringing may have been in a different culture, but you should have some awareness of how relationships work in old families. Marriages are just as much about the family as they are about the individual. While you'd have veto rights, suitable matches would be put forward by your parents or guardians.''

Marriage? He hadn't ever dared to think that far. It made sense for Lucius to instantly jump to such a permanent union though, if all relationships were treated as a way to join families in the end. ''Not in all old families,'' he instantly protested. ''My own parents married out of love, and the Weasleys don't try to set up their kids with anyone either.''

''The Weasleys do not have the money to do so, you mean,'' Malfoy sniffed, nostrils flaring. ''Weasleys aside, those are the social rules that our family adheres to. Draco was engaged years ago to a fitting match and as you are now my responsibility, it was my intention to search a partner for you as well.''

Harry blanched at the idea. ''It's not like you adopted me though!'' he exclaimed, weirded out. ''Why does any of this apply to me? I'm not a Malfoy!''

''The only reason for that is because it would have been a waste to let a Pureblood line like the Potters die out. Which would have happened, had you been adopted by Narcissa and I,'' came the sharp answer. ''That does not mean that you aren't a Malfoy in every other sense. In the eyes of our family, our friends and even business partners, you belong to our family now. Naturally, it is my duty to ensure you find a good match. But now…'' he made a face. ''You are truly, utterly serious about this? The Dark Lord himself?'' The sheer disbelief would have been funny, had Harry not just heard that he'd narrowly avoided an arranged marriage.

Taking a very deep breath, he nodded. Even if marriage was the furthest thing from his mind right now, he did wish for a relationship that might in the far future lead to exactly that. Denying it would kill any chances of even trying to explore what could be.

''Don't get me wrong, he can often be infuriating and occasionally terrifying, but I can't imagine ever wanting someone else,'' he confessed.

''Occasionally terrifying,'' the man chuckled weakly. ''Occasionally… Only a Gryffindor would describe him like that. Circe… Narcissa isn't going to believe this. Oh no, how am I going to explain this to her?''

It took a few more tries on either side to find a less awkward conversation topic. The revelation about the reason why he hadn't been adopted led to a talk about inheritance issues, which then led to Harry's financial situation, which somehow diverted into a discussion about goblins. Somewhere along the way, Harry's new guardian insisted on being called 'Lucius' in private settings rather than 'Mr Malfoy' or 'Sir'.

''So to summarise, the goblins were helpful in that they gave you the correct documentation about your vaults, but you do not have access to the second one? The main vault?''

''I never did find out where the key has gone to,'' Harry shrugged. ''My godfather doesn't have it, and I don't think Dumbledore does either. He had the trust vault key, but as much as I dislike the man, he did return my parents' belongings that he'd safeguarded to me in my first year already. It'd be strange if he'd kept the key to the second vault unless he intended to use it, which he hasn't. The documentation showed that no transactions have been made at all since the vault was passed onto me. I didn't ask the goblins about it, they were already angry that I didn't have the key of my other vault with me. The only reason I got what I needed in the first place was ironically because I freed Dobby.''

He'd never thought to see Lucius Malfoy gobsmacked, but there was no better expression for the look he got. ''How so?''

''They like it when mages are nice to other creatures, which is fair considering their history of warring with us to gain rights, isn't it?''

''Goblins are the ones who attacked our nation and fared bloody wars!''

''Depends on whom you ask,'' he shrugged. ''Our textbooks at school say one thing, but I'm actually receiving tutoring from Voldemort and his tales of magical history paint a different picture.''

''He tutored you over the summer holidays, I imagine?''

Harry scratched the back of his neck, not sure how much he should reveal about it. Lucius was his guardian now though, and Voldemort apparently didn't have any problem with the man being aware of their… whatever it was they currently had. ''That too, but I was talking about more recently. We often dream together.''

He could practically see Lucius do a double-take. ''Pardon? You what?''

''We're connected, mentally. A side effect of accidental magic strengthened by a couple of deliberate rituals. I sometimes see in his head, and we can visit each other in dreams. Or rather, he visits me, I'm still not apt enough in mind magic to have much control other than trying to call out,'' he shrugged. ''He visits me in my sleep quite often to tutor me in theoretical magic. Transfiguration, Potion theory, Ancient Runes and History of Magic mostly, as I have most trouble with those. I think he's a bit obsessed about me getting all O's on my O.W.L.s, which is a lost cause as one of my electives is Divination where I have no other choice but to make something up.''

''Truly? Is the third eye not among your list of impossible talents?''

''If I ever had a third eye, aunt Petunia probably squashed it with a frying pan a long time ago,'' he dryly stated. His attempt at humour was met with an alarmed look. ''Forget it. No, I don't have any talent for Divination and as I heard the O.W.L. grade will be based purely on a practical exam, I can be lucky if I can come up with a story believable enough to get a Dreadful instead of a Troll. We'll see, I never had a very vivid imagination. I might have caught on earlier about being a wizard if I had.''

Lucius tried to pry for more information regarding Harry's shared dreams, but he didn't want to speak more about it, so the topic instead switched to how he was doing in school. As neither the Dursleys not Sirius had ever truly cared about his grades for different reasons, it felt incredibly weird trying to justify his current performance in various subjects. Harry thought he was doing okay, after all the extra lessons and reading he'd cranked up most of his grades from A's to E's. He even held a solid A in potions now, which was an exceptional feat with Snape judging his work. Lucius didn't appear satisfied by it, however.

''Your current grades will likely reflect in your O.W.L.s.'' he warned. ''If the Dark Lord has placed the highest expectations on you, there's much work to be done still and there isn't much time left!''

''Look, I do get that and am working on it,'' Harry defended himself. ''But I'd like to mention that not only does he want me to up all my current grades, he also wants me to learn at least two additional subjects from scratch without receiving proper lessons in it! I don't actually take Ancient Runes as an elective, never have. I'm going on notes I got from friends, old schoolbooks, and a portion of emergency tutoring in the creative aspect of it. Meanwhile, Voldemort is also insisting on me exploring my 'natural gift' or whatever for Necromancy, which consumes a large amount of time without being applicable to school at all.''

Once more, Lucius' expression turned desperate in a way that told Harry he may be giving the man too many shocks on one day. ''You are a natural Necromancer?''

Quickly, Harry shook his head. ''Not in the sense you may think. It's not like I was born being able to raise the dead, but it does come easy to me. I still don't know if there's some weird reason for that or if it's similar to, for example, Neville's affinity for Herbology. Everyone has things they're good at and what they struggle with, right? I'm trying to combine it with Healing so I can at least use it for some good, but that comes at the disadvantage of another subject I have to learn that isn't useful for my grades.'' He considered also speaking of the Occlumency lessons he was supposed to have, but decided it was not relevant as that time was now used on Potions.

Lucius seemed to contemplate his words for a while. It was surprisingly liberating to speak about all of this with his new guardian. With Voldemort, the topic of Necromancy would bring that obsessive glint and attempts to push Harry further. Barty was pretty much the same, if to a lesser degree, whereas mentioning it to Sirius would only cause his godfather worry. Lucius, on the other hand, only took in the information without appearing to judge it one way or the other. It also helped that as his new guardian, the man was supposed to know about all of this. Holding back information about his magical abilities and activities would make life more difficult for all of them and because Lucius was firmly on Voldemort's side, there were barely any secrets -at least regarding Harry himself – that he'd need to keep secret.

''Both Necromancy and Healing are useful skills to develop,'' the man spoke. ''However, in your current situation I would prefer if you'd focus on fields of magic you will be graded on. Are you planning on taking the O.W.L. for Runes?''

''Yeah. We're all supposed to have career talks with our Head of House shortly after the holidays, I plan on bringing it up then to see what paperwork I need. McGonagall does usually support initiative and learning so I'm certain that she will help me.''

''Your application will need to go through the Board of Governors as well, which I shall take care of. Hmm, I will try to acquire a few old tests for you to practise with, so you know your current level. That would be helpful in finding where your weak spots in the subject currently lie. Now, we've chatted long enough. I'd still like to show you your room and the rest of the house before Narcissa returns.''

They exited the dining room, leaving the dirty dishes and rests of food behind. Lucius strode away with an air of someone who'd never had to clean up after himself and indeed, when Harry looked over his shoulder, a House-Elf plopped in and instantly started to take care of it with crazy speed. With dismay, Harry noticed bandages on the Elf's hands. ''Will you introduce me to your new House-Elf?'' he asked, not having followed the other, still staring at the creature through the crack in the door.

The man halted, turning around. ''I think not. I will have you know that getting a new servant took over a week, during which we had to prepare our own food. Until I can say with certainty that you won't attempt to 'free' this one as well, it is not allowed to speak to you. You've lived a savage life before, surely you will be able to do without the attention of a personal servant.''

''I may be part of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare,-'' (''The WHAT?'' Lucius asked in horror) ''-but that doesn't mean I'll go giving clothes to Elves left and right. Dobby wanted desperately to be free, which I've noticed is quite the exception among their kind. What I strive for are more humane living conditions. My godfather also has an Elf, you know. You'd like him, is all for Muggleborns being wiped out and all that crap cause Sirius' crazy mum believed in that and he adored her.''

''From what I heard, it is questionable whether its living conditions are better than those of my own Elf. Lost all interest in serving a master who keeps it isolated and upturns its nest regularly.'' Lucius mentioned casually as they ascended the stairs.

Harry threw the man a suspicious glance. ''You know about Sirius' House-Elf?'' he asked in confusion.

''As you have revealed so much about yourself I think it would only be fair… yes. KREACHER!''

Under the Gryffindor's disbelieving eyes, the grumpy House-Elf appeared with a crack that echoed off the marble walls. Upon seeing Lucius, Kreacher transformed from his usual crabby self to the epitome of grace, doing a low bow with one arm outstretched to the side. ''Honourable Master Malfoy has called upon poor Kreacher? Does Master Malfoy wish to hear more about the Mudbloods and blood traitors that have contaminated the ancient house of Black? Kreacher will say anything, oh yes.''

''See Harry?'' Lucius commented smugly, leaning on his cane while gazing down at the bald spot on the back of the Elf's head. ''This one finds its current life so miserable that it even listens to a different master, all without feeling the slightest urge to punish itself.''

Kreacher looked up in confusion, then jumped back with a loud cry, wrinkled face twisting into a snarl as he pointed a dirty finger. ''YOU! Master Malfoy, there is one of the blood traitors! Prances around the house, that one does! Touches things he shouldn't, that one does! Master Regulus's books, master Regulus' Locket! And the abandoned son does nothing, nothing! THIEF!'' It was only due to Harry's quick reflexes that he could avoid the Elf, who suddenly charged for him, fists pummelling the air.

''Kreacher, enough.'' Lucius softly said. The Elf instantly turned tame again, withdrawing, only muttering under his breath a little loudly. ''Harry is part of the Malfoy family now. He was acting before to not arouse suspicion. He believes in the old values just like you do. If he removed anything from that house, surely it was for safekeeping. Isn't that so?''

''Errr….'' Harry said, not wanting Kreacher to attack him again but also not feeling up for lying to the old Elf. ''I returned most of the books over the Christmas holidays,'' he instead spoke in hopes of appeasing Kreacher instead. ''And I'll return the others too.''

It did appear to work, Kreacher calmed down further. ''And master Regulus' locket?'' he asked warily.

Harry gulped, knowing very well that he could never return that. Mentioning that Voldemort had it again would likely also not go over well as Kreacher damn well knew that Regulus had tried to steal and destroy it. So much for this resolution not to lie to Kreacher. ''I… don't know where it is?'' he said, grimacing.

Lucius's eyebrows raised to his hairlines, but it appeared enough for Kreacher, who was thankfully quickly dismissed after.

''You were correct, you're an atrocious liar. What's this about a locket?''

''An artifact important to the Dark Lord,'' Harry admitted. ''Which I returned to him. Pretty certain that Kreacher was supposed to destroy it but couldn't find a way how to. It was in Regulus' bedroom still when I explored my godfather's house. Never mind that, you made your point about Elves. Are you somehow his master now then?''

''Not me, technically'' Lucius said. ''If I understood correctly, your godfather was idiotic enough to command Kreacher to 'get out', which the elf all too happily took literally as an order of dismissal. It went to the only other Black it knew, my wife. Technically, it serves the entire Black family, but could not leave the house before to do so. Now, it can. Come, we've wasted enough time.''

Still trying to wrap his head around just how much Sirius had messed up, Harry followed his guardian. He'd thought Kreacher to act suspicious all this time, but his godfather had ignored all the warnings, caught up in the typical arrogance mages had over their House-Elves that Harry honestly hadn't considered Sirius to be capable of holding. It added an ill-fitting puzzle piece to the man's personality, which he was uncomfortable about and would rather ignore. Harry thus turned his attention to the house tour, which started with his new bedroom. Harry had expected a look-a-like of the Slytherin common room with its stereotypical green glow, black leather and skull decorations, and was mostly pleasantly surprised when finding not a single skull or snake. There was still a lot of black and green though, even in the on-suite bathroom. Harry didn't think he'd ever be a person to possess such a bathroom, even Voldemort himself didn't have such a luxury at home. Did one House-Elf really need to do all the housework here? Maybe he should help it a bit by cleaning up his own messes at the very least.

The entire walk through the house felt so surreal, like the first time he'd seen Hogwarts, the feeling not quite sinking in yet that this was supposedly his home now too instead of someplace he was merely visiting. They passed studies, guest rooms, a library and an indoor garden and that was only on the second floor of the left wing of the manor. Baffling. It took much longer than he'd imagined, naturally, especially with Lucius stopping everywhere to talk about the Rich History and Famous Ancestors. Harry practically had to beg the man to continue when he wouldn't stop talking about the colour code system of the library. Maybe once they'd gotten closer, Harry would ask Lucius for permission to let Hermione in so she could do the exact same house tour as a birthday present. She'd love it. He then remembered that Hermione was one of the last people the Malfoys would allow to cross their threshold. He'd seriously need to speak to them about how visits to and from friends would be handled, maybe when Narcissa was present.

Hours later, Harry dragged his aching feet to the dining room they'd started in, the table now squeaky clean, where said woman was waiting for them. It did indeed look like she'd had a rough training, hair spilled loose and tangled, a few rips in her robes - a black uniform that looked like it was made of dragon hide – and even a smear of blood on her face.

''Ah, I apologise for not looking my part,'' she spoke with a half-hearted smile.'' She rose with difficulty and approached them, giving her husband a peck on the lips and then smiling down at Harry.

''You could have gone upstairs to refresh yourself first, dear,'' Lucius spoke in concern, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe the blood away.

''Not quite as possible as you think, love. Harry, I'm glad you are here. Did my husband show you your quarters?''

''Yes Mrs Malfoy, they're lovely,'' he replied, taken aback by the kindness she showed. Was this the same person who sneered down on others in Diagon Alley during shopping? The same woman who always had her head tilted upwards as if sniffing something foul when surrounded by other parents at King's cross?

''Good, good. Something came up, follow me. I brought a guest along. I do hope that you know how to behave in important company?'' she asked with a tinge of worry. ''This man is of high rank and standing, you must take care to present yourself well. Lucius, could you really do nothing about his clothes?'' she fussed when spotting Harry's old and dirty sneakers.

''Sorry dear, I didn't want to pressure him by a wardrobe change, I had no idea that we'd have a visitor today,'' the other apologised, also looking nervous now.

''I'll behave,'' Harry sighed, steeling himself. It couldn't be worse than pretending not to be all there with an empty smile like he'd had to do with some of the Dursley's friends when he'd been younger and hadn't had his own room to hide in yet. They couldn't have odd sounds coming out of the cupboard their guests needed to pass by after all.

Relieved by his answer, Narcissa put a hand on his back and guided Harry out of the door and towards what turned out to be another sitting room, filled with fine China and elegant glassware. But Harry couldn't care less about the décor and also completely forgot any manners he'd just vowed to portray when seeing who it was.

''BARTY!'' he cried out in excitement, launching himself across the room, being caught by a pair of strong arms. The Death Eater's raspy laugh and even raspier stubble tickled Harry's ear.

''Wow kid, did you grow again? And finally picking up some food eh? Oh, it's so good to see you! I'm going to hex your bollocks off for never answering my calls though, prepare yourself!''

---

AN: I wonder how many of you were expecting Voldemort to show up ;) I figured it made more sense to write the court scene from his POV than from Harry's, as witnesses typically aren't allowed in the courtroom for the entire duration of the trial apart from when they get to say their part.
In case you were wondering: the hearing was not held in Courtroom Ten like the canon disciplinary hearing or the criminal trials. Thus, it's on level 9 instead of level 10, where the elevator still reaches.
The outcome of the hearing was probably not a surprise to anyone, but I once read a tumblr post that I took to heart: it's better to write something expected well than to change the flow of a story suddenly for Dramatic Effect.

Please read and review!
xx GeMerope