It was not the first time that Hermione praised Pansy silently in her thoughts after a long day. The slippers she wore looked nice, and Pansy's 'feels like barefoot' charm in combination with a 'stick to feet' charm meant that her feet did not ache after a long day and there was no chance of her losing her shoes.
She was knackered, however, after a long day searching around London with Luna for possible hiding places for occamies. The querio charm was exhausting, and she had the feeling that Luna was even more unfocused than usual. She had a nervous look about her and Hermione just knew that it was not just her usual lack of focus. She wondered if that was the reason why casting the querio spell together had been so difficult and tiring all afternoon.
She still did not know exactly how Luna had persuaded her to join her on this chase after her working hours. Luna had told her that Harry was busy with a murder case. Hermione suspected that Harry had not put that much effort into the occamy smuggling even before the new case came up. She did not voice that thought aloud, though. She was forty after all, not sixteen, and she had learned by now, that it was not always socially acceptable to voice inconvenient truths. Unless you were Luna Zabini and managed to clad your criticism into pointing out the existence of wrackspurts.
After having cast what felt like the hundredth detecting spell, she told Luna that she had enough.
"I want to read to Robert. If I continue to not come home in time, he won't even recognize my voice. And I am tired, and my mind is numb. I think we need a different approach."
Luna tapped her lip with her wand. "I guess you're right. We should have found something by now…. It is just, that the lack of evidence suggests that they placed the occamies under wards and that worries me so much. It should not be possible. Occamies just don't react well to wards that make an area untraceable. They must have found a way to trick the occamies into feeling at home."
Her forehead showed a deep frown. "We should probably look for places where the habitat of the occamies can be imitated."
Hermione hugged her friend. "We both ponder this problem and talk again. I know, you want to get behind that, but we are too tired by now."
"I really wish, more people would see that this is a problem. Occamies are substantial for the magical balance in India, and this … ", she stopped herself.
"I know, I don't need to tell you that." She looked uncharacteristically contrite.
Luna chewed her lips in thought and opened her mouth several times, before she finally admitted: "There is something, I have to tell you, Hermione."
Now she would learn what had occupied Luna's thoughts. "What is it?", she asked.
Luna's big blue eyes focussed on her. "I don't even know how to tell you without attracting wrackspurts."
"I'll handle some wrackspurts, Luna. I am not going to go off on you."
She had long given up insisting that wrackspurts did not exist. Somehow, they had become a natural part of conversations with Luna. Blaming them was admittedly even convenient once and again. Occasionally she even caught herself at naming wrackspurts as the culprits when Luna was not there.
"You know, how I wanted to do a little party for Penny's birthday? Invite Lizzie and Meg, just at the start of the Easter break? So that Rachel is there as well? And that Colin can come?"
"We've already saved the date. And I have a splendid idea for my goddaughter. If you want to do your usual 'parents can tag along' I must disappoint you though. I am invited to an international conference on Goblins and their rights to wands in Geneva. Draco could come, but he would have to bring Robert."
Luna looked positively unhappy.
Hermione touched Luna's shoulder. "The only wrackspurts I see are around you. What is it Luna?"
Luna shook her hands, stretching her fingers as if she wanted to make her imaginary wrackspurts jump away from her.
"It's Ron. You know, he stays with Harry at Grimmauld, and I was over there for tea, the day before yesterday, and we talked about the party, and how Penny wants Lily to come, and he…." She chewed her lips again.
"He sort of invited himself?", Hermione guessed.
"I wish that I had focussed for once…. I should have just talked it over with Ginny alone." Luna closed her eyes a fraction longer than her usual slow blink.
"Since Ron is back from the states, it has been such a nuisance. It has warped all our routines of how to…" She let her words trail off.
"… navigate the waters between your different set of friends." Hermione finished the sentence for her.
"What you mean is that Richard and James will come with Lily and that Harry, Ginny and Ron will probably tag along to play a little Quidditch in your wonderful garden." Hermione tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
Luna nodded, looking downcast.
Hermione pursed her lips. "I'll just ask Rina to drop Meg and Lizzie with you then. That should work."
She kicked at a small pebble and observed it bouncing along the street. She wondered not for the first time, how Draco's trial still had an impact on their lives. If there had been a way for her to at least salvage her friendship with Harry. There had been no chance to save her friendship to Ron, not when she had practically dumped him at the proverbial altar.
With Harry it might have been different. She had told herself several times that it had been Harry's fault, but after twenty years of sitting in trials, defending and working on new laws for the wizengamot, she knew that placing blame was often not that easy and that she should probably admit, even if only to herself, that she had played a part. She still would have decided to act the same, though. She could not regret keeping Draco out of Azkaban, especially not at a time they still had dementors there.
Luna took her hand. "Rachel would love for Colin to come. Me as well. You know we love him."
"Luna, your house is usually a safe place for Colin. It's his decision." She pressed her friend's hand in return. It was not Luna's fault. Dear Luna. Hermione would never forget that Luna and Blaise had been there for her, when she and Rina had come down with Dragon Pox, when it had really counted.
In a day or two she probably could picture Luna's surprised look at being cornered into an invitation and laugh about it.
"We'll just do our usual routine of 'avoiding the Weasleys and Potters' and you and Blaise and the children can all come over for luncheon the day after." She smiled and hoped that Luna would not remark on the brittleness of her smile.
Luna bit her lips. She probably tried to refrain from remarking that Hermione was struggling with the wrackspurts after all.
"Don't make such a face, Luna. This is not the first time, we did this. Since Ron comes anyway you can invite some more Weasleys, get them all over to your place in one go." There, that had sounded almost as if she meant it. As if she did not wish that Ron would have just stayed in the states, safely far away, where she could benevolently wish him to be happy without having to deal with him and his presence.
"Blaise won't be too happy about an all Gryffindor event." Luna chipped in.
"Ha," Hermione contradicted. "He'll tease them relentlessly, will get a rile out of them and will be thoroughly amused."
"Hmm." Luna answered, as if she seriously doubted this.
"You can invite Pansy to get some Slytherin backup for Blaise, just in case." Not that Blaise needed it. And Neville would probably count as a Gryffindor.
"I am so sorry, Hermione, the last weeks really felt like a regress." Luna sighed. "We had it sorted out so well. We never had to be careful like that with just Harry."
"That's because Harry doesn't throw his fist into Draco's face, the moment he sees him," Hermione sulked.
"Ginny, you and I will manage to adapt our routines and we'll beat the wrackspurts. They never shall conquer us."
"That's the spirit," Hermione had to smile despite her sour mood.
Notes:
This chapter got a little out of hand, simply because I wanted to include at least some headcanons about Luna and Blaise... and Luna is always a delight to write.
Chapter 41: The Battle of Hogwarts (May 2,1998)
Summary:
Draco tries to survive the battle...
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Draco broke one of the vials over Gregory and then he took Gregory's wand. He carried the bulky form of his classmate to the side of the corridor. If Gregory were lucky, he would only wake up when this was all over, or at least the battle that raged in Hogwarts.
He felt dazed. Potter again. Almost getting himself killed, and by Crabbe of all people. Draco shuddered. Horcruxes. Even the word sounded evil. He wondered what it was. Something that prevented the death of the Dark Lord if he had understood correctly. 'Just the snake'. Draco certainly would not grieve, if that ghastly snake got killed.
Fiendfyre. He looked at his left badly burnt arm. The pain was almost enough to mask the pain of the Dark Lord's call. Draco waved the borrowed wand over his arm to do a healing spell. It cooled the burned places, but the burned skin still stood out in an irritated red.
He wondered if it would be enough of an excuse to ignore the Dark Lord's calling. Maybe it was for the best, that he could not heal his arm completely. Gregory's wand did not respond well. His mother's wand, given willingly, had been much better.
Such a shame that Potter had his wand. Severus had told him he should try to get his wand back, or was it the other way round? Draco did not remember, either because he had been feverish or because he had stored that away. To demand his wand back might not have been the best of approaches to Potter, but it had been the first thing to come to his mind that would not make Crabbe suspicious. Crabbe. Dead. He shuddered.
With a wand that barely worked, he would have to lie low, just as Hermione had suggested. He would try a disillusionment charm and maybe he could indeed save some lives from the side lines. He was pondering possible actions, when he almost ran into a death eater who was alone on the corridor.
At first, he froze in place, but then he remembered that he was supposedly on their side. He grovelled and showed his mark, hoping that would be enough. The death eater snarled and seemed not convinced. Draco never learned what his intent was. His opponent was hit by a stunning spell, that came out of nowhere and then he himself got punched out of thin air.
His mind reeled, but he managed to stay conscious. He looked around but saw nobody. He quickly cast a disillusionment charm. It was far from perfect, but he might be able to escape notice.
He made his way to the classroom, where he had begun to brew the next batch of Phoenix Potion. He barely managed to enter with Gregory's wand. He concentrated so hard on getting through the wards, that he was completely taken aback, when he heard the Dark Lord's voice announcing a truce of two hours, challenging Potter to turn himself in. Draco shook his head. Even Potter would not be that stupid.
Briefly he wondered if he should have had doused Potter with the potion. He doubted Potter would have accepted it with the same trust as Hermione. Draco chuckled briefly when he tried to picture Potter's indignant face. He probably would have thought that Draco had attacked him.
Draco looked with a skeptical eye at the new batch of the potion. He would have to try. He called Prudy with his ring.
It turned out to be of no use. The new batch of potion was not ready, and Prudy reacted to the tickling spell. He had told Severus, that he would need a fortnight, and his estimation had been right.
"What shall I do now," he asked Prudy. "In two hours, the battle will start again…. At least I managed to get the vials from the Room of Hidden Things."
When he had planned with Severus, he had not thought that Potter would render all his plans useless. Severus had been driven out and because Potter was here, Voldemort was bent on battle. And if he won, he probably would not want to drink Draco's potion.
Draco wrote down the last two steps that were left to finish the potion. Then he grabbed the book with his notes. It would be best to hide it. He told Prudy to stay and hurried to the library which was empty. A book was best hidden among other books. He took a cover from a book on house elves, duplicated it, changed its colour and applied it to his notes. Nobody would ever read this. And he had written code as well. He had to do the spells three times in a row to have any effect and groaned in frustration. He waved Gregory's wand to distribute the dust. It would not do, if someone would notice that the books had been disturbed.
He went to the classroom again and took out the memory of where he had put the book. It was a strain. He did not dare reopen the vial that held his other memories, because he was not sure, if he could even cast a proper scutum with Gregory's wand. Therefore, he took a glass of his makeshift potions lab and put the memory there. The memory looked greyish and not silver and Draco wondered if he had done something wrong. Was it the wand that did not obey him? Or maybe he had stored away memories too often? All his choices seemed bad in a way. He was between a rock and a hard place, had been for more than a year.
Now, that he had hidden everything it was time to prepare. He doused himself with a vial of Phoenix Potion.
His gaze fell on his family ring and his breath was knocked right out of his lungs. The ring had turned pitch black. Severus Snape, his only ally was dead.
Draco had sat on the floor for what felt like hours, his head on his knees, Prudy his only companion. The little elf had laid her hand on Draco's shoulder, but there was little comfort. Draco's thoughts were whirling, he was looking for a solution. Could he persuade the Dark Lord to try the potion? If he came to Hogwarts as a victor as would certainly be the case?
When he finally stood up, he looked out of the window. His heart dropped in anguish, when he saw a group of black clad people who could only be death eaters advance to the castle. Draco thought he recognised the Dark Lord, the snake by his side. Somehow that big oaf, Hagrid slowly made his way towards the castle. On his arms was a bundle that looked like a child in his arms. But the enormous height of the half-giant probably meant that it was not a child, but a man. Draco felt the last and tiny shred of hope leaving his body.
"All is lost," he whispered to Prudy. He tore at his hair, desperation took hold of him. The Dark Lord's new world was about to rise, and it was a world that was not worth living in, not for muggleborns, not for purebloods, not for any decent human being. He might as well go out and die now. If he died, there was a slim chance that the Dark Lord would not suspect his treason, that his mother might be spared. All the Phoenix Potion in the world would not save Hermione though. It was only a matter of time until she was as dead as Potter.
Draco saw splashes on the floor and touched his cheeks in wonder. He had not realised that he cried.
"Prudy," he called out. She was his only friend now, if a servant even could be a friend. He took one of the Phoenix Potion vials.
"Here, Prudy," he shoved the vial into her hands. "Protect yourself."
He took of the green and silver tie that was part of his school uniform. The elf stared at him with wide eyes, that reminded Draco of deep wood ponds filled with clear water.
"Stay low, Prudy, I have one last order for you. Survive, just survive." He put the tie around Prudy's neck.
He went out of the classroom then, not caring about renewing the wards. He felt like he was on his way to his death. It felt like the day when he had made his walk to the Astronomy tower, only this time, he was even more certain that he would die. There was no point in living in a world, where Voldemort had won.
He did not dawdle. He knew what awaited him and just wanted it to be over. He had been living on borrowed time anyway. He wondered if a twist of fate would allow him so see Hermione one more time. Better if she was already dead, a quick death, hopefully a clean death. He regretted now that he had used the potion on her. It would only prolong the inevitable.
When he reached the Great Hall, people were still fighting. Why did they take the trouble? Didn't they know it was all over?
It took him a few moments to register that Potter was alive. When the realisation hit him, his pace quickened. He took the bag he had still slung around his back and began throwing the potion around. He might save some lives. The vials shattered easily, and the tell-tale mist rose when they hit persons. Draco did not take the time to distinguish between friend and foe. He tried to find Hermione and at one point he thought he saw her bushy hair, but the battle roared around him and when he looked again, she was gone.
Longbottom of all people was wielding the sword of Gryffindor and looked like a fucking hero, rallying fighters behind him. The sword glittered in his hands and when he came to face the snake, he roared and cut her head off as if he were slicing through butter.
At one point he thought he saw his mother. She did not even pretend that she fought. Draco was sure she looked for him. He thought she looked up, when he called for her, but the tide of the battle swept them apart.
Draco narrowly avoided a deadly spell, that grazed him at his leg. He came face to face with his aunt whose eyes were opened wide. She looked crazier than ever and Draco ducked away, hoping his disillusion somehow held. His leg felt momentarily numb. The constant exposure to spells must have worn down the effect of the Phoenix Potion.
Potter and Voldemort duelled, and Potter taunted the Dark Lord. Potter had found out that Severus had been a double agent. So, at least his death had not been in vain.
And then Potter told Voldemort that his wand was better than the Elderwand the Dark Lord held.
Draco stood dumbfounded, when Potter explained that he held his wand, he called it out, loud and clear. "Draco Malfoy's wand defeated the Elderwand. And I hold it now."
The duelling was over before Draco had understood what Potter had said, and Voldemort fell.
He fell.
He fell, and finally, finally he was dead.
Draco thought he would fall himself, of relief, of exhaustion, he could not have said.
But someone pulled at him. Someone had looked through the disillusion. "Traitor," he heard them say. "You helped Potter. You gave him your wand."
Draco could not help himself. He laughed. He had finally been found out as a traitor but nor for something he had willingly done. Voldemort was dead, but he held a weak wand, had run out of Phoenix Potion. This was the moment he would die.
Suddenly he felt a tiny hand in his and felt the tug at his navel that meant that he had been apparated away. He heard Goyle's wand clatter on the ground of the hall, he felt the two last vials of Phoenix Potion slip from his fingers, the moment he was pulled away.
He stood on green grass, Prudy's hand in his, but two men had taken hold of him as well. They raised their wands.
"Avada….", they began… Prudy threw something on his head, that enveloped him in a sudden icy feeling that let him think that he was thrown into a place where even the memory of the sun would dissipate. He thought his head would split and everything went black.
Notes:
So, this is the last canon-bent chapter... This won't be the last flash-back chapter though.
Edit: I edited this chapter (August 8, 2021) because I realized that the moment Draco doused himself with Phoenix Potion must be after he used spells on himself. So I fixed that plot hole.
Chapter 42: Pillow talk III
Summary:
Hermione comes home from the occamy chase and she realizes that there might be a long-time negative effect of Draco's scutum.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Hermione apparated home after she had said goodbye to Luna. She frowned when she saw her parents' car in front of the house. It was a normal Tuesday, usually her parents visited on Fridays.
When she entered, Robert ran into her, laughing and giggling as her mother chased after him. Meg was sitting with her father on the sofa and he showed her a book about the evil imps named "cav" and "ity" who would try to build a house for themselves in her teeth if she did not brush them thoroughly.
Hermione picked Robert up, cuddled him and then kissed her mother on the cheek. Meg and her father waved to her.
"Where's Draco?", she asked, worried.
"He's got a bout of migraine," her mother answered. "He texted me around noon, and we came over."
"We had just decided to have some dinner, when your little rascal here, decided to play tag," her father said.
"We'll prepare everything, you just go upstairs and look after Draco."
When Hermione entered their bedroom, the curtains were drawn. Draco lay in bed, his eyes closed, a small bucket at the side of his bed. Hermione was unsure if he slept and tiptoed in.
He opened his eyes and whispered: "I'm not asleep."
"Why didn't you text me?", she asked, her voice low. "I would have come. I was just wasting time with Luna on her occamy chase."
"You know, Monica and Wendell don't mind. They love looking after their grandchildren. And Tuesday is your long day."
Hermione carefully seated herself at the edge of his bed. "How is it?"
"Getting better. Started this morning around noon."
"Why didn't you take the pills Dr Maws prescribed?"
"Because they are useless…. Not entirely. They stop the migraine, but I hate the side effects."
He gestured around. "I know how to do this, dark room, lay still, no noise, bucket in case I throw up."
Hermione was familiar with the scenario. It happened all too often lately.
"What side effects?" she asked.
"Don't laugh," Draco said.
Hermione arched a questioning eyebrow.
"Headache."
Hermione laughed. "Sorry," she said immediately. "I am so sorry. I know that migraine is not the same as headache."
Draco sighed. "And a right strong one as well. If I have appointments, I do take them, to get through, but then I'm miserable and snappish."
"Are you up to having dinner yet?"
Draco gave a minuscule shake of his head, that showed that he was not yet able to move. "No."
Hermione carefully touched his cheek with her fingertips.
"You do get these more often," she observed.
Draco closed his eyes, but did not answer, a sure sign that he had realised as well.
"Is it a side effect of the C.o.C.? Now, that it is so erratic?", Hermione asked.
"Could be. Migraine is malicious enough."
Hermione looked sharply at her husband. "Could be". To her that sounded evasive. The question was if Draco was evasive by intention.
She did not believe in evading truths. "It could also be your pent-up magic."
His silence told her all.
"You do believe so as well," she whispered.
She felt as if a fist had clenched her heart. "Is it a danger to you?"
He leaned into her hand ever so lightly, so that she felt his cheek with her whole hand and not just her fingertips. So, she was not alone in thinking that the long-time effect of his pent-up magic might be a problem.
"You know," she said. "Maybe we should try to find this Malfoy cousin 20 times and something removed. A new head of house could revoke the curse, couldn't he?"
"That means poring over many old dusty volumes on family trees. Even you would not find this entertaining."
Hermione made a face. "Certainly not, but boring has never hold me back. It is a pity we cannot use the library at the Manor. That would be the obvious starting point."
"I assume that my mother has already started. Someone should give my mother a hint, that she should donate the books. Maybe to the Hogwarts library?"
"I could write to Headmaster Flitwick." Hermione suggested.
"Nevillle wants me to come to Hogwarts for a day to give a demonstration of the scutum." Draco frowned. "I don't know why. Probably, a Neville plan to demonstrate house unity or something….. But I could do that and have a look at the library."
"Why don't we both go? We never went to the library together. That could be fun." Hermione tried to lighten the mood.
"And there is always the chance that my mother manages to reduce the inheritance to nothing, so that the curse dies."
"Then we still would have to find a way to get rid of the scutum. At least, if it is the scutum that causes the problems."
"O.t.a.a.t. One thing at a time, Granger. You go and have dinner with Monica and Wendell."
Notes:
Thanks to everyone who comments, bookmarks, subscribes and leaves kudos! There are several plot lines in this fic but they should all tie up nicely (or at least it does look that way in my outline).
Chapter 43: Some testimonies at the Malfoy trial (January 2002-March 2002)
Summary:
Varied minutes of Draco's trial.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
[defence] Mr Longbottom. You have been a rather prominent figure in the resistance at Hogwarts in your seventh year. Could you please tell your impression of Mr Malfoy in that year?
[witness] He was quite different than in sixth year. In sixth year, he had been secretive. He usually had been one of the best in class, especially in potions. His grades became worse, as if it wasn't important. He was secretive and nervous. In seventh year, he was trying to be inconspicuous.
[defence] Could you explain what you mean by inconspicuous?
[witness] Well, Malfoy has never been inconspicuous in his school career. That is why I realised that he was off, absolutely off. Inconspicuous is not the word I would have used to describe him before seventh year, but seventh year he tried to become invisible. His disillusionment charms were superb. Sometimes, especially in DADA he would sneak out of the classroom, disillusioned, just after the Carrows had checked that everyone was present. His failure at casting the cruciatus correctly was a point of mockery the Carrows revisited quite often. As if it would be a bad thing to fail at that. I don't know if he ever even ate. Even I could see that he had become as thin as a stick.
[defence] So, what is your conclusion, Mr Longbottom
[witness] He didn't like what the Carrows did, that's for certain. He never outright refused them either, but he was not the only one. For many of us the pressure was too great. I hardly blame them. They would rather cast the cruciatus themselves than be at the receiving end. It was cruel and entirely wrong. But Malfoy had no fun doing that, that I can tell.
[prosecution] Ms Lovegood, could you please tell us what happened when you, Mr Longbottom and Ms Weasley tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor?
[witness] Malfoy interrupted us. Headmaster Snape was not in his office, and we had the sword already. There was a fight. Malfoy held his ground against us, and our plan was thwarted when the Headmaster interrupted us.
[prosecution] So, Mr Malfoy's intent was preventing you from stealing the sword for Harry Potter. Did he pursue you, observe you?
[witness] Oh, I think he wanted to talk to Snape, and that it was only an accident that he met us.
[prosecution] Why did he attack you, then?
[witness] That was probably out of habit, a reflex, you could say, from both our sides. See Malfoy, throw a hex… It happened all the time….
[prosecution] Please be precise, did Mr Malfoy want to prevent an act that was orchestrated by the resistance?
[witness] Oh, I wouldn't say that. You know Snape was a double agent, and if Malfoy knew that, he was a double agent as well. Then it would have been just a misunderstanding within the resistance, eh? And Snape managed to give the sword to Harry Potter and it was used to destroy horcruxes, so you could say, that in the end, it helped the cause against Voldemort to prevent our theft. It depends of course entirely on the question if you believe Malfoy's claim that he was in an understanding with Snape.
[prosecution] You were a prisoner in Malfoy manor for months. Wouldn't you say that his paints Mr Malfoy in a bad light?
[defence] objection
[judge] sustained, rephrase your question.
[prosecution] Did you see Mr Draco Malfoy in your time at the Manor?
[witness] No, and honestly, I don't see how I could have seen him. He was at school. I doubt he even knew who was in the cellar. (taps her lips in thought) Prudy knew of course.
[prosecution] So Draco Malfoy's very personal elf knew you were a prisoner?
[witness] Yes, of course Prudy knew. She was the elf who smuggled more food to us. (smiles). So logically speaking, Draco might have known I was there. Or Prudy did this of her own accord. You would have to ask her.
[prosecution] Professor Slughorn, as a potions master, would you say, that the accused's claim that he brewed this so-called Phoenix Potion has any basis in probability.
[witness] No, he said that he had to do it all muggle style. We know only of one potion that can be brewed muggle style in a variant, but that takes a year at least. There is no way, that Draco Malfoy could have brewed a potion muggle style in the matter of weeks. A potion that in addition to that was supposedly potent enough to repel unforgivables. Even potions masters take years to develop new potions. He wasn't that good in potions when he was in my class. Harry Potter was much better.
[defence] Ms Parkinson, could you please explain the mutual understanding you had with Mr Draco Malfoy on the cruciatus?
[witness] Whenever the Carrows told us to crucio the other we would make a great show of our pain and pretend that it hurt far more than it actually did.
[defence] Did you talk about this?
[witness] (laughs bitterly) Nobody would talk openly. The Carrows took great pains to pair us in such a way, that it was almost impossible to arrange something like that. I wouldn't have dared to assume if Draco hadn't taken the risk to tell me.
[prosecution] Mr Weasley, you have given us your version of the events at Malfoy Manor. The next question is very important. Did Mr Malfoy recognize Harry Potter?
[witness] No, I don't think he did. I wouldn't have recognized him as distorted as his face was. He would have sold us to Voldemort, if he had been sure about Harry.
[prosecution] Mr Weasley, I want you to give your assessment on what Mr Malfoy's intention was, when he intercepted Mr Potter, you and Ms Granger in Hogwarts when you were looking for a Horcrux.
[witness] He wanted to catch Harry and sell him to Voldemort to get back into his good graces.
[defence] Mr Weasley, can you please tell us, what Mr Malfoy's exact words were in the Room of Hidden things?
[witness] He shouted "Stop. Don't kill him". He wanted him alive to give him to Voldemort.
[defence] Did he say so? Did he say "I want him alive to give him to Voldemort".
[witness] No.
[defence] So, it would be possible that he just meant what he said, namely that he didn't want Vincent Crabbe to kill Harry Potter.
[witness] Later he talked to another Death Eater, showed his mark and said "I am on your side," even though Harry had just saved his life.
[defence] How do you know that?
[witness] We were under Harry's invisibility cloak and heard that, as you very well know.
[defence] But Mr Malfoy did not see you.
[witness] No.
[defence] So, to Mr Malfoy it looked like there was just one Death Eater who was about to kill him.
[witness] Yes.
[defence] So, what would you have done, Mr Weasley? Alone against someone who wanted to kill you. Might you have tried to convince your opponent not to kill you by whatever means possible?
[witness] (did not answer).
[prosecution] Mr Goyle, you were acquitted due to your age as well as to the fact that you did refrain from fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts. You have known Mr Malfoy for some time. Did you ever get the impression that Mr Malfoy had defected, was working against Voldemort?
[witness] No. Draco was upset when his dad had blundered at the end of 5th year. He got the mark before 6th year and got the task to kill Dumbledore. He failed at that. He and his father were out of grace with the Dark Lord since then and then the disaster at Malfoy Manor happened. He wanted to get back into the Dark Lord's graces ever since then. I am quite sure he never worked against him.
[judge] Does the defence have any questions.
[defence] None. I would just alert the wizengamot to Mr Goyle's very revealing choice of words. Someone who talks about the "Dark Lord" might not be unbiased and might have his own agenda.
[prosecution] Mr Shacklebolt, you are here as head of the aurors. We need your expertise on the scutum spell. Does it really shield from unforgivables?
[witness] Yes. The moment it is cast, the person under the scutum is protected but unable to perform magic. It is useful as a last resort to save people, but the disadvantage is of course that the person cannot cast spells.
[prosecution] Do you have any reason to suspect that there is a potion that could work in the same way?
[witness] In theory, potions can work similarly or very similarly to spells. Pepper-up potion and cheering spells. It would be a very advanced potion.
[prosecution] Did you find evidence of a potion like this after the battle at Hogwarts.
[witness] No, but we didn't look for it and since we started directly with the rebuilding, any evidence that might have been there is long lost. And we didn't even know about the scutum spell. We have only been able to cast that after Ms Granger showed us.
[prosecution] How long have your aurors been able to hold the scutum spell?
[witness] The longest anybody managed was five minutes straight. It is a very taxing spell.
[prosecution] Would it be possible to cast it for say the duration of half an hour or even three quarter of an hour?
[witness] I don't think so.
[prosecution] If as you said, Mr Malfoy freed you during the Battle of Hogwarts, why did you stay with him?
[witness] We had been working together on the Phoenix Potion for months. When he freed me, it showed me, that he cared, and I did not want him to die. So, I used the scutum spell in the carrier Severus Snape had given me. He lost consciousness then, and the deatheaters thought they had killed him and disapparated.
[witness] The shock of losing his magic must have triggered a complete memory loss. We were in the middle of Muggle London and he had absolutely no idea. I obviously could not use magic on him, but I used an elven spell.
[prosecution] What kind of elven spell?
[witness] I won't disclose secrets from my people. Let's just say it is a kind of spell, that helps find people who will give shelter and home. Draco was picked up by a muggle policeman, who works with young offenders, that is criminals who are not yet of legal age. According to muggle standards Draco was not yet of age at that point. It turned out that someone did not turn up, someone whose place and name Draco took. He became Duncan Miller then.
[prosecution] You could have left him then, when he had found a place to live?
[witness] I did not want to leave him. He was completely at a loss, had no idea about the muggle world, didn't remember a thing. Everything made no sense to him. I had decided to stay with him until he regained his memory. When he did remember and returned to wizarding London last September, I applied for a job at Hogwarts, knowing that they take elves as employees there.
[prosecution] Did you look for these so-called notes on the Phoenix Potion when you came to Hogwarts?
[witness] Unfortunately, Draco did not tell me, where he put the notes. So, I have no idea where they are. I can testify that these notes existed, and that Draco worked on that potion, and that the potion was effective, but I see that the testimony of a mere house elf is not enough. It is a pity really. Think of the many uses the Phoenix Potion could have ….
[defence] The next witness is a muggle, Mr Malcolm Fortescue. Therefore, I will put an illusion charm on him so that to him this courtroom looks like a muggle courtroom and I would ask to refrain from any questions mentioning magic.
[judge] This is highly unusual, Ms Granger. Is this necessary?
[defence] In muggle trials witnesses can be called to give testimony on the character of a person. And I think it is important how Mr Malfoy spent the three years after the battle of Hogwarts in the muggle world.
[defence] Mr Fortescue, could you please tell the jury of this court how you met the man you know as Duncan Miller?
[witness] I have a friend Rick who is a social worker with teenagers and young adults who have slipped into right extremist milieus. Sometimes, if he thinks the person in question is just misguided and needs an honest work to pull himself out of this crab, he sends them to me, and they work for me. My wife is from Pakistan, so they either learn to curb their racist shit pretty soon, or they blow their chance. Sometimes it doesn't work out, or catering is just not for them, and they will move on, hopefully as better persons. Duncan stayed. He has a real talent for cooking. And he never stepped out of line. So, he's been working for me ever since May 1998.
[defence] Could you please explain why you trust him, and elaborate why you think he has left his extremist opinions behind, Mr Fortescue?
[witness] Poor boy was a right mess, when he came to me. Post traumatic stress disorder, the headshrinker said. Could barely remember his name. Talked with his imaginary friend, a little goblin or elf or whatever. It was quite obvious, that he had been in a bad place. He was thin as a stick and the first months he would flinch at every loud noise.
[witness] Apart from that…. Jesus Christ, he obviously was a spoiled brat. That accent and his hands! He had never done any honest work whatsoever, I am sure, not one day of his life.
[witness] And there was that ring! Looked like a fancy nobleman's ring. Born with a golden spoon in his mouth. I swear, he thought that everything in the kitchen would just be done by magic. (chuckles). Wherever he grew up, he must have had a lot of servants, probably had his own valet at a time.
[witness] Anyway, he has this ugly tattoo on his left arm, skulls and snake and shit like that. Said getting that was the biggest mistake of his life. And never spoke a word against my wife. Was always the gentleman, brought her flowers for her birthday.
[witness] Then last September, something triggered his memory. Said he remembered something important. That he had to get back, turn himself in, something like that. Said, he had to reunite parents and daughter?
[witness] I don't even know, why he gets a full trial. I mean he was still seventeen when he came to me, not an adult yet. Should be judged as a young offender. He certainly didn't do anything while he worked for me. Even if you give him probation, I'd give him back his work. He and his posh accent (laughs). I tell you it's an asset for my customers. When he plays the disinherited nobleman fallen on hard times but with impeccable manners it always gets them.
[prosecution] Mr Fortescue, has Mr Mal… ehm, Mr Miller ever told you anything about his origins.
[witness] No. Even if he'd wanted, he probably could not have done it. He was suffering from memory loss. And I didn't ask. It was obvious, he didn't want to talk about it.
[defence] The next witness is again a muggle. Dr Williams is a muggle doctor who specialises in mental illnesses. He has treated Mr Malfoy for his memory loss.
[judge] Ms Granger, I ask you again, if this is necessary?
[defence] Considering that Mr Malfoy did tell some of his opinions on Voldemort and the war to Dr Williams I think this is necessary. And lest the prosecution claims that this was an offense against the statute of secrecy, Dr Williams will explain under what circumstances Mr Malfoy told his doctor about Voldemort. Dr Williams will probably use the acronym PTSD. It is an acronym for a medical condition called post traumatic stress disorder. It describes the disruption that might happen in a brain after extreme stressful circumstances, after injuries, torture, war etc.
[defence] Dr Williams, could you please tell the jury about your patient, Mr Duncan Miller, whatever you can disclose will be of help.
[witness] I have been treating Mr Miller for memory loss after PTSD for two years. His PTSD was rather bad. In certain aspects he relapsed into childhood patterns. He had this imaginary friend, called Prudy, he insisted he saw around. He never made any progress in that regard. Everytime he told me, he didn't see this Prudy any longer, I knew he was lying.
[witness] His memory loss got better though. It was at first very general, but became more specific. It was as if certain events had been cut out of his memory in a very fascinating way. He could remember that something had happened, but could not conjure any images to the memory. To name an example. Apparently, there was an event that he called the Yule Ball, and he knew that the girl he had a crush on was somehow the most beautiful girl at this ball, that she wore a gorgeous dress, but he could not tell me what colour the dress had been.
[witness] (holds up a book with sketches) I let him draw anything and anyone that came to his mind. Fortunately, he has a bit of a talent for drawing. I mean you can recognize the people he drew. Sometimes he would remember a phrase or a sentence.
[witness] Should I point them out? Look there, the lady there in the background. That's his mother. He dreamed about her quite often. Told me she was in much danger. He didn't want to draw his father though. He blamed him for the mess that his life had become. The young man over there, he is in there. "Crazy Gryffindor". He might be the same as the boy on this other picture. "Have you seen my toad". Although he has certainly grown into better looks. And the man over there with the scar on his head is "Saint Potter". And then there are quite a lot of pictures of his crush… (looks up).
[defence] I don't think this is that important. Please tell us about the dreams.
[witness] At first, he didn't remember anything at all, only bits and pieces in dreams. I encouraged him to tell me about his dreams. Because that can trigger the memories. He never recovered his memories fully in our sessions.
[witness] Even if the imagery of dreams can be very weird and fantastic, we can still deduce things about the mind and help the patient to heal. I can assure you that the dreams of Mr Miller seemed to have come straight from cross-over between a fantasy novel and an organised crime movie (laughs).
[witness] Someone should make a novel out of them, although he was not the hero. (laughs again). There was an evil wizard, I mean a wizard, imagine that. Mr Miller just called him the 'homicidal maniac'. Even in his dreams he would shy from his name. He had a gang of criminals, called death eaters, if you can believe that. Ridiculous name. Apparently, he joined this evil gang because homicidal maniac threatened to kill his mother. And homicidal maniac lived in his house. He then was tasked with killing someone and failed. He told me that he couldn't do it. And then he began to work against homicidal maniac together with another one of these gangsters. That was really at the heart of his PTSD if you ask me. Living in constant fear for months, plotting something that involved a so-called 'magic potion'. (shakes head). He and his ally wanted to poison 'homicidal maniac' or something to that effect.
[witness] The part about 'Saint Potter' was a bit fuzzy. Apparently, he was part of a different gang and he was caught and brought to his house. Then there was something very obscure about 'his deranged aunt'. I didn't quite get that and Mr Miller's dreams about that were very fuzzy and produced a huge amount of anxiety. Anyway, it seemed to be very important, that 'Saint Potter' escaped. It got very fantastic after that, because this Potter and his gang were vanished by elves (laughs) Elves! The plot to poison 'homicidal maniac' somehow failed, but he still was killed in the end. Mr Miller barely escaped members of his own gang that wanted to kill him as a traitor.
[witness] Usually, in dreams like this, there is a kernel of truth, but it would be difficult to identify the real people that are behind this fairy tale – or maybe mobster movie personas. I do think that we can say for certain though, that Mr Miller had an extreme dislike for the boss of his gang, and that he apparently balked at being ordered to kill up to a point where he worked against his boss.
[defence] Thank you Dr Williams. This is indeed the conclusion that I wanted to argue for the defence.