Harry had to recruit Neville for their case after all. So far, Pansy had not stormed into his office demanding answers on why Malfoy was observed which meant that nobody had told her yet. Which in turn meant that Harry still did not know whom to trust. Apart from the fact that Neville was the only person who at least had a plausible excuse to show up at Fawley's house, who was for now the only real suspect they had.
Some of the galleons Percy had prepared had vanished completely, their recording spell evaporated, which probably meant that they had been melted down and sold on the Muggle market for gold. With accumulating crisis all over the globe, the price for gold had rocketed and melting the galleons for the gold could render a solid profit. Percy had given him the details and would hopefully be able to explain this at court. Harry knew it meant, that goblins were somehow involved. Goblins supervised the galleons after all. At least he had been able to put Luna off about the occamy smugglers. He had a bout of bad conscience about that, but he really had his plate full.
Pansy and her dogged effort had produced results. They now had proof that the figurines were sold in a considerable amount throughout the city, maybe not a method to detect all muggleborns, but certainly better than the occasional check for accidental magic. And she had experimented with the drone she had bought. Apparently, she had managed to transfigure the thing into a bird, put a scutum on it, and tried to steer it with Neville's new phone. The drone had crashed and was no more, but it had worked and would work again with sufficient practice.
Harry's surprise when Pansy had brought Dudley to the department had been only topped by the reveal that Dudley had a magical son with a half-Indian mother. Harry had been positively giggling when he pictured Aunt Petunia's face distorted in indignation over that development, but their discussion had soon turned serious.
All hope that Neill might not yet have been on the radar of the attackers fled though, when Neill had told them, that he had fed a large magpie that had been in their garden. Neill looked robust and healthy enough, but Harry was deeply worried.
It had been no problem to persuade Dudley to help them with the muggle stuff. But they needed physical access to the phones. And then Dudley would try a 'hack', whatever that was.
That was where Neville came in. When Harry had approached Neville and Pansy, Neville made a valiant effort to pretend that he had no idea what Harry was talking about and that Pansy had not already told him. Harry in turn explained everything in detail. Pansy rolled her eyes, but Harry was skirting the edges of the law anyway, and he would not be sloppy.
"So, do you have an excuse to visit Fawley? As a teacher?" Harry asked.
"Sure." Neville seemed positively eager at the prospect. "Fawley was one of the parents who sent a howler complaining about Astoria's and my teaching methods in DADA. I can easily tell him that I want to explain. Not that he would try to understand. He is a bigoted idiot. And if that's not good enough I can share my concern about his daughter's erratic magic."
"There are parents who actually send howlers to teachers?" Harry shook his head. "Why?"
Neville's smile was smug. "I doubt any parent will ever try again. Hermione showed me her trick how to return howlers to the sender. I tell them, that they can talk to me any time they want to, but in a civilised manner."
'In a civilised manner'. That was so typical of Neville, that Harry had to smile, despite the casual mention of Hermione.
"So, you'll give Fawley the opportunity to discuss your teaching methods in a 'civilised manner'. And Pansy will sneak around to find his phone." Harry rummaged in his bag and unpacked his invisibility cloak. "In this."
Pansy took the cloak, awe on her face. "You trust me with this, boss?"
"You and Teddy are the only people in the department I really trust." That was nothing but the truth, and hopefully Pansy would remember that.
Neville reached over and let his fingers run over the exquisite fabric. "I could have sworn…." He looked thoughtful.
"What?"
Neville scrunched his nose. "I suspected James to have brought it to Hogwarts after Christmas. I've not caught him or Richard sneaking around since then. And I don't think he suddenly has become rule-abiding."
Harry laughed. "Merlin, James swore that he had not used it. I had to fetch it, actually. He has tried to nick it and take it to school ever since he got his Hogwarts letter. It's a sort of game we play. And this time he succeeded. I was distracted, with Ron returning from the States and all that."
"Your son really is a handful." Neville shook his head. "And Richard as well. Did you know they are called the disaster twins?"
Harry shrugged, smiling apologetically. "I know."
"So, you won't come along to Fawley?" Pansy asked.
"No, I'll try to hunt down possible curses that might fit with what happened to Emma. A visit to Malfoy Manor is in order, I think." He tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible.
Ginny always told him that he should trust other people to help him. So, he would trust Pansy and Neville to handle Fawley, Dudley with the muggle stuff, Percy with the money end of this nasty business and Teddy with combing through the archive notes in the memory vault. Teddy's research might give them additional hints as to who was to be trusted, unless the helps at the vault were always as careless as they had been when Harry went there.
And he would trust Narcissa Malfoy to be as obliging in sorting out dark magic as ever. He already had an idea how he might pay her back this time. And he could trust Ron to fulfil the role of the man with a grudge. Ron just needed to be Ron for that after all.
Since the vial he needed had vanished, he had to talk to other witnesses, and Narcissa might be willing to give him her memory. Prudy had been exceptionally unhelpful. That elf positively hated him. And she was in her rights to deny him. He could not coerce a free elf to give him her memories.
Harry sighed. He should have known that keeping that vial secret would bite him in the arse at some point. At the time it had seemed so logical. Keep that secret until Hermione had come to her senses. Only she never did. Or rather she had never been out of her senses. It was still difficult to admit even to himself that he had been well and expertly spoofed. And what grated him even more, that he never had found out who had tempered with Malfoy's flat.
"Have you ever done something exceptionally bad and stupid and come to regret it in hindsight?", he asked his friends.
Pansy stared at him. "Harry?"
Her voice sounded half worried and half playful. "You do remember that I foolishly demanded that McGonagall should deliver you to Voldemort? I think that would fall under that category."
Harry gave an involuntary laugh. "I wasn't talking about you."
"We gathered as much," Neville's voice was playful as well. "You do realise that humans make mistakes, Harry. Even chosen ones."
"Do you want to talk about it?", he added.
James and Richard had told him that Neville was very good in gaining the students' trust, and Harry felt a distinct pull to unburden himself. He shook himself out of his reverie.
"I deny everything, Professor Longbottom, I don't want to get detention."
"Such a pity, I would have loved to see you getting detention from a Gryffindor for breaking rules for once," Pansy said. She sounded as if she was half-serious.
Notes:
So, another Harry PoV and mystery chapter ...
Chapter 50: Goblin silver at Malfoy Manor
Summary:
Harry tries to untangle some of the questions with Narcissa's help.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When Harry arrived at the Manor, he almost thought he had come to the wrong place. The dining room was a mess. There were huge stacks of books lying around, ready to be packed.
Harry pretended that nothing was amiss. He had learned from earlier visits, that it was better to go with Narcissa's explanations just in case. Narcissa had dodged the side effects of the cut out for almost two decades after all and as far as Harry knew she had never been thrown out of the house.
He gave Narcissa the pale pink roses he had brought as a gift, the cake he had purchased at the street shop of Fortescue and Miller.
"I know you have plenty of roses in your garden, but I do think the colour suits you."
Harry gave her a bow. "And I have bought this cake. It is from a muggle caterer, but apparently it is very good, and a huge success. I had a taste of it myself at Neville's and Pansy's wedding and it is delicious. Chocalate-lemon flavour. I left their card in the bag. There is a number on that card. Muggles have these devices they call phones and they use the numbers and then they speak to each other." She would have to puzzle this out. Harry did not dare to show her how it worked.
Narcissa smiled. "How thoughtful of you, Mr. Potter. Pardon the mess. I'll make some tea before you can tell me why you came."
"I donated some of the books of our library to Hogwarts," Narcissa told him, with a wave of her hand over the book stacks. "The headmaster wrote to me and it seems that they are sadly lacking in some important fields."
Harry arched an eyebrow. "Some books, I see," he remarked.
"The Head girl even wrote me a thank you letter." Narcissa beamed.
"Did she?" Harry blinked, wondering how a letter by Rina Granger-Malfoy had reached Narcissa safely.
Narcissa's instinct were well tuned to Harry's unspoken question. "She just wrote as the Head Girl. She didn't even bother to give a name. I got the feeling she coerced the Head Boy into adding a few lines and she sent a photo with some students from every house."
She smiled and showed Harry the photo.
"Students from every house." That was technically true. Rina Granger-Malfoy with her co-head, siblings and a friend from Ravenclaw would also be an accurate description. The children sat in the sun at the Lake and waved happily. Leave it to the Malfoys to find loopholes. Harry shook his head, but he also had to fight a smile. The books were priceless, old, dusty tomes, probably unique Harry was sure. Another way to reduce the Malfoy fortune.
Narcissa went off to prepare tea and Harry was surprised, when she came back into the living room with a huge teapot.
"Mrs Malfoy, I cannot possibly drink that much tea." Harry protested.
"I am expecting some goblins. It's not all for you."
"Do you intend to throw a tea party for goblins?", Harry asked.
Narcissa shook her head. "It has recently come to my attention, that goblins have quite a different concept on ownership and possession than we, witches and wizards, have."
She pointed at the silver dishes that were on display in the cupboards of the dining room.
"Can you imagine that all this goblin made silver wasn't really in the possession of the Malfoys? If you accept the goblins' idea on possessions, we just borrowed it and the gold we gave for them was just a fee."
She calmly stirred milk and sugar into her tea.
"As it happens, Pumka, a goblin silversmith contacted me just about the time I had become aware of this very interesting fact in a conversation with an international expert on magical beings. Pumka will arrive shortly to discuss the conditions of the return. It happens that the goblins are keen on retrieving old goblin made silver. They claim that they have lost some of their abilities in metalworking and want to hone their skills by studying their old craft."
She raised the teacup to her lips. "They are so eager to get their hands on the old goblin silver that they would even forego suing me for centuries of fees, the Malfoys neglected to pay for the continuous use of the goblin silverware."
She sipped slowly and put the cup back on the saucer. "That would hardly be fair though. I want to pay my debts, don't you agree Mr. Potter? And I had my fair share of trials. It is not as if I would set a precedent. I will be careful to avoid that."
Harry was flummoxed. "I do have my doubts if other wizarding families will follow the same policy of being so lenient with their money, but it makes perfect sense for you."
"Oh yes, it does, after all money is not that important. I recently read in the Daily Prophet that wizards have heated discussion on money and happiness and how they are connected in public. It even came to brawls, if you can believe that."
Harry laughed out loud, even coming close to tears by the description of Ron's and Malfoy's brawl as a philosophical discussion. He wiped his eyes. "I got a firsthand account by several eyewitnesses. No bones were broken."
"I am glad to hear that. We should be civilised after all."
She opened the box with the cake, cut it and served a piece to Harry.
"If you happen to learn more about why the goblins are so eager about the old silver, I would be very much obliged, if you could tell me. I have a case that might involve goblins." Harry could not see how this might tie in with the money laundering, but it never hurt to look for connections. He sipped from his own tea. As always it was a most delicious blend. Mixed with the cake it was a treat.
"I have a theory," Narcissa said. "This silver is older than the goblin rebellion. When goblins made them, they were still allowed to use wands. And that in turn makes the silver more ready to absorb spells and charms."
"Like the enchantment on the sword of Gryffindor, that makes it absorb the magic of the defeated."
Narcissa nodded.
Harry would have to ponder this. He doubted that it was good news if goblins indeed needed spellabsorbable silver. He remembered that cursed jewellery often was of goblin origin. The cursed necklace that had almost killed Katie Bell came to his mind.
If goblins wanted to re-buy goblin made trinkets all over the country, they needed money. And he was certain, that no other wizarding family would give them money in addition to returning the silver. So, the need for money was a given, the question remained why.
When they had finished their pieces of the cake which was just as delicious as Harry remembered, Narcissa finally asked what had brought him to the Manor.
"I need one of your memories. When my friends and I were brought here by Snatchers and we escaped, Severus Snape saved your life and the life of…. others."
Narcissa suppressed a shudder. "Not a pleasant memory."
"I know, and I am sorry. The involved house elf would barely even talk to me, and I've already asked Severus' portrait in Hogwarts, but it was one of the spells he developed after he had prepared his portrait. He was in haste when he prepared the portrait and he had focused on what he had to tell me about the horcruxes. Some of his inventions are lost."
"As are some of the inventions he initiated," Narcissa remarked. "or potions. He was a skilled potions master after all."
Harry would not be side-tracked by discussion on the Phoenix potion. "I'm certain he didn't teach it to anyone as it is potentially very dangerous. I think he used it that day, though….." Harry let his voice trail off, before he was tempted to say Malfoy's name. He could hardly call Draco ferret or Malfoy in Narcissa's hearing.
"The spell that seemingly syphons magical strength from one person to another?"
"Yes, that's the very one."
"Whatever he did, he used it nonverbally."
"I know, but I wanted to have a look. It might give me a clue."
"Has someone used this spell?"
Harry nodded. "And if my suspicion is correct, a muggleborn child of ten has died because of it."
"If muggleborn children were introduced earlier to wizarding society crimes like that might be prevented," Narcissa remarked.
Harry blinked rapidly, his eyes widening.
"Why do you look so surprised, Mr Potter? You've come for years to pick my brain, to get my help in fighting dark magic. You can't be surprised that I have changed some of my opinions. There is a muggleborn witch whose name keeps slipping my mind who makes very valid points about muggleborns in the Quibbler."
She poured herself more tea, her mouth set in a hard line.
"I apologize, Mrs Malfoy" Harry was contrite. "It makes absolute sense that a woman of your intelligence would be convinced by sound arguments."
She mellowed at his compliment.
Harry winked at her. "It might be an excellent idea to fund projects that try to remedy that horrid situation."
"That, Mr Potter, is an excellent idea."
She stood. "Let's have a look at that memory."
She led him to the Malfoy pensieve and she even accompanied him when he looked in.
Afterwards they agreed that the spell Severus had used had a turquoise hue that suggested that it was not inherently malevolent but could be used like that.
"Not deadly per se," Narcissa concluded. "Potentially deadly if all magic is drained."
"Or if one would manage to perpetuate the spell." Harry frowned. They really needed to find that carrier.
"I am sure, that Severus had an idea about that as well."
"I really wish we could see Draco's memory of the application of his scutum." Harry spoke his thoughts out loud in his frustration.
He barely heard Narcissa's cry before the house threw him out. He landed on the pavement in front of the manor's gates, bruises and scratches all over him in a matter of seconds.
Harry cursed his own stupidity. He waved his wand and sent his patronus back into the manor to tell Narcissa that he was unharmed and that he would return at the earliest opportunity, when the house had settled down. He groaned when he picked himself up. Experience told him that he could not hex these bruises away. He would carry them as a reminder of his stupidity.
"Almost forty," he mumbled to himself. "And I still don't know when not to speak a name out loud. Should have called him ferret after all."
Notes:
Thanks lovelies for your comments. I appreciate that very much.
Chapter 51: Duty soliciting (September 22, 2001)
Summary:
Draco awaits the meeting with the person assigned to his defence
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Draco was sitting in a provisional cell. He had told the aurors several times that they could not transport him in the usual ways. They had not believed him. It had taken them about ten tries to side-along him and five tries to portkey him until they had finally accepted, that the only way to bring him to Azkaban would be on a broom or on a Thestral, a long and tedious journey to a windy and rainy island in the middle of nowhere.
Since he was not yet tried and sentenced, they had decided to keep him in an abandoned bureau in the auror department. Harry Potter had been the one to suggest muggle handcuffs. Draco shook his head. Of course, it had been his luck to walk into newly appointed aurors at the Leaky Cauldron. He had hoped, that he would have a chance to bring Hermione's parents personally to her before being apprehended. At least some of her friends had been there. Draco supposed that Luna Lovegood could focus long enough to lead the Grangers to their daughter.
Fortunately, he had something to do. Longbottom who was an auror now had agreed to give him paper and pencil, so that he could draw. Aurors were wary around him. No matter how often he explained to them, that he could not use his magic, no matter how often they tried to hit him with a spell or a hex, they still did not seem to get the principle of "nothing in, nothing out". The scutum spell was still a secret. He had decided not to explain further, at least before he had talked with his lawyer. Maybe a new spell would give him leverage to negotiate his sentence.
He sighed. The Weasel had informed him with glee that he would not have a choice in who would represent him at court. He would get a duty solicitor. It was decided that death eaters should get no chance to buy themselves out of a sentence as they had done the last time Voldemort had been around.
They still had a right to be defended. That did not console Draco though. He would probably get a lawyer who had just finished his or her training. Someone with no name, someone who needed the money, and only would do the bare minimum.
They should have sent someone already. It was his third day in custody after all, but the rights of death eaters were not high on the ministry's priority list. No visitors were allowed until they had reached a conclusion on his 'condition', as they called it. They had not yet realised, that Prudy could visit him, simply by apparating, and Draco had no intention of telling them.
Arthur Weasley as minister of magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt as head auror, his father out of grace, under house arrest and wandless. And Saint Potter and the Weasel as favourite pets of the auror department, on top of Longbottom. None of these developments had really come as a surprise. The only surprise and a nice one had been that Pansy had survived the Battle of Hogwarts and had just finished training at the auror department. She had visited him once, but only with another auror, and Draco had assured her, that she owed him nothing. Still, he had the suspicion that she had instigated the return of his paper and pencil. It was not easy to draw with handcuffs, but it was possible.
So, when the door to his 'cell' opened and an auror he did not know announced, that his solicitor had arrived, Draco kept his eyes on his papers. It was tricky to draw curls after all. He heard the door close and a scraping sound told him that the solicitor had taken a chair.
It was the smell, that alerted him. A note of cinnamon, a sharp refreshing lemony overtone and just a hint of fresh paper.
The pencil fell out of his hand, even before he raised his eyes and he saw her. He felt as if he had been hit. His heart began to beat painfully in his chest. The blood left his head, making him nauseous and then returned with a sudden rush that threatened to overwhelm him.
"Hermione."
After that words failed him. He could hear his own breath, loud in his ears, but he could do nothing but stare and drink her in. The woman he had remembered amidst the chaos that was his memories, the woman he had thought to be just a fabrication of his imagination for the last three years, sat there, in flesh and blood, far more beautiful than his drawings, living and breathing.
"Hello Draco," she said, an uncertain smile tugging at her lips. "I'm your legal counsel."
"How is that possible?" His mind reeled.
"I just got my licence this August. You're my first official case."
He shook his head. "Longbottom told me you've gone into law. But wouldn't you… I mean, I think… I …"
He stopped himself, trying to focus. "I couldn't be that lucky, could I? To get you as a duty solicitor?"
He thought he could positively feel his cheeks burning. Maybe all their interactions hadn't been that important for her. She was engaged to the Weasel after all. He shouldn't presume that, just because they had kissed, she would feel as he did.
She laughed. Draco could have wrapped himself in her laugh. It made him want to laugh along.
"Judge Prewett specifically wanted me, and when I asked, if he did not think that I would be biased,…". Her cheeks began to burn in a way that made Draco's heart clench. "I mean with us being classmates and so… And you brought my parents back…."
She inhaled slowly. "Anyway, he told me that he has confidence in my professionalism. And that the wizarding world is so small, that classmates is not a hindrance. Many things are not a hindrance as long as they are addressed."
Draco could hardly believe his luck. "I was led to believe that I would only get a sham of defence."
"Prewett told me to best start my career with a win." Hermione grinned.
"A win?," Draco raised his eyebrows. "I'll be lucky if I get less than five years."
"I want to plead that you defected. Your mother defected and got a year of house arrest and wandban and two additional years of probation. By now she is a free woman."
"My mother defected?" That was news.
"Yes, she lied straight to Voldemort's face, telling him Harry was dead, when he was not, and she did not fight in the Battle of Hogwarts."
"She's free? That means she can visit me?" Draco asked.
Hermione shook her head. "Not before there has been an official decision about your 'condition' as it is called."
"I see, … my 'condition'." He had almost forgot about the scutum. His high spirits plummeted. What would Hermione make of that?
"Draco, you'd best start telling me everything. No secrets. I am your legal counsel." Hermione unpacked papers and prepared to make notes.
"Hermione, I…. ", he started and then he stopped himself. His legal counsel. That is how she saw her role. His heart was pounding against his rib cage, each beat a pain that singed him. 'She forgot me. It was never more than some kisses,' the rhythm of his heart whispered into his brain.
He ran his hands through his hair, wondering if he should have stayed hidden away in Muggle London, finding some other way to bring her parents to her, some other way to see her than to resurface in the wizarding world.
"I hardly know where to start." He looked at her, desperate for some sign, that he was more to her than a charity project, a duty, a step in her career.
Hermione returned his look and his heart took up speed again.
"You know, you could start with telling me where the hell you have been since the battle of Hogwarts." Her eyes suddenly shimmered. "I thought you were dead. I don't know how often I used the querio charm to find you."
She pressed her hands together. "Your parents used a blood spell, but that did not show where you were either, just that you might be alive."
"I thought you were just an imagination of my broken mind." Draco whispered.
They looked at each other for a long time, searchingly letting their eyes wander over each other's faces.
Draco felt like he was hanging over an abyss just by a thread. Thinking about her had been easy, as long as he thought of her as an image, a mirage, something that gave him hope, the girl of his dreams, but not a reality. He had decided to opt for the reality, even if it meant that he might be thrown into prison and fight an uphill battle to be with her. That was better than staying in a dream.
Now, she was here, and she was her own person, and he suddenly knew that if he would not find the right words, he would fall into the abyss, and nothing would save him. She would defend him to the best of her abilities, and they would part ways after. He thought of all the things he had learned in the Muggle world.
"You know, you'd best start at the beginning." Hermione said, in an attempt to be playful.
"I need to say something before that," Draco licked his lips.
"I'll listen."
"You need to know, that to me the beginning is you, it has always been you. And if you want to listen to the beginning, I should speak of that. But if that displeases you, I will be silent on this subject forever."
Hermione stared at him. For a long torturous moment, he could hear her shallow breathing.
"Pride and Prejudice," she finally said. "You've read 'Pride and Prejudice'."
Draco smiled. "I watched the series, first. I somehow thought it fits us, even if FitzWilliam Darcy would be a better man than me, if he existed. But in a world without Voldemort?"
He could see her swallowing.
"Draco," her voice was a ghost of a whisper. "I want you to tell me."
"I only regained some of my memories a few days ago, but sitting here I had a lot of time to think."
He inhaled deeply, his eyes never leaving Hermione's face.
"You were at the beginning of my doubts about the ideas I grew up with. I was told that Muggleborns were stupid, inferior, and ugly, and there you were, right before my eyes. Always better than me, beautiful and smart. You were the living proof that what I thought was wrong."
"You've told me you never hated me, Draco," Hermione smiled. "Remember, that night in the hospital wing? Although it might have been a dream."
"I stored that away." Her face told him, that the kiss they had shared that night might have been good. He knew it had happened, but he only remembered their kisses in the Room of Hidden things.
"And you had friends, who laughed with you, and you ignored me. I was accustomed to being at the centre of my world, to being fawned over. And I could not bear that. I made you notice me…." He stopped. "In the worst possible way."
He laughed awkwardly, when she sat still. "I am so sorry for that."
"It was only after I finally worked it all out, that I knew that I did not want to follow him, that I did not want to become one of his killers. You became the centre of my hope then. Your survival. If it hadn't been for you, I might never have seen through all his hypocrisy. I might have become a killer. I did not have enough of a moral compass just by myself."
He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself, not daring to look at her. "I do not expect anything. But know that I am grateful to you. You made me better than I was."
Hermione did not answer, and Draco did not open his eyes again. He still was hanging by a thread. He wondered if he would physically fall, when the abyss claimed him.
He felt her hand on his, and his eyes snapped open. Her eyes glistened.
"You saved me that day at the manor, saved me from insanity. And I think your potion saved my life several times during the battle. And you brought my parents, although it meant you were arrested."
"I hadn't exactly planned on being arrested," Draco admitted.
"You might not expect anything, but …." She interrupted herself and bit her lip, wiping at her eyes.
Draco raised his hands and tried to reach for her face despite the handcuffs. She let her head fall to the side just so, that her cheek touched the back of his left hand.
"I've thought you were lost to me. I've never regretted anything as intensely as leaving you in front of the Room of Hidden Things. We should have stayed together. Should have gotten through the battle together."
He could feel his left hand twitching slightly with the excitement of feeling her skin.
"We're here now," he said.
Hermione smiled at him, a single tear made its way down her cheek, hitting his thumb.
"I don't have all eternity to speak with you, and I should get some notes for your defence." Her eyes held some regret as if she could imagine better pastimes.
She took his hands and placed them firmly on the table between them. She took her pen for notes, but not before she had quickly brushed his hands.
"Now you'd best start with the day you were forced to take the mark when Voldemort threatened your mother."
Draco left nothing out. Reliving the ordeal that had been his sixth year was painful, but piecing his seventh year together from the bits and pieces he did remember even if he could not conjure any pictures to his mind was exhausting. It made his head hurt and some details were probably lost forever.
Hermione's frown deepened the longer he talked. Draco could see that she had hoped for more evidence that she could use.
"So, to sum up: You were in an understanding with Snape, the double agent, but Snape is dead and cannot testify for you. You stored the memories of your conspirative meetings in a vial currently with your elf, which you sealed with the scutum spell, a spell hitherto unknown. Only you yourself could undo this spell, but you are unable to do it because you yourself were hit with a scutum spell that was applied via a carrier your elf threw on you, a carrier of again unknown origin. As long as you are under the scutum you can tell what happened but there is no chance you can give your memories to a pensieve – which might not be accepted in court anyway, because memories can be tempered with. Also, it is likely that veritasserum cannot be administered to you, again because of the scutum."
"You secretly prepared a potion, the Phoenix Potion, that splits the effect of the scutum, depending on how it is used. Nobody but Snape, who is dead, knew you were working on that potion. Circumstantial witnesses might be your own parents, and Slughorn if he remembers you stole ingredients. And a Ravenclaw girl whose name you cannot remember. You cannot brew that potion again, because you tempered with your memory deliberately, so that Voldmort would not discover your plans. At the day of the Battle of Hogwarts you hid your notes on the potion and again stored that memory away, but somewhere else and with Goyle's wand. You have no idea where that vial is, nor where the notes are. The batch of the potion you successfully brewed, was used up to save people in the Battle of Hogwarts, but you acted under an disillusionment charm, so that only some people might have seen you and they might not have realised what you did, because again, nobody knew about the Phoenix Potion."
"So, the only people who could positively testify for you, are your former house elf and a pupil whose name you don't remember. There is Snape's portrait, but he might not have included memories on his plan B when he made the portrait and even though it is possible he made a memory stash for you, we have no idea where that might be."
Draco groaned and put his head in his hands. "I'll be going to Azkaban, won't I?"
When he looked up, Hermione pressed her lips together in a thin line. She had a very determined look about her. "Don't give up hope. I am sure there is circumstantial evidence that supports your story. And the most important thing is, that you never killed anybody."
"I did use the Imperius on Rosmerta and cast the cruciatus when the Carrows ordered me." Draco whispered, downcast.
"When you cast the Imperius you were underage, and everybody knows the Carrows coerced everyone. We can get around that. None of the seventh years of 1998 were sentenced for that, not even Goyle."
Hermione pressed his hands. "I still think, we can claim you defected, at the very least on the day, Harry, Ron and I were brought to Malfoy manor. You failed to identify Harry, although you clearly knew who he was, and you saved me. And you called Snape."
"Who is dead, as you've repeatedly reminded me."
Hermione scowled not caring for his attempt at flippancy.
"Yes, but your parents will remember, that he came although they did not call him."
"It's such a shame, my testimony wouldn't be admitted." Hermione said. "Not in regard to what happened at the manor, at least. I was subject to the cruciatus and I am therefore an unreliable witness."
"But I thought the scutum worked? You told me it had worked when we met in the Room of Hidden Things.".
Draco shuddered, when Hermione's screams came to his mind. When he had put away his memory on casting the scutum so that Voldemort did not find it, he had left a vivid image of Hermione screaming. Voldemort would have been suspicious if he had found nothing in his supposed follower's mind. Draco could not have known at that time, that he would never be brought before Voldemort again.
"Yes, it did. But nobody believes me. I've been telling my friends for years, that you saved me, but they think that my recollection is warped because of the cruciatus…. Apparently, it is fairly common for victims to be in denial and to fantasize about someone helping them. It is a way of the mind to protect itself."
Draco felt irritation at her friends. "I nearly burned the magic right out of me."
"You don't need to convince me." Hermione reassured him.
She made a knot of her hair and put her pen through it. "You know, when Prewett offered me the defence, I had to decide. Either I could be an unreliable witness for the defence, or I could try my best to keep you out of prison as your solicitor."
She looked at him, pleading for understanding. "My testimony on the day we were captured would be worthless and they would probably say the same about the Phoenix Potion you gave me. And I could not ask you what you prefer."
Colour crept into her cheeks. "And if I had chosen to stand as witness, I would not have been able to see you."
Draco's pulse jumped up to a rapid speed. He could not rein his emotions in any longer. "You wanted to see me?"
His voice sounded strange in his ears, filled with his raw need.
Their eyes locked.
"Prudy said your engaged. You're engaged to the Weasel, aren't you?"
Her eyes filled with tears. "I thought you were dead. I would have mourned what could have been all my life, but I wanted to …. "
She took a shuddering breath. "Yesterday, I told Ron, I want to postpone."
He felt like she had hit him. "Postpone?"
She lowered her head. "I told him that I want to fix the situations with my parents first. But in reality, I am just a coward."
He understood then. He had hesitated to ask Prudy to tell him the truth. A leap over the abyss might end in a fall after all.
"You're not a coward," he scoffed. "You lied to my aunt. You battled Voldemort. You …"
Before he could continue the door to his cell opened and one of the aurors led in a middle-aged man Draco did not know.
"Miss Granger, what are you doing here?" the man asked, irritation plainly written on his face.
Hermione pulled herself together very quickly. Draco almost smiled. Condescending did not go well with his girl.
"I am consulting with my client, doing my job as duty solicitor," she stated firmly. "I might as well ask you what you do here, Mr Sloane."
"As the prosecutor you are not allowed to speak to the accused unless in court. Surely you learned that in your training!", the man sneered.
"I was assigned the defence, and I am consulting with my client." Hermione's voice was clipped, no trace of her emotions from earlier detectable.
"Prewett just gave me the defence," the other man said.
"He gave me the defence this morning. When I registered in August, I gave 'defence' as my preference."
The man had the audacity to roll his eyes. "Prewett wanted you to do the prosecution. Why would you of all people, muggleborn extraordinaire, want to defend a death eater?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Because under wizarding law, everyone has a right to be defended."
"Well, I'll care for the defence for this sorry excuse of a wizard then…. If he can be even called a wizard." Sloane regarded Draco with disdain, as if he were a cockroach that had dared to come to the light.
Hermione crossed her arms in front of her. "Then, Mr Sloane, I am sorry to inform you, that you are too late. I have already consulted with my client and we have agreed on the verdict we are trying to aim at. You can't just take over my case."
"And pray what verdict is that? Are you going for guilty and a shorter sentence for full cooperation and turning himself in? Good luck with that."
Hermione's eyes flashed. "You are not entitled to get an answer to that. I will not disclose my angle to you. And since you are obviously not doing the defence you shouldn't even be here."
Mr Sloane did not receive this answer with grace. "Ms Granger, you think that scoring the highest grades for decades in your lawyer's degree is the equivalent to thirty years of courtroom experience."
He snorted. "You might be the minister's pet and Harry Potter's friend but that means nothing in the courtroom. It will be my pleasure to see you and your praised intellect being cut down some notches when you are confronted with the realities of a trial. No law theory paper will help you there."
He made to leave and turned at the door, giving her a false smile, and ignoring Draco altogether. "I think I will see myself to that. I guess the job of the prosecution on the Draco Malfoy trial is still open, after all."
When he had slammed the door, Hermione let herself fall into her chair again. Her lips trembled. She wiped her eyes angrily.
Draco wondered, if her tears were due to her anger or to the fact that she had just had a taste of the crooked wizarding law system. Draco knew all about it. His father had taken advantage often enough.
He mustered his courage, brought his own chair close to her and clumsily tried to dry her cheeks with his cuffed hands.
"Hey, there…. You'll wipe the courtroom floor with his arse, won't you?"
"Prewett told me that it would be an easy win, the first of a hopefully long career. His question about my bias was not about being biased in your favour…. They already decided that this will end with you in prison, didn't they?"
She banged her fist on the table. "What did we fight for, if nothing changed? The ministry is still corrupt and prejudiced and…. This should be about justice, not about revenge."
Draco took her fist in his hands, and untangled it, stroking each of her fingers.
"You know, Granger, I can see how they thought you would be biased against me. It must be common knowledge that we didn't get along in school. Have you even told anybody about us, I mean, you told Potter and the Weasel about how I cast the scutum on you, but otherwise?"
She shook her head. "I've never told anybody. I…. It is not that I was ashamed, but I didn't think anybody would believe me…. And then I thought you were dead."
He smiled at her. "Might I suggest a Slytherin approach then? Play the valiant defender of justice, even if it means defending your school enemy, play the 'I collect any evidence in favour of my client' lawyer, play the 'I am going to bend the courtroom to my will, no matter the cost' solicitor."
He kissed the knuckles of her hand. "And this, us, the night in the hospital wing, I do not remember clearly, our kisses in the Room of Hidden things, they stay between us. And what we make of it, we'll decide after the trial."