Quidditch League: Reserve League - Season 2, Round 10
Position: Chaser 3
Additional prompts:
(word) onwards
(word) ghost
(word) specialty
Draco's Trial
The letter came on an otherwise peaceful summer day. The owl that delivered it had a cuff on its leg with the M.O.M symbol engraved on it.
Draco clenched his teeth. The Ministry. Great. Just what I want. He had been worried that this was going to happen at some point, but he had begun hoping that maybe, somehow, he had slipped under the radar. How foolish his hopes had been, after his participation in the war and the crimes he had committed and been a witness to. He wrenched the letter out of the owl's grasp.
Dear Mr. Draco Malfoy,
Given your status as a Death Eater, you are scheduled to come in for a trial on June 5th. Absolutely no exceptions. We will send a Ministry escort to Malfoy Manor at 7:00 A.M. Any failure to comply with them will result in the utmost consequences.
Signed,
Ackerly Fiddlewood
Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Draco groaned and crumbled up the letter in his trembling hands. How could they do this? That's my Birthday! He angrily threw the letter on the table and stormed off to his room.
"Draco?" Narcissa called. Draco sat up on his bed.
What time is it? "Mother?" He called back.
Narcissa pushed open the door. She held out a piece of paper. It was the letter he had gotten earlier. "Hey," Narcissa said. "I found this… letter from the Ministry."
Draco sighed and buried his face in his hands.
"Do you want to talk?"
Draco shook his head. "It's just…. I don't know."
"You don't know what?"
"What I'm going to do!"
"Draco, you can only wait until the trial and see what happens," Narcissa said. "But whatever happens, it can't be any worse than Lucius's trial."
"I guess you're right," Draco said. He was just worried he was going to screw something up. Like I always do….
"And I'm sorry. I know it's on your birthday, too."
On June 5th, Draco got up at 6:30 and got dressed. Happy birthday to me…. He thought as he straightened out his tie, looking in the mirror. He tried blinking the sleep out of his eyes, but there were still marks underneath. This'll just have to do.
He walked downstairs to wait for the Ministry's arrival. He really didn't feel like eating anything this morning. His stomach churned with anxiety. He just paced in a circle near the entryway until he heard a sudden loud knock on the door. He jumped at the noise, then turned around. Taking a deep breath, he stepped toward the door and opened it.
"Greetings, Mr. Malfoy," a tall man with black hair said stiffly. "We'll be escorting you to the Ministry for your Death Eater trial." He held out his hand, and Draco hesitantly took it. Before he knew it, he was being apparated. It felt like his body was being pulled apart.
A second later, they had arrived in the Ministry's atrium. Draco felt dizzy and was trying not to throw up. He hadn't really had much of a chance to learn how to apparate on his own or get used to side-along apparition. The Ministry had placed him under house arrest as soon as the war had ended. This was the first time since then he had been out, and even now it was only for a trial.
Draco didn't know what to expect from the court. His father's trial had been earlier, and they had ruled that he was sentenced to community service – Muggle community service. Egch! Muggles! Draco shuddered at the thought. It couldn't get worse than that – well – except for being sent to Azkaban.
Draco was escorted down the dark corridors of the Ministry until they had reached the security desk.
"Wands, please," a woman at the desk instructed. The black-haired man handed her his wand. She inspected it quickly then handed it back to him. She looked at Draco as the man turned to him. "And yours?" she snapped.
Draco felt heat suddenly rush to his cheeks. "I… don't have one."
"What do you mean you don't have one?" The man asked.
"It was taken… during the war."
The man shrugged, "Whatever, I guess, you're still being tried one way or another."
They continued onwards to a pair of golden gates. As they passed through them into a smaller hall, Draco could see a bunch of lifts all behind their own golden grilles. The man dragged Draco onto one of them, and the lift descended into darkness.
The lift would stop every-so-often to announce the level they were currently at and what offices were on that level. A few people had gotten on the lift since it had first begun its descent. Draco noticed them throwing him disgusted looks, but he looked away and tried not to pay any attention.
Finally, as the lift made a few more stops, the only people left on the lift were Draco and the man escorting him.
The lift suddenly made one last harsh stop, and Draco was pushed out of the lift by his escort. They made their way down a dark stony staircase and into a courtroom that was chalk-full of people, no doubt all awaiting eagerly for the outcome of his trial. Draco gulped, then straightened himself. He couldn't let them see his fear. He strutted forward and sat in the chair in the middle of the room, and looked up to face the Wisengamot.
The chains on the chair suddenly clanked and enwrapped his wrists. His breath caught in his throat at the pain the chains caused. He was now rooted to his seat, with no way of escape – not that he could've escaped anyway, underneath the watchful eyes of the Wizengamot and all the aurors standing by.
The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, eyed him reproachfully. He cleared his throat. "We will now begin with the trial of Draco Malfoy," Shacklebolt said. "On this day, June 5th, 1998, being tried for crimes as a Death Eater, Draco Malfoy, resident of Malfoy Manor, Whiltshire, England."
Draco felt the sweat drip from his face. Don't let them see any fear. He put his occlumency into effect, trying to just let a sense of calm wash over him.
"Interrogators: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic, and Ackerly Fiddlewood, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." Fiddlewood had light brown hair and wore glasses. "The charges are as follows," Shacklebolt went on. "You were a Death Eater, attempted to murder Albus Dumbledore – once, with a cursed necklace that harmed – and nearly killed – another student – and again, with a bottle of poisoned mead, which, once again, nearly killed another student. You put the bartender of The Three Broomsticks under the imperius curse for nearly the whole school year, and you let Death Eaters into the school through a Vanishing Cabinet." He paused. "Do you wish to deny that you did any of this?"
Draco's face turned white as a ghost. "No, sir…." How much trouble would he be in? It couldn't possibly be that bad, could it? His father had only gotten community service for all he had done, but Draco also didn't know his father's tricks to getting out of trouble. It was a Malfoy's specialty to wiggle out of trouble time and time again, but Draco, truthfully, wasn't certain how he should go about this.
"Fiddlewood, what are your thoughts on the matter?" Shacklebolt spoke again.
"Ah, yes, Mr. Malfoy was a Death Eater, but what were all the circumstances behind this? After all, he was only sixteen when he joined, wasn't he?" He looked toward Draco.
Draco nodded. "Yes, I was sixteen."
"Did you willingly join, then?" Shacklebolt asked.
The question stumped him. Draco's stomach tied itself in knots. He couldn't bring his mouth to form an answer.
"I…." His heart rate sped up rapidly. He breathed a deep breath and tried calming himself. "The Dark Lord wanted me to join. At the time, I didn't realize it, but he was using me as a means of punishing my father for his failure." Draco left out the part about how he did technically willingly join, oblivious to the circumstances that were going on around him.
Draco was still using occlumency to shield his thoughts, so hopefully they wouldn't figure him out.
"Yes, well, I'm going to have to discuss this with Fiddlewood," Kingsley said. "We'll give you our final decision in a few minutes." Draco felt like he couldn't breathe. He was suddenly once again aware of the chains constricting his wrists. He felt painfully aware of all the eyes in the room on him, even though he couldn't turn to see them.
The room was awkwardly silent. Someone coughed, and another person sneezed. Here and there, Draco heard whispers….
Shacklebolt and Fiddlewood once again returned to the scene. Shacklebolt cleared his throat. "We have made our decision about what should be the consequences of Mr. Malfoys actions." Draco bit his lip. Shacklebolt focused his eyes on him. "As I understand, you don't currently have a wand, and we've decided that, until further notice, you won't have the option to get a new one."
Draco's heart caught in his throat. He hadn't even considered that. No wand…. He didn't know how he was going to survive – being reduced to a Muggle.
"And, as for apparition, if you're able to perform it wandless, we've laid out only certain spots that you can go to and from. Your home at Malfoy Manor is one of them. Any questions."
Draco swallowed hard, then shook his head. "No… sir…."
"Good, now we will escort you back to Malfoy Manor, where you need to stay for at least the rest of the day."
Draco trudged through the mud and went into the manor. Closing the door behind him, he breathed out a heavy sigh. He didn't know how he was going to do this – living as if he was a Muggle… for who knew how long. He could try learning wandless apparition, but he didn't feel like doing anything for a while. He sunk into a couch, feeling a sense of hopelessness wash over him. This was one of the worst birthdays he had ever had.