Unlikely || George Weasley

Chapter 16 - The Verdict

{I had such a block with this chapter! But - 'tis done. And I've already half written the next three, so updates should be more regular from now on. Thanks for your patience and feedback.

Keep commenting! I love hearing what you guys think.}

Harry spoke in a carrying, clear voice. George saw quills racing across notebooks and was grateful that no photographers were allowed in the chamber during trials. He could already picture the morning edition of the Daily Prophet - they were going to have a field day with this.

"Mr Potter," Ogden turned around in his seat and appraised him coolly, "this is most... irregular."

McShane leant across and whispered into his ear, and Ogden nodded, murmuring back. The Head Auror retreated back into his seat, and Ogden shuffled his papers before returning his attention to Harry.

"In this case – although distinctly late – the council will accept your testimony. Please, come down."

George watched Harry squeeze past Ron and make his way down the auditorium, standing before the pensive with his back to the Malfoys. He looked unshaken and unfazed, his calculated decision rippling with consequences like a stone skimming the surface of a pond. The whispering and mutterings of the court finally faded as Harry cleared his mouth and spoke.

"I cannot and will not dispute Narcissa or Draco Malfoy's actions over the years." Harry looked around at the faces staring back at him, hooked on his every word. "There is no doubt whatsoever that they have both done terrible, awful things. Of many crimes, they are undeniably guilty. But Narcissa Malfoy was not a Death Eater. Draco was – was roped in to a war at the age of 16. Still just a kid."

A pause.

"I would like to give evidence from the night Lord Voldemort fell. The night Tom Riddle died."

He couldn't help it; George still flinched at the name.

Ogden kept his beady eyes on Harry. "And what evidence would this be, Mr Potter?"

Harry drew his wand and pressed it against his temple. The shimmering, silvery substance of a memory drifted outwards, and he led it down onto the surface of the pensive.

Draco stared straight ahead, tears forming in his cloudy grey eyes.

"Narcissa Malfoy could have betrayed me. She could have told Voldemort –" the room collectively shuddered again – "that I was still alive. At my weakest, he would have really killed me then – but she didn't. She lied and saved me. Yes, it was arguably to save her own son," Harry paused and looked behind him at the pale face of Draco Malfoy, "but I know how much a mother's love means. And I still thank her for it."

The faintest crease of a scowl formed in the middle of Ogden's brow. He flicked his wrist and Harry's memory projected up into the air, suspended high for everyone to see.

George watched in horror as, from Harry's perspective, he faced Voldemort and all of his surrounding Death Eaters alone in the forest. Hagrid, tethered, bellowed out and was silenced. Voldemort's voice – that high, cutting tone that caused George's stomach to drop – taunted him, ridiculed him.

Harry raised no defence as the flash of blinding green light came towards him.

The memory went dark. But then –

"Is he alive? Is Draco still alive?" Narcissa's voice echoed throughout the chamber as she murmured into Harry's ear, barely audible.

Yes.

Her voice called out, farther away than before. "He is dead."

The Death Eaters laughed, and the memory swirled in on itself, fading away.