Summary:
Harry, perhaps against his better judgement, speaks at the Malfoy trials.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief as the heavy oak door to the Wizengamot courtroom shut, muffling the chaotic shouts of reporters outside. Court room ten hadn't changed all that much since Harry's own trial, back in his fifth year. It hadn't even been three years ago, but it felt like a whole other life time since Harry had sat in the centre of this room and stared up at the Wizengamot, certain that he was going to be expelled from Hogwarts for protecting himself and Dudley from a (seemingly) rogue Dementor.
'Speaking of Dementors,' Harry thought to himself as he scanned the chamber. There were two at the far end of the room, one stationed on either side of the second oak door. Harry could feel the cold they generated spilling across the space, and noticed with a grim smile that the seats nearest the door had been left empty, no one wanting to sit near the horrible creatures. He continued to cast an eye over the room and soon found a familiar riot of curls two rows from the front – Hermione caught his eye and waved him over.
The court room was largely unaltered, but Harry had certainly changed from the knobbly kneed fifteen-year-old he had been the last time he had visited this particular area of the Ministry. His emerald green eyes were direct and serious, the mature gaze made even sharper by the contrast it created with his still youthful face. Voldemort had been dead and gone for over a month, and Harry had so far managed to avoid involving himself in the reestablishment of the Ministry of Magic, despite the large outcry from the Wizarding public for him to do so. In fact, Harry mused as he walked purposefully towards the seat Hermione had saved him, he was quite sure that if it was not for his own – frankly irritating – sense of justice and honour, he would never have returned to this part of the Ministry at all.
"Harry, good, you're here" Hermione greeted, pulling him into a quick hug. "They're about to start."
"Do we know who's working on defence?" Harry asked as he sat down beside his friend, and Hermione shook her head, long brown curls swaying with the movement.
"I've haven't heard anything; I suspect they've had to bring someone in from abroad. No lawyer in the country would take their case – everyone is too afraid to be linked to people they shouldn't be. It's a disgrace, the way the Ministry is handling everything."
Harry didn't have time to answer – the door at the far end of the room had opened, and three people in shackles were escorted into the room.
Despite knowing whose trial he was at, Harry almost didn't recognise Draco Malfoy – his once platinum blonde hair fell dirty and lank, and though he had always been slender, he was now gaunt and rake thin. Hermione gasped beside him, and Harry had to agree – the young man before them was barely recognisable as the arrogant prat that had antagonised them through their school years.
With an almost sick feeling in his stomach, Harry dragged his eyes from the youngest Malfoy and looked at Lucius and Narcissa – they, too, were very obviously worse for wear, with dark circles under their eyes and their once fine clothes hanging from skeletal frames. The family had been captured just over two weeks before, but even that time in Azkaban had clearly brought the once proud family to their limit.
As Harry had watched, all three Malfoys were chained to the chairs in the centre of the room, and the crowd slowly quieted, waiting for the trials to begin. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Acting Minister, was presiding over the hearing, and as silence fell he stood and looked down at the prisoners.
"Disciplinary hearings of the twenty-fourth of June, 1998," said Kingsley clearly, his deep voice cutting through the room with ease. "We of the Wizengamot are here today to preside over the trials of the following: Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, resident at Malfoy Manor, Whiltshire, England. His wife, Narcissa Irma Malfoy (née Black), resident at Malfoy Manor, Whiltshire, England. Their son, Draco Lucius Malfoy, resident at Malfoy Manor, Whiltshire, England, and also of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland. The defendants have provided no person to head their defence, and so the court will be directing the questioning to each defendant individually during their separate trials." Kingsley paused and continued, a touch of warning colouring his voice. "I would remind the court that leading the defendants to incriminate members of their family outside of their own trials is strictly prohibited, particularly if Veritaserum is in use. Read the charges."
Kingsley then nodded at someone to his left, who stood up, shuffling some papers.
"The charges are as follows," Percy Weasley read out, his horn-rimmed glasses glinting coldly in the dim light of the court room.
"Lucius Malfoy, as a Marked Death Eater and member of You-Know-Who's inner circle, you are hereby charged with high treason against the Magical world. You are also charged with the following criminal acts: breaking and entering into the Ministry of Magic, for which you have been previously charged and sentenced. Escape from Azkaban prison. The abduction and imprisonment of the wand maker, Garrick Ollivander. The kidnapping and imprisonment of a minor, Luna Lovegood. And, finally, earlier this month, on the 6th of June, you forcibly resisted arrest and purposely injured Auror John Dawlish, who has only yesterday been released from St Mungos with his arm regrown. You will recall," Percy added with no small amount of relish, "that your wand was snapped immediately upon your capture, for the safety of government employees and to ensure your continued incarceration."
The trial for Lucius didn't take long at all, as he plead guilty to everything. The ruling of life imprisonment was soon reached, and Percy peered coldly over his glasses at the elder Malfoy as he read the verdict. "You would do well to remember," Percy added, "that the Ultimate Judgement has not been decided upon, only on the basis that there are no witnesses and so no evidence of your ever casting an Unforgiveable Curse. Or at least, there are no living witnesses."
"That's enough, Weasley!" Kingsley snapped as the court murmured, mostly – from what Harry could tell – in agreement with Percy's comment. Harry couldn't help but agree, himself. But even so – he wasn't sure he'd wish a lifetime of Azkaban on even his worst enemy – and there was no denying that Lucius Malfoy certainly fell under that category.
But Harry had seen what Azkaban had done to Sirius – how it had made him angry, and scared. How the darks of his eyes never quite shone like they did in old photos, how he couldn't meet anyone's eye for longer than a few seconds. And then, of course, there were the nightmares – Grimmauld Place was a large house, but it was old and the walls were thin. No one in the Order had ever mentioned the screams and whimpers coming from Sirius' room, but the nightmares were visceral enough for the rest of the house to know exactly what tortured the ex-prisoner's sleep.
Harry was pulled out of his thoughts by Hermione nudging him in the side.
"Harry, get ready, they'll ask for witnesses soon."
They had already moved onto Narcissa Malfoy's sentencing – Harry had missed the charges while thinking about his Godfather. It was a good thing Hermione had decided to come with him, he might have sat through the trial without even attempting what he had come to do – for this was the reason he was here. 'Well, one of the reasons, anyway,' Harry thought as Kingsley asked if anyone would speak on behalf of Mrs Malfoy.
Harry stood, ignoring the mutters that immediately started up.
"I would like to speak on behalf of Narcissa Malfoy."
Two grubby blonde heads jerked up at his voice, but Harry kept his gaze evenly on Shaklebolt, who nodded.
"Very well – what evidence do you have for us, Mr Potter?"
"Mrs Malfoy is not a Marked Death Eater, and her actions reflect this. On the day of the Battle of Hogwarts, I confronted Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest. Mrs Malfoy was put in a position where she could have very easily handed me over to the Dark Lord. In not doing so, she went against everything that would have placed her and her family at Voldemort's right hand side – instead she asked whether or not her son Draco was alive, before lying to the Dark Lord's face and telling him – and all the Death Eaters present – that I was dead. Mrs Malfoy's actions saved my life, and I would like to ask the court to please keep this in mind as they come to a decision."
Harry sat back down and breathed a sigh of relief, smiling weakly when Hermione gave him a subtle thumbs-up. He hated speaking in public like that, but he'd been going over what he wanted to say for nearly a week now and he was pleased that he had remembered everything. All that remained was to wait out the hearing, and then he could head back home.
Three senior members of the Wizengamot had their heads together, clearly trying to come to a decision on the outcome of the hearing. One of the wizards, a plump man with hair that could rival a Weasley, nodded and the other, a feeble looking old witch with a mole above her lip that Harry could see from across the court, shrugged before nodding as well. The third, a swarthy looking man with steel grey hair and eyes, frowned at his companions, but stood and turned to the court.
"We of the Wizengamot would like to pass a vote on the verdict. We would sentence Narcissa Malfoy to four years of monitored home detention, as well as the confiscation of her wand. After two years has passed, the case would be reviewed with the possibility for Mrs Malfoy's wand to be returned to her, a condition that is dependent on acceptable behaviour. All those in favour?"
Harry held his breath as the remaining members of the Wizengamot voted – it was going to be a close thing. Hermione grabbed his arm and squeezed as she counted, before sighing in relief.
"It's in her favour. She won't go to prison."
The heaviness on Harry's chest eased a little and he sat back in his chair with a slow exhale. Well, that was something, at least. He looked down at Mrs Mafloy and found her sitting upright in her chair, her chin raised proudly and her tired eyes closed. Every so often, she would give a slight tremble. To her left, Lucius sat, his eyes staring at the floor absently. He looked nothing like the once proud man Harry remembered. Feeling uncomfortable at the sight of the so obviously defeated man, Harry shifted his gaze to the right of Mrs Malfoy as Percy read out the next lot of charges.
"Draco Malfoy, as a Marked Death Eater, you are hereby charged with treason against the Magical world. You are also charged with the following criminal acts: plotting the murder of Albus Dumbledore, three counts of attempted murder – two of which resulted in your fellow students being cursed and poisoned respectively. You did not have time to follow through in your third attempt before the Order of the Phoenix spy, Severus Snape, stepped in and killed Albus Dumbledore – on what we now know to be the Headmasters' own orders."
Harry frowned – that wasn't right. Malfoy had had plenty of time to kill Dumbledore that night on the astronomy tower. Why wasn't he correcting them?
"Furthermore," Percy continued, "You breached the Hogwarts defences and allowed Death Eaters into the castle, which resulted in a number of your fellow students and some of the Order of the Phoenix to be injured. Finally, you used the Imperius Curse on Madam Ellie Rosmerta, of Hogsmeade. As the court knows, the punishment for use of an Unforgiveable is the Ultimate Judgement. Unless of course, the defendant is pleading 'Not Guilty'?" Percy checked, glancing away from his papers to look down at the final offender.
Draco Malfoy sat primly, his shackled hands fisted on his knees and his usually cold eyes wide as they flitted around the room. He shook his head, and when he spoke his voice was cracked and dry, like he hadn't used it in months.
"No. I- I'm guilty."
Harry did his best not to flinch as the words reached him, and suddenly Malfoy's eyes landed on him, grey meeting green as they stared at each other, and the distance between them suddenly seemed impossibly strange to Harry. Here was someone he had known since he was eleven years old – the very first schoolmate that he had ever met, in fact. It seemed extraordinary to consider that, in a few seconds, Draco Malfoy would likely be condemned to Azkaban, perhaps for life. And possibly, if what Percy was leading towards went through, Azkaban would be the kinder punishment. The thought sat heavy in Harry's gut, and he found himself standing again.
"I would like to speak in Draco Malfoy's defence."
This time the court room was silent as they stared down at their young saviour.
"Harry- he's confessed. He's guilty," Hermione said, her bitter voice betraying her hatred of the situation. Harry shook her hand from his arm and continued, uncomfortably aware that every single eye in the room was on him.
"Draco Malfoy was a minor when he was forced to take the Dark Mark. He was given a choice of following Voldemort or watching his parents be tortured and killed, before he followed them. I was there that night on the Astronomy tower," at this Malfoy made an injured sort of sound, but Harry ignored him and kept speaking, his mouth running ahead of his brain in leaps and bounds.
"Malfoy had plenty of time to kill Professor Dumbledore, but when the Death Eaters arrived he was lowering his wand. He wasn't going to go through with it – he's a prat, but he's not a killer. When we were captured and taken to Malfoy Manor in March, he recognised me, but he didn't say anything, likely saving my life. Then when we were escaping, he and I fought for his wand – but he barely made an effort. He practically gave it to me, and in doing so, was one of the reasons I was able to defeat Voldemort. Draco Malfoy isn't a Death Eater; he's just a kid who got caught up in a war he didn't expect or want." Harry huffed a breath, and as he sat back down he added. "Trust me, I know. I'm one as well."
Harry glanced down at Malfoy as the voices in the room slowly started to rise again. The blonde was staring at him, his grey eyes were still full of fear, but they were also cautious and calculating. Harry nodded and the Slytherin sneered slightly, before turning to look back up at the people who would decide his fate. Harry had to stop himself grinning suddenly – it seemed Azkaban hadn't completely changed Malfoy. It was almost reassuring, in an annoying kind of way.
The three Wizengamot elders were muttering heatedly again, and after a few minutes, the old witch with the mole above her lip stood up.
"We have taken what Mr Potter has said into account, but due to the fact that he never approached anyone for help, we have decided that though Mr Malfoy was a minor, his actions were those of an adult and so he must be tried as an adult. We have, however, decided that the Ultimate Judgement is not an appropriate punishment in this particular case. We of the Wizengamot would recommend no less than thirty years imprisonment in Azkaban Prison."
There was a muffled sob from the floor below, and Narcissa Malfoy shook her head, distraught.
"Please, he's just a boy, please don't do this to him!"
Draco had gone deathly pale, and seemed close to hyperventilating. His hands were shaking in his lap, and he had closed his eyes tight, shutting out the room.
Hermione had grabbed Harry's arm yet again and was speaking quickly under her breath, her voice rushed and shrill.
"He's a minor, he was a minor, they can't do this, there's absolutely no precedent! The closest they've come to a full Wizengamot trial for an underage wizard was your trial and that was just regarding expulsion, they can't possibly sentence him to thirty years, it goes against everything in Wizarding Law, this is basically a death sentence, for God's sake! Harry look at him, he won't survive Azkaban, and they know that!"
The people in the room had started shouting at each other – some were in favour of charging Malfoy with thirty years, others seemed to want more. Only a few seemed to be following Hermione's train of thought – Harry recognised one of the witches from his own trial bellowing at a man two rows down from her, her face ruddy as she spat "He's a goddamn minor, Henderson, you absolutely idiotic baboon!"
The noise had risen to such a roar that it took a few seconds for everyone to realise that a new voice had joined the ruckus.
"He's innocent!" came the voice again, and this time everyone stopped and stared down at Lucius Malfoy, who was speaking without prompting for the first time since the trial began.
Harry had an awful theory tickling at the back of his brain, and it didn't take more than a second before the elder Malfoy confirmed it.
"I imperiused Draco. He's innocent." Lucius was shaking and his face was grey. His eyes, though, met Kingsley Shacklebolt's head on.
The acting Minister for Magic frowned. "You understand what the consequences are for casting an Unforgiveable?"
Lucius nodded, and the hush throughout the courtroom was suddenly broken by a shout as the youngest Malfoy understood just what was happening.
"Father, no!"
Lucius ignored his son, and kept his eyes level with Shacklebolt.
"I knew Draco would never join the Dark Lord under his own free will. So I cast the Imperius curse on him. I would say you can check my wand, but, well. That is, as you know, now impossible."
"Father, stop, you can't-"
Kingsley spoke over Draco, the noise in the room rising once again to a thunderous level.
"Very well. We will continue the hearing of Draco Malfoy at another date. I move to change the verdict on the case of Lucius Malfoy. All those in favour of passing the Ultimate Judgement?"
Most of the Wizengamot raise their hands and Harry felt sick. Below them, Draco was still yelling.
"No, you can't do this, no! Mother, tell them, please!"
The guards had been called forward and they approached Lucius, one of them tapping his wand to the chains that then unravelled from the chair. Hermione had a hand over her mouth in dismay as they all but dragged the elder Malfoy to the door where the two Dementors were standing guard.
"Oh God, no." she whispered in disgust.
Draco's voice had risen, shrill and horrified as he started struggling, trying desperately to rise from where he was bound to the chair. Beside him, Narcissa was crying silently, her face streaked with tears.
Lucius looked over his shoulder, his face terrified even as he called out. "I'm sorry. I love you both. I'm sorry."
"NO! FATHER!"
But the door had closed behind him, and barely a second later the temperature in the room dropped sharply, the few candles lighting the court flickered and went out. There was the sound of retching and the dulled splash of vomit hitting concrete. The occupants of the room watched through the gloom as Draco Malfoy collapsed forward in his chair and sobbed weakly, his breath rising like mist in the piercing cold.