“Now we will survive!” This is what the frightened, twelve-years-old boy liked to say, as he wobbled along the quiet roadside, or through the empty fields, side by side with his grandmother. But the freedom that he saw was only in his imagination and he would never set foot on Hogwarts’ grounds until his untimely death. Voldemort had reached power only a few months prior to his parents’ disappearance, victims of a heartless campaign of wrongful imprisonments that started an era of mass killing.
“They asked for my wedding ring, which I….” The ministry officer broke off his diary just before he was executed by a high ranking Death Eater in late August of 1997. He was one of about two thousand non-british citizens killed by Voldemort’s troops at the beginning of the Second Wizard War.
Late in 1997, an eleven-year-old slytherin student finished her own diary: “Only my sister, Allison, is left.” Severus Snape had assumed the role of Principal, her school was under the Dark Lord’s control, and her family were among the two hundred magic users who had been accused of treason and sent to an unknown location, and were most likely dead. “We were allowed to stay because we are Slytherins and they need students to support their cause. Sometimes, I wish they had taken me as well but I have to be strong. I have to keep my hopes up. Alli needs me. I can’t leave her as well.”
“I will meet her,” said a young auror of her wife to their superior, “under the ground.” She was right; the auror was killed after she was, and they were buried among the almost three hundred victims of Voldemort’s attacks to establishments owned by known muggleborn or half-blood magic users.
The following spring, a sixteen-year-old gryffindor wrote a last letter to her parents: “I am saying goodbye to you before I die. I am so afraid of this death but I am one of the oldest in my house and I have to protect the younger students. I must be brave and be ready to fight for them, to die for them. I love you and I will always be thinking of you.” She was among the more than three hundred people injured or killed during the Hogwarts battle.
All in all, the “purification” of the armed forces, state institutions, and the government led to about three thousand executions. Voldemort’s forces handled dozens of cases at a time, at a pace of fifty per hour or more when confronted with large groups; the life or death of an individual human was decided in a minute or less. At the minor suspicion that said individual could be helping or in support of Harry Potter in any way, shape or form, their sentence was declared without a second thought.
Harry was still in shock as he stared down at his untied shoes. The laces were neglected and laid across the wet ground haphazardly, but Harry couldn't find the will to tie them.
When Kingsley asked him to attend the court hearings, in order to help catch Voldemort's supporters, he knew it wouldn't be easy. Everyone in the room would be under the effect of Veritaserum and, as such, cruel and indiscritable things would be said during the trials; he would be required to weight in on the future, the life and death of hundreds of people he didn’t know. He knew this and yet, after four long hours of reviewing all the information they had collected from the last set of trials, Harry couldn’t help but to feel sick.
His mind was empty, yet noisy and uncooperative at the same time. Still, he had to focus despite the difficulty. If he wasn't careful, his emotions could trigger an eruption of magic he had no hopes of controlling. Especially not after becoming the Master of Death.
Kingsley, (‘It’s Prime Minister now’, Harry reminded himself) followed him outside soon after. It was oddly sunny and the young boy couldn’t help but to think he should be at home, with Teddy, or taking him to the park.
“Are you alright, Harry?” Harry saw the older man's smile faltered slightly and he reached his hand up to rub the back of his neck.
“Yes, Sir. Just tired.”
“None of that, my boy. You can still call me Kingsley.” Harry slowly nodded, not knowing what else to do and the other man sighed at this. “Unless you prefer I start calling you Lord Potter-Black of the Noble and Most Ancient H-”
“No! No, Harry’s just fine, Mr- Kingsley”, the boy is quick to add, slightly shaking his head, and Kingsley smirks to himself in clear satisfaction.
The older man stood next to him, letting Harry collect himself for a moment. He was still feeling shaken up from all he had heard.
“Come on, son,” Kingsley said, once he’d had enough of the teenager’s brooding. Harry had more of a right to brood than most kids his age, but the newly appointed Minister of Magic did have a job to do and this was starting to waste time.
“Of course, I was just thinking…”, he shook his head. There was no point in wasting other people’s time with this.
“Is something bothering you, Harry? Maybe something that was said during the hearings?”
“No.” Kingsley looked at Harry. The boy had gone from carefully motionless to lightning-fast anger so strong it almost made Kingsley back down. Almost. Harry looked like a beast ready to pounce. His hackles raised and teeth bared. His body was in a near-perfect boxer’s stance and Kingsley idly wondered if it was a reflex from his auror training or from while he was running from You-Know-Who. However, that was another question for another time. A time when Harry didn’t look ready to claw his way out of a corner.
“It’s alright, Harry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” the man reminded him, forcing his voice to remain calm.
There was only silence between them, the only sounds were two women standing a few feet from them, chatting about work. After what felt like hours, but was probably only a minute, Harry sighed once again.
“I was just-. What was this all for? We fought, we survived, we buried the dead and punished the guilty and now what? What do we take from this?”
“That’s… A very good question, Harry.” The man found himself turning towards Harry, without even knowing he had done it. He gently laid his hand on Harry’s shoulder and, even though he had anticipated the emptiness in the boy’s eyes, it didn’t make it less heartbreaking. Being eye to eye with the boy showed Kingsley the true look of despair in those green eyes that quickly turned hard. This was an entirely different Harry than he had seen before. There was hurt-fueled anger deep in those eyes that looked more like they belonged to a Senior Auror, broken from a life of fighting, than a twenty-years-old boy. By Merlin’s beard, in some parts of the muggle world he couldn’t even drink yet!
“I suppose… Since life gives meaning to death, rather than the other way around, the important question is not ‘what political, intellectual, sociological, or psychological closure can be drawn from war?’. No. Closure is a sweet lie but a lie nonetheless. The important question is ‘how could, how can so many human lives be brought to such a violent end?’, don’t you think?”, the older man kept a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder and made sure it stayed just that, gentle. He was well aware they were on a precipice here. One mistake and Harry could disappear into a stone cold mask again, just like he had been doing since the war began. It was the odds of the flip of a coin, and Kingsley had never been one for betting on chance.
“I think there’s a more important question, Sir.” Harry said, after a while. “How can we make sure this doesn’t happen ever again?”
Kingsley doesn’t answer. Harry isn’t sure he would like his answer, either way.
The Malfoy Case was one of the most mediatic trials, even before Harry demanded to testify for both Narcissa and Draco Malfoy. From mind control, blackmail and even a secret relationship with Draco, the media did its best to try and justify Harry’s investment in their defence. Harry himself couldn’t properly explain it either, other than the fact that it felt right.
Lucius Malfoy was the first Malfoy to get caught and, unfortunately, the first one to die. He was cornered by French members of the International Wizarding Police after being betrayed by a fellow Death Eater, almost a year after the Hogwarts Battle. When he realised he wouldn’t be able to escape, Lucius set fire to the small house he had been hiding in, killing himself and five of the eight officers present on the scene.
Narcissa and Draco turned themselves in the same week, once Lucius’ death was confirmed by the ministry. Narcissa had been injured three months prior, during a confrontation with a former Death Eater that left her bed ridden for almost a month. Lucius had left, claiming he was going to find a healer to treat her but, as days went by, it became clear that the man had run off, leaving behind his wife and son. Once Narcissa was well enough to apparate, they slowly made their way to the Italian countryside, only to find out about Lucius’ death a few days later.
Their return to England was… unconventional. The last two standing Malfoys apparated into the Ministry of Magic, looking as powerful and regal as always, and politely requested to talk to a Head Auror in order to ‘discuss the charges raised against them’. The poor ministry worker who first saw them, Ms. Snyder, fainted right where she stood, but not before triggering the emergency alarm.
In a matter of seconds, the building was evacuated and a group of twenty Senior Aurors cornered Narcissa and Draco, who looked frankly unimpressed with the whole ordeal.
When questioned why they had decided to return, neither one of them had a proper answer. Both claimed they were tired of running, of hiding; they wanted to face their charges and punishment, whatever that might be. Lucius’ death had also been an important factor; realising that the man had pressured them to join Voldemort, only to abandon them in their time of need, was a wake up call for both of them.
In the end, the Malfoys were separated and incarcerated while they waited for their first hearing.
Then Harry was informed of their capture.
By then, he had been part of over a hundred trials, either as a witness, as part of the prosecution team or simply as a legal counsel, despite the fact that Harry didn’t feel like he had enough training nor experience to take on such a role.
The Malfoy trial was long, spanning over the course of three months and many, many hearings. The fact that Lucius had been previously accused of working for Voldermort and had managed to get away with it was very much present on everyone’s mind and, had it not been for Kingsley himself, the Council would’ve sentenced both Malfoys to death within the first two minutes.
When Narcissa became ill a few days into her incarceration and had to be taken to St. Mungus to get proper treatment, the Council proceeded with Draco’s trial.
This time, Draco looked like he was on the brink of death. His usually pale face was now grey and lifeless; his hair was matted and messy, nothing like the perfectly styled look he used to sport before the war. He had also lost weight and his skin looked overly stretched over his pointy cheekbones. But most strikingly, for the first time ever, Draco didn’t carry the Malfoy crest in his robes.
Draco remained quiet for most of the first hearing, allowing his solicitor to do most of the talking. Harry wondered idly how the man was being paid at all, given that all of Malfoy’s vaults had been seized by the ministry right after the war ended but, in the end, it didn’t matter much.
The two following hearings, only a few days later, were just as difficult. The prosecution was clearly enraged that Lucius had effectively escaped twice and had managed to kill several aurors while doing so and seemed hellbent on punishing Draco for it. They urged him to testify, despite his solicitor’s complaints, and, on the fourth hearing, Draco finally relented.
His testimony wasn’t particularly helpful. Between one word answers and mindless truth serum-induced blabbing, Draco’s role in the war didn’t seem particularly innocent. It most definitely didn’t help that he had the bloody Death Eater mark on his arm, something the prosecution had insisted to be on display at all times.
Narcissa was not allowed to testify in Draco’s favour. She had barely been allowed in the courtroom at all and, when she was finally allowed to be present, she was kept in the other side of the room, out of Draco’s sight, unless he were to turn around completely (which he hadn't been allowed).
Finally, after many hearings and a lot of poking and prodding, Harry was allowed to testify.
His announcement caused a wave of loud whispers and, for a brief moment, Harry had expected someone to rise up and stop him.
All eyes in the room were locked on him, clearly waiting for him to either dismiss the call with his usual “I am not acquainted with the accused and it would be irrational for me to make any suggestions of the case” or to side against the Malfoys entirely and openly plea for them to be sent to Azkaban as soon as possible. As he walked towards the centre of the room, his eyes locked with Narcissa’s and, for the first time, she looked defeated. Afraid even.
“Draco Malfoy doesn’t deserve to spend time in Azkaban.”
Like an overtopped dam, Harry couldn’t stop himself from going over the six years he spent with Draco at Hogwarts. He recalled the nerve racking hours spent at Malfoy Manor and how Draco’s hesitation saved his life. For some reason, there had never been a single shred of doubt in Harry’s mind that Draco had chosen to lie to his father. After all, they had known each other for over five years; they had sat side by side in classes, they had duelled each other. If there was someone, anyone in the world who could see through Harry’s shitty disguises it would be Draco, especially with Voldemort and his father breathing down his neck.
But he hadn’t. His hesitation and, later on, Narcissa’s bold lie had led to Voldemort’s death and Harry’s survival. For that, Draco deserved a second chance.
The whispers of confusion and surprise turned into full blown screeches with several people accusing Harry of being under mind control or of being an imposter, despite the fact that everyone in the room had been forced to drink a truth serum and that they had seen Harry’s memories just a few moments before.
The Chief Warlock announced a break so that Harry’s testimony could be analysed properly and dismissed everyone until the next morning.
“You shouldn’t go tomorrow, Harry dear”, Mrs. Weasley advised as she prepared dinner.
Harry had gone to the Burrow to tell Ron and Hermione about what had happened, hopefully before they found out from the newspapers or, Merlin forbid, the town’s gossipers, but he had been cornered by the whole Weasley family instead.
“I have to. They might need to ask me some more questions.” He tried to reason, to tell them and himself that he was just doing his part like he had done with all the previous trials. The excuses fell flat even to his ears.
“What else is there to question? Malfoy was a Death Eater, he tried to kill Dumbledore, he tried to kill you, Harry!” Ginny insisted. Behind her, Mr. and Mrs. Molly were shaking their heads in the same way they did when Harry was being 'too kind, too mature for his age'.
For some reason, the ordinary gesture that once reminded Harry that he still had some manners in him, now filled his stomach with fire and threatened to spill over.
“Malfoy is a git but he doesn’t deserve to be punished for something he was forced to do.”
“Harry dear-”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Weasley, I know what I’m doing.”
He stormed out of the house and aparated back to Grimmauld 12 before anyone could run after him. He raised the house wards so no one could get in and sent Miss Carter, Teddy's nanny, home for the day.
Later in the afternoon, Elladora, Hermione's owl, showed up at his kitchen window and Harry pondered sending her away immediately. However, not only was the owl extremely stubborn, but that would also alert Hermione that he was more upset than usual and she would probably force her way into the house.
He removed the small piece of parchment from Elladora's right paw and allowed her to rest and drink some water while he read Hermione's note.
'Dear Harry,
We're so sorry you were cornered like this. While we don't completely understand your reasons, we also think that Azkaban is a bit too much for someone like Malfoy.
Please know we are so very proud of you for all your work with the Council and the Aurors. We'll do our best to dissuade Ginny and the rest from showing up at Grimmauld 12th tomorrow morning.
Please be safe and give Teddy our love,
Ron and Hermione.'
He scribbled a quick answer, just to let them know that he was okay and that he appreciated their support before sending Elladora back.
Time after that goes by strangely. Dinner and even Teddy's bedtime come and go but as soon as Harry laid down in his own bed, the clock seemed to slow down.
He tries all the tricks in the book to get his mind to calm down but nothing seems to help. Eventually he trades his bed for the rocking chair in Teddy's room and watches as the small boy sleeps the night away. Somehow, in between Teddy's soft snores and the rolling thunder inside his head, Harry falls asleep.
The courtroom is impossibly full.
It's time for the final verdict and, for the first time throughout the whole process, journalists are allowed to be present. In the back, some Senior Aurors and even regular ministry workers start to settle down as well.
Harry is sitting across the Malfoys this time, next to the jury and the prosecution team. Usually the two crowds don't get mixed but the amount of people present in the room led to a nonsensical alteration in the seating chart. He hopes he won't have to look into Draco's eyes as he's sentenced to Azkaban.
The trial starts slowly with all the right people and prior testimonies being listed and accounted for. The whole process is far too boring and Harry's attention keeps going back to Draco. Draco's tired expression as he stares to his lap. Draco's damaged hair that has grown past his shoulders now and is hanging in front of his eyes. Draco's rumpled outfit, barren of the Malfoy crest or any other indication of his wealthy upbringing.
"It's time…" someone behind him whispers, pulling him back to the present.
He looks up to see an old witch dressed in grey silky robes stand up from her seat. Her eyes scan over the crowd before briefly crossing Harry's and, for a moment, Harry braces himself for the highly unpleasant feeling of having his mind poked at. The feeling never comes and the witch turns to the Chief Warlock.
"Your honor, Chief Warlock, the Council has made a decision."
Boris McPhee, an old, angry looking man who reminded Harry of Uncle Vernon, gestured in her general direction, prompting her to continue. A witch two seats from Harry cursed his manners under her breath and Harry found himself agreeing with her.
"The Council has found the accused, Draco Lucius Malfoy, innocent of all charges."
The reaction was immediate.
Hundreds of voices screaming both in anger and surprise and, had it not been for the silencing charm casted in the room, the witch's voice would have been lost in the crowd. Despite the lack of noise, the commotion was enough for the Chief Warlock to threaten to throw everyone out if all 'indecent behaviour didn't stop immediately'.
"Due to the accused's age at the time of the events and the fact that the accused was coerced into joining the Dark Lord's army by his own legal guardians, the Council sees no reason to further punish Draco Lucius Malfoy."
"Very well."
The witch sits back down and the Chief Warlock turns towards Malfoy himself. His head is no longer hanging low but he isn't quite looking ahead either. Next to him, his solicitor whispers to Narcissa who was allowed to sit closer to her son for the final verdict. They seem more hopeful than they've been in weeks and Harry has to stop himself from getting his own hopes up. The Council may have found Draco innocent but that doesn't mean the Chief Wizard will and his decision matters the most.
"Mr. Draco Malfoy is the prime example of what war and hatred do to our future generations. His actions as a child were misguided by hateful individuals who wished for power above all. It is in our country's best interest to try and reform the youth we lost to the Dark side. For that, Mr. Malfoy will be integrated in a reeducation program; his magic will be partially binded and his wand will be confiscated during this time. If he shows genuine improvement, Mr. Malfoy will slowly be allowed more freedom. This process will have a duration of ten years and any deviation from the program's guideline will result in immediate incarceration in Azkaban. Mr. Malfoy will also be assigned a handler to ensure that everything is going smoothly."
The decision seems to catch everyone by surprise, including the Malfoys. Binding someone's magic is a risky process and not very common at all but it's definitely better than going to Azkaban.
The Chief Warlock thanks the Council members and the jury for being present and dismisses them, before leaving the room shortly after.
Draco and his team are escorted out and, for a brief moment, Harry thinks about following them. As he rises from his seat, an older Auror he vaguely recognizes approaches him.
"Lord Potter, your presence has been requested by the Prime Minister." He's whispering but that doesn't seem to stop a couple wizards from staring at them. Harry sends them an unimpressed glare and they turn around to leave in the same instant.
"Right now?"
"I'm afraid so."
'Merlin's balls. Can't a man have a moment of peace?'
"Alright, let's see what the man wants then."
On their way out they briefly cross the Malfoys who, despite all the safety guidelines and procedures, are just standing in the middle of a small hallway, holding onto each other. Narcissa whispers something into Draco's ear as she brushes his hair back and Draco nuzzles further into her neck. It's oddly domestic and soft and Harry can't help but to feel like he's breaching their privacy.
He tries to ignore the scene but Narcissa catches his eyes as he walks past them. She doesn't speak, doesn't do anything to indicate that she saw him but her crystal clear voice in his head thanking him for saving Draco is more than enough to make his heart race.
He turns to answer her but she gives him a small smile and turns her back to him as a group of Aurors approaches them.
Harry turns back around and rushes towards Kingsley's office. There's nothing else left for him to do.