prelude
"atrox melior dulcissima veritas mendaciis"
even the bitterest of truths is better than the sweetest of lies.
The courtroom sat silent, tension coating the throats of everyone in attendance. The trial of Draco Malfoy, the youngest Death Eater, was proceeding. Draco’s trial was a headline waiting to happen; the chaos that ensued was all but invited. Although no one would openly admit it, the Wizengamot derived a certain pleasure from the prosecution of the Malfoys; it was retribution in their eyes, reparations for those who died.
Lucius and Narcissa had already completed their trials; Narcissa had been granted a lesser sentence than most of the other Death Eaters, forbidden from practicing magic anymore, but Lucius hadn’t been so lucky. He had been sentenced to Azkaban (not that it had been a surprise to anyone) and the wizarding world had delighted in his humiliation. The Malfoy’s photos had graced the cover of the Daily Prophet ever since the court dates had become finalized.
Now, it was Draco’s turn.
Harry sat on a hard-wooden chair, fiddling with his sleeves. Dread crept up through the floorboards, sinking into his skin. It sat in the center of his chest, blooming, and with each passing beat, it grew tenfold.
“Let the defendant enter,”
Harry looked up, eyes locking onto a very weary Draco Malfoy. If Harry was honest, Draco looked like a corpse; thin to the bone, with dark circles surrounding pale eyes and dark bruises staining pale skin. He wore simple clothes; a plain white button up and grey dress pants that seemed to be three sizes too large.
Draco took his seat, and so it began.
Harry watched his peers one after another testify against Draco; everyone he had ever called a friend or an ally had turned. Most of the other children of Death Eaters had been either pardoned or given light sentences, but those children didn’t bear the dark mark on their skin. The Wizengamot had asked Harry to testify as well, but he had politely declined; he didn’t feel as though he was in any position to be commenting on the character of a man he spent the past seven years hating. There was too much history between them; Harry’s thoughts on Draco were better left unsaid.
That is, until the trial degraded into chaos.
Accusations flew across the room, and yet Draco remained stone-faced. His character was torn to shreds, and the statements reached heights that even Harry knew were untrue. Draco might have been an awful person, but he was never a killer, that had been all but proven.
“With these final words, the Wizengamot will now take a recess to discuss-”
“Excuse me, Minister, but I would like to testify on the behalf of Draco Malfoy,” Harry spoke before he could stop himself, meeting the stunned eyes of everyone in the room.
“Mr. Potter, this is highly unusual-”
“Minister, with all due respect, no one knows Malfoy the way I do,” he inhaled, expecting to be reprimanded.
“Please step up to the stand, Mr. Potter, and give your statement.”
He took a breath, hands shaking as they met the podium, and began to speak.
“Draco Malfoy and I have despised each other since our first year at Hogwarts. I am the last person that should be giving a testament to his character, but I am the only person who seems to be thinking rationally in this court. Many of the accusations made today were baseless; Malfoy was never a killer. He was a coward. He couldn’t kill Dumbledore, and when it came down to it, he couldn’t kill me. He is the furthest thing from good, but he does not deserve to be punished so harshly for crimes that he did not commit, and things that were not entirely in his control.” He stepped down from the witness stand, eyes low, and made his way back to his seat.
“The council will take this into consideration.”