Upon arriving at the Ministry, Draco started to panic as his mother walked sharply to the elevators and directed him to the Wizengamot Courtrooms. They were uncomfortably located in the dungeons on level ten of the superstructure that represented the British Ministry of Magic, making one feel increasingly claustrophobic during the journey down.
By the time they were walking in the last hallway of the trip his heart was fully racing. It was very long and narrow with no windows and clad in black, shiny bricks which were mysteriously dynamic in depth and color. It was like the hallway to hell. He held his composure with a blank face but the heaving of his chest gave away his fear as a guard in a black leathery outfit opened the massive arched doorway. A second guard followed closely behind them as a sepulchral boom echoed around the sacred chamber with the closing of the entryway.
The room branched at least two stories high. It was upheld by massive, golden chipped pillars sat upon black foundational walls, supporting the amphitheater-style setting. The walls arguably dated back centuries, decorated by ancient paintings of dozens of scantily clad witches and wizards holding their arms upwards with Mediterranean influence in their clothing.
Ahead, the farthest wall behind the Chief Warlock was illuminated with a very tall, singular painting of an individual that appeared religious in nature, but to what society or culture it belonged to remained a mystery. Below it, columns of flames erupted behind random stone archways providing an ominous, glowing lighting source.
The guard that had followed them inside swiftly clamped a large hand onto Draco's left elbow, causing him to momentarily gasp in pain. He was coaxed harshly towards the lower center of the room, nearly tripping from the unexpected speed. There, sat a visually permeable, rusty metal cage. Daunting spikes directed themselves towards the accused Death Eater in the center of every rung, forcing him to stand upright in the cylindrical trap. His father, Lucius Malfoy, hung limply to the bar's before him, underfed and darned in a light and dark gray striped suit. His normally silky, straight platinum hair was matted and his eyes were red around the edges.
Draco was forced into a wooden, wing backed chair to the left of the cage. He sat staring down at the beautiful tile flooring, afraid to raise his eyes to either his traitorous father or the Chief Warlock ahead of him in the tall judge's stand. The porcelain flooring in the lowest platform where he and his father were situated radiated in a gold, silver and blue patterning through centrifugal geometry, with triangular shapes that grew larger within the circumference of multiple stone rings. His blue eyes traced the design, trying to distract himself desperately from his growing anxiety.
Men and women in plum and black robes with oddly shaped hats and elaborate silver 'W's on their shoulders lined up in a semi-circle to the left and right of the Chief Warlock in round pews. Members in plum robes sat lower in the stands than those in black robes. Dozens of eyes burned down onto the two on display. Narcissa drifted off to the far back, sitting with intent eyes amongst a riotous group of onlookers that had come to view the verdict. In the corner of the unruly crowd Rita Skeeter was already whispering to her animated quill, which obediently scribbled every single word she commanded it to.
"Counsel has deliberated," Kingsley Shacklebolt announced from the seat across from Draco, where he encouraged the audience to a silence as the new Chief Warlock of the High Court. He had naturally commandeered the role when he took over as Minister for Magic only weeks prior. It was by some miracle that someone of such a sound ethical character had finally risen to the role, just in time for any judgement to be passed on the Malfoy's. Otherwise, there was no doubt in Draco's mind that regardless of what he had done right during the war, he too would be suffering in Azkaban.
Shacklebolt was adorned in a thick, expensive black robe with some sort of sacred looking silver chain around his neck. His brown eyes rested on Draco, his wand jutting into his throat to elevate the volume of his voice like a speaker, "Draco Malfoy, you have been summoned here for the final verdict of this trial, case number 6715, with relation to your father, Lucius Malfoy the Second. Evaluation by the Jury has found the defendant to be guilty of the following..." The list seemed to be endless, at least ten items long pertaining to magical misuse, murder in the first degree, membership with an anarchist society... Draco squirmed in his chair with a deep frown on his face, horrified at the thought that they would come for him next under similar pretenses.
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𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒽 | 𝒟.𝑀.
FanfictionA horrific wizarding war has finally concluded proceeding incredible loss and trauma: the dark lord Voldemort has finally been defeated. Both Draco and Madeleine have miraculously survived through their volatile roles as death eaters and double age...
