The Malfoy Case

Chapter 1

The fireplace crackled sharply, cutting through the silence. The hall seemed to ring with emptiness.

"You need to at least try this time around."

His voice sounded hollow. The house felt hollow. Her expression was the epitome of hollow.

Around them, the drapes hung low over the windows, and the stained glass of the skylights above was enveloped in cobwebs, but even the shadows that spread over the floor couldn't quite hide the spaces where all the ancient furniture used to sit. The footprints of their dragged bodies had left marks of dust on the once polished floor, and he air seemed to hang heavily, hardly making an effort to carry his voice.

The tall columns and tapestried walls were now empty, the paintings leaving gaping black holes everywhere they hung. His ancestors had long retired into the walls, taking their sinister stares with them. He often found himself wishing he could do the same.

It was just a house, now. An old, faded picture of ancient memories that guilt, pain and shame had worn out into a decrepit ghost. Just a vast, empty house, whose old role of a mother had been buried under a short, but unforgettable career as a prison.

"The china," he said, almost like he was baiting her for a reaction. He waited for a flinch, a flash of resentment, anything.

Nothing.

Beside them, the fire flared slightly, casting drunken, bloodshot light onto her pale face, and the bag in his hand felt impossibly heavy. Her eyes seemed to see straight through his shoulder. When had he grown taller than she was? It must have happened years ago. He couldn't remember ever noticing it before now.

The watch in his pocket was ticking away, and every second brought new weight to the bag in his hand. He forced the words out one more time.

"Please, Mother. At least try."

And turning away from her, without even glancing at her in some wistful hope of a response, he seized a handful of the grey powder from the bag and threw it into the towering fireplace, reaching to pull his mother into the flames with him.

One last glance into the room made him regret it; the bright green flash of the flames against the alabaster floor made him want to throw up. He clenched his jaw tightly as the world began to spin and he hoped, in a swift, sickened thought at himself, that his words hadn't sounded quite as much as begging as he felt they had.

...

"This is ridiculous." Ernie Macmillan ran his hand through his hair in frustration, glaring down at the table in front of him. He took a deep breath and splayed his hands on the shining wood. Then he turned his head to look at the woman to his left. "The case is practically closed; there isn't a soul in that courtroom that believes otherwise. The jury has known the truth since 1973! Even Howard knew it! Prolonging this trial any further would simply be preposterous."

"The very fact that Perkins abandoned his client is proof enough that the case cannot be decided on with so little evidence to stand on."

Macmillan scoffed. "'Little evidence'? I beg to differ! The only evidence there has been little of is that of Malfoy's innocence. And with absolutely no argument being made on the accused's part, I believe the decision will be an easy one."

"That's the very reason for why I'm replacing Perkins," said Greengrass, her blue eyes flashing as she turned to the three seated at the table. "Minister, my client's representation so far has been handled in a way which was, frankly, quite mediocre. It would be unjust to proceed to the jury with no decent defense having being made. My client is quite clearly mentally unwell and is yet to recover from the trauma-"