All the Wrong Things (The Rights and Wrongs series) #2

1

Friday, August 27, 1999

They're murmuring again. Trying to keep their voices low so the prisoner can't hear. But the prisoner is fifteen feet away, and they are failing.

I wish they would take me out of the room if they need to discuss. Bring me back to the small room I was in this morning. But, of course, they let me stand in this cage in the middle of them. On display.

I pick a spot four feet in front of me and maintain my gaze. I don't want to look at them and I don't want to fall asleep. I feel a yawn.

"Mr. Malfoy. Your next witness is here. Are you ready to proceed?"

I almost smile. Do I have a choice?

I nod my head, interested to see what "witnesses" I have.

And Harry Fucking Potter walks in. He looks over at me and has the audacity to grimace, like he pities me. What a joke.

They question him about the night Dumbledore died. No one has ever told me that Potter was there the whole time. Something about a cave, and flying back, and then me appearing on the Astronomy Tower.

I know this story already so I close my eyes.

"And then I saw him lower his wand."

My eyes open. Potter is already looking at me, and I hold in a sneer as it would probably not help my case. His eyes are glistening. Is he going to fucking cry?

"I saw Draco Malfoy lower his wand when Albus Dumbledore offered him protection. I believe that he would have taken the offer if the Death Eaters had not entered the Astronomy Tower at that very moment."

"Mr. Potter, the night that Albus Dumbledore was murdered is already on file from the testimony you gave for Severus Snape. We cannot reopen that night."

"And what if I have new information? Information to help the accused."

"You have already told us that Draco Malfoy failed to kill Albus Dumbledore" – I wince – "and we have that in the file."

A redhead. "Do you have more information for us, Mr. Potter?"

I watch as Potter stumbles over his words, trying to find a pathway back to his noble intentions. He starts talking about the night the Snatchers got him. He looks at me once, quickly, and I'm happy to note that I'm already glaring back in confusion.

What could he possibly have to say about that night? I think of his bubbling skin, the scar bulging out, distorting the stupid lines of it. My father bringing me down to look at him. And his disturbing green eyes looking back at me.

Of course it was Harry Potter. Anyone with half a brain would know.

"—And he refused to identify me," Potter says.

A laugh bursts from my throat. A scoff. I guess that's one way of looking at it.

Potter turns to look me. And the slight horror on his face is worth it. I smile at him. Like I just caught the Snitch.

"Mr. Potter," the redhead asks. "I have several questions about Dolores Umbridge, and Mr. Malfoy's actions under her reign at Hogwarts."

I sigh. I settle myself in my cage. I lean back against the bars and cross my ankles and my arms, and let them condemn me.

The sound of Potter's voice blends into the background. And I wait for a shift in the air. After ten minutes or so, I feel him dismissed.

"Mr. Malfoy." A grey-haired man. "This is your opportunity to comment on the testimony provided. Do you have a comment?"