𝔖𝔢𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔡 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 (18+ ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔢)

No Prison Cell Required

     "Draco Malfoy, the Ministry deduced that you're a Death Eater from numerous reports and the tattoo on your arm," Kingsley Shacklebolt's somber tone filled in the silent courtroom. 

     My heart pounded against my ribcage as the condemning mark on my arm burned and itched—as if it was alive. 

     "Due to that fact, we have decided to charge you as an adult." 

     Flashing camera lights, quills scratching notes onto parchment, and murmurs of discussion hummed to life. Judgmental eyes from the red and black robed council members dug into me from all directions.

     I clenched my jaw as my stomach seized—worried that I'd be sick all over the polished marble floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mother shake her head as she dabbed at the tears running down her weary face.

     "I understand Minister, and am prepared to face all the charges against me," my voice echoed in the large room, sounding like someone else from a distant land.

     "Very well." Unrolling a scroll, Shacklebolt adjusted his eyewear before speaking. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are charged with aiding and abetting a known murderer and terrorist. We have evidence that you willingly..."

     Sweat coated my skin as memories of him killing Charity Burbage, torturing random people, and his sexual escapades with Aunt Bellatrix to create an unwanted child—flashed before my eyes.

     "Do you understand the charges against you, Mr. Malfoy?" the Minister of Magic asked. 

     My attention snapped back to the orange and purple clad man. "Yes, I do."

     "Very good." Shacklebolt cleared his throat, his dark gaze scanned the room. "Before we go any further, I ask the court to review the statement given to us by Harry James Potter. I believe it will expedite this case."

     NO! 

     My mouth popped open—I'm sure it made me look like a fish gasping for water. I clenched the arms of my chair to keep from bolting from the room as fear ran it's cold fingers down my spine.

     The Minister waved his hand at a massive pile of papers surrounding the ebony bench he was sitting at.

     A scroll drifted to the center of the room, unrolling and growing a foot bigger. When touching the ground, Potter's image popped to life on top of the parchment.

     I sucked in a surprised breath at the number of bruises and cuts covering his face. Even though Potter could do with a week of sleep, and eat a whole hippogriff, he exuded power. I could feel his will vibrating from his compact frame, commanding everyone's attention—as he always does.

     "I, Harry James Potter, am giving this statement in regards to Draco Lucius Malfoy." As the raven-haired Gryffindor spoke, the matching word on the parchment glowed gold. 

"I'm aware that Draco Malfoy was, in fact, a Death Eater. He committed many monstrous acts under Voldemort's orders and should be held accountable. However, I believe he had little choice due to his Father, Lucius Malfoy, and the affiliations made many years ago."

     Potter paused and took a deep breath. His emerald eyes seemed to shimmer with raging emotions that his warm tone of voice didn't convey. "On the evening of Albus Dumbledore's murder"—Harry clenched his fists—"the Professor instructed me to hide under the stairs when he heard someone approaching us. It turned out to be Draco Malfoy."

     A tight knot clogged my windpipe as the reoccurring conversation and final moments of the great Wizards life flashed before my eyes. I swallowed hard several times to try and remove the sticky lump—it didn't help.

     Harry's image continued speaking, "Malfoy told Dumbledore that he had no choice concerning his actions. Voldemort threatened to kill him and his family if he didn't obey. It forced Malfoy to do whatever he could to stay alive and as safe as possible.

     "When the invading Death Eaters came charging into the tower, I realized that Malfoy didn't want to kill Dumbledore. By fixing the vanishing cabinet, one of the invading Death Eater's would take care of it instead."

     What did he just say? I leaned closer to his image.

     "I witnessed Draco and Narcissa Malfoy defect before my final duel with Voldemort." Potter cleared his throat. "Due to these happenings, I ask the Wizengamot to be lenient on Draco Malfoy. I don't believe he should be sent to Azkaban Prison. I thank you for your time and consideration in this matter."

     I stared at Potter's frozen image standing on the parchment, wondering if I was dreaming or lost my mind and was really locked up in the looney bin on some high-dose medication.

     Loud voices buzzed in my ears, pulling my gaze to the crowd. It was impossible to distinguish a single word flying through the room. Dozens of expressions from shocked to agreeable, painted peoples faces.

     I shook my head to dissipate the hazy confusion from my mind. Then it dawned on me that Harry Potter asked the court to go easy on me.

     My eyes snapped back to the magic parchment. I re-read the golden script several times to make sure I understood what Potter said. As I finished the last sentence, my heart pounded so hard I was getting lightheaded.

     "Mr. Potter apologizes for not being present to have given his statement in person. He had business elsewhere. I was there to witness the collection of Mr. Potter's testimony and can validate its authenticity," Shacklebolt said.

     "If Harry Potter thinks..." 

     What are they saying?

     Red and black-clad members of the courtroom lifted their gloved hands or remained stone faced.

     Shaking, I sucked in deep breaths as my vision continued to turn grey. Nothing made sense.

     Shacklebolt banged his gavel against the desk, the thundering noise was like a hammer nailing my coffin closed. 

     What's happening?

     Unable to stop, I tipped forward. The last thing I felt was my nose crack against the marble floor's cold, unforgiving surface.