Draco Malfoy Imagines

twenty-three • (4/5)

~•XXXIII•~
Adjudicated
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Y/N rushed to Draco's side as he fell forward in his chair. Some of the jury raised their wands instinctively and Harry stepped in between with a brazen-faced countenance. He clearly recalled his share of unfair judgement in this particular room and with these particular people. The boy stopped them from getting any closer but he couldn't stop them from giving their scathing remarks.

"Mr. Potter, as much as we are grateful for everything you've done for this community," A juror stepped forward with an indignant foot and addressed the girl behind him. "You must have clearly forgotten that you are protecting a Death-Eater."

Kingsley crouched down astride Y/N to check on the unconscious boy inspite of the current circumstances. Once he was sure that he was in no grave danger, he pulled out a broken pocket-watch and with a swift movment, charmed it into a portkey.

He took advantage of the conflict that was slowly stirring behind them.

"Take this, it will take you to where you need to be." Y/N looked up at him, clearly baffled by his words. "He's going to be alright, you need to leave, now." The Prime Minister whispered, dropping the object in her hand.

Luckily, Y/N caught on to what was going to happen and intertwined her hand with Draco's, ignoring his unmoving cold, calloused fingers. She braced herself as she felt the pocket watch tug at her arm and they were both gone. The Prime Minister stepped away from the scene of the crime and padded over to the group.

"I–no, we believe that you and the Prime Minister are mistaken! Why bother when we know that the boy is no different from his family?" The juror fumed, appealing to Draco's terrible family history.

"I've one more memory to show Prime Minister." Harry said, ignoring the juror and turning to Kingsley.

"And who's memory is this Mr. Potter?" He asked.

Harry pulled out his pouch, summoning the pensieve from within. He then pointed his wand to his temple, sifting through his own stretch of memories.

The jury watched closely as he searched for a particular memory, his memory of Narcissa Malfoy. A whispy string was extracted and he casted it into the pensieve.

"Sometimes, you think you know someone but you don't," Harry's voice was quiet and his eyes cold as he stared the jury down.

"And you judge someone's choice... without knowing what they had to choose from."

The jury inched back and grew silent, making Harry satisfied with his own choice of words. He took a step back, allowing anyone who wanted to view his memory to step forward. A familiar witch that sided with Harry from before came forth and greeted Harry with a nod. He returned the gesture and retreated to Kingsley's side.

One by one the jurors formed a line, waiting for their turn of viewing Harry's memory. Harry shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot as an awful idea dawned on him. He felt as though he set up a small pay-per-view of himself in the very heart of the Ministry, and the payment he received was judgement. He decided to push that thought aside.

"Harry, you do know that we have to inspect these evidences further before giving the final verdict, right?" Kingsley spared Harry a sideway glance.