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It's Just A Tale	By : ehcie0utada Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 3026 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling. All credits should go to her...the money as well. I don't get any profit for writing this fic.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
DISCLAIMER: The Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling. All credits should go to her.

WARNING: DH SPOILERS…well, basically all the HP books are spoiled here.

This is a response to the 36 Dramatic Situations Challenge by Incessant_Darkness.

It’s Just A Tale

By reiAlethea

Chapter 4: The Verdict

“There is a wonderful mythical law of nature that the three things we crave most in life -- happiness, freedom, and peace of mind -- are always attained by giving them to someone else.”

Peyton Conway March

Murmur turned to an uproar inside the courtroom. Kingsley Shacklebolt pounded the gavel on the pedestal with a bit more force to silence the squabbling Wizengamot members.

For a moment, Draco thought he was dreaming. A stoic demeanor remained on his face, but as Potter walked, he felt his weak mask slowly slip away. He knew it was impossible to convince Potter to come to the trial, and the letter he received as well as the absence of a reply made that fact all the more clear. But as the lightning-shaped scar peeped through jet-black strands, there’s no mistaking the scar that branded The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice. Draco blinked his eyes several times, trying to convince himself that it was all an illusion, a trick. But like an apparition, Potter came closer and closer towards him.

Emerald eyes suddenly met his. One intent glance, and Draco’s mind went completely numb. When the raven-haired wizard brushed past him and slightly bumped his robe-covered arm, goose bumps immediately raised all over his cold skin. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, and all the denials melted away. Reality struck him: Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World and the schoolmate whom he had collided with from the start, was there, indeed present.

Draco’s mind was short-circuiting. Ever since they met in the Hogwarts train during their first year, they had been sworn enemies. And enemies weren’t supposed to help enemies. So why was Potter here? Whatever’s happening now, Draco thought, wasn’t supposed to happen. He simply couldn’t comprehend Potter’s sudden appearance. Did Potter…care?

Absurd! Harry Potter, of all people! However, he was horrified to find himself relishing at the thought. He tried to shake it out of his mind, but the more he tried, the more pronounced his elation grew. Why did he feel happy, knowing that Potter might be concerned somehow? He cursed his traitorous emotions inwardly, wishing that he could devoid himself of any feeling. But at the moment, he allowed himself an inkling of happiness. As long as no one knew, it wouldn’t hurt, right?

How he hated himself now.

***

Kingsley peered at the approaching young, raven-haired wizard. “Mister Potter. What a surprise to see you here.” The minister’s voice was frigid, but his chestnut brown eyes glinted with mild amusement. “You do agree to be Mister Malfoy’s witness?”

Harry looked at Kingsley awaiting his reply, who still seemed surprised and fascinated with his presence. His hand found its way to one of his cloak pocket. Reaching for a parchment tucked in it, he clutched it with heavy palms, crumpling it under the crushing weight.

“Yes.”

Murmurs of disbelief and the furious scribbling of the court scribe resounded in the dungeon. “Very well Mister Potter,” said Kingsley, “you may take your seat.”

Harry glanced at the straight-faced Mister Wight standing a few feet away. The lawyer nodded slightly, seemingly pleased with his presence. As Kingsley pounded the gavel to drown out the whispers, his eyes shifted to the rows of benches at the back of the room. Seeing the empty pews, he realized that he was the only witness in Malfoy’s trial. However hard he tried to deny, a wave of sympathy for the blond coursed through him.

“Minister Shacklebolt,” Mister Wight said abruptly, “may I ask for a brief recess to talk to my client and the witness?”

A fine buzz began to echo in the courtroom once more. “Very well,” replied Kingsley, his other hand busy rolling the piece of parchment lying on top of the pedestal. “The trial will have a 30-minute recess.”

Pounding the gavel one last time, the members of the Wizengamot started to filter out of the courtroom, their voices rising and falling with each echoing footfall.

“This is indeed an unexpected but welcomed surprise,” the auburn-haired lawyer said, extending his hand to Harry. “Leander Apollo Wight, lawyer of the defense.”

“Harry Potter,” Harry said as he shook the lawyer’s offered hand.

Mister Wight smiled and released the handshake. “I’m very honored to meet you at last, Mister Potter. Me and my client, Mister Malfoy thought you weren’t coming.”

“I’m sorry. It’s a bit last-minute,” he explained.

“Better late than never,” Mister Wight quipped.

“Potter.”

He recognized the voice all too well. Harry glanced at the tall, slender figure walking towards Mister Wight. Draco Malfoy paced deliberately slow, his bound hands peeping underneath loose gray long sleeves.

“Malfoy.”

Harry watched the shell of the enemy he once knew. The drawling features that were distinctly Malfoy were gone. Instead, a gaunt pale man stood before him. The platinum blond locks that once shone even under the faintest light were now matte and unkempt, and darkened circles were nestled under blank and indecipherable silvery gray eyes.

Suddenly, their gazes met, green against silver. To Harry, it seemed as though time suspended. Malfoy’s hauntingly empty gray eyes stared back at him, his own face reflected on the glassy orbs. The detached persona perhaps hadn’t left yet, Harry mused. However, for the faintest second, he thought he saw a flash of fear and apprehension in the same gray eyes – the same expression he saw when he caught the blond crying in the boy’s bathroom during their sixth year.

Mister Wight cleared his throat, breaking their eye contact. “I hate to cut in Mister Potter,” Mister Wight interrupted, “but I have to talk to you about the details of the hearing. If we can step outside and into the adjoining conference room just across with Mister Malfoy and your companions, we can start with our short meeting.”

When Harry looked at Malfoy again, the silvery gray eyes were back to their distant state. Only then did he notice the two looming figures of Malfoy’s guards standing on each side.

He remembered the Aurors he had in tow and sighed. He had been under the protection of the two under direct orders from Kingsley Shacklebolt for fear that the remaining Death Eaters-at-large would attempt a surprise attack on him. Glancing at the two Aurors guarding Malfoy, he felt he was no different from the blond at the moment.

Harry nodded in response to the lawyer. Mister Wight smiled once more. “Splendid. This way please, gentlemen,” he said, leading them outside the dark courtroom.

***

It was the longest two hours of Draco’s life. As he sat in the middle of the courtroom guarded by Dementors and Aurors, a certain light feeling wrapped his mind. He felt drained after the interrogators’ intense questioning. But the worst was almost over. The melodious voice of Mister Wight echoed once more in the dungeon walls.

“I call on Mister Harry James Potter.”

The faint muttering ceased and every pair of eyes turned to the dark-haired wizard sitting on the benches. Mister Wight conjured another seat a few paces away from Draco with a swish of his wand, and in the chair he saw Potter sit, merely resting on its end.

“State your full name,” said Kingsley. Draco noticed Potter grip the wooden armrests of his chair tightly.

“Harry James Evans Potter.”

“And what relation do you have with the accused?” the dark-skinned Minister asked.

Potter paused for a while, seemingly contemplating what to say. Just when Draco dreaded the reply, he answered. “I’m Draco Malfoy’s previous schoolmate.”

Mister Wight started asking a series of questions, but as he tried to listen to Potter give a statement to the Wizengamot, confusion clouded his mind. Previous schoolmate? The reply perplexed Draco immensely. Potter could have told the Wizengamot the truth – that he was not in good terms with him right from the beginning. However, the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice settled with a vague answer instead. His mind was swimming in a myriad of questions that most likely will remain unanswered, but he didn’t want it to be so. He wanted answers, and answers he will definitely get…possibly after the trial today.

The raven-haired wizard’s voice reached his ears, pulling him out of stupor. “I saw Professor Snape kill Professor Dumbledore that night on top of the Astronomy Tower. Malfoy just disarmed the Professor, but he didn’t even give as much as a shallow cut to him.”

Memories of the night in the Astronomy Tower resurfaced in Draco’s mind. He felt like he was slipping in and out of those haunted memories as he watched the person he once bullied at Hogwarts testify for him. Nobody noticed his discolored windburned lips tighten.

He looked at the face of the disarmed Headmaster as the glowing Dark Mark hovered above the Astronomy Tower. A green hue tinged the old wizard’s creased features. Draco couldn’t help but shudder at the task he had to do. How could he kill the Headmaster of the school?

Dumbledore’s eyes shone with understanding – the very last thing he expected to see. It unnerved him, and he knew it would only be a matter of seconds before his weak indifferent facade crumble.

“Come over to the right side, Draco,” said Dumbledore, “and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother to hide her likewise. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban…when the time comes we can protect him too.”

Draco wanted to believe the headmaster’s words, wanted to believe that by giving up the task his family will be safe. However, he knew those words were too good to be true.

“…come over to the right side, Draco…you are not a killer…”

Not a killer? His face felt hot all of a sudden, and tears seemed to build up in the corners of his eyes. He remembered all of the people he nearly killed because his attempts to end the headmaster’s life backfired. How can Dumbledore say that he was not a killer?

He mustered his strength and spoke once more, trying hard to hide the tremulous tone in his voice. “But I got this far, didn’t I? They thought I’d die in the attempt, but I’m here…and you’re in my power…I’m the one with the wand…you’re at my mercy…”

Dumbledore’s eyes reflected sadness. “No Draco. It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now.”

His heart pounded mercilessly in his chest, realization sinking within him. Dumbledore was right. If there was anyone strong enough to face Voldemort, it would be the headmaster. His wand hand trembled.

The door behind him burst open, and suddenly he found himself pushed aside by his fellow Death Eaters. There was much shuffling and jeering, but all Draco was aware of at the moment was the fear that he felt. With Death Eaters surrounding him, there was no escaping his task.

“Draco, do it,” Alecto Carrow shrilled, “or stand aside so that one of us – ”

Another loud bang from the door, and he saw Snape emerge from the dark stairwell. His coal-colored eyes gleamed against the moonlight, scanning the scene for every detail.

Amycus addressed the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor without taking his eyes off Dumbledore. “We’ve got a problem, Snape. The boy doesn’t seem able to – ”

“Severus…”

Dumbledore’s faint voice echoed, and before Draco knew it, he felt himself hurtled to the side once more. Snape walked towards the heaped form of the headmaster, his face showing only loathing.

Dumbledore pleaded once more. “Severus…please…”

As if in slow motion, Draco watched as Snape raised his wand.

“Avada Kedavra!”

Green light burst in the Astronomy Tower, and with silent horror, Draco saw Dumbledore fall into the dark abyss.

Kingsley shuffled with the parchment he was holding and spoke again. “What about Mister Malfoy’s participation with the Death Eaters?”

Draco shivered. He tried to shake the memory out of his mind. Attempting to revert his attention to Potter’s statement, he looked at the hunched form of the raven-haired man sitting on the chair. He noticed the hard look that shone on the slightly tanned face.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Harry replied. “All I know is it’s because of him that I’m alive today. If he had identified the three of us when we were captured, we would still be in the hands of Voldemort.”

Another wave of mumbling resonated in the courtroom, and Kingsley cleared his throat to silence the crowd.

“Mister Potter, would you care to expound on the matter?”

As he recounted the events that happened, Draco’s mind flew back again to the time the three arrived in Malfoy Manor.

He heard much shuffling as Greyback brought a new group of people he and the other Snatchers caught. His mother let Greyback’s group enter and the freshly caught booty were chucked to the spacious drawing room.

His father rose in his seat and went to the crowd. “What is this?” he heard his father say. His mother walked closer to the sprawled captives.

“They said they’ve got Potter.” His mother turned around and looked at him. “Draco, come here.”

He looked at the dark-haired person crumpled on the floor. The slightly tanned face was bruised and stretched beyond recognition. Despite the lack of scar on the forehead and the unrecognizable features, he somehow felt it was Potter who was hunched in front of him. How he knew this he didn’t understand.

“Well boy?” asked Greyback.

Lucius’ eyes glowed with impatience and excitement. “Well Draco? Is it? Is it Harry Potter?”

He glanced to his mother who was also looking at the distorted face of the man groped on the floor.

His mind went blank. He didn’t know whether he will tell them or not. Just one more mistake and something bad would happen to him or his parents. He didn’t want to experience the wrath of the Dark Lord.

“I can’t – I can’t be sure…”he mumbled.

“Don’t take it to offence, Mister Potter, but mere statements are somewhat insufficient, given the nature of the accusation against Mister Malfoy,” exclaimed one of the Wizengamot members. “We need hard evidence, not just some tale!”

“How dare you say that to Mister Potter!” a witch shouted back.

The usual muttering now swelled to a loud babbling, and Draco was roused to full alert when Kingsley hammered the gavel on the pedestal in front of him. The drone of the crowd instantly died down.

“Mister Potter,” Kingsley started, “I have no choice but to ask you for evidence Can you present any to the Wizengamot to prove that Mister Draco Malfoy is, indeed, innocent of murdering Albus Dumbledore and participating in You-Know-Who’s movement?

Draco’s eyes flew to Potter’s back. He thought that he saw the shoulders stiffen for a moment.

“I can show you my memories to prove it.”

***

The sound of gasps, disbelief and amusement roared back to life. Kingsley pounded the pedestal harder this time to silence the crowd. He whispered to a Wizengamot member sitting beside him. With a curt nod, the wizard rose and weaved out of the pews.

“Very well Mister Potter,” Kingsley resumed, “retrieve your memories of the said events in front of the Wizengamot and place them in the vials that will be provided for viewing.”

After a few seconds, the young wizard that was sitting beside the minister returned, holding a silver tray with three glass vials. He was followed by another older wizard carrying an object that resembled a large mirror.

During the past weeks he had been trained about other useful spells, including the Recordatracto spell that retrieved memories. But using that spell was painful and numbing at the same time, and how he hated it.

A moment of hesitation passed in him. However, if using it meant it could save another person – even Malfoy, he would endure the pain.

Harry pulled his wand out and placed the tip against his temple. He looked at the twinkling vials before him, inhaled, and closed his eyes. A thousand different memories flashed before his mind.

“Recordatracto,” he murmured. A silver, airy wisp floated out. His forehead scrunched and his grip tightened as he pulled out the last of a particular memory. Grasping one vial, he directed the wisp inside the glass and placed a stopper. Beads of sweat had started to form on his head when he pulled out another memory from his temple.

“Mister Wight, please place Mister Potter’s memories in the praeterulum.”

The lawyer carefully got the first vial on the silver tray, unstoppered it, and slowly poured the wispy contents on the lying mirror-like object. Seconds passed before he shifted the mirror again to an upright position.

A hazy cloud washed over the praeterulum’s shiny surface. The smoke soon tangled and formed to vivid images, and the Wizengamot watched as the memories played like a roll of film. Dumbledore’s hunched form reflected on the mirror-like object. The conversation was amplified in the courtroom. Most members recoiled in horror as they watched Snape cast the Unforgivable Curse at the headmaster. It was soon followed by a silent gasp as Dumbledore fell from the tower.

Harry watched once more the events that he tried so hard to forget. Seeing Dumbledore fall once more made the headmaster’s death all the more real. He closed his eyes and turned his head away, not wanting to witness the events anymore.

The images melted away to nothing but a blur. The crowd was still shaken when the wizard poured the contents of the second vial into the praeterulum, making the cloudy surface blend to distinct images once more. The Malfoy Manor loomed into view, and the Wizengamot members watched as the Malfoys and some of the Death Eaters tried to configure the identity of the captives.

Malfoy’s figure was a few feet away from the captives, his eyes seemingly avoiding the crumpled heap that were the captives. “Well boy?” Greyback’s snarling face sneered at the young Malfoy.

Lucius Malfoy studied the face of the captive, his eyes shining with crazed enthusiasm. “Well Draco? Is it? Is it Harry Potter?” He peered closer to the disfigured face of the dark-haired man.

“I can’t – I can’t be sure…”

The image dissipated to an inky smoke once more. The members talked animatedly amongst themselves as the wizards removed the praeterulum and the vials from the courtroom.

“You may take your seat on the benches Mister Potter,” Kingsley motioned. Harry stood up, relieved to be excused from sitting in the middle of the courtroom.

As the Wizengamot members exchanged reactions, Harry looked at Malfoy sitting quietly on the chair in the middle of the courtroom. The deed was done, and all he can do was wait. And as he watched, he found himself inwardly wishing that he had done enough to help.

***

A good half-hour had passed before the Minister of Magic cleared his throat to silence the members. “In light of the presented evidence, the Wizengamot will now decide on the two offences. Those in favor of clearing the accused of the murder charges?” Kingsley said.

Draco looked up and saw that two-thirds had raised their hands, including Kingsley Shacklebolt. “Those in favor of conviction?” he added, and the remaining people raised their hands as well.

“For the second offence, those in favor of clearing the accused?” Kingsley repeated once more. A few members raised their hands. “Those in favor of conviction?” a couple of hands were raised as well.

“Honorable Minister,” a red-haired witch said, “the rest of the Wizengamot agrees that the evidence presented by Mister Harry Potter regarding the second offence is insufficient to come up with a decision. Therefore, we are requesting for a continuing trial regarding the involvement of Mister Draco Malfoy with the Death Eaters.”

Most of the members nodded and voiced their agreement to the witch’s suggestion. Kingsley shuffled the parchment in front of him. “In this case, those who are in favor of a continuing trial please raise your hand up.”

Almost all of the members sitting on the benches raised their hands. Upon seeing the wave of hands, Kingsley retrieved a small wooden stamp. “Mister Draco Malfoy, you are cleared of charges for the murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, previous headmaster of Hogwarts.” he said as he brought the stamp crashing on the parchment. “For the charges on your participation on the Death Eaters’ Movement, the trial will resume on the 10^thof June. This trial is adjourned.”

The gavel came crashing down the wooden pedestal, signaling the end of the grueling trial. As the Wizengamot filtered out of the room, he stood up, his head still floating.

‘Potter.’ He had to ask him why he testified to his defense. He whirled around quickly, looking at the benches for a sign of the raven-haired wizard. He saw Potter descending the steps, followed closely by the three Aurors who accompanied him. He paced, making his way towards Potter. He had almost reached his target when someone grasped his wrist.

“Mister Malfoy, this way please.”

An Auror loomed before him. The manacles binding his hand clanked, reminding him that despite being cleared of the murder of Dumbledore, he was still not granted freedom. He looked at the gathering crowd once more, but Potter was nowhere to be found. He wanted answers, but with his current plight it seemed to him that he must wait. With one last retreating look, he allowed himself to be led by his guards back to the prison chamber he loathed so much.

***

With the Aurors swiftly following behind, Harry hurriedly walked out of the courtroom. But as soon as he stepped out of the dungeons, a hand in the crowd shot out and grabbed him.

Harry spun around, still disoriented from the sudden pull, when he looked up and saw the face of Hermione Granger. Happy to see his friend, he was about to hug Hermione when a wand shot out, pointing at the girl’s neck.

“HEY!” Harry snapped, “SHE’S MY FRIEND!”

Another witch hurried towards Harry. “DAWLISH JR.! Put your bloody wand down this instant! That’s Hermione Granger!” The Auror quickly lowered his wand and murmured an apology.

“I’m sorry about that, ‘mione,” Harry said, “these are John Dawlish Jr. and Hestia Jones. They’re Aurors who, erm, look after me.”

Looking surprised for a second, Hermione stammered a “there’s no harm done,” before pulling Harry in a fierce hug.

“I heard from Mister Weasley about the trial today.” she said after pulling away. “How are you doing?”

Harry smiled. “I’m fine, I guess. But let’s talk somewhere private.”

Hermione looked reluctant, but said yes. It was enough for Harry’s spirits to go up. The pair went out of the dungeons with the Aurors still in tow.

Soon, Harry and Hermione arrived in Hog’s Head. Despite the small number of patrons, both opted to sit at a very dark corner instead of the counter. Harry asked the Aurors to sit a few feet away from them, which the two obliged. When the two friends finally sat down, silence enveloped for a good few minutes, no one wanting to utter the first word.

Aberforth Dumbledore trudged towards the pair while cleaning a mug. “What will it be for you lot?”

“Tea please,” Hermione said.

“Same,” Harry replied.

As the owner left, Hermione started the conversation. “So Harry, how was the trial?” she asked.

“It went more smoothly than I expected,” Harry answered, “I had to present some evidence, so I pulled out my memories.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped in awe. “You used the memory-encapsulating charm?” she asked, “oh my God Harry, that spell is complicated! I didn’t know you were already that advanced in your training.”

He gave a weak smile. “It hurt though,” he said.

“Of course, it must have,” Hermione replied. “To pull out a fragment of memory out of one’s mind, however small it may be, is still taxing in the brain.” Hermione paused for a while, seemingly contemplating the words she would say. After twiddling her fingers for a good few minutes, she breathed deeply and started to speak.

“So what happened to Malfoy? Has he been set free?”

Harry’s smile disappeared immediately. “No. The evidence was not enough, so he will have another trial.”

Hermione squeaked “oh,” seemingly shocked at the outcome. A few minutes of silence followed, both unsure of what to say next. The tea arrived soon after, but it was almost ignored. The contents in the teacups started to get cold.

Harry resolved that he will start the conversation this time.

“How is Ron?” he asked.

Hermione looked at the dark-haired wizard and sighed. “Well, you know Ron,” she said, “as stubborn as ever. I tried talking to him to get some sense out of him but he refuses to hear me out. Let’s just let him be for the meantime and let him realize it for himself.”

It had already been two weeks since he last talked to Ron. There was still no sign that the redhead will patch things up with him anytime soon, and he was already missing his best friend. On the other hand, he was also feeling guilty for dragging Hermione into the mess. Harry stretched his hand out to clasp Hermione’s hand resting on the table. “I’m really sorry about this ‘mione. You’re caught in the middle of this frenzy because of me.”

Hermione’s brown eyes softened. “It’s not your fault Harry,” she replied. “I understand what you were trying to say last time. It’s just that Ron is going through a tough time right now. Don’t worry about me, I can handle him.”

Harry sighed resignedly, his head buried in his hands. Hermione looked at her with concern.

“Harry, what’s wrong? You look as though you haven’t slept for days.”

Harry stared at the sugar bowl lying a few inches away from him. “Hermione, what am I doing?” he asked. “Why did I willingly start this commotion for Malfoy?”

Hermione frowned. “Because you know it’s the right thing to do,” she said, “you’re just too noble, Harry. You’re a bloody Gryffindor, through and through!”

Harry closed his eyes. He still was at awe at his own actions. The reasons why he was helping Malfoy, the bully who had tormented him for most of his stay at Hogwarts, were still amiss to him. He was acting out of pure instinct, or as Hermione would usually put it, out of stubborn Gryffindor nobleness.

“But Ron’s my friend…”

“Ron just said that because he is still hurt from Fred’s death,” Hermione cut, “but if he’s back to his senses, I know he will also support you.”

“And the Order – ”

“Oh for heaven’s sake!” Hermione sighed, “If you’re thinking that you betrayed the Order, you are not. Honestly Harry, if you didn’t testify, would you be at ease as well?”

Harry slightly swirled the contents of his teacup. The dark leaves suspended in the amber liquid at the disturbance. The peace of mind he was hoping for was still as murky as the tea he held in his hand. He didn’t want to be accountable again for another person’s life. The war had left him with so much regret and guilt that he was uncertain if he would still be able to keep his sanity if another death happened again. But another life was offered to him, asking him to save it from inevitable destruction. It might not be the life of someone close to him, but he could still feel the weight of the burden placed upon his shoulders.

“No, I won’t…” he feebly murmured.

Hermione stopped Harry from playing with his tea. The raven-haired wizard looked at his friend’s brown eyes. “Remember this Harry. It’s always better to follow your conscience.”

Harry sighed again and stared at the leaves that settled at the bottom of the cup. He could almost make out a shape of a serpent.

“I hope you’re right Hermione. I hope you’re right.”

The two smiled and sipped their cold tea. And as they started to exchange stories once more, they were unaware of another pair of gleaming black eyes looking at them intensely.

TBC

***

A/N: Sorry for the wait. I had been struggling with the flow of the plot in this chapter, so it took more time than the previous ones.Anyway, this chapter is laced with references from HBP and DH, so yeah, lots of spoilers. You have been warned from the beginning.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Again, reviews of all kinds are most welcome. Thanks for reading!

---rei
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It's Just A Tale