What Shakes The Elephant

What Shakes The Elephant

Chapter 13 – And All We’ve Been Through

Harry paced his living room for the umpteenth time that week. Ginny was sitting in the armchair in front of the fireplace, surveying him anxiously as she always did. He knew that she had been feeling ill lately, though she would never admit it to him, and that his stress and constant tension was not helping matters, but he could not control it at the moment.

Harry had tried to spend as much of his time worrying away from the house to avoid affecting his wife. Lately, mind you, that would entail that he spend all of his time away from home and that wasn’t healthy either. So, he paced his living room, allowing his mind to race back and forth through all the events that had occurred in the past two weeks.

The morning after Malfoy had run out on him, Harry had found out exactly why. The Daily Prophet had detailed a sordid affair of lies and treachery at the Malfoy Estate but, after fifth year, Harry had learned to take the articles in the Daily Prophet with a grain of salt. They never were very reliable, after all.

Still, the intensely lacking coverage of the mentioned event worried Harry. He unfolded the curling piece of newsprint once again to scan the words.

--MURDER AT MALFOY MANOR

Aurors were called, late last night, to the residence of the well-known and highly criticised Head of Department of Magical Health and Wellness, Draco Malfoy. A commotion could be heard from the master bedroom of the house and officials were alerted by concerned House-Elves. The servants resident at Malfoy Manor had an encounter with Ministry Officials earlier that night as well, when Lucius Malfoy was admitted to St. Mungo’s Hospital For Magical Maladies and Injuries. Details on his condition are, as of yet, unknown.

The Prophet has little information to provide on the exact conditions of the Malfoy case, at the moment. It is reported that Mr. Malfoy had an altercation with his wife, Hydra Malfoy (nee Krum). Aurors removed both concerned parties from the house and escorted them both to St. Mungo’s where they are currently being treated for unknown injuries.

Trial awaits both Draco Malfoy and his wife later this week. –

Nothing. The article gave no information whatsoever and essentially served to defame the Malfoy name in any further manner possible. It didn’t even mention an actual murder. Harry normally wouldn’t have thought twice about the matter, except for certain specific aspects.

Draco Malfoy would never physically attack his own family. Ever.

Harry knew this for a fact. He couldn’t explain it in detail, but the events nineteen years passed were enough to prove to him that Malfoy was simply not physically abusive. He was incapable of it. The most physical attack Harry had ever witnessed on Malfoy’s part was in sixth year when he stomped on Harry’s nose.

But that was only once Harry had been immobilized and alone. And they had hated each other.

Still did. Sometimes.

Harry shook himself of the thoughts. It was not possible. Malfoy would not have attacked his wife without reason. There had to be some better explanation. Furthermore, why had Lucius Malfoy been admitted to hospital? Surely that was why he had left Harry in such a hurry?

Harry shuddered. At this point, the entire Malfoy clan –save Scorpius –were residents of St. Mungo’s. He could not imagine how frightening it would be to him if his entire family was falling apart in that manner.

And yet, Harry’s family was having struggles of its own.

“Harry, you need to relax,” Ginny attempted to soothe him. “You getting all riled up this way isn’t going to help anything.”

Harry frowned.

“Well if you happen to know what will help,” he replied scathingly, much to his own displeasure. “Do tell, Gin. I would love to know.”

Ginny sighed heavily, which triggered a coughing fit. She pulled out a handkerchief she kept with her at all times now and coughed into that. Once it had subsided, Harry had stopped pacing and was giving her an anxious look. He felt responsible.

“You’ve already sent messages and gotten all the information you can,” she told him more sternly. “He doesn’t want your help, Harry.”

This was not true. Not necessarily.

As soon as Harry had read the article for the first time, he sent an owl to Malfoy. And then another. And possibly seventeen more over the following three days. He had even sent a Patronus message, hoping that it would bypass the hospital security and get to him, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure that Malfoy had received any of these letters at all. There had never been a reply.

Harry first and foremost jumped to the conclusion that the blond was so badly injured he was not conscious. Then, reconsidering the article’s suggestion that his trial was set for later in the week, he could not have been so hurt that he wasn’t awake. He would not have been able to stand trial.

He did not know what to think, at this point.

“Ginny you can’t know that,” he argued, returning to his pacing now that her coughing fit had ceased. “He hasn’t sent reply. That doesn’t mean much except perhaps that he can’t.”

She sighed again and brushed her long red hair out of her face. Her cheeks were unnaturally flushed and her eyes were more matte than usual. Harry bit his lip.

“I just don’t see why you need to anguish over him,” she admitted finally. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Harry bit back his anger before answering. He breathed heavily through his nose.

“How would you feel if you were suddenly caught in a battle with your family?” Harry shot at her. “Your pa –” he began, but caught himself, reminding himself that he had promised Malfoy not to mention his mother’s condition. He felt guilty for hiding it from Ginny but the woman’s safety did, apparently, seem to be an issue. “Your father is lying in the hospital, along with you and your partner. The two of you are at odds and you have to face a trial??” Harry exhaled and looked away. “He has no one else, Ginny.”

At this point she made a derisive sound and got to her feet.

“Maybe there’s a reason he has no one else, Harry!” she exclaimed, clearly past her breaking point. “Haven’t you considered that the only thing in common for his situation is HIM.”

Harry’s muscles tensed and he nearly lashed out at the furniture. He had to take a few moments to control himself. He was never proud of his nasty he could get when he was angered. He took a deep breath and turned back to her.

“You just don’t understand it from my perspective,” he told her. “There is something very wrong with this and I need to do something. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t and…” He sighed again. “I just have to.”

Ginny studied him for a moment or two, her eyes glassy. Harry pressed down the urge inside of him to apologize for everything and take it all back. He needed to do this. She would understand. He had to.

“You don’t have to,” she said quietly, emphasizing the verb. He took her arm and pulled her closer.

“You’ve always told me to do what is right,” he explained, looking into her brown eyes. “Haven’t you?”

“Clearly I was out of my mind at the time,” she mused softly. “And never would I have considered that ‘what was right’ would be helping Malfoy for anything.”

Harry allowed himself a small smile.

“No one should have to go through this,” he explained. “No matter how much of a git he is. It’s not right.”

“So what are you going to do?” she inquired, calming down.

“I’m going to his trial.”

*******

Draco stood alone in the centre of the Wizengamot court. He hated this room. Always had. The first time he had faced its endless alienation was to face the charges against him for Dumbledore’s death and taking part in Death Eater activities. He had been smaller and thinner then; starved for food and frightened into an anxious fast throughout his seventh year at Hogwarts. The Disciplinary Courts had seemed unfriendly and foreboding then and the feeling had not changed.

The only thing altered now was the fact that this time he literally was standing before a jury of his peers. His trial had been set immediately after Hydra’s. They had used Veritaserum on the both of them to obtain a statement prior to trial. Draco knew nothing of what Hydra had admitted, though he had many suspicions.

He, himself, knew by now how to fight off the truth potion, but he had not done so. There was no need and he felt it served his own purpose better if he told nothing but the truth.

And so, he stood in front of the Wizengamot, alone in the centre of the floor, wearing his best quality professional black robes and using the most powerful glamour that he could manage to cover the images of his injuries. He would not appear vulnerable unless it was demanded of him.

Draco heard the large doors behind him open and close, though he did not turn around. He had no interest in knowing who might have shown up to witness his public humiliation. He needed not know.

Finally, Kingsley Shacklebolt entered and took his seat as Minister to begin the session. He began the session just as he always did. It was procedure and Draco attempted to keep a calm composure. There was nothing calming, however, about hearing the charges laid.

“Mr. Draco Malfoy,” the Minister addressed him. Normally Shacklebolt had a very friendly demeanour, though when he went into court, his image and tone shifted to reflect the seriousness of the matters they dealt with. Draco had never liked the ‘court-Kingsley’. “You are charges with attempted murder of your father, Lucius Malfoy, attempted murder of your wife, Hydra Malfoy and murder of your House Elf, one Sneetch. Were you aware of these charges?”

“Yes,” he replied honestly. He thought them all to be absolutely offensive to his very being, but he was well aware of them.

Fifteen years ago there was never any question or mind if a wizard were to kill his House Elf. Then Hermione Granger came along and had several laws passed in the Ministry giving the little creatures designed for servitude many more freedoms and rights in the eyes of the law. To be accused of murder of a House Elf was now akin to being accused of murder of a goblin and thus required a full criminal trial. Something that vaguely amused Draco was that it was now more acceptable to kill a Werewolf than a House Elf, despite that the Werewolf is in fact a wizard.

“How do you plead?” he asked simply.

“Not guilty on the attempted murder of my father,” Draco began carefully. “Not guilty on the murder of Sneetch and not guilty by reason of self-defence on the attempted murder of my wife.”

Shacklebolt took down the notes while many in the Wizengamot jury, who had not yet been privy to his Veritaserum testimony, began muttering to one another like angry bees in a frenzy.

“You have given a statement under the influence of Veritaserum,” Shacklebolt began again. “Under the supervision of Aurors at St Mungo’s, did you not?”

“I did,” Draco responded mechanically. He knew it must come.

“The Veritaserum testimony shall be presented for the benefit of the court,” Shacklebolt ordered. A man in a pure white robe stepped forward and placed an ornate golden vase on the table that stood in front of Draco. He removed the stopper and tapped his wand to the side three times.

Draco’s somewhat hollow voice echoed throughout the room from somewhere inside the vase. He shuddered involuntarily as he listened to his own admissions.

“I left the house the morning of the thirtieth of September at near eight a.m.,” the vase recounted for him. “I had spoken with my father briefly on the subject of a project I have been involved in and bit him goodbye. When I left him he was still in good health, much as he always is. I ran into my wife on the way out and she asked me if I would be home for dinner that night. I thought it odd. She does not usually inquire on the subject but I answered yes, nonetheless.

“I spent my time at work dealing with the usual contents of my day. The full details are listed in my daily reports. At around five-fifteen I received a message from Mr. Harry Potter, asking to move up the meeting we had later that day from eight to six.” At this point there was an outbreak of more surprised mutters around the room. “I agreed and immediately firecalled my father to inform him that I would not be present at dinner.

“When I spoke to him then, he was, again, in the same condition as the morning.

“Mr. Potter and I travelled to Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade which is the usual location of our meetings. At around midnight I received message that my father had been admitted to St Mungo’s in critical condition. I immediately took leave of Mr. Potter and flooed into St Mungo’s.”

Draco sighed as he listened, the scenes replaying in his mind and wishing every moment that it had not happened at all. Hoping that it was simply some kind of nightmare that he could not escape. But he knew that it wasn’t and it was not going to go away.

His voice recounted all the details of his conversation with Luna and everything he had learned up until the point that he had pulled his wand on Hydra in bed.

“She gave me the most hateful look I had ever seen,” the voice from the vase admitted. “And admitted to me that she was surprised I thought enough of her to suspect her that far. I demanded to know why she attempted to murder my father and then myself. She did not deny either act, but simply told me that knowing the current conditions of my affairs, it would suit her better to have myself and parents killed in order to inherit all of the Malfoy assets. It seemed absurd to me as she has never lacked for anything, but I suppose my continued existence offended her in some way.”

“Let the court note that the last comment is simply speculation,” Shacklebolt interrupted the vase.

“I ordered her once more to drop her wand but she refused,” the voice said. “She held her wand to me in turn and shot a non-verbal spell at me. I flew backwards from the bed as I shot my own curse in her direction and soon the air was thick with flying spells and curses. The commotion must have awoken the House Elves. Sneetch came into the room to attend to the commotion. We were both distracted by his sudden appearance, but Hydra took the chance to attempt to kill me.” The voice wavered at this point very slightly. It was a break that was perhaps only perceptible to Draco himself, but it was there nonetheless. “Sneetch deferred the curse she sent and it hit him instead, at which point the Aurors broke through the Manor Wards and collected both of us.”

There was a long silence that followed the testimony as the vase’s voice died away and the Wizengamot was left in a stupor. There was a movement from behind Draco but he paid it no mind.

“What injuries did you suffer?” A voice from behind Shacklebolt questioned him. Draco looked into the faces but could not identify the source. “You do not appear to be injured at all.”

Draco shivered and, rather than respond, he looked at Shacklebolt who nodded to him. Then, he lifted his wand and waved it over his face, removing the glamour. The shock was formidable as a deep gasp rushed over the crowd of his peers.

His face was swollen on the left side and he sported a deep black eye. The bruising would not disappear for another week. His lip was cut and stitched but the wounds were magically made and much more difficult to treat. The white of his right eye was no longer white but deep red, emphasizing the grey of his iris and making him look much more like a creature than a wizard.

“Is this the extent of the damage?” another witch asked. Draco shook his head.

“No,” he replied and this time gingerly removed his outer-robes. Beneath them he wore, uncharacteristically, a sleeveless black tunic shirt over black trousers, in order to reveal his arms. All along them were the unmistakeable burns that spread from fiendfyre. The burns spread under his tunic and, though none in the court could see it, over much of the rest of his body.

Another wave of gasps erupted throughout his peers as they gaped and muttered to one another about what they saw and what it potentially meant.

“But your wife had few wounds at all,” a wizard remarked. Draco knew he should recognize more of these people but he attributed his lack of acknowledgement to his stress. “Did you not attack her in return?”

“I did not,” he replied, much to everyone’s shock. “I used mainly defensive spells and weak curses in order to immobilize her.” He paused and bit his tongue, knowing he had to admit to the final curse he’d used. “Until she murdered Sneetch, at which point I used a more powerful curse. It did minimal damage to her as the Aurors intervened.”

“Why did you not attack her earlier or with a more powerful curse?” another voice, more soothing this time, came. “She clearly intended to kill you, self-defence is evident.”

Draco considered telling the truth for a moment but decided against it. This time the truth would not save him, but rather condemn him.

“No matter what she is,” he lied calmly. “She is still the mother of my son.”

The muttering began once more, much to Draco’s aggravation. He did not wait for permission but replaced his robes and recast the glamour over his face. The rumble slowed and stopped a Shacklebolt regained control over the jury.

“Your wife’s testimony has supported your own,” Shacklebolt proclaimed. “In all respects except your whereabouts between five-forty-five and midnight. Are there any witnesses to this event?”

“Yes,” a voice came from behind Draco very suddenly. He refused to turn around. He simply refused.

“Witness for the defence?” Shacklebolt asked, merely for the sake of procedure as he clearly knew the person. “State your full name for the record.”

“Harry James Potter.”

------

A/N: Now I'm sure you saw that coming, but I'll have the next chapter up in a few hours of course. I fell behind today with my writing so I have to write another two chapters tonight. If I can manage. It'll be insane. Yes. Ah well.

Also... Question, question, who's got the question? :p LOTS of questions will be popping up soon. One, for example, is WHY did Draco not fight back? Why didn't he just kill Hydra? Or at least.... make her go 'splody or anything. And several others. Hopefully I won't go all scatterbrained and not answer one of them but just kick me if I do that, mmkay? Yay.

I want to apologize for the messed up spelling. Parts are written at work which has Canadian/British English programmed onto the computer and parts are written at home which has US English and sometimes Canadian so.... if things like defense change to defence, it's not a mistake, just different spelling and my being an idiot. Please excuse! :D

I think that's all for now. Hope you enjoy!

Reviews are love, as always, you know me. I'm full of loooove.