Of Words and Witnesses

Rhianna Burke sat at a heavy wooden table in a dimly lit dungeon. Her eyes were closed, but her lips were mouthing words that only she could hear as she mentally rehearsed her closing argument. She knew it cold, as the saying went, but that didn’t prevent her from going over it one last time. In the end, it wouldn’t be evidence that won or lost a case, though evidence was compelling.

No, it all came down to words, which was the reason she had become a barrister. It was her words that held the jury enthralled, her carefully crafted speech that impelled the desired action more surely than an Imperius Curse. It was this intoxicating power that drove her to stand in front of the Wizengamot time and again, and over many a congratulatory toast she had been known to proclaim, “The purest form of magic is performed in the courtroom.”

She pictured herself toasting her victory tonight, finally satisfied that she was as prepared as she could possibly be for the conclusion of this trial. She opened her eyes, looked at the heavy gold watch on her slender wrist, then began to place her papers into her slim leather case. Behind her, she heard a click and turned as the door into the dungeon swung open.

Two guards entered the room and brought with them her client, their wands carefully trained on him. Rhianna nodded to the guards, who escorted their prisoner to a chair and sat him down none too gently. As they left, one of the men said, “You have ten minutes, Ms. Burke.” Again, she silently nodded, then looked over at her client as the door clanged shut.

She regarded him thoughtfully as she finished clearing away her paperwork. She had known this man sitting quietly beside her for many years - since their days at Hogwarts, in fact. He had graduated two years ahead of her and she doubted he had known her name back then, though they were both in Slytherin House.

She had known him, of course - after all, what respectable witch or wizard had not heard the name Malfoy? When the opportunity arose for her to defend him, she did not hesitate. She immediately stepped forward to offer her services, though it had been thirty years since she first ardently admired his handsome aristocratic features, his pure bloodline, and the strong alliances that the name Malfoy inspired, owing in no small part to the immense fortune connected to that family name.

And yet, she would be hard-pressed to recognize that Lucius Malfoy as the man sitting in this chill, desolate dungeon. His blonde hair hung limply on the slumped shoulders that had now replaced his once proud bearing. There were darkened shadows underneath his pale, sunken eyes, and the tattered robe he wore only enhanced the image of a man who had fallen far - and knew it. Here was living proof that no transfiguration spell could change a man more completely than the hell this man had been through after the Battle at Hogwarts and the final defeat of Voldemort.

Rhianna shook away the sobering thought, reached for the goblet of water in front of her and took a sip from it before speaking.

“Mr. Malfoy, only a few scant hours and this reprehensible nightmare shall be at an end,” she said firmly, tucking a stray strand of red hair behind her ear as she leaned forward to catch his eye. “You have made it this far through the trial, now trust me to see you through to its proper conclusion. Once we enter the courtroom, all eyes will again be on you. Though most likely all questions of you have already been asked, let me repeat my earlier cautions: Do not let the Wizengamot see any contempt or defiant expression on your face, and refuse to give in to the temptation to answer any question in a manner that does not convey the utmost respect - no matter what the question or what is said about you or your family.”

He waved a hand at her in acknowledgement. “I quite understand, Ms. Burke,” he said, with a faint trace of irritation. “I do not intend to spend one moment on that Merlin-forsaken chunk of rock. I would almost rather serve my time with that half-breed oaf, Hagrid, in the primitive hut he calls a “house” than in Azkaban, though neither location is appealing. Rest assured, I need no cautions.”

“Good. Exactly what I want to hear,” Rhianna declared, as she pushed back her chair and stood. She went to the door and knocked on it, signalling to the guards that she was ready to leave. The guards opened the door and assisted Lucius to his feet, then led him into the hallway past Courtroom Eight and Courtroom Nine before coming to a stop in front of the grimy dark door of Courtroom Ten. Before the heavy iron door handle was turned, Rhianna looked at Lucius one final time. She smiled confidently and said, “This is it. Hold your head up high, Mr. Malfoy, you’re about to become a free man.”

The guard opened the door, and barrister and client, flanked by the guards, proceeded into the bleak stone room, lit by flickering torches along the walls. The murmuring and muttering from the crowd that lined the benches on the either side trailed off as they turned to watch Lucius Malfoy and Rhianna Burke make their way to the high benches at the front of the room.

Off to the side, Rita Skeeter’s blonde curls were highly visible as her acid-green quill scribbled furiously. Rhianna frowned at her, knowing the Daily Prophet reporter still lived to make trouble, even after the tragedy and devastation the wizarding community had experienced. And, as Rita’s eyes travelled over Ms. Burkes elegant, trim figure in her viridian-coloured tailored robes and height that showed her to be every bit as tall as her client, Rhianna could practically see the vile thoughts running through the reporter’s mind - speculations that perhaps Narcissa Malfoy wasn’t aware that her husband’s barrister was so beautiful, or that the two were almost certainly meeting to do more than discuss defense strategies.

No matter, thought Rhianna, If that rubbish appears in the Daily Prophet, I will deal with her. Pushing aside that happy thought for the moment, she focused on her client as the guards escorted him to the chair in the middle of the room. Lucius sat down and clenched his jaw as the gold chains glowed and snaked around his wrists, securely binding him to the chair.

The guards left and Rhianna moved to sit on a bench to Lucius’ right. She scanned to crowd, trying to get a feel for the mood in the room. At that moment, the Interrogator presiding over Mr. Malfoy’s trial - none other than Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt - called the court into session.

“If the defense is ready, let us begin,” he said briskly. He looked over at the Court Scribe, Ernie Macmillan, whose quill hovered over his parchment, preparing to take notes.

“Yes, Minister, ready, sir,” Ernie said promptly, sitting up even straighter with a pompous look to his face. His behaviour never failed to amuse Rhianna, who found his seriousness quite comical. Still, he’s a definite improvement over Percy Weasley, she thought wryly.

“Very well, then. I call into session the Criminal Hearing for Mr. Lucius Malfoy, of Wiltshire, England, on this second day of July,” he stated, then continued on in deep, slow voice, “Interrogators: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic and Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Office. Court Scribe is Ernie Macmillan. Representing the defense is Ms. Rhianna Elaine Burke.”

Ernie finished recording, then looked up expectantly, his fingers bearing the first splashes of ink. The Minister rifled through some pages until he found the one he was looking for. He held it up, saying, “Lucius Malfoy, you are here today so that we the Wizengamot may decide whether or not you should be sent to Azkaban or allowed to remain in wizarding society. We will listen to the information provided by an additional witness who has come forward on your behalf, then Ms. Burke will speak her closing argument. After which time, the jury will take a vote and your fate will be decided. Do you have any questions for the Wizengamot, Mr. Malfoy? No? Then let us proceed. Ms. Burke, you may now call your witness.”

Rhianna stood and, in a strong, clear voice, said, “Mr. Harry James Potter.”

There was a collective gasp from those gathered on the benches around the room, and heads swivelled in all directions until they lit upon the young man with untidy black hair making his way down to the floor. He was calm and confident as he stood next to Lucius Malfoy. He looked up into the dark, concerned eyes of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

“Harry Potter? Ms. Burke, what is the meaning of this?” Kingsley demanded. “Harry Potter cannot possibly be the witness you summoned to give evidence on Mr. Malfoy’s behalf!”

“If I may, Minister,” Rhianna interjected smoothly, “Actually, he can. He has interacted with my client several times over the years and can personally testify as to my client’s behaviour during the Final Battle. His evidence is allowable and, indeed, it is crucial that his statement be heard.”

Kingsley stared at her shrewdly, his eyes thoughtful. He began to speak, but was forced to stop due to the commotion as the crowd eagerly discussed this latest development. Taking up his wand and aiming it towards his throat, he spoke the word “Sonorus!”

“I will have silence in this courtroom, or it will be cleared!” he announced sternly, and his booming voice reverberated throughout the room. People jumped and a few squeaks of fear escaped their surprised owners. As silence filled the room once more, the Minister returned his attention to Rhianna.

“Quietus,” he murmured, then set his wand aside. “Ms. Burke, Harry Potter endured much torture, both physical and mental, at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, not the least of whom was Lucius Malfoy. If I think you are at any time trying to exploit that in order to benefit your client, you may very well end up in Azkaban before your client does. Is that clear?”

“Yes, of course, Minister,” Rhianna meekly replied. She wasn’t the least bit cowed, but it was an act that served its purpose with the jury. They were now sympathetic to her, having been talked down to by the Minister of Magic, no less. She inwardly smirked, but presented a chastised face to the jury before she turned to Harry Potter.

“May I offer you a chair, sir?” she asked him, and neatly conjured up a solid-looking wooden chair with cushioned seat. He sat easily, his eyes on her as she stood before him.

“Mr. Potter, thank you for appearing in this courtroom today,” she started off politely. “As our Minister has rightly stated, your being here could not have been easy for you, as your interactions with my client has been less than amicable through the years. Would you please tell the jury the reason you felt it necessary to come forward? What actions by my client have you seen over the many years of your acquaintance that bring you here to speak on behalf of Mr. Malfoy?

Harry cleared his throat a few times, then looked over at the jury. “I am here because I can assure you that the Final Battle might have ended quite differently had it not been for the actions of Lucius Malfoy and his wife Narcissa Malfoy.”

“Really, Mr. Potter?” Rhianna asked him, her green eyes wide. “How can that be possible? You have long had first hand knowledge that Mr. Malfoy was a secret follower of the Dark Lord, and even one of his inner circle.” She held out her hands in a questioning manner as she looked at him quizzically. “How could such a loyal follower have helped bring about the death of his master?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw people around the room nodding and whispering to their neighbours, who shushed them in order to better hear Harry Potter’s answer. They leaned forward slightly in anticipation.

The adrenaline began to pulse through Rhianna’s veins. The magic was beginning - this was the part she lived for, when the audience was fully engaged and involved, not realizing it was all due to her skilful, expert manipulations. She had them.

Harry said firmly and with conviction, “Lucius Malfoy did not participate in the Final Battle at Hogwarts. He left Voldemort’s side, though his master was under attack, and ran to the castle in an effort to find his son, Draco.

There was a motion to Shacklebolt’s left. “The Chair recognizes Gawain Robards, head of the Auror Office,” the Minister stated.

A stern-looking man with thinning brown hair and a round face leaned forward. “I would like to ask a question of the witness. Mr. Potter, how can you say that the battle might have ended quite differently if not for Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy’s actions on the battlefield?”

Harry did not hesitate. “ Lucius Malfoy was seen by myself the night of the battle, trying to convince the Dark Lord to call off the battle, enter the castle, and seek me himself. He had been beaten and bruised, but still he was concerned only for his son, Draco. I believe he wanted Voldemort to die so that his son, Draco, might be saved from the carnage raging around all of us that were there that night. When Voldemort aimed the Killing Curse at me, he sent Narcissa Malfoy to make certain I was dead. She lied to Voldemort, telling him that I was dead in order to be allowed into the castle as victors so that she could find her only child.”

The crowd erupted in loud, excited talk as members turned to one another to discuss this startling revelation. The sound ran across the courtroom in waves that finally ebbed as the Minister restored order, his deep voice calling for silence. Running his hands over his bald head, he requested for Ms. Burke to continue.

Rhianna came to a standstill in front of Lucius Malfoy, and gestured towards him. “Mr. Potter, one final question: Is there anything you have seen over the years that that would lead you to believe Mr. Lucius Malfoy is not a good father to his one and only son?”

Harry sat quietly for a moment, then said, “I went to school with Draco Malfoy, and had several opportunities to see him together with his father. I have to admit that I didn’t like them much, and avoided them if at all possible - even to point of hiding in a large cabinet in Borgin and Burkes. My very first time to Floo, I missed the grate for Diagon Alley, ending up in Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley instead. Mr. Malfoy and Draco entered, not knowing I was hiding from them. But, the entire time there, Mr. Malfoy constantly made sure Draco didn’t touch anything, knowing things in there were extremely dangerous. At one point, Mr. Borgin tried to sell Draco the Hand of Glory, saying it was the best friend of thieves and plunderers, and that Draco had fine taste. Mr. Malfoy replied that his son would amount to much more than that.

Also, when Draco wanted to be on the Slytherin House Quidditch Team, Mr. Malfoy made sure he got a spot on the team by purchasing all of the players brand-new broomsticks, and Mr. Malfoy did manage to come to several of the Quidditch games when his son was playing Seeker. Another time, when Draco was injured in a care of Magical Creatures class, Mr. Malfoy immediately called for the execution of the creature that was responsible.”

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, admitting, “As I said before, I never liked Draco or Lucius Malfoy, but the fact is, when all was said and done, Mr. Malfoy’s only thought during the battle was not for his Dark Lord; his one and only concern was the safety of his son. He abandoned Voldemort, and his wife saved my life, because that’s what had to be done in order to ensure Draco’s safety. I believe Mr. Malfoy, no matter what else he may have been, has been a good father to his son.”

Rhianna smiled brilliantly. “Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Potter. You are free to go.”

Harry stood up. He looked at Lucius, then turned and headed back to the benches, as Rita Skeeter sucked on the end of her acid-green quill, and set it to writing again, while a low murmuring filled the air.

“You may now make your closing argument, Ms. Burke,” intoned the Minister.

“Thank you, Minister,” Rhianna answered. She stood before the benches, relishing the spotlight. She was alone now; it was up to her, and the power of her words. She closed her eyes for a moment, then prepared to weave a spell around the jurors as invisible as a spider’s web, though they would be caught in it just the same.

She opened her eyes and they blazed like emeralds. She tucked that rebellious strand of red hair back behind her ear, and began to recite with feeling her long-memorized closing argument:

“Wizards and witches, esteemed members of the Wizengamot, Interrogators, and Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, I come before you to request that my client, Mr. Lucius Malfoy, not be sent to Azkaban.

Earlier this week, you have heard from several witnesses who claim that this man deserves Azkaban, that his merely being a follower of Voldemort demands the highest punishment this court can mete out. I certainly understand the rationale and the emotions behind these demands. We as a community have suffered deep wounds and losses at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters that no amount of time may heal completely. Yet I am here to say unequivocally that Lucius Malfoy suffered just as much at the hands of Voldemort as did those that fought against him.

How can that be, you ask? I speak truly, dear jury, when I tell you that Lucius Malfoy was not a servant of Voldemort; he was a slave. He chose to become a Death Eater of his own free will, yes, but, my fellow witches and wizards, the Dark Lord was not one to let his once faithful followers just “leave” his inner circle. The choice was to serve or to die; there were no other options. I remind this esteemed body of wizards of the deaths of Regulus Black and Igor Karkaroff - both Death Eaters who tried and, sadly, failed to extract themselves from the evil depths to which they had sunk by choosing to follow one who deals harshly with followers and traitors alike.

Unlike Lucius Malfoy, however, both these men, Black and Karkaroff, were unmarried wizards with no children, and had nothing to lose by risking escape. Nothing, I remind you, but death. And death is what they received.

Mr. Malfoy is a married man with one son. It was for the sake of his wife and his son, and for them alone, that Mr. Malfoy chose to stay in the servitude of his Dark Lord. He would not have been risking his own life by running - oh, no - death would have come for all of them.

But the night of the battle at Hogwarts, my client decided that his son, his family, was worth any sacrifice. He chose to cut the chains that bound his will to his Dark Lord and he abandoned Voldemort. He tore off his Death Eater mask and became a man again.

You may well wonder why my client has not spoken on his own behalf today, and I say it is because his actions have spoken for him - eloquently and succinctly. You have heard from a witness of high standing in our community who has personally witnessed actions by my client time and time again that speak to the value that Mr. Malfoy places on family, and Mr. Potter said in no uncertain terms that Mr. Lucius Malfoy was a good parent to his only son, Draco.

That is the true Lucius Malfoy. He comes before the Wizengamot to be tried for being a Death Eater, but I remind the court that the man behind the Death Eater’s mask is a husband and a father who loves his son so much that he would turn against Voldemort, thereby risking his own life and safety. This is a father who encourages his son in his undertakings and so bought his son’s entire House Quidditch team top notch brooms, and even went to watch his son play Seeker.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, making direct eye contact with many. Their expressions were rapt, and they hung on her every word. Time to move in for the kill.

“Lucius Malfoy has served his time in a prison far worse than Azkaban. I say he should be released, because to keep this man away from his family and his only son, is far and away too harsh a punishment. So many families have been ripped asunder at the hands of Voldemort; let us not add one more to that casualty list. He has acknowledged his mistakes in choosing to serve one so wholly undeserving of his loyalty. He needs to be with his son, Draco and wife, Narcissa. Do not keep them apart any longer. Send this man home to his family.”

She bowed her head and wiped a tear from her eye that surprised even her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

She bowed before the Wizengamot and moved to sit at her place on the bench. The courtroom was quiet and still, then it was as if the members all turned their faces as one towards the Minister. Shacklebolt nodded his head, leaned towards Gawain Robards to share a few brief words, then asked, “Those in favour of releasing Mr. Lucius Malfoy from custody and allowing him to return to wizarding society?”

Hands immediately shot up into the air from all across the Wizengamot, and as the Minister looked about him, he asked, “Those not in favour of releasing Mr. Malfoy?”

A few hands here and there were raised, but the vote of the majority was obvious….

“Mr. Lucius Malfoy, you are hereby released from custody. Court is dismissed.”

Mr. Shacklebolt briefly shook Lucius Malfoy’s hand, then exited the courtroom, as did Gawain Robards, though a bitter few left immediately in disgust. Rhianna was not bothered by them; she had won and that was all that mattered. Retrieving her leather case, she went to Lucius’ side in time to see the chains slither off his wrists. He sat there rubbing them, then stood up slowly.

Harry Potter approached Lucius, with his hand held out. Lucius shook it and drawled, “I owe you my thanks. I will not forget what you’ve done for me here today.”

Harry replied, “You’re welcome, but all I did was tell the truth. I don’t like you or Draco.” He grinned, then added, “And I’ve been told to ask you to remind Draco that he owes Ron Weasley his life twice over.”

His grin fading, he said, “Mr. Malfoy, I did this for your wife. She risked her life to save mine that night, and she did it for her son. I admire and respect her for that. My mother did the same for me, but was not so fortunate. It was the least I could do to come and speak on your behalf.”

He shook Rhianna’s hand, then left the courtroom, leaving a stunned but surprisingly grateful Lucius Malfoy in his wake.

“Well, Mr. Malfoy, you’re a free man, having escaped Azkaban for what? Your third time?” Rhianna smirked, as she started for the door. Lucius walked beside her, and said, “Thanks to you and your gifted speaking skills, Ms. Burke.”

“That’s why you’ve kept me on your retainer, Mr. Malfoy,” Rhianna laughed as she started down the dim corridor and up the stairs to level nine. She turned when she realized he had stopped walking, and was merely standing there, apparently deep in thought.

“Galleon for your thoughts, Mr. Malfoy,” Rhianna said lightly. Mr. Malfoy slowly made his way over to her before speaking.

“As much as I regret saying it, Ms. Burke, I will not be needing your talents in the courtroom in the future,” he said seriously, and Rhianna turned to look at him as she pushed the button to summon the lift.

“I should hope not,” she said simply. “Because if you ever serve another dark wizard, Mr. Malfoy, I will gladly use my gifted speaking skills to prosecute you, then personally escort you to Azkaban. Your wife and son, Mr. Malfoy, are the only ones who have ever deserved your loyalty.”

The lift arrived with a clatter and they stepped into it. As the door closed, Lucius said, “Yes, Ms. Burke, I must say I quite agree.”



***


The testimony of Harry Potter describing the visit to Borgin and Burkes is based on the scene from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by JK Rowling, US Edition.