When Lucius Malfoy asked me to be his attorney, I had no choice but to accept. Actually… I suppose I did have a choice, seeing that it wouldn’t exactly have put Lucius in the best light if he’d threatened me while on trial, or anything like that. But the choice I had, frankly, came down to money. In fact, I find that a lot of choices come down to money in today’s legal system”not the least of which was the choice to let Mr Malfoy walk free.
But I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. See, it all started one fine morning, not long after the defeat of You-Know-Who”Voldemort, I mean. Yes, not long after the defeat of Voldemort.
It was on this said morning that I awoke to an all-too-familiar sound grating against my ears. Tap. Tap. I grumbled and rolled over in my bed as a persistent pecking noise continued. Opening one eye just wide enough to see my glowing bedside clock, I groaned into my pillow. Five o’clock. Who on earth would be sending me an owl at such an ungodly hour?
Picking up my wand, I pointed it in the general direction of the window and mumbled a quick charm to open it. A large, very handsome owl stepped on to the sill, hooting softly. It was clear that the bird had no intentions of bringing the letter to my bedside; it seemed, through my bleary eyes, to be quite arrogant (if indeed an owl can be such). So I jabbed my wand in its direction and said, “Accio letter.”
If I may say so myself, I have always demonstrated great prowess when it comes to Summoning Charms; therefore, it came as no surprise when the letter came hurtling toward me through midair. What did come as a surprise, however, was the spiraling bundle of beak and feathers attached to the letter that bowled me back over in my bed.
“Sorry,” I told the disgruntled owl sheepishly as I untied the letter from his leg. I usually would have used a severing charm, but decided that it just might be best to do things manually right now.
As soon as I freed the letter, the owl turned its back haughtily and soared to the top of my dresser. I should have known then that this was Lucius Malfoy’s owl”what other bird would behave like that?”but at the present moment I was simply disgruntled at having been awoken so very early.
With fumbling fingers, I began to open the letter. If someone had to send me an owl so early in the morning, I figured that it must be for a very good reason. And besides, I was already awake anyway. Leaving the owl sitting atop my armoire with its back to me, I stuffed the half-open letter into the pocket of my crumpled jeans”I had worked late last night after all, so you can’t expect me to have changed”and made my way to my apartment’s little kitchenette.
After I had made my instant coffee and buttered a few slices of toast, I sat down at the breakfast table (my rear end barely missing my cat, who had been sleeping on the chair) and pulled out the letter and began to read.
Dear Mr Bailey:
I know we have never corresponded in the past, but I’m sure you have heard of me. My name is Lucius Malfoy, and I believe that I require your services as an attorney in my upcoming trial. One of my acquaintances recommended you, and frankly I have somehow been unable to contact any of my regular attorneys. I am willing to pay whatever fees you desire; money is of no concern. Please send your answer back with my owl as soon as possible.
Thank you,
Lucius Malfoy
By the time I had finished reading the brief message, I was gasping for air. I’m sure it had more to do with the fact that I had taken a much-too-large gulp of scalding hot coffee, but in any case I was stunned. Of course I had heard of Lucius Malfoy”I had heard of him even long before his first arrest received so much publicity from the Daily Prophet. He was famous”or infamous, depending on your point of view”and likely the wealthiest man in all of Britain. Me, lawyer for Lucius Malfoy?
My initial delight, however, was smothered almost immediately. This would be a big job”perhaps exactly what a struggling young attorney needed”but did I really want to defend a known Death Eater? Besides, why on earth would he select me of all people? Me, when there were dozens of better-qualified (and probably just plain better) lawyers out there than me?
I knew enough about the Malfoys to know that Lucius would only take the best. Now, I am many things, not all of them good, but one thing I am not is delusional. I certainly was not, and am not, the best attorney in the field… So why did Mr Lucius Malfoy want me? A friend’s recommendation? What friend would recommend me when I had yet to win a single case?
Then, as I reread the letter (my second slice of toast all but forgotten with this exciting new development) it struck me. “I have been unable to contact any of my regular attorneys.” Of course. So everyone else had decided to turn down this job.
Pushing aside my coffee, I sighed deeply and drummed my fingers against the table. So nobody else wanted to defend scum like Malfoy; that was why he contacted me. Then again, maybe all the other lawyers just thought this case a lost cause. And if I could win it… Why, that would put me at the top of my field. Besides, Mr Malfoy all but invited me to demand whatever price I wanted to. Certainly I would be able to make enough to solve my financial problems for quite some time.
It was decided. I would take the case. With a surge of excitement, I downed the rest of my lukewarm coffee before turning to head to my room. As an afterthought, I grabbed my now-cold, uneaten piece of toast to give to the owl; he may have been rude, but he was probably hungry as well.
As soon as I reached my bedroom, I grabbed a quill and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment. Carefully, using my best penmanship and most professional diction, I wrote out a brief response to the request. Yes, I had heard of Mr Lucius Malfoy, and yes, I would be more than happy to take on his case. As an afterthought, I added a brief list of the three times this week I would be available. Of course, I actually had no clients this week, but I decided it would be best if he thought I was a very busy man. Nearly brimming with self-satisfaction, I folded the letter carefully and tied it securely to the owl’s leg.
With a surge of happiness, I watched as the owl hooted once before soaring out the window and toward the rising sun. Grabbing the slice of toast that the bird had not quite finished, I stuffed it into my mouth before falling backwards onto the bed and into a deep, contented sleep.
My first meeting with Mr Malfoy went smoothly; I was most relieved that he was free on bail, as I was terrified of having to visit him in prison. Actually, I briefly considered how very important I would seem if I came to Azkaban to talk to him, but as word had not yet reached my ears that the Dementors had been dismissed, I was quite happy just to meet him in my dingy little office in London.
As the date for the trial began to loom, I quickly grew quite obsessed with what had become the biggest case of my life. I was waking up early and going home late (and eating very extravagant meals in the meantime, writing them off as business expenses to Mr Malfoy). While I certainly did not like my client, I quickly found that he was easy to work with and very well paying. I had an early night the eve on the trial, and therefore I awoke feeling confident and presently refreshed on the big day.
I Flooed to the Ministry of Magic a full hour before the trial was scheduled to begin. Feeling immensely important in my business robes with an albeit empty briefcase clutched in my hand, I strode twice around the Atrium”looking quite impressive, might I add”before realising that I was attracting several strange stares. I double-checked to make sure that my robes were properly fastened before retiring to one of the benches near the fountain.
A mere fifteen minutes before noon, just as I was finishing up the ice cream I had purchased from the snack bar, I was alerted to the presence of a tall man emerging from the far fireplace. His white-blond hair and haughty features were unmistakable; rising to my feet, I immediately moved forward to greet him.
“Mr Malfoy,” I said politely. The man did not respond; his cool grey gaze lingered on my face with a look of cold distain. Realising instantly what was the matter, I raised my hand to my mouth and wiped away some ice cream residue with the palm of my hand. Then, I stuck it forward as professionally as possible.
Lucius did not deign to shake it. Feeling rather foolish, as I did very often when in his presence, I allowed my sticky hand to drop to my side. “Nervous?” I asked him conversationally. “Don’t be. I’ve won more cases than you can shake your wand at, so””
“I don’t doubt that,” drawled my client dryly, “considering that the Ministry has confiscated my wand.”
I was used to his snide comments by now; I had come to realize that they were usually correct, if rather cruel. Dear, things were not going well today”and the trial hadn’t even begun. “Well,” I said in an attempt to change the subject, “let’s get going, shall we?”
I was reminded forcibly of my first date; I, nervous but eager to please, and she”er, he”cool and dismissive as ever. I have to admit, though, that the man kept his composure. Mr Malfoy’s face was a mask of calm; he seemed rather uptight, though, but that was his normal behavior. His cloak swirling behind him impressively, Lucius swept to the nearest lift with me trailing and dithering behind him.
The lifts were crowded at the lunch hour, and stopped at almost every floor. Squashed up against the wall, I glanced at my watch approximately every five seconds. Finally, finally, we arrived on the lowest floor. By now it was only Lucius and myself in the elevator; walking quickly to keep up with his longer stride, I allowed him to lead the way to the courtroom.
At precisely eleven fifty-nine, Lucius Malfoy burst into the courtroom with great dignity. I, on the other hand, was sweating profusely and puffing for air. Many a pair of hard eyes followed us we took our seats. “Mr Lucius Mafoy,” I managed to say, “and defense attorney Archibald Bailey, both present.”
Standing up from his chair, the bailiff began to speak. “Now, let the trial of Mr Lucius Malfoy versus the Ministry of Magic of the Great Britain commence.”
I flinched slightly. It sounded so one-sided; one man against the entire government? I shook the thought from my mind. Positive, I told myself, think positive.
As the bailiff began to read off the various charges (there seemed to be rather more than I remembered), I took the opportunity to look about the room”or, to put it accurately, the dungeon. It was a dark torch-lit chamber, with high stone bleachers that were, mercifully, empty save for ten purple-robed witches and wizards. A rather large, straight-backed chair sat in the center of the courtroom, but it was dusty with disuse; clearly, the Ministry had decided to discontinue use of this intimidating-looking device.
I was not familiar with the witch presiding over the proceedings, but I did recognize the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, sitting in the chair next to her. I gulped. Sure, I’d known that this would be a high profile case… but the Minister of Magic?
All too soon, the trial began. Fidgeting nervously in my cold, hard seat”how easy would it have been for them to conjure up a few cushions”I watched in apprehension as Mr Malfoy was called up to the stand.
“Please state your name and residence for the record.” The bailiff had a high, nasal voice that irritated me immensely. I was so busy being annoyed that I almost missed hearing my client’s answer.
“Lucius Abraxas Malfoy of Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.”
“And do you, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, swear that the testimony you are about to give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
“I do.”
“You may be seated.”
The prosecution, it appeared, would be speaking first. I sighed slightly in relief”for I hated being the one to open the questioning”but the feeling was short-lived.
Before long, I was all but cringing in my seat. To Lucius’ credit, he was answering all the questions very well, with composure and dignity that I could not help but admire. But as the evidence rolled out against him, I could see my carefully constructed defense begin to crumble before my very eyes.
And so the time came for me to conduct the cross-examination. I was no longer nervous; that particular emotion had been replaced by the kind of heavy-hearted melancholy a lawyer gets when he knows he is to lose a case. However, I somehow managed to ask Lucius the right questions at the right times, and was slightly heartened to hear him recite the answers with such (apparent) sincerity that a few jury members appeared”dare I believe it?”convinced.
Feeling much better about things now, I confidently wrapped up my questioning and turned to the head of the Wizengamot”although, I recalled, it was no longer called the Wizengamot. “Ma’am, if I may now call in my witness?”
The witch nodded, gesturing to the bailiff to fetch the witness from outside. I smiled grimly to myself. I was about to play my trump card, my wild card. This would either win the case, or lose it”and I fervently hoped the former.
“Calling in a witness for the defense.” A high voice announced the bailiff’s reentrance to the room. This time, however, he was accompanied by someone else.
A murmur ran through the watching witches and wizards as the tall young man walked quietly into the room, his hair pressed flat against his forehead to hide the lightning-bolt scar it bore. But there was no mistaking the messy black hair, the round wire-rimmed glasses, those dazzling emerald green eyes. Harry James Potter was here.
“Harry James Potter here,” said the boy quietly. “Resident of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, formerly of Number Four Privet Drive.” His bright green eyes met mine momentarily, but I could tell that they were carefully avoiding the cold grey ones of my client.
As soon as Potter took his seat, I rose to my feet. I gave him what I hoped was an encouraging smile; after all, he had been so very reluctant to testify. I had been half-afraid that he would change his mind… but by now, I knew that when Mr Potter agreed to something, he would most certainly carry through.
It appeared that everyone in the room, save for the Minister of Magic, Mr Malfoy, and myself, was awestruck”oh, I’ll admit it, I was awestruck as well. But I kept my composure. Feeling very important indeed to have secured such an excellent witness, I puffed out my chest proudly and looked about the room before clearing my throat to begin.
“Now, Mr Potter, I believe you encountered my client several times during your trials and tribulations against You-Know-Who?”
“Voldemort,” said Harry quietly. “Call him Voldemort.”
Whatever response I had expected, it had certainly not been this. “I”ah…” Deciding to ignore his request, I pressed on. “You saw Mr Malfoy several times during the war?”
Lucius twitched ever so slightly in his seat.
“Yes, I did,” answered the boy. “I saw him once at the graveyard the night Cedric Diggory was killed. I fought him in the Ministry of Magic the day Sirius Black was murdered. I was imprisoned in his house by Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix Lestrange. And I saw him the night Voldemort was defeated.”
Perhaps bringing in Potter had not been a good idea, after all. Several of the jurors were looking at my client with distaste; hurriedly, I rearranged my notes before turning my gaze back to the witness.
“The night Voldemort was defeated. Do you remember what my client was doing at that time? Killing Muggle-borns? Casting Unforgivable Curses? Chatting with You-Know”V-voldemort?”
One of the witches in the front row gasped. The Minister of Magic had an unreadable expression on his face.
Harry glanced momentarily at my client. Lucius’ murderous glare certainly wasn’t helping things, I thought, but there wasn’t much I could do about that. “Well, Mr Potter? What misdeeds was my client up to that night?”
“None.” Harry was obviously fighting a violent internal struggle. “He was looking for his son.”
“His son, who orchestrated the murder of Albus Dumbledore?” The barrister of the prosecution had risen to his feet. “Draco Malfoy, who was branded with the Dark Mark just as his father was?”
“Draco Malfoy has been cleared of all charges,” I interrupted loudly. “And his guilt”or lack thereof”is not the issue of this trial!”
The preside witch nodded slowly. “Mr. Bailey is correct,” she said. “You may carry on.”
“Now,” I continued, feeling rather pleased, “Mr Potter. You say that Mr Malfoy was looking for his son that night. He was not behaving like a Death Eater would, he was behaving like a concerned father. Am I correct?”
Potter nodded. I smiled happily.
“Then I do not see what the problem is here. Lucius,” I said, turning to my client, “you do not deny that you engaged in certain Death Eater-ly activities throughout the course of the war. But it was not voluntary”it was the only way you could save your wife and child, yes?”
“You have already had your chance to interview the defendant. Mr Potter is at the stand now, so kindly address your questions to him.” The presiding witch’s voice was brittle.
Feeling chagrined, I scratched the back of my neck nervously before continuing. “I”ah”yes. Mr Potter, you tell me that the wife of the accused actually saved your life the day of You-Know-Who’s defeat?”
“The wife of the accused is not the issue of this trial,” a quiet voice said suddenly. I started, for the speaker was none other than the accused himself.
“Mr Malfoy,” I hissed quietly, giving him a pointed glare. “Let me do the tal””
However, Lucius had already risen to his feet. He spared me one look of distain before turning to face the jury, his face a mask of profound emotion.
“My dear citizens.” He spoke in a voice as silky smooth as his long white-blond hair. “I have already expressed, time and time again, the deepest remorse for the heinous acts I was forced to commit to save the lives of my wife and son. I do not deny that I did horrible things”but I most humbly implore you to look into your hearts and find mercy for a man whose only crime was to protect his family.
“I’m sure that some of you have families”you, Mr Banks, have a little daughter, I believe? And Madame Arvin, a son? Yes? Now, let me ask you this: how far would you go to save their lives? Would you go as far as I did?”
I was impressed. Why, I wondered, was I never able to come up with arguments as eloquent as these? Folding my hands and resting them on my stomach, I leaned back and listened intently to the master at work.
“Now, tell me, my good jurors. Would you be able to live with yourselves had you not done your utmost to keep your wife, your child alive?
I have said, time and time again, that no words could ever express the sorrow that I feel for the horrible things I was forced to do with my family at stake. And I know that no words could ever undo these things. But I hope, deep in my heart, that there is something I can do to help the wizarding community. And, I am pleased to say, I have already begun to do just this.”
Up until this point, I had been listening to this most moving speech with complete awe. Surely, I thought, Mr Malfoy had missed his true calling as an attorney. I was certain that this would have been a much better career than that of a villain (although some can hardly tell the difference). However, at this point in Mr Malfoy’s appeal, I was startled in a most unpleasant way. ‘Already begun to do this?’ Do what? And, more importantly, why had I not been informed?
My jaw and heart dropped simultaneously at what Mr Malfoy said next. “I know money cannot even begin to undo the wrongs I was forced to commit, but I do hope that it can somehow ease the pain I may have”unwillingly, of course”inflicted upon certain individuals and the wizarding world as a whole.”
Harry Potter’s face had darkened; Kingsley Shacklebolt’s brow was furrowed, and the witches and wizards of the jury all appeared to be scowling. I opened my mouth to interrupt my client, but before I could speak, Lucius carried on unphased.
“To those who may not yet know, I have already donated a generous two-hundred and fifty thousand Galleons to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries”an amount that, I hope, helps to cover whatever expenses that may be resultant from my dreadful misdeeds.
“Next, to the Ministry of Magic. The five hundred thousand Galleons I gave to them, I hope, may help with the damages I may have, unfortunately, inflicted upon the Muggle and wizarding communities of Britain.
“Also, I pledge to grant twenty thousand Galleons to each of the five people identified to be direct victims of my forced crimes. An amount I know that can hardly unto what I have done, but that I hope will aid the recovery of these dear, unfortunate people.
“And, as a show of good faith, I plan to donate one-hundred thousand Galleons to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, for the repair of damages inflicted by the Death Eaters to which I unwillingly belonged.”
“And finally…” For the first time, I detected a sinister and cunning glint enter Mr Malfoy’s steely grey eyes. “I would like to give one-thousand five hundred Galleons to each of you”” he was speaking directly to the jury, now, “”for giving up your valuable time in order to assure that justice is found in my tragic and complicated case. I hope that this money may serve to compensate for the time and pay you missed out on here, rather than at your respective workplaces.”
I chose this moment to rise to my feet. “And those,” I finished, deciding that it was time for me to take the reins, “are just two-hundred thousand reasons you’ll find my client not guilty.”
I sat back down amidst the stunned silence, hoping fervently that my quick mental calculations had been correct. There was no noise, no motion. And then”
“All in favor of the defendant walking free, please raise your””
But before the presiding witch could finish, the Minister of Magic had risen. “Please,” he said in his deep, slow voice. “In accordance to new Ministry policies, jurors are not to reveal their choices before the accused.” He turned to the bailiff. “Kindly take their votes in the corridor.”
As I watched the solemn procession of robed jurors slowly leave the room, I turned to face my client. “Well, I”” I began to say, but he cut me off.
“There are many things you still need to learn,” he hissed in a voice even I strained to hear. “Money, when offered in secret, is bribery. But when presented for all the world to hear, it becomes a tool of great leverage.”
“Yes, but””
“Just wait and see.” Smirking slightly, Mr Malfoy leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers gracefully, looking supremely unconcerned. “Wait and see.”
And wait I did, for what seemed to me an eternity. I kept imagining that I heard the door creak open, heard footsteps coming down the corridor. But finally, finally, the footsteps did come”but the faces of the jurors they belonged to were utterly unreadable.
I was, I confess, nearly whimpering with apprehension as the reedy little bailiff strode over to the presiding witch and presented her with a small sheaf of parchment. I fidgeted nervously with the hem of my robe; I had somehow failed to notice until now how badly I needed to use the restroom. My mind was beginning to wander to different matters”a sign of hysteria, I was sure. I was breathing very fast as the witch glanced down at the parchment. Her face expressionless, she raised her head to look impressively around the room.
“And the jury finds the defended, Mr Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, to be… not guilty.”
Now, I would very much like to say here that I let loose a roar of triumph; however, I believe that it was something of a squeal that escaped my throat as I leapt to my feet, eyes shining with happiness. Momentarily forgetting myself, I seized my client in a massive bear hug”only to be pushed away almost instantly.
“Mudblood,” hissed Mr Malfoy, so only I could hear. I could tell by the venom in his voice that he had been longing to say this to me for a very long time. Lucius rose to his feet. Plucking his wand from the grasp of the waiting Auror guard, the tall man turned abruptly on his heel and strode impressively from the room.
Wiping sweat from my brow, I watched my client go. And that, I thought, was that.
Mr Malfoy never thanked me for winning his case, nor did he ever contact me again after the fateful day of his trial. But, in many ways, I suppose that I should be the one thanking him. Business is booming, and many regard me as the greatest lawyer of my age”a lawyer, people say, who won “the most unwinnable of cases”. And it’s not just that. Mr Lucius Malfoy taught me an important lesson about law and life.
A little eloquence and a lot of money go a long way. I know they say money can’t buy happiness, but it certainly can buy you freedom. It’s an unpleasant lesson learned from an unpleasant man, but I can say with great confidence that it’s one I shall never forget.
Author's Note: I know that this trial was more similar to a Muggle one than to a wizard one, but according to JKR, the Ministry underwent some drastic reforms, so I took the liberty of making this one of them. =]