The Art of Weaselling
The fire in the hearth quivered, as though it sensed the conflict in the drawing room it was warming.
It was such a cosy drawing room as well, the walls covered in tapestries of lords and ladies and their horses in a meadow, the lace curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows letting in the mellow sunlight of the fine autumn morning. The crimson sofas contrasted nicely to the brightness, and on these sat three people, one man and two women.
“I’m an old man, Augusta! Enid, help me here, why don’t you?”
“Oh, tosh, Algie, you know you want to,” Enid said, counting the stitches in her knitting and placing elegantly shod feet on the ottoman. Enid MacMillan was nearing her sixtieth year, but her hair was as bright as it was when Algernon MacMillan* asked her to marry him on their sixth year at Hogwarts.
Augusta snorted in amusement into her teacup. Algie scowled.
“I’m not doing it. I turned my back on it long ago. Why should I face it again now, when I’m in my dotage, and quite revelling in it, that is, until my meddlesome nag of a sister comes demanding I take my place again in that bench I’d forsaken?”
Augusta was wincing. “You’re verbose as ever, Algie. As to your question, here is my answer: You will go back because can you bear it if Lucius Malfoy goes free again?”
Enid dropped her knitting needles onto her lap. “What’s this, Angie? What do you mean he goes free again? Aren’t they all in Azkaban?”
Augusta’s eyes flashed, making her already formidable bearing quite menacing. “No, the Malfoys aren’t. Neville tells me they had been given reprieve because Narcissa said she had saved Harry Potter in the Forest. It’s all still a mystery, but Potter does not deny it. They are in confinement in their Manor, all three of them.”
Algie harrumphed and stood up to poke the fire. No one spoke for several long moments. Enid picked up her knitting again and Augusta sipped her tea, glaring. He turned to the window. Outside in the garden, the pear was still blooming. It stood as regally as it did decades ago when it first reached that height, a year after being planted by his father. For him. A male heir. But Algie himself didn’t have an heir of his own. He and his wife Enid just set their hearts and hopes on Neville, that wonderful boy, now a hero.
Two months ago, he couldn’t even see the pear tree. But now the evil mist had dissipated.
As if she knew the direction of his thoughts, his sister spoke. “Algie, the Wizengamot would be glad to have you. The Ministry is in tatters; almost all the good people had been killed. Wouldn’t you like a piece of vengeance on the scum that caused and wilfully participated in the devastation? Wouldn’t you like to try? Who knows? This might be your victory case.”
Ah, there it was. Out in the air and spoken to the winds. Algernon grimaced.
“Is that why you’re wheedling me into this, Angie? Are you trying to make me a hero, like Neville? Trying to make me redeem myself and uphold the family honour...at last?”
“For goodness’ sake!”
“I knew you never did forgive me for leaving the MacMillan procreation to our cousin Caledon**.”
Augusta sputtered incoherently, muttering imprecations while throwing her fox around her shoulder. She marched to the door in high dudgeon. She still marched in the hall. And then the house door slammed, a house-elf squeaked, and one of the portraits exclaimed, ‘Augusta Mary!’
“Your sister meant well. What was that all about, Algernon?”
“Don’t you know, Enid? I learned from the best.” He winked and rushed from the room while the wheels turned in his wife’s not unremarkable brain. He was at the stairs when he heard her snarl in mortification. Algie smirked, the same way he did when he realised she had peppered him with insults just to goad him to finally ask her to marry him back in their sixth year at Hogwarts.
It was the one thing he had been successful in. He shook his head, saw their wedding portrait on the wall in the landing, and smiled ruefully.
“What would I have to do to make you do it?”
He jumped. If he hadn’t been on the landing, he could have died tumbling down the stairs. He clutched his chest and turned to glare at his sister.
“Back so soon?”
“You’d be another vote to make them rot in Azkaban, can’t you see that? Please, Algie.”
He stared at how Augusta clenched and unclenched her fingers on her stuffed vulture. She always did that in agitation. He wondered whose neck she was imagining throttling, his or Malfoy’s. But there was no doubt she would not rest about this issue.
“All the rest of the surviving Death Eaters are under lock and Vanished key. It’s only the Malfoys in doubtful incarceration. Though I don’t see why” Harry Potter could have” ”
“I’ll do this as a favour for you, Angie.”
“Oh, thank you, Algie, I””
“In return, Neville will come home to us for a year.”
“Of course, of course, anything! Why, if you win””
“No, you misunderstood, Angie. I want Neville if I lose.”
“What? Are you implying you’re””
“”thinking Malfoy will not be imprisoned? Yes, I am.”
“I always said Neville got his self-confidence from you!” Augusta shrilled. The vulture was being unstuffed now, poor thing. Enid emerged from the drawing room and gaped at the wadding leaking onto the hall carpet.
“At my age, it isn’t a question of self-confidence any more, Augusta, but being realistic. Be thankful Voldemort is dead. So are the Lestranges. Be thankful that the Malfoys have not injured us directly, because no doubt they won’t be convicted.”
Augusta moaned. “For goodness’s sake! But you said you will do it?”
“Yes, I am willing to be humiliated.”
“Algernon! For goodness’ sake! Can you just spare me and say that you will stand there and do your best to convict them?”
“I always do my best, you know. None of you just believed it.”
“I do,” a quiet voice said.
Algie smiled. Augusta calmed as well, perhaps at seeing his smile. He suddenly felt base, rowing with his sister from the top of the stairs. He climbed back down and put an arm each on the two women’s shoulders. “Thank you, Enid.”
*
Algie felt strange donning his Wizangamot robes again. For one thing, the plum colour clashed horribly with his greying, but still auburn, hair. For another, the robes reminded him of court blunders, when he had raised a question that had already been asked, or referred to the accused with another name, or voted singly on something the rest was unanimous about. The higher charged the atmosphere, the more he lost hold on his tongue. He never really took to Magical Law, but he had tried and done his best, for his father.
“Scowling already? That bodes well,” Enid voiced wryly, grinning and reaching from behind him to pull at the corners of his mouth until he was baring his teeth at the mirror in a semblance of a smile. He looked so ridiculous he did laugh, and then turned to kiss Enid.
“Prepare Neville’s room.”
“Honestly, Algie,” she scolded. “Times like these I wonder why I inveigled you to propose to me. You””
“What? You really think Malfoy will be imprisoned? Did you hear what Augusta said? It seems they reverted to our side near the end. And they’re naming Harry Potter himself as their ‘debtor’!”
Enid rolled her eyes. “I only meant you underestimate me. Neville’s room is always ready.”
That was his Enid. Always on his side.
*
Courtroom Ten was crowded. The spectators’ benches were packed. Aurors flanked the walls. He looked around at the people but didn’t see his sister, or his great-nephew, or any of Neville’s illustrious friends.
“Good to see you, Algernon.”
Algie jumped and retracted his head from the Wizengamot’s door. The woman who had bellowed to him was Griselda Marchbanks. Next to her was Tiberius Ogden, as bowed, as wrinkled.
“And I’m glad to see you well, Griselda, Tiberius. It’s been so long. I must admit, I don’t exactly relish being back here.”
“Nor do we! I will not go in there and talk with that felon. I will sit back and vote to throw him into Azkaban, that’s all.”
Tiberius nodded vehemently. Algie gaped. “But you are the most senior members of the court now, who will preside if not either of you?”
At that moment, someone clutched his arm and stirred him away several steps. “Mr MacMillan, I’m Percy Weasley, Court Scribe. We need you to act as Chief Warlock. I’ve tried to persuade those two, but they absolutely refuse.”
“I absolutely refuse as well, young man!” Sitting with the jury was one thing, but actually doing the questioning? Had Augusta seen this coming?
“Sir, you are highly spoken of by the Elders and none of the surviving and newly inducted members of the Wizangamot now are deserving of chairing this trial.”
“Oh fine! Fine!” None deserving? He doubted that. Oh, all of them were conspiring to get him to face the wiles of Malfoy. At least, Algie’s name would surely be in the Prophet. That should teach Augusta a lesson not to scheme again for family honour.
Outside, silence was ordered. The Wizangamot filed to their door and exited to the courtroom. Algie sat down in the middle of the council. He looked up and liked it. Looking down at the accused from this position was rather... heartening. The accused was still the one in the worse place.
He squinted at the topmost parchment in the sheaf Weasley had given him. “To be brought before the Wizangamot today, Lucius Malfoy, accused of Death Eater malignancy, among other charges. Bring him in.”
The doors swung open to admit two Aurors flanking the blonde aristocrat. Algernon knew him by word only. He looked his fill. The man was tall, with grey eyes like all Malfoy descendants had. He sat himself on the chair and made the tiniest of flinches when the chains clinked and snaked around his arms, pushing up his impeccable black sleeves to reveal a hint of the Dark Mark. Malfoy flexed and turned his arm to hide it.
“Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, of Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire?”
“Yes, I am. If I may speak,” Malfoy drawled. “Are these chains supposed to ensnare innocents before they are proven guilty?”
“The last time I sat on the Wizangamot was some sixteen years ago, but I think the spell that attracts those chains to the Dark Mark still holds, Mr Malfoy.”
There were mirthless chuckles in the courtroom.
“You are brought before the Wizangamot to be tried for the following charges: planting a Horcrux of Voldemort’s in Ginevra Molly Weasley’s cauldron in August 1992, leading to the Unbolting of the legendary Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts and the injury of Colin Creevey, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Penelope May Clearwater, and Hermione Jean Granger and the vile possession and abduction of Ginevra Molly Weasley; destruction of property and torture of the Robertses, a Muggle family, in the Quidditch World Cup in July 1994; accomplice in the torture and injuries of Harry James Potter, the night of Voldemort’s rebirth in Little Hangleton Cemetery in June 1995; breaking and entering the Ministry’s Department of Mysteries in June 1996; destruction of the Hall of Prophecies, damage to the Chamber of Time, the Hall of Thoughts, the Hall of the Universe and the Death Chamber in the aforementioned time and place; accomplice in the torture and injuries of Ronald Bilius Weasley, Hermione Jean Granger, Ginevra Molly Weasley, Neville Franklin Longbottom, Luna Eloisa Lovegood and several members of the Order of the Phoenix in the aforementioned time and place; accomplice in the murder of Sirius Black in the aforementioned time and place; various Death Eater activities including giving sanctuary to Voldemort in Malfoy Manor until June 1998; abduction of Luna Eloisa Lovegood, Gepetto Marcus Ollivander, Dean Francis Thomas in December 1997; accomplice in the torture of Hermione Jean Granger in Malfoy Manor in March 1998***.”
Algernon had taken several breaths in between reading the charges. He took another deep breath now. “Those’re a lot of charges, Mr Malfoy. And we do not stop there. We have here...” Algie squinted, nodded to himself. “... A joint affidavit rendered by Mr Potter, Mr Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger. They have requested to be excused from all unpleasantness on top of mourning their friends, and the Minister has granted them that, hence, they have not graced your trial today. But they did send this. Shall I read it first or shall you declare how you plead?”
The courtroom hushed to listen.
“I plead ‘Not guilty’.”
The courtroom snorted collectively.
Algie was reading the affidavit. He frowned.
“Do you have any witnesses for your defence?” Griselda boomed, apparently forgetting her resolve not to talk to the felon.
“My wife, madam.”
“Your wife is also accused, though mildly.”
“My son””
“”is also accused, I regret to say.”
“You have waived my right to a barrister””
“”because of the glaring evidence of your Dark Mark! Consider this trial a magnanimity! You should be thankful!”
The courtroom murmured its agreement. The Wizangamot converged on Griselda, who was apoplectic.
Algie had half his senses tuned to the rising pandemonium. Someone from the audience shouted ‘Why don’t you just vote on it already and cart him off to Azkaban?’ Algie had the man thrown out for contempt, even as he continued to read Potter, Weasley and Granger’s affidavit. He shook his head.
“Order! The chair will not have this hearing written in the pages of history as a mere formality or worse, an ochlocracy, whatever the background of the accused may be. This shall be a true justice trial, hex me however you may.”
He looked around at the Wizangamot. They all gave him a nod. Ogden looked impressed. Algie was buoyed.
“Lucius Malfoy, did you plant the Horcrux” a diary, in Ginevra Molly Weasley’s cauldron in August 1992?”
“I did, yes."
The courtroom murmured again.
“You didn’t do it out of charity, did you? Didn’t intend it as a secret gift, did you?” And Algie waved the parchments in his hands, daring Malfoy to lie.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Very well, so that means you gave it in malicious intent, that is, to injure, and even kill, Muggle-borns, as that is what occurred.”
“Yes.”
“Guilty of first charge. Did you torture the Robertses after the Quidditch World Cup?”
“No, I did not. I was not one to indulge in such pursuits. My wife does not approve.”
“Your wife is the sister of Bellatrix Lestrange, is she not?” Griselda boomed again. Algie glared at hearing the name. Frank and Alice...
“Yes, madam, but they are as different in bearing and temperament as in colouring.”
This reminded Algie of him and Augusta. Griselda snorted loudly. Algie continued, “You would not have witnesses to your defence regarding this, would you?”
“You can take my son’s memory. I was with him. I was with the throng at first, but I was with him and his mother before the Muggle... Muggle-sporting.”
“We don’t know what Dark magic you’ve learned from your erstwhile master so we cannot rely on any of your family’s threads of memories. Did you unlawfully enter the Ministry of Magic in June 1996, with intent of theft in the Department of Mysteries?”
“Yes. I led the mission. You have already imprisoned me for this charge. I would have gladly stayed in prison as well.”
“While your son took your place?”
The grey eyes glittered. “That” that was the Dark Lord’s sword in his foot, for me and Narcissa. Branding our son. We never meant him to””
At Algie’s impatient wrist movement, Malfoy went on. “That June in 1996, we were to recover the prophecy made about the Dark Lord and Potter. But I did not curse anyone. I only retaliated to members of the Order. And it was Bellatrix who killed Sirius. I did not give the Dark Lord my home; he took it himself, shortly after I was imprisoned, in 1996. He wanted my family at his fingertips; our loyalty was in question after my failure with the prophecy. We were subjected to ridicule in our own home. You know that it was not me nor my wife or son who took those kids either. Ollivander was abducted by the Carrows in August 1996. He was then hidden in our cellar. It was also Bellatrix who tortured Granger for fear they had broken into her vault and stolen more of the Dark Lord’s things."
Disdainfully, Griselda turned her eyes to Algie, ignoring Malfoy’s long speech. “You skipped the charge regarding the rebirth of Voldemort, Algie.”
“I have reason to, Griselda,” he answered, referring to the parchment bunched in his hands. “This affidavit of Mr Potter’s shall be published and archived for the public. Meanwhile, Mr Malfoy, tell us where you were during the Battle of Hogwarts.”
“I was kept by the Dark Lord’s side. We were in Hogsmeade in the Shrieking Shack. I begged to go so I could search for my son at the castle, but he forbade me. The only time I left him was when he bid me to fetch Severus Snape.”
Algie acknowledged the statement with a nod. “The Wizangamot calls upon Mr Rubeus Hagrid, to tell us what happened in the Forest during the Battle of Hogwarts.”
Merlin, he was huge. Algie gaped for several seconds and then cleared his throat as Hagrid sat on the large chair given him. “Mr Hagrid, you were there in Hogwarts’ Forbidden Forest when Voldemort ordered Narcissa Malfoy to ascertain whether Harry Potter is dead?”
Hagrid frowned. No doubt he was expecting a curious question about the Battle, not this. “Yes, sir, I was there. With Grawp. And then I was the one who carried Harry out.”
“You carried Harry out because Narcissa told Voldemort Harry is dead?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was Harry dead?”
“He seemed to be, Merlin. I was crying buckets. Tha’ was clever of Harry, to play dead. Voldemort and his minions could ha’ killed him if” if””
Apparently, the half-giant had caught on with his mouth and realised what he was saying, but it was too late. “Finish your sentence, Mr Hagrid.”
“Voldemort and his minions coulda killed him if they thought he wasn’t dead.”
“They thought he was dead because Narcissa told them he was. And where would we be if Harry Potter was killed?” Lucius drawled, but with fire. For all his cold and calm exterior, the man was desperate to escape imprisonment.
“Very well, we have heard enough. Mr Hagridden”I mean, Mr Garrid, thank you. You may return to your seat. Mr Maf”Maf”Malfoy, we are about to reach our verdict. Do you have anything to add to your testimony before we jonounce prudgment?”
Algie groaned inwardly. The excitement had caught up with him; he was messing up with his tongue again. He conjured a glass of water and ignored the titters from the crowd.
“I am willing to give all the contents of my vaults at Gringotts as settlement for my charges.”
Algie inadvertently sprayed Weasley with his mouthful of water. Apologising, he glared at Malfoy. “Blatant attempt to cribe the bourt can be cited against you, Mr Malfoy.”
“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry, sir. I just” I show remorse. I am guilty, yes, for being swayed to this belief about the superiority of purity of blood. It is the reason I bear this dirty Mark. But I’ve learned my lesson, don’t you think? It all backfired to me; it is fear of losing my wife and son that kept me in the Dark Lord’s clutches. Nobody knows how cruel he is more than I do. I couldn’t risk witnessing that cruelty directed to my family, hence, my obedience. Though it only stretched so far as doing things, not directly hurting people. You have seen Dark and Unforgivables from my wand, but Potter can testify that the Dark Lord has taken it from me and has been the one using it since early July 1997.”
Algie kept his face impassive. What the man just said was actually in the affidavit.
“Will you repeat what you said about being willing to give all the contents of your Gringotts vaults as settlement or penalty for your charges?” Griselda said, her tone amused.
Algie felt some satisfaction when Malfoy lost what little colour he had. Griselda actually laughed. “Come now, I’m sure you have vaults in France, Switzerland, Italy and Japan.”
Malfoy didn’t answer. He only got paler, if that was possible. Algie bit his cheeks. Griselda handled it well. “You don’t? Well, the Malfoy Manor and your other real estates will fetch a considerable sum, I’m sure, enough to get you a modest new home and start you right. You can even put some of the money in Muggle stocks. And come to think of it, I think only Muggles will want to have your Manor, knowing as how the Wizarding world knows what scum had breathed there for two years.”
Algie felt a more perfect time to speak would never come. “Those in favour of levying the Malfoy vaults as penalty for his first charge and his Death Eater malignancy?” He sighed as he heard his tongue correctly obeying his brain.
The Wizangamot gave a unanimous verdict. All twenty-four hands rose.
“In addition, you are forthwith exiled to the Muggle world under close probation, Lucius Malfoy. Your wife and son may accompany you. Three years?” The Wizangamot nodded. “Should you be found wayward on any of our laws and restrictions regarding Muggles, the duration of the exile will be doubled. That’s not really a punishment, is it; they’re nice, you know.”
The courtroom applauded. There were cheers and catcalls. The chains retracted from Malfoy’s arms, but the man remained sitting there unmoving, as though petrified.
*
There was talk of voting him as Chief Warlock and firewhiskey flowed in the Wizengamot’s Chamber. Algie was in high spirits. Malfoy was as good as whipped and Kissed, really, but still, he and Enid will have Neville for a year.
“Oh, Percy, kindly owl or drop this off at the Prophet for publication, eh?” He handed the ‘Golden Trio’s affidavit to the young man. He had already underscored the publishable parts and blackened the private ones. Those would be for the Wizangamot archive only.
After long goodbyes in which each was said with a shot of Ogden’s, he fortified himself with a handy alcohol-containing potion and made his way to the lift and up to the Atrium. The golden grilles opened to reveal Lucius Malfoy, standing there as if waiting for him.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Mr MacMillan.”
Ah. Wait, this man’s wand had been confiscated. No worries. And besides, there was Eric, his two eyes on them.
“I don’t know if I should thank you or pummel you, sir. But may it please you to know that the Malfoy heirlooms are in a safe and private location not anywhere near here. And I do have vaults not just in Paris, Italy, Switzerland and Japan, but also in Australia, Greenland, Denmark and Macau.”
“Oh, I am pleased, Mr Malfoy. May it please you, too, to know that your trial will be tomorrow’s headline.”
*
“You told him it was tomorrow? I can’t believe you Great Uncle Algie!” Neville said behind the Evening Prophet. Algernon and Enid exchanged grins, while Augusta’s lips quivered, but then held on determinedly to her scowl.
“Can you imagine him being given the paper by his house-elf, perhaps in the middle of a celebration dinner, and snorting caviar up his throat and nose at seeing the headline?”
Neville chortled and laid the paper aside, tucking in on his Great Aunt Enid’s excellent roast.
The Evening Prophet had a picture of Malfoy squirming in his seat while Griselda questioned him about his vaults.
Algie knew it was a ruse. Malfoy pretended dread and humiliation to make them give that decision of seizing his property in lieu of throwing him to Azkaban. But Algie didn’t mind. The Weasleys and those Muggle-borns would be well off. The Ministry would have more funds for post-War renaissance. The Malfoys had six vaults, and each contained at least a million galleons. Besides, he saw the humour and capitalisation in the ‘Golden Trio’s idea, and the Prophet had been acquiescent enough to use their suggested headline.
Above Malfoy’s picture were the words ‘The Art of Weaselling’.
~*~
Author’s Note: Uncle Algie's affliction is ‘spoonerism’. It’s quite endearingly amusing rather than ridiculous. And that’s exactly how I wanted Algie to be. *Also, though Hypatia (Thanks again, hon!) tried to help me in the RD about Augusta’s maiden name, I had to settle with MacMillan. It has alliance with Hufflepuff. **In my story, Caledon is Ernie’s grandfather. Please forgive me if I have it wrong and Ernie’s canon grandfather has already been named somewhere.
In my mind, Fudge only sat at Harry's 'hearing' because, indecent intents aside, Dumbledore has been sacked as Chief Warlock.
*** I also made a liberty regarding middle names (hehe). Andrea (Ravensgryff) exercised her modly genius and duties and told me the month of Hermione's torture. (I missed it and thought it was April) Thanks, Andrea! And 'Angie' is inspired by the essay in HPL regarding the Longbottoms' origination.
Loved it or loathed it? Please review, thank you for reading!