‘Don’t worry, Honey,’ I told her as we paused before the doors to the courtroom. ‘Just do as I explained, and you’ll be fine.’ Saying this was a waste of breath; Honey was a house-elf. It would be ludicrous to think that Honey would not do as I said.
To Honey’s right stood an unwilling Auror who’d been given the tedious task of being chained to her with the weightless handcuffs. As none of the rooms inside the Ministry, including courtrooms, would prevent a house-elf from Apparating, he would remain with her throughout the entire arraignment.
Today, Honey wasn’t dressed in clothes. I had gone to the trouble of buying her a tea-towel to wear for the trial. Honey had expressed that she found this strange, because she had thought you were supposed to look your best for court. I had not explained to her that it would be better if she was not seen in clothes, as clothes were a sign of freedom and people would assume murder was her way of obtaining it.
While Honey appeared to be perfectly calm, I found myself shifting my weight from foot to foot nervously. I was somewhat relieved when two guards opened the courtroom doors. My calm was almost immediately crushed again when Honey and I stepped into the courtroom. Her arraignment was open to the public.
Not for one second had I expected Honey’s case to be hushed up, I knew the media would lap up this story in an instant. But the turn-out for this event was extraordinary. The victim’s mother sat in the front row of the court; I watched her closely as she kept her gaze locked on Honey.
As Honey and I took our seats at the defence table, I took a moment to take note of the prosecutor. I recognized him immediately. Having worked for the Law Enforcement, I knew I would be working against my colleagues during the course of Honey’s trial. The prosecutors name was Patrick Nielson, a twenty-something year old who strongly believed that all defendants were guilty until proven innocent. I strongly doubted a house-elf would be an exception.
While I was accustomed to the fifty-odd members of the Wizengamot, Honey stared up at their plum-coloured robes in curiosity. She clearly did not distinguish between the regular members and Madam Willows, the judge who sat at the centre of the group.
A rather small wizard who sat to the right of Madam Willows stood, and began to read aloud the charges.
‘The defendant, Honey the house-elf, is charged with the murder of her master Alistair Cross on the seventh of August, 2026. She is charged for willingly, knowingly and deliberately using the Killing Curse on Mr Cross and intentionally causing his death.’
I noticed Honey’s free hand tightening into a small fist in her lap. Before now, I doubted the word ‘murder’ had been said in front of Honey. As I always avoided mentioning the incident, I had never actually witnessed her reaction to his death. But I did mention Alistair, constantly. She never expressed any remorse at those times. As usual, this left me puzzled.
I heard the judge clear her throat loudly. She turned to face Honey. ‘Defendant, how do you plead?’
Honey turned her head to look at me, I nodded at her. ‘Not guilty,’ she said quietly, but loudly enough for the entire crowd to start murmuring excitedly over her response. I rolled my eyes, had they really expected us to plead guilty?
Madam Willows nodded once. ‘Mr Neilson, does the prosecution wish to be heard on bail?’
Patrick Neilson rose. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We request that the defendant be held without bail, due to the severity of the charge.’
The judge turned to me. ‘Mrs Weasley?’
Granger-Weasley, I thought indignantly as I stood. ‘I’d like to request my client be released on bail. Honey clearly poses no flight risk as she is a house-elf, she would not attempt to flee without specifically being told to.’
I knew I hadn’t fooled anyone, not even myself. I was certain that if anyone told Honey to take off and hide, she wouldn’t hesitate to obey.
Neilson shot up from his seat again. ‘The fact that the defendant is a house-elf only increases the risk in awarding bail. If she were to flee, finding her again would be a waste of the Ministry’s time and money. Releasing her until trial would be plain idiotic.’ He returned to his seat.
Madam Willows sighed. This case had most of the Wizarding world on the edges of their seats, and this woman actually appeared to be bored. ‘As this is a murder trial, I see it necessary that the defendant be held without bail.’
I saw Neilson grin in triumph; he exuded arrogance in his victory.
I looked down at Honey. She blinked up at me with confused eyes. ‘You’re not going to be able to go home, Honey,’ I explained. ‘At least not before the trial.’
Her face fell, along with every ounce of hope that remained. She didn’t speak, but her expression clearly said how much she dreaded returning to that locked room with the Aurors.
I noticed the courtroom was suddenly filled with the voices of those preparing to depart. Even the judge herself was straightening her papers and filing them away in an over-sized brief case.
‘Excuse me, Madam Willows,’ I spoke loudly across the room. The woman looked up at me darkly; she had obviously thought this arraignment was over. ‘I do have one other request.’
‘Yes?’ she asked as the other occupants of the room fell silent.
‘It would be... well, undesirable for Honey to remain chained to a wizard every second before her trial. I think a more suitable alternative would be to create a cell inside the Ministry for Honey - using appropriate anti-Apparition spells for house-elves, of course.’ I heard Patrick Neilson scoff. ‘I also wonder why nobody had brought this up earlier, Madam. It seems unreasonable to me that Honey be under to constant surveillance. Some might suggest Honey was being mistreated if this were to continue.’
The judge was quiet for a moment. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I’ll make sure that is arranged.’
I smiled. Neilson was clearly devastated by this minor defeat, and swept out of the courtroom before anyone had reached the door.
I accompanied Honey and her guard back to the empty office on the second floor, which would soon be a place she wouldn’t have to return to.
Before they stepped through the door, Honey turned to me. ‘They said I murdered Master Alistair,’ she said almost inaudibly.
I frowned. ‘Yes, those were the charges.’
A look of deep concern spread across her face. ‘I did not murder him,’ she said, her large eyes burned fiercely. ‘I promise you, Miss, I did not.’
I sat in my spotless kitchen, feeling slightly out of place. I realised I’d been going about this case all the wrong ways. Telling Honey not to speak about the day Alistair Cross was killed had been my biggest mistake. It only suggested what little trust I had put in my client. I supposed a major part of me had doubted her innocence, which is why I had not asked for the truth. If Honey had been guilty, hearing the truth would have made me ineligible to defend her in front of the Wizengamot.
I had assigned myself to Honey’s case for all the wrong reasons. Perhaps I had simply wanted to add ‘defence attorney’ to my resume. But since hearing Honey confess to me her innocence, I knew I was imbedded into this case as much as she was.
The only thing that had me concerned about my part in this case was my husband. Ron had become infuriatingly disapproving, trying to find ways to change my mind at every opportunity.
I knew he couldn’t help but take it personally; he was the first person at the scene of the crime. I wished he wouldn’t see it that way, and find it in himself to support me. But as I was defending someone he was certain was a murderer, I knew we wouldn’t be able to see eye-to-eye until the trial was over.
I had not yet seen Ron since the morning before Honey’s arraignment. You would think running into each other at the Ministry would be inevitable, but we never seemed to cross paths.
I had come home right after court in order to get working on Honey’s defence, seeing I was now convinced she was innocent. But something kept me distracted; something I needed to do before I could absorb myself in the case.
I walked into the living room and knelt down before the fireplace. I took a handful of Floo Powder, stuck my head inside and shouted my destination. The flames erupted around me and I waited until a small kitchen came into view.
The kitchen was almost as ridiculously clean as mine, although probably due to neurotics rather than lack of use. At the dining table sat a small, young woman immersed in the Daily Prophet.
‘Louise,’ I said loudly, startling her.
She stared over at me. ‘Hermione!’ she exclaimed after the initial shock of finding my head hovering in her fire wore off.
Louise was my son’s flatmate, and suspected love interest. The girl wasn’t particularly my cup of tea, but if she made Hugo happy, I would make the effort to be civil. So far, she had failed to prove herself.
‘Is Hugo around?’ I asked, not bothering with chit-chat.
‘Sure, I’ll go get him.’
I waited for a few moments, body and head separated in space. When Hugo finally came into my line of vision, I felt a smile stretch my face to match his.
‘What brings you here, Mum?’ he asked warmly.
I knew Hugo would have already heard about the death of an ex-Hogwarts student, but it was the news that had not yet reached the papers that made me fear his reaction.
‘I suppose you heard about Alistair Cross,’ I started timidly.
The grin faded from his face ‘Yeah, I did.’
‘Well, I know he was your age... were you two friends?’ The look on Hugo’s face gave me the answer I had feared.
‘We were mates, yeah.’ I immediately regretted not contacting Hugo yesterday. I had put the needs of Honey first, when I had known there was a good chance my son had known Alistair.
‘I’m sorry, Hugo. It’s so horrible... he was so young.’
He nodded. This had hit me harder than I expected. I wished that Alistair could have been someone, anyone else, just not the friend of my child.
‘There’s something else though,’ I admitted quietly. I inhaled deeply, as if oxygen could save him from this. ‘I’m defending the house-elf who was arrested at the crime scene.’
Hugo stared at me for a moment. I almost thought he had had not heard. ‘You’re defending Alistair’s killer?’ he finally said. The look on his face could have broken my heart. I’d never wanted to hurt him; I’d only wanted to do my job.
But then it hit me. This wasn’t my job at all. I’d chosen this case despite all better judgement, not realising how it would affect my family.
‘Why?’ he choked out. ‘No, I don’t think I can hear it right now.’
‘Hugo-’
‘Please, Mum, I’d like you to leave.’ He turned and left the room before I had the chance to myself. I slowly pulled my head out from the fire, feeling numb to the core. I hadn’t had the chance to explain that Honey was innocent, that I planned to find out the actual killer. This led me to wonder if I would have remained on the case if I believed Honey had killed my son’s friend.
When I turned around I found I was not alone. Ron stood still in the doorway, an expression mixed with hurt and fury etched on his face.
‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Hermione,’ he said, before walking away. And I knew he wasn’t referring to my lack of experience as a defence attorney.
I remained where I was; listening to Ron’s heavy footsteps climb the staircase and cross the floor above. I did know what I was doing. I was potentially damaging the relationships I had with my son and husband. But these were merely short-term effects, Ron and Hugo would understand once Honey was found not guilty. Or maybe they wouldn’t. But there wasn’t a chance in the world I was going to let a house-elf get convicted for a crime it did not commit.
As it seemed I was no longer welcome in my own home, I had escaped to the sanctity of my office. Not that I was any more welcome in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement than I was at home. Technically, I was still supposed to be on leave, but the easiest place to work on the up and coming trial was in my own office space. So far, nobody had told me to leave.
Still slightly shaken from my conversation with Hugo, I tried to distract myself by concentrating on my defence strategy.
I found myself dying to know what had actually occurred the moment Alistair Cross died. But every moment I spent procrastinating about asking Honey to tell me, I told myself the truth could only damage our chances.
I know I believed Honey when she said she was innocent, but innocence in the eyes of a house-elf could mean guilty in the eyes of the Wizengamot. There were so many different circumstances that could have taken place, all forcing Honey to believe she was not responsible for her master’s death.
Honey was dead-set certain she had never been beaten by Alistair Cross, which completely ruled out using an act of self-defence as the structure of the case. Even if I did use this, there was a high chance Honey would serve a sentence anyway.
If I claimed somebody else did it, or she did it unintentionally, I would have myself a very weak defence that Patrick Neilson would shatter in an instant.
My last resort was to plead insanity. The thought made the shiver. Doing this would mean proving Honey was not in a right frame of mind at the time of Alistair’s death. Doing this would make me look like a fool.
I couldn’t very well stand up and say ‘Honey is a house-elf, she didn’t know what she was doing’ because it flat-out contradicted everything I’d been slamming down people’s throats for the last twenty years.
If I was going to say Honey was out of her mind, I needed to go about it the right way. This meant that I would first need to speak to Honey.
I stood up, about to head across to where she was still being kept, when I noticed Patrick Neilson walk straight by my office. He did a double take, clearly not expecting me to be up here.
He grinned slightly and entered my office. ‘You’d be surprised to hear how pleased I am to see you,’ he sneered.
The man dressed pretty sharply, which was more than I could say for myself. He had tidy, dark hair and piercing blue eyes. If you were completely oblivious to Neilson’s personality, you might consider him attractive.
‘Why’s that?’ I asked, sounding uninterested.
I noticed that in his hand he held a single roll of parchment, which he passed to me. ‘I was about to owl this to you, but you’ve just made my day a whole lot easier.’
I grudgingly glanced at the parchment. I recognised it as a list of witnesses that Neilson would use in attempt to get Honey locked up.
‘See you later,’ he said cheerfully, turning on his heels and departing my office.
I grunted a reply, scanning parchment for the list of names. Even though I had expected it, it made my heart skip a beat. Ron’s name was printed neatly at the bottom of the small list; he was the number one witness for the prosecution. Just as things looked like they weren’t going to get any worse, I was going to have to cross-examine my own husband.
I felt slightly disorientated as I made my way to the office Honey was in. I barely acknowledged the Aurors who chained my wrist to hers before they left us to our meeting.
I did notice that Honey had changed back into her child-sized dress, and looked more angelic than ever. I dreaded the conversation we were about to have, knowing it would upset her.
‘Honey,’ I said, clearing my throat. ‘Earlier, you told me that you didn’t kill your master...’
‘Yes.’ She nodded. I then realised that Honey looked slightly afraid. ‘I know I said I didn’t murder him, Miss. But... I have been thinking, and I think... that maybe I did.’
I stared at her in disbelief. In a matter of hours, she had transformed from being innocent to now, a murderer. I looked into the house-elf’s wide, confused eyes. Perhaps proving to the Wizengamot that Honey was insane wouldn’t be all that difficult.
‘I know I told you that you weren’t to tell me anything about that day,’ I sighed. ‘But I’m going to have to ask: what on earth happened down in that basement, Honey?’
The elf looked down at her knees, trying to hide the tears that had filled her eyes. She made a small hiccup-like noise before sinking back into her memory, and telling me everything.