As soon as Honey’s name had escaped my lips, I heard a chair slam back across the floor as Patrick Neilson leapt up from the prosecution table. ‘What?’ he shouted over at me.
I turned to face him, forcing my mouth to remain in a tight pressed line as Neilson appeared to be on the verge of throwing a tantrum.
Putting Honey on the stand was a fairly rash decision, so I could see how Neilson could be upset. He wouldn’t have the chance to come up with a strategy for his cross-examination, and this only worked in our favour.
‘Is there a problem, Mr Neilson?’ Madam Willows enquired, staring her nose down at him.
I couldn’t help but smile as Neilson collected himself and attempted to recover from his unprofessional outburst. ‘No, there’s not a problem. I simply wish I had been given more notice.’ He pulled his chair back to its original place and sat down.
I could tell Neilson was confident he had won this thing, despite having made no progress with my witness. I thought I’d only need one witness for my defence, and I felt he made a decent impact on the court. He specialized in the sociology of house-elves, and I prompted him to explain how house-elves still felt obliged to carry out every order given to them by their masters - emphasizing on the word every. I knew that so far, my tactic was unclear, which was why I needed Honey to shed some light.
I watched her being led to the witness stand, a pink and white tea-towel tied neatly around her tiny frame. Though she kept her eyes on the floor, Honey did not appear to be nervous at all. I knew that this was the one thing she could do to save herself. All she had to do was tell the truth.
As I stood to face Honey, I inhaled deeply, knowing that this was the last time I could breathe feely until the trial was over. I stepped around my desk, approaching the stand slowly. I knew it must have looked as if I was being melodramatic, but the truth was that I hadn’t felt this nervous in a long time.
I regrettably reached Honey sooner than I had hoped for, and had no choice but to begin my long line of questioning. I stared at the fragile elf before me, wishing there was another way. ‘Hi, Honey,’ I said, smiling.
She glanced up at me, her eyes wide. ‘Hello, Miss.’
I continued to smile. This house-elf could not have been more perfect, it didn’t even seem like I had trained her to be polite; it simply came naturally.
‘Honey, you don’t mind if I ask you a few questions, do you?’ She nodded. ‘And what about that man over there,’ I said, indicating Neilson, who sat with his arms folded across his chest, leading back in his chair, ‘do you think you can answer his questions truthfully?’
She stared at me for a moment, not quite understanding that I was asking these questions for the benefit of the rest of the courtroom. ‘Of course I will,’ she said.
‘Great,’ I said. ‘Now, how long had you worked for Alistair Cross, Honey?’ I dove straight into it, knowing the Wizengamot wouldn’t appreciate much more small talk.
‘Two years,’ she said. ‘He became my master as soon as he left Hogwarts.’
I nodded, acting as if this information was new to me. ‘Would you say that you and Alistair had a good relationship?’
‘Yes, we were very close.’
‘So close that he had even given you clothes...’ I directed the conversation easily.
She nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, Miss. But not to set me free, just as a sign of respect.’
I feigned intrigue. ‘Alistair, your master, showed you respect?’
‘Of course.’ She smiled warmly. ‘He treated me as a friend.’
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, folding my arms. ‘Do you feel that Alistair placed a lot of trust in you, Honey?’
She seemed to consider her answer for a moment, even though we had already been through her response. I wondered why I hadn’t considered putting Honey on the stand earlier, she was easily the best witness I’d questioned – and on her own murder trial! ‘I think we both trusted each other greatly, Miss. I remember the day Alistair told me he could trust me with his life.’
More perfection, I had to suppress a grin. I turned to what could only be considered our ‘audience,’ to witness their reaction to Honey’s comment.
For a moment, I lost my breath. There in the crowd sat my son. I hadn’t seen Hugo enter the courtroom, but there he sat, next to my husband, wearing an unreadable expression.
I stared at him for a moment, losing all concentration. I hadn’t wanted him to hear the truth this way...
‘Mrs. Weasley?’ said Madam Willows’ stern voice. I quickly turned back to Honey, recollecting my thoughts.
‘If you and Alistair had such a strong friendship, Honey, do you recall spending the day with him on the seventh of August?’ I felt the tension in the room increase at the mention of this date; we now held everyone’s full attention.
‘We were both in the house that day, yes,’ she said calmly.
‘And what do you recall doing at around two in the afternoon that day?’ I asked. I didn’t bother looking around at the court; I could tell that they had not been expecting such a direct question. The entire Wizarding world had it in their heads that this elf was guilty, so of course they would wonder why her lawyer was asking for the truth.
I noticed Honey’s eyes begin to dart around the room; until now she had shown no sign of anxiety, but her mood quickly shifted when forced to remember something she’d much rather forget.
I felt a faint pain in my heart as Honey began to tell the court her story.
‘I had made Master Alistair lunch,’ she said, her eyes refocusing on mine. ‘I had seen him go down to the basement, so I followed him. I didn’t want him to go without his lunch...’
She trailed off; I feared she would start to cry. While it killed me to see Honey upset, I also knew that gaining Madam Willows’ sympathy couldn’t hurt.
‘What did you find when you entered the basement, Honey?’ I pressed.
She looked down at her hands, which had started to tremble. ‘I saw Master Alistair,’ she said quietly. ‘He was sitting in the middle of the basement.’
Honey seemed to refuse to look up at me again; it was as if she wanted to blame me for asking this of her. Because I knew that if Honey had the choice, she’d keep this secret forever, even if it meant spending the rest of her life in prison.
‘Aside from being on the floor,’ I continued, forcing the words out, ‘was Alistair acting out of the ordinary at all?’
She nodded slightly. ‘He was staring at his wand while he twirled it between his fingers. And he was crying...’ Her voice almost became a whisper. ‘I had never seen him cry before.’
As her voice started to shake, I had to turn away. I knew I was being a coward, but I couldn’t face what I was doing to her. I searched the crowd briefly as a distraction, and my eyes found Alistair Cross’ mother. She sat still in the front row, and I swore she was hardly breathing. Her eyes didn’t meet mine, for they were locked on the house-elf beside me. Mrs Cross wore an expression of such hatred that I was slightly taken aback. I could have understood this, as a mother myself, but there was something more to this woman... something more than the grief of a mother who had just lost her son.
‘What did you do next, Honey?’ I asked, turning back to my client.
Honey cleared her throat quietly; I could tell she was eager to remain strong. ‘I walked over to him, and put his lunch on the floor next to him. I asked Master Alistair if he needed anything else, but he just continued to cry...’
--
She watched the wand dance between his fingers; he stared at it darkly as it spun. She noticed how cold the basement seemed to have become, and wondered why Master Alistair didn’t go upstairs into the warmth. She shivered, knowing that something was definitely not right.
She shuffled her tiny feet forward slightly, approaching him cautiously. The last thing she wanted to do was upset him more than he already appeared to be.
‘M-Master?’ she started timidly. ‘What’s the matter?’
The tears continued to stream down his face silently, he didn’t bother to wipe them away, just stared at the wand in his hand. ‘She’s done it again,’ he whispered almost inaudibly.
Honey knew who he meant; it had to be his mother. Countless times had she upset Alistair, but things had gotten far worse since his father had died. Honey never understood what it was that she did, exactly, but Alistair had always said that he couldn’t live up to her expectations...
‘What has she done?’ Honey inched closer to him again, as though trying not to alarm him.
Alistair shook his head, only breaking his gaze at the wand to close his eyes tightly.
‘You know what she’s like,’ he said, tears swelling out despite his best attempts. ‘Trying to take control of my life...’
Honey began to wonder if she had been oblivious to the extent of Alistair’s mother’s cruelty, and that perhaps Alistair had been holding all of this in until now... for Honey’s sake.
She leaned forward slightly and somehow found the courage to reach out carefully and touch his shoulder with her small hand. At this touch, Alistair snapped open his eyes and turned to face Honey, startling her slightly.
‘But I won’t let her,’ he said quickly. ‘I won’t let her take control... not again.’
Honey was confused. As far as she was aware, Wizards could decide how to live their own lives, nobody could control them. But the look in her Masters eyes told her otherwise. They burned with intent, he was taking control.
Alistair glanced back to the wand in his hand, and Honey noticed her heart was pounding rather quickly in her chest. He had now stopped crying, as if an idea had ended his sadness, made him forget about whatever it was that his mother had done.
‘I can end this before she has the chance,’ Alistair whispered.
Honey stepped back from her Master, unaware of what his intentions were, though not willing to find out.
Alistair’s expression changed once again, his face crumpled. ‘I’m so sorry, Honey.’ His voice was no more than a whisper as he began to cry again. But now it seemed he had acknowledged his sadness, and he quietly began to sob. ‘You need to know,’ he said, turning to look at her once more, ‘if I could stay, I would stay for you.’
Honey swallowed hard. ‘But where are you going?’
He simply shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Honey watched in perplexity as Alistair lifted his wand and turned it unexpectedly to face his chest.
Honey was a naive house-elf, but this she understood. She watched in horror, helpless and unable to contradict her Masters decision. She had never negotiated before, but she knew it was the only thing in her power to do. ‘Please, Master,’ she begged. ‘There must be something I can do.’
He glanced up at the elf, a flood of mixed emotions etched on his face. He was clearly horrified, but what else was he to do? It wasn’t within his magic ability to do this himself... and Honey was the most extraordinary elf he had ever met.
Honey found herself sobbing in time with the Master she loved, terrified to lose him.
She watched as Alistair inhaled deeply. ‘Honey,’ he said, ‘there is one thing that you can do.’
She smiled. Whatever it was, she could do it if it meant keeping Alistair alive. So she agreed unknowingly, smiling in naivety. ‘Anything,’ she whispered.
--
The courtroom fell surprisingly silent as Honey stopped speaking. I had imagined I’d hear the frantic scratching of quills and eager whispers coming from the crowd. But the members of this court were clearly as appalled as I had been. Who could ask such a thing of this elf, and make her promise before she had even heard the request?
It must have been sheer desperation that led Alistair Cross to voice that order to Honey, and while it angered me that he would do so, I had only pity for my son’s friend.
By now, Alistair’s mother had left the courtroom. She had looked horrified, yet not surprised, as Honey informed the court of the truth.
And now that Honey had done this, I needed to illuminate the meaning behind this truth. I turned to my client, who was wiping her cheeks with the pink corner of her tea towel. ‘Honey, did Alistair Cross order you to kill him?’
She blinked up at me. I’d warned her I would ask her this, and I’d told her what the answer needed to be; she was just terrified to say it. I kept my eyes locked with hers, letting her understand that she could trust me. ‘Yes,’ she shakily said.
I tried to give Honey a reassuring smile, but my lips only managed to twitch feebly at the sides. I sighed. ‘Have you ever disobeyed an order from your Master before?’
This question seemed to ease her expression; she could so easily be distracted. ‘No, Miss. Never.’
‘And how would you feel if you hadn’t done what you were told to do in that basement, Honey?’
Her face fell again as she was forced to remember. ‘Like I had failed, Miss, failed my duties as a house-elf.’
This time I managed to muster a small smile. ‘No further questions, Madam Willows.’
Patrick Neilson rose from his chair at the prosecution table, wearing a smug expression. He had not been fazed by Honey’s tale; this haunting truth meant nothing to him.
He briskly approached my frail client, and folded his arms as he reached her. He stared down at Honey condescendingly, prepared to make her look as insignificant as possible. ‘So, Mr Cross told you to do it?’ he asked, his voice booming through the courtroom mockingly.
Honey didn’t look at the man before her, her eyes only met mine from across the room. ‘Yes,’ she said.
‘And you said you would have failed if you didn’t fulfil his wishes.’ Honey flinched slightly, as Neilson leaned on her bench. ‘So, you wanted to kill him?’
She refused to look at him, but his words affected her. ‘No, I did not.’
Neilson frowned at her. ‘But you performed the curse, didn’t you?’ She nodded slowly. ‘You, a house-elf with no magical training, performed a full blown Killing Curse on the Master you were supposed to love.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘You must have really meant it when you uttered that curse.’
I watched as Honey’s face crumpled; tears began to fill her eyes. ‘I had to do it,’ she nearly whispered. ‘He is my Master.’
Neilson continued to stare down at my client. ‘Well, he was your Master. Not anymore.’
I jumped from my seat instantly, watching as Honey finally drew her gaze away from mine to stare at Patrick Neilson. ‘Objection!’ I almost yelled. ‘He is deliberately distressing my client in hope of getting her to say whatever helps his case!’
Madam Willows glared at Neilson sternly. ‘Concentrate on your line of questioning, Mr Neilson.’
Neilson scoffed. ‘If only I’d had time to prepare one.’ He turned back to Honey. ‘Can you read, Honey?’
What that had to do with anything, I had no idea. Honey shook her head. ‘No, I was never taught, Sir.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, I’ll just have to read this out myself.’ He then reached into the pocket of his well-tailored robes and pulled from it a small roll of parchment. I leant forward in my seat as Neilson cleared his throat. ‘I have here an extract from the House-Elf Rights Act, 2003. I will now read to the court the third decree under the Act.’
Neilson paused for effect, and I knew exactly what was coming. ‘A house-elf that serves an individual witch, wizard or magical family has the direct right to disobey an order from their master if the command will lead to the endangerment of the house-elf itself or any other being.’ Neilson stared around at the court, clearly trying not to smile.
‘You’ll notice here, Madam Willows,’ Neilson said, approaching the judge’s desk and handing her the parchment, ‘a list of signatures that enforced this decree. First of which is a Hermione Jean Granger... now, that name seems to ring a bell...’
He turned to face the court audience, unable to hide his grin. I could have laughed myself; the prosecutor clearly thought he could win this case by making a fool out of me. I stood. ‘Madam Willows, does the prosecution rest, or would Mr Neilson prefer to continue on with his shameless antics?’
The judge raised her eyebrows at Neilson. He chuckled slightly. ‘Yes, the prosecution rests.’
I remained standing. ‘I’d like to question the defendant once more, Judge.’
Madam Willows sighed; clearly she had hoped this was over. ‘Very well.’
Once I’d reached Honey, I realised that she looked extremely troubled. Perhaps confused by Neilson’s parade, or maybe she understood more that I gave her credit for.
‘Honey, were you aware that the decree Mr Neilson read to the court was in place? Did you even know you had a right to disobey Alistair if it meant putting him in harm’s way?’
She stared up at me, anguish set in her large eyes. ‘I didn’t know, Miss. If I did... Master Alistair would not be dead.’
‘Members of the Wizengamot,’ Patrick Neilson said, addressing the group of witches and wizards in their plum-coloured robes. His closing statement was all he had left in this trial, his last moment in the spotlight. I could tell he was going to make the most of it.
‘It needs to be understood that Honey the house-elf was not carrying out a simple order of her master’s request. She was pointing a wizard’s wand at the chest of her beloved master, and not just saying, but meaning the curse that fell from her lips – not to mention smiling after the deed was done. As we have all heard, to make this curse successful, behind it needs to be intent. And for this elf to have enough strength to willingly and intentionally speak the Avada Kedavra curse is enough to have you, members of the Wizengamot, charge her with murder.’
Patrick Neilson grudgingly surrendered by taking his seat. His yield was my gain; I stood and faced the Wizengamot.
‘Mr Neilson would like you all to believe that Honey had the pure intention to kill. But if you do believe this, you clearly have not been listening to the defendant’s testimony.’ I met each watchful gaze of the members of the court, determined to make them join my side. ‘Today I asked Honey to tell the truth. And as you all know, a house-elf must do as they are told. Which is exactly what Honey has spent her whole life doing. Never has she betrayed or defied her master; she has always carried out the tasks asked of her. There is absolutely no evidence to suggest Honey the house-elf had premeditated her master’s death. Therefore, she had no intention to kill him. Honey’s only intentions were those she has had her entire existence, to serve and obey her master’s every command.’
I glanced around at my client, who sat staring into her lap, dismayed by Neilson’s display of Decree Number Three.
‘Little did Honey know,’ I continued, ‘she had every right to walk away from Alistair Cross that day, to leave him to do the deed himself. Because, ultimately, it is what would have happened. While we are wasting our time in this courtroom, the real reason for this young man’s death is outside these walls, walking free.’
I turned to face the court audience, finding the eyes of my son. Hugo watched me as I spoke, his expression indecipherable.
‘It has become evident today that Honey would not have spoken the Killing Curse if she knew that there was another way. If the house-elves of this country had been informed of this basic right, there would be no need for this trial today.’ I stepped around and stared into the stern eyes of Madam Willows, and spoke my closing line, ‘Honey the house-elf is not guilty of murder. She is as much a victim to this tragedy as Alistair Cross himself.’
Madam Willows remained seated as she shifted her position to face the short Wizengamot member beside her. The man looked slightly afraid to speak as she glared down her nose at him. It was time for the verdict to be decided, and this man clearly had something to say that would lengthen the time it took for a decision to be made.
I had difficulty overhearing the man as he spoke to Madam Willows. I watched her raise her eyebrows at him, leading him to speak louder in volume. ‘Some Wizengamot members would like to request an alteration in the charges, Judge Willows,’ the short man squeaked.
Her eyebrows only seemed to move further up into her forehead. ‘And what would the Wizengamot like to alter the charges to, exactly?’
I sucked in my breath, what could be worse than a murder charge? I prayed for this new occurrence to work in Honey’s favour.
‘The request is that the charges be considered an unintentional killing, but with a wilful disregard for life.’ The entire court listened intently to the man, though I doubted this meant much to the general public. ‘In other words, manslaughter.’
I narrowed my eyebrows. Manslaughter was a Muggle term, was Honey’s case so extraordinary that we had to introduce new terms into the Wizarding courts? It appeared that way as Madam Willows turned to face the court audience and said, ‘Very well, we’ll bring this so called ‘manslaughter’ into the mix, but the original charge shall remain an option.’
I sighed. I had hoped they’d remove murder all together.
‘A show of hands, please,’ Madam Willows continued, turning back to face the Wizengamot, ‘for those in favour of conviction for murder.’
I held my breath, glancing quickly at an afraid-looking Honey before watching as only a small number of hands rose. Those who had raised hands were mostly elderly, nothing more could be expected of them. They were not, however, a majority. I exhaled; this wasn’t yet over.
‘Those in favour of conviction for unintentional killing’ – I could have sworn I saw the Judge roll her eyes – ‘or manslaughter, raise your hands.’
My heartbeat increased as several hands went up, and slowly at least half of the Wizengamot had voted for manslaughter. The actual numbers, however, I could not be sure.
The Judge’s expression remained as stern as ever, and for a moment I saw a flicker of interest in her eyes. ‘Lastly, a show of hands for those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges.’
The rest of the members raised their hands, and again, it seemed like half were raised. I didn’t have time to count, as they had already lowered their hands.
I watched as a young wizard crossed the court and reached Judge Willows, whispering what I assumed were the actual numbers of the vote in her ear.
This was it. I look down at the house-elf beside me, feeling a strong surge of emotion build up in my chest. No matter what the verdict was, I would not forget Honey, and I wouldn’t let her out of my life.
I closed my eyes and listened to the firm voice of Madam Willows as the verdict filled my ears. ‘As decided by the Wizengamot, Honey the house-elf is found guilty for manslaughter. She is hereby sentenced to two years in Azkaban prison.’
My eyes snapped open; the roar of the media replaced the Judge’s voice in an even louder way. I stared at Honey, who looked up at me with her wide eyes. I didn’t know what to say.
‘What does this mean, Hermione?’ she asked me pleadingly.
I couldn’t find the words to answer her, I simply stared as the Aurors came and took her by the arms. I watched, completely horrified as she was pulled through the courtroom doors, staring back at me, confusion set in her eyes.
I walked numbly passed Patrick Neilson, ignoring him as he approached me with a haughty expression on his face. I wanted nothing more than to shout obscenities at the prosecutor, but no words managed to reach my lips.
I pushed through the heavy wooden doors of the courtroom, already deciding I would never enter them again. I couldn’t describe how I was feeling, because I honestly didn’t know. I couldn’t react to Honey’s sentence, because I didn’t know what verdict to expect in the first place.
My legs walked me down the corridor, and I was quickly met by the familiar face of Amos Diggory. I looked up at him without speaking; I hadn’t noticed him in the court, but he had clearly heard the decision for his expression was troubled.
‘Hermione,’ he said in a concerned tone. ‘Are you all right?’
I stared at his ageing face, wondering where I had gone wrong in my defence case for Honey.
His look of concern deepened as I didn’t reply. ‘Hermione, listen. Don’t blame yourself. You really couldn’t have asked for more.’
This reawakened me into reality. ‘You know that’s not true, Amos. Honey should be free.’
He sighed, placing a hand on my shoulder. ‘Why don’t you come up to my office, we’ll have a drink and chat. You’ll be fine.’
I shook my head. ‘Thanks, Amos. But I need to be with my family.’
I took his hand from my shoulder and grasped it briefly in appreciation. I then stepped around him, and saw Hugo, approaching me with long strides.
Before I knew it, I had curled my son into my arms, just as I had always done before he was old enough to be embarrassed by it. Hugo didn’t pull away from me, he held me as I held him. ‘I’m so sorry, Mum,’ he said.
I leaned back, watching his blue eyes closely. ‘Hugo, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who risked our relationship on a case that I’d failed from the start.’
Hugo shook his head. ‘You didn’t fail her. Two years and she’ll be out; you’re the reason it’s not longer.’
I tried to believe the comforting words of my son, and also wondered how he had become the one to take care of me. He would have a million questions about the death of his friend, most of which I wouldn’t be able to answer.
We walked together to meet Ron. I was silent as he voiced his first question. ‘Why was Honey smiling, when Dad found her?’
I hadn’t expected this to be Hugo’s first concern, but I could see how it left some people confused. Why would an elf be happy after the death of her master? I could only assume that Honey had stood there for a while, and had had plenty of time to think.
Hugo’s question took me back to my cross-examination of my husband, and how my defence would have been confusing at the time.
People can experience pleasure for a number of reasons, Mr Weasley, I had said. For example: remembering a positive moment in one’s life. I smiled as Ron approached Hugo and I. ‘Memories,’ was my reply to Hugo’s question. And I was sure that when I went to visit Honey in Azkaban, she would tell me that I wasn’t far off the mark.