Draco Malfoy, Broken

Hundreds of miles away, Harry Potter was brushing some lint off his plum robes. He was not at all amused to be going to a celebration, in his honor, on his birthday, which was now an official national holiday. He almost wanted to skive off, but he had some negotiating to do. He couldn't afford to miss the opportunity to strong-arm a few votes.

"Ready, Harry?" Hermione asked, she also had on deep-purple robes on and a silver W on her chest. Both of them were now members of the high wizarding court, the Wizengamot. Ron had flatly declined going to those stuffy trails and meetings.

"Sure, though this is going to be rough."

"Do you want me to go over your speech with you?" Hermione asked.

"I think Harry's mastered giving speeches, 'Moine," Ron said, walking into the changing room off the main hall. He wasn't smiling and he didn't look at Harry.

"No thanks, Hermione, unless you can tell me what I'm missing. Why can't they just..." Harry said, desperately.

"Oh Harry, it'll be alright. Everyone is just... they haven't recovered, said goodbye to their loved ones. How many were tortured and hunted during the war? People don't forgive that easily."

"I know I haven't," Ron grunted.

"Ron..." Hermione began.

"Hey, I lost a brother, Hermione," Ron huffed. "George hasn't been the same, probably never will be. You were tortured and Harry had to die to stop those assholes. There is no forgiveness for that."

Harry gave his friend a hard look. He couldn't even convince his own best mate to let the past go. Though everything Ron had said was right, he neglected to mention how no one is healing. Forgiveness and acceptance goes both ways. Ron hadn't gotten over his sibling's death. Fred was gone, but his family still were in mourning. There was no closure, no answers for what they could have done differently. Harry even felt guilty. Fred was there to help him, after all. It was over three months ago, though.

"I understand how you feel, Ron. But I can't hold onto hate that way. That's what Voldemort and his closest followers did. We have to heal."

"Save it for your speech, Harry," Ron grunted and walked back out.

"Ron..." Hermione called, but he left. "Don't worry about him, Harry. He loved Fred. George... he's still struggling. Give him space. He doesn't understand why you care so much."

"It's the right thing to do, Hermione."

"Of course. But you need to understand that not everyone is going to agree with you or see it your way. You have to accept that."

"I've been accepting it... for months. They executed Voldemort's supporters, Hermione. How could they do that? What the hell is the point of ending the whole war if we are still killing each other? And Malfoy... shit he's still in Azkaban."

Hermione looked at him and then hugged him. Harry melted. The stresses of the last few months were wearing on him. He had no idea how to navigate the political fields of the Ministry or even how to function in normal society. He was stuck. Just like when he was hunting Horcruxes. What was the next step? He was lost and fumbling. His destiny was now fulfilled. What did he want to do next? He didn't know if he could even be an Auror.

He didn't finish his last year. He tried to take the NEWTS in the few weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, but he was so behind. The only subject he excelled in was Defense against the Dark Arts. But his Potions, Charms and Transfiguration were rough at best. Those were critical areas that Aurors need to have. He was going to end up a token member of the Ministry if he didn't get his head in the game. Hermione, the smartest one of their year, barely passed hers. She hated that fact.

"Alright? You okay?" she asked, looking into his sad eyes.

"I guess. I'm just so lost. What are we going to do? We've been going to these events all summer, and we don't change anything."

"I know what you mean. I'm in a funk myself. I've applied to a few positions, and they really want me, but... they're waving the skills requirements for me to get the post. I mean, technically, we didn't graduate, Harry."

"I'm sorry Hermione. I never wanted you to miss you education."

"Harry, it is most definitely not your fault. We had to. Plus, I would have ended up in Azkaban myself if I came back last year. But enough let's go. Ron's not going to wait forever."

"You're right. Will you try Madam Marchbanks, again?"

"Of course, Harry. She loved me at my OWL exams. I think I can convince her. I'll also talk to Madam Hopkirk, too. I'll be forceful."

"Thank you, Hermione. Thank you for supporting me. Though you're the only one," Harry said, bitterly.

"It'll be okay. Ron and Ginny will come around. They miss their brother and blaming Death Eaters is the easiest way to cope."

Harry nodded. His relationship with Ginny was on the rocks. She didn't think his priorities were in the right place. She had been very close to her brother, too.

Harry held out his arm for her and Hermione took it. Ron was waiting outside the door and he took Hermione's other arm. They entered the hall together, ready to face the horde of paparazzi on the other side. A small cloud of acrid smoke erupted from the horde of photographers, preening to get a prime shot of the Golden Trio. Harry controlled his face. He had to be diplomatic, right now.

Hermione pulled them through the throng and past the rope bridge that corralled the flashing mob from the party guests. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as they escaped to the other side. But Harry couldn't relax too much. He might have cleared the chattering of the seagulls, but now he was in the shark pit. His only clear ally gave him a one last nod of support before letting go and dragging Ron with her as she went to mingle.

Harry put on his mask. He wove through the crowd of Ministry officials, shaking their hands, thanking them for their birthday greetings and well wishes. He maintained his calm and cool expression, though he hated every second. Politics was an unfeeling business. He almost didn't want any part of the Ministry, or being an Auror anymore. He wanted to scream at every last one of them for being vengeful idiots. But he didn't, as much as he wanted to.

After near an hour of accepting words from near strangers, he met up with Hermione and Ron for dinner. Ron's mother and father, Percy Weasley, and a few other members of the Order sat with him, offering no real substantial conversation. Harry gave his speech, which fell seemingly on deaf ears. His rage churned. Nothing changed.

After the tables were cleared, Harry found himself free to pursue his mission. He cornered the Minister of Magic, himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"I already know what you are going to ask, Harry," the dark-skinned wizard said, dryly, his voice thick with resignation.

"Then I'll say it again," Harry growled, unable to control his anger.

"You are going to need a lot more than a few votes to change anything. I'm not going to side against the entire Wizengamot. I won't do it, even for you," Kingsley said, his lips curled downward in sympathy.

"He doesn't deserve to be there, Kingsley... Minister."

"I... agree with you, reluctantly. Your heart has always been in the right place, Harry. But he's a convicted Death Eater. You're not going to elicit the type of support you want. Moreover, you are going to need some sort of new evidence for the Wizengamot to even review the sentence, much less overthrow it."

"New evidence?" Harry asked looking at the Minister, intrigued.

"It's the other way you've been avoiding. Clemency might be within my power, Harry. That's why you're pestering me, but I have to think of my career, Harry."

"Fudge use to think of his career, too." Harry said, staring into his eyes.

Kingsley tensed. "If anyone else had said that, I might of hexed them, Minister or not. But I take your point. Everyone is still frazzled, Harry. A known Death Eater walking free? People might hunt him down themselves... and me. You want someone else running the Ministry?"

"No."

"Then don't force me to commit political suicide."

"I-" Harry stopped, stumped. "What kind of new evidence?"

"Mitigating circumstances, proof he crossed-over or was under the Imperious Curse... something like that. Unfortunately, many of his former group members, gave ample evidence that he wasn't forced. I haven't heard of one thing that shows he helped you, Harry, either. That's why he was readily and immediately convicted. He even plead guilty. It's hard to overturn a self-endorsed conviction."

Harry lowered his head. That part was hard. He had seen the hesitation and doubt in Malfoy's eyes. His fear and how broken he was. That was hard to put into words, much less be the new evidence that Kingsley wanted.

It was near three months ago, when Harry watched Draco Malfoy being brought into the dungeon courtroom that housed the Wizengamot War Trials. The two Aurors were at his side, each with a hand on Malfoy's shoulder. The dementors were not yet in place. Harry had been furious that they were to be put back into Azkaban. Free labor. Free torture. He was still sore about it. The Ministry argued that it would save lives to re-incorporate them into the Ministry's service, again. Harry had stormed out of that meeting with the Wizengamot.

He hadn't been as learned in the art of politics, back then. He made enemies. Even the power of his name wasn't enough to force the elder members of the Wizengamot to listen to him.

But he watched Malfoy with increasing concern. His school rival stared blankly at the floor, lifeless. His father had been convicted and executed by the Court only a few days ago. Harry knew that Malfoy knew, but hadn't even got to say goodbye to his father. The Court's decision to re-insinuate the Death Penalty hadn't sat well with him, either. But he and Hermione were outnumbered.

Still, Malfoy didn't look up once. The Aurors had left his arm bare, his Mark clear for all to see. He listened as the charges went on for nearly ten minutes of crimes he was accused of. Some were blanket crimes all Death Eaters at the Battle of Hogwarts were charged with, but most stemmed from allegations pulled out of other Death Eaters and the defenders of Hogwarts. His former friends didn't protect him at all. Even Draco's father, threw him to the wolves. Harry could only wonder what had happened between them.

Malfoy didn't even look up when he spoke the single word that condemned him, "Guilty". Harry could only watch in disbelief while the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot decided that to honor Draco's plea and give him the automatic sentence his crimes dictated. They hadn't even asked any questions or for a statement. Summary judgment. It might have been different if he had fought the charges. Harry was ready to speak for him. After all, they had been through so much, over the last 7 years. He wasn't even 18 at that point. But in the Court's eyes, that didn't matter. Wizards are adults at 17 and responsible enough.

The only emotion Malfoy gave during his brief courtroom appearance, was when he flinched at the delivery of the sentence. He never even looked up. There was none of his confidence or his pride left. Harry's heart throbbed to see Malfoy so broken. Draco didn't resist the pull of the Aurors as they led him back out. Just like that, Malfoy was gone. Forever entombed in the hell-hole of Azkaban.

Too late, he tried to argue to the Court that they made a mistake, but it was then that he realized his placement in the Wizengamot was ceremonial. He had a vote, but the wizened members of the Court saw the Savior as a boy, with no real knowledge of tradition and the laws of the Court. Even Hermione had only a rudimentary understanding of the Court's rules and norms. She was the only one who voted for his cry for an appeal. There was no second. Even if there was one, he'd need half the Court to agree to an appeal, just to review the case. Then a new vote could be called, which still was no guarantee, they would side with Harry.

From that point on, he had been working diligently to make the individual members of the Court to change their mind and reverse the conviction. He still needed 10 votes for a new trial. An uphill battle. As Malfoy had offered no defense of his actions, the Court members could only see Malfoy by his name and his actions. He was the son of a prominent, twice-convicted Death Eater, who joined his father's cause and willingly accepted the brand of the Dark Mark. He spent an entire year trying to kill Dumbledore and had nearly killed two others, including Ron, and let a group of killers into Hogwarts. He used Unforgivable Curses on the owner of the Three Broomsticks and several Death Eaters and had fought at the Battle of Hogwarts for Voldemort. The public hated him and the Court showed him the same disdain as they did Fenrir Greyback.

They had no idea of the other side of the 온라인카지노게임. Harry had the inside view of Voldemort ordering Malfoy to torture people. How Voldemort threatened to kill his family. How Malfoy didn't betray him when he'd been captured and taken to Malfoy Manor, as a prisoner. Malfoy knew exactly who he was, but didn't sell him out. He didn't hardly defend himself when Harry broke out either. Draco was as skilled duelist as he was, maybe even better. Then at the Battle of Hogwarts, he tried to stop his friends from killing Harry.

None of it was ironclad proof that Malfoy was ever under the Imperious Curse or that he had betrayed Voldemort. Cowardice wasn't "mitigating circumstances". Hesitation wasn't defection.

Harry looked back up at Kingsley. "Minister... how can I convince them he doesn't deserve it?" He hated how desperate he sounded.

"I don't know, Harry. That's why I can't change the verdict just because you ask. No matter if you are the Chosen One. The Court has spoken and is it really right if I just usurp their power from them? I believe you that... well, I honestly don't. But I trust you, Harry. You can count on my vote, at the very least."

"Thank you for that, I suppose."

"Can I ask... why do you care so much? He's a Death Eater."

Harry grimaced. He had asked himself that question many times. It could just be the childhood familiarity of knowing Draco Malfoy since they were 11. The clips of visions he had from Voldemort told him that Draco wasn't there of his own volition. Then the night on the Tower. He had lowered his wand. Even surrounded by Voldemort's minions, who ordered him to kill Dumbledore, he didn't, wouldn't, even to save himself. Draco had covered for him at the Manor, too. There was more to the 온라인카지노게임. More to Draco, then a broken coward.

Harry could help him and he had to. But where could he find the information? Harry felt a flicker of hope. From Malfoy, he realized.

"Minister, can I have permission to visit Draco Malfoy in Azkaban?"

Kingsley looked at him. "I guess I can arrange it. Might be a week or so."

"A week?"

"Sure, the dementors don't like surprise guests."

Harry's expression soured. The old insult and the first loss he had against the might of the Wizengamot. "I can't believe you allowed them back there," Harry said, flatly, losing the grip he had on civility.

"One battle at a time, Harry," Kingsley sighed. "There are dangerous wizards in there, not just young Malfoy. Dementors will drain them of their powers."

"Those creatures also make their victims relive the most miserable moments of their life. I remember exactly how they hurt people. Maybe you can live with causing that much pain to another individual, but I can't."

"Okay, Harry. I see your point. I will arrange your visit as soon as possible. It's an easy request compared to your other... demands. But I'm sure you have other people to talk to. Don't waste your time on me. I'll support you when the moment comes."

Harry nodded respectfully, "Thank you. I wish things had been different since the beginning."

Harry moved away from the Minister and worked his way through the crowd, confronting several other members of the Wizengamot, with no real gain made. He was about to find Hermione when he nearly plowed into his old Head of House and the current Headmistress of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall.

"Professor!" he exclaimed, with enthusiasm. He had rarely seen her since the battle. She had been busy re-building Hogwarts. It was a delicate procedure, despite the powerful witch's skill. The castle was imbued with powerful spells that had to be reworked to bring it back to former glory.

"I think that after you save the world and leave school, titles are somewhat unnecessary, Mr. Potter," she said with a curt smile.

"Umm..." Harry started and then realized his longtime professor was joking. "I couldn't imagine calling you anything different, Headmistress."

"Of course."

"Professor, what's wrong? I've never seen you outside of school... and I suppose at my house that one time."

"I've decided to come to your birthday party," she said, wryly.

Harry gave her a look and said, "Thank you? I guess, though the party wasn't my idea."

"I'm sure. I also know you wouldn't fail in your... duties. They are the ones that want to celebrate your success. But I am here for another reason, Potter."

"Is something wrong, Professor?" he asked, concerned. McGonagall was one of the people he would drop everything to help.

"Nothing is wrong," she said, the thin line of her mouth twitching in amusement. "I've been talking with Ms. Granger. I've been thinking about you and the others of your year. None of you got a real chance to complete your education, Harry."

Harry looked at her, stunned. His mind leading him to what she was suggesting. "Yes?"

"Not one of you received the marks you would have, if you had properly completed your seventh year."

"I know, but why are you telling me this?"

"I have been working on allowing you and your classmates back to Hogwarts, if that is what you would like. For an eighth year."

"An eighth year? Is that even possible?" he said.

"I believe I'll be able to make it happen. All of you could use a full-year of education. I've cleared it with the NEWT board and they will allow any student to retake the exams and your professors have agreed to take on the extra workload of another full... or less-than-full class. Some students won't return, surely, and others can't."

Harry felt a flicker of hope. His dream might actually be realized, but he frowned at her last words. Malfoy.

"I would have loved to, Professor. But I can't..."

"I see. Would this have to do with the plans Ms. Granger told me about?"

"I-Yes. What do you think of them?"

McGonagall gave him a critiquing stare through her square glasses. "I think your plan is... ambitious."

Harry was thrown by her choice of words. "Is that all?"

"I don't completely understand the difficult position you are in, Potter. But you may be idolizing what Malfoy has gone through."

"And what I should just leave him there?"

"No. I wouldn't want that either. I'm saying is that you may be fighting a lost cause at this point. Who knows what his father and Voldemort did to him. And what Azkaban is doing to his already shattered mind. He very well might not recover. He could spend the rest of his life a St. Mungo's." Harry looked at her, horrified. She put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm not going to sugar-coat it, Potter."

"So, I shouldn't try?"

"I did not say that either. I'm just expressing my concerns, and that your "assistance" isn't going to end with him getting released. You will have to take that responsibility, too."

Harry nodded though he wasn't sure he completely understood. "And I will."

"Good. And when you make your play in the Wizengamot, due send me an owl. You will have my vote."

"Your vote?" Harry asked, surprised.

"I'm part of the Wizengamot, too, Harry. I haven't felt the need to attend as I have been busy getting the school ready. Professor Flitwick and I will be glad to come in to vote for a good cause. And you'll find our weight carries more than two young adults, who didn't graduate, in the court's eyes."

Harry smiled and said, "Thank you, Professor. For everything."

"Anytime, Harry," Professor McGonagall said and walked anyway.

Harry almost ran in his haste to find Hermione.