Soul Mate - Chapter 9:
After a formal hearing, the Ministry of Magic issued the following judgment
concerning Lucius Malfoy.
Former senior official of the Ministry, Lucius Malfoy, was found guilty of joining the illegal
organization known as the Death Eaters, founded by Lord Voldemort.
He was involved in multiple unprovoked killings of Muggles and supported acts of persecution
against non-pure-bl00d wizards. However, as he did not participate in the final battle and offered
no resistance after the war, showing signs of genuine remorse, the Ministry has ruled as follows,
a fine of five hundred thousand Galleons, the permanent loss of political rights,
and five years of confinement within Malfoy Manor.
After a formal hearing, the Ministry of Magic issued the following judgment
concerning Narcissa Malfoy.
Narcissa Malfoy, former lady of the Malfoy family, was also found to have joined the illegal
organization known as the Death Eaters. However, as she did not personally participate in acts of
persecution and, during the final battle, saved the life of Harry Potter an act that directly altered
the course of the war—the Ministry has ruled as follows,
a fine of two hundred thousand Galleons and the permanent loss of political rights.
This can’t be real. Draco stared wide-eyed at the Ministry decree delivered by the Malfoy family’s
owl. He had expected leniency for his mother, but his father’s sentence how could it be so light?
No Azkaban. Just a fine and five years of confinement within the manor?
You all right, Draco? What’s the result? Blaise leaned forward, concerned.
Without waiting for an answer, he plucked the parchment from Draco’s hands and read it quickly.
His expression turned incredulous. Draco, you didn’t tell me you didn’t ask the
Chosen One to plead for them?
Do you think that’s even possible? Draco snapped, snatching the letter back.
After a moment of thought, his expression darkened further. He moved to his desk,
began scribbling a reply to his parents, and muttered,
I’d say it’s far more likely that our dear savior couldn’t resist meddling.
That’s exactly the kind of thing a Gryffindor would do,
Blaise said with a shrug, completely unbothered by the thought.
Hmph. And I’d bet he didn’t stop with my family, Draco said coolly,
sweeping his gaze across the Slytherin common room.
Pansy caught the look first. What do you mean by that, Draco?
I mean, I don’t know whether it’s his overflowing Gryffindor compassion or sheer stupidity,
Draco replied, finishing his short letter and tying it to his owl’s leg.
But if he interfered in my parents’ trial, he probably did the same for the others.
I’d wager he asked the Ministry to be lenient and to keep Slytherin House out of it.
It didn’t take much imagination to picture that green-eyed, thick-headed savior doing exactly that.
Draco felt a grudging sense of relief that his father had been spared another stay in Azkaban
but honestly, meddling in the Ministry’s business?
Only a brainless Gryffindor troll would dare something so reckless.
Did Harry Potter really think the Savior’s halo would always protect him?
Maybe now it worked in his favor, but five years from now?
Ten? Twenty?
When that youthful charm turned into real power when his followers grew,
when his fame eclipsed every wizard alive what would the Ministry and the
Wizengamot think of him then?
Draco could already imagine it. Within a decade, the Ministry would start keeping its distance,
perhaps even preparing to guard against him. And this time, when the so-called savior had forced
their hand in such a public trial, the seeds of mistrust had already been planted.
Did that scar-headed idiot really not understand what it meant to keep a low profile?
To wait, to lie low, to bide his time?
The Savior’s usual stupidity was one thing, but what in Merlin’s name was Granger thinking?
Since when did Gryffindors concern themselves with Slytherin affairs?
A dull headache began pulsing behind Draco’s eyes.
Between his family’s wartime choices and this trial’s outcome,
he knew what the world would assume now. For years to come perhaps decades
he would be seen as part of Potter’s camp. And as the new head of the Malfoy family,
that meant the entire House of Malfoy would be branded as one of the Savior’s allies.
Bloody brilliant.
That brainless lion had better behave himself for the next several years quietly, carefully,
without incident or Draco swore he’d cast an Avada Kedavra and
send him off to share tea with Voldemort in the afterlife.
The Slytherins in the common room exchanged nervous glances.
Their house prince’s expression was darkening by the second, a storm gathering on his face.
One by one, they retreated, inch by inch. Even Blaise, usually the most unflappable of them,
wisely decided to sit down somewhere far away and open a book.
At Malfoy Manor, Narcissa glanced at her husband still fuming
and then at the letter from their son. With a sigh that mixed weariness and quiet relief,
she opened it. As her eyes moved down the parchment, her expression softened,
and a faint smile tugged at her lips.
What did he say? Lucius’s voice was stiff with resentment, but curiosity won out.
Narcissa laughed softly and sat beside him. Oh, Lucius, don’t sulk.
Our dear little dragon says he didn’t ask Harry Potter for anything.
It seems this was the boy’s own decision and for us, it turned out quite well, didn’t it?
Lucius’s mouth twitched. The Potters really do have a family habit of meddling.
Harry is just like his father.
Seventy thousand Galleons in fines is nothing to the Malfoys, Narcissa said lightly.
And losing our political rights isn’t the end of the world either.
Our son will accomplish far greater things than we ever did. But five years of confinement
she gave him a wry smile it will be hard on you, dear.
Hardly. Lucius waved a hand. After years of endless chaos,
perhaps it’s time to enjoy a little peace. Five years at home is
still far preferable to eternity in Azkaban.
That’s true. If we weren’t confined to the manor, I’d say it was the perfect time for us to travel,
see the world. Narcissa’s eyes gleamed at the thought, then dimmed with a sigh.
But perhaps staying home will be good for us. You can finally recover properly.
Recover, yes. Since Voldemort’s return, the Cruciatus Curse had become almost routine.
And he wasn’t young anymore. The pain both physical and mental had taken its toll.
When had the Dark Lord grown so obsessed with that curse?
Lucius fell quiet, then hesitated. Cissy…
I suppose, well, perhaps we ought to thank Potter.
In person.
Oh, damnable etiquette. For once, he loathed his own aristocratic upbringing.
Narcissa blinked, then smiled. Of course, dear. And as the heir to the Black family,
there are things I’d like to discuss with him as well.
Then we’ll invite him after the N.E.W.T.s, Lucius muttered,
looking as though he’d swallowed a doxy.
Good. I’ll write to our little dragon right away and ask him to deliver the invitation,
Narcissa said cheerfully, gliding from the room, her steps light and graceful.
Lucius sighed, rubbing his temples. Five years of confinement suddenly felt much, much longer.