Better Than Expected

A deathly calm reigned in the Ministry throughout the day. Draco Malfoy had soon got confirmation from a colleague that Harry Potter was indeed being detained somewhere in the building, but he could not find out more for several hours. Around noon, an Enforcer came back from St Mungo's and announced that the lives of those who had been injured during the capture were no longer endangered. Apparently, this time they had been willing to take risks to ensure their captive was taken alive. Malfoy also learned that some of these operatives had been on guard duty at Fort Nox. Had Potter tried to break into the most heavily guarded building in wizarding Britain? Surely by now he would have learned to be more cautious than that.

The day dragged on and no further information was released. Draco Malfoy assumed the captive was being interrogated somewhere, but his Department had received no official notice and nobody dared asking questions. The Ministry employees were pretending to go about their daily tasks as per usual, but it was painfully obvious that they were all holding their breath.

At last, shortly before they were due to leave, they received a circular owl from the Minister's personal secretary herself.

Instantly, all pretence this was just an ordinary day was dropped as they all reached eagerly for the piece of parchment. They need not have bothered.

Gasps of excitement were soon followed by growls of rage and frustration as they all realised the letter had nothing to tell them they did not already know.

Malfoy's immediate superior, the mild-mannered Tarquinius Cauterby, was a man known to all for his phlegm and composure. Yet, on that occasion he was heard swearing profusely at the outrageous missive.

Dear Colleagues,

It may have come to your attention that a certain wizard, the identity of whom needs not be disclosed, is currently in the care of the Enforcing Department. It is my duty to remind you all that data pertaining to Enforcement Procedures is not to be divulged or otherwise discussed beyond the precincts of the Ministry itself (Wizarding Security Act 4, Clause 27, § 8 and Wizarding Security Act 5, Clause 7, § 2-3). Any infringement of the said stipulation will be met with appropriate action (Wizarding Security Act 4, Clause 27, § 9-13 and Wizarding Security Act 5, Clause 7, § 4-8). To further ensure your security, secrecy spells will be performed on all the wizards, witches and other sentient creatures leaving the building.

Yours Sincerely,

Hydrangea Polydorus.

Personal Secretary to the Minister of Magic Himself in Person.

Malfoys do not swear in public, so Draco did not, but he couldn't help sympathising with his superior's reaction. If it was to say that, they should not have written anything.

Nevertheless, the owl seemed to have the desired effect as most employees soon went home, now convinced they would not learn more by staying longer. Some were skittish about having to undergo secrecy spells, but there was no way around it.

Draco Malfoy was tempted to stay, just in case, but he seriously doubted anything new would come up that evening. Instead, he cleared his desk and went home. Not to Malfoy Manor of course. He had not climbed back the social ladder so high yet that he could use his influence to regain the family properties that had been forfeited to the Ministry of Magic during the war. At the moment, he had to be content with a small flat on the outskirts of London's Wizarding District.

There was no one waiting for him there so even without a secrecy spell he would not have been able to discuss the day's events with anybody. Secrecy spells cannot prevent thinking however, so that's just what he did.

*** *** ***

If Enforcement followed the regular procedure, they would have to give notice to the Department of Justice of their capture and of the charges held against the suspect within forty-eight hours of the beginning of detention. By this reckoning, they would know what was coming by Thursday at the latest and they could probably convene the Wizengamot and arrange proceedings to start by the end of the month, perhaps later if -- as it was likely given the identity of the suspect -- the presence of the full Wizengamot was required.

But that was supposing the Enforcers would play by the rules. If they chose not to, and the circular they had received implied they had the full backing of the Minister himself, then anything could happen.

They could keep the Boy Who Lived in confinement for a whole year or more and nobody would be the wiser. Admittedly, they might not want to take such a risk, but they might very well take as long as necessary to get a full disclosure of Potter's activities during and after the war.

Could they use such information to blackmail Potter into supporting the Ministry in some way? Would Potter be so easy to control though? He had never been too bright, but he could be rather stubborn and he did not have a great record of submitting meekly to authority.

The more Draco Malfoy thought about it, the more it seemed likely to him that the Potter Affair, as he was already calling it, might take a while before it came to a conclusion, whatever that conclusion might be.

Just in case, he set his alarm clock even earlier than usually to be at the Ministry at the crack of dawn.

*** *** ***

Seven o'clock found a bleary-eyed Draco Malfoy walking up Reg Alley, where the Ministry had relocated after the War.

On the few occasions when he had had to leave his home that early, the streets had been all but deserted. It was almost the case that morning. Almost, but not quite.

There was a flurry of activity by the Daily Prophet headquarters.

Although Draco Malfoy could not hear what those people were saying yet, he could already sense their excitement. Had someone overcome the secrecy spell and informed a journalist about Potter's capture? With a smirk on his face, he tried to guess who would have to face 'appropriate action' from Enforcement as stipulated in Wizarding Security Acts 4 and 5. Perhaps he would get to hear the statement of one of his colleagues today? That would definitely be entertaining.

As Draco Malfoy drew closer, he noticed the posters behind the group of people chatting animatedly. It really was Potter's picture on them and if Malfoy's eyes were not so full of sleep still, he would probably be able to read the caption by now.

At last, he was close enough and what he saw cleared his foggy mind more efficiently than any bottle of Wak'e'potion©.

Potter's bright eyes seemed to be glaring furiously at him and just underneath red capital letters read:

Ministry Captures

N° 1 Public Enemy

Trial Tomorrow

Tomorrow? That could not be right. There was no way they could organize proceedings in such a short time! Now in a great hurry to get to his office, Draco Malfoy sped through the knot of journalists and caught some of their words as he went.

'... four of them in St Mungo's. Can you imagine that? My sister says...'

' ... was bound to happen, didn't I tell you, just the other day...'

'... couldn't believe it! What do you think they're going to do now?...'

What indeed? Such a prompt trial would give little time to find the appropriate way to deal with the delicate Potter Affair.

Draco Malfoy walked quickly through the atrium and grabbed a copy of the Daily Prophet from the Main Desk. The employee who weighed his wand was practically bouncing with excitement. The man pointed at the newspaper. 'Crazy days we're living in, isn't it true, sir?'

He was obviously waiting for some comment, but Malfoy did not give him that satisfaction.

As he climbed the stairs to his office, he mulled over the reactions he had witnessed so far. People seemed excited, curious, uncertain at best about the turn of events, but nobody had seemed shocked that the Saviour of Wizardkind would soon be on trial.

N° 1 Public Enemy. Potter had come a long way since last time they met.

Not for the first time, Draco Malfoy wondered what Harry Potter could possibly have done to deserve that title.

*** *** ***

Draco Malfoy usually tried not to think of the War, but with Potter's name on everyone's lips and thoughts, it was hard not to be drawn into a past he would rather forget. The night had been full of nightmares, images of voracious werewolves mingling with the faces of eager Ministry officials, and now those images would not leave him.

It was his own damned fault for obsessing about Potter once again too. What business had he trying to guess what the Ministry was after. If for once he listened to reason and just minded his own business instead of focussing on the Boy Who Lived, it would probably be a good thing.

It would make his life easier at any rate.

Hopefully, the humdrum of daily work would help him keep Potter and the War out of his mind.

He did not have much faith in this plan, but he did not expect it to be so spectacularly thwarted the moment he stepped into his office.

*** *** ***

When Draco Malfoy came in, Tarquinius Cauterby was absent-mindedly twiddling a quill, his deep blue eyes clouded with uncertainty... or was it worry? Cauterby was well over ninety years old and had worked in the Department of Justice most of his life. He had started working there during Grindelwald's rise to power and had subsequently proceeded to work there quietly and efficiently, unruffled by the many mass trials, ministry overhauls and political crises that had shaken the country. He went about his work with the same understated skill he had shown all his life and wore in all circumstances the polite air blasé of a man who has seen so much that nothing you tell him could possibly surprise him, but who will listen to you patiently all the same because that's the proper thing to do.

Malfoy appreciated the reliability of the old-fashioned gentleman and would probably have respected his opinions if his boss had been the kind of person who would share them with anybody.

Cauterby sedately placed the quill back on the desk and turned his eyes to the young man. His look was sharp now and when he spoke his voice was just as emotionless and yet comforting as ever.

'Mr Malfoy, how good of you to come so early.' The smile was warm enough but did not touch his eyes. 'You may sit down.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Would you be so kind as to cast a glance at that beige file in front of you?'

Malfoy took the file in his hands and opened it, only to be met with the furious glare of Harry Potter once again.

'But, this is Potter's file!' He stammered awkwardly before regaining his composure. 'I beg your pardon sir, but I'm not quite sure why you would present me with this particular file. Surely there isn't much that can be done with it if the trial is for tomorrow...'

'And indeed I'm not asking you to do much, Mr Malfoy. Most of the proceedings have been taken care of by Enforcement, as I'm sure you're aware.' Draco Malfoy thought he could hear a note of disapproval in his superior's voice. 'The only missing element is the signature at the bottom of the defendant's statement, which must be appended in presence of a member of our department. I have arranged for you to gain access to the defendant's cell at 5:20 this afternoon. Please, read through this and prepare the necessary paperwork.'

'And if Po', ahem, if he-- if he's unwilling to sign?'

'This needs not concern you, prosecution will proceed just the same. Any other question?'

'No, sir.'

'I will leave you to your work then.'

*** *** ***

Draco Malfoy could have kicked himself. There he was, waiting in a dark and humid corridor to be granted access to a prisoner cell, and he was as nervous as a teenager waiting for his first date. Not that he had ever been nervous in the slightest with Pansy Parkinson of course. He had always known his own worth and that if anybody had reason to be nervous it was not him.

Yet now he was awfully anxious. Never mind that he was only required to get a stupid signature on a piece of parchment, a signature he would probably not be given, at that. Never mind that he could not care less for what happened to that particular prisoner -- well, apart perhaps from a purely intellectual interest in the workings of British wizarding Justice, of course, but that was merely part of his job.

For the first time since he left Hogwarts, he was going to speak with Harry Potter and the thought was paralysing.

Would he remember the part Draco had played in the War? Would Dumbledore's Golden Boy lord his saintly superiority over Draco, even now that he was the enemy and Draco part of the establishment?

Malfoy knew he had nothing to fear from Potter -- not that he had ever been afraid of him -- and that nobody valued Potter's opinions anymore these days. However, he had no wish of getting in yet another confrontation with the other man, as when they were both in school.

Having to face him at all was already bad enough.

With some luck he would still be under the effect of Veritaserum or some such potion and he would be too drugged to even register Malfoy's presence. He might even have forgotten him.

CLANG

Draco Malfoy started when he heard the noise of the iron grid. The guard was coming back to grant him access to the high-security corridor in which Potter's cell was located.

Malfoy stepped onto the other side of the grid and submitted himself to yet another search. Honestly, you would think he had nothing better to do than bringing a rope and a file to a prisoner. He sighed.

'Are you okay, sir? You look kind of pale--'

'I'm perfectly fine,' Malfoy answered, rather more loudly than he would have wished. 'Now, can we get on with it?' The nerve of that guard! The Ministry really hired anybody these days.

At last he was led into a cell of outstanding dimensions. It was not particularly wide, but extremely long, more like a corridor than a room. It was also incredibly high and the light coming from the few windows near the ceiling barely reached the floor.

At first, Malfoy was surprised not to see the door that would lead him to Potter's cell itself, but then the guard pointed a shape at the end of the room and Malfoy realised that this was not just another passage, but that he was already in the N° 1 Public Enemy's cell.

*** *** ***

Another guard was already inside, but he kept close to the door, and the first guard would not go further in either.

Malfoy stared in incomprehension for an instant, then noticed that it was now the guard's turn to look rather pale. He was obviously afraid of going further in, no matter his instructions to watch the prisoner closely. Both guard studiously watched the empty air, avoiding both Malfoy's incredulous gaze and the dark shape at the end of the room.

The Slytherin shrugged. He had a job to complete and he would not let himself be intimidated by the superstitions of two dunderheads.

His steps echoed as he walked towards the end of the room. The dark shape he had noticed slowly resolved itself into the silhouette of a man slumped over a desk, his hands and feet bound with heavy chains.

When Draco Malfoy reached the desk, the man sat up and looked straight at him. A flicker of recognition lit the green eyes, instantly turning into a steadier glimmer. Was it hope? Potter must be desperate indeed if he had no better person to place his hope into.

*** *** ***

Draco Malfoy ignored the prisoner's searching eyes and started on his job. He grabbed a chair, sat at the desk and took out the statement, which he placed in front the other man. All the while, he spoke slowly and clearly, delivering a speech he had given many times before. 'Good afternoon, sir. My name is Draco Malfoy and I am a representative of the Department of Justice. I am here to ascertain the authenticity and legality of this document, known as the defendant's statement. The statement is a faithful recording of your words and it will be used in court to present your views to the Wizengamot. Once signed, its content is binding and you may not afterwards...' Harry Potter made a strange noise, as if clearing his throat, and Malfoy faltered for a moment, before pursuing, '...you may not afterwards alter in any way or reject, either partially or totally, the...'

'Cut the crap.' The voice was deep and ragged; it didn't sound like anything Malfoy remembered. 'We both know this is pointless, Malfoy.'

'Sir, I am a representative of the Department of...'

'I know who you are,' Potter cut him. 'I haven't lost my memory yet, thanks. Now, will you look at me or are you going to stare at nothing like the two idiots over there?'

A wave of embarrassment came over Malfoy. He cursed himself for that weakness and looked up from his folder. Potter's features were partially obscured by his messy hair and the heavy frame of his glasses. What was visible looked faintly grey, more like a ghost than like a living person. The eyes, however, disproved the impression of death, their murky green the only trace of colour in the tired face. The intensity of that stare unsettled Malfoy. It was not the glare of pure loathing he had been used to receive from Potter when they were in Hogwarts, but it was nothing like the vaguely indifferent looks he received from his co-workers nowadays. The eyes were dark, but within their depths glowed a fierce, raw energy, like blazing bonfires glimpsed from afar in the night. Suddenly, Malfoy felt like he was the ghost and only the man in front of him was truly alive. He repressed a shiver. When Potter spoke again, his voice was still harsh and broken, but it was animated with steely resolve.

'I need you to save her.'

'I beg your pardon?' Malfoy stammered.

'I need you to save Ginny Weasley.' The suggestion was so ludicrous that Malfoy would have laughed if he hadn't felt trapped with a dangerous and obviously insane criminal. Apparently oblivious of his incredulity, Potter went on, 'Someone needs to go find her by the end of the week. I left her in a former base of the Order of the Phoenix. The access is protected by spells, but I will tell you how to get past them. The location...'

'Shut up!' Malfoy realised he had shouted. The guards behind him stirred, but they did not come closer. He lowered his voice and let his words spill fast and frantic. 'What do you think you're doing? Who do you think you're talking to? I despise the Weasleys. I hate you. If Ginny Weasley needs company, you can go yourself after your trial or send a friend. Now, I have a statement that requires your...'

'Don't you understand? All my friends have left the country or been killed and I'll be dead myself in two days' time. I won't let them kill her too. There's no one else. You've got to...'

'Stop it! Nobody's going to die. You're just going to be put on trial by perfectly reasonable people, and so will she once we find her, and then...' Draco Malfoy hesitated.

'Then what? Stop hiding your face in the ground, Malfoy. Voldemort might be dead, but my side lost the war alright and the winners have no mercy. You'd be a fool not to see it. Ginny's the last one. She must leave the country before the ministry finds her.'

'Well,' Malfoy said angrily, 'all the more reason for you to shut up. I work for the ministry, for Merlin's sake. What can make you think I'd go out of my way to protect your girlfriend? Are you out of your mind?'

'I'm desperate,' Harry Potter answered defiantly. 'She's dead if no one helps her. She got caught with a Shrivelling Curse three days ago; she can't walk anymore and if she isn't given Devil's Draught fairly soon, she'll die. I tried to steal some from Fort Nox, but I failed. You're my only chance.'

Malfoy scoffed.

'You might think I'm crazy, Malfoy, but I'm not. I know it's not much of a chance, but it's all I've got and I'm going to use it. The base is located in a cave by...'

'Will you shut up! I won't help you. I don't want to hear anything about it!'

'What, not even to reveal the information to Enforcement?' Potter asked somewhat ironically. Malfoy was at a loss for words for a moment. Then he said, 'Look, I want no part in this. Just leave it.'

'Sorry, I can't. I am bound to death and free from the world.' Malfoy turned white as he recognised the words. He wanted to stop Potter from speaking, but just sat mesmerised by the sheer horror of what was happening. He heard the rest of the speech through a sort of stupor, 'My burden is now yours, an honour for you or a bane for me. I hereby make the Dead Man's Request: I request that you find Ginny Weasley, give her Devil's Draught and help her to get out of the country alive.' Potter fell silent and looked at him.

At last, Malfoy asked, 'Do you have any idea what you've just done?' His voice sounded hollow to his own ears.

'I think that was a Dead Man's Request. Now it's up to you, Malfoy, your honour or my bane.'

Draco Malfoy had no idea where Potter might have heard of that spell. It was ancient. Some considered it a curse; others said it was not even a real spell, just raw magic let loose. Either way, Potter had pronounced the Request perfectly; there was no way to get around it now. The principle of the Dead Man's Request was quite simple. It didn't even require the use of a wand. If someone about to die felt there was something crucial that needed to be done, but that they would not be able to achieve it themselves before they died, they could beg someone to do it for them by uttering the Dead Man's Request. If the person complied, it would bring them honour and good luck. If they did not, they would be unscathed but the Dead Man's soul would be trapped between earth and beyond until the act was accomplished. Quite a few souls had been trapped that way, which had earned the spell its bad reputation.

'You know you've just condemned your soul to be an eternal prisoner, then?'

'Well,' Harry Potter answered, 'I think it all depends on your decision. Now you're holding one life and one soul in your hands.'

Malfoy felt tempted to spit in that arrogant face and leave the room. Potter had no right to impose that kind of responsibility on him. Potter ignored his hateful glare and just proceeded to give him all the details about Ginny Weasley's situation. Malfoy absorbed the information without wanting to, damning Potter to Hell while hating the fact he now had the actual power to inflict a hardly better fate on his soul.

'Is that it?' he spat at last. 'Now you're expecting me to run along like a good boy and do what I'm told?'

'I'm not expecting anything,' Potter answered grimly. 'I just have one chance and I'm making the most of it.' He paused for a while, then added with a wry smile, 'And I guess I've always wanted to find out whether Draco Malfoy was really a murderer or if he had a conscience after all.'

Malfoy snatched the statement form, furious, and stormed away from the desk. Soon he was out of the cell and as far from Potter as he possibly could, which was not nearly far enough.