Hexing the Tide

Chapter Seven

"Judge me, O LORD; for I have walked in mine integrity."

Psalm 26

The cell was not as desirable to me as it had been just a month ago. Still, it was clean and warm, which was certainly much better than my destination. But I found myself at the end of a tale strangely lacking. It would have been so much more poetic to have fallen with the house. Or at the hands of my wife, perhaps even on the Lammas night battle. Instead, I had outlived my span, destined to haunt Azkaban until the years finally corrected the error.

Ah, what I would have given for a glass of wine to ease me through that interlude. More so, one laced with hemlock.

But I was not to be kept in such a state long. The Ministry was quick to administer me, for they wished to get back to celebrating Voldemort's demise and processing the aftermath. I was nothing more than a distraction to most of the population, a final bit of dust yet to settle. Very few were even aware I was still alive until I came to trial.

Weasley came to fetch me for my hearing. He fussed a tiny bit, making sure I was presentable for the courts, but I could care less. This seemed to bother him more than one would think. It was as if he wanted some sort of sign from me but after a few attempts he gave even up on conversation. He finished quietly and I allowed him to lead me into a completely full Courtroom Ten.

I sat smoothly in the chair. The bindings crept across me but I merely waited. This was my third experience with the restraints and I hadn't the heart even to react. Fudge, that corpulent fool of a Minister, peered across the bar with a look he probably assumed was predatory. It was much closer to that of a scavenger.

"Well. What have you to say for yourself, Malfoy?"

"Nothing."

Murmurs ran through the crowd and I imagine quite a few Quick-Quills were scrabbling. Fudge looked quite taken aback.

"Nothing?"

I considered many retorts, but none of them seemed worth the effort. They would only serve to sell more papers and I was quite done with such grandstanding. So I remained silent. The courtroom grew tense as even the murmuring quelled. Still I sat.

Fudge was in danger of falling, so far had he leant across the rail.

"Have you no defense for your actions, man!"

"To what end? I've already been tried and convicted, by a competent prosecutor I might add, for my actions in May. I have a life sentence in Azkaban. What could you hope to accomplish by repeating it?"

Fudge was certainly out of his depths, looking to his panel for support. I wished him the greatest of luck getting support out of them. One of us deserved it. Madam Bones must have requested an abstention, as she had for my first trial; she was conspicuously absent. Instead, immediately to Fudge's right was Miss Vance, evidently displaced as Chief for this trial so that Fudge might garner publicity. Not far down from her was Dumbledore, silent and smiling as if he were waiting for tea. He had evidently determined I wasn't worth the effort of claiming his rightful place as Chief either. I wondered if I had ever really expected anything else of them. Regardless, the council remained silent.

"This is WRONG!"

The courtroom witnesses gasped almost with a single breath as Harry Potter shouted from amid them. Hero of the Hour, anything he said was newsworthy.

Fudge desperately pounded the rail in front of him.

"Mr. Potter. I must ask you to remain silent during the proceedings and let justice be served."

"Oh. Like it was when you dragged me here because I had to fight off two dementors?" I could not see him behind me, but I could hear his anger and determined he must have risen from his seat.

"I think perhaps we might want to hear from Mr. Potter." Dumbledore's quiet voice cut Fudge as if it were a Diffindo. No wonder the old graphorn had remained silent. Potter was his mouthpiece. He always did prefer puppeteering to personal action.

"Why, yes of course. Mr. Potter, do enlighten us on the situation." Fudge sat gingerly upon his chair.

"This whole trial is a sham. Lucius Malfoy was taken out of Azkaban by the Order of the Phoenix to destroy Voldemort. He never escaped. He was never even free. He always knew he was going right back to Azkaban if he didn't die..."

His voice faltered and failed and I could feel green eyes on my back. He was a rather smart boy after all.

"Is this true?" Fudge accused me.

I shrugged. "I had no idea anyone could actually survive the Morsmordre."

The courtroom erupted again, and I let myself feel the current of it. Potter might just save me from that awful rock. Fudge raised a hand to quiet the room.

"I see. But that still doesn't change the original sentence."

"Cornelius? I think I have some questions for Mr. Potter." Miss Vance stood. She was deliberately stunning for the photographers, wearing emerald garb beneath plum Wizengamot robes. Her face implacable, she turned her attention across the room.

"Mr. Potter. You said that Mr. Malfoy aided the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"But there were no accounts of him on the Salisbury plain during the battle."

"No, ma'am. He wasn't allowed to leave Order headquarters."

"Allowed?"

"Yes, ma'am. He tried to go, but one of the Order stopped him."

"So he really had no part in it at all, then?" she smiled coldly. I remained still, not even daring to breathe. She was leading Fudge to a slaughter.

"No! That's not true. He-"

"He what, Mr. Potter?"

"He transferred all his magic to me so I could defeat Voldemort."

The earlier gasp had been nothing compared to the reaction now. But then the room fell silent, waiting desperately for what might come next.

"Dumbledore!" Fudge's voice was near hysteria. "Is this true?"

"I can't say anything for certain, Minister since I was at Salisbury. There was quite a battle there that night, you know. And so few of us there to fight it. But I do tend to believe what Mr. Potter says is true. He did seem to have powers quite beyond what anyone could believe."

"You!" he snarled down at me. "You expect me to believe you would give up your magic? And to a half-blood BOY!"

I waited for the fervor over his slip to settle before giving my answer.

"I am no longer important to this game, Fudge, and the board must be cleared for the generation to come. And as far as the last, I have come to believe the most salient point about blood is that it should remain internal."

The silence was only broken by the scratching of quills. I was glad for the furious skittering, for it gave me the only proof that time was still transpiring.

"No further questions."

Fudge sat down, his shoulders bent. No doubt already imagining tomorrow's headline of MINISTER CALLS WIZARDING SAVIOR HALF-BLOOD! I had the small satisfaction of knowing that his administration was finished. Fitting, since I had pretty much installed it. The witches and wizards of the Wizengamot spoke among themselves for what seemed to be an inordinate amount of time. I waited patiently, knowing that any delay could only be in my favor. A shortened sentence would allow me hope, which I desperately needed. With Voldemort's forces dismantled, there was little doubt the dementors were already back patrolling Azkaban. Despite the weight of my robes, I already felt chill.

Two guards approached me as the chains fell from the chair. Fudge took the materialized scroll, scanned it, and then thrust it at Vance. She stood.

"Mr. Malfoy, please rise and face the Wizengamot."

I did so. There was little point in being obstinate now.

"Yours is the most convoluted case tried by the Wizengamot in many centuries," she announced dramatically. "Nevertheless, we are ready to pass sentence. You have been tried once and found guilty without merit for your participation in the Battle of Ministries. You have been removed from your assigned sentence at Azkaban, willingly or otherwise, under circumstances we do not pretend to know. Yet, you have also aided in the downfall of the Darkest wizard to come to power, and both your wife and your estate were sacrificed in the process." She paused, letting the scroll curl around her hand slightly. "You are a very capricious wizard, Mr. Malfoy, but evidently not an incorrigible one. In the interest of the new age and the end to a reign of terror, we are prepared to commute your sentence of imprisonment in Azkaban to that of Ministry custody."

It took all my effort to breathe.

"You will be assigned as a ward under strict recognizance until such time as the Ministry is satisfied with your behavior. At such time, your case will be reviewed and if we find no further grievances with your actions, we are prepared welcome you back into society. Let no one say the Ministry is blind to those who come to aid the side of light in dark times."

"I thank the court for their extreme generosity." I bowed my head, quickly assessing the possible consequences of this ruling. But the sheer volume of them overwhelmed me. I had my life back and perhaps one day might even have my freedom. I would be able to see my son.

"Have you anything further to say?"

"I must ask the Wizengamot what is to become of my son."

"Have you no contract for his guardianship?" she asked pointedly, before waving a hand dismissively for the crowd. "We will assign your custody with your son in mind. By the power of these Isles, this Wizengamot is adjourned."

I turned to face the assemblage behind me. I supposed that I owed them that. Without witnesses to this hearing, I would have been led from the room in chains. My son's hair stood him out directly, and next to his a thicket of brown. They weren't an awful match, I decided, and certainly any children would at least be intelligent. I sighed. If I was an honest wizard, it wouldn't have been the first time I regretted she was not a pureblood. Still, she was no longer a threat, either.

"Mr. Malfoy? If you would care to follow me?" Weasley gave a curt nod for the press.

I started to follow when it occurred to me that I had rights once more.

"May I ask where you are taking me?"

"Miss Vance would like do discuss the details of your placement in her office. Fewer distractions."

"Weasley, you're in Muggle Artifacts. Why are you acting as my bailiff?"

"Because I asked to. The Order does not forget its debts, Malfoy." He led me to a dark paneled office I had passed many times before. "Please wait in the office. I'm sure she will be along presently."

I wandered in, trying to decide how to question Weasley about his involvement with the verdict but found to my surprise he had left me alone in the room. So I contented myself with perusing the office artifacts instead, finally attracted to a small picture on the corner of her desk that was obviously old and slightly worn. Waving at the camera was one of the Prewett brothers, as if it had ever been possible to tell them apart. I was marveling that someone had managed a picture of just one of them alone when it occurred to me why Miss Vance remained unmarried at her age.

"I really must put a proper frame on that someday." She absently waved her wand, sealing us with an Imperturbable. The motion looked oft practiced.

"My apologies, Miss Vance." I replaced the photo. "I have quite forgotten which brother was your intended."

"The other one," she said, smiling. "That's Fabian. I was betrothed to Gideon. But Molly found that picture a few years back. It's our little joke really. I keep it on my desk so people can pick it up and wax eloquent on how nice Gideon looked."

"An interesting way to honor them."

"They would have enjoyed it, I think. And it is a good reminder that much of what is said in this office is farcical."

"That does not give me much optimism for these proceedings."

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. You have been inordinately free with your thoughts of late. I had hoped the same might be said of my dealings with you."

"Yes, certainly so. You have been so direct in your opinion of me that I must admit I am quite astonished to be here instead of in middle of the North Sea."

"As are many in the community, I'm sure. But we can't forever look backward."

"So instead I am to be a show dog for the Ministry."

"And such a fine breed for it, too. Pity about the temperament." Her voice lowered. "It would have been a shame to destroy you."

I left off my attempts to goad her.

"I understand from your intimation that I am to be placed under the supervision of Weasley?"

"That's certainly an option, yes. It might solve quite a few untidy ends."

I nodded. As expected, she had extrapolated my statement of will to an unpalatable length.

"However, there are several willing officers. Potter's account of you has raised quite some interest around the building." She produced a small sealed scroll, which she passed to me.

"Have you any idea which of these people you might choose for me?"

"No. I actually thought I might let you choose. I see no reason why I should have to make this decision. You seem to be making decent enough choices of late."

I hastily broke the seal and scanned the list. She was right. There were several names, many of them mid-level employees who would no doubt benefit from the publicity. But near the top of the list was Weasley's name. Near the bottom was her own. I glanced up to see if she was making a joke. "Miss Vance, I'm afraid I don't understand your position in this."

"Then you aren't thinking. I was led to believe that thinking was one of your strengths." She seemed more amused than irritated, steepling her fingers in front of her face as she perched in her chair; every bit the benign authority. And therein lay the answer.

She wanted to assume control of the Ministry. In that moment, I knew she had organized the Wizengamot today, not Dumbledore, not Weasley. She must have been arranging Fudge's debacle even as she picked her robes.

"There's never been a half-blood Minister of Magic, Miss Vance. The population would never accept it."

"Really Mr. Malfoy, I expected better mathematical ability from one so well educated. By my calculations, I could hardly be more than one sixteenth Muggle." She smiled. "After such an awful period in our history, we need a progressive leader to help us mend. Perhaps it would be best to have someone in power with a tie to both worlds."

I felt as if I had overbalanced. Grasping for something to say, I admonished her.

"Ambition is a most dangerous thing."

"An interesting observation, considering the source. But I disagree. Untempered ambition is dangerous. Properly controlled, ambition is the driving force of politics."

"Yes."

"You agree to something without qualifying it? I'm shocked."

"Yes, I agree with you. Yes, I will help you. Yes, I would certainly prefer your custody to Weasley's." The Vances were an old family if not quite pure, with an estate and lifestyle to match. Moreover, I was enticed by even the smallest chance to participate in society.

"Even given my blood status?" Her words were harsh but her face was not and I considered that she might be toying with me. But then her expression grew solemn. "Don't agree too quickly. I don't think I could have you living under my roof without knowing certain facts."

"You planned Emain Cal."

It seemed her turn to be surprised. "How long have you known?"

"Just when I saw the picture. I should have concluded it before, however I've been a bit preoccupied of late." I was actually a bit relieved as I had suspected Molly Weasley, but I was loath to reveal my mistake. "Was there anything else-"

"Will you attempt to avenge your father?"

"I already have."

"Mr. Malfoy..."

"Miss Vance!" I had reached my limit. "I will tell you now quite plainly that I intend no harm to you for my father's death or for any other action we have taken toward each other in the last two decades in any matter. I am done. Why have you not comprehended this? After all, I was the one who forced the endgame by deliberately placing myself in the Order's possession. Me, Miss Vance! I conceded. I finished this!" I could feel my blood rise and knew that I could only be harming myself with this outburst even as I bent across the desk toward her.

She stood, appraising me with a rather queer glint and I knew I had gone too far.

I tore a hand through my locks trying to regain my composure before I completely destroyed what little regard I had garnered. "My father lies in a crypt beneath a house that no longer stands. His assassins have been murdered, and their murderers slain in turn. If I am not the wizard to stop forging links in this chain, it would surely one day shackle my own son."

She had come around the desk and now stood uncomfortably close to me. "That's quite eloquent, Mr. Malfoy. Might I persuade you to let me purloin a bit of the phrasing for myself?"

"I would be happy to help you write the speech. It would give me something to do while I impose on your hospitality." I bowed, ending the matter in my own mind even as I stepped clear of her influence. Quickly I thrashed about for a technicality that might prove me still objective. "I do not understand though, how you intend to keep reporters from intimation."

"I'm afraid I don't follow you. I intend to do no such thing."

"Surely a scandal might hurt your bid for office."

"Indeed? Our cloistered little world can be so archaic, don't you think? I think it would be wonderful to have you as an escort to all those tedious functions. Your presence could only enliven the conversation."

I had no doubt of this. "But what of the propriety?"

"Propriety? Of a ward and an official? Well, the assignment could fall to anyone, and I am always willing to do my part for the Ministry. I did briefly consider setting up a sham lottery but I always find such tactics detestable." She smiled wickedly before continuing. "Or perhaps you mean the propriety of a widower and a spinster?"

I was too flattered by the insinuation to respond. She had considered subterfuge in order to obtain me, a wholly unexpected affirmation of my worth. It left me a bit stunned when I reexamined the situation. Then there was the sheer deviousness of the arrangement. Should we seem in complicity then it would just be shunted off as the natural course of events instead of political intrigue. I could almost hear the clucking tongues. No one would believe the impeccable Emmeline Vance capable of scheming solely for the sake of politics. Even I was somewhat unsure of the dynamics.

"Do not worry overmuch about our friends in the press, Mr. Malfoy. I have been a tactician for far too long to overlook such details."

I bowed again, shamelessly flattering her. "Then I leave it to your savoir faire, for it has always been most impressive. Why weren't you sorted as Slytherin in school?"

"I chose to be placed in Ravenclaw. It seemed the better option to further my ends. Why weren't you sorted as Ravenclaw?" She leaned casually against her desk.

"I chose to be placed in Slytherin." I replied, remembering my conversation with the hat. "Did you know that no one ever asked me what my alternative had been?"

"I'm not surprised. Everyone always thinks they were the only one who had to make a choice. It always seems so immediate from the periphery. At any rate, it was not hard to guess yours. The two of us have always been defined by our differences, have we not?"

I smirked a bit at that. "We really are opposing rooks."

"Were. But a rook is of no more value than a pawn once the match is finished."

Unless there was another game. Then the double-rook would be a most formidable combination. "How long have you been planning this?"

She smiled innocently. "From the second I realized you could be redeemed."

"Don't be naïve. Whoe'er betrays, for ever is consumed."

^"Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered." She was still smiling as she retrieved the rowan wand and handed it to me. "You must know that I have also studied the classics. Shall we have a contest?"

And so it went. The rest of the story you have undoubtedly already heard in various permutations. I was shipped off to Vancemor, not an entirely shabby affair from which to finish my internment. My son stayed with me until Hogwarts claimed him for his last year. I bade him to owl me often as I would have so little else to occupy my time and he dutifully agreed. In truth, I was anxious as to how he would fare given the new realities of his house.

The children of Slytherin were in shambles, many of them orphaned and their Head of House off to parts unknown now that he considered his own debts repaid. Another Slytherin, Professor Vector, had stepped in to lead them, and while she was not the most nurturing figure she was certainly a superlative matriarch. Being an Arithmancy master gave her an indispensable edge to provide what the children needed before they could even ask. This was imperative, as so many of them were programmed never to ask at all. Her first action concerning my son had been to conjure an enormous window in the room he shared. For some abstruse reason she had chosen to bewitch it with a scene of Torquay which not only elegantly circumvented my son's new phobia but also seemed to have been a social boon to the other boys in the room. Evidently the view was quite popular with the Slytherin girls. The phrase 'gone to Torquay' had slipped into a few of Draco's owls.

Additionally, Dumbledore had managed to acquire the services of Devlin Whitehorn to teach for the year, no doubt a personal favor called in on behalf of the students. Whatever the reason, the results were dramatic. I doubt there was ever a time when the school's Potion marks universally raised so high- at least among the Quidditch fans. Inspired by Whitehorn's real-world application of potions, many of the Slytherins traded one dungeon for another in their independent studies on old training brooms. Dumbledore's manipulation was obvious, but I had to respect the old wizard for the tactic as it kept many of the children too occupied to brood.

Draco spent his time in testing rather than experimentation. He almost never spent time below ground, a preference mostly concealed by his handfast to a girl in Griffindor Tower. Much to my delight, he also managed to keep his rightful standing in his house. He staked his power early, defying anyone to challenge his chosen mate. No one dared. In fact, it seemed his announcement opened the floodgates to fraternization with the other houses, since there was no longer anything to lose. There were several inter-house romances blazing before Samhain, including the rather impressive coup of Tracey Davis who had set her sights on Montrose Magpie prospect and savior of the known world Harry Potter. Draco, for his part, took Potter's newest achievement with magnanimity. I suppose, given his summer, he simply hadn't cared. The two still bristled a bit at each other, but it was just a show of plumage. Oddly enough, he had warmed up to Ron Weasley while in the house on Grimmauld; perhaps because they both knew the true contest had already been decided by Hermione. Draco would often complain that he was forced to go halfway across the castle just for a decent chess match, but I was well aware he was often in the tower already.

But even as I kept up with the news from Hogwarts, politics and society took precedence. Emmeline's rise through the Ministry was impressively swift and she rode the tide right into the Minister's office even as it washed Fudge out. I was a bit disappointed by this as I had hoped for more political intrigue, but one must not look askance at a victory just because it was simple. Further, while it may have irked me she had been so completely right about the newfound support for a liberal Minister, I knew affairs were in my best interest. Now that a mixed bloodline held office, it would only be a matter of time before a full Muggle-born would also be in political contention. This was the crux of the issue, for it had already occurred to me that my son's wife actually held the lion's share of ambition.

For my part, I haunted the Vance grounds endeavoring to be the ideal companion to my warden. I began to divert myself with an advanced study of ancient white lore, which eventually resulted in a tome of such length I believe it even impressed my daughter-in-law. It would have been tragic to lose these arts given their role in the downfall of our Darkest wizard. I also felt beholden to them for the life of my son. Being that a proper wizard honors his debts, I made a concerted effort to catalogue as many rites as possible that they would not vanish into our past. This was met with a great deal of initial skepticism but I believe my choice of research material might have had more to do with my acceptance back into society than even my pardon the next spring. Certainly I felt myself a better wizard for the attempt.

I remained on at Vancemor after my discharge, having found comfort in the company there. I suppose that perhaps I had reached a point in my life when I no longer relished solitude and Emmeline seemed no more inclined to roust me from the house than I was to leave. So I simply stayed and life continued on as it had before. Since I had acted as the Minister's consort prior even to her assumption of power, there was nothing terribly fascinating about my continuing to do so now that I was no longer officially obliged. The community had largely lost interest in us at any rate. I suppose the aspersions were just too stale. What's more they were considered wholly unreliable, due in large part to an impressively detailed fabrication published by The Quibbler. The article had been so lascivious that I had colored a few times in the reading of it, horrified that Miss Vance must have also seen those passages. But I must admit I secreted a copy of the issue in my quarters, for while it was shockingly graphic, the piece had been incredibly well written. It also contained a few paragraphs I rather enjoyed. We never once spoke of the matter, even though I suspect the house-elves knew and laughed. This should have infuriated me, I know, but overall I found the situation more amusing than anything and I almost wished I could share the humor of it with Emmeline.

The following summer, amidst celebration of Draco's birthday, my son and his wife renewed their handfast. It was a beautiful ceremony, if perhaps a bit overzealous. But given the shadows that blanketed the first rite no one could fault them for their enthusiasm. I had the pleasure of witnessing the event as a free wizard and privately I thought I might burst with pride for my family. I could already see that they would renew the binding again the next summer to make the proper numerological count of three. Then the two would make it final, recapturing lost cachet for the Malfoy name. They would become one of the strongest families of the new generation and their children would be amazing. No one needed a diviner to see that.

I considered this most fortunate of all, for I was quite through with prophecies.

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"Whoe'er betrays, for ever is consumed."

Dante's Devine Comedy (Inferno), Canto 32

(Longfellow Ed.)

^"Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered."

Psalm 32:1