Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

The Expulsion Hearing

"Show me Draco," Harry hissed in Parseltongue, his wand thrust out in demand, his whole body thrumming with tension. "Show me Draco, now!"

He could feel the magic flowing through him, could feel the zing of something vaguely akin to electricity pulsating in his wand hand, could feel his dark powers flowing through him and out.

But they went precisely nowhere, at least as far as Harry could tell. Draco's picture frame was still showing a view of the Whomping Willow in the pale dying twilight, just the same as when Harry had entered the room.

The frame hadn't appeared to hear him at all.

Frowning, Harry stepped back and thought over the times he'd forced the frame to do his bidding. Show me Mrs Parkinson had worked well enough, and the time before that, it had been the words Show me Draco that had done the trick, once he'd figured out that he had to use wanded magic. So why wasn't it working again?

What did those times have in common that this one didn't?

The grounds, Harry abruptly realised. The sodding frame was supposed to show Draco the grounds so he wouldn't feel too cooped up down here. The funeral had been outside on the lawn . . . Draco had been hexed and then abandoned out of doors . . .

And the Board of Governors meeting, wherever it was, certainly wouldn't take place outside!

Harry could have groaned, and that was before the rest of it came to him. Hadn't Snape said that that castle walls themselves were warded against this sort of thing? There were protections in place so that spying spells didn't really function . . . Snape had been astonished by the Marauder's Map precisely because Sirius and James and Remus had somehow found a way to circumvent those powerful safeguards . . .

All right, Harry reasoned. Obviously, there was a way around Hogwarts' wards, and James . . . his father . . . had known what it was. Too bad he didn't have the map; maybe he could use it to somehow cajole the frame into looking inside the castle instead of out. Even if he went and broke into Snape's office, though, Harry doubted he would find the map. His guess was that the headmaster still had it as part of his ongoing investigation into who had really killed Pansy Parkinson.

So that was that, then.

Except, it wasn't, because in the next instant Harry realised that he did have something he could use.

The mirror . . . the mirror that Sirius had given him. He still remembered the note that had come with it, word for word. This is a two-way mirror, I've got the other one of the pair. If you need to speak to me, just say my name into it; you'll appear in my mirror and I'll be able to talk in yours. James and I used to use them when we were in separate detentions.

And detentions usually took place inside the castle, didn't they? Not always, but usually . . . which meant that the mirror, like the map, had some way to get around the fact that Hogwarts' walls were spelled to repel inquisitive magic.

Excitement thrummed through Harry as he lifted the lid of his trunk. Thank goodness Snape had insisted he leave some things behind! Harry was more grateful than ever for that. He fished through his things, his hand occasionally slipping into wizardspace. Where was the mirror? He was sure he hadn't brought it up to the Tower.

Finally he spotted the Gryffindor scarf he'd wrapped it in on Sunday when he'd been deciding what to leave behind. Good, so there was still a chance---

His excitement, though, died quickly as he unwrapped the small, square mirror and saw his face jaggedly reflected in the shards that now filled the frame. Sirius, he thought, icy tentacles wrapping around his heart and squeezing hard. Oh God. Sirius.

He'd avoided looking in the mirror for months and months, ever since that awful day when he'd realised it couldn't help him reach a man beyond the Veil, because he'd known it would be like this. He'd known that pain would wash across him until he couldn't breathe. All at once he had more sympathy for Draco. Not that he'd been unsympathetic before, but now, with his own grief as fresh and raw as though Sirius had died but yesterday, Harry had a better sense of just how Draco must be feeling about Pansy's death . . . right down to the conviction that what had happened to her was all his fault.

Gritting his teeth hard, Harry dragged his gaze away from the broken mirror. It came to him that eyes were aching, but it was nothing like the pain he'd felt on Samhain. This pain was almost worse; it went all the way to the bottom of his soul. Heaving in a deep breath, one that seemed to sear his lungs, Harry wiped at his eyes, a little surprised to find glasses in the way. He hadn't got used to wearing them again, obviously.

It was an effort, but after a moment, he managed to get himself under control.

It was thoughts of Draco and Sirius that did it, really. Blacks, both of them, but neither one black at heart. If Sirius had lived, he'd be proud of Draco by now; Harry just knew it.

But if Sirius had lived, a little voice whispered in his mind, Severus wouldn't be your father, so Draco wouldn't be your brother. Sirius would have been with you at Grimmauld Place after the operation, and Remus might not have gone out for ice cream. You might never have been captured by Lucius Malfoy at all, and without that spectacle of seeing you stand strong while his father crawled like a worm, Draco would probably still be siding with Voldemort. Severus wouldn't be his father either . . .

It came to Harry then that thoughts like that weren't helpful. He could spin the story all the way back to the beginning, too, and get angry that Sirius had suggested Pettigrew be the Secret Keeper, but what good would that do?

What was, was.

Sirius couldn't be here to be proud of Draco, but Harry was here, and he was proud, and if the mirror could help him see how Draco was holding up in that hearing, then he wasn't going to let grief get in the way.

Of course, he didn't have the faintest clue if this would work; all he knew was that it was worth a try.

Harry gingerly picked out a shard of mirror, holding it so it wouldn't cut him. He didn't even want to think about what a drop of blood mixed in might do to the untested wanded magic he was about to perform. He also didn't want to think about what his father would say if he found out about a stunt like this. Combining magical artefacts was a tricky business, and when you added in dark powers as well . . . shivering, Harry couldn't help but think twice about the course he'd set. Did he really want to do this?

Yes, he did.

His wand angled as before, Harry pressed the shard of mirror flat into the wall in the middle of the picture frame, right onto the image of the Whomping Willow's stout trunk. And then he tried again, his voice a low hiss of demand as he stared at his ring.

"Show. Me. Draco."

The wall before him dissolved, a familiar sight by then, but this time, the scene before him was of a hallway, Draco and Snape walking along. Strangely, Harry's view was from behind. The scene shifted to follow them as they walked on, Snape's step brisk while Draco's was rather laconic. Probably an effect of the calming draught.

They stopped outside a doorway, Snape laying a hand on Draco's shoulder when the boy made a move as though to throw the double doors open. From a deep pocket in his formal robes, the Potions Master drew forth a wand and placed it in the boy's hand. Draco nodded, understanding written clearly across his face. He needed his old wand with him because if the Governors voted against him, he would have to surrender it.

Harry felt sick at heart just imagining that.

"Remember, Draco. Confidence, not arrogance," Snape said, his voice determined as he settled a hand atop Draco's thin shoulder.

Harry stumbled back in shock, his thoughts going into a whirl. The frame is a viewing plane only . . . It will never allow you to hear . . .

But apparently it would, when it was magically mixed with Sirius' mirror.

Harry supposed that made some sort of sense. Well, considering it was magic. The mirror, as Sirius had explained it, had been able to transmit sound, so now the enchanted picture frame could do the same. Harry nodded, coming to terms with it.

But then another thought struck him.

The mirror had been able to both send and receive sound.

Otherwise, James and Sirius couldn't have done much talking while they were in separate detentions. So probably, if Harry made too much noise, Draco and the others would be able to hear him.

Uh-oh . . . Snape would know that Harry had used wanded magic on the picture frame. Again.

But it was done now, for good or for ill, so stepping away on tiptoe, Harry sat down on Draco's bed, his breathing low and slow as he settled in to watch the hearing unfold.

Draco and Snape were inside the boardroom by then. The Slytherin boy was sitting on a round, stone stool in the middle of the room, like a prisoner facing judgment. At least there weren't any chains or straps threatening to bind him, but the image still reminded Harry of his own trial before the Wizengamot.

Shuddering, Harry raised his eyes to the rest of the scene. He wanted to see the Board, to see the men and women who held Draco's fate in their hands.

To his utter shock, the scene before him swung around to show the Governors, just like that, changing aspect until he was looking at the room from the side. He could see Draco and the Governors both. But why should that be, when he had asked only to see Draco?

The picture frame had been ensorcelled to show whatever was desired, Harry abruptly realised. All you had to do was look at it and think of what you wanted. When Harry had used it before, all he'd wanted was to see Draco. And the next time, the funeral. But now his desires were changing as he watched, and the frame--the magical wall, rather--was changing with them.

Coming to terms with that, Harry took a good look at the Hogwarts' Board of Governors, studying their faces one by one as he swept his gaze along the curved table where they sat. Perhaps fifteen of them in all, witches and wizards both, though Harry didn't know if all of them were Governors, strictly speaking. Some might be Ministry employees, he supposed. One of them had what looked to be a Quick-Quotes Quill out, after all.

Lucius Malfoy sat among his colleagues, directly opposite Draco. Harry hadn't noticed him straight away; maybe he'd been trying not to . . . for good reason. The moment Harry's eyes settled on that sweep of long, silver-blonde hair, something inside him seemed to snap apart. A roiling burn of anger filled him, starting somewhere deep in his core and coursing through his body until it reached his fingertips. A scorching heat began to build in his hands, the same heat he'd felt in Devon when he'd blasted a robe and mask to ashes, the same heat he'd felt in Grimmauld Place when Remus had stepped from the Floo looking every bit the part of Lucius Malfoy.

Rage, fury . . . only this time, he didn't have his father to hold him back.

Lucius Malfoy sat smiling, chatting up a brown-haired witch smoking a pipe, just as if he hadn't a care in the world. As if he wasn't a man who would issue death warrants against his only son. As if he'd never dream of sitting atop a young man's chest so he could stab out his eyes with red-hot needles.

Harry rose to his feet as though pulled upward by invisible strings, his hands moving to reach forwards, his fingers widely splayed. Just like in Devon, he felt the fire surging through him, fire that could be quenched by one thing only.

Lucius Malfoy's death.

Lucius. Malfoy's. Death--

He saw smoke begin to curl from his fingertips, then a flash of fire streaming out like lightning, but in the instant before it struck the wavering image of the unsuspecting Death Eater, Harry heard something.

It wasn't his father, lecturing him on the dangers of vengeance.

It was himself, swearing to Draco that he'd do this very thing. And now he was about to do it, and right in front of Draco, and Harry suddenly saw himself as someone he didn't want to be. A murderer.

Of course he was fated to be one anyway. Either that or a murder victim, but his father had been right. Self-defence was something quite apart from becoming judge, jury, and executioner all rolled into one.

With a muttered oath, Harry jerked his hands towards the ceiling just as the jet of fire collided against stone. All Hogwarts seemed to shift on its foundations, a blast wave reverberating through granite that had stood for centuries.

"What was that?" yelped a voice from the wall. Fudge, Harry thought, though he couldn't be sure.

"Ancient magic, nothing more," said Dumbledore in a soothing voice as his hands smoothed down his beard. "I suspect the castle is remembering how the Governors convened in this very room to consider the expulsion of Rubeus Hagrid. Terrible miscarriage of justice, that. Just terrible. A travesty . . ."

Harry didn't know why the headmaster hadn't taken the shock wave more seriously, unless it was because the man's own vast wellspring of magic knew the cause. Regardless, his tones calmed Harry, too. He sat down once more on Draco's bed, flinching a little as it creaked, and told himself that Dumbledore had done well to slip in that Hagrid reference. Everybody knew he'd been unfairly expelled; it had been common knowledge since the end of Harry's second year.

Dumbledore might just as well have said, Mind you proceed with this matter responsibly . . .

Realising he'd been holding his breath, Harry tried to let the headmaster's words sink all the way through him. Dumbledore was more than wise, he was wily. He knew that Draco was innocent, and he knew that Draco would be a great asset to Harry and the Order. And he knew that Snape would resign if Draco had to leave Hogwarts.

Albus Dumbledore was not going to let Draco get expelled. Harry knew it, he just knew it. Everything would be all right. For once, Lucius Malfoy's money and influence would fail him. He wouldn't get his way, not in this.

Calmer, Harry glanced up again at the shimmering wall. The sight of Lucius Malfoy still made him feel like he was coiling up inside, but he had his anger in check now. He wouldn't let the wild magic loose again. Glancing away from Malfoy, Harry began to study the other witches and wizards seated at that long table. Nobody he recognised, which wasn't too surprising. He wondered again how many of the fifteen were actually Governors . . . Governesses? That didn't sound right.

Fudge was up there too, standing behind a short podium set atop the far end of the curved table. He still looked a bit alarmed by the way the room had shaken under the force of Harry's wild magic.

Good, Harry thought. Keep him off-balance. Maybe he won't be quite the nasty little toady he usually is.

Dumbledore and Snape were sitting at tables on either side of Draco, facing the Board. Each of them had a large sheaf of parchment. So did members of the Board, Harry noticed.

Draco, in contrast, held nothing whatsoever. He sat composed, his hands loosely clasped in his lap as he stared straight ahead yet avoided Lucius' gaze.

For his part, Lucius had resumed chatting amiably with the witches to his left and right. Harry couldn't quite hear him; it was just a low murmur of sound, but he saw at once where Draco had got those perfect manners of his. You'd never have guessed the building had rocked on its foundations just moments before.

A gavel banging a wooden plaque brought the room to silence.

"Let the record reflect that a transcription spell is recording these proceedings," Fudge began in a ponderous, self-important tone. It sounded to Harry almost as though the man might have applied just a touch of Sonorus to his voice. Overcompensating for the shock that blast wave just gave him, Harry thought. Hmm, maybe he had learned something useful from that book about trauma.

"The date is Friday, the twenty-first of March, 1997," Fudge formally continued. "The Hogwarts Board of Governors has convened in plenary session to determine whether one Draco Alain Gervais Luthien Malfoy, accused herein of serious transgressions deserving of expulsion, shall be allowed to continue in attendance. Let the record reflect that upon a previous offence of a grave nature, the aforementioned student was, for the safety of the student body as a whole, removed from contact with all other pupils. He continues in that status until this very day--"

"Ehem." Dumbledore cleared his throat as he riffled through the stack of parchment in front of him. "I have a correction to offer, Minister Fudge. Mr Malfoy, with the full cooperation of the Ministry, has indeed enjoyed ample contact with other students over the past several months. Notably, one Harry Potter with whom he has been sharing a bedroom until this very week, whom I might point out has come to no harm whatsoever--"

Thinking of his black eye, Harry was impressed by the flat-out lie. But then again, he'd known for a while that Albus Dumbledore could colour the truth any hue he liked.

"I have a correction to offer, Headmaster Dumbledore," interrupted Fudge in an oily tone. "Mr Malfoy may have acquired a roommate, but this was not done with the cooperation of the Ministry; it was entirely within the purview of Wizard Family Services--"

"A part of the Ministry."

"An adjunct services office, and a damned meddlesome one at that!"

Dumbledore lifted his shoulders in a shrug. From Harry's vantage point, it seemed that the headmaster's sombre blue eyes assessed each and every one of the Governors before he spoke again. "I submit for your consideration that the exact nature of the relationship between Family Services and the Ministry proper is not the point, Minister. Suffice it to say that the Ministry had full knowledge that Messieurs Malfoy and Potter were confined together, as it were. The Ministry never raised any objection, which to my mind implies tacit consent if not cooperation. I should also like to point out that on many occasions, students have visited Mr Potter in his home and thus have had contact with Mr Malfoy. There has been not a single disciplinary incident on account of this, which demonstrates that Mr Malfoy is in fact not a danger to other students."

Wow, good defence, Harry thought, even more impressed.

"His treatment of Miss Pansy Parkinson this past November proves him to be a rather extreme hazard," retorted an elderly Board member who immediately afterwards glanced at Lucius as though for approval.

Lucius, though, remained icily aloof, neither looking at Draco nor returning his colleague's glance.

"The Board has already taken action regarding that incident," Dumbledore murmured, riffling pages again. "If you will consult page 278 of the Hogwarts Charter, paragraph C, subparagraph 2, you will note that the Board cannot at this late date go back and re-adjudicate another matter."

"Then let us adjudicate this matter," said Fudge in a hard tone, his beady eyes glaring at Draco.

"Very well," Dumbledore mildly agreed. "I would like to submit into evidence the official conclusions of Magical Law Enforcement, which indeed is a department of the Ministry. You will note that Mr Malfoy has been cleared of any and all involvement with the events of one week past. I would further like to call the Governors' attention to the Veritaserum testimony of both Mr Malfoy and Mr Harry Potter."

"Mr Malfoy is here in person," said an old witch wearing robes trimmed with ruffle after ruffle of yellowing lace. "I would think we'd hear from all the witnesses in person, as well. Transcribed testimony is all well and good but I'd like to hear from the Boy Who Lived myself, if he's going to vouch for . . ." She grimaced. "This particular young man."

"Mr Potter did not feel up to speaking to the Board personally, madam."

Mr Potter was not even consulted, Harry thought, his lips turning down at the implication that he was too weak to handle seeing Lucius Malfoy. He knew the plan was to throw the Death Eaters off guard with stories like that, of course, but he still didn't like it.

The old witch nodded, her gaze flicking to Lucius Malfoy. Harry didn't know if that meant she knew that Lucius had been personally involved in the events reported about Samhain, or she just knew that there was a long history of enmity at play.

"Professor Snape has a few words to say in his capacity as Head of Slytherin House," Dumbledore said next.

Snape rose to his feet, his robes billowing around his legs as he took one dramatic step away from his table and prepared to address the Board. "Mr Malfoy, far from posing a threat to other students, has been instrumental in helping Mr Potter recover from injuries he received earlier this year. He has proven himself an upstanding member of Slytherin and has laboured throughout this year to persuade his house mates that their best interests lie in supporting the Ministry in this war. I have reason to believe that several students with Death Eater parents may well avoid making a most unfortunate choice when the time comes, and if they do, it will be entirely on account of Mr Malfoy's tireless efforts."

Snape paused to let that sink in, then resumed, "As we have irrefutable proof that Mr Malfoy was in fact in no way involved in the tragic death of Miss Parkinson, there is no cause whatsoever to expel him. My opinion as his Head of House is that Mr Malfoy would benefit from his continued schooling here and that the student population at large would likewise benefit. As would the Ministry. Mr Malfoy is a talented wizard with an innate grasp of magic. He wishes to put his Hogwarts education to good use and become an Auror after sitting his N.E.W.T.s. Speaking as one who has been on the front lines of this war, I can tell you that there has never been a greater need for well-trained, gifted Aurors."

A wizard wearing a pointed hat tapped gnarled fingers on the table and peered over at Fudge. "Have you got nothing but accusations against the boy, Minister? Seems like it. Reminds me a bit of an incident took place here oh, 'bout fifty years ago."

Fudge looked flustered by that, but only until he glanced over at Lucius Malfoy. "Do not make your minds up yet, I beg you. These are mere preliminaries. We've yet to hear from the actual witnesses."

"So there were witnesses, Minister Fudge?" Dumbledore softly questioned. "Eyewitnesses to the death of the young lady, I presume you mean? That assertion would appear to contradict the Aurors' report."

"Witnesses, yes," Fudge said. Harry could hear him grinding his teeth, yet all the while, Lucius Malfoy sat with perfect posture, almost as though he were posing for a portrait. The same way Draco was sitting, actually. They might have been twins separated in time . . . except that Draco wasn't smirking. Lucius was, ever so slightly.

"Not eyewitnesses to the actual murder," Fudge was going on, "but to events shortly thereafter. It is not true that Draco Malfoy was sequestered in Professor Snape's rooms all that day. He was out and about. He had both motive and opportunity to kill the young lady, his fellow prefect I might add, though of course his own prefect status has long since been revoked, as well it should have been!"

"I believe you mentioned witnesses," the wizard with the pointed hat prompted.

Fudge flushed at the mild rebuke. "The Ministry calls Erik Vanvelzeer and Belladonna Uwannawich!"

Harry didn't recognise the names, but he thought the students looked like seventh-years as the door creaked open and they entered. Belladonna was tall and emaciated with long black hair; she reminded Harry of those Muggle models who really need to eat. Erik was short and stocky, with beady blue eyes and a nasty expression.

The two of them came to a halt at one side of the long, curved table; Belladonna gave the Governors a polite little nod as she stood there with her hands clasped and her robes buttoned all the way up to her neck. Erik slouched.

"Please tell the Governors what you told the Aurors," Fudge bid. "This would be the first pair of Aurors on the scene, not the ones who subsequently completed the investigation."

Belladonna practically curtseyed, which Harry thought really odd, and when she spoke it was in a soft, almost lyrical voice. "Begging the Minister's pardon," she began, glancing at him before turning her full attention to the Board, "but I don't know as I really have much of use to contribute. I can't say that I know Draco pushed Pansy out of the Owlery. I can't say anything of the kind, as I simply wasn't there to see it."

"Yes, yes, but you did see something. Just tell the Governors that, Miss Uwannawich. And have no fear, you are not the one on trial here."

"Ehem!" Dumbledore broke in with a fierce glare.

"Rather, you are not the subject of this disciplinary hearing," Fudge said, revising his earlier wording . . . though not without curling a disdainful lip at the headmaster's point of protocol.

"I was going up the Owlery stairs to send off a letter," Belladonna began, her features strained as she gestured to the boy standing with her. "Erik came along as we were talking over the class we'd just left. This was in the late afternoon, one week ago today. The day of the . . . murder. And who should I meet coming out of the Owlery but Draco. He . . . he seemed in an awful rush, too. He all but careened down the stairs--"

He was unconscious and under an invisibility cloak, Harry thought. You couldn't have seen him at all. You're lying. You're in on it, somehow . . .

"Had a guilty look on his face!" Erik put in with a gleam of malice in his eyes. "Babbled out something nonsensical, too. Didn't think much of it just then, but looking back it seems like panic, pure and simple."

And you're in on it, too, aren't you . . .

"I . . . I can't say as I agree with that," Belladonna corrected, lacing her fingers together and then unlacing them. "That is, Draco did seem in a hurry. I can't say that it was born of panic, but he did pass us at almost a run. I remember feeling rather afraid that he would fall and take a nasty spill . . . And then, before Erik and I could even climb up to the top and go into the Owlery, we heard the most awful screaming start up from below. The . . . the body had been found. And that's all I know."

"Have you anything to add to that, Mr VanVelzeer?"

"Just that Malfoy had an awfully guilty look on his face," the seventh-year sneered.

"Why was this information not taken into account when the Aurors wrote their report?" asked a witch with red hair, the question clearly directed at the Minister of Magic, not the witnesses.

"Perhaps because Draco Malfoy's own cousin was one of the Aurors empowered to investigate the matter."

He said it with an air of triumph as he glared at Dumbledore, who stared impassively back.

Shite, Harry thought. That's the part that's going to unravel . . . Dumbledore had pulled all sorts of strings to get Order Aurors on site, but to Fudge it might just look like the headmaster had been trying to get Tonks specifically . . .

For all Harry knew, Fudge might actually think Draco guilty; this hearing might not only be about toadying up to the Malfoy millions. The thought didn't make him like Fudge any better, but it did make him worry more for Draco.

"The boy's own cousin! Why would the Ministry allow a conflict of interest like that to occur?" questioned the wizard in the pointed hat, his gaze even more pointed as it centred squarely on Fudge. "Doesn't Magical Law Enforcement have safeguards against this sort of thing? Well? Answer me!"

"We were dealing with the Dark Mark over Parliament Square," Fudge said, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead. It looked like he was realising he might be held to account for MLE procedures. "A few details may have slipped through the cracks--"

"Hmmph," said the wizard.

"Be that as it may . . ." Wiping his brow, Fudge resumed. "Be that as it may, the Ministry is now endeavouring to correct any errors that may have occurred, by assuming full oversight over the matter of the expulsion."

Several of the witches and wizards were nodding by then, a vague chorus of affirmatives echoing in the boardroom. Harry heard mutterings, too. "Boy's own cousin . . . Auror corps ought to be ashamed . . . Veritaserum isn't foolproof, you know . . ." And the one that was the final straw, at least for Harry: "Potter must be off his head to be cooking up an alibi for a boy who murdered another student. But you know, he's been off his head before--"

And all the while, Lucius Malfoy looked like the cat that had got the cream as he sat there, smarmy as can be, a devious little smile curling his lips.

"Have the Governors anything to ask these students?" When there was no reply to that, Fudge nodded at the pair. "Very well. Thank you for your time and patience. You are hereby dismissed."

An idea zinged into Harry's head. A bad idea, maybe. But it looked to him like Draco was about to get voted out of Hogwarts, and he'd do anything to prevent that. Snape was going to be furious, and Harry had to admit that his father would have a perfect right to be, but none of that mattered, not in that instant of realising that he didn't have to just sit and watch.

Harry leapt up and took three big steps across the room until he could touch the wizardspace, or whatever it was, making up the images. Several Governors were talking at once by then, and Fudge was banging his gavel, so there was probably enough noise to cover Harry's own words.

At least he hoped so.

Snape was going to be mad enough as it was.

Thinking so exclusively of Snape had changed the image on the wall, in any case. The Potion Master's head and back now occupied almost the entire expanse of stone. Interesting that the viewing plane wasn't showing the man's face, Harry thought, but then again, he didn't really want to see Snape's expression, did he? The enchanted wall was sensing that.

Stepping even closer, until he could actually see a wavering image of the potions lab behind the wall, Harry whispered into his father's ear. "Call Ron and Hermione to testify."

Snape jerked as he sat there, his hand actually upsetting the ink pot on his table. Then his whole back stiffened. It seemed to Harry he was leaning back a bit, his head tilted at an odd angle as though to catch anything else Harry might have to say. But by then, the room was beginning to quiet down.

"Call them to refute those two lying Slytherins," was all Harry dared to add. The minute he stopped speaking he wished he hadn't put it quite that way, but there was no opportunity now to rephrase things.

"We will next hear from the mother of the victim," Fudge began saying, "who has requested leave to speak."

Snape's back receded as the viewing plane appeared to back away from him and swing to the side once more so that Harry could see the entire room.

"A moment, Minister Fudge," Snape broke in, his deep drawling voice bringing the proceedings to a halt as he stood up. There was no ink on his table now, so Harry supposed he must have evanescoed the mess away, pot and all. "Please detain Mr Vanvelzeer and Miss Uwannawich. I have witnesses to summon as well, ones who will shed some light on the testimony just proffered."

Erik Vanvelzeer gave Snape a nasty glance at that. Belladonna didn't react as much, though she did stop walking, her hands twisting around and around as she tried to hold them clasped and failed.

"I summon Mr Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger," Snape announced.

Belladonna flinched then, her gaze panicked as it shot to Lucius Malfoy's.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, but then wrote something on a slip of parchment. Tapping it with his wand, he sent it wafting across the room to the Minister of Magic.

Clearly disgruntled, Fudge glared at the parchment as he muttered what Harry could only think must be a spell to summon the named students forth.

Draco's cool demeanour had held firm, but calming draught or no, Snape's demand to call the Gryffindors as witnesses proved to be his undoing. He had turned to Snape and was mouthing something. Harry couldn't catch it.

Fudge evidently could.

"Do you object to these witnesses, Mr Malfoy?" he asked, gavel in mid-air.

Don't, Draco, Harry thought, but the boardroom was silent as everyone awaited the boy's answer, so he didn't dare try to convince his brother to let Hermione and Ron testify.

"Of course I object to them," Draco said, lifting his chin as he sat there. "They're thoroughly objectionable."

"Do you object to them testifying?"

Draco took a moment to think that one over, his silver gaze assessing Snape's expression. He must not have known how to read it. Either that, or he didn't want to do what Snape was clearly telling him to do, for he asked, "May I confer with my Head of House?"

"One minute only."

Rising from his stool, Draco walked across the room to Snape and began to speak in a low voice. Even after moving close and straining his ears for all they were worth . . . even despite the fact that the wall had zeroed in on his family and no one else, Harry could barely make out their words.

" . . .Harry's eye, for Merlin's sake," Draco was whispering. "Those two know. And they don't like me."

He couldn't quite catch what Snape murmured in reply.

" . . .not about to trust my life to a pair of sodding Gryffindors . . ."

Harry leaned closer, just enough to hear, " . . .your brother is a sodding Gryffindor, Draco."

Hmmph. Well, maybe he deserved that in exchange for the lying Slytherins remark.

"Mr Malfoy?" Fudge interrupted the hushed conference. "I require an answer."

Sighing, Draco moved back to his stone stool and seated himself, his back ramrod straight, his robes falling in perfect lines to the floor. But his hands, now thrust deep into his pockets, were clenching. Harry couldn't see them, but he knew. "I do not object to them testifying."

"Very well. Slytherin House calls Miss Hermione Granger and Mr Ronald Weasley," Fudge announced.

Harry didn't know how his friends had got there so quickly, but when the boardroom doors opened on their own, both Ron and Hermione were standing outside. They looked a little frightened, but Harry supposed that made sense. Unlike the other student witnesses, they hadn't been expecting a summons.

"Come in, come in," Fudge said, waving impatiently. "You're here to testify. I believe Professor Snape has a few questions for you."

Snape gave a slight shake of his head. "I would like Miss Uwannawich to repeat her recollection of the events of Friday past. Mr Weasley and Miss Granger may tell the Board what they think of the testimony we've all heard."

Hermione was the first to react to the story that Belladonna told. "Well, that's nothing but a lie," she railed, stamping her foot. "We were going up to the Owlery too, that day. We saw you on the way up. Both of you. But we didn't see any sign at all of Draco Malfoy!"

"And it's not like we could have missed him, the way you tell it," Ron coldly put in. "Careening past us all? What a load of . . ." He glanced apologetically at the Board. "What I mean is, Malfoy wasn't there."

"Oh, but he was," Erik VanVelzeer said with a snarl in his voice. "And you're saying otherwise to help him out."

"Oh, sure," Ron drawled, clenching his fists as he turned to fully face the Governors. "If I was going to come here and lie to the lot of you, you can be dead sure I'd lie to get Draco Malfoy thrown out of school, not to keep him here. He's spent six years sneering, his rich nose in the air because some of us aren't rolling in Galleons. Not to mention that he constantly calls one of my best friends a Mudblood! But the testimony you got from these two," Ron contemptuously waved to one side. "It's just a case of Slytherins turning on their own, your Honours . . . uh, your Worships . . . uh . . ."

"I'm perfectly willing to take Veritaserum," Hermione said, looking the Governors in the eye, one by one. Even Lucius Malfoy. Harry had to admit he was pretty impressed by that. "My parents won't like it," she went on. "They're Muggles. And yes, Malfoy here has called me awful names on that account. But that's all beside the point. He wasn't on the Owlery staircase this past Friday. I know, because I was, right before the screaming started. It's not right to throw people out of school for things they haven't done, even not-so-nice people like Malfoy here." She turned her glance to Dumbledore. "Shall I owl my parents for permission to take truth serum, sir?"

"And you, Miss Uwannawich," Dumbledore asked. "Will you be needing an owl as well? For if there is a dispute over who was on the Owlery stairs, I certainly think everyone involved ought to testify on equal terms."

"Uh . . ." Belladonna's face went a ghastly white. She actually swayed on her feet. "I'm a bit allergic, sir."

"You've had truth serum administered to you previously, have you, young lady?"

Belladonna flicked a glance at the witch who had asked that. "Uh, no," she back-pedalled. "We studied the composition in potions class and I think I might be allergic, I meant."

"I think we've heard enough out of these witnesses," drawled a wizard from the far end of the table. He wasn't more specific than that, but Harry somehow doubted he'd meant Ron and Hermione.

"Any further questions?" asked Fudge, sounding a bit as though . . . Harry wasn't sure. It was like the man was holding something in reserve, something devastating . . .

"I've some," said a witch who hadn't spoken before, that Harry could recall. "I see you're wearing Gryffindor crests. Are the two of you acquainted with Harry Potter?"

Ron smiled then, for the first time since he'd entered the room. "Yeah, you could say that."

"We're his best friends," Hermione answered, nodding.

"So presumably you've been down to see him a time or two while he was living in his adoptive father's quarters?"

"Many more times than that, ma'am . . ."

"When you were visiting Mr Potter, did you ever feel threatened by Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Honestly, ma'am, no." She cast a sidelong glance at Draco, who was staring straight ahead, his entire posture stiff. "That's not to say I like him. He's got a purebloods-first mindset that's a threat all in itself, to people like me."

"Do you believe his attendance here poses a danger to any other student?"

Harry held his breath then, wondering what Hermione might decide to say about his black eye. Then again, both Ron and Hermione had promised not to mention it, hadn't they? They'd agreed--well, after a fair bit of argument--that if Draco was expelled it should be because he'd killed someone, not because he'd lost his temper and landed a punch.

After all, Hermione had done that much herself.

"No, ma'am, and I've been around him quite a bit of late," Hermione announced.

"And you, Mr Weasley, would you concur?"

Ron made a face. "You have no idea how much I'd like to answer yes," he said, sounding absolutely disgusted as he went on, "but yeah, I concur."

"I'd like to point out for the record that these students are sixth-year prefects," said Dumbledore. "Which means I highly respect their judgment of their peers."

Harry saw Lucius give the Minister of Magic a very slight nod.

Uh-oh . . .

"Oh, do you?" Fudge questioned Dumbledore. "Perhaps then, we should give the Governors a far more complete picture of Miss Granger's judgment of her peers. I have here before me a recent letter from Miss Hermione Granger to Wizard Family Services, in which she expresses her clear belief that Harry Potter is in . . . now what was her phrase?" Fudge shuffled parchments for a moment, then holding one up, resumed. "Imminent and incontrovertible danger, yes, based on her good-faith belief that Draco Malfoy has been taking advantage of Harry's lack of magic to pummel him daily!"

Fudge rounded on Hermione. "Did you write this letter?"

Hermione's eyes were almost wild as she gasped out, "Yes, but--"

"So were you lying in your letter to Wizard Family Services, or have you been lying to the Hogwarts' Board of Governors today?"

"Neither! I changed my mind--"

Fudge made a scoffing noise. "So you say now."

Hermione planted her hands on her hips. "I was worried that Malfoy was hurting Harry, but Wizard Family Services came and investigated and it turned out I was wrong, completely wrong--"

"So you admit that your judgment of your peers has been erroneous in the recent past!" declared Fudge in a tone of triumph. "Then why should we trust your judgment here today?"

"It's not a judgment that Malfoy wasn't on those stairs, Minister," Hermione icily returned. "It's a matter of fact."

"As it's a matter of fact that Wizard Family Services has received a letter from you detailing numerous bruises and injuries suffered by Harry Potter while living with little to no exposure to anyone save Mr Malfoy and Professor Snape! As the professor is most certainly above all suspicion, what are we to think except that it must have been Mr Malfoy causing said injuries!"

"Minister," Dumbledore sternly inserted, "I believe the record should reflect that Mr Malfoy was cleared in that matter."

"Oh yes, he's rather good at getting himself cleared, isn't he?" sneered Fudge. "Wizard Family Services seemed willing to believe that Harry Potter had been injured playing . . . rugby with Mr Malfoy, I believe the report reads. A Muggle sport. A story so patently false that I'd be surprised if a single governor here believed it."

The words had the desired impact; already, Harry could see several of the witches and wizards seated at the table shaking their heads at the idea of a pure-blooded Malfoy engaging in Muggle rituals, as one wizard put in in a hushed, sceptical tone. Lucius himself gave a deprecating little laugh, just as though the notion were absurd and he was frankly embarrassed that anyone would give it the slightest credence.

Harry felt a headache coming on as he sat there. He'd been so sure that Ron and Hermione could settle the matter of whether Draco had been seen on the Owlery stairs . . . he'd forgotten that Hermione's earlier complaints about Draco could come up. But how did Lucius Malfoy even know that WFS had conducted an investigation? Where had he got the blasted letter? Shouldn't a matter like that be held in confidence?

Steyne, Harry thought bleakly as the answer came to him. The Slytherin WFS worker out to feather his own nest. Lucius Malfoy would pay dearly for any information related to Draco or me, any information at all. Steyne's probably been on Lucius' payroll all along!

"Anything else for these witnesses?" asked Fudge. When no questions were forthcoming, he turned a frosty gaze on all four students. Harry noticed there were no thanks offered Ron and Hermione. "Dismissed, then. Now, if the Head of Slytherin House has no more witnesses to spring upon us, I would like to call the mother of the victim."

"Point of order," murmured Snape in a thoroughly civil tone. "I believe I speak for all of us when I say that no-one could fail to empathise with Mrs Parkinson's loss. Still, I fail to see her relevance to these proceedings. She was not present at Hogwarts on the day in question."

"Nor will she give testimony as though she were," Fudge said, glaring at Hermione's retreating back. "Some witches have more honour than to perjure themselves!"

"Minister!" admonished Dumbledore, shaking his head.

Fudge ignored the reprimand, as well he might. Board members were nodding at each other as though his words made sense. "Mrs Parkinson has asked leave to address the Board and I for one will not refuse a grieving mother such a request."

It took a moment for Pansy's mother to appear. When she entered, she was dressed in black mourning robes, a soot-grey veil over her face. She walked forward slowly, as though each step pained her, and came to stand just a few feet from Draco, who avoided looking her way.

A weak, shuddering motion of her hand lifted the veil away from her face.

No tears and sobs, not now. Mrs Parkinson's cold gaze swept the room, resting momentarily on Draco before she returned her attention to the Board.

"Madam," said Lucius Malfoy in a kind tone devoid of any sarcasm. In fact, Harry had never heard him sound so earnest. He couldn't help but find that creepy in of itself. "May I extend my condolences? No parent should have to endure what you have suffered."

She nodded her thanks, then kept nodding as each Board member, following Malfoy's lead, spoke briefly about her loss.

"I understand you wished to address the Governors?"

"Yes, Minister Fudge." The woman pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her mourning robes and dabbed at the corners of her eyes even though she wasn't crying. "I come here today to speak for my daughter, who cannot speak for herself. This boy, this horrid, nasty boy who has dined at my table and slept in my house . . . I beg you to look at him and see how he sits before you now without a shred of remorse, without the slightest trace of shame for this awful thing he has done--"

Snape abruptly stood up, his chair making a scraping noise that cut across Mrs Parkinson's words. Harry somehow doubted that was an accident. "Would the Minister kindly remind the witness not to assume Mr Malfoy's guilt?"

Before Fudge could say a word, Mrs Parkinson was rounding on Snape, her teeth clenched. Until she started yelling, that was. "You should be ashamed as well, Severus, defending this excuse for a Slytherin! Except that we know where your loyalties lie, don't we? You were her Head of House, too! She was your prefect! And you could not be bothered to so much as make an appearance at her funeral! But why should that surprise any of us? If you had any true loyalty to Slytherin, you'd never have taken Draco Malfoy in! He hexed my daughter right into the critical cases ward at St. Mungo's, and what did the Head of Slytherin do about it? Gave him an opportunity to stay on at Hogwarts' regardless. And look at what has happened as a result of that ill-informed decision, Minister, just look! Don't you tell me not to assume guilt!"

"I would like the Board to be aware that Professor Snape was absent from Miss Parkinson's funeral in order to see to the needs of Slytherin House," Dumbledore said in a mild voice as he looked over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

"Yes, they had all fallen ill; it was reported," murmured the pipe-smoking witch.

"Rather conveniently ill," said Mrs Parkinson. "Just as the original Aurors sent to investigate fell ill so that they could be replaced by Draco Malfoy's relative. And you expect me to take their findings seriously!"

The old witch in the yellowed lace leaned forward. "Madam, I am very sorry for your loss as I said before. But the purpose of this hearing is not to malign Magical Law Enforcement or cast aspersions on Professor Snape."

"Quite right, quite right," echoed the short wizard seated next to Fudge.

When Harry saw that several other wizards were nodding, he started to feel better. It would be all right. The Board wasn't daft enough to expel Draco when the Ministry itself had basically declared him innocent of the charges.

"I am not done speaking," interrupted Mrs Parkinson in a frosty tone.

Fudge, catching the mood of the Board, cleared his throat. "You may finish, Madam. But I caution you to speak only to what you personally know."

Harry almost would have expected Lucius Malfoy to glare at that. Or at least to stiffen. But the blond man just sat calmly back in his chair. Almost as though he knew what was coming already, as if he had no cause whatsoever to worry . . .

"Here is what I know," said Mrs Parkinson, dabbing again at her eyes. "Someone here at the school killed my daughter. I personally believe the guilty party to be Draco Malfoy, though of course I can't prove it. But what we do know is that he attacked my daughter quite grievously earlier this year, and swore at that time that he would kill her. And nothing was done about that. Nothing substantive. He should have been expelled then, at the very least. Instead he was allowed to remain in residence and continue his education." She took a step forward, her gaze sweeping the Board from one side to the other. "This Board sent the student body of Hogwarts a clear message on that day. That violence is tolerated, that there is no real consequence for poor behaviour, that the Board itself is weak and ineffectual. And here we see the result. Somebody, possibly Draco Malfoy, possibly someone else, felt at liberty to commit murder. And why, I ask you? Because this Board has no teeth. Mark my words, each and every one of you. If you take no action regarding this murder, you shall without a doubt see another."

A rush of sound swept across the Board as members began to murmur to one another. Has a point, she does . . . was a time when Hogwarts was safe . . . Malfoy's record marks him as a troublemaker anyway; what's one less troublemaker . . . He probably did it, you know. Aurors' report looks a bit biased to my eyes . . . Can we risk letting him stay on if it was him?

"There is no reason for a good-faith belief that Draco Malfoy committed the murder," Snape said, standing silently that time. "The Board cannot possibly--"

"Professor Snape," interrupted the wizard in the pointed hat. "The Board will thank you not to dictate what it can and cannot do. Your recent brave and honourable services to the Ministry do not, in my view, entitle you to such presumption."

Snape nodded, his long hair falling in front of his eyes until he brushed it aside.

"Mrs Parkinson, have you finished your statement?"

"Yes, Minister Fudge." She looked at the Board in clear challenge, then stepped back.

"Very well. In that case, the room will be cleared so that the Board may deliberate--"

"Ehem. I believe that Mr Malfoy has a right to make a statement, Minister."

Fudge sighed as though that were quite the unreasonable request. "Oh very well, very well. Stand up, Mr Malfoy. There is such a thing as common courtesy--"

Draco was already halfway to his feet by then, which Harry thought more or less proved that Fudge was the one without a shred of courtesy. "Honourable members," he said, nodding politely at each--

The magic doorbell began ringing inside Harry's head.

Harry was so startled that he almost shouted damn. He tried to ignore the din inside his ears, but the doorbell just kept on, loud and insistent. Harry could barely hear Draco over it.

" . . .while it is true that Nymphadora Tonks is my cousin--"

Almost snarling, Harry rushed out of his bedroom and checked the door parchment. Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley.

Great. Just what he needed. And it wasn't like he could ignore them, either. He didn't even want to imagine the scene that would ensue if his friends burst back into the expulsion hearing claiming Harry Potter had gone missing.

Yanking out his wand, Harry spelled the door open.

Hermione was first to rush over the threshold. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," she gasped out, panting. She and Ron looked like they'd run all the way down. "I had to come tell you before your father did! It's awful, it's just awful, and it's all my fault--"

"Quiet," Harry ordered, grabbing her wrist, his gaze warning Ron as well. "You don't have to explain, I know the letter came up and things don't look good. Just swear you'll be quiet, swear. Both of you."

"How do you know--"

"Just say you'll be quiet," Harry said, shaking her wrist a little.

"Uh, all right, I'll be quiet, but what--"

"Me too, mate," chimed in Ron.

"All right, but no talking," Harry warned in a low voice. "No noise at all. I mean it."

Letting her go, he stalked back to the bedroom.

Despite all the warnings, Hermione still gasped when she followed him in and caught sight of the wall. Harry gave her a look that would freeze embers, and she abruptly went silent, one of her own hands flying up to clamp across her mouth.

Ron actually handled it better, though Harry saw him mouth Bloody hell, his eyes wide with shock as he followed her in and saw the wall.

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy," Fudge was saying, though his tone was rather sneering. "Now, the Board will deliberate."

I missed Draco's statement, Harry thought with irritation. He was about to turn another rather fearsome look on the friends who had made him miss it, but the scene on the wall was changing aspect, shifting to follow Draco as he made his way out of the room, Snape at his side, Dumbledore close behind.

No, Harry thought. He wanted to stay with Draco, as it were, but it was more important to hear what the Board might have to say. He might hear something of use . . . but Draco was almost at the doors by then, and his desire to see the Board deliberate didn't seem to be changing the focus of the image.

Maybe it had to follow Draco from the room because of that initial Show me Draco command he had used.

Stepping to the wall, Harry positioned his wand once more and speaking in the lowest voice he could muster, hissed, "Show me Lucius Malfoy!"

The scene on the wall shifted, images rushing past in a dizzying circle as the vista swung back around to centre on Lucius Malfoy.

"What was that?" Fudge asked, glancing about, his mouth half-open with alarm. "Did you hear that hissing noise?"

"Minister." It was Lucius Malfoy who addressed him, his smooth tones respectful yet somehow still woven through with a sneer. Harry wasn't sure how he managed it. "The Board cannot deliberate, as you well know, until the room is cleared of everyone." He raised his eyebrows then, and simply waited.

Fudge didn't appear to catch on for a moment. Then a dull red hue rose to stain his face. "Of course, of course," he murmured, stepping away from his podium and down two risers. He nodded politely at the Board before turning his back and striding from the room.

"These deliberations are intended to remain confidential," said Lucius as the heavy double doors closed after Fudge stepped through them. "And as certain individuals hovering outside may well not respect that . . ."

He left the accusation hanging in the air. Harry was slow to understand it as a suggestion, but the witches and wizards on the Board caught on at once. Wands drawn, they began casting spells that showered the stone walls with bluish sparks.

Wards, Harry thought. Silencing wards, but they won't do you much good, will they? I'll still hear whatever you have to say of Draco's fate . . .

But he didn't, for as the spells grew in power, the enchanted wall before him began to grow solid, the images receding as a stone wall re-emerged into his bedroom. But there was no picture frame hanging upon it.

Sighing, Harry glanced about for any sign of the shard he'd used from Sirius' mirror, but it was missing as well. Hmm, maybe the wall would start showing the proceedings again as soon as the Governors lifted their warding spells.

Hermione, he realised, was tapping him on the back, her touch insistent. Can we talk now? she mouthed when he glanced over his shoulder at her.

"Yeah, it's fine," Harry said, grimacing. "Too bad, eh? I really wanted to see how Lucius Malfoy might try to sway them, and see what they decide . . ." Forcing his mind off the disappointment, he turned to face his friends. "Anyway, I guess you realise now that I heard everything you said up there. Um, thanks for trying, you know? It was good of you not to mention the black eye. I mean, I know you don't much like Draco . . ."

Hermione, Harry saw, looked about as close to tears as he had ever seen her. "I don't. But that's not why I wrote that awful letter. I wasn't trying to make trouble, I just thought you needed help, Harry--"

"I know." He tried to smile. "Maybe it'll be all right."

Ron made a sound halfway between a laugh and a snort. "He obviously matters to you, even after the black eye thing. Oh, well. I do believe you, you know . . . he didn't kill Parkinson. So I guess he doesn't deserve to be expelled, git though he still is."

Harry smothered a slight smile. "Uh, Ron . . . are you embarrassed that you helped defend Draco Malfoy?"

Ron's skin flushed. "Yeah, guess so. The stuff in the hearing's confidential though, right? Nobody in Gryffindor'll have to know?"

"It's supposed to be confidential," said Hermione using one of her more smarmy voices. "What were you thinking, Harry, spying like that?"

"I was thinking--" For just a second he wondered if he should just come out and announce that Draco was his brother. He still didn't think it would go over so well, though. "Look, I had to see how he was holding up. He puts on a front for you guys, but around me he's more relaxed and . . . well, he's a little bit like a basket case these days. It's all the stress."

Hermione sat down on Draco's bed, then crossed her legs at the ankle and looked up at Harry with a frown in her eyes. "The stress must be something awful," she sympathised. "His front cracked even with us, Harry. Wednesday morning when we came to fetch you; Draco talked to us for a bit while you were getting dressed. He . . ." She broke off, clearly uncomfortable, but then must have decided that Harry needed to know. "He seemed pretty convinced that he was going to get expelled. Normally I don't think he'd let us see how much it bothered him, but Harry . . . what he talked about most was how you were going to need all the protection you could get, how Ron and I had to be on guard because . . . ah, well actually he said that he'd probably get nabbed by his father and he thought he'd break under torture and they'd find out about your wandless magic and dark powers . . . it was awful, the things he said."

"Yeah, even I felt sorry for the git," admitted Ron as he flopped down onto Harry's bed.

"I felt sorry for him," said Hermione slowly, "but what got to me more than that was . . . his attitude, Harry. He was worried about what all that might mean for you. And . . . well it was probably that more than anything else that made me want to help him with the expulsion thing. And I don't mean so that information about your dark powers stays secret. I mean . . . Draco took me by surprise, saying things like that."

Ron nodded, the gesture glum. Harry could tell his friend didn't want to respect anything about Draco. But he'd had no choice but to respect that.

"You're calling him Draco," he told Hermione. "In the hearing it was Malfoy."

"Well I didn't want to sound like I liked him. I don't like him, all right? No matter what he said about me being clever, or pretty, even, I still think he largely adheres to pureblood beliefs. But . . . I don't want you to think he's my enemy either. Because if he's for you, well, then he can't be."

Ron, Harry noticed, didn't nod at that claim. Probably more than he could stand to admit.

Harry sighed, thinking it was pretty sad that Draco had felt a need to say all that to Ron and Hermione. "He's not going to get abandoned to Voldemort just because he gets expelled. Severus and I told him that, and in no uncertain terms, too. You might as well know that if worse comes to worst, Severus will resign and the three of us will leave the country."

Hermione uncrossed her ankles and leaned forward, her palms on the edge of Draco's bed. "Leave the country, Harry!"

"Yeah, mate, you can't leave Hogwarts--"

"Sure can. Look, I don't want to go abroad, but Severus and I are not going to let Lucius Malfoy get his hands on Draco." Sighing, Harry admitted, "I wish Draco could believe that. But he doesn't understand."

"Doesn't understand what?"

Harry gave Hermione a careful glance, then studied Ron. Maybe they could stomach the truth, now. Maybe Draco's admission of concern for Harry would smooth the way. "Draco doesn't understand love," he said, sitting down next to Hermione and looking across the room at Ron. "He's got no idea how much I love him."

Ron had been fidgeting up until then, but that claim had him going completely still. "Uh . . . yeah. You . . . you know it never once occurred to me, you two sharing a room but . . . uh, oh Merlin, Harry. Are you trying to tell us you've ended up . . . uh, attached to Draco Malfoy?"

Harry didn't like the way Ron had said attached. At least Hermione hadn't got hold of the wrong end of the stick. When Harry glanced at her to check her reaction, her lips were pursed as though she'd just love to smack Ron. Hard.

Oblivious to that, Ron went on in a strangled voice, "You don't want to snog him, do you?" And then, sounding like he'd die on the spot, "Have you already? No, wait. I don't want to know. Is that all right? Some things friends just don't need to know--"

"Oh, get your mind up out of the gutter!" Hermione exclaimed, though she glared at Harry. "How long were you planning to let him make an arse of himself?"

"I just wasn't sure what to say," said Harry, colouring. "It's not every day I get asked if I'm snogging Draco Malfoy!"

"No is what you say, Harry. And I don't know why Ron's thought processes should surprise you. He's the one who noticed you could stand for Professor Snape to touch you, and all at once decided that it went way beyond a hand on your shoulder--"

"I didn't really think that," shouted Ron as he jumped to his feet. "Would you stop throwing that in my face? I never really thought that. I was just angry that Harry announced he wanted him for a father. I was so angry I couldn't see straight, all right?"

"Are you still?"

Ron sat down again and shook his head at Harry. "No. Be good, all that . . . Snape seems like he's all right as a father, as far as I can tell."

Harry held in a grin. "As far as you can tell?"

"All right, fine. He seems like a good father, full stop."

"Seems?"

"Cut it out, Harry," snapped Ron, unamused. "There's a limit to how much I can admit without sicking up, you know. It's not easy for me, and hinting around that you're falling in love with Draco Malfoy isn't making it any easier--"

"Oh for God's sake, Ron! Nobody's falling in love. He's my brother!"

Ron stared at Harry, his eyes wide as saucers. "That's almost worse."

"No, it's not. It's great, because if you get to know Draco, you find out he's got this whole family-loyalty thing that's really important to him. Except, the Malfoys have disowned him. So Severus and I are his family now. Which actually isn't the only reason Draco's on my side, but it probably helps him feel better about it."

"You three have bonded," said Hermione, nodding as though it made perfect sense.

"You've bonded?" gasped Ron, going back into panic-mode.

"She doesn't mean magically bonded! Look, Severus unofficially adopted Draco, that's how it happened. He cares about us both and Draco needed to know he was just as much a son here as I was. And I can tell you one thing for sure -- my father wouldn't have appreciated it if I'd gone on about how I was the real son and Draco wasn't. And so that was it, really. I cared what Severus thought of me, so I didn't complain that Draco being his son meant the two of us were brothers. I just accepted it as fact and moved on." Harry gave a tremulous smile. "And just for the record, I like having a brother. I like him."

"Yeah, well I'd figured that last part out on my own," said Ron. "Why do you think I jumped to that other conclusion?"

"Because you're completely brainless, Ronald."

"I could have found a better way to tell you both--" Harry was saying, but he abruptly fell silent as the wall behind Ron began to dissolve. "Shh, shhh, the wards are being lifted," he practically hissed, waving an arm so Ron would turn around and see.

Beside him, Hermione had gone still and quiet.

The boardroom came into view again, the image centred on Lucius Malfoy since the spell, presumably, was still focussed on him. Jumping up, Harry fixed that with a quick, low, Show me Draco.

The boardroom spun on its axis until it was showing Draco from the side, as before, Lucius Malfoy still visible as well. Severus, Harry noticed, had a particularly grim look on his face. Clearly, he was expecting an unfavourable verdict.

Well, either that or he'd just recognised Harry's Parseltongue.

Harry shivered, absolutely hating the thought of what his father was going to say to him about all this.

Fudge was banging his gavel on his podium, even though most everyone was already paying attention. "The room will come to order!" When he was satisfied that every last eye was on him, he turned to face the Board members. Only when one of them gave him a sharp nod did he proceed. "I have before me the binding decision of the Hogwarts' Board of Governors regarding the expulsion of Draco Alain Gervais Luthien Malfoy."

He paused for effect, then raised his voice. "Effective immediately, Mr Malfoy is expelled on the grounds that he poses a grave danger to the safety and well-being of other students attending the institution!"

Harry saw Draco go as stiff as a board, his eyes glittering hard and silver as, for the first time since the hearing had begun, he looked directly at Lucius.

Lucius stared back, eyebrows slightly raised, his whole expression one of complacent amusement.

"Mr Malfoy," Fudge went on, "will surrender his wand to the headmaster."

"Point of order, Minister," Lucius broke in, his voice so smooth it sent shivers down Harry's spine. "The wand in question is my property. Mr Malfoy will surrender it to me."

Harry felt his fingers twitch at that, and recognised that his anger was trying to unleash itself again. He clenched his fists to keep it under control, and held his breath as he watched Draco stand up and walk stiffly forward, his entire bearing screaming that he was determined to remain composed. That Lucius wouldn't break him, not even with this.

The Slytherin boy held his wand out, holding it parallel in front of him instead of pointed at Lucius. There was no implication, that way, that he was threatening the man . . . but no offer of a wand truce, either. It was a completely neutral way to hand over a wand. Harry had to admit that he was impressed. It was all he could do not to hex Lucius, and he wasn't even the one getting expelled.

"Why thank you, Mr Malfoy," said Lucius in a sneering tone as he took the wand in hand. The minute touched it, however, a strange expression coursed across his face. Surprise, almost. Or maybe even a touch of respect . . .

The lineage potion, Harry thought. The one that makes the wand able to be used only by someone named Malfoy . . . Lucius is a Malfoy, so he can sense it, somehow. And he's impressed at this proof that Draco's been dabbling in the Dark Arts . . .

At that moment, more so than ever before, Harry got a sense of how hopelessly twisted Draco's childhood must have been.

Draco stepped back and looked about to take his seat again, but Fudge forestalled him. "You are no longer a student at this institution, Mr Malfoy. There is no reason for your continued presence. Indeed," here he glanced at Lucius as though seeking approval, "Hogwarts bylaws require you to leave forthwith."

"The Express doesn't run until morning," objected the pipe-smoking witch. Her eyes shone with more than a little bit of compassion. "Surely the young man can stay until then?"

"My apologies, Madam," Fudge said, shaking his head as he tapped the large sheaf of parchment before him. "The procedure is quite clear. He's to have an hour at most, and that only so that he can gather up his belongings."

"If you will excuse us, then," announced Snape, standing. "Draco?"

Turning his back on Lucius, Draco faced his real father.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Headmaster?"

"No, I don't believe so, Minister," replied Dumbledore while peering out over the top of his spectacles.

Fudge's fingers tightened on his gavel, but he didn't bang it. "I believe the Hogwarts' Charter is quite clear on the matter of who has the right to wear a house crest. Students, staff, and those who have successfully completed seven years of education at the institution, including passing at least one N.E.W.T." He gave the Governors a rather thin smile, as though the situation was unpleasant but he had to do his duty, nonetheless. "Mr Malfoy no longer qualifies."

"Of course," murmured Dumbledore, sorrow in his blue eyes. "Draco, would you come here please?"

Draco now, not Mr Malfoy. Harry appreciated that, even if the scene before his eyes was simply dreadful. As Draco walked towards the headmaster, Lucius Malfoy's eyes glittered maliciously.

"Courage," Dumbledore softly murmured as he waved a hand over the crest on Draco's robes. The Slytherin crest vanished as though it had never been, leaving Draco's robes a stark, unrelenting black.

"And any other crests he might have on other cloaks or robes?" asked the wizard in the pointed hat. Dumbledore merely stared, his blue gaze somewhat fearsome, until the wizard waved a hand. "My apologies. Of course they've been taken care of as well."

"It's time, Draco," said Snape in just about the most gentle voice Harry had ever heard from him.

The boy crossed the short distance to where Snape stood, his steps unsteady now. He'd managed to hold up well while giving his wand away, but he'd been expecting that might happen. The removal of his crest had taken him by surprise. His spirit obviously sapped, Draco looked as though his legs might collapse. Snape must have thought so too; the instant the boy got close enough, he took him by the arm and with a firm grip, kept him from stumbling further. The Potions Master nodded at the Board then, which irritated Harry. Shouldn't Snape be telling them how inappropriate their action was? How they were going to lose the finest Potions Master in all Britain now?

Shouldn't he be writing out a resignation and flinging it straight at them, accompanied by a few dozen scathing words about idiocy and irresponsibility and incompetence?

Harry couldn't believe Snape was taking this outrageous decision so calmly.

Then again, though, there was that discretion thing Snape was so fond of. He'd felt free to rail and scream at Dumbledore, but apparently he had a different code of conduct when it came to dealing with the Governors. Or maybe, he just didn't want to make Lucius Malfoy aware of his plans to take Draco abroad.

Draco and Harry abroad, he mentally amended. His family wasn't going anywhere without him.

As Snape and Draco walked from the boardroom, the magic image followed along, obeying Harry's last spoken command. His father and brother began traversing the long corridors to return to the dungeons, Snape still holding Draco by the arm, supporting him. Neither one of them said a thing as minute past minute they walked; Harry thought that rather strange. He was just about to tell the picture frame to go back to normal when Lucius Malfoy stepped lithely out of a side corridor and stood blocking them both. How had he got there so quickly?

Probably knows some secret passages . . .

Harry held his breath as he waited to hear what Lucius might have to say.

"Such a pity," the blond man oozed false sympathy. "Such a terrible shame. I did what I could for you, Dragon, when the Governors convened in closed session, but alas . . . it seems your conduct has simply been too egregious to overlook, this time."

Draco looked up, his eyes dull as he surveyed this man who was supposed to have loved him. He didn't reply. He didn't even grimace. He just looked . . . lost.

Letting go of Draco's arm, Snape stepped half in front of his son as though to shield him, his stance one Harry recognised from all their practice out in Devon. His father was ready for an attack, even though Lucius likely had enough subtlety not to launch one at such a time and place. Constant vigilance, Harry thought anyway. Good.

"If you'll excuse us, Governor, Draco has several things to occupy his next hour."

Instead of responding to that directly, Lucius drew Draco's old wand out of his pocket and began to twirl it between his fingers. "It's always nice to have a spare, don't you think? Two is better than one? Given your recent behaviour, Professor, I take it you agree. Allow me to enlighten you, however." Lucius dropped his voice to a smooth, menacing whisper. "A spare does you no good at all when you end up losing them both."

Harry shuddered at the word spare, to say nothing of the double meaning in all that. Lucius wasn't talking about wands at all.

Snape said nothing to the taunts, which of course only inspired Lucius to continue.

"I'm rather impressed with how seriously you're taking this self-imposed commitment of yours, Severus. Especially considering what little regard you obviously have for other commitments." His lips curling, Lucius gave a casual shrug. "My cast-off as well as a pitiful mistreated little boy complete with cupboard phobias. You must really be feeling an urge for repentance." His smile grew even more smug, if such a thing were possible. "Or maybe throwing around points and detentions is no longer sufficient to vent your frustrations. If you have any trouble disciplining the pair of them I know a rather useful spell--"

"Get out of our way, Lucius," growled Snape, teeth bared.

"Ah well, I suppose the final outcome left much to be desired." Lucius pocketed the wand and brushed his hands together as though to clean them of something particularly foul. "No matter, I'm sure I'll have the opportunity to demonstrate that spell, and many others, to you very soon. To all of you, including that scar-headed misfit you took in. A Gryffindor. Whatever were you thinking? I hear you healed his eyes? You might as well not have bothered, as he'll certainly prefer not to see what I've been saving especially for him. But father knows best, eh? Until then."

With that, he was stepping past Severus and Draco and striding smartly down the hall, his booted heels making clicking noises against the stone.

Draco stumbled over to the wall and leaned his shoulder into it, breathing heavily through his mouth. Snape went to support him, pulling him straight away into a close embrace, one hand moving to rub slow circles over the boy's back. The moment he was touched, Draco made a horrible gasping sniffling noise that just about broke Harry's heart in two.

"Harry," said Hermione in a wavering voice. "We really shouldn't be . . ."

"Yeah," said Harry thickly, moving towards his bedroom wall. "Go back to the way you were . . ."

The images vanished into stone, the enchanted picture frame abruptly clattering to the floor. Funny, it usually emerged from the spell hanging just where it had been before. And what was worse, there was still no sign of the shard of mirror he'd used. Harry glanced about everywhere, biting the inside of his own cheek in his worry, but it was no use. As far as he could tell, the mirror had been used up somehow. Consumed by the magic, probably.

Harry sighed, trying not to let that bother him as he picked up the picture frame and muttered a sticking charm to get it to stay in place on the wall.

"Yeah," said Ron, nodding at Harry's sigh. "Not even Malfoy deserves all this."

"Draco," corrected Harry. "He's on our side now; you even admitted yourself that you knew as much."

"Draco," said Ron, sneering it.

Well, it was a start.

"You'd better get going," Harry said, setting his wand down on the bed. "Really. Severus is going to be upset enough with me over the wall thing . . . uh, not supposed to do that spell . . . anyway, if he sees you down here, Hermione, after the way Fudge used that WFS letter to discredit your testimony . . ."

Hermione leapt up as though the bed had sprouted blast-ended screwts. "Right then, we'd better be off--"

By then, though, it was too late. The front door was creaking open on its hinges.

"Oh God," said Harry, wishing he had his dad's old cloak so he could toss it over his friends before his father saw them. Or before Draco did. He'd hardly want Ron and Hermione to see him at his lowest point.

Which they did already, thanks to me, Harry thought, feeling guilty.

Nothing to do now but brazen it out, though. Harry headed for the living room.

"Hey," he said, looking from Snape to Draco as they hung their cloaks. He tried not to look at the empty patch where Draco's Slytherin crest used to be. "Um . . ."

"You and I will be having a rather strongly worded talk," Snape bit out, his dark eyes flashing.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, chastened. "Draco, I . . . uh, heard. I'm really, really sorry."

The Slytherin boy's eyes were rimmed with red as he finally turned away from the wall to face Harry. "How did you hear?"

Harry bit his lip. "Well, I--"

He didn't get to finish the explanation, though. Ron's voice cut across his. "Harry, you should maybe come see this. Uh, Draco too . . ."

"Oh. They told you," Draco sneered as he follows Harry over to their bedroom. "And since when does Weasley call me Draco? That's all I need--" He stopped speaking abruptly when he came through the door and saw a small pile of clothes and books on the floor where his trunk used to be. "Weasley, what in bloody hell did you do to my things?"

"Me?" Ron huffed. "I was just standing here, and poof! Your trunk vanished in sort of reddish haze, and there was nothing left but that stuff there!"

"Oh, no . . ." Draco took three giant strides to cross the room and dropped straight to his knees to sift through the pile. "Reddish haze," he dully repeated, shaking his head. "Fucking goblins. Ought to be strangled, the lot of them."

"A financial spell, then," Snape confirmed. "The terms of your vault."

Draco rose shakily to his feet and tried to make light of it, whatever it was. "So much for nominal control."

"I don't understand . . ."

"Oh, how hard is it to grasp, Potter? I have to be a student here to keep my money, good standing, all that. Terms of the fucking trust. I told you that."

"Language, Draco," Snape said, rebuking him that time as he nodded slightly to the side. Towards Hermione.

"Oh, my apologies, Miss Granger," snarled Draco. "Forgive me if I was trying for once to treat you as an equal. Won't happen again. Have I offended your delicate ears?"

"I think my ears will survive," Hermione said in a mild voice.

"But what happened to your trunk, Draco?"

The Slytherin boy shot Harry an irritated glance. "You really are dense, aren't you? It was a wizarding trust. Magic? You have heard of it, I think?"

"Don't be a prat!"

Draco looked about to make a scathing retort, but he got a hold of himself and nodded instead. "Right. Yes. Well, it's all gone. Not just my access to the funds but everything I've ever bought with them. Trunk, books, most of my clothes . . . from the feel of it, right down to the pants I had on under my trousers. Well, they weren't so clean. I hope they show up right in the middle of the celebration party Lucius and my darling mother are no doubt holding as we speak." He drew in a shaky breath. "Well. This certainly simplifies my packing. That's something, I suppose."

"You were buying most of your own clothes?"

"Unlike you, I liked to be independent." Draco affected a shrug, but it didn't look as careless as usual. "Besides, Lucius didn't approve of the diamond buttons. Good thing he bought most of what I've got on now, though, or I'd be standing here starkers."

Ron probably didn't even hear the starkers comment, Harry thought. He was wrapped up in two words only. "Diamond buttons!"

Draco rounded on Ron. "Oh, yes. But they're gone now, along with every last Galleon I had to call my own, even the ones I withdrew in the past week trying to stave off disaster. Not that my nominal control would let me take out much, but that's a moot point now, isn't it? It's all gone back to Lucius. So just go ahead and laugh, Weasley! Well? Go on, laugh! Say it! Draco Malfoy's as poor as a Weasley! Write home, tell your friends, do your fucking worst!"

"Actually," said Ron with a not-so-nice gleam in his eye, "you're even poorer than we are. At least we have a house."

Draco lunged, only to be restrained by Snape's quick reflexes.

"Maybe you two should just go," Harry sighed. "I'll see you . . . I don't know. When I can, which might be quite a while."

Snape shook Draco slightly. "Behave yourself." Then letting him go, he turned to Ron and Hermione and spoke in cold, clipped tones. "Your efforts to exonerate Draco did not go unnoticed, I do assure you. Perhaps in future, Miss Granger, you will consider before you put quill to parchment that such things often last a great deal longer than one intends and can have less than salutary effects. Now be gone, both of you."

He all but herded them from the room.

"What the bloody hell did all that mean?" Harry heard Ron asking on the way out.

"Thanks for trying and by the way that letter you wrote was a disaster all around," Hermione translated.

The thud of the door closing behind them announced to Harry that he was alone with his family. At last.

"So I'll pack as well," Harry said in a definite tone. "Oh . . . most of my stuff's up in the Tower."

"So it is," said Snape in an hard tone. "Except items such as cloaks and maps, items no student should have. Shall we add picture frames to the list? I thought you had acquired a shred of common sense living here, but it appears I was mistaken! Risking yourself to the vagaries of untested magic once was not enough for you, I see! You had to do it again!"

Harry tried to brazen it out. "Well technically it wasn't untested this time--"

"Oh no?" Snape glared down at him. "I suppose the frame began to pass sounds through for no reason at all?"

Oh, yeah. "All right, it was untested," Harry admitted. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"No, it won't," Snape agreed, the claim delivered in a precise tone that was nothing short of chilling. "Because quite obviously, you can't be trusted! You're not to be alone in your room again, is that clear? And may Merlin help you if you disobey me on that account!"

Harry's mouth fell open. "But it's my room!" he protested, more than a little shocked. But then he remembered the other punishments his father had doled out. Five hundred points, ten thousand lines. This was more of the same, really. Overkill. "Listen, you're supposed to send me to my room when I'm bad, not tell me I'm not allowed in there!"

"And you are supposed to respect my opinions and value my guidance, are you not?"

The words struck a chord in Harry, which puzzled him until he remembered the forms he'd filled out right before the adoption. Snape was throwing his own words back at him.

"I do respect your opinions and value your guidance, I do! I just . . . I had to know! I had to stand by Draco!"

The Potions Master brushed his hair back from his face. "I'm not going to argue this now, Harry. You will go to the Tower tonight and come back down here tomorrow for the first of your Potions tutorials. Those are long overdue."

"Potions!" Harry erupted. What the hell was Snape going on about? "What about Argentina?"

"You may be certain that when I have something to tell you about our plans, I will tell you. As I do believe I mentioned. Now, do as I have said and go catch up to your friends. Draco needs to collect his things and leave for Devon." Snape waved his wand towards the wall that flanked the hallway, presumably to halt Ron and Hermione. Harry wasn't sure what spell would do that.

"If Draco's going to Devon I want to come as well," he protested. "We're in this together. Besides, you remember last time, he went a bit barmy--"

"Excuse me," Draco said in a pleasant tone, though under it lay all sorts of sharp spikes. "I am actually still here in the room listening. And for your information, I'm not going to slit my wrists or do whatever it is the Muggle-raised among us do when they're distraught, Harry. After all, it's not as though my whole world has collapsed. I'll still have my N.E.W.T.s to fall back on. Oh, but I won't. No matter, there's always enough money to keep me in silks. Oh, but there isn't. But at least the love of my life will stick by me. Oh, but she won't, ever, will she, because she's dead dead dead--"

"For God's sake, get him a calming draught," Harry begged his father.

"Ha, very funny. If I take another swig of that swill I will die, Potter. I've had it with being coddled."

"Harry, go to the Tower as I said. I will stay with Draco in Devon."

"Why can't I come?"

"Because my patience has a limit and you have exhausted it!" Snape shouted. "How can I be any more clear? You disobeyed me over the frame and now you are disobeying me again! Go catch up to your friends!"

Harry took an abrupt step back.

Snape paused, breathing rather deliberately for a moment, before appearing to calm. "Harry, Draco is what matters tonight. If you could think of someone other than yourself for five contiguous seconds, you would realise that he needs time alone with his father."

Harry had been thinking of someone besides himself, but he could also see what Snape meant. "All right, I'll go to the Tower," he said, chewing his lip. A chance for Snape and Draco to have a father-son chat was a good idea, even if the way Snape had gone about it, it had sounded more like get out of my sight.

It wasn't that, though. He had said to come back in the morning, after all. "What time for my Potions tutorial, sir?"

"Eleven," said Snape in a heavy tone. "If I am not here, wait for me. Do not attempt a Potion unsupervised. Do I have to ward the lab and your room to enforce my rules or can you act your age for once?"

"I can act my age," retorted Harry, stung.

"Let us hope so."

Sighing, Harry went over to his brother and looked him in the eyes. "I'm really sorry they expelled you. It's wrong and unfair. But it'll come out all right, Draco--"

"There you go with the infernal optimism," said the other boy, looking away. "I told you there wasn't one chance in hell this would end up any other way. And it's not going to come out all right. It can't, not now."

He meant the money, Harry knew.

An idea burst forth out of nowhere to fill Harry's whole mind. He really didn't know why he hadn't thought of it when Draco had first mentioned being worried about his vault. Well, maybe he did know. Most days, he tried pretty hard to avoid thinking of Sirius. But after using the mirror, after realising that Sirius would be proud to claim Draco as family . . . he couldn't help but think that this was exactly the right thing to do.

"No, it's not gone," he said, taking Draco by the arm. "You can have it all back. More than you lost, probably--"

"Harry," said Snape in a warning tone.

Harry ignored it. "I have Sirius Black's vault, Draco," he explained. "I was his sole heir. There's even a house! And it's really more yours than mine, all of it. You're a Black, too. I'll just sign it all over--"

"Shut up, Potter," said Draco in a low voice as he yanked his arm free.

"No, really, it should be yours," Harry insisted.

"Shut up about it!" Draco crossed his arms in front of him. "You're a complete fucking imbecile. It's not enough I have to lose my wand and membership in Slytherin. You want my pride as well?" His eyes glinted like daggers. "Well, you can't have it. Malfoys don't take charity."

"It's not charity! We're family!"

"Family!" screamed Draco, the word clearly some sort of fuse for him.

"Harry," Snape said again, his tones this time sounding more exhausted than anything else. "You'd better go. You're making things worse."

"But I--"

"Go."

So finally, Harry did.

Chapter End Notes:
Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other

Chapter Seventy-Eight: Third Time's a Charm

Comments very welcome,

Aspen

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