One shot
Lucius sat up perfectly straight, posture filled with a disdainful arrogance as Harry crossed the floor of the courtroom. The crowd waited with avid anticipation for Harry to begin, expecting the damming evidence with a perverse relish. Humans, small and covetous, cannot help but feel a particular satisfaction in the public fall of the great. And Lucius had certainly fallen: his face was much thinner than it had been a month ago and his long white hair was dull and limp. His robes, in the past rarely worn more than once or twice, were worn around the edges. His pride was the last remaining adornment separating the aristocrat from the rest of the courtoom. Even the panel of judges looked eager, sitting up straighter in the great leather chairs.
Harry climbed onto the stand, and looked out at the crowd with an appealing expression of mixed humility and earnestness, waiting for a judge to begin to speak. The chief judge, an older man whose daughter, an Auror, had been saved by the Boy Who Lived when he destroyed the wands of the Death Eaters at the Final Battle, nodded, smiling encouragingly at the raven haired boy. Seeing the gesture, the prosecutor cleared his throat and began.
“Are you Harry James Potter, son of the late Lily and James Potter?”
“Yes, sir.” Harry's voice rang loudly and clearly in the hushed courtroom.
“And you are the same Harry Potter who defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort in the Last Battle?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And before that battle, were you not called the Champion of the Order of the Phoenix, and heavily involved with both intelligence and strategy in the war?”
“Yes, I was.”
“And, forgive me that I must ask this, were you not connected through your scar to Tom Riddle, the man known as Voldemort, and therefore able to see many of his thoughts during the war and throughout your school years?”
“Yes, I was.” Harry's voice trembled just a little, and the watching crowd murmured in mixed horror and sympathy.
“Could you say that you were in excellent circumstances to know not only the names of the Death Eaters but also any action they may have taken?”
“Yes, I was. At least, all of those ordered or witnessed by Voldemort himself.”
“And do you, Harry Potter, testify before this court in possession of your full faculties and with your complete consent?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Thank you, Harry.” He turned to the judges. “As you can see, the witness is in a position to know the full facts of this man's crimes.” He turned back to Harry, smiling broadly, clearly feeling assured of yet another conviction.
“Harry, was Lucius Malfoy a Death Eater?”
“Yes, he was.”
“Did he, in fact, commit countless murders and atrocities in the name of the Dark Lord Voldemort?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Was he actively involved in illegal Dark Arts during this time?”
“Yes, he was.”
“And,” The lawyers voice took on a note of triumph. “Was he involved of his own free will?”
Harry hesitated.
Lucius watched in a strange, sickened fascination. The next words out of the boy's mouth would be the ones to damn him to a life of soulless agony from a Dementor's Kiss. His eyes met Potter's and he drew in a short breath. Potter's eyes were glowing, shining with a familiar kind of light, though he could not place where it was from.
“No. He was not.”
The courtroom exploded into a roar of voices.
**********
The judge read the sentence from a small sheet of parchment, voice as dry as dust.
“Lucius Malfoy, you have been convicted of being a Death Eater, and as such are condemned to the Dementor's Kiss. However, in light of Mr. Potter's testimony that Mr. Malfoy was, for the latter half of the Dark Lord's rebellion, under Imperius, he shall be remanded into the custody of a wizard that this court deems a suitable guardian. After a probation not to exceed five years, Lucius Malfoy will be restored to full rights and his property will be returned to his keeping.”
Harry smiled.
Perfect.
**********
Harry looked up at Dumbledore, eyes filling with unshed tears.
“Please don't be angry, Headmaster. I just couldn't allow them to give him the Kiss. Not after… not after Draco…” He broke off, clearly unable to continue. Dumbledore nodded sympathetically, blue eyes resuming their good natured twinkle.
“Of course, my boy. I understand completely.” He patted the trembling boy on the back kindly. “But surely you don't believe you can redeem him? He is a very evil man, my boy, one I don't like exposing you to.”
Harry bit his lip and lowered his eyes to conceal the flash of rage that he could not stifle, before continuing in a submissive voice.
“I know, sir. But I promised Draco that I would help his father, and I didn't know what else I was supposed to do.” He looked back up, eyes wide. “They were going to kill him, Headmaster! I had to do something; I can't break my word. I know that with time I can bring him over to our side!” Harry's eyes and voice pleaded with the Headmaster for understanding. Despite his resolve, Dumbledore wavered. After all, what could be the harm in allowing the boy his games? And if such a small thing could keep him satisfied, it would be well worth the extra effort. Harry's usefulness was not yet gone, and it had become progressively harder to keep him under control as he got older and demanded more independence. Dumbledore nodded his head sharply, deciding.
“Alright, Harry. You may try to rehabilitate the man.” Harry's eyes lit up and Dumbledore raised a warning finger. “But I will not take any chances with your safety. Even without his wand, the man is dangerous. After you collect him from prison you must apparate immediately to a safehouse I will prepare for you. There, Lucius will be kept under Order guard at all times.” He smiled. This would entail Harry being kept under a close watch as well, without it seeming to be a guard on him. Harry was already nodding enthusiastically, face radiating a simple happiness.
“Yes sir, thank you sir!”
Dumbldore gave him a final pat, and nodded.
“Of course, my boy. After all, I have only your best interests in mind.”
“Oh, I know, sir. I know.” Harry apparated from the room, waiting until he arrived at his destination to laugh triumphantly.
********
The prison looked exactly like he remembered it. The flat grey stones seemed to absorb the cheerful sunlight of the day, keeping the hallways and cells in a state of perpetual gloom, barely relived by the torches spaced every ten feet along the walls, and the floors were of doubtful sanitation. The prison meant for wizards who were being held, but had not been sentenced to Azkaban, didn't have the aura of absolute despair surrounding it, but was still not a luxury resort.
He reached the corridor he knew Lucius was being held in and nodded at the guard sitting at the entrance who, after doing a double take upon sighting his signature scar, nearly fell over attempting to bow and open the iron gates at the same time.
The cell was the last one of the row, and was secured by a simple iron lock. Anything more was deemed unnecessary as the prisoners did not have access to their wands, and the ability to use wandless magic was so rare as to be nonexistent.
It was a simple rectangle, holding nothing more than a narrow cot and a sink. The water closet was, presumably, behind the wood door on one end. Lucius sat, eyes closed, on the edge of the bed. His hair was still pulled smoothly back, but his robes were a wrinkled mess, quite unlike they had been even towards the end of the Final Battle, his eyes had deep purple circles under them, and his cane was nowhere to be seen. When he made no move to acknowledge his visitor, Harry knocked sharply on the bars. One silver eye cracked open, as sharp as ever despite his bedraggled appearance.
“Yes, Mr. Potter? You wanted something?”
Harry's eyes glinted, flashing the odd emerald glow. Lucius suddenly realized where he had seen the color. Avada Kedavra. Eyes that shone the color of death. Did the fit the Savior of the world?
“Draco told me a lot about you, Mr. Malfoy. He was a very loving son, you understand. He didn't want to betray you at all; thought he was helping you in fact.” Harry lips twisted into what might be generously called a smile. “He worshipped you.”
Lucius snorted in disbelief. Harry shrugged carelessly.
“Oh, but he did. He knew that Voldemort was insane, you see. His first Death Eater meeting convinced him of that. The poor boy didn't want his beloved father serving the whims of a madman for the rest of his life. He joined us on the condition that you would be allowed to go free when the side of “Light” won.”
Lucius started, exhaling explosively.
“That little idiot! Did he honestly believe that Dumbledore would allow any Death Eater to go free once-”
Harry waved his hand dismissively.
“Draco was very young, Mr. Malfoy. He had no, could not have had any, idea that the beloved Hogwarts Headmaster and champion of the Light could be anything but honorable. The point was that Draco worshipped you, speaking of you in nothing but the best terms. One could barely get him off the subject, in fact.” He paused to sweep his hair off his face, unconsciously rubbing his scar. Lucius felt an odd tingle at the base of his spine.
“So what is your point, Mr. Potter? I hardly think you so generously rescued me from the Dementor's kiss to reminisce over my late son's memories.” Lucius' voice hitched ever so slightly over the word late, and Harry's lips twitched every so slightly, eyes narrowing with a gleam of satisfaction.
“Actually, I did, sir. He didn't just talk about your sterling horsemanship, you know. One of the foremost topics was your simply amazing skill at organization. Apparently, the Dark Lord didn't have the kind of time it took to do the day to day managing of a world wide network of Death Eaters and Dark creatures. And he certainly wasn't skilled enough in diplomacy to negotiate for the services of the aforementioned persons. It was his right hand man who did most of that kind of work.”
Lucius frowned, bemused at the trail the conversation was following.
“I ask you again: what is your point? I hardly think that my experience organizing a legion of Dark creatures will benefit the Ministry or the Order. Neither has shown any interest with creating an alliance between the Light and Dark races of the world, or keeping any kind of standing army like the Dark Lord did. The Aurors are sufficient for the Wizarding world's needs at this point in time.”
Harry's smirk grew until it was a full smile, almost cheerful. His teeth shone brightly in the dim light of the cell. It was a carnivore's expression, out of place on his young sweet face.
“I have not once claimed I am an agent of either of those organizations. I do hope I haven't given you that impression, Mr. Malfoy. It was not my intention to mislead you. I have quite a different proposition for you, actually. One more in line with your past experience, without all the troubling layers of irrelevant authorities between you and… myself.”
Lucius' mouth dropped open in a rare moment of complete and utter shock, hollowed cheeks momentarily flushed with blood in a rush of adreneline.
“Mr. Potter, what are you suggesting?” Eyes widened in sudden incredulous realization. “Are you asking for me to set you up as the next Dark Lord?”
Harry nodded beatifically.
“Precisely, sir.”
Lucius snapped his mouth shut, eyes taking on a calculating light.
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I will have the Dementors in here so quickly that your soul will get whiplash as it is sucked out of your body.” Harry stated it calmly, without rancor or doubt. Undaunted, Lucius sneered.
“And what makes you think they will obey you? I was just pardoned, if you will recall.”
Harry laughed, genuinely amused.
“Please? The word of the world's savior against a suspected Death Eater? I could merely claim that you had me under Imperius and you would be right back on death row.”
“Imperius? I didn't even have a wand on me at the trial! It broke during the final battle!” He paused, then glared. “You were the one to break it, as I recall, right after the Dark Lord collapsed. The backlash from the spell snapped it in two.”
“Ah, so you claim, and so I backed you up. But if you had placed the spell during the battle itself so that I would not deny your story, then hid the wand on your person during the trial to force me to help you?”
“That is ridiculous! How could I have hidden anything? I was searched so many times I am lucky my guards didn't wear holes in my robes! Besides, surely they found the pieces of the wand when the battlefield was cleaned.”
Harry shook his head, grinning.
“No, they didn't find a thing. Strange, really. Raised quite a bit of suspicion at the Ministry.” He adopted an expression of sudden realization. “Oh, wait. I remember now!” Harry put his hand into his robe pocket and pulled out a freshly mended wand, twirling it between his fingers. “I must have completely forgotten. I found these lying about and thought they were from my spare wand. It uses veela hair too, you know. An innocent mistake on my part.”
Lucius eyes widened until white showed all around the iris.
“You scheming brat! You took it!”
“Well, I thought that in the worst case scenario I might need a little bit of extra suspicion on the part of the Ministry to convince them of my story. It is, after all, on the tenuous side. The Imperious spell doesn't normally work on me, and I couldn't afford any skeptical minds to begin prying into my tale.”
Lucius shook his head in disbelief, feeling a measure of reluctant admiration for the extent of the boy's preparation.
“I see. You have been planning this out for a while.”
“Indeed.”
Lucius leaned back against the wall, crossing his legs, and considered briefly. He turned back to Harry.
“What kind of man are you, Mr. Potter?”
Harry smiled thinly, eyes growing quite cold, and he raised one hand slowly to his forehead, drawing his index finger down the famous, jagged scar. Lucius' eyes widened and his knees hit the cold stone floor with an ugly crack, pain lancing up his arm where his Dark Mark had been. Lucius gripped his forearm tightly as he knelt at the younger man's feet, expression warring between a curiously hungry gaze of hope and fear.
“Voldemort?”
Harry waved a hand.
“Not quite. There were merely… unexpected consequences to his umlamented demise. I personally feel no real need to rule the world after I have won. I assume that between us we can come up with a plan to deal with the problem of new management once the current one is rotting in the ground.”
Lucius surprised himself by cracking a tiny smile, his first one since he heard of his son's betrayal and death.
“Dumbledore would say you slice hairs quite thinly, with such a plan.”
Harry nodded, flecks of emerald lighting dancing merrily in his eyes.
“Perhaps you are right. But we can deal with those kinds of labels after we kill the current leaders. Do we have an agreement, sir?” Harry held his hand out through the bars, and locked Lucius' silver eyes in his gaze. Lucius stood up slowly and crossed towards him.
“I don't believe I have a choice. Besides,” he flicked a disdainful finger at his surroundings. “I have a vested interest in the Ministry's and Order's suffering.” He stuck out his own prison-filthy hand and grasped Harry's firmly.
Harry looked at him, an eyebrow raised.
“Aren't you going to ask me why?”
“Are you going to crush Dumbledore and his Order?”
“Oh yes. Do not have any concerns on that score.”
Lucius shrugged carelessly but his eyes shone with a vicious light to match Harry's own.
“Then I do not care.”
Harry nodded, oddly satisfied, and gripped his hand tighter, apparating them both away.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Harry/Lucius pre-slash
I think this is going to be a one shot. Maybe I will continue it one day...