Chapter 62 Plea bargain I

Ministry of Magic Court. Wizengamot.

Vincent was present amidst the crème de la crème of the magical society: influential families, elected officials, nobles, technical professionals, and of course, His Excellency, the Minister for Magic, Harold Minchum. Well, he wasn't exactly with the crowd, but above them, in the form of a raven, perched beneath a light fixture, even higher than the noisy fluttering of the Ministry's owls.

And even higher than the tense atmosphere below, marked mainly by a failed attempt at quietude. He could hear muffled whispers, the flapping of owl wings, and the careless rustling of bodies in the seats.

Separated from them, there was a young lady with a firm posture. Her slender frame was draped in a long black cloak, and her right hand held a dark green purse across her lap. Her pale, slightly bruised face was highlighted by bright, fiery eyes. Her blonde hair, with a black streak at the top, adorned her head.

Minister Harold Minchum, an elderly man with a tired appearance, ascended the elevated English oak podium. Behind him, Ministry banners gently swayed from flagpoles, symbolizing the authority in the room. In front of the Minister, a crescent-shaped gallery was packed with eager spectators, filling every corner of the amphitheater.

He cast a glance at the woman seated beside him, positioned in a chair strategically placed so that everyone could see her clearly. His voice, heavy with formality, echoed through the hall:

"Narcissa Malfoy, I thank you for your presence on this occasion. First and foremost, allow me to clarify: you are not here as the accused, but as a guest. You are not obliged to answer any questions, but given the gravity of this event, you will be responsible for every word you say. Therefore, I advise you: speak only the truth."

Vincent, watching all of this, sneered inwardly. So much ceremony, so much theatrics. It was clear to him that this was all a show, one that he had even helped set up. Everything Narcissa would reveal, the Ministry already knew; she had already handed over the documents and evidence, all the agreements had been negotiated. In other words, it was a performance for the public.

'Perhaps this is the purpose of all courts, after all—deals are made behind the curtains through long, tedious negotiations, where the cold, hard truth is laid out as it is: what is to be gained, what is to be lost, what is conceded, what is off-limits.

And then, it is presented to the people to formalize the decisions. This is why governments create courts,' Vincent thought, catching another nuance of politics.

He noticed Narcissa was nervous under the spotlight; she was sweating and repeatedly pressing her lips together. She could slip up and ruin the show he'd set up for her. Before she could make any mistakes, he took flight. Gliding down gracefully, he landed in her lap, his presence immediately felt. She wasn't alone.

She lowered her head for a moment, offering a sheepish smile, then looked to the gallery and said, "Apologies, this is my familiar. He is always with me. I'm sure you wouldn't mind the guest having her little companion, would you?"

A slight stir passed through the tribunal where the officials were seated, among others. But before the Minister could call for order, someone rose first. A bearded old man in a pink robe, accompanied by a phoenix, stood up, waving his hand for calm. Some in the crowd followed his voice, as though following the old man was the most natural thing in the world, while others muttered veiled insults before falling silent.

"Of course, Miss Malfoy. I myself would not feel right without Fawkes, and I'm sure the noble wizards present here wouldn't mind a guest being accompanied by her little companion." He winked at Narcissa, his smooth, almost melodic voice spreading through the hall, carrying an insinuation that sounded more like an order, an order that no one in the room would dare to disobey.

Narcissa cast an unreadable look at the old man. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore."

Being here, so exposed, felt like a banquet laid out for enemies, going against everything she had ever been taught. She was, without a doubt, a Black. And the Blacks were stellar powers, admired, never to be treated with such disregard. Though she wasn't as powerful as Bellatrix, her older sister, who could sweep the floor with the bodies of an entire squad of seasoned Aurors, or as fearless as Andromeda, the rebellious younger sister who ran away to marry for love.

She didn't even have a name linked to any celestial star, like the "true" members of the Black family. To them, she was weak, deserving only of an ordinary name, discarded like merchandise to be sold in the future. She could do nothing against it, only survive, her life driven by the interests of others. But not anymore. She had discovered a strength that placed her on the same level as any other Black. She had two children, her everything.

And even though she wasn't a true Black, she was undoubtedly a mother. And there was nothing a mother wouldn't endure to protect her children.

She didn't know what the Whispering Raven wanted, but she knew she owed him an immeasurable debt, which was why she was here. And after today, she knew that every dark family tied to Voldemort would want her head. Not that it was a problem. Her secret confidant had proven reliable and powerful during the Death Eater squads' pursuit. And her patron, even, had defeated the Dark Lord himself.

But despite all of this, she felt fear, not for herself, but for her children. At least she knew she needed to secure the Malfoy assets and rights for them. And, on top of that, ensure a unique political position that would come with it.

She had no time to calm down completely when an elderly man with a prominent mustache and wearing an official robe rose.

"The court has decided that Miss Malfoy may keep her pet, but insists that it be kept under control so as not to disrupt the meeting."

Narcissa recognized him; this was Bartemius Crouch Senior, the current head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She nodded in agreement. "It's fine, sir."

The man in question nodded toward her. Then, he turned to address the others present. "I, Bartolomew Crouch, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, officially begin the meeting regarding the testimony of Narcissa Malfoy."

He then approached Narcissa, speaking to her again. "Before we proceed, some questions must be asked. You are Narcissa Malfoy, née Black, and the wife of Lucius Malfoy, a convicted fugitive and Death Eater, convicted by this court."

Narcissa responded, "Yes, I am Narcissa Malfoy, and I am also the wife of Lucius. Although this marriage was against my will."

At this, a middle-aged man, dark-haired with gray eyes and long black hair, distinctive Black family features, made a slight grimace of disdain, for reasons only he would know.

"Do you have any current information about Lucius?" asked the head Auror.

Narcissa raised her voice, more emotionally, and appealed: "No, Your Excellency, I have no current information about Lucius, and it is of my utmost interest that he pay for the terrible crimes he committed against the magical people of Great Britain. Not to mention his attempt to harm my daughter, Elise Rigel Malfoy.

May he receive the Dementor's Kiss and die. That way, my children can grow up far from the terrible monster that is Lucius Malfoy."

After this declaration, the murmurs from the audience spiraled out of control; some shouted that Lucius deserved such a fate, others that it was absurd. But they were silenced by one of the official referees present.

This gave Narcissa the time to finish, "Moreover, as you should already be aware, I have handed over all illicit documents I had access to, as well as my testimony regarding Lucius, to Your Department."

Crouch paused as he noted Narcissa's words in the official record of the meeting. "I understand your fear, madam. The Ministry is doing everything possible to locate and bring your husband to justice."

"But continuing, you were born on September 29, 1955, and are the daughter of Cygnus Black III and Druella Rosier."

Narcissa confirmed, "Yes, that information is correct."

Crouch hurried to ask a question, trying to fish for something. "Are you aware of the rumors involving the Black family as supporters of the Dark Lord? And do you have any information to share with this court about the Black family's involvement with Voldemort?"

The man from before stood, his face showing visible dissatisfaction, but still saying nothing, waiting for Narcissa's response. He was none other than Cygnus Black, her father. Narcissa, however, kept her calm and was about to make her statement.