Chapter 27- The Verdict

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"Draco Malfoy. The youngest Death Eater in history, charged with refusal to renounce pureblood supremacy after the Second Wizarding War. Is it correct that you are here to properly atone?"

"Yes."

"And you are agreeing of your own free will to a surgical procedure by Dr. Erica Thorncroft to attempt the removal of the Dark Mark?"

"Yes."

"Explain to the jury why you want it removed."

"Because it's rotting," Draco snapped. Shacklebolt and Hermione exchanged looks. Hermione cleared her throat.

"We request that you show us the current state of the Mark." Hermione commanded.

Draco roughly unclasped his cloak and let it fall to the courtroom floor, revealing his cast and sling. He removed the sling, and then began to unravel the layers of protective gauze and medicine I reapplied to his forearm every day.

The jury gasped when the festering forearm was revealed. The design of the Mark was nearly unrecognizable, as it was now surrounded by an outline of exposed flesh and sprawling black veins that ran all the way up to his elbow. I had gotten used to seeing it because I checked it every day- but I completely understood why some of the witches and wizards had to look away.

Draco used his right arm to hold his left arm up to the audience so Shacklebolt could see."You want to know why I want this removed? I no longer have function of my left arm. It's spreading infection into my entire body. I've been in agonizing pain for five years and it'll probably kill me." Draco paused, allowing himself to take a breath. When he continued speaking, something in his voice changed.

"And I... I despise the Mark. I hate having to look at it. It reminds me every day of a past I'm not proud of. They say Voldemort only gave it to his most loyal followers. But I was only 17. It was a mistake I made in poor judgment and naive haste."

Someone in the jury spoke up. "You're claiming you were too young? You were old enough to decide. So you're old enough to live with the ramifications." A few people mumbled in agreement.

Draco turned to the juror. "Is it not in human nature to change? It's been 13 years." He growled. "I've changed."

Shacklebolt's voice boomed. "Draco Malfoy. Do you now go on the record to reject and renounce pureblood supremacy?"

Draco looked Shacklebolt right in his eyes. "I do."

I exhaled in relief, feeling a tension be lifted from the room. But Hermione had yet to be convinced.

"Prove it," Hermione barked. "How can we be sure that you do not still believe in pureblood ideals?"

Draco glared up at Hermione. "How am I supposed to prove that? Is my word enough to convict me but not enough for exoneration?"

"I can prove it."

Every set of eyes in the courtroom went to me, who had just spoken out of turn. It didn't seem to matter to Hermione. "Whatever proof you have, you may present it now."

I saw Draco give me a look of uncertainty as I walked to the podium beside him. "I present myself as proof. My mother, Gwendolyn Thorncroft, married a squib, Xavier Sloan. I am their daughter."

The courtroom murmured. 'The Sloan family?' 'I didn't know they had a Squib son...'

"That means, technically," I swallowed, realizing I was about to reveal one of my biggest secrets to the entire Wizarding World. "...I am not pureblood. Draco is the only person who knew before this moment."

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