Last of The Fae Chapter 145: The Thane Fae Trials Pt.

"Mister Malfoy, you are identified as a key witness in the court's documents," Cassian Vale began, his voice calm and measured, "Can you elaborate on how, precisely, you are connected to the incident in question?"

Draco leaned back in his chair with a smug smirk, his tone laced with derision. "I'm connected to the alleged crime because I witnessed the whole thing firsthand."

Cassian gave a polite nod, showing no reaction to the boy's bait. He had been called worse by better men, and the tantrums of a privileged schoolboy would not shake his composure. "So you were aboard the Hogwarts Express at the time the Ministry of Magic initiated its unannounced search?"

Draco's brow furrowed slightly. "I just said that I—"

"A simple yes or no will suffice, Mister Malfoy," Cassian interjected gently, his tone never rising but carrying an unmistakable edge. His gaze met Draco's with calm finality—a subtle, unspoken challenge: try me.

Draco visibly bristled, his pride forcing him to restrain his tongue. "Yes," he ground out.

"Excellent," Cassian said with genuine civility, his demeanor so composed it made Draco's petulance seem all the more childish by comparison. "Now then, moving forward: can you recall your location during the incident in question?"

"Yes," Draco replied curtly, this time with a smirk, clearly hoping to flip the earlier tactic back on Cassian.

Cassian's expression didn't falter. Instead, a brief chuckle escaped his lips low, cultured, and effortless. "A fair attempt at wit, Mister Malfoy. Let me rephrase. Please describe your precise location at the moment the incident took place."

Draco's smirk faltered. He shifted in his seat before replying, "I was in the train compartment across from Thane."

Cassian cocked his head slightly, one brow raised in polite admonishment. "I must remind you that, in accordance with courtroom decorum, all present, especially those under formal inquiry, are to refer to noble persons by their appropriate titles. I will need you to restate your answer using the correct honorific."

A beat of silence passed.

Draco stared at Cassian, disbelieving. "That can't be a real rule," he said, tone skirting disbelief and indignation.

Cassian smiled, turning toward the central platform with theatrical calm. "I assure you, it is indeed a standing regulation, though often neglected in informal affairs. But this is a formal session with members of Wizengamot, and the rules are quite clear." He paused briefly, then added, "I'm sure our honorable Chair would agree that decorum is paramount in matters such as these."

Fudge, who had up to that point been observing with wary discomfort, visibly tensed at the implication. He gave Cassian a cold glare but knew he was cornered. To contradict the point now would undermine his own authority.

"The counselor is correct," Fudge said through gritted teeth. "Mister Malfoy, please restate your answer in accordance with court decorum."

Draco's face turned ashen, then flushed a deep scarlet. He looked like he had swallowed something acidic.

"...I was in the compartment across from Lord Fae," he muttered, each syllable of the title sounding like it physically pained him to say.

Cassian inclined his head slightly, the picture of gracious acceptance. "Thank you, Mister Malfoy, forgive my unyielding insistence that formailites be followed."

Draco said nothing, his lips pressed into a tight line. He refused to offer Cassian even a morsel of satisfaction. His silence wasn't strength—it was defiance, thinly veiled and poorly disguised as composure. Instead, he directed his frustration toward Thane, glaring daggers at the accused. But Thane met none of it. He remained perfectly still, seated with the unshakable poise of a man watching a chess game unfold rather than his own trial.

"Let's proceed," Cassian said, his voice a measured cadence of control. "In your previous testimony, you stated that from your position in the adjacent compartment, you had a clear, unobstructed view of my client during the alleged incident. I'd like you to confirm that again for the court. Is that statement accurate?"

"Yes," Draco answered, clipped and slightly impatient. "I was directly across from him."

"Very good," Cassian nodded. "Then, from that vantage point, Mister Malfoy—what precisely did you witness?"

That was the opening Draco had been waiting for. He sat up straighter, his eyes flashing with self-righteous fire. "I'll tell you what I saw," he said, the words seething with accusation. "After the train stopped, Lord Fae stepped into the corridor and deliberately unleashed his aura. The dementors responded instantly—he sent them into a frenzy, and they began swarming."

"Just to clarify," Cassian said, lifting an eyebrow, "you claim he initiated contact?"

"Absolutely," Draco snapped. "He knew exactly what he was doing."

Cassian gave no indication of how he felt about that answer. He merely nodded as though ticking off a checklist. "And that's all you witnessed?"

Draco's sneer deepened. "No," he said, practically hissing now. "Lord Fae then cast a Patronus charm—and not just any Patronus. It was powerful, corporeal. He used it to attack the dementors. Most were destroyed right then and there. The rest fled."

A tense silence fell over the chamber as Cassian took a slow breath, giving the court a moment to absorb the image Draco painted.

"It's curious," Cassian said at last, his tone light but piercing, "that you used the word attack, considering your testimony indicates that the dementors swarmed him first. Surely a countermeasure to repel dark creatures is an act of defense, not aggression?"

At Cassian's words, Draco's apparent anger melted away, replaced by a smarmy smile, "I thought that as well...until I watched Lord Fae capture a living dementor in an enchanted vial." 

A sharp ripple of whispers tore through the gallery like wind through dry leaves. Even the members of the Wizengamot exchanged glances, some of concern, others of interest. The tension mounted with every passing second.

Cassian's outward demeanor remained composed—but behind the veil of calm, a beat of unease struck. Just one. Subtle. Fleeting. And then it was gone.

"Are you making an accusation, Mister Malfoy?" Cassian asked slowly, his voice colder now, sharpening to match the moment. "Please be explicit for the record."

Draco leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with vindictive triumph. "I'm saying that Lord Fae deliberately agitated the dementors to provoke an incident just so he could capture one. He endangered every single student on that train. Maybe to work on some dark experiment for his company's next product."

Another wave of gasps echoed through the room louder this time, swelling like a rising tide. Some recoiled in their seats. Others leaned forward, hooked by the drama like moths to flame. For a moment, the entire room buzzed with unease, every word of Draco's accusation hanging heavy in the air.

But Cassian did not flinch.

There it is, he thought, watching Draco with new clarity. The crux of their gambit. The centerpiece of their carefully staged performance. But the boy played his hand too soon.

The shift was well timed, and the impact had landed. But the performance was rushed, and Cassian knew better than to respond on their terms.

Instead, he simply adjusted the sleeve of his robe and offered Draco a nod that was neither impressed nor dismissive—merely observant. Calculating.

"Thank you for your clarity, Mister Malfoy," he said quietly. "That will be noted in full. The defense rests your Honor." 

For a moment, Cassian's nonchalant response seemed to raise some eyebrows, and Fudge squinted his eyes at the man as if trying to figure out what secrets he was hiding, "Very well, does a member of the council wish to question the witness." 

The stands went dead quiet; no one wanted to become involved with the plot unfolding, and they bet on the losing side. 

Fudge nodded, satisfied, "Very well then, I now submit the accused Lord Fae to questioning in final testimony before judgement is passed."