Harry Potter, the related characters and universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. This was written for my amusement and that of others, no form of financial remuneration has been, or will be received by me.
Lucius Malfoy sat in the prisoner's dock, manacled, wearing a muggle jump suit with HM PRISONER stenciled on the front and back. His hair was unkempt, which bothered him more than the so-called trial.
There was no audience, something for which he was grateful. His barrister had said something about 'proceedings held in camera' — whatever that was; Lucius' Latin allowed him to translate it to 'in the vault.' Only his barrister, the Crown Prosecutor and the judge were present. He knew he was a dead man, the only question remaining was if he would be allowed to die with some semblance of dignity.
After the disastrous battle at Hogwarts, he'd been captured. He shivered, remembering the ice-cold tone in Harry Potter's voice. "Congratulations, Malfoy. I can't kill you now." Potter had paced back and forth a bit. "But I can make the rest of your life a living Hell. And I will."
Day after long day, he'd been interrogated under Veritaserum. He'd written and signed a confession, the Crown officers unaware that he had been controlled by the Imperius curse as he did so. Then Potter had appeared in his cell one night, stripped him of his magic and laughed in his face. "The Prime Minister sent your confession to the Queen. She's seen the pensieve memories. She's personally instructed the judge, the Crown Prosecutor and the Home Secretary as to how you are to be handled. I have no idea what her orders are, but I suspect you won't enjoy them."
"The prisoner will rise." Lucius shuffled to his feet, facing the judge.
"I have read the parts of your confession allowed me by Her Majesty. I have seen some of the …" he paused. "Some of the videos of your acts and those of your fellows." He paused again, a look of utter contempt on his face. "By direct order of Her Majesty the Queen, you are sentenced to imprisonment for the rest of your life without parole or appeal." He paused again. "On my own cognizance, I hereby order that such imprisonment shall take place at Her Majesty's Prison Maze in Northern Ireland. May God have mercy on your soul."
The judge turned to the prosecutor. "This prisoner shall be known henceforth only as HM Prisoner. No name, no number. No special confinement, other than the general population at HMP Maze. Inquiries shall be directed to me, the Prime Minister or Her Majesty. Note this in the records sent with HM Prisoner." He paused again, then turned to Malfoy's barrister. "These proceedings are covered by the Official Secrets Act. Violation thereof shall be punished harshly."
Two days later, Lucius Malfoy discovered the Provisional Irish Republican Army and the joys of being an English aristocrat in Long Kesh.