                Hermione had long since decided that she would plead guilty to her crimes. She had done the ritual knowing it was dark magic, knowing it was necromancy, even if she hadn’t been aware of the exact illegality at the time. She had kidnapped and experimented on a Hogwarts ghost. She had, for reasons she still didn’t understand, worsened the strength of the door in France, killing all those poor people. She had stolen documents from an auror’s office, let a wizard on parole free from his designated boundaries. She had brought Lucius Malfoy to his death. And to her, that was the worst crime of them all. It was her reason for pleading guilty. Her one chance at expunging, even just a  tiny  amount, of the grief and guilt she felt over his death. Fate had killed Lucius, in the end, but Hermione had led him there.