Nott, II
Theodore's heart crawled up into his throat. It was one thing to answer inane questions. It was another to fabricate and deliver a lie to a court, knowing that this particular fabrication, this very particular lie, might alter the course of your life. He struggled to stand, supporting himself on the edge of the chair, and faced the Wizengamot. He felt small, then. No amount of self-confidence, even if he'd had any right now, could compare to the combined knowledge of the men and women in this room. It was daunting.
"I realise my father did terrible things." That was true, and it showed in the colour beneath his ears, smeared across his neck in a red badge. "Many people do terrible things when they believe they are doing the right thing." His mouth tightened, and he forced himself not to be too honest.
"While I do not agree with the actions of death eaters, I know that I am guilty of aiding them. I know that I have allowed sentiment and familial duty blind me to my duty to the Ministry. I made a mistake, and there is no reasoning that can justify it."