Chapter 183 – Ministry of Magic II
"How?"
Phineas paused thoughtfully before asking.
The wizard explained, "Well, you know what Azkaban is like. It's impossible for Sirius to be doing well in there. He's already skin and bones. Given the pressure you've been applying, the Ministry decided to bring him out early—to let him rest and avoid provoking you further."
Phineas smirked and asked, "Is this because of those families?"
The wizard nodded. "Of course. It's always them."
Phineas shook his head, a little amused. He knew Azkaban all too well. Sirius had been in there for eleven years. Even a few days in that place would drain anyone—let alone more than a decade.
Though Phineas despised how the Ministry played politics and power games, he wasn't going to argue about Sirius being released early. He wasn't interested in petty revenge. His problem was with Fudge personally—if that meant removing a few of Fudge's supporters along the way, so be it. That only freed up seats for his allies.
As for involving the Black family in Ministry politics, that had never been Phineas's plan.
With Grindelwald's rise in the early years and the subsequent decline of the wizarding world, the Black family had dwindled. The Death Eater crisis a decade ago left the main branch with only Phineas and Sirius. Apart from two members hidden away in seclusion, the only other surviving branch was based in Germany.
Those in hiding had no interest in politics—they focused instead on alchemy and potion research, bringing profit to the family in their own way.
The German branch worked for their own Ministry and had no role in British affairs.
As for Phineas and Sirius—Phineas had made his stance clear, and Sirius? He was far too reckless. Putting him in the Ministry would be as disastrous as sending him back to Azkaban.
So the Ministry's excessive caution was unnecessary—but Phineas didn't mind. If it spared Sirius a few days of suffering, then let them worry.
"Alright, enough talk," Phineas said. "Take us to him. Have the formalities been handled?"
The wizard nodded and handed over some documents. "I began processing everything as soon as the family sent word. It was all finalized yesterday."
This wizard belonged to a cadet branch of the Selwyn family. He didn't even carry the Selwyn name himself—his maternal grandmother had once been a Selwyn, and his family now operated under their banner.
That was the advantage of an old family name. Even if the core family wasn't politically central anymore, their branches and allies still wielded influence.
The Black family had once been the same, though Phineas and his grandfather had long ceased bothering with distant relatives.
The wizard rose, leading Phineas and Harry out of the office. It wasn't the official place to conduct this matter—he had simply volunteered to assist Phineas through the Selwyn family's request.
The three of them joined the flow of people and walked toward a desk under a sign that read Security Checkpoint. Beyond that point was the main Ministry of Magic. Everything before—those small offices—were used for routine tasks that didn't require direct Ministry involvement. It was more like a registration area in a hospital, with rotating staff from various departments.
A tired-looking wizard in peacock blue robes manned the desk. His stubble was unshaven, and he looked up warily when they approached.
"Master Black is here to retrieve Sirius Black from custody," the Selwyn wizard stated.
The man at the desk waved his wand indifferently. "This way."
He lifted a long, antenna-like metal rod and scanned both Phineas and Harry from head to toe.
"Wands," he said, setting the device aside.
Phineas handed his over, and Harry followed suit nervously.
The process was tedious, but Phineas complied. There was no need to embarrass this man—who had clearly been pushed into one of the most thankless positions in the Ministry. It paid poorly, came with heavy workload, and offered plenty of chances to annoy powerful people.
The wizard placed the wands on a strange brass device resembling a scale. After a few seconds of humming, the machine spat out narrow slips of parchment.
He tore one off and read, "Eleven inches. Core: phoenix feather. Used for less than two months?"
Harry nodded anxiously.
The man handed the wand back and turned to Phineas.
"Thirteen inches. Phoenix feather core as well. Half a year?"
Phineas nodded and took it.
The guard didn't press further—he knew exactly who Phineas was. And unlike other pure-blood heirs, Phineas wasn't the type to make a scene over formalities.
The Selwyn wizard gave the guard a polite nod. "Thanks, Eric."
He then led Phineas and Harry past the gate into a smaller hall, where at least twenty elevators waited.
Rather than queue with the rest, their guide led them to a quiet one. He pulled open the ornate golden grill and gestured them inside.
"This is the elevator for distinguished guests," he explained, noticing Harry's puzzled look.
What he didn't realize was that the timid-looking boy beside Phineas was Harry Potter. But even if he had known, he wouldn't have cared. He wasn't a Selwyn heir, nor a central player in politics—but he understood well enough that Harry Potter was just a figurehead. A symbol crafted by the common wizarding folk for peace and hope—an illusion of safety in the face of fear.
Right now, Harry was just a boy. A child who didn't know any magic. Not someone to be concerned with.