"Sirius Black, do you have anything to say in defense of your crimes?" Fudge's voice boomed through the courtroom.
Sirius shrugged, as if wanting to scratch his ear, but the chains binding him to the chair held him fast. He slumped back, his tone laced with incredulity. "I'm not guilty—I said that a week ago, and you were there. I figured after all this time, you'd at least have some evidence."
"You were caught at the scene of the crime," Fudge said coldly. "You killed Peter Pettigrew with your own hands, blew up half the street, and caused the deaths of twelve Muggles. When our people arrived, I saw it with my own eyes… you standing among the bodies, laughing maniacally. Muggle corpses, Peter Pettigrew's remains. After you were taken into custody, you refused to say anything. When your closest comrade came to plead with you, all you said was, 'I deserve it.' Based on that, the Ministry sentenced you to life in Azkaban."
Sirius's expression grew distant, almost dazed.
"Do you confess to the crime?"
"What?"
"Killing Peter Pettigrew—"
"I thought I killed him," Sirius murmured.
"There were only two wizards at the scene!" Fudge roared. "If it wasn't you, are you saying Peter Pettigrew killed himself?"
"You're half right," Sirius said, his face twisting into a strange expression. "I always thought he was a cowardly little rat his whole life, but that night, he surprised me. I tracked him down to a busy street, but he turned the tables, shouting that I betrayed James and Lily. I decided to use my wand to shut him up, but I didn't mean to kill him—I just wanted to catch him, to force the truth out of him. But it was Peter who blew up half the street, using some magic I didn't even know he had. We'd known each other for nearly a decade—how could I not know what he was capable of? That's when it hit me. I went for the kill… but I didn't get him. He escaped, slinking off into the sewers with his filthy friends."
"Preposterous!" Fudge sputtered.
"Preposterous indeed," Sirius said softly, ignoring Fudge's scowl, which looked dark enough to drip water. "If I'd realized sooner, if I'd noticed something was off… James and Lily wouldn't be dead."
"Sirius Black," Amelia Bones interjected, her voice resonant and grave, "this is a courtroom. If you believe you're innocent, tell us everything you know, plainly and fully. Save your self-pity and guilt over your friends' deaths for after the trial—share it with your godson if you're truly innocent. Do you understand?"
At her words, the members of the Wizengamot began whispering among themselves. A dozen witches and wizards in plum-colored robes glanced at Harry, aware of parts of the history, of the connection between him and Sirius.
"I…" Sirius's eyes widened in pain.
"You need only answer: understood, or not understood," Amelia Bones said sharply.
"…Understood."
Amelia Bones adjusted her monocle and glanced down at her papers. "Tell us about the evening of October 31, 1981. No, the entire day—what did you do?"
"I…" Sirius furrowed his brow. "I woke up in my safe house, took care of some errands, and then stopped by the Longbottoms' place."
"Which safe house?" Amelia Bones asked.
"My own," Sirius replied. "Rented from… Muggles. I added my own protective spells."
"Why did you go to the Longbottoms'?"
Sirius hesitated.
At that moment, Dumbledore rose from his chair. "I sent him," he said calmly. "I'd received intelligence that Voldemort might personally target wizards who had repeatedly escaped him. I made a list, and it included the Longbottoms and the Potters."
A member of the Wizengamot gasped. "Albus, was Black a member of the Order of the Phoenix?"
"He was," Dumbledore said softly.
The wizards' gazes toward Sirius shifted. The hatred and disgust in their eyes softened, replaced by curiosity.
"You visited the Longbottoms. Then what?" Amelia Bones pressed.
"I ate lunch there," Sirius recalled. "Then I got word that the Dark Mark had appeared over old Clement's house. By the time Frank and I arrived, all we found was Clement's body." A stifled gasp rippled through the crowd. "Frank contacted the Ministry, and I left alone, riding my motorbike around the streets."
Another murmur spread through the room.
"Frank, old Clement," Amelia Bones repeated. "They're either gone or unable to testify, but the Ministry will verify whether this occurred." She scribbled a quick note on a piece of parchment and handed it to an aide, who promptly left the room.
"Why did you leave so quickly? Did you have other business?"
"No, I was just in a bad mood," Sirius said.
"What's your opinion of the Ministry?"
"Does that matter to the trial?"
Amelia Bones didn't respond, only fixed Sirius with a steady stare.
"Fine," Sirius said with a wry grin. "I don't think much of you lot." His words sparked an immediate outcry; the wizards in attendance seemed incensed by his defiance.
"Silence," Amelia Bones commanded, her voice carrying authority. The clamor in Courtroom Ten faded. "Black," she said coldly, "you're not the only one who believes they've made sacrifices. The Ministry paid a steep price to end the war as well."
"I know," Sirius said, his tone growing more serious. "I fought alongside some of you. But I also know Voldemort had his claws in the Ministry. I warned Frank not to get too cozy with your people."
An uncomfortable silence fell. Many recalled the fate of the Longbottoms—how Barty Crouch's son, later exposed as a hidden Death Eater, had led a group of Death Eaters to their home, torturing them for information on Voldemort's whereabouts. The war had been over by then, with only the task of rounding up stragglers remaining, and everyone had let their guard down.
"You rode your motorbike around. Where did you go next?" Amelia Bones asked.
A surge of intense hatred flashed across Sirius's face.
"I went to where Peter Pettigrew was hiding."
"What?" Amelia Bones asked, startled. She glanced at the documents in front of her. "Are you certain you're not lying? You didn't—you saw Peter Pettigrew twice that day?"
The dimly lit room buzzed with whispers again. According to Sirius's account, there was no reason for him to commit murder in the street.
"Only once," Sirius said, his voice heavy with pain. "His place was empty—no signs of a struggle. I knew something was wrong. Panic set in, and I rushed to James's house. When I got to their place in Godric's Hollow, the house was in ruins. All I saw… were their bodies."
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