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"That's it?" Anthony asked, gesturing toward the small door through which Peter and the Aurors had disappeared. "Will the relatives of the Muggle victims ever know the truth? How did Peter Pettigrew communicate with Voldemort? Did he know any other followers of Voldemort?"
Professor Burbage sorted through the files in her bag without looking up. "That's pretty much it. All the Minister needed was to hear Pettigrew confess that he was the real culprit and confirm that Mr. Crouch sent the wrong person to prison all those years ago."
"But there are so many other things…" Anthony said.
"The Dark Lord is dead," a passing Wizengamot member interjected hoarsely in a low voice. Professor Burbage looked up and nodded at him with a smile.
The member in crimson robes nodded back, completely indifferent to Anthony and Professor Burbage's less-than-respectful discussion of Fudge. He continued, "The Dark Lord is dead. The Death Eaters from the past are either already in Azkaban or are close friends of the Minister. For some, what's more important is to finalize the punishment as soon as possible and arrange for reporters to write the story…"
Anthony glanced around worriedly and saw Fudge speaking seriously to Umbridge with his head bowed, too preoccupied to notice their small conversation. Dumbledore was talking to Madam Bones but still caught Anthony's gaze and looked over sharply.
"Madam Bones will arrange another interrogation before the Dementor's Kiss is carried out," another person Anthony didn't know chimed in. "By the way, Charity, Madam Bones has finished reviewing the files on the Muggle victims you submitted last week. However, the records from back then aren't very complete, and many of the Obliviators who worked at the Ministry at the time have retired or passed away. We might not be able to find all the surviving witnesses and relatives of the victims."
"I know, but we need to do our best to make amends…" Professor Burbage said, her gaze drifting downward. "Minerva is waving at us, Henry. I think we should go." She shook hands with the other two. "We'll see each other again soon."
…
As Anthony descended the steps, he noticed that Sirius seemed to have exhausted all his energy. He couldn't even stand and was leaning back in his chair. Professor McGonagall had transfigured the patterned chair into a makeshift wheelchair, and Lupin stood behind it, holding the handles.
"The Veritaserum seems to have worn off," Sirius said hoarsely. "Ask me something, Remus."
Just then, several people approached, hesitantly trying to lift Sirius.
Anthony asked in surprise, "Are you still taking Mr. Black back to Azkaban in this condition?"
He recognized the leader as the head of the investigation team who had been determined to send him back to Azkaban during the Hogwarts troll incident.
The man clearly recognized Anthony too and looked somewhat embarrassed. "No, Madam Umbridge wants us to take Mr. Black to the best ward at St. Mungo's and arrange a thorough check-up and careful care for him."
"I don't need any check-up," Sirius said coldly. "I feel perfectly fine—better than I have in eleven years."
"You really do need a check-up and rest, Sirius," Professor McGonagall said.
"Why don't you come with me to see Madam Pomfrey, Sirius?" Lupin suggested. "I happen to need to pick up some potions from her today." He looked at Professor McGonagall. "Minerva, can you approve Sirius's application to enter the school?"
"No problem," Professor McGonagall said decisively. "Please inform Madam Umbridge that Sirius will receive a thorough examination at Hogwarts' hospital wing."
She stared unyieldingly at the group, and Professor Burbage stood beside her. The men backed down. The leader nodded at Professor McGonagall and hurried away, looking as though he hadn't been keen on carrying out Umbridge's orders in the first place.
Lupin asked, "What do you say, Sirius? Madam Pomfrey?"
Sirius paused, and a genuine smile slowly spread across his face.
"Of course," he said in a nostalgic tone. "As long as she doesn't say I'm disturbing your rest and kick me out."
Lupin gripped the wheelchair handles. "Trust me, you look like you need rest more than I do. Besides, the Veritaserum has definitely worn off, Sirius. 'I don't need any check-up' is a complete lie."
…
They slowly made their way out the door.
Professors Sprout, Flitwick, and Snape were waiting outside. Several Wizengamot members hurried past them, bags slung over their shoulders.
Professor Sprout only needed to meet Professor McGonagall's eyes before breaking into a smile. "Well done, Minerva, Charity."
"Oh, I didn't really do much," Professor McGonagall said, glancing at Professors Flitwick and Snape before confirming, "The Dementor's Kiss."
Snape gave an almost imperceptible nod. He looked toward the interrogation room, met Lupin's gaze behind Professor McGonagall, and then looked down at Sirius leaning back in the wheelchair.
"Oh," Snape said, his eyes narrowing in disgust. "Did you break your legs from overexcitement, Black?"
Sirius turned his head and asked casually, "Dumbledore's Transfiguration is really good. Do you want to try this chair, Remus?" He turned back, as if seeing Snape for the first time, and put on a surprised expression, opening his mouth to say something—Snape's lips were already curling into a sneer—
"No, thank you, Sirius," Lupin interrupted firmly, with a hint of weariness. "Not again… You need to rest now."
Professor McGonagall added, "Please, Severus!"
Professor Sprout deliberately struck up a conversation with Snape about the fifth-year students. Snape turned to her and began discussing the connection between Herbology and Potions.
Led by Professors McGonagall and Burbage, the group headed toward the stairs. Sirius sat in the wheelchair, floating unsteadily above the stairs under Lupin and Professor Flitwick's Levitation Charms, looking up at the rough stone bricks overhead or examining the dim torches on either side.
"How does it feel, Sirius?" Lupin asked.
"Like a king!" Sirius replied, his legs stretched out comfortably, swaying gently with the chair's movements. The hollows of his cheeks and eye sockets were starkly visible in the flickering torchlight and shadows, making him look almost skeletal.
Anthony walked at the back of the group and glanced behind him. Dumbledore still hadn't left the interrogation room, likely still speaking with Madam Bones.
…
As the elevator creaked upward, Sirius slowly stood up with Lupin's arm and shoulder for support (Snape didn't bother hiding his look of disappointment). By the time they reached the first floor and the iron gates clattered open, the transfigured wheelchair had vanished, and Sirius stepped steadily out of the elevator.
If the sight of a group of professors at the Ministry had already piqued the curiosity of the staff, seeing them leave the Ministry laughing and chatting with a man with tangled hair and gaunt cheeks made people even more curious about what had happened.
Before leaving, Anthony overheard most of the people behind him speculating about who the "tramp" was. However, he also heard a few people suggest that Sirius was a rock star who would perform with the Weird Sisters at Hogwarts' Christmas party.
Sirius seemed completely indifferent to the stares, striding confidently out of the Ministry.
Once outside, Anthony realized how gloomy the weather was. Dark clouds hung over London, and a chilly wind whipped past them, pressing their robes tightly against their backs. Even though it was only two or three in the afternoon, the streets were incredibly dark. A few dry leaves blew from the corner of the street into the empty road, their stiff tips scraping roughly against the pavement before a sudden gust of wind swept them away.
Professor Sprout looked up worriedly. "I hope it's not raining at Hogwarts, or the Mandrakes won't be very happy."
Professor McGonagall frowned as well.
"Sirius?" Lupin asked. "What are you doing?"
Sirius stood in the biting cold wind, looking up at the gray, dusty sky.
"Lovely weather," he said.
…
Since Sirius could only reclaim his wand from the Ministry after his innocence was officially declared in the official documents, he couldn't Apparate on his own for now. On the other hand, no one wanted to be scolded by Madam Pomfrey, so they all dismissed Sirius's suggestion of taking the Knight Bus.
"I want my motorcycle," Sirius complained, his hair flying wildly in the wind.
Snape snorted.
The cold wind blowing against his face seemed to put Sirius in such a good mood that he could even ignore Snape. "Is Hagrid still at Hogwarts? My bike should be with him."
"He is," Professor McGonagall said, pushing Sirius forward insistently. "Keep moving."
Sirius asked, "Where are we going?"
Professor McGonagall glanced at Anthony.
"Diagon Alley or the train station," Anthony said, understanding her meaning and mentally reviewing the transportation methods he'd tried during his practical training. "In other words, the Floo Network or a very, very long Muggle transportation method—by the way, you'll need to buy tickets."
Professor Burbage agreed. "I'll supervise each of you."
"If you'll excuse me," Snape said coldly. "I don't have all day to waste on this… affair. By all means, enjoy your leisurely journey." His expression was as gloomy as the weather, as if the thought of Sirius appearing at Hogwarts made him uncomfortable. "If you don't mind, I'll take my leave."
He nodded to the professors (skillfully avoiding Lupin and Sirius) and spun on the spot.
With a pop, he disappeared.
"Ah, the air is much fresher now," Sirius said, grinning as he leaned on Lupin's shoulder. He seemed to be losing strength again.
…
It was indeed raining near Hogwarts.
They stepped out of the fireplace at Honeydukes ("Would you like another box of Coconut Ice, Professor Anthony?") and saw rain pelting against the glass windows painted with honey jars and candy shapes. The sky was so dark it was hard to tell whether it was day or night. The rug at the entrance of Honeydukes was soaked with water, making a squelching sound when stepped on. Rainwater flowed like small streams over the stone paths, and people huddled under every eave in Hogsmeade to avoid the downpour.
Professor McGonagall conjured raincoats for them. Professor Sprout quickly grabbed one and strode into the rain to tend to her Mandrakes. Since Lupin couldn't persuade Sirius to stay put, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick stayed with Sirius, leaving Anthony and Lupin walking side by side.
On the way back to Hogwarts, the rain grew heavier. Sirius tried to convince the others to let him go to Hagrid's hut to ask about his motorcycle ("It's not much farther!"), but Lupin told Professor McGonagall to ignore him, gently pointing out that Sirius was just afraid to return to Hogwarts.
Anthony twisted the hem of his robe, squeezing out a stream of water that dripped onto the muddy ground. He and Lupin exchanged a look and smiled. Somehow, even though he didn't know Lupin well, Anthony felt as though he'd known him for a long time. From Lupin's smile, he could tell Lupin felt the same way.
"By the way, Professor Anthony," Lupin said softly, "if possible, please keep it a secret for me."
Anthony was still staring at his robe, questioning the necessity of the raincoat, and didn't react immediately. "Keep what a secret?"
Lupin prompted, "The werewolf."
"What? Oh, of course, no problem," Anthony said.
"Thank you," Lupin said, shrugging. "It'll make finding a job a little easier. You know, I just lost one."
Anthony empathized. "It's so hard to find a suitable job that doesn't do background checks… Speaking of which, Mr. Lupin, could you also keep a secret for me?"
Lupin smiled. "Of course, Professor Anthony. But hasn't Professor Dumbledore already vouched for you? You don't need to worry so much." He added somewhat helplessly, "For many employers, they'd rather have Voldemort than a werewolf. Inferi might be uncommon—"
"Oh, no, not that," Anthony said. "That really wasn't an Inferius… It was just a corpse. I'm a necromancer."
Lupin repeated, confused, "A necromancer?" Then, as if finally recalling the foxes and rats, his eyes widened slightly. "Oh."
"A wizard who uses necromancy," Anthony said, also puzzled. "The Aurors recognized it almost immediately… Ah, right, they saw skeletons and wraiths, not corpses."
"I know what a necromancer is…" Lupin said.
"But?"
"But doesn't magical history say that necromancers—sorry—went extinct long ago?"
Just then, they heard a burst of cheers. Anthony realized they had reached Hagrid's hut, and from here, they could see the Quidditch pitch.
In the pouring rain, a boy in red robes circled in the air on a broomstick, holding his right hand high. In his hand was a flash of gold.
He jumped off his broom and was immediately hugged by his teammates, who had also dismounted. Their figures obscured his—Anthony could imagine them slapping his shoulders and back, ruffling his wet, messy hair, revealing the lightning-shaped scar beneath. A red-haired boy was excitedly waving his fists and jumping around, while a brown-haired girl clapped vigorously.
Professor McGonagall's expression softened slightly.
"Harry…" Sirius murmured, his gaze fixed on the bright red robes. "Harry."
Exhausted. If I'm not satisfied after waking up, I might revise—but the plot is pretty much like this!
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