No one was particularly energetic over breakfast. Sirius had obviously told the rest of the household about Harry's vision, as by the time the Gryffindor made it downstairs they were chatting quietly, and stopped as soon as Harry walked in. "Morning," Harry greeted wearily. Remus stood immediately, holding his arms out for a hug.
"Are you alright, cub?"
"Fine, now. Might go for a swim later. I'm a bit sore."
"Cruciatus?" Snape checked, and Harry nodded.
"On Rookwood. But just the once, so I didn't take a potion. I thought he was one of the ones we caught?"
"You did. He claimed to be a Ministry spy, and got himself released," Snape replied, sneering. Harry scowled.
"Spy, my arse," he muttered, sinking into his usual seat at the table. Opposite him, Charlie blinked, clearly still getting used to the whole 'Snape' situation. "Anything useful happen at your meeting?"
"Nothing of alarm," Snape replied, sipping at his coffee. Ceri floated a plate of pancakes in front of Harry, and he offered her a brief smile. "It seems Narcissa grew tired of hosting — she put the Manor on lockdown, ejected everyone except herself and Draco. As you can imagine, the Dark Lord is… not pleased. Bellatrix suffered most severely for not noticing her sister's disloyalty."
Harry went wide-eyed, though he couldn't bring himself to feel bad about Bellatrix being punished. "Narcissa can do that? And it'll keep them all out?"
"It appears so. Likely she had Draco assist her; he is the new Lord of the Manor, after all, even though he is a year shy of majority."
"That's my girl," Sirius cheered, grinning. "Turned them all out on their arses."
It was a relief, knowing that Draco no longer had Voldemort in his house, but such a bold move made Harry uneasy. "He won't take that lying down," he murmured grimly. Snape's dark eyes met his, surprisingly confident.
"Trust that Narcissa has been planning her actions for a long time, now. She will not take unnecessary risks."
Harry hoped he was right.
"Cheer up, pup," Sirius crowed, "if it gets dire, they'll just move in here; old Snake-Face would never find them then." He winked playfully. "You'll get your boyfriend back earlier than you thought."
Rolling his eyes, Harry threw a blueberry at him. It would be nice to have Draco around, sure, but not at the expense of Voldemort wanting him dead!
"I suppose no one's going to duel with me today, then?" he sighed, reaching for the jug of orange juice. "Since you all seem to think I need rest or something." As if to reinforce the point, a huge yawn escaped him, and Remus snorted. "Shut up, Moony," Harry grumbled weakly.
"You're taking it easy today, kid. We've got an Order meeting back at Grimmauld this evening, anyway."
Harry smirked at Sirius' words. "You're leaving me behind for that, yeah? Dumbledore wants to talk to me; he was trying to get hold of me at school but I dodged him, and before I got the train home he said he'd see me at headquarters."
"Then you're definitely not going," Sirius agreed.
"On that note, I've got dragons to see," Charlie declared, pushing back from the table. As he stood, he ducked to kiss Sirius' cheek. "I'll see you all at the meeting. And you after, I suppose," he added to Harry. His gaze swept the table, pausing awkwardly on Snape, who stared back impassively. Then Charlie coughed, and headed for the door.
"Have fun," Sirius called after him. When they heard the front door shut, Remus elbowed Snape gently.
"You could at least try and be less intimidating."
"Why bother?" Snape drawled in reply.
Harry ducked his head to hide his smile in a mouthful of pancake.
It was good to be home.
.-.-.
Sirius was the first to arrive at Grimmauld Place ahead of the Order meeting; Remus was reading, and promised to follow shortly. The animagus half expected to find Molly Weasley banging around his kitchen, until he remembered delightedly that he'd banned her from the wards. His brain drifted happily back to the events of that morning — or, more specifically, what had happened after Molly had left — but he was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of apparition in the hallway.
"It's only me!" Tonks called brightly, then appeared in the kitchen doorway. She seemed to delight in being as loud as possible, now there was no painting of Walburga Black to yell at her for it. "Blimey, I'm that early?"
"Looks like," Sirius agreed, snorting when she went straight to the pantry and returned with a bottle of butterbeer and a small pork pie. "Skipped lunch?"
"Had to," she said with a scowl. "Ministry's a bloody disaster. We've got too many Death Eaters to process — they're trying to delay Pettigrew's interrogation, like we might just forget and leave you on the run, or something."
Sirius scowled back at her. "Fucking aurors."
"Tell me about it."
They were interrupted by the fire flaring green, and Bill Weasley stepped out, closely followed by Fleur Delacour. She was a recent addition to the Order, but Sirius liked her already. Namely because she too held Harry's opinions much higher than Dumbledore's.
One after another, the members of the Order of the Phoenix arrived, filling the kitchen. Charlie slipped in behind Mundungus Fletcher, and Sirius waved him over, a seat saved beside him. It garnered some looks — especially when Charlie kissed him on the cheek — but Sirius didn't give a fuck; everyone he cared about knew, they weren't hiding their relationship anymore.
Only after the room was full did Albus Dumbledore arrive through the fire, and the quiet whispers stopped immediately like a bunch of naughty school children. "Good, you're all here," he greeted, then frowned slightly. "Sirius, must you continue to hold this grudge against Molly? She should be able to attend meetings at the very least."
"Not until she learns to respect me in my own damn house, Albus," Sirius replied evenly. That earned him a disappointed frown, but nothing further was said.
Dumbledore launched into an update on Ministry proceedings, stating that a new Minister would be chosen by the end of the week. "It is a relief that Lucius Malfoy is not there to throw his own hat in the ring, but that does not mean Voldemort's men are absent from the process. I am trying to guide it the best I can."
Sirius hid a scowl; oh, he bet that was true. Dumbledore would be guiding them towards whichever puppet he could control the easiest.
The only good part of the headmaster's report was the confirmation that Dolores Umbridge was going to Azkaban for her crimes against the students of Hogwarts.
"Good riddance," Moody snarled, and for once Sirius agreed with him.
"Quite," Dumbledore said. "Though it does leave me once again on the search for a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"Do you have anyone in mind?" Hestia Jones asked. An infuriating smile crossed Dumbledore's lips.
"I believe I have an idea," he assured. "I merely need to make some inquiries."
He continued droning on, and the longer he spoke the less patience Sirius had for it. "I'm surprised you've not mentioned anything about the attack on Amelia Bones, Albus," he cut in. Several people gasped.
"Attack? What attack?" Arthur Weasley asked, wide-eyed.
"Voldemort himself decided to go after her," Sirius revealed. "Last night. Luckily, Harry had a vision, and we managed to get word out just in time. Amelia and Susan are both fine."
"Amelia did mention getting early warning," Kingsley said, approval in his eyes. "Said she was damned lucky for it, too. Much later and things would have been… disastrous."
Several people around the table looked uneasy; a Ministry without Amelia Bones was a much weaker institution indeed.
"Harry is still having visions, then?" Dumbledore pressed, blue eyes curious. Sirius felt the faintest pressure on his Occlumency shields, and scowled.
"He is. Not every night, but far more often than I'd like," he remarked.
"I'll be honest, I quite expected to find him down here," Dumbledore said. "Last summer I understand he was quite insistent on being involved with the Order. I can't see that having changed, after the events of last month. I would like to speak to him after the meeting, actually."
"You can't, I left him at home," Sirius said blandly. Dumbledore froze.
"…He is not living here?"
"What do you mean, home?" Hestia Jones piped up.
"He's not back with those awful muggles, is he?" Arthur asked in alarm.
"Of course not!" Sirius protested, offended that anyone would even consider he might have left Harry with them. "He's at home. Our home. Which is the safest place he could possibly be."
"Sirius…" And there was Dumbledore's disapproving frown once again. "I must insist you bring him here at once; Voldemort will be looking for him, and it is imperative Harry be safe."
"He is safe," Sirius repeated. "Much safer with only a small handful of people knowing where he is. Forgive me, Albus, but after everything that happened last summer, I'm not going to let you just toss Harry around wherever is most convenient for you. He's at home, and he'll be staying there all summer."
"Do you mean you're not living here, either, Black?" Moody barked. "You're supposed to be our point of contact. Keeping Headquarters protected."
"Which goes to prove my point exactly; if I need to be here at all times to protect this place, I wouldn't consider that safe, would you?" Sirius retorted. "As long as the Fidelius holds here, it'll be safe for meetings. But there's far too many people coming and going for me to be sure Harry will be alright. And quite frankly, it's none of your damn business where I house my godson."
"You are not his legal guardian, Sirius," Dumbledore reminded.
"Not yet, but I will be as soon as I'm free." And Sirius wondered how much of the stalling around Pettigrew was secretly Dumbledore's doing, trying to avoid Sirius getting free and reclaiming his proper place in society.
"I need to speak with Harry," Dumbledore said again. Sirius stared him down coolly.
"I'll let him know, and if he wants to meet with you, we can arrange something," he replied. "Until then, I thought the whole point of the Order was that Harry doesn't need to be involved. You lot all spent last year telling me he was too young and had to be protected, now you're angry at me for doing exactly that!"
"If you show me this home of yours, so I can see those protections for myself—"
"No," Sirius cut the headmaster off bluntly. "I'm allowing you the use of my family house for the Order, Albus, but you've got no right to my private home."
Across the table, he caught the look of warning in Remus' eyes — they didn't want to show their hand too early. But there was no way Sirius was allowing Dumbledore anywhere near Seren Du.
"Harry is fine where he is, Albus," Remus said calmly. "I can attest to that myself. Perhaps we should get back to the matter at hand? Is there anything we can do to help secure the Ministry?"
Kingsley took the topic and ran with it, launching into his own report on the traitors within the auror department, and how things were going in the muggle Prime Minister's office where he was currently stationed. Sirius leaned back in his chair, knee pressed against Charlie's under the table. When he looked up, Dumbledore was still frowning at him. Sirius resisted the urge to smirk.
There were more members of the Order on Harry's side than Dumbledore's, at this point. The headmaster had best watch his step.
.-.-.-.
"What!" The outraged yelp that burst from Harry's lips startled Remus into spilling his tea, and Charlie's egg fell off his fork.
"What's the matter?" the redhead asked worriedly. Harry scowled, turning the front page of the morning paper for the rest of the table to see.
Rufus Scrimgeour Named Minister For Magic
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Sirius groaned, shaking his head. "They chose that prick?"
"Who is he?"
"He was the Head Auror," Snape drawled, voice distinctly unimpressed. "He is cut much from the same cloth as Alastor Moody. A… traditional approach to eradicating Dark magic."
Harry looked down at the article, reading quickly; indeed, there were lots of references to Scrimgeour being the 'firm hand' the country needed in these dangerous times. "So he'll curse first and ask questions later, basically?"
"And anything worse than a Tickling charm will have him calling someone a Death Eater," Remus agreed, frowning. "I understand people are looking for someone a bit more… proactive, after Fudge. But really, with how corrupt the Auror Office is already, putting the head of it in charge of the whole bloody Ministry hardly seems like a good idea."
"That would require them to admit the Auror Office is corrupt," Snape pointed out.
"What's all this stuff about Scrimgeour having a rift with Dumbledore?" Harry asked, gesturing back at the paper. Sirius snorted.
"Oh, that's a load of codswallop. Scrimgeour's too prideful a man to bow to Dumbledore's whims, so he pretends they hate each other but sucks up every scrap of advice the man hands out regardless."
"Mentioning there's bad blood between them is probably to placate all those people who have decided they hate Dumbledore because the Prophet's spent the last year telling them to hate Dumbledore," Charlie agreed. "They're just covering their own arses."
Well, Harry was all for people hating Dumbledore, but this Scrimgeour bloke didn't look any better. "I thought for sure Amelia would get it," he sighed. Remus pat him on the shoulder.
"She's the most qualified for the position," he agreed. "But she's far too progressive. And competent. There's a reason Voldemort tried to kill her himself. Between him and Dumbledore sticking their wands in, there was no way she'd get the job."
He was right, but it didn't make the news any easier to swallow. Susan was going to be furious.
"We'll just have to make sure Amelia lives to the end of the war, when we can have an actual, proper vote," he muttered to himself.
"That's the spirit, pup," Sirius enthused. "And here, this'll cheer you up." He waved a letter in his hand, grinning broadly. "It's from Amelia. My trial is set for three days time; the first Wizengamot meeting of the summer."
Harry's head snapped up, a beaming smile stretching across his face. Soon, Sirius would be free!
.-.-.
With the trial in the books, it felt like the whole house had been hit with a sense of urgency. Sirius could hardly sit still, bouncing wildly between exuberant joy at his impending freedom and intense melancholy at the prospect of Dumbledore interfering and getting him locked up again. The rest of them tried their best to ease him out of those down swings, though Charlie seemed to be the only one with any real success.
Harry, meanwhile, was writing frantically back and forth with Susan and her aunt, making sure their case for the trial was as air-tight as possible.
Anything to stop him from worrying about Draco.
He hadn't heard anything from the Malfoys since Snape had told them Narcissa locked down the Manor; any letters with Hedwig came back unanswered, and Harry hadn't had the chance to give Draco the other mirror before they left school. The uncertainty gnawed at his gut, filling his head with all sorts of horrible scenarios whenever he took a moment to breathe.
It would have been in the papers if they were dead, he kept telling himself, but it wasn't as reassuring as he'd hoped.
But with Sirius so stressed about his upcoming trial, Harry didn't want to add more of a burden to his shoulders, or anyone else's. So, when the worry became too much, Harry grabbed his Firebolt and headed outside.
It felt glorious to be back in the air. Umbridge might have only banned him from quidditch for a couple of months, but he'd still missed flying intensely. He let his practice snitch go, doing laps of the half-pitch while it fluttered around. But even flying couldn't entirely rid him of the anxiety bubbling in his gut, the tiny voice in the back of his head insisting that Draco was in danger.
He turned, intending to dive for the snitch, only to come up short at the sight of a redhead zooming towards it.
Charlie plucked the snitch from the air, offering Harry a gentle smile. There was worry in his eyes nonetheless. "Best two out of three?" he suggested lightly.
"That one doesn't count," Harry insisted, and Charlie laughed.
"Yeah, okay, fair."
He released the snitch, and the pair of them circled for a count of fifteen, then shot off.
It was easier to focus, with the distraction of playing against another person. By the time they'd played five rounds — four of which had gone to Harry — he had something of a smile on his face.
"Feel better?" Charlie asked, drifting up beside him. Harry let out a long breath, pocketing the snitch once it was securely in its box.
"A little." Harry tipped his face into the breeze, wishing it would blow away his troubles along with it. "I just… I had another letter come back from Draco, this morning. Unanswered."
"Malfoy Manor's war wards are likely to deflect any form of contact," Charlie pointed out. "Just in case. I'm sure he's fine."
"But what if he's not," Harry argued. "What if the wards failed and Voldemort got him!"
"Snape's been Called twice since Mrs Malfoy kicked the Death Eaters out." Charlie's voice was frustratingly calm. "You really think You-Know-Who wouldn't brag to all of them if he'd captured the Malfoys?"
He had a point, and it eased Harry's worry just a little. "I just need to know he's okay." It had been hard enough saying goodbye on the train, knowing the death of his father still weighed heavily on Draco's mind.
"I'm sure you'll hear from him soon," Charlie assured. "Once it's safe. From what Sirius tells me, he's probably just as worried about you in return."
"What has Sirius told you?" Harry asked with raised eyebrows, wondering how much his godfather had been gossiping about him. Charlie blushed faintly.
"Not much," he said quickly. "Just that Draco's a good kid, considering his father. And that Narcissa's probably got the wedding colours picked out already," he added teasingly, and it was Harry's turn to blush.
He couldn't even deny that. Narcissa had probably picked them out months ago.
"Have you tried sending a letter with Ceri?" Charlie asked. Harry nodded morosely; the Malfoy wards even kept elves out. "Damn. Well. Have you asked Sirius for ideas? Narcissa's his cousin, he might know something."
"He's got enough to worry about, with the trial," Harry insisted, shaking his head. For some reason, that made Charlie smile.
"Like he wouldn't drop it all for you in a heartbeat," the redhead retorted. "He's worried about you, Harry. He… I've tried telling him there's too much evidence to have him locked away again. And even if the worse does happen, we won't let Dumbledore get his hands on you. But in all his fears about the trial, none of it is about going back to Azkaban for himself. He's just terrified of leaving you."
Harry's heart twisted painfully. "He still doesn't need to be worrying about Draco on top of all that. After the trial, I'll ask him." There was little point doing anything now, anyway; the trial was tomorrow.
"If you're sure," Charlie said, shrugging.
They drifted together, doing lazy loops around the pitch. "He's scared of leaving you, too, y'know," Harry said abruptly. Charlie raised an eyebrow.
"Pardon?"
"Sirius. He might not say it to you, but I've seen the way he watches you lately." Like Charlie might disappear if he looked away. The same way he watched Harry. "He's scared he might lose you, through this trial."
"He'll have to try harder than that, to shake me," Charlie challenged, smirking. "I'm not worried, Harry, and you shouldn't be either. The evidence is solid. Amelia's got it all under control. Sirius will get free."
Harry wished he could have that sort of confidence.
"The twins have asked me to bring you both round to the shop, after the trial," Charlie continued. "Said something about you needing to inspect your investment." He raised an amused eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"
Harry told him about giving the twins his Triwizard winnings, and Charlie burst out laughing.
"Merlin, Harry! Never tell Mum, she'll kill you." His smile faltered at that, turning sad.
"Have you… spoken to her, since, y'know?" Harry didn't know the exact details, but he knew Mrs Weasley had blown up when she found out about Charlie and Sirius.
"I tried," Charlie said. "Went over to the house, tried to chat with her. Just ended in an argument. Mum… I know George has told you she's never really agreed with our sexuality. And I know she's gotten at you for it a few times." Harry scowled, nodding. "I think maybe she might've come round if it had been anyone other than Sirius. Some nice Romanian bloke, or maybe a good Gryffindor lad my own age. But… she never liked Sirius, regardless. I think because he was a threat to her — with him around, her and Dad were no longer the only parental figures in your life. And he was just so unashamedly himself, unapologetic about everything, she couldn't bear to see it." He grinned, winking at Harry. "I'll confess that's half the reason I started flirting with him, to start with. Just to piss Mum off, if she ever noticed it." He ran a hand through his hair. "Didn't expect to fall arse over teakettle for the bloke."
"He grows on you," Harry agreed fondly. Charlie laughed.
"Doesn't he just." He shook his head, affectionate smile still curling his lips. "Mum will either come around, or she won't. But Dad and the rest of the family don't care. And I've got the approval of you and Remus, so that's the only opinions Sirius gives a shit about. Far as the rest are concerned, he'll probably enjoy the outrage of it all."
Harry snorted; that sounded like Sirius. "I hope you know what you're getting in for, once he's free," he mock-warned. "He'll be dragging you out all over the place, wanting to show off his pretty bit of arm candy."
Charlie laughed again, smirking deviously. "Fine by me," he drawled. "I can do arm candy. It's likely to be more seedy bars than fancy restaurants, anyway; he knows it takes persuasion to get me into formalwear."
"Ew," Harry mock-groaned, making Charlie snicker.
"Get used to it, little brother; I live here now," Charlie teased, swooping in close to ruffle Harry's hair. Harry ducked away, scowling.
"Can you really call me little brother when you're dating my godfather?" he joked, wiggling his eyebrows. "I think it's closer to step-son, if you look at it like that."
"Only when we're married," Charlie shot back automatically, then blushed at the intent look Harry gave him.
"When, is it?" he asked pointedly.
"Don't be a brat, son," Charlie retorted. Then he paused, making a face of disgust and shaking his head. "Nope, that's weird. I'm too young for that."
Harry snickered. "Get used to it, Dad, you live here now," he taunted, quickly dodging as Charlie started to chase him.
"You don't need another dad, you've got two of them in that house," the redhead pointed out dryly. "Three if you count Snape." He slowed down, and a shudder ran through him. "That's still the weirdest part of this whole situation."
"You get used to it eventually," Harry assured. "Give it enough time and you'll catch him having a genuine emotion. After that it's a bit hard to take all the scowling seriously. Not to mention the flirting, ugh, they're awful when they get going."
"Too weird," Charlie insisted. "You've just been living here too long. Can't believe they hid you right under Dumbledore's nose."
"He's not as omniscient as he thinks," Harry said, a little smug.
"I'm starting to realise that," Charlie agreed.
They were pulled out of their half-hearted chasing when the bell rang to summon them for lunch, and the pair landed quickly, shouldering their brooms. "Hey," Charlie called, reaching out one huge arm to wrap around Harry's shoulders. "I'm sure Draco's doing fine, yeah? Once Sirius is free, we'll figure out a way for you to write to him. Or bring him here." He grinned, cheeks dimpling. "I've got a lot of brotherly teasing to catch up on, after all."
"We've heard it all from the twins already," Harry told him, unbothered. "And Ginny."
"The twins have got nothing on me," Charlie insisted, seemingly delighted by the challenge. "You'll see."
Harry wondered if he should be nervous, but the feeling didn't last; he was too swept up in Charlie's unbridled optimism.
.-.-.-.
Harry sat with his hands on his knees, green eyes carefully surveying the group of wizard and witches sat opposite him.
The trial of Sirius Black was about to begin.
The Wizengamot looked incredibly imposing, sat in their identical deep plum robes. Even the familiar faces within the mix couldn't calm Harry's nerves. Not when Albus Dumbledore sat there, looking entirely too happy for Harry's liking.
"The Wizengamot calls the defendant; Sirius Orion Black."
The side door to the courtroom opened, and Sirius was marched in between two aurors. Unfortunately, they weren't aurors Harry knew — Tonks had been recused due to familial connections, and Kingsley was on Wizengamot duty. Still, Sirius kept his head high, and offered Harry a reassuring smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. He was forced into a chair in the centre of the room, and when one of the aurors tapped it with her wand, chains sprung up and wrapped around his arms and legs. Sirius didn't flinch. Minister Scrimgeour cleared his throat, but before he could speak again, the main door slammed open. Harry's breath caught in his throat.
Narcissa Malfoy strolled in, looking for all the world like she owned the place, wearing perfectly tailored charcoal robes. "Humble Wizengamot," she called in greeting, grey eyes flashing. "Following the death of my husband, Lord Lucius Malfoy — I, Lady Narcissa Malfoy, claim his right of proxy guardianship over the houses of Malfoy, Burke, Lestrange, Rosier, Rowle, Travers, Yaxley and Mulciber, until such time as their rightful heir can claim them."
Before Scrimgeour or anyone else could say anything, there was a hum of magic, and the empty seats of the eight houses she'd listed glowed briefly.
The Wizengamot magic had confirmed her position. To show it, her robes transfigured immediately into the same plum robes that the rest wore.
Scrimgeour cleared his throat. "Very well, then, Lady Malfoy. Please, take your seat so we may begin."
Narcissa gracefully swept towards the Malfoy seat, catching Harry's eye on the way. She looked incredibly pleased.
Dumbledore, too, looked quietly delighted by the proceedings; likely he thought Narcissa would vote against her cousin's freedom out of spite.
He had another thing coming.
Scrimgeour paused, as if expecting some other surprise, and then slammed his gavel down, bringing the court to order. Beside him, Percy Weasley was poised to make notes.
"We are gathered here on this day, July seventh, nineteen ninety-six, to conduct the trial of Sirius Orion Black," he announced. "Black, who was previously sentenced to life in Azkaban for the crime of fourteen counts of murder, and breaking the statute of secrecy, and who escaped Azkaban in July of nineteen ninety-three." Scrimgeour turned to Sirius, staring at him coldly. "Mr Black, how do you plead?"
"Not guilty," Sirius replied without hesitation. "Not of murder. I will admit I escaped prison, but I was there unlawfully to begin with."
Scrimgeour sneered. "So you claim. Madam Bones," he called, turning to the woman. Harry was glad to see here there, unharmed and keen-eyed. "I believe you have evidence for the defence."
"I do, Minister." Amelia stood, gathering a stack of parchments. "May I call the prisoner Peter Pettigrew in for questioning?"
There was a flurry of whispers through the crowd. Then Scrimgeour cleared his throat. Harry was starting to get Umbridge flashbacks. "I'm afraid, Madam Bones, that will not be possible. The man claiming to be Peter Pettigrew was found dead in his cell this morning."
The chains rattled as Sirius visibly flinched. Harry's heart sank — how could that be?
His eyes turned to Dumbledore, whose eyes were smug behind his twinkle. Harry scowled; had the headmaster done this?
Luckily, Amelia was unperturbed. "That is unfortunate," she replied. "But it is a good thing Auror Shacklebolt already provided me with a Veritaserum-confirmed transcript of Pettigrew's interrogation. If the Wizengamot would please read." She waved her wand, and parchment appeared on the desk of each member. "In the interrogation, Mr Pettigrew admits to having been the Secret Keeper for the Potter family, and also a servant of the Dark Lord. He confesses to framing Mr Black for his murder, and using his unregistered animagus form to escape, seeking refuge with a wizarding family in the guise of a pet rat."
Amelia gave everyone time to read, while Scrimgeour sat and scowled, not even looking at his papers. It was clear he'd already made his mind up.
"A fanciful story, to say the least. But as there was no magical confirmation that the man was indeed Mr Pettigrew, it cannot be taken as evidence for Mr Black's innocence."
"Not alone, which is why Mr Black has agreed to his own Veritaserum testimony in front of the Wizengamot today."
"Impossible," Scrimgeour snapped. "Black has already been found guilty once of this crime; a defendant cannot be placed under Veritaserum twice for the same confession."
"That's where you're wrong, Minister," Amelia replied, smiling pleasantly. "Mr Black has never given any form of Veritaserum testimony in front of a Wizengamot court. Indeed, Mr Black was never given any trial of any kind." A few gasps rang out from the Wizengamot crowd.
"What?" Scrimgeour's eyes narrowed. A wave of Amelia's wand, and more parchment appeared.
"You will see the arrest record for Mr Black, and his Azkaban registration," Amelia explained. "Eleven hours apart. Mr Black was never given the chance to defend himself in court, nor was the evidence ever processed. With the late Barty Crouch Sr's signature on the papers, Mr Black was taken to Azkaban without trial or due process." Her smile was dagger-sharp. "So you see, Minister, Mr Black is long overdue his testimony."
Scrimgeour was pale, now. "Indeed," he growled. "Very well; bring forward the Veritaserum."
Harry tried not to smile too widely, watching one of the aurors appear with a bottle of potion, which was tested for legitimacy with a complicated-looking spell, and then three drops were placed on Sirius' tongue. Amelia stepped forward, beginning the interrogation.
"What is your name?"
"Sirius Orion Black," Sirius responded, in that vacant tone of one under the influence of the truth-telling potion.
"What is your date of birth?"
"November 3rd, 1959."
"Are you, or have you ever been, a servant of the Dark Lord Voldemort?"
"No."
Gasps echoed through the room. Amelia continued. "Were you the Secret Keeper for Lily and James Potter?"
"No."
"Who was their Secret Keeper?"
"Peter Pettigrew."
Harry's hands curled in the fabric of his robes as he leant forward in his seat slightly.
"Please recount the events of the night of October 31st 1981, beginning with your arrival at the Potters' home."
"I arrived on my motorbike, at around nine in the evening," Sirius stated blankly. "The house was half-destroyed, and I could hear a baby crying. So I went inside, to try and find Harry. He was in his cot, with a cut on his head. I picked him up. I knew Voldemort would be after him, I had to keep him safe. When I left the house, Hagrid was there. He said that Dumbledore had sent him to retrieve Harry, to take him somewhere safe. We argued — I didn't want him taking Harry anywhere. He accused me of betraying Lily and James, and I knew that until Peter was caught, everyone would think I did. So I let him take Harry, and my motorbike, and I went to go find Peter. I caught up with him at his house, where he was packing, trying to run. I chased him out onto the street. He yelled for everyone to hear that I was the Secret Keeper, that I was the reason Lily and James were dead. Then he blew up the street, cut off his own finger and transformed into a rat. I tried to find him, but the aurors showed up."
It broke Harry's heart, hearing his godfather recount such a traumatic night in that empty, emotionless voice.
"No further questions, Minister." Amelia declared.
"I have a question," Scrimgeour growled. "You were laughing, Black; when the aurors came for you. Why?"
"It was the first time Peter had shown any sort of cunning," Sirius responded. "I was laughing because I couldn't believe he had the brains to do it. And laughing was easier than crying."
The response just made Scrimgeour scowl harder. But he waved his hand, and the antidote was given to Sirius, who blinked away the vacant stare.
"If Black was innocent the whole time, why did he break out of Azkaban to go after Potter?" Scrimgeour pointed out. That made Amelia smile.
"For that, I would like to bring Mr Harry Potter to the stand."
Harry stood up, approaching the chair Amelia gestured to.
"Objection!" Dumbledore cut in. "Mr Potter is a minor; he cannot be subject to Veritaserum."
"No potions," Amelia promised. "Just questions. Mr Potter, do you consent?"
"I consent," Harry confirmed.
"Excellent. Have a seat." Harry sat. "Mr Potter, please recount to the court the events of the night of June 27th, 1993, to the best of your knowledge."
Harry had prepared for this. He was ready. In a clear, steady voice, he explained what had happened the night Sirius dragged Hermione to the Shrieking Shack.
He glossed over some of the details; the Marauder's Map, some of the exact things said, the extent of Snape's involvement. But the important parts were there; namely, Sirius' confession of innocence, and Pettigrew's admission of guilt.
"In all the chaos of Professor Lupin transforming, Pettigrew got away," Harry explained. "Professor Snape got knocked out trying to protect us. Sirius and I ran to the lake, for safety, but the dementors came. I cast a Patronus to keep them at bay, and then I passed out."
"A Patronus, able to keep a hundred dementors at bay, at the age of thirteen?" Scrimgeour blustered. "Preposterous!"
"Minister, if I may." It was Madam Marchbanks, raising her hand. "I saw Mr Potter perform a Patronus myself, in his recent OWL examinations. It certainly had the strength for such a task, and I fully believe his story."
Scrimgeour didn't like that, as an impressed wave of whispers scattered through the room. "I can perform the spell right now, if you'd like," Harry offered, but Scrimgeour scowled at him
"Underage magic will not be necessary," he snapped.
"I have a few further questions for Mr Potter, if I may?" Amelia continued, making Harry tense. What else could she possibly have to ask him? "Mr Potter; would you please describe, to the best of your knowledge, the events of your arrival at the home of Mr and Mrs Dursley, on the night of October 31st, 1981?"
"Objection!" Dumbledore cut in. "This questioning is irrelevant to the case, and a breach of Mr Potter's privacy."
"It is relevant, Minister, I promise," Amelia assured.
"I'm happy to answer," Harry added. Scrimgeour gave a curt nod. "I only know what I've been told, since, y'know, I was a baby," Harry admitted, and a few people snickered. "My aunt found me on the doorstep on the morning of November 1st when she went to get the milk delivery. I was left with a letter, explaining that my parents had been killed, and for my own safety my aunt and uncle had to take me in."
"Do you know who wrote this letter?" Amelia pressed.
"Albus Dumbledore, Ma'am."
"So Albus Dumbledore instructed Rubeus Hagrid to bring you to your muggle relatives immediately after the murder of your parents, where he left you on a doorstep overnight in freezing cold weather, with nothing but a letter as explanation." Amelia's tone was even, but her eyes were bright.
"Yes, as far as I know."
"Albus Dumbledore is not the one on trial," Scrimgeour cut in. Amelia's smile widened.
"One more question, Minister." She turned back to Harry. "Mr Potter, are you aware that both the wills of Lily and James Potter expressly forbid your guardianship being turned over to Mrs Potter's muggle sister?"
Harry gaped at her. "I— I didn't know they had wills." When she hadn't mentioned anything, he'd assumed that had come up empty.
"Let the Wizengamot see," Amelia waved her wand, "that according to the records at Gringotts bank, the wills of Lily and James Potter were both sealed by Professor Albus Dumbledore — four hours after the arrest of Mr Sirius Black, but prior to his Azkaban admittance. While Professor Dumbledore was, by technicality, Mr Potter's legal head of house, due to proxy offered by James Potter in the event of his death and Mr Black's inability to claim the position. Approximately seven hours later — around the same time Mr Black was being taken to Azkaban prison without trial — Mrs Petunia Dursley found an infant Harry Potter on her doorstep, after the child had waited there for an unspecified amount of time." Amelia looked up at the Wizengamot, coolly staring down Scrimgeour, not even acknowledging Dumbledore. "It is travesty enough that the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black could be imprisoned for life without trial. It would be much, much worse to consider that it was done to secure the unlawful placement of Harry Potter with his muggle relatives."
Harry stared at her, incredulous. That was a ballsy move. Indeed, Dumbledore looked like he'd choked on one of his lemon drops. "Objection!" the headmaster called after he collected himself. "As Minister Scrimgeour said, I am not the one on trial here, and the matter of the safety of Harry Potter is more complicated than you could begin to understand, Amelia, dear."
"I'm sure you believe that, Professor," Amelia replied blandly. "The point of the matter is, Mr Black was arrested, sentenced and convicted without trial — while his godson, Mr Potter, was claimed and removed from the wizarding world, against the request of his deceased parents, while Mr Black was not present and able to advocate for him. I would not be so bold as to suggest Mr Black was intentionally framed for his crimes, but it is clear that a grave miscarriage of justice was conducted that night, and we are obligated to correct what we can. Sirius Black is an innocent man, and I move for all charges against him to be dropped, and his freedoms — and guardianship of Harry James Potter — to be returned to him immediately."
"All against the motion?" Scrimgeour droned, raising his own wand. Harry craned his neck, counting the number of wands that went up. Hope rose in his chest; it wasn't nearly enough, surely!
When he turned to Dumbledore, the man was staring intently at Narcissa. He looked very surprised that her wand was not raised.
"All in favour of the motion?" Dumbledore raised his wand; as did Amelia, and both Weasley brothers, and Kingsley, and a smattering of others.
And then Narcissa Malfoy raised her wand high in the air.
There was a long, tense silence. Until Percy Weasley cleared his throat. "The motion is passed," he declared somewhat nervously. Scrimgeour had no choice but to slam down his gavel. "Sirius Black is cleared of all charges," he announced, scowling. Immediately, the chains around Sirius' limbs dropped. Harry jumped to his feet, throwing himself into his godfather's arms.
"We did it!" he breathed, his chest so full of joy and relief he could hardly breathe. Sirius smacked a kiss on his head, then straightened up, arm still around Harry's shoulders.
"Before the Wizengamot is dismissed; I, Sirius Orion Black, do hereby claim the Black seat of my birthright." The seat glowed brightly, and a lordship ring formed on Sirius' hand. "I also claim, with permission, proxy guardianship of both the Potter and Peverell seats, until such time that my godson, Harry Potter, comes of age and desires them himself."
Two seats glowed softly, and Harry felt a warmth in his own chest. "I give my permission," he said aloud, not sure if he needed to but not wanting any hint of doubt.
The glow brightened, and then there was a hum of magic in the chamber. It was done.
Dumbledore looked furious.
"Wizengamot dismissed!" Scrimgeour barked, before any other changes could be made. At once, everyone's purple robes transformed back into the outfits they had arrived in. The group began to disperse, and Dumbledore — now wearing a blindingly bright lemon-yellow robe — came towards them. Sirius' hand tightened on Harry's shoulder.
"Congratulations, my boy," the headmaster said, smiling. His eyes were devoid of their twinkle, and it made Harry grin. "You understand, of course, that Amelia's evidence regarding the wills is circumstantial at best? Of course I would have done everything I could to keep you out of prison, but my priority had to be Harry's safety, and by the time that was secured it was too late for me to interfere."
"Oh, I understand completely, Headmaster," Sirius assured evenly. Dumbledore's smile widened.
"Glad to hear it. Harry, it is good to see you looking so well," he added, finally addressing his student. "Might I have a word, if you are not too busy?"
"Sorry, Professor, but Remus is waiting for us at home," Harry said with the best apologetic smile he could muster. "They wouldn't let him in because of the whole werewolf thing, y'know. But he'll be really pleased to hear the good news. Another time, perhaps?"
"I— of course, of course. Enjoy your celebrations." Harry and Sirius didn't wait for the man to apparate away, already headed to the doors where Bill and Charlie were waiting. They stopped at the approach of a blonde head of hair. "Congratulations, cousin," Narcissa drawled, and Sirius grinned.
"Thank you, Cissa, dear. My condolences for the loss of your husband," he added drolly. "Though I hear you have been doing some… spring cleaning, to work through your grief."
"Quite." Narcissa's lips twitched in the barest of smiles. She held out an envelope to Harry, who immediately recognised the handwriting on the outside, his heart lurching. "My son sends his regards, Mr Potter," Narcissa said, watching Harry carefully tuck the letter away. "Good afternoon, gentlemen."
Then she swept away, apparating from the chamber at the threshold. Harry was practically skipping by the time they reached their two redheaded companions.
"Lord Prewett, Lord Weasley," Sirius greeted with an unnecessarily pompous bow. Charlie smirked.
"Lord Black," he returned, offering his arm with a flourish. "Shall we?"
And so with Charlie on one side and Harry on the other, Sirius Black walked out of the Wizengamot chamber, a free man at last.