Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Freedom Bound in Chains	By : TaintedSensibly Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58478 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Harry Potter characters. I did not make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 105
- 106
- 107
The Trial
- January 6th, 1992 -
Remus came for the boys before the sun had fully risen. Today was the day… The day of Sirius’s trial, and Remus’s nerves were on fire. Sirius had become melancholy and unresponsive his last visit as if he were deep in thought. Remus tried to assure him that they’d win, that everyone would make sure of it, but he’d hardly got a reaction. He was about to go fetch the boys himself (what was taking them so long?), but Liam gave him a cold look.
“I’ll check on them.”
The bedroom door was open, so Liam propped himself up in the doorframe, arms crossed loosely. The boys had gotten their own set of sheets by now and furniture. A beautiful hand-quilted cover done in soft pastels and a soft grey-green sage colored cotton sheets were on the bed. They had also painted the walls a pale mint with a white ceiling and white dresser, bed frame, and nightstands. Their wooden magical trunk sat at the foot of the bed. Most of the walls and surfaces of the room were bare, but it was a good start to making the room feel like theirs.
Draco was kneeling on the ground, tying his shoes. Harry stood next to him. They were both dressed in jeans, sneakers and sweaters. It was still hard to wrap his head around the fact that these two kids were from some magical world. But then Draco stood and pulled Harry into a casual kiss that lit the little boy’s eyes up with obvious joy and Liam could believe it better. These two… They were something very special.
“Are you sure you have’ta go to this thing?”
Draco gave him an even look. “Yes. I’m sure. I burned the bridge with Andromeda. It was my mistake. I overreacted and didn’t handle her well.”
“It’s not your fault,” Harry defended, staunchly. His little chin came up, his lips drawing down in a frown. “You were still on edge after everything you’d gone through. She should have been more sensitive.”
Draco stood and ruffled Harry’s already messy hair, making Harry grin. “Regardless. She’s now on a mission to separate and ‘fix’ us. Sirius is our only chance at ending her guardianship rights, and that’s my top priority right now.”
Liam wisely kept the words he so desperately wanted to say to himself. Draco said they needed to go, so they were going. There was nothing he could do. Besides, he was perfectly aware of the fact that he was being irrational. It wasn’t like the boys weren’t coming back.
Harry, always sensitive to the moods of the people around him, gave Liam a hug around the waist. Draco gave him a relaxed wave, and then they were both gone with the scar-faced man. Liam went dejectedly to the kitchen. No way could he go back to sleep. Folding his arms on the counter with a sigh, he watched the coffee percolate.
…
Draco and Harry followed Remus silently; Remus was too anxious to talk and the boys were still waking up. By they time they got to the Leaky Cauldron, more people were moving around and breakfast was being served at the pub. Draco insisted that they be allowed to eat. The trial wasn’t until noon, after all. Remus bowed his head, but inside it felt like his skin was crawling at the delay. The boys were sensitive to his anxiety and ate fairly quickly with very little talking. A few of the morning patrons pointed and whispered, but none of them dared approach them.
The Daily Prophet had gotten hold of the news of Sirius Black’s trial and had printed an article proclaiming the trial date and time. It was going to be a circus. All the families hurt by Death Eaters in the past were already filling the Ministry lobby, holding signs that read: We Want Justice! All Death Eaters to Azkaban! Even with a pardon, Sirius was going to have a hard time with “public opinion” for awhile.
They flooed to Malfoy Manor a little past eight. Lucius stood in the receiving room to greet them. He was already dressed, wearing a nice suit and over-robe with silver snakes knotted at each side of his neck. His thick blond hair was left unbound and fell free just past his shoulders. His eyes were a bright grey, his expression hard, but he gave a small smile when the boys appeared.
“Good morning. I trust you are well,” he said politely.
“We’re managing,” Draco answered with a wry twist to his lips. Just twelve hours ago he’d had a broken nose and the right side of his face had been swollen black and blue. All of which had been erased by a very pleasurable hour spent with Harry before they fell asleep. “Will Andromeda be attending?” he asked curiously.
“I wrote her that you would be sitting with me today,” Lucius answered easily, holding his son’s gaze. “I doubt she would miss the event, considering it is her favorite cousin, however she will not be bothering us.”
Draco inclined his head. “Thank you.” Lifting his eyes he dared ask, “Any word from Narcissa?”
“None,” was Lucius’s clipped response. He tapped his cane on the floor. “Go and get ready. Dobby will assist you.”
Draco nodded and took Harry’s hand. He called over his shoulder, “Play nice now.”
Lucius sniffed and eyed Remus disdainfully. “I trust you can entertain yourself.”
“Yes, of course,” Remus answered distractedly. He was looking at his watch.
Lucius sighed and turned his back. “Should you need refreshments or a calming draught, Lottie will be at your service. We will depart at eleven on the dot.”
Alone with this thoughts and anxiety, Remus practically collapsed in an armchair. These would be the longest three hours of his life.
…
This wasn’t their first trial. For the Dursley trial, Draco had chosen to wear black, funeral colors in mourning for the childhood Harry should have had. This time he chose his House color: Malfoy blue. His day coat fell to mid-thigh and had two rows of large silver buttons going down either side of his chest. They held the coat closed on the side and made it seamless down the front so that it looked like all one piece and vaguely resembled a wizarding robe.
(Children under the age of eleven who had not yet learned to work magic did not wear robes except for school, participating in rituals, or very formal occasions.)
The lapels of the coat were wide, folded back away from his sternum revealing the white button-down he wore underneath and his black necktie knotted loosely around the base of his throat. The end of his white sleeves poked out slightly from the coat-sleeve, revealing an inch of white at his wrists. He also wore black slacks and dress shoes, forgoing his beloved sneakers. He looked the part of a young gentleman, much to Lucius’s approval.
Harry chose to wear Potter red again. His day-coat was tighter and more formfitting than Draco’s, hugging his slender frame. It had wide black cuffs and black lapels that opened in a deeper V than Draco’s, revealing more of his white undershirt. He had a thin, red ribbon tied around his neck to hold the white collar of his undershirt closed, incidentally covering the black collar he never took off. He wore shorts that fell just short of the knee and black socks that came up to mid calf. His dress shoes had higher heels than Draco’s, placing them at the same height. Draco did his best to brush and tame Harry’s hair, but it remained thick and wavy, falling over his ears and into his eyes, covering his forehead.
Remus, of no noble standing, wore simple wizarding robes over a nice charcoal grey suit. They were of much higher quality that Remus typically wore, even verging into stylish. However, next to the Malfoys and Harry, he looked plain. Not that it mattered to him or to the boys, but Lucius continued to shoot him disdainful looks.
It was finally time. The grandfather clock in the foyer could be heard chiming the eleventh hour.
Remus flooed first, grateful he was part of the Malfoy entourage and did not have to take the public entrance to the Ministry. The faster he could arrive the better. Draco and Harry flooed next, hand-in-hand as was usual for them. Lucius followed last.
Coming from the floo hallway, the four of them hit a massive crowd of people. Harry stepped closer to Draco’s side and felt the blond’s hand tighten almost painfully around his own. Lucius and Remus did their best to form a shield in front of them, but it was impossible to pass through without being seen. A dozen voices clamored at once, all directed at Harry despite the forbidding and dangerous presence of both Lucius and Draco.
“Harry! Don’t let them free him!” - “He betrayed your parents!” - “He deserves to die!” - “Harry! Get us justice!” - “Harry!”
Draco detested the familiar way these complete strangers called to his boy. Harry owed them nothing; they were nothing. How dare they open their mouth and scream demands! On top of that, they knew jack shit about what was going on. Weren’t they embarrassed, screaming their ignorance on the top of their lungs?
Harry’s face heated and he ducked his head - anxious nervous. Lucius secured them an elevator to themselves and the doors clanged shut on the noise. Immediately, Draco pulled Harry into a tight embrace and whispered in his ear. “Ignore them, Harry. I’m the only one who matters.”
Harry relaxed into his hold, most of his anxiety melting into a warm - trust love.
Draco kissed his cheek before resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. “Good boy.”
Lucius shifted uncomfortably at the display, but Remus was oblivious. His eyes were glued unblinking to the golden metal doors. They eventually opened and revealed a hallway of black stone. Remus gave a soft intake of breath. “Courtroom Ten?”
“Yes, of course. Were you expecting anything less?” Lucius answered, sneering.
Remus grit his teeth and strode after the other man, leaving Draco and Harry to follow.
The hallway was narrow and made completely of black stone. Torches burned with blue flames and were spaced evenly along the flat, smooth walls. There was a massive grey door at the far end that read: Department of Mysteries, Enter at Your Own Risk. Draco avoided looking at it. A few years ago, Pandora had brought him there to show him how dangerous it would be to try and force Voldemort’s soul apart from Harry’s own. It had involved clones of his beloved, all of whom died miserably. Just the thought was enough to make Draco break out into a cold sweat.
Fortunately, they didn’t go toward that horrifying door. Instead, they turned to a door partially hidden by the elevator. Behind it, there was a narrow, spiral staircase made out of the same glossy black stone. It led them to a room that was both thin and wide. The wall across from the stairs was curved away from them, as if they stood outside of a large, circular room. There were chairs along that curved wall for people to sit and wait if necessary and two doors. One was placed center; the second stood to the far right at the end of the curved wall. It was covered in massive iron bands and beyond it were some cells designed to keep in the worst criminals.
Remus practically jogged as he made for the door in the center. Harry’s eyes went wide as they passed through into a large, circular room that was nearly three stories tall. Massive gold-marbled columns with a black base were placed regularly along the sides of the room. Tiered benches were placed around a deep, low stage in the center that was inlaid with a gold and black mandala pattern. But, as imposing as the room itself was, the sheer number of people were even more so.
Two hundred people filled the room, creating a dull murmur, and the stadium-style seats were only one-third full. One section of the stadium seating were set apart from the rest and positioned directly in front of the single chair that sat in the center. Fifty people in plum-colored robes with the silver W embroidered on the breast filled that space. They also wore triangular hats and nearly all of them had silver or white hair. The rest of the benches were filled with officials in black with smaller groups of red-robed people representing the Aurors.
Unlike the Dursley trial where they had sat high up in the back near the door, Lucius led them down to the first row of seats nearly on level with the floor. They were directly to the right of the section of officials and would be able to see Sirius in profile. Harry’s attention was locked on chair where Sirius would soon sit. Chains hung from the arms and legs. The Dursleys had sat in identical chairs. Harry swallowed hard and felt Draco’s hand tighten around his own, so he forced himself to look at something else.
In front of the chair, among the seats for the officials, was a tall podium with two shorter podiums on either side. Dumbledore, in his plum robe, sat before the shorter podium to the right. His hat was tall and pointed. He also had on heavy silver necklaces with runes hanging from them. A white-wood staff was propped against his side.
“Those in the plum robes are the Wizengamot,” Draco explained, knowing Harry needed a distraction. He had learned all of this when they had come for the Durlsey trial, but he doubted Harry had been paying attention to the lesson in government. “Dumbledore is wearing purple because he is Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. He’s also Supreme Mugwump, which is why he’s wearing those chains of office and has the staff.”
“Plus Headmaster,” Harry murmured quietly. “That’s a lot of jobs.”
Draco snorted.
Lucius’s lips curled up in a smirk. “Very perceptive, Harry. I am concerned about his workload as well.” Then he pointed, playing along with Draco to keep Harry distracted. “There in the grey robes is the Court Scribe. They are potioned to sharpen their acuity and transcribe their memory onto parchment to be used as the official record of the proceeding.”
“Next to her in white is the Youth Representative.” Draco pointed out the next in the line. “It is always someone in their Seventh-year at Hogwarts, usually the Head Boy or Girl.”
Harry looked. It was a girl. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were clearly bright with excitement.
The door opened and absolute silence descended. The Minister walked down the stairs, crossed the stage, and took his place at the center podium. Behind him, Aurors marched in practically carrying Sirius between them. Harry took a deep breath. Sirius was clean and dressed well, but he was skeletally thin and his pale blue eyes - the same color as Narcissa’s - darted every which way in clear panic. Sirius was very firmly shoved into the chair and the chains snapped to life, binding him tightly. They were sitting close enough that they could see Sirius flinch.
Harry’s heart instantly began beating hard as memories of Petunia screaming under a Silencing spell suddenly invaded his mind, and his stomach gave a painful lurch. He unconsciously shrank in his seat, trying to become small and invisible. Draco wrapped an arm around him and pulled him against his side. The crowd of hundreds became instantly silent as the Minister banged his gavel.
Minister Fudge had only been in office little more than a year, having been elected over Crouch who would have been Minister if his popularity hadn’t dropped with the death of his son in Azkaban. His lack of skill as a father put into question his ability as a Minister. Fudge was a short, chubby man with a square face, but he had an affable smile and knew how to hold the attention of a crowd. He wore dark robes, black or maybe dark green, with a faint pin-stripe. He also wore a knotted neck tie that could just be seen over the collar of his robes. His reddish-blond hair had been combed over to hide his balding.
The Minister’s smile was nowhere to be seen as he gazed down hard at Sirius. “Order! I call the court into session today, the 6th of January, in the year of our Lord 1992. The criminal Sirius Black, disowned from the Noble House of Black, has been charged with the murder of twelve Muggles, a wizard by name of Peter Pettigrew…”
Sirius flinched in his chair as the name was read, but he kept his head low, his hair hiding his expression.
“… second, with grievously breaking the Statute of Secrecy, and third, aiding and abetting a known terrorist You-Know-Who in a time of war,” Fudge concluded. He stared down at the man as he leaned over his podium. “Sirius Black, what do you say to these charges?”
The room held its breath as they waited for Sirius to respond. Remus gave Draco a pleading look. At the blond’s small nod, Remus gently pulled Harry up off his seat to stand next to him. Remus coughed in a strange way that had Sirius’s head coming up and looking over. Harry swallowed hard, his heart beating fast in his chest as the pale blue eyes of his godfather met his from across the short distance for the first time in ten years.
Sirius’s whole face changed. A small but true smile spread across his features. Harry’s heart, still beating fast, fluttered with a type of excitement instead of nervousness. Draco wanted Sirius free, and he was clearly struggling, but seeing Harry had helped him. Harry was helping! All this passed in a split second of realization through Harry’s mind. Straightening his shoulders, Harry reached out his hand and said as clearly as he could, “You can do this, Sirius.”
Desperation, filled Sirius’s features and he lifted his head, sat straight in his chair, and looked up at the people judging him for the first time. In a clear voice, Sirius called out, “I am innocent of these crimes!”
Immediately the room burst into noise. Harry, knees shaking, quickly took his seat again.
Remus gave him a quick, shaky hug, tears in his eyes. “Thank you, Harry.”
Draco felt near to bursting with pride. He wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders and pressed a quick kiss to his temple, smiling. * Good job, Harry, * he whispered into his mind.
Harry gave a wild smile and sat ready for any other opportunities to help again.
Minister Fudge gave a speech about justice and then presented his memories to the court. It was disturbing to see the damage to the street and buildings, but even more so to hear the wails of pain and fear, the broken bodies from the explosion. Sirius looked crazed in the memories, staggering and laughing hysterically. He didn’t fight the Aurors when they arrived, just stood laughing until they spelled him unconscious and portkeyed him away.
Surprisingly, it was Dumbledore who stood next. He came down and placed his hand on Sirius’s shoulder. He spoke of Sirius as a student, a brave young man who defied his family’s darker traditions and was abandoned because of it. He explained how the Potters took Sirius in, how James and he were as close as brothers. Dumbledore finished by admitting that he had given the Potters and a few other families the instructions on how to cast the Fidelius Charm and that James and Lily had told him they would make Sirius their Secret Keeper, but that he did not know for a fact if that plan had been followed through. Beard long and white as his hair, Dumbledore turned gravely to the bound man in the chair. His eyes were dark and solemn as he asked very clearly, “Were you, Sirius Black, the Potters’ Secret Keeper?”
“No.” Sirius’s long hair hid most of his face, but Draco and Harry were close enough to see his cheeks shine with tears. “No. I… I was fighting… Doing my best to trip up the Death Eaters… They thought… James… He…” Sirius made a choking sound and fell silent.
Dumbledore gently touched Sirius’s shoulder. “I understand how difficult this is.” His voice and expression went soft with true compassion. “Can you please continue?”
The chains rattled as Sirius shivered, but he lifted his voice once more. “He thought I might be captured… I was to be a decoy…” He barked a harsh laugh that was laced with tears. “They chose Peter…” True hatred burned in his voice and, as he looked up, his eyes were cold as ice. “Peter,” he growled, dark and dangerously. “He betrayed us. Betrayed James! That’s why I went after him! I’LL KILL HIM FOR WHAT HE DID!”
The court broke into loud murmurs as Sirius’s scream bounced from the marble walls. Women gave a soft cry in the audience and Draco could see them literally flinch back, but Sirius was not a danger to them. The man seemed to collapse into himself breathing hard as if he’d run a mile. Dumbledore frowned, hand still resting on his student’s shoulder as he scanned the faces of the Wizengamot and spectators. Sirius’s words sounded like a confession.
“Did you kill him?” Dumbledore asked, silencing the crowd.
“No,” Sirius answered, but his voice was too hushed. Many did not hear him.
“Sirius! Did you kill him?” Dumbledore demanded sharply.
Sirius’s head came up, his eyes were tightly closed. “No. No, I didn’t bloody kill him! I was about to. Chased him into that alleyway and right when I thought I had him… There was this explosion. I shielded just in time, but I didn’t see… couldn’t see where he went… Next thing I knew, the Aurors were on me, and then I was in… in…” He grew furious again. He strained against the chains holding him as he spat up at Dumbledore. “You know where I woke up! Peter’s still out there and I was locked away! James… I need to avenge James! So James can rest in peace!” As quickly as the anger came, it disappeared and Sirius again collapsed in the chair, tears running freely down his face.
“Is there anyone who can verify your claim?” Fudge demanded.
Sirius shook his head. “Peter. No one else.”
“Bring out his wand!” Fudge demanded.
An Auror entered carrying a wandbox. He came to a stop before the podium.
“What was recorded in this wand?” Fudge asked and the crowd held its breath.
“We could not discover the spell history. It is sealed by a blood ritual,” the Auror answered calmly.
The crowd broke into whispers.
“Most Ancient bloodlines have their children seal their wands. It is tradition,” Lucius murmured when Draco cast him a look.
Fudge glared down at the prisoner. “Mr. Black, the court demands you unlock your wand.”
Two Aurors stepped up to stand at either side of Sirius as one of Sirius’s hands was freed and the third Auror handed Sirius his wand. Sirius gave a little gasp and clutched it in a shaking fist.
“The wand, sir!” Fudge snapped.
The Aurors pointed their wands threateningly.
Sirius brought the wand up to his mouth. He whispered something and bit his thumb, smearing it best he could on the wood. It began to glow harshly with red light before flashing to nothing. Sirius was sweating. His shirt stuck to his chest and his hair grew heavy and slick. Sirius’s hand fell almost limply in his lap and the Auror with the box quickly confiscated the wand once more.
“Priori incantatem!” the Auror cast strongly, flicking Sirius’s wand.
A shield charm, powerful and flexible ballooned out of the wand. Dark pain spells followed as well as a few trap spells. A powerful and Dark location spell. Then several healing spells flashed in rapid succession, but by the faint glow, they were unsuccessful. Draco could only assume Sirius had found James and Lily and tried to revive them. There were a few other spells, repair and heating, and the wand went quiet.
“That was the last twenty-four hours of spells,” The Auror announced. “We would have to conduct a ritual to find out the spells that were cast prior to that.”
The crowd was murmuring, disapproval in the tone of their voices, for there had been a lot of Dark spells and Sirius’s wand had been locked. Fudge voiced these suspicions and the fact that Veritaserum was not reliable on Death Eaters.
“He bears no mark,” Dumbledore countered. “Veritasserum would be effective.”
Fudge was tempted to say Sirius wore no mark they could see, but he was wise enough to know how foolish that was. If he put the idea in people’s minds that anyone could be a Death Eater even without a mark, then no one would trust anyone and it would lead to chaos. So Fudge complied and allowed Sirius to retell his story under Veritaserum.
“Were you the Potters’ Secret Keeper?” Fudge asked coldly.
“No.”
“Did you betray the Potters?”
“Yes.”
As the crowd grew excited, Dumbledore cut in, cutting a look at Fudge. “Did you betray them to Voldemort?”
“No.”
“Please keep your questions specific, Minister,” Dumbledore gently chided.
Fudge, red in the face, asked, “Was Peter Pettigrew the Potters’ Secret Keeper?”
“Yes.”
“Did you kill Peter Pettigrew?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Did you blow up the street in an attempt to kill Peter Pettigrew?”
“No.”
“Were you a Death Eater?” Fudge demanded, displeased with Sirius’s answers.
“No.”
“Would you ever be a Death Eater?”
“No!” Sirius shook his head hard. “James would never forgive me.” He was shaking pretty badly by this point and looked deathly pale.
“Enough,” Dumbledore commanded. He gestured for the Auror to administer the antidote and Sirius went completely limp, head hanging. He looked unconscious. “We have heard the testimony of his innocence. We must set him free.”
“He may be innocent of the original charges; however, his wand showed him guilty of practicing Dark magic!” Fudge snapped.
“Those spells warrant time in Azkaban, but not more than the ten years he’s served already,” Dumbledore reminded him. “It was a time of war. The citizens were frightened and sometimes fought back in unwise ways. Sirius was fighting in defense of the man who was like a brother to him and was mad with grief. He comes from an Ancient and Noble bloodline that is close to dying out. In consideration of this and the time he has already served, I recommend a full pardon!”
The crowd was talking loudly now, shocked at Dumbledore’s endorsement.
Fudge banged his gavel several times until he could be heard over the heated whispers. “Sirius Black has shown himself well-versed in the Dark Arts, his wand was locked, and it is likely that he has the skill and knowledge to resist Veritaserum. He has also proven himself to be an unregistered Animagus! Which is proof of his anti-Ministry views.”
“It was wartime!” Dumbledore countered firmly and loudly, white beard and hair rustling as his magic stirred. He set his staff at an angle to his body, looking very formidable. “Many kept such skills secret as a means of last defense! Sirius was in no position to take advantage of the Animagus Forgiveness Act once the war was won.”
“If Peter Pettigrew was the evil mastermind behind the Potters’ attack and the explosion on the Muggle street, why has he never been seen again? Do not tell me to believe he committed suicide and cast that spell to frame Mr. Black. That theory defies understanding!”
“Why is Fudge resisting so hard?” Draco questioned with a frown.
Lucius bent down to answer. “A pardon will bring great shame upon the Ministry and they will owe Black a great debt.”
“But he’ll go free, right?” Harry asked anxiously. He was holding Remus’s hand. The man’s eyes had gone gold and he was stiff as a board, clearly having to exert full control to keep his seat.
“Yes.” Lucius sat up, lips curled in disdain. “Dumbledore has set his mind to freeing Black, so he will go free. That is his power here.”
Surprised at Lucius’s complete confidence on how this trial would go, Draco looked on with more interest.
Sure enough, Dumbledore brought his staff down causing a roll of thunder to fill the room. The sound stirred Sirius from his faint and he moaned as he lifted his head in utter exhaustion.
“I would like to submit evidence to this court. This evidence was held in trust by me as is within my right as Chief Warlock. I wished to bring this evidence forth during the closed hearing regarding the death that occurred at Hogwarts over Winter Break, but I must now submit it to the will of this public court.”
The doors in the back opened and McGonagall strode in. She walked in like an Auror with the same militant stride that was only enhanced by the deep, red robes she wore. Her hair was done up in a strict bun and her expression was perfectly blank as she presented a strangely-shaped shoebox to Dumbledore.
“Thank you, Deputy Headmistress.”
Dumbledore took the box and, with a spell, floated it to the floor between Sirius and the podium the Minister stood behind. Two other quick spells unshrunk the box to reveal a short coffin and opened the lid. Those sitting higher up could see better in this case and there were cries and gasps from above.
“What is this?” Fudge demanded, voice hushed, face pale.
Sirius’s scream of pure rage and pain cracked through the room. He flung himself violently against the chains, almost frothing at the mouth at the sight of Peter’s body. He looked like a madman.
Dumbledore cast a quick wandless, non-verbal Stupefy that knocked Sirius out cold and stepped forward center-stage. “This is the body of Peter Pettigrew. On the night of December twenty-seventh, Peter Pettigrew returned to Hogwarts to steal something of great power that I was protecting. Professor Quirrell and three others discovered Pettigrew’s presence and acted to stop him. I was not at the school, having come to London on some business. They fought with great bravery and the result of that battle was the death of Pettigrew as well as Professor Quirrell. Fortunately, the item of power was kept safe out of the hands of Darkness.”
The room exploded in noise, but with a spell Dumbledore was able to still be heard.
“This is proof Pettigrew was not murdered in 1981 and that Sirius Black’s account is the truth. He is innocent of the crimes attributed to him. I ask the Wizengamot to afford this young man a full pardon!”
Fudge banged his gavel and was shouting something at Dumbledore. He looked furious. Even as close as they were sitting, Draco and the others could not hear what was being said. Aurors swooped in and confiscated the body. The upper levels of the stadium were leaking people as they ran to spread the word. Remus was on his feet, trying to go over the railing so he could stand with Sirius, but more Aurors were blocking his way. The Wizengamot, strangely, were the only still and silent people in the room. Those plum-robed elders stood with perfect stillness as they continued to watch the chaos.
At a sharp gesture from Fudge, Dumbledore raised his staff and brought it hard upon the ground. A wave of silence descended. McGongall stood stoically at his back. Those remaining in the room were forced into stillness, their voices sealed. Draco frowned, chafing under the oppressive spell. Harry, holding tightly to Remus’s arm, hardly noticed. He was just glad Remus had stopped pulling against him so hard.
“I call for the vote,” Dumbledore announced gravely.
Fudge looked murderous for a split second before straightening and pulling his features into something resembling neutral. He banged his gavel three times. “Please raise your hand to award a full pardon to one Sirius Black.”
Hands were lifted into the air. Their number was documented.
“Please raise your hands to dismiss a full pardon to one Sirius Black.”
About a dozen hands lifted. Their number was documented.
Fudge banged his gavel one last time. His voice sounded as stiff as a robot’s. “With a majority vote, Sirius Black will be awarded a full pardon by the Ministry of Magic on today, January 6th, in the year of 1992.”
McGonagall quickly levitated Sirius’s unconscious frame and strode from the room. Dumbledore followed her more slowly. Remus was grinning, his hands shaking violently as he leaned on Harry. Lucius cast him a sneer for his emotional display and kept his own expression otherwise coldly blank.
“I think a trip to the Child Services department is in order,” Draco remarked casually, looking up at his father.
Lucius lifted an eyebrow and caught his cane in one hand. His lips curled at the corners just slightly. “I believe you are correct.”
…
Sirius sat in a small private room in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. It was small and had no window, but that was comforting. So much had happened in the last few days. It still felt like a bizarre dream. He stared almost dumbly at the small radio that Dumbledore had left him.
“I think you’ve been left with your thoughts a little too long, my boy. I’ve always found music to be a good distraction.”
It was barely loud enough to hear and yet it was all Sirius could focus on. Silence, the occasional moan or scream, the sound of sobbing, but mostly silence. For so long. It felt almost intrusive to hear the happy singing of Celestina Warbeck. Then there was the door. His eyes kept darting toward it, couldn’t look away. It scratched at him, like nails on a chalkboard. Because the door… It stood open.
Legs shaking, Sirius stood. He took several deep breaths, heart thundering in his chest. He took one step. Then another. It was terrifying, standing in that open doorway. The hallway beyond was lit by flickering torches. It stood empty. No guards. He was hyperventilating now. Sirius gripped the door, his fingers blanching white. Without thinking, he started to swing it closed, but he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bring himself shut it.
Tears streaking his cheeks, a wild laugh broke free of his chest. Merlin, he was terrified of an open door. Terrified to shut it. What the hell was wrong with him?! Taking all the courage he could muster, Sirius flung himself through the door and hit the opposite wall hard with his shoulder, but strangely the pain calmed him down a bit.
Was it true? Dumbledore had told him. About the pardon. About winning the trial. Was he really free? The concept was almost like trying to understand a foreign language. Turning, mouth still stretched in a too-wide grin, tears still falling down his cheeks, Sirius left the small room with the music and open door and made his way through the halls of Hogwarts. No one stopped him. No Dementors or guards pinned him down. Almost in a trance, he found himself in the Entrance Hall.
Shaking, dream-walking, he pushed and the heavy door opened. The smell of cold winter air hit him like a train. A clear expanse of stars and miles of rolling hills. The smell of the lake, of snow, of nature. It was overwhelming. Before he knew what he was doing, he was transforming, taking shelter in his dog form. With a howl that cut straight to the heart, Padfoot bolted across the grounds, snow crunching under his paws, tongue hanging out. He gave another howl and disappeared over the ridge.
“Are you sure we should let him go?” Minerva asked quietly, watching from a window on the second floor. Tears glittered in her eyes while her hands were folded together almost in prayer.
“This is a good sign,” Dumbledore reassured her, smiling gently. “It took an exceedingly large amount of courage to leave that room. I am terribly proud of him that he found that courage and so soon…”
Minerva reached over and put her hand on her friend’s arm. “Albus…”
Dumbledore covered her hand with his own and they stood together, shoulder-to-shoulder, watching the night and perhaps hoping to catch the silhouette of a scrawny black dog running free for the first time in ten years.
…
- January 7th -
Remus had been counseled by Dumbledore to give Sirius some time and space. He was justifiably overwhelmed right now. Still, Remus found himself sitting awake in his kitchen all night unable to sleep. He drank herbal tea and sat staring in the direction of the castle. It was in that time just before dawn, when the sky lightens to a soft blue-grey, when the world and time seems to become perfectly still. The soft crunch of snow where there shouldn’t be sound drew his attention. Rising, Remus went to the window and saw a black dog against the white snow and ran to the kitchen door, flinging it open.
“Padfoot!” he cried, wild and loud, completely uncaring about the silence of the morning.
The dog’s tongue hung pink from its shaggy mussel. Trotting forward, Padfoot bumped against Remus’s legs and made his way into the house like he owned it. Remus closed the door. Laughing, he followed his friend to the living room where he had plopped down in front of the fire, sprawled on his back with his belly exposed.
“Always shameless about belly rubs,” Remus said with a fond smile.
He sat and obliged his friend for several minutes, scratching and rubbing his wet fur until it was dry and warm. Without warning, Padfoot shifted into his human form. The man who formed sat in a thin, second-hand shirt and pants that the Ministry had given him. So thin and worn, so much older. Hair tangled and dry, broken in places, overly long… But! The smile was the same, full of warmth.
“I wanna see Harry.”
Remus stood. “Of course.” He went to his room to grab some clothes Sirius could borrow. He would burn the rags the Ministry gave his friend. “But we should probably talk about it first.”
“Why?” Sirius accepted the clothes, but he didn’t move to put them on.
“Well…” Remus paused, wondering how he should explain. Unconsciously he rubbed at his deeply scarred cheeks, the marks left by the Muggle exorcists. He, Draco, and Harry had all almost been killed, had suffered beyond description, but in a strange way, it was also the start of Remus’s evolution.
“I don’t think there’s anything I won’t believe. Not after everything,” Sirius said softly and the years in Azkaban showed in his eyes for a brief moment, making him look ancient. “Just tell me.”
Remus ran his hand through his sandy hair and sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Here. Come into the kitchen. I’ll tell you my story while I make breakfast.”
Chapter end.
A/N: Haven’t seen much of the boys lately. I promise we’ll refocus on them starting in the next chapter.
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Freedom Bound in Chains