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Yuletide Blessing in Disguise	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 123768 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related properties--all rights belong to Rowling. Nor do I make any money from the production of this work.

Chapter List
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AN: Yes, yes... I know! Some of you might be thinking, "Wait, haven't I seen this somewhere before?" Yes... Yes you have! Bits of this were "borrowed" from my other fanfic--the really nasty one written especially for this site only--Mudbloods at Hogwarts. Suffice it to say, it was only natural that those elements would appear in another AU version given the circumstances of some of the recent events in this story. ... Not to mention, it was something I thought would be fun to riff on in a story posted at other sites and written for an entirely different audience. ... Anyway, with that all said, on with the story.

The Nobleman

Grimnut paced back and forth; he was almost as anxious as he had been after the Second Task—maybe even more anxious. This was potentially worse. If Boss Gorhammer was correct, the entire Kruella Syndicate was potentially at risk. Grimnut tried to reassure himself that this time, he had played no role in the events. Chief Bloodaxe could hardly hold him accountable for the Auror Office’s investigation of Ludo Bagman, right?
While he waited for the Chief to read the memo, Grimnut decided he needed something to take the edge off. He picked up the little spun-silver bell sitting on the oak sideboard and shook it.
“Goblin Ale and two drams of Firewhisky,” he called out, “No—make that three drams.”
Moments later, a tall tankard of ale and three silver shot glasses magically appeared on the surface of the sideboard. He downed the contents of the shot glasses first, then chugged down the ale. Feeling much better, Grimnut was just wiping the frothy moustache from his upper lip with the back of his hand when Chief Bloodaxe arrived with Accountant Gutripper and several bodyguards.
“Nice and relaxed, then, are we?” Chief Bloodaxe eyed the shot glasses and the tankard; Grimnut gulped. “Good! Because we’ve got some planning to do!”
Grimnut let out a sigh of relief.
“So, let’s review the situation,” the Chief growled as he took a chair on the other side of the table, “Bagman’s square with us, but now we’ve got the Aurors breathing down our necks. Bagman’s also in the tank for the Senior Undersecretary. And now Voldemort is back in the game. Does that about size things up?”
“Yes Chief,” said Grimnut quickly, nodding. “And I already have an outline for a crisis-response plan. I was thinking that we should continue to make arrangements with Bagman for the Third Task to sink Harry Potter. Bagman is sure to be adding more dangers to the Task at the behest of the Senior Undersecretary.
“But this time, instead of putting our own team in, we should use a third party to hire a team from the Burning Crow Gang in Bagman’s name. Then we can send in an anonymous tip to the Auror office—leaving Burning Crow and Bagman, er… holding the bag, so to speak.”
Chief Bloodaxe pursed his lips, his brow furrowing, and stroked his jowly cheeks with one hand. He pondered for a moment, then he slowly nodded.
“I like it,” said the Chief. “So, Bagman goes down, and we take out Burning Crow at the same time. … Good! They’ve been cutting into our bottom line recently—better to take them out before they get too big. Magmatok and Ragnagorok will be just as happy to cut ‘em off at the knees, so we won’t catch any grief from them.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Grimnut, thrilled that the Chief seemed happy with the plan. “I was also thinking…” Then he paused, wondering if he should continue to push his luck.
“Go on!” The Chief’s wispy eyebrows rose up his forehead.
“…I was thinking we should only take even money bets from clients betting for Potter to win—then, say, give them three to one for Potter drawing for first or taking second place—then ten to one if he takes third, and fifteen to one for last…
“And we should put ½ of our own discretionary funds on Potter at seven to one to win—those are the current odds against that licensed bookmakers and Magmatok’s and Ragnagorok’s bookies are listing for Potter to win outright—they’re giving even odds if he draws for first place or takes second, so we’ll be scooping up most of those bettors—and we hold the other ½ of our discretionary funds in reserve—just in case.”
“Hmm…” The Chief went back to pawing at his cheeks; Accountant Gutripper adjusted his glasses, narrowed his eyes and began twirling his pointy goatee.
Grimnut swallowed nervously while the Chief and the Accountant took their time thinking about things.
Then the Chief finally asked, “You really think Potter’s going to take the Third Task?” looking slightly skeptical.
“I do,” said Grimnut. “Potter tied with Krum for first in the First Task. The only reason he tied with Delacour for second place in the Second Task was because our Kill Team held him up—he made short work of the creatures, even Bagman’s Sea-Serpent—and he took out our Kill Team like a professional.
“Burning Crow’s teams are good enough at kneecapping your average wizard, but they don’t stand a chance against Potter—he’ll go through them like a hot knife through boar’s-fat. And I think he can take anything that Bagman will throw against him—Potter’s got a real pro coaching him—a Master in wizard and non-magical combat skills and tactics. He should outmatch Krum easily three months from now.
“Anyone betting that Potter will win outright won’t even bother betting with us when Magmatok and Ragnagorok are giving seven to one, and most will be betting on Potter to take second or to draw for first, and only lunatics going for a real longshot will be betting that he takes third or fourth, so…”
“So, at worst we should still come out ahead,” said Accountant Gutripper gleefully, his eyes lighting up like Christmas trees, “and at best we should make out like Gringotts…”

~o0o~
“How do I look?”
“Like a new man!” said Lupin as he adjusted Sirius’s Windsor knot.
Kreacher began setting plates full of scrambled eggs, bacon, and crumpets in front of Sirius and Lupin, and poured them both cups of tea.
“Master looks most Noble,” Kreacher croaked ingratiatingly as he absentmindedly fingered the gold locket dangling from his neck.
Sirius shook his head, smiling wryly at his house-elf’s choice of words.
“Thank you, Kreacher. Now, I’ll be gone most of the day—be nice to Remus, okay?”
“Of course, Master Sirius.” Kreacher gave Lupin a little bow. “Kreacher will obey Master’s friend as if his orders were your own.”
“That’s not really necessary, Kreacher,” said Lupin, flushing slightly.
“Mister Lupin is convincing Master Sirius to let Kreacher keep Master Regulus’s lockets and Miss Bella’s and Miss Cissy’s pictures. Mister Lupin’s kindness to Kreacher must be rewarded,” Kreacher insisted.
“Quite right,” Sirius beamed at Lupin. “That was an excellent suggestion on his part—I’m just sorry it took you so much work to convince me, Remus. It was certainly worth it.”
“Yes, well, you and Kreacher both deserved a bit of peace and happiness in your lives.”
When breakfast was finished Sirius washed it all down with his tea and Lupin followed him to the foyer to see him off to the Ministry.
“Now remember, it’s very likely that Lucius Malfoy will be at the Ministry to oversee your exoneration and your installment as Head of House Black in the Wizengamot, so keep your emotions in check and don’t give anyone a reason to send you back to Azkaban,” Remus admonished him.
“Yes Remus!” said Sirius, rolling his eyes. “I’ve got it—don’t tip Lucius off to the fact that I want to murder him!”

~o0o~
Draco scowled at his owl as it flew back to the owlery, and he wiped scrambled eggs off his copy of the Daily Prophet. If he didn’t know better, it was almost as if Abaddon was dropping his mail on his breakfast on purpose.
Then Draco saw the headline on the front page of the newspaper and gasped.
YOU-KNOW-WHO BACK FROM THE DEAD!
And further down the page was another, smaller headline.
Peter Pettigrew alive, Sirius Black innocent
Draco wasn’t really sure what to make of the second headline, but the first one made him feel almost giddy with glee and he very nearly let out a whoop of delight. He glanced across the Hall at Potter and his pet Mudblood blithely eating breakfast with the rest of their Harem.
“Hah!” he said aloud to himself, grinning from ear to ear.
Then Draco rose to his feet. “Crabbe, Goyle, I think we should pay Potter a visit.”
“Wh’for?” Crabbe mumbled, his cheeks bulging and scrambled eggs and bacon spilling from his mouth.
“Because I said so,” Draco snapped.
Crabbe stood up, looking a bit disgruntled, and Goyle hastily shoved a whole piece of toast and several sausages into his mouth. They obediently followed Draco across the Hall.

~o0o~
“Oh look,” said Luna matter-of-factly with a sausage dangling on the end of her fork. “Draco Malfoy looks really happy for a change.”
Ginny looked up and snorted. “Happier than he’s been since before Christmas, anyway.”
Ron glanced over his shoulder, his cheeks stuffed with bacon and eggs, and everyone else peered at the smug, swaggering Slytherin approaching the Gryffindor table with his two thuggish lackeys trailing behind him.
Hermione frowned, hoping he wasn’t going to ruin Harry’s appetite and concerned that Harry might be goaded into revealing too much. She leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Don’t forget, you can’t let him know what you know.”
Harry sighed and nodded. He would have loved to wipe that smile off Malfoy’s face by informing him that his father had “disappointed” Voldemort. But he hadn’t even told anyone else about last night’s vision yet. The only people who knew, besides himself and Hermione, were Dora and Fleur, and he reckoned that it was probably safer all the way around to keep what he knew between them for the time being.
“Seen the morning paper yet, Potter?” Malfoy drawled as he flung the Daily Prophet on the table. “I told you you’d picked the wrong side—remember? When we met on the train, on the way to Hogwarts? I warned you not to hang out with these losers!” He gave Hermione and Ron a nasty smirk. “Too late now, Potter! Now the Dark Lord is back, your peasant pal and your pet Mudblood will be the first to go!”
Crabbe and Goyle chuckled sycophantically and cracked their knuckles. Ron nearly leapt to his feet to punch Malfoy, but Neville kept a tight grip on his arm. Everyone at the table glared viciously at Draco, and some even had their wands out.
Harry looked at Malfoy for a moment, then smiled blandly at him, much to the bewilderment of many Gryffindors.
“Well, Malfoy—seems to me that your lot are the ones who should be worried,” said Harry quietly. “What d’you reckon is going to happen to anyone who sides with Voldemort when he gets killed again? … I expect the Dementors’ll be happy to have a few more Death Eaters like your daddy to babysit in Azkaban—assuming he survives, of course.”
A number of Gryffindors winced at hearing Voldemort’s name, but there were a few guffaws and sniggers as well—Fred and George were chortling with laughter. Malfoy flinched and what little colour there was in his pallid features drained away before his cheeks turned a shade of red that Uncle Vernon would be proud of.
“We’ll see who survives, Potter!” he snarled. “You’ll want to keep your eye on that one,” Malfoy jerked his head towards Hermione.
Harry raised his eyebrows and gave Malfoy a cold look, then glanced past Draco.
“What’re you looking at, Potter?”
“Me!” snapped McGonagall, who had just come up behind the three Slytherins.
Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, all spun around, shocked to see the irate looking professor glowering at them.
“Let’s see if another week’s worth of detentions for the three of you—perhaps scrubbing toilets the muggle way—and another fifty points from Mr. Malfoy here—can’t keep you from making death threats,” she said severely. “If it were up to me, you would be sent packing, Mr. Malfoy. Now back to your table, and don’t be late for class!”

~o0o~
Sirius felt a bit strange as he rode the lift from the telephone box down to the Atrium. He rubbed at his freshly shaved face and trimmed goatee; his head felt a lot lighter thanks to the haircut which Remus had given him; he felt like a real human being. It all seemed so surreal after twelve years as a prisoner in Azkaban and a year and a half as a fugitive.
When he stepped out of the lift and merged into the visitors’ queue, he was nearly blinded by the glare of numerous flashbulbs going off in his face. Sirius supposed he really shouldn’t be surprised that the Press had been eagerly awaiting his arrival.
The security wizard quickly pushed the other three visitors ahead of Sirius aside and waved Sirius on through to where he saw Fudge and several Aurors waiting to escort him.
“Sorry folks,” said the security wizard, “very important person...”
“Of course ‘e is!” squealed a pretty blonde witch pushing thirty. “‘E’s Stubby Boardman! ... Stubby, can I get your autograph?”
Sirius chuckled; after all these years he was still getting mistaken for the lead singer of the Hobgoblins.
“Sorry, Miss,” said Sirius, “It’s Black, Sirius Black!”
“Oh blimey!” The witch turned pink and batted her eyelashes, looking no less excited to see him. “Sorry! But still... look me up if you’d like a bit o’company, will you? I’m Ellen Price... I was a couple years behind you—Hufflepuff. I always said it was a frame-up.”
“That’s true—she always did,” said Ellen’s curly haired friend, nodding vigorously.

“Well, I’ll have to see what my partner thinks about that,” Sirius responded with an easy grin and a wink.
“Okay now, make way, make way,” said Minister Fudge, smiling broadly, trying to look as patient as possible. “Sorry, but Mr. Black has waited far too long for justice as it is, and it’s time to make it official.”
“Thanks for the save, Minister,” said Sirius as Fudge led him toward the lifts on the other side of the Atrium, both of them flanked by the Aurors who were busily keeping reporters from the Daily Prophet and other wizarding magazines and papers at bay.
“Please, no need to stand on formality just because we’re in the Ministry, Cornelius will do,” said Fudge warmly. Then Fudge leaned in closer to speak in a hushed tone which nobody else could hear. “Sorry about all the fuss last year, what with the Dementors and such, but—you know…”
“Quite understandable,” said Sirius, “I was a fugitive, after all.”
“Er… yes! And keeping Harry safe was paramount, of course. But we’ll discuss this a bit more in my office, in private, before the official proceedings begin.”
Fudge gestured toward an open lift and Sirius followed him in along with their escorts. The gate rattled shut behind them and Sirius hung on for dear life as the lift hurtled upwards at breakneck speeds. The lift eventually came to a screeching halt and the same female voice which had addressed Sirius in the lift to the Atrium from the telephone box in the Whitehall region of London announced the floor.
“Level One: Administration: Including offices of the Minister for Magic and the Senior Undersecretary and the offices of Administrative Support Staff.”
“Well, this is rather... elegant,” Sirius remarked as he stepped out of the lift onto the plush purple and gold carpet, peering up and down the corridor at the ornately framed portraits on the pastel blue walls and the well cared for ficuses spaced at intervals between highly polished mahogany office doors.
Fudge smiled wryly at Sirius’s comment. Moments later they were both seated in Fudge’s office in well cushioned patent leather chairs, leaving the escorts to wait in the office lobby with Fudge’s secretary.
“We have some time before meeting with Madam Bones, and then with Lucius and the Wizengamot Administration Services, would you like some tea?” Fudge asked politely. “Or a brandy? I know it’s a bit early in the day for libations, but it’s not every day that one receives full exoneration of all charges and a Wizengamot seat all in one go.”
“Good point!” said Sirius with a grin. “How about a bit of both then? Tea with a splash of brandy sounds just about right.”

“Yes, yes! Quite!” Fudge chuckled amiably. A golden tea-service arrived with a wave of Fudge’s wand and he poured a capful of brandy into each steaming teacup.
“Well, Mr. Black,” said Fudge after taking a sip of his own spiked tea, “from fugitive to Warlock in one fell swoop—that is quite a feat, I must say.”
“Now who’s standing on formality, Cornelius?” said Sirius, smirking slightly.
“Touché! Sirius it is then.” Cornelius took another sip of brandy enhanced tea, then continued. “Now that we have a bit of privacy, we can speak more openly, Sirius. I rather think I should apologise on behalf of the Ministry for your incarceration without a trial—”
“There’s really no need to apologise, Cornelius,” said Sirius, taking a sip from his own teacup. “You weren’t Minister at the time, and I hardly led anyone to believe I was innocent. ... Screaming in the streets that I had killed the Potters and laughing manically while twelve muggles lay dead made it all too easy for Bagnold and Crouch to lay it all on me—I gave no reason for them to believe otherwise.”
“True, true!” Fudge agreed. “And finding one of Pettigrew’s fingers certainly didn’t help matters. Nobody presumed he could still be alive…”
“And there was no reason to believe that Peter Pettigrew had framed me,” Sirius added. “No reason to suspect that he could have possibly been a Death Eater. Everyone underestimated him, including myself unfortunately—and he clearly took advantage of that when he joined the Dark Lord. Maybe if I hadn’t been so dismissive of him during in our school days… But looking back now, thinking about things since I saw him at Hogwarts last year, I’m not so sure.
“I honestly can’t imagine how anyone could switch sides and betray all their friends merely for the sake of cowardice, when it was clearly the more dangerous of the options. A coward would have fled Britain altogether and just left us all to sort it out ourselves, and I can’t see why anyone who had truly been afraid of Voldemort…”
Fudge winced and nearly spilled his tea.
“Sorry,” said Sirius, “As I was saying, I can’t imagine why anyone who was truly afraid of You-Know-Who would want to restore him to full strength. It doesn’t make sense. … In retrospect, I have to think now that it was envy. Peter had always wanted everything that James had—power, talent, charisma, glory, gold, girls—but Peter always was a bit lazy… never wanted to do the hard work.
“But basking in James’s presence, hoping for some of it to rub off on him clearly wasn’t enough. I think he reckoned that he could get loads more by sucking up to Voldemort and having a free pass to just take whatever he wanted, and... well... the rest is history.”
“Yes!” Fudge nodded. “Sadly, there was a lot of suspicion to go around in those days, and you’re quite correct—nobody would have thought that Pettigrew had it in him. I know I certainly didn’t.”
Fudge shook his head and sighed heavily with regret.
“Take Lucius Malfoy, for example, I couldn’t see what should have been self-evident—I didn’t want to see it. It was easier to believe that he had been imperiused than it was to challenge him—Britain’s wealthiest and most influential Warlock.
“That’s really why we’re having this little chat. Lucius is not one for participating in Wizengamot proceedings—that’s what his proxy is for—but when it comes to having a say in who is allowed to be seated, he takes his role as head of Wizengamot Administration Services a bit more seriously. If he can find a reason, he may raise objections to seating you—”
“Then I shall have to see that he doesn’t,” said Sirius dryly. “I’ll play nice with Lucius, if that’s what it takes.”
“Er, yes, very good then,” said Fudge. “I was about to say that Lucius is currently under investigation at my orders, now that I have… er… seen the light, so to speak. But, in the meantime, until the D.M.L.E. has enough to charge him, his decisions still carry some weight.”
“Understood, Cornelius,” Sirius drained the rest of his tea and brandy with a single gulp, thinking it best not to let Fudge know that Dumbledore had already told him everything. Being in contact with a fugitive, even one who was being considered for exoneration, could have strained recently repaired relations between Fudge and Dumbledore.
“Well then,” said Fudge, beaming and looking very relieved, “we still have ten more minutes before meeting with Madam Bones and then Lucius—another tea with brandy?”
Sirius thought for a moment.
“I think I’ll just have the brandy—no tea!” Sirius said with a grin. “And make it a double! I’ll need all the help I can get to stop myself from smacking Vol… You-Know-Who’s ex-poodle upside the head and getting myself landed right back in Azkaban.”
Two hours later after meeting with Madam Bones and submitting to a Veritaserum confirmed interview (with Cornelius Fudge present) which invalidated his all too public “confession,” and signing numerous documents, Sirius Orion Black exited her office a legitimately free man with his record completely expunged and a Ministry settlement of several hundred thousand galleons for time served in Azkaban.
Sirius had lunch and some more shots—this time of Firewhisky—with Cornelius Fudge, and then spent most of the afternoon “making nice” with Lucius Malfoy, sitting in meetings with the Wizengamot Administration Services and the Office of Estate Adjudication Services, and signing many more official documents.
At the end of it all, Sirius Orion Black exited the Ministry a legitimate Warlock—Head of House Black, with a seat on the Wizengamot—just as dusk began to settle over the streets of London.
He snorted and shook his head, unable to get the uncomfortable comment that Lucius Malfoy had made out of his mind, referring to Sirius as one of a dying breed, a Nobleman. He couldn’t wait to tell Harry all about it. But as it grew darker and began to rain again, Sirius decided to walk home from Whitehall to the Islington Borough of London, just happy to be able to walk freely in the world once more, without the threat of Azkaban hanging over his head.
AN: I think I may have inadvertently missed some responding to some reviews from some months ago, waaaay back in September. Anyway, for those who did leave comments, my belated thanks and apologies. If you leave any further comments, I shan't forget you when I return with the follow-up chapter.
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Yuletide Blessing in Disguise