Dust, Dust...
Dust, dust
On the twelfth of August,
Dust, became the Wizengamot!
I see no reason
Why the fall of the Wizen
Should ever be forgot.
"Stop pacing, Padfoot!" Remus reprimanded sharply.
Ever since the news of the attack on Harry had filtered in, Sirius had been worrying himself sick. Nobody could get through to him in any manner, and his capability for rational thought was suspect, if his near-attack on Dumbledore, "to fuck the bloody blood protections and get Harry the fucking hell out of that godforsaken dump!" was any indication.
It rankled that he was once more a prisoner, just as his godson had been and still was for the best part of the previous fourteen years.
"I am trying to think of a way to get Harry out of this!"
"What are you going to do?" Remus asked scornfully. "You'd be kissed as soon as you step out of this place."
"I wouldn't be if that goat-shagging bastard of a Headmaster had given me a trial like he gave Severus "He is no more a Death Eater than I am" Snape! I have half a mind to throw every one of you out and get Harry here and put everything under lockdown. Your Order bullshit does nothing except imprisoning us!"
Remus knew better than to be hurt by what Padfoot said. That didn't mean he was not worried about Sirius' course of action regarding the Order. Sirius hated it. He had set up the logic that if James and Lily weren't part of the Order, they wouldn't have been killed. And he had become increasingly abrasive towards everyone in the house, and they couldn't complain since it was his.
"And what will that achieve?"
"Well, unlike your patrols, I will be able to actually ensure that Harry is safe and loved," Sirius spat back. "I know what happens in that House. It's just like what happened here to me. You all must be getting your jollies seeing that bastard family hurting Harry, no?" he sneered.
It was only with all his control that Remus stopped himself from decking Sirius.
"Get yourself free then. You know as well as I do that only when half the Wizengamot is dead will your trial plea even be heard."
Sirius froze mid-step. And Remus froze barely a moment later as he realised just what he had said to possibly the most volatile yet stubborn wizard, if not the most volatile yet stubborn person, in England. Voldemort would be easier to deal with than Sirius once the mutt got an idea into his head.
"No, Padfoot!" Remus warned. "You are not going to do that!"
"Do what Moony?" asked Sirius innocently.
"You do realise what that would mean, don't you?" Remus asked exasperatedly. He didn't even dignify Sirius' attempts at portraying innocence with a mention, let alone a reply.
"Mean what?"
"Sirius, please," scolded Remus tersely. "I am not stupid."
Sirius huffed. "Alright, then; I know what it would mean."
"What?" Remus condescendingly asked.
"We would destroy half of Voldemort's support, destroy the corrupt Ministry, make our own correct laws, give the Aurors lots of ammunition to go after the rest of the Death Eaters, and actually do something that would harm Voldemort's power. Oh, and we can take over the Ministry. Did I say that before? Oh, and we could save the lives of many innocent people."
And, just like that, Remus Lupin was once again roped into Sirius Black's plans.
"And what of people like Augusta Longbottom or Bones for that matter?"
"We stun them, or drug them."
"And who are these 'we'?"
That brought Sirius' nebulous plans to a halt. "I thought you'd help me!"
"Two people, Sirius, can't do much."
"Oh."
Remus sat there calmly, waiting for Sirius to come up with something, half-expecting Sirius to ask Prongs to do something. He got no response or stimulus for three hours. He had a nice nap in the interim.
Sirius on the other hand had gone around the house asking for Hermione and Ron. He didn't particularly care for the latter – he had abandoned Harry, though the boy had been forgiven.
"Who would help him and could help Harry cast magic without triggering the Trace?"
In spite of her SPEW crusade, there was one answer Hermione could come up with – Dobby.
"So you understand what you have to do?"
"Yes. Dobby understands. Dobby must cause everyone but bad Master's friends and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's followers inside the Hall and take them away to the side before they sit on their seats. And then he has to bring all of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's followers still in the building inside the Wizengamot."
"Yes. Thanks Dobby. If this works, Harry will be free in many more ways than one."
"Dobby is happy to help The Great Master Harry Potter's Dogfather."
The little critter popped away. He had promised to secure help.
11th August 1995
Padfoot the dog chased a car travelling through London's streets late at night after a job particularly well done. The charges were placed under each seat. The rogue elves Dobby had asked for help had reinforced the walls of the Wizengamot. Tomorrow would be the day. They would rue the day they thought of going after Sirius Black's godson. And Moony had brought them one more gift. Poor man had wanted to help, but he wasn't Remus that night, a full moon.
12th August 1995
Cornelius Fudge looked at the brat smiling up at him insolently. It was ten. There was no Amelia, no Augusta, no Tiberius Ogden... In fact none of those that would have voted for Potter were in the Hall. He could almost smell victory and taste it. He didn't realise that Percy Weatherby wasn't there either.
He didn't even question why Lucius had come in and looked scared. All he saw was the destruction of this threat to his regime, his rule, his power.
When the doors were finally closed, Potter stood up, still smiling.
"What are you doing, boy?" Cornelius snarled. He wouldn't mind asking an Auror or two to stun him and pass a summary judgement. He had a sudden feeling that something was off with the boy and couldn't shake it off.
"I have a gift for you, Minister," the boy said, still grinning insanely while reaching into his pocket. He drew out a pipe with a fist handle. It was oddly shaped. Cornelius thought that he should know this thing from somewhere. It was also his last thought.
The hall sat in shocked silence as the boy cried, "Long live the revolution!" and shot Cornelius thrice. The deafening bangs were enough to shock and stun everyone.
Cornelius' eyes widened in shock in his last moments as he realised what had happened. Dolores had not even moved before the boy called, "Dobby!"
The elf duly came. If there was ever an expression that none of the bigots sitting in the room had seen, it was that expression of vicious hatred mingled with triumph. The boy drew a box and pressed the big red rune on top of it, Dawlish, the closest Auror could see.
When such things happen, time seems to slow down. In fact, however, only fifteen seconds had elapsed. And those were the last fifteen seconds of the lives of the Death Eaters in the building, as the charges blew apart.
It was a glorious day as the boy's insane laughter, so curiously like the barks of a dog, rose in symphony with the screams of the dying and the sounds of the blasts. Now there was just the question of a man's freedom left to be resolved. There wasn't anyone left to question him.
Back at Grimmauld Place, Molly was fussing over Harry. He had a horrible fever. She tried hiding her frown as he kept asking where Sirius was. They were worried because Dumbledore, who had gone to the Ministry to request them to arrange another trial date, had not returned yet. They were willing to concede most of the Ministry's demands on the matter. Harry's education had to be protected.
It was in that situation that Dumbledore appeared at Grimmauld Place, shaking and completely pale.
He sat down in the hall, where Harry lay on the couch. Seeing his state, he was handed a glass of firewhiskey instead of tea.
"Dumbledore?" asked Molly after an appropriate amount of time. "What happened?"
Harry was sure it was the delirium of his fever when Dumbledore shakily replied, "Sirius has captured the Ministry."
