A/N: I'm going to have a busy week ahead of me, and I'd like to devote my free time to writing, so I thought I would edit this chapter early and post it now for you since you're all crazy awesome! Big thanks to my alpha and beta readers, and KittenShift17 for taking a second look over this chapter for me. Shoutout to TigerChica for review #1900, Irmorena for #2000, and blackgrl71 for #2100! I continue to be shocked by the support of this fic, especially since I see A LOT of new readers in the reviews. I'm curious how you all stumbled upon this story (because if you were recommended by someone specific, I'd love to thank them!) Let me know in the reviews

The Reclamation of Black Magic

Chapter Ten
"Sanguinem Verus"

January 11th, 1987

Ministry of Magic

Dorea waited patiently as the whispers echoed in the large room to a deafening volume, only to be silenced when the minister raised her wand. "Madam Potter, I . . . I did not think you of all people would want to be here today."

Frowning thoughtfully, Dorea asked, "And why not? Sirius Black's innocence affects me a great deal. Many have clearly forgotten that I raised that boy from the age of eleven." She very purposely kept her gaze away from Albus, instead directing it toward Crouch and Fudge, only the latter of whom looked properly castigated at the very sight of her. "I may not have birthed him, but his blood runs in my veins."

Head held high, Dorea squared her shoulders, looking battle ready. Her stare was hard as she announced to the entirety of the Wizengamot, "I have come to collect my child. I will see justice done this day."

While the majority of spectators were busy picking their jaws up off of the floor, Arcturus slowly returned to his chair. When Lucretia offered her father her arm to help him, he brushed her off irritably. "I know that I'm not the Patriarch any longer, but I'd prefer to remain in my seat, if it pleases you all. Bloody arthritis."

"There has not been a family coven in . . . This is outrageous!" Crouch said and turned to the minister. "Is this even legal?"

"Watch your tone, Crouch," Fudge hissed, reaching over and yanking on the man's robes to get his attention. "Some of us still respect the old ways." When Crouch brushed him off, the squat man stood, removing his hat and wiping the sweat from his brow as he made eye contact with Dorea. "Madam Potter, you are a member of this Black coven?"

She dipped her chin to him. "I am the High Witch of my coven, sir."

Fudge paled further and retook his seat, his hands shaking as he tried to put his hat back on straight, only to have it fall off, landing on the lap of the wizard sitting to his right.

"Everyone calm down, please," Dumbledore said, finally breaking his silence when the crowd began to get out of control once more. "Let the lady speak. Madam Potter, are we to presume that your coven has already been bound in ritual? And you have thirteen?"

One by one, each of the witches stood.

Crouch made eye contact with his sister, Camilla, and glared at her as though she had sold him out herself. Some men in the courtroom, mainly those married to witches in the coven such as Ignatius Prewett and Septimus Weasley, merely smiled as their wives stood. A few men began chattering amongst themselves, counting, when Minerva stood and silenced them all with a narrow look.

Dumbledore swallowed, dutifully avoiding Minerva's glower. "What idol has the Black coven chosen?" he asked, taking notice out of the corner of his eye as his deputy head returned to her book.

Dorea grinned, doing her best to keep it subtle and not menacing. "Morgana," she said, pleased at the way that Fudge and a few others began actually choking on the gasps that tried to escape their throats.

The last family coven had chosen Nimue to balance the wizards in the world that likened themselves to Merlin. The coven before them had gone with Circe, to distance themselves entirely. Choosing Morgana, Merlin's great enemy, spoke volumes. Morgana had been a Dark witch by nature, but one skilled in the healing arts as well. The Black witches were stating that they were to be feared and respected because the power they would wield could be used for the benefit of all . . . or the destruction of many.

It helped that Morgana was linked with the fey, and many wizards were greatly superstitious—Fudge was clearly one of them.

"The Ancient and Noble House of Black, and the coven that represents it," Dorea said, her voice echoing in the chamber, "demand the fair trial of our former heir, whom we believe was wrongly imprisoned by this assembled body."

Unlike every other statement, this was met with pure silence, most still too shocked or afraid to say a word against her.

Dumbledore, however, cleared his throat and sent her a look of sympathy, as though she were some poor creature in need of his pity. "Madam Potter . . . Dorea . . . you must know that Sirius Black . . . He betrayed James and his family. Sirius Black is the reason that your grandson is an orphan. You want this man freed?"

"I want to hear from Sirius's own mouth that he betrayed his brother," she insisted. "I won't believe it from anyone other than him."

"He murdered Peter Pettigrew as well as twelve Muggles!" Crouch exclaimed, his face turning red. "Of course the man betrayed the Potters! He was a Death Eater! You-Know-Who's favourite! Apologies, Madam Potter," he said, using a disrespectful tone that Dorea made a mental note to remember, "but you are delusional if you think otherwise."

"Delusional?" Tiberius Ogden repeated, incredulously as he stared across the Wizengamot at the man. "Merlin, man, do you have a suicide wish? Do you know to whom you're speaking? Dorea Potter just proclaimed herself High Witch of the first familial coven in Britain in . . . in . . ."

"Three hundred years," Lucretia primly provided.

Camilla narrowed her eyes at Bartemius. "Be very careful how you speak to Dorea, brother."

Crouch turned his attention to his sister, sneering at her in reply. "Stand against me in this, Camilla, and I'll see you disowned for the betrayal of your family."

She laughed cheerfully. "I stand with my family today, or haven't you been paying attention? You seem very against this trial, Barty. Do you have something to hide?"

Crouch folded his arms across his chest. "He's a murderer. He told me so himself! I won't say it again."

"Good," Cassie said, rubbing at her temples. "Your voice grates on my nerves."

"Many of you esteemed wizards and witches have children of your own," Dorea said, stepping from the bench she sat at to walk forward, placing herself in the centre of the chamber and in front of every member of the Wizengamot. "Hyperion Greengrass, you have two young daughters, do you not?"

The young wizard looked briefly shocked to have been singled out, but he bowed his head respectfully toward her and nodded. "I do. Daphne's the same age as your grandson, I believe; Astoria's just turned three."

Dorea smiled. "And if little Astoria were to grow up and murder her sister? Would she be any less your daughter?"

His mouth fell open in shock at the very thought of such a horror. "I . . . I . . ."

"Madam Marchbanks," Dorea said as she turned her attention toward an older witch, "you have three sons, do you not?"

"I do," the woman replied, lifting a brow in curiosity.

"And would any of them kill or betray the others?"

"Never," she said automatically. "They are closer than any brothers could be."

"So were my boys," Dorea said, addressing the large room. "Sirius and James were brothers. If a confession does not come from Sirius's own mouth, I will never believe the things he has been accused of. He is my son."

Dumbledore sighed in resignation after sharing a look with the minister. "Can his word be trusted as truth?"

Minerva set her book down on the bench beside her with a loud thunk, drawing attention from the crowd as she stood. Folding her hands gently in front of her, she announced, "The coven requests that Sirius Black be given the option to be placed under a Sanguinem Verus."

Whatever twinkle might have been left in Dumbledore's blue eyes faded. "Blood Magic?"

Crouch shook his head, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest. "That's not legal."

Fudge groaned in embarrassment, as though sitting near the man was putting him at risk for being associated. Amelia Bones looked ready to throw something at Crouch. "They are a coven!" she told him. "Of course it's legal! Especially since Sirius Black is their own blood."

"It is impossible to fight the Sanguinem Verus," Cassie announced, as she had been elected to be the one to cast the spell. Dorea was too close to Sirius, and Cassie was known to be able to disconnect emotionally to prevent a sympathetic transference of feelings during the spell. "He would, of course, have to be willing, as any lie from his mouth would kill him. Think of it like a temporary Unbreakable Vow."

"And this is what you wish, Madam Potter?" Minister Bagnold asked.

Dorea sighed but did not relax her posture in the slightest. "This is the decision of the coven. If Sirius did have a hand in James's death, then he will either tell the truth and return to Azkaban, or he will lie and die before us. Either way, justice will have been brought."

The minister contemplated that very carefully before turning to look at Dumbledore for help. He shook his head very slightly, and she raised a brow at him before looking to the Aurors standing beside the second set of doors. Ignoring Dumbledore's silent protests to the use of Blood Magic, she ordered, "Bring him out then. Let's see what Sirius Black has to say for himself."

Dorea quickly returned to her seat, looking on as Minerva and Cassie took her place at the front of the room. The doors opened and Aurors disappeared through them only to return a moment later, each with a tight grip on the arm of a young man with long, matted, black hair that covered most of his face.

From the bit of his skin visible to her gaze, Dorea could see that he was gaunt and ashen. There was a line of dirt on his skin between his neck and where his prison uniform was being pulled as the Aurors moved him, indicating that he had not been bathed in quite some time. Sirius did not fight against the grip that the Aurors had on him; he hung limply in their arms, consigned to whatever fate they were delivering him to.

His bare feet dragged behind him, the tops scraping against the floor. Dorea winced at the sight. Several of his toes had obviously been broken and left untreated; the bones were crooked and the joints looked larger than normal. She closed her eyes, unable to look any further without losing control of her emotions and magic. She was grateful to feel Andromeda squeeze her shaking hand.

The Aurors directed Sirius to a chair in the centre of the room. The Wizengamot faced the front, the spectators—and coven—at his back. The moment that the Aurors dropped him in the chair, chains from the sides shot up and bound Sirius's arms and legs. Another wrapped itself around his chest, forcing him to sit up straight. He winced and let out a pained groan.

"Sirius Black," Cassie said, moving to stand in front of him, "do you know why you're here today?"

There was a long moment of silence before Sirius slowly shook his head.

"You are here to be tried for the crimes you are accused of. The Ancient and Noble House of Black has decided to offer you the choice of Sanguinem Verus. Do you agree?"

He forced his attention up to her, his eyes dull and glazed as he stared up at her in confusion. He looked concussed. "San . . .? Blood Magic?"

"Do you agree?"

He swallowed dryly and cleared his throat, his voice rough and scratchy as he asked, "How?"

Cassie ignored his questions. "Do you agree?"

Still obviously confused, Sirius shook his head before muttering, "I . . . I . . . Yes, I agree."

Dorea did her best not to visibly show how she was both nervous and relieved at his consent. She knew without a doubt in her heart that neither of her sons would ever betray the other, but something had happened, and she was terrified to find out what.

"And you know that if you lie under the spell, your magic will poison you from the inside out, and you will die a most horrible death?" Cassie asked, looking down at Sirius with a raised eyebrow and what was supposed to be an air of impassiveness, but when she made eye contact with the man, she raised an expectant eyebrow at him.

Sirius blinked. "Aunt Cassie?"

Cassie huffed, momentarily breaking her cold, stony facade. "Sirius, do you consent?"

He let out a choked sob. "It's my fault. Everything . . . it's—"

"Do you see?!" Crouch stood again, pointing his finger down at Sirius with disdain. "What further proof is needed? He confesses! He murdered Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles!"

Blinking, confused and angry, Sirius shook his head. "What? Peter? I . . . No!"

"Consent!" Cassie urged him as the Wizengamot began shouting over one another.

"Yes! Do it!"

Sirius sucked in a sharp breath when a wand was pressed against his chest over his heart. The entire Wizengamot and audience fell silent as they watched on with great interest. Cassie kept Sirius at wand point while she held her hand out, palm up, to Minerva. Sirius turned his attention briefly to his former professor, who did not spare him a glance as she concentrated on the spell, cutting open Cassie's palm with a Slicing Hex.

"Sanguis Sanguinis Mei," Cassie muttered as she let her blood drop on the middle of her wand, watching as the wood began to glow in her hand and move down toward the tip being pressed against Sirius's chest. Everyone knew when the light and magic had touched him because he let out a shocked gasp loud enough that it echoed in the room. "Sanguinem Verus!" Cassie pulled her wand back and watched closely as Sirius's back straightened, his eyes cleared, and his shoulders relaxed. He looked rather Imperiused, but no one said anything about it.

Minerva let out a careful breath as she took Cassie's place in front of the man. "Sirius Black, are you or have you ever been a Death Eater?"

"No," Sirius answered mechanically. The passion was lost from his voice, but everyone that could hear him could not mistake the disgust in his tone at being asked the question. "Never. I'd rather die than kneel at the feet of that sorry excuse for a wizard." As though his words would still not be proof enough, despite the spell, Sirius pulled his left arm hard enough that the chain trapping it wrenched tighter, drawing Minerva's gaze.

Flicking her wand at the arm, she sliced open the sleeve to reveal an inner forearm that was marked with nothing except recent bruises and faded tattoos; there was certainly no Dark Mark. She turned and stared up at the Wizengamot, lifting a delicate and challenging eyebrow and pursing her lips in anger, daring any one of the fools to raise his voice to her.

"He has no Dark Mark," the minister said before turning her attention to Crouch, her brows furrowing in anger. "He has no Dark Mark! Why were we led to believe otherwise?"

Crouch just shook his head. "He confessed. He . . . He confessed."

"Sirius Black, did you murder Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles November of 1981?" Minerva asked bluntly.

"I did not," Sirius answered. "I would never kill an innocent person—wizard or Muggle. I did mean for Peter to die."

The audience began to whisper their surprise. Dorea gripped Andromeda's hand tightly. Shocked, Minerva turned on her heel and stared at him. "What? Why?"

"Peter betrayed James and Lily," Sirius said, his focused gaze turning to look up into the benches of the Wizengamot where Dumbledore sat. He made eye contact with the man, whose face drained of all colour. "Peter is the reason they died. I tracked him down with the intentions of killing him. I'd kill him now if he stood in front of me."

An unpleasant chill ran down Dorea's spine at the admission. Peter. Little Peter whom she had welcomed into her home just like the rest of James's friends. She had watched the boy grow up, allowed him to eat at her table, sleep in her home . . . How did someone so seemingly innocent grow up to be whatever it was that Sirius was now describing?

"How is that possible?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward as though he and Sirius were the only two people involved in the conversation. His expression was torn and emotional, bordering between guilt and absolute disbelief. "You were the Potters' Secret Keeper. I cast that charm myself."

The minister's mouth fell open in shock. "You did what?"

"I was suspicious," Sirius said. "The wards around my flat had been tampered with, and I began to suspect that I was being followed. Voldemort wanted Lily, James, and Harry. I knew he could try to use me to get to them. I was a poor choice for Secret Keeper. I was worried that Death Eaters were following me, thinking that I could lead them to James." He looked away from Dumbledore then. "I Apparated around Britain to various places to get rid of any potential trackers, and then I grabbed Peter and took him to Godric's Hollow. We recast the charm ourselves. Peter Pettigrew was James and Lily's Secret Keeper."

Dumbledore shook his head, gobsmacked. "What? You recast . . . I . . . How?"

"Peter was a Death Eater. Peter was a spy. I saw the Dark Mark on his arm the night I confronted him. He cut off his own finger and caused the explosion that killed the Muggles."

Crouch exploded. "Why did you confess that night?! You told me that you were responsible!"

"I was. I was the one who suggested that Peter be the . . . Secret Keeper," Sirius admitted, his words getting stuck in his throat as he became overwhelmed by emotion. "I should have known that he was a spy. I'd meant to kill Peter, but I wasn't fast enough. He killed those Muggles because I didn't stop him in time."

Crouch scoffed, ignoring the way that the members of the Wizengamot sitting near him were looking up at him as though he were covered in stink sap. "You mean for us to believe that Peter Pettigrew just blew himself up along with twelve Muggles for no good reason?"

"Cut his finger off to leave behind proof," Sirius muttered. "Killed the Muggles to . . . frame me. Peter didn't die. He escaped."

"Quiet!" the minister yelled when the gathered people began gasping and shouting in shock.

"How is that possible?" Dumbledore asked when the room had quieted once again.

Sirius looked as if, for the first time, he was trying to fight the push of the Sanguinem Verus. He swallowed hard and looked up at Minerva. Her eyes narrowed at him curiously, watching in shock as they—very briefly—shifted colour and shape. "Oh, you foolish boy," she whispered under her breath and then announced, "Peter Pettigrew is an Animagus."

"What?!" Fudge shrieked and jumped from his seat as though he were preparing to be assaulted by any random animal that might have sneaked into the room. "How is that possible?!"

"We had to," Sirius said, letting out a pained breath as the spell overpowered him completely. "We couldn't let Moony suffer alone." He choked on a small sob when Minerva reached out and took his hand, giving him the first gentle touch in over five years.

"This is a farce!" Crouch accused. "The spell clearly didn't take, or the dementors have driven him mad!"

Sirius scoffed and held Minerva's hand a bit tighter, as though drawing strength from her. "Dementors don't hurt me like they do the others," he said in a slightly smug tone, a bit more subdued—because of the spell, Dorea thought—than Sirius was likely to be.

Dumbledore tilted his head to the side in curiosity. "What did you say?"

"I'm innocent," Sirius said. "I keep them out of my head by remembering that when I'm human."

"When you're . . ." the minister began before gaping at Sirius. "You're an Animagus as well?"

Sirius nodded. "Dog."

"He's not registered," Crouch mumbled as he took his seat, ignoring the way others automatically scooted away from him. He crossed his arms defiantly. "You hear me? He's not registered. Still a criminal."

Minerva pursed her lips. "I think that time already served will account for that crime, thank you, Mr Crouch!"

Sirius let out a soft breath and his shoulders relaxed a bit more. "I like it when you yell, Minnie. Always did." A dumb smile plastered itself to his face as his eyes dimmed a bit as he completely stopped fighting the spell, letting it really dig its way into his blood and bones. "I used to purposely get in trouble in class. One of the Muggle-born boys in our year went to Muggle primary where he said teachers would spank you when you misbehaved. Always wondered if I pushed you far enough—"

Minerva let go of Sirius's hand and flicked her wand, silencing him. "Stop talking right this second, young man!"

Cassie snorted and unsilenced him. "I like this spell."

Ignoring her, Minerva glared up at the assembled body of officials. "Is this sufficient proof?"

Cameras began flashing again as the Wizengamot members talked amongst themselves, the minister conferring with several people, Dumbledore included. Andromeda patted Dorea's hand while they waited. Dorea could not take her eyes off of Sirius, off of her son, who sat chained to the chair like a madman, like the criminal he had been accused of being. Eyes stinging from unshed tears and something inside of her chest throbbing with the need to rush to him, she distracted herself from the pain by making a mental list of all the injuries she could spot. Every mark would be returned tenfold upon anyone who had dared touch her boy.

"Take a breath," Andromeda whispered. "You can't lose control here."

"Look what they did to him," Narcissa muttered angrily under her breath from the row behind them, clenching her amulet tightly in her hand. "How dare they lay a hand on a son of our House."

"Cissy," Andromeda said, looking over her shoulder.

When Narcissa did not react to her sister's words, Nymphadora leant over the back of the bench and grabbed her aunt's hand, smiling when the blonde was startled out of her anger. "Thank you, dear," she said quietly.

While Dorea breathed slow and deep to calm herself, Minister Bagnold stood and turned her focus on the chair in the centre of the room. "Sirius Black, is there any reason why you should be returned to Azkaban prison?"

Sirius shrugged sadly and whispered, "Nowhere else to go."

Dorea sniffled and shook her head, turning away from everyone, especially the cameras as they continued to flash around her. Andromeda and Nymphadora both sat up straighter as though they could block Dorea from the photographers.

"Are you guilty of any crime with which you've been accused?" Minister Bagnold asked Sirius.

"Just the Animagus bit," he confessed. "I didn't kill Peter or those Muggles. I was not in league with Voldemort. I would have rather stabbed myself in the heart than betrayed James."

The minister turned back to glance at Dumbledore, both looking torn and concerned with everything that had happened in such a short period of time, though Dumbledore looked far more perturbed by it all, as though it were a personal slight against him rather than an epic fuck up on part of Crouch and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Before anyone could say another word against Sirius, Cassie stepped forward, making the decision for them as previously rehearsed. "The Ancient and Noble House of Black reclaims its stolen son," she said, words carefully chosen as she pointed at Sirius. "Sirius Black is innocent, and we demand that the world know this." In the corner of the room, Rita Skeeter's Quick-Quotes Quill broke from writing so rapidly. "Let it be known," Cassie continued, "now and forever, that Bartemius Crouch is an enemy of the Black coven and the House we represent for the crimes committed against a son of our House."

Crouch paled dramatically, his moustache quivering on his face. "Wh-What?" he stammered. "You can't. I-I'm a son of the House of Black as well! Camilla, tell them! I'm a son of the House of Black!"

"Not anymore," Minerva tersely ground out. "The coven has made our decision."

Sirius blinked, confused. "Coven?"

"Never you mind that, young man," Minerva said, waving her wand intricately over his chest and ending the Sanguinem Verus. "Come with me; we'll get you home safely." When the chains did not release his limbs, she turned and sent a withering glare to the Aurors standing nearby. They shared a brief look with the minister before rushing to release their prisoner.

Sirius coughed as the final remnants of the spell were pulled from his chest. "Home?" He leant against the older witch, stumbling a bit as he tried to plant his misshapen feet firmly on the ground. The Aurors stepped back as the majority of the coven moved to surround the former heir of their House, each witch looking more dangerous than the last as they glared across the room, eyes narrowed at their newly proclaimed enemy, Bartemius Crouch.

When Crouch's gaze landed on his sister, he stood up and pointed at her. "You—! Camilla! Camilla!"

Camila sighed, watching as her brother fought his way forward, wand in hand. "Someone should give him a book on old magics and etiquette. He knows better. Mother would be beside herself. He's liable to get himself killed." Before he could do just that, she flicked her wand, stunning the idiot. "Let's get out of here before this place turns into an even bigger madhouse."

Belina scoffed at the ungraceful way that Crouch collapsed. "You were raised by the same parents?"

"Barty's always been a bit touched," Camilla said before closing in around Sirius on one side with Belina.

Cassie turned to look at Dorea, who nodded her head once. The coven reacted swiftly, shifting out the door and into a private room with Sirius in tow; only Cassie and Minerva remained behind with Dorea to face the minister, the Wizengamot, and the press.