AN: I only own Swara.

Chapter 10

I had always hated the Ministry headquarters. It was too dark, too gloomy for my taste. The Department of Mysteries was worse. It was as if they had decided that to fit the name, the place had to be lined with black brick and filled with smoke.

Marcia Fletcher, Head of the Unspeakables, was sitting across from me, a frown on her face. "I'm sorry, do you or do you not want to continue working, Swara?"

I sighed, rubbing my face. "Look Marcia, I'd like a leave of absence. I just don't think I can focus on work right now."

"But you want to come back eventually?"

"Yes."

"When?"

I hesitated, not sure of the answer myself. "I'm not sure. A year, two years?"

A perfectly groomed eyebrow shot up. "That's an awfully long leave of absence, Swara."

"Please, Marcia. I need the time away, but I love my job here. I just don't think I'll be a good addition to the team right now," I pleaded.

My boss softened and gave me a small smile. "Well, I can't put you down for a leave of absence that long, but I can say you are working remotely for a couple of years."

"That'd be wonderful, Marcia! Thank you!" I smiled widely at her, and she laughed.

"Don't worry about it. I don't want to lose my best worker, after all. But you will have to be working on something. That's the only way I can justify this."

I nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, I will. I'll keep you updated on the progress."

We both stood up, and she walked over to me, locking me in a tight hug. "Take as much time as you need to heal."

I dumbly nodded, touched by her affection and concern. Marcia and I were friends but not the kind that spent time together outside of work. It was warming to see that I still had people who cared about me.

After we broke away, I walked towards my office. Although the floor had no windows (another thing to keep up the Unspeakable image), there was artificial sunlight at one end of the hall. Apparently, working in dark conditions is not good for employee morale. Naturally, I chose my office to be close to this magical sunlight. As I rounded the corner, I saw the soft golden light hitting my closed door.

Everything looked the same. I guess that's what was most surprising. After everything had changed, not a file was out of place in my office. The silver pen Remus gave me was still on the table where I had hastily left it last time. The cactus, a gift from James ("You should have a gift that matches your personality, Swara!"), loomed in the corner where I had shoved it upon receiving it. The three photographs had a small layer of dust on it that I quickly wiped off.

From the first, smiling up at me with his gums was baby Harry at 3 months. I watched as he giggled, the sound imprinted in my heart. The second was a picture of my parents and I, out at dinner. And the last was of a lazy morning under the tree at Hogwarts. I gathered all the pictures, files, records of my research, the cactus, the pen, and everything else before I Evanesco-ed them to a safe place.

I walked out of the room, face to face with the magical sunlight again. It was an extraordinary piece of magic. Marcia had invented the spell herself, and I wished she had told me the incantation. We could all use a little light in our lives.

I Apparated to Ottery St. Catchpole, location of my new residence. After what had happened, there was no way I was going to live in Remus' apartment. Staying in my first apartment was out of the question. The scent of Sirius still lingered there.

Though I wasn't going to live in either, I couldn't sell them. There were too many memories associated with both that I decided to keep them. Merlin knows I have enough money for it anyways.

But Ottery St. Catchpole was nice. Quaint. A kind of place I'd always wanted to live, surrounded by nature rather than tall buildings fighting for space. There was peace here.

I had brought over my stuff from the London apartment. I had packed Sirius' stuff in boxes because, although I couldn't bear to see evidence of the life he had that was taken away, I couldn't leave memories of him behind. I left Remus' stuff in his apartment, hoping against reason that he'd come back and need to use it. I did nick his blanket though. It was warm and smelled so distinctly Remus (a mix of chocolate and cinnamon), that I couldn't resist.

It didn't take long to set up the new place. Magic was useful like that, and within a couple of hours, I had a furnished house.

Knock-knock-knock. I tensed, a result of years of vigilance. "Hello, dear! I'm your neighbor, Sara Diggory!"

Diggory. There was a Diggory at the Ministry. Could this be his wife? After all, Diggory is not a common surname. I opened the door. Mrs. Diggory was a short woman with a gentle smile.

"Hello, dear. I'm Sara. Perhaps you know my husband, Amos?"

"Ah yes! Hello, Mrs. Diggory. I didn't know there were magical families in this area!" I exclaimed, pleased at the discovery. "Please come in."

She beamed, and that's when I noticed the small child clinging to her legs. Oh, he was adorable. I crouched down. "And who might you be?"

He hid his face in his mother's skirt, and she laughed. "Cedric, say hello to Ms. Patel."

His face peeked out. "Hello, Ms. Patel."

I laughed. "He's very sweet, Mrs. Diggory."

She smiled the smile of a proud parent. I led them to the living room. "Yes, he's a true gentleman, my Cedric."

"Are there other magical families in the area?" I asked, passing her some tea as well as cookies for Cedric.

"No, we're the only ones. The Weasleys don't live too far from here though. Cedric and their two eldest play sometimes, although it's been a while since we've been able to make a trip." I read the subtext. Because of Voldemort, it had been a while.

I had fond memories of Arthur Weasley from my first couple of years at Hogwarts. He was so curious about Muggles and was not afraid to show it.

"That's nice. I knew Arthur in Hogwarts. I hear he works in the Ministry as well?"

"Oh yes," she said, wiping Cedric's mouth, "He's in the Muggle Artifact Use and Misuse Office. What about you, Swara? What do you do as an Unspeakable?"

"Well, if I could tell you, it wouldn't really be called Unspeakable, would it?" I joked.

We laughed. This felt nice. Peaceful and…domestic in a way that I had never experienced.

My attention drifted over to Cedric. He was only a few years older than Harry, and I felt the familiar pang in my chest as I thought of my godson.

"Alright, Swara. I'll leave you to get settled in. This one needs his nap as well," Sara said, getting up to leave.

"Of course. I wouldn't want little Ced to miss his nap," I said, grinning down at the boy. Cedric gave me a shy smile. "Please visit again though, Sara. This was nice."

"Oh I will. I don't think I can keep Cedric away from those cookies of yours."

We hugged, and I gave Cedric a kiss on the cheek before they left.

Glancing at the clock, I saw there were still a few hours until supper. Dumbledore would be in his office at this time. I grabbed my wand and Apparated, appearing in Hogsmeade a few seconds later.

Grasping at the brick wall, I steadied my balance. Probably due to my asthma, I was never able to Apparate without having to take a few seconds after to recover from the feeling of being squeezed through a tube at high velocities.

Brooms were so much better.

I had not visited Hogsmeade in years. Surveying the bright lights and laughter around me, so different from the suspicious glances and early closing times from my 6th and 7th year, I was once again reminded that I should be celebrating Voldemort's demise, as the rest of the Wizarding World was.

Raucous laughter from the Three Broomsticks and the out-of-tune singing I could hear, the gentle fall of snow, the cobbled walkways, all these were reminders of Hogwarts, of friendship, of happiness. How many times had we walked these very streets, holding up a sloshed Sirius and laughing loudly?

I wiped away the snowflakes from my cheeks only to find tears instead.

Pull yourself together this instant, Swara. You're meeting Dumbledore. I took in a deep breath and walked on, determinedly looking away from the bustling shops.

The gate was open, and I practically ran to the entrance, waving quickly to Hagrid.

"Where'd ye think yer going?" came a nasally voice. Ugh. That voice I could recognize in my dreams. Filch.

"I have a meeting with the Headmaster," I replied, staring the caretaker right in his squinted eyes.

Those same eyes widened when he got a good look at me. "You! Why've you come back, eh? To cause more trouble?" he shouted.

I stared at him coolly. "As I said, I have a meeting with the Headmaster."

"I'll be damned if you do! This is another elaborate prank of yours, more likely!"

"Listen, Filch. I have a meeting with Dumbledore, and he'll be upset if I'm late. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be going." I made to walk away, but he grabbed my hand.

I looked down at the offending limb. "Release me, or you'll regret it."

"What you're going to hex me?" he challenged. "You ain't going nowhere until the Headmaster says you're telling the truth!"

"I'm not going to hex you, but don't be surprised if the students find out that the scary Mr. Filch is a Squib," I threatened.

He paled. I could see the cogs working in his mind, evaluating the validity of the threat. "I hope you haven't forgotten the time when my mates and I strung your knickers up for the whole hall to see."

The effect was instantaneous. "Get away with you!"

I smiled to myself, giving him a sardonic wave before setting off towards Dumbledore's office.

The impressive knocker greeted me. "Lemon pop," I tried. Nothing. "Cockroach Cluster." No change. "Strawberry sherbet." "Chocolate frog." It moved finally, and the stairs rotated. I was face to face with the door, and suddenly, I felt choked, as if water was filling in my lungs. Everything, everything depended on this conversation.

I knocked. "Professor Dumbledore, it's Swara."

There was silence on the other end, and I wondered if perhaps I had miscalculated. Maybe Dumbledore was out somewhere, but then I heard, "Come in, dear."

The office was the same as when I saw it 7th year. There were some more knick-knacks, but that was usual in his office. Fawkes was perched on the stand, looking at me with curiosity.

"What can I do for you, Swara?" Dumbledore asked.

I sat down across from him, instantly regretting putting myself so close to that penetrating gaze. My knee started bobbing up and down, and I was internally glad that he couldn't see my anxiety.

"Professor, I've come to talk to you about Harry and Sirius," I started. "And please just hear me out."

He nodded.

"As I'm sure you've already guessed, I've visited the Dursleys a few times." I assessed his face for any sign of disappointment, but it was as attentive and impassive as before. "Petunia doesn't give him the care he needs. He spends the day alone, except when she gives him food. No one talks to him, Professor, and he's not happy." I was perched as a hawk on their windowsill when I saw Harry reach out to Petunia. I was witness when she looked away from him, turned her nose up, and walked away. I saw when my godson's face scrunched up in confusion at her lack of affection.

I didn't relay this to Dumbledore, but he seemed to understand from my choked voice. "Here, have some water, Swara."

I drank a gulp before continuing. "You've said it's important for him to stay with Petunia. I know you wouldn't say that if you didn't have a good reason, Professor, but I don't think it's right to leave him in an abusive household. There's never a reason good enough for that, sir," I said, my voice getting stronger and more firm with each word.

"Even if it was the matter of his survival?" This is what I hated about Dumbledore. The thinly veiled questions, for one, but also the lack of understanding. Merely surviving was not the same as living.

"Sir, there's more to living than simply not dying. To be raised in a house where there's no love, that's not life, sir. Every child deserves a home where he is cherished and loved and appreciated. A place where you are given food and a roof but no love is not a home. It's a shelter."

He pondered this for a moment. "You make valid arguments, Swara, and I understand your concern, but it's the matter of his safety. I haven't been completely honest with you about Lily's death and how Harry came to have that scar."

I immediately tensed. "What do you mean?"

He sighed, rubbing his eyes, which was in itself shocking. Even after long Order meetings, Dumbledore never showed his exhaustion. "Voldemort gave Lily a choice to live. He only wanted Harry. He told her to step aside."

I cursed, not caring where I was. "But why would he do that? She was a Muggleborn."

"That, I cannot tell you." Seeing that I was about to protest, he raised his hand. "You'll have to trust me on that, Swara."

I motioned for him to continue. "Naturally, she refused, sacrificing herself to save her son. That sacrifice, her love, is what protected Harry from the Killing Curse. Lily's blood protects him, and that is why he must stay with Petunia, for you know as well as I that Voldemort has not been vanquished."

I didn't doubt him. Love was a magic of its own, but there was something nagging me. "Well, what about James? He sacrificed himself as well. How come Harry and Lily weren't protected?" I demanded.

"I cannot claim to know exactly why, but I have a guess, and as you know, my guesses are usually quite good." A small smile at that. "Voldemort did not give James a choice, like he did with Lily. While James' sacrifice was brave and noble, Voldemort likely intended to kill him anyways. That was not the case with Lily. She died though she didn't need to."

"I still don't understand why he wouldn't kill Lily, a Muggleborn!" It made no sense for the man who was the biggest bigot to spare a Muggleborn.

"As I said, Swara, I cannot tell you exactly why without betraying someone's confidence. Know this though, Voldemort was not planning on killing Lily the moment he found out about the prophecy. Why that is, I cannot tell you."

I restrained myself from grabbing my hair in frustration. "Okay, so Harry has to stay with Lily because Petunia shares her blood to keep him safe?"

He nodded, and I continued. "But there are other measures of safety, Professor. We can put charms around the house, we can stay away from the Wizarding World until he's ready to attend school, we can do the Fidelius…"

Dumbledore gave me the same smile I'd been seeing a lot on his face lately. "That's what we did for Lily and James as well, Swara." And look at how that turned out, was the unspoken second part. You still couldn't protect your friends.

I looked down at the floor, ashamed of myself, but in my heart, I knew James and Lily would hate if Harry was staying with Petunia.

"Visitation hours then?" I asked.

"Hmm…what would that entail?" he asked.

From the sheer joy of not being shot down, I started rambling enthusiastically. "He can come live with me on the weekends. I've already put protection spells around the house. If you'd like, we can Fidelius it too! I won't tell him about the Wizarding World if you don't want me to!" In the back of my mind, I recognized how desperate I sounded, as if he was my master, but I didn't care. If I could have Harry for a few hours, I would do anything that Dumbledore asked. "I can set up a new house as well. Anything, sir, I can do anything."

I sucked in a breath, waiting to see how he responded. My fingers subconsciously starting peeling skin, and I was glad that it was hidden by the large mahogany desk.

"Alright, we can try it."

I stopped breathing, and in my shock, I accidently peeled the skin too hard and felt blood. It didn't matter though. Nothing mattered. "What?" I stammered.

He continued as if he hadn't heard me. "Give it a few months though, at least until the Death Eaters are caught, and then you can start. I think that-"

"Are you serious?" I blurted out.

Dumbledore, taking in my incredulous expression and the desperation, gave me a gentle smile. "Yes, Swara. I agree that depriving him of a loving family is wrong, even if it's for his safety. But I'd like you to wait for a few months until the Death Eaters have been rounded up, okay?"

I nodded slowly, still in disbelief.

"Oh, I'd also like you to stop visiting Privet Drive. The Death Eaters know you, Swara, and I don't want them to know Harry's location or connection to you." The stern expression was back, but I barely registered it. For the first time, I felt hope sprouting in my heart like a newly planted tree. I would get to see Harry. I would get to take care of him, to shower him with love. I would have the chance to fulfill my role as godmother.

Godmother.

Bursting with elation, I had forgotten that I needed to talk to Dumbledore about Sirius as well. Looking back at the Headmaster, I gauged his expression.

"There is one other thing I wanted to address," I said slowly, watching his face.

He sighed. "I know what you want to talk about, dear. I think I've made myself clear about that particular topic."

Taking that as neither encouragement or discouragement, I plowed ahead. "With all due respect, sir, how can you, a member of the Wizengamot, think it's fair to convict a man without even a trial?"

"Sirius confessed, Swara. He did so in front of me and 13 other Ministry officials, including Alastor. Witnesses, both Muggle and magical, have seen him blowing up the street and killing Peter. They've seen Peter accuse him, and he responded by laughing, Swara. Laughing."

I shook my head vigorously. No, no, no, no. That was not Sirius. That was not my Sirius. This maniacal man was not the smirking, rebellious, loyal Sirius I knew.

"I'm afraid you didn't know the real Sirius, Swara." I hadn't realized I said that aloud. "I know it's a shock for you. The man you thought you knew turned out to be completely different, but that's the truth. The sooner you accept it, the faster you can move on."

"Move on? Move on? I will never be able to move on, sir. My parents are gone. James and Lily are gone. Remus is gone. Sirius is gone. How can I move on? What do I have to move on for?" I shouted.

"And that matter at hand is not whether or not Sirius is innocent. I seem to be the only person to believe that anyways. The matter is the flaws in our justice system. The matter is that they took a man to Azkaban without a trial! The matter is that man is being tortured every minute, every second of the day!" I calmed myself down. My outburst would not help Sirius. "All I'm asking for is a trial. Surely, the Ministry can't deny a trial?"

Dumbledore, who had not moved a muscle, responded, "They won't be able to accommodate a trial, Swara. Barty's very busy with catching Death Eaters right now."

His nonchalance twisted my gut, and I wanted to rip those disapproving portraits behind him off the wall. Taking a deep breath, I said, "Okay, but what about in a few months? Surely then His Supreme Greatness Barty Crouch will have time for a trial?"

Dumbledore hesitated, and I grew suspicious. What was he hiding?

"What is it?"

There. That pause again. "You have to understand the subtle politics of the situation, Swara."

"I don't understand what you're alluding to, sir." But I did. I just wanted him to say it out loud. I wanted him to share that shameful and downright disgusting idea out loud.

"If he's given a trial, that shows a blunder on the Ministry's part. Sirius is now a notorious murderer, and if the Ministry gives him a trial, they'll lose support. The situation will become fragile." He said the words.

I strared at him, not bothering to hide my blatant disgust. "You're willing to sacrifice an innocent man for the sake of politics? I-"

He held up a hand. "Sirius Black is not an innocent man, Swara. If you'd like to see my memory of the confession, you can, but he is not an innocent man."

I shot out of my chair. "So what, he's not deserving of a trial? The other Death Eaters all had trials! And Snape! Snape didn't need a trial! Why not Sirius? Is it because he's a Black? Is that why?"

"It's because he's a murderer! He killed your best friends and orphaned your godson! That's the man you're so insistent on defending! A killer! You're disgracing James' and Lily's memory" Dumbledore snapped.

My face paled in shock, and I took a few steps backwards. Judging by the alarmed expression on his face, he regretted his words, but it didn't matter. They were said. And he meant them as well. The truth was out.

"Swara-" he started, quite possibly with the intention to apologize, but I was already out the door, racing down the steps, out the hall.

The moment I passed the school boundaries, I Apparated.

I gasped for air, the hurt combining with my asthma to make the experience more difficult than normal. Rain hit my face, whipping my hair all around my head.

In front of me was the impenetrable fortress. Azkaban.