Back to the Ministry

Sirius spent most of the next couple of days moping about the house, popping into Dumbledore's fire to check on the lack of ministry progress, and stealing hours where he could with Harry.

He was more than a little impressed with his godson's patience. Though he did ask how the case with the ministry was going, Sirius could tell he was trying not to bring it up too often. Sirius found himself overwhelmed by the sensitivity of the boy, a trait he had certainly inherited from Lily, and vowed to re-double his efforts with the ministry.

His mind was still on Harry as he busied himself preparing dinner the night before his interview. In fact, Harry's patience had put him to shame slightly. He realised, with uncomfortable self-deprecation, that while Harry might not show his frustrations as much as Sirius did on the surface, they were nonetheless felt just as intensely. If Harry was able to grin and bear it without losing his head, then surely, as an adult, Sirius ought to be able to as well.

He turned as Remus made his way into the kitchen. He was looking much better now a few days had passed since the full moon. The bags under his eyes had all but vanished, and the colour had returned to his face.

He thanked Sirius for cooking and the pair of them sat down at the table to eat.

"You want to be careful Padfoot," Remus said after a while as he helped himself to another baked potato. Sirius was glad to see his friend's appetite had returned. "I spoke with Dumbledore earlier. Apparently Lucius has been quite vocal in the ministry… He's not at all convinced you're innocent, you know."

Sirius had heard all this from Dumbledore, prior to his meeting with Fudge, and then of course from Malfoy himself... "Ah, Lucius," he said waving a hand dismissively. "He's just licking his wounds." In truth, he wasn't completely convinced of this, but he quickly stuffed down any residual concerns.

"I'm not sure…" Remus said warily. "Until Peter confesses, the ministry's only operating off common sense in letting you go free… And who knows how long it will take before that runs out?"

That much was certainly true, Sirius thought derisively. "I expect Dumbledore's influence still outweighs Malfoys though." He reasoned, spearing a broccoli with his fork.

"Only as long as Dumbledore himself remains in good favour," Remus pressed. "I'm not saying they're about to throw you back in Azkaban or anything, just, please, be careful. Don't do anything rash."

Sirius grinned at his friend. "I should get that tattooed on my chest," he said.

When Remus continued to look concerned, Sirius sighed. "Don't worry mate," he said reassuringly. "I promise you I have no desire to be thrown back in Azkaban. I'll be on better behaviour this time round. I promise."

He meant it, too. The next morning he followed Dedalus Diggle (who Dumbledore had instructed to accompany him) so compliantly Diggle was forced to keep checking he was still there (he was not as adept as Dumbledore at seeing through the disillusionment charm).

They arrived at the ministry headquarters with time to spare, and Sirius, who had been sucking on a sherbert lemon he'd taken from the reception desk, turned to Diggle.

"You can leave me here if you like," he said to the man. "I'm sure you have stuff you want to be getting on with. Room two hundred and twelve, she said," he said gesturing at the witch on reception as Diggle continued to look worried. "I'm not about to cause any chaos in three corridors."

Diggle looked mollified by that, and so, wishing Sirius good luck for the day ahead, he hurried away.

After he'd gone, Sirius glanced again around the grand marble entrance hall to the ministry. Official looking witches and wizards were rushing to and from their business all around him, none of them paying him the slightest bit of attention. Some were chatting to one another, others silently reading long scrolls of parchment or frantically writing memos as they walked.

Sirius made his way slowly in the direction the witch had indicated. Willing himself not to lose his head this time. The fierce energy that had gripped him during his first few days of freedom had got him nowhere but trouble, and he needed to learn to control himself if was to have any hope at getting Harry back.

Room two hundred and twelve was located at the end of a particularly dingy corridor with blue carpet and faded yellow wallpaper. He wondered what they would ask him in the interview… Would it really just be about Azkaban, as Dumbledore had suggested?

He was just walking past the door labelled two hundred and four when he noticed a tall figure up ahead of him. It was leaning languidly against the wall and seeming to be waiting for something.

The figure turned at his approach, and Sirius was able to identify the man. With a wave of horror he recognised Lucius Malfoy.

"Hello, Sirius," Malfoy said, smiling nastily at him. His animosity for the other man had clearly only worsened since their last encounter. There was nothing put pure hatred etched in his sharp features as he looked Sirius up and down.

Sirius quickly bit down his nerves and tried to ignore his pulse that had started to race again at the sight of the other man. "Good of you to come Malfoy," he said with forced indifference. "Do you stick your nose in everyone's business, or am I a special case?"

Malfoy's smile widened. "I merely wanted to check the Department is managing this case in the correct manner. As its chief financial sponsor, I take great personal pride in how business is run."

He moved forwards to tap on the door in front of them, which swung inwards automatically at his touch.

The room inside was small and dingy. There were no windows, but there was a small wooden desk in the centre of the room, behind which two men were seated.

Sirius recognised one of the men as Dawlish, the wizard who had taken him down to the cells after his attack on Malfoy. The other man, who was portly with a very straight moustache, he didn't know.

"Mr Black - ah, and Mr Malfoy!" The portly wizard got to his feet as he registered Lucius' appearance. "Come in and sit down. Here, let me -"

"No need," Malfoy drawled, extracting his wand and waving it lazily in the direction of the corner of the room, where a large armchair suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

"Ah, good," the man said, sitting down again as Malfoy made his way over to the chair and sunk into it, beady eyes still trained on Sirius.

"Mr Black, I am Mr Bates," the portly man was telling Sirius. "Manager for the Control and Regulation of Azkaban. And this is my colleague Dawlish, of the Auror department."

Sirius nodded his greeting at the men, though it did unnerve him slightly that they had thought it necessary to bring a trained auror to the interview…

"Now," Bates went on. "We'd just like to ask you a few questions… As this case is highly irregular, we do want to be sure we've got all our facts straight. And officially documented," he gestured the parchment and quill in front of him.

"Of course," Sirius said politely. "Whatever you need."

The interview commenced. Bates began by asking Sirius question after question about his actions leading up to the night of 31st October 1981 and the days that followed after it. He let no answer go unchallenged, and seemed determined to paint as full a picture as possible of the scene.

Sirius answered all his questions truthfully, there was no need to do otherwise. But it surprised him how much he struggled to answer some of Bates' more interrogative queries. Why, for example, did he not go straight to the ministry when he found James and Lily's dead bodies. Why did he go tearing off after Pettigrew with no backup? Why, if he knew he was innocent, did he allow himself to be led away without protest?

It hadn't been easy. He'd felt his voice catching in his throat more than once as he went over that fateful night in Godric's Hollow. James' body. Severed from life so completely. A shell of the man who had once been his best friend.

And Lily. Sweet, beautiful Lily. The woman who would have done anything for her husband and son. Anything for anyone really… That was just the kind of witch she had been…

"Thank you, Mr Black," Bates said kindly as Sirius forced himself to look back at them. "And now, I wonder if we might ask you a few questions about your time in Azkaban?"

"Yes, of course," he said and began to tell them, as factually as he was able to, of his twelve years behind bars. He waited for the men to press him on details of his escape, but mercilessly, they didn't ask him anything he could not find at least a partly truthful answer to.

When they finally got to the end of the interview, Sirius felt drained and slightly hot. The little windowless room had grown stuffy and warm as he had talked, and he was beginning to feel a bit light headed.

"Right, that's all for today," Bates said, who seemed to be pleased with how the last hour had gone. "Just one more thing…" He rummaged around on the desk for a while before extracting a piece of parchment from the bottom of a stack of paper. "I need you to sign this."

"What is it?" Sirius asked tiredly, taking the paper from the man.

It looked very official… It had the Ministry of Magic regulation stamp across the top header and was at least five pages long.

"Just regulation," Bates said casually. "Basically says that you agree to our constant surveillance until we can officially clear your name."

Constant surveillance…?

"Am I being watched?"

"I'm sure Dumbledore's already explained it all to you," Bates said. "And I'm sure you understand. We need to monitor your every movements until we can be quite certain we have the right man in custody."

His every movements? Now Dumbledore's insistence upon escorting him everywhere he went made sense. But didn't constant surveillance mean… constant?

"Is someone watching the house?" He asked.

Bates glanced nervously at Dawlish, who too, appeared to be lost for words. "I'm surprised Dumbledore didn't tell you… I thought you'd have known… It was Dumbledore's idea in the first place, after all."

Sirius felt another pang of irritation at the headmaster grip him. This was typical Dumbledore. His lofty way of treating people like pawns in some great game he had concocted…

"I'm not signing it," he snapped as he glared at the parchment, all vows to be polite completely forgotten.

Of course he'd understood Dumbledore needing to escort him to and from the ministry, but watching him at home?! He wondered if this had been why the man was so keen to see him back in Grimmauld Place now…

Bates and Dawlish exchanged another nervous glance. "Mr Black…" Bates started.

But they were interrupted at that moment by a loud knock on the door. Without waiting for invitation, a tall man in long ministry robes came crashing into view.

"Bates. Come quickly," he said, casting a commanding glance at the man as he entered the room. "Lucius! Very good," he added as he spotted Malfoy.

Then his eyes caught Sirius. And he froze where he stood.

Sirius stared back at Barty Crouch. The years had not been kind to him. His face was prematurely lined, his hair and moustache flecked generously with grey. He appeared to be completely lost for words as he took in Sirius' gaunt appearance.

"Hello Crouch," Sirius said bitterly. He regretted his promise to himself more than ever as he swallowed the insults that had surfaced upon sight of the man. "Surprised to see me?"

Mr Crouch quickly recovered himself. "Not as such, Black," he said turning to face the others again. "We've made progress with the case," he said as the two ministry officials got hastily to their feet, and as Malfoy rose slowly. "Bates, we need you downstairs now. Malfoy, of course you may join us. Dawlish, perhaps you might bring Black? This timing could actually work perfectly..." He added with a snide look at Sirius.

Sirius followed in confusion as he was led by Dawlish after the others and out of the room

He couldn't think where they were going… If he'd had to guess he would say they were moving into the basement. Where they kept the cells. Where the courtrooms were… Crouch had said something about the 'case'? Did they mean his case? Surely they did if he had given the instruction for Sirius to be brought there too...

Crouch was moving quickly and purposefully as he led them further and further downstairs. He said nothing to any of them as they moved. Their surroundings were becoming darker now. The bright marble that filled the atrium slowly replaced by cold, hard stone.

They didn't stop until they reached a large, wooden door. It had black iron bindings across it, and looked very imposing indeed.

He felt suddenly very vulnerable. Here he was, practically alone with two known adversaries, both of whom held very high status in the ministry. Crouch in fact had been the man who'd had such power as to send him to Azkaban without a trial... His previous cavalier attempts to fight the might of the ministry suddenly felt incredibly foolish.

Crouch reached forwards and heaved the door inwards, a loud creak echoing around them as it shifted.

Sirius followed as he was led forwards, into what looked like an enormous courtroom, proving his earlier suspicions right.

Though the space was huge, with dozens upon dozens of wooden benches, there appeared to be just two people in the room.

They were sitting in the very centre, where a round open stone space separated a large high table from a chair opposite.

Sirius recognised Dolores Umbridge at once. She was seated in the centre of the table, her toad-like face alight with happiness as she took in the new arrivals. To her right sat Amelia Bones, who Sirius knew to be a member of the Department of Law Enforcement, working under Crouch.

Crouch and Bates moved swiftly over to join them on the table, the sound of their shoes on stone echoing abruptly throughout the cavernous room.

Sirius saw Malfoy shift too. He was smiling indulgently at someone and he began to move forwards. Not to the table where the others were sitting, but to the chair opposite...

Dawlish led Sirius further into the room too, steering him over to a bench between the high table on his left and the ornate wooden chair on his right, which suddenly came into clear view.

He hadn't noticed there was a third person in the room at first. As the chair's high, wooden back had been facing the main door, she had been obscured from vision.

But he recognised the woman immediately. A cold, wave of horror filling the very pit of his stomach as she turned to face him.

She was sitting very straight indeed. Her spine barely touching the back of the chair. Her long blonde hair fell elegantly down her back and there was a look of cold disdain on her face as she looked at Sirius.

It was Narcissa.