Not mine, don't sue.

(with a special guest appearance.)

Raising Harry- part 4

The shackles weighed heavy and harsh on his wrists. The grime had been scraped away on the short trip from Azkaban revealing red raw skin. The warmth from the trickle of blood startled him at first, but soon it lead to a resolve. His skin had broken, but he never would. The crimson trickle ran down his thumb. He looked down with grey eyes and saw that his hands were shaking. Above him the eyes of the Wizangamot like sparks in the firmament.

Bound and on trial Sirius Black hadn't felt this free in years.

…

Bleary eyes and bacon and eggs don't mix. Remus learned this the hard way. It was his and Harry's first breakfast in their new cottage. He tried not to swear when he cut himself. He wrapped his left index finger in the nearest tea towel, the blood soaking through. He reached for the box of sticking plasters but his slender fingers merely scrabbled against the box and it hit the floor with a mocking thud. Remus sighed. He raised his eyes to the heavens. When he looked down again a tiny hand held a plaster out to him. Soon the tiny hands held his left hand tenderly and helped Remus to stem the flow. Harry kissed the plaster.

Remus looked down at the boy, his heart as free as a bird.

…

Sometimes the cat came. Sometimes he wished that he had the guts to throw himself into the light when it did. End it all. He found it hard enough having nine fingers but the constant fear and isolation were an added torture. Even here, among the rats, Wormtail was an outcast. He gripped at the slippery seed, small, browning fibres hung forlornly from the jagged pip. At the end of the day food was food and he was so hungry. A warning squeal came from somewhere to his left. He pushed himself further into the wall, the seed abandoned, as the shadow drowned him in darkness.

It wasn't just the cat that kept him captive.

…

The Auror to his left was Kingsley Shacklebolt. His robes were purple and impossibly clean next to Sirius' filthy rags. The huge auror had said only a few things to Sirius, each time his voice measured and calm. Mad-Eye Moody was to his right, his eye had been swivelling madly but was now still as it made contact with Sirius' grey orbs. Sirius stared back, a haughty expression that was the hallmark of his bloodline writ large across his face. Mad-eye held the look for a long time before he shook his head and looked away. Above and around him the sombre robes of the Wizangamot were a wall. Someone tripped Sirius as he stepped toward the chair. Mad-eye reached out a hand and caught him before he fell. Somehow the look that passed between the two aurors told Sirius that this was no mere accident, it was a reminder of the lightning reflexes of his captors. He was pushed down into the chair. He looked up into the eyes of the greatest wizard the world had ever known. Dumbledore seemed to fill the room.

The ice of the blue eyes was as cold as a night near the dementors, but Sirius' heart coursed hot blood through his veins and he knew that soon all would be revealed. He tried not to smile.

…

The roof seemed to sag a little in the middle and one of the gutters had more holes than actual gutter. The kitchen was small and cramped. The floorboards were worn and comforting. The furniture was a mish-mash of patterns, colours and textures. Remus' favourite was the bed with the lions head. He couldn't help but think that James would approve of that bed for Harry. The boy had a small toy box in the sitting room beside Remus' bookshelf. His tiny boots sat beside the front door next to Remus' worn shoes. Everywhere Remus looked he saw Harry. Every minute he rediscovered a piece of himself. He sat at the table now, his and Harry's breakfast in hand. The little boy smiled up at him, his glasses on a sleepy angle and his black hair pointing in all directions.

Remus smiled as the boy took his first mouthful of scrambled eggs. The hand with the plaster reached out with a clean tea towel and wiped a little piece of egg off the side of the boy's mouth.

…

This time the shadow seemed to be there forever. The crush of the rats was almost unbearable as they scrambled to stay away from the swiping yet lazy claws. Wormtail looked once more at the abandoned peach stone and again around the cramped space. It was always damp, the fur of what seemed like a thousand rats all grey and black and brown. A sea of rough fibres. He turned his eyes to the stone wall, mould and mildew had been scraped off by hungry yellow teeth and rough tongues long ago. Finally he saw a flurry as the claw found an unwary target. The terrifying yellow eyes and the flash of teeth as the feline crushed down on its prey. The red on its maw and the struggling of the unlucky rat. Soon the shadow fell away. Wormtail sniffed the air and made a decision. His dinner had been claimed by another.

There was no safety in numbers. He looked at the pit one last time before he turned his nose to the outside world and ran. His eyes filled with light, his heart with despair.

…

Kingsley's massive hands held the small vial. With slow assurance he unstoppered the bottle and held it gently to Sirius' lips. Sirius swallowed the clear liquid. It was neither hot or cold and it had no flavour. He felt almost instantly drowsy. The veritaserum made its way down to his toes, his feet feeling even heavier. The eyes above watched him patiently yet they were filled with suspicion. Sirius waited. He'd waited this long, and very soon they would all know.

Kingsley took away the vial. He took his place beside Mad-eye behind Sirius' chair. Sirius swallowed once more. Dumbledore began.

…

Remus savoured the salty crunch of the bacon. It was crispy and his toast was slightly burned with a little more butter than was necessary- just the way he liked it. He chewed quietly, trying not to stare at Harry too much. He took a sip of tea, the hot liquid traced a line beneath his chest. He took a deep breath and surveyed his new life.

His knife scraped against the plate putting his teeth a little on edge. His grimace turned to a grin when he noticed Harry blowing bubbles in his milk.

…

He could taste nothing but the metallic tang of fear and the cold of desperation. It had been so long since his last meal. His tiny claws scrabbled on the path. He kept a lookout for any predators and ran. Soon he came to a ramshackle house, a berry bush between him and its tumbledown fence. He stopped and with hungry hands snatched a berry from the bush. The juice was sweet and rich. His tastebuds were impatient and the first taste of food did nothing but make his stomach ache worse than before.

He sucked and chewed at the fruit. Ignoring the shocked rumble of his belly and not hearing the quiet footfalls behind him.

…

"Sirius Black, this trial by veritaserum was called and so has assembled to examine your culpability in the deaths of Peter Petigrew,James and Lily Potter and several others. You have taken the veritaserum willingly and will answer any and all questions put to you by this court. Do you understand?" Dumbledore's voice was forceful and stern.

"Yes." Sirius' voice was clear and crisp despite his drowsiness.

"You called this trial yourself, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I was granted one demand when I renounced any and all claim on The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry James Potter. This is what I picked."

"Are you saying that you are not responsible for their deaths? That you didn't kill them?" A woman to Dumbledore's right asked.

"Mrs Bagshott, I am responsible for their deaths', a ripple of assured scandal swept around the room, 'but I did not kill anyone." The ripple stopped. Many of the eyes above him were wide.

"Explain how that could be, Mr Black." Dumbledore restored the proceedings.

"I admit that I am responsible for the deaths of James and Lily Potter. I was supposed to be their secret keeper when they went into hiding. I was supposed to take their secret and die if necessary to protect it. I felt that maybe I was the obvious choice and suggested James get another secret keeper, someone that they would never suspect. Someone others might think weak. We were wrong about his weakness, and his loyalty and you are wrong about his death."

"Who was the secret keeper?" Dumbledore asked, his voice low yet strong.

"Peter Pettigrew." The oxygen in the room seemed to disappear.

"Peter Pettigrew and thirteen others died by your hand." A voice behind him called. Sirius directed all of his answers to the blue eyed man.

"No, I didn't. When I saw that James and Lily were dead, and that I had led them to an agent of the Voldemort I was consumed with anger and grief. I sought out a man I had once called friend. I wanted to kill him, I don't deny it, but I failed. When I confronted Peter he must have been waiting for me. He screamed that his deeds were mine and there was a thunderous explosion."

"You killed him. All you left was a finger." The same voice yelled.

"No. He cut his finger off and escaped. I saw him scurrying away down the sewer."

"Scurrying? How?" Dumbledore asked, waving aside disbelieving sounds around him.

"Peter Pettigrew, James Potter and I have been animagus' since our fifth year at Hogwarts."

"What?"

"Remus Lupin is a werewolf. He was our best friend, we loved him so and we couldn't stand to see the injuries after each full moon. A captive werewolf will tear itself to pieces to sate its bloodlust. James took the form of a stag, he was big enough to control Remus if he got out. I was a black dog, I would run and chase Remus.' The Wizangamot was filled with quiet faces, all serious, some sympathetic, 'Peter was a rat, we needed someone small enough to get past the whomping willow."

"The whomping willow?"

"The entrance to the passage that leads to the shrieking shack." It was Dumbledore's voice that answered the question this time.

"I am responsible for the wrong decision. A decision that cost someone I considered a brother his life and the life of his beautiful wife. I sought blood but have never spilled any." Sirius hung his head, suddenly tired. The Wizangamot erupted into dozens of voices.

Dumbledore sat silently watching the crumpled young man, the heavy shackles pulling on his wrists.

…

"Mooey. Can we get a dog?"

"A dog?"

"Yeah. I like dogs."

"I'm not sure about that Harry. I don't think it's a good idea just yet."

Harry pushed his eggs around his plate, some fell onto the table next to it.

"Aunt Tuney wouldn't let me have a dog either. She didn't like them. Don't you like dogs?"

"I like dogs fine –"

"Like Padfoot?"

Remus froze and stared at Harry. He figured he was stupid to think that Harry would remember him but not Sirius.

"How are your eggs?"

"Getting cold." Harry made a frown and stared at his eggs.

"Padfoot is gone. Maybe one day you can get a dog, but not just yet, okay?"

"Okay."

"Don't be sad, Harry."

"M'not."

Remus smiled a sad smile, Harry looked up and saw it. He was about to say something when Remus flung a piece of egg. It hit Harry on the scar. The boy squealed in delight and threw some egg back.

Remus and Harry's laughter blended together, and the kitchen slowly filled with egg.

…

The small boot caught the rat just under his rib.

"Get away from my berries!" the gnome growled, kicking the rat again.

Wormtail clung to the berry and tried to get away but the gnome seemed to move impossibly fast. He ran for the fence. He squeezed beneath it and thought he was free when the boot caught him again. The boot hitting his ribs made a thud. Just when he thought this might be the end a small chubby hand grabbed him around the middle. The gnome was held in the boys other hand.

"Get off him!" the boy said in a serious, bossy tone. He spun the gnome by its feet and it flew over the fence. The little boy had a shock of ginger hair. His freckled finger stroked Wormtail's side gently.

"Poor little guy, that mean old gnome… I think I'll keep you. You look hungry."

"What've you got there, Percy?" another red headed child sauntered up.

"Bill, this is my new rat."

"Looks sick, mate. Should you be holding him?"

"He's not sick, he just got bashed by a gnome."

"Oh. What's his name?"

"Ummm… Scabbers."

Just before he lost consciousness Wormtail wished the kid had thought up a different name.

…

The voices in the cavernous room suddenly died when Dumbledore held up a hand.

"Sirius Black, for sixteen months you were an inmate at Azkaban. This trial has uncovered a gross injustice. This court finds you an innocent man. Veritaserum does not lie and neither did you. Though a few minor offences seemed to have been perpetrated, you will henceforth be registered as an amimagus and you are now free to go."

Sirius looked up at the man, his face a study in sorrow, Sirius gave him a reassuring nod. His hands felt suddenly lighter. He looked down to see that the shackles had disappeared. There was a warmth and his raw and broken skin was healed. He looked up and saw that Mad-eye was talking to him.

He didn't hear what he said, instead he fell to the floor, exhausted, relieved and free.

Finally free.

…

Next chapter up soon. Feel free to review!