Author: shyangell & MorningDawn
DISCLAIMER: All the fictional characters appearing in this fanfiction story are not mine, they're J.K. Rowling's; and they are being used with the only purpose of personal entertainment.
Chapter Twenty-Four – Leverage
Sirius comes to stand beside Remus. He's on the floor beside Tonks, checking her vitals every now and then.
"He's fine." he says, and Lupin looks at him for a moment with a told-you-so kind of expression. "Voldemort appeared."
"What?"
"Dumbledore duelled him. The Aurors are on their way."
"You should leave." says Remus with a strained voice, Sirius shakes his head.
"I'm tired of running. Let them find me." He surveys the present there, including the pained but conscious Tonks, and instructs:
"If they ask you how many were we; we were only six, understood?"
It doesn't take long for the sound of voices to reach them. The Minister himself, Dumbledore and an eclectic assemble of varied people, who are probably aurors. He doesn't turn to see them enter; instead he chooses to remain with his back to the door and steels himself for the final showdown.
"He… Sirius Black!" comes the shrill sound of the diminutive Minister. "What's he doing here? What's the meaning of this? Dumbedore!"
It must have been shocking. Entering there, all those Death Eaters tied on the floor, and he, the most wanted of them all standing there... free to go. And not doing anything at all about it.
"It is a long story Cornelius, but it appears that the story relayed by Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Granger at the time of his last capture was reliable after all." says Dumbledore calmly.
Sirius turns around very slowly towards the newcomers, and without being quite able to control it, throws them a look of utter contempt. Looking at a tittering Fudge, he knows things can unfold in two ways in the face of his recent discredit: either they take Dumbledore's words at face value in overcompensation or become even more intransigent than before in their eagerness to be proved right about something at least. The Minister looks about to suffer from overload of new information. He's impossibly red on the face and his eyes look about to pop out of his face.
"Black's a raving lunatic!" cries the Minister. "He killed thirteen people! That is just too much, even for your stories, Dumbledore. Arrest him, Williamson!"
He says to the tall slim man with a ponytail that is hovering right behind him.
Williamson is very businesslike, only that Mad-Eye Moddy would've made him chopped steak in less time that it takes to say quidditch, for he doesn't notice that Sirius is still armed; quite the unforgivable mistake in an auror. The binding spell never makes it to Sirius, because without words and even without much of a gesture of his right arm, his magical shield makes the spell rebound back towards Williamson, who has to make an utterly ridiculous dive to avoid it.
The auror scrambles away from him frightened, and Sirius is this close to sneering at him for being taken aback by a simple protego. He knows he must look a fright. His injured arm is still bleeding and it isn't more obvious because his robes are black, but blood drips from his fingers to the floor and is making quite a puddle. He surely will have left a trail in his wake. He is pasty white, pale beyond healthy and his hair is stuck to his face on his right temple, where the dry blood, vibrant red, is a deep contrast with the rest of him. His hair has come loose, with that intrinsic ability that it has to make him look dangerous and angry. He isn't angry, just very tired.
"Arrest him! Arrest him I said! And call for the dementors!" the Minister shrieks some more. "Dumbledore do some...!"
"That's quite enough!" says Dumbledore's with quiet fury. A furious Dumbeldore is quite enough of a rare sight for everyone to fall immediately silent. "The dementors will not be getting involved in this."
"But protocol..."
"Protocol says charges have to be brought first, and witnesses have to last past interrogation." the Headmaster says, talking to Fudge no better than he would a ten-year old. "Sirius here was fighting against Voldemort and if you bother to raise enough witnesses you can confirm that."
"But..."
"I understand the need to arrest him preventively until this is all cleared, but Azkaban doesn't have to be aware of it." Dumbledore says. "You have every right to interrogate him. But only that."
Sirius' throws a fulminating glare to all present, expressing effusively his disagreement over it, but far too relieved by having Dumbledore do something, anything; that he refrains from being directly mutinous.
"Hear him out." says Dumbledore. "And bring him to St. Mungo first, so he can get his injuries looked at." he adds.
"It's nothing professor." he says dismissingly, but Dumbledore ignores him; more than used to stubbornness from his end. Fudge looks more than a little upset.
"Have it your way." he says, and he looks like he just swallowed a lemon. "And what about the rest?"
"The same standard procedure." he says severely, looking over the half-moon spectacles. "But I would appreciate that you did not interrogate my students, Cornelius."
Fudge mutters a half-arsed agreement, and frowns again looking at the captured Death-Eaters.
"Who have we captured? How many?"
"Eleven. They're Lucius Malfoy, Antonin Dolohov, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Matthias Mulciber, Adolph Avery, Walden MacNair, August Rockwood, Winfred Crabbe, Ethan Jugson and Thaddeus Nott. We've checked their identities without the masks." Sirius offers voluntarily, looking askance at the Death Eater pile. "And there's Bellatrix Lestrange, who's missing because she slipped past us."
His sneer of contempt could have competed with the Minister's rictus.
"Thurmond, Davies, Taylor and Harrison, arrest them and drag them to interrogation. Hollis and Carlyle bring the wounded to St. Mungo and assure that the Order of the Phoenix members are interrogated afterwards. Carson, you'll be Black's escort, make sure he makes it to the holding cells, I want a complete interrogation. If there's anything suspicious at all keep him under arrest."
The auror advances cautiously towards Sirius; he almost laughs in his face for his queasy behaviour, but it probably is a wise decision not to. Dunbledore holds out his hand to Sirius, who mutely gives him his wand. Dumbledore hands it to the auror, who is more relaxed when he takes him by the arm.
"You promised me explanations, so they'd better be good." Fudge says crossly at Dumbledore, who nods.
"You may lead."
::::::::::::::
Sirius is sitting on a bench of St. Mungo's Spell Damage Ward. To his almost complete satisfaction, busy wizards pass by him without noticing him. Inside, Tonks is resting after a long late night; it is past midnight now well into early morning, it's apparently taken long hours to properly treat the curse.
"Black!" the ill-tempered close-bearded auror barks commandingly; seemingly having overcome his uneasiness around Sirius. Carson comes from the end of the corridor leading to Emergencies, were he left him; and were Sirius purposefully lost him; looking like all the furies of hell put together. "This is attempted escape!"
"No, it isn't." he says placidly. He's made a point of putting up a non-aggressive resistance, and so far is doing quite well. "In fact I haven't moved from where you left me."
"I left you in your in Magical Emergencies." roars the man.
He still wonders that they left him to be watched by only one auror. Either they're very confident or their security protocols have gone down the drain. Because Sirius knows very well that, had he wanted to, he could be by now halfway to China; he only has to jam his elbow fast enough into that mass of spare tires, leave him well winded, and take the wand. Merlin knows that the auror force doesn't train their people to resist physical struggles. But he's been a good little boy so far so he's still listening to this idiot rant.
"You left me in St. Mungo; and I'm still here."
The auror probably shackles him with too much force, but Sirius is happy enough to see him riled. It gives room to complain about Ministry brutality later on.
::::::::::::::
Dawlish sweeps through the corridors between cubicles by the main office of the Auror Department. He dumps the interrogation transcripts by his table, which now is in a sorry state of disorderliness. The interrogation rooms in level ten are full to bursting with both members of the so-called Order of the Phoenix and Death Eaters. It is a bad business, as the Ministry doesn't have holding facilities outside of Azkaban that have capacity for so many people at once. Luckily, there are many that have passed first through St. Mungo, and they haven't been as catastrophically overcrowded as they could've been. They've had to put courtrooms one and two1 up as guarded make-believe cells and postponed any minor trials scheduled for today.
It is an understatement to say the Magical Law Enforcement Department is in the brink of utter chaos. They're being painstakingly meticulous with this awkward business, as the general sentiment in the Department is that too many mistakes have taken place recently, and the aurors want to get these recent events perfectly straight.
He searches Yates' desk summarily looking for a missing part of a file, before deciding that someone else has already taken it down to level ten.
He's late, and Yates is already waiting for him, with a not too friendly face and the missing file under his arm. Dawlish is tired, confused, and this whole business is so against his very sense of rightness and decency. And then there is this borderline illegal organization of Dumbledore's, this Order of the Phoenix, whose members he is not so sure should be set free as indiscriminately as Scrimgeour is allowing. They have werewolves with them, for the love of Merlin! Not that he thinks Shacklebolt is anything but what he is... a hot-head that needs to be told rules exist for a reason. Comparatively, this Death Eaters are much easier to deal with. Not that any of them have said anything worth so many hours of interrogation.
The interrogation rooms are a clever thing adapted from muggle law enforcement (although the Ministry would prefer their tongues be cut off than admit it) in which there is a small side cupboard with a one way glass that overlooks were the prisoner is being interrogated. He normally enjoys doing the interrogation, but right now he'd give anything to avoid it.
Sirius Black is one heck of a problem. Almost the whole Departement is inclined to admit that although there are some loose ends to his story, the truth appears to be that indeed Black is not a Death Eater. To begin with there is the fact that he doesn't have the Dark Mark. On the other hand, there aren't only a few aurors bent on proving that there was no case of incompetency going on, and that procedures were followed by the time he was imprisoned the first time. That would give them liberty to lock him up again. But in either case there are responsibilities to be dished out.
They've taken him into one of the rooms, and preventively chained to the chair. He's been forced to interrogation under veritaserum. The tales that come out of that mouth are absolutely incredible, and they're all quite frustrated because his answers are fragmentary, not as fulsome as they'd like. He's been watching the previous interrogation rounds by other senior members of the Department and he's beginning to think it is actually possible to fool a veritaserum test. Not that they don't warn aurors about it; but in his ten years of experience in the force he hasn't seen a case where it happened, not even once.
Sirius Black is many things, clever, proud, biting, inconsiderate, non-complacent... irritated, and amused; and he can't quite seem to decide which one to be at this time. He's quite above feeling sorry for the aurors and their headaches. His arm is behaving like a goblin with a grudge. He's been chained up, arms and legs to a chair affixed to the floor, and he can't even scratch, or balance the chair in the air as is his wont when he's bored.
He feels like he's explained the same thing over and over again, which he obviously has, but he distinctly feels like he's been talking to a brick wall. Of course everyone worth their salt knows veritaserum tests can be fooled; he knows it, they know it and provably even Fudge knows it, the incompetent cretin. The effect of the stuff waned ages ago, and making him repeat things over and over won't make him change his statement. He will tell them exactly what he wants, nothing more nothing less.
After all, be it innate talent or not, one only need be mildly capable at occlumancy and aware of it to will himself not to spill inconvenient truths. Omitting facts is, even under veritaserum, disturbingly easy, and lying is still feasible. So far, he deliberately has avoided bringing Regulus up at any moment of the conversation.
This Auror Yates, of middle-age and polite demeanour is merely boring. But the other, younger one, Dawlish, who had airs of greatness is just too pro-Fudge to even be a credible auror.
"Where to begin, Mr Black?" says Dawlish, looking at some notes of other interrogations. "I believe you should clear this thing of your presumed innocence out for us."
Sirius raises a lonely eyebrow. "Again?"
"As many times as we feel necessary to ascertain the facts." The other eyebrow rises to be level with her companion.
"There's nothing to clear up. The only fact you need to check on is that I'm innocent." Dawlish's answer, whatever it is, is cut by the, until then, silent Yates.
"That is precisely the fact that we've come here to ascertain." he says.
"No you haven't." he sneers. "You come here to prove that I am not."
"That is an unjust accusation."
"Trouble for you is, that I am, innocent. And therein lays your dilemma. The more you scratch the more difficult it becomes to prove anything. You've already taken a declaration from every other person liable to confirm it. I bet you even have some from the masked buffoons that say Peter Pettigrew has been sighted."
"However unlikely as that seems, we'll take Professor Dumbledore's vouch on the matter, until further progress is made. This is the reason there are no dementors in the room, if I might remind you."
Sirius face clearly conveys his contempt.
"And there is of course the other matter; that you escaped Azkaban." Dawlish says triumphant. "You didn't follow the proper courses before or after..."
"After? How after...?" Sirius barks. "Please, tell me you don't believe the words you are saying, because that'd be too much. But I see where you are going, Sir."
And there are little things, more disdainful than an overly-polite Sirius Black; he is precisely the kind of man than easily dishes out mockery.
"The Ministry cannot press charges in relation to escaping Azkaban, unless you are a proven criminal, tried and sentenced." he says firmly. "And I wasn't tried."
Dawlish remains silent but seething, while Yates looks at him evaluating him, powerfully interested in a legal loophole that could be either very problematic or heaven-sent solution.
"Barthemius Crouch Sr. raised the Martial Law in December 1980. It wasn't raised until seven months after I was imprisoned." he says. "My case is to be considered as a war crime, if at all. And while many of you thought it quite the clever solution, no trials, quicker procedure, and no legal boundaries for auror squads... you forgot that there are no repercussions for a prisoner trying to escape. It is in fact, expected. I wasn't interrogated, and I wasn't sentenced by a proper court. I was a war prisoner; I had every right to attempt escape. My sentence was a one-man decision. And there can be no legal repercussions about it."
"We could still charge you now; make the proper investigations."
"Good luck to you. You'll find that to be quite difficult. But I'm sure that after several of my previous statements to your other monkey-faced men you have half department working on checking out the rest of it, and I haven't been accused of being a liar yet."
Dawlish scowls at him.
"So, if the interrogation is going to continue down that thread, I suggest you release me, for there really is no reason why I shouldn't be cleared."
"You are absolutely right Mr. Black." says Yates finally, silently shutting Dawlish up. "But we are not finished yet. Perhaps you should start by telling us why where you at the department of Mysteries tonight."
Sirius groans and lets his head fall backwards, unable to quench his need to hit something.
Truth is Yates is convinced that they'll eventually have to let him go; his version of the facts and his innocence has been corroborated by both sides tonight, even the totality of Death Eaters, rather unwillingly besides.
"I've been a member of the Order of the Phoenix since 1978, and when Voldemort returned..." both aurors jump at the name. "...and we were called back, I answered, like most of the original members who are still alive. This evening, I received a message that there had been an ambush from the Death Eaters in the Ministry, and that Harry was there. I responded to the emergency and came here. We came in through one of the personnel entrances."
"That's why the alarms of the Atrium first went off around nine o'clock." says Yates. "Please, do go on."
"Me and four other members of the Order arrived at the Atrium and went towards the Department of Mysteries."
"Which four members?" asks Dawlish brusquely.
"Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt."
"Only them?" asks the auror. "Are you sure there was no one else?" Sirius rolls his eyes.
"Of course I am sure. We entered the Department of Mysteries and we joined the brawl inside the Death Chamber."
"How many Death Eaters were there?" asks Auror Yates.
"Twelve. Want me to tell you their names?" asks sarcastically Sirius.
"That won't be necessary."
"What happened next?" asks the younger auror.
"We fought, Lestrange escaped and Harry followed her to the Atrium, then you came down and found us." says Sirius. "End of story."
"Would you mind specifying who you duelled with?"
"Of course..." sarcasm stained his voice. "…let me think, first it was Rodolphus Lestrange, then I stupefied Dolohov, and finally I engaged myself in a duel with Bellatrix Lestrange, the old bitch, and got my arm almost sliced off." he says rattling the chains on his arm. "And that would be it."
The aurors looked at each other.
"Only them?" asked the older man.
"Yes, absolutely."
"What about Jugson?"
"What about him?"
"You didn't duel with him?"
"No."
"You'll have to stay here for a while." says Yates, and he holds the door open for his companion, as he motions him to follow him out of the room.
Outside, in the matchbox of a cupboard overlooking the room four aurors are crammed inside, more or less; the door open outside and the small table at the back end overflowing with folders and papers.
"I hate interrogating lawyers." Yates says.
"It is an annoyance." Thurmond concurs. "Scrimgeour wants you in his office, now."
"Now?" he says. "Oh damn."
And he leaves, to face the old lion in his den.
"I don't think we'll get much more out of him." says Thurmond, a white haired wizard with a close-cropped beard; looking contemplatively out of the one-way glass. "What do you have from Lupin, Davies?"
The woman named Davies is a portly black woman of almost thirty years, with severe spectacles and very short hair, looks over some notes scribbled hastily.
"Well, according to him, they arrived at the Ministry around 9 o'clock, and found Potter and the Gang struggling with the Death Eaters in the Death Chamber, he said that the battle was totally chaotic but he clearly remembers fighting with Rabastan Lestrange, who he didn't defeat because he lost him, and Malfoy, who was stupefied. He also recalls Sirius Black duelling with Bellatrix Lestrange."
"Which fits with what Malfoy said. And with what Black just said." adds Williamson. "But there's something that doesn't quite add up in Black's statement, because Jugson swears that he overcame him with a stupefying spell."
"Something's wrong for sure, then." Dawlish says crossly.
"The Order's statements fit perfectly well." says Taylor, a reedy and very blond auror with thick glasses.
"Well, Jugson's the discordant note." Thurmond says. "What did the other Death Eaters say?"
"Eeeh... partly, what they say fits with Lupin's and Black's statement, but there's one thing that bothers me." says Davies.
"What?" says Dawlish.
"Malfoy, MacNair and Dolohov claim not to be precisely sure of were exactly Sirius Black was during the brawl: quoting exactly that "he was everywhere" or "I couldn't tell you how he came to attack me from the right when I'd seen him just before straight ahead of me"... that's Dolohov by the way." she says. "Rookwood even said that he thinks he saw Black in two different places at the same time.
"It could be someone under Polyjuice potion." says Dawlish.
"Wait, there's more. Jugson swears it was Black who sent him the last curse."
"And then there's Rabastan Lestrange and Mulciber who say they saw a seventh member of the Order fighting. They can't identify him." says Taylor.
"Him?" Davies says. He shrugs.
"It must have seemed a 'he' to them."
"That's quite impossible." says Williamson impatiently. "Even Dumbledore said that they were six, counting himself."
"And they also say," Davies comments. "that... that seventh member was no other than…" she looks at her notes. "…someone by the name of Regulus Black; who I have no idea who it is and the guys are looking through the Death Eaters-related files right now."
"Could he have something to do with that Black?" asks Williamson, pointing at Sirius Black through the looking glass.
"Certainly." Thurmond says wearily. "They are an old and extended family, although I'm not familiar with that particular name at all."
"I'm not so sure." says Taylor. "Kingsley had me make the background checks for Black two years ago. I remember quite clearly that he had no living family under the surname Black. It might be someone else."
"Maybe we're just wasting our time with this, because it can't be that only Death Eaters saw him." Says Dawlish. "I want to go home."
"Though luck lad." says Thurmond, and hands him a cup of strong coffee. "We're all staying up for another round."
"I know why it reminded me of something." says Williamson tugging at his ponytail. "Wasn't it that case that had McBride obsessed? It's very old."
"I'm sure he must have it somewhere on his desk." says Davies.
"Probably." says Thurmond. "Someone go and ask him about it. Davies, you're coming in with me."
::::::::::::::
"Are you sure that you don't feel like amending your earlier statement?" asks Thurmond.
Unlike other prisoners, Black doesn't even blink when another pair of aurors enters to continue were the others left off. It has already happened several times, and it doesn't have much of an effect over the prisoner; even when it is supposed to help not to give the suspects chance to get used to one interrogator.
"Yes, absolutely sure." says the grey-eyed man nonchalantly.
"Well, someone is obviously lying... for the statements made by the Death Eaters seem to be in some disagreement with yours, Mr Black." says Thurmond, caressing his chin.
"Is that supposed to mean anything? They are, by their very definition, a bunch of liars and madmen." says Sirius. "It's not my fault their views don't agree with mine. I don't think their views of the world agree with yours either."
"That's not quite what I meant; can we stick to the night of the 6th?" he answers. "These statements were obtained under veritaserum.
"You know very well veritaserum is not acceptable in a court room as more than circumstantial evidence. It doesn't make a man tell the truth, but what the subject believes to be the truth, and even then it can be fallible when dealing with certain scope of people."
"But Jugson insists that it was you who smashed the bones of his leg and left him a pretty mark across his face." says Davies smirking. "How can you explain that?"
"Well, their touch with reality must be more damaged than I thought. I didn't even come near him. I was right at the other end of the room, being too busy with Bellatrix to pay him any attention." says as he raises his wounded arm. "He banged his head folling down the stone benches, most likely he became a bit muddled."
"And what's your relation with the Death Eater Lestrange that you keep calling her by first name?" asks she. Sirius laughs bitterly.
"Oh, you didn't do your homework." she says. "Whether I want it or not, she's my cousin. And no, I haven't talked to her, nor contacted her on purpose in the last twenty years. On the provision, that I've spent 13 years of my life living in a cell right in front of hers."
"Right..." she leafs through her notes while a Charmed Quill keeps writing down everything. "Another thing, how can you explain away that almost all Death Eaters have stated that there was something out of place with you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You see, Dolohov, Malfoy and McNair say that you where everywhere during the fight, Rockwood claims to have seen you in two different places at the same time, Jugson claims to have been duelling to you, although you deny it. And Mulciber and the Lestrange are very insistent in the fact that they saw…" Davies looks up a name in his notebook. "…someone by the name of Regulus Black, who the aurors are still looking up in the records. He was fighting with the Order. So help me untangle this mess, Mr Black."
Sirius huffs and straightens up in his chair.
"I'll straighten this up for you. First of all, about what Malfoy, Dolohov and McNair said... the battle was truly chaotic, and really fast, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to conclude they don't know what they saw. Or I may have been moving too fast for their eyes, it wouldn't be the first time either." he finishes with a disdainful smile.
"And the duel with Jugson?"
"Jugson is stupid, more close to a Troll than a Wizard. I bet he couldn't tell apart his feet from his hands if you asked him. He certainly can't tell handle from tip when it comes to his wand." he sneers. "So don't try to make me explain you how his brain works."
"And what's this about a seventh member in the Order's side?" asks Thurmond. Sirius sighs.
"Let me save you the time of going and looking up Regulus' file; he was my brother, and he is dead. End of the story, there's no way he could have suddenly come back to life. Even in the Department of Mysteries. He was foolish, stupid, a right imbecile; and that's all you need to know. Besides, there is another piece of information; he was a Death Eater. Even if he had managed to escape the grave, which I highly doubt, he wouldn't have been fighting with the Order."
Both aurors listen quietly to his explanation.
"So here's my theory: the Lestranges are absolutely crazy, and Azkaban did them no good, but that is nothing new. Mulciber's a cretin and an hypocrite who really has degenerated with time; I wouldn't trust a man who cries for his mummy in his sleep to even hold my cloak, let alone to make statement. They were all in Azkaban."
"So were you."
"Of course." he answers blandly.
"Your brother?" asks the woman.
"Yes, my brother." he continues with a weary sigh, which really he doesn't have to fake. "He disappeared in the 79' and was considered dead. I wouldn't spill too much tears over it, he was a spoiled brat, who believed himself to be the above everyone else. He was arrogant, and overbearing. Most likely he accidentally cut himself while shaving and bled to death. Then the family tried to cover up such a stupid death only for the sake of appearances. It was bad enough he was dead, it was worse if he didn't die a hero. It's impossible that he was there."
"But the only reasonable way that Jugson could have been taken out of the fight was if there was a seventh member fighting." Thurmond points out.
"I personally wouldn't trust a statement from a Death Eater, with or without veritaserum. They are raging mad and there's no way to understand their thought processes."
A knock on the door stopped this interrogation, that was starting to run in circles.
"If you excuse us."
Outside they come face to face with Williamson, carrying a thick file.
"You were right, McBride had the file." says the auror. "I've taken a look and there's pretty much what Black told you."
He opens the file and hands it over to Thurmond, who skims the information with his eyes. The he gives it back.
"His full name's Regulus Arcturus Black, born on the 20th July 1961, second son of Orion and Wallburga Black and younger brother of Sirius Black. Apparently the lad was a suspected Death Eater, though there's not a single evidence of that. Eeh... according to what McBride found out then, he disappeared the 13th December 1979, and the family considered him dead. The magic family tree in eh possession of the Blacks declared him dead the 15th December 1979. The body was never found, which did not help the investigation, and… what else?"
He skins through some more pieces of yellowed parchment.
"Oh, yes… Apparently, the last person to ever see him was his mother, during lunch on the 13th. McBride discovered blood, a lot of not-coagulated blood, in the dinning room of an old, abandoned property of the Black family in Glasgow, which according to Mrs Black, hadn't been used since 1934. By the lack of coagulation we estimate the death was around 4 am. McBride also obtained blood samples from the parents and compared them with the blood found, the result was that the blood belonged to a son, for sure, but they couldn't specify which one. The test concluded that it could have belonged to Sirius or Regulus Black. Well, McBride obtained a sample from the elder Black after he was detained in 1981 and compared. Which is stupid and inconclusive because blood tests are not supposed to be that specific.2" he scoffs. "McBride also talked to relatives and friends, and found out that young Mr Black was in very bad terms with his brother. Almost every single person that was interrogated said that he was a generally nice boy, studious, with a comfortable life, was even boring."
"Except for the fact that he was a suspected Death Eater." points out Davies.
"Yeah ...a lot of words to say that we know nothing." says the older auror.
"Yes. In fact, there are 48 hours since Black was last seen until he died. And McBride never found out what exactly happened in those 48 hours, the lost hours, as he calls it…" he looks down at the file again. "The main suspects were Bellatrix Lestrange, his cousin; and Sirius Black, as he wasn't anywhere to be found during the 14th. It seems he ruled out the Death Eaters because the house wasn't marked. He concluded that it was someone of the family, that got him out of the way for some reason. And the rest of the file is filled with crackpot theories based in non-existent evidence."
A round of laughter went around through the people assembled, and tension seemed to ease off a little.
"Sounds like McBride alright. One of these days he'll find himself in the Centaur Department." Thurmond says jocularly, chuckling.
"So, we have no idea of what happened?" asks Dawlish, ignoring his senior.
"That's pretty much it, yes." says Williamson.
"He's most likely dead, isn't he?"
"Who's dead?" comes Yates' voice from behind, clearly fuming from whatever transpired with Scrimgeour.
"Regulus Black." says Williamson, handing him the file.
"Yes, that's the reasonable conclusion." he says, but he opens the file.
"You know him?" Davies says. "Lestrage and Mulciber think they saw him in the Department of Mysteries."
"Really." he says. "That's unlikely. I knew him. So did them. He's supposed to be dead."
"We assume he's dead." points out Taylor.
"It is the only logical conclusion after twenty years missing." he says annoyed. "Not even the faintest rumour about him."
"Until two days ago." Davies reminds him.
- He was a Slytherin like me; we were in the same year. And just the kind of people you are glad to be rid of. Half of this... is profoundly wrong." he says closing the file and waving it in the air with distaste. "You'd have problems to find one single person who didn't lie about something. First you have to look up who they used as character witnesses. Naturally the thing remained unsolved. They botched his personality... the last thing he was, is meek, boring or something in that line. He was quiet, that's true, but could be really acid, sarcastic... and generally speaking, a great bastard. I still wonder how he could hate his brother so much, seeing that they're so much alike. Every time their paths crossed they started the twentieth Goblin war."
"And what you are trying to tell us with that?" asks Dawlish.
"That I think Black's right, they didn't get along, and Regulus Black was a pureblood maniac. He would have never fought side by side with his brother, nor with the Order of the Phoenix."
"It makes sense." says Taylor.
"So how the hell do we explain that two Death Eaters claim to have seen him, if he's dead?" asks Dawlish clearly annoyed.
Yates reclaims the file from Williamson and flips it open, and fumbles in Sirius' Blacks file. The he slaps a photograph over the table.
"This is Sirius Black in 1981." He says, and then he slaps a second photograph over the one-way glass. "This was Regulus Black in 1979."
Both youthful faces look up blankly at them. Their faces are long and narrow, their skin pasty white, they have grey eyes and dark hair. Sirius Black makes a handsomer picture, but had they not known, it would have been very difficult to tell which one had truly been Sirius Black in its day. The Regulus Black in the picture was considerably younger but still, the resemblance was uncanny, same black hair… they could be easily mistaken. The difference in the haircut Sirius Black had undergone made it even easier to explain.
"Because it is an easy confusion to make." he says. "It was a full-out battle. Merlin!"
"Right, that man inside there could be Regulus Black and we wouldn't notice." Taylor says glumly. His comment is followed by a moment of complete silence.
"So, how do we know that truly it is Sirius Black in there?" asks Dawlish. The rest of furrowed brows turn around to look at him.
"Because we checked the Azkaban tattoos." Turmond answers in a tone that leaves no room to doubt that he considers Dawlish to be absolutely stupid.
"Right." Davies says. "But truly, what makes you so sure that we can dismiss the Death Eater statements; not that I don't want to..."
Yates shrugs, helplessly.
"Death Eaters always had an irrational fear of some of the members of this Order. Not that we knew it was called that way by any official conduct. At the time, Longbottom, Moody, Dumbledore and Black put them in jitters. They certainly have an irrational amount of fear and hatred stored up for Sirius Black. It made us think that it was because he had a higher power than them in Voldemort's circle. But maybe it was only that he was ruthless with them... my guess is that they are more than paranoid when it comes to dealing with him. He had not made an appearance in two years. They weren't expecting him there.
"Look, here's what I would do." says Thurmond the older auror. "I would finish with these interrogations and try to fix this mess from here."
"I think we can release Lupin safely, his statement is all clear." says Davies.
"And all we have left to do is clearing up the Azkaban issue, because I think it's pretty clear that he was with the Order." Dawlish seems to have a different opinion, though he keeps it to himself.
"What do I do with this?" Williamson says holding up Regulus Black's file.
"Misplace it, just to make sure McBride does not get his hands on the case again." answers the older auror. "It is a cold case. He shouldn't be working on it."
"Where do I put it?"
"I don't know… 'Homicides' instead of 'Missing People'; X instead of B."
"Then I'll go and release Lupin." says Taylor.
"And make sure to fill the necessary paperwork."
"Sure Boss." he says, and Dawlish and Thurmond re-enter Black's room.
::::::::::::::
"I would like to know what happened fifteen years ago, just to have a complete statement." Thurmond says.
"I wasn't a Death Eater, nor the secret-keeper of the Potter family." he says.
The Charmed Quill rolls quickly into action.
"I swapped places with Peter Pettigrew at the last moment; the idea was to have the Death Eaters on my trail, while Peter could be safe. And as long as Peter was safe, so would James and Lily, and Harry. But Peter betrayed us, and sold the Potters to Voldemort. When I heard about it, I ran after him and caught up with him in a muggle part of London near Diagon Alley, he ran and I followed. I finally cornered him in a crowded muggle street in the East End. He yelled for everyone to hear that it had been me the one to betray James, and then cut his finger and blew up half the street." repetition is the reason he now can repeat this without having any outward reaction. "He escaped through the draining system. He was a rat animagus. I fail to see how this is any more useful than any of the times you asked previously."
"You were closer to him than the muggles that died, why is that you didn't get even a scratch?" asks Dawlish.
"I used a protego, in fact if the Ministry hit-wizards and officials at the scene had followed the procedure and performed a priore incantamenta on my wand they would seen it; the last spell I cast was a magical shield in order to stop the blast."
"Even if that is true, which might not be..." the older auror looked pointedly at Dawlish.
"I don't care if you are certain or not, I'm telling the truth and I've told as far as I can tell. I'm not doing any further comments on the issue, because there is nothing else to comment."
"Of course." says Thurmond in an apologetic tone.
"Then tell us how did you escape from Azkaban." demands Dawlish.
"There is clearly no suitable explanation for that." he answers, eyeing the younger auror through half-lidded eyes. "Peter appeared in the paper the Minister gave me. You can check for a rat in one of the photos of the cover. It is missing a finger..."
"Are you telling me you recognized an illegal animagus presumed dead for twelve years on a small picture on the Prophet.
"Yes that is exactly what I am saying." he says. "Even if you keep pressing I won't change my version of the events."
"All this is very fine. But how exactly did you escape?"
"I don't know!" bursts out the grey-eyed man. "I don't know how I did it. I was inside my cell, got pissed off and the next thing I know is that I was outside, standing on the cliffs and looking back at Azkaban. Things didn't register until later."
"But no one escapes Azkaban without exterior help! It is known!"
"The world is made of exceptions Dawlish." he says coldly. "That should be all. You can release me already, or you call your boss. You chose."
::::::::::::::
The door of the interrogation room opens to reveal Rufus Scrimegour standing there. He enters and sits in front of Black, twiddling his thumbs over his twined fingers in front of him.
"Good afternoon Mr Black." he says politely. "I've been informed that you requested to talk to me?"
"I've been chained to this chair for more than forty-eight hours. I've been kept under arrest without any substantial evidence, and that's the limit a prisoner can be kept arrested if the ministry does not press charges." he says calmly. "On the other hand I believe the original charges have been dismissed. I've also answered all your questions without any complaint, but this is starting to get boring. So I would like to have my wand back and be allowed to go home."
Scrimegour looks at him appraisingly.
"Granted that would be, should be, done immediately, but there's still one small issue I'd like to clarify. Professor Dumbledore vouched for you, but at the same time he mentioned to Fudge in his longish explanations that you were an animagi, is that true?"
Sirius freezes and then nods, it is useless to deny it.
"Yes, I became one at the age of fifteen."
"Any special reason?" the old lion of a man says with a furrowed brow.
"It's a long story." Scrimegour motions with the head to go on. "But not one you and your people would be willing to understand. To make a long story short, I was too curious and wilful for my own good."
"You know that that makes you an illegal animagi; and the sentence for that is up to three months in Azkaban?"
"Of course I know that, Scrimgeour."
"The dementors should be too pleased, to have you back."
Sirius grimaces, and in the process bares all his teeth, in a gesture that is clearly defensive.
"You should reconsider."
"You haven't given me a good reason."
"You have two options; either you are incredibly greedy and send me those stipulated three months to Azkaban, or you compensate the twelve unnecessary years in Hell and have the human decency not to."
The older man looks at him like he is considering the offer.
"I believe that the Law was made to be followed."
Sirius laughs with a note of incredulity. The Head of the aurors looks at him waiting impatiently that his mirth stop. Which it does, suddenly, and his smile turns into a grin.
"I believe you don't understand this at all. I'll put it another way for you, Scrimegour: what if I start to sue?"
The smile vanishes from Scrimegour's face.
"Think about it, you can take your time, of course. But if I do that, I'm going to leave the department with only the broom cupboard." Sirius smile is mocking. "There are so many things I could sue for I've lost count. The prejudices are so incredibly high I doubt even the Wizengamot would have the nerve to overlook them."
Scrimgeour now has stopped fidgeting and is very still.
"In the first place there are, of course, the ocean of irregularities of my detention. The detaining officer, a mere hit-wizard then, now your precious Minister saw fit to use my wand to cast an incarcero on me without doing a priora incantamenta on it. That was a mishandling of evidence. Then it was the particular way this department has to vent their anger on its prisoners. I am pretty certain they broke my wrist. And at the time you were right behind that glass and you did nothing. That is abuse of power. Then of course there is the fact that I wasn't tried... I spent twelve years in Azkaban on account of no particular charges... I say, and I think they will agree, I have already had my three months. Then there is also the fact that that my personal properties at the time... yes I know not those of the Black Family, but mine, were auctioned on behalf of the Ministry to patch up the crisis of the 83'. That's not entirely legal either, is it? Do you want me to continue? You don't look too good..."
Scrimgeour scans him over with his eyes, and had he not been seated he'd probably have stepped back.
"You've given it a lot of thought."
Sirius' triumphant grin isn't easy to ignore, and it shows a lot of teeth. "I've had years to think about it." he drawls.
"I suppose…" starts Scrimegour after half minute of silence, conceding defeat. "...I suppose you could leave, without any problems."
He says, and the old lion looks defeated; but not as much as the Minister will be when he hears about it, when he has to explain this. Even if it is Amelia Bones who has to explain it to him, and not Scrimgeour, who would most likely do it screaming.
"But you'll have to fill some papers first and wait for your wand to be checked out... the wand you were using two days ago... and you'll be able to pick up your personal effects."
"I like that idea, when do we begin?"
::::::::::::::
Sirius spends almost four hours more waiting for his current wand, and another hour filling paperwork required for his release. It is tedious, but it should be worth his while, because when he walks down the street next he will do so a free man, a free man as he hasn't been since the 81'. They've assured him that they'll remove all the charges, and that a public apology should be released in the Daily Prophet.
His personal effects have already been returned to him. The totality of his clothing, for one; even if his shirt is totalled. He's easily patched up his robes, and they do hide most of the damage. His wand, uncle Alphard's, is now inside one of its deep hidden pockets. He's been allowed a trip to a bathroom and a mirror and at least no one has been too badly frightened of him. He had no other things on his person.
He finishes signing one of the formularies and hands it to minister official in charge of the evidence archive, who looks at it slowly up and down and then leaves towards one of the hallways of boxes at the very deep end. He returns with a small box labelled 'Sirius Black, case AG789'; he hands the box to Sirius and leaves him alone.
Sirius opens it carefully and looks down at the small pile of old dusty objects. He removes the long shaft of his wand, made of soft wood as pale as his skin. He looks at it with fondness and triumph as his fingers travel along the wood, getting the feel of it. There truly is nothing better than a wand of your own, where the previous owner's spell-casting doesn't interfere with your magic. Then he places it in his robes pocket and removes another object from the box; it is an pocket watch. It is made of silver and white gold and embossed with the crest of the Blacks in the reverse. It has a dent near the little wheel, from a hex on a previous confounded battle. It had been his coming of age present, a gift from Uncle Alphard. He doesn't look much at it and simply places it in his pocket too, where its comfortable weight rests snugly against his chest.
There isn't anything else of interest in the box, an old set of keys now completely useless, an old agenda, the clothes he had been wearing when he was arrested… things that Sirius doesn't care at all for. And though he knows he is going to throw them away at the first chance he still grabs them and places it in a bag. He is unwilling to leave any part of his life, present or past inside the Ministry of Magic.
He walks away from the archive, and from the Ministry. He walks away from his old life. It is time for his pasts sins to stop dragging him down. When he steps outside, he should be a new man, a free man once again. And there will be no man with authority to tell him what to do. Oh, and how does he love the idea of that.
He reaches the Atrium and instead of turning to the lit fireplaces he walks towards the visitor's entrance. Without an exact reason to come to mind, he feels like walking. The moment he steps outside he feels a rush of happiness and lightness of soul. London sprawls in front of him; once again in his reach.
And for once, he takes the long way home.
1 They're being put in courtrooms one and two because nº10 is the largest courtroom, as is the one that has the capacity to hold the Wizengamot in full. Also, it is deduced that interrogations take place in that floor, as in DH Hermione gets locked up in one minor courtroom that also serves as interrogation room.
2 In Some things Wizards are not as advanced as Muggles. For example, DNA tests don't exist. They have a rudimentary blood tests that can be used to determine if a person is a son from two give people, it is useful for narrowing down from a group of vast people, and can give the blood type. But obviously it is not useful when determining identity amongst a group of close relatives.