001: A Hard Day's Night
'string me up from atop these roofs, knot it tight so I won't get loose'
Linkin Park, Bleed It Out
in which he's offered a life-line
April 17th 1984
For years, Sirius Black had believed he'd been raised within a prison. His identity and own sense of self was stripped from him as his biological parents, the vicious creatures they were, forced him to adopt the prejudiced beliefs infused within their heritage.
His thoughts were not his own, but simply a reflection of the ideals indoctrinated within a high-class society. His actions were nothing more than conformity to typical Pureblood customs. Sirius Black had not known freedom until he'd ran into James Potter on Platform 9 ¾'s all those years ago.
He'd lost count of how many it had been now.
It was a different time. Nought more than ghosts of distant memories of a life he'd once lived and would never be able to return to.
He didn't cry anymore. He didn't feel he deserved to. For the first few months, he had mourned the loss of his brother, his James — the young boy who'd ridiculed him for his pompous hairstyle and then proceeded to gift him the warmth and love of a family he'd only dreamed of having.
He'd mourned the loss of Lily; the only woman who was never afraid to tell him exactly what she thought of him. She didn't care about wounding his ego or pride, in fact, many times she'd insisted Sirius needed her insults to keep him grounded, lest his ego gets too big and carry him off.
But then he'd be forced to remember the innocent, now orphaned, little boy they'd left. The same innocent, now orphaned, little boy that Sirius had promised he'd return to.
And Sirius would be knocked back as that same, acidic taste of bile and guilt filled in his stomach, knowing that he'd never be able to fulfill his promise.
Still, he didn't regret what he'd done; only that he hadn't been smart enough to realise what Peter was doing before it was too late. They'd always underestimated Peter, it was an easy mistake to be made — but it didn't mean it should've.
Sirius had been raised in a vipers pit. He should've been the first to realise something was didn't rage, not anymore. He'd spent weeks doing that already — smashing his fists into the impenetrable stone of the small cell he was locked in when the tears ran dry. His knuckles had bled. His bones had shattered. But still, he could not feel the pain.
He could not feel anything.
He'd shouted and screamed at one point, begging for someone — anyone to listen to him. No one did. Not Remus. Not even her. But then again, why would she? What did she owe him?
Still, Sirius did not give up. The war had taken everything from him — his family, his innocence, his happiness. But he would not let it take his mind, his sanity. Not if there was even the smallest of chances that Harry could need him in the future.
He'd learnt the hard way that hope was a dangerous prospect.
The dementors feasted on the small light still flickering within his soul, stealing his most precious memories and infusing him with such numbing despair. Sirius had forced his weakening body to transform after the third visit, unwilling to allow the creatures to take anything more from him.
He slept as a dog, shivering on the cold slab in the corner of his cell. He'd wake as a human, eating the 'porridge' laid out for him, even if the chunky gruel was hardly edible.
The rest of his day was passed with a series of push-ups to keep his body disciplined. He kept his mind sharp by pacing, intricately planning the steps of his revenge should he ever manage to escape and the life he'd live with Harry.
His routine was a perfected art. Sleep, wake, eat, repeat. No one spoke to him. The medi-witches stopped by once a month to check his nutrition and bandage any fresh injuries. That was also the only opportunity Sirius got to wash, the medi-witches bringing a basin of cold water and a brittle cloth that had certainly seen better days.
And yet, Sirius still did not give up.
He knew hope was dangerous. He'd learnt his lesson enough. But the thing about hope is that it's persistent. It's stubborn.
"Mr Black?"
The voice was both foreign and familiar — far away and alien to Sirius' ears. He ignored it, believing it to be a figment of his imagination, resonant torture left by the dementors that had visited him that morning. Nobody talked to him.
But the familiar voice soon became hard to ignore, especially as it drifted closer to the bars of his cell.
"Sirius Black?"
His head was pounding — spinning with a thousand thoughts as he placed the palms of his hands into his eyes. Was that his name? It had been so long since he'd heard it.
"Is he well?" The tone was quieter, more hesitant and sympathetic — it was clear the question had not been directed to Sirius himself. The question was met with a gruff laugh, "none of em' are well in ere', Miss."
Sirius didn't have the energy needed to laugh. He wasn't quite sure he still knew how.
The voices reduced to nothing more than hushed whispers and Sirius began to make peace with the fact that his mind had fractured. He knew it was coming, after all.
What he hadn't been expecting was the unmistakable sound of heeled shoes falling against the stoned floor of his cell — drawing closer and closer until suddenly stopping just a few meters away from his huddled body.
"Mr, Black." The voice was firm this time, the hesitance replaced with a newfound urgency that encouraged Sirius to lower his hands and lift his head. His grey eyes were met by a striking pair of green ones that felt strangely familiar, though his mind could not place them.
"I apologise for the length of time it has taken to get this sorted, but I'm here to deliver the news that your appeal for a trial has been awarded," the woman spoke eloquently. Had Sirius not been rendered speechless by her words, he certainly would have been by her familiarity.
"The Minister has personally requested for your release, subject to certain requirements — all of which will be explained to you upon our return to the Ministry. Do you accept?"
2 years, 5 months, 1 week, 6 days, 19 hours, 13 minutes, and 20 seconds had passed since his imprisonment. For almost 3 years, Sirius had been locked away with nothing but his poisonous thoughts for company.
And yet, his stubborn hope had presided.
His tone was rough and thick as he answered, "yes."
2 years, 5 months, 1 week, 6 days, 19 hours, 13 minutes, and 20 seconds and Sirius Black had finally been granted a trial.
January 9th, 1984
Leto Carter had been raised upon the belief that if you wanted something done, it was best to do it yourself. She was headstrong. Fierce.
The witch knew exactly what she wanted, and she went out and got it. The majority of her colleagues hated her for it — the Wizengamot was especially averse to her determination. Not that she'd ever cared enough to worry about the fleeting opinions of pretentious aristocrats.
No, Leto had always cared more for justice. For doing what was right.
She was clinical with her work — taking care to read and analyse every small detail of every case that passed through her office within the DMLE. Her success rate was higher than those of the rest of her colleagues within her division of the Wizengamot Administration Services sector, even despite her being there the shortest amount of time.
It was that fact which led Remus Lupin, backed by Minerva McGonagall, to Leto's office that dreary February morning.
"It's good to see you again, Professor McGonagall," Leto spoke with an easy smile as she lead the pair into her office, gesturing to the two black leather chairs in front of her desk.
Minerva returned her smile, the skin by her eyes crinkling slightly as she regarded her former student. "You as well, Miss Carter. Though I do wish the circumstances were different." Her Scottish drawl was familiar to Leto — the sense of urgency and grief laced within it, however, was not.
Leto nodded as she sat behind her desk, gathering the stray pieces of parchment she'd been reading through before they had arrived. "Yes. I read over your proposal for the Wizengamot — I think it's possible to build a case, here."
McGonagall and Remus emitted a small sigh of relief — falling back into their seats as though the transparent band that had kept them so tightly wound had been snapped by her words. It had been years. Almost 3 years they had waited for the smallest flicker of hope.
"It will take time. In fact, it may take another couple of months—"
"More time?" Remus' scoff was direct and harsh, cutting Leto's words off cleanly. His eyes were narrowed as he stared at the dark-haired witch incredulously, ignoring the comforting hand McGonagall had placed over his. "I'd say he's waited long enough, wouldn't you?"
Leto sighed sympathetically, mindful to not let Remus' anger affect her. It wasn't her he was upset with, after all.
"Mr Lupin—"
"You can call me Remus, Leto. We were friends once, after all."
Leto swallowed thickly, repressing the memories she'd fought so hard to forget. "Remus, you must understand that forming a case as large as this one, with all the various contingencies attached to it, will take time to process."
She held up a hand before he could interrupt her again, insisting that she wasn't finished. "Barty Crouch's demotion gives us the grounds to request a trial, but the Wizengamot are unlikely to award it without sufficient reason. I will need time to build a case before I present it."
Remus nodded his head subtly, swallowing thickly as his eyes roamed the interior of Leto's office. It was clinical — clean and organised — much like its inhibitor. In fact, the only character in the room came from the blue and bronzed decorative wallpaper on the wall behind Leto and the photo frame on the black filing cabinet in the corner.
He focused his attention on that as though to not let himself succumb to the grief and anger he felt. 3 years. It had been almost 3 years since Sirius Black was imprisoned for a crime he did not commit.
Years of letters of rebuttal — of pleas and cries for Sirius' innocence — all of which had been ignored. Until now. Until her.
He remembered that picture being taken. Hogwarts, 1979 — Leto's Graduation day. He'd been there — they'd all been there - to watch as Leto and Amelia Longbottom received their certificates with beaming smiles.
It seemed so long ago now. A different time. A simpler time.
"He's innocent," Remus spoke quietly, his tone thick with sorrow and promise as though he was pleading for her to believe him. As if she needed to believe it.
Leto swallowed thickly — the only evidence of any emotion as she schooled her expression perfectly, appearing professional and unaffected. "And I will do everything within my power to prove it. But we will need a solid proposal — one free from any mistakes — if we hope to succeed."
Remus fell back into his seat — solemn, but appreciative of her help. He wasn't naive enough to believe this would all be over in a few days but he had hoped for a quick turnaround. He felt he owed that to Sirius after what he had done.
It was McGonagall that regained the lead of the conversation, offering Leto a grateful smile as she patted Remus' hand comfortingly. "We understand, Miss Carter. And we thank you for your help, truly," the Professor spoke kindly, though the hint of sadness in her tone was unmissable.
It had been there ever since Halloween of 1981 and was unlikely to dissolve any time soon.
"You're welcome, Professor," Leto returned her smile, eyes bright and reminiscent of a time where her most taxing concern was handing in her Transfiguration essay on time. "I shall send you an owl regarding character witness statements and any other information you can give me that may be useful."
Professor McGonagall nodded as she rose to her feet, her purple robes flowing eloquently behind her. "Of course, my dear," the older witch regarded with a soft expression of pride, "it was a blessing to see you again. It would seem you've done rather well for yourself."
A small flush decorated Leto's cheeks as she stood, offering her previous mentor a grateful smile. "Thank you, Professor. I was mentored by the best, after all."
McGonagall flashed her one last smile, nodding subtly as she headed for the door. Remus took a moment to stand, his eyes stuck on the wooden photo frame on Leto's filing cabinet as if reliving the memory once again.
"He'd appreciate this, you know," he spoke quietly as he pulled himself to his feet, his eyes drifting the brunette. The sincerity and gratitude on his face were almost crippling. "He'd be glad it was you."
To her credit, Leto did not falter. She stood tall despite the emotions threatening to pull her down — her expression vacant of any emotion. "I'm not doing this for him," she stated firmly and clinically — her tone even and assured — "I'm doing it because it's right."
It was her eyes that gave her away. Merlin, it was always her eyes.
Remus nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself as he offered her a small smile. It was familiar — on the verge of being too familiar — and Leto wasn't certain she'd be able to keep up her facade for much longer.
"Right. Well, thank you, again Leto," Remus drawled, his tone suggesting he knew something she didn't. Or, perhaps wasn't ready to admit was the right phrase. "It was nice to see you. Take care of yourself."
Leto was thankful he left before she could reply because the second the door to her office closed, the cracks in her armour began to chip away. Memories and unresolved feelings splitting her defence apart.
March 2nd, 1984
It had been weeks since Remus' visit — 7, to be exact — and the replay of their conversation was yet to leave Leto's thoughts. It had been the first time she'd seen him since James and Lily's funeral — a haunting memory she'd placed on the very back shelf of her mind, wishing never to recall.
She'd shelved many memories over the years — storing them away in different coloured files and slotting them into the dark spaces of her memory, never to be brought to the forefront. Or at least, that had been the idea until Remus Lupin waltzed back into her life.
Now her files were disorganized. Open. Haunting. Never mind that she'd spent the last 3 years religiously learning how to Occlude to avoid the pain they resurfaced.
It had taken Leto hours to sort through them once more. Re-filing and re-storing them back into their appropriate places — a feat that was both mentally and emotionally draining — before she could even attempt to get started on Sirius' case.
And still, still, she could not forget the desperation in Remus' voice when he'd stated Sirius' innocence. As if he needed her to believe it. He'd spoke it with such rawness and pleading, as though making her believe it was the most important thing.
It was too much. Too much pain. Too much history.
She was beginning to regret ever choosing the case. Surely Stevenson could have handled it all the same. Surely she'd have been more suited in a background role — passing notes and gathering evidence from behind the scenes.
Then again, Leto had never been satisfied with being on the sidelines.
"So, you're campaigning on behalf of Death Eaters now, Carter?" The voice was taunting and arrogant, much like the man it belonged to.
Leto rolled her eyes and grumbled under her breath, not bothering to turn around as she continued to sift through her filing cabinet.
She was looking for the character witness statements Professor McGonagall had sent her last week. She had to admit, she'd been quite surprised by how many McGonagall had managed to procure.
"Just the ones that weren't given fair trials, Robards," Leto supplied boredly, pulling out the file she was looking for before closing the filing cabinet with her hip.
Robards' eyes followed her the whole way back to her desk as he leant idly against the doorframe, wand spinning in his hand. Gawain Robards was a handsome man — golden hair and crystal blue eyes — it was a shame he didn't have the personality to match.
All of his decent qualities were muted by his arrogance and suffocating ego. He was talented — the best Auror in the DMLE, excluding Alastor Moody, of course — and he knew it. He paraded around the Ministry as though he was untouchable. It was infuriating.
"I dare say there was likely a reason," Robards remarked, nose high in the air as Leto continued to organize the pieces of parchment on her desk. "It's been almost 3 years, Leto. If there were any grounds that Black was innocent do you not think the issue would've been raised sooner?"
He was belittling her. Taunting her, as if he knew the case was destined to fail. Raising questions she'd already thought over herself and then answered with evidence in the proposal she'd delivered last week.
Gripping the edge of the desk, Leto bit her lip tightly in an attempt to stop the expletives she wished to shout at the man and gathered herself. With forced politeness, she spun on her heels to face him, "is there something I can help you with, Robards?"
Robards' eyes ran unashamedly over Leto's figure — lingering for a second too long on the way her tailored skirt cinched her curved waist — "oh, there's plenty." Leto's left eye twitched, a hex bubbling in her throat as she raised a perfectly shaped brow at the wizard.
Instead of being embarrassed at being caught out, Robards simply smirked and tilted his head. "Auror Bones has requested you in her office," the man drawled finally causing Leto's heart to stutter. This was it. This is what she'd been waiting for.
Leto nodded, a short cough escaping her lips as her breath caught up to her. "Right. Is, uh—" the witch spoke hurriedly, placing all of the stray pieces of parchment into a neat pile on her desk before reaching for her wand, "is that all?"
Robards watched her hurried manner with interest. "Just a warning, Carter," he spoke clearly — his tone demanding attention as he pushed himself off of the doorframe — "Black was found guilty enough that his case didn't warrant a trial."
He raised a brow as Leto turned back to face him — pieces of parchment gripped tightly in her hands — "that should tell you something. Don't let your juvenile feelings mar your perfect record."
Leto scoffed. Juvenile feelings. The files she had stored in her mind rattled once more.
"I'll decide which cases I feel are worth fighting, Robards," her tone was clipped — clinical and professional — but her jaw was tight.
"But thank you, truly, for your unwarranted concern."
Robards smirked in satisfaction, "it's your downfall, Carter." She'd be lying if she said her arm didn't raise — wand aimed perfectly at the door and hex on the tip of her tongue — as he made his exit.
A ragged sigh escaped her lips as she lowered her wand, counting down from 10 just as her Grandfather had taught her. Placing the parchment on her desk, Leto ran her hands over her skirt in an attempt to rid it of the imaginary lint before leaving her office.
Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she navigated her way towards the Auror Department. 2 lefts, 3 rights, down a flight of stairs, end of the corridor.
Head of Department
Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE)
Amelia Bones
Leto knocked twice and waited for the soft "enter" before letting herself into the large office. "Auror Bones? You wanted to see me?" she greeted politely, closing the door behind her as she waited for Amelia to acknowledge her.
Amelia lifted her head from the pieces of parchment in her hand, smiling softly at the brunette by the door. "Ah, Leto, yes," the woman spoke gently — gesturing with her hand towards the seat in front of her desk — "I read over your proposal, I must say, I was rather surprised by your interest."
Leto ignored Amelia's quizzical brow — not allowing the hidden question in her tone to affect her achieving her goal. She held herself professionally — her files hidden behind locked eyes — not giving anything away.
"I've been researching Barty Crouch's old cases," Leto revealed — ensuring to leave out the involvement of Remus and Professor McGonagall. Taking a deep breath, she continued after taking note of Amelia's intrigue.
"When it was found that he encouraged the use of Unforgivable's in the capture of Death Eaters, I decided to look into his previous successful convictions in more depth. Mr Black's case stood out to me. He was one of only three suspected Death Eaters not to be granted a fair trial. The others were—"
"Frederick Selwyn and Atticus Dolohov, I know," Amelia finished with an amused smirk, having been one of the Auror's to help capture them. Leto's cheeks flushed as she fell back into her seat, cursing herself internally for getting carried away.
Amelia smiled once more — eyes bright as she shuffled the pieces of parchment in her hands into a neat pile. "It's a solid proposal, Leto," the older witch praised, "I don't imagine the Wizengamot will find a flaw within it — though, that doesn't mean they won't try."
Pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, Amelia held the proposal out towards Leto with a subtle smirk. "Ensure you're prepared, you've been granted a hearing on Wednesday."
Leto visibly relaxed — the familiar sense of relief unwinding her taut muscles — as she grabbed the parchment from Amelia's outstretched hands. One step closer.
"Thank you, Auror Bones," Leto smiled as she stood from her chair, tipping her head towards the Auror in acknowledgement.
Amelia returned the gesture, though, unlike Leto, her lips were tight.
"This is a difficult case, Leto," the older witch expressed with a hint of warning — her eyebrows raised in a questioning manner — "I hope you know what you're doing."
Leto swallowed thickly — the files beginning to rattle once again. With another nod and an encouraging smile, she exited the office; clutching the proposal tight to her chest.
Did she know what she was doing? Of course, she'd done this sort of thing before. She'd won countless cases within her 2 years in the Ministry. She was Britain's current most sought after Criminal Defence Lawyer, for Merlin's sake.
But was she prepared for him? The disorganized files supplied her answer.