Douglas MacKenzie of law firm Newt, McKenzie, and Diggory wrote back the very next morning. Hermione was impressed considering how late she'd sent the owl. But the firm based out of Glasgow apparently took this response on a whole other level of seriousness. Gone were the small professional owls used for Hagrid's correspondence. What came this morning was a tan eagle owl who swooped down over her plate with wings almost as long as she was tall. Her classmates, the five of them seventh years who were awake at this hour, stared at the creature. She tried not to gape as well and thought she failed utterly.
"Right. I don't suppose you eat bacon."
The owl peered down at her not the least bit tempted by the food on her plate. Once it deemed she wouldn't make anymore foolish suggestions it lifted an elegant leg with a waterproof case. Looking at the runes she discovered they glowed when it came in contact with the magic hovering out of her hand. Popping open with a small golden poof of smoke it revealed much nicer parchment than she'd ever bought herself. Huffing at the notion they'd know she was using her everyday school note parchment and still sent this, she was torn between amusement and aggravation.
Maybe using the exact wording Black had given pushed this onto something demanding it. Knowing she'd gotten herself in on something much too big for a teenager, again, she grumbled and opened the letter. It said a lot of things. Mainly stating multiple times in various fashions that, "Yes we'll be Sirius Black's lawyers on retainer. Yes of course we'll set up a trial date. Send us memories and we'll escort Miss Granger in a week's time to the ministry of magic. Bring a magical guardian if you have one."
Thinking that sounded rather ominous she wrote a formal if extremely short reply. The eagle owl watched her the whole time. She asked it's permission to touch its leg and got a regal nod in response. From the Head Table she noticed all four heads of house observing her. Her eyes automatically settled on Flitwick. He held the flinty and serious expression she now knew meant he was deciding if he wanted to lob someone's head off or let them go.
She stood and walked forwards, breakfast a goner for now, her stomach had so many nerves between the metal box hiding under her bed to the idea of going to the ministry. She needed help.
They continued to watch her, not even pretending to pay attention to their food as she stopped in front of Flitwick.
He greeted, "Miss Granger it looks like a lively morning."
"It is. I've been informed I'll have to go to the Ministry of Magic during Tuesday next week. It's advised I bring a magical guardian. Would you be able to fulfill that role?" Hermione felt awkward. She may as well be asking if he had time to babysit. She didn't want to think too hard about just how freaked out she was, nor how much his answer mattered to her. Maybe he could see it written over her face because his gaze softened.
"Is this an official request? You know if you confirm then I am entitled to act in your parents' stead till you're 17."
"Yes, it's an official request." Something in her chest broke a little at making this real. For years her parents had been separated from her life. So separated that while Hermione was allowed to walk into the DMLE and report a crime, her muggle parents were not. That if Hermione was injured for months and laying comatose from a basilisk's attack her parents weren't allowed to step foot on magical ground to visit her. They love her, would always love her, but they couldn't protect her or even be present. The most they could do was comfort her through biweekly letters. She was quite sure if the man in front of her hadn't forced her into lessons Winno might be the only one she regularly talked to. She bit her lip then added, "If you are willing."
His smile may have been small but it was real and deep and warm. And suddenly that thing inside of her didn't feel so jagged or sharp. Flitwick accepted and a spark lit between them, sinking into their cores. Hermione blinked. She wouldn't have seen this if she weren't so sensitive after her reaction to Trelawney's tea. The casual nature of something so official passing with nary a word scared her. How often had Hermione nearly made some magically binding pact with someone and been entirely unaware. If she didn't trust the man so implicitly she'd be freaking out. Her ignorance on magical contracts would need to be rectified and soon. At least she'd chosen well. Albus Dumbledore came into the hall, Hermione saw his eyes twinkling and lowered her own. Her paranoia about legilimency stronger and more present than ever. She'd just kidnapped and assisted a wanted criminal. There were too many secrets she had to keep locked tight to let something slip so easy. Especially to one of wizards who so easily discovered what transpired in his castle. If he were to show a sudden interest in her it'd be incredibly inconvenient timing.
McGonagall opened her mouth, about to make a statement or demand answers. Upon noticing this Hermione nearly panicked. However, Flitwick saved her again, stepping in unasked and naturally blocking the inquiry. His small hand held up and a wave of something heavy pulsed out. Hermione didn't know what it was, but it felt heavy and warm and pulsing against her forehead, cheeks, and all the way down to her toes. McGonagall faltered. Sometimes people forgot who this small man was and what he'd done before retiring into his quiet Scottish life. Every professor in the vicinity seemed to feel the shift.
Albus Dumbledore's step slowed. He too now paying the diminutive charms professor his attention. Hermione assessed this interaction with lowered head, eyes darting from behind a curtain of hair. She felt a probe against her head, but the warmth surrounding her acted as a shield and pushed the probe firmly away. She wondered if it'd be so gentle a second time. Flitwick hadn't moved from his seat instead rose a single eyebrow at Albus Dumbledore. When he spoke it was as if the legilimency attack never happened.
Flitwick spoke up, his voice light and cheery, "Of course. Minnie dear, I'll sign the forms to arrange for her to be out of class that day. Let me know if you need further details."
Despite the rest of the staff's clear interest, his placing himself as the point of contact clearly protected her in more ways than she first imagined. Her breaths came short and fast realizing how narrowly she'd avoided getting thrown in Azkaban herself just then. A legilimency probe from the Supreme Mugwump. He'd have been duty bound to do something. Dear Sweet Einstein her imagination never would have thought about her simple question to Flitwick upending her plane of existence like this. Unaware of her student's inner turmoil, McGonagall made a noise of disapproval.
"Filius my student-"
"Is now my ward and any further explanation will come from me. Surely this is more convenient for everyone."
Hermione couldn't stop thinking about the metal box hiding under her bed. She'd added notice-me-nots and a couple signature recognition spells. Anyone short of a teacher will have a hard time opening it. Hermione really really didn't need any extra professors' attention on her. So she watched them talk about her and tried so hard to seem casual. An upstanding student only needing a bit of help going to the Ministry, completely boring, bookish, and law abiding.
Her Head of House pursed lips and seemed not at all pleased she couldn't demand answers from one of her Gryffindors. The woman and Hermione had been uncomfortable and bumping heads since that single missed assignment. Flitwick claiming her wasn't helping those feelings. The man still sat firm, unbothered, and went back to drinking his tea. At seeing this Hermione thanked him and all but ran from the hall.
She was happy it was Wednesday. The single morning free from classes and she could be herself in this singular space and time. It meant there was no one to miss her as she ran up the stairs, into the passage to Honeydukes. Disillusionment charm in place it took 15 seconds to sneak out of the cellar and out onto the village street proper.
Sirius Black told her he'd be at the Hog's Head Pub having breakfast every morning for a week. To meet him there if she wanted to give her answer. While she didn't entirely trust him, she didn't think he'd do anything untoward in a public setting. Then again, last time he'd plucked her off the street itself and apparated so fast she hadn't known what was happening. The man might have been stuck in a cell for 12 years, but he'd had 10 months to recover and he was so much faster than her already. Hermione was nervous. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but a dark pub at the end of an ill lit inlet of the village wasn't it. The door stood before her grey, half broken and looking as if it'd better serve the nearby goat's pin.
She pushed it open, its rough surface scraping her fingers as it slid on squeaky hinges. Inside the pub was even darker, forcing her eyes to adjust. Inside the gloom four people sat. A barman who upon seeing him and looking away, Hermione snapped her head back around, sure she'd just seen Albus Dumbledore cleaning a cracked glass with a dirty rag. He gave her one dismissive look before going back to cleaning. Not Albus Dumbledore then.
The three other patrons didn't look up from their food. It was only the grey hair and shot of blue eyes on the man transfigured to look old that she knew which one to approach. But first she went to the bar and ordered tea. Moreover, Hermione was nervous and very aware she should try to not stick out. She didn't realize her Gladrag's robes were like a beacon in the gloomy pub.
The barman's words, "It'll be out in a minute."
With a nod she scuttled to slide into the booth across from the grey haired, blue eyed man. He glanced up at her and went back to eating his food. Neither said anything till her tea floated over.
Black glanced up at her and she watched sharp blue eyes observing her face. This wasn't a misplaced child unable to take care of himself. Guilty or innocent this man had escaped Azkaban High Security and out thought teams of aurors for 10 months. He was dangerous and quite possibly unstable. Even if he seemed better today that didn't mean he was ok.
Hermione half expected herself to be hexed again, but it hadn't happened yet. Her shoulders loosened. She grabbed her chipped tea mug and blew on the top. The questions piled up in her brain. She had so many. They clamored and shuffled in place for which ones she'd allow and which would be voiced first. However, Hermione gave a hesitant glance around the dingy pub. By the time he'd finished most of his food she looked sideways and saw a few more patrons entering.
"Is it safe to talk here?" Her murmur came out as low as she could make it.
He scoffed, "Godric no. Wait and we'll go somewhere else."
Hermione's stomach twisted, but she took a deep calming breath. She'd promised herself she'd try to help him. Innocent or guilty, he should have had a trial. She'd help him. She'd be watchful and stay an arms span away and she'd be fine. She would. Though part of her was regretting not making him vow not to harm her. She swallowed, but when he rose so did she. He paid for them both, leaving coins on the sticky table, and Hermione wondered what person he'd stolen from.
"This way."
She couldn't read the expression on his face. It's like a mask had been pulled down. His eyes however remained sharp and watchful as they stepped out of the pub. No one stopped them or got too close. He led them straight to the end of the village, cast a notice me not and glanced around. Then he turned and before her an inlet of torn down houses appeared. There'd been a fire but it must have been centuries ago. Hermione found herself wandering down a side street she hadn't known existed. She'd been to Hogsmeade and thought she knew every part. There were only five buildings and all destroyed. Glassless windows stood dark and the shrubbery actively attempting to grow over their entrances.
"I've never seen this before."
"I been warding it since last summer. Those who've been here shouldn't remember it. Though I've seen more than a few auror patrols stopping by in front of the ruins to run scans, see if anyone's in, but they never seem interested enough to pass the wardline. To get through you'd have to see someone enter or be keyed yourself."
He stopped at the end of the street, went behind a grand arch to a garden and stopped. Behind him a road led up to the mountainside. Around them the colors were startling.
"Oh." Hermione's voice came out soft. Oh indeed.
He'd led her to a field of exotic flowers overrunning a house and hillside. What'd once been a garden had been left for decades. Untended and unchecked the perennial seeds sprouted blooms over ruin walls, up the nearby cliff face, and spreading a yellow and white path up the nearby mountain road. It was April in Scotland. Of course there'd be flowers, fields of them.
"I wanted to send you flowers, apologize for what happened, but the post is being scanned and...I..."
He hunched in on himself slightly, his voice rough, "I didn't mean to hurt you. Or scare you. You'd taken so well to my grim form and that day the dementors had been circling the village for hours before you showed up. It was one of my worst days. I'm so sorry I..."
He trailed off again and Hermione wondered if he simply didn't know what he was saying sorry for. She still didn't trust him, but this, this was beautiful in its ruin. He might as well have been a fixture for how still and dark he stood amongst them. The magic wafting in heavy waves around him felt genuine. Dark immaterial energy seeped from Sirius Black, feeding into what must be the wards he'd set. His passive presence and its magic circled around her before settling into the ground and crumbling stone walls. She didn't know what to think. Sirius Black didn't look at her, his hands hung by his sides and he looked off to the mountain.
He continued, "I'm not staying here. I'm staying up the hill. The warding goes that far up the trail system. It's not aggressive, it simply keeps most who might wander from getting close. You, if you want to ever find me again, you can find me up there."
She nodded, absent minded at the notion of a man who couldn't send flowers so instead brought her to them. The man who she still wasn't certain wasn't a mass murderer. Last of the House of Black and oh hadn't she found some terrible tales about them once she'd had a moment to look up the House history.
He looked at her then. Stating, "You came today. Quicker than I thought you would. You have an answer."
As if a breeze swept through her, chilling and revitalizing her she remembered.
"I have the rat. Now the lawyers need your memories to submit for evidence. Same steps as for Hagrid's case. It all needs to be submitted three weeks in advance with multiple copies sent out to different departments for filing."
The man who stood in a field of flowers, who'd just pointed out the way to a cave he hid from the nation's best aurors. He was staring at her long and hard. Then with a silent wave of his wand he conjured five crystal vials from nothing, then put his wand to his head and pulled. Silvery wisps followed his wand, pulling the essence of memories away. He pulled them again and again. With each came tension, anger, and sorrow. Each memory he extracted seeped with emotion. When they'd been pulled from him he looked haggard, like he'd just experienced it all again. He might be dangerous, but he was in pain and she hated seeing people in pain. Her empathetic, bleeding heart finally got the better of her.
Against her better judgment she stepped forward to grab the now full vials. Sirius Black stared blankly at them. Hermione gently pried them from his grip, promising, "I'll come back. Whatever help you need. I'll help you find it."