Hey everybody, welcome back! More importantly, Happy Pride Month! Many of the most wonderful people that I have ever known personally, as well as some of the artists, musicians, and writers that have inspired millions and shaped our culture as we know it, have been part of the LGBTQ+ community. This is our time to celebrate together, to mourn the injustices that still exist for those who don't fit into a heteronormative perception, and to combat those preconceived notions through love and hope. Everybody deserves a baseline of respect in this world, and it's exciting to see how far we have come in the past few decades to achieve that standard. However, as we all know there is so much more work to be done. Pride Month is part of that work, as is the visibility and celebration that it gives life to.
In fanfic related news, I hope you enjoy the chapter, it was a bit of a slog for me to write (mostly because I can't wait to introduce a certain character I happen to love), but I think it turned out alright. As always, thank you to x102reddragon for his fabulous beta-work, and to Foreal the Chronicler, who's brainstorms could be classified as category 4 hurricanes.
Also, some of you may have noticed that this fic has gained a cover! Many, many thanks to DavidtheAthenai who did an amazing job, and I could not recommend him enough to anyone looking for an artist to work with. What is more, he's a man of many talents and his fics are some of the pillars in the Flowerpot community, so if you didn't know, now you know.
Lastly, a special congratulations to Gomez36000 on his completion of his fantastic fic, Hope and Healing. If you are not familiar, get familiar. It's pretty damn great.
Chapter 4: Noble Intentions
Harry Potter's dreams felt born of a high fever- intense, vivid, and confusing. One moment he was crawling through a hot desert, his throat as dry as the parched sand surrounding him. The next he was a first year again, stuck on the chess set that had stood between him and the Philosopher's Stone, the giant pieces looming over him like a silent jury.
He was riding a horse through a forest, spurring his steed faster and faster, he was swimming in the sea with mermaids, fleeing from a bestial hydra with sword-like fangs. These visions flashed before his eyes instantaneously, yet he spent an eternity within each, and the few moments of rest between each scene was just as terrifying.
He was trapped. He was doomed. He suffocated under a woolen blanket, but when he tore it off in a frenzy, he was left a tremoring wreck, freezing. Through a thick haze he could recognize shadowy figures fussing over him, speaking an alien tongue, their arms reaching out to him in warped and strange ways that defied the laws of physics.
It was in these instances that he welcomed the returning visions with open arms, anything was better than this strange reality that he found himself living in. Even if in those visions, he was always trying to escape someone, or something. Always fleeing. Always running.
Until finally, after an age or so of muddling through a half-life, the voices began to make sense.
"Blimey, he's been asleep for so long, should we ask if Madame Pomfrey is free to come here?"
"That may be our only option at this point. Professor Snape said he was just magically exhausted, but that magic. His presence. I can't get it out of my head. He was so scary. There must be something wrong."
Snape?
"Do you think he'll remember anything? He was in a right state when he got in, he was. Hasn't been much better since," That was Ron's voice.
Are they talking about me? Where am I? Harry struggled to open his eyes but they felt glued shut, and his aching muscles and tired mind begged him to return to sleep.
"What should we do when he wakes up, what if he's still angry?"
"I don't know, Mione', he was mad. Real mad, I thought we were goners. Does he even want to talk to us anymore?"
Of course, I do, you prat! He tried to say so, to let his friends know that there was nothing that could get in the way of their friendship. What were they so worried about anyway?
"Don't be silly, Ron! Of course he still wants to talk to us, we're his best friends! The way he looked at me, Ron... He was just in pain. That's all it was, he's still our Harry." Despite her words, they lacked the endearing mix of stubborn self-assuredness and slight condescension that usually colored her tone while chastising her friends.
They… They're afraid of me.
Memories of his arrival, as clear as the visions from his nightmares, struck his mind like a charging buffalo. They had abandoned him all summer. No, it wasn't their fault, but they hadn't defied or even questioned Dumbledore's orders. He was angry, true. But his reaction had been totally uncalled for, he could have killed them!
A forlorn grief sunk its way into his gut; if they were afraid of him now, how could he ever tell them that he had a piece of the Dark Lord in his head?
Past the voices he could hear the unmistakable sound of a door creaking open, footfalls upon aged wood, and another familiar voice spoke out. "Ron, Hermione. Molly says that it's time for bed, I'll sit with Harry for a while, okay?"
Sirius.
"Sirius, he stopped trembling a few hours ago but he still hasn't moved. Should we get him to a professional healer?" Harry could hear the concern in Hermione's shaky voice and for a moment his loneliness was forgotten.
"Don't worry, Hermione, it's pretty typical for people who magically over-exert themselves to be out for quite a while. Besides, he had a rough day before that, I'm sure he'll be fine." Sirius's voice was warm and self-assured, a far cry from the quivering croak that he spoke with when Harry had last seen him in person.
"Can't we stay with him a little longer? I- I just want to be there for him when he wakes up. He's my best mate."
Bless Ron's heart.
"Sorry kids, I can't risk inciting Molly's wrath again; I've still got a lump on my head from the last time. Your mum is deadly with a saucepan."
He could hear Ron and Hermione's subdued laughter and scraping chairs, then footsteps again. Come on body, move. I need to talk to them! But try as he might, he could not rouse himself from his half-consciousness.
He heard them call out good night to Sirius before their footsteps faded away from earshot and the door creaked closed again. A faint, pleasant smell of sweet cigar smoke and leather teased his nostrils as Sirius's footsteps grew closer to where he lay. Though he could not open his eyes he could feel his godfather's presence close by, and that was enough for now.
"I don't know if you can hear me. Shit, Harry, I don't even know if I should be saying this, but God knows you scared us. You scared me. Seeing you hovering there with the foulest magic imaginable swirling around you… I failed you."
Failed me?
"I had the chance to do things right when you were a baby. If I hadn't let my hatred take over, if I had focused on you, things could have been so much different. You wouldn't have had to fight so hard; you wouldn't have to go through so much pain. Seeing you there, in my own house, so lost… I was so afraid that I would never be able to say how sorry I was. And then I had to strike you down. To keep you safe I had to raise my wand against you. My own Godson. Harry. I'm sorry."
Sirius, no. He could feel the miniscule sprinkle of teardrops falling onto his form. He had to move, damn it!
"When you wake up, I'll do what I can to make it up to you. It's too late to change what happened, and God knows that you have a lot of shit to deal with now, but I will make for damn sure that you will be the best you can be and that you can face down the-"
"S-sirius." With supreme effort he forced his eyes half open and his body protested the tiny movement with every fiber of his being. In the shadows of the dark, unfamiliar room, he could make out the blurry form of his godfather. "You're being s-so stupid. I f-forgive you, just shut up."
"Harry!"
Before he could comprehend, Sirius had him in a tight embrace and the scent of unsmoked tobacco was overpowering and heady. Harry closed his eyes again, the act of speaking having exhausted him, and for the first time in ages he went to sleep feeling safe.
XXX
When Harry awoke once more, the first thing that he processed was the frosty breeze that filled the old bedroom, and he gasped in a breath to fill his lungs.
Dementors.
He sprang out of bed, grasping for a wand that was not there. His eyes bolted from side to side, seeking the demon that he knew was just around the corner. Jim's lifeless eyes, Tonks lifted by the throat by a shriveled arm, Sirius's soul leaving his cold blue lips, all raced across his mind and spurred his body into action.
No wand. I still have to fight.
His magic responded to his desperation and emerald sparks leapt to his hands as he backed himself into the corner of the room, his breathing heavy, sweat pouring off of him.
A flash of movement, a shadow so close to where he had been asleep and defenseless. He whirled to the right, magic at his fingertips, ready to be unleashed.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Harry! It's me!"
At the sound of the familiar voice, Harry froze. Sirius.
His godfather stood by the bed, hands outstretched in a sign of peace. "Deep breaths, Harry. You're in my house, you're safe." His godfather spoke in a calm, measured tone, his pale blue eyes soothing to Harry's wild green.
Harry lowered his hands and his magic flickered out of existence. He took deep breaths as he surveyed his surroundings. The room was sparsely decorated but clearly belonged to a wealthy family as evidenced by the intricately carved bed frame and the silver embellishments that gleamed in the candlelight. Despite this, the room was musty, the floor creaked with slight shifts of weight, and every footstep was followed by a wisp of dust.
Harry stuttered as he gathered his thoughts, "Sirius. No dementors? But the cold wind…"
"No, you're safe. It's Thursday afternoon in the middle of August, I cast a charm to keep the room at a bearable temperature." Sirius waved his wand as he spoke and the curtains to the window leapt aside and sunlight poured into the room. "You've been asleep for three days, Harry. Do you remember what happened?"
Too much had happened. "Yeah, I think so." He could still vaguely remember the ice in his veins, the sparking maelstrom as it exploded out of him. "Was anybody hurt? Are Hermione and Ron okay?"
Sirius nodded, "They're fine, definitely worried about you, but no real harm done." Sirius paused as if trying to piece together exactly how to say what he wanted to say. "That said, you came close to crossing a line, Harry… Have you ever heard of an obscurial?"
Harry's thoughts froze in place for a moment before the beginnings of a plan started to form in his mind. "Yeah, Professor Lupin taught us about them. They are children who lose control of their magic, right? What do they have to do with anything?" An ugly thought wormed its way into his head. Here is my excuse. I can figure out Voldemort on my own, I don't need to worry anyone else.
Sirius sucked in a breath, "You're getting close to magical maturity, but your core is still under the process of forming, and it is highly impressionable. You've been through a lot in the last month."
"I mean, you're not wrong. But I still have control of my magic." The visceral memory of a frigid entity erupting from him lanced through his veins. "Most of the time. There's no way I could be an obscurial."
"I'm not saying you are.. But your magic, Harry. It was comparable." Sirius ran his fingers through his hair, the seriousness of the topic at hand seemed to ill-suit him. "You see Harry, magic is not a tool that you can just wield without thought. There's a reason why there are limits you shouldn't cross, and structure to what you learn in school."
"Magic is primordial life, it has intent, hell, it is intent. Not just your own. Obscuri form because of repressed emotion, shame, and self hatred. Magic will only take so much abuse from its wielder before it takes control over the situation."
The darker part of him, the one that was convinced that keeping his secrets close to his chest, was overjoyed at the logical sense that this theory held. If Sirius wanted to believe that Harry's magic was just a result of repressed emotion, then he would let the man believe it.
On the other hand, he knew that he should tell Sirius the truth, that Voldemort had spoken to him, that he had a piece of the madman's soul and all that it entailed. Here was his chance to relieve himself of this ugly truth, to trust another with his shame.
But what could Sirius do? Hermione's terrified eyes, her quaking voice permeated his mind. He had just gotten his godfather back into his life, he couldn't alienate the man now. He couldn't risk having his godfather look at him with those same eyes.
He came to a decision, and with it, a resigned satisfaction settled into his gut. "You're right Sirius. I've been repressing too much, with the Dark Lord's resurrection, Cedric dying, and the dementors, I just haven't had time to process it. I messed up." Crocodile tears filled his eyes, and Harry felt a sharp pang of disgust at his own manipulations, as necessary as they were.
Sirius winced imperceptibly at the mention of Voldemort's title, but laid a soothing hand on Harry's shoulder. "Nymphadora told us what happened with your friend, the old man. I'm sorry, Harry. You shouldn't have to deal with this mess, by all rights it was my generation's fight. But I'm here now if you need to talk about anything, whenever you're ready."
Harry bowed and shook his head. If his godfather had known him any better he probably wouldn't have been fooled by this facade. "Thank you, Sirius. I'll be ready to talk, I just need a little time." He paused, knowing that he had to change the subject before he lost his conviction, "Who the hell is Nymphadora?"
For the first time since Harry had arrived in his house, Sirius cracked a smile. "Tonks. You know, the pink haired witch whose life you saved. Or have you saved so many maidens that you've lost count?"
He smiled, but hopefully Sirius wouldn't notice that his green eyes lacked an accompanying mirth. "Oh yeah, she doesn't like her first name, right?"
"My cousin Andromeda may have been banished from my family, but she chose to keep the tradition of 'let's give our children the most ridiculous names possible' alive. Come to think of it, I got off pretty easy with 'Sirius,' I can even make stupid, overused jokes with it!"
Harry rolled his eyes, his anxiety receding as the topic shifted away from his secrets, the scent of pipe tobacco putting him strangely at ease. "You can't be serious."
The man in question grinned and wagged his eyebrows "See, you get it!"
Despite the rather weak humor, Harry had to laugh at Sirius's lively reaction. "So, you and Tonks are related, huh? Small world."
"We're two purebloods, it would be more surprising if we weren't. You made quite an impression on her, you know? Couldn't stop singing your praises. Even after your outburst she nearly cursed Snivellous when he was bad mouthing you."
"I'll have to thank her for that. But then again," Harry scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "Apparently, she and some guy named Mundungus had a bet going if I was a beater for the other team, so now we're even. Now that I know you two are related, her sense of humor makes a lot more sense."
Sirius barked out a laugh, "That's Tonksie, even when she was a toddler she was getting into trouble, saying things she shouldn't." He stroked his mustache, his grin warming, his eyes softening, "Loyal, too. She was a 'Puff in Hogwarts to boot; I'd say that you've found yourself a good friend, Harry."
Harry couldn't help but agree.
"Speaking of the Black family, by the way." Sirius rummaged in the pocket of his overcoat, pulling out a small box so black that it seemed to absorb the light in the room. "I wanted to give you this."
Harry took the box out of Sirius's hand, slightly surprised by the weight of it, and opened it gingerly. "It's a ring."
Sirius nodded, "I found out after I escaped Azkaban that even though my saint of a mother blasted me off of our family tree, the old man never got around to putting in the paperwork to kick me out. Since I'm the last adult male of the Black line, that makes me the head. And you, as my Godson, are my heir."
Harry regarded the ring in his palm with renewed interest. It too was dark as the depths of an underwater cavern miles below the surface, save for an etching of what must be the Black family crest. "Toujours Pur, Always Pure?"
"That's a crock of shite, Harry. Always has been, always will be. You'd never convince my dear mum of that, but despite her best efforts there are a few decent folks in my family. Andromeda and her family for example."
"Anyone else?"
Sirius ran his fingers through his hair, "Come to think of it… Not really! But the important thing about that ring is that it gives you rights in this society that the 'common folk' are not permitted. Antiquated, yes, but if anyone deserves to benefit from the system it's you."
Harry's eyes widened, "Do you think this will help me with the hearing then?"
Sirius winced, "More like a trial now. Fudge has decided that your situation is worthy of a full gathering of the Wizengamot, closed to the public, the whole nine yards."
"Are you serious?" Sirius opened his mouth to speak with a gleam in his eye, but Harry cut him off with a glare, "Don't even think about it, once was more than enough."
Sirius sank into a mock pout, his eyes reminding Harry of those of a scorned puppy. "Fine, go ahead and kill all the fun."
"Yeah, this conversation has been loads of fun, Sirius."
"Point taken. But back to the important bit, since you're going to be alone up there for this hearing, you have a lot to learn to take advantage of your new status. Dumbledore has come up with a plan for you and it involves you spending a whole lot of time in the house's library learning our history."
Harry's eyes darkened at the mention of the headmaster's name, "I think I've had enough of Dumbledore's plans, to be honest. Why hasn't he told me anything, Sirius? Why has he kept me isolated, and why the hell isn't he here to explain himself now?" By the end of his line of questioning he couldn't keep the venom out of his voice, and Sirius flinched at his godson's vitriol.
After a pregnant pause, Harry unclenched his fists and took a deep breath, "Sorry. I'm frustrated, and I really do need to talk to him."
For the first time, Harry saw his Godfather at a complete loss for words. His pale blue eyes were downcast, fingers fiddling at his side, his mouth moving as if an explanation was a hair's breadth away, but none was forthcoming.
Finally, Sirius met his eyes with a sad smile. "This isn't what you want to hear, and I don't necessarily deserve this, but I need you to trust me. Albus is a flawed man, but he is the only leader we have right now. I won't lie to you, you can't speak to him, and he gave us good reasons that he needs to keep his distance from you for the time being. It's not fair, I'm not sure that it's right, but there's not much about this whole war that's fair or right."
Mind racing, Harry could only speak in a hoarse whisper, "But, why? Why do you choose to follow him then?"
Sirius reached out and placed a firm hand on Harry's shoulder, accompanied by an even firmer look. "Because James and I thought we knew better than Dumbledore during the last war. And it cost James his life, you, your childhood, and me, almost everything else. I will not make the same mistake again. I'm sorry, Harry, I know that this is rough on you, but I promise you that it's for the best."
Harry swallowed, struggling to come to terms with what Sirius had told him. He couldn't fault his godfather's reasoning, even if the thought of the bearded old wizard filled him with fury at the moment. Deep down, however, he was satisfied that apparently he was not the only one with hidden motives.
He took a deep breath and met Sirius's eyes. "I understand. I hate what he's done, Sirius, I really do. But if you say he has his reasons, I trust you."
"James would have been furious too, you know. His friends were everything to him."
Harry nodded, a steel resolve affirming itself in his breast; just like his father, he would put his friends first. He would shield them from the evil inside him, and he would eradicate it.
I'm ready to face them.
"Where are Ron and Hermione?"
Sirius glanced at the dusty, emerald-studded clock on the wall, "They're probably eating lunch with everyone else. Are you ready to go see them?"
Harry nodded and there was an awkward pause as godfather and godson stood face to face, emotions playing across their faces like an old photo reel.
Harry broke the silence, true tears coming to his eyes this time. "I missed you, Sirius."
Sirius's pale blue eyes were just as watery as he gathered the teenager in a warm embrace. "And I missed you, Harry. And I'm so proud."
Despite his godfather's words, a tight coiled ball of self-loathing settled into Harry's stomach at his own deception. Part of him was screaming in his chest to tell the truth about Voldemort, to just let the older man handle the burden, and he knew that this was his last chance to change his own path.
But he had spent his whole life shouldering his own load. He could do it for a little longer.
Moreover, there was one bitter truth that his conversation with Sirius had forced him to acknowledge; for all of his godfather's positive qualities, the man had been molded by his own failures and could not possibly be strong enough to help Harry.
I can figure this out, nobody else has to know. And no one else will get hurt.
XXX
As Harry and Sirius walked through the arched doorway that led to the kitchen, it was as if they stepped into a portal. The manic energy of the Burrow at lunchtime had been transported to an old manor in London; Ron and Ginny argued loudly about the former's eating habits while Hermione shook her head in exasperation. Mrs. Weasley directed a chorus of kitchen utensils with waves of her wand while her boisterous voice rang out, admonishing the Weasley twins as they popped in and out of existence incessantly.
A smile snuck its way onto Harry's face. It felt like home.
"Boys! BOYS! I swear, whoever is responsible for the next pop is cleaning the third floor bathroom! Without magic! You have your licenses for two weeks and you still act like children with their first training wand!And when your father hears about this, mind you, the man who cleans up messes made by hooligans like you for a living¸ he will be livid!"
Fred, or perhaps it was George, froze in place mid turn, before slowly meeting the eyes of his twin across the room. A twinkle in their identical eyes alerted Harry to what was going to happen before it happened.
Together, they shouted, "Sorry, Mum!" as they popped out of existence one last time. They did not reappear.
And Molly Weasley was not happy. "FRED! GEORGE! YOU WILL COME BACK DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT OR I SWEAR ON MY LEFT TI-" finally, she made eye contact with a grinning Harry, and the words died in her mouth, her face still an impressive shade of red.
There was a moment of silence as the others in the kitchen followed the Weasley matriarch's gaze while she stood shaking, tears welling up in her eyes. Harry had just enough time to give Ginny a small smile before Mrs. Weasley shot like a cannonball across the kitchen and took Harry in her arms, squeezing the life out of him until he felt like a mostly empty tube of toothpaste.
A few seconds before his lungs finally gave out, Molly finally released him. "Harry, my dear, you're all right! You must be more careful dear; you can't let your anger go from one to one hundred or you'll drive yourself insane! Trust me, I raised six boys, I know what I'm talking about!"
"Of course, Mrs. Weasley, I'm sorry. I won't let it happen again."
"Nonsense, nonsense, Harry. You had a rough go of it, of course no one blames you!"
As she continued to fuss over the young wizard like a mother cat over her kitten, Harry looked over her shoulder and found the eyes of the two he was worried most about.
Ron had a huge grin of his own on his freckled face, obviously taking great satisfaction in the position his best friend found himself in. "Just let Mum do her thing, mate. It will all be over soon."
Harry smiled back at him, the knot of worry in his chest undoing itself ever-so-slightly.
He turned to Hermione, and his anxiety returned full force and leapt into his throat. His best friend had risen to her feet, the same look of vulnerability on her face that had been present the last time they had seen each other. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear Mrs. Weasley chastising her youngest son for something or the other, but in that moment there was only Hermione.
He couldn't speak, he didn't know what to say. He could only mouth the words, "I'm sorry, Hermione," in the hope that the look in his eyes would translate the rest. Bright green met chocolate brown.
And for the second time in as many minutes, Harry was the target of a human collision. Hermione was in his arms, his nose was tickled by thick brown hair, and he knew that everything would be okay. He really was home.
XXX
After a brief period of awkwardness at lunch, the three friends had begun to act as if nothing had ever come between them. A taciturn agreement not to bring up their illustrious headmaster was certainly an elephant in the room, but one that could be ignored in favor of enjoying each other's company.
Ron was currently regaling Harry with a recounting of the twins' antics as they tried to spy on the Order while Hermione read a collection of case studies that would aid in Harry's upcoming trial. She had stayed physically close to Harry all day after their moment in the kitchen; even now she sat against the arm of their shared sofa with her feet outstretched and tucked underneath Harry's legs. She was seemingly unaware of the contact herself as she errantly chewed on a piece of her own hair as she read.
Harry had no idea how to handle such a situation, so instead he focused on Ron's exuberant storytelling.
"So when Tonks tripped over the mop bucket-"
"No way!"
"The bloody water flew in a perfect arc-"
"You've got to be kidding me."
"And drenched Fred and George-"
"And washed away the invisibility lotion? What are the odds?"
"That's what I said! That was the last time they tried to sneak into the meetings in person. Since then they've been trying to spy at a distance."
"Wait, wait, wait. Back up a bit. Does the invisibility lotion work on clothes?
"Despite all their testing, no it does not."
"So, when they were discovered...?"
"Completely starkers. In front of Snape, no less."
"Professor Snape, Ronald." Hermione chimed in for the first time in a bit, correcting Ron almost as if by reflex.
"That slimy git is lucky that I don't take a page out of Sirius's book and call him Professor Snivellus."
Harry sighed as his two best friends began to quarrel; he had missed this. Already the presence of his friends had distracted him from the troubles that had plagued him recently. However, he couldn't help but feel as if something were missing. He and Ron bantered as usual, but a part of himself was always on guard; he knew that if he let something slip it would cause more problems than it was worth.
Hermione was even harder to fool, as she had a keen eye for secrets and an even sharper desire to take care of her friends. What was more, Harry learned that she would be helping him conduct research for his upcoming trial and would be spending the majority of their time together in the library. Ron, of course, offered to help as well, but had begged off within the hour to join in some of his brothers' antics.
When Sirius had shown Harry to the library, he had made his godson swear that he wouldn't poke his nose into the darker tomes. While Harry had agreed, he knew that he couldn't let the opportunity to learn more about the magic that bound Voldemort to him. If one of the most traditionally dark pureblood families didn't house the knowledge to free himself from this curse, he didn't know where would.
Regardless, for the moment the impending trial had to take precedence. What is more, his study partner wouldn't exactly condone his behavior if he began delving into Darkest Secrets of Arts Moste Foule, or Subjugation of the Mind.
A kick against his thigh roused him from his reminiscence, "Harry, would you please tell Ron that he is being a prat?"
"Ron, I wasn't even listening, but you're probably being a prat."
Ron folded his arms, "Look, all I'm saying is that all of us are going into our fifth year and none of us have really dated anyone before."
Harry blinked. He had his head in the clouds for longer than he thought. How exactly did we get to this topic?
Ron continued, "I for one, wouldn't mind if I found myself in a broom cupboard with Lavender Brown. Have you seen what she's been growing? Her t-"
"I swear to God, Ronald, if you finish that sentence I won't let you look at my Transfiguration notes ever again."
Ron scratched his chin, pretending to mull over his options. "Hmm... Just Transfiguration notes, or are any other subjects on the table?" Hermione merely huffed and looked at Harry pointedly.
Harry took his cue "Ron. My friend. Trust me. You need those notes. Besides, you were wrong in the first place. Our girl Hermione here dated Krum last year, remember?"
Hermione blushed pink, "I did not date Viktor. He merely escorted me to the ball and offered me an opportunity to learn about another wizarding culture from a primary source. Did you know that Bulgarians-"
Harry cut her off with a laugh, "Don't worry 'Mione, unlike Ron here I don't think that you should be tried for treason for dating one of my competitors."
"Mate, I already apologized for being a git, okay?"
"We weren't dating!"
Harry sighed. He had definitely missed this.
XXX
The week preceding the trial had passed entirely too fast. Harry's days were spent studying Magical Law and any case study that had the barest resemblance to his own situation. Though his status as an heir to an Ancient House would normally guarantee his acquittal, it was impressed upon him by Sirius that he would most certainly be facing a hostile crowd.
Thus, his case had to be airtight, well-referenced, and above all, he had to look the part.
As Harry entered the grand chamber, he could feel the eyes of his jury bear down upon him, and he knew he was already being silently judged.
His hair was slicked back and tied in a traditional pureblood fashion, his face bore no emotion, and he walked with a practiced grace as he made his way to the center of the courtroom. He wore a pair of Regulus Black's formal robes, and he noticed a few raised eyebrows at the shimmering, embroidered House of Black coat of arms on his back.
Good.
To Harry's fury, he recognized the forms of a few of the Death Eaters who had been present during the Dark Lord's resurrection sitting with the members of government seated in the upper balconies. He locked eyes with Lucius Malfoy, who quickly looked away in an uncharacteristically demure fashion.
Remembering Voldemort's vow to punish the elder Malfoy, Harry couldn't help but smirk, but quickly schooled his features in his best impression of nobility; a persona that would be vital for his forthcoming defense.
A stern-faced woman with curly brown hair streaked with grey, rose to her feet. "I, Amelia Bones, as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, declare the disciplinary hearing for Harry James Potter to hereby commence. All rise for the honorable Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge."
The shuffling of seventy-two witches and wizards echoed throughout the gallery as the assembled lords and ladies of Wizengamot rose to their feet.
Cornelius Fudge was dressed in all the pomp and splendor that he undoubtedly believed he deserved, his robes streaked with royal purple and dark crimson and trimmed with glittering gold. His usual bowler hat had been exchanged for a garish headpiece that would have been at the height of fashion in the late sixteenth century, a purple pompadour wavering precariously with his every step. As soon as he regarded the young Potter his face twisted in a grimace as if he had smelled something quite foul.
As he settled into an equally ostentatiously decorated seat next to a woman with the face of a toad and the fashion sense of a six-year-old obsessed with the color pink, his action was mimicked by the assembled lords and ladies of Wizengamot.
Harry himself regarded the stiff wooden chair adorned with chains and manacles and raised a single eyebrow at the Minister.
The Minister drawled with a condescending drip to his voice, "Perhaps you are not aware of the traditions of this great body, Mr. Potter, but when the Minister of Magic sits, then his assembly follows suit."
Harry steeled himself for what he was about to do. Though he had rehearsed the lines hundreds of times, the privacy of the Black Library was a far cry from the official conference of the Magical British Government.
"I am aware of the traditions, Minister. However, as Heir to the Ancient House of Black, and while there is no representation of my Family among the assembled Lords, I demand an adequate seat in the balconies among my equals, as is my right."
The air left the room as dozens gasped at once. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry could see flashes of cameras from among the press boxes and he absently wondered if he cut a striking figure as he glared up at the Minister, or if he merely looked like a child out of his depth. He knew which he felt like in any case.
Fudge flushed a beet-red as he sputtered, "That is a preposterous claim, Potter. If you seek to make a fool out of the Ministry as you have clearly been trying to do for over a month, you will have to do better than that!"
In response, Harry lifted a hand, repressing a wry chuckle as the woman by the Minister's side flinched. Upon his middle finger sat the gleaming obsidian jewel of House Black's ring, its coat of arms matching the embroidery on Harry's robes.
"Unless the traditions have been abolished along with the Ministry's common sense in the last month, then I believe that this will adequately prove my claim?"
The chamber erupted in pandemonium, the camera flashes now blinding as the members of Wizengamot argued amongst themselves. The stern-faced woman from earlier called for order, yet she was unheeded as the politicians in the balconies processed the repercussions of such a statement.
"The House of Black has returned!"
"How the hell does the boy have a claim to the bloodline!"
"His grandmother was a Black, but shouldn't the Malfoy heir have a stronger claim?"
"How is this possible?"
Fudge himself had gone white as a sheet as soon as he focused upon the ring on Harry's finger. Though the man held no great intellect or instinct for leadership, he was a deft hand at the politics with which he had embroiled himself for his entire adult life. He knew what that ring represented, just as he knew that this simple hearing had just become a battleground that he had not been prepared to participate in. Moreover, it was a trap that he himself had built for himself.
The woman at his side, however, had neither the acumen nor the tact to keep silent. "That ring does not belong on your finger, Potter! I don't know how you have managed to lay your lying, greedy little hands on it but you will be punished by all the authority of the Minister himself!"
Her irritatingly shrill call pierced through the boisterous chamber and silenced the congregation, and after wincing at the pitch of her voice, Harry could only gape at her in astonishment. The Minister grimaced and subtly leaned away from the toad-faced witch as if to distance himself physically from her words.
Madame Bones regarded the woman in pink with tired eyes and an even wearier voice, "Do you, Dolores Jane Umbridge, hereby accuse Harry James Potter of line theft? Do keep in mind the consequences of a false accusation carry with them a forfeiture of your titles and a minimum sentence of five years in Azkaban."
Umbridge gaped like a fish, her beady eyes seeking the solace of her beloved Minister, who studiously avoided the woman's very existence. She visibly deflated as she realized her error and responded in a sickly-sweet tone. "My apologies, Madame Bones. I was overcome by emotion and spoke out of line. I withdraw my statement."
Harry, still standing in the center of the lower platform, seized his opportunity. "Not only must the House of Black withstand the injustice of this farce of a trial, the indignity of a chair meant for sentenced criminals, but now I am accused by the Minister's office of yet another heinous crime? I renounce my former request; I find myself loathe to share a platform with the Minister. If this ridiculous trial must go forward, I will defend myself from this spot."
He could not help but mimic Voldemort's icy tone, even if it made him sick to his stomach. It was far too useful to not take advantage of, and it had the added effect of causing Malfoy and his cohorts in the balcony to shudder.
Cornelius Fudge hid his face behind steepled fingers, silent as he pondered his next move. He was utterly trapped, and both he and the teenager below him knew it. The Black heirship allowed Harry countless opportunities to defend himself, and Fudge could not challenge those defenses without undermining the traditions of their government and alienating the pureblood majority.
Luckily for the Minister, he was saved by Amelia Bones. "Mr. Potter. Though your displeasure with the Minister is noted, and perhaps warranted, may I remind you that these proceedings are under my purview." She had a hardness to her eyes that was matched by her authoritative tone. She had clearly not appreciated Harry's arrogance, and moreover, the Minister's own attempts to impede on her duties.
"You stand here to answer a simple charge. Did you or did you not perform the Patronus Charm on August the Second of this year?"
Harry drew himself to his full height, his icy tone fading as he met Bones' eyes. "Yes, I did."
Umbridge squealed in triumph but was silenced by a quick glare from Fudge, his face stony but his eyes blazing, an image of sternness slightly spoiled by his ridiculous purple hat toppling to the ground.
Ignoring the disruption, Amelia continued, "Under what circumstances was this charm performed, Mr. Potter?"
"The only circumstances that warrant such a response, Madame Bones. The presence of two dementors in my neighborhood."
Once more, the chamber erupted, but this time it was short-lived as Bones banged her gavel immediately. "There has been enough childish behavior in this courtroom today to shame this body for a generation. Do not allow it to continue." She turned back to Harry, yet her eyes danced between the teenage wizard and the Minister's box, her mouth drawn taut. "That is a serious claim, Mr. Potter. I trust that you are aware of the repercussions of such a statement?"
Harry followed her eyes to the Minister's box and his own widened in understanding.
Those motherfuckers.
It seemed that Voldemort had not been lying. He had not been responsible for the dementor attack, and judging by the actions of the Minister's office, Harry had a good idea of who was guilty.
His mind raced and his anger threatened to freeze over. Jim's lifeless eyes consumed him once more and he trembled with fury, his hand itching to draw his wand and make the Minister pay. The man in question would not meet his eyes, but Umbridge met his glare with an unbalanced expression of clearly feigned innocence.
He could feel the ice beginning to pump through his veins, and Sirius's stern words broke through his psyche and he closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath. He knew what this path would lead to, and now was not the time to lose control.
When he opened his eyes, the cold anger had been replaced by his former stoic façade and he met Madame Bone's gaze. "I understand that there are many possibilities for the dementors' presence, but as I gather, that is not the issue; I merely wish to prove my innocence. As Heir of the Ancient House of Black, I hereby offer my memories and sworn vows as evidence that my testimony is sound." Harry uttered this line with the precision of an actor reading from a well-studied script.
Fudge bowed his head, his headpiece once more falling to the ground, but he made no move to pick it up.
Amelia nodded her head, "These offerings are hereby noted, yet deemed unnecessary by this court at this time."
The members of Wizengamot began to whisper among themselves as they realized that only formalities stood in the way of a victorious political debut for Harry Potter, heir of House Black.
Harry continued, "Moreover, I offer as legal precedents the case of Wizengamot v. Cassius Malfoy, as well as the disciplinary hearings of Heir Julianus Nott and Heiress Pietra Lestrange, in which members of Ancient Houses defended themselves against lethal threats in the presence of muggles."
Bones nodded once more, "Legal precedents are hereby accepted into evidence, though under present leadership, I would not expect an Order of Merlin for your actions as was the case with Heir Nott." A ghost of a sarcastic smile graced her lips before she schooled herself. "Does the Minister's office have anything more to say on this matter?"
Umbridge looked as if she wanted to explode, but another look from Fudge quelled her, and the Minister spoke. "The office of Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, has no further statements to offer the court." Sweat gleaned from his chubby face, and coupled his bare, balding head, he struck a stark contrast to his own previous confidence.
"Very well. All in favor of finding the defendant guilty, please raise your wands."
The chamber stilled, and only a few of the gathered Lords dared to raise their wands. Even the pureblood faction who wanted nothing more than to bury Harry into the dirt would not vote against the traditions that had served them well and kept them in power.
"All opposed?"
This time, the room was filled with raised wands as if they were blades of grass sprouting from the earth in search of sunlight.
Amelia Bones was among those with a raised wand. "Then this court finds Harry James Potter, heir of the Ancient House of Black, not guilty on the count of misuse of magic in the presence of muggles. This court is hereby dismissed."
XXXXXX
That's it for this week, folks. Next chapter will be coming out next Saturday, June 12th, and I must say, I can't wait. As always, your input is always appreciated, and if you'll excuse me, I'm off to smoke a cigarette of my own. And I'll be lighting it with a match. Because it just tastes better. ;)