September 19th, 1993
Ministry of Magic
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
Kingsley sighed, looking between the Minister for Magic, his wife, James Potter, Arthur Weasley, and Amelia Bones, the latter of whom - while calmer than Delia - seemed just as irritated. Admittedly, the situation was incredibly fraught and one with a seemingly never ending array of moving pieces. Considering that, too, no one had ever been capable of escaping from Azkaban until now, the stakes were also higher. Tension was high from the top of the ministry down, all department heads and the minister himself stretched to the breaking point, and, with everyone including the lower downs were increasingly working overtime, it was unsurprising. The best thing to be said about the situation was that no one had died, but the mere possibility that it could happen at any time was one that left everyone feeling on tenterhooks. Waiting to analyse the situation further was looking to be less and less of an option and, beyond that, no one was particularly eager to risk something going even more wrong. Then again, how much further down could things fall?
"I'm completely serious," Kingsley flatly replied, and Amelia swore under her breath. "The information from the muggles and their PM has been that Black is moving through the country and potentially stalking people, and there's almost a never ending stream of witches and wizards terrified that they've seen the grim and are going to become victims of Black."
"Well, that superstition is not one even worth noting," Amelia replied, managing to keep her voice steady despite the stress. "But it does, at least, provide insight into the public's response to the situation. I can't say I blame anyone for being terrified, but I am a bit disappointed that people are still buying into that superstitious nonsense."
"If I may," Arthur said, and, hearing no protest from Amelia or anyone else, went on. "As the muggles would say about their own superstitions, to quote one of their most famous, a mister P. T. Barnum, 'there's a sucker born every minute.' It's a bit cut and dry, but it is an accurate sentiment."
Delia raised an eyebrow. "How is that useful at all? People are going to believe whatever the hell calls to them. I don't think the fact people are superstitious and therefore more scared of Black is the problem, I think -"
"I think it's that we're searching for an innocent man who didn't get the chance for a fair trial," James cut in, getting surprised and dark looks from everyone else in the room. "I've made the point a fair bit, so I'm not going to underscore it again because none of you seem willing to listen, but -"
"Nothing in the evidence suggests he's innocent," Cornelius hesitated, pushing aside the horrible memory that he and Delia both knew more than well had been haunting him ever since the escape. "At the very least, he's dangerous, and that in and of itself is a problem."
"Regardless, we all should keep in mind that we're no closer to capturing Black than we are to fostering peace between the French and British ministries," Arthur said, sending Fudge a dark look. " I know we have to prevent hysteria and mass panic, but -"
"None of us like having to tell the Prophet we're making good headway," Amelia cut in. "Let's not underscore the fact."
"And I'd also like to be able to tell my son the entire truth, even though we have to keep most of it to ourselves for the sake of both the investigation and preventing a disaster from public panic," James sent Fudge, Delia, and Amelia a pointed look. "I know the concerns, but Harry deserves to know."
"The idea would torment him," Cornelius countered. "Knowing that the man who is likely out to kidnap and potentially do God knows what to him is his godfather."
"He's not going to do anything stupid!" James stared at him incredulously. "And, besides, he already knows Sirius is looking for him."
Everyone turned to him in disbelief.
"How the hell is that possible?" Delia scowled at him. "I forced you to take an Unbreakable Vow!"
"Yes, but he overheard myself, Arthur, and Molly arguing about the situation," James forced himself not to sound somewhat smug about the loophole. "So that holds nothing."
"It might," Kingsley cautiously said. "But that might not be the best idea, right now. Let him at least have until the winter holidays. He needs to focus on his studies for as long as possible, after all."
September 26th, 1993
Coventry
There were several people Sirius had not expected to see in a stop down south, but the Minister's eldest child was high on the list. It was only three in the afternoon, but she was drinking wine with a friend who looked about two years older than her, with dark hair and a round face. Both women were dressed comfortably, in leggings and sweatshirts with funky designs on them, and both seemed perfectly unaware of their surroundings in one of Britain's other hidden wizarding shoppe hubs. He tried not to laugh at the large gilded glasses and pink-purple hair split down the middle, adorned with large butterfly clips the Minister's eldest also had, but a small snicker still escaped him. To his relief, they didn't notice, though the closer he got the more amused he felt when he saw how high her voice was and her American accent. Her friend, in contrast, had a more normally pitched voice, and a Brummy accent, which was not in and of itself particularly surprising.
What was most startling was the fact they were there.
If either of them saw through him, he would be completely done for.
"...Jess, I'm gay and spent most of my life until uni being just one of the boys. What else would you expect? Of course I have the sense of humour of a ten year old boy!"
"...Well, happy nineteenth. And, yes, the first time I saw a dick, I started laughing. You wouldn't know, but I can assure you they do look funny."
"...Which do you prefer? Since you like both, that is."
"...I don't quite know. But it's always fun to joke about. It's great to know you're not fazed by much, and that you find things that either disgust or make you uncomfortable hilarious."
"...How else should I handle discomfort? It's bloody effective!"
The two women started laughing, and, against his will, a sharp pang of longing beat through his chest, slamming against him over and over.
That should be me, Remus, and James. Like things always should have been.
Fuck you Peter. Fuck you for putting me in a position that ruined everything.
He barely noticed where he was going, at least until he bumped into the table where the two women were sitting. He jumped back, sure that he was more startled than they were, and they both were, thankfully, holding their wine when it happened, nothing spilling or getting damaged.
"You drunk?" The woman he assumed was called - from what he had heard - Jess stared at him, her eyebrows raised so high they almost met her hairline. "Or," She started giggling. "Stoned?"
He stared at them for a moment and then shook his head. "Sorry, wasn't paying attention," He glanced to her friend, who was scowling at him. Despite knowing better and despite the knot forming in his stomach, he said: "Aren't you Minister Fudge's eldest?"
She narrowed her eyes. "You a cop?"
Pretty much the opposite. He forced himself not to laugh at the thought. "Nope," He said, relieved to be able to say something true for once since he'd left Azkaban.
"I'm the Minister's daughter," She rolled her eyes. "Though daddy tries to avoid being public as much as possible. Mommy too. It's too much pressure."
"I'd believe that."
"You look familiar," Jess remarked.
His blood ran cold. No.
She went on: "Are you a regular around here?"
"Yes," He lied. "You?"
"Sort of," She shrugged. "Usually prefer muggle pubs, where we usually frequent, but what's the fun in life if you don't get to use magic freely sometimes?"
I know the feeling all too well. Can't even describe how it felt to finally be able to have my hands on and use a wand again nearly the second I was out.
"Do you know him?" Caity asked.
"No," Jess said, and, the second her friend wasn't watching, she briefly sent him a suspicious look, one that seemed to be almost too omniscient. "Just making friendly conversation."
September 30th, 1993
Hogwarts
"Seeing Malfoy get scratched by that hippogriff is still the highlight of my life so far," Ron remarked when he, Harry, Hermione, and Eddie sat down in the library. "Though seeing Eddie's face that same day when I thought I saw a bowler hat in Harry's tea leaves and remarked it might mean he'll work for the ministry was a close second."
Eddie kicked him under the table. "You take every opportunity to take jabs at me because of my parents' quirks, don't you?"
Ron shrugged. "It's not hard."
"In fairness, you take jabs at his parents too," Hermione said, opening a couple of her books. "I think it's an even trade."
Harry laughed. "You should keep a running tally."
"Maybe I should."
Eddie and Ron leaned over when she pulled out a blank roll of parchment, both of them high fiving when she neatly wrote their names on it and, under that, drew a perfectly straight line down the rest of the parchment, leaving an even inch at the bottom so it was equal to the top. Harry took a glance at it too, still laughing when she gave Ron a point.
"What are you kids up to?"
Fred and George smirked when they joined the three of them, looking dangerously happy.
"Just starting a running tally of how Ron and I take jabs at each other's parents," Eddie told them.
"Awesome," George said, high fiving the two of them. "Perfect timing for us, then. Fred?"
"We got something for you guys," Fred told them. "As a present of sorts for surviving to your third year."
"Yep," George agreed. "Seriously, we've got this thing, and it's gold."
"Not literally of course," Fred quickly added, then winking at Eddie. "And, before you ask, yes, your parents would strongly disapprove."
Eddie grinned. "Show us!"
Hermione frowned, looking over all of them in disapproval.
"We came here to study together, you know."
Fred waved her off. "This won't take very long."
George pulled out a folded piece of parchment and slid it in between Ron, Eddie, and Harry. Then, he tapped his wand against it:
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
The parchment came to life, and Fred slowly pulled it all the way open to show a full and moving map of the castle.
"Thought you three would appreciate it," He said with a self satisfied smirk. "And George and I have got it committed to memory. Nicked it from Filch during our first year when we were just innocent little kids. Have learned every trick we know with its help ever since."
Hermione's gaze narrowed further. "That's not a good thing. You two are notorious troublemakers."
"I disagree," Harry said, poring over the map in awe. "This is brilliant!"
"Completely!" Ron agreed, though he turned to glare at his brothers. "I'm a bit offended you didn't share this with me sooner! I'm your brother!"
Fred shrugged. "You have to earn these things."
"And the four of you have finally earned it," George added. "Sorry Hermione, but you're part of this whether you like it or not."
"So, how do we blank it?" Eddie pressed.
"That's a good question," Ron paused and then turned to Harry. "You hold onto it. I don't think Eddie and I want to have that responsibility and Hermione will just hand it over to McGonagall."
Hermione scowled but said nothing more. Disapproval or not, she knew as well as they did that she wouldn't turn them over for anything.
"You just tap it and say 'mischief managed' and it'll blank," George told Harry.
He nodded and tapped the parchment. "Mischief managed!"
Almost immediately, it blanked and neatly folded itself up. Harry grinned and slipped it into his pocket, more than a little excited to get to use it.
"Well, I guess we know what we're doing after our first trip to Hogsmeade," Ron joked.
"Hell yeah!" Eddie declared.
Harry laughed, "You two are impossible…but right. This is definitely gold."
Fred bowed and winked dramatically. "We tell no lies."
"Except to get out of trouble," George amended. "But that's self explanatory."