October 2nd, 1993
Hogwarts

"So, what should we do today?"

Eddie grinned, walking backwards, Harry, Ron, and Hermione with him. Hermione in particular seemed rather concerned, though whether it was for all of them or just him was unclear. It could easily have gone either way. Harry and Ron, however, were just as excited to be going out on a Hogsmeade weekend. Fred and George were, supposedly, also out though whether or not they were ditching on detentions was unclear. Either way, nearly everyone was out, and it was getting colder, though not cold enough to snow, a fact which disappointed just about all of them. The closer they got to the town, the more excitement that could be heard buzzing in the air, and, for once, Harry found himself able to forget about and not feel the dementors that lingered around the castle and nearly everywhere else. A never-ending nightmare of sorts had begun to arise everytime he left, but to not have to feel that was damn near a miracle in and of itself.

"One of these days we're going to accidentally run into one or both of your parents and I'm sure whatever you're doing you think your mum won't approve of will horrify her," Hermione remarked, grabbing Eddie and turning him around before he could walk into a fence. "I think you might be more situationally unaware than Ron."

"Hey!" Ron protested. "It's not my fault you caught me off guard and caused me to fall into that wall of teacups in Divination. And at this point, I'm pretty sure you're just trying to fuck with Trelwany."

"Agreed," Harry said, bumping his fist against Ron's. "I'm surprised you haven't dropped the class."

Hermione scowled. "Just because I don't like a subject doesn't mean I don't see the value in examining it."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "So, really, you're saying that you're too damn stubborn to admit there's finally something you aren't good at and are therefore going to find a way to be utterly and persistently annoying about it."

"Sounds about right to me," Eddie remarked.

"I'm with them," Harry sighed when Hermione's gaze darkened even further. "Look, Hermione, it's fine, if anything at least you distract from the fact she seems to keep trying to predict my death every class."

"Your aura is passing!" Hermione dramatically mimicked, grabbing Ron by the arm and tugging him so hard he yelped. "Are you in the beyond?"

"I will be if you rip my arm off, Merlin's beard, Hermione!" Ron shook himself out. "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pull that hard," She brushed herself off, laughing. "Oh, come now, Ron, I didn't hurt your pride that badly, did I?"

Ron rolled his eyes, starting to laugh himself. "You wish, Hermione, you fucking wish."

"Are you two going to duel?" Eddie looked almost too excited by the prospect. "It was too bad you didn't get the chance to in duelling club last year!"

"No, that was a relief," Ron said. "That git Lockhart probably would have gotten someone killed if he'd made that shit go on beyond Harry and Malfoy's spat."

Harry sent him a dark look. "I thought we swore to never speak of that."

"I don't recall that," Hermione said, eyeing him strangely. "Are you embarrassed, by chance?"

"More annoyed, actually," He replied. "Malfoy gets in the way of everything. It's as if he wants to know where I am at every second and when I sneeze just so he can find a way to torture me. Or knock me off my broom. Or -"

"You were right," Ron nudged Eddie. "Your sister should've kicked Malfoy's ass."

The four of them started to laugh, Hermione even falling over into a pile of leaves, but the levity of the moment was only short lived. In the distance - no more than fifty metres away from them - a large, black dog was staring, almost perfectly still, watching Harry.

"You alright mate?" Ron waved a hand in front of his face. "Oi, Harry, something wrong?"

He blinked and then shook his head. "No," He said, starting to walk towards the village with them again. "No, it's nothing. Something must have gotten caught in my glasses."

October 5th, 1993
London

"Do me a favour, James, and please let this go," Delia sent him a pointed look and pushed a glass of wine towards him. "And stop overthinking. You're going to be a disaster if you keep trying to work like this. It isn't healthy."

"I found something, though," He pushed a surprisingly thick file towards her. "I found it in some of the muggle police files. Alternative events, evidence. They got quite a bit of physical evidence from the scene before anyone from the ministry got there."

Delia raised an eyebrow. "I'd ask if you obtained this legally but at this point I don't care and, frankly, it's not in no-maj legal jurisdiction anyway."

"At least have it sent for review in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," James watched while she opened the file, beginning to leaf through it. "Well, at least recommend they look over it with me so I seem less mad and will be taken more seriously."

Delia glanced up at him, her eyes narrow.

"Just because I'm willing to sign on requesting a formal review of this with you does not mean I think you're right."

James gaped at her for a few seconds. "You're kidding."

"Absolutely not," She replied, continuing to look through the top few files. "It's a proper procedure, and I told you that if you are going to be this irritating about it, then it might as well be handled formally. It is a formality and nothing more. By no means does this suggest I think you're right, though I will take a full look at the copies of these documents myself after I sign on the request with you. Tomorrow morning okay?"

James was silent, a bit stunned. He then reached for the wine and took a heavy sip, his mind spinning almost uncontrollably.

"Yeah, I can sign on the request with you as soon as I get to work tomorrow morning," He finally said. "I'm not entirely convinced you haven't gone mad, though."

"Look," Delia said, her fingers beginning to anxiously tap against the table top. "I do not have any reason right now to think Sirius isn't a mass murderer. But I also have seen some folks get exonerated, typically of lesser charges, in the states. So, I'm willing to help you go through the procedure, but don't take that to mean I'm on your side, a crusader to get Sirius made a free, innocent man -"

"Okay, okay," James put a hand up to silence her, sighing when she merely scowled. "First, I think I should have known better than to question you on that, and, second, I'm now more convinced than ever that the only people you have any softness for are your husband and your kids."

Delia's gaze briefly flickered across the living room of her and Cornelius' row house, her eyes falling on a couple of family photographs, all of them still, in no-maj form off her insistence. Their most recent family portrait from just two months prior. All three of their kids on the day they'd been born. Their wedding…

"You worry about them a lot, don't you?"

She snapped towards him, startled. "What?"

"You seem distracted," James amended. "Are you worried about Cornelius and your kids?"

Delia sighed. "I'm always worried about Neil and the kids, but, yes, considering the state of things that is especially true."

"He'd never hurt them, you know. Or you, for that matter."

She eyed him closely for a few seconds and then shook her head.

"You need to stop trying to see the best in people, James. It's not going to get you anything good."

He raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you willing to help me in something that is only coming because I see and know the best of someone?"

"I already told you that," She said, pulling her wand out of her hair to set it down. "I have a lot of disagreements with you on this, James, but I will never disagree that every avenue should be explored, especially in a case as grave as this."

October 15th, 1993
Ministry of Magic

"That cannot be final!"

"It's not my choice. I'm not even technically employed here. Frankly, I'd bring it up with Amelia, considering that she's the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and therefore it's her final decision."

Arthur side stepped Delia, stopping the petite, American auror before she could step into her office and slam the door.

"We're already having to prepare for the Quidditch World Cup happening in England come August, I think repurposing rather than destroying these muggle artefacts could be useful," Arthur said calmly. "I mean as portkeys, that is."

"Again, take it up with Amelia, or, better yet, Barty."

He paused. "I should have thought of that," He sighed. "It's been a long few months. I don't think anyone's minds are in the right state."

"They certainly aren't," Kingsley jovially smiled, approaching them. "But we're finally getting back onto a more normal schedule for everyone."

"Thank God," Delia muttered. "And, to make sure I leave work at a reasonable hour for once, Kingsley, do you know if Barty is in today?"

"He is, why?"

She gestured to Arthur. "Just needs to help pushing for a change to an order regarding recently confiscated no-maj artefacts."

"I think he might have a couple of meetings later, but he's on break now."

Delia, standing between them, smirked. "Well," She said dryly. "Looks like I get to go have my phone call with my irritated boss in the states, Kingsley can get more reports on the absolute hell we're in because of Black, and Arthur can go get his artefacts handled his way. Though that shouldn't be hard considering that he's written some of the laws about those artefacts anyways."

The two men shared a briefly surprised but then knowing look.

"You just want Crouch to have a bad day, don't you?" Arthur eyed her strangely as she started off towards her office. "I'm going to assume that's the truth if you won't deny it!"

"And that is a fair assumption."

The door slammed shut behind her. As people continued to mill in and out of the corridor, for just a moment, the two men stood still. Within a few seconds, however, they were moving towards the lifts, and, surprisingly enough, it was empty when they stepped in.

"I've never understood what she and her husband have against Crouch," Kingsley remarked once the doors of the lift closed. "If I recall, Fudge intentionally had him pushed into the Department of International Cooperation, not that it was difficult or something anyone had an objection to considering the…controversy to say the least with his son."

"Crouch was favoured in the whigs for the top job when they regained control of the ministry's legislature," Arthur shook his head. "Of course, Dumbledore had been suggested to be drawn in from the outside many times, though that had been happening for nearly fifty years by that point. I will say, the tories weren't too pleased with any of the options, but regardless of all the tops among the whigs it was between Crouch and Fudge, and I don't think Fudge ever forgot how popular both Crouch and Dumbledore - though the latter to a lesser extent, of course - were."

Kingsley considered that. "All that aside, I don't think anyone has had much respect for Crouch since the debacle with his son. It may very well be personal, but, then again, I think anyone would have done something similar. If the tories had control, Amelia would be minister, and I think she'd have done the same thing."

"Barty is more than misguided, if that's what you're getting at," Arthur agreed. "But I can't help but wonder if he might be particularly on edge lately because of his own…history of bad press regarding Azkaban. What his son did to Frank and Alice Longbottom was atrocious, but someone else should have sent the boy to Azkaban."

"And that's the problem we're all having," Kingsley replied. "We're constantly trying to shift responsibility and blame, not just in looking for and struggling to find Black, but in everything."