*~* Chapter Two: The Trial and Sentencing of Sirius Black *~*
5,000 miles, six time zones, two countries, and one ocean away from where KayKay slept with dreams of brighter days, the boy named Harry Potter was busy in anticipation of the current day. By the end of the day, he would know the fate of his godfather, Sirius Black, who was finally getting the trial he had been denied fifteen years prior, when he had first been blamed for the betrayal of Harry's parents and the killing of thirteen bystanders.
Harry was looking out his window at the over cast sky, but he wasn't seeing the gray clouds that obscured the sun. Inside, he was a nervous wreck, as he had been ever since the trial date had been set, but today was worse than ever. His mind was ablaze with worries. Everything rested on the outcome of this trial . . . not only Harry's future, but also Sirius' very soul.
"Boy!" an angry voice shouted up the stairs. "I want you down here right now!"
Harry sighed and pushed his chair back from the table he was seated at, rising and descending the stairs. The sun wasn't very far up in the sky . . . .so surely the trial verdict couldn't have been passed yet. That being the case, Harry suspected that he was wanted to do some menial chore.
Which was not why his Uncle Vernon wished to see him, as he soon discovered upon seeing the glower on his uncle's face and the item he was holding in his hand.
"Would you care to tell me," Vernon asked Harry, "what this is?"
It was an unopened letter. On the front of the envelope was neatly printed:
Harry Potter
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey, England
It looked like a normal letter in every aspect but the fact that it had a United States postmark and stamp. Harry knew immediately who it was from, and also knew immediately what his uncle was going to do.
"Well?" Uncle Vernon asked testily, shaking the letter in Harry's face.
"It's a letter." Harry answered, then, knowing this wouldn't be reply enough to satisfy his uncle, he continued, "From America. For me."
"And who in America would be writing to you? And how would they have come by this address?"
"I don't know, sir," Harry answered half-truthfully. He didn't know how KayKay had come by his address . . . probably Hermione . . . but he did know that it was from her. Who else would have been writing to him?
"Well, let's find out, shall we?" he asked with malice, tearing it open. Dudley, who was standing behind his father, now listened with renewed interest. Vernon pulled the letter out, unfolded it, and scanned the first part quickly, a smirk crossing his face, before he cleared his throat and began to read it aloud.
"'Dear Harry,'" he sneered.
"'I question if I should even be writing to you. I know it would be easiest if we simply forgot about each other . . . for both of our sakes. But I can't think of not staying in contact with you, and either way, I have the feeling there are some things that need to be said after our not-so-good parting.
"'I wish to tell you that it broke my heart to say what I said to you . . . certainly I didn't want things to turn out as they did. But . . . oh, I don't know how to say what I want to say! I suppose I just want this to be as easy for you as possible . . . and as I have found so far, clinging to the past hurts more than letting go . . .'"
Vernon stopped his mocking reading there, lowering the paper.
"Do you have an idea who this is from now?" he asked.
"It's from my friend," Harry answered stiffly, reaching out in an attempt to grab the letter. His uncle jerked out of the way.
"By the sounds of it, it's from more than just a 'friend'" he said gruffly.
"Yeah, sounds like a girl friend." Dudley said annoyingly from behind his father. "Who would want to be your girlfriend?"
"What do you care?" Harry asked in reply, trying again to take the letter. "It doesn't matter!"
"Oh, it most certainly does, boy." Vernon said menacingly, pointing a shaking finger directly in Harry's face, "I will not have you messing around with girls and disgracing us even further! Now, you write to this . . . this girl . . . and you tell her that your little charade is over . . . or I shall write her myself!"
"We don't have a charade!" Harry said, his anger mounting. "Now give me my letter!"
"You had better watch your tone, boy," the large man replied lowly, "or else you may find yourself like you were a few years ago."
He shoved the letter at Harry, ordering him to go to his room. Harry didn't need telling twice, dashing upstairs and flopping on to his bed to read the letter for himself. He skipped the first part and read further along.
I'm sorry, I'm not even making sense! What I want to say is that . . . –here KayKay had scribbled something out— Oh, I don't know! I just wish I could make sense of my own thoughts! The only clearest thoughts I have lately are of you, and if they are as jumbled as these . . . then you can only imagine what the rest are like.
Harry actually got the feeling that KayKay knew what she was trying to say, but couldn't bring herself to say it. He knew, because even her scribbled, random thoughts mirrored his own. He knew that forgetting her was best . . . but he couldn't bring himself to do it. She was the kind of person you couldn't forget. If nothing else, she'd be remembered as his first love . . . but probably by much else besides. By her laughter that sounded like crystal bells, by her smile that made him feel that he was appreciated as a person, not a famous name, by her naturally kind nature that seemed to make everyone feel comfortable.
As Harry continued with the letter, he made a simple, and obvious choice . . . he wasn't going to send the letter his uncle had ordered him to write. He couldn't, and he wouldn't.
In his mind, that firmly settled the matter.
* * * * *
Harry unfolded and refolded the letter in his hands. It wasn't the same letter as he had received earlier that day . . . this one arrived by owl post a few days prior. Harry opened it again and read it, even though he'd read it so many times already that he knew it by heart.
Dear Harry,
Sirius' trial is set for July fifth at nine o'clock. It should be finished near three. Shortly after, either myself or the both of us, depending on the circumstances, shall be to your home to report the outcome.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
It was short, but very nerve-wracking. Harry looked at his clock impatiently. It was five o'clock already!
"Where are they?" Harry muttered under his breath, pacing his room. Almost immediately, as if to answer his question, Aunt Petunia's shrill scream was heard from downstairs. Harry looked immediately to his door and crossed the room in a few quick strides, throwing it open and hurrying into the hall.
Only a few things made Harry's Aunt scream, with magic or magical sorts being the top among them. So, unless there was an alien spaceship landing in the backyard, a legion of mice scurrying across the floor, or a wild murderer in the living room, it was Dumbledore that had frightened her.
It seemed like the latter of these was the case, as Harry rushed down the stairs breathlessly to see the ancient headmaster trying to calm Petunia. And behind him stood . . .
"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed, running to his Godfather who immediately pulled him into a fatherly embrace.
"Ah, Harry. There you are." Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eyes. "We were just looking for you."
"You are, aren't you?" Harry asked, practically jumping up and down. "You are, you must be!"
Sirius, wearing a smile as wide as Christmas simply replied, "Harry, get your things." He looked at Dumbledore, then back to Harry.
"We're going home."
* * * * *
"Wow," Harry said softly, "I didn't even know this part existed."
Harry and Sirius were at Gringott's, and Sirius had just showed Harry a smaller cell accessible from his main vault.
"Yes," Sirius commented leisurely, but wearing an amused grin all the same. "Despite Gringott's great reputation, your parents felt it wise to hide their heirlooms and such here in the hidden vault."
Harry still looked around at the items contained in the secret area, some looking centuries old. There were necklaces and other jewelry that could almost be mistaken for some belonging to an ancient queen . . . Also faded documents, foreboding novels, old-style weapons such as a few elegant swords in ornate scabbards, awards for service to the magical community and, so tightly tucked into the shadowed corner that Harry almost missed it, a small wooden box. It had a very simple appearance, it's fanciest adornment being the clasp holding it closed, which was very common in and of itself. It seemed so out of place in this historical treasury, that at first Harry questioned it's significance. However curiosity, as it always does, got the better of Harry and, dusting off the lid, he opened it.
The first thing Harry saw was a Victorian-style skeleton key. The handle was very intricate, and in Old-English lettering was inscribed, "G.H."
"Ah, you found it!" Sirius said proudly, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder and looking at the brass key.
"Why, what is it I found?" Harry asked, pulling his gaze from the object in his hand to look at his new guardian.
"Why, the key to your old home, of course!" Sirius said, gently taking the key and holding it up at eye level. "See those letters? That stands for 'Godric's Hollow', the home your parents lived in when they were newly married and you were just a baby. I was thinking that, seeing how it is your old home, you would like to live there. When you graduate and want a home of your own, I can move out, and you can begin your own life there . . ." Sirius stopped when he looked down at Harry, mistaking his happy silence as uncomfortable disagreement. "Unless, of course, you'd rather that we just had a whole different home . . ."
"No" Harry answered, shaking his head with a smile, looking again at his Godfather. "No, I'd like it this way."
Sirius's face broke into a broad grin at this, and he squeezed Harry's shoulder as the boy looked back into the box.
Harry's eyes rested on an emerald-green, velvet bag. It was small, and tied shut with a drawstring. He fumbled with it a bit before he was able to pull out the ring inside.
The ring was beautiful, with three diamonds and an engraved gold band that was thicker than most. It was obviously an heirloom, but it didn't have the appearance of something horribly old. Instead, it had elegance, and Harry could just picture it on his mother's finger.
"That was Lily's" Sirius said to Harry, almost as if hearing the thoughts in his mind, "Her engagement ring, if I recall correctly. It's very nice, isn't it? From what I gathered from James, it's been in the Potter family for years . . . oh, look at what time it is!" Sirius said suddenly, as if noticing his watch for the first time. "We should hurry, unless we want to keep Remus waiting . . ."
* * * * *
"Extra, extra, read all about it! Convicted murderer pardoned and reunited with godson!" a man said, shoving the Daily Prophet right in front of Sirius's head as he and Harry entered the Leaky Cauldron.
"Moony, get that out of my face," Sirius laughed, hitting it down and smiling at his friend. "How did they even get the paper out so quickly? The trial only ended two hours ago . . ."
"And you didn't expect it to be all over the wizard community? Trust me, two hours is ample time to spread the word." Remus replied, stowing the paper under his arm as he continued walking with Sirius and Harry towards the floo station.
"Moony, have you done the necessary . . . preparations?" Sirius asked as the three stepped up to the purchase line, ignoring the Floo officer who was gaping at him.
"Yes I have, Padfoot," Remus replied, paying the man enough for the small group to travel, "And I've made arrangements. Only us three and Dumbledore will be able to floo there."
"Excellent." Sirius said with a smile. He looked at Harry and said, "I set Remus to work long before my trial. I knew that even if I wasn't freed, you would be able to move in once you graduated . . . ah, thank you."
Sirius accepted to clay pot offered to him and took a handful of the floo powder, tossing it onto the flames, making them burst to green.
"After you, Harry," he said, indicating to the fireplace. Tentatively, Harry stepped into the flames.
"Godric's Hollow!" he called, remembering the name Sirius had mentioned in Gringott's. He heard Sirius and Remus follow close behind.
He was almost home.
* * * * *
Harry fell asleep quickly that night. There hadn't been too much to do, since Remus took care of some of it for them . . . getting rid of the thick layer of dust coating everything, the broken tables, the empty bedrooms . . . however, Harry and Sirius were still busy until late, rearranging furniture, painting the chipped and faded walls, getting some essentials . . . bed sheets, food, plates and silverware . . . and Harry was exhausted.
He fell asleep dreaming of his new home. There was a simple, cobblestone path leading from the street to the door, which had an elegant doorknocker that looked like a lion's head. When one entered the home, they'd see to their immediate left a cozy living room, with a fireplace, bookshelf, old piano, and comfortable armchairs. Like every other room in the house, it had a wooden floor, so there was also a large, soft rug spread out in the open area.
To the right of the doorway was a library, filled with hundreds of books, and not just the boring, educational type. There was any type of book somebody could have wanted in that room, and Harry knew that if Hermione came over, he'd have to put a lock on the door to keep her from curling up in one of the chairs and reading as many as she could.
Harry only realized after seeing the large expanse of the library that this house was much like the tents at the Quidditch World Cup and was far bigger inside than it was outside.
Further down the hall was a long flight of winding stairs going up to the top level, which included three bedrooms, two which were connected by a small bathroom, and a third with a master bathroom on the side. The top level also included a linen closet and a trapdoor on the ceiling. When the trapdoor was opened a ladder slid down, not very unlike the Divination Classroom. This ladder, however, didn't lead to a stuffy room that reeked of incense. Instead, there was a narrow, winding staircase, and another small room at the top of a tower not visible from outside. It seemed like the kind of room that a fabled princess would be found in, sitting at the window seat or the wooden desk and looking out the tower window, or reading a book off of the wooden shelf next to the canopy bed.
Downstairs again, at the end of the hall, was a kitchen. It was the classic, country-kitchen, with polished wooden countertops and a porcelain sink that faced a window draped with sheer curtains. Over the sink was a wooden pole with hooks to hang pots and pans from.
In the center of the rustic kitchen was a combination island and stove. On the opposite side of the large island were stools, creating a simple dining area, or one could go into the adjacent room with the simple chandelier and eat dinner in the dining room.
What was even better was an enclosed pool right off of the back porch. According to Sirius, it had magical settings besides its normal state. Those settings included taps that controlled bubbles like those in the Prefect's bathroom. Harry decided that he needed to learn how to swim properly.
This was the last thought on his mind before he drifted into sleep. He hadn't completed his mental tour. There was also a very large backyard that included a small Quidditch practice area. Definitely his father's doing, Harry had decided. Beyond that was a forest that Harry hadn't had a chance to explore, but from the outside it looked warm and inviting, very unlike the Forbidden Forest.
And although it was an early one, Harry couldn't think of a better birthday present.
