In a dark alleyway, eight figures touched down, sitting atop (to the muggle eye), invisible horses. One had a cage clutched in his left hand.

Moving towards a red telephone booth, three of the eight figures disappeared beneath silky silver cloaks. The figure with the tall hat opened the sliding door, and then it closed, seemingly by itself. A minute later, the booth started its decent underground.

Shivering in the morning chill, the remaining four waited for the return of the booth. Although it had to travel several stories below ground, it seemed to pop right back up.

The cramped conditions were only made more apparent as someone was elbowed in the attempt to reach the telephone and dial.

"6-2-4-4-2," a voice muttered to himself as he dialed.

A cool female voice emitted from the receiver. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Remus Lupin, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger. We are here for the trial that is to take place in courtroom ten at nine-o'clock."

"Thank you. Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

Four square sliver badges shot out of the coin return slot. Hermione scooped them up and handed them out. "Remus?" she asked warily as she gave the werewolf his badge.

"No need to worry," he said, pinning on the badge. "Werewolves' badges are made of chrome, not sliver."

Harry looked down at his, which read:

Harry Potter
Hearing

Court room 10

"Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

At the end of the automated speech, the floor of the booth dropped and the pavement seemed to rise all around them. The booth ground against it and squeaked as they made their way down into the Ministry.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day." Then the doors sprang open and the four of them walked out into an empty hall that reminded Harry far too much of the last time he had been there.

Walking towards the security desk, Harry saw that Dumbledore was carrying on a light conversation with the guard. His parents and Sirius were nowhere to be seen, but Remus had caught their scent.

"Over by the fountain," he whispered into Harry's ear as they walked.

Harry cast a quick glance at the circular pool. Replacing the figures that he remembered defending him from Voldemort, a simple stream of water bubbled merrily down a great pile of rocks from its starting point, ten feet up in the air. The rocks hung in midair with nothing to support them but a permanent Levitation Charm.

"—without you." The guard paused and looked upon the foursome. "I take it you're here for the trial then?" he grunted gruffly, not liking being pulled away from Dumbledore.

Remus smiled politely and nodded. "Yes."

With a grunt the wizard passed the golden rod over Remus front and back. When this was done, a slip of parchment shot out of the end of it. The wizard frowned at it. "I'll need your—"

Remus fished a card from his robe-pocket and handed it to the guard.

"I hate doing this," he said regretfully, copying a number off the card. It was the first time Harry had heard any emotion in the security wizard's voice.

"You have to do what you have to do, Eric," Remus said, taking the card and handing over his wand. The slip of paper disappeared with a faint 'pop' when Eric was done with it.

"Still don't like it," he muttered. "Twelve inches, unicorn-hair core, been in use for twenty-three years?"

"Yes."

"Getting up there, isn't it?" he said, sticking the parchment on a spike and handing Remus back his wand.

Remus smiled. "Still works like a charm, though."

Eric repeated the procedure on Harry, Ron, and Hermione while Remus and Dumbledore talked about the regulations of something.

"Have a good day," Eric said as they turned to walk towards the elevators.

"What was that card?" Ron asked as they walked.

"My werewolf identification card," Remus said tightly.

"Oh," Ron said, sounding a bit uncomfortable.

They boarded the elevator, Dumbledore taking a long time to make the final steps towards them to give the invisible group time to jump on.

"Eric was in Ravenclaw?" an invisible voice asked.

"Hufflepuff," another voice argued.

"No, it was Ravenclaw," the first voice persisted.

"Hufflepuff."

"Ravenclaw!"

"It was Hufflepuff," Remus broke in, hoping to stop the bickering.

"See!" the second voice said triumphantly. "Moony agrees with me."

"Humph, Moony always agrees with you," the first voice complained.

"Only when he's right," Remus said patiently.

"Don't be such a sore loser Padfoot," the second voice—James'—advised.

"Oh, and who's the one who would sulk in a corner of the common room when we lost a Quidditch match?" Sirius asked.

"That's different," James argued.

"How so?" Sirius asked.

A female voice sighed exasperatedly, then the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed off the walls, twice.

"Lilyyyy," two equally pitiful voices whined.

"Oh, grow up," Lily said playfully. Smiling at disgruntled noises that came from the back of the elevator.

A bell tinkled and the doors opened. "The Minister's office," a cool voice announced.

Stepping out to the elevator and into a rather large room, Harry was reminded of a doctor's office. There were couches and chairs scattered around the room, and small end tables littered with old editions of Witch Weekly, Quidditch Monthly, and The Daily Prophet.

At the far end of the room, opposite the elevator, were huge oak doors, sporting brass handles in the shape of…

"Bowler hats?" Ron whispered incredulously to Harry, unsure if he should be amused or horrified.

Hermione was already in a fit of giggles and it sounded as though the Marauders were not far behind.

Dumbledore peered at them over his half-moon spectacles in amusement as he walked up to the doorknocker, which was badger-shaped, and knocked. The smooth, cool voice that seemed to follow one all around the Ministry spoke again. "The Minister is busy at the moment. Please state your name and business."

"Albus Dumbledore and party, to see the Minister about the trial I arranged for today at nine o'clock."

"One moment please," the voice replied.

"The security in this place has gone downhill," an invisible James said.

"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "When we were in charge, if you walked in here with a invisibility cloak on you got showered in neon pink paint."

Harry looked at the place he heard their voices coming from. "What do you mean, 'when you were in charge'?"

"We were—or should I say are?" James asked, puzzled.

"Being dead and then brought back to life does put a damper on your usage of correct grammar," Sirius observed. A Quidditch Monthly floated into the air, seemingly by itself.

"Not that you ever did master proper grammar, Padfoot," Remus remarked lightly from a chair in the corner.

"Oh, very funny Moony," Sirius grumbled.

"Like I was saying, me and Sirius—"

"As I was saying, Sirius and I." Remus corrected.

James continued as though he hadn't heard, "—were in charge of Ministry Safety—"

"For an entire week," Lily interjected, trying to hide her giggles with minimal success.

"It wasn't our fault that they didn't like the way we kept the place safe! Come on, if you see a pink blob wandering the halls, are you or are you not going to figure that something's wrong?" James asked.

"Well, at the end of the week we did kind of slack off," Sirius admitted. "But what was so bad about having random people burst out in feathers?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione had dissolved into giggles and were in no state to answer.

"I do remember that," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "And I recall that the only reason this happened was because you were bored."

"Yeah, personally I wasn't too trilled with the idea," Sirius said flippantly, as though he'd had nothing to do with the whole business. "But Prongs here—"

"Oh, come on. We didn't have a case; a week off sounded like fun. And we had the perfect excuse to feather, paint, shrink, enlarge, or a combination of the four, anyone we wanted to, along with the perfect excuse—'Oh, sorry, must be a glitch in the spell.' It was a Marauder's dream, Padfoot," James said defensively.

"We never needed to have a 'perfect excuse'," Sirius reminded him. "We had Moony. With an innocent look like his, who would suspect us of anything?"

"Padfoot, if you would kindly remember that the Headmaster, who also happens to be the one in charge of my paycheck, is in the room at the moment," Remus said idly.

Dumbledore chuckled.

"The Minister is ready to see you now," the cool voice interrupted them. A moment later, the doors swung open.

Dumbledore led the way into a navy blue office with crown molding. At the far end of the large room was a desk large enough to rival Dumbldore's. Parchment was scattered in piles over it, giving the appearance that the minister was hard at work

It would have worked quite nicely if Fudge had bothered to wipe the sleep from his eyes, and comb his hair to get rid of the 'just-rolled-out-of-bed' appearance.

"Have a nice nap, Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked politely, hiding a smile behind his long white beard.

"I did," the minister said around a yawn. "Now, what do you want, Albus? Whatever you reserved courtroom ten for had better be worth it."

"Oh, I feel it will be well worth your time, and the Wizengamot's," Dumbledore said, seating himself in one of the two armchairs that stood before the desk.

"Well, let's hear it… " Fudge trailed off as he saw Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Remus standing behind the headmaster. "What is the meaning of this?"

"'This', as you put it, is part of the reason why I have asked for a trial," Dumbledore explained calmly.

A wicked smile spread over Fudge's face. "So, you want to put the children on trial for last year?" He rose from his chair. "Excellent, let me just get into my other robes and—"

"I do not want to put them on trial. To my knowledge, they have done nothing wrong," Dumbledore said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Fudge looked rather like a punctured balloon as he took his seat again; all the air had gone out of him.

"The reason I am here is—" He broke off and nodded, and James, Sirius and Lily removed their cloaks.

Thud. Fudge, the sight too much for his tiny mind to comprehend, had keeled over in a dead faint.

"Well, I can't say I didn't expect that," Sirius remarked lightly. "He's going to have an awful bump on his head when he comes around."

"He's quite pathetic really," James interjected. "What kind of coward faints after seeing two dead people and one convict?"

"Our Minister, who is leading all of wizarding Britain. Makes you feel extremely safe, don't it?" Sirius said, deadpan.

"Doesn't it," Remus and Hermione corrected simultaneously.

Everyone turned to the two part-wolves to see Hermione blushing and Remus attempting to suppress laughter. "That does it!" Sirius exclaimed. "Hermione, I now pronounce your auxiliary Marauder nickname to be Moony Jr."

"What? What's going on?" a dazed voice asked. Fudge slowly lifted his head from the desk.

"You seemed to lose us for a moment, Cornelius."

Fudge's eyes landed on Sirius, and he sat bolt upright, galvanized into action. "Dumbledore! It's Sirius Black! Get the Dementors!" As he spoke, one hand was frantically pushing a red button on the desk while the other reached into his robes for his wand.

In less then fifteen seconds, the door burst open and two Aurors came racing in. "What is it, sir?" Tonks asked, looking around frantically, and (in a characteristic show of clumsiness) almost tripping over a chair before the other Auror caught her elbow.

"You called, Minister?" Kingsley asked in his deep voice.

"Are you blind?" Fudge almost shrieked. "Sirius Black is standing right in front of you! Do something!"

Harry never knew how Kingsley managed it with a straight face, but he walked up to Sirius, shook his hand, and solemnly said, "It's a pleasure to meet you at last."

Ron thought Fudge was going to explode, judging by the shade of red he was turning.

"But—but—but—" he sputtered. The apparent desertion of his Aurors was evidently too much for the minister to take.

"Fudge, I think you are perfectly safe," Dumbledore said soothingly. "Mr. Black has promised not to harm you, or, for that matter, anyone else in this establishment."

The soothing tone was utterly lost on Fudge. This time, he did shriek. "The word of a convicted murderer means something to you?"

"Conviction and guilt are entirely different matters, Cornelius," Dumbledore said firmly. "Compose yourself."

Meekly, Fudge obeyed.

Kingsley conjured more chairs so they could all sit. Tonks plunked herself down with the trio. The Metamorphmagus' hair was blond with blue streaks today and fell to her waist.

"Now, before the trial takes place—" Dumbledore began.

"Wait, who's this trial for? Not him," Fudge said disgustedly, glancing at Sirius, who had his arms crossed over his chest and was giving the minister his best imitation of Snape's 'you'd-best-do-as-you're-told-or-I'll-make-your-life-hell" glare.

"Yes, the trial is for Mr. Black," Dumbledore said patiently.

"But it's an open and shut case! We have many who were witnesses to what he did! What's the use of a trial?" Fudge asked, beginning to attempt to regain his pompous air (not to mention his dignity).

James stood, hazel eyes flashing, and bent over the desk so he was only inches from Fudge's face. "That man never got a trial," he said, his voice thick with scarcely-contained rage. "You blatantly violated due process and let him rot in prison for over a decade." He paused, then dropped an ultimatum. "What would the public think if the Prophet got wind of that?

Fudge paled. "You wouldn't—you couldn't—" he stammered.

"Oh, I would," James said ominously, a look on his face the other Marauders recognized as dangerous, "and I could. How many reporters do you really think would refuse to interview us?" he asked, indicating himself, Lily, and Sirius. "I could tell them anything and they would eat it up." James lowered his voice and spoke in a low, threatening tone. "I could ruin your entire political career in the time it takes to print the morning paper."

Fudge was shaking and had broken out in a cold sweat. His eyes darted from person to person, looking for someone to support him. Finding no one willing to do so, he relented. "All right, what do I have to do?" he asked, surrendering to the inevitable.

Lily came forward with four scrolls. Fudge opened his desk drawer to find a suitable quill and bottle of ink in preparation to sign them.

"This one," Lily said, opening the topmost scroll on the pile, "will return custody of Harry to James and myself."

Fudge wordlessly scrawled his signature, looking like a man about to be led to execution.

"This one affirms that James and I are alive and confirms our identities. Next, this one returns us to our former posts at work. Lastly, this one declares a public trial for Sirius today, at nine o'clock." As the minister was signing the indicated scroll, Lily tucked the last one into her pocket.

"I might as well sign that one too, while we're here," Fudge uttered in a dazed tone.

"No," Lily said cheerfully, "it isn't necessary for you to sign it unless the need arises."

Fudge nodded. The fight seemed to have gone out of him…for the moment. "I'll get Percy in here," he said, pressing a green button.

In less time then it took Kingsley and Tonks to arrive, Percy strode into the office. "You called, s—" He stopped in mid-sentence at the sight before him. "Minister, what is the—"

"Never mind that!" Fudge snapped, regaining his pompous air now that he had someone to order around. "I need these documents copied and sent off to the Daily Prophet; I want an edition of it in every wizarding household within the hour."

"Yes, sir," Percy said obediently, and marched back out of the office, scrolls in hand. He had carefully avoided eye-contact with everyone in the room save the minister.

"Will that suffice?" Fudge asked the group, a bit testily. He looked quite put out at having been made to give in.

"You don't have to be so rude about it," Sirius said airily. "But yes, I suppose it will have to do."

All around the world, papers were 'popping' into wizarding homes by means of an Apparation Charm. With a quick glance at the front page (and a few Enervates), many put on traveling cloaks and Apparated to the Ministry, not wanting to miss the trial that was to take place within the hour.

Harry and the others found themselves seated of to the right side of the courtroom, about fifteen feet from the chain-adorned chair. As he had at Harry's hearing last year, Fudge sat at the bench along with the other members of the Wizengamot, all wearing regal-looking plum robes, and murmuring excitedly to one another. The chairs occupied by Harry and those with him were in a box-like structure; gleaming gold lettering engraved on the front proclaimed that all persons sitting in that area were on the side of the defense.

The Potters were receiving shocked looks; many expected them to be on the other side of the courtroom, with Wormtail's mother and many of the witnesses who arrived on the scene after Peter escaped. Harry was sitting between his parents; Remus was seated next to James; Hermione sat next to Lily and Ron finished off the first row. Behind them was Dumbledore, also clothed in plum robes, but distinguished from the other members of the court, for the silver W on the left side of the chest had an added H to proclaim him the head of the Wizengamot.

As if a bell had tolled, everyone grew quiet, shifting position so they had a clear view of the chair and Fudge. Everyone shivered at once as the room became colder; the torches along the walls flickered, and some were extinguished altogether. The doors opened and Sirius stepped through them, accompanied by a Dementor on either side. Sirius held his head high, but the look of anguish in his blue eyes showed the inner pain he endured as his worst memories surfaced.

When he reached the chair, Sirius took a deep breath and sat gingerly on it. The chains sprang to life and strapped down his arms. Hermione made a noise of utter disgust, which Sirius apparently heard, for he turned to give the girl a reassuring smile.

The Dementors turned and glided silently out of the room, the flames re-ignited and general warmth was returned to the courtroom.

"Ahem," Fudge cleared his throat. "Trial of December the twenty-eighth, Sirius Orion Black and Peter Brian Pettigrew."

At this, a sniffle was heard, and Mrs. Pettigrew hastily dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

The scratching of a quill could be heard as a red head in horn-rimmed glasses sitting at the end of the long bench made rapid notes on a long scroll of parchment. Ron was shooting death glares at his older brother, who had to feel them burning into the side of his head, but Percy never once glanced over at them.

"Interrogator: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minster of Magic."

Sirius interrupted Fudge. "Wait a minute!"

Fudge looked up from his scroll with an expression of disbelief. "The defendant is not permitted to speak unless spoken to," he replied, returning to his scroll. "Counselor for the plaintiff, Mr.-"

"No!" Sirius interjected defiantly.

James and Remus were snickering quietly to themselves, knowing that Fudge wouldn't be able to get two words in unless Sirius was first allowed to speak.

"No?" Fudge asked incredulously. "I believe I wield the greater authority in this court-"

"But you can't precede over this trial!" Sirius protested.

"And just why not?" Fudge asked in tones of righteous indignation, forgetting in his anger that the defendant was to maintain silence unless addressed directly.

"You were one of the first to arrive on the scene after Pettigrew disappeared!" Sirius said heatedly. You've already, in your idiotic closed-mindedness, decided to pronounce me guilty!"

Fudge was getting rather flustered—and so made a fatal slip of the tongue. "That may be the case," he blustered pompously, puffing out his chest, "but as Minster of Magic-"

Sirius attempted to throw his hands up in aggravation, but the chains clanged angrily and forced his arms back down.

Dumbledore stood up, and all eyes turned towards him. "If I may, Cornelius," he began amiably, his eyes twinkling enigmatically over his ever-present half-moon spectacles, "Sirius raises a valid point. You were one of the first at the scene, and you are biased regarding the matter of Mr. Black's innocence. You made that quite clear several years ago over dinner." Dumbledore had made his way out of the box and was settling himself in a red armchair to the right of Sirius, who was fuming silently and glaring daggers at the Minister.

Fudge seemed at a loss for words.

"I propose you remove your memories of that day before this trial continues," Dumbledore went on.

"What do you mean, 'remove my memories'?" Fudge asked, brow furrowed and tone anxious. "I will get them back, right?"

Dumbledore steeped his fingers and gave a slow smile, his manner reminiscent of one with a distinct advantage. "Oh, they will be returned to you—immediately prior to your testimony."

"Me? Testify?" Fudge sputtered. That looked to be the last thing he had expected to occur.

"Naturally," Dumbledore said placidly. "You were a witness, after all."

Fudge glared down at the aged wizard, who gazed levelly back at him.

"Oh, all right." Reluctantly, Fudge gave in, seeing there was no way to outwit the headmaster.

Fudge moved to draw his wand from the pocket of his robes, but Dumbledore interrupted, "Oh no, allow me, Minster."

Dumbledore retrieved his wand from the folds of his plum robes, swiftly jabbing it at the Minister's head, then slowly pulling back, as though fishing and trying to reel in his catch. A glazed look came over Fudge's face as the memories were extracted.

Suddenly, a beam of silver light flew from the Minster's temple and into a clear glass jar beside Dumbledore. Capping it deftly, the headmaster lowered his wand, breaking the connection.

Fudge blinked rapidly, shaking his head as though to clear water from his ears. "Did it work?" he asked stupidly.

Harry and Ron's shoulders were shaking with silent laughter at the Minister's idiocy. Hermione shot them stern looks, unable to do anything else just then, for Lily was between her and Harry, and Ron was seated at the very end of the row.

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling; he looked satisfied with the results of his spell. "What do you remember regarding the events that transpired on November 1, 1981?"

Fudge raced through his memory, finding a blank space at the said date. Going further on, a blank was found at any time Fudge had conversed with anyone about his viewpoint on Sirius's guilt. "It worked! Fudge exclaimed, with the all the excitement of small child receiving a chocolate frog with a card that they had been wanting for ages.

Dumbledore nodded slowly, and a soft smile played across his face.

"Now, may we proceed?" The Minster had returned to his former pompous attitude. Considering the rather childish display he had just made, however, he only succeeded in appearing all the more completely dense.

Sirius shrugged and said offhandedly, "You're the judge, unfortunately", he added with an inward sigh.

Fudge glared down at the longhaired prisoner, who looked rather bored with the whole affair. "Humph. As I was saying—counsel for the plaintiff, Ryan Alan Shiflett."

A pleasant looking middle-aged man clad in black robes stood up and nodded to the Minster, the Wizengamot, and finally Dumbledore, earning a look of disapproval from Fudge.

Dumbledore winked at his former student.

"Counsel for the defendant, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." Dumbledore did not get up, merely nodding to the public assembled in the balcony, and then to the prosecution.

"Court scribe, Percy Ingnatius Weasley." Mrs. Weasley's soft sob at this echoed in the high-ceilinged room. Percy's quill jerked at the sound, but he continued to write as though he had not heard her.

"Dumbledore," Fudge said resignedly. "According to protocol, you have the right to go first."

Dumbledore nodded. "I would like to call James Godric Potter as my first witness."

Fudge nodded his approval—even if he disapproved, arguing would do nothing for him but make him look all the more stupid, and even he could deduce that doing so wouldn't be an intelligent move.

James excused himself from the box and strode confidently to the chair that appeared to Sirius's left.

"Cheer up mate," James muttered under his breath as he seated himself and an appointed member of the Wizengamot brought forth Veritaserum.

Sirius snorted. "Easy for you to say, Prongs; you're not the one on trial."

Before James could reply, a cheery voice said, "Open up," and a Wizengamot member held a dropper full of the clear serum inches from James's mouth.

James raised a skeptical eyebrow at the young Ministry worker and turned to Dumbledore to seek his approval.

The headmaster sighed and nodded.

James opened his mouth, and the required three drops fell onto his tongue. "Odd tasting stuff, this is," James said as the Veritaserum took effect, slurring his last words a bit. His eyes glazed over, and his expression grew vacant.

Dumbledore stood and took his place in front of James. "Can you hear me?" he asked clearly.

"Yes," James said in the flat, expressionless voice that was the result of the truth potion.

"Can you tell the court your name?"

"Yes."

Sirius snorted in an attempt to stifle his laughter. The courtroom tittered with chuckles.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he hid a smile beneath his long white beard. "What is your name—your full name?" he added, no doubt having been reminded by James' last response to avoid general questions.

"James Godric Potter."

"James," Dumbledore asked, all levity leaving his manner, "what transpired on the night of October thirty-first, 1981?"

"I had just cleaned Harry up from dinner and had taken him up to Lily to get him ready for bed. Then, upon returning downstairs, a knock was heard at the back door, which was then blasted off its hinges. I ran towards the stairs and shouted up to Lily to take Harry and run while I tried to hold him off."

"Who is 'him'?" Dumbledore asked.

"Voldemort."

The headmaster nodded, seeming not to notice the collective wince at the feared Dark Lord's name. "Continue, please."

"Voldemort and I dueled for a minute or so before I heard him speak the Killing Curse, then there was a bright flash of green light."

"Is that all you can recall?"

"Yes."

"Did you have a Secret Keeper at this point?"

"Yes," James repeated.

"Who was it?"

"Peter Pettigrew."

At the unexpected response, the courtroom came suddenly alive with whispers; those assembled shifted in their seats to stare curiously at Sirius, who, true to form, flashed a winning smile.

"Silence!" Fudge bellowed, shooting off a loud bang from the end of his wand.

The courtroom quieted down again, and Dumbledore continued.

"What about Sirius Black? Was he not your Secret Keeper?"

"Originally, he was. But at the last moment, Sirius convinced us to change to Peter, saying that no one would believe that we would use a weak, cowardly, inept wizard like Peter as our Secret Keeper."

"And what led you to agree with him?"

"Sirius is like a brother to me; I would trust his judgment any day."

Sirius softly smiled down at his hands.

"Did you ever have any idea that Peter would betray you?"

"No." Had the Veritaserum not deadened his emotions, James would have scowled. "Apparently Pettigrew was cleverer than any of us gave him credit for."

"Did you suspect that he could have been a Death Eater?"

Mrs. Pettigrew's sobs intensified, growing louder.

"No. He hid his allegiance to Voldemort too well for any of us to guess. He manipulated us into suspecting each other to turn suspicion away from himself."

Dumbledore nodded, his expression somber. "No further questions, Minister." He took his seat.

"Mr. Shiflett, do you wish to cross-examine the witness?" Fudge asked.

"Not at this time, Minster." Shiftlett wasn't an unintelligent man; he knew that any additional testimony from James would only further incriminate his own client.

The young man who had given James the Veritaserum came forward and administered the blue counter-serum.

James shook his head a bit to clear the fuzziness, winked at Sirius, and returned to his seat in the box.

"The plaintiff would like to call Lee Morgan Jemsion," Shiftlett said coolly.

A nervous-looking man walked out of the plaintiff's box and sat down gingerly next to Sirius.

Sirius turned from where he was talking to Dumbledore to look at Jemison. "I don't bite, you know," he said mildly, raising an eyebrow.

A shaky nod from the man was all the response Sirius received before the Veritaserum was administered.

"What is your full name?" Shiflett began.

"Lee Morgan Jemison."

"And how is your testimony relevant to this case?"

"I was one of the first on the scene when Black had Pettigrew cornered."

Shiflett nodded acknowledgement. "And what can you tell me about the events of November first?"

"I was called from my home to the scene. When I arrived, Peter and Black were facing off."

"About how far apart would you say they were?"

"A little more than nine meters," Jemison said in a monotone.

"What about their wands—were they raised, or lowered?"

"Black's was aimed at Peter's chest; Pettigrew's was by his side."

Shiflett nodded; the questioning seemed to be proceeding as he had planned. "What happened next?"

"Black looked furious, and Peter had tears streaming down his face. Before Black could say anything, Pettigrew cried out, 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?' And then there was a tremendous explosion; bits of pavement flew every which way and dust covered everything within a hundred-foot radius. The muggles were terrified and screaming.

"By the time it all cleared, Black was covered in dust, laughing insanely and staring at the place where Peter had been and now only his finger remained."

"No further questions your honor."

"Albus, do you wish to cross examine the witness?" Fudge asked grudgingly.

"I do."

"Please proceed," Fudge sighed. He looked as though he simply wanted the whole affair over with.

Dumbledore got up and slowly walked over to the man. "You said there was an explosion and a great deal of dust. Could you tell us whose side of the street it originated from?"

Jemison started to say no; then he stopped. A look of bewilderment spread over the once-expressionless face. "It came from where Pettigrew was standing."

Shiflett looked up sharply from where he had been avidly poring over a scroll.

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, ignoring the assembly behind him as they quickly discussed what they had just heard. "Peter's wand," Dumbledore said slowly, "Was it hanging limply, or was it stiff, as though he was just about to cast a spell?"

Jemison had to search thousands of memories to find the one that Dumbledore asked for. "It was stiff," he said finally.

"And what of the finger that was found? Was there a great deal of blood around it, or only a small amount?"

"Not much," Jemison said pensively. "Very little."

"No further questions, Minister."

This went on for some time as Sharon Linda Creech, David Rick Tucker, Robert Adam Turner and Ann Barbara O'Brien were each cross-examined in turn by the two counselors.

Shiflett was growing steadily more verbose as the questioning continued.

"Dumbledore," Fudge asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Your next witness?"

Dumbledore smiled warmly. "That would be you, Cornelius."

Fudge nodded. "Please proc—" He broke off abruptly, processing what had just been said, and sputtered, "Me!"

"Yes, you," Dumbledore said, seemingly amused at the Minister's incomprehension.

Fudge looked as if he wanted to protest, but knew enough to realize that it would do him no good. Sighing, he rose from his chair in the center of the high bench and walked down the stone steps to the chair on Sirius' left.

Sirius did not turn to face him as he had all the other witnesses.

Dumbledore picked up the jar and unstopped it. A sliver beam of light shot from it and into Fudge's temple.

Once the light had disappeared, the Wizengamot member stood ready with his vial of Veritaserum.

"Do you really think this necessary Dumbledore?" Fudge asked, in a last, desperate attempt to free himself from the trap he was in. "I am the Minster of Magic; I think you should be able to trust my word without resorting to a truth potion," he declared pompously.

"Protocol, Cornelius," Dumbledore said firmly. The slight edge in his tone left no room for argument.

"But—" Fudge's words were cut short, as the dropper of Veritaserum was thrust into his mouth, administering the required dose.

The Minister's eyes glazed over, and the angry expression he wore melted away, leaving his face blank.

Dumbledore turned towards Shifflet, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "Do you wish to go first?"

Shifflet smiled and shook his head. It had finally occurred to him that there was no way that he was going to win the case, not up against Dumbledore and his witnesses' credible testimony. They ought to close the case now and exonerate Sirius, for all the good he could do his own client.

"Tell the court your full name."

"Cornelius Oswald Fudge." The Minister spoke in a monotone.

"In autumn of 1981, what was your position in the Ministry?" Dumbledore asked.

"I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes."

"What transpired on November first of that year?"

"I was called out to the site of a murder by the head of my department."

"Please elaborate."

"When I arrived, muggles where screaming; bodies where everywhere. There was a crater in the middle of the street, so deep that it reached the sewer. Black was standing there, laughing at what remained of Pettigrew. He'd clearly gone mad—I never heard a sane man laugh that way."

"What was left of Pettigrew?"

"A heap of blood-stained robes, and a severed finger."

"Was the finger atop the robes, or somewhere else?"

"On top."

"So the blood could have come from the finger, as opposed to the body?"

Fudge screwed up his face in thought, finally saying, "Yes."

Dumbledore nodded, satisfied with the answer. "What happened next?"

"Members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad led Black away to Azkaban. My department was left behind to help clean up the mess."

"Were you responsible for this undertaking?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever authenticate Mr. Black's magical signature, or Mr. Pettigrew's?"

"No." Though true, this was, apparently, the wrong answer to give.

"Why not?" Dumbledore snapped at him. This was a sensitive subject for him and it was clearly distressing the mage.

Fudge did not say anything for a moment. "Because," he began slowly, "there was no point; the evidence on the scene pointed to Black's guilt."

"Did you ever check his wand? Did you use Priori Incantantem?"

"No."

"So, you placed a man in Azkaban based on superficial evidence, never bothering to search for the truth?" Dumbledore asked angrily. His eyes were narrowed and cold as ice.

"Yes."

Dumbledore nodded sharply to Shifflet, giving him permission to take over, and giving himself a chance to regain his composure.

Sirius turned to the headmaster as he sat down. "Calm down," he whispered, not taking time to see the irony of his offering consolation to his mentor, the most powerful sorcerer in the world.

Dumbledore just popped a lemon drop that he had found in one of his many hidden pockets into his mouth. The candy seemed to soothe him somewhat.

In the short time that the exchange had taken place, Shifflet had finished his questioning, and the counter-serum had been administered.

As Fudge was making his way back to the bench, Dumbledore drew his wand and retrieved the Minister's memories (only those pertinent to the case, of course) once again, so skillfully subtle in the operation that Fudge did not notice.

"Your next witness?" Fudge inquired.

"Mr. Black," Dumbledore said calmly.

Sirius sighed. He had known this was coming, and obediently opened his mouth to accept the potion.

"What is your full name?" Dumbledore asked coolly, all traces of anger gone.

"Sirius Orion Black."

"Were you the Potters' Secret-Keeper?"

"At one time, yes."

"On October thirty-first, 1981. Were you then?"

"No."

"Who was?"

"Peter Pettigrew."

"Why did you switch?"

"Voldemort would have expected James and Lily to use me. Peter was a weak, inept, and senseless excuse for a wizard. Voldemort would have not suspected that he would be the Secret-Keeper."

"What took place between October thirty-first and November first?"

"That night, I had a feeling something was wrong; I went to check on Peter. He was gone; there was no sign of struggle, and I knew then what he had done—what I had done." The Veritaserum, which usually masked the drinker's emotions, could do nothing to hide the break in Sirius's voice, nor hold back the tears that he had to blink away.

The assembly made sounds of sympathy, completely ignoring Fudge's disapproving expression.

James laid an arm over his wife and son's shoulders, offering the little comfort he could without embracing them.

"Continue, please," Dumbledore said softly, his tone almost regretful.

"I flew to Godric's Hollow as quickly as I could. There, my worst fear was confirmed. The house was a ruin—James and Lily were both"—his voice quavered—"they were both dead. Hagrid had gotten there before I did; he was holding Harry. I pleaded with him to let me take Harry; I'm his godfather, James and Lily had delegated his custody to me if anything happened to them. Hagrid refused and said that he had to take Harry to Dumbledore. I gave him my motorcycle to get him there."

"And the next day?"

"I returned to salvage anything I could from the mess—things to remember them by, or that Harry would want when he was older. That's when I cornered Peter."

"And what occurred during that confrontation?"

"Peter shouted 'James and Lily, Sirius! How could you?' then cast a spell into the middle of the street, causing an explosion, raising dust and chaos. The next thing I saw was a rat streaking into the sewer, and muggles screaming—many of them were already dead on the ground."

Dumbledore nodded acknowledgement. "For the record, did you kill Peter Pettigrew?"

"No."

"Did you kill any muggles?"

"No."

"No further questions," Dumbledore finished quietly.

"Shifflet, you have the floor." Fudge said, thinking that this was the last of the witnesses.

"No, your honor." Shifflet declined the invitation.

Fudge looked to the counselor, shocked. "You do not wish to question the accused?"

"No," Shifflet said matter-of-factly.

"Why not?" This was something the Minister had not expected, and he hadn't any idea of how to deal with it.

"Because no amount of questioning can dig my client out of the mess he is—or was—in."

Fudge ran his hand through his hair. "All right then," he said as Sirius was given the counter-serum.

Sirius shook his head to clear the fuzziness and looked to Dumbledore.

"Next," the headmaster whispered.

Sirius nodded, his face set in grim determination.

"Seeing that we are done—"

"Oh, no, Cornelius," Dumbledore corrected. "I have one more witness."

Fudge looked shocked, but recovered quickly and nodded.

The room's back door opened and Kingsley and Tonks led a trembling Peter Pettigrew in at wandpoint.

There was an instant uproar, which intensified as Peter was led to the witness' chair. Kingsley added chains with a casual flick of his wand. Giving Sirius a wink, the two Aurors stepped back, but only a meter or so, their wands trained on the shaking man.

Mrs. Pettigrew's sobs and cries of, "My baby! Oh, Peter! How could you?" could be heard over the tumultuous din.

Fudge was shooting off multiple (and entirely ineffectual) bangs and blasts from his wand.

Sirius was staring straight ahead, focusing on a knothole in the wood that made up the stage where the long bench was. Harry would not have been surprised if the table started to smoke from the intensity of his godfather's stare.

Dumbledore was letting the shock of Pettigrew's presence sink in before he made a move. At last, he stood and faced the people gathered. The courtroom fell still; there was utter silence.

Sitting back down with a satisfied expression, he faced Fudge's cold stare. "What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore?" he spat.

"I am only adding a witness to strengthen our case," Dumbledore said serenely.

"But—but—but," the Minister sputtered.

"The Veritaserum if you please?"

The holder of the Veritaserum approached, not waiting for approval from Fudge (it was quite plain that he was no longer fully in control of the proceedings), all but forced Peter's mouth open to administer the truth potion, and backed away.

Dumbledore looked to Shifflet, inviting him to go first.

When the other counselor shook his head, Dumbledore stood.

"What is your full name?" There was a certain harshness in the wizard's voice that no other witness had induced.

"Peter Brian Pettigrew."

"Were you the Potters' Secret-Keeper?"

"Yes."

"Did you convince them to change from Mr. Black to you?"

"No. Sirius did—it was meant to be a ruse, to deceive my master. But I did suggest the idea to him."

"Where you a Death Eater at the time?"

"Yes."

"Did Voldemort"—there was a collective wince and many gasps at the dreaded name, which Dumbledore ignored—"persuade you to hand him the Potters?"

"Yes."

"Did he, to your knowledge, use the Imperius curse on you?"

"No."

"So you betrayed your best friends to Voldemort of your own free will?"

"Yes."

"No, no, no, no." Mrs. Pettigrew whispered to herself, rocking back and forth in her seat. Her face was a mask of horror.

"Did you kill those thirteen muggles?"

"Yes."

"And did you stage your own death?"

"Yes."

"How did you escape?"

"I transformed into a rat and hid in the sewer."

"Where were you living after Voldemort was defeated?"

"With a wizarding family—the Weasleys. Their third son, Percy, kept me as a pet."

Percy looked up from the parchment he was writing on to stare for an instant at Pettigrew, looking faintly nauseated.

"Did they ever know that you were a wizard?"

"No. Not while I was living with them. Eventually I was given to the youngest son, Ron, who discovered my identity when he was thirteen. By now I would think the whole family knows."

"You helped Voldemort return, is this true?"

"Yes. I sacrificed my right hand for my master." Pettigrew held up the silver hand he had been given in exchange.

Dumbledore started to ask another question before Fudge interrupted. "How did you turn into a rat? You are not on the list of registered Animagi."

"I am not registered."

"Why?"

"Because I became an Animagus during my fifth year at Hogwarts."

"Why?"

This was it. James' hand tightened on Lily's shoulder. Remus' expression was outwardly calm, but one looking closely could see the tension readily evident in his face.

"Because of—"

"Minister, I would like to continue this line of questioning privately, if you please," Dumbledore interrupted quickly.

"And if I don't?" Fudge asked, with the distinct air of a contrary child.

"Then it's just too bad for you, you idiotic, pompous windbag," Sirius muttered.

"Then I must ask that you refrain from persisting to ask that question," Dumbledore said mildly.

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