- 7 -

.

Summer 1994

"This is outrageous Dumbledore! You can't be serious."

"I'm afraid I am, Cornelius. I brought Peter Pettigrew to the Ministry myself. Aurors are questioning him as we speak."

The Minister took off his bowler hat and slumped back into the heavy leather chair behind his desk, which looked much too comfortable for an office.

"You talked to them? Black and Pettigrew? Are you sure Black is innocent?"

At Albus nod, he groaned and buried his face in his hands. Moments later he seemed to realize the vulnerability of this action, and slowly folded his hands in his lap.

"This is a disaster. He can't be innocent. He was locked up for years! This going to be a PR nightmare, and not only in Britain! With the Quidditch Worldcup taking place here this year, international journalists will be crawling all over the place."

Albus remained silent, allowing the Minister to gather his thoughts.

"Maybe Pettigrew just hid because he was afraid of- of Black? Black could still be the real killer."

Albus suppressed the exasperated sigh that wanted to escape him. Trust Cornelius to look for ways to avoid the truth as long as possible.

"From what I've learned so far, it's more likely that Sirius Black was innocent from the beginning and Pettigrew the real culprit."

Fudge shoulders slumped.

"Do you know what this means Albus? What this will look like? They'll descend on me like vultures! And I don't even want to think about the troubles certain families are going to make when word gets out that Black was sent to Azkaban without trial. This is going to be a nightmare."

Albus' eyes wandered to the big window on the right side of Cornelius' desk, watching the busy comings and goings down in the Atrium, witches, and wizards stepping in and out of fireplaces, colleagues chatting on their way out, delivery owls crossing paths… It was only an illusion – in reality, the Minster's office was deep inside the bowls of the Ministry – but an accurate one, that allowed the Minister to oversee the happenings in the entrance hall.

Yes, he had come to the same conclusion as Cornelius, and it was indeed worrisome. He didn't think that any of the other Death Eaters incarcerated in Azkaban were innocent, and if any of Tom's faithful followers now managed to get released on the grounds of a procedural defect…

He had no doubt that Tom would return one day, and the idea of giving him an advantage like this irked Albus to no end, but with Peter Pettigrew's quite public reappearance – shocked and desperate for proof as he was, Remus had forced Peter into his human form in the midst of the Gryffindor common room, just as the rat was about to disappear through a crack in the wall – his hands were bound. They couldn't make this any less public if they tried; he only hoped that Sirius' case remained an exception.

"The Triwizard Tournament," Fudge suddenly blurted. "We'll have to postpone it until the worst is behind us. We don't need foreign Ministry Officials watching our every move." He shook his head vehemently. "This will tarnish our reputation enough as it is."

Albus silently agreed, though not for the same reason. He knew Cornelius craved prestige. He feared the Minister might rush through the rulings, not giving them the proper attention they needed, afraid of digging up old dirt under the watchful gaze of foreign Ministries.

"Madame Maxime expressed concern due to the situation with Black already, and I think Headmaster Karkaroff will quite readily agree to stay out of Britain in a time where old Death Eater trials are brought back to the public's attention. It shouldn't be hard to convince them that postponing is in their best interest."

For a moment Cornelius stared at him open-mouthed, apparently not expecting Albus support.

"You think? Won't it cast a bad light on us if we postpone? I don't want anybody to think we're hiding something. Maybe-"

Albus felt the first signs of a weak headache above his eyes. It was tiresome dealing with a Minister as insecure as Cornelius. On some days Albus' support reassured him in his decisions, on other days, like today it seemed, he allowed his delusions that Albus was after his position to cloud his judgment.

If only he showed the same level of wariness when it came to Lucius Malfoy.

"I think your idea was excellent, Cornelius. Peter Pettigrew's and Sirius Black's trial will demand the Ministry's full attention, as will any trials that might follow in their wake."

For a moment Cornelius seemed to hesitate, but then nodded and smiled thinly. "Of course, Albus. I just wish we didn't have to postpone it. Barty will be on my case for weeks! Has put a lot of effort into organizing the whole thing. But then again, with his personal history, his son being a Death Eater and all, he might understand."

Fudge was at his feet by now and moving towards the door. "I'm a bit in a hurry now, Albus, you understand. I have to talk to Barty and should probably go down to the Auror Department too, with a case as important as this."

Albus smiled merrily. "After you, Cornelius. Sirius is in one of your holding cells at the moment, I can trust you will see to it that he is treated decently until his innocence is proven?"

"Sure, sure. Of course, wouldn't want to give him a reason to sue us." Cornelius' lips twisted sourly.

"Excellent," Albus said, answering Cornelius' less than happy expression with a beaming smile of his own, before he strode down the hall towards the elevator, purple robes flowing in his wake.

.

Spring 1995

"The letters, again?" Harry asked as Al got up from the breakfast table and immediately put on his shoes and got ready to leave.

It was that time of the year again. Al got letters four times a year, once every season. Not always at the same date though, and Harry had no idea how Al knew when they arrived.

"Yes," grumbled Al, his voice still rough and unused from the night. They never talked much during breakfast, neither of them was a morning person; they preferred to drink their tea in silence while they got ready for the day ahead.

Once the novelty of post owls had worn off, Harry had stopped accompanying Al to retrieve the letters. The march to the clearing took almost three hours and Harry had grown bored of the trip long ago.

"I'll go out hunting then. I think I'm in the mood for deer."

Al looked at him oddly but grunted his consent.

Harry knew why Al looked at him that way. Ever since he'd first killed that stag with his knife, Harry's fascination with hunting had only grown. He couldn't really explain why, but the hunt thrilled him.

He didn't much care for shooting rabbits and pheasants with his bow and arrow, but hunting bigger animals, ones that were of superior strength and speed, ones that by all rights he shouldn't be able to kill with his bare hands and his small knife, hunting those was a thrill. Only he, his magic, and his knife.

Maybe it was because of all the books about fighting dangerous magical creatures he read, maybe it was because he had nothing else to do and hunting was the only diversion he had…

In the end, Harry didn't care. There was nothing wrong in enjoying a good hunt – lots of people did so, even the Queen, from what he had heard when he'd still been living with the Dursleys.

Shortly after Al had left, Harry grabbed his knife and went to the back of the house. There, in a cage Harry had built himself, sat a big brown rabbit, chewing on the bread crust Harry had given to it the day before.

"Petrificus Totalus."

The rabbit fell to the side.

"Come on, big boy, time to go," said Harry, and with a murmured incantation and a swish of his wand, the rabbit rose up into the air and followed Harry into the woods.

The leaves on the deciduous trees were still young and light green, Harry's steps nearly soundless on the soft forest floor. Above him birds were chirping and, he noticed a little jealously, flying from one tree to another, and somewhere nearby he could make out the sound of a woodpecker busy at work.

Next to summer, spring was his favourite season. There was just so much life in the woods at this time of the year, the snakes woke up from hibernation and Harry could hear them hissing excitedly as they slithered through the undergrowth, baby animals were born, birds returned from their winter journey, and the evenings were growing longer and warmer again.

After half an hour's foot march, his path ascended slowly and the moss-covered forest floor gave way to a rockier underground. Soon he reached his favourite place in the woods, his cave. He'd found it the summer after he had turned twelve. Its entrance was broad enough for two people to go side-by-side, but not very high – Al had had to bow his head when Harry had shown it to him.

The cave was only a little bigger than the cupboard under the stairs at Privet Drive, but a narrow path at its right end led deeper into the rocks.

Harry had of course followed it soon after discovering the cave. Sadly it didn't really lead anywhere, just to a dank, moldy place, even smaller than the first cave and bereft of any sunlight.

Jumping from stone to stone he crossed the small river that flowed right past his cave and through the woods below. At last, he stepped onto a narrow strip of pebble beach and climbed up to the cave – though to call what he was doing climbing was probably stretching it a bit. Al had been able to lift him up and sit him onto to edge of the stone without trouble.

Once inside he immediately went to the back of the cave to retrieve two pieces of wood, three short wooden sticks, and a rather poor-looking book.

He sat down on the ground near the entrance of the cave where the light shone brightest and opened the book. Next to him laid the petrified rabbit and two square plate-sized pieces of wood with identical inscriptions. The words were written at regular intervals, one on each side of the square.

All's Well - Sick - Danger - Dead

One piece was roughly hewn, the letters uneven, while the other was made with great care, and, as Harry could attest to, lots of time and effort.

"…the day of the new moon, coat the watch hand with the enchanted blood. Let it rest for seven days, then repeat the process once for each lunar phase. On the 29th day, before the new moon rises once again, fix the hand to the clock."

Harry picked up one of the sticks and put it in the middle of the roughly hewn version of the clock. He raised his wand and moved it in well-practiced motions while he chanted the long string of words written down in his book.

The dark red wood gleamed ominously in the sunlight, and to Harry, it seemed as if it were getting hotter inside the cave as if the stick were attracting and absorbing the light.

Well, he was doing magic. It probably was.

Once the spell was done, Harry lowered his wand and picked up the clock. The watch hand was attached to the center of the square and pointing to 'Danger'.

Harry looked down at the rabbit. Yes, being petrified and in the presence of a person that intended to kill you in the near future probably justified the watch hand's position.

He floated the rabbit down to the pebble beach and lifted the petrification. At first, it hopped around nervously, confused by the change of location, but soon it calmed down and started sniffing at various stones and the weeds growing in-between.

The watch hand didn't move.

Harry lowered his wand and banned all thoughts of killing the rabbit, trying to make his presence as unthreatening as possible.

It still didn't move.

"I won't kill it, I won't. Okay?"

Great. Now he was talking to inanimate objects.

It worked though. The magic seemed to pick up on his sincere intention to leave the rabbit alive, and the watch hand slowly moved to 'All's Well'.

Harry petrified the rabbit again – the watch hand switched to 'Danger' immediately – and climbed out of the cave, the two clocks as well as the rest of his stuff floating behind him.

Now that he was sure that his clock worked, he wasn't in the mood to go hunting any longer.

He had things to do, preparations to make!

He would have to find and enchant a container for their blood, he wanted to engrave Al's and his name into their respective watch hands, and maybe continue working on the watch itself for a while longer. Right now all it was decorated with were a few small wooden stars he had carved into its surface.

All of a sudden the hours until Al's return didn't feel so long anymore.

.

Al came home in the late afternoon, once again carrying a small package.

"Thought you went hunting?" He said and looked around frowning.

"Had something better to do." Harry grinned and jumped to his feet. "So what's in there? Chocolate frogs? I haven't had any chocolate for ages."

"Yes, because you're a greedy little thing and ate all of it within two days," said Al and ruffled Harry's hair affectionately.

"Oi!" Harry cried out. "I used a flattening charm on it this morning!"

"Flattening charm? Are you sure about that? Could've fooled me."

Harry huffed indignantly and stomped inside.

"Why're you using a flattening charm anyway? It's not like anyone but I sees you."

"The snakes see me," Harry said. "They always remind me to style my hair and take good care of it, you know, because they have none."

"What?"

At the flabbergasted look on Al's face, Harry couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Just kidding," he sniggered. "I had no idea you were so gullible."

"Well, how should I know what matters to snakes. I can't talk to them."

He put the package onto the table and started cutting it open.

"Then you're just vain? When did that happen?"

"I'm not vain," Harry groused. "I just found the spell and wanted to try it out. No harm done."

"No harm done? Don't you know that beauty charms shrink the brain over time?"

Harry looked at Al horrified.

"A widely known fact. But I heard the effects aren't as bad when there isn't much to be harmed in the first place. Guess you're lucky."

"Not much to be…" Harry repeated slowly, then narrowed his eyes angrily. "You're lying, aren't you? There are no side effects!"

Al's eyes sparkled with laughter. "I had no idea you were so gullible, Harry."

Harry folded his arms, deciding to ignore Al for the time being. It was annoying. One time he managed to get one over the old man, and Al had to get back at him immediately. Now he couldn't even remind Al of the incident without being mocked in return.

"Will you stop sulking if I tell you that there's a whole package of frogs in here, just for you?"

Harry graciously let the comment about sulking slide and took the proffered box of chocolates from Al's hand.

"I've got something else for you too."

Al handed Harry a leather-bound book. It wasn't hard to guess its content. The title, "Salazar Slytherin", didn't leave much to the imagination.

"It's a book about Slytherin, his life, his philosophy, thought it would be nice for you to have it. It's important to learn about family history, especially if one is as famous as yours."

Family. For the last few years, Al had been all the family he needed, but maybe sometime in the future, it would be nice to find out if he had other, blood-related relatives too.

"Thanks, Al, it's great." He rounded the table to give Al a rare hug. "Oh, by the way, I've got something for you too!"

Even before he'd finished speaking, Harry was running outside to get his present.

It wasn't wrapped, but he didn't think Al cared much about that.

He hid it behind his back to keep it out of Al's view until he was standing right before him.

"Here you are." Harry gave his gift to Al and held his breath.

"Is that…" Al looked at the clock, then back at Harry. "Is that what I think it is? A family clock?"

Harry nodded.

"And you made it, all by yourself?"

"Yeah, took me a while, but…"

"Of course it took you some time, it's incredible that you managed it at all, this is really advanced magic, Harry. I'm very impressed."

Harry felt his face heat up. Al didn't dish out praise easily.

"I only ever saw a clock like this once before, it was slightly different though. It could tell what a person did, like working, traveling or sleeping."

"My book had instructions for that too, but it's harder to make and I thought it wouldn't be of much use. We don't do a lot of different things here."

The last sentence left a bitter taste in his mouth. While Harry enjoyed his life with Al a lot, and couldn't be more thankful that Al had taken him in instead of sending him back to the Dursleys, it was frustrating to never meet new people or go to different places.

Al nodded thoughtfully. "Quite right. So, I see the watch hands are not yet attached to it. What do we need to do?"

Pushing all negatives thoughts away, Harry hurriedly started explaining.

.

Summer 1995

Harry was sitting at the breakfast table, his book about Salazar Slytherin leaning against a jar of strawberry jam.

Salazar had been born to a family of wizards and grew up in the north of England, but left his birthplace sometime in his teenage years, presumably to take up an apprenticeship.

Not much was known about his life during the following years, he only resurfaced when he and three friends decided to found a School for Magic – Hogwarts.

From what Harry had read so far, Slytherin seemed to have been an impressive wizard. The book said he was skilled in the Mind Arts and had a special talent for something called Legilimency, which allowed a wizard or witch take a glimpse into another person's thoughts.

He was also famous for his ambition and cunning, traits the Slytherin house at Hogwarts still prized in its members.

His attitude towards muggles reminded Harry of Al. Salazar Slytherin thought of muggles as an inferior race and was against allowing muggle-born students into his school.

Another type of magic linked to Slytherin was the Dark Arts. Harry had never heard of them before.

He'd studied books on Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Potions, and sometimes the authors warned of the dangers of carelessly using certain spells, but he had never come across the term Dark Magic before.

From what he could tell, it was some sort of battle magic, used predominantly in duels, but he hadn't been able to find anything more. No incantations, not even detailed descriptions of its effects.

He'd asked Al about it immediately after discovering the term, but Al hadn't been helpful at all. Only said that Harry was still too young to study it.

Which was rubbish, in Harry's humble opinion. He was 15, hardly a child anymore. His ancestor had ventured out into the world on his own while still in his teenage years, so he should at least be able to read books on whatever subject he wanted!

With that thought in mind, Harry once again unlocked Al's bedroom door to look for a book. Harry immediately discarded the books without titles; he didn't have the time to go through them page by page.

After about an hour in Al's room, Harry finally found a book that looked promising. The title read 'Dark Secrets' and Harry hesitated for a moment before pulling it out.

"Don't be stupid. It's just a book," he murmured to himself before grabbing it.

With the book, a picture fell out of the shelf. It showed a group of young men, all wearing similar black robes, standing in front of an impressive castle. Harry was about to put the picture back when he recognised Al in one of the boys. He looked no older than 16 and was twirling a wand in his right hand.

A wand.

Harry stared at the picture open-mouthed. He had never seen Al do any magic, and as Al stubbornly avoided talking about the topic, Harry had, shortly after discovering the existence of squibs in one of his books, come to the conclusion that Al must be unable to do any magic. But then why was he holding a wand? And the castle in the background, could this be Hogwarts? It certainly fitted the descriptions Harry had read.

This photo strongly suggested that Al had been a student at Hogwarts. A student with a wand. A wizard.

Carefully Harry put the photo back. He didn't know what to make of this and was more confused and curious than ever before, but he could hardly ask Al about a photo he shouldn't even know of in the first place.

Looking down at the book in his hand, Harry decided to postpone trying to solve the mystery that was Al's life. He wanted to get through as many chapters of the book as possible before Al returned.

He left the room as quietly as he had come and ventured out into the garden to read while lying in the sun.

The book was fascinating. There was a chapter on poisonous potions and one of the poisons described was a potion that remained dormant in a person's body until he or she spoke certain words that would trigger its effect. The brewer could choose the words the potions would react to and it used to be a popular way to assure somebody's silence.

The book also mentioned curses that could make blood boil, entrails disintegrate or explode, curses that could suggest certain ideas to a person and make it seem like these thoughts were their own, even spells to curse someone with bad luck or never-ending nightmares.

Harry had never thought these things possible, which in retrospect, made him feel kind of stupid. He could transfigure a cup into a mouse, an inanimate object into a living being, it really shouldn't have come as a surprise to him that magic could also be used for more malicious purposes.

The last chapter was devoted to a trio of curses. The Killing Curse, the Imperius Curse, and the Cruciatus Curse.

Invented during the Middle Ages, the Imperius Curse is also known as the Curse of Enslavement, as its victim is forced to submit to the caster's control. Only a person of superior strength of will can hope of resisting it.

Should he, shouldn't he… Harry had never felt more nervous. But he wanted to prove to himself (and Al) that he wasn't too young to study Dark Magic, that he was skilled enough to cast these curses.

"Accio," said Harry, and a moment later the big brown rabbit, that was still living in the cage behind the hut, flew towards him. As he hadn't petrified it this time, the rabbit was flailing around wildly.

The rabbit still suspended in the air, Harry quickly browsed through the book's content once again. He wanted a curse that would show an immediate reaction, but nothing too bloody, he had grown used to the rabbit during the last month, what with feeding it and keeping an eye on its clock. It didn't deserve a cruel death.

Well, maybe he should go with the last curse he read about.

"Imperio," Harry said and pointed the wand at the animal.

Nothing happened.

"Imperio," Harry said again, but the rabbit didn't relinquish control.

"Imperio," Harry snapped annoyed, he wanted the stupid rabbit to stop moving!

Suddenly the rabbit held its body completely still, not even its ears were twitching. At the same time, Harry felt, well, he didn't know what exactly, but something. Maybe the rabbits will or presence or fight for control… it was some sort of connection.

Slowly he lowered the rabbit to the ground.

"Jump," Harry said and the rabbit jumped.

"Jump backwards."

"Wiggle your ears."

"Do a somersault."

Amazingly enough, it did everything it was told, though its somersault ended in a rather poor attempt.

"Behave normally, but don't leave the clearing."

The rabbit hopped away as if nothing had happened.

.

Not expecting Al to return before the evening, Harry once again spent his next morning outside, soaking up the warm summer sun and reading the Dark Arts book. He wanted to cover as many chapters as possible before the old man returned.

He was so engrossed in his reading, that he didn't notice someone approach until the man's figure cast a dark shadow over him.

Harry looked up in surprise. "Al! What, why-"

A deep cut on Al's cheek made him lose his stray of thought momentarily.

"What happened?"

"Just as small mishap," Al said dismissively. "What are you reading?"

Harry looked down at the book to his feet guiltily. "Um, I just-"

Al, who had followed his line of sight, suddenly looked very angry. "Where did you get that book, Harry?"

"I-"

"Did you enter my room?"

Harry didn't know what to say, Al looked so angry… It was unfair; all he had wanted was to read up on an interesting subject.

"Did you enter my room, Harry?"

"I'm sorry," Harry stuttered. "I just, you said it was too difficult for me, and I just wanted to prove to myself that it wasn't."

"And you thought just because you wanted to, it was okay to break into my room?"

"I don't know why you're keeping it locked anyway," Harry replied stubbornly. "It's not like there's some big secret hidden inside."

"It doesn't matter why!" Al had raised his voice. "I told you not to go into my room, I expressively forbid you from practicing any Dark Magic, and as soon as I turn my back you betray my trust!"

"Well what was I supposed to do? I read all the books you gave me and studying how to transfigure a cup into a bird or something gets boring. I don't have any friends my age here. I don't have anything to do but study and wander through the woods. I was bored. And this sounded like it was fun."

"Fun," Al thundered. "You invaded my privacy because it was fun."

"That's not what I said!" Harry shouted. "You're twisting my words."

"I don't care. Give me that book. You won't be getting any new ones, that's for sure."

Harry picked the book up and threw it at Al. It fell back to the ground with a loud thud.

"Pick it up and give it to me like a civilized wizard," Al said, eyes narrowed angrily.

"Pick it up yourself if all you care about is that stupid book."

Harry turned around and ran into the woods, tears streaming down his face.

It wasn't fair. Day in day out it was the same, he didn't have a single friend, didn't know a single person besides Al because the stubborn old man forbids him from association with the people living in the muggle village nearby.

He brushed his tears away angrily. If Al didn't want him to find something to do inside the house, well, then he'd just have to make some new experience out here.

"Point me," said Harry, balancing his wand on his flat hand, thinking as hard as he could about a village or town, just some kind of civilisation.

The wand spun twice before it rested, pointing north, and Harry determinately followed its lead.

He must have been walking for hours before he encountered the first house; it was getting dark already. Not willing to give up so close to his goal, Harry continued.

Soon the trees became sparser and more and more houses appeared in the distance. Once Harry had reached a paved road he encountered the first muggles. It was weird. He hadn't seen anybody but Al for years; all of these people just seemed so… normal.

There was a middle-aged woman pushing a buggy down the street, and two young boys racing each other on inline skates. When one of them caught sight of him, he grinned broadly and nudged the other boy. Now both were staring at him, as if he were some weird curiosity.

Could they see he was different?

Harry continued down the road and soon reached what he thought was supposed to be the village center.

There was a post office, a restaurant, and even a dingy-looking pub. A car sped past him, and Harry took in a deep breath, enjoying the slight smell of exhaust fumes in the air.

He should have come here earlier, he hadn't realised before now how much he had missed civilisation.

He wandered through the village a little longer, from time to time people were shooting him curious glances, but Harry couldn't be bothered. This was his first time back in a village for who knows how many years; nothing could spoil that.

The village wasn't exactly big, and two hours later Harry had seen everything and was back where he had started. It was really dark by now, and the street lights – glorious street lights – were his only source of light.

"Hey stranger."

The sound of a feminine voice made Harry turn around. A petite girl, probably around his age, was sitting on a little bench, a beer can in hand.

"You're not from around here." It wasn't a question.

"No," Harry said stupidly. He hadn't talked to someone his age, let alone a girl, in ages.

"Thought so. I know everybody here." She took a sip of her beer and simultaneously brushed a few strands of blonde hair out of her face.

"So… Are you a goth?"

"What?" Harry asked flabbergasted. He'd heard that expression somewhere before, but its meaning wouldn't come to him.

She waved her hand in his direction. "Just asking, 'cause of the clothes, you know."

Surprised Harry looked down at himself. He had completely forgotten that he was wearing robes! No wonder all those people had been staring at him.

"Oh, um, no, not really."

She only shrugged and held out a can of beer to him. "You want one? Nobody else will be coming tonight. You could keep me company."

Harry stared at the beer. He had never drunk alcohol before. Al would definitely disapprove.

"Sure," he said, took the can, and sat down next to her.

.

Barty hated muggle transportation. It was so… undignified. Herded like cattle. He could smell his neighbour, a fat man who was sweating as if he'd just won a Quidditch match.

The woman opposite him was once again blowing her nose.

Merlin.

He just wanted to grab his wand and hex the stupid thing off.

But he couldn't. No, no, no. He had to behave unassumingly. Couldn't have anyone becoming suspicious.

The fat man took a bite of some sort of sandwich (muggle sandwich, surely disgusting) and chewed open-mouthed, behaving like the animal he was.

If his Lord could see him now, see what his most devoted, most faithful follower was enduring for him… oooh… he would shower him in praise, reward him for his endurance.

Muggles. Simply disgusting. He would love to blow up the train, a little brain matter here, a few intestines there… that was art, that was all muggles were good for.

He sniggered, and the disgusting, coughing, wheezing woman shot him a disturbed glance.

Oh if she knew, if only she knew…

There was a voice coming from those machines muggles used to make sound travel distances. It was probably the conductor announcing their next stop.

The background noise made the voice hard to understand, but it didn't really matter, the language was foreign to him anyway.

Once again, he looked down at the old newspaper in his hands. An old Daily Prophet.

His eyes flew over the article about Sirius Black…

...

Sirius Black free!

False information led to unjust imprisonment.

Minister graciously offers Black One Thousand Galleons as compensation.

Mr. Black's rash decision to break out of Azkaban was costly:

"All the added security, the wanted posters… He should have approached a patrolling Auror about the misunderstanding before taking matters into his own hands. The Ministry would have been more than happy to compensate him richly then," says a spokesperson for the Ministry. (More on page 8)

...

…and further down, until he reached the lines he was looking for. The lines he could read again and again. It never got boring.

...

Bartemius Crouch Sr. found dead!

Crazy House Elf suspected of murder.

"I had to walk outside immediately. The stench was unbearable. One of the trainees couldn't help but empty his stomach. It was- I have never- The poor man."

(More on page 12)

...

He sniggered again. Yes… it had been unbearable… unbearably beautiful… a cathartic experience.

He leaned back into his seat, and with a content smile on his face, Barty Crouch Jr. watched the countryside of Albania fly past.

If you have the time, please leave a review.

I always love to hear your thoughts on the story.