The caves outside of Hogsmede were extensive. Professor Binns had once taught that, back in the time of The Founders, the caves hosted a clan of goblins that used them for a home after mining them dry. No one stayed in them now except the occasional small animals as Goblins were not allowed to live outside their banks.

The wand he had stolen did not like him. That wasn't surprising since he had killed the previous owner. Allegiances in wands rarely changed unless it was already a legacy wand and not one that had a single owner for its entire existence. So this wand allowed him short bursts of apparation and up to around fourth-year spells, though all of them were still underpowered.

Deep in the caves, he transfigured for himself a soft mattress, a food cabinet, and enchanted a wall to provide light. It wasn't nearly as nice as what he had purchased for his cell in Azkaban, but less cold from the dementors. He could still feel them close by, but it was just a minor chill compared to the bone-freezing cold of the prison.

Sirius tried to spend as much of the day as he could outside when the dementors avoided the sunlight. They weren't like vampires and wouldn't get weaker or die under the sun, they just didn't like it, and the Aurors provided them a building to inhabit while the sun was up and they were on patrol. That allowed The Grim to stalk around Hogsmeade and try to find a way into the school.

During one expedition, he overheard a bunch of old men talking about him while playing wizard chess. He couldn't hear much, just occasionally his name, Fudge, or Marisol Selic. He was hiding in an alley a block away and letting his canine ears pick up bits and pieces, but as soon as they left, he snuck closer and found a Witch Weekly magazine. As it was strange for a bunch of old men to be having a magazine targeting the young-adult to middle-age witch demographic, he snatched it in his mouth and made a hasty retreat back to his cave.

When he was safe on his transfigured mattress, he opened the magazine. The cover had some fashion advice and an Italian model, but in the lower corner was written: Marisol Selic's Explosive Revelation - Page 3

Sirius flipped toward the article to see what she had uncovered and began to read.

Witches and Wizards of Magical Britain and beyond. At this point, my name has been spoken by nearly everyone in this country, and probably not in a good way. A few weeks ago, I had a wonderful night out followed by a terrifying revelation. I did what any good citizen would have done and reported my encounter with our country's most wanted criminal as quickly as possible. However, what happened next, I couldn't have predicted.

Of course, there was going to be a story. That was unavoidable. However, after having my reputation tarnished by Minister Fudge, I was left devastated. Who was this horrible person who would drag my name through the mud in such an evil way? I lost my assignment at the Daily Prophet, and a few days later, my entire job. I spent a whole day crying, and the entire time owls started flying in non-stop. Horrible messages from people around the country, insults, howlers, corrosive potions, cursed items, and one man who has been reported to the Aurors for sending me a clipping of Devil's Snare. You didn't sign your name, but you're still an idiot for using your personal owl with your family's crest on its wing.

All of this I felt had happened because of our Minister. I was still having a hard time reconciling that the good man I voted for could have shamed me and set me up in such a horrible way. So to set my mind at ease and try to sort out my feelings for the leader of Magical Britain, I started a little bit of research. What I wanted to focus on was a claim that the Minister made while on the tour of Azkaban Prison. He had told the members of the press that he had been the first on the scene to arrest Sirius Black those many years ago. I wanted to figure out how the man could be the hero who had taken down the right-hand-man for You-Know-Who could also be the one who had ruined my life.

I dug through arrest records and found that Sirius Black had been arrested on November 2nd, 1981. The signatures on the arrest record were from Cornelius Fudge, working in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes (DMAC) at the time, and Bartemius Crouch Sr, Formerly the Head of the DMLE. Two upstanding members of our government. Here is where things get interesting.

I encourage anyone interested in verifying what I am about to say to check the public records, where you will find the Mugshot of Sirius Black when he was admitted into Azkaban before being put into his cell. The man looks like a maniac; laughing and with the eyes of a murderer; however, the most important detail of the picture is the date on which it was taken. The date Sirius Black was admitted into the prison was November 3rd, 1981.

I can remember when his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange was on trial for her crimes. It took about two hours just to list all the crimes she was being charged with. However, can anyone in Magical Britain remember the trial of Sirius Black? I examined all the court dockets between the time of his arrest and his incarceration and found there were none that included the Dark Lord's favorite lieutenant. He is certainly a murderer, of that I have no doubt, but how do we know all the details of his crimes, and position within the Death Eaters? If there was no investigation, no trial, no confession, how do we know what happened?

Now before you start sending me more howlers and clippings of deadly plants, I'm sure quite a few of those reading this are thinking, "Why should I care about this horrible man? He betrayed the Potters and murdered twelve muggles and one wizard." Let me put this in a language some of you might be more ready to hear.

There is now a precedent for a Pureblood from a Noble and Most Ancient House to be thrown into Azkaban without a trial.

Yeah, as you are reading this, I can hear quite a few of you going from cursing me for my indiscretion in partners to your jaws hitting the floor and the silence flowing from that same hole that was spewing hatred just a few minutes ago.

If someone can do that to him, what would they do to someone of a Noble House? A commoner? The ministry already openly discriminates against half-bloods and muggleborns so it wouldn't be that much of a surprise to hear it happening to one of them.

So now I have reconciled my feelings about our great Minister Fudge. He's a man who would throw a man in prison without a trial and without caring about the consequences of his actions. He's also a man who would drag a woman's name through the mud and now needs to reap the consequences of that woman's scorn. Maybe one day I'll get to see you in court, Mr. Fudge.

As I have lost my position at The Daily Prophet, I will be continuing to write this story under Witch Weekly. As part of my contract with them, I will have another story to follow up on this one and then I will be publishing more salacious details of my one-night affair with the man who I found out later was Sirius Black.

Stay tuned.

Sirius put the magazine down.

Damn.

A woman's scorn was right. Hell hath no fury. He smiled, then let out a barking laugh that echoed through the cave systems.

Then, seeing an article about creative tips for the use of cosmetic potions, he turned to it for tips on how to make his disguises better while wondering how the hell Fudge was dealing with the fallout of the article.


The Minister had canceled all public appearances since the article had come out and was now pacing through his office, impatiently waiting for the only person he wanted to speak to. Finally, late in the evening, his assistant brought in Bartemius Crouch Sr. The two men sized each other up as Fudge's assistant closed the door.

The difference between the two men was almost comical. While Fudge was short, a bit overweight and wore his trademark, too-small, green bowler's cap, and looked a bit like an elderly cartoon character; Crouch was tall, had the physique of a man who used to hunt dark wizards, and had a mustache that stayed groomed on its own out of fear of what he'd do to it if it didn't stay straight.

Fudge fidgeted a bit before asking the older man, "Barty! What are we going to do?"

"We've already started doing it," the man replied. "The dementors are hunting down an escaped inmate with a 'Kiss on Sight' order. He will not survive and the problem will be solved."

"But what about the reporter? What about the precedent?" Fudge asked nervously.

"There is no issue. Arcturus Black wanted to see all the members of his family that served You-Know-Who to die or be locked away. He just wanted to sweep them under the rug, instead of proclaiming them as heroes if the Dark Lord had won. He's dead now along with every other member of his family that would or could care. No one else would tolerate such an occurrence in their family so precedent doesn't matter."

"I guess so…" Fudge admitted. "Could we at least call for a trial?"

"Do what you want, maybe Black will want to brag about his crimes like his cousin and we can give him The Kiss afterward."

"But…" Fudge began hesitantly.

Crouch interrupted, "Fool! Have you forgotten the prophecy? Who he is hunting? What will happen if he kills him? We can't let Black escape again."

"No…" Fudge said quietly, then asked hopefully, "Maybe if you let me hear it again?"

"No, " Crouch responded firmly. "You know what it says. You know what it means if he starts killing again. Thirteen was too many. Who knows what will happen if he kills more?"

"I will call for a press conference. Try to see if we can smooth this whole thing out. I need to reassure the people."

"Make sure you invite that reporter you spurned," Crouch told the Minister. "You really screwed the crup with that one. Reporters are always a problem, especially when they are honest."

Both men nodded in agreement, then Crouch left the Minister's office.