Chapter Twelve: Trials and Truths - Part One

"I don't like this."

"It'll be fine."

"And what if it's not?"

"But it will be. It's going to be. It has to be."

Chattering filled the silence left by the two onlookers. The whole room buzzed with excitement, a perverse kind of joy seemed to radiate from the crowd, while this small section of onlookers simply waited. Then, quite suddenly, a large bell rang and silence descended on the hall. It was a huge semi-circle, with one large, straight-backed chair in the middle of the room. Around it stood tiered seating, filled with the now silent crowd. Watching. Waiting.

Then a voice called out, loud and clear. "The trial will now begin."

oOo

"You want me to do what?" Sirius asked, his mouth almost hanging open in a rather morbidly comic fashion. If they could see any more of the kitchen, Daphne imagined it wouldn't look so strange. Yet from the perspective of the tiny mirror, Sirius' face was the only thing they could see. It would've been funny if it wasn't so, well, serious.

"It's just an idea," Daphne said, trying to back peddle, but Harry intervened.

"No, it's not. Sirius, we're talking about getting you free. Actually, properly free. Daphne's dad thinks we can do this if we play right. It's not like Fudge is still Minister and Malfoy's cronies are all under investigation, it's not like they can do anything."

"Apart from spending a wagon full of galleons to get people to vote their way."

"That's the thing, their accounts are still locked, right? We've got, what did your dad say, a few weeks?" Daphne nodded. "Yeah, so, while they can't do anything we've got a chance."

"Harry, we're talking about Azkaban here. I can't -"

"You won't. Just talk to Matthias, please, Sirius."

There was a frown, seemingly the idea of rejection and then finally a sigh. "Okay, I'll talk to him, I'm not promising anything though."

"Dad won't make you do anything," Daphne added, trying her best to sound helpful while ignoring the twisting feeling in her stomach. The Wizemgamot didn't exactly have a track record of playing by the rules. When her father had told her his plan she hadn't been convinced. If anything, she'd remembered shouting. A lot of shouting, the kind it would've been hard to take back if he was anyone but her father.

It had been a frosty last few days at Greengrass Manor and not just because of the weather. They'd eventually started talking again but it hadn't been easy. This wasn't supposed to be though, Sirius' life could be at risk. She had expected Harry to share her reservations, but instead, her boyfriend had excitedly insisted on telling Sirius, which is what led to them in the Room of Requirement using his dad's old mirror to tell his godfather to put his life in their hands.

"You know this might not work," Daphne said gently when they'd bade Sirius goodbye.

"I know, but it's a chance. He hates that place. It's like he's still in Azkaban."

"But he's not."

"Try telling him that." Harry's tone wasn't angry, it was sad. "You didn't see him, Daph. When we were leaving, he just shut himself off. By the end, we barely saw him. It's not fair."

"I know." She wished there was something she could do. Something other than this. Something other than taking the biggest risk of her life on a half-baked idea that she wasn't even sure would work. All she could manage was holding his hand and praying that whatever her father was going to suggest, it would actually work.

She missed Christmas. Things had been easy then.

Even the Defence Club was having issues. Parkinson hadn't shown up since they'd been back and rumours were floating around that her father had been involved. Naturally, whenever Daphne awoke or slept the girl was never there. In classes, she'd be the first one out. It was strange and had Daphne not had more on her mind she'd have forced Parkinson to talk to her. As it was a few days of being given the slip, combined with the distraction of Sirius, pushed the issue out of her mind.

Blaise had filled her place, which was weird in itself. He and Tracey were, if not talking, then at least civil. Tracey had mysteriously not been partnered up with the Slytherin prefect in the first session, but something about her prowling demeanour suggested to Daphne that her friend would rather like the opportunity.

"You okay?" Daphne had asked when they were paired together. Harry was trying to get them to learn how to do Patronuses, conveniently without the gut-wrenching pressure of a real-life Dementor to deal with.

"Yeah, fine. Just fine as can be. It's totally okay that he's here. Why wouldn't it be?"

"You wanna hex him, don't you?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." An evil grin twisted her mouth. "No, it's fine. I'm fine. New year, right? Forgive, forget, all that crap."

"You sound like me."

"And you're having the best time with flipping Mr Darcey over there, maybe you've got the right idea," Tracey had pointed out. "Sorry, mum and dad were watching a lot of Jane Austin. It was weird. Like, yeah, let's put the heartbroken girl in front of all these emotionally-stunted man-children and swoon while she cries, that'll work."

"You cried?"

"Tell anyone and I'll jinx you so badly Pomfrey won't figure out what it was for a week."

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. You don't do sorry. You do bad advice and worse wisdom. We don't do that. We do whinging and jokes and bitching and - we're not sorry people."

Making a mental note to avoid pity, Daphne had smiled and cast her gaze around the room. "Then let's find you someone else."

"Oh, no. Don't you dare! No, Daph!" Their fake fight and laughter had distracted one or two of the other Club members, some far too new to really appreciate Slytherins who did anything but glare at them. Harry had reprimanded them, which to Daphne was like being scolded by a teddy bear, and the two had been given new partners. Daphne had gotten Hermione and Neville partnered up with Tracey, a fact that Daphne had then teased Tracey about endlessly. He was sweet and more confident these days, but apparently interested in someone else. It didn't take a genius to realise who, although apparently, the other Gryffindor prefect was oblivious to it.

That was her life should've been. And it was sometimes, but other times it was anything but.

oOo

Harry had never been so nervous. He'd faced dragons, fought Voldemort and even killed a basilisk. He was used to life-or-death situations, the trouble was, it was usually only his own life he had to worry about. Somehow, being entrusted with someone else's was far more terrifying.

The faint pop of their arrival at Greengrass Manor cut through the still winter afternoon. Sirius dropped the portkey, an old gardening glove that had somehow been burned with acid, on the ground. Beside him, Daphne was chewing her lip and picking at the end of her fingers with her nails. Harry had always thought Slytherins were supposed to be masked, emotionless people, yet he could always read Daphne like a book. Perhaps, she simply only let him see it.

The final member of their party was an incredibly dishevelled but calming Remus Lupin. He was the first to move, resting his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"We can go home," the werewolf said gently.

Sirius shook her head, took a deep breath and then led the way up the path. They were greeted, as normal, by Matthias' wild garden. Plants writhed and fought one another for space, quite literally, and the enchanted beech trees waved happily in the wind as ever. Harry had always loved the garden, it seemed so vibrant and filled with life but as he walked with Sirius he noticed the dead plants, those claimed by winter or their fellow flora, and suddenly it was more akin to a graveyard than a horticultural marvel.

He felt Daphne take his hand and for the first time since they'd agreed to do this, he was starting to feel the trepidation he knew had claimed her from the very beginning. No, he wasn't going to let that voice win. He couldn't let it because if it did, if he thought there was no chance for Sirius then… He stopped himself, trying not to fall into the pit of darkness that had claimed him so much already over Christmas. This wasn't about the prophecy, this was about Sirius. Sirius' life. Sirius' future. Wasn't it?

Matthias greeted them at the door. Instead of gardening clothes, stained with mud, he wore crisp robes of the kind Harry hadn't even been aware he owned. His beard was neatly trimmed and instead of smiling, his face was set. Standing before them wasn't the father of his girlfriend, but the head of an Ancient and Noble House.

"Lord Black," he said formally, giving Sirius a curt nod. "Mr Lupin. Welcome to my home."

"Lord Greengrass."

This was not what Harry had been expecting.

"I am going to have to ask you to surrender your wand," Matthias continued.

"Dad!"

"No, it's alright," Sirius said calmly, withdrawing his wand from the confines of the dark black robes he'd dug up from his wardrobe. They were battered and according to Daphne completely outdated, even though Harry could've sworn they looked exactly like any other kind of robe he'd ever seen. "We all have to take precautions, isn't that right, Lord Greengrass?"

Matthias nodded, as though he hadn't expected this to go so well. "If you'll follow me."

It was a strange sensation, walking through the halls of a manor that had become a second home to Harry with the godfather he'd never dreamed would ever be able to see the Greengrasses. He imagined this was what introducing parents to one another was like, only with the added pressure of a murder trial.

Beside him, he could practically feel the outrage radiating from Daphne. Her family weren't traditional, they laughed in the face of tradition and wildly ignored it whenever they could. Her father certainly wasn't the kind of man not to trust her word. He'd accepted Harry into his home, rescued him from a summer with his aunt and uncle and even taken his story about Voldemort for nothing but fact. Yet here he was, not trusting them.

The office was exactly what Harry had expected, a shrine to Quidditch. There were famous players looking down at them, some on broomsticks, others waving from pitchside interviews. Here, Matthias wasn't the embarrassing father Daphne had described to him, or the kind man he'd come to know, here Matthias was the owner of a Quidditch team.

Behind the desk sat Aurora, dressed equally as formally as her husband in emerald green robes that perfectly matched her House's shade of green. It complemented her slightly tanned skin and unlike her husband, her smile was warm, welcoming even.

"Please, take a seat." Four chairs magically appeared, straight-backed and wooden, much like Matthias himself. Sirius faltered for a moment and only when Lupin sat, did the Head of House Black take his seat.

"Allow me to introduce my wife," Matthias said stiffly. "Aurora, Lord Sirius Black and Remus Lupin."

"You don't have to call me Lord Black," Sirius told him.

"No, I guess not," Matthias considered himself. "I trust that Harry has informed you of our intentions?"

"To put me on trial."

"We prefer to think of it as giving you the trial you deserve," Aurora said gently.

"You're not the one facing the Kiss if this goes wrong." Harry couldn't blame Sirius for being bullish, they were talking about his life. "So excuse me if I'm not thrilled about this."

"We have an opportunity to correct what was done to you. Please, for the moment, allow us to explain."

"If at any time you wish to leave," Matthias added, continuing from his wife. "You can do so. You aren't my prisoner. We aren't going to make you do anything you don't want to. We, that is to I, erm, well," he faltered. "Yes. The beginning. Recently Harry informed me of your… predicament. I believed him, after all, why would Harry lie?

"Yet, I am legally required to tell the Ministry that I know about you. I won't, of course. It's just, I spoke to the Minister. She's an old friend, it's quite a funny story -" He stopped himself when he saw how visibility furious Sirius was. "Sorry. Where was I? Ah yes, the Minister. She doesn't know anything. I wouldn't do that. But it got me thinking. What if we did tell them? What if we changed the playing field?"

"This isn't a game."

"No, it's not. But the rules are kind of the same. I guess I'm not really making a lot of sense?" The facade that he'd put up was crumbling with every second. Nerves were clearly getting the better of him, but fortunately, Aurora stepped in.

"We're talking about giving you a chance to get your story out. The law is quite clear. There is no ongoing trial, you were convicted and as such anything you wish to say isn't interfering with an ongoing investigation.

"We suggest a combined effort, first an interview where you tell your side of the story and then demand a trial."

"Like you did with Harry?"

"Yes, exactly the same. You have witnesses who have seen Peter Pettigrew alive, do you not? If Mr Pettigrew lives, then this will be enough to warrant an entirely new investigation, one not mared by the issue of war."

"Peter's a Death Eater."

"Worm," Sirius bit out angrily.

"And so finding him will be rather difficult," Lupin continued.

"Isn't that what your little club is for?"

Lupin offered a thin lipped smile to Matthias' question. It was not one the Greengrass patriarch returned. "He is kept out reach, I'm afraid."

Matthias made a noise that Uncle Vernon would've been proud of, but thankfully Aurora interjected before Sirius could blow his last fuse.

"Gentlemen, please. Whether we can find Mr. Pettigrew or not is unimportant. We simply need to demonstrate the other story, the truth. You were convincted upon circumstantial evidence at best, Mr. Black. Once the world is aware of what truly happened, they will need proof to send you back to Azkaban, proof that, according to you, simply doesn't exist."

"Because I didn't kill them."

"Precisely."

Sirius leant forwards, his elbows pressed against his thighs, dark eyes flitting between the two Greengrasses. "And why should I trust you? What's to stop you just turning me over, you said yourself, that's the Minister wants you to do."

"If they wanted to arrest you'd have been carted off already," Daphne said before either of her parents could speak.

"Daphne has a good point," Matthias nodded. "Blunt, but good. Tell you what, how about we give you a minute? To talk it over?"

"Remus'll go with you."

"Very well," Matthias conceded. Daphne was the final one to go, rather unsurprisingly. She had a habit of that. Going where she shouldn't. It had led her to Harry after all.

That left godfather and godson alone in the office. The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, orange shafts of light cutting through the room. Neither of them said anything for a moment as Sirius moved to the desk, resting both hands against the dark. Nothing but the sound of his drumming fingers filled the office, until, finally, he turned to look at Harry.

"What do you think?"

"I wanted you to go for it," Harry admitted.

"Wanted?"

"I still do. You're not wrong. It's dangerous. If it works, if you're free, we could do anything. You could do anything you wanted to."

"And if it doesn't I wind up in Azkaban."

"But it's not the same Ministry, is it? They're not the ones that locked you up before."

"Some of them might as well be," Sirius glared. "But you trust them?"

"Yeah, they're not bad people, Sirius."

"If only my mother could see you. She'd tell you that they want me to arrested, that all they're after is your fortune, your stature and even mine. Don't look at me like that, who else do you think I'm going to give the Black name to?"

"Me?"

"It's the least I can do," Sirius said simply, "but that's not the point. The point is people like my mother would be using this as a way to get you in their pocket. Once I'm locked up but they tried to do their best, you fall into their laps."

"But they're not like that."

"I'd have said the same about Peter. Look where that got me. Twelve years." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Slumped against the desk as he was, Harry felt as though their roles were suddenly reversed. That he was the godfather and Sirius his errant godson, heading to the Headmaster's office for a slap on the wrists.

"Not everyone is Pettigrew, Sirius. And they don't need money or anything. Look at this place."

"The Greengrasses are new money, by pureblood terms. They only got rich a few hundred years ago. A Potter in the family is just what they need."

"They always said to Daph that she could choose whoever she wanted, that they'd love her whatever she does. It's not their fault she asked me out, Sirius."

"Yet they spent the entire summer looking after you, a summer they very publicly sided with you against Voldemort. They're not just sitting idly by and this fell into their lap. They came looking for it."

"To help."

"Or to get you. Would you do it? Would you trust them if you were me? Would you take this chance?"

Harry thought about Privet Drive, about the years he'd been desperate to escape, the countless days that he'd sat in his cupboard hoping that there was someone out there coming to take him away from the family that couldn't possibly be his. That his parents hadn't really died, that they'd be there, that everything would be okay.

If someone had told him then that his life would lead where it had, that he would have to face a Dark Lord so powerful people couldn't even say his name, would he have stepped out of the cupboard?

"Yeah, yeah, I would."

"Even if that could mean losing you? I already managed it once, Harry. I can't do it again."

"You hate that place."

"Not enough."

Harry moved from his chair, so that he was face to face with his godfather. "Do you remember what you said, when we were taking Pettigrew to Dumbledore?"

"I offered you a different home."

"I don't think I'd ever been that happy," Harry admitted. "Not really, I always thought Hogwarts was home, but it's not. It's the best I've got and that's fine, but when you said I could live with you. I don't know. It was just what I'd always wanted. I can't tell you to do this, Sirius, but I can promise I'd give you a different home too."

oOo

"Hearing of the fourth of February."

Minister Bones' loud voice rang out across the silent hall. Harry, sat between Lupin and Daphne, watched as she regarded Sirius through her monocle. In front of him were Ron and Hermione and, rather distrubingly, next to them sat Snape. Not for the first time in his life, Harry wished he could jinx his Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

"Into historical offences believed to be committed by Sirius Black, namely two counts of murder, thirteen counts of manslaughter and breaches of the International Statute of Secrecy by one Sirius Black," there was a great murmuring at this point, silenced through sheer willpower by Minister Bones. "By Sirius Black on the thirty-first of October in Godric's Hollow.

"Interrogators, Amelia Bones, Minister for Magic and Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Court scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley. Witness for the Defence, you may present yourself."

"Ablus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," Professor Dumbledore declared to the assembled Wizengamot. He'd been Sirius' stipulation, the one safety net that he refused to let go of. He might trust Harry, he'd even grown to like Matthias and Aurora, but he couldn't let them protect him from Azkaban. He needed someone he trusted and despite everything he trusted Dumbledore implicitly.

The charges were read, they made for grim reading. Throughout it, Sirius's face remained stoic, despite the clamps on his wrists and feet, despite the mass of onlookers, he just stared straight ahead. Daphne, on orders from Astoria who had been afronted at not being involved once the article had been published, had told him to get new robes. So instead of battered relics, he looked every bit like the head of a pureblood family.

"You are Sirius Black," Minister Bones said once the charges had been read.

"Yes."

"And it is your claim, Mr Black, that it was not you who conducted the charges that you have heard today, but they were completed by another?"

"Yes."

"Could you share with the Wizemgamot who that person is?"

"Peter Pettigrew." That inspired another round of excited whispering from the onlookers. The clamp that had been tightening in Harry's chest felt as though it were squeezing his heart to bursting point. It was one thing reading what Sirius had said in the Prophet (whose stocks had rocketed as a result), it was quite another seeing people react to it. A witch on the front row was rolling her eyes, another man was visibly laughing, but there were a few opposite Harry who were frowning.

"Who you claim is alive?"

"Yes."

"We have witnesses to Mr Pettigrew's survival," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Kids," snorted the man who Minister Bones had said was called Scrimgeour. His tawny hair was streaked with grey and beneath bushy eyebrow, keen yellow eyes looked out from behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. "And a werewolf."

"They are witnesses nevertheless." Dumbledore spoke as if they were discussing nothing more than a passing cloud.

"Their age is irrelevant," Minister Bones decided with a finality that indicated anyone who argued was a moron. "But before we move on to witnesses, I wish to hear what happened Mr Black. From the beginning."

"James and Lily were hiding from Voldemort. They'd already fought him a few times. Harry changed things. They needed protection. James wanted my help, he said I should be their secret keeper."

"Which you were." Scrimgeour's voice was cool, even somehow bored.

"That's what we wanted people to think. Everyone knew James would ask me. Voldemort would've come looking for me. There was a spy, we knew that. Someone was feeding him information. So I thought we should use someone else, someone Voldemort wouldn't think of as a threat.

"I wish it had been me. I'd have died, I'd have died rather than betray them. But I made a mistake. I trusted the wrong person."

"And did you have suspicions on who this spy was?"

Sirius faltered. Almost everyone in the hall seemed to lean forwards. A quiet hush had fallen over them now, they wanted to hear the story. Aurora had told Sirius to deliberately leave the details out, so as to not affect the trial. The article had simply said Peter was alive and that he had betrayed Harry's parents. That was it. They'd never heard this.

"Mr Black."

"Remus Lupin," Sirius admitted finally. Beside Harry, Lupin stiffened. It wasn't something either of them ever really talked about, but at Harry's inquisitive glance Lupin only shook his head.

"The same Remus Lupin you expect us to hear testimony from later today?" Scrimgeour laughed.

"As I said, I made a mistake. If I could take it back, I would. We were at war, we didn't know who to trust. That's how Voldemort operated, it's why people like Malfoy can -"

"Mr Malfoy is not the subject of this inquiry," Minister Bones said curltly. "As you are aware the Ministry is conducting an ongoing investigation into all suspected Death Eater's named by Harry Potter. Unless you have evidence that can support these allegations, this court asks that you keep your testimony within the confines of this investigation."

"Our apologies, Minister," Dumbledore smiled serenly.

"I cast the charm," Sirius continued. "I was the only other person outside of James, Lily and Peter who knew we'd even made a switch. That way they were safe, or at least, they should've been."

"Tell us what happened next?"

"We set up a hiding place for Peter. I checked in on him every day to make sure Voldemort hadn't found him. The last time, the day James and Lily… He wasn't there, but there were no signs of a struggle. It wasn't right. Peter was always there. He'd never have left unless… Unless he'd made another deal.

"I knew something was wrong, so I went to warn them. When I found them, I knew what'd happened, what I'd done." He told them how he'd found Pettigrew, how when he'd arrived Pettigrew had started shouting how Sirius had betrayed Lily and James. The rest was as bleak as Harry remembered from the Shrieking Shack.

Daphne, who had never heard any of this, sat beside him in stunned silence. She had only been told the edited version, the one Harry had known Sirius wouldn't mind him sharing. The details of how he'd found Harry's parents, how he'd cornered Pettigrew, how it had felt being trapped in Azkaban for all that time, all of it had been left out. Yet there it was, being aired in front of hundreds and strangers and soon millions of Prophet readers.

Minister Bones then took him through his escape from Azkaban, the reason he waited twelve years and what had motivated him to do so. Sirius answered, with a few interruptions from his interrogators and supporting statements from Dumbledore. All the while the onlookers watched intently, the laughing was gone, replaced instead by a sense of morbid fascination. It was impossible to tell if they believed him or not.

"I believe we've heard enough, thank you, Mr Black. Professor Dumbledore, you may call your first witness."