The very next morning Hermione sat at a table, but the lavish food and tea hadn't been touched. Her entire attention stuck on the Daily Prophet laying open before her. It's front page had two large moving pictures.
The left a profile of Sirius Black looking straight at the camera. Hair combed to the side, strands hanging over eyes as grey and cold as granite. His pitch robes darker than the gleaming stone around him. Sirius Black looked like a mass murderer who'd just gone free, in robes more expensive than most people's monthly rent. It wasn't at all friendly. The right photo showed Harry Potter in his school robes. The image's edges wispy and blurred, indicating the image had been taken from some student's memory. Hermione recognized the dueling stage from second year. In this image Harry stood atop it and his mouth moved in slow motions as he hissed at a snake. The background showed a wide eyed blonde Malfoy who was lowering his wand in shock. Above both pictures the headlines blared, "Black Pardoned, Harry Potter Absorbed Part of the Dark Lord."
"In a shocking turn of events yesterday's Wizengamot trial revealed Peter Pettigrew let He Who Must Not Be Named into Potter cottage that fateful night October 31, 1981. Not only did he witness the murder (see snapshots from Pettigrew's memories Page 4), but he then framed Lord Sirius Black of the Most Ancient and Noble House. He also witnessed what experts now believe to be the mechanism of immortality used by He Who Must Not Be Named. What we're told is a soul shard is now believed to reside inside Mr. Harry Potter, schoolboy delinquent, Parselmouth, and the very same student who is recorded in Hogwarts school records for the murder of Professor Quirinus Quirrell a possession victim (see article below)."
Athurius Greengrass, expert on dark artifacts and disposal, states, "There is no doubt Harry Potter is a horcrux. For those questioning whether or not that was a splitting soul we saw, which it was, let me remind them neither of Potter's parents were related to the Slytherin line who are the only known carriers of the Parselmouth trait in Europe. He's a horcrux. Now the only question is what we'll do with him. The only known method to rid the world of a soul shard is to destroy its container, but would you feel right terminating his life and destroying his body? I know everyone's scared, but can we sentence a teenage boy to death over a condition he had no consent or control over? My advice, don't panic. It's already been over a decade and the boy seems stable."
The article went on to interview several other magical experts who dissected everything that transpired in Pettigrew's memories. The word horcrux came up again and again. The next article questioned, "Is Potter Really Stable? School Records Pulled by Governors for Review."
Hermione pushed the paper aside, unintentionally pushing her empty plate and sparkling silverware with it. The sound drew the attention of the man across from her. Sirius Black's eyes were hooded. A fist mark was forming into a bruise on the side of his jaw. They'd gotten to Privet Drive in Surrey, but so had a few others. Before it was over, the aurors and obliviators were called, and they'd been through a fight.
Sirius met her gaze across the table. He hadn't touched a thing either. They'd just gotten in. It'd been a long night.
The upper levels of the Ministry looked positively calm compared to the chaos of the courtroom they'd left behind. On the way up Sirius stopped stomping, although the wild look still lingered, his eyes bright, his shoulders taunt, his hand gripping hers so hard even his relatively short nails dug in deep. If Hermione wasn't gripping back so hard she probably would have noticed the pain, but just then her whole experience felt numb. Her brain beaming a kilometer a minute tracking all the steps they'd need to take in the coming muddy road full of holes and slippery slopes. As if in response, her magic mingled with Sirius', tingling down her entire arm and sparking the ends of her hair. The magic wafting off the man next to her swished and roiled, coating her and everyone in the vicinity. The beast inside her chest gripped its claws deep, marking that space it claimed as its own. Sirius turned on the lead Lawyer, his commanding tone barely polite.
"MacKenzie, would your staff be able to arrange adoption papers?"
The lawyer and all of his "littler" lawyers stopped next to the golden floo fireplaces. The Ministry atrium bustled with its evening traffic, people passing around them before they threw powder into flames and disappeared into the transportation network. MacKenzie looked at one of his littler lawyers, who nodded and murmured some details.
Douglas MacKenzie turned with confidence, "Allowing a consultation with the previous guardian and the child in question, yes we could do that. I assume you're speaking of your godson."
"Would you be able to meet with them and us tonight? I can give you a time and the address."
That was part one of Hermione's hastily thrown together plan. Part two however had just been hashed out in a hushed conversation with her guardian, the brilliant man not only picked up on her intentions but expounded upon them with a number of solid suggestions. Hermione loved smart people. She never had to over explain or break down each individual step, they were capable of taking leaps in logic with the same starting data and coming to similar conclusions. In the time it took them to ride the lifts and get through the crowd to this relatively empty floo exit, Flitwick and her had a good idea of who to ask, where they could be found, and what they might need in bargain for their help.
MacKenzie, subjected to the full thing much abridged, he'd added a few points and insisted on accompanying to the Goblins. Stating, "If there's a reasonable proof of danger for the boy staying in his current location, or if he has a condition the current guardians cannot provide for, this will be easier to submit to Magical Child Services. Pending the willing agreement of all parties."
With his people sent off to get themselves dinner and to meet later it was a much smaller group stepping through the floo. After Flitwick corrected her pronunciation she scraped out the sharp sounding name of a conclave. Hermione was the first through the floo. The moment the powder had been thrown and the Gobbledygook out of her mouth the Ministry's atrium disappeared.
Replaced by the green glowing fires of a massive forge. She stepped out, hearing the others come through behind her but too occupied with the place they'd been sent. The workmen's fire they stepped through bordered with racks upon racks of meticulously sized and organized tools. Three long workbenches and anvils of different shapes stretched in front, a ready and waiting workspace. She turned around only to find the fire remained green and burning hotter than was natural. Flitwick saw her looking.
"Goblin forge. They always put them in the center of the residences, the most defensible building, harder to escape, and harder for thieves to sneak into without knowing the floo pass phrase."
"And if they do know the pass phrase but aren't welcome?" Sirius murmured. His eyes had lost their wild look and his question not the least bit foggy. He stood rigid, on edge as if expecting theirs wouldn't be welcome.
Flitwick gave a sharp smile before stepping forwards, greeting who Hermione soon came to learn was this conclave's master metalworker. The man walking towards them with battle axe and runes activating around their group. Hermione only recognized a few of the symbols, but the intention of "burn to the bone" was clear enough. She stepped closer to Sirius and they both stayed well within the circle. The modern Goblins, according to one of Flitwick's books, had moved beyond weapon smithing and into design of priceless artifacts and curse breaking. The paradigm shift occurred some 400 years ago, now as a culture they had some of the best crafters and breakers of the oldest charms and curses. Cursed objects in particular were a specialty and is the exact reason they'd been welcomed in every magical country globally, contracted in order to assist with curse breaking and protection charms.
The small group of wizards didn't see much of the conclave, though what Hermione did glance was impressive. Huge stone and metalwork art interlaced the sides of buildings and delved deep into the side of a mountain. Their gardens and protections stretched far into the tall forest and she thought she saw a nymph before they'd been ushered into a consultation building.
Hermione found herself incredibly amused as she was escorted in by a Lord, a lawyer, and a half Goblin. In a specialists conclave that was decidedly not the bank in Diagon Alley, where all of her wizarding friends seemed to think the Goblins actually lived. Clearly, the bank was a front and she wondered if the wizards failed to beat down three different Goblin rebellions because they'd been attacking the wrong place. Before business could start every wizard present, including Flitwick, had to sign a secrecy and non-disclosure agreement. It wound together words and contingencies so tight Hermione knew she'd never be able to share the joke with her friends. Though she couldn't blame the Goblins for their precautions.
The next hour passed fast. Sirius paid a curse breaker and healer. On the Goblin's advice another dark curse healer was requested from St. Mungos via owl. Hermione watched the owl fly off into the summer sky. It was now 20:30, but still sunny.
When Sirius apparated her to Privet Drive and left her standing alone in the Dursley's driveway Hermione felt like a displaced fantasy creature. Her long robes pooled on the cement, their runes keeping them always floating half a centimeter above the grime and dirt. Where once she'd have felt at home in a suburb now she felt like the oddity which didn't belong. An even starker distinction when Sirius arrived a moment later in his matching dark robes. Beside him the lawyer and dueling champion looked equally like they'd just spent all day at a Magical meeting watching projected memories on misty walls. Hermione realized she belonged with them.
Her guardian glanced from Sirius to the house. His mind working through several interesting things by the way he surveyed the house wards and poked them with a finger. Hermione saw his magic mingling with them, prying them open to take a look.
"Of all of us only Lord Black, the recent convict, knew where the Boy Who Lived has been hidden." Flitwick's tone sardonic, "I really thought better of Albus."
Hermione's face twisted with the notion. It was at once hilarious, exasperating, and depressing considering he really might have been a convict out to kill a kid with a possibly incurable condition. A condition the man had known about. Had done nothing about. Instead of dealing with it, Albus had locked it away in a muggle neighborhood with people who despised the boy carrying a bit of Voldemort's soul. Consequently keeping the sociopath alive and enabled to act again. Harry might have been a berk sometimes but he was the victim of a series of malicious actions.
Hermione just spent an hour listening to a Goblin expert talk about how nasty horcruxes could get and it was now irrefutably the opinion of an expert that being host of a soul shard would bring out berkish tendencies in anyone. Hermione who lately felt more like his older sister than a friend of his same stature, same height be damned, suddenly had reason for all the times she'd protected him. From their talk with the curse breaker she now had new vile examples of what would happen if the possibly incurable condition continued. The man then hastened to assuaging the group, promised to head over as soon as possible to the official Manor of the Black family Head of House. Though before they could look more into that they had to deal with Harry's unpleasant occupation in Privet Drive.
Sirius knocked. There was a shout inside. Harry looking worn, sunburned, and dirty opened the door. His eyes widened at the face of Sirius Black, easily recognizable after the dozens of Daily Prophet articles run on the man. Harry quickly moved back. Hermione stepped between them, "Harry he's been exonerated." Her gaze flicked from him to the emerging form of a skinny woman and back to her first friend, "The DMLE and the police are no longer looking for him."
Petunia's waspish voice came from the entry hall, "You. I remember you. At Lily's wedding making a fool of yourself with her drunk of a husband. He got so drunk he couldn't even stand for the final dance."
Sirius looked down at her, at once tired and exasperated, "It was a party Petunia. People drink at parties."
"You're his godfather right?" She talked right over Harry's head as if he weren't standing there. "Out of prison now so you can take the boy."
Petunia opened the door, which Harry had tried to close in Sirius' face, and dragged her nephew out. She all but tossed him in Sirius' direction. Harry rightfully looked alarmed and Hermione vaguely recalled that during their school year she'd only told Harry the man'd never received a trial. While Flitwick and the Lawyer tried to explain to Petunia she couldn't just dump the boy, and calm her down from shouting about freaks, Hermione unwound her fingers from Sirius. It hurt a bit and she started bleeding again, but the way Harry was looking at the man she knew she needed to explain.
"Harry, I promise I will tell you the whole story later. But they got Pettigrew. He was still alive and hiding. I was just at the trial. Pettigrew was the one who sold your parents out. He framed Sirius. The DMLE confirmed it in front of the Wizengamot. Harry, Sirius says he's your Godfather. He says you can move in if you want. He'll just need to see a few healers, but I've been talking with him and he's magnitudes better than your aunt and uncle."
Harry opened his mouth, then closed it, looking between them. His face shifting through fear, anger, suspicion, sorrow, and landing on something troubled. He was still wearing the too big clothes which Hermione knew to be his cousin's cast offs. They were still covered in dirt and greens from the gardening he'd done earlier.
She finished, her voice quiet and sincere, "I think you could be happy with him. And I'll visit as much or as little as you want."
He looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since last summer. Maybe it was the clothes or how her hair had been spun and pinned up, containing most of the curls. Or the makeup charm which by now was fading with the afternoon.
"You look older."
She nodded, "I signed a magical contract which states I can't talk about it for frivolous or unfound reasons. Precluding risk of exposure or someone's possible injury or death." She rattled verbatim the contract she'd signed when the ministry authorized the time turner. She'd exposed it to Sirius because a bunch of 7th year students finding him could have led to his injury and death. "Harry if you really want to know what I've been doing all year I can look to see if there's a way to tell you. It won't be happening again next year. I'm dropping muggle studies."
He grinned, "As terrible as Divination?"
The shift threw her, and it startled a laugh out of her for how true it was.
"Possibly worse. At least Trelawney was trained by her grandmother. Charity Burbage is a pureblood and clearly never spent much time ruffing it in public transportation or using telephones."
He smirked and hugged her again. "I'm sorry we're not as close anymore."
"Me too. But we'll always be mates ya?"
"Of course."
"So stay with my godfather..."
He didn't sound as opposed now, mostly just blank as if some strong barrier blocked his true emotion and feeling over the situation from coming out. Hermione wondered how often Harry had things decided for him from people who just ordered his compliance. She squeezed him and stepped back. She tilted her head so he'd look in Sirius' direction. The man seemed torn between helping Flitwick calm down Petunia and dragging them all out of there.
"He's a good guy. I think you'd be happy as his ward. If you went with him and Petunia signed a few forms then no one could ever make you come back here. The lawyer team," she waved at the very much wizards in wizard robes now walking down the street with the most peculiar mix of shock and curiosity as they entered the muggle neighborhood. Who Harry and Hermione were now staring at as they'd apparated en masse at the end of the street as Sirius directed and were now flocking towards number 4.
Hermione looked back and a bit of humor still seeped into the words, "Well you have a team of them now. If you want to live with Sirius they'll have everything submitted to the Ministry, fight whatever reasons Dumbledore might have been keeping you here. It's... It doesn't look too good for Dumbledore right now. He's done some questionable things. I think the DMLE is going to pull him in for an interview if nothing else." Actions which culminated that Halloween night and dumping an injured toddler on a doorstep. Her thoughts reflected Petunia Dursley's next shrill and loud, very loud, point.
"...On my doorstep all night with a bleeding wound, sitting next to the morning paper and just waiting for the milkman or anyone to happen along...With only a letter... When he told us we had to..."
Oh yes, the details of that were now being yelled in the lawyer's face. The rest of MacKenzie's team shuffled behind looking like they wanted to help, but hadn't been given the go ahead and it looked like they wouldn't get to for another few minutes. Petunia Dursley had a lot of feelings she'd let build up over the years and they were coming out now right here on her front doorstep.
"The neighbors be damned!" She screeched when Flitwick mentioned they had an audience.
"We haven't been able to move for years from this dump because of that old man and his damn wards." Now she was breathing heavy and she stated, "I know I haven't loved him as much as Lily would, but he should go to people who can. Lily wanted that."
Flitwick made a well timed deflection towards the boy in question. Hermione suddenly remembered he'd had to watch one of his favorite students murdered not two hours ago. He looked like the kind veneer was peeling away to something snappish.
"Mr. Potter, would you like to be the ward of your Godfather Sirius Black? He's innocent of all his charges and if you agree we can take you to your new home tonight."
Harry looked like a deer in headlights. The sheer fact someone would listen to his opinion on the matter seemed to astound him into silence. Hermione nudged him forwards.
"Sure. That's fine."
He looked a bit lost and Hermione was increasingly worried that he didn't seem to care much where he was going, just so long as it wasn't the Dursleys.
This snapped the rest of their tag alongs into action. There amidst the prize winning roses the lawyer team started writing up a switch of guardian papers. Magical of course, but someone had a while ago cast a notice-me-not and they'd lost the audience.
Sirius clipped the boy's shoulder, steering him inside. "Hermione and I will help you pack."
He showed them to the cupboard under the stairs and shuffled oddly.
"Harry?"
"My trunk's locked in there."
It was as Sirius waved a silent and lazy alohomora, as she saw the child sized mattress behind the trunk, the crayon drawing in the corners just out of plain sight, the few broken soldier toys. That she began to understand for a kid who'd had nothing but this, a broomstick even from a stranger might mean everything. Oh Harry. She wished she would have thought of a way to take him away years ago.
Sirius' hand had found hers again. This time she clenched it back just as tight.
It was then, when they'd shrunken Harry's things and Sirius carried them out of the front door, that cracks shot off in the street sounding like new years firecrackers. Flitwick's hand shot up so fast, the incoming spell fire of multicolored hexes splashed in a beautiful, chaotic mess on the huge shield.
Sirius ordered, "Take Harry and Petunia and get back inside."
Hermione rushed forwards to a wide eyed Mrs. Dursley and bodily grabbed her up, a funny sight as she was more than a head shorter than her, but levitation spells made any weight or shape easier to maneuver. The woman, once in the house and shuffled behind a wall, popped her head to look out the window and positively shrieked. The notice-me-not spells wouldn't cover this and Hermione was glad as spells bouncing off the shield went wide. Yells and shouts of fear could be heard from the neighbors running back inside. Shouts about ringing the police.
The neighbors' car was blown up from a ricocheting curse. The group of wizards looked normal, like any other group of wizards. They dressed no different than people who might be seen walking down Diagon Alley. Hermione watched as they pushed forwards. Their attacks getting stronger and more aggressive. They'd began to rush the house only to stumble back as Flitwick shoved them with a single push of his other hand. As if smacked by an invisible giant the entire group of them flew. It was an opening Sirius had been waiting for. He dashed forwards. The ex-auror's moves quick and rusty, but born of practice hundreds of times, he went to body bind one after the other. One attempting first an expelliarmus and then a lunge forward in an attempt to run passed in the process got Sirius in the face with a hard punch. It hit with a smacking sound worthy of a muggleborn boxer.
The big muscle-of-a-man shouted, "Fuck you for following that man, fuck you for protecting him!"
Flitwick flicked a finger and the man took a flying fence post to the head, he slumped in an awkward pile of big limbs in the middle of some terrified neighbors' front porch. Sirius looked down at him, touched his jaw, then to the gaggle of lawyers hiding behind Flitwick.
When one of the lawyers looked ready to bolt Sirius strode back over and ordered, "Stay. The aurors will need your memory and statement of the event."
He seemed to have little patience at the moment. It'd been a long day. He stood in the dirt tossed front garden and shot a patronus off, "Tell Madam Bones: Harry Potter and his previous muggle guardians have been attacked at Number 4 Privet Drive in Surrey. Please send a team with Obliviators." This silvery grim circled once, then ran off faster than any physical creature would be capable of.
A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews! Since I wrote over 60K words in half a month I will take the next few chapters a bit slower. This will help me ensure each thing in the plot I've been building actually gets added (and not forgotten). :) You all are the best. Thanks for being such discerning and thoughtful readers. It's a joy having PM conversations with you all.