A/N: Hey gang! Trying to get back into the swing of posting again! Get ready for the first trial.

The morning of the trial, Sirius is woken to Abbott tapping on the bars of the cell, his Labrador Retriever Patronus standing guard behind him.

"I'll, er, give you a moment," he says, taking in the mess of letters Sirius fell asleep in last night. He'd finally opened McGonagall's letter and to his utter surprise, it wasn't a lecture, but an apology. Succinct but meaningful, it had prompted him to read every letter he'd saved up.

Hope had coursed through him, pure and protective, and he'd actually fallen asleep warm that night.

"Right, yeah, sorry," Sirius mumbles scrambling up and pocketing all the letters. The door to the cell swings open and Sirius hurries out, as if it might change its mind.

"Shall we, then?"

"Let's."

They take the portkey back to the processing office, where Abbot takes Sirius's wand, sealing it away in a long, thin, silver box. From there, they're allowed to apparate straight to the Ministry, to a holding room.

Apparition is always worse when someone else does it, and while Abbot tries to be gentle, it still feels like Sirius is being suffocated. He stumbles back when they arrive, coughing a little. Actually, this might be easier as Padfoot, but it's probably best not to do that.

"Shall we go over the plan once more?" Abbott asks, but Sirius can tell it's more for him that anyone else. This is, after all, Abbott's first Azkaban trial. Apparently, before this, he worked in magical misdemeanors and the exposure department.

"Talk me through it," Sirius says.

"Right, well, our opening statement is a brief account of your life, you house, your time at Hogwarts, and what you did after. At that time, we enter your plea as not guilty."

"Understood."

"Then the prosecution will give their opening statement, and whatever they say, you mustn't show any emotion."

"Right," Sirius mutters. That's going to be a bit difficult. He's always been impulsive and a bit proud, and without Prongs or Moony to keep him in check, he's a little worried.

"Then we go with our character witnesses, and our first piece of evidence, the lack of a mark." It wasn't the strongest piece of evidence they had, but the Wizengamot took precious little evidence into court. Only real, tangible pieces of evidence that could not be tampered with, and magic as dark and insidious as the Dark Mark cannot truly be hidden.

"Our next bit of evidence is your Auror training records, along with peer and instructor evaluations from James Potter and Frank Longbottom. You cannot—this is very important, now—react at all if the prosecution decides to throw around James and Lily Potter's names."

"Right, won't react, got that," Sirius assures him, a bit annoyed.

"Finally, we'll bring up the order of the phoenix, which will be a bit tricky—the Ministry was never fond of that group, thought them to be a militia." Abbott blanches, flashes Sirius an uneasy smile. "Well, we'll just keep that in our pockets if we need it."

At that, Sirius snorts. At best, they were a cobbled together group of young idealists who thought they could stop the war. A war, Sirius recalls, that Ministry denied ever having happened.

"Thankfully, we've got Professor Dumbledore on our side," Abbott carries on. "Him vouching for you could really turn this around."

"And the ex-Death Eaters in the Wizengamot?" Sirius asks snidely, temper already rising. He doesn't mean to be testy, but he's been cooped up too long, has been ignored and wrongfully condemned too long.

"We will not be bringing that up unless the prosecution brings it up first," Abbott says firmly. "Lucius Malfoy is a very powerful man, and we will not be crossing him."

"Who is the prosecution, anyways?" Sirius asks, swallowing down his anger at being told off.

"Er," Abbott digs through his jacket pockets, producing a small sheaf of papers. He flips through them, peering at it closely. "Dolores Umbridge. Earned her Legisparitus status a few years ago, actually, during the Dolohov trials."

"Brilliant," Sirius says dully. "Do you know what house?"

"Er, Slytherin, but best not to think about that," Abbott says. "Right, they'll be starting in a mo'"

With that, Sirius follows Abbott down a set of long, narrow hallways until they reach the first courtroom. Luckily, people are still filing in, so Abbott hurries Sirius into his seat. A couple minutes later, the entire room is full, each seat taken. Quite a few people are here, including Dumbledore, McGonagall, and to his surprise, Kingsley Shacklebolt, head of the Auror department.

"Let us begin."

"Trial of Sirius Orion Black, charged for crimes against The Ministry of Magic and siding with the enemy, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, in the form of taking the Dark Mark, commencing on the 21st of September, presided by Minister of Magic, Cornelius Oswald Fudge. Wizengamot members in full to serve as jury. Prosecution, Dolores Jane Umbridge, Legisparitus and Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. Defense, Geoffrey Fredrick Abbott, Legisparitus Emeritus."

"Defense, please begin with your opening statement."

Sirius doesn't pay too much attention while Abbott delivers the opening statement. It's stuff he's heard a thousand times, a statement he could recite word for word in his bloody sleep. He looks around carefully, keeping his expression as neutral as possible.

Most of the Wizengamot are old, people who Sirius has never seen in his life. The only member he does recognize is Malfoy, who sneers down at him. Sirius grits his teeth, clenching his fists under the table in an effort to keep calm. The one person who knew with absolute certainty that Sirius was not a Death Eater could very well condemn him to take the fall.

"Thank you, defense. Prosecution, your opening statement."

"Thank you." Dolores Umbridge is a squat, toad of a women, dressed entirely in pink and with a smile so venomous, it makes Sirius's stomach churn. "Members of the Wizengamot, it is very important to remember where Black was apprehended. Fresh from fleeing the tragic destruction of the Potter household, Aurors found him in the midst of a massacre. Thirteen muggles dead, and a young Peter Pettigrew, who foolishly rushed in to stop his friend-turned-enemy, so mangled, all that was left to send to his widowed mother was a finger. Most important of all, we mustn't forget the state in which we found him, laughing in glee at the absolute devastation he had caused. Please bear this in mind as we proceed, thank you."

Every muscle in Sirius's body is taut with rage, an anger so fierce it's actually rooting him to the spot. His breath comes in barely-there puffs, too anger to even breathe.

"Sirius," Abbott says in a low, warning tone. He nods once, a jerky bob of the head. How dare that poisonous bitch presume anything that happened that night? How dare she talk about Pettigrew?

"Thank you, defense, your first statement?"

"Thank you, Minister, I call Sirius Black to the stand." At that—as rehearsed—Sirius makes his way to the stand.

"Please state your name for the record."

"Er, Sirius Orion Black," he says, voice a little shaky. He clears his throat, repeating it.

"Wand?"

"Er, fourteen inches, willow, dragon heartstring core," Sirius recites.

"Defense, you many begin with your questions." Abbott shoots him an easy smile, one that Sirius is too tense to return.

"Mr. Black, first off, are you—or were you ever—a Death Eater?"

"No, I wasn't." Sirius reminds himself to keep an even temper, to be as neutral and calm as possible.

"How old were you when the Death Eaters first came into power?"

"Er, I was fourteen," Sirius says. "In my fourth year."

"And, what was your house?"

"Gryffindor."

"Would you say this was an uncommon occurrence for members of your family?" Sirius can't help but smile a little at that. When he'd first been sorted, lost in the euphoria of freedom and Prongs, he'd entirely forgotten how furious his entirely family would be.

They made it very clear when he came home for Christmas Break.

"Yeah, I was the first Gryffindor in the family," Sirius says.

"So, a deep departure from family values, then—"

"Objection, Abbott, we are not debating so-called house politics, nor can they be used as predictors of behavior."

"Forgive me, Minister, I only meant to point out Mr. Black's departure from his family's ideals. If you could elaborate on those ideals, Mr. Black?"

"Er, yeah," he mutters, sucking in a deep breath. He can't place why, but this question makes him uncomfortable. It's not that he wants to protect his family members—they can rot in hell, save for a few of them, but he's still strangely apprehensive.

"Right, well, my family were purists, about blood and lineage. My parents didn't, er, join the effort but they thought Volde—"

"Mr. Black!"

"Right, sorry, you-know-who," Sirius corrects himself, trying to keep the sneer out of his voice. Only cowards refused to say the name. "They thought you-know-who had the right idea."

"But you didn't?"

"Of course not," Sirius says, a touch more heatedly than he meant to. "They were trying to commit a genocide—no group of people deserve that, muggle or wizard."

"Mr. Black, earlier I had mentioned that you were part of the effort to combat what you yourself described as a genocide. Would you elaborate on that?" He's not supposed to mention the Order at all, they'd decided last minute, just talk about "voluntary work" so he does, detailing a self-made patrol system near muggle neighborhoods, leaping in to protect people from Death Eaters.

"I did what many people did," Sirius finishes. "Jumped in where I was needed. It wasn't because I had to, or anything, just because I thought it was right.

"Thank you, Mr. Black. One last question, do you bear the Dark Mark?"

"No, I don't," he says, rolling up his shirt sleeves to show the room his forearms. Abbott looks to the room triumphantly, and Sirius chances a look around. People discuss with one another, and others scribble furiously on floating pieces of parchment. Fudge looks rather like someone clubbed him over the head.

"Prosecution, you may examine the witness." Umbridge stalks forward, a strange little smile on her face.

"Mr. Black, I had a question on your willingness to call he-who-must-not-be-named by his real name," she starts, simpering up at the Wizengamot. "It's very bold of you. Elaborate, please." Sirius despises her instantly, especially the way she phrases questions as commands. He has to bite down the retort on the tip of his tongue.

"Fear of the name only increase fear of the thing itself," Sirius says, reciting one of Dumbledore's favorite platitudes. In fact, Dumbledore raises his eyebrows, inclining his head a bit. "And I am a Gryffindor, through and through."

"It does suggest a certain closeness, don't you think?"

"Not really. People who serve him call him my lord, or the dark lord. Very subservient."

"So, you'd consider yourself to be his equal then?"

"Clearly not," Sirius says. "Men like that aren't capable of thinking they have equals."

"And men like you, Mr. Black? Do you have equals?"

"Obviously," he snorts. "I have betters too, if that's what you're after." Abbott flinches, eyes squeezing shut, and Umbridge looks like she swallowed a lemon.

"Another question, then. You had mentioned that no one in your family were death eaters, but record shows otherwise. What about your cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"First off, if the scribe reads back my statements, you'll find that I didn't say that. I was referring to my parents, clearly. Secondly, some members took the whole blood purity thing straight to the deep end and joined up. That's got nothing to do with me."

"You were cousins after all, you must've been close to one another," Umbridge tries.

"I hated her, and she hated me," Sirius says. "And if we're talking about other members of my so-called family that are known to Death Eaters, shall we start with Lucius Malfoy? My cousin Narcissa's husband."

There's a hushed murmur that rips through the court room, and Malfoy, Sirius notes with satisfaction, goes absolutely ashen. Abbott drops his head into the cradle of his arms, which Sirius thinks is a touch dramatic.

"Objection!" Umbridge all but shrieks. "That charge was dropped immediately!"

"Prosecution, continue with your questions." The rest of them are cheap little jabs meant to play on Sirius's temper, but he just barely holds it in check. Watching Umbridge get angrier and angrier is pretty good incentive. By the end of the questioning, Abbott doesn't look like he's about to pitch either Sirius or himself off a tower, so he takes it as a good sign.

The character witnesses are next and sitting through them is the strangest thing he's ever been a part of. It's half apology, half explanation for not believing him and why they should've. It makes Sirius angry, sure, but it leaves spaces for hope. McGonagall looks him straight in the eyes when she says, "he'd rather die than betray his friends, and I should have remembered that."

They read out the evaluations from Frank and James next, and Sirius has to work doubly hard to keep himself from letting any emotion play out on his face. Frank had been a seventh year when he was a second year, and head boy at that. He'd caught Sirius and his friends too many times to count, but he'd always had a soft spot for them.

He'd been thrilled when James and Sirius joined his year one auror initiation class, and he'd even let them pair up whenever they did partner work.

So, it goes for the rest of the week. Umbridge brings witness after witness in to sneer at Sirius, mostly kids he and James used to bully when they were younger. It makes him feel horrible, but as Abbott so sweetly put it—after Sirius annoyed him with one to many doomsday scenarios—"you're not on trial for being a shitty teenager."

In one memorable session, they bring up the dark mark tattoo again and Sirius offers to strip naked and prove once and for all it's not on his body. Umbridge declines, and thankfully, hasn't brought it up since.

On the fifth day of the trial—after a particularly petty session of questions—they're sent away for the Wizengamot to make their final decision. Abbott goes off to send owls, leaving Sirius to crouch in the corner with his head between his knees, desperately trying to calm down.

"Sirius?" Abbott's voice jerks him out of the panic-spiral, but it does nothing for the nausea. "They're calling us back in. You alright?"

"Tip-top shape," Sirius mutters, getting to his feet. "Right, shall we?"

"Listen," Abbott says, catching his arm. "Whatever happens, you are innocent. We know this, and so many more people do too."

"Right," Sirius mumbles. "Er, I dunno if I ever thank—"

"Save it for after we get the verdict, yeah?"

Inside the courtroom, people are buzzing with activity. Fudge and Umbridge, as well as some woman Sirius doesn't know, are having what looks to be a pretty heated discussion. Weary, Sirius takes his seat, looking around. He manages to catch Dumbledore's eye, who winks.

Dumbledore's testimony was given with such authority, Sirius felt like he's in school again. It's strange to hear his praises like, despite his mistakes—and Merlin, has he made mistakes. Once everyone is seated, Fudge signals for quiet.

"This court has deliberated over the trial of Sirius Orion Black and has found him… not guilty of the charge of being a death eater!"

All around them, the room erupts into noise. The Wizengamot argues with itself, Umbridge seethes, and Abbott grabs his shoulders and shakes Sirius about a bit, whooping in excitement. Sirius himself slumps in his seat, the words bouncing around his head so fast, they cease to have meaning.

His breath comes in shallow pants, and all of his edges are fuzzy and cold. Not guilty. How many times has he said the same words to himself?

"Order! This court dictates that Mr. Black be released into the care of a wizard of Legisparitus Emeritus Abbott's choosing. Mr. Black is hereby suspended from magic, and any use of it will result in immediately overturn of sentence, and a lifetime sentence to Azkaban prison. Mr. Black will remain Legisparitus Emeritus Abbott's responsibility until we resume court again on twenty-eighth of September, for the charge of killing thirteen muggles and Peter Pettigrew. Mr. Black's wand shall remain in our charge. Dismissed."

Slowly the room begins to file out, until it's only Sirius, Abbott, Dumbledore, and McGonagall. Sirius regards them with uncertainty. There's a part of him—a part that is entirely Padfoot—that wants to lunge, wants to rip into the two of them for leaving him to rot without a trial in the first place. The more rational part, which sounds suspiciously like Moony, reminds him to thank them.

"Er, I'll just leave you to it," Abbott says, nodding to both professors. "Sorry, just a bit of clerical work to take care of. Sirius, I'll see you in the meeting room, whenever you're… finished."

"Professors," he starts. "Thank you for… er, speaking on my behalf."

"We should've done it in the first place!" McGonagall blurts out. "I knew it, I knew you couldn't have done it! I watched you stay by Potter's side for seven years, and three more after that."

Sirius wants to ask her what the hell stopped her, and maybe it shows on his face, because she seems to deflate. Had he been seventeen, he would've panicked, cracked some stupid joke, or called her "Minnie" to her face to assuage the strange tension between them. He is not seventeen, however, and his rage is endless, despite today's victory.

Instead, he nods once, careful to hold his tongue.

"Sirius," Dumbledore says, voice grave. "You will find that the adults children learn from, the adults they look up to, are not infallible. You will learn it on this side, and then again on the other side."

Sirius swallows hard, anger displaced by the sudden mention of Harri. It is a terrifying thought, that she could ever be this angry at him one day.

"Thank you," he says. "Both of you."

"Is it true?" McGonagall asks. "About… Pettigrew? Albus told me, but I…" Sirius wants desperately to snarl, to ask what the fuck made it so easy to believe that he was the traitor over Peter.

"Yes," he says instead, a bit curt. "I asked James to switch the secret-keeper. It was… a mistake."

"A mistake no one could have predicted," Dumbledore reminds him.

"And what of this next trial? Is Pettigrew even dead—"

"My dear Minerva, perhaps we should let Sirius discuss that with his Legisparitus?" She nods, giving him one last worried look. "I'm sure you have much work to do, with a NEWT class as big as yours." With that, they both head off, leaving Sirius alone in the courtroom.

He looks around, wondering how he would've fared five and a half years ago. Probably not as well. He was in shock, frantic and grieving. Getting up on stand and listening to people talk about James and Lily, about Harri, would've wrenched him to pieces.

Finally, he goes back to the meeting room, where Abbott is packing up.

"Sirius! I was just about to come and get you," he says. "So, I've appointed Mr. Lupin as your vouch. Tiny snag, though, you'll have to remain at his flat, not your own home. Actually, might be best to stay away from there until all the charges are dropped. It's warded, and you going back there just makes it look like you've got something to hide."

"Right, that's fine," Sirius says. Actually, he's deeply relieved that he doesn't have to go back to Grimmauld Place, though he is a little worried about the lack of space. This close to total freedom, he's bound to get more frantic cooped up inside. "Er, what about Harri? Is she—I mean, they won't send her back, will they?"

"No, actually," Abbott says. "Not if I can help it. I've got a hearing with one of chaps from Magical Children's Welfare in the morning. She can stay where she is for now, but I'll be by after to explain more."

"So, I… get to go home?" Sirius can hardly believe it. Every part of his body aches for home, to cuddle up with Harri on the sofa, to chase her around as Padfoot, to have post-bedtime drinks with Moony, to make breakfast with him. He just aches for Moony and Harri likes it's an open wound.

"Yes!" Abbott declares, a wide smile breaking over his face. "I'll take that thank you now."

"Thank you," Sirius says vehemently. "So much."

A/N: Let me know what you thought about the trial, and just any other thoughts you had!