Snape read the letter and sighed. "Stupid idiot." He muttered. "I know you're sorry, but that doesn't change Harry being dead, now does it?"

"That bad?" Lupin asked.

"No, I suppose not." Snape allowed, handed the letter to Lupin and accepted two in return. His eyes flicked through them, brows raising as he read Potter's letter. "Well, that would explain a few things."

"Doesn't it, just?" Lupin smiled sadly. "We'd better take these to Gringotts and the Ministry. They'll probably want copies."

"I'm sure they will." Snape nodded. "I suggest we do that before returning to the castle."

"Agreed."

Intermission Pt2

Lucius Malfoy looked at his son, a confused expression on his face.

"Excuse me?" Lucius said.

"You heard me, father." Draco replied. "I may be only in third year, but I am the Prince of Slytherin."

"Yes, I heard that." Lucius batted the comment away. "I also heard that you lead Slytherin to follow Dumbledore."

"Then you weren't listening." Draco objected. "I lead Slytherin out of the Dark Lord's shadow and into prime place beside Gryffindor." Draco smirked. "And there's nothing that Dumbledore can do to deny it or the respect it earnt those of us that did it."

"Those of you that did it…?" Lucius asked.

"Oh, yes, there were a few that ignored my… suggestion… they stayed seated and didn't join us. And as a result of that, they have been ostracised by the rest of our House and by the school, whereas, those of us that participated…? We are looked up to, we are respected, we are welcomed… for nothing more than standing up and honouring a fallen foe." Draco said.

"A fallen foe…?" Lucius muttered.

"No-one would ever believe that Potter and I would be… friends… No, never. But respecting what he's done? Yes. Honouring his actions? Yes. Following his lead? Maybe not. But father, he's freed us. There is no chance now, that some crazed madman can force you to act against your will. That… brand… is gone. Whether you consented to it or were forced by grandfather no longer matters, it's gone. Never to return. And Potter did that, that is why I stood and honoured him. Everything else is a side-effect, pleasant, but not the true reason."

"I see…" Lucius hummed before turning to his wife. "Our son is growing up, my love, one day he shall lead our family and it shall be in strong hands."

"Indeed, it shall." Narcissa nodded and smiled at her son.

Bellatrix Lestrange looked at her arm in horror, her dirty and roughened fingers rubbing at the skin. In their wake clear paths of flesh, remained. Clear flesh that should have been filled with the beautiful lines of her Master's Mark.

"No…." She whispered. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no…"

For the rest of her life, 'no' was the only word to pass her lips.

Others of her Master's people weren't so unlucky. Her husband and his brother fell in shock and their hearts failed but not Bellatrix. She was forced to live many years with the knowledge that her Master was truly gone, never to return.

Amelia Bones sighed and let her rolled her head on her shoulders, trying to ease the tension headache that was building at the base of skull. She wasn't all that sure that she was going to last until the end of her shift, not without requiring potions.

"Amelia?" Cornelius Fudge stood in the door of her office.

"Cornelius…" She huffed.

"Is it true? Did Crouch really have his son under imperius in a shed?" The Minister shuffled forward and nearly fell into one of the sets in front of her desk.

"Yes and no." Amelia replied. "Yes to the son under imperius. No to the shed, he had his son in the basement."

"The basement…?" Fudge whimpered. "Oh, dear Merlin."

"Yes, that's fairly much my reaction, too." Amelia nodded. "Both are in the holding cells." She flicked a hand over her shoulder, in the direction of the aforementioned cells.

"They'll be both going back to Azkaban, then?" Fudge asked.

"No. Junior will be being Kissed, he's already listed as deceased, and his 'escape' has earned him that. That's a standard sentence. Senior will go before the Wizengamot but I expect he'll be treated the same. After all, he's responsible for that escape and when you add in however many uses of the imperius, that he's cast on Junior? I think Kissed is a fair call." Amelia sank back in her seat and let her head rest on the back of the chair.

Fudge's shoulders fell. "And Black?'

"Gone." Amelia huffed. "Not a trace of him. Not in England, Ireland, Scotland or Wales. We used his apparition trace, but nothing showed up."

"Would the goblins help, do you think?" Fudge asked, uncertain if his input would be welcomed.

"I wondered that, too." Amelia nodded and Fudge relaxed a little. "But all they've said is that Sirius Orion Black is no longer Sirius Orion Black. They don't know whether he's taken conversion potions like he told Lupin or an adoption potion like Potter said but either way, there's no trace of him in Britain."

"And the… accusations… in the first letter, the Snape letter? About Black and… his innocence…?" Fudge asked.

"Well… that's touchy." Amelia drew in a deep breath. "There's no transcript of a trial and no records beyond his initial arrest. But Lupin and Snape provided memories in lieu of a statement and one of Lupin's was of the fidelius being cast on the Potter's place in Godric's Hollow."

Fudge just looked at her.

"No, Black wasn't their Secret Keeper, it was Pettigrew." Amelia closed her eyes.

"So, what you're saying is that the then Minister allowed a scion of an Ancient and Noble House to be sent to Azkaban without a trial?" Fudge whimpered.

"No, it's far worse than that…" Amelia sighed. "Black was the Heir. And when Arcturus died in February 1991, Sirius Orion Black became the Lord Black."

"Oh, Gods above."

"Thankfully, that won't hold over, if he's taken bloodline conversion potions. It might for adoption potions but not with conversion potions." Amelia said.

"So, who will inherit the seat?"

"I don't know." Amelia shrugged. "Possibly one of Arthur's boys. Arthur's mother was Cedrella Black and Molly's was Lucretia Black, both were Arcturus' cousins. But it could just as easily be Augusta' grandson or Malfoy's son, both have a grandparent that are Blacks."

"But Arthur's boys have two." Fudge nodded. "Do we know what the Black Charter says? Which of the lads it's likely to be?"

"No, the Blacks are extremely chary about sharing their Charter, the goblins have only the only copy outside the family and we've no chance of viewing it. If it's one of Arthur's, it will be either the eldest son or the youngest son." Amelia said.

"Oh, dear…" Fudge sighed.

"Yes, either it will be a goblin-trained curse-breaker or Harry Potter's best friend. Neither of which are terribly pleased with the Ministry's actions toward the boy or his godfather." Amelia nodded tiredly.

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Hogwarts stands united, for the first time since the Founders, all four Houses are standing together, standing behind the memory of Harry Potter. We have to do the same. If we don't…? no-one from this generation onwards will trust the Ministry, or work with us. No-one will believe in us. No-one will respect us. And that will only spread as our younger generations leave us behind." Amelia replied.

"So, we clear Black, then?"

"Publicly, reassess the evidence and go from there. If he's innocent, he's innocent, if he's guilty, he's guilty, but I don't think we'll ever find him, no matter which way it goes. Not with conversion potions available to him."

"With a conversion potion and an age-altering potion, he could be almost anyone on the street." Fudge realised. "Hell, he could be young enough to have not yet started at Hogwarts…" The implications were… huge…

"He could be anywhere..." Amelia nodded.

Peter Pettigrew scampered through the sewers, looking for a safe place to rest, his paws ripped and torn from escaping Sirius and Remus.

The thought of them tore at him, they were his brothers and he turned his back on them. And for what? A crappy life as a rat?

Was it worth it?

He came to a platform above the filthy waters, clear of mess and debris. He huddled against the slimy brickwork and slowly transformed in his human self.

A burning sensation on his left arm had him grasping it, only to gasp in shock when the sensation faded and his Dark Mark was smeared by his sleeve. He quickly uncovered his arm and used a handful of the dirty water below him to wet his arm. The ink ran in rivulets across his skin leaving behind old bruises but no Dark Mark.

"No, it's not… No." Peter whispered. "He can't be gone. I can't have lost everything, not for nothing. No. No." The short man twisted and a fat rat took his place.

A few seconds and the rat was running.

Through this tunnel and into that one, down that one and across this one.

Crunch.

The rat hadn't been taking much notice of where it was going and it had ran from the relative safety of the sewers and out onto a side street, just as a lorry was going passed.

A flash of regret went through Peter's mind before blackness filled him.

Minutes passed before the traffic faded and a hungry young cat, tempted by the smell, dragged the carcass from the road and through a nearby fence and into the stand of bushes that she had claimed as her den, there she ate the first meal she had found in days.