I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that.
Cornelius Fudge loved Christmas. It was his favorite time of year. He loved the cold weather, and bundling up in his best winter clothes. He loved the smell of a steaming cup of hot cider, and the way his breath fogged up. Most of all, though, he loved his annual tours of the Wizarding world's shops and stores. This was the third Christmas that he had been Minister for Magic, and Cornelius decided early on in his administration to make a point of visiting every single shop in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade at Christmas time. He always purchased something in each store, too. It was usually only a trinket or a bauble to be used as Christmas gifts for his various employees and supporters, but he also purchased the monthly owl supplies and potions ingredients for his office. You needed to be seen giving back to the community, after all.
He was working on the never ending mountain of parchmentwork that was in a constant flow through the in and out boxes on his desk. He frowned as he read yet another report from one of his sources inside Hogwarts detailing the strange occurrences that seemed to be going on this year. He had been overjoyed to have the hero of the wizarding world returned to them last year, but he also had to admit to being troubled by this whole "Jedi" business. Harry Potter was a wizard. Now that he was back, he should hang up this "Jedi" nonsense and focus on being a wizard. Dumbledore had counseled against him making any statements to that effect, though. It seemed that if he pushed too hard, the Boy Who Lived would turn into the Boy Who was Lost again.
The door to his office opened, and Amanda Grayson walked in. His secretary was a young, pretty girl, and was only out of Hogwarts for three years. He had only been in office for a little over two and a half years, but he'd been through several secretaries so far. His constant demands of their time and attention tended to wear them out quickly. Most of them only lasted for a few months before moving on to a different career. Contrary to some rumors, he had never engaged in anything inappropriate with any of them, even though he was tempted to. The public would have a field day with that, and he knew it would get out if he did. He simply had a great deal of responsibilities as Minister for Magic, and his secretaries ended up having to field a lot of it. Miss Grayson seemed to have a bit more to her than her predecessors, however, and was still going strong after a full year with him.
"Director Bones here to see you, Minister," Amanda announced.
"Show her in, please, Miss Grayson," Cornelius answered. "I will meet with her, and then we'll take a lunch break. We'll be taking our tour of Diagon Alley this afternoon, so plan on a late night."
"Yes, Minister," Amanda said. She ushered in Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and announced her, then closed the door. Amelia approached the Ministers desk, while Amanda took her seat off to the side. The secretary had parchment and quill ready for transcribing the meeting.
"Amelia," Cornelius greeted, "How are you? Are you ready for Christmas?"
"Nearly so," Madam Bones answered with a smile. "Susan is returning from Hogwarts today. I'm looking forward to having her home for the break."
"Excellent," the Minister said. "Now, what brings you to my office today?" Amelia took a deep breath. She had been preparing for this meeting for a while now, and she honestly didn't know which way the Minister for Magic would position himself on this issue. Cornelius was a decent man, and was incredibly astute politically. He had a taste for the finer things in life, and he loved being the Minister for Magic. He tended to try to avoid conflict, though, and was usually swayed by a hefty donation.
"For the past year," she began, "I've been looking into an issue that I was informed about."
"You're referring to your inquiries into the night the Potters were killed?" asked the minister. He kept his finger on the pulse of both the community and the government, and prided himself on being well informed as to the majority of the happenings in both.
"Yes," Amelia answered. If she was surprised that the minister knew what she had been doing she didn't show it. "If the situation is the way it seems, it may cause a bit of an issue in the Wizengamot."
"What do you mean?" Cornelius asked with a frown.
"What do you know about the trial of Sirius Black?" Madam Bones asked in return.
Gornuk brushed the dirt from his dragonhide jacket as he entered the tent he shared with the five other curse breakers on his team. Three of the team were goblins, and two were wizards. Bill Weasley and Travis Parker were two of the very few human employees of Gringotts. The vast majority of the bank employees were goblins. As his black eyes adjusted to the lower light levels inside the tent, he noted that Bill was packing his things into a duffel.
"Where do you think you're going, Weasley?" he asked in as gruff a voice as he could muster. "We still have two more tombs to clear before we're finished."
"Sorry, Gornuk," Bill answered. "I'm afraid I have to go home for the next two weeks. Bit of a situation that my family needs help with."
"You know that's going to put us below safe thresholds," Gornuk protested, "don't you?"
"I'm sorry," Bill apologized. "They didn't specify, but I can't imagine they'd pull me home unless it was important."
"Weasley!" a voice called into the tent. A larger goblin with a very long nose stuck his head in the tent. "Your portkey leaves in five minutes, don't be late!"
"I won't be," Bill answered. "Well, Gornuk, good luck with the tombs, and let me know how they were situated."
Amelia Bones entered the Ministry of Magic Records Archive and rang the bell for service. Her meeting with Minister Fudge had gone far better than she had hoped for. With Cornelius having been one of the first responders on the scene, she knew he could bear some culpability if it came out that there had been a mistake in the handling of that disastrous day. She was able to frame it as a problem strictly with the previous administration, and the ploy had worked. In his haste to distance himself as far as he could from any decisions made regarding Sirius Black, the Minister had authorized her to unseal any and all records regarding Black and the events of that day, and those that led up to it.
Furthermore, he requested that a copy of any such parchmentwork be forwarded to him so he could be prepared for any actions that might arise from it. The minister, in his efforts to avoid scandal and conflict, was often underestimated due to his tendency to frequently change his positions on topics to better appeal to as wide an audience as possible. It had the effect of making him appear clueless. In this instance he seemed to have understood the seriousness of the situation.
She had timed her visit to the archives so that most of the families who would object to her current activities would likely not be in the ministry today. The students would be returning from Hogwarts for their winter holidays, and most parents took the opportunity for a day off to pick them up at King's Cross. For a full year she had been quietly gathering as much information as she could about the night of Halloween, 1981. Everything she had thought she knew about that night had turned out to be nothing more than a bunch of rumors, conjecture, and wild speculation.
She had been stonewalled at every attempt to get these records for the past year. It seemed that no one wanted to question the decisions they had made all those years ago, and resented her for wanting to dig into it. She was tenacious, however, when she was rooting out a mystery, and this one was proving quite disturbing. Her meeting with Fudge had removed the last of the roadblocks in her way. If the information she had gathered so far was accurate, magical Britain was in for a shock.
"Good afternoon, Director," the on-duty archivist greeted her. "How can I help you?"
"Good afternoon, Janet," Amelia responded. "I need any files you have on this prisoner, please. Arrest records, interrogation transcripts, court docket, transfer records, everything." She wrote down a series of numbers that indicated which inmate she was interested in and her authorization for checking them out. She handed the archivist the slip of parchment. The archivist read the numbers and went into the library of records behind her. She returned a few minutes later with a thin folder labeled with the number of the inmate she had provided.
"That's it?" asked Amelia. Even with all she had learned, she was dismayed to see how little documentation was in the file.
"Were you expecting something more?" asked Janet.
"Well, it's pretty unusual for a longtime inmate to generate this little paperwork, isn't it?" Amelia asked.
"Oh," Janet answered , "I wouldn't know, dear. We're not allowed to read them."
"Is it possible there are other records that have been filed elsewhere?" Amelia asked.
"Oh, no, Director," Janet said, shocked at the thought. "Any records being checked out are signed for. If someone came looking for this file tomorrow, there would be a notation letting me know who checked it out."
"I know how the system is supposed to work," replied Amelia, annoyed that the archivist didn't think the director of the DMLE was aware of the records keeping system at the Ministry of Magic. "There should still be more records than this!"
"I'm sorry, Director," the archivist said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "These are all of the records that exist."
Amelia signed for the folder and took it to her office. She opened the folder, and flipped through the five sheets of parchment it contained. Her eyes grew wide as she realized what this meant.
Shooter and Doc were chosen to escort Harry to the Grangers. Shooter had spent the train ride looking out the window, looking at the landscape passing by. He was pretty tired of living in the ship or patrolling the castle. He was looking forward to some fresh air. If he was lucky, someone would try to attack the commander. Some action would be welcome. He and Doc were dressed much like the non-magical locals. A fairly heavy coat hid his blaster pistol nicely, but he still felt naked without his armor and carbine. From what he had been able to determine, however, most of the non-magical side of Earth was far less action-filled than the magical side, so he would probably not need even the small pistol he was allowed.
Doc had spent the trip quietly reading some medical texts she had borrowed from Madam Pomfrey. She had been both amazed and embarrassed at how quickly the bezoar had stabilized Commander Potter, and knew that no treatment she knew of would have worked nearly as effectively. She was a proud woman, but her professionalism was far more important to her than her pride, so she was determined to learn as much of the local medical lore as she could.
Harry was looking forward to spending some time with the Grangers. He had only spent a few weeks with them in total, but he had really latched onto them as a strong pillar of support for him. Friendly adults who he knew were on his side were in short supply since Toma had been petrified. He had not bonded in that way to any of his teachers. He knew that any of the troopers would die to protect him, but he also felt like none of them knew him. Getting Commander Dameron to agree to remain in Hogwarts while he went to London was quite an energetic conversation. The troopers didn't much care if their armor looked weird on Earth, they were focused on keeping Harry safe.
It had snowed recently in London and the city looked like a picture postcard. The Hogwarts Express pulled into Kings Cross station and came to a halt. Children began exiting the train to find their parents. Harry and Hermione pulled their trunks behind them and gathered with Neville and Daphne to say goodbye. The betrothed pair were going to be spending the Christmas holiday at the Greengrass family manor. Augusta Longbottom was standing with the Greengrass family and would be joining them.
Dan and Emma Granger found them on the platform, and after pulling both of the kids into bone crushing hugs, they introduced themselves to the waiting troopers, then they all made their way to the car for the trip to the Granger home.
"So, Harry," Emma asked, "how did it come about that you were bitten by a venomous snake in Scotland of all places?" Harry was sitting in one of the middle seats of a new Dodge Caravan that Dan Granger had purchased the week before.
"Oh," Harry said. He had not been told by Dumbledore that he had informed the Granger's of the snake incident. "That was Dobby. Apparently, he's so desperate to save my life that 'grievously injuring' me is an acceptable alternative."
"That doesn't sound like a very good compromise to me," Dan said, glancing at Harry in the rear view mirror.
"Well, no," Harry agreed. "Dobby isn't entirely stable, though."
"We were so sorry to hear about Toma, Harry," Emma said. "The headmaster told us about what happened. Are you holding up ok?"
"Yes," Harry said, stoically. "It's definitely been hard, and I don't fully understand why we can't just bring some of the potion to restore him back to Hogwarts, but when I asked, I was told it was illegal."
"I don't suppose you could just zip Toma over to where the potion is?" Dan asked.
"It was discussed," Harry answered. "The council recommended that we not do that."
"Why not?" Emma asked.
"I'm not sure," Harry answered with a frown on his face. "The answer they gave was that this world hasn't made first contact yet, and they want to limit the amount of movement we make on this planet using non terran methods."
"You say that like you don't believe them," Dan observed.
"Well," Harry replied, "it just seems to me like it's awfully convenient. Toma is out of commission, and almost no one seems to want him to be restored. The wizards I can understand, but I don't understand the council's position."
"Why do you understand the wizard's position?" Dan asked.
"The longer I'm without Toma," Harry answered, "the longer I'm not under his influence. I think they feel it will make me more likely to choose to stay here when my schooling is done."
The trip to the Granger's new home took about twenty minutes, and Hermione spent it fretting about what Harry had said. She didn't want to lose her best friend.
Emma got the troopers and Harry set up in their two guest rooms. Harry and Shooter would be sharing one while Doc was alone in the other. Harry and Shooter then joined Dan in the game room while Doc, Emma and Hermione sat around the breakfast nook table and discussed the differences between Earth and Republic medical practices.
Shooter was in love. The basement had been outfitted as a game room. There was a billiards table, a dart board, and a bar. Dan Granger was teaching the trooper and Harry how to play billiards, and Shooter was loving it. It had been far too long since he had enjoyed any shore leave, and he was determined to soak up every ounce of it he could. The adults were enjoying a brandy while Harry stuck with ice water.
"You're not going to get in trouble with Doc, are you?" Harry asked Shooter, gesturing to the tumbler of amber fluid the trooper was enjoying.
"Doc knows the score," Shooter answered. "Even ignoring alcohol suppressors, it takes more than one to knock a trooper on his back."
"I must admit," Dan said, "I'm a bit surprised how… human you look." His tone indicated that he wasn't entirely comfortable with how he phrased the observation. "No offence intended, but weren't you born on another planet? Does alcohol even affect you?"
"Yes," Shooter answered. "I'm a Corellian, in fact. There's been a hundred studies or so on how species on different planets have evolved similarly. I'm not a geneticist or anything, you'd have to talk to Doc about it to get a really good answer."
"There are generally two different ways species from different planets with general human appearance can be explained," Doc said. She, Emma and Hermione had descended into the basement game room to join the men, and had overheard the question. "One is colonization. You humans might be descended from a lost colony. Over a long period of time, there might be some differences that the different ecologies would force, but the general body style and effects of substances would remain the same." She gave the drink in Shooter's hand a disapproving glance, but otherwise didn't mention it. She continued her explanation. "That would be parallel evolution. The other method would be convergent evolution. Similar conditions on different planets typically cause similar life to evolve in similar ways. We've seen enough systems with the same bipedal shape but with no shared ancestors appear that we know that it's true."
"Which of the two methods do you think is in play here?" Hermione asked.
"To be honest," Doc answered, "I think there are enough similarities to say it's almost certain this planet was a lost colony. There's just too many similarities to be explained any other way. How and when, I cannot answer."
"Well," Emma said, "I think we should order in for dinner. Who feels like Italian?"
Bill Weasley approached the gates to Hogwarts. He hadn't been back here since he had graduated, but he had received an urgent owl from Albus Dumbledore himself. His goblin supervisor was not impressed when Bill had asked for a two week vacation, but he had earned the leave and his contract allowed for it. For three years he had worked in Egypt for Gringotts, and he hadn't taken a single day off. He had recently been promoted from Apprentice Curse Breaker to Curse Breaker, and was quite justified in taking a vacation to celebrate.
"Well, if it isn' young Bill Weasley," said Hagrid. The nine foot tall giant opened the gate and let the young man enter.
"Hello, Hagrid," Bill said. "How have you been?"
"Oh," the giant man answered, "doin' fairly well. Bit of trouble up at the school this year, to be 'onest. Got me a bit worried. Was glad to 'ear that Dumbledore had asked you to come and 'elp."
"I'm afraid I haven't heard anything yet," Bill said. "Shall we?" The two men walked up to the castle, with Bill chatting about Egypt and Hagrid telling tales of chasing the Twins out of the forest on a weekly basis.
"What do you mean there was no trial?" Cornelius spluttered, shocked at the bombshell Amelia had just dropped on him. He and Amanda had just returned from lunch and had been preparing for their visit to Diagon Alley when the Director for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement rushed back far sooner than expected to demand an urgent meeting.
"Just that," Madam Bones answered. "There are no records of a trial, not even an interrogation."
"Surely this is just some mistake with the records department," the minister retorted.
"It's not," Amelia answered. "I checked. All the record ever contained was an initial report from the scene, an arrest record, a transfer order signed by Bagnold and Crouch that sent him to Azkaban, and his check in parchmentwork from the prison. That's it. No interrogation, no interview, no testimony, nothing at all."
"Oh my goodness," Cornelius moaned, realizing the political ramifications of the heir to the Black family having been sequestered away for 11 years with no trial.
"Cornelius," Amelia asked, "do you remember a trial for him? I don't, but so much was happening right about that time that it's all a bit jumbled."
"No," the minister answered, his tone miserable and filled with self pity. "No, I don't. I was an obliviator at the time, you know, and I actually was one of the first to show up that night. This report from the scene is mine," he said, picking up one of the papers that was part of the meager stack composing the Black prisoner record. "If there had been a trial, you'd think I'd have been called for it."
"Yes," Amelia agreed.
"How did this happen?" the minister asked. "I mean, it can't have been my fault, I was just an obliviator back then, but for him to just slip through the cracks of the system like that…"
"I don't know," Amelia said, "but we're going to find out."
"What's your plan?" Cornelius asked.
"First thing is to interview Black," Amelia answered.
"Let's get it right this time," Cornelius agreed. "Make sure you use Veritaserum."
"Of course," Amelia answered. "Next step is to audit all the prisoners and make sure this is the only case of imprisonment without trial."
"Heaven forbid," Cornelius shuddered. "I hate to even think such a thing, but we'd better find out."
"Last thing, for now at least," Amelia finished, "you should start working on an exoneration speech for Black."
"That seems a bit premature, don't you think?" the minister asked. "Shouldn't you question him first?"
"Yes," Amelia said, standing up to leave. "But it really doesn't matter how it goes. No matter what he did, having been incarcerated for 11 years without a trial will give him an excellent argument for a lawsuit against the ministry. I don't think that's a lawsuit we'd win."
"I don't agree," said Cornelius, his tone darkening. "The last thing we want is to exonerate a guilty Sirius Black. If the Veritaserum proves he's innocent, he will, of course, be exonerated, treated for dementor exposure, and released with our full and sincere apology. But, that is only if he's innocent. While I admit the lack of a trial is unacceptable, that in itself does not prove he didn't do what he was incarcerated for. The last time I checked we had no statute of limitations for conspiracy to commit murder."
"No, we don't," acknowledged Amelia.
"This is a scandal that will rock our world if it gets out," Cornelius explained. "If he's innocent, that cannot be avoided. One of the jobs of government is to protect our citizens from things like this happening, and to take the lumps if it happens anyway." He stood and started putting his coat on. "If the Veritaserum proves he's guilty, I am not willing to go through the very public, very messy tribulations that would result in us freeing a confirmed murderer. Give him the Veritaserum. If he's innocent, we'll start the process of releasing him, including actually giving him a trial. If he's guilty, though, he'll have to be Kissed. Quietly."
"We can't just execute him!" protested Amelia. "Even if he did it…"
"Oh," interrupted Cornelius, "it won't be anything like a formal execution." He finished adjusting his scarf and put on his bowler hat. "I doubt very much that a killer like him wouldn't take the opportunity to escape during transport or something. I'm also sure the dementors would be more than happy to catch him in the act. Have a Happy Christmas."
Cornelius put his gloves on while Amanda showed Amelia out. They were now late to start their Diagon Alley tour, but he still intended to enjoy every minute of it. You had to be seen interacting with the electorate, after all.
"William Weasley," greeted Headmaster Dumbledore, "it's good to see you back at Hogwarts."
"Call me Bill, Headmaster," The eldest Weasley sibling said, shaking his old headmasters hand. "I was never told what this was about. The goblins just said that you had asked them to grant me a two week vacation as a favor, and that you would explain."
"Oh," answered the Headmaster, "we've been having some trouble with a creature that's on the loose. All of our attempts to locate it have failed thus far, and we were hoping that your experiences with Gringotts in Egypt might give you a perspective that we've missed."
"Gringotts has hunt teams that would be more than capable…" Bill began.
"Yes," acknowledged Dumbledore, stopping Bill from offering to contact his employer, "but there is the small problem of payment. While I am more than willing to offer you nearly anything you wish to ask for your services, I'm afraid the goblins would bankrupt the school for the job we have in mind."
"Ummm…" Bill stammered, "What kind of creature is this?"
"Please remember that you are part of a team, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore comforted, "and we would never ask you to face it alone."
"But what kind of creature is it?" insisted Bill.
"A basilisk," answered Dumbledore. He then had to stop and wait for Bill, who had stopped dead still at the mention of the beast. "Coming, Mr. Weasley?"
"A basilisk?" asked Bill, his voice sounding about half an octave higher than he hoped it would have been.
"Indeed," confirmed the headmaster.
A/N - Sorry for the lengthy delay. I have any number of excuses to offer, each more justified than the last. Or not. I'll do my best to keep going forward.