"Now that we have agreed on most points," the Dark Lord said, the words smoothly rolling off his silver tongue, "would you mind if we have a quick lunch before we start the negotiations for the exact wording of the contract?"

Much like he had expected none of those present objected.

"Lord Malfoy, is Draco not home?" Neville asked some time later, looking up from his plate which was filled with a wide array of the most exquisite French delicacies, "I had hoped to talk to him today."

"Draco is out of house," the Lord of the Malfoy family answered, his voice smooth and silky, "he is accompanying my wife to Parkinson Manor. I do not expect them to be home before sunset since Lady Parkinson has the tendency to… drag things out. Should you leave before his return, just write an owl and you can arrange a proper meeting."

"Thank you, Lord Malfoy," Neville said, a faint smile gracing his face. Once Lucius Malfoy had acknowledged his words with a nod of his head, the heir of the Longbottom estate was about to turn his attention back to his meal, when his movement halted, "Gran, may I ask a question?"

"Of course, my dear," Augusta smiled while shooting the Dark Lord an apologetic glance for disrupting their previous discussion.

At first, it appeared like no word would cross the lips of the nervous young wizard. Still, much like during the previous negotiations, Neville took a deep breath and straightened his back, "Gran, how do you know each other? This clearly is not the first time you have spoken."

"No, it is not, Neville," the Dark Lord chuckled, "we have spoken before. Augusta, I grant you permission to explain… our illustrious backstory."

For a moment, the Lady of the Longbottom family appeared to be lost for words before she cleared her throat, "Are you allowing me to tell… everything?"

"Yes," Tom said, a smile gracing his face at the thought of one of his greatest achievements, "while a decade spent in the company of abusive Muggles might not have been the most pleasurable thing I can imagine, it gave me time to come to terms with a few of my… shortcomings, especially my childhood. Therefore, I no longer feel the need to hide it from those I trust. Hence why I trust everyone present to not spread any information without my permission."

"I am glad that you have finally come to terms with your past," Augusta spoke up, thus breaking the silence, as she stared at Tom, clearly uncertain about the depths of information she was about to reveal. In the end, encouraged by the words of the Dark Lord, Augusta began to illustrate how their unconventional backstory had started, "Neville, I was in third year when a boy in second-hand robes with a common name that spoke of his Muggle origins was sorted into Slytherin, a boy by the name of Tom Riddle. As you can imagine, the entire school, teachers, and students alike, were rather upset since never in the castle's long and illustrious history a Muggleborn student had been sorted into the house of snakes."

"I thought you said that you were a Halfblood?" Neville asked, although avoiding eye contact with the Dark Lord.

"I am," Tom spat despite trying to sound neutral, "but I discovered that part of my past only much later. When I started at Hogwarts, I was unaware of my heritage, having grown up in a Muggle orphanage where my mother, a witch and descendent of Salazar Slytherin himself, died giving birth to me, penniless, as she had been left by my Muggle father."

Feeling the soothing touch of his equal on his arm, Tom calmed down, while Neville silently nodded his head in apparent understanding. After a few seconds, Augusta continued, "As much as he was unaware of his heritage, so was the rest of us. Since I was not a member of Slytherin house at that time, I can only imagine how unpleasant it must have been for a supposed Muggleborn being sorted in a house full of Purebloods and sharing living quarters with them."

"That would be an understatement," the Dark Lord chuckled, one eyebrow raised, "if I have ever heard one. Still, I must say that I am surprised that students of other houses were concerned for my well-being."

"Some of us were," Augusta replied quickly, "although I must admit that others clearly were not. There was even a betting pool for how long you would last…"

"Somehow, I am not surprised… Gryffindors," Tom snorted, "who did come up with this madness? Was it Charlus Potter or Clement McLaggen?"

"While Potter was a prankster at heart," Augusta explained, "he would never do something so distasteful. Putting up a betting pool on the fate of a poor Muggleborn student was exactly something McLaggen would have done, and I assure you, he did."

Neville snorted, "No wonder why I hate Cormac and Rory so much. They are awful."

"Exactly," Harry chuckled, "it must run in the family."

"Are you going to… seek revenge?" Augusta asked, her words laid out carefully.

"No," Tom snorted, "not because of something so petty that happened decades ago. Still, as some of my contacts have assured me, the name 'McLaggen' is attached to some pretty shady dealings on the black market, especially concerning the trade of illegal Dragonhide. A few words in the right ears would certainly do the job. Maybe I will make sure that these words are whispered, maybe not. For now, I do not care. Please continue, Augusta."

"Much like many at the time, I was curious how the poor boy would fare in the snake pit," Augusta continued to elaborate, "surprisingly, no words of what happened inside the Slytherin common room ever reached the outside."

"Gran, because to the outside," Neville chirped, "Slytherins always present a united front."

"While that might be true," the Dark Lord injected, "what happened within the common room was far from pleasant, but I dealt with it. Just like I always did."

"Still, the only thing those of us outside Slytherin heard," the Lady of the Longbottom family continued, "was that the Muggleborn boy, apart from spending an awful lot of time in the library all by himself, appeared to stand out in class, outshining everyone with his deep knowledge of Magical theory and a masterful control over his magic. I must admit that this piqued my curiosity. Therefore, a couple of weeks before Halloween, I decided to approach him to ha-"

"Decided to approach him ?" the Dark Lord injected, one eyebrow raised in question, as a coughing sound escaped his mouth in feigned mockery, "or was it because all tables in the library were occupied, while mine was the sole one not crowded to its maximum capacity?"

"I would say there is truth to both our statements," Augusta chuckled, not at all phased by the mockery, "anyway, in the end I sat down at your table only for me to find out that you did not want to be bothered and refused to exchange a single word with me apart from your rather welcoming greeting."

"I was busy studying," Tom defended himself, while rolling his eyes in apparent annoyance, "and I hate being interrupted."

"Which I soon realised," Augusta said, somehow managing to maintain her straight face.

"Yes, he does," Harry chuckled, before she could continue, "there is nothing worse than interrupting him whenever he is absorbed in his studies. I can attest to that."

"That is the conclusion I soon reached, too," the Lady of the Longbottom family continued, her words light, "it proved to be impossible to distract him from his books to obtain any remotely useful information. Hence, why I soon turned my attention to my Transfiguration essay. Much to my surprise, this soon piqued the curiosity of young Mister Riddle, although in the most peculiar way."

"Did he remark how annoying the scratching of your quill was," Harry asked, looking genuinely curious, "or did he correct you?"

"The latter," Augusta laughed, her eyes sparkling in amusement, "I was rather surprised that a student two years younger than me who had just arrived at Hogwarts and who clearly had not been tutored before began to mock and criticise my essay. At first, I thought he had gone crazy. Then, I got the impression that he was trying to make fun of me. Only after he began to explain the theory of the Transfiguration we were covering in class at that time, I realised that he was right and that he, a first year who had lived his entire life in the Muggle world, knew more about magic than me. While at first, I was a bit underwhelmed because of his personality, my curiosity had only increased during this first meeting. Therefore, I decided to join him more often in the library. A fact whi-"

"Which I did not like at all," the Dark Lord spat, although it sounded more endearing than anything else, "she continued to pester me with her presence and her dreadful Transfigurations and Potions essays until one day I wou-"

"He would finally confront me about my motives and began to talk about something else than school work, even if it was just to question my presence," Augusta laughed, "eventually, we broadened the scope of the subjects we discuss, though it took quite a bit of time. While I think that the term 'friends' would be a bit of an overstatement, I would say that we grew to respect each other. In all honesty, I was deeply surprised how much knowledge he had obtained in such a short amount of time, how much thought he had given the developments not only within the magical community of the British Isles, but also the developments overseas, and how much our opinions were alike. For a supposed Muggleborn to sympathise with Pureblood values because of crisp and clean logic was unheard of at that time, especially given Dumbledore's rapidly increasing popularity. For that, I respect Tom. I still do."

"Then why did you never join him?" Neville asked, "if your opinions were so similar?"

"At that time, I was already betrothed to your grandfather," Augusta explained, a sad look in her eyes, before her eyes turned steely, "while I have always loved him dearly, our opinions regarding the different factions of Wizarding society, namely the Pureblood traditionalists and the pro-Muggle reformists have always differed. He has always been an avid supporter of Dumbledore's pro-Muggle politics. The best I could do was reaching an agreement to stay neutral, which I knew at least Tom would respect. Sadly, Dumbledore never did. While the old coot was luckily never able to recruit my husband, he succeeded in gaining the loyalty of my only son. No matter how often I would try to make Frank see reason, he never listened, too brainwashed by Dumbledore's preaching of love and unity between the Muggles and us. For that, I will never forgive the poisonous seducer that is Albus Dumbledore."

With her fierce and honest declaration, Augusta Longbottom had gained the respect and support of the three Lords at the table as well as the undying love of her grandson. Tom could clearly see it in the eyes of Corvus Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, and Severus Snape, while the determined expression of Neville Longbottom spoke louder than words. Still, to the Dark Lord, and by extent his Equal, the words of the Lady of the Longbottom estate were hardly surprising. Since those days at Hogwarts, he had always known that the fierce witch was not an enemy. Now, it appeared like he had gained an ally, a fierce ally indeed.

Many hours later, Tom looked up from the parchment he had been hunched over for what felt like an eternity. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he placed the quill on the table and stretched the fingers of his right hand to lessen the pain of the cramp in his muscles and bones. After a particularly long exhale, the Dark Lord opened his eyes. Immediately, he focussed his attention on the parchment ahead of him, taking in every detail of the contract that had been meticulously sketched out over the course of the last hours.

The corners of his mouth curled into a sharp grin. It was not every day that one got to negotiate with a worthy opponent of the calibre of Augusta Longbottom.

The witch certainly had not made it easy. In fact, she had fought tooth and nail to ensure that the contract between both parties was not worded to the Longbottom's disadvantage. Since Tom had wanted to be fair and thought that she deserved as much, he had done nothing more than preventing any negative consequences for their side. Consequently, the negotiations had not been so much about advantages and disadvantages. It had been more about maintaining a balance between the two factions. As far as Tom could tell, they had been successful.

After scanning the Magical Contract one last time, he offered the piece of parchment to the Lady of the Longbottom estate. The witch quickly accepted the parchment. Fractions of a second later, instead of quietly reading the document, Augusta began to explain the implications of the exact wording to her grandson in a hushed voice. Occasionally, Neville would confirm that he had in fact understood the nuances of the contract. Once the two of them had finished, Augusta looked up from the piece of parchment, "Before we sign this, I must ask you one last time if you truly intend to keep your end of the bargain. Now, Tom, are you?"

The corners of the Dark Lord's lips curled into a mocking smile, "Augusta, do you honestly think so low of me? You, out of all witches and wizards who have met me, should be more than aware that I am not somebody who backs out of a deal at the last minute. If I offer you something, I fully intend on going through with it. I will keep my end of the bargain. Now, Augusta, will you?"

"Of course, I will," the stern witch spat out, sounding rather offended at being questioned, despite having just done the same to her opposite. A dry snort escaped the Dark Lord as he grinned at the Lady of the Longbottom estate before raising a challenging eyebrow at the witch, "Well, let us get on with it."

"No," Neville broke the silence, his calculating eyes on the Lord of the Lestrange family, "does Hermione know about this deal? After all, it will affect her the most since she is the heiress of your line. Is she aware that you are about to bind her future to serve my line?"

Opposite of the Heir of the Longbottom line, Corvus Lestrange's face turned serious, "Despite her not being here in person, my granddaughter and heiress is aware of the gravity of the situation. While we have not discussed this in person, we have exchanged plenty of letters. As surprising as it may seem, Hermione does not oppose my decision. Instead, she fully supports our attempt at building bridges. She does not want the bad blood between our families to continue, especially since she considers you to be her friend, Neville. Therefore, she accepts the vassal bond as long as it does not involve a marriage clause and does not dictate certain aspects of her future, especially her voting decisions in the Wizengamot. Since the bond in the form we agreed upon only extends to the safekeeping of your line, as ensured by my line to our best abilities, there should be no reason for her to oppose the completion of the bond. Still, I am glad that you care."

"We are friends after all," Neville said, a smile on his face, before he turned towards the Dark Lord, his blank Pureblood mask once again firmly in place, "I think there is a contract to be signed."

In a blink of an eye, a blood quill was produced out of the depths of the Dark Lord's pockets. Opposite of him, Augusta's eyes grew wide at the sight of the dark object, obviously in awe that he had somehow managed to get hold of the heavily regulated and tightly monitored device. Not one to hesitate for long, the Dark Lord quickly snatched the magical contract out of Augusta's hands and swiftly added his signature at the end of the document, refusing to flinch as letter by letter got carved on the back of his hand. Not even bothering to look at the scarlet letters on his hand, the Dark Lord quickly passed the quill to his equal. Since they were so closely connected, both by soul and by blood, it was better for both of them to sign a document as binding as this one to prevent unforeseen backlash. Therefore, Harry quickly added his signature before Corvus, too, although rather reluctantly scribbled his name on the piece of parchment.

Once Corvus had removed his gaze from the still wet signature, Tom's eyes immediately landed on Augusta who was watching her adversary like a hawk. Without a word, the Lord of the Lestrange family offered her the blood quill, the letters on the back of his hand still sparkling in an angry crimson. Without warning, the Lady of the Longbottom estate snatched the dark object out of her adversary's hand before the parchment immediately followed suit. The eyebrows of the Dark Lord shot up as the blood quill angrily scratched over the parchment, much more vicious than necessary. Apparently, Augusta was quite eager to get over with this as quickly as possible.

Finally, the blood quill was passed to her grandson. At first, Neville hesitated to accept the dark object, eyeing it with suspicion. Taking a deep breath, the heir of the Longbottom estate took the blood quill and placed the shaking tip of the quill at the end of the magical contract. Failing to entirely swallow the hiss of pain escaping his lips, Neville clenched his teeth as letter after letter was carved onto the back of his hand. Once the signature had been completed, he let go of the blood quill immediately, ferociously starting to scratch his injured hand.

"Do not do that," Tom said, grabbing Neville's uninjured hand, "it will only make things worse. The cuts will heal in no time if you leave them alone. I am aware how much it hurts but interfering with the healing process in any sort will certainly do more harm than good, especially since the quill was not used more than once. Just try to ignore the burn. It will soon cease. Still, I am not ashamed to admit that it is a blessing that the usage of these things is not required frequently."

Opposite of him, a faint smile appeared on the face of the Longbottom heir. Internally, the Dark Lord had no idea why he was trying to comfort the boy who had finally grown a backbone, but maybe that was the exact reason why he had started to respect Neville. Deciding to ignore his feelings for now, Tom reached for the abandoned blood quill, magically returning the Dark object to the Goblins, who as of now were the only ones aside from a selected few Ministry officials allowed to handle the banned objects.

Once the Blood Quill had disappeared out of sight, the Dark Lord offered his hand to the Longbottom heir. Without another word, Neville accepted the hand and began to recite the words all parties present had agreed upon, "Do you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as the Dark Lord Voldemort and Thomas Nero Prince, swear to protect me, Neville Frank Longbottom, and those of my line to your and your followers' best abilities?"

Not faltering, Tom replied, "I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as the Dark Lord Voldemort and Thomas Nero Prince, swear to protect you, Neville Frank Longbottom, and those of your line to my and my followers' best abilities. So mote it be."

Once he had finished his last words, the magic in the room flared up, enveloping the Dark Lord, his Equal and the two members of the Longbottom family in a bright cocoon of magic, thus sealing the vow. Fractions of a second later, the magic within the room settled down again, signalling that the vow had been completed. Since no third party had been involved and he had not sworn on his magic, the vow could not be classified 'unbreakable', a type of bond Tom had hoped to evade because of its gruelling requirements and consequences should he neglect his duties, even if only by accident. With this normal magical vow, he would still try his best to protect the Longbottoms without the negative drawbacks of an Unbreakable Vow.

Unlike the rather 'loose' character of the magical vow he had sworn, the Vassal Bond was much more serious. Much more binding. Preparing and out mapping the Rune circle took almost a couple of hours alone, not speaking of the tedious process of modifying the standard Latin wording.

It was almost midnight when preparations had been finished. After exchanging one last reassuring look with the Dark Lord, Corvus Lestrange took his position within the Rune circle. Surrounded by a myriad of complex Pictish Runes - after all, the magical Vassal Bond had been invented in magical Britain during the Roman invasion thus explaining the rather unusual combination of Languages and Runes - the Lord of the Lestrange family sank to his knees.

Over the course of the next hour, the magic within the Ritual Chamber of Malfoy Manor rose steadily as the Ancient and Most Noble Houses of Longbottom and Lestrange were bound together in a way which had not been used in centuries. Tom felt the magic singing around him, seemingly over joyous that the feud between the two houses had finally come to an end. Apparently, Magic herself approved of the Vassal Bond. It almost felt like Magic herself was relieved that the ancient bond had not been lost.

Tom had to cover his eyes to shield himself from the blinding light which was starting to encompass the Longbottoms and Corvus Lestrange as their fates were woven together. A strange ethereal sound echoed through the chamber as the light shone at its brightest, making the hair on the Dark Lord's arms stand on end. After a few seconds, he lowered his hands to inspect the Rune circle ahead of him. Fortunately, the bright light was slowly getting to a more bearable, more eye-friendly level as the scene unfolded.

While the Longbottoms had somehow remained standing, although even from a distance their buckling legs were more than noticeable, the proud Corvus Lestrange was lying on his back, clutching his chest in pain, panting heavily. Without another thought, Tom was by his side, taking hold of his friend's trembling hands as he investigated the dark orbs of his opposite, "Corvus, stop fighting! The pain will cease once you have fully accepted the bond."

The Lord of the Lestrange family stopped his struggle as he attempted to control his breathing. After a few minutes, most signs of pain had disappeared from his face.

"How are you feeling, old friend?" the Dark Lord asked, the concern in his words unconcealed, "is it better?"

Slowly, the Lord of the Lestrange family nodded his head in confirmation, "I feel better now, although I certainly do not want to experience something like this ever again. I do understand the warnings in the ancient tome now. The bond really… influences one's magical core. It felt like my magical core was being ripped off my very soul to be restructured and bound to the essence of the Longbottoms. Thankfully, it is now reattached. Still, it feels strange… Like something foreign and familiar at the same time."

"Why were you clutching your chest?" Harry asked once Corvus had stopped speaking, "it looked like your core was not the only part of yourself being affected."

For a moment, the Lord of the Lestrange appeared to be confused before realisation dawned on his face. Without another word, he started to unbutton the topmost buttons of his black dress shirt. The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes as the first crimson Runes came into view. This side-effect of the Vassal Bond certainly had not been mentioned in the ancient tome containing the instructions for the ritual. Tom gasped when his old friend pushed the fabric of his shirt to the sides to reveal his chest.

There was a mark in the centre of Corvus Lestrange's chest. A mark which appeared to be burned into his pale, tender flesh. It looked raw and inflamed, almost like a fresh branding, although thankfully lacking the horrific smell of scorched flesh. Only once he had gotten past the shock of seeing the marred skin of his old friend, the Dark lord began to inspect the mark in detail. At first, Tom was confused by the seemingly random components of the mark. Then, the pieces of the puzzle slowly started to unravel.

The ancient Germanic Rune "Laguz" was located at the very centre of the mark. At first, Tom thought very little of it. After all, the Rune representing 'water' or 'the sea' was a fairly common one. Only when his eyes landed on the Hydra whose body and countless heads were wrapped around the letter did the pieces of the puzzle finally make sense.

While the Longbottom family currently resided in Devon, they had not always lived there. Being one of the original Pureblood families from the British Isles, they had originally lived in the north of Scotland at the edges of the deepest lake, Loch Ness, which had once upon a time been known for inhabiting a large population of Hydras, the last on the British Isles. The name 'Longbottom' originated from the rather special location of the original family manor. Connecting the titbits of information, Tom deduced that the symbol on Corvus' chest must be the original coat of arms of the Longbottom family which had been used before the family had switched to the more public-friendly, 'Light' version used today. The coat of arms itself was encompassed by a myriad of Runes containing the exact wording of the Bond Corvus Lestrange had agreed to. Overall, the mark was an incontestable and undeniable proof of the sworn allegiance of the Lestrange family. As far as Tom was aware, each member of the Ancient and Most Noble line would receive a similar mark upon reaching maturity or upon accepting the terms of the bond in blood if they were already off age.

Negotiations with the Longbottoms had proven to be quite surprising indeed.

On Sunday morning, Harry could not help himself but groan as he drifted back towards consciousness, even though the electrifying fingers of the Dark Lord were gentry combing through his unruly locks. How he wished to go back to sleep again to simply evade the next few days. Sadly, he could not. Still, he wished he could.

"Good morning," Tom's hot breath brushed over his ear, "are you ready?"

"Not really," Harry groaned, pulling the shared blanket under his chin, "I wish we did not have to do this."

"So do I," the Dark Lord replied while continuing to let his finger wander through his equal's hair, "so do I… Sadly, for our plans to blossom we have to… Despite how much we wish there was another way. Unfortunately, this is the only way."

"Will you be with me?" Harry asked although he already knew the answer, opening his eyes for the very first time of the day. He was rewarded immediately as he got lost in the deep and dangerous crimson eyes of his opposite.

"Of course," Tom replied, his voice gentle and smooth, "as much as I can. Always remember that you are never alone. Even if I am not with you physically, the connection between us is still there, even if it is not as strong as it should and will be."

Upon hearing the Dark Lord's words which had been spoken with so much certainty, the corners of Harry's mouth curled into a faint smile, "I know, and you cannot imagine how much that means to me."

Despite the reassurance of the Dark Lord, the farewell a few hours later certainly was not an easy one. After being wrapped in Tom's arms for what felt like an eternity, the Dark Lord stepped back leaving him alone for the first time in his life. For as long as Harry could remember, Tom had always been there for him. Therefore, seeing him step into the green flames of the hearth before disappearing from view, beginning to spin around his own axis, was just heart-breaking. Deep down, Harry was aware that the separation would not last forever, only a few days at the most, and that it was for a good cause since it was vital for the progression of their plans. Still, those thoughts did very little to calm him. Declining Severus' offer to help him with the creation of a new Potion, Harry retreated to his and Tom's room.

Many hours later, he was lost in thoughts, the unmistakable scent of Tom emerging from the Dark Lord's pillow being the only thing soothing him at least a bit. So far, he had heard nothing from the Dark Lord. Since the weakened link between the two of them only allowed Tom to directly communicate with him, the only thing Harry could do was waiting for a sign of life from the most important person in his life. In times like these, Harry envied Tom's ability to use the link. While he had tried to access the link to send a message to the Dark Lord, the connection simply refused to work for him even though Tom had promised to never block the link. Cursing the weakened connection, Harry buried his head deeper in the Dark Lord's pillow inhaling the familiar and beloved, almost addicting scent, counting down the minutes until he would finally hear from Tom.

It was almost dark outside when Harry stepped into the small living room of Spinner's End. Having heard the feet on the floor, Severus looked up from his Potions' notes, his dark eyes on Harry, "I take it that he is still alive and that the first step of your plan has been executed?"

Nodding in confirmation, Harry let himself fall on one of the cozy armchairs opposite of the Potions Master, "Yes, he is fine."

"You do not seem convinced," Severus remarked, putting his notes on the small coffee table next to his chair, his attention now solely on Harry, "why is there doubt in your words?"

Closing his eyes, Harry sighed, "While I do not doubt that Tom is safe and knows what he is doing, the situation itself… just makes my skin itch… if you know what I mean."

"I take it you have never been alone like this," Severus concluded, his words full of compassion as he stared at his godson.

Again, Harry nodded his head in confirmation, "No, never."

"I have been alone for so long that I can hardly imagine sharing a life with someone else, especially on the level that you have," Severus said after a moment of silence, "maybe I can grasp the gravity of the situation, probably never entirely since I have never had a similar experience, if you want to tell me how the connection between the two of you has affected your life. They say that sharing lessens the burden one has to carry. Although as always, I am highly sceptical of such sentimentalities, there might be a bit of truth to the saying. But only if you want to."

For a few seconds, Harry contemplated the words of the Potions Master. Normally, he would never share details of the connection between himself and the Dark Lord. Still, under normal circumstances he could always talk to Tom. His absence changed quite a few things he had taken for granted. Since Severus was already in the known about some aspects of their special connection Harry deemed it safe to reveal more. After all, the Potions Master could and would never reveal any sensitive information.

"Very well," Harry whispered, closing his eyes before taking a deep breath, "you must understand that for me life was and has always been different. Still, from a very early age I was aware that the presence of Tom was neither imaginary nor normal, yet I would not have it any other way since he was always there for me. When I woke up, he was there for me. When my lovely relatives would abuse me, he was there for me, always an encouraging word for me and death threats for my relatives on his lips. When I was forced to do their housekeeping, he was there for me. In the loneliness of my cupboard, he was there for me. At school, he was there for me. When I went to sleep, he was there for me. He simply was always by my side. Always encouraging me, yet never pitying me, despite the severity of the circumstances and the threat I was prophesied to pose to his existence. Despite everything, he was always there for me and I was always there for him. My situation was not the only dire one. You cannot imagine how difficult and frustrating it was for Tom. Although at first, he tried to hide it from me, he did eventually share his thoughts with me. Despite everything, he is a human being just like everybody else. Over time, we just got to know the other inside out. There were no secrets between the two of us and no problem we could not solve together. And best of all, we were always there for each other. Losing the presence of one another, especially the ability to communicate without limitations, without borders, scares me since for as long as I can remember, I could always count on him. Him not being with me simply is something as foreign to me as it would be for you to be stuck with someone all day without any breaks. I am simply not used to this and to be honest with you, I do not want to. I know that this is not healthy, yet I cannot find the energy to care and thu-"

Before he could say more, he felt strong arms enveloping him in a comforting embrace, "Enough. It is okay. While I will never fully understand the gravity and the extent of your connection with the Dark Lord, I comprehend now why this situation is not easy for you since you never had to experience being alone. Since I am now aware how much his presence means to you, all I can say is that I fully support your plans to restore your unique connection despite the concern I have previously voiced, especially regarding your age. Despite my support, I also want you to know that while there was, is, and always will be Tom in your life, there are also other people who will support you as well. I want you to know that I am one of them. Therefore, be sure that we will make it through the next days together."

The next morning, his bed was strangely cold. Tom was still gone.

Despite the absence of the Dark Lord, Harry jumped out of the bed with new-found determination. The talk with Severus last night and his short conversation with Tom before falling asleep had done wonders. Besides, today was an important day.

After finishing his daily exercise routine and taking a quick shower, he took his time getting dressed. After all, he was keen on making a good first impression. Today would mark the first public appearance of 'Harry Potter'. The place for his return into the magical world had been selected carefully – in front of the entire Wizengamot, the highest-ranking Ministry employees, and the Minister himself. While he had interacted with some Ministry officials, a handful of selected Purebloods, and the Minister himself during the traditional Yule Ball at Malfoy Manor, the general public had not interacted with 'Harry Potter' yet. The trial of Sirius Black would be one of the most important trials of the century. Therefore, Harry was sure that no member of the Wizengamot, thus each head of every faintly important Pureblood line as well as the most influential and powerful Halfblood and Muggleborn witches and wizards, and no reporter would willingly miss the spectacle. All in all, it was the perfect occasion to properly enter the stage of politics.

Because of the significance of the event, a proper exterior was vital. While he had no intention of shedding the image of the "Boy Who Lived", the conqueror of the Dark Lord and saviour of the Wizarding world, he was keen to prove that he was not utterly oblivious to Wizarding customs and traditions and instead supported the preservation of magic. Therefore, he had opted for traditional black Wizarding robes of the highest quality. The Goblin tailors truly had outdone themselves. The quality of the silver and emerald stitching of the Potter family crest on the back was exquisite to the point that most Purebloods would be puzzled of the origins of the robes and envious, nonetheless. Nevertheless, the robes would not hinder him in any way. Despite their obvious formal appearance, they were as good and as functional as every duelling robe.

Once he had finished buttoning his robes and straightened his unruly hair to the best of his abilities, he headed for breakfast.

"While I think you look phenomenal in those robes," Severus said, after he had lowered the latest issue of the Daily Prophet, "I still do not understand why you refuse to incorporate the traditional colouring of the Potter family into your wardrobe."

"Sure," Harry snorted, one eyebrow raised, "there is nothing more that I desire than looking like a Christmas tree. Still, I think you would look exceptionally handsome in one of those plum-coloured robes the members of the Wizengamot simply love to wear."

For a moment, the Potions was lost for words, images of those ghastly robes surely flooding his mind. Harry had no idea why somebody had thought it would be a good idea to introduce a standard uniform for the members of the Wizengamot, least of all select this particular shade of purple. Luckily, Lords and Ladies of the ancient Pureblood lines and their heirs as well as the Chief Warlock were exempt from the rule and could thus dress as they pleased. Otherwise, Harry doubted that Severus would have ever set a foot in the courtrooms of the Ministry. The aversion of colourful clothing of the Lord of the Prince family was almost legendary.

"Or maybe," Harry spoke into the silence, "you would look just as lovely in one of the tasteful patterns the Headmaster likes to wear. I truly enjoy the floral patterns he recently appears to favour, especially the one with the turquoise, orange, and yellow combination he wore at the farewell feast. That pattern would just look lovely combined with your black hair and you-"

"Enough," Severus hissed, "I want to spend my breakfast in peace before I have to endure those incompetent fools that call themselves the elite of our society."

Chuckling to himself, Harry took a seat at the table and reached for a slice of toast, clearly amused by the moods of the Potions Master.

Once they had finished breakfast, Harry and Severus Apparated to Malfoy Manor. In the lavish entrance hall, they were immediately welcomed by the Lord of the Malfoy estate who had opted for silver robes with green and black highlights to honour the colours of his family, "Good morning. You two just look perfect for today's special occasion. I must congratulate your tailors. Where can I find them?"

"Right at Gringotts," Harry chuckled, eagerly waiting for the reaction of the Malfoy Lord. He did not have to wait long.

"The Goblins tailored your robes?" Lucius asked incredulously.

"Yup," Harry said popping the 'p', "they can be quite resourceful once they have decided that you are not their enemy."

"I see," Lucius said, his voice silky once again, "I take it that your plans are advancing. I hope you will on day not regret your trust in the Goblins."

"No, certainly not," Harry chuckled, "as far as Tom did tell me, our plans are advancing as they should be, which is due in no small part to the dedication of the Goblins. I must remind you one more time that Tom and I trust the Goblins to keep up their end of the bargain. But enough of the Goblins. Where is Draco? I know that we plan on arriving late, but I am not keen to miss this spectacle because we arrive too late."

"Draco currently is with his mother," Lucius sighed while rolling his eyes, "she insisted that he has to look 'presentable' to not bring any shame to the family name."

"For how long has he been in the clutches of Narcissa?" Severus asked, one eyebrow raised as he eyed the Lord of the Malfoy family, his arms locked in front of his chest.

"A couple of hours maybe," Lucius answered, although he carefully averted the eyes of the Potions Master, "I was busy studying my correspondence. Therefore, I am uncertain."

Shaking his head, Severus snorted, "You are just glad that Narcissa is not fussing over your wardrobe for a change."

Being the diplomatic man that he was, the Lord of the Malfoy family opted to remain silent, thus answering everything that needed to be answered. As he was musing to himself, Harry was just about to open his mouth when he heard quick steps on the cold marble stairs. Looking up, a clearly exasperated Draco was sprinting down the chairs, clearly not caring about maintaining his dignity since it was quite obvious that he was trying to get as much distance between himself and his mother as possible.

"Hello, Draco," Harry chuckled, failing to keep the amusement out of his words, "you look absolutely splendid. How was your morning?"

"Hullo, Harry," the heir of the Malfoy family said, his words hushed, obviously not in the mood for any banter as he turned to his father, sounding rather desperate, almost like he was pleading, "father, when are we leaving?"

Ignoring the snort from the amused Potions Master, a concerned Lucius threw a quick glance at the stairs, "As quickly as possible."

"It almost seems like you are more afraid of Narcissa when she is in one of her fashion sprees to ensure that your family's exterior, be it your wardrobe or the decoration within this Manor, leaves nothing to be desired while awakening the envy in those around you," Severus drawled as the corners of his mouth curled into a sinister smile. Sadly, before the dour man could continue, an exasperated, eye-rolling Lucius signalled Harry and Draco to grab his left arm before reaching out for the arm of the Potions Masters. Fractions of a second later, the four re-materialised within the Apparition area of the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Since only the Lords of the Ancient and Noble Pureblood lines holding a seat of the Wizengamot and the highest-ranking Ministry officials were granted permission to directly apparate in and out of the Ministry, the area was deserted.

As opposed to the Apparition area, the remainder of the Atrium was buzzing with life. Witches and wizards of all ages and occupations were rushing through the long and splendid hall with its highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock-blue ceiling above them was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that were continually moving and changing like some enormous heavenly notice board, while the walls on each side were panelled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft whoosh; on the right-hand side, short queues of wizards were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart.

Ignoring the streams of witches and wizards for now, Harry followed Lucius and Draco towards a set of golden gates. On their way, they passed the Fountain of Magical Brethren, depicting a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air accompanied by a beautiful witch. The pair was surrounded by a Centaur, a Goblin, and a House Elf, all of which smaller than the two figures in the centre of the fountain. Harry barely suppressed a sneer at the sight. Firstly, because of the unfavourable and certainly degrading depiction of the Centaur, the Goblin, and the House Elf, and secondly because of the blatant absence of several other magical species, like Vampires, Werewolves, and the Merpeople, only to name a few. Should he and Tom ever seize control of the Ministry, the Fountain would be one of the first things to go.

Before Harry could think more about the hideous reminder of creature discrimination, they had already passed the golden gates and had arrived at a security stand where a young guard stopped Severus, "Professor Snape, I am afraid I cannot let you pass without registering your wand first."

Burying his annoyance behind a masquerade of indifference, Severus reluctantly handed his new wand to the guard, "I am glad to see that you found employment at the Ministry, Broadmoor. I was under the impression that you were eager to pursue a career on the Quidditch Pitch just like your father and brother, especially because of your interest in your schooling."

At that, the ears of the guard turned an interesting shade of red as he lowered his head, "I… I was suspended from the Falcons."

"Why am I not surprised," the Potions Master drawled, before stretching out his hand, hissing impatiently, "my wand. I would rather have it back before you manage to break it."

In his haste to register the wand, a jet of sparks shot out of the tip of the Potions Master's wand, nearly igniting the registration forms on the guard's desk. Thankfully, the remainder of the wand registration progressed without further disturbances. In his eagerness to not further anger the Potions Master, the guard even refrained from questioning Harry's presence.

A few days ago, the Goblins had finally officiated the change of Harry's guardianship as well as updated Severus' change in legal status. Because of the ineffectiveness of the legal proceedings within the Ministry, the changes had luckily remained undiscovered.

Once the doors of the lift had closed behind Harry, the Potions Master turned towards the Lord of the Malfoy family, ignoring the swarm of pale-violet paper aeroplanes, the interdepartmental memos used to convey messages between the different departments of the Ministry, whirring above their heads, "Please tell me, that this was the first and last time that I had to hand my wand to a brainless imbecile like Broadmoor when entering this esteemed building."

"Once you have become an official member of the Wizengamot," Lucius explained, "you and your ward can pass freely."

Without warning, the lift moved downwards. Surprised by the speed, Harry almost lost his footing. The only thing keeping him upright was the firm grip of Severus' hand on his shoulder, who was thankfully tall enough to reach one of the few handles above their heads. Rushing past the ninth floor housing the Department of Mysteries, they soon arrived at their destined floor.

Apart from a few holding cells, the lowest level of the Ministry of Magic was solely reserved for the courtrooms of the Wizengamot. Without further ado, Lucius led them straight past the smaller courtrooms towards the end of the corridor.

Two Aurors guarded the large open double doors of Courtroom Ten, urging the last witches and wizards to enter as the trial within was soon to commence. Refusing to quicken his pace, the Aurors were about to close the doors when the Lord of the Malfoy family arrived at the end of the corridor.

"You are late, Lord Malfoy" one of the Aurors, a young woman with bright pink hair, scolded the Lord of the Malfoy family.

"Trainee Tonks," Lucius replied, his voice silky yet deadly as a viper, "we would have arrived much sooner if we had not been halted at the wand registration point by the employees of this very Ministry. Furthermore, I must once again remind you of your status as a trainee while I as a member of the Wizengamot certainly have other places to be than answer your unwarranted questions. Auror Shacklebolt, I certainly do not want to disrupt today's proceedings any further. Therefore, I must ask to let us pass now."

Not waiting for an answer from the dark-skinned Auror, the Lord of the Malfoy family strode past the two Aurors, his son, Severus, and Harry following suit.

"Lucius, I am glad you could make it," the voice of Albus Dumbledore echoed through the packed rows of Courtroom Ten, "now that we are comple-"

The Chief Warlock halted mid-word as his eyes landed on Harry and the Potions Master by his side, his eyes growing wide, before he regained his ability to talk, "Severus, what are you doing here?"

"I am surprised that you ask," Lucius Malfoy's silky words disrupted the brief silence following the Chief Warlock's question before any of the reporters present could even lift a finger, "Severus here asked me to officially introduce him to the ranks of the Wizengamot as he intends to obtain his rightful place amongst our ranks as the Lord of the Prince estate, his birthright, as he is the sole son of Eileen Prince, the only child of the late Lord Octavian Prince."

"I was unaware that you were eligible for becoming the head of the Prince line," Dumbledore said, trying his best to maintain his grandfatherly façade, "what a pleasant surprise and unexpected addition to the Wizengamot. Still, I cannot help but wonder what Harry is doing here. While the upcoming trial concerns you, Harry, more than anyone else, I sadly must remind you that no minor is, by law, allowed to attend a meeting of the Wizengamot without his magical guardian. I am sorry, my boy."

Internally, Harry snorted. Even if Severus had not become his magical guardian, his previous magical guardian was present. After all, it was Dumbledore himself.

"Headmaster, thank you for your concern," Harry said, trying to keep his voice light, "but my guardian is already present as Professor Snape is with me."

Around Courtroom Ten, witches and wizards were heard gasping for air, while Dumbledore's eyes behind his half-moon glasses grew even wider. It seemed like the Headmaster had truly never considered the possibility that the Saviour of the Wizarding world would ever escape his legal clutches.

"When?" the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot whispered, "and… how?"

"Following the revelation of Peter Pettigrew, both Harry and I received invitations from Gringotts to check our legal status as a number of documents had been discovered," the Potions Master explained, sounding rather smug despite his impressive mask of indifference, "Harry asked me to accompany him to the Goblin bank, since at that time he did not have a magical guardian. As his Head of House, I agreed. Rather surprisingly, we discovered that Lily Potter named me his honorary godfather shortly before her death."

"Since I know and trust Severus, as he has taken care of me ever since we met, and my mother obviously trusted him," Harry continued to explain, a sad smile appearing on his face, "I asked him to assume the position of my magical guardian. I am so happy that I finally have somebody who cares for me like a parent."

Once he had finished, the sound of cameras followed by their flashing lights filled Courtroom Ten. Much to Harry's amusement, the press appeared to be eating out of his hands, thus leaving the Headmaster no choice but to congratulate him on his new magical guardian. Without further ado, Severus was sworn into the Wizengamot. As he was the Lord of an Ancient and Noble house, it was only a formality as opposed to the tedious process the elected members of the Wizengamot, who were no descendants of the ancient lines, had to go through.

Ten minutes later, Severus and Harry finally took their seats amongst the remaining members of the Wizengamot's Dark faction. Since the Prince family, next to the Black, Lestrange, and Nott family, was one of the oldest purely Dark lines of the British Isles, it was only natural that their seats were located at the very centre of the Dark faction. Once they had taken their seats, Dumbledore finally opened the first of the Wizengamot's summer sessions, declaring that today's session was solely reserved for the trial of Sirius Black, who because of his frail health would not be present.

Once he had finished, he turned the floor over to Amelia Bones. The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement rose from her seat, "Lords and Ladies, today we are gathered here to finally shed light on what truly happened following the attack of the Potters on the night of Samhain, 1981. As most of you are aware, I, as the Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, and Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour were called to Hogwarts a little over two weeks ago to investigate something most peculiar. According to the Patronus message sent by Bridget Hawthorne, the History of Magic teacher, Peter Pettigrew had been discovered at Hogwarts posing as the pat rat of a student. Upon our arrival, we immediately discovered that Peter Pettigrew indeed was alive and well and not dead as we all had previously believed. Still, since neither Rufus nor I were present from the beginning, I call forth our first witness. Miss Hawthorne, would you please explain what happened before our arrival."

As if on command, Auror Shacklebolt escorted the pale witch to the chair at the centre of the courtroom. In all honesty, Harry was surprised to see the witch, especially since she was usually hard to overlook because of her exceptional exterior. Either the corner she had emerged from was just very badly lighted, or she had used magical means to conceal her presence. Given the animosity between herself and the Headmaster, the latter seemed more than likely. Still, given her active involvement in the handling of the discovery of Peter Pettigrew, it was only logical for Amelia Bones to call upon her no matter how much Albus Dumbledore despised the historian.

"Lady Hawthorne," Madam Bones began once the pale witch had taken her seat, the chains used to secure suspected criminals thankfully remaining inactive, "as you are speaking in front of the Wizengamot, I must inform you that you are required by law to tell the truth. While it is not required for you to swear a vo-"

"Madam Bones," Bridget Hawthorne spoke up, her pale eyes on the Headmaster, almost challenging her adversary, "I, Bridget Hawthorne, hereby swear upon my magic to tell the truth and nothing but the truth concerning the events surrounding the discovery of Peter Pettigrew. So mote it be."

A bright light flashed through the courtroom as the Magical Vow was officiated.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Hawthorne," Amelia Bones said, a faint smile appearing on her usually stern face, "please explain what happened before Head Auror Scrimgeour and I arrived at the Great Hall."

"Of course, Madam Bones," the History of Magic teacher replied, "as far as I could tell, dinner was a rather ordinary affair, at least until the Weasley twins decided to celebrate the end of exams, as the last had taken place only hours prior. Without warning, they jumped off their seats and started releasing magical fireworks while also firing off sparks and other spells. From my position at the staff table, I obviously was unable to identify each spell, especially given the state of chaos the hall had turned into by then, but I am fairly certain that none of the spells were more than simple pranking spells. Nevertheless, something must have hit the pet rat of their younger brother Ronald as the rat suddenly began to grow, turning into a fully grown man. I and most of my colleagues immediately identified the man as Peter Pettigrew. While I had never met him personally, I think his short stature, and his outward appearance which had been frequently depicted in the papers after his death spoke for themselves. Severus Snape and I immediately apprehended Pettigrew with magical means, as he was obviously trying to flee. Once we had separated the students from Pettigrew, I immediately informed the Ministry."

"Miss Hawthorne, a quick question," a short squat woman spoke up once the pale witch had finished. With her broad, flabby face, a wide, slack mouth, little neck, and revolting bulging and pouchy eyes, the witch looked like a large, pale toad. Suppressing the urge to gag, Harry quickly averted his eyes from the toad-like witch back to his History of Magic professor.

"Of course, Miss Umbridge," the pale witch replied with a smile that did not reach her eyes.

"I cannot help but wonder," the toad-like woman continued, her words contrary to her appearance delivered in a simpering high-pitched voice that was girlish and breathless, "why did you as a new teacher inform the Ministry and not somebody with the proper authorisation to directly contact Ministry workers of the calibre of Madam Bones and Head Auror Scrimgeour."

"Dolores," Amelia Bones began, her words lacking any warmth, "I think this question is hardly necessary."

"Amelia," the toad-like woman replied in her sugary voice, "I am afraid that I insist. After all, this is a clear breach of protocol."

"Miss Umbridge, I am more than aware that it should have been the Headmaster or the Deputy Headmistress to contact the Ministry," Bridget Hawthorne began to explain, no uncertainty tainting her words, "unfortunately, the Headmaster was not present during dinner as he had left Hogwarts earlier that day. Therefore, I am afraid he was unavailable. Secondly, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall was clearly overwhelmed by the discovery of her former student. Unlike Severus Snape and I, her reaction to the discovery left much to be desired. Severus Snape, Filius Flitwick and I tried to talk to her numerous times, but it became apparent rather quickly that she was in a state of shock. Therefore, I took matters into my own hands and contacted the Ministry via a Patronus message. The choice of Madam Bones and Head Auror Scrimgeour simply happened in the heat of the moment. Should my explanation be insufficient, I gladly offer you to view my memory."

Although Dolores Umbridge appeared to be clearly eager to demand just that, Amelia Bones was quicker, "That should hardly be necessary. Now that we know what happened before Rufus and I arrived at the Great Hall, it is now time to clarify what happened afterwards. Therefore, I invite all of you to view my memory."

With a flick of her wand, a Pensieve was Levitated in the centre of the room where a small table had been Conjured moments prior. Once the Pensieve had landed on the table, Amelia Bones used her wand to extract a memory from her mind, immediately placing the cloudy, silvery substance in the shallow stone basin. With another flick of her wand, the lights in the room darkened. Once all noises within Courtroom Ten had died down, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement uttered a series of difficult incantations causing the Pensieve to glow before the memory within expanded right above the stone basin for everyone to see and hear.

Since he had been present during the interrogation, Harry saw little to no point to waste his time with Pettigrew's interrogation. Instead, he spent the next minutes observing the members of the Wizengamot, the Ministry workers present, and the press as they watched the rat-like man confessing his crimes. Surprisingly, the reactions of the different factions present did not differ much. In fact, most had forgone their masks and were openly sneering at the traitor, the Light faction because he had betrayed James and Lily Potter to the Dark Lord, and the Dark faction because of his cowardly motives and the fact that an innocent Lord of an Ancient and Most Noble Pureblood line, although they were unaware that Sirius had been disinherited, had spent a decade in Azkaban because of Pettigrew's schemes.

Once the memory had finished, the courtroom erupted in a sea of upset voices. The fate of Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew appeared to be sealed.

Before the ruckus could grow any louder, Amelia Bones' magically amplified voice echoed through Courtroom Ten, "Lords and Ladies, while I can understand why you are upset, this is hardly the place for such reactions. Due to the injustice some of the involved had to endure, I want to make sure that each of the involved will be given the chance to disclose their version of what happened. Since Sirius Black sadly was not given the medical clearing to attend this trial due to his frail health following his long-term exposure to Dementors, the following interrogation was conducted yesterday afternoon at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries."

Upon this declaration, the face of Albus Dumbledore turned pale. Obviously, the old coot had not considered that someone would make the effort of questioning Sirius Black. Neither Harry nor Tom were aware of what Dumbledore had done to Sirius Black to force him to go after Pettigrew and whether he had erased his fingerprints. Before Harry could think more about the possible scenarios of the interrogation of his godfather, Madam Bones continued.

Again, a memory was placed in the Pensieve and before long, a sparsely furnished hospital room came into view. Ignoring the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement pulling a chair closer to the single bed within the room, Harry's eyes immediately landed on Sirius Black. Although most of his body was hidden underneath a thick white blanket, Harry could not help but remark how thin and frail the last of the Black family looked. With his gaunt, sunken face, waxy skin, yellow teeth, and long, matted hair he resembled a corpse more than a living being. The only signs of life were his eyes. Apart from his prematurely aged exterior, they were sparkling with life, a sign, that the Dementors had not managed to fully break him.

His godfather was not alone. A pale, tired looking wizard wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes was sitting on the other side of his bed as he watched the approaching Ministry official with weary eyes.

"Mister Lupin, I am not here to harm your friend," Amelia Bones broke the silence following her unanswered greeting, "rather the opposite. From a juridical point of view, the innocence of Sirius Black here is just a formality as the true perpetrator already disclosed his guilt while under the influence of Veritaserum. Still, I think that you, Sirius Black, deserve the chance to explain everything from your perspective."

For a moment, his godfather looked truly stunned, before he whispered, "Why?"

"In the past, you were denied a fair process," Amelia Bones answered, her words sincere, "we have failed you. I want you to know that we will try our best so that what happened to you will never happen again. I think we should start now, should we not?"

"Yes," Sirius answered after a while, before adding, "I am glad that you care."

A faint smile appeared on Amelia Bones' usually stern face, "I always do. Now, while we all know that it would be the best if you were to either swear a magical vow or take Veritaserum, I can understand whe-"

"Give me the Veritaserum," the last of the Blacks interrupted her, "I want to clear this once and for all."

"Sirius, you do not have to do this," Remus Lupin said, while reaching for his friend's hand, "after Peter's confession, everybody knows that you are innocent."

"But I want to," Black said, a stubborn glint in his eyes, "I want the entire Wizarding world to know what really happened."

Much to Harry's satisfaction, opposite of him in the darkness of Courtroom Ten, Albus Dumbledore grew even paler.

Once the Veritaserum had been administered, the eyes of her opposite had glazed over, and a Dictating Quill had been placed on a long piece of parchment, Amelia Bones began her interrogation, "For the records, please state your full name."

After a moment of silence, his godfather answered, "Sirius Orion Black."

"Thank you," the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement said immediately, "were you, Sirius Black, the Secret Keeper of James and Lily Potter?"

"No, I was not," his godfather replied immediately, "while I was their first choice, James and Lily decided against using me. As they explained it to me, using me would have been too obvious. Therefore, they settled for Peter while using me as a decoy."

"What happened on the night of Samhain, 1981," Amelia Bones continued, trying her best to remain calm.

"I… I cannot explain it, but I somehow had a bad feeling and decided to check up on Peter," Sirius Black explained in a monotonous voice, "when I arrived at the safe house he had been hiding, the windows were dark. Inside, everything was blasted to smithers, like an attack, although the Dark Mark was missing. I immediately rushed to Godric's Hollow where James and Lily were hiding in a small cottage. Upon my arrival, I discovered the corpse of James partly covered under debris. It looked like he had tried to stop Voldemort. Like many, he had failed. I entered the cottage to look for Lily and my godson, but parts of the roof had collapsed, making it hard to enter. Eventually, I found Lily's dead body in the nursery while young Harry was clutching the bars of his cot, miraculously alive. I lifted my godson out of his cot and then, I cannot remember."

"You cannot remember?" Amelia Bones repeated, one eyebrow raised in question, "would you mind clarifying your last point."

"One minute, I was holding Harry in my arms," Sirius Black began, looking slightly helpless and confused despite the Veritaserum, "the next I am following Peter. I simply cannot remember what happened in between. I think it is because of the Dementors. Some memories are just gone. Like they were sucked out of me."

For a moment, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement remained silent, her narrowed eyes fixated on the last of the Blacks, "This is most peculiar indeed."

"But not unheard of," Remus Lupin added, "given the powers of the Dementors."

A few seconds later, Amelia Bones nodded her head, "Mister Black, please continue. What do you remember once you headed after Peter Pettigrew?"

"I tracked him down in a Muggle neighbourhood. I do not know the name of the place. Never knew," Sirius Black continued, "before I could do anything, he screamed, so that everyone could hear that I had betrayed James and Lily and was now after Peter's life. Before I knew what was happening, he had fired off some sort of Blasting Curse, cut off his own finger and transformed into his Animagus form, a rat, disappearing from sight. I was so perplexed that he, who had never been the smartest, had outsmarted me. Due to the irony of the situation and the grief because of my best friend's death, I could not help but laugh. Then, the Aurors arrived."

"What did they do?" Amelia Bones asked.

"They snapped my wand on sight and magically bound and silenced me before questioning some of the surviving Muggles," the last of the Blacks explained, "I was apparated straight into the Ministry where a committee led by Bartemius Crouch Senior decided that for my crimes , I should be immediately taken to Azkaban where I was to stay for life."

"I think this is enough, Mister Black," Amelia Bones concluded, "thank you for your cooperation."

With that, the memory ended, clouding Courtroom Ten in uncomfortable silence.

"The old manipulator must have used several highly-powered Compulsion and Memory Charms," a voice in his mind suddenly said, "while Dementors can 'destroy' memories over time, they never vanish completely unless the person in question is Kissed."

A feeling of warmth flooded Harry's body upon hearing the voice of the Dark Lord.

"Somebody is coming," Tom's hushed voice filled his mind once more, "I have to go."

Before Harry could do anything, Madam Bones' voice boomed through the courtroom, "Now that we have viewed all evidence. I think it is time to vote. Given the clarity of the confessions, I think there is hardly any need to wait. Do you agree, Albus?"

"Please, go on," the Headmaster said in his grandfatherly voice, trying very hard to hide the relief that Sirius Black was not able to recall the meeting between the two of them that had forced Black to go after Pettigrew.

"Who of those present thinks that Sirius Black is guilty?" Amelia Bones asked.

None of the members of Wizengamot present moved, clearly awaiting the next question of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Who of those present thinks that Sirius Black is innocent?" the stern witch continued.

Without hesitation, all wands of those eligible to vote were lifted in the air.

The corners of Harry's lips curled upwards. This was exactly what he and Tom had planned for. They were one step closer to achieving what they had planned for.

The remainder of the Wizengamot session consisted of deciding the reparations the supposed Lord of the Black family would be receiving for his unjust incarceration. In the end, it was decided that he would receive fifty Galleons for each day he had spent at Azkaban while the medical bills for his recovery would be covered by the Ministry as well. Once the decision had been delivered, Dumbledore closed today's session of the Wizengamot.

Since neither Severus nor Harry were overly keen to interact with any members of the Wizengamot, or worse, the press, they were amongst the first to leave Courtroom Ten. Sadly, their exit was not fast enough.

"Harry, my boy," a grandfatherly voice called after him, "a word if you please."

Realising that there was no way to avoid the old manipulator, Harry simply nodded his head, signalling Dumbledore to go ahead. Having already anticipated that the conversation would most likely not take place in a public setting, Harry was not surprised as Dumbledore unlocked the door of one of the smaller courtrooms with a flick of his wand.

Once the door had been closed behind Severus, the last to enter the room, a grandfatherly smile appeared on Dumbledore's face accompanied by his trademark twinkle, "Harry, my boy, I am glad that you have found a magical guardian in Severus here. For all I can tell, he is a good man. Still, I cannot help but wonder how this change came about. I hope you forgive an old man's curiosity."

"Of course, sir," Harry replied, while forcing a bright and naïve smile on his face as he tried to prepare himself for the lie he was about to tell, "as far as the Goblins told me, they discovered a few documents on the search for evidence related to the trial of Sirius Black. Said documents hinted at his status as my godfather. At that time, I was without a magical guardian and for reasons unknown to me, the Goblins thought it was a good idea to change that. For that, they wanted to compare the documents found within Sirius' vault with those of my parents. Unfortunately, those documents could only be accessed with me there. Since I knew that I could not travel to the Gringotts alone, I asked Seve… Professor Snape for assistance. He thankfully agreed to help me. Much to our surprise, we discovered that my parents did not only name Sirius my godfather, but Severus as well. Professor, I still cannot believe that I discovered that I have two godfathers at the same day."

"Harry, I am very happy for you," the Headmaster said with a smile that was as fake as one could be, not entirely covering the underlying relief of not being discovered as Harry's previous magical guardian, "still, I cannot help but wonder about your choice of magical guardian."

Forcing an expression of surprise on his face, Harry stared at Dumbledore with big eyes, "Sir, I am afraid I cannot follow you."

"Harry," Dumbledore said, the most fake expression of concern on display on his face, "I just want what is best for you. While I do not want to imply anything, I simply wonder if Seve-"

"Why would I choose anybody else?" Harry exclaimed, thus interrupting Dumbledore's beginning monologue, "ever since I have known him, he has cared for me. He listens to me, encourages me, gives me extra lessons, and so far, has tried to help me in every way possible. My parents must have known that, too. Why would they have named him my godfather if they distrusted him?"

"My boy, I did not mean to question Severus here," the old coot tried to save himself, "I am just curious why you did not select Sirius Black."

"Black?" Harry asked, one eyebrow raised, "I have never met him. How can I trust someone when I have never interacted with them? Also, I thought it would be unwise to burden a recently released inmate of Azkaban with the task of caring for a minor. The memory Amelia Bones showed to us only facilitated my decision. Sirius Black needs time to recover, time I did not want to deny him by forcing him to leave St. Mungo's to take care of me. Surely, I want to get to know him, but for now, I think it is better to stay with Severus."

The shocked look on Dumbledore's face simply was priceless, "My boy, are you meaning to say that you are not staying with your relatives anymore?"

"Albus," Severus said, stepping forwards, placing a protective hand on the shoulder of his ward, "you cannot be serious. You know Petunia as much as I do. Ever since she received the rejection that she was not allowed to attend Hogwarts, she started to hate, not only despise, but hate everything remotely magical, especially her sister. After everything Harry told me, there is no doubt that this hate also extends to her own nephew. I have no idea how Harry ended up in Petunia's care or how he was allowed to live there for so long, but it cannot continue. He will not return there, especially now that he has a magical guardian. Harry stays with me."

"But the Blood Wards," the old manipulator tried to argue, "he needs any protec-"

"Of what use are Blood Wards if they do not protect Harry from his own relatives," the Potions Master sneered, "with me he is safe. I have not survived for so long because I am a fool. I know how to protect him, and I certainly will."

Knowing that he had lost, Dumbledore instead asked the Potions Master about his recently obtained Lordship. Amused by Severus' unforthcoming answers, Harry watched as Dumbledore's frustration grew with every less than informative answer as the Potions Master made it clear that this was a private matter. Thankfully, the conversation soon ended, and the pair finally returned home, leaving behind a puzzled yet thankfully not overtly suspicious Dumbledore. Thankfully, it seemed like the old wizard had remained ignorant to the true nature of the change of magical guardianship. After all, it would be rather counterproductive if he started to question Harry's allegiance too soon.

The Daily Prophet the next day was glorious, painting the trial of Sirius Black in the brightest colours from the front page to page seven, declaring the supposed Lord of the Black family as an innocent and unrightfully convicted scapegoat of the last war. Because of all the buzz the trial had created, Harry's first public appearance, his change of magical guardianship, and the fact that Severus had announced his status as Lord Prince all disappeared in the background, mentioned only in smaller articles hidden between the many advertisements for the newest Nimbus racing broom, magical cleaning products, and the announcement of the latest album of Celestina Warbeck. Overall, the outcome of the trial could not have been better.

On Wednesday morning, Severus Apparated them straight into the Ministry, passing a stunned Broadmoor at the security point for Wand Registration without sparing his former student a second glance.

As they entered Courtroom Ten, the atmosphere was quite different than two days before. Unlike the curious, almost hopeful expression most had worn during the trial of Sirius Black, most faces were grim as they waited for the prosecution of the true betrayer of James and Lily Potter. Taking their seats, Harry and Severus did not have to wait for long as Dumbledore opened the session of the Wizengamot only minutes later. The Chief Warlock looked tense, the furrows on his face appearing deeper than Harry had ever seen them. Still, the tension was hardly surprising. If asked the wrong question, Pettigrew could cause a lot of damage to the old man.

"Lords and Ladies," Dumbledore began, "today we are gathered here for the trial of Peter Aiden Pettigrew. Aurors, the defendant, please."

As if on command, a small door opposite the main entrance of Courtroom Ten opened, revealing Auror Shacklebolt and his trainee flanking the heavily chained traitorous Secret Keeper of the Potters. Pettigrew was quickly escorted to the centre of the room, where most of his bindings were removed before he was told to sit on the chair. Once his arms had been placed on the armrest, the magic of the chair immediately activated, binding a sniffling and whimpering Pettigrew down.

Unlike last time, Dumbledore did not turn over the floor to Amelia Bones. Instead, it seemed like the Chief Warlord would lead the trial himself. It was a clever move indeed since it would allow him to circumvent certain questions which could potentially damage the old man himself.

"Peter Aiden Pettigrew," Dumbledore started, his eyes having lost their trademark twinkle, "today you are standing in front of the Wizengamot to answer for your involvement in the murders of James and Lily Potter at the hands of the Dark Lord Voldemort. As their friend and Secret Keeper, it was your responsibility to protect their whereabouts at all costs. Since you have already confessed your guilt for betraying them under the influence of Veritaserum, let us now view the memory of your confession before deciding about your fate. Amelia, your memory, please."

Harry could have laughed out loud at the obvious plan of the old man. Instead of trying to circumvent any tricky questions by leading the interrogation himself, Dumbledore was trying to forgo a second interrogation altogether. Since the guilt of Pettigrew had already been proven, most would not bother to dig any deeper.

Once they had finished viewing Pettigrew's interrogation at the hands of Amelia Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour, and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had taken her seat, Dumbledore rose to his feet again, "Peter Pettigrew, as verified by your confession you did indeed reveal the whereabouts of James and Lily Potter to the Dark Lord Voldemort before framing Sirius Black with your doings and disappearing from sight to pose as the pet rat of the Weasleys. Do you have anything to say?"

In answer, Dumbledore only got more whimpers. Since none of the members of the Wizengamot appeared to be keen to demand more answers out of Pettigrew, the Chief Warlock put an end to the presentation of evidence, "Lords and Ladies, who of you think that Peter Pettigrew is guilty?"

All wands of those eligible to vote were lifted in the air, sealing the fate of the traitorous rat, and leading to the next part of the trial. While Pettigrew continued to whimper, the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot began discussing the rat's penalty. Because of his long list and severity of crimes - betraying the sacred honour of being a Secret Keeper, revealing the whereabouts of the Potters to the Dark Lord Voldemort, being a member of an illegal organisation, framing an innocent man with murder, the killing of several Muggles, being an unregistered Animagus, and posing as the pet of a minor - a lot of members of the Wizengamot, Dumbledore included, called for the Dementor's Kiss. Before the old coot could call for a vote, Harry lifted his wand, "Sir, might I add something? I know that I am not a member of the Wizengamot yet, but since his crimes affected me more than anyone else, I think it is my right to say something. May I?"

For a moment, the entire courtroom was silent, until Augusta Longbottom said, "He is right. We should grant him the right to speak."

Around her, many nodded their heads. Realising that there was no other choice, Dumbledore quickly forced a smile on his face, "Of course, Harry."

Rising from his seat, Harry straightened his back, "Thank you, Chief Warlock. As many of you already know, his betrayal took my parents from me, the chance for a normal childhood, and so much more you cannot possibly imagine. His crimes cannot and should not be excused. Still, I think that the Dementor's Kiss is the wrong punishment. Inste-"

"Tha… thank you, Ha… Harry!" Pettigrew exclaimed, his words shrill, "you… you are just like James. He, too, would have shown mercy. Thank you."

"Do not say his name in front of me, traitor," Harry hissed, sneering at the rat, "it is not mercy that I am calling for. Granting you the Dementor's Kiss would have been mercy since it would have ended your punishment the moment your soul would have left your body. It would have been too quickly. Instead, I think you should suffer at least as long as my godfather and I have suffered, preferably much longer while under the influence of the Dementors of Azkaban. Therefore, I urge you, Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot, to reconsider your choice. Thank you for allowing me to speak."

Courtroom Ten once again fell silent as Harry took his seat. Moments later, fiery discussions began to erupt all over the ranks. In the end, most of those eligible for voting lifted their wands in favour of life imprisonment, thus granting Harry his wishes, while only a handful of witches and wizards, Dumbledore included, voted for the Dementor's Kiss.

Once Pettigrew had been removed, Dumbledore cleared his throat, "Now that we have finally discovered the truth and justice has been served, I think it is time to close tod-"

Stopping dead in his tracks, the eyes of the Chief Warlock were glued on the single raised wand in the courtroom, "Augusta, how can I help you."

"I have an important announcement to make," the Lady of the Longbottom estate spoke as she rose to her feet, her grandson by her side, "over the course of the last few days we have discovered that not everything seems as it appears. During the last war, witches and wizards were sent to Azkaban without receiving proper trials. We should know better than that. If not, what makes us better than them? Because of our ignorance, innocent people are suffering while the true perpetrators are allowed to roam unpunished. I am aware that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is currently attempting to remedy their past actions as they are trying to determine if more people were treated just like Sirius Black. Due to my own investigations, I can say for certain that I am just as affected as Heir Potter. Just like him, the ones who have harmed my family never received a proper trial. I am old. I want to sleep peacefully once and for all, knowing who truly tortured my son and my daughter in law. Therefore, I officially request a trial for Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Bellatrix Lestrange to determine their true involvement in the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom. So mote it be."

Following her words, Courtroom Ten erupted into a sea of chaos.

Leaning back in his chair, Harry watched everything unfold. In the end, Dumbledore somehow managed to quiet everybody. After a heated discussion between Augusta herself, Corvus Lestrange, representatives from the Light, Neutral, and Dark faction of the Wizengamot, and several high-ranking Ministry officials, it was decided that the trial would take place in two weeks' time. Before Dumbledore could finally close today's Wizengamot session, the main entrance of Courtroom Ten was thrown open, revealing a breathless Ministry worker sprinting into the room, "Excuse my interruption. I am here to fetch Lord Prince as your presence is demanded at Gringotts. An underage wizard has been discovered in the Muggle world. According to the results of the Inheritance Ritual he underwent, he is a Prince."

Opposite of Harry, Dumbledore's jaw dropped.