Chapter 15 – Sweet Freedom

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said as he plopped down beside her on their favorite sofa in the common room. It was still fairly early and the room was still mostly deserted; Fleur and their other friends had yet to make an appearance.

"Hi Harry," Hermione said with a smile, before she turned back to her book.

Harry smiled at her, noting to himself that seeing Hermione without a book in her hands was the same as a unicorn without a horn.

He studied her surreptitiously, wondering if he should say something to her. Contrary to popular belief, Harry was not truly unobservant—he merely did not always interpret the evidence before him in a correct manner. This defect was especially exacerbated in the case of anything of a family or interpersonal nature, mostly due to his upbringing with the Dursleys. The Dursleys were not an overly demonstrative family; other than their sickening—and rather contrived, Harry felt—displays of affection for Dudley, Harry had rarely been able to discern anything in their actions which even displayed the barest of affection for each other, never mind anyone else. As such, growing up in such an environment and doing his best to avoid their notice, and consequently any unpleasantness, Harry was not precisely equipped to be an expert on relationships and the common signs most people unconsciously showed which betrayed their true emotions.

The past few weeks, though, Ron's display had been so blatant that Harry could not imagine that a blind man would have been unable to see through it. Harry would have noticed even if Ron had not approached him to ask his feelings about Hermione. And given the words which had been exchanged the evening before, and the way that Fleur had practically dragged him away from his two closest friends, it appeared that Ron had finally worked up the courage to ask Hermione out.

In truth, Harry was of two minds about the development. They were his closest friends, and he wanted them to be happy. However, with all the fighting they did, he was not sure that they would work as a couple, and did not wish to become caught between them as had so often happened in the past. Of paramount importance, however, was the fact that Harry could not stand to see Hermione hurt…

"Something on your mind, Harry?"

Broken out of his reverie, Harry noted Hermione's knowing smile; obviously he had not been as subtle as he had thought. Hermione was too observant for her own good.

"I was just wondering if I should be congratulating you this morning."

Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion. "For what, Harry?"

"You know…" he trailed off, making vague hand gestures. "You and Ron?"

At that Hermione burst out laughing, causing Harry some confusion in turn. "What?"

"Oh, Harry, I think you may have mistaken a few things."

By now Harry was completely perplexed. Had he truly misunderstood the situation that badly? "Ron didn't ask you out?"

"He did, but I told him I don't see him like that," was Hermione's response. "I mean, can you imagine us as a couple? I'd be hexing him before the end of the honeymoon!"

Grinning, Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Personally, I would have guessed before the end of the reception, but I'll bow to your superior knowledge. And I'll have you know that I may be a little more observant than you think. Ron's actions the past few weeks haven't exactly been subtle."

"No they haven't," Hermione agreed. "But if you're so observant, I would have thought you would have seen how little encouragement I gave him."

Thinking about it for a moment, Harry understood what Hermione was telling him. "I may not have noticed as you say, but I was trying not to step on Ron's toes, in my own defense. I also wasn't convinced you would be good together, but I thought that you might actually give him a chance."

"I can't," was Hermione's prim response. "You know how he can be. If I had agreed he would almost have considered me to be his property. If I so much as talked with another boy he would get jealous, and when it came time to break up with him—which would happen, sooner rather than later—it would have been almost impossible to get him to let go. It's better this way."

Harry held his hands out in surrender. "I understand, Hermione. Obviously you've given this a lot of thought. You do know that he'll be put out, at least for the time being."

A sigh met his declaration. "I know that Harry, but it's best to get this out of the way now so we can continue to be friends."

She was quietly contemplative for several moments and Harry, sensing that she had more to say and was trying to interpret her own feelings, allowed her to think. He had never been in such a situation before—it could not be an easy one.

"I didn't want to hurt him," she finally confided in a soft voice. "He is my friend, regardless of how he has acted at times. I tried to let him down easily and explain to him how poorly suited we were; I'm sure I had him thinking at the end, but I'm well aware that he will need to work it all through in his own mind before he will begin to accept it."

"You did the right thing," said Harry.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "Is this coming from Harry Potter, the new student of the human heart?"

"No," he responded, not being drawn into her playful words. "It's just Harry Potter, who has an appreciation for his friend and understands that she knows what she wants."

At his statement a shadow passed across Hermione's face, and she blushed and ducked her head in apparent embarrassment. Harry was dumbfounded—he had only said the truth, had he not? She had rejected Ron's advances because she was certain they would not work; was she second-guessing her decision?

It was better for him to ignore it, he decided. If she wished to confide in him the reason for her sudden reaction, he had no doubt she would. Until then, he would give her enough space to work it out for herself.

True to Harry's prediction, Ron was distant that day, and for several more to come. He was not precisely petulant; he seemed, rather, to be unusually pensive and thoughtful, and though he peered at Hermione at times and appeared to be decidedly unhappy, Harry had the distinct impression that he was much more reflective than resentful. Harry was simply glad that he was not required to referee again between them, as he had thought would have been the result of such an event.

Fleur, however, appeared to be a constant comfort for Hermione, and given his betrothed's actions the previous night, he suspected that Fleur was not only well aware of what had occurred between Ron and Hermione, but that she had actively been giving counsel to Hermione. Harry hoped that Ron never realized that as Harry suspected that Fleur's advice had not been in Ron's favor. That would not likely endear her to the redhead, regardless of how starry-eyed he still sometimes became due to the effects of her allure.

They sat companionably, the earlier solemn subject of conversation now forgotten in favor of lighter topics, until Fleur had joined them in the common room. When they made their way down to the Great Hall, they found a rather unwelcome surprise waiting for them outside their destination—something unexpected which caused them to stop and take notice.

Attached to the wall at the side of the entrance to the Great Hall were several large wooden cases, locked with large, old-fashioned padlocks. The cases each had a glass door set into their casings, showing yellowed parchments inside. The trio looked at one another and approached the boxes, looking inside the one closest to the door. It read in big, block script:

Proclamation
Educational Decree #1
For their own safety, all students enrolled at Hogwarts shall not be allowed to cast dangerous hexes and curses. Any student found in contravention of this decree shall be expelled.

"What is an educational decree?" asked Fleur after some moments.

"I don't know," was Hermione's response. "I've never seen or heard of anything like this."

A quick investigation showed that the other cases held similar Educational Decrees, though none were as serious as the first. In fact, most of the others were somewhat silly, ranging from the allowed amount of paper and quills to be carried in one's bag, to the required quantity of socks to be owned by each student, to the prohibition of any "unapproved sweets," though just exactly what constituted unapproved was not stated.

The trio exchanged another glance before they entered the Great Hall and sat about halfway down the length of the table. They ate their breakfast, discussing what they had seen in a quiet manner. In time, all the members of the group had joined them at their table; none of them had missed the proclamations on their way in.

It was the work of but a moment to come to the consensus agreement that the decrees must be the work of Umbridge, and likely constituted the beginnings of her attempt to enforce the ministry's authority over the school.

As Hermione said, "She has really not done much of anything yet, other than refuse to teach us anything, and somehow I doubt that that is what Fudge had in mind when he sent her here."

Sage nods met her declaration but Harry frowned. "But what is she up to? A few stupid declarations will hardly allow her to discredit Dumbledore."

It was of course a question which no one could answer. For Umbridge to truly take control of the school—if that was her objective—then she would need to do away with Dumbledore in some manner, and no one here could see how she could possibly accomplish such a feat. Harry's trial had backfired seriously on the Minister, and Dumbledore's popularity—not to mention Harry's—had not suffered the serious hit that Fudge no doubt intended. She would have to prove him somehow unsuited for the position, or directly in violation of school charter or Ministry law, a task which appeared difficult to pull off, given Dumbledore's years of service and his record which, by any standard, was exemplary. It was not like she could just challenge him to a duel—no one with their head on straight could possibly consider a frumpy, dumpy little woman with an obsessive fondness for pink to be the equal of the famed defeater of Grindelwald.

They went to their classes after breakfast with no further inclination as to what Umbridge could be trying to accomplish, but possessed of a determination to watch her very carefully.

As the day wore on, Harry found that his mind could not stay focused on such mundane thoughts, as another more important event was looming on the horizon. The next day was to be Sirius's trial, and for the remainder of the day, Harry became more and more distracted. Not so distracted, however, that he did not notice his friends' reactions. Fleur and Hermione were, if anything, even more affectionate and understanding than they would normally be, while most of his other friends—excluding Ron, of course, who was largely keeping to himself—just murmured their support and allowed him his thoughts. Harry was grateful for their forbearance and understanding.

His distraction became even worse the following morning. As the trial was not scheduled to begin until two hours after noon, they still had to attend their morning classes. Unfortunately, that morning was potions and Harry, not wishing to bring Snape down on him for any reason, forced himself to at least pay a modicum of attention. Luckily, there was no brewing that day—Mondays were generally reserved for brewing, while Thursday was Snape's theory and preparation day—so Harry did not have to try to create a working brew, which he knew would have failed spectacularly, given the circumstances. And Snape, perhaps understanding Harry's anxiety—or perhaps still remembering his recent set down—largely left Harry to himself.

One event which surprised most of the students present occurred as the class was ending. Apparently the difference in Harry's normal routine was noticed from an unwelcome quarter—one who had no problem heckling Harry over it.

"Hey Scarface," the annoying tones of Draco Malfoy's voice rang out over the room while the students were packing up. "What's the matter? Your doxy won't put out for you?"

Harry spun around, the need to regulate his emotions instantly forgotten. He was ready to slam Malfoy's teeth down his throat when another voice interrupted him.

"That will be enough, Mr. Malfoy."

The entire class stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at the potions master. Was Snape actually defending Harry Potter?

No less astonished was the cause of the disturbance himself. The boy's eyes were wide open and his mouth appeared about ready to hit the floor. "Professor—"

Snape's eyebrow rose, neatly cutting whatever the Malfoy scion was about to say. "Was I unclear? You will not use unacceptable language while you are in my classroom."

Several emotions seemed to pass over Malfoy's face all at once, not the least of which included shock, embarrassment and rage. Finally he turned his attention away from the professor who had just set him down for perhaps the first time, and threw his books into his pack far more forcefully than was required.

"Crabbe! Goyle! Let's get out of here!" he snapped as he stalked from the room, forcing the two goons to hurry to catch him.

Harry turned toward Professor Snape, his face carefully neutral, and nodded to the man when he saw the other returning his gaze. Snape's only response was a tight nod of his own, before he turned and strode into his office, cloak billowing behind him.

"I never though I'd see the day," Ron blurted.

Agreeing with him wholeheartedly, Harry accompanied his friends from the room and toward the Great Hall for lunch, while thinking about Snape's words to Malfoy. Obviously, the bat was still on what passed for his best behavior; otherwise he would simply have sat back and watched the confrontation with glee. It did not escape Harry's attention, however, that Snape had only reprimanded Malfoy for his language, and not for the sentiments he expressed. Clearly the changes in the man only went so far.

An hour later, the three friends said good-bye to everyone else and made their way toward Dumbledore's office, where they would Floo to the Ministry. At first, Dumbledore had been disinclined to allow Hermione's attendance. Fleur was allowed because her father was involved and she was Harry's betrothed, but Hermione was no relation to Harry or to Sirius. However, the Headmaster was persuaded to relent when Harry correctly pointed out that she had been an integral part of Sirius's rescue at the end of third year, and thus, was connected to him in an important way.

They arrived in the office, returning Dumbledore's affable greeting, and moment and a quick Floo trip later, they were all making their way through the Ministry building toward the courtrooms on the tenth level.

It was different, Harry reflected, to see courtroom number ten from the vantage point of the gallery. The last time he had been in that room, he had been front and center and had not had much time to survey the surroundings. However, one thing he could detect was a much different atmosphere than he remembered from two months earlier. For one thing, the air of implacability which Fudge had injected into Harry's trial had been replaced by curiosity. Sirius Black had been a rather large figure in magical England for some time, after all. He was the rumored betrayer of the Potters, and by extension the Boy-Who-Lived, who had then escaped not only from Azkaban, but from Hogwarts when he was due to be kissed, and then had his innocence summarily declared at Harry's trial. The interest level in this trial was incredibly high.

They had only been seated for a moment when Jean-Sebastian entered the room. Spying them, he stepped forward and engulfed his daughter in a hug, and then slapped Harry's back and nodded at Hermione.

"You all are looking… eager today," he said with a grin.

Harry could not help the bashful feeling which swept over him, causing Jean-Sebastian to laugh.

"Do not worry, Harry. Sirius will walk from this courtroom today a free man. I've already seen him questioned under Veritaserum, as you recall. I know he's innocent, even if I hadn't already known."

Harry rolled his eyes at his new protector, but Jean-Sebastian simply smirked and left them to join Dumbledore on the floor of the courtroom.

"He's right, Harry," Hermione said softly from his side. "There's nothing to worry about."

From his other side, Fleur reached out and grasped his hand. "Veritaserum cannot be beaten, Harry."

Gratefully, Harry nodded his appreciation for their support. But that did not help him from feeling nervous. Of course not.

In a small anteroom off the main courtroom, Sirius Black waited, and though he was not aware of the fact, he was every bit as nervous as his godson. Sirius knew he was innocent—he had clung to that truth with an almost fanatical fervency since he had come to his senses at the beginning of those horrible years in Azkaban. The thought of his innocence, along with the protection his Animagus form afforded him, had kept him sane all those years. Of course, Moony and Prongs would have claimed otherwise when it came to the subject of his sanity…

Smiling, Sirius thought of his friends, and how they had planned to storm the world and make it a better place. Their unique backgrounds—James with his status as the heir of an old and respected house, Sirius as the rebellious scion of a historically dark house, and Remus who had been ostracized his entire life for a condition which was not his fault—gave them—or so they felt—the necessary insight into the evils of their society. Things must change or their world was in danger of becoming an anachronism and collapsing in on itself.

Even though many years had passed since James's death and the acute ache of his passing had dulled with the passage of time, Sirius could still feel an empty hole where James's presence had once been, and he knew Moony felt the same. In some respects, Harry had begun to fill that hole, though Sirius knew he would never fully be able to do so. Harry was different from James, and would therefore occupy a different location in Sirius's heart than James had.

But perhaps all their dreams were not dead. Harry was a bright and exceptional person, and perhaps with his help, not to mention the assistance of his fame and influence—which was not inconsiderable—they could still realize their dreams. Harry, Sirius was certain, had not yet begun to think of what would happen after Voldemort was defeated; all of his thoughts and energy were bent toward that one goal, not to mention the need to survive the coming difficulties. Sirius, based on the thoughts and plans he had had with his friends, wanted to change their society, and was certain that once he shared his thoughts, Harry would agree. This did not even mention the enthusiasm the little Muggleborn girl he always hung out with would bring. She would, no doubt, see even more clearly that Harry that the wizarding world needed to change if they were to survive and do away with the conditions which contributed to the rise of several previous dark lords.

One thing Sirius knew beyond all others, however, was that James and Lily were still looking down on their son. And he knew their greatest wish was that regardless of his mistakes—specifically that of chasing after Pettigrew when he should have concerned himself with Harry—that Sirius finally take his role of Harry's defender, with Moony occupying a large role in the young man's life as well. And that was what Sirius was determined to do. After he was declared a free man, of course…

Turning his attention to the matter at hand, Sirius thought of the upcoming trial. Trials in the magical world were not the same as the descriptions of those in the Muggle world he had heard from Lily. They were both more efficient and more effective than those the Muggles held, due to their ability to use magic to determine the truth. This was a trial in front of the entire Wizengamot, and though Sirius would have an advocate—Jean-Sebastian had agreed to take the role as they had decided Dumbledore would be of more use running the trial as Chief Warlock—it would not be the advocate's responsibility to prove his client's innocence. If the case was important or sensational enough—which his was in spades, on both accounts—the release of Veritaserum would be authorized and the person on trial would be compelled magically to either convict or acquit himself.

Unfortunately, what was not admissible was Sirius's conviction that Peter was the actual betrayer of Lily and James. A person could only speak what they believed to be the truth, which was why Veritaserum could not be used in testimony against anyone else.

In other words, Sirius was not Peter, and as he was not Peter, he could not know Peter's thoughts, feelings or motivations, and therefore only Peter could convict himself under the influence of Veritaserum.

Now, the fact that Sirius had been present when Lily cast the Fidelius and saw her make Pettigrew the secret keeper would be damning, as would the subsequent events that led to the Potters' deaths. However, since Sirius had immediately left James and Lily and had not returned until after their deaths, he could not say for certain that the secret keeper had not been changed once again. After all, they had used one piece of misdirection—who was to say James and Lily had not done it once again?

His testimony was, however, enough evidence that a warrant would be issued for the arrest of the traitorous rat. Some day, he would be made to pay for his crimes against James and Lily. In Sirius's mind, this was Marauder justice—betrayal would be met with the harshest penalty possible.

The door opened and into the room stepped an Auror—one whom he would have known well, if he had been free instead of in Azkaban.

"Sirius, it's time," Nymphadora Tonks said, her hair flickering to a solemn black from the platinum blond she had originally sported.

"Hello, Dora," he responded.

She stared at him hard, no doubt wondering if this new nickname he had come up with for her was intended to tease.

"What, would you prefer that I call you Nymphy?" Sirius asked with a chuckle

"Certainly not!" Tonks snapped, sending Sirius into even greater peals of laughter.

"Then you'll have to put up with it. It's certainly a lot better than you ridiculously insisting that everyone call you by your last name."

The newly christened Dora's expression became even darker. But she said nothing, only motioning him to the door. Sirius stood and walked towards the door, stopping when he had reached his cousin.

"Thanks, Dora," he said. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you better."

She cocked her head to one side. "My mother always had good things to say about you, Sirius. She never believed that you were guilty."

Sirius smiled. "I always said Andy was the best of her sisters. Thank you."

Turning, Sirius walked out through the hallway and into the courtroom, holding his head high, while Dora and another Auror flanked him on either side. Feeling the eyes of everyone in the chamber bearing down on him, Sirius, calling up a hint of the old Marauder spirit, directed a saucy wave at the Minister, before smiling at Harry and the two girls by his godson's side. The smile was returned somewhat nervously by the young man, but with real hope shining in his eyes. Sirius vowed right there to be worthy of his godson's hope.

The Minister was clearly not amused. He sat there, leaning back in his seat, gazing petulantly at the display Sirius was making. The Minister truly had no political skin in the game when it came to Sirius's imprisonment—he had not been the Minister when Sirius had been imprisoned, and thus could not be held responsible, unless one counted the negligence which had kept anyone in any position of power from reviewing his case, and Fudge was not the only one guilty of that oversight. It appeared that the Minister's displeasure stemmed more from his connection to Harry Potter. Anything which benefitted Harry was anathema in his eyes.

Approaching the center of the room where Jean-Sebastian waited, Sirius instantly noticed the chair with its restraints, which he remembered from his own time as an Auror, was missing, and a straight-backed wooden chair had replaced it. He raised his eyebrow at Jean-Sebastian in question.

"I would not allow Harry to sit in that demeaning chair; do you think I would allow you to do so?" he queried good-naturedly.

"I'm surprised Fudge allowed it."

Jean-Sebastian snorted with some disdain. "In this instance he did not have much of a choice or any real reason to argue. Your absence has left you less than informed, but this trial is almost being considered a formality. Madam Bones felt there was no need for restraints, as you were turning yourself in for trial."

"I always knew I liked her," said Sirius, with a smile for the Bones matron. She returned it, before returning to her conversation with Dumbledore.

As Sirius took his seat in the chair, the courtroom quieted and the attention moved to the Chief Warlock who was now standing to begin the proceedings.

"Ladies, Gentlemen of the Wizengamot, I believe we are ready to begin. I call this trial for Sirius Black in session." He peered down at Sirius with a slight smile on his face. "Thank you for giving yourself up to the judgment of this court."

"Of course, Chief Warlock," replied Sirius. "I am very interested in having my name cleared, and resuming my place in this society."

"Very well. We shall begin." Dumbledore motioned toward Madam Bones. "Director, if you will."

Madam Bones rose to her feet and took her place before the lectern. "Sirius Orion Black, you are called today before Wizengamot of Great Britain to answer to the charges brought against you. Those charges include the betrayal of James Potter, Lily Potter and Harry Potter to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and thereby causing the deaths of Lily and James. You have also been charged with the killing of Peter Pettigrew and the murder of thirteen Muggles during your confrontation with the aforementioned Peter Pettigrew. How do you plead?"

"Innocent of all charges, Madam Director," said Sirius.

"Mr. Black," she responded, peering down at him severely through her monocle, "you understand that the release of Veritaserum has been authorized, and that you will be magically compelled to prove your innocence?"

"I do." Sirius's eyes became a little misty for a moment as he remembered his fallen friend. "James Potter was my closest friend growing up, and by my seventh year, Lily was like a sister. I would have turned a killing curse on myself before I hurt either of them."

Madam Bones's scrutiny continued for several seconds before she motioned the nearby Aurors. "Very well then. Auror Dawlish, if you will administer the Veritaserum please."

It was a quirk of Veritaserum—or perhaps it was so designed—but it was known that the counter-agent could not be taken before the truth agent. If taken in the wrong order, Veritaserum and the counter-agent would form a highly toxic poison, from which a person could only be saved if the attention of a highly skilled healer or a bezoar was available immediately. That was why a defendant was not tested first for the counter-agent—the effects were well known.

Tilting his head back, Sirius allowed the Auror to place the requisite three drops on his tongue. He felt the haze of the Veritaserum take effect immediately—he was still in command of his faculties and was completely aware, but any falsehood he might have harbored disappeared from his mind. He could not even think up a lie, which was why the truth agent was so powerful—it did not affect the speech of the recipient, rather it affected their very mind, will, and being, and no known potion or force of will was able to defeat it.

He focused on Madam Bones as she peered at him. After a moment, she appeared to be satisfied that the potion had taken affect.

"Please state your name."

"Sirius Orion Black."

"Very well, Mr. Black. Did you, on the night of October 31, 1981, betray James, Lily and Harry Potter to You-Know-Who with the intent of causing their deaths?"

"No." Sirius wanted to say more, but the power of the truth serum was forcing him to reply only to the question asked.

"Were you secret keeper to their location?"

"No."

"Why were you thought to be their secret keeper?"

"James and I thought that I was the obvious choice," Sirius responded, happy to finally be able to tell his story. "We let it be known that I was to be the secret keeper, but we switched at the last moment to Peter Pettigrew."

"Why did you do this?"

"Misdirection. You-Know-Who would concentrate on finding me, while Peter would be able to go into hiding. No one would ever suspect James of entrusting his safety to Peter, as he was not known to be the most competent or courageous of wizards."

"Were you actually present during the casting of the charm?"

"I was."

"And what of the charges of killing Peter Pettigrew? Did you kill him?"

"No."

"Then how was he able to make it seem that you had? What happened during your confrontation?"

"When I cornered Peter, he was holding his wand behind his back. He yelled at me, accusing me of betraying James and Lily, and cast a blasting curse which tore through a pipe and caused an explosion which killed the Muggles. Then he cut off his own finger to make it appear like the rest of his body had been consumed in the blast and disapparated."

"Why didn't you tell this to the Aurors who apprehended you?"

"I was disoriented by the explosion, and by the time I came to my senses, I was already inside my cell at Azkaban."

Madam Bones regarded him for a long moment before she continued. "And what of your escape from Azkaban? Why did you escape? And if you were able to escape, why did you wait so long?"

"I became desperate when learned that Peter Pettigrew was close to Harry. It was that desperation which drove me to attempt it."

"How did learn of this?" Madam Bones interrupted.

"During the Minister's annual tour of Azkaban, he left me with a copy of his Daily Prophet. I saw a picture of Peter Pettigrew with the Weasleys, and knowing he would be at Hogwarts this year, I knew I had to get close to Harry to protect him."

"I seem to remember that edition," said Madam Bones with a frown. "The picture of the Weasley family was on the front cover, yet it would have been obvious that a man believed to be dead for over a decade could not have openly appeared in the picture. Yet you claim you saw him?"

"Yes."

"Please explain."

"Peter Pettigrew is a rat animagus. I saw him in the picture perched on Ronald Weasley's shoulder."

The Director's nodded thoughtfully. "Are you saying that Peter Pettigrew lived as a rat with the Weasley family since his apparent demise?"

"I have no knowledge of how and when he came to be living with the Weasleys. However, I am positive it was him."

"How can you be certain?" Madam Bones pressed.

"I have seen the rat in his animagus form many times, Madam Bones," Sirius responded, a hint of dryness entering his voice regardless of the truth agent. "Besides that, he was also missing a toe on his left forepaw, which is the hand which Peter cut his finger off. I also saw him at Hogwarts in his human form."

"So you went to Hogwarts to protect Harry?"

"Yes, but also to capture or kill the rat if I could."

"Let's return to your escape. How did you manage it?"

"I changed into my animagus form and squeezed through the bars of my cell."

Her eyebrows rose. "You are an animagus as well?"

"Yes."

"And what is your form?"

"A black grim."

"That's not ironic at all," Madam Bones responded in a dry manner. "A grim with the name Sirius Black—that's something one could hardly have planned had you even attempted to do so. Do you not agree?"

"Yes," Sirius said. "My friends certainly teased me often enough for it."

"What did you do then?"

"I evaded the Dementors—which wasn't difficult, as they practically ignored me as a dog—then I swam ashore."

"Is that how you continued to evade the Dementors who were sent to apprehend you?"

"It is."

Halting her questioning there, Madam Bones peered about the room, before stopping at Dumbledore. "Chief Warlock, I believe that I have no further questions to ask Mr. Black at this time, though I would ask that he meet with me at a later date, as I would like to ask him some further questions, which perhaps should not be made public. In addition, I would recommend that we begin the search for the whereabouts of Peter Pettigrew."

Dumbledore rose and signaled to Dawlish, who immediately administered the counter agent. Immediately, Sirius felt the compulsion to tell the truth wane.

"I trust the information I provided was what you were looking for?" he asked cheekily.

A murmur of laughter swept over the assembled members, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled madly.

"I believe so, Mr. Black."

Dumbledore's gaze then swept over the courtroom. "Is there anyone who wishes to say anything further before we take a vote?"

Though Dumbledore addressed the entire room, he directed his gaze at Fudge who, although he appeared to be less than pleased with the proceedings, made no comment—clearly there was to be no outburst from the Minister regarding the matter.

"In that case, I move that in light of Mr. Black's testimony under the influence of Veritaserum, that the charges against him be dropped. I believe the evidence is convincing enough to eschew a vote in favor of a proclamation by general acclamation. Does anyone object?"

Sirius grinned at the Chief Warlock. A proclamation by general acclamation was considered to be superior to a unanimous vote, as the evidence was deemed so airtight that a vote was not required. No one would ever question his exoneration, and the Ministry reparations would likely be substantially higher based on this development.

When no one spoke, Dumbledore banged his gavel against the desk. "So proclaimed. Sirius Black, we find you not guilty of all charges against you."

A whoop of joy sounded from Harry's direction, and Dumbledore allowed himself an indulgent smile at the young man. "I will not keep you much longer, as I understand there will be quite a celebration occurring tonight. However, there is one other matter to discuss.

"Through the course of today's testimony, we have learned that you have broken the law in at least one instance. For failing to register yourself as an animagus, the penalty is normally a stay in Azkaban. In light of the fact that you have already spent a considerable amount of time there, I believe we can rule that your sentence has already been served. However, the court will give you sixty days to present yourself at the Ministry and register yourself, or other action may be taken against you. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"As for any reparations in the matter of your unjust imprisonment, perhaps we should confront that matter at another time? Do you agree?"

Sirius smirked and looked at the Minister, who appeared as though he had swallowed something rather unpleasant. "I believe that is acceptable to me, Chief Warlock. Please inform me of the appropriate time, and I will meet with you and the Minister.

"And Madam Bones," he continued, turning his attention to the Director of Law Enforcement, "I would be more than happy to meet with you at any time convenient. Please owl me and we can set up a time."

Madam Bones nodded, while Dumbledore peered about the room. "Does anyone in the august body have anything else to add at this time?"

Again, after a moment of silence, Dumbledore banged his gavel and dismissed the assembled.

Standing up from his chair, a beaming Sirius caught his godson in a hug, as Harry ran to him the moment the gavel sounded.

"Hey there, Pup! Didn't you have any faith in me?"

"In you, yes," Harry replied. He cast a significant look at Fudge. "Not in him."

"Even he is bound by the laws. He may try to circumvent them, but in the end the procedure in this case was clear, and there was nothing he could do to derail it without looking bad himself."

"I'm just happy it's over," said Harry.

"So am I, Pup. So am I."

They reconvened at the Ambassador's manor shortly after Sirius was pronounced free, and were treated to a celebratory dinner cooked up by the Delacour house elves. The atmosphere was jubilant, and the company was able to relax now that the specter of the manhunt for Sirius had been removed.

Among the subjects discussed that night were the events of the early school year, which was of particular interest to both Sirius and the Delacours. And though they were both displeased at the antics of Madam Umbridge—and to a lesser extent Professor Snape—they were also pleased with the way the students had handled the matters thus far and the support the Headmaster had given them. Sirius in particular was interested in the report of Harry's confrontation with Snape, and the manner in which Snape had reprimanded Draco that very morning. He warned them to watch out for the greasy git—he did not think the man's behavior would continue, nor did he think that the man had changed to any degree. The fact that all appeared to be well thus far did not stop the adults from cautioning the teens once again and reminding them that they were available at any time, should either professor become a serious problem.

The decision was also made that Sirius would return to France to continue his treatment and rehabilitation for the years of malnutrition and mental distress he had suffered during his time in Azkaban. Harry in particular was unhappy that Sirius would not be nearby, but as Jean-Sebastian pointed out, Harry would have to return to school and Sirius would not be able to be nearby anyway. Sirius promised that he would see them at Christmas, and expressed his hope that he would be able to return to England by the time the New Year rolled around. He also told Harry he hoped to be able to take up his guardianship as soon as possible, and begin to fulfill the responsibility which James and Lily had entrusted to him. Needless to say, that suggestion was accepted enthusiastically by Harry.

The evening was a balm to them all, and laughter and high spirits rang out throughout the manor. However, as all good things must end, their time that evening came to a close when the Headmaster collected them for the return to Hogwarts. After saying their good byes, they returned to the school via the Floo. It had been a good day—one of the best, in Harry's opinion.

At Hogwarts, Ron Weasley was not in as festive a mood as his friends were at the ambassador's manor.

If Ron were to be honest with himself, what he was feeling at that particular moment was petulance. Hermione, the girl he had been dreaming about for most of the previous year, and had finally gathered the courage to ask out, had rejected him out of hand. Sure his ego was bruised, but even more, he felt heartsick. Why did she not like him back?

Hermione had denied it, but Ron was not so blind that he did not see more of her feelings than she thought. And what Ron was certain he saw, was that Hermione still harbored feelings for Harry. He was sure of it, and the fact of the matter was that he was more than a little jealous of his best friend. Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, defeater of Voldemort and all around famous bloke had the affections of the one girl Ron Weasley wanted to like him. It was all so unfair, especially since Harry could not do anything about it, being betrothed to Fleur Delacour.

A small part of Ron's mind niggled at him, telling him that that was not precisely true. Harry was able to have more than one wife, after all, and though Hermione was a Muggleborn, and therefore needed to tread carefully in the matter, he would not be surprised if her love for Harry was enough to help her overcome her socially-induced distaste for a multiple marriage enough to agree to become a second wife.

How did Harry get all the luck anyway? A beautiful bird like Fleur already sewn up and a wonderful girl like Hermione infatuated with him.

But even as Ron's jealousy spiked he felt ashamed of himself. Harry was not the kind of guy to lord what he had over everyone else—in fact, he was quite the opposite. He never wanted his fame; it had been thrust upon him. And if Hermione was truly in love with Harry, then Harry was a guy who truly deserved a girl like her, much as it pained Ron to admit it.

The more he thought about it, the more Ron was convinced that there was nothing he could do about the situation. To make a big fuss over Hermione's rejection not only meant risking her friendship, but risking Harry's as well. He was certain Harry would not tolerate anyone hurting Hermione, best friend or no. And the last thing Ron wanted was a repeat of last year…

And who knew? Maybe Hermione was only infatuated with Harry. Maybe she would grow out of it. She was still only sixteen, after all; how many people actually found a true love at such a tender age?

The thought rang hollow for Ron the instant it entered his mind. Hermione was very mature and well beyond her years in many was, not the least of which was her intelligence and her emotional maturity. Though her feelings still may turn out to be nothing more than teenage infatuation, Ron felt it was something more—it had always been something more. They had been a trio since that Halloween night during first year, but in truth, Ron had always known subconsciously that he orbited around the two of them, rather than the three orbiting around each other. It had always been Harry and Hermione, and it likely would have only been Harry and Hermione, had the betrothal contract with Fleur not interfered.

No, the sooner he accepted the reality of the situation, the better, as it would allow him to get things back to normal. Having come to the decision, Ron was rather proud of his own emotional maturity—it was certainly better than he had behaved the previous year.

Besides, Hermione's last words to him about their suitability for each other still echoed in his head. Was she correct? It was something he would have to think about in greater detail when the time came, but for now her rejection was still a little too raw. There would be time enough for that later.

Thoughts of the events of the previous year once more put Ron into a pensive mood. Hermione was right—though Harry had immediately forgiven him, they had never actually discussed what had happened, and he could now see it had affected their relationship. And though he knew it would be uncomfortable, he knew he had to speak with Harry about it and apologize for his behavior. Nothing else would do.

Having come to a determination, Ron felt lighter than he had in months. He would wait until the appropriate time, but he would have a conversation with Harry. Harry deserved it as his closest friend.

Taking note once again of his surroundings, Ron saw that the common room appeared pretty empty. The hour was getting late and though he had thought to wait up for Harry's return, he now felt that maybe he had better head to bed. He would once again rejoin the group tomorrow.

He was about to push himself up from the sofa, when Fred and George sat down on either side of him, their faces lit up with their usual laughing grins. Ron peered suspiciously back and forth at the two jokesters—usually when they acted in this manner, they had something up their sleeves which would inevitably turn out to be embarrassing, and sometimes painful.

"Good evening, Ron," said one.

"How are you this fine evening?" said the other.

Ron glared at his brothers. "What do you want?"

"Hey, is that any way to speak to your favorite brothers?"

"It's almost as though he doesn't trust us, Forge."

"Hmm… Where do you think he came by that attitude?"

"Please, I was just about to go to bed," Ron complained, knowing that if he allowed it, they could keep up their banter almost indefinitely.

"Far be it for us to deny you your beauty sleep, Ronnie. But you've appeared to be a little down and distant the past couple of days."

"We thought we'd see if there was anything we could do to help."

"I'm fine," Ron answered gruffly. "Nothing wrong with me that a little sleep won't cure."

Unfortunately, the two pranksters did not take the hint.

"I would have thought you'd be on top of the world, Ron," said Gred, going by the fact that he had already called the other Forge. In truth, it generally did not matter which twin was which, as they generally answered to each other's names, and almost seemed to know what the other was thinking.

"Why?"

"Well, you've been using the book we gave you, right?" replied Forge. "By now you should have the delectable Miss Granger eating out of the palm of your hand."

Ron snorted with derision. "Yeah, well your stupid book didn't work."

Gred's eyes widened at the admission. "You already asked her out?"

"Yeah, and she turned me down flat," Ron grumped, still upset at the turn of events.

The twins shared a glance, and began smirking at one another, instantly putting Ron on his guard. If they had tricked him with that book…

"Hey, what's going on? Why are you two grinning like that?"

"Nothing in particular."

"Nope, nothing at all."

"Yeah, and I'm Merlin. Come on, guys, spill."

Once again the twins glanced at each other in that uncanny manner which suggested they were sharing a conversation without words. By now Ron was beginning to become a little cross, but the twins appeared to notice it and attempted to placate him.

"We really have to hand it to you, Ron," said Gred with a smirk. "We didn't really think you had it in you."

"We thought you'd dillydally about for months before finally getting the courage to ask her out. You really surprised us."

"Didn't see the point in waiting around," Ron said with a shrug.

"No, I suppose not. In true Gryffindor fashion you charged ahead, regardless of the fact that you had virtually no chance whatsoever."

"You almost remind us of your favorite team, the Cannons. They do the same thing—charging out to certain defeat game after game. True Gryffindors, the whole lot of them, though perhaps not the brightest specimens of our house."

"I suspect that they may have a little too much Hufflepuff in them too."

"Not to mention a complete lack of anything resembling skill. But that's probably a prerequisite for admission to the Cannon fraternity."

The first twin nodded sagely at his counterpart's words, but for once Ron ignored the insult against his favorite team.

"Wh… What to you mean no chance?" he managed to stammer.

Forge peered at him like he had the intelligence of a particularly stupid flobberworm. "You didn't really think you had a chance with Hermione, did you?"

Ron sputtered with indignation. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you are so different from each other," Gred interjected. "You fight, argue and complain about each other—there's no way a relationship between you two would last. Hermione would be hexing you before you ever got around to saying your vows."

With narrowed eyes, Ron glared at his brothers. "If you thought I didn't have a chance, why did you give me that stupid book? Did you want me to embarrass myself?"

"I'm positively wounded that you would think that of us, Ronnie," declared Gred with a hand placed theatrically over his heart.

"What have we ever done to cause you to think such a thing?" said Forge.

When Ron glared at them even further, they sighed almost as one.

"Well, I guess we have kind of made you suspect our intentions in the past."

"But we assure you we did not do it to embarrass you this time."

"Then why did you do it?"

"To give you the courage to get it out of your system," said Gred. "Otherwise you may have moped around with your puppy dog eyes, and your longing looks for months and months before finally mustering the courage to be shot down."

"This way, we've helped you gain some confidence, and helped you get this painful episode out of the way much sooner than you would have otherwise."

"Not to mention the fact that the book has given you an idea of how to act around girls which you can use the next time."

"Though we would recommend you learn to behave that way naturally, rather than just to impress the girls."

"Seems to me you owe us thanks for our assistance."

Ron did not know whether to be outraged, or to laugh uproariously at their irreverent behavior. They had set him up, giving him the book and giving him hope, all the while expecting him to fail. He wanted to be angry—desperately wanted to let loose on them—but somehow, found that he could not find the will within him to do so. There was never a dull moment when the twins were around and Ron reflected that he should have been suspicious at their apparent largesse. Desperation, it seemed, had made him careless.

"I think the next time I see you, I'll give that book back to you—right between the eyes, if I can manage it."

"In that case, aim for Fred—it was his idea," said Forge.

"Hey, I distinctly remember it being your idea, George!" said Gred.

Ron, however, just shooed them away. "All right then. You two have had your fun. Now off with you!"

"Very well," they said, standing. "We had better go and collect our winnings now."

They turned to walk away, but had only made it a couple of steps before Ron's mouth caught up with his brain. "Winnings?"

"Yes. Some of our housemates had the stupidity to bet us that Hermione would get together with you."

"Knowing you both better, we took that bet, and are about to make a tidy profit."

Flashing identical grins, the twins turned and sauntered away, supposedly to collect their aforementioned winnings.

Ron was once again left in the unenviable position of not knowing whether to laugh or cry. In the end though, he did neither—he was too weary and wished the day to end too much for that.

He rose from the sofa and trudged up the stairs, swearing once again to never accept anything from the twins, be it their assistance, or any of their other double-edged gifts. The results of their assistance were almost guaranteed to be immensely devastating to his pride.

Updated 06/06/2013