Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!

Posted May 3, 2012.

-CHAPTER 7-

ASYLUM AND COLLAPSE

At precisely eight-thirty the following morning, the pair of them were delivered by port key to the law offices of Fraser, Leyhey, & Graham. They were met by Ty, who had obviously been waiting for them. The room they had arrived in looked like an entry way of sorts, with a fireplace to one wall, with a set of doors to the left of it. On the opposite wall, was a set of doors, with couches on either side. The firm's name was stenciled on the doors.

"Get lots of rest?"

"Yeah, peachy," Jason muttered. The pair of them looked somewhat out of sorts, as though they'd just gotten out of bed. "Mace practically dragged me out of bed... Kreacher?"

POP. "Yes, master Harry?"

"You know where to get some pepper-up potions, and some anti-hangover remedies?"

"Right away, master Harry." He popped away. Mace shook his head, rather surprised. "You can call him even from here?"

"It's magic. He's bound to me, right, so he can always hear me, I guess. Never really thought of it."

"You could've just called on Mellie, she could've got those things for you," Ty reminded. There was another pop, and the old house elf had returned, bringing several potions.

"Pepper-up potions and anti-hangover remedies for master Harry and his friend."

"Thank you, Kreacher. Has anyone come by the house since we've been gone?" Jason questioned, accepting the potions. He passed over a set to Mace, who quickly downed the both of them, making a scowl at the nasty taste.

"The old fool was by at least twice, he was. Most displeased he is unable to enter the property."

"Good," Jason grinned, as he unstoppered the first potion. He consumed it, gagging at the awful taste. "We'll possibly be needing to see the locket this morning. Not just now, but later on."

"Then Kreacher is returning to cleaning." He popped away.

"Hope he actually cleans things this time," Jason muttered, as he consumed the second of the two potions. He instantly felt better, and looking at his friend, he could tell he was feeling better too.

"If you guys will follow me," said Ty, leading them through the double doors.

Inside, they found a large reception desk, with two secretaries. One was on the phone, while the other, who was closer, was working on a computer. Jason again arched an eyebrow. Magic and electronics? Bad combination, wasn't that right?

"C'mon... this way." Ty was again leading them off down a corridor, with a number of doors going off on each side. They stopped at a set of double doors, which opened to reveal a conference room with a large table at its centre.

"If you two will make yourselves comfortable, I'll retrieve Miss Fraser." The short wizard took off.

"Shit. Hope she doesn't mind us eating breakfast while we have a chat... I'm starving."

"Uh... agreed." Mace, too, realized he was hungry.

"I'll get Kreacher to bring us breakfast, then."

When Bill Weasley had mentioned the situation concerning Harry Potter, Sandra Fraser had jumped at the opportunity. A high-profile attorney in both the magical and mundane world, she had cut her teeth on cases that 'didn't smell right'. The Potter case reeked of injustice, but being a Canadian attorney, it was outside of her jurisdiction. At least, until Bill had explained the present set of circumstances. Now, with the young man on Canadian soil, she could wade into the fray, and perhaps tear a strip off of a few holier-than-thou individuals.

She realized it would likely be a difficult fight, particularly if it were to be waged from across the pond, but given the possible sentiments on the part of the young man, certain measures could be taken. She had already prepared a number of forms, each of them requiring only the boy's signature. It would just be a matter of getting him to agree to their contents.

As Ty led her into the conference room, she was slightly surprised, seeing the two young men already seated, obviously having breakfast. Both of them looked up, seeing her arrival.

"Forgive us for just..." said one.

"Didn't have time for breakfast," the other finished.

"No, that's perfectly fine," said Sandra.

"Guys. Senior partner Sandra Fraser. Sandra, this is Jason Black, a.k.a. Harry Potter, and James Mace."

"Welcome," said Sandra, as she greeted them warmly, "No trouble on the flight over?"

"No, ma'am," answered Jason, as he sat back down.

"We can wait until you're finished."

"No, we're just about done anyway."

"Sorry we took so long. Sandra was locating a few other pieces of paperwork before we begin," Ty explained.

"Yes, a few rather important pieces of paperwork, actually. Mr. Mace. Where are you from?"

"Upstate New York, originally."

"American. Okay." Sandra took a seat across from them, and started filling in another set of forms.

"How did you and Mr. Potter—or shall I say now, Mr. Black—meet?"

"Complicated."

"When... well... someone dropped a..."

"Port key, wasn't it?" Mace filled in, and Jason nodded, then continued, "It somehow took me to his... his ship. I saved his life, and... a few days later, the port key brought us back here... into Dumbledore's office, ironically."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm only hearing a portion of it?"

"Like he said, the details are complicated," answered Jason, "Forgive us if we don't fully trust you right now."

"Fair enough. Do understand, the both of you, in order for us to help you, you need to be completely honest with us."

"All you need to know about Mace... he's one of a very few people I trust implicitly right now. God, I think I can count on one hand the number of people who fit that description."

"Very well." Sandra drew her wand, and gestured at a cabinet at the other side of the room. The doors opened on their own, and a silvery bowl floated out of it, toward them. "You've used a pensieve before?"

"Yeah. Four years ago," Jason answered.

"Perfect. I think then, the first thing I need to see, is your view of events, shortly before your arrest, and your trial four years ago."

"Sure." Harry drew his curved wand, and touched it to his temple, drawing out the appropriate memories, and as the pensieve came to rest in front of him, he dropped the silvery strand into it, then pushed it across the table so Sandra could reach it.

"Is it okay for Ty to have a look as well?"

"Yeah, of course."

Jason blew out a breath, as the two attorneys stuck a finger in the bowl, and were frozen in place. If the meddling old man wasn't convinced... no, this was different. The old man was not interested in fair justice for Jason. He never had been. These people were different. They would fight for him. Sure, it would likely cost a pile of money, but just the same, they would fight for him. That was what mattered.

He was pulled out of his thoughts, as Kreacher appeared again, removing the remains of their hastily ordered breakfast. He vanished with another noisy crack.

"You looked lost there a minute."

"Just thinking."

"Wondering if you can trust them?"

"No. Just hoping what I'm showing them won't just be dismissed, like Dumbledore did. I don't think that'll happen, but it still sits there in the back of my mind, y'know what I mean?"

"If they won't help, we'll keep looking 'till someone will, right?"

"I can't keep running forever. I have a fortune to play with, but it won't last forever. And given the Ministry here likely already knows to be on the lookout for me and such."

"Whatever you wanna do, I have your back."

"I know."

A few minutes later, the attorneys withdrew from the pensive, with Sandra looking fit to be tied. She instantly softened, seeing her newest client and his... friend. They were embracing tightly, and... snogging. She cleared her throat, and the pair instantly separated.

"S-s-sorry," Jason stammered, while the pair of them now resembled lobsters.

"As much as I would say carry on, by all means, we do have lots to cover, it seems," answered Sandra, giving the pair a small smile. She re-took her seat, while Ty again left the room.

"Well?" Jason prompted.

"As hazy as the last memory is, we can likely get the ICW to consider it," said Sandra, "Although equally disturbing, all of the testimony given by your supporters was declared irrelevant and inadmissible. I still question how your Wizengamot still has their magic, after such a travesty. And for the record, you were never questioned while under Veritaserum?"

"No, not at all."

"What about him escaping from Azkaban?" Mace threw in.

"If he's declared innocent of the original charges, it won't matter," answered Sandra, "If only to slightly reduce the compensation he'll earn. False imprisonment is a serious affair in the Wizarding world. That useless windbag of a Minister should know that." Sandra scowled. "When this is brought before the International court, there will be far-reaching fallout in your Ministry, Mr. Black."

"Good. Maybe that's exactly what they need. So you'll help us, then?"

"Mr. Black, it's cases like yours that have made my career. You know what the term Pro Bono means?" At Jason's shake of the head, she continued, "It means, in a nutshell, work taken voluntarily or without payment. Your case, although I could make a lot of money from you, I don't think it would be fair, given you've been dealt a bad hand as it is."

"Miss Fraser, I can certainly afford it-" Jason interrupted, but Sandra shook her head. "No, I won't accept one penny—or one knut from you."

"All right, all right." Jason held up his hands in mock surrender. "So what's next?"

"Is this the first time you've sought legal council?"

"Yeah, it is."

"You've never had legal representation, or in lieu of that, someone to advocate on your behalf?"

"I thought that's what Dumbledore was supposed to do," said Jason, sadly.

"No, that would have been a horrendous conflict of interest," answered Sandra, "Albus Dumbledore holds two powerful positions... one in your government as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, as well as being the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. He should not be advocating the interests of any single individual."

"Well, our government seems to have different rules," said Jason, with a scowl.

"Nonetheless, there are international standards your government has to follow. He should know better at any rate." She slid a form across the table. "You'll need to fill that out—" Sandra produced a pen from her pocket, and lay it on top of the form, "That establishes an agreement which will allow us to represent you in your legal matters, until such a time as you release us. As far as the payment schedule goes, you can ignore it, since we're offering our services for free."

Jason quickly reviewed the form. It was pretty simple, with just some basic information. He filled it using his real name, and used Number twelve, Grimmauld Place as his place of residence. In the place asking for names of parents or guardians, he filled in the Dursleys. He dated and signed it, then slid the completed form across the table.

"Wonderful. I think the best place to start, then, would be for you to give us a little background on yourself. What sort of difficulties you've had, that sort of thing. The newspapers have certainly had a bit to say about it, but being an attorney, I know what the press says about something is usually nowhere close to what truly happened."

"Isn't that the truth," said Jason. He leaned back in his chair, and thought where to begin. Right at the beginning. That would be the best place. Back as far as he could remember. Sandra and Ty both opened up notebooks, with dicta-quills, as Jason began to detail his life, as far back as he could remember: at the age of three.

He left nothing out, for the first time feeling safe enough to reveal what his home life had truly been like before he discovered he was a wizard: the days on end locked in his cupboard without food; the birthdays and Christmases he had to watch Dudley get showered with gifts, while he got nothing; the endless bullying and 'Harry hunting' at the hands of his cousin. There were more than a few places he had to stop, finding solace in the comfort of his boyfriend.

Mace somehow knew Jason's childhood was not a good one, but the information coming to light proved it beyond a doubt. Of course, Jason had shared a few dark memories, but nothing like the open book being presented now. The nasty look the muscular man was giving at this point gave the others a pretty good idea of where his head was at. If the Dursleys were to somehow appear in the room, they would be rather dead, rather quickly.

"Harry... Jason... Why didn't you say something?" Ty asked at one point.

"Because I thought I deserved it," answered Jason, in a small voice, "Even after I came to Hogwarts, I just figured that sort of thing was normal."

"That's bullshit, Jason," Mace snarled, "Jesus Christ, your relatives were monsters."

"We have some contacts in the British Crown Prosecution Service," said Ty.

"It's a little—"

"Too late? It's never too late, Jason," said Sandra, "If anything it would give you satisfaction to see them punished, would it not? Isn't that one of the reasons you're here? To have some answers, and possibly some closure?"

"I guess."

"Let us worry about the details," said Ty, "We'll likely pull in a few interns to help out. For now, continue with your story."

Jason moved on to his learning he was a wizard, and his first year at Hogwarts. He described the immense joy he'd felt, stepping into Diagon Alley for the first time, making his first friend (Hagrid), getting his holly wand, seeing Hogwarts for the first time. He talked about his first real friends, Ron and Hermione (although his features darkened as he talked about them), and the first encounter with Voldemort at the end of the school year.

The two years thereafter, as he talked about them, seemed to get darker, more sinister. His words were being written down verbatim by the pair of dicta-quills, as a running transcript, and equally important, as a set of notes for the attorneys to work from. Sandra and Ty were making their own notes of things they would want to ask later on, of course.

He talked about his fourth year, and the Tri-wizard Tournament... becoming an unwilling fourth participant... his face seemed to light up as he talked about Cedric. Mace, of course, already knew a little bit about Jason's first love, naturally. The discussion once again darkened, of course, and Jason could not finish. He simply extracted the memory and deposited it in the pensieve.

"I... I can't do it. I can't..."

"It's okay, Jason." Sandra and Ty again froze, as they were transported into the pensieve.

"Why don't you share the rest of your memories that way?" Mace suggested.

"'cause I want you to know... to understand as well."

"I could just go in with them—"

"No. It would mean me coming too, and honestly... just pulling them out is traumatic enough. And without me there, things could get confusing. Showing them this way is confusing enough, and you're still new at all this shit." Jason found himself pulled into an embrace for a second time that morning. It didn't chase his fears away, but it certainly helped him calm somewhat. Cedric had been able to do that as well.

Several minutes later, both Sandra and Ty returned from the pensieve. Sandra looked positively ill, and had to call on Mellie to bring several calming draughts before they could continue. Jason, meanwhile, leaned forward, and collected the memory, much as he'd done earlier. "Not even being imprisoned matches that memory," he spoke, letting out a visual shudder. He slumped back into Mace's arms. "The world went to hell when this happened."

He finally moved on to cover the Dementor attack on his cousin and the subsequent trial in front of the entire Wizengamot—lots of additional notes were made there, along with another trip into the pensieve. This time, all of them viewed it, as Jason wanted Mace to understand what the guardians of Azkaban truly looked like, and just how dangerous they were.

That led into Jason's fifth year at Hogwarts, and the mention of Umbridge's detentions got real attention, when Jason described the 'special' quill.

"Dear God, she was using a blood quill," said Sandra, a nasty look crossing her face, "Those things have been banned by the ICW for the past two hundred years."

"Well, Umbridge had no problem using it," said Jason, absently messaging the back of his scarred hand.

"Were you the only one she used it on?"

"No, she used it on a lot of students."

"We'll want to get in contact with some of the those people. The more witnesses we have, the stronger the case."

"I'm not really worried about Umbridge. I will deal with her all in good time, the useless toad."

"No, Jason. It's better to do it through the proper channels," Ty objected, "That's what we're here for. It also goes to further your argument against Dumbledore and others who want to control you."

"I guess—aaaaaah!" Jason almost lost consciousness as his scar flared with white-hot pain.

"Jason?"

The scene faded, to be replaced by a room he'd already seen many times during his incarceration. A long table took up the room, with an enormous fireplace off to one side. He sat at the head of the table, with his closest followers seated along its length.

"The Ministry is virtually crippled, my lord," spoke Avery, from five seats away, "We have people in position and we just need your word."

"Likewise, our people are ready in the alley, should you wish to create a diversion."

Harry thought for a moment. "Very good, Avery. Let us then proceed. Tonight, at nightfall."

The world again fell away, and Jason found himself looking at Mace's concerned face.

"You okay?"

"B-b-bad vision. I... I need to make a floo call right away."

"What for?" questioned Sandra.

"Voldemort is gonna take the Ministry."

"This way." Ty indicated Jason follow him. Naturally, Sandra and Mace quickly followed along. Back out the corridor, and to the entry hall they had been brought to by port key.

"Floo powder is there, of course." Ty indicated the small pot hanging by the side of it.

"International connections work I hope?"

"For a call, yes."

"Good. Can only pray he's there." He grabbed a pinch of floo powder, and tossed it into the grate. "Hogwarts, Headmaster's office!" and plunged his face into the green flames.

He was in luck, as the headmaster was seated at his desk.

"Professor?"

"Harry, my boy..." Dumbledore was across the room rather quickly for his old age.

"Professor. No time to chat. Voldemort... he's gonna take the Ministry tonight, at nightfall."

"How did you become aware of this?" The question was asked with suspicion.

"My scar, sir. Just... got a nasty vision. The Ministry and Diagon Alley, tonight. He's attacking the alley as a diversion."

"Harry... as much as-"

"Professor! Please, you have to trust me!" Harry suddenly felt strange, as though—he yanked his face out of the fire, and was just in time to see a hand snatching around briefly in the flames, as they returned to their usual orange glow.

"Shit, that was close."

"They're likely monitoring the floo network, Jason. C'mon, let's get back to the conference room," said Sandra.

"Jason... why do you care though?" Mace posed the question.

"If Voldemort takes the Ministry, I won't have any hope of getting my name cleared, for starters. And that would be the least of our worries. As much as I hate to admit it, the Order of the Phoenix is probably the only thing that can actually prevent him from taking over."

Getting back to the conference room, Jason found a calming draught waiting for him at his seat, which he rapidly consumed. The vision, coupled with having to deal with Dumbledore, and the close call in the floo was more than enough excitement. Sandra glanced up at the clock.

"How about we take a break for lunch. The pair of you are set up at the Blazing Goblet?"

"Yeah. Thanks again," said Jason.

"No worries. Though we will sort out something a little more permanent in the coming days."

"What sort of food do they have there, by the way?"

"Usual pub fare... fish and chips are always a favourite of course," said Ty.

"And that's your, um, Wizarding community, right?"

"Yeah. Maybe the same size as Diagon Alley," said Sandra.

"A wand, remember?" Mace reminded him.

"Right. Mace's wand—well, he defeated someone for it, but it doesn't seem to work for him."

"You'll want O'Toole's. We can stop in there either before or after lunch."

"Let's get lunch first then," Jason decided, feeling his stomach let out some sort of protest.

O'Toole's Wand Shop was about double the size of Ollivander's back in Diagon Alley. The sign on the door read:

Stephen O'Toole
Maker of fine wands and channeling devices
Est. 1876

The shop itself was, much like Ollivander's, lined with what seemed like hundreds of tiny boxes. A difference, however, was in the number of taller sticks which were kept behind a long glass case along a side wall. A display case contained a few wands, along with a flood of rings.

"Rings?" Jason arched an eyebrow.

"Rings, staves, and wands," spoke a stranger, appearing in a doorway leading to the back of the shop, "We also enchant amulets, bracers, and a number of other oddities as a focus, if you might be interested." Jason guessed the man to be in his thirties, slightly taller than he was, with a slim build. Like most of the witches and wizards he saw thus far, he wore Muggle clothing—this time charcoal grey dress pants, and a plain white dress shirt. His hair was pulled back in a pony tail, and a pair of glasses were stuffed in one of the shirt pockets.

"Never heard of enchanting a ring rather than a wand," said Jason.

"Well, Ollivander was never really into anything other than wands, now, was he? You got your wand from him when you were eleven, correct?"

"Yes sir," answered Jason. The man hummed, then gave Jason a sharp look. "Good grief! Mr. Potter?"

"Not anymore. Jason Black, sir."

"Well then! What brings you to my shop—unless..." He frowned a moment.

"I've already got a wand, actually, sir. One of a few things someone left conveniently in my cell. The reason I'm here, and not still locked up in Azkaban." He drew the wand, and allowed the wandmaker to handle it.

"Hmm... I detect oak, eleven inches even, dragon heartstring... an unnatural curve to it—rigid. A most powerful wand, Mr. Black. You've not worked long with it, I take it?"

"No, sir."

"Whoever gave it to you most certainly knew what they were doing. Go ahead and give it a wave for me." Jason accepted it back, and gave it a wave. This time, it reacted much more favourably, sending a colourful shower of red sparks out of the end of it.

"That's odd. When I first picked it up and did that, it only gave me a few sparks out of the end of it."

"You have to force it into submission, Mr. Black. That wand expects a powerful wizard to wield it."

"Jason... maybe that's why my wand doesn't work for me," Mace said.

"Yeah... the reason we're here. Mace, um—"

"Just came into his magical ability. Most interesting. You cast without a wand?"

"You mean this." Mace's right hand instantly glowed, a white-blue orb swirling in his palm.

"You been able to practice any other sort of magic yet?"

"No, sir."

"And what sort of wand are you using?"

Harry opened up his backpack, and pulled out the wand they had captured from Dumbledore, and held it out to Mr. O'toole.

"You're shitting me." His eyes seemed to get as big as golf balls. He pulled his glasses out of his shirt pocket, slipped them on, and drew his wand. "Hold it out... perfect." He began casting several detection spells on it. "Where did you get this?"

"Dumbledore was it?" said Mace, and at Jason's nod, he continued, "We landed in his office. He went to draw on us, and I nailed him with this-" The glowing orb momentarily reappeared in his hand.

"The wand went flying, and I collected it," Jason finished.

"You cleanly disarmed him of this wand."

"Jason's house elf friend took the fucker off to the infirmary, I think," said Mace, with a scowl. "Thing is, it doesn't work worth a damn for me."

"No, and it wouldn't," said Mr. O'toole, with a shake of his head, "Have any of you heard of the Deathly Hallows?" At their shaking heads, he continued, "The Elder Wand, also known as the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick, the Eldruhn Wand, and a few others... this wand. Whatever you do, do not tell others about it. You see, this wand has a history painted in blood."

"Still doesn't explain why it won't work for me."

"Simple. This wand—" Mr. O'toole again gestured to the captured wand, "—knows one thing, and one thing only: power. Mr. Mace, you've only recently gained your magical ability. You have the magical core of one just starting their magical education, and therefore nowhere near the power required to properly use this wand. You might be its owner, but at this point, you haven't earned its allegiance."

"But he will someday, right?" Jason questioned.

"It really depends on how strong he becomes, magically. For now I would suggest keeping this hidden, and as I said, tell no one you have it. Unless you wish to become yet another victim in its bloody history."

"Great. One more thing to cause trouble. We could just snap it."

"No. Just stick it back in the backpack," said Mace. He turned back to Mr. O'toole. "I need something that'll work for me. Borrowing Jason's is a pain in the ass."

"As it would be. Let's see then." The guy was obviously still very much distracted by the legendary item in their possession, but forced himself to focus. A magical tape appeared out of nowhere, and started measuring the muscular man from every conceivable angle. Harry had to smirk, seeing the confusion on his boyfriend's face. "Same thing happened to me in Ollivander's shop," he grinned.

"Which hand do you write with?"

"Right handed," answered Mace, still distracted by the magical tape, as it carried on of its own accord.

"And when's your birthday? Just the month and day?"

"June thirteenth."

"Enough," said Mr. O'toole, and the tape rolled itself up and vanished. He gestured with his wand at several locations along the back wall of the shop, summoning nearly a dozen boxes. All of them were long and slender, and they neatly stacked themselves on the counter in front of them. He opened the top box, and pulled out the wand which lay inside. "Oak, twelve and three quarter inches, swishy."

Mace barely gripped the wand, when Mr. O'toole snatched it back. "No... that won't do." he put the wand back in its box, and opened up the next one. "Another oak, twelve inches even, supple."

This time, Mace actually waved the wand, and was mortified, as a yellow blast of magic bloomed from its tip, to impact with the ceiling. It ricocheted back from whence it came, forcing everyone to duck.

"No, definitely not," said Mr. O'toole, as Mace handed the wand back. He looked over at Jason, who was doubled over.

"Not funny."

"Sure it was!" Jason breathed, as Mr. O'toole pulled out another wand.

"Everything all right?" Ty had seen the commotion, and stepped into the shop.

"Yeah, sure," Mace muttered, as he tried another wand. This time, no reaction whatsoever. "Fuck, this one feels dead to me. At least Jason's I can actually feel it."

"Good, then. You know what to look for."

Naturally, it was an hour later, and they were still there. A hefty pile of boxes was mounting on the counter, as the wandmaker continued to pull others from the inventory.

"Maybe it's not the right wood," Ty suggested.

Mr. O'toole sent a withering look at Ty. "Who's the wandmaker, Mr. Waterhouse?"

"Sorry."

"However..." He gestured again with his wand, pulling down another stack of boxes. He flipped off the cover from one of them. "Let's try one of cypress." He simply passed the box over.

"Cypress? Never heard of a wand being made of Cypress."

"Rare. And difficult to match."

The wand inside the box was nearly white, it was so light, with an intricate weave pattern at the base of it, just above the handle. Mace was instantly drawn to it, and the instant flesh came in contact with the wood, he felt a tremendous surge of warm energy travel through him from head to toe. A smile touched his lips as he drew the wand fully from the box, and gripped it comfortably in his hand.

"Well then! About time. Give it a wave if you will." Mace obliged, and a strong bloom of red sparks radiated from its tip.

"Much better feel than the... the other wand," said Mace, again giving his new wand the once-over.

Mr. O'toole frowned. "Most unusual. Cypress, twelve and an eighth inches, dragon heartstring, un—unyielding."

"Unyielding?" Ty arched an eyebrow.

"You will find this wand challenging to master. Perhaps nearly as difficult as the wand you have captured, Mr. Mace. However, once you have mastered a particular spell, you will find it to be most powerful."

"Cast a Lumos charm," Jason suggested.

"Lumos." The wand tip lit up with a light almost painfully bright. "Nox. Didn't feel too difficult."

"It will be when you try learning something new. You will need some patience, but it will be worth it in the end. If perhaps, to help you become strong enough to master the second wand you now own."

"Right, then. How much do we you you?"

"Eight galleons, Mr. Black." Jason dug into his pockets and found his money pouch, and counted out eight gold coins. If anything, Jason was more than anxious to get out of the shop, with the knowledge he now had.

The conference room, seemed to be a little busier when they returned. A pair of interns had joined Sandra at the table, which was now littered with papers. A set of dicta-quills were working off to the side of the room, duplicating the notes that had already been taken. Off on another wall, sat a small table containing a tray of sweets, coffee, tea, and a row of potions. Pepper-up potions, Jason realized. He stopped short. Two more individuals sat at the opposite end of the table, one of them wearing the crimson robes of the Auror office. The crest, however, was rather different, dominated with a maple leaf... at least that's what it looked like.

"Mr. Black. We're ready to start up again?"

"Y-yes ma'am." He cast a nervous look toward the Auror.

"Mr. Black, this is Samantha Thompson, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and head Auror Jessup Morgan. They're here to take a statement and be present for several pieces of paperwork to be filed." The pair stood up and came around the table, but rather than draw wands, Samantha simply offered a hand. "Mr. Potter. Or is it Mr. Black, now?"

"Mr. Black, ma'am." he reciprocated, and they shook hands. "I'm not under arrest?"

"No. Your advocate has certainly filled me in on the details, and I can honestly say I'm more than appalled at my English counterpart for allowing such a snow job to take place in the first place."

"However, we do need some paperwork filled out, and an explanation as to how you managed to enter the country. We've certainly been on the lookout for you."

"We came over the Muggle way," Jason explained, as everyone again took seats."

"Quite clever of you. I assume you had some help in doing so."

"Yeah, a few friends."

"A connection of mine back in England contacted me and asked if I was willing to help out," said Sandra, "It was my suggestion he use Muggle means so he would get into contact with us first before we contacted the Ministry. I trust you understand the deception."

"In context, I do have to agree. Any other way, the pair of you would have spent at least a night in the Ministry's holding cells," Samantha agreed, turning back to Jason, "Given the circumstances surrounding your case, it's more than understandable the steps you've taken. As to your friend here-"

"James Mace, ma'am."

"He's also wanted by the English Ministry, but I gather it is related to your own case, Mr. Black?"

"It is. He simply protected the both of us against the headmaster. We would likely have been stunned, obliviated, and carted off to the Ministry."

"I promised Jason, I've got his back, and I mean it," said Mace, with a scowl.

"Very well." Samantha drew her wand, and gestured at a spot in front of her. A stack of forms appeared. "Mr. Black, nee Potter. You are seeking political asylum within Canada's borders, on the grounds that you fear for your safety and possibly your life, should you be returned there. Is that a fair statement?"

Jason blinked, startled at the statement. However, it did make sense. "It is a fair statement, yes."

"That statement, would it also apply to you, Mr. Mace?"

"Um-"

"Say yes, Mace," said Jason.

"Yes."

"Then so it is recorded, and so mote it be." She gestured again with her wand, causing the stack of papers to roll themselves up and vanish with a slight pop. "There will, naturally be a hearing to determine the validity of your claims, but for now, welcome to Canada."

"Thank you, ma'am." Jason inclined his head, as his opinion of his new company just went up a few notches.

"Should the hearing go in your favour, we will then be able to make a petition to the ICW's appellate court, with regards to your murder conviction."

"ICW? What's that?" questioned Mace.

"The International Confederation of Wizards," Samantha answered, "You're familiar with the United Nations in the Muggle world?" At Mace's nod, she continued, "They oversee international issues. There are many nations and so on, but the important thing here is the international court."

"I don't need to tell the both of you, the appeal will possibly mean recalling key witnesses, and will require the use of Veritaserum on each of them," said Sandra.

"I'll gladly submit to that myself, should it help clear my name. I swear on everything holy, I did not murder a classmate and someone I saw as a friend. Colin was annoying sometimes, but... he was in the D.A., even... and so was his brother!" He blew out a breath to calm himself. "I can also show who actually killed him. I mean, it's a memory of a memory, but... I know for certain it was Belletrix Lestrange. She used polyjuice potion. Y'know... I don't think they even checked my wand. Dumbledore just snapped it there and then in his office. He just stood there, with that 'I'm so disappointed in you' look on his face... meanwhile a convicted, escaped Death Eater was roaming the halls of the school!"

"She's on our watch list here, as are a good number of Voldemort's inner circle. And, unlike your Ministry, we take the threat he poses very seriously, never mind what most of our community think of him," said Samantha, darkly.

"Do you get... Death Eaters over here?"

"They don't last very long. Oh believe me, we do have a part of our society here which believe blood means something. As luck has it, they are a very small minority. You'll find, Mr. Black, we're much more forward-thinking here than what you are used to."

"So I noticed." Jason gestured about the room. "One of my former friends was always on about Muggle electronic things not working well around magic."

"Aye, and it is still true," said Jessup, finally daring to enter the conversation. His accent was rather amusing, somewhat a cross between Irish, Scottish, and... thick English, maybe? It was bizarre, but somehow, Jason thought he could listen to him talk all day. "There's a limit to how much you can pull off, really, before you start causing problems, right."(1)

"Right," Jason grinned, forcing himself back to the present.

"Mr. Black, bast case scenario. What do you want to happen?" Samantha posed the question.

"Best case scenario? Cleared of all charges, complete vindication. Dumbledore, Fudge, and a list of others answer for this... nightmare I've lived for four years. Mace and I find some place to make some sort of quiet life together. Yeah, that's about it."

"Near future, you may get at least part of your wish," said Susan, "The appellate court can throw out the charges, if they feel the evidence is persuasive enough. In doing that, the English Ministry would not be able to re-file against you regarding that incident.

"The lesser possibility, is that they will declare the outcome of the trial null and void, but force the Ministry to try you again, this time with ICW observers present. The ICW does not normally hold trials itself, but they can most certainly involve themselves if need be. That scenario, of course, is very rarely used, given member nations don't wish to intrude on the autonomy of others." She paused, then continued, "They could also deny your request, should they feel the evidence you present is not compelling—and lastly, they could, worst case scenario, decide additional charges need to be filed."

"And?"

"Your case, I have a strong belief you will get the top choice."

"Yes, even from my vantage point, with the very few pieces of information your solicitor has shared with me, this is a snow job right out of the gate," said Samantha, grimly, "Part of me is itching for me to make a floo call to my English counterpart. Given the private nature of this meeting, I'll naturally refrain from doing so."

"Much appreciated." Jason did his best not to scowl.

"If we could get back to your walking us through things," Ty suggested.

"Kreacher," Jason called, and the elf appeared. "Master Harry call for Kreacher?"

"Could you please fetch us maybe five or six calming draughts?"

"Of course, Master Harry," said Kreacher, bowing low. He popped away.

"Still can't convince him to call me Jason."

"You'll need to do that if you plan on keeping your cover," said Ty, "You'll likely have to give him a direct order."

"I hate doing that. He and I still don't get on all that well... particularly considering..." The elf returned, bringing with him a sack which clinked when he set it on the conference table.

"Is there anything else, Master Harry?"

"Yes, there is," said Jason, kneeling so he was eye-level with the old house elf. "Kreacher. I hate to, but I must order you to from this point on only call me Jason Black. I want the world to forget about Harry Potter, and if this is what it takes, than so be it."

Kreacher regarded the dark-haired man who was his master, and again bowed low. "Master orders and Kreacher obeys. Of course, Master Jason."

"Thank you, Kreacher." The elf vanished, this time with a slightly less noisy crack. "Merlin, he actually looked pleased at me, if that's possible."

"Maybe you earned a bit more of his respect," said Ty, with a shrug, "I know house elves are a bit strange."

"Preaching to the choir, mate. Bloody hell, I know all about that. I've not introduced you lot to Dobby yet."

"He'd make Kreacher look sane, I think," said Mace, shaking his head. Jason had gotten back into his seat, and was putting the bottles of calming draught in front of him. Mace inwardly winced. If he needed all of those... the story he was about to tell was not going to be pretty. Not in the least.

"Miss Fraser, I'll probably need your pensieve again."

"Ty... you mind? And I insist you call me Sandra, Mr. Black."

"Only if you call me Jason." He cleared his throat. "I'll pick up, then, just after Christmas four years ago. Just after Belletrix Lestrange and nine other Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban..."

By supper time, Jason wasn't the only one needing a calming draught. Mace was yet again floored by the person he had fallen in love with. The man had suffered many times that of the average person, and was yet sane. He had suffered the loss of someone who should have filled the role of parent and guardian, but had no chance to grieve, having been framed for murder only days following. He had then been betrayed by everyone he called a friend, bar a few. He had endured four years in a place that was far worse than any Muggle prison. The question again: how was he still sane?

It wasn't Mace who posed this question, however. Morgan, who had remained relatively quiet up to this point, at at last asked, "Good God, b'y, how is it you're not barking mad?"

"The dream of revenge. The day I'm able to stand up and speak for myself, and tell them, 'you were wrong!'. 'You were all wrong, and now you have to lay in the bed you made'. See, there's one more thing that I didn't tell you, but I think it needs to be said. Voldemort will try and kill me one way or another, right?" He drew out another memory from his temple, and placed it in the pensieve. Sandra again tapped it with her wand, and a shimmering image of Sybill Trelawney took form over it, speaking in the harsh, hoarse tones Harry had heard her use before.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"(2)

There were certainly looks of confusion from the two attorneys, and the two Aurors, but a look at Mace, and Jason knew he understood what it meant.

"You have to kill him or he'll kill you." was his blunt declaration, at which Jason slowly nodded, saying, "It's him or me."

"And they help you by framing you for murder, and locking you up in Azkaban... bright bunch of people over there," Mace snorted, "They're all fucking stupid."

"Summed it up quite nicely," Jason agreed, as he collected the memory from the pensieve, "Quite honestly, I have no interest saving any of their arses. Before, my trust, my loyalty, my friendship... was given freely. Now? Never again. Those things have all been shattered rather spectacularly, and they expect me to just ignore it and bend over backwards when my... time in the sun arrives?" He let out a hollow laugh. "Boy, are they all in for a rude awakening."

"You would damn us all to that monster?" Morgan looked alarmed.

"If Voldemort keeps his business within England's borders, I won't raise a finger. He comes here, that's a different story. He fucks with the few friends I do still have, again, that's a different story."

"Some might believe you have an obligation, Mr. Black," said Samantha, and was rewarded with a withering gaze from the dark-haired man.

"I owe them NOTHING!" The table actually rattled and the lights flickered, with the resulting small burst of magical energy. Mace shivered, feeling the angry taint from it, but he reached over and put a hand on Jason's shoulder in support. The magical outburst seemed to fizzle out. "Thanks."

"For now we'll just focus on getting a hearing in front of the ICW."

"That'll probably take some time," said Samantha, "A hearing before our court regarding your application for political asylum will likely happen within days, on the other hand. We'll send notification through your attorney here."

"Sounds good to me."

"It is getting to be late. Why don't we call it a day, and pick up again in the morning. Now I should mention, I do have to be in court for one o'clock tomorrow, so we'll only be able to meet for part of the day," said Sandra.

"It'll give me a chance then to settle a few other issues in the mean time."

After having something to eat in the pub, the pair returned to their room. It was still early in the evening, but at this point, Jason had only one thing on his mind: to forget about the terrible memories he'd been forced to wade through earlier in the day. His entire young life had been laid bare in front of people he still thought of as strangers. He felt unclean, and at this point, truly the only thing keeping him grounded was the man who had practically became his shadow. The pair of them had become joined at the hip, so it seemed, much like it had been four years prior, when he still called Ron and Hermione his best friends.

It was to this end the dam holding back all of the raw emotions finally broke, and the young wizard at last collapsed under the tidal wave of emotions, deep sobs wracking his body. He cried over the loss of his friends through betrayal, the loss of his godfather, the loss of his childhood... the loss of his innocence. No matter how he faced it, he would always be viewed with suspicion should he ever return to England.

Mace once again felt like a fish out of water. His love had crashed and burned in seconds, now a ball of nerves, slumped into him. He somewhat understood now, what rested on Jason's shoulders, but was at a loss over what to do. He simply held the young wizard tightly, knowing at this point, he had reached rock bottom.

AUTHOR NOTES: So... a bit of an explanation for Mace's wand. I found this somewhere: "Cypress: associated with nobility, these wands find matches in brave people and also bold and self-sacrificing people." So, cypress it is. If you read Mace's character summary from 'Sunshine' (it's out there, look it up), the wand wood most certainly fits. Additionally, this from the Harry Potter Wiki: "Cypress is associated with valour. The great medieval wandmaker, Geraint Ollivander, wrote that he was always honoured to match a cypress wand, for he knew he was meeting a witch or wizard who would die a heroic death."

(1) So... what part of Canada might Mr. Thompson be from, hmmm?

(2) Taken from p.741, "Order of the Phoenix", Canadian soft-cover edition.