Pip's sisters were laughing.

Imogen and Cordelia were an arm's length away, giggling and dancing. Their white dresses were dirtied with grass-stains. Their brown curls, the same shade as their older sister's, were woven with branches but neither seemed to care.

Cordelia pirouetted in a circle, her round cheeks glowing red. 'Hurry up, Pip!'

Pip answered in a childish lilt. 'I'm coming!'

She paused, looking down. She was in an identical white dress and her tiny feet were caked in mud. She stretched out a small stubby hand, a wildflower clenched in the other.

'I bet I can make it to the top first!' Imogen teased. The little girl was already climbing the bottom most branches.

Their tree was a solitary, majestic thing. Its bark was gnarled and peeling in places, it's thick beard of a canopy reaching skywards. It was like a crotchety old relative who pretended to hate children but still endured their presence with grumpy resignation. It gifted them splinters and scrapes but the girls loved it unconditionally. Its branches were spaced perfectly apart for their restless legs; its leaves shaded them through summer.

When Imogen had broken her collarbone in a fall, their father had threatened to cut it down. Pip had led the resistance movement on that one, and the girls whinged until Edgar Bones relented.

Pip's gaze travelled back towards her childhood home.

As she watched, a dark rot appeared on the roof. It moved like a disease, spreading over the wood and down the panels until it reached the house's foundations. The house became hollow, as though it were decomposing. The blue sky that was its backdrop transformed into a black, starless night.

Pip's childlike voice quivered. 'We should go.'

She turned around. The tree was still there but her sisters were gone. Pip cried out for them but only stillness answered. A green flash sent her slowly swivelling back to the house.

A venomous green shape had appeared above it: a smoky skull, a diamond snake thrashing from its mouth. The Dark Mark had claimed the Bones'.

Spots of light opened onto a bleary, unfocused ceiling.

Pip squinted at it as she stirred to consciousness. Her head was thumping, her mouth cotton dry. She twisted in the sheets, trying to figure out where she was and mumbled something unintelligible.

'About bloody time.'

Bill materialised above her. Relief laced his smile, and he looked almost Lupin-esque in his exhaustion. 'Thought you'd never wake up. You fractured your skull in three places, Pip. If your head wasn't so thick it could've been a lot worse,' he joked.

How the fuck did I manage that, Pip wondered drowsily.

Last night rushed at her all at once, surging like a tidal wave. The Department of Mysteries - the children on the floor - the archway - Rookwood - Tonks and Moody's unmoving bodies...and Sirius laughing.

Pip darted upright in alarm, blinking against the ache in her head. She vaguely registered she was in St. Mungo's. 'What happened?'

'We won,' Bill said, ploughing on before more questions assaulted him. 'Everyone's okay. Dumbledore managed to capture all the Death Eaters except Bellatrix. And, Pip, Voldemort showed up. Fudge saw him.'

Pip couldn't conjure any relief, one unanswered element eclipsing the disorienting fog. Her racing heartbeat was already driving away the grogginess. 'Sirius?'

'Is alive,' Bill speedily answered. He was watching carefully as Pip's whole body slackened with mind-numbing relief. 'His trial is today. The whole Wizengamot's convened at the Ministry.'

'What trial?' she demanded, tensed again.

'Pip, he's still technically a fugitive...'

Pip threw back the scratchy sheets and lurched from her cot. She swayed on the spot, looking around for something to replace the cheap hospital gown. Where the fuck were her things? She caught sight of a familiar bag resting on a chair and rifled through the possessions someone had so considerately packed. As she did, Bill inquired what exactly she was doing.

'What does it look like I'm doing? I'm getting dressed – avert your eyes.'

Bill acquiesced, speaking with his back to Pip. 'I know what you're thinking, Pip. My orders are to keep you here until the healers are convinced you're head's not going to implode.'

'Bill, unless you want to wind up in hospital bed, I suggest you help me do this.'

There wasn't much fight in Bill. He knew Pip too well. She was stubborn as a hippogriff at the best of times, and going off the string of curses coming from over his shoulder as she grappled with a pair of pants, this was not the best of times. No, Bill valued his life too much to resist this particular escape attempt.

Pip rolled her shoulders, now dressed, and broke loose from the hospital ward with Bill hot on her heels. She forced the pain in her skull back. Was it only yesterday she was guarding McGonagall down the hall? A healer attempted to intercept them at the exit but one glimpse of Pip's icy glare had him stepping aside.

The Ministry of Magic had remodelled overnight.

The ground was gouged and scratched, the glass windows shattered. A custodial wizard was prying the decapitated head of a golden statue from the wall. The shreds of Fudge's banner fluttered pathetically atop the buzzing hive of witches and wizards swarming the place.

The battle must've moved here.

Pip elbowed through the throngs with Bill clinging to her sleeve. She stalked towards a bored looking guard preventing entry into deeper levels. 'I have to get past.'

'I'm afraid I can't do that,' he droned.

Pip reared to full height, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. There was a vein pulsing below a square of gauze plastered to her forehead. Her narrowed eyes bore into his fearful ones, and she spoke deliberately, punctuating each syllable so the threat would sink in. 'I tackled a Death Eater last night,' she ground out. 'So if you think you are going to stop me, think again.'

He gulped and let them through.

The rest of the Ministry was a sort of no-man's-land separating the curious onlookers outside and those at the trial. More guards watched them suspiciously as Pip and Bill traversed the space in search of the courtroom chambers. By the time the two reached them, Pip's stomach was squirming like she'd swallowed a can of live flobberworms.

The trial had already started.

Although he was concealed by a wall of bodies, Pip thought Cornelius Fudge sounded strained. Perhaps on the verge of a breakdown, his tone rang with defeat. 'And what happened next?'

'Like I already told you, Pettigrew took out his wand, killed everyone in range, cut off a toe and turned into a rat,' Sirius said impatiently. 'Shall I draw you a picture, Minister?'

The wriggling in Pip's stomach alleviated for a moment. Sirius was there, he was alive. And if he was mouthing off to Fudge, he couldn't be hurt too seriously.

But Pip's comfort was short lived. She and Bill pushed into the claustrophobic observation stands where the scene became clear.

Sirius sat in the centre of the room, sunken much like the archway chamber from Pip's memory. His back was to them, and he was still in the same dust-smeared robes from the previous night. His hair was dishevelled, his posture stiff in the chair imprisoning him. Chains were wrapped menacingly around his arms, threatening to tighten with his slightest movement.

The Wizengamot loomed over him, each member wearing a different expression. Pip's eyes raked over the stands, stopping on her aunt. She sat to one side of Fudge, with a lion-like wizard Pip knew to be Rufus Scrimgeour on the other. Amelia Bone's monocle was digging into her eyebrow with how strenuously she was frowning.

Pip tried mentally sending her aunt a message, wishing she'd bothered to learn legilimency. He's innocent, he's innocent, he's innocent...

Fudge was clearly still trying to salvage some credibility now that his wilful blindness to Voldemort's return had been exposed. 'Do you have any proof of this?'

'Look into my mind! I'll drink veritaserum if you want! It's the truth,' Sirius growled. The chains clinked ominously.

'Under Section Fifteen of the Wizengamot's bylaws, the Ministry has outlawed the use of veritaserum at trials owing to the fact that skilled wizards are able to resist its influence,' Fudge reminded curtly.

Pip could picture Sirius's sarcastic smirk. 'I'm flattered you think I'm skilled. Look, Fudge, I don't have the patience or the crayons to explain this to you again.'

Pip's lips twitched upwards despite her anxiety, which was slightly subdued as Dumbledore appeared in her line of sight.

'I believe the myriad of evidence the defence has submitted is enough to reveal the truth of this matter,' Dumbledore proclaimed, hands clasped behind his back. 'Cornelius, you have your answers – about the night the Potters died, about Peter Pettigrew's part in all of this, and about Sirius Black's escape.'

There was a collective murmur from the Wizengamot, almost weary. Pip realised she and Bill were rather late to the party – how many times had Fudge already forced them to retrace this?

But the Minister wasn't through. He seized upon Dumbledore's reminder, his eyes regaining a shadow of fervour. 'Yes! The escape!' He looked down his nose at Sirius, as though the latter were a large slug. 'Read that paragraph back to me, Weasley.'

Pip finally noticed Percy, the court scribe, perched in a booth below Fudge. His horn-rimmed glasses were askew as he foraged for the record. He was sitting at a rather odd angle, as though he was blocking something out he would rather not see.

That something was his parents. Arthur and Molly stood with the rest of the Order in another observation stand. Harry was lodged between them, looking as agitated as Pip felt. His anxious emerald eyes were trained on his godfather.

'You are aware, of course, that neglecting to register as an animagus is a serious crime?' Fudge interrogated.

'I'm aware,' Sirius said without a hint of guilt.

'And yet you did so regardless!'

'And I'm bloody glad I did! Or I'd still be rotting away in Azkaban instead of having this cheery audience with you.'

Pip wasn't sure whether to laugh or slap a hand across her forehead. She settled for fidgeting with Sirius's golden necklace, clutching it as though it were a rosary.

Fudge had flushed as purple as his robes. 'That sort of insolence will not be tolerated, Black! You may not be a Death Eater, however you are not free to choose which laws to adhere to and which to flout as you please!'

'Calm yourself, Fudge,' Scrimgeour instructed. The man had an apparent monopoly on stoicism.

There was another murmur from the Wizengamot. Pip got the impression the jurors were irritated with Fudge's desperate attempts to land a charge that would stick, but she couldn't afford to hope that was the case.

Amelia Bones finally spoke. 'As much as I agree with you about the sanctity of our laws, Minister, the defendant has already spent the sentence allotted to illegal animagi in Azkaban - three times over. It seems to me,' Pip's aunt continued, 'that the Ministry under my late predecessor, Bartermius Crouch, has committed a gross miscarriage of justice. I believe it is our duty to rectify that.'

Crouch recoiled as though Pip's aunt had struck him but the witch was undeterred by his glower. More whispers among the Wizengamot.

Pip realised with a jolt of panic that they were coming to a decision. She strained her ears, trying to latch onto a sign of how they were swaying. Her nails dug so deeply into her palms that she was creating stinging impressions in the skin. Bill was bouncing on the spot beside her.

'It's far past time for a verdict. We have other matters to discuss,' Scrimgeour stated. 'Those in favour of conviction?'

Pip closed her eyes. She couldn't watch this. She thought she might be sick.

'Those in favour of clearing the accused?'

Pip hadn't suffered a longer, more agonising silence in her life. She clamped her mouth shut to stop herself from screaming. Eyes still scrunched up, her nails pressed deeper. Was that blood pooling against her fingertips?

What if Sirius was found guilty? What if he was condemned back to Azkaban? She wouldn't let them take him, wand be damned. She'd start swinging and wouldn't stop until -

A gavel sounded with a resounding bang. 'Cleared of all charges.'

Pip's lids flew open, her heart stopping and restarting.

Bill let out a cheer and captured her in a hug. She stood there, numb for a moment, before she remembered how to move and fiercely hugged him back. There were tears welling in the corners of her eyes and she was shaking with unbridled, uncontrollable laughter.

It was done. It was alright. Sirius was free.

Pip peered around Bill. Sirius had sprung from the chair and was clasping a beaming Harry. He was surrounded by the Order, who were each shouting and yahooing. Dumbledore donned an easy smile, as though he'd known this would happen all along.

Pip couldn't remember a more euphoric moment.

She wanted to dance in circles, scream and shout, arms raised skywards, but instead settled for scrambling towards Sirius. She pushed past witnesses and Wizengamot members clearing out, gaze not faltering from him until Amelia Bones stepped into her path.

'You promised me no trouble,' her aunt chastised, forcefully embracing her nonetheless. She pulled back to scrutinize Pip with a stern glare, monocle flashing.

Pip could only laugh. She was feather light, her stomach performing joyous somersaults. 'I'm sorry, aunty, really!'

Amelia shook her head. She reached into her ceremonial robes and handed Pip the clutch she'd so stupidly forgotten at Cuffe's party. Pip retrieved the wand within, fingers flexing around it gratefully. If she was smart, she'd cast a permanent sticking charm between the wand and her hand so she was physically incapable of doing something so momentously idiotic again.

'Only you would wrestle with a Death Eater, Ophelia,' her aunt sighed. Her gaze travelled to the gauze on Pip's head and she sighed again. 'Unfortunately, I have to go. We have another name for the aurors – Peter Pettigrew of all people. What is the world coming to...'

Amelia Bones squeezed Pip one last time and departed.

The courtroom was almost deserted now. Only the Order remained huddled in the stands, each member congratulating Sirius or slapping him on the back. Pip's steps suddenly became tentative. Sirius's voice was the most welcome sound in the world, but for whatever reason, it also made her nervous. She drifted awkwardly at the edge of the circle, unseen.

'Is she awake yet?' she heard Sirius ask.

'I'm right here.'

The Order parted and Pip caught a flash of Sirius's blinding smile before she was crushed against his chest. The two rocked on the spot, a smile splitting Pip's mouth, any trace of that strange shyness instantly gone. Head resting against his heart, completely wrapped in his smoky smell, Pip wished she could stay like that until old age came calling.

Sirius pressed a kiss to her forehead, not relinquishing his hold. 'Fucking hell Pip...you scared the shit out of me.'

'You scared the shit out of me,' she countered, peeking up at him.

'You both scared the shit out of all of us,' Tonks suggested as a halfway point.

Pip could hear Molly berating Bill as an accessory to her escape in the background and the others offering their happiness she wasn't dead. But it was hard to concentrate on anything other than the way Sirius was looking at her.

Someone - Arthur, maybe - cleared their throat, suggesting the others step outside for some fresh air...not that the underground hallways were in abundant supply of it.

Mad-Eye had to haul Harry along with them, but not before he threw his arms around Pip. 'Thank you,' Harry said embarrassedly, a blush on his cheeks. Moody heaved him the rest of the way.

A moment passed between Sirius and Pip in which the two simply grinned at each other.

'You're free,' Pip said.

'I'm free,' Sirius repeated, hardly daring to trust it. 'And I'm alive. I can't believe you did that,' he murmured, fingers reaching for the wound on Pip's forehead. 'Fuck, Pip...'

Pip smiled, in disbelief herself. 'Me either. But I have to say, taking down Bellatrix Lestrange was a highlight of the night. One for the metaphorical grandchildren, I think.'

Sirius chuckled. 'How's your head?'

'Sore,' Pip admitted with a rakish grin. 'I may need mouth-to-mouth.'

He let out another bark of laughter, and Pip stopped to admire him. He'd been free for a sum total of five minutes but fuck did freedom agree with him. Already, the lines were disappearing from his face, the torment fading from his silver eyes. He was practically glowing. Sirius's laughter was the laughter of a man with a world of golden promise stretching before him...a man with fifteen lost years to make up.

The doubts cleared from Pip's heart. She knew now what she had to do, regardless of how much she didn't want to do it. Sirius deserved a chance to be utterly, truly, ridiculously free. Free from misery, free from regret, free from obligations. Obligations like Pip.

And so she told him that.

Pip weighed each word, and Sirius's expression shifted a million times as she spoke. Reluctance brewed in his eyes and he burst forth to oppose too many times to count. But as she explained herself – in perhaps the most mature moment of Pip's life – he realised she wasn't going to relent.

Sirius's lips were a thin line, the argument still burning beneath the surface of his features. 'What if I don't want to do this?' he tested.

But Pip was resolute.

What was freedom if he wasted it on something he already had? She didn't say so, but she had to be sure Sirius knew what he wanted. If by some miracle, what he wanted was still Pip, the two might find their way back to each other.

After he'd had a chance to go out into this new, wild world, and after the two had survived a war.

'Are you sure about this?' Sirius pressed. Pip wished she could reach across and smooth out his brow with her fingers.

No.

'I mean, is this what you want?'

No.

But Pip slowly bobbed her head; it almost hurt to do it. It could've easily been the cracked skull, but Pip suspected it had more to do with the regret seeping through her as she left him in the empty courtroom. Only time would tell.