August 25, 1991 was the day before the big court date, Potter vs. Dursley,the lawsuit in which Uncle Vernon would hopefully be left broke and humiliated. It was also the day Sirius picked up his first bottle of the pills he was supposed to be taking. He had been given a full psychiatric evaluation just like Harry's, and Dr. Stefansen had diagnosed him with PTSD and recommended therapy and some prescription medication.

Sirius seemed a little suspicious that evening as he dumped one of the little green pills into his hand. The shrink had told him to take two a day—one in the morning and one at night.

"I don't know about this," he said. "You're saying these little pills will make me feel happier?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

"Isn't that what alcohol is for?" said Sirius jokingly, but Harry frowned, so he added, "How am I supposed to swallow this anyway? It's really chalky."

"You haven't ever taken an aspirin or Tylenol or anything?" Harry asked. "You know, for headaches and colds?"

"We have potions for stuff like that!"

"Okay, well, you just take them with water," Harry explained, as patiently as he could. "Put the pill in your mouth, and then just swallow it as you swallow the water."

"Could I have a glass, then, please?" Sirius asked, not without some trepidation.

Harry got a glass of water and brought it to Sirius, who put one of the pills on his tongue, then took a big gulp of the water. Unfortunately, the water went down, but the pill didn't. It stuck on Sirius's tongue, so he kept drinking more water to make it go down, but that just made it more stuck, and he started panicking and coughing and choking on the water.

"Dislodge it with your teeth!" Harry shouted. "Then drink some water and it will go down! I promise!"

Sirius finally managed to get the pill unstuck and with a shudder and one more gigantic gulp of water, it finally went down. Harry ran to refill the glass and let Sirius drink the whole thing, then brought him some chocolate, which would help get the taste out of his mouth.

"Thanks," said a rattled Sirius, taking a bite of the chocolate.

"You're welcome," said Harry. "That happens to everyone who takes prescription medicine at some point or another. It won't be like that every time."

"I don't feel any happier, though," Sirius told him, looking around with his hands on his hips.

"Antidepressants don't work right away," Harry explained. "They have to go into your bloodstream, and then your medicated blood goes to your brain and fixes the problem…or something like that."

"If they stop the nightmares, I'll never say another word against them," Sirius said, sitting down at the kitchen table. "You know, I talked to Dr. Stefansen about all this. He said I have to face my trauma, instead of putting it out of my head. He says I have to expose myself to stuff that reminds me of it. When I was there for the first time, he made me write out my whole life story on a piece of paper."

"What was that like?" asked Harry, his tone hushed, although he didn't know why.

"It was like when they did the appeal, and we had to go into the Pensieve to see my memories," Sirius began, looking down. "Really horrible. You ever used a Pensieve, Harry?"

"No."

"Well, you remove your thoughts from your head and put them into a magical device, from which you can view your thoughts," Sirius explained. "You can also go into the Pensieve, and view the memories as if you were there."

"Is that what the Ministry made you do?" said Harry, feeling sorry for Sirius.

"Yeah, they did," Sirius replied sadly. "They made me replay the memory where Peter, James and Lily did the Fidelius Charm. I was there, and I watched them do it, holding you in my lap. It was all I could do to not break down in front of the Ministry. But Dr. Stefansen says I have to relive my memories, because otherwise they'll conquer me. He said that the longer the memories of my trauma stay locked inside my subconscious, the worse I'll get, and if you hadn't staged this intervention, I might have completely lost my sanity."

"Did you, y'know…cry?" Harry asked, half-hoping the answer would be yes, since he thought he would feel a little better if Sirius had cried, because then he wouldn't be the only one who had done so.

"Well…when we were doing the writing thing, I was almost to the part where I went to Godric's Hollow on the day after the attack," said Sirius. "I mean, I had to take out the part about the Fidelius Charm, of course, but I did write that we trusted a friend with your parents' location, and that he gave them away. But then I found I couldn't write the rest of it down. I just couldn't, because I could see it in my head—even though in hindsight, I guess that was the point…Anyway, I told him I couldn't write anymore, and he told me I had to keep going, that me blocking the memories was exactly the problem, and…well, you could say things got a little ugly after that."

"Sirius, you didn't yell at him, did you?" said Harry exasperatedly.

"I'll admit I lost my temper a bit," said Sirius, looking embarrassed, then paused. "Look, I didn't attack him or anything. I just pounded my fists on the table and repeated that I couldn't do it, then he told me to use my inside voice, and then I asked him how HE would feel if his best friend was murdered and some douchenozzle made him relive it—"

"You called Dr. Stefansen a douchenozzle?!"

"I might have," said Sirius. "But you see, at the time, I kind of thought he was being one."

"What happened then?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"The shrink kept strangely calm," said Sirius. "I mean, he offered me a drink of water, and then I shouted that I didn't want a drink of water, I wanted him to stop making me face my trauma—I mean, why would I want to face it? And then he said if I faced it enough I would become less sensitive over time, and then—I was really angry at this point—I told him I would NEVER become less sensitive about what happened, that I would NEVER forget, that it would eat away at me for the rest of my life, and that I hated myself for surviving when they didn't—and then it was like all my bad memories hit me at once, so I just sort of collapsed onto the couch and I couldn't say anything at all…But it was really weird. He just sat there in his chair and let me rage at him. I was never told to shut up or anything."

"Maybe you aren't the first person to get angry with him during an assignment like that," Harry said thoughtfully. "But still…you know he's just trying to help, right?"

"Yeah," said Sirius. "I know. I apologized to him before I left."

Harry knew Sirius well by now, and he could imagine how a psychotherapy session focusing on his childhood and the Potters' death would go—in short, not well. He was also wondering why Dr. Stefansen hadn't prescribed a higher dose of the meds after that incident, but he didn't say so. Instead he smiled at Sirius and sat down across from him.

"You'll get better, Sirius," he said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. "I think you were really brave."

…

The next day, though, was Harry's turn to be brave. It was finally time to meet the Dursleys in court again. Harry realized that he didn't really need the money he would hopefully get out of the settlement, but the point was that the Dursleys did need that money. Dudley wouldn't be so spoiled after Uncle Vernon became bankrupt. Maybe, Harry thought gleefully, they would have to move, and Dudley would have to sleep in a room that was no bigger than Harry's old cupboard. Or even smaller! Maybe Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would tell him that they couldn't get him any presents for Christmas or his birthday, because they could barely pay for food!

"What are you smiling about?" said Sirius as they walked to the motorcycle.

"Just picturing the lawsuit," Harry told him.

They got to the courthouse after the Dursleys, this time. Harry was both amazed and pleased to see how frightened they looked. Mr. Glacier was there, too, as well as Dr. Grant and Dr. Stefansen. Harry noticed how Sirius avoided Dr. Stefansen's eyes.

"Harry!" Dr. Grant smiled and bent down to give Harry a hug. "How are you doing, honey?"

"I'm fine," Harry told her. "I'm taking that growth stuff you prescribed, and I think I'm getting taller. Just a little, though."

"Wonderful," she replied. "I've got all your test results here with me. Dr. Stefansen has too, I'm sure."

"Hello, Mr. Potter," said Dr. Stefansen, reaching out to shake hands. "Good to see you."

"Good to see you too," Harry said, and then took him aside. "Look…Sirius told me about what happened at your last appointment."

"Oh, yes," said Dr. Stefansen knowingly.

"Well, he's really sorry," said Harry. "It's just hard for him to talk about it. Or write about it."

"Over time, I hope it will become less hard," said Dr. Stefansen. "Avoiding triggers may help in the short-term, Mr. Potter. But in the long-term, this can prevent recovery. Only when your godfather comes to terms with these events can he really move on."

"Move on?" asked Harry. "Do you mean…forget all that stuff?"

"No," Dr. Stefansen said mysteriously. "Just become at peace with it."

Harry thought this would take a lot of work, but he didn't say anything more, because that was when Mr. Glacier told everyone it was time to come into the courthouse. As they walked in, Harry got a look at the Dursleys' lawyer. He was bald as can be, with a hawkish expression, and he was wearing a red suit the color of blood.

"Does the Plaintiff have an opening statement?" asked Judge Corriveau, a man in a wig and black robes.

"We do, your Honor," said Mr. Glacier, and he stood up, pacing the courtroom with one hand behind his back like on a courtroom drama. "My name is Bernard Glacier, Esquire. I have worked in family law for forty-nine years. And yet in all those years of work, I have to say that my client's case is one of the foulest, one of the vilest, one of the obscenest cases with which I have ever been presented."

"Could you explain further?" said the judge.

"The Plaintiff calls the first witness to the stand," said Mr. Glacier, pointing to the witness soapbox. "I give you renowned pediatrician Dr. Elizabeth Grant."

Dr. Grant was wearing a black pantsuit with matching black high heels. Her dyed-blonde hair was straightened, but curled up at the ends.

"Not long ago, I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Harry James Potter," Dr. Grant said. It sounded as if she was picking her words slowly and deliberately. "I could see right away that his physical well-being had suffered greatly at the ends of his previous legal guardians. Harry is very far behind on the growth curve for boys his age, both in terms of height and weight. He had not had his booster shots, and he needed some dental work. More extensive tests were also administered. Blood testing revealed that he had serious vitamin deficiencies, and his eyeglass prescription was also highly out-of-date. This is all proof of severe malnourishment, as well as failure to provide proper medical care to the Plaintiff."

"Indeed," said Judge Corriveau, looking grim. "I believe the court ordered a psychiatric evaluation as well?"

"Dr. Maurice Stefansen requests permission to approach the stand, your Honor," said Dr. Stefansen, standing up. He was holding some papers in his hands. When Judge Corriveau nodded for him to approach the soapbox, he began talking. "I recently gave Mr. Potter a full psychiatric evaluation at my office. Although he is a kind person, it was clear to me that his upbringing, if it can be called that, has affected him in many negative ways. For instance, they have deprived Mr. Potter of the Critical Love Stage."

"And what is that?" asked the judge.

"Well, science has proven that children have a certain 'window' in which they must learn things like language, lest they never be able to learn," Dr. Stefansen replied. "Critical Love Theory states that there is a similar period for a child to receive love and attention, and if the child in question does not receive proper care during the Critical Love Stage, he or she will be stunted in terms of emotional development, or have difficulty in those areas. Typical reactions can be mood swings, a tendency to be overly self-conscious, and lack of trust for oneself and others. This was clear to me when I observed that Mr. Potter was adamantly against expressing his feelings. I could see right away that since Mr. Potter has been deprived of love during a period of life in which it was imperative that he have some, he has developed a sort of complex in which he believes he does not deserve love, or that love for him has to be earned. He also has a great deal of self-confidence and trust issues. He stated openly that there were many times, before he met his godfather, in which he felt lonely and helpless."

Harry didn't like how the entire courtroom was now staring at him. He wished Dr. Stefansen hadn't revealed all that, but then, the shrink kind of had to, because otherwise they might not win the case. When he glanced at the Dursleys and their lawyer, he saw that they looked petrified.

"Their goose is cooked," Sirius murmured, noticing who Harry was looking at.

"Any more witnesses?" asked the judge.

"Permission to approach the stand, your Honor," Sirius said, standing up and walking to the soapbox. As soon as he was there, he immediately began to talk. "I have known Harry Potter since the day he was born. Unfortunately, I was not able to keep him after his parents' death, due to being falsely imprisoned for their murder. Luckily, I have been cleared of all charges.

"That said, when I was released late last June, I ran into Harry when he was visiting the zoo with the Dursleys and a family friend of theirs. He looked much worse that day than he does now. His clothes were hand-me-downs from his cousin, his glasses were old and taped together, and he informed me that not only did the Dursleys lie to him about the circumstances of his parents' death—they claimed the Potters had been killed in a car accident—but they also kept him in a cupboard, locked him in there as a punishment and often withheld food. All he had eaten that day was some leftover ice cream and potato chips. Although it seems that the Dursleys did not regularly physically abuse Harry, he has informed me that he has been beaten on rare occasions, or struck with objects. As for his emotional suffering, I wouldn't disagree with a word Dr. Stefansen just said about him."

"There you have it," Mr. Glacier added, as Sirius stepped down from the stand and returned to his seat. "Mr. Potter suffered from neglect, plus emotional and physical abuse."

"Does—does the defense have an opening statement?" Judge Corriveau looked very shaken up now.

"Yes," said the lawyer in the blood-red suit, standing up. "My name is Jason Fleer, Esquire. Your Honor, Harry Potter was left on the Dursleys' doorstep unannounced ten years ago, with nothing but a letter to explain things. They were not consulted or given time to prepare. However, Mr. Potter was placed with them by default, as Petunia Dursley was his only remaining living relative, and under the circumstances, they did the best they possibly could in terms of food, clothing, and shelter—"

"Objection!" Sirius shouted. "If that was true, he'd be a pampered prince like their massive son!"

"How DARE you insult my Dudders!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, standing up, but Sirius just made a rude hand gesture and stood up too.

"Living in a cupboard is NOT proper shelter, not when you had a whole spare bedroom!" Sirius continued, as Uncle Vernon sat down in shock. "Overlarge, ragged hand-me-downs are NOT proper clothing, not when Dudley always gets everything new! And how on Earth can you claim to have provided proper food when he's so obviously malnourished? What is wrong with you? How could you possibly treat another human being this way—your own flesh and blood!"

Judge Corriveau frowned. "Mr. Black, please—"

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO SUCH AN INNOCENT CHILD?!" Sirius roared. "YOU HAVE MONEY—YOU HAVE YOUR WHALE OF A SON—AND YOU HAVE YOUR NEPHEW TOO!"

"It's okay, Sirius," said Harry. "You can sit down now."

"It doesn't go away." Sirius's voice was slightly calmer now, although cold as ice, but then he said something that surprised everyone. "I can say this firsthand, as a victim of child abuse myself. It stays with you, wherever you go. After years and years, it still hurts. I'm going to give Harry what I never got—a chance at a normal childhood. You horrible Dursleys were going to treat him horribly for the rest of his life if I hadn't turned up. This is both my duty and my pleasure as godfather, to give Harry a home he deserves."

Sirius, white-faced, sat down. Harry, touched, slowly began to clap. Dr. Stefansen did too, then Dr. Grant, and then Judge Corriveau, and soon all were clapping except the Dursleys and their lawyer.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, giving Sirius a hug. Sirius hugged him back. And then the courtroom doors burst open.

Everyone's heads swiveled around to look. There, standing in the doorway, were two police officers, both of them looking downright murderous.

"You called the police on us, boy?!" Uncle Vernon bellowed across the room.

"No," said a triumphant, familiar voice from the doorway. "I did."

The two police officers parted, and there, staring down the Dursleys, two cats standing at her side like soldiers at attention, was…

"Mrs. Figg?!" Harry gasped.

"That's right," said Mrs. Figg in a strong voice, stepping into the courtroom. "I'm doing what I should have done years ago. Harry, what your aunt and uncle need is a nice long stay in the stony lonesome."

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, you are under arrest for child abuse and endangerment," the bigger police officer said, grabbing hold of Uncle Vernon and cuffing him. The other did the same to Aunt Petunia.

"Well, too bad, because the boy won't be able to testify at the trial!" Uncle Vernon shouted. "He's going off to boarding school in a few days!"

"Oh, is that so?" said the other police officer, the one holding Aunt Petunia. "Well, then, we can have the trial when he gets back in June. Until then, I think jail will be just fine."

"But-but-but…" Uncle Vernon was spluttering.

"I don't talk to child abusers," the policeman said in a dark voice, yanking him along roughly.

"And before you go," said the judge, slamming down his gavel, "the jury has reached a unanimous decision. Mr. Harry James Potter will be awarded with a settlement of one million pounds."

Everyone but the Dursleys cheered; Dr. Grant, Mr. Glacier, Mrs. Figg, Dr. Stefansen, Harry and Sirius all hugged each other. Mrs. Figg was crying happy tears, and Harry made sure to hug her especially tight. Even Mrs. Figg's cats mewled gleefully and pawed at their feet.

"Hope you like prison!" Sirius jeered as the police took Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia away. "It stinks!"

"Just like you lot!" Harry added, and they laughed.

TO BE CONTINUED!