Chapter 2: In bad shape in a whole new way

"Ministry of Magic!"

The fire went green as Sirius Black threw some floo powder in it.

The wizard took a deep breath and walked in.

The world spinned, and there he was, in the Atrium. At first, people didn't pay attention to him. After all, there was enough to deal with as it was. You-Know-Who was back, The-Boy-Who-Lived had been telling the truth all along and was having a fit, Fudge was this close to being deposed, Dumbledore had broken into the Ministry pretty easily, Death Eaters were being sent to Azkaban right away and even before their trials, Lucius Malfoy of all people was one of them, Sirius Black was not only innocent but dead too, and...

The wizards and witches he passed by needed a moment to register what they had just seen.

Sirius Black was not only innocent but dead too, and yet he was there, going to his godson.

They could have shrieked, or shouted, or yelled, Sirius mused, but they only stayed silent as recognition invaded their faces.

Not only the wanted wizard was alive and in the Atrium, walking to Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge, royally ignoring the fact that several aurors were present, but he looked like the pictures from his arrest, not like the current ones.

And if one had looked closely enough, they could have seen that thin shreds of darkness were roaming on his skin.

Sirius had almost joined his godson when someone finally said something.

"Black."

Only a whisper.

"Black?"

Another whisper.

"Black..."

One more whisper.

"Black!"

And everyone was starring at him.

But Sirius didn't care.

All he could see was that, though Harry was alive, he wasn't alright.

Not at all.

The fifteen-years-old teenager was shivering, sitting on the floor, and nothing Dumbledore attempted to calm him down was working. As he came closer, Sirius heard him muttering, saw his unfocused eyes, the dried tears on his face, the damned scar redder than he had ever seen it.

"He killed my mother and my father. He killed Cedric. She killed Sirius. Everybody dies, everybody, everybody..."

And so on and so on.

Sirius' eyes darted to Dumbledore, who was now looking at him with an unreadable look on his face, and frankly the wizard was almost happy that they had something more urgent to discuss – that was, Harry – than his sudden resurrection.

"What happened?"

The old man smiled gently, as if their was nothing dubious going on with his presence, and answered. It wasn't a joyful smile, more of a sad, resigned smile, but it was Dumbledore's way of behaving. Always calm and protective.

It was a relief, in a way. Sirius knew the old wizard was ready to hex him into oblivion if he only dared to approach Harry with bad intentions. Not that he had any. But well. He was back from the dead, or at least that was what he looked like to anyone who knew him to have fallen through the Veil. Dumbledore included. It was strange enough to be suspicious.

"Voldemort tried to get in his head, and succeeded. He is gone now, but I fear it... triggered some unwanted memories."

Sirius sighed. He was tired, and felt like he could break into pieces anytime. But he had to help his godson. Harry was the sole reason for his decision to use the Reciprocation Curse. He could wait a bit more before collapsing.

The man showed both his hands and once everyone had seen he had no wand or any other kind of weapon with him, he went straight to Harry.

He knew Dumbledore was watching him, oh yes, he knew it. But he also knew that the old wizard's concern was legitimate. After all, he couldn't possibly have failed to notice the stench of darkness emanating from him. The wizard was Albus bloody Dumbledore. He recognized an user of the Dark Arts when he saw one. And so he knew that Sirius Black had done something. Or that he had been subjected to something.

Dumbledore knew Sirius had been infected with dark magic.

Sirius knew Dumbledore knew.

It could only mean the headmaster trusted him enough not to jump to the obvious conclusion.

He was grateful to the old man for letting him near Harry even knowing this.

The teenager flinched when he saw Sirius, but he didn't seem to believe it was really him.

"Hey, Harry, calm down, would you? You see, I'm alive. I'm perfectly fine, so don't worry. You can withstand this much pressure. So, get him out of your head. Now!"

It took several more minutes for the boy to really calm down. But it had worked. His godfather's voice had somehow gotten him to snap out of it.

Once he was certain Harry would be fine, Sirius looked at Dumbledore and asked him to take the teenager back to Hogwarts. His godson needed care, no matter what, and him himself wasn't in any shape to accompany him.

The old wizard nodded sharply, and created a portkey to get himself and Harry back to the school. Journalists were already trying to snatch some pictures, and the Ministry was such a mess right now even the officials couldn't get everything to stay in order. Harry had had his fair share of publicity for the night.

But Sirius should have guessed the silence would break once the Boy-Who-Lived and Dumbledore left. He should have guessed that all eyes would dart back onto him. He should have guessed it wasn't only about Harry, Dumbledore and Voldemort.

Now, it was also about him.

He had come back from the wanted man position, he had come back from the Death Eater accusations, he had come back from death even.

People were asking questions, whispering between themselves, and of course, no one would dare to approach and talk to him in person.

Sirius snorted and sat on the remains of the Foutain of Magical Brethren. He was feeling sick. Mentally and physically. All he wanted was to sit here, in silence, and wait for Remus and the others to come back from the Department of Mysteries. Dumbledore had told him the adults were still down there, making sure with other aurors that no Deaths Eaters were hiding behind a shelf.

Sirius wondered if they had found the purple and yellow Death Eater yet.

What would Remus say?

What would all the members of the Order say?

They had seen him die.

Well, he could still argue that little was known about the Veil, that maybe it wasn't a path to death.

As if they'd believe that. He was literally engulfed in dark magic, and he thought they wouldn't notice? In the heat of the moment, maybe. But he was just that eligible for a prolonged time in St. Mungo's. No way he'd be able to hide his state from the healers.

And hell, he had a body that looked something like fifteen years younger than it should.

He couldn't hide that, could he?

People weren't whispering anymore, and Sirius looked up as footsteps made it known that several persons were coming for him.

Of course.

Five aurors were surrounding him, wands pulled out, and Cornelius Fudge was standing behind them, clearly as dumbfounded as before, but willing to act, even if foolishly. No one would say he hadn't done anything the very night He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been known to be alive and killing, so to say.

Still, he looked like he was about to puke his guts out.

Welcome to the club, man.

"Sirius Orion Black?"

Sirius recognized the senior auror as part of his own team back in the day, well, what should have become his team if Peter hadn't...

He nodded carefully. He knew everyone was basically on edge, and didn't want to alarm any of the present aurors. He hadn't survived Azkaban, escaped the Ministry's frantic search, and hijacked his cousin's life to be accidentally killed.

"May I ask for your wand? Your arrest is obviously out of the question after the most recent events, but you are still a person of interest in several cases. Your... situation being as it is, we believe it'd be more prudent and well perceived for you to be under close watch."

In other words, they didn't trust him, and he certainly was going to finally get his trial. All in all, they were right and he was content with the decision.

"I don't have my wand. It fell near the Veil in the Death Chamber, I believe."

And he slowly stood up for them to search him.

Once they were satisfied, they stepped back and Fudge came over to mumble some kind of apology about the previous administration's... mistake, and his own eagerness to have the wizard Kissed for the last three years.

Sirius barked a laugh at that and assured the man he had known worse misjudgment coming from his own mother. Of course, he was only half-joking. His mother had been downright mental indeed. But being best buddies with Dementors for twelve years might have altered his conception of injustice a bit more than it already was.

To be honest, that wasn't what was bothering him at the moment.

The fact that he was abnormaly light-headed, while all his body was going numb, wasn't to be taken lightly, he knew that well enough.

His years in Azkaban had gotten him to know more than what was necessary about weakness and suffering, and the knowledge he had about the Reciprocation Curse was adamant about one thing. The curse was a freakingly dark spell.

And Sirius had used it, not only to exchange his life for his murderer's, but to regain a body too.

This body of his had been created – or taken back, whatever – thanks to the curse. It was surely not stable yet. Hell, he could feel it, the swirls of darkness roaming on and under his skin.

People were still eyeing him, staying cautiously behind the aurors as they did it, when a door slammed and caught everyone's attention. Remus, Moody, Tonks and Kingsley, with three on-duty aurors, walked in the Atrium, wands pointed at the back of the last Death Eaters found in the Department of Mysteries. Sirius smirked when he saw that his purple and yellow fiend was still... well, purple and yellow.

But that was the fun part of it. The not-so-fun part of it didn't take long to kick him in the face.

Moody had the younger aurors deal with the last two Death Eaters, and watched over the whole thing. Tonks and Kingsley were still a bit taken aback by the proportions the event had blown up into, and glared at any journalist attemptng to take pictures of the destroyed fountain, the bewildered Minister... and the man standing alone behind a human wall of aurors.

Remus's eyes squinted and Sirius saw him clenching on his wand. In his other hand, the werewolf held onto his best friend's wand. Something warm woke up in the ex-convict's chest, something like... being grateful.

So Sirius did something seriously bold.

He called for the attention of the other three members of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Kingsley, the body of my dear cousin is laying on the floor of the kitchen. You'd better get it before Kreacher tries to snatch it away."

And with that said, every auror present was once again pointing their wands at him threateningly, the whole audience burst into excitement, the journalists took notes. It was the first time Sirius Black had talked loud enough to be heard through the Atrium, and that was apparently to confess a murder. Realization about who was the said cousin hadn't struck home yet.

For a while, everybody stayed still, obviously wondering who would make the first move, the aurors or the Prisoner of Azkaban.

Remus was the first to react, walking slowly through the crowd, then passing by the aurors. He stopped three feet away from his best friend, blank face on.

"Bellatrix is dead?"

This time the uproar was loud enough to have Moody yelling a loud and frightening "Silence!".

Remus was still observing his bext friend, disturbed by what he was seeing.

First of all, Padfoot looked like his old self again. Second thing, he seemed in bad shape in a whole new way. Last but not least, Sirius Black was not dead. A good point, surely, if he were to forget that he had seen him die. Sirius wasn't supposed to be alive. Not after what had happened. So what had he done to stay alive? Had he given in to his... family legacy? There was no other explanation. The werewolf gnashed his teeth. Padfoot had given in to the Dark Arts.

Sirius looked him in the eyes.

"Bellatrix is dead."

It was still the same Sirius. Remus couldn't deny that.

But at the same time, it wasn't so comforting.

Sirius had proved he was able to kill many times before. Severus Snape was the living proof that Sirius knew how to hate too. Though the first statement had been proved true in situations where the wizard had had to protect his own life or someone else's, though everyone was potentially able to hate, Sirius still had a dark side.

And for a moment, right now, Remus wondered if all along, he had been wrong about his friend.

Was he fundamentally evil? Was he bound to end up bad?

Remus shivered when he understood that he was doing exactly the same thing he had done years ago. Not believing in his best friend, for twelve years. Thinking he had been wrong about Sirius. Thinking that Padfoot was only for the show, that Sirius Black wasn't Padfoot. Thinking that Sirius Black had been a traitor and a murderer whose real allegiance had lain with Voldemort.

He couldn't make the same mistake again.

His thinking was interrupted when Sirius started coughing. Something dark and not exactly corporeal got out of the man's throat, spattering his hands before turning into fumes which soon disappeared.

The werewolf felt a shiver running down his spine.

Remus, as a Being commonly considered dark, was particularly sensible to darkness. He liked to think he was simply more aware of the nature of things. After all, no one had the right to say that werewolves were evil because they were werewolves. He didn't think himself to be wrong considering he wasn't dark. Not because he was a werewolf, at least.

Still, facts were facts. He was much more sensible to the nature of things than the average human.

And that... thing, was so dark he was fighting the urge to get as far as possible from its emanations.

What the hell had Sirius done?

Remus saw one of the aurors hesitate to come closer, and made a sign to stay away. The werewolf was already too close, going back now would be meaningless if the thing was bad for their health, and moreover he certainly wasn't going to let his friend deal with it alone.

"Sirius?"

No answer.

"Padfoot."

The wizard looked up with difficulty.

"What's happening to you? You look like you've been hit by at least three dark spells at the same time. We need to do something."

"No, no, it's all right. I just... need to get it out of my system."

And Sirius really seemed to know what he was talking about, so Remus almost believed him. But seconds only after his statement, the man began to cough more violently than before. This time, the werewolf turned on his heels and went to talk to the older auror.

"Is St. Mungo's dark spells ward still in function? I'm afraid Sirius needs to be moved there quite urge..."

A weak voice interrupted him, and Remus wasn't surprised to recognize it as Sirius'. The man had a habit not to let anyone help him, ever. Frankly, his friend couldn't exactly blame him for that. Trust hadn't gotten him far during the last decade.

"I'm good, I told you. Now, would you plea..."

As if.

Remus took his commending, adult tone, and Sirius shut up. But it might have been because he was nearly having a fit, trembling as if he had spent too much time in a freezer, and refraining from vomiting once more.

"You're definitely not good. And what the hell did you do exactly? Everybody saw you falling through the Veil."

The last part was said as softly as possible. The various journalists present didn't need to learn how Sirius Black had cheated death right now, especially if that involved dark magic. And it surely involved dark magic. There was no telling with the shreds of darkness escaping the wizard's body. What Sirius had done... was at least borderline.

Maybe worse.

Of course, talking about it with aurors listening wasn't the smartest thing to do.

But keeping Sirius' secrets wasn't worth letting Sirius die.

And well, ultimately, Sirius had killed Bellatrix Lestrange. He had saved people's lives now and then through his life. The aurors weren't simply going to send him back to Azkaban for killing another escapee, wanted for murders and for torture, pawn of Lord Voldemort.

Or at least Remus hoped so.

Sirius eyed the aurors suspiciously, but eventually answered his best friend's question.

He didn't look him in the eyes, though.

He knew what he had done, and he knew what they would think.

"I used this spell that allows someone to exchange their life for their killers'. It's pretty random, and I wasn't certain it would work, since, you know, you don't get to practice much with such a spell, and casting it is a matter of seconds. But here I am, and Bella is as dead as one can be, so I guess it went smoothly. The only thing is that my body disappeared when it crossed the Veil, so the spell is trying to create a new one, and that's not exactly going well."

The looks the aurors and Remus gave him were more or less what he had predicted.

Horror for Moony.

Quick,-take-this-one-back-to-Azkaban-too for the aurors.

Luckily for him, he began coughing again, and that distracted the aurors' thoughts. Between Azkaban and almost dying from a dark spell, the ex-convict picked the second option anytime.

But this time, the coughing wouldn't end.

No, Sirius only fell to the ground, holding his stomach while a thick, black, foul-tasting liquid escaped his mouth. Soon enough, the pain was so terrible that the wizard clenched his fingers on his clothes. When the fabric was torn apart, his nails entered his skin. When his skin broke, his hands felt his flesh and cold, inhumanly cold blood, rushing against them.

The pool of blood which began to spread on the floor was sullied with dark threads.

Next to Sirius, rocky ruins of the Foutain of Magical Brethren broke into pieces under a flow of accidental magic. The wizard winced in horror as he felt his magic run out of his body and rush into almost anything it encountered. Objects broke, the water from the destroyed fountain boiled, the air around him went so cold the tears rolling down his cheeks froze. As he could, the wizard tried to keep his magic chained so it wouldn't get near any living being. He had no desire to see what his sullied magic would do to a human body.

Remus looked at his friend with awe, then snapped out of it and rushed to Sirius' side.

A wave of evil magic hit him in the right shoulder, and the werewolf paled. But it wasn't exactly a spell, and if the sensation had been dreadful, if he felt dark magic weighting on him as if to crush him, Remus could tell it wouldn't really harm him. It was more of a warning than anything else.

So he went on and joined the arched form of his best friend.

One look only was enough.

Sirius absolutely needed to be seen by a healer. Well, several healers, even.

"Everyone back away. Someone go to St. Mungo's and ask the healers to prepare a room with both restraining devices and dark magic equipements. Sirius, I'm sorry, but I'll have to stun you, as you seem eager to rip your own body apart."

The man grunted something, and the werewolf acted as if it was an agreement.

"Stupefy."

The red stunner hit Sirius right in the middle of his back, causing blackish blood to spurt out of his wounds. Remus more or less managed to get the stiff fingers out of Sirius' flesh.

"How the hell does someone do such a thing to themselves, really?"

He began healing the wounds as he could, but he was no healer and even though the bleeding hadn't been caused by dark magic, the blood itself seemed to be laced with it. Remus hoped the wounds would disappear with time, but nothing was less certain. Dark magic had a way to negate healing. Still, since this whole body had been... created with dark magic, maybe it wouldn't scar.

Maybe.

Why had Sirius meddled with dark magic, really?

Remus snorted. It wasn't as if the man had had any other choice to stay alive, was it? And at least, Bellatrix' death was a good riddance.

When the werewolf finished his work, he took a minute to breath and then looked around. His anger was consequent when he spotted the aurors, their wands pointing at them. No one had listened to him, apparently.

When he walked to the aurors, everyone in the Atrium took a step back.

Remus growled.

Those people were hopeless.

"Someone go and get a healer. Now."

The closest wizards and witches flinched as he glared at them. But no one moved to the fireplaces to use the floo, no one so much as moved. They were all here, staring at him wide-eyed. No surprise, after all: it had taken them to see Voldemort with their own eyes to believe what The-Boy-Who-Lived and Dumbledore had been shouting at them for one whole year.

But this, this...

Remus took a deep breath. He wasn't going to shout. He wasn't going to hex anyone. He wasn't going to be rude. He was going to act like an adult, a reasonable, responsible adult.

Oh, and the hell with it!

"If you wish to see a man die before your eyes because not even one of you is able to get a healer, do as you please. But let me warn you: whatever Sirius did, he is suffering as none of you has ever suffered. He has little control over his magic, and I can't guarantee it won't crack someone's skull open if he loses any ability to keep it near him, which, by the way, is worsening his own situation. After everything he did for the wizarding community, after everything he suffered from the wizarding community, he deserves at least not to accidently blow up the Ministry's Atrium in his last moments."

Whispers ran through the audience, and the werewolf saw some people fidget.

At least they were listening to him.

"Of course, you could argue that Sirius Black wouldn't be powerful enough to destroy the Atrium, when a battle between Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore has failed to do so."

Fudge, as several other officials, seemed to feel better at this statement.

But Remus hadn't finished yet.

"You'd be right, I guess. Nonetheless, if ever my dear friend let his magic go wild, we all know there would be casualties. Sirius Black isn't Voldemort, or Dumbledore. But accidental magic has no other limits than the wizard's or the witch's own powers, and while in school, as well as at other times in his life, Sirius has proved himself to be quite powerful, in spite of being gifted with cleverness and skills."

Remus waited a moment, breathed deeply, and went back to his diatribe.

"Certainly the Atrium wouldn't be destroyed. But what about your lives?"

The werewolf's eyes met with those of a young ministry employee, who had been his student two years prior. She seemed completely bewitched with his speech.

As were many others.

It wasn't sheer luck that Remus Lupin had been one of the most loved professors in Hogwarts, before the Shrieking Shack incident.

When he talked, people listened. When he wanted his class to be enthousiastic, when he wanted the students to enjoy a lesson, few were those who succeeded in not listening almost religiously. And when he wanted his audience to be attentive, no one dared to speak.

As surprising as it could seem, Remus Lupin was one with incredible charisma. He only wasn't one to use it. Being a werewolf surely had much to do with his quiet and discreet demeanor. He didn't want to be noticed. He didn't want people to notice what he was, if they took notice of him.

And so he worked hard to be in the shadows.

But even so, one who really knew him, knew he wasn't the self-effaced man everyone thought.

Friends with Sirius Black and James Potter. An effective way to stay hidden.

And still, he had always been somewhat unable to completely conceal his charisma, which was equal to his two friend's. Evidence to support, Peter Pettigrew. Sirius and James were the public face of the Marauders, Peter was the follower, but Remus was the secret member of the group's triumvirate. His point of view weighed as much as the two other's, while Peter's... was rarely heard. Or spoken, to be exact.

And right now, he held the attention of most of his audience.

"We all know how dangerous unbridled magic can be. As a child, it is not such a threat, seeing as the kid's potential is still mostly hypothetical. But what about our wizarding deceases that take away a witch's or wizard's ability to control their magic? Has it never occurred in the past, that ill magical people end up killing, without meaning it, nearby individuals?"

His point had apparently struck home, and several other people were trying to walk as far away as they could.

Remus glanced anxiously at his friend – still stunned. The blood flow had stopped, but Sirius had lost too much blood, and he absolutely needed to be taken to St. Mungo's. Like, right away.

"So whatever you may think about Sirius Black, the safest course of action, not only for him, but for yourself too, would be to get him to an equipped facility. His trial, his guilt or his innocence, can be investigated later. It is not only his life which is at stake, but ours too."

Silence took over the Atrium.

Remus gave the other members of the Order a disappointed look. A simple glance to Moody had been enough for him to understand why they weren't moving either. The ex-auror, of course, could see what was going on with Sirius. His magical eye was more than enough to reveal the nature of what the man had done. Dark magic, certainly, and the Dark Arts, more than likely, had been used.

The questions every member of the Order of the Phoenix was asking.

Had Sirius Black fallen to the Dark Arts?

Over, and over again.

Had Black gone dark?

The same as before.

Yes.

Had he?

He had.

The same as before. Don't ask. The answer was obvious.

But why was Lupin playing along?

Idiot, he was a werewolf! Maybe he had tried to fool us, but in the end, he was a dark creature. He wasn't even... human!

Don't be stupid, it's Remus we were talking about. Not Greyback or any other werewolf. It's Remus. He is part of the Order! Dumbledore wouldn't have let him in if he wasn't sure...

Dumbledore only saw the good in a person. He was bound to put aside Lupin's nature, believing everyone could be good, when we all knew werewolves to be evil.

And even if Lupin tried, it was possible that he decided he would stick with Black in the end, even if the man had gone evil. Being dark surely wouldn't be so disturbing for him. After all...

He was a werewolf.

Was that what they were all thinking, or was Remus only growing paranoid?

"Whatever, Moody. He's my cousin, he fought with us, he killed my degenerate aunt, and now, he's dying in the middle of the Ministry's Atrium, and no one is even trying to do anything. I don't care if he used a bit of dark magic to stay alive and kill Bellatrix, I don't care if this comment were to cost me my job as an auror. After everything the Ministry did during this year, I'm not sure I wish to stay anyway. I won't judge Sirius before we even get the truth about what happened."

Remus recognized this voice instantly, coming from where Shacklebolt, Moody and several other aurors were standing, their wands still aimed at the last Death Eater left to be sent to Azkaban.

With those words, Tonks was the one to finally leave and get a healer.

The werewolf felt as if he had been unable to breath for too long a time. He'd be grateful to his best friend's young cousin for years to come.

Nymphadora Tonks' departure stirred the audience, who went back to whispering.

Fudge, who had been getting frankly uncomfortable with the whole thing, suddenly shouted something no one heard very well. Still, he had gotten everyone's attention, and the only noises now heard were those of pictures being taken for the next day's newspapers.

The Minister cleared his throat. He was shaking as if he had been tossed into a frozen lake, and he frequently eyed the still form of Sirius Black, not that far away from himself.

"I know I just said we wouldn't take Sirius Black into custody, due to the last events, but now I believe I was wrong. The use of the Dark Arts which is pretty obvious from the condition this wizard is in, combined with the avowal of murder, forces me to reconsider my previous position. If Sirius Black isn't guilty of what had him brought in Azkaban fourteen years ago, I can't ignore his new implication with the Dark Arts. This time, we'll see for him to have a proper trial, but..."

"And what? Are you going to let the dementors destroy him once more? Is all this not enough to prove he isn't guilty? This man is already breaking into pieces, and you'd want him in jail?"

Everyone froze in the Atrium.

Remus, red with anger, was looking for the one who had the audacity to speak up for his friend.

It had been a feminin voice, the voice of a confident but angry woman.

Somewhere on his left, people moved, and the werewolf turned towards the movement's source.

Astonished wizards and witches were opening a path for a witch wearing robes marked with the Office of Misinformation's logo.

She was beautiful, a bit stern-looking, but sweet at the same time. Her light blond hair was pulled back in what seemed to be some sort of chignon, but when Remus took a closer look at it, he was surprised to find out she had in fact used her wand as a hairstick. Long strands of hair had escaped her hairstyle, and the werewolf finally mused she had done it without really caring, as if to put her wand away... Her eyes were an enthralling green, which he was sure he'd already seen somewhere...

Looking back to her attire, Remus finally noticed her golden earrings.

Eleanor Rowle.

No wonder everyone was so surprised.

The Rowles, a pureblooded family with a seat in the Wizenmagot, weren't exactly known for their benevolence. Actually, they were mostly known for having supported four of the five last dark lords, and one of the youngest sons had been sent to Azkaban after Voldemort's demise for Death Eater activities.

Eleanor Rowle was his younger sister.

Why she would help Sirius Black was a mystery.

Then again, the woman herself was a mystery. From what Remus knew of her, she wasn't one to be involved in anything dark, and had decided not to listen to her family about Voldemort and the Dark Arts in general. It didn't mean she wasn't sharing the dark lord's ideas, after all, there was often a world between what one showed and what they really were.

But it was enough to make her a mystery.

"Miss Rowle, I don't think you have any right to..."

The woman glared at Fudge, and the Minister literally shrank.

"I don't have any right to defend a man who can't do it himself? Remember who you are talking to, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge. Eleanor Adelaid Rowle, a Ministry employee and a member of the House of Rowle. I do know my rights, Minister, and I do know Sirius Black's."

Cornelius Fudge was becoming greener by the minute, unsure of what to do. He didn't like seeing a Rowle siding with a Black. Even more when the allegiances of each of them were... unclear.

But Eleanor wasn't done with the Minister.

She passed by him to join Remus and Sirius, but her eyes never left Fudge as she did so.

"Sirius Black is the Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, he is a man who has possibly been wrongly jailed for twelve years in Azkaban, a man who has been tracked down with the intent to kill for three years, a man who may have sacrificed his life and freedom to protect us from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named despite how the wizarding world has treated him for the past fifteen years. He has been broken into pieces by the dementors for years, he is currently about to die, and you'd want to sent him back to the worst prison on Earth? He would never survive this, and you would put an end to the name of Black."

Many voices rose in the crowd.

Some wanted to hex Fudge for the sole idea of ending quite accidently the bloodline of the House of Black. Purebloods, halfbloods, muggleborns. It wasn't about the purity of the Black blood, at least not for every one of them, but about the name in itself, about the man whose name it was. What guarantees had the purebloods that their House wouldn't be the next one to be destroyed with an... error? A... mistake? What about the halfbloods and the muggleborns, whom Sirius Black had supposedly tried to protect from Voldemort and his Death Eaters during all this time?

No, they wouldn't let Sirius Black die, not without knowing the truth.

Not this time.

When Tonks came back with two healers, she had the surprise to be nearly acclaimed by the crowd. Fudge and the aurors were staring at Remus and a blond woman like statues, while the werewolf and the Ministry employee were standing protectively between the Minister and Sirius.

"What the hell happened in here?"

Remus didn't stop to glare at Fudge but snorted an answer.

"Some idiot tried to sent Sirius right back to Azkaban."

Tonks glared at the Minister, her hair becoming various shades of green and red, but ultimately decided he wasn't worth her time. The young auror led the healers to her cousin. Both of them seemed utterly shocked with the wizard's state.

The first one, a young and pretty woman, started working: grave wounds that prevented moving the patient were brought to St. Mungo's thanks to a ritual – close enough in theory to portkey-making – gentler on the body than apparition, but which took time to put in place and could only be aimed at a zone with the adequate preparations. St. Mungo's arrival point was behind the reception area, hidden from the crowd.

The other healer, older than her colleague who was putting up the appropriate candles for the ritual, started talking to Remus and Tonks with a serious face.

"I... never saw this. I don't know if we can do anything. Who stunned him?"

Remus looked away and coughed. The young Rowle smiled and made a clear sign about who was the culprit. To the werewolf's surprise, the healer gave him a soft smile.

"You did the right thing. There is darkness in his whole body, and the pain it caused was so strong your friend had no choice but to try and free it. In any conceivable way. He'd have continued to tear into his own body if you hadn't stopped him.

The healer asked Remus to come to St. Mungo's as soon as he could and tell him everything he knew about what had happened to Sirius. The werewolf promised, knowing very well that he wouldn't be able to say much. The only one who seemed to know anything was Sirius himself.

And so Tonks, Remus and Eleanor left the Atrium for an emptier, quieter place. They needed to talk.