Chapter 6: What a Lord for the House of Black!
Eleanor had come to Hogsmeade for an appointment, but she was really early. She thought she could spend a bit more time with this strange dog, and, if it was still there when she came back, she'd take it with her.
When she looked at it, she could only think of a grim. It should have scared her, but she'd never believed in divination. And it wasn't as if an omen of death was supposed to be so friendly. Maybe the grims caused the death only when you weren't nice with them? Why not, after all. Magic wasn't exactly logical. So magical creatures could have illogical powers.
The black dog cocked its head to the right, and Eleanor smiled softly, remembering a teenager she had known, kind of, back in her school days. If she was to take a closer look... Yes, the dog's fur was as black as the boy's hair, and its eyes were of a silver color she had only seen in one family.
Something buzzed in her pocket, and the witch sighed. It was time to go to her appointment. The ones she was to meet were mostly snobbish, patronizing slytherin alumni, and she wouldn't hear the end of it if she arrived late.
Well, purebloods' duties.
Eleanor patted the dog on the head, and went away.
Three wizards were waiting near the Three Broomsticks. Their robes were expensive and tailored, their faces were cold and they looked at the people passing by as if they were scum. No doubt, they were the ones she was supposed to meet with.
"We almost had to wait, Rowle."
The witch refrained from rolling her eyes or wincing, and put on her own cold-and-insensitive-pureblood mask. Her gaze went straight to the man with the long blond hair, whom she knew to be the leader of the small group.
"Shut up, Malfoy, your voice is getting on my nerves."
Something, no, someone, was shaking her.
Eleanor woke up suddenly, and found herself being stared at by a man with black hair and silver eyes. She blinked once, twice, thrice, wondering why he reminded her of a dog, a big, black dog that didn't really look like him... except for the black hair and the grey eyes.
"You fell asleep."
The witch nodded, a blank air on her face. She was fairly certain that in order to dream, one had to be asleep, so the man was likely saying the truth. But she couldn't remember falling asleep.
Sirius, sitting up in his hospital bed, observed the young woman curiously, wondering what she was doing in his room. She clearly wasn't a healer, so she wasn't here to look after him. She looked a bit younger than he was, five years maybe, and he had this feeling he had already met her, long ago, and seen her, not so long ago. His eyes fell on her golden earrings, and he barely refrained a growl.
The armorial bearings of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Rowle.
Just his luck.
He searched his memory for the Rowle family tree, that his mother had almost beaten into him along with all the other Noble and Most Ancient Houses' family trees when he had been five years old. He had learned the Black family tree at four. The Noble and Ancient Houses' family trees, such as the Malfoys', had waited for his sixth birthday, since it was less of a problem if he were to insult a Malfoy than a Nott. Not that the punishment would be less terrible, his mother had made that clear. No, the only thing was that the social consequences of his insult would be less important.
Given her age, he'd say she was either Malicia or Eleanor Rowle. Eleanor, surely. Bella had said so.
Sirius saw an almost shy smile form on her lips, and she answered his interrogations for him.
"The name's Eleanor."
The wizard nodded, wondering why she wasn't more formal. Then again, he'd rather have her act natural. The whole etiquette thing was less and less important nowadays, though in certain circumstances it had to be followed, and as he was sitting in a hospital bed wearing a hospital gown, he wasn't going to be really formal either.
Screw the etiquette.
"Sirius."
"I know, Lord Black."
The man smirked at the first part of the sentence.
Of course, everybody knew who he was.
First wizard ever to escape alone from the freaking Azkaban prison, not really an ex-convict since he had never had a trial, considered for years as a bloody traitor and a mass murderer, waiting to be cleared of all charges, and, let's not forget, recently dead, recently alive again.
Then he winced at the last part of the sentence.
Lord Black.
So much for not bothering with formalities.
Lord Black.
Yuck.
He didn't want to think about his grandfather right now.
And lord of what, exactly?
An immense wealth and a ridiculous amount of political influence. But where was his family? Where were the Blacks?
Narcissa Malfoy née Black, wife to Lucius Malfoy. Not quite her son, because he was a Malfoy before being a Black. Andromeda Tonks née Black, and her daughter Nymphadora Tonks, and thereby Edward Tonks, since he wasn't part of any House. But disowned. Bellatrix Lestrange née Black, dead. And haunting him. Regulus Black, dead. The others? Pollux, Arcturus, Cassiopeia, Lucretia Prewett née Black, Cygnus and Walburga, grandmother Melania, née Macmillan, and grandmother Irma, née Crabbe – all the old ones were dead while he was in jail, except for Callidora Longbottom, née Black. Arthur had told him about his mother's funeral in 1989, so same thing for Cedrella Weasley, née Black, amongst the disowned.
There wasn't much left of the House of Black.
Not that he was sad about it. The Blacks were rotten from the root, he knew that well, as one of them. But still. He had no family left. Though he was definitely reinstating Andromeda and accepting her family in by the same token, if he made it out of his trial. No, even before that.
Speaking of his trial, Moody had said it would be soon, since he was almost healed.
What a lord for the House of Black!
No family, and awaiting for a trial. He was no lord.
"Sirius."
The witch nodded.
"Very well. Sirius."
"Why are you here?"
"I'm the one who managed to keep you here when Fudge wanted to send you right back to Azkaban."
The man was surprised, and decided to be a bit curious.
"I guess I should thank you, then. But that aside... Why did you do it?"
Eleanor smiled. He had no idea, hadn't he?
"Do you know how interesting you are, Sirius?"
The wizard dismissed the question, as if to say that he wasn't so incredible. But in truth, if such a reason wasn't expected from a member of a Noble and Most Ancient House, it was reassuring. Well, sort of. Sirius guessed the young woman meant exactly what she had said, but who knew, maybe she was a Death Eater trying to see if he'd be interested in a job offer, now that he had publicly accepted his skills in the Dark Arts. Or maybe the witch was also a journalist, and was trying to get information out of him.
An awkward silence took place after that, and they began sending glances at one another each time they thought the other wasn't looking. After a while, Sirius was bored to death, and Eleanor was still trying to find something to say. She couldn't possibly leave when she had spoken only five times, not after all the time she had spent next to him, when he had been sleeping, when he hadn't been lucid enough, too busy fighting the pain in his body.
It was Sirius who broke the silence, as he had been thinking about his near future once again. He did that a lot – when he was really awake, and not trying to tear his body into pieces.
"Do you happen to know when they scheduled my trial?"
The sudden end to the silence startled Eleanor, who still managed to keep her composure anyway.
"Five days, I believe. Yesterday, the healers said you'd be good within two days, and Scrimgeour immediately decided that you'd be tried wednesday. The testimonies start tomorrow, behind closed doors. I personally think he's hoping for you to still be sick, so that you wouldn't be able to participate as you should, and even less be able to defend yourself."
Sirius nodded, well aware of the new Minister's policy. Tonks had complained about her ex-boss for at least two hours the day before.
"Well, Scrimgeour will be surprised. Could you call for a healer? If I can leave, I'll do that right away. I have many things to do, such as making my Lordship official, and a visit to Gringott's."
Eleanor wondered; had the man really planned his escape route for the trial?
"You're certain your body can take it?"
Sirius rolled his eyes, and pointed at his left leg.
"Yesterday I tore the skin from my ankle open. Today there is nothing left of the wound, and it's not only thanks to St. Mungo's healers. The fact that this body is new, and has been made through the Dark Arts, isn't benign. As long as this body isn't complete and operational, the spell that created it will fight to get it back to its normal state if anything happens to it. The process is supposed to take something like a month, because it is the time my body should take to reject the darkness it comes from. Thanks to the healers, the elimination of this darkness has been reduced by half."
The witch listened, obviously not sure of the truth in his words, but willing to trust him.
As for him, Sirius was disguted with his own knowledge of dark magic. Everything that he had unsuccessfully tried to forget during his whole life had come back to his brain as soon as he had used the Imperius curse on the Longbottoms. Of course, he had always known it was still there, somewhere in the back of his mind, but it was purely haunting him now. Because what the young boy had read in his childhood, what the teenager had ignored while at Hogwarts, what the adult had spat on during the war and his time in Azkaban, Sirius Black could never forget. As he had remembered everything in school by simply reading it, his knowledge of the Dark Arts only demanded one reading.
Read it once, know it forever.
"If I'm hurt now, and the wound doesn't disappear in less than one minute, then it means the darkness is gone. And if the darkness is gone, then I have no reason to stay here anymore."
Eleanor nodded, unsure of what to do, but eventually decided that getting a healer couldn't hurt. After all, they were the only ones who could sign Black out of St. Mungo's, and the wizard couldn't do anything if they disagreed to his leaving.
Well, he could still kill the healer or blow up the hospital to be free, but it wasn't a good idea to execute for someone awaiting their trial.
"I'll ask for a healer. I suppose that if you leave, you'll have one or two aurors right at your hip?"
Sirius grunted an agreement.
"More like five of them, if Moody and Tonks are being truthful. To make sure no one will hurt me before the trial, Scrimgeour said, it seems. I suspect it's more about me not running away once more. It wouldn't be good for the Ministry if the wrongly incarcerated Prisoner of Azkaban suddenly decided that the world has been too mean to him and finally wanted to become a villain."
He snorted as he finished his sentence. The idea was ridiculous, but it was definitely something the Ministry could come up with.
Eleanor left the room to go and fetch a healer.
Alone at last, Sirius looked at the ceiling, searching for Bella. He found her floating against the further wall of the room with a pensive look on her face. As she wasn't reacting to his calls, he finally threw his pillow at her, and the ghost almost passed through the wall in shock.
"Could you please stop doing that?"
It had been Sirius' way to get her attention and basically unnerve her for the last three days.
The wizard raised an eyebrow, still sitting on his bed.
"I won't. But I can reinstate the 'oh so good and magnanimous master' rule, if you're being so uninteresting."
The ghost winced at the mention of the order which had had her watch her words during thirty-seven hours, carefully avoiding sentences in which she had to name him.
"Please don't."
"Then listen to me. I'm leaving."
Bella made a funny face, and after a short silence, she was kneeling next to the bed, begging him with false and ghostly tears in the eyes.
"No, dear husband, please, don't leave me alone! I'll do whatever you want, I'm even ready to have a child! Don't leave me, don't leave me alone! I know I haven't been a good wife, but I swear it will change, I will, if you give me another chance!"
After what the ghost was once again standing, a straight face on, careful not to let any emotion be seen, even if she wanted to laugh till she died of exhaustion. That'd take a long time, if she did.
"What do you want me to do?"
Sirius smirked at her antics, finally getting his cousin back, after so many years.
Of course, Bella had always been kind of dangerous, and not exactly the nicest girl he had known, but what she had become as she had grown up... It couldn't be compared. There had been times when she had been almost a bully to her cousins, times when Sirius had been worried by her actions towards Regulus... But she had never crossed the line, always stopping before it was too late. Bellatrix Lestrange, on the other hand, had known no limit.
"Try to be discreet, and go back to Grimmauld Place. I'm sure Kreacher will be thrilled to see you, even if you're a ghost, and you'll have a lovely time insulting me and my traitorous manners."
Bella frowned, remembering how the house-elf had betrayed Sirius to Narcissa not even three weeks before. Not only Sirius, but a Black, and, worse, the Lord of the House of Black. No matter the circumstances, no matter the beliefs his master had displayed, Kreacher should never have done that.
"Kreacher betrayed you."
Sirius shrugged, not really interested.
"Dear Mother taught him that I was the worst kind of scum on Earth, and I recall a time when he 'accidentally' pushed me down the stairs. I can't say I'm surprised."
"Still, you're Lord Black. He should never have... Wait, wasn't Regulus fond of him?"
The wizard visibly tensed at the mention of his brother. This time, Bella was sure of it; no matter the younger Black's crimes, Sirius still cared about him. He had tried to bury these feelings, and Azkaban had helped him to hide them well, but the prison had also strengthened his feeling of guilt.
Regulus had stepped down from being a Death Eater, causing his death. What if Sirius had been able to save him, what if he had listened to him, what if he had had a chance to keep his younger brother out of Voldemort's grasp? What if all this had been possible, and he had done nothing?
Sirius wasn't looking at her when he responded.
"I used to joke that they'd marry each other."
The ghost sniggered. Yes, she remembered that. Regulus would always blush in anger and embarassment, the house-elf would go on a tirade about how only the finest of the pureblooded ladies could do for the young master, and Sirius would try to guess which one of his cousins was the "finest" according to Kreacher. That, actually, was a bit frightening, for Bellatrix could now see that the oldest of the brothers hadn't been wrong. According to Walburga Black, the best were the Blacks, and herself had wed her own cousin, Orion Black. If they hadn't been so lucky Walburga was sane enough to see that two generations of inbreeding wasn't a good idea at all, Bella realized, she could have been Sirius' wife, while Andromeda would have been Regulus'. Nevermind the age gap, they were cousins, for heaven's sake!
But back to the matter at hand...
"I could talk to him. After all... Regulus betrayed the D... Voldemort. So if Kreacher idolized your brother and acted as if the boy's beliefs were laws, he should at least change his mind about you being the filth he thinks you are."
Sirius' eyes darted back to his cousin, wide open.
Try to reason with the crazy house-elf. Why not, after all? If Bella had budged, why wouldn't the batty servant be able to do just the same?
"You... Do it. And ask him why he was almost approving after I used one of our darkest spells to stay alive, while taking your life at the same time. I promised myself I'd look into it, but being who you are, you're more likely to get anything out o..."
Footsteps were heard in the corridor, and Sirius gestured for his cousin to go back to the ceiling, silent again. He had planned to reveal his unusual haunting ghost during his trial, but he didn't want anyone else than Moody – and most likely Dumbledore – to know about her too soon. This kind of situation had to be handled carefully, if he didn't want it to backfire.
The door opened, and Eleanor was back with an old healer and two grumpy looking aurors. Sirius couldn't tell whether they were still wary of him, or they were unhappy because they weren't out there chasing Death Eaters. Probably both.
"Lord Black. I heard you wanted to leave."
The wizard nodded, eyeing warily the aurors behind the healer. Whatever their feelings about him were, he didn't like having watchdogs assigned to spy on him.
The healer cast a glance behind him, wondering what made his patient so tense, and sighed when he saw that the aurors had followed him inside. Sure, Sirius Black wasn't the least innocent man in the world, but did he really deserve such a treatment from the Ministry? And anyway, the man had already escaped from Azkaban and cheated death once for each feat. The healer was positive that if he truly wanted it, he could be out with or without the Ministry's agreement.
His attention went back to his patient. The best he could do was to ignore the aurors, so he'd do exactly that.
"Very well. I'll be doing some diagnostic spells, and if they are negative to any trace of darkness and if you wish me to do so, we'll end this with a little experiment, for which we'll have to inflict a minor cut and see if you heal directly or not. Do you agree?"
Sirius grinned a mischievous smile, and the two aurors fidgetted behind the healer.
Really, that was their dangerous man with no sense of ethic and loyalty? If the healer ever found this damn article from three years prior again, he'd make the writer eat it without salt nor pepper.
"That was what I'd guessed. I'm all for it."
The old man looked at the Rowle girl who had come to get him, remembering her words. Then he looked at the now serious again Black lord.
"So I have heard. Let's begin, then."
The healer began with the arms and legs, then the guts, the brain, and finally the heart. None of the parts of the body or organs revealed any shred of darkness. The only thing left was the blood. A quick spell was enough to confirm what he had guessed.
"You're clean, Lord Black. Could you give me your hand?"
The young man – because no matter what, even if he was thirty-six years old, he looked like a twenty years old after his stunt – presented his left hand to the healer.
"Sirius, please. I'm not my grandfather."
The healer nodded once again. Being called mister or any other honorific always created some awkwardness the first times. And he doubted that Sirius had been respected even once since his jailing. After all, who would call Sirius Black "Mister", or worse, "Lord", when he was the most infamous inmate of the wizarding prison?
The old man used a thin blade to cut the skin on the back of his patient's hand, a cut one inch long, just enough to see without causing discomfort. Red, hot blood tainted the scalpel, but contrary to before, it held no trace of the dark threads that had invaded the man's blood for days. A drop of blood created a scarlet path while rolling down the curves of the hand, and other drops followed, first fast enough, then more scarcely. They waited, and when it was obvious the wound wouldn't just heal by itself before hours, the healer saw his patient sigh in relief.
The old man quickly cleansed the little wound and badaged the hand. Once this was done, he took a step back, observing his soon-to-be-ex-patient. It would be long before he got another one as interesting as Sirius Black.
The wizard was thin, but he wasn't meager anymore. The healer wasn't stupid, he had already seen people who had just gotten out of Azkaban, and most of them, those who had spent more than a year in this hell on Earth, could only be described as being various degrees of skin upon bones. Sirius Black, when he had accomplished the feat of escaping alone from the worst prison ever after twelve years, had certainly been a walking skeleton dressed in a suit of human skin in his pictures.
Black's temples were a bit hollow, and he could have used some more chubbiness in his cheeks, but from the pictures of the other family members and their diamond-shaped faces, it wasn't so surprising. The dark circles under the eyes the young lord had been presenting when he had first been transported to the hospital hadn't completely disappeared, but were less visible than before. The healer suspected that the man would always look like he hadn't slept for the night.
Finally, the look of absolute dread had disappeared from the wizard's eyes. But given that the photograph the healer was using as reference had been taken in Azkaban, he guessed that had more to do with the man's escape than with his time in St. Mungo's.
Still, when the healer compared the latest pictures from the Daily Prophet and the man sitting in this hospital bed, he couldn't not be proud of his work.
Now, Sirius Black looked like a human being.
Though the healer was well aware, thanks to the diagnostic spells he had been running for almost three weeks now, that the Black lord wasn't exactly human anymore. Yes, his body and mind were human. But there was a "but". He hadn't been born in this body, and this body hadn't been created in a woman's womb. It was a perfect copy of the man's old body, but it wasn't exactly human at the same time.
Sirius Black was human, and yet he wasn't.
Truly, the healer would miss such an intriguing patient.
"Well then, Sirius, I think you can leave us now. Try to enjoy your new liberty as much as you can."
And as he finished that sentence, the healer glared at the two aurors.
"Thank you, Healer...?"
The old man smiled, always happy when one of his patients walked out of St. Mungo's in good health. As one who had worked for most of his career in the dark spells ward, he knew very well it wasn't a given outcome.
"Healer Irving."
He couldn't have sounded more like the halfblood he was.
Sirius smiled even more as he gave him his thanks once again, with the old man's name this time. It couldn't have been a more genuine smile.
The healer was about to leave to do the paperwork necessary for the Black lord to be allowed to leave, but he suddenly remembered the first time the wizard had been awake, and his dark magic relapse. He remembered this day quite well, for it had been a miracle day in another ward of the fourth floor of St. Mungo's.
Squinting his eyes, he looked at Sirius Black with curiosity.
"Sirius... I believe you used to be one of the Longbottoms' friends? You'll surely be happy to hear that their state has suddenly improved. The healers from the Janus Thickey ward are at a loss, but they record a time and state of consciousness more and more consequent each day that passes."
And as if to confirm his suspicions, the young lord's gaze avoided his own, travelling through the room rather than looking at any of the people present. Of course, the aurors were sending glances at each other, wondering what the hell that was about, but the Rowle girl looked taken aback at the news. Apparently the healer wasn't the only one who had picked up on the hints.
If Black wasn't to thank for the Longbottom couple's recovery, the old man was a yellow grindylow.
"I'll come back as soon as the paperwork is done, and you'll be free to leave."
And with these words, the old healer left the room.
Sirius sighed, relieved that nothing more had been said. As long as Frank and Alice weren't completely back, he couldn't afford to say a word to anyone.
Then he glanced at the two aurors, still standing like idiots in the room, and rolled his eyes. He could only hope that the three others Scrimgeour wanted in his "escort" wouldn't be so dumb. Or maybe he should hope that they'd be this dumb, for he didn't want them to report his trial strategy before the big day. He wasn't sure.
And why the hell did Scrimgeour want five aurors to waste time on him when there were bloodthirsty Death Eaters on the loose in the country?
Forget it, he knew the answer already. Not that he liked it. But he knew already, and couldn't do anything to put an end to this idiocy.
So he led his attention back to Eleanor Rowle, still sitting awkwardly next to him. A bit of compassion made his way to his emotional center, and he decided to give her a reason to leave.
"Miss Rowle?"
"Yes?"
He had to give it to her, the witch wasn't easily startled.
"Could you please leave? I'd like to change into proper clothing, and I wouldn't want to..."
He didn't finish his sentence, as the young woman had completely understood what he meant by that, and left with a courteous goodbye. Somehow, he surprised himself thinking it would be great if she were to come by and see him during the next days.
As soon as she was gone, he stood up from the bed and walked to the dresser where Remus had put the clothes he had brought for him. There, he looked for a while, surprised to see that his best friend had handpicked the clothes so that he'd look like a proper pureblooded Lord of a Noble and Most Ancient House when leaving the hospital. Sirius had expected Moony to be a bit more vicious and search for the most embarassing robes he could find. But when he rememberd that he had a trial to be ready for in five days, he guessed his friend had thought it ill-advised to build him a bad image.
Sirius selected a black robe with silver ornaments, wondering how the hell such refined clothing had ended up in his wardrobe, chose a grey pair of pants, and a shirt of the same color.
Then he glared at the aurors who wouldn't let him dress alone, as if he was going to turn his clothes into weapons or something.
Not ten minutes later, Healer Irving was back, and Sirius signed the sheet of parchment allowing him to get the hell out of the white room he had been confined to for more than two weeks – nevermind that he had been unconscious most of it. The wizard thanked the old man once more, and hurried as elegantly as he could to the entrance of St. Mungo's. Apparition inside the hospital was impossible – healers had access to a portkey to be here quickly if someone needed urgent treatment. Still, they had to report and explain any use of it, to get it replaced.
The two aurors still on his heels, Sirius Black startled a dozen of patients and visitors when he got out of the elevator and walked into the entrance hall. Most of the people who saw him took a step back and started whispering with whoever was next to them. He ignored them, waved at a child who was pointing fingers and felt a guilty pleasure when the kid went to hide behind his mother.
Soon, the three wizards were out of the hospital, and Sirius turned to the two aurors who had to tail him. They didn't seem much happier than he was with the order, and he mused that if he were to leave them behind it'd be much more interesting. But it would also put the Magical Law Enforcement people on edge, and that wouldn't be good for him.
"Listen here, you two. You're stuck with me, and I have nothing to hide, but I won't comply with stupid rules to 'keep me safe until my trial'. So I'm going to side-along apparate both of you to our destination, and I don't want to hear any complain. After all, I could simply ditch you here and you'd be in deep shit with Scrimgeour."
Without waiting for their answers, Sirius grabbed their arms and they weren't there anymore.
Many miles away from London, three human forms popped out of nowhere between the huge trees of a forest. Sirius, of course, knew where they were, but the two aurors were wary of their surroundings.
"Where the hell did you take us, Black?!"
The young lord glanced at the one who had spat his name as if it was an insult, and remembered something Tonks had told him after Fudge's attempt to arrest Dumbledore.
"Dawlish, isn't it? My cousin did warn me that you are a bit thick."
Then he turned to the other one, ignoring the irate air on the auror's face.
"As for your colleague's question, we're in Essex, not far away from a friend's house. He's currently safekeeping my wand, so I thought it better to come by before doing anything else. By the way, what's your name?"
The auror cast a glance at Dawlish, but decided it wasn't worth the hassle to try and calm his colleague. As Black had said, Dawlish might have been academically clever and good enough a fighter, but when it came to his temper and his prejudices, the wizard could be thick.
"Julius Moody, Lord Black."
Sirius arched an eyebrow. So that was Mad-Eye's young cousin. A bit too "Ministric", Alastor had said, and too young to see when his bosses were wrong. Well, hopefully he'd grow out of it.
"Moody, eh? I guess it runs in the family. Anyway, put a tracking spell on me, just in case. I wouldn't want one of you to accuse me of trying to escape the Ministry's eyes."
"You know Alastor?"
"The spell, youngster. And yes, I do know Mad-Eye. Everyone seems to have forgotten, but I was in the Auror Training Program when... Well, you know. Mad-Eye is one hell of an instructor."
Julius did the tracking spell, while observing Black with curiosity.
The man was right and wrong at the same time. It wasn't that everybody had forgotten about his days as an apprentice auror, it was that nobody wanted to talk about it. When Julius had asked about the Death Eater who had almost been an auror and how no one had suspected a thing, not even Alastor with his "constant vigilance", everyone at the auror Office had seemed to become deaf in less time than it took to say "Black".
No one had ever suspected a thing... and today it was suggested that maybe it was because there had been nothing to be suspicious of.
Sirius Black. Second heir to the House of Black after his father Orion Black. Gifted in dark magic, but reluctantly using it. Known for his eventful years at Hogwarts, a cruel hatred towards Slytherin, and a habit to ignore the rules. Reported uses of the Dark Arts: seven times, on Death Eaters, to defend the lives of a muggleborn's family. Ignored by most of his family. Had ran away from home to live with the Potters at sixteen years old. A Death Eater brother, who had eventually betrayed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and had lost his life in the process. A cousin amongst the highest ranking Death Eaters. Member of the Order of the Phoenix. Known as the Potters' Secret Keeper. Accused of the betrayal of the Potters, and the murder of Peter Pettigrew and twelve muggles.
Here was what had been held against him at the end of 1981. Hearsay, facts, but no investigation, no trial. Nothing. Just another Black in Azkaban.
No one had been willing to remember the years he had spent distinguishing himself from his family, to think about the choices he had made. Because either he had fooled everyone since the tender age of eleven – a Black could definitely be twisted enough to do that, nevermind the Sorting Hat, since, you know, you can be brave and still be a bastard – or he had suddenly decided to deny everything he had stood for all those years and thought it'd be fun to go around betraying people and killing and torturing muggles and muggleborns.
If a Death Eater had ever earned himself the right to a trial, it would have been Sirius Black. But no, his apparent change of heart was even worse because he had been such a nice guy before.
Julius wondered, as they walked in the forest, why no one had stood up for the wizard. Why no one had doubted the accusations.
Maybe those who had, for lack of a better explanation to his actions, and because all the others were so vehemently blaming the wizard, had finally accepted his supposed guilt. Maybe they had tried hard enough to hate him, because if they hadn't, the crowd's wrath would have fallen upon them too.
Maybe the man that Black wanted to see now, the man who lived in this forest, was one of those people, who had made their hearts silent for years because they couldn't find another explanation than the one publicly acknowledged.
That Sirius Black had been guilty.
Because he couldn't have been anything else.
They finally arrived at a small and rundown house which reeked of poverty. Black asked the two aurors to stay back and walked to the door, which suddenly opened even before he knocked on it.
A man with ragged clothes and bags under his eyes, scars across his face, and a sick complexion was standing there, looking wary and unsure of what to expect. In seconds his facial and body expressions changed, and he was hugging Black with all his strength. Given the man's lack of visible muscular mass, Julius wouldn't have guessed he was so strong if the young lord hadn't let out a shriek of pain.
"Moony, please, you're on the way to break my ribs. I suffered enough pain lately without you adding to it."
"Moony" let go of Black and the wincing wizard gave the two aurors a look, permitting them to come closer. The sick man tensed again, and turned to his friend.
"What are they here for, Padfoot?"
Julius guessed "Padfoot" was the Black lord, and he guessed right, as the man winced and answered "Moony"'s question without even looking at the aurors. Instead, he was looking at the rundown house with a disapproving look on his face.
"Scrimgeour's orders. They're to stick with me like bubble gum would stick to my shoes. Just ignore them, and everything will be okay. Say, your house hasn't improved since last summer."
Dawlish seemed more attentive than ever at the moment he understood that Black had been staying with the sick looking man at some point while he was wanted by the Ministry. Sure enough, if the young lord weren't to leave his trial a free man, "Moony" would have to deal with the older auror's accusations, Julius thought.
The man frowned at his friend's lack of caution, but said nothing and observed his house with a critical eye.
"Well, you know, I was a tad busy trying to blend in with Greyback's werewolves. Being a spy for Dumbledore in the underworld didn't exactly leave me any time to find a job."
Julius saw his colleague tense as the wizard understood that the man with ragged clothes was actually a werewolf who, as many others, couldn't afford the luxury of a proper wardrobe.
Actually, if the young auror had a good memory... He had already seen this particular werewolf somewhere. Not long ago... And jackpot! It was the man who had talked for Black three weeks before, in the Atrium. It was...
Merlin's beard, Remus Lupin!
Julius' jaw fell wide open as the realization struck home.
Remus freaking Lupin, the werewolf who had been every Hogwarts student's favorite Defense against the Dark Arts professor in years two years prior. The wizard bitten by Fenrir Greyback in his youth, but who had somehow been allowed by Dumbledore to have a proper education at Hogwarts. The one werewolf who countered any prejudice against his kind all on his own.
And apparently a member of the Order of the Phoenix, since he was spying on the werewolves for Dumbledore.
Remus looked at his friend, making sure he was really alright and that he hadn't fled from St. Mungo's in a temper tantrum. Once he was satisfied, he turned his attention back to the two aurors, and was surprised to see that the youngest one was gobsmacked. The fact that Dawlish was nearly growling at him left the werewolf unfazed. He had heard of the wizard from Tonks, Kingsley and Mad-Eye, and anyway he was used to be looked at with animosity.
"Sirius, you're sure you didn't mess up with the side-along apparition?"
The Black lord turned back to his two unwanted shadows, and saw the strange show they were giving.
He barked a laugh and patted his friend on the shoulder.
"Don't worry, I didn't leave young Moody's brain behind, if that's what you're wondering about. As for Dawlish, I could have, but since he didn't have one to begin with, there wasn't a risk."
Remus' eyes darted to the young auror, once again ignoring Dawlish, and assessed him with a gaze.
"Moody? He's Alastor's cousin, right?"
Great, Julius thought. This one too knew his father's least, he guessed that put them above any kind of suspicions.
"Yeah. Anyway, I believe you have my wand with you?"