Last Wednesday, they said. "I will update it by then!"
*Life proceeds to be life*
Oh well. Turns out I needed to listen to the second part of Tortured Poets Department to write some of the stuff next. A lil filler.
Song of the Day: We Can't Be Friends by Ariana Grande.
The Daily Prophet lay on the table, the headline glaring back at them all.
ALL IS WELL, says Minister of Magic.
As the dust settles and the echoes of spells fade away, the magical community stands at the precipice of reflection after yet another riveting Triwizard Tournament. The tournament, long hailed as a beacon of international unity and cooperation, faced its fair share of controversies this year –
"Not a single mention of Voldemort," Sirius grumbled. His scanned the page, scoping out anything that might be of help to the Order.
In Other News:
Minister for Magic announces reforms to the Department of Magical Education.
Quidditch World Cup qualifiers heat up as teams vie for a chance to compete in the prestigious tournament.
Unexplained incidents of magical disturbances reported in the Scottish Highlands prompt investigation by the Auror Office.
"Oh so the Minister is mad at how Dumbledore is running the school, is he?" Sirius circled in the part about magical disturbances in the Highlands and made a note to ask Kingsley about it later. A clash of metals sounded from the kitchen.
"Remus, if you accidentally break something in there… I don't actually mind, really," Sirius realized. It was his mother's pots and pans, after all.
Remus smiled apologetically.
"I just wanted to make a cup of tea, that's all. There's a boggart in the broom closet – did you know that?"
"What were you doing in the broom closet?"
"Well, I needed a broom to get rid of that giant, fat, spiderweb."
"Just incendio it!"
"If you want to set your house on fire, that's one you," Remus said kindly. "As for me, I am a guest."
"It's as much your house as it is mine now," Sirius stretched. His back cracked as he did it, and he found himself touching his back to make sure it was still intact. He wasn't exactly the youngest anymore. Sometimes, his joints ached in the morning, a pain that only accelerated from the lack of warm clothing he got in Azkaban. The dementors never cared, and it was only by the grace of living as Padfoot that he didn't succumb to the cold winters of the North sea. He presumed that Azkaban was somewhere close to the Shetland Islands because he had to roam the Scottish Highlands for a month afterwards.
Remus let out a tsk. But Sirius wasn't kidding. Between everyone that came in and out of this house, Remus was the one who stayed the longest. Like Sirius, Remus was unemployed, had no other place to go, and lounged around with him much to his delight.
However, at least he was allowed to leave the house. Sirius tried a couple of times, saying that Remus should take Padfoot out for a walk, but the thought of putting Sirius on a leash was horrifying. Not that Sirius needed one – Padfoot was a well-trained dog, thank you very much.
Sirius basked in the silence for now. The Weasley Children would arrive soon. His hand itched for the quill, wanting to write Harry and asking him about everything. How was he doing? Was he okay?
Sirius found that asking, "How are you?" and "Are you okay?" are two fundamentally different things. Because "How are you?" is simply a conversation started, one that you can lie about. "Are you okay?" can set you off.
Sirius went about his day, alright. About as much as he could from her. He looked at the clock. It was a little bit past five. He frowned.
"Say, it's a little bit quiet, isn't it?" Sirius asked. Remus frowned.
"I don't see what you mean?"
"Never mind," he grumbled. Something buzzed, and Sirius eyed Remus fishing that mobile telephone out of his pocket. He wanted one of those things. It seemed like a nice connection to the outside world. Remus jumped up, and then suddenly grabbed his coat.
"Where you off to?" Sirius asked.
"Oh, Order business," Remus said vaguely, leaving the house.
That was the answer lately. Order business. Everyone was on Order business. Sirius plastered on a smile once Molly and Arthur arrived, the children that were fresh out of Hogwarts in tow. Their arrival was announced with the screaming of his mother, something that he at this point became highly accustomed too. Molly and Arthur still seemed highly sceptical of him, but Ron with his freckled skin and bright eyes, simply gave him a high five.
"You alright, padfoot?" Ron said. "You haven't written in a while."
"Secret business," Sirius joked. "Trust me, I would if I could."
"Not too shabby," Ron looked around. "But we could do without the screamer."
"That would be my mother – oh, Hermione!" Sirius looked confused. "You haven't adopted her, have you Arthur?"
Arthur shook his head, laughing. "No, no. Hermione's parents don't live that far off from here. They're in Heathgate. We wanted her to come by headquarters once and see for herself."
"I'll be home as much as I can, of course," Hermione scrunched her nose at the head of house elves. "But this is… extremely important."
Sirius followed her eyes, "I'd get rid of that if I could."
"Are you willing to join S.P.E.W.?" Hermione asked. "I've started it based on how they treated Winky at the World Cup – it was awful!"
"Well, I do like to say that you can tell what kind of person someone is based on how they treat their house elf," Sirius rumbled. "But have you asked the elfs how they feel about it?"
"See Hermione, I told you!" Ron said in an aha!
But Sirius shook his head.
"I am merely suggesting, Hermione, that the people that you should include the house elves in the conversation," Sirius thought about Kreacher for a second, but Kreacher was a separate case. He showed the Weasleys and Hermione around the house, giving them the old rooms that were already cleaned up. Molly was not as satisfied as she could be, and vowed they'd spend the summer cleaning up.
It took a long while for the sun to set, but the clicking of the clock was his countdown to the Order meeting, where his life felt like it had somewhat of a purpose.
Sitting in there, he noticed a small absence. Remus wasn't there, which made sense, but still, he wished his friend was there when it came to seeing old Snivellus. He tried his best to be civil, but Snape did not make it easy. He could hear Molly scrambling to keep the kids out of the meeting, though knowing them, they'd still try to figure things out.
Dumbledore cleared his throat.
Order meetings were fun. When people arrived in the house and realised that Sirius Black, the escaped convict, was sitting in his own house, some questions were asked.
Yes, he was an unregistered animagus.
Yes, he escaped Azkaban.
No, he did not kill the Potters.
Yes, the culprit was still running free.
Sirius sat through it all, his hand itching for firewhiskey, a little bit on the rocks at the same, but he preferred it neat.
The other members of the Order filled the room, their voices a cacophony of urgency and concern as they debated tactics and strategies. It took a good forty five minutes before they got to why they were even there in the first place. You-Know-Who, Voldemort, has returned. Many people in that room had a hard time saying his name, but Voldemort took too much away from Sirius for him to care if he showed up or not.
Dumbledore, his half-moon glasses perched on his nose as always, had the patience of a saint. Sirius did not, as his leg tapped up and down.
"For the time being," Dumbledore continued after the last round of questions. We shall keep an eye on those who will join him. The werewolves—which is why I asked Mr. Lupin to infiltrate the ranks in Germany at some point during this Fall –"
Sirius frowned.
"And I am happy to announce that we have some ministry officals in our ranks. Thank you, Arthur, Kingsley -" they beamed.
"Now we do not have the favour of the tabloids on our side, and we perhaps won't as long as Cornelius Fudge has a say, so we need to diversify and make sure that people know that while we may not be acting, we are watching," Dumbledore ended.
"What about the boy?" Moody asked. Moody had just been released from St. Mungo's, and the area around his eye was still stored, as Barty Crouch's wearing his prosthetic eye caused a small infection beforehand.
Dumbledore nodded. "He's home, but he won't be coming here just yet. He shall be spending with his uncle and aunt, for his protection. Until then, he is to be kept in the dark."
Sirius piped up. "May we write to him?"
"No."
"No?" Sirius crossed his arms.
Dumbledore shot him a look. Sirius needed to stay quiet.
"Now that the holiday started, the staff members who are aware shall be here. We shall keep an eye on Harry at all hours, in watches. He needs to be a kid before he is the Chosen One."
"I do not see why we should keep him in the dark," Sirius shot back. "We are all here because of him, aren't we? He saw Cedric Diggory die, and frankly he is reckless. As reckless as James can be."
"You heard Albus," Molly shot. "He needs to be a kid!"
"By wrapping him in a false sense of security?" Sirius added. "I think not!"
"And who are you to say what is best for him?"
"For one, I am his godfather," Sirius reminded her. She coughed.
"A good one you've been –"
"Now, settle down," Dumbledore said coolly. Sirius crossed his arms. He did not need to be reminded that he hadn't been a good godfather based solely on the fact that he had been incarcerated for twelve years, going on thirteen.
He listened to the rest, but there was that.
Sirius couldn't do anything.
Later that night, he dragged himself to his room and looked across the hall to the sole companion who should be on the same floor.
It clicked that she hadn't come home yet from whatever it was she was doing that day.
Maybe he should ask Remus to get him a phone, but it would never be the same as looking at the person's face.
A day later, a big box slammed on the table. Sirius awoke from the nap he took after wrestling the boggart in the broom closet. If he knew this place would be that infested, he would have just called in one of those muggle renovating house tv crews he kept seeing.
"Get up, you," Remus said in a somber tone. He unlocked the box, took out pieces of paper, and laid everything out on the table.
"What's this?" he slurred slightly.
"Your freedom," his good friend replied. Remus still had his cloak on, and his shoes were tracking mud into the dinning room.
"I just mopped that, you," Sirius grumbled. "My finest piece of work."
Shaking his head vigorously as though the grogginess would leave him, his face fell at seeing the papers.
"Where did you get this?"
Remus sat down at the table, taking out his notebook. He did not answer, but laid out the papers before him and read through them. A little dumbfounded Sirius gingerly took the pieces of paper in his hands. It felt like an intrusion into a life he did not see but only heard about. They looked through them for a while. Sirius picked out the small journal in the box. A bunch of small leaflets fell out. Little post-it notes pertaining to passages of Wizarding laws that were outdated, but there were some that dated to a few years later. Laws that applied to crimes that were committed during the Wizarding War. The more he looked into it, the clearer it was: Sirius would get a trial if they played their cards right. It was Wizard's Chess.
He knew the handwriting too well, but was too prideful to talk to her about it.
On: Case number 785643
The Court of Wizarding Law, convened under the authority of Barty Crouch, has reached a decision regarding the petition for a trial for Sirius Black, accused of second-degree murder, and first degree murder of muggles, and first degree murder of Peter Pettigrew.
After thorough examination of the evidence presented by both the prosecution and the defence, and in adherence to the principles of magical jurisprudence, this court hereby denies the request for a trial for Sirius Black.
The decision is based on the following considerations
The facts are clear as day
In light of these considerations, the court concludes that proceeding with a trial for Sirius Black would be unjust and contrary to the principles of fairness and impartiality that underpin our legal system.
Therefore, the request for a trial for Sirius Black is hereby denied. The defendant shall be released from custody forthwith, and all restrictions imposed upon him are to be lifted immediately.
Signed,
Barty Crouch.
There was another letter attached, though it was unnamed. A sign of it being written in haste. Bartemious Crouch was not one to be this informal.
You'll ignore me for being so casual. I received your letters – all seven of them. And frankly, it's a waste of time. You're fighting for a lost cause.
Let me be blunt: Sirius Black is as guilty as sin. Trying to argue otherwise is just delusional.
I understand you might have some misguided sense of loyalty or sympathy for him, but let's not kid ourselves. He's a criminal, plain and simple.
So, save your breath and stop bothering me with this nonsense. The Ministry has more important things to deal with than entertaining baseless appeals from misguided individuals like yourself.
Consider this matter closed.
Barty Crouch
His heart sank, but it was quickly replaced by anger. He thought of all those stupid Death Eaters that got a trial.
Especially Snivellus. What did Snape have that Sirius didn't?
"Were you there?" Sirius asked Remus.
Remus shook his head, shrinking a little bit in his seat. "None of us were really there, Sirius. I… made a mistake. I went to the funeral of course, but we just didn't talk at all."
"What was it like?"
"Don't torture yourself like that," Remus warned. "You're just going ton hate yourself even more."
"I don't hate myself," Sirius crossed his arms. "I am far beyond that. I'm apathetic."
Sirius sat slumped in an armchair, his eyes hollow and distant. He truly felt old in that moment. Remus took in a deep breath.
"After James died," he started, his voice catching slightly, "I... I disappeared for a while."
Sirius's brow furrowed in confusion. "Disappeared? What do you mean?"
Remus swallowed hard, "I couldn't bear to face the world without James," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I felt... lost. Alone. I couldn't stand the thought of seeing anyone, of having to explain why I couldn't be the strong one anymore. And I couldn't move on, knowing we would no longer be us. It would no longer be us four lads against the world."
The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air.
"So I ran," he continued, his voice trembling. "I disappeared into the wilderness, trying to outrun the pain, trying to find some semblance of peace in a world that had been torn apart. But I was just never the same, you know?"
Silence settled between them, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. Remus watched as Sirius processed his words, the realisation dawning on him slowly.
"Oi! Fred, look what I can do – " One of the twins apparated right into the kitchen. They didn't bother to cover the documents. It wasn't a big Order secret that they would try to convince the ministry that Sirius was innocent.
When the clock chimed five, he looked at the door again. This time, however, only Arthur had crept his way down the hallway.
"Remus, can I have that, uh, telephone thing of yours?" Sirius asked.
"What do you want with it?"
"I'm just curious."
Remus handed him the phone but punched something in.
"Listen, if you wanted to call Eliza, you can just say so," Remus sounded amused.
"Who said that?"
"Pres the green button."
"I know how a phone works!"
"Sure you do," Remus grinned.
Sirius hesitated. He wasn't sure if he wanted to press the button. Somehow, he knew it was his fault that they weren't talking again. It was always him, but it was also her because she sometimes gave him a little too fast.
He sighed and handed it back to Remus.
"I'll wait 'till she gets back."
Remus blinked. "You don't know?"
"Don't know what?"
"Eliza's being watched, Sirius," Remus scratched the back of his head. "She can't come here without exposing the Order.