My Very Own Miracle

Chapter 3

Three days, it had been three days since Sirius woke up – as brief as it was – he did rouse occasionally. He seemed to mistake Phoenix for either Regulus or James depending the time. He'd grown feverish, and was currently on antibiotics, fever reducers and mild pain relief draughts and mood stabilisers. He'd given in on the first night and gone to a clinic and got himself advice from an actual healer with a non-disclosure agreement between them. Not that he knew who was in his home. Information about Sirius Black still hadn't reached his shores.

The silence was damning all on its own, they were trying to keep his escape on the downlow. Then again, why wouldn't they? They did have something to hide. They'd arrested the heir of the most ancient and noble house of Black and held him in prison WITHOUT A TRIAL. The documents he had held a lot of bullshit, Sirius didn't have a Dark Mark yet there it was in the document clear as day, a picture of the mark that's supposed to have been on Sirius including trial transcripts. Arcturus had been given manipulated information from the Ministry of all places. He feared it went farther than that, how far though, he didn't know. Hooting had Phoenix's head snapping up, as he lurched out of his seat, anticipation thrumming through him.

Phoenix opened the window, allowing the owl to swoop in, it went straight to the wardrobe and settled. Laughing softly, he moved a chair to the middle of the room, and tapped it, a pierce whistle leaving his lips. The owl stretched its wings and dove down and sat itself on the back of the chair. Giving it a pet with his index finger, cooing softly, recalling his own owl and the pain of loss that followed her death. He couldn't have asked for better, she'd lived a grand old age, in fact, she had Owlets, that still lived around here, free as the day they were born. He saw them occasionally when they stopped by for a drink or something to eat.

Giving another whistle, he commanded the owl onto his arm, and took it through to the kitchen onto the stand. The bird stand was near the open windows, and the two bowls were already full. One held water, the other had an assortment of dried fruit, nuts and sunflower seeds laid out for any owls that made their way to the island. The heat alone made it so that any owl that came during the day would need rest time.

Nix,

I've asked around the Ministry of Magic for the past few days, and can safely confirm that Heir Sirius Orion Black never received a trial. The file pertaining to him is devoid of anything except his arrest warrant, the arresting officer's – read now Minister Fudge – initial arrest report. In which Fudge concluded that Heir Black was indeed guilty having been found at the scene of the crime laughing manically.

The warrant for his arrest was for the suspicion of concluding with You-Know-Who to kill Lily and James Potter, with Peter Pettigrew being added after the fact. There are no trial transcripts, and there are no memories of any trial against anyone named Sirius Orion Black I checked the archive of memories.

They destroyed his wand, everything about the case is backwards and so wrong. I did some background on Fudge when it became evident, he was the arresting Auror on the case. The day after Blacks arrest and confinement in Azkaban, he was given a hefty twenty thousand galleons, and continues to receive it every month since. They are put in the same day, without fail, until now. The money is curiously absent for the first time. I'm having trouble finding out who's parting with the money that I believe has been set up to pay him off for keeping Black in Azkaban.

Enclosed in a copy of Fudge's statements, the fool doesn't even burn them, they just go out with the rest of his rubbish. I've also enclosed a letter I believe might be of relevance. I have also enclosed a copy of Fudge's handwriting to compare to the file Lord Black received, I wish you luck with your future endeavours.

Be careful, these people will not wish the truth to be known, ensure it's worth it before you go down this road.

Hera Carrow

P.s – They are sending Dementors out, he has a 'Kiss-on-sight' order for any Dementor that senses him.

Archive of memories was literally what it said, millions of memories of trials in vials beginning from the very day the Unspeakables figured out how to do it. Normally only the Unspeakables were able to get anywhere near them, even the Minister had to seek permission to watch the memory or memories in question. They would never forget to extract the memory, which meant there truly had been no trial. Heir Sirius Black had been imprisoned for twelve years without a trial.

Phoenix flipped through the information, gazing at the aforementioned statement, and it was right, an unknown and unnamed vault at Gringotts paid a monthly stipend to one Cornelius Fudge, every single day on the day, and curiously, it was absent now that Sirius was no longer in prison. Pursing his lips, he flicked to the letter Hera mentioned, and blinked.

'You will receive no more until the matter is dealt with permanently' the paper was incredibly wrinkled as if it had been read, crumbled up, read then scrunched up again. There was no signature, of course not, someone had gone into great lengths to remain hidden. He pondered on whether Fudge even knew who his generous 'benefactor' was or if it had all been handled in the shadows? Grunting displeased by the information he'd received. So, they had plans to kill Sirius, and were using Ministry resources to do so, damn it. They'd likely not come here, he knew that, Britian was the only place that used Dementors, they were forbidden to come close to any other country.

It meant that Sirius wouldn't be able to return to Britian, because the Dementors would go for him right away. They were too often denied the possibility of a soul now that society was far more…hmm less violent now. When was the last kiss? Half a century? More? Fucking Dementors, they shouldn't be using them, they were far too unpredictable, dangerous, and not to mention, how many muggles actually die when they lose control of them?

Cursing colourfully, he pinched the bridge of his nose, utterly vexed, he wasn't sure how it was possible but the Ministry had continued its downward spiral in the decade that had passed. His parents had commented it would be the end of them if they didn't do something, that the Potter family had a secret, that their blood would wake those destined to wipe the scrounge of society off the face of the earth. They'd spoken off it often, made no secret of their effort to find this secret place, but Phoenix hadn't paid much attention. It was his parents thing; they'd primarily pursued leads when he wasn't home.

Standing up, he scratched the back of his head in irritation, as he moved through to his bedroom, and made for his bureau, the writing desk had come from the Black vault, a gift from Arcturus. He did originally have it in a room he'd decided to make up a study, an office, but living alone, he had elected when he redecorated to have it situated in the little corner of his bedroom. Opening it up, he pulled out one of his drawers, and took out the old file that he'd gotten from Arcturus, and compared the writing, and his heart sank, it was written by Fudge, this wasn't just a mix up. Fudge had falsified information and given it to Lord Black, condemned an heir to life imprisonment and racked up a veritable fortune in the years since.

If the goddamned Minister for Magic was in on this, who the hell could he go to about Sirius being imprisoned? MACUSA wouldn't be able to do anything. Not against the British Ministry for magic, not for a single wizard, one miscarriage of justice. It's not as if it was something as grievous as a grievous annihilation really. He'd only have one chance, just one chance to have it corrected, otherwise they would cover their tracks further than they'd already attempted.

Sorrow swamped Phoenix, the realization that Sirius would likely never truly be free, that he'd be on the run for what was left of his life. For a wizard that was a very long life indeed, one hundred and seventy years easily, but given his twelve years in Azkaban, it would likely lessen his lifespan. Quite significantly that, the horror of those dementors wouldn't just affect his emotions but his heart and internal organs along with it. Magic would likely only be able to do so much for him.

'It's said that when all hope is lost, the Potter will know what to do' Phoenix recalled his mother, Dorea saying, when she spoke about the legend they loved so much. The legend of Arthur and Merlin as well as the knights of the round table. Despite what the muggles thought, Arthur was magical, it is said that they put themselves into an enchanted sleep for they knew one day Albion's need would be at its greatest, and they'd rise again.

Nobody had ever found any of them, the nights, Arthur or even Merlin, a lot of people claim to have found their resting place, but never proven without a single doubt. There was even speculation that they were gods themselves coming down to help humanity thrive.

Biting his bottom lip, Phoenix wondered what he could do to help, short of offering Sirius a place to stay for the rest of his life, he was unsure of what else he could do. Huffing in annoyance, he rubbed his temples, musing on various ways he could get justice. However, without knowing just how far this all went, he couldn't plan anything out.

The unknown was a killer, who was the one who was paying to keep Sirius in prison? Why? What did they gain? That wasn't just a little bit of money, it had to be someone rich. Twenty-thousand galleon's a month for twelve years, that was a tall order. To be able to do that with ease? There were only a few families in the UK that could, he doubted it was anyone abroad.

Malfoy's, Doge, Diggle, Lestrange perhaps even Bones the only other families would be the Black's and Potters, and he knew it wasn't them since he controlled the Black fortune, and Harry likely didn't have control over his yet.

Dora popped in, "Your guest is awake," she informed him, before popping away again.

Phoenix inhaled sharply, well, time to visit Sirius, hopefully he wouldn't mistake him for Regulus or James again. Setting everything in his bureau, he closed it back up, taking no chances. As he left his bedroom, he couldn't help but wonder…if it was time to get his parents project out, perhaps he could finish it for them and get justice for Sirius. The warning from Hera ringing in his ears. Be careful, these people will not wish the truth to be known, ensure it's worth it before you go down this road.

The guest bedroom door was already open, and intelligent grey eyes met his, no pain or feverish bewilderment. "Good afternoon, Sirius, how are you feeling?"

"What did you do to my hair?!" he cried out, when he felt his head, horrified to find his hair completely gone.

Phoenix laughed, he couldn't help it, but he looked so mortified, "There was no saving your hair, I'm afraid, but once you're no longer on a list of potions as long as your arm, you may take something to speed up the process." He told Sirius amused.

Sirius just gaped at him horrified. He'd always had long hair, he'd never, ever been bald or worse had his hair shorn short. He didn't suit it; he'd found that out after his father had his hair cut when he was ten. He'd refused any and all offers after that, they just didn't have the faces to pull off the short hair look.

"I may have a beanie if you'd prefer your head covered?" Phoenix questioned dryly; he hadn't worn it since he'd gone to Switzerland with his parents for an entire month during the holidays when he was fourteen.

Sirius blinked, "I assume that it's some sort of hat?"

"It is, yes," Phoenix answered just as dry as before. "Considering it's thirty-two degrees I do believe it might be bad idea, but given your compromised immune system, perhaps not."

Sirius just stared at Phoenix an indecipherable look on his face.

"Do you remember me telling you who I was?" Phoenix asked, walking further into the room, and taking a seat, his gait smooth and confident.

Sirius nodded jerkily, yes, he remembered vaguely, it was a bit fuzzy but it was the first thing he recalled before today.

Artie popped into the room, a tray in his hands, "Lunch for Heir Black," the house-elf stated properly, floating over the tray to the wizard. It was nutritious and easy on the stomach, scrambled egg with toast, and some fruit, cut up pieces of melons.

"I'm not the heir," Sirius said defensively, with no small measure of bitterness coating his voice, it was so often the case when he was thinking or talking about his family.

Phoenix arched a brow, silently watching him, as he began to eat, starving enough to almost scarf the food down, but not doing so. He knew to do that would make himself sick, and he'd been raised an heir, with elocution lessons that made the very idea repugnant.

"You are the heir," Phoenix answered quietly, causing Sirius to choke and sputter in the face of that comment.

"What?" he croaked out, drinking from the goblet deeply.

"Arcturus made me Lord Black upon his death, with you as my heir, not until I have a child, but in hopes that you would have one." Phoenix explained sombrely, a pang hitting his heart, he missed the wizard a lot.

Sirius' eyes just about popped out of their sockets at the sheer sock of the wizards words. "You knew my grandfather?"

"He was my great uncle you know," Phoenix pointed out, their relationship as if it answered everything. "He had nobody towards the end, when I found out I made him come here, I looked after him until the very end." And he didn't regret it, not for a single second. Arcturus did have a lot of regrets about his life though.

Sirius grimaced, a pained look on his face, "Yeah, well it hasn't exactly been easy for me either." He petulantly murmured, his stomach already beginning to cramp with too much food. He'd actually been fond of his grandfather, or rather how he reacted to Walburga, it always amused him. He was glad he hadn't been alone; he hadn't been the same since grandmother had passed away. Part of him had died with her, he was always very sad. "Speaking off…why haven't you summoned the Aurors?" it's not like they knew each other, even if they shared a last name.

"Why would I want to do that?" Phoenix enquired, crossing his right leg over his left.

Sirius' brow furrowed, as he stared incredulously at Phoenix, "I'm an Azkaban escapee," in Azkaban for murder of all things.

"Are you now?" Phoenix uttered darkly.

Sirius' jaw dropped a little, what the hell was going on with this guy?

"To be considered an inmate of Azkaban prison, one must be convicted of a crime," Phoenix declared, a petulant scowl on his face, he seethed over the injustice.

Sirius' breathing hitched, grey eyes filling with tears, but none fell, a lump formed in his throat as he swallowed it away, "True," he whispered, trembling in shock, he didn't think anyone would ever believe it, believe he was actually innocent. At least not an adult, not someone who didn't even know him. After all, Remus had believed the worst of him. The hurt in his heart continued to expand ever outward, making him feel like he was going slowly insane from the pain of it. His own best friend hadn't believed him but this guy, this stranger had enough doubt in him to believe him innocent. It really, really hurt.

Phoenix smiled, truthfully it felt and likely looked more like a grimace, "Your grandfather believed you innocent, he didn't think for a moment you were capable of betraying James."

Sirius looked away, staring at the wall, tears pouring down his face, as he choked off a sob.

Phoenix stood silently, taking the tray, leaving the bowl of fruit on the nightstand for him, before moving out of the room. Giving him the privacy to come to terms what he'd just said. It would hit him hard; he'd spent so many years in Azkaban, it was only natural to feel overwhelmed that someone, anyone, and especially family, believed you were completely innocent. He wanted to go back in, to help him, to offer him some form of comfort, but he knew it wasn't his place. Perhaps if they'd grown up together – as they should have – maybe then he would have been in a position to offer such a thing. Regretfully he was a stranger to Sirius, he would just make it awkward, and so he moved to the kitchen and set it to the side next to the sink.

Inhaling sharply, he leaned back against the kitchen counter, he couldn't even imagine what the guy was going through right now. Hopefully with the mood stabilisers it would make it a little easier. Not much, but some, it was better than nothing. He'd give him an hour before he went back in, hopefully that would be enough time to compose himself. He would need his potions, and he couldn't just not give him them, he needed to be given the entire course that was prescribed.

Later that evening

"Artie?" Phoenix called out, sitting in the living room with a single glass of whiskey dangling between his fingers, far too pensive and burdened for his young age.

"How can I help?" Artie questioned his Master as he appeared before him, answering his call immediately.

"Would you bring me the boxes with my parents project please?" he didn't need to elaborate; Artie and Dora knew exactly what he was talking about. He was just too anxious to read anything, nothing held his attention, he just wanted to pace endlessly. Inhaling sharply, normally he could keep himself occupied, but having someone in his domain…and electing not to work was very disconcerting. He liked to keep himself busy, he had a lot of businesses so he did a lot of accounting, visiting, keeping the businesses running smoothly, he trusted all his managers implacably.

"I will return shortly," Artie agreed, and he was gone.

Inhaling sharply, he leant forward, elbows on his knees, a pensive look on his face. The knowledge that such a massive travesty of justice had gone on turned his stomach. He couldn't even go to anyone in Britian, clearly someone with a lot of money was lining Fudge's coffers, it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility they might kill to keep themselves safe, not to mention what Fudge himself would do. He had the entire Ministry at his beck and call, from the entire Auror force to Dementors that he was so swift to use.

Which meant hosting Sirius Black, a fugitive – according to the world at large – was an extremely dangerous thing. More than just one group might be after him, two for definite. The most dangerous one of all, he had no idea who they were, and what they were capable of.

If Sirius could find his island…what if others could?

It shouldn't be possible, the wards around the island should be as strong as ever. He needed someone to update them, check their strengths and perhaps he should even consider having the Fidelius Charm erected to give foolproof security. He really didn't like it, only he and Arcturus should have been able to get through those wards. Two more days, just two more days before Gemma hawking could come and investigate the wards around the island. It was no small job; it would take nearly a week to check every single radius of his island.

It couldn't come soon enough; he was bloody anxious enough as it was.

It would be a relief to get a proper night's sleep if he was honest with himself.

He woke to nightmares where his wards were ripped to shreds and both him and Sirius were kissed.

Artie popped in with a large file box sneezing as he did so, his large nose unable to cope with the amount of dust the box had generated.

"Set it on the table, please," Phoenix requested of him, wand already out, and getting rid of the dust that had made itself home. Once the house-elf's task was done, he disappeared without further commentary, getting himself settled for bed.

Opening the box up, he began to investigate the contents for the first time since he'd had it all magically boxed up after his parents deaths. They'd been searching for the tombs of Merlin, Arthur and all the knights of the round table, the legend said, that they'd be revived by a Potter when Albion's need was at its greatest.

He'd never really put much into it, history hadn't been all that great back then, information naturally got lost over time. However, he felt something resonating within him, and it had been slowly ticking away since he'd found a lack of Dark Mark emblazoned upon Sirius' arm when he first found him.

He'd read the file he'd gotten from Arcturus', the very file he'd been given by the Ministry, that loudly denoted Sirius' guilt, but despite all evidence Arcturus didn't believe it, he'd shared his belief of Sirius' innocence a lot in the years he'd lived here peacefully living out his remaining years. The file had been an utter fabrication, a bald-faced lie.

His soul was screaming for him to do something.

So, he would.

Starting with researching everything his parents had done, and retracing their steps.

"Well, mother, you have your wish, down the rabbit hole I go," Phoenix said dramatically, reaching for his glass and finishing the drink, setting it aside, he cracked his fingers and hunkered down to work. Might as well do something if he wasn't going to be able to rest.

A/N – so will we have Sirius avoiding any mention of Harry in a bid to stop the inevitable falling out that would occur when he learned he'd left Harry on his own? (or what he believes anyway) we'll get more into that the further along the story we get, likely just after Halloween when Harry's name comes out the goblet I think that's when I'll begin branching out from canon but part of me actually wants to wait until fifth year and Grimmauld Place and all! Hmm I did want this to be more about Phoenix's relationship with Sirius and helping him along the way more than the plot (the whole Merlin thing really blew itself out the water there lol) I want it to be a side plot but I feel like it's going to take over big time! I'm going to try veering it away from that but we'll see how it goes! so why do you think Phoenix doesn't have Harry? will they ever meet? Who is behind paying Fudge to keep Sirius incarcerated? will it ever be found out? R&R please!