2nd of March 1995 - Ministry of Magic, Skyfall, Volstar
Coming back to the here and now was a little jarring.
The memory had been so thoroughly immersive, so vivid that it took several minutes for some of the spectators and Wizengamot to center themselves and separate their perception back onto where they actually were and not where they expected to be.
Harry immediately announced a half hour break at a gesture that had the huge doors wide open so he could call on the small squad of healers and mind-healers he had had waiting on standby in a nearby conference room to check in with everyone and administer Calming Draught where prudent.
He himself ended up wrapped squished in the middle of Sirius and Remus while they cried for what was lost. They had surprisingly not required a dose of Calming Draught, both able to respond to Fredericks quiet questions through their grief, though neither seemed intent on letting Harry go any time soon.
It was natural after loss to cling tightly to what was left. He knew that it was painful loses like these that tended to breed issues of dependency between people, the very real and intense need for one or the other to be present. To be well and protected.
Not something he was ultimately concerned about with Sirius or Remus. They were both quite keen to see him alive and well, certainly. But neither would lose sleep if they went a day or more without checking in, neither's happiness or well being had hinged on his safety and continued existence. He didn't think sharing in his memory would change that.
Sirius had come so far in his recovery since that first time Harry had seen him, emaciated and haunted in the tattered remains of the Shrieking Shack. He had put back on a solid weight, redeveloped muscle tone from all the hard work he had been doing around the city and the yoga he did every morning and night before his meditations to help with his balance and lingering restlessness.
His therapy sessions had clearly been helping him move past the bulk of negative feelings he had hoarded over the years and used to wrap protectively around the few remaining positive ones he had left.
He had actively been taking care of himself, even while he had been running around in the background helping Harry and everyone else build their little country into one they could actually be proud of.
Which honestly had been something Harry had worried over at first, that Sirius had gone so long without, that he had somehow forgotten to take care of himself.
But given half a chance and a little encouragement the black sheep of the Black family had picked himself up, dusted himself off and got back to it, all the while flipping the world at large the metaphoric bird for thinking that he would just roll over and take it.
He had a long history of picking himself up out of the dirt.
Sometimes Harry forgot that.
Remus was actually a little worse off, though he too pulled himself back together.
Though now his embrace was just as tight as Sirius' had always been.
Now he knew, along with everyone else what Harry had experienced and what he had lost before he had even gained it.
They settled onto the bench Remus had been sitting on for the trial, right near the front and just behind the barrier that was charmed to prevent the sound of intelligible words from passing through into what Sirius had termed the business section of the courtroom.
It had been Remus' idea, the barrier, sound still passed back and forth and words that originated from the Wizengamot side of the huge room passed through crystal clear. But any spoken - or shouted, slurred or sung for that matter - word from the audience side of the room would pass through as an indistinct mumble of sound.
The general idea, in these rooms where lies could not be told, was to protect the individuals that had been called forth to give testimony from the average John Smith in the crowd from shouting out whatever they wanted and derailing the whole process.
Or worse.
People like Rita Skeeter who would use the opportunity the sacred ritual gave her in order to wheedle as much gossip fodder as she could out of it and smear it around the papers for profit, or fame.
Seated on the bench that had been well engraved with hidden runes for comfort, Harry pushed the unpleasant thought away to consider how odd it already felt to be sitting, even temporarily on the other side of the wooden barrier that separated the two sections of the room.
For all that he'd only been sitting in his fancy high spot for a handful of hours it felt very different somehow, the switch between King Harry and Just Harry sitting with his godfather and friend.
"Alright, Harry?"
He blinked, pulled from his wandering thoughts by Remus' quiet voice, his expression earnest and concerned. "What?"
"Are you alright?" The man asked again. "You wandered off a little bit there."
"Right, sorry about that. I was just thinking how strange it feels sitting on this side." He explained and shrugged. "It seems a bit odd to already be attached to one perspective."
Sirius hummed quietly and cast a look around the room where everyone else was settling down, having managed to pull themselves back together. "Technically, you've been in here several times before today's session. When you were setting up for the ritual and directing Jack and ol' Matthew how to set up all the furnishings. Helping the elves plant all this greenery. You spent a lot of time managing everything from that side of the room."
"I suppose." Harry hedged, then remembered something. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you something actually. Why did everyone call me 'Mischief' as a baby?"
Both men broke into grins, despite the recent sadness, buoyed by whatever memory the question had evoked.
"Now that is a very 'Marauder' story." Remus told him, one hand scratching absently at his mustache.
Sirius nodded, then shifted a little so he could lean down and put himself at his godson's shorter eye height. "When you were born, we were all there at the house to greet you and for added protection since the Fidelius wasn't up yet and obviously neither James or Lily would be in any state to fight back if the Death Eaters found them…"
"Anyway," Remus cut in, shoulders drooped a little at the mention of the Death Eaters. "We were all camped out in the sitting room, ready to jump up and save the day, either from that lot or from all your mothers accidental magic."
"Right, her magic was going bonkers, absolutely mad, we kept having to put out fires from these little lightning strikes that kept dancing round the house. It even rained in the kitchen." Sirius added on excitedly, grin stretched ear to ear.
"The walls kept switching colours and Peter had to sit on the rug to keep it from flying off." Remus told him, chuckling at the memory despite the mention of their traitorous former friend. "The telly flat exploded, scared the devil out of the lot of us, we all jumped so high. Sirius nearly levitated for a moment."
Sirius barked a happy laugh. "I swear I did, though I'm not sure it was me that did it. Anyway, we were all there and it was hours later and we were all exhausted from keeping the rampant magic contained when your father comes stumbling into the room, little sparks of lightning shooting off his glasses, hair on end like you wouldn't believe and looking like he's gone ten rounds with a herd of angry hippogryphs."
The werewolf nodded, his expression turned more fond. "He had you wrapped up in his arms, already swaddled in that tiny Appleby Arrows baby blanket he had found somewhere after Lily forbade Chudley Cannons or Puddlemere United stuff in the house after he tried to decorate your nursery with..."
"You were so tiny." Sirius said softly. "And the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. But James, the wanker, he looks at us, wrecked and soaked from magic indoor rain and he grins at us and says-"
"He says-"
"Mischief managed!" They both announced in a merry shout, which of course caused more than a couple people to give their little group odd looks with eyebrows raised.
"You're joking?" Harry asked, glowing eyes wide. "Like with the map?"
"No joke." Sirius assured him, practically glowing with mirth.
Remus chuckled, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Your mother wasn't impressed with the nickname we had all decided to christen you with, insisted on calling you by name. Right up until you got a bit of strength up and started zooming around the house."
"Faster than a snitch and twice as cheeky. Even Lily started calling you Mischief, said she seemed to gravitate mischief makers to her." Sirius told him with a little huff of laughter.
"Not much has changed there. Except instead of turning the lamp table over, it's the rest of the world he's setting on its head." Remus chuckled.
"Even surrounds himself with mischief makers." Sirius agreed with a nod.
Harry frowned a little at that. "Hermione's not like that."
The older animagus barked a laugh. "No? She's not the same witch that finagled her way into time warping artefact so she could do what she wanted. One of those things breaking the rules for its use and the laws of Wizarding Great Britain by aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive?"
"Oh the time she went against against teachers wishes to help you and Ronald through that labyrinth of tasks they'd set up in your first year?" Remus added, head bowed a little as one eyebrow rose.
The young king huffed and looked away from the amused looks. "Alright, point made."
Both men chuckled at his easy surrender and they fell into a silence while they sat together, the sadness of earlier comfortably set aside to be gradually dealt with over time in safer, more private spaces where they would have ample time and room to explore the thoughts underneath the feelings.
But in the here and now they were alright, all three of them.
Eventually the small break ran out and without prompting everyone was finding their way back to their selected seats, Sirius offering Remus a pat on the shoulder before moving back to his own spot.
Stepping up into his fancy place in the business side of the room, Harry settled in and swept his eyes over the people in the room, doing a quick check of faces against his memory to determine if anyone was missing.
Then finding everyone present and accounted for he closes the heavy looking doors.
In comparison to the other memories that had been reviewed previous the last, the memories of Pettigrew alive and well and escaping despite best efforts, his effortless animagus transformation mid-run and the swarming dementors and the late Minister Fudge's disregard of their attempts to set the record straight and bring the injustice to light. All of it left a grumble in the gathered. Frustration and dissatisfaction where there had been horror and sorrow.
When time came for the Wizengamot to deliberate on the evidence that had been provided Harry sat himself to one side of the large meeting room that had of course been magically expanded to fit a group meeting of the full Wizegamot when the time came in the future that all those seats were filled.
He had intended to keep out of it, considered himself biased and therefore shouldn't take part in the discussion, regardless of how readily he would respect any decisions they came to.
It wasn't long before they told him they had come to one, though he hadn't honestly expected there to be a very long one. Both the fact that it was impossible to lie in the High Court courtrooms and the immersive viewing of the memories had, as Sirius had hoped and insisted, driven home his innocence beyond any reasonable doubt.
Honestly, Harry was just sorry so many people had had to experience that same horror and pain they had.
But he would trust each of them to know themselves and if that failed, he had faith in the system he had been building to make sure mental and emotional health wasn't something that was swept under the rug like a dirty secret.
People, he was learning, were terribly complex organisms regardless of what race or upbringing they had. Capable of great highs and lows, joys and sorrows. It was a discredit to each person to ignore any part of that.
They filtered back into the courtroom proper and retook their seats with little fuss or chatter.
"We meet in this time, the second day of March in the year nineteen-ninety-five, within this courtroom to review the matter of Lord Sirius Orion Black the Third of his name, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black." He announced then looked to the side.
Purevein, one of the goblins that had been selected by their king to represent the goblins as a whole upon the Wizengamot climbed back to his feet, having been selected as their spokesperson. "Aye, upon the review of available evidence and testimony presented, this judicial body found no guilt of the crimes he was charged with by the auror forces of Wizarding Great Britain."
"Then you declare him innocent of all alleged crimes?" Harry repeated, not a little vindictively, so that in future the people that reviewed the memories of this trial would have no choice but to hear.
"We the Wizengamot of Volstar, do so find Lord Sirius Orion Back, third of his name, innocent of all charges." Purevein reiterated, a certain twinkle in his dark eyes giving away that he just had an inkling on where Harry's mind had gone.
There was a happy murmur of sound from the audience side of the magic barrier that separated the two halves of the room, not so clear enough as to give way to words, but enough that they could judge from the tone and the satisfied expressions of their audience that the people were pleased with the verdict.
"Wonderful." Harry said with a smile, allowing himself to relax a little from his rigid posture. "Now that that's settled I have two last items of business before we finish here."
Assured that he had the attention of the room again Harry leaned forward, letting his arms cross on his little hidden desk. "I know how terribly new this all is, the very first trial of our fledgling nation. However, going forward I'd like to assure you all that while some elements will be different to this one we all experienced today. Most notably the spell that was used to share the memories we all re-lived."
He took in the solemn but riveted attention before pressing onward. "While the aforementioned spell was originally created for sharing moments of joy among family members such as a child's first steps or words, weddings or the like, as we all experienced today it can quite easily share the less pleasant emotions. As such its use will not be a common occurrence nor part of standard procedure. Its inclusion today was approved on the merit that it would aid a defendant with little in the way of available evidence to help establish intent and disprove motive.
"There are many potential cases that this spell could be approved for use, however there are even more, which I'm sure you can all understand where its use will be strictly forbidden. First and foremost Volstar exists as a welfare state, as such the health, safety and overall well being of its people is the primary concern of this government."
He pushed himself to his feet and made his way down to stand in front of Sirius.
"And now the final piece of business." He announced and smiled down at his godfather whose head was cocked to one side, expression perplexed. "Sirius Orion Black, as sovereign of these lands, by power, will and word I welcome you. I offer you who has stood at my back and tried valiantly to protect me, a home here as a rightful citizen of these lands. I ratify the nobility of your House and offer to you the gift of land in which to settle upon."
It was all Harry could do not to burst into laughter, seeing the other look so absolutely gobsmacked. Harry knew the other had expected a quiet thing, when it came to his finally settling down, if he ever did. A soft word spoken in Harry's office, a little paperwork and then he'd be on his merry way.
He certainly hadn't seemed to expect Harry to welcome him so publicly, to make the offer official in a way that would absolutely make the rounds back to Britain and the people that had snubbed him or worse back there.
Harry wanted him there, welcomed him into the arms of the safety he had been building, wanted the world to know.
"Do you accept?" Harry asked, raising a black eyebrow when the other was silent a touch too long, clearly lost in his shock.
"I-yeah." Sirius stammered, blinking rapidly. "I mean, yes, I'd be honoured."
The young king chuckled and held out a hand. "Then welcome home, Sirius."
The older man reached for the proffered hand and allowed himself to be pulled up out of his seat. "So...what now then?" He asked, rubbing a hand through his hair in an absent show of unease.
"Now?" Harry parroted. "Now I close the session and see how everyone feels about a picnic in the fields to celebrate."
Sirius laughed and gave Harry's shoulder a nudge. "Now that's an idea I can get behind."
"Somehow I thought you might." Harry teased as he turned his attention to the side of the room where Percy was still sitting at his little desk waiting for his closing statement. "Then at this time, and in this place. I, Harry, sovereign and protector of these lands, call this court session to a close."
The quiet murmur of conversation started up again as everyone climbed to their feet with the intention of going back to their regular day.
Sirius wondered back over to chat with Remus, no doubt to make plans for their lunch picnic while Harry strode over to Percy as the older teen went about packing up the tools he had been using into their appropriate storage spaces in his desk.
"Well, Percy, how do you feel about your first court session?" He asked the ginger.
Percy blinked up at Harry before straightening. "Well I think, your majesty, though quite a bit...it was much more intense in some ways than the other trials or conferences I've worked thus far."
Harry nodded, taking the observation on board. "That's not too surprising, all things considered. But please feel free to still call me Harry when we're talking informally like this."
"Oh, I couldn't possibly, the difference in our status is…"
"Less of a concern if you consider that I've considered the Weasley family my friends as a whole since I was eleven years old. Granted that's not that long ago, but we've had breakfast together several times, in pyjamas." Harry reminded him with a small smile.
The older teens cheeks reddened slightly at the reminder and cleared his throat. "Yes, well, if that's what you'd like then I'll do my best to honour your wishes."
Feeling a little bad for being so amused by the other's discomfort, Harry shifted the conversation onto other topics. "How are you settling in overall, Remus mentioned that you arrived about a week ago?"
"Oh, yes. Very well, I think." Percy assured him, though his expression was one of honest surprise. "I had enough savings to acquire a small flat, though I admit it's rather...well...more than I was expecting for the price." He admitted.
Harry nodded. "That's a pretty common reaction, all's said. You'll find that our minimum standards for living are rather different than a lot of places you'll visit. A lot of thought went into making sure each of our citizens got the best support we could give them to do well."
"Honestly I can't imagine the sort of costs involved with it all." The older teen admitted, colourful brows drawing down. "I remember the few budget meetings I served as notary for during my short time with the British Ministry, and it all seemed so terribly expensive to...well, to do anything I suppose."
The young king inclined his head at that. "Please understand that I'm not saying this to be insulting or to disparage the hard work of its people, but I think you'll find a large part of the reason that the British Ministry has struggled to find the resources to invest into its infrastructure, research or expansion is because of the British Ministry. I know you keep up with the news so you've been following the mess that has been coming to light."
"Yes, I-I honestly don't know how to feel about it all." Percy admitted, eyes dropping to study his hands. "I had built up this imagine in my head, the noble Ministry trying valiantly to bring order to the chaos of the world. An important job for important people."
"You feel betrayed." Harry realised, reading the others posture and expression.
"I...yes, I suppose that's the best way to sum it up. It's why I applied for immigration here, you know. A fresh start and all that." Percy told him, shrugging just slightly, like an old habit he had tried to teach himself not to do.
Harry nodded. "Well you'll certainly get that. As to your earlier query, the cost of setting up and maintaining our minimum standards is relatively small since we don't have to worry about things like fitting into pre-existing spaces since we're building everything new in open grassland. We also don't have to worry about things like zoning in regards to making sure someone non-magical doesn't come into ownership of magical property. Which also means we can use magic as much as we want or need in the construction and maintenance of each building or public space. Expansion enchantments, temperature regulating charms, waste and water management. We don't need to rely on non-magical alternatives for fear of someone muggle wandering around and asking questions." Harry explained, watching intently as the older teen considered each point.
"So that's why I could buy a three bedroom flat with a study, kitchen and its own laundry for the same price I would have expected to pay for a one bedroom flat with a kitchenette in Diagon Alley or Horizont Alley." The ginger surmised, fingers absentmindedly tapping on his desk. "I had thought the requirement on finances for the move had seemed rather steep but given the sort of dwelling it affords people while allowing a hefty amount left over for daily expenses and the like."
"That was the plan we had in mind. We didn't want people to have any false expectations about whether they would be able to find a roof to put over their heads or food in their bellies. If someone meets the requirements they've automatically financially secure in their ability to secure housing, meals and medical expenses if required. That's not to say that our government isn't willing to work with people who can't meet those requirements to see if some sort of arrangement can't be made, but ideally we want our newest citizens to hit the ground running."
Percy's gaze shifted from his hands to study Harry a moment before he smiled, a small stilted thing, but more than Harry could ever recall seeing from the older teen. "I think that's quite noble."
"We try." Harry responded with a small shrug and a smile in return.
Huddled behind the curtains of his Hogwarts bed, Draco stared down at the letter in his hands.
It was his own writing, so he knew each word, every question.
Still, he could admit, even just to himself that he was perhaps experiencing just a smidgen of trepidation.
The letter was still addressed to HRH Harry James Hyperion of House Potter. Still sealed in wax and noted in even curling letters, his name and status of Heir of House Malfoy on the back.
It's contents still contained more honest, though hedged, questions than he could remember posing to anyone since he had started learning about history at his fathers knee.
Though this was the first time he had opted to take such potentially life changing first steps without seeking out the council of his father though. Hadn't breathed a word that he was even considering reaching out to Potter to potentially start inroads with the other teen that had previously been the bane of his life.
That title had recently gone to Zacharia Smith, the monumental arse.
But the pretentious ass of Hufflepuff aside, Draco had had ample chance to do a lot of thinking over the past month or so since the second tasks dramatics.
A lot of time to think about wandering trolls and disappearing teachers.
About rampaging basilisks and grown men with a proclivity for memory charms and a desire for everyone, even small children to love and fawn over him.
To think about escaped convicts that may have been innocent all along and hordes of dementors swarming a school full of children with no way to defend themselves against them should they turn.
About ancient tournaments that pit children against each other with little care if they were snuffing out a potentially bright future that would have bolstered and helped their world flourish. And Death Eaters masquerading as veteran aurors, as teachers casting unforgivables upon children under the guise of learning.
Mostly though it was that last point that had stuck with him.
The resurgence of Death Eater activity, first at the Quidditch World Cup, now here in the heart of Hogwarts, a place frequently touted as the safest in Britain.
He knew his father was keeping close council on the matter, based at least upon the terseness of his letters. His mothers letters had read as normal on the surface, but knowing her as well as he did, learning the workings of society from her lap, Draco knew she was less than pleased at best or downright worried at worst.
Considering what it had nearly cost their family the last time He was in power and the Death Eaters had been out in force. The last time they had fallen.
And oddly Draco didn't doubt that they would fall again after what he had seen first hand from Potter.
What he had felt.
He had always been a touch magic sensitive, but he hadn't needed it since everyone had felt the huge force of magic that had come up when Potter had been dealing with the Questing Beast. The sheer magnitude and depth of power had been staggering.
Seeing him from Diggory's perspective, body wreathed in a glow of power and eyes burning green flames in the midst of it all had caused such a visceral reaction it was honestly mind numbing.
So he had pondered and weighed the weight of his own burgeoning beliefs, his fathers expectations, his mothers wishes and the certainty that had come with the weight of that power that had been felt so purely hundreds of meters, thousands of meters away from where he and the rest of the spectators were seated.
He had pondered it all, quiet as the grave beside the common room fireplace, hidden behind bed curtains and around dark forgotten dungeon halls until he had only one unavoidable conclusion.
The world was changing.
And it would leave them behind at best, or crush them at worst if they didn't change with it.
Mind made, Draco tucked the letter under his pillow with the intention of sending it off hidden amongst the rest of his weekly mail in the morning.
Decided at last he wriggled his way under thick blankets spelled even warmer and dimmed his wand. Content to dream about dancing dragons and the taste of storms.