Hello,
I wasn't going to post this today but in light of the news of the passing of our dear Professor McGonagall, Maggie Smith, we need a bit more Harry Potter in our lives. Please see the following as a sign of respect.
A Farewell to Professor Minerva McGonagall: A Light That Will Never Fade
It is with the deepest sorrow and respect that we must announce the passing of one of Hogwarts' most beloved and steadfast figures, Professor Minerva McGonagall. A force to be reckoned with, Professor McGonagall embodied everything that makes a true Gryffindor—courage, loyalty, and unwavering strength. Today, we bid farewell to the witch who stood firm against the darkest of times, guiding us all with her wisdom, integrity, and, when necessary, a stern but fair hand.
For decades, Professor McGonagall served as Deputy Headmistress, Transfiguration professor, and Head of Gryffindor House, always ensuring that every student who walked through the castle gates knew what it meant to be a witch or wizard of honor. She was not simply an educator but a mentor and protector, shaping the hearts and minds of generations, always ensuring that right was upheld over wrong, no matter the cost.
Known for her quick wit and sharp tongue, Minerva McGonagall commanded respect from both students and staff alike. Her unflinching loyalty to Hogwarts and its principles saw her stand against the forces of darkness on more than one occasion, most memorably in the Battle of Hogwarts, where she led her students and colleagues with the bravery of a true lion. Yet, beneath the stern exterior was a heart full of compassion—she never failed to fight for those she cared for, and her fierce devotion to her students will never be forgotten.
Minerva was a master of Transfiguration, unmatched in her field. Yet, her true magic was found in her guidance, her ability to inspire others to be their very best. She held her students to the highest standards, but only because she knew what they were capable of—she saw the best in all of us, even when we couldn't see it in ourselves.
Though we mourn the loss of a great witch, let us remember that Minerva McGonagall's legacy will live on in the walls of Hogwarts, in every spell cast and every lesson learned. She was a witch of immense talent, boundless courage, and, above all, a kind heart. Her life was dedicated to the service of others, and we are all better for having known her.
Raise your wands for Professor McGonagall—a true legend of our time. She may be gone from this world, but her spirit will forever remain, as enduring as the castle she loved and defended.
Rest in peace, Minerva. Your light will never fade.
Quick Note: Fudge will be chief warlock as Dumbledore will be testifying. It'll just be for this trial.
Chapter 11
The morning sunlight streaming through the enchanted ceiling of Hogwarts was muted by an uneasy grayness, as though the day itself sensed the gravity of what was to come. Hermione woke with a gasp. The memory of the night in the room of requirement lingered like a dark cloud. She reached for her wand, half-expecting the same flickering, failing magic that had haunted her practice in the Room of Requirement. But when she cast a simple Lumos, the light sprang to life, steady and bright.
Her magic was back to normal. The instability, the sputtering spells gone, as if it had never happened. But the ease with which the dark spells had flowed through her still unsettled her. Hermione shook her head, pushing the thoughts aside. She didn't have time to dwell on it. Not yet, anyway.
Hermione sat at the long Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, the Daily Prophet spread before her. The headline, larger and bolder than usual, loomed over the breakfast spread, and Hermione's eyes moved swiftly over the front-page article.
"Sirius Black Turns Himself In: Will Justice Be Served or Will the Dark Wizard Walk Free?"
Below the headline, a moving photograph of Sirius in chains, walking through the Ministry's Atrium, stared back at her. His expression was resolute, but gaunt—his imprisonment and years on the run had aged him far beyond his years. Hermione felt a knot of worry tighten in her stomach.
Harry, sitting across from her, scowled at the paper. "Look at this rubbish," he muttered, his voice dark. He slammed his copy of the Prophet onto the table, causing a few first-years nearby to jump. "They're making him out to be some criminal mastermind again."
"Black's decision to surrender has raised suspicions about his true motivations. Is it a last-ditch attempt to manipulate the justice system, or a calculated move by a dangerous fugitive with nothing left to lose? Skeptics wonder if his so-called reformation is simply another lie in a life built on deceit and betrayal."
Hermione nodded solemnly. "Rita Skeeter's doing what she always does—twisting the truth into something dramatic. She's painting him like he's already guilty."
Harry was visibly seething, his eyes locked on the headline as though he could will it to change. "It's like they've forgotten he's already spent twelve years in Azkaban for something he didn't do. They're acting like him turning himself in is some trick."
"They'll see the truth," Hermione said softly, but with determination. "We've gathered all the evidence we need, and the testimonies will speak for themselves. They can't keep ignoring the truth."
Harry sighed, but the tension in his body didn't ease. "Yeah, but what if they don't care? What if they've already made up their minds?" He looked around the hall, as if the whole world was in on some terrible joke.
"They have to care," Hermione insisted, though the thought gnawed at her too. "Sirius is innocent. We've got Remus, Snape, even Ron and Percy giving their statements. They'll see reason."
Harry's face tightened, but he nodded. He pulled out his summons to testify, the black Ministry seal glistening ominously in the morning light. "I got this earlier," he said, staring at the parchment. "We're expected there by noon."
Hermione pulled out her own summons, feeling the weight of it more than ever. Summoned to testify on behalf of Sirius Orion Black, charged with conspiracy, treason, and murder. It felt cold in her hands, and Hermione knew this trial was far more than a legal battle—it was a fight for Sirius's freedom, maybe even his life.
The journey to the Ministry felt longer than it should have. Harry and Hermione had Apparated to the Atrium, stepping into the bustling, dimly lit space filled with rushing Ministry workers and nosy reporters. The fountain gurgled quietly in the center, its golden statues gleaming in the torchlight.
"Do you think they'll listen to us?" Harry asked under his breath as they moved toward the lifts. His voice had an edge of doubt.
"They'll have to," Hermione replied, her voice firm. "We've prepared for this. Everything we need to clear Sirius is ready. This time, we won't let them railroad him like they did before."
The doors of the lift opened with a loud ding, and as they stepped inside, Hermione felt a wave of nerves crash over her. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong, that somehow, despite all their efforts, Sirius might still be trapped in a system designed to see him as guilty no matter the evidence.
The courtroom was filled with an air of heavy anticipation when they arrived. Courtroom Ten was dimly lit, the large stone benches towering over the center of the room, where Sirius was already shackled to a chair, his wrists bound in thick, enchanted chains. His dark eyes scanned the room as Harry and Hermione entered, and he gave them a small, almost imperceptible nod.
Hermione felt her chest tighten. It was unjust, all of it—seeing Sirius bound like that, as though he were some dangerous criminal. It was wrong.
"They don't need to chain him like that," Harry muttered beside her, his voice thick with anger.
Hermione placed a calming hand on his arm. "They do this to everyone on trial," she said, trying to reassure him, though the sight of Sirius restrained like that made her stomach churn. "Once we've proven his innocence, those chains will come off."
They took their seats in the witness gallery, the courtroom quickly filling up with members of the Wizengamot, Ministry officials, and a smattering of reporters scribbling furiously into their enchanted quills. Among them was Rita Skeeter, her acid-green quill already scratching across parchment, undoubtedly turning whatever she saw into something sensational and inflammatory.
The room was abuzz with whispered conversations, the tension growing as the trial was about to begin. Fudge, looking uncomfortable in his role as Chief Warlock, shuffled his papers as he sat at the head of the court, his expression neutral but stiff.
Hermione's mind was buzzing with anticipation. The trial was their chance—Sirius's only chance. She had reviewed every piece of evidence a hundred times, memorized every argument they would make. But still, a small part of her worried. What if they don't believe us?
The trial officially began with Remus Lupin being called to the witness stand.
Remus stood tall as he walked to the center of the courtroom, his face lined with exhaustion but his posture determined. The murmurs in the room died down as he took his place.
"Remus John Lupin," the clerk announced, his voice echoing off the cold stone walls. "You are called to testify on behalf of Sirius Orion Black."
The courtroom fell into a tense silence as Remus began his testimony. His voice was steady, filled with conviction. "I have known Sirius Black for nearly my entire life," Remus began, his eyes scanning the courtroom, stopping briefly on Harry before moving on. "We were at Hogwarts together. We were friends. And when the Potters were betrayed, I believed, like everyone else, that Sirius had done it. That he had given them up to Voldemort. But I was wrong. We were all wrong."
A murmur ran through the courtroom, but Remus continued, undeterred. He recounted the events leading up to James and Lily Potter's deaths, carefully explaining how Peter Pettigrew, not Sirius, had been the real traitor. He spoke of the years they had believed the lie, and how Sirius had been wrongfully imprisoned for over a decade.
"Sirius Black did not betray his friends," Remus said, his voice growing stronger. "He has risked everything to protect Harry Potter and to atone for a crime he never committed."
Hermione watched the faces of the Wizengamot as Remus spoke. Some of them were visibly moved by his words, their expressions softening, but others remained stone-faced, including Fudge, who seemed to shift uncomfortably in his seat.
When Remus finished, the silence in the room was palpable. His words hung in the air like a heavy cloud, the gravity of what he had said sinking in.
Next, Severus Snape was called to testify, and the room seemed to collectively hold its breath. The history between Snape and Sirius was no secret, and no one expected Snape to be particularly kind in his testimony.
Snape walked to the stand with his usual air of disdain, his black robes sweeping the floor behind him. His dark eyes flicked briefly toward Sirius, and his lip curled ever so slightly before he began.
"Sirius Black and I were never friends," Snape said, his voice cold but steady. "In fact, I detest the man. However, I can testify to one thing: Sirius Black was no servant of You-Know-Who."
This admission caused a stir in the courtroom. Snape continued, his voice as sharp as ever. "During my time as a Death Eater, I never once encountered any evidence that Sirius Black was involved with the Dark Lord's inner circle. He was a reckless fool, yes, but not a traitor. Not in the way you believe."
The courtroom murmured again, but this time the tone was different—more uncertain. Snape's reputation as a man of cold logic and unsentimental truth carried weight, and his testimony couldn't easily be dismissed.
"We will continue with the testimonies for the defense of Sirius Orion Black," Fudge announced, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Next witness—Ronald Weasley."
Hermione saw Ron gulp nervously from his seat, his face pale as he stood and made his way toward the witness stand. His shoulders were stiff, and he shot a quick glance at his parents, who were seated near the back, before facing the gathered Wizengamot.
The courtroom stilled as Ron adjusted himself in the chair, fidgeting with his robe as he waited for the proceedings to begin.
"Ronald Bilius Weasley," the clerk announced. "You are called to testify on behalf of Sirius Orion Black."
Ron cleared his throat, casting a glance toward Harry and Hermione before addressing the court. His voice wavered slightly at first, but it grew stronger as he began recounting the events that had led to the revelation of Peter Pettigrew's survival.
"I—I've had a pet rat for most of my life," Ron began, his voice loud enough to carry across the room. "His name was Scabbers. Or at least, that's what I thought. Turns out, he wasn't really a rat. He was Peter Pettigrew in disguise."
There was a ripple of murmurs throughout the courtroom. The idea of a man hiding as a rat for over a decade was still difficult for many to grasp, but Ron pressed on, his hands wringing together in his lap.
"He'd been living with my family for twelve years," Ron continued, his voice more certain now. "We had no idea he was an Animagus. It wasn't until our third year, when Harry, Hermione, and I learned the truth… in the Shrieking Shack."
Ron took a deep breath, the weight of those memories clear on his face. "We thought Sirius had betrayed Harry's parents, but then we found out Pettigrew was the real traitor. Sirius was trying to catch him, not kill us."
Fudge looked mildly skeptical, but several of the Wizengamot members leaned forward slightly, clearly interested in this unexpected twist. Hermione watched them carefully, noting their reactions. The idea of someone living as a rat for twelve years seemed absurd, but Ron's testimony made it undeniable.
Ron's voice grew stronger as he recounted the moment Pettigrew had been revealed in his human form. "Pettigrew was cornered, and he tried to run, but Sirius and Professor Lupin stopped him. They saved us. And I saw it with my own eyes—Pettigrew transformed back into a rat before escaping again."
The courtroom erupted into murmurs, but Fudge quickly silenced them with a wave of his hand.
Ron took a deep breath, his voice more certain now. "Sirius was innocent. He didn't kill anyone. Pettigrew's the one who should be in that chair, not him."
With that, Ron stepped down, glancing toward Hermione and Harry as he returned to his seat. Hermione could see the tension in his posture, but she gave him a small, encouraging smile.
The next witness was Percy Weasley. Percy walked toward the stand with his usual stiff formality, his eyes betraying no emotion as he faced the Wizengamot.
"Percy Ignatius Weasley," the clerk announced, "you are called to testify on behalf of Sirius Orion Black."
Percy began in his typical, overly formal tone. "As the third eldest of the Weasley children, I lived with Peter Pettigrew, disguised as a rat, for twelve years. I had him in my care before I passed him on to my younger brother, Ronald. At the time, none of us had any idea that the rat was an Animagus hiding from justice."
His testimony was precise and factual, much like Ron's, though Percy's words carried a certain authority that came with his position in the Ministry. He focused more on the legal implications.
"Peter Pettigrew, in his Animagus form, infiltrated my family for over a decade," Percy continued. "This deception not only endangered my family but also led to the wrongful conviction of Sirius Black. The fact that the Ministry failed to investigate this Animagus is a serious oversight."
Hermione noted the shift in the atmosphere—Percy's testimony, though dry, added weight to the defense. The Ministry's failures in properly investigating Pettigrew would not go unnoticed by the more legally minded members of the Wizengamot.
As Percy finished, he adjusted his robes and returned to his seat, offering Ron a brief, strained nod. The brothers seemed united in their defense of Sirius, though the tension between them was evident.
Fudge called for a brief recess, and the courtroom was filled with hushed voices as the Wizengamot members rose to leave. The lunch break had come, but the tension had hardly lessened. If anything, it felt as though the air was more electric, buzzing with the potential for the unexpected.
The lunch break provided a small reprieve, but the tension remained as thick as ever. Hermione and Harry sat together in one of the Ministry's private rooms, alongside Remus. His face was unreadable, but Hermione could sense the weight of the trial pressing on him.
"Ron and Percy did well, I am grateful he didn't hate me enough to not testify" Harry muttered, his voice low. "But do you think it's enough?"
Remus gave a small smile, though his eyes remained shadowed. "It's not just about their testimonies, Harry. It's the full picture—the way everything fits together. We've planted enough doubt. It's hard for the Wizengamot to ignore all of it."
Hermione remained silent, her mind still racing through the morning's events. The testimonies had been strong, but they were still at the mercy of the Ministry. Fudge's reluctance was obvious, and she knew they had to do more to tip the scales in their favor.
If only I could control the outcome, she thought fleetingly, before shaking the thought away. She wasn't there yet. Not yet.
When they returned to the courtroom after lunch, the tension was thicker than ever. The Wizengamot members filed back into their seats, their faces a mix of anticipation and skepticism.
The heavy doors of the courtroom creaked open, and the entire room fell into a stunned silence as Narcissa Malfoy swept in, her robes trailing gracefully behind her. Her platinum-blonde hair gleamed under the dim light, her sharp features set in an expression of cold determination. Every eye in the room followed her as she made her way to the witness stand.
No one had expected this.
Hermione, seated beside Harry, felt her heart skip a beat. Narcissa Malfoy? What was she doing here? There had been no indication she would testify. Harry shifted beside her, his face a mask of disbelief, clearly caught off guard by her presence as well. The quiet murmurs that filled the room moments before had vanished, replaced by an oppressive silence.
Cornelius Fudge looked equally taken aback, though he quickly composed himself. "Narcissa Malfoy," he announced, his voice carrying the weight of his own surprise, "you are called to testify on behalf of Sirius Orion Black."
Narcissa moved with practiced grace, taking her place at the witness stand as though she had been preparing for this moment her entire life. Her icy gaze swept the room before settling on the members of the Wizengamot, many of whom looked equally startled.
When she finally spoke, her voice was calm, clear, and precise. "Sirius Black is my cousin," she began, her words measured, each syllable carefully chosen. "Though our family has been estranged for many years, we share the same bloodline—the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."
There was a ripple of reaction from the courtroom, but Narcissa continued undeterred. She wasn't here to appease anyone's curiosity. She was here to set the record straight.
"Many of you may be aware that the Black family has had its share of... divisions," Narcissa said, her tone controlled but edged with sharpness. "My cousin chose a path that distanced him from our family, but that does not change his heritage. Sirius Black is still a member of one of the oldest and most respected pureblood families in this world."
Her gaze flicked toward Sirius for a moment, but her expression remained as cool as ever. "What we are discussing here today is not just about Sirius's innocence. It is about the Ministry's treatment of a pureblood wizard—one who was denied a trial, denied the right to defend himself, and was unjustly imprisoned for over a decade."
Her words were careful, designed to appeal to the traditionalists within the Wizengamot. She wasn't pleading for justice based on emotion or even the facts of the case—she was appealing to something deeper, something more ingrained in wizarding society: the respect for old, powerful families.
"Sirius Black was accused of crimes he did not commit," Narcissa continued, her voice ringing out with more force now. "He was imprisoned in Azkaban—without trial—on nothing more than circumstantial evidence and hearsay. This is not only a violation of his rights as a wizard, but a stain upon our system of justice."
She turned her gaze toward the pureblood members of the Wizengamot, her tone shifting slightly as she appealed to their sense of tradition. "What does it say about our society when a pureblood wizard—one from a family as ancient and respected as the Blacks—can be thrown into Azkaban without even the pretense of a fair hearing? If it can happen to Sirius Black, what's to stop it from happening to any one of us?"
Hermione watched the members of the Wizengamot closely. Narcissa's words were having an effect. She was playing on their deepest fears—the fear that if the Ministry could treat a Black this way, no one was safe from their overreach.
Narcissa let her words hang in the air for a moment before continuing, her tone more cutting now. "Sirius is not a criminal. He is a man who was wrongfully accused, and he has suffered greatly for it. To keep him in chains any longer is to admit that our system does not value fairness or justice—it values convenience and the preservation of power."
The Wizengamot exchanged uneasy glances, their discomfort evident. Narcissa's argument was cold and logical, and it cut straight through the Ministry's facade of impartiality.
"There is no proof," Narcissa stated bluntly, "that Sirius Black committed the crimes for which he was imprisoned. The real traitor, as we now know, is Peter Pettigrew, who has been in hiding for years. And yet, it is my cousin who has suffered, my cousin who has been vilified by the public and the Ministry alike."
Her gaze hardened as she addressed the Wizengamot directly. "You all know the truth now. You have heard the testimonies. To continue this farce of justice would be a greater crime than the one for which he was falsely accused."
The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the weight of her words.
Narcissa stood there for a moment longer, letting her icy gaze sweep over the room one final time. Then, with the same graceful movements, she stepped down from the stand and returned to her seat. The entire courtroom remained frozen, as though they were still processing the sharp, calculated argument she had just delivered.
Hermione felt her heart racing. Narcissa had appealed not to emotion, not to the kindness or compassion of the court, but to the sense of tradition, logic, and power that these people held dear. She had turned the trial on its head, making it clear that if the Ministry could imprison someone as powerful as Sirius without due process, it could happen to any of them.
Harry leaned over to Hermione, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't expect that."
"Neither did I," Hermione murmured, her eyes still on Narcissa. "But it might have worked."
The atmosphere in the courtroom had shifted dramatically after Narcissa Malfoy's testimony. The pureblood members of the Wizengamot were clearly rattled by her argument, and whispers of unease rippled through the rows of spectators. Cornelius Fudge sat stiffly in his chair, his fingers gripping the parchment in front of him a little too tightly, his calm façade beginning to crack.
"The next witness is… Hermione Granger," Fudge announced, his voice clipped as he glanced down at his notes. He looked as though he had hoped that calling the name of a young witch would bring a measure of normalcy back to the proceedings.
Hermione stood, her movements calm and collected. Her heart raced, but her mind was sharp. This was not a testimony driven by emotion—this was strategy. As she approached the stand, she caught Harry's eye and gave him a small, reassuring nod. Sirius, seated in the center of the room, looked at her with quiet trust, and that bolstered her resolve. This testimony was as much for him as it was for the outcome she intended to create.
She sat down at the witness stand and adjusted her robes, taking a moment to survey the room before beginning. The eyes of the Wizengamot were on her—some skeptical, others curious. She took in the silence that had settled over the room, knowing full well that this moment was hers to control.
"Ms. Granger," Fudge began, his voice losing some of its earlier bluster, "you were present during the events of your third year at Hogwarts, when Sirius Black was believed to be pursuing Harry Potter. You later discovered that Peter Pettigrew was alive, correct?"
"Yes, Minister," Hermione replied smoothly, keeping her tone even and measured. "I was with Harry and Ron when we uncovered the truth. Peter Pettigrew had been living in hiding, disguised as Ron's pet rat for over twelve years."
There was a stir among the courtroom spectators, and even a few of the Wizengamot members exchanged glances. The absurdity of the situation still carried a shock value, but Hermione had anticipated that. She kept her expression calm, giving them no chance to see anything but certainty.
"And you saw this transformation with your own eyes?" Fudge asked, his voice carrying a note of skepticism.
"I did," Hermione confirmed. "We all did. We witnessed Pettigrew transform from a rat back into his human form in the Shrieking Shack at Hogwarts. It was undeniable."
Fudge shifted slightly in his seat, but Hermione wasn't finished. She had anticipated this line of questioning and knew where to take it next. She straightened her posture, locking eyes with Fudge.
"But Minister," Hermione said smoothly, "this isn't the first time we have tried speaking to you about this. You may recall the events from our third year, we tried to tell you and the rest of the Ministry officials about Pettigrew's survival and Sirius Black's innocence."
There was a murmur of surprise from the courtroom, but Hermione pressed on, her voice cool and precise. "We informed you, Minister, but our claims were dismissed without investigation. You chose not to listen to us then, and because of that, Sirius Black continued to suffer for crimes he did not commit."
Fudge's face flushed, his hands gripping the parchment in front of him more tightly. "That's….well, that's not relevant to the current proceedings, Ms. Granger."
"Oh, but I think it's very relevant, Minister," Hermione countered, her voice soft but firm. "This trial isn't just about proving Sirius Black's innocence now. It's about recognizing that the Ministry failed him, repeatedly. Not only was he imprisoned without a trial, but when we tried to present evidence over a year ago that could have freed him, it was ignored. If the Ministry had acted then, we wouldn't be here today."
The weight of her words hung in the air. Hermione could see the members of the Wizengamot shifting uncomfortably in their seats, the reality of the Ministry's negligence hitting home.
"Perhaps," Hermione continued, her voice gaining strength, "if the Ministry had been more concerned with seeking the truth instead of protecting its own reputation, Sirius Black would not have been forced to live on the run, hunted and vilified. The Ministry had every opportunity to make this right and chose not to."
Fudge looked as though he wanted to protest, but Hermione didn't give him the chance.
"And now," she said, her voice cool and calculating, "we are here once again, trying to undo the damage that has been done. But let's be clear, releasing Sirius is not enough. He has spent twelve years in Azkaban without a trial, and two more in hiding because of the Ministry's failure to act on the evidence we provided."
There was a collective intake of breath as Hermione's words sunk in. She had shifted the conversation from Sirius's guilt or innocence to the Ministry's accountability.
"And that failure," Hermione continued, her tone sharp but calm, "comes with a cost. The Ministry must recognize the enormity of its mistakes. The injustice done to Sirius Black cannot simply be erased by freeing him now. He is owed restitution—restitution for the years he spent in Azkaban, for the damage to his name, and for the life that was taken from him."
The word restitution seemed to echo in the air, and Hermione watched as the Wizengamot members exchanged uneasy looks. She had planted the idea now—it wasn't just about Sirius's freedom. It was about compensation, accountability, and responsibility. The Ministry couldn't ignore that.
Fudge's face flushed an even deeper shade of red. "Restitution? Ms. Granger, we are here to determine whether Sirius Black is innocent or guilty, not to discuss—"
"We are here to discuss justice, Minister," Hermione interrupted, her voice smooth and controlled. "And justice for Sirius Black means more than just setting him free. Justice means making amends for the years stolen from him, for the wrongful imprisonment, for the loss of his reputation and his future."
Fudge opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione continued, her gaze steady. "Let me remind you, Minister, that we came to you two years ago with the truth. We told you that Sirius Black was innocent, and you ignored us. You had the chance to correct this mistake then, and you chose not to."
The Wizengamot members were now fully engaged, their expressions ranging from shock to contemplation. Hermione had taken control of the narrative, turning the focus on the Ministry's failures while carefully pushing for Sirius's freedom and the restitution he deserved.
"If the Ministry truly seeks justice," Hermione said, her voice softening but remaining firm, "it must be willing to admit when it has been wrong. And it must be willing to make things right. Simply releasing Sirius Black is not enough. The Ministry owes him more than that. It owes him compensation for the years he lost, for the suffering he endured, and for the damage done to his name."
There was a heavy silence in the room. Even Fudge seemed at a loss for words. Hermione had not only turned the conversation toward the Ministry's failures, but she had also subtly implied that Sirius's freedom was inevitable. The question wasn't if Sirius would be freed, but what the Ministry would do after to make amends.
"You may step down," Fudge finally muttered, clearly eager to move on, though his voice had lost much of its earlier confidence.
Hermione stood and returned to her seat beside Harry. She caught his eye briefly, and for a moment, there was a flicker of understanding between them. Harry had always known Hermione was brilliant, but today, he saw another side of her. She had taken control of the courtroom without raising her voice, without showing her hand. She had subtly pushed the Ministry into a corner, and they didn't even realize it.
"Next witness, Albus Dumbledore," Fudge called, still trying to regain his composure as Dumbledore approached the stand.
The room fell silent as Dumbledore, ever the calm and authoritative figure, took his place. The Wizengamot straightened in their seats, their eyes fixed on him. His presence commanded respect, and for a moment, the tension in the room eased.
"Professor Dumbledore," Fudge began, his voice a little steadier now, "you were present when Sirius Black was accused of betraying the Potters and aiding in Peter Pettigrew's supposed death."
"I was," Dumbledore replied, his voice calm and steady. "And I have known for some time that Sirius Black was wrongfully imprisoned."
There were murmurs of surprise throughout the courtroom, but Dumbledore pressed on, unperturbed.
"The evidence we have heard today is clear," Dumbledore said, his voice growing more firm. "Peter Pettigrew is alive and in hiding, and Sirius Black was framed for the crimes Pettigrew committed. I have known Sirius Black since he was a boy. He is no Death Eater, and he did not betray James and Lily Potter."
Dumbledore's testimony was calm, authoritative, and left no room for doubt. He spoke of the trust James and Lily had placed in Sirius, and how that trust had been betrayed—not by Sirius, but by Pettigrew.
Fudge shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable, but he could do little to counter Dumbledore's words. Dumbledore had a way of making even the most stubborn wizards listen, and the members of the Wizengamot were no exception.
When Dumbledore finished, Fudge gave a small nod. "Thank you, Professor. You may step down."
But before Dumbledore could leave, Fudge called for the final witness, his voice sounding a little too forced, a little too eager to move on.
"Our final witness... Harry Potter."
The room seemed to hold its breath as Harry stood. He walked toward the stand with a quiet determination, though Hermione could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly. He had been through so much—this was his chance to be heard, to make sure Sirius got the justice he deserved.
Harry locked eyes with Cornelius Fudge, who sat behind the elevated desk of the Wizengamot, rifling through his notes. Fudge looked up, his expression neutral but tense, as though he were preparing for a difficult conversation.
Cornelius Fudge cleared his throat from behind the Wizengamot's desk, glancing down at the parchment in front of him. His face was neutral, but Harry could see the discomfort lurking just below the surface. The Minister was trying to keep control, but Harry could tell he was feeling the weight of this trial.
"Mr. Potter," Fudge began, his voice formal but steady, "you're here today to testify on behalf of Sirius Black. Please, for the record, explain how you know that Mr. Black is innocent of the crimes for which he was imprisoned."
Harry nodded, keeping his voice even. "Sirius didn't betray my parents. Peter Pettigrew did. He was the one who handed them over to You-Know-Who."
There were no shocked reactions in the courtroom—they had already heard this before—but Harry pressed on. "Pettigrew faked his death and hid for years as Ron Weasley's pet rat. We—me, Hermione, and Ron—found out the truth during our third year at Hogwarts. We confronted Pettigrew, and he transformed back into his human form right in front of us."
Fudge looked up from his notes, his expression neutral but his tone skeptical. "And you claim you saw this transformation yourself?"
"Yes," Harry replied. "I saw it with my own eyes. Pettigrew transformed from a rat back into a human in front of me, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, and Professor Lupin."
The members of the Wizengamot didn't react much. They had heard this testimony already, and Harry could sense their impatience. But Fudge seemed determined to follow his scripted questions.
"And you attempted to bring this information to the Ministry, did you not?" Fudge asked, his quill scribbling across his parchment.
"We did," Harry said, his voice taking on an edge of frustration. "We tried to tell the Ministry at the end of our third year. We brought you the truth, but you didn't believe us. You ignored it."
Fudge's face tightened slightly, but his voice remained controlled. "The Ministry can only act on the information it has at the time, Mr. Potter."
Harry's grip tightened on the edge of the witness stand. His frustration was building, but he forced himself to stay calm. "You had the information. You chose not to listen. If you had, you could've freed Sirius two years ago."
Fudge waved his hand dismissively. "Let's move forward, Mr. Potter."
There was a pause as Fudge looked down at his notes again, and Harry braced himself. He could feel something brewing beneath the surface.
"You have quite a connection to Mr. Black, don't you?" Fudge asked, his tone a little too casual. "He's your godfather. How long have you known him?"
"I met Sirius when I was thirteen," Harry replied carefully. "That's when I found out he was my godfather."
"And since that time, you've grown close," Fudge continued, his voice probing. "He means a great deal to you, doesn't he?"
Harry frowned, feeling the shift in Fudge's tone. "Yeah. He's the closest thing I've got to family."
Fudge gave a small nod, then leaned forward slightly, his expression changing to something more insidious. "And given everything you've been through—losing your parents, living with Muggles—do you think it's possible that your emotions might be clouding your judgment? That perhaps you want Sirius Black to be innocent because you need him to be?"
Harry's blood ran cold. He stared at Fudge, the weight of the insinuation hitting him hard. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as the anger inside him began to simmer.
"I'm not making this up," Harry said, his voice sharp. "I know he's innocent. I saw Pettigrew with my own eyes. This isn't about what I want—it's about the truth."
Fudge, still scribbling on his parchment, glanced up. "You were raised by Muggles, weren't you, Mr. Potter?"
Harry felt his stomach tighten. He wasn't sure where this was going, but he gave a cautious nod. "Yes, I was."
Fudge's voice remained deceptively casual, his tone almost too soft. "Your aunt and uncle, I believe?"
Harry's hands tightened on the arms of the chair, but he kept his voice steady. "Yes, the Dursleys."
Fudge leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing with interest. "And how was it, living with Muggles? They don't exactly... understand our world, do they?"
Harry's jaw clenched. He hated talking about the Dursleys, hated even more the suggestion that his upbringing was somehow relevant to this trial. But he forced himself to answer. "No, they don't understand it."
Fudge pressed on, not noticing—or not caring—how uncomfortable Harry was becoming. "I imagine it must have been difficult for a boy like you, growing up in a Muggle household. Especially after everything you've been through... losing your parents, being thrust into this world without them."
Harry felt the anger stirring in his chest. He could sense where Fudge was leading him, and it was the last place he wanted to go. "It was hard," Harry admitted, his voice clipped. "But I don't see what that has to do with this trial."
Fudge gave a small, almost patronizing smile. "I'm simply trying to understand your background, Mr. Potter. You've faced so much at such a young age. It's understandable that you might feel... drawn to someone like Sirius Black, given your circumstances."
Harry blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
Fudge's eyes gleamed with something Harry didn't like. "Well, considering you didn't have a family growing up, it's only natural that you might form... attachments. You might see Mr. Black as a father figure, someone to cling to."
The insinuation hit Harry like a slap to the face. He stared at Fudge, feeling his anger bubble to the surface. "What are you trying to say?" he demanded, his voice sharp.
Fudge gave a shrug, pretending to be nonchalant. "I'm merely suggesting that perhaps your... emotions might be clouding your judgment. You've been through so much, Mr. Potter. It wouldn't be surprising if you've convinced yourself that Sirius Black is innocent because you need him to be."
The courtroom was suddenly quiet, the tension thick in the air. Harry could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, his vision narrowing on Fudge as his words sunk in.
"Convinced myself?" Harry repeated, his voice dangerously low. "You think I'm imagining this?"
Fudge shifted in his seat, clearly sensing that he had hit a nerve, but he pressed on regardless. "You were raised by Muggles, after all. People who couldn't possibly understand what you've been through. I imagine it must have been a very lonely childhood."
Harry felt a cold rage building in his chest, his hands gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He could feel the words rising inside him, threatening to spill out, but he tried to hold them back. This wasn't about him. This was about Sirius.
But then Fudge said it.
"Living with Muggles, people who didn't care for you as your parents would have... It must have been quite a shock, discovering the truth about who you really are. Perhaps that's why you're so eager to believe that Mr. Black is innocent. You're looking for a family where there isn't one."
The words hit Harry like a hammer, shattering the fragile control he had been clinging to. His heart raced, his chest tight with fury.
"That's enough," Harry snapped, his voice shaking with barely contained anger. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Fudge blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in Harry's tone, but before he could respond, Harry's voice rose, raw and filled with emotion.
"You think because I was raised by Muggles, I don't know what's real?" Harry spat, his hands trembling. "You think I don't know what it means to be part of a family because I didn't have one? You think that means I'm making all of this up?"
The courtroom fell deathly silent, all eyes on Harry as his voice grew louder, the dam inside him finally breaking.
"You don't know anything about my childhood," Harry continued, his voice shaking with anger. "You don't know what it was like living with the Dursleys. They hated me. They treated me like I was nothing. They locked me in a cupboard under the stairs for ten years! I was starving half the time, wearing their son's old clothes, and being told every day that I was a freak and that I didn't deserve anything better!"
Gasps erupted from the courtroom, and several members of the Wizengamot exchanged shocked glances. Fudge's face had gone pale, but Harry wasn't done.
"They never cared about me. They didn't care if I lived or died," Harry continued, his voice cracking with the weight of years of pent-up pain. "I didn't know what it was like to have someone look after me until I met Sirius."
Harry's chest was heaving now, the anger and hurt pouring out of him. He turned his gaze toward Dumbledore, who had been watching silently from the back of the room. Harry's eyes burned with betrayal.
"And you," Harry said, his voice now directed at Dumbledore, "you knew! You knew what they were like! You left me with them because you thought it was 'for the greater good.'"
Dumbledore's face, normally calm and composed, faltered slightly. He looked at Harry with a mixture of regret and sorrow, but he said nothing.
"You knew they were abusing me," Harry continued, his voice rising. "And you left me there anyway. All those years, you let them treat me like dirt because it suited your plan. Because you thought I needed to be kept in the dark, kept weak."
The room was completely silent now, the weight of Harry's words pressing down on everyone present. The tension was suffocating, the air thick with the unspoken emotions hanging between Harry and Dumbledore.
Harry turned his gaze back to Fudge, his voice trembling but fierce. "Sirius the only family I have, and you're trying to take him away from me, just like you took everything else."
Fudge's face was ashen, his hands shaking as he fumbled with his notes. "Mr. Potter, that's enough—"
"No, it's not enough!" Harry shouted, his voice cracking. "Sirius spent twelve years in Azkaban for something he didn't do, and you've done nothing but ignore the truth because it's easier for you to keep pretending like everything's fine. You don't care about justice. You only care about protecting yourselves."
The courtroom was frozen in stunned silence. Harry's words hung in the air like a storm, crackling with the force of his anger and pain. Fudge sat back, clearly rattled, his composure shattered.
"Sirius is innocent," Harry said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. "And I won't let you take him away from me. Not again."
Fudge, visibly shaken, cleared his throat, his voice weak. "Th-that will be all, Mr. Potter."
Harry stood slowly, his chest still heaving with the effort of holding back the rest of his rage. He glanced at Sirius, who gave him a small, grateful nod, before making his way back to his seat beside Hermione. She reached out and squeezed his arm, her expression one of quiet understanding, but Harry didn't look at her.
The courtroom was still, the tension thick and heavy. No one spoke. No one dared to.
The air in the courtroom was thick with tension, each second feeling like an eternity as the Wizengamot sat in hushed deliberation. All eyes were fixed on Madame Bones, who stood at the center, her face impassive as she prepared to deliver the final verdict. Harry's heart pounded in his chest. His entire world seemed to hang on the next few words.
Beside him, Hermione sat perfectly composed, though her mind raced. Everything they had fought for—the testimony, the carefully laid plan, Harry's emotional outburst—it had all led to this moment. There was nothing more to do now but wait.
Madame Bones raised her hand for silence, and the room fell into an expectant hush. Every eye was on her.
"After thorough review of the evidence and testimonies provided," Madame Bones began, her voice echoing across the chamber, "the Wizengamot has reached a unanimous decision."
Harry held his breath, barely able to process what was happening. Beside him, Hermione's eyes were fixed on Madame Bones, calm but focused. Every word felt like it hung suspended in the air, stretching time.
"The Wizengamot finds Sirius Black innocent of all charges regarding the betrayal of James and Lily Potter, and the murder of Peter Pettigrew."
The words hit Harry like a wave of relief, his breath catching in his throat. He heard the gasps and murmurs from the crowd, but he didn't care. Sirius was free. The nightmare was over.
Madame Bones continued, her voice steady. "The Ministry also acknowledges that Mr. Black has suffered a grave miscarriage of justice. He is to be released immediately, and formal proceedings for restitution will follow."
With a flick of her wand, the chains binding Sirius vanished, clattering uselessly to the floor. For the first time in twelve years, Sirius was free. He stood slowly, his hands shaking, his eyes wide with disbelief. It was real. He was no longer a prisoner.
Harry surged to his feet, rushing to Sirius's side. "Sirius!" he called, his voice thick with emotion.
Sirius turned to him, his expression still stunned, but when he saw Harry, a wide, shaky grin spread across his face. His eyes shone with tears as he pulled Harry into a tight embrace, holding him as though he would never let go.
"You did it," Sirius whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "You did it, Harry."
Harry hugged him tighter, his heart soaring. "No... we did it."
Behind them, Remus Lupin approached, his own eyes brimming with tears. "Welcome back, Padfoot," he said softly, pulling Sirius into a brief, warm embrace.
But as Sirius turned, his gaze fell on Hermione, standing quietly at the edge of the scene. Something in Sirius's expression shifted then, deepened. He released Harry and took a step toward her, his eyes filled with a profound, almost reverent gratitude.
"Hermione," Sirius whispered, his voice raw, his breath shaky. "I... I owe you everything."
Hermione shook her head, trying to deflect the praise. "No, Sirius. You don't owe me anything. We were just trying to make things right."
But Sirius wasn't satisfied with that. His overwhelming sense of gratitude, of relief, of finally being free, all seemed to collide in that moment. He fell to his knees before her, taking her hands in his, his voice trembling with sincerity.
"No," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You gave me my life back. I can never repay you, but I will swear to you on the honor of the Noble House of Black. From this day forward, you are under my protection. You have my loyalty, my life."
The courtroom fell silent again, the weight of Sirius's words hanging in the air. Even Harry, who had expected gratitude from Sirius, hadn't anticipated this. He stared at Sirius, then at Hermione, unsure what to say.
Hermione stood frozen, shocked by the gesture. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of the sudden shift. Sirius was kneeling before her, swearing her into his protection in the old pureblood way, the way ancient families honored those who had saved them. The formal recognition, the gravity of it, hit her like a jolt.
Her cheeks flushed, and she tried to pull her hands from his, her voice soft but firm. "Sirius, you don't have to do this. You don't owe me anything."
But Sirius only tightened his grip on her hands, looking up at her with an intensity that made her breath catch. "I do. You didn't just free me. You believed in me when the world didn't. You gave me back my life, and I will protect yours with mine."
Hermione felt a strange warmth rising in her chest, but she didn't allow herself to acknowledge it. She wasn't thinking about power or control—she was thinking about Sirius, about his suffering, and about how much this moment meant to him.
"Sirius, please," she said softly, trying to hide her discomfort. "I just wanted to help."
Sirius shook his head, his voice breaking slightly. "You did more than that. You saved me. I swear to you, on my name, on my family's honor, that I will stand by you—always."
Tears shone in his eyes as he finally rose to his feet, his hands still gripping hers for a moment longer before he let go. There was a flicker of something deep and grateful in his gaze, something Hermione hadn't expected to see. She gave him a soft, reassuring smile, trying to mask the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her.
Harry, who had been standing nearby, stepped forward, his voice full of awe. "Hermione... that was incredible. You... you really saved him."
Hermione offered him a gentle smile, her heart warming at his words. "We saved him, Harry. We all did."
But deep down, Hermione could feel a different kind of satisfaction. She had orchestrated this—every step, every move had been carefully calculated. And while she didn't think of it in terms of control, there was a quiet triumph in knowing that she had brought them to this moment.
Remus stepped forward, his expression soft as he looked between Sirius, Harry, and Hermione. "You gave us all back something today, Hermione," he said quietly. "You gave us hope. And you gave Sirius a future."
Hermione's smile widened, though she kept her voice calm and humble. "I just wanted to do what was right."
The courtroom was still alive with murmurs as the reporters descended upon the scene, quills scratching frantically as they captured every word, every gesture. But Hermione remained composed, standing at the edge of the moment, watching as Sirius embraced his freedom.
For now, that was enough. She didn't think about the power she held in this moment, or how the tide had shifted in her favor. She didn't recognize the subtle shift in her own heart, the way she had begun to see the world in terms of what could be controlled, shaped.
All she knew was that she had freed Sirius. That was her victory today. And that was enough.
