Last-chapter recap: Upon learning of Pettigrew's escape, Sirius suffered a depressive crash that Remus helped him pull himself out of. Elsewhere in the castle, the Harrys caught up with Ron and Hermione and introduced their new Light World friends, Link and Avoka. After the talk, Ron and Hermione began coming up with a plan to address the lake monsters preventing water travel to and from the island that Hogwarts is perched on.

Content warning for mentions of past death.

Sirius snapped awake to the sound of his cell unlocking. He shot up, mentally bracing himself for the joy-sucking chill of the prison guards—

He blinked at the sight of Remus walking in. A dream? No, this was too bright, too hopeful. He didn't have dreams like this.

This was real. He took a shuddering breath as the realization crashed over him yet again. He was free, even behind these bars. He was in Hogwarts, his friend trusted him again, and today he was going to prove his innocence. It sounded like the impossible, but Albus and Minerva were entering his cell with a Pensieve hovering after them.

Sirius wrapped his blanket around him, not cold but anxious. This was his trial. The one he'd never gotten, the one he'd dreamed for! He'd waited twelve years for this! But what if his memories weren't as clear as he thought? Now he was self-aware enough to know that there were times when irrationality overtook him. Thought often seemed like objective reality, and he couldn't tell the difference until Remus pointed it out. Could that have affected his memories? He'd held onto those precious recollections to help him maintain his sanity during his long imprisonment; the prospect of his lifeline having become twisted and gnarled by his desperate clinging scared him more deeply than any Dementor could.

A hand squeezed his shoulder. "Sirius?" Remus said gently. "I've called your name a few times now. Are you hearing me?"

Sirius nodded numbly. "Got distracted, sorry," he said with a sheepish smile. Way to show his sanity in front of the people who'd be judging the validity of his memories! He scrambled to stand up, shucking his blanket onto the floor. "What do I need to do for this?"

Albus gestured for the Pensieve to float before Sirius. "I would ask for you to draw upon all of your recollections regarding Peter Pettigrew's betrayal. Anything you believe pertinent, even if it occurred months before the crime you were convicted for," he said solemnly. "I will not force you to show me anything you aren't comfortable having witnessed by others' eyes, but any detail you can provide will assist in our judgment."

"Absolutely, Professor," Sirius said with desperate enthusiasm. "I've been holding onto those memories just in case—just for something like this. I can prove it was him!"

He felt like he was back in Azkaban again, but this time in a good way. All of his mental options sharpened to one point, one purpose. If he couldn't kill Pettigrew, he would get revenge in the one way he still could: make sure that no one ever made the mistake of trusting that bastard again. There would be no repeats of what had happened to the Potters if Sirius could help it. That was the closest to vengeance that he'd be able to achieve.

The grounding sound of Remus's voice filtered into his ears. "Sirius, are you certain you're ready for this?" his friend was asking. "You seem a bit—"

"Are you kidding?" Sirius whirled around and seized him by the shoulders. "This is the best day of my life!" He turned back toward Albus and Minerva. "Somebody give me a wand so I can get these memories out," he said, almost breathless with excitement. "I already know all the ones you'll want to see. They're all," he drummed his fingers against his temple, "right here!"

Sirius had played them over and over in his head while in prison, day in and day out. Every waking minute he hadn't spent as a dog, he'd defended his sanity against the Dementors' misery by reminding himself over and over that he didn't do it. Those vital recollections surged to the forefront of his mind with ease, despite him having neglected them during his time taking care of his students in the Lost Woods. In the last twelve years, they'd become so closely entwined with his sense of self that they would never be able to slip away.

Remus gripped his hand. Sirius looked over to see the man giving him a concerned frown. How could he be worried at a happy time like this? Sirius was going to avenge James and Lily! He'd strike back at the rat that had ruined everything!

Then he noticed the tremors shaking his hands, the sound of blood pounding in his ears, and the perspiration that had formed on his brow despite the cool air. He'd gotten too caught up in his excitement; his sense of reality had started derailing again without him knowing it. That was what happened now when his emotions got too big. He'd become one-track minded and feverish with feeling, unable to properly register anything outside his own head until something (Kajiwara's sharp voice or Remus's soft reminders) made him realize he'd lost his grip. Being semi-rehabilitated by his little cousin had given him the lucidity to realize he had this instability, but not enough to make it stop.

Sirius closed his eyes and took several slow breaths. This wasn't helping his case, dammit! "Sorry," he told the puzzled professors standing on the other side of the Pensieve. "I was able to recover somewhat from the effects of my imprisonment while cursed into my Animagus form, but certain things will take a while longer to heal from. I'm sane, I assure you." He suppressed a wince. It was never a good sign when one felt the need to make such a declaration "Please, let's continue."

Remus pressed the handle of his wand into Sirius's palm. "Try not to cause any trouble with it," he said with an attempt at a smile.

Sirius gave him an equally nervous smirk "No promises, Moony," he said, raising the wand to his temple. He carefully exhaled, turning his focus inward.

He replayed the memories that had sustained him for twelve years like it was just another day in Azkaban. The building, misplaced suspicion he'd had toward Remus, a poison formed from wartime paranoia and subtle remarks on Pettigrew's part. The oh-so-clever switcheroo he'd pulled, putting the lives of the Potter family in the hands of a back-stabbing Death Eater. What a fool he'd been!

Halloween night of nineteen eighty-one. Pettigrew had gone missing, and a pit of worry had dropped in Sirius's gut. He'd gone straight to Godric's Hollow, because a Secret-Keeper disappearing was never a good sign.

The house had been—

His friends had been—

Sirius had arrived too late. He couldn't think about those details too hard, lest he lose himself within them. Following the sound of crying, he'd lifted tiny, helpless, orphaned Harry out of his crib and…and let himself be convinced to let that baby boy go. "Dumbledore's orders," Hagrid had said. Poor Harry, ripped from his parents' loving arms and dumped into the cold, sterile home of those heartless Muggles!

Anger boiled in his chest. He let out a growl. Sure, Albus was giving him a chance at freedom, but the man had also condemned Harry to living with the Dursleys. Sirius had seen enough last summer to know that those people oughtn't be trusted with anyone's welfare—not even that of their son, the violent little mountain troll. Harry's life with them must have been hell, going by those weeks of observation. Albus had trusted in blood before family, like too many witches and wizards did. Anyone who had really known and cared about Harry would have—

Remus gave his shoulder a squeeze. Sirius chewed on the inside of his cheek, using the sting to focus on his thoughts rather than his feelings. This wasn't prison. This was his trial, and he didn't have time to wander into the weeds right now. No matter what mistakes his current judge had committed, Sirius still needed to pass this test in order to move forward.

What had come next? Ah, confronting Pettigrew. Sirius's upper lip curled, but he didn't allow his mind to fly off into vindictive fantasies of blowing the traitor to pieces. He needed cold, hard evidence here. Objectivity had always been a difficult concept for him to grasp.

Sirius breathed hard, grappling with the memories of his former friend running through the steps of his frame-up before destroying that street and every Muggle on it. Blood and limbs everywhere—

He drove his nails into his palms as hard as he could. Emotions weren't evidence. He needed to stay on track. Once he'd drawn up what Albus needed, then he could weep over the horror of it all for the thousandth time.

His sentencing had come next. It hadn't been a trial, just a statement of what he was accused of, followed by a conviction and being dragged off to prison. The one who'd sentenced him had been Barty Crouch, so certain that any member of the Black family must be a Death Eater that he hadn't bothered to actually check that assumption. He'd wanted Sirius out of his sight as fast as possible, and being so emotionally wrecked at the time, Sirius had slid along that greased slope to Azkaban in a stupor. Would it have turned out better or worse if Sirius had possessed the presence of mind to demand a court hearing by the Council of Magical Law?

Sirius opened his eyes, reached out with Remus's wand, and dropped a veritable fountain of memories into the liquid mist of the Pensieve. "If you'd like to get back to me about your verdict in a few business days, I won't blame you," he said, his voice shakier than he would have liked. He swept his long hair back from his face with an airy flick of his hand, trying to affect confidence with an old mannerism he'd thought he'd lost in prison. "There's a lot to review."

"You should have your verdict by tomorrow," Remus assured him, giving his fellow professors a pointed look. "It would be cruel of us to delay judgment for any longer than that."

"I concur, Remus," Minerva said. "Regardless of the outcome, I would say that twelve years of waiting is more than enough."

"We will deliberate with all speed, but not the haste with which you were originally convicted," Albus said, a look of sadness in his old, tired eyes.

"Erm, quick question, though," Sirius said as the professors turned to leave. Anxiety flipped in his stomach. "In the unlikely event that you still find me guilty after reviewing my memories, what would happen then?"

Because he had to know. If a repeat of his sham lack-of-a-trial happened, he needed to have a contingency plan. Lupin wanted him to stay alive, and if Sirius was going to stay alive then a) he could not go back to Azkaban, and b) he needed a mission to keep him from clawing and kicking at his mental walls until he really lost his mind. He could make finding Pettigrew in Hyrule his purpose in life, if he had to. It was an impossible sort of goal, one he felt no small amount of unease about locking his fragile mind into, but it would sustain him. He was good at that kind of thing now.

Remus fixed him with a stern gaze. "Sirius, I know what you're thinking, and no," he warned, a hint of a wolfish growl in his voice.

"I just want to know," Sirius said lightly. He patted Remus on the shoulder and dodged his friend's answering elbow. "It's best to be prepared, is all!" He stared down Albus. "So, what would be the worst-case scenario here?"

Subtle expressions slid across the Headmaster's face. Mostly soft shades of sadness and pity. In Sirius's previous life as a prideful hothead, the pity would have rankled. But now, such an emotion was so novel to him after over a decade of hopelessness and scorn that he couldn't find it within him to mind. Pity was adjacent to sympathy, far better than hatred or apathy.

"Your service toward my students would be taken into account," Albus said. "There hasn't yet been time for us to properly take their testimony, but you have several ardent defenders. They've been champing at the bit to visit you," He smiled with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Should your memories fail to pass muster, I suppose this cell shall become your home until we manage to return to our world," Professor McGonagall informed him more bluntly. "Once back in our world, we will push for a resentencing in light of whatever revelations we make today."

"You could add some of your memories of the Lost Woods," Remus suggested. "As a show of…community service, say. Besides, it would help us understand what happened there if we had a first-person account."

Sirius shrugged. He didn't see why not; his mind had been an open book to the Dementors for so many years that he'd long lost the natural human aversion to others seeing his memories. In fact, he'd double-dog dare any Legilimens to take a peek at the hellscape of emotional acid pits that hid behind his veneer of functionality.

He touched the tip of Lupin's wand back to his temple and thought back on the new memories that brought him a tentative sense of joy. His Ravens. Well, not his. He was prone to thinking like that—possessive, protective, maybe verging on obsessive. Sirius would mean to put a hand on someone's shoulder and wind up appointing himself that person's looming defender instead. Maybe he could talk to Remus about that, or…some other person who had the mental clarity to see where he was going too far with his level of attachment.

Names and faces passed in front of his mind's eye. Kajiwara, whose harsh attitude laid atop a protective nature that rivaled a mother bear's. She would have fought any number of Moblins to keep their Ravens safe, and Sirius respected the hell out of that kid for it. Agarkar, who latched onto new concepts like a Grindylow with a puzzle, eager to reach in and figure out every single component of how it worked. Mira, who had been struggling to maintain her sense of dignity and self-sufficiency in the face of a magical illness that often stole all of her mental filters and impulse control. Luna, whose unconventional way of thinking and spiritual awareness had suddenly gone from alienating to useful. During their stay in Kokiri Court, she'd bloomed from the wallflower quietly vibrating with the urge to speak to anyone who deigned to engage with her to having people who were genuinely willing to listen, and he could tell she was both thrilled and a little nervous about it.

He carefully picked and chose some memories, cutting out anything the kids wouldn't want him showing to anyone else. None of the Lost children's episodes, nor the homesick crying fits that he and the seventh-years had worked to soothe. Just the teamwork and adaptation of those resilient students, the kindness of their forest-dwelling hosts, and maybe a few silly moments in his Potions classes for flavor.

After depositing the memories in the Pensieve, he returned Remus's wand. "So, I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked, keeping a tremor out of his voice. 'I know I didn't do it,' he reminded himself. He hadn't. Albus and Minerva and whoever else was judging him would find him innocent, because how could they not? This wasn't a matter of having hope (which he wasn't sure he could risk just yet), but of certainty. He curled his fingers around the edges of his sleeves to help hold his shaking hands still.

"You will," Albus said with a decisive nod. He put a hand on Sirius's shoulder and smiled warmly. "I look forward to properly welcoming one of my old students back into Hogwarts. For a proper stay, that is."

"Your breakfast should be arriving shortly," Minerva said. "Good day, Mr. Black. I hope our next visit will be a time of celebration."

A voice whispered from the air in front of the bars. "Hey. Erm, could I talk to you?"

Sirius looked up from his lunch, a lump of bread and bowl of chowder from the castle's dwindling stores. "Sure," he said, setting his spoon down. "I'd like to know who I'm speaking to, though."

"Oh, erm, right." There was a visual shift in the air, and then the head of Ron Weasley was hovering in front of his cage. The boy looked anxiously down the hall before raising the Invisibility Cloak over his head again. "Hi, the name's Ron, in case you don't remember much from being Dog," he said in a low, hushed voice. "Sorry for keeping the hood up, but I don't want to get caught. There's four Prefects swooping around over there."

Sirius nodded. Right, because all the teachers were busy deciding his fate. "It's no bother. That cloak was originally my best friend's, so I've had my fair share of half-invisible conversations."

"Right, I forgot you were Harry's godfather," Ron muttered.

"Did Remus tell you that?" Sirius asked. "Odd thing to bring up to a student."

"Zelda told us, actually. The ghost in the Hylian Bestiary, if you remember. She eavesdrops on all kinds of things, apparently," Ron said. "I wanted to talk about something else, though. Erm, about…Peter Pettigrew."

Sirius leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "The traitor that got away," he spat. "What about him?"

There was a scuff of shoes on stone. "I-I wanted to tell you I'm sorry," Ron said. "He was my familiar for over two years. I should've noticed something was off. I mean, how many non-magical rats live long as he did? He was handed down twice!"

Sirius had spent enough time around children recently to recognize the pain and threat of tears in the boy's voice. "Hey, kid," he said softly, getting up from where he'd been sitting. He crouched down closer to the bars, so as approach Ron without looming over him. "Pettigrew managed to fool me and his other friends, remember? We knew him through school and for years after, and we didn't suspect a thing until, well…" He gestured between them—the boy wearing a borrowed cloak that ought to have been passed down in-person by its previous owner, and the Dementor-addled man still wearing threadbare (but clean) prison robes over the basic linen chemise the Deku Scrubs had given him. "You only knew him as a family pet, and I'm sure he would have gone to great lengths to maintain that cushy position. I don't blame you for not realizing something was up."

"I helped him," Ron said brokenly. "And—And he made me care about him! He got sick earlier this year, when we all heard about you breaking out of Azkaban, and I bought him medicine!"

Sirius cast a wary glance down the hall at the kid's volume. No approaching footsteps yet, but being caught by a pack of overzealous Prefects would hardly help Ron's emotional state.

"Trust me, you're not the first person Pettigrew has fooled, nor the last, nor the most severely," Sirius told him. "I wouldn't be surprised if he even pulled one over on You-Know-Who himself to save his own skin. He was always like that; it just took him leading a murderer to my friends' doorstep to make me realize what worthless rodent he was." An ugly sneer twisted his lips. "My one regret is that I'll never—" He meant to continue with "feel his neck break between my teeth", but managed to catch himself before his emotions dragged him off a cliff. "…That I'll never be able to bring him to justice," he finished more tamely. "He deserves to pay for what he's done, after all."

An odd silence hung in the air. Ron, being invisible, had no expression or body-language for Sirius to read, and thus he had no idea why the boy had fallen quiet. Was he afraid of Pettigrew being lost in the wind, maybe? Peter was highly unlikely to have anything to do with Hogwarts or any of its residents ever again, if he could avoid it.

"It's my fault he's free," Ron confessed in a hoarse whisper. His voice shook. "I wasn't able to catch him. I didn't notice him working that brick loose from the wall. That's how he escaped. He used my wand to do it, and I was too much of a dimwit to notice!"

Sirius had already heard the details of Pettigrew's escape from Remus. His friend had known there was a good chance of Sirius vowing to hate him, and yet he'd shouldered the blame for his impulsive actions. Sirius didn't blame Remus for rushing to reveal the rat's deception, which Sirius would have done in his place if he'd had access to a wand, nor did he blame the kid invisibly trembling with misplaced remorse in front of him. He laid all of the fault on that rat—the cowardly, betraying slime.

"I don't place any fault on you, but if you blame yourself, then I forgive you," Sirius said. It was a line borrowed from Remus, something he'd used to say to Lily whenever she tore herself up over a stupid thing that James or Sirius had done. "You were manipulated and taken advantage of, same as me. Except in your case, you didn't wind up getting your best friends killed, orphaning your godson, and winding up locked up in prison for being an impulsive idiot." He hunched his shoulders. They weren't enough for him to hide behind. "Consider yourself lucky."

A silence stretched out between them.

"I'm sorry," Ron said. When Sirius opened his mouth, he quickly amended, "Not just for me being an idiot. I mean, I'm sorry you went through all of this. My dad works at the Ministry, and the way he talks about it…I didn't think stuff like this could happen. Like yeah, maybe the wrong people went to prison sometimes by mistake, but they always got out before anything too bad happened to them. Because mistakes ought to get caught, right? Why else have all those people judge you?"

Sirius laughed bitterly. "I only had one judge, and he told me I was guilty as soon as I sat down," he said. "I hate to admit it to someone as young as you, but adults can make some really bad calls at times. The war made people quick to hate one another and jump to conclusions. Civil wars do that to a populace—they cut it down the middle, make everything 'us or them' to the point that having the wrong family name could be enough cause for an arrest. I didn't help my case, going after Pettigrew without explaining anything to anyone, but I'm sure my pedigree tipped the scales there."

"The Blacks are about on par with the Malfoys and Lestranges," Ron agreed. Sirius could practically hear him scrunch his nose in distaste. "Creepy, blood-worshipping weirdoes. Er, no offense."

Sirius shrugged. "I've been burned off the family tapestry, so it's not like I count as a Black anymore. And most of my cousins are creepy, blood-worshipping weirdoes. I just thought it was a load of bullsh—er, crap, and turned my back on what my parents taught me."

"So, when you were arrested, the judge just told you what they thought you did and sent you to Azkaban over it?" Ron asked. "All because of your family's reputation? What happened there? And, erm…" There was a soft sound of him wringing his hands. "Do you think it could happen again? That it's been happening?"

"You're asking questions that might be a tad over my head," Sirius said with a wry smile. "I wouldn't know the current state of the courts, but the man who convicted me was the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the time, Bartemius Crouch. He was considered a shoe-in for Minister of Magic, but some family drama caused him to lose face in front of the Wizengamot. He's got another position in the Ministry now—something quieter, but I wouldn't know what. You won't have to worry about him locking up anyone else the same as me."

Sirius sat straighter and interlocked his hands in his lap. "Say, why ask about that? Are you worried about going to prison?" He grinned cheekily. "I can tell you from experience that it takes a lot more than schoolboy mischief to wind up getting jail time."

"I guess I've just been thinking more about the world lately. How it works," Ron replied, his voice soft and pensive. "Our world is kinda messed up, isn't it? In ways this one isn't."

"I'm sure every world out there is messed up in its own ways, including this one," Sirius said. "But yeah, you could be onto something, kid."

Sirius spent a pleasant however long chatting in low tones with his godson's best friend. The boy was insecure in a way that reminded Sirius of some of his (not his, he forcibly reminded himself) Ravens, especially the ones who had been berated the worst by Snivellus in class. Ron craved any small scrap of praise, and though he was happy to brag about what he'd done to fight Vaati's dark forces, the boy didn't seem to expect Sirius to be impressed. He was a good kid—fiercely loyal to his best mate, too, which Sirius approved of. From the way Ron spoke about Harry, Sirius didn't doubt his godson had found himself a life-long friend.

"As soon as you get out of here, you've gotta help him," Ron said, his half-visible hands gripping the bars of the cell. "Harry's messed up. His family is messed up. You have to get him away from them. Professor Lupin's working on something, I think, but the Harrys don't trust him. You, though—you're their godfather! That's almost family, isn't it?"

Sirius nodded. "Harry should have gone into my custody after his parents' deaths. James's only living relatives were scattered among the major pureblood families churning out Death Eaters and Lily's sister was…well, Petunia." His lips twisted with scorn as he recalled what he'd seen of that woman's treatment of her nephew over the summer. "The only reason he wound up living with Lily's family was because I got myself locked up, I imagine." Strange, though, that Albus had ordered Hagrid to take custody of the boy almost as soon as Sirius had found him. Sure, Sirius hadn't exactly been in his right mind at the time, but shouldn't he at least have been given a chance to hold onto his godson? It might have stopped him from going on his ill-considered crusade in the first place!

"So, Harry should be able to live with you if you're freed, right?" Ron said hopefully. "My family would take him in a heartbeat, but Harry, er…They seem a little weird about that kind of thing. Guilty, maybe? One of them said something before about taking food from our mouths, which just has to be a line his family taught him to say."

Sirius grimaced. "I'm sure it is," he said. "I watched through the Dursleys' windows over the summer when I was checking on Harry. Those people don't deserve children, if you ask me. They couldn't raise a fish!"

There was a soft gasp from Ron. "I knew the bars over the windows were bad, but I didn't think it was a whole thing." His voice lowered to a whisper. "You don't think it might be a case of—er, what was it?—'magical persecution by Muggle guardian', do you? Like, for real this time?"

From his tone, the boy properly understood the baggage attached to that phrase, a term that had been bandied about often by Death Eaters to justify their prejudices. Some of the less rabid ones, clever enough to dress up their beliefs with socially-acceptable wording, had claimed that young muggleborns and half-bloods ought to be separated from their non-magical parents for their safety. Someone like Lucius Malfoy would say that Muggles were too ignorant to raise magical children without abusing them, you see, and wouldn't those poor kids feel so much safer among their own kind? People like that had used rare cases of mistreatment by Muggles to put forth PR-friendly bigotry in legislative circles, and even managed to get some of it ratified. Muggleborns and half-bloods were far more likely than purebloods to be separated from their parents at the first report of suspected maltreatment, regardless of whether any abuse was actually taking place. Harry was one of the few cases in which that action should have been taken…and then hadn't been, for some strange reason. Hadn't Albus ever checked up on him?

"Unfortunately, yes, I think it might be a real instance of that," Sirius said grimly. "I'll be fighting for Harry if I get out, you can be sure. The questions are whether I'll be acquitted both here and in our world, and whether Harry will work with me."

"Does he have to work with you, if you're supposed to be taking care of him anyway?" Ron asked. "Kids can get passed around for their own good, can't they? That's not quite right, if you ask me, but I think Harry's been taught enough of the wrong things that he's not sure what's best for him when it comes to this."

Sirius blew out a breath and ruffled his long hair. "I'm not sure if you've noticed, Ron, but Harry's fought multiple dragons at this point and won. I don't think anyone can force him to do what he doesn't want to do anymore, whether he realizes it or not. And if that isn't true yet, then it certainly will be by the time the four of them are done with this whole quest." Pointing between them, he said, "You, me, Hermione, and Remus—maybe Draco, even—are going to have to convince them the hard way that there's other options if we're going to get anywhere here. Harry's turned out just as bullheaded as his mum, and convinced of entirely the wrong thing. It was never easy to pull Lily back from anything she believed in."

"Even if that wrong idea of his is only going to make his life way harder?"

"Especially that. Let it never be said that Lily Evans or Harry Potter liked to make things easy for themselves."

A handful of selected staff sat around the meeting table. Remus, Minerva, Albus, Severus, and Filius, chosen either for their objectivity or for their high familiarity with the subject matter, stewed quietly in the aftermath of reviewing Sirius's memories.

Remus did his best not to scowl at Severus across the meeting table. His former classmate was similarly struggling not to sneer at him.

He knew why Severus was here. The Potions Master was Albus's trusted right hand for reasons that Remus had honestly never been able to wrap his head around. Perhaps because Severus was a bit of a success story for the Headmaster, a wayward student who had managed to pull away from the darkness before it consumed him. Never mind that he was still a bigoted arsehole whose personality made him absolutely unsuited for teaching despite his high expertise.

The thing about Severus that rankled right at that moment, however, was that he didn't have even a dram of the objectivity necessary for a trial like this. Severus hated Sirius over an incident that was largely his own fault. If not for the fact that Severus had been snooping around in an effort to get Remus expelled, Sirius wouldn't have been able to steer him into danger. Both were in the wrong, both despised one another over it, and Remus didn't think that animosity would ever fade—not with how stubborn both men were. Magic itself would die before an apology was ever wrung out of either. Severus would do anything he could to lock Sirius back up in prison, and Sirius would have done the same if the circumstances were reversed.

Albus knew that, so why was Severus here?

A hand touched his arm. "Remus, are you growling?" Professor McGonagall asked him in a low voice. "Would this have anything to do with that werewolf problem you've 'solved'?"

Remus cursed in his head and coughed politely out loud. "It might," he evaded. Damn, he still hadn't told anyone here about that, had he? And as easy as it had been to explain to Sirius, or even young Ron and Hermione, laying out the facts for his fellow teachers would be a whole different animal. Some of his colleagues had vehemently protested the appointment of a werewolf to a teaching position, and now that he was permanently a touch wolfish…that wouldn't go over well.

He sent up a silent prayer to whoever was listening. Perhaps even the "goddesses" that the Zoras who hung around the castle would sometimes swear upon. 'Please don't let this trial session turn into the "what's wrong with Remus?" show,' he thought. His best friend's future was at stake here!

Albus called the meeting to order with a clearing of his throat. "The preliminary trial of Sirius Black shall now begin," he declared. "I presume everyone here has sufficiently recovered from witnessing the testimony of the accused?"

There were solemn nods and pale faces all around. Remus dropped his gaze to the table, his previous horror washing back over him.

He hadn't seen the destruction of Godric's Hollow in person. Though he knew of the memorial that had been erected, the idea of visiting it had always renewed the pain of losing two friends in one fell swoop, and then the remaining two soon after. The sound of young Harry's fussing among the creaking of unstable timbers would surely haunt his dreams for nights to come.

The events that had followed had only bolstered his hatred of Pettigrew and introduced a newfound resentment toward Bartemius Crouch. If he ever saw either of those two in person, he could think of more than a few Dark curses he'd like to send their way.

"If I may begin the discussion," Severus said, lifting a hand from the table. "The memories have made it clear that, regardless of who committed the murder of twelve Muggles, Black willingly colluded with Pettigrew. There is irrefutable evidence of that fact."

Remus prided himself on his self-control, but those words drove him to the edge of snapping. He locked one hand around the edge of the table, sinking his nails into the underside. "Sirius made the suggestion to make Pettigrew the Secret-Keeper because, up until that point, Pettigrew had proven himself to be loyal," he snarled. "Lily and James agreed to the switch because Pettigrew was their close friend as well! Will you accuse them of collaborating with their murderer next?"

"Remus, control yourself. This is to be a civilized discussion, not a brawl," Minerva muttered, putting a hand on his arm. Raising her voice, she declared, "Part of Sirius's conviction—the larger part, in fact—was the mass-murder of the Muggles on that street. The evidence that confirms Pettigrew as having committed that act is not to be waved away as 'regardless'. It is, in fact, vital to this discussion."

"I agree with Minerva," said Filius. "Determining the one at fault is the point of conducting a trial! We have confirmation not only of Pettigrew destroying the street and the people on it, but shouting lies to establish the frame-up as well. Black didn't even get to launch an attack before Pettigrew cast that curse!"

"Black comes from a family known for their Dark practices! Who's to say Pettigrew didn't fear for his life?" Severus put forth with a stubborn set to his jaw. "The madman was threatening to—"

"He is not mad!" Remus snapped, only just keeping himself from roaring the words. "Right now, you're defending a confirmed Death Eater, the betrayer of Lily Potter, against an innocent man who did what he thought was best to protect his friends' family." He bore down on the suddenly stricken-looking man with a hard, uncompromising gaze. "Is your grudge worth that much, Severus?"

They stared at one another from across the table, tied in a silent duel of wills. Remus wouldn't back down. He was in the right here and both of them knew it. Stubborn as he was, Severus was an intelligent man. An emotional man, heavily influenced by the many grudges he'd collected over the decades, but someone capable of understanding that this trial went beyond his petty desire for revenge nevertheless.

Severus should have looked away.

Instead, his eyes narrowed and he leaned over the table. "The full moon has recently passed, hasn't it?" he remarked. "Remind me, what was your eye-color again?"

A growl ripped from Remus's throat before he could contain it. That absolute bastard! Suddenly, Severus was the one man he hated more than anyone in the world. How dare he jeopardize this trial for the sake of his stupid ego?

The rest of the staff sat around the table, who had been watching the fracas with wide eyes, collectively jumped at the animal sound that had come from Remus. There was no denying that was a noise no human should have been able to make.

Filius peered closely at him. "Remus, are you alright? While I disagree with Severus's stance regarding this trial, your eyes indeed look a tad…off."

Remus had foregone his sunglasses, making the foolish assumption that people wouldn't notice the shift from brown to honey gold. He looked ridiculous with the combination of mask, hat, and shades on, so he'd sacrificed the accessory that he'd thought would be the least missed. "I am aware, Filius," he said, fighting to keep the irritated rumble out of his voice. "It isn't a pressing issue—or even an issue at all. We can have a meeting over it at a more opportune time."

"Who's to say this trial can't be postponed?" Severus asked, raising his chin. "The safety of our students ought to take precedence over anything else."

Remus slammed his hand down on the table. "Like you give a damn!" he nearly howled. "You just want Sirius to suffer as long as possible, you selfish, puerile—"

"Remus, please be civil," Albus sighed. He wore a look of defeat that signaled that he'd conceded the meeting had already gone all to hell.

"You're asking me to be civil to someone using my blood status to question my ability to teach and prolong the suffering of a man whose innocence we've all just seen proof of!" Remus cried with outrage. "All due respect to you, Headmaster, but if he's going to act like a mud-slinging child, I have the right to call him one!"

The ends of Severus's mouth curled ever so slightly in a hidden smirk. The prick. "I am merely stating facts," he purred.

Albus sighed. His wizened hands, puzzled in front of him on the table, were clenched tightly together. "Please, I would ask that all members of this temporary council treat one another with at least the level of courtesy afforded by your positions as fellow professors."

"You must admit that Severus was out of line, Albus," Minerva said with a frown. To Severus, she admonished, "While I'm sure all of us are wondering how Remus has managed to circumvent his curse, the facts of the situation are that he has managed to keep the students safe for two months now and this trial does not concern his blood status in any way, shape, or form. If you are unable to focus on the matter at hand, then we may call another person who will be able to judge fairly in your place."

"Well said, Minerva," Filius declared. "There are enough problems at hand that the only way we can address them all is to sort by priority. I would say that the man locked up in the dungeons ought to take a higher place on the list than a werewolf with decades of experience in managing his curse." He nodded to Albus. "If we could continue, Headmaster."

Now it was Severus's turn to grip the table to rein his anger in. Remus stooped to throwing him a triumphant look before pointedly turning toward the head of the table. The Potions Master would be sure to get his revenge in some irritating fashion at a later date, but for now, crisis averted.

"Given what we have all witnessed, I believe most of us will be able to agree upon a common conclusion," Albus said. He pushed his chair back and stood. "Nevertheless, in the interest of fair deliberation, I shall list the points of this case and match them to Mr. Black's testimony." He took his Magic Rod from a pocket within his robes and conjured a hovering blackboard and chalk. "Now, let us truly begin."

"Sirius!"

The timbre of the voice, rather than the sound of his name, was what made Sirius jerk awake. "Remus?" He rubbed his eyes and sat up. The air was cooler than when he'd dropped off to sleep, meaning it must have been sometime in the evening or night. "D'jou come wi' dinner?" he mumbled before yawning. He ought to have taken his nap as a dog, in hindsight. When he took shorter rests as a human, they always left him feeling more tired.

"I did," Remus said, raising a tray bearing a soup bowl and a teacup. He slid the tray through Sirius's meal slot and then knelt before the bars. "I didn't just bring that, though!" The man's golden eyes sparkled with the kind of vigor Sirius hadn't seen from him since their school days.

Sirius stared at Remus, his groggy mind trying to come up with a reason for his normally exhausted friend's exuberance. "Did you get one of those sweet Hylian apples, too?" he guessed.

Remus laughed. "I do have one on hand, actually." He took an apple out of his pocket and tossed the treat through the bars to Sirius. "But my reason to be here is," Remus took a breath, looking as though he'd be wildly wagging his tail if he possessed one, "you're innocent. Officially. Albus will have to submit his judgment and all the trial materials to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for finalization, but as far as anyone but Severus is concerned, Peter Pettigrew is a wanted man and you ought to be owed reparations for wrongful imprisonment."

For a moment, Sirius thought he might have forgotten how to understand English. He stared at the apple in his hand, his mind blank with incomprehension.

Innocent. He was innocent. Always had been. But now…others had deemed him innocent? In real life, not one of those desperate dreams the Dementors had drained out of him years ago? This was real? He'd known it was a possibility—a very likely possibility, with how preciously as he'd hoarded those memories—and yet this felt like a hallucination.

Sirius shifted his grip on the apple, just to check. It was smooth. Solid. Real.

Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. "They said I'm innocent?" he whispered. "This isn't a dream?"

Remus unlocked the door, almost tumbling into the cell in his haste, and dashed over to wrap his arms around Sirius. "Their pronouncement is as real as I am." He held Sirius up as the latter melted into him, dissolving into sobs. "Starting tomorrow, once you get the announcement from the Headmaster, you'll be staying with me in my quarters. Both so I can keep an eye on you, and because Albus agrees having someone to help you reconnect to the outside would be good for you."

Burying his face in Remus's shoulder, Sirius lost himself to the maelstrom of emotion that had been unleashed by the simple, weighty phrase he'd long lost any hope of hearing from another person: "you're innocent."

Notes:

-Sirius is a bit out-of-the-loop when it comes to the state of his family. He has no idea he's the sole Black heir, since his mother died while he was in prison and he isn't caught up with the news.

-You might notice that whenever I bring up the Dursleys' child-rearing skills, I also disparage the way they've raised Dudley. That's because, even though I don't think they were intentionally abusive toward their son whatsovever, I do think he's been poorly socialized and taught great unkindness from a young age in a way similar to Draco.

-The Harrys, at this point, are basically Lockhart if the guy had actually done what he'd claimed to in his books. Their knowledge of spells is limited due to Harry's current level of education, but they have a much greater ability than the average adult wizard to buckle down and accomplish whatever they need to do, no matter how impossible that task may seem. Once the Tri-Wizard Tournament comes around, Harry will have to be reminded not to be too hard on that poor Hungarian Horntail!

Next month: Ron and Hermione seek out the source of the lake's Skullfish infestation!