Chapter Text
For several long moments after Dumbledore returned to his seat, silence held the Hall of Nations, and it was a different silence from the one that had greeted the beginning of the proceedings. When the representatives of the magical world had first taken their places that morning, the chamber had been alive with curiosity.
They had crossed oceans and continents to witness an event without precedent in living memory, summoned by an Addams to examine allegations against one of Europe's oldest and most influential magical governments. There had been excitement beneath the apprehension then, the unmistakable fascination of people who knew they were about to witness history.
Now, much of that fascination had disappeared and in its place was suspicion and disgust that a Lord of an Ancient and Noble House had been treated with such dishonor...
Dumbledore could feel it surrounding the British delegation as he lowered himself heavily into his chair. Hundreds of representatives were looking toward them now, no longer merely curious about what had happened to Sirius Black, but beginning to wonder what sort of government could allow such a thing to happen without anyone noticing—or, perhaps worse, without anyone caring enough to stop it!
For most of his long life, Dumbledore had been accustomed to people looking toward him when difficult questions needed answering, but today, his inability to provide those answers had become an answer of its own…
For several tense moments, the acting Supreme Mugwump allowed the silence to linger before turning toward the ancient Addams throne.
"Lord Addams, you have established before this assembly that Sirius Orion Black was imprisoned without trial and that Peter Pettigrew, the man he was accused of murdering, remains alive."
"Quite stubbornly," Gomez replied as a cruel smile spread across his face that sent a tremor of fear through more than one listener.
"The Confederation must therefore establish the circumstances surrounding Mr. Black's arrest, his imprisonment, and his treatment while in the custody of Magical Britain." The acting Supreme Mugwump continued after a moment as the humor disappeared from Gomez's expression.
"So it must…" Gomez acknowledged after a moment as he slowly took a drag from his cigar.
A moment later, with a solemn nod, the Supreme Mugwump turned toward the great doors at the rear of the Hall.
"Then this Confederation calls Sirius Orion Black…"
The effect of the name upon the chamber was immediate; Fudge stiffened beside Dumbledore, while Amelia Bones straightened in her seat as the quiet whispering that had begun to return to the galleries faded away, and even Fester ceased whatever conversation he had been having with Grandmama. Upon the raised Addams platform, Morticia reached across the space separating her chair from her husband's throne and rested her hand in his; a second later, Gomez's fingers closed around hers as his eyes narrowed slightly through the cigar smoke.
A second later, the Supreme Mugwump raised his staff, and the ancient locks securing the Hall began to withdraw as a sound echoed through the chamber as one lock after another released, until at last the enormous doors slowly swung inward, showing Sirius Black standing beyond them, expectantly.
Dumbledore had thought himself prepared…
He had seen the photographs published after Sirius's escape. He had seen the wanted posters and newspaper images. He had even caught brief glimpses of the man since his rescue from Azkaban as he sat on the front porch of the Addams manor, but none of them had prepared him for seeing Sirius standing before him now…
He was twenty-seven years old…
The thought struck Dumbledore with almost physical force. Twenty-seven. Sirius should still have been a young man. Had the war ended differently, Sirius and James might all have been sitting together somewhere at that very moment, complaining about work or laughing over some foolish memory from Hogwarts. James would undoubtedly have been trying to convince Harry that seven was more than old enough for his first proper broomstick while Lily threatened to hex him for even suggesting it. Sirius would have encouraged the entire thing, if only because annoying Lily had once been among his favorite hobbies.
Instead, James and Lily had been in the ground for six years, and Sirius had spent those same six years among the Dementors…
The weeks since his escape had restored some of what Azkaban had taken from him; he was no longer the skeletal creature who had first emerged from the prison, and regular meals had begun filling out his face again, and there was strength returning slowly to a body that had been starved for years. His hair had been washed and trimmed, though he still wore it long, and the worst of the exhaustion had begun to fade from beneath his eyes. But healing was not the same as being healed, and six years could not be undone in a matter of weeks…
There were lines upon Sirius's face that had no business being there at twenty-seven. Strands of grey ran through hair that Dumbledore remembered as being as black as his family name. His cheeks remained slightly hollow, and there was a guardedness in his expression that had never existed in the young man Dumbledore had once known.
Even standing safely inside the Hall of Nations, Sirius's eyes moved instinctively around the chamber, as if searching for the best means of escape if the need arose…
He looked at the doors, the galleries, the guards, the corners, but above all, the exits. Always the exits...
As he watched Sirius' eyes move across the filled chamber, Dumbledore felt something tighten painfully inside his chest that he instantly recognized for what it was: Shame.
Azkaban had taken six years from Sirius Black, and looking at him now, Dumbledore wondered how much more it had taken with them…
Beside him, Amelia Bones drew in a sudden, trembling breath, which made Dumbledore turn, only to freeze in place as he saw that all the color had drained from her face.
Unlike Dumbledore, Amelia had known Sirius during the final years before Voldemort's fall in a way few people in the chamber had. Dumbledore, as leader of the Order of the Phoenix, had been consumed with trying to keep the losses at bay! She, meanwhile, had seen Sirius inside the Auror Office, and had watched him stumble through those corridors as a young man barely out of Hogwarts, full of arrogance, laughter, and the absolute certainty that he was indestructible!
Sirius had been impossible to ignore in those days. He had laughed too loudly, argued too passionately, and taken risks that made older Aurors threaten to strangle him! He had completed reports only when someone stood over his shoulder and forced him to do so, and possessed a remarkable talent for convincing James Potter to join him in whatever act of stupidity had earned him his latest reprimand.
But what Amelia remembered the most was his grin. That was what hurt most. Even during the darkest years of the war, when casualty reports arrived almost daily, and empty desks began appearing throughout the Ministry, Sirius Black had somehow retained that grin. He had been angry and reckless and occasionally insufferable, but he had been alive in a way that seemed almost defiant!
Voldemort could kill them tomorrow, but Sirius would still laugh today!
Amelia had once believed nothing could take that from him; now she stared at the man standing beyond the doors and realized how terribly wrong she had been…
A second later, her lips parted, and his name escaped her in a whisper so quiet that Dumbledore almost did not hear it.
"Sirius..."
A moment later, a single tear slipped down her cheek, but Amelia did not seem to notice; she simply stared in shocked horror. The man before her was twenty-seven years old, yet there was grey in his hair. His face carried the exhaustion of someone twice his age, and his eyes searched the room with the instincts of a man who had learned that safety was temporary and doors could close without ever opening again!
For Amelia, the accusations against the Ministry had suddenly ceased to be questions of missing documents and broken procedures, and instead transformed into the injustice of the broken man standing before her as Sirius stepped into the Hall.
As soon as he crossed the threshold, the enormous doors began closing behind him, and as the sound caught him, his entire body stiffened, and his head turned sharply as the doors came together with a heavy crash. Although the reaction lasted for little more than a heartbeat, Dumbledore saw it, and so did Amelia and Morticia.
For that brief moment, Sirius was no longer standing before the International Confederation of Wizards; he was twenty-one years old again, a door was closing, and no one was coming back to open it…
As they watched the terror cross his face for that one single moment, Amelia's hand rose to cover her mouth.
A second later, Sirius seemed to remember where he was and, slowly, he drew in a breath as his gaze traveled upward toward the Addams gallery where Harry was sitting beside Wednesday, their hands clasped together as always. The boy was watching Sirius with open concern, and when their eyes met, Harry gave him a small smile.
That single act seemed to help more than anything else, for as the chamber watched, Sirius's shoulders loosened slightly, and a moment later, he looked next toward Gomez and Morticia, and Morticia gave him the smallest of nods; that seemed to be enough, for as the chamber watched, Sirius squared his shoulders, turned back toward the chamber, and began walking.
From where she sat beside the Minister, Amelia watched every step, as if she was remembering another Sirius walking through another room six years earlier. A twenty-one-year-old man laughing as James Potter followed beside him. A young Auror who believed that if he could only survive the war with Voldemort, then he would finally be allowed to begin living, only to be denied ever being given that chance!
Instead, he had entered Azkaban without a trial, without a conviction, and without the opportunity to defend himself! His career was gone. His reputation had been destroyed. His best friends were dead. His godson had grown up without him. And the Ministry responsible for taking all of it from him could not even say who had ordered him imprisoned!
By the time Sirius reached the center of the chamber, the tear had reached Amelia's jaw, and something almost resembling amusement briefly touched Sirius's face as he turned toward the British delegation.
His gaze found Fudge first, and a sneer of contempt and anger crossed his face, so fierce that the Minister actually leaned back in his chair.
Then, Sirius' eyes turned to Amelia, and, for a moment, he stopped as his face went slack as he saw her. Perhaps he remembered the woman who had once watched him, and James turn the Auror Office upside down, or the stern voice that had reprimanded them while fighting unsuccessfully not to laugh.
A second later, his expression softened. Only slightly. Then he saw the tear upon her face and something painful passed between them that required no words.
A second later, Sirius looked away, and his gaze finally settled upon Dumbledore; whatever softness had remained disappeared in a flash as a look of profound hatred and betrayal crossed his face, making Dumbledore pale slightly as Sirius cast one final sneer and turned back to face the Supreme Mugwump.
"Please state your name for the record."
"Sirius Orion Black," Sirius replied at once, his voice carrying clearly throughout the chamber as the Supreme Mugwump nodded.
"And are you prepared to give testimony concerning the circumstances that led to your imprisonment?"
A second later, Sirius turned back to Dumbledore and stared for several seconds.
Six years stood between them.
Six years of questions that had never been asked.
Six years in which Dumbledore had never come looking for answers!
At last, Sirius turned away from him and faced the Supreme Mugwump again.
"I've been ready for six years…"
For several seconds after Sirius finished speaking, no one moved; then the stone floor behind him shifted, and the faint grinding sound was enough to make Sirius spin around with startling speed, one hand disappearing beneath his robes before most of those watching had even realized he had moved! Several of the guards stationed around the chamber tensed instinctively, but the Supreme Mugwump raised one hand before any of them could react.
A second later, a chair began to rise from the floor; there was nothing remarkable about it. It possessed no skeletal wings like the ancient Addams throne, nor did it have flowers with teeth growing from its frame. It was simply a sturdy wooden chair, plain enough that it would not have looked out of place beside any ordinary kitchen table; yet Sirius stared at it as though he expected it to attack him, all the same.
"Mr. Black."
Sirius's eyes immediately snapped toward the Supreme Mugwump.
"You may sit…"
For a moment, Sirius said nothing; then, he seemed to realize where his hand had gone and slowly withdrew it, before chuckling softly in embarrassment.
"Right. Sorry..."
"There is nothing to apologize for, Lord Black..." The old wizard replied softly, the words seeming to surprise Sirius as he stared up at the Supreme Mugwump for several seconds, before he looked back toward the chair. A moment later, his hand briefly touched its back, testing its solidity almost unconsciously, before he finally lowered himself into it, though even as he sat down, his back remained straight, his shoulders tense, and both feet stayed firmly planted against the floor.
"Mr. Black, what we ask of you today will not be easy."
Sirius gave a quiet laugh at that, as a sneer briefly crossed his face.
"No. I don't imagine it will be…"
"You may request a recess at any time. If you require water, food, medical attention, or simply a moment to collect yourself, you need only ask. No one here will compel you to continue before you are ready…"
Sirius stared at him at that, and something flickered across his face that one might have taken for confusion, as though he didn't understand why the man was being so considerate.
From where he sat, Dumbledore felt another wave of shame roll through him as he stared at his former student and friend. For six years, Dumbledore thought bitterly, no one had cared what Sirius needed! Now a complete stranger had shown him more consideration within minutes than his own government had shown him in six years…
"I understand," Sirius said eventually.
A moment later, the Supreme Mugwump nodded and turned toward the assembled delegations, giving them permission to begin their questions.
A heartbeat later, an older witch from Russia was recognized first; her silver hair had been arranged neatly behind her head, and although her expression was serious, there was no accusation in her voice when she addressed Sirius.
"Mr. Black, I would like to begin with the night of October thirty-first, 2001."
Sirius's expression changed, only slightly, but Dumbledore saw his fingers tighten around the arms of the chair.
"All right…"
"Where were you when you learned that James and Lily Potter had been attacked?"
"I didn't learn," Sirius replied as his gaze dropped to the floor. "I knew."
"How?" The witch asked.
"I went to check on Peter…"
"The Potters' Secret Keeper?"
"Yes," Sirius replied as his eyes lifted. "The real one. I was supposed to be their Secret Keeper. Everyone thought I was. That was the point…"
"Whose idea was it to change the Secret Keeper?"
"Mine." The answer came immediately, and more than one listener flinched from the pain that was carried in that single word.
"And why?"
Sirius leaned back slightly, though the movement did nothing to make him appear more comfortable.
"Because everyone knew James and I were brothers in everything but blood… Voldemort knew it. The Death Eaters knew it. The Order knew it."
The reaction from the British delegation was immediate; several Ministry officials flinched at the name, and a witch sitting behind Fudge drew in a sharp breath, while another visibly recoiled as though Sirius had shouted a curse across the chamber. Fudge himself jerked in his seat, his expression tightening with instinctive fear, and even Amelia stiffened slightly before recovering; only Dumbledore remained completely still.
"I thought Voldemort would come after me." Sirius continued, not caring a bit about how the people around him were flinching as another ripple of discomfort moved through the British seats.
"So you intended to act as a decoy?" The Russian representative continued.
"Yes."
"And Peter Pettigrew?"
"He was supposed to be the perfect candidate. No one would suspect Peter… at least, that was what I thought, anyway…"
"And when you went to check on Mr. Pettigrew?" The witch asked softly.
"He was gone," Sirius growled as fingers tightened further around the chair. "His place was empty. At first, I thought that the Death Eaters had tracked him down, but there was no sign of a struggle… That's when I knew that something was wrong…"
The next representative recognized by the Supreme Mugwump was an elderly wizard from Japan.
"What did you do?"
"I went to Godric's Hollow, but by the time I got there, the house was already destroyed. By the time I got there, Hagrid was coming out of the wreckage carrying Harry in his arms. James and Lily were gone…"
"And Harry?" the Japanese representative asked gently.
Only then did Sirius look toward the gallery, a look of profound sorrow on his face as he saw that Harry was watching him.
"Harry was alive…" Sirius said softly as he turned his gaze back to the floor. "I wanted to take him, but Hagrid wouldn't give him to me. He said he had orders not to…"
"Orders from whom?" The wizard from Japan demanded. "You are the child's godfather, are you not? The law is clear in this situation, is it not?"
A second later, Sirius lifted his eyes from the floor and turned to look at Dumbledore, and the aged headmaster could almost feel the anger being directed his way from Sirius' gaze.
"Albus Dumbledore," Sirius growled, the sound coming out animalistic as the chamber stirred slightly in surprise. "I knew how loyal Hagrid was to Dumbledore. He would never have given me Harry willingly, and I didn't want my godson caught in the crossfire, so I gave Hagrid my motorbike, then I went after Peter."
A representative from Egypt was recognized next.
"You confronted him in London?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
A moment later, Sirius laughed, but there was no humor in it.
"He screamed…"
The Egyptian wizard frowned slightly at that, and a second later, motioned for Sirius to continue.
"He screamed that I'd betrayed James and Lily, and before I understood what he was doing, he blasted the street apart!"
"What did you do?"
For a second, Sirius didn't answer as he looked down at his hands; when he finally answered, his voice sounded almost devoid of all emotion, and a chill seemed to roll across the chamber.
"I laughed."
"Why?"
"Because James and Lily were dead." Sirius's voice cracked. "And Peter had done it, and because I thought the coward had blown himself to pieces to avoid facing the consequences. But more than that, I laughed because it was all my fault… I told them to pick Peter."
As the chamber listened in wide-eyed awe, Sirius drew in a breath that did not seem to give him enough air.
"I thought I was clever." Sirius continued, his mouth twisting bitterly as tears began to form in his eyes. "I thought I had outsmarted Voldemort, but the truth is that I killed my best friends…"
"No."
The word came softly from the Addams platform, and as the chamber turned to see who had spoken, they saw Morticia staring at Sirius with an expression that would have made most men run for their lives.
"You trusted the wrong person, darling." Morticia continued, her voice gentle and low. "That is not the same as murder."
For several seconds, Sirius stared at her; then he slowly nodded gratefully and looked away as the Supreme Mugwump allowed the silence to linger a moment longer before continuing.
"What happened when the Ministry arrived?"
"They arrested me." Sirius frowned as Fudge shifted uncomfortably.
"Were you questioned?"
"No."
"Did anyone ask for your account of what had happened?"
"No."
"Did you tell anyone that Peter Pettigrew had been the Secret Keeper?"
Sirius's eyes moved toward Dumbledore at that, and the headmaster couldn't help but look away in guilt.
"No one asked," Sirius hissed angrily, the words striking the chamber like a physical blow and making Amelia's face tighten.
"Did anyone read you formal charges?" The Supreme Mugwump asked with a frown.
"No."
"Did you speak with legal counsel?"
"No."
The Supreme Mugwump regarded him solemnly for several seconds as the chamber began to echo with a thousand different whispered conversations.
"Then what happened?" A witch from Canada demanded, her voice echoing across the chamber.
Sirius went very still at that, and from where he sat, Dumbledore shifted anxiously; he knew the answer, everyone did! Yet hearing Sirius say it was different…
"They took me to Azkaban..."
A second later, the representative from the United States leaned forward, his eyes narrowing angrily as he spoke with his deep southern drawl.
"Immediately?"
Sirius nodded.
"How long after your arrest?"
"I don't know."
"Hours?"
"I think so."
"You were transferred to a maximum-security prison within hours of your arrest?"
"Yes."
"Without interrogation?"
"Yes."
"Without formal charges?"
"Yes."
"Without appearing before a judge?"
"Yes."
"Without a conviction?"
"Yes."
A moment later, the American representative slowly leaned back and turned to glare at Fudge, who had gone red, though whether this was from anger or humiliation was anyone's guess.
"Minister Fudge, just what kind of two-bit government are you running, sir! I thought England was supposed to be more refined than us 'colonists' and yet I can wholeheartedly assure you, sir, that our government has never committed such a serious breach of law!"
"This was wartime!" Fudge snapped back immediately, the shout exploding from him so suddenly that hundreds of heads turned toward the British delegation.
Fudge seemed to realize too late that he had interrupted formal testimony, but fear and desperation had already carried him too far to stop!
"You must understand the circumstances! The Ministry was overwhelmed! You-Know-Who had only just fallen! There were Death Eaters everywhere! Attacks! Confusion! We didn't know who we could trust!"
A strange silence followed as several international representatives stared at him and the American representative frowned for a moment in confusion.
"Forgive me, Minister. Who?"
Fudge blinked at the question, licking his top lip for a moment before replying.
"You-Know-Who."
"No, I don't." The American wizard replied with a snort. "That's why I'm asking you, sir."
A second later, the chamber echoed with laughter as Fudge's face reddened further.
"The Dark Lord."
Several members of the British delegation flinched at that as well, and the American wizard's eyebrows rose as Sirius gave a quiet, humorless laugh.
"He means Voldemort, sir."
The effect upon the British delegation was immediate! Fudge recoiled, several Ministry officials visibly jumped, and someone behind Dumbledore whispered a frightened prayer to Merlin as Sirius stared at them with open contempt.
"His name was Voldemort!"
Another collective flinch.
"He murdered James and Lily! He slaughtered families! He terrorized Britain for years!"
Sirius's voice grew harder with every word.
"And six years after he disappeared, you're still so terrified of him that you can't even say his bloody name!"
"You have no right—" Fudge began, his face turning purple with barely contained rage.
"No right?" Sirius hissed as he leaned forward, cutting off whatever Fudge had been prepared to say.
For the first time since taking the chair, the nervousness that had lingered beneath his movements disappeared completely beneath something much older. Much angrier.
"I fought him," Sirius growled as the chamber fell silent. "I fought his Death Eaters while half the people sitting behind you were hiding in their homes!"
Several British officials looked away at that.
"I watched my friends die fighting him!" Sirius continued as his voice cracked slightly. "I buried people I loved because of him! And then your Ministry threw me into Azkaban for serving him without even bothering to ask whether I actually had!"
Fudge opened his mouth at that as he began to pale again, but nothing came out as Sirius slowly leaned back.
"So don't stand there and tell me what I have the right to call him. I HAVE THE ONLY RIGHT, FUDGE!"
The silence that followed was absolute; Amelia stared down at her hands, Dumbledore closed his eyes, and Fudge, red-faced and trembling, slowly lowered himself into his chair.
"How dare you!" a voice suddenly screeched from the British section, causing many to turn in their seats to see who had spoken.
A moment later, a large witch dressed almost entirely in pink had risen to her feet, her squat features twisted with outrage as she pointed one thick finger toward Sirius.
"You will show the Minister for Magic the respect his office deserves!" Dolores Umbridge shrilled. "Cornelius Fudge is the duly appointed leader of Magical Britain, and I will not sit here while a convicted criminal insults—"
BOOM!
A second later, the Supreme Mugwump's staff struck the stone, and Umbridge stopped, causing the entire chamber to fall silent as the Supreme Mugwump slowly turned toward her.
"Your name," the elderly wizard demanded.
"Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic," the witch replied imperiously as she drew herself up importantly.
The Supreme Mugwump, however, looked profoundly unimpressed as he gazed down at her, and for a moment, his lip curled in distaste.
"Madam Umbridge, you appear to be confused. This is not the British Ministry of Magic."
Several representatives murmured their agreement at that.
"You hold no office here! You possess no authority here! And your Minister's title grants him no special privilege before this Confederation!"
Fudge's face darkened with anger at that, and Umbridge looked scandalized.
"I am merely defending the honor of my Minister!"
"Your Minister," the Supreme Mugwump replied coldly, "currently represents a government accused of imprisoning a man for six years without trial."
That silenced her.
"For the duration of these proceedings, Cornelius Fudge will receive precisely the same respect as every other representative in this chamber." The old wizard continued as his eyes hardened. "No more. And given the evidence presented thus far, I strongly advise the British delegation against demanding that this body respect titles while we investigate whether your government respects basic law!"
A few scattered sounds of approval came from the international delegations at that as Umbridge turned scarlet.
"Now sit down."
"I beg your pardon?" Umbridge replied as her jaw dropped in confusion.
A second later, the Supreme Mugwump's expression became glacial.
"Lord Black's testimony has not concluded, and until it has, the British delegation has no right to interrupt! So, sit. Down."
A dangerous silence descended upon the chamber as Umbridge looked toward Fudge, apparently expecting him to intervene; yet to her disbelief and confusion, Fudge did nothing. He couldn't. And seeing that she would receive no help, Umbridge, slowly, trembling with humiliation, lowered herself back into her chair.
Sirius watched her the entire way; then he smiled and winked at her.
"Good girl."
A strangled noise escaped Umbridge as several representatives laughed; a moment later, the Supreme Mugwump raised his staff again in warning as Umbridge reached into her robes, only for the wizard next to her to grab her arm and whisper something harsh into her ear that made her scowl and sit back, crossing her arms over her chest as she did so.
"Mr. Black," the Supreme Mugwump called out wearily as Sirius's grin widened.
"Yes, Supreme Mugwump?"
"Please refrain from provoking the British delegation."
"I'll do my best."
The Supreme Mugwump regarded him for a moment as Fester and Gomez both cackled from where they sat; finally, after a moment, the aged wizard shook his head in amusement before replying softly.
"That answer was not particularly convincing."
"It wasn't meant to be."
This time, even the Supreme Mugwump had to fight the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Umbridge, meanwhile, looked ready to explode, but she remained seated, and, for once in her life, silent.
"This is ridiculous!" Fudge called out a moment later. "While I will admit that the Ministry made a serious mistake in regard to Lord Black's treatment, the fact that the ICW feels the need to look into it is completely bad form! This is a British matter, and should be handled internally!"
"And perhaps it would have been..." Gomez's voice suddenly interrupted. "Had you actually been prepared to listen to what my cousin has to say. Instead, you sent a pack of Aurors to drag him back to his cell!"
Fudge went crimson with rage and humiliation again at that as Gomez glared across the hall at him
A second later, Amelia's voice broke through the silence of the chamber, coming out hollow and filled with guilt.
"He was twenty-one…"
Fudge turned toward her at that and saw that Amelia was staring straight at Sirius.
"He was one of ours." Her voice trembled slightly. "He worked in the Auror Office."
"Amelia—" Fudge tried, only for her to completely ignore him as she continued to stare at her former Auror.
"And we sent him to Azkaban without asking him a single question."
"You were not Director at the time." Fudge countered as his face hardened slightly. "Crouch was..."
"Yes." Amelia nodded as she finally looked at him. "And apparently the man in charge of dispensing justice in our country thought a trial unnecessary in regard to one of his own..."
As Fudge stared at her, Dumbledore watched him closely and felt his own temper begin to rise. There was no grief upon the Minister's face. No horror at what had been done. No shame that a twenty-one-year-old man had been thrown into Azkaban without so much as an interrogation.
There was only fear…
Not fear for Sirius, not even fear for what this trial might mean for the Ministry. Fear for himself. His position. His reputation. His career.
A moment later, Dumbledore looked away from him in disgust, and the Supreme Mugwump allowed the chamber several moments to settle before recognizing a representative from India.
The witch who rose was middle-aged, dressed in deep blue robes embroidered with gold, and when she addressed Sirius, her voice was noticeably softer than those that had come before.
"Mr. Black, when did you first realize that no trial was coming?"
Sirius did not answer right away; instead, his breathing changed, and Dumbledore noticed immediately. So did Morticia.
As the chamber watched, Sirius's fingers had begun tapping against the arm of the chair.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
"I don't know."
The representative's expression softened at that, and she gazed down at the man whose government had so completely failed him, feeling nothing but pity at everything that had been robbed from him.
"Take your time."
Sirius laughed quietly at that, but there was nothing humorous about it.
"Time…" Sirius whispered as his fingers stopped moving. "I had plenty of that…"
For a few moments, the chamber was as silent as a graveyard as Sirius stared down at the floor before him; when he finally spoke, his voice had become distant and hollow.
"The first few days, I kept thinking someone would come. An Auror. A lawyer."
Then his eyes moved toward Dumbledore.
"Dumbledore."
The old wizard flinched as Sirius looked directly at him, and the anger in his eyes was terrible, but beneath it was something worse… Betrayal.
"I kept thinking someone would open the door and ask me what happened."
Dumbledore tried to hold his gaze. He really did! But as the truth of how badly he had failed his former student became plain to him, his eyes fell toward the floor.
"They never did," Sirius whispered as he finally looked away. "After a few weeks, I stopped expecting a trial."
The representative from India hesitated at that, as though unsure of how to continue; finally, she swallowed tightly and asked in a gentle voice.
"And after that?"
"After that..." Sirius whispered as he looked up at her, his face pale as a corpse. "...I learned how to survive."
The entire Hall seemed to hold its breath as that, and the Indian witch glanced toward the Supreme Mugwump, who gave the smallest nod for her to continue.
"Mr. Black..." She continued, her voice coming out extraordinarily gentle. "Can you tell us what that means?"
Sirius did not answer immediately; instead, his eyes moved instinctively toward the enormous doors. Then toward the Addams gallery where Harry was watching him, Wednesday's hand wrapped around his. Finally, Sirius looked toward Morticia.
She was watching him. Waiting. Not pushing. Simply there.
A moment later, Sirius drew a slow breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter.
"Do you want to know what Azkaban is really like…?"
No one in the Hall moved as Sirius's expression hardened, and even the dimmest in the chamber knew that whatever the man was about to say was going to be terrible…
"All right," Sirius whispered as he settled back into the chair and looked out across the assembled magical world. "Then let me tell you…"
XXXX
High above the main floor of the Hall of Nations, Harry sat very still. He had not understood everything that had been said. There were too many names, too many laws, too many adults asking questions that seemed to make the people below increasingly angry or ashamed. He understood that Sirius had been hurt. He understood that the Ministry had put him somewhere terrible without ever asking whether he had done anything wrong. And he understood that Sirius was afraid…
That part Harry recognized immediately! He knew what fear looked like when someone tried very hard not to show it…
Sirius hid it better than Harry ever had, but he could still see it, just beneath the surface…
He covered it with anger. With sharp answers. With the hard look he kept sending toward the old man with the long silver beard. But Harry could still see it. He saw it in the way Sirius had jumped when the chair rose from the floor. In the way he kept glancing toward the doors. In the way his fingers tightened whenever someone mentioned Azkaban.
Harry frowned as he silently rolled the name across his tongue; he didn't know exactly what it was, besides apparently being a place where bad people were sent, but based on how Sirius was reacting to the name, it was something very, very bad!
A moment later, his own hand had started to feel cold, and he started to pull his hand away when Wednesday's fingers tightened around his, causing him to look at her.
Her expression had not changed as she stared down at where Sirius was seated, but Harry had learned that did not mean she felt nothing. Quite the opposite, in fact; sometimes Wednesday became stillest when she was angriest, and it was those situations in which Harry had learned that the best thing to do was hide and pray…
"He's scared," Harry whispered as Wednesday's thumb moved once across the back of his hand.
"I know."
A moment later, Harry looked back down at Sirius as he began to worry his lip.
"Is he going to be okay?"
Wednesday was quiet for a moment, then she leaned slightly closer so that her shoulder was touching Harry's.
"He will be…"
"How do you know?" Harry whispered as Wednesday's dark eyes remained fixed on the chamber below.
"Because he is ours now."
The answer came so simply that Harry almost smiled as Wednesday continued.
"And anyone who tries to put him back in a cage will discover why our cemeteries are always expanding."
As she finished speaking, Harry stared at her and smiled slightly. That was probably supposed to be frightening, yet somehow, it wasn't. Not to him.
A moment later, he squeezed her hand, and Wednesday squeezed back as below them, Sirius slowly settled into the chair and looked out across the assembled magical world.
"Personally, I'm surprised your parents haven't already killed everyone involved in your cousin's incarceration…" Mandy said softly as she tented her fingers before her and put one leg over the other.
"The day's not over yet…" Wednesday replied with a smile as Sirius, below, finally asked whether they wanted to know what Azkaban was really like, and followed up by saying that he would…
When Sirius finally spoke again, his voice was quiet, and yet it seemed to echo across the chamber as if he had shouted at the top of his voice.
"Most people think Azkaban is a prison…" A faint, bitter smile touched his lips. "It isn't."
A second later, the smile disappeared as Sirius' hands gripped the arms of the chair so tight that the wood began to whine in protest.
"A prison is somewhere you are sent to serve a sentence. You know why you're there. You know how long you have left. You count the days, because eventually there is supposed to be an end. Azkaban doesn't have an end…"
No one moved as Sirius looked down at his lap, his breathing coming out harsh and ragged.
"When they brought me there, no one told me where my cell was. No one explained the rules. No one told me how long I was staying. They opened a door, they pushed me inside, and then they closed it…"
Something in Dumbledore's chest tightened as Sirius stared somewhere beyond the chamber now, his eyes no longer truly seeing the people gathered before him.
"At first, I thought someone would come…" Sirius continued as his voice grew softer. "I thought there had been a mistake."
A cruel little laugh escaped him at that, and many in the British delegation flinched at the sound.
"Funny, isn't it? How I actually believed that."
A moment later, his eyes moved briefly toward the British delegation, silently accusing each one.
"I thought someone would notice. I thought one of the Aurors would realize they'd forgotten to question me. I thought the Wizengamot would summon me. I thought Dumbledore would come…"
The old wizard closed his eyes, and a single tear ran down his cheek as Sirius looked back toward the dignitaries.
"No one came…" He whispered as the silence in the Hall deepened.
"The first night was the worst…"
"Actually…" His expression twisted. "That's not true."
A few representatives shifted uneasily at that.
"The first night was the worst until the second." His voice had become almost conversational. "The second was the worst until the third. And then eventually you stop knowing which night you're on…"
A moment later, Sirius leaned back slightly in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
"There are no clocks in Azkaban. No sunlight, most of the time. No calendars. You learn to measure time differently."
A second later, his eyes darkened and seemed to glaze over slightly again as he continued.
"Meals."
A pause.
"Footsteps."
Another.
"Screams."
The word seemed to settle over the Hall like a dark cloud, and even the reporters had stopped their writing to listen with paralyzed concentration.
"In the beginning, I tried counting." Sirius swallowed. "I counted how many times they brought food. How many times the sea hit the rocks during storms. How many times I heard the Dementors pass my door. Then I lost count. That's one of the first things Azkaban takes from you… Time. You stop knowing whether you've been there for a week or a month. Then you stop caring, altogether… The Dementors make sure of that."
At the word, several members of the British delegation shifted, a change Sirius immediately noticed, his expression growing cold as he looked over at them.
"You've all seen Dementors. Maybe from a distance. Maybe standing guard somewhere. Maybe you've felt one nearby and thought that was unpleasant."
His lips curled.
"You don't know anything…"
The words were not angry, and that made them worse…
"A Dementor passing you in the street is not the same as living with hundreds of them."
The chamber remained utterly still, and even the air seemed to be filled with an electrifying intensity as Sirius stared off into the distance.
"They don't just make you sad," Sirius said as he shook his head slowly. "Sadness is human. You can survive sadness..."
A moment later, he looked toward the Supreme Mugwump.
"They take the memory that you were ever anything else…"
A quiet murmur moved through the chamber and died just as quickly.
"You remember every terrible thing that ever happened to you. Every failure. Every person you couldn't save. Every mistake. And after a while, those memories stop feeling like memories. Instead, they become the only truth that matters..."
As Harry watched, Sirius's face went pale, and he suddenly tightened his grip around Wednesday's hand.
"You forget what laughter feels like," Sirius whispered as Amelia's eyes filled again with tears. "You remember that you used to laugh, but it becomes something that happened to someone else. You remember having friends, but eventually, you stop believing they were real…"
Harry sat very still in the gallery as Wednesday's grip tightened around his hand as Sirius continued.
"I used to see James," he whispered as his eyes unfocused. "Not alive. Never alive. I would see him lying there, over and over. The same moment. The same house. The same face."
A moment later, his breathing grew shallower.
"The Dementors found every memory that hurt, and they fed it back to me until there was nothing else…"
A moment later, Sirius looked toward his hands again as the chamber hung on his every word.
"Sometimes I heard James asking me why I trusted Peter. Why I changed the plan. Why I let him die..."
A second later, Sirius's fingers clenched over the arms of the chair again.
"I knew it wasn't real." He spoke, his voice becoming almost a whisper. "At first. But after enough years… You stop knowing the difference. One man screamed for his mother every night. Another begged someone called Eleanor to forgive him."
A heartbeat later, Sirius swallowed.
"There was a woman somewhere below me who sang." As the chamber watched, a faint, broken smile appeared on Sirius' face as his eyes glazed over in memory. "She had a beautiful voice… She stopped after a few months."
No one asked why. No one needed to.
"Sometimes a cell would go quiet." Sirius continued as he stared at the floor. "And then, after a while, the door would open, and you'd hear something being dragged away."
Amelia covered her mouth, and Fudge looked sick now, though Dumbledore could not tell whether it was from horror or from imagining tomorrow's headlines.
"There were days I wanted that." Sirius's words were barely audible, but several representatives looked up sharply, showing that they had heard.
"I wanted my door to open… I wanted them to drag me away. Not because I wanted to die." He paused. "At least, I don't think I did…"
The distinction seemed to frighten the chamber more than the admission.
"I just wanted it to stop." His voice shook. "The cold. The memories. The screaming. The waiting…"
As the chamber watched in horrified silence, Sirius rubbed one hand slowly across his face.
"For someone…" His voice cracked. "…anyone… to ask me one question: Did you do it?"
A moment later, Sirius sat back as exhaustion seemed to settle over him all at once.
The Supreme Mugwump looked older than he had moments before, and the representatives who had arrived that morning hungry for scandal no longer looked excited.
Some were pale.
Some were openly crying as they stared down at the broken boy who had been so horribly and wrongfully punished.
Others stared toward the British delegation with expressions that were filled with murderous anger, and Dumbledore felt himself swallowing tightly as he imagined just how far their case had fallen in the eyes of the ICW.
From where she sat, Morticia was looking at Fudge with such cold hatred in her eyes that there actually appeared to be a fine layer of frost spreading across the arms of her chair.
"That is Azkaban," Sirius whispered as he stared down at his lap. "That is where my government sent me without a trial…"
XXXX
From where she sat behind her friend, Mandy could see that Wednesday's body seemed to be twitching, as though she was trying very hard to control her temper. A second later, unable to help herself, the corner of Mandy's mouth twitched upwards just a bit in a small smirk. These fools had no idea just how much danger they were currently in...
And judging by how still Morticia had gone, down below, Mandy suspected that Wednesday's mother was equally enraged by the treatment that her cousin had received...
Casting a look down at the trembling Minister, Mandy found herself chuckling. Whether the ICW punished England or not... Fudge was a dead man.
And if there was anything that Mandy had learned from the years of being Wednesday's friend, it was that when brought to anger, the Addams family showed no mercy... no matter how much their victim begged for it.
XXXX
For several moments after Sirius finished speaking, no one moved, and the Hall of Nations remained utterly silent; then Morticia Addams rose, and the soft whisper of her black dress against the stone seemed impossibly loud as she descended from the ancient Addams platform and crossed the chamber toward Sirius.
As she slowly approached him, he seemed not to notice; instead, he remained seated with his head bowed, staring down at his hands as though the act of speaking had taken whatever strength remained inside him. As the chamber watched, his shoulders had begun to tremble despite his obvious attempts to keep them still, and the anger that had carried him through his testimony was finally gone.
For six years, anger had kept Sirius Black alive! Now, for perhaps the first time, he was somewhere safe enough to let it go, and as Morticia stopped before him, Sirius slowly looked up.
For a moment, neither of them spoke; then Morticia simply opened her arms and whatever fragile control Sirius still possessed shattered!
As the chamber watched, he rose so quickly that the chair scraped backward against the stone, and a moment later he was in her arms!
As she wrapped both arms around him and pulled him against her as though she could somehow shield him from six years that had already happened, Sirius clung to her, and a quiet sob escaped him. Then another.
"Hush, darling," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You've carried it long enough."
From where he sat, Dumbledore could only stare as he felt his heart break all over again. There had been a time when Sirius might have turned to him. Once, perhaps, Sirius might have looked toward Albus Dumbledore and believed that he would protect him. That he would listen. That if the entire world turned against him, Dumbledore would at least ask whether the accusations were true.
But Dumbledore had never asked…
And now Sirius stood in the arms of a woman whom most of magical Britain considered a monster, receiving the comfort his own people had denied him for six years…
The irony was almost unbearable...
A moment later, Gomez Addams rose from his throne, and every eye in the chamber turned toward him, and the warmth that had been in his expression as he watched his wife embrace their cousin disappeared the moment his gaze settled upon the British delegation.
As his eyes locked with the Minister's, Fudge visibly stiffened, and Gomez smiled at the man; it was not a pleasant smile, but rather the smile of a man who had just watched his opponent stagger backward toward the edge of a cliff and had finally decided to give him a gentle push. And as soon as he saw it, Dumbledore knew that whatever the man had planned, it would not bode well for the Ministry's case, if they even had one at this point…
"My lords and ladies of the Confederation..." Gomez said jovially, his voice carrying easily throughout the chamber. "We have heard a most dreadful story today."
No one disagreed.
"We have heard how a twenty-one-year-old man was arrested without interrogation."
As he spoke, Gomez began descending the steps of the Addams platform, and his shoes clicked ominously across the stone.
"Imprisoned without charge."
Another step.
"Condemned without conviction."
Another.
"And abandoned for six delightful years in one of the most revolting places mankind has ever devised."
A second later, his smile widened.
"All because the British Ministry was absolutely certain that Sirius Black was guilty of betraying one friend and killing another personally."
Fudge's face had gone pale as Gomez stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
"Of course..." He added, casually adjusting one cuff. "...there is one tiny problem."
As the chamber waited, Gomez looked directly at Fudge and winked.
"The dead man is not dead."
A murmur erupted through the Hall at that, and the Supreme Mugwump struck his staff once against the floor again until silence returned.
"For six years, Magical Britain told itself that Peter Pettigrew had been murdered by Sirius Black." Gomez continued as he slowly turned, addressing the entire Confederation. "For six years, Peter Pettigrew was celebrated as a hero. But perhaps the most fascinating part of this entire tragedy is that, in six years, no one ever thought to ask whether any of it was true!"
"Fortunately..." Gomez continued, spreading his arms, his smile becoming positively radiant. "...we did."
Fudge went completely still, Dumbledore felt cold, and Gomez looked toward the Supreme Mugwump.
"So, my dear Supreme Mugwump, esteemed representatives, honored witches, wizards, and assorted political creatures..." His eyes flickered toward Fudge at that. "...perhaps it is time we heard from the man whose supposed murder condemned Sirius Black."
For one single moment, no one moved; then the Hall exploded! Voices rose from every delegation at once as representatives surged to their feet! The galleries erupted in stunned shouting, while the Supreme Mugwump struck his staff repeatedly against the stone in a futile attempt to restore order.
Fudge looked as though someone had just pronounced his death sentence. Amelia closed her eyes. Dumbledore remained frozen. Through it all, Gomez simply stood before the Addams throne and smiled.
Then, slowly, the Supreme Mugwump managed to bring the chamber back under control, his face pale as a fresh corpse as he looked back toward Gomez.
"Lord Addams..." The aged wizard called out, his voice carrying easily through the settling Hall. "Are you stating before this Confederation that Peter Pettigrew is presently available to give testimony?"
"Oh, yes," Gomez replied as his eyes gleamed with cruel delight.
A moment later, he glanced toward Fester and the bald man grinned before rising from his chair and making his way out of the Addams box. As he watched his brother leave the box, Gomez turned back toward the British delegation.
"Though I should warn you..." He continued as his smile became something terrible. "...he's had a rather educational few days."
And as the color drained completely from Cornelius Fudge's face, Gomez Addams began to laugh.
XXXX
Author's Note:
And there we have it, my delightful goblins! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! And if you didn't... well, that sucks. I had fun, and that's what matters! XD LMFAO
Also, before anyone asks why I suddenly switched from calling her Madam Bones to Amelia, there is a very simple and deeply sophisticated explanation: I got tired of typing Madam Bones.
That's it.
That's the reason.
After writing her name for what felt like the nine-hundredth time, I decided that we're all friends here, Sirius is traumatized, Britain is currently being internationally crucified, and formalities are officially the least of our concerns. So, Amelia, it is!
Anyway, the next chapter should be out soon, and now that Sirius has finished emotionally beating the British Ministry to death with his testimony, it's time to bring out the man everyone has been waiting for...
Peter Pettigrew.
Until next time, my delightful little goblins, try not to get arrested without a trial! Apparently, that's something we actually have to specify now…