Innocence Lost and Found

Cornelius Fudge was stunned to see that the doorway to Albus Dumbledore's office had been left open, but the situation did not seem quite so odd when he considered that a new class of students was about to be welcomed to Hogwarts. Dumbledore must be on his way out of his office.

‘Hello?’ he called as he entered the room. Three men looked at him. One, of course, was Dumbledore; and one was Remus Lupin, the only victim of childhood lycanthropy who had ever become a fully trained wizard, though to what end Fudge was not sure; but it was the third who greeted him first.

‘Cornelius Fudge.’

‘I'm sorry, Sir, I've forgotten your name.’

He laughed, a laugh almost like a bark. ‘How unfortunate.’

Fudge turned slowly to face his accuser, annoyance burning in his eyes. No one dared to speak to the Minister of Magic in this way, but insolence still shone from the man's eyes. Lupin was gesturing that his companion should shut up, and Fudge wondered why. He had spoken to Lupin only a few times over the past fifteen years, and while Lupin had been as polite as a werewolf could be, there had been no love lost between the two. ‘May I ask your name?’ he inquired crisply.

‘I don't think I'll tell you. I don't know if you would be able to stand the embarrassment.’

‘Very compassionate of you.’

‘You wouldn't know compassion if you tripped over it.’

‘Cornelius,’ Dumbledore interrupted. ‘This is a surprise. What brings you here?’

‘What else but Harry Potter? There's a rumor that he was not on the Hogwarts Express.’

‘You hardly needed to come down here personally to have me say that Harry is safe and sound and down in the Great Hall with his friends.’

‘I see that he isn't the only one who's safe and sound.’ Fudge jerked his head toward Lupin. ‘You're presumed dead.’

‘An erroneous assumption, I'm afraid,’ said Lupin pleasantly, still watching his companion out of the corner of his eye.

‘Well, then, seeing as you're still among the living, would you care to introduce me to your friend before I see if I can drum up some charges against him for speaking so rudely to the Minister of Magic?’

Fudge was favored with a half-laugh, half-glare from the man he did not know. Lupin, meanwhile, was given nods from both of the other men in the room, and cleared his throat. ‘Minister Fudge, may I present Sirius Black?’

‘What?’ Fudge nearly fell backward into a chair. ‘Dumbledore, this isn't funny.’

‘I quite agree,’ said Dumbledore smoothly. ‘I believe he has an alibi or two if you were planning to have the Daily Prophet blame last night's incident on him.’

‘Blame-- but’ Fudge sputtered. ‘Reporting and blaming are not the same thing.’

‘Indeed they are not. Nor are attempting to calm the population at large and attempting to keep them uninformed the same thing.’

‘Are you insinuating that I am attempting to keep the general population in the dark about the activities of Death Eaters?’

‘I'm insinuating nothing, Cornelius. I simply believe that the Daily Prophet's recent articles which place all of the recent dark activity on Sirius' head and which plainly state that Voldemort has not risen again are a danger. If Voldemort is to be defeated, our allies must know that it is time to fight.’

‘But-- this-- Is this truly Sirius Black?’

‘At your service. Or not,’ Black answered.

Fudge stared at him. He looked nothing like the man he had seen when he made his yearly visits to Azkaban, but when he thought of the famous picture of Black, laughing, as the world exploded around him, he became painfully aware that the infamous prisoner was indeed before him. ‘Dumbledore, this is a bit much, even for you. Harboring the most infamous criminal in the world? People live in fear of this man! He escaped from Azkaban! Dementors don't affect him!’

‘I wouldn't say that for sure,’ said Dumbledore, his voice never rising. ‘Sirius? Do dementors affect you?’

‘Yes,’ replied Black, his voice rather less cocky than it had been.

‘See?’ Dumbledore continued, returning his attention to Fudge. ‘It is dangerous to make that kind of assumption, Cornelius.’

‘I would think it would also be dangerous to assume that it would be safe to allow Sirius Black to enter a school full of children, including Harry Potter.’

‘I don't assume that it is safe. I know for a fact that it is.’

Fudge's ire began to rise. ‘Would it be safe for me to assume that you do not plan to hand Black over to the dementors without a fight?’

‘Indeed it would. The fact is, as I'm sure you agree, that Sirius was never even tried for the death of Peter Pettigrew and the Muggles in that street, let alone for any more recent dark activity.’

‘He didn't need a trial! The evidence was clear.’

‘I don't believe it was. I further believe that more evidence has been gathered since that time. And under no circumstances will Sirius leave this castle until he has been properly tried. If he is exonerated, the Daily Prophet will be forced to retract its speculation that one man is responsible for the recent appearances of the Dark Mark.’

‘In that case, why doesn't I just call up the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and a panel of Ministry employees to act as jury, and we can try him right here, right now?’ Fudge was joking, but as he watched Dumbledore's face, he became aware that he might be forced to be as good as his word.

‘I would approve of that. I have to go down to see the Sorting and open the feast, but I'll return before you can get your people here. I suggest the seminar room in the dungeon next to the Potions classroom as a courtroom?’

‘Fine. But he must remain here until he can be escorted by hit wizards.’

‘Is that a problem, Sirius?’ Black shook his head. ‘And Remus stays with him as well. He is my guard.’

‘Very well.’

‘The fire is at your disposal. Arthur Weasley is here if you'd like the help of one of your own employees.’

Fudge was mildly surprised. ‘Weasley? What's he doing here?’

‘He and his wife came to see their youngest son. Harry Potter's closest friend, you know, and he owled them from the train extremely upset.’

That was a reasonable explanation, Fudge supposed. He followed Dumbledore from his office and headed for the dungeon that was to house their drumhead trial. Within an hour, he had brought various department heads, prison guards, and witnesses to his side.

William Middleton, a nondescript middle-aged wizard who had recently risen to the highest position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement thanks to a series of scandals which had left him unaffected, was ready to begin the trial almost as soon as he arrived, and he did not have long to wait. The dungeon was not filled nearly to capacity, but a large number of faculty and staff members, as well as witnesses and journalists, arrived and sat around the edges of the room. The trial smacked of legitimacy even if it was being held at a moment's notice in an unused classroom.

Middleton quickly summarized the evidence, well known to all present, which had been gathered against Sirius Black fourteen years earlier. ‘Joshua Houston!’ he snapped upon completion of this task.

‘Yes, Mr. Middleton.’

‘You understand the terms of this trial and that you are sworn to speak truthfully.’

‘I do.’

‘You were employed at the Fortress of Azkaban fourteen years ago?’

‘I was, sir.’

‘You were present the day that Sirius Black was first brought into confinement?’

‘I was.’

‘Is this Sirius Black?’ Middleton pointed.

‘It is.’

‘The same man who was imprisoned in the Fortress of Azkaban.’

‘Yes.’

‘Throughout the time period that you served as a guardian at Azkaban, did you take notice of his behavior as different from the behavior of the other prisoners?’

‘At first, he was a lot the same as the others. He was already mad when he was brought in, it seemed. Started trying to kill himself right off, but that's hard for a high-security prisoner. He's always being watched, and Luke and me, we wanted to make sure he suffered for a long time for what he did.’

‘'Luke' being Lucas Roshka, your former co-worker.’

‘Yes. The dementors, they can't really tell what a prisoner is doing. They can't see. As long as they're making the prisoners unhappy, they don't care about anything else. They aren't easy to work with. You're always afraid they'll forget about the prisoners and turn on you. So usually you don't go out where they are, but we made exceptions for prisoners like Black.’

‘If you would return to the subject of his behavior?’

‘He kept trying to kill himself for the first few months. Once he almost did it. Cut himself open somehow and tried to drown himself in his own blood. We got to him in time, though. We weren't going to let him put himself out of his misery. We weren't going to be out-smarted by some pretty boy barely out of his teens.’ Various members of the Hogwarts contingent began to cry, softly, during this speech. Remus Lupin, seated among the hit wizards guarding Black, looked as if he might become physically ill. Black himself, though, was staring almost vacantly across the room, not seeming to hear the guard's testimony.

‘And after the first few months, the suicide attempts stopped?’

‘Yes. He didn't yell any more either, although he never did yell near so much as the rest. He seemed less mad as time went on. Resigned, and drained, but after a while we didn't have to check on him anymore.’

‘And it had been years since anyone had run a regular check on him when he escaped.’

‘Yes. The Minister of Magic saw him when he did his rounds, and the prisoners saw him when they were dragged in or out, and the occasional visitor. But he hadn't seen anyone but dementors on a regular basis.’

‘That much contact with dementors would drive most men mad.’

‘Yes. But he seemed to become more aware of himself. Before he escaped, he started talking in his sleep again, the dementors said. But he was lucid.’

‘What did he say in his sleep?’

‘He said 'He's at Hogwarts' over and over again.’

‘Who was at Hogwarts?’

‘Harry Potter.’

‘Did he say Harry Potter's name?’

‘No. But everyone knew that Black would never have been imprisoned if You-Know-Who had been able to kill Harry Potter.’

‘Thank you. Albus Dumbledore.’ Dumbledore rose and walked to the interrogation table in the middle of the room as Joshua Houston left it. ‘You understand the terms of this trial and that you are sworn to speak truthfully?’ Middleton queried, obviously feeling slightly silly asking such a question of the greatest wizard of his time.

‘I do.’

‘Is it true that you allowed dementors from Azkaban, despite your feeling that they detract from your students' ability to learn, to guard Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the academic year immediately following Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban?’

‘That is correct.’

‘Is it also correct that you allowed such measures to be taken because you knew of the escaped prisoner's statement: 'He's at Hogwarts?'’

‘Indeed it is.’

‘Is it further correct to believe that your suspicions that Black would attempt to enter the castle were confirmed when he did so, not once but twice, once attacking a living painting which would not allow him into the common room used by Harry Potter and once gaining entrance to Potter's dormitory and threatening a student with a knife?’

‘I do not believe that he threatened a student with a knife. You are otherwise correct.’

‘Finally, he was detained on Hogwarts grounds after holding Potter and his friends Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley at wandpoint, but escaped by means unknown?’

‘I do not know the details of his confrontation with Harry and his friends, but he was detained on Hogwarts grounds and he did escape before the dementors were able to administer their kiss.’

‘Do you see any reason that he should not be returned to Azkaban and given the dementor's kiss now?’

‘I do.’ Everyone had expected this statement, but a murmur rose from the assembled crowd nonetheless. ‘I believe Sirius Black to be innocent of the charges for which he was originally imprisoned. As he was denied a trial at the time, I believe that he should be given a chance to speak for himself now.’

‘Agreed. Please return to your seat. Mr. Black, do not move. You will give your testimony from your current position. You understand the terms of this trial and that you are sworn to speak truthfully?’

‘Yes.’

‘You further understand that owing to your reputation and the circumstances surrounding this trial you will be asked to speak under veritaserum?’

‘Yes.’

‘You are aware that undiluted Veritaserum has a tendency to cause nausea and that if you are unable keep it internalized, you will be asked to take a second dose?’

‘Yes.’

‘You agree to these conditions, and agree that any testimony not given under the influence of Veritaserum will be moot?’

‘Yes.’

‘Dr. Tildash?’ Middleton turned to a Ministry potions-brewer, who produced a vial of clear liquid. ‘This Veritaserum is pure?’

‘It is, Mr. Middleton. It was prepared in the presence of eyewitnesses at the Ministry of Magic Lab last Wednesday.’ Tildash presented the seal to the avidly watching audience. He then broke the seal and produced a sheet of paper to which he touched the tiniest drop of Veritaserum. The paper turned blood red, and all the witnesses to the trial became convinced that the vial did indeed contain the mentioned substance. At last, the vial was handed to a hit wizard, who handed it to Black while attempting not to brush the convict's fingers with his own.

Black downed the Veritaserum in one gulp. His face grew a shade paler, but he turned to Middleton, quite obviously waiting to be questioned.

Middleton drew breath and began. ‘Mr. Black, you stand accused of murdering Peter Pettigrew as well as twelve Muggle bystanders, of aiding He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named by functioning as a spy who reported on the whereabouts of James and Lily Potter among others, and of attacking Harold Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger with intent to harm. How do you plead?’

‘Not guilty.’

‘Ministry records show that James and Lily Potter were well aware that they were at the top of You-Know-Who's hit list, and that they made appropriate preparations to protect themselves. Were you their secret keeper?’

‘No.’

‘Albus Dumbledore has testified in the past that you were.’

‘I expected to be the secret keeper. We changed our plans at the last moment in the hopes of fooling a spy we knew to be among us. Ministry records should also show that someone very close to James Potter was passing information to Voldemort.’ A shudder ran through the crowd at the mention of the name.

‘Say 'You-Know-Who' please, Mr. Black.’

‘You-Know-Who. I was the predictable choice to be James' secret keeper. Peter Pettigrew was substituted at the last moment.’

‘Have you any means of proving this?’

‘Just my word.’ Black gulped, as if he was about to lose the battle with his stomach over the Veritaserum, but he continued.

‘Take us back to the night when You-Know-Who lost his powers. Where were you?’

‘I was in hiding. I had to be; I was the red herring secret keeper. I became nervous, so I went to Peter's hiding place to check on him.’

‘You Apparated?’

‘I was too scared. I might have splinched myself even without trying to avoid anti-Apparation spells. I took a motorcycle I had enchanted to fly. It was registered with the Ministry. The Phillips Clause of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Act was not yet in effect.’

‘Mr. Black, you are not on trial for possession of a flying motorcycle. What did you see when you arrived at Peter Pettigrew's hiding place?’

‘He was gone. There was no sign of a struggle. Everything felt wrong. I went to Godric's Hollow as fast as I could, wanting to warn James. But when I got there, I only saw--’ Black's eyes were wild, and his voice cracked, as if he were truly reliving the moment-- assuming that the moment had actually occurred.

‘You saw what?’ prompted Middleton.

‘The Dark Mark.’ His voice broke again, and he began to cry, or, if he was not crying, a solitary tear trailed down his left cheek. Several of the impromptu jury members behind Fudge were choking on sobs as well. I expected that out of the Hogwarts staff, but my Ministry employees? They know what we've been going through to catch this man! They know what he is! Fudge thought angrily.

‘I got closer,’ Black continued, ‘and I saw Hagrid.’

‘Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts Groundskeeper?’

‘Yes. He was holding Harry. Harry was bleeding, from his forehead, and he was covered with dust, from the rubble. But he was alive. He's my godson, and I'm his legal guardian, and I asked Hagrid to let me take him. I was trying to fulfill at least one of my promises to James and Lily. But Hagrid told me no, and we argued, and I ended up giving him my motorcycle to take Harry away. I was planning to commit murder, and I knew that you couldn't take a motorcycle to prison, or to the grave.

‘Hagrid left with Harry, and I stayed there and stared at the house. Just stared at it, like if I stared at it long enough it would rebuild itself, and James would come out and tell me to go to bed, it was the middle of the night. But nothing changed, no matter how long I stood there, and I had to start moving before the officials and the curiosity-seekers did. I started to go through the rubble, collecting things that Harry was entitled to but that he wouldn't get if they became evidence, or souvenirs, or museum pieces, or garbage. Photographs, mostly.

‘Hagrid, I think, I don't think anyone was there before him, had pulled Lily and James from the rubble, checked to see if they had survived. They hadn't, of course. They were still lying roughly where they died. He was where the front door had been, and she was towards the far side of the house, where Harry's nursery was. I picked her up and put her next to James. Their faces-- were both-- frozen, the way Avada Kedavra is. I tried to close their eyes, and I couldn't. And then I saw that James didn't have his glasses, and I started panicking even more, because he couldn't see without his glasses. I tore what was left of the house apart until I found them, and gave them back to him, and said I was sorry, over and over, but he couldn't say anything. Neither of them could.

‘I took the things I had for Harry, and I went to Gringotts. Apparated this time. I wasn't upset anymore. I had made my decision and that made me feel calm all over. There wasn't any turning back and that was comforting. I put Harry's things in my vault. And, I started tracking down Peter Pettigrew.

‘He wasn't hard to find. In retrospect, I guess he wanted me to find him. I started to confront him, and he yelled at the top of his lungs that I'd betrayed Lily and James. Everyone in the street heard. He had a wand behind his back, and before I could draw, he'd cut off his finger and blown up the street. He transformed into a rat-- he was an illegal animagus--’ here gasps of disbelief filled the room ‘and ran into the sewers, faking his own death and framing me, the only person who knew he'd betrayed the Potters.

‘I stood there and laughed. It was so absurd. I don't remember the next few days very well. I remember asking to be allowed to see Dumbledore, or Remus, or one of a few people I thought would hear me out, but that was forbidden. I was sent to Azkaban without a trial.’

‘An interesting story, Mr. Black. Skip ahead to your escape from Azkaban. Why did you choose to escape just then?’

‘Minister Fudge had recently visited the prison and given me a newspaper. The Weasley family won some sort of Ministry contest and in the picture the youngest boy's pet rat was sitting on his shoulder. I knew that the rat was Peter in his animagus form, and I knew from the caption that the boy attended Hogwarts. Peter was at Hogwarts, near Harry, possibly even living in the same dormitory. I had to find him, finish the job I'd started twelve years before, protect Harry, keep one promise to James and Lily. I escaped.’

‘How, Mr. Black, if not by Dark magic?’

‘I told you that Peter was an unregistered animagus. So am I. A dementor can't see, and couldn't tell that I turned into a dog to slip through the bars and swim to shore. Becoming a dog also helped me to remain sane. A dog's emotions are less complex and a dog cannot become distraught the way a human can. I was also sane, and able to plan an escape, because I was innocent. I was not happy to be wrongfully imprisoned, so the dementors couldn't take my knowledge of my innocence or that part of my identity from me.’

‘Would you care to turn into a dog for us?’

‘That would require my leaving this chair.’

Middleton nodded to the hit wizards, who stepped back. ‘Go on.’

Sirius rose, and transformed to dog and then to human while a murmur ran through the crowd. Fudge found himself feeling stunned with all the rest.

‘Continue your story,’ commanded Middleton when quiet had again descended.

‘I went first to Little Whinging, because I wanted to see Harry. I did, in my dog form obviously, as he left his aunt and uncle's house on the Knight Bus. Then I went to Hogwarts, lived in the forest--’

‘The Forbidden Forest?’

‘After twelve years in Azkaban I certainly wasn't afraid of the Forbidden Forest. I entered the castle twice using secret passages I had learned about as a student. The first time I could not enter the dormitory where Peter was hiding because I did not have the password. The second time I had the password, but Peter's 'owner,' Ron, woke up and shouted before I was able to find him.

‘One night, when Ron and Harry and Hermione were out late, I saw Peter. I grabbed him, and I pulled him into the tunnel that runs beneath the Whomping Willow. Ron would not let go, so I pulled him in as well. Harry and Hermione followed. The Ministry must have statements regarding the other events of that night.’

‘Indeed we do. Yours as well as Severus Snape's. Yours hinge on Peter Pettigrew's presence and his confession to betraying James and Lily Potter. You have proven yourself to be an animagus, but you were notorious for your magical power and your cleverness even when you were a child. Peter Pettigrew was not. Can you offer proof of his animagus abilities?’

‘I can. Among the photographs I mentioned taking from the wreckage of the house were several which portrayed Peter's switch to his alter-form.’

‘Very well. That will be all, Mr. Black. Is Griphook present?’ A Gringotts goblin stepped forward from the shadows. He looked none too happy to be in a Hogwarts dungeon. ‘You understand the terms of this trial and that you are sworn to speak truthfully?’ The goblin grunted in the affirmative. ‘Was the box you hold in your arms placed in Sirius Black's vault on the first of November fourteen years ago?’

‘It was.’

‘Has it been disturbed since then?’

The goblin smiled nastily. ‘No. No one touches anything that doesn't belong to them in Gringotts. It was not removed until this evening.’

‘Very well. Leave the box. You may go.’ Griphook hastened out gratefully, and Middleton opened the box. Inside, on top of the stack of photographs, was a photograph of a young, blond-haired man, smiling nervously. Glancing over Middleton's shoulder, Fudge was able to see, quite clearly, that the man was indeed Peter Pettigrew, and that he was indeed an animagus. For the first time, he felt a real seed of doubt in the pit of his stomach. What have we done? ‘Let the record show that the photograph does indeed offer strong evidence to support the claim that Peter Pettigrew was or is an animagus. If the proprietor of Ollivander's Wands could come forward.’ Mr. Ollivander rose from a seat toward the back of the room and made his way to the interrogation seat, stumbling slightly. He looked as if the earlier proceedings had rather unnerved him. ‘You understand the terms of this trial and that you are sworn to speak truthfully?’

‘Yes.’

‘You recall every wand that you have ever sold in your shop?’

‘Yes.’

‘This wand was handed to me just prior to the start of this trial. Do you recognize it?’

‘Couldn't forget it. It belonged to Sirius Black. Dragon heartstring, mahogany, eleven inches. Very powerful. A very good match.’

‘If Sirius Black were to hold this wand now, after fourteen years, would it react to him as it did when it first chose him?’

‘It's very likely.’

‘Mr. Black, stand and extend your wand hand. Do not attempt to move otherwise, or this trial will be over.’ Black stood, and the guards stood along with him, pointing their wands at his head and heart. The wand was handed to a guard who shakily placed it in Black's hand. Brightly colored sparks shot from the wand's end almost before it touched him, and Black gave a strangled cry, nearly weaving on his feet. The wand was quickly removed, and returned to Mr. Ollivander. ‘Mr. Ollivander, if this wand meets with another wand which had a core donated by the same dragon and the wands are forced to duel, what will occur?’

‘Priori incantantem. One wand will force its brother to regurgitate every spell it has ever cast. If a wand has committed murder, the images of the victims will appear.’

‘Is such a wand possessed by anyone present?’

‘Yes. Mafalda Hopkirk.’ Mafalda was among the Ministry members serving as jurors.

‘Ms. Hopkirk? If you would come forward and draw against Mr. Ollivander, please? Mr. Ollivander, if you would refrain from attempting to overpower Ms. Hopkirk?’ Both nodded. ‘On the count of three, you will attempt to disarm one another. One, two, three.’

Light shot from both wands, and, quickly, beads of light began to force their ways into the wand Mr. Ollivander held. Ordinary spells displayed themselves: spells that lit fires, summoned or banished, permitted Apparation, gave power to inanimate objects, transfigured, gave guidance. The process had gone on for nearly an hour when Middleton announced that the court accepted that no dark magic had ever been done with the wand. Both demonstrators sat down gratefully as Middleton began to summarize the written evidence which suggested that the explosion that had killed a dozen people had not originated at the spot where Sirius Black had stood. Fudge put little weight on that evidence, but he could hardly ignore the rest.

At long last, Middleton, having grown quite hoarse, began to call forward his final witnesses. ‘Harold James Potter.’

Harry was escorted in by a Hogwarts instructor Fudge did not recognize right off, and was led to the interrogation chair. ‘You understand the terms of this trial and that you are sworn to speak truthfully?’

‘Yes.’ He looked very young, and very nervous.

‘On the night that you were confronted by Sirius Black in the Shrieking Shack, did he threaten you?’

‘No.’

‘Did he threaten either of your friends?’

‘No.’

‘Did he do you physical harm?’

‘No. We fought against each other a little bit, and he almost choked me trying to make me listen to him, but he didn't hurt me.’

‘Did he do physical harm to either of your friends?’

‘He broke Ron's leg, but not on purpose.’

‘Did he place a confundus charm on you?’

‘No.’

‘Were you afraid of him?’

‘Only at first. When I understood what he was doing I wasn't afraid of him anymore.’

‘Did Peter Pettigrew appear to you?’

‘Yes.’

‘You believe him to be an animagus?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did he confess to being the secret keeper who betrayed your parents?’

‘Yes.’

The process was repeated with Harry's friends Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Their answers matched exactly, and the three were sent to sit with Arthur Weasley's wife. Fudge was only glad that he would not have to listen to the werewolf's account of the story. People were even less likely to believe werewolves than they were to believe children.

Strength returned to Middleton's weary voice as he began his final speech. ‘Sirius Black, you have been brought here in front of the Council of Magical Law to answer charges relating to the deaths of Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles; functioning as a spy for You-Know-Who; and attacking Ronald Weasley, Harold Potter, and Hermione Granger. Do you have anything to add to your testimony before we pronounce judgment?’

‘Yes. My behavior has not always been mature and well thought out. It has not always answered to common sense and it has not always served my best interests. I do not regret that I have not served myself well. I do regret that I have not served Harry Potter well. He is my best friend's son. I have sworn since the day he was born that I would love him. I do. I have sworn since the day he was born that I would take care of him. I have not been able to. He's not the baby he was when I first began to make the mistakes that have kept me from him. He's tall enough to put his head on my shoulder when I hug him and he's old enough to tell me I'm a hypocrite when I ask him to have more sense than I do, although I must say that he only tells me so very politely. I'm asking for the benefit of the doubt. I'm asking to be formally and publicly allowed back into my godson's life when he's in more danger than ever. Please.’

All during the course of Black's speech, Fudge noted, Harry Potter was nodding and turning pleading eyes to the jury. Naturally, they were paying attention. Everyone paid attention to Harry Potter. He was a brat, really, thought Fudge. Served him right to have a murderous godfather.

‘Sweet Jesus, what have we done?’ whispered one of the jury members behind Fudge. He knew their ruling before they responded to Middleton's call for a vote. Each witch and wizard voted to absolve Black of all responsibility for his crimes.

‘Will the defendant rise?’ Black did, on shaking legs. ‘We recommend that all charges against you be dropped. You will be confined to Hogwarts until such time as a formal decision has been reached. You may leave.’ Black was clutching the rim of the table, and fighting to maintain his balance, but he turned to walk formally out of the dungeon, looking at no one, still surrounded by his guards, including his werewolf friend.

Cornelius Fudge snorted with disgust as the conversations around him exploded with sound. How in the world would the Daily Prophet be able to put a positive spin on this?