Innocence Lost and Found

‘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.’

Sirius wondered if he would be able to walk across the dungeon. He had done it before, many times, because this room was next to the Potions classroom and had therefore been a very good place for a quartet of mischievous teenagers to plan pranks. It had not seemed so large than as it did now. Still, somehow, he managed to cross the room, making eye contact with no one, not even Harry. The hit wizards who had been standing within wand's length of him since Fudge had discovered his true identity were still escorting him, and Remus was there, too, Sirius assumed. He was not about to turn around and check.

As soon as the procession had made its way through the doors, Remus broke away from the other guards and wrapped an arm around Sirius, who accepted the support with relief. ‘Get me out of here,’ he whispered as softly as he could, knowing that his desperation would make his voice carry.

‘Right. Come on.’ Remus tightened his grip and steered Sirius away from the path that would be taken by the trial attendees when they emerged. ‘We might have to climb straight up. Can you handle that?’

‘Yes! Just get me away!’

‘Okay, we're going. Here.’ Remus pulled a trapdoor down from the low ceiling of a short corridor. ‘Up. We have to get the door closed before they see us.’ Sirius scrambled upward, missing the physical support-- Remus had really been dragging him, he noted belatedly-- but finding new strength now that he was free from stares and questions and ponderings on his validity as a human being.

‘How far are we going?’

‘About four flights. You'll have to swing through a hole in a wooden platform. Climb onto the platform.’

‘Where are we?’

‘Now? We're in the wall of the main floor right above the Potions room. We're going to end up almost inside the Ravenclaw Tower, which, as I'm sure you know from your storied past, is set up almost exactly like Gryffindor Tower.’

‘Got it. I've been here before.’

‘It's not quite a secret room, but no one is likely to come up here. We can seal it, anyway, so that the students won't be able to get in.’

‘It was also in the right place at the right time. I have a new respect for this room.’

‘Try to respect the platform as well. Watch your head.’

‘Good idea.’ Sirius swung himself onto the narrow surface with rather more effort and rather less smoothness than was customary for him. Ducking his head slightly, he crept across the wooden planks to a loft which was suspended behind a dusty wall filled with cracks.

The room he had reached was a sharp contrast to the dust-covered former storage space he had just crawled through. It was clean and (once Remus entered and used his wand to light the candles) bright, and it contained several shelves of books, two plush chairs, and a matching couch onto which Sirius immediately threw himself. He buried his head in the cushions and mentally began to list the pros and cons of never moving again.

‘Padfoot?’ Remus' hand rubbed a circle on Sirius' back. ‘Is the Veritaserum bothering you?’ Sirius shook his head. ‘Are you trying to suffocate yourself?’

Sirius laughed in spite of himself, and sat up halfway. ‘No, I'm not trying to suffocate myself.’

‘How are you doing?’

‘That was awful,’ he explained simply.

‘It's over now, and you won't have to do it again.’

‘I know, but I may never show my face in public again anyway.’

‘Why not?’

‘You need a list?’

‘Yes.’

‘All right. A list. I cried while everyone in the room, including Severus Snape, was staring at me.’

‘One tear. Claim you had something in your eye and you couldn't move because the hit wizards would have taken you out.’

‘That's brilliant.’

‘Severus is the only person in the world who would ever profess to think less of you even if you'd been screaming and sobbing. And the fact is, he couldn't think less of you so it's irrelevant.’

‘The others wouldn't say they thought less of me, but I'd still rather not have been there--feeling like that-- with everyone looking at me.’

‘Were you looking at them?’

‘What? No.’

‘I was. And I can tell you that just about everyone other than Cornelius Fudge and Severus Snape was crying. They were whimpering when you talked about seeing James' body and they were sobbing when you gave your final statement. Did you work out that line about Harry being tall enough to put his chin on your shoulder beforehand? They really ate that up.’

‘Make it up beforehand? No, that was just last minute inspiration. Harry was there for that part. I hope he didn't mind.’

‘He was playing to the jury, did you see that?’

Sirius chuckled. ‘He was?’

‘Giving them pleading looks, catching their eyes one by one. He was very systematic about it.’

‘I guess it's hard to say no to the Boy Who Lived.’

‘I suspect it is, but I don't think he swung the jury. I think the evidence did, and you did.’

‘I just wish.’

‘Wish what?’

‘They hadn't brought in that go-between from Azkaban.’

‘The Ministry had to establish that you were the great Azkaban escapee.’

‘Did they have to establish that I tried to kill myself by drowning in my own blood?’ Remus' face became suddenly drawn, and this was not lost on Sirius. ‘See? How did that make you feel?’

‘Horrified. I knew you were tortured but I'd never heard any specifics.’

‘You want more?’

‘You want to tell me?’

‘No. I didn't even want you to know that.’

‘I understand that you need privacy, and space, but that one incident is hardly enough for you to lock yourself in this room for all eternity.’

‘Maybe not.’ Sirius finally straightened up all the way, and Remus sat beside him, still looking at him as if concerned and giving his shoulder a caress as he sat down. Sirius shuddered in response, and then slackened, as if all of the muscles in his body had suddenly relaxed. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, and Remus rested a hand on the back of Sirius' neck-- something of a holdover from their time spent in canine form.

They remained in unmoving silence until the fireplace that stood behind the couch sprang to life with a wheeze, as if it had not been opened for many years. ‘Remus? Sirius?’ The familiar, but slightly thicker than usual, voice of Minerva McGonagall entered the room. Remus climbed over the back of the couch to face her.

‘How did you know where we were?’

‘An interesting map was left in our possession at the end of last year.’

Remus cringed jokingly. ‘Are you going to tell us off again?’

‘Not right now. Not at all, but you might eventually be called upon to explain how it works.’

‘All right. As long as you don't take points from Gryffindor.’

‘Or make us polish the trophies,’ Sirius added, clambering over the couch himself.

McGonagall laughed, albeit not in a very carefree manner. ‘Congratulations, Sirius.’

‘Thank you,’ he answered awkwardly.

‘Most of the Hogwarts staff who attended your trial missed the feast, so we're having a smaller version in a few minutes. If either or both of you feel like coming down and joining us, you're more than welcome. Harry and his friends and a few of Ron's siblings are coming as well. If you'd rather not, we'll have some food sent to you, and in any case,’ she reached behind herself and produced a bottle ‘here is the antidote for the Veritaserum, unless you'd like to remain entirely truthful. I also have the wand you've been using, Sirius.’ She handed both objects through the fire. ‘You'll get your original wand back sometime after the Ministry gets through making its decision official.’

‘If the Ministry makes its decision official,’ Sirius modified.

‘There were too many people at that trial, Sirius. The evidence can't be ignored now that it's out in the open.’ Sirius shot his former professor a rather dubious glance as he swallowed the Veritaserum antidote and tucked the wand into his belt. ‘Are the two of you coming down?’ Sirius and Remus exchanged a look, and Sirius decided that he had to start showing his face sooner or later.

‘Yes,’ Remus answered firmly. ‘We'll be there in ten minutes or so.’

As they entered the Great Hall, they scanned the assembled group for Harry. Predictably, they found his dark head amidst a sea of flaming orange that announced the presence of the four youngest Weasley siblings as well as their parents. Harry saw Sirius and Remus almost as soon as they saw him, and he rose in greeting.

As he walked across the Great Hall to see his godfather and Remus privately, if just for a moment, Harry celebrated the fact that he was feeling slightly relaxed for the first time since he had arrived at Hogwarts hours before. First there had been the strain of meeting Professor McGonagall and wondering whether she was going to hug him or put him in detention until he graduated. (Harry was not sure which would have been worse.) There had been the unfortunate incidence of Minister Fudge seeing Sirius, which had turned out to be a blessing in disguise after a very long, stressful trial. And in between, he had met his friends for the first time in what felt like years.

He had not been able to see Ron or Hermione in the Great Hall when he had first arrived with Professor McGonagall, who had gone off to see to the new first years immediately. However, he had soon caught sight of George and forced his way through the crowd to him.

‘George?’

‘Harry?’ The disbelief in George's voice was such that Harry instantly reprimanded himself for calling him by name; after all, this might be Fred. Not even Ron could tell his twin brothers apart every time he tried. Usually, voice was the best way to tell one from the other, but this voice sounded as if it belonged to neither twin.

‘Sorry--’

‘Sorry? What in the name of-- oh, you guessed right, I'm George. Is that what you were worried about?’ He did not let Harry answer before continuing. ‘Don't be stupid. Sometimes Mum can't tell us apart, and if she doesn't have to, you certainly don't. And we don't make it easy, either. We could cut our hair different ways or something. But that's not the-- are you all right?’

‘I'm fine. Where are--’

‘This way.’ George was already dragging Harry along. ‘I was the token Weasley representative out here-- Ron's practically catatonic. He'd be all the way there if he wasn't so worried about Hermione. And Gin-- hey!’ George's fingers suddenly brushed against the cool, hard badge pinned to Harry's chest. ‘You're a--’

‘Yes.’ Harry tore the badge from his robes and shoved it into the pocket of the jeans he was wearing beneath them. ‘Don't tell anyone just yet, okay?’

‘Yeah, fine. But he's really not going to-- never mind. I wouldn't want to show a prefect's badge to Mum, either. She made a huge fuss over Hermione, and that was a foregone conclusion if anything ever was. Oh, here we are.’ George shoved the door of a small room usually used to hold visitors awaiting a student open without knocking. Six heads, five of them red, snapped up. ‘Look what I found,’ George announced. Before he had finished speaking, Hermione had thrown herself at Harry, and he hugged her back, whispering that he was sorry for worrying her. She was obviously crying, and probably would have bolted from the room had she not known that she had no way of doing so without instantly confronting the crowds in the Great Hall.

Harry locked eyes with Ron over Hermione's head, and began to mouth an apology to him, too, but Ron brushed it off with a glance. As soon as Hermione gathered herself together slightly and backed away, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry as well.

The first words spoken above a whisper were Ron's: ‘Well, since Harry's here, let's go in to the feast, shall we?’ Mrs. Weasley looked scandalized, but Fred, George, and Harry all grinned. Harry felt a renewed surge of gratitude toward Ron, who quite obviously had risked a glare from his mother to take the extremely awkward edge off of the impromptu meeting.

‘Oh! Have we missed the Sorting?’ asked Hermione, who now looked almost entirely recovered.

‘Not yet,’ answered George. ‘But we will if we stay here much longer.’

Their decision was made, but before they reached the door it swung open from the outside. A nervous-looking third year whom Harry vaguely suspected was in Ravenclaw glanced around. ‘Mr. Weasley?’

‘Yes?’ Ron's father answered kindly.

‘Cornelius Fudge is upstairs in Professor Dumbledore's office. He asked to see you?’

‘Why, oh, never mind. I suppose I'll go see him, then.’ He and his wife followed the Ravenclaw from the room, and the twins and Ginny left right after them, George obviously herding Ginny and Fred away from the three friends.

‘We should go, too,’ Hermione said. ‘I'm a prefect-- don't roll your eyes, Ron!’

‘Yes, Perce,’ he answered.

‘There are worse people I could be like than Percy. He was Head Boy, and there's nothing wrong with my wanting--’

‘About that,’ Harry interrupted, knowing all too well that when Hermione and Ron started a conversation like this one they would continue for hours or until they had decided to stop speaking to each other.

‘About Hermione's being Head Boy?’ asked Ron guilelessly.

‘Almost right but completely wrong. When I came here, I came through the passage from Honeydukes, and McGonagall found me in the hall.’

‘Why weren't you on the Express?’ asked Ron.

‘I'll explain later. There's something I want to tell you right now. After McGonagall got through telling off Remus and Sirius for knowing about the secret passages and for the whole unregistered animagus thing--’

‘They're here? They told about the passages?’ asked Ron.

‘Remus?’ asked Hermione.

‘Ooo, you're on a first-name basis with a professor. Hermione's jealous. Be glad it wasn't Lockheart.’

‘They're here and they told,’ said Harry before Hermione could retort. ‘That's not the point right now. McGonagall took me into this office and said, she said 'this doesn't go beyond these walls--'’

‘Harry, do you know what 'not beyond these walls' means?’ questioned Hermione.

‘She could have meant beyond the castle walls,’ defended Ron. ‘Go on.’

‘One thing she said was that Hermione's practically Head Girl already.’ Hermione gasped.

‘Good. Now she won't be able to talk for the rest of your story.’ Hermione favored Ron with a slap to the shoulder, but he only grinned. ‘What else did she say?’

‘She said that Malfoy will probably be Head Boy.’

‘WHAT? That slimy git, he can't be Head Boy! Everyone hates him but the Slytherins, and for a good reason, too! He'll go around encouraging people to attack Muggle-borns, and Hermione's going to have to work with him!’

‘That was my thought, too. And McGonagall doesn't seem to wanted it any more than we do.’

‘She'll have to hear Snape gloat.’

‘Exactly.’

‘But she had an idea. She said that there was someone who had a chance of taking Head Boy from Malfoy.’

‘You.’ It was a statement, not a question.

‘Well, yes. But to be considered I'd have to be a prefect.’ Harry withdrew the badge from beneath his robes. ‘Do you think I should accept?’

‘Haven't you already? You have the badge.’

‘Yes, but I can change my mind.’

‘Are you going to?’

‘Should I?’

‘It's not my decision.’

‘I thought you might have something to say. I always ask for your opinion.’

‘You'd just like to know if I'm about to stop speaking to you.’

‘No! Er, I mean. No.’

‘Uh-huh. Listen, I don't think you should let Malfoy be Head Boy without a fight. For the sake of all Gryffindors. And Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, too.’ Harry nodded. ‘I might not like everything about you both being prefects, but . . . .’ Ron trailed off embarassedly.

Harry, trying to avoid the tension the conversation with Ron had created, he turned to Hermione. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think.’ She still seemed to be stumbling on her words, a situation which was very much a rarity for Hermione. ‘I'd rather you be Head Boy than Draco. But isn't it awfully unusual for there to be two prefects in the same house and the same year?’

Harry shrugged. ‘It happened with my parents.’

‘Oh, of course it did.’ She paused uneasily. ‘Want to see the Sorting, then?’ They did, naturally, and they entered the Great Hall just as the Sorting began. They attempted to move quietly toward the Gryffindor table, but, despite the rather large distraction of the ceremony, heads turned and mouths whispered.

Fred, George, and Ginny were sitting together and had saved the seats across from themselves for Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who took them gratefully, applauding as the Sorting Hat pronounced the newest Gryffindor.

The Sorting was relaxing for Harry, Ron, and Hermione if not for the first years who were being sorted. It was over quickly, and the tables filled with food after a quick command from Dumbledore, who promptly hurried off. They had barely begun to eat, let alone speculate on Dumbledore's hasty retreat, when Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff in their year, hurried over to talk to Hermione. ‘They called the new prefects up when you weren't in here,’ she said hastily. ‘They're having us meet tomorrow right before breakfast instead of this evening. The passwords were chosen on the train, but you weren't in the prefects' car-- I guess you knew that.’

‘Yes,’ Hermione agreed. ‘Thanks, Susan.’

Susan smiled and turned to leave, but then she caught sight of Harry's badge. ‘You're a prefect, too?’ she asked. ‘I didn't see you on the list.’

‘It was a last-minute thing,’ Harry admitted.

‘Congratulations, then.’

‘You, too.’

‘Thank you. I was sure that if they made a Hufflepuff in our year prefect it would be Justin. Maybe they just didn't want Hermione to be the only girl.’

‘No, you deserve it, Susan,’ said Harry sincerely. He only knew Susan from Herbology, a class which Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs tended to have together, but he had always liked her. At least, he had liked her since their second year, when many of the Hufflepuffs had decided that Harry was the heir of Slytherin and that he had been attacking students, including Justin Finch-Fletchley. Susan had not been one of his accusers, even if she had kept a safe distance. Harry much preferred people who were able to think for themselves to people who did what Ernie Macmillan told them to do-- although he liked Ernie himself well enough.

Susan nearly blushed. ‘You'll probably be the one who has to calm the whole hall down, with this rumor.’

‘Which rumor?’

‘It hasn't reached the Gryffindor table yet?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘People are saying that Sirius Black broke into the school today, and that Cornelius Fudge is here to give him a trial down in one of the dungeons.’

Harry tried to laugh as if that were the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard, but as soon as Susan had rejoined her own table, he was on his feet.

‘You don't think it's true?’ asked Ron.

‘Fudge is here and wanted to see your Dad. Dumbledore ran off as soon as he opened the feast. Sirius is here,’ Harry explained out of the corner of his mouth. Ron and Hermione stood, too, grabbing whatever bits of the feast could be easily carried to the dungeons. They did not want to take the time or the risk of running to Gryffindor Tower to collect the invisibility cloak, so they did a great deal of ducking and dodging before they were able to get to the Potions classroom.

‘Never thought I'd be coming in here voluntarily,’ Ron muttered.

They found that however painful their associations with the room might be, it was very convenient just then. They were able to eavesdrop on some of the proceedings thanks to a few tricky spells Hermione had picked up from their new Charms book. Soon enough, though, an assistant astronomy professor entered the room and almost shouted that the castle was being searched for them; they had to testify. The testimony had been simple but nerve-wracking.

Now Sirius stood before Harry in the virtually empty Great Hall, quite probably a free man.

‘Hi,’ said Harry.

‘Hi. Nice testimony.’

‘I wish I could have said more.’

‘So I gathered from the way you tried to work the jury.’

‘You weren't even looking at me.’

‘No, but I have my sources.’ Sirius and Remus smiled tiredly.

They arrived at the food-laden table just as another figure arrived from the other side. It was Professor Trelawny. Harry suppressed a groan, but she was quiet for most of the meal; in fact, most everyone was quiet, probably out of fear of upsetting Sirius, who did not look at all upset. Even Mrs. Weasley refrained from inquiring further about how Sirius might have happened to break her youngest son's leg. Harry and the Weasely brothers filled the empty space with discussions about Quidditch.

As the various diners began to stand, Professor Trelawny turned to Sirius. Harry and Remus, who were sitting beside him, both cringed. ‘You have the aura of caring very much about Harry. I wish you well,’ she said breathily, and then glided from the room.

Hermione snorted. ‘I really must have a mundane mind. I could only tell that Sirius cared about Harry because he hid out in a cave and lived on rats just to be close to him,’ she muttered to Ron, who grinned.

‘You have a mundane mind?’ asked Sirius, who had caught the comment.

‘Hopelessly mundane.’ Hermione nodded after Professor Trelawny. ‘She said so.’

‘Oh. I don't know why I didn't notice.’

Suddenly, Hermione grinned. ‘Could you go into your Grim form and follow her around for a couple of days?’

‘Hermione--’ began Remus, but he broke off as if trying not to laugh. They small group had been attempting to converse in low tones, but now all of those assembled seemed to be listening.

‘Amusing as that might be, Miss Granger, I don't believe you should pester him or encourage him,’ said Professor McGonagall crisply. She was obviously trying not to laugh herself.

‘I'm sorry, Professor.’

‘Don't apologize.’

‘No, don't, Miss Granger,’ added Dumbledore. ‘But we do have a-- er-- more productive suggestion for Sirius.’ Sirius raised questioning eyes to the headmaster, who was ushering the students, and a good number of the faculty members, away. When they were almost alone, he spoke again. ‘And for Remus as well. Since you used your free time as students here in such an interesting manner, we thought that you might like to continue.’

‘Continue in what way?’

‘I would like the two of you to see if you can find some more secret passages. We can't afford to have real Death Eaters sneaking into the castle. And as Sirius was sentenced to remain here until he is formally exonerated, it seems to me to be a very convenient situation.’

‘We'd be honored,’ answered Sirius. ‘But there are a few things I'd like to get done first. Tonight or tomorrow morning.’

‘And what would those be, if you don't mind my asking?’

‘I'd like to go to Remus' house and get the paperwork we left there. There's also a . . . pet . . . that may have survived the Death Eaters' little raid.’

Dumbledore nodded sagely. ‘Are you sure you want to go yourself?’

‘Yes.’ Sirius had never been more sure of anything in his life. A brief trip alone was sounding very tempting.

‘Well, then, I suggest you make plans to do so. But make sure you are not seen. I'd hate to look like an incompetent jailer.’

Sirius agreed, and, in the early hours of the next morning he Apparated to Remus' house. It had not been destroyed, as James' house had been so long ago, only searched and ransacked. Sirius found the paperwork, which had remained well-hidden, and went outside to whistle for Buckbeak. He was pleased when the hippogriff came ambling towards him, apparently unharmed. ‘We've got to get you somewhere safe, Buckbeak,’ he said as he bowed and then climbed aboard the beautiful animal. ‘You can't come where I'm going.’ He could, however, go to one of the beautiful islands Sirius had found when they had first escaped together. No one would disturb him there.

The flight was rather uneventful, and also rather long. As Sirius patted Buckbeak good-bye and promised to visit, though, he suddenly became aware that they were not, as he had thought, alone. He strained to hear the nearby voices.

‘Yes . . . people inside the Ministry . . . we'll call it a field trip . . . he won't be the Boy Who Lived anymore!’

This was worth delaying his return to listen to.