Dead Men Don't Bleed

Chapter 5: Forgive Me, For I Have Sinned

Hermione spent less than ten minutes in the heptagonal room and then Ron was immediately whisked through the door.

"They only wanted me to corroborate Harry's story about Pettigrew," Hermione explained when Mr. Weasley asked her what had happened. "They didn't ask me any questions, only to confirm that I saw him."

It took Ron a bit longer to reemerge, while Harry sat with his arms between his knees, staring at the checkered floor. His head came up just enough to see Ron's face when a loud pop announced his arrival.

"They didn't ask me anything about Sirius," he said to his father. He dropped into the chair next to Harry. "Only Scabbers. I told them I saw Sirius in the Shrieking Shack anyway; not sure they even heard me."

"Mr. Weasley?"

Harry's gaze swung up a little further. Inglebee stood just outside the naked door.

"Yes?" Mr. Weasley's eyebrows arched in surprise. Inglebee smiled.

"The Council requests your testimony."

"They asked me if you were here," Ron spoke up.

"The Council was prompted by your son's testimony," Inglebee explained formally, "to seek more information from another in the Weasley family. Will you consent?"

"Yes, of course," Mr. Weasley murmured. Inglebee nodded and stepped aside to allow him to go first, but before he turned, Mr. Weasley's gaze swept over Ron and Hermione, landing on Harry. "Don't leave the corridor."

"We won't," Hermione answered. Mr. Weasley smiled slightly and went through the doorway. Inglebee followed and then the closing door echoed around them; Hermione had already turned to Lupin. "What do you think that means?" she asked.

Lupin shook his head. "I don't know..."

"But it must be positive news, don't you think so?" she asked, leaning forward. "Focusing on Pettigrew like this. The whole thing is suspicious--that Scabbers disappeared when we saw Pettigrew and Sirius and they probably want Mr. Weasley to confirm that--"

"Hermione," Lupin's strained voice cut in. His face was paler than it had been all morning. "I don't know," he repeated quietly and Hermione flushed. Lupin tried to smile at her but it looked sickly. He went back to pacing. Harry saw Hermione exchanging glances with Ron, but neither of them spoke again. Harry went back to staring at the floor, his hands clenched tightly together.

It had to be good news, didn't it? Asking Ron questions about Pettigrew as well, instead of grilling him and Hermione about the truth in Harry's earlier statement. Maybe they had believed--

But Harry couldn't finish the thought. Even if they had believed him, it meant nothing. And maybe they only wanted to have reasonable proof that Pettigrew was the murderer.

So that they could believe Sirius had wanted revenge.

And even if Pettigrew hadn't died that night, could anything prove that the innocent bystanders hadn't gotten caught in the crossfire?

His hands twisted between his knees until it was painful. They were red; raw from the constant abuse throughout the day. How long would it take? Had they already decided if they would allow a Pensieve? Had they already decided not to?

Harry squeezed his fingers harder, concentrating on the tension it created along his arms, through his shoulders and the way it made his temples pound. Anything to drown everything else out.

"Remus Lupin?"

Harry looked up. Inglebee's voice was cooler, his expression guarded and lacking the friendly smile he'd given freely to the others.

Harry hadn't even noticed Mr. Weasley's return, but he was now frowning at Inglebee.

Lupin didn't say anything as he made his way over to the door. Inglebee stepped back. And Harry couldn't have said how the movement was different than when he'd allowed everyone else to precede him, but it was somehow. Lupin's mouth was drawn into a thin line and with his face absolutely expressionless, he crossed the threshold.

Inglebee waited until Lupin was all the way through, before following after him, that pleasant mouth curled in disgust.

It was silent in the corridor for a long time and then Hermione spluttered, "He's bigoted!"

Mr. Weasley rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "Yes," he said. "And I'm afraid that sort of reception is not unusual where Remus is concerned." He shook his head, as if clearing it and sat across from Harry. "How are you faring?" he asked quietly.

Harry shrugged and asked, "What did they ask you?"

"Simply to confirm Ron's timeline where Scabbers was concerned; when he came to our family and the last time I saw him." He glanced toward the door, sighed and added, "They do realize how unusual it is for a common rat to live as long as Scabbers did."

Harry nodded tightly. "Did they--" He swallowed, wanting very much to ignore the flare of hope in his chest, but he set his teeth and asked anyway, "Did they ask anything else?"

"No." Mr. Weasley rested against the back of his chair. "Except if Scabbers was missing a toe."

That's something.

Harry immediately quashed the stray thought. No longer able to sit still, he began walking the path that Lupin had set, keeping his gaze away from both the door and his friends.

He had no idea how much time passed before Lupin appeared in the hallway, but Ron was snoring softly in his chair and Hermione and Mr. Weasley were even beginning to nod off. Their heads jerked up as soon as the loud pop broke the silence.

Harry stopped walking, only because as soon as he saw Lupin's face, a tingling fear began to spread inward from his fingertips.

"Remus?" Mr. Weasley latched onto Lupin's arm. And even when Mr. Weasley had folded him into a chair, Lupin's arms and legs were trembling so violently that Harry felt nauseous just to look at him. "What's happened?"

Lupin shook his head.

Harry caught himself with the wall closest. "Sirius?" It was the only thing he could say, and his voice was so hoarse, it was barely recognizable. They hadn't. They couldn't have...

"No," Lupin said, in that strangled tone that had accompanied him the entire day. "No, he's all right. It was just..."

Harry closed his eyes, his entire body sagging its relief and he didn't even hear the rest of what Lupin said. Winding his fingers through his fringe until his nails dug into scalp, he took in deep breaths against his palm. Focusing on nothing else except the feel of the hot breath against his clammy palms.

Sirius is alive. He didn't allow himself to add anything to that thought.

He jumped when a hand settled on his shoulder. Mr. Weasley was there, his expression frozen somewhere between worry and relief.

"The Council is taking a break for one hour," he said once he settled on worry. "They have invited both you and Remus to join them when they reconvene."

Harry shook his head, like a bull mesmerized by the matador's cape. "What does that mean?"

"They didn't explain," Lupin said from where he was still slumped in his chair. "And they only allowed me because Augusta asked them to."

Trying to figure out what that might mean beyond a prejudice against werewolves, Harry said, "To watch the rest of the trial?" Even though, somehow this wasn't considered a trial.

"They wouldn't tell me anything." Lupin swallowed. "They spent most of their questions on our time at Hogwarts. And questions about why Peter might... join the Death Eaters."

"But that..."

"I don't know how seriously they took my answers," Lupin said, bitterness and apology in his voice. "I'm not certain I was of any use..." He stopped talking.

"They wouldn't have asked you if they didn't think your testimony would be useful," Hermione interjected softly. Lupin had no response.

"Do you want to go in, Harry?"

Harry dragged his eyes back to Mr. Weasley. There was only one answer. "Yes," he said quietly, and before he would have to see anyone's reaction to that, he turned sharply and took the seat farthest from the little group, his hands clenched once more on his lap and his eyes straight ahead.

They wouldn't call me in there to watch Sirius die. But even as Harry thought it, he didn't believe it.

oOoOo

Dementors were attacking him. But no matter how fast he ran, he couldn't get away. And all the while, Sirius stood a few paces back, watching with disappointment furrowing his brow. And no matter how loudly Harry called for him, his godfather didn't come.

He cowered on the floor as the Dementors' dark howls filled his ears. Making him tremble and shake.

Shaking hard enough to rattle his teeth.

"Harry."

The Dementors were calling his name now. He opened his mouth to scream but that same, worried voice escaped his own lips, "Harry!"

The Dementors and Sirius began to fade, and Harry's eyelids scraped eyeball as he dragged them open. Lupin's face was so close, Harry collided with the wall as he yanked himself backward. Lupin's lips hovered in a strange contortion while Harry struggled to reorient his brain to the long corridor and the unmarked door at the other end.

And Inglebee standing outside it, his hands clasped behind his back as if he intended to wait there all night.

"They're ready?" Harry swallowed several times, but found no saliva. Lupin nodded, that unnatural set still tilting his lips as he rose to his full height. Harry stood on shaky legs, not finding much circulation as he passed his friends and Mr. Weasley--all of them with heads flopped over in sleep.

"It's one o'clock," Inglebee volunteered cheerfully as Harry came closer. Harry stared at him, muddle-headed and not ready to understand how long they'd spent waiting in the corridor. Inglebee smiled and gestured for him to go through.

The door closed behind them without a comment for Lupin. The three of them walked quickly, with Harry setting the pace. Sirius was on the same dais, but this time he was sitting up straight, his eyes focused with intensity on the mouth of the corridor through which Harry entered. His shoulders didn't relax when he saw Harry.

He leaned forward as much as his guards would allow. There was fear in his grey eyes, tension pulling all of his features into a sharp mask as he followed Harry's progress to another dais along one of the walls. By the time Harry reached the small duo of stairs, his heart was pounding so loudly, he imagined he could hear its echo off the seven walls.

The heptagram was empty. And there were no white lines connecting the desks.

There was no one to stop him from going to Sirius--

"If you attempt to leave the dais," Inglebee said pleasantly, "the room will eject you immediately."

Harry turned sharply to the Ravenclaw, though there was no malice in his words. They weren't even a threat. Inglebee smiled at him again and said, "There are no consequences for speaking, even across the room. The Council will arrive shortly." He took his place on the outside of the heptagram, his casual stance deceiving no one.

Mrs. Longbottom and Remus were staring at him; Harry could feel their eyes even though he was looking at Sirius.

Sirius spoke first. "Harry, you don't need to be in here," he said, in a rasp that suggested he'd been talking for hours. Or denied water.

Squeezing the fabric at his knees in his each fist, Harry shook his head. "I want to."

"We have no idea what the Council intends to do next," Mrs. Longbottom said in a low voice, nearly as strained as Sirius'.

The words caused a riot in Harry's chest and he had to very carefully concentrate on staying in his seat. They weren't going to eject him.

"I want to stay." He watched Sirius straining against his shackles, trying to control his agitation and failing.

"Harry..." he whispered, but there was no time for anything else. Without a sound, or even a whisper of displaced air, the members of the Council appeared in their seats. Madame Bones raised her wand and drew an invisible heptagon. The white lines connected the desks once more.

Harry only noticed the other corridor leading into the room when a man in Azkaban stripes walked into the room, with Inglebee right behind, though when the guide had left, Harry couldn't have said. Inglebee gestured for the ragged man to step into the heptagram's field.

"Mr. Asparius-Jones," Madame Bones said in a solemn voice, "we are here today to determine whether Sirius Black was unfairly imprisoned. Do you intend to assist us in our determination?"

"Yes," the man said gruffly.

"Then we invite you sit," Madame Bones said, and just as it had for Harry, a chair appeared. "My name is Madame Bones. Have you been marked with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's Mark?"

Eyes wide, Asparius-Jones bobbed his head.

"May we see it?" Roggins asked.

Asparius-Jones swallowed so loudly it made Harry flinch. Without answering, the prisoner tugged his left sleeve up to his elbow. The Council took in the sight without as much as a twitch.

"When did you receive that, Mr. Asparius-Jones?" the regal wizard demanded.

"Jan-January of... nineteen seventy-seven."

"Are you certain?"

A quick bob of the prisoner's head.

"Have you witnessed any other wizards taking the Mark?" Roggins asked.

"Th-three."

"Whom?"

Asparius-Jones swallowed hard again, but then he lifted his chin and said in a high-pitched voice, "Severus Snape took it the same night I did. I only saw two others..." He licked his lips. "Bertram Greengrass and Peter Pettigrew."

"When?"

"July," Asparius-Jones said haltingly. "1981, the same year the--" His blue eyes darted around the room before he whispered, "--dark lord died."

"And you are certain it was Bertram Greengrass and Peter Pettigrew?" Madame Bones asked.

"Yeah." The prisoner smiled, but it faded just as quickly. "Pettigrew cried when it burned his skin."

Madame Bones regarded him for a long moment and then she pointed across the heptagram to Sirius. "Do you recognize that man?"

Harry stiffened, waiting without breath for the answer.

Asparius-Jones stared at Sirius, but he eventually shook his head. "No."

"Do you know who he is?" Roggins asked.

"Should I?"

No one answered.

"Thank you," Madame Bones finally said, "you may go."

The man's eyes grew large and he opened his mouth but the words were choked off even as he said them. He disappeared as if he'd never been there at all.

Harry stared at the empty chair. He had no idea if Asparius-Jones' testimony would help or hurt. The Council seemed intent on proving that Pettigrew was a Death Eater.

To prove Sirius' revenge, the maddening voice in Harry's head taunted.

"Mr. Dubois," Madame Bones broke through Harry's quest to shut the voices up. He focused and saw Inglebee and another man entering the room. A man with very large ears and a scar cutting through his face on a diagonal. "If you will proceed."

The scarred man acknowledged the order with a brisk nod and went to where Sirius was sitting. Sirius reared back, and just like Harry's had earlier, his head crashed into the wall behind. He didn't seem to notice and Harry realized as he watched his godfather with gritted teeth that the back of his own head was throbbing.

"The Council has asked me to extract your memories of the events concerning the thirty-first night of October, in the year1981," Dubois said. "If you will permit me?"

Sirius shifted his head until he found Harry's eyes. "Your parents," he whispered across the room, and nobody tried to stop him. "Don't look."

Tears prickled Harry's throat and sinuses; he jerked a nod. Sirius tried another smile, but the glittering tears in his eyes obscured it. Harry bit the inside of his cheek. Sirius closed his eyes and allowed his memory to be taken.

Dubois pulled the silvery tendril delicately from Sirius' temple, guiding it with sure-footed steps toward the boundary of the heptagram. With a flick of his wrist, the memory splashed the center of the heptagram. Harry flicked his eyes to Sirius again and then watched as the liquid spread slowly to cover the floor, only stopping when it reached the white lines. In the next instant, with a sensation like he was falling, Harry was outside, the cloak of night surrounding him, even though he was sitting in the exact same chair.

With all of the members of the Council--everyone who had been in the heptagonal room.

Sirius came into focus then, a much younger Sirius--the memory version, without Azkaban's deep lines marring his face, though there was fear in his eyes here too. His hair trailed behind him and Harry finally noticed that he was on a motorbike and that he was flying through the air. Harry watched, unable to stop staring as the motorbike roared and then Sirius was landing on a grassy lawn, jumping off and stumbling several time as he ran toward a door.

He burst through it, calling, "James!"

Without moving, Harry was following him through a kitchen and into a sitting room, where Sirius halted. "James..." A sob caught in Sirius' throat and Harry jammed his eyes shut. "James," Sirius whispered again, the pain ricocheting off of all of them. Harry heard his own squashed sob filling the room.

And Lupin's beside him.

There were other warbling noises and then a baby's shrill cry pierced the air. Harry opened his eyes, watching as Sirius sped up the stairs, all of the occupants of the heptagonal room following.

"Lily... my god... Harry... Harry, thank god..." Sirius stopped making sense then as he scooped the wailing toddler from his cot and cradled him against his chest. He rocked back and forth, his fingers carding gently through the tangled black hair.

Mesmerized, Harry stared at them. At his godfather holding him so gently, his nose buried in the baby's hair as Sirius rocked them, and his own tiny fists curled into Sirius' shirt as the wailing melted into hiccups.

"Shh... it's all right, love," Sirius crooned. "Everything is going to be all right... You're safe, love, you're safe... Sirius is here."

He gathered up a blanket from the cot and wrapped it around the little boy. "Come on, love," he whispered, "we need to get out of here..."

They made their way quickly to the backyard again, Sirius pausing in the parlour. His lips trembled as his eyes went back to the door--to James, Harry assumed but didn't look.

Sirius' arms tightened around his bundle with another muffled sob as he pivoted and hurried out. Just as he sat on the motorbike, Hagrid, with fat tears in his eyes, lumbered into the yard and the conversation and ensuing argument that he had once told Harry about, came to life. But this time, Sirius' pleas meant something altogether different.

"He belongs with me," Sirius said fiercely.

"Dumbledore's orders," the half-giant kept repeating stubbornly, no matter how many times Sirius argued, though he did look as though he regretted it.

"Why?" Sirius demanded. "He'll be safe with me."

Hagrid shook his head. "Dumbledore said 'arry was to go Lily's sister for now. Said 'e'd be safest there; said nothing can 'urt 'im."

Sirius pulled the little boy protectively into his chest. "Does he think someone is going to come after him?" he asked sharply.

"Dumbledore just said 'arry would be safe there for now."

Sirius searched the large face, the gentle eyes that no one could misread. Hagrid waited patiently. "All right," Sirius eventually breathed and Harry felt a cold knife stabbing his chest at the fateful words. "If Dumbledore thinks it's best for now," Sirius said quietly, a warble still in his voice. "And if he thinks we can make Harry safe, I want to help."

Hagrid nodded in relief. Sirius shifted little Harry in his arms. "You hear that, Harry?" he whispered softly. "Hagrid is going to take you somewhere safe. Just until I can make certain you'll always be safe, all right, love?"

The little boy babbled, and tears shone in Sirius' eyes. "I'll come right back," he promised. "Hagrid will take care of you... Love you," he said softly as he pressed a kiss to the rosy cheek.

Watching the memory unfold, Harry dug his nails into his knees, struggling futilely to keep his face from crumpling. He lost the struggle as soon as Sirius transferred his younger self into Hagrid's arms and the toddler began to wail.

"It's all right," Sirius told him hoarsely. "I'll be right there... Take my motorbike," he croaked to Hagrid. "I won't need it."

Hagrid looked down at him with dubious eyes. "You sure?"

"Take it," Sirius rasped. He reached out a gentle hand, caressed it over Harry's fringe as Hagrid lowered his bulk onto the bike's seat. "Be careful with him."

The little Harry continued to howl his displeasure as Hagrid revved the engine and rose up off the ground. Sirius watched the motorbike until it was out of sight, his hand over the lower half of his face, his body trembling in the late October night.

As soon as they were gone, he turned on the spot. Harry and the others swam along with him through the kaleidoscope of colors until another room solidified around them. It was bare, with furniture well-worn but tidy.

"Remus?" Sirius called hoarsely as soon as he solidified. Beside Harry, Lupin made a sound that could only be called a whimper, but Harry couldn't tear his eyes from his godfather's memory.

Hesitant footsteps rustled down the stairs in the middle of the room. Sirius' face immediately changed and with minimal movements, he had drawn his wand.

"Sirius," Pettigrew squeaked as he thrust his empty hands into the air, "it's only me!"

Sirius' wand arm tensed. "Who did you give James' address to?" he asked shakily. Peter had paled but he shook his head.

"Padfoot, I-I don't know what you mean."

Sirius' face twisted with fury. "They're dead!" he cried. "James and Lily are dead and I know it was you, Peter! You were their Secret Keeper! Who did you tell? Tell me!"

A bead of sweat slipped into Harry's eye and he didn't see the spell Pettigrew cast, but he heard it, heard the reverberating, "Confringo!" The spell missed Sirius, reducing the couch to splinters instead.

"Impedimenta!" Sirius shouted but Pettigrew had already scrambled down the stairs. Sirius' next curse nearly caught his shoulder but he swerved at the last second and burst through a door. Sirius swore violently and ran after him, dodging another misaimed Confringo as he pursued his friend down an empty street lined with small houses. Pettigrew took a sharp turn around a store front at the end of the well-kept neighborhood and instead of resuming the chase, Sirius turned on the spot, Disapparated with a pop and reappeared just in front of Pettigrew.

A lady screamed as Sirius materialized from nothing. Neither man seemed to notice the bystanders as most of them fled. Sirius hurled a Leg-locking Curse at Pettigrew. Pettigrew scrambled away, shouting as he ran, "Murderer! You killed them, Sirius! Your own best friends! Murderer!"

Sirius' face crumpled in confusion, and the distraction was enough. Harry watched in horror as Pettigrew fired a Bone-ripping Curse into the crowd of dumbstruck gawkers. Sounds of flesh tearing from bones and the bones themselves as they were shorn in half.

Blood was spilling into the street.

Harry retched, closing his eyes on the carnage. A high-pitched laugh made him open them again. Pettigrew pointed his wand at his own finger, and with a screeched word, it tore away from the knuckle and fell to the ground, rolling to a stop in front of Sirius' black boot.

Sirius, eyes glassy and mouth gaping, stared at it, not even looking up as Pettigrew spat, "Pulsus!" As if a club had been rammed into his stomach, Sirius' eyes rolled back into his head and he doubled over with a low grunt as the street around them began to melt.

Pettigrew's face, and Sirius'--the blood... All of it swirled together and Harry sucked in a breath as he saw the heptagram in front of him again. No one spoke, and Harry immediately sought his godfather's eyes. Sirius' head was bowed, his shoulders quaking.

"Mr. Dubois," Madame Bones said, and for the first time, she didn't sound composed. Her monocle was dangling from her fingers.

"Yes, Madame?" Dubois queried unevenly.

Madame Bones straightened her shoulders. She replaced the monocle and said in her usual deep tone, "You are prepared with Veritaserum?" At Dubois' nod, Bones said to the Aurors, "Escort the prisoner to the heptagram."

Sirius brought his head up at the Aurors' sharp nudge. His chains clinked loudly as he shuffled down the stairs. When his eyes met Harry's, he lowered them quickly and Harry could easily read the shame in every line of his body. Harry clenched his fists, wanting to tell his godfather that he had nothing to be ashamed of. He felt a rush of hatred for the Council for making him endure this.

And for the scowling Aurors who shoved Sirius over the heptagram's boundary.

Sirius stumbled, only managing to catch himself enough to leave him on his knees--tangled chains kept him from rising.

"Put out your tongue, if you would," Dubois said, his body twitching with his unease.

An unfathomable, sorrowful sound escaped Sirius' lips but he did as he was bid. Dubois leaned only an arm over the boundary line and put three drops of a clear liquid on Sirius' tongue.

"What is that?" Harry demanded before he could stop himself. Madame Bones glanced at him and didn't answer.

"It will compel Sirius to answer all of their questions truthfully," Lupin muttered. Harry noticed for the first time that his former professor's eyes were red, even though Lupin continued to stare straight ahead.

"Mr. Black," Madame Bones' voice filled the room, "we are here to determine if you were unfairly imprisoned. Do you intend to assist us in our determination?"

"Yes," Sirius gasped, as if he were in acute pain. Harry leaned forward, hurting even more than he had when Sirius had left the Weasleys' yard.

"Were you the Potter's Secret Keeper?"

"I was for a time," Sirius answered in a whisper. "James and Lily..." His jaw trembled. "They switched to Peter."

"Peter whom?" Roggins asked.

"Pettigrew..."

"Why?"

Sirius shook his head as tears burned his eyes. "I thought they would be safer. I was a target."

"Are you a Death Eater?"

"No!"

The Council sat still, unmoved by the harsh denial. Before they could ask him to, Sirius yanked his sleeve up, revealing pale skin and nothing more.

"Did you intend revenge on Peter Pettigrew when you found James Potter's body?"

The 'no' was barely audible.

Roggins leaned forward. "Did you want to kill him?"

Sirius' face convulsed. He closed his eyes. "Yes," he whispered. Harry's heart plummeted at that. He sat up straighter and ignored the feeling.

Roggins nodded once. "Did you kill him, Mr. Black?"

Sirius shook his head and said just as quietly, "No."

"Do you wish you had?"

Sirius didn't answer for a long time. "No," he finally breathed.

"Why not?" the witch with the missing finger asked in surprise.

Sirius opened his eyes. He looked straight at Harry as he said, "I wouldn't have done anything to risk being able to keep Harry. I fully intended to go back there as soon as I retrieved Remus and went to Dumbledore," he said quickly. "I never would have left you with Hagrid if I had known what was going to happen, Harry. You have to believe that. I never would have let him take you to those wretched people. Please believe me..."

His voice had lost its strength, petering out to another shallow gasp.

Harry swallowed. "I know," he said as clearly as he could, which wasn't very clearly at all.

"Mr. Black," Madame Bones said quietly and Sirius reluctantly dragged his eyes back to her. "Did any of your spells hit innocent bystanders during your duel with Peter Pettigrew?"

"No," he said through a throat that was going to give out at any moment.

Madame Bones gazed at him for a long minute. "Council of Seven," she murmured and stretched her arms out as if trying to reach those inquisitors closest. The others around the heptagram did the same, palms facing toward the ceiling as they closed their eyes.

None of them spoke. And Harry had no idea how long he sat there. How long Sirius waited on his knees. And just when Harry knew he could no longer stand it, the inquisitors opened their eyes and the fourteen arms returned to their desks.

"We have been summoned here today," Madame Bones said so that her voice filled the room, "to determine if Sirius Black was unfairly imprisoned, through whatever means the Council deemed appropriate."

"I have prepared several other witnesses--" Mrs. Longbottom began but Madame Bones cut her off with a raised palm.

"No further evidence is needed," she said quietly. "We have made our decision."

A decision? How had they made a decision so quickly?

They hadn't even asked many questions. Dread spread quickly through Harry's body, numbing him.

They have to believe him.

He gripped the edges of his chair as he leaned forward as far he could, his eyes boring into Madame Bones, waiting without any patience for her to continue.

Please believe him.

"Sirius Black," Madame Bones went on, "by determination of the Council of Seven, you were unfairly imprisoned in 1981. And you are hereby exonerated of all charges against you and are free to leave at your leisure."

Harry's slick palms slipped from their hold and he fell to his knees in a painful imitation of Sirius.

Exonerated.

The word buzzed in the room, wrapping itself around him like cotton wool until Harry couldn't feel anything.

Sirius is free?

A roll of parchment appeared next to Sirius' knee. "Your godson is now your responsibility," Madame Bones added. "I suggest you contact a mind healer. Good luck to you both." And with that, the seven inquisitors vanished.

Sirius' chains had disappeared as well; it was the sound of parchment being scrunched in his fingers that reverberated off the walls now.

Dazed, Harry rose slowly to his feet as Sirius struggled to stand as well, watching through a fog as Remus hurried down the steps. Lead was in his feet as he walked the same path.

He watched Remus hugging Sirius, both of them grinning. And then Sirius turned to Harry, a huge, expectant smile on his face. He held out his arms, looking like his face might crack from the force of his happiness. And Harry couldn't move toward him. His face felt so stiff it hurt and he realized as he turned his fingers into fists that he had never been this angry.

Something in Sirius deflated then. Very slowly, his arms fell back to his sides.

Harry's chest rose and fell as he stared at his godfather. "How could you do that?" he hissed through clenched lips.

Sirius stepped toward him. "Harry--"

"No." And because he couldn't think of what else to say, Harry breathed, "I am so angry."

Sirius nodded, his face rigid. And paler even than it had been when Harry had met him under that fateful full moon. "I know," he whispered.

"They might have set the Dementors on you," Harry said, so harshly it burned his throat. "Sent you back to Azkaban at the very least!"

"I know--"

"You had no right to do that," Harry shouted. "Didn't even ask me!" Harry had a very violent urge to punch his godfather right in the jaw. His hands were even trembling and he could imagine the satisfaction.

"I'm sorry," Sirius said hoarsely. "I had to do something..."

"You didn't!" Harry knew he was screeching but he couldn't seem to stop himself. "I was fine with the Dursleys! I told you over and over that I was! You could have been killed!"

"I know--"

But Harry didn't care what Sirius knew. He took a furious step toward his godfather. Sirius stood his ground which only infuriated Harry further.

"They could have killed you the moment you arrived!" he shouted. "You could have been walking right into a trap!" Sirius didn't react and the shout had no recourse but to lapse into a pain-filled whisper. "You could have been killed," he breathed, "and then what would I do?"

Sirius swallowed. "I'm here now. I'm safe." He extended an arm, moving it slowly until Harry felt its solid weight against his shoulder. "I'm safe," Sirius repeated, ducking his head to meet Harry's eyes. "And you and I can go home."

You and I.

Harry blinked away the sudden moisture in his eyes, a wobbly nod all he could manage. Sirius' eyes were shining as he palmed the back of Harry's head and pulled him close. "Oy, Harry," he muttered. Whatever else he wanted to say was lost in the quiet as Harry wrapped his arms fiercely around him, his face smushed into a shoulder.

He listened to the frantic pace of his godfather's heart until it finally settled. And then he twisted his neck so that he could breathe again, waited until he could manage the words and then said quietly, "I can stay with you?"

"Yes," Sirius breathed through wet laughter. His arms tightened. "Yes," he said again. "Whatever we do now, we do together."