A Sirius Affair

A SIRIUS AFFAIR

Chapter 12

Preparations

Harry apparated to the landing outside Ginny's flat with a spray of various summer flowers. Ginny answered the door with her hair wet, wearing a green knit summer dress and leather sandals. "Hi, you're early! Come on in - just let me finish getting ready." Ginny pulled him inside as they exchanged a quick kiss.

"I actually finished up early today for a change, thought your Mum might like these," Harry said as he gestured with the flowers.

"Of course. I thought for a moment they might actually be for me," Ginny said with a smile.

"Oh. . . . .erm . . . sorry. I should have bought two bunches, shouldn't I? I guess I'm not so good at being a boyfriend yet. My last fling didn't really involve many 'dates' so to speak," Harry stammered awkwardly.

"I won't even ask," she said as she left the room to finish with her hair.

Harry wandered around the flat. The kitchen counter was strewn with magazines, newspapers, and reams of parchment. Her sketchbook was open on the table by the couch with a pencil nearby. She was sketching what looked like a typical London wizarding street with offices, shops, and street vendors. One of the street vendors was a newsstand with various magazines displayed. A sign in one of the windows read "Weasley Publications."

"Okay, I'm all set. We'd better be going. Mum always hassles me if I'm late," Ginny called.

"Will Percy or George be there?"

"Nope, just us. George is off on a buying trip and Percy is working, as usual. We'll be the center of attention," Ginny said with a laugh.

"Oh.... what I live for: being the center of attention," Harry said sarcastically. "This is suddenly sounding like a test of my fortitude."

"Come on, you know they consider you just another of their sons. Why should you be nervous?"

"This is the first time I've seen them since I started sleeping with their daughter. It kind of changes the dynamic, don't you think?"

Ginny laughed again. "Well, don't worry, Mum has been anticipating this since I was 10 years old."

"That's exactly what makes me nervous!"

"Well, I don't imagine she's sent out the wedding invitations yet so stop worrying," Ginny murmured as she leaned up to kiss him. Harry laughed nervously but kissed her back.

They apparated to the Burrow and went directly into the kitchen. Molly Weasley was supervising the meal preparation. Her wand was directing one set of knives slicing peppers and another peeling potatoes. They all clattered to the counter when she spotted Harry and Ginny.

"Harry! Welcome home!" Molly cried, approaching Harry with her arms open wide.

Harry and Ginny threw each other a glance as Harry stepped forward to embrace Mrs. Weasley. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley."

"You could just start calling me Mum now," Molly said with a wink at Ginny.

"Really, Mum!" Ginny said impatiently.

"Oh, I guess that is getting a bit ahead of ourselves, isn't it?"

"Just a bit, Mum. Where's Dad?" Ginny asked.

"He's out tinkering in that garage of his. Ginny, give me a hand in here with the table. Harry, why don't you go and tell Arthur it's almost time to eat," Molly directed.

"Sure," Harry said as he exited quickly out the kitchen door, very relieved to be able to go speak with Mr. Weasley.

As soon as he was gone, Ginny launched a preemptive strike. "Mum, Harry and I have only been together for a few weeks. I don't want you to mention anything about marriage, family, or long-term commitment. We aren't nearly ready for that," she said firmly.

"Ginny, I would never embarrass you or Harry like that," Molly replied innocently, gathering up the plates and silverware and carrying them to the table.

"Oh yes you would, Mum, and you know it," Ginny teased as she took the silverware from her Mum and began laying out the forks.

"Well, isn't that what you want? Why shouldn't I want to see the two of you together, married, with loads of children?"

"Because we aren't nearly to that point. Neither of us is ready for that sort of discussion. I haven't decided yet what I want, and it isn't necessarily Harry and a load of children. That's what dating is for, isn't it?" Ginny asked, fixing the napkins by the plates.

"It's not like you have to get to know one another. You've been friends for years after all."

"There's a difference between being friends and being . . . .," Ginny hesitated, having nearly said 'lovers,' but rapidly reconsidered, ". . . . and dating."

"Yes, but in my experience, friends generally make the best lovers."

"Mother!" Ginny said, surprised at the fact that her mother was referring to them as lovers, when she was hesitant to use that word.

"You are nearly 21. Surely you don't assume that I think you haven't slept with anyone yet?" Molly probed gently.

"Well . . . yes, I rather did. I've never given you that impression, have I?"

"No, but do you think your father and I don't talk when we are concerned about you? You were nearly living with Grant, after all. What did you think I would think when I got your Sunday morning note by Grant's owl?"

"Um . . . I don't know . . .," Ginny stammered.

"Don't worry, I won't let on to Harry that I know anything more than you've told me. Dating. That's fine. But a Mum can dream, can't she?"

"I suppose. Just don't belabor the point during dinner, all right?" Ginny pleaded.

"All right, all right. I promise to behave," Molly said as she gave her daughter a motherly hug and kiss on the forehead.

*****************

Arthur Weasley's garage was a small white-washed building that looked only slightly larger than a garden shed. Harry knocked on the door. "Is that you Harry? Come on in," Arthur called out. Harry wasn't terribly surprised to see that the interior of Mr. Weasley's garage could have easily held three muggle cars. It was a vision of organised chaos with various muggle appliances stacked to the ceiling and collections of all sorts of accessories distributed about the place in small baskets and bins.

"Hallo, Mr. Weasley, what are you playing with today?" Harry asked.

"I think you're old enough to call me Arthur now, don't you think?"

"All right," Harry replied, relieved he hadn't insisted on wanting to be called Dad.

There was a work bench in the center of the madness where Mr. Weasley was perched on a tall work stool fiddling with a cordless phone. Beside him was a muggle fax machine and across the bench was a small microwave oven. Harry wandered through the garage, picking things up at random and setting them down again. Arthur spoke excitedly about this amazing thing that only needed one wire. Harry contributed what he knew about some of the objects and gradually wandered back to the bench and began to fiddle with the buttons on the fax machine. Arthur seemed to be absorbed in removing the guts of the receiving end of the handset, and the conversation lulled for a stretch.

"I hear Sirius is in a spot of trouble again," Arthur said quietly at last.

"Yes. Seems he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. A lot of people are taking advantage of his previous reputation to blame him for this unfortunately," Harry said in a discouraged tone.

"He's missing again, right?"

"Yes," Harry said vaguely.

"Do you know where he is? No . . . don't answer that. You need to know and I don't," Arthur stated firmly. "Is there going to be a trial this time?"

"I hope so. He deserves to have his voice heard for a change."

"Does he have counsel?"

"I'm trying to get Daniel Stanfordshire."

"He's rather good, but from what I hear, he doesn't take on that many cases," Arthur observed.

"Yes, I am having a bit of trouble convincing him."

"Good luck on that," Arthur said turning his attention to the fax machine. "They say these things can send parchment faster than an owl . . . almost instantaneously even . . . know anything about them?"

Harry explained all he knew about fax machines and began circling the garage again.

After a bit, Arthur returned to the topic of Sirius. "Will he be tried for Pettigrew as well as this other man . . . what was his name again?"

"Peregrine. I'll have to see what Stanfordshire has to say . . . if he agrees to the representation that is. I would like to see Sirius have a chance to completely clear his name, and this might be his best opportunity," Harry mused.

"What do you reckon his chances are?" Arthur asked.

"I really can't venture a guess. I'm afraid I don't know much about the legal system. What would you think?" Harry countered, coming back to stand in front of the workbench.

Arthur shook his head ruefully. "Hard to say, Harry. Those who know the truth are either dead or unwilling to risk their own necks. Is he going to show up for the trial, if there is one?"

"I'll defer to Stanfordshire's advice on that. If it isn't required, I would think he'd stay away. That way he still has a chance if he isn't acquitted."

"It will make a difference, particularly if it's a jury trial. I've sat in on a number of those trials over the years. You don't want him to seem like a coward for hiding and not having the guts to face the charges."

"Sirius is no coward," Harry said vehemently.

"No, I know he isn't, Harry. It's just the perception the jurors may take away. If there is a chance he might win, he should be there. It might be enough to sway an undecided juror. Given his reputation for escaping justice this long, he's not going to get any extra brownie points by staying away."

"Justice?" Harry chuckled cynically. "He hasn't had much justice in his life, has he?"

"No, I don't suppose he has."

"Would you show up, given his treatment to date by the Ministry?"

"I'd be quite hesitant. I'm certainly glad I'm not in his shoes," Arthur said evasively, changing the subject quickly, "How are things going with Ginny?"

"Great! She's really excited about her magazine plans. I'm sure she'll regale you with all the details at dinner."

Arthur looked up at Harry and grinned. "I really meant how are things between the two of you?"

"Oh! Uh . . . things are great . . . as far as I'm concerned anyway. I guess maybe you should ask her," Harry said, shifting a bit uncomfortably.

"You're treating her right, then? She's my only daughter you know," Arthur said with a warm smile.

"As well as I know how," Harry replied, glancing anxiously towards the door.

As if by telepathy, a voice rang out from the kitchen door, "Arthur . . .Harry . . . Come in for dinner."

Dinner, it turned out, was very comfortable and amiable, much to Harry and Ginny's surprise. There were no more questions or insinuations about them. Harry caught up on all the Weasley brothers. Then the conversation turned to Quidditch. Then it meandered over to Ministry business and finally settled on Ginny's business plans.

"So, are you sure you don't need any help?" Arthur asked Ginny anxiously.

"No, not yet Dad. I'm still hoping for that one major investor so I can go about setting up production. I've got quite a few advertisers that have expressed that they'll be interested once I get something set up."

This topic lasted the rest of the evening with Ginny enthusiastically detailing who she had talked to and who was interested and what they said and how much they could contribute. Finally, after a lovely dessert and some tea, it seemed the right time to leave.

"Thanks for dinner," Harry said, still not quite sure what he should call anyone anymore.

"Good night, Harry. Let me know how the case is coming," Arthur said as he shook Harry's hand.

"Goodbye, you two! Owl me on Sunday, Ginny," Molly added with a wink at her daughter. Ginny smiled back a bit uneasily and waved to her mother as they left.

As soon as they arrived in Ginny's living room, they both slumped to the sofa and put their feet up on the table. They both seemed to be relieved to be out from under Molly Weasley's microscope. Ginny picked up her sketchbook, gazed at it for a bit, and leaned her head on Harry's shoulder.

"What is that?" Harry asked.

"It's my idea of a perfect office for my magazine," she said wistfully.

"Do you always draw your dreams?"

"It's my way of positive visualization. If I can draw it, it seems more real."

"It will be real someday, I'm sure of it."

"All I need is that one rich investor," Ginny laughed.

Harry caused his eyes to take on a glazed expression as he adopted a low guttural voice and waved his arms out in front of him. "I predict a mysterious stranger will drop thousands of galleons into your lap . . . very soon . . . ooooooohhh. . . ."

Ginny elbowed him sharply in the ribs as she rolled her eyes. But she was laughing. Harry started laughing with her, and their laughter turned into a companionable embrace. He pulled her into a kiss, which led to another, which led to another, which led to . . . .

*******************************

Daniel Stanfordshire strode briskly forward and shook Harry's hand warmly. "Wonderful to see you old chap," he proclaimed heartily. There was a hint of Irish brogue in his speech. "And, who might these lovely ladies be?"

Before Harry could reply, Hermione stepped forward and extended her hand to Stanfordshire. "I'm Dr. Hermione Granger, and I've been most anxious to discuss . . . .," she broke off in surprise as he kissed rather than shook her proffered hand.

Harry quickly pulled Cordelia forward, muttering, "And, this is Cordelia Hunter, Daniel. Sirius and Cordelia have been seeing one another for several months now. She's a solicitor with Slaughter & May."

"A muggle, eh?" he said as he kissed her hand in turn. "My, but you are a beautiful and I daresay charming muggle, Ms. Hunter," he added smoothly as he gestured them all into his superbly appointed office. "Here, please do take this seat, Ms. Granger," he murmured as he led Hermione to the dark red velvet armchair closest to his desk.

"Dr. Granger," Hermione corrected him, but Stanfordshire had already swept around to the other side of his bamboo desk, his emerald green robes of raw silk billowing behind him. Hermione scowled at his back, and Harry pretended not to notice.

He cleared his throat. "So, Daniel, you have had a chance to take a look at the report I sent over to you last Friday summarizing Sirius' situation?" He turned to Hermione and explained that he'd summarized everything he knew about Sirius' past case to help Stanfordshire's representation. She nodded, and he was relieved that she didn't press any questions.

"Oh, yes, indeed, Harry," Stanfordshire replied absentmindedly as he lazily directed his wand at a nearby cabinet and muttered "Accio, Godiva." When the gold box landed in his outstretched hand, he opened the box toward Hermione, "Chocolate, Ms. Granger?"

"No," she said flatly. Then, she added, "Thank you though. Have you had any luck in obtaining Sirius' file from the Ministry, Mr. Stanfordshire?"

Ignoring Hermione's question, he turned to Harry, "Yes, your report was most helpful. As it turns out, well ... not much of a surprise really, you know, the prosecuting division of the CML has been most reluctant to part with any portion of their files relating to Mr. Black's prior case so . . . ."

"Excuse me, the CML?" Cordelia broke in.

" . . . . so I'm afraid I've had to rely entirely on your report for background information. Of course, I'll need to verify . . . ." Harry held up a hand to silence him and turned to Cordelia. "The CML is the Council of Magical Law. It's part of the Ministry. It has several divisions, including the prosecuting division. We're virtually certain that they would have had a file of information from Sirius' previous arrest, even though he was never granted a formal trial before being taken to Azkaban."

Cordelia nodded and opened her mouth to ask another question but Stanfordshire broke in quickly. "As I was saying, Harry, I'll need to corroborate essentially all the factual matters that you've set out in your report. Perhaps we could go point by point through your report, and you can tell me who else might be able to independently confirm these matters?"

Harry nodded in agreement. "Right then," Stanfordshire murmured as he summoned a file folder from the nearby marble table.

"If you don't mind my asking, how exactly do you plan to eventually obtain the Ministry's file on Sirius, Mr. Stanfordshire?" Hermione asked persistently. "Is there a legal mechanism to force them to divulge its contents or at least portions of it to our side?"

"Are you sure you wouldn't like a chocolate, Ms. Granger?" he smiled as he offered the box yet again.

"No, quite sure, Mr. Stanfordshire," Hermione muttered through gritted teeth. "I would think there would be a means of forcing the prosecutors to at least . . . .,"

"Well, the judge could order them to comply with certain discovery requests, and I would think . . . ," Cordelia began.

"Now, now, muggle procedural rules don't necessarily apply Ms. . . . .what was it again? Terribly sorry," Stanfordshire said briskly.

"Hunter," she said stiffly. "So, would you like to explain the procedural rules for obtaining information from the Ministry about the previous investigations, Mr. Stanfordshire?"

"I'm working on it," he said breezily. "Now, Harry, let's move on to this report, shall we?" Before anyone could interrupt him again, he launched into his questions. "You say here at the beginning that Black was originally designated as your parents' Secret-Keeper but that he persuaded your parents to change to Pettigrew at the last moment. I don't suppose there's anyone who might confirm that change?"

Harry shook his head. "The only people who would be able to confirm this are dead, Stanfordshire. The Fidelius charm would have been performed just amongst my parents and Pettigrew, I suppose. Sirius might have been present . . . . I can find out. But, his presence wouldn't give you any outside confirmation. Albus Dumbledore himself believed that Sirius had been their Secret Keeper, based on their conversations with him prior to their deaths. Their good friend Remus Lupin didn't know about the switch either. It would have been dangerous for anyone to know. If Pettigrew hadn't betrayed my parents, Voldemort would have gone after Sirius as the logical target and tried to extract the information from him. But, Pettigrew saved him needing to take that step," Harry said bitterly. Hermione reached over and gave his hand a quick squeeze.

"Who is this Remus Lupin? If he was a good friend of your parents and Black and Pettigrew, his testimony will be essential," Stanfordshire interjected.

Harry sighed. "Remus Lupin was my father's other best friend at Hogwarts, along with Sirius and Pettigrew. You may recall that shortly after Voldemort's fall from power a few years ago, the Ministry was actively discussing severe reprisals against all those who had allied themselves with the Dark Side?" Stanfordshire nodded, and Harry continued, "Lupin is a werewolf, and although he certainly never betrayed our side, even during his times of change, it seemed that the Ministry wouldn't make individual exceptions. All the werewolves, along with the Dementors, vampires, rogue giants, veela and other similar creatures allied with the dark forces, were to have been imprisoned . . . . or executed if imprisonment was impracticable . . . under the Ministry's proposed Reprisals Act of 1998."

"Ah, so Mr. Lupin fled the country?" Stanfordshire said shrewdly.

"Yes. The Reprisals Act was never enacted, but by that time, Remus had gone so far undercover that none of his friends were able to locate him. I know Sirius has looked off and on again for years, without any success. He's just vanished without a trace. The likelihood of finding him in time to help with Sirius' trial is remote."

"All right then, so we'll have to move forward without benefit of Mr. Lupin's testimony," Stanfordshire sighed. "Let's see then . . . the next thing we need to discuss is your assertion that Pettigrew killed those muggles in that incident in November 1981 and that he faked his own death to frame Mr. Black for both the betrayal of your parents and the murders of those muggles. What sort of factual confirmation do we have with respect to this?"

Harry launched into an abbreviated explanation of the events in the Shrieking Shack from their Hogwarts days, as the full details were included in his report. "So, Hermione and I can testify that we witnessed Pettigrew being forced to reveal himself out of his animagus form and that he eventually confessed to all this in the Shrieking Shack."

"But, if I'm reading your report correctly Harry, one would argue that Mr. Pettigrew was under more than a bit of duress that evening. If I'm a Ministry prosecutor, that's the first thing I'd seize on in fact. Weren't Messrs. Black and Lupin prepared to kill him that night? That certainly qualifies as duress in my mind."

Harry fell silent at this, but Hermione, who was furrowing her brow in concentration, at last spoke up, "But, if they haven't spoken to Pettigrew, and it seems unlikely that they had any opportunity to do so, how would the Ministry lawyers even know those facts?"

"Well, they may not know those facts at the outset Ms. Granger, but they would be most incompetent if they didn't surmise that there might be some sort of defense for the late Mr. Pettigrew in the guise of duress. Any defense for Pettigrew hurts our defense of Mr. Black. I assure you that they will ask pertinent questions designed to eventually elicit that sort of information when they cross-examine you and Harry at the trial."

"Well, even if there was duress involved, the mere fact that we saw Pettigrew alive and well in 1993 when he allegedly died in 1981 should be significant, should it not?" Hermione retorted.

"Oh, yes. Yes, most certainly. But, we must be prepared for the fact that we still have no independent confirmation that Pettigrew committed the primary crimes for which Black is being tried. We only have testimony alleging that Pettigrew wasn't in fact dead in 1981. That might be enough to prove that Black wasn't guilty of Pettigrew's murder, but the prosecutor could argue that when Pettigrew realised that Black was about to curse him, he transformed into a rat but Black still blew up the street and killed all those muggles. It's still not evidence to support the notion that he, not Black, betrayed the Potters' whereabouts to . . . . erm, the dark side, or that it was Pettigrew rather than Black who killed those muggles in London."

Cordelia cleared her throat. "I admittedly am not familiar with the procedural rules for obtaining the information under your legal system, Mr. Stanfordshire, but I would think there might well be information useful to Sirius' defense in the reports created from the testimony of the muggle witnesses that day. I would think it would be essential that you try to obtain the Ministry reports from those witnesses. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, Ms. .... Hunter. I assure you that I'm working to obtain access to those reports and the Ministry's file on Mr. Black's 1981 case. It is, however, probable that I will not obtain that access prior to Wednesday's hearing. So, I think it best if we proceed with discussing what we do and do not know about the case in preparation for this hearing."

"What about statements from other . . . Death Eaters? Wouldn't any of those people be able to testify that Pettigrew was the chief informant or at the very least that it was Pettigrew who was responsible for the deaths of those people in London?" Cordelia continued. "Surely some of them were privy to the full story."

Harry nodded. "Yes, that's in my report as well. The night that Voldemort was resurrected in that graveyard in Little Hangleton, he told those Death Eaters who were present that Pettigrew had faked his own death to escape justice. The problem is that many of those Death Eaters are now dead. In fact, we can't locate a single one of them who wasn't killed during the war or executed in hasty reprisals in the immediate aftermath of the war. Well, we know Lucius Malfoy survived, but no one has seen him since just after the war ended. He's hidden himself very well indeed," Harry added grimly.

"There aren't any of them who were simply imprisoned and could testify or make some sort of statement in a deposition?" Cordelia said in disbelief. "Is this your world's idea of justice? Imprisoning or murdering innocent or at least potentially innocent people without benefit of a trial? What kind of justice system . . . ."

"Miscarriage of justice is hardly limited to the wizarding world Ms. Hunter. Need I remind you of the excesses that have been committed under the muggle Prevention of Terrorism Act?" Stanfordshire interrupted sharply.

"I don't believe any of the reprisal killings were committed under official Ministry sanction," Harry explained. "But, it was a bitter and costly war, and, well, some individuals decided to take justice in their own hands. They extracted their own measure of vengeance on behalf of loved ones lost in battles against Voldemort."

"I see. So, where does that leave us?" Cordelia replied quietly.

"Well, without testimony from witnesses and without much in the way of statements from those with knowledge of the events in question, I suppose we're left with the spell that I outlined in my report," Harry said. "We think the wizard replication spell will establish that the bone fragments did in fact belong to Pettigrew. And, Hermione is researching a means of using a talisman in our possession that could establish some sort of temporal reference to when Pettigrew died. Of course, this is risky in that it's a one-shot deal. We'd save it for the trial of course."

"Tell me how this spell works again," Stanfordshire said, poised with his quill to take notes.

Harry gestured to Hermione, who began to recite the various aspects of the charm from memory. When she'd finished, Stanfordshire broke in, "I assume you'll be performing the charm on the bone fragments at the trial then, Harry?"

Harry glanced uncertainly at Hermione, "Well, charms are really Hermione's strength but . . . ."

"I think it'd best be you, Harry. No offense of course, Ms. Granger, but, well, let's just say it will have a more . . . . credible effect I think if Mr. Potter performs the spell."

Hermione's eyes had narrowed, and she seemed both flustered and angered beyond words. Harry seemed about to try and rectify the situation when Cordelia broke in crisply, "And, why exactly would Harry's rendition of this spell be more credible than if it's performed by Dr. Granger? I'm most curious to hear your answer to this Mr. Stanfordshire."

"Oh, so sorry if I've offended you, Ms. Hunter . . . or you Ms. Granger. I merely meant that having the spell performed by Mr. Black's godson will have a more emotional effect on those present. It will serve our defense of Mr. Black most effectively, in my judgment," he added smoothly. "Well, I think that about wraps up what we need to discuss today then. I'll see you at the hearing on Wednesday then, Harry?" he asked as he stood up and extended his hand to Harry.

"Of course. Hermione will be with me, and we thought we would ask permission for Cordelia to attend as well. I'd like her to be as fully-informed as the rest of us."

"Well, I suppose we could see about getting her permission to attend the trial, but I'd rather not ask for special exceptions for this hearing, if you don't mind Ms. Hunter? I'm sure Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger can give you a full summary of the proceedings on Wednesday that will be satisfactory." Seeing the look on her face, he added swiftly, "We don't want to risk annoying the judge from the outset, now do we?"

She nodded and gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Good. All right then, I shall see both of you on Wednesday." He shook hands with them all again as he saw them to the door. Hermione and Cordelia held their tongues until they'd reached the landing outside his law office building before launching into a bitter tirade. Harry sighed heavily.

********************

Early Wednesday afternoon, Harry and Hermione apparated to Ministry Headquarters and made their way to the dungeon courtroom of the CML. Daniel Stanfordshire was waiting for them outside the door, dressed in the customary black robes suitable for a courtroom appearance but adorned with a brilliantly-coloured scarf just visible at the neckline of his robes. He smiled and after shaking Harry's hand, he leaned over and kissed Hermione's hand as he had on Monday. She jerked it away quickly with a tight smile. "Everything in order?" Harry asked tensely.

"Yes, yes. Our main objective today is simply to persuade the judge to grant a trial in the Pettigrew matter and to combine it with the Peregrine matter that's before the court today. I don't really forsee any objections to any of this," he assured them.

"Will I need to make any statements today?" Harry asked.

"No, I don't think so. This ought not to take too long either. I expect less than half an hour really."

"Why would the prosecutors not object to dredging up the Pettigrew matter? Won't that mean more work for them? More work in what they must perceive as a rather cut and dried case?" Hermione asked.

"Well, I expect that they won't mind because they would believe it will tighten their case for purposes of any appeals. They won't expect that we'll be able to prove Mr. Black was innocent in the Pettigrew affair, and so, they'll believe that evidence of Mr. Black's past crimes, established at last before a court of law, will only solidify their case in the Peregrine matter. I don't expect we'll get any argument from them," Stanfordshire explained.

"Won't this all come as a surprise to them though? I would expect that they might object if they haven't had time to give it all proper consideration . . . ."

"Oh, I alerted Georgianna Blythe when I spoke to her about access to the Ministry file on Black. They'll not be caught flat-footed today regarding our plans. As I said, they think I'm a bit daft to be pursuing it, but there you go." Stanfordshire glanced at his watch. "Well, shall we?" He gestured them to follow him into the courtroom.

Harry and Hermione took seats on a bench directly behind Stanfordshire's seat. Winchell Careye and Georgianna Blythe from the prosecutorial division were already seated at a table to his right. Harry recognised a handful of other lawyers from the CML in attendance and a reporter from the Daily Prophet seated around them. Within a few moments of their taking their seats, Judge Heidi Tandy entered the room. Stanfordshire and the prosecutors stood until she took a seat before them.

Winchell Careye briefly summarized the prosecution's position regarding the death of Sloane Peregrine. When Careye took his seat, Judge Tandy asked Stanfordshire to state the position of the defense. After indicating that the defense intended to show that Peregrine's death was entirely accidental and caused by his own carelessness and that Mr. Black was falsely accused of this crime, Mr. Standfordshire launched into the arguments regarding the Pettigrew matter.

"Your Honour, we would respectfully request that this court grant Mr. Black a trial in the matter of the death of one Peter Pettigrew and in the deaths of various muggles listed in our motion, who died in London on November 2, 1981, allegedly at the hands of my client, Sirius Black. Mr. Black was imprisoned unjustly without trial for these alleged crimes in 1981 under the provisions of Article IV of the Prevention of Dark Arts Terrorism Act of 1970. We believe that justice demands due process of law for Mr. Black in this matter and that this matter can be expeditiously handled in connection with the trial of Mr. Black in the matter of the death of Sloane Peregrine before the court at this time. We do not believe that granting this motion will cause any undue hardship to the prosecution as they have indicated to me already that they have retained their reports from interviews and investigations conducted in 1981. Rather, this will merely serve to correct a tragic miscarriage of justice effected during a very trying time for the Ministry."

Judge Tandy looked intently at Stanfordshire and then turned to the prosecutors. "Do you have any response to this request at this time, Mr. Careye?"

Careye stood. "Yes, your Honour. Mr. Stanfordshire had broached his planned request to try Mr. Black in the Pettigrew matter with our office late last week. The prosecutorial office has no objections to granting this motion. We are prepared to try Mr. Black formally for the commission of his crimes from 1981."

Judge Tandy looked up from her papers. "This court grants the motion of the defense to grant Mr. Sirius Black a trial in the death of Mr. Peter Pettigrew and twelve muggles in London on November 2, 1981. The court further grants the motion that the Pettigrew trial be combined with the trial of Mr. Sirius Black for the murder of Mr. Sloane Peregrine on August 7, 2001. Trial is set for September 2, 2001." The prosecutors and Stanfordshire hurriedly stood as she rose and exited the courtroom through the side door to her left.

Stanfordshire gathered his things and ushered Harry and Hermione out into the hall. They made their way quietly to the entrance to Ministry Headquarters and then apparated to a nearby coffee bar. Much to Hermione's annoyance, Stanfordshire squeezed into the booth beside her.

"So, that was as you expected then?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yes. As I said, I didn't expect that the prosecutors would make any objections to our motion to grant him a trial in the Pettigrew matter. They view it as eminently helpful to their position in the long-run."

"So, what now?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Well, Harry, you should be working on mastering that Wizard Replication spell. And, these glasses . . . . have you ascertained how to best use those to give us a reference point for when Pettigrew died?"

"I'm working on that," Hermione replied. "I've sent an owl to the witch who mentioned the charm I believe we need in a colloquium I attended last year. I expect I will hear something very soon."

"And, Hermione's been working with me on the Wizard Replication spell," Harry added.

"He'll have it down with no trouble by the time of the trial," Hermione said confidently, smiling at Harry across the table.

"Good. Harry, I think it's best if Sirius attends the trial. We spoke about that briefly last week, and you didn't seem too confident that you could convince him to make an appearance. But, I want to emphasize again the importance of his presence. It simply will not make the right impression on the jury if he's still in hiding."

Harry sighed and nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

Stanfordshire said, "Let me know as soon as you can so that I can make the proper preparations either way."

As they got up to leave, Stanfordshire took Hermione's hand. "I was wondering if you'd care to discuss the Wizard Replication charm with me in more detail Ms. Granger. Perhaps over dinner sometime later this week?" He smiled broadly. "Claridge's perhaps?" he added smoothly.

"Oh, but Mr. Stanfordshire, it's Harry who'll be performing the Wizard Replication spell at the trial after all. I'm sure Harry would be happy to dine with you at Claridge's though, wouldn't you Harry? Thanks all the same though." She smiled at them both, before adding to Harry, "I'm off to fill Cordelia in on today's events. I'll see you at home later." She apparated away quickly before either of them could speak, leaving Harry looking slightly bemused and Stanfordshire looking decidedly grumpy.

********************

Ginny hung up the phone, sent the last of the owl posts she had written, and sat back. She took a deep breath and blew the air out through her cheeks as she rested her head on the back of the chair. She was alone in her flat and it had been a week since she'd seen Harry. She knew he was heavily involved in Sirius' situation and she knew that had to be a priority.

Her time had been consumed by one meeting after another, trying to gather enough investors to make her magazine a reality. She was also trying to gather enough initial capital investment to keep her flat and food in the fridge. She turned and picked up the Daily Prophet. While reading, she scouted for new potential investors and looked about other potential jobs in the publishing world. She wanted to assure herself that she could get a real job if necessary.

She told herself it was good to be available nights and weekends, so that she could meet with representatives, prepare presentations, and refine the content and layout of her magazine. "It's okay that I haven't done anything not related to the magazine for three weeks now and it's best really that Harry hadn't called or owled much since I've been so busy anyway," she mused to herself. "Gah! It's dark already," she thought looking out the window. "I'm missing nearly all of the summer! Next thing I know it will be winter, and I'll have missed all the nice weather. I need some fresh air."

She got up, grabbed her bag and a light cloak and headed for the door. Just as she was opening it, an eagle owl approached the window. "Argh! Not another post from those damn hat designers. I thought I answered all their questions," she said out loud as she crossed the room to open the window. "Just give me a million galleons and stop bothering me," she muttered crossly.

She fed the owl and sent it on its way and opened the parchment. First she gasped, as her hand rose to her mouth. Then she felt her legs give out as she slumped into the chair by the window. She read the note aloud to make it seem more real.

Dear Ms. Weasley,

I have heard through various sources that you are planning the creation of a new magazine for the younger generation of witches and wizards. It so happens that I find myself quite taken with this idea, as I believe you could publish something which would be, if not a work of staggering genius, at least something a cut above the currently available drivel.

I shall cut right to the point: I am very rich and often bored. I would like to support your endeavor, so long as you in turn produce for me an interesting magazine. The catch is that I am not available to meet with you now, or, in fact, ever. If that's a problem for you, feel free to crumple up this letter and toss it in the bin right now.

Still there? Good. My instructions: Enclosed find a key to Gringotts vault #5203. There are enough galleons there to partially fund operations for one year. The vault will be refilled as necessary over that time period. If there is a new, more enjoyable magazine, published under the name Circé, available within 9 months, I will continue to fund the operation as necessary until it becomes self-supporting. If no magazine is produced within 9 months, the vault will be closed.

The Gringotts account is set up in your name. I can only make deposits for the next 12 months. The deposits are handled through an anonymous intermediary. It is not my intent for you to discern my identity. Any attempt to do so will be met with a cancellation of funding.

An Interested Investor

Ginny sat back, her hands shaking. Her thoughts went back to her promise to Harry to thoroughly investigate any would-be investors. From the sounds of this letter though, she was being handed her dream on a silver platter. Of course, she wasn't sure she trusted this note; maybe it was just one of her brothers pulling a prank on her. "First things first," she said to herself. "Let's go see if this is for real."

After a brisk walk from her flat to Diagon Alley, she felt somewhat calmer but still in disbelief as she entered Gringotts. She presented her key to the ugly goblin teller. He confirmed her identity as the owner of the vault. Another goblin, even uglier than the first, led her down into a cart that took them to the actual vault. The goblin inserted one key as she inserted the one that came with the note. She pushed open the vault door and gasped. "I guess this is for real," she commented to the goblin who shrugged, grunted and turned to stand outside the door, facing away from the vault as he had been trained.

Ginny entered the vault. By the looks of it, there were enough galleons, in her estimation, to fund magazine operations for at least two years. She decided at that moment that she was going to accept this money, no matter what Harry thought. If he asked, she'd simply tell him it was an interested investor, which was the truth. But maybe he wouldn't ask. He hadn't asked about much lately.

She gathered up a large bag of galleons: enough to get her started with office space, initial staff, and equipment. As she turned to leave, her hands still shaking and in almost a state of shock, something caught her eye. She walked back to the corner of the vault and picked up a miniature pewter dragon. A Swedish Short Snout, if she remembered what Charlie had taught her about dragons. She pocketed the little dragon as she left the vault.

Three days later, Ginny owled Harry with instructions to meet her at a location in the wizarding business district. Harry arrived right on time and found himself in front of a three-story brick building, with a FOR RENT sign in the large picture window facing the street. Ginny was inside waving to him. As she opened the door, she took Harry's hand, reached up to give him a quick kiss and said, "What do you think?"

"About what?"

"Isn't this just the perfect location? It's a bit more per month than I thought I'd have to spend, but it's the right size, has a loading dock and plenty of office space. It also has a large conference room and even a small kitchen with a fridge. Here, follow me." Ginny said all this in a great rush of enthusiasm as she led Harry through the front room and into the hallway leading to the large back area.

"Perfect for what?" Slow down, what is all this?"

"It's the headquarters for Circé. That's what I've decided to name my magazine. At least it will be once I sign the lease, which should be ready tomorrow."

"Circé? That's a great name, but how did you choose it?" Harry asked.

"A little dragon told me," she said with a sly smile.

"Not a criminal dragon, I hope?" Harry countered suspiciously.

"Not that I'm aware of," she dodged, then countered. "Look, it's even got a lift."

"Well, you would need a lift. There are three floors; are you leasing them all? Where are you getting the money for this?"

"Investors. Seems a lot of wizards and witches like my ideas. I've worked out a twelve-month lease. I'm rather sure I can cover that. Oh, let me take you to my office," she said happily, still flush with enthusiasm.

As they went up in the lift, she explained that the first floor would be for production, distribution and customer services, that roughly half of the second floor would be for the photographers and visual artists, with the other half for the writers and copy editors. "Senior staff will be here," she said with a flourish as they stepped off the lift, "on the third floor."

As they walked down the dusty hall, she continued chattering. "I think I'll be able to put the first issue out with a staff of about 25 people. I have some ideas of senior editors I can steal from other publications. Would it bother you if I hired Grant Williams as my managing editor? Of course, he probably wouldn't take the job anyway."

"Who?" Harry interrupted.

"Grant Williams. Harry! He asked me to marry him a number of years ago. I would think you would remember that much! Seriously though, I do think he could be a great asset."

"I remember, I remember. I was just having trouble keeping up," Harry said as he trailed her physically and mentally. "Why would I have a problem with who you hire?"

"Right then, here it is. Isn't it wonderful? My desk would go there near the center with some bookcases and a couple of file cabinets along the wall. See, it has a little window here for owls, but it's fully wired for muggle telephone and that sort of technology. I'd have a large layout table here," she gestured. "Maybe a couch over by the windows I think."

"What's the couch for?" Harry asked distractedly, staring around in amazement.

"Sex, of course . . ." she said teasingly, waiting to get a reaction out of Harry. He was staring out the window by that time. "Yes, all those editors I'll have to hire or fire based on performance!" she continued.

"Yes, right. . . ." he mumbled.

"Harry! Have you heard a word I've just said? I've been talking about shagging my editors and you reply with 'yes, right'?"

"Sorry. It's just . . . looking out this window . . . .Sirius is out there," he pointed vaguely off to the north. "This is it for him. I think we've worked out a deal for him to appear at his trial. But I have to get him to agree to it first."

"Isn't that a bit risky?" Ginny asked, finally calming enough not to sound manic.

"Very. If the trial goes poorly, he's toast."

"What are the odds?"

"If everything goes according to plan, it looks pretty good. If the glasses or the spell fail, it may not be as cut and dried," he said, looking at her intently, then looking away out the window. "I'm sorry, this is your dream and you haven't gotten my full attention."

"It's all right. I wouldn't know what to do with it if I had it," she said with a warm smile. "It would end up just cluttering up my fabulous office!"

"Yes, it is fabulous," Harry said pulling her into his arms. "You've really been great these past few weeks. I know I've been neglecting you."

"I've been neglecting you as well. I've had appointments the last four nights and spent all day today looking at offices. I don't even want to go into how many people I saw this weekend." She paused and looked into those brilliant green eyes that took her breath away. "But it's nice to have you here now."

"This really is a great office. Can I be a special assignment editor . . . you know, so I can be evaluated on your couch?" he said teasingly.

"Hmmm, you were listening, eh? I'll have to think up some dangerous assignments for you, then." She thought for a moment, then said in a very businesslike voice, "Your assignment tonight is to take me to dinner to celebrate. Then we'll see about evaluating you later."

Harry laughed as he took her hand and they walked back to the lift to leave the building. As they walked, he asked more about her plans for the building and the magazine, and he was as good as his word, giving her his complete attention for the rest of the evening.

**************************

Hermione entered the flat with a triumphant smile. "I found it," she called out.

Harry was sitting on the floor with a spell book open in front of him. He was practising the second spell of the trio he was hoping would clear Sirius.

"No, it's not 'Op-TOM-et-tay,' it's 'OP-tom-et-TAY,' and with the last syllable you bring the wand across like this," Hermione corrected as she gestured with her hand.

"What, like this?" Harry asked.

"No, let me show you," she said as she crossed the room and crouched behind him. She covered his hand with hers and moved it in a more dramatically circular fashion. "Like this. . . . . Harry Potter, is that cologne?"

"No, just some aftershave Ginny got as a sample from one of the advertisers she hopes to enlist. She gave it to me. You know, the scent doesn't suit her," he grinned up at her. "So it's around like this . . . .is that right?"

"Right. You've got it! Now, do it again. Yes, that's it." She stood up feeling a bit light-headed, took a deep breath, and felt her heart racing just a bit. "I need something to eat. I don't think I've had lunch. Is it really 2:30 already?"

"So, what was it you were saying you'd found?" Harry asked as he followed Hermione over to the kitchen.

"The charm we need for the glasses. You know I owled that witch who spoke at the colloquium last fall. She sent back her paper and all her references. I went through all those references at the library and found a paper mentioning these glasses specifically. Then that paper referenced an old manuscript that described how the glasses worked. Unfortunately, it didn't specify how to cause the glasses to see the past, but I thought maybe other works by that author would so I looked up his complete works, and . . . ."

"Hermione!" Harry broke in impatiently.

"Oh, all right. Suffice to say I finally got the right paper. You cast this spell on the glasses," she held out a parchment with a series of spell commands, "and hold an object in your hand. You speak a date and touch the object with your wand. The glasses will then show you where the object was at that time."

"So only one person can see the object's past at a time?"

"Yes, but there doesn't seem to be a limit on the number of times the spell is performed."

"That's good. Okay, so we have one more piece in the puzzle. Will you test it out this afternoon?"

"Sure, leave the glasses out, and I'll try it. Are you going out?"

"I'm supposed to see Sirius and convince him to show up for the trial."

"Oh, not an enviable task," Hermione commented as she munched on a sandwich.

"No, I'm still not convinced it's such a grand idea. It's kind of like trying to convince someone to show up at his own lynching. I'm not looking forward to it."

As they chatted over lunch, Hermione voiced her doubts about Stanfordshire, yet again. Harry, weary of this subject as he'd had a similar conversation with Cordelia earlier that morning, rubbed his eyes and said, "Let's just wait and see. It's too late in the game to bring someone else up to speed anyway, all right?"

"Well . . . I do trust your judgment Harry. But, well, never mind," she muttered as she took in the look on his face. "Didn't you say you had to leave at 4:00? It's almost that now."

"Right, then," he said as he put his plate in the sink and went down the hall to his room. Ten minutes later he called out, "Hermione . . . have you seen my Invisibility Cloak?"

"It's not in your trunk?" she asked as she came down the hallway.

"No, and it's not in my rucksack either," he said, combing his hand through his hair.

Hermione walked into his room and began to search the dresser drawers as Harry searched the closet. As she sifted through his sock drawer, she pulled out a small booklet. "Glad to see you learned these," she said in a teasing voice.

Harry poked his head out of the closet and immediately flushed purple. The booklet Hermione was holding was titled "Handy Reference to Contraceptive Charms and Fertility Inhibitors." Harry tried to glare, but chuckled instead, making no comment as he went back to the closet. Hermione laughed and put the booklet back in the drawer.

"Here it is," Harry called at last.

"Why do you need it anyway?"

"I'm sure I'll be followed. It's the best way I can make sure I can get to Sirius undetected," Harry said.

"Okay, good luck. Will you be home for dinner?"

"Sirius may want some company for a change. If I'm not home by 8:00 or so, eat without me. This may take awhile."

With that, he gathered up the rest of his things, slipped on the invisibility cloak and stepped out of the flat.

*******************************

Harry disapparated in a small wooded area about a thousand feet from the small three-room cabin that served as an Intelligence Division safe house. It was charmed so that even Ministry wizards couldn't see it unless they knew specifically where to look. Harry was familiar with this house. He'd used it a number of times when he didn't want to be found.

He went around to the back door that opened into the kitchen area. He went in as quietly as he could and made sure the door was closed behind him before beginning to remove the cloak. The cloak had revealed Harry's legs as Sirius rounded the corner from the bedroom. He stepped back a bit and froze.

"It's just me," Harry said trying to sound as calming as possible.

"Damn it, Harry, James used to do that to me all the time. You'd think I'd know better than to be surprised by that. I was expecting you after all. How are you? What's been going on? How's Cordelia?"

"I'm fine, but more importantly, how are you?"

Sirius looked at him for a moment; he seemed to be trying to decide whether to give Harry an honest answer. Finally he slumped against the doorway and rubbed his temples. "Tired of all this hiding crap. I'm getting too old for this Harry. It's different this time. I miss Cordelia. All the other times I was just looking out for my own arse. This is why I didn't want to get involved with anyone. I didn't want to this to happen to her. Why did I let her get so close? I should have known better." He shook his head.

"She misses you, but she doesn't seem to regret getting involved. She's helping out, you know. Trying to understand wizard law and relate it to what she knows about. She keeps Stanfordshire in line. Between her and Hermione, I'm surprised they haven't chased him off the case yet. They both think he's a dolt. And, he's driving Hermione crazy besides because he keeps trying to chat her up. I'm not sure I'm all that crazy about him as a person myself," he added with a grimace.

"So, you've got a womanizing dolt to defend me?"

"No, I've got the best wizard in the country to defend you. I've heard from other ID agents that the dolt act is just a ruse meant to lull the prosecution into overestimating their case. I think the womanizing thing is real though. But, he seems to be avoiding Cordelia's charms, so don't worry about that."

Sirius laughed, "How could anyone resist her? This guy better be competent, Harry; my life kind of depends on it."

"I know, I know. He's the best, Sirius. He also wants to meet you and go over everything. I've set it up for tomorrow morning, here. He mentioned it would be a good idea to prepare you to testify, just in case."

"Why? I'm not testifying! I've already told you I'm not going anywhere near so much as a Ministry janitor before this is all cleared up."

"Stanfordshire is saying it might be necessary for you to at least appear at the trial."

'ABSOLUTELY NOT, HARRY," he bellowed. "I can't just waltz into a Ministry building! They'd be on me faster than shit off a shovel. I'd be dead within the hour, or at the very least, have my soul removed in a rather undignified way."

"Look, I hear you, but Stanfordshire was saying if you don't show up, it will look like you were too cowardly to face the charges."

"WHAT?! Who does this wanker think he is? Does he not understand what Azkaban is like, or maybe he just doesn't appreciate the fact that there are a number of Ministry officials who still want me dead and as soon as possible? Does he understand what the Ministry has had planned for me the past eight years?" By this time, Sirius was pacing and in full rant mode.

"I told him all of that quite vociferously and in great detail. I told him your experience with the Ministry justice system is just short of horrific."

"And he still thinks I should be there? Nothing like strolling right into the lion's den, is there?"

"He thinks it would positively influence any jury if they believed you had the guts to show up and face the music. He also suggested we try to get an all witch jury as he reckons he could get you acquitted on your animal magnetism alone," Harry joked.

"Yar, right," Sirius rolled his eyes. He didn't seem to be in the mood for much humour at the moment. He stared out the window for a very long time. Harry stared at him.

Finally he looked back into the room. "I can't Harry. I'll talk to Stanfordshire. Bring him here tomorrow, but I can't appear. What if the spells don't work? What if they decide not to accept any of this? What if the relics aren't Pettigrew's bones after all? You haven't even found the right spell for the glasses yet!"

"Actually, Hermione found it today. She's practising it tonight. What did you mean by - 'What if the bones aren't Pettigrew's?' Didn't Jeralyn give you the right ones?"

"After I finally got her to tell me where she had them, I asked her, 'How do I know if they are the right bones?' Her answer was, 'You don't.' By that time I was right tired of her games and she was in no mood or condition to elaborate."

"Oh," said Harry as his stomach sank. "I guess there's no way of knowing for sure until we perform the spell. Well, I can see why you'd hesitate to appear at the trial in that case."

"This is not hesitation, Harry. This is refusal. I am not taking that risk. For the first time, I have someone who wants me alive. I have a real shot at a future. I at least want the option of a muggle life with Cordelia. A muggle life is better than no life. If I show up at the Ministry, I'd essentially be saying, it's a wizard life or nothing. But, I tell you, I could live without magic. I could."

"Come on. You know that's not enough for you. And it's not enough for the wizarding community either. What if another great evil force rises? They are out there just waiting for the right opportunity, you know. You can't tell me you could sit idly by, disguised as a muggle and not get involved?"

"I absolutely could and I would."

"To paraphrase you, Yar...right!" Harry said sarcastically.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"Think about it, Sirius. You can talk to Stanfordshire about it more tomorrow. We'll be here about 10:00 tomorrow morning." He sighed and looked at his godfather ruefully. "Do you want me to stay for dinner, or do you want to think about all this on your own for awhile?"

"No! Stay. I haven't talked to any humans since the last time you were here. Stay and tell me all about Cordelia. Oh, and how are you and Ginny doing?"

They had dinner and talked until late in the evening about everything but the trial. Harry told him about what Cordelia had been doing and that she looked a bit lost, but that she was holding up rather well. He told him all about Ginny's plans, her new office, their trip to the Burrow, and Hermione's vacation in France. He also told Sirius about some of his investigations at the ID. Sirius was one of the few people with whom he could talk openly about his work. It was nice to not have to hide it for a change. Sirius provided some insight and advice on a number of his concerns.

Finally Sirius said, "You'd better be getting home. Someone will suspect. You're coming with Stanfordshire tomorrow then?"

"I'll be here to start, but I have a meeting at the ID at 12:30. I'll have to leave a bit before then."

"Right then. . . . . I'll think about what you said, Harry."

"Okay, good night."

"Good night." Sirius clasped his godson's hand briefly before Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak back on and disappeared into the night.