The Worst Day Since Yesterday

BLACK INNOCENT, PETTIGREW GUILTY

The Wizengamot has found Sirius Black innocent of all wrong doing in the case considering the betrayal of the Potter family and the murder of twelve Muggle bystanders. Pettigrew was found guilty of both. He had been apprehended at the Triwizard Tournament at the end of the recent school year at Hogwarts after Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Cedric Diggory narrowly escaped certain death at the hands of a revived He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Pettigrew was sentenced to life in prison and is to serve the time in Azkaban.

Mr. Black has received on behalf of the Ministry of Magic a formal apology and a sum of 250,000 Galleons as compensation for the time he spent wrongly imprisoned in Azkaban. The Ministry is also considering transferring the guardianship of Harry Potter over to Mr. Black in accordance with the wills of Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Mr. Black was unavailable for comment.

Kent Waulker

Special Correspondent

------

Sirius still could not believe it. He was free, cleared of all charges. He did not have to run anymore. That said, it took Peter being in custody and two bottles of Veritaserum to accomplish it. And those twelve years in prison. And the two on the run. Despite the fact that he was proven innocent, people still avoided him. He could not get his job back at the Ministry as an Auror because he was now deemed a security risk and liability--after all, who knew how much information he gave away while in prison. Most still considered him guilty, that he had bought off the courts. Sirius found that particular allegation to be darkly amusing.

Those that had known him were more than ready to believe they had been right in placing their trust in him. Sirius did not know how to feel about that. Were they happy he was innocent or glad they were good judges of character? It was nerve-wracking. On the bright side, at least he knew that Harry and Remus were of the former group. Though, he did wonder about ... but it did not matter. Nothing came of it. It would be best off forgotten.

Yes, forgotten.

Sirius put the paper down on the counter and surveyed his old apartment. It looked almost exactly as he left it. Maybe it was a little dustier and currently without utilities (he had not paid the bills for some time,) but nothing else had changed. He would clean later, after he looked up the charm for eradicating dust from a room. The thought reminded him that he needed to get a replacement wand. He really did not want to clean the Muggle way, especially without the aid of a vacuum cleaner. It was actually embarrassing how little the general public knew about Muggles, Sirius reflected. After all, they managed to live perfectly fine without magic and do things just as well. He doubted Narcissa could even identify a telephone. Bellatrix would identify it as a "primitive bludgeoning device." That said, not only did she identify most Muggle things as that, but then Andromeda would use a telephone as Bellatrix identified it. Actually, he would pay good money to see that.

Snapping out of his reverie, he picked up the letter next to the paper. He had a very good idea of whom it was from. Sirius hesitated to open it. Wishing it did not say what he thought it did he knew did not make anything change. He opened the envelope and read the letter. Upon finishing it, he started cursing. Pacing around the room, he wondered if he was he the only sane man in Britain. Because, really, was he? He glared at the offending piece of paper.

He sat back down at the counter and calmed himself down. Tentatively, he reread it.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Black,

As you know, Hogwarts is again in need of a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. (This had been the point at which Sirius had started to curse mentally.) The Headmaster immediately suggested you, as you have been officially exonerated. I would think that you would be hesitant to take this particular job, and I personally would not blame you. There is some question as to how parents would react to you teaching their children. Unfortunately, I must add that if we are unable to obtain a suitable Defense teacher, the Ministry will send a representative to teach. You more than meet the requirements the Ministry has set, so please consider accepting this job offer.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

P.S. If you do accept the job, Sirius, you cannot prank anyone, including Severus.

There was really only one choice, as far as Sirius saw it. Lovely. Blackmail and apology all rolled into one. Of course, the students might find it a welcome change. They had had some terrible luck the past four years. A Death Eater with Voldemort attached to his head, a brainless ponce, and a psycho posing as Mad Eye Moody? And the only good teacher quit because prejudices got in the way (and because Remus was a worry-wart), which was a complete shame.

Feeling as if he was signing his own death warrant, Sirius wrote the reply. He would send the letter later. First, he had to get rid of all the dust. Finally he understood his mother's obsession with cleaning. What was that charm? He had certainly heard it enough as a child! After a couple minutes of trying to remember, he gave up and decided to send the letter first. It would accomplish more, and he could go buy a new wand.

Sirius searched the apartment for some Floo-powder, and failing to find some, he walked out the door and slowly made his way to the nearest Underground station. A few stops and a transfer later, Sirius was in Diagon Alley. He first stopped in at Gringotts, which was a colorful experience in and of itself. Luckily, one of the goblins had a good head on his shoulders, and Sirius finally exited the bank with a decent amount of money from his personal account. He decided not to touch the family vault. God knew what was in it. Maybe he would donate all the Dark artifacts to the Ministry or the Wizarding division of the British Museum. The latter seemed wiser, seeing as the Ministry might use whatever he tossed whereas the museum would put everything under glass.

It was strange how little people noticed him, Sirius reflected as he wandered around Diagon Alley. Maybe it was because he had finally gotten a haircut and a couple of square meals? Granted, he was still much thinner than he used to be, but he looked much less gaunt than he had before the trial. And, oh, how he had missed shampoo. He was never going to take hot water for granted ever again. Of course, people may have been noticing him but not caring. He would definitely not mind that.

Sirius walked into Ollivander's, almost hoping that the man would not remember him. Sirius had always had a slight, irrational fear of the man. He remembered when his mother had dragged him into the store with her and Regulus when his brother had bought his first wand. That had been a very unpleasant experience. "Ah, Mr. Black, I've been expecting you!" Ollivander said out of the dim shadows of the store.

Sirius managed to restrain himself from jumping two feet in the air. "Uh, yeah," he said somewhat nervously. Irrational fear. Some people were afraid of snakes, but Sirius had to be afraid of Ollivander. Was there no justice in the world? "Hello."

"Let's see. Mahogany, dragon heartstring, twelve-and-a-half inches, correct?" Ollivander said, shaking his head. "Pity you lost it. I sold the last mahogany wand thirteen years ago. It was an excellent type of wood for wandmaking."

Sirius smiled and nodded as Ollivander then rushed about, collecting various boxes from the walls. He suddenly wished he could just pick a random wand and leave, but there was little chance of that happening. After going through about twelve different wands (from "Ash, phoenix feather, ten inches" to "Sycamore, unicorn hair, eleven inches,") Ollivander finally found one that worked. "Ebony, dragon heartstring, twelve inches," Ollivander declared. "Same as your father, if memory serves."

Sirius forced himself to smile. "Yes," he replied, too shocked to say anything else. After paying the ten galleons for the wand, he exited the shop as quickly as possible without seeming rude. Sirius quickly made his way to Flourish and Blotts after sending the letter to Dumbledore at the nearest post office. The old bookstore had not changed much over the years, Sirius noticed. He wandered over to the textbook area and scanned it for a decent text. He knew which books to assign the first through fourth years (Thank you, oh excellent memory,) but after that, the choice of books was more a matter of preference. It finally hit him that he would have to make lesson plans and therefore would have to buy a copy of each textbook and read them. After deciding on the book he had been assigned sixth and seventh year and the text from the first quarter of Auror training, he purchased the books while being stared at by the cashier. Yes, it was strange to see Sirius Black buying textbooks about Defense Against the Dark Arts, but that did not merit the degree of staring he was receiving, although it may have been the various Muggle paperback novels that confused the cashier.

Somehow, Sirius eventually wandered into the Magical Menagerie. He had not been in here since Remus had decided fourth year to get a pet. They had ended up leaving without an animal in tow as none of the Marauders had even considered what an animal's reaction to a werewolf would be. Cats did not get on well with Remus, who was also apparently allergic to ferrets. In a cage near the corner, a cat was staring at Sirius. It reminded him of Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, except that it was black and not ginger. Breaking out of his reverie, Sirius left.

When he finally got back to his apartment after some more wandering around Diagon Alley, there was another letter waiting for him on the counter in the kitchen area. He set the books down on the couch, ignoring the fine coat of dust on it, and fetched the letter. "My fate is sealed," he murmured, scanning the letter. Apparently, the Ministry was going to appoint that Umbridge woman if the school had not found a teacher by the end of the week. McGonagall was very happy Sirius had accepted the job, even if she did warn him again about the pranking, but that was to be expected. If he were McGonagall, he would do the same thing. Sure, he had been immature when he was younger, but, despite popular belief, twelve years in Azkaban would make anyone mature. It had given Sirius a lot of time to think, after all. At this point in time, he realized McGonagall was really asking him to not hex Snape into another dimension. Well, he would just have to deal with it.

Then he remembered the spell to get rid of the dust.

------

"Please, Cuz?" Gemma asked her mother's cousin. "I swear I'll take care of it!"

The American witch eyed the kneazle-cat crossbreed carefully. It was a black monster that resembled a miniature tiger dumped in a vat of ink. "Somehow I do not think that your mother would approve," she said hesitantly. Why she had agreed to this was beyond her, but her dear cousin had begged for about an hour. "But I guess she would be fine with it if you took care of it," she relented upon being given the puppy-dog-eyes treatment from her younger cousin. She had momentarily forgotten the presence of her cousin's friend and was surprised by the declaration following of hers.

"It's like a cat version of a Grim," Luna Lovegood promptly decided. Gemma grinned at that and went to go talk to the manager in order to purchase the cat. Luna gazed at the other witch present and said, "Where is Alphecca's mother, Diana White?"

Diana did not particularly understand Lovegood, but Gemma seemed to quite well. "She's busy working," Diana replied uncertainly. At least, she thought Lovegood was referring to Gemma. Diana had no other way to answer the question, in any case.

"Hm," Lovegood answered. She smiled enigmatically. "I look forward to this school year," she announced. "There will be much Arithmancy and Defense homework, but more fun Potions and Astronomy homework. Divination will be amusing. I love Herbology."

"Has anyone told you that you make little to no sense?" Diana asked her frankly. The girl talked in riddles, for heaven's sake! Was everything she said in metaphor? Or was it plain gibberish? A thought then hit Diana. "Your father doesn't happen to be the editor of the Quibbler, does he?" she asked with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Yes, yes," Lovegood replied, spinning around. "Daddy has a very interesting job. I like reading. Gemma likes acting. Very silly, if you ask me. Rashness can be fatal, but she has a Grim to protect her. I do not worry." She stopped and stared at Diana. "You have an interesting job. Tell the brother I said hello." The girl resumed staring at the snakes.

"Whom?" Diana asked, confused. Who in creation was "the brother?" Never mind her job; she did not want to know what Luna meant or thought on that matter. "I don't know who you are talking about. I only have sisters."

"Not yours!" Lovegood clarified, shaking her head. "Really! If I meant yours, I would have said so! But you have no brother, so why did you think that? Gemma returns."

Gemma indeed did come back at that moment with the furry monster in her arms. "Isn't she the greatest?" she exclaimed happily. Diana nodded her head to placate her cousin. Luna smiled serenely and nodded. "I can't wait for this school year!" Gemma continued. "I finally get to take Arithmancy and Divination!"

Diana shook her head. "Are you sure you want to do that?" she asked. "Your mother was driven up a wall by Divination. Trust me, I heard about it every chance she got. She wrote reams on how it was all mindless drivel. For instance, once it was predicted she would marry rich, and the next day a future boyfriend lost his inheritance. It was all very annoying, in the end. Then again, my oldest sister swears by Divination, but in her case it has saved innocent lives."

"I love Divination," Lovegood declared, contradicting Diana. "But there is less fun in the incense. I approve of teacups. Shall we take the Grim-cat and go?"

"Where to? Flourish and Blotts?" Gemma asked, with the cat purring in her arms. "I wanted to see if they had the new edition of Lord of the Rings in, but if you think we should go home, Diana, it's okay."

Diana grimaced and thought about it. Sure, it would not be too strange if Gemma walked in with the cat, but she would rather that they went home. She glanced towards the shop and instantly decided. "We'll come back when you get your school list, Gemma," Diana said, hoping the compromise would work. "I just think that maybe it would be better to go home since you bought your... cat. I'll buy you some extra books, too, next time we're here."

Gemma was slightly disappointed, but she acknowledged that there was logic in the statement. "Alright," she acquiesced. "You promise?" Diana nodded.

Luna was smiling enigmatically again. "What is lost is found," she agreed.

------

Astronomy Professor Auriga Sinistra was, all in all, having a Good Day. The sun was shining; the grass was green; there was not a cloud in the sky. Her lesson plans were half-finished. This was one of the years she came up with a new set and was not just editing old lessons to pass the time. Everything seemed to be going well. Arty (Professor Artemesia Vector only barely stood this nickname) was in a good mood, despite her occasional fall back into the realm of self-loathing. Auriga figured that Arty would get better soon.

As Auriga watched Fawkes fly past the Astronomy tower, a memo appeared on her desk. She decided that her Good Day was soon to be a Bad Day. Auriga prayed it was just some random announcement about who was taking the Defense post or about student scheduling or about food schedules. She swore to herself that if it were anything but that, she would pretend that she had not gotten the memo. What, be more decorous in her dealings with the greasy git? Ha! She would never surrender until he admitted he was wrong.

Auriga then heard a couple of noises somewhat like the Sound of Ultimate Suffering. That boded well. She opened the letter. Ah. That made altogether too much sense. Darn. Now she would have to be nicer to Severus. Marginally. Auriga sat back and waited for Arty to come flying up the stairs.

She did not have to wait long. It was rather amazing, considering. The Arithmancy classroom was on the third floor, if she remembered correctly. Deadly calm, Arty walked into the room with a stoic expression on her face. "Have you received the memo?" she asked with a slight quaver in her voice.

Auriga nodded. "Is it surprising?" she asked in return. "He was an Auror, you know, and with that family, I'd be surprised if he did not know most of the defense spells by heart."

"And the Dark ones," Arty replied quietly, lost in thought. She started pacing around the room with an almost frantic mien. Auriga leaned back against the back of her chair and waited for her friend to continue. Arty always continued; she never would say everything the first time around. "He... I don't know. How am I going to act? What will I say?" she wondered nervously. "I can't just go up and pretend nothing has happened, you know?"

"You could just avoid him," Auriga suggested unhelpfully. "Or you could be strictly professional and pretend that there is no history between you two." Hopefully the horrible advice would galvanize Arty's vaunted problem solving skills and get her to solve her own problems.

"He won't fall for it," Arty protested vehemently, "and he doesn't even need magic to tell when I'd be lying! I can't just avoid him, because then he'll... Oh, God, what shall I do?"

There was a long pause in the conversation. Auriga had known that the two were dating before everything and that they were definitely serious; she had even accepted Arty's unwillingness to talk two years ago, especially because of the circumstances. Now, however, it was much more important that Arty get everything out of her system. If she did not, Auriga would probably stop going to faculty meetings. Actually, she might stop going anyway. Hm. She would have to consider that later. "How involved were you with him?" Auriga finally asked.

Arty was staring out the window, lost in the past. "We were going to have dinner that night," she said after a moment. "He was in one of his rarer, sincerely happy moods, and he swore he would be back on time. I arrived there that night a couple minutes late. He wasn't there. I knew he'd been on duty that day, so I went into his apartment to check if he had left a note. There was one there, but it was not what I expected. He was ... caught the next morning."

"What did the letter say?" Auriga asked quietly and with reservation. Maybe she should not have asked Arty about all this, considering.

"That he was sorry, that he failed me, that he loved me. 'I won't hold you to coming to the funeral.' So bloody typical," Arty replied in a stone-cold voice. She laughed bitterly. "He never did really think he was going to live very long. Sometimes I wonder if he set that note out every morning and hid it every night when he returned. In any case, there was a ring sitting on the note, but that was how it was."

Auriga watched her friend pacing and glanced down at the evil little memo. The only things she could think of to say were four letter words and best not repeated in polite discourse. After a moment of collecting her thoughts, Auriga finally said, "Just talk to him. Tell him you missed him, that you're sorry, whatever you feel. Even if you hate him, tell him you hate him. Be honest with him. I think you both deserve it and owe it to each other."

"What if he won't talk to me? What if he hates me? I deserve it, sure, but I--" Arty broke off. "And what about the..." Arty shook her head and paced more furiously.

Auriga paused. What was the real problem here? Was it that Arty was afraid of how he would react, or was it that she was afraid how she would react? Or did she want things to go back to how they were, despite how impossible it was? Was Arty still in love with him, despite it all? "How do you really feel about him?" Auriga asked, wondering what to do and to say next.

"I don't know," Arty answered miserably. "I just don't know."