Chapter 46: A Brighter Chapter
Violet PotterHogwarts, Great Britain
It was Tuesday. More importantly, it was January first, the start of our new year. The day of Sirius Black’s, my godfather’s, trial had arrived. Or maybe it was Peter Pettigrew’s?
I wasn’t too sure about that. Sirius was to be exonerated. Peter was being accused of murder. Both were criminal cases, and they were both key witnesses at each others’ trials. It sounded like it’d be a huge mess in the muggle world, the kind that entire legal soap operas were based on.
Fortunately, they didn’t care for proper procedure here in Magical Britain. If they had, Sirius would never have been thrown into Azkaban without a trial. No, both men would stand trial simultaneously. They would be questioned with veritaserum one after the other. Simple, and theoretically, foolproof.
I followed Professor McGonagall through the ministry, doing my best to ignore the obvious whispers when I walked by. I’d meant to ask Professor Dumbledore about visiting Sirius’ trial, but it had completely escaped my mind. Having my innermost desires reflected back at me had been rather distracting. Thankfully, they’d already planned to take me along.
With me were Parvati and Padma. My best friends kept close, placing themselves between me and anyone who looked like they’d stop me for an impromptu interview. I’d probably have to give one eventually, but I’d prefer that to come after I figured out how I felt about all this.
We ducked beneath a flock of paper airplanes and dipped into Courtroom Ten, far below the London Underground. It was my first time in the Ministry of Magic. There were lots of things I would have normally been curious about, like the moving paintings that seemed to be doing paperwork even after the deaths of their originals, but my mind was too scattered to ask.
We sat far above the courtroom. Here, spectators filled the seats, though several in the front row were reserved, ours obviously included.
“Is it normally this crowded?” Padma asked the professor. “I didn’t even know Wizengamot hearings were open to the public.”
“Some are, some are not. It is often at the discretion of the chief warlock, which is Professor Dumbledore, or the minister of magic, Cornelius Fudge,” Professor McGonagal said. “Given the high profile nature of this hearing, it was decided that the public should hear the truth alongside the Wizengamot members.”
I looked around. People had cottoned on to my presence. It was like a wave that rippled through the crowds, each head turning to look at me. “I don’t see what’s so interesting about this for everyone else.”
“Anything involving your family is unfortunately bound to be a public spectacle. Also, keep in mind that we are seeing the return of Lord Black, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Do not worry, I will ensure that no one from the media speaks with you until you have had a chance to process the results of this hearing.”
“Yes, thank you, professor. For letting me come at all.”
“Think nothing of it, Miss Potter. Lord Black was a favorite student of mine, mischievous, yes, but he was no killer.”
‘And Peter was?’ I thought sardonically. I didn’t bring it up, though. She probably had her own complicated thoughts on my parents and their friends.
Instead, I looked around at the audience while waiting for the trial to begin. I was looking for Blaise, my other best friend, the boy who made all this possible with a hijacked owl and a vial of sleeping draught. But try as I might, he was nowhere to be found. I felt a wave of disappointment at that. The one who put all this in motion wasn’t even around to see how it ended.
I knew he wouldn’t be here. Minerva, the owl, not the professor, had delivered two notes to me this morning. One said he’d already scried the ending and saw no need to trouble himself by getting out of bed, the lazy bastard.
Even if he knew the answer, I would have liked to have him with me. He’d probably say something about how being seen around me would damage his plans. Really, I was starting to wonder if I smelled bad or something.
The other was a sealed letter addressed to Sirius, which he said I was not to open. That just made me want to open it more. Still, I owed him more than words could say. Even if he was using me to advance his plans for “Lord Black,” then I’d play along, just this once.
Letting out a disappointed sigh, I sank into my seat to await Professor Dumbledore. I didn’t wait long, maybe ten minutes or so, before the professor stepped behind the podium.
It was strange. His long, wispy beard was combed neat and tied in a knot at the end. It was tucked into a maroon sash that doubled as his belt. He’d picked out a set of deep, navy-blue robes with muted stars. It looked distinguished, and completely unlike him. Maybe I was too used to his gaudy, animated fashion disasters.
He said nothing. He merely stood there and the courtroom fell silent. He looked around with a calm serenity, as if the “trial of the century” wasn’t something to be fussed over. Maybe for him, it wasn’t.
He defeated Grindelwald. I read in a history book that Padma gave me that the former dark lord was still alive, imprisoned in Nurmengard castle, somewhere in the Austrian Alps. Presumably, he’d been tried so maybe Professor Dumbledore had already seen the “trial of the century.”
“Thank you for your cooperative silence. I ask for the continued respectful silence of those who have come to observe,” he began without fanfare. “As chief warlock, I will oversee the hearing of Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. This case has been reopened following the reveal of Peter Pettigrew’s continuing survival.
“This hearing seeks to shed light on the murder of twelve muggles and the betrayal of the Potters. Should Sirius Black be found innocent of all crimes, he shall be reinstated as a lord of the Wizengamot. A future hearing shall take place to determine what reparations, if any, are due to him for this miscarriage of justice.
“Madam Amelia Bones, in her capacity as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, shall act as the prosecutor. Healer Helena Sutton shall administer the veritaserum,” he said, gesturing to the two women. I distantly recalled that the former was Susan’s aunt.
“Once the two witnesses are summoned, they will be restrained in their respective stands. The stands shall be isolated from all noise, so that one man’s testimony may not unduly influence the other’s. A request for the Daily Prophet to pose questions directly to the witnesses has been submitted. It is rejected.
“Now, we will proceed by confirming the attendance of a Wizengamot quorum. Beginning with those most honored members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, please stand and confirm your presence.”
What followed was a lengthy introduction of every member of the Wizengamot. After all, who among them would miss this hearing? Still, procedure was procedure and Professor McGonagall was happy enough to explain what was happening.
Apparently, there were sixty-four seats total, with the chief warlock acting as the master of ceremonies and tiebreaker should there be the need. Twenty-eight were “sacred,” and reserved for the founding families, to be inherited along their lines as they saw fit.
The other thirty-six could belong to anyone in theory, but inevitably went to those with a great deal of wealth and influence. Or, those who were sponsored by others with wealth and influence. They were held for life, which was why elections were so rare.
I couldn’t help but feel all this was intentional. A lifelong seat ensured that the general public would lose interest over time. And since only one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight could nominate a prospective member to the ballot, they ultimately held the reins of power even if they were technically outnumbered by their pedestrian peers.
Then, the two men were brought in under heavy auror escort. They looked about as different from one another as was physically possible.
Peter was a chubby, midget of a man, with a pronounced overbite that made him look like a rat that had been transfigured into a human. He did not walk to his stand as much as was carried there in the arms of two, thoroughly disgruntled aurors.
Meanwhile, Sirius Black was a tall, gaunt man who looked like he could be a survivor of those wartime prison camp documentaries. His cheeks were hollow from prolonged malnutrition; his eyes were sunken from countless restive nights. He was apparently very handsome once, and there was still a ghost of that here, but he did not look anything like the heartthrob he was supposed to have been.
And yet, he walked with his head held high. He marched to his stand while looking about the room, actively daring people to look him in the eyes. For a moment, his eyes passed over us in the audience, with only the briefest recognition for Professor McGonagall. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. This wasn’t a courtroom drama. He saw me last when I was one year old; he wasn’t about to recognize me and break down, godfather or not.
Then, his eyes settled on Peter, his old friend. There was hatred there, a soul-deep loathing so intense that words felt inadequate to describe it. I had no doubt that had he a wand, we’d be watching an entirely separate murder trial. Someone must have coached him though, because he allowed the aurors to strap him to the stand without a fuss.
The trial commenced with the questioning of Peter Pettigrew. It was everything I’d heard before. He was the secret keeper. He betrayed my parents. And when he was confronted by Sirius, he blew up the entire street, killing twelve muggles and leaving his finger behind.
A storm raged inside me as I heard it all again. The audience gasped and pointed. The worst were the pitying eyes centered on me. I wasn’t even on the stand and I was somehow still part of the circus. I hated it, this fame that put my life under a microscope. Everyone got to gawk at my family’s tragedy, but this was the price to pay for justice.
I felt hands squeeze mine tight. To either side were the twins. They offered me reassuring smiles, acting like physical bulwarks against the attention of the crowd. They said nothing, but their presence was worth more than all the gold in Gringotts.
The rat’s questioning ended. He looked completely drained, slumped and trembling, knowing there was no way out anymore. I burned it into my mind. I wanted to strangle him myself, but this was the only justice I’d get so I’d do my best to savor it.
“We have heard from Peter Pettigrew. Healer Sutton, please administer the veritaserum to Sirius Black,” Professor Dumbledore said as he brought down the wards around Sirius’ stand and raised the ones around Peter’s.
Sirius had been watching with quiet satisfaction. He couldn’t hear a word of the hearing thus far, but he relished the way that life seemed to drain out of his former friend.
I held my breath. What kind of man was Sirius Black? I knew, of course, that he was my godfather, but I could never seem to get a straight answer.
Professor McGonagall said he was a prankster, but a brilliant student. She said he was brave, the ironic white sheep of the notoriously dark House Black. She said he was funny, handsome, and extremely popular.
Rita Skeeter’s article said he was a manwhore. She said he would be a bad influence on me, that he’d be insane after over a decade in Azkaban. She said that he had a different witch on his arm every month and used the name of Lord Black to intimidate and bully others.
Well, she didn’t say any of these things directly, but that was almost worse. That implied that she was wary of the resurgent Black seat. And even if she didn’t say as much, plenty of people who gave her quotes for her article seemed to agree with the sentiment.
Madam Bones stood to present the questions. “As a matter of court record, what is your name?”
“Sirius Orion Black,” he said. His voice was soft and raspy from disuse even though he made obvious attempts to project.
“Who killed the Potters?” Madam Bones asked, diving right in.
Sirius’ face contorted with heavy, soul-crushing remorse. “The Dark Lord. Peter. Me… I killed them.”
“Elaborate. Were you the secret keeper to Godric’s Hollow?”
“No. James wanted to choose me. I refused. I was his best friend. I was the obvious choice. So I said Peter should be the secret keeper.”
“Who knew about this switch?”
“James. Lily. Me. Peter. Only us.”
“Why did the Potters not tell any of their allies?”
“We thought there might be a mole. I was the distraction. The Death Eaters would chase me. Peter was supposed to keep hidden, keep everyone safe.”
“When did you realize Peter Pettigrew was a spy for the Dark Lord?”
“T-That night… I went to his hiding place. He was missing. I knew, then.”
“Elaborate. Describe the events of that night as you recall them.”
“I couldn’t find Peter. The Dark Lord already began his attack. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t warn them. And when I arrived at Godric’s Hollow, it was all over,” he said. Each word seemed to age him a decade. “I… I saw Hagrid, acting on behalf of Professor Dumbledore.”
“What did you do next, Mr. Black?”
“I gave Hagrid my flying motorcycle. Hagrid took little Violet to safety. And I… I chased after Peter.”
“You found him in the middle of a muggle street. Who killed those twelve muggles?”
“Peter did. He shouted that I’d betrayed the Potters, that I was an agent of the Dark Lord. He then blew up the street and cut off his own finger to fake his death.”
“How did Peter Pettigrew fake his death?”
“He is a rat animagus. He left a finger behind as proof that he’d been murdered, then scurried away.”
“How do you know this information?”
“James, Peter, and I learned the animagus spell together in our fifth year of Hogwarts.”
“Were you successful?”
“We all were. James was a stag. Peter is a rat. I am a dog.”
“One more time, you were never the secret keeper for the Potters.”
“I was not.”
“You did not kill the twelve muggles.”
“I did not.”
“I have no more questions. I cede the time to you, chief warlock,” Madam Bones said. She took a deep, fortifying breath and took a step back.
It was hard to remember with all that was going on, but she looked pretty young. She probably went to school with the Marauders. I wondered if she knew them before things went to hell in a handbasket.
Professor Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Madam Bones. It seems there has been a grave miscarriage of justice under the previous administration. It gives me great joy to bring this matter to light. At this point, we will now proceed with the verdict.”
I tuned them out as Wizengamot members began to vote. Not that there was a need to count the votes at all. When Professor Dumbledore called for Peter’s guilt, every wand lit up. There was no point being singled out to oppose such a landslide verdict, after all.
I wondered what that was like. Peter was a Death Eater; we saw his mark during his questioning. If what I’d been hearing was right, then at least a few of these “most noble” lords were also Death Eaters.
I hoped they knew each other. I hoped they were close. I hoped they had little Death Eater pow-wows when they weren’t being psychotic mass murderers. I hoped he saw every wand alight, and felt the same knife he slid in my parents’ backs.
Professor Dumbledore made his final announcements. “The votes have been cast. Peter Pettigrew is found guilty of twelve counts of murder. He is also found guilty of being accessory to the murder of James and Lily Potter. The hearing to determine his exact sentence will follow shortly.
“Further, Sirius Black–excuse me, Lord Sirius Black–is found innocent of all charges of the same. However, he is found guilty of being an illegal animagus. His prior wrongful imprisonment is to be accounted for.
“Finally, Lord Black’s instatement ceremony into the hallowed body of the Wizengamot is to be held on the eleventh of this month. Additional hearings to determine the reparations owed to him for this miscarriage of justice are to be discussed following this ceremony.
“Happy New Year, one and all, and especially to you, Lord Black. May this be the beginning of a new, brighter chapter of your life.”
X
We followed Professor McGonagall like three, little ducklings. Padma and Parvati stood to either side of me as she carved through the crowd like a lioness on the prowl. I could only hope to possess half that much “Fuck with me and die,” energy one day.
We did not exit the ministry. Instead, she led us further down, past the courtrooms and into what I could only assume was a waiting room of some kind. It looked about as comfortable as an office space could be, with a big couch and coffee table that was probably made in the Victorian era.
There, I got my first closeup look at my godfather. He was gaunt and haggard. The ministry was supposed to have taken care of him in the past few weeks, but that couldn’t wash away the decade in Azkaban with literal soul-sucking monsters. But now, there was new strength in him, the will of a man who knew he was free.
He was, maybe predictably, in the arms of a woman. She was old enough to be my mother, but age had clearly only emphasized her beauty. The whole “aged like fine wine,” thing that hopeless romantics said in movies? This had to be the woman they were thinking of. She had sharp, aristocratic features, chestnut-brown hair, and a timeless quality about her that made me think she’d look like this twenty years from now.
Next to her and behind a few steps stood a witch who was far closer to my age. She looked like she was in her early twenties, with the same, aristocratic features and what I now recognized were the robes of an auror. But unlike the older woman, her hair was a neon pink that rippled with emerald waves. She looked like an awkward watermelon who didn’t know whether to leave the room or remain at her no doubt official post.
I liked her immediately. For all the cosmetic charms witches had available to them, I’d seldom seen anyone do anything truly out there. Hell, my mismatched ear piercings and stockings were most of my peers’ first introduction to “alternative fashion.” It was refreshing to see someone a bit weird, in a good way.
The older witch cupped his face with a warm, watery smile. “Sirius, you’re here. I… I didn’t believe it when I read the articles. I’m-I… I didn’t believe in you.”
He pulled her into a tight hug and spoke. It was a soft, tender thing, almost a whisper, “It’s okay, Andy. You weren’t supposed to know. No one was; that was the whole point.”
“I should have checked. I-I should have made sure.”
“You had Ted and Nymphadora to care about. They were your priority, as they should be. You got out, Andy. You were free. I wouldn’t have wanted you to look for me.”
“I… I’m glad you’re back,” she said.
I shuffled closer to Professor McGonagall. “Should we be here?”
“Just give them a moment, Miss Potter,” she said. It must have been nice; she was always stiff so no one could tell if she was feeling awkward or not.
Eventually, they noticed we were here. Sirius turned to face us. His eyes flashed with surprise and recognition at his old professor’s arrival.
“Professor,” he said, warmly. There was a hoarse rasp to his voice still, but he looked as if a weight had fallen from his shoulders. “You came.”
“Of course I did, Sirius. And I did not come alone,” she said. She took a half-step back and placed a hand on my shoulder. “There is someone you should meet.”
“You brought some students? Fresh lion cubs? I don’t see what’s so–Is-Is that… Violet?”
I froze, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. Ever since Professor Dumbledore told me exactly what Blaise did for me, I’d dreamt about this moment. Literally, there were nights when this exact moment played out in my mind.
Congratulations on your freedom.
Thank you for being a loyal friend.
I’m glad you’re not a murderous psychopath.
Fuck you for letting them leave me with the Dursleys.
I opened my mouth. I screamed inside, desperately willing words to come forth. Anything at all would do. But still, my body betrayed me. I stood there awkwardly, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.
“Violet… You look just like Lily… I mean, with black hair and…”
“Y-Yeah, I get that a lot…” I trailed off awkwardly. “I… I’m sorry. W-We can come back later, when you and your wife are done.”
“Wife?’ He looked bewildered.
Did he not have one? Was that woman not it? The articles didn’t mention it, but I figured even Rita Skeeter had enough tact to not bother Lady Black. She obviously knew him from before, so I assumed that they were together, but…
Sirius looked at me, then at the one named Andy. A look of overwhelming revulsion crossed his face. It was like someone told him he was due for another decade in Azkaban. As one, they began to dry heave.
“W-WIfe? Andy?” “Sirius? No, thank you!” they shouted together.
“Andromeda Tonks, formerly Black,” Professor McGonagall introduced the older witch. I could have been hallucinating from sheer awkwardness, but I thought I spied the ghost of a smile there. “Your godfather’s cousin.”
“O-Oh… Please kill me…” I whispered, defeated. This was what I got for trying to be considerate.
“Wow, you even got that from James,” Sirius said. “He used to put his foot in his mouth a lot. Did that same, awkward shuffling, too.”
“H-He did?”
“He did. I should tell you about some of his first attempts at asking out your mother. O-Of course, if you’d like that…” he trailed off. I realized then that he felt just as awkward as I did.
I gave him a shy smile. “I’d like that.”
Blaise’s stupid letter could wait. Right now, I had a godfather to meet. And his cousin. And her daughter, who turned out to be the cool auror with watermelon hair.
This year was off to a good start.
Author’s Note
I can’t remember where I read it, but I read somewhere that in Harry’s hearing in fifth year, there were sixty-four seats in the courtroom. No idea if that’s true or not, but I ran with it. You can add bad courtroom procedures to your tropes bingo.
Animal Fact: Albatross do not recognize their chicks by sight, sound, or smell. The only thing that identifies a chick as theirs to an albatross mating pair is that it is in their nest.
If a chick falls out of the nest, even if that chick is literally inches away, it will not be recognizable to its parents. It must climb back into the nest, or die of exposure. Given how they like to nest on remote, ocean islands in the Southern Ocean or Northern Pacific, this is more common than you’d think.