Chapter Text
When Harry saw all the people gathered in the courtroom, he felt his stomach drop down to the bottom of his shoes. This looked like a proper trial for a hardened criminal instead of a hearing for something as silly an underage magic. In fact, the room was the same one he had seen in Dumbledore’s memory of the Lestranges and Crouch Jr’s trial. There seemed to be about as many people too.
This could not be good.
“You’re late.” A voice said from one of the high benches.
“Sorry,” Harry said nervously. “I… I didn’t know the time had been changed.”
“That’s not the Wizengamot’s fault. An owl was sent to you this morning. Take your seat.”
Harry eyed the chair in the middle of the room, the one that could wrap chains around the seater’s arm, as he remembered from the trial he had seen. The trial that had ended with the Lestranges being sent to Azkaban for life. A cold sweat started to trickle down his back, and Harry found his feet frozen to the floor in fear.
“Well, hurry up!” the same voice said, but Harry still couldn’t move.
Before he could open his mouth – though he wasn’t sure anything was going to come out of it – the door opened again to angry mutterings from the people in the room.
“What’s this?” Cornelius Fudge said, leaning forward in his seat so that Harry got a good look at him for the first time. “This is a closed session.”
Harry turned to face the newcomer, and saw an unfamiliar wizard in dark robes stride inside with confidence. He was tall, with light brown hair and blue eyes. He stopped beside Harry.
“My name is Aloisius Chamberlain, I’m here to represent young Mr Potter.”
Harry wasn’t sure who was more shocked – him or Fudge.
“I was not aware Mr Potter had a representative,” Fudge said.
“Well, naturally he does. As is his right in a disciplinary hearing. Isn’t it?” Mr Chamberlain replied, voice steady and eyes sweeping over the gathered people in the seats.
“Indeed it is,” a witch at Fudge’s left said, interrupting Fudge’s spluttering. “Please take a seat, Mr Potter.”
Unsure what was going on and where this legal representative had come from, Harry hesitated.
“I don’t believe there’s any need for that chair,” Mr Chamberlain said. “Mr Potter is a 15 year-old boy, not a dangerous murderer. He can sit in a normal chair.” The man pulled out a wand and conjured a chair on Harry’s other side. To Harry’s relief, it was indeed a normal chair – comfortable-looking, even.
With a small smile of thanks, Harry finally sat. He was dying to ask who the hell Chamberlain was and how he had got there, but he didn’t want to let on that he had no idea what was going on. He could only hope this man was actually on his side, and not about to screw him over.
Fudge harrumphed, but no one disagreed with Chamberlain’s action, so he continued.
“Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August.” As Fudge began to list the people present – and Harry noticed a stone-faced Percy who didn’t even glance in Harry’s direction – Harry turned slightly to look at his lawyer. Try as he might, he could not remember if he had ever seen the man before, and the name wasn’t familiar either. Could this be someone from the Order? But then why hadn’t anyone told him about it?
Chamberlain noticed him looking and gave him a quick grin that left Harry feeling even more confused.
“The charges against the accused are as follows:
“The he did knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of the illegalities of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus-charm in a muggle inhabited area, in the presence of a muggle, on the second of August at twenty-three minutes past nine, which constitutes an offence under Paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks’ Statute of Secrecy.”
“Objection,” Chamberlain said.
Fudge’s eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
“I object to the charges.”
“On what grounds?” Fudge asked through gritted teeth.
“The muggle in front of whom Mr Potter performed the charm has been aware of the existence of magic for years, being Mr Potter’s cousin. Therefore, the Statute of Secrecy does not apply.”
“He was in a muggle street!” Fudge retorted.
“A deserted muggle street, at night. If we were to arrest everyone who performs spells in muggle streets, I daresay Azkaban would be filled to capacity within a day.”
Harry restrained the urge to smile. Whoever this Chamberlain guy was, Harry liked him already – Fudge’s face was the picture of outrage.
“Well, he still performed a spell, as you yourself just confirmed. And as you also confirmed, he is 15 years old, and therefore underage.” A satisfied smile stretched over the Minister’s face, and Harry felt his own lips turn down in response. That was not good.
Chamberlain, however, didn’t seem bothered. “Clause Seven of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery also states that an underage wizard may perform a spell in the defense of his own life or that of others.”
Fudge spluttered again. “And what danger could he possibly have been in in a muggle street?”
“Well, why don’t we ask him?” Chamberlain said, voice saccharine sweet, “since the facts of that night is exactly what we are here to determine.” He turned to Harry. “Mr Potter, why did you perform this spell?”
Harry fidgeted in his chair and looked around the room. People were looking at him with more curiosity than anger now, and it made him feel a little bit better.
“There were a couple of dementors there, Sir. They were coming for my cousin and me, so I cast the spell to drive them out.”
“Dementors! That’s ridiculous!” Fudge exclaimed.
“I’m sure Mr Potter is willing to provide a memory of the night in question, so that we can clear this matter out quickly.”
Harry nodded eagerly, then frowned. “I… I don’t know the spell to do that, Sir,” he said, feeling like an idiot.
“Don’t worry about it. Madam Bones,” Chamberlain said, addressing the witch next to Fudge. “Would you be so kind as to help Mr Potter? We wouldn’t want anyone to accuse him of doing underage magic, after all.”
There were a few chuckles from the audience at that, as Madam Bones nodded and started to make her way down from where to she was to Harry. Chamberlain had, meanwhile, conjured a Pensieve from somewhere and placed it in front of Fudge, who was looking very unhappy.
“This is preposterous!”
“The defendant being allowed to show his memory of the events he is accused of is preposterous? That’s the law, Minister Fudge. Or have you forgotten it?” Chamberlain’s voice was like steel, and his glare made Fudge flinch back. A few of the others in the high table began to shift uncomfortably.
Madam Bones reached Harry and smiled kindly at him. “I need you to relax and think very hard about that night, all right?”
“Uhm, yeah.” Harry did his best to comply, praying that he was doing it properly and wouldn’t end up revealing things he shouldn’t. He could feel something weird, as if someone was tapping on a door inside his mind. He imagined himself opening the door to the memory of that night, and then a silvery bit of mist was being pulled out of his head by Madam Bones’s wand. Fascinated despite the direness of the circumstances, Harry watched his memory drop into the pensieve, and wondered how they were going to see it now. When he had accidentally used a pensieve before, he had had to press his face right into it. Was Fudge going to have to do the same? And everyone else too?
Chamberlain waved his wand in a complicated motion and the sliver of memory rose from the pensieve to form an image right above it, like a muggle television. Even after all these years, magic could still surprise him, Harry thought idly.
The memory began with Harry sitting alone on the swing in the park near his aunt’s house (not his house, he did not belong there) and played on from there. At first Harry watched it along with everyone else, since it was a bit of a novelty to see it from an outsider’s point of view (even if it was his own memory; he really had no idea how this charm worked), but then the conversation with Dudley started and Harry cringed a little. He had been goading his cousin, even if the stupid bastard deserved it. When Dudley mentioned Cedric, Harry flinched; he’d forgotten what they had been arguing about right before the dementors came. He sent a glance at the high table and saw that everyone, aside from Fudge – who looked like he’s swallowed a lemon – was frowning.
Then the dementors were there, and Harry saw himself fumble with his wand and his first pathetic attempts to produce a patronus. When Prongs finally sprouted from his wand and charged the dementors, Chamberlain sucked in a startled breath beside him – as did the people on the high table (were they the judges? Harry really should have done some research into how the Wizengamot operated. He made a mental note to ask Hermione about it when he got back; she had probably read all about it already).
The memory faded when the dementors disappeared, and Harry let out a sigh of relief.
There was a moment of silence in the room, before Chamberlain cleared his throat. “Well, I think that makes it very clear that Ha- Mr Potter acted in self-defense. I move to dismiss the charges against him.”
At some point during the showing of the memory, Madam Bones had returned to her seat, and she nodded. “Any objections?” she asked.
Fudge opened his mouth as if to speak, then seemed to think better of it. No one else said anything, though they were muttering amongst themselves. The people in the audience seemed too shocked to say much of anything.
For the first time since he had entered the room, Harry allowed himself to relax.
“Well, if that is all, I think we can call his hearing closed.”
“Actually, Madam Bones,” Chamberlain said. “Doesn’t anyone think it’s odd that a couple of dementors were in a muggle neighbourhood? Because I certainly do.”
The murmurs increased, and a few people in the audience began to look a little nervous.
“I assure you, Mr Chamberlain, the matter will be investigated.”
“It’s funny because I was under the impression that the dementors were under Ministry control,” Chamberlain continued, ignoring Madam Bones. “It does not bode well that some of them were able to escape and venture so far out of their assigned areas – and into a muggle town, no less. Unless, of course, they were acting under orders.”
The tension in the room seemed to skyrocket at that statement, angry voices speaking all at once.
A short witch Harry had not noticed before leaned forward. She looked like a large pale toad, wearing a little black velvet bow perched on top of her short curly hair. Something about her made the hairs rise on the back of Harry’s head.
“I must have misunderstood, Mr Chamberlain,” she said with a high simpering voice, “but it sounded like you were suggesting that the Ministry of Magic had ordered an attack on this boy.”
“You did not misunderstand, Madam Umbridge. That is, in fact, what I suggested.”
If Harry thought the tension had been bad before, it was nothing compared to the shouting that followed that bold statement. Harry himself stared open-mouthed at Chamberlain. The man sure had guts to accuse the Ministry of attempted murder right in the middle of the Wizengamot.
“This is absurd!” Fudge yelled, his eyes almost bulging out of his head in fury.
“Either the Ministry has lost control of the dementors, or they deliberately sent them there. Those are the only two options,” Chamberlain shrugged, then hardened his glare at Fudge. “And given how little the Ministry seems to care for its own laws these days…” He trailed with a wide sweep of his hand.
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Didn’t you order Bartemius Crouch Junior Kissed instead of imprisoned for trial, ignoring proper protocol? Didn’t you ignore Mr Potter’s testimony about Sirius Black that claimed the man was innocent of the crimes he was accused of? Didn’t you order the Kiss on him anyway? Didn’t you post dementors in a school full of children despite the objections of school staff and parents? Didn’t you ignore the death of a Hogwarts student a few months ago, and also ignore Mr Potter’s testimony about the identity of the murderer? You should have been the first one to demand an investigation, yet you not only did nothing, you have also been attempting to discredit Mr Potter – as demonstrated by this farce of a hearing.” Chamberlain’s voice had risen to be heard over the roar on the room, and he sounded absolutely furious as he shouted out Fudge’s misdeeds at the top of his lungs. “You have gone far above your power with all these decisions, Minister. And using your position to bully a child, Minister? That’s despicable and low.” The venom in the last words got people to finally shut up and stare at Fudge.
Harry had no idea what was happening anymore, but he was enjoying it – especially when the shouts began again, this time directed at Fudge.
The doors opened again and Dumbledore strode inside. The entire room fell silent. Dumbledore looked at Harry, at Chamberlain, at Fudge and the rest of the people at the high table and at the audience. For the first time in Harry’s memory, the old headmaster appeared genuinely surprised. His usual twinkly eyes narrowed and he seemed like he wasn’t sure what to do.
“Well, now that Mr Potter has been cleared of all charges, we’ll be leaving,” Chamberlain said, barely sparing Dumbledore a glance. Harry stood at once, eager to leave. “And rest assured, Minister Fudge, that I will be keeping a very close eye on your actions from now on, and will take action of my own if I believe it necessary. The Ministry isn’t above the law, after all.” With a last disdainful look at Fudge, he waved his wand vanished the chair. Then he touched Harry’s shoulder and gently guided him towards the door. “Good day, headmaster,” he said without making eye contact.
The shouting in the room began once more, and Harry was almost sorry to miss it. He hoped Fudge would get into serious trouble for everything he’d done.
Arthur Weasley was waiting for them at the end of the corridor, pacing nervously. He jumped when he saw them, frowning at Chamberlain as if he had no idea who the man was either.
“Harry? Is everything all right? Dumbledore just got here.”
“Everything is fine, Arthur,” Chamberlain said. “I’ll be taking Harry home now.”
“What…? Who are you?”
Chamberlain smirked at both of them, threw his head back and laughed. “Mischief managed.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “Sirius?” he whispered.
Sirius – it was him, but… ? how? polyjuice? – clapped him on the back, a huge smile on his face. “Come on, pup, let’s go home before Dumbledore comes out to yell at me.” He took off running to the elevator, Harry right on his heels, smiling himself. Mr Weasely took too long to catch up and the elevator doors closed on his face.
Harry had a million questions he wanted to ask, but he decided it was better to wait until they were back at Grimmauld Place.
=====
They crossed the atrium at a normal pace so as to not attract attention and were soon outside the building.
“We’ll apparate from here,” Sirius said, and led him into a nearby alley. “Grab my arm and hold on tight.”
Harry had never apparated before, and by the time he had somewhat regained his bearings, he thought he never wanted to do it again. It was even worse than the Floo and portkey, and he hated both of those.
“Steady now. Take a few deep breaths. You’ll be all right in a moment.”
Harry did as he was told, and the nausea abated quickly. When he looked around, he realised he was not, in fact, in Grimmauld Place. It was an alley, and he could see buildings and shops beyond it, as well as a park further ahead.
“Where are we?”
“Still in London, near the old flat where I used to live. I thought we could go get something to eat before we go back, maybe chat a little.”
While the thought was very appealing, Harry couldn’t help feel a little apprehensive. “Won’t we get in trouble?”
Sirius grinned. “Oh, definitely, but it will be worth it,” he said, taking off his black robes and stuffing them into his pocket (there was obviously a spell there to make them fit). Underneath, he was wearing jeans and a faded black shirt with a logo on it – some kind of band, Harry thought.
Well, Harry couldn’t disagree with that.
They walked to the park and Sirius got them some fish and chips from a vendor. Harry worried that he might fumble with the muggle money, but he did just fine (where he got the money was a mystery, but really the least of Harry’s worries at the moment). They settled into a bench and Sirius discretely cast a spell, likely to ensure they wouldn’t be heard.
He stuffed some fish into his mouth and sighed happily. “Damn, I’d missed fish and chips.”
“How did you…?” Harry didn’t even know where to start now. He made a vague gesture at Sirius’s appearance as he ate some of his own food. He’d never had fish and chips before, but he found he loved them.
“Transfiguration,” Sirius said. “Sometimes it’s better than polyjuice. The effects last longer if you really know what you’re doing, for one thing. And I happen to be very good at transfiguration; it was always my best subject.”
“I thought… I mean, this morning…” Harry wasn’t really sure what he was trying to say, except that he certainly hadn’t expected Sirius to show up at the hearing.
“Yeah, sorry about that. Had to make it look like I was doing what I was told,” Sirius replied, lips pulled in an unhappy line. “But I wasn’t going to let you deal with that by yourself, pup.”
The declaration made Harry feel warm inside. Other than Ron and Hermione, no one had ever really stood up for him like this. No adult had ever actually done much to help him, now that he thought about it. Harry had always had to save himself, for the most part. Ron and Hermione helped as much as they could when they were there, but they all knew that adults weren’t exactly reliable when the chips were down. And not an adult who actually had as much to lose as Sirius. In fact, that made it all the more significant. Here was Sirius, risking his life and his freedom for Harry – again.
“You could have been caught, though. I don’t want you to go back to Azkaban,” Harry said, torn between the desire to hold on to Sirius and never let go, and beg him not to take any more chances like that, because Harry didn’t think he could bear it if anything happened to his godfather.
“Come on, pup, give me a little credit. I’m not a complete idiot. And I had a plan.” Sirius smiled. The new features were a bit weird, but now that Harry knew it was his godfather, he could see more and more of Sirius’s own face under the disguise. “It worked, too.”
“Won’t you get in trouble for impersonating a lawyer?”
“Did I ever say I was a lawyer?” Sirius asked, mischief shining in his eyes. “I merely said that I was representing you, which, as you legal guardian, I am allowed to do.”
Harry had to concede that point. “But you gave the wrong name.”
“That’s true. But considering that I was illegally imprisoned for 12 years without a trial, the Ministry wouldn’t have much of a leg to stand on if they ever tried to prosecute me for that. Especially now that Fudge’s dirty laundry has been aired out a little.”
Thinking about Fudge and the apoplectic look on his face as Sirius had accused him of being corrupt was very satisfying, Harry thought. “What do you think is going to happen to Fudge?”
Sirius shrugged. “He’ll be more closely watched from now on, at least. There are plenty of people who will remain on his side – the Death Eaters he’s been taking bribes from, for example – but there are also people who will begin to ask questions. And if Fudge starts to lose popularity, maybe the Death Eaters will jump ship and abandon him to drown on his own. And, if we’re lucky, we’ll get a decent Minister in the aftermath.”
Sirius went back to his food and Harry did the same, content to just sit there for a while. It was good to get out of that awful house for a while. Sirius sure seemed a lot more relaxed than Harry had ever seen him. The permanently sour look was gone from his features, and it felt like he was seeing the real Sirius – the one he’d been before all the losses of the war and Azkaban – for the first time.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the plan before,” Sirius said once they had finished their meal. “Dumbledore would have stopped me. Hell, Molly too. Even Remus.”
“So no one knows?”
Sirius shook his head. “Dumbledore told us – the Order, I mean – that everything was going to be fine with your hearing, but he didn’t say how, and frankly, I’m getting sick and tired of sitting on the sidelines waiting for other people to act. Plus, how would I even know that his plan would work? Maybe if he’d bothered to mention what it was. But if he wants to play secrets… well, I have a few secrets of my own.”
“How did you get out of the house?”
Sirius gave his bark-like laugh. “Why, I walked out the front door! I told Remus I wanted to be alone – and everyone assumed I was going to sulk in my room – then I snuck out. It’s my bloody house, I’ve been sneaking in and out of it since I was a kid. Then I transfigured myself, apparated to the Ministry and went down to the courtroom.”
“How did you know the time and place had changed?” Harry asked. “Mr Weasley and I only found out when we got there.”
“I intercepted the owl at Grimmauld Place right before I left. I figured Fudge would have tried something dirty like that, so I was on the lookout.”
“And you just strolled into the Ministry and gave a fake name?”
At that, Sirius chuckled. “Ah, no. I thought about it, but it would have been too risky, even disguised.” He paused dramatically before saying, “I used your cloak. I figured you wouldn’t mind.”
“That’s brilliant!” Harry exclaimed. He had known that Sirius, as well as the rest of the Marauders, had got into all kinds of mischief at Hogwarts, but breaking into the Ministry really took balls.
“Honestly, the security at the Ministry is a joke there days. I’m almost embarrassed for them. The Order has been breaking in to guard the–” he broke off, then continued “thing, for over a month. Also, I used to work there. I was an Auror, you know, so I know my way around.” Harry did not, in fact, know that. “So it was easy to get down to the courtroom levels, confound Arthur for a moment and walk right in. Like I said, Madam Bones is a good woman, I knew she’d do the right thing with the right incentive.”
“So your plan was to use the memory?”
“Yeah. They always keep a pensieve in the courtrooms for that purpose, and I know the spell to show it to everyone; it was part of my training. Figured it would be suitably dramatic and difficult to deny if they saw it for themselves. I bet most of them have never actually seen a dementor up close.”
“Where did you get a wand?” Harry had wanted to ask that since he had first seen Sirius with one, but there had always been something else going on that derailed him.
“Found it at the house. It was my grandfather’s. I’ve been practicing with it for hours every night, trying to get my magic back into proper shape and getting the hang of it. It’s not as good as my old one, of course, but it works well enough for me. Much better than my parents’ wands, that’s for sure.”
As he listened to Sirius’s explanations, Harry was in awe of his godfather. Everyone who said he was impulsive and reckless was clearly full of shit, because that was some impressive planning. Harry himself was pants at planning things – that was usually Hermione’s job – so he appreciated the thought that went into all of it. And for him. So that Sirius could be sure that Harry would get off, without having to rely on other people, even Dumbledore.
“Thank you, Sirius,” Harry said, a little choked up.
“Any time, pup. I’m also working on a plan to get myself cleared so I don’t have to keep sneaking around to help you.” He put an arm around Harry, who allowed himself to relax into the embrace. It felt nice.
“Then I wouldn’t have to go back to the Dursleys next summer,” Harry murmured. God, that would be amazing.
“Whatever happens, Harry, you won’t go back there, I promise you. I’m sorry I was dismissive this morning, but I had to keep up appearances. I wanted to go get you of there this summer, but I was outvoted. Dumbledore, the manipulative little bastard, kept arranging all these little things for me to do, organizing Headquarters and the like, to distract me. He told me that someone was keeping an eye on you – which is why we knew about the dementor attack right away, as you know – and then you were coming anyway, so…” Sirius shrugged. “But I’ve got myself sorted out a bit more now, and I won’t be taking no for an answer anymore.”
It felt too good to be true, so Harry did his best not to get his hopes up too much. Term hadn’t even started yet, and shit always happened at school. There was far too high a chance that something was going to go horribly wrong from here to next June. Still, it was nice to know that Sirius was thinking ahead.
“Also, pup, I’m sorry about the vague letters. I wanted to say more, believe me. I… That house… I don’t like being there, but I’m feeling better now that things went okay at the hearing. It’s amazing what a little bit of fresh air and a sense of accomplishment can do for one’s state of mind.”
“That’s all right.” Harry knew Sirius had been doing his best. And, really, it was a hell of a lot more than anyone had ever done, so he wasn’t about to complain.
They lapsed into silence again, and it was a comfortable one. Sirius’s arm was still around Harry’s shoulder, and Harry wondered if this was what having a father was like.
“How much trouble will we be in when we get back?” Harry eventually asked. Loathe as he was to break their little moment of peace, he knew that they couldn’t stay here forever – even if a part of him wanted to tell Sirius to just… go away right now, just the two of them, and leave all this mess behind.
“You? None. Me? Lots.” He didn’t sound the least bit worried about it, though. In fact, he sounded amused. “But what can they do, really? Lock me up?” He gave a somewhat bitter laugh.
“Well, they could make it harder for you to sneak out next time.”
Sirius snorted. “What everyone seems to keep forgetting, Harry, is that it’s my house, much as I hate the damn place. It answers to me. No one can keep me there if I don’t want to be there. I, on the other hand, can keep out anyone I want. And if anyone pushes me too far, they’ll find I’m not really in the mood to put up with it anymore.”
Harry nodded, glad that Sirius wasn’t in actual danger for defying Dumbledore’s orders. He rather liked this ruthless side of Sirius. Perhaps Harry should take a page out of his book and start standing up for himself a little more. It had felt good to yell when he had first arrived at Grimmauld Place, but then the cleaning and the upcoming hearing had had him too worried to really think of how shitty things had been at the Dursleys – and before.
“Will you tell me what the Order is doing?” he tentatively asked. He hadn’t missed the near slip earlier about whatever it was the Order was guarding at the Ministry.
For a moment, Sirius was quiet, thinking it over.
“I don’t really know every detail of Dumbledore’s – or the Order’s – plans. I don’t get the full reports because… well, I guess not everyone actually trusts me.” There was unmistakable bitterness in his voice, and Harry could sympathise. “But I will tell you everything I know, I promise.” He looked Harry in the eye expression, well, serious. “And you, in turn, will promise that you will not do anything rash, and will tell me about everything that is going on with you.”
“I promise,” Harry answered immediately. It wasn’t a hard promise to make, after all. If there was one person Harry could trust – besides Ron and Hermione, of course – it was Sirius. His godfather had more than proven it. “But what about when I go back to Hogwarts?”
“Don’t worry, I have a plan.”
The grin on Sirius’s face was infectious, and the two of them left the park laughing like loons. Instead of apparating back, Sirius asked Harry if he’d like to try the underground, to which Harry eagerly agreed. As they traveled (Harry under a little glamour disguise just in case), Sirius explained that he had lived in muggle London after finishing school and told him about some of his adventures figuring out how to navigate the muggle world.
It was the most fun Harry could remember having in far too long.
When Grimmauld Place came into view, Harry actually felt sad that their time together was over; they would be back to worrying about Voldemort and the war as soon as they entered the house. Looking over at his godfather, Harry knew that the man felt the same way.
“Well, pup, here we are. Let me do the talking, all right? And remember that you didn’t do anything wrong.”
Sirius ended the magic for their disguises and they walked in.
Ginny Weasley was the first to spot them, and her eyes widened. “MOM! RON! THEY’RE HERE! THEY’RE BACK!”
Mrs Black’s portrait started wailing right away, but Sirius blasted her silent with a purple streaked spell. “I’m done playing nice,” he muttered. Despite being back in the house, he was still invigorated by the victory at the Ministry and that was probably keeping the gloom away.
Mrs Weasley, Ron, Hermione, the twins and Lupin came running in from different parts of the house and they all started shouting together in varying degrees of anger and worry.
Sirius flicked his wand and rendered them all quiet. “As you can see, we are perfectly fine, so there is no need to shout. None of us are deaf.”
Lupin crossed his arms and glared, though it had a lot less heat to it than Mrs Weasley’s outraged look. The twins grinned and gave Sirius and Harry a thumbs up; no doubt they appreciated a good prank. Ginny, Ron and Hermione seemed more worried than angry now that they could see Harry was unharmed.
“Will we be able to talk like civilised people if I lift the spell?” Sirius asked sweetly. Harry had to suppress his own smile, but Mrs Weasley did not seem amused in the slightest.
Lupin nodded, as did the others (except Mrs Weasley), and Sirius waved his wand again. He was clearly enjoying this, and Harry couldn’t even blame him.
“That was incredibly irresponsible of you, Sirius! We’ve been worried sick–”
“We’re fine, thank you, Molly,” Sirius cut her off.
“You could have told me what you were going to do,” Lupin reproached him.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “So you could tell me that it was too dangerous and I should just stay here sitting on my arse like a good little boy? No, thank you, Remus. I’ve had more than enough of everyone telling me what to do.” His voice hardened at the end, then he plastered a smile back on his face. “In any case, everything turned out just fine. Harry has been cleared of all charges and Fudge got a good kick in the arse – metaphorically speaking, of course.”
“It doesn’t mean that–” Mrs Weasley started, only to be cut off again.
“Oh, give it a rest.”
“You should have still come straight back here.” Lupin said.
“Harry and I wanted a chance to go out and stretch our legs a bit. It does get a bit old being stuck in a shitty place for a long time, doesn’t it, Harry?”
Harry nodded, and saw that Lupin at least seemed a little chagrined at the reminder of their situations.
Mrs Weasley, however, was still angry. “Dumbledore isn’t happy at all about this!”
“Bully for him,” was Sirius’s flippant response, which made Mrs Weasley splutter and the twins snigger. Hermione looked scandalized, while Ron and Ginny weren’t sure whether to cringe or laugh. “Come on, pup, I have some stuff I wanted to show you.”
Harry waved a little awkwardly at the others and followed his godfather up the stairs and into a bedroom, where they both dissolved into giggles.