Arya Lily Potter

Sirius Orion Black watched as every hand of the Wizengamot rose into the air, and heard the court erupt into deafening noise as if he were very far away, watching someone else’s life get turned upside down. He never heard the words that pronounced him a free man; they were lost in the din of the crowd. He knew they had been spoken however, because the chains pinning his arms to the metal chair glowed softly again, and released him with a soft clinking noise. He felt the Dementors withdraw from behind him, felt warmth return to his heart for the first time since his incarceration six years before.

His legs felt weak underneath him as he stood, like his knees were going to fold out from under him. He knew his trembling was a combination of his shock at finally being a free man again, and his severely weakened physical condition. Malnourishment and lack of exercise, along with prolonged exposure to dementors had left him a shade of who he was before. It had been years since his muscles had begun to atrophy, and he knew without having to see for himself that he probably resembled a skeleton more than he did a man.

He knew, in the back of his mind that there were a great many things he needed to do, a great many things he needed to take care of; above everything else, there was one person he needed to take care of. Many of his mistakes had haunted him in prison, replaying in his mind in a never-ending loop. Of all of them, there was only one he had within his power to put right, to do the thing he should have done from the moment he landed his bike in Godric’s Hollow to find the cottage in ruins and the baby crying in the nursery; he needed to take care of his best friends daughter, as he had promised to do so many years before.

The noise and the flashing cameras were overwhelming after years of solitary penitence in Azkaban, he need somewhere quite to recover and think, and he needed the help of his old friends. Thankfully, Remus and Dumbledore reached him before the horde of enthusiastic reporters. They didn’t attempt to speak above the noise of the crowd, they simply grabbed him from either side and steered him from the room.

They made surprisingly good time on the way to the floo grates for an old man, an emaciated ex-prisoner, and a werewolf.

“Remus, may we use your place? It is better suited than my office.” Dumbledore’s voice was steady as he led the way to an open grate filled with bright green flames.

“Of course. Sirius, you know the place, my parent’s old cottage.”

Sirius glanced back the way they had come, where a woman in acid green robes and bleached blond hair was hightailing it after them, her camera man bobbing eagerly in her wake.

“Better go now old friend, if she gets her manicured claws in you, she’ll never let go.”

Sirius cast a startled look back at her, and noting the slightly manic look in her eyes, promptly leapt for the grate and croaked “Cottage of Remus Lupin”, as clearly as he could.

He had never been a fan of traveling via floo powder, and six years of imprisonment hadn’t improved his opinion of it. Taking a sickly, malnourished man and spinning him like a top through half of magical Britain’s fire places was never a terribly good idea. He managed to get his arms out in front of him quick enough to stop his face from meeting the old fashioned carpeting, and scrambled away from the grate just in time to avoid being stepped on by Remus.

Dumbledore followed in quick succession, gliding out of the fire place as if he were a good 40 years younger than he actually was, and graceful to boot. Remus stooped and helped haul Sirius to his feet, where they stood facing each other in an extremely tight silence.

It was Remus who broke it, his voice almost as hoarse as Sirius’s. “Can you ever forgive me, Sirius? I should never have doubted you...” His voice broke at the end and Sirius could see the tears in his friend’s eyes.

“It’s I who should be begging your forgiveness, Remus. If I had trusted you as I should have, if I had but told you the truth, none of this would have happened. I’ll forgive your suspicion, if you will forgive mine.”

Remus closed the space between them in one stride, and embraced him like the brothers they were, in all but blood. Sirius could see Dumbledore over Remus’s shoulder, carefully inspecting a muggle-style wall hanging as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. However one felt about Albus Dumbledore, no one could fault his tact. He and Remus broke apart grinning ruefully and wiping rather teary eyes. Sirius felt like his heart might burst, being able to reconcile with Remus was one of the many things Sirius had long since given up hope of ever happening.

He heard Dumbledore clear his throat before he spoke, his voice soft, “I hope you will forgive me as well, Sirius. It would have been within my power to bring you before the Wizengamot after your arrest, had I had more faith in you. I will understand if you cannot find it within your heart to pardon my mistakes, but I wish to tell you how sorry I am all the same.”

It felt wrong somehow, so see so great a wizard beg his forgiveness. Dumbledore was the strongest and wisest person he knew, and he didn’t think twice before striding over to Dumbledore and embracing him as well. He felt surprisingly frail; it was so easy to forget how old he truly was because he had the demeanor of a much younger man. He could feel the man’s shock at the contact, before he relaxed and patted Sirius on the back in a comforting manner.
Sirius supposed that having a reputation for being the most powerful wizard of the century didn’t lead to very many hugs.

He stepped back but kept a light grip on Dumbledore’s upper arms, “I’ve made too many mistakes to ever hold yours against you. I should never have held back from you in the first place. But you know everything now.”

Remus had walked over to the old couch that rested beneath the broad window at the front of the cottage. He sat down heavily and placed a tired hand over his face. “Yes,” he agreed, “you know now.”

Dumbledore gently broke Sirius’s hold and walked over to perch on the couch next to Remus. He put a comforting hand on Remus’s shoulder. “I do not hold your adolescent misbehavior against you Remus. Your lot in life has never been an easy one, and you would have been hard pressed to stop them anyway. I think we can all agree that we have all made a series of grave errors in our past. I for one think that forgiveness is due all around, don’t you agree?”

Remus removed his hand from over his eyes and gave Dumbledore a rather disparaging look before grinning ruefully and shaking his head. “You mean let go of my guilt and self-loathing instead of dragging it around with me everywhere I go? Yes, I suppose forgiveness does sound better than that.”

Dumbledore smiled, and Sirius surprised himself by barking a laugh, it was a foreign sound to him now, it had been over six years since he’d had occasion for mirth.

“We have a lot to discuss,” Dumbledore said, looking up at Sirius. “But I think Remus and I can both agree that you getting a shower is at the top of our priority list.” Remus almost sprang to his feet he moved so fast.

“I’ll grab you a towel and find you some robes that should fit alright. You should go get cleaned up, the washroom is at the end of the hall, the door on your right.”

It had been a long time since Sirius had given any consideration to how bad he must smell. He had long since ceased to notice the grime and the stench of prison, but he supposed that along with being a dreary sight to behold, he probably smelled like the wrong end of a skrewt. He nodded, and almost moaned at the thought of hot running water and flushing toilets.

When he entered the room a few moments later, gingerly holding a towel and a stack of clean robes away from his grimy body, he started in surprise at his reflection in the cabinet mirror. He looked less like a skeleton and more like a cross between a scarecrow and a not
terribly fresh corpse.

He blinked at himself owlishly for a moment, then quickly swung the cabinet door open and located the item he’d been hoping to find; a pair of scissors. He was forced to look at his reflection again as he hacked at his hopelessly snarled and matted hair. He cut it very short, knowing he could get Remus to help him regrow it later. He and James had singed their hair off enough times in school that Remus had gotten very good at the charm. He carelessly tossed the hacked off lengths into the bin before stripping of his soiled stripped prison robes, and wadding those into the bin as well.

He adjusted the tap as hot as he could stand, and stepped under the streaming water with a sigh of relief. He braced himself against the side of the shower stall; standing under the rushing water and watching the filth of the last six years of his life go down the drain. It was enough to make the water discolored, and he grabbed the bar of soap and scrub brush and vigorously scrubbed away at his skin. By the time he stepped out of the stall, he was pink from the heat and scrubbing at his skin so hard. It was a welcome change from sickly pale and dirty, however. The robes Remus had provided were the right height, though they draped off of his thin frame. He had forgotten the feel of clean cloth against his skin; he had never really thought to miss the simple things, for they had been lost among the larger regrets and overwhelming grief. Now that he had the presence of mind to appreciate them, they were a great comfort.

When he returned to the combined sitting room and kitchen, it was to find that Dumbledore had left while he was away. Remus was standing over the stove, and the smells drifting from the pans he was directing with his wand were causing serious danger of making him drool on the floor.

“Bloody Hell, that smells like heaven.”

Remus turned around and raised an eyebrow at him, “Nothing like a few years of near starvation to improve your opinion of my cooking, I see.”

Sirius barked another laugh; he didn’t remember that Remus had been much of a cook before, but he seemed to have become more self-sufficient in that regard. He gestured to the table and said, “A package came by owl for you, I didn’t open it. Dumbledore had some business at the school to take care of, said he’ll be back later though.”

Sirius nodded and headed over to the table with a last glance of longing at the stove. He was distracted by the long thin package on the table, and tore off the paper eagerly, guessing what was inside. He was right, it was his wand. He gripped the handle firmly and felt warmth and familiarity surge up his arm. Most wands of criminals who received life sentences were snapped after the trial and sentencing but as he had never had an official trial; his wand had remained in the archives at the ministry.

There was a letter as well; he slit the seal of the heavy envelope with the tip of his wand, and read quickly. It was from the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones. She wanted to set up a meeting with him after he’d had some time to recover, to take an official statement regarding Peter Pettigrew. She also informed him that there was to be an official inquiry into the matter of his lack of trial, and suggested that he consider whether he wished to press charges. She was refreshingly frank in suggesting that the ministry would be willing to settle a large sum of money in compensation for his suffering if he wished to pursue a suit. She also included a pardon for his illegal Animagus status, though he would have to register at the ministry within the month. She concluded by wishing him well, and with hoping that he would contact her within the next week to work out the details of his new status as a free citizen.

He set the letter down and sat at the table, idly drawing his wand between his fingers. She had made no mention of the custody of Arya Potter, but he suspected that he would have to take that matter up with Dumbledore. The old man would never have let control of her protection slip from his grasp; it was too important. He was diverted from his thoughts when Remus slid a dish of steaming food in from of him.

“Try to eat it slowly or you’ll just make yourself sick.” He waved his wand, and a glass of water and half a bar of chocolate floated onto the table. “If you keep this down, you can have more later; getting you healthy again is going to take some time. In fact, a trip to St. Mungos wouldn’t be a bad idea either.”

Sirius grunted his agreement through the large forkful of food he had just shoveled into his mouth, and Remus rolled his eyes at him in an almost painfully familiar way. Sirius tried to slow himself, but it was barely a few minutes later that he was scraping crumbs and gravy from the bottom of his plate. He gulped some of the water and crammed a large bite of chocolate into his mouth. One of the best methods of shaking off the effects of a dementor was the consumption of chocolate, and though he felt it warm him slightly, he figured he’d have to be fed a steady diet of Honey Dukes finest chocolates for a couple of years before he felt completely better. He suggested this to Remus, who agreed with him, on the condition that it be funded out of Sirius' account instead of his.

“Do I still have an account? I’d have figured they’d have cleared that out after they chucked me in prison.”

“I’m sure they’d have liked to, but the goblins have their own policies for those situations. As far as I know, your account was frozen and would have been held that way until your death. If there was no one named on your will, the Ministry may have been able to seize it then.” He hesitated before continuing.
“Are you aware that the Black family vault is now yours as well?”

Sirius rocked back in his chair, stunned. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more; that his mother had died, or that he’d been the one to inherit. “The old hag finally bit the dust then?”

Remus gave him a look for his choice of words, but nodded his head anyway. Sirius didn’t grieve for her. He had very few fond memories of his family, and none of them had involved his mother. The Black family was old, prestigious, and liked to think of themselves as traditional. He had often told them that they weren’t as traditional as they liked to pretend, otherwise it would have been his father who was the abusive parent. After every such remark, his mother would oblige him by proving his point. Even though he didn’t feel grief for her, he did feel strange about it; he’d run away and been disowned at the age of sixteen, but it was still shocking to be told that the woman who had brought him into the world was dead. It was also somewhat of a relief. His parents had been the source of much of his misery in his pre-prison days, and now both of them were gone. Why the hell had he inherited? He had figured that the Black family vault would transfer to his cousin, and thus to the Malfoy family.

And then he remembered the Black family rules of inheritance, and almost started laughing; the last male heir of the Black family would inherit automatically in the occurrence that no other heirs remained. The Black family procedures of inheritance were very traditional in that regard and the magically binding clause took no notice of his name being blasted off the family tree, either.

He was now technically the head of the Black family, even though there was no one left other than him. Then he groaned. “Nooo, I’ve inherited the house!”

Remus looked slightly baffled by his dismay, “Sirius, I know you have bad memories of that house, but still; a house is a house. I think most people would be thrilled.”

“I hate that place, Remus. And it may very well hate me right back. It’s been in the family so long, the entire place is infested with magic. And I wouldn’t be surprised if it remembers me as well. I wouldn’t go back there to live if there was a nice gutter as an alternative. With my luck I suppose the old elf outlived her as well.”

Remus shook his head at him in mild disbelief, but all he said was, “Stay here instead then. It won’t take much to fix the old spare bedroom up for you. There’s not a lot of space, but neither of us has many possessions, and I’d be happy to have you for however long you want; be it just until your back on your feet, or if you want to move in.”

“I’ll take you up on that. Not sure if I’ll stay too long, but at least for a few months. Just found out I’m filthy rich though, so I’ll insist on paying rent.”

“I can’t say no to that. Werewolf prejudice hasn’t improved since you’ve been away, and some of its gotten worse. The registries open to potential employers, so I’m not going to pretend my financial situation has been ideal.”

Sirius grunted in derision, shaking his head. They sat for a while, discussing the events of the last six years, Remus doing most of the talking. It felt both strange and very normal to each of them, sitting together chatting casually. It felt as if it had been mere days since the last time they had met, though they talked of the years Sirius had missed. Remus talked of the end of the war, of the current government positions, and of the new Wolfsbane potion that had been discovered in the last year. It was terribly expensive and complicated to brew, but its effects were extraordinary. There had been hope that the Ministry would aid in making it available, but a strong anti-werewolf movement from within was blocking progress; some witch name Dolores Umbridge was apparently behind it.

Sirius was dismayed by the number of known Death Eaters who had bought their way out of prison; an injustice he felt even more keenly then the rest due to his own wrongful imprisonment.

It was rather late in the evening, and Sirius had eaten a few more servings of food, before Dumbledore returned to the cottage. Sirius was glad to see him, he’d been avoiding talking about the one thing he most wanted to know about, because he knew that Dumbledore would be the best informed on the subject. Dumbledore accepted a cup of tea with a gracious nod of thanks to Remus, and joined them at the kitchen table, placing a stack of papers in front of him.

“I’ve gotten your statements from Gringotts for you, the paperwork naming you the Black family heir, and all the documents for your vaults and the house at Grimauld Place. I also took the liberty of scheduling you an appointment at St. Mungos hospital for tomorrow morning at 11am; I hope you are not offended. We cannot act quickly enough where your heath is concerned.”

Sirius shook his head, impatient to discuss another matter. “Not at all, we had discussed that as well. And thank you for bringing the paperwork as well, that will save me some trouble at the bank. I want to discuss something else, however. No one has mentioned Arya; I assume she is still with her muggle aunt?”

“Where the blood wards have kept her safe, yes.” He pulled a sheet from the pile and studied it for a moment before handing it to Sirius. It was a copy of James and Lily’s will; they had left everything to their daughter, and they had left her to Sirius. Custody was explicitly stated that he was to be given full guardianship upon the event of they’re death.

Sirius had known this, he had agreed to it when they had named him godfather, but it took his breath away to see it.

Dumbledore sighed, and continued, “They’re will is clear enough, and now that you have been cleared of all charges, your claim will not be disputed by the law. But I must advise you to think about this carefully, Sirius. The blood wards with her aunt and uncle give her a great deal of security, and moreover, I cannot recommend removing a young child from her family. She will not have been told of her fame in the Wizarding world, and her upbringing has been with muggles. Removing her from the only family she has known, to a world she has never seen could be very traumatic.”

When Sirius spoke again, he did so slowly; thinking through his emotions and his options as he went. “I know James and Lily could never have anticipated this situation, but I know they didn’t want her to go to her sister; they didn’t get on well with each other. But I can’t imagine they’d want her torn away from a happy family either. I’m not going to swoop in and separate her from a family that loves her just because I legally am able to. If... If she’s happy and cared for where she is, then they can retain custody; but I want visiting rights. She needs to hear about her parents, and Petunia never knew James, she barely maintained contact with her sister either.”

He paused and looked up at Dumbledore, “If she’s being mistreated on the other hand, I won’t hesitate to take her. I know the Wards are strong protection, but we have means protecting her as well. We could put a Fidilius charm around our home, and do it right this time, make you the Secret Keeper, Albus. The wards don’t protect her when she’s away from her home either, it wouldn’t be that different.”

Dumbledore actually looked proud of him as he nodded he assent. “You have thought this through, I see. I can make no other logical argument. Who will decide if her treatment there is acceptable?”

“All three of us together, I think. We knew James and Lily best, after all.”

“Very well. I suggest we give you time to recover and settle back into the world first, however. Your appearance, I hope you won’t mind me saying, is rather startling, though vastly improved from earlier today. A better haircut, some square meals, and a treatment from St. Mungos should make a drastic difference.”

Sirius chuckled and ran a hand ruefully through his hacked off hair. “Fair enough Albus, I’d hate to scare the poor girl. How about next Saturday? We can pay the Dursleys’ a surprise visit and see where things stand.”

They both agreed, and the discussion moved on to less charged subjects as the night wore on, and Remus was eventually prevailed upon to break out an old bottle of wine and a tray of slightly stale chocolate biscuits.

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

Miles away in the heart of London, Amelia bones sat down at her desk with deep sigh of relief.

Her day since the end of the trial had been a blur of meetings, press releases, and damage control. Her department had swarmed like an overturned beehive, and she had been at the center of it all. Their current Minister, Cornelius Fudge, was unfortunately a career politician who was entirely incompetent during a crisis. Thus the bulk of the burden fell to her shoulders. She was proud to say that she was at least better up for the challenge than the Minister was, but she was still feeling the strain.

She had barely settled into her chair when her door opened once again, and though she had been expecting her visitor, she couldn’t help but feel resigned to the meeting.

“Madam Pettigrew, thank you for meeting with me, please have a seat.”

The old woman moved forward slowly, walking with a cane with short, shaky steps before sinking into the chair placed before her desk. Her face was lined with age, and she showed the stress of the day in her downcast eyes, and the way she clutched her hands in her lap.

Amelia felt her heart wrench for her; in many cases, Voldemort’s supporters had learned their hatred of muggleborns from the bigoted teachings of their families. In this case however, Madame Pettigrew was herself a daughter of a muggleborn father and a half-blood witch, who had married a pure blood man, Steward Pettigrew. She had not raised her son to hate those without pure blood, had not raised him with the ideals of pure blood society. Peter Pettigrew had not supported Voldemort because he believed in his ideals; he had simply been a coward who believed himself to be on the losing side. It made this harder on his mother, and harder on Amelia, who didn’t have the luxury of hating this woman; she could only pity her.

“Madame Pettigrew, I have to ask you; have you had any contact with your son in the last six years?”

Madame Pettigrew looked up at her, and then shook her head no. Then she began to cry. Amelia sighed and looked down at her desk, at the list of questions that had been prepared, and resigned herself to a gut-wrenching evening.

“Do you have any idea as to the whereabouts of your son?”

Madame Pettigrew only continued to cry, and shake her head in denial.