November, 1981
The events of the past week had completely shaken Remus and his friends pretty heavily. The revelation that Peter had been a Death Eater for at least a year until then had left them all reeling. Never, in their darkest imaginings, would they have believed that Peter—meek, unassuming Peter—could have betrayed them so utterly. The thought that he had been willing to sell out his oldest friend to Voldemort, to hand James over to be killed, for some selfish motive that Remus still could not fathom, was beyond reason. It bordered on madness, leaving him teetering on the edge of his own sanity.
Remus felt as though the ground had been pulled from beneath him, every assumption he had made about loyalty and friendship now shattered. The very notion that Peter, the same Peter with whom they had shared years of camaraderie, could betray James and Lily so callously, was too much to bear. How had he become so twisted, so blinded by fear or greed, to the point where he would choose treachery over loyalty? The entire situation gnawed at Remus, leaving him not only grief-stricken but filled with a deep, haunting confusion. Worst of all, he feared he might never truly understand the depths of Peter’s betrayal or what had driven him down such a dark path.
The memories of that fateful Halloween night flooded Remus’s mind as he walked through the Ministry halls alongside James, who was now called to testify. Sirius had been imprisoned on the first of November, as he was believed to be the primary suspect after being found alone in the crime scene. Remus had only heard fragments of the tale, pieced together from second-hand accounts and retellings of the events. From what he could gather, the sequence of that dreadful night unfolded as follows: Peter had arrived at the Potters' hiding place, but James had managed to distract him long enough to allow Lily, Harry, and himself a narrow window for escape.
As they fled, Voldemort had already arrived and ordered one of his Death Eaters to destroy the house. James had led his family to safety while spells were hurled in every direction. One of those spells—still unidentified by the Ministry—had struck Harry, leaving a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, though fortunately causing no further harm. The Ministry had assumed that the spell had somehow backfired, striking Voldemort with such force that it had either weakened him to the point of forcing him into hiding or, with any luck, destroyed him entirely.
Once they had reached safety, James had quickly sent a Patronus to alert both the Ministry and Dumbledore. Unfortunately, Sirius, having learned of the attack before the authorities, rushed to the scene. This, tragically, painted him as the prime suspect in the attempted murder of the Potters, which had now led to his trial that day.
“Just knowing they’ve essentially locked him up because of his last name makes me think this will be the most tedious trial we’ll ever have to sit through,” Remus muttered as they walked through the dim ministry corridors.
“How many more of these do you expect we ‘have to sit through’?!” James asked, startled. Remus had never seen him so on edge.
“Bloody hell,” Remus pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself. “I only meant the Ministry’s got its ridiculous way of handling things, so we’ll be here for a while yet.” He sighed. “Did they let you speak to him?” He asked now, expecting to lead the conversation elsewhere.
“Surprisingly, yes,” James replied, his concerned look now replaced by a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“And why’s that?” Remus said, pointing a finger at James’s face. “Why’ve you got that look on your face?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, really.” James waved his hand dismissively, but that didn’t do anything to ease Remus’s concern.
Remus stopped in his tracks, stepping in front of James to block his path. “James. What did you do?”
“Y’know,” he chuckled, “considering the Ministry’s got its strict rules, you’d think they’d do a quick check on whoever’s meant to meet face-to-face with a convict,” James remarked casually.
“What?”
“I gave him veritaserum.”
“What?! ”
“I mean, he’s got nothing to hide, and it’ll speed things up, don’t you think?” James started explaining. Remus felt like he might need a swift kick to the head to get his bearings. That, or a stiff drink. Probably both.
“James, that’s illegal,” Remus finally managed to get out, realising his jaw had dropped, and he’d been standing there like that for a few seconds.
“What?”
“Veritaserum’s banned in court! Why’d you go and do that? If they find out—”
“But they won’t!” James placed both hands on Remus’s chest, giving what he seemed to think was a comforting pat. “Listen, Sirius doesn’t even know he’s had it, and the effects’ll wear off before the first half hour or so. It’ll be completely fine!”
“What do you mean ‘he doesn’t know he’s had it’? Are you out of your mind?”
“No— but I’ve got to admit, I did take a swig of Felix Felicis about an hour ago. Even added some to Sirius’s drink as well, just for good measure.”
Remus sighed, trying to contain himself. Great , he thought, that’s two illegal substances for court, then.
But it was too late now. They stood before the imposing courtroom doors, both knowing that whatever happened inside could not be undone. Remus cast a glance at James before giving the heavy doors a firm nudge, pushing them open. Together, they stepped into the grand room, where people were already finding their seats. The low hum of voices, a mix of hushed murmurs and whispered conversations, filled the air, blending with the soft rustle of robes and the occasional scrape of chairs. Everyone of importance to the trial had already arrived, their faces set with grim determination. Witnesses, jurors, and Ministry officials—all present, waiting for the proceedings to begin. The only person still missing, the one around whom the entire trial revolved, was the defendant himself: Sirius Black.
Bartemius Crouch Sr. sat with an air of cold authority, his demeanour exuding a forced sense of superiority. It appeared that he would be presiding as today’s judge, Remus assumed. He had also been informed that the role of prosecutor would be filled by a man named Amycus Carrow, though it remained unclear whether Sirius would be assigned legal representation or left to defend himself. At the centre of the courtroom stood a small, cylindrical, cage-like cell, encircled by rows of seats arranged in a horseshoe shape. The very notion of Sirius being confined there for hours on end, subjected to judgement for a crime he had not committed, made Remus uneasy. He could only hope that the trial wouldn’t drag on. Remus and James took their seats, waiting for the trial to begin.
The judge got to his feet and banged the gavel a few times against the small wooden block. The room went dead silent, everyone turning their attention to him.
“The trial’s starting now,” he announced, his tone dripping with arrogance. Then, he turned his gaze to the Aurors by the doors. “Bring the prisoner in.”
The Aurors raised their wands, pointing them at the cage in the middle of the room. It started to rattle, the sound of screeching metal filling the air, as if some platform was lifting. But after a few moments, nothing happened—the cage remained empty, leaving everyone glancing around, puzzled.
“I said bring him in,” the judge repeated, his voice edged with irritation now.
“He should’ve been in there by now,” one of the Aurors replied, staring at the empty cell in confusion. “He was just here a few minutes ago—”
The Auror’s fumbling attempt at an explanation was abruptly cut off as the heavy courtroom doors swung open with a loud bang, revealing a very nonchalant Sirius Black standing at the entrance.
“Apologies for the delay,” he said, offering the judge a casual, almost cheeky grin. “I just fancied a bit of fresh air. Your cells are rather on the crampy side, wouldn’t you say?”
The room immediately erupted in whispers and murmurs, a mix of shock and disbelief rippling through the onlookers. Remus turned to look at Sirius, who was dressed in a casual outfit that seemed completely out of place for the occasion. To top it off, Sirius wore a pair of sunglasses and held a can of soda in his right hand, as though he had just come from a leisurely stroll. Under different circumstances, Remus might have found the sight amusing, even absurd, but now he felt only an uncomfortable knot in his stomach.
Before Sirius could take more than a step forward, the two Aurors stationed by the door sprang into action, quickly restraining him. They pulled his arms behind his back with practised efficiency and began leading him toward the cell, his would-be seat of judgement. As they did, the soda can slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor and spilling its contents across the stone surface.
Remus let out a quiet sigh, feeling the tension build in his chest. Never in his life had he so desperately needed a glass of whisky.
Once Sirius had been locked in the cell, the judge officially commenced the trial. Bertha Jorkins, a witch who had attended Hogwarts at the same time as them, had been appointed as Sirius’s defence solicitor. That is, if Sirius even let her do her job. Poor woman.
With the judge’s nod of approval, Carrow rose from his seat and walked to the centre of the courtroom, near where the cell was positioned. He began his statement against Sirius, recounting the Ministry’s version of the events from that Halloween night.
"On the night of 31st October of this year, an attempted murder was carried out against the Potter family. The defendant, Sirius Black, aged 21 at the time of the incident, was discovered at the scene when Ministry officials arrived in response to a report made by Mr Potter himself. Given his presence at the location and the circumstances surrounding the attack, Sirius Black was immediately identified as the primary suspect in this case…"
Carrow was still rattling on, going over the same story Remus had heard a thousand times and read even more in the papers. It didn’t sit right with him that Sirius was locked up, especially when James Potter—very much alive—was ready to testify for him. But the Ministry had its own way of doing things, as always.
Remus sat with the others in the crowd, most of them friends there to support Sirius. Lily was next to him, quietly reassuring him with her presence as the trial dragged on. When the prosecutor finally wrapped up, the judge called forth all the witnesses for the prosecution to testify.
The judge and Sirius’ solicitor listened closely to a variety of absurd testimonies from the locals. Some were clearly attempts to stitch him up, blatantly trying to frame him, while others—like those who had obviously confused Sirius with his presumed-dead brother Regulus, a Death Eater who had gone missing about a year ago—were just completely lost. To Remus, these witnesses were not merely mistaken; they were downright thick.
However, he had to admit that when a witness mentioned a black dog appearing at the scene, he nearly lost it and had to suppress his laughter.
After all the witnesses had testified, Sirius’s solicitor rose to deliver her opening statement in his defence. Same story once again: Peter betraying them, James barely escaping, Voldemort destroying the house, and Sirius showing up at the worst possible moment. Once the opening statement was over, James was called to the witness box. He stepped forward, waiting for the judge to address him.
After what felt like an eternity, Crouch finally spoke.
“Sir, for the court record, please state your appearance.”
James glanced around, looking a bit uneasy. But soon, his usual casual confidence took over.
“James Fleamont Potter. Witness.”
The judge flipped through his papers, then looked up. “James Fleamont Potter, do you solemnly swear that the evidence you are about to give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
“I do,” James replied with a nod.
“You may proceed with your testimony.”
James then recounted his version of events. He explained how he had escaped, and how his first instinct had been to contact the authorities to protect his wife and son. He hadn’t realised that word would travel so fast, leading his best friend to arrive before any Auror did.
Once James finished his statement, Carrow stepped forward to begin the questioning. This, to Remus, was utterly absurd.
“So, Mr Potter,” Carrow began, “You said that when you opened the door, the person standing there was your friend Peter Pettigrew. Is that right?”
“Yes. My best mate from childhood. Voldemort was just a few feet behind him.”
“But you managed to escape, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“And how, if I may ask, did that happen?”
James chuckled slightly before answering. “Um—”
Well, that wasn’t a good sign.
“So, you see, Mr Carrow, it was Halloween…”
“I’m aware,” Carrow replied, coldly.
“Answer the question, Mr Potter,” the judge cut in, looking irritated.
“I opened the door dressed as a stag.”
“Pardon?”
“I opened the door dressed as a stag. It was Halloween night, we were celebrating.”
Carrow and the judge stood there, dumbfounded. After a few moments, the judge shuffled through his papers—he really enjoyed doing that, Remus noted—and finally spoke.
“So that explains the plastic antlers found at the scene when your family was rescued.”
“That’s right,” James confirmed with a nod.
“Well, that’s one mystery solved.” Crouch sighed. “Mr Carrow, please carry on with your questioning.”
Carrow cleared his throat and pressed on. “Mr Potter, you made a great effort to protect your family during and after the attack. Could you tell us a bit about your relationship with your son?”
“I’d do anything for him. I once turned myself into a dragon toy just so he would stop crying—”
Remus turned to look at Lily, who was still sitting beside him. Without so much as a glance in his direction, she closed her eyes and gave a weary nod, as if this was a regular occurrence that had left her rather exhausted. She then informed him that James indeed didn’t know how to transform back into his human form, and she’d spent over an hour searching for him, casting counter-charms at random toys.
Once James had given his testimony and sufficient evidence had been gathered, he stepped down from the stand and returned to his seat. Now it was Sirius’s turn. Remus had been dreading this moment, but all he could do was hope it would be over soon enough.
The judge’s attention was drawn to the dark-haired young man once again. He proceeded in much the same manner as he had done with James.
“Mr. Black, for the court record, please state your appearance.”
Sirius, stuck in his cramped cell, glanced down at himself before answering. “Leather jacket, ripped black jeans, black boots—”
“Your name, sir,” the judge cut in, sounding fed up already.
“Oh,” Sirius chuckled lightly. “Sirius Orion Black.”
“Have you gone by any other names?”
“Well, yes.” Remus noticed the slight twitch of Sirius’s lips, the barely-contained smirk he knew too well. Fuck’s sake, here we go again.
“And what names are those?”
“Friends call me Padfoot. Handsome, too. Many have even called me ‘ the man of their dreams ’, as well as—”
“That’s enough,” the judge sighed, shuffling his papers in frustration. Once he’d gathered his thoughts, he looked back at Sirius. “Please take the stand. Sirius Orion Black, do you solemnly affirm that the testimony you are about to give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
“I do solemnly, sincerely, and truly declare and affirm that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” Sirius said, deadpan.
Remus shook his head slightly. Why does it seem like he’s done this before?
The judge kept flicking through the papers as Sirius gave his statement. He mentioned that he had sensed something was off with the Potters after hearing alarming screams and explosions from the two-way mirror he shared with James. Without a second thought, he legged it over to help his mate. To his surprise, the Aurors didn’t show up much later.
After he was finished, Carrow, ever the unpleasant git, started his interrogation.
“So, Mr. Black, you turned up at the scene rather early, didn’t you? Earlier than the trained Ministry wizards, no less. How do you reckon that was possible?”
“Well, there’s this little thing called apparition, you see. It lets you pop from one place to another, regardless of the distance.”
“Now, Mr. Black, I’m sure you’re a bright and honest man—” Carrow began, clearly not keen on Sirius’s cheeky tone.
“Cheers. If I weren’t under oath, I’d be tempted to return the compliment.”
The judge banged his gavel three times. “Let’s get back to the questioning, shall we?”
Carrow cleared his throat again. “Where were you before you arrived at the scene?”
“In my flat.”
“So you were there right until you left, is that correct?”
“Is this an actual question?”
“Yes. Answer.”
“Yes, and I’ve been at the crime scene since I arrived,” Sirius replied, rolling his eyes, his sarcasm palpable.
“And what evidence do you have that could prove your innocence?”
That was when Jorkins, Sirius’s defender, rose from her seat.
“I’ll be presenting that,” she asserted.
With the judge’s permission, Jorkins called one of the Aurors, who stepped forward carrying a small box, about the size of a book, with an envelope affixed to the top.
“Pettigrew’s wand was found at the scene of the crime,” she began. “Upon inspection, we discovered traces of the spell responsible for the explosion, proving his guilt.”
Remus had now fully noticed Bertha Jorkins’ grace. She moved and spoke with such authority, she could probably convince anyone that Sirius had stolen the moon, if she wanted to. Thank Merlin she was on their side. She commanded respect effortlessly, without even trying.
Jorkins then passed the evidence to the judge, signalling the beginning of the trial’s conclusion. Closing speeches followed—Carrow, as insufferable as ever—then the judge’s summing-up. Finally, Crouch gave the order, and the jury withdrew to deliberate.
***
The Great Wall of China is estimated to be about 21,000 kilometres long. To Remus, that seemed a joke compared to how endless those thirty minutes of waiting for the verdict felt. The bloody longest thirty minutes of his life.
As the jury filed back into the courtroom, Remus had run out of skin to pick at on his fingers, leaving them raw and red. Crouch, seated once again, struck his gavel three times—what Remus desperately hoped would be for the last time. Each knock felt like it echoed inside his skull. He winced, trying to focus, as the jury took their seats.
The court clerk rose, addressing the forewoman, a stern-looking witch with dark hair, whose mere gaze seemed capable of silencing the entire room.
“Members of the jury, have you reached a unanimous verdict?”
“We have.” Bloody hell, her voice is even more terrifying than her looks , Remus thought.
“And how do you find the defendant—guilty or not guilty?”
The air in the room was thick with tension, like a tightly coiled spring ready to snap. Remus could feel his heartbeat pounding against his ribs, threatening to burst free. His mind wandered for a second—how he could really do with a stiff drink. He stole a glance at Sirius, hoping to offer some semblance of comfort, only to find the idiot preoccupied with fixing his hair.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, though it could only have been seconds, the forewoman spoke.
“Not guilty.”
“I TOLD YOU LOT! I TOLD ALL OF YOU!”
Sirius’s triumphant shout broke the silence like a thunderclap, and the courtroom erupted into a chaotic murmur of voices. Remus, still frozen in his seat, was jolted back to reality by Lily, who had thrown herself at him in a hug. He barely managed to catch her, wrapping his arms around her as his eyes remained fixed on Sirius.
The gavel came down again, that wretched sound demanding order, and the room slowly quieted. The judge cleared his throat and turned to Sirius.
“Mr. Black, the jury has found you not guilty. You are free to leave. You are hereby discharged.”
“That’s it?” Sirius asked, disbelief colouring his voice as the two Aurors began to unlock the cell he’d been kept in.
“That’s it. Best of luck to you—and don’t let me see you back here.”
Remus could’ve sworn he heard Sirius mutter, “Likewise.”
Once Sirius was fully released and had been given back his wand, he sauntered toward the exit, his usual swagger returning. Just as he was about to step out, he spun dramatically on his heel, turning back to the judge. Remus sighed internally—this was going to be something, and he’d definitely need a Calming Draught once all this was over.
“Your Honour?” Sirius called out, voice sweet with mock innocence.
“Yes, Mr. Black?” The judge replied, an edge of irritation creeping into his tone.
“There’s just one more thing I need to say.”
“Mr. Black, the trial is over. Any further statements have no legal standing—”
But the music silenced the judge. With a single flick of his wand, Sirius had made every speaker in the courtroom obey his command. Just as Remus heard the first chord, the thought of returning to this very courtroom crossed his mind. Except this time, he’d be the one standing in the dock, and this time, the trial would be for an actual murder. And he would be guilty.
Remus Lupin was going to kill Sirius Black.
He had to fight the urge to jump from his seat and launch himself at Sirius as the first verse of Oh! Darling by The Beatles echoed through the room, and Sirius made his dramatic exit.
Oh, darling
Please, believe me
I'll never do you no harm
Believe me when I tell you
I'll never do you no harm.
***
“Bloody Beatles? Are you serious?” Remus began, shaking his head as they walked through the cold London streets. He only realised his mistake a moment too late.
“Well, yeah. I’m Sirius,” the dark-haired boy quipped, smirking like the cheeky sod he was.
“You’re lucky James slipped you that Felix Felicis. You’d have been done for otherwise.”
“Oh, I didn’t take that,” Sirius said, waving a hand as if it were nothing.
“Yes, you did. And the Veritaserum. James spiked your drink.” Remus figured Sirius should know at some point. Though, judging by his expression, Sirius wasn’t even phased.
“I know. I pretended to drink it.”
“What?”
“Oh, come off it, Moony. I know my potions.” Sirius shrugged casually. “James was hardly subtle, and I’ve always had luck on my side.”
“So you’ve been completely sober all this time?” Remus asked, gobsmacked.
“Well… ‘Sober’ might be pushing it.”
Remus rubbed his temples, sighing heavily. “For Merlin’s sake, Padfoot…”
“But hey! At least we’ve got our freedom, and we can go home and listen to that new Bowie track. What’s it called…?”
“Under Pressure,” Remus muttered, the frustration easing. “Yeah, we can do that. But first, there’s a shop on the corner I’ve got to pop into…”
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “A booze run?”
Remus let out a small chuckle. “After today? Absolutely.”
Sirius laughed, throwing an arm around Remus’s shoulders. “You always know how to keep things interesting.”