Chapter 5
The days following Harry’s discovery of magic were filled with activities to immerse him in the nuances of magical education and culture. This included lessons on the Black and Potter families' histories, their roles in society (yes, the whole Boy Who Lived thing, which Harry didn’t take well—but it was an understandable reaction), general history, French, etiquette, and wandless magic (which also covered a bit of theory on magical cores).
Of course, the lessons didn’t start immediately, but a few days after the boy’s arrival. Harry was in awe of the idea that he possessed magic and was particularly excited about the wandless magic classes and flying practice on his new broom.
In the first few days, they focused on shopping and making sure Harry was healthy. They bought him an entirely new, tailored wardrobe, with fabrics and colors Harry chose himself, guided by Cassiopeia’s advice. Aunt Cass was stern in pointing out that Harry needed to learn to be firm in his decisions to avoid being easily manipulated, as it was important for the head of a family like Harry would be when he came of age. They also tried various hairstyles since Harry had never been given the chance to choose one before. When his hair was cut too short, a spell would grow it back so they could continue until he found a style he liked—just below chin length, with curls framing his face, becoming more manageable with proper care.
Decorating Harry’s room took some time too, but mainly because Lyra insisted on visiting Muggle London so Harry could pick up a few things like toys and clothes he might want. The older Blacks were skeptical, but Lyra reminded them that Harry could have whatever he wanted from anywhere, and that the Black family was free to go wherever they pleased. The idea of limiting that freedom made her raise an eyebrow, questioning the elders’ sanity. She was a Black, and she could go wherever she wanted.
After a month of lessons, the novelty of magic had started to wear off since Harry still couldn’t do much with it beyond making things move randomly. It was at this point that Lyra decided Harry needed to interact with other children, so she arranged a playdate with Draco.
The first meeting between the two boys was interesting. Draco’s eyes sparkled with excitement at the chance to play with Harry Potter and show him all his toys. Harry, on the other hand, was a bit shy, but Draco’s enthusiasm and total lack of suspicion toward Harry’s hesitations eventually pulled the dark-haired boy into the fun. It took a while for Harry to feel comfortable with the blond, but soon enough, both boys were completely absorbed in their play.
The beauty of being young and free of prejudice.
Naturally, their play evolved into one of the games Lyra had invented to help the children practice wandless magic. Harry was at a disadvantage, having had less time to practice, but his magical core was denser than Draco’s, who, in turn, had better control, balancing things out a bit.
Knowing Lucius’s affiliations, Lyra stayed nearby the entire time, though she knew Narcissa would never allow harm to come to a guest in her home. That would go against her values, and she showed—at least as much as a lady could—her approval of the changes Lyra was making within the family, seeing it as a way to restore the Black family’s prominence in magical society.
Lucius, for his part, was surprised by Harry’s presence, but there was a knowing look in his eyes when Lyra and Arthurus hovered around, watching over the children. He seemed relieved, however, that his son wasn’t being excluded because of his own past ties with the Death Eaters.
Harry had, of course, been told about Lucius’s situation, but Lyra also taught him to judge people for who they were and not based on out-of-context information. You had to see the full picture, to know someone, before passing judgment. So Harry set out to get to know the Malfoy family.
Draco, who had been interacting with Lyra for a few years, was a bit spoiled but had a good heart. Lyra had taught him that cruelty was a sign of inferiority and would tarnish his family’s honor. Instead, when facing conflict, Draco was to act calmly, try to resolve things with words or by involving others, and only if all else failed, resort to force. Those who jumped straight to force either lacked the intelligence to resolve things with words or didn’t have enough allies to handle matters politically. Or, perhaps, their opponents were too stubborn to accept defeat. Either way, Draco had become much kinder than he might have been under just his father’s influence—more critical and questioning, too. Lyra’s knack for winning arguments and getting her way had also left an impression on the boy.
Harry liked Draco, and the two children began meeting weekly for playdates. It was agreed that once Harry had learned enough to catch up to Draco, the two would have their lessons together.
Not that Draco was particularly advanced. One of the perks of starting young was that they could progress at a slow, comfortable pace. So, about three more months of intensive lessons would be enough for Harry to catch up with his blond cousin.
Narcissa had already agreed to offer etiquette and dance lessons alongside Aunt Cass, allowing the women to alternate teaching and have some free time, while Lyra’s lessons were taken over by the older women after Walburga’s death. Arthurus and Lucius would handle politics, diplomacy, and how the Ministry worked, respectively. Lyra knew the elders would try to sway the children toward blood purity, but she wouldn’t deny them that perspective, even if she personally disagreed with it. Harry and Draco would inevitably encounter such mindsets, and Lyra wasn’t one to advocate for ignorance. Ignorance had never protected anyone, so instead of forbidding the elders from sharing their views, she made sure to present Harry and Draco with the other side and let them decide for themselves once they were properly informed. Cygnus would teach the history of the Black family—and Potter history just for Harry—while Lucius would handle Malfoy history for Draco.
Lyra took charge of the magic lessons and general history classes, which secretly included Muggle history since the adults didn’t see the point in teaching something the kids would eventually learn at Hogwarts. But Lyra made it a requirement, threatening to stop teaching wandless magic if the others didn’t participate in the history lessons.
And, of course, she got her way.
One thing Lyra added to the history lessons was the concept of misinformation. She mixed false information into the real lessons and waited until the end of the week to reveal what she had done. The children then had until the next week to figure out which information was false, which sent them into a frenzy, researching books to uncover the truth.
This became a regular practice. Every week, Lyra included some falsehoods, and the kids eagerly searched for them, turning the lessons into an engaging game. There was no punishment for failing to find the lie (yet), but there was always a new prize for whoever did. Since they both enjoyed the reward, Harry and Draco teamed up to find the week’s falsehood.
As the months passed, Lyra increased the difficulty by including information that couldn’t be found in books, but instead had to be learned by talking to portraits of historical figures or visiting places like the London Museum, where they once went to see if a Muggle artifact was actually a Goblin-made weapon.
Though the adults were skeptical of Lyra’s immersive teaching style, none of them dared to interfere with the children’s fun. Plus, there was the looming threat of her stopping the wandless magic lessons if history classes were cut.
A side benefit of these lessons was training the children to always question the information they were given, instead of blindly trusting it. This kind of critical thinking had to be taught and reinforced until it became second nature. Lyra was determined not to let anyone turn Harry or Draco into puppets. She might have been using a training method designed for teaching shinobi to spy and investigate, but hey, it was a useful skill!
Harry also learned about the Longbottoms and wanted to visit the couple and meet the woman who would have been his godmother had things been different. However, Lyra explained the stigma the Black family faced because of members who had sided with Voldemort, and how Augusta Longbottom might not be receptive to them. Still, she promised Harry they could meet the Longbottoms once Sirius’s trial was over.
Meanwhile, at Dubh Castle, the Blacks were busy suing various authors for improper use of Harry Potter’s name and image. Not only was Harry a minor, but he had never given permission for his name to be used. With each case they won, the Potter vaults swelled even more, thanks to the settlements, after the legal costs were deducted.
Even history books had to remove Harry’s name, as there was no proof that he had been the one to defeat Voldemort. Without proof, what they published was mere speculation and gossip, and should be marked as such—without using Harry’s name, as he was still a child.
With the new influx of money, Lyra decided it was time to start teaching her brother how to manage it. At first, he was limited to small decisions, using only a set amount from his account for investments. Though he was likely to make mistakes, Lyra saw it as a good practical experience for him to learn how to handle large sums and deal with goblins. It also gave her access to the withdrawal history and an inventory, quickly revealing what had been taken and when—though it didn’t specify by whom.
Well, Dumbledore had held the key to the vault throughout the entire period of activity since the Potters' deaths. That information would prove useful in the future.
All of this buzz had successfully diverted the public’s attention away from Sirius’s trial, stirring a public outcry to determine if there was any real evidence that Harry had been the one to defeat You-Know-Who. Lyra’s strategy, which she presented to Arthurus, had the advantage of planting a possibility in the minds of those in Parliament who would be involved in the trial: what if it had actually been Sirius Black who killed Voldemort?
Of course, that wasn’t the case, but the mere doubt would be enough to ensure that Parliament wouldn’t be unified in sabotaging Sirius’s trial. They would need the investigation to appear as thorough as possible, and to achieve that, they’d need the goodwill of the Aurors.
Arthurus, playing his part, subtly dropped hints to key individuals here and there, allowing the rumor to spread on its own. He reminded people that Pettigrew had been, at best, an average student, never capable of defeating You-Know-Who. Being a good Slytherin, Arthurus appreciated the manipulative nature of the entire plan, and he found himself more excited than was probably healthy for a man his age as he set things in motion.
Cygnus gained a new level of respect for Lyra with her cunning, and Lucius now eyed her more carefully whenever she visited his estate with Harry. Meanwhile, Cassiopeia and Narcissa seemed to view the men as naive. After all, this wasn’t so different from the gossip, rumors, and intrigue women engaged in regularly—just on a much larger scale and planned with meticulous precision.
It was like a form of gossip with surgical accuracy.
The other part of the plan, however, required a bit of trickery, but nothing that couldn’t be arranged: casting doubt on Dumbledore’s integrity. For this, Lyra enlisted the help of the older members of the family, including not just the Blacks but also the Malfoys. Even Lucius wasn’t left out. Since Dumbledore was also Voldemort’s enemy, it wouldn’t be seen as betrayal, even if his master were to learn about the deception.
Polyjuice Potion.
If a few Blacks and Malfoys were seen bad-mouthing Dumbledore, no one would take it seriously, even if there was some truth to what they said. But if they wore other faces? The elders, hesitant at first, eventually agreed to take Polyjuice Potion to transform into ordinary people, even Muggles, allowing them to spread rumors more effectively among the masses without drawing attention. Though prejudiced, they were all Slytherins and knew a good plan when they saw one. They could be excellent actors when it suited them. Above all, a true Slytherin wouldn’t dismiss a solid strategy over something as trivial as personal distaste.
Around this time, Lyra also planted the idea in the minds of the elders about the benefits of acquiring knowledge from all available sources, even if just to discard the incorrect information and gain some perspective on how others think. Naturally, this included Muggle knowledge. She had already been working on this with Lucius, convincing him to allow Draco to study Muggle books, but she hoped this new push would be enough to eventually get the children into Muggle school.
With Harry and Draco spending more time together, they started interacting with Severus Snape, and Lyra wasn’t blind to how Draco’s godfather treated not just her but also her brother—even though he wasn’t a true Black. This made her wonder if the problem wasn’t with her family specifically, but something else.
After spending hours analyzing Snape, Lyra noticed something: he was the same age as her father and Uncle Prongs. The realization hit her like a slap in the face. Snape’s problem was with their parents. They had been at Hogwarts together, and if she was right, it was around the time both Dumbledore and Voldemort were recruiting students for their causes.
Snape had been a Slytherin, as she found out by asking Lucius.
Sirius, James, and Remus had been Gryffindors.
It wasn’t hard to piece things together.
Lucius was older and couldn’t have been around all the time. Lyra also knew there wasn’t a Snape family among the magical elite, which meant Snape was, at best, a half-blood. In Slytherin. That couldn’t have been easy, especially during a war centered on blood purity, considering the type of people who typically ended up in the House of Serpents.
If she was right, Snape had likely been outnumbered, maybe even isolated, while her father and his friends tormented him. That could explain the almost visceral reaction he had when he saw Harry and Lyra.
Of course, she could be wrong, and he might simply hate all Gryffindors—and by extension, their parents.
Another thing she knew was that Snape was now a professor at Hogwarts. Potions Master.
That, in itself, struck her as strange. If her earlier assumptions were correct, teaching at the school would be like standing behind enemy lines, considering Dumbledore appeared to lead the opposition. It left Snape completely alone in what was potentially a traumatic environment from his childhood.
Was he a spy?
Possibilities, possibilities...
Lyra needed more information before jumping to conclusions.
But first, she had to ensure that man stopped being an insufferable idiot toward her and her brother. Now that she had concluded that her family name wasn’t the issue, she might as well approach the situation head-on.
“So... how long do you plan on taking out your problems on children?” Lyra asked, sitting across from Snape after the children had left to play and before the man could make his exit.
“My only problem is being surrounded by sniveling, incompetent brats,” he spat back, irritated.
Lyra tilted her head, maintaining eye contact with the professor, her expression clearly skeptical.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Professor Snape,” Lyra decided to “grab the bull by the horns,” as Muggles say, and go straight to the point. “Your issues with our parents or whoever else are your issues with them. But if you take that out on me or my brother, then it becomes my problem.”
“And is that supposed to be a threat?” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re just like your father. Arrogant and completely detached from reality. You’re nothing but a whiny child.”
“I have no idea what your issue is with my father, Professor Snape, and honestly? I’m not interested. As you so kindly pointed out, I’m just a child and would prefer, as much as possible, not to be dragged into other people’s problems,” she said, sounding like an adult watching children fight in a sandbox over something suspicious they’d found. “Not that I’ve had much success so far, considering Dumbledore stole my brother away and left him to be beaten and starved, all while claiming he was perfectly safe the whole time,” she scoffed in disdain. “Give me a few more days, and you’ll see how I deal with my enemies. But that’s beside the point. What I want to know is this: do you intend to make yourself my enemy too, Professor Snape? Because I can assure you, I’m not my father, and I don’t fight my battles the same way.” Lyra rose from her seat and walked toward the door, pausing just before leaving to deliver her parting words. “I’d prefer not to have you as an enemy, but if you treat me or my brother like one, then that’s exactly what you’ll become.”
With that, Lyra left, ignoring Snape’s piercing gaze as she went to find her younger brother and cousin, eager to introduce them to a new wandless magic game.
Snape:
Meeting Lyra all those years ago had been... aggravating. Seeing that girl, the daughter of his childhood tormentor, walking around like the world owed her something, carrying the same entitled attitude he had been so familiar with during his own school years, was at the very least unpleasant.
Even when Lucius and Narcissa talked about her cunning, how she was a Slytherin at heart, he didn't pay her much mind. Just looking at her was enough to drag him back to those darkest days of his youth. She reminded him of the people who, alongside his Muggle father, had made his life hell, destroying what should have been his brightest years. They’d ruined everything good for him, so why should their children enjoy anything better?
When Lyra cornered him after the children had gone to play, he recalled what Lucius had said about her mind, about her schemes, and about her not-so-friendly relationship with Dumbledore.
But what she mentioned about Lily's son... Albus had told him the boy was safe, though he had never been privy to where this "safe place" was.
She could be lying, of course, but he knew the Black family had gained custody of the Potter boy, despite Dumbledore’s attempts to keep him under his care. At the time, Severus had avoided the news, even going as far as to stop reading the papers, just to not have to constantly be reminded of Potter.
He vaguely remembered feeling some secret satisfaction that the boy was under the Black family's care—until he recalled that the old, dark family had been going through a lot of changes since their new heir had been chosen. Arthurus Black had shifted to a more neutral political stance, supporting causes he would never have touched before. A part of Severus had even thought it might do James Potter’s son some good to know what it felt like to be despised.
Kept on the brink of starvation...
Severus had made an Unbreakable Vow with Dumbledore to keep the child safe. The idea that the headmaster might have knowingly sent the boy to such a place was disconcerting, though not beyond belief, given how the man had handled school bullying when Severus was a student.
Then there was the prophecy. The prophecy he didn't know in full, but one that centered around Potter. It made strategic sense to keep the boy close, emotionally dependent on Dumbledore, so he’d follow the headmaster's lead.
But Severus's Vow had never been about defeating Voldemort—it was about protecting Harry Potter.
Even now, he could feel the Vow tugging at his magic, warning him of the consequences of his negligence.
He sought out the newspapers that had reported on the trial that granted the Blacks custody of Potter and reviewed the evidence presented. He needed to know what had happened if he didn’t want to end up dead or stripped of his magic like a Squib due to some technicality in his vow.
Finding out that the young Black girl had told the truth was irritating, but not unexpected. There had been a certain confidence in her demeanor that was difficult to fake without years of practice.
Troubling.
If Albus tried anything to harm the boy again, Severus would have to step in, lest the Vow’s warning grow into a real punishment. Ignorance would no longer be an excuse, and he doubted magic would accept it as a defense in the future.
Then he recalled Lyra's threat and realized that if he wanted to avoid dying prematurely due to that blasted Vow, he would need at least a modicum of the children's trust when they came to Hogwarts. Either that, or he’d be forced to protect them while they fought him at every turn. He might have been able to handle Potter alone—children were easy to manipulate—but the girl had a sharp intellect shining in her eyes. Making things harder for himself was unnecessary and reckless, especially with the eventual return of the Dark Lord—a suspicion he couldn't ignore, given that his Dark Mark hadn’t completely faded.
He owed Lily that much: to protect her child.
And seeing how Lyra strategized? He didn’t think his job at Hogwarts would last long if she decided to remove him. He wasn’t foolish enough not to see her influence behind the Potter custody case.
So, he’d have to be... friendlier. Or at least neutral. He would need to keep things neutral with those children.
It would be annoying, especially with Sirius’s trial approaching. Severus hoped for a guilty verdict, but deep down, he wanted the trial to be fair. He wanted the real culprit to face the Dementors. He wanted the person who betrayed Lily to suffer.
If Sirius wasn’t the traitor, then the one who had sold out Lily was still out there, free.
That couldn’t be allowed.
Lupin:
The news of Sirius’s trial and the uncertainty surrounding his guilt reached Remus through the papers. There were still plenty of people who firmly believed in his guilt, but there were just as many now questioning the lack of real evidence.
Especially the absence of the Dark Mark.
All the evidence presented to the public was circumstantial and easily disputed.
That, more than anything, gave Remus hope. Hope... and guilt. Guilt for abandoning Sirius when he’d needed him most, right after their friends’ deaths. They should have grieved together, supported each other, found a way to take care of baby Harry.
Harry... When Remus had returned to England, the first thing he had asked Dumbledore about was Harry and Lyra. He was shocked to learn that both were now under the care of the Black family, despite Dumbledore’s best efforts. That news weighed heavy on his heart, thinking of the children he used to play with, now left in the home Sirius had fled from, a place once ruled by a blood-purist fanatic who was known to use Unforgivables as punishments.
And that woman was now caring for two half-blood children?
The thought made Remus’s wolf growl in anger. The next full moon would be brutal, he knew. His wolf would take the chance to punish him for failing to protect the pups. He began to gather potions and prepare bandages, knowing he would need them after the transformation.
Dumbledore had explained that Lyra had been sent to the Black family immediately, as they were her closest blood relatives. Her mother’s identity wasn’t public, unlisted in any official documents, and her maternal family wasn’t an option. For all practical purposes, Lyra was solely a Black by blood.
Remus wished he’d known this earlier, though he doubted it would have made a difference. No one would’ve given him custody of the girl with his condition—even if it wasn’t widely known. And as for Harry, the boy had only recently been placed with the Blacks. It seemed the Muggle family that had been caring for him had been... incriminated. Albus suspected magic had been involved, and the Blacks had seized the opportunity to take custody of the Boy Who Lived.
They now had Harry and access to the Potter vaults, along with seats on the Wizengamot.
That the Blacks were also responsible for Sirius’s defense made Remus wary, but when he investigated, he learned that Walburga Black had died years earlier, and the family was fractured, with only a few elders and one young heir still carrying the name.
Remus had been denied permission to visit Sirius in Azkaban, as he had never visited before, and with the trial approaching, the Ministry was tightening security. The secretary had assumed he was just another reporter looking for an exclusive.
So he waited, eagerly, for the trial. When the day finally arrived, he was the first in line, determined to be in that courtroom when Sirius was brought in. He sat in the front row, able to see his old friend for the first time in years.
The friend he had abandoned, without even giving him a chance to defend himself.
Squeezed between eager reporters, Remus watched the Black family walk into the courtroom, wearing their typical pure-blood arrogance, which would have been amusing if it weren’t so tragic. What nearly made his heart sink, though, was the sight of the two small children walking behind Arthurus Black, closely followed by an elderly woman with an air of authority Remus didn’t recognize.
Harry, small for his age, was dressed in a black robe with the Potter crest stitched on the back, the embroidery intricate. He followed the adults with wide eyes, looking around nervously. His dark hair was slightly long, falling in messy curls that framed his face, reminding Remus of how Sirius’s hair used to grow long in his youth, though Harry’s had more volume. The boy was strikingly handsome, much like James had been at that age.
For a brief moment, Harry’s gaze swept across the crowd, and the wolf inside Remus caught a glimpse of those unmistakable green eyes—Lily’s eyes.
Then there was Lyra, her gaze far more discreet yet evaluative, scanning the room with a calculated coldness that unnerved Remus. Her expression was disturbingly similar to what he imagined a general might wear while surveying a battlefield before a conflict. Assessing but unafraid, her look seemed to ask, “How many people will I have to step over to achieve my goal?”
She had always been clever, but life had once been easy and carefree. Remus supposed that being left to fend for herself had sharpened her intelligence into a weapon. She walked behind Arthurus without a hint of hesitation, and Lupin couldn’t help but remember how Sirius used to boast about his daughter’s brilliance, recalling how quickly she had learned to speak, walk, and even read.
When everyone was seated, Sirius was brought in, and Remus finally saw his old friend after six long years. Thin, disheveled, and ghostly pale, Sirius was almost unrecognizable.
Guilt weighed heavily on Remus's chest at the sight of him in such a state.
Sirius’s gray eyes immediately sought out the children in the defense section, and he managed a smile and a small wave. Harry hesitated but returned the gesture, while Lyra smiled back, as if they weren’t in a courtroom and her father wasn’t in shackles.
In the distant seats, Remus spotted Arthur Weasley, who seemed conflicted, uncertain of what to believe. But the mere fact that he was questioning things was good. It gave Remus hope that their friendship might be mended. Not that they had officially cut ties, but Remus had never felt comfortable reaching out to the Weasleys, knowing how much they all despised Sirius.
Yes, everyone thought he was a murderer, and Remus had believed it too. But some part of him still saw Sirius as a friend. His heart had never allowed him to truly hate the man with those stormy gray eyes.
As soon as the trial began, Arthurus, who was in charge of Sirius’s defense, started presenting the evidence—or rather, the lack of it—linking his father to the Potters' murder. It was mostly a recap of what everyone following the case should already know by now.
Everything had been carefully planned.
At home, Lyra had played the role of the Prosecution to help Arthurus prepare, and together, they addressed any possible gaps in the defense. They found evidence, explanations, and alibis to counter any potential weak points.
Arthurus was genuinely impressed with her skills in argumentation and strategy. When Lyra played the defense, the defense won. When she played the prosecution, the prosecution triumphed.
He borrowed many of the arguments from their at-home debates for the trial. Like any good Slytherin, he adopted Lyra’s air of easy confidence as he spoke, presenting everything as indisputable facts and laying out a mountain of evidence that made their claims seem all the more credible—even if some points were still debatable.
The thing was, their arguments were well-founded. They’d be hard to tear apart. Hard, but not impossible. All the data they presented helped cover up a few cracks in the reasoning, drawing people's attention away from the one small inconsistency no one would stop to consider.
Arthurus and Lyra used this tactic to smooth over details like witness inconsistencies and similar issues. Not because they couldn’t handle those problems if they were exposed, but because voicing those concerns aloud might make the jury more divided on the verdict for his father. They knew the trial wouldn't be decided on facts but rather on opinions and prejudice.
This wasn’t a trial to prove the innocence of a man. It was a battle of charisma and influence—Black family versus the Ministry.
They needed to manipulate everyone in that room and bring the British magical community to its knees.
Barty Crouch was leading the Prosecution, and he seemed obsessed with seeing Sirius sent back to Azkaban. The man had a reputation for being ruthless in his trials, making no exceptions—not even for his own son.
Lyra had to respect a man who took his duties so seriously, even if he wasn’t the most impartial judge… Well, he wasn’t a judge. His role was more akin to a Muggle Prosecutor.
It seemed Crouch believed his job was to ensure the people he targeted ended up in prison, rather than to seek out justice. He was also incredibly prejudiced against anyone from a dark family.
So while Lyra admired his dedication, she also found him somewhat incompetent, allowing his biases to cloud his judgment. He wasn’t so different from her cousin Bellatrix—just on the opposite side of the war. Both equally fanatical.
The trial was following the script Lyra had predicted. Not because she was particularly prophetic, but because she and Arthurus had allowed the scale to tip in favor of the prosecution every now and then, only to rebalance it at key moments.
At this pace, there would be no certainty of her father’s innocence, and Crouch would use that as a pretext to send him back to Azkaban.
Since he was winning, Crouch didn’t even have to stray from the script he didn’t know he was following.
After all, if all the accusations were circumstantial, so was the defense. Although the principle was "innocent until proven guilty," the Ministry had a nasty habit of ignoring that rule when it suited them. No, Lyra needed to put them in a position where they couldn’t declare her father guilty without creating a huge problem for themselves.
Lyra could see her father, sitting upright with a stern expression, trying to maintain his composure as he was accused of murdering his closest friends. The people who were his family in all but blood.
Finally, the suggestion was made to use Veritaserum to prove Sirius’s innocence.
It came as no surprise when, under the effects of the potion, Sirius told the same story he had shared before—about his innocence and Peter Pettigrew's betrayal.
Nor was it surprising when Crouch pointed out how it wasn’t impossible to bypass the potion’s effects and that a dark family like the Blacks surely had the knowledge and means to do so. Arthurus was almost smiling by this point.
He had been waiting for this predictable trial to reach this exact moment. The time to flip the script.
"And what about an Unbreakable Vow?" Arthurus asked, raising an eyebrow at Crouch, daring him to find fault with his alternative. "He can take a Vow, swearing not to lie during this trial. If he does, Lady Magic herself will claim his life."
Whispers filled the courtroom, as reporters and spectators buzzed with the idea—after all, Unbreakable Vows were not made lightly. No one had ever broken one without severe consequences.
As the name suggested, they were unbreakable.
"So, if the issue is that you don’t trust the truth serum, then an Unbreakable Vow, swearing not to lie about what happened back then, should corroborate his testimony reliably enough, no? Or are you going to argue that magic itself isn’t trustworthy?" Arthurus questioned, pressing on. "Because if you keep pushing to send my grandson to Azkaban, I’ll start to believe that you care more about boosting your conviction record than ensuring the people you imprison are actually guilty. And if Sirius is innocent, I’ll remind everyone here that the real traitor, the true murderer of James and Lily Potter, is still free. If not for justice, then they should pursue the truth for proper vengeance for the ones who died."
And just like that, public opinion and the press were on their side. If Crouch insisted on imprisoning Sirius even with the Unbreakable Vow, it would be hard to defend that he was acting in the name of justice.
The simple fact that Sirius had readily agreed to take the Vow convinced everyone present of his innocence, even before he repeated the exact same testimony under the Vow that he’d given under Veritaserum. Crouch had no choice but to declare him innocent.
The entire trial had been designed to slowly plant doubt in the public’s mind. To present the evidence and show how everything was circumstantial—that there was no definitive proof of guilt.
Gradually, it became clear that Sirius had been judged guilty until proven innocent, leaving everyone with a bitter taste. The prejudice that had blinded people—just as it had blinded Crouch, who refused to acknowledge the innocence of a man simply because of his family name—became evident.
The trial was a goldmine for the press, who suddenly turned their attention to Crouch, questioning if other convictions he had secured had been equally biased. Could his prejudice have sent another innocent person to Azkaban?
Needless to say, Crouch’s once-promising career took a severe hit. His plans to run for Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, with ambitions to eventually become Minister for Magic, quickly crumbled.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore stayed silent in his corner, simply observing. He hadn’t truly believed Sirius would be freed, but he had thought it safer to remain neutral during the trial to keep his options open. If he had taken a side, it would have limited his choices later.
After Sirius—now officially innocent—was freed from his chains, there was a brief discussion about the legal procedures to finalize his release. Arthurus insisted on financial compensation for holding a member of his family under the influence of Dementors for years without even granting him a trial until Arthurus had pushed and demanded it. Lyra, even back then, had witnessed her father’s innocence and Pettigrew’s guilt, and yet no one had investigated.
Then came the part of the trial that all the purebloods (Malfoy and the others they had secretly recruited) had been quietly anticipating.
Arthurus pointed out that Dumbledore, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and a friend of both Sirius Black and the Potters, had a legal duty to ensure Sirius got a trial. Yet his negligence was highly suspicious, especially since the disappearance of Harry Potter’s legal guardian had conveniently made it easy for him to hide the boy without question.
Arthurus then presented documents provided by Gringotts' goblins, showing withdrawals made from the Potters’ vault during the time Dumbledore held the vault key. As everyone knew, that money had not been used to care for the Potter Heir, considering the boy had been raised in constant abuse and neglect by his magical guardian.
Quickly, a rather unpleasant picture was painted for everyone to see.
Unlike Harry’s adoption hearing, which had been private and secretive to prevent Dumbledore’s guilt and the Ministry’s negligence from being exposed, this trial was playing out before the public. After all, Dumbledore had no legal claim to the Potter child.
Arthurus’s speech was eerily similar to the words Lyra had used as a child.
When Dumbledore glanced over at Lyra from across the room, she mouthed something in silence. But he didn’t need to read her lips to know what she had said. A chill ran down his spine.
"Line thief."
Chaos erupted among the audience. Sirius seemed conflicted, unsure how to feel. He hadn’t exactly been privy to much information while in Azkaban. Part of him was outraged that his trial had been used as a platform to attack Dumbledore’s reputation. But another part of him wondered if perhaps it was all true—and that he had been wrong to trust the man before.
That day marked the beginning of the investigation against Albus Dumbledore. Suddenly, every pureblood family who harbored resentment against the old Headmaster became an ally. The fear that their own inheritances or heirs might one day become his target loomed over their heads.
Sirius understood all this just by observing the reactions to his grandfather’s speech. He could see Arthur Weasley’s indignant expression at the accusations against the Headmaster, Lucius Malfoy’s smug satisfaction, and even Augusta Longbottom’s thoughtful, evaluating look.
He desperately wanted to know the truth. To do that, he’d have to dig a little, ask some questions. But first and foremost, he wanted to see his children.