All about Sirius Black
A Glimpse of the Dark Lord.
Life in Little Hangleton was perhaps a bit dull. It might seem to most people that smoke coming out of a chimney was hardly cause for comment, even in July. However, when the chimney in question had not been in use for over fifty years people were wont to comment. The Riddle House had been abandoned ever since the mysterious deaths of old Mr and Mrs Riddle and their adult son Tom Riddle Jr in 1943.
All three Riddles had been found dead in the dining room by the kitchen maid and no cause of death had ever been established. The groundskeeper Frank Bryce had been arrested and questioned but nothing had come of it. No evidence of foul play had been found and the eventual verdict had been death by unknown cause.
The house and the events which took place inside it had been the subject of gossip and speculation for many years. The villagers considered the inquiry to have been entirely unsatisfactory; as there had been no answers at all in the open finding. However, after fifty years it had faded from people’s memory and the house had been left to slowly decay. However, all that changed on one unusually chilly Tuesday in July.
Mrs Jane Berrycloth and Mrs Mary Dankworth were sisters just two years apart. Mary had just had her first baby, so Jane stopped in now and again to help her out. It had been unusually cool for July, however, the sisters decided to brave the weather and head into the village for afternoon tea. There was a new tea shop they wanted to try and Mrs Dankworth had just purchased a very stylish, very expensive new pram for her newborn son; which naturally, she wanted to show off.
They set off at a brisk pace, due to the chill and made their way to the village; where they headed straight for Maisie Rose’s Tea Shop. It was unfortunately too cold to sit outside, so they chose the table right in the middle of the window and ordered tea and scones.
The scones had been dry and the jam was a bit tart, the tea however, was perfectly brewed and all the villagers walking past the shop had a clear view of the new pram and the sleeping baby all wrapped up in his blankets. Gratifyingly, a good number of them had stopped in to share a cup of tea and fuss over the baby and of course, admire his expensive new pram.
In all the excursion had been a great success even before they spotted the smoke. As Jane and Mary arrived at the Dankworths gate; Jane looked up at the sky to judge if there might be rain on the way and if she should head straight home. It was then, she saw the smoke and pointed it out to Mary.
Their first thought was that the house was on fire, but when they realised the smoke was coming from the chimney they hurried into the house to call their Aunt Beatrice. Beatrice Mayfield lived next door to Frank Bryce. The old man still lived in his little cottage and was still employed as the groundskeeper for the Riddle House so he was sure to know about the smoke.
Nasty-minded people said Frank had killed the Riddles because they had discovered he was stealing from them; they said Frank had bought undetectable poison from South America and poisoned the Riddles' food. It was further alleged he had then purchased Riddle's house with money he had stolen from the family.
Frank, however, had continued to live at his cottage and work in the garden every day. The question of why he lived in his cottage if he owned the big house was never really explained but everyone knew Frank had done it; most people were secretly impressed he got away with it.
Sadly, Aunt Beatrice was not able to shed any light on the smoke. All she had been able to get out of Frank was that Mr Riddle had returned and was living in the house. This was of course impossible as both old Mr Riddle and young Mr Riddle had died in 1943 and were buried in the graveyard.
Frank’s information was dismissed, the old man was probably confused. Obviously there was a new owner of the house; which was gossip fodder enough for the village. The question of why the new owner did not sack the old man and employ a younger man to do the garden was another new mystery often discussed.
Jane and Mary spent the next few days calling everyone they knew to tell them what they had seen and speculation ran rife. However, no further information was forthcoming and no one was ever seen going into or coming out of the old house.
Lord Voldemort or Tom Riddle if you were Harry Potter; had no interest in the village gossip. He was, however, very interested in the story his faithful servant Augustus Rookwood had to relay.
Rookwood had been tasked with finding Barty Crouch Jr, who had been spirited out of Azkaban by his father. He had been unable to find where Crouch Senior had taken Barty; as the older man seemed to have moved house and failed to inform the Ministry of his new address. The Dark Lord was disappointed but his interest in Crouch’s living arrangements had been superseded by Sirius Black’s escape from Azkaban.
Lucius Malfoy believed that Black was innocent of betraying the Potters. The Dark Lord knew that Black was innocent but he could not help wondering what Lucius’ angle was; why would the man care about Black? He was Narcissa’s cousin of course but why try and have him released after all this time? It could only be something to do with Harry Potter; Black had been close to the Potters. So he listened carefully to Rookwoods tale.
“Lucius was days away from getting him out of Azkaban. The Wizengamot would have had no choice but to release him, there is no evidence he blew up that street and killed those Muggles. Pettigrew’s body was never found, there was a finger found at the scene nothing more. If the DMLE ever tested Black’s wand the results are gone along with the wand. Now he’s escaped Lucius looks like a fool and the Ministry is in a shambles,” Rookwood snorted.
“One thing though My Lord, I saw Black the day I went out to Azkaban. He was sitting in his cell and I swear, My Lord, he is still sane. His eyes were clear and focused; he asked Crouch for his newspaper and when the fool gave it to him he sat there and read it. Twelve years he’s been in there and it's had no effect,” Rookwood expounded.
The Dark Lord sat in his chair, his fingers steepled together. “Fascinating Augustus, that is very interesting indeed. Your tale about Black has brought back a memory. Sirius Black is innocent, at least, he was not the Potter’s secret keeper. If he had been I doubt I would have found them; if I remember correctly, Black is a stubborn fool who would have died rather than give up the secret. When the Potters went into hiding, I had people watching him, he was preparing to run, I believe he intended to lead me on a wild goose chase away from the real secret keeper. Unfortunately, the real secret keeper could not keep a secret,” Lord Voldemort leaned back in his chair, his expression was thoughtful.
“Peter Pettigrew is a pathetic excuse for a wizard. He is a weak-willed coward with little power and he is completely faithless; he joined me because he was weak and wanted to ensure he was on the winning side or so I believed at the time,” the Dark Lord was clearly deep in thought now and Augustus dared not interrupt his musing.
“I accepted his service because there was something about him, something insidious, that intrigued me. He is devious and cunning yet most people underestimate him and that makes him dangerous. Understand, Rookwood, Pettigrew is not to be trusted. He gave me Lily and James Potter but I find myself asking why,” he paused.
“It is entirely possible Albus Dumbledore’s machinations go even further than I thought. If Pettigrew is still alive, I want him found. Do you understand me, Augustus? I want him alive.” The Dark Lord said. His voice was completely neutral but his eyes flashed when he said Pettigrew’s name.
“Yes, My Lord. I will find him if he is to be found but what of Barty?” Rookwood asked.
“Barty is also clever and devious. He, however, is to be trusted. Now that he is out of prison he will find his way to us. Pettigrew on the other hand, needs to be given no other option,” The Dark Lord said in a dangerous tone, which boded ill for Peter Pettigrew.
“I will do as you say, My Lord,” Rookwood replied.
“I know you will Augustus, you are my left hand now that Severus belongs elsewhere,” The Dark Lord seemed annoyed by this fact but not angry and Augustus did not understand why. It must have something to do with Harry Potter. Rookwood had learned not to underestimate that boy. Frankly, the child’s power and his daring were unnerving.
“Go now Augustus you are dismissed,” Lord Voldemort commanded.
Rookwood rose gracefully to his feet and left without further comment.
The Dark Lord picked up his precious diary; he had spent money he could barely afford to purchase it when he was sixteen. It was his first horcrux and therefore contained the largest part of his fractured soul; he had made this horcrux right here in this house when he was still Tom Riddle. He had killed his filthy muggle father and his grandparents and put their deaths to good use. He ran his finger over the year 1943. It had been fifty years since he tore out this part of his soul; it was probably time to put it back. He knew where to find the ritual and what it would entail. There was a potion which would need to be brewed, it was tricky and would require Severus’ skill.
Yes, it was time, he would reabsorb this horcrux and begin his return to the wizarding world. Only this time, he would be more calculating, more cunning; this time he would be the Slytherin he should have been fifty years ago and Harry Potter would help him.
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One week before the escape from Azkaban
Ron Weasley squinted into the hot Egyptian sun; the Prophet photographer had already taken three photos. Ron wondered how many he could need for one article. Arthur Weasely had won seven hundred galleons in The Daily Prophet Summer Double Draw and he had taken the opportunity to give his family a proper holiday and visit their eldest son, Bill.
The Daily Prophet had given away two prizes this month. It was a Summer Celebration according to the headline. One of the conditions of entry was that winners gave an interview about what they did with their winnings, so the paper sent a journalist to do a story about their holiday in Egypt. The man was going to interview the family after he took the photo. Scabbers was sitting on Ron’s shoulder but he kept trying to sneak into the backpack Percy was carrying. Ron couldn’t blame him; it was hot, really hot out here in the sun.
The winnings had come as a surprise to the Weaselys; Arthur had been forced to forgo buying his usual ticket that month. Ginny had been very unwell after her time in the Chamber of Secrets, she had been in St.Mungo’s for almost two months. It had been quite scary for a few days as the healers worked to heal her mind and her weakened, malnourished body. When she had finally woken up she had asked for Tom and was very upset when he was not there; Arthur still did not know who Tom was, he was certain Albus knew but the man was being annoyingly taciturn about it.
Ginny had been released from the hospital when her mind and body were deemed strong enough but there had been follow-up appointments with the mind healers that were not covered by the hospital and Arthur had been under pressure to find the extra money. Dumbledore who was obviously feeling guilty had offered to help but Arthur had refused his money.
On the day of the big draw, Arthur had found the ticket on his desk at work and it turned out to be the winning ticket for the extra draw. He had some suspicions as to where it had come from Dumbledore was one suspect, his assistant Perkins was another; however, he would never in a million years guess the truth about how the ticket came to be on his desk.
Ron was keen to be done with the photo and interview; he really wanted to get on with the holiday there were still so many more things he wanted to do. Hermione had written to him; she was in France and her letter had been full of the fascinating magic she was learning about. Ron was excited to be able to write back and tell her about Egypt; Bill had told him quite a lot about the curses in the tombs as they explored them and they were wicked.
Finally, the photographer was satisfied he had a good shot and the family went back to the hotel for the interview and some lunch. When they finished they were going out to the Markets; then later they were going back to the Pyramids for something the Muggles called a sound and light show. It was going to be brilliant going back to Hogwarts with stories to tell his friends. Hopefully, it would deflect the questions about Ginny, who would not be returning to school.
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Summer at Malfoy Manor was all about flying, swimming and birthdays; if you were a thirteen-year-old boy or almost thirteen in Harry’s case. Draco’s birthday had been in June, but since he had been at school on his actual birthday he decided he wanted a party in July. Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley as Draco whinged and whined and made demands until he got his way. The party was to be held on the coming weekend in a large pavilion beside the pool. Invitations had been sent and the house elves had been given a list of the required food and a cake had been ordered from Draco’s favourite patisserie in France.
Draco was out in the pavilion, which had arrived that morning, and was giving orders about decorations to the elves. Harry was beginning to worry that if he rolled his eyes any more they might stay pointed at the top of his head permanently; so he slipped away quietly. He decided to go down to the dungeon to Narcissa’s laboratory; he knew Severus was at the Manor; he had seen him at breakfast but had not had the chance to talk to him.
When he got to the door into the Laboratory he stood on his tiptoes to look in the glass window. Severus seemed not to be doing anything dangerous but just to be sure he summoned Dobby and asked if Severus had left any instructions about access to his lab.
Dobby had just vanished back to the kitchens when the door swung open and Severus looked out at Harry with a proud smile. “I am very impressed with you checking so thoroughly about what I was doing in here rather than just barging in. However, I have just finished so please, come in.” Harry followed him into the Lab.
“I thought you were helping Draco prepare for his party?” Severus said as Harry took a seat on a stool.
“There is no helping Draco,” Harry replied. “He has all the elves running in circles and he still isn't happy. It was either leave quietly or hex him into the middle of next week, I doubt he’ll miss me,” Harry said with a shrug.
“You didn’t want a party?” Severus phrased it as a question, though he already knew the answer. Narcissa had been worried about Harry feeling left out because Draco’s party had become such a huge event. Severus had explained to her why Harry would not want a party but still she worried.
Harry shrugged again. “No, not really. I will get more presents than I know what to do with from mother and father anyway and you know I don't like being the centre of attention,” he said.
Severus nodded, just as he had thought, Harry was still getting used to having a family and friends. A party would be too much for him at the moment. “Hummm, alright then. I am glad you came down here, I wanted to talk to you,” he said as he finished wiping down his bench. “Why don't you come through to my sitting room,” he said as he vanished the cloth.
Harry climbed down off the stool and followed Severus to the rooms at the back of the lab; they were basic but comfortable. The room was painted a soft green and contained a small kitchenette, a wooden table and chairs, and a small sofa in front of a fireplace. On the far wall was a door leading to a bedroom and ensuite where Severus slept when he had time-sensitive potions brewing.
Harry sat on one of the chairs at the table while Severus put on the kettle. He amused himself with a potions journal while he waited for Severus to make the tea.
Once they both had a mug of hot sweet tea, only Harry and Narcissa knew Severus preferred sugar in his tea, the older man sat down across from Harry and suddenly looked grim.
“What is it Sev?” Harry asked.
“I want to talk to you about your Godfather,” Severus said slowly. “Your father and Margarite are very close to getting him released from Azkaban and when they do he will be going to St Mungo's for a complete health check then depending on what they find he will be coming here,” Severus said in a neutral tone.
“I know, I already talked to Dad. He told me that Sirius would probably want to take me away, but he can't take me away from you, even if he is my Godfather; Margarite made sure of it. Lily’s will and the statement signed by Aunt Petunia, mean he can’t,” Harry replied.
“I am glad your father has alleviated those fears. However, I need to talk to you about my…er experience with your godfather and father.” Severus said sounding very uncertain.
“You mean James?” Harry asked.
“I do, yes. I am afraid…this is difficult for me Harry. I don’t want you to think poorly of your father or godfather for my sake. However, Black will likely make a big deal about me being close to you,” Severus said his eyes fixed on his cup of tea.
“I did not get along with either Black or Potter at school. Your father hated me from the first time he saw me on the Hogwarts Express and Black followed him. They hated me because I was a Slytherin and because I was a friend of your mother. They delighted in causing me no end of angst as a student; I was a loner and therefore an easy target. Their other two friends were less enthusiastic about bullying me but they did nothing to stop it. Your father was popular and most people loved him, he was the seeker for the Gryffindor team and Head Boy. I was nobody, just an ugly, greasy, haired Slytherin who was friends with the girl he wanted. Your mother was beautiful and she was my friend, your father hated that she liked me. I will bring you her journals so you can read about both him and me from her perspective. However, I wanted you to be prepared for hostility between me and your Godfather. Please try to judge us both on our merits, rather than on the juvenile behaviour you will likely see. Black brings out the worst in me I am afraid and I can’t imagine twelve years in that prison will have made him any more fond of me.” Severus told him.
It took Harry a minute to absorb all that information. “Does he know you are the reason he is getting out?”
“I am sure Lucius will tell him, but you have to understand the resentment and outright dislike runs deep for both of us,” Severus said in his neutral tone. “I will try of course to be the bigger man, but I will fail Harry, no one pushes my buttons like Sirius Black,” Severus sounded disgusted; Harry was not sure if it was with himself or with Black.
Harry drank his tea as he thought about his response. “You know I don’t like bullies Severus, so please tell me now if you were one,” Harry asked, in a quiet voice.
Severus sipped his tea, his expression suggested he was thinking about something particularly unpleasant. “There were four of them James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, they called themselves the Marauders; I was their favourite target, but not their only one. They were pranksters but sometimes their pranks were cruel, particularly where I was concerned. They were trouble like the Weasley twins except as far as I am aware the twins have never been malicious in their pranks. I was not innocent, I retaliated and I was accused of provoking them by the staff and other Gryffindors, and I dare say I did push their buttons, but truthfully my existence was all the provocation they needed,” Severus told him.
“Harry nodded. Well if Black wants anything to do with me he will have to be nice to you. We are betrothed after all.” Harry said matter of factly.
“Yes, probably best not to lead with that fact. Let him get used to the idea of me being your guardian and Head of House first,” Severus said drily.
Harry grinned. “Spoilsport,” he replied cheekily.
Severus rolled his eyes, “Brat! Have you seen the paper today?” he asked.
Harry blinked at the rapid change of subject. “No, why?” he asked.
Severus handed him a copy of the Daily Prophet, there on the front page was a photo of the Weasely family on holiday in Egypt. Ron was standing at the front with his mum, his pet rat was on his shoulder. Ginny was on the other side of Mrs Weasely, she looked pale and a bit frail but she was smiling. Harry looked up at Severus. “They used the money for a holiday? I thought they’d pay Ginny’s medical bills with it,” he said softly.
“Are you annoyed they used your money for a holiday?” Severus asked him.
“No, I am glad they went on a holiday, they deserve it after everything. I just thought they’d need it to pay their bills,” he said with a shrug.
Severus smiled at his young charge, he had been surprised when Harry asked him to approach the Prophet about this ruse. Harry felt guilty about Ginny being taken to the Chamber by Tom and he had wanted to pay some of her medical bills; unfortunately, it turned out to be impossible to pay someone else’s bill without them knowing. So Severus had talked to Margarite and they had negotiated with the Daily Prophet to have a second prize draw this month. The editor of the newspaper had agreed when Harry offered to put up the money on the condition it was ‘won’ by the Weaselys. It was good for the paper to be seen as giving back to the community and no one would ever know Harry had anything to do with it. It was a win-win.
“You did a good thing, Harry,” Severus told him. “It’s much easier to accept a lottery win than charity: no matter how much you might need it.”
Harry stood up and wrapped his arms around Severus’ neck. “Thanks for understanding,” he whispered.
The older man pressed a kiss on the top of Harry’s head as he hugged him back. His sweet boy might look like Potter, but his heart was all Lily.
🐀🐕🐺
The story begins…
Margarite Saari was a patient woman and she knew the wheels of justice sometimes turned slowly. The British Ministry of Magic, however, really took the biscuit. It had been over five months since she had made her first enquiry into the trial of Sirius Black. It had been two months before she got a response to that inquiry which did not begin with “Well now, that was before my time, love,” it was very likely that the next person who called her love would find themselves on the wrong end of a tongue-tied hex.
Since she was not a Ministry employee, something she was increasingly grateful for, she did not have an office in which to wait. Therefore, Margarite had been sitting in Lucius' office for almost two hours waiting for someone to get back to her. She had come in early and requested an update about the seemingly lost evidence, pertaining to Sirius Black blowing up a Muggle street. His wand had been snapped and disposed of according to Ministry policy; this was understandable. However, nothing else seemed to have been done in accordance with Ministry policy. The results of the priori incantatem which ought to have been cast on his wand, the investigation of the crime scene and the records of the interviews with Black all seemed to have been misplaced along with his court date and trial record.
Three days ago she had put in an application to have Black brought to the holding cells in the Ministry until a trial date could be set but so far no one had been of any assistance at all. However, that was all pushed to the back of her mind by the things she was observing; something was up. Cornelius Fudge had been seen running or at least moving much quicker than usual towards the DLME and Madam Bones had not left her office all day. Staff members from all departments were rushing around, seemingly very agitated. Something was definitely up.
Curious Margarite picked up her empty coffee mug and a bundle of papers a joined the masses of people moving around the Legal Department. She made her way slowly toward the staff kitchen listening for any snatches of information.
“...yes, that’s what I heard,”
“Last week, Barty Crouch was there…visiting his son,”
“He died you know, Barty junior…”
“Yes, Poor Mr Crouch, his wife died too, just two days after their visit I believe,”
“It’s just so sad,”
“Dementors are blind you know, they would never have seen…”
“Black must have snuck out with the group, and confused the dementors,”
Margarite froze on the spot. Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban, no wonder she was being stonewalled in her attempt to speak to him. She continued on her way to the kitchen and made herself a coffee as she had intended to do. Then she made he way back to Lucius' office to continue her wait. At 4:55 pm Amelia Bones knocked on the door frame of the office. One look at the frazzled woman had Margarite out of her seat guiding the Head of the DLME to a chair and offering her tea.
Amelia took a sip of the strong, sweet tea and sighed. “I am sorry Margarite, I meant to be here earlier today. I have completed my investigation into the alleged crimes of Sirius Black and I have concluded that he was not tried according to the law. There is no evidence he committed the crimes. I intended to petition the Wizengamot for his release this afternoon. Unfortunately, it seems, your client couldn't wait; he escaped from Azkaban last week.
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“What do you mean he escaped? Were you not on the verge of getting him out anyway?” Severus demanded. “When did this happen?”
Lucius sighed a deep put-upon sigh. “Margarite was only informed today, but it happened a week ago; Fudge has kept it under wraps but the news is out. When I finally caught up with Fudge only an hour ago he wanted to discuss security for Harry at school this year. The fool thought I would allow him to have Aurors stationed here at the Manor and he wants to send dementors to the school,” he replied.
Severus sank back into his chair; the situation would be laughable if it were not so serious and Severus could not help thinking this was just like Black. On the verge of being exonerated, he blew any chance he had of staying out of Azkaban on a whim.
“What do we do?” he asked his friend, who was looking as angry as Severus had ever seen him.
“The ministry has put together a task force, the DLME are organising searches and Fudge is panicking. I suggest we begin our own search. We have to find him first and when we do he is going in the dungeon…” Lucius said with a growl. “...and we need to tell Harry before the Prophet runs the story tomorrow.”
There was a knock on the study door, Lucius put down his drink and called for Harry to come in.
“Harry, come and take a seat,” Lucius said warmly.
“Why what's wrong? Has Tom done something?” He asked warily. Tom had been very quiet since the whole Chamber of Secrets thing and Harry was suspicious of the quiet.
“No this is not about the Dark Lord, it is about your Godfather,” the blond man told him.
“Oh, what about him?” Harry asked surprised.
“He has escaped from Azkaban and the Ministry believes he is looking for you,” Lucius said calmly. Though his eyes flashed with anger. Sirius Black had made him look like a fool and he hated to look foolish.
Harry frowned. “Why would he do that, he was about to be released?” he asked.
“We don't know Harry, but Azkaban does terrible things to people's minds. It is possible Black is confused, maybe our visits to him have triggered something in his mind and he has suddenly remembered he should have been caring for you and has gone searching for you. Whatever the case is, until he is found you need to be very careful,” Severus told him.
“Is Black dangerous?” Harry asked.
Severus drew a deep breath. “As I said Azkaban does things to people's minds, it is an awful place Harry. Guarded by dementors; they are dark creatures who suck the happiness out of people. It sends prisoners mad eventually and Black has been in there for twelve years,” he explained.
Harry’s eyes went wide. “Is that where Uncle Vernon is?” he demanded.
“No Harry, your uncle is in a prison for Muggles in Wales,” Severus soothed.
“Right, good then, so Black?” Harry asked looking between Severus and his father.
“You are safe here at home but when you leave the wards we need to be aware of the people around us. You will not be allowed to leave the Manors wards without us.” Lucius told him.
“Ok, it's not like I go far,” Harry told them.
“No, but I will be accompanying you to Diagon Ally again this year as soon as your letters arrive,” Severus replied.
Harry nodded they talked a bit about how Harry was feeling about this development, though truthfully Harry had no idea how he felt. He had still been getting used to the idea of having a godfather now the man was an escapee and probably looking for Harry. The only good thing about it was at least he knew if Black was after him it probably wasn't because he wanted to kill him. Although, Harry reflected even if Black did want to kill him; it wouldn't be the first time a crazy, dark wizard wanted him dead.
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The next day the Daily Prophet headline proclaimed “Escape from Azkaban.” the photo of Black was sensational, to say the least. He looked filthy and his long dark hair was matted, his eyes were crazed and he was snarling at the photographer. The article outlined every crime which Black was assumed to have committed. There was a full article about the attack in Godric’s Hollow and the murder of James and Lily Potter. The next page contained a recount of Harry Potter’s story from his defeat of You-know-who to being left with his relatives and was followed on the next page by a recap of Vernon's trial with hints about a darker side to the story woven in.
There was also an article with pictures of the blown-up Muggle Street and a profile of Peter Pettigrew. Harry did not know who Pettigrew was but he was made out to be a friend of the Potters and the intended victim of the curse Black had used to allegedly blow up the street.
Reading the paper it was difficult to imagine that Black could be innocent of the crimes. The paper painted a picture of a young man born into a dark family who tried to escape but who was drawn back in and ended up betraying those who had only tried to help him.
Harry had a picture in his mind of Peter Pettigrew; in which he looked and sounded a lot like Neville Longbottom. He had to forcibly remind himself he did not know Pettigrew, and maybe he was a bully like James. Harry kept reading; ‘all they found of Peter Pettigrew was a finger.’ He whispered to himself. He closed his eyes and tried not to imagine what had happened to the rest of Peter Pettigrew if this report was accurate.
Closing the paper Harry stood up and tucked it under his arm, he needed another perspective and his only option was Severus.