Subpoena

Time. Time was something Sirius could deal with. 

That were, if he had more of it.

The wizard’s recovery began to accelerate due to three key points. First, Hermione had moved the wizard back into the guest bedroom (I’m adding the cost of the mattress onto the bill, Harry) and placed anti transfiguration wards in addition to protective spells. The fact that Black could not rip himself apart every night kept him one step ahead instead of two steps behind.

The second success was a letter from the Wizengamot granting the defendant's motion to extend his release from Azkaban until his trial. Hermione had argued that it was unjust to keep the accused in a mentally compromised state when they ought to be preparing for their hearing, particularly in this situation, when the client had already served an excessive amount of time in the Wizarding prison before having been granted a trial. The news he would not have to return to Azkaban in the near future gave Sirius enough strength to join Draco and Hermione for a proper dinner of bubble and squeak (even though most of it came back up within the hour)

The third thing contributing to Sirius’ recovery was perhaps the least expected: the far reaching effects of his newfound freedom. He had not been in the company of so many people in nineteen years; as they prepared for the upcoming hearing everyone fell into a sort of routine. Sirius would have tea in the mornings with Draco, who always came round to brief Hermione and give her a copy of The Daily Prophet. After a long shower, he’d read and work on the muggle exercises Hermione had given him (It’s not stupid if it’s helping you, she had said to Sirius one afternoon when he’d argued that calf raises, of all things, were not proper exercise) In the afternoon he and Hermione would have lunch, during which time they’d review what she’d been researching that morning. Often, and always on Sundays, they’d be joined by Harry and Ginny. It was with his godson’s presence the discussion changed to everyone’s days at Hogwarts, Sirius’ adventures with James as an Auror, or stories of sneaking out into muggle London. Truly, all four Gryffindors were patching the holes inside themselves with time spent together. 

The only person missing was Remus, who had owled once since their initial meeting. The wolf seemed keen on keeping his distance, but Sirius repeated (particularly on nights he didn’t sleep well) that it would be fine. It would just take time. 

“They’ve bloody upped the date!” Hermione’s shrill voice interrupted Sirius’ reading. Not that he minded as he was finding Squibs In Society: Volume II terribly dull. He set the book aside and looked up to see Hermione stomping into the sitting room from the kitchen. He arched an eyebrow.

“The date?”

“Yes, Sirius, the date,” She said, words rapidly falling from her mouth, “They’ve moved the date of the trial.”

Sirius felt his stomach flip. He had a feeling he knew when his hearing would begin.

“To the anniversary, isn’t it?” he said grimly

“October 31st. Fuck!” Hermione dropped down onto the armchair opposite Sirius. She put her head in her hands and paused for a moment. Sirius could hear her take a deep breath. 

“It’s not too terrible,” he said, “it was set for, what, end of November? Just a few weeks difference. It’s only September now, there’s still time to get ready.”

“That’s not the point Sirius,” her shoulders slumped with her words, “It’s the dramatics of it. Twenty years since the death of the chosen one’s parents,” she spat the words out bitterly, “They're going for a media circus. It's an archaic tactic, and a damn good one. It’ll make for great reading. This was already going to be a highly publicized case but now? It’ll be a ruddy opera.” 

Sirius snorted at the choice of metaphor.

“I certainly hope not. They stopped singing the school song at quidditch matches in my third year because I’m so bloody tone deaf.”

This brought out a half smile in the witch. She lifted her head from her hands and looked at him. Even though they had dark circles under them, her eyes were soft. Her hair had been pinned up on the very top of her head with several pencils, curly strands falling out at random. The last few days had been hinting at fall weather, and Hermione had dressed in a brown cable knit sweater and jeans as a result. As he looked at her it hit Sirius, quite suddenly, that she was as old as Lily had been the last time he saw her. Or at least, he mentally corrected, saw her alive. The witch before him now had lived through much more than his old friend. That much was evident in the constant lines in her forehead-clearly there much too early. Lily had a child born to end a war, but Hermione had lived in the aftermath. Fought in the aftermath. And was now at war with the results.

“I haven’t thanked you,” Sirius said quietly, “for everything you’re doing for me. For everything you’ve already done. Not properly, at least.”

“It’s not about you, Sirius.”

“And that’s the best part,” his voice was earnest now, “is that it isn’t about me. You’d do this for anyone. You’re doing this for everyone,” he gestured around the empty room. “I just happen to be part of the everyone.”

The witch beamed at the man, and for the first time since before he went to Azkaban Sirius felt a warmth wash over him. He almost- almost- felt twenty one again. He noticed the shift in his mood extended to the room around him. Hermione seemed to have noticed it too, because she leaned back in her chair and away from the wizard suddenly. Sirius cleared his throat.

“Honestly Hermione. Thank you.”

“Of course,” she said, the formal edge reappearing in her voice. She stood, rocking onto the balls of her feet and stretched her arms above her head.

“I do have something that is for you,” she added. Silently, she waved her wand and summoned the lion-engraved walking stick given to Sirius on his first day at Forehart Place. 

She turned and walked through the kitchen, out of the French doors leading into the back yard. When Sirius met her, Hermione pulled one of the pencils from her bun (half of it falling out in the process) and placed the eraser end in his hand. Upon inspection, Sirius could see it was glowing, a blue light spilling onto their skin. Within a second, they were pulled into nothingness. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sirius hit the ground, he could smell earth. Damp earth, more specifically, along with what he could only assume were flowers meant to repel dogs- their scent was mephitic at best. He opened his eyes to see Hermione above him, the midday sun hitting her in a way that cast a sort of halo around her face.  A warm breeze fluttered her already messy hair. Sirius blinked soil away from his lashes. 

“Right, surprise portkey,” he said gruffly, taking Hermione’s outstretched hand. When his stomach lurched with his attempt to stand he added, “Don’t like that at all.”

“Sorry,” the witch apologized, scrunching up her nose and pressing her lips together. “I thought it’d be better than apperating, and they don’t have the fire connected to floo.”

With a grunt she helped Sirius to stand, summoning his walking stick from the bushes behind them. Once he had steadied, Sirius looked around. They were higher in altitude-he could tell from the coolness of the air-than Hermione’s place was. The land around them was thickly blanketed with trees- mainly alders from what Sirius could tell. There were massive mossy boulders jutting between the trees every few meters or so. Sirius inhaled deeply, but did not smell the salt he was expecting to accompany such a landscape.

“Not taking me for a picnic by the sea?” He smirked

Hermione smiled at him. 

“‘Fraid not. We’re here for business, not pleasure.” She briefly chewed on the tip of her tongue but instead said, “Are you okay to walk for a bit? It’ll be a half klick from here.”

“If you’re willing to keep the pace of an old man,” Sirius griped. 

The two headed east, silence accompanying them. Hermione seemed to be enjoying the fresh air; Sirius was rather preoccupied with not tripping over the increasingly rocky ground beneath him. 

“You don’t seem like an old man,” Hermione mused, pulling Sirius’ attention. “At least, not always.”

Sirius barked out a laugh, his voice rather breathy.

“I wouldn’t reckon so. It feels like I’m coming into my own again. My mind, at least. The longer I’m away from Azkaban, the more it feels like I’m returning to who I was before it all,” he paused to concentrate on footing over a particularly tricky stone. 

“My body, on the other hand, has aged worse than Moony’s.”

It was Hermione’s turn to laugh, reaching her arm out to help the wizard once more. It amused her to no end to hear her professor, the father figure of the golden trio, called such an effeminate name. She looked into Sirius’ face. Even though he was breathing heavily now, his progress was apparent. He’d put on a healthy amount of weight, gotten color back into his flesh, and the bruise-like shadows under his eyes had reduced significantly. The haircut she’d given him had grown in and evened out in the spots she’d gone too short. Out here in the cliffside air Hermione caught a glimpse of the man, in another life, that Sirius could have become. The man he was slowly growing into. She’d been staring too long, she realized, when he locked eyes with her. 

“What?” He said defensively, gripping onto the cane tighter

“Sirius you’re…” she trailed off, biting the inside of her cheek, “You just look better.”

He grinned at her, the smile reaching his eyes. The expression lifted the color of them. When he was stoic they were flat, both in pigment and in depth. When his expression met his eyes, they became the color of a crisp winter's morning. Light. The most peaceful shade of grey you could imagine. 

There was a break in the landscape as the pair finished their ascent. A clearing in the trees gave way to a babbling brook, surrounded by mushrooms and flowers in what must have been dozens of brilliant shades of blues, violets and yellows. To the right of the creek stood a massive ivory bungalow. It was serene, as though the scene before them had been untouched by time. From the trees just beyond the water a barefoot, fair skinned witch walked towards Sirius and Hermione. She moved in a way that blended so well with the environment around her that Sirius would not have questioned it if someone told him this was all a dream. The girl’s hair was blonde, nearly white each time the trees broke and the sunlight hit it. As she drew within speaking distance, it became obvious that she was expecting under the indigo tunic she was wearing. 

“Hello Hermione,” she greeted, her voice much stronger than Sirius had been expecting. It had a soprano quality to it that only solidified Sirius’ dream theory. 

“And hello to you as well, Sirius Black.” 

Sirius cast a glance to Hermione beside him, who was grinning endearingly at the witch. 

“Hello Luna. Thank you for having us.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“When the Pervelle line died out,” Hermione hurriedly whispered to Sirius, “Dumbledore purchased the estate. He kept it very quiet- I don’t think most of the order knew it was his- and used it as headquarters this go around.”

They were inside now, in a pentagonal study . It had been decorated to replicate the ravenclaw tower common room- something Sirius only knew from his sixth year attempts to sneak in and snog Marlene McKinnon. The only difference he could see from its Hogwarts inspiration was that this room had no books strung about carelessly or parchment in every corner. It was neat and orderly, with several canvas paintings featured on the walls. Sirius recognized his godson as the subject of one, arm in arm with his red headed girlfriend. The painter had managed to give Ginny the warmth of the sun itself. You couldn’t help but feel the admiration the artist had for their models, even though the paintings did not move or speak. Close to the bay windows overlooking the brook there was a half finished sketch on an easel. The jawline and cheekbones of this subject- although male- bore a striking resemblance to that of the ginger haired witch. 

“When Dumbledore died, and then Alberforth after him, the house went to the closest living relative- as the Dumbledore line had died it switched back to the Pervell line- making it Harry’s,” Hermione continued. “He likes the city a bit more, and Ginny wasn’t wanting anything this big, so they gifted it to-“

“My dumb arse,” said a freckled, lanky wizard who had just stepped into the study, “for convincing my sister’s best friend to marry me.” 

The man walked to the loveseat Luna was sitting on and kissed her forehead, placing a hand on her belly while doing so. He was wearing Auror robes, Sirius noticed, impressive ones for how young he appeared to be. He was either second or first lieutenant, though Sirius couldn’t recall the difference in robes well enough to figure out which. He glanced back at the half finished painting. Seeing the subject in person made the art spring to life.

“Hello Ron,” Hermione said, twisting her hair back up in a bun. “I’d like to introduce you to Sirius Black.”

Ron nodded at the wizard now opposite him, taking one of Luna’s petite hands in his own. 

“Hello. Ron Weasley. Happy to be your witness mate.”

Sirius returned the gesture.

“Glad to have you as one. Though I’m not sure I’ve been told how you fit into my case as of yet.”

“I was at Malfoy Manor when we met Pettigrew- or human Pettigrew,” Ron said, visibly disgusted, “Bloody unfortunate having a grown arse man sleeping in your bed for fourteen years.”

“I-wait. What?”

“Pettigrew was Ronald’s pet,” Luna said casually, looking up at the air around them, “He lost him in his fourth year, during the triwizard tournament, but now we know that was just to rejoin Voldemort and help resurrect him.” 

Sirius gawked at their female host. It was as though she could have  been talking about a new pudding recipe she’d like to try. The red head was looking at his wife affectionately; Hermione gave Sirius a small shrug that simply meant you’ll get used to it. 

“Course Harry met him years before the manor- but we didn’t realize who it was till after we told Lupin,” Ron continued in a more serious tone than Luna. 

“Course,” Sirius said, shaking his head softly. He turned to Hermione.

“I didn’t think we needed to talk to any more witnesses,” he said, creases appearing between his brow.

“We don’t. All squared away on that,” she replied, “You’re here to meet with Luna.”

“What for?”

“I told you before, about her. She’ll be able to help you be ready for the trial. Really, mentally prepared and capable,” Hermione said, turning to look Sirius in the eyes.

Sirius felt a wave of embarrassment flush his face; he ran both hands over his cheeks to hide the color he was sure was forming there. 

“I don’t care to talk to anyone Hermione, I told you already,” He muttered in response, not quite meeting her eyes. 

“It’s not like that-“

“How is it then?” Sirius quipped, a bit too sharply. Hermione winced at his change of tone- he felt his face grow hotter. 

The blonde spoke up again, this time making eye contact with Sirius in a way that compelled him to hide away every bad decision he’d ever made.

“You do have some nargles,” she said, “but I think we’ll mostly focus on your memories.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With a dainty wave of her wand, Luna had transformed the study from a common room to an infirmary. The furniture stayed it’s classic royal and bronze shades, but turned into what you would expect to see in St. Mungos. The bay windows, as well as the rest of the five walls, had flipped to become floor to ceiling mirrors. It was quite disorienting, having so many reflections facing one another. It made the room suffocatingly endless. Luna and Sirius sat facing one another now, less than a meter between them. Ron had chosen to stand behind his wife, placing his hands on her shoulders. Hermione remained seated beside Sirius.

“When I go into your mind,” the blonde witch spoke, “our roles will reverse. I will take on the load of your memories and you will be the visitor. It will be as though you’re watching someone else live your life.”  

Her voice, still light and sing-song, did not match the tone the air had taken on. It was heavier now, much more intense than the feeling that had greeted them when they had first arrived. 

“Like a pensive?” Black posed

“Close,” answered Hermione and Ron at the same time.

“Not like anything you’ve felt before though. It’s a weird bit of magic.” Ron finished, squeezing his wife’s shoulder tighter and frowning. She smiled up at Ron before continuing. 

“It will be your job to move the memory to the correct part of your mind. Some people have told me they see doors, others an object of some sort. Everyone says they know what to do when they get there, though, so you needn't worry about that bit.” Luna smiled at Sirius, though he noticed there was a bit of a glaze over her eyes, as though she were seeing through him. 

“Which bit do I have to worry about then?”

“Luna hasn’t done anyone from...Azkaban before,” Hermione started, cutting in before Rom got the chance to speak. “At least, not anyone who’s been there for as long as you were. The running theory is that you’ll have to move quickly, or else…”

“Or else what?”

“Or else you’ll both be stuck in your mind,” said Ron sharply. His protective stance and clenched jaw suddenly made sense to Sirius. 

“And it’s new magic so..”

“So no one will be able to help you two get out.” Hermione finished softly.

“Then I won’t do it. My mind's not worth a life!” Sirius said hotly, slapping his seat. “Especially not two lives! What happens if we get stuck, huh? What about the baby?”

“Sirius, she’s thought this through-“

“Clearly not well enough-“

“You have to be fully well for the-“

“My mum died this way.” Luna said softly. 

Sirius’ grey eyes snapped to her blue ones. They were huge, her eyes, so big he felt they would swallow him whole.

“Another reason not to do it then.”

“She died because it backfired,” Luna corrected, “It was her first attempt, for a wizard who had lost his sister. She was an obscures, and died because of it. Mum was in the man’s mind when he fought her out and closed the door without placing the memory. I walked in just before the blast.” 

Luna refocused her eyes, the glaze disappearing from them. Instead of seeing through Sirius, he felt her staring down his soul.

“Don’t shut me out. Let me help you.”   

The weight of the room doubled. Sirius’ throat constricted, preventing him from responding, so he nodded once. The blonde witch before him exhaled, blue eyes shimmering. 

“Legilimens.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~