Apologies if you get this twice - Yahoo did something odd the first time.

Song Of Songs

by Mad Martha

Part 2

"They've caught him, have they?"

Remus tensed a little at his father's wary tone.  "Not caught ... he voluntarily gave himself up in return for certain assurances."

"He'll be on his way back to Azkaban then."

"No."  He wondered how much he should tell his parents, given that the press had not yet been formally notified of what had happened.  Perhaps complete honesty was the only answer, although they were already uneasy from having him turn up on their doorstep unannounced and begging for a place to stay for a few days.  Given his normal ruthless self-sufficiency, perhaps that was understandable.  "New evidence has been discovered." 

"Like what?"  Romulus Lupin never raised his eyes from his plate, but Remus could see him stirring his casserole restlessly, his fingers turning his fork over and over in a familiar nervous habit.  "A few more Muggles murdered?"

"He didn't do it."

"They all say that."

"There's new evidence," Remus repeated quietly.  "It wasn't Sirius who killed those people at all, it was Peter - "

"Remus!"  His mother looked shocked.  "How can you say something like that?  Peter Pettigrew was your friend!  He died - "

"Actually, it turns out that he didn't."  Remus struggled to keep his voice calm.

His father put his fork down very deliberately on the side of his plate.  "Do you remember what young Pettigrew's mother got back to bury after your friend Black had finished with him?"

"A finger," Remus said tiredly, and he saw his mother flinch slightly, her mouth tightening with distress.  "And it's hardly surprising that fingers was all she got back, when the rest of him was living a cosy life as the pet rat of the Weasley family for the past twelve years!"

"And what the devil's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that he was an Animagus, Dad!  They all were - Peter, Sirius ... James."

"Nothing was said about that when those Potter friends of yours died," Romulus said sharply.

"Not surprising," Remus said.  He put his own fork down, his appetite gone.  "None of them were ever registered, and there didn't seem to be much point in saying anything about it after two of them died and the other was sent to Azkaban."  He looked up at his father, part of him noting the grey hair and lined face that were the only significant differences between them.  He saw that self-same struggle for calm in his own face in the mirror most mornings, and supposed that one day he would see the same wrinkles.  "Dad, it's God's truth, I swear.  Peter is alive, and it was he who betrayed James and Lily and murdered all those Muggles, not Sirius.  Both of them are in custody at the Ministry now, and there's going to be a trial - a proper trial this time."

"So young Peter's alive," Marianne Lupin said, clearly trying to keep a light, calm tone.  "That doesn't mean he murdered anyone."

Remus wondered if this was a small taste of what he would be hearing in court when Sirius finally got his trial.

"He confessed to the Minister and Chief Auror yesterday," he said, and hoped that his tone wasn't as aridly dry as it sounded to his own ears.

"He was probably in hiding for fear of his own life," his mother continued, as though he hadn't spoken.

"For twelve years?  Without so much as a word to his mother to reassure her?"

"He was always timid and easily-led."

"That's his excuse for going over to You-Know-Who."

"Men like Peter Pettigrew don't become Death Eaters," Romulus said curtly.

Remus thought of all the men just like Peter who had joined Voldemort's followers, including Sirius's younger brother Regulus, and grimly held his tongue.

"What could he possibly have to offer them?" his father continued.

Remus sat back, feeling thoroughly exasperated.  "Oh I don't know, Dad - the lives of his best friends, perhaps!"

"You told us that Black was their Secret Keeper - "

"I was wrong," Remus retorted.  "And do you know why I was wrong?  Because they never told me that they'd switched.  They didn't trust me enough to tell me, because funnily enough they all thought that I was the turncoat!"

There was a long, strained silence.  Then Romulus put his napkin down on the table and pushed his plate away.

"Remus, I admire your loyalty, however much I deplore the subject of it," he said heavily. "But I warned you many years ago that there's bad blood in the Black family.  Men of his ilk don't change their colours!"

"I know you did, Dad, and I wish I'd listened to you," Remus replied.  "If I'd had more faith in Sirius then, perhaps he wouldn't have spent twelve wasted years in Azkaban.  He didn't change his colours!  He did what he thought was right, and it was hardly his fault - or James's for that matter - that Peter betrayed them."

"He didn't trust you though, did he?" his mother said sharply.

"No, he didn't.  And that's my fault.  I didn't entirely trust him at the time either."

"Oh Remus, listen to yourself," she said, sighing.  "You're still making excuses for him, even after everything that's happened."

"I can't help that," Remus said quietly..  "It's my nature, Mum, you know that."  His father made a sudden, uncontrollable gesture of denial.  "And I'm sorry you don't like that, but there isn't a single damn thing I can do about it.  Sirius is what he is to me.  I can't change that, anymore than I can change the cause of it."

"You don't have to make a virtue out of it instead!" Romulus said sharply.

"I didn't think I was," Remus said, suddenly feeling very tired.

Silence.  Finally Romulus stirred, looking as weary as Remus felt.

"So what will you do next?"

"See him through the trial.  Pray that the truth comes out fully this time and he's exonerated."

"And what then?"

Remus shrugged.  "I honestly don't know."  He traced a pattern on the tablecloth with his fingertip for a moment.  "I was hoping you might let me borrow the cottage on the coast for a while."

"Your brother usually has it at this time of year," Marianne commented.

"I know," Remus said, keeping a tight grip on his temper.  Rufus was well able to put off his holiday for a week or two just this once, he thought.  "It wouldn't be for long.  It's just that ... well, I don't have an awful lot of money at the moment and it's impossible to say how long it'll take the Ministry to release Sirius's funds if - when - he's freed.  You know what they're like.  I just need somewhere for us to stay until I can sort something else out."

"Well, we'll see," Romulus said.

Knowing that pushing his father's decision would almost certainly result in a refusal, Remus forced down his impatience.  "Thank you."

"And what'll you do if they send him back to prison?"

Remus had already settled that with Kingsley Shacklebolt, but his parents didn't need to know until it was done.

"I'll manage," he said.  "I always do, don't I?"

~~~

Remus had forgotten how small his bedroom was; or perhaps it was simply that he was older and larger than he had been the last time he slept here, although he didn't think he could have grown all that much between leaving home and now.  He lay staring up at the ceiling in the early hours of the morning and tried not to look at the photographs and posters that were still pinned on the walls from when he was a boy.

There were a lot of memories for him in this house, but all the good ones from his childhood seemed to have been supplanted by the bad stuff that happened later on.  The conversation about Sirius over dinner had been a pale shade of the arguments from his mid-teens about the pranks he had got up to with him, James and Peter.  And Remus certainly hadn't forgotten the row that had erupted when they were barely nineteen.  That had been the year the Handfasting Law had been passed, although it had been some months before that his brother Rufus had casually Apparated into their shared Harrow flat to find Remus in bed with Sirius.  His parents were good people, but they were very conventional working-class purebloods and the relationship he and Sirius had was of a kind that they viewed as being a decadent perversion mostly confined to Muggles and the First Families.  It had confirmed all their worst, if previously suppressed fears about Sirius, and any kind of explanation - especially of the kind that pointed up the actual facts - was at best useless and at worst liable to convince them they were right.

Remus loved his parents.  They were good, decent people who wanted what they thought was best for him, and much of their attitude now sprang from a series of well-meant fears for him that they had never been able to overcome.  He hadn't been able to share a roof with them for years, beyond the usual visits at Christmas and occasional birthdays.  His brother Rufus he saw even less; that was particularly hurtful, for they had been close until the row, but now Rufus wouldn't even allow him to spend time with his nephews.  In a family where Remus's lycanthropy had always been a non-issue, this was an open wound that his parents made no effort to heal.  They weren't repulsed by him as a werewolf; they were repulsed by his homosexuality, and Remus refused to subject them and himself to the trauma his presence seemed to induce.

This time he had no choice, though.  He needed somewhere to stay near to Diagon Alley while Sirius was incarcerated at the Ministry awaiting the trial, and he couldn't afford to waste money renting a room.  His parents had taken him in, but they weren't happy about it.

Well, he wasn't particularly happy about it himself, but everything was so difficult at the moment that he was taking it one step at a time and had no room to be picky or emotive.  Step one had been achieved; Sirius had been transferred to the Ministry from Hogwarts under Kingsley Shacklebolt's protection.  The next step was the actual trial.

He tucked an arm behind his head and thought about this.  The transfer had been relatively smooth, but there had been some problems when they arrived at the Ministry.  For one thing, Remus set off every Dark Creature alarm they encountered which had necessitated a long and frustrating process of Kingsley vouching for him at every step of the route and obtaining - not without difficulty - passes that would allow Remus supervised access for future visits.  A copy of their Handfasting Certificate was necessary to allow him Spousal Visitation rights, and even then it had taken two attempts before an official could be found who was willing to accept it and grant the relevant pass.

Remus got the impression that Kingsley had not expected some of these problems, especially the attempt to block the Spousal Visitation pass, and that he was both angry and frustrated with them, although he maintained an appearance of calm and courtesy.  Remus himself was utterly unsurprised; he'd been dealing with anti-werewolf prejudice and homophobia for most of his adult life.

The worst moment had come as they were leading Sirius to his holding cell and he had a sudden panic attack.  It had taken nearly twenty minutes to calm him down, not helped by the number of people rubbernecking, many of whom had openly expressed some fairly infelicitous sentiments about him.  News of Pettigrew's capture had not yet been widely disseminated, and more than one voice from the surrounding crowd had demanded to know if Shacklebolt wanted a Dementor summoned.  The threat, genuine or otherwise, had not made the task of reassuring Sirius any easier.

Remus squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.  He hated leaving Sirius there, even knowing that the team of Aurors in charge of guarding him included his own cousin Nymphadora Tonks and old Mad-Eye Moody.  Not to put too fine a point on it, Remus didn't trust the Minister not to change his mind.  Nor did he trust any number of other very powerful individuals at the Ministry and in the Wizengamot.

Lucius Malfoy sprang to mind.  So, for that matter, did Severus Snape.  Remus tried to remember the scraps of information about the composition of the Wizengamot that had littered the conversations of Sirius and James when they were young men.  The Snapes were impoverished and their power in the Wizengamot had been reduced for some reason, but he couldn't remember why.  Not that it mattered.  Snape was friends with Malfoy and a few other charmers with seats in the Chamber.  Some of them held significant positions within the Ministry hierarchy as well.

He worried about what decent men like Shacklebolt and Moody could do if someone like Malfoy decided to use Sirius's incarceration as an opportunity to remove him.

I don't want to be sentenced to the Kiss, Sirius had said desperately before Remus left.  Anything but that, Moony.

And so Remus had made a bargain with Shacklebolt - if things showed signs of going badly for Sirius in the resulting trial, he wanted to be given a chance to give Sirius another way out.  Shacklebolt had taken some persuading, but eventually he had reluctantly agreed.

That was tomorrow morning's job - locating a back-street apothecary who would sell him enough silver nitrate, aconite and cyanide to grant them both a quick exit from life if necessary.

If there was one thing Remus was certain of, it was that he couldn't rebuild his life a second time without Sirius..

~~~

After all the excitement of the previous day, Sirius seemed calm and in reasonable spirits when Remus visited him just after lunch.  His family's lawyers were due imminently and while it couldn't be said that he was entirely optimistic, he wasn't the terrified wreck of a man Remus had been forced to leave behind the night before.  The holding cells at the Ministry were more humane than Azkaban - not difficult, admittedly - and Sirius had slept a little and been able to wash, besides eating a couple of plain but acceptable meals.

Remus was a little surprised to discover that his partner now had a guard of four instead of two, though.

"There was a bit of excitement in the night," Sirius said, when he queried this.  "I'm not sure what, but judging by the number of people who made a point of sticking their noses around to the door to tell me not to worry, there must have been something good going on."

His wry expression said a lot about what he considered to be "good".

"Hm," Remus said, not liking this much.  "Hang on a minute - " 

He went back to the door and rapped on it until Nymphadora Tonks opened the slot set into it at eye height.

"Wotcha, Lupin!  What's up?"

"That's what I was going to ask you," Remus said dryly.  He couldn't get used to seeing her grown up, for she'd been an engaging eight year old the last time he saw her.  "How's your other prisoner this morning?"

"He's all right too," she said, and her brows changed colour even as she quirked them expressively.  "Kingsley said that if you asked, I was to tell you he'd explain later if he gets a chance - but between you and me, someone tried to get at Pettigrew in the night."

Remus's brows twitched up.  "Anyone we know?"

She grimaced a little and her hair segued patchily from its 'normal' bright blue to the flame-like orange of her brows.  "Can't really talk about it - sorry.  I wasn't on duty anyway."

"No, that's fair enough.  Thank you."

"No worries.  No one's coming at Sirius or Ratty without going through a whole bunch of us, you know."

"I believe you," Remus assured her, a little amused.

She grinned at him and closed the slot again.

"If she's anything like her mother I think no one had better try to get to you," Remus commented, returning to sit beside Sirius on the side of the narrow bunk.

"I was expecting it," Sirius said tiredly.  "I felt pretty sure either Peter or I would be Kissed or dead this morning."

"Kingsley's a thorough man."

"So it would seem."  Sirius turned to study him.  "I was too busy being a pathetic idiot to ask yesterday, but - where did you go last night?"

"Back to my parents' house," Remus said..  "I still have some things stored there, including a couple of sets of your old formal robes.  I'm not sure why I kept them, to be honest, but they'll be useful for your trial."

"If they let me wear them," Sirius said pessimistically, but he reached out and gripped Remus's wrist gratefully.  "Thanks Moony."

"What else is one's handfasted spouse for?"  Remus gave him a crooked smile and turned his hand in Sirius's grip until he was gently squeezing his fingers.

Sirius huffed a laugh.  "Any trouble with the Visitation pass?"

"Of course, but the Aurors seemed to be well-briefed.  There was someone on hand to browbeat the security staff and let me through."

"Thank God!"

"Your lawyers should be here soon," Remus said.

"I've been thinking about that," Sirius said, gathering himself.  "I need to talk to them about my Will as well - just in case - although I don't know if it'll be allowed to stand if I'm Kissed."

"You're not going to be Kissed," Remus said, controlling his voice with an effort.  "Look, I can't say much here but I've made other arrangements for us."

"Us?" Sirius's eyes flicked up to meet his.  "Moony - "

"If you think I'm going to try and stitch my life back together without you this time, you really are mad," Remus interrupted.  "No arguments, Padfoot - if you go, I go with you."

"Moony, no - Harry needs one of us here with him - "

"Harry has managed quite well without us this far," Remus said firmly.  His mouth twisted wryly.  "I doubt he was even aware that he had godparents until now, and you have to believe me when I say that he's remarkably self-reliant and independent, Sirius.  I've teaching him since September and I know almost as little about him now as I did before the school year began.  He keeps himself to himself."

"You taught him to do the Patronus Charm," Sirius pointed out.

"I don't think he would have approached me about that if he hadn't been at the end of his tether, and even now I can't honestly say that the first move was really his.  I found out that his boggart was a Dementor almost by accident and then I had to drop little hints that I could help him and hope he'd take the bait.  Which he did eventually, but don't kid yourself that he opened up to me at all.  Getting him to talk about anything during those lessons was like pulling teeth."

"Is he much like James otherwise?" Sirius asked wistfully.

Remus hesitated, not knowing how to answer this, and to his relief they were interrupted by a polite knock at the door.  Nymphadora put her head around the edge.

"Your lawyers are here, Sirius," she said.  "Moody says we can move you to one of the secure interview rooms if you like."

"Well I don't think there's going to be enough room in here," Remus said wryly, standing up.

"I'll have to secure you," she said apologetically to Sirius.  "Here, Midgen - take my wand.  Basic precaution," she added to them.

"I know," Sirius said, a touch of dry humour in his voice.  "I used to be an Auror."

"Yeah, of course - sorry, it's been a while and I don't remember you talking about stuff like that when you used to visit Mum and Dad."  She produced a set of manacles from a robe pocket and snapped one around his left wrist, securing the other around her own right wrist.  Then she grinned at him unexpectedly.  "Till death do us part," she intoned, and her hair flushed an odd peachy-pink colour.

For some reason he couldn't quite put a finger on, this irritated Remus.  "I think he has enough charges laid at his door already, without adding bigamy and incest, Nymphadora."

"I tell people to call me Tonks," she said chattily, oblivious to his tone.  "I don't know what Mum was thinking, calling me Nymphadora."

"She's a character from one of Gaius Cloudhook's epic poems," Remus said, his irritation mounting.  "An air spirit with many different faces."

"Sounds like something Mum would come up with."

Sirius shot Remus an odd look, somewhere between amusement and consternation, and turned to his cousin.  "We'd better not keep old Shoester waiting," he reminded her, so they set off.

The interview with the Black family lawyers was dispiriting.  Remus had been braced for them to echo the attitudes of Sirius's late parents towards the family prodigal, but he had failed to take into account the very practical attitude of the legal profession.  A client was a client, regardless of his supposed crimes, especially when one was on a perpetual retainer to the family.  Shoester and Slippet had been representing the Black family for hundreds of years and this was far from the first time one of the family had been accused of murder.  It wasn't even the first time that one had been sent to Azkaban (although Sirius's generation was unique in having two brothers and a cousin all incarcerated simultaneously).  Sirius's primary concern had been that the family lawyers wouldn't represent him because he had been disinherited before his father died.  On this point they were happy to reassure him; his father had died before the full legal process could commence, and his mother had apparently ceased caring once his brother Regulus was also sent to prison.  Technically, Sirius was still the heir - and therefore the now the head - of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, although this would have to be ratified by the Wizengamot's family court at some point in the future.

As far as his current predicament went, they had prepared a pretty tight defence for him even at such short notice..  The only question mark lay over whether they would actually be permitted to present it, for wizard criminal law had a habit of being rather flexible, especially when it came to saving the face of the Ministry.  Sirius's legal team were as confident as they could be under the circumstances, though.

After that, Aloysius Slippet pulled a lengthy scroll out of his briefcase.  "It occurred to us, sir, that you might wish to make your Will ..."

"I would," Sirius said, resting his forearms on the table.  He looked tired and older than he should.  "How does the current werewolf legislation stand as regards inheritance?  Am I able to provide for Remus here, in the event of my death?"

Even this revelation, if it was a revelation, failed to unsettle the solicitors.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Black, werewolves are not permitted to inherit at present, only to bequeath."

Remus thought this must be someone's idea of a cruel joke, given that most werewolves were outcasts, unable even to find employment enough to keep body and soul together.  Having something to bequeath was unlikely for most.

"Great," Sirius said sourly.  "All right ... who would inherit everything if I died intestate and with no acknowledged heir?"

Barnabas Shoester shuffled some papers nervously.  "That could be somewhat problematic, sir, as perhaps you already realise.  Your respected brother has predeceased you, Mr.. Alphard Black died without issue - and was disinherited besides - and your surviving relatives in the direct line are all female.  Both Mrs. Lestrange and Mrs. Malfoy are married to patresfamilia of other First Families, which disqualifies them from inheriting on their own behalf, and Mrs. Tonks was, like yourself, partially disinherited by your late father.  That leaves three possible heirs, all of whom are, frankly, questionable - Mrs. Malfoy's son, Mrs. Tonks's daughter and your late Aunt Octavia's son, Severus Snape …"

"The Wizengamot prefers male heirs where possible," Sirius remarked.  "They'd almost certainly refuse to confirm Andromeda, especially as she married out, and they wouldn't even consider Nymphadora because she wasn't acknowledged by the head of the family when she was born.  Cissy's married to another paterfamilias, and her son - what's his name?"

"Draco, sir," Slippet said in a subdued tone.

"Right.  Well, he's Malfoy's heir, which rules him out.  And Snape's the head of his family, which rules him out.  Don't Cissy and Malfoy have any other children?"

"No, sir - just the one."

Sirius sat back and looked at Remus.  "A second Malfoy son might have been a possibility under the circumstances, since the Wizengamot doesn't like to see old families die out.  As it is, we could be looking at the end of the House of Black."  The idea didn't seem to trouble him much.  He turned back to his lawyers.  "There's nothing to be done about the entailed property - that's the Manor, some financial holdings and jewellery, stuff like that I would assume."

"I have a list of the entails," Slippet began, but Sirius waved it off.

"Everything else - everything that isn't specifically entailed to family - I want to pass to my godson, Harry Potter - that's Henry Potter the Younger, heir of the House of Potter.  That should include everything I inherited from my Uncle Alphard, plus anything that automatically devolves to me in my own right from my parents and brother.  You might have to tussle with the Ministry for it, they probably tried to confiscate everything when Regulus got sent to Azkaban."

"We're already looking into that, Mr. Black," Shoester assured him.  "As the matter stands, the Ministry attempted to serve papers confiscating the Manor after your brother's conviction, but they were unable to take possession of the property.  Apparently the bailiffs couldn't find the house, as your mother had closed it up and used an Unplottable Charm sealed to the family.  Consequently the matter was allowed to slide, but the Manor will have to revert to you if you are exonerated.  As for the rest of the assets, they are still in dispute as Gringotts have been contesting the right of the Ministry to open the family vaults.  These too will have to be returned should your trial go as we all hope it will, but should you remain convicted we will lodge counter-claims for everything on behalf of the estate."

"Excellent.  Don't forget the house at Grimmauld Place," Sirius added.  "It belonged to my mother, it was never a part of the main estate, and as such it devolves to me alone.  Don't let anyone try to pull the wool over your eyes about that."

Remus gave his partner an odd look.  "You've been thinking about this, haven't you?"

Sirius shrugged.  "I didn't sleep much last night, so there wasn't much else to do." 

"Papers were also drawn up for the confiscation of number 12 Grimmauld Place, but your mother was successful in resisting the attempt," Shoester noted.  His voice became dryly neutral as he added, "I understand the official who attempted to serve the notice retired for medical reasons shortly thereafter, and his successor was unable to locate the property due to it also having been made Unplottable in the meantime."

Sirius snorted, grimly amused.  "I'll bet!  No one ever caught my mother out twice."  He leaned forward again and tapped a finger on the sheet of parchment Slippet was swiftly making notes on.  "If it's at all possible to legally designate my godson Harry as my true heir, I want to do that.  It won't be, of course, but just trying will infuriate the Malfoys and in any case he is some kind of blood relative somewhere in the family tree."

The two lawyers exchanged looks.

"And Severus Snape, sir?" Shoester asked politely.

Remus saw a brief flash of rage cross Sirius's face before his expression settled into a forced blandness.

"Seeing as he was happy to let a flock of Dementors try to Kiss me a couple of days ago, regardless of Pettigrew being found, I don't see why he should inherit anything of mine," he said flatly.  Then he seemed to reconsider, and a little smile appeared.  "No, I take that back.  I leave my dear cousin Severus Hectorius Ignatius Tobias Snape a single Knut - a bent and tarnished Knut.  That's all."

~~~

Sirius had been in the great criminal court room at the heart of the Ministry several times before, but never on his own account.  It was a deeply unsettling experience to be escorted to the central chair and chained to it, feeling at the very edges of his senses the presence of Dementors - not actually inside the room, but somewhere very close by - and to know that the audience of Wizengamot members in the tiered seats before him were in all probability hostile to him. 

The witness stand was off to his right; seated there were Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape, and with them two boys in school uniform.  One was tall and lanky and had red hair - that would be the Weasley boy who had 'owned' the rat that was Peter Pettigrew, but Sirius hadn't caught his first name.  The other was Harry Potter, his dark hair untidy and sticking up at the back like every Potter ever born, his face James Potter's face.  There were others with them, including his lawyers and Kingsley Shacklebolt, although Professor Dumbledore was in his usual place as Chief Warlock.

Remus was in the public gallery, far above the court and out of sight.  Perhaps that was just as well.

A soft murmur of comment arose as his Auror escorts, both unknown to Sirius, made sure he was secure and stepped back.  Then someone was banging a gavel and when Sirius looked up he saw Cornelius Fudge - of all people! - sitting in the Minister's seat.

"Witches and wizards of the Wizengamot, I hereby declare this session of the Criminal High Court to be open.  Presiding judges are myself, Cornelius Fudge, and Madam Amelia Bones of the Justice Division."

A craggy, hard-looking man with a mane of russet hair stood up.  "Rufus Scrimgeour, Chief Auror!  I hereby request that this session be formally recognised by the Wizengamot as a continuation of the Death Eater Inquisitions of 1981, Minister."

"Granted," Fudge said, peering at Scrimgeour over his spectacles.

Professor Dumbledore stood up then.  "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock!  I would ask the Wizengamot to formally recognise that the defendant here before us - namely, Sirius Mercurius Black - is here as an appellant against his sentence of life imprisonment."

"It's a curious thing," an insinuating male voice said, before Fudge could reply, "but I wasn't aware that there was an automatic right of appeal against a life sentence.  And surely one would tend to assume that a man who is innocent would have chosen to make his appeal through some official channel, rather than breaking out of his place of incarceration and evading every attempt at his recapture.  Forgive me, my colleagues of the Wizengamot, but would that not seem to suggest a guilty conscience rather than the actions of an innocent man?"

Lucius Malfoy.  Sirius well remembered those glacially perfect tones, as he also remembered the man's long white-blond locks and supreme arrogance.  He had to suppress a curled lip as, unbidden, his dead mother's voice came to mind: A parvenu, she had said with disdain, but he has money enough I suppose.  Money enough for the least of the Black family daughters to marry, she meant.

"My dear Lucius," another cut-crystal accented voice said coldly, "if, as you suggest, there is no right of appeal against a life sentence, which official channel would you suggest the man uses to protest his innocence?  Access to the editor of the Daily Prophet is hardly open to the denizens of Azkaban ... unlike some I could mention."

This was a much older man, very upright in his pristine, if slightly old-fashioned robes.  He too had nearly white hair but his was due to the bleaching of age, rather than his natural colouring.  He was leaning on a hound-headed cane and eyeing Malfoy with a look that bordered on contempt.  Nevertheless, his voice remained coolly courteous as he continued, "We are not barbarians, I hope.  If new evidence has arisen to suggest Sirius Black is innocent, as would seem to be the case, then let it be heard.  We have nothing to fear in that but potential enlightenment."

"Or potential muddying of the waters," someone else remarked.

"We are intelligent men and women," the elderly man replied dryly.  "I feel sure we can all tell the difference between deliberate obfuscation and the truth.  And if we feel unequal to the task, there are ways and means of reaching to the heart of the truth."

There was a pause, then Dumbledore turned back to Cornelius Fudge.  "With respect, Minister, I repeat: I would ask the Wizengamot to formally recognise that Sirius Black presents himself in appeal against his sentence."

"Does the Chief Auror reject this request?" Madam Bones asked, before Fudge could respond.

"I do not," Scrimgeour said briskly, which caused another murmur in the chamber.

"Very well.  So noted," Fudge said in a disgruntled tone.

"Thank you."  Dumbledore resumed his seat, and Scrimgeour followed suit.

"In that case, let the first witness step forward to explain the background to this continued session of the original Death Eater Inquisitions of 1981," Fudge continued.  "The Court calls the Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt.."

~~~

The trial (as there was no such thing as an appeal hearing for a life sentence) took four days, much of which was taken up by a frustrating series of attempts by various members of the Wizengamot to dismiss it.  This was countered by decidedly neutral testimony from the Chief Auror, more emphatic testimony from Kingsley Shacklebolt, cross-examinations both hostile and sympathetic of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, corroborating evidence from Professor Dumbledore, and dizzying legal arguments from Sirius's counsel.

Finally, however, came the damning moment that Cornelius Fudge had visibly twisted himself into knots to prevent, when a second chair slipped smoothly up through the floor a few feet from where Sirius was seated.  The courtroom door opened once again to admit Mad-Eye Moody, who stepped through it, his wooden leg clunking loudly on the marble floor and his false eye scanning every face in the courtroom.  To his wrist was chained Peter Pettigrew.

A soft murmur of comment arose, echoing around the courtroom as Pettigrew was led, cringing, to the second seat by Moody and Nymphadora Tonks, and chained there.  He was snivelling like a child, a disturbing sight in a grown man, and the days in close custody - though a shadow of what he could expect in Azkaban - had not done him any favours.  The torture was purely mental and self-inflicted, however.  Remus, acting on an instinct, had procured him a set of clean and reasonably well-fitting second-hand robes and persuaded Tonks to see that Pettigrew cleaned himself up and wore them.  This wasn't done as an act of kindness; Remus had some experience of how the wizard courts worked and he had a very real fear that if something wasn't done in advance, the man's changed appearance might lead anyone who didn't know him well to argue that he wasn't Pettigrew at all.  The Aurors weren't allowed to make much use of such evidence as fingerprints, as this was deemed to be an unreliable Muggle technique, with the predictable result that sometimes criminals were released and innocent citizens gaoled through simple misidentification.

To Remus's relief his intervention worked.  When the question of Pettigrew's identity was inevitably raised, Kingsley Shacklebolt was able to pass around copies of several photographs from his days in the Order of the Phoenix, and the resemblance was enough that even Lucius Malfoy reluctantly had to agree that they were one and the same man.

That done, a second round of tough questions began.

~~~

Remus spent much of the trial sandwiched between Andromeda Tonks and Hestia Jones in the tightly-packed public gallery.  In the far corner of their row of tiered seats sat the acid-blonde figure of Daily Prophet hack Rita Skeeter, along with a number of representatives of lesser periodicals and wireless stations.  It was all uncomfortably reminiscent of the original Death Eater trials and Remus was inclined to think badly of Hestia, who tactlessly furnished herself with a packet of roasted nuts each day in anticipation of the long sessions.

"Hard to believe that Peter Pettigrew is alive after all," she remarked softly at one point, in between munching.  "If I hadn't seen it myself, I wouldn't believe it.  Looks a bit the worse for wear, doesn't he?"

"It seems remarkably fitting that he's spent the past twelve years as a rat," Andromeda replied in more reserved tones.  "Although under the circumstances, we're lucky he wasn't trapped or eaten by something in the meantime.  Death at the paws for a good mouser would be no more than he deserves, but highly inconvenient for us.  Sirius looks better than I expected, after all the dreadful photographs in the Daily Prophet lately, though.  Why must they publish pictures of criminals in their cells?  This isn't Restoration London, for the public to view convicts and lunatics as entertainment!"

"Old Pettifer was mistaken," Remus replied wearily.  "We are barbarians.  We just like to tell ourselves we're not."

"He looks dreadfully thin."

"Give me half a chance and I'll feed him up."

Hestia patted his hand kindly.  "Look the Potter boy in the witness benches.  He does look like his father, doesn't he?"

He looked dreadfully tense to Remus's eyes.  "I wish they hadn't brought him here, or the Weasley lad.  I can't see how their evidence will make much difference and they shouldn't have to witness an Inquisitional hearing."

"It won't hurt him to see how the Wizengamot operates," Andromeda replied stoutly.  "It's good experience for later on - although I suppose his guardians will be preparing him for when he comes into his inheritance."

Remus could imagine few things less likely; in fact, he had an idea that Harry himself didn't know much, if anything, about his inheritance, let alone the significance of it.  But when he'd mentioned his concerns to Dumbledore at the beginning of the school year, the headmaster had politely deflected the question.  He wondered if the Dursleys understood the full extent of what awaited Harry when he reached his legal majority at twenty-one, and came to the conclusion that they probably didn't - which, now that he came to think of it, could only be a good thing.

Then he forgot all about Harry's situation, for Kingsley Shacklebolt had saved his most damning piece of evidence for last; he was finally talking about the tests performed on the wands of Sirius and Pettigrew.  Another Auror brought in the two wands, amid much excited whispering both among the Wizengamot and the public watchers.  Scrimgeour himself stepped out of the tiered seats to perform Priori Incantatem again, and the bright flashes of the Avada Kedavra Curse and Slicing Hex emitting from Pettigrew's wand contrasted starkly with the binding and disarming charms that were the last spells cast by Sirius.

When the smoky charm residue cleared there was silence in the chamber, into which Peter Pettigrew's whimpers fell quite audibly.  Even from a distance Remus could see Sirius's hands shaking where they were bound to the arms of the stone chair.

Then Amelia Bones spoke very sternly.

"Sirius Black."

"Ma'am?"  He raised his chin proudly, but his gaunt face was white.

"Eyewitness reports say that you stood and laughed rather than try to make your escape on that day.  Did you find something amusing in the deaths of so many innocent bystanders?"

Sirius licked his lips nervously.  "No, ma'am."

"Then why did you laugh?"

"Because ... because it was Peter who was the traitor all along.  The one person we never