A Magical Adventure (HP/GOT/MCU)

7th Sept 1992

Ministry of Magic

There was a soft whoosh as I emerged from one of the fireplaces on the left hand side and stepped into the Atrium. This was not my first time in the Ministry, far from it in fact. I came here many times when I was little, accompanying my mum and dad. Casting a quick look around, I walked forward to join my companions for the day.

Professor Dumbledore had informed us last night that Sirius and Pettigrew's trials were scheduled for today. Since it was almost a certainty that he was going to be released, Sirius had requested to see Harry before he was confined to months long treatment for Dementor exposure. Also it seems, he wanted to thank me for my part in securing his release.

Naturally, Harry and I had both agreed, and so here we were, following the Headmaster across the highly polished dark wood floor. Up above, golden symbols formed from magical energy gleamed and moved across the blue ceiling, ever-changing like the letters of an enormous heavenly notice board.

Halfway down the hall, the Fountain of Magical Brethren stood in all of its golden glory, proudly displaying the superiority complex of wizards over other magical beings. The only good thing about it was that it served as a donation box for St Mungo's. All around us there were pops and cracks as witches and wizards apparated in, ready to begin what was sure to be another long day.

"This way," said Professor Dumbledore, leading us towards a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall.

The stream of ministry workers parted before Dumbledore in the same way the Red sea did for Moses. He exchanged pleasantries with a few acquaintances, before leading us towards a desk on the left, over which hung a sign saying SECURITY. A badly shaven wizard who had been casually perusing the Daily Prophet sat up straight at the sight of Dumbledore approaching him.

"Good morning, Chief Warlock," he said.

"Good morning, Eric," Dumbledore replied genially. "I'm escorting a couple of visitors."

"Of course. Step over here, please," he said to me and Harry.

After getting patted down by a long golden baton, our wands were taken, registered and then returned to us. We then walked through the gates into a smaller hall beyond, where more than 20 lifts stood behind wrought golden grills. Harry and I followed Dumbledore into an empty one where he pressed the number 9 button.

The grills slid shut with a crash and the lift descended slowly. Soon, a cool female voice rang out - "Department of Mysteries."

We walked out into a place very different from the Atrium. The walls were bare, with no windows and no doors apart from a plain black one set at the very end of the corridor. Taking a left, we walked down a flight of stairs and emerged into another corridor with rough stone walls and heavy wooden doors.

Dumbledore made his way to a grimy dark door with an immense iron lock. Turning the heavy iron door handle, he held it open for us. We entered a large circular dungeon with walls made of dark stone and dimly lit by torches.

A hundred and one seats situated across the lower three tiers, ringed the clear stone area set aside for the accused. Nearly every seat was filled with the Head of either an Ancient House, a Noble House or by the holder of an Order of Merlin, first class. They had been talking in low voices, but with the arrival of the Chief Warlock, silence fell.

Above the three tiers of the Wizengamot, rose a further five tiers, all set aside for the public. To the left, on the lowest of those tiers, congregated the press contingent. There was slight shoving and pushing going on as each one tried to find the best position to view the upcoming proceedings.

But my attention was drawn to a thin man with light brown hair starting to go grey, sitting in a corner in the highest tier. He was dressed in an old, threadbare brown suit. At the sight of Dumbledore, he stood up and made a beeline for us.

"Is it really true, Albus?" he asked desperately. "He's innocent?"

"Yes," Dumbledore gently nodded. "We apprehended Pettigrew last week. He confessed everything under Veritaserum."

Remus looked both relieved and despondent. His eyes then found Harry and he smiled, yet seemed to be at a loss of what to say.

"Harry, this is Remus Lupin," introduced Dumbledore. "He was a close friend of your father's."

"Hello, Harry," he came forward and shook Harry's hand. "It's so good to finally see you again after all these years."

Harry returned Remus' smile. "Hello, Mr Lupin."

"Please, call me Remus," he said, taking a long look at Harry. "You look so much like your father, Harry. Except your eyes, there's no mistaking Lily there," he sighed.

Noticing Remus' eyes drifting towards me, Dumbledore introduced us.

"This is Benjamin Carter. He was instrumental in discovering Sirius' innocence," he said.

"Really? Then, I have much to thank you for, Mr Carter," he said to me.

"You don't need to thank me, Mr Lupin. I was merely doing what was right," I said.

He smiled and extended his hand for a shake. "Call me Remus."

"Only if you call me Ben," I said, shaking the offered hand.

"Why don't you both join Remus in the gallery?" Dumbledore proposed, after taking a quick look around. "It looks like we're about to begin."

We followed Remus up to the top benches, while Dumbledore made his way to the center of the Wizengamot. To his right, sat Amelia Bones, as was her right as both the Head of the DMLE and the Chief Prosecutor. On his other side, green bowler hat placed precisely in the centre of his own desk, sat the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

Dumbledore took the gavel and gave a single, sharp rap, and the entire courtroom fell silent.

"This session of the Wizengamot will now come to order," the Chief Warlock intoned. "We are here today for the trial of one Peter Oliver Pettigrew. Aurors, bring in the accused," he ordered.

We watched as a short, pudgy, balding man was led through the far door by three maroon-robed men. Two of the Aurors kept their wands trained on Pettigrew as they led him across the stone floor. At the last second, Pettigrew seemed to baulk and, with a massive shake of his head, tried to back away from the wooden chair. It seemed to sense his reluctance, for the chains that adorned its sides and legs rattled ominously.

A pair of hands, one from each auror, shoved the small man in the shoulder blades. Pettigrew squawked as he stumbled forward, before being jerked backwards into the chair. Immediately, the chains slithered around both arms, across his chest and wrapped around his legs.

Meanwhile, the third auror had magically sealed the door that they'd entered through before conjuring a 6 foot high circular cage around the accused's chair. It looked perfectly slick and topped with multitudes of razor sharp metal points.

Sweat dripped off the sides of Pettigrew's face. He kept swallowing hard and continuously. His beady eyes flickered around the room before widening as they came to rest on Harry and Remus...when he began to shiver in fright, even more than usual.

"Peter Oliver Pettigrew, you stand accused of betraying the location of and indirectly causing the deaths of James Charlus Potter and Lily Evans Potter; of passing sensitive information to the dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort; of being a member of Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters; of the deliberate murder of twelve muggles and of being an unregistered animagus," Chief Warlock Dumbledore stated.

A jumble of voices, both mumbles and shouts, broke out around the chamber causing Dumbledore to resort to banging his gavel before he could continue.

"How do you plead?"

Pettigrew's eyes darted about the courtroom, his tongue licking his lips, before finally, he stuttered an answer.

"G…g…guil…guilty."

The outcry this time, not only from the Wizengamot itself, but also from the higher galleries, was almost deafening. Shouts of outrage, cries of vengeance, bellows of retribution and abuse were hurtled at the small man. Flashes of light erupted from the journalists sending great spouts of purple smoke billowing high into the domed chamber.

"Are you okay?" I asked Harry, who was looking down at Pettigrew intensely.

"I'm fine," he whispered, not removing his gaze from Pettigrew.

Dumbledore's gavel this time wasn't enough to calm the outrage. In the end, the Chief Warlock was forced to stand, raise his wand and let loose a deafening cannon blast before quiet returned.

"Your guilty plea has been noted, Mister Pettigrew," Dumbledore intoned. "Before we consider sentencing, I believe that it would be prudent to hear what led you to these actions. Madam Bones?"

With a nod, Amelia rose from her chair.

"Chief Warlock, Minister, fellow members of the Wizengamot, guests," she began, nodding to each individual or group before turning her attention to the man in the chain-wrapped chair.

"Mister Pettigrew, before we begin, I'd like to remind you that you and I have had multiple interviews, conducted with the use of veritaserum. This means that I know the answers to the questions that I am going to ask. Will you answer truthfully now, or do we need to dose you with veritaserum once more?"

Pettigrew's head dropped as he shook it resignedly back and forth.

"Very well. We will begin with your involvement with the dark wizard, Lord Voldemort. Are you one of his Death Eaters?"

"Y…yes," his voice was barely audible, so, with a nod, Amelia had one of her aurors cast a sonorous on the man.

"When did you become a Death Eater?"

"Thirty-first of May, nineteen eighty-one."

"Why did you become a Death Eater?"

Pettigrew's eyes flickered to Remus for a moment before answering. "I … I was approached by … by some Death Eaters to … to become a spy for … for the Dark Lord. If I didn't agree … if I didn't agree, they were going to kill me."

"Did you knowingly pass information to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"Yes."

"Did you tell He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named how to find James and Lily Potter who were in hiding under the fidelius charm?"

"Y…yes," he replied in a voice so low that if it wasn't for the sonorous, I was certain that not even the two aurors standing right behind him would have been able to hear him.

A rumble of voices erupted around the courtroom at this announcement, only to be silenced moments later by the Chief Warlock's gavel.

"Please explain how you were able to give He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named this knowledge."

"L…Lily and … and James and … and Sirius …"

"This would be Sirius Black?"

Pettigrew nodded his head. "They decided to try to trick the Dark Lord by making me Secret Keeper instead of Sirius like everyone expected."

"For the record," Amelia's voice rose over the crowd, "you were the Secret Keeper for Lily and James Potter and not Sirius Black?"

"Yes."

At Madam Bones' signal, the auror closest to the door stepped forward, a long thin glass case held out before him. A single wand lay inside it.

"This wand, identified as being thirteen and a half inches long, yew, with phoenix feather core was found in your possession. Is this your wand?"

Pettigrew flinched away from the wand, a look of utmost terror on his face. "N…no."

"Whose wand is it?"

"Th…the D…dar…dark L…lord's."

The crowd's eruption lasted through the gavel and half a dozen of Dumbledore's cannon bursts before Amelia was able to continue.

"How did it come to be in your possession?"

"I … I found it after … after what happened that …that night and took it to keep it … keep it safe until he ... until he returns," Pettigrew replied.

"Please tell us about your last encounter with Sirius Black."

"Sirius came after me. He knew what I'd done. He knew that I'd betrayed them," Pettigrew's head had dropped, the picture of complete defeat as he told the story. "When he caught up to me, I knew that he was going to kill me. So, I did the only thing that I could think of. I shouted out that Sirius had betrayed Lily and James and, before he could do anything, I sent a blasting hex at the street behind me. In the confusion, I cut off my finger, transformed and escaped."

"Please tell us what your animagus form is."

"A … a rat."

"You got that right!" a vicious snarl erupted from Remus.

"How did you become an animagus?" Amelia asked.

"James, Sirius and Remus helped me at Hogwarts. We could all transform," he stated.

"James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin could become animagus as well?"

Pettigrew nodded. "James was a stag. Sirius, a big black dog. Remus … Remus wasn't an animagus."

"Where have you been in the last eleven years since you faked your death?"

"I found a wizarding family and have been hiding out as their pet rat."

Amelia turned to face both the Minister of Magic and the Chief Warlock. "Gentlemen, I have no further questions for the accused. I believe that his answers conclusively verify his guilt."

The two wizards shared a brief look, before Dumbledore nodded. "Very well."

"Members of the Wizengamot," Dumbledore continued, "you have heard Mister Pettigrew's confession and declaration of guilt. This negates the need for a vote on his innocence or guilt. We will move straight on to sentencing. For the level of charges, there are three choices for sentencing." With a flick of his wand, a transparent sphere was conjured above Pettigrew's head for each option as it was outlined. "Twenty years imprisonment in Azkaban. Life imprisonment in Azkaban. The Dementor's Kiss. Please cast your vote now."

All around the chamber, the witches and wizards of the Wizengamot raised their wands and shot jets of magic into the sphere of their choosing. With each jet that hit, the floating spheres turned a slightly deeper shade of red. By the time that the last vote had been cast, it was easy to see the decided upon sentence.

"Peter Oliver Pettigrew. By your own admission, you are declared guilty of all charges. You are hereby sentenced to life imprisonment on Azkaban Island. Aurors, take him away."

As the Aurors stepped forward and removed Pettigrew from the room, Dumbledore spoke again.

"Members of the Wizengamot," he declared in a loud voice to get their attention. "The testimony that we've heard today has indicated that a great injustice has been carried out against one of our own. Sirius Black, who, if he were here with us today, would be the Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, was sentenced to Azkaban without a trial for crimes that he did not commit. He has been there for nearly eleven years. I move that we bring him before us at the first possible opportunity."

"I second that motion," the regal voice of Augusta Longbottom stated from where she stood.

"All those in favour?" Dumbledore asked.

Around the room, nearly every wand of the Wizengamot was lit and raised.

"Motion passed," Dumbledore declared. "At the earliest convenience, Sirius Black is to be brought before this august body," he said, before giving a discreet nod to Madam Bones.

"Actually, Chief Warlock," Amelia interjected quickly, "Sirius Black is currently in one of the DMLE holding cells in the Ministry. I can have him here in less than ten minutes."

"In that case, we will recess for ten minutes," Dumbledore declared with a sharp rap of his gavel.

Less than ten minutes later, a filthy, emaciated man shuffled into the courtroom. His long black hair and beard were still matted with dirt, blood and who knew what else from his time in Azkaban. His greying tatters of clothes hung limply on his body.

Sirius cast a weary look around the courtroom. As Remus half-stood at the sorry state of his old friend, the movement must've caught his attention. Sirius' eyes did a double-take at the sight of Remus and Harry. A ghost of a smile passed over his lips as he looked at them.

With a prod from one of his guards, he was directed to sit in the chair in the centre of the room. Surprise etched his face when the chains rattled but refused to bind him in place.

"Sirius Black, you have been brought before the Wizengamot in relation to events surrounding the death of Lily and James Potter on the thirty-first of October, nineteen eighty-one and the death of Peter Pettigrew and twelve muggles on the first of November nineteen eighty-one," Dumbledore began.

"I didn't do it! I'm innocent!" Sirius rasped, as he kept looking at Harry.

"Evidence has recently come to light to support your innocence, Mister Black. In fact, we have just finished a trial where the real culprit, Peter Pettigrew, confessed to all the crimes and was sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban," Dumbledore continued.

"Then … then, I'm free?" Sirius asked wide-eyed.

"Indeed you are." Dumbledore smiled.

"Just a moment, Chief Warlock," Fudge interrupted. "During Pettigrew's trial, he stated that Black here was an unregistered animagus."

"Indeed he did. Mister Black?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes...yes, I'm an animagus," he replied nervously.

"The fine for being an unregistered animagus is set at one thousand galleons. In addition, you have forty-eight hours to register with the appropriate department," Fudge declared.

"If I may, Minister?" Madam Bones stood, waiting to be acknowledged. At the Minister's gesture, she continued.

"Mister Black was arrested and sent to Azkaban without trial and has been remanded there for nearly eleven years. This is a travesty that should never have happened. To think that anyone could have suffered such atrocity at the hands of the Ministry of Magic is outrageous. Yet he is given no apology... no compensation. And then to discover that he is fined for a minor infraction. I believe that we can do better than that. In fact, I insist that we do better than that!"

Murmurs of agreement swept the chamber.

"You are, of course, correct, Madam Bones," the Minister said smoothly. "Mister Black. On behalf of the Wizengamot and the Ministry of Magic, we offer you our sincerest apologies for what you have been forced to suffer."

Sirius looked supremely unimpressed by the empty platitudes being offered. I would too, if I were in his place. Not that I ever would.

"And the recompenses?" Madam Bones asked.

At this, the Minister of Magic slowly rose from his seat. "Mister Black. As compensation for your time spent in Azkaban, you will be given thirty thousand galleons."

An angry murmur swept through the chamber. Thirty thousand galleons for eleven years of illegal incarceration and everyday dementor exposure? That was not fair in the slightest.

Obviously understanding the feeling in the chamber, Fudge quickly continued. "Thirty thousand galleons for each year spent in Azkaban."

Much better. Obviously, money can never make up for lost time... especially for the rich. But it was better than a simple "we're sorry" note.

"Now that the matter has been finalised, I declare this session of the Wizengamot closed," Dumbledore stated with a final rap of his gavel.