Harry Potter: The Angel of Death C37 (Patreon)

Chapter 37: Sirius Black Part II

“No.” 

Every head turned to Crowley, Amelia, and Scrimgeour frowned at him, while Sirius stared at him confused. 

"No, Mr. Black," he repeated, looking at Sirius. "You are not going to tell them anything." 

Crowley reached into his briefcase and withdrew a folded document. 

"What Mr. Black is going to do," he continued, "is exercise a legal right that should have been afforded to him twelve years ago." 

Sirius looked even more confused. 

"This is a representation contract." He unfolded the document and gave it to Sirius, who took it hesitantly. "By signing this document, you formally retain my services as your solicitor." 

Crowley took out a pen from a pocket in his jacket and offered it to Sirius.

"I give you my word, Sirius Orion Black. I will get you out of Azkaban.” His voice turned cold. "And the people responsible for what was done to you will pay dearly for it."

 Scrimgeour stepped forward.

"Now hold on—”

Crowley turned towards him and glared at the Head Auror. 

"Twelve years ago," he said coldly, "the Ministry denied Sirius Black every basic legal protection guaranteed to him under British magical law. So with all due respect, Head Auror Scrimgeour, you will not be denying him what he should have had twelve years ago." 

Sirius and everyone else looked between Scrimgeour and Crowley. 

"You had twelve years to follow the law, Head Auror." His eyes hardened. "You do not get to object when I insist upon following it now."

He turned to Sirius, and his expression lost part of its edge. 

“Your choice, Mr. Black.” 

Sirius looked down at the contract. It's been twelve years since anyone had offered him a choice, twelve years since he had someone on his corner. Azkaban had taken many things from him, but it had not taken his intelligence. He knew this was an opportunity he could not miss, so he took the pen and, without hesitation, signed the contract. 

“Excellent.” Crowley took back the contract and smiled.

Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose. 

"Mr. Crowley—" 

"My client," Crowley interrupted, "is visibly suffering from severe malnutrition, prolonged exposure to Dementors, psychological trauma, and far too many other conditions I am not qualified to diagnose." 

Amelia’s gaze shifted toward Sirius Black, and she flinched before lowering her gaze to the floor. Sirius was little more than skin and bone. Crowley might have spent thousands of years living among humans, but he would never claim to be an expert on human health but even he could tell that it was a miracle Sirius was still alive—and, perhaps even more remarkably, as mentally stable as he was.

Well, that last part was not entirely a miracle. Crowley had discreetly used a fraction of his power to restore part of Sirius’s damaged mind, clearing away some of the fog left behind by his years in Azkaban. He did not actually heal all the damage Azkaban had done to his mind over the years; he was not particularly skilled at healing. What he did was merely give Sirius enough clarity to find his footing again, the rest, impressive enough, had been all Sirius.

"As Sirius Black’s solicitor, I demand that my client be transferred immediately to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries." 

Scrimgeour opened his mouth and Crowley raised a hand.

"I am not finished." 

Scrimgeour closed it again. 

"My client will receive emergency medical treatment, he will receive proper nutrition and he will receive a full evaluation from certified healers." 

Crowley's gaze swept across the room.

"And only after those healers determine that Sirius Black is medically fit for questioning will any Ministry representative be permitted to speak with him." His smile returned. "Naturally, I will be present for every single conversation."

The look on Amelia Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour's faces was almost worth framing. Crowley snapped his briefcase shut and took one of Sirius’s hands and passed it over his shoulder, holding him by the waist.

“Now then,” He began to walk towards the entrance of the cell, practically carrying Sirius. “My client is leaving this hell on Earth.” 

No one argued as Crowley walked out of the cell with Sirius, as they passed one of the neighboring cells, a gaunt figure lurched toward the bars 

“Siri?”

Bellatrix Lestrange’s voice was hoarse, her tangled black hair framed a face that looked more skull than human, yet her eyes burned with the same feverish madness as the day she was captured. 

She pressed herself against the bars. 

“Siri! Siri, where are they taking you?”

Crowley stopped, and Sirius turned his head and, for a moment, he just stared at his cousin. 

Their cells had been close enough that he could hear her shouting and cackling through the walls, and over the years, they had even spoken from time to time. Like everyone else, she believed he had been a loyal servant of Voldemort working undercover, and Sirius had never corrected her. As insane as she was, Bella had been the closest thing to family he had in this place, the closest thing to a familiar face, and as long as she believed him to be one of Voldemort’s followers, she had been almost friendly in her own very disturbing way.

For brief moments, when the Dementors were farther away, and the fog in his mind was not quite so thick, Sirius could almost pretend they were somewhere else, that it was just him and his mad older cousin caught up in one of their reckless adventures and not trapped in this hell, not rotting away in Azkaban waiting for the years to consume what little remained of them.

"Have they finally come to release us? Has the Dark Lord returned? Tell me he has returned!" 

“No, Bella.” He shook his head. 

“Sirius?”

“They’re only releasing me.” 

“What?” 

For a moment, Bellatrix seemed not to understand his words, and then her face twisted with fury and she gripped the bars so hard her knuckles turned white.

"What did you do? What did you tell them? Did you betray us?" Spittle flew from her mouth as her voice rose in a hysterical cackle. "You made a deal with them, didn't you? You filthy blood-traitor! I knew it! I knew it!" 

Several aurors took a step back and tightened their grip on their wands.

"The Dark Lord trusted you!" she shrieked. "And now you crawl to the Ministry like a dog! You are a blood traitor just like your filthy little Potter!" 

Sirius sighed. Years ago, her words would have made him furious, he would have shouted back just as passionately, but right now, he just felt tired. He was so, so tired. 

“Goodbye, Bella.”

He did not look back as they continued to walk down the corridor. 

“Sirius?” 

Bellatrix’s voice lost its fervor and sounded hesitant, but he did not turn back. 

“Sirius!”

"SIRIUS!" 

He kept walking as her screams followed him down the corridor. 

"You can't leave me here!"

The desperation in her voice surprised him so much he almost stopped.

"You can't leave me here, Sirius!"

He closed his eyes for a moment and kept walking towards the exit while Bellatrix’s voice faded behind him. 

“Sorry, Bella.” He whispered as he boarded the ship, never looking back.

On the twelfth of August of 1993, Sirius Orion Black left Azkaban. After twelve years of unfair imprisonment, he was finally free.  

***

Edward Tonks practically chased the aurors, including Amelia Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour, off the moment they arrived at the hospital. 

The healer took one look at the former prisoner and immediately launched into a string of colorful language regarding the competence of the Ministry, the ethics of Azkaban, and the general intelligence of everyone involved. 

He then took Sirius to a private room, called several other healers, and they promptly began working. Crowley wasn’t surprised by the number of healers. You did not spend twelve years in Azkaban and walk away healthy. 

After ensuring that Sirius was in capable hands and reminding several Ministry officials who lingered in the hospital that his client was not to be questioned under any circumstances without him present, Crowley finally left the hospital. 

***

By the time Crowley arrived at Ashford Estate, it was past midnight, but he had a feeling his favorite client was still awake, and right he was. 

Crowley found him in the library, sitting on the floor before the fireplace with the Invisibility Cloak over his shoulders, making parts of his body invisible, staring at the flames with his gaze lost. 

Harry glanced up as Crowley entered. 

“Took you long enough.” 

Crowley snorted and walked towards a cabinet, retrieved a bottle of Firewhiskey that he had hidden there weeks ago, and poured himself a generous glass before sinking into an armchair near the fireplace. 

“What a day.” 

Harry snorted. That was such an understatement. Crowley reached into his briefcase and withdrew a folded newspaper. 

“The evening edition,” he said. 

Harry raised an eyebrow. 

“Since when does the Prophet publish an evening edition?” 

“They very rarely print two editions in a single day.”  Crowley handed him the paper. “Congratulations. You're boosting the economy.” 

Harry unfolded the newspaper. 

THE DAILY PROPHET

SIRIUS BLACK NEVER STOOD TRIALBy Barnabas Cuffe

In what may become one of the largest legal scandals in modern British magical history, today's Wizengamot trial revealed that Sirius Orion Black, alleged betrayer of James and Lily Potter and convicted mass murderer, was never formally tried before his imprisonment in Azkaban.

The revelation emerged during Harry Potter's emancipation proceedings when solicitor Anthony Crowley challenged the Ministry to produce records of Black's trial. No such records were found.

Senior Ministry officials have declined to comment while an emergency review remains ongoing.

"If true, this raises deeply troubling questions," stated one Wizengamot member who requested anonymity. "Not merely about Sirius Black, but about the integrity of our justice system during the war."

Whether Sirius Black ultimately proves innocent or guilty is no longer the most important question. The most important question is how an heir to one of Britain's most powerful houses could be stripped of every legal protection without anyone noticing.

If this can happen to Sirius Black, what confidence should ordinary witches and wizards have that it cannot happen to them?

Harry finished reading before lowering the newspaper.

"At least I'm not on the front page this time." 

Crowley hummed and took another sip of Firewhisky.

For a while, only the crackling of the fireplace filled the room, then Crowley put the glass down and looked at him. 

"Are you certain?"

Harry already knew what he meant.

"If Sirius is cleared, transferring your guardianship to him would be considerably easier than pursuing emancipation."

Harry remained silent, and Crowley continued: 

"Especially after today. The sympathy alone would be enormous. Wrongfully imprisoned godfather reunited with the son of his dead best friend?" He shook his head. "The newspapers would eat it alive." 

Harry set the paper aside.

"You were the one who said the Ministry would argue that Sirius is mentally unfit."

Crowley nodded.

“They will,” he said. “Twelve years in Azkaban have left him with severe psychological trauma, emotional instability, and who knows what other damage. In his current condition, no healer would clear him to care for himself, let alone assume responsibility for a teenager. The Ministry is fully aware of that and will not hesitate to exploit it.” 

Crowley then shrugged. 

"Fortunately for us, their arguments are weak."

Harry frowned.

"Their arguments sound pretty reasonable."

"They sound reasonable because they're true," Crowley replied. "The difference is that they aren't permanent problems."

He leaned back in his chair.

"Given a few months, perhaps a year, I could dismantle every one of those arguments. Sirius Black is wealthy. He's from one of the wealthiest houses in Britain, and he only has to formally claim the title of Lord Black, and he will become one of the most powerful men in the nation."

Crowley paused.

"Using our current strategy, obtaining a custody transfer would probably be easier than winning emancipation."

Harry stared at the fire. It was tempting, had he been a bit younger, had he not seen the lunatic’s memories, had he now awakened angel mode, he would have jumped at the opportunity. He always wanted family, people who care and love him. He was starved for love, for affection, for support, which one only gets from one's family. But the thing is, he has that. He has Dobby, Hedwig, Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys, Crowley, and even his entire family. Sure, he can only spend a few minutes a day with his parents or other dead relatives, but the fact is that he can see them, he can talk to them, and he has them in his life. 

“No.” 

Crowley nodded, he wasn’t surprised or disappointed, already seeming to know the answer, but he wanted to check anyway. 

“No,” Harry repeated. “I’m not putting my future in someone else’s hands.” 

He wants Sirius in his life, he wants to get to know his godfather, dogfather as his dad says, but won’t trust his future to a man he does not know. Maybe one day he will love Sirius and will see him as family, will trust him enough for that, but that is not today. For now, Sirius Black remains a man he only knows from stories and memories that are not his own. 

"Fair enough." 

For several moments, they stayed silent, and then Harry asked the question that had been lingering in the back of his mind ever since Crowley left for Azkaban. 

"How is he?"

Crowley's expression softened.

The answer, Harry suspected, was not going to be a pleasant one

***

The following morning, Harry found himself standing in the entrance hall of St. Mungo's, wondering if this had been a mistake.

Meeting Sirius Black as an abstract concept had been easy, so had been planning his release, but actually walking into a hospital room to meet the man felt considerably more difficult.

Ron and Hermione seemed to notice his hesitation.

"You know," Ron said, "most people would be excited about meeting their godfather."

Harry gave him a flat look.

"Most people meet their godfather before the age of thirteen."

Ron just shrugged, and Hermione stepped forward.

"Harry."

He looked at her.

"You don't owe him anything."

Harry blinked.

"What?"

"You look like you're about to walk into a courtroom," Hermione said. "Just go talk to him. He will probably be more nervous than you are."

After everything he had heard about him, the idea of Sirius Black being nervous seemed ridiculous, but maybe Hermione had a point.

Harry sighed.

"I'll see you later."

Ron waved him away.

"Have fun."

Leaving his friends behind, Harry made his way deeper into the hospital.

As he passed a corridor intersection, he happened to glance through an open office door. Edward Tonks had just entered, carrying a stack of files, and following behind him was a woman with long brown hair whom Harry vaguely recognized but couldn't immediately place.

They appeared to be arguing about something, so Harry decided that whatever was happening there was not his problem and continued walking.

A few moments later, he reached Sirius' room, and after a brief hesitation, he knocked.

"Come in."

Harry pushed the door open and saw Sirius Black sitting upright in bed. The picture that Crowley painted yesterday was horrible. He had said Sirius looked more dead than alive, but the man in front of him did not look like a living corpse. 

He did look painfully thin and exhausted, but his hair had been washed, his beard trimmed, and several healing potions appeared to have worked miracles overnight. Harry could actually see traces of the man Sirius had once been.

Green eyes meet grey eyes, and neither spoke. For several moments, they just stared at each other without moving an inch. Disbelief crossed Sirius’ face, then shock, and then his lower lip trembled. 

God, he was crying. Harry’s brain stopped working. He had imagined a lot of possible reactions, but he definitely hadn’t expected him to burst into tears at the sight of him. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The tears kept falling and Sirius tried to clean his face but new ones took their place. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He kept repeating those words over and over. Harry wished he were literally anywhere else, even the Chamber with the basilisk would do, comforting people had never been one of his talents. 

"It's not—"

"I'm sorry."

"Sirius—"

"I'm sorry."

Harry rubbed his face. This was so, so awkward. After a moment of hesitation, he walked over and gave Sirius an awkward pat on the shoulder, a gesture that felt completely ridiculous and had him cringing internally while practically shouting, Is this really the best you can do, Potter? to himself, but surprisingly enough, it seemed to work, and after several minutes Sirius gradually regained enough composure to stop crying and apologizing every few seconds. 

“How old are you now?” He asked after cleaning his face with his sleeves. 

“Thirteen.” 

Sirius just stared at him. 

“Thirteen?”

“Two weeks ago, yeah.” 

"Thirteen," Sirius repeated weakly.

Harry nodded. 

Sirius rubbed both hands over his face.

"I've missed a lot."

Harry decided not to comment, the last thing Sirius needed was to beat himself down even more. 

Sirius looked at him again. 

"So what have you been doing all these years?" His expression brightened slightly. "Did Remus spoil you properly or was he still being a complete party pooper?"

Harry blinked.

"Remus?" Harry asked before remembering the werewolf. "I've never met Remus Lupin." 

Sirius froze for a moment, and then he frowned. 

“What?” 

“I’ve never met him,” Harry repeated. 

"What do you mean you've never met him?"

"I mean, I've never met him."

Sirius just stared at him as if he were speaking another language before he sat straighter. 

"If Remus didn't raise you..." His voice became cautious. "Who did?"

"The Dursleys."

Sirius froze. 

"The who?"

"My aunt Petunia and her husband Vernon."

The color drained from Sirius' face.

"Petunia Evans?"

Harry nodded, and Sirius looked horrified. 

"How did that happen?"

Harry shrugged.

"Dumbledore."

Sirius closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if to prepare himself.

“How was it?”

"Not great."

Sirius opened his eyes.

"Define not great."

Harry hesitated before deciding to trust his dad and take a leap of faith. So he told him, not everything since Sirius is still in a fragile state, but enough to paint a rough picture of his childhood. He told him about the neglect, about the favoritism and the insults, and as Harry spoke, Sirius’ expression grew progressively darker. When he slipped and accidentally mentioned the cupboard, Sirius looked ready to commit homicide. He abrubtly sung his legs off the bed. 

"What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving."

"You are not."

"I am."

"Sirius."

"I'm going to kill them."

Harry blinked.

"What?"

"Petunia and Vernon."

Sirius sounded completely serious.

"If I already spent a decade in Azkaban for murders I didn't commit, I might as well commit a few."

It took Harry nearly ten minutes to calm him down. Eventually, he managed to redirect the conversation towards safer topics, namely the trial. 

Sirius listened in stunned silence as Harry explained how the entire thing had unfolded, how Crowley had weaponized the emancipation trial, how they had deliberately used the attention surrounding his case to force the Ministry into examining Sirius' imprisonment under public scrutiny.

When Harry finally finished, Sirius stared at him.

"You did that?"

Harry shrugged.

"Mostly Crowley."

"You schemed to get me out of Azkaban."

Harry shifted awkwardly, and Sirius pulled him into a hug. Harry froze for a moment before awkwardly returning it.

For the next hour, they talked—or rather, Sirius asked questions and Harry answered them—but as the conversation continued the atmosphere in the room gradually grew warmer and more comfortable, and by the time Harry was telling him the story of how he became the youngest Seeker in a century, he had finally relaxed.

And that was when the door opened and Edward Tonks stepped into the room, a woman following close behind him.

The moment Sirius saw her, he froze.

The moment she saw Sirius, she froze.

For several seconds, neither of them moved. They simply stared at each other across the room.

Harry glanced from Sirius to the woman and then back again. He had no idea who she was, but considering the way Sirius looked as though he had just seen a dementor and the woman looked one heartbeat away from drawing her wand and hexing someone, he suspected he would not like to be in this room to see what would happen. 

Edward jerked his head toward the door.

"Come on, Harry."

"Right." Harry immediately stood. "I think I'll leave you two to... whatever this is."

Neither Sirius nor the woman replied. In fact, neither of them seemed to have noticed he had spoken at all as their eyes remained locked on each other.

Harry slipped out of the room beside Edward. The door had barely begun closing behind them when shouting erupted from inside.

"YOU—!"

"Now listen—!"

The rest was lost as the door slammed shut.

Edward winced.

"The family reunions," he said with an awkward shrug. 

***

Author’s Note: From now on, I'll be updating every other day. The chapters are all over 3,000 words and are starting to approach 4,000, so rather than splitting them in half, I'd rather post a complete chapter every two days. Of course, if you'd prefer daily updates, I can always divide the chapters into Part 1 and Part 2.

As for the new story, it won't affect Harry Potter: The Angel of Death. This story has already passed the 80,000-word mark, and there will be at least another 100,000 words before it's finished. I don't want to burn myself out writing the same thing every day, so I need a change of pace now and then. Working on a different fandom and a different set of characters helps keep things fresh and keeps me motivated to write.