Chapter Text
“The Wizengamot calls for Sirius Black to be called forth.”
The doors that had swung closed behind Pettigrew opened once more as every head in the room turned to look. Framed in the open doorway were four people, two aurors stood on either side of a gaunt, rag-draped man, a fourth man dressed in impeccable robes stood to one side. Top of Form
It had been years since Amy had last seen Sirius, how many she didn’t know – she’d stopped counting – but more than it had been for anyone else, Sirius had died so early the first time round after all. For longer than she could bear to remember all she’d wanted was to see him again, but he looked nothing like the Sirius Black she remembered.
The sight of him—gaunt and hollow—hit her like a punch to the gut. His skin, sallow and thin, stretched over his bones like parchment, every ridge and line of his face painfully pronounced. His hair hung in greasy, matted tangles, unkempt and filthy. His robes, tattered and grimy, barely clung to his skeletal frame. Dirt streaked his hollow cheeks and lined every inch of his exposed skin. He’d never looked like the man in the photos with her parents, but he’d never looked this bad either, not that she could remember.
It was hard to tell if the aurors were holding Sirius to stop him from escaping, or because he was incapable of keeping himself on his feet without support. Either way they led him across the room to the chair. The chains should have bound him the moment he sat down as they had Pettigrew, but the remained still, dangling limply on either side as if sensing the innocence of the man who now sat in the chair.
The Aurors prodded at the chains with their wands, but they still didn’t respond, after a brief consultation with Dumbledore they backed off to stand at the side of the room and the fourth man stepped up and took his place at Sirius’s side. Nathanial Greengrass, the lawyer Aunt Cassiopeia and Uncle Lucius had hired to represent him. He looked sharp and composed, a reassuring presence beside the haggard figure of his client.
“Sirius Black,” Dumbledore’s tone was softer, gentler than it had been when he’d addressed Pettigrew. “It has been brought to the attention of the Wizengamot that you have never stood trial for the crimes of which you were accused. We will now rectify this.”
“Criminal hearing of the eighth of July, against Sirius Black of no fixed address. Interrogators: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Court Scribe, Mafalda Beatrice Hopkirk.”
Amy was grateful that Lucius had explained how the trials would work, because if she hadn’t already known this was standard procedure she might have lost it right then and there. Even so she was annoyed by there insistence on procedure even after the rat confessed to everything. But as Lucius had pointed out, ensuring that everyone knew Sirius had finally been given a fair trial and being found innocent would go a long way in shaping the publics perception. Both of Sirius and the Ministry who were desperate to frame this as a failure of the last administration that was being set right by the current one.
“Read the charges.”
Madam Bones once more stood up.
“Sirius Black you stand accused of the following crimes,” she began, like Dumbledore’s her tone was much softer than it had been during Pettigrew’s trial. “Failure to register as an Animagus, on one count: for knowingly and wilfully failing to register your Animagus form with the Ministry of Magic, in violation of the Animagus Registration Act of 1707.”
Everyone remained silent as Madam Bones read out the charges, the exact same ones as Pettigrew had been accused of aside from the conspiracy to pervert the course of justice charge. The air amongst the spectators didn’t feel quite as acrimonious to Amy as it had during the reading of Pettigrew’s charges, as if everyone had accepted that Sirius was innocent, and the court was merely going through the motions.
“You have heard the charges,” Dumbledore began once Madam Bones had retaken her seat, “How do you plead?”
Mr Greengrass stepped forward and answered in Sirius’s stead.
“My client wishes to enter a plea of guilty on the charge of failing to register as an animagus with extenuating circumstances for the past 116 months. On the rest of the charges, he pleads not guilty.”
“Your plea on the first charge of failing to register as an animagus is accepted.” Dumbledore replied. “We will accept discussion of accentuating circumstances later in the proceedings, once the other charges have been assessed. Due to your poor physical health, it is the decision of this court that you will not be compelled to take Veritaserum before questioning. It will only be administered at your request. I will allow you a moment to confer with your legal counsel before you respond.”
Mr Greengrass leaned in, his expression calm but intent, and the two men conversed softly. Amy watched, holding her breath as the conversation unfolded, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted Sirius to take the veritaserum or not. One the one hand if he took it then there could be no room for doubt left in anyone’s mind that he was innocent. On the other hand, due to how unhealthy he was from nine years spent in Azkaban there was every chance that the veritaserum could trigger a heart attack. She wanted her godfather to be found innocent and freed, but she also wanted him alive – alive was better than dead any day.
Every muscle in her body was tense, a coil of emotions ready to snap as she waited for the conversation to end and the court to be informed of the decision. The entire courtroom was the same, seeming to lean forward, straining to catch a word of what was being said. Not that anyone could – attorney-client-privilege – Dumbledore had cast a privacy spell around Sirius and Mr Greengrass, no one could hear a single part of the conversation.
Finally, Mr. Greengrass straightened and gave Sirius a reassuring nod, stepping back to his original position. Sirius’s gaze flickered to Amy for the briefest moment, and her heart ached at the hollow emptiness in his eyes. He looked as though he barely recognized her, as though he were still trapped behind the cold, unfeeling walls of Azkaban. But then he turned his attention back to Dumbledore and spoke, his voice rough and cracked from disuse.
“I—” Sirius faltered, his voice raspy and strained, as though each word was scraped from his very soul. “I’ll take the Veritaserum.” His eyes—stormy grey and still haunted—locked onto Dumbledore’s with a flicker of the man Amy remembered, a spark of defiance that cut through the exhaustion and pain. “I have nothing to hide.”
Dumbledore’s gaze softened, just a fraction.
“You understand the risks?”
“I understand.” Sirius’s response was firm, unwavering.
Nathaniel Greengrass stepped forward, his voice steady and clear.
“My client understands the risks associated with taking Veritaserum in his current condition. However, as he stated, he has nothing to hide and therefore considers the risk minimal, as complications typically only occur when one attempts to resist the potion.”
Dumbledore considered the lawyer’s words for a moment, then gave a small nod.
“Very well. Please administer the Veritaserum.”
The hooded Unspeakable strode forward once more, vial in hand. Sirius tilted his head back and opened his mouth without a moment’s hesitation, in stark contrast to Pettigrew’s earlier struggle. Three precise drops of the shimmering liquid fell onto his tongue, and he swallowed it without flinching, his gaze never wavering. The silence in the courtroom was absolute, every breath held as the potion took effect.
“What is your full name?” Dumbledore asked.
“Sirius Orion Black.”
“What is your date of birth?”
“The third of November 1959.”
“Did you use your Animagus form to spy on the Ministry of Magic?”
“No.”
“Did you pass on classified information you learned whilst in your animagus form to the terrorist known as Lord Voldemort?”
“No.”
“On November 1st, 1981, did you deliberately cause an explosion in a busy street in London that killed twelve muggles and injured sixty-three?”
“No.”
“Were you present when the explosion occurred?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Sirius’s voice was quiet, filled with a bone-deep weariness.
“Lily and James were dead. I knew then that Peter had betrayed them. I was an Auror. I was there to arrest him for his crimes.”
The truth settled like a heavy weight over the courtroom. Amy’s throat tightened, her heart aching as she took in the broken man sitting before them. Every word he spoke was a vindication—but it was also a reminder of how much had been stolen from him.
“Did you willingly join the terrorist group known as the Death Eaters?”
“No.”
Dumbledore turned to Fudge and Madam Bones.
“Do my fellow interrogators have any questions for Sirius Black?”
Both of them shook their heads and Dumbledore turned to the rest of the Wizengamot.
“If any other member of the judiciary wishes to submit a question to the accused, please raise your hand.”
This time, no hands were raised. The room was silent, waiting.
Dumbledore turned to the Unspeakable, who stepped forward and administered the antidote to Sirius. He blinked slowly as the effects of the Veritaserum faded, his body visibly sagging as though the confessions had drained what little strength he had left.
"Sirius Black, you have heard the charges against you and have been interrogated under Veritaserum. We have accepted your plea of guilty for the charge of failing to register as an animagus. Now the Wizengamot will deliver their verdict. Unlawful use of an unregistered Animagus form for the purpose of espionage, on seven counts, please raise your wand if you are in favour of conviction."
Not a single wand was raised, through every single charge the Wizengamot remained perfectly still. There had been no other choice—not after Pettigrew’s admission and now Sirius’s unflinching testimony—but Amy had still been holding her breath, waiting for something, anything to go wrong, like it had so many times in her past life.
“Sirius Black,” Dumbledore declared, “you are cleared of all remaining charges.”
For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, as though the world itself had paused. Sirius remained motionless, staring at the raised hands with something akin to disbelief etched into his gaunt features. Slowly, haltingly, he turned to look at Dumbledore, as if unable to comprehend what he had just heard.
“We will now accept discussion of the extenuating circumstances on your failure to register as an animagus and discuss an appropriate fine.”
Nathaniel Greengrass stepped forward then, his voice calm but firm as he addressed the courtroom.
“As my client has been cleared of all imprisonable offences, there is the matter of compensation for his unlawful incarceration.” His gaze swept across the Wizengamot, his presence commanding. “He was held in Azkaban prison without fair trial, to which he was entitled, for a period of 3,533 days—days for which he is entitled to compensation under magical law.”
“Counsel may approach the Wizengamot.”
The murmur of voices rose and fell as Mr. Greengrass approached the Wizengamot benches, his stride confident and assured. With a flick of Dumbledore’s wand, a shimmering privacy spell enveloped him and the assembled judiciary, the edges of the magical barrier shimmering softly, blocking out their voices from the rest of the chamber. Amy strained to catch any hint of the discussion, but it was as though the barrier had swallowed sound itself.
Her gaze never left Sirius. He still sat in the iron chair, staring blankly at the raised hands of the Wizengamot members. He seemed lost, drifting somewhere between disbelief and a fragile hope that flickered uncertainly in his eyes. She couldn’t imagine what was running through his mind, couldn’t fathom the war of emotions he must be grappling with—the sudden reversal of everything that had defined his life for the last ten years.
“Nathaniel will get Sirius fair compensation.” came Uncle Lucius’s low, measured voice from the other side of Aunt Cissa, drawing her attention. His pale eyes were watchful, calculating, as they tracked the ongoing discussion behind the privacy spell. “There are laws in place to prevent the Wizengamot from paying him nothing.”
Amy turned toward him, brow furrowing.
“If the laws are on our side, why are they even discussing it? Shouldn’t it be straightforward?”
Lucius inclined his head, a faint, sardonic smile playing at his lips.
“It should be, but the Wizengamot likes to find loopholes. They’re likely debating how much they can whittle down the compensation before it’s no longer considered ‘unlawful.’” His voice was soft but edged with steel. “It’s enshrined in law that anyone arrested and charged with a crime must have a trial within ninety days before they can be legally incarcerated in Azkaban. During the war, however, an emergency decree was passed allowing those suspected of being Death Eaters to be sent straight to Azkaban for holding, pending their trial.”
“Even without evidence?” Amy asked, incredulity seeping into her tone.
Lucius’s eyes darkened.
“Yes. But it was supposed to be a temporary measure, to keep dangerous suspects contained until their cases could be tried. They’ll argue that the first ninety days of Sirius’s imprisonment don’t count as ‘unlawful’ due to that emergency law.”
“But he wasn’t a Death Eater. They didn’t even try to prove it,” she bit out, a flare of anger rising in her chest. “How can they justify it?”
“They can’t—at least, not to any reasonable person.” Lucius’s voice was cool, but Amy caught the flash of something fierce in his gaze. “But bureaucrats aren’t often reasonable. They’ll try to argue that his detention was ‘lawful’ under the wartime measures and that only the time beyond those ninety days should be compensated.”
Amy clenched her fists.
“But Sirius wasn’t just in Azkaban—he was in maximum security. They put him with the worst of the worst.”
“Exactly,” Lucius agreed softly. “And Nathaniel will use that to argue for the highest compensation under the law. You see, there’s a scale—a range of compensation depending on the conditions of the confinement and the harm caused. In situations like this, the victim is entitled to both a minimum and a maximum amount for every day of unlawful imprisonment.”
He paused, watching the faint shapes behind the privacy spell with a thoughtful frown.
“Nathaniel will push for the maximum; due to the extreme nature of Sirius’s confinement and the severe physical and mental deterioration it caused. If the Wizengamot tries to negotiate for less, he’ll counter by demanding they cover all medical expenses Sirius will need for his recovery.”
Amy’s eyes widened slightly.
“So, it’s like… a bargaining game?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Lucius acknowledged. “But it’s not just about the compensation. There’s also the matter of the fine for being an unregistered Animagus. By law, all Animagi must register their forms with the Ministry, however as the law is written it only covers those aged seventeen or older, because those who wrote the laws couldn’t conceive of an underage witch or wizard being able to become an Animagus. Since Sirius didn’t, he’s liable for a fine for every month that he was unregistered after he turned seventeen.”
“Even though he was in prison?” she asked, incredulous.
“They’ll argue that, yes,” Lucius said, lips thinning slightly. “The Wizengamot will likely push for the maximum fine covering all his time in Azkaban. But Nathaniel will counter that Sirius was illegally confined and therefore unable to comply with registration laws. He’ll press for a waiver or a significantly reduced fine.”
Amy shook her head slowly, struggling to wrap her mind around the absurdity of it all.
“So… they’ll go back and forth. They’ll argue over every galleon, every possible excuse to pay less. Even though they know what happened was wrong?”
Lucius’s smile turned sharp, edged with bitterness.
“The Wizengamot loves to argue—especially when it involves money. But Nathaniel won’t let them walk away without paying what’s fair.”
Amy glanced back toward Sirius, her heart aching.
“And what’s fair?” she whispered, half to herself.
Lucius’s gaze softened, the ice in his expression melting ever so slightly.
“Nothing can compensate for what Sirius lost. But if they won’t acknowledge his suffering, Nathaniel will make them feel it—in galleons, if nothing else.”
Amy nodded slowly, the fight draining from her. Her uncle’s words were true enough, but it felt hollow. What price could they possibly put on twelve years stolen in darkness and torment? What sum could ever restore what had been shattered?
But this was the wizarding world. If they couldn’t pay with justice, then they would pay with gold.
And for now, that would have to be enough.
The shimmering privacy spell dropped, and Mr. Greengrass crossed the floor to stand beside Sirius once more, his expression calm yet unmistakably triumphant. The room held its collective breath as all eyes turned to Dumbledore. When he spoke, the verdict was like a thunderclap that reverberated through the chamber.
“The Wizengamot will pay, in compensation to Mr. Sirius Black for his unlawful imprisonment, the amount of 1,672,000 Galleons.”
A stunned gasp rippled through the gallery, the weight of the figure crashing over the audience like a wave. Even Amy’s breath caught in her throat. It was more than she’d dared to hope for. Across the room, heads turned, murmurs of disbelief and astonishment spreading like wildfire. But when she glanced at Aunt Cassiopeia and Uncle Lucius, she saw nothing, but satisfaction mirrored on their faces—just as resolute and quietly triumphant as Mr. Greengrass’s. Aunt Belvina however was glaring in the direction of the Wizengamot, Amy got the impression that nothing less than the entire treasury and possibly the surrender of the ministry to House of Black would have satisfied her.
It was a staggering sum—an amount that would leave a lesser wizard dizzy. But for what they had stolen from Sirius, it was still a pittance.
Dumbledore continued, his voice carrying firmly over the buzz of the crowd.
“An additional 50,000 Galleons will be allocated to cover all medical expenses related to healing Mr. Black from the physical and mental deterioration caused by his incarceration in the maximum-security wing of Azkaban.”
Amy exhaled slowly. That was more than just compensation—it was acknowledgment. An acceptance, however small, of the damage they had done to her godfather. The crowd murmured louder, a mixture of surprise and grudging approval. Even now, there were those who likely thought he deserved less. But none of it mattered. This was a victory, no matter how small, and Sirius deserved every knut.
Dumbledore’s gaze shifted to Sirius, his expression softening slightly.
“Mr. Sirius Black has admitted to not registering as an Animagus after he came of age. The Wizengamot acknowledges that he was unable to do so during his illegal incarceration. However, for the sixty months preceding that, he will be fined 6,000 Galleons.”
Amy tensed, a flicker of indignation sparking in her chest, but Lucius leaned closer, murmuring softly,
“It’s a symbolic gesture. They had to impose some penalty to maintain the letter of the law. Six thousand Galleons is a mere fraction of what they could have demanded.”
She swallowed her protest, nodding slowly. He was right. Compared to the compensation awarded, 6,000 Galleons was almost negligible.
Dumbledore’s expression remained serious as he continued.
“He has been granted a grace period of one month to register his form and pay the fine. After which, an additional 100 Galleons will be added for each month in which he fails to do so.”
The formalities concluded, the room seemed to exhale as one, the tension finally breaking. Amy’s gaze shifted back to Sirius. He still sat, motionless and silent, his eyes distant as though he hadn’t fully processed what had just happened. The weight of his freedom seemed almost too much for him to bear. The reparations, the formal acknowledgment of his suffering—none of it could erase what he had endured.
But it was a start.
“Let it be known in the annals of magical law: the trial is closed, and justice has been served.” Dumbledore declared with a wave of his wand, which sent the doors at the entrance swinging open. “Let all attendants now depart in peace.”