Six months prior to the events described.
Sirius Black was angry. Not just angry, but terribly angry. After learning that his godson was accused of murdering a Hogwarts student, the man appeared at the Headmaster's office, despite still being a wanted man.
- How can you do this? An innocent boy in Azkaban?! - Black paced the room nervously, while the headmaster sat quietly at his desk. - I don't give a damn about memories! Like you don't know they can be faked! A skilled Legilimentalist like Snape, or even Voldemort, could fake any thought in a heartbeat! - He shouted as he saw Albus about to open his mouth. - I know all your excuses! What about the Chosen One, the fight against evil? Are you looking for a new scapegoat, Headmaster?
- My boy, you are mistaken," Dumbledore objected gently. - The evidence is there, and it is undeniable. It would be better for Harry's own good if he confessed what really happened.
- What was it like? Do you really think a fourth year boy is capable of such meanness in the presence of the darkest self-styled Lord? A boy who prefers Expelliarmus to fighting spells is simply incapable of Avada! - Black was ready to turn into a dog and claw at Albus' throat. - Merlin Almighty, open your eyes, Dumbledore! Go through the records, the memories, arrange a meeting with my godson, I'll find out what happened there myself!
- No! Dumbledore was adamant. - I trust Snape and his abilities. It would be better for everyone. There is no telling what happened in that graveyard. - The old man's voice softened slightly. - I fear Voldemort may have affected the boy's mind, and he is not at all bright now. I'm sorry, Sirius.
- Oh, you're sorry?! You're sorry? Why don't you go far and wide, Headmaster? - Black, not holding back too much, literally shouted, hovering over the table and clawing at it with all his might. - I never want to see you in my house again. Never again, do you hear? And none of your 'followers'. You're all traitors.
Sirius' voice cracked. The man couldn't bear it and drew his wand and whispered:
- I swear by magic that neither you, nor your order, nor any of those creatures who cursed my godson after the trial will ever set foot in my house again...
A blue flash of lightning confirmed the oath. Without a second's hesitation, Black grabbed a handful of gunpowder and disappeared into the green flames of the fireplace.
Entering Black's house, Sirius raged and smashed everything in sight for a long time before he was completely exhausted. Then he called for a bottle of his father's collector's wine, took a few deep sips and thought hard, realising for the first time his level of infantilism since the day he had entrusted the baby to Harry Hagrid and thrown himself into the pursuit of Pettigrew. If he hadn't made such a rash decision then, things might have been very different now. Black would have lived here in peace with his godson, and nothing like this would have been allowed in his destiny.
The thought of getting his godson out of this damned prison came to him. But how could he do that when he himself was outlawed? And what could Sirius do to prove his own innocence? Go to the Aurorat? He would be quickly caught and returned to his cell in Azkaban, without trial or investigation. So we would have to go to the higher authorities.
A few days later, a middle-aged man entered the international section of the Wizengamot. He was tall and slender, though his grey hair poked through his blue-black hair. The suit peeking out from under a tightly cut robe indicated the visitor's wealth and prestige.
Approaching the secretary's desk, the man spat without smiling:
- Seamus Wilde, Solicitor. To the head of the department.
The secretary, after conjuring a Patronus and checking the wizard's wand, asked:
- Have you made an appointment?
- The head will see me anyway. My business cannot be delayed. - Mr Wilde grimaced.
The doors to the next room swung open. A man entered. The head of the Wizengamot's International Department, Carlsby Smithson, rose from his chair and with a wave of his wand conjured up a comfortable sofa and coffee table:
- Mr Wilde, please. What brings you here?
Wilde began without preamble:
- "I have Sirius Black's case on file. And I've been authorised to defend him in court.
- But his case was dismissed some thirteen years ago.
- No, Mr Smithson. I have evidence of his innocence.
A bulging file was placed on the table. Carlsby Smithson had examined all the material sent to him. There were the memory vials, the voluntarily signed application for truth serum, the thick report on Black's lack of investigation on the 12th of August '81, the evidence of the faked death of Pettigrew... Smithson was in shock:
- You realise this is a bomb, don't you?
Wilde smiled rather smugly:
- Of course. And I'm going to win this case.
A long trial began. At the request of the court, Aurorat set up a special team to investigate the case, which uncovered witnesses, new details and numerous details. After a month, the trial finally began and lasted over a week.
In the end, Sirius was acquitted, given a scroll exonerating him of all charges and a certificate from Gringotts compensating him for twelve years in Azkaban. Black immediately bought a new wand to replace his broken one. Ollivander moaned and groaned for a long time, but finally picked up an ebony wand with a hippogriff feather core.
All the while Sirius had been trying to regain his good name, Dumbledore and his followers had not stopped trying to break into Black's house. There was no way the Headmaster was going to lose his convenient headquarters in the centre of London. Talking to the man was also in the Elder's plans. Otherwise, Merlin forbid, he'd get into the wrong business. After all, whatever was being done was for the greater good. So the wizard reasoned, but no attempt had been successful: Sirius was out of contact, the house hidden by Fidelius' charms did not appear. He had to give up and leave.
In the days that followed, Black went on a rampage, trying to get a date with his godson, now on a legitimate basis. But the Ministry of Magic, having received a copy of the acquittal, was in no hurry to allow Sirius to visit Harry. After all, Black was the only criminal to have escaped from the most heavily guarded prison, and Fudge feared he might repeat the feat by helping his godson.
The granite of bureaucracy proved to be beyond Sirius's grasp. A few months of constant attempts to storm the Minister's office had yielded no results. Black had no luck with anyone he turned to. Angry and self-loathing, he spent his evenings chugging firewhiskey and shouting at Kreacher.
Unlike Sirius, Neville and Luna managed to visit Harry. Mrs Longbottom helped them by causing a scandal in the Minister's office. Even so, the classmates didn't stay in the cell for more than a few minutes - the caretakers got them out very quickly.
***
Sirius spent long idle evenings wandering around the house, chasing out the doxies that had taken up residence in the dusty curtains, repairing the peeling wallpaper and the damp furniture. When he reached his room, Sirius collapsed on his bed. It was covered with the beauties of Witchpool, posters of Quidditch teams and collographs. Everything seemed to have a life of its own: the beauties were smiling and making eyes, the players were scurrying about, flying from poster to poster, the collographs had boys in Gryffindor robes in their arms. One of them wore silly toy horns around his rim and round glasses, another winked his blue eyes from under his black curls, and the third stood shyly on the edge, smiling tiredly.
Sirius froze for a moment, staring sadly at the picture. James, Remus and himself. Peter hadn't managed to catch the picture then, he'd always been the quiet one. Yes, too much had changed in the last fifteen years. Remus is unknown, Peter is a renegade traitor, James is in his grave and Sirius himself has all but collapsed under the weight of his problems. And yet today was the last day of July, his godson's birthday.
Shaking his head as if to shake off the unhappy thoughts, Black decided to tidy up the place as well, and grabbed the desk drawers. Opening them, Sirius began to toss the papers into the fireplace, at the same time running his eyes over them. After a few minutes, the man froze in surprise. Amongst the other crumpled and grey papers, a letter with a lily mark stood out, bright and fresh, and next to it was the name of the addressee: "Sirius Orion Black".
He sniffed - the parchment definitely carried the scent of lilies. An unpleasant, dull pain appeared in his chest. Quickly, Sirius tweaked the sealing wax with his fingernail and opened the envelope.
"Dear Sirius.
I have enchanted this letter so that, in the event of our death, you will receive it on Harry's fifteenth birthday. You are listed as his wizarding guardian, and James and I would like our boy to make good use of the Rod gifts he received for his birthday. Do you remember when James used to carry around a dragon figurine that blew funny fire all the time? And all that dragon talk when he pretended to be their master and tried to summon them? We thought he was crazy, so we tried to make a joke out of it. In fact, James is a descendant of the Dragonlord, and Harry is now the only one who can become a Dragonbrother, because he's the last of the Potter bloodline. He just needs a mentor who will be friend, brother and father at the same time..."
The letter was a little blurry at this point. Apparently Lily was crying.
"Tramp, I took the parchment from Lily, she was drenched in tears. I want to say, Brother - you are a glorious godfather, and for all our adventures, I ask you to help my son with his inheritance. I'm not comfortable with that. Perhaps Harry will be able to accept it and use it. I understand the burden on you, having been involved with our child for over ten years. Give him the enclosed letter, it's very detailed. The scrolls and books on dragons are in the house in Godric's Hollow, in the cellar. All the records that have been collected there for generations by previous overlords, albeit unawakened... You can open the doors with a drop of Potter's blood. We believe in you and send you our blessing..."
The silvery dust settled on the man's trembling fingers and disappeared. Ah, if only they'd known! Sirius looked down and sighed heavily. He knew he would have helped his godson without any reminders from his late friends, but to hear from them with such wishes was beyond him.
He tidied up the house, but didn't put his mother's portrait away, thinking it would give him an excuse to argue with someone. Then Black took care of himself. Whether it was the letter or something else, there was little to remind him of the thin, feverish looking prisoner of Azkaban. His hair fell in neat waves over his shoulders, and the despair of the beast was gone from his eyes. Sirius even recovered a little: Kikimer, bad as she was, listened and cooked. The pantry filled with food and the house reeked of cleanliness.
After a while, Black decided to try Mr Wilde again, since nothing was working for him. But he had hardly left the house when an unknown snipe dropped a letter on his doorstep. He took out his wand, checked the envelope for curses and powders, opened it and couldn't believe his eyes. He read it a few more times and almost cried when he realised what the short note was telling him.
"Mr Black,
"You wanted you to know that Harry Potter has been released. His innocence has been proven and he will now be taken to Hogwarts to recover from Azkaban."
No signature, no address. Just the beautiful watermark of the Longbottom house. Black grinned wryly, hid the letter, and apparated.
***
Attempts to break into Hogwarts were unsuccessful, not even Mr Wilde could help. Dumbledore had sealed the school with such strong shields that he had to open the passages himself whenever necessary: the lawyer and Black were denied access to the castle. To make matters worse, there were anti-animagic spells all around. Black had no one to turn to, all communication was cut off. Every night, the man dulled his senses with alcohol, drinking himself to death.
Around the beginning of September, Black decided to try again to break into Hogwarts. Once again in vain. When he returned, hungry and pissed, he poured himself a flaming whiskey and sat down with his feet up on the desk in his study. But then there was a cry from Mrs Black's portrait. After cursing, Sirius left the glass and went out into the hall. Someone was in the kitchen. The man drew his wand and slipped out, swinging the doors open.
***
A few seconds after Dobby and Harry disappeared from the Great Hall, they landed in Grimmauld Square at twelve o'clock. The cold wind blew through his hair and into his skin, leaving an unpleasant chill in his soul. Cautiously, Harry opened the door and slipped inside, his wand at the ready. The corridor was bright and clear. Harry glanced at Dobby and cautiously continued on his way.
As he made his way down the corridor, Potter stumbled and a floorboard creaked beneath his feet. An eerie scream came from around the bend in the living room:
- Bastards! Spawn of vice and filth! Scum! Get out of here, you freaks! How dare you desecrate my ancestral home, traitors of pure blood?
Walburga Black's portrait continued to curse those who dared disturb his blessed peace and privacy. Harry managed to quickly close the curtains on the frame and the shouting stopped. Looking into the kitchen, Potter was stunned. Dobby was waving a frying pan and the bound and gagged Kikimer sat in the corner, shaking his head and spitting.
- Dobby, what is it?
- Kikimer, the evil elf, he was talking about Harry Potter, sir, bad words! Dobby tied him up so Kikimer wouldn't hurt anyone else.
Potter grimaced:
- Dobby, untie him, I need to talk to him!
With a snap of his fingers, Kreacher tumbled sideways, awkwardly to his feet.
- Kikimer, find Sirius! He's your master - you must know where he is!
- Sirius Black is an unworthy host, but Kreacher knows where the Mistress's traitorous son is hiding!
- Find him now and bring him to this house!
- The unworthy Potter is not Kreacher's master, Kreacher will not obey him.
At this point, Dobby couldn't take it any longer.
- Harry Potter, sir, Dobby can help, Dobby will hit Kikimer and he'll go!
- Right! Whoa, stop!" came a hoarse voice from the door.
Harry drew his wand, but it was too late. He was caught in the Godfather's firm embrace. The housekeepers scattered to their corners. Dobby rejoiced, wiping tears with the dirty hem of the pillowcase he was wearing, while Kikimer muttered as she rubbed the edge of the stove.
- It's so good to see you! - Potter was genuinely pleased with the godfather.
- It's good to see you too, Godfather! - Sirius shrugged nervously. - I'm sorry, I should have been there for you and not let you go to prison. I put too much faith in Dumbledore and he did nothing to get you out.
- I know it's not your fault. I have nothing to forgive you for! - Potter shouted angrily, "Sirius, I need your help! I want to hide from all my former friends and acquaintances so that even the 'great' Albus Dumbledore can't find me! I've lost almost everything in the last six months: trust, happiness, friendship... I want to hide and take revenge on everyone who abandoned me when I needed them most!
- Harry, I'll see to that," Black smiled broadly. - You only got into this house because I put you under the spell, because you are my godson. You're perfectly safe here, I assure you. The Magic House has been protected by a web of spells since my grandfather's time, and I've recently added a few more family spells. Look, maybe you're hungry and I'm just babbling.
- No. Not yet. But I could use a cup of tea. - Potter sat down on a round stool at the long table.
Black waved his wand. Dishes moved and the table was set for tea.
They had a long talk. Sirius talked about how he'd fought his way through and tried to get his godson out, Harry was glad his godfather wasn't indifferent, and Harry in turn talked about what had happened at Hogwarts when he'd been taken there.
It was time to think about what to do next. Ever since his first year, when Harry had seen Norbert, he had dreamed of dragons and was ready to dedicate his life to studying them. All that remained was to find the right place. And there was plenty of time. Running away from Hogwarts blocked all training opportunities, but there was a way out, and Sirius was a former Auror and the only one of the Black family who had not lost all his knowledge of dark magic. He had not forgotten the library at Black's house, which was nothing like the one at Hogwarts, and he knew he would have to do his best to achieve his goal.
The tea party turned into a full dinner, prepared by Dobby, and they couldn't get enough of each other, sharing their plans for the future. Sirius kept telling jokes and stories about the Marauders, knowing that after Azkaban, a human voice was heavenly music. Eventually, Harry's eyes fell asleep at the table and Black sent him to the room he had prepared for him. The day ended safely.