Harry Potter and the Hilltop Fortress - Chapter - 16 (Patreon)

The publication of the article in The Quibbler sent shockwaves through the wizarding world. The headline alone was enough to grab attention: "Injustice in Azkaban: The Illegal Incarceration of Sirius Black". Below it, the article detailed the facts that The Daily Prophet had either ignored or conveniently overlooked for over a decade.

It questioned how a member of one of the most prominent pure-blood families, the head of an Ancient and Noble House, could be imprisoned without a trial. The article highlighted the Ministry's mishandling of the case, pointing out that if a pure-blood could be treated this way, what hope did half-bloods or Muggle-borns have in the current system? It was a question that resonated deeply with many in the community.

Xenophilius Lovegood had been right; the article caused a stir. Within hours of The Quibbler hitting the stands, it became the talk of Diagon Alley. The Ministry of Magic, already under scrutiny for various issues, found itself facing an even greater backlash. Letters flooded into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, demanding to know why Sirius Black had never been given a trial.

Harry followed the developments with bated breath. He had been nervous about the plan, uncertain of whether it would actually work. But as the days passed, it became clear that the Ministry had no choice but to respond. The sheer volume of public outcry was too much to ignore.

The first sign that things were moving came when The Daily Prophet ran a defensive piece on the issue. They blamed the previous administration under Minister Millicent Bagnold, claiming that she had prioritized "swift justice" over proper procedure during the chaotic aftermath of Voldemort's defeat. However, the article failed to convince many, as it conveniently sidestepped the fact that Bagnold's policies had been in place for over a year after the war ended.

Public opinion shifted rapidly, and soon enough, Wizengamot members began to question the Ministry's stance. Behind closed doors, debates raged about how best to handle the situation. Some argued that Black had been a known Death Eater and that reopening his case could lead to chaos. Others pointed out that denying him a trial was a violation of basic wizarding rights.

The pressure grew until finally, the Ministry had to take action. They announced that Sirius Black would be granted a trial, though it was clear from their tone that this was not something they wanted to do. The official statement issued by Cornelius Fudge, the current Minister of Magic, framed the decision as a "necessary step to ensure transparency and uphold the values of our society."

However, The Quibbler and other publications were quick to point out that the Ministry was only acting because of the overwhelming public pressure. Even so, the announcement marked a turning point. For the first time in years, Sirius Black's name was being discussed openly, not as a fugitive but as someone who might have been wrongfully imprisoned.

Meanwhile, Harry couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and apprehension. On one hand, the article's success meant that he was one step closer to uncovering the truth about his godfather. On the other, the sudden attention on the matter made him uneasy. He knew that digging into the past could reveal things that were better left buried, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that.

Xenophilius Lovegood, however, was thrilled by the outcome. Over tea at Runestone Castle, he talked excitedly about the surge in subscriptions and how The Quibbler was finally being taken seriously. "It's not just about the Snidgets anymore, Harry," he said, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "People are beginning to realize that we're not just a magazine for oddities. We're a voice for those who aren't heard."

Despite his joy, Xenophilius also warned Harry to be cautious. "The Ministry doesn't like being embarrassed, especially not by a publication like ours. They'll do what they can to minimize the damage, and that might mean trying to bury the story again. We need to stay vigilant."

Harry agreed, but there was little he could do now except wait. The trial date was set for two weeks later, and all eyes were on what the outcome would be. As the day approached, speculation ran wild. Some believed that Sirius Black would be exonerated, while others were convinced that the Ministry would find a way to keep him locked up.

In the meantime, Harry continued his studies at Runestone Castle. But no matter how hard he tried to focus, the looming trial occupied his thoughts. He found himself wondering what Sirius Black would be like, whether he would even want to meet him. And if he did, what would Harry say to him?

The day of the trial finally arrived, and Harry found himself pacing nervously in his study. He had decided not to attend in person, fearing that his presence might cause more harm than good. Instead, he relied on updates from Xenophilius, who had managed to secure a seat in the courtroom thanks to his newfound influence.

The grand courtroom of the Wizengamot was filled to capacity. Rows of witches and wizards sat in the high, dark wooden benches, their faces tense with anticipation. The walls of the chamber were adorned with ancient tapestries, and the enchanted ceiling above mirrored the stormy sky outside. Every creak of the benches and rustle of robes echoed in the oppressive silence.

At the center of the room, bound by thick chains, sat Sirius Black. He appeared gaunt and weary from years of imprisonment in Azkaban, his long, unkempt hair hanging loosely around his face. Yet, despite his haggard appearance, his gray eyes burned with a fierce determination. This was the moment he had waited for—a chance to finally tell the truth.

The Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Albus Dumbledore, sat at the highest seat, his expression inscrutable. To his right and left, rows of stern-faced members of the Wizengamot sat, their purple robes gleaming under the dim light of floating candles.

As the trial commenced, Madam Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, stood up to address the courtroom. Her voice was clear and authoritative. "Sirius Orion Black, you stand accused of mass murder, conspiracy with Lord Voldemort, and the betrayal of the Potters. However, new evidence has come to light, and we are here to determine the truth of these charges."

She turned to the court official standing near Sirius. "Bring forth the Veritaserum."

The official stepped forward, carrying a small, clear vial of Veritaserum. The entire room seemed to hold its breath as the liquid was carefully administered. Three drops—no more, no less—were placed on Sirius's tongue.

His expression didn't change as the powerful truth serum took effect. His eyes glazed over slightly, becoming unfocused as the magic of the potion forced him into a state of total honesty. Dumbledore leaned forward, his penetrating gaze fixed on Sirius.

Madam Bones began the questioning. "Sirius Black, did you betray the Potters to Lord Voldemort?"

The courtroom fell deathly silent, every ear straining to catch his response.

In a slow, deliberate voice, Sirius answered, "No. I did not betray James and Lily Potter."

Gasps rippled through the courtroom. Some of the Wizengamot members exchanged bewildered looks, while others leaned forward, clearly intrigued by the unexpected answer.

Madam Bones continued, "Were you the Potters' Secret-Keeper?"

"No," Sirius replied, his voice steady. "We switched at the last minute. The Secret-Keeper was Peter Pettigrew."

The shock in the courtroom was palpable. The name of Peter Pettigrew had been all but forgotten by most, as he was presumed dead—killed by Sirius himself. Whispers broke out among the Wizengamot members, but Madam Bones quickly silenced them with a sharp look.

"If you were not the Secret-Keeper, why were you blamed for their deaths?" she pressed.

Sirius's voice took on a bitter edge. "Because Peter framed me. He faked his death, cut off his own finger, and left it behind to make it look like I had killed him. Then he transformed into a rat and disappeared into the sewers."

The mention of Peter's Animagus form sent another wave of murmurs through the chamber. Madam Bones seemed taken aback for a moment but quickly regained her composure.

"Why did you not tell anyone this before? Why did you not demand a trial?"Sirius's expression hardened. "I was never given the chance. As soon as I was captured, they threw me into Azkaban without a trial.

The Ministry never asked for my side of the story. They just assumed I was guilty."

A few members of the Wizengamot shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The implications of what Sirius was saying were damning—not just for him, but for the entire Ministry of Magic.

Madam Bones hesitated, then asked the next question. "Did you join Lord Voldemort and become a Death Eater?"

Sirius's voice was filled with disdain as he replied, "No. I was never a Death Eater. I despised everything Voldemort stood for."

His vehement denial seemed to shake some of the more skeptical members of the Wizengamot. Madam Bones glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded subtly, urging her to continue."

And what of the night you were captured? What were you doing when Peter Pettigrew confronted you?"

Sirius's voice trembled slightly as he recalled the memory. "I was chasing him. I wanted to kill him for betraying James and Lily. But before I could do anything, he blew up the street, killing those people, and escaped. He left me there, surrounded by the bodies. The Aurors arrived moments later, and… I laughed. I laughed because I realized how perfectly he had framed me. No one would believe the truth."

A heavy silence settled over the courtroom as his words hung in the air. Even those who had been most convinced of his guilt now looked uncertain.

Finally, Dumbledore spoke, his voice gentle but firm. "Sirius, do you know where Peter Pettigrew is now?"

Sirius hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he struggled to recall any information that might be useful. "He's hiding. As a rat. But I don't know where."

Madam Bones stepped forward, her tone now more respectful than accusatory. "Thank you, Mr. Black. The Wizengamot will now deliberate."

As she spoke, the Veritaserum began to wear off, and Sirius's eyes regained their sharpness. The chains that bound him rattled slightly as he shifted in his seat, his gaze locked on the members of the Wizengamot. His fate now lay in their hands.

The deliberation took hours, with the members of the Wizengamot arguing fiercely behind closed doors. Outside the courtroom, the wizarding world waited with bated breath. The story had spread far and wide, and everyone seemed to have an opinion on the matter.

Finally, the doors to the chamber swung open, and the Wizengamot members filed back in, their faces grave. Dumbledore took his seat once more, and Madam Bones stepped forward to announce the verdict.

"Sirius Black," she began, her voice ringing out across the silent courtroom. "The Wizengamot has reviewed the evidence, including your testimony under Veritaserum. In light of this new information, and the lack of due process in your original incarceration, we find you… not guilty of all charges."

The room erupted into chaos. Some members of the Wizengamot applauded, while others looked on in disbelief. Reporters scrambled to record every detail, quills scratching furiously on parchment.

But amidst the noise, Sirius Black simply sat there, stunned. The chains around his wrists fell away, clattering to the floor. He was free.

Harry, who had been anxiously awaiting the news from Runestone Castle, felt a wave of relief wash over him when he heard the verdict. His godfather was finally vindicated, and the truth had come to light. But as he stared out the window, he couldn't help but wonder what would happen next. Sirius Black was free—but what kind of life awaited him after so many years lost?

Sirius Black lay in the pristine, white hospital bed at St. Mungo's, his body still aching from years of malnutrition and neglect. The sterile smell of potions and healing herbs filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of clean linens. He had been admitted shortly after his trial, where he had been declared innocent of the crimes he had been falsely accused of. Now, after nine long years in Azkaban, he was finally free. But freedom came with its own set of challenges.

Sirius was weak, his muscles atrophied from the years spent in a cold, damp cell. His face, once sharp and handsome, was now gaunt, with deep lines etched from years of suffering. The Healers at St. Mungo's had put him on a strict regimen of restorative potions, nutritious meals, and enforced rest. They assured him that, with time, he would regain his strength, but it was a slow and painful process.

As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, Sirius couldn't help but think about everything he had lost. Nine years of his life had been stolen from him—years he could never get back. His best friends, James and Lily, were gone, murdered by Voldemort, and he hadn't been there to protect them. Harry, his godson, had grown up without him, and the guilt gnawed at him constantly.

Yet, despite all the darkness, there was a glimmer of hope. The Ministry had been forced to compensate him for his wrongful imprisonment, awarding him 300,000 Galleons. It wasn't about the money—Sirius had never cared for wealth—but it was a small acknowledgment of the injustice he had suffered. And after everything he'd been through, he wasn't going to turn it down. He needed something to rebuild his life, some form of reparation for the years he had lost.

The days in St. Mungo's passed slowly. The Healers had been adamant about keeping visitors away. The public's reaction to his trial had been overwhelming. People who had once believed him to be a murderer now wanted to meet him, to apologize, to congratulate him on his victory. But the nurses at St. Mungo's were strict, and they turned away anyone who came to see him. Sirius was grateful for that, even if he was lonely. He needed time to heal, both physically and emotionally.

It was during one of these quiet days, as Sirius was sipping a strengthening solution, that he overheard a conversation between two nurses. They were talking about the article that had sparked the public outcry over his imprisonment.

"Did you hear? It was that Xenophilius Lovegood who published the article about Sirius Black. The one in The Quibbler. Apparently, it caused such a stir that the Ministry had no choice but to give him a trial," one of the nurses said, her voice low but excited.

"Really?" the other nurse replied. "I always thought The Quibbler was full of nonsense, but it seems they got this one right. I suppose we should thank Lovegood for getting the truth out."

Sirius's ears perked up. Xenophilius Lovegood? He hadn't heard that name in years, but he vaguely remembered it from his youth. A quirky wizard, known for his eccentric views and his unusual magazine, The Quibbler. Sirius had always dismissed the publication as a collection of oddities and conspiracy theories, but now, it seemed, Lovegood had played a crucial role in his freedom.

The thought weighed heavily on Sirius's mind. He had been saved, not by powerful wizards or influential allies, but by a man who had the courage to publish the truth. A man who, despite his eccentricities, had the integrity to stand up against the Ministry's wrongdoings.

As Sirius lay there, he made a decision. When he was finally discharged from St. Mungo's, the first thing he would do was visit Xenophilius Lovegood. He needed to thank the man personally, to express his gratitude for what he had done. Without that article, Sirius knew he would still be rotting away in Azkaban, forgotten by the world

.Days turned into weeks, and Sirius's health gradually improved. The Healers at St. Mungo's were relentless in their care, ensuring that he regained the weight he had lost and that his magical core, weakened by years of Dementor exposure, was slowly restored. The color returned to his face, and his strength began to rebuild, though he knew it would be a long road to full recovery.

As the time of his discharge approached, Sirius found himself growing anxious. He had spent so long in isolation, surrounded by the walls of his cell, that the thought of reentering the world was both exhilarating and terrifying. But he knew he couldn't hide away forever. There were people he needed to see, conversations that needed to happen, and above all, he needed to reclaim his life.

Finally, the day arrived when the Healers declared him fit enough to leave. They offered him a final check-up, dosed him with a few more potions, and sent him on his way with strict instructions to continue his regimen at home. Sirius thanked them, though his mind was already elsewhere. He had one destination in mind: the Lovegoods' home.

Before he left St. Mungo's, Sirius paused to look at the world outside the hospital windows. The bustling streets of Diagon Alley stretched out before him, full of life and magic. It felt strange, almost surreal, to be standing there, free and on the brink of reentering society. But Sirius Black was nothing if not resilient, and with a deep breath, he stepped forward, ready to face whatever came next.

The journey to the Lovegoods' residence was uneventful, though Sirius found himself lost in thought. What would he say to Xenophilius? How could he adequately express his gratitude? As he approached the small, eccentric home of the Lovegoods, nestled in the countryside, he resolved to simply speak from the heart.

The house was exactly as he had imagined it—a whimsical tower with strange decorations and a garden filled with unusual plants. As he walked up to the front door, he took a moment to steady himself. This was a meeting he had to have, no matter how odd or uncomfortable it might be.

With a firm knock, Sirius announced his presence. A moment later, the door creaked open, and there stood Xenophilius Lovegood, looking just as quirky and peculiar as Sirius remembered. His wide, curious eyes blinked at Sirius in surprise

"Sirius Black," Xenophilius said, his voice filled with awe. "What an unexpected pleasure!"

Sirius smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest. "Mr. Lovegood, I came here to thank you. Without your article in The Quibbler, I wouldn't be standing here today. You gave me my life back."

Xenophilius's face broke into a beaming smile. "Ah, yes, the truth has a way of coming to light, doesn't it? But no need to thank me, Sirius. I merely did what needed to be done. The real credit goes to the people who read the article and demanded justice."

Sirius shook his head. "Even so, you were the one who gave them the truth. And for that, I owe you more than I can ever repay."

The two men stood there for a moment, both understanding the weight of the situation. It was a rare connection, born out of truth and the pursuit of justice.

"Come in, Sirius," Xenophilius finally said, stepping aside to let him in. "We have much to discuss."

As Sirius entered the Lovegood home, he felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. For the first time in years, he felt like he was on the path to reclaiming not just his freedom, but his purpose as well.

Sirius stepped inside the house, his senses immediately assaulted by the overwhelming array of strange and wonderful items scattered about. The walls were adorned with odd knick-knacks, and various magical artifacts hung from the ceiling. It was as if he had stepped into a different world—one where imagination reigned supreme.

Luna disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Sirius alone with Xenophilius in the cluttered living room. The older man gestured for Sirius to sit down, and they both settled into worn, mismatched chairs.

"Thank you for inviting me," Sirius began, trying to find the right words to express his gratitude. "I owe you so much for what you've done. If it hadn't been for your article in The Quibbler—"

Xenophilius held up a hand to stop him, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Ah, Sirius, I'm afraid you've misunderstood," he said, his voice full of mystery. "You see, it wasn't me who truly helped you. I was merely the conduit. The real credit belongs elsewhere."

Sirius frowned, confused. "What do you mean? If it wasn't you, then who—?"

Xenophilius leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "There was someone else who brought your case to my attention. Someone who cared deeply about seeing justice served. Someone who was determined to uncover the truth about your imprisonment."

Sirius's mind raced as he tried to piece together what Xenophilius was saying. "Someone else?" he repeated, his voice laced with curiosity. "Who? Who asked you to investigate my case?"

Xenophilius's expression grew even more enigmatic. "Patience, Sirius," he said. "All will be revealed soon enough."

Just then, Luna returned with a tray of tea and set it down on the low table between them. She poured a cup for Sirius and handed it to him with a smile. "Here you go, Mr. Black. It's nettle tea. Good for clearing the mind."

Sirius accepted the cup gratefully, though his mind was far from clear. He took a sip, the warmth of the tea doing little to quell the storm of thoughts whirling in his head. He couldn't stop thinking about who this mysterious benefactor might be.

Xenophilius, sensing Sirius's impatience, set his own cup of tea down and rose from his chair. "I think it's time we bring in the person who truly deserves your thanks," he said.

Sirius watched as Xenophilius crossed the room to the fireplace, where he grabbed a small container of Floo powder from the mantel. With a practiced hand, Xenophilius tossed the powder into the flames, which roared to life, turning a vivid green. He knelt down and called out into the fire, his voice loud and clear. "Elf! Elf! Norky, where is Harry? If you find him, tell him to come to my house immediately."

Sirius, still seated, could hear the echo of a response from the other side of the flames, though he couldn't make out the words. His heart skipped a beat. Harry? Could it be? His godson, Harry Potter?

Xenophilius pulled his head out of the fireplace and turned back to Sirius, who was now leaning forward in his chair, wide-eyed with anticipation. "Yes," Xenophilius said, as if reading Sirius's thoughts. "It was Harry who asked me to help you. He's the one who started this whole thing."

Sirius felt a wave of emotion crash over him. Harry. His godson. The boy he had sworn to protect, the child he had been wrongfully kept from for so many years. And now, that very same boy had somehow managed to save him.

Before Sirius could fully process what he was feeling, the fire roared again, and with a loud whoosh, a body flew out of the flames, landing on the floor in a tangle of limbs. A young boy, about ten years old, quickly scrambled to his feet, brushing soot from his clothes. His glasses were askew on his nose, and his messy black hair stuck up in all directions.

"Man," the boy groaned, "when am I going to learn how to do that gracefully, like Luna does?"

Sirius stared at the boy, his heart pounding in his chest. There was no mistaking it. This was Harry Potter. His Harry. The resemblance to James was uncanny—the same unruly hair, the same bright green eyes that had belonged to Lily. Sirius's throat tightened as he watched Harry look around the room, his gaze finally landing on Sirius.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Then Harry smiled—a small, shy smile that instantly melted Sirius's heart.

"Hello, Sirius," Harry said quietly, his voice filled with warmth.

Sirius stood up slowly, his legs feeling like they might give out beneath him. "Hi, Harry," he managed to say, his voice thick with emotion. "I never expected to see you this soon, but I was thinking about finding you as soon as I got out of here."

Harry took a step closer, his smile growing wider. "I'm glad you're here," he said. "I've wanted to meet you for a long time."

Sirius felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. "And I've wanted to meet you too, Harry," he said softly. "More than you can imagine."

The room seemed to fade away as Sirius and Harry stood there, finally reunited after so many years apart. For Sirius, it was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He had been given a second chance—a chance to be the godfather he had always wanted to be, to protect Harry and be there for him, just as he had promised James and Lily all those years ago.

Xenophilius and Luna watched the reunion in silence, both of them sensing that this was a moment too precious to interrupt. Luna smiled softly to herself, her eyes twinkling with an understanding far beyond her years. Xenophilius, ever the eccentric, quietly sipped his tea, his expression thoughtful.

Finally, Sirius broke the silence. "Harry," he said, his voice still shaky, "I don't even know how to thank you. You saved my life—literally."

Harry shook his head, his expression earnest. "You don't have to thank me, Sirius," he said. "I just did what was right. You didn't deserve to be in Azkaban. And… well, I guess I wanted to know more about you. About my parents. I thought… maybe we could help each other."

Sirius nodded, feeling a surge of affection for the boy standing before him. "We can," he said firmly. "And we will. I promise you, Harry, we'll get through this together."

The two of them stood there for a moment longer, and then, as if on cue, Luna reappeared with a plate of biscuits. "I think we all need a bit of cheering up," she said brightly, offering the plate to Sirius.

Sirius chuckled, grateful for the small distraction. He took a biscuit and bit into it, savoring the simple pleasure of good food and good company. For the first time in years, he felt hopeful about the future.

As the afternoon wore on, Sirius, Harry, Xenophilius, and Luna sat together, talking and laughing, sharing stories and making plans for the future. The warmth of the Lovegood home, combined with the joy of being reunited with Harry, filled Sirius with a sense of peace he hadn't felt in a very long time.