//------------------------------//
// 97 — Unsettling Revelations 
// Story: If Wishes were Ponies . . . . 
// by tkepner 
//------------------------------//

“There were definitely five horcruxes,” Twilight said. She leaned back into the comfortable chair across the desk from Albus. They both looked at the ruined ring on his desk.

The ring was blackened by the corrosive basilisk fang, now in the box beside it. One stab from across the room was all it had taken. The ring’s protective spells had barely had time to react to the assault.

Still, Albus stared at the ring forlornly. A priceless treasure desecrated by an egotistical madman. The Gaunt family ring. Handed down through the ages, inherited from the Peverells.

And, if he was correct, one of the Deathly Hallows.

He had been hasty. He should have kept the cloak for a few weeks more. Then he would have had all three, together. The dream of wizards and witches for centuries.

The wand had been the first true clue that the Hallows existed. He knew it the moment he touched it all those years ago. He had ignored Gellies’ bragging beforehand, but when he had won the duel, he knew. And Gellie, despite his protestations, hadn’t really wanted to win that duel. 

No more than had Albus. Not if it meant killing the other. Which was the only way the wand could lose — not wanting to win lost the wizard the wand’s allegiance.

It felt more . . . alive . . . than any wand he had ever encountered. He knew, deep inside himself, instantly, what it was.

The cloak was probably a Hallow. No definite clues there, though. Just that it had survived intact and in perfect working condition for centuries. Most cloaks lost their effectiveness in a few decades. 

A distant ancestor of the Potters had married a daughter of the Peverells, he had discovered in his research. Just as had a distant ancestor of the Gaunts.

The Peverell ring, he could see, was definitely a Hallow. The clue was deeply carved into it. A round black stone with triangle containing a circle, both bisected by a vertical line. The Peverell coat of arms. 

The stone was insert in a gold ring, now broken and scared. The stone itself had a jagged crack through the middle of it. Had it been destroyed? Were its legendary powers lost forever?

If only he had kept the cloak for another week, he would have known if the legends were true, that the three items were gifts from the avatar of death. 

Or merely extremely powerful artefacts? Albeit ones created by a wizard who could rival Merlin in power.

Only experimentation would find the secret. Experimentation he would do when he was alone.

Maybe he could borrow the cloak back from Harry?

“You’re sure?” Albus said, glancing at Twilight.

“Yes. It fits the curve nicely. There are two we haven’t found yet, for sure.” She sighed. “But we don’t know if there are any horcruxes previous to this one.” She pursed her lips, thinking.

“Then we know he has six parts to his soul with these, so if he wanted seven, he would need one more horcrux,” the wizard said. 

“But was he planning on one more? Or had he already created it? Was Harry the accidental fifth or sixth?”

They sat a moment, each lost in their thoughts.

Dumbledore sighed and opened his secret drawer. He reverently put the destroyed ring in it. A moment later, the basilisk fang joined it. He closed the drawer.

“It is so weird,” Twilight said, “To know that those two items were on your desk, and now I have no idea where they are.” She shook her head and shivered.

“Thank you for your assistance in this matter,” he said.

“Gladly.”

“I might have another in a few weeks.”

She smiled broadly. “Excellent!” She paused a moment, as if considering, then said, “I wonder if you could help me, now,” Twilight said.

Albus quirked one of his eyebrows and slightly tilted his head. After all the Equestrian had done in the last few months, she had never really asked him for anything. Ordered, perhaps. Berated, certainly.

And not without cause, he had to admit. 

“It has to do with Sirius Black.”

The other eyebrow shot up.

“I’ve read all the accounts of what happened the night Harry was orphaned.” She looked at him.

“And the facts are lacking. And what facts are presented seem to be contradictory.”

He frowned.

“Harry and I would like your help in determining the truth.” Then she explained the contradictions: Sirius betraying his best friend for no apparent reason; Sirius being the godfather; Sirius hating all Death Eaters; the unlikeliness of a child hiding his true feelings from both all his friends and the adults around him; how his own family vilified him for being against Voldemort; his wand never being tested for spells; and the real impossibility of an explosion tearing apart muggles yet leaving only a finger of the victim? 

And then she asked why Sirius, unlike most of the known Death Eaters, was never given a trial, not even an interview. Others caught at the scene of their crimes, such as at the Longbottoms’ home, all received trials. Why hadn’t he?

“He supposedly was laughing and saying he had killed them. Did no one suspect he might have been hit with a laughing charm? He was fighting another wizard, after all. And then maybe hit with a confundus, as well? Both would explain his actions when captured,” she reasoned.

“In Equestria, if someone had presented those facts in an accusation to the Princesses, Sirius would have been questioned immediately. And if he refused to answer, he would have had to have been released on insufficient evidence.”

She stared at Albus. “Yet you have him in Azkaban.” She shook her head. “He was one of your fighters in your secret Order of the Phoenix. Why didn’t you see him? Why didn’t you want to know what had happened? A commander should always question when his troops get in trouble. Especially if it’s something that is contrary to their character. It could have been a setup, after all.”

She shook her head. “It seems as if someone wanted him in prison, and didn’t care about evidence. They just used popular opinion against him because he was the son of Orion and Walburga Black. And the reputation of the Black family.”

He leaned back. He had never really considered the evidence that way. In the confusion of the last days of the war, just getting the Death Eaters on trial had been a struggle in the Wizengamot. And the attacks had continued for weeks afterwards, further muddying the waters. Only the Death Eaters they had caught in the act had gone to Azkaban. And they were ones who had fought back against the aurors and been captured at the scene.

And Minister for Magic Bagnold had assured him that Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Barty Crouch, Senior, had taken Sirius Black’s confession, himself. That the evidence was incontrovertible. That Sirius Black, James Potter’s close friend, had been an undercover Death Eater, guilty of betraying the Potters, and killing Peter Pettigrew. And guilty of killing a dozen harmless muggles.

Albus had believed his friends in the Ministry. He hadn’t considered that maybe they held grudges against the flamboyant wizard. Or his parents.

He had known the Order had had a security leak, all those years ago. There had just been too many occasions where his people had been led into a trap. At first, he had thought it was Remus, the werewolf. But seeing how devastated he had been on discovering his friends were dead, Albus had quickly realized that the wolf couldn’t have been the problem. And with Sirius’ “confession” it seemed the traitor had been identified.

He sighed. Then told the princess all he knew that had happened that night. He had been fighting other Death Eaters when the alert had happened. He had sent Hagrid as the only wizard he could spare, and whose magic resistance might have stood a chance against whatever was happening in Godrick’s Hollow. And Hagrid had told him of the events at the Potters’ house.

Twilight listened closely, then said, “That makes no sense.” She frowned darkly. “If Sirius Black had wanted to kill Harry, he had plenty of time to do so before Hagrid arrived. And Sirius could have been well away by the time he did arrive. No one would have suspected Sirius in the least.”

Albus had to admit she had a point. Reluctantly, he said, “What would you have me do? I can’t release him without solid evidence.”

She grimaced. “You mean like the ‘solid’ evidence used to convict him?”

He sighed. “The Wizengamot and Minister Fudge would fight me on this, if I tried to get him released without evidence. As far as they are concerned, it is done and over with.”

“I want him to have a trial. In front of witnesses. To ask him if he’s a Death Eater. To ask him if he betrayed his friends. To ask him if he supported Voldemort. And to test his wand, assuming the Ministry still has it.”

She shifted in her chair. “I’ve tried having a solicitor look into it, but no one in the Ministry will talk to him. They all dismissed his arguments as irrelevant. That alone tells me there’s more going on than someone wants us to know. If the wizard was truly guilty, why not talk about it? Why not spread the truth of his heinous actions? Why not show everyone the conclusive evidence? Why depend on rumours and popular opinion to convict a man?”

She sighed. “Unless he’s innocent, they know it, and they want him to remain in Azkaban.”

She leaned forward. “You can ask to see his wand, and test it before witnesses. Do it quickly, before anyone can taint the evidence.”

He leaned back in his chair, and stroked his beard.

“It the wand test is inconclusive, ask to visit the wizard himself. Talk to him. See what he remembers. Find out if he really did betray his friends. At the very least, ask why he did it.” She shrugged. “If he admits it, then the case is settled. No trial is necessary.” She stared at Albus. “If you meet with him and say he is guilty,” she grimaced, “I will drop the matter.”

It was her turn to lean back in her chair and wait.

It was a long wait. 

Finally, Albus stirred. “Come, let’s do it now. We’ll view his wand and see what we can glean from that.” He walked to the floo, threw in the floo-powder, and said, “Ministry of Magic, Atrium.”

The Ministry was mostly closed on weekends, barring emergencies, but there was always a guard on duty. They headed across the large lobby to a desk with the sign SECURITY suspended over it.

Twilight had never been in the atrium before, and he watched as she looked around interestedly. She barely glanced at the highly polished, dark wood floor, but did notice that the peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that continually moved and changed — the runes that protected the ministry from muggle discovery and kept the ministry workers safe. The many gilded fireplaces on either side of the long hall, set in shiny dark wood walls, were empty, at the moment.

She most certainly did notice the fountain halfway down the atrium’s length. The larger than life-size golden statues stood in the middle of a circular pool. The symbolism of the centaur, goblin, and house-elf staring adoringly at the wizard and witch was hard to miss, and he was sure she hadn’t. Glittering jets of water were flying from the ends of the two wands, the point of the centaur’s arrow, the tip of the goblin’s hat, and each of the house-elf’s ears, so that the tinkling hiss of falling water filled the atrium.

As the only ones present, their footsteps echoed through the hall, backed by the tinkling water from the fountain.

Albus found himself blushing slightly at the look she gave him as they passed the fountain.

“Chief Warlock!” said the badly shaven wizard in peacock-blue robes as they approached behind the desk. He hastily dropped the Playwizard he had been reading into a drawer.

“I have a visitor I’m escorting,” said Dumbledore, gesturing toward Twilight.

“Step over here,” said the wizard, smiling uncertainly at the Head of the Wizengamot.

Twilight walked closer to him and watched curiously as the wizard held up a long golden rod. It was thin and flexible. He waved it up and down Twilight’s front and back.

He put down the golden instrument and held out his hand. “Wand, please,” the security wizard said politely.

The wizard placed Twilight’s wand onto a strange brass instrument. It looked like a set of scales, but with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore this off and read the writing upon it.

“Eleven inches, two alicorn-hairs core, been in use four . . . months? That correct?” He frowned and reread the parchment, then looked back up at the clearly adult witch.

“Yes, it is. I got it in August.”

He shrugged. “I keep this,” he said, impaling the slip of parchment on a small brass spike. “And this is yours,” he added, gently handing the wand to Twilight.

“Thank you,” she said. Smiling as she took it back and slid it into her holster.

“Thank you, Eric,” Albus said, eyes twinkling.

The wizard’s eyes grew wide, and he blushed, flattered that the Headmaster remembered him from Hogwarts. “No, thank you, Chief Warlock. I hope your business today goes well.”

The wizard slowly sat back down, and watched as the two headed for the gates at the end of the Atrium. It didn’t take them long.

With a great jangling and clattering a lift descended in front of them and the golden grille slid back. Twilight and Albus moved inside it. Neither had anything to say after Albus pressed the appropriate button.

A voice, Albus knew it was a spell, announced each floor as they passed it. Finally, the voice said, “Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services.”

They exited and headed down the hall. Albus lead the way into the Auror Headquarters. A young auror sat at a desk just inside the door. He straightened as they entered. He also had been reading a book — a training manual. He laid it on the desk, stood, and said, “May I help you, Chief Warlock?”

Albus smiled and stroked his beard. “Yes, Jim, I believe you can. I would like to see Sirius Black’s wand, and test it with the prior incantato spell. I just discovered that that test had never been done.”

The wizard, flattered that Albus remembered his name, said, “Why? He was convicted ten years ago.”

“I’m afraid not. He was never given a trial. And someone has raised the point that without performing that spell on his wand, which was never done, we can’t be sure he was the cause of the explosion that killed so many.”

The auror frowned. “I’d like to help, but only the Head Auror is allowed to give that permission, especially considering whose wand we’re talking about.”

Albus nodded genially. “I know, so if you could notify Rufus of my presence and request, he can supply such permission.”

The young wizard stood uncertain for a moment, then nodded. He walked over to a fireplace, ignited it, and floo-called Rufus Scrimgeour. Rufus was not pleased, but minutes later he was standing in front of the Chief Warlock.

“What’s this about pulling Sirius Black’s wand?” he demanded gruffly.

Dumbledore carefully explained what they had realized — that the available facts just didn’t seem to support the theories.

Frowning, the auror said, “Anyone but Black, I could do it without question. For him, I’d better contact Amelia.”

Ten minutes later, the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was nodding her head thoughtfully. “You’re right. Well, we can settle this rather quickly. Rufus, take us to the wand lockup.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were looking at each other, stunned. A shield spell, a tracking spell, an apparition, a long-range tracking spell, an animagus reveal spell, and a tracking spell were the first six spells that came off the wand. The wand repeated the last four spells several times.

“Are you sure this is Black’s wand?” asked Amelia, looking at Head of the Aurors.

“Positive,” said Rufus. “It matches all his records and this,” he held up an evidence ticket, “shows that this is the wand that was taken from him. The seal shows it hasn’t been taken from the box since it was put in it ten years ago.”

“Well,” said Twilight dryly, “we know he is innocent of the charges of killing Peter Pettigrew and the muggles in that street.”

Amelia stared at the purple-haired Equestrian. She had read about the Equestrians at Hogwarts, Albus knew.

Rufus took a breath, then said, “But he’s still guilty of betraying the Potters and their deaths! And being a Death Eater.”

“Maybe,” said the Director. 

Scrimgeour gave her an uncertain look.

“He never had a trial, so we really don’t know, now do we?”

“He confessed!”

“But to what? Everyone thought he was confessing to killing Peter and the muggles.” She pointed at the wand. “But they were wrong, weren’t they?”

She looked at the Chief Warlock. “I think a visit to Azkaban is in order.” She sighed. “Because this concerns Sirius Black I should advise the Minister I am going there. But it’s not necessary.” She glanced at the three members of the Ministry and Twilight.

It took only another ten minutes before they were standing outside the Auror Station opposite Azkaban. The boat trip across the water took another thirty minutes. All five wore the Dementor medallions to protect them from the frightening creatures.

Despite the heavy use of warming charms, they were all goose-bumped from the cold. They were met at the entrance to the prison by one of the Dementors. Albus could see the wide-eyed and horrified look on Princess Twilights face as the creature opened the gate to meet them.

“I am the Ministry Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones. Take us to prisoner Peorth Colhx three nine zero.” Amelia said firmly to the creature, her hand on the medallion.

It floated impassively for a few minutes, then drifted away from the gate. After a moment, the group followed. Despair hung around them like an invisible cloak. Dumbledore cast a patronus, which then flew above him. The warmth it radiated made them instinctively cluster closer to him.

They followed the creature as it went lower and lower in the prison-tower until finally they stood in front of a particular cage in the row built into the corridor wall.

Amelia quickly cast a spell to keep their conversation private — both ways.

The wizard on the rock bed in the cage just looked at them hollowly. At first, Dumbledore thought the wizard might be mindless, given his blank stare. After a moment, though, he frowned, stood, and staggered to the bars separating them. Sirius Black was a mere shadow of himself, compared to how he had looked and acted ten years ago.

“Headmaster?” he managed to croak. “They finally told you they arrested me?” He stared at the old wizard, hope in his eyes. 

The three ministry officials exchanged looks. Amelia Bones stepped slightly forward. “Sirius Black,” she said.

The wan wizard turned his head to look at her. He squinted and frowned. “Amelia?” Then he looked at the other man. “Rufus?” He looked at Twilight and just stared. “I don’t know you,” he mumbled.

“Sirius Black,” Amelia repeated, “Are you a Death Eater?”

He leaned his head back, then frowned deeply. “NEVER,” he said as loudly as he could. “I would NEVER be a Death Eater. I’d rather die first.” He looked lost for a moment. “James is dead. Lily, too. I saw them. Just lying there. Dead,” he whispered. “Why aren’t I dead instead of them?” He perked up, “Harry is safe! I gave him to Hagrid.” He turned back to the Chief Warlock. “Harry’s safe, right? You have him safe, right?”

Albus nodded, “Yes. Harry is safe. And quite well.”

“How did He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named . . . ,”

“Voldemort, Amelia,” Albus chided.

She gave him an irritated glance, and started again. “How did He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named find the Potters.”

Sirius Black slammed his head into the bars, starling them. “It’s my fault! I killed them!” he cried. “I talked them into changing the Secret Keeper to Peter!” He sobbed. “I said I would act as a decoy. No one would suspect little nothing Peter. But everyone knew James was my brother. I was the obvious choice. The Death Eaters would come after me! Not Peter.

“And I could take care of myself. Peter was barely average.” He stopped and stared into nothing. Then he laughed. “Peter fooled us, he fooled us good.” He stared around wildly. “Peter! Where’s that rat Peter!” he said viciously.

He leaned against the bars and looked up at the Headmaster. “Peter was the leak. He had joined the Death Eaters months ago, not long after we graduated.”

He banged his head against the bars, again. “I gave their lives to old Voldie. I served them up on a platter.” He was barely standing up.

Amelia looked at him for a moment and then raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” she said.

He looked at her. “I’d swear on my life and magic that what I said was true, but,” he looked around the small cell he occupied glumly, “As you can see, I don’t have my wand.”

Then he abruptly lurched sideways, to stand in front of her. “Do you have veritaserum? I’d gladly take veritaserum.” He stuck out his tongue as if he expected her to pop a few drops on it right then. After a moment he closed his mouth and appeared disappointed.

“Amelia! How nice of you to stop by.” He stood straight. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you tea. How have you been?”

She turned to Jim. “I think we’ve seen enough,” she said. “Open the door.”

Albus gave the witch a significant look, and a nod. He had taken a good look into Sirius’ mind when the wizard was right in front of him. He had delved deep enough to determine that the wizard was telling the truth.

It wouldn’t hold up in court, in fact it couldn’t, given that he had acquired the information without the subject’s consent. But it had been enough for him. His student had been left to rot in a corrupt institution’s prison for ten years. He wouldn’t stay another day.

Jim looked horrified. He moved as fast as he could to open the cage’s door.

Seeing the door open, Sirius almost fell out into the corridor.

“Don’t try to walk,” Albus told him, “Let me carry you.” 

Getting out of the prison took far less time than getting in, even with manoeuvring a burden via the locomotor charm.

“This will set the wizarding world on fire,” murmured Rufus.

“Won’t it just,” said Amelia.

Rufus shook his head sadly. “Who would have thought such a mistake could be made?”

“And it makes me wonder what happened to Peter Pettigrew? After all, if Sirius didn’t cast that exploding hex, who did?”

They spent the rest of the trip back in silence. Except Black, who alternated between disjointed babbling and weeping. Twilight kept most of her attention on Sirius, casting warming charms and cleaning charms. And assuring the wizard that Harry was happy, that she was taking care of him, and that he could see the boy as soon as he had recovered enough.

When they floo-d back into the auror offices, Rufus called in several aurors from their assignments. At the same time, Amelia called in several healers from St. Mungo’s. Rufus assigned his people to keep watch on Sirius while the healers did what they could to restore the wizard’s health and sanity.

While they were working, Amelia took advantage of the veritaserum stocks. With the healers and aurors at her side, she took Sirius at his word, and had him repeat his testimony in front of witnesses. 

The news that Peter had blown up the street before Sirius could curse him, that he blew apart the street with a wand behind his back, was earth-shattering for them. That Peter also killed everyone within twenty feet of himself and sped down into the sewer as a rat just added to their dismay.

She then repeated the testing of the wand in front of the same witnesses.

By the time they had heard and seen the evidence, the ministry workers were more than horrified. They could not imagine how an innocent wizard had ended up in Azkaban for ten years without a trial and no substantial evidence. It broke virtually every procedure and rule the aurors followed.

“There is a Wizengamot meeting on Monday,” Dumbledore said. He looked over at Amelia. “After I open the session and before we begin regular business, I shall call for the immediate trial of Sirius Black, seeing as he never received one ten years ago.” 

She nodded her understanding. “And if anyone objects?”

“Then I shall say he has waited ten years for charges to be placed when the law mandates the arrested person must be charged within a reasonable time of the arrest, not more than a month after the arrest is made. If they still refuse to give him a trial, I shall tell them I have no recourse but to dismiss the case with prejudice. Which the law requires if charges are not brought within that time period.”

She nodded in understanding. “And if they say it was all legal under the War Powers Act pushed through by Minister for Magic Bagnold and Department Head Barty Crouch?”

He smiled pleasantly. “Then remind them that if they let this stand and don’t give Sirius Black a trial, then they are setting a precedent for the Ministry to arrest any person, at random, at a crime scene, regardless of blood status, and throw them in Azkaban, without recourse by the arrested person or their family to protest. All the Ministry would have to do is say there is a crisis.”

Amelia grimly smiled back. “That should get them moving.”

She conducted the two to the elevator, then stormed into her office. As she had told them, she began laying out how the case on Monday would be presented. And began issuing written orders that would be on their targets’ desks come Monday morning.

Plus, Amelia ordered a review of the record of every prisoner in Azkaban. She did not, as she had said, want there to be any other “forgotten” innocents in prison while she was in charge!


۸-_-۸