The Great Hall buzzed with the usual morning chatter—clinking cutlery, rustling parchment, owls swooping overhead. But as dozens of tawny and grey birds began dropping The Daily Prophet along the long House tables, the noise shifted into murmurs.
Harry, seated between Ron and Hermione, barely glanced up when a familiar owl dropped the paper in front of him. But the bold headline across the front page made his breath catch:
BREAKING: Sirius Black Declared Innocent — Ministry Confirms Grave Error
By Barnabas Cuffe, Editor-in-Chief
Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, issued an urgent press release this morning confirming that Sirius Orion Black, long believed to be a mass murderer and Death Eater, has been cleared of all charges.
"In light of newly surfaced evidence and the direct testimony of several credible witnesses," the statement reads, "it is now unequivocally clear that Sirius Black was wrongly imprisoned for crimes committed by another — the fugitive Peter Pettigrew, believed dead until recently."
The article goes on to detail that Pettigrew, an unregistered Animagus, faked his death and framed Black, resulting in twelve years of wrongful imprisonment in Azkaban.
Fudge's statement continued:
"It is a tragedy of immense scale that Mr. Black suffered so long for crimes he did not commit. The Ministry, under the prior administration, failed in its duty to seek the truth, and I—Cornelius Oswald Fudge—intend to make amends. I offer Mr. Black not only a formal pardon, but also compensation, and a full public apology on behalf of the Ministry."
The article confirmed that Pettigrew has been taken into custody, and a formal Wizengamot trial will be today.
As whispers flew across the hall like sparks, Harry's eyes met those of Hermione and Ron.
"He's really free," Harry whispered.
Hermione blinked, wide-eyed. "And the whole world knows it now."
A little further down the Gryffindor table, the Weasley twins were already reading excerpts aloud in scandalized tones:
"'Grave injustice,'" Fred read dramatically.
"'Unprecedented negligence of magical law,'" George added, with a mock gasp.
Then both in unison: "Wonder what old Barty Crouch thinks of that."
Even Malfoy was silent for once, hunched over the paper with a furrowed brow and tight jaw.
Harry barely tasted his breakfast. Relief bloomed in his chest—real and warm.
The moment breakfast ended, Harry rose from the table, ignoring the murmurs still buzzing around the Hall. He needed Sirius to see that headline. To know.
By the time he reached the hospital wing, the corridor was quiet and golden with morning light. He knocked once, then stepped inside.
Sirius was awake, propped up in bed, hair still tangled and face pale, but looking far more alive than Harry had ever seen him. Madam Pomfrey was fussing nearby, muttering something about "physical depletion and utter recklessness."
Sirius looked up—and smiled.
"Morning, pup."
Harry held up the folded Daily Prophet, the headline glaring across the front like a beacon. "You might want to see this."
Sirius took it, his eyes scanning the front page. As he read, the smile fell from his face—not in disappointment, but something softer. More stunned. His fingers trembled faintly where they clutched the paper.
"They… they actually printed it," he murmured.
"They had to," Harry said. "You're free, Sirius. It's official."
Sirius blinked rapidly, then gave a quiet laugh—half choked, half disbelieving. "I didn't think I'd live to see this."
Before Harry could reply, the door opened behind him.
Professor Dumbledore stepped inside, robes a deep midnight blue, his expression unreadable but kind. "I see the Prophet has already made its way here," he said gently.
Sirius lowered the paper. "Bit surreal, reading your own redemption in the news."
Dumbledore inclined his head. "Today is a day of truth, Sirius. And it's time we bring it fully into the light."
Harry straightened. "The trial?"
"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "The Wizengamot has convened an emergency session. Pettigrew is being held under heavy guard. You," he said, turning to Sirius, "are the most crucial witness in this matter. And Harry…" he gave the boy a small, meaningful smile, "…you were the one who unmasked him. Your presence will be equally vital."
Harry nodded, already resolute.
Dumbledore's eyes softened. "The Weasleys will also be present. Pettigrew spent twelve years in their home, masquerading as a pet. They deserve the truth as much as anyone."
At that, Sirius's mouth twisted into something between sympathy and disgust. "Twelve years. Sleeping beside him, feeding him scraps. If I were Molly Weasley, I'd hex him into next week."
"Justice first," Dumbledore said calmly. "Then vengeance, if it must follow."
Sirius exhaled and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Then let's get on with it. I've waited long enough to speak."
Madam Pomfrey swooped in at once. "You're not going anywhere until I clear you—"
"He's well enough," Dumbledore said gently, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. "And he won't be alone."
The mediwitch huffed, but relented. "Just… no dueling in the courtroom, Black. I mean it."
Sirius gave her a cheeky salute.
As Harry and Sirius followed Dumbledore out into the sunlit corridor.
The journey through the Floo Network was mercifully short. One moment Harry was stepping into the green flames with Sirius beside him and Dumbledore just behind, and the next, he stumbled out into the wide, golden Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.
Even early in the day, the Ministry was buzzing with activity—but nothing could have prepared them for the crowd that awaited.
A wall of reporters stood just beyond the Floo grates, quills floating mid-air, cameras flashing with magical pops. The moment they saw Sirius Black, cloaked and walking freely beside Albus Dumbledore, the hall erupted into a chorus of shouts.
"Mr. Black! Do you have a statement—?"
"Are you planning to sue the Ministry for damages?"
"Was You-Know-Who involved in your imprisonment?"
"Young Mr. Potter! Is it true you discovered Peter Pettigrew yourself?"
Harry instinctively brandished his wand and stepped closer to Sirius, whose jaw had tightened—not in fear, but raw distaste. Dumbledore, however, only raised a hand.
The crowd quieted instantly.
"I ask that you respect both the privacy and the importance of this proceeding," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying effortlessly through the space. "There will be time for questions. But now, we have a trial to attend to."
The reporters parted, albeit reluctantly, letting them pass.
Near the far corridor, two figures emerged from a side lift—one tall and hunched, wearing a battered dark coat and magical eye whirring furiously. The other was a young woman with a bubblegum-pink crop of hair and a crooked smile.
"Wotcher, Professor," said Tonks with a salute. Then her eyes flicked to Sirius. "And you must be the infamous cousin."
Sirius blinked, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. "You look vaguely familiar."
"That's probably the Black in me," she said with a grin. "Andromeda Tonks is my mum."
Sirius stared, then broke into a wide, stunned smile. "Andromeda's daughter? You're Nymphadora?"
"Don't call me that," she said automatically, but without bite.
Sirius laughed—a light, real laugh that surprised even himself. "Merlin's beard. I never thought I'd see family again and be glad about it."
Tonks softened. "You're not the only one who's been waiting, you know."
"Come on," growled Moody, his magical eye swiveling to the side corridor. "Courtroom Ten. Press is banned, but the place'll still be crawling with Ministry worms."
As they neared the entrance to the courtroom floor, a familiar voice called out, "Harry!"
Arthur and Molly Weasley stood nearby, dressed in their best wizarding robes—Arthur looking somber, Molly already misty-eyed. Before Harry could brace himself, Molly surged forward and pulled him into a hug that was all warmth.
"Oh, Harry, dear," she said, her voice thick. "I'm so glad you're alright. So proud of you."
Harry stiffened slightly. Physical affection still felt strange to him—unfamiliar and uncomfortable, partly because of Harry's childhood and partly because of the remnants of Tom's influence that lingered in his mind. But he didn't resist. He let her hug him, knowing it came from care and love, not obligation.
Then Molly turned to Sirius, her expression unreadable for a beat. But she extended a hand.
"Mr. Black."
Sirius took it, surprised. "Please. Sirius."
She nodded once. "Let's see justice done."
Together, they stepped through the large doors of Courtroom Ten.
It was the same cavernous chamber Harry remembered from the books: the walls made of dark stone that absorbed light rather than reflected it. The room was vast and oppressive, the ceiling high and shadowed. Wooden benches rose in steep tiers on all sides, filled with witches and wizards in plum-colored robes—the Wizengamot.
At the highest dais sat Albus Dumbledore—as Chief Warlock, his face composed, expression sharp.
Harry was led to a simple seat just beside the witness stand, close to Sirius and behind Molly and Arthur Weasley, who sat side by side, their expressions tense.
Torches flickered along the walls, their flames unmoving despite the still air. Every sound—footsteps, shifting robes, a throat clearing—seemed amplified in the stone chamber.
Sirius looked straight ahead, his posture calm but alert, his eyes glittering under the torchlight. No longer the hunted, but the wronged.
Harry exhaled slowly. This is it.