The Emergency Wizengamot Session
The emergency session of the Wizengamot looked like someone had taken the concept of "dignified legal proceedings" and fed it through a blender operated by someone having a nervous breakdown about governmental accountability.
The ancient chamber, normally a bastion of measured deliberation and careful protocol, buzzed with the kind of barely controlled chaos that suggested everyone present had read the morning newspapers and was trying to figure out how to respond to systematic institutional failure without admitting they'd been complicit in ignoring obvious injustices for over a decade.
Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore sat in his ceremonial chair looking like he'd aged approximately seventeen years overnight. His usual grandfatherly twinkle had been replaced by the expression of someone who'd just realized that strategic maneuvering and good intentions weren't adequate substitutes for actually protecting children from systematic abuse. His long fingers drummed against the armrest of his chair with uncharacteristic agitation.
"Cornelius," he murmured to the Minister sitting rigidly beside him, "I fear we are about to discover that our careful maintenance of the status quo has been built upon rather more sand than stone."
Minister Fudge shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his bowler hat slightly askew and his usual pompous confidence replaced by the sweaty nervousness of someone who could hear his political career dying in real time. "Albus, surely this is all just... administrative irregularities. Nothing that can't be managed with proper... management."
"I rather suspect," Dumbledore replied with the weary tone of someone who'd spent the night reading very disturbing reports, "that we are well beyond the realm of management, my dear Minister."
The gallery was packed with reporters, concerned citizens, and what appeared to be representatives from several international magical governments who'd come to observe British justice in action and possibly take notes about how not to handle systematic governmental crises.
Rita Skeeter sat in the front row of the press section, her emerald quill practically vibrating with anticipation above a scroll of parchment. "This," she whispered to the photographer beside her, "is going to be the story that makes careers. Or destroys them. Possibly both."
"This emergency session of the Wizengamot," Dumbledore announced, his voice carrying the weight of someone who'd just realized his carefully maintained authority was about to be systematically dismantled by truth and really excellent legal representation, "has been called to address serious allegations regarding the cases of Sirius Black, Bellatrix Lestrange, and... other matters of governmental concern that require immediate attention and comprehensive review."
His pale blue eyes swept the chamber behind his half-moon spectacles, taking in the faces of Wizengamot members who were beginning to understand that this wasn't going to be a routine session of bureaucratic maneuvering.
Ted Tonks stood at the presenter's podium with the confidence of someone who'd spent months preparing for this exact moment and was really looking forward to systematically destroying every argument the opposition might attempt. His auburn hair was neatly styled, his robes were cut in a modern style that suggested both professionalism and subtle rebellion against traditional pure-blood aesthetics, and his blue eyes held the sharp intelligence of someone who'd built his career on being underestimated by opponents who assumed his Muggle heritage made him less formidable.
"Chief Warlock," Ted said, his Scottish accent lending additional authority to words that were about to fundamentally restructure wizarding legal precedent, "I appear today representing Sirius Black, wrongfully imprisoned for over nine years without trial, and Harry Potter, systematically abused while under supposedly protective custody, in a case that demonstrates systematic failures at every level of our magical government."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the assembled Wizengamot members with the kind of theatrical timing that would have made courtroom dramatists weep with envy. "And I must say, it's been quite the education reviewing the documentation of how spectacularly wrong supposedly intelligent people can be when they decide assumptions are more convenient than actual investigation."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber like water finding cracks in a dam that was about to catastrophically fail. Several Wizengamot members who'd been comfortable assuming these were administrative irregularities rather than systematic corruption were beginning to realize they might have significantly underestimated the scope of the problem.
"Before we begin," came a smooth voice from the defendant's section, carrying the kind of aristocratic authority that suggested centuries of breeding specifically designed to make other people feel inadequate, "I must raise a procedural objection."
Lucius Malfoy stood with the kind of aristocratic poise that suggested he'd been born specifically to make other people feel inadequate about their posture, their fashion choices, and their general approach to existing in public spaces. His platinum hair was arranged with supernatural precision, his robes probably cost more than most wizards earned in several years, and his walking stick was definitely designed to make people understand that he took himself very seriously and had the resources to back up that attitude.
"The accused," Malfoy continued, his voice carrying the authority of someone who'd spent years learning to make reasonable objections sound like pronouncements from on high, "is not present in this chamber. How can we conduct legal proceedings regarding Sirius Black when the defendant himself is not available to face these charges or respond to allegations that may or may not be accurate?"
His gray eyes fixed on Ted with the kind of dismissive stare that had been perfected over generations of Malfoy interactions with people they considered socially inferior. "Surely even... newer additions to our legal community understand basic procedural requirements."
Ted's smile could have powered the Hogwarts Express for a month. "Oh, Lucius—may I call you Lucius? I feel like we're going to become quite well acquainted over the coming months—that's beautifully stated. Absolutely correct. Can't conduct proper proceedings without the accused present."
He paused for dramatic effect, his blue eyes twinkling with the kind of mischief that suggested he'd been waiting for exactly this objection and had prepared a response that was going to be both legally devastating and dramatically satisfying.
"Actually," Ted continued, his Scottish accent becoming more pronounced as he warmed to his theme, "my client is present and prepared to testify on his own behalf. Along with several other individuals whose testimony is going to make this session considerably more interesting than anyone anticipated."
Lucius's perfectly composed expression flickered slightly, like a mask that had been adjusted by someone with trembling hands. "Impossible. Sirius Black is in Azkaban."
"Was in Azkaban," Ted corrected with the satisfaction of someone who'd just played a particularly brilliant chess move. "Past tense. Amazing what proper legal representation can accomplish when combined with actual evidence and international pressure from governments that take a dim view of systematic human rights violations."
The great doors at the back of the chamber opened with the kind of dramatic timing that suggested someone had been waiting for exactly the right moment to make an entrance that would be remembered in legal history for decades.
Sirius Black walked into the Wizengamot chamber like he owned the place, which, given his family's historical influence on magical government, he practically did. Nine years in Azkaban had left him gaunt but had somehow concentrated his natural charisma into something that made people remember why the Black family had been both feared and admired for centuries.
He was tall—intimidatingly tall—with the kind of broad shoulders and confident stride that suggested he'd learned to make even prison experience look effortless. His dark hair had been cut and styled with obvious care, his beard neatly trimmed, and his storm-gray eyes held the kind of controlled fury that suggested he'd spent those nine years thinking about exactly what he wanted to say to the people responsible for his wrongful imprisonment.
"Chief Warlock," Sirius said, his voice carrying the aristocratic drawl of expensive education mixed with the rough edge of someone who'd survived hell and come back stronger, "members of the Wizengamot, distinguished guests. I do hope you'll forgive my prolonged absence from your deliberations. I've been somewhat... detained."
His smile was sharp enough to cut glass and probably twice as dangerous. "But I'm here now, and I have quite a few things to say about the quality of British justice and the fascinating creative interpretations of 'due process' that have been employed in my case."
Behind him walked Bellatrix Black—because Ted had been very strategic about using her maiden name in all legal documentation—looking nothing like the wild-eyed madwoman from her trial photographs. Her dark hair was arranged in a sophisticated chignon that emphasized her elegant bone structure, her robes were cut in a style that suggested both respectability and quiet strength, and she carried herself with the dignified bearing of someone who'd survived fifteen years of magical enslavement and nine years of wrongful imprisonment and was finally getting the chance to tell the truth.
Her dark eyes swept the chamber with the kind of controlled intensity that suggested she was cataloguing faces and making mental notes about who had been complicit in her systematic oppression. When her gaze fixed on certain members of the Wizengamot, several of them shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
"Bellatrix," she said quietly, her voice carrying the precise articulation of expensive education mixed with the steel of someone who'd endured years of systematic abuse and was done being silent about it. "My name is Bellatrix Black. It has always been Bellatrix Black. The name I was forced to use during my enslavement is not, and has never been, my actual identity."
The gasps and murmurs from the gallery suggested that most people had expected to see dangerous criminals, not two individuals who looked like they'd suffered systematic injustice and were prepared to seek remedy through proper legal channels.
"Sirius Black," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying the weight of someone who'd just been confronted with the living embodiment of his systematic failures, "and Bellatrix... Lestrange."
"Actually, Chief Warlock," Ted interjected with the kind of polite correction that suggested he was about to explain something that would make everyone very uncomfortable, "that's precisely one of the legal issues we're here to address today."
He gestured toward Bellatrix with the respectful acknowledgment of someone who understood that she'd been systematically denied basic recognition of her identity for decades. "My client's legal name is Bellatrix Black. The surname 'Lestrange' was imposed through a marriage contract that included provisions for magical enslavement and has been legally nullified through the death of the contracting party and the voiding of all associated magical bindings."
Amelia Bones leaned forward in her seat with the focused attention of someone whose law enforcement instincts were telling her that this case was about to reveal systematic crimes that had been ignored for generations. Her red hair was pulled back in a severe bun, but her green eyes held the kind of sharp intelligence that had made her one of the most respected figures in magical law enforcement.
"Magical enslavement," she said carefully, her voice carrying the controlled tone of someone who was beginning to understand that this case was going to require her to investigate practices she'd never imagined were still occurring in their supposedly civilized society. "In marriage contracts. That's... that would be illegal."
"Would be," Ted agreed with the grimness of someone who'd spent months documenting systematic legal violations. "Should be. Apparently hasn't been, despite numerous international treaties prohibiting exactly these practices."
"The woman is a convicted Death Eater," came a voice from the Wizengamot benches, carrying the kind of certainty that suggested someone who'd never questioned the accuracy of previous legal proceedings and was beginning to realize they might need to start.
Bellatrix's dark eyes fixed on the speaker with the kind of controlled fury that suggested she'd been waiting fifteen years to address exactly this assumption. When she spoke, her voice carried the precise diction of aristocratic education mixed with the quiet strength of someone who'd survived systematic oppression and was finally getting the chance to defend herself.
"The woman," she said, each word carefully articulated with the kind of emphasis that made it clear she was very tired of being discussed in the third person, "was magically enslaved through blood magic enforced by marriage contract and was literally incapable of disobeying any command given by her husband or his associates."
Her voice remained perfectly controlled, but her hands clenched slightly at her sides as she continued. "The woman was bound by magic so powerful that resistance was not only impossible, but the attempt to even think rebellious thoughts would cause physical agony that increased until compliance was achieved."
Minister Fudge looked like someone had just explained that his entire understanding of magical law had been fundamentally incorrect for his entire career. His pudgy face had gone pale, and he was unconsciously loosening his tie as if the chamber had suddenly become uncomfortably warm.
"That's... that's not possible," he said, his voice carrying the desperate tone of someone who really needed this to not be true because the political implications were going to be catastrophic for his administration. "Marriage contracts don't include provisions for magical compulsion. That would be... that would be slavery."
"Yes," Bellatrix said with the kind of quiet satisfaction that suggested she'd been waiting years for someone in authority to finally understand the obvious. "It would be. It was. For fifteen years of my life, I was legal property, magically compelled to obey any command, no matter how abhorrent, given by my owner or anyone he designated as having authority over me."
"With respect, Minister," Ted said, producing a document sealed with enough legal authentication to suggest it had been reviewed by every qualified expert in magical Britain, "pure-blood marriage contracts have included provisions for magical enslavement for centuries. We have comprehensive documentation of these practices, expert testimony from Gringotts regarding their legal enforcement, and medical evidence of the psychological and magical trauma resulting from decades of involuntary servitude."
He gestured to an aide, who began distributing copies of documents that were probably going to require therapy for everyone who read them and definitely weren't covered in any standard legal education.
"These contracts," Ted continued, his voice taking on the clinical tone that legal professionals use when discussing things that violate basic principles of human decency, "legally classified wives as property, required complete magical obedience to spousal commands, and included specific provisions for lending the enslaved individual's services to other members of their husband's political organization."
Lucius Malfoy's face had gone very pale, which was impressive considering his normally alabaster complexion and suggested he was beginning to understand that certain legal precedents were about to be established that would have immediate implications for his own marriage contract and possibly his general approach to family relations.
"Even if we accept these... extraordinary claims," Malfoy said, his voice carrying the careful tone of someone trying to find legal footing in a conversation that was systematically destroying everything he'd previously understood about magical law, "surely the matter of culpability during wartime—"
"Oh, please do continue that thought, Lucius," Sirius interrupted with the kind of dangerous smile that suggested he'd been waiting nine years for exactly this conversation. "I'm absolutely fascinated to hear your legal theories about personal responsibility during systematic enslavement. Do go on about culpability and wartime service. I have time."
His gray eyes fixed on Malfoy with the kind of predatory focus that reminded everyone present why the Black family had historically been considered both politically formidable and personally dangerous. "In fact, I have nine years worth of time to discuss exactly who bears responsibility for wartime atrocities and how magical compulsion affects legal culpability."
"Furthermore," Ted said, warming to his theme with the enthusiasm of someone who'd built an absolutely devastating case and was really looking forward to presenting it, "we need to address the rather glaring issue of my client Sirius Black's conviction and imprisonment."
He turned to face the assembled Wizengamot with the confidence of someone who was about to prove that their entire legal system had failed spectacularly and in ways that would require immediate and comprehensive reform.
"Sirius Black was imprisoned for the murder of twelve Muggles and Peter Pettigrew. He was found at the scene, covered in blood, laughing maniacally at the carnage he'd caused." Ted's voice took on a theatrical quality that suggested he was quoting directly from official reports that he found deeply problematic.
"Except," he continued, his Scottish accent becoming more pronounced as he built toward what was obviously going to be a dramatic revelation, "no one bothered to actually investigate whether the evidence supported these assumptions. No one conducted proper forensic analysis. No one even bothered to examine the most basic magical evidence that would have immediately proven or disproven guilt."
"The investigation was thorough," Fudge protested, though his voice carried the uncertain tone of someone who was beginning to suspect that his definition of 'thorough' might not align with actual investigative standards. "The scene was examined, evidence was collected—"
"Was it, though?" Sirius asked with the kind of conversational tone that suggested he was genuinely curious about the answer and probably already knew it was going to make everyone very uncomfortable. "Because I have to say, from my perspective as the person who was there, your 'thorough investigation' seemed to consist primarily of assuming guilt and then working backward to justify predetermined conclusions."
His smile became sharper, if such a thing were possible. "Not exactly what I'd call rigorous forensic methodology, but then again, I've only had nine years in Azkaban to think about proper investigative procedures."
Amelia Bones was taking very detailed notes with the focused attention of someone who was already planning the administrative reforms that would be necessary if this case revealed systematic failures in criminal investigation procedures. "Mr. Tonks," she said carefully, "what specific forensic evidence are you suggesting was overlooked?"
"Oh, I'm so glad you asked, Director Bones," Ted said with the satisfaction of someone who'd been waiting for exactly this question and had prepared an answer that was going to make everyone wish they'd asked it nine years earlier.
"I'd like to request Priori Incantatem on the wand that was confiscated from my client on the night in question."
The chamber went very still, which was somehow more alarming than if everyone had started screaming or demanding explanations. When an entire room full of lawyers and government officials goes completely quiet, it usually means someone has just suggested something that's going to change everything and probably make several people very uncomfortable about their previous assumptions.
"Priori Incantatem," Dumbledore repeated slowly, his voice carrying the weight of someone who'd just realized that a simple spell was about to reveal information that would either vindicate his decisions or demonstrate that he'd been catastrophically wrong about everything for over a decade.
"The spell that reveals the last magic cast by a specific wand," Ted confirmed, his voice carrying the authority of someone who'd done his magical law research and was prepared to prove his case through forensic magic that couldn't be disputed or explained away.
He paused, letting the implications sink in with the kind of theatrical timing that would have made dramatists weep with professional envy. "If Sirius Black cast the Blasting Curse that killed twelve Muggles, it will show in his wand's magical history. If he didn't..."
The pause stretched like a wire under tension, and Ted's blue eyes swept the chamber with the satisfaction of someone who was about to deliver the knockout blow in a very important fight.
"Then someone owes him nine years of his life back, along with explanations about why he was imprisoned without trial for crimes he didn't commit, while the actual perpetrator has been free to continue whatever damage he's been doing to our society."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber as Wizengamot members began to realize that they were about to witness either the vindication or the complete destruction of one of the most famous criminal cases in recent magical history. Either way, the implications for their justice system were going to be profound and probably very expensive.
"The wand," Amelia Bones said, her voice carrying the controlled professionalism of someone who was beginning to understand that this case was about to become the most important investigation of her career, "was it properly preserved as evidence?"
"Standard evidence protocols," confirmed the court clerk, consulting records that were probably about to become the most important documentation in British legal history. "Sealed and stored in the Department of Mysteries evidence vault immediately following arrest."
"Well, then," Sirius said with the kind of casual confidence that suggested he'd been waiting nine years for this exact moment and was really looking forward to systematic vindication, "I suppose we should have a look at what my wand has to say about the evening in question."
His gray eyes fixed on Lucius Malfoy with the kind of predatory anticipation that suggested he was looking forward to watching certain people's carefully constructed narratives collapse under the weight of actual evidence.
"Though I have to say, I'm curious to see how certain members of this august body plan to explain why basic forensic procedures were apparently too complicated for our justice system to manage."
"Bring it," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying the authority of someone who'd just realized that avoiding this revelation would only make everything worse when the truth inevitably came out anyway.
The wait while court officials retrieved Sirius's wand felt like the pause before a particularly large explosion. Everyone in the chamber understood that the next few minutes were going to either confirm a decade of legal decisions or reveal systematic failures that would require complete restructuring of their justice system.
Rita Skeeter's quill was practically smoking as she documented what was obviously going to be either the most spectacular vindication or the most catastrophic governmental failure in recent magical history. Either way, it was definitely going to sell a lot of newspapers.
When the wand was finally brought forward—a piece of evidence that had been sitting in storage for nine years while an innocent man rotted in Azkaban—Ted handled it with the careful precision of someone managing explosives that were necessary for justice but likely to cause spectacular damage to everyone in the immediate vicinity.
"For the record," Ted said, his voice carrying the formal tone required for legal proceedings that were about to make history, "I am about to perform Priori Incantatem on the wand confiscated from Sirius Black on the night of October 31st, 1981. This will reveal the last spells cast by this wand, in reverse chronological order."
He paused, his blue eyes sweeping the chamber with the kind of dramatic timing that suggested he'd practiced this moment in his mind hundreds of times and was really looking forward to systematically destroying every assumption the opposition had made about this case.
"If anyone has objections to this procedure, or concerns about the accuracy of magical forensic evidence, now would be the time to voice them."
The silence was deafening. Nobody wanted to be on record as objecting to basic forensic analysis, especially when the implications of that objection would be that they'd spent nine years supporting the imprisonment of an innocent man while avoiding simple procedures that would have proven his innocence.
"Priori Incantatem," Ted said clearly, his wand pointed at Sirius's with the focus of someone who'd built his entire case around this moment.
The magic activated with the kind of dramatic flair that suggested the universe had been waiting nine years for this particular revelation and was determined to make it as spectacular as possible.
Golden light erupted from Sirius's wand, forming ethereal images of the last spells it had cast. The chamber watched in complete silence as the magical history unfolded in reverse chronological order, each spell appearing as a ghostly recreation that couldn't be disputed, modified, or explained away.
The most recent magic was a Stunning Spell, cast during what appeared to be the arrest process. Before that, a Shield Charm. Then a Disarming Charm. Several defensive spells that suggested someone trying to protect themselves rather than attack others.
And then... nothing. No Blasting Curse. No offensive magic that could have killed twelve people. No evidence whatsoever that Sirius Black had cast the magic responsible for the massacre that had sent him to Azkaban for nine years of his life.
The silence that followed was the kind of profound quiet that usually preceded either complete governmental reform or systematic revolution, depending on how much patience people had for gradual change versus immediate justice.
"No Blasting Curse," Amelia Bones said slowly, her voice carrying the weight of someone who'd just watched forensic evidence destroy one of the most famous criminal convictions in recent history. "No offensive magic. No evidence that this wand was used to kill anyone."
"Which means," Ted said with the satisfaction of someone whose strategic gamble had just paid off in the most spectacular way possible, "that Sirius Black was convicted and imprisoned for crimes he didn't commit, based on assumptions rather than evidence, without trial or proper investigation."
He let that sink in for a moment, watching as the full implications dawned on faces throughout the chamber. "Nine years of imprisonment. Nine years of systematic torture by Dementors. Nine years stolen from an innocent man's life because apparently no one in our justice system could be bothered to perform basic forensic analysis before destroying someone's existence."
"The real perpetrator," Sirius said, speaking with the kind of controlled fury that suggested he'd been rehearsing this moment for nearly a decade, "was Peter Pettigrew. Who faked his own death, framed me for mass murder, and has been living as an unregistered Animagus for over a decade while I rotted in Azkaban for his crimes."
His gray eyes swept the chamber with the kind of predatory satisfaction that suggested he'd been looking forward to this revelation almost as much as his release from prison. "Though I have to say, I'm curious about how our supposedly competent authorities plan to explain why they never investigated the rather convenient timing of Peter's 'death' immediately after the Potter murders."
"Peter Pettigrew is dead," Lucius Malfoy said quickly, his voice carrying the kind of certainty that suggested someone trying to maintain a narrative that was rapidly falling apart under scrutiny. "His remains were recovered from the scene."
"A finger," Ted corrected with clinical precision that suggested he'd examined the evidence more thoroughly than anyone had in 1981. "One finger, which could easily be self-inflicted by someone attempting to fake their death and frame an innocent man for mass murder. Hardly conclusive evidence of death for someone with access to dark magic and creative approaches to evidence manipulation."
Bellatrix spoke for the first time since her identity declaration, her voice carrying the kind of quiet authority that suggested she had information that was going to make this revelation even more damaging to the reputations of everyone who'd been complicit in these failures.
"Peter Pettigrew," she said, her dark eyes fixed on Lucius with the kind of focused intensity that suggested she knew exactly where this was going and was looking forward to watching him realize it, "was present at numerous Death Eater meetings during the war. Not as a prisoner. Not under compulsion. As a willing participant and eager collaborator."
Her smile was sharp enough to cut diamond and probably twice as dangerous. "I was there, Lucius. I saw him. I heard him volunteer information about Order operations, suggest targets for attack, and laugh about the success of his infiltration."
"She's lying," Malfoy said, but his voice carried the desperate tone of someone who knew his argument was collapsing but couldn't figure out how to stop it.
"Is she?" Sirius asked with conversational interest that suggested he was genuinely curious about Lucius's reasoning. "Because that would be rather difficult to prove, wouldn't it? Especially since her testimony is corroborated by Veritaserum-verified statements that she's provided to international magical law enforcement."
His smile became positively wolfish. "You know, Lucius, international magical law enforcement. The people who take a very dim view of governments that practice systematic slavery and wrongful imprisonment. They've been quite interested in British magical law recently."
Ted was practically glowing with professional satisfaction as he produced another set of documents that were probably going to make several people very uncomfortable about their past decisions and future legal prospects.
"Furthermore," Ted continued, his voice taking on the rhythm of someone who was building toward a crescendo of evidence that would be impossible to dispute or ignore, "we have evidence that Peter Pettigrew was the actual Secret Keeper for the Potter family, not Sirius Black as was assumed. Evidence that was available at the time but never investigated because authorities assumed guilt rather than conducting proper inquiries."
The documents he distributed looked official enough to restructure international magical law and probably were going to do exactly that. Dumbledore's hands shook slightly as he reached for the papers that were going to prove that every major decision he'd made regarding Harry Potter's welfare had been based on assumptions rather than facts.
"Copy of the Potter will," Ted announced with the satisfaction of someone who'd found the smoking gun and was really looking forward to showing it to everyone, "sealed by this very body but never examined during the investigation, clearly naming Peter Pettigrew as Secret Keeper for the Fidelius Charm protecting their home."
He paused for dramatic effect, his blue eyes twinkling with the kind of mischief that suggested he was having the time of his life systematically destroying governmental competence.
"Testimony from Gringotts confirming that this change was made officially and with proper documentation eight days before the Potter murders. All of this information was available in 1981. None of it was examined before destroying two lives and traumatizing a child."
Dumbledore looked like someone had just explained that his entire legacy was built on systematic failure and willful ignorance. His usually piercing blue eyes were clouded with the kind of stunned realization that suggested he was beginning to understand the full scope of his errors.
"The Secret Keeper was changed," he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of someone who'd just realized that his careful plans had been built on fundamentally incorrect information. "Peter Pettigrew. Not Sirius."
"Which means," Augusta Longbottom said with the authority of someone who'd just connected all the dots and didn't like the picture they created, "that we've had an innocent man in Azkaban for nine years while the real traitor has been free to continue whatever damage he's been doing to our society."
Her voice was carrying the kind of controlled outrage that suggested she was already planning the strongly worded letters she was going to send to various government officials about their spectacular incompetence.
"And," added Amelia Bones, her voice taking on the tone of someone who was already planning the administrative nightmare that was going to be required to address systematic justice system failure, "we've been systematically ignoring evidence that would have prevented this miscarriage of justice if anyone had bothered to conduct proper investigations instead of accepting convenient assumptions."
The chamber erupted in conversations as Wizengamot members began to grasp the full implications of what they'd just witnessed. This wasn't just one wrongful conviction—it was evidence of systematic failure at every level of their legal system, combined with practices that violated international magical law and basic human rights.
Minister Fudge looked like someone whose political career was currently being consumed by revelations of governmental incompetence and was trying to figure out if there was any way to salvage his reputation from the wreckage of systematic failure.
"What," he asked, his voice carrying the desperate tone of someone who needed to know how much this was going to cost politically and financially, "do you want from this body?"
Ted's smile could have powered the entire Ministry for a week. "Oh, Minister, I'm so glad you asked. We have quite a comprehensive list of demands—excuse me, requests for justice and reform."
He began counting off on his fingers like someone who'd planned this moment for months and was really looking forward to systematic governmental reform that would prevent these failures from happening again.
"Complete exoneration for Sirius Black, with public acknowledgment that he was wrongfully convicted and imprisoned without trial. Full restoration of his legal rights, family titles, and property, with compensation for nine years of systematic torture and lost income."
"Comprehensive investigation into the failures that led to his wrongful imprisonment, including review of every case handled by the officials responsible for this travesty of justice."
His voice took on additional authority as he outlined systematic reform that was going to fundamentally restructure pure-blood family law and probably make several prominent families very uncomfortable about their traditional practices.
"Complete nullification of all marriage contracts that include magical enslavement provisions, with immediate investigation into any families currently practicing systematic abuse through legal slavery."
"Comprehensive reform of child protection laws to ensure that no other child suffers systematic abuse while supposedly under governmental protection, including oversight of all current guardianship arrangements."
Bellatrix spoke again, her voice carrying the quiet intensity of someone who'd survived fifteen years of slavery and nine years of wrongful imprisonment and was finally getting the chance to seek systematic justice.
"And prosecution of everyone who was complicit in maintaining these systems through willful ignorance, active participation, or simple failure to perform their legal and moral obligations."
Her dark eyes swept the chamber with the kind of focused determination that suggested she was looking forward to systematic reform and wasn't particularly concerned about whose careers or reputations were going to be destroyed in the process.
"Including," she continued with the satisfaction of someone who'd been planning this moment for years, "investigation into every marriage contract that includes enslavement provisions, and prosecution of every individual who has participated in systematic abuse through legal slavery."
"And Peter Pettigrew?" asked Amelia Bones, though her tone suggested she already knew this was going to be complicated and probably involve international cooperation.
"Will be found and brought to justice for his actual crimes," Sirius said with the kind of quiet menace that suggested he'd spent nine years planning exactly what he wanted to do to the man who'd destroyed his life and betrayed his best friends.
"Along with anyone else who's been complicit in maintaining these injustices through willful ignorance, systematic cover-ups, or simple failure to do their jobs properly."
His gray eyes fixed on various members of the Wizengamot with the kind of predatory focus that suggested he was making mental notes about who had been supportive of reform and who was going to require additional persuasion.
"And I have to say, I'm particularly looking forward to the conversations we're going to have with anyone who attempts to resist these obviously necessary reforms."
In the gallery, Rita Skeeter's quill was moving so fast it was practically smoking as she documented what was probably going to be the most important legal session in wizarding history and definitely the biggest story of her career. The international observers were taking very detailed notes that were probably going to result in some very uncomfortable diplomatic conversations about British magical law and its compliance with international standards.
The Wizengamot members looked around at each other with the expression of people who'd just realized they were going to have to choose between systematic governmental reform and explaining to their constituents why they'd been complicit in maintaining obvious injustices for over a decade.
"All in favor," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying the weight of someone who'd just realized that acknowledging these failures was the only path to redemption that didn't involve complete loss of credibility and possibly international sanctions, "of full exoneration and restoration of rights for Sirius Black?"
The vote was unanimous, which was probably the first time in Wizengamot history that everyone had agreed on anything without extensive debate and political maneuvering. When your systematic failures had been documented by international media and were being observed by representatives from other magical governments, political self-preservation required immediate acknowledgment of obvious injustices.
"All in favor of comprehensive reform of marriage contract law to eliminate magical enslavement provisions?"
Another unanimous vote, accompanied by what sounded suspiciously like relieved applause from the gallery, where concerned citizens had just watched their government finally acknowledge systematic human rights violations and commit to ensuring they never happened again.
"And child protection reform with systematic oversight of all current arrangements?"
The final unanimous vote was accompanied by genuine applause from the gallery, where people who'd been worried about governmental competence had just watched systematic reform achieved through proper legal channels and actual evidence.
As the session concluded with promises of immediate reform and comprehensive investigations, Ted gathered his documents with the satisfaction of someone who'd just won the most important case of his career and fundamentally restructured wizarding society in the process.
"Well," Sirius said, his voice carrying the satisfaction of someone who'd just been vindicated after nine years of wrongful imprisonment, "that went better than I expected."
"It's not over," Ted replied, his legal mind already working through the implications of what they'd accomplished and what still needed to be done. "This was just the first step. Real reform is going to require ongoing effort and probably some very creative applications of pressure on people who resist change."
"Good thing we have allies who specialize in creative pressure applications," Sirius said with the kind of smile that suggested he was looking forward to the next phase of their systematic justice campaign.
As they left the Wizengamot chamber, surrounded by reporters and cheering citizens who'd just watched systematic reform achieved through proper legal channels, they knew that their work was far from over. But they'd proven that truth, justice, and really excellent legal representation could overcome systematic oppression and governmental incompetence.
And if certain people continued to resist reform, well, they had cosmic allies who were really looking forward to providing educational experiences about proper ethics and the inadvisability of treating people like property.
The revolution was just getting started.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord (HHHwRsB6wd) server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Can't wait to see you there!