[One cannot help but feel puzzled. We all know Azkaban is a hellish place, an environment no sane person would ever choose to live in, let alone be imprisoned there for twelve long years.]
[Yet, for twelve years—twelve whole years—Sirius Black kept his silence, never revealing the truth of the matter. Could he have been enjoying the torment of Azkaban's cells? That seems utterly illogical.]
[...Suddenly, it dawned on the writer that there might be another possibility. Could this be a form of atonement? According to James, it was Sirius who suggested changing the Secret-Keeper. In other words, if they had stuck to the original plan with Sirius as the Secret-Keeper, the Potters' address would never have been exposed, and You-Know-Who would never have found them...]
[...Everything starts to make sense. We all know the deep bond shared among the four Marauders. Well, perhaps one of them wasn't as steadfast, but it's now clear that Sirius and James shared a profound connection...]
[...So it all stems from guilt. He couldn't bear the reality that his closest friend and his family died because of his idea. Thus, he sought to punish himself... Imagine a person in despair...]
Rita suddenly turned sentimental, painting Sirius Black's emotions with vivid empathy. Her writing was florid, deeply moving, and this was her forte—she wasn't even lying. What she wrote came directly from the thoughts Sirius had shared with Harry, as Harry had relayed to her.
However, Rita carefully avoided revealing Harry's role in this narrative or mentioning that these insights came from Harry's visit to Azkaban, where he had spoken with Sirius.
[...In any case, the writer firmly believes Sirius Black's case deserves a retrial—a proper, lawful, and just hearing. We must not allow a righteous soul to suffer in darkness. That is the nobility of our humanity, the essence of our hearts...]
[...As the writer sees it, even though this case is many years old, reopening it would not be difficult. The words spoken by the soul of the late hero, James Potter, would be the best evidence...]
[...Sirius Black would likely not refuse this chance to prove himself. A dose of Veritaserum would reveal the truth... As long as he remembers that out there, a child who lost his parents is growing up alone—his godson, Harry Potter...]
Rita's words were profoundly emotional, tugging at the heartstrings. Middle-aged witches, in particular, couldn't resist such prose. The mere thought of an orphaned boy, raised by relatives, with his godfather imprisoned to atone for his mistakes, brought unstoppable tears to their eyes.
As for Harry... he found this part a bit awkward to read, so he skipped it, moving straight to the section where Rita lambasted the Ministry of Magic.
[Yes, we must acknowledge that during those dark times twelve years ago, facing You-Know-Who and his followers' brutal tactics, we had to respond with equally harsh measures to secure victory. Back then, Aurors were even permitted to use Dark Magic, including the Unforgivable Curses. Similarly, Bartemius Crouch, then head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, wielded immense authority during the war.]
[Not only was he ruthless during the war, but when he believed evidence was conclusive, he could send someone to Azkaban without hesitation—just like Sirius Black.]
[Yes, the writer still acknowledges that in those dark wartime days, such measures were necessary because Death Eaters were exceedingly cunning. But we must also admit that such methods inevitably led to some wrongful convictions.]
[In the chaotic aftermath of the war, we might have overlooked these individuals. But now that the war is long over, why not revisit these cases?]
[Cases without trials, without investigated evidence, without even the verification of Veritaserum—why not reexamine them? We should neither let a single guilty person escape nor wrong an innocent one. That is the Ministry of Magic we want to see, the Ministry it ought to be.]
[...Undoubtedly, in this matter, Bartemius Crouch failed in his duties...]
Closing the newspaper, Harry had seen everything he wanted from today's issue. Rita had done well, sticking to the plan without adding her own flourishes.
Now, he just needed to wait for things to unfold.
Dumbledore must have done something.
Harry waited three days, but there was no public declaration from the Ministry branding him a dark wizard studying soul magic, nor any statement from the Wizengamot, the highest authority in the British wizarding world.
It was a carnival for Rita and the Daily Prophet. Truth be told, when they published that day's paper, they were fully prepared for pressure or threats from the Ministry. Yet, they still ran Rita's article.
No journalist worth their salt would pass up a chance for a big scoop.
After bracing themselves in the office for an entire day, expecting Aurors to burst in and arrest them all, the Daily Prophet's editor-in-chief finally breathed a sigh of relief when no such thing happened.
And then?
Then, of course, they doubled down.
From a journalist's long-term perspective, releasing three major stories that could dominate headlines for weeks was a waste in one go. But they had feared Ministry interference. Since the Ministry wasn't stopping them, the next step was follow-up coverage.
Ancestral magic, the question of whether Muggles using shamanic spells still counted as Muggles, whether Squibs still counted as Squibs, and the call to retry Sirius Black's case...
It was quite the spectacle.
Even at Hogwarts, far removed from wizarding society, things grew lively. Students buzzed with excitement over the newspaper articles. Honestly, with their limited experience and perspective, they wouldn't have grasped the deeper implications of what they'd witnessed if not for these reports. To them, it was just novel and exciting.
Those who hadn't connected with an earth elemental were determined to try harder next year, undeterred even if they weren't shaman priests. Those who had become shaman priests were mobbed wherever they went, with others begging them to try summoning their ancestors.
Of course, the bulk of the discussion centered on Sirius Black's case. For teenagers, this was the perfect age to be enthralled by such a dramatic twist. A hero falsely branded a Death Eater, suffering in Azkaban under Dementors' torment for twelve years to atone for a mistake—that was just too cool.
If Sirius Black was seen as a lone hero in the darkness, Peter Pettigrew's name had become utterly despised. Exaggeration aside, even a student's pet owl would spit at the mention of his name.
If owls could spit.
Now, wherever Harry went in the castle, people looked at him with teary, sympathetic eyes, leaving him a bit helpless. But their intentions were kind, and he couldn't exactly reject them.
Gifts from students had piled up in a corner of his office, growing daily alongside the newspaper coverage.
Honestly, if he didn't have to attend other professors' classes, Harry would've preferred to stay outside with Hagrid for some peace. Though, even Hagrid got teary-eyed when he saw him.
A bone-crushing hug from Hagrid nearly squeezed the air from Harry's lungs.
Everyone who saw Harry offered comforting looks, trying to cheer him up. Many swore they'd write to their parents to rally support for Harry's cause. The wizarding world was small, and many students' parents either worked at the Ministry or in industries tied to wizarding life, so their voices could make a difference.
Even the professors joined in. Gilderoy Lockhart, the flamboyant show-off, was predictable—he sent Harry a huge box of sweets and rambled on with bizarre comments. They were so odd that Harry forgot them immediately after hearing them.
Wasting memory on such a clown was pointless.
Other professors' concern felt more genuine, especially from Professor Flitwick, the charming little man far more likable than Dumbledore. After a second-year Charms class, Flitwick hopped onto the lectern, patted Harry's shoulder, sighed heavily, and told him not to be too sad.
He even invited Harry to join the professors for a gathering at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade that weekend—an invitation Harry couldn't refuse.
All in all, these past few days had been overwhelmingly full for Harry. Though awkward and unnecessary, the outpouring of concern touched him deeply.
As for the owl post flooding in from across the wizarding world, it was either letters urging him to take care of himself or pledges to support his fight with the Ministry to free Sirius.
Very heartfelt.
Harry's apprentices, especially his close friends, were naturally worried about their mentor. They stuck to him like glue, as if afraid he'd do something reckless—like storming the Ministry or Azkaban to break Sirius out. It made Harry want to laugh.
Rita didn't return to Hogwarts but sent letters updating Harry on her progress, particularly regarding internal Ministry matters.
She had contacted Fudge and, as planned with Harry, laid out the benefits of reopening Sirius's case. This was a key reason the Daily Prophet hadn't faced harsh Ministry crackdowns.
Since taking office the previous year, Fudge's tenure as Minister had been rocky, largely due to Rita's relentless coverage of Harry and the lawsuit Harry filed against a Ministry department last summer. These events had significantly eroded the Ministry's credibility and authority.
Harry's lawsuit against the Misuse of Magic Office, in particular, had given a voice to those who had suffered unjust treatment by the Ministry with no recourse. During that time, Rita had spotlighted these individuals, giving them a platform to vent their grievances.
In Fudge's eyes, the past year had been nothing short of turbulent. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, seemed like a walking disaster. From the moment he entered the wizarding world, Fudge's luck had soured. The boy had even caused a massive stir on his first day, destroying his Muggle uncle's house.
No matter how unfairly Fudge felt treated—many of these injustices predated his tenure—ordinary wizards didn't care.
The result? Polls showed Fudge's approval ratings plummeting, further undermining his authority as Minister. Within the Ministry, dissenting voices grew louder, split into several factions.
One was the Auror Office, led by Rufus Scrimgeour. Another was the Department of International Magical Cooperation, headed by the current media target, Bartemius Crouch.
Compared to Crouch, Scrimgeour's threat was minor in Fudge's eyes. The real danger was Crouch. If not for Dumbledore's support three years ago and the stain of Crouch's son being a Death Eater, Fudge would never have won the election.
Even relegated to a powerless department, Crouch still had loyal followers within the Ministry who ignored Fudge's orders.
But now—after a private meeting with Rita, the journalist who made his teeth itch with frustration—Fudge belatedly realized he might have an opportunity.
A chance to crush Crouch once and for all, eliminating him as a threat.
In her letter, Rita detailed Fudge's initial foolish threat to throw them all into Azkaban. But after her efforts, he finally grasped the crux of the matter and agreed to lend his support.