Between Hope and Fear

Chapter I

Cleared

There are two codes of law.

There is the Law of Man, which forced Sirius Black to be a fugitive from justice. The law of man has a funny way of playing God. It deals out justice to those whom the people in charge think deserve a lifetime spent in prison or death. But contrary to popular opinion, justice was never what Sirius Black was running from. Justice was all Sirius Black ever really wanted.

To get his justice, he had to abide not by the Law of Man, but by The Law of Nature. The basic principals of this code are not the swift hand of some high ordeals of men with lofty ambitions and narrow agendas, but that of survival of the fittest. The only commandments here are to fight, to flee, or to die.

The circumstance of one crisp autumn night twenty years ago was one that left Sirius Black hunted by those with a swift hand of justice. And so, the only law left for him to abide by was the code of Nature. The Law of Nature is the particularly the one that will get you to see through to the end of the day.

He was hunted still. But that wouldn't be much longer now.

---

Hermione Granger sighed as she twisted her dark, wild hair into a makeshift knot with two spare pencils, while she poured over Lex Magicus: A Review of Magical Law. The task at hand was all consuming, but she had to make it work.

She was running out of time. Her best friend, Harry Potter, was celebrating his twenty-first birthday in two weeks. Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, was as free as she was stupid. And then, after everything, she'd have to run to Hogsmeade for a last-minute gift, and there just wasn't time for that.

All through school, and even now (despite the fact that he had long since moved out of Number Four Privet Drive), he told her horror stories of how awful his Aunt and Uncle were; of how their son would bully him. He wouldn't go into details very often, of course. Harry was never one to complain. Harry insisted that he had nothing to complain about as long as his uncle, Sirius, was around. She and Ron Weasley had been one of the few who had known of Black's innocence for seven years since Black first escaped Azkaban. She wanted to do something about that. She wanted to give Harry what everyone should have--a parent. Sirius Black, for his part, did the best he could. Hermione knew more than Harry that Harry needed Sirius to be with him-despite the fact that he was already an adult.

And Sirius Black needed Harry.

It had been three years since she had graduated from Hogwarts with Ron and Harry. Since then, she had taken the position of a Magical Folk's Advocate (MFA). It seemed only the natural thing to do. This was the first year she had been able to work in an official capacity. This meant that for the first time, she could pick her own battles. She had just finished her training in May, which allowed her four months to give Harry his birthday present.

She thought it would be an easy fight to win because of Crouch's demise and Fudge's retirement, but like anything worthwhile, it wasn't. It took her nearly six months for the Magical Courts to even hear an appeal. It took her two months to convince Sirius that she could do it. It took her four months to finally get permission for the courts to hear the appeal.

"If you're wrong," Sirius had answered under no uncertain terms, "they'll arrest me again. They'll lock me away again for a crime I didn't commit and that rat-bastard will still be noncing around free as a Yank in the service of Harry's worst enemy. I haven't waited twenty years for justice to be handed over to the Dementors next month. Hermione, I know you think you're trying to help, but don't. And besides," he added dejectedly, "the last time I helped a Potter, I got two of them killed."

Hermione frowned. "But what if I'm right?" she pleaded. "You're the closest thing to a father Harry has. He's been waiting nearly seven years for you to be free. You owe it to him to at least let me try. I owe it to both of you to give this all I can."

"And what if it does work out? What then? Nobody's going to hire an acquitted convict."

"I thought I wasn't going to get the appeal past the courts?" she retorted.

"You're twisting my words," Sirius mumbled. "Guess that means you're pretty good at your job," he admitted with an apologetic grin.

"What-ifs aren't going to get us anywhere," she persisted. "You have to take a chance on this, Sirius. Wormtail isn't going to take a pleasure cruise to Azkaban. I'm in a position now where I can put him where he should be. If I can do that, then you're a free man, and I," she finished with a smirk, "get to be a famous MFA."

"If it doesn't work," Sirius growled, "my unhappy thought so that the Dementors won't suck my sanity this time will be that I got conned back into Azkaban by a know-it-all little bint who's in over her head and doesn't know when to quit."

"I'll get you the release papers," she promised. "And it's not just for you. Harry deserves to see his parents' killer brought to justice."

"He'd better declare his undying love for me when this is all over," she quipped. "And," she added hastily, "if you tell Ron I said that and ruin our fifth anniversary, may Merlin have mercy on your soul. Of course," she added flippantly, "I'd settle for a million galleons."

"You'd think it was a wedding anniversary," Sirius chuckled. Noting Hermione's threatening glare, he wiped the smirk off his face. "Good luck, and keep me posted," he said. A big black dog appeared where Sirius once stood, and Hermione returned to her office.

Four months later, she stood in the courtroom and argued her case.

"The Magical Court's job is to serve justice," she argued in front of Amos Diggory and the members of the Council of Magical Law. "Today, that is all Sirius Black is seeking--justice for the crimes against his friends. Sirius Black did not commit the crimes for which he was charged seven years ago. His innocence is the one thought that kept him from the Dementor's oppression. He only ran from the law because the law, for whatever reasons, failed him. Minister Diggory and members of the council, if you wish to prove that you are truly making progress within the legal system, then you must weigh the facts. The facts that have been presented throughout this trial overwhelmingly support Mr. Black's innocence without a shadow of a doubt. Therefore, you have no choice but to drop the charges set against this man."

Just like that, it was over.

Just like that, Sirius Black was a free man.

--

Meanwhile,

Ollivander's

Diagon Alley

--

"Albus," Mr. Ollivander said, studying the wand, "Wands are very funny things. In the right hands, a wand can save the world. In the wrong hands, it can bring about Armageddon. That is why I have to make sure each wand goes to the right wizard. Very important job, you know. You can't just drop a second-hand wand here like it is a worn-out piece of clothing!"

"Orrin, please reconsider," Dumbledore said. "I wager it is one of your wands anyhow, seeing as I have found it on Hogwarts grounds."

"Not one of mine," Mr. Ollivander said, scrutinizing it and meticulously running his hands over it. He placed it on the scale. "No. It is definitely not one of mine. It weighs too much to be one of mine. I'd never allow a wand of this quality out of my shop. I would ask Gregorovich if I were you," his mouth curled up in disgust. "Although I doubt he'd know the buyer."

"If you were me, Orrin," Dumbledore countered, "you would not have given Mr. Riddle a wand with one of Fawkes' feathers."

"See what I mean about the right wand with the wrong wizard causing Armageddon!? I've got to be on my guard now, you know! We can't have another You-Know-Who running around because I was slack on the job!"

"Orrin," Dumbledore began sternly, "you know as well as I do that the wands are only as good and as powerful or as wicked and as terrible as the wizards who use them. And this wand needs its wizard," Dumbledore replied calmly. "I've examined it myself," he continued, "and found it is free of jinxes. You may examine it if you'd prefer. Or perform Priori Incantatem if it would make you feel better."

"Albus, you and I are old friends, and you, of all people, know the pride I take in my merchandise. I am NOT going to be accused of shoddy workmanship. Not even for you."

"Ah, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said when Ron came into the shop. "Still working in your father's office, I presume?"

"Yes, headmaster," Ron said dismally, digging into his pocket for the remains of his wand and was putting the bits of wood on the counter. Mr. Ollivander's face grew redder with every piece Ron plunked down.

"Your name came up when we were seeking for a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the upcoming term."

"Thank you for recommending me."

"I trust you'd rather have a more permanent position?"

"Yes, from what Harry says, the Defense against the Dark Arts professors still don't last more than a year," Ron admitted. As much as he'd love a change from being an errand boy in his father's office, keeping a Professorship for only a term would do terrible damage to a resume.

"Destinies," Dumbledore said, eyeing Mr. Ollivander pointedly, "like wands, usually find their owners. Your path will find you soon enough, Mr. Weasley. Mine is still looking for me."

Ron nodded. Some things never change, he thought, Dumbledore is as cracked as he ever was.

"Orrin, I'll leave you to it, then. I trust you'll put the wand with its rightful wizard." With a wave of his hand, he was gone.

"I ought not to put another wand into your hands, Mr. Weasley!" Mr. Ollivander ranted. "That's the third one you've broken! You don't just sit on hearts and souls, you know!"

"Mr. Ollivander," Ron began, but the shop owner put a hand up to stop him, and shoved the wand Dumbledore had just left on the counter into his hand.

"I don't know where this came from. Since you obviously have no regard for your wands, I am not going to toil over which one you leave with today. You'll probably come back with bits of it in your pocket in a month's time anyway."

"How much?" Ron asked dejectedly.

"Free of charge," he spat venomously. "I AM NOT SELLING SUCH RUBBISH!" He exploded.

"Thanks!" Ron beamed, and left to go find Harry. He was supposed to distract his best friend while Hermione worked on Sirius' freedom.

****

Meanwhile,

The Leaky Cauldron

--

Harry Potter, who had been miserable most of his existence outside of Hogwarts, and had been terrified at the thought of graduation three years ago. He could have made a professional Quidditch team, but as fun as Quidditch was, it wasn't his passion. Defeating the Dark Lord wasn't exactly a marketable skill after he was vanquished. So he was both thrilled and honored when Professor Dumbledore had asked him to be his right hand man. (nice after Hogwarts pro-Voldemort)

The threat of Voldemort rising again was always present. But threats were always present. That was nothing new.

He was getting restless. He was anxious for the school term to start, just so he'd have something to do.

The school term would start tomorrow.

He kept silent about his dreams, which were getting increasingly worse. Hermione, Ron, and Sirius all had a tendency to overreact to his nightmares. Especially since their seventh year, and especially since they couldn't exactly run to Dumbledore with all their problems anymore.

But Harry knew better than to fool himself into believing that the dreams were nothing more than dreams. Truth was, he didn't want to believe.

There were little differences every night. Sometimes it was Hermione dead on the bed. Sometimes it was Cho Chang. Sometimes it was his mother leading him down the hallway. Sometimes it was Cedric Diggory. But the end was always the same. He was the only one able to stop what was coming.

Harry had stopped Voldemort in his seventh year. It had been three years since, and as far as the Wizarding World knew, he had been defeated once and for all.

But Harry couldn't push the nagging feeling aside that the Wizarding World had a knack for ignoring the obvious.

Who else would have to fall in the process? Dumbledore? And who was to say he could stop it?

But, Harry thought, washing the doubts down with a swig of Butterbeer, I defeated Voldemort six times. An seventh one can't be that much more difficult.

"So, Harry," came Ron's voice behind him, "are you going to congratulate me or what?" Harry was so deep in his reverie that when Ron clapped him on the back, he nearly spilled the contents of his mug all over his front.

"On what, giving me a heart-attack?"

"I'm going to be an uncle!"

"Angelina?" Harry asked, to which Ron nodded in response.

"Since she married Fred last year, nobody was really surprised, but Mum's about to burst at the seams being a gran for the first time and all."

"That's great, Ron! Is George looking for a new place yet? I bet that flat above the joke shop will get pretty crowded."

"Actually, I think Fred and Angelina want to find a place of their own, so I wager they'll let George keep the apartment. Plus, with a family, they will need someone to keep an eye on things close by. Don't I get a Butterbeer out of his deal?"

"You're hopeless, you know that, mate?" Harry said with a grin, walking over to the bar and plunking down the money on the counter.

"That's part of my charm," Ron quipped. "Got any plans for your birthday?"

"I'm not sure," Harry said with a shrug. "Ginny's the better person to ask about that. Did you get your wand replaced?"

"Yeah, free, too!" Ron said. "I think Ollivander felt sorry for me having to replace mine all the time." Harry somehow doubted it, remembering how angry Mr. Ollivander was when Ron broke his second wand, but he didn't press it.

"Yeah, well, back to the original question. You've got plans now whether you want them or not. Mum wanted me to tell you that you're invited for dinner over at The Burrow tomorrow for your birthday. No big deal."

"Everything is a big deal with your family," Harry answered.

"It comes with the red hair. And if you don't come, Dad, Charlie, Fred, George, Ginny n' I will probably kidnap you anyway."

"How could I refuse an invitation like that?" Harry said with a grin.

"Mum knows you never got a proper birthday. She just wants to make up for it."

"I'll be twenty-one. Birthdays are for kids. I'm not The Boy-Who-Lived anymore."

"Just humor her. It's for one evening, and then you can go back to being a stuffy adult. Fair enough, Percy?"

"Fair enough," Harry said with a chuckle.

"I ran into Dumbledore at Ollivander's," Ron continued. "Said my name came up when they were trying to pick the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"You and me back at Hogwarts again. Just like old times," said Harry, clapping Ron on the back.

"I didn't get the job," Ron replied shaking his head, "Dumbledore knew I wanted a more permanent position."

"You'll get out of your father's office eventually," Harry said.

Ron nodded, not really believing it.

Just then, Hermione came bursting through the doors.

"Harry, I just ran into Dumbledore. He says he needs you back at Hogwarts, said it was urgent," she huffed, looking askance over at Ron.

"See you two later, then," Harry said, eyeing her quizzically.

When Hermione saw that Harry was safely out of earshot, she handed a parchment to Ron.

"You know, Hermione," Ron half-scolded her, "Harry's going to start getting suspicious if you keep running him out of the room like that. He's going to think you don't like him anymore. But as long as you like me better than him, I can live with that," he finished, grinning mischievously.

"Ron," she replied, "would you stop being so thick and look at the parchment?"

He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Hermione, I don't think you want me to stop being thick." Hermione flushed.

"RON!" She admonished him, turning scarlet and smacked him with the scroll. "Just look at the parchment, will you?" she cried, unable to wipe the stupid grin off of her face.

"Now, it's all business. But when we get home, I can show you my new wand," he said suggestively, waggling his eyebrows."

She tried to glare at him, but failed miserably. "Will you be serious? This is important," she said.

"I," he read aloud, sobering. "Amos Diggory, Minister of Magic and Order of Merlin First Class, do hereby declare...Sirius Black cleared of all previous...Hermione!? That's going to make my present kind of pathetic, isn't it?" Ron pouted.

"Ron," she said, "look at the bigger picture for once in your life, will you? I got Sirius Black a pardon."

"Hermione!" Ron said, the idea finally sinking in. His entire face lit up. His eyes kept moving from her, to the parchment, then back to her again, "But how!? Just please don't tell me you broke him out yourself."

Hermione gave him an incredulous sigh. "You'd think after all this time you'd trust me better than that," she said, clucking her tongue. Then continued without batting an eyelash. "Voldemort's Death Eaters slaughtered the Minister of Magic when he came to power, and the position wasn't filled again until Voldemort's fall," she explained. "The Court of Magical Beings immediately after Voldemort fell was a joke. Defendants weren't getting fair trials, and people were being sent to Azkaban on a whim. That's why Sirius and other innocent witches and wizards went to Azkaban in the first place. After all those horrible murders, people wanted to see justice. They had to put the blame on somebody. Unfortunately that someone was Sirius Black."

"Following so far," Ron said, urging her to continue.

"When Fudge came into office, he followed the same policy because he thought that Muggle Common Law would interfere with the preservation of the Wizarding World. When Amos Diggory became Minister of Magic three years ago, he reinstated the Muggle Common Law as the standard practice for The Court of Magical Beings. Sirius didn't get a trial, and a law was brought into place six years ago that all people must be tried before they're found guilty, and since he was never tried for the crimes he was accused of, he was acquitted. And because of Double Jeopardy, he can't be tried for the same crime twice," she said triumphantly.

"In English?"

"In English, that means he's off the hook. He's going to have to testify when--or if--they bring in Peter Pettigrew, but Sirius Black is a free man. I Owled your Mum, and she's just replied that he's coming to the Burrow tonight."

"That's brilliant!" Ron crowed.

"Come on, Ron, let's go home. I want to see your new wand," she purred, grinning lasciviously.

"Mum was right, you are a scarlet woman!" Ron replied, and led her out of The Leaky Cauldron.

"You're objecting?" Hermione teased as the door shut behind her..

"Not unless I know what's good for me."

The Next Evening

The Burrow

--

All hands on the Weasley Family clock pointed to 'home.' Spirits were high as Harry's twenty-first birthday party got underway.

'Happy Birthday Harry' was written in big bold letters above the mantle and was magically suspended. Mrs. Weasley had made enough of Harry's favorites to feed a heard of hippogriffs. She had also found out somehow that birthday hats existed, and made Hermione get some from a Muggle shop. Everyone, after much protesting, was forced to put them on. Harry tried to take his off, but after that, she charmed everyone's so that they wouldn't come off.

Ron had said it was going to be just the family in attendance, but the Weasley family, Weasley significant others, and the honorary Weasleys made a family gathering no small affair. Hermione, of course, was there, as well as Remus Lupin, who was a key figure in getting Black his acquittal. Charlie, much to Mrs. Weasley's chagrin, was there with his Gypsy girlfriend, Bayla. Percy, who by all accounts still had his stick in the mud, lightened up enough to enjoy a good party. His wife Penelope wouldn't have let him get away without going. Angelina arrived with Fred and George. The Burrow was threatening to collapse with the throng, but nobody seemed to mind.

One of the first charms Hermione devised after her completion of the N.E.W.T.S. was one for the stabilizing of electronics in the wizarding world. Her laptop became highly useful in her work, and as long as she didn't use them while anyone was doing magic, they worked quite normally. So, to liven the party, Hermione brought her Muggle portable CD player. Mr. Weasley couldn't take his eyes off of it. "It's like a Wizard Wireless, Mr. Weasley," she said. "Except you play music from this thing," she said, holding up a silver round object. "It's called a compact disc."

"And you choose whatever you want to listen to on it?"

She nodded, enjoying the process of explaining. "You just have to have a C.D. It works by reading a memory on the disk"

"It's a C.V., you say? But I thought that was a...and memory? I'd say that's got to take a lot of Memory Potions!"

"Compact Disc, Mr. Weasley," trying not to make him sound stupid, "and no, the memory is recorded in microscopic grooves."

"My Lord!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, looking as though he were a child at Christmas.

"Well," Hermione said to Ron, "I know what to get your father for Christmas this year."

The CD, when Mr. Weasley wasn't tipping the player over to get a look at its insides without taking apart, blared Elton John.

Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band
Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man
Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand
And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand

Jesus freaks out in the street
Handing tickets out for God
Turning back she just laughs
The boulevard is not that bad

Piano man he makes his stand
In the auditorium
Looking on she sings the songs
The words she knows, the tune she hums

But oh how it feels so real
Lying here with no one near
Only you and you can't hear me
When I say softly, slowly

Hold me closer tiny dancer
Count the headlights on the highway
Lay me down in sheets of linen
you had a busy day today

Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band
Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man
Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand
And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand

"This song's been on the Wizard Wireless a couple of times," Fred said. "Reggie White, right?"

"No," Hermione said, scrunching her eyebrows together in thought and answered, "Elton John."

"Hang on," Harry said, "I remember one summer Dudley was watching MTV, and they had this spot about him. His real name was Reggie White...guess that explains the clothes."

"Arthur, dear!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed in amazement, "you don't suppose that's Uncle Eltie?"

"Uncle Eltie?" The twins both mouthed silently. Angelina and Penelope had to cough to pretend they weren't laughing.

"That's what we all called him. He was a year above me in Hufflepuff," Mrs. Weasley explained, "got kicked out for experimenting with weeds in Herbology."

"I do believe so, Molly," Mr. Weasley answered, "if memory serves, Headmaster Dippett wouldn't have expelled him if he hadn't had that embarrassing potions mishap a month later."

The night was growing old. It wasn't long before the twins had taken to transforming the party hats to boxer shorts. Hermione was nervous, because one key guest had yet to arrive.

"He should be here by now!" Hermione informed Ron. She didn't have to whisper, the party was loud enough that you could barely hear yourself talk. "And would you stop ogling Bayla! It's rude!"

"I'm not ogling!" Ron protested, "And he'll get here. He has to get here."

"This is going to be a total disaster if You-Know-Who doesn't show up," Hermione said.

"Don't say You-Know-Who too loudly 'round here. That would spoil the party."

"There's got to be more You-Know-Who's than THE You-Know-Who."

As if on cue, there was a loud pop, and Sirius Black appeared.

"SIRIUS BLACK!" Bayla shrieked, pointing a long, bony finger at him. Her accent made her words almost indecipherable.

Sirius nodded, "The one and only. And to whom do I owe the pleasure?"

"Bayla Marijke, Mr. Black," Charlie interrupted with a sheepish, apologetic grin on his face. "She's just not used to crowds," he extended his hand in greeting.

"Then we have something in common, Ma Cherrie. I am an expert on solitude being on the run for so long. I had a chance to figure out the REAL me. Convicts make excellent boyfriends in that respect. They don't go running off having mid-life crises. But then," he added upon seeing Charlie's threatening glare, "I see you're already spoken for."

"Sirius," Harry said, grinning broadly, "this is a party. No place to talk shop." He greeted his godfather in a warm hug.

"Happy Birthday Harry." Sirius said.

"What are you doing here? You could have been caught! Or killed!"

"So that's your standard hello, eh? No wonder you don't have many friends," Sirius said with an impish grin of his own, tousling Harry's jet-black hair with fatherly affection.

"Just surprised you made it, that's all," Harry said.

"Relax, Harry. Hermione!" He shouted, peering over the crowd. "HERMIONE, I THINK IT'S TIME YOU GIVE HARRY HIS PRESENT! And Harry, this is a birthday party, no place to talk shop."

"Happy Birthday, Harry," she said with a triumphant grin on her face, and handed Harry a scroll tied with a red ribbon. When Harry took it, he thought she was going to explode.

Cautiously, Harry opened the scroll, then his jaw dropped to the floor in disbelief when he saw it was Sirius' release papers.

"Hermione...Sirius...would you look...how...Ron..."

"My only part in this was making sure you didn't find out, Mate," Ron answered.

"Harry," George piped up, "has You-Know-Who finally taken his toll on your mental state?"

"Because you're babbling like a loon." Fred finished.

"Well," Harry answered, resisting the urge to smack the Weasley twins, "I guess I can't bloody well return this, can I?" He quipped, afraid that if he took his eyes off his godfather for two seconds he'd wake up and it would all be another dream.

"Nice to be appreciated," Sirius teased.

"An oversight, Harry," Hermione quavered, her eyes glistening, but for only an instant. "I pointed out that he never got a trial," her voice steadied again. "The Magical Court couldn't help but see it my way. Happy Birthday, Harry," she said, and finished her words with a bone-crunching hug.

Sirius suddenly felt extremely warm, and then he felt extremely cold.

A blue-white light flooded in front of his eyes, blinding him. He tried to call out, but found that his voice was not with his mouth. He had the odd sensation of being ripped from his body. And something else...it was almost as if he were in a vacuum.

It would be a long time before Sirius Black was aware of his surroundings again.

Dr. Sam Becket had found himself in many weird places and in many weird situations, but never one quite as bizarre as the house that he found himself in at that very moment.

There was a huge crowd gathered around him, making him glad he was only afraid of heights and not of crowds. He took a closer look at his surroundings and discovered that everyone--including himself--was wearing boxers on their heads, and that the house was unlike any other he had ever seen. The first thing he noticed was a huge sign that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY in big bold letters and was suspended in mid-air. The second thing was a clock with eight hands on it which were all set on 'HOME.'

The majority of the people in the house all had red hair, blue eyes, and freckles. There was a man with a boyish appearance who had shaggy hair that was almost grown down over his eyes. Despite the wire-rimmed glasses over them, Sam could see that they were a startling green. There was a girl about his age who was about five-feet-two with bushy hair; she was hugging him the way friends hug each other.

A lanky, busty woman was seething, and marching towards him. She pointed a bony, accusing finger at Sam. Her gray eyes glaring with hatred. "YOU SHOULD ROT IN AZKABAN FOR VOT YOU DEET. YOU KEELT ALL AV ZOS PEOPLE! JU ARE A MURDERER! AND YOU!" she ranted, towering over the girl with bushy hair, "ARE AS GOOD AS VON!" she shrieked.

"Oh boy," Sam mumbled.