The metal door creaked loudly as Sirius gave it a slight push, making it swing open all the way. He flinched at the sound of crashing metal where the door made contact with whatever muggle contraptions Arthur stored behind the shed doors. The rim from a car tire rolled across his path briefly before coming into contact with the wooden shelves, overflowing with contraptions, in the middle of the small space.

It was a convenient place to hide out, really. One step into the shed and one would be lost into oblivion.

Sirius took a step inside. “Harry?” He called. Ginny had told him his godson was in here; and he himself figured there was nowhere else Harry could possibly be. Plus, the shed door was open when he got here, which meant that he was probably right.

Something moved in the shadows at the back of the shed. Sirius had to squint to see through the cloud of dust being illuminated by the rays of the morning sun, which filtered in through the only dirt-encrusted window on the side of the room. He heard a sniffle before the shadow shifted a second time.

The animagus breathed a sigh of relief. He had found him! His confidence restored, Sirius slowly continued towards the back of the shed, where his grieving godson sat, moping. “Harry, come on, pup! You should be getting ready, shouldn’t you?”

“Do you know how long, Sirius?” A nasal voice spoke up from the shadows as Sirius watched the figure shift yet again. “Do you know how long I stood there?”

The animagus squinted through the rays of morning sunlight, trying to make out the figure in the back. He was quite sure that it was Harry. Yet his voice sounded thick, heavy—like he had been crying. “Harry?” He asked, just for clarification.

“Hours, Padfoot.” Harry shifted until he was leaning against Arthur’s worktable. Sirius got a good look at his godson then—half his face illuminated by sunlight, the other half shadowed by darkness. The animagus could just make out dried tear tracks running down his godson’s cheek. So he was right then. The boy had been crying.

“What are you talking about, pup?” He asked, approaching Harry with the same caution as one approached a beaten puppy.

“Malfoy Manor.” Harry croaked, his eyes still refusing to meet Sirius’. “Do you know how long I stood outside of its wards? Just staring at it?” He whispered, his gaze focused on a point a million miles away. His face twisted into an ugly grimace then. “Hours, Padfoot!”

“Over this past week?” Sirius asked, kneeling before the bench upon which his godson sat.

“Every few hours or so, I would apparate there.” The teen explained, his voice still no louder than a whisper. “And…just stare at it.”

The animagus struggled to keep the frown from his face. So that’s where Harry would disappear to for hours on end!

“Does that make me a bad father?” He asked out of the blue, his eyes instantly snapping back to meet his godfather’s.

Sirius was floored by the question. Where had that come from?! “How does that make you—”

“That I didn’t do everything necessary to protect my son?!” The teen continued, pushing himself up from his slumped position to fix Sirius with the most desperate gaze the wizard had ever seen on a man.

“Harry…” He reached out to grip his godson’s shoulders firmly. “You did the right thing!”

“I didn’t go inside to get him!” The boy agonized, his face contorting into another heartbreaking frown. “I could have, but I didn’t!” Sirius could smell tears bubbling just below the surface. “I just…LEFT! I LEFT him there over and over again!”

“Harry, listen to me—”

“A year ago, I would’ve just marched in there and—”

“And that would have lost you custody of him permanently!” Sirius cried, giving his godson a good shake in an effort to get through to him. “You know why? ‘Cause you’d be DEAD!”

That broke him. Harry turned away from him and cracked. The teen began choking on his own sobs and tears began spilling down his cheeks once more.

Sirius automatically came up and wrapped his godson in his embrace. “Come on, my boy…” He crooned into Harry’s ear as he began rubbing comforting circles into the teen’s back. “Come on, pup…”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Oh, you did plenty.” Sirius quietly assured him.

The animagus’ mind flashed back to the conversation he had with Hestia late last night, and how he found out just why the Malfoys wanted to get their hands on Severus so badly. The infant had merely been a tool the Death Eaters were using to lure Harry to them. Now Sirius was finding out just how close their plan came to working!

“Your cousin wishes to testify on Harry’s behalf.”

“Narcissa?!” Sirius barked, his eyes widening to the widths of saucers. “Are you MENTAL?! She probably—”

“She’s divorcing him, Padfoot!” Hestia broke in, stopping Sirius cold.

He had been speechless for a whole five minutes.

“Look…” Sirius started as soon as he sensed Harry calm down. “I spoke to Hestia and Moody last night. There’s a reason the Malfoys—”

“I have a mental bond with my son, Sirius.” Harry replied weakly. “There’s nothing that you know that I already don’t.”

The animagus’ eyes widened slightly. For a minute, he flashed back to last night, when no words came to him and he immediately didn’t know how to reply. So…Harry had known it was a trap; maybe not immediately, but he had found out when Severus had.

Clever boy…The older wizard thought. Then he realized that indeed there was something that he knew that Harry already didn’t. “Oh, there is one thing, my boy,” he replied, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “and it might just win us this case!”

Harry took one look at his godfather’s twinkling eyes and gave the man a suspicious frown. What did he mean by that?

Harry felt like he was about to hyperventilate. His palms were sweaty, and no matter how hard he tried to wipe the sweat off, it would just keep coming back! The edge of his tie was now crumpled due to his constant fiddling, and he felt like unbuttoning some of the top buttons of his shirt because of the stifling heat. He was just about to reach for the edge of his tie yet again when two soft hands covered his own and gave them a supportive squeeze.

“We got this, Harry.” An angelic voice whispered in his ear.

“Yeah, that’s what we thought when we left for New York—”

“Shhh!” Ginny hushed him up by giving him a quick squeeze and leaning her forehead against his temple. “Now I’m sure of it!”

Harry swallowed and turned to face his fiancé. “I hope you’re right.” He whispered shakily.

“All rise!”

All conversations in the room ground to a halt and there was a muted groan as everyone climbed to their feet and the side doors opened to allow the members of the Wizengamot to file in.

“In the case of Henry Potter vs. Draco Malfoy for the custody of one Severus Tobias Snape, the honorable members of the Wizengamot, led by His Lordship Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, presiding!”

“Thank you, Martha.” Dumbledore replied, taking his seat and signaling everyone else in the courtroom to take a seat as well. “Will both parties stand and present themselves, please?”

The members of both tables at the front of the courtroom stood up. One of the strange men at Malfoy’s table spoke up first, “I am Michael John Smith, My Lord, barrister-at-law. I will be representing the Malfoys, consisting of Lucius Malfoy and Draco Malfoy.”

Sirius picked up right after him. “Sirius Orion Black, the Third, My Lord. I am not a lawyer, but I am the leading counsel on this side of the case and am quite versed in wizarding law. I will be representing the Potters, consisting of Henry James Potter and Ginevra Molly Weasley.” A small buzz traveled across the packed courtroom after he finished disclosing that little factoid, but Dumbledore quickly took care of that with a few whacks of his gavel. He signaled for the two groups to once again take their seats.

After adjusting his glasses, Dumbledore pretended to read off a piece of paper on his desk while seeming to ask offhandedly, “Is the child in question present?”

“Yes, My Lord, he is outside the courtroom in the custody of his social worker.” Martha, the court clerk, replied as she typed away with her typewriter.

“Bring him through, then.” The doors at the back immediately opened and everyone present turned to sneak a peek at the child at the center of all this hoopla.

There was Severus, curled up into a ball in Hestia’s arms, hugging his lion cub close to his chest and sucking on his thumb.

“He’s still wearing the same clothes they took him in!” Harry growled beneath his breath.

“Calm down, love!” Ginny chided him gently.

A low buzz swept through the room and the sounds of clicking cameras filled the air as whispers began bouncing off the walls.

“It’s Snape!”
“Look, Dean!”
“He’s so CUTE!”
“Yeah, that’s the kid we saw at the party.”
“Wow. So THAT’S what he looks like!”
“I don’t understand the big deal.”
“How adorable!”
“How precious!”
“He looks like a regular baby.”

“Order!” BANG! BANG! BANG! “Everyone hush up!”

The sound of Dumbledore’s voice broke Severus out of his reverie and when he looked up, he became a bit disoriented. Hestia was carrying him up the aisle of a courtroom of some kind, and sitting at the tables in front of, what appeared to be, the members of the Wizengamot, was none other than those bastard Malfoys and—

“DADDY!” He cried, pushing off of Hestia with as much strength as he could and trying to make a jump for Harry.

Everyone screamed in panic the moment Severus started to fall to the floor.

Fortunately, Hestia moved quickly and was able to catch the infant before he could drop too far. “Holy Merlin!”

“MUMMY!” Sev screamed, oblivious to it all. “DADDY! MUMMY!” Tears began leaking from his eyes as he blindly reached for them.

“We’re right here, sweetie!” Ginny replied, making a reach for her baby.

“No, Ginny!” Sirius cried, pulling the teen back. “Not yet!” He hissed in her ear.

“Daddy! Wamp go daddy!”

Harry held a finger to his lips and locked eyes with his infant as Hestia passed them by. Wait, cub…He told him in a calming voice, via their mental bond. Just wait a little longer…

Severus calmed down then, biting his lip before settling in Hestia’s arms. He kept his teary eyes on his parents even as Hestia walked farther away from them. “Pomeh?” He asked his dad over her shoulder, his voice tiny and oozing with sadness and desperation.

“I promise, cub.” Harry replied, giving his infant a cocky half-smile. He needed to appear strong for Severus’ sake; even if he felt the exact opposite inside.

Up in the stands, one of the members of the Wizengamot stroked her chin in contemplation. That was certainly interesting!

“I don’t understand!” One of the other members cried out. “Is he an infant? Why does he appear to understand us perfectly?”

“It’s because he does, My Lord.” Hestia replied, stopping right at the center of the Wizengamot semi-circle. “Severus, here, is in full possession of his previous memories.”

“So he’s an adult inside.” One of the female members broke in. “Let him make his own choice as to who he wants to stay with!”

“But he’s clearly a child!” One of the other members argued. “They don’t know enough to make their own decisions!”

“Yes, but—”

“Lords and Ladies!” Dumbledore boomed. “Lords and Ladies, if I may?” Everyone quieted down and gave him their full attention. “Why don’t we allow a mind healer to assess his mental condition, and if he deems it fit to go so far as to take in young Master Snape’s input as to his own placement, then so be it? Does anyone have an objection to that?” After waiting a few moments to see if all the other members were okay with that decision, Dumbledore nodded and signaled to someone at the side of the room. A middle-aged gentleman immediately began stepping forward.

“Martha?”

The clerk began opening her mouth but the gentleman beat her to it. “Dr. Christopher Pendleton, My Lord,” he introduced himself, “I was trained as a mind healer at St. Mungo’s and I also have a muggle doctoral degree in Clinical Psychology with an emphasis on Child Psychology.”

“Very well.” Dumbledore nodded, signaling for one of the guards to open the side door. “You may use the Judges’ Chambers to conduct your interview. Keep in mind what we just said!”

As Hestia, Severus, and mind healer made their way to the back room, the infant peered longingly over his social worker’s shoulder and waved sadly in his parents’ direction.

Ginny blew a kiss his way before the doors closed and she could see her baby no more.

“Alright!” Dumbledore boomed, straightening the papers on his podium. “Let’s move things along! I want to hear what both sides have to say on this issue. We shall start with the Malfoys. Mr. Smith?”

The smug-looking barrister-at-law stood up from his seat and gave the Wizengamot a charming smile as he buttoned one of the buttons on his jacket. “Ladies and Gentlemen of the Wizengamot, we are here today to decide the fate of one eleven-month-old child. Now…despite the fact that he may have all the memories of his previous life—something that has yet to be proven, as a matter of fact—the reality still remains that he is a child, an infant…a baby.” Smith flashed a blinding grin at some of the younger ladies in the stands. “A baby of the Prince bloodline!” He exclaimed, pointing a finger in the air for emphasis. “And if you’ll all kindly examine Exhibit A in the folders atop each of your desks, you’ll notice that the Prince bloodline is directly connected to the Malfoy bloodline.” Again with the finger-wagging. “Precedent states that in custody cases such as these, the child is best suited being placed with his blood relatives. In the instances where the child had been placed with non-blood-related relatives, an astounding ninety percent of the time, the Department of Wizarding Child Protective Services had to take back custody of the child due to reports of abuse and neglect.”

The lawyer paused yet again to smile at the ladies in the stands, causing Sirius to shake his head with a scowl.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, how do we know that, this time, it’s going to be any different? Mr. Potter over there,” he pointed his emphasis finger at Harry, “has had continuous run-ins with the muggle law since he was a five-year-old child. He’s got a muggle criminal record as long as my arm! Exhibit B in your packets is merely an excerpt of the nasty things he’s done since childhood.”

Sirius forcefully clamped a hand down on Harry’s shoulder in an effort to keep him from jumping out of his seat. “Patience, pup!” He hissed in his godsons’ ear. “We’ll get them back.”

“Vandalism, robbery, breaking and entering, assault and battery—including assault on his arresting officers! Muggle psychologists have remarked that this child is beyond help. No one was able to get through to him! And the criminal activity didn’t stop there, Ladies and Gentlemen. No! We have records and muggle photographs of Mr. Potter—aged sixteen, two years ago, Ladies and Gentlemen—that show him associating with a fierce and dangerous muggle gang known as the Taipan Tribe. ‘Taipan’ after the most venomous snake in the world! It is listed as the most dangerous muggle gang in the Greater London area, in fact. Exhibit C shows some of those pictures we were able to obtain from his muggle records. THIS is the man you want to place a child with, Ladies and Gentlemen?! An infant?! A helpless little baby?!” Smith took a lengthy pause to examine the faces of the Wizengamot members, trying to see if his words registered with any of them. Finally, he finished with an even tone, “If I have not already done so, by the end of today, I will prove to you that Mr. Potter would make a poor choice for guardianship in this situation and that precedent should be upheld and young Mr. Snape placed with his blood relatives, the Malfoys. Thank you.” Turning on his heel, the lawyer unfastened the bottom button on his jacket and took his seat once again.

Harry glanced over at Malfoy’s table to find the younger blonde smirking smugly back at him. The teen scowled in return.

The short silence following Smith’s opening statement was quickly broken when Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Thank you, Mr. Smith. Now we shall hear the Potters’ opening arguments. Mr. Black?”

Sirius immediately climbed to his feet. “Thank you, My Lord.” The animagus cleared his throat in preparation as he approached the center of the Wizengamot semi-circle. He only took a split second to survey his audience before diving into his Opening Argument. “My Lords, My Ladies…to begin, I pose this single, seemingly straightforward question: What defines a family?” He paused briefly to let the question sink in. “Is it blood ties? Marriage ties? Is that what defines a real family? Is that what forms the bonds that hold a family together? Because if it is, then I would ask you to explain my own case.” Sirius turned and pointed directly at the younger Malfoy. “Young Draco Malfoy and I are first cousins once removed. His mother is my cousin, and the two of us,” he gestured between them, much to Malfoy’s annoyance, “are directly related by blood.”

A murmur made its way around the courtroom.

“Yet, as you can tell from the way he’s scowling at me right now, neither of us like that very much. He couldn’t care less that I’m his cousin, and I couldn’t care less that he’s mine. We’re total strangers.” The animagus paused to allow his words to sink in. A quick survey around the room told him he had a captivated audience. “There is no familial bond between us, there is no…love.” Sirius stroked his goatee thoughtfully. “Love—now there’s a…an idea. Could family be defined by love? Could love be those elusive bonds that hold a family together?” The wizard gestured towards his godson. “My Lords and Ladies, sitting over there is my godson, Harry Potter. Now, the Potters are not related to the Blacks in any way, shape, or form, and yet I consider that boy my son, and everyone else sitting around him my real family. And WHY?! Because we love each other! That love is what keeps us together. That love is what creates us! And that love is what separates my real family from the one I have on paper.” He gestured haphazardly over his shoulder to where the Malfoys were seated.

Harry glanced over to see Draco’s face darkening.

“My Lords and Ladies, if Mr. Potter was even half as bad as Mr. Smith made him out to be, why would young Mr. Snape love him enough to call him—him who would otherwise be a complete stranger—‘daddy’? You heard it from the mouth of the babe himself. Why would he call him ‘daddy’? And why would he call Mr. Potter’s girlfriend ‘mummy’? And, for that matter, since young Mr. Snape has been living with Mr. Potter for seven months, if Mr. Potter was half even as bad as Mr. Smith made him out to be, why would Severus still be a happy, healthy, bouncy baby boy after all this time?!” He paused to see if his words had any effects. Much to his relief, it looked like it had. “My Lords and Ladies, if you’ll look in those very same folders on your desk for Exhibit D, you’ll see what I mean. Now, all of you can call that evidence; but I call them family photos—happy memories of all the milestones Severus has reached over the past seven months. There are hundreds more where they came from. If you want more proof than that, I can take you on a tour of the house Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley keep for their family. Or you can ask anyone in the community at Godric’s Hollow just how much these two LOVE their child!”

“Yeah!” A voice shouted from the back.

“No doubt about that!” Another joined in.

Harry turned to find a large group of people at the back of the courtroom raising their hands. They were his neighbors from Godric’s Hollow!

“Now, I’m not denying that Mr. Potter may have done those things when he was younger—made those mistakes—but I can tell you, from personal experience, that experiences like that—living that kind of life—changes a man, permanently. Now he can change either one of two ways—he can jump off the edge of that cliff and throw himself entirely into that criminal lifestyle, or he can get out of the game entirely, turn his life around, and work to steer his own children away from all of that junk. My Lords and Ladies, if I have not already done so, I will prove to you today that Mr. Potter is the one who chose to change his life and give his child—young Mr. Snape—the life he never had growing up—a life full of love, laughter, and a real family.” Sirius turned to the side to glare at Draco over his shoulder. “And while I’m at it, I will prove to you that Mr. Malfoy here is the one who chose to throw himself off the cliff.”

“Bastard!” Draco instantly lunged at the animagus, but his lawyer managed to catch him just in time. The sudden move, however, was enough to catch the attention of the crowd and pandemonium quickly erupted in the courtroom.

“And that he is an alcoholic and that he likes to hit women!” Sirius shouted above the din, smirking at the fuming blonde as he made his way back to his seat.

“That is ENOUGH!” Dumbledore boomed, banging his gavel rather forcefully in an effort to calm the crowd. “The both of you take your seats!” The old wizard sighed. This was going to be a long hearing! “Thank you, Mr. Black. Mr. Smith, you may call your first witness.”

Smith rose from his seat, once again fastening that infernal button of his. “My Lord, we only have one witness, sir. We call muggle Sergeant Victor Rockwell to the stand.” He handed Sirius a file as he passed by.

The animagus frowned upon taking it. “They never submitted any witness names to me.” He whispered to his godson.

“Son of a bitch!” Harry hissed.

Sirius’ frown deepened. “What’s wrong?”

The teen, his eyes flaming, nodded towards the smug-looking muggle police officer making his way up the center aisle of the courtroom. “That’s Rockwell!” Harry whispered. The teen spat out the name like a nasty curse. “He’s the guy who arrested me the most when I was a kid. He’s a crooked cop!”

“Would you state your name and profession for the record please, sir?” Smith began.

“Officer Victor Rockwell. Sergeant. Metropolitan Police, Tower Hamlets Borough.” The man replied in a bored voice.

“Half the times he arrested me, the charges were bogus, and every time he nabbed me, he made sure to take that baton of his to me, and he somehow managed to blame it on the fact that I ran from him!” Harry vented, silently working himself into a frenzy.

“Officer Rockwell—“

“Ah! Sergeant Rockwell.” The officer corrected with a crooked smile.

Smith acquiesced with a nod, “My apologies. Sergeant Rockwell…”

“Of course I ran from him!” Harry continued in his godfather’s ear. “Everyone ran from him! If you didn’t run from him, you ended up with a beating!”

“Harry, calm down, pup!” Sirius hissed in return.

“Would you please state your relation to Mr. Potter?”

“I had the pleasure of arresting him the most when he was a young street rat, running around the streets of East End.” Rockwell smirked.

“The important thing is he can be bought!” Harry continued, regardless of his godfather.

Sirius waved for him to quiet down once again. Dumbledore was glaring daggers in their direction. “Write it all down on paper, pup!” He cried, shoving a quill and parchment in his godson’s hands. “And make sure you can swear on it!” The teen instantly began scribbling like mad.

“And how would you describe Mr. Potter? In your own words.” Smith continued.

“A troublemaker—plain and simple.” The officer replied without a second thought.

Sirius studied the folder Smith handed him with a frown. “You said he beat you?” He quietly asked the teen next to him. Harry looked up from his writing and nodded silently in reply. “Was that before or after he slapped the cuffs on you?”

“After.” Harry answered without missing a beat.

“Every time?” His godson gave him another nod. “Right.” Picking up a piece of scrap paper, the animagus nabbed the quill from his godson’s hands and wrote a quick note on it before passing it over Harry’s shoulder to Ginny and Hermione. “Make sure your statement is the truth and rock-solid.” He said, forcefully tapping his finger against the parchment his godson was scribbling on.

“Yes, sir.” The teen murmured, picking up the quill and quickly resuming his writing.

“We’d always had him in and out as a kid. Potter was always involved in something or another,” he pointed at Smith, “and always it was violent! The entire station knew his name!”

The lawyer smiled. He had been expecting the answer. “Would you name some of the crimes Mr. Potter has been found guilty of committing?”

“Once, when he was seven, he and his little gang of friends beat up this homeless woman on the street.”

“Not true.” Harry murmured under his breath with a shake of his head. The pressure of the quill on the piece of parchment intensified tenfold.

“And she was pregnant at the time!”

Harry growled and his scribbling became even more furious. Sirius watched as his grip on the quill strengthened, almost causing it to snap. “Pinning me for a crime that he himself committed!”

“They had to take her to the hospital. She lost the baby and fell into a coma. He was only lucky she wasn’t conscious enough to accuse him herself!”

Harry threw the quill down and would have jumped to his feet, had it not been for Sirius’, Remus’ and Ron’s hands all clamping down on his shoulders simultaneously.

“You’re going to prove his point, Henry! STOP taking the bait!”

“Relax, love…” Ginny whispered in his ear. Harry could feel a tingling sensation run down his spine as her calming magic took effect. He settled for glaring daggers at his old nemesis, who smirked smugly in return. The bastard was enjoying Harry’s reactions to his testimony.

“What other crimes has Mr. Potter been convicted of?” Smith continued.

Ginny had to help in calming Harry several times as Smith coaxed several more stories out of Rockwell; all of them obviously inaccurate, if the teen’s reactions were anything to go by. Sirius feared his godson would eventually reach his breaking point and lash out magically. Although he had planned an appropriate defense if it ever got to that point, he really had hope that he would not have to resort to using it.

“Tell us about Mr. Potter’s recent bout of gang activity, Sergeant Rockwell.” Smith said, causing Sirius’ ears to perk up.

“So I was working with a detective inspector on a case he was investigating involving the Taipan Tribe. Now…you have to understand, this gang is brutal—very dangerous, not to mention ruthless as well! Their initiation rites include raping and killing a woman and beating and then murdering a target chosen by the gang leader himself. And this is in cold blood, mind you! The woman and the target are kidnapped beforehand, and then given to the recruit—bound and gagged—to do with as he sees fit.” The man leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together, taking up a sort of ‘expert’ stance. “What the whole initiation rite is for is to make their members immune to their own conscience; mold them into trained killers.” He paused slightly, as if rethinking his words. “Well…maybe not trained, but killers nonetheless. The point is, they won’t even bat an eyelash at having to kill someone should they be told that the person’s death was warranted.”

Whispers of Voldemort immediately began circulating about the room. Harry felt a chill creep up his spine.

Dumbledore took care of the noise with a few whacks of his gavel, and Harry watched as Remus passed Sirius a note from the back of the room.

“Imagine my surprise…though I really shouldn’t have been surprised…when our surveillance team catches my old friend Harry among the known gang members. Spotted in his possession? A black 9mm semi-automatic handgun. Now completely illegal, mind you! They probably obtained it off the black market. It looked like he was in the middle of an initiation.”

The whispers this time became murmurs and Harry could sense that there were more people talking this time around.

Harry turned to his godfather with a shake of his head. “It was supposed to be my initiation. I got out of it entirely that night! I never did any of those things!” He hissed.

“Shhh, pup! I know!” The animagus assured him. Dumbledore banged his gavel several more times, sending a glare of annoyance towards the gathered crowd.

“Those very pictures are in Exhibit C in those folders on your desk, Ladies and Gentlemen. He was going through an initiation ceremony that involved a rape, a beating, and two murders, both of completely innocent people. Now, if memory serves, those activities were very similar to those which the Death Eaters are well-known for.”

And the murmurs gave way to full-volume chatter. “But Potter defeated the Chief Death Eater!” A man shouted from amongst the crowd. Dumbledore banged away and sent the man a death glare while Harry buried his face in his hands.

“Perhaps to take his place?” Smith responded, turning towards the speaker.

The chatter became shouts and people started jumping to their feet. There were at least twenty people shouting at once. The rest shook their head as they argued with their neighbors.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Ladies and Gentlemen! If all of you wish to remain in this courtroom, you are to quiet down immediately!” Dumbledore turned his death glare towards the Malfoys’ lawyer. “Mr. Smith, I implore you not to rouse the audience. This is a custody hearing, NOT a rally. This is your only warning!”

The barrister laid a hand on his chest and bowed slightly to Dumbledore. “Apologies, My Lord. My point is that this is not a man you want to place an infant with, Ladies and Gentlemen! He can barely stay out of trouble because he’s been getting himself in these scrapes for so long, and he associates with dangerous criminals. What sort of life would young Severus lead if he were made to live with this kind of man? He would wind up a Death Eater again in no time!”

This time, Sirius, Remus, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all had to hold Harry down and clamp his mouth shut to keep him from standing up and shouting out.

“DON’T fall for it, pup!” Sirius hissed, his voice shaking as he struggled to keep his godson down. “You’re letting him win!”

The simple statement managed to do the trick and Harry pulled himself together in seconds. The teen settled for glaring at Smith instead, and the lawyer smirked at him in return. The young wizard could tell, however, that the attorney was just a bit disappointed by his lack of reaction. Although he had to be held back several times, he had yet to react in the same manner as Draco did just minutes before.

Turning back to the Wizengamot, Smith murmured, “No further questions, My Lord,” before making his way back to his table. “Your witness, Black.”

Sirius nodded respectfully and climbed to his feet, but not before whispering in his godson’s ear, “Take a deep breath Henry James!” He ordered firmly as he picked up the file from earlier. “I got this. Deep breaths!”

Turning, Sirius addressed the Wizengamot, “My Lord, I would like to state for the record that this witness’ identity was not disclosed to myself or anyone in the Potter party in any way over the past week.”

All the members turned to glance at the Malfoys’ lawyer, who merely shrugged from his seat and offered no verbal reply.

“Council, do you have anything to say in that regard?” Dumbledore pushed, hoping to get some sort of reaction from the other side.

Yet Smith simply shook his head. “No, My Lord.”

The Chief Warlock removed his glasses with a sigh. “Very well. Comment is noted. Proceed, Mr. Black.”

“Yes, My Lord.” Sirius turned back to the file in his hand. “Mr. Rockwell, we’ve been going through your post-incident reports from the times when you had been Mr. Potter’s arresting officer. Would you say the time stamps on these reports are accurate?”

The sergeant grinned smugly at him. “Down to the second!”

“Really?” Sirius raised an eyebrow, acting surprised.

“I do not lie.” The officer replied, sounding rather proud of himself.

The animagus snorted and turned towards his table. “Yes, I’m sure, sir.” He murmured under his breath, making sure it was loud enough for Rockwell to hear.

The policeman frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?” He asked, now obviously offended.

Sirius turned back towards him and feigned innocence. “What is what supposed to mean, sir?”

“Do you doubt I’m telling the truth?!”

“That is precisely what I doubt, sir.”

Smith jumped to his feet. “My Lord, Mr. Black is badgering the witness.”

Dumbledore sighed. “Mr. Black, get to the point quickly, please.”

“I would like to request the administration of Veritaserum, My Lord.” Sirius said, turning towards the Chief Warlock.

“What?!” Rockwell exclaimed, both angered and confused by the strange name.

“It’s a sort of truth serum we have here in the Wizarding world.” The animagus explained.

“Hey! You ain’t giving me no drug!” The officer pointed a threatening finger at him.

“Two questions.” Sirius replied, his eyes and tone filled with challenge.

“I refuse!”

“A mere drop, Mr. Rockwell. You afraid of a mere drop of truth serum?”

“My Lord—”

“Are you calling me a coward?”

“Not—”

“No one calls me a coward to my face! Bring it on!”

BANG! “Request approved! Mr. Black, while the Veritaserum is being retrieved, do you have any other questions for the witness?” Dumbledore inquired.

“Yes, My—”

“Then I suggest you ask him without further antagonizing him. This is your only warning!” The old wizard gave him a pointed look.

Chastised, Sirius nodded. “Understood, My Lord.” Turning back to the file in his hands, Sirius continued with his original line of questioning. “Mr. Rockwell, you said previously that the time stamps on these incident reports are accurate down to the second.”

“You know that’s right!” Rockwell replied, a little more guarded this time around, suspicious of where Sirius was taking this.

“Will you permit me to read a section of the report?”

Rockwell shrugged. “If you want.”

“Thank you.” The animagus turned towards the Wizengamot. “My Lords and Ladies, this is an excerpt from the police report Mr. Rockwell submitted regarding the alleged incident he described earlier involving Mr. Potter, aged seven, and a group of other young boys of similar ages. The alleged victim was a pregnant homeless woman in her mid-30’s who ended up in a coma and the baby dead.” Turning towards the file in his hand, he began to read, “‘At precisely 10:57PM, I placed Mr. Potter in handcuffs and put him in the back of the police car. My fellow officers doing the same to each of the boys in the gang.’ Does that sound correct, Mr. Rockwell?”

Not seeing any harm in answering that particular question, the police sergeant shrugged. “Yeah, that sounds about right. I had other officers with me at the time. They each took a boy in their possession.”

The animagus glanced down once again. “And it says here that you left the scene at precisely 11PM and arrived at the station to book him at precisely 11:45.”

A frown began forming on Rockwell’s face. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Did this alleged crime occur outside of your jurisdiction, Mr. Rockwell?” Sirius questioned.

“No! It was within our borough.”

“And how far would you say the crime occurred from your police station?”

Rockwell shrugged. “I don’t know. About three miles away?”

“Three miles!” Sirius smirked as he went to retrieve another folder from his table. Hermione quickly handed it to him, taking special care to point to a particular spot on the page. Sirius nodded. “It takes forty-five minutes to drive three miles to the police station from the scene?” The animagus questioned dubiously.

“Hey! I’m not the one on trial here! It’s not my fault there was street traffic!”

Sirius spun around and sent the witness an incredulous look. “Street traffic?! Street traffic at eleven o’clock at night?”

“Yeah!”

The animagus shook his head and turned down to the new file with a sigh. “Mr. Rockwell, are you aware that in the wizarding world, medical histories themselves contain time stamps?”

Rockwell froze for a fraction of a second and then gradually began to pale.

“And these medical histories can be quite extensive, you see, for every bump and bruise is recorded on these long pieces of parchment, along with the dates and times of their occurrences.” Sirius turned the file over and waved it around for Rockwell to see. “AND, should something odd-shaped create a bruise on a person’s body, the description of its shape will also show up on these records.”

A guard placed a glass of water in front of Rockwell and the man, in his nervousness, immediately took a sip, unaware that the glass contained a single drop of Veritaserum.

Sirius, however, knew of its contents and smirked internally, careful not to let the laughter show on his face. “Now…according to Mr. Potter’s most recent medical history, on the very night of that incident, between the times of 11:10PM and 11:40, a multitude of cuts and bruises appeared on young Mr. Potter’s body. The cuts appeared on the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet and are consistent with a military-grade knife, while the bruises on his legs and stomach are consistent with the shape and size of a police baton. In addition, there were rope-burns around his ankles, suggesting he was tied down as well as handcuffed, which you admitted to doing. Now…if you were really driving to the police station during that forty-five minute window, how did all these injuries manage to occur?”

Rockwell huffed and opened his mouth to reply, but then, unexpectedly, his mouth snapped shut. His eyes widened in surprise and he physically clamped a hand atop his mouth to prevent whatever he was going to say from spewing out. “Mwhawhawha!” Came the muffled response, garbled through the airtight gaps between his fingers.

Mercilessly, Sirius cupped a hand behind his ear and replied in a voice not entirely devoid of derision, “I’m sorry, Mr. Rockwell. I didn’t quite understand that. Could you repeat that, please?”

“MWHAWAHWAH!!!” The police officer replied, his muffled yell laced with frustration. The middle-aged cop was actually beginning to turn red in the face and, with an angry glare at Sirius, he stomped his feet against the floor like a child throwing a nasty tantrum.

“Is anything the matter, sir?” The animagus asked, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Ever so slowly, Rockwell’s hands reluctantly began moving away from his mouth, as if some invisible force was jerking at his wrists, but not without plenty of resistance from the stubborn police officer. “Be—Because—Be—” Now the words were in no way muffled and Rockwell’s voice could be heard loud and clear throughout the giant courtroom.

After allowing a small smirk to leak through his concerned façade, Sirius approached the witness stand with slow, predatory steps, making sure to stop just out of reach so that the man wouldn’t pummel him when he dropped his little bombshell. Clasping his hands behind his back, Sirius leaned over condescendingly and lowered his voice to a near whisper, taking care to meet the struggling man’s angry glare. “I feel it is my duty to inform you, Mr. Rockwell, that the water you just took a sip of contains a potion known to the wizarding world as Veritaserum.” All of a sudden, the animagus’ smirk melted into a full-scale, merciless grin. “As of thirty seconds ago, you have relinquished the ability to lie.”

“Be—Be—Because—I—” Rockwell’s face began turning crimson and he looked as if someone was choking him. His stomping foot stomped harder, and he shut his eyes in an effort to concentrate on not letting his secret out.

“Because you what, Mr. Rockwell?!” Sirius cried, pushing the struggling man off the brink.

“—be—be—BEAT HIM!!!” Rockwell screamed at the top of his lungs as the words were finally yanked from his lips.

Shocked whispers circulated about the courtroom. Harry’s face began to turn red, Smith buried his own face in his hands, and both of the Malfoys glared at their lawyer, looking absolutely incensed.

“You beat him.” Sirius started, his fun completely spent now that he had broken the crooked cop, and in its stead, white hot fury at his godson’s treatment took over him. “You beat a seven-year-old boy?” The coldness of his voice could have frozen the sun and the danger in his eyes could have killed ten times over.

Rockwell struggled to control his loose tongue, but it was no use. The serum had taken over. “Yes.”

“Why?!” Sirius boomed, getting in his face.

“In order to get him to take the blame for the beating of the homeless woman.”

“In order to get him to take the blame.” The animagus echoed with a snarl. “Whose blame were you trying to get him to take, Mr. Rockwell?”

The officer shook in his effort to keep his mouth shut, but it was all for naught. “MINE!!!” He screamed, loud and clear.

“Yours!” Sirius stuck a furious finger in his face. “So YOU beat a pregnant homeless woman into a coma, killed her unborn child, and pinned the crime on a group of seven-year-old INNOCENT homeless kids, beating one of them into confessing to be their ringleader!”

“They weren’t going to send him to jail anyway! The kid was seven! They were the perfect scapegoats!” Rockwell’s eyes grew to the widths of saucers and he clamped a hand over his mouth in surprise.

“But you delighted in watching them marked for life!” Sirius cried, his face twisted into a disgusted scowl.

Rockwell nodded reluctantly; and just as the animagus opened his mouth to blast him with yet another damaging accusation, a sick gaggle of giggles suddenly bubbled up to the surface, startling everyone into silence. “Yes…” The crooked cop cackled. “Yes, I did.” This time, the giggles took on a distinctly sinister tone. “They’re too pretty at that age. It’s either let the system mark them or…ha, ha, ha…mark them yourself!” Sirius felt like he was interrogating someone with a split personality, as Rockwell fixed him with a cocky grin and eyes that held just a bit of madness one moment, before quickly adopting a look of complete shock the next. And it continued like that for the better part of a minute—madness, shock, madness, shock, madness, shock, until finally, Rockwell’s hands decided to take matters into their own and his fingers soon found their way around his very neck.

The animagus’ hands balled into fists and it was at that point that Sirius decided to take Dumbledore’s earlier advice and step away before things got out of control. “My Lord, I respectfully request—”

BANG! “Aurors, take Mr. Rockwell into custody.” The Chief Warlock immediately signaled for the aurors to double-time it to the witness stand.

Thankfully, the guards were able to apprehend Rockwell before he could even make it out of his seat. The babbling, cackling cop twitched in their collective grasp as they dragged him out of the courtroom. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!” He hollered at the top of his lungs, his bloodshot eyes directed towards the Malfoy table. One second and two twitches later, the madness returned and out popped a song. “Oh, they’re pretty…oh so pretty…” Twitch. “WHERE’S MY MONEY, MALFOY!!! YOU PROMISED ME A PAYDAY!!!” Twitch. “They’re so pretty…oh, so pretty!”

Whispers coursed through the room once again as the doors closed behind a clearly insane Rockwell. Smith had his face buried in his hands, Draco was glaring at him while Lucius slowly began to pale, and Harry was slumped over his own table with his hands clasped behind his neck. His face was turning a bright red and Ginny was rubbing his back in support.

“No further questions, My Lord.” Sirius muttered, giving the Wizengamot a short bow. Upon retaking his seat, he gave his godson’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

As soon as Dumbledore was able to regain control of his courtroom, he cleared his throat and quickly pushed forward. “Moving on! Mr. Smith, your party has the floor.”

Sirius watched as Smith tugged at his lapels nervously. “Um…” he cleared his throat, “…we have no further witnesses, My Lord.”

The Chief Warlock sighed. “Very well. Mr. Black, do you have further witnesses?”

The pseudo-lawyer, unlike the real lawyer, climbed to his feet before addressing the court. “Yes, My Lord.”

“Then proceed, if you will.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

The animagus took a deep breath, steeling himself for his next witness. This was going to be a doozy. “We would like to call to the stand Master Healer Casey House from St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.”

Another round of whispers coursed the room as a surly-looking woman stood up at the back of the courtroom and began making her way towards the witness stand.

“Are you sure about this, Padfoot?” Harry whispered next to him.

“You yourself suggested it, Pup.” Sirius replied, giving his godson a half-reassuring, half-cocky smile as he picked up a folder. “Trust me. You gave me good notes. I got this.”

As soon as the healer was situated in the witness stand, Sirius wasted no time in questioning her. “Madame, for the sake of record, would you kindly state your name and profession?”

House wore a scowl and she glared at the animagus as she replied in a bored voice, “Casey House, Master Healer, St. Mungo’s.”

“Thank you. Now…Master Healer House, would you please state for the Wizengamot what alcoholism is? What is its definition?”

House sighed. “Alcoholism, or alcohol addiction, to put it in layman’s terms is the compulsive need to consume alcohol. It’s when a person has reached a point where they begin to crave alcohol after they have not had it for a certain amount of time, usually short. And this is no light addiction, mind you!” She emphasized with a raised finger, “It’s a drug addiction! Alcohol is a real drug! Typically, you can single out alcoholics by their behavior. The alcohol tends to interfere with their physical and mental health. They’ll also be having trouble with their social life, family life, job responsibilities, and that sort.”

“I see.” Sirius nodded. “And the effects of alcohol addiction?”

The Master Healer narrowed her eyes in annoyance. “Other than the ones I just mentioned?!” She hollered.

The animagus brushed off her attitude with a smile. “If you would be so kind.”

House rolled her eyes and heaved a great sigh. “Alcoholics tend to have delayed motor skills, they will have decreased ability in being able to think clearly, their judgment would be impaired—”

“So, would you consider these the signs and symptoms of alcoholism, Master Healer?”

“Duh!” The healer muttered under her breath. Half the courtroom had to quickly suppress a giggle. “If you want to look at it that way, yes!”

“Interesting. Are there other signs and symptoms, Master—”

“There’s a whole sh—” House paused suddenly, her eyes darting towards the multitude of judges in the stands. Everyone knew of the curse word that nearly escaped her lips. “—lot…There’s a whole lot of symptoms of alcoholism.”

“If you would be so kind as to name a few more, please?” Sirius continued, himself suppressing the urge to chuckle.

The Master Healer looked bothered. “Abdominal pain, confusion, drinking alone, episodes of violence while intoxicated, hostility when being confronted about the issue.” As she ticked the symptoms off on her fingers, House studied Draco Malfoy’s maddening face.

“If it pleases the court, I would like to have your expert opinion on whether or not those descriptions fit Draco Malfoy.”

As if on cue, the teen in question instantly jumped to his feet. “I will not stand for this! I am not having myself diagnosed here and now!” He screamed.

Sirius allowed himself a tiny smile and, without missing a beat, executed a flawless about-face to confront his cousin. “I had a feeling you’d say that, so I had your most recent medical records subpoenaed.” The animagus quickly passed the file folder in his hands over to the irritated master healer. “Healer House?”

“I did not agree to this!” Malfoy shot back.

“This is evidence, Mr. Mal—”

“Shut up, Black!” The teen snapped.

“Draco!” Lucius exclaimed.

“Mr. Malfoy, this is a courtroom. I expect a certain level of decorum!” Dumbledore chastised the blonde boy.

“This is an invasion of my privacy!”

Sirius narrowed his eyes at his cousin. “Mr. Malfoy, you are being accused of being an alcoholic and when evidence is presented that could possibly refute that claim, you want to have it withheld?”

“You know bloody well what it’s going to say, Black!”

“Mr. Malfoy!”

“Oh, so is that a confession then?” Sirius challenged, taking a threatening step towards the teen.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Mr. Malfoy, you will take your seat immediately or I will hold you in contempt!” Dumbledore boomed, pointing his gavel at the angry blonde. For once, the stubborn Malfoy did was he was told, but not without some coaxing from his father and an angry glare at the Chief Warlock himself.

Dumbledore then turned his attention towards Sirius, “Mr. Black, I will not have confrontations of that sort in this courtroom. Is that understood?”

The animagus tore his gaze away from the Malfoys and acknowledged the reprimand with a respectful nod. “Yes, My Lord. I apologize.”

“Please continue, Healer House.” The Chief Warlock bid the witness.

The Master Healer snapped the folder shut and pointed it at Draco. “I can tell you all right now, even without having to read this file, that the boy’s an alcoholic. Look at his hands!” Almost everyone in the courtroom, including all the members of the Wizengamot, leaned over to try to get a good look at the blonde teen’s hands, but Draco had the sense to hide them away almost immediately. “They’re trembling! That’s known as the shakes! Delerium tremens. And just look at his appearance. The boy’s at least five pounds underweight. His eyes are bloodshot, and they’ve been twitching around along with his ears every now and then, which, to me, indicates psychosis, and he’s sweating! How long’s it been since your last drink, kid? Twenty-four hours? Thirty-six?!”

“SHUT UP!!!” Malfoy cried. Jumping out of his seat and over the table, he lunged at the Master Healer. The aurors were all over him in seconds. “SHUT UP!!! I AM NOT AN ALCOHOLIC!!! I’M NOT!!!” The teen’s voice began to grow hoarse from all the screaming and he looked on the verge of tears. “Get off me! SHUT UP!!!”

“Mr. Malfoy—”

Before anyone could blink, Malfoy whipped his wand out of his walking stick and pointed it at the healer.

“LOOK OUT!”

“Mr. Malfoy!”

“SEDACIO!!!” House hissed, pointing a finger at the thrashing teen.

The effect of the spell was immediate. Draco went limp in the aurors’ arms and his wand clattered to the ground. He was completely unconscious.

“What?!” House replied defensively, as almost everyone in the room sent her a strange look. “That’s the only spell I’ve managed to master wandlessly, which has come in handy an unbelievable amount of times at the hospital, so don’t look at me like that. I’ve put him under sedation for now. If anyone really cares about that kid, they’ll volunteer to be his guardian through his detox.” The master healer almost immediately turned her chilly glare towards Lucius Malfoy, who purposefully turned his head away during his son’s loss of control.

“Take young Mr. Malfoy to a holding cell.” Dumbledore ordered the aurors before turning towards the courtroom audience. “I’d like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that wands are strictly forbidden inside this courtroom. The only wands permitted in this room are the ones carried by the security aurors. All other wands are strictly prohibited. That being said,” The Chief Warlock looked over the rims of his glasses to fix the elder Malfoy with a meaningful glare. “I will give you one last chance, Mr. Malfoy, to relinquish…yours.” His hard eyes then locked onto the silver head of the walking stick leaning against the elder Malfoy’s right leg.

An auror stepped up just beside Lucius, prepared to snatch away the hidden wand should Dumbledore give the word. The blonde peered at the guard out of the corner of his eye, his lips turned up in pure disdain. The glare then locked onto the Chief Warlock himself and the two had a silent face-off with one another, even as Lucius ever-so-slowly surrendered his walking stick to the auror.

As soon as the potential weapon was secure, Dumbledore ended the face-off to rebuke the stressed-out lawyer next to the stubborn blonde. “Any more blatant disregards of court order from your table, Mr. Smith, and I will have both your clients expelled from this courtroom for the duration of the hearing. Is that understood?!”

“Yes, My Lord! Apologies.” Smith tried to whisper in Lucius’ ear, but the man pushed him away none-too-gently.

Harry thought he heard something along the lines of, “Shut up, you imbecile!” before the lawyer’s face began to redden.

“Mr. Black, you may proceed.”

“Oh, I think I’ve made my point quite plainly, My Lord.” Sirius started, moving from where he had stationed himself on the sidelines, “We have expert opinion and a fine example of my client’s allegation regarding Mr. Malfoy’s alcohol addiction. I’m curious. One last thing, Master Healer…” He turned towards House and cocked his head in mock curiosity, “how long would you say Mr. Malfoy has been addicted to alcohol?”

The Master Healer sighed and flipped through the pages of the medical file in her hands, scanning each page with only a modicum of interest. “I would stay fourteen. Give or take three months.”

“Since he was fourteen years of age?”

House grunted in affirmation. “That’s when we start seeing dangerous numbers for his liver, according to this report.” The healer slammed the folder shut and threw it back at Sirius, who nearly tripped over himself in his effort to catch it. “You know, if that kid doesn’t find someone to help him soon, he’ll be addicted for life, and watch how quickly he’ll kill himself and everyone around him then.”

The animagus cleared his throat and nodded. “Right. Thank you, my lady.” After adjusting his suit, he turned back to Dumbledore. “No further questions, My Lord.” He gestured at Smith on his way back to his seat. “Your witness.”

The supposedly experienced lawyer actually looked a bit nervous as he approached the witness stand. “Healer House, would you please state for the Wizengamot how long you have spent as Master Healer—”

House immediately took offense, “Look, bub!” She pointed an angry finger at Smith, “If you are about to question my competency, you better shut your mouth! Do you know how many years I’ve worked for St. Mungo’s?! Do you know how many years, in general, I’ve been a healer?! MY ENTIRE LIFE! Have you ever heard of the Curse of the Damned? Have you?! Huh?! Do you know how fast my team and I had to work to save those people from that confounded curse?! Around the clock! We came up with a counter-curse in half-a-day! That is record time, mind you! And we managed to keep a lot of them alive for five months until Mr. Potter walked in with the second half of the cure. I’d pay to see you do that, bub!” Her upper lip turned in disgust as she studied him up and down, “You and your fancy suit and blinding smile. You call yourself a lawyer?! You better ask your law school for a refund because they did a piss-poor job of training you. Only one witness? Really?! Mr. Black over there’s got an entire lineup of witnesses and you come up with one.” She made a noise of disapproval, “Anyone who knows what to look for can diagnose that kid. I had him pegged as an alkie the moment I caught sight of him. It’s the details, Mr. Smith, that are what give one away.” She paused as she narrowed her eyes at him, “Like you, for example. You like to bet, and you like to bet big. And I don’t need to ask if I’m right because I can tell by the look on your face that I am. How do I know that? Because I can see all your little details, Mr. Smith—the ones you’re trying to hide from everyone else—and they tell me a story. So you better think twice about calling my competency into question!”

It was a whole sixty seconds before Smith could even begin to stutter a reply to that particular dressing down. The entire room watched in shocked silence as he loosened the top of his tie and cleared his throat shakily. “Right. Ahem!” Smith gave the healer a token smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, before turning that same smile on Dumbledore. “No further questions, My Lord.”

Malfoy glared daggers at him as he found his seat once more, but Smith pretended to not notice it at all.

“Right. Thank you, Master Healer House.” Dumbledore gave the woman a nod of gratitude. “You may step down now.”

The healer grunted in annoyance and wasted no time in leaving both the witness stand and the courtroom altogether.

“Mr. Black, the floor’s all yours.”

Sirius snorted under his breath and smiled internally. “Thank you, My Lord.”

“Come now, Severus. Everything’s going to turn out just fine. You’ll see!” Hestia sat the baby down on the carpet and showed him the assortment of toys Harry and Ginny brought for him that morning. “All will be well.”

Sev whimpered and completely ignored all his other toys in favor of the one toy he loved the most. Reaching up to Hestia, he opened and closed his hands in plea. “Simba…” he cried in a teary voice.

Hestia sighed. “Here we are.” She replied with a gentle smile as she handed him his stuffed lion cub. The infant immediately cradled it against his chest.

All of a sudden, the door to the courtroom creaked open and Severus looked towards the noise with hope-filled eyes. However, when he saw a strange balding man enter the room, he frowned in disappointment and went back to cuddling his lion.

“Come on, Sev, cheer up!” Hestia crooned, rubbing smooth circles into his back.

“Hello there!” The balding man greeted with a cheerful smile and an even more cheerful voice. “My name is Dr. Christopher Pendleton. I am a mind healer for St. Mungo’s and I have a muggle doctoral degree in Clinical Psychology with an emphasis on Child Psychology.” He and Hestia immediately shook hands. “I have been assigned to this case as the assessing mind healer.”

“Oh! Nice to meet you! I’m Hestia Jones, and this handsome young man,” she ran her fingers through Sev’s baby hair, which didn’t appear to bother the infant at all, “is Severus Snape.”

Sev instantly looked up to meet the mind healer’s eyes, “Wamp mummy amp daddy!” he snapped.

“Severus, please? Harry and Ginny wouldn’t want you to be rude to the nice mind healer, would they?” Hestia rebuked softly.

The infant scowled at her for a second before turning back to face the mind healer. “Hi!” He barked and then promptly turned back to his toys. Stupid mind healer!

Pendleton chuckled. “It’s alright, Hestia. I get that reaction a lot in my line of work.” The middle aged man crouched down next to Severus and made sure to keep the friendly smile on his face. “May I join you?”

The infant shrugged, preferring to reach for his letter puzzle rather than provide a verbal answer.

“So…Hestia tells me you’re in full possession of all your faculties.”

Sev gave the mind healer a funny look. The man had just used a big word with him. Several big words, actually! “Hmm…” he grunted curiously. Perhaps this particular mind healer was already on his side and he just needed to convince the man to stay on his side! Maybe this interview wasn’t going to be as irritating as he thought it would be. “Hab mem-wies oh BICK Seb.” He babbled, pointing to the back of his head. “BICK Seb hewe!” He then pointed to his forehead. “Hewe…me.” The finger returned to the back of his head once again. “But hewe…BICK Seb…but…mem-wies owy.”

Pendleton looked awed. He nodded and then turned to Hestia with a big smile. “Well! I take that as a complete yes!”

Hestia squealed in delight and Severus grinned. He liked this mind healer!

“Please state your name and profession for the record, sir.” Sirius said, approaching the witness stand with a folder in hand.

“Ehm… Anthony Lawson, Mind Healer, private practice.” A plump, nicely-dressed, balding man replied into the microphone.

Lucius looked confused.

“And how long have you been working with young Mr. Malfoy, sir?”

“I beg your pardon?!” Malfoy snapped, insulted at their implication that his son was seeing a mind healer.

Dumbledore pursed his lips together in annoyance and turned towards the Malfoy table. “Mr. Smith!”

“Yes, My Lord. Apologies!” The barrister immediately began whispering in Malfoy’s ear.

Sirius took it upon himself to elaborate. “For the record, Mr. Lawson has been young Draco Malfoy’s mind healer for the last…”

“Five to six years, sir.”

Lucius looked like he was barely keeping himself in check.

“Would you please tell the Wizengamot why Mrs. Malfoy hired you in the first place?”

“She was worried for her son. She thought his father’s influence was damaging him. He wasn’t turning out to be the young man she would have liked him to be. Namely, she was worried about how he tended to treat young women.”

Sirius cocked an eyebrow at him. “How is that, sir?”

The mind healer sighed. “Well…he saw them more as objects rather than individuals. He sought to control them rather than treat them with equality and respect. She claimed his father acted that way, and she didn’t want him to turn out like his father.”

“I see…And…Has young Draco progressed over the course of the five or six years you have treated him? In your opinion?”

Lawson’s sigh, this time, was a sad one. His head hung slightly and his shoulders sagged. He looked disappointed with himself. “Unfortunately not. Everything I try to do to help him gets undone the moment he leaves my office and is once again within his father’s sphere of influence.”

Lucius looked murderous.

“Alright, Severus, bear with me for a few minutes. I want to assess your state-of-mind.” Pendleton pulled a clipboard and quill out of his satchel and immediately began scribbling. “Alright. First of all, let me explain what I’m doing.” He made sure to meet both Hestia’s and Severus’ eyes before he began his explanation. “It is my belief that what has affected you, aside from the obvious…ehm…reduction in height, is a form of amnesia. Now, there are three types of memory—the first is semantic memory, associated with general knowledge and facts. That’s the first thing I’m going to test, if you will allow me.”

Severus stared at the mind healer for a long while, assessing him internally, before turning to Hestia. His social worker nodded at him encouragingly and Sev gave in with a sigh. He nodded at Pendleton.

“Thank you.” The balding man replied. “Now, I fear this may be the most difficult of the three to pin down precisely. It appears you can understand us perfectly well, so that’s a good sign. Ehm…now for…the rest…” Pendleton spied Sev’s letter puzzle amongst his toys and his eyes lit up in inspiration. “Ah! Okay…” Pulling the letter puzzle over to him, he methodically picked out three letters and spelled out a word for Severus. “Can you read this word for me, please?”

The infant furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he peered down at the grouping of letters. “Cat” he replied dully.

Pendleton beamed at him. “Excellent! ” Turning back to the puzzle, he took each of the letters from the word and scrambled them up with the rest of the puzzle. “Now…can you spell ‘cat’ for me?”

Severus grinned. He had played this game before! Peering at the mass of letters before him, he immediately began reaching for the first letter of the word.

“Out loud, please.” The good doctor clarified.

The infant froze. Looking up at the mind healer with wide eyes, he opened his mouth to reply, but found, to his surprise, that he couldn’t. “Um…”

Pendleton waited patiently for a minute or two. “It’s alright if you can’t at the moment.” He reassured Sev with a kind smile. Picking a single letter out of the pile, he held it up for Sev to see. “What sound does this letter make?”

“ttttt!” The infant replied with a proud grin.

“Very good!” Pendleton chuckled, “And…what’s its name?”

Sev thought about it for a second. He knew this, didn’t he? He usually played the letter game with Harry and Ginny. He was sure he knew the name of this letter! “Uh…fowgop.”

Pendleton decided to try to help him out. “Could it be ‘See’?” Sev shook his head. He was sure it wasn’t that. “How about ‘Ehn’?” Sev shook his head again “Is it ‘Tee’?”

The infant’s eyes immediately brightened up. “Yeah!” He cheered, “‘Tee’!”

The mind healer exchanged a laugh with Hestia. “Very good.” He jotted something down in his notepad. “I’m curious. Can you recite your alphabet for me?”

Sev nodded. “Ah…uh…Buh…” The infant’s face slowly fell as the seconds ticked by and his brain refused to come up with the next letter in the sequence.

“Is there something wrong, Doctor?” Hestia questioned worriedly. Seeing Severus struggle with the alphabet was a bit disconcerting for her.

“Hmm? Oh no, I was actually expecting this.” Pendleton replied, scribbling away on his clipboard as he went on. “Well…in truth, I was expecting him to be a little less advanced than he is right now, actually. Severus?” The infant’s eyes focused on him. “It’s alright if you can’t recite it, child. You were only able to partially retain your semantic memory from before, which is perfectly fine. I’m wondering…do Harry and Ginny read to you regularly, my boy?”

Sev grinned. “Ah migh.”

“At night?”

“Harry and Ginny read him stories every night before they put him to bed.” Hestia clarified.

“Hmm…” The mind healer nodded. “Interesting! Severus, tell me—do they point to the words while they read?”

“Uh-huh!” The infant nodded with enthusiasm. Oh, how he missed storytime!

“That explains it.” The balding man chuckled as he returned to his clipboard. “Excellent!”

“Um…” Hestia interrupted hesitantly, “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand, healer. He can read but he can’t spell?”

Pendleton gave her an understanding smile. “Sort of. It’s a lot like recognizing logos, you see.” He began gesturing with his hands. “Severus recognizes a particular formation of letters and his brain associates that particular formation with a specific sound. For example, if I was to show you the logo for Gladrags Wizardwear, you would be able to name the company, would you not?” Hestia nodded. “Right. Now tell me—can you name the specific sections of their logo?”

The social worker looked confused. “How do you mean?”

“Exactly that. If I pointed to a formation on the right side of the logo, would you be able to put a name to it?”

“Well…no.” She shook her head. “It’s just a logo. As a whole, it stands for a particular company.”

“Exactly!” Pendleton pointed at her with an excited smile. “And it’s the same principle here. Severus recognizes the formation of letters—C-A-T, for example— as a whole, and his mind associates that with the sound, ‘cat’.” He explained. “His mind associates the letter C with the sound that it makes when pronounced. And it is my belief that his current semantic memory is the byproduct of two phenomena—first,” he ticked them off on his fingers, “some left-over semantic memory from his former life, and second, and most important, the things he has picked up from his nightly readings with Harry and Ginny.”

“So…Harry and Ginny’s reading to him every night has, essentially, taught him how to read again?”

The mind healer nodded, looking proud of her comprehension of the subject-matter. “Exactly!” His gaze returned to the curious infant. “Exactly. Now…the second type of memory is called Procedural Memory, also known as Muscle Memory.” He explained, garnering Sev’s full attention. “It pertains to the behaviors we’ve repeated so often that we’ve formed neural pathways for them in our minds. This should be quick to assess. Tell me…were you able to walk directly after the aging incident?” The infant shook his head with wide eyes. “You’ve had to relearn it, didn’t you?” The middle-aged man asked knowingly. Severus nodded this time. “How was that, by the way?” He asked as he scribbled something on his clipboard.

The baby immediately scowled and stuck out his tongue in disgust. Bffffffft!

“Oh, come on! I’m sure it was fun at some points, eh?” The tongue made its way back inside his mouth, but the disgusted look never quite went away. Pendleton chuckled. “Alright. One final question, Severus. The third type of memory is called Episodic Memory. This is what we normally associate with memory. It’s the things that happened to us in our lives and—” The infant began nodding before he could even finish his sentence. “…obviously that’s very much intact.” Pendleton finished, slightly amused.

Sev pointed to the back of his head. “BICK Seb!”

Both Pendleton and Hestia cracked a smile as the former scribbled on his clipboard. “Big Sev! Alright!”

“Lucius Malfoy claims to have no knowledge of you or recollection of you ever working with his son before.” Smith argued, fixing the mind healer on the stand with a penetrating stare.

“His mother hired me.” The man answered coolly. “Our sessions were supposed to remain secret from his father.”

“Did young Mr. Malfoy ever appear to consent to these alleged sessions?”

“No, he never wanted them.”

“Then why hadn’t he just complained to his father about them?” Smith pushed, determined to trap this witness and not be undone by an ex-convict who had not even attended law school. “Why had he never mentioned them to him before? You claim to have worked with him for years.”

“You’ll have to understand his mindset, sir.” Lawson argued in return. “Revealing to his father that he was seeing a mind healer would have been perceived as weak, and thus for him, humiliating.”

Smith growled under his breath and took a step back to calm himself. “I see. And…when did these alleged sessions take place?”

“They usually occurred on Saturday evenings.” Draco’s mind healer explained. “Lucius Malfoy would regularly drink at a colleague’s house around five in the evening and wouldn’t return until late. It was rare that he ever cancelled, thus his mother had me come over and conduct sessions in his room. When Mr. Malfoy was at Hogwarts during the school year, she arranged for him to come home for a few hours every Saturday. That was when we would have the sessions.”

“And Lucius Malfoy never suspected any of this?” Smith raised a dubious eyebrow at the man.

Lawson shook his head and shrugged. “Not to my knowledge, no.”

Smith scoffed and gave the mind healer a brief, fake-sounding laugh. “You’ll forgive me, sir, but it’s a bit hard to believe these ‘secret’,” he drew quotation marks in the air, “sessions actually existed. I mean—”

“Well…you can ask Mr. Black, if you want proof.” Lawson replied with mild defensiveness, not seeing the humor in this situation. “He subpoenaed our copies of the receipts for the sessions, which his mother paid for, as well as copies of my notes from Draco’s patient file, dating back five years or so.”

The smile on Smith’s face immediately melted off.

There was a low shuffling noise as everyone in the room turned towards Sirius. The animagus climbed to his feet, managing to look both bashful and smug at the same time. “Exhibit E, My Lords and Ladies.” As he retook his seat, the smug smile won over the bashful blush.

Smith cringed.

“Now I want to assess your magical abilities,” Pendleton started, after having finished a long bout of scribbling on his assessment sheet, “just to see if I actually have to take them into consideration when making my final—”

Before the mind healer could even finish his sentence, Severus began levitating some of the letters from his puzzle, managing to keep them all hovering around the vicinity of the good doctor’s face.

Pendleton was shocked speechless. He simply stared at the floating letters, wide-eyed, before his gaze moved onto Sev’s pointed finger. The infant simply stared back at him innocently.

Hestia didn’t know what to make of the situation. Her gaze moved from Pendleton to Severus and back.

The mind healer cleared his throat. “Well…obviously I do!” He scrambled for his clipboard and quill. “Well…I…wow…I didn’t expect that.” He looked astounded as he began scribbling furiously on his clipboard.

“What’s wrong, Doctor?” Hestia asked upon catching Sev’s worried look.

Pendleton shook his head. “No! Ahem!” He gave them a reassuring smile in order to calm them. “No, no, nothing’s wrong!” The mind healer grinned goofily at the parchment. “This is quite incredible, actually!”

Sev, worried about the balding man’s reaction, attempted to defend himself. “Daddy teets me!”

Pendleton’s eyes grew to the widths of saucers and he fixed the infant with look of surprise over the edge of his clipboard. “Harry taught you that?!”

“Daddy teets me see auwa!” Sev explained.

“See…what? I’m sorry?” Pendleton turned to Hestia in confusion.

“Both Harry and Ginny have the ability to sense magical auras, and—”

Pendleton nodded and grinned. “Ah! Okay, okay! I see…So…alright…” He went back to his scribbling, addressing Severus as he wrote. “Tell me, Severus…What do you think of anything with a dark aura?”

Bffffffffffffffft!!!

Severus replied with a scowl.

Pendleton imitated the raspberries with a smirk. “Indeed.”

“Doctor?” Hestia asked in confusion.

“He’s very far advanced in magical ability!” The mind healer replied. “Very far!”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” The social worker asked, not sure what to make of it.

For the first time in a while, Pendleton paused in his writing and turned towards Hestia. He wasn’t grinning so much this time. “Well…that really depends on who raises him, doesn’t it?”

“Could you explain to the court just why your services were needed, Mr. Moody?” Sirius opened, slowly pacing before the witness stand.

“When Mr. Potter invoked the right of certus, he made a counter-claim stating that Draco Malfoy was an alcoholic and that the kid would not be safe with him.” The auror explained. “However, because Mr. Potter did not have definitive proof with him at the time, and the child had no guardian, Miss Jones awarded Mr. Malfoy custody but with the condition that I come along and observe Mr. Malfoy with the child.”

“And what was it that you actually observed, sir?” The animagus asked, faking mild curiosity.

“I’ll tell you what I observed—” Moody exclaimed, suddenly agitated, “NOTHING!”

“Could you…elaborate on that a little more, please?” Sirius replied coolly.

“Malfoy never once stepped foot inside that room.” The auror explained with a scowl. “The kid was left in his crib the entire week! Draco Malfoy never once stepped in to change him or feed him or…talk to him. There was NO interaction with him whatsoever! If it wasn’t for the two house elves I brought with me during my stay, that kid would not have been feed nor had his nappy changed the entire week!”

Murmurs instantly circulated around the room. Dumbledore banged his gavel to try to quiet them, while Malfoy looked like he could care less about any of the hearsay.

“So…Draco Malfoy made no interactions with Severus at all?” Sirius continued, faking surprise.

Moody began to shake his head, but then stopped suddenly. “Well there was once…” The room suddenly fell silent at the new revelation, with more than a few faces expressing surprise. “I had stepped out of the room to stop Lucius Malfoy from beating his wife—”

“That is preposterous!” Lucius exclaimed, jumping to his feet in anger.

BANG!

“Mr. Smith, I have warned you and your clients several times now. My patience has run out. Aurors!” Dumbledore boomed, putting his foot down on all the unnecessary interruptions.

“I am not leaving this room!” Lucius snapped in return, his nostrils flaring.

“Would you prefer a holding cell then, sir?” Dumbledore shot back.

More than a few people—Harry’s table included—widened their eyes at the normally level-headed headmaster’s response.

The elder Malfoy glared daggers at Dumbledore. The look on his face became positively murderous and Harry was sure that he would’ve attacked the Chief Warlock by then if he only had possession of his wand. Yet the showdown was never meant to be, and after a short eternity of glaring, Lucius Malfoy straightened his robes, pulled himself up to full height, turned on his heel and, in usual Malfoy style, led the aurors out of the courtroom as opposed to the other way around.

“Thank you.” Dumbledore murmured under his breath as soon as the courtroom doors slammed behind Malfoy. “Mr. Moody, you may continue.” He nodded at the auror.

“Like I was saying,” Moody growled, highly annoyed at being interrupted by an adult-sized infant, “I had run out of the room to stop Lucius Malfoy from beating his wife. When I returned, I found the room locked. Apparently, from what my two house elves told me, Draco Malfoy had tried to come in and hit Severus with his walking cane. He had also backhanded that lady friend of his seconds before as well.” There was a low shuffling noise as audience members began whispering in each other’s ears. “Anyway, he was clearly intoxicated so they expelled him from the room before he could hurt the kid and locked the door behind him.”

“Let me get this straight.” Sirius said, pausing before the witness stand. “Mr. Malfoy physically attacked a twelve-month-old infant? With a cane?”

“Yes.”

“And this attack…that was the only time Draco Malfoy was in the room?”

“My Lord, Mr. Black is leading the witness!” Smith objected, jumping to his feet and pointing at his courtroom rival.

Moody growled and banged his fist against the bench. “Hey! NO ONE leads me! I said it before and I’ll say it again—that was the only time Draco Malfoy stepped foot in that room. All the other times I interacted with him, they were in the midst of him beating his girlfriend Astoria Greengrass!”

The whispers immediately increased in volume and Dumbledore gave his sound block a few whacks with his gavel in an effort to douse the fire before it grew to a raging inferno. “Mr. Black, I would reword the rest of my questions if I were you!” He rebuked Sirius sharply.

“Understood, My Lord.” The animagus nodded. “One more question, Mr. Moody. Was there any other reason Miss Jones selected you to be the representative for the Ministry of Magic in Malfoy Manor?”

“As a matter of fact, there is.” The head of the Auror Department signaled to one of his men at the back of the room. A guard carrying a briefcase immediately began marching towards the front of the courtroom. “The Auror department had received multiple anonymous tips over the past few months that lead us to believe that Lucius Malfoy was harboring most, if not all, of the Death Eaters still-at-large in his residence. I had mentioned this to Miss Jones in passing, and it is my belief that when she appointed me as representative, she had that little fact at the back of her mind.” The security auror placed the briefcase atop the clerk’s desk and Martha quickly opened it to inspect its contents. Everyone watched as a large stack of file folders, filled with parchment, was pulled from the case. “She placed me in a unique position. My magical eye could see through walls. Thus, I had the ability to confirm or refute those claims of criminal activity.”

“And what did you observe, sir?”

“Every single wanted Death Eater was in that very house!” He barked as he watched Martha pass the entire stack up to Dumbledore. “Can you imagine?! What would have happened if you would have left the kid there by his lonesome?!”

“Every single wanted Death Eater, sir?” Sirius asked, genuinely surprised.

“When Malfoy lowered his wards to deliver Severus to Miss Jones this morning, I had a team of disillusioned aurors there hovering above her.” Moody explained. “It was a strike team—my best and my quietest.” He gave his trainee a smug smile. “Unbeknownst to the two Malfoys who are no longer in this room, their house was raided this morning. The remaining twenty-three Death Eaters who were at large are now in custody, as is a large stack of contraband from the residence. All in all, compared to the rest of the week, I had a great morning!”

Chuckles quickly circled the room and Sirius himself had to work really hard to maintain his professional front.

“Thank you, sir! No further questions, My Lord.” The animagus gave both Dumbledore and his boss a short nod before turning on his heel and marching back to his seat.

“What she just handed you there, sir, are my daily reports on the care of the child.” Mad-Eye explained, turning towards Dumbledore and lowering his voice somewhat. “They’re documented proof of neglect, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr. Moody.” The Chief Warlock nodded, passing the excess folders around to his colleagues on the benches. “Mr. Smith, the floor is yours!”

“Alright, my boy…” Pendleton resumed, as soon as he had finished a particularly lengthy bout of writing, “here comes the question of the hour, and you can take as long to answer as you want: Whom do you want to live with and why?”

Before the man could even finish his question, Severus screamed at the top of his lungs, “MUMMY AMP DADDY!!!”

The mind healer chuckled and briefly scribbled something on his clipboard. “I guess I don’t have to ask ‘Mummy and Daddy’ means Harry and Ginny, do I?”

“UH-HUH!!!” Sev screamed once again, accompanying his reply with enthusiastic nods.

Hestia laughed at her charge’s excitement. “Oh, that’s a definite ‘yes’.”

“Any particular reason you’re choosing them, Severus?” Pendleton asked offhandedly.

“Me wub dem!” The infant replied with a grin.

Hestia gasped and clutched at her chest. When Pendleton looked at her for clarification, she repeated the words in awe, “I love them.” It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard! And Severus had said it was such assuredness and joy. There was also a tiny bit of surprise on his little face, and the social worker knew this must’ve been the first time he’d ever said the words out loud.

Pendleton, however, didn’t seem to notice, as he just kept on scribbling along on his clipboard. “Good! Good! Excellent! Any other reason?”

Sev graced the good mind healer with a look of confusion. “Wha uhber wee-som?” He asked with genuine curiosity.

For the second time that day, Pendleton froze in surprise and simply stared at the tip of his unmoving quill with wide eyes. The infant’s reply had floored him. His gaze slowly moved upward, past the edges of his clipboard, to study Severus with nothing less than quiet awe. Out of the mouths of babes oft times come gems.

With a tiny smile on his lips, he replied, “What other reason, indeed?”

“Thank, My Lord.” Smith nodded, standing from his seat and buttoning his jacket once again. “Mr. Moody…did you ever witness first-hand Mr. Malfoy physically hit the child?”

“No, I sai—”

“Did you ever witness first-hand Mr. Malfoy mistreat the child?”

“Other than the fact he never interacted with the kid at all?! Which is clear evidence of neglect, mind you!” The auror snapped, irritated that the arrogant lawyer had interrupted him in the middle of his reply.

“So…just to be clear, you never saw Mr. Malfoy with the child at all?”

“We clarified that three times already, thank you very much!” Moody growled.

Dumbledore, ever the diplomat, discreetly tried to calm his friend’s temper. “Mr. Moody, please—”

“No, Albus, I’m not going to sit here and answer the same question ten times over!” The stubborn auror argued.

“I’m merely establishing that my client is clearly not abusive—”

“I just told you—”

“Your house elves, Mr. Moody?!” Smith cut in, getting in Moody’s face. “You never see Draco Malfoy first-hand enter the room at all over the course of the week, and you merely reiterate this story your two house elves told you that may or may not have taken place.”

“Are you calling me a liar, sir?!” The auror snapped, incensed by the implication.

“Not at all, sir. I am merely expressing a bit of doubt that the incident that allegedly took place involving my client actually…well…took place.”

“Look, son!” Moody pointed an angry finger at Smith. “I stopped Draco Malfoy from beating his girlfriend twice in seven days! I’ve got insurmountable evidence that he is guilty of rape, assault and battery. I can recount my story under Veritaserum, if need be. Or you can take my memories and view them in a pensieve, if you wish. That boy can’t even take care of himself, as you clearly saw earlier, much less another human being! Thus, regardless of whether that incident involving your client actually existed or not—AND I ASSURE YOU IT DID—I would strongly recommend against placing that kid in Malfoy’s care anyway, given the evidence against him!”

Smith cleared his throat and turned away from Moody with a scowl. “Of course, sir.” He replied dubiously.

“Well…I think I made my final assessment.” Pendleton declared, finally throwing down his quill and giving his hand a small shake.

“And…?” Hestia asked, looking for all the world like she was sitting on pins and needles.

The mind healer smiled warmly at her. “He’ll be going back to Harry and Ginny.”

Hestia sighed in relief as Severus squealed in delight. Pendleton, for his part, merely chuckled. “They’re a happy couple, very stable. They have the right facilities to raise a child. And you, young man, show great potential for being just as good of a wizard as, if not better than, your father!” The mind healer poked the grinning infant in the belly, making him squeal in laughter. “It’s very good that Harry has taught him some introductory magic.” He said to Hestia. “And there is discipline in the house, correct?”

A raised eyebrow at Severus and the infant’s resulting scowl and groan told him everything he needed to know. Pendleton snorted at the typical childish reaction.

“There is discipline in the house, indeed.” Hestia replied. “Corner times, groundings, an occasional pat on the butt with the hand, but nothing more extreme than that.”

The mind healer nodded. “As long as there is discipline to balance out the amount of power Severus already exhibits with his magic. I would be concerned if there was nothing to keep him grounded while his power grows.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that with Harry. He’s…” she shook her head, “…a lot more powerful than any of us can possibly imagine. I’m convinced that the power he exhibited during his battle with Voldemort was only a tiny fraction of what he’s actually capable of. But, as you can tell, Harry’s a very grounded guy. I mean…” Hestia smirked, “Ginny keeps him grounded, he answers to his in-laws, Remus, and Sirius—they’re his authority figures.”

Pendleton nodded as he signed his final assessment. “That’s good, because he’s going to be a fine example for Severus.” The balding man ripped two pieces of parchment from his clipboard and handed them to Hestia. “If you would please confirm that these two copies say the same thing, and then sign at the bottom there.”

As the social worker double-checked the paperwork, Pendleton crouched down next to Severus and offered him his finger. “Master Snape, it’s been a pleasure.” The infant bit his lip and took it, giving it an enthusiastic shake. “Now all we need is for Mr. Black to convince the court to place you with Harry. Shouldn’t be too difficult, I think.” The middle-aged man let out a small groan as he struggled to climb to his feet.

“Here you go, sir.” Hestia said, after signing both copies.

Pendleton smiled and took only one of them. “That copy is for you, should anything happen to me between now and when I present to court.”

“Ah!” The social worker rolled the parchment up and stuck it in her pocket. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.”

“See? You never know in these custody cases.” The balding man commented as he shook Hestia’s hand one last time before heading towards the door. “When both sides are desperate for the child, mine becomes quite a dangerous job.”

The social worker laughed and waved as the man turned to open the door. “Oh!” He exclaimed, surprised to find Mad-Eye Moody on the other side. “So sorry! I was just on my way out.”

“And I was just on my way in!” Moody growled.

Pendleton seemed unfazed, offering the auror a cheerful smile. “Well…good morning, sir!”

Moody grunted a “Morning” as he squeezed past the middle-aged man and into the room.

“Alright…” Dumbledore exclaimed, glancing briefly at his watch, “…we’ve been here long enough, I think. Court will take a thirty-minute recess. We resume in half-an-hour.” BANG!

There was a collective sigh of relief before everyone began scrambling out of their seat and through the huge double-doors of the courtroom.

“Harry, are you okay, love?” Ginny asked, studying her boyfriend worriedly.

“Things aren’t looking as good as you said they would, Sirius!” Harry exclaimed, making an effort to calm his breathing.

“Relax, pup!” Sirius replied, unfazed. “They’re all now completely reluctant at awarding Malfoy custody.”

“Yeah, but they’re also completely reluctant at awarding me custody!” The teenager hissed angrily. 

“Yeah, well, that’s all going to change when our star witness takes the stand.” The animagus squeezed his godson’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Hasn’t our star witness already taken the stand?” Harry asked, all of a sudden confused.

“What?” Sirius snorted. “Malfoy’s mind healer? Heavens, no!”

“I thought these people always lead with their star witnesses. You know? First impressions and all that…”

“No, pup,” Sirius turned from his notes to give his godson his full attention, “you have to think strategically, okay?” He discreetly gestured towards Malfoy’s table. “Unlike Mr. Big Shot Lawyer over there with his head buried in his arse and is too dim-witted to tell the difference between his shit and his brains. No. Harry, let me ask you something. When do you want the Wizengamot to remember the witness’ testimony the most? Huh? It’s when they’re about the make a vote on who gets awarded custody of the kid. Right? So, you see, it’s not strategic to start with your star witness, it’s strategic to end with them.”

Harry nodded silently, yet he was still confused. “Yeah, but…who do we have left? I thought everyone who could possibly speak in my favor has already testified, and so far no one’s proven to them that I could make a good father.”

“That’s what the star witnesses are for, pup. Relax! We got this.” Sirius gave Harry’s shoulder one last squeeze before turning back to his stack of papers. “Now go on! Take a bathroom break, okay? Give me a minute to focus.” Nanoseconds later, the animagus was busy scribbling all over his papers.

Harry chose to use the bathroom on Level 9, as opposed to the one everyone was scrambling for on Level 10. It was the first time he had actually ever seen a queue for the men’s lavatory as long as the queue for the women’s. This level was a lot quieter, in his opinion; for no one wanted to use any of the facilities in the Department of Mysteries.

The teen could practically hear his thoughts bouncing off the walls, it was so quiet! The young man’s mind was overflowing with “what if’s”, “could have’s”, “should have’s”, and “would have’s”. He was thinking about all the things he and Ginny had done with Severus, and all the things they had yet to do. They couldn’t lose that child! Not to the Malfoys. Especially to the Malfoys! Harry was certain he would give in to his impulses and do something incredibly stupid if it came to that point.

The young wizard was so distracted, he didn’t notice that the toilet in his stall had flooded until after the water had seeped through his shoe and soaked his sock. “Damn!” He cursed under his breath, hopping away from stall and shaking his other foot at the same time. Spotting a broom closet next to the sinks, he hopped over and threw the door open, trying to find a mop so that he could at least clean up some of his mess.

“You looked like a fool down there!” A voice hissed from somewhere behind him, making the teenager spin around in surprise.

“I’m sorry, sir!” Another voice replied. Harry soon realized that the voices were muffled, and were emanating from the other side of the lavatory door. “It’s just that Black—”

“Shut up!” The first voice hissed. The young wizard immediately recognized it as belonging to none other than Lucius Malfoy. “Not out here!”

Harry just barely managed to step into the broom closet and close the door before the lavatory door swung open and Smith stumbled into room. Lucius slammed the door shut behind him. The teen watched through the shutters as the intimidating blonde backed his lawyer against the wall. “I need that child back in my custody before the end of today. Do you understand me?”

“Mr. Malfoy—” Smith’s voice was shaky.

The angry wizard grabbed him by his lapels and lifted him off the ground, pinning him against the wall. “You are losing, you imbecile!” He growled furiously. “You assured me there was no way we could lose!”

“I didn’t expect Black to be as good as he’s been!” Smith squeaked.

Harry smirked. Yes, his godfather was full of surprises.

“He’s not a lawyer! He’s had no experience in court before. It was only logical—”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses!” Malfoy hissed, stopping the lawyer cold. “You make sure Severus Snape stays in my custody. I need him to get Potter right where I want him.” He pressed the head of his walking stick in Smith’s face, making the younger man cringe in fear. Malfoy then lowered his voice to a dangerous snarl, “You deliver Severus Snape, he delivers Harry Potter, and I make sure that price on your head with your bookmaker magically disappears.”

“But, what about the mind—”

“Never you mind about that mind healer!” Malfoy snapped. “I’ll take care of him. You just remember our arrangement.”

Done with his threats, Malfoy dropped his lawyer back onto the wet floor with a splash, straightened his robes, turned on his heel, and marched out of the room without so much as a backwards glance.

Harry collapsed against the wall of the broom closet with a sigh. Why couldn’t things ever go smoothly for him? There always had to be some kind of nefarious plot involved or something. What was he, cursed?!

Closing his eyes, he wandered to the back of his mind, where his link with his son lay. He needed to talk to Severus.