I stand on Grimmauld Place and look around. I don't see a house with the number "12," nor Sirius either. I understand that he could have lied, forgotten, or changed his plans... I lied to my parents, saying I was going to visit a Muggle-born friend from another house, so they're resting with relatives without me with a light heart. If I had told the truth, they wouldn't have let me go alone, and I don't want them to listen to Walburga's screaming. A shaggy black dog runs up to me and starts wagging its tail.
"Sirius, is that you?" I haven't seen him in his Animagus form yet.
The dog starts barking joyfully and jumping around me.
"Well, shall we go then?" The dog runs somewhere between houses 11 and 13. It stops, goes back, grabs my sleeve with its teeth. I put my hand on its head...
"Wooow!" I exhale loudly. That's how the Fidelius Charm works. It's like an optical illusion. A very high-quality illusion. We enter the house. The hallway is gloomy, smelling of dust and mustiness. Sirius has been here for two weeks already, but it seems like someone entered the house for the first time in many years.
Sirius transformed back into a human and shook himself off.
"Welcome to the House of Black!" he proclaimed. Perhaps too loudly - the curtains on the wall trembled and parted by themselves, and a terrible howl was heard.
So that's what you're like, Walburga Black!
"Filth! Foul spawn of evil! Away from my house!"
"Damn, Hermione, sorry, I forgot to warn you about my dearest mother..."
"And good day to you, Lady Walburga," tilting my head to my shoulder, I wonder what can be done with her.
My polite greeting made her even angrier, and she burst into a stream of completely unprintable profanity.
"Madam! If you don't stop swearing like a dock worker, I'll draw you magnificent mustaches. For completeness of the image, so to speak. With a permanent marker, no elf will wash it off!"
Walburga was so shocked by such a threat that she even shut up. A strange sob was heard from the side - Sirius with an expression of complete delight on his face was almost jumping.
"Oh you little wretch!" Walburga found her voice again. Too bad, she could have stayed quiet longer.
"Hermione, give me your marker, I'll draw her mustaches myself!"
"Yoooou! Traitor, shame of our house!" Walburga was shrieking.
"I won't give it to you! To me she's a crazy aunt with poor upbringing," Walburga choked on another curse word in the background, "I can draw mustaches on her, but she's your mother! Maybe there's a chance to negotiate with her?"
"Away, away from here, defilers of my fathers' house!"
"There, there! You see yourself how pleasant it is to talk with her."
"I wonder, if you married a suitable pure-blood witch and provided the Black line with heirs, would she change her anger to mercy?"
"Hermione, have you gone mad?" the prodigal son bulged his eyes.
"What? What specifically are you objecting to - getting married, or the pure-blood part?"
"Against everything! I haven't had enough fun yet and anyway..."
"Well anyway, so anyway. I brought you photos of Harry," I changed the subject. Wincing at another scream from Walburga, I asked, "Can we somehow turn down the volume?"
"Right now," Sirius went to fight with the curtains.
I gave Sirius the photographs, he showed me the house, we talked a little about Harry - Sirius gave him the most advanced broomstick here too. And we started thinking about a plan of action. Sirius wrote a magically certified receipt that I could hire a lawyer on his behalf, gave me a bag of galleons. After concluding the contract, I should call Kreacher, and he will transfer us to Grimmauld. Sirius ordered Kreacher to obey me and not to harm. We decided, if possible, to lure Amelia to Grimmauld the same way.
In the evening I sent an owl to the lawyer asking to meet tomorrow, and a couple of hours later an answer came with the appointment time.
The next day at the appointed time I meet with Mr. Goldstein. Interestingly, wizards have the same lawyers handling both civil and criminal cases. The confidentiality charms placed on the office won't let the lawyer talk about this meeting, even if he doesn't agree to defend Sirius. I tell Goldstein the essence of the case, show Harry's blood test result, which is still stored with me because Harry forgot about it. By how the lawyer's eyes lit up, he anticipates a high-profile case. We discuss the fee - it's a large sum, but the Blacks have money. After concluding the contract, I ask permission to summon an elf.
"Kreacher."
"What does the mudblood witch want from Kreacher?" - he's still being polite.
"Transport us to the house on Grimmauld," Kreacher grabs our hands and apparates. Moving with elves is much more pleasant than with people. Too bad elfish magic isn't available to us.
At Grimmauld the lawyer immediately began interrogating, finding out from Black the circumstances of the case. I'm unnecessary here for now. I ask to be called when they finish, and go to the room that Sirius provided for me. I have another important matter now.
"Kreacher!"
"What does the filthy mudblood want from the elf of the most ancient and noble House of Black?" - yes, that's exactly how he usually talks. And he calls Sirius "the worthless master who broke his mother's heart."
"Kreacher, I know about your master Regulus's last request. I can help. I know how to destroy the locket."
"The mudblood knows about the locket?" Kreacher looks distrustfully.
"Yes. If you bring it, I'll destroy it right in front of you."
Kreacher disappears. I put on dragon leather gloves, take out a dictaphone and a dagger.
"Here," the locket swings in front of my nose. Still, it's disturbing that an elf can instantly move anywhere, and there's no protection from this.
"Put it on the windowsill."
Kreacher places Slytherin's locket on the marble windowsill, not releasing the chain from his hands.
"Now I'll open the locket and strike it with the dagger. There will be a terrible scream, and you might feel mental pressure. Can you handle this? Kreacher?"
"Kreacher can. Kreacher will manage," hope and disbelief sound simultaneously in the elf's voice.
Alright, I've done this trick twice already. I can handle it. The dictaphone hisses "open," the locket opens, and I immediately feel an attempt to get into my head. I act quickly and forcefully bring the knife down on the Horcrux. As in previous times, there's a scream, a black shadow appears - here Kreacher somehow cleverly snaps his fingers, and the shadow carries away through the wall.
Phew. I catch my breath. The locket melted much more than the diadem. Kreacher carefully closes it, firmly squeezes the chain with both hands, tears flow from his eyes.
Black bursts into the bedroom with his wand at the ready.
"Hermione, what happened?! Who screamed?"
"The Muggle-born witch destroyed the evil thing. Finally Kreacher fulfilled master Regulus's request. Master Regulus can sleep peacefully," he looks up at us with tears and relief simultaneously in his eyes, and disappears.
"Uh... Hermione?" Sirius is clearly in shock.
What? I'm also in shock that I'm no longer a mudblood.
"Sirius, everything's fine. Sorry I scared you. Are you done with the lawyer?"
"Almost, just a couple of formalities left. He approved the idea of working together with Amelia. So what really happened here?"
"I don't quite understand myself... Go, finish up."
"Right. You come down too."
I put the dagger and dictaphone in my bag and went downstairs too. Mr. Goldstein gave me a two-way mirror - for communication with him during this case. And asked me to contact Miss Bones as soon as possible, and immediately inform him.
Interestingly, Sirius obeys me. For some reason. Disoriented after prison, and I'm the first who came along and tried to take care of him?
I sent an owl to Miss Bones. Hearing what it was about, she immediately agreed to a meeting. She moves directly to our house, I offer her tea and after lengthy apologies and explanations that this wasn't my idea, I ask her to give an oath that she won't act against Sirius in his house. Fortunately, Amelia treats this calmly and without unnecessary questions fulfills Goldstein's requirement.
We sit in the Grimmauld kitchen and hold a war council. Goldstein, Bones, and Granger. Sirius sits with us and interferes, that is, verbosely indignant that there's no justice in the world. We discuss how Sirius could safely live until the trial and safely appear in the courtroom, rather than accidentally die on the way from some stray dementor.
"Maybe we should involve the press?" I suggest. I see two questioning looks, Sirius doesn't count. I explain, "In the Muggle world too, sometimes they want to silence some case if it's not beneficial for those in power to have a fair investigation. But if there's a big public response, they can't avoid having a trial. And if Sirius suddenly dies before the trial, it will damage Fudge's reputation more than an acquittal. Just present the situation in the right key: poor innocently convicted Sirius, wartime lawlessness, predecessors' mistakes, and of course, Fudge - our light in the window, hope of magical Britain, the only one who can restore justice... and so on."
Aunt Amelia is shocked, Mr. Goldstein looks with respect. Sirius listened to everything.
We decided to act that way. We formulate a letter to the most famous and scandalous journalist of magical Britain, also known as Rita Skeeter. We immediately attach to the letter a small bag with an advance and promise a major scandal worthy of her talent. And again I have to take the heat, that is, meet with her to demand oaths - Amelia and Goldstein are too serious people, it's beneath their status.
God, like I unloaded a wagon of coal. Rita twisted like a snake, just to avoid giving an oath while learning a bit more information from me. A real leech. But she allowed me to call her Rita, apparently appreciating my efforts. Finally, I literally shook all the necessary oaths out of her. I call Kreacher, and we move to the Black house.
Rita is delighted, Sirius is horrified: she methodically squeezes his soul out of him. They didn't allow her to bring a photographer, so she takes pictures herself. Harry's blood test result confirming the godfather connection. Sirius rolls up his sleeves and shows clean hands without the mark. Sirius gives another oath that he didn't betray, didn't kill, wasn't a member - if you try hard, you can read lips, but Rita provides the full text of the oath under the photo and certifies that she was a witness. Just a very thin, sickly Sirius, who would awaken sympathy even in the most callous heart. They communicate until evening. I came and went, managed to do the essays assigned for the holidays, went for a walk around London, had dinner in a cafe... returned, and they were still continuing.
I decided I wouldn't wait for the end of the process and wished them good night.
I woke up late in the morning - tired yesterday from negotiations with Skeeter and walks.
On the way from the shower I ran into Rita coming out of Sirius's room. She was in a half-buttoned men's shirt and disheveled, with a clearly visible hickey on her neck. Yes, they were quick. Without her poisonous makeup, Skeeter looked ten years younger. And definitely younger than Sirius looks now.
"Good morning, Hermione," she purred, "and really, what a wonderful morning today."
"Good morning, Rita," I smiled. Well, of course.
I didn't want to call Kreacher unnecessarily, so I made breakfast myself. When I was making coffee, Skeeter came, already in a robe and with her hair done.
"Rita, shall I make coffee for you too?"
"Yes, please," she sat at the table.
"Tell me, Hermione, do you condemn us? For Sirius and me, mm... resting together?" What a strange question, why would I condemn two adults? Aah, I completely forgot - this, Katya, isn't the 2010s for you, this is the end of the last century in magical England.
"No... I'm happy for you and Sirius. Mainly for Sirius, of course, he needs to return to normal life," well, and a woman can always find someone to... rest with, if necessary, I continued mentally.
"And Sirius, by the way, is good in bed," Skeeter said dreamily.
"Rita, I'm fourteen," I laughed.
"I didn't notice this fourteen-year-old girl being embarrassed right now," the journalist winked playfully.
That evening I was shown the article. It was magnificent! It evoked burning sympathy for Sirius and for orphan Harry, who was left without his godfather, anger rose in the soul from Pettigrew's betrayal, the article made the reader horrified by post-war chaos and instilled hope in the wisdom and kindness of Minister Fudge, who would undoubtedly fix everything in the very near future. The photographs of Sirius (one even with little Harry in his arms) fit very organically.
I showered Skeeter with compliments about her talents. It's obvious that she's pleased, but it would be even more pleasant if this could be published immediately, rather than waiting several more days when the lawyer and Miss Bones prepare everything. Today my parents return from relatives, and I'll spend the rest of the holidays with them.
Finally, I get a promise from Sirius that he won't spread the word about my participation in this case, and say goodbye to the newly formed lovers.