Chapter 7
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"YOU SAY THAT MATRON HALLEWELL'S PUNISHMENTS WERE BRUTAL..."

The defence lawyer was questioning her relentlessly. First, asking her questions that were simple repeats of what he had asked Yaritza, Rosin and Jakob. Following then with much more detailed and personal questions that were making her uncle interject after each one.

And now...

"...perhaps you were simply exaggerating?"

And now, he was trying gaslighting tactics. Adhara wanted to roll her eyes.

"After all, children tend to..."

Adhara zoned him out, preferring to look at the members of the audience. She recognized a fair few faces. Flint was among them, looking constipated in his tight plum robes. They made eye contact, but the latter quickly looked away. Adhara simply moved on. She recognized Greengrass and Parkinson's fathers, a man who bore resemblance to Yaritza — and Adhara kept her eyes on him for quite a bit — and then Lord Rosier, who she had watched abandon Thomas for a better model.

Adhara hands curled into fists.

"...I mean, simply adding coils to a furnace is barely considered a punishment."

"Would you like to see my burn marks?"

Adhara's voice rang loudly throughout the room. She looked directly into the lawyer's eyes.

"What?"

They hadn't asked to, not to any of them. Each of them had their talk with Madam Bones, and they were also asked to describe the injuries in detail in front of the Wizengamot. But no one has asked to actually see them.

Perhaps because they weren't allowed to ask. After all, asking four traumatised kids to reveal their scars to a group of strangers was a massive overstep of boundaries. But if they volunteered that information themselves...

Adhara was already undoing her bandages, without waiting for an answer. But then someone's hand grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"Adhara."

Her uncle was next to her, suddenly. She turned, looking at him directly.

"You don't have to do that."

There it was again. That guilt, that worry, that care that overwhelmed her, that made her skin prickle. Adhara looked away.

"I don't want you to have to do this."

Someone was talking, telling Sirius to return to his seat. But the man didn't move.

"I decided to testify. I'm deciding to show them, this isn't on you."

Adhara averted his gaze. She didn't want to see that concern in his eyes again. Carefully, she unwrapped the bandages around her right hand, feeling the weight of everyone's gaze on her. Sirius didn't leave her side, once.

"Lord Black," started the Minister, "we can have you pressuring the witness—"

"Sod off."

"Excuse me?"

When one hand was finally out in the open, Adhara heard gasps. She didn't let the reactions stop her, moving on to her other hand. Though, she did wonder what Flint was thinking at the moment.

Adhara outstretched both her hands in front of the Wizengamot, looking at the defence lawyer.

"Does this seem to be an exaggeration, sir?"

Sirius snatched her wrists, grabbing both with one of his hands and then covering them with his other one. He didn't look up at the audience, though he looked like he wanted to shout at all of them. Perhaps even curse them all.

The lawyer's — Ambrose — lips thinned. He turned behind him, where Matron was sitting, in the direction where Adhara refused to acknowledge today.

"A mistake, Minister," said the lawyer. He gave his client a withering look, but continued to speak professionally to Fudge. "Mistakes can happen during chores. That could barely be considered my client's fault."

Adhara glared at him.

"Can mine be considered mistakes, too?"

The voice came from behind her. Adhara twisted around in her seat. Roisin came down to the floor. Her gloves were gone, the brown circular splotches on display, ones that were clearly put there on purpose.

Adhara heard Ambrose curse under his breath.

Yaritza was beside her, her mittens removed and sleeves pulled up. She looked back at Jakob, who hadn't come down. They looked at each other, obviously communicating somehow but the boy didn't budge.

Matron hadn't said a word other than when she was questioned, perhaps trained by her lawyer. Apparently, the notion was gone on her, now. She was standing up, using a crutch, yelling at the top of her lungs.

Adhara turned back from the other three, while Yaritza and Jakob seemed to continue on with their staring contest.

"She did that to herself!" The woman was pointing an angry finger at Roisin. "She wants to incriminate me! She's been gone for months, why would she still have the scars?"

"I suppose you'd say I did mine, as well?" Adhara surprised herself with how levelled her voice was. Usually, it was easy to uphold her air of disinterest, but Matron always knew how to break her. "I've been gone longer than she has."

Matron scowled at her.

"It was her, though," said a male voice. "She's been doing it a lot recently, mostly to the other muggleborns. She doesn't like them. She said—" Jakob swallowed down thickly, hesitant. His gaze flickered around, but finally settled on Yaritza, once more, who gave him a reassuring nod.

"Matron doesn't like muggleborns. She told us — us squibs, that is — that muggleborns stole our magic, which is why we have none."

An outdated, ridiculous belief.

Another voice came from the crowd, one Adhara recognized as belonging to Madam Bones. "Why would she do that?"

Jakob opened his mouth again, but no sound came out. Yaritza spoke for him.

"Because she's a squib herself, you see. I work for her — as her maid. Matron kicks us out as fifteen — too expensive to keep us longer, she says, but I had nowhere else to go. It was the only way I could ensure to stay off the street—"

Adhara heard someone scribble something down, making her realise that they hadn't mentioned this particular information.

"We're squibs. We have nowhere to go—"

"Thank you, Miss Shafiq, but perhaps we should keep on subject—"

"Perhaps we should let her speak," cut off Sirius. He glared at the Minister.

Yaritza addressed the Wizengamot, not the clown on the high chair. "Especially at fifteen. It's not like we can go to Hogwarts, and we weren't allowed to go to school, we have no means to integrate in the muggle world."

More sounds of quill against parchment.

"So, I agreed to work for her, and with time, I just noticed things. And, well, Madam Bones...Matron is a squib. And she has a particular dislike for muggleborns."

"Why so?"

"Because she is a lunatic," declared Adhara loudly. "One that actually believes that muggleborns stole her magic."

"How dare you," said Matron with gritted teeth, "call me such—"

"Runs in the family, doesn't it?"

The room went silent. It felt as though every speck of dust froze at Adhara's comment, yet weirdly, she was starting to feel too hot. Sirius' grip on her hands got tighter.

"What do you mean, Miss Black?"

Adhara's gaze didn't shift from Matron. She looked directly into her eyes, head held high.

"Pardon me, Minister," started Argog, "but we were getting there. You see, Matron Hallewell revealed to Miss Black her true identity. With some thorough background check and aided by Gringotts," he handed a document to the Minister, "we were able to confirm Hallewell's real name as Mariam Black."

Gasps and outrage spread through the crowd, but Fudge silenced them with a knock of his gavel. However, the man himself seemed to be in shock.

"Lord Black, can you confirm?"

"Yes. Her name appears on the family tapestry, as well as the registry. Though, her picture has been burnt off."

Adhara checked the tapestry. It was one of the first things she did when they arrived at Grimmauld. Matron was her great-great aunt. And technically, the woman was also related to Millie, since her mother was a Bulstrode.

"She has some sort of vendetta against me," Adhara said, almost automatically. "Upset that I could keep the family name despite having tainted blood, while she had to relinquish her name though she is a pureblood."

Matron was fuming. Shaky eyes, breaths heavy, she visibly had to hold herself back.

Adhara couldn't help it. She's been spending too much time with Harry. "How does it feel knowing a mudblood became Heir Black, Matron Hallewell?"

Adhara's hands, balled into fists, we're shaking. And honestly, bravery had never been her forte.

The woman screamed, jumping over the railing in front of the benches.

Adhara's anger vanished within a second, replaced quickly with fear. Eyes growing in size, she sprung out of the chair, stumbling forward when someone caught her. An arm wrapped around her, pulling her away from the woman.

"Everte Statum!"

Shouts and voices waned into a sharp ring. Adhara closed her eyes, face smothered into someone's chest. She felt the arm around her tighten, the person — Sirius, a voice in the back of her mind supplied — murmured to her.

"You were so strong, Adz. So brave. We're all very proud of you."

Adhara's hands were twisted tightly in something — fabric, it seemed like.

"Breathe, Adz. Breathe. She's gone. Matron will never hurt anyone again."

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Back at the atrium, there was a swarm of reporters waiting for them to exit the courtroom. Sirius and Remus encircled Harry and Adhara, keeping the madmen away.

Adhara was out of it. Harry wagered she had detached, similar to what Harry did sometimes. Sirius was guiding her, though Harry refused to leave her side.

He almost jumped over the railing himself when Matron launched herself at Adhara.

Everything went on quite quickly after that. Harry ensured the stay attached for it. He wanted to remember the faces of all those who voted against Matron's imprisonment. He wanted to see the look of Minister Fudge's face. Harry wondered not for the first time that day why Dumbledore wasn't there.

Would he have come if it was for Harry? Would that be a good thing? Or would it only confirm Harry's doubts?

There was one who jumped right in front of Adhara, flashing a camera at her and shoving his wand at her face.

Harry snarled. His sister just had one of the worst days of her life. Did no one have any sense of decency?

Harry shrugged off Remus' hold on him and decked the man. 

━━━━

Adhara was still quite out of it after her panic attack. Seeing her state, Mrs Weasley suggested that side-along apparation might take a toll on her, so Remus decided to take her home by bus since he was most comfortable with muggle public transport.

Meanwhile, Madam Bones took Gamp and Shafiq back to Aleyne, Mr. Weasley — who represented his family in the Wizengamot — and Mrs Weasley apparated with Roisin, leaving Harry with Sirius.

As they watched the houses Numbers Eleven and Thirteen separate to reveal Number Twelve, Sirius placed a hand on Harry's head, pushing his hair back and garnering his attention at the same time.

"Alright there, Harry?"

"Fine."

He was fine. Of course, he was fine. They won the case. After Matron's awful display when she jumped over the railing, grabbing for Adhara, they got the majority of the votes — Harry noticed how Flint voted in favour of the woman's arrest.

Matron Hallewell, or now known as, Mariam Black, was sentence to fifty years in Azkaban for severe child abuse and money laundering. And considering the woman was well over seventy, Harry doubted she'd live through it.

He couldn't find it in himself to care.

Half an hour after they got home, Remus and Adhara returned. Harry ran to the front door, Ron, Hermione and Millie at his feet, only to find Adhara unconscious on Remus' back.

Before Harry had any time to panic, Remus put his hand up. "She's asleep. She fell asleep on the bus."

Sirius had come out of the family room at the sound of the door. There was a furrow between his brows. "She must've been tired."

"She had a long day."

That, she had. Harry watched reluctantly as Remus carried his sister to her room. He felt a hand on his shoulder, already knowing who it was.

"Haz, why don't you and I talk a bit, hmm?"

Harry shrugged. His friends must have sensed something was up, cause they quickly cleared out. Ron dawdled, giving Harry a look, and he was obviously going to tell the boy everything later tonight, anyway so Harry shooed him away.

Somehow along the way, Harry ended up sitting in front of the fireplace with his godfather, flipping through an album.

"And that's your mum with her friends: Mary, Marlene and Dorcas."

Harry ran a hand over the photograph, watching his mother laugh along with her friends. Any other day, he would be over the hill, talking about his mother. Right now, however, Harry could tell that Sirius was stalling. And Harry did not appreciate that.

"And here we are!" Sirius pointed at a picture that had 'The Marauders' written on the bottom. "Let's scratch the rat's face, shall we?"

"Can you just get on with?" Harry's voice came out harsh, without meaning to. He flinched at his own tone.

"Haz?"

"Sorry — I — I didn't mean that."

Sirius smiled. "That's okay. Happens to the best of us."

And that only aggravated him more.

"Why aren't you angry with me?"

"Should I be?"

"Yes?" Harry said, confused. "I mouthed you off."

"I hardly call that mouthing off. You should've heard the things I used to say to Walburga."

"You're not Walburga, though. You don't deserve it."

He felt Sirius' gaze linger for a second.

"I suppose you're right in some ways. I don't deserve you Harry."

As they did whenever someone insinuated that they cared about him, Harry's ears became warm.

"What's on your mind, Haz?"

"No — nothing. Adz, she's fine now and—"

"Adz and you are two separate persons. You're allowed to have your own worries even if she's going through something herself."

Harry looked at his godfather. "Is that not selfish?"

"How is that selfish?"

Harry shrugged. He felt like a cuckoo, again, hogging Sirius when his niece needed him. Harry felt selfish, stupid. Adhara just went through one of the most mentally exhausting ordeal of her life, and here he was, worrying about his stupid nightmares and dragging Sirius into it.

"You know, this one time, your mom and dad had a fight during school."

Harry kept his eyes downcast, but the sudden change in subject caught his attention.

"Couples fight all the time, of course. It's normal. But this was the first ever time they fought, and you dad was going berserk."

Harry looked up.

"He desperately wanted to talk to Moony."

"Why Moony?"

"Because Moony has always been the most level-headed one among all of us," Sirius replied easily, eyes on the photograph.. "But, there was a problem. Your mom and dad fought on the night of the full moon."

"Oh?"

Sirius nodded, still smiling. "And Prongs...he was stressed, you know. Going mad not being about to get any sort of advice, but also because he hasn't told any of us about the fight at all. Because Remus' furry problem took priority."

Harry glanced away again. He could see where this was going. "What happened?"

"Remus found out, obviously. James was acting strange all night, and even the next day. No amount of prying could get him to open his mouth. Moony practically tackled him the second he was cleared from the hospital wing."

It was a cloudy day outside. There was no rain, and the sun didn't seem to exist in London, so it was nothing new. But it was windy, and chilly, and wet. The fireplace was radiating a comforting heat, and Sirius' words were starting to unfurl whatever anxiety filled his chest.

Yet, Harry's throat still felt too tight to speak. A certain uneasiness has followed Harry since the beginning of the summer hols, since Cedric Diggory's death, one that only grew in size with added worries: the guilt that has been clawing at him since Sirius took him in, Dumbledore's constant absence, Adhara's trial, Voldemort.

Some of these, Harry thought Sirius had noticed. The guilt regarding Adhara, especially. Particularly, since Harry broke down in front of him after they got Adhara out of Aleyne, not to mention this entire conversation.

The other things, though, Harry didn't know if Sirius knew about them. Not about Cedric, not about Dumbledore, not about his odd dreams. Harry hadn't told that to anyone.

The fire blazed loudly. Harry was starting to feel a bit numb.

"Cedric died because of me."

He didn't see Sirius' reaction, but he could probably imagine it. After all, Harry didn't think he said what Sirius expected him to say.

"Oh, Harry..."

"He did, though. Voldemort wanted to kill me. He only saw Cedric as a spare."

"You can't blame yourself, Harry—"

"You do, though. You still blame yourself for my mum and dad. How is that any different?"

Harry felt Sirius' gaze linger on him.

"I suppose it isn't."

Harry closed his eyes.

"I suppose I shouldn't, then."

His eyes snapped open. He turned to Sirius, who was looking at Harry with the saddest eyes he had seen the man make.

Harry blinked, his eyes prickling. "If I hadn't told him to grab the goblet. Or, if — if I just said something about Moody—"

"No." Sirius grabbed Harry by his chin, twisting him around to make the boy look into his eyes. "Stop thinking about what if's, Haz. Trust me, it's not a good path to walk down on. You'll bury yourself in more guilt if you do."

"I should have known."

"But, you couldn't have, bud. You couldn't have." Sirius pulled him into a hug.

Harry spoke into his godfather's shoulder. "You couldn't have, either."

He felt Sirius' quivering breath in his hair.

"Let's both agree that it was Voldemort's fault, shall we?" he told Harry.

Harry froze, the reminder of Voldemort making his heart skip a beat. The man's face, hands, the dreams Harry had been having.

He wished he could ask Dumbledore about them, but the Headmaster has been avoiding him for months.

"Harry?"

He buried himself closer to Sirius. He shook his head. He didn't want to tell Sirius about it, it would worry him even more.

"Can we see Adhara now?" he defected.

"Sure. Let's go see if she's awake."

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When Adhara opened her eyes, she was met with the sight of a ceiling, not the bus window. She sprung out of bed.

Warm hands steadied her.

"Easy, Adz."

She shoved the hands away, and Remus held them up, placatingly.

Slowly, Adhara took in her surroundings, who she was with and drew up a picture of what happened. She could feel the back of her neck heat up at the thought of falling asleep on the bus. On Remus' shoulder.

"Feeling better, now?"

Out of habit, Adhara glared. "I'm fine."

"I suppose you are. But you must've been tired. It has been a pretty exhausting day."

It has been, and Adhara did not want to admit that to anyone, but the falling asleep on the bus may have spoken for itself.

She crossed her arms. "What happened?"

"Hallewell jumped you, and that was all the convincing the Wizengamot needed. The majority voted on her conviction."

"...she's in Azkaban?"

Remus nodded. "For fifty years."

She remembered the trial. Remembered Matron jumping over the railing. But she didn't remember much after that, only muted voices, as though she was underwater and her ears were clogged. She remembered blurs of walking out the Ministry, boarding the city bus. But not much more.

Remus was watching, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the way it does whenever he was worried. Adhara didn't know why he was worried, though.

Adhara slumped. Slowly, she took a deep breath. An overbearing sort of heat that has been prickling underneath her skin, something akin to static, started to taper off. She hadn't even realised it was there, didn't know since when it was present, but the buzz in her ears was suddenly gone.

"And Yaritza? What's going to happen to her? And Aleyne?"

She was aware that her breaths were coming in quickly, but she couldn't stop them.

Remus was kneeling in front of her. He took her hand and placed it on his chest, taking in deep breaths. Adhara understood the message, following the rhythm as much as she could.

"Yaritza will be fine. So will Aleyne. Let Sirius and I handle it, alright?"

Adhara nodded quickly. Remus' words made him easy to trust. No dawdling and straight to the point. Adhara appreciated that.

She watched her hand on Remus' chest, following it to breathe in and out.

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A/N Harry is putting himself under so much pressure, I'm surprised the poor lad hadn't broken down yet. Punching the reporter did help to relieve some pressure, though lol.