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If you've ever read or heard about the concept of a being being inserted in another universe - it's usually pretty straightforward. You either body jack the main protagonist or his love interest, or even the villain. Sometimes from birth - sometimes you're just there between one moment and the next in an important moment of their life.

Usually a rather devastating moment - but that is what makes a protagonist is it not? What would Bruce Wayne/Batman be without his parents murder?

Likely not a man running around in a bat costume fighting clowns, that's for sure.

It sets you on a somewhat predictable route, as nine times out of ten - you know the story, and can take advantage. Whether you go the way of the manipulator, the villain, or the plucky hero - the world is your oyster. You have all the advantages.

Future knowledge. You know the people. Their dreams, desires, the way they act. The way they think. It's almost like you can't fail.

So that does beg the question… What the fuck had he ever done in his life to piss some damn deity off, or whoever it is that is in charge of these body jacking experiences. Because, really?

Because he did not get a nice sweet gig as the plucky hero or malevolent villain. No growing up knowing absolutely everything that would happen every step of the way. No handy road map to world domination or the adulation of the masses.

One moment he was in bed, falling asleep. Comfortable in his own life - albeit maybe not challenged enough. Pleased that his efforts at his extracurricular job would finally see that bastard Hedge fund shite McGoffrey fired - and possibly charged for fraud - at minimum. Depending how much of the evidence, real and planted - that they could find.

Sometimes the law needed a helping hand to find the right way - it's not really criminal is it? More like a civic duty. If they were guilty - what did it matter if the evidence to convict them was necessarily real.

The next moment he woke, not in his bed, in his shit hole apartment, instead he found himself getting up from a kneeling position with a desperate shudder, confused and so incredibly cold, shaking uncontrollably, as he stared at the retreating Dementor. Gliding out of his cell, in what could only be Azkaban! From the circle of frost around him, and the same frost clinging to his beard - he had just been kissed!

He'd been an avid fan of Harry Potter, not for the boy hero really, as he found him somewhat dull and predictable. But for the complexity of the adults. Incompetent yet powerful. Subtle and cunning - yet emotionally retarded. The likes of Severus Snape and Sirius Black. Their stories intrigued him - even as only hints to their depths were revealed in canon.

The cell doors slammed shut by themselves when the Dementor exited, drawing his confused attention again - the original soul tucked away in its belly, or wherever it goes. The imposing, black and disgustingly oily and hungry feeling stones of his cell, loomed over and around him - giving off a feel like they would press in and crush him any moment.

Azkaban was not made to feel pleasant. Even without the Dementors immediate presence he felt horrible.

His breaths came out in short gasps - the chill off the cell making it painful to breathe. He didn't even know who he was - who had been kissed for him to replace them, what time was he in? Which criminal was he? Was he a Death Eater? A quick glance at a filthy and shaking left arm at least gave him that relief - no dark mark. He checked the right as well for reassurance, still no mark.

Not that he overly cared about such distinctions as light and dark. He knew enough about life to know, that sometimes things just needed to get done - and there was no point in quibbling about how. Not as long as the end result was the same. But to be one of the branded cattle beholden to a megalomaniac with no nose was just not cricket.

He didn't have anything against being a so-called bad guy - in principle. But he drew the lines at cartoonishly evil idiots. If he had to be a minion let it be to an evil genius, really. One who only ever fails because story fiat says the good guy has to win. Especially as an evil genius rarely made life worse for the regular innocent - just fucking over the heroes and government. He'd been behind a bevy of morally questionable actions over the years. And some that weren't even toeing the line of questionable and were simply outright illegal - but it was always for a purpose. Achieving an end that made the world better. One scumbag at a time, the kind that couldn't be touched by regular law without some outside assistance.

Politicians, Billionaire CEOs, Law Enforcement Brass, Media Moguls. The one percenters who always got away with it. Who paid off, intimidated or outright disappeared those who could talk about their… Proclivities.

He'd find something to stick to them, or he'd make up something to stick and plant it. And enough of it to force even their kind to lose careers, and in the best case scenarios - their freedom. In the end even money couldn't buy safety from everything. Not with people like him. Equalizers they called themselves - even if they were not really a group in any way. More like a loose set of people with the same idea.

Equalizers, because they made the arrogant and powerful equal to the common man in the end. Forced the law to be applied to even these monsters of the modern world. And although he'd never had to personally go that far… Ended them - when even their assistance wasn't enough for a conviction.

Vaguely he heard voices at the end of the hall as the Dementors presence faded. They were speaking too quietly for him to catch it all. But apparently whoever he was, whoever he is now - they were happy he'd been kissed. They were celebrating a man getting his soul destroyed.

It was all too shocking, too confusing, he felt consciousness slip away as he slid to the cold stone floor. The prison garb doing nothing to protect him from the lingering cold.

Whatever had he done to deserve this?

Surely if there was a God… He wasn't punishing him for taking down scum? Was he?

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For a while the days and nights passed in a blur. His memories were scrambled, somehow - despite the man before him getting his soul sucked out - pieces of him lingered - just not with any conscious mind attached anymore.

His best hypothesis was that the body's magic. His magic now. Still held an imprint of the soul or the life of the man before him. It was an imprecise theory, but it was the best he had to go on as to why a soulless husk still remembered - even if he'd replaced the soul apparently immediately after the kiss. The magic he could feel inside him, still held memories of a life, of being used. Albeit incomplete.

There were flashes of memories, from childhood, lessons and celebrations. He learned all about Beltane and Samhain, the winter and summer solstices, the great hunt. He also learnt the feel of being under the cruciatus curse at some point in his early teens - those memories particularly harsh and vivid.

He was not a fan - even just a memory showing clearly why the curse was unforgivable. And done by his own mother apparently. Absolutely appalling. Precisely the kind of person his previous life's comrades would have sought out to… Equalize. Rich, politically protected, privileged, ruthless and cruel. The kind of people the common man has no protection from if their gaze turns to their innocent families. And his new body and memories, was borne of just this kind of sick wealth.

There were flashes of Hogwarts, of classes, of friendship and hated enemies - of werewolves and Animagi. Never quite the full picture, the memories jagged and not quite fitting. Giving a vague idea in some places, but not quite having the context. Showing parts of the whole - a life lived, but not really getting a whole life's worth. For every memory he encountered - ten more slipped through his fingers like nothing but vapor.

He knew now that he was Sirius Black - somehow he felt like Sirius Black, despite his other life having more memories to hold on to. He knew, even without meta knowledge - that he'd been completely blindsided by Peter Pettigrew and dumped into Azkaban as refuse - no trial, no interrogation - none of his friends, allies or superiors taking one minute to question, why?

His entire life waved away without thought or care - showing what he truly was worth to those he had thought held him dear.

With the Dementors kiss and the traumatic experience of taking over the shell and its somehow lingering memories - he was truly Sirius Black - with more memories from a book series in another world, then he had of his own life. Yet somehow stitched together in a way where he felt… Whole. Like one person. Even if he was an amalgamation of some sort.

And for whatever reason, his cell had been opened to administer the Dementors kiss - he seriously doubted legally. And yet, every morning and evening - the bowl of water and tasteless pale gruel would still arrive in his cell. The waste disappeared as well by whatever magic the cell had - he never had to expel it in the first place, which he was grateful for, the cell was bad enough as it was. None were the wiser it seemed, that he was being fed, that he was still alive. It appeared the human guards did not patrol the corridors, or pay attention to how many bowls were filled in a day.

With the shit they were being fed, he assumed some sort of automatic system. He'd been an Auror - he remembered. Part of it anyway. But Azkaban hadn't been something he'd learned a lot about. Certainly not enough to know where the food comes from.

Unfortunately the corridors were patrolled still - by the Dementors. Sirius could feel his sanity slipping every day he was subjected to the demons - ice cold fingers raking across his mind, dragging out any happiness and hope with them. The Dementors seemed to find a reason to go by his cell even more than the others - perhaps because of the duality of his memories. He had more to feast on.

He suffered more. Which made him dig in more desperately, his memories blending together as he sought refuge. More and more every day he saw himself more as Sirius, as whatever good memories he held from his other life kept being attacked and savored by the Dementors.

Day and night he desperately searched his memories - going over spells and magic he'd learned, trying to force the memory of a certain one. Despairing as memories of family rituals and ceremonies, the memories of childhood were so much stronger than anything else. Perhaps because the original Sirius had so suppressed them while he had practically lived his Hogwarts years over and over again. Those happy memories were perfect feeding for the Dementors, yet the man hadn't been able to help himself, going back to the only time he'd been happy. Over and over again.

In the weeks it took - he was practically at the point of suicide, anything was worth escaping the Dementors - the horror of their presence couldn't adequately be explained to a muggle, the feeling was worse then any torture he could imagine. Yet finally, he succeeded in transforming into Padfoot. Gaining momentary respite from the full effect of the Dementors. If not any relief from the cold dark stones of Azkaban itself - soaked in dark magic and suffering. The walls themselves savored the pain and imposed a feeling of terror on its occupants. The cold north sea wind arrived constantly through the tiny window at the top of the cell - ensuring there was never any warmth with which to find succor in. What little he knew of Azkaban - that he could find in his brittle mind - told of an ancient Dark Lord creating the fortress. Of immense suffering the cause of the stones' qualities.

He believed it. He felt it.

He also believed the stories of the first prisoners of the famed fortress having suffered so terribly they'd become the first Dementors. Cursed to roam the world and cause suffering - having not a single redeeming quality - true dark creatures.

He despaired and fought night terrors and panic attacks - even as he tried to think of solutions - ways out. Whenever his mind was clear enough from the Dementors assault on his very being.

Unfortunately, he must have been in the early stages of his confinement - because he was still much too plump in his Animagus form to even think of trying to squeeze through the bars. What a thing to wish for, that he was more starved - so that he could use it to survive.

Yet he couldn't make himself stop eating the gruel. Needing every ounce of energy to continue to resist the Dementors.

He'd never been good at giving up. He hadn't when his father fell to drink and eventual suicide when his life long career was destroyed by a conglomerate buying up their business and cutting it into pieces for re-sale. He hadn't when he'd been forced out from college in disgrace for going after a trust fund brat who'd thought it natural that he take whatever he wanted - including from his best friend's sister. He'd kept working, kept studying - although no longer official classes… Kept trying, kept moving on, moving up. Until one day he'd come across the mention of the Equalizers - and had realized where he could do his part.

He wouldn't give up now either. And that's why he kept eating. Kept trying.

The best he could do however, was to draw on his disused Occlumency skills, what of it he could remember from childhood days long gone - and his war time accelerated Auror training - and hope beyond hope - even if that just drew the Dementors in - that the Minister for Magic did the yearly inspection mentioned in the books… And that it was something done even before Cornelius Fudge took over.

It wasn't much - but it would be a single opportunity to attempt something. To get a chance for a trial at the very least. To push for anything other than remaining here in hell.

And if he got out… He'd make sure to destroy the Dementors. Hatred was something both original Sirius and him had in common. And now Azkaban… The Dementors… The Ministry… Dumbledore…. He'd make them all pay! One way or the other! He'd revamp the entire damn magical world if he had to!

The more he focused on that, on his hate. The less pain he felt as the days and weeks and then months went by.

Suffering through endless torture. Fighting to keep his mind intact. This new duality of him - that was the new Sirius Black.

The magical world was in need of an Equalizer…

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As Padfoot his ears perked up as he heard distant voices - he couldn't estimate time very well, but he'd guesstimate he'd been in lovely Azkaban for nearly six months now. The Auror guards never came down to the maximum security wing however, so something was happening. He silently transformed back and stepped up to his cell door. Eyes widening as he could spot the flickering light moving his way - the ministry inspection! It must be!

If it was another prisoner arriving they wouldn't arrive like this. There would be Dementors.

Soon enough he could see them. Four Aurors - two with their Patronuses out and about circling the group, a Rabbit and a Tortoise. He recognized the warden - from his own Auror days. The longer he spent as Padfoot, the more memories were slowly returning to him, somehow. And he also recognized Millicent Bagnold, the Minister of Magic, looking distinctly uncomfortable to be here. Or perhaps due to the last person following behind her - a reporter, peppering the minister with questions.

It was like Christmas, a reporter was better than anything he could have dreamed of.

"Soon we should be upon the cell of Sirius Black, not much to see, I'm afraid. I've been told he was accidentally kissed by a Dementor shortly after arriving here." Bagnold was explaining to the reporter, a somewhat unassuming short and balding man who was eagerly taking notes, even as his eyes flittered warily around the cells.

"Accident my magnificent arse! Dementors can't open the damn cell doors, Bagnold!' Sirius called out loudly, slamming a hand into the bars for effect, startling the whole group, "Almost the worst kiss of my life, there was this bird in Hogwarts, you know, she somehow managed to outperform the Dementor in awfulness, scarily bad snogger she was!" He scratched his beard, eying the Auror escort, "The Dementor had nicer breath too, now that I think of it."

"Black!? How in Merlin's name…?" Bagnold had frozen, the Aurors were so shocked one patronus even winked out - the tortoise. Bagnold turned, flustered to the warden, "You said he'd been kissed!" She hissed, accusingly, hands trembling.

Sirius made exaggerated kissing noises at the outraged Minister, puckering his lips. One of the Aurors had to hide a chuckle behind a cough. The lead sent him a warning look and he stopped, blushing as he re-cast his patronus - the tortoise again swimming in the air around the group.

The warden, a sour old man that had served in his position for four decades, shook his head slowly, peering at Sirius with wide frightened eyes, "He was minister, no doubt about it, he received the Dementor's kiss just as we'd been told to administer it!" He spat out, making a sign as if to ward off evil.

"Sirius Black, so it's true then? You survived a Dementor's kiss? What dark magic did you use?" The reporter immediately jumped in, before glancing at the Minister slyly, "And the warden was told to administer the kiss, Minister? I thought it was an accident?"

Bagnold spluttered, not finding any words, looking between the warden and her Auror escort helplessly. The flickering light playing across her face, making the paleness of her face stand out. Especially in the eerie black halls of Azkaban.

"No dark magic here, mate! I'm innocent, never had a trial, see… Magic itself protected me from the kiss, it's why I haven't gone nutters either, Dementors can't feed on an innocent man the same." Sirius explained with a quick pained grin, the whole thing a load of bollocks, but with a reporter here, he had the chance to really ham it up, and hopefully make the story juicy enough that the wizarding world would have to take notice.

"Preposterous! You betrayed the Potter's to You-know-who!" Bagnold snapped, "I don't know how you're alive but you're far from innocent, Black!"

Sirius showed his palms, as he held his hands up and affected an injured look, as much as he could when he was covered in filth and desperately needed a shave.

"I didn't do it, and I'd take Veritaserum or swear an oath to that anywhere, anytime, anyhow. I would have never betrayed them!"

"You'll be lucky if I don't have you kissed right here and now!" Bagnold cried out, "You are a deranged dangerous criminal and I will not have your lies upsetting a magical world that just finally found peace!"

"I am the heir to the most ancient and noble house of Black." Sirius said, dropping the affable attitude and sneering at the Minister. Fudge or Bagnold, cut from the same cloth it seemed, "You are already going to face the consequences for having me sent to Azkaban without a trial or even a bloody interrogation! Let alone the kiss! What do you think the Wizengamot will say if you suck the soul out of one of it's heirs by your say so alone - after finding reasons to believe I'm not here justly." Sirius held Bagnolds gaze, before slowly sliding his eyes towards the reporter who was furiously taking notes.

Bagnold visibly deflated, looking helplessly again at her escort. The warden had pointedly taken several steps back - distancing himself from the whole matter.

Sirius didn't know why he bothered. The man could probably kill the Minister and still keep his post. There wasn't anyone aiming for his job. He'd had it for four decades for a reason. No pay was worth Azkaban. The gossip amongst the Aurors ranged from the man being a half Dementor - born from a prisoner - to the man being too dull to actually have feelings or memories and therefore unaffected by the creatures.

"Minister… Maybe it's for the best that we take him to a ministry holding cell and hold a trial - just in case." The lead Auror said quietly, stepping up next to the Minister. Sirius recognized him, Rufus Scrimgeour - his lion's mane and gruff face easily placed, even with his patchy memories. Although the slight limp to the man's walk was new.

A political animal to the bone. If Sirius was set free - Rufus could count on the Black family owing him one. Worth its weight in gold in the ministry, at least until they all die mysteriously in the next few years. Perhaps Sirius can stop that - if he wants to... As for Rufus, even if Sirius was to be found guilty again - he'd simply provided a solution to the Minister and followed procedures and protocols and he'd still come out ahead. Just doing his job, safeguarding the Ministry and all that rot.

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"Oh, very well. But stun him and bind him, I want no chance for this to become an escape attempt." Bagnold said irritably, turning to the reporter, "And see here, you won't write anything until the Wizengamot have met and -"

Sirius heard no more as Rufus wasted no time and turned his wand on him and stunned him.

Even as he saw the spell coming he smirked, he'd won, trial or not, being out of Azkaban was a win, and as long as he could contact his family - he'd never be sent back there.

Even if they tried to refuse him Veritaserum or tried to railroad him - the Black family gold would ensure his freedom. It had worked for Lucius Malfoy, it would work for him. He couldn't care less about how would people would see him at that point - only that he wouldn't go back here!

The red light overtook him and everything went dark, but Sirius Black was smiling, even as the Minister and Aurors dragged him back to the Ministry.

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Sirius came awake with a start, looking around wildly and not able to withhold a sob as he realized it was not a dream - he really was out of that demon infested hellscape.

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime - his bones didn't ache from the chill. He was warm. He marveled at the feeling. Watching his fingers which weren't blue anymore.

"Didn't take you as the crying kind, Black." A gruff voice came from just a short distance away.

Sirius rose from the gray bed attached to his ministry cell interior wall, and walked up to the bars - the room pleasant compared to his previous accommodation. On the other side he could see his old squad leader - Alastor Moody.

"You have a little something, right there." He said, trying for a grin, but aware it likely looked more like a grimace, as he waved vaguely to Alastor's new eye. Merlin, that looked disturbing. The chunk out of his nose wasn't exactly pleasant to look at either.

Alastor stared him down, grimly. The electric blue eye swiveled in his head to look all around the cell block - searching for threats, no doubt. "I got it chasing down scum like yourself, Black…" He growled, normal eye hard and cold.

"I'm not a Death Eater!" Sirius growled back, slamming into the cell door, meeting Alastor's eyes, "I would never betray James and Lily! How could any of you ever believe that!?" He snarled, canines poking out, as he practically roared it out.

Even if he wasn't more than maybe a third Sirius Black at this point… Those memories, the hurt and anger and hate. The anguish and guilt. It was still all there beyond anything else. He might not feel it as keenly as the original. But he still remembered. And any human would feel angry at such monumental betrayal. He'd been in Azkaban because men like the one in front of him - hadn't been bothered to so much as question him. Just washed their hands of bad rubbish and moved on.

Moody didn't even flinch, he just scoffed, "What else am I supposed to believe, Black? You blew up Pettigrew and a bunch of muggles - not really screaming innocent to me, laddie."

"The trial will prove you all wrong, I'll go under Veritaserum, take an oath, whatever you need, I'm sure my lawyer will get it all sorted." Sirius said, dropping back from the cell, emotions draining away, no one would believe him until then. Bitterness swelled within him. Even knowing the future and that they were actually good people - it didn't help mitigate the hurt that they all abandoned him without even an attempt to find out what happened. And Merlin it wasn't even him, not really. He remembered a whole other life. He rubbed his forehead tiredly, how anguished the real Sirius Black must have been - if the ghost of his memories affected him in this way. This new him was going to be something to get used to.

"We'll see, Black, the trials in two hours, you'll get your chance - with a court appointed defender." Alastor said, with a slow shake of his head.

Sirius' eyes widened and he straightened up, grasping the bars of the cell, "What do you mean, two hours? How long have I been out? And why haven't I been allowed my own representation?" The railroad scenario he had been worried about started to seem more likely now…

Circe's tits! It's for shite like this he became what he'd become in his old life. The justice system should not operate on the ideal of what looks good for those in charge.

"You're a criminal and a mass murderer, Black. Be glad you get another trial and a defender at all." Alastor said with disgust, turning away.

"Moody, wait!" Sirius yelled, desperately. The old Auror continued to walk, "Moody I never had a damn trial! They never even checked my wand!" He screamed, slamming his fists against the bars.

Moody stopped for a moment, hesitating, before shaking his head, "If that is true, you'll be fine in the trial, Black." He muttered, skeptical.

Even now, he didn't believe him. Wouldn't hear him out. Had no interest in caring, because it was just a Black.

Sirius watched the Auror continue on his way, searching for anything, something that could help him, if they've kept him under for the entire time until the trial, and hadn't allowed him to contact his family, or a lawyer. Then Bagnold had probably stacked the deck to send him back to Azkaban - and he'd die before he got sent back there.

"Moody! IT WAS PETTIGREW!" He screamed so loudly it was as if the entire cell was shaking, desperate and raw. "He's a rat Animagus, he cut his own finger off, blew up the street and escaped into the sewers - check the Weasley family, he's likely hiding there, he'd go to devoted Dumbledore supporters to hide from the other Death Eaters! We switched secret keepers because no one would ever suspect him!" He had no way of explaining how he'd known that Pettigrew was with the Weasley's - but right now he needed anything that would turn this trial into his favor. "Moody, please!!"

"You're insane, Black, Azkaban has done a number on you after all, it seems." The scarred Auror said lowly, before shaking his head again and continuing on his way.

"Moody! It doesn't harm anything to check on what I said! You're an Auror! Moody! MOODY!" Sirius banged on the bars again, but there was no reply. He was gone.

He could only hope the trial wasn't a sham, and he'd get the chance to defend himself.

He sank to the floor of his cell and hugged his knees - he couldn't go back, he just couldn't.

Please don't make him go back.

Pleasepleaseplease

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Things soon progressed to the worst case scenario. Sirius found himself cuffed and muzzled as he was led to courtroom ten - the worst part was that he instinctively wanted to make a dog joke and couldn't - he really was Sirius Black now wasn't he?

Four Aurors surrounded him as they frog marched him into the room. He tried to walk in a somewhat dignified manner, but it failed as the Aurors grabbed him by the arms and dragged him - once they entered the courtroom, making a show out of it. Placing him on a chair in front of the entire Wizengamot, the chains wrapping around him completely. The muzzle left on. He glared at the spot where Bagnold was sitting. The absolute bitch wasn't going to give him a chance.

The Ministry didn't change its spots no matter what decade it was… Funny how eager they were to send him back to hell, when they'd been so eager to pardon literally everyone else.

He looked around the room, recognizing many, as both allies and enemies - although in this case, he likely had no allies at all.

He made eye contact with his grandfather, Arcturus Black - and found no help there. He too, believed Sirius was guilty.

Fucking bastard! Didn't do shite for him when he was on the light side and now that he's presumed dark… Won't do shite this time either. Anything for family… What rot!

A brief study of Albus Dumbledore, in his all too shiny and extravagant robes - found no quarter either. The venerable old Headmaster staring down at him with disappointment from his seat as chief warlock.

Another one that couldn't even be bothered to sit down and ask him with sad twinkly eyes why he'd done it - take even five minutes to try and learn why. Sirius Black was of that little importance. The sum of his life was relegated to his last name and nothing more.

Had he been named Weasley or Diggory, he'd have had a trial, no doubt. Dumbledore would have made sure of it.

The gallery was full, he saw, as he continued to crane his neck, looking around. Reporters and nosy citizens crammed into the courtroom - with the full complement of the Wizengamot all present.

He even saw that the wireless was here and broadcasting - an incredible rarity in a trial. Bagnold, that cow, was that secure in her victory. She wanted to crow in front of everyone about sending him away for life. He wouldn't be surprised if she'd push for the Dementors kiss, making it all official, he doubted he'd survive it as he'd arrived here because the original hadn't. Although according to his memories - the kiss was almost impossible to get approved. Made him wonder how Fudge managed it - the fear of the breakout must have been the decisive push to secure the vote.

Dumbledore called for attention and quieted the room, "We are here today to correct a miscarriage of justice that was found on the most recent yearly inspection of Azkaban." Dumbledore paused for effect as he peered down at Sirius who glared balefully up at him, "Sirius Black was found to have never received his day in court, and has therefore been brought before us, so that we may pass judgment, however late, for his actions against the magical world as well as the muggle one."

Riotous noise broke out as the visitors gallery exploded in jeers and accusations. Sirius was not able to do anything but sit stoically and listen to the hate being spewed at him. Dumbledore allowed it to go on for a minute before banging his gavel and once again quieting the room. The visitors settled quickly under his stern gaze. Likely every one of them once having gone through Hogwarts under his aegis and therefore holding him in high esteem. Like Sirius once had.

"Presenting the case for the Ministry will be Minister Bagnold herself." Dumbledore called out, before reading from a set of parchment in front of him, "And representing the accused is…" Dumbledore looked from the parchment and towards Bagnold, frowning slightly, "A Mister Thornton…" He trailed off as a young man, barely out of Hogwarts, and visibly sweating, walked up to the podium next to the Minister.

"Millicent, this is highly irregular… I know Mister Thornton graduated Hogwarts last year, he, as far as I am aware, is not trained in law…" Dumbledore seemed put out at the obvious interference and Sirius allowed himself to hope, just a little.

"Nonsense, Albus, young Mister Thornton joined us as a law clerk at the DMLE last year, and that's enough experience really for an obvious case as this, he's the only one that volunteered as is, no one wanted the job, you see." Bagnold explained dismissively, waving a hand at the young man who's standing perfectly still, like he's afraid to breathe too loudly in front of so many influential members of the wizarding world.

Yes, someone working for the ministry in his first year, will surely fight the MINISTRY very hard… Sirius thought sarcastically, trying to hold down his mounting fear. Dumbledore was all about fair play, in this at least, surely…

Dumbledore hummed, looking through his parchments again, and Sirius' heart sank as he saw the old headmaster's demeanor change. Once again the old man was willing to let injustice go - because it was only Sirius.

"While highly unusual, it's not technically against law or protocol - so I see no reason to object to the start of proceedings." Dumbledore said after a brief pause. His eyes however flicked to his podium immediately after as a light lit up. "The chair recognizes the house of Malfoy." He said slowly, reluctantly. Although he kept a perfectly polite mien.

Sirius' eyes widened as he craned his neck to where Lucius Malfoy was standing up, amongst the Wizengamot members. Who'd died and given the peacock a Wizengamot seat? Last he knew the Malfoy's didn't have one - having come over from France a couple hundred years ago. Wizengamot seats were not given to families that couldn't even count themselves as noble. Not in Britain at least. Who had he murdered for this privilege, Sirius thought, narrowing his eyes at the blond ponce.

"Whether it is within the parameters of procedure or not - is this chamber really going to continue to let an heir to one of the most noble bloodlines in the world, be treated like this?" Lucius said disdainfully, both hands on his serpent topped cane. "A scion of a sacred twenty-eight house was in Azkaban for two years without a trial, and you brought him here, muzzled as a beast - not allowed to speak for himself, nor allowed his own counsel? Is this how much purity of blood is worth today?"

He abruptly sat down as soon as he finished, as a cacophony of noise exploded in the chambers. Several members of the Wizengamot - notably those who were once Imperiused, raised their voices to agree - as the visitors gallery exploded in rage and mockery. Yet… With a lot of voices raised in support. Not of Sirius himself, but of the point Lucius had raised.

Sirius couldn't believe it. Why was Lucius Malfoy defending him? Did Narcissa put him up for it? Or did the blonde ponce really believe somehow that Sirius was a Death Eater and was trying to protect him? It was blowing Sirius' mind. He shook his head, no it must be to prevent a precedent, that's why, spineless Lucius doesn't want there to be a chance someone like himself could be dragged off without a chance to bribe or coerce his way out.

His mixed memories had blended together more and more now - but both recognized the Malfoy lord as a slimy bottom feeder - always willing to claw himself just one inch higher at someone else's expense. Memories of actual events and of a series of books both agreed.

Dumbledore eventually managed to silence the chamber again, Millicent Bagnold looking like she'd bitten into something rotten as she stared down Wizengamot members, probably counting votes after Lucius equated Sirius treatment to one every pureblood scion might face.

It had likely won him some support - in principle if nothing else. But the dark section of the Wizengamot had never held a majority. And even less so now after the war when they no doubt had to move delicately, especially in open votes like this. Still, some support was better than none.

Sirius made a face beneath the muzzle, he couldn't believe that if he got out of this - he'd owe Malfoy one.

Part of him almost preferred Azkaban. The other… Viciously thought that if he was going to go after the likes of Dumbledore, Lucius would be a useful ally. For as long as it took him to sharpen the knife for his back, of course.

"The chair recognizes the house of Black." Dumbledore said suddenly, and you could hear a pin drop in the chamber, as the entire room turned as one to stare at Arcturus Black. The gray haired patriarch of the Black family stroked his well trimmed beard as he glared down from the Lord's seat. As always cold and distant and seemingly uncaring of the eyes on him.

Sirius met his grandfather's eyes again as the old man stared down at him with an impressive sneer, "As the patriarch of the family, I give my blessing to the ministry to proceed in this matter, as they see fit." He said coldly. And doomed Sirius in one breath. The Blacks were without a doubt the most powerful family in the dark faction. By making a statement like that, he was practically casting him out - withdrawing protection. The families that might have voted for him, due to wanting to avoid a similar case in the future, if nothing else. They would no doubt now stay their hands. They wouldn't want to upset the Black lord when he's cast his judgment after all.

Sirius barely paid attention to the trial, sitting limply in his chains as Dumbledore confirmed he was the secret keeper to the Potter's, as witness after witness was called in to describe his dark and malicious character. You'd think Dumbledore would recuse himself with his obvious involvement in the case.

But of course not, Dumbledore was beyond reproach. Let him control the trial that he himself is testifying in. Nothing to see here, folks!

The character witnesses were mostly friends from back in Gryffindor, colleagues from the Auror corps, and members of the Order of the Phoenix. At least Remus wasn't here, that would have been just the cherry on top of a bloody shite sundae.

Although, for all he bloody well knew, his trial was being held on the day of the full moon and only that prevented his old friend from spewing hatred at him as well.

He'd never quite liked Remus Lupin from the books, and had found him somewhat of a coward. It jarred somewhat with the memories of a soft spoken, caring, but brave young man. In the end with his absence, he was somewhat ambivalent on his feelings for him.

The farce of a trial continued on. Playing up how comically evil he was. It certainly made him smile, if a dark, gallows humor kind of smile. Why, if they all knew he was so bad all along, didn't they say anything or do anything to stop his obvious rise to evil? The absolute ridiculousness of this trial… Another world, magic at their fingertips - and yet everything was exactly the same.

Oh, his defense tried, as young and inexperienced as he was, and knowing what the Ministry wanted, he still tried, which good on him, he supposed, although it might give him trouble in the future. He went through a long winded albeit passionate debate with Bagnold on the use of Veritaserum, eventually forcing a vote on whether Sirius would get his say under the truth potion. The Wizengamot, already sick and tired of the trial and having the death of the Potter's and all the destruction brought up again true endless emotional witness testimonials, handily voted it down just to end this all already, and Bagnold triumphantly demanded a final vote of guilt, as Sirius sat, fighting his chains, desperately trying to reach his magic.

Escape wasn't even on his mind, he just wanted to find a way to detonate himself or otherwise die, before they dragged him off again, he could not do another stint in Azkaban - he wouldn't survive until he was so gaunt he'd be able to escape as Padfoot. He'd die within the year. He felt it.

He actually sobbed in relief as the doors slammed open and Moody stepped inside, a rat hanging limply from his hand. Luckily no one was actually paying attention to him anymore, his fate practically done. Saved him the trouble of having to explain his manly tears later.

"Auror Moody! What is the meaning of this intrusion?" Bagnold spat out, visibly annoyed. She sent a glare at the two Aurors who were guarding the door, both who sheepishly looked away.

Sirius didn't blame them at all - they were obviously rookies. How Bagnold expected them to hold off someone like Moody he had no clue. He wouldn't relish trying that, even if he could remember all the magic this body could perform - which he couldn't. If he got out of this he'd have some serious rehabilitation to do, at least two years in Azkaban could explain the memory gaps he'd have and why he couldn't perform all the spells he once had been able to.

"Just found a little bit of evidence I thought might be important…" He said, gravelly, holding the rat up for everyone to see. Moody's eyes met Sirius and there was an apology in there somewhere beneath the anger, guilt and disgust.

Moody had listened. As far as Sirius was concerned he could ask for anything and Sirius would give it. He was bringing salvation. The man was already forgiven for never checking in on him and finding out the truth.

"You brought us a rat? The rumors of your sanity slipping are not exaggerated, I see." Rowan Rosier, a stocky, sandy haired wizard in his fifties heckled loudly from his Wizengamot seat. "Perhaps the Ministry can make use of you to chase down mice stealing cheese from the Ministry cafeteria." He mocked.

Moody's eye narrowed, as the magical one zeroed in on Rosier, on his left arm to be precise, if Sirius wasn't mistaken. "Aye, might be careful there, Rosier, I might just slip in your direction." He made a motion with his wand hand and the Rosier Lord scrambled out of his seat, turning furiously red as he saw a satisfied and smug Moody continue further into the chamber, having faked him out completely. Sirius would have barked in laughter if he wasn't muzzled.

As it was there was a smattering of laughter from the gallery and the Rosier Lord sat back in his seat, enraged and embarrassed.

"Alastor…" Dumbledore said warningly. Watching the old Auror tiredly. "Do you have an actual reason to be here?" He inquired, sounding completely done. Sirius sneered beneath the muzzle, funny how now, he's tired of the proceedings, not when the Minister gave him a baby in diapers as a defense wizard and denied him the use of Veritaserum.

A literal truth potion and Dumbledore saw no issue in letting Bagnold push for its exclusion with the Wizengamot. He could have spoken up, said it's procedure, no one would have gainsaid him. Yet again he'd done nothing.

Moody tossed the rat in the air, firing a spell at it seamlessly, everyone in the chamber watching in shock as Peter Pettigrew slammed into the stone floor, sprawling on all fours, looking around wildly with beady eyes, unable to move - but still conscious.

"I dunno," Moody said casually as can be, "Does finding the supposedly dead Peter Pettigrew - with a dark mark on his arm, mind, have anything to do with Sirius Black's murder case?"

Dumbledore was staring in shock at the revealed Pettigrew, before his eyes widened and his face paled so far it almost matched his beard. Slowly the chief warlock turned in Sirius' direction, eyes pained and filled with sudden realization and guilt.

Sirius stubbornly met the gaze with one of anger and resentment. It was a little too late to come upon epiphany's. If it weren't for Moody he'd be on his way back to the Dementors.

The rest of the chamber was in an uproar, everyone screaming accusations or in some hysterical visitors cases - just screaming. Even the Wizengamot was not left silent at the appearance of Peter Pettigrew.

The accusations from the light side was matched in absolute intent silence, on the other side of the chamber. The Death Eaters and their supporters staring silent murder at the little rat that cost them their lord and victory.

The two most affected in the chamber were Millicent Bagnold and Arcturus Black however.

Sirius watched in pleasure as the Minister paled and sank back from the podium, looking a decade older and ashen faced. There would be no way of silencing him now - and when Sirius could talk … It would not end well for the bitch.

His eyes turned challengingly up to the top seats of the Wizengamot, finding his grandfather yet again. The old man tried to maintain a calm facade, but his eyes were too wide and his posture too stiff - Sirius could easily tell the man was shocked to his core. And by the spreading redness on his face - furious. Now suddenly he was angry that the Ministry had overstepped - another one too late!

"I-I…I R-reiterate my request for my c-client to take Veritaserum!" The young law clerk shouted over the cacophony. Having to repeat himself several times until Dumbledore managed to silence the court and assess his request.

"All those in favor of Sirius Black undergoing Veritaserum questioning?" Dumbledore called out quickly, the lights spreading across the Wizengamot, white for yes, black for no. There were no black lights.

Even those that would rather see him dead - wanted to hear the story now.

There was a brief recess as Veritaserum was called for, and because it had to be triple authenticated by the representative from the department of mysteries. There could be no chances now taken with this trial - the wizarding world was listening.

In the meantime Pettigrew got his own chair to sit in, chained up just as tightly as Sirius. And Sirius finally had his muzzle removed. Working his jaw as he stared at the Wizengamot challengingly. "Hurry up with the Veritaserum already," He barked out, grinning fiercely, "So I can force the truth down the throats of everyone here that tried to sentence an heir of the sacred twenty-eight to Azkaban without cause or allowing him to speak!"

Moody hadn't left the floor and had taken a position next to Sirius' chair. Sirius could feel the silent apology - the old man was watching his back in case someone took matters in their own hands to prevent testimony.

It did actually help. No one would get the drop on old Moody. Sirius definitely had the best guard dog in the building at this moment.

Soon enough three drops were administered and Dumbledore took over the questioning as the Minister seemed incapable of forming words.

"Please give us your name and date of birth." Dumbledore asked first, looking down at his stack of parchments and not meeting Sirius's eyes anymore.

"Sirius Orion Black, the 3rd of November, 1959." Sirius said, feeling numb, the truth serum acting not too unlike an Imperius curse. Having him feel swaddled in contentment as his mouth moved mostly on its own. It was interesting now that he thought of it, that the truth potion only seemed to work for the original memories. Because he certainly could have just as well given another name there…

Food for thought if he could now beat Veritaserum if he concentrated on his other life…

"Were you the secret keeper to James and Lily Potter?"

"No." True for both of his lives, he thought.

Whispers and gasps ran through the chamber as everyone took that in. The confirmation that he did not perform the act he's so heavily despised for.

Dumbledore seemed to age before his eyes as he closed his eyes briefly, before soldiering on. "Do you know who the secret keeper was?"

"Peter Pettigrew, it was my idea, I thought Voldemort would surely come for me, that he'd do anything to capture me and extract the secret, so we'd bluff him out, no one would believe Peter would be chosen as the secret keeper." Sirius revealed in a monotone. The use of Voldemort's names had several shrieks of fear emanate across the visitors gallery.

It took a minute to silence the chamber again as the ire of the crowd turned to Pettigrew - as those who had known Sirius watched in shock and guilt. He could see it on their faces - and honestly, he didn't know if he could forgive them. He wasn't even fully Sirius - more like thirty percent Sirius, 70 percent someone else - with knowledge and a whole other life. Yet the betrayal still somehow stung. Even if it wasn't so much the emotional side anymore as those emotions for the most part were shallow and based on a puzzled together memory. They were getting more dull and distant the less he focused on them. Yet still, somehow, he couldn't let them go.

The cold logical part of him from another world - couldn't stand the betrayal of those he'd risked his life for - or his body's previous owner had in any case. He'd had their backs in war and in many cases saved their lives in battle. And how easily they'd all turned. How many of them had testified here today? Against him.

It's because of them, their complete disregard for him, that he'd been brought into this world into Azkaban - a torture worse then anything he'd imagined.

Even McGonagall had shown up to testify against him. His youthful indiscretions being turned into Death Eater junior stories. The pranks he'd done with the Marauders turned into sole efforts of bullying and cruelty. The Gryffindor head of house taking up half an hour earlier, describing his cruelty that she unfortunately misjudged - all led by a delighted prosecutor in Bagnold.

Only… His one actual malevolent prank on Snape, was not brought up, more to protect Remus than anything done to lessen the blow against him, surely. That he could accept there to be recrimination for. Only that. And yet that wasn't even brought forward. For that alone he could despise his body's original owner. Yet it had been one mistake. Not something to hang an entire life over.

How they'd reorganized their memories to condemn him - his friends, allies, teachers. He took some small pleasures in looking around and seeing the shame-faced members who'd just thrown him under the Hippogriff, and now realized they'd been terribly wrong.

"What happened that day, when you found Peter Pettigrew?" Dumbledore asked, and the chamber became completely silent. Of course now that he'd seen Peter, the great Dumbledore had figured out the events on that day. Always late, never on time.

Even if he wasn't the secret keeper he could still have been responsible for the spell that killed all those muggles, of course. Sirius wondered how many of his 'friends' hoped right now that he was - so they could soothe their guilty conscience.

"I caught up with Peter and he yelled out about me betraying James and Lily, catching me off guard. Before I could cast a spell he cut a finger off and blew the street up, turning into a rat and scurrying off."

More murmurs rose at this, the Wizengamot already having seen the rat - luckily for Sirius, Dumbledore did not pursue that avenue further, which would be revealing his own illegal Animagus form. Perhaps done on purpose by the old man as a way of apology - as surely he'd figured out that if Peter Pettigrew managed to become an Animagus, James and Sirius surely were as well.

No doubt many in the Wizengamot realized much the same - and apparently none had the appetite to call him out on it right now.

"When you were arrested did you go through any questioning at all?" Dumbledore asked next, sounding almost emotional there for a second before he was back to genial old crackpot.

Bagnold immediately jumped up, still ashen faced, "Now see here, Albus! I think we've already found the man to be innocent - there's no need to continue questioning, we should move on to a vote."

"He'll be answering the question, Minister…" Arcturus Black growled, "Go on Albus, continue." The disdain in his voice was clear to all. Now he suddenly cared, apparently.

Fucking old codger.

"You may answer the question now, Heir Black." Dumbledore said softly, completely ignoring the minister, who was wringing her hands, looking for support amongst her allies on the Wizengamot.

She wasn't finding any by the glum look on her face. Sirius took particular pleasure in seeing her career implode. Her swansong into the sunset after having 'won' the war - now tarnished forever.

"I was hauled straight to Azkaban, no questions, no check on my wand, no medical examination." Sirius droned out, and then because the Veritaserum did not control him to the point he couldn't add more truth, he added the kicker. "Then I was given the Dementors kiss at some point of my incarceration - according to the Warden of Azkaban it was done under orders, and the Minister was aware of the kiss."

The chamber erupted, the entire Wizengamot rising up in anger at the idea an heir could be given the kiss without going through the Wizengamot first. The minister did not have the legal right to order the kiss performed at any point. It was the final and last resort punishment for the worst kind of criminal - not even Bellatrix Lestrange had come close to earning the vote for it. Purebloods considered the soul sacrosanct, dying was returning to the family magic - having your soul destroyed was anathema, not something the Wizengamot would have allowed unless the circumstances were dire.

Bagnold had to duck away from several spells, Aurors rushing in to cover her - as some enraged Wizengamot lords let their wands do the talking for them.

A loud deafening bang came from the chief warlock's wand - settling everything down as he glared the room down, bushy eyebrows drawn together in consternation. "Order! This is the Wizengamot, you will act as befitting your station!"

With grumbling and quite a few swear words, the Wizengamot slowly quieted down - members returning to their seats. Dumbledore quietly ordering an aide to give Sirius the antidote for the Veritaserum.

"I think I speak for everyone in this matter when I say that you have suffered a horrible miscarriage of justice, heir Black." Dumbledore spoke softly," His eyes swept across the chamber. "I put before the Wizengamot the vote to exonerate Sirius Black the heir of the most ancient and noble house of Black, of all charges and furthermore stipulate that he is owed restitution by the Ministry of magic - the manner of which can be decided at a later date."

The lights flared up across the Wizengamot, and the chains across his body receded - he was free. The entire chamber had voted for his freedom. Not even those that hated him, or stood by the minister, dared show their vote against him in such a high profile and far reaching trial. Not with his innocence so obviously proven.

Not when it was all being broadcast live over the wireless for everyone to hear. No chance to use the Daily Prophet to lie and cover it up. They'd had no choice but to all go along with it despite personal feelings.

The chains were now gone and Sirius stood up shakily, refusing to let any more weakness be seen then that, he stared straight up ahead at Dumbledore. Waiting for the question he knew would be asked.

The aged warlock sighed deeply, peering around the Wizengamot. "I feel I must ask, for a curious magical world and for future sufferers of the kiss, how is it that you still stand amongst us with your soul intact?" He intoned quietly. Yet it was still heard across the chamber.

Sirius straightened, eyes hardening as he faced the chamber, "Magic itself knew me, it knew me as Heir to the ancient and noble house of Black. It knew me as JUST!" He roared the last part. Face savage as he glared at the gathered watchers, "It knew me as INNOCENT!" His gaze swept over to the gathered lords and ladies of the Wizengamot, "It knew me… As, PURE!" He bit out. His eyes returned to Dumbledore who was looking at him with an evaluating gaze, "Magic found me worthy. And I was PROTECTED!"

Bullshit. But it sure sounded good, didn't it?

Sirius grinned savagely as the chamber exploded in noise, he was going to make most of them regret it when he was through with changing the world.

His eyes glinted as he repeated something of a mantra in his head, the past and the future meeting with the same goal in mind.

I solemnly swear I'm up to no good….

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