Work Text:
Fandom: Harry Potter
Main Relationship: Sirius Black and Harry Potter
Side Pairing: background Kingsley Shacklebolt/Sophie Violet
Warnings: alternate universe; background mentions of het; and original character (Sophie Violet)
Prompt: (Word) Red
Summary: In which Sirius Black found himself in St. Mungos.
Unexpected
When Sirius Black opened his eyes, he noticed the unfamiliar ceiling. This ceiling was made up of white ceiling tiles. This clearly wasn’t Azkaban or a cave. Honestly, he couldn’t remember where he fell asleep. After noticing the ceiling tiles, Sirius started taking note of his surroundings. He was laying on a soft mattress with no aches in his body. This was the best his body felt in ages – before going to Azkaban. That realization made Sirius tense. His mind began to race, trying to recall recent events.
He was attacked by dementors with Harry.
Harry!
A sense of panic filled Sirius.
Where was Harry?
He forced himself into a sitting position, allowing him to look around. He was in a small room with soft blue walls, a single bed, and three comfortable black armchairs – one of which was occupied by a dark-skinned wizard dressed in off-duty red auror robes. He was seated by the door.
The wizard looked a little startled as he leapt to his feet. He crossed the room to Sirius’ side.
“Stay in bed,” the auror ordered. “The healer will be here soon.”
Sirius forced himself to calm down and listen to the auror. This auror was vaguely familiar. It was likely Sirius knew the other wizard – before Azkaban.
Besides, listening to the auror would allow Sirius to stall – stall his return to dementors or the dementor’s kiss. The thought of the dementors made Siirus shudder.
The door opened, and a dark-skinned witch entered. Her dark hair was pulled back and she wore a white robes, which was unusual for healers. Her dark eyes narrowed as she approached the bed.
“Auror Shacklebolt,” she said, pushing the auror out of her way. Without another word, she reached out and grabbed ahold of Sirius’ inner wrist with her index and middle fingers. She looked down at the watch on wrist.
Silence fell over the room.
Sirius watched. This was odd, and he knew this wasn’t standard practice for healers. Stealing a glance at the auror, Sirius noticed the goofy expression – just like the one James wore when Lily was around.
Barely expressing an eye roll, Sirius turned his attention back to the healer.
The healer finished and she dropped Sirius’ wrist.
“Good morning, Mr. Black,” she greeted, offering a polite nod of her head. Turning, she offered the auror a glance. “You may wait outside, Auror Shacklebolt. I need privacy with my patient.” Her tone was firm, leaving little room for argument.
The auror – Shacklebolt – turned and left the room without a complaint.
Sirius took a moment to think. He did recognize the name Shacklebolt – the family was a Sacred one, like the Blacks – and he vaguely recalled an auror by the name, an undercover specialist.
“Before I answer any of your questions,” the healer began, “I have a few to ask you.”
Sirius said nothing as he watched the healer.
“What is your full name?” she asked.
Frowning, Sirius eyed the healer. Didn’t she know who he was? Was this some kind of test?
“The sooner you answer, the sooner I’ll explain,” the healer said. “And the sooner you can ask questions.”
“Sirius Orion Black,” he replied. He had a lot of questions, starting with his godson. He knew he could trust the healer. She was bound by her oaths, preventing her from sharing information with others.
“What’s your date of birth?”
“Third of November 1959.”
“What month and year is it?”
“June 1994.”
“How long were you in Azkaban?”
“Twelve years.”
“Did you receive a trial?”
Sirius stared at her, narrowing his eyes a little. What kind of question was that? “No,” he answered.
The healer nodded. “I feel confident you’ve recovered from your recent exposure to dementors,” she concluded. “I will continue to treat you for malnourishment and other side effects from your unlawful Azkaban imprisonment.”
At a loss for words, Sirius continued to stare at her.
The healer offered him a small smirk. “I’m Healer Sophie Violet,” she said. “You were brought into eight days ago after Poppy Pomfrey performed an initial evaluation, and you were placed in a potion-included coma.”
Listening, Sirius found himself carefully nodding.
“In the following days,” the healer continued, “it was discovered you never received a trial and Mr. Potter was adamant that someone else betrayed his parents and later framed you for murder.”
The mention of his godson drew Sirius’ attention. “How is Harry?” he asked.
The healer stared at him for a few seconds before answering. “I don’t know much,” Healer Violet answered. “Mr. Potter was admitted and he was released two days ago.”
Sirius’ eyes widened. His mind filled with endless questions, but he knew it was pointless to ask. Until he was legally appointed Harry’s guardian, he had no right to know specific details. “Was he sent back to those muggles ?” he asked, bitterness in his tone. Sirius knew he wouldn’t be deemed a suitable guardian, but he needed to get Harry removed from those muggles soon.
Healer Violet’s eyes narrowed as she watched him. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I would suggest having your lawyer contact Mr. Potter’s.”
Nodding, Sirius’ mind started to race. He needed to contact someone – maybe cousin Andromeda or Remus – to assist him with everything . He needed two lawyers – the best money could pay for – one to present his criminal case to the Wizengamot and the other to handle custody of Harry and dealing with the Black estate. Honestly, the Black estate could wait. Sirius had plenty of money and he could easily find a new residence for him and Harry.
“I need an owl,” Sirius stated, “and writing supplies.” He had several letters to send.
Healer Violet nodded. “Do you have any other questions?” she asked.
Sirius paused for a moment. “When will I be sent back to Azkaban?” he asked. He needed to know how much time he had and how to prioritize – a defense lawyer and Harry were the most important.
The healer frowned. “You won’t be returning for a while,” she answered. “You will return if you’re found guilty after your trial.”
That was something Sirius could work with. “Is there a trial date?” he asked. Maybe after sending letters, he could convince Remus or Andromeda to summarize The Daily Prophet and renew his subscription to The Quibbler and The International Magic .
“There isn’t,” Healer Violet replied. “Anything regarding a trial is pending magical and mental evaluations.”
Sirius nodded, freezing. He was relative sane – as sane a Black could be thanks to his animagus form. He was probably too sane after twelve years in Azkaban.
The healer smirked. “If I didn’t know any better, Mr. Black,” she began, “I won’t believe you spent twelve years in Azkaban and you were nearly Kissed.”
Sirius offered his charming smile. “I’m a Black,” he stated.
Healer Violet’s smirk widened. “There’s more to it than that, Mr. Black,” she stated. “Keep your secrets, if you must.”
He nodded.
“I will Auror Shacklebolt in with parchment, ink and quill,” she said.
“Why is Auror Shacklebolt here?” he asked. He assumed the auror was here to watch Sirius to ensure he wouldn’t escape.
“For your protection,” the healer answered. “There are numerous threats.” Healer Violet paused for a moment before adding, “Mrs. Pettigrew is upset and she is vocal.”
Sirius wedged. Peter and his mother were close, and he could imagine Mrs. Pettigrew was upset. There was no telling how she would react when she found out that Wormtail was still alive.
Healer Violet turned and she left the room without another word.
Sirius was left alone for a few minutes before Auror Shacklebolt returned with an armful of parchment, an inkwell, and a quill.
“Here,” he said, placing the items next to Sirius.
An awkward silence fell between them
“Can I transfigure you a tray or something to write on?” the auror asked.
Sirius nodded as he picked up the quill. It was odd to hold one after all these years.
Shacklebolt transfigured a tray, leaving it next to Sirius before the auror walked to the armchair he previously occupied.
Left with some privacy, Sirius placed the parchment on the tray as he began to mental draft the letters. He dipped the quill in the inkwell and began to write:
Dear Andromeda,
I assume you’ve heard the news. I’m in St. Mungos and I’ve been granted a trial.