The heavy wooden doors of Courtroom Ten creaked shut behind them as Harry, Sirius, and Dumbledore emerged into the corridor of the Ministry of Magic. The torchlight cast dancing shadows on the stone walls, illuminating their faces with a warm glow. Dumbledore led the way, his silver beard gleaming as he strode forward with measured steps.

  Harry couldn't stop grinning as he walked alongside his godfather. After all these months, justice had finally prevailed. Though Sirius's black robes hung loose on his gaunt frame, and his face still bore the haunting marks of Azkaban, his grey eyes sparkled with a vitality that seemed to erase years of suffering.

  "Free," Sirius whispered, then let out a bark-like laugh that echoed through the corridor. "Finally free!"

  Harry's own joy bubbled up uncontrollably, and he found himself laughing alongside his godfather. The sound of their shared laughter seemed to chase away the last remnants of gloom from the Ministry's underground passages.

  Sirius placed a thin hand on Harry's shoulder, his expression softening as he studied his godson's face. "You know, you're the spitting image of James at your age," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "But those eyes..." He shook his head, smiling. "Pure Lily. She had that same striking green, always full of fire and life."

  As they approached the elevator, Sirius straightened his tattered robes with as much dignity as he could muster. "Well, I suppose I should make myself presentable before showing up at Hogwarts. Can't have your classmates thinking you're associated with a vagrant." He winked at Harry. "Though I must say, prison fashion has really shaped my signature look. Perhaps I'll start a trend."

  Harry couldn't help but snort at his godfather's unexpected humor.

  They shared a quiet laugh as they stepped into the atrium—only to find Cornelius Fudge waiting for them, his bowler hat perched awkwardly atop his head. Beside him stood a stout, pink-clad woman, her wide, toad-like smile fixed in place.

  Dumbledore stopped first, his expression unreadable. “Minister,” he greeted calmly.

  “Ah, Dumbledore, Sirius, my boy!” Fudge’s voice was overly jovial, but his eyes darted toward the reporters lingering near the fireplaces. “Quite the eventful day, eh?” He tugged at his collar. “I must say, we at the Ministry are very pleased with the fair and just proceedings.”

  Sirius crossed his arms, unimpressed. “You mean the trial that never should have been needed in the first place?”

  Fudge cleared his throat loudly. “Yes, well—these things happen. Mistakes are made, but we correct them, don’t we?” His chuckle was forced.

  Before Sirius could retort, the woman beside Fudge gave a dainty cough. “Hem hem.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Dolores Umbridge,” she introduced herself in a syrupy voice. “Senior Undersecretary to the Minister.” Her beady eyes landed on Sirius. “My, my, I must say, Mr. Black, it’s so good to see that the system does occasionally work, even for… well… certain individuals.”

  Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Certain individuals?”

  Umbridge giggled a high, artificial sound. “Oh, no offense meant, of course. It’s just that some people do find it… concerning when old family names, shall we say, flirt with less savory influences.” She tilted her head in mock innocence. “Dark pasts are so difficult to shake off, aren’t they?”

  Harry clenched his fists, but Sirius merely smirked. “Oh, you mean the past where I was wrongfully imprisoned? Yes, that’s been inconvenient.”

  Dumbledore, ever composed, stepped in smoothly. “I trust, Minister, that Mr. Black’s innocence will be made unequivocally clear to the public?”

  Fudge fidgeted. “Yes, yes, of course! There will be an official statement.”

  “Of course,” Sirius drawled, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Wouldn’t want the public thinking the Ministry messed up or anything.”

  Fudge’s face reddened. “Now, now, let’s not dwell on the past! Enjoy your freedom, Black. And, er, let’s keep things civil, shall we?”

  Umbridge flashed another sugary smile. “Yes. We wouldn’t want any troublemakers causing a scene.”

  Sirius gave her the most dazzling, insincere grin imaginable. “Oh, don’t worry, Madam Undersecretary. I plan to be on my best behavior.”

  The moment they stepped outside, a blinding storm of camera flashes erupted around them. Harry barely had time to register what was happening before a horde of reporters swarmed in, shoving quills and notepads in his face.

  “Mr. Black! Mr. Potter! Headmaster Dumbledore!” Questions flew at them from all directions.

  But none were louder—or faster—than Rita Skeeter. Clad in an impeccably pressed white suit with emerald-green nails tapping against her notepad, she lunged forward with predatory enthusiasm.

  “Harry! Rita Skeeter, "Daily Prophet"! What do you have to say about today’s shocking verdict? Did you always believe in Sirius Black’s innocence? Did you "personally" uncover evidence to exonerate him?”

  Harry blinked at the absurdity of the question, even if the answer was ‘yes’, Harry knew for a fact the woman was asking for the sake of it.

  “What does this mean for "you", Harry? Rumors suggest this is just the beginning of a larger scandal—will you be taking on the Ministry next? Are you officially challenging the Wizengamot’s judicial integrity?”

  Sirius let out a low whistle. “Merlin’s beard, Skeeter, do you even breathe between questions?”

  Ignoring him, she leaned in closer to Harry, quill poised eagerly. “Tell us, Harry! What was it like, standing in that courtroom, hearing the truth finally come to light? Did you feel vindicated? Were you afraid?”

  Harry squared his shoulders, and said, “I am just happy that my Godfather, Sirius Black, finally got justice.”

  Skeeter’s eyes gleamed like a cat spotting prey. “Justice, hmm? Some say this exposes deep flaws within the Ministry’s legal system. Would you agree that corruption played a role in Mr. Black’s imprisonment?”

  Before Harry could reply, Dumbledore smoothly interjected, his tone calm but commanding. “I believe young Mr. Potter has said enough for today, Ms. Skeeter. Justice has been served—that is what matters.”

  Skeeter pouted but turned to Sirius instead. “Mr. Black! Now that you’re "a free man", what’s next for you? Any plans for a "triumphant" return to wizarding society? Perhaps a "tell-all memoir" about your time in Azkaban?”

  Sirius gave her a slow, lazy grin. “Oh, absolutely. I was thinking of titling it "Ten Years a Convict: How the Ministry Ruins Lives and Gets Away with It."

  A ripple of laughter passed through the crowd, and even Harry smirked. Skeeter, however, was undeterred.