Chương 31: Disagreements and compromises
"Bastard," Sirius said with feeling to the door that had just closed behind Dumbledore. "What a sly, shameless bastard!"
James had heard this from his friend more times than he could count. There was a time when he would object, but each time with less insistence. After his stay in Mungo's, he had no desire to argue anymore. The clinic staff knew their work and took good care of the patients, so James didn't feel too inconvenienced by his condition, apart from the complete paralysis of his lower body and the boredom of being stuck in a hospital room. But he knew how to count, and it was clear that by the end of the year, he wouldn't be able to pay for his care unless someone did something. And no one was doing anything, not even Dumbledore, on whom they had all relied for so long.
"You're pretty close to that guy, Arcturus, aren't you?" he asked, ignoring Sirius's cursing.
Sirius gave him a puzzled look, his anger toward the leader of the Order of the Phoenix slowly fading.
"Which Arcturus?" he asked, then finally caught on to what James was saying. "Oh, the former Harry... Yeah, I was his godfather."
"And how was he?"
"How..." Sirius paused, thinking. "Just an ordinary guy. A bit timid in some ways, a bit of a troublemaker in others, but normal overall. He missed his family a lot... He idolized you and Lily, thinking you were his parents. Me, too... he loved me," Sirius said, forcing the word out. "Well, you know I'm no nanny, but I tried. Dumbledore told me to raise him in our way, the Marauder's way. Not that I could've done it any other way. But teaching the kid to be a mischief-maker? No problem."
A mischievous smile flashed across the face of the Muggle neighbor Sirius was borrowing, and a spark of defiance lit up in his eyes.
"Then why did you turn down your grandfather's offer?" James pressed. "Maybe the kid really is unhappy and needs support."
Sirius instantly stopped smiling.
"You know, Prongs, it's shameful. I deceived him more than anyone else—he loved me the most. And now Dumbledore is sending me to deceive him again, I can feel it in my gut. And how can I go to him—a penniless outcast showing up to a titled and wealthy guy—and tell him that he's the unhappy one while I'm doing 'oh so great'? It's laughable."
"With the current government, it's hard to tell who's worse off," James remarked thoughtfully.
"And that's exactly what we, two fools, fought for. We wanted freedom from our parents. And we ended up winning two freedoms: a dump and a gutter. I always told you, Prongs, that your Lily would leave you as soon as the money ran out, and what did you say? That there'd be enough for your lifetime?"
"There wasn't." James sighed. "But you're wrong about her. She still loves me. It's just that Harry is more important to her than anything—she'd leave anyone for him."
"Hey, don't lose heart and forget about that witch. It's never too late to start life over."
"Never, huh..."
"At our age, it's still not too late. I won't leave you, and together, we'll figure something out. Shacklebolt's here now too. He'll work hard for himself, and if they can cure him, they'll cure you too."
"Let's hope it's soon before I go completely broke."
"Hang in there, Prongs, it'll all work out. I'll drop by later tonight, but right now, my Polyjuice is wearing off. I'm going to clean out my house—your witch is right, it's a mess. If something happens and I need to take you somewhere, it won't be to a dump. If Dumbledore had cleared my name, I'd have gotten a job by now, but it's not in his interest, the swine."
Winking encouragingly at his friend, Sirius left. James was not the type to ponder things deeply, but if Sirius was finally cleaning up his place, something in the world had certainly turned upside down. More than that, his best friend had quit drinking altogether recently because alcohol didn't mix well with Polyjuice, and that, too, was a reason for reflection.
After staring blankly at the ceiling for a while, James grabbed the magical bell to call the nurse.
"Can I see Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt?" he asked when she appeared in the doorway.
"I'll ask," she said, turned, and left. While she was gone, James filled his mind with thoughts that had once been occupied by Dumbledore's instructions.
From Sirius's words, James knew that Shacklebolt had visited Grimmauld Place and knew that Sirius Black was part of the Order of the Phoenix and trusted by Dumbledore. Black's main crime was betraying the Potters, but they were alive and could confirm that Sirius couldn't have betrayed them since he was Harry's magical guardian. Pettigrew hadn't killed the Muggles either—this could be proven with Veritaserum. Before vanishing into the Veil, which Dumbledore had shielded and turned into a Portkey, Sirius had fought alongside the Order, and many had seen it.
It all seemed so simple. Why had he waited for Dumbledore to handle it?
The nurse returned with a wheelchair and helped James into it.
"The Minister is very busy, so please try not to take up too much of his time, Mr. Potter," she politely warned, pushing James down the hallway to Shacklebolt's room.
The current Minister of Magic sat in a wheelchair like James's, behind a desk piled high with papers and folders. Frowning, he was reviewing a document.
"James," he nodded, turning at the sound of the wheels.
"Good afternoon, Kingsley."
"How's your health?" the dark-skinned minister asked.
"Unchanged. If this keeps up, boredom will be the death of me."
"Well, I'm not bored." Shacklebolt gestured to the desk. "Feels like I never left the office. If you've come to chat, James, sorry, I'm swamped. The collapse everywhere is just…"
"No, I've got business. It's about clearing Sirius Black's name."
"He's dead. He's not going anywhere, and I have plenty of urgent matters," the former Auror gave James a sharp, perceptive look, his eyes lighting up with suspicion. "Or is he alive too? What's going on with you and Dumbledore?"
"Well… something like that..."
"Then why is he hiding?"
"Sirius has been labeled a criminal since Fudge's time, and his status as a fugitive is still in place. He can't show his face in public without getting caught, and you know how fair our justice system is."
"I know, and I'll deal with it. Your son mentioned that Black was innocent and that Pettigrew had framed him."
"You can use Veritaserum on Sirius," James reminded him.
"You're alive, it's proven that Pettigrew was with Voldemort, and as for the Muggles, current laws only impose a fine," Shacklebolt informed him. "Black's name can be cleared through the Wizengamot, but because of this illness, I can't attend. Let's do this: I'll issue a ministerial decree pardoning Sirius Black and have it published in the press. If Black wants a full exoneration, we'll deal with that later."
James was stunned—this was even easier than he'd thought. Kingsley smiled, watching his reaction.
"That's what courts are for, to protect honest citizens. The decree will be published in tomorrow's *Prophet, and after that, Black can show himself in public. Tell him to come see me—I have an offer for him."
"I'll let him know. Can I ask what the offer is, or is it a secret?"
"No secret. I need reliable people in the Auror office. Too many scoundrels have crept in, and they're running wild. Here's a complaint from Lady Malfoy, for example, that some Aurors tried to assault her underage guest while on duty." Shacklebolt nodded toward the paper he had been reading. "She sent the same complaint to the International Confederation of Wizards, and now I have to deal with it. Why didn't you tell me about Black sooner?"
James hesitated. Why, indeed, had he, an adult and full-fledged citizen of magical Britain, the father of *the* Harry Potter, sat around waiting for Dumbledore to handle it?
"Er… Dumbledore said we should wait until he sorts it all out."
"James, with all due respect to Dumbledore… He's a very old man. I'm not saying he's senile, but he was born over a century ago, and he's too old to evaluate the current situation adequately. In my last conversation with him, I realized that he's long outlived his wisdom and his era. Instead of collaborating normally, he's trying to weave some petty schemes and still imagines he's dealing with the same kids who studied under him in Hogwarts many years ago. He still calls people boys and girls—we're grown now."
James had nothing to say to that. He hung his head guiltily.
"Don't get discouraged, James," Kingsley encouraged him. "There comes a time in everyone's life when it's time to step out from under the protection of our elders and form our own opinions, though it's not always easy. By the way, the Blacks have always had a deep knowledge of dark magic, and the healers say that what we're suffering from has dark magical origins. Maybe your friend could offer some advice?"
"I'll ask, but Sirius cut ties with his family early on and always avoided dark magic. If he knew how to help, he would have said something by now."
"Then you and he should think it over and try to recall who in Britain still understands dark magical ailments. Even if they aren't fully loyal to us, maybe we can come to an agreement."
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