A little over ten minutes later.
Vincent found himself back on the small island housing Azkaban.
The Hit Wizards there, of course, had no idea that in the mere day since Vincent had left, so much had already happened out in the world. By the time news made it in via newspaper, it'd probably be a week later.
When Vincent produced the warrant and unlocked the cell door, Sirius Black stared at him, dumbfounded, double- and triple-checking there wasn't some mistake, before finally being half-dragged out with the "help" of two Hit Wizards.
"You're free, Sirius. Though before that, you'll need to appear in court to testify."
Vincent handed the warrant to Sirius. "Given your courage in exposing Peter Pettigrew's crimes, your past contributions to the wizarding world, and the injustice of your wrongful imprisonment, the Ministry will be offering you appropriate compensation — including, but not limited to, securing you an Order of Merlin."
"Huh?"
A minute ago he'd been picking at his toenails in a cell. Now someone was telling him they'd get him an Order of Merlin?
Sirius felt fairly certain something, somewhere, had gone seriously wrong with the universe.
Vincent turned and walked a couple of steps before noticing Sirius still standing there dumbly at the cell door, and looked back. "Even if you don't want to see Harry Potter, aren't you at least interested in Peter Pettigrew's trial?"
"!!!"
A dangerous glint flared in Sirius's eyes at once. "Where's Peter right now?"
"In court, obviously, awaiting the punishment he deserves. You're the sole witness against him — if you don't show up, he might just walk free for lack of evidence."
"Take me there!!!"
The two of them walked out together, passing cell after cell holding Death Eaters. Seeing Sirius actually walking free, the resigned prisoners scrambled back to their bars, shouting "I'm innocent!" all over again.
Sirius, furious, ignored his own weakened state entirely, running from cell to cell, throwing punches and kicks — hitting hardest of all at his own cousin, Bellatrix.
The more he hit her, the more excited, more manic she became, screaming louder about what her Master would do — which only stoked Sirius's fury further.
If the accompanying Hit Wizards hadn't intervened, he'd have strangled her outright.
"Hah... hah..."
Sirius sat on the ground, breathing hard, scanning the room, fists clenched, his chest burning as if set alight.
Bellatrix, bruised and bloodied, was still shrieking her manic taunts.
Vincent thought it over, then leaned in close and murmured, "Do you remember that thing your great Master told you, over and over, to guard closely?"
"!!!"
The manic grin on Bellatrix's face froze.
"I wonder — once your Master returns and finds his treasure missing, will he assume you simply lost it by accident, or that you betrayed him?"
Vincent was, of course, referring to the Hufflepuff Cup Voldemort had hidden away in the Lestrange family vault — another Horcrux.
Her expression shifted instantly to raw terror, her whole body beginning to shake.
Vincent said nothing further, glancing at Sirius. "If we don't get moving, Pettigrew's going to walk free."
Sirius scrambled up at once, casting Vincent a look tinged with new wariness — compared to himself, a man who only knew how to throw punches, someone who could reduce a madwoman like Bellatrix to trembling terror with just a few sentences was the truly frightening one.
Vincent, honestly, felt a bit helpless about all this too.
In his original plan, he'd meant to spend his time at Hogwarts quietly researching a cure for himself, secretly building up his strength, using his foreknowledge of the plot to work things behind the scenes.
Instead, he'd woken up one day in the Lord of Mysteries world, and by the time he'd come back, he had strength that let him practically walk unopposed through the entire wizarding world — no more need for careful, secretive scheming at all.
Plans really never do keep pace with how things actually unfold.
By the time Vincent announced, on his way out, that he wouldn't be returning to Azkaban again, no one was happier than the dementors — that self-cannibalizing demon was finally leaving!
This called for a full three days of uninterrupted feasting at Azkaban, in celebration!
As for the prisoners on the receiving end of that feast — well, tough luck.
...
Peter Pettigrew's trial went off without a hitch.
Honestly, even without Sirius's testimony, with everyone already in agreement on the facts, his fate had been sealed from the start.
The final verdict was simple enough: given the sheer weight of his crimes, Peter Pettigrew would be permanently imprisoned in Azkaban, until his death.
Even though this was already the harshest sentence British wizarding law allowed, Sirius clearly wasn't satisfied — not just because of Pettigrew's betrayal, but because of the fury his own guilt had curdled into.
Back then, Sirius had willingly let himself be locked away in Azkaban precisely because he'd been the one clever enough to hand off Secret-Keeper duties to Pettigrew, ultimately getting James and Lily killed.
In his own eyes, that made him responsible for their deaths (and, in a sense, he was right), and he'd given up resisting out of guilt, willingly accepting imprisonment as his own penance.
Not until he learned Pettigrew was still alive did that decade of accumulated guilt transform, all at once, into blind fury toward him — nothing short of killing the man himself could put out that fire raging inside him.
Rather than offer comfort the way Dumbledore might, Vincent simply said, casual, "Sirius, ever consider a job as an Azkaban guard? I could write you a recommendation letter."
"..."
Sirius stared at him, stunned. The harshest punishment he could imagine for Pettigrew had always been killing him with his own hands — but this man Charles seemed to be offering him something even better.
He nodded firmly at once. "I'll seriously consider it."
Beside them, Dumbledore looked like he wanted to say something, but ultimately just shook his head with a sigh. "Rather than dwelling on all that — don't you want to go see Harry first?"
"Harry..."
Sirius suddenly grew visibly flustered, his hands rising and falling, unsure where to put them, his eyes darting anxiously.
"Don't worry, Sirius. Harry already knows. He says he'd very much like to see you."
Dumbledore said, gentle. "I've already sent word to Remus as well — he should be waiting for you at Hogwarts by now."
"Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore."
Dumbledore gave a light smile. "You should be thanking Charles." He paused. "Oh, and you must remember his parents — Chen and his wife — they were Order of the Phoenix members too, once."
Sirius lowered his head. "I remember. They were also... Bellatrix's... If I'd gotten there sooner, maybe things would've turned out differently..."
"Well, let's leave the past in the past."
"I..."
"Oh! This must be Sirius Black!"
Just then, a voice suddenly rang out, and Fudge came waddling over, his bulky frame lumbering forward, gripping Sirius's hands warmly. "On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, allow me to express my sincere regret over your ordeal!"
As he spoke, he wasn't even looking at Sirius — his attention was already turning toward the reporters' flashing cameras, striking a rapid succession of poses amid the clatter of shutters.
Then he launched into another round of empty platitudes, entirely indifferent to Sirius's obvious discomfort and awkwardness.
Dumbledore and Vincent exchanged a glance — one shaking his head, resigned, the other struggling not to laugh — and stepped aside together, leaving Fudge to enjoy the spotlight.
"Charles."
Dumbledore said quietly, "Would you mind telling me what else you plan to do at the Ministry, going forward?"
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