Hogwarts' Golden Glory

The Ministry of Magic's main hall.

The employees were rushing to their respective departments in the early morning when suddenly everyone stopped in their tracks.

The elevator doors opened with a "ding," and four Aurors escorted a gaunt man out.

He was barefoot, wearing only a tattered prison uniform, with marks of shackles still visible on his wrists and ankles.

"That's... Blake?!" Someone gasped.

"Merlin's beard! How did they bring him out?!"

The crowd began to stir; some instinctively reached for their wands, while others stumbled backward and knocked over ink bottles.

The young witch from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement scattered documents all over the floor.

She stared intently at Sirius's face, her lips trembling: "Isn't he... the most dangerous prisoner...?"

-

Just then, an owl flapped its wings and flew into the hall, dropping a stack of brand-new copies of the Daily Prophet.

The front page features two huge headlines side by side:

Minister Fauci sets things right: A major breakthrough in judicial reform!

"Twelve Years of Wrongful Imprisonment! A Shocking Reversal in the Sirius Black Case"

An eerie silence fell over the hall.

People looked down at their newspapers, then looked up at the prisoners surrounded by Aurors.

Sirius Black is young and handsome in the photo, laughing heartily at the camera;

In reality, he was extremely thin, yet he stood tall with a mocking glint in his gray eyes.

"So..." the old wizard at the Magic Repair Shop said slowly, "we've... been wrong all these years?"

Kingsley's steady voice broke the silence: "Please make way, everyone. Mr. Black needs to go to the temporary detention room."

The crowd unconsciously parted to make way for each other.

That name, once despised by the entire magical world, now left everyone bewildered.

Amidst the complex gazes of the crowd, the prisoner walked towards the elevator, newspapers scattered on the floor behind him.

In the front-page photo, Fudge, heavily pregnant, is smiling and waving.

Sirius Black in the elevator was so thin he was just skin and bones.

The temporary detention cells on the ninth basement level of the Ministry of Magic were much brighter than those in Azkaban.

The silver metal fence even seemed to carry a hint of warmth.

Sirius sat on the stone bed, staring at his hands, which were no longer trembling—for the first time in twelve years, his fingertips did not feel cold.

"Want some hot cocoa?" Kingsley slipped a cup through the gap in the fence. "You can tell me if you need anything..."

When Sirius took the cup, he grinned self-deprecatingly.

"Don't worry, they won't do this anymore once your name is cleared."

Kingsley offered Blake some kind words of comfort.

A familiar sound of footsteps came from the end of the corridor.

Dumbledore's blue eyes gleamed slightly behind his half-moon spectacles.

This was the first time he had seen the other person in ten years.

Beside him, Kane Malfoy held a crystal bottle filled with a golden liquid.

"An improved version of the euphoric drug."

Kane placed the bottle on the stone bed, saying, "It can repair the soul damage caused by Dementors."

Sirius raised an eyebrow: "You're being so kind by bringing me medicine? Are you planning to ask me for something else next?"

He didn't believe that the little wizard in front of him would be so kind.

After all, the other party had taken my family's ancestral home last time!

"You're my uncle, after all," Kane said without changing his expression. "My mother's side already has enough lunatics; we don't need another one with a mental illness."

Dumbledore coughed lightly: "Sirius, I should apologize to you, after all, I also thought you..."

Sirius interrupted, "It's alright. I didn't intend to argue—James and Lily are dead, Peter is 'dead,' what's the point of me living?"

"To rot in Azkaban is a form of atonement for Jaime."

"But things are different now, aren't they?"

"Of course they're different!" Sirius suddenly sprang to attention, then staggered due to his weakness.

"That traitor is still alive! Harry—"

His voice suddenly choked, "Merlin, how is Harry now?"

He remembered Kane saying that Harry had had a miserable time all these years.

"Eyes like Lily's," Dumbledore said gently. "Quidditch talent like James's. Tonight you'll be locked up with Ron Weasley and Mr. Neville Longbottom for night outings."

"Merlin, he's just like James!"

Sirius suddenly burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the cell.

“Listen, I don’t need to wait for some damn retrial—” He stood up abruptly, his Azkaban uniform trembling, “I can turn into a dog and crawl out of this damn cage!”

Sirius Black can't wait to see Harry.

"and then?"

Kane interrupted coldly, "Let the whole of Britain know that Harry Potter's godfather is an escaped madman?"

His eyes, sharp as knives, stared directly at the other man. "The Daily Prophet has already portrayed you as a 'tragic hero,' but the moment you step out of here—"

Dumbledore sighed and added, "What Harry needs is a godfather who can take him in with dignity, not a fugitive on a wanted list."

Sirius's chest heaved violently before he finally sat heavily back on the bed.

He also took a small sip of the euphoria from the stone bed.

Those bloodshot eyes instantly regained their clarity.

He also found that his mind had indeed calmed down, and that escaping would not be good for anyone.

"The retrial date has not yet been set."

Kane pulled a roll of parchment from his sleeve. "Wesengamour has prepared evidence of your memories, but we need you to keep them..."

He carefully considered his words, "basic human appearance."

"I need to shave," Sirius said, stroking his bushy beard and suddenly becoming serious.

After the group left, the detention cell returned to silence.

Dobby the house-elf appeared with a "snap," holding a brand-new dark green robe and a silver razor.

"Master asked Dobby to restore Blake to human form. Does Mr. Blake need hot water?" Dobby asked in a shrill voice, his ears twitching excitedly. "Dobby can steal—borrow! Borrow the big copper kettle from the kitchen!"

Sirius took the razor, its blade gleaming coldly in the light: "No need, little guy."

He stroked his unkempt beard. "These scars..."

His fingertips traced the scar on his cheek from when Little Pettigrew blew him up. "It's good to keep it; it reminds me that there are some scores I haven't settled yet."

On Sunday night, Hogwarts Castle was shrouded in a thin mist.

Harry Potter wrapped his robes tighter around himself, and his breath quickly dissipated in the cold air.

He, Ron, and Neville stood at the castle gate, waiting for Filch.

"Nine o'clock sharp," Ron glanced nervously at his watch. "Hagrid had better be on time. I don't want to get another 'tag' from Filch for being late."

Neville, however, was unusually excited. His round face glowed red in the moonlight, and he clutched the Fantastic Beasts Handbook tightly in his hand.

Do you think we'll really see a unicorn?