Amelia Bones scowled down at the papers on her desk as if they were her greatest enemies.

Ever since the mass breakout from Azkaban and the sudden surge in Dark Wizard activity, she had been clawing at the shadows to find the root of the problem.

Every instinct she possessed told her the Dark Lord had returned, yet the Ministry itself seemed to be at war with the very idea of an investigation.

She was hindered at every turn, met with insufficient funding and the sheer incompetence of the departments she was forced to rely on.

The situation had only grown worse when the Dark Wizard activities lessened before stopping entirely.

Even the occasional fool looking to torment Muggles had ceased his antics, as if every dark wizard in the world had taken a collective holiday.

This silence had only emboldened the Ministry to undermine her more openly. They created endless hoops of paperwork for her to jump through, stalling even the most menial tasks.

At the center of it all was that pink toad, Dolores Umbridge.

The woman would slither into Amelia’s office with a sickeningly sweet smile and a flurry of giggles, handing over mountains of new responsibilities that ultimately achieved nothing but the waste of time.

Amelia paused when she noticed a letter sitting on her desk that had not been there a moment before.

It had appeared as if from thin air, wrapped in a completely black envelope that seemed to swallow the light.

She stood up instantly, her wand leveled at the parchment. For ten minutes, she rained diagnostic charms upon it, inspecting every corner for curses or hidden traps.

The only magic she could detect was a sophisticated form of spatial manipulation, the kind of advanced sorcery that would have been required to bypass every Ministry defense to land directly on her desk.

She marveled at the complexity of it for a heartbeat before she took a deep breath and opened the envelope.

Her eyes narrowed as she read the contents. By the time she reached the final line, a sharp scoff escaped her lips.

She held the letter in her right hand and, with a flick of her will, wandlessly burned it into a fine gray ash.

She placed her elbows on the table and intertwined her fingers, resting her chin upon her hands as she considered the contents of the letter.

“Edgar,” she called out.

The office door creaked open, and a young man poked his head inside. “Madam?”

“Could you take care of this for me?” Amelia asked, gesturing vaguely to the mountains of pointless paperwork scattered across her desk. “Just sort the important documents into a pile for me to sign later. Burn the rest.”

She stood up and smoothed her robes before Edgar could even process the order. The young assistant moved to her seat with a slight smile and began sorting the mess.

Amelia moved with purposeful steps to the Floo fireplaces. She stepped into the green flames and vanished, appearing a moment later in another sector of the Ministry before quickly making her way to the surface.

She walked through the streets of London until she stood in front of a quiet cafe in Islington. A hand-painted sign hanging above the door read ‘Bracken & Coil’ tucked away in a narrow brick frontage that led to a dark green wooden door.

It was a Muggle establishment, and she appreciated the dim, quiet interior as she took a seat at a table by the second window.

A young man working behind the counter looked over at her, raised an eyebrow, and then shook his head with a wry smile as he approached.

“What can I get you, Ma’am?” he asked politely.

“What is with the wry smile, young man?” Amelia asked, her voice stern but not unkind.

“Pardon me, Ma’am. But I recognized you as a witch the moment I saw your attire. You don’t quite blend as well as you think,” he answered with a soft chuckle.

Amelia’s stern mask softened. The easygoing attitude of the young man was a refreshing change from the sycophants at the Ministry. She even allowed a ghost of a smile to touch her lips.

“I will leave my order to your discretion, then. And tell me, how is a young wizard like you working in a place like this?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“My dad owns the place,” the boy said with a shrug. “I’m just helping out.”

He hummed a tune to himself as he moved back behind the counter to prepare the coffee. Amelia watched him for a moment before a voice addressed the boy from behind her.

“Make that two, Justin.”

A man stepped into the light and stood beside Amelia’s table. “May I?”

Amelia looked at him intently, her eyes tracing the lines of his face. She gave a curt, sharp nod.

Sirius Black smiled and sat down across from her. He immediately placed his hands flat on the table, intertwining his fingers to show he was not reaching for a wand. It was a gesture meant to make her feel safe, or at least to acknowledge the power she held.

Amelia raised an eyebrow but kept her own hands beneath the table, her fingers hovering near her holster as she waited for him to speak.

“I assume you have read the file the Ministry keeps on me,” Sirius said, that shadow of a smile still playing on his lips.

“I did,” was her blunt reply.

“Let me guess how many pages are in that grand document,” Sirius muttered, looking toward the window as if he were truly trying to calculate the number. “Two? If I’m being generous. One page that states my crime, and another that has the word Guilty written in bold letters.” He let out a dry, barking chuckle.

“What is your point, Black?” Amelia asked with a neutral expression.

“My point is that I never had a trial. Barty Crouch gave me one look and sent me straight to hell.” Sirius’s eyes narrowed, the humor vanishing for a fleeting second.

The tension broke when Justin reappeared at their side, carrying two lattes and a plate of fresh pastries.

“Thanks, lad,” Sirius said with a nod. The young man gave them a wave and a smile before heading back to his duties.

“Thank you,” Amelia added softly. she picked up her coffee and took a slow sip, letting the warmth settle her nerves. “So. You want a trial?” She asked.

Sirius scoffed at the question. He knew Amelia had seen the gaps in his record. She was a woman of law, and she had undoubtedly realized the file was a farce, a stain on the department she now led.

And her was right, every time Sirius’ name had crossed her mind in recent months, a nagging doubt had gnawed at her.

“How generous,” Sirius said, his voice dripping with irony. “But I cannot afford to waste my time with the Wizengamot right now. I have someone I need to take care of. What I want is ten minutes of your time to explain what actually happened that night.”

Amelia’s scowl deepened. She opened her mouth to shoot back a sharp refusal, but Sirius held up his hands in surrender.

“Would you allow me to take out my wand and make a magical vow right here, in front of you?”

Amelia paused. She looked around the cafe; they were effectively alone in their corner. She drew her wand beneath the table and pointed it directly at his chest.

“No funny business, Black.” She sent a tiny, sharp stinging hex to his knee just to remind him she was armed.

“Funny? I don’t even know the meaning of the word,” Sirius said with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He slowly and carefully drew his wand, pointing the tip toward the ceiling. “I, Sirius Black, bind my word before magic and witness. I shall not lie to Amelia Susan Bones. And neither shall I harm her, unless in self-defense.”

He flicked his wand, casting a silent Lumos. The tip lit up with a steady, white glow, confirming the magic had accepted the vow.

This specific binding meant that if he even entertained the thought of breaking the oath, Amelia would sense the shift in the magic before he could act.

Amelia tucked her wand away and placed her hands on the table, a professional show of appreciation for his honesty. She leaned forward, listening intently.

“I’ll order more coffee and some pastries,” Sirius said with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he called Justin over. “You’re going to need them for what I’m about to tell you.”

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