A matter of Law

6

Sirius Black sat staring at the wall of his cell in Azkaban Prison. His mind was focused on two things: the fact he was innocent, and his godson Harry. It was those two things that helped keep him sane in this thin slice of Hell. He assumed it was only the fact those thoughts were more an obsession than happy or cheerful that the Dementors in this place hadn't stolen them from him yet. He did his best to keep track of how long he'd been there, but it wasn't always easy. The days blended together too well to really keep track. He shook his head slightly to stave off a bout of tears and focused instead on Harry. His godson by oath, and the son of one of his best friends in the world. How old would he be now? Seven? Eight? Without someone to tell him what year it was, he only had vague guesses.

I keep hoping someone will come tell me I'm going to finally have a trial. At least then I would know why I'm in this Merlin-damned hellhole. But no one ever told me anything; they just loaded me in a boat and brought me here, he thought, still trying to hold on to those thoughts that he knew to be true.

Sirius had no way of knowing that at that very moment, someone miles away was trying to do everything possible to allow him to leave Azkaban for good.

OOO

Brian Greengrass of Greengrass, Morton, and Stanton, looked carefully around the room he'd been shown into moments before by a house elf. It looked to be a small, well-appointed study, with shelves of books off to the side and a large mahogany desk near the window. It was at the desk that he saw the current Head of House Black, Lord Arcturus Black. He briefly inclined his head in a gesture of respect.

"Lord Black, thank you for taking the time to see me, my name is Brian Greengrass."

"You said in your letter that you had something of importance to discuss with me, Mr. Greengrass. What is this matter of importance that you would travel here from London to speak to me about?"

"As I said in my letter, sir, it's a matter regarding your grandson, Sirius Black."

"Sirius is in Azkaban. Has been ever since 1981. Why would you want to discuss him?"

"Lord Black, it came to the attention of one of my partners while working on another case that there may be some-irregularities-regarding your grandson's incarceration. What I would like to do, with your permission, is look over the copy of the transcript for your grandson's trial, and make sure that everything is in order."

"I'm sorry, but that's impossible."

"My apologies, Lord Black, but are you saying it's impossible because you won't give permission for me to read the transcript?" Brian asked, confused.

"No, Mr. Greengrass, I'm saying it's impossible because I was never given a copy of the trial transcript. I can't give you permission to read what I don't have."

"And you didn't find that unusual, sir? Ordinarily the Head of a family is given such documentation in the event the Head wishes to change things in regard to the estate, such as bequests in a will or property transfers."

"I was put off every time I asked about it, Mr. Greengrass. And yes, I found it unusual. The Wizengamot was quick enough to send me the transcript when they tried and convicted one of my cousins, Bellatrix Lestrange. Sirius is my Heir, so of course it's unusual I don't have the transcript for the trial. I was only notified he'd been taken to Azkaban and what his prisoner number was, nothing else. So why don't you tell me why you're asking about my grandson after all this time that he's been in prison?"

"Lord Black, are you familiar with the name Harry Potter?"

"I'm old, Mr. Greengrass, but I'm not senile yet. Of course I'm familiar with the name. The boy is Sirius' godson, as well as a designated Heir for Sirius until and unless he has a son of his own. Why do you ask?"