Chapter Text
Sirius Black was a man of little words after entering Azkaban nine years ago. There wasn’t much to say to the Death Eaters rotting away or the dementors flying around the island. He didn’t pay much attention to anything going on. There wasn’t anything new or interesting to stumble upon.
Then Cornelius Fudge decided to visit one day as the newly appointed Minister for Magic. There, again, wasn’t anything special happening. He just wanted to flaunt who was in charge now to the decaying prisoners.
Sirius didn’t want to care about the arrival. The pomp and circumstance around this man who was going to continue to let him lie in here forever for a crime he didn’t commit. He didn’t necessarily care for the last Minister, Millicent Bagnold, as she was in charge when he got thrown in here. But his hopes were not much higher for this one either.
But there was a newspaper tucked in his arm. Sirius took notice of the fact that it wasn’t the edition announcing Fudge’s election. It was of a red headed family. The Weasleys. Proudly held, tight to his chest, in the hands of the third oldest boy, was a rat. Missing a finger on his front paw.
Peter.
That made Sirius sit up straight. Anger fueling within his entire body.
”Minister Fudge,” Sirius stated, trying to sound as respectful as possible. “Could I take a look at that?”
Some of the dementors closed around them. Sirius gulped. Even though they didn’t affect him as much as the other prisoners, due to his innocence, he still never liked to take the chance of gaining their attention.
Cornelius Fudge eyed the man carefully as he took in his surroundings. What could a man behind bars truly do to harm him? He shrugged minutely and handed the paper off. Sirius looked at it like a hungry dog who hasn’t eaten in a month.
”What is it, Black?” Cornelius asked. This was one of his first little parades around Magical Britain, and he wasn’t expecting to already be met with a man of such a curious nature.
Cornelius knew what Sirius Black had done. He knew the power all Blacks had. He didn’t like the thought of giving one of them even a hint of mercy.
”The Weasley family,” Sirius started. “Do you know much about this rat they have?”
Cornelius was taken aback. “No, Black, I don’t necessarily ascertain myself to the family pets of random school children.”
”This is no regular family pet, Minister. This rat is an animagus,” Sirius said calmly, despite the fire in his bones begging to tear the bars off of this cell, so he can find Peter himself.
”We have every animagus on a registry. None are rats,” Fudge laughed humourlessly.
”None of the registered animagus are rats,” Sirius corrected him. “Minister, I couldn’t care less about proving my innocence. That rat belongs behind bars, and he’s the one who betrayed the Potters.”
Fudge shook his head, surprised in himself that he was entertaining this nonsense. Sirius Black, the known secret keeper for the Potters location and betrayer to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. “And who might that be?”
”Peter Pettigrew.”
Now Cornelius was sure he’d lost it.
”The man you killed?” the Minister clarified, hoping to have heard a different name. Something to make this more believable.
“He’s not dead!” Sirius proclaimed, losing his forced composure for just a moment.
His voice felt raw going that loud. Not much to drink in Azkaban and the only vocalisations usually made are screams or moans in torture.
Sirius calmed himself once more, straightening himself back to his days as the Heir to an Ancient and Noble House within Magical Britain. “Minister, I assure you that it would be within your best interest to listen to me on this. It would be a great first step in your office to right the injustices of the previous administration. Have the House of Black on your side.”
Cornelius’s ears perked up at this. A way to look good in front of Magical Britain? He couldn’t say no to at least looking behind the scenes.
”Narcissa?” he whispered. “On my side?”
Sirius was taken aback. He didn’t dare turn to look at the other prisoners. “Narcissa Malfoy has my seat? What of my mother?”
Cornelius tensed his shoulders, “You never learned of your mother’s passing?”
Sirius clenched the newspaper in his hands. Not of anger or mourning. Things left unsaid. That he didn’t get to see that miserable, old bitch get what was coming for her. How she felt about Regulus…
”I promise to you, Minister. If I see a day when Pettigrew behind bars for his crimes, the House of Black will owe a debt to the Ministry,” he said, not wanting to speak of his mother further. “No matter what Narcissa says.”
The earnestness in his words left an impression on the new Minister. Sirius could see the cogs turning in his head until he nodded and left without saying another word.