Chapter 6

In the hushed corridors of the Ministry of Magic, Amelia Bones was pacing like a caffeine-fueled squirrel, clearly wrestling with a cocktail of anticipation and nerves. The door creaked open, and in shuffled Sirius Black, looking like he'd spent the last decade in a particularly grim and drafty attic. His eyes, though tired, still sparkled with a glimmer of recognition as they landed on Amelia.

"Sirius," Amelia said, her voice cracking slightly as though it hadn't been used for actual conversations in a while. She managed a weak smile. "It's been… a while."

Sirius straightened up, trying to look more dignified than a disheveled scarecrow. "Amelia," he croaked back. "It's been a really, really long time."

With a dismissive wave, Amelia sent the Aurors out of the room, probably wishing they could handle paperwork instead. When they were alone, Amelia faced Sirius with a determined look that could have convinced a dragon to take a nap.

"Sirius, I can't even imagine what you've been through," she said, her voice a mix of guilt and resolve. "But we're working on clearing your name. Dumbledore and I are pulling out all the stops."

Sirius stepped closer, his eyes softening. "Amelia, how's Harry? Is he safe?"

Amelia's face brightened like someone who'd just found a winning lottery ticket. "He's safe. Harry's with me now. We're making sure he's well taken care of and surrounded by people who actually care about him."

Sirius's shoulders relaxed. "Thank Merlin. I was so afraid. After all these years, I thought I'd failed him."

"You did what you could," Amelia said, trying to sound more comforting than a plushie toy. "Harry's tough. He's been through a lot, but he's a strong kid. And he's not alone anymore."

Sirius's eyes hardened with a mix of protective fury and determination. "I'll do whatever it takes to make sure he's safe. I owe it to James and Lily."

Amelia nodded with the firmness of someone who's made up their mind. "We're going to get you out of here. You deserve a chance to live your life and be there for Harry. We're auditing the trial transcripts and pushing for a fast-tracked trial. If we prove you never had a fair trial, we can clear your name."

Sirius's eyes were filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Amelia. Really. I don't know how to repay you."

Amelia took a deep breath, looking like she was about to drop a major truth bomb. "Sirius, there's something I need to confess. For a long time, I believed you were guilty. I believed the lies. And for that, I'm really, really sorry. I should have questioned everything sooner."

Sirius gave her a look that mixed sympathy with understanding. "It's not your fault, Amelia. But I'm grateful you're here now, fighting for the truth."

Amelia managed a smile that was a bit like a sunrise breaking through storm clouds. "We'll clear your name and give Harry the family he deserves."

Sirius's face turned serious, as if he was about to drop another big revelation. "Amelia, you need to know what really happened that night. I never betrayed James and Lily. Peter Pettigrew did. He was the Secret Keeper for the Fidelius Charm, not me. We switched at the last minute, thinking it would be the perfect bluff. But Peter… he was the spy."

Amelia's eyes went as wide as saucers. "Peter Pettigrew? But… he was presumed dead. Killed in the explosion that took out those Muggles."

Sirius's jaw tightened. "Nope. He faked his death. He cut off his own finger and turned into his Animagus form—a rat. He's been hiding ever since, living in plain sight. I tried to catch him, but he got away. And then… well, you know what happened."

Amelia's brain was doing somersaults. "We need to find him, Sirius. If we can prove he's alive, it'll clear your name."

Sirius nodded, hope flickering in his eyes like a candle in the wind. "Yes, but we'll need to be smart about it. Peter's been hiding for years, and he's slippery. But I know we can do it."

Amelia's resolve was as unyielding as a dragon's scales. "We'll get the truth out. I'll get my department to start auditing the trial transcripts, and I'll make sure the search for Peter Pettigrew is a top priority. We'll bring him to justice."

As they stood there, united in their newfound mission, Amelia took a deep breath, bracing for the next big revelation.

"There's one more thing you should know about Harry," she said, her voice tinged with a mix of seriousness and sadness. "His life with the Dursleys was… well, it was pretty awful."

Sirius's face darkened instantly. "What do you mean?"

Amelia's eyes shimmered. "The Dursleys treated him horribly. They neglected him, made him sleep in a cupboard, and barely fed him. They treated him like a servant. It breaks my heart."

Sirius clenched his fists, his anger as palpable as a dragon's roar. "Those Muggles… I should have been there. I should have protected him."

Amelia put a hand on his arm, offering comfort like a warm blanket. "You couldn't have known, Sirius. None of us did. But Harry's with us now, and we're going to make sure he's never treated like that again."

Sirius nodded, his eyes determined. "Thank you, Amelia. For taking care of him. I owe you more than I can ever repay."

Amelia's expression grew serious once more. "There's one more thing. Harry has a… unique companion."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "A companion?"

Amelia took a deep breath. "His name is Drakor. He's a symbiotic dragon-like creature that bonded with Harry. Drakor's been with him since the night we found him, and he's become a protective presence."

Sirius looked both intrigued and a little bewildered. "A symbiotic dragon? I've never heard of anything like that."

"Neither had I," Amelia admitted. "But Drakor's been nothing but protective. He helped us understand just how bad things were with the Dursleys."

Sirius took this in, his expression thoughtful. "So, this Drakor… he's a friend to Harry?"

Amelia nodded. "Yes, and more. He's a guardian. He's given Harry strength and support. And now, with you here, Harry has even more support."

Sirius's face softened, relief washing over him. "I'm glad Harry has someone like that. He deserves all the help he can get."

Amelia smiled, her eyes bright with hope. "He does. And together, we'll make sure Harry has the future he deserves."

Sirius nodded, a renewed sense of hope in his eyes. "Yes, we will. For Harry, and for James and Lily."

As they stood there, united in their mission, Amelia knew that with Sirius by her side, they had a fighting chance to bring justice to Harry and rebuild the family he had lost.

—

The afternoon sun bathed the Bones estate garden in warm, golden light, perfect for a flying lesson—or, as Harry would later call it, "That Time I Almost Faceplanted a Rosebush". Susan Bones, full of enthusiasm, was already zooming around on her broomstick, shouting tips over her shoulder like she'd been born in the air. Harry, gripping his broom like it was about to fly out of his hands (which, let's be real, it probably would), followed her with a mix of excitement and slight terror.

"Just lean into the turns a bit more!" Susan yelled, pulling into a graceful arc that Harry was definitely not going to try right now. "And loosen your grip before you snap the broom in half!"

Harry nodded, trying to play it cool while the wind whipped through his hair and his broomstick wobbled like an unsteady shopping cart. Sure, he didn't need a broom to fly, thanks to Drakor, but there was something about doing it the wizard way that made it special. It was like playing Quidditch without cheating. Well, almost.

"Watch this!" Susan called, pulling off some kind of spin that Harry was pretty sure violated at least three laws of physics.

Harry grinned, though he couldn't help but feel Drakor stir inside his mind, like a snarky voice waiting to unleash a barrage of commentary.

"We could be flying way faster without that ridiculous stick, you know." Drakor's voice echoed in Harry's head, half-amused, half-irritated. "I mean, I get the whole 'learn new things' deal, but this? It's like running a marathon in flip-flops when you have jet engines strapped to your back."

Harry chuckled inwardly. "It's fun, Drakor. Let me enjoy it."

"Oh sure," Drakor quipped, "Next time, let's try it with one hand tied behind your back. See how that goes. Maybe add a blindfold for extra fun. Ooh, and don't forget the rosebush obstacle!"

Harry could feel Drakor's excitement bubbling up—half from the thrill of flying, half from the potential chaos of Harry's imminent crash-landing. And let's be honest, Drakor loved a good crash. But behind all the wisecracks and exaggerated commentary, Harry knew his symbiote dragon had his back—literally.

Harry managed to swerve a little more gracefully now, mimicking Susan's moves (in a clumsy sort of way) until his confidence grew. For a few minutes, he forgot everything else—his past, his future, the whole "Boy-who-lived" business—and just flew. There was something pure about the wind on his face, the ground far below him, and the feeling of weightlessness. He didn't need wings. He had freedom right here.

"You're getting the hang of it!" Drakor teased. "Next stop: Quidditch star. Or, you know, garden gnome if you make that turn wrong."

As Harry landed, a little too fast but still in one piece, Susan swooped down beside him with a grin. "Not bad, Potter," she said, patting him on the back. "Next time, try not to aim for the flowerbeds."

Just as Harry was catching his breath, Mipsy, the Bones family house-elf, popped up at the garden's edge, clutching an envelope like it held the secret to the universe.

"Master Harry!" Mipsy squeaked, waving the letter like a flag. "A new letter for you!"

Harry blinked, hopping off the broom and walking over. "Thanks, Mipsy," he said, taking the envelope and eyeing the elegant handwriting. Definitely not junk mail.

"Ooooh," Drakor sang in his mind. "Fancy paper, pretty handwriting. What is it, a love letter? Fan mail? Maybe an invitation to a secret wizard party. That's a thing, right? Please tell me that's a thing."

Harry rolled his eyes as Susan joined him. "Who's it from?" she asked, peeking over his shoulder.

"Not sure," Harry muttered, opening the envelope. The second the parchment was out, Drakor was back with another stream of wild guesses.

"I bet it's from a secret admirer. Or the Ministry finally admitting they have no idea what they're doing. Or—wait! A surprise broomstick race! We'll crush it. I'll handle the steering, you just try not to fall off."

Drakor, Harry thought with a grin, let me read the letter first, yeah?

"Fine, fine," Drakor huffed, though Harry could feel the playful energy simmering in the background. "But if it's not an invite to something cool, we're going flying again. And this time, I'm in charge."

Harry snorted, already bracing for whatever twist of fate—or Drakor-fueled chaos—was coming next.

---

Dear Harry,

I hope this letter finds you well. My name is Remus Lupin, and I was a close friend of your parents, James and Lily Potter. We were part of a group known as the Marauders during our time at Hogwarts, along with Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew.

I have been following the recent news about you and felt compelled to reach out. There are so many things I wish I could have told you over the years, so many stories about your parents that I would love to share with you.

Your mother, Lily, was one of the kindest, most courageous people I have ever known. She had a way of seeing the good in everyone, and her love for you knew no bounds. Your father, James, was a loyal friend and a brave wizard. He was always ready to stand up for what was right, even at great personal risk.

I understand that life with the Dursleys was difficult for you. I am deeply sorry that you had to endure such hardships. If there is anything I can do to help or if you have any questions about your parents or our time together, please do not hesitate to ask. You have more family than you realize, and many of us are here to support you.

I have my own challenges to face, and there are aspects of my life that are difficult to share, but please know that you are not alone. There are many of us who care about you deeply and are ready to stand by you.

I hope we can meet in person soon. Until then, stay strong and remember that you are not alone.

With warmest regards,

Remus J. Lupin

---

Harry finished reading the letter, his mind swirling with thoughts about his parents, Remus, and… well, everything. He glanced up to see Susan wiping away a tear. Her eyes were misty, but she smiled at him, soft and warm, like someone who totally gets it.

"That was beautiful," she said, her voice all quiet and sincere, the kind of tone that makes you want to say something deep and meaningful but your brain's just like, Nope. I got nothing.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, nodding a little awkwardly. "It's... really nice to know Remus cared about my parents. And that he cares about me, too."

"Obviously, he cares about you," Drakor chimed in, "Who wouldn't? I mean, you're practically dripping in heroic potential. Also, that letter? Ten out of ten, would read again. Now, where's our medal for emotional depth?"

Harry tried not to snort. Drakor wasn't wrong (about the care part, not the medal—though, let's be honest, Harry wouldn't mind some acknowledgment for all the feelings he'd been processing lately).

Susan smiled at him, this warm, reassuring thing that felt like a blanket on a cold day. "You've got us, too, Harry," she said. "We're here for you."

Harry felt a rush of gratitude, that warm, fuzzy feeling that makes you think, Wow, people actually like me. He grinned, trying to play it cool. "Thanks, Susan. Really. That means a lot."

"Aww, group hug incoming!" Drakor teased, though his voice had softened a bit. "But seriously, this is nice. Maybe we should, I don't know, not run away when people care about us?"

Harry was about to respond to Drakor when Susan gave him a playful nudge. "Ready to get back to flying? Or are you too emotionally overwhelmed for me to totally crush you in a broom race?"

Harry's grin turned into a laugh. "Emotionally overwhelmed? Nah, I'm fine. And I'm definitely winning this time."

"Spoiler alert," Drakor cut in. "You're not. But, hey, we can totally pretend, right?"

With laughter bubbling between them, Harry and Susan mounted their brooms again. The heaviness of the letter, of the past, of everything, started to lift just a little. The future didn't seem quite so daunting, not with friends like Susan and, well, Drakor, who was many things, but always on Harry's side.

As they kicked off from the ground, Susan zoomed ahead, and Harry shouted after her, "No fair, I wasn't ready!"

"Excuses, excuses," Drakor snickered, as they picked up speed. "But fine, let's go be 'fair.' If we lose, we'll just say the wind cheated. Or the broomstick. Definitely not us."

And with that, they soared through the garden, laughter mixing with the wind, and Harry felt—just for a moment—that everything was going to be okay.

—

When Amelia returned home, she found Harry and Susan laughing like they'd just won the lottery. Harry's face was flushed, his hair even messier than usual (which, considering it was Harry, was saying something), and Susan was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Harry, Susan," Amelia called as she walked over. "Harry, we need to head to Gringotts."

Harry, still on a flying high, nodded enthusiastically. As they headed toward the house, Amelia's smile faded into something a bit more serious. The kind of serious that made Harry's stomach do an unexpected flip. You know, the "uh-oh, here comes the bad news" flip.

"Harry," she started, her voice softer now, "there's something I need to tell you."

"Great. I love surprises," Harry thought sarcastically. He turned to her, curiosity piqued but also mildly suspicious. "What is it, Amelia?"

Amelia took a deep breath, which was never a good sign. "I met with Sirius Black today."

Wait, what? Harry's brain screeched to a halt. Sirius Black? The supposed mass-murderer-slash-crazy-person who was, you know, his godfather? That Sirius Black?

"Sirius Black? The one who's supposed to be my godfather but was, uh, imprisoned for murder?" Harry asked, blinking as he tried to wrap his mind around it.

Cue dramatic music, Drakor chimed in, sounding way too excited. This is where the plot twist happens. Dun-dun-dun!

"Yep, that one," Amelia confirmed, looking like she was about to drop another bomb. "For a long time, I, like most people, believed he was guilty. But…" She glanced at Harry, her expression softening. "There's new evidence. Sirius has always claimed he was innocent, and it looks like—well, there's a good chance he was telling the truth."

Harry stared at her, his brain doing the mental equivalent of a cartwheel. "Wait. So, Sirius didn't betray my parents? He's not… a criminal?"

Amelia nodded, her eyes steady on his. "That's right. Sirius explained what really happened that night. It wasn't him who betrayed your parents, Harry. It was Peter Pettigrew."

Harry's mind did another flip, but this one was more like a backflip with a half twist. "Pettigrew?" he repeated, feeling the shock settle in. "The guy everyone thought Sirius killed?"

"Yep. Turns out, Pettigrew faked his own death and framed Sirius," Amelia said. "He's been hiding all these years."

"Honestly, human villains are so dramatic," Drakor said, exasperated. "Faking deaths, framing people, why can't they just stick to simpler plans like, I don't know, world domination or stealing candy from children?"

Harry didn't have time to respond to Drakor's snark because, well, his emotions were currently doing the cha-cha. Relief, anger, confusion—it was all there, in a glorious mess. "So, what happens now?" he managed to ask.

Amelia looked determined, like she was about to storm the Ministry herself if it came to that. "We're working on getting Sirius a fair trial. But there's more. I told him about the Dursleys. And Drakor."

Okay, that caught Harry's attention. He straightened up. "What did he say?" Because, let's be honest, having a dragon symbiote wasn't exactly something you just dropped into casual conversation.

Amelia's expression softened again, but there was a flicker of anger in her eyes. "He was furious, Harry. About how you were treated. He wants to be there for you, to make up for lost time."

Harry felt a strange mixture of embarrassment and relief. Someone else—someone who had been there when his parents were alive—wanted to be there for him. It was… a lot. But in a good way. Kind of.

"Furious? I like this guy already," Drakor chimed in, clearly enjoying the drama. "Bet he'll bring snacks next time too. Real godfather energy there."

"Thanks for telling me, Amelia," Harry said quietly. "And thanks for everything you're doing."

Amelia smiled, a warm, genuine one that made Harry feel like, yeah, things were going to be okay. "Of course, Harry. Now, let's get ready. We've got a lot to take care of."

As they prepared to head to Gringotts, Harry felt something settle inside him. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was the knowledge that, between Amelia, Susan, Drakor (and now maybe Sirius), he wasn't as alone as he'd thought.

"Hey, don't forget me!" Drakor piped up, indignant. "We're in this together. Symbiote Dragon and Wizard Boy, unstoppable duo. Seriously, we should get capes."

Harry smiled to himself. "Yeah," he muttered, "we've got this."

Cue dramatic exit music.

—

As the Ministry car came to a halt in front of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry practically vibrated with excitement. He hopped out, followed closely by Amelia Bones and her niece, Susan. The pub didn't look like much from the outside—just another dingy building in a long row of London shops. But Harry knew better.

"Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry," Amelia said, her smile warm.

Harry gave her a quick nod, eyes glued to the unassuming pub. As soon as they stepped inside, the atmosphere hit him like a ton of bricks—except way cozier and with the added bonus of roast meat. The place was filled with the hum of chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the rich smell of butterbeer. Harry's stomach rumbled.

Tom, the toothless and bald landlord (who could've easily passed for a goblin in another life), glanced up from behind the bar. His gaze lingered on Harry for a second too long. "Afternoon, Madam Bones," Tom greeted, then zeroed in on Harry. "And who's this?"

"This," Amelia said with a touch of pride, "is Harry Potter."

Cue the wide-eyed stare. If Harry had a knut for every time someone stared at his forehead, he'd probably have his own Gringotts vault by now. Actually, scratch that. He had one now. It was… a lot.

"Welcome, Mr. Potter," Tom said with a half bow.

"Yeah, that's not awkward," Harry thought, trying not to squirm under the attention. Fortunately, Amelia was all business, guiding him straight through the pub and out the back door into a tiny, walled courtyard.

She pulled out her wand, tapped a sequence of bricks on the wall, and—surprise!—the bricks shifted and rearranged themselves like something out of a video game cheat code. With a final rumble, Diagon Alley appeared before Harry in all its magical, chaotic glory.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Susan said with a grin, clearly enjoying Harry's slack-jawed expression.

Now, look. Harry had seen magic before—he wasn't exactly new to it—but this was different. Diagon Alley was a whole new level of wow. Witches and wizards bustled around, robes of every color swishing as they popped in and out of shops. Colorful signs hung over storefronts advertising cauldrons, broomsticks, and ingredients for potions he couldn't even pronounce. He might've gawked for a bit too long at the shop selling owls, cats, and—was that a snake?

"First stop, Gringotts," Amelia said, snapping him out of his daze and steering him toward the giant white marble building at the end of the street.

As they walked, Harry's head was like one of those bobblehead toys—turning this way and that, trying to absorb it all. Kids his age had their noses pressed against the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, drooling over some broomstick that Harry knew he needed (Drakor, his inner symbiote dragon, agreed, by the way). A pair of witches argued over prices at the apothecary, and somewhere nearby, the mouthwatering smell of fresh-baked bread made Harry's stomach grumble.

By the time they reached the steps of Gringotts, Harry was already overwhelmed by the magic of it all. Literally and figuratively.

Drakor's voice, silky and playful as always, slid into his mind. "Oh, look! Goblins in suits. You know what they remind me of? Little bankers. Oh, wait. They are bankers. Do you think they do treasure hunts? I'm very good at those. We should ask."

Harry bit back a smile, because explaining that your brain was being invaded by a dragon with the personality of a caffeinated puppy wasn't exactly something he wanted to get into right now.

The goblins at the entrance looked like they meant business—sharp teeth, sharper suits. Inside the bank, it was even more impressive. Harry barely had time to gawk at the towering ceilings and golden chandeliers before they were ushered over to a free goblin teller.

"Madam Bones, here to see the Potter Family Account Manager," Amelia said.

The goblin didn't even blink, just tapped something in his ledger before leading them down a maze of corridors. By the time they stopped in front of a heavy door, Harry had completely lost track of where they were. Goblin magic or just poor memory? You decide.

Inside the office sat a goblin with a serious "I'm-the-boss" vibe. He introduced himself as Griphook and immediately got down to business, opening up some seriously ancient-looking scrolls.

"These are the wills of James and Lily Potter," Griphook announced as he unrolled the parchment with the kind of care you'd give to, like, a winning lottery ticket. "They were written shortly before their unfortunate deaths."

Gee, thanks for the reminder, Harry thought, but his heart pounded in his chest as Griphook started reading.

"To our son, Harry James Potter, we leave all our worldly possessions, including the Potter family vault and estate..."

As Griphook's voice droned on, Harry's chest tightened. He tried to focus, but the idea that his parents had left all of this for him? That they'd thought ahead to make sure he was cared for—it was almost too much.

Meanwhile, Drakor was having the time of his life.

"Treasure! Gold! Heirlooms! I wonder if there's a crown. We should wear a crown. Kings always have crowns. I'll be King of Ice Cream. You can be King of Boring Financial Stuff."

Harry almost choked on a laugh. Ice cream? Really? We'll talk later, he mentally told Drakor.

Griphook continued, his voice a little less cold than Harry expected. "There are also personal letters addressed to you, Mr. Potter."

Harry took the letters with hands that were probably shaking a little too much. He didn't care. These were from his parents—actual words from them. He didn't know when he'd read them, but the fact that they were there was enough for now.

The kicker, though, came when Griphook got to the part about Sirius. "To Sirius Black, we name you as Harry's godfather and guardian…"

Harry blinked. What now?

"…and should you be unable to fulfill this duty, we appoint Amelia Bones as the secondary guardian."

Amelia gave him a small nod, as if to say, "Yep, I got your back." It was reassuring in a way that Harry wasn't sure he deserved.

"And finally," Griphook said, his voice taking on a bit of an edge, "James and Lily Potter named Peter Pettigrew as their Secret Keeper for the Fidelius Charm that protected their location."

Harry's breath caught in his throat. Sirius had been telling the truth all along. Pettigrew had been the one to betray them. Not Sirius.

Drakor let out a low growl, a sound Harry wasn't used to hearing from the usually playful dragon. "We'll find him. And when we do… Can we eat him? Just a nibble?"

"Pretty sure that's a no," Harry thought back. "But… tempting."

After a few more details about properties (Harry owned a house in Godric's Hollow, what?), Griphook wrapped up the reading, handing the documents over with a respectful nod.

As they stepped outside, Amelia turned to Harry. "How about some ice cream to celebrate?"

Before Harry could even reply, Drakor was practically vibrating in his mind. "YES! Chocolate! Lots of chocolate! Maybe enough chocolate to drown in."

Harry couldn't help but laugh this time. "Sounds great," he said, trying not to grin too much at Drakor's enthusiasm.

Susan chuckled as well. "I'll take the biggest sundae we can get."

With that, they made their way to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Harry ordered a giant chocolate sundae, much to Drakor's glee, and for a while, everything was perfect. No dark lords, no traitorous rats—just friends, ice cream, and the feeling that maybe, just maybe, things were finally looking up.

Drakor let out a purr of contentment in Harry's mind. "This… this is the life."

And for once, Harry had to agree.

---

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