Mischief Managed

November 2, 1981

The time he had spent in the tiny cell, has felt like eternity. Useless eternity. After all, he was innocent! Someone had to be able to prove this, right? This was one of the most important cases in the history of the wizarding world, wasn't it?

The sunlight, sending its warm and comforting rays through the basement's narrow windows where he was being locked up, was the only thing telling him the time. And since it had already set and risen once it had to be November 2.

This meant James and Lily had left the world of the living more than thirty hours ago and their murderer ... well, he didn't know what happened to the Dark Lord but Pettigrew, the bloody traitor, was most likely dead. Most likely. He wasn't too sure about that. Peter had always been a master in escaping death while being on missions for the order. But now that Sirius thought about it that was probably because he wasn't actually fighting enemies but his allies, his friends.

He spent every single second hoping Remus would come around. He had to know about him being arrested. It would surely be in the Daily Prophet. Or maybe he arrest had been overshadowed by James and Lily's murder and the dissappearance of the Dark Lord. That could be. Maybe Remus had been too shocked to continue reading the Daily Prophet. Or maybe he was out there, desperately trying to find Sirius, unknowing he was actually held captive in the dungeons underneath the Ministry of Magic.

He had already been told the wizen gamot was to judge his case but he knew they weren't as unbiased as they sometimes wanted to look like, so he deeply hoped they would be on his side. Remus once told him about the muggles' judicial system. There Sirius would have the right to an attorney and he would be innocent until proven guilty. So if they didn't have enough evidence to proof his guilt they would tend to acquit him, instead of jailing him innocently.

But he highly doubted the wizen gamot would approach this way. Those humpy witches and wizards were everything but fair judges, they never even experienced a judicial education and only acted in their own interest. Even worse, one of his great-uncle's was a part of the wizen gamot and after how he "acted up" as Walburga always tended to call it when he was still living at Grimmauld Place, he surely wouldn't willingly declare him innocent.

But Sirius tried his best to remain optimistic. Dumbledore would surely help him. He had proven to be a loyal and foremost valuable member of the Order of the Phoenix more than once. Dumbledore himself had complimented him after a battle once, he pointed out Sirius's well-casted double charms – the ability to keep up a Protego while attacking his opponent at the same time.

The door opened and Sirius, still chewing on the hard rust of the bread they gave him, lifted his head. It couldn't possibly be time for his next meal, could it? Just as the times before he had taken his time to eat, but surely not an entire afternoon?

A wizard entered the room. He wore a uniform – loose-fitting trousers, a button-up and cloak, all in a dark blue colour. He kept his wand pointed at Sirius. "Mr Black?"

Unintentionally, Sirius stood up and long, silver-ish strings left the man's wand, tying his arms to his torso, so tight that no matter how hard he fought, he couldn't free himself. "What do you want?", he asked, more aggressive sounding than he originally intended to.

"I want to be safe from you", the wizard answered.

Sirius snorted. "I don't have a wand. How could I possibly do anything to harm you, even if I wanted to, if I don't have a wand?"

The wizard smiled at him derogatorily. "I don't know what the Dark Lord taught you. And everyone learns the basics of performing wandless spells at Hogwarts and I heard you were extraordinarily good at that, Mr Black?"

Sirius blinked, confused about whether he should be offended by the accusation of being a Death Eater or flattered by the compliment. "Sir, I don't know what you've heard about me but I am not a death eater. I despised my family for their political convictions."

"Enough with the excuses! I don't want to hear about this!"

Sirius muted immediately, this tone sounded all too familiar and he knew what this meant. But until he realised that he wasn't at 12 Grimmauld Place and that it wasn't Walburga Black shouting at him in anger, seconds passed in which the wizard in uniform continued talking.
"Mr Black, it's not looking good for you. Your charge is a lot to unpack."

No shit, Sherlock, Sirius thought grimly but didn't answer. He'd just be interrupted, no one would bother listening to him anyway.

"Don't you want to say anything?", the wizard said with a disgusting grin on his face.

"Oh, so now I am supposed to –", he began the sentence but changed his mind before finishing it and backtracked. "You know, I think I'd rather save my energy for the court room."

"Yes, see, I wanted to talk with you about this as well. You won't be given an attorney by the court. You have to find one yourself."

Sirius clenched his teeth. He should've known this. Of course, the Black family had an attorney (even though he had never made an actual appearance in court, no one would dare attacking the noble and most ancient House of Black. And since Sirius had been disinherited a few years ago, he highly doubted he would be granted access to this attourney. Maybe it'd be better to enter this trial without an attorney? He'd probably lose either way.

"Do you have an attorney, Mr Black?"

Sirius shook his head. "No. Not yet. Can I please make some phone calls to get myself one?"

"No."

He didn't expect a different answer. "Then it looks like I'll go into this trial without an attorney. When will it be?"

"Tomorrow."