The afternoon light streamed through the tall windows of the White Manor's study, scattering warm patches across the polished mahogany floor. Outside, the gardens swayed gently under a lazy summer breeze, the scent of blooming lavender drifting faintly in through the open panes.
Eira sat at the wide, carved desk near the window, her quill resting on the open ledger before her. Steam curled from the delicate porcelain teacup at her side, carrying the distinct sweetness of ripe mango. The blend was her own choosing—a black tea steeped with dried mango slices, releasing not just flavor but a faint golden hue that gleamed in the light. She took a sip, savoring the mellow fruitiness mingling with the earthiness of the tea leaves, and let out a quiet breath of satisfaction.
In front of her lay several parchment sheets bound together with silk ribbon—the latest reports on the White family's affairs. She skimmed the lines with a practiced eye: estate finances, recent acquisitions, correspondence from various contacts in both the magical and Muggle worlds. Her quill occasionally scratched across the margin, making notes for follow-up.
The rhythmic quiet of the afternoon was broken by a soft knock at the door.
"Enter," Eira called, without looking up.
The door opened, and Emma stepped inside, her usual impeccable composure intact. She carried a slim, leather-bound folder in her hands, its clasp marked with the White family's crest.
"My lady," Emma said, crossing the room with measured steps, "this is the dossier you requested regarding Sirius Black." She placed the folder on the desk in front of Eira. "It contains all the information available from both official Ministry records and less… public sources."
Eira closed the family reports and drew the folder toward her. "Thank you, Emma."
She unfastened the clasp and spread the contents across the desk. A thick sheaf of parchment spilled forth—formal Ministry transcripts, copies of Prophet articles, and handwritten notes that clearly came from Emma's own network.
The first pages were summaries: Sirius Black, born 3 November 1959 to Orion and Walburga Black, the oldest pure-blood family of significant influence. The notes detailed his estrangement from his family during his teenage years, his open rejection of their blood supremacist views, and his eventual sorting into Gryffindor House at Hogwarts—a point of contention that had all but severed his ties to the House of Black.
Beneath the summary, a section outlined his years at Hogwarts:
• First Year (1971): Sorted into Gryffindor. Befriended James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew within days. Quickly gained a reputation for recklessness, charm, and a sharp tongue.
• Second Year: The group—later calling themselves the Marauders—became inseparable. Known for elaborate pranks, occasional rule-breaking, and their unusual talent for avoiding disciplinary action.
• Third Year: Growing suspicion among professors that the group had discovered secret passageways in and out of the castle.
• Fourth Year: Sirius and James excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts, consistently top of their class. Sirius showed a particular aptitude for dueling.
•Fifth Year: The group excelled in Transfiguration, impressing their professors enough to be seen as more than just troublemakers.
• Sixth and Seventh Year: Continued academic success in chosen subjects, but disciplinary records note multiple detentions for dangerous stunts. Left Hogwarts in 1978.
Eira's eyes moved to the next section, the ink slightly darker where the handwriting changed—Emma's work, she suspected. This portion detailed Black's activities after leaving school: his role in the First Wizarding War, his position as best man at James Potter's wedding, and his appointment as godfather to Harry Potter.
Then came the page that made Eira pause.
Incident, 31 October 1981 – 1 November 1981
• Evening of 31 October: James and Lily Potter murdered by Dark Lord in Godric's Hollow. Harry Potter survives; Dark Lord disappears.
• Morning of 1 November: Sirius Black confronts Peter Pettigrew in a crowded Muggle street. An explosion occurs, killing Pettigrew and twelve Muggles instantly. Witnesses claim to have seen Pettigrew cry out before the blast; remains of Pettigrew found to be a single finger.
• Black arrested at the scene by Magical Law Enforcement. Described as laughing hysterically.
Eira's brows drew together as she turned the page. This was where she expected to see the formal trial proceedings—charges, evidence, the verdict. Instead, the parchment was startlingly brief.
Legal Action:
• Arrested by Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
• Sent directly to Azkaban.
• No recorded trial or hearing.
Eira's fingers stilled on the parchment. "No trial?" she murmured.
Emma, who had remained silent at her side, inclined her head. "No, my lady. He was imprisoned without formal proceedings. Highly irregular, even under the Ministry's emergency powers at the time."
Eira flipped through the next few sheets, each confirming the same: no evidence presented, no witness examinations, no presiding judge listed.
"They just sent him straight to Azkaban," Eira said slowly, the disbelief edging into her tone.
"Yes," Emma confirmed. "It was justified publicly on the grounds of the ongoing war, and the perceived danger Black posed. But in truth, my sources say it was done hastily, without due process."
Eira sat back in her chair, tapping a finger against the desk. "And yet… other accused Death Eaters, even ones captured in the midst of battle, were granted trials. Some were acquitted, some convicted—but trials nonetheless."
Emma's lips pressed into a thin line. "It appears someone wanted Sirius Black removed immediately."
The conversation drifted back to the Hogwarts years as Eira examined a more personal section of the file—anecdotes gathered from classmates and teachers. It painted a picture of a boy both fiercely loyal to his friends and reckless to a fault. Black had a rebellious streak a mile wide, but also a capacity for bravery and self-sacrifice.
The Marauders' escapades were detailed at length: smuggling food into the hospital wing for Lupin after full moons, outsmarting Filch at every turn, once managing to enchant the suits of armor in the Entrance Hall to sing bawdy drinking songs during a visiting dignitary's speech.
Yet, there were also moments of darkness—occasional fights, tempers flaring, grudges that lingered.
The final page of Emma's compiled notes returned to the night of Pettigrew's supposed death. Eira studied the phrasing carefully.
"Witnesses claimed Pettigrew was cornered. Yet… the size of the explosion, the fact that only a finger remained—it's too convenient."
Emma nodded slightly. "Yes, my lady. It reads more like staged evidence than the aftermath of a duel."
Eira's gaze sharpened. "Find out who was responsible for his arrest that day. Names, ranks, any details. And I want the names of those who signed off on sending him to Azkaban without trial."
"Yes, my lady," Emma said, her tone already threaded with determination.
"And while you're at it," Eira continued, "look into Pettigrew's background as well. How he survived Hogwarts among such talented friends, and whether his disappearance that day was as final as the records suggest."
Emma inclined her head in acknowledgment. "Understood."
Eira closed the dossier, fastening the clasp once more. The mango tea beside her had gone lukewarm, but she lifted the cup anyway, taking one last sip as her thoughts churned.
Why had someone seen as the embodiment of loyalty and self-sacrifice become the most notorious criminal of the decade?