A/N: So, I lied and said I'd be posting this in winter, but it turns out I'm just not the type of person who plans out a story before writing it. I like to improvise. Oh, and also, I was way too excited about getting this sequel going to stall that long. But to get to the point... I'M BACK! YAYYYY!

And here is the sequel! I'm not really sure if there will be a sequel to this sequel or if this one will be the end of it, so let's see how it goes...

It's kind of recommended that you read the first story, We Stand Together, lest you get extremely confused… but whatever. You do you.

As for updates: during the summer, I should be getting up at least two chapters a week. After that I will try to update every weekend. As always, though, I can't make promises because life will get in the way.

The first part of this chapter contains the preview that I put in as the last chapter of We Stand Together just to refresh your memory. The Heroes of Olympus series doesn't exist in this fic. Enjoy and, as always, reviews are to this story what hydrogen is to the Sun!

POVs: Draco, Harry

Disclaimer: Oh, don't mind me over here. I'm just sitting and wondering what kind of author writes fanfiction for their own books.

Chapter 1

Draco!" I winced as my father yelled my name up the stairs. Studying for N.E.W.T.-level courses was hard enough as it was without him screaming for me to come down the stairs.

The first week of the summer holiday was not going well. After I had talked to Potter about Rachel and the Dark side of my family, I had already solidified the decision that I would never become a Death Eater. Not in a million years. I suspected my father had an inkling of it, especially after the events at the Ministry last May. I'd willingly fought with the other Death Eaters, making sure to hide my face in my cloak, but father had known it was me.

Which was why I'd had to perform a minor Memory Charm on him to prevent him from turning me over immediately. You-Know-Who, I hoped, had not recognized me upon the quetzalcoatl's back when we fled the Ministry.

I knew that should my father ever find out my decision, he would have to disown me to please his master. Father loved me, and I loved him, but to escape death and torture from the Dark Lord, he would do anything. I'd been raised with the notion that muggleborns were bad blood, literally. But I'd never been raised to believe they were so bad that they all had to be exterminated.

My father, I had been able to tell since I was really young, was utterly relieved by the Dark Lord's fall. Now, though, since he had returned, my father had been jumpy, constantly eyeing everyone suspiciously, scaring when a mouse stirred, and yelling at me all the time.

"DRACO!" he yelled once more, but this time I could hear the terror in his voice. Wondering why he sounded so worried, I groaned, put my head against the dark wood desk in my green room, and stood up to go downstairs.

The first thing I noticed was that it was cold. And very dim.

It was light and sunny and warm outside, and contrary to popular belief, our house was well-heated and full of light too. But right now, it was dark. I descended the freezing marble steps, very suddenly aware of how bare my feet were, looking out the big window next to the stairs as I did so. It was thundering and raining heavily outside.

In the parlor stood our old house elf, Tracy, shivering in terror. My father stood next to her, trying to look stoic but obviously hiding his own terror. It didn't take long to figure out why.

At the head of the polished black mahogany dining table was a man, cloaked in black, running long fingers tipped with filthy, sharp fingernails over a wand. His face was hidden by the cloak until he pulled it back, revealing a chalk-white face, red eyes with slitted pupils, and snake-like nostrils.

"Hello, Draco," he said in a voice as cold as the room itself, twirling his wand. My feet were numb from the marble underneath them.

Father turned to look at me. "Draco, have a seat. We have a few things to discuss."

I froze. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, my mind chanted by itself. They were going to ask me to join the Death Eaters.

But years of being raised as a Malfoy were well-spent on me. Acting perfectly, I reached for the closest chair, pulled it out, and sat down.

"Draco, as you are well-aware—"

"No need for that, Lucius," the man at the end of the table snapped. "There is no need to go around in circles. If you won't get to the point, then I will."

I felt a tugging on the edge of my mind, and instantly snapped down my Occlumency barriers to prevent the Dark Lord from entering my mind. It was with good reason that Snape had started to teach me secretly when I was only ten.

He sneered at me, realizing immediately what I'd done. Of course, the Dark Lord was an incredible Legilimens, and he recognized it when someone was trying to hide something.

Fortunately for me, I was well-educated in the art of Occlumency. I used my mind to put up the illusion that I had lowered my barriers once again and pushed thoughts of joining the Dark Side, getting the Dark Mark, and a little bit of fear into the front of my mind for the wizard to read.

Apparently, he was fooled. He smiled cruelly. "I don't think there's anything to worry, about, Lucius, as your son seems… quite inspired already." My father breathed an obvious sign of relief. "We can arrange the date to give him the Mark to be soon, if you quite consent?"

It wasn't really a question so much as a threat.

"I was wondering if…" Voldemort turned his red eyes on me, but I kept up the barriers and false smile, "we could do it right now?"

My fake smile fell. NO.

And suddenly I knew that Voldemort had never been fooled by my Occlumency. Snapping up my barriers in the beginning had been a very severe mistake. He'd seen me at the Ministry and known it was me, fighting against his own Death Eaters.

My father was looking back and forth, terrified. "Draco…?"

I looked back at him and hissed lowly but didn't speak.

Voldemort laughed, high and cold and unforgiving. "But you don't really have a chance, now, do you, young Malfoy? Such a precious prize you are. You've got excellent skills in potions and transfiguration, your father tells me... and I can see for myself what an exceptionally skilled Occlumens you are. Snape, was it?"

I snarled back at him, but still didn't move.

He sighed dramatically. "I am afraid, my young Draco, that if you do not wish to comply with the Dark Lord's wishes, you must be punished." I drew my wand inconspicuously, hiding it in the hem of my robes. But of course he knew I'd pulled it out.

The red eyes flamed with anger and before I knew it, pain enveloped me whole. There was a far off screaming that I realized after a few minutes was my own. I knew what pain was. It was evil, and it was torturous, and I'd experienced it many, many times before, but none in this way. This wasn't just pain; it was agony.

Suddenly, the white-hot fire encasing my body vanished without a trace. I looked up to see the Dark wizard standing a few feet away. His snake, the snake that basically killed Rachel, was slithering towards me very slowly, a dark shadow with glowing red eyes like its master's.

I didn't think I'd ever been more terrified.

I stumbled away from the snake and him and stood up shakily. "Impressive," he said, cocking his head just the slightest bit as to seem curious. "But we are far from being done, Draco."

This time, he did not cast a Cruciatus Curse at me. Instead, he walked over, put a freezing charm on my body, and flicked his wand several times. I did not realize what had happened until my feet began to burn from pain. The bone of my heel was sticking out through them. The man in front of me had just used magic to rip the soles of my feet off of my body.

He sliced his wand through the air once more. The skin over my chest was slashed open and began to bleed heavily.

Another wand movement, still no words. Both of my arms broke with a hideous crack.

I couldn't look away, but I began praying. To someone, to anyone. I was sorry for everything I'd ever done. For any pain I'd ever inflicted upon another person. For any bullying I'd oppressed others with.

My left leg broke. Voldemort sent an Imperius Curse my way and I stood up and walked over to him on that broken leg. I felt like I was going to die. I hoped I would.

He grabbed my arm and pulled it towards his wand, and I already knew what was going to happen.

I gathered what little resolve I had and broke the curses on me. "NEVER!" I screamed before the wand could touch my forearm.

Voldemort looked at me for a split second, bewildered.

I took advantage of the small time I had and ran. Ran out of that filthy house, where I never wanted to be again, and accio'd my broom… the rain outside poured onto my face, drenching me in mere moments as lightning flashed. My arms hurt like hell, my leg was not supposed to be stood on, but I kept running.

It was too late. Voldemort was already there, pointing a deadly wand at me. If I was going to disappear, it couldn't be with my broom.

Frantically, I twisted on the spot like I'd seen my mother and father do on multiple occasions, focusing as hard as I could to think of a place other than here, anywhere, anywhere…

When a force squeezed my throat, I thought that Voldemort had gotten a hand around me. But soon I realized I was flying through compressing darkness, and I thought hard on the first place that popped into my head…

I landed scrambling, stumbling and fell on my face. It was only then I realized the blood pouring out of my body and the pain that came with it, and I screamed as hard as I could into the rain still coming down.

A yell was the last thing I heard. Concerned amber eyes were the last thing I saw.

And then I fell into darkness.

FIVE HOURS EARLIER

"Sirius!" I exclaimed delightedly, crushing my godfather in a hug as soon as he walked through the door. It wasn't exactly as if I hadn't seen him in a long time — as a matter of fact, I'd seen him yesterday — but today was his trial, and I was both so excited and anguished that I nearly cut off his circulation in my hug.

So far, the first week of the summer holiday at the Burrow had been all right. Despite the fact that Mrs. Weasley had enforced her rule of 'at least one hour of homework every day', the rest of the daylight hours were spent playing quidditch outside in teams of three versus two (Fred and me on one side, George, Ginny, and Ron on the other) or simply enjoying the sunlight.

Of course, for the past week I'd been looking through old books concerning the Wizengamot and how trials worked for wizards and witches. It wasn't all that difficult, and I knew a lot of it already from having my own hearing last summer, but I still read through everything Mrs. Weasley had to offer just in case so that I could see how the trial worked when I was there. Then there had been the chapters that delved deeper into Wizengamot politics with honored family houses. I'd skimmed over the paragraphs in that section, but after finding nothing useful, had shut the book. Hermione would probably be interested in it.

Now, Sirius had just arrived through the Floo. Mrs. Weasley, gave him a smile as he stepped out of the emerald flames.

"Hey, Harry! Slow down, you're going to knock me down!" I instantly caught myself and measured how much force I was putting into the hug. Sirius, I had noted recently, had seemingly never recovered from his time in Azkaban. I winced at the thought. My godfather was too skinny for a man his age. I drew back to inspect him.

"How are you, Sirius?"

"Quite jittery with nerves, as a matter of fact."

"Don't be. Everything you'll say is the truth." I knew that at most trials, the accused were made to swallow some Veritaserum to make sure that everything they said was the absolute truth.

Sirius smiled at me, a genuine and bright smile. "I know. I'm just… nervous. I'm sure you understand the feeling. You had your own hearing last July."

I did know the feeling, and I also knew that nothing could really make it go away. So instead, I smiled, wrapped my arm around Sirius again, and led him into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was already bustling, trying to clean the messy kitchen. Every time I saw how burdened she was with my extra presence in the house, I asked if I could do anything for her. She wouldn't let me lift a finger, though. Her excuse was that I "had better things to do than clean a rickety old house".

"Molly?" Sirius asked, drawing her attention. "Harry and I are going to get going. We were supposed to be there five minutes ago."

Mrs. Weasley looked at him with an odd expression. "I didn't know they let the accused bring guests with them to the Wizengamot."

"Usually they don't," said Sirius with an eternal patience, "but I've spoken with Dumbledore, who has been reinstated as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. I didn't want anyone else bringing Harry. It's going to be a fairly small trial, though there will be some guests watching."

I knew about this too from reading the Ministry politics book. Trials, unless very important, were held in a judge's office. Larger ones had some guests invited and faced most of the Wizengamot.

"Have you got any witnesses, Sirius?"

"Remus will be there, as will Minnie, though she wasn't actually a witness. And — well, you're not supposed to know this at all, so don't tell anyone," he said, voice dropping to a whisper, "but they've somehow managed to get their hands on Peter."

Mrs. Weasley looked slightly horrified. "Peter Pettigrew?"

Sirius looked like he'd just swallowed a particularly nasty shoe. "Indeed. The filthy rat." There was a moment of silence as we all remembered Pettigrew, before Sirius suddenly clapped his hands and announced, "We'll be leaving now."

Ron, Ginny, and the twins all wished us good luck when we walked back into the Floo. None of them could come, not having been invited as guests by the Wizengamot or by Sirius. Mrs. Weasley, smiling brightly, promised that everything would go well.

"Come on, Harry." So I stepped into the fire next to Sirius. He whispered a location that I couldn't quite hear before dropping the Floo Powder, and then we were swished away by emerald flames.

I wasn't exactly sure where we ended up. It was a small living room, claustrophobic with its tight walls and low ceiling, not to mention the clutter. It wasn't messy or unorganized; the room just had so much stuff in it that it seemed that way.

"Finally got here, then, Sirius?" a gruff voice sounded from our left and we both looked over, Sirius calmly and I shocked, to see a large man standing there, holding a walking staff and standing on a prosthetic leg, his left eye whizzing magically in its socket.

"Hello, Mad-Eye," said Sirius.

"And you've brought Harry, I see. Well, let's get going. We don't want to be late."

As Moody wrestled with the door, I whispered to Sirius, "What are we doing here? I thought we were going straight to the Ministry?"

Sirius looked at me with gray eyes. "Although Dumbledore has granted me some extra freedoms that most of the accused don't have, I can't just walk into my own trial by myself. I need to be escorted there by an Auror, and Moody was assigned to take me there."

I looked around to where Moody was, holding the door open, in bewilderment. The Ministry books certainly hadn't mentioned this.

Mad-Eye stopped us right before we hit the door. "Your wand, Sirius?"

Unexpectedly, Sirius calmly drew his wand from his pocket and handed it over to Moody, who stuffed it in his own coat. "Let's go." He magically bound Sirius' wrists, making sure that they were not harmed in doing so, and looked apologetically at Sirius. My godfather had retained his calm until the bindings had been put on. To anyone else, Sirius' expression wouldn't have appeared to change. I, however, was keenly aware of the panicked look that appeared in his eyes as soon as the invisible manacles appeared. It didn't come as too much of a surprise; twelve years in Azkaban, full of torture and manacles, would do that to a person. Nevertheless, I grabbed his arm to comfort him. He looked at me gratefully, but there was also a hint of pleading in his eyes.

"Come on," was all I said. "The sooner we go, the sooner we can get it over with."

The Wizengamot court was the same as it had been the last time I'd been in here, facing my own trial last summer. The only difference was that instead of Fudge at the top of the chief's seat, Dumbledore was sitting there, and that there were a couple people sitting in the rows of chairs behind and next to me. Sirius' guests, I assumed.

There was Lupin, who sat next to me, and Tonks next to him; Professor McGonagall sat on the other side of the aisle separating seats. Then, behind us was Moody, and in the very back I could see a head full of blond curls, bent over a piece of paper. Any other time, I would have been angry to see that Rita Skeeter was the one documenting this trial. However, my letters to and from Hermione had suggested that Rita would be telling the truth about the trial.

The trial itself was surprisingly short, only half an hour or so. I watched as they sat Sirius on the chair in front of the Wizengamot, and as a short witch I realized to be Amelia Bones poured a waterlike liquid that was anything but water down Sirius' throat.

"This is the trial of Sirius Black, accused of giving information to the Dark Lord as to the whereabouts of the Potter family and the murder of thirteen muggles as well as Peter Pettigrew fourteen years ago on the morning of November the first, 1981," Bones began. "Recently the court found out that Black was never issued a trial and faced twelve years in Azkaban without a conviction until he broke out. At the time, we gave all people trials, no matter how much evidence had been presented that they were in allegiance with the Dark Lord. It is a matter of injustice and humiliation that we failed to present Sirius Black with the same opportunity to prove himself innocent. Today, however, we will find out the truth."

There was a slight pause, and all that could be heard was the scratching of quill on parchment in the back row.

"Please bring in Peter Pettigrew!" Bones announced loudly. No one was surprised that he'd been caught. Another Auror, one I didn't know, appeared at the doorway and walked in, dragging a whimpering, pitiful figure behind him. It was Pettigrew, who was chewing on his overlong nails, whimpering to the Auror to have some mercy, but the man wasn't listening.

"Two weeks ago, on June thirteenth, Peter Pettigrew was found in a muggle house that had been ransacked, wandless and on the floor. There was no evidence of how he ended up there, but after a small dose of Veritaserum we indeed found out that this is the real Pettigrew." She walked over to him, magically binding him to a chair with the same spell Moody had used, and poured the potion into his throat.

"Sirius Black. Did you give information to You-Know-Who about where James and Lily Potter were hiding?"

Sirius' voice, like his eyes, was glazed over. "No."

"But were you not the Secret-Keeper for the Potters?"

"I was before."

"So did you give the secret to someone who might've given it away to the Dark Lord?"

"No."

Amelia Bones's eyes narrowed. "How did the Dark Lord find the Potters on the night of October 31st, 1981 if not by telling them the secret of where the house was?"

"I was originally intended to be the Secret-Keeper. However, James and Lily both thought that it was too obvious and that I would be attacked by Death Eaters to find where the Potters were."

"Why would it be too obvious?"

Sirius was still monotone. "I was James's best friend all throughout Hogwarts. I would never, ever betray him or my other friends, Peter Pettigrew or Remus Lupin. Just the thought makes me sick."

"So what happened?"

"Both James and Lily decided that they should have someone no one would suspect as the Secret-Keeper, so they could be safe. So they made Peter Pettigrew the Secret-Keeper instead. No one knew then that he was in allegiance with the Dark Lord. But the night James and Lily were murdered, I knew that he'd told Voldemort. I went after him for revenge. But before I could do anything, Peter blew up the street, killing those muggles, and cut off his finger to frame me as the murderer."

Amelia Bones, along with the rest of the Wizengamot, looked startled.

"How did Pettigrew escape, then?"

Sirius' answer was short and confusing. "Through the sewers."

"How would he have done so, Mr. Black?"

"Peter Pettigrew was an Animagus. A rat, to be exact. So he transformed himself after cutting off his finger and fled before the explosion cleared."

Bones now turned to Pettigrew, who sat in his chair, struggling against the bindings and looking around with terrified eyes.

"Do you confess that you betrayed the Potters by giving away the secret location of their hiding to the Dark Lord, and then attempted to frame Sirius Black by blowing up a street of muggles and faking your own death?"

Pettigrew's watery eyes focused on her. "Yes."

"Are you an unregistered Animagus?"

"Yes."

"What is your Animagus form?"

"A rat."

"Did you escape into the sewers as a rat after the explosion on the street?"

"Yes."

Everyone in the room who hadn't known the entire story until then looked shocked. It was then that Dumbledore rose and spoke. "It is truly a tragedy that Mr. Sirius Black, heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, was thrown into Azkaban and forced to spend twelve undeserved years there. However, as we have now truly caught the criminal, there is not a need for any other witnesses. I wish to hold a vote among the council. Those who believe that Mr. Black is innocent and should be relieved of all charges, and that Mr. Pettigrew is the true accused here and should be sent to Azkaban for consorting with the Dark Lord and being an unregistered Animagus, please raise your hands."

It was unanimous. Every single person on the Wizengamot raised their hands. Sirius was free.

"You can untie Mr. Black and give both him and Mr. Pettigrew the antidote, Ms. Bones," said Dumbledore as he sat down again.

"Wait. If you aren't opposed to it, I have a last question for Mr. Black."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"Mr. Black, how exactly did you escape Azkaban?"

From my seat, I could see that Sirius' eyes had begun to clear, the Veritaserum no longer forcing him to tell the truth. His eyebrows furrowed. I held my breath, hoping that he wouldn't tell how he got out of Azkaban. It would only send him straight back again.

But fortunately, all Sirius said was "I don't remember. I was so malnourished and tormented from my years in Azkaban that it was all a blur. I simply remember that one moment, there was a Dementor in front of me, and the next, I was on solid land."

Bones looked a bit wary, but she untied Sirius and gave the antidote.

"To conclude this trial, I clear Sirius Black of all previous convictions and declare he is free from his sentence in Azkaban. I also convict Peter Pettigrew of the previously mentioned crimes. He will serve two lives' sentences in Azkaban."

And just like that, the trial was over.

I rushed over to Sirius as soon as I could. "You're free!"

He hugged me tightly. "I am, pup. And I intend to live the rest of my life, no matter how short, that way. Which means that you and I are going to have to take a small trip back here soon."

A/N: I am aware that that's not how courts work, but for the sake of this fic I changed it. :D