Grim: Last Hope (HP/DC/Marvel)

Disclaimer: This is a story based on Harry Potter, Marvel, DC and Image comics characters and all recognizable characters, plots belong to Jk Rowling,Marvel, DC and Image comics. I claim no ownership to it.

Chapter 12: Aftermath

The Black Castle

They appeared in a whirlwind of magic in the welcoming hall of the castle. Harry and Arcturus landed gracefully, while Sirius was unceremoniously thrown to the ground, the effects of the potions already wearing off.

Harry made his way to a cushioned sofa and sank into it, exhaustion settling over him. Using so much magic in this body was difficult—the sheer power he had unlocked was still something his body struggled to adjust to.

"Well, that went well," Arcturus snarked as he settled into another chair.

Before anyone could respond, a wand was suddenly pressed against Arcturus Black's neck—Sirius stood before him, eyes blazing with fury.

"What the fuck do you want with me? And where is my godson? What have you done to him?"

Arcturus merely scoffed. "Oh, don't make me laugh, grandson. If you had shown this level of concern that night, perhaps you wouldn't have been tossed into Azkaban like discarded trash," he retorted.

Harry could see that Sirius was at his breaking point. He had had enough.

"Enough, both of you. I'm here," Harry said firmly, dispelling the magic that had given him an adult appearance.

Sirius froze as the illusion unraveled. He took in the familiar messy hair and those striking green eyes. The face wasn't James's—it was more regal, more refined—but the eyes… the eyes stole his breath. They weren't the eyes of an innocent boy. They were old, filled with the weight of battles fought and wars survived. Then Sirius remembered—the duel, the raw power Harry had wielded, holding his ground even against Dumbledore. His mouth went dry.

"How? What is this? How—?" Sirius spluttered, struggling to form words.

"Oh, don't bother asking, grandson," Arcturus drawled from the side. "He may try to dress it up in fancy words, but the truth is simple—he is a Peverell who delved into soul magic and sent his soul back. That is the only explanation for the sheer magical power he wields."

Harry wasn't surprised that a man as learned as Arcturus had deduced the truth so quickly.

"Harry… what happened? What could have possibly driven you to do something so dangerous?" Sirius asked, his voice raw with emotion.

"War and death, Sirius, It is not something I can explain now with you in this state. You must heal and then I will tell you my story," Harry replied. "I regained my memories and, after recovering, I sought out the only man who had ever truly cared for me." His voice was honey-smooth, calculated along with his trust me aura using telepathy that he learned from Charlus Xavier. "I wanted you free because I know you're innocent. And I need you, Sirius. I need you as my right hand—to help me build a world where I can live in peace. I need my godfather, the one who will never betray me. I need an adult who can get things done while I remain hidden, at least for now."

Sirius looked at him as though he had been handed a lifeline.

"Of course, pup. Of course, you'll have me. I fucked up for ten years, but I swear I'll make it right," Sirius vowed.

He moved toward Harry and pulled him into a hug. Harry, caught off guard, awkwardly patted his back. Before he could say anything, Sirius's body went limp—he had lost consciousness.

With a flick of his fingers, Harry used telekinesis to move Sirius onto the couch. A few diagnostic charms later, he ensured that Sirius was experiencing the most restful sleep of his life, while potions were directly absorbed into his system.

"That was quite the performance, Harry. And an impressive display of healing," Arcturus remarked mockingly.

"Oh, that was no act, Uncle," Harry replied smoothly. "I need him. I need him healthy and free to move in both the Muggle and magical worlds." He pulled a vial from inside his robes. "This potion will accelerate his recovery—both physically and mentally—if he receives proper nutrition and adequate rest." He glanced at Arcturus. "Also, I want you to make the first move against the Ministry before they have a chance to push their narrative."

Arcturus leaned back, looking thoughtful. "I'll send Sirius to our Caribbean retreat to recover," he decided. "Fudge will undoubtedly move against me once he's back, but I'll make sure tomorrow's Daily Prophet prints the truth. A few choice images from memory should do the trick."

"Will the Prophet actually publish it?" Harry asked, skeptical.

Arcturus smirked. "Oh, don't worry about that, dear nephew. The editor is a personal friend of mine." He paused before adding, "Anything else my lord would like to command me to do?" His tone dripped with sarcasm.

Harry frowned at the jab but pushed forward. "Yes, one more thing. I want the patent and rights to convert magical potions into pill form. House Parkinson owns them, and I want them transferred to House Potter."

Arcturus grimaced. "And do you intend to pay for it? Or is it my gold that you plan to spend?"

Harry shook his head. "Gold isn't the issue. The Parkinsons will never sell to House Potter unless I resort to illegal means. But the name 'Arcturus Black' isn't one that people deny easily. The Parkinsons have no real use for those rights—everyone hates taking pills, and the ICW has banned selling magical medicine to Muggles anyway."

"And what exactly do you intend to do with it? The ICW is not an entity you can fight without things turning… ugly," Arcturus said, studying him intently.

Harry smiled, slow and knowing. "Oh, I won't fight them. I'll sell to the Muggles, of course."

Arcturus raised an eyebrow.

"The ICW's greatest strength lies in the knowledge they have hoarded over the centuries, Albus's influence as Supreme Mugwump, and the unwavering support of MACUSA and its powerful magical lords. Isn't it ironic, Uncle?" Harry mused. "The bastards left behind by Britain's purebloods in America have risen to such power, and they mock Albion for its so-called 'lack of strength.'" His smile sharpened. "Thus, when the time comes, I'll start with India. A land where mystics, shamans, and even many Muggles still believe in magic."

Arcturus studied him for a long moment, knowing that Harry was right. Only two magical lords had been born in Britain in the twentieth century—Harry and Riddle—while MACUSA had produced nearly a dozen within its states. But Arcturus could see the unwavering determination in Harry's eyes; whatever his plan was, he would not be swayed. With a quiet sigh, Arcturus nodded in acceptance.

The Star

DOM

The Star read the paper carefully, wondering why the Director hadn't intervened when he knew for a fact that the man had been present at the Battle of Azkaban. His eyes flicked to the moving images of Baron Black, and a single question echoed in his mind—why now? He had believed that Lord Black would never be seen alive again in his lifetime.

Sirius Black Innocent? Ministry scandal and Lord Black Defeats Dumbledore.

It was a shocking revelation for the Minister, Lord Malfoy, DMLE Director Amelia Bones, and our esteemed Headmaster when they learned that Lord Arcturus Black, Baron of Britain, had returned from his self-exile to free his grandson and heir, Sirius Black. Lord Black had only recently uncovered the Ministry's grave injustice against his family—Sirius Black had been kidnapped all those years ago and had never received a trial.

No one present at the Death Eater trials remembered such proceedings, and upon reviewing the Daily Prophet's archives, there was no mention of a trial or a verdict—unlike the cases of other convicted Death Eaters. This reporter is heartbroken at the suffering of an innocent Heir of Noble and most Ancient House of Black and asks for forgiveness in the name of all good Wizards of Britain.

From the memory I was lucky enough to view, it is evident that Lord Malfoy had wanted a confrontation, likely hoping Sirius Black would be "accidentally" killed, allowing his own son to inherit the Black family fortune. Unfortunately for Malfoy, Baron Black arrived prepared, accompanied by a single bodyguard. The confrontation left Malfoy without a wand arm, the Minister and Lady Bones injured, and—most astonishingly—Dumbledore himself defeated. The Black Baron and his companion shattered Azkaban's wards and escaped unscathed.

"Someone dared to strip a citizen of Wizarding Britain of their fundamental rights and condemned him to a decade of torture. My brother-in-law, Charlus Potter, and I fought against the Dark Lord Grindelwald all those years ago because he did the very same thing. I was buried in grief after the deaths of my sister Dorea, my wife Melania, Charlus, and my nephew James Potter. But Sirius Black was Harry Potter's godfather—his rightful guardian. And yet, those in power saw fit to throw him into Azkaban without trial. For a decade, I hunted the reason why."

"And I finally found the reason last week, Sirius Black was innocent, and they knew it. To control my grandnephew, Harry Potter, they did the unthinkable."

When our reporter pressed further, asking how Sirius Black could be innocent, Lord Black merely smirked.

"Oh? You want to know? Let that be a surprise for now."

This reporter was deeply moved by the sheer conviction of Lord Black—a man who once fought for this country in its darkest hours and has now risen once more, proving his righteousness beyond doubt. His triumph over Albus Dumbledore and his daring rescue of his innocent grandson from Azkaban stand as a testament to his action's righteousness in Lady Magic's own eyes.

"Star, I see you've been reading the papers about the Blacks," the Director's voice echoed through the room.

Star immediately stood. "Director, yes, it was intriguing. It's not every day that our calculations turn out wrong. Ever since the Harry Potter incident, that seems to be the case."

The Director nodded. "I can see the question in your eyes. Ask away, my dear friend."

"Why did you and Albus Dumbledore let them escape? As much as I know Baron Black, he is not powerful enough to evade both of you," Star asked, confusion evident in their tone.

The Director remained silent for a few minutes before replying. "I didn't intervene because that would have caused confusion among the Blacks and Dumbledore. The moment I arrived at Azkaban, I knew the bodyguard was dangerous. My own magic prepared to fight even before I saw him. I am quite certain that the Headmaster didn't simply let them escape—they surprised him with their power, and they got away. It was the bodyguard who did the work, not Lord Black."

"I see… But for someone to make you wary and even surprise the Headmaster, he must be a Magical Lord. But how is that possible? Every single one of those overpowered, prideful fools is accounted for," Star questioned.

The Director looked pained as he admitted, "It seems that things are beyond even our control. It is not easy to outplay fate and Lady Magic herself. Sometimes, anomalies happen—just as Tom Riddle happened.

"Now, enough of that. What's the progress on locating Potter? His godfather is free now, and he is the rightful guardian. I don't want Black to have two Class-1 threats on his side."

Star grimaced. "Unfortunately, there are no leads. The Muggle spooks have also hit a dead end. The lack of any records or memories of this child, when the recordings clearly show his presence, is baffling. Whoever erased him was too professional, and except for the shield, everyone else has ignored this mystery. I have Legilimised dozens of people, and none of them were Obliviated or had their memories suppressed through mind magic. It was something else—only a telepath could have done this."

"I see… Continue the investigation and monitor the situation. Also, I heard from Malfoy that one of the old houses has liquidated its entire vault into Muggle currency. Such a major interference in the Muggle world shouldn't be allowed. Malfoy believes it might be connected, and there's a chance it is. Find out which house is responsible."

Star nodded at the order and left to meet their contacts.

St Mungo's

Fudge groaned as he woke from his healing coma. As the fog in his mind cleared, the first emotions he felt were anger and fear. He groaned again, forcing his eyes open, and was met with the sight of the Headmaster reading The Daily Prophet, his eyes twinkling and a grin on his face.

"I hope you're enjoying The Prophet blasting Black's foolishness —challenging you alongside three competent wizards," Fudge hissed.

"Ah, Cornelius, just the man I was waiting for," Albus said cheerfully. "But, alas, I must disappoint you. The Prophet is not condemning Black—it's tearing into me instead, questioning my weakening in old age. The bodyguard defended against all my attacks and even shattered Azkaban's wards before portkeying away." His tone turned semi-serious, the twinkle in his eyes dimming slightly.

"What?!" Fudge yelled, his face turning red. "You let them escape?! This is preposterous!"

His gaze locked onto the Headmaster—the most powerful wizard of their time—and he observed something unusual. Dumbledore looked… relieved, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"I assure you, Cornelius, I didn't let anything happen," Albus said calmly. "I am not infallible. The bodyguard's skill and power caught me off guard. At the very least, I ensured that no Dementors or prisoners escaped and that both you and Amelia survived. Unfortunately, Lucius's wand arm is gone—it was turned to ash by one of our spells," he added with a hint of mirth.

"Are the Aurors hunting for the Blacks? Have their assets been frozen? Have arrest warrants been issued?" Fudge demanded.

"Ah, but the confusion within the Ministry—both you and Amelia injured and still recovering—has stalled the process. No one dares to provoke the Blacks while The Prophet is relentlessly exposing the illegal imprisonment of Sirius Black and the lack of a trial. The wizarding world is in chaos, Cornelius. Even the most devoted Light supporters are furious, and the fact that the supposed 'right hand of Voldemort' was never even questioned has only made things worse. The public is outraged at the incompetence of the ministry. There are voices echoing how many of their lost ones is because of said incompetence."

"This is a disaster," Fudge muttered, his face pale. "And they don't even know about the other issue…" He grimaced, his hands trembling slightly.

After a moment of thought, he straightened. "Chief Warlock, I'm calling an emergency Wizengamot session to address this. I will push a petition to have Lord Black arrested and made to answer for this transgression."

Albus's smile vanished. "Minister, I strongly advise against that. Baron Black is still a respected figure, and many Lords fear him. The Prophet is already making it seem as though he even bested me. You should reopen Sirius Black's case and summon the ones responsible for his incarceration—namely, Barty Crouch Sr. and former Minister Bagnold. Let them take the rightful blame and be the scapegoats."

"And admit that something is wrong with the Ministry?" Fudge scoffed. "Never. Chief Warlock, send out the owls. The meeting is in two days."

Albus Dumbledore merely looked nonchalant at that before giving a quiet nod of agreement.

Fudge swallowed his anger at Dumbledore as the man whistled out of the room as if there is nothing wrong with the world.

'Pathetic and mad in old age.' His mind whispered.

Two Days Later

Wizengamot

Lord Black entered the Wizengamot chambers with a deafening boom, blasting the grand doors open. The goblin-forged steel crashed against the stone walls, sending echoes reverberating through the chamber. A smug smile tugged at his lips as he took in the wide-eyed shock of the gathered Lords and Ladies. But it was the expressions on Malfoy's and Fudge's faces that truly made his day.

He cast a fleeting glance toward the Auror guards stationed at the entrance, nodding slightly. The guard hesitated but did not move to stop him. If he had done his job properly, this entrance wouldn't have been possible. Only a select few—Harry, Dumbledore, or the Dark Lord himself—could have broken through those wards, but he could do too, afterall money is also a form of power.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Fudge yelled, his voice weaker than usual, still recovering from his injuries.

Lord Black snorted in open derision. Fudge recoiled as though he had been physically struck.

"I hold a seat in this chamber, Minister," Black said smoothly, his smile sharp as a knife. "And I have come to attend this meeting, for I have much to say to this assembly of respected lords."

"But you attacked me, the Chief Warlock, and the Director of the DMLE!" Fudge snapped. "You should be under arrest and presented before the Wizengamot for judgment. Aurors, arrest this man!"

"Enough."

Albus Dumbledore's voice cut through the murmurs growing within the chamber. The murmuring had intensified into a full-blown discussion as lords turned to one another, debating the legality of the situation and Baron Black being arrested.

"Cornelius," Dumbledore continued, his tone patient but firm, "you do not command the Aurors. Lady Bones does. And you'll notice… she remains silent."

Fudge's face twitched.

"You called this emergency session to present evidence against Lord Black and request an arrest warrant from the Wizengamot," Dumbledore went on. "Yet now, you attempt to bypass due process entirely. You are violating multiple laws, Minister."

"Thank you, Albus, for illuminating that truth," Lucius Malfoy drawled, voice laced with sarcasm. "However, the fact remains—Lord Black and his mysterious bodyguard have inflicted grievous harm upon myself and the leaders of this country." He raised his right arm, now fitted with a sleek, silver prosthetic. "Do not let the devious tongue of Lord Black whisper poison into our ears. Let this farce end—arrest him now, and reveal the identity of his bodyguard immediately."

Black chuckled darkly. "Oh, Malfoy, still licking your wounds, I see. It seems your plan to kill my heir in Azkaban failed spectacularly. You orchestrated that fight and now, with me standing in your way, you seek to remove me as well."

His voice turned cold, his gray eyes dark with fury.

"I fought against those who sought to continue torturing a pureblood heir—my grandson—with Dementors. If the Ministry refuses to acknowledge that crime and punish those responsible… there will be blood. House Black is prepared to declare a blood feud against all who had a hand in my grandson's illegal kidnapping and torment."

A collective gasp rippled through the chamber. The history of House Black's blood feuds was well known—many noble families had been wiped out entirely through those very means.

Lucius Malfoy merely scoffed. "Blood feud? You would resort to barbaric and archaic traditions?" He sneered. "And with what family, Lord Black? House Black is reduced to an old man and a disgraced, escaped criminal. Your threats carry no weight anymore."

Lord Black just grimaced as the other lords looked entertained by all the drama. But many still feared the consequences as you don't know when House Black's mail come to you with something you cannot afford not to do. The grimace turned to a smirk as a plan came to him.

"You always were a fool, Malfoy," he said, shaking his head. His voice turned almost conversational. "I always knew Narcissa chose wrong when she married you."

His smirk sharpened.

"I, Lord Arcturus Black of House Black, hereby disinherit Narcissa Malfoy, née Black, from House Black. All assets used for her dowry are to be returned to House Black immediately."

A pulse of raw magic surged through the chamber. A grim-faced, spectral hound—the manifestation of House Black's magic—appeared in the center of the Wizengamot before vanishing in the direction of Malfoy Manor.

Lucius Malfoy paled. His lips parted slightly, his expression a perfect mix of fury and horror.

"You were saying, Malfoy?" Black taunted, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Also, you questioned what families would support me? As of yesterday, I am the regent of House Potter."

The chamber exploded into shouts and gasps.

"What?!"

"Impossible!"

The noise became so deafening that Dumbledore was forced to raise his wand, casting a Silencing charm to silence them.…

"Lord Black," Dumbledore said, his expression unreadable. "I assume the Goblins and the Ministry have verified this claim?"

"But of course, Chief Warlock." Black looked downright gleeful. "My grandson, Sirius, possesses a copy of the Potter will, naming him regent and guardian of Harry Potter. Even if that was not valid, my brother-in-law Charlus Potter and I signed a mutual agreement of protection and guardianship. My nephew, James Potter, in his foolishness, neglected to renew it. But still—the blood relation exists. That was enough for me to claim regency until Sirius recuperates."

It was clever of Harry himself declare Arturus regent but the public didn't need to know that. Black thought as he saw the headmaster hiding something behind his Occulmency.

Dumbledore's expression tightened slightly. The regency was lost to him, he thought as he saw Lord Black's smug grin.

"Headmaster, my owl will arrive shortly, demanding you inform me of my grand-nephew's location. It is time he returns to his magical bloodline." His tone was mocking, knowing full well that Dumbledore would now be implicated in Harry Potter's disappearance.

Dumbledore's eyes no longer twinkled. "I will await your owl, Lord Black.

Before anyone could regain control of the room, a new voice cut through the tension.

"Lord Black," said Lord Greengrass coolly, "as entertaining and dramatic as your return has been, we require proof. The Prophet claims you possess undeniable evidence of Sirius Black's innocence. If so, let us see it, and end this farce."

Oh, I am to proved proof. Black said as he a trunk from his robes pocket. Black opened the trunk with a wand wave and a rat in a glass container floated out.

Everyone was speechless as they couldn't understand but many guessed it was a animagus.

Black's smirk turned downright sinister. He reached into his robes, pulling out a small trunk. With a wave of his wand, the trunk snapped open—and a glass container floated out.

Inside was a rat.

Silence gripped the room. Many were confused, but a few narrowed their eyes.

"This," Black declared, voice carrying through the chamber, "is my proof."

He flicked his wand, opening the container. The stunned rat tumbled to the floor with a small thud, a pained squeak escaping even in its unconscious state.

Fudge sneered. "A rat? Have you lost your mind in your old age, Lord Black?"

Arcturus's smirk vanished.

"It was my mistake to expect intelligence from a fool, Minister," he said coldly. "Next time you interrupt me or disrespect me, I will take it personally."

A shiver ran through the chamber.

"As many here have already guessed," Black continued smoothly, "this is an Animagus—one who has been hiding in rat form for years." His gaze swept over the assembled lords. "Tell me, my fellow Lords—should we truly allow a man so woefully ignorant of basic third-year Transfiguration knowledge, to remain Minister?"

Fudge paled as he saw several lords actually considering the question.

"Who is this Lord Black?" Amelia Bones asked, having already checked whether the person was an Animagus. "It is a man, all right."

"This rat here, both literally and figuratively, is Peter Pettigrew, the secret keeper of the Potters, while my grandson Sirius was the decoy. But they didn't know he was a Death Eater, in his cowardice, for long, and thus Voldemort found the Potters. But fate is a funny thing. Pettigrew lost the support of the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters. Sirius hunted him down in anger, and the rat fired a blasting curse at a gas line, killing eleven Muggles. He then sliced off his own finger, which was later found. It was very surprising when I discovered this rat."

Albus looked very angry as he understood the situation, his thoughts turning to the dead Order members. How many died because of this spy? he wondered.

Before anyone could act, Albus decided to take matters into his own hands. It was a hurricane of magic. The Elder Wand, waved in the air. The result was instantaneous.

The rat turned into a human—who many recognized as Peter Pettigrew. The air then solidified into a chair, and chains were charmed to stop any Animagus transformations for a while. Three more charms hit Peter: a basic healing one, an energizing charm, and a calming one. With another wave, a vial of Veritaserum floated from the side shelf, where it was stored for court use, and three drops were poured down Peter's throat.

It was then that someone finally reacted to Albus' actions, which had stopped waking Peter.

"Chief Warlock, Veritaserum is banned from questioning unless there is a three-quarters vote or the person himself agrees," Lord Malfoy said with contempt.

"Ah, Lucius, that is for purebloods who are citizens of Britain. Peter Pettigrew is declared dead by the Ministry, and this here is a "nobody", who has no rights as a British citizen. We must find out who he is, after all. And one more thing, Lucius—dead men have no rights or wishes," Albus said, his eyes twinkling madly and a grin spreading across his face, infuriating his opponents. "Now, be silent and let the rat sing."

And sing he did….

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