MINISTER FUDGE did not want any more trouble. His career couldn't survive even the slightest scandal. The incident involving him entering the flat of Maeve Elpis and accusing Sirius Black of being an illegal animagus had backfired terribly. Not only was the public calling for his resignation, even the witches and wizards serving Wizengamot were looking to take action against him. The only thing that was keeping him afloat was the fact that Charlus Potter and the others hadn't approached the courts seeking justice against his actions.

No doubt, Fudge was absolutely furious that he had been manipulated to fall into a trap. But it was made very clear that Charlus Potter was not one to be messed with. He had seriously underestimated his opponent and now with Charlus having the public backing him, including the media, Fudge couldn't take any step forward without being closely monitored or criticised.

He wasn't surprised when Albus Dumbledore approached him one early evening, but Fudge wished he hadn't.

"My hands are tied, Albus," Fudge sighed as he settled behind his desk, " I'm afraid I am of little use, despite my title. What exactly are you hoping for?"

"Harry Potter needs to return under the guardianship of his maternal aunt, Petunia Dursley. I spoke with Charlus a few days prior and he agreed to visitation with Harry, but it was all a ploy. He took Harry away from the Dursley residence without my permission."

Fudge glanced up from where he had been averting his gaze at the floor. " Are you implying that Harry Potter was kidnapped?"

"Technically, no," Albus replied, looking awfully pained for a split second, " his aunt willingly handed Harry over to Charlus. She was so bold to say that she would say that Harry is visiting with his uncle until arraignments are made. They are seeking to terminate their own guardianship and transfer it over to Charlus as we speak. I'm afraid they will be pursuing it within the muggle courts."

"Are you afraid of that because they are in their own legal rights to do so?" Both men turned around to see, a witch standing in the doorway, her head held up high and her eyes locked in on both of them.

"Madam Bones," Fudge swallowed, " what brings you here?"

Amelia Bones, once a former student of Albus Dumbledore and now part of Wizengamot, entered the office. Her hair was sleeked back in a firm bun, allowing her cheekbones to become a prominent feature of her face.

"Forgive me, Minister," she began, although she didn't sound very apologetic, " but I was here to deliver your court summons personally when I overheard the conversation. Seeing as I'm well versed in the wizarding laws and even quite familiar with our muggle counterparts, allow me to advise the two of you. Professor, you hold no legal grounds when it comes to the custody or guardianship of Harry Potter."

"I believe with the lack of proper information, Madam Bones, you are mistaken, " Albus replied calmly. "I have been responsible for Harry's care since the night of Lily and James Potter's death. He was under my responsibility."

"Are you truly willing to make such a claim?" Amelia asked him. "Because Wizengamot received a letter from Charlus Potter himself claiming the same thing,  while also adding that you were  endangering his nephew's life knowingly."

"That is a wild claim if I ever heard one, Madam Bones."

The polite smile on her lips before faded with every passing second. "Allow me to ask this then, Professor. Did you put Harry Potter in a household, knowing there was a strong possibility of neglect? Were you informed and advised by others not to place him in the Dursley household, in fear that Harry would be placed in harm's way? Did you discuss the custodial arrangements with Petunia Dursley before placing Harry Potter in her care?"

"As I stated before, Madam Bones," Albus said, " there is a lack of proper information. This is not a matter of simply black or white. Harry Potter was left orphaned the night his parents were killed and Charlus Potter was not available to take his nephew in after being attacked by Death Eaters. Harry's safety was bestowed on me and I approached Petunia Dursleys to seek guardianship over him for his safety."

"You are very careful with your words. But according to the letter I received, your definition of approach was a letter left with Harry Potter after he was left on the Dursleys' doorstep. The letter that told a muggle family to take responsibility for a magical child, that they weren't prepared for. And with no follow-up to ensure that Harry Potter was being looked after. Petunia Dursley claimed that she felt as though her family was in danger and lived in constant fear having Harry Potter under their roof. Did you look into the matter?"

"Petunia Dursley is familiar with magic. Lily Potter was born a muggle-born within the Evans family-"

"That's not answering my question, Professor," Amelia continued. " I did not ask if Petunia was familiar with magic. I asked if you looked into the matter in which Petunia Dursley felt as though her family was being threatened by magic? If you are so concern about the custody of Harry Potter, why would you not check in on him over the years? And more importantly, make sure his environment was adequate for his upbringing? You said it yourself that he was your responsibility."

Albus felt as though even if everything he said was correct and true, that Amelia Bones had already made up her mind on the matter before she had arrived at Fudge's office.

"I figured as such," she sighed with a slight shake of her head, " however if Petunia Dursley is willing to terminate her rights in muggle court and transfer guardianship over to Charlus Potter, she is in her right to do so. You placed Harry in her custody, she is a muggle, she has a right to pursue matters in her home court."

Amelia walked over, her heels clicking with every step that carried a tone of authority. She placed the court summons on Fudge's desk, before turning to Albus with another set of papers.

"What is this?" Albus questioned, not bothering to look the papers over.

"Your court summons, Professors, you've been properly served."

Since the incident between Sirius and Walburga that led the older woman into a coughing fit, Maeve had taken over with looking after the mistress of Grimmauld Place. Sirius had told her not to bother and to let Kreacher look after his mother, but even though Maeve wasn't at St Mungo's, she felt as though it was her duty to still uphold her oath and help those in need. And it seemed over the years, Walburga had completely neglected her health, allowing simple conditions to become worse.

Kreacher did not want Maeve anywhere near his mistress but he didn't have a choice either unless he wanted to watch Walburga die a slow and painful death.

The coughing fit had left Walburga in a weakened state, where she would sleep for the majority of the day. Maeve would enter the bedroom and check her pulse and breathing to make sure she was still alive throughout the day. It was one morning that Maeve was checking Walburga's pulse, it seemed fainter than usually but it was still there.

She held Walburga's hand in her own as she timed and counted the number of heartbeats. It was tough to say how long Walburga had before she finally passed on. And while Sirius attempted to pretend that he didn't care, it was obvious to Charlus and Maeve that he was fretting the moment more than anything. She would do her best to buy Walburga as much time as possible.

Suddenly, as Maeve flipped over Walburga's hand to check her watch, she felt Walburga's cold grip tighten around her own hand. She glanced up to see Walburga watching her carefully.

"Why are you even bothering to help me?" Walburga asked her. "Wouldn't it make all your lives easier if you just let me die already?"

"Mrs Black, I'm a Healer, it's not in my role to say who lives and who dies. I took an oath to serve anyone, no matter their background. What kind of Healer would I be if I simply let someone die without trying to help?"

Walburga didn't respond right away, turning her head to avert her gaze. But every so often, she would steal a look, out of the corner of her eye, and watch Maeve at work.

"Where did you get those markings on your arms?"

Maeve glanced down at her arms to see that her sleeves had been lifted enough to reveal old scarring. With a slight blush, she pulled down both sleeves and attempted to focus on her work of mixing several ingredients together.

"My mother gave them to me," she finally answered, " years ago, when she learned that I was a witch."

She could feel Walburga tense under her hold, more than likely due to the realisation that she was being cared for by a muggle-born.

"You call yourself a capable Healer, when you can't even heal your own scars?" Walburga questioned her further. "You could easily take care of those blemishes!"

"I know that. But I don't want to. It's crossed my mind over the years to just heal them and forget it ever happened. But at the same time, they remind me of how far I've come to get to where I am now. My mother feared the idea of magic, enough that she thought she could beat it out of me. Similar to how you feared muggles so much that you tried anything to convince Sirius the same."

Walburga gasped. "I never hit him! I never laid a finger on him!"

"I never said you did, but that doesn't mean you didn't hurt him due to your own beliefs. My scars are mostly superficial now, but Sirius'...not so much. He carries his scars inside of him. But you know, deep down, he still cares about you. I guess in the same way I still care about my mother, even if she put me through hell."

"Sirius is just overdramatic," Walburga huffed, although Maeve could see where he got it from, " he's overly sensitive. I don't expect you to understand our beliefs, especially with your upbringing."

"There's really not much of a difference," Maeve shrugged. "My mother believed that those possessed magic were evil and would lead to the corruption of people. You believe that those who do not possess magic are beneath you and lead to the corruption of the wizarding world. I honestly see no difference, no matter how you attempt to say it. It's the same thing. It's ignorance."

"You dare call me ignorant in my own home? You foul-"

"What ignorant person would ever admit that they were ignorant? It's like asking a narcissist if they are a narcissist. They can't see it for themselves, so they wouldn't dare to admit it. You've grown up your whole life believing the same thing, you wouldn't dare let others change your mind because that would be admitting that you were wrong. It takes a hit to the pride to admit such a thing.  So, yes, I dare to call you ignorant in your own home because that's what you are. You don't listen to understand or learn, you listen enough to respond and argue."

No longer willing to hold a discussion with Walburga, Maeve pushed herself up and placed the draught on the nightstand.

"No more talking. Drink that or your airways will become inflamed again. I'll be back later to check up on you."