By Rita Skeeter

As the whole Wizarding World knows, the Potters were killed by the hand of You-Know-Who. It was said that Sirius Black had a part in this, which was verified by Head Auror Scrimgeour and Mr Dumbledore.
Nothing could have been further from the truth! Previously Mr Black wasn't given a trial, because according to the Headmaster of Hogwarts "people like Black don't deserve a trial." Morien Nephele Black née Gyges filed a lawsuit and won. Yes, you read that correctly. It turns out that Mr Black and Ms Gyges are secretly married. On the night of 31th August they thought it was time to tell their friends, the Potters.
You might be wondering how You-Know-Who got in their house. Apparently, Black wasn't their secret keeper, but Peter Pettigrew! Pettigrew's motives and whereabouts are unknown, but I can assure you what I'm telling is nothing but the truth. There has been a pensive used and Wizarding Oaths sworn.
You could be wondering why this hadn't been done in the first instance. I investigated the case with the utmost care, and I concluded that Albus Dumbledore is the culprit! I know it sounds very unrealistic, but think about it: Dumbledore said Black didn't deserve a trial, so he didn't get one. But he should know that Sirius Black has no ounce of evil in him! He as Headmaster of Hogwarts, the school the Potters and Black attended, should have noticed that they never even had a brawl.
Furthermore, denying someone a trial is unjust. According to Wizarding Law article 102583: 127 clause 8 everybody deserves a fair trial and everyone is innocent till proven guilty. But apparently this doesn't relate to Lord Black. I think Mr Black deserves an apology of all who claimed him to be guilty. And I hereby apologise on behalf of The Prophet and I wish Lord and Lady Black joy.

If someone would enter 12 Grimmauld Place now, he would think he was high on something: A boy running naked through the hallway with a lady hot on his heels and a portrait cheering them on. But appearances can be deceiving. The lady is actually trying to catch the boy so he can finally –FINALLY- put his clothes on, and they can leave. And the portrait isn't cheering them on. No, far from it. It's actually discouraging them both.
Walburga wasn't really a contribution to the situation… Harry, startled by the shrieking portrait, tripped and fell. One could see he was trying to hold back his sobs, but soon he shed crocodile tears. Nephele rushed to him and held him close.
"Shhh, it's okay, Hadrian." She gave a kiss on his sore knee. "A kiss will make the pain go away. Come, Hadrian, you have to dress up now or else we will be too late to pick Sirius up."
Harry shook his head and grasped her firm.
"What's wrong, Hadrian?" He shook his head again and said lowly: "What if Siri don't like me, 'nd don't want me? " Nephele held him tight while rubbing his back. "Sirius loves you very, very much. He wouldn't stop talking about you and do you know what he said?" He looked up astonished and shook his head. "He said that he wanted a child just like you. You had him wrapped around your little finger without realising," she told him and looked him in the eyes to show him she was serious. The cat animagus picked him up and dressed him up. After double-checking whether they had everything, they stepped finally –FINALLY- into the fireplace.

Before she became aware of her surroundings, she was grabbed and a warm, muscular body pressed against her. At first she struggled and tried to get away, but when she scented the mystery man –sandalwood, apples, cinnamon, basil and sweat- she leaned in and settled down.
"I missed you," her attacker murmured.
She looked up and took his features in. Under his watery, grey eyes bangs were noticeable and she felt he had lost some weight.
"I thought I would never see you again," said Sirius before claiming her luscious, pink lips. "Eeew! Gross! Siri!Ma!" an unfortunate victim, who sadly had to watch their gooey antics, exclaimed. Sirius jolted and looked at Harry, then at Nephele again, then back at Harry.
There was an awkward silence. Both adults didn't know what to say, which Harry took as a rejection. "Told you, Ma… Siri don't like me. Now nobody want me," the infant wept. Nephele stared at Sirius with a wicked and ferocious glare as if telling him: 'It's all your fault. Fix it.' Sirius panicked and stammered something along the lines of 'No no no no! Don't cry, Prongslet! Please please please stop crying! I'm sorry! I don't know what I did, but whatever it is. I'm sorry!' while making exuberant gestures –and knocking down a few unfortunate Ministry workers. Harry stopped sobbing, looked up into his godfather's eyes and saw that the man was in fact sorry. He released his mother's leg and wrapped his arms around Padfoot's instead.
" 'S okay"
After he calmed down, they returned to Grimmauld Place. There they shared their stories, tears and glee, and fell asleep on the ground. Everyone except Sirius. He was too joyful to go to sleep. His charming wife (and how cliché it might sound), the love of his life, had faith in him and had supported him all the way. And he would be honoured to raise Harry up with his Nephele. The moonlight lit her beautiful face up and accentuated her curvy body. His hand moved on its own accord and caressed her lips, cheeks, neck, arms. He watched her hungrily, as if she could disappear any moment. As though he would wake up in his cell in Azkaban, and find out it was just a dream. Or a nightmare.