Title: Sentinel Fury
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Sirius Black, Ellie Potter (female Harry), Dolores Umbridge, Wizengamot
Genre: Sentinel fusion; same world as Senses of Magic (LBD)
Word Count: 820
Warnings: Don’t fuck with Sirius Black
Author Note: This could be considered loosely based on my Senses of Magic sentinel fusion story. It is not a sign of a coming sequel; please don't ask for one.
“You know,” Sirius spoke over the chatter of the Wizengamot, “a few people have asked me about Azkaban.” Silence fell as he leaned back in his chair — ornate and ancient — and withdrew a black cigarillo from his robe. “The most common thing I’m asked is, aren’t you angry? You were betrayed, abused, imprisoned, and abandoned by the Ministry and your family — why aren’t you furious?”
Beside him, in her own seat, was his goddaughter; Ellie Potter, Sentinel and witch, the light of his life and the reason he refused to allow bitterness and anger to rule him. She was thirteen years old, brave and sneaky and full of humour — and vibrating with fury.
“So I’d like to congratulate you all,” he continued, speaking to the three wizards and witch who had just presented a new proposal for discussion. “Congratulations. You’ve succeeded in making me fucking angry.”
He lit his cigar with a spark of wandless magic — and the stack of parchment sitting before Dolores Umbridge erupted into a pillar of flame.
The bitch — who had somehow survived the purge of the Minister’s Office that had occurred after the truth of Sirius’ imprisonment had come out — shrieked and toppled, arse over teakettle, out of her seat. The room erupted — shouts, surprise, and laughter. Ellie giggled beside him, and Sirius almost smiled.
“So, needless to say, that particular piece of legislation is firmly vetoed. Though why you morons thought you might be able to pass a bill making all sentinels wards of the Ministry is beyond me.”
“Now, we’ve been here for six hours, and I promised my goddaughter we’d have tea at the Savoie this afternoon. So, in the interests of expediency — does anyone have anything to put before this body that isn’t full of bigotry, self-interest, or anything that will make me call someone to a dueling platform?”
Despite the fact that three other Lords were on the agenda for the day — no one spoke.
Until, as usual, Dumbledore decided to interfere. “Sirius —”
“Lord Black, Lord Ravensmoor, or Your Grace. Don’t make me remind you again.”
The usual twinkle became disappointed. “Is this really necessary, Lord Black?”
“Since, apparently, the wix in this room seem incapable of learning a lesson — yes, Chief Warlock, it is. Now,” he flicked a bit of ash, “I’m going to say something, and I want you all to remember it. The next time someone tries to waste the time of this body with blatant bigotry like the Werewolf Registration Act that was on the agenda today, or this piece of hippogriff dung — I’m not only going to exercise my veto power, I’m going to call someone out. And I will remind you all; he might have died when I was young, but I am every inch my father’s son.”
Since Orion Black had been a world-class duelist, who had faced Alastor Moody on a formal stage five times and won three, it was a rather pointed statement.
“So you will set the agenda of this entire body, Your Grace?”
“No, Lord Malfoy; I’m informing you that I refuse to waste my life combating overt racism and stupidity one instance at a time when there are much more efficient ways of doing so.”
“You —!” Umbridge had managed to get to her feet, a little singed and very unhappy. She’d even lost that affected little girl’s voice of hers, in favour of a shrill tone. “You can’t —! I’ll have you arrested!”
“Madam, you attempted to make yourself a threat to my daughter in magic — you’re lucky to be alive.”
“I did no such —”
“That bill was a blatant attempt to gain control of my ward. Not that your bill would have done you any good — the first time a Ministry official tried to take custody of a sentinel with an online parent, they would have been torn apart by a feral sentinel.”
“Sentinels are dangerous! They must be appropriately controlled by the Ministry, for the good of Magical Britain!”
Around the room, several people — sentinels or guides, or those related to them — growled.
“Someone get her out of here, before she triggers a mass feral episode. Oh, madam?” The Auror who had seized her pink-clad arm allowed the woman to turn. “If you ever so much as think of my goddaughter again, much less consider a way to do her harm — I’ll kill you and bathe in your blood.”
The Wizengamot closed, its members and the witness gallery emptying with speed, even as Dolores Umbridge’s unconscious form was carried out.
Ellie smirked. “Watching idiots pass out makes me hungry.”
“Sweetheart, breathing makes you hungry at your age.”
“Yeah, but sweets taste better after you see someone get a well-deserved comeuppance.”
“So, dessert first?”
She gave him a Look. “Sirius, dessert should always come first.”