The next day, in Diagon Alley, London.
Griffin's Nest, the headquarters of the Marauders Power Company, stood quietly at the end of the ancient street like a slumbering beast.
Reporters from major publications, including the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, and even The Quibbler, along with some specially invited lower- and mid-ranking Ministry of Magic officials, packed the press conference venue to bursting.
The air was filled with the smell of ink on fine parchment, nervous sweat, and the exhilarating scent of Galleons about to change hands.
Rita Skeeter sat in the front row, her signature garish emerald robes standing out among the surrounding crowd in dark suits or traditional wizarding robes.
She had her Quick-Quotes Quill ready, an expectant smile on her face like a vulture that had spotted carrion, prepared to lend her support to her new ally.
The lights over the podium suddenly came on, drawing everyone's attention.
Sirius Black slowly emerged from backstage.
He wore perfectly fitted dark gray wizarding robes, custom-made by a top Italian wizarding tailor, their fabric reflecting a flowing silver sheen beneath the lights.
His unruly long hair had been meticulously groomed, and he positively glowed, his gray eyes glittering with an almost arrogant confidence.
There was not a trace of the stiffness or solemnity of the head of the Hogwarts Academic Affairs Office about him. In their place was the powerful, captivating charisma of a successful entrepreneur.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen."
He stepped up to the podium, his voice reaching everyone's ears clearly through the magical amplifier, rich and resonant with a natural infectiousness.
He surveyed the room, his gaze lingering briefly on each expectant or skeptical face.
"I know why you're here."
Sirius smiled and spoke at an unhurried pace.
"Just yesterday, a minor incident took place at Hogwarts Castle.