"An admirable goal," Remus said. "What this opportunity would give you is the political exposure, contacts and sponsorship you need to get into the Ministry as a muggleborn."
Penelope's eyebrows shot up at the blunt truth. "You mean I didn't get a position because of…but that's discrimination and…" she stopped abruptly as she recalled who she was complaining to and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, I'm so…"
"No apologies necessary," Remus waved her off, "the truth is we're both discriminated against – myself officially under law and you unofficially under tradition. The Ministry prefers positions are appointed to purebloods first."
"I think Mister Weasley tried to warn me." Penelope admitted ruefully. She took a breath and fixed Remus with a determined look. "I'm happy to take the position if you'll have me."
"Good," Remus said, "when can you start?"
"Tomorrow." Penelope offered.
"You'll need to come to the house. Shall we say ten o'clock?" Remus gestured with his wand over a slip of parchment. She frowned as she took hold of it.
"My steward Remus Lupin invites you to 12 Grimmauld Place"
"The Fidelius charm?" Penelope asked excitedly.
"He's quite protective of his privacy. The parchment will be blank for anyone but you." Remus said dryly. "I'll explain everything tomorrow. You should be prepared to take an employment oath and we'll go over your duties and salary then." He got to his feet.
Penelope got to hers, stuck out her hand and offered a bright smile. "Thank you for the opportunity, Mister Lupin."
"Call me Remus. We will be colleagues." Remus offered, shaking her hand.
"Oh, well then you must call me Penelope." She said, letting go and picking up her bag. "Thanks again, Remus." She bit her lip. "Lordy, that was weird."
"Think how I felt when I called my old Head of House Minerva for the first time." Remus commiserated cheerfully and laughed at her horrified expression as she realised he meant Professor McGonagall. "I'll see you tomorrow."
He waited until she was gone before he took down the privacy charm, grinning to himself all the while. A muggleborn assistant for Lord Black. Sirius's ancestors would be disgusted at letting a muggleborn have such a prestigious position.
And Sirius was going to be delighted.
o-O-o
"We're losing him!"
Sirius felt his heart stutter in his chest but he refused to be removed from his place by Harry's side as the healers bustled around him, trying to save his godson.
Neither he nor Harry had slept well in the cabin they'd been appointed the night before. It was a great cabin; it had two bedrooms, a shower room, a large den and a small kitchenette. There was even a private pool attached. But they hadn't been able to appreciate it fully after the news about Harry's scar.
Sirius had gotten up half-way through the night to find Harry sat in front of the fire in the den. He'd changed into Padfoot and offered doggy comfort, feeling that Harry would pretend he was fine to a worried and panicking godfather but might open up to his alter ego. As Harry had petted him and slowly started confiding in Padfoot about his fears over the treatment, over the residue and the connection, Sirius figured he'd made the right call.
The morning though had seen Harry scared but resolute; Sirius had never been so proud of him. Harry has asked him tentatively if he would stay with him during the procedures and Sirius had immediately reassured him that he would be there every step of the way.
He was not going to be moved. His hand tightened around Harry's.
His godson had been given a potion that rendered him unconscious. A metal bracelet had been placed on one wrist, draining Harry's magic away from him. A balding middle-aged Healer called Darcy was perched at Harry's head with strange aura tracing goggles adorning his face, a magical wand fashioned like a muggle scalpel in his hand, prying the dark form of the foreign soul-piece away from Harry's scar.
Everything had been going well until the dark blob caught on the end of the medical wand had begun to fight back, additional tendrils snaking out towards Harry faster than Darcy could cauterize them.
Harry had begun to thrash violently. Jordan and another female healer, Gargou, had stepped into hold him down. And now…
Harry had stopped breathing!
Blackhawk stepped up and waved his wand furiously over Harry's form; breathing apparatus appeared over Harry's mouth and nostrils, sending oxygen into his body.
Sirius could breathe again too; his heart pounded loudly in his chest.
"We need to drain his magic more! This bastard is fighting tooth and nail here!" Darcy snapped, his blue eyes flashing imperiously at Blackhawk.
"If we drain anymore of the magical core, we'll kill the boy!" Jordan argued.
"She is right." Blackhawk said. "We did not anticipate the soul piece being so strong; it must have fed a great deal on the boy's magic despite the binding."
Gargou snapped her fingers, her dark eyes darting towards Blackhawk. "We need to give Potter power without giving the soul piece any!"
"How?" Darcy demanded even as he severed another tendril that tried to make its way from the dark shape at the end of the wand back to Harry. There were several tendrils still attached, clinging with all their might to the scar.
"The only magic that answers to the boy alone would be his family magic." Blackhawk stated swiftly. He looked over Harry's prone form to Sirius. "Can you call it through the godfather oath?"
Sirius had no idea – he'd never heard of family magic being called that way – but he nodded sharply. "I can try." He cleared his throat, brought Harry's hand to rest against his heart and placed his own remaining hand over Harry's thin, naked chest. "I, Sirius Orion Black, godfather to Harry James Potter in heart, in magic, in oath. This son of the House of Potter has need of you – familius magicus protectus!"
Suddenly, a golden mist sprang up from Harry's skin and formed a fierce griffin who gave a wild cry.
The griffin looked towards Sirius and somehow Sirius knew what it wanted…what he had to do…
"I, Sirius Orion Black, Head of the House of Black, call forth the magic of the House of Black – familius magicus protectus!"
The silver snake of the House of Black poured out of the House ring. For a long moment, snake and griffin looked at each other before the snake dived into the griffin, merging with it.
The griffin doubled in size and roared.
"Dear Merlin!" Jordan gasped.
Darcy's brow ran with sweat as he lifted his eyes momentarily to the frightening sight of the griffin – he had continued his work throughout the calling, focused on trying to remove all the tendrils of evil from Harry. The griffin roared again and dived for Harry's scar, finally sending Darcy scuttling back, losing the dark soul on the end of his wand in the process.
But the griffin was suddenly there; one claw drove into the boy's head and emerged with the last of the tendrils while the other caught the dark soul fragment in its talons.
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