Chapter Text
On her list of irrational fears of how she’d die, being sucked into a toilet due to pressure was high up there. It was only possible at a cruising altitude of at least thirty-three thousand feet in a commercial airline, using the toilet, and flushing it while sitting on it. It’s not a pretty death and a horrifically painful one to boot. But it is an irrational and unreasonable fear for a reason. Mainly because she always stood up to flush. So being sucked in was 100% impossible.
No. Not impossible, 99.99999999% improbable. Because she was just sucked in. Or rather flushed in. And she wasn’t even in an airplane!
Her whole body felt squeezed and twisted on all sides as toilet water rushed around her. She hadn’t taken a breath but she needn’t have as the water disappeared as quickly as it appeared. She stumbled out of what looked like an incredibly large fireplace in a blaze of green fire that didn’t burn her.
This broke her unusual meter.
She thought it couldn’t get any weirder until the momentum sent her sprawling forward. The loose ends of her sleeves flopped and her pants sagged around her hips. The bag she’d been grabbing from the toilet stall hook went flying and she gasped as her head bounced against the hard floor. She barely managed to keep her glasses on her nose as well, as they were suddenly a bit too big for her head size. She drowned in the spare fabric of her clothes. Her bra sagged, now empty in her shirt, where her fairly well endowed chest once was supported.
Several onlookers stopped to observe her in confusion. Their perplexed expressions built up her own bafflement and then embarrassment. She hastily sat up, or tried to as she underestimated how far she had to reach. Her arms were a lot shorter than she remembered a second ago. And lighter. The flap of fat on her upper arms were all gone and when she yanked the sleeves up, the dark arm hair was gone, replaced by wispy blonde peach fuzz. She eyed herself, her hands, the lack of wrinkles and even some of her scars - specifically the long healed self inflicted ones she gave herself in her teens. Not anything angsty of course, she’d been a cocky and edgy teen who wanted permanent stripes and her parents wouldn’t let her get a tattoo at fifteen (rightfully so). She got half way through the second stripe when she gave up, thus resulting in the scars.
“What the hell?” she slapped her hands over her mouth, aghast at the squeak to her voice. “Oh no,” she groaned behind her fingers and then looked up at the approach of footsteps.
It was then she took in her surroundings. It looked like she was underground somewhere. A long hallway with people coming out of large fireplaces in bursts of green flames and red British styled phone booths dropping in and going up, as if by magic. She noticed the moving ceiling. Her jaw went slack in awe.
“Poppet, you lost? Where’s your mum?” A man in a gray suit uniform asked. He wore a short cloak around his shoulders and a pointed grey hat.
“What…” she floundered. “Lost?” She nodded. Oh yes, she was very much lost. “I was just in the toilet, and then I was…” she looked behind her at the fireplace where more people were suddenly popping into existence with licks of green flames. Her eyes widened.
“Oh dear, did you get separated from your parents in the entrance?”
“No. I was by myself,” she explained, unsure what was happening. This all seemed familiar but like a far off dream or memory.
“That can’t be right. You should be accompanied by your parents. You shouldn’t go out wandering alone. Which department do they work in?”
“Department? No no I…my parents don’t work here!” she stuttered. She felt a touch of anxiety the more she heard her voice and felt the inevitable burn of tears in her eyes as panic bubbled in her throat.
“Hey now, no need to cry, luv. Come on, let’s get your things and I’ll take you to the office and we’ll get you sorted.” The man stooped down to lay his hand on her shoulder, attempting to be reassuring.
It didn’t help and tears burst as she panted from a panic attack. The man looked around nervously and a passerby swooped down to help. “There there, sweetums. Everything will be all right.” She was a light haired woman in a smart skirt and shirt with a mauve cloak and the same style of pointed hat. The girl cried into her arms and she brushed her head.
“Madam Hopkirk!” The man in the uniform sent a relieved look her way. “Thank you, I’m awful with children.”
Children?! The word sent her further into hysterics.
Madam Hopkirk responded with warmth and patience. “It’s alright. Just calm down. Can you tell me your name, luv?”
“Pe-Penny.”
“Now then Penny, dry your tears. Let’s get you some nice tea. Warm you up.” Hopkirk made eye contact with the uniformed man and he went around picking up the dropped items.
Hopkirk led Penny to the elevator and then to an office. Penny had been too busy drying her eyes at first to notice the elevator movement but when they stopped she gasped as paper planes flew all on their own in impossible ways. Then she noticed exactly how much shorter she was compared to Hopkirk.
When they entered the office, Penny read the plaque as they passed under it. “Improper Use of Magic”.
She was directed to sit at a visitor’s seat opposite the assistant’s desk, where a plaque named her as Mafalda Hopkirk. Her bag was set down, and the wizard in the uniform placed a long sleek black stick with a tapered end beside it. On one end, what would be the handle, was the insignia of a particular fruit with a bite out of it and hanging from a little notched hole in the handle hung a little metal charm of a twenty sided dice.
Penny stared at the stick, having never seen it before. Yet it had her phone charm and her phone’s brand logo on it. That bred all sorts of questions.
“Now then, Penny, why don’t we start with what happened?” A cup of tea floated and set in front of her all on its own.
Penny’s head snapped up to Hopkirk’s, dazed by everything.
“Where am I?”
Hopkirk sighed, but answered. “You’re in the ministry. In the office of..“
“…improper use of magic.” Penny muttered along, but she couldn’t believe it. There was no way. She must be having a stroke. But if she wasn’t, how else could she explain how her clothes were suddenly sagging, and the strange things around her.
“I…” Penny went to explain the chain of events but she was cut off by a high pitched grating voice.
“Ahem. Mafalda, what is that?”
Hopkirk quickly jumped to step in front of the chair as though to hide Penny. Penny, however, spun to catch the plump woman that looked like someone vomited pepto bismal all over her.
“Just a lost child, Madam Umbridge.”
Umbridge?! Penny gulped, and turned back around, afraid her recognition of the name would cause trouble.
“Then why is it here? Shouldn’t the security witches be taking care of it?” Umbridge’s voice rose higher pitched and conveyed disgust.
“I thought I’d step in. She looked ready to panic.”
Umbridge released an annoyed sound. “Mafalda. My office, now.” She disappeared with the quick clip of heels.
Mafalda sighed. “I’ll be right back, Penny. Drink your tea.”
She was granted the solitude and space of Mafalda’s desk and cubicle. First, she pinched herself several times. When that didn’t work, she banged her hand against the chair - wincing as it left a red bruising mark. She even tried biting her finger. But nothing woke her from this dream. She stopped when she drew blood and had to suck on her thumb to stop the bleeding. Surprisingly, it calmed the growing panic a little.
There were other desks lined up and arranged into a square like pattern. Cubicles. Penny leaned forward into the aisle to look at the other workers. The scenery would have been mundane, if not for the floating paper airplanes, pamphlets, and workers chatting discreetly while stirring their tea with magic.
Magic. Magic. Magic!
Her vision became unfocused as the panic set in. She turned her attention back to Mafalda’s desk, looking for anything to focus on, to drown out the office chatter, and give herself the space to calm down and think. Any second now Mafalda would return to ask what happened and who her parents were.
Tick, tick, tick. Penny zeroed her gaze on a clock. Its sound was monotonous. The structure of it was antique, old and wooden with three clock hands. One for the hour, one for the minute, and one for the seconds. Along the circle rim of the timepiece were three arrows, indicating the day, month, and year.
Penny held her breath. That sparked an idea.
What people thought she was, was a child. How she was a child again, she didn’t know and would have to eventually find out. If she was where she thought she was and when she thought she was, perhaps she could get help by who people think she is?
She just needed to pick the right person.
Preferably someone she could trust. Not Albus.
…who wouldn’t read her mind. Definitely not Severus.
…was in their right mind and sane. That’s a no on Moody.
…not politically aligned or connected to the ministry. Sorry Kingsley.
…with no existing blood family to think of. Goodbye the Tonks and Weasleys.
Penny frowned. That left one person. A person who couldn’t really contest her lie. Plus she was a child, or looked like one, that would break the hearts of everyone who saw her. Especially if she played it up. Penny eyed her reflection on the clock’s glass covering and smiled.
By the time Mafalda returned, looking perfectly admonished and a little pale, Penny had it all figured out. Well except one thing, her plan would fail if they had some magical equivalent of a paternity test. And if they did…
Worst case scenario, she ends up in an orphanage.
But best case scenario, she’d end up an heiress.
“Sorry about that dear.” Mafalda sagged into her seat.
“S’kay.” Penny muttered, removing her thumb from her mouth. The cut on her finger alarmed Mafalda who grasped her hand.
“What happened here?”
Penny didn’t answer, not immediately.
“I was bad.”
“Bad? What do you…” Mafalda’s asked and her eyes widened before her brows came down angry as she saw the red bruising mark on her hand. She then looked over her clothes with worry.
“Dear…who’re your parents?”
“Mum’s dead.” Penny muttered softly and looked down. Eyes wide with her bottom lip quivering. Mafalda melted and then reached out to give her a pat.
“And your father?”
Here Penny milked it. She sucked in a breath sharply and sniffed. “M-Mum…Mum said he couldn’t be with us.”
“Is he, like your mum?”
“No…I-I… Mum said he never wanted to see me. And if he did, he couldn’t because he had a-a— different family.” Penny nearly slipped and said another family. That was too close to home, and could be wrong. But different, different was closer to the truth.
Mafalda’s frown deepened and her voice softened. “Penny, who do you live with?”
“Mu-Mug-Muggles.” Penny curled in, clutching her stomach and faked a sob. It was dry and she shook her torso but it was enough.
Mafalda’s gaze turned determined. “Are they the ones who…” she pointed at her hand and Penny nodded and sobbed.
“Don’t make me go back.” Penny whispered, voice warbling just right.
“Don’t cry. You will not be going back to them. Not if I can help it.” Mafalda soothed while stroking Penny’s back. Penny almost felt bad for taking advantage but she kept it up. “Do you know your father’s name? Perhaps I can reach him by floo?”
Penny shook her head, pulled her legs onto the chair, and hugged her knees. “You can’t.”
“Oh, love. I’m sure I can, I just need his name.”
“No you can’t!” Penny insisted.
“Someone needs to take you. And I’m not letting those horrible muggles lay another hand on you.”
Penny hesitated, deliberating then remained quiet.
Mafalda sighed. “Penny…if you won’t tell me that, then why did you come here? To the Ministry?”
Penny exhaled like she was relieved and tentatively spoke. “Mum said…if there was ever any problem, to find dad’s friend. But…I don’t know how. The muggles won’t give me any money, and I don’t have an owl. Mum got me a wand-“ Penny assumed that was a wand amongst her items. It sure looked like one. “But I can’t use magic yet. So…”
“So you came to the Ministry?”
“She said I should if things went bad.” Penny cradled her hand.
“Smart woman.” Mafalda muttered. “Well, Penny in order to find him, we’re going to need your father’s name. To make sure it’s the right one. Do you understand?”
Penny stilled, horror coming over her face and she quivered her bottom lip but nodded. “Okay”
“In the best case scenario, your father will come out here to take you.”
“He won’t…he can’t.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because…” Penny fiddled with her sleeves and pouted sadly with a deep sigh. “Because he’s in Azkaban.”
Mafalda stilled at the mention of the wizard prison, but Penny could see her face in the clock’s reflection. Fear and apprehension.
“Azkaban?” Mafalda asked for clarification, paling when Penny gave it. “Wha-what is his name?”
Penny squirmed uncomfortably, or tried to make it seem that way. “I…I won’t have to live in Azkaban if I say, will I?”
“No! No no no. We would never put a child in that dreadful place.”
“Okay…” Penny conceded, bit her lip and told her.
Remus Lupin opened the door to the rundown cottage he’d been calling home for the last few years. It had holes in the walls, leaky pipes, cracked foundation, broken windows, and furnished with worn graying furniture. All of these things could easily be fixed with magic, but the appearance kept the muggles in the area away. Which is what he wanted. Plus magic could only fix it for so long and he’d have to recast the spells over and over, when it was just easier to let it be.
He stopped inside the threshold and eyed the layer of dust on everything. He fished his wand out of his jacket and flicked it in the air. The spell in his mind commanded the layer to rise from every surface and collect into a glass container that he immediately covered.
Once done the air felt less stagnant as a warm spring breeze slipped through the cracks and holes. He stepped back outside to grab his bag of tools and the basket of groceries before trudging toward the small kitchen. He deposited his tool bag on a table and flicked his wand. The stove filled itself with logs that were stacked next to it. The fire roared to life. Remus filled his kettle and set it to boil as he put the rest of his groceries away. Most of it was discounted or salvaged products he nicked from the box store on his way back from his last job. Others were things he bought fresh from the Mum and Pop’s in town. Things like bread, fruits, and meats.
He supplemented the rest with things he picked up on his monthly run in the woods. Any small animal that happened to cross the wolf’s path while transformed would not be put to waste, assuming the wolf didn’t consume it all. Or he’d catch a fish from a stream or pond while his senses were still attuned, and then pick wild berries and vegetables on his way back. Anything to save a few quid.
The kettle whistled. It lifted off the stove and poured itself into the prepared cup Remus had set out. Remus ignored the magical happenings in favour of opening a box of his favorite brand of toast he had procured from beside some chav’s car. He sniffed a sleeve of them and nodded with a smile, setting them out on his plate. He went to retrieve the sole jar of jam he had and frowned as it was almost empty. He was frugal with spreading it on the biscuits, but he was used to doing that. It added a fresh moist sweetness to them.
Finally he set it all on the table beside the stack of letters, bills, and a few issues of the daily prophet he managed to snatch from the Leaky’s trash.
He enjoyed his cup while catching up on Wizarding Britain. It wasn’t a world he participated in often, due to the prejudice against people with his condition and there were few people he had left from that world anyway. Oh sure there was his father, who he still saw every few months. But he’d rather not taint his twilight years with the public scorn of having a werewolf son.
Once done with his tea, he eyed the stack of letters - many with muggle postage and others with none, only the faint smell of the stratosphere and owl droppings. He pulled a pair of glasses from their case in his vest pocket and settled in to open each one. He sorted the muggle ones into piles of bills and social assistance. Then the owls. There were letters from old not-quite mates who were trying to sell him things. He tossed those aside. One that made him pause. It smelled like a warm home. Faint wisps of dark coily hair from where it got caught sprinkled the seal while being hastily tied away. His fingers lingered over the signature of the return address. Meadows. He sighed.
“Not now…” he rubbed the bridge of his nose and set the letter aside, leaving the last one.
The official ministry insignia filled his stomach with dread and dropped stones as quickly as he dropped the letter. He stood up and gaped at it, wondering what could the Ministry of Magic want with him. A lick of paranoia swept up his neck. Could it be they found out about one of his jobs? But then he caught which department it was from and frowned.
“Office for Magical Youth Placement?” He muttered. He’d never heard of that department before. Tentatively, he checked if the paper was cursed or hexed. Finding nothing except the usual protections to ensure only the named person can open the letter, he lowered his wand. He slid one finger under the seal and opened it. His eyes widened at the words before him.
“Dear Mister Remus J. Lupin,
You have been summoned on behalf of the Office for Magical Youth Placement. You were named guardian to 1 underaged magical child. Before status can be finalized and ministry assistance provided to support the child’s needs, we require validating the safety of their placement.
Please arrive on February 22nd at 9 am to courtroom…”
Remus dropped the letter. Him? Guardian? Who in their right mind would name him guardian of a child? Much less who did he know that had a child that would need guardianship over?
He gasped as his stomach twisted. “Harry?”
Lily and James’s son? No, he should be at Lily’s sisters’ house! Dumbledore assured him that was the best place for Harry. It would be safest.
Unless…
Unless something happened to Lily’s sister?
“What was her name?” Remus muttered. Blast he could never remember. He could only recall that Lily and her sister had a falling out and then they never spoke again. The thought pained him, that Lily’s sister never even got to see her one last time. What tragedy had befallen her that now Harry needed a new guardian?
His gaze tracked over the letter from Mrs. Meadows and frowned. The war had left so many orphans and childless mothers behind. No parent should have to bury their child. But no child should lose their parents before knowing them truly.
Still, if Lily’s sister had indeed perished and there really was no one else…he’d do it.
Remus looked around at the state of disrepair of the cottage. Right…he’d have to make this place livable for a child. And more importantly…safe. Especially from himself.
The court date was near and hectic, to say the least. He had a few small jobs he had to do in the nearest city. But it was nothing too difficult. He was the village’s on-call plumber and handyman, and was paid under the table because he wasn’t properly hired through a company, so insurance usually didn’t cover when he messed up. Though he never messed up. Oh sure he had a license, but no place would hire him if he couldn’t explain why he needed three days off every month. So he took what jobs the village repairmen wouldn’t or couldn’t do. Usually jobs over the weekends or on holidays, or emergency jobs. It didn’t matter to him. Most of the time it was easy to fix. He showed up with his tools, pretended to slip under to examine and when the muggles stepped away to get him water or a towel, he’d use his wand to fix it. It never fixed the underlying issues but it cleared or patched up any issues until one of the regulars could handle it.
It might seem like he was taking advantage but given no place in wizarding Britain would hire him, he’d just have to use his talents on muggle work. Plus it was a good paycheck even if it wasn’t much; it was enough. Add in the social assistance he got, he covered his monthly expenses, if just barely.
But if he were to be the guardian for Harry, that would have to change. He’d need to take on more jobs. Maybe the next town over needed help. It’d be something he’d have to explore. Or maybe even look into doing electrical work. He wasn’t sure if he could use his magic to fix that.
For now he had to dust off his best suit for court, and he did the best he could in patching up the cottage. The spare room he had was small. He’d used it as storage. There were mountains of books he’d been gifted and salvaged from Godric’s Hollow. He also had what wasn’t immediately sold or put into the Potter vault. Little tokens of memorabilia, James and Lily’s clothes, all of Harry’s old toys, books, worn quidditch equipment. He sold a few of the items for some coin but there were some things he couldn’t sell. He went hungry a few days of the month for that.
Worth it in his mind. Especially now that he’d get the chance to give it to little Harry. Well not so little. The boy should be about Hogwarts age.
Fuck…Hogwarts age! Remus shifted gears and dug through his things for all his old school books. He set them apart, along with his old school robes. They’d need a wash for certain, along with all the bed sheets he had.
The day before court, Remus stocked up the fridge. Using most of his last paycheck to be sure he was full up. And he got himself a haircut. He’d been letting his hair and beard grow long the last few years. Living alone with seldom contact with others left his grooming habits a bit on the wild side. Or rather on the wolfish side.
That was another thing he prepped which made the lead up to the court day busy. He fortified the walls, fixed every hole, and transfigured the door into something more solid. It needed to withstand the claws of a werewolf in case he got into the cottage while Harry was here. If it couldn’t he’ll have to apparate to Hogsmeade, stay in the shrieking shack like he used to.
Bathed, with neatly trimmed hair and mustache, he wore his least dusty suit, locked up the cottage, and off he apparated to London.
He stepped out of the red phone booth. He looked around at everyone rushing in for the morning. The ministry was as busy as ever. He signed himself in, then headed straight for the lower levels. He had his summons with him and his visitors badge. Remus hastily flattened his hair, unsure with the length he’d cut it too. Maybe he should go shorter. The stray ends of hairs by his ears was distracting.
The elevator dinged and he walked. The courtroom he was going to was not the grand one but a smaller one meant for mediation. There were others in that corridor. There were a few couples looking at each other disgruntled. Divorce cases in the Wizarding community was especially troublesome if things weren’t settled amicably. Remus bypassed them and found the room, knocking on the door before stepping in when called.
The room was simple with a long table. A judge would preside at one end and the representatives or parties on either side. He spied the stuffy Ministry worker assigned to the case who smiled at him.
Lupin’s smile brightened as he spied a small child beside her. Their messy wild dark hair hung over oversized glasses that were pushed up the nose of a child. Remus walked around to his side of the table, not taking his eyes off them.
His steps slowed as he watched them bury their head in a book. His lips twitched seeing the title of a school book for charms. Lily had always been excellent at charms.
But no sooner than he smiled did his lips drop when the child peered up at him through a set of curly bangs. Where he expected green eyes, were dark brown. Where he expected the triangular shaped jaw, it was round. Where he expected tufted jet black hair, was a mess of curly dark brown locks. Where he expected Harry, was….was he didn’t know.
His brows furrowed. “You’re not…Harry,” he whispered softly.
The child’s expectant and excited look dropped, replaced with a wince and solemn gaze.
Remus didn’t know them, and yet he still felt guilty at their clear disappointment in his words. He bit his tongue.
Clearly they were excited to meet him but he had no idea who they were. Still, he schooled his expression and looked at the woman beside the kid.
“Mr. Lupin?” She held her hand out.
“Yes, and you are?”
“Janice Welwishe, I’m the foster who's been looking after Penny.”
“Penny?” Remus frowned. He definitely didn’t know anyone with a child named Penny.
Margaret gestured to the girl, who stepped forward.
Remus squatted just enough so the kid didn’t have to crane their neck so far back.
“Hello there, Penny.” He asked.
“Hello.” Was their simple response while looking down.
“Is your name short for Penelope?” He kept his tone light, soft, and inviting. This brought their gaze up.
“Yes. You’re Remus Lupin.”
Remus quirked a brow. They stated it like fact.
“Right?” Penny added with a note of uncertainty.
“Correct.” Remus smiled. He was going to ask another question but a presiding magistrate of the Wizengamot entered. Their robes billowed around them as their heels clicked against the floor.
“Let’s make this quick.” The magistrate began as they took their place. A trail of folders floated after them. They grabbed one and opened it, proceeding to address the room. “All sit.” They waited until everyone sat.
Remus took his spot opposite the foster and the child, confused about who the girl was and was about to ask for an explanation but the magistrate ignored him as they paged through their folders.
“The ministry recognizes the ward’s deceased mother’s will naming next of kin was delivered. The father’s documentation lists one being as legal proxy. As per law, the ward’s legal guardianship will pass to one Remus J Lupin.”
Remus did a double take. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt.” Remus piped up.
“Hold.” The officiant held a hand up.
“The guardianship will pass to one Remus J Lupin upon review of status of necessary qualifications to ensure the safe care of the ward. Can you confirm you have a place of residence and source of income?”
“I…well yes. But I don’t-”
“Yes or no, Mister Lupin.”
“Yes.”
Remus bit his tongue to wait his turn.
“Can you confirm the residence is magical and contains the required Muggle deterrents or a reasonable distance from Muggle settlements?”
“I don’t see what that has-”
“Can you confirm? Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“Can you confirm that if the ward is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, they will attend for the required five years or an equivalent tutorship, apprenticeship, or another wizarding academy?”
Remus blinked wildly at the question and then looked at the kid across the table from him. “Well yes, who wouldn’t-“
“Let the record show Wizard Remus J Lupin has agreed to the base requirements to assume guardianship.” The magistrate flicked their wand over the file before him, stamping it and closing the file. “Congratulations, Mister Lupin you have been granted guardianship and the minimum disbursement from the Ministry to assist in the burden and care of-“
“Just wait a moment!” Remus stood up.
The officiant looked up cross and glowered. “Mister Lupin-”
“Listen here. I don’t even know who this child is. Or who named me their guardian. You say it was in the mother’s will but who is the mother? What about the father?! Why aren’t they here to take responsibility?”
The magistrate looked at the temporary guardian and the child then went back to Remus. They sighed heavily, opened the file again and then read out. “The ward’s name is Penelope-”
“Yes I know that.” Remus interrupted but at the glare he received he swallowed.
“Penelope Black.”
“Black?!” Remus gasped, eyes wide. He once again looked at the child. From their dark curls and dark gaze…it couldn’t be. Could it?
“Child of witch Dayanara Vidal, deceased, and wizard Sirius Black. Now would you not agree that as Mister Sirius Black is currently incarcerated in Azkaban it would make it difficult for him to assume responsibility?”
“I…yes it would.” Remus nodded.
“I’m glad you’ve seen sense. Now place your mark here and Miss Welwishe will go over the schedule for quarterly check-ins and the disbursement of funds, extracted from the Black vault.“
Mutely, Remus signed the document after a quick look through. He peered at the child again who had remained silent throughout the whole proceeding.
Sirius had a child? No… no … no. This was insane. He always said he would never continue the Black name if he could.
But then again…how well had he really known Sirius? Sirius betrayed James and Lily when he joined Voldemort, and then killed Peter and all those muggles. Leaving Remus to come back from his mission alone to grieve. Perhaps while he was away was when it happened?
He closed his eyes, angry at believing - hoping he was coming here to take Harry. Instead he was collecting Sirius’s bastard, forced to take care of her. Sirius had known he didn’t particularly like young children. He tolerated them. But he supposed that was the point. One last fuck you from Sirius? As if betraying Lily and James and killing Peter wasn’t enough.
Hell, what was he going to do? He can’t unsee Sirius in her features now.
He grabbed the documents and the child’s singular bag. He said nothing yet the child followed after him. He could hear them panting and struggling to keep up with him. So he halted, angry not at them but at Sirius, at the ministry, and at himself. The full moon was coming in a few days and while he was currently no danger, he was quicker to anger. So he tried not to linger on it.
He looked down to Penelope who was catching her breath. “Are you hungry?”
Penny nodded.
Good. He needed a pint.