The Unspeakable

AlwaysPadfoot

Job Prompt: Reporter for the Daily Prophet (note: your character doesn't have to have this job but if you use this prompt you have to include it in the story.)

Roll Prompt: Adopt a pet.

Action: Someone must slam a door, Emotion: Devastated, Word: Forever, Dialogue: 'Nice and easy does it', Object: A brooch, Quote: 'Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future' - Oscar Wilde

Chapter 1

A Fully-Trained Badass

"You have to be kidding me?" I groaned, "You realise who works for the Prophet right?"

"You were told on completion of your training Black, you could be placed anywhere," Rufus Scrimgeour responded gruffly, "So grow some balls, or leave, maybe adopt a pet, your choice."

I scowled, "I'm not happy about this."

I stood up abruptly taking the file out of his hand, "Good choice, Black."

Upon leaving Scrimgeour's office, I flicked through the file I'd been given that outlined my new post as I headed back to the office I shared to two other Unspeakables. Both of them were still in training so I had the office to myself, glad that I'd passed training earlier than most.

The training itself had been a torturous almost two year process, from the moment I stepped out of Hogwarts in June 1978 to the moment I completed my training one month ago. In that time I was taught pretty much everything in both magical and muggle backgrounds, including: how to throw off the imperius curse, hand to hand combat and how to use a Muggle gun. It had been an exhausting, what felt like never-ending period of my life that I never wished to repeat. On top of all that no one was allowed to know that I was becoming an Unspeakable and that was the hardest bit. Of course the experience had taught me a few things, like how every saint has a past and every sinner has a future. Some of those things I'm not ever going to repeat to anyone, because I personally reckon it would break their hearts. Either that or they'd laugh in my face, hard.

I sat down at my desk with my file and today's Prophet. That headline was WAR RAGES ON and it was followed by a lengthy piece talking about the most recent Death Eater attacks on Hogsmeade. Frankly I was just glad the front page wasn't written by Rita Skeeter; I hated that women and I was now unfortunate enough to be assigned as the new Daily Prophet Sport Reporter. Rita spread rumours and passed on gossip idly, and it wasn't just now; she'd done so in Hogwarts too. Okay, so I admit if I hadn't have slept with her and then ignored her afterwards she probably wouldn't have spread the rumour about my -

Probably not the topic of conversation to get onto really.

Checking my watch, I realised I had to be at the Prophets Head Office in about five minutes. I swore and chucked the file in my desk, bolting through the door and slamming it behind me. Of course, nobody was considering a quick escape when they made it so you couldn't apparate from within the Department of Mysteries. I snuck through the concealed entrance, which worked a little like the barrier at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, nobody saw anyone anywhere near the wall that lead to the DoM. Of course, everyone knew that the DoM and Unspeakables existed, but we had what the DoM called faces. Those were the people that everyone knew were Unspeakables but they didn't know much at all. Unspeakables like me were big secrets, nobody knew we existed because we had other jobs, covers.

I apparated straight to the Prophet Office as soon as I was out of the DoM, only to find that the editor was going to be late and that I was going to be waiting around. I found a comfy chair in the reception area and hung my grey suit jacket on the back of it. I was glad I'd decided against wearing a tie, because the reception was stiflingly warm despite all the windows being open. I sat quietly, elbows leaning on my knees as I sat forward.

"Sirius," a voice said; it was James' voice. I rolled my eyes and took my two-way mirror from my trouser pocket.

"James Potter," I grinned, "The prodigal son returns, I feel like I haven't spoken to you in ages mate."

"Well yeah, but," he stopped, "You're looking smart."

I smirked, "Got bored in the apartment on my own, I decided to get a job. Hold on a second, don't change the subject, are you wearing an Auror brooch?"

"You're a dick, you know that, it is not a brooch," James scowled in the friendliest way he could, "They graduated me from Auror training this morning."

"Ah, so you're a fully-trained bad ass now."

"Sirius Black."

Another voice interrupted me and I looked up to see Joshua Abbott, the Prophet's editor standing by the desk across the reception.

"See you later James," I said, flipping the mirror shut and pocketing it before I crossed the room, "Sorry that was my friend, he's over-excitable sometimes."

I held my hand out to shake his and he took it without protest, "It's nice to have you on the team Black. Let's have a quick chat, shall we?"

The quick chat turned into half an hour of tea and endless banter about Quidditch teams. Joshua being a Cannons fan and me being a Puddlemere fan really left no competition since Puddlemere were clearly the superior team by a long way. The chat probably would have gone on forever if Joshua's receptionist hadn't interrupted us by popping her head around the door.

"Rita Skeeter wants to talk to you," she said.

"Brilliant," he rolled his eyes. Joshua raised his hand and gestured for her to send Rita in.

"Do you want me to leave?" I asked, hoping to escape before Rita could even register my presence in her dull, little brain.

"No, this will only be a few seconds," he said.

Great. I slid down in my chair a little bit as the door behind me burst open.

"Joshua," Rita shrieked, "How are you this morning?"

"I'm fine Rita, there was something you wanted to talk about?" Joshua responded.

"Yes, yes, well, it's about the Sunday even-" she stopped, "Sirius Black."

My heart plummeted; of course she was going to see me. My luck was just getting better and better today, first Scrimgeour being an arse and now Rita Skeeter. It's only half ten in the fucking morning. I didn't even need to say that it could only get worse form here because it would.

"Hey, Rita," I answered awkwardly, "It's been a while."

She lowered her jewelled glasses down her nose and looked over them at me, blowing a blonde curl out of her face as she did. She seemed shocked, but her voice was smooth, her tone as false as any persons could ever be, "It certainly has, are you here for the Sport job?"

"Actually Rita, Mr Black already has the job," Joshua cut in, sealing my fate; "I'd like you to take him on your assignment today."

I stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. Rita and me? Work together? I was right; this day could get a hell of a lot worse, exactly like that.

"Sure," Rita responded, "Follow me Black."

She turned on her heel, her bright red shoes clacking against the hard floor of the office and I reluctantly got to my feet. I'm going to kill Scrimgeour for this. Of all the things he could have given me, I get Skeeter.

"You look devastated Black," Joshua grinned, and I smiled weakly in return, "Nice and easy does it with that one, she bites."

I snorted with laughter, shaking Joshua's hand once more, "I know."