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Chapter Text

Harry Potter knew he was not a normal boy. The denizens of Number Four Privet Drive tried very hard to keep up appearances stating otherwise, but Harry Potter was aware that not only was he not normal, but neither was the family he resided with. 

Vernon Dursley was the largest man Harry had seen yet, and his temper fit him accordingly. His smile never sat on his face right. Sometimes, he looked as if his cheeks were ready to burst when talking to people like the normal Mr. Huntsman from Number Seven. Vernon doted upon his wife and child, and looked at Harry with an expression of nothing short of disgust. Harry thought he sort of resembled a rat sometimes, especially when his nose would start twitching at any signs of “ freakishness.”  

Petunia Dursley was also rather strange, in Harry’s opinion, for she sometimes seemed to resemble a giraffe more than a human. When she would get angry, or snap and chirp at Harry to do his chores, he noted that her movements were akin to a ruffled bird perhaps recovering from injury. Harry would describe her more as long than tall, especially once he started dodging the occasional smack or frying pan from his Aunt Petunia and became quite familiar with her reach.

His cousin Dudley: a round, portly boy with atrocious table manners and an even worse personality. Dudley had two bedrooms, whilst Harry was “graciously” given the luxury of the dark cupboard under the stairs. Neither boys seemed to enjoy each other’s presence at all, and other than the playground bullying and snide remarks here and there, they left each other alone. Harry thought Dudley was rather insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Dudley didn’t think much at all. 

All in all, it was not a pleasant ride for the not normal Harry Potter staying with his “very normal” relatives. He learned in the power of silence, and holding his tongue. He quickly understood the paradigm for normal human interaction with his family, and kept it at that. An occasional snarky comment here and there wouldn’t get him sent to the cupboard, but getting higher marks than Dudley or complaining about anything would generally result in unsavory conditions for Harry. He snatched extra snacks during school, and made use of the public library across the street from their neighborhood (for Dudley would never be caught in a library) and that was that. He wasn’t happy by any means, but he learned to live with what he had. 

It was no extraordinary way to live, especially for a young boy, and it meant that he mostly remained quiet and in the shadows. When he wasn’t tending to the baskets of Petunia’s petunias, or serving up finer eggs for breakfast than the local pub, Harry spent most of his time reading, thinking, and sleeping. In spite of his hurdles, though, Mr. Harry Potter, of the Cupboard under the Stairs at Number Four Privet Drive, was rather tolerant of his current settings. 

It was one remarkable night, when he was locked in his cupboard without dinner for getting higher marks than Dudley in their maths class, when the power went out on Privet Drive. There was a storm due that evening and it was stronger than expected, knocking out poles carrying electricity and trees alike. A tree had been struck straight down the middle, and fallen right on the power lines outside. Petunia and Dudley shrieked from up the stairs, and Vernon loudly cursed the shoddy workmanship of the area’s utility poles. 

Meanwhile, Harry Potter was sitting in the pitch black dark, hungry and—though loath to admit it—he was scared . Then, in the inky blackness surrounding him, his hands started to tingle and a faint light began to emit from the tips of his fingers. 

He closed his eyes, unable to believe what he was seeing, and he heard the faint whispers of a voice saying something in his head. Vaguely, he could still visualize the light from his hands while trying to decipher what he was hearing. A warmth started to build inside of him, and he could feel things twisting inside of him and faintly around him and—he opened his eyes, the word spilling out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying.

“ Lumos . ”  

And then not only was there a floating orb of warm light in Harry’s hands, there was a massive grin on his face. The voice didn’t say anything else, but those things he felt when he said the words weren’t gone. In fact, he didn’t think they were ever missing in the first place, but he just never noticed that they were there. Tiny rosy pink orbs danced right on his palms, right from where the ball erupted from. 

This. Was. Wicked . 

— 

Somewhere out there, a pulse of magic rippled throughout the isles of Great Britain, unbeknownst to many, but not unknown to a tawny-haired werewolf cooking dinner in his cottage, and not to the cat Animagus prowling the dimly lit hallways of a an ancient sleeping castle. 

The werewolf’s nose twitched, suddenly smelling a scent that he thought was long sent away. The cat sneezed, suddenly getting the feeling she was forgetting something to do. 

Magic thrummed. It was happening. 

Hogwarts slept on. Her time would come. 

Chapter Text

Harry Potter loved his freaky magic.

That’s what it had to be, of course. All the nifty little tricks he could do. The occasional word or whisper in his head leading him in the right direction. The bits and pieces of webs, waves, and colors he would see around himself when he did the spells he knew. 

That wasn’t normal. There was no way Aunt Petunia would burn the bacon as often as she did if she had magic, after all. The books he loved to read at the library were almost always about magic—and all different kinds, too—and he was absolutely sure that Gandalf the Great would never have burned his bacon. Unless it were to be that way because that was how he liked it, but Harry wasn’t quite sure Gandalf would sit around and eat burnt food if he had enough magic to fix it. 

So. Harry Potter was not a normal boy, for he had magic—and Magic was his best friend. (Not that he was aware of this of course, but that would come later down the line.) 

He loved using magic, and he loved reading about magic, and he loved learning about magic. He quickly came to realize there weren’t a lot of magic users around him. He began to associate waves of color with magic, and so far he was the only one he had encountered to emit those waves. Only human , that was, but he didn’t have a way to communicate with owls. In most of his books about magic, he read about magicians and their mentors. It was only because of this, that he came to the next logical conclusion. He was obviously a magician, so now he needed a mentor. But where would he find one? 

It was a few months after that, months where Harry continued to keep his head down in classes and Privet Drive, when Harry Potter would find an answer to that question. A class field trip to the London Zoo would be Harry’s first time outside Surrey. Without a proper reason to say no, for Harry was a rather average student and the Dursleys had a rather neutral stance towards him, it was agreed upon that both Dudley and Harry would be going on the annual class trip. 

The Dursleys preferred to leave him with Mrs. Figg when they went away, which was Harry’s first introduction into magical animals. He noticed some of the more scrunched-up looking cats had heads that were occasionally surrounded by faint yellow orbs he began to associate with magic. He figured he wouldn’t tell Mrs. Figg, for she was never surrounded by any orbs, and it wasn’t like she realized her uglier cats were magical anyway. But because of them he knew there were magical creatures in this world, and he was excited to see if maybe he could see one at the zoo. 

At the zoo—due to children grouping up together with their friends and paired chaperones, and Dudley’s eagerness to leave Harry out of anything interesting—Harry was fortunate to find himself as a straggler, and was picked up by a group of classmates he was on neutral terms with. With them, he “oohed” and “ahhed” at all the right animals, with a particular fancy towards the majestic lion and his mate, as well as the penguins and monkey exhibit. It was at the reptile exhibit where Harry suddenly picked up on a stray web of magic. 

Tinged with bits of brown and gold strands, it stood out quite viciously to Harry, even through the throngs of people at the zoo. He followed the faint lines, abandoning his classmates, and went deeper into the reptile exhibit. Eventually the web led him, to his slight disappointment, to a weary and scruffy man with bags under his eyes and the vague smell of wet dog. A few faint scars decorated his face, giving him a slight rugged war-torn veteran look, Harry thought. If a veteran liked to curl up with a hot tea and read books on lizards for fun, that is. 

The stranger stood taller than most (though everyone was tall to Harry right now—the Dursleys liked to withhold dinner a bit too often for his liking), even with the slight slouch to his posture. He wore a brown sweater with holes worn into the sleeve to reveal his thumbs. His less brown trousers had patches on the knees, and his sneakers—thankfully black with a white trim—were scuffed, and most definitely a few years old. Harry refrained from making a quick judgment that was eerily reminiscent of Aunt Petunia’s, for he noticed how comfortable the man seemed to be. 

The most striking thing about this man, however, was the brown and gold web of moving color that surrounded him. He stood in stark contrast to the other people around him, and while his magic wasn’t loud, it was vibrant. Harry looked closer, squinting through his round-rimmed glasses, beginning to get lost in the tendrils of rich cocoas and striking golds and—was that a bit of silver peeking through? 

He suddenly turned, almost looking for Harry, but the wide-eyed reaction upon making eye contact was the last thing he expected. Harry was conflicted. He knew well enough about avoiding creepy old strangers shambling towards him and offering treats—but this man. He had the webs. He was magic. And he must have known Harry was magic too, otherwise he never would have reacted the way he did. 

Trust. 

Harry started walking. 

—-

Remus Lupin did not love his freaky werewolf side. 

He managed it.

This full moon was the most painful he’d had in three years. The lack of support from a certain dead stag, a betraying black dog, and an unfortunate dead rat was felt by Moony, and he spent most of the night prowling the cottage and its grounds, searching for lost smells. Most full moon nights, at least since 1981, had at least one small window of the wolf howling for his pack. It seemed that something was in the air last night, however, for Remus Lupin woke up that day in a serious amount of pain with a side of nostalgic yearning.  

Most people—barring fellow wolves and wolf enthusiasts—didn’t know this, but Moony was still with Remus even in his human form. It wasn’t always a voice speaking to him, but rather a slight pressure in his head and an astute awareness of everything . Sometimes the wolf would speak, but it was rarely on a good occasion. His senses might be a bit muddled as a human, but Remus still smelled what the wolf smelled. And today—of all days—the wolf caught a whiff of the long-lost scent of James Potter’s cologne. 

As Remus cooked breakfast, thoughts of James continued to linger on his mind. When he sat down to eat, it was the ghost of Lily who made sure he finished his eggs, and Moony was eager to devour the sausage. He drank his tea, stirring in fondness of Peter as he tossed in an extra cube of sugar, and scowled when his tea leaves clumped together to resemble a large black dog. 

Over seven years have passed since the death of the Potters, and Remus’ heart continued to hurt from the loss and betrayal. At first it was a challenge to live without his pack, but he and Moony took it day by day. But today, Remus Lupin had a job interview at the London Zoo for a tour guide position, and he hadn’t booked time in his calendar to grieve. It wasn’t that he quite wanted this job in particular, but being a werewolf made it hard to be picky and it wasn’t free to live. 

He pulled on his least threadbare sweater—an earth-toned argyle knit from Alice during seventh year’s Secret Santa—and a pair of washed-out trousers. It wasn’t the most professional look, but Remus was chronically ill, and he was never quite fashionable according to some. He was a “cozy sweater loving wolf-man and you would have to rip them from his cold dead claws to get him to stop,” after all. 

He didn’t know what was in the air today, but he seemed to be flooded with memories with every action made that day. It would be a rough one. 

Apparating to the London Zoo was a pleasant distraction. He always preferred the jarring displacement of Apparition compared to other methods, whilst James would fly anywhere if the option was available. Peter used to like the Floo. He was sensible like that. Ignoring the trailing thoughts of a flying motorbike, Remus continued into the London Zoo, determination fueling every step.  

It was to no one’s surprise when the hiring manager informed him that they would not be able to work with his conditional hours. Perhaps he wasn’t that determined after all. He didn’t fancy leading tours for children at the zoo anyway, so he considered the potential he was better off without this job in particular. He had been a little impulsive initially accepting the offer.  

He decided to turn the day into a trip to the zoo. He quite liked animals, considering he turned into one once a month. It was easy to develop a respect for all creatures, even if he would rather he was not one himself.

It was in the reptile exhibit that the wolf went ballistic. At first he thought Moony was just scared of snakes, remembering the April full moon in fifth year. Then, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck raised, and a familiar chill pulsed through his body. Magic. There was magic. There was magic that Moony recognized. And he wasn’t scared at all. He was eager . 

Moony’s never eager. 

Unless it’s time to eat. 

It wasn’t time to eat, and especially not the muggles. 

Or unless it’s time to play.

Remus thought the muggles wouldn’t want a threadbare, scarred, and somewhat ill looking man playing at all. 

Unless it’s someone we know.

That would be ridiculous. All the wizards he could recognize by scent were either dead, missing in action (presumed dead), or hidden by Dumbledore “for the greater good.” Remus always thought that the greatest good Harry would get would be being raised by the last member of his father’s friend group, and by one of the only people still living and sane enough to share stories of the Potters, but who was he to presume?

But Moony knew this smell. A smell he thought he wouldn’t smell again for years to come. 

And it was right behind him. 

Remus turned on his heel, and was immediately enraptured by the deep emerald eyes of Lily Evans. He took a second, and realized that these eyes were actually placed on the face of James Potter. Together, they created the perfect blend of the expressions he’d seen on them many times before—James’ slightly crooked grin when he came up with a particularly good prank, and Lily’s determined and steely gaze when she set her sights on something she wanted.

Moony was whining inside his head. 

Cub.

Remus let a small whine out himself, millions of questions running through his brain. The last time he asked, Dumbledore assured him of Harry’s health and happiness and stressed the importance of making sure Harry was kept hidden, even from friends, as a safety precaution. He then proceeded to ask Remus about his latest job venture, and they ended their conversation with a bittersweet memory in his second ye—

Oh Merlin, he was coming closer. 

Tracing back through the rest of his memories, it actually seemed that Dumbledore never had anything to say but the same thing about Harry. And right now, the scrawny boy wearing too-large cutoffs held up with a frayed leather belt and a depressing gray tee that looked as if it were meant for a boy twice his age did not look very happy. He looked rather sad, in Remus’ honest opinion, but he wasn’t to voice that to Harry. Faintly, he could feel the utter outrage from Lily and James to see Harry in this condition. He hoped they wouldn’t hate him too much for the mental comparison of Harry’s oversized red trainers to clown shoes. 

The boy looked puzzled for a moment, but seemed to push that thought away for a question instead. He seemed to care little about the potential dangers of wandering up to a stranger. 

Such a Gryffindor. 

“Are you magic?” Harry asked, voice piqued with the right amount of curiosity a kid of James’ would have. “There’s owls that have brown waves like you—are you an owl-man? Do owls even have magic? Are you a man who was turned into an owl or an owl who was turned into a man?” 

Perhaps Remus was wrong. Only a Ravenclaw would ask a question like that. 

“E-excuse me?” he croaked out, taken utterly aback. Of all the ways he envisioned his first conversation with Harry Potter, somehow the situation he was in currently never made it to the list. He wondered why. “I’m not an owl-man, though I am a magic man.”

“Well sir, my name is Harry Potter and I would like to learn some spells from you, magic man.” 

If he wasn’t sure before, it was the sheer confidence with which that statement was said that confirmed the boy in front of Remus was in fact James Potter’s child. Only James could utter a crackpot sentence like that and not miss a beat. Not to mention whatever Potter luck and magic was involved to create this chance encounter, when Harry had not been seen in the public eye for almost seven years. 

Remus didn’t have a clue what to do now. How did one go about telling a random child that he was in fact, not a stranger. He watched over baby Harry many times along with the other Marauders and loved him as if he were his own. How did he tell him that he knew his parents for ten years prior to their deaths, after which he never saw Harry again? He could tell him about the visits with Dumbledore, the Ministry, Gringotts, and even muggle social workers, but what would it matter to him?

He would have to choose his next words carefully. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Harry Potter.” Off to a good start. “My name is Remus Lupin, and although I enjoy the term ‘magic man,’ the preferred nomenclature is actually ‘wizard’ or ‘witch.’ Altogether, you could refer to the general magical population as ‘mages,’ though it’s considered a dated term and most people just use ‘wix’ instead.”

He thought that was alright, and was relieved when Harry nodded his head in understanding. 

“My name is Harry Potter, and I’m a wizard,” he affirmed. It was Remus who nodded this time. “I knew I wasn’t the only one who could do magic—there’s too much of it for just me to use! Do all mages smell like dogs, or is it just you?” 

Ah. Well. 

He supposed that was the quickest anyone had ever caught onto that one. 

Did he really smell that bad? He showered this morning, had he not? 

“That might just be me,” he admitted. “I have a special condition where I turn into a somewhat rabid wolf during a certain lunar period.” 

“Oh. That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“There are better ways I’d rather spend my time, I will admit.” 

Harry looked as if he were thinking very hard about what to say next. 

“Are you like a werewolf, or a man who can turn into a wolf that happens to sound like a werewolf?”

“Wouldn’t a man who can turn into a wolf also be considered a werewolf?” Remus inquired. He understood that he had a whole tragic history to explain to Harry, and would have to answer many more questions about the wizarding world. But, he also figured a good way to answer those questions was to get an understanding of what Harry even knew in the first place. “Why don’t we walk and talk?” 

Harry spent a couple seconds thinking about this question as they began to go deeper into the reptile exhibit. Remus wondered where Harry had come from: whether he was here with his guardians or on another venture altogether. He’d like to meet the people who Dumbledore entrusted Harry with, and would like to throttle them in a vicious and rather wolf-like manner if his theories were correct. 

“I think a werewolf is a man who can turn into a wolf, but a man who can turn into a wolf isn’t always a werewolf,” he eventually answered. “A werewolf could be a woman or a man, and likely didn’t ask to be turned into a wolf. They don’t like vampires, and they’re usually a bit hairy.”

Remus couldn’t help the smile this time. It seemed that Harry was a fan of muggle fantasy and folklore. He still owned a few annotated muggle novels that he traded with Lily back when they took over the Gryffindor Book Club in sixth year. If he was correct, they were somewhere in the attic and would have to pass over to Harry when he had the chance. 

“I can’t say I hate vampires, as I’ve never met one and I believe it’d be rude to make assumptions,” said Remus. They stopped in front of a rather peckish looking African bullfrog. “And I’m only hairy that one day out of the month, otherwise I have the average amount of hair for a man my age. And I don’t turn into a regular wolf, I actually transform somewhat painfully into a humanesque wolf that can stand on two legs.” 

“I think that’s cool,” Harry said casually. 

Remus turned to look at him, only to see Harry intently staring into the eyes of the croaking bullfrog. Well. Everyone had their vices.

“You’re not scared? Most people would run for the hills if they ever got this close to a werewolf, even in human form.” 

“Well there aren’t any hills here, Mr. Lupin.” Harry looked up at him and smirked in a way that was eerily reminiscent of James when he first learned of his right to dad joke. “Not to mention, I think my magic is telling me to trust you. And I mean no offense, but you’re a rather sorry-looking werewolf. Aunt Petunia hates patches on clothing. She thinks it makes you look cheap.”

So many things were happening in Remus’ head. But the most important thing, the one that had his protective side reeling was—

“Petunia?! ” he half-yelled, steam quickly running out when he remembered they were in a public area. “You’re living with Petunia? Petunia Evans?” 

The last time Lily had spoken about Petunia was almost a year before she was killed. She reached out to her sister, warning her to get to safety as the family of muggle-borns were being targeted, and she knew Petunia had a child on the way as well. In return, Lily received a scathing letter about how she wouldn’t allow the freakishness of Lily’s new life interfere with hers, and would happily remain in Little Whinging, and would love it if Lily would refrain from ever contacting her again. It took them three hours to repair the damage from Lily’s explosive magic during the heated rant about her sister. She had nothing good to say, and if Dumbledore had sent Harry there, what did that say about him? 

Harry cocked his head, eyebrows furrowed as he stared intently at Remus. “How do you know my Aunt Petunia? She only goes by Evans at the bank.” 

Remus wished he had a better segue into this conversation. 

“Well, Harry, I know your Aunt Petunia through your mother, Lily Evans,” Remus admitted. He took a deep breath. “I knew her because I went to school with her since we were eleven, where I was also best friends with your father, James Potter. I was the ring bear at their wedding.” 

It was when he said this, that the magic loving boy had withdrawn. Remus stopped, catching this, and putting together what to say next. Surely Petunia had told him of Hogwarts, and how his parents met. She was at their wedding, for Merlin’s sake. If she hadn’t, maybe he didn’t think his parents were married before having him? Petunia seemed like she would admonish someone for living in sin, and if Harry had grown up religio—

“Did you know them before they were drunks?” 

“Drunks ?!” he exclaimed, this time not caring that they were in a public area. This is not where he thought this conversation would go, and he started to think it would continue to to be that way with Harry. “Is that what Petunia told you? Harry, your parents weren’t drunks. They were heroes. They were heroes and they sacrificed themselves to save your life.” 

“Oh.” Harry wasn’t making eye contact anymore, instead staring hard at the bullfrog once again. Remus scanned his face, and saw the ghost of pride in his slightly damp eyes. He was handling this better than expected, considering how sudden the reveal was. “That’s much better than dying in a car accident.” 

“Yes, I’d agree with you there. I’m very proud to have called them my friends, Harry. I’m sorry you weren’t told this before, but I hope you’re proud now knowing the truth.” 

Perhaps he should have taken that Legilimency lecture a bit more seriously if he knew how handy it’d be right now. The boy looked as if he had a million questions and also found out a million answers. Harry blinked a couple times, and let out a wet sniffle. He let out a deep breath, then he looked at Remus again, curiosity and grief a thousand more emotions passing faintly behind the fierce determination in his eyes.

For a potential twin of James, Harry looked so much like Lily right now. 

“What happened to the person who killed them?”

That was a loaded question. 

“Are you here with your family, Harry?” Remus responded instead, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulders and starting to walk them out of the reptile exhibit. It was time to multitask. The answer to that question and what would come after required tea with a dose of calming draught. First, he had to deal with his initial theory which was confirmed by Harry’s reveal that he lived with Petunia. His next step was to figure out the order in which to ask the laundry list of his own questions, the first of which would be what did he mean his magic told him to trust Remus ? 

“I’m here on a school trip, but no one will notice if I’m gone,” Harry said, unfazed. “They didn’t seem to notice when I left. It’s just like that sometimes.” 

More questions. 

They were outside of the reptile exhibit now. The sun was still up high in the sky, and his watch told him it was half after noon. He had so many things to say. But it was lunch time at this point and he supposed he needed some time to plan how to convince Petunia to give up custody to him. From what he figured, she would be eager to get rid of him. As much as that made both him and Moony seethe, he knew Harry would be better off with him and he had a whole month until the next moon to figure out what to do about him then. 

“Do you want to visit the aquarium before we leave, then? We can get lunch and then I’ll Apparate us back to your home and figure out if your Aunt Petunia would be willing to let me have some visits.” 

It was Harry beaming at him before running ahead of him that had Remus convinced he would raze the world if it meant he could keep that happiness on his face. The guilt of leaving him alone with Petunia and her family as well as taking Dumbledore’s word at face value for years was enough for him to begin a mental list of reasons to potentially justify kidnapping Harry from his relatives. They had taken oaths together, the Marauders, back in fourth year during the first phase of planning the Map. Every action since that fateful Halloween went directly against those oaths. 

He wasn’t a good enough friend to the Potters at first for them to trust him with the secret. He failed them again when he lost Harry to Dumbledore, and every thwarted event after. 

He wouldn’t fail them again this time. Harry would be safe, even if it cost them everything. 

Chapter Text

Harry Potter had a new trick up his sleeve.

The Storm of Privet Drive was Harry’s first introduction to magic. He’d never forget that night. For the first time in a very long time, Harry felt safe. Living at the Dursleys had been trouble since he could remember, but now his mind whirled with the possibilities. 

It had been a week since that night, and Harry Potter was turning seven years old. He knew it was his birthday only because Dudley was saying the night before how his mum and dad loved him more, because they stayed alive and bought him presents. Harry wondered what kind of presents his parents would have gotten him if they did stay alive. Maybe a sketchbook and some crayons, but he would have been happy with a can of tuna. Anything, really, if it meant it was from his parents. 

It was well past his bedtime on the thirtieth of July, but Harry wanted to stay up for his birthday. A few months ago, he knicked a cracked watch from Dudley’s second bedroom and used it as a clock. The faint and steady ticking also helped when it got too quiet at night. It also helped him know what time it was when he woke up from a nightmare, though they had gotten lesser in number as he’d grown. 

He sat on his cot, one hand holding up the watch and the other outstretched in between the two faces. Grin plastered on his face, Harry whispered his new favorite words. 

“Lumos .” 

The orb of light he’d grown fascinated with for days appeared at once in his palm. Since the storm, he hadn’t heard a voice again. When he did the spell—since it had to be a spell, because this couldn’t be anything but magic—the small pink orbs hadn’t appeared again. The tingling in the hand casting was still there when he cast, and the pulling sensation in his gut remained the same. 

He noticed he couldn’t keep the light ball up for long, maybe only a minute at max. He usually felt very tired afterwards, but knowing he could do it and seeing it for just a second was good enough for him. Not to mention, it seemed his timing was perfect in this case. 

“Happy birthday, Harry,” he whispered to himself. He knew he wasn’t supposed to tell his wishes to anyone, but as he was alone, he said it out loud. “I know magic is real and that I have it, and that’s the best gift ever. But I wish I could find someone else with magic too. Maybe they’d find a way to take me away from the Dursleys.” 

He took a deep breath and exhaled while willing the orb away and sat in the dark. His birthday wish hadn’t changed in all his years of self-awareness. He wished for someone to come to him and tell him that he’d never have to see the Dursleys again. It was a birthday wish because he felt that, other than to make a wish on a falling star, a birthday wish would have the biggest wish priority of becoming true. Birthday wishes were important, after all. 

The hands on the watch ticked past the number twelve, and Harry returned it to the shelves opposite his cot. He tucked himself into bed, and curled up with his singular toy—a well-loved stuffed black dog from a mandatory class gift exchange.

It was when he was seconds away from sleep when he heard that voice again. Well, he didn’t really consider it a voice, but rather some sounds that he just inherently understood and could translate to spoken word. 

Outside.

Harry’s eyes shot open. Outside. What was outside? 

Outside.

Oh. It was one of those things. He figured he could go outside, though would he be able to go out to the front yard without any lurking neighbors peeking by? 

Harry opened the door to the cupboard without making a single noise. He figured there was magic on his side, for it was both real and Petunia rarely forgot to lock the latch on his cupboard. 

He stepped out and snuck into the kitchen, careful not to step on the creaky floorboard before the entrance. There was a strong gut instinct driving him to not go to the front yard, but to the back instead. He managed to avoid making any noise above a dull thud, which was masked from Vernon’s snoring up the stairs. 

The lock to the door came undone silently, and Harry Potter made his way out to the back porch. The air was thick with the heat of summer. He scanned the yard, only to spy a silver haired tabby cat perched on top of the greenhouse.. It looked stunned to see him, and he was to it. Not only because it was staring right at him, but because clouding the cat was a thick glowing web of blue and brown strings, flecks of red and orange coming through from its core. 

Harry cocked his head. 

The cat cocked hers. 

The more he stared, the more the cloud seemed to dissipate, and disappear altogether. He wasn’t sure what that was, but he had a feeling this cat was magic. 

Swift as can be, she jumped down from the roof of the greenhouse and went around the rose bushes, eventually coming up to Harry’s feet. Up close, he noted her coat had dark stripes of grey and her eyes were a much lighter and duller green than Harry’s own. 

She butted her head against his leg, and he sat down to pet her head. 

“You’re rather friendly,” he stated. 

The cat purred in response. She seemed content to listen if he kept scratching behind her ear. He was certain the Dursleys would not be coming out any time soon. 

“Do you want to see something cool?” he asked. A meow of confirmation. 

Harry held out his other hand in front of them. His companion looked on with strong intent. He thought she looked very stern for a cat. It only confirmed his earlier suspicions that this cat was magic.

“Lumos.” 

The familiar ball of light materialized in his palm, and he looked upon it with a fond smile.

The cat perked up in intrigue, circling Harry, but with eyes locked on the light ball in the boy’s hand. She pawed at the ball but it wasn’t solid, not that it dissuaded her interest. Then to her surprise, the warm light from the orb shifted into a faded blush pink. 

“If I focus hard enough, I can make it change colors and brightness too. But then I get tired. I don’t mind getting tired right now, since I’m supposed to be asleep anyway.” 

Harry willed the ball away, and looked at the cat with a mischievous grin. 

“It’s my birthday today, and so I can do some of the things I want. Dudley gets to do whatever he wants on his birthday, but Aunt Petunia won’t let me, so I do them at night. It’s my little secret!” He looked at the cat and shared a thoughtful look, then continued. “I know you’re a cat, but you won’t go around and tell anyone, right?”

The cat seemed stunned. Harry thought it seemed rather human-like for a cat, but maybe it just spent a lot of time with its human. Mrs. Figg’s cats were smarter than they looked; he thought that their faces just looked like they knew things.

“I think that if magic is real, that means someone else out there has to have magic.” He looked at his new friend with hopeful eyes. The cat looked back at him in anticipation. What an astute animal. “I wished for my birthday that someone would come find me and take me away and teach me magic. The Dursleys wouldn’t like this kind of stuff. They think it’s freakish .”

He spat the last word with such disdain it put the cat on its heels with a hiss. For some reason, Harry felt like this cat really understood where he was coming from. Even if his birthday wish wouldn’t come true, as it usually didn’t, at least he got to meet this cat. He hoped it would stay in the neighborhood. Mrs. Figg’s brood had a tendency to chase strays away if she hadn’t gotten to them first. Sometimes he thought it was to save them, rather than scare them.

“I know it won’t happen,” he admitted to the cat. She purred, nudging Harry’s hands with the crown of her head. He started to pet her again. “I think magic will take care of it all in the end anyway. It’s what helped me meet you, after all. That’s a good birthday present, too.”

Harry stood up, giving the cat one final pat on the head. He made his way to the door, turning back to say one final thing to his short-lived friend.

“I’m going to sleep now, but it was nice talking to you. I hope you have a good night, cat.” 

She meowed in earnest. 

Before Harry fell asleep that night, his final thought was that the markings around the cat’s eyes sort of looked like glasses. 

— 

Minerva McGonagall was beyond furious.

She Apparated back to her study at the school, wards in the room specifically keyed to let only her do so, as she lived in Hogwarts Castle, formerly known as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her first instinct was to storm into Albus’ office, and shout at him until her throat ran sore. 

Her second, and more insightful instinct, was to realize that Albus was a good man. But this alone did not make him the great wizard that everyone seemed to think he was. Albus Dumbledore had been made to don many hats, all of which came with a plethora of responsibilities. She didn’t think Albus had ill intent when leaving Harry with the Dursleys, but thought it was ridiculous to rely solely on the wards to entrust his safety. 

Minerva was right when she told Albus the Dursleys weren’t the right sort. She would be wrong if she trusted him again with Harry now.

When he came out of the house last night, she was shocked by his minute frame. He was smaller and scrawnier than she had expected. James was always a lanky boy, though he filled into his height well after years of Quidditch.

She relinquished herself of her robes and summoned her emerald night gown from her quarters, then sat down in front of her desk and pulled out a quill and parchment. 

The first thing was to draft a letter to her long-time friend, Amelia Bones, Head Witch of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She wasn’t entirely sure how to navigate this, and planned on asking for Amelia’s assistance on the matter. Unfortunately, due to the nature of working around Albus Dumbledore, things would have to be done as legally as possible. 

It didn’t matter if it would take years. Minerva would give the Potters—admittedly, two of her favorite students—some justice in the form of Harry. If she had it her way, he would be coming into Hogwarts with a solid understanding of modern magical culture. He’d be happy, healthy, and eager to be there. 

All she had to do was get to work. 

Throughout the next year, Minerva worked in turn with Amelia Bones and various associates on the clandestine mission to ensure the safety of Harry Potter. Being that he was the most famous name in wizarding Britain, it wouldn’t do them well if his location and home life were revealed to the public. Not that it would ever be revealed at the rate things were progressing, as it seemed every hurdle Minerva overcame revealed two more. 

First, she had to challenge the idea of a ‘magical guardian.’ She didn’t understand when or why Albus had dubbed himself thee, but as far as she and the law understood, a magical guardian was nonexistent. Therefore, they had to change Harry’s records. Only to find out, aside from those from his infancy, Harry Potter’s records were never updated since that awful Halloween. It would be the Muggles who would have the rest of the information, though navigating around Muggle diplomacy was always a hard fought battle.

There also stood the manner of James and Lily’s wills. It was required by the Order of the Phoenix for every active member to have an updated will. It was a precaution they took during war, for everyone to go into battle with some semblance of peace of mind. She recalled James and Lily talking about updating their wills shortly after the birth of Harry, though she wasn’t sure if they were ever read. Minerva would have to contact Gringotts to do that, and as she wasn’t anything more than an interested party with only the salary of an educator in her vault, she knew they would take as long as they needed to contact her back. 

During the year she would get so frustrated, she’d consider the decision to quit altogether. She persevered through it, and it was when she went to see the Boy-Who-Lived-on-Privet-Drive a second time that she was gifted a renewed fervor for her quest once again.

The night of Harry’s eighth birthday, Minerva Apparated with a solid crack to light at the end of Privet Drive. A wave of her wand let the light fizzle out. Checking to make sure she was in the clear, she then transformed into a cat and trotted down to Number Four.

It was when she hopped the fence that she was taken over by feline instinct and ran up the side of the greenhouse and onto the roof. The first thing to hit Minerva’s ears were the various sounds of hissing. She looked around for the source, seeing at first the dozen or so snakes huddled around a small pre-pubescent boy. She noticed he was hissing, too. In a way that seemed as if he was conversing with the snakes. 

Harry Potter being a Parselmouth was not what she thought she would find that night. But the sheer joy in his eyes and watching them light up further when he suddenly turned and caught hers warmed her heart in immense ways. 

He looked out of place. 

She jumped down and joined him, one eye staying on the snakes. They seemed just as wary of her as she was of them.

Around the trimmed lawn and manicured flower bushes, Harry sat by the roses. He drowned in his clothes, and faded bruises decorated his knees. At a closer look, dirt was still scuffed on the bridge of his nose. He looked like he had been pushed around a bit.

“Hello, cat!” Harry exclaimed as loud as he could in a whisper. “You’re the magic cat, aren’t you!” 

He leaned very close to her, and said in a stage whisper, “If you can talk you can say something to me. I won’t tell anyone your secret.” 

Minerva weighed her options. She looked up at Harry and meowed. It was the closest to talking she could do. 

“Basta’s saying that you’re a funny-smelling cat, but I think that’s probably your magic,” he continued. A slender bronzy snake poked its head out of the grass and hissed in agreement. 

She noted the slight hisses on Harry’s ‘ess’s.’ He scratched her head. 

“Did you come back because it’s my birthday? That’s why the snakes are here, too. Did you know that snakes like to gossip? They don’t always have anything important to talk about so we decided to throw a party for my birthday. They don’t do those like humans do.” 

She cocked her head. 

Last year, she learned that Harry was living with his relatives who did not celebrate his birthday. This year, she learned he found a workaround by hosting a birthday party with a dozen snakes of various danger levels. She didn’t even know where the one he called Basta had come from, as old memories of vacationing on the Sicilian Coast had helped her identify that snake as an Italian Aesculapian. One that had no business being in the backyard of a house in Surrey suburbia. 

“My birthday wish never came true last year,” he admitted. Some of the snakes hissed in response. He turned his attention from Minerva and hissed something back to his entourage. 

She noticed the ease he seemed to have with animals. As a cat, she was on edge around the snakes, though she wouldn’t say she’d have fared off better as a human instead. It was actually better that she let her feline instincts take over in this instance, because Harry knew she was magic somehow and she couldn’t reveal her identity just yet.

“I did learn something else, though,” Harry said in a whisper. 

Minerva’s ears perked up at this. She was assuming that it wasn’t about the snakes. Being that Harry was still on Privet Drive almost exactly the same as she’d found him last time, there seemed to be no wix around to show him the way of magic. Which only meant that, somehow, Harry was able to figure out magic by himself and even teach himself something without getting irreparably injured in the process. 

Harry must have said something to the snakes, because they slithered away and formed a small circle around the rock path. One of them had left, but was now returning with a dead rat in its fangs. It left it in the middle of the circle and moved to join the audience. 

“Watch closely, okay?” Harry grinned. His eyes glowed with mischief. “Incendio.” 

The rat burst into flames. The snakes hissed in cheers, and bobbed their heads up and down in lieu of applause—they lacked the hands to do so with.

Minerva was reeling . 

The fire died down, and left nothing but charred remains of a pitiful brown rodent. (Somewhere out there, magic stirred.)

“I got better with my Lumos too!” Harry exclaimed. 

He wasn’t wrong. A quick mutter of the spell, and three small orbs of light hovered around the boy’s hand. Minerva had resigned herself to accept that once again, another Potter would be causing havoc in her life. This time pranking her and the world about what they thought they knew about magic. 

The orbs began to change in color: a cool blue, warm yellow, rosy pink. Then, they floated away from Harry’s hand and found spots amongst the snakes. The pink light gently bumped into Minerva’s snout and then hovered around her head. She batted at it with her paws a few times, before gathering her composure as well as a cat could. 

“I haven’t had many birthdays, but this one is one of the best ones yet,” Harry whispered with a smile. “I knew I could trust magic.” 

The rest of the party went over quickly after that. Harry began to get tired after his show of magic, and Minerva had a million questions to ask and felt a glass of scotch would be a fine pair with them. 

After her return to Hogwarts, she felt a new fire in her quest to get Harry away from the Dursleys. This time she would be a bit more reckless in her sources. 

The first thing she did was cast a Lumos , and watched a single cool ball of light form at the tip of her wand. Closing her eyes, she visualized the balls of light Harry had conjured earlier, breathing into her magic. A slight tick of irritation nudged her—if a seven year old could customize his Lumos , so could she. She felt a trill through her veins, down to the palms of her hands, and opened her eyes. 

There were two balls of light, floating independently of her wand. A flourish of her wand extinguished the lights, and holstered her wand under the sleeve of her left arm. Holding out her hand, she visualized the orbs again, and pulled for the magic she just felt. 

Opening her eyes, she saw two balls of light floating in front of her once again. A proud smile graced her lips, then quickly vanished as she realized the weight of her discovery. 

This time, she wrote a letter to Remus Lupin. 

During Hogwarts, Remus had a reputation of being a bookworm. It was Minerva, and the other professors, who knew that for all the books Remus had, it was never out of leisure, but out of necessity. He never had the natural brilliance of James and his pseudo-brother, but he did have a knack for going deeper into a subject than required to gain comprehension. His essays often featured trailing thoughts on connected patterns and reached from various subjects. She was sure the Hat was split between her house and Ravenclaw for him, just as it was for her. 

This would mean he’d have the loyalty of a lion, but still be curious enough to indulge Minerva’s theories. She held back for a second, before starting the letter. Instead of writing about Harry, she decided to pen the letter under the guise of asking about a student at Hogwarts she and the other professors had recently observed. She figured it would explain why she was reaching to an outside source. 

She wrote that she had recently encountered a muggle-raised child with a prospective talent for wandless magic. This child knew a couple spells before reaching Hogwarts, but all they had to say on the topic was that they trusted in magic. Every witch and wizard who had spent more than a few years around magic knew that of all things, they could never trust magic, only their own control over their own. It was why magical children were almost forced into accepting magical schooling, for eventually their innate magic would grow too wild for their own control. 

She didn’t know who, or what , had taught this child their magic, but wondered if perhaps they were hiding another secret. They seemed to have an affinity for animals, something which she and many other transforming humans seemed to have. Asking if Remus had perhaps ever had any encounters with the werewolf and its magic was how she ended the letter, as well as a warm wish of good tidings. 

Then she sent it off with her personal owl Demetrius, a stern screech owl who lived in the rafters of her study. He nipped at her fingers in delicate loving fashion, and hooted once before leaving with a strong flap of his wings. 

Remus did not respond for two months—months where she had begun her own research into wandless magic. There were few documented cases of children learning to control their magic before school. The Hogwarts curriculum didn’t feature wandless magic until OWL year for a reason. (Non-verbal magic was covered in sixth.) It required a strong foundation in using magic and familiarity with one’s magical core, and that was only developed after years of using and believing in one’s ability to even do magic. It was even why students raised in muggle homes actually had a harder time grasping wandless magic at first. Most people’s strongest wandless spells were done accidentally as children.

Her own grasp of wandless magic was above the average, though she found it tired herself out faster than others. She could transfigure wandlessly with ease, however. Her advanced talents always leaned toward the non-verbal side of things, for Transfiguration was a magic that relied heavier on visualization.

That year, she and Remus began a somewhat stunted conversation through letters about magical theory. She invited Filius and Pomona into her study occasionally, extending the topic to them, though without mention of Remus and definitely not Harry. Severus would always decline. 

What everyone could agree on was that controlled wandless magic required a sturdy foundation and belief in magic to do so. Before the years of the Statute, when muggles and wix lived in open cooperation, there was a stronger concentration of wandless magicians. Documents in the Ministry Archives had various recordings of why this was so, citing Mother Magic as the source of their powers.

These days, Mother Magic was naught but a name sometimes mentioned in a folk story told to magical children. Years of research led by various wix had turned lore into theory, and it was rare to find any mention of magic as anything other than a tool. 

If Harry trusted magic, then did Magic trust him? 

And if so, what did that mean for the rest of them?

It would make sense that the boy who defied the killing curse continued to be a magical marvel. She was certain the Department of Mysteries still used that night as a point of discussion—she knew the DMLE still used Black’s case as a point of training for new Aurors.

Minerva watched her students more carefully than generally would this year, and continued to question what she knew about magic than ever before. Teaching was harder for her, being that Transfiguration theory was as strict as could be and she had found a hole in what she thought was a generic fundamental of it all. She found that her classes had risen in the occasional spirited debate, though it was only to her student’s enjoyment that she let it continue. They were engaged enough that she herself found a reignited love for educating and connecting with her students through these debates.  

Perhaps it was why when a tawny owl named Patroclus she had recently become acquainted with flew into her study, she was stunned by the contents of the letter he carried. 

Remus Lupin had run into Harry Potter at the London Zoo, and upon meeting the Dursleys—who quickly relinquished any forms of custody of Harry and asked him to post them the paperwork—he instantly took Harry back to his cottage. Then he sat down and wrote a letter, which he tied to his owl and sent to Minerva. 

He noted Harry had somehow already known about magic, and correctly identified him as a “rabid wolf-man” upon first meeting. Whilst they were home, Harry asked about his parents and then lit the candles on the sitting room table with a flick of his wrist. It was this act of magic that had him deciding to leave his Floo address at the bottom of the letter, and politely but firmly requesting that Minerva see him as soon as she could. 

She cast a quick Tempus , which showed that dinner in the Hall was an hour to begin. Weighing her options, she sent a silvery tabby Patronus to Pomona and informed her that she found a particularly interesting Transfiguration theory to test and would be taking dinner in her quarters that night. Without further delay, she used her personal Floo to arrive at—

“The Wolf’s Den!” 

A whoosh of green flames had her spinning through various fireplaces, until she was spat out and stepped foot on a worn maroon rug and was quickly hit with the smell of hot chocolate. A worn-out but familiar and kind face greeted her at first glance. 

“A bit on the nose, wouldn’t you say, Remus?” Minerva quipped, brushing any remnants of ash off her robes.

He had the decency to look sheepish. Good for him. “James and Sirius named it when they first helped set it up, I never found the need to change it.” His eyes darkened, a relatable feeling of anger rising up her throat as well. “Even after everything, I remembered how happy we were that day. So I kept it.” 

Remus got lost in his memories for a second. Minerva let him be. She understood, and he had it worse off compared to what some people got during the war. Then he cleared his throat.

“Would I be right in assuming that this mysterious Hogwarts student we’ve been corresponding about might be the green-eyed clone of James Potter I have sitting in the kitchen?” 

Minerva did not have the audacity to hide her guilt. “It wasn’t my secret to tell. I’ve been working to get him free from those horrid people, but unfortunately the laws of our world and Albus’ impact during the war have intertwined in many corners.”

It made her proud how fast Remus jumped to understanding, and explained a story of his own.

“I get it. Harry’s a special kid. He was telling me about a magic cat he’d see, but not the Kneazles from Figg’s—which is an entirely different issue I have as well—but I could only think of one magical cat I’ve ever encountered.” His eyes grew fond this time. “I didn’t tell your secret, but I think he’d be delighted to see who this cat really is. He’s been asking about his parents, and I thought you might have some stories to share as well. Then maybe we could figure out what to do next?” 

Minerva nodded in agreement as he led her to the kitchen. “I’d love to meet him as well, and if needed I can ask my elf Dizzy to bring dinner from the kitchens. I’m sure it’s been a while since you’ve had a meal as good as the ones from Hogwarts, and if I remember Harry correctly, he could use one as well.” 

“Harry, this is the Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts, the school your parents and I went to,” Remus stated, gesturing to Minerva. “I’m going to get us all some tea.”

Harry looked up at her with a look of wonder, but a slight distrust as well. She thought she knew how to gain it. 

“Hello Harry,” she greeted in a warm tone. “My name is Minerva McGonagall, while you are in Hogwarts, until you graduate you can call me Professor McGonagall, or trust Professor. For now, you can just call me Minerva. We’ve already met, but you might know me better as—” 

A silver striped tabby cat stood in her place, then she jumped on top of the table. 

“Cat!” Harry exclaimed. No one ever gave him a prize for creativity, she thought. 

“You’re the magic cat from my birthday!”

Minerva transformed back to her human self, and Remus took the chance then to turn and come back to them with a kettle full of tea. Minerva drank hers with a dash of milk and a single cube of sugar, Remus with two cubes and a splash of milk, and Harry dumped three cubes of sugar into his, took a sip, then added two more. Then, a spoonful of milk. The adults looked on with mute horror.

Harry looked at them both with a grand smile. “This means that my birthday wish did come true!” 

Curious, Remus asked, “May I ask what your birthday wish was, Harry?”

Harry gave Remus a calculating once-over. Then, he said, “Sure, but only because it happened. I’m not making this a habit. I wished that someone magic would take me from the Dursleys, and then I met Professor Minerva, the cat-woman!” Minerva cringed. “Then you, Remus, and now you guys are going to teach me magic, right?” 

He watched them both with elation, then continued when they both gave encouraging nods. 

“Magic led me to you both!” he exclaimed in earnest. “Did you use magic to find me, too?” 

Minerva saw this as her chance. 

“What do you mean by magic leading you to us, Harry?” she asked in response. “How did magic help you find us?” 

After some silence, Harry revealed the truth.

“Sometimes, I hear a voice in my head,” he admitted. “It sounds like a woman. But she only says a word or two. I try talking to her, but she doesn’t say anything back. I know she listens, otherwise I wouldn’t have met you two!” 

Remus sipped his tea. 

“Perhaps you should stay for dinner, Minerva. It seems we may have some more questions to ask Harry here.” 

“Perhaps I should,” Minerva agreed. She turned to face Harry, grinning. “Harry, how would you feel about meeting a magical being called a house-elf?” 

He looked at her with glee. 

Chapter Text

Before Minerva summoned Dizzy, she gave Harry a lecture. He figured that should be expected, given she was actually not a cat, but a real live human professor and they had a reputation of doing just so.  

Dizzy had been assigned as Minerva’s personal Hogwarts companion at the beginning of her post and had become a loyal friend over the years. She would not let Harry or Remus know how many years for certain. Then she quickly went over what a house-elf was, and what duties most had. 

“House-elves have very powerful magic, and due to that many people fear them,” Minerva admitted. “It is due to this reason that years ago, around the time of Hogwarts’ creation, there was an uprising in the number of contracted elves. At the time, the elves accepted the protections that came with the contracts, but never found a way out of them.” 

“Is there any way to help them now?” Harry asked. He had an unfortunate feeling he knew the answer to this question and empathized with the house-elves. He knew what it was like to work for nothing and be treated like dirt. It wasn’t very nice. 

“Many people think of house-elves as a tool, but they are wrong to think that,” Minerva said. “Hogwarts hosts many elves and works with them to provide a high quality of living for our students to pair with their education. Without them, our lives would have more burdens. Some powerful people are aware of this, and do not want to live without these privileges.”

Harry got enough of that to understand it was a ‘no.’ It sounded a bit like they were slaves, but he thought he would keep that conversation for a different day. His brain was already swimming with information, and while he was excited to learn about magic— finally! —he was also young and tired and in need of some sleep. He hoped he’d stay awake until the end of this visit.

“There are some elves out there that aren’t under contract and have a working agreement with their employers, though,” Minerva said with a twinkle. “Hogwarts is one of those employers, and we are proud to say that as well.” 

Harry wondered if she was trying to butter him up to go to Hogwarts. It would make sense, being that she worked there and all. He’d seen Vernon do it plenty of times for his business dinners, and he knew when someone was trying to sell. He didn’t know if it was worth mentioning he knew he was going to Hogwarts regardless—Remus told him his mum and dad went there after all, and he’d like to get to know where they grew up at least. 

“Regardless, I’m sure you must be hungry. And, Remus, thank you for being so hospitable as always.”

“Of course, Minerva, but I’m not sure if I’m being hospitable at all when you’re supplying our food,” Remus responded lightly. He took another sip of his tea and turned to Harry then. “Harry, another thing is to be polite when meeting Dizzy. You should always be respectful when meeting magical creatures of any race, and any intelligence. Many of them are smarter and more powerful than you may ever realize.” 

Harry nodded dutifully and looked at Minerva. “I understand; may we please have dinner now?” 

Minerva smiled at him. He thought she looked very happy about something for a second, but he didn’t know what. 

“Dizzy!” 

With a pop, a short humanoid creature with large folded pointed ears appeared at once. Her round blue eyes scanned the room, glancing at Minerva and then shooting to Harry instead. Her eyes widened and met Minerva’s again. They seemed to have a silent conversation with just their eyes, and he thought it was a real testament to their friendship.

The first thing Harry noticed was that Dizzy’s magic was outlined like the cocoa brown of Remus’, but her inner core was a blazing fiery orange orb at her center with hints of fuchsia pink. He noted at this time that Minerva’s magic also had a splash of rosy pink, but was primarily a mustard yellow, with sparkling golden threads intertwined in the webs. 

Minerva and Remus both had clouds of magic around them, lines threading and webbing themselves around their bodies and meeting in their centers. However, Dizzy’s magic came from her center. He, not for the first time, wondered what his own looked like, and hoped it looked as colorful as theirs.

“Miss Minerva, may I please ask why this child highly resembles the child known as Harry Potter?” Dizzy asked. “The child who hasn’t been seen in the magical year for seven years ? What have you done now?”  

“That is because that is indeed Mr. Potter, Dizzy,” Minerva grinned, knowing she was sharing a very important secret with the house-elf. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else about his being here.” 

Dizzy tsked at Minerva, seeming to scoff at the thought. 

“You would be smarter not to jest with me, Miss Minerva. I’d say I know you better than any other living human—including our beloved Headmaster. You know very well my loyalty to you runs high, especially with all the secrets I've kept over the years.” Dizzy turned to Harry, looking at him with intrigue now. He felt a chill go down his spine when meeting her gaze. 

“You will do; Mother Magic has blessed this one indeed,” the house-elf said after some silence. “Have you heard her voice sing to you?” 

Harry’s eyes widened. He heard Minerva’s tea cup clatter loudly on the plate. He thought he heard Remus choking, but wasn’t able to take his eyes off the house-elf. Any sense of fatigue he’d had was long gone, for the creature in front of him might have answers to questions he’s had long before the adults did. 

“Who’s Mother Magic?” he asked first. “If she’s the lady I hear sometimes, she’s never singing. She says a word or two, but usually, all I get is a feeling.” 

It was Remus who spoke this time. Harry thought he’d been quiet for a while, but it seemed he had enough things to consider. 

“Mother Magic is a name that has long been lost in modern society,” Remus stated. Harry could hear the question waiting for them at the end of this spiel. “Back before, when Muggles lived alongside magic, there was also Mother Magic. She was of many beings who were once worshiped as a deity, though she is the only one we can find records of now. Minerva and I only heard of her for the first time this year.”

He looked at Dizzy with a renowned vigor in his eyes. Harry felt that Remus was very good at explaining things and enjoyed knowing things—perhaps he could be a teacher. 

“What do you mean Harry has been blessed by Mother Magic?” 

Dizzy’s eyes darkened when she looked at Harry this time, almost as if she was losing herself in a trance. He didn’t enjoy the lifeless gaze in her eyes until suddenly they lit up again with life. He didn't think he'd forget the eerie look she had anytime soon.

“We house-elves have access to magic far superior to your human abilities. One of these things is that we can see the magic around anything with magic, including humans. Mr. Potter’s is quite hard to miss—it’s very bright.” 

Harry perked up hearing this, very interested again. This was the first he’d heard of someone else being able to see magic. 

“What color is my magic?” he asked. “Yours is orange but has this brown outline—like Remus!”

The adults looked confused at the mention of seeing magic, but Dizzy just laughed as if Harry told a very funny joke. 

“The brown is creature magic, Mr. Potter,” she said sternly, very reminiscent of Minerva. He could see why they were friends for so long—other than the entire benefit of employment, of course. “It is only brown to your eyes because humans cannot fathom the color of creature magic for what it truly is.” 

“Oh, okay,” Harry conceded. He'd learned with magic that sometimes, that was just the way things were. “That’s fine, it looks like chocolate anyway. It’s not ugly or anything.”

“Well of course, for there are not many kinds of magic that are ugly at its core,” Dizzy explained. She seemed somewhat predatory as if she was studying Harry. “There is just magic, and then it is up to humans and their morals to complete the equation. However, that is a bigger conversation thank you think, Mr. Potter.” 

She snapped her fingers at once, and an array of dinner dishes decorated the table they sat at. Roast chicken, crispy roasted potatoes, stewed and roasted vegetables, potato mash served with gravy—it smelled incredible, and there was so much Harry thought Remus’ table groaned when it appeared. Dizzy also provided an upgrade from Remus’ mismatched silverware and replaced all the cutlery on the table with a sparkling golden set instead. She also added candles and nice crimson placemats as well. Harry felt she had outdone herself.

“I am very glad to have met you, Mr. Potter. If I do not have the privilege of seeing you before then, I will be ready to see you at Hogwarts soon. May Mother Magic’s blessing guide you in your life.”

Dizzy then gave a deep bow to Harry and a much less formal one to Minerva and Remus. She popped away at an instant, and the only evidence she was even there was the beautiful dinner waiting for them in Remus’ dining room. 

Minerva rolled her eyes, and called out to the air, “Thank you, Dizzy!” 

Then, she turned to Harry. 

“Please enjoy this dinner straight from Hogwarts’ finest kitchen, Harry,” Minerva said with a smile, and picked up a serving of the chicken. Remus served himself some mash. 

Harry took this as his cue and proceeded to eat himself the most he’d had for dinner since—well. Ever. The Dursleys certainly did not feel the urge to feed Harry like this, and Petunia’s cooking was quite average in comparison to centuries-old house-elves. He supposed that Petunia's dehydrated grocery spices were lacklustre in comparison to herbs grown by literal magic.

Whilst they ate, the adults prodded Harry with some other questions. He felt that he could answer them honestly, and it would be just fine. So he told them about the time Petunia cut his hair real short, and it grew back the next day anyway. Then, he told them about the time Dudley and his gang chased him through the school, and he somehow ended up on the rooftops. No, they did not send him to bed with dinner every night. He didn't know the last time he'd been to a doctor for anything other than the required vaccinations. The round glasses were from the school's lost and found bin, and they weren't always the best. He knew the Dursleys never treated him like a king, but apparently that was not fine at all to Remus and Minerva. Every answer he gave them seemed to fuel a fire in their eyes, a rage that seemed to blister at the sheer thought of the Dursleys. 

“They had him sleeping in the cupboard , Minerva,” Remus hissed, fork bending in the clutch of his hands. “You should have seen Petunia’s face when she recognized me—she was all too eager to pawn Harry off to any wizard. He’s lucky it was me. He’s not going back there.”

When Remus said this, Harry thought back to their conversation at the zoo. Remus claimed he wasn’t a wolf-man, but he seemed quite wolf-like in his anger against the Dursleys. He wasn’t sure why the man would be so upset on his behalf, but it made him feel something to see it. His lip curled, his nose twitched, and he very easily bent a metal utensil with his bare hands. Vernon couldn't do that on his best days. If Remus had a tail right now, Harry was sure it'd be straight up and wagging in anger.

On the contrary, Minerva’s lips went thin in anger, and her nostrils flared, akin to what a dragon’s might look like before they breathe fire. At that moment, Harry wasn’t sure if he would rather go up against Minerva the not-a-cat professor, or a dragon. He didn’t know why, but he thought his chances would be better against the dragon. 

“A cupboard ?” she spat. “Lily Evans would be rolling in her grave to hear that— absolutely not. Damn what Albus has to say, you’re keeping Harry from now on, Remus. It should have been that way from the start if not for that damned Blac—”

“Leave it in the past, Minerva,” Remus sighed. “Have you made any progress on your case? You know the Ministry won’t allow me to have custody and we don’t have access to James and Lily’s wills—”

His eyes whipped to Harry abruptly. He looked back at Minerva. They seemed to come to a conclusion that was beyond Harry at this moment, so he turned back into his mash. 

The rest of their conversation went over his head. He heard something about an alley, then decided to stop caring. They talked until all three had put their utensils down, to which all the remains of the food vanished from the table. Harry thought he was full until another set of golden silverware appeared in front of him, as well as a treacle tart, some biscuits, and a fresh kettle of tea. 

Once again, he told himself how much he loved magic. 

He felt a chill. 

Startled, he looked up and saw the other two conversing as if nothing happened. 

Ah. One of those things. 

He served himself a slice of the tart and resolved to think about it later. 

Happy.

He nodded. He was very happy. He loved treacle tart. He’d only ever had it once before, snagged during the aftermath of one of Vernon’s parties. Nonetheless, he was very thankful it was here tonight. Having his favorite dessert along with the day he had was the cherry on top. 

A warm chill in the room seemed to brush against his arms. 

He looked up and realized the adults felt that, too.

It was gone, then. For some reason, he felt they had the same feeling he had that was to just ignore it and move on. So, they did.

“Tomorrow, we’re going to visit Gringotts, Harry,” Remus stated. “Minerva’s going back to Hogwarts tonight, and since the school’s in session we won’t be seeing her again for a while. It’s just going to be you and me.”

He looked at Harry with an earnest but steadfast gaze. “Is that okay with you? I know this is all very sudden, and I’m sure you must have a lot of questions. I’d love to answer them tomorrow morning, but for right now I’d just like to know you’re on board.”

Harry took a bite of his treacle tart, musing. He enjoyed how Remus always asked if something was okay with Harry. The Dursleys never did that, and in fact, would probably prefer if Harry had no tongue so he could not speak. In the short amount of hours he’d known Remus, the wolf-man had provided for him and shown him more care than the Dursleys ever had in his entire life. What would be one more trip with the man? He swallowed the mouthful of his tart and then decided.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he shrugged. “What’s Gringotts?”

“Gringotts Wizarding Bank in London—the major wizarding hub in Great Britain,” Remus clarified. “Your dad came from a long line of powerful people who had a vault or two, and I know Lily also opened an account during her first year. You need to go in and claim your inheritance, and maybe we can look in the vaults to see if there’s anything from your parents. I’m sure the Ministry forwarded what they could into the Potter vaults after Halloween.” 

Harry didn’t like the way Remus’ magic pulsed every time he mentioned Harry’s parents. For the most part, after spending some time with Remus, he’d grown used to his magic and managed to see around it. Every time it pulsed though, it made Harry feel weary and a little sad.

He saw the faint excitement on Remus’ worn face though and made sure the smile on his own stayed secure. “Sure, I can’t wait. When are we going?”

“We’ll go early before the alley starts to wake up. Which means we’re going to have to bid Minerva a good night and get to sleep soon.” 

When he turned to her she seemed to be thinking about something else entirely, and the way she looked at Harry when it all clicked terrified him.

“Before I leave, what do you think about roller coasters, Harry?” Minerva asked with a feline grin. 

Harry loved roller coasters and told her such. He didn’t see the correlation she seemed to make, though. 

— 

Shortly after dessert, Minerva took the Floo back to Hogwarts with a warm farewell and left Remus and Harry alone in The Wolf’s Den.

Remus’ cottage was admittedly rather shabby on the inside. Aside from the rug by the Floo and the dining room setup, everything else looked torn up to an extent. He had empty bookshelves as the books were cluttered in small piles and towers throughout the living room and on top of the other available surfaces. There were various plant stands and pots, though whatever once grew in them was long dead and gone. The living room couch had a color, once upon a time, though Harry wouldn’t be able to tell you what it was. 

There were long scratches etched deep into parts of the walls that were painted a light, sad beige. There were bits of the wall plastered over but not yet painted, where Harry could only assume more scratches lay underneath. 

Harry thought this meant it had character. The real feature of the cottage was the large plot of land  Remus had to himself at the border of a magical forest, a long stretch from the nearest muggle neighborhood. This suited Remus well, for he was a werewolf and did not want to cannibalize any unlucky passersby by accident. He didn’t let Harry explore just yet though, and told him he would take him on a small tour through the grounds soon. 

Remus took him upstairs and showed him to the attic. He knocked twice on a pillar, and behind him, a ladder dropped down from the trapdoor. The loft itself was furnished in a nice loft-like style, offering a small area reachable by another ladder, where a single bed lay on top of a wooden pallet underneath a small stained glass window. In the central part of the room, a large Persian-style rug warmed up the inside. 

Unlike the rest of the cottage, the loft was much cozier and decorated well. Some live plants trailed up the sides of the windows as if craving to be near the light. There was a bookshelf against the wall stocked to the top with various books and trinkets. Posters looking to be diagrams of some sort decorated the walls near the desk. Other than the two large windows on the rightmost wall, most of the light came from enchanted floating candles.

“S—Sirius had them put in after we converted this to a loft,” Remus said softly as he walked around. He brushed his fingers over the desk in the corner and scowled at the dust. A wave of his wand vanished all the dust in the room away, leaving all the surfaces sparkling clean.

“You can stay up here for now; I’ve been using the second room as storage and need to clean it out. If you want to bring the ladder up, just knock on the trap door, and then knock twice to bring it down.” 

“All this—for me?” Harry asked in awe. 

They both saw the cupboard he was living in until now. He hoped Remus could excuse his shock. 

“Of course,” Remus said, smiling brightly at Harry. “You can stay up here or take a look at the second room tomorrow and take that if you’d like. When you’re in The Wolf’s Den, you’re at home. Your father and Sirius gifted this cottage to me after our seventh year to spend the moon after graduating from Hogwarts. I ended up living here during the war and moved back recently. Peter never got to spend any time here because he always seemed to be busy after then and then, well.”

At this, Remus seemed to get a bit misty-eyed. He scratched the back of his neck, probably a reflex of feeling somewhat awkward. Harry refrained from saying anything because he was hoping he’d get past it and then tell him a bit more about his dad. Remus did get through and looked at Harry with a renewed and fond smile.

“Many of the wards and enchantments on this cottage were done by James and Sirius, and Lily kept the ingredients for the Wolfsbane Potion and many others growing in the garden before your parents moved out together. The four of us enchanted this loft into a living space together—it was just a small attic before. This place is as much your home as Godric’s Hollow would have been. Lily stayed in this loft after her parents died—oh, sorry, your grandparents—”

Harry began tuning Remus out and started putting the pieces together. His dad warded this cottage, whatever that meant. They lived at Godric’s Hollow, but before that, his mum had a garden and lived here. Right, where Harry was going to stay! This meant these plants were probably hers and she likely put those posters up, too. 

“I don’t need the second room, Remus, I think I’d like to stay here instead.” 

Remus grinned at Harry, not caring about being cut off. He looked like he was just waiting for Harry to say just that anyway.  

“Perfect. Then we can figure out everything else tomorrow. To extinguish the candles, just clap your hands twice. To turn them back on, clap once.” 

Remus turned to head back down the ladder, and bid Harry a final goodnight.  This left Harry alone in the loft, lit by the many candles and the cool stars of the night sky. 

He could feel the magic inside like never before. He knew he was beyond tired and would fall asleep the moment he hit his new bed, but this was everything he’d ever dreamed of. He needed a second to take it in. 

Two years. 

For two years, he’d lived his secret life of magic in silence. He waited for the Dursleys to sleep before whispering what spells he knew in the darkness of the cupboard. At the library, he read nothing but fantasy novels in an attempt to figure out what kind of wizard he was and hopefully learn some magic, too. He took his family’s detest for him in stride and kept his head down everywhere else. 

Every night, he prayed on his magic for someone to come and find him. The Dursleys were not a religious family, and he never really believed in any god, but he always believed that if there was something out there they’d hear him eventually. If not, he'd believe in his ability to do it. He wished for it again during both of his birthdays. Over time he met snakes, cats, and owls galore. This was all proof there was indeed magic, but not a fellow magical person seemed to live in Surrey. 

Sometimes the voice would let him know something new. And then he heard the voice at the London Zoo. It was then he should have known then that the voice was working this entire time to make his dream come true. The voice led him to Remus—told him to trust Remus—and Remus took him away from the Dursleys and told him he had a home. A real home, with someone who gave him something much better than the cupboard. 

His heart warmed. He looked around, sensing small pulses of magic coming from the plants. Their magic looked like a light sheen of water sitting on the leaves of each vine. They reached out to him, and visibly shook when he put his hand on one of the big monstera leaves. 

He wondered if they missed his mum, and somehow knew he was her son. For all he knew about magic, he knew that sometimes that’s just how it worked. 

Harry wandered over to the bookshelf, running his hand over the backs of the books. Some were muggle fantasy and romance, which made sense because his mum was once a teenage girl. He’d seen the groups of them huddling over books at the library, and nothing good ever came of it. They were always very nice to him, but something about teenage girls intimidated Harry. 

The rest were all magical books. Some looked to be textbooks, such as One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi , and The Standard Book of Spells Year 1 through Year 6 . The shelf of unmarked journals piqued his interest, and he grabbed them and opened one of them. 

Property of Lily Evans, age 13. If found, please return to Gryffindor Tower or through owl. If found by Petunia, please put this down and stop acting like such a snob. Also, give me back my scarf, Gryffindor colors look terrible on you.

Contents: Personal Third Year Journal Part One (see also: Personal First Year Journal and Second Year Journal, and more to come...)

He closed the journal, noting this book for later. He couldn't keep his excitement in, and a wild smile grazed his lips. This was his mother’s journal, and the closest thing to knowing her he could get. But she was also a teenage girl, and he didn’t know if he wanted to know about the inner workings of her mind then. He reached for another and opened it to the first page. 

Property of Lily Evans, age 16. If found, please return to Gryffindor Tower or through owl. If found by Petunia, just give this back. and go back to lowering your self-worth for that pig Vernon.

Contents: Spellweaving notes. May also feature: Charms class notes, Potions class notes, Herbology class notes, and tea leaf fortunes from Divinating. Maybe even revenge pranks if that blasted Potter doesn't let up.

This one could prove to be interesting. He hoped his mother at sixteen was calmer than his at thirteen, but that last bit had him wary. He was going to read through it one day nonetheless, as he hadn't heard of "spellweaving" before and was curious. He returned it to the shelf and pulled out a final journal. 

Property of Lily Evans, age 18. If found, please owl to Lily Evans, at The Loft of The Wolf’s Den. If found by James, I love you, but please return this before I hex your bollocks off and curse you out for invading my privacy again. You know how I can be about these things,  dear . 

Contents: Magical Theory notes. May also feature crafting with runes, references to Divination the real stuff not that nonsensical drivel Trelawney spouts , and other such nonsense. Prank ideas, once again featuring Moony and Lils against Padfoot and Prongs. (see also: Wizarding Schools Potion Championship of 1977 Prep Notes)

It was not for the first time that Harry mourned the loss of his mother as he put the final journal back in its home. From what he could tell, just from these short snippets, his mum was brilliant, vicious, and had a wicked sense of humor. She was everything Petunia never was and he loved her. He wished he knew if she would love him, too. He made a mental note to ask Remus about the Championship as well, curious to know what that was about. Also, who were Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs?  

As he climbed the ladder of his new loft and crawled into the bed, he returned to his earlier musings. 

He had spent two years waiting to be whisked away into a world of magic he knew he belonged in, and here he was. Tomorrow, Remus, the trust-worthy wolf-man, would be taking him to Gringotts. 

Tomorrow, he would be entering the wizarding world for the first time again since he was a baby. 

The blanket he slept under ran rather thin and the room was tall and airy, but Harry felt warm for the first time as he fell asleep. 

—

Elsewhere, magic stirred. 

A house-elf returned to her quarters and met with a circle of others. A language thought dead was spoken once again. 

A centaur stood in a peaceful clearing, staring up at the night sky. The stars had changed since the night before, but the centaur could no longer read the path they were on. They returned to their patrol, knowing their part would not come to play for many years longer. Until then, they would serve their duty as the star’s ambassador. 

On an island in a near-forgotten isle, a thin, black dog looked up from his position. He felt an inner warmth for a split second, long enough to help him regain his bearings and give him clarity of mind, if only for a moment. 

His name: Sirius Black. 

Right now, he was Padfoot.

He was framed for the murder of one of his ex-best friends, and the betrayal of two dead ones. 

He was in Azkaban, serving a life sentence. 

But life was short, and he had no time to mope any longer. Some things remained that needed to be done. 

Padfoot turned to Sirius for the first time in a long time.

Sirius needed to think.  

Chapter Text

Warm rays of colored light shone on Harry’s face, stirring him awake early the next morning. For a single moment, he was confused. After remembering the events of the night prior, a true smile then graced his face. 

The morning’s warmth flooded the loft, its large windows providing ample space for the sunbeams to shine through. It was warm and inviting, though perhaps that could be due to the candles he forgot to extinguish last night. Oops. He clapped twice, and the flames disappeared with a single whoosh . 

Today, he and Remus were going to Gringotts. They were going to get some money, and hopefully find some more things from his parents in their vaults. Hopefully, they’d go shopping afterwards. Harry was never one for shopping, for Petunia would generally use him as a pack mule, but he hoped he could convince Remus into adding some life to the cottage. Not to mention, he never was a fan of wearing Dudley’s old rags. They did better as blankets than they did clothing for him.

Before Remus brought him to The Wolf’s Den, they stopped at the Dursleys first. Petunia all but shoved Harry in his arms. When Remus asked if he wanted to take anything, Harry declined. All he had were Dudley’s old clothes and a shameful cot in the corner. The only thing he wanted to do was say goodbye to Basta, the snake that had kept him company when he would tend to the garden. Basta did not want to come for he was hoping to make moves on a lovely adder deeper in the woods but wished Harry the best of luck. 

Climbing down from the sleeping area, Harry found a neatly folded pile of clothes near the trap door and changed into them. Remus must have put them there before he also went to sleep. It was just a plain black shirt and smart brown trousers, but they were a bit loose on the waist. He wasn’t to complain though, for they were still better than anything of Dudley’s.

There was no clock in the loft, but he guessed it was just around sunrise. The vines around the windows leaned away from the morning rays of sunlight and emitted a faint fragrance that reminded him of nighttime. The potted and hanging plants were perking up and seemed to dance with the light instead. They seemed like they were waking up, just like him. 

Harry took a moment to look around. He loved moments like this—the crisp quiet that made the world feel still. It was the only time when he could just be Harry.  At the Dursleys, he’d wake up just before dawn to watch the sun climb the sky, after which would signify it was time to start cooking breakfast. In this case, Remus had told him he was not a great cook at all and planned to take Harry to breakfast in the morning, so he had some time to himself for once. 

He walked over to the bookshelf and ran his hands over his mother’s journals. He still didn’t know which one to read first, for he could already tell that a lot of her school notes would go right over his head.  

After some thought, he pulled out the first of her private journals and skipped to the first entry. 

August 23, 1971

Today was my first day in the wizarding world! Mrs. Prince bought Sev and me these journals as a gift, to celebrate going to Hogwarts and learning magic! We went with mum and dad too, but Tuney didn’t want to come and went to the park with her friends instead. I was a little sad, but she’s been really mean to me and even more to Sev so whatever. 

We were going to take the train, but Mrs. Prince took out her wand and summoned the Knight Bus instead! Sev looked really happy when she did it, I guess it makes sense cos he said she doesn’t do magic much these days cos of his dad. Dad whinged about the lack of seat belts on the bus, but he never uses one in the car. I think he was just scared, but it was really fun! 

We got to the Leaky Cauldron, and then Mrs. Prince took us into Diagon Alley. It was so beautiful. Even mum and dad said they’d never seen anything like it before. There were all these shops and we had the best ice cream in the world at a place called Fortescue’s. There were even goblins at the bank, Gringotts. It was the scariest and creepiest bank I’ve ever been in, even though it was all white outside. 

Also, I have a wand now! It’s ten and a quarter long and it’s made of willow and a real unicorn hair core! We also got our books, and mum and dad told me and Sev to pick out two books—each!—as a gift to us. He got a book on potions and defense, and I got one on charms and runes. We’re just going to trade when we’re done with them, so I wonder if that was the point.

The best gift though, was Athena, my new kitten! The owner told us she was about a year old, and I fell in love when I walked in. Mum didn’t want to get any pet at all, but then Mrs. Prince bought Sev an owl, and Dad and I convinced her! She’s as brown as chocolate, and her eyes are so blue. She’s sitting on my legs as I write this.

I can’t wait to start Hogwarts. Sev’s coming over tomorrow morning, so this is all I’ll write for now.

Harry’s eyes were watery at the end of the entry, so he put his mum’s journal back onto the shelf. He wished that he was able to hear this from her own mouth, but he was still grateful for these journals. Up until yesterday, he still thought his parents were nothing but useless drunks. Now he could hear about his mum from something other than Petunia’s hateful rants. 

He looked out the window and saw that the sun had moved much higher into the sky. He was never that fast of a reader anyway. 

He made his way over to the trap door and knocked twice on the corner. Opening it revealed the ladder had unfurled from its pocket of existence and Harry climbed down it. 

He went to the first level’s loo and washed up, then went into the kitchen. Remus was already sitting at the table, a copy of The Daily Prophet in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. He wore a turtleneck sweater with sleeves that were sure to be longer than his arms. His owl, Patroclus, preened at its place on the wooden perch hanging from the ceiling. He cooed at Harry’s entrance, alerting Remus who gave him a warm smile upon making eye contact.  

“Hello Harry, are you all set to go?” he asked, folding up the paper and setting it down. “I heard you walking about rather early, I hope you slept well.”

“Oh, I normally wake up around sunrise,” Harry said with nonchalance. “I like the quiet. I slept just fine though, it was really comfortable!” 

Remus’ eyes crinkled a bit at the corners, and he took one final sip of tea before standing up. 

“I suppose we should go, then. We’ll be taking the Floo, so let’s walk to the fireplace, shall we?” 

They made their way over to the sitting room where the fireplace was. Harry took one last look around the room. It was still as dreary as it was the first time he saw it. He’d have to remind Remus to get some decorations when they were out. Maybe a nice painting of a dragon or something like that would do. 

Before anything, Remus pulled a dark baseball cap off the mantel and passed it to Harry. He remembered Remus told him about the significance of the scar on his forehead, but he’d honestly forgotten all about it. He hadn’t thought about his scar in years before now. He made sure the cap was secure, and then gave Remus a nod.

“Using the Floo is simple, all you have to do is get in, and then clearly state your destination as you drop the powder on the ground,” Remus explained. He grabbed a handful of the powder and stepped into the firebox. 

“Make sure you keep your elbows tucked in, and that you’ve grabbed a healthy scoop full of it. We’ll be going in through the Addition Alley entrance, which means that I’ll be seeing you at The Chamber Pot!”  

Remus stated the last part of his sentence with a strong emphasis and was whisked into a whirl of cool green fire. 

Harry blinked. That looked easy enough. 

He grabbed a sizable scoop of the green dust and stepped into the fireplace. His elbows tucked in accordingly, he dropped the powder and called out, “The Chamber Pot!” 

It was very disorienting to go through the Floo. The only thought he had as he spun through and saw flashes of different hearths was that he didn’t like the Floo much at all. 

It spat him out onto a wooden floor, where he was ushered onto his feet by Remus. 

“Alright there, Harry?” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, James never quite got the hang of it either. Even after we graduated he was still stumbling out of Floos.” 

Harry’s first impression of The Chamber Pot was that it had an unfortunate name for such a quaint little tavern. On either side of him were two more fireplaces, where an occasional patron would pop out. He noticed that each one had two bowls on each mantel when Remus fished out a bronze coin from his trouser pockets and tossed them in one of the bowls. 

“The Chamber Pot is a tavern in Addition Alley with special dispensation from the Ministry to offer a public Floo service,” Remus explained, following Harry’s gaze. “You can leave a donation, a knut will generally cover a round trip on the Floo, but some people leave more for others to use.”

His second impression was that there was a lot of magic here. Every patron had a whirl of magic around them, as did the plants. In the stone walls, he could see which bricks were there from the original construction, and which ones were repaired or replaced over time with magic. Blinking a couple of times, he waited for his mind to filter out the mess of clouds and orbs as it usually would. 

“We’ll eat quickly here, and then pop over to Gringotts,” Remus continued, showing Harry up to a seat at the wooden bar. A kind woman was stout and had great muscles and gave them a warm smile while she polished the glass in her hands. Harry thought that she could snap it in two in a clean break. “Two of your classic morning plates, please, and we’ll take two cups of tea.”

“Comin’ right up, dears,” the barwoman said and walked into the kitchen. She hopped off a platform as she did this, and Harry saw that without it she was of equal height to the bar. With her slight accent as well, could she have been—

“Dwarves are real indeed, Harry,” Remus grinned, having followed his line of sight and thinking. “No, they don’t always have the accent. Georgie just happens to come from a Scottish band of dwarves. Muggle folklore often originates from the times when we lived in conjunction with muggles, so you’ll continue to see some cross-over in our lore as you stay in the wizarding world.” 

Harry wondered if werewolves could read minds. Remus always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. 

A steaming kettle of water, a small jug of milk, and a dish of sugar cubes popped into existence between Remus and Harry. Two cups with a bag of tea appeared in front of them as well, one in front of each wizard. Remus poured them some water and waited for his tea to steep before adding his dash of milk and two sugars. Harry watched for a second and decided to do the same, though he missed Remus’ sigh of relief. 

Georgie the dwarf lady came back shortly with their meals, which were not as good as the dinner from Hogwarts was, but still better than anything at the Dursleys. Harry thought that if magic made all food taste good like this, then he would surely never go back to living with the muggles. He didn’t miss the chill that brushed the back of his neck but continued to eat his breakfast anyway. 

Remus and Georgie talked for a bit. Harry picked up tidbits of their conversation, but they were mostly talking about things Harry didn’t know about. When they were done with their meals, Remus gave Georgie a gold coin and told him to add it to his tab. She took it with a nod. 

“Georgie’s really nice because she gets that some of her clients can’t pay with silver and has running tabs for them,” Remus explained as they walked out of the tavern. “Now, Addition Alley isn’t quite as flashy as Diagon is, but it’s a new neighborhood that’s only come about in the last thirty or so years.” 

Harry tuned the rest of what he was saying out because he was suddenly engrossed by a brilliant tidal wave of orbs, webs, and clouds. There was so much magic . The hairs on the back of his neck raised. 

For a second he was blinded—there was nothing but magic. They took on the shape of people and buildings, but he couldn’t swim through the details just yet. After another second, he was convinced he would be blind forever, and he would never get to see Addition Alley for what it truly was. As of right now, Harry was drowning in magic. 

“You alright there, Harry?” Remus asked, steadying Harry by the shoulders. 

He blinked. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“I think I just need a second, there’s a lot of magic,” Harry stammered out. He missed whatever Remus’ response would have been.

The magic started fading slowly. Addition Alley started to punch through the illusion in his brain, and the buildings began to form. It was wider than expected. Cobblestone roads lay underneath their feet, the cracks in the stone pulled together not by grout—but by interweaving webs of magic. Most of the alley shone with a sheen of magic regardless, so he was not surprised. 

There were shops and a few more eateries along the road. Some of the shops also featured additional wares outside, adding to the general liveliness of the street. There weren’t any streetlights, but rather floating lanterns and what looked like Christmas lights stringing the lanterns together. To their left was an imposing marble building that he assumed was the Gringotts they were going to. 

To Harry’s surprise, there were just as many non-humans in Addition Alley as there were humans. Quite a number of people had shades of dark brown webs either clouding over or merging with the other colors of their magic. Directly in front of them at Eternals Books and More , a tall family with said brown magic stood perusing the outside selection. Harry thought they were probably werewolves. That was until the teen girl laughed out loud at a book cover and he saw the glint of sharp fangs in her mouth. 

Vampires. 

Wicked.

“I’m all set to go, Remus,” he said. He was eager to see the rest of the alley and knew they wouldn’t be doing that until their first stop at Gringotts was completed.

“Wonderful—now just to let you know, I don’t have the key for your account,” Remus warned. “They’re going to ask you to do a blood test, which is just a prick on your thumb and a few drops of blood. Are you going to be okay with that?” 

“I’ll be okay, just as long as they don’t try to take my arm or anything,” Harry replied with a grin.

Remus grinned back at him and led Harry to Gringotts. The building’s entrance had wide marble steps leading up to it and large pillars on either side. 

They walked inside where there were a few humans and one hooded figure that Harry was sure just tucked a scaly tail into its robes. On top of that, each bank teller was a goblin. They all looked different but shared the same vicious energy. If Harry wasn’t sure he was in the magical world before, he definitely was now. 

“Hello, we’re here to visit Harry Potter’s vault,” Remus said in hushed but stern tones. “We don’t have a key. Mr. Potter is willing to do a blood test to confirm his identity.”

The goblin at the till stared emotionlessly at them and pushed over a small disk with a needle sticking out of the middle. He looked at the duo expectantly. When Harry looked at Remus, all he got was a reassuring smile. Harry figured that was his cue, and pricked his left thumb on the needle. A few droplets of blood landed on the disk as he pulled his finger away and began to glow red, then orange, and then faded to a light yellow as it dissipated. 

Remus whispered something and waved his wand over Harry’s thumb. His skin had no trace of blood or a cut. Looking back at the teller, Harry was surprised to see a toothy grin spread on his face. He didn’t realize how sharp a goblin’s teeth were. He wondered if that was because of the magic, or the sight of blood.

“Welcome back, Mr. Potter,” said the goblin. “Gringotts is happy to see your return in the flesh. How may we help you today?” 

“We’d like to take a look at the Potter vaults, and Harry here would like to see if his parents left their wills to be read in them,” Remus answered. 

“Then please wait here for a moment while I retrieve the account manager for the Potter accounts.” 

The goblin hopped off his stool and scurried away to a door behind him. A couple of minutes later, he returned with another goblin clad in leather armor. He didn’t look like a bank employee at all. 

“Mr. Potter, it is an honor to be working with your family again,” greeted the goblin. “My name is Griphook, the Potter Account Manager. I’m assuming you’re here to claim your inheritance?” 

Harry raised an eyebrow. He looked at Remus, who was nodding his head. 

“Yes,” Harry said, hoping it sounded less like a question than it was. 

“Then, please follow me this way,” said Griphook. 

He led them through an ornate doorway. They walked down a long hallway, where a series of moving portraits of goblins were hanging on each wall. Remus stood behind Harry, but he still felt like he wasn’t exactly safe here. For some reason, he couldn’t see the magic of Gringotts. The only magic Harry could pick up on was the familiar brown ring around the dark red cloud around Griphook. 

He led them into a large office where a tall stack of papers sat on the desk. Harry had the inkling those papers were unfortunately for him. 

“Please take a seat,” Griphook said, gesturing the two to the plush wooden chairs in front of his desk. They did as shown, and Griphook took his own seat on a slightly taller chair behind the desk. He pulled the first paper off the stack, skimmed it, and looked back at Harry. 

“Thank you for your patronage, Mr. Potter,” Griphook stated. “We at Gringotts have been honored to serve the Potter lineage for generations, and are happy to see the return of the heir. May I ask for your age, Mr. Potter?” 

“I’m eight,” Harry said with pride. It was the oldest he’d ever been. 

Griphook’s smile faltered. 

“Well, you can at least claim the official title of Heir—though you are young. Normally the title doesn’t get claimed until eleven. Regardless of when you choose to do so, at seventeen, you may become Lord Potter.” 

Harry’s eyes widened. Was he a whole lord ? Remus never mentioned that part. 

“What will come with being Lord Potter?” he asked eagerly. “Do I get secret Potter magic? Will I go to fancy balls? Do I get my own castle?”

Remus snorted next to him. 

The goblin looked at Harry blankly. 

“Lord Potter is just a title, it comes with no real benefits. You will only be referred to as Lord Potter in official communications, though you could choose to use it as your moniker if you like. If you choose to take the family seat on the Wizengamot when you are seventeen, you will be addressed as Lord Potter there with the other lords and ladies. There is no family magic that would come with the title, as family magic is bequeathed upon you at birth. The Potters did not own a castle, though there are plenty of other smaller pieces of land that they owned alongside Potter Manor in Scotland.”  

Harry thought Griphook was a very good account manager. He still had a few questions, but he figured that was just in his nature by now. Joining an established magical world wasn’t going to be as easy as he dreamed about. 

“Is there anything else that we can do right now, then?” Remus interjected. “We were hoping to ask about the status of James and Lily’s wills.” 

Griphook made a face. Harry had yet to figure out what goblin expressions meant, but he could tell there was some indignation in this one.

“The wills of Mr. and Mrs. Potter were meant to be read years ago,” he growled out. “Do you mean to tell me that they never were?” 

Remus’ nose twitched in anger. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before addressing Griphook again.

“Never. During that time, I was in arguments with Dumbledore and the Ministry about the right to their bodies. I managed to convince Dumbledore to bury them in the family crypt at Potter Manor and we had a separate funeral for them at Hogwarts.” He looked somewhat sheepish at this point. “I guess during the midst of all that, I just forgot about their wills. It wasn’t until last night I found out they were never read in the end, thanks to Minerva McGonagall.”

Harry patted Remus’ arm after that. He doubted his parents, whom Remus talked about with such love, would be all too upset with him. Judging from his and the professor’s conversation last night, there was a lot more to everything than it seemed. All Harry knew was that he didn’t blame Remus for whatever may have happened back then. In the end, Remus was the first adult who had done right by Harry in a very long time.  

Griphook let out a sigh, and then a slight snarl. 

“It is not due to any fault of your own, Mr. Lupin,” Griphook said. “As per wizarding law, any wizard or witch who leaves a will in Gringotts will do so with the security that Gringotts will forward a copy to the Ministry at the time of their death, and they will have the duty to honor and execute it. While we at Gringotts have done our part, it seems that your Ministry is once again to blame.”

It was Remus who growled this time. Harry watched in wonder as Remus’ cocoa brown magic flared, though the rest of his magic stayed still. Interesting.

“Well, is there anything we can do about it now?” he asked, then gesturing to Harry. “I mean, as the heir of the household, couldn’t he request a will reading?” 

Griphook’s lips curled viciously into an approving smile. “If Mr. Potter chose to claim his title now, he will officially be recognized as the future Lord Potter. If the future Lord Potter were to request a viewing of his parents’ original wills, then we at Gringotts would be honored to accommodate the request of such a long-standing client.” 

Harry wasn’t quite sure how adults worked sometimes, but he was well aware of how business went. Long hours spent locked in the cupboard during Vernon’s business dinners and parties had him well acquainted with the tonal language of suggestion. From the tone of Griphook’s voice, Harry decided that he had a very good account manager. 

“I’ll do it, and we’ll read my parents’ wills,” Harry said firmly. He wasn’t going to admit that he didn’t really know the point of a will this far in, but it seemed it was well worth the fight. 

“Wonderful,” Griphook grinned. It wasn’t like the playful grins on Remus’ face, but there was an eerie sense of malice in this one. Harry refused to back down. “It will require just a drop of your blood to confirm your identity as Harry Potter, and then we can move on.” 

Griphook opened a drawer on his side of the desk and pulled out a similar disk and needle contraption to before. He slid it over to the center of the desk, and then looked expectantly at Harry. 

Harry looked over at Remus, who was only a bit weary now. He nodded in reassurance.

He supposed there was no backing down now. He wondered if perhaps, things were moving a bit too fast. After all, only yesterday he met Remus, and now he was letting him be dragged around a creepy bank and giving blood to strangers? He thought of what Petunia would say.

Then, he jabbed the thumb of his right hand onto the needle. 

He never cared what Petunia thought anyway. 

As soon as the blood made contact with the dish, it glowed in a similar fashion to before fading away. 

“Congratulations, Mr. Potter,” said Griphook. “You are indeed Mr. Harry James Potter.”

He reached back into the drawer and pulled out a small jewelry box this time. Opening it revealed a single golden ring fashioned like Greek olive leaves. Each leaf was etched with a rune, and a thin black line of obsidian streamed through the center of the band. 

It sang with magic. 

Harry was enthralled. He reached for the ring and put it on his right ring finger. The room was engulfed with a bright golden light and the screech of an unknown creature before it disappeared as quickly as it came. The occupants of the room were left blinking the orbs in their vision away for a long moment. Harry didn’t think that sound would leave his head for a while.

It was Remus who broke the silence. “I’m assuming that means Harry’s good to go?” 

Griphook waved his hand in a motion, and a horn dropped down from the ceiling. He muttered into it and tugged it downwards to send it shooting back up. 

“The Potter wills are being brought to us at this moment. There are three different ones—one to be read in the event of Mr. Potter’s death, one for Mrs. Potter’s, and one to be read if Mr. and Mrs. Potter was to pass at the same time. They owled in the third a couple of weeks before their passing, and it is for that reason we will be reading that one. Upon the reveal of its contents, Gringotts would be happy to execute it in lieu of the Ministry.” His eyes shone with a glint of opportunity. “We will be charging a flat fee of ten galleons for the service.” 

Remus rolled his eyes, but Harry was getting the idea that this is how business with goblins worked. He didn’t know how much money he had yet, but he was sure Griphook wouldn’t offer that unless he could cover it.

A few moments later there was a knock on the door. Another goblin walked in holding a small box and placed it on Griphook’s desk. The goblin reached in and unraveled a small scroll. Griphook pulled out a roll of parchment and a quill which began dictating the date and time. Given the nod, the other goblin began to speak. 

“Solicitor Jortusk presiding over the reading of the joint will belonging to James and Lily Potter. Serving as witness is the Potter account manager, Griphook. Done at the request of Harry James Potter.” 

Harry watched Remus clenching at the sides of the chair. He couldn’t blame him. 

“Upon the events of our untimely deaths, we, James Fleamont Potter and Lily Juniper Potter, hereby bequeath the estate of the Potter family to our heir in blood and magic, Harry James Potter. If he is seventeen at this time, the title of Lord Potter is his to claim, though it is not required. If he is not seventeen, then the estate shall be managed by his guardian until he is of age. In addition, the Potter trust is open to usage by Harry’s guardian to cover what may be needed during his care.”  

Jortusk’s brow raised as he read the next part of the will. “This will shall only be read under very specific circumstances. If James and Lily Potter are to die while under Fidelius, then let it be known the keeper of that secret is currently Peter Pettigrew. As of the conception of this will, on October 13th, 1981, Sirius Orion Black was relieved of his duty as the secret keeper. If we are to die after this change comes, then it was Peter Pettigrew who has betrayed our secret.” 

Harry heard a snap. 

When he looked over, the armrests of Remus’ chair had splintered in two. Harry wondered just how strong Remus really was. 

“My apologies,” he mumbled sheepishly. “Please, continue.”

Griphook shook his head in disapproval, though Jortusk looked on with amusement. Harry felt quite the same as the latter goblin. 

“If we are to die under Fidelius, Harry Potter is to reside with his godfather, Sirius Orion Black. If Sirius is unavailable, then he is to go to his godmother, Alice Longbottom. If not Alice, then the chain of custody shall go in this order: Remus Lupin—yes, we know he’s a werewolf and no, we do not care—, Minerva McGonagall, and finally, Andromeda Tonks. Under no circumstances should Harry be sent to Petunia Dursley, or any muggle family. At this time, Harry has already shown stronger signs of accidental magic than found in most children. It is for everyone’s safety that Harry Potter stays in the magical world.” 

Jortusk rolled the scroll up and then put it back in the box. Remus looked like he was about to turn into a wolf right there.

Harry wasn’t quite sure what to do now. He didn’t understand the last part of the will, though definitely understood the last part. He was never meant to go to the Dursleys at all. His parents cared for him enough to know not to send him to them—the most hateful people Harry’s ever encountered. His heart fluttered a bit.

“It seems that the Ministry has quite a few things to answer for,” Griphook said gravely. “On behalf of Gringotts, we will be sending a goblin representative to the Ministry’s DMLE in light of this information. I am sure that Madam Bones will know what to do going forward. Now, before we begin the conversation of the Potter vaults and their contents, let me offer you some tea.” 

He tapped on his desk thrice with his knuckles, and then a tea set with two golden cups appeared in front of Harry and Remus. 

Remus took a cup for himself and prepared the tea to his liking. He still hadn’t said a word. Harry watched his creature magic flare up again, though this time the rest of his magic did too. He took a second to admire Remus’ superb control of himself. Though perhaps the chair he’s sitting on wouldn’t think so.

They let Remus drink his tea in silence. Harry hoped he appreciated it. Eventually, he put his cup down on the set and looked up at Griphook. 

“We’ll be in further contact about the case of Sirius Black,” Remus said with conviction. “Please feel free to owl Remus Lupin at The Wolf’s Den for any further communications regarding Sirius. As for right now, being that we’re here for Harry, we’d love to go down to the Potter vaults and withdraw some money for our trip today.” 

“Wonderful,” Griphook agreed. He seemed like he appreciated Remus’ practicality. “Until Mr. Potter turns seventeen, he only has access to the trust vault. However, due to the miscarriage of justice the Potter family has faced, Gringotts would be happy to move all the personal belongings found in the aftermath of Godric’s Hollow to the trust, free of charge.” 

“That’s fine with us,” Remus agreed. “We appreciate the kindness Gringotts has shown to us today, along with your assistance in helping us uncover the truth of Sirius Black. I look forward to your correspondence regarding his case.” 

Griphook smiled. Harry didn’t think this was a true smile, but something that had to do with Sirius Black. He wondered what kind of story there was behind the man, his supposed godfather. Other than that he was an old friend who ended up doing some bad things, Remus had not mentioned him in anything other than passing. He wondered where he was now.

“We will keep you updated on the happenings of Sirius Black, though it may take some time before his innocence comes to light.” Griphook sounded a little grim as he said this, but Harry didn’t think much of it. He didn’t want to entertain the thought of his godfather—whom he didn’t know he had until five minutes ago— being taken away before he even got to meet him. 

Griphook knocked on the side of his desk once. Immediately, a knock responded at the door. 

Harry hated to admit it, but at this point, he was a little exhausted. He was very aware that it was only a couple of hours until noon, but he was feeling the need for a nap. Banking and business were not quite his cup of tea. It really brought down the joy and whimsy of the magical world. He hoped this meant they would be going down to the vault because at least that would see them out of this room. 

“Good, they have a cart ready now.” Griphook stood at once and began to take them out of the room. Instead of the marble hallway from before, this hallway had stone walls and flaming torches for light. 

Harry was bewildered, but noticed Remus was not. He supposed interplanar teleportation was just a normal thing around here then. 

He walked the two of them back down the hallway and into what looked like the entrance to a miniature train station. Instead of trains, though, there were enchanted mine carts with goblin writing etched onto the sides. 

Harry saw five carts, each on a different track that seemed to go in every direction at least once. He recalled what the professor asked him the night before about roller coasters and got very excited. From the look of Remus, who had an expression of dread and acceptance, he was not a fan at all. Harry thought he didn’t look like the type to enjoy one. 

Griphook ushered them onto a cart and pulled a lever that shot them onto the tracks. They went through turns and loops, and a series of upside-down twists that had Remus nearly bending the metal of the cart. Eventually, they screeched to a stop in front of a vault door and got out of the cart. 

“After we return upstairs, this key is yours, Mr. Potter,” said Griphook. 

He took the bronze key out of his pocket and turned it into the lock. With a click , the door opened to reveal the shining interior of the Potter vault. Mounds of gold, silver, and bronze coins lay decorated the cavern floor. Harry noticed a small trunk near the entrance of the vault, opened to show the contents inside. It was the first thing he went for. 

Inside the trunk was mostly junk. He heard Remus and Griphook talking behind him and the sound of coins clinking as they were tossed into a pouch. There was an array of jewelry and a small collection of books. Most important to him, however, were two photos found deep in the trunk. 

One photo looked like his parents on their wedding day. It moved, showing the two of them clinking their glasses together before sharing a sweet kiss and waving at the camera. It occurred to him then, that he didn’t think he’d ever seen a picture of them before. His father looked a lot like him, but his mum was possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The photo was faded, but he could see that the green eyes he’d always loved were from her. 

He let a single tear drop onto the photo. 

The other was of his parents, again, but this time his mum was holding a bundle of what looked like baby Harry. There was only a scruff of black hair from underneath the blanket, but the looks of pure endearment on James and Lily’s faces could not be missed. In this photo, they were smiling down at him, before a large black dog shoved his snout in between his parents to look at Harry, as well. He wondered if that was their dog, and what had happened to him if he was.

He put the photos back in the trunk and latched the lid back on tight. 

“Remus, can we take this, too?” he asked, pointing at the trunk. “I think this is the stuff from the other vaults.” 

Remus responded with a wave of his wand which shrunk the trunk into the size of a matchbox. Harry put it inside his pocket. 

“All set to go, then?” Remus asked, now coming over to Harry. He had a small coin pouch in his hands that he stuffed into his own pocket. “I hope James and Lily don’t mind me using some of this today. I know they wouldn’t, especially since this is all for you, but it still makes me feel pretty bad.”

“I’m sure they won’t mind, Remus,” Harry conceded. “Especially if they saw what your house looked like right now. It’s very sad if you didn’t know.” 

Remus’ nose twitched in the way Harry was learning was annoyance, but not anger. 

“I am very aware of the state of my cottage, thank you, Harry,” Remus drawled. His tone was almost mocking, though Harry wasn’t sure if he was the one being mocked. “Let’s get going now. Perhaps we’ll find a nice plant or something when we’re out in the town.” 

They began walking out of the vault when a thought occurred to Harry. 

“Remus, none of the plants at home are even alive. Are you sure you want to get another plant just to kill it?” 

This time, it was Griphook’s laugh that could be heard over the creak of the closing vault door. 

— 

Chapter Text

Harry tied his vault key tight around his neck. 

Remus made sure his cap was still on. He messed with Harry’s bangs a bit, covering the entirety of Harry’s scar. Griphook handed Remus the He then gave Griphook a nod farewell. Harry knew the two would remain in touch. 

They left the bank, having withdrawn some money and new belongings. By now, it was about noon, and the sun peaked high in the sky. Walking down the alley was much easier this time. Harry had grown accustomed to the sheer amount of magic around him now. He also felt ignoring it was best because trying to focus on all the magic around gave him a headache. 

“Well, Harry, I suppose I am your honorary guardian,” Remus said, looking a bit chuffed. Harry supposed it was nice to be chosen first on his parents’ list after his godparents. “In that case, I should ensure we use this responsibly.” 

At this, Remus got a very roguish look on his face. It screamed of mischief, and there was a slight twinkle in his eye that Harry thought to be magic. A youth in his eyes glimmered unlike a second before. Harry thought Remus looked very charming with this expression. He’d like to see more of it. 

“However, I’ve missed about seven years of gifts. I wouldn’t be the fun uncle if I didn’t celebrate your most momentous return to our magical world. Whatever you want to buy, feel free. I’ll make sure we stay within our budget and get a good deal.”

Remus finished that with a wink. 

Harry got the hint. 

“Before that though, we’re going to the lens store and getting you some new glasses. These will come with all sorts of enchantments you’ll love and it will only take up half an hour.” 

They walked for a moment until Harry saw the blue awning of Gertrude’s Glimmering Galorium. Through the clear glass windows, Harry could see a platform filled with glass lens items. Not only were there glasses, but she also sold cameras, telescopes, and a strange-looking device that looked like a flower bud. 

The chime of a songbird went off as Remus opened the door and let Harry walk in. 

“Hello, friends!” said the woman at the counter. Harry assumed she was Gertrude. She was tall and had thick dark hair tied up in a loose bun. She had a deep umber complexion and dark black robes. With all the reflections bouncing around in the store, Harry thought she resembled the night sky. It also helped that her magic was mostly silver, with some parts being a bit pink and some yellow.

“I’m Gertie, what can I do for you today?” she asked in a cheerful tone. 

“Hello, Gertie,” Remus greeted. “My name is Remus, and this is Harr—ison. We’re here for a new set of glasses. I’ve heard you do some of the best glass-blowing and enchanting around here.” 

Gertie’s eyes lit up with pride. “Well, thank you, it’s always a treasure to hear that from someone. When was the last time Harrison’s gotten his eyes checked?” 

Harry went a bit sheepish at this, though Remus intervened well on his behalf. 

“Harrison’s been staying with some muggle relatives until recently, so he’s never had a magical eye exam before. It’ll be his first time.” 

“Oh, no worries, dear!” Gertie gushed. “I’ve no reason to make you nervous. Why don’t you come up onto the counter and we’ll get you sorted, yeah? Let me just get my things.”

Gertie went into the back and an immediate clatter was heard. Harry and Remus both ignored it politely. Harry climbed onto the counter and then glared at Remus. 

“Harrison?” He deadpanned. “You really couldn’t think of a better name?” 

Remus had the decency to look guilty. “I forgot to think of a fake name before, honestly. It’s not like it mattered in Gringotts.” 

Harry gave him that. 

Gertie returned with a box and set it down next to Harry. She took his glasses off and brought out a contraption that looked somewhat like scissors, but instead of blades had a series of different lenses of different sizes that could be swapped at ease. Harry couldn’t even begin to comprehend it. 

She put the tool away and stared right into his eyes. 

Harry didn’t blink. 

Neither did Gertie. 

He didn’t know how long he could keep his eyes open, but she broke it with a final wave of her wand. 

Reaching into her box, Gertie rummaged around until she pulled out a pair of thin-framed glasses.

“Put these on, it’ll give me a reading.” 

Harry did as such, not without noting the tiny runes engraved into the metal frame. Putting the frames on didn’t change his vision at all, though he immediately noticed the magic around him had almost disappeared. There was a relief in his brain that he hadn’t had in years, ever since he first began to see magic. 

He looked at Gertie in awe, only to see her waiting with a cheeky grin.

“You’ve got mage-sight, don'tcha kid?” she smirked. 

Remus looked up from browsing the telescopes, jaw dropped in shock. 

“I figured. Your eyes are clouded with magic. I can craft you a simple pair of lenses to help you see to your prescription right now, but I’ll need a few hours to carve the runes into the frames you get if you want the ones to help with the mage-sight.”

Remus looked like he wanted to ask a million questions. 

Harry only wanted to ask one. 

“Could I get a pair like the ones I have now?” he asked. “I like the circles, they remind me of the sun and the moon.” 

Gertie laughed, which sounded a bit like the songbird from when the door opened. 

“No problem, dearie.” She looked at Remus now, who had gotten over his initial shock. “I’ll give you two the premium enchantments, just since it’s been a while since I’ve gotten to do those runes again. Happy to have an unusual customer—always gives me the most fun jobs.” 

“Thank you, we appreciate it,” Remus said. “How long do you suppose the job will take?” 

“About ten minutes for the regular frames, and since it’s right about noon, why don’t you come back right around five to pick up the other pair.” Gertie put all her tools back in her box and pulled out a journal. She wrote down what seemed to be their order, and looked back at Remus. 

“It’ll cost about twenty sickles for a regular pair, but the enchanted one’s going to run you up a galleon.” Gertie winked with a flourish. “You are paying for my services, after all. As long as you come back every year to update your prescription, those glasses won’t break, fog, or even smudge.” 

Harry hopped off the counter and gave her a grand smile. Honestly, this might have been the greatest gift magic’s given to him so far. He loved seeing it, but that was when it was just on an owl or Mrs. Figg’s kneazles, or in the cracks of Remus’ cottage. Addition Alley was a bit much for him at this moment. Maybe he’d find a way to control it one day, but he’d think about that another time. 

For now, he watched Remus finish paying Gertie, and they looked at some of the other gadgets in the story while she enchanted his new pair of glasses. He wondered if they should get a camera. Petunia used to love making Vernon and Dudley dress up for holiday photoshoots, and hung them up around the house. Harry always hated them but hoped they could do that to liven up The Wolf’s Den. Perhaps, if anything, he could ask if he could take a picture of Remus as a werewolf and they could hang it on the fireplace. 

Harry’s musings were interrupted when Gertie called out that she finished his glasses. He walked over and received the new frames which felt light in his hands. There was a bright layer of pink magic settling around the lenses and metal. He took off his current pair and put the new ones on instead. 

Instantly, he knew something was off. 

“Remus, I can see the lines on your hands!” Harry exclaimed. Remus raised an eyebrow in response. Harry heard Gertie suppress a chuckle.

“Yes, that’s typically how sight works.” Remus frowned and tilted his head, almost like a dog would—or a wolf. “Have you ever been able to see this clearly, Harry?” 

Harry looked around, amazed at the detail of the world. Gertie’s eyes were not only kind but deep-set and grey like the sky. Remus had strands of grey hidden in his tawny hair, and he was in need of a little shave. There were small knitted details in his sweater, and Gertie’s robes had a slight sheen of leather to them—they were not just a dark black void. The wood framing of her shop had grain, and the leaves of her plants were not clumped, but individual leaves. 

“I don’t think the muggles could have ever invented something to see with this much detail, Remus,” Harry admitted. “It feels like I’m looking through three pairs of glasses at once!” 

Gertie puffed up at that. 

“Well, not really, but I make sure all the glass made in the shop is made to the highest of quality,” she said. “There won’t be any glass coming out of the back if it has any sort of fault.” 

“Well, I can certainly see that,” Harry grinned. He wondered if he looked as roguish and wolf-like as Remus did before. 

Remus held his face in his hands. Gertie laughed again, sounding ever more like the songbird. Harry wondered what that was about. 

“You truly are your father’s son,” Remus sighed and clapped Harry’s shoulder. “Well, thank you very much for your time, Gertie. Harrison and I will be back at five to pick up the second pair.” 

“Of course, we’ll see you soon!” she waved. 

The two of them made their way out of the store, and Harry proceeded to look at everything he’d seen before, but all over again. The letters around Gertie’s shop front remained crisp and clear as they walked away, instead of blurring the further he got from it. Even the sky had never been so clear to him. Clouds had much more detail than he had ever thought, and Harry realised then that he could get lost in them. 

“Right on, Harry,” said Remus. “Let’s continue onwards.” 

Remus led Harry through the stores in the alley and treated Harry to the best shopping spree of his life. They picked up a side shoulder leather backpack for Remus to carry, which he enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm. It would carry their wares for the rest of the day. After that, Harry was measured in Mycraft’s Meticulous Mending and commissioned a new wizarding wardrobe for Harry to be picked up in a few hours.

Along the alley, Harry had many questions, and Remus usually answered with a short sentence and then a quick purchase. Remus believed that learning from a book and lecture was a great foundation. He thought the best learning happened with a practical demonstration. This is how they ended up with a new set of beginner’s potions equipment, seedlings for the pots and the garden, and even a brick of clay and carving tools for creating simple runes. They picked up a few books for both Remus and Harry on each subject—at least, ones that Remus did not already own. Harry lit up with excitement, and Remus beamed with joy. 

They also visited a small candy store, where Remus picked up a pack of Sugar Quills and Pumpkin Pasties, and Harry chose a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, and a few sticks of bubblegum that would blow real bubbles. 

After their last purchase, it was only a couple of hours after noon. Harry was beginning to get a bit peckish now and told Remus as such. 

“Then we can get some lunch, or perhaps some ice cream if you’d like?” Remus suggested. “Fortescue’s is in Diagon, right around the corner. Can’t have your first time in the wizarding world without a scoop of his ice cream.” 

“Does he have chocolate?” Harry asked, nodding his head in agreement. “Could we get toppings too? What’s the difference between wizarding ice cream and muggle ice cream?” 

“There isn’t one, really—Fortescue’s just that good at what he does,” Remus laughed. “Come on, now. Diagon’s a bit more crowded than Addition is. Might take you a second to get adjusted, so just let me know. Stick close, and make sure that cap of yours stays on.”

Remus said the last part of that in a stern tone, and Harry knew how serious it was. He saw a copy of the newest Harry Potter book in the general store. It depicted a boy on a broom fighting a dragon, and his novel counterpart’s lightning bolt was a stark caricature of the one actually on Harry’s forehead. It was why he, at this time, appreciated the messiness of his hair. It hid the tree of lightning across the centre-right of his forehead and right upper eye very well. 

“Don’t worry, Remus,” Harry agreed. “I’m pretty good at staying out of sight when I need to be.” 

Remus put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and turned them around the block they were walking on. 

There was an instant change of tone. While Addition Alley was wide and perfect for a stroll, Diagon Alley was a pinch tighter and had a constant flux of movement. There was a concentration of magic wherever people flocked and it took a moment for Harry to adjust. Harry tugged on Remus’ sleeve when he was ready to go. 

Remus led them down the alley, pointing out shops and sharing small stories of each place along the way. 

“Your father and Sirius used to plaster their faces all over the glass whenever a new broom came out,” he said when they passed Quality Quidditch Supplies. “We could pick up a broom for you too if you’d like. There’s plenty of room around the cottage for you to fly if you wish.”

“You can really fly?” Harry gasped. “Like, on a broom? How fast can they go? How high can I fly?” 

“I suppose you’ll have to find out. Let’s go get some ice cream, and then we’ll look at some brooms.” 

They walked into Florean’s parlour and the smell of toasted walnuts overtook Harry’s sense of smell. Florean Fortescue was a kind portly man with a passion for ice cream that Harry thoroughly enjoyed. He sampled many flavours and discussed each one with Remus and Florean. Eventually, he settled on the cardamom and black treacle in a waffle cone while Remus got toffee nut and chocolate chip in a cup topped with crisps. Harry was a little repulsed by the last addition but chose not to say anything out of politeness. They ate their lunch at a table outside, watching the people of Diagon walk by. Thanking Mr. Fortescue, the two finished up and made their way over to Quality Quidditch Supplies. 

Upon entrance, Harry noticed Remus tense up next to him in a way that had him worried. He followed his gaze and saw a tall, beautiful woman at the counter with the sharpest cheekbones he’d ever seen. Her hair was black, with an underlayer of a crisp white. It stood in stark contrast to her fair skin, though a nice compliment paired with her emerald green robes. 

Her magic was strong, and it was a dark violet with strands of pink and silver. Harry wondered what the new colour meant. Now that he knew he had mage-sight, he planned to find some books and hopefully figure out what it all meant. But for now, he wanted to see what would happen with her and Remus.

“Narcissa Malfoy, a pleasure to see you again,” he drawled. Remus sounded rather snooty, and Harry wasn’t a fan. “It’s been some time since your last appearance.” 

The woman named Narcissa turned on her heel to meet Remus’ eyes. She was more than a head shorter than him, but Remus was a very tall man. Even so, her gaze seemed just as deadly. 

“Remus Lupin, charmed,” she spoke. There was no charm Harry detected in her voice. “I suppose it has, though my son Draco has recently shown a very powerful grasp of his magic. I thought it best to reward such a show of magic with a gift, and he’s quite a gifted flyer.” 

“Much like his mother, I suppose?” Remus quipped. “I do recall you being quite the spitfire on the Slytherin Quidditch team my first couple years at Hogwarts.” 

“Indeed,” she sniffed. “And what brings you back to our world, Mr. Lupin? It’s been about four years since we’ve run into each other. Though, I am sure you have missed those run-ins about as much as I have.” 

With the venom that dripped from her voice, Harry took that to mean “not at all.” His head moved back and forth following the quick conversation as best as he could. He was deeply curious as to what sort of history these two may have had. He wondered if this Narcissa woman was perhaps, an old flame, as Petunia would have said. 

“Just running some errands today,” Remus said, gesturing to Harry. “A friend has asked me to watch her child for the day, so I took him along. He’s been very patient so I thought it’d be nice to take him to look at some brooms.” 

Narcissa Malfoy raised one of her perfect eyebrows at Harry. Her gaze was strong, like an eagle’s, and raised the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck. Narcissa Malfoy was dangerous , and he was very interested in why. For a single moment, he thought the ruse was up. Her pale blue eyes pierced through Harry’s own and it made him feel exposed. 

“I see,” Narcissa said finally. “Boys and their brooms, what else should I have expected?”

With perfect timing, the shop owner returned to the counter with a long package sealed in a sleek green and silver wrapper. He seemed not to notice the tension built up in the room as he rang up Narcissa for her purchase. Harry and Remus moved to the side, Harry looking at brooms while Remus kept a watch on Mrs. Malfoy. 

“It was a surprise to see you, Mr. Lupin,” she said, shrinking the package and tucking it into her robes. “I give you and your charge the best of wishes, but I must get going.” 

“Thank you, Narcissa,” Remus responded, stepping in front of Harry. “Give my regards to Lucius, will you?” 

Narcissa flinched and opened the door to the shop, walking out with her robes billowing behind her. 

At her departure, Remus seemed to lose all the cool bravado he just had. Instead, he gave Harry a grave look and looked back in the direction Narcissa had left in. 

“The Malfoys are a very dangerous family, Harry,” he warned. “They did some things during the war that just couldn’t be forgiven, and Narcissa has worked overtime to clean up their record since. But I, and many others, still remember their crimes.” 

“Then why would you speak to her?” Harry asked, scanning the Cleansweep Six in front of him. 

“Narcissa and I have a mutual history that we share varying levels of concern about,” Remus said after a moment. 

Harry looked at the Comet 230, contemplating Remus’ statement. In the end, he decided he didn’t care to ask further. The past was the past, and right now the Startrail V was looking like the choice for him. 

The Startrail was the newest broom in a series of artisanal brooms. There were five, and the fifth was the fastest, while the first was the slowest. They were all equipped with the same set of safety charms on every broom and could keep safe the worst of fliers. The one Harry wanted was a little long, but he figured he’d grow into it rather than get a new one later. The V’s information card said it would fly as fast as the latest Nimbus broom, which Remus told him was a premier racing company.

He chose the Startrail and told Remus as such. Remus agreed and made his way over to the counter. He told the clerk their order, much to the clerk’s happy surprise, and the man scurried to the back room to fetch their purchase. 

“James also loved his artisanal brooms,” Remus mused while they waited. “He flew on a Meteor 300 for the first four years on the Quidditch team, but after his accident, his parents got him a Comet. Not because of the broom—the manufacturer just stopped making them.” 

Remus got a bit wistful as he did. Harry still appreciated the story about his dad. He knew he wouldn’t hear them from anyone else. Except perhaps this Sirius Black—his godfather, who was not the secret keeper. Whatever that may be. 

“Did you fly with the team too?” Harry asked, wondering how it was that he himself would learn. He supposed Remus had to know how to fly somehow if he was even considering buying Harry a broom. 

Harry noticed that sometimes, Remus’ laugh sounded more like a bark. 

“Never, though I did fill in once when our Keeper had a gnarly potions accident and our reserve near drowned during Creatures the night before. None of the other Gryffindors wanted to play the position. Your father was Quidditch Captain that year, which is the only reason I even did.” 

The shopkeep came back with Harry’s broom wrapped neatly in a navy wrapping paper, and rang up Remus for over five hundred galleons. Remus paid with wolfish confidence and the jingle of his coin purse still indicated that they had some more to spend. It became clear to Harry that Remus planned on buying him a broom from the start. 

He knew it was his own money—which he still had a hard time grasping how much he had—but he couldn’t help but thank Remus. He didn’t think anyone else would have done this for him, especially a single day after meeting him. 

Remus just patted his head in lieu of ruffling his hair, and said, “Harry, it’s your money. You don’t have to thank me at all, I’m only making sure you know what your options are. I appreciate it, though. Come on, I’ve got one last stop planned.” 

Harry couldn’t even wonder what Remus had planned now but followed him dutifully. 

They went around the corner, where Harry saw standing cages of owls and other birds. A purple-bricked shop lay in front of them called Eeylops Owl Emporium. 

“One pet, alright, Harry?” Remus said. “Hogwarts says you can take an owl, cat, or toad, but most pets are allowed as long as the owner has the required care available. Find any one that you want, as long as it seems they’ll be a great companion to you.” 

The inside of the shop was dimly lit and mainly sounded of hoots and hisses from the animals inside. Harry looked around, familiar with the magic of owls and other magical creatures by now. What really took him by surprise was a posh older woman in an ancient set of robes donning a stuffed vulture—on her head! Her magic was a strong pink and gold cloud with orange threads that whirled like a storm around her.

“Remus Lupin?” she trilled, sounding much like a bird herself. Harry and Remus both tensed up. “Is that you? Why I don’t think I’ve seen you since that Christmas a few years ago. You look terrible, dear. You need some protein to wake you up in the mornings, you know.”

“Hello, Augusta.” Remus gave her a wry smile. “It’s been a tough few days if I’ll be honest. It’s good to see you, though. I suppose you’re here regarding a pet for Neville?” 

Augusta preened at the mention of Neville, whom Harry did not know but already felt a bit sorry for. He feared for any child raised by a woman with a predator’s body lazing upon her temple. 

“He’s right here, in fact, looking for a pet of his own,” she stated. “He let off a wonderful show of magic recently. He made all the plants in the manor go into bloom at once—if only his parents could have seen. He may be a shy boy, but I know he’ll grow strong if that show meant anything.” 

She turned to look at Harry, and it was when he made eye contact that he knew he made a mistake. She moved upon him like a hawk, circling him like she would her prey. Eventually, she extended her hand. 

“Harry Potter, a pleasure to finally meet you,” she greeted. “Augusta Longbottom.” 

Harry went for the handshake. He didn’t know how she figured him out so fast, but he knew that if he messed that up, there would be no redemption in her eyes.

“Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Longbottom,” he managed to muster out, still shocked by the turn of events. 

“Wonderful, my Neville’s somewhere around here, perhaps you should go and introduce yourself,” Augusta smiled, though clearly trying to get Remus alone. “Now, Remus Lupin, if you could explain to me—”

Harry decided to leave before he also sat through Augusta’s scolding.

He tucked through the aisles of cat food and owl pellets and found his way to the back of the shop. There were plenty of owls hooting in cages, but none that caught his attention just yet. He thought it’d be nice to get an owl, but he had a feeling the owl for him wasn’t in this shop at this moment. 

He felt a cool wind breeze against him and turned in surprise. There was nothing. 

He kept walking into the dog section, failing to see the boy kneeling against a cage. He tripped over his boot and fell flat on his face. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the boy apologised, helping Harry up. “I shouldn’t have been there like that.” 

“Don’t worry,” Harry said, brushing his clothes back down. He figured this was the Neville boy Augusta mentioned. He was round-faced and had extremely kind eyes, and was about a head taller than Harry at the moment. He seemed a bit shy, but Harry supposed he himself wouldn’t be nearly as outspoken if he’d grown up with Augusta over Petunia. 

He gave him a once over. Neville’s magic was a strong blazing ruby red that sat upon him like armour, threads of pink, gold, and even silver webbing to the centre of his body. Harry was intrigued then—this was the first person he’d seen with four magical colours so far. Not to mention, the last magic user he saw this red on was Griphook. He made a mental note to keep that in mind.

“I’m Harry, nice to meet you. Was that your grandmother up there, with the bird on her head?” 

Neville seemed to withdraw at the mention of his grandmother. Harry noted that for another time. 

“Yeah, that’s her,” he said. “I’m Neville. Good to meet you, wish it was under better circumstances.” 

Harry laughed. 

“I don’t mind at all. Are you looking for a pet? Can I help?”

Harry never had a friend before. But if he did choose to have a friend, he hoped he could consider Neville one. He was kind, though he was quiet, and he was funny, and not in a mean way. 

They looked at the owls, which Neville decided against. He was looking at dogs but thought it would be unfortunate to leave one behind when he went to Hogwarts. Harry thought they had it with the cats, but then Neville got scratched by one and decided against it. Harry, on the other hand, picked up a fluffy brown kitten. He wasn’t the biggest cat person, but this one had green eyes akin to Harry’s and he was sold. 

At this point, there were only fish and reptiles left. Neville looked at the magical bearded dragons with interest, which looked far more interesting than the toads. 

Harry found himself by the snakes. 

“Hello, ssnakes! ” Harry whispered in his snake language. He wasn’t sure if this was common in the wizarding world, but he wanted to check on the only animals he knew he could talk to. “How are you all doing? ”

“A sspeaker!” the snakes exclaimed. 

Harry listened to the snakes, but they all had the same general complaints. They would prefer live rats and slightly warmer dens. Otherwise, they were pleased with their settings. The only one who wasn’t was a small black rat snake, who begged Harry to take her along. She was only about half a metre long right now, but her sign said her species could grow to about two. It would be a tough sell on Remus. 

“Are you hissing to that snake, Harry?” Neville asked, causing Harry to jump in surprise. It was rare to catch him off guard like this, but the cat in his arms and the snake’s complaints were a worthy distraction. 

“Er, no?” Harry said in return. 

Neville tucked his chin and raised an eyebrow at Harry. 

“If you are, I don’t really care,” Neville said. “My gran has a friend who’s a Parselmouth. She comes by every few months to tend to the ashwinders that keep popping up in the forbidden greenhouse.” 

Harry decided he liked Neville. 

“Then, yes. I was hissing at these snakes. Who do you have there?” He gestured to the small bearded dragon cradled in Neville’s arms.

“Well, he doesn’t have a name yet, but I was going to get a toad at first,” Neville spouted, eager to talk about his new pet. “I had a toad in my hands and he immediately jumped out and I lost him, and I figured it would be like that if I kept one. So I got this guy instead!”

Harry peered closely at the lizard, hissing a hello in case he understood. His tongue flickered out, and he showed no indication of understanding Harry. He thought it was a good fit for Neville.

“He looks a bit like a Gerald, no?” Harry suggested, having seen into the lizard’s eyes. 

“I was thinking maybe Lloyd?” Neville countered. “Oh. What about Trevor? Trevor seems like a fine name for this lad.” 

Neville seemed to like Trevor, so Harry agreed to it in the end. 

They made their way back up to Remus and Augusta. Remus looked thoroughly chastised, and Augusta graced the boys with a nod. After promising to owl each other, Augusta and Neville bid their farewells to make their purchases. Remus walked over to Harry, who was now figuring out a way to bring up the snake. 

“Why do I have the feeling that we’re not done here?” he asked, extending an arm for the cat to jump on. 

Harry thought a kitten would be scared of a werewolf. But it turns out the kitten knew to see through to Remus, for it climbed right up to his neck and nuzzled against his face. 

“Reminds me of Athena—Lily’s cat,” Remus smiled. He pet the kitten’s head and turned his attention back to Harry. “You look guilty. What do you need to tell me?” 

And after some negotiating, Harry and Remus left Eeylops with a kitten around Remus and a snake curled around Harry’s wrist. A cage and furnishings for the snake were bought, as well as an assortment of live mice—all of which were shrunk and thrown into the bag. Harry questioned the ethics of the last purchase but figured Remus knew what he was doing. They bought food for the kitten, and some more treats for Patroclus who was waiting at home. 

They returned to the lens shop and picked up Harry’s new glasses, which he put on immediately. The relief he got from them was immeasurable, and he’d have to figure out this mage-sight thing soon. Lastly, they went to the robes shop and picked up Harry’s new set of wizarding clothing. 

Inside The Chamber Pot, Remus decided they could take the muggle exit and pick up a dinner of fish and chips for the two of them. Harry, only having been to London once, was all too eager to agree. They found a shop nearby, ordered their food, and hid around an alley so Remus could cast some warming charms on it. 

Harry walked back with Remus to the tavern, excited to finally go home and eat. The day was long and fun, but he wanted to get to know his new friends. 

They Flooed back home through The Chamber Pot and bid goodbye to Georgie, who was still manning the bar. Remus let the kitten out of his arms and walked into the kitchen. Harry pet his new friend on the head once, then thought of a name for him as he walked into the kitchen. Or, attempted to, but Remus was blocking the entryway. The man stood still under the wooden arch, blocking Harry’s access inside. 

He shoved Remus in with all of his might, and they both stumbled forward. 

He was staring at a dark black screech owl, with the faintest speckles of white on its feathers. It looked like he was dotted with constellations. He was perched next to Patroclus, the latter of which was preening the feathers of the former in an admonishing way.

“Achilles?” Remus breathed. “Is that you?” 

The owl named Achilles hooted once at Remus, as if to say “of course it’s me, you twat.”

“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since…” 

Achilles hooted, and flew down from the perch. Remus extended his arm, which the owl took as a landing. He nipped at Remus’ fingers once, then ruffled his feathers in a way that reminded Harry of a dog shaking itself when it was wet. 

“You always were a brilliant bird,” Remus whispered, stroking his hands along the owl’s feathers. “I’m glad to see you’ve been doing alright. I suppose somehow you’ve heard the news?” 

The trill Achilles gave indicated that he had in fact, heard the news. Harry didn’t think that owls could read though, and wondered how this one found out about anything they could consider news. 

“Well if you wish to stay, Harry and I bought some more treats for Patroclus—but I’m sure he’ll let you have some, right, boy?” Remus looked up at his own owl now, who bobbed his head in response. 

Harry marvelled once again at the intelligence of post owls and wished he could have one of his own. The owls in Eeylops just didn’t seem right to him. He supposed that maybe around Hogwarts time, maybe they could see if there was an owl waiting for him somewhere. But for now, he figured three new additions to the household were enough. 

“Who does Achilles belong to, Remus?” Harry asked. He watched the owl hop onto Remus’ shoulder, while Remus started to take out their purchases from his new bag. There was a whine from one of the animals. 

“Who else would get such a dramatic owl but your godfather, Harry?” Remus laughed. “He left the night Sirius was arrested and I haven’t seen him since. I suppose he’s just been waiting to come back.” 

Harry cocked his head at the mention of Sirius. He’d heard of the man in passing the night before from Minerva and Remus at dinner. Then again during the reading of the wills. Remus had been bringing up more and more since the will reading. 

“Who exactly is Sirius?” 

There was a scratching at the kitchen door, the one that led out to the backyard. The snake on Harry’s wrist slithered out from under his sleeve, tasting the air around her. Remus and Harry ignored it. Harry because he’d seen enough horror films, and Remus was obviously used to this sort of behaviour as he lived in the prime setting of one.

“Ssmells of dog,” the snake hissed. Harry nodded. They were in the werewolf’s den now, it only made sense. 

Remus did not yet answer but continued unloading the bag. Harry reached for a packet of seedlings, considering which they could plant first. Maybe they could see what the garden out back was like tomorrow, and put something like the rosemary in the kitchen. 

Once everything was out of their bag, including Harry’s new broom and the live rats, Remus patted down his clothes and made his way to the door. 

“Sirius is many things, Harry, but I suppose it would be best for me to let him tell you himself.”

The scratching got louder and faster. 

Remus opened the door. 

A warm gust of wind breezed through the room, chilling everyone right down to their magic. 

A great black dog the size of a small bear clouded in a dark inky cloud of shadows sat at the entryway.

Harry watched a flame of dark purple magic—almost black, but not quite—flicker around the dog.   

Then, he took a step forward.

And there stood a man. 

—

Chapter Text

Padfoot had a plan.

Sirius Black did not have a plan. He was rather useless to Padfoot right now, in all honesty. He thought that when Sirius woke up again, he would know what to do. Instead, a Dementor came by and caused him to sob hysterically for about two hours before he turned back into Padfoot. It was worth a try.

It was okay, though. Padfoot knew what to do now. 

As he watched the last Dementor pass by his cell, Padfoot stood on all fours and walked to a corner of the cell. Padfoot had never felt this sure of anything before. He had been with Sirius for a very long time, for a part of him was Sirius. But he was also Padfoot, the dog sometimes thought to be a Grim—usually only for pranking purposes.

Sirius never thought he was a Grim, though. He didn’t know what a Grim even did, other than it served as a classic omen for death. But the other day, a burst of magic was felt in Azkaban, and it awakened something in both of them. He thought it was to for Sirius, and waited for Sirius to get him out of their prison. Sirius failed to do so and thought of Padfoot instead.

As Padfoot, that little piece of Sirius spoke inside him. It found the part of them that was awakened and gave it to Padfoot. And they both knew then that it was Padfoot who had to break them out. 

Padfoot had spent many a day watching the Dementors glide by. Sirius refused to, but they just looked like ghosts to the dog. He didn't mind them as much as Sirius did, for The Dementors smelled of a sickly sort of magic, but there was a slight sweetness to it. Padfoot knew this sweetness very well, for it was the only nice-smelling thing in Azkaban. It was found only on the Dementors, and in the tight corner under the window.

He also knew the smell of Sirius’ magic. Sirius had that same sweetness to him and always had. He never did anything with it, but Padfoot wondered.

If he just tugged on.

Ah.

There it was.

And what if?

Padfoot followed the scent, slipping into the shadows under the window. They clung onto him like a heavy quilt as he walked through. He sniffed along the ground, deciding against looking up when it fell from underneath him. He wondered where he was going. He didn’t smell anyone else in this place, but he wanted to go somewhere nice. Maybe where he could get a nice bath, and a decent meal. 

The sweet smell Padfoot latched onto was his only guide out of the darkness. It was as cold as Azkaban, and the wind blew strong against his coat. There were countless whispers along the way, but he knew better than to pay them much mind. There would be nothing good to come from listening to those. 

The earth started to build under his feet again. Padfoot continued walking, nose to the ground until he felt the warmth of the sun around him. He felt the heavy weight of the shadows against him still, but the sun teased him with enough heat to break through. If he was dying right now, then hell was cooler than he thought. 

The scent of honeysuckle and orchids wafted up his nose, and Padfoot came to a still. He knew this land. He didn't think he'd ever be back, even in his dreams. He’d run through this field before, though there was an abundance of wildflowers this time. The last time he was here, he was with his pack. 

He ran again, this time alone. 

The shadows followed. It seemed they were staying with them now. He hoped Sirius didn’t mind too much. (Sirius did not, for the part of Sirius that was still conscious was trying to wrap his mind around what sort of magic Padfoot just did. )  

Padfoot hadn’t run like this in years. He took his time, chasing the rats and hares around the field. The shadows trailing around helped him corner them. He caught onto the scent of a wolf—a scent he never forgot—and sprinted towards it. 

A familiar cottage came into his line of sight, and Padfoot knew he had done it. The enchanted lanterns Sirius did himself still floated around the house. He didn’t know how he’d done it, and he was sure they’d spend some time figuring it out, but he had made it off Azkaban. 

Wonderful. 

Now it was time to find Moony. Maybe he would help, and then they could go get Harry together. Then they’d find the rat , kill him, and perhaps even have him for stew. (Sirius objected, he thought Peter would be far too gamey for stew.) 

He tried to walk into the cottage, but the wards wouldn’t let him. 

The shadows nudged at the magic Padfoot smelled, but it was to no avail. The magic of the cottage would not let him in. Padfoot barked and huffed, but there was no one to bring him inside.

So he waited. 

He waited out back, for he knew Moony would come. He could still smell the trail from the full moon around the grounds. At one point, Padfoot chased some gnomes through the abandoned garden, not helping its sorry state any more. Moony never was the best at herbology. He’d wondered if they still had Sprout’s gardening manual lying around here.

Around sunset, a familiar scent began to emerge from the other side of the door. It smelled a bit of old parchment pages, the fresh half of a lit fire, and the air of a full moon night.

It must be Moony. 

Padfoot scratched at the door, asking to be let in. Sirius screamed—he didn’t know what to say to him just yet.

Moony did not let him in. Much to Sirius' relief, but Padfoot's annoyance. 

Padfoot scratched the door again. Maybe a bit more aggressively than necessary. Sirius could repair the scratches later when they had a wand.

Moony— Remus opened the door this time. He looked like he had questions.

A breeze flew by them, though it couldn’t have been from outside. There was no wind today.

Remus inclined his head towards Padfoot, but his nose twitched in that way it did when he was angry, so he took a step forward. 

And let Sirius do the talking. 

—

“Sirius, please tell me you did not just break out of Azkaban ,” Remus hissed, slamming the door behind them.  

Achilles flew with a hoot back up to the owl perch. 

Harry couldn’t keep in his gasp. As he turned into a man, the purple shadows that whirled around the dog shifted. What was left was a tall man, about half a head shorter than Remus—the tallest man Harry ever met. His eyes were a striking grey, and his cheekbones were high. He looked like he could have been very handsome, but instead was a touch malnourished and in dire need of a bath. 

A blanket of deep violet magic shrouded atop his shoulders like a cloak, darker than the magic around Narcissa Malfoy. His magic looked like constellations, silvery white threads spanning around his fingers and hair. As it moved, Harry caught strands of thread shifting to an iridescent pink. It was the most beautiful magic he’d seen on a person so far. 

“You’re Sirius?” he asked in awe. “You’re my godfather?” 

It took him a second to put it together, but then Harry also remembered where he’d seen the dog before. 

“You’re my parents’ dog!” Harry exclaimed. 

Sirius sputtered in opposition and Remus barked a laugh.

“James’ dog —why if anyone’s a dog it—”

It seemed to hit Sirius that he was standing in front of Harry then. 

“You’re Harry?” he asked, breath catching on the last syllable. 

Sirius got very close to him. Harry wished he hadn’t, mainly because he smelled like a graveyard. He didn’t say anything for a moment, but his eyes were scanning every inch of Harry’s face.

“You’re much scrawnier than James ever was at your age. You’ve got to be like, eight? What're you doing with Moo—” 

“Sirius, wonderful as it is to see you,” Remus interrupted, pulling the man away and throwing him into the nearest chair. “How did you get here? I know the goblins work fast, but even they couldn’t have cleared your name in about six hours.” 

Sirius’ eyes widened. He seemed to be processing the words that were said. Remus cast a series of cleaning charms on him. 

Harry took the time to unpack their dinner, happy they got an extra large order of fish and chips with sides. He had a feeling Sirius hadn’t eaten in a minute. Remus noticed him doing so, and walked over to put a kettle on. He also magicked a set of mismatched plates onto the table. 

“Clear my name?” Sirius croaked out. He eyed a roll of bread, and when Harry pushed it towards him, he tore into it with abandon. “Do you mean that you caught the rat?” 

Remus turned to look at Sirius with horror.

“Peter’s alive ?” 

Harry thought this was better than any of the shows the Dursleys watched on the telly. He ate his chips with glee.

“What do you mean, Peter’s alive?” Sirius snapped. “Of course he’s alive, that’s how I ended up in Azkaban in the first place! The bloody rat cut off his finger and scurried into the sewers like the cowardly traitor he is! How’d you know I was innocent if you didn’t find him?” 

Remus stared at Sirius, mouth agape. Harry felt bad for Remus. He’s had a very eventful couple of days. It couldn’t be good for his health. 

The kettle started whistling.

“Harry and I went to Gringotts and read James and Lily’s wills, where you were exonerated by their word,” Remus explained, setting up the tea platter. He put the cups down on the dish much harder than he normally would. “Griphook assured me he would send word to the DMLE, but the Ministry isn’t known for their speed. Not to mention, there would have still been the matter of the murders, though I suppose that’s on Peter as well?”

Harry thought Remus was taking this very well. He himself could barely keep up but was enjoying every moment regardless. He didn’t mean to be, but he never got this kind of excitement at Privet Drive. He knew that Peter was a terrible man if he had murdered some people and framed Sirius. He also knew that he was once a friend of his parents, and that was not how he wished his friends would treat him. That did not mean he didn't enjoy watching his new guardian bicker with his new godfather over it. 

“I swear on my magic that I’ve never betrayed James and Lily, and would never do anything to harm Harry,” Sirius declared, staring intently at Remus. “Please, Moony. I know what you’re thinking and I am so sorry.”

Remus took a deep breath. He walked over with the tea set and poured a cup for everyone. It was very quiet, and Harry didn’t even want to chew on the chip in his mouth to break the tension. 

“We can talk about it later, Sirius,” Remus said after a moment. “Have some tea—I doubt Azkaban carries Earl Grey. Why don't we talk about how you escaped Azkaban, the prison that no wizard has ever escaped? ”

Sirius, who did not care about the tension, was mid-bite on a crispy fish tender and looked a bit sheepish. 

“Well, I think it was actually Padfoot who escaped? I was just along for the ride in this case. Dementors and I don’t get along too well so I wasn’t much help to him.”

“ Padfoot broke you out of Azkaban.” Remus deadpanned.

“Padfoot’s capable of many things, I’ll have you know.” Sirius scoffed.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “Padfoot got his front half stuck under James’ bed chasing a ball.” 

Sirius sprawled himself out on the chair. “Padfoot wrestled Moony almost every full moon from fifth year to seventh.” 

“Padfoot got stuck up a tree after he disrespected the local bowtruckles.” Remus took a sip of his tea, seemingly in victory.

Harry thought that Sirius was quite an interesting man. Then he caught on to the fact that he thought both adults missed. 

“If Sirius is here now, what will happen when they look for him back there?”

Remus met Harry’s gaze, and Harry watched a thousand thoughts whirl behind his eyes. 

Sirius’ roll of bread landed on the table with a dull thud . 

“They’re going to think I’ve escaped,” Sirius moaned, resigned.

“You did escape, Sirius,” Remus pointed out. “You’re lucky, you know. I’ve had the whole day to sit with the fact that you’re innocent.”

Remus portioned some food for himself. Sirius’ gaze followed his hands and up to his eyes, though he did not say a word. Harry had many questions, but his snake hissed at him to stay silent for now.

“I’d have hexed you dead if you came here yesterday,” shrugged Remus. “If not for Harry here, I wouldn’t have known.” 

He put his fork down. Sirius’ eyes met his.

“How often did the Dementors do their rounds, Sirius?” 

Sirius shrugged and snagged a chip off Remus’ plate. His nose twitched—only in annoyance. 

“Every twenty-four hours to drop off food,” he said through his chewing. “Human guards every fortnight.” 

“The last time humans came by?” Remus asked.

“It’s been a couple days since I saw Shacklebolt, the chap on duty this year.”

Remus hummed and ate his food. Sirius watched him in silence. Harry drank his tea. 

“Sirius, why don’t you get to know your godson,” Remus suggested after some silence. “That is why you’re here after all, isn’t it?” 

The mentioned man turned to look at Harry for the third time that night. In an instant, guilt—then warmth flashed over his eyes. 

“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry,” he apologised, throwing down his bread again. “I’ve forgotten myself—I’m your godfather, and I love you, and I’m so sorry you have to see me like this.” 

Harry realised then, that no one had ever said those words to him before. It hit him then, that this bedraggled dog—right now, a man—in front of him, was his godfather. He never got a chance to know his parents, but here was the man his parents chose in case of that. His godfather, best friends with his parents, and best friends with Remus—his new mentor. 

He didn’t know how he ended up here, at this moment. 

They were sitting at Remus’ dark wooden table, one with multiple deep gashes, and the placemats Dizzy never summoned back. They were talking and included Harry, unlike the Dursleys, but just like a family. The Dursleys were never family—they were the Dursleys. 

But Remus, and Sirius. The animals of the house, too. They could be his family. They were his family. 

Harry held his head high and smiled at Sirius. 

“Don’t worry, Sirius, I’ve never had a godfather before, so I haven’t an idea what they’re supposed to look like.” 

Sirius barked a doglike laugh, which Harry thought fit him well. 

“A real shame, Harry,” said Sirius. “I would have loved to be there from the start.” 

“Yes, real shame,” Remus repeated, nodding his head. “Even more of a shame considering we’re about to break you back into Azkaban this week.” 

“Yes, especially considering—” Sirius shot out of his chair, and his bread roll fell to the ground. “Break me back into Azkaban? Why would I want to go back to Azkaban?”

“If the Ministry finds you’ve escaped, they’ll be the first to call you mad and start a witch hunt,” explained Remus. He took a long sip of his tea. “If they do that, it’ll be that much harder to convince them you’re innocent.”

Remus glanced at Harry, then back at Sirius. Harry understood the message, but only due to his earlier realisation. 

“If you’re to be Harry’s godfather, the Ministry must be on your side. It’s the only way we’ll win against Dumbledore.”

“Dumbledore?” Sirius asked. “What’s Dumbledore got to do with any of this?” 

“Everything, Sirius,” Remus sighed. “I’ll tell you later. Eat up for now. Harry, why don’t you let Sirius know how our trip to the Alley went?”

Harry beamed, eager to do so. He knew when someone was trying to redirect a conversation, but he’d let it slide in this case.  

It helped that Sirius was a great listener. He nodded his head and “oohed” at the right moments, and asked questions that showed he cared. Harry recounted their day trip with ease and walked Sirius through their entire day. He told him of the dwarven woman at the pub, and how she made the most delicious eggs. He mentioned the strange trip to Gringotts and the stranger trip at the broom shop. Sirius’ flash of recognition at the mention of Narcissa did not go unseen. 

The purchases they made that sat on the opposite end of the table were reviewed in earnest. Sirius even made a joke about how Remus was the fun uncle after all. Harry had a feeling this was in reference to an ancient conversation.

They finished dinner, Sirius eagerly finishing both Remus and Harry’s plates, and Harry went to go upstairs to take a bath. Remus passed Harry’s new clothing to him as a hint. He took it, figuring Sirius and Remus needed to chat anyway. When he turned the corner leaving the kitchen, he met the emerald green eyes of another new member of the household. 

He needed to name the cat and his snake. 

His mum once named her cat Athena. Remus mentioned that started an entire trend of their Gryffindor friends naming their new pets after people in Greek mythos. It was why he ended up with Patroclus. 

He knew little of Greek myth, though. He wondered if Remus had a book or a story he could tell him. 

The kitten didn’t look like a Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades. Those were the only names he could remember from the lessons at school. His snake, who had not said much yet, did not look like an Aphrodite either. 

Both of his pets followed him into the bathroom. He hoped this wouldn’t become a habit, but let it happen just for tonight. 

Upon entrance, Harry was showered with the aroma of life. The bathroom of The Wolf’s Den might better be known as the greenhouse, Harry mused.

He saw bundles of eucalyptus, lavender, and rosemary pinned on the half wall next to the tub. More plants hung in pots from each corner and on stands in each available corner. He supposed it wouldn’t be Remus’ home without an extravagant amount of enchanted candles, and they were floating up high alongside them. Harry noticed that the two wooden cabinets carried different objects behind their glass. One had classic bathroom necessities such as towels and soap, and after some investigating, a muggle first aid kit and a shelf of muggle medicine. The other was filled with ingredient baskets with names that he recognized from their trip to the apothecary. 

Harry supposed that Remus the tea-drinking werewolf would probably need some potions. He didn’t think turning into a bloodthirsty creature once a month would be painless, after all. He just didn’t know why he chose the bathroom to keep them in. 

The bathroom itself had two large windows looking over the garden. When Harry looked outside, he thought they’d benefit from tending to it. The hawthorn trees were overgrown, and the dogwoods were drooping. 

He turned instead to the large tub, which had more faucets than he’d expected. After some twisting and turning, he discovered that one was for water, one for bubbles, and one for coarse salt. He didn’t know why Remus needed the last, but he found himself in a hot, salty, bubbly, bath after a moment. 

“ Iss this how you live? ” the snake hissed. She seemed like she was in awe, and slithered across the floor, tasting the room around her. “ It is so warm, and the hot clouds feel nice on my scales.”

The kitten, much to his credit, was not scared of the snake. He did not care for her at all, licking his small paws and getting settled into the cushion it had commandeered. He was focused on the floating bubbles coming from the tub.

“ Not ussually, ” Harry admitted. “ The wolf only took me in the other night. ” 

The snake hissed her approval. 

“ You should sstay with the wolf if he likes this. He smells of good. The new dog, he smells confused. ”

Harry cocked his head and considered that. 

“ He might be confused, but he seems nice too. We should give him some time. ”

The snake did not hiss much more after that. Harry was learning that while she wouldn’t say much sometimes, his new companion listened to everything. He really should give her a name.

At the end of Harry’s bath, the kitten jumped from his position in an attempt to capture a bubble before the water drained. He failed miserably and splashed with full force into the tub, sending water everywhere. Harry rescued him and thought that he would never again bring this cat into the bath if he could help it. 

He cleaned up and dried the kitten off, then put on his new black nightshirt and matching trousers. The fabric was the nicest he’d ever worn, and it fit him to a tee. He didn’t regret the half hour of measurements and another half of picking out colours with Remus if this is what wizarding clothing felt like. They'd only gotten a basic wardrobe for him, but he'd have to ask Remus about potentially getting more. 

Harry took the bundle of clothing up to his loft, dropping it in the centre of the rug. He would figure that out later. There wasn’t a wardrobe in sight, so he’d need to ask Remus for some help. Then he climbed down the stairs and went into the living room, where Remus was sitting down on the couch with a book and the remaining tea from dinner. 

“Hello, Harry,” Remus said, not looking up from his pages. “How was your bath?” 

“Wonderful, Remus,” Harry replied. He settled down next to a pile of books on the floor. They’d have to get some more furniture in here, but he was looking for something anyway. “It’s a lovely bathroom.” 

“Thank you, Harry,” Remus said, a wry smile on his lips. “It’s the territory of being a werewolf, you see. There’s no cure for the bite, but you can justify having an extravagant bath for your aching bones.” 

It did make sense, Harry supposed. He would also want to sit in a bath for a couple hours if he had to take all those potions. 

“Did you make Sirius leave?” Harry asked, noting the lack of a certain dog-man. He assumed that Sirius was an Animagus, like Professor McGonagall. However, he didn’t yet discount the chance that Sirius may be a dog who can turn into a man, and he would have loved to ask him himself.

“No one can make Sirius do anything, Harry, and it would be best to learn that sooner than later,” Remus mused. Harry heard the crinkle of a page turn. “I told him to take a bath after you were done—Merlin knows he’s in need of one. We’ll talk about what to do with him when he’s done.” 

Harry nodded his head, choosing to let the conversation die. He just found the book he needed, after all. An entire encyclopaedia of Greek pantheons and other such figures. He was glad Remus had this lying around.  Harry paged through the book, noting names that he liked for the kitten and snake. He never knew much about the Greeks, but the short descriptions that came with each subject interested him. The gods were all-powerful, but they were still flawed and made their own mistakes. It was fascinating. 

In the end, after some debate with Remus—who was thoroughly amused by Harry’s desire to continue the tradition Lily inadvertently started—Harry settled on Heracles for the kitten and Astra for the snake. 

Heracles meowed in approval once he appeared from upstairs, and he settled in Remus’ lap. Harry explained to Astra that her namesake was the goddess of justice, Astraea, and that he chose the name because her scales reminded him of the night sky and stars. She seemed to like it. 

Sirius appeared soon after that, having pilfered one of Remus’ jumpers and pyjama pants. He looked much cleaner, and much younger, after having taken a bath. He sprawled himself out on the couch and shoved his legs into Remus’ lap—surprising Heracles, who yowled in upset.

Sirius found the source of the noise easily, grabbed the kitten by the back of the neck, and brought it to his face.

“Now, what’s this here?” he asked, grimacing when the cat batted his nose with its paws. 

“Heracles!” Harry grinned. “And Astra. Come out and ssay hello. ” 

Astra, who had grown to love her position around Harry’s limbs, poked her head out from under his sleeve. Sirius’ jumped upright in shock, but after seeing no response from Remus, turned to Harry instead. 

“A Parselmouth?” Sirius asked, honest glee all too apparent in his voice. “James would have lost it—the Potters haven’t had a Parselmouth in generations!”

“ The dog iss loud, and very excited, ” Astra hissed, slithering up Harry’s sleeve and settling around his neck. “ Will he alwayss be like this? ” 

Harry laughed, and pet the crown of Astra’s head with his finger. “She said you’re loud, Sirius.” 

“She wouldn’t be the first to say that,” Sirius said with a wink. He looked at Harry with a grin. Harry couldn’t help but grin back. He liked Sirius.

Remus cleared his throat then.

“Harry, Sirius and I were talking about his escape and there was something we’d like your help with.”  

Harry didn’t miss the hesitation in Remus’ voice when he said this. It made him curious enough to want to go along with it regardless. 

“How can I help?” Harry asked. 

Remus gestured to the book in his hands, and then at Sirius. Harry could see that the cover read Mages and Six Senses? He wondered how Remus had a book for everything.

“When Gertie said you had mage-sight, how much mage-sight would you say that you have?” Remus asked. He looked like he regretted it very much.

Sirius slapped his forehead with his palm.

Harry thought there was a better way for him to have asked that question. 

“A lot?” he replied, entirely unsure of his answer. Looking back, never once had he tried to explain it to even himself. “I can see everyone’s magic and it has a different colour. Yours is a chocolate brown, but Dizzy explained why it’s brown, and silver and gold. Sirius is a dark dark purple, silver, and pink.” 

Sirius and Remus looked at each other, conversing silently with their eyes as they did, when Harry remembered another thing. 

“Sirius’ dog form’s magic is purple, too,” he mentioned. “McGonagall didn’t have magic as a cat though, but I guess Padfoot is different.”

“Professor McGonagall, Harry—but Animagi shouldn’t be able to use magic though,” Remus said. He seemed distraught. “Do you mean those flames on Padfoot were Sirius’ magic?” 

“Moony, I’ve been trying to tell you this!” Sirius exclaimed, shooting up from the couch. “ Padfoot broke me out of Azkaban. He did some freaky magic and then I was back in your yard!”

Remus sighed and massaged his temples with his hands. He was clearly frustrated, but the lack of nose twitching forebode a positive end to this conversation. 

“What if you turned into Padfoot, and then we could see what happens then?” Harry suggested. 

Sirius shrugged and instantly transformed into his canine counterpart. Remus, who didn’t even have a chance to say anything, just burrowed himself deeper into the sofa. 

Harry watched Sirius’ transformation with an intense focus. As a human, Sirius’ magic sat on top of his body like a cocoon—as it did on everyone he’d met so far. During his transformation, the silvery white and sometimes pink threads dissipated, until just the indigo magic remained. Curiously, the magic did not sit on top of Padfoot, but enshrouded the animal and took on the shape of a flame. It was the same indigo at its core though it got darker as it expanded. 

Harry looked around the room, wondering if perhaps this magic would be found anywhere else. There wasn’t, but the tendrils around Padfoot seemed to flicker in reach of something. He relayed this information to Remus. Remus proceeded to launch into a tirade about magical theory that was just a bit beyond Harry’s scope of understanding, so he continued to watch Padfoot. 

Sirius’ dog form was large, and his thick coat of fur was much cleaner having gone through the bath. Sitting on his hind legs still had him up to Harry’s height standing. He was currently on his back, exposing his belly to the wary Heracles. Harry couldn’t help but to give him a belly rub, which Padfoot enjoyed very much. 

He wondered if Padfoot was as much Sirius as Sirius was Padfoot. Or if perhaps, Padfoot and Sirius were entirely different beings. It’d be a little strange if he were just rubbing his godfather’s stomach after all, but it’d be much less weird if his godfather happened to be mostly a dog at this stage. From what he understood, wix couldn’t use their magic in their Animagus forms, because animals didn’t have magic. But what if Padfoot was a magical creature? Would that mean that Padfoot was using Sirius’ magic, or did he come with his own? 

When he told Remus about his current line of thought, the werewolf chuckled. “It’s not possible for an Animagus form to be a magical creature, Harry.” 

“But why not?” Harry asked, now scratching behind Padfoot’s ears. The dog’s tail thumped in tandem. “Who said it wasn’t possible?” 

Remus did not have an answer for him. In fact, he seemed rather dumbfounded at the moment. He was staring at Padfoot with a growing sense of horror on his face. Padfoot stood on his haunches and licked Harry’s face and barked. 

“Remus, if I were right, what kind of creature could Padfoot be?” Harry prodded. “Are there any sort of magical dogs?” 

“A few,” Remus breathed. His eyes stayed on Padfoot’s form, but his hand reached for his wand. There was a moment of recognition. “But how?” 

Harry cocked his head in confusion. 

Padfoot whimpered. He continued to whine and attempted to hide his large form behind the much smaller Harry. It didn’t work. 

“Padfoot, what have you done?” Remus moaned, dropping the wand and throwing his hands to his face. “Don’t tell me I’ve got a real life Grim in this house!” 

Harry felt a chill in the air, and turned to watch Padfoot’s magic dance . The indigo flames flickered like they never had before, reaching for something . Harry wasn’t sure what a Grim was, but he didn’t think he needed to be to understand what was happening here. He started backing away from Padfoot slowly. Heracles caught onto the shift as well, for he absconded out of the room entirely.

Padfoot barked at Remus, as if to say “oh, so that is what I am?” His magic flared, the heatless flames reaching the ceiling of the room. His grey eyes that he shared with Sirius glowed a fluorescent, bright violet. A black circle formed under his feet and grew larger. Harry watched it grow until it was wide enough for Padfoot to sit on. 

There was a long silence. Harry didn’t know what to say. 

“Harry, did the ground just fall from Padfoot’s feet?” Remus asked, no trace of emotion in his tone.

Padfoot sat there panting. Harry wondered if he was just too scared to transform back. 

“I think so, Remus,” Harry answered. He looked at Remus, whose lips had gone paper thin in anger. A part of him wondered what there was to be angry about—he doubted Sirius or Padfoot had asked for anyone to take the floor away. Perhaps he was just angry because they didn’t know if it would come back. 

“So you also see the black void underneath Padfoot right now?” Remus asked again. “We haven’t all gone simultaneously mad? This isn’t a case of the Magical Madness from the 1700s, is it?” 

Instead of answering Remus, Harry turned to Padfoot instead. He knew Remus couldn’t see—but the black circle had a faint line of purple flames around it. Maybe Padfoot could. 

“What does a Grim do, Remus?” Harry interrupted, choosing to lead with his own theory. He didn’t know magic very well, but he knew the situation they were in right now was not a normal magical situation if Remus’ reaction meant anything. What he did know is that his muggle science class taught him that like attracts like.

Remus stopped in his tracks, and looked at Harry with a very inquisitive expression. 

“No one knows for sure, cub,” Remus admitted. “Grims are a thing of bedtime stories told to children to keep them from doing something stupid. The only thing everyone seems to agree on is that if you see a Grim, you’re bound to die soon. They’re an omen of death.” 

Harry didn’t know how to phrase this next question. He wasn’t even sure if he was on the right track, but something inside of him was telling him to present the situation to Remus anyway. 

“Do you think that, if Padfoot’s a Grim, whatever this is could be Grim magic?” he uttered eventually. Remus’ eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Just that, I can see the same purple magic that’s around Padfoot is also around the circle.” 

Padfoot barked again. Harry was sure then that Padfoot had to be more Padfoot than just Sirius. His eyes were still glowing after all, and Sirius did not have glowing eyes. He wondered if purple was a sign of Grim magic then—but it wouldn't make sense, unless Narcissa Malfoy was also a Grim. Perhaps one color could mean different things? Harry wasn't sure.  

Then, to both his and Remus’ surprise, Padfoot jumped in place, only to fall into the void under him. The circle closed up behind him, and left no trace of any magic that Harry could see. 

There was a very long silence. 

Remus gaped at the spot in his floor where Padfoot just was.

A moment later, a thunder of footsteps came from the staircase. Harry and Remus both whipped around to see Sirius—no longer Padfoot—sauntering down the stairs. 

“Told you Padfoot could do magic, Moony,” he smirked. 

Sirius winked at Harry. 

Remus threw his book at Sirius’ head. 

Harry laughed—he could get used to this. 

—

Chapter Text

Remus Lupin walked into his room. 

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. He looked around and cast a silencing charm on the room, then screamed until his throat ran hoarse. 

When he was done, he cancelled the charm and got ready for bed. It was later than expected, for Sirius’ arrival had eaten up most of the night. Harry was in his loft with Astra and Heracles, and Sirius had since passed out on the sofa. 

After the night’s revelation sent Remus’ mind whirling, they decided to table the teleporting dog and save it for the morning. Unfortunately for Remus, his thoughts wouldn’t stop and were still trying to comprehend what magic Padfoot just performed.

Padfoot . Not Sirius, the human wizard with above-average magical capabilities. Padfoot. His Animagus form. The Animagus form that shouldn’t be able to use magic.

Moony snorted. 

Remus ignored him.

He lay under the covers for a moment and closed his eyes, ready to count sheep jumping over a fence until he fell asleep. It was not his favourite method, and it was rather dull, but it would give him something else to think about for now. Not to mention it would shut Moony up. 

He’d think about Padfoot tomorrow. 

One sheep.

Two sheep. 

Three sheep.

He was doing well, having gotten up to the twenties, until the twenty-third sheep fell into a bottomless black pit and did not return. 

His eyes shot open. 

This wasn’t going to work. He had too many questions on his mind, and he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he had them answered. 

Back in Hogwarts, he had nights like this often. Fifth year, with OWLs happening, was especially tough for him. He’d toss and turn all night, just to borrow James’ cloak and sneak to the library until he got his answers. Sometimes, James would catch him rustling through his trunk, and they’d go to the kitchens for a midnight chat and snack. Other times, it would be Sirius, and he’d follow Remus to the library just to keep him from losing too much time. 

A part of him thought about waking Sirius now but decided against it. He’d spent the last seven years in Azkaban, after all. It was the first good night of sleep he’d be having in years. 

Remus walked over to his personal library. It was a large antique bookshelf that he and Lily found in a muggle estate sale when they first furnished The Wolf’s Den. The wood was rich mahogany and had ten half-shelves; it was wide enough to take up a third of the wall and tall enough to touch the raised ceiling in the room. The bottom third of the shelf was a locked and closed cabinet with more shelving.

Most of his books downstairs were on practical magic, magical theory, and muggle subjects. His mother had raised him with a mostly muggle education, with his father teaching them both about wizarding culture. He liked to curl up on the single sofa in the sitting room with a warm mug of tea and the sound of the crackling fire and whatever book found his fancy. 

The questions on his mind required a more nuanced answer, however. He crouched down and unlocked the muggle padlock with the combination. Then, he opened the cabinet, doors creaking from years of disuse. 

Immediately, his nostrils flared as the scent of death and decay hit him. He waved it away—the books always smelled like that. 

It’d been years since he opened this cabinet. The last time he opened it was to store it with the books left to Sirius by his Uncle Alphard. Alphard gifted him his private collection of books, and while most of them were sitting in Sirius’  vault, the ones they referred to the most during the war were locked tight in here. 

He didn’t even reach for any of the books yet, letting memories wash over him. Peter never liked the books, because he said they were ‘too dark’ for him. Funny how that ended up. Because of that, it was always Sirius, Lily, and Remus who would stay up until the morning came, discussing everything they’d read. A lot of the contents were macabre and dark, enough to keep James wary of the books. It wasn’t until the revelation of the prophecy that James started to devour them with more intensity than the rest of them ever had. 

He didn’t know where to start. Alphard’s books, dark as they were, were mostly about protection and warding. A number of wards on The Wolf’s Den—and the lost Godric’s Hollow—were from his books. There were a plethora of morbid and slightly-less morbid curses that they would avoid. At the time of the war, they didn’t have the time to discuss magical theory, but rather the theory of the spells and wards they’d use. 

But there was no war right now, and even Sirius had a few more days before they had to deal with his escape being noticed. Hopefully, Griphook had sent word to the DMLE of his innocence. He made a mental note to owl Griphook about Peter’s betrayal and Animagus form. He knew the goblins would be able to do more with that information than the Ministry.

Maybe this would be the time to look up something simple. He didn’t think he’d get any answers if he didn’t even know what he was trying to question. 

Remus ended up reaching for a rather thick tome tucked into the end of the shelf. He pulled it out, brushing the dust off the cover. Reading the title, he raised an eyebrow, for he couldn’t recall ever seeing it before. 

Magick and its Mistress. He scanned the cover and saw that it was the third volume of three. There was no author. Before opening it, Remus looked through the cabinet but did not see any of the other volumes. He shelved the thought for another day. 

He made his way over to his desk, turned on the witchlamp, and put the book down. The pages were yellowed and aged, and smelled like the oldest books in the Hogwarts library. The hardcover was made of simple black leather, and the title was engraved in gold. Even without opening it, Remus knew that this book was old . 

He flipped to the table of contents, looking for a place to start. 

Ah. 

Magickal Methods of Movement for Mages, relayed by S., told by the mother.

He pulled out a journal and a muggle biro from the drawer. He only used quills and parchment for letters these days, as it was easier to write notes with a pen. Then, he turned to the page and read. 

The book—much to his surprise—was not printed, but written. By hand. The Ministry Archives and the Hogwarts Restricted Section had the occasional handwritten book. They were old—ancient, even—and were almost always considered historical documents. He supposed it was not that shocking that Alphard Black had a book of this age. 

He paged through the chapter carefully and jotted notes down as he read. The language was stilted, and some sentences faded with age. The first half of the chapter went on about the discovery and theory of Apparition and Disapparition—simply called Appearing and Disappearing at the time. Then it moved onto flying carpets and brooms, and even mentioned Thestrals and Hippogriffs. It wasn’t until the last section of the chapter that he found something interesting. 

‘Shadows are not just the markings of Death and darkness. Shadows are a method of balancing out the light in our world. If one can Appear in a location by bending the light, then what is to say one cannot Appear and Disappear in the shadows as well? Mother does not say anything, but she laughs when the topic is brought up. We have noticed she did not say it was impossible.’ 

It was the first time, other than in the title of the chapter, that the Mother was mentioned. 

‘ Everywhere light shines, there is a shadow as its counter that remains unlit. If there are mages that we know can use Light Magick and specialise in it, then what is to say there are not mages who can use the shadows? We have not seen it for ourselves, though we would be remiss to assume they do not exist. Perhaps a day will come when they will reveal themselves to us, and we shall welcome our magickal brethren and sistren with open arms.” 

The chapter ended there. He went back to the table of contents, hoping to find something else. He read over the titles carefully, noting that they were relayed by different initials. 

More on Magickal Creatures, relayed by S., told by the mother. 

He flipped to the appropriate page number and flipped to a new page in his notebook. Then, he started to read. 

The chapter started with a small blurb. S refers to his chapters in the first two volumes. He goes on to deliver his first time encountering a pack of grindylows, describing not only their characteristics but how he managed to escape. It went on to discuss demiguise, occamies, erklings, nogtails, and more. It wasn’t until the last passage that Remus believed he was wasting his time. 

‘ The cloaked ones. We do not know where they came from, and Mother cries when we ask of them. They seem to come from the shadows. They wear black cloaks, fly through the air, and carry with them naught but despair. We thought they were a subsect of mages until one of them swooped down and reached out for us with its rotting, skeletal hands. For a moment, even I felt nothing but the sense of death. They were scared off by a burst of light magic from Antares, one of the young ones. We did not see them run, though the feeling of dread left along with them. More research will need to be done, though we do not look forward to it.’ 

Remus put his pen down, rubbing the temples of his forehead with his other hand. The passage, which had to be about Dementors, gave him just enough to add to his theory. There was just one more piece and he didn’t know if he’d be able to find it. 

He reached for his wand, thinking of a spell he learned from the Ravenclaws in third year. A Ravenclaw had invented it around the early 1900s, and they’d been using it ever since. It was a House secret, but he and Lily had introduced the Ravenclaws in their year to lined paper and the biro and were given the secret in return. 

“ Perscruta: Grim, canine.” 

The pages rapidly flipped forwards until they stopped. A golden line appeared on the page, circling the word he looked for. 

Wonderful.

‘ The Grim is no creature, though it may look like any other canine out there. It is not to be mistaken for a lupine though there may be similarities. To see a Grim is to understand that there will always be a question for us to ask about magickal creatures. Where did the Grim come from? Does he age? Is he alone, or is there more? We have not seen a Grim since our initial trek. We believe he has blessed us, for we have not suffered since. 

His shadows moved like the fires we light at night. He did not utter a single noise as he watched us. The young ones were fearful at first, and so were we. He blinked once, then twice, and barked. The shadows around him spun around him and he disappeared, right in front of our eyes. That night, we somehow managed to find shelter as we were accosted by an unexpected storm. We stayed there for three days until the snow stopped falling. 

The Grim is not meant to be feared, and the Grim is no omen of death. If he were, I, and many others, would not have lived to tell our story.’ 

And there it was. He said it before in shock, but the passage confirmed it. It was a single paragraph—two sentences, really. But it was enough for Remus. Perhaps…

“ Perscruta: Shadow, magick.” 

For a moment, he didn’t think the spell worked. Then, the pages began to turn forwards, one by one. It stopped about twenty pages after the Grim entry, highlighting the aforementioned words with the golden line again.

‘ I believe, after paging through S.'s entries, that he has brought up the potential of using the magick of shadows. He mentioned the likelihood of the Grim we saw as a user of shadow magick, and I would be inclined to agree. I also believe that the cloaked ones travel by the usage of shadows, for there is no way such a dark creature can travel using the light. 

Unfortunately, I am remiss to say that I do not know where to begin for us mages to tap into their source. The young ones have not shown an affinity for shadows, but some have shown one for her light. Mother has been quiet. I worry for her but have accepted that I cannot look to her for further knowledge on the subject. 

I will be leaving the remainder of the next two pages blank, in hopes that we can fill it in when a shadow mage comes to us.’ 

Much to Remus’ dismay, the next two pages remained empty. He closed the book and pushed it to the edge of the desk. It seemed that the authors of this book did not ever get to meet a shadow mage. But it gave him enough to pad his theory. 

He flipped to a new page in his journal and began writing. 

April 12 - Harry, 8 years old, appeared in London Zoo, coincidentally on the day I was there. Took him home, and he showed me an impressive control over his wandless magic. Minerva Flooed over and confirmed our letters for the last year were in regards to Harry’s magic. Dizzy, her house-elf companion, confirmed that Harry has the blessing of “Mother Magic*” as seen with her mage-sight.

April 13 - Took Harry to Addition and Diagon Alley. Sirius was not the secret keeper. Confirmed that Harry has mage-sight. Ran into Narcissa. Ran into Augusta and her grandson, Neville. Came back home to Patroclus preening Achilles’ feathers, and the smell of Padfoot at the door. Peter isn’t dead. He has potentially used Shadow Magick** to escape, and we need him to break back in. 

He tapped his foot as he wrote, thinking of what else he needed to say. Having written it down, he couldn’t believe that all of these events had taken place in just two days. 

Padfoot, escaped April 13. Claimed he hasn’t seen the human guard in about two or three days. One week to break him back in, by April 20, otherwise, the Ministry will notice. 

* Mother Magic has been noted by Dizzy, and in passing in old texts. Minerva and I have come across her mention before, though further research is required on Mother Magic. 

** Shadow Magick? I don’t even know what this is. Further research is required. Might have to use Sirius as a guinea pig, since Padfoot’s apparently a Grim . It’ll be fourth year all over again.

He closed his journal, putting it right on top of the tome, and leaned back in his chair. A glance at the desk clock showed it was an hour before sunrise now. Harry would be long asleep, and Sirius should be as well. 

Keeping that in mind, Remus threw on a cardigan, pocketed his wand, and left his room. He wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep at this time.  He crept down the stairs quietly, hoping not to wake anyone up. 

He was a little surprised when he got downstairs and saw a warm light coming from the kitchen. He walked past the sofa and saw a rumpled quilt where Sirius slept.

“Fancy a cuppa?” Sirius asked from the kitchen. “I’ve just put the kettle on.” 

Remus went into the kitchen and curled up on a seat at the table. Achilles and Patroclus slept on the perch above him. Sirius stood by the kettle, a single mug already out and prepared for him. He noted that it was the same mug that Sirius preferred before…well, everything. 

“I’ll have one.”

Sirius nodded at him and turned to the cabinets, and pulled out Remus’ preferred mug. They sat in silence until the kettle began to whistle, and Sirius brought over the tea set. He passed Remus’ mug over and sat down opposite of him with his own tea. Remus watched Sirius pour just a splash of milk and drop two sugar cubes into his tea. 

For a moment, the only sound was the clinking of their spoons against the ceramic. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Remus asked, choosing to break the silence. He took a sip of his tea. 

“Hard to do so after a few years of having Dementors and Death Eaters as your roommates,” Sirius admitted. “Didn’t think it’d be wise to turn into Padfoot and accidentally teleport to the other side of the country.” 

Remus let out a small laugh, then. Azkaban hadn’t taken all of his jokes, it seemed. “I suppose that was a wise decision, indeed.” 

“And you?” Sirius asked. He tapped the sides of his mug with the tips of his fingers. A nervous habit. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Hard to do so when your best friend, long thought to be a traitor, shows up after seven years,” Remus said with a hint of jest. Sirius’ eyes smiled at this, though his lips did not. 

“Suppose that would make it hard to sleep.” 

“Suppose it does.”

They sat there for a bit longer, drinking their tea. 

Remus wondered why he never noticed how good the tea tasted before. 

“So, Padfoot’s the Grim?” Sirius asked, breaking the silence again. His eyebrows furrowed and his intense gaze was focused inside his tea cup.

“Padfoot could be the Grim,” Remus said. “He could be a Grim, as well.” 

“Padfoot is my Animagus form. He can’t be a Grim.” 

“He proved us wrong with his little magic show last night.” 

“But Animagi can’t perform magic.” 

“Animagi shouldn’t be able to perform magic,” Remus corrected. “Animagi are also not magical creatures—but if Padfoot is a Grim, then everything we know might just be wrong regardless.”

Sirius leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the chair next to him. 

“We’ll deal with that tomorrow, then,” he said. “What’s your plan, Rems?”

Remus finished the last of his tea. It was fitting that Sirius would think he’d have a plan by now. 

“I don’t have one. I don’t know what to do.”

Sirius barked a laugh—the first since he’d come down to the kitchen. 

“Good for you, Moons. Where do we start then?” 

They spent some time quietly chatting in the kitchen. Remus explained to Sirius everything he knew. The letters exchanged with Minerva, Harry’s show of magic, meeting Dizzy, seeing the Longbottoms and Narcissa. Minerva discovered the injustice that had been done in the case of Harry, and how Dumbledore was at the core of it. 

How the Dursleys kept Harry in a cupboard, how they treated him like a house elf and fed him lies about his parents. 

The sun was starting to come up at the end of it all, rays of light peeking in through the windows. Sirius sat across from him, all the signs of anger present on his face. 

“I’m going to kill him,” Sirius said eventually. He said it with such an utter sense of calm that it actually scared Remus. “I’m going to kill Albus, then I’m going over to Petunia and I’m going to kill her husband and make her eat him. I’ll make sure he burns first—give her a nice charred corpse to chew on.” 

Remus did not want to argue, for he was inclined to side with Sirius on this one. However, it wouldn’t do Harry any justice if his honorary—until it was legalised—guardians ended up in Azkaban a couple of days after meeting him. 

“We can’t kill Albus, Sirius,” Remus sighed. “We’d be caught right away.” 

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a smirk teasing at the corner of his mouth.

“Is that your only concern?” 

“There’s also the matter of Dumbledore being the most powerful wizard in Great Britain .”

“Is he really that powerful if I broke out of Azkaban, and Harry can do underage wandless magic like a natural?”

“Sirius, Padfoot broke out of Azkaban. You just happened to be there.”

Sirius snorted. “Oh, so now you agree that it was Padfoot who did that.” 

“Only because I remembered it took you three tries to pass your Apparition test.” Remus’ eyes lit up with mirth. “There’s no chance you would have tapped into a new source of teleportation magic when you managed to splinch the inner halves off both your eyebrows on your first test.” 

“Oi!” Sirius exclaimed in outrage, shooting up from his chair. “We promised we wouldn't mention that ever again!” 

“Oh, I must have forgotten,” Remus said, feigning mock ignorance. “I’ve never been the smart one, you see—” 

A series of tapping on the window interrupted him. 

The two looked up, and Remus saw the familiar yellow eyes of Demetrius—Minerva’s owl. A quick Tempus let them know that it was about an hour after sunrise. Remus walked over to let him in. 

“Who’s that from?” Sirius asked, watching Remus take the letter from the owl’s beak. 

“Minerva,” Remus answered. He took an owl treat from the bowl by the window and gave it to Demetrius who took it and immediately flew out the way it came. The owl never strayed, content with having fulfilled its duty. 

Remus walked back over to the table, sitting down as he opened the letter and began to read. It lacked her usual tight penmanship, and was written in a loose cursive scrawl instead. She must have been in a rush to write it. 

Remus, 

Amelia has informed me of Sirius’ innocence regarding the Potters. She received a letter from Gringotts, citing James and Lily’s wills. I cannot write in words the immense guilt I am feeling over Mr. Black, and I can only assume you must feel the same. If there is anything you need from me, please let me know. 

Furthermore, Amelia has begun the motions to reopen Sirius’ case. However, due to the other crimes he may or may not be guilty of, she does not foresee this to be an easy trial. Unless there is further evidence to prove Sirius’ innocence, there will be an immense struggle ahead of us. 

I wish I had more to say. Give Harry my best. I will keep you further informed on the proceedings of Sirius’ case and how this will affect Harry’s guardianship. 

-Minerva

“Well?” Sirius asked, having patiently waited for Remus to finish reading. 

“Well, she knows you didn’t betray James and Lily,” Remus frowned. “She doesn’t know about Peter, though. I’m not sure if I should tell her. I’d have to tell her about you, too. Minerva’s too smart to believe Peter became an unregistered Animagus by himself—especially when one of his best friends at Hogwarts was a werewolf.” 

Sirius’ lips curled downwards, and they both sat there with matching frowns for a moment. 

“Then we’ll just have to catch Peter ourselves,” Sirius said with assurance. Remus watched his expression falter instantly. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find a rat with a missing toe, yeah?” 

Remus thought they’d have an easier time breaking into Azkaban. 

“There’s millions of rats in Great Britain alone, Sirius, and what’s to think Peter actually stayed? He probably ran off to France or Switzerland by now.” 

Sirius just nodded in agreement. He seemed much more tired now. It seemed the weight of the world was finally taking a toll on him. A part of Remus felt bad for keeping him up all night. 

“Why don’t you go get some rest, Sirius,” Remus offered, collecting the dishes into the sink with a wave of his wand. “I’m going to wash up and then I’ll get breakfast started for the three of us. We can talk about this some more when Harry’s awake.” 

“You sure?” Sirius asked, standing up as well. “I can—”

“Sirius, you’ve been in Azkaban for the last seven years. I’m not making you wash dishes. Just close your eyes and wake up to the smell of breakfast. I’ve gotten better at this over the years.”

Sirius had already moved over to the doorway connecting the kitchen and sitting room. 

“I’ll just take a short nap then,” Sirius said. “Real quick, not even an hour.” 

“Not even an hour,” Remus repeated. 

He heard Sirius stumble onto the sofa. He cleaned up the kitchen, and when he left to go back upstairs, Sirius was fast asleep and snoring softly. 

After completing his morning routine, Remus walked out of the bathroom while drying his hair with a towel. He threw on a change of clothes and picked up the old book he found, thinking Sirius might want to take a look. Then, he went downstairs again. 

An unfamiliar screech owl sat on the window sill, letter in its beak. A flash of golden wax on the envelope indicated to Remus that it was a Gringotts letter. 

He took the letter from the owl, giving him a slight pat and an owl treat. It cooed once at him and then went on its way back to Gringotts. He peeled the wax off, put it on the counter, and opened the letter.

To Mr. Remus Lupin,

We at Gringotts have sent word to the DMLE of Sirius Black’s innocence in the betrayal of the Potters. Amelia Bones has received a full copy of the late Potters’ will, including their choice of guardianship. The Black family vaults will remain in stasis unless Mr. Black claims his estate.

Please note that while Gringotts is a wizarding bank, goblins are members of a sovereign nation and do not abide by Ministry law. 

May your magick always flow. 

Please drop this letter once you have finished with it.

After reading the last sentence, Remus read over the letter twice more to memorise the contents. When he was satisfied, he dropped the parchment from his hands and watched it burst into flame and turn to ashes. 

Well, goblin security was regarded highly for a reason, he supposed. 

Remus vanished the ashes with a wave of his wand and began to prepare their breakfast. He pulled out a few rashers of bacon, links of sausage, and several large eggs. A few moments later, the sizzle of everything frying took over the kitchen. 

He was slicing bread when his ears perked and he heard the sound of Harry’s footsteps moving around up the stairs. By the time he set the table and threw the kettle on, Harry was making his way downstairs. Rustling from the sitting room indicated Sirius was awake as well. He never was one to miss breakfast. 

“Good morning, Remus!” Harry exclaimed, climbing onto the nearest chair. 

“Good morning, Harry,” Remus replied, carrying over the tea set. “How did you sleep?” 

“Just fine, Remus,” Harry smiled, serving himself some eggs and bacon. “Astra really likes where we set up her tank; she said likes to feel the sun on her scales.” 

Remus gave him a short smile and sat down across from him. Sirius walked in then, passing by Harry and ruffling his hair, then sat down next to him.

“Morning, pup,” he greeted, a wide grin on his face. “What’s on the agenda for today?” 

“I want to take Astra out and show her around!” Harry looked at Sirius with wide eyes and a piece of egg on the corner of his mouth. “Can you stay for that?” 

“Of course, I will, Harry,” Sirius beamed. “Let’s eat up and then we’ll go out, yeah?” 

Harry nodded with enthusiasm and directed his attention to his plate of food instead. Sirius served himself a plate as well, and the three of them ate their breakfast. There were jokes shared and laughs laughed, and Remus was filled with a sense of hope and happiness that he hadn’t felt in years. 

Even Moony seemed content. 

It is why when they were finished with their breakfast, he did not argue when Sirius claimed it was his turn to do the dishes and Harry sprinted up the steps two at a time. Instead, Remus pulled out a sheet of parchment and quill set from a kitchen drawer and scrawled a letter to Minerva. 

He started by thanking her for her quick correspondence and update regarding Sirius. Ignoring the latter’s request to write her a ‘hello,’ Remus wrote that there was nothing else to be said about Sirius, and that Harry and he had a wonderful trip to the Alleys. He signed and sealed the letter, passing it to Patroclus’ beak. 

Harry returned with Heracles at his feet and Astra wrapped around his shoulders. Sirius wiped the last dish and put it on the rack. Remus summoned a pair of boots. 

“All set, Harry?” Remus asked, opening the door. “Try to stick close for now, we’ll be walking to the edge of the wards.” 

The Wolf’s Den was situated on a five hectare lot. It was originally a self-sustaining cottage meant for the keeper of the magical forest nearby. Their sole responsibility was to care for the forest. Over the years, the woods had grown wilder, and the job had become harder to complete. 

James’ father—Fleamont—knew the groundskeeper in passing, and heard he was leaving the forest after some time. James immediately told Sirius, who dipped into his inheritance from Arcturus to put a bid on the cottage. Together, they pooled enough to purchase it outright. The one thing the leaving groundskeeper warned them of was that the woods were strong, and they’d need to be wary. 

The day after graduation, they blindfolded and Apparated Remus to the door and forced him to accept his—mostly Moony’s—cottage. They spent the next night’s full moon running around the fields, but Moony never wandered towards the woods.

The first year was a year Remus would never forget. 

Most of those memories still fueled his Patronus. 

Lily moved out and into the Wolf’s Den, and turned into their project. They spent that first year renovating. Sirius and James enchanted the loft and rooms, added the candles, and set up the Floo. Lily set up a beautiful garden and Remus set up the basement lab. They spent their days working and researching, and their nights sitting around the fire and inviting their friends from Hogwarts. Peter had mostly stayed at home that year, having to tend to his sick father near Great Hangleton. 

The second year was about the same. This time, the war ran a little closer to their shores. Dumbledore started the Order, and they were quick to join. The Wolf’s Den was a refuge for them—for now. James and Lily had gotten married, and Potter Manor was no longer safe. Sirius, while he had his flat, chose to spend most of his time in the Den, as well. After James and Lily had their first encounter with Voldemort, the four of them spent weeks warding the grounds. 

Once they moved to Godric’s Hollow to start their family, the Den never felt the same. 

It was only now, seeing Harry run across the field with Padfoot at his side, that Remus could remember what it felt like before. 

It felt like home again. 

“Remus, what’s that?” Harry asked, pulling him out of his musings. 

Remus looked around. They were walking near the edge of the wards, near the beginning of the path into the woods. 

It was not the entrance that Harry was looking at though—it was the large spectral buzzard perched on the first tree. It squawked once at them, took off from the branch and flew deeper into the woods. 

Strange.

Before Remus could even consider Moony’s thoughts, Harry bolted at once after the buzzard. Heracles ran after, hissing behind him. Padfoot barked twice, once in warning and one in frustration, and sprinted after them. 

Remus sighed. 

He was reminded of the Marauder’s first entrance to the Forbidden Forest—their fifth night at Hogwarts. 

He never liked running. 

He made his way up to the entrance, when a flare of pain shot through his skull. He groaned, leaning against the tree the buzzard was first found on. 

Run.  

Didn’t he just say he didn’t like to run? He looked around him, but the sides of his vision were turning white. He couldn’t think past the pressure in his head. His heartbeat was getting louder, akin to drums being played on his skull. 

Run.

His clothes were getting itchy. His skin was getting hot, but his body was feeling cold. It felt like his blood was frosting over and his bones were cracking. His shoes felt too big for him, and he ripped off his jumper in a panic. It was getting tighter. 

The world was getting darker, but his headache was getting stronger. 

Remus, RUN. 

A howl echoed through the woods. 

A wolf with tawny brown fur sprinted along the path on all fours, nose turned high in search of his pack. 

Something was not right in these woods.