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Chapter Text

And there were the Dementors. They were emerging out of the darkness from every direction, gliding around the edges of the lake... They were moving away from where Harry stood, to the opposite bank… He wouldn't have to get near them…

Harry began to run. He had no thought in his head except his father... If it was him… if it really was him… he had to know, had to find out…

The lake was coming nearer and nearer, but there was no sign of anybody. On the opposite bank, he could see tiny glimmers of silver –  his own attempts at a Patronus –

There was a bush at the very edge of the water. Harry threw himself behind it, peering desperately through the leaves. On the opposite bank, the glimmers of silver were suddenly extinguished. A terrified excitement shot through him – any moment now –

"Come on!" he muttered, staring about. "Where are you? Dad, come on –”

Finally, a man came out from behind the bushes – how Harry hadn’t spotted him earlier, he didn’t know –, raised his wand, and out came a galloping stag. It was just as bright, just as majestic as Harry remembered. And the man, illuminated by the light of the Patronus, looked a lot like Harry. Just like everyone had always told Harry. He was a bit taller and a bit more muscular, of course, but the hair, the face shape, even the round glasses... That was Harry’s dad.

It was completely impossible, but that was James Potter, standing not even 10 metres away.

Ignoring everything Hermione had told him about not being seen, about all the bad things that could happen if they messed with time, Harry ran out from his hiding place and shouted, “Dad!”

He didn’t respond right away, but as Harry got closer, the man turned towards him.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Harry came to a stop. “I’m Harry. Harry Potter.”

His dad frowned. “That’s impossible. My – Why did you call me dad?”

“Because you’re my dad, aren’t you? You just saved my life.”

“I can’t be. I have a son named Harry, but he’s only a baby, not even two years old.”

“That’s me, I’m your son. You died when I was a baby, but that was 12 years ago.”

“How –“ He stopped when he spotted Hermione running towards them, pulling Buckbeak with her.

“Harry!” She was furious, but Harry couldn’t find it in himself to care. “What are you doing, I told you to stay hidden!”

“But Hermione, look! I told you I saw my dad, and he’s actually here!”

“Harry, please be logical, he can’t be your dad.”

“I completely agree, I am much too young to have a son his age,” Harry’s dad said.

Hermione gave both of them a long look, clearly trying to work out what was going on. Then, with a glance past them towards their past selves, she whispered, “Quickly, hide, Snape’s waking up.”

They all hid behind the bushes and watched as the unconscious bodies of Harry, Hermione, Sirius and Snape were put on stretchers and floated to the castle.

“What do you mean, Snape? Surely that can’t be Snivellus... No one in in their right mind would let him become a teacher, surely? Merlin, is that Sirius? What happened to him?” James murmured.

Harry didn’t know whether he actually wanted the answers to those questions, and regardless, he didn’t have the time to explain all of that. They were on a mission after all.

“We’ve got 45 minutes to get back to the hospital wing,” Hermione reminded Harry. “And we have to save Sirius, then afterwards we can figure out what’s happening here. Can you just... stay in the forest until we come get you, Mr… um... sir?”

“Sure. I’m not sure where else I would go anyway.”

“Okay. Thanks. Oh, and it’s a full moon tonight and Professor Lupin is running around somewhere, but you’re an animagus, aren’t you?”

“How do you know – Professor Lupin? Moony’s a teacher now?”

Hermione was already pulling Harry away. “Just stay safe and hidden until we come back, please,” she called back.

Harry just waved, then followed Hermione to a better spot from which to watch the castle. They got on Buckbeak and flew off to save Harry’s godfather. Getting him out of the castle and onto Buckbeak was surprisingly easy, but when it came time to say goodbye, Harry couldn’t just let him go without telling him just how strange of a turn the evening had taken.

“I think I saw my dad earlier,” Harry said. He knew it made him sound like he’d lost his marbles, but he just had to say it. What if it really was his dad? Wouldn’t Sirius need to know that his best friend wasn’t dead after all?

Sirius became completely still, staring at Harry with wide eyes. Hermione sighed. 

“You should really go, they might find us any minute now –“ Hermione tried.

Sirius slid off Buckbeak.

“You know that this is likely a trap, right?” he said.

Harry nodded.

“I’ll go check it out. Where is he?” he asked.

“Don’t –“

“In the forest, by the lake,” Harry said.

In less than a second, Sirius had transformed into his dog form and sprinted through the doorway and down the stairs. For a while, they could hear his paws tapping on the stone steps, then even that was gone.

As much as Harry would have liked to follow him, he knew that he and Hermione had to get back to the hospital wing. They got under the Cloak and hurried down the stairs and towards the hospital wing as fast as they could while still making sure they would neither be seen nor heard by anyone they passed. They saw the Minister, Snape as well as Peeves on their way there, but all three of them were so busy arguing (or cackling, in Peeves’ case) that it wasn’t hard to go unnoticed.

Harry could feel the disapproval radiating off Hermione the whole way there, but he didn’t care. This wasn’t her dead dad who’d suddenly appeared, after all.

They reached the hospital wing just in time. Dumbledore already had his wand in his hand in order to lock the door when Harry and Hermione came to a stop in front of him. He looked as calm and content as ever.

Before Dumbledore could even open his mouth, Harry already told him, “Professor, you need to come to the lake with us!”

Dumbledore’s smile disappeared in an instant. “What happened? Did someone see you?”

“Well...” Harry said. The immediate excitement of finding his dad was dwindling and he realised just how risky his exposure had been.

Hermione took over for him. “We saw a man and Harry thinks it’s his dad, but of course that can’t be because... Well…”

Dumbledore looked at her, pensive, then at Harry. “It is highly unlikely that it was James Potter,” he said. He took a moment to listen through the hospital door, then told them, “I think you’re gone now. I’ll be back out in a moment.”

Dumbledore went inside and exchanged a few words with Madam Pomfrey, who did not look satisfied with the conversation at all but seemingly yielded to Dumbledore’s ruling.

“I want my patients back by morning,” she said in her usual no-nonsense tone of voice.

“Of course,” Dumbledore said. Even the headmaster wasn’t immune to that tone.

“Come on,” he said to Harry and Hermione as he walked past them. “You can tell me exactly what happened on the way.”

Harry and Hermione hurried to catch up with him.

Half an hour later, all five of them were in Dumbledore’s office; Dumbledore (who looked more serious than Harry had ever seen him before), Harry’s dad and Sirius (who both looked at each other with absolute bafflement), Hermione (who kept glancing in between Harry and his dad), and Harry himself.

Somehow, miraculously, Dumbledore and Sirius both agreed, after a million spells and questions that Harry’s dad endured with growing impatience at having none of his own questions answered, that this man was indeed who he (and Harry) claimed he was. James Potter, returned from the dead. No one had any idea how it happened, but somehow, he was here. Alive.

Finally, Dumbledore started talking.

"Now, this evening has brought on quite a few surprises for everyone. I think it is best if we try to limit the people involved in this to the ones in this room for the time being.”

Later on, Harry would find that he had no recollection of what exactly was discussed in that meeting. He spent the whole time staring at his dad, looking for all the ways in which they were similar. He could tell that Sirius was paying just as little attention as Harry was, and even Hermione kept getting distracted by the presence of Harry’s supposedly dead dad in the room.

He did start listening when Dumbledore mentioned the Dursleys. “It would be most prudent that Harry return to Vernon and Petunia Dursley this summer,” he said. “We do not yet know what this means for the protection placed on Harry, and so it will be necessary to renew –“

“No!” Harry shouted.

“What?” Harry’s dad glanced in between Harry and Dumbledore. “What are you talking about, going to Petunia? You’re talking about Lily’s sister, right?”

“I grew up with them,” Harry explained. “But they’re awful! Sirius offered me that I could stay with him earlier, and now that you’re here…”

His dad now fully turned towards Dumbledore, glaring at him. “Why would Harry have ever been sent to Petunia of all people? We clearly stated in our will that he was to go live with Sirius or Remus or –“

He stopped. Harry, who now knew the actual story of what had happened that Halloween night, knew what his father must just have realised, or at least remembered.

“Peter….” he whispered.

He managed to shake himself out of it. “What happened? Why wasn’t my son with Sirius and Remus like we explicitly wrote in our will?”

That was how Harry heard the story for the second time that night, but he wasn’t listening. My son, my son, my son. 

“What matters now,” Dumbledore continued, earning himself a rather disrespectful snort from Harry’s dad, “is that we find a way to proceed from here. Personally, I believe that the best thing for young Harry is for him to remain with his relatives, seeing as –”

“No, I refuse!” Harry shouted again. Why wasn’t anyone listening to him?

“You won’t be,” Sirius said. “I saw those relatives last summer, they are not fit to be anyone’s guardians, least of all yours. And there’s nothing Dumbledore can do against that –” Here he glared in Dumbledore’s direction “- because James is your dad and I’m your godfather. This is not a headmaster’s decision to make.”

Harry was astounded how these two men could be so disrespectful against Dumbledore, but he guessed it made sense for them to be angry at the headmaster. He hadn’t helped Sirius when he’d been in prison for a crime he never committed, and he’d put Harry with his aunt and uncle when that hadn’t been what really should have happened. He should have grown up with Sirius or, because that wasn’t possible, with Professor Lupin. Speaking of which…

“What’s going to happen to Professor Lupin now?” Harry asked.

“He will spend the rest of the night in the Forbidden Forest. He’s safe there and he can’t harm anyone. Then, tomorrow, we will explain everything to him. I imagine that this will be quite a shock to him.”

“We should wait and let him help decide what to do now,” Sirius said. “He was always the smartest of us.”

“I agree,” said Harry’s dad.

Dumbledore didn’t look too happy, either because it would postpone the decision or because again, Sirius and Harry’s dad were taking charge of the conversation without caring what Dumbledore might have to say about it. Still, he agreed to wait with making a final decision until the next day.

“Until then, however, I would like to contain the news of what has happened. I will have rooms prepared for you to sleep in and I would like you to stay there.” He looked pointedly at Sirius and Harry’s dad.

“Great, another prison cell,” Sirius murmured.

“I assure you, it is quite a bit larger than an Azkaban cell.” Dumbledore turned to Harry and Hermione. “You will spend the night in your dorm rooms. You may talk to Mr Weasley about this, but please make sure to do so without any eavesdroppers.”

Harry was disappointed he wouldn’t see his dad again for an entire day but nodded.

His dad turned towards him. “I know it’s been a very exciting and confusing evening for you, but I promise we will figure everything out. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Harry nodded before giving his dad a quick hug. It was amazing. He was hugging his actual dad!

Then, with a last look back, Harry followed Hermione out of the room.

Neither of them went up to their dorms immediately. Harry spent an hour just staring at the Marauder’s Map, watching his father move around the suite he’d been given. It was the only way he could convince himself that this wasn’t all just a strange dream. Hermione was mostly quiet, busy processing everything she’d seen and heard and trying to make sense of it.

Harry didn’t need to make sense of it. He didn’t care what exactly had happened, only that it had.

They both slept for a long time, exhausted from the day before. When Harry did wake up, the first thing he did was pull the map out from under his pillow and check it again. There he was, James Potter. Just moving around Hogwarts as if nothing had ever happened.

He kept checking the map in between every step of getting ready for the day, just to make sure. It was how he saw the moment that his dad woke up and started moving around again while Sirius’ dot stayed immobile, although at a different spot than where he’d gone to sleep the night before.

Harry did feel a bit weird about keeping such close watch, but only a little. And it was definitely worth the peace of mind it gave him.

Harry and Hermione went down for breakfast together, but Harry didn’t eat much. He was too distracted by watching Dumbledore’s every move, enough so that Hermione took the spoon out of his hand when he’d missed his mouth for the third time.

The Great Hall was almost empty, most people already having left for one last Hogsmeade visit or just to enjoy the sun of a beautiful day without classes or exams. The few students still eating breakfast were chattering excitedly amongst themselves, but Harry didn’t care what about. There was always some rumour going around the school, and it was rarely anything important. Right now, nothing could be as important as the news of his dad’s return, and that couldn’t have got out yet. People would be looking at him if it had, and so far, everyone was ignoring him (which Harry didn’t at all mind).

Dumbledore came by their table on the way out. “Please report to the hospital wing so Poppy can check you over once you are done with eating,” he said.

He was already walking away but Harry ran after him. “Wait! What’s happening today? Are we all meeting up to talk about what happened?”

Dumbledore stopped for a moment, said, “I will let you know,” then walked off.

Harry didn’t know whether he was genuinely in a hurry or just didn’t want to answer Harry’s questions. Either way, he was not happy with that answer, and he didn’t dare go to his dad or Sirius just yet, so there was only one obvious choice: Lupin.

“We need to talk to Lupin,” he told Hermione.

“Sure. But first we need to go to the hospital wing,” she replied.

“Really? I feel fine.”

“Me too, but Madam Pomfrey won’t leave us alone until she’s checked us out and we need to tell Ron about last night.”

“Oh, right.”

Harry felt just a tiny bit bad for not thinking about Ron, but in his defence… a lot had happened.

They dutifully went to the hospital wing, let Madam Pomfrey run a few spells on them until she was happy with the results, promised to take it easy and left with a very confused Ron in tow.

He had a lot of questions, all of which Harry ignored. He was in a hurry; Ron would get his answers later. Hermione tried to answer the questions in a hurry, but Harry didn’t think Ron understood a single word of what she was saying. To be fair, it was a strange story.

They knocked on Lupin’s door, and when he let them in, they saw a half empty office and Lupin with a stack of books floating behind him.

“Oh, you’re leaving?” Harry said. In his mind, he was already planning to hide in the suitcase to be taken along to live with Lupin, Sirius and his dad. 

Lupin frowned. “I am. To be quite honest, I didn’t expect you to be so excited about it.”

He looked sad, and Harry didn’t understand why. “Aren’t you going to live with Sirius and my dad?”

Lupin just stared at Harry, the books behind him stilling in the air.

“I don’t think he’s heard,” Hermione said, quietly.

“What? Then why would you be leaving if not for that? The school year’s not over yet.”

“What do you mean, live with Sirius and your dad?” Lupin said.

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing, they’ve been talking about time travel and resurrection and none of it makes an ounce of sense,” Ron said, and he was obviously annoyed by it all. Harry couldn’t get himself to care.

“I think maybe we should all sit down,” Hermione said. “There’s a lot to explain.”

They did sit down, Lupin letting himself fall down rather than a controlled movement, and Hermione explained everything that had happened over the last 24 hours or so. Ron thought it was all bonkers, but that magic did funny things and besides, the three of them seemed to attract weird things happening anyway so sure, why not. Time travel, resurrection. It neatly fit on the pile of things they’d experienced so far.

Lupin had not experienced those things with them and besides that, he looked like he might collapse if any of it was actually true. He told them they there was no way any of that was actually true and that he would make a visit to the headmaster post-haste.

He got up and held onto the back of the chair for just a moment before hurrying out the door. Harry, Ron and Hermione went after him, almost running in order to keep up. Lupin was surprisingly quick, considering how much he favoured one leg. Harry also thought he could see blood seeping through the sleeve of his shirt.

In record time, they reached Dumbledore’s office. The gargoyle let him in without question and once Lupin reached the office door, he didn’t so much knock as hammer on Dumbledore’s door. He was promptly let in and without wasting a second, walked straight towards Dumbledore and asked, “Is it true?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said. Neither of them cared to elaborate on what ‘it’ was, but Harry agreed that there really wasn’t any need. On days like this, there could only be one ‘it’.

“How?”

“I have no idea.”

“Where is he?”

“In a set of rooms on the second floor. You will see him soon enough, we have a lot to discuss and Mr Potter and Mr Black insisted on including you in that conversation.”

“I’ll be leaving with them,” Lupin said, and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind about this being a statement rather than a request. He flicked his wand and a piece of paper appeared on Dumbledore’s desk. “Here’s my resignation.”

“You can’t resign!” Harry said. “You’re the best teacher we’ve ever had!”

 Lupin turned towards him. “Harry, I appreciate it, but I cannot stay. Now that everyone knows –“

“Everyone knows? I thought we’re keeping it a secret until we figure out what to do?”

“That’s not what – Have you really not heard? I thought every student in the castle would have heard by now, but of course, if you’ve been… The students found out about my being a werewolf. They will be telling their parents and soon, there’ll be complaints about me putting the lives of their children at risk. After last night, I really can’t blame them. It was irresponsible of me, and I cannot possibly stay at this school, knowing that I came so close to hurting students.”

Well, that explained the conversations during breakfast…

“Who told them?”

“It must have been Snape,” Ron said. “He was in the hospital wing last night, looking for you two. He was absolutely furious, screaming about you helping a criminal and him losing an Order of Merlin because of it.”

“It was,” Lupin confirmed.

“That –“ Ron began, but Hermione’s “Ronald!” cut him off before he could say anything that would get him into trouble.

“Either way, my decision to resign is final. And I want to see James,” Lupin said. Harry, who’d been snickering at Ron’s almost insult, became serious again. Yes, he wanted to see his dad again, too.

“What about Harry? Can he live with his father during the summer?” Hermione asked.

Dumbledore sighed. “That is the big question. As I said yesterday, I believe it to be in everyone’s best interest if Harry –“

“No,” said Lupin. “You can’t possibly expect Harry to continue to live with his relatives if his father really is alive. That would be cruel, and you have no right to decide over his living situation, not with James in the picture.”

Harry smiled at Lupin, and he smiled back. Now it really was Dumbledore against everybody else, and Harry could see it in his face the moment he gave up.

“Fine,” he said. “I see that I am being outvoted on this issue. Harry can live with his father.”

Harry cheered, and Ron and Hermione celebrated with him while Lupin just watched, still smiling.

“Can we go see him now?” Harry asked.

Lupin sobered immediately. “Let’s go,” he said.

Dumbledore didn’t protest, and Harry started to really question who was actually in charge here. The headmaster had always seemed like the all-knowing, good-meaning headmaster, but now that all three of these men had gone against him and treated him like a threat rather than this wise old grandfatherly figure…

Whatever. Harry had more important things to think about.

They stood in front of the door, and that was the first time that Lupin really seemed nervous. He’d been all energy and rage before; now he was the opposite.

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked him.

“Yes, yes, of course. I just…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he took a deep breath and knocked.

Harry’s dad was the one who opened the door. “Remus! It’s good to see you, buddy!” he said.

Lupin stood still in the doorway, staring at the man in front of him. Harry stood behind him, also staring. He’d forgotten just how similar his dad looked to the photos in his photo album. It made sense, of course; he hadn’t had time to change because so little time had passed in between his graduation, wedding, Harry being born and then his parents’ death. But still… It was eerie, in a way. A picture come to life.

“Do you all want to come in? Sirius is in the bath right now, but he’ll be out soon.” He gestured for them to come in, so one after another, Lupin, Harry, Hermione, and Ron all filed into the room.

It was a nice set of rooms, very spacious and comfortable. It had its own kitchen, and Harry could hear running water through one of the closed doors. There were chairs and two-person couches around a fireplace, similar to how the Gryffindor common room was set up. Harry wondered whether there were similar suites in the castle that more closely resembled the other common rooms.

Harry’s dad sat down in one of the chairs, and the others followed. He turned towards Lupin.

“Well then,” he said. “I assume you have a lot of questions, and I’m sorry but I can’t answer any of them. I have no idea why this is happening, but I promise that it is happening. It’s really me.”

“What was the first prank we played on the Slytherins?”

“We rained water balloons on them on the way to breakfast.”

“What was the last thing I ever said to you?”

“You told me you were going to be gone for a few days, and you asked me about my plans for Sirius’ birthday. “

Harry thought his dad might be bothered by being questioned again that way, but he didn’t seem perturbed. He just calmly answered them. 

“H-“ Lupin began, then cleared his throat. “How?”

“I told you, I don’t know. But good thing you’re on the case now, that way we’ll know within hours, eh?” He grinned.

“Don’t be a git. Come here.”

They hugged, in the same desperate way that Lupin had hugged Sirius the night before. This really must be a weird and stressful two days for him, Harry thought, what with him being all alone and then suddenly regaining two of his best friends in such a short time span.

“But yes,” Harry heard Lupin whisper. “I will be looking into it.”

Harry’s dad laughed. It was the most beautiful sound Harry had ever heard.

They spent most of the day together, talking. Ron and Hermione left after about an hour, Ron following Hermione’s rather unsubtle cue to leave the others alone. Harry stayed until dinnertime, and so did Lupin.

A lot of that time was spent reminiscing about the Marauders’ adventures together, especially once Sirius joined in. He looked better after his bath; his hair had been cut to only just above his shoulders and didn’t look like a rat’s nest anymore, and he was clean and dressed in actual clothes.

Harry loved listening to the stories. So far, he’d heard only how kind and brave his parents had been and how much they’d loved him, which had of course been wonderful to hear. For someone who didn’t have a single memory of his parents and had been told nothing but a few lies, any bit of information was invaluable. But these stories really made them all seem alive.

Yes, his dad had been brave and kind, but he’d – he was also snarky and occasionally jealous and creative. His mum had been smart and beautiful, but also competitive to the point of ridiculousness, and fiercely defensive of her friends. She’d been a force to be reckoned with and Harry was so, so glad to have his dad here in the room with him, but he couldn’t help but wonder where his mum was. If he’d come back from the dead, why hadn’t she? Why couldn’t this bit of magic have applied to both of his parents?

Harry’s dad also asked him about his childhood. That was where the conversation turned more serious. Harry didn’t go into a lot of detail, mostly because he didn’t want his dad to feel bad. It wasn’t really his fault for not having been there, Harry knew that.

But Harry did tell him the rough outline of what his childhood had been like. About how his aunt and uncle had always preferred his cousin over him, how his cousin had told lies about him at school and got all the teachers to believe him, how he’d never known about the magical world until Hagrid had shown up. Harry tried to leave out all the worst parts, he really did, but his dad was still upset by what he heard.

From that day, it was exactly one week until the end of the school year, and for the first time in his life, Harry couldn’t wait for the start of the summer holidays. He spent a lot of time with his dad, Sirius, and Lupin, and so he got to listen to them figure out where to move.

Harry’s dad and Sirius were supposed to spend the entirety of that week in their suite, careful not to be seen by anybody but the few people who were in the know. Harry was thankful for the way everyone agreed to keep this a secret for now. He wanted to be able to enjoy these last few days at Hogwarts and not become the number one topic of conversation once again.

Only Madame Pomfrey had been added to the list of people who knew and had since come by several times for thorough check-ups for both of them and to see whether Sirius was responding well to his treatment. He’d got a regiment of several potions a day that were supposed to help him overcome the physical effects of so many years in prison and the one year he’d spent on the run as well as help with sleeping issues. Harry hadn’t been allowed at those appointments, so he didn’t know a lot, but it was clear that Sirius wasn’t doing as well as he let on.

As for his dad, there didn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with him, which only added to the confusion of what exactly had happened.

Lupin did not have orders to stay in the suite, but he did so anyway to spend time with his friends but also to avoid being seen in the castle. News of his lycanthropy had reached the parents and newspapers, and if it hadn’t been for Sirius and James, he’d have left the day after the full moon and hidden from the wizarding world as much as possible.  

Of course, none of them actually stayed in those rooms a hundred per cent of the time. Harry gave them his cloak and map (were they even still his, now that his dad was back?) and just hoped they had enough experience not to get caught.

Lupin mostly used this to get to the library and do research, where he was occasionally joined by Hermione, who was also very interested to know how such a miracle could possibly happen. What Sirius and his dad did with the cloak and map, Harry didn’t know, but he assumed the Slytherins would find out before the school year was over.

They also made plans for how to find Peter Pettigrew, which Harry also wasn’t allowed to listen to, just in case he got ideas of wanting to join in. Harry suspected that Lupin had been the one to make that rule because he still hadn’t forgiven him for sneaking out to Hogsmeade, even if it had since then become clear that he’d never been in any danger.

Those times, Harry spent outside, playing chess with Ron or just lying in the grass and chatting about the upcoming summer while enjoying the sun.

“Do you think your dad will make you go to bed early?” Ron would ask, and Harry would smirk and say, “No way, I bet he’ll let me stay up as long as I want.”

Or Harry would ask, “Do you think you can come over to my house this summer?” and Ron would say, “That would be so cool! Tell your dad to get you a proper Quidditch pitch, so we can play.”

The anticipation was killing Harry. He would get the dream childhood he’d always wanted with his actual dad. He would never have to see the Dursleys again! This was shaping up to be the best summer of his life by miles.

The adults planned and Harry dreamt and soon, it was the day before everyone would leave to go home. Harry, Ron and Hermione were in the Great Hall, enjoying a last drawn-out breakfast – as much as Harry knew that it would make his life easier to pack today, he knew himself well enough to know that he inevitably would scramble to pack everything tomorrow morning, and so there wouldn’t be a lot of time for breakfast. It was just in his nature to do it that way. Maybe he could ask his dad whether that particular set of genes was his fault or his mum’s…

The peaceful breakfast was interrupted when the owls started coming in.

Conversations that had been at normal volume before turned into whispers and heads started turning towards Harry.

“Oh no,” he said. He knew exactly what this meant because in a way, he’d been waiting for this to happen.

“Come on, let’s go,” Hermione said and pulled him away by his arm.

Harry let himself be led away and just followed where Hermione pulled. Soon, they were standing in front of the door leading to the suite. Hermione knocked.

“Who’s there?” came a voice from beyond the door.

“Harry, Ron and Hermione,” Hermione said.

Sirius opened the door. “Have you seen the papers?” he asked while stepping aside to let them in.

“No,” Harry said. “But we guessed what’s going on. How did they find out?”

“We don’t know yet,” Harry’s dad said from the kitchen.

“What are we going to do?” Harry asked.

“Leave,” said Lupin, as he emerged from one of the bedrooms. He’d clearly just been woken up, all tousle-haired and yawning. If Harry didn’t know any better, he would have said he almost looked like a normal person rather than a teacher.

“To go where?”

“Home,” said Harry’s dad with a smile.

Harry was sent back to his dorms where he packed his trunk while Ron and Hermione did their best to hold off their nosy classmates.

Harry had never packed so quickly, partially because he wanted to get away from all the questions, but also because this meant he was finally getting to see his new home. It took him no longer than ten minutes to get everything packed and go back to the suite, where his dad, Sirius, Lupin as well as Dumbledore were already waiting.

“Are you ready?” Harry’s dad asked.

“Yeah.”

His dad matched his big grin. “Then let’s go.”

Harry said goodbye to Ron and Hermione and promised to write to both of them. Meanwhile, Lupin and Sirius  Flooed to a location called ‘Rosegate Cottage’.

“Go on ahead, I’ll be right behind you,” Harry’s dad said.

“Okay.”

Harry threw a handful of Floo Powder in the fireplace, said “Rosegate Cottage” as clearly as he could (because he was not going to risk another Knockturn Alley incident, not today) and was whisked away to his new home.

Even just from the one room, Harry could tell that this place was beautiful. There were large windows letting in lots of natural light and showing off the vast garden surrounding the building. In the distance, there really was what looked like a Quidditch pitch, so Harry wouldn’t even have to beg his dad to give him one. It was the perfect home.

Harry moved aside to make space for his dad, all the while looking around. The room seemed to be a living room, and it was set out to host a lot of guests. It was held in light colours and looked cosy and inviting.

“Come on, I’ll give you a tour of the house,” Harry’s dad said.

He led him through the kitchen, a smaller living room, showed him the bathroom, and then the bedrooms upstairs. The house wasn’t huge, but it was bigger than the Dursleys’ house. The theme of comfortable seating and large windows continued through the whole house, and Harry could see himself being very happy in a place like this.

“And this is your bedroom,” his dad told him. “Do you like it?” 

“I love it!” Harry said, and he meant it. The bedroom was around the same size as the one at the Dursleys’ (the actual bedroom, not the cupboard), but it had a balcony and a big bed. There was also a chest of drawers and a wardrobe as well as a desk and chair.

“You can decorate however you want, we can charm the walls different colours, just tell me what you want, okay?”

“Awesome, thank you!”

“We’ve got a lot of fun to catch up on, and I intend to do my best,” his dad said with a cheeky grin.

“Challenge accepted,” Harry said and laughed. 

That first day at the new house was amazing. It was absolutely perfect. There was so much laughter, all day long, and they played Quidditch and had Harry’s favourite foods for lunch and dinner and there were many more stories about the good old days of when the Marauders had terrorised the Slytherins with their pranks.

Some of the stories, Harry wasn’t too sure about. Had they maybe gone too far? It didn’t sound like the Slytherins had ever provoked the more extreme examples of pranks done on them, but Harry kept quiet. He didn’t know the full story, and he didn’t want to be the one to destroy everyone’s good mood.

Besides, they were Slytherins. They probably deserved it.

After dinner, Lupin left to go check on his own house. Harry had got quite used to having him be part of the group all the time, but he guessed it made sense. After a full school year, he must want to get back to his own home.

Sirius was still on the run and therefore did not have a home to go to, so he would be staying here for the foreseeable future, which Harry did not mind at all.

Harry went to bed, happy to be in his new room, but it took him a while to fall asleep. Everything was too new, and he was still buzzing with excitement. After a while, he gave up and decided to go down for a glass of water. Accidentally, he wandered into the living room instead of the kitchen, where he saw his father crying into Sirius’ shoulders.

“Dad?” he asked, hesitantly.

“Go back to bed,” came his dad’s harsh answer.

Harry shrunk back. “I’m sorry, I just –“

“Just go!”

Quickly, Harry went back to his bedroom. He didn’t get his glass of water, and he didn’t really get any sleep after that. He just sat on his bed, the blanket pulled up to his chin, and wondered whether this had all been a mistake. When before, this room had felt like a new home full of possibilities, now it felt like a dark unknown where anything might happen.

He realised that he did not know this man. Didn’t know either of these men, really. One of them had come back from the dead and the other from a decade in Azkaban. What if it had fundamentally changed both of them?

What if his dad wasn’t as kind as everyone had always said?

What if he just didn’t like Harry?

Really, there wasn’t any reason why he should like Harry. He didn’t know him anymore than Harry knew him. They were complete strangers and here Harry was, just moving in with him when they would rather not have to deal with a teenager. Surely both of them wanted to enjoy life now they had it or would rather concentrate on hunting down Pettigrew.

Actually, this all made perfect sense. Of course they didn’t want Harry here.

Since Harry barely slept that night, he had time to make a plan. He would try to be as helpful as he could doing household chores – at least he had plenty of practice there thanks to the Dursleys. Otherwise, he would stay in his room and stay out of the others’ way as much as possible, only going down for meals. He was going to do everything he could for them to like him, or at least not be annoyed by him.

In the morning, he got up early and went to the kitchen – using the correct door this time – to make breakfast. He didn’t know what they would would like, but fortunately, the fridge and pantry were well filled, so he created a full English breakfast. Everyone liked a fry-up, didn’t they?

He tried his best to be quiet, and when both his dad and Sirius showed up, he hoped it was because of the smell and not because he’d been too loud. They seemed to be more confused than angry though. Harry had grown up with Vernon Dursley, he knew every kind of angry.

They both sat down at the kitchen table, and Harry served them their food. He made himself a plate too, and they either approved or didn’t care because they were too busy tucking in. Either way, Harry was glad to have at least one point ticked on his list of questions of what life was going to be like from now on. At least so far, food seemed not to be an issue.

They both ate a lot, which Harry took to be a good sign.

After breakfast, Harry washed up and put away the dishes, and that part felt a lot like any other summer had felt, even if the people in the background were different.

Meanwhile, his dad and Sirius were in the living room, planning something.

“I’ll be up in my room, if that’s okay,” Harry said, and got a hmm in return.

He wrote letters to Ron and Hermione, telling them all about the house and asking how their summers were going so far. There was a lot to write about, and he knew that Hermione especially would want to know every detail. Then he did his Transformation and Charms homework. By the time that was done, it was already evening and Harry went to sleep soon after dinner.

The next day was more of the same. Harry made breakfast, then excused himself. This time, his father asked, “Going back up to your room already?”

“Uh, yeah,” Harry said. “Should I –“

“No, that’s okay. Do what you want.”

“Okay.”

Was he doing something wrong? Should he be doing garden work or cleaning? Both the garden and the house looked spotless still, and his dad hadn’t specified which he wanted. Worried, Harry went up to his room to do more homework – he couldn’t think of any other way to pass the time – but he couldn’t concentrate.

Harry sat on his bed, unsuccessfully flickering through his Defence book for a piece of information about Hinkypunks that he knew must be in there. There was a knock on his door.

“Yes?”

It was Lupin.

“Hello, Harry, how are you settling in?”

“It’s okay,” Harry said.

“Everything’s pretty new, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you feel comfortable in your new home?”

Harry hesitated. He felt more comfortable here than he did at the Dursley’s, but then again, that wasn’t a very high bar to set. Just because he hadn’t explicitly been told that he was unwelcome or been starved yet didn’t mean that he felt comfortable. He certainly didn’t feel as comfortable here as he did at Hogwarts or at the Burrow, not after last night…

Lupin began to frown at the lack of an answer, so Harry hastily said, “Yeah, of course, it’s great!”

“Harry, can I ask why you’ve been in your room all day? It’s okay if you want to stay up here, of course, it is yours after all, but I just would have expected you to want to spend every free second with your father and godfather. You enjoyed spending time together while you were still at Hogwarts, didn’t you?”

“I did, yeah!”

“But not anymore?”

“I –“

“Did something happen, Harry?”

Harry didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what the correct answer here was. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to be honest with Lupin and have him make everything as perfect as it had been while at Hogwarts. But on the other hand, he knew that Lupin was first and foremost best friends with his dad and godfather, and so surely he would agree that they had a right to enjoy their freedom without being burdened with having to take care of Harry.

“Hmm. Do you mind if I call the others up here so we can talk?”

Harry shrugged.

Lupin called for both of them to come up, so it was Harry sitting on his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest, Lupin sitting on the bed about a foot away from him, and then James and Sirius standing in front of them.

“Now,” Lupin started, “what exactly happened while I was gone?”

“Nothing happened, what are you talking about?” Harry’s dad said.

“Something must have happened because when I left, Harry was all sunshine and rainbows and now he’s hiding in his room and not talking to anyone.”

Both his dad and Sirius stared at Harry, and Harry mentally cursed Lupin for bringing this up in the first place. It was fine, he would have figured out the rules of this place without making a big deal of it.

“Harry came down two nights ago while we were…” Sirius said, looking at James.

“We were talking about Lily,” James finished. “We told him to go back upstairs because I didn’t want him to see me cry. A child shouldn’t see their parent cry, it’s not right, is it?”

Lupin ignored the question. “How did you say it?”

“What do you mean?”

“How did you tell him to go upstairs?”

“I just told him to go to bed, what’s the big deal?”

Lupin sighed. “You didn’t explain anything? You just sent him away?”

“Yeah. But Harry knew I didn’t mean anything by it, didn’t you, Harry?”

Again, all eyes were on Harry. He shrugged.

“Harry, you know you’re wanted here, right?” Lupin asked.

“I – yeah, sure,” Harry said.

“Of course he does,” his dad argued. “He’s my son, why wouldn’t he be wanted? But if he keeps hiding up in his room, how are we supposed to spend any time together and get to know each other?”

Lupin sighed. “Maybe we should all try to start again, does that work for you?”

Harry’s dad nodded, and so Harry nodded too. Sure, he could start again. He’d just have to be a little more careful from now on. He’d clearly made a big mistake already and he didn’t want to screw up this wonderful miraculous opportunity he’d been given.

“Okay then,” Lupin said. “How about a game of chess?”

Sirius snorted, and Harry’s dad didn’t look particularly excited by the prospect either.

“How about a game of Quidditch?” Sirius suggested instead, and here Harry perked up. On a broom was the one place he really managed to forget all his worries, and that was exactly what he needed right then.

“I knew it. The Quidditch gene really is strong in this family,” Sirius said, grinning.

Later that night, Harry overheard a conversation between his dad and Sirius and Lupin. He didn’t need any water; he purposefully went down to listen to what they were saying. Sure enough, he was the topic of conversation, as expected.

“I wasn’t even mean, I just told him to go upstairs! I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

“You have to consider that this boy grew up with Lily’s sister and her husband, not with you and Lily. They took him in, but as far as I understand, they never really treated him like they did their biological son.”

Harry almost had to laugh at the understatement of that. They’d barely treated him like a human at times, never mind a son.

“But he’s so sensitive,” he heard James say.

“Just… be careful with him, alright? It’s a difficult situation for him as well.”

“Pff, he’s getting to live with James Potter, the best dad ever,” Sirius said.

At that, Harry went back upstairs, hoping with all his heart that Sirius was right.

Harry started spending more time with the others again (although Lupin was at the house only sporadically, claiming that he had to spend most of his time at the library), and it was nice. They talked a lot and they played Quidditch and it felt similar to how it had been while still at Hogwarts.

That was, until the topic of Harry’s room came up.

About a week into living in their new home, Harry's dad knocked on his bedroom door.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Sure."

He stepped into the room, looking around. "Have you thought at all about how you would like to decorate your room?"

"Oh, uh..."

"Indecisive, huh? I get it. Just think about it and then we'll do our best to make it happen, okay? I want you to feel comfortable in your new bedroom. The stars are the limit."

He grinned at Harry, and Harry smiled back at him. His dad left again, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.

Harry had in fact thought about it. He had a million ideas of cool things he might have in his room, and his dad was right that deciding on just a few of them felt impossible.

But there was also the problem of not knowing how his dad would react. He knew that he had money, but how much of that money would he want to spend on something as trivial as Harry's room decor?

He didn't need anything special; Harry loved his room even with its bare walls. It was spacious, it had big windows with a perfect view of the garden and it was his in a way that his room at the Dursleys never had been. There was too much of Dudley's old stuff still in there. The cupboard had been his, but that was hardly comparable to his current room.

Harry felt a little lost with this task of choosing how to fill his room, and so he put it out of his mind. They had plans to visit France that day, just on a whim, and Harry was incredibly excited. He’d never left the country before after all!

He forgot about his room and just enjoyed himself with his new family.

The issue came up again only a few days later.

"So, Harry,” his dad said at breakfast. They’d only just been talking about their plans for the day, which involved getting some Polyjuice to have more freedom to move around in wizarding Britain that was more reliable than bodily transformations tended to be. Harry was learning a lot about how to disguise one’s looks, and he was filing all of that away for a future date. It was nice not to be recognised all the time.

Now, however, the topic was shifting.

“Have you decided what you want to do with your room yet?" his dad asked. He was smiling and Harry was sure it was supposed to be just another casual conversation, but he got nervous as soon as he realised where the conversation was going.

"Uhm. I don't really know."

"You must have interests or hobbies you want represented in your room," his dad said, now frowning.

Harry shrugged.

"What about Quidditch?" Sirius asked. "You're an amazing Seeker, I saw you play at Hogwarts. What team do you support?"

“Uh…” Harry didn’t want to admit to his dad and Sirius that he didn't really know any of the professional Quidditch teams. It was such an assumed thing from them that he followed professional Quidditch teams. He loved the sport; maybe he was doing something wrong if he never watched anyone other than students play?

"Uh... The Chudley Cannons?"

"But they're terrible," his dad blurted out. “Did they somehow get less terrible since…. you know?”

Harry pressed his lips together. He looked at Lupin, who was just watching the conversation play out, hoping to get some help from him.

"What do you like about them, Harry?" Lupin asked.

"I don't know," he said. Why did Ron even like them? Harry had no idea. He knew they were a lost cause.

"Okay," Lupin said. "Maybe you'll think of something you want. Anyone want some more sausage?"

Harry wasn’t hungry anymore.

They didn’t talk about it again but that same night, Harry crept down to the door leading to the kitchen after he'd already officially gone to bed. He was hoping to overhear a conversation between his dad and Sirius again to figure out just how mad his dad was at him for failing so spectacularly at doing something that was supposed to be as simple as choosing the decorations for his room. They didn't mention it, though, they only talked about plans for the next few days.

He sat on the stairs for at least half an hour, listening to the conversation and the sounds of glasses and whatever food they were eating. He sat, and he listened, and he thought. This was ridiculous. Harry didn't want to live like this, sneaking around in the dead of night to listen in on conversations. He wanted things to go back to how they were before he’d surprised his dad in the kitchen and before the topic of room decoration had come up. He went back up to his room and made a list of things to put in his room. It took him a long time, and a lot of items got put on the list, then crossed out again, some of them put back on and some even crossed out a second time.

In the end, Harry had his finished list, which he copied onto a second piece of parchment. He presented it to Lupin after breakfast the next morning.

"Do you think this is okay?" he asked.

Lupin read through the list, then looked back at Harry. "If that's what you want, of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?"

"It's not too much to ask for?"

"Harry, none of these things are even remotely expensive, nor are there a lot of them. I'm sure your father had at least three times as much stuff in his room as a boy. Are you really worried about this?"

“I don’t want them to think I’m spoiled, I guess.”

"Your dad just wants to get to know you. And he wants you to feel at home here, living together in this strange new situation. That's why he told you to pick your own decoration. I don't think there's anything you could have asked for that would make him angry in any way." His voice went very soft in the end.

"Oh." Harry thought about this. "So I could ask for a Super Nintendo as well?"

"Whatever that is, I'm sure he'll do his best to get it for you."

"It's a game console. For video games."

"I'm sure he would love to learn how it works from you," Lupin said, smiling.

When Harry's room was finished with everything he'd put on his list, he silently had to agree that it looked much better now. His walls weren't bare anymore but now had posters of his dad's favourite Quidditch team on them, and the game console in the corner quickly collected more and more games as his dad and Sirius discovered the joys of gaming.

Things were good again, just like they’d been at the beginning. Harry wasn’t much of a gamer – he’d never got the chance to practice other than the three or four times he’d managed to sneak into Dudley’s room to practise when all three of the Dursleys had left for a trip without Harry and Mrs Figg hadn’t been available to watch him. But he was learning.

Harry’s dad and godfather were gone. Just gone. He came down to the kitchen one morning and saw Lupin there (which was unusual – he came by every now and then, but never in the mornings) but neither his dad nor Sirius.

Morning,” Harry said.

“Let’s sit down,” Lupin suggested, and there was something off about his tone.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked.

“Your father and godfather had a long talk yesterday after you’d gone to bed. Now, this was a difficult decision for them to reach so –“

“What’s going on?”

“They left.”

“Left. To go where?”

“They’ve gone after Peter. They believe that not enough is being done to find him and since we are the ones who know him best, we are also the ones most likely to find him and make sure he can’t harm anyone else ever again.”

“So they know where he is?” Harry asked, confused. He’d not even thought about Peter Pettigrew, really, since the night his dad had returned.

“Uh, no, they don’t.”

“But then it could take forever! He could be anywhere! When are they coming back?”

“I don’t know,” Lupin admitted.

There were so many more questions swirling around Harry’s head, but he didn’t ask any of them because they would have revealed just how much this really affected him. He knew he would only get bullshit answers from Lupin anyway even if he did ask them. There was no way Lupin would ever tell him that it was Harry’s fault, even if it was true.

Harry spent the rest of the day in his room. Lupin knocked on his door a few times, either to talk or to ask him down for something to eat. Harry didn’t respond, and Lupin didn’t force him.

It was a long night with not very much sleep, but somehow, the next morning, Harry did feel better. The summer had really only just begun still, and his dad and Sirius would be back soon, he was sure.

“Harry?” Remus stuck his head through the door. “Would you like to come down and help me cook?”

Harry agreed. He knew that he didn’t really have a choice anyway because he could see in Lupin’s face that a second day without food was not an option. And besides, he was pretty hungry.

“Sure, I’ll be down in a sec.”

It turned out that while both Harry and Lupin knew how to use a stove and oven (the same, he had found out, could not be said for either his dad or godfather), neither of them ever cooked any particularly elaborate meals. Harry was used to cooking breakfast, but Aunt Petunia had always taken care of lunch and dinner. The pantry was well stocked, so Lupin decided to cook a full English breakfast for dinner.

“A full English?” Harry asked.

“Don’t you like it?”

“I do! But I just thought… it’s dinnertime.”

“I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

It was a small thing, but the thought of breaking a sort of rule put a smile on Harry’s face. Especially because he was doing it with a teacher. Not that he would have been allowed to say that out loud.

“I didn’t know you were such a rule-breaker, Professor,” Harry joked.

“I’m not your teacher anymore, Harry, there’s no need to call me Professor anymore,” Lupin reminded Harry. 

“What else am I meant to call you?”

“I do have a first name, you know,” Lupin said with a chuckle. Harry just made a face at that. He couldn’t just call a man who’d been his teacher for a whole school year by his first name!

Lupin laughed. “I get it, I’m 34 and even I felt uncomfortable calling the other teachers by their first names. Especially Professor McGonagall.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I almost never used her name at all if I could avoid it, and I think she may have noticed.”

Harry snorted at this. Lupin was clearly putting on a bit of a performance to make Harry feel better, but even knowing that, it worked.

“Alright,” Lupin said. “What do you call your godfather, then?”

“Sirius.”

“No Uncle Sirius or Uncle Padfoot or anything like that?”

“… No.” Harry thought that one uncle was quite enough, he didn’t need another.

“I’m just asking because when you were born and even before, there were a lot of discussion about what you were going to call us. I thought he might have offered one of those for you to use.”

“Well, he didn’t.” Of course, he hadn’t.

Lupin looked worried now. “It’s not bad that he hasn’t,” he hastened to assure Harry. “Forget I said anything. I just thought that if you were already calling him Uncle Padfoot, then maybe I could just match that.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but he never said anything, so I’ve been calling him Sirius.”

“There’s no need to apologise. Would you like that, though? To call me Uncle Remus or Uncle Moony? I just think it would make it easier to remember that we’re not at school anymore.”

He looked so hopeful, and Harry hated it. He liked Lupin, he really did. He was – had been – without a doubt his favourite teacher, and that was precisely why he couldn’t call him uncle. It would be unfair to Lupin to associate him with Uncle Vernon in any way. Harry didn’t want to have to think about Uncle Vernon in his new home.

The hopeful look on Lupin’s face vanished. “Right. Let’s table this for another day then, shall we?” he said and returned to the cooking. He inspected the bacon. “One more minute, I reckon. What do you think?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

The food was delicious, even if the atmosphere during dinner was dampened. Lupin tried to appear up-beat and ask Harry about his life, but Harry could tell it wasn’t real and besides, he didn’t want to talk about himself.

To get the conversation away from his childhood, Harry asked Lupin about his own life. He wasn’t very successful.

“What did you do before you came to teach at Hogwarts?”

“Uh – all sort of things, really. But I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that. What were your favourite subjects in primary school?”

“Maths. And English. I liked most of them, really.”

“Did you get good grades?”

“Uh…” Harry hadn’t had very good grades, not because he was actually bad at school but because he’d had to make sure to stay below Dudley’s grades. Anything to save his poor cousin from the reality of how stupid he was. “Sort of. Can I ask you something a bit more private?”

Lupin looked apprehensive but nodded.

“Why didn’t you go after Pettigrew with my dad and Sirius?”

Lupin thought for a moment. “Would you rather I’d gone with them?”

“No, of course not. I’m just curious. In the Shrieking Shack, you seemed…”

He didn’t particularly want to finish that sentence, but unfortunately, Lupin waited patiently for Harry to find a word that wasn’t “murderous”.

“… angry. Which is understandable, of course! I know what he did. But I just don’t understand why they went, and you didn’t.”

Lupin sighed. “It’s a fair question. But you have to understand that I, as I am sure you do too, have difficult emotions when it comes to Peter’s betrayal and everything that followed. I will never know what it feels like for you to have your parents killed at such a young age and then find out it was your friend’s pet that played such a big part in their deaths.”

Oh, right. That. To be honest, Harry hadn’t spent a lot of thought on Scabbers being Pettigrew. Too much had happened since then. He was sure that it must be something Ron thought about a lot though. Maybe he should ask him how he was doing with that in his next letter…

Lupin continued. “But likewise, you will hopefully never understand what it was like for me. My friends were my everything when I was young. When we joined the war effort after graduation, that only got stronger because most of my friends joined along with me. We had to completely rely on each other, we had to literally trust each other with our lives. And so, when I lost all of that in just one night…”

“That must have been brutal,” Harry said. He couldn’t imagine losing either Ron or Hermione, and especially not because of the betrayal of the other one.  

“It was. I didn’t handle it well, to be completely honest. I will spare you the details, but it took me a long time to pull myself together again. But I managed, eventually. I accepted what happened, even if it now turns out it wasn’t the truth after all.”

During all this, he’d been staring at his glass of water. Lost in his memories, Harry supposed. Now he turned towards Harry and looked him straight in the eyes.

“James and Sirius did not get that benefit. For Sirius, time pretty much stopped when he went to Azkaban, and for James, it literally did. Maybe this makes me sound uncaring, but for them, it’s much fresher than it is for me.”

That all made sense, and hearing it made Harry feel like maybe it hadn’t been such a personal rejection of Harry himself after all.

Lupin frowned again. “You didn’t – Harry, you didn’t think their leaving had anything to do with you, did you?”

This time he didn’t even give Harry time to answer, as if he already knew that he’d hit the nail on the head.

“Oh, Harry. I promise, they didn’t leave because of you. They do want to get to know you and spend all their time with you.”

“Well, that’s a bit difficult while they’re gone, isn’t it?”

“They’re just trying to make the world safer for you. Peter is a Death Eater, as long as he’s out there –”

“But he’s not the only Death Eater that’s still out there, is he?”

“No. No, he isn’t. But he’s the one with the closest connection to you.”

“Other than Voldemort.”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Hm. Does all of this mean that you’re older than my dad now?” Harry asked.

Lupin gave a little laugh at that. “I’ve always been older than your dad, by a whole 17 days, you know,” he said.

“That’s not what I mean,” Harry said, but he was already thinking again. He had figured out his parents’ birthdays from one of the history books that Hermione had shown him about himself back in first year, but he’d never done anything with that knowledge. Would he need to get his dad a birthday present? What about Sirius?

“I don’t know. Maybe. I certainly feel older than both of them right now, but then again, I’ve always felt like that.”

“It feels like you’re older,” Harry said, and Lupin laughed.

“I didn’t mean – I just meant, you’re more mature. They talk about pranks a lot and you –“

“And I turned into a boring old teacher?” Lupin looked greatly amused by the new topic of conversation.

“You’re not boring, your lessons were the best and most interesting I’ve ever had. But Sirius and… and Dad just seem…”

“Like I said, it’s like time stopped for both of them.”

Harry nodded. “My parents were really young when they had me, didn’t they?” Logically, he’d always known this, but it took meeting his dad and seeing him interact with Sirius especially to really drive it home for Harry.

This made Lupin laugh again. “They certainly were. We all thought they were crazy to have a child at such a young age, and during a war as well. But they made it work. They loved you so much and did everything to make your childhood the happiest they could.”

His laugh faded away. So much for that happiest possible childhood. Harry didn’t know what exactly Lupin knew about the Dursleys, other than what he himself had mentioned, but it must be enough to know that they had not continued his parents’ work in that regard. But through some miracle, his dad had received another chance. If only he took it…

“Do you think they’ll come back soon? Even if they don’t manage to catch Pettigrew?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know,” Lupin said. “I hope they do.”

“Have you missed them?”

Lupin didn’t answer for a while, and Harry thought he might not answer at all. Not because he didn’t want to be honest with Harry – Lupin had been more honest with him this evening than perhaps any other adult ever had – but because it was too complicate to figure out the truth.

“I certainly missed James,” Lupin finally said. “Every day. Both him and Lily, although I wasn’t quite as close to your mum. Sirius… I think I missed him too, although I didn’t want to admit it to myself because of what he’d done. What I thought he’d done. But I missed the Sirius from before all that happened.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Is it okay if I go to bed now?” Harry wasn’t really tired, he just had enough serious, honest conversations for one night.

“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, Harry.”

“Good night.”

That night, Harry dreamt about Ron and Hermione chasing him with knives in their hands and Harry running for his life. He woke up once, in the middle of the night, and tried to slow his heart rate. He couldn’t imagine either of them ever betraying him. They were too good friends, had gone through too much together to ever do that to each other. Harry could trust them with their lives. He tried not to think too much about the same having once been true for his father.

While both Harry’s dad and Sirius had usually been awake before Harry, Lupin slept in until about 11 a.m. Until then, Harry hadn’t been sure adults were even capable of sleeping that long. Didn’t older people just wake up earlier naturally? Maybe Lupin was an exception.

Harry didn’t say anything to Lupin about him sleeping in, of course. But he did ask him whether he still wanted breakfast, which pretty much had the same effect.

“No thank you, Harry. Gosh, it’s almost time to start cooking lunch already, isn’t it?”

Harry shrugged, which Lupin, judging from his smile, correctly took to mean, “Well yeah, obviously. That’s what happens when you sleep all day.”

“I would argue that I’m still catching up on sleep after this school year, but truth is that this is pretty much normal for me. I’m afraid you’re going to have to entertain yourself in the mornings.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Harry said. “Out of curiosity though, how did you even manage to wake up in time for classes every day?”

“Lots and lots of strong tea.”

“Right, makes sense. Well, now that you’re awake,” Lupin laughed, not at all minding Harry’s cheek, “what are we going to do today?”

“Uh,” Lupin said, “I’m not sure. I would probably just have done research all day, but that would be boring for you. Maybe…”

“What are you researching? My dad? At the Hogwarts library?”

“I’m looking into how exactly your father possibly could have come back here, yes. And no, not at Hogwarts. It doesn’t have the only library in the country, you know. That would be a problem for anyone not employed there. No, there’s a public library for anything related to magic in London.”

“Have you found anything?”

“Not yet. Neither a reason for how it happened nor any precedent.” At Harry’s confused look, he added. “That’s any other case where the same thing has happened before.”

“Let’s do that then.”

Lupin gave Harry a look. “Really? You want to spend the day at the library, reading about magical theory?”

Harry shrugged. “I want to find out what happened too. Besides, I don’t mind reading books. As long as it isn’t Potions.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want. But first I need some food.”

Harry thought that Lupin was still doubtful about why Harry wanted to come to the library, but he wasn’t lying. He did want to find out the truth about his dad, and he did like books. He just didn’t enjoy having to do homework. 

Lunch that day was spag bol. Harry thought that actually, life with Lupin as his babysitter was pretty good. He still wanted his dad to come back soon, but he couldn’t help but feel that living with just Lupin was easier. He knew what to expect and he felt like Lupin didn’t mind Harry’s company either. It was nice.

The library turned out to be a section of the London Library, much like platform 9 ¾ was a part of King’s Cross. Lupin Apparated them both to a room in the cellar that was kept free of Muggles for that very purpose, and the Apparition alone was a strange enough experience that Harry couldn’t possibly complain about being bored. It felt like being squeezed out through a straw and Harry didn’t like it at all. In the cellar, Harry took a few deep breaths and only let go of Lupin’s arm when he felt steady on his feet again.

Much as Lupin tried to be the picture of empathy, Harry knew that he was also amused by Harry’s plight. “Everyone’s first time Apparating is hard. You certainly wouldn’t be the first one to, uh, lose your lunch.”

Harry really wished he hadn’t just planted that mental image in his head.

“I’m okay,” he said, and he almost meant it.

Once Harry gave his okay for them to continue, they went up several flights of stairs. The walls were covered in pictures of writers, scientists, explorers of all sorts. At the top of the staircase, they entered a room that, despite having large windows, was dark and a bit creepy. The red velvet everywhere gave Harry the feeling that he’d be yelled at if he touched anything. Like even if no one was around to watch, they’d still know he’d done it.

Lupin confidently walked towards a picture on the wall that looked familiar. Harry read the description and was surprised to see that it was Artemisia Lufkin, the first female Minister of Magic. It was a still portrait, a Muggle one, but it was unmistakably her, and even the description said so. It didn’t call her the Minister of Magic, of course, but still described her as an important political figure of the 19^th century.

“What’s she doing here?” Harry asked.

“She helped fund the library,” Lupin explained. “She was a big believer in equality. Unfortunately, this is still true for today, but back in her time, the differences between the few men who held all the power and knowledge and everyone else were even stronger than they are today. She was an incredibly smart and ambitious woman and did a lot to change that.”

“Wasn’t she a Hufflepuff?” Harry asked.

“So?” Lupin gave Harry that slightly mischievous grin that he had, as if goading Harry to say something stupid now.

“Nothing. She sounds great. And you seem to know a lot about her.”

Lupin gave the portrait one last look, then lifted his wand and tapped the frame in some sort of pattern. “She was certainly a woman worth looking up to,” he said.

The wall behind the portrait started flickering and Lupin took a step through it. “Coming?” he asked Harry.

“Magical passageways everywhere, this is so cool,” Harry said.

Lupin chuckled at his enthusiasm, then said, “Come on, let’s go have fun. It’s time to read.”

They stepped through, and Harry found himself in a room as long as the eye could see, with high shelves on both sides. There were books in all shapes, sizes, colours.

“How are we supposed to find anything in here? This place is huge!”

“Magic,” Lupin said with his custom smile. He raised his wand and said, “Immortality.”

The bookshelves, big, robust bookshelves, lifted a few centimetres into the air and rearranged, with books lifting up from their place and flying to new spaces that opened up across the shelves, all across the room. It took a few seconds, then they stood again. There were dust particles flying through the air, highlighted by a light source that Harry couldn’t find the location of.

Harry looked at the book closest to him. It was a big book, about the size of Hogwarts: A History, held in a light blue with white lettering saying, “An Extensive Yet Incomplete Biography of Nicholas Flamel.”

“Wow,” Harry said. “So these are all the books about immortality?”

“And related topics, theoretically, although the room sometimes makes… interesting choices on what it constitutes as related.”

“Brilliant.”

“I think so too,” Lupin said. “Shall we start? I’ve looked into the theory behind the killing curse but didn’t find anything that could explain this. I went through dozens of books about the topic of death. I don’t think it really is a kind of immortality since James was dead for a time, it’s just that I’m a bit stumped at the moment about what topic to even start today’s research with.”

Harry thought about it. What would he do? Ask Hermione, probably. This whole situation with the research and the Nicholas Flamel book reminded him a lot of their hours spent at the library in first year.

He got a book form the shelf, something that seemed to be an overview of different types of immortality. It was right at the edge of the shelf, at eye-level. It seemed like a good place to start. Lupin also picked one of the many, many books suggested by the library and they sat down at a table, where parchment as well as a quill and ink lay ready for them to use, and got to work.

There wasn’t any way to tell how much time passed because there was no natural light anywhere in the room, but Harry still felt it must have been hours. He went through several books, and while he found out a lot of interesting information about immortality (Flamel wasn’t the only immortal or near-immortal wizard, it turned out), there wasn’t anything that could explain his father’s reappearance.

Harry put aside the book he’d just combed through from start to finish, unsuccessfully. He yawned.

“I’ll just finish up here, then we can go home,” Lupin said.

“Sure,” Harry said, but he could see that Lupin was only about half-way through his book. “Take your time.”

He got up and did what he’d wanted to do for hours, in the back of his mind: explore the library.

“Profess – uh…”

“Yes?”

“If I do the bookshelf changing thing, does that count as underage magic?”

Harry had his wand in his trousers. Before they’d left, Lupin had told him never to leave his home without a wand, even if he officially wasn’t allowed to use it. Just in case.

“No, it’s not an actual spell. Feel free.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Harry went a few metres along the aisle. Lupin didn’t need to know everything about Harry. He didn’t think that he was going to do anything shameful (it was a public library, he knew to behave himself), but still.

He raised his wand like Lupin had done and said the first word that came to his mind. “Dragons.”

The bookshelves lifted and moved as before, and soon he was surrounded by a wide variety of books about dragons. Some of them looked like school textbooks, some were long books about very niche topics like the temperature of the flame of a specific dragon during a specific time of its life. Some, to Harry’s delight, were graphic novels featuring dragons.

He was tempted to just take one and read it until Lupin was done, but no. He could do that some other time, hopefully.

“Quidditch.” Again, the shelves moved and again, Harry was impressed by the number of books on the topic were now available to him. It made sense, of course, seeing as Quidditch was the only sport wizards seemed to care about, but still. There was a ton of material on how to become a better Quidditch player right here and he couldn’t wait to get into it. But another time. For now, he still wanted to explore the limits of this library.

He had an idea for something else to request, and it felt weird to do it, but he just had to know what would happen.

“Harry Potter,” he said, waiting apprehensively. Harry didn’t know what he expected but it surely wasn’t this. There might actually be more books on me than on Quidditch, he thought, and it was only a slight exaggeration. There were whole biographies on him. Not just a few mentions like Hermione had found back in first year, but whole books all about Harry.

It was weird. He hurried to find a new topic to replace this one with. And the first thing that popped into his head was…

“Werewolves.”

He’d spent a lot of time with Lupin and had recently seen exactly what he looked like on a full moon, so surely, this was a natural interest for Harry to have, wasn’t it? It still felt dirty, in a way, as if he was going through Lupin’s desk or something. Still, Harry pulled out one of the books at random, but upon seeing that it was called “Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don’t Deserve to Live”, he hurried to put it back again.

“If you’re going to read about werewolves,” a voice behind Harry quietly said, and Harry’s heart sank, “I’d really rather it wasn’t that particular one.”

“I didn’t – I wasn’t going to –“

“It’s okay,” Lupin said, when clearly it wasn’t. “I can’t blame you. After what happened a few weeks ago…”

“No! I just chose a random book, I didn’t even read the title! I swear! I would never read something like that, I’d never think –“

Lupin just smiled at Harry, but it was a sad smile. A tired smile.

“Have you read it?” Harry asked, equally as quiet as Lupin was speaking. It seemed appropriate, even if Harry hadn’t seen anyone else in all the time they’d spent here at the library.

“I have. I found it to be well-argued, although the content is of course completely fabricated.”

Harry looked at the book again. What an awful title. What a horrible thing for someone to write and then publish. He looked at the other books and found that many of them had similar titles. Harry had thought that maybe Snape just really hated Lupin and therefore hated werewolves and that bias had affected his lesson. But no, it seemed that for once, Snape represented the average opinion on a topic. People just really hated werewolves, and Harry didn’t understand why.

“But you’re so nice!” he blurted out.

“I’m afraid it’s somewhat of a complicated topic. Shall we go home? I can answer your questions, if you have any. You can read the books, of course, if you want to. Although, again, I suggest you try something else instead. I can make recommendations, if you want. But if you want to choose your own books, just be prepared to learn a lot of untrue information in a lot of them.”

“Yes – I mean, no. Let’s go home.” 

Both Lupin and Harry were quite tired, but Lupin seemed determined to talk to Harry about his being a werewolf. Initially, Harry didn’t think he actually had any questions. He’d learned the basics in Snape’s lesson, even if it had been focused on how to kill werewolves rather than what to call them when they make the transition from teacher to… guardian? of sorts? He still didn’t know how to refer to Lupin and who he was to Harry. 

While they walked back to the cellar, he did some quick thinking, though. He almost lost the train of thought again when they Apparated because the second time might actually have been worse than the first time, but he remembered again once his feet were able to bear his weight again. According to Harry’s mental calculations, it had been about a month since his dad had come back into his life. Which meant it had been about a month since the last full moon.

Lupin made them both some tea and sat down at the sofa. Harry was suddenly nervous. What was he supposed to say? What wasn’t he supposed to say? He sipped at his tea rather than saying anything.

“Okay, ground rules. If you don’t want to talk about this topic, obviously I am not forcing you into anything. You can leave at any time if you want to or suggest another topic. But I think that you’re curious, which is perfectly understandable. If indeed there are any questions you have or anything you want to talk about, I’ll do my best to tell you what I know.”

Lupin looked like he didn’t actually want to do this. Like he was scared of what Harry might say.

“Why did you read all those books?”

“Because I wanted to learn about lycanthropy. Just because I am a werewolf doesn’t mean I automatically knew all about it. I wanted to know about its history, about the science behind it.”

“But you said there’s a lot of wrong information in it.”

“Yes, and that’s where it morphed more into wanting to find out what others thought about – us.”

“Doesn’t seem very healthy to me,” Harry said, thinking back to the titles he’d seen on that bookshelf.

Lupin snorted. “It wasn’t. But I also don’t think that my reading habits and self-flagellating tendencies are what you’re actually interested in. I promise I won’t be cross if you ask personal or invasive questions. Because you haven’t left yet, so you must want to ask something.”

“I don’t know what to ask. We learned about werewolves at school, and uh – I read Hermione’s homework essay because she asked me to proof-read it.” He only realised now that Hermione must have hoped he would figure it out just from that. She never asked him to proof-read anything else she wrote. Sorry to disappoint, Hermione.

“Okay, what about this. I ask you something and then you ask me something. Maybe that will make you more comfortable.”

Harry did not like that idea. But if he said no now, that would be suspicious, and Lupin would certainly try to find out what Harry was hiding.

“Alright. You start.” Best to get it over with.

“If you could choose only one, what’s the one experience you would want to have with your dad?”

That wasn’t at all what Harry had been expecting, but it was a very good question.

“I don’t know. It was never an option, so I never thought about it. And now… I guess I don’t want to think about it too much because I don’t know whether he’ll stay here. I don’t want to say something like having dad teach me how to shave and then he’s gone in a month, and I’ll never have that. You know?” 

“That makes sense. But do try to think about some less time-specific things. I also don’t know whether he’ll be able to stay, and I don’t want you to regret missing out on this chance.”

“Okay. Yeah, I will.”

“Now it’s your turn.”

“What will you do at the next full moon?” There it was, probably the most important question.

“I’ll spend it in a forest in Wales. I’ve used it for years, it’s well warded and there’s plenty of space to run around.”

He said it neutrally, but in his head, all Harry could hear were the screams of pain Lupin transforming. Having to go through that every month… It was impossible to imagine.

“So you won’t be at the house?”

Lupin looked horrified at that suggestion. “No! Of course not!”

“Why not? You said you stayed in your office during the school year.”

“Yeah, but that was when I had access to the Wolfsbane potion. I wasn’t dangerous then.”

As long as he took the potion, Harry thought, and he was sure Lupin was thinking it too in that moment. Harry didn’t blame Lupin for forgetting to take the potion because a lot had been going on, but he did get why Lupin felt guilty about. It was a big mistake that could have ended very badly.

“Oh. Because Snape only made it for you while Dumbledore forced him to?”

“Basically, yes.”

“But can’t somebody else make it?”

“It’s very difficult to make and the ingredients are expensive. I can’t afford to buy it every month.”

“Okay. When will you get back?”

“Around noon, usually. But don’t worry about that, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’ll take me a while to recover, even once I’m back at the house. I’m usually very tired for a while after.”

“I’m old enough to stay home alone. I’ve done it plenty of times at the Dursleys’. And you’ve seen that I can cook.”

“Maybe so, but I still want someone watching over you and making sure you’re getting good food.”

Harry felt cold all of a sudden. Please, no…

“So where are you sending me? The Dursleys?”

“No, I was thinking more of having you spend a day or two at Molly and Arthur’s house, if James and Sirius aren’t back by the end of the week.” He paused for a moment. “You were pretty adamant about wanting to stay with your dad right after he came back, and I thought it was just about spending time with him but now… You really do not want to go back to your relatives, do you?”

“No. They’re awful and I hate it there.”

“What are your relatives like, Harry?”

Harry didn’t know how much to actually say. With Dumbledore, it was easy to be honest because it was his best chance of actually getting out of there. The problem was just that no matter what he said, Dumbledore always insisted that it was in Harry’s best interest to stay at Privet Drive, no matter how badly he hated it there.

With Lupin, it was different. He may have been impatient with Dumbledore on the morning after the full moon, but Harry still had the feeling that Lupin had a lot of respect for and not a lot of power over Dumbledore. And if there was no way to make it work in his favour, Harry really didn’t have any reason to be honest about just how much the Dursleys hated Harry. All it would do was to make Lupin feel pity for Harry, which he didn’t want, of course.

“They never got a choice in having to take me in, and they don’t really like me. They spoil Dudley with a lot of food and presents, and he never has to do any chores. This is much better.”

“Do they – Have they ever… physically hurt you? In any way?”

Harry mentally saw Uncle Vernon’s hand fly towards him for talking back to him and heard Aunt Petunia’s frying pan hit his shoulder, hot oil splashing onto his shirt, because she’d had to throw away the eggs he burned. “No,” Harry said. “Nothing like that.”

“Okay.” Lupin still looked doubtful. “If there is ever anything that you want to talk about, I hope you know that you can tell me anything. If anyone ever hurts you, I want to know. Okay? And I will do my best to help.”

Harry appreciated it, he really did. But no one had ever helped before when he’d tried to get them to. Besides, it didn’t matter anymore. He was living with his dad now. At least in theory.

“Is it my turn again?” Harry asked.

“I think so, yes.”

“When we were in the Shrieking Shack, you said the others became AnimagI in order to help you during the full moons.”

“Yes…?”

Harry grinned at him, and before he could even say anything, Lupin was already talking again. “No, no way. Don’t you dare even try to become an Animagus, it’s much too dangerous. Do you have any idea how lucky the others were to succeed without having anyone to help them? They could have got stuck in their animal forms, could have got stuck as some sort of in-between mix of human and animal… No.”

“Oh come on! It’s so cool! And you said yourself that it helped you.”

“I was a stupid teenager with no real understanding or care for just how risky our actions were. It’s a miracle no one ever got seriously hurt.”

“Well, I’m a stupid teenager now so…”

“Not on my watch. I will make sure you’re reaching adulthood safely and happily, even if it kills me. And there is no way I am ever letting you near me again during a full moon, not as a human and not as an animal, so you can forget that idea.”

“You’re no fun,” Harry fake-whined.

“I know. I’m old and boring and you’ll just have to deal with that.”

Harry sighed, but on the inside, he loved every second of it.

They went back to the library the next day, and the day after. Harry didn’t know whether it was because they’d just talked about it or whether he would have noticed anyway, but he could see Lupin’s behaviour changing.

He became agitated, less able to sit still for long periods of time. He also looked more tired, even though he still slept until almost noon every day.

On the fourth day, they stayed home. Lupin made himself a cup of tea and lay down on the sofa with a blanket. He was asleep soon after, tea untouched. Harry got out his Astronomy book and it confirmed what he’d already guessed: It was a full moon that night.

Harry quietly entertained himself for most of that day. He made a simple lunch, part of which he put on the table next to the now cold cup of tea. He considered waking Lupin up so he could eat but decided the man could decide for himself what the best way to spend the hours before a full moon was.

He wrote a reply to Hermione’s letter but didn’t bother with Ron’s because he expected to see him soon anyway. He read through some of the books in the living room. Two of them were about lycanthropy, and Harry wondered whether they’d always been there or whether Lupin had put them there recently as a recommendation for Harry.

Harry still felt bad about picking that particular book off the shelf at the library. These ones seemed to be more sympathetic towards werewolves. One, he discovered, was a biography written by a werewolf. The other was more along the lines of a typical textbook about how werewolf bodies were different to other bodies.

They were both good books, objectively, but Harry found it hard to concentrate. Lupin slept fitfully and increasingly made noises that made Harry think that he was in pain, even in his sleep.

Lupin woke up at about five p.m. and stretched out before sitting up. Harry was sure that he heard every single one of his bones crack, and Lupin didn’t say anything, but Harry knew that he must be very uncomfortable.

He warmed the tea with a quick spell and sipped it while eating the sandwich Harry had prepared for him. “Thank you, Harry,” he said. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Harry asked.

“Never better,” Lupin replied with a laugh. “Come on, we’re already late, I told Molly I’d deliver you by four.”

Harry spent about 24 hours at the Burrow, and whereas usually he would have wanted to stay as long as he could, this time he was glad when Lupin showed up again to take him back home. It wasn’t that the Burrow wasn’t fun, because off course it was. They placed Quidditch and chess, and talking to Ron in person was completely different from having to talk to him through letters.

But Harry also realised that it felt different now that he had an actual home to go back to. It wasn’t some great escape from the Dursleys, it was just a place for him to stay while everyone else was away.

He was also worried about how Lupin was doing, now that he knew what was going on. He’d taken the biography with him and one of the chapters featured a description of what the full moon felt like in excruciating detail as well as the before and after.

How the hell had Lupin managed to be a teacher when that was what he went through every month? How did he even manage to do anything?

Lupin walked slowly, and Harry could see some new scratches on his body. They stood out with their angry red against all the old, white scars that already criss-crossed his skin.

“Hello Harry,” Lupin said. “Are you ready to go back home?”

“Sure, let me just go get my backpack.”

Harry ran up to Ron’s bedroom to get his stuff, then went out into the garden to say goodbye to the others. When he came back, Mrs Weasley was standing in front of Lupin. “Harry could be staying with us, you know. He’s very happy here.”

Harry slowed down to give Lupin a chance to reply. 

“His father –“

“Isn’t there right now, from what I heard. I think it would be better for Harry –“

“Professor? Can we go home now?” Harry interrupted. He knew that it was rude of him to interrupt Mrs Weasley, and in a different situation he would never do that. But Lupin looked tired and unsure and if there was even the slightest chance that he was going to listen to Mrs Weasley’s advice, Harry had to prevent that.

“Yes,” Lupin said. “Let’s go. Thank you very much for your help, Molly.”

They walked to the edge of the property, slowly, where Lupin offered Harry his arm. “You know what to do by now,” he said.

They Apparated home, and even though the experience of Apparition still sucked, Harry was glad to be back.

“I’m going to –“ Lupin said, gesturing to the upper floor. Harry nodded. He could see that Lupin was pretty much dead on his feet. He even used the handrail while walking up the stairs, which Harry had never seen him do before.

They went back to the library the next day, at Lupin’s insistence. Harry thought it might still be too soon after the full moon, but Lupin assured him he was perfectly alright. They got to work again, together, this time on the topic of apparitions. Not the mode of transportation but rather not-quite-real appearances of a someone or something. It seemed like a broad topic to wish for at the library, and indeed there were books covering basically any topic under the sun that were still somehow held together by this one unifying thread.

It was fun, in a way. It was interesting, at the very least.

Harry was deeply invested in the book in front of him, but not deeply enough not to notice when beside him, Lupin stiffened and took in a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked.

“Yes, yes, I –“

“Did you find something?”

“Maybe.” He tapped the book with his wand. “Let’s go home.”

“What have you found?”

“I’ll tell you once I know more. I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore first. Sorry, but I need to be sure about this.”

Harry, who’d got used to Lupin being honest with him, was put off by this.

“Fine, but please be quick about it. I want to know what’s going on with my dad.”

“I’ll try.”

He wasn’t quick.

Harry was sent to his room while Lupin was kneeling in front of the fireplace with his head stuck in the fire. Fortunately, Harry knew that the green fire was a sign of Floo Powder being used, otherwise he would have had a heart attack when he crept downstairs to listen in on the conversation. Unfortunately, this particular use of Floo Powder meant that while Lupin was (mostly) still in the room with Harry, the conversation was happening somewhere else, and Harry couldn’t hear any of it.

The conversation lasted at least an hour. Lupin’s knees must surely be hurting, Harry thought. He also thought a lot of other things in that hour, including that his dad might be a miracle and had become immortal, followed quickly by the horrible idea of his dad dying within the day. Awful as it was, Harry focused on the thought because he thought that developing false hope and then being disappointed might be even worse.

He thought that if he was orphaned again, he might not be able to take it, and wondered whether he would then have to go back to the Dursleys or be adopted by either Sirius or Lupin.

Harry also thought that being young was awful and he wanted to be a well-educated adult simply so people would come to him with their theories rather than making him wait for the result.

He also thought a lot about what experience he still wanted to have with his dad, if he had the chance, but he didn’t have an answer and wasn’t sure whether he even wanted to think of one. Just in case he never -

It took forever, but finally, Lupin did emerge from the fire, and from the look in his face, Harry could tell that he had been right to keep his thoughts pessimistic.

“No,” Harry said. No no no no no no!

“I’m sorry.”