Tuesday 10th January 1989.
"So, let me get this straight. Harry can cast different types of elf magic?" Remus questioned, glancing over his shoulder at the portrait, a few more Potters disappearing out the side of the frame leaving Dorea alone.
"It was an accident. Well, Harry's case was an accident. Hermione's was… more deliberate, but we were too late to stop them." Dorea supplied, looking out the window from the newest frame in the house.
The entire family were beyond grateful to Remus for this unexpected gift.
Any visitor would be beyond baffled at a room only a metre across that consisted of two doors at either end combined with a giant single-pane glass window opposite a giant wall filled with an empty painting of a ballroom looking out over the gardens of the home. But then, there weren't many unexpected visitors to the Manor these days to notice.
After hearing about how Harry had taken a small handheld portrait occupied solely by Charlus as the elder Potter walked him through the process he'd theorised could expand the wards by using small pieces of the ward stones elsewhere, he'd considered that they must be going mad every time Harry stepped outside the building.
So Remus and the elves had crafted this room the day after his return and he'd had a painter whip up a giant empty frame that the family could use to watch as the children played and practised in the garden outside.
"And that is how they get about?" Remus turned away from the view and looked at the woman alone in the painting. It was odd seeing so much empty space surrounding her, but this image wasn't for him, it was his gift to the Potters for saving him from himself. And a way to burn some of the enormous salary that James had fooled him into accepting, back on the family responsible. "I'm sorry, Dorea. I owe your family so much, but I don't see what you think I can do to stop them."
"You don't have to stop them, dear." She replied. "I don't think there is any hope of controlling them, and if you tried, you'd just turn them against your advice. What we hope is that a physically present adult might be able to get them to control themselves. They're already working so hard to get their magic in check so they can return to school."
Remus laughed gently as he turned back to watch the two children sitting cross-legged in the garden, faces screwed up in concentration. A position they'd been in for four straight hours now. "School. I always suspected Lily would win out on that. I'm surprised that you lot let him out of your sight long enough to manage it."
"The arguments on that matter were long and heated. I think it was the only time some of us spent the nights in our original frames, our equivalent of sleeping in different rooms, you might say. It very nearly cost us everything with the accident. And yet... Harry would never have met that amazing little girl if Lily hadn't convinced us all. And seeing those two sitting there together makes it worth all the heartache and worry. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Friends are important. Look what I did with my life when I thought all mine were gone. Wasted so much time." Remus mused, his mind drifting.
"Then make up for it, lad. Guide them. A little discipline might be necessary from time to time. You've quite the imagination if I recall, so I'm sure you'll find some way to make the lessons sink in. We hold the collective knowledge of centuries if not millennia of the Potter family. We can teach him. What he needs most is love. That you can provide in ways we'll never achieve."
Remus felt moisture gather in his eyes as he considered how hard Harry's childhood must have been. His own was no picnic after Greyback's visit, but at least for a time, he'd had his parents. He'd had his friends.
"I think he already has a bit of that in his life. Richard has taken him under his wing, and Natalie just adores him."
"Yes. Ever since the disaster that was their first visit, she's barely let the lad out of her sight. A mother has an innate sense of such things. She's always doted on him whenever he visits. I'm not sure he'd be as safe and sane as he is today without the Grangers in his life." Dorea watched the children as they suddenly burst up from their calm positions and began to chase one another about the flowerbeds and smiled brightly. "You're going to need help."
"I will at that." Remus took a steadying breath before turning back to face Dorea, his face much more serious now. "Tell me again. Everything we know. Harry comes first, always. But I can go to places you couldn't before. Sirius has suffered long enough. Help me help him, Dorea. For Harry."
ϟ
Monday 13th February 1989.
Albus pondered silently as he ran his fingers over the indentations in the wood, at a loss for how to continue.
He'd spent hours going over all the paperwork, but those little rodents had done their work admirably he had to admit. Every T crossed, every I dotted. The boy's signature was signed in magical blood, impossible to forge or fake. Blood that could have aided his search greatly, but was magically embedded in the paper in a way not even he could circumvent.
Harry Potter was officially recognized by magic itself as his own master. Not that he really cared about controlling the boy in the slightest. It would be nice to ensure his own mistakes couldn't further harm the child, but he was a means to an end. A path to something he'd longed for most of his long life.
He looked down at the engraved surface of his wand and considered it closely.
Forty-some years he'd wielded it now, mastering its intricacies in ways he was sure none before him had ever had the opportunity to try. It changed hands too fast for them to go as deep in their research of it as he had. But his eyes flicked from its pockmarked ancient surface to the cloth draped over the chair opposite him.
While he had mastered the wand to his will, the fabric had resisted everything he had ever tried. It simply wouldn't work for him the way that he had seen it used by James. He'd even occasionally fallen to his emotions and tried to destroy the contrary artefact and was amazed to find it impervious to any form of damage. This had spurred new lines of research that had proven just as fruitless as the rest.
While the wand was fickle and changed hands at the slightest provocation, the cloak was apparently utterly loyal to the blood. So long as a true heir lived it seemed, it would not surrender to the will of an outside force. And that force could not utilise its full nature.
With his countless years of study, Albus was beyond believing the children's story. He was certain that the artefacts before him were made by human hands. While many proclaimed him the greatest wizard since Merlin himself, even the continued existence of his former mentor laughed in the face of such a claim.
The Flamels and the Peverells before them had wrought true wonders of magic, and the Peverells had found a way to bind that magic to their bloodline in ways that would make a Malfoy sing with delight. Some form of proof for their belief that their blood made them better than others. As untrue as that idea normally was.
Anger surged once more and Albus grasped the powerful wand in his hand. The blasting curse was so strong as it slammed into the taunting piece of fabric that it disintegrated the chair it had been sitting on, gouged a groove in the stone floor and exploded the door behind it. Yet the fabric showed no signs of wear beyond the dust settling atop its surface as it lay on the landing at the top of the stairway.
"Renovating, Albus?" Came the voice of his deputy once the dust had settled, drawing his eye from the cloak to her stern face, cresting the upper curve of the stairwell.
Albus centred himself as she entered, followed by someone he could hear but not clearly see.
"Possibly, Minerva. I think I'll try it out for a few days. See how I like it." He replied, tapping his wand on the desk and repairing the damage the curse had made to the far side. "Who is our guest?"
Minerva stepped aside and Albus had to master his frustrations at the sight of the goblin now holding the fabled cloak in his grubby claws.
"I believe you've met Master Farkor before."
"Indeed. Just toss that on the chair beside you, Farkor. How can Hogwarts help the Goblin Nation today?" He eked out painfully.
"Well, I've already recovered one of the things I was asked to retrieve, so the Nation thanks you for its speedy handover," Farkor responded, stuffing the cloak into a bag at its waist and further angering Albus, though he refused to allow it to show. "I have instructions from my client to retrieve any further Potter family possessions you may still retain. Now that the heir is recognized, he seeks to have everything centralised for easier perusal at a later date."
Albus mulled his options as the little bastard handed over a letter listing every single item he had borrowed from the Potter family over the decades. Every item even had an exact current location, something that bothered him greatly as most of them were in places the goblins should not even know about.
He took a moment to calm himself as he passed the paper to Minerva. "Would you kindly help our guest with his efforts, Minerva? I'm afraid I've some urgent legislative matters to attend to this afternoon that would prevent me from aiding him."
Minerva took the list and raised her eyebrow slightly as she read through some of the items. Albus simply raised his own in return and she nodded politely, before gesturing for the goblin to precede her out of the now-empty doorway.
"Good day, Albus." She offered as she departed down the stairway and he had no choice but to watch one of the three artefacts vanish from his grip. And he was still no closer to learning the location of the one he most wished to control.
He glanced down at the singed paperwork on his desk and seethed further. The legislative matters he proclaimed to need addressing had arrived that morning and were a large part of why he had been musing on the Hallows. The Ministry had rejected all his proposals.
Infringing on the rights of honest upstanding citizens was going too far, they had stated. Or in layman's terms: Keep your hands off our rights.
None of them would risk him being able to use the changes on them at a later stage, no matter how much everyone wanted an in to curry favour with, or exert control over, the Boy-Who-Lived as he was now officially known in the papers.
Even the Unspeakables were aching to get their hands on the lad and learn how he had survived the unsurvivable.
The nickname irked him somewhat, though in truth he could not fathom why. Hagrid's poor foolish naivety the night he'd been sent to the destroyed home had led to its creation. The fact that Harry's body was not present in the rubble with his mother and father, led the half-giant to drunkenly speculate on the boy's survival in the middle of a crowded pub.
After all, even Voldemort's body had been present, though mangled almost beyond recognition by whatever the Potters had done in retaliation for the attack. From there, imagination and greed had led to the series's creation. He'd tried his best to squash the books but had found no grounds with which to act in their first year on the shelves, and had given up caring at that point.
His time was better spent elsewhere.
Though how the boy had survived was equally puzzling to Albus. None of the magic he had cast over the house after the fact had provided any clues as to what had occurred. The explosion had destroyed any trace of magic that may have been present. Perhaps if he'd tried harder he'd have learned of the boy's survival sooner.
The soft sound of phoenix song came from over his shoulder and Albus found the twisted emotions that had been boiling inside half the morning finally subsiding.
"Thank you, old friend." Albus sighed, relaxing into his chair as the soothing sounds washed away the frustrations that had built up from setback after setback.
For now, the Hallows as a whole were out of reach. But he saw an option still resting on the horizon. He would let sleeping dogs lie for now.
For in only a few short years, Albus thought as he glanced at the Hat on a shelf nearby, the opportunity would present itself once more.
ϟ
Wednesday 15 March 1989.
Harry raced forward as the small group appeared in the woods, skipping quickly amongst the trees.
"Harry, wait for me!" Hermione called, rapidly catching him up. "You aren't the only one who's excited."
"Slow down!" Mipsy called, invisibly following the children.
"It's been four months, Hermione. There is so much to catch up on."
"I'm aware. I've been doing the homework packets with you, remember." Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend. "I'm really looking forward to the stuff Mrs Parsons said we'll be working on now."
Richard and Natalie walked quietly behind the excited pair, enjoying the morning air, but mostly trying not to show their amusement. They'd spent as much time at the Potter Manor over the past few months as in their own home. Watching the children practise their control, walking the expansive and beautiful gardens, or just chatting for hours with Harry's family.
Remus had been of particular interest to them when he'd bashfully asked for the children to spend the next few days away from the Manor. It had taken several hours of carefully applied subtle interrogation before his secret came out. Richard had made it his own personal mission to cure the werewolf of his self-loathing and get him to see the finer aspects of his condition, whatever they might be.
Natalie was certain he would fail but supported his efforts nonetheless. Those few nights every month made her so grateful to Charlus as she watched the two sleep under the peaceful embrace of the wards now guarding her family.
She'd gone over his copious notes about the wards and had a much finer understanding of how the process worked now, though a lot of the work was supposition as he'd never had the opportunity or location to test his theories until Harry had met Hermione and 'come of age' in magic.
The man had spent decades investigating and analysing the magic at play. But it was the story that Harry had told of ruining and then repairing one of the anchor stones that finally allowed him the last piece of the puzzle.
The goblin stone maester that had been escorted around the property by Tybalt had been fascinated at the precision with which the elven magic had withdrawn the cores without damaging the exterior or the integrity of the stone itself. Something even their long-cultivated stonework magic would have had difficulty achieving. All thirteen stones were now fully restored and stronger than ever, he'd assured.
"Do you remember ever being that excited to learn?" Richard asked, pulling his wife from her thoughts.
"For the learning itself? Not so much. But I do recall a rather nervous lad spending more time eyeing me up than paying attention in dental school." Natalie responded, colouring her husband's cheeks. "You're lucky I'm such a good study buddy."
"I said slow down!" Mipsy yelled once more, drawing the adults' eyes and they once more had to stifle their laughter as the two children bounced off a small distortion in the air, falling on their butts in unison.
Natalie helped Hermione to her feet and brushed off her clothes as Richard aided Harry beside her. "You two have been top of the class since you met. Calm down and have a think. You'll catch back up to the others soon enough."
"I'm just excited to be going back. It's been so long." Harry groaned, bouncing in place as Richard kept the boy's hand in his own to prevent him from rushing off again.
"You could have gone back months ago, Harry," Hermione added, shuffling beside him. "You didn't have to wait for me to catch you up."
Harry quickly grabbed her hand and gave it a firm squeeze. "We're a team, Hermione. We learn everything together. Besides, I had fun helping you out."
Hermione smiled at the boy and the group quietly completed the remaining journey to the school. Natalie remembered well watching the two sitting for hours at a time in the gardens of the Manor or beneath the great reading oak, seemingly lost in meditation. Hermione had told her how she'd struggled to master herself, and how Harry would often use his magic to guide her own. The ease with which they worked together stunned her at times, given their young ages.
Arriving at the school gates, the quartet grinned at the students who were buzzing about to and fro with that energy that only children could muster so early in the day. Just watching them made Richard groan quietly.
"Alright, remember the details?" Natalie asked, squeezing Hermione's hand.
"Yes. Whooping cough that I picked up on holiday in Spain. Harry was with us so he got it too."
"And Nemea and Mipsy," Harry whispered, eyeing the passing children as he did, "will be following the both of us all day ready to get us out and summon Uncle Moony if something goes wrong."
"Perfect." Natalie knelt down and pulled the two into a hug. She smiled as they both snuggled into it, rather than the usual reaction of children their age being shown affection in front of their peers. "Have fun, you two."
The gentle peck she placed on Harry's cheek, however, had the boy pull away and blush violently. "Argh, not in front of them!" He called, rushing towards the entrance.
The adults smiled and Hermione looked a little put out as she remained by her mother's side. Her face relaxed once she received a peck of her own and she smiled at her mother before rushing after Harry's retreating form.
"To be young again," Richard mumbled as the children vanished inside the building.
Natalie nodded beside him as she rubbed the tight bracelet Harry had given her a few days after their second trip to the Manor. The moonstone on her own matched the jasper on Richard's. After spending so much time with the two children over the past months, it almost felt like that first day sending Hermione off on her own to learn.
She sighed as the bell sounded and the children filed inside, hoping that things were smoothing back into place for their family once more.
ϟ
Thursday 23rd March 1989.
Three months of searching and he had nothing to show for it. Remus was beginning to lose hope that there was any evidence they could use to build a case. He'd been through the entire Ministry archive from the time of the arrest three times over.
The arresting officers had taken Sirius's rambling as a confession and simply locked him up. No investigation was done. Hagrid's claim to have seen Sirius flee the Potter's ruined home was all the corroboration they'd needed. His untouched wand went to evidence, he went to Azkaban and no one seemed to have bothered looking at matters again.
"Come on, Padfoot. Help me out here... " He mumbled as he continued searching the news archives. Every moment he had that wasn't watching after the kids was spent looking into his friend's imprisonment, and yet everything he found pointed towards the man's guilt.
Had he not heard the truth of the Secret Keeper from Lily and James themselves, he'd really be struggling to believe it. How had Pettigrew fooled them all? They'd never treated him poorly had they? Years of friendship were thrown away, and for what? What did Peter stand to gain by selling out the Potters? Yet, try as he might, Remus could not bring himself to think of a single thing that could get him to betray his closest friends like that.
Not even a cure to his curse would be enough to break that bond.
He groaned and stretched painfully, the full moon having been the night before, as he cast aside yet another old paper. It seemed the research was not going to provide the evidence he needed. Not even the package prepared by the Potters for him had helped.
The secret was so vital to their lives that they'd concealed it all the way to their own deaths and Sirius's doom.
ϟ
Wednesday 29th March 1989.
Ginny Weasley was excited.
For years she had followed the adventures laid out in the books that Bill had gifted to her. Battles with dragons, sphinx and nundu. Evil wizards thwarted and cast down. All for the hand and love of the beautiful princess. Her flowing red hair and brown eyes had apparently been Bill's incentive to buy them for her to begin with, but it had become a ritual between them nowadays.
She would receive two of them every year. One for Christmas and the other on her birthday during his summers back from Hogwarts. Each night of the holidays, Bill would tuck her in and read the newest tale to her as a bedtime story.
Ginny would drift off to the sound of his voice and enter fantastical dreams where her knight would swoop in and rescue her. Riding atop his pure white winged stallion, wand a blur as he decimated the enemy forces. His green eyes gazed into her own as he lifted her astride his steed and vanished together into the night.
And now, she had proof of his greatness. While her father read it every morning on the day of release, Ginny was the baby of the family. She was at the bottom of the information ladder in the Weasley home, with everyone but Ron reading the Daily Prophet before she did. Ron would simply take the sports pages and disappear to his orange-plastered room, seeking the latest stats on his favourite Quidditch team.
Ginny, however, was enraptured by the tiny figure barely visible on the front page. He looked just like the figure on the covers of her books. Thick unruly black hair sticking up in all directions. And though the paper was only published in black and white, the article below described the vivid green of the eyes no less than four times. All that was missing were the glasses of the Boy-Who-Lived.
Even the massed group of warriors around him looked like something from her dreams.
"Oh, there you are, dear. Come now, Ginny, it's time for lunch." Her mother called, finding her curled up beneath the stairs. "Are you reading that old paper again?"
Ginny shot out from under the stairs and tucked the well-worn paper under her arm, shaking her head in denial.
Her mother smiled at Ginny as she guided her to the kitchen, where the rest of her siblings were gathered about the table, eating noisily. Having nine people in such a small space all talking different things had a habit of getting loud. But thankfully it was still mid-term, so it was only the pre-Hogwarts crew and their mum today.
"I'm going to marry him one day, mummy," Ginny whispered as her mother placed her in her spot at the table.
Ron rolled his eyes next to her and continued his meal while the Twins sitting opposite smiled at her.
"That's nice, Ginny. Eat up, now. It would be nice to have such a sweet boy as part of the family. But you need to finish your dinner if you want to grow up tall and beautiful enough to catch his eye." Molly commented absently as she sat herself down.
Ginny could tell her mother was humouring her. She'd heard the tone often enough over the years. Being the youngest often sucked in a family so large. She'd been given the 'that's nice' tone so much that she had almost injured her eyes permanently from rolling them so hard. It was so rare for her to get the things she wanted, and was one of the reasons she was so fond of Bill.
His summer jobs left him with actual money and he loved to spoil her rotten. Even Charlie had begun a few jobs of his own to bring in some extra money, but he tended to dote on the Twins more than her. Buying them all sorts of odds and ends that they'd hide in their room and make horrible noises with. While they made her laugh at times, Bill was definitely her favourite. Hopefully, the amazing news their father had brought home the day before would lead to a change in her getting what she wanted.
"You'll see," Ginny mumbled as she started in on the food before her. She'd show them all.
One day she'd be the beautiful princess and her green-eyed hero would come to sweep her off her feet. Unaware that across the world, hundreds of little girls were making the same plans and dreams.
ϟ
Sunday 2nd April 1989.
Life had become quite routine for Remus.
His mornings were spent getting Harry and occasionally Hermione ready for school, assisting the elves where possible. The children had tested him a few times over the past few months but his talent for pranking and the mind that had kept the Marauders well under their fair share of detentions had soon taught them a few limits.
Once the kids were at the school, now covered by the strongest wards Remus had ever felt in his life outside of this bubble, he would spend an hour or so catching up with James and Lily. The stories they shared brought almost as much joy to his new life as watching the kids reading to one another under the oak tree in the Grangers' backyard.
After a life full of hits and pain, Remus was finally finding his feet. Richard's refusal to let him wallow in his disease had certainly helped as well. It was almost like the disaster that had nearly destroyed the Marauders had never happened. Happy children, good friends, clean untattered clothing, a soft bed to call home every night.
Stability had not been a constant in his world since the day his parents had died. Until the Potters had dragged him kicking and screaming into it once more.
Settling down to read the paper with his lunch, Remus found the stability shattered once more as half the sandwich he had been eating landed across the room. He rocketed out of his seat, not bothering to clean up as he rushed into the small sitting room in which he knew James and Lily liked to spend their noons. And quickly spun about upon seeing the state of dress of those in the painting.
"Damnit, Prongs, clothe yourself now!" Remus demanded.
"Oi! This is Me time, Moony, bugger off."
"This is important, you jackass!"
"Stag, not ass!" James snapped back, accompanied by shuffling sounds. "Fine, we're decent."
Remus turned cautiously, knowing his friend far too well to trust his word on such things. The last time James had spoken those words he'd turned to find the man standing proud before him. Body-shy James Potter was not. He was happy to find this time they had been serious.
"The same cannot be said for you, Remus. Accident in the kitchen?" Lily asked red-faced, looking at him with her head tilted to the side. Though he knew all too well her reddened cheeks were not thanks to his predicament, but her husband's interrupted efforts.
Remus looked down to find most of the other half of his lunch was resting down his front. Groaning, he tapped the mess with his wand, clearing it away before noticing the paper crushed in his left hand. He picked it up and began to read the article tucked at the base of the front page.
"Ministry of Magic Employee Scoops Grand Prize." He began.
"Moony, how is this more important…"
Remus glared James into silence and continued, "Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry of Magic has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw this week. A delighted Mr Weasley told the Daily Prophet, 'We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Brazil, where our eldest son, Bill, has requested we go as his graduation gift.'
"William, 17, who shall shortly finish his Hogwarts career tackling an impressive set of NEWT classes, is said to be considering his career choices with the trip to South America. Though the paper has received exclusive reports from those close to the boy that the destination chosen has to do with a case of love by letter, and that the lad picked his journey for the chance to meet his long-time pen pal from Castelobruxo.
"With his graduation from the school, Bill leaves behind two younger brothers and the Weasley Twins who are due to begin at Hogwarts in the coming semester. The Prophet congratulates the Weasely family on their good fortune and wishes them a happy holiday."
James began to clap, a mocking look adorning his face as he glared at his friend while Lily just looked perplexed.
"If you interrupted happy time just to tell me the Weasleys won some money, Moony, I am going to find a way to kill you." James chided.
Remus scowled and turned the paper around, showing the pair in the painting the accompanying photograph. The picture showed nine people gathered on the lawn outside Hogwarts. The parents Arthur and Molly stood on either side of their eldest, while the caption informed the viewer that the boys on their left and right were Charlie and Percy respectively. The four in front, however, went unnamed as far as James was concerned as the man leapt forward and growled with rage.
"Spotted it, did you?" Remus smirked.
Lily looked back and forth between the two for a moment before she spoke. "I hope you two plan to explain what is so important very quickly."
Remus glanced at her before pointing to the rat perched on Percy's shoulder.
"Lovely, the boy has a pet rat," Lily replied simply.
"That's Wormtail!" James growled, looking every bit like he wished he could leap into the newspaper and rip the little animal to shreds.
"Impossible."
"I've seen that rat change a million times, Lily," Remus replied. "There is no mistaking it. The picture may be terrible, but you can clearly see his distinguishing marks." Remus pointed out the odd colouring of the hairs about the creature's nose and ears.
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely," Remus replied. "I've been over the reports of the incident forward and back. The only thing left of Peter was his index finger. Look at the right paw. This rat is missing the exact same finger."
"I'll kill him!" James railed, searching the edge of the painting for a way out.
"Calm down, James. This might be exactly what we need." Lily laid a hand on her husband's shoulder, turning him away from the frame. "He is the evidence we've been missing."
The change in James was immediate. "Padfoot."
"Yes." Remus cut in. "If we can capture the rat, we can cast doubt on everything he was locked away for. Maybe even get a confession from Wormtail."
"Moony," James stated, a look of demented glee on his features neither had seen in a long time, "it's planning time."