Disclaimer: If this was mine, I wouldn't be here.
A/N: The result of being bored in the afternoon.

"Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too."
-Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone page 27

1985

He had been unofficially banned from Little Whinging; not Surrey, just Little Whinging and Privet Drive in particular. Remus Lupin grinned at nothing in particular and wrapped his coat further around him. He wasn't in Privet Drive; he was standing outside a shop on his way to Privet Drive; not to do anything in particular - just to watch for a while, stalk if you will. And if Albus Dumbledore happened to cross his path, he would say: "Fancy seeing you here. Dolly Mixture?" and offer him the bag. He wasn't a sharer of sweets so he couldn't really say fairer than that.

He leant against the wall and sighed. Harry wouldn't recognise him as his former babysitter and unofficial uncle and he did look rather like a flasher in this coat, he thought, wishing he'd chosen an old one of his father's instead.

"Now, stay here."

Lupin froze. He knew that nasal voice anywhere. He peered around the corner in time to catch sight of Petunia Dursley's bag swinging behind her and her plump 'little angel' dragging on the other arm.

And there he was. He stood outside the shop door and kicked a stone around with shoes that were just slightly past the point of far too large and an undone, dirty lace. He looked like a refugee with messy black hair - just like his father's - and too large clothes. Lupin laughed bitterly. They both looked as though they were using the same personal shopper.

"Hey, kiddo."

Harry looked up and smiled. He clearly hadn't been given the 'don't talk to strangers' chat because frankly, any child who would not run a mile at the sight of a scarred man in an anorak who looked as though he hadn't slept for three years, was clearly unhinged.

"Hello, sir." He spoke with the same accent as his mother and Lupin fought to swallow. "I'm Harry."

"I…" Lupin stopped himself and plastered on a smile. He wanted to give him the 'I could have been anybody' speech but didn't like to. The harsh reality was that he was a stranger and it wouldn't do to have Harry asking questions. That bloody woman would probably have him arrested. "Where are your real clothes?"

Harry frowned and kicked the stone hard. "These are my real clothes."

Oh God. Lupin didn't know how to react in situations like this. Usually, he made a large amount of tea and ate sugar lumps but something told him that the situation did not call for it. "And very nice they are, too," he said eventually. "Can you not tie your laces?"

Harry shook his head. "Dudley can. He doesn't but he could if he wanted."

Lupin grinned at him. "Do you want me to try?" He knelt down. "Now, you cross them over and you loop this one here, then you pass the other one through it and then," he paused for dramatic effect. "You pull it." He did so and Harry stared down in wonder at the lace. "Why don't you try it with the other one?"

Lupin got to his feet hurriedly. It wouldn't be long before Petunia would leave and then she'd hit him with her handbag. "Remember, cross, loop, pass, pull."

Harry did as he was told and sure enough, the lace was re-tied. "Thanks."

Lupin smiled. "No problem. Where's your Aunt?"

Harry looked up at him and frowned. "How do you know Aunt Petunia?"

Lupin licked his lips. "I…er…I heard you call her as you were walking with her."

Harry sighed. "Oh," and remembered that he had been asked a question. "She's gone into the shop. Dudley spends ages buying sweets."

Lupin felt sorry for him. It couldn't be easy. "Do you like Dolly Mixtures?"

Harry frowned. "Do they come in purple packets?"

Lupin nodded. "They're my favourites. Would you like one to try?"

Harry pressed his lips together, smiled slightly and nodded. "Yes, please." He reached into the clear plastic bag and pulled out an orange and brown square. He chewed, tilting his head and thinking hard about something. "I like them."

Lupin winked. "Have the bag?"

"Really?"

He nodded. "I'll buy another one." He waited for a moment and said, "Will your Aunt mind me giving you sweets?"

"Maybe. She doesn't like me having things." Harry smiled grimly.

Lupin frowned and sucked in a breath. "Maybe you'd better keep them for when you're on your own then, eh?"

Harry smiled and put the bag in his immense pocket. It drooped slightly but it wasn't obvious that he was carrying anything in it. "Have them later, okay?" He paused, reluctant to leave. "Now, listen, Harry, you really shouldn't take things from someone you've only just met."

Harry looked up with wide eyes. "Do you want them back?"

Lupin laughed affectionately. "No, Harry, you can keep those. I mean, from people other than me and er…other people that…I don't know…maybe your Aunt knows; people like that, okay?"

Harry nodded. "What's your name?"

Lupin grinned. "I see. You're trying to make me less of a stranger, are you?" All right, so maybe he had had the talk. "Well, some people call me by lots of names but…er…I think you can call me…" He trailed off and wondered why it was so impossible to think of any name other than your own when trying to give a false name. It occurred to him that he could just play with his own. "You can call me John because…er….because that is my name." He heard the bell ring and turned quickly before Petunia could get a decent look at his face. "See you, Harry."

Harry watched him go and knew he wouldn't be heard but waved and shouted, "Bye!"

Petunia wrinkled her nose. "Who are you talking to?"

"John," Harry replied as though this were the most obvious thing in the world.

"John? John who?" snapped Petunia.

"John," Harry repeated. He tried to point him out but he had disappeared. "Well, he was here a minute ago."

Petunia pursed her lips and slapped him round the back of the head. "Don't be ridiculous."

Dudley laughed and slapped him all the way home. Harry didn't care. He smiled smugly. After all, he had half a pound of Dolly Mixtures and Dudley didn't. It could be worse, he thought. It could be a lot worse.