CHAPTER ONE

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.

"Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone," he told me, "just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had."

That was before the incident, of course, back when I'd actually had some advantages; and neither of us realized it until later, but the words doubled as a warning. My father forgot his own advice when he was called into the Ministry and, in a fit of rage, announced to the Wizengamot that the man called Fenrir Greyback was a soulless, evil werewolf who deserved nothing but death. The criticisms were ignored by the Ministry, and they let their prisoner go.

(Greyback heard every word.)

That was the night of the full moon; the night Greyback forced open my window from the outside and sank his teeth into my skin. He meant to kill me, I imagine, but my father arrived in time to fend him off and save my life. Then it was months of treatments in St. Mungo's, with painful injections and stinging salves and potions that burned my throat and scalded my stomach. It was agonizing transformations, and sleepless nights that I somehow couldn't remember the next morning, and it was the screams of a five-year-old boy begging his parents to let him die.

In the end, they couldn't cure the lycanthropy.

My father built me a tiny shed with chains that wrapped all the way around, and once per month it became my prison. I despised that shed, from the claw marks on the walls to the tiny hole in the ceiling that let in the moonlight, and I told my father a hundred times that I hated him for making me go inside.

(I didn't realize back then that he hated it as much as I did - maybe more - and I didn't know until long after he'd died that on the night of every full moon he sat outside my shed and listened to me howl while he cried into his arms.)

Maybe that was what drew me to Potter, in the end: he was stuck in a cage, same as I was, only his wasn't made of wood and nails. His chains were made of time; every day added a new link, and the longer he spent looking back the more out-of-reach it became.

I didn't move out of my father's house until he passed away. It didn't take long to pack my things - I didn't have much, other than a locket that was my mother's and the key to the Gringotts vault Dad left me in his will. I was tempted to send a blasting charm at my old shed, but destroying the past does not erase it, so in the end I left it standing.

I stood by the end of the walk and took a long last look at the house. It wasn't extravagant - two bedrooms, one bath, a tiny kitchen, and a parlor for the company that stopped calling after the incident - but it was the only home I had ever known.

"All right, Remus?" the new owner asked. I nodded, and he clapped me on the back. "Hard to say goodbye, I know."

He offered me his hand, and I shook.

"Safe travels," the new owner said with a smile, and I turned on the spot and Disapparated.

I reappeared just outside my new neighborhood. Godric's Hollow was a mixed community - some wizards, some muggles, all living in between each other - and in a town like that it wouldn't do to appear from out of nowhere in the middle of the street. As I walked through the village on my way to the new house, I wondered for the first time what I was going to do when the full moon hit. Build another shed? Lock myself in a closet?

(Kill yourself?)

But that thought was unbidden, unwanted, and I pushed it from my mind and turned the key in the front door of Number 221. It was airy, and white, and the perfect size for a family of one.

I left my suitcase in the foyer and moved to the master bedroom. It looked out over a lake - my house had a dock, but there was no money in my father's Gringotts vault for a boat, so my view was unobstructed by any kind of watercraft. Not like the house next door, which had a bright yellow speedboat tethered to the shore, or the one across the way, with a green sailboat christened The Daisy bobbing gently in the calm waves.

The faint tap-tap-tap of an owl at the window drew me away from the master bedroom and back out into my front hall. "Hello," I said, letting it in and offering it my arm as a perch. The owl deposited a letter on the windowsill and hooted gently when I ran my hand over its head-feathers. "Thank you," I told it, and the owl leaped from my arm and took off through the window.

Dear Remus, the letter read.

First of all - how dare you. I know we haven't seen each other since our school days, but I thought we were close enough that you'd at least write me to say you'd be moving into our neighborhood! Sirius told me the news last night, and I've been terribly angry with you ever since.

I do hope you'll come by once you've unpacked your things. We have so much to talk about! Sirius and I would be happy to show you around the neighborhood, introduce you to some people, feed you all the gossip. And I've missed you, Remus. We both have.

The address is Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

Hoping to see you soon,

Lily Evans Black.

I folded the letter and stowed it in my pocket. They didn't live far - Grimmauld Place was just across the lake. I could have Apparated, but I chose to walk. Fresh air was good for you, my father had always said, and it would be nice to get a better feel for the neighborhood in the process.

The house next door to mine, the one with the yellow speedboat, was far grander than my own humble home. Three stories high, with a tower on one side covered under a thin layer of ivy, and a marble swimming pool, and a large garden with a hedge that separated our yards. The name on the mailbox proclaimed the house belonged to a Potter.

I couldn't help but wonder what Mr. Potter was hiding behind his hedge, and whether he'd be willing to let his neighbor hide in his garden one night per month.

"Remus!"

Lily Evans - Lily Black now, but she'd been Evans when I'd known her and she remained Evans in my mind - nearly flew down the steps to catch me in a hug. "I knew you'd come," she said with a grin, and then she slapped my shoulder. "Really, Remus, you move in practically next door and you don't even bother to tell me?"

"I wasn't sure you'd want me around."

Number 12, Grimmauld Place was directly across the lake from my house, it turned out. Theirs was the dock that held the green sailboat. It was an extravagant house: two stories high with marble floors and a porch and a spectacular view of the rest of Godric's Hollow. My entire house would have fit in the kitchen.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I want you around." She began to tug me inside. "Sirius is so eager to see you. And I've got a friend inside, I've told her so much about you and she's just dying to meet you!"

"How much have you told her?"

Lily looked up into my eyes. "She doesn't know about your Furry Little Problem," she promised. Her hand moved up to caress the pearls around her neck - a nervous habit she'd had for as long as I'd known her. "She does know you have scars on your face, but I told her you were attacked by a dog once. I kept your secret."

I gave her a smile. "Thank you."

Lily went into the house ahead of me. "Dora!" she called. "Dora, he's here!"

"About time," and Dora appeared in the doorway.

She was younger than Lily, with a wicked glint in her eyes and a strong chin that she kept held high. Her lips fluttered when she saw me, as if I weren't quite what she'd expected - as if I were less than what she'd expected - and I felt the blood rise to my cheeks.

"This is Dora Tonks," Lily murmured in my ear. "Dora, this is my very dear friend, Remus Lupin."

"Mr. Lupin," Dora said with a slow smile. "Charmed, I'm - "

But she was knocked out of the way by one Sirius Black. "Moony!" he cried as he bounded out of the house. "Moony, you git, why didn't you bloody write?"

"I wasn't sure you'd want me around," I said with a glance up at Dora.

"We want you around," Lily insisted, and she ushered us into the house. "There's dinner on the table," she said, guiding me into the dining room. "I'll just be one second, I've got to check on the baby."

"The baby?" I repeated.

"Yes, the baby - he's nine months old. Haven't you ever seen him?"

"Never."

"Well, you ought to see him."

Dora let out a groan and stretched her arms far over her head. "I'm stiff," she complained, and she was talking to Lily but her eyes were trained on me. "I've been lying on that sofa for years."

"Don't look at me," Lily retorted as she bustled in from the kitchen with a pile of plates and silverware in her hands. With a flick of her wand, the table began to set itself. "I've been trying to get you to come into London with me all afternoon."

"And I told you, I'm not interested in prancing around Diagon Alley all day." Dora was still looking at me. "You live on the other side of the lake," she said, taking a seat at the dining room table. "I know somebody there."

"Really?" I sat down across from her. "I don't know anybody."

"You must know Potter."

A pile of dishes hit the floor with a clatter; Lily's wrist had twitched. "Potter?" she said, and her eyes were wide. "What Potter?"

"Lily," Sirius said from his place at the head of the table. "Are we going to eat, or not?"

"We are," Lily said, turning slightly red as she turned back toward the kitchen.

Sirius sighed as he looked at the broken plates on the floor. "Clumsy as hell," he muttered, flicking his wand to repair the broken chinaware. "I want to take you into London some time," he said to me. "Show you all the places in Diagon Alley we never went as schoolboys."

"That's an awful lot of excitement for me," I began as Lily swept back into the room and began to scoop stew onto our plates.

"Damn it, Lily, are you a witch or aren't you?" Sirius interrupted.

She clenched her jaw. "Do it yourself, if you want it done with magic," she fired back, but she drew her wand and sent the correct portions flying toward us.

Sirius looked like he was about to raise his voice - which was just like him, even in the old days; the man had a temper, and so did Lily Evans, and it was a wonder this house was still standing with the two of them living in it - when an owl swooped in through the open window and landed at the head of the table. Sirius unwound the letter from its feet and frowned as he looked at the handwriting on the envelope.

"For me?" Lily asked, but there was a dullness in her tone that suggested she already knew the answer.

"For me," Sirius said, throwing his napkin on the table and standing. "Excuse me," he added for Dora's and my benefits, and then he moved into the next room.

Lily stabbed into her stew with a fork. "It's lovely to have you at my table, Remus," she said with a smile, but her face was glowing red. "You've been missed. You've been dearly missed."

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome." She kept glancing at the door that concealed Sirius. "I - will you excuse me, please, for just a moment?"

Dora sent me a sly glance that I didn't understand. "Erm. So. This Mr. Potter you spoke of, he's my neighbor - " I started.

"Don't talk. I want to hear what happens."

"Is something going to happen?" I asked.

"You mean you don't know?" Dora's eyes were large with honest surprise. "I thought everyone knew."

"I don't."

"Sirius has a girl. In London."

"Has a - a girl?"

Dora nodded. "You'd think she'd have the decency not to owl during dinner."

"He's married to Lily," I said stupidly, and Dora laughed.

"Of course he's married to Lily! But he's Sirius Black. He gets bored. Don't you know him at all?"

And there was nothing I could say to that, so I went back to my stew and tried as hard as I could not to listen to the conversation happening behind that door.

I walked home in the dark with only the light of the moon - a half-moon, not a full one, not yet - to guide me back to Number 221. It was unsettling. The dark had always been unsettling to me; every shadow was a monster, every movement was Greyback. As I fumbled with my house key, the silhouette of a cat caught my eye, and as I turned to watch it I saw that I was not alone.

Thirty feet away the figure of a man had stepped out from the shadow of my neighbor's house. He was standing on the lawn, just outside his hedge, with his back to the street, and he was gazing out over the lake. It could only have been Mr. Potter himself, and his name rose to my lips, but I didn't dare call to him. He took no notice of me, but simply looked out over the water, head pointed in the general direction of the dock directly across from us.

I followed his gaze to the green sailboat docked at the Black house, bobbing calmly in the water. I watched it rock for a moment, and then turned back to examine Mr. Potter.

But he was gone.