Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or it's characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling.

Author's Note: Rated T just in case. This is starting off in Remus' point of view, but the story is going to be centered on Sirius and Harry, and what could have been had Sirius been released ten years earlier. I first published this story a few years ago and had the first seven chapters up, but I am re-uploading it now, as I'm doing some fixing up and revising. Enjoy!


Remus Lupin muttered incoherently to himself as he strode down the snow covered street. He was growing increasingly discouraged by all the job refusals because of his... condition. The shop owner's sputtering voice still rang in his ears: "I refuse to let a savage- a beast- into my store! Get out! Get out now!"

It's only one day a month that I'm not fit to work, but that argument does not reach them... The werewolf bit his lip in thought, tucking his hands into the pockets of his old, tattered overcoat.

He was in a foul mood. And why shouldn't he be? Quite frankly, his life had been all but promising lately. Just over two years previous, he had lost all four of his dearest friends in a single night: two to Voldemort himself, one to another so called 'friend', and one to the dark side.

The following months had found him mainly cooped up in his home. He'd felt as though all he could do was wallow in his own grief, in his failure to stop what had happened, and in his anger at the man they'd all trusted. He'd thought the least he could do was try to take Harry in, James and Lily's boy- he owed that much to them- but was he was quickly told this was not possible.

It was a miserable time, the very worst of his life. His friends had been his family. To be so completely, suddenly alone had left the man feeling a shell of himself.

He was making the effort to continue onward, though, having had eventually forced himself out of his small cottage. It had seemed to be closing in on him after too long, effectively trapping him in his loneliness. He'd numbly gotten up and continued where he'd left off with his search for a job. No such luck had been granted to him in the year that had passed, and Remus, normally a man of patience, felt his wearing thin.

As he passed closing stores, he absentmindedly eyed the Christmas decorations hung in the windows. The sight of a smiling Santa toy flying around in his sleigh and the faint sound of holiday tunes did little to lift his spirits, this year. He watched as children giggled and chased one another down the sidewalk, snow packed in their hands, accidentally bumping into a young couple. The children's stern faced parents rushed after them, shopping bags in hand. He suddenly felt very old, hardly like a man in his early twenties.

The cold air nipped at him and he shivered, deciding it was time to head home. Tomorrow would be a new day, he hoped. As he continued his stride, burrowing his chin into his neck for warmth, he spotted a group of multiple redheads exiting a shop.

The Weasleys, he thought, a tiny smile playing at his lips. He'd recognize the fiery haired family a mile away. Molly Weasley was currently ushering her children along as the older two- they looked like twins- laughed at a younger brother, whose cheeks were pink with embarrassment.

"Oh, you two! Both of you, quick picking on your brother! Don't you listen to them, Ron," he overheard Molly say sternly, holding Ron's small hand as she shot a warning glare at the two still chuckling boys.

Before Remus could wonder idly what the mischievous looking boys had done to embarrass the little boy- he couldn't be older than four, about Harry's age, Remus thought sadly- another son of Molly's exited the shop. He held what looked like a pet rodent in his gloved hands.

"Percy, dear, you really shouldn't have brought Scabbers along, it's far too cold..." Molly was saying, but Remus was no longer listening. His gaze lingered on the rat.

Something sparked in Remus' foggy brain, and a faint but familiar smell overwhelmed his heightened senses. His stomach dropped. After a moment of shock he picked up his pace, squinting at the small creature in the boys hands. This was absolutely ridiculous of him, he tried to tell himself; his friend was dead, lots of little boys owned pet rats, it could not possibly be, but that smell-

The rat, now squirming frantically in young Weasley's grip as he seemed to catch sight of a rather wild looking Remus, was missing a toe.