A/N: Some of you have been waiting for Hermione to join us. She's been here since the first chapter, but...if you want to shake hands, here she is.

Part the Third, 2 September 1985

Remus felt inordinately proud, so much so that his chest was all but puffing out. He might have even strutted at Harry's side as he and Sirius walked the lad to his first day at Magical Day School in Pwllheli, Wales.

A farming and seaside community in legendary Gwynedd that had sheltered a magical component since the fourteenth century, Pwllheli had proven a safe haven for a trio of misfits such as they. Sirius: the wealthy Head of the House of Black, who had claimed his position after the death of his unlamented mother earlier that year. Harry: the boy who had managed to survive the Killing Curse that had rebounded somehow (no one knew how) on Voldemort himself and who had a target on his back. Remus: a werewolf with no prospects at all. An odd company, to be sure, Remus reflected as they reached the warded, stone-crafted cottage.

Harry, his eyes alight behind the spectacles he'd need until he was old enough to have his vision adjusted with a special series of charms, waved a bit of parchment. "I can see it, Dad! I can, Uncle Remus!"

"That's because you must be a marvelous reader," a female voice said. With a tilt of her head, a young woman sent up an owl with a parchment on its leg before bobbing a quick curtsy. "I'm Jean Dagworth," she said. "Mistress of the Pwllheli Day School. I sent you an owl last month, didn't I?" Her smile was warm as she met Remus's eyes. "And, I daresay, your reputation goes before you, for all you've been out of the country for most of the year."

Sirius cleared his throat and stepped in front of the cobbled-together family the males made. "Reputation? What reputation?" he demanded. Remus could see that he was only barely refraining from pulling out his wand.

Mistress Dagworth's brown eyes glinted with sure humor. "Mister Black. Mister Lupin. Mister Potter. Surely you've kept up with the public attention you've garnered over the years. The gallant rescue, the immediate retreat into anonymity—"

"That didn't appear to have worked too well," Remus murmured, watching the teacher's careful expression.

Harry shook the parchment again. "Anon-what? This isn't that. We live in Pwllheli!"

Mistress Dagworth grinned at the boy. "So do we all, eh? Come, all of you. I'll give you the tour before we settle in for our first day."

Sirius wasn't appeased. "Just a moment. Really." Gray eyes narrowed in obvious suspicion, he examined the young woman from head to toe. Remus was at first amused, but then he abruptly grew annoyed when Sirius's attention seemed to linger inappropriately. "I didn't have the opportunity to investigate the school before, as we were away, but I want to make sure this is a safe environment for my son."

"Of course you do, Mister Black. I've got certifications and bona fides and so on in my office and you, Mister Lupin, are free to inspect the wards." She offered her hand to Harry to shake. "Mister Potter. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."

The boy took her hand in his and made three abrupt motions before letting go. "Thanks! Am I really going to school? I want to go. Can girls be teachers, too? I've only had boy teachers."

Jean Dagworth laughed lightly and turned to lead them past the deceptively simple wooden gate into a clean swept yard that was bordered on three sides by herb gardens. "Indeed they can. At Hogwarts, where you might go one day, many of the professors are women. And I've earned two of my masteries from women as well."

"Two?" Remus and Sirius asked simultaneously.

After that, Remus paid more attention to the wards that arced over the school grounds. It seemed that young Mistress Dagworth was a complicated person. He followed the teacher, Sirius, and Harry as they strode slowly toward the main door of the cottage, but his senses were focused on the surroundings, not the people. The green scents from the gardens, the dry aridity of books and paper as they entered the building, honey and beeswax, homey smells swirled and settled in the air around them.

And then, there were the Runes.

Etched into door frames and ceiling beams, there were protective wards everywhere. Those were for impenetrability, those others were fire-warded. Emergency protections, it seemed, but there was more. The older Runes. Arcane and secretive, worked into every possible point of ingress and egress to the cottage had been wrought.

This place would stand up against an invasion from either Death Eaters or Aurors, he suspected.

Who was Jean Dagworth? He had to know!

There were a few instructors at the Day School, he saw as the Headmistress gave them their tour. All of them showed the young woman fond respect but no untoward attention toward Harry—which was a relief.

"So, do we pass?" Mistress Dagworth inquired in a soft, secretive voice as Sirius and Harry were saying brief farewells near the main entrance. Other students were arriving; there appeared to be perhaps seven or eight, of varying ages. "Mister Lupin?"

He shook himself and saw that he was standing quite near the woman—a woman near enough to his own age as to make him even more aware of the heat he could feel emanating from her skin, the way her golden brown hair curled at the end of a long braid that wound down her back, and the scents of lavender and vanilla that surrounded her. "I missed your certifications," he said, "but I was quite impressed with the warding. Your doing?"

Her lips quirked in a smile. "Every last one. First mastery was in Ancient Runes, after all."

"One of my favorite subjects," Remus responded with a smile of his own. "Perhaps we could discuss them sometime?"

Where had that come from? The invitation had fallen from his mouth as he'd been studying her face—the smooth, olive-toned complexion, thick lashes, the rosy under-hue of her cheeks that matched her wide lips perfectly. Was she a beauty? Maybe not, but he found her to be terribly attractive. And her Rune work was astonishing.

That under-hue intensified as she dropped her gaze. "That, that would be nice, Mister Lupin."

Sirius and Harry rejoined them. "Well, Miss Dagworth, I know Harry's eager to start his day," Sirius said, ruffling the boy's impossible hair. "Thank you for the tour. One of us will be back for him at three."

"Have fun, Harry," Remus said, dropping one hand to the lad's shoulder.

"I will, Uncle Remus! Bye!"

"And that was our cue." Remus caught Jean Dagworth's look with a rueful smile. "Hope you have a good day as well, Mistress Dagworth."

"I'm sure we will."

Sirius smirked, but kept his thoughts to himself until they were beyond the school's wards and on the road back to their own modest cottage. The air was clean and smelled of the ocean, the air was on the pleasant edge of cool, and Remus felt as if nothing would irk him for days on end.

Something of this might have shown in his demeanor, because his best mate started in on him with an elbow to the ribs. "So? Jean Dagworth? You looked awfully close and chatty there, Moony. Something you're not telling me?"

Remus didn't even try to hide his grin. "What? The woman is brilliant. Did you see the wards? That school could stand up to Dumbledore, I'm fairly certain."

Sirius snorted, but then he paused, stopping in the road with a hand on Remus's chest to halt him likewise. "Why the bloody hell would she need wards that strong on a magical day school?"

The day seemed to dim for a few moments as Remus met Sirius's direct stare. "That's something I wondered about myself. Maybe she's just very cautious?"

"Or maybe she's got something to hide." Sirius scraped his hands through his heavy black hair.

"What, though?" he asked as they resumed their walk on the side of the road. "She can't be much older than we are and—"

"And what? She looks innocent? Pettigrew looked innocent." With a derisive gesture, Sirius blew out a breath. "Well, I trust her with Harry. If only because her wards are so damned tight. And she's got Masteries in Ancient Runes, Defense Against the Dark Arts, as well as Potions."

Remus stumbled over his own big feet. "What? Three? How old is she? I swear, she looks maybe—"

"I know! That's what I'm saying. So, why don't you pick up Harry this afternoon and see if you can suss anything out of her. She seemed," he added with a wicked grin, "to fancy you."

The conversation went from teasing to curious all the way back to the house. Upon arriving at their home, Remus pointed at the roof. "Looks like we've got company."

The owl was entirely nondescript, but not so the parchment it carried. Sirius took it whilst Remus rummaged in the kitchen for something for the owl.

"Hey, Moony? You should come see this," Sirius called from the front parlor.

"Coming." He entered, offered the owl her reward, and didn't even watch as it flew back out through the front door as Sirius was thrusting a piece of parchment under his nose. "Oi, what?"

"Read this! You told me that you got that note that, that night. The one that told you about Pettigrew," Sirius said, passing a hand over his face in clear distress.

Runes. Written with a plain Muggle Biro. On parchment, rather than lined paper this time. A cold knot formed in Remus's chest.

The letter began in conventional English script, but continued mostly in Runes, just as that first one had, years prior. He wiped a sudden sweat from his temple and swallowed. "Same. Looks the same, Pads."

His friend nodded spasmodically. "Read it! I'm not the one who got the last one."

First, Remus took precautions. "You were the Auror. Check it out for hexes, will you? I, I need a glass of water."

"It's got a scent-masking charm. Or is that a potion?" Sirius called as Remus paced slowly to the kitchen. He was reluctant to find out what was going on, reluctant to read about even more danger that might be coming to them. The mystery of the first Runic letter had never been solved, though Remus had kept an eye open over the years. He had also kept an ear open for the name Hermione J. Granger.

But no identity had he had about the first writer. No Muggle-borns who used Biro pens had crossed his path. He'd looked about when they had traveled as well, but to no avail.

He charmed the water to be cool before pouring it down his throat in near-desperation. What the bloody hell was wrong, now?

"All right. So far," Sirius called, his voice drawing nearer, "I've got that whoever wrote this likes your name. And they've said thanks and that we need to talk to Dumbledore about something dark." His best mate's face was pale when he reached the kitchen table. "Moony. I bet this is about his scar," he said, his voice rasping and his eyes wide. "This, this person knows about it. And they aren't telling us anything."

Remus took the proffered parchment.

Remus,

Thank you for heeding my letter of four years ago.

I have been glad indeed to know that Pettigrew was sent to Azkaban. I have been gladder still that the Grim's pup has been happy and healthy. I hope you are preparing him to be a mighty warrior for the Light against the Dark.

To do this, Remus, seek the Headmaster. He knows what you need to know about the Dark that the pup carries with him.

The pup is safe and happy. He is well guarded. He will be a fine warrior if he is well armed.

With much respect,

"It's signed with the hourglass again, Pads," Remus murmured, staring hard at the Runes written with such fine lines. "But not on the Muggle paper. I—" He eyed Sirius, who was appearing panicked. "He's fine, Pads. Harry's fine. I don't know how this person knows, but they do."

"But something Dark? Something he carries?"

"When, when I found him . . . ?" The men never liked to refer to that devastating Hallowe'en in 1981, so they generally referred to it with the silent expedient of facial expressions. "His scar was hot, Pads. Like an infection. And it reeked of Dark Magic."

Sirius nearly collapsed against the gleaming wooden breakfast table before he slid to sit on one of the chairs. "Why didn't you say something to me? I'm his father, you bloody bastard!"

Long used to Sirius and his explosions, Remus hitched himself up to perch on the table, looking down into his friend's stormy gaze. "That's a reflection on my parents—and inaccurate, by the way." He waited until Sirius snorted before continuing. "Things were a bit rough that night, if you remember. My first concern was getting Harry to you and then getting him tucked away safely. We did that. By the time I'd . . . sorted matters elsewhere, I'd forgotten about the heat and all. I was just glad to see it wasn't bleeding."

"And now, it's just a dark pink that never heals . . ."

As if Sirius were a wee lad himself, Remus ruffled his hair. Which irked his friend so that he finger-combed it to fall in regular waves to his shoulders again. Huffing the whole while.

"It never seems to heal, no. Dumbledore might be glad to see him, you know."

"Maybe."

"Are we sending him to Hogwarts?"

Sirius scowled. "Not for years, Moony. I want him with us."

"But if Dumbledore could help him. Help him to be a warrior for the Light?"

"Why the bloody hell should he have to train to be a warrior? He's only five years old, Moony! And the great dark bastard is gone."

Remus shifted to sit in a chair so that he was more eye-to-eye with Sirius. "Is he? Did you see a body? It was hell on us, but we saw James's and Lily's. But there wasn't any body, Sirius. What if . . . what if he's not gone?" It was something that had lingered to annoy him, off and on, over the years. But since so much of their life was peaceful and happy, Remus hadn't dwelt on it.

Perhaps that had been a mistake?

. . . .

"Go early. Make an excuse so you can look around." Sirius was pacing in front of the fireplace. "I'm serious, Moony." He made a shooing motion with both hands before pointing at the door.

"You're always serious, Sirius," Remus reminded him with a determinedly casual smile. Someone had to be the calm one today and it wasn't going to be Harry Potter's adoptive father. "I'm going, I'm going. Sure you don't to come along, Padfoot?"

"Harry'd give it away. No. But maybe another time. Hey! I could maybe spy on the teacher, what's her name? Dagworth!"

"Are you bored or something, Pads? Do we need to find you a hobby? What about knitting? You could go to Molly Weasley's and learn."

Sirius made a rude noise before shooing him out again. "Go!"

"Behave," Remus advised on his way out the door.

That he saw an ominous black Grim a little ways behind him all the way back to Pwllheli's Magical Day School did not surprise him a bit.

At the school, shortly before three o'clock, Remus waited at the gate, both gratified that he wasn't allowed instant access—that spoke well for the security of the place—and annoyed because he had to wait. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Padfoot sniff at the boundary fence before heading off to smell the scents and look for trouble all the way around. At length, he saw Harry wave through one of the windows on the second floor of the cottage and he waved back. This got the attention of a teacher, a young woman with bright red hair that reminded him fleetingly of Lily Potter. He held down the flare of pain and instead brought out his best company manners.

"Hello, I'm Harry Potter's Uncle Remus."

The woman smiled, showing a gap in her front teeth. "Remus Lupin, yes. I'm Dilys ap Roberts. I teach language skills and comportment, here." She moved back to allow Remus entrance to the yard just as a sharp slice of wind made them both shiver. "Your nephew will be ready to go home shortly. Why don't you wait in the foyer?" Opening the door—also warded and painted in innocent-but-effective Runes—Dilys ap Roberts ushered him out of the wind. "I'll let Jean know you're here."

The redhead left Remus, who stood about quietly, knowing they'd have him monitored in some way. He opened his senses to parse what might be hidden in the area. Sometimes, his nose was smarter than his eyes were.

But this time, it wasn't his nose; it was his ears that brought new information to him. A strange, smooth pressure that was looping over and around on wood. As if it were a wand making etchings on a flat surface.

Followed by a small, almost inaudible Click.

It was an anomaly and Remus—a man who enjoyed Ancient Runes for their mysteries—did enjoy anomalies. He took an oh-so-casual step out of the foyer into the perpendicular hall, and was able to see Jean Dagworth's office. She was there.

She was tucking a pen into a pocket of her studious, professorial robes.

A pen. A mechanical, Muggle Biro.

His heart jumped and slammed in his chest and he could feel his eyes turn to the amber of his inner Moony. It was as if he were in the midst of a change, but without the pain. All the awareness, all his senses, all his focus was on the woman's pocket. He didn't think of proprieties or anything, he just moved. Striding rapidly through the open door into the office without an invitation, he was all set to take the woman by the hand to keep her next to him whilst he interrogated her.

But he hit an invisible wall and was rendered immobile. She'd cast silently.

Of course.

Mastery in Defense, idiot, he reminded himself. "Miss Dagworth," he said, for she'd left him that option, which was good of her, to be sure. He expected her anger, perhaps even fear, for he towered over her, but that wasn't what he saw at all.

"Mister Lupin. What can I do for you?" Trepidation lit her chocolate brown eyes and she briefly worried her lip. "Your nephew isn't quite finished with his day, yet."

"I'm aware. I'm sorry if I frightened you," he began.

She cut him off with a pass of her hand that effectively allowed him to move again. "No. I, er, was just wondering what brought you so violently into my office?"

He glanced down at her pocket and cocked one brow at her. She paled and her mouth dropped open. "Accio Biro," she whispered, confirming his suspicions as it landed in her waiting hand. "You know, then?"

Remus adopted Sirius's best arrogant air and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He hadn't known, no, but now he felt he might. "You're Muggle-born, right?" She blinked and he heard her heart speed so he had the answer there. "And you used Muggle paper the first time."

"I tried—I tried to make sure you'd heed me. So I used something different. Something you'd recognize." She darted a quick glance past his shoulder but Remus didn't follow it; he kept his eyes on her and wondered if she could be trusted. "You probably have a lot of questions."

"Understatement of the decade, I daresay," Remus returned, making it sound as if he didn't want to lock her in a room until she told him everything. "But most important, I need to know that you can be trusted with Harry."

At that, Jean Dagworth choked on what seemed to be a laugh even while tears sprang to her eyes, enough so that he could smell the salt before she wiped them away. "Have you seen my wards? Of course you have. You were eyeing them this morning. Remus, Mister Lupin, everything you see here, it's all for him. For Harry. All of it." She smiled and spread her empty hand in a gesture that conveyed helplessness. We need to talk."

"We do."

A/N: Pwllheli - pronounced "poosh HELL ee" or "pootch ELL ee". I think. A real place, honest. :)