Chapter 6
What Once Was Lost

Remus sighed as he sank into the soft armchair by the fire in his private quarters. He mulled over the possibility of going home for the holiday, but he fast dismissed it. What was there waiting for him there? At least if he stayed at Hogwarts he would have the company of a few staff members and the remaining students for Christmas luncheon.

And so it was with this assessment that he settled himself down further into the cushions and closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the fire wash over him. A book sat closed on his lap, patiently waiting until he was ready for it, but until then, Remus was content to merely sit and let his mind go blank, revelling in the silence that accompanied the absence of hundreds of boisterous students.

The stillness lay on that strange cusp between peaceful and lonely. That grey area where the mind isn't sure whether it should be appreciative or depressed. But Remus did not mind loneliness the way most seemed to. He supposed he was used to it, having grown up as an outcast from a young age. It was his natural state; he could be surrounded by a throng of people and yet still be the loneliest man alive. There had been a time in his life when this curse had been lifted, a time when he had felt as though he belonged; for a few short years, everything had been right. But that had been snatched from him too and left him worse off than when he had started, pining for the loss of something he would never see again.

But he would not think of this now. Now he would bask in the peace and quiet. Focus on regaining his strength after the most recent full moon. He was grateful that the December full moon had been earlier in the month. The previous year it had fallen on Christmas; at least this year he would be well enough to enjoy the festivities, most in particular the heavenly food the house elves were sure to prepare. He sat in his chair, reminiscing about past Christmases.

He was not sure if his jumbled thoughts had actually drifted into real dreams by the time his mind was abruptly interrupted by a loud knock. His fogged brain struggled to devise a way to integrate the unexplained knock into the memory of a Christmas party his mother had thrown when he was eight years old, but it failed when another knock sounded around the room. Remus sat up and looked around confusedly. A third knock brought his attention to the door leading out to the rest of the castle.

Rubbing his eyes to clear them, he stumbled to his feet, the book on his lap falling to the floor where he promptly tripped over it. He steadied himself on the mantel before staggering to the door and opening it.

"So sorry to disturb you, my dear boy." Dumbledore's voice rang in Remus's fuzzy head. He wondered vaguely when Dumbledore would stop calling him a boy. At thirty four years of age, he felt a transition was overdue. "I know you must be catching up on some rest now the students are gone, and heaven knows you had a rough time three nights ago. And grading end of term exams right afterwards. You must be exhausted."

It took Remus a moment to realise Dumbledore had stopped talking and was clearly waiting for a reply. "Yes, I mean no. That is to say...won't you come in, Headmaster?"

"Thank you, yes," said Dumbledore, striding in and holding his hands out to be warmed by the fire.

"Do sit down. Can I get you a cup of tea?"

"I would appreciate some cocoa if you have it?" He said it as a question.

Remus glanced over at the rusty tin that held tea bags and the equally rusty tea kettle beside it. "Er, no. I'm afraid I don't."

"Never mind, my boy. Never mind. Now Remus, come and sit down beside me here. There is something most particular I must discuss with you, and I'm afraid time is a matter of some importance."

Remus eyed the headmaster warily. Through years of acquaintance, Remus had come to possess the ability to read Dumbledore better than some, and Remus could detect an unusual excitement in the old man's address. Whether that excitement was of the new-flavour-of-Sherbet-Lemons variety, or the someone-is-trying-to-destroy-the-world variety, Remus could not determine.

"Remus, I do not believe there is a particularly tactful way of putting this, so I think I'm just going to have to dive right in. It's about Harry."

Just as Remus had gotten the ignition running in his sleep-fogged brain, it stalled again. "Harry? Harry who?" It was a stupid question. There was only one Harry in the universe that Remus cared about. Only one Dumbledore would be talking to him about. Remus knew this, but his brain seemed to be trying to protect itself. Not letting him get his hopes up over something that could never be.

Dumbledore seemed to agree that it was a stupid question, seemed to know that Remus knew very well who he was talking about, because he did not bother to answer Remus's query. "Remus. We've found him. He's alive."

He paused here, undoubtedly trying to give Remus a chance to take this in and digest it. But how could he possibly digest this? So many questions were bubbling to the surface; he didn't know how to reply. He just sat there in shocked silence. A ringing was filling his ears, fog clouding his eyes. He couldn't think, couldn't move.

Dumbledore's voice was floating across the void toward him. "Kingsley Shacklebolt seems to have stumbled across him in Muggle London. He contacted me this morning to tell me that the Ministry had him in custody."

"I...don't understand," Remus finally managed to spit out quite unnecessarily.

Dumbledore regarded him with pity in his blue gaze. "I know this can't be easy for you to grasp. After all these years. Never knowing what happened. Here, let me catch you up on everything I know, which I must confess is not much."

Remus listened in a daze as Dumbledore recounted his meeting with the boy, as well as what he learned from the Ministry officials, both spoken and inferred.

"But, if he denies that he is indeed Harry, how can you be so sure it's him?"

Dumbledore smiled humourlessly. "I'm sure you will understand when you see him," was all he said.

"'When I see him,'" Remus repeated quietly. "When will that be," he asked, hopelessness in his voice. The Ministry was hardly about to let a werewolf near the newly re-found Boy Who Lived any time soon.

"Well, my dear boy, I was rather hoping you'd come with me to talk to him now. If you're up to it, that is."

As if I would pass up the opportunity even if I weren't up to it, Rumus thought, well aware that Dumbledore knew Remus would never be able to refuse. By way of an answer, Remus got to his feet and moved to the door. When he got there, he stared expectantly at Dumbledore. Dumbledore gave one of his patented twinkle-eyed smiles and moved to follow him.

As he stepped through the door that Remus held open for him, Dumbledore stopped and looked at his friend and colleague thoughtfully. "Remus, do you have any old photographs? Of Lily and James? And Harry as an infant?"

"Yes, I have a photo album on the bookshelf." Remus replied slowly. "Why?"

"I think, perhaps, you would do well to take it along. It may come in useful."


Dumbledore strolled through the Ministry in the direction of the Auror Office as though he were a new mother pushing a perambulator through the park. His calm and collected manner was starting to grate on Rumus's nerves. Can't we hurry it up already, he growled internally. Harry's here. In this building. He must be so scared and confused, sitting in some interrogation room, surrounded by strangers in a world he doesn't understand.

A growl too low to hear really did escape his chest as Dumbledore stopped to exchange pleasantries with a smiling wizened witch. No one cares how her sister's rheumatism is, you old fool. Harry is waiting. He's all alone.When they started walking again, Dumbledore gave Remus a twinkling smile that said only too well that he knew exactly what Remus had been thinking.

When they finally reached the oak doors on the Auror Office, Dumbledore allowed Remus to enter first before following him in.

"This way," Dumbledore said, leading Remus past a row of cubicles all containing Aurors who were craning their necks to watch them curiously. They came to a series of doors along the far wall, and Dumbledore opened one and strode inside.

"Him, Dumbledore? You can't be serious!" The voice of Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, accosted Remus the moment he stepped inside the dimly lit room. Remus didn't even spare him a glance. His eyes were immediately drawn to the far end of the room where a table and chairs were set up under blindingly bight light. Where a teen-aged boy sat dejectedly, arms crossed on the table, chin resting on clenched fists.

And Remus felt his heart break.

Fudge was expressing a string of objections to Remus's presence, but Remus didn't bother to listen; it was nothing he hadn't heard before. His eyes were glued on Harry, drinking in the sight of him. He had thought he had prepared himself for this moment, but he could never have predicted the barrage of feelings threatening to drown him. Joy, sorrow, hope, gratitude, but mostly a bitter self-loathing. All these years. All these years he was out there, God knows where, alone, and I did nothing. I abandoned the search—abandoned him—to some unknown fate.

"Cornelius, consider," Dumbledore was saying. "You have been unable to get through to him with any of your other tactics, but there is one thing he has inadvertently admitted to; that is his relationship with his parents. In taking his father's name, he has shown himself to feel a strong connection to them. That is sacred ground to him. And who else has a stronger tie to Lily and James that their best friend. If anyone is going to be able to reach him, it is Remus."

Cornelius was spluttering to find another argument, but Dumbledore ignored him and walked over to stand next to Remus who was still staring transfixed at Harry. Fudge began muttering with Scrimgeour behind them, but Remus paid them no mind.

Staring at the boy, Remus could see what Dumbledore had meant when he had said that Remus would understand why they were certain it was Harry. The resemblance to James was uncanny, though Remus thought he saw something of Lily in his expression as well. And there, on his forehead, standing out against the pale skin, was a thin, lightning-shaped scar.

"What do you mean 'taking his father's name'?" Remus asked, his voice flat and emotionless, not looking at Dumbledore.

"He has been going by the name of Liam Jameson," Dumbledore answered. He was watching Harry as well, a fond look upon his aged face.

"Jameson," Remus repeated, more to himself. A sad smile graced his lips as he said it.

There was silence for a moment before Remus said resolutely, "I have to talk to him."

"Of course, my dear fellow," Dumbledore said at the same moment that Fudge declared, "Absolutely not!"

But Remus was beyond caring what anyone else said or did. And thus it was that he, brooking no refusal, walked determinedly through the magical wall, leaving Dumbledore to handle Fudge.

Harry's head jerked up as Remus entered the room. He let out a sigh of resigned aggravation. "No matter how many people are sent in here to interrogate me, it's not going to change the fact that I have no clue in hell what any of you are talking about," the boy ground out. His voice was so much like James's it made Remus pause. The accent was slightly different, however. More clipped. It bespoke of a highly different upbringing.

"I'm not here to interrogate you, Liam," Remus said quietly, pulling out the chair opposite the boy and sitting down.

Harry started at the use of the name. He eyed Remus, mulling it over. "Who are you?" he finally asked cautiously.

It was something. He had shown some interest in something other than escape, at least. Remus thought over his question, trying to come up with an answer that was both truthful and that the boy would want to hear. "I'm...no one," he finally decided.

Harry thought about this, tilting his head in a way that reminded Remus forcibly of Lily. Finally he nodded once in what Remus could only interpret as approval. There was silence in the room. Remus thought about where to go from there. This had all been uncharacteristically impulsive of him; he really had no plan in mind for how to approach this conversation.

"I'm sorry," he said at last. "Clearly there has been a mistake." The boy perked up, hopeful that they were about to let him go. "I do want you to realise that, given the circumstances, the confusion was understandable. You do look uncannily like our Harry. And I think the error was fuelled by a hope that we had found him at last."

He did not look at the boy as he said this, but instead reached into the inner pocket of his cloak to pull out the photo album Dumbledore had asked him to bring. He sensed a stillness fall over the child across from him as he listened to what Remus said. Retrieving the book, Remus laid it gently on the table, carefully positioning it such that the boy would easily be able to see its contents but that it did not appear as though Remus was manipulating him. Which of course I am, Remus thought wryly to himself. He hoped, one day, the child could forgive him for this. He hoped he could forgive himself.

He tenderly, reverently, flipped open the cover and stared down at a picture of Lily and James taken their seventh year under a beech tree by the lake at Hogwarts. He continued talking haltingly, still not looking at Harry, but sure the boy's eyes were fixed to the photograph. "You see, this boy, Harry, he was very important to us and we...I...loved him. Very much." He flipped the page to show a picture of the Marauders in the Gryffindor common room.

"His parents were some of the best friends I ever had. We all went to school together, and his father and I were very close." Flip. James and Sirius in their Quidditch robes, broomsticks over their shoulders. Flip. Lily and James's wedding day. Flip. James kissing Lily under the mistletoe on their first Christmas together. Flip.Lily holding her newborn son, gazing down at him with such love as the world had never seen, tears of happiness brimming in the eyes that were so like her son's. Remus paused on this picture. As he looked down at it, he felt a tear trying desperately to escape from his own eye. He heard a rustle as Harry shifted.

Remus glanced up at Harry. The boy's eyes were glued to the photo of his infant-self and his mother. He looked haunted; his teeth were clenched, his eyes wide and tortured. Remus flipped the page again, his eyes still locked on the boy across from him. So many times had he gone through this album, he did not need to look to see which picture was next. It would be one of his favourites: Lily standing with Harry in her arms, smiling happily at the camera, James with one arm around his wife's shoulders, the other hand resting on the baby's tiny form, a look of sheer pride on his face.

Remus did not take his eyes off of Harry as he said, "Even then, you could tell Harry was going to look just like his father."

After a moment's silence, "What happened to him? This...Harry kid?" Harry asked, hypnotised by the photograph of the happy family.

Remus felt his heart leap with hope. Harry was actually engaging with him. Listening to him. "His parents were murdered when he was barely a year old. He was sent to live with his aunt and uncle until a few years ago when he simply disappeared. No one knows what happened to him. We searched, of course...but there was no sign of him."

A brief spark of emotion quickly stifled occurred behind the green eyes at the word 'murdered.' "And what would you do with him...hypothetically...if you found him?" he asked after another pause. His eyes finally drifted up to meet Remus's.

"Do?" asked Remus, a small smile appearing on his lips. "Well, I'd give him a hug. Tell him how much I'd missed him. How loved he is."

"But he's a human being," Harry interrupted. "You can't just pick him up off the street and turn him into some kind of pet. What about his life? Where would he live?"

"I..." Remus realised he did not actually know the answer to this. Dumbledore would surely want Harry to come to Hogwarts for school, but over the holidays...? "I'm sure his aunt and uncle have been very concerned about him and would be eager to have him home agai—"

"NO!"

The cry was so forceful it rang around the room and Remus froze staring at Harry alarmed as the boy began to talk very fast in short clipped sentences, seeming utterly panicked by the prospect of returning to his former home.

"You can't make me go back there. I won't go. I won't! You can't keep me. You have no right! You can't just take away my life. My home. My friends."

It seemed the game was up. Neither of them was pretending anymore.

"Harry." Remus said the name softly, gently and he reached out a hand to reassuringly still the boy's gesticulating arms and quieten the fears rushing from his lips. At the contact of Remus's hand with his own, Harry withdrew his hand sharply and cradled it to his chest. The two sat silent for a moment, staring into each other's eyes; Harry's looked panicked, Remus's concerned.

"It's alright, Harry. You don't have to see them. We'll figure something out." Remus felt a surge of foreboding at Harry's reaction, but he pushed it down for the time being. Let's tackle one thing at a time."For now," Remus continued, "I'm sure we'll want to get a start on your magical education. You can come to Hogwarts where we'll—"

"What if I don't want a magical education," Harry interrupted. "No one seems to care what I want! No one is asking me! All I want to do is go back to my flat, my job, my life! You try to take me to this bloody school, I'll just run away."

A furrow had appeared between Remus's brows as he considered a compromise. His eyes slid to the wall behind him where he knew Dumbledore and the Ministry officials would be standing. Oh, Fudge is going to kill me for this. He took a deep breath and let it out before making his proposition. "One year." He said it firmly, looking the boy right in the eye. "You stay with us for one year. Study hard, learn everything you can. If after one year, you still want to leave...no one will stop you." Remus imagined he heard an irate bellow coming from the wall behind him.

Harry stared at him, eyes narrowed, for what felt like hours rather than seconds. "A month," he finally said.

Remus shook his head. "We can't teach you all that you need to know in a month."

"Fine. Three."

"Six. Six months. That will bring us to the end of the term. You'll have time to learn how to control your magic, and you can be introduced to all of the classes you'd be taking.

Again there was silence as Harry considered this. Finally, he gave a single nod and sat back in his chair.

Remus internally let out a sigh of relief. "Alright. Stay here. I'll go see what I can do to arrange your release." He stood and made his way to the magical wall, stealing himself for the battle he was sure he was about to walk into.

Sure enough, upon stepping through the wall, Remus was immediately accosted by Fudge's furious roars. Dumbledore, however, was regarding Remus with what seemed to be pride.

"Well, Cornelius, it seems we will be taking Harry back to Hogwarts, then," Dumbledore was saying cheerfully. Fudge continued to shout incomprehensibly to the room at large.

Dumbledore moved over to speak to Remus privately. "Well done, my boy. Very well done, indeed."

"Headmaster," Remus said looking Dumbledore straight in the eye with some urgency. "I need to know that you are going to do everything in your power to ensure that my word to that boy is kept. If he wants to leave..." he trailed off.

Dumbledore eyed Remus, contemplating him unreadably. "We'll just have to do everything we can to make sure it doesn't come to that." And with that answer which wasn't an answer at all he continued, "Now, I'm sure Harry is very eager to be gone from here."

"It's going to be a hard adjustment for him. He's lived on his own for so long, I just don't know how he'll do with the crowds and the fast pace of Hogwarts."

"Which is precisely why I think he should spend the next week or two with you at your home," replied Dumbledore, matter-of-factly, watching the boy on the other side of the wall closely. "It will give him a little time to adjust to the idea of magic and you can train him in the basics, take him to buy his supplies, help him build some trust..."

"But—"

"He trusts you more than anyone else, so far," said Dumbledore reasonably. "We should take advantage of that."

"Headmaster," Remus cut him off. "It's not that I don't want him there. Quite the contrary. It's just..." he lowered his voice so that Fudge who was now barking out orders to Scrimgeour and Shacklebolt on the far side of the room, "surely the Ministry would never allow this. I'm a werewolf!"

"That, my dear fellow," Dumbledore responded, eyes twinkling, "is why we are not going to tell them."


Thin streaks of snow clung to each branch and twig of the tree-lined lane on which they stood. Here and there, clumps of colourless vegetation had succeeded in breaking free of the icy prison, seeking desperately the warmth of the winter sun. The salty smell of the sea clung to the breeze that ruffled Harry's already messy hair. Before them, atop a hill of the Sussex Downs, stood a small, two-story cottage. The walls were of flat grey stones; the roof of red shingles; white-washed shutters framed the windows; frost-coated ivy climbed the wall. It was—there was no other word for it—charming. And Harry was determined to hate it.

Remus trotted up the path leading to the house and paused, realising Harry was no longer with him. He looked back at Harry, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Harry sighed and followed him. Remus held the inviting, red door open for him, and he stepped into the cramp entrance hall and looked around.

To his left, Harry could see a neat and comfortable looking sitting room through an open door. Down a small hallway there was another door, this one closed. To the right, squashed against the wall was a narrow staircase leading to a small landing, off of which were three more doors. On the wall at its base, hanging on a row of hooks, were a couple of those strange cape-things all these nutters wore. Beneath them was an old pair of boots, coated in crusted mud and looking forgotten. Something about the house seemed abandoned. As if no one had lived here in sometime.

"Sitting room," Remus said unnecessarily, nodding his head in the direction of the open room. "Kitchen is through there," he pointed to the second door. "Help yourself to anything you can find anytime you get hungry." He paused as though wanting Harry to say something. He didn't. "I'll, er...show you where you'll be sleeping." He marched up the staircase, Harry dragging his feet behind slowly. He trailed his hand along the smooth wooden railing, his mind occupying itself with insignificant detail rather than any of the million changes that had taken place in his life that day.

Once reaching the top of the stairs, "That's my room," Remus gestured to a closed door behind them and to the left on the landing, facing out from the front of the house. "Feel free to come get me there if you need anything." Remus paused. Harry said nothing. Remus sighed. "Bathroom," Remus continued as they passed the second door. "And this is where we'll put you." Remus opened the last door at the end of the hallway at the back of the house.

"It's not large," said Remus as Harry stepped into the room. It was true. A small bed, a desk, and a bookshelf were crammed in tightly. Harry walked slowly over the bookshelf and ran his fingers along the spines of the books. Based on their titles and the personal effects scattered about the room, Harry got the idea that a teenage boy had lived here before, but not for some time. "It was my room when I was a child," Remus said, as though he had read Harry's mind. His tone was almost apologetic. On the floor along the wall were piled several boxes. Remus noticed these abruptly and flushed. "I've been using this room for storage of late...No one has lived here for years. I'll get them all cleared out first thing tomorrow," he said nervously. He paused. Harry said nothing.

Harry slowly walked around the bed to stand at the window. Below, a neat rock wall surrounded a small garden. From the vantage of the hill, Harry could see out across acres of the Downs. It was an odd place, Sussex. Not like London at all. A patchwork of farmland and pasture stretched out to the East. The sun was setting over deciduous forests to the west. And straight out to the South, just below the horizon, were the chalky white cliffs disappearing into the sea. It was all so incongruous. It was all so lonely.

After a moment of awkward silence, Remus said haltingly, "I'll er...leave you to get settled in, and I'll go...find us something to eat. Why don't you come down to the kitchen in twenty minutes?" He said it as a question and waited for a response. Harry said nothing. "Alright, then." And he left, closing the door behind him. Harry did not look round.

Harry stood at the window, contemplating the view. He had never before seen the sea. He had always wanted to, but this was hardly how he would have hoped for it to happen. After some length, he turned away from the window to consider the room. He crossed over to the tiny bed in one step and seated himself on it gently. He looked down at the patchwork quilt lying atop. It was painstakingly hand-stitched of blues and pale yellows; the sort of thing a mother would make for her child, each thread made of love. For some reason he could not explain, the photograph of his mother holding him as an infant came into his mind. So many emotions were running through his head he could not sort them out. At that moment, he didn't want to try.

He raised his eyes slowly, looking back out the window. From this angle, seated on the edge of the bed, all he could see were the pink-touched, high in the sky. The last dregs of rosy light shined in through the window. Harry closed his eyes and let his head lull back. He took in a deep slow breath and after a moment holding it, let it out.


Remus cursed in frustration as he dug through the pantry, frantically trying to find something even remotely suitable to feed a teenage boy. He finally settled on combining the dregs of several boxes of different kinds of pasta and a dusty can of marinara that he preferred not to question how long it had been there.

He tapped his wand on a large pot to clean out several months' worth of dust before filling it with water and tapping it again to bring it to a boil. As the pasta cooked, he ran a hand through his greying hair and sank into a chair at the kitchen table with a sigh. He could not believe all that had happened that day. Harry's silence concerned him; he didn't know what to do to get him to open up. He sighed again. Time, he decided. There's nothing else for it. He'll get to know you, and eventually, things will be as they should. Just give him time.

But that was easier said than done. Forty minutes had passed, and Harry had not come down. Remus sat at the table waiting, the pasta in front of him going cold. He battled with himself on whether to go retrieve him or to leave him to his privacy. After five more minutes, he finally stood, the chair screeching against the tile floor. He walked up the stairs and knocked softly on the bedroom door. There was no answer. Remus wasn't particularly surprised by this, but he found himself concerned nonetheless. He knocked again. Nothing.

Pushing the door open hesitantly, he pocked his head around the door. The concerned look on his face was transformed into a soft, sad smile. It seemed that the stress of the day had caught up with Harry. The boy was lying on top of the covers, still wearing his shoes and glasses, fast asleep.

Remus crossed to the bed. As gently as he could, he removed the boy's shoes, slid the glasses from his nose, and pulled a blanket from the foot of the bed to tuck around him. Suppressing the urge to push the fringe out of Harry's eyes, Remus retreated back to the door. He paused there to look back at the sleeping child. A crease appeared between his brows as he seemed to debate with himself. After a moment of hesitation, he drew his wand and waved it over the room. With one last glance at the child he had longed to see for so long, he closed the door softly, and retreated to clean up the kitchen.


A/N: D'ack! I'm a terrible person! Two months without an update! Unforgivable. All I can say in my defence is, my God, vet school interviews are stressful! I've scarcely slept two nights running in the same city for the past month. So. Most of this chapter was written little bits at a time in a wide variety of airports all over the world. Seven different cities in four different countries, I believe. So...yeah...sorry again. And as always, thanks very much to all those who reviewed, and a special thanks to all those who I have noticed have gone on to follow my other story as well...yes, I know I said I would update Knowing first, but I just wasn't feeling it. Personally, quality is more important to me that speed or quantity, so I think it's best not to force it. I'll finish it eventually. I've already written the last two chapters, so it'd be a waste if I didn't. Anyway, many apologies and many thanks, once again!