Over a hundred reviews! You guys are amazing! :)

sbmcneil: I'm afraid I disagree with you on the matter of Sirius (and I do apologize for the lengthy ramble that will now follow)

First, him being top of his class doesn't mean he knows how to cook – I study physics, and I've met a lot of very smart people who struggle to cook pasta, or take a huge bag of dirty laundry with them whenever they visit their parents. If higher maths doesn't help you with the practical aspects of life, I don't see how Transfiguration would. Sirius was brought up in a house with a house elf, and later at Hogwarts there were house-elves as well. We don't know if the Potters had one, but we do know that James was very spoiled, so he probably didn't have to help much at home either. Then, when Sirius did live on his own, there was a war on, and I don't think household lessons were top priority at that time. So to me, it looks plausible that Sirius might not be a second Mrs Weasley.

Second, while Remus is portrayed as being very good with children, nothing we read in the books makes Sirius out as a particularly good potential parent – on the contrary; Rowling actually said that he was Harry what he needed in that department, and was instead treating him like a grown-up. Additionally, Sirius has only just gotten out of Azkaban, which won't have helped his mental state. He will learn how to be a good parent to Harry in this story, but it seems very unlikely to me that he would be one right from the start. Right now, he's using his juvenile act partly as a way to make Harry more comfortable, and also as a sanctuary for himself so that he doesn't have to deal with the darker thoughts. So he might be acting more "stupid" than he actually is. (Most of this will be at least partially addressed in later chapters.)

That all being said, everybody is of course entitled to their own opinions, and I do acknowledge that I might have exaggerated a bit in an attempt at humour. If my characterization has put you off this story, then I am sorry. :)

Alix33: Sorry to hear about it, but glad you got over your fear :) He might have – given she was muggle born, it might even have been her book. I don't think it's Dumbledore who convinced everyone that Sirius was a murderer, it was pretty much the general consent. And Remus believed it too, didn't he? Also, as always thanks for finding all my mistakes :)

The Curious Case of the Shuffling Noise

"I can't believe you're making him do homework. His school is at home! Everything he does is homework already!"

"It's important for the learning development. And it's character-building."

"I never did mine, and people still say I have character."

"Padfoot." Remus eyes looked up from behind his newspaper as he glared at Sirius with a pointed look.

The animagus flinched. "Alright," he growled, before turning to Harry, who had been following the exchange like the spectator of a tennis match, while milk dropped from the spoon of his forgotten muesli. "It is, of course, not alright to not do your homework," he said in a stern voice, looking uncharacteristically sober.

Harry, who had had no intention of not doing his homework – he had, after all, just asked for help with it – nodded quickly, and his godfather continued with a bright smile. "And of course I'll be happy to help you. What's on the agenda?"

"Maths," Harry said, his eyes flickering to Remus. As much as he loved having him as his teacher, it felt odd talking about his homework with him at the table. But the other man had already vanished behind his newspaper once more and seemed completely oblivious to their conversation. "I already did the writing task last night. And I need to find out something about Greek myths."

"Maths?" Sirius repeated less than enthusiastically, throwing a distinctly loathing look towards the paper. Harry could have sworn he saw a twinkle flashing across Remus' eyes. His godfather sighed. "Okay, we'll get right to it. Just let me finish my breakfast, alright Prongslet?"

Harry nodded and turned back to his muesli, which had gone rather soggy. He wished Sirius would eat faster.

It had been a week since Remus had gone away for the night, and five days since "school" had started. At first, Harry hadn't been particularly enamoured with the idea of having to attend lessons, especially since Remus insisted on doing them in the morning.

It wasn't that Harry hadn't like learning – he might not gotten the best grades, but he had always been one of the better students (better than Dudley, in any way). But that was where the problems had started – His cousin wasn't exactly kind to him on the best of days, and there were few things Dudley had hated more than being bested by "the freak". And, being popular all around, he had quickly seen to it that every other boy also disliked Harry.

Most of his breaks had been spent running or hiding from one or the other bully, or trying clean his clothes and hide the holes when he had failed. Because having a teacher find out was almost worse than the bullying itself, as it entailed letters to the Dursleys – who of course saw it as Harry's fault and locked him into the cupboard.

Due to all this, Harry had a well-developed aversion to anything school-related, and the prospects of lessons with Remus had filled him with dread, as he was now ashamed to admit.

Because, as it turned out, Remus was the best teacher ever.

He was friendly and patient and funny, and he could make anything feel exciting. There were of course no other children that could've bullied Harry, but if there had been, he was certain Remus would never have accepted such behaviour, or even belligerently tolerated it as the teachers at his old school had.

It was amazing how much Remus knew. His teacher at St Edmund's had been smart as well, of course, but Harry would bet his stuffed stag that Remus would beat her any time. He was the smartest man Harry had ever met – with the exception maybe for Sirius, who seemed pretty smart as well.

And his lessons were much more interesting. As it was only Harry, there was no need to wait around for slower students, or monitor thirty different works. Even maths was easy when it was explained to him with the help of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans – which he was allowed to eat once the lesson was over. And additionally, Remus often took time to spin a little story out of the tasks he was giving him – not the boring, one-sentence constructs that they had gotten at St Edmund's, but proper ones that made you actually care about solving them.

Their lessons didn't last too long - usually they started after breakfast, around nine, and stopped about hour or so before lunch – but Harry still had to do homework after.

At first he had reacted exactly as Sirius had, albeit silently, because why would he need homework when he was already learning at home? And it had seemed even stranger when Remus had refused to help him, and told him to instead ask Sirius.

But after doing them on his own for the past week, Harry slowly came to the conclusion that while sometimes annoying – last night he had been able to hear Sirius and Remus laughing in the kitchen while he had been writing his story – they were actually quite decent. They never took too long, and it felt nice to accomplish something on his own. Even more so when he would show them to Remus the next day, and see the proud smile on his face.

Today was Saturday, however, and while he had of course (much to Harry's relief) paused lessons for the weekend, Remus had given him extra tasks, and more difficult ones at that, which was why he had chosen to finally enlist his godfather's help.

Unfortunately, his godfather was a very late riser and an even longer breakfast-er.

"What's that you're reading?" Sirius asked now, snatching up a discarded piece of Remus' newspaper on his way to get more toast. "That's not the Prophet. It's not even wizard, the pictures aren't moving!"

Remus face appeared from behind his paper once more. "Well spotted," he said dryly. "Scotland Yard would be proud to have you, Lestrade." When Sirius only offered him a puzzled frown, he sighed and put down his paper. "Why shouldn't I read a muggle paper? I've got to read something, and I can hardly wander into Diagon Alley on a daily basis."

His eyes flickered towards Harry, who quickly acted like he was engrossed in the slimy paste that now inhabited his bowl. They hadn't spoken about leaving the house again since last week, and even though Harry's nightmares had almost stopped – and crawling into bed with Sirius if he had been woken up by it quickly vanished their terror – he was still not quite comfortable with Sirius or Remus leaving. He knew, of course, that Remus frequently left to buy groceries, but Harry was grateful that he did so whenever Harry was occupied, and always returned before Harry had known he was gone.

"This is actually better than the Prophet," Remus said quickly as if to change the topic, pointing towards his muggle paper. "It's filled with actual journalism instead of prejudice and fear-mongering."

"It's also filled with boring muggle politics," Sirius pointed out, unenthusiastically flicking through the pages he had stolen. "Who in Merlin's name is Margaret Thatcher? And what does it mean she's calling an election? Can I call one, too?" He turned another page, and his face immediately brightened. "Look at this! 'Dog saves Torquay from relegation' I don't know what Torquay or relegation are, but it sounds like one awesome dog!"

Remus sighed again, snatching the paper away from him. "I do realize that the Guardian is a little above your reading level," he said patiently. "But if you really want a paper, I'll buy you the Sun next time. You'll enjoy Page three at least." He poured himself another cup of tea and put his paper under his arm as he made to stand. "I'll be in the study if you need me. Don't distract Harry from his homework."

"I'm not an idiot, Moony!" Sirius yelled after him annoyed, before turning to Harry once Remus had left. "Do you know who that Thatcher woman is?"

Harry shrugged, relieved to see that his godfather appeared to have finally stopped eating. "Dunno. Uncle Vernon liked her, so she's probably really mean."

"Probably." Sirius nodded, contemplating the massacre he had created on the breakfast table, before drawing his wand and sending the dishes towards the sink with a lazy flick of his wand. There were a few crashes, but he didn't appear to hear them. "Alright, Prongslet," he grinned, rubbing his hands in expectation. "Maths. I once attended half a lesson in Arithmancy, so this should be a piece of cake."

"Sweet Merlin," Sirius groaned half an hour later. "Why on earth would you need to buy fifty-three bananas?"

"Because the monkeys escaped and you have to lure them back into the zoo," Harry said, pointing to the task that Remus had written down for him, while trying to do the calculations on a separate piece of parchment (he still struggled with the ink and quill that wizards apparently used).

"And why are they only sold in bunches of seven?" Sirius asked further.

"That way they can sell you more," Harry explained. "Because even if you only want one, you need to buy seven. It's very mean. But we can't buy all of them at the nicer store because they're more expensive over there, and we don't have so much money."

"Yes, because ...the government slashed the zoo's budget?" Sirius read, amused. "Moony's really thought this through, hasn't he? And here I was thinking maths was about numbers." He pointed towards the page-long text. "In my day, we didn't even do Maths. I just had lessons in French and Latin."

Harry's eyes grew big. "You speak Latin? And French?" He had never met a person who could speak another language – although Remus probably did, come to think of it – and found the idea quite impressive.

But Sirius merely laughed. "I said I was taught it, not that I actually learned anything." Catching Harry's surprised look, the grin dropped, and he quickly added, rather guiltily, "Which was of course not very smart of me... But I'm afraid my teachers weren't as nice as Moony is."

His face darkened somewhat and Harry was glad when Sirius returned to the numbers. "Well then. Fifty-three divided by seven. Let's do this; the little monkeys need us."

When it came to the Greek mythology homework, Sirius showed a lot more enthusiasm. "These are cool," he said, watching as Harry skimmed through the book that Remus had given him. It contained a host of exciting stories and even a lot of pictures next to them.

"Look!" Harry exclaimed, grinning at the page he had found. "This one's about Remus!" There was a picture of two babies that were being nursed by a wolf, under the title Romulus and Remus. Neither of them looked especially like Remus, but Harry felt excited nevertheless.

He had suspected that Sirius and Remus were actually wizard names, as he had never heard of them before, and wondered why he didn't have one – or his parents, who both seemed to have rather ordinary names as well. But this was a muggle book, so obviously Remus was a muggle name, like Harry's.

"Can we do this one?"

Sirius looked like he was about to start laughing, and for a moment there was definitely a grin on his face. But then it vanished, replaced by a frown. "Dunno," he said hesitantly, rubbing the back of his head. "Romulus and Remus founded Rome, so it's technically speaking not a Greek story...How about we do Perseus? He's got a flying horse!"

Harry didn't think that Remus would actually mind – he was a very lenient teacher, after all – but he nodded nevertheless. Remus probably knew about the story, and wouldn't find it half as amusing as Harry did. And a flying horse sounded quite exciting indeed, especially after Sirius told him that animals like that actually existed.

It was almost lunch time by the time they had finished, but Harry didn't mind at all. It was nice spending time with Sirius, having someone to help him with his homework...

Like a Dad.

Sirius was, of course, not his father, but it still felt nice to have him around, to know that he cared for him.

Harry was still adjusting to this new feeling, and even though Sirius and Remus seemed to find it the most natural thing in the world, to him, knowing that there were people who cared about him, who would do anything in their power to make him happy, was still an unfamiliar concept, and occasionally almost overwhelming.

"Alright, that should do it. If Moony doesn't give you an O for that I'll have to have some serious words with him at the parent-teacher meeting," Sirius announced when they had finished Harry's story about Perseus fighting the Medusa, and defending his wife Andromeda from her evil uncle Phineas (Sirius had for some reason found that part especially amusing, although Harry didn't really see why)

Harry giggled. "I don't get grades!" he objected. "And O isn't a grade anyway!"

Sirius frowned. "Of course it is! Outstanding!"

Harry laughed again, but when Sirius didn't join in he realized that his godfather was serious. "Do wizards have different grades?" he asked curiously.

"Dunno," Sirius shrugged, cheerfully screwing the lid onto the ink bottle. "Which do muggles have?"

"Well...A,B, C and so on," Harry said, feeling a bit strange about explaining to a grown-up what school grades were.

"How boring!" Sirius grinned jumping to his feet. "No, real grades are Outstanding, Exceeds Expectations, Acceptable, Poor, Dreadful and Troll."

"Troll?" Harry repeated, wondering if this was some sort of joke.

But Sirius didn't appear to be joking at all as he waved his wand to make the chair he had conjured for himself disappear. "Yep. But don't worry, Remus would never hand it out. He was such a swot I doubt he even knows it exists. Ready for lunch? There'll be-" He quickly transformed into a dog, sniffed once, and transformed back. "Cottage pie, I believe. Excellent!"

Harry giggled again, delighted by this casual show of magic. He loved it whenever Sirius transformed, as Padfoot the dog was great fun to be around. When they had been hunting Doxies in the curtains of the drawing room on Thursday afternoon, he had even been allowed to sit on Padfoot's back like a mounted knight, riding into battle against the surprisingly vicious fairies. It hadn't been very effective – both Remus and Sirius had actually been bitten once or twice – but great fun nevertheless.

"I'll come down soon, I just need to put this away," he said, dragging out his school bag from where he had kicked it the night before. There wasn't really need for a school bag, as Harry never had to walk further than to the study downstairs where they held their lessons, but Remus had told him that it would be good to keep all his school things in one place, and Sirius had jumped at the opportunity to buy him "one of those cool muggle bags with racing cars on them!"

"Okay, then... Don't forget to wash your hands, Prongslet!" There was a bark, and before Harry could react he felt a slobbery dog tongue run over his fingers.

"Eww!" But Padfoot was already noisily racing down the stairs, followed by the angry shrieks of the horrible portrait in the hallway.

Harry pushed his bag back under the table with his foot, not wanting to touch it now that he had dog slobber all over his hands, and made his way to the bathroom opposite his room.

From downstairs he could hear the sound of the kitchen door open. "Can't you go down the stairs for once without waking her up? You're an adult, for Merlin's sake! You're supposed to be responsible."

There was a happy bark, and a second later Sirius voice. "I told Harry to wash his hands. That's responsible enough for one afternoon, don't you think? ...Wait, is that carrots in there? You know I hate carrots!"

There was an exasperated sigh and steps in the hallway, and as Harry dried his hand the shouting from the portrait stopped. The steps vanished back into the kitchen, and silence descended once more.

But just as Harry set foot on the first step, he heard it.

The noise.

Footsteps, shuffling across wooden floor. Above him.

Harry froze.

He had barely thought about the Oompa- Loompa since last week. Most of his nights had been spent at least partially with Sirius, and during the day he had been far too busy to wonder about the creaking sounds of the house.

But here they were again, steps in the floor above him. He heard laughter sound from the kitchen. If it wasn't Sirius or Remus, who was it?

Remus had told him that Oompa-Loompas weren't real...but then again, he had admitted himself that he might be wrong. And he had suggested that Harry go look for them himself, hadn't he? Become an explorer...

"Harry? The pie's getting cold!"

The shuffling stopped, and Harry flinched, feeling caught. He could just ask Sirius or Remus about the noise, but somehow he did not want to. This was his discovery. His secret. Remus and Sirius had plenty of secrets of their own, after all.

"Coming!" he called, throwing one last look towards the dark stairs that led up to the higher, unexplored floors.

I'll come back. And I'll find you, Oompa-Loompa.

It actually took him until the next day to pursue his plan. After lunch, Sirius challenged him to another game of tag, and Harry finally got to use the bag of itching powder that Remus had given him. He was almost sure he had missed his godfather when he disappeared with a plop, but a second later the bag was gone anyway, and he could hear a shocked yelp from downstairs.

"Merlins's balls!"

Harry flinched as he heard the screams, and his laughter died at once. Had he gone too far? Sirius sounded really angry...

"Good throw." He whirled around saw Remus leaning against the door frame with his hands in his pockets, a crooked smile on his face. Harry felt himself relax at the sight; surely Remus would not be smiling if he had done something bad.

More howls sounded from downstairs, now accompanied by the screaming portrait. "Is he alright?" Harry asked uncertainly, thinking that he should probably go and check but not quite mustering the courage to do so.

But Remus seemed wholly unconcerned. "Oh, certainly. He tends to be overdramatic; don't let that fool you. Padfoot's always been a sore loser." When Harry still looked doubtful, he pushed himself off the doorframe and held his hand out for Harry. "You can help me make dinner if you want; that should cheer him up."

After dinner – there were strawberries with vanilla ice for desert, which he decided were now his favourite food ever – Remus read to him some more (they had finished the Chocolate factory and had moved on the The 35th of May, a very funny story about a boy going on adventures with his fantastic uncle and a talking horse) and then it was time for bed.

He didn't even have any nightmares this time, just a very enjoyable dream in which he and Sirius were wandering through a south sea island. Padfoot the dog was there too, riding on roller skates.

On Sunday he slept in late, so that both Sirius and Remus were already eating breakfast when he came downstairs. Remus was reading a book this morning, while Sirius appeared to be attempting to teach an empty milk bottle how to Waltz.

"The other left, you lactose-brained moron! And it's three, not four – morning Prongslet! Slept well?"

Harry nodded slowly, watching in fascination as the now released milk bottle tumbled across the table a few more times before finally falling over, where it was saved from rolling over the edge by an absent-minded wand flick from Remus.

"I didn't do your eggs yet Harry, how do you want them?"

"I can do them myself, you don't have to get up," Harry said quickly, not wanting to disturb Remus' reading.

"You don't have to cook your-" Sirius started to protest, but to both his and Harry's surprise Remus merely nodded.

"That's very considerate of you, thank you. There's another bottle of milk in the fridge if you need it; just tell me if you need help."

Harry quickly went over to the stove. He knew how to use it by now; Remus had shown him after making a few adjustments so that it could be used without magic. As he was retrieving the eggs and milk from the fridge, he heard Sirius protest behind him.

"Come on," he hissed quietly. "You've been sitting on you ar-butt for hours!"

"If Harry wants to make his own breakfast, I will let him," Remus answered just as quietly, though in a tone that made it clear this discussion was over. "What do you want to do today, Harry?" he said louder now, shutting his book and turning around. "I found an old box of board games lying around. Do you like Monopoly?"

Harry had never played Monopoly – or any other games, for that matter – but found it very enjoyable, especially when Sirius kept trying to steal Remus' money ("No wonder they sent you to prison") or refusing to pay for electricity ("I'm a bloody wizard! I don't even use that muggle nonsense!").

But during lunch Harry remembered the noise again, and decided that now was the time to investigate. So he politely declined Sirius' offer of Explosive Snap and retreated to his room under the pretext of reading.

He sat in his hammock with Prongs, the stuffed reindeer, and waited for the sounds from downstairs to grow quieter, indicating that Remus and Sirius had withdrawn into the study and closed the door. Once he was completely certain they would not hear him he slipped out once more, slowly stepping into the hallway.

Silence.

Did the Oompa-Loompa only come out at night? But he had been there yesterday, before lunch. Maybe he had been hungry? After a short hesitation Harry went back into his room to fetch the chocolate frog that he had won from Sirius in their last game of Exploding Snap. He knew Oompa-Loompas preferred cocoa beans, but he wasn't sure what they looked like or where to find them. And chocolate was made of cocoa beans, so surely the frog would be welcome?

There was still no sound when he came back into the hallway, and so he reluctantly decided to try his luck upstairs.

Now, at daylight and with the comforting feeling of Prongs close to him, the prospect of going to the second floor didn't scare him as much as it had last week, but he still felt a little guilty as he slowly climbed the wooden steps, flinching whenever one creaked beneath his feet.

Technically he wasn't forbidden from going here...it was just that he wasn't supposed to go up here alone.

But I'm not alone; I've got Prongs with me.

He still paused ever so often, straining his ears for any sounds from downstairs. He thought he could hear voices from the radio, and occasionally Remus or Sirius, but the door stayed shut.

The second floor was a lot gloomier than the one below. They hadn't bothered to fix the gas lights, and so the only light came from the window in the staircase. All the doors were closed, and there were thick layers of dust on several of the door knobs. The only door Harry had ever seen open was that to the library, but it was shut now, too.

He felt his determination waver. There was still no sign of the Oompa-Loompa, and he had no great desire to try any of the uninviting doors. Maybe he should ask Remus or Sirius after all? They could go exploring together; surely that would be much more fun than going on his own.

But he also wanted to do this on his own. Before, when he was still living with the Dursleys, Harry had spent most of his time alone; and even when he had been in company, like at school, he had been rather isolated from anybody else.

It was very unfamiliar, suddenly having people around him at all times, and not having to do anything on his own. And even though he was infinitely grateful and didn't miss the loneliness one bit, he couldn't help but yearn for some independence.

He wanted to do something on his own.

Toc. Toc. Toc.

Harry jumped, almost dropping the chocolate frog.

There it was again. The knocking. Shuffling.

Above him.

He hesitated once more, but only for a moment. Clutching Prongs closer to his chest he bravely set foot on the next flight of stairs.

This time, he had barely paused in the gloomy hallway before he heard the steps once more, again above him. It was the same on the next landing, and the next, until he had finally reached the top. The corridor was narrower here, and there were only two doors.

One of them stood open.

Harry stopped, suddenly uncertain. He had never been up here, and Sirius and Remus had explicitly forbidden him from going further than the second landing. But they had also said that all the doors up here had been sealed, and this one clearly wasn't.

Slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, Harry stepped closer.

The room looked different from all the other ones he had seen. It too was covered in thick layers of dust, and there were heavy cobwebs stretching from the chandelier to a broad wardrobe. But the walls were plastered in flags and posters that seemed very out of place in this house.

Red seemed to be a dominant theme, with a golden lion on it – some sort of emblem? – but there were also a lot of very normal pictures, most of them showing motorbikes or, strangely, women in bikinis. The strangest thing was that none of them moved, as all the other portraits in the house did.

How on earth were there muggle pictures in a house this magical?

And then he noticed the only picture that did move. This time he did drop the chocolate frog, but he barely noticed as he hastily stumbled closer.

It was them, there was no mistaking it. He had actually seen the photo before; Remus had a copy of it in his album. There were Sirius and Remus, smiling down at him, there was the horrible man who had betrayed his parents, and ...there was his Dad...Prongs.

For a while he simply looked at the picture, completely mesmerized. Of course he had seen it before, and he could see pictures like that whenever he wanted if he asked Sirius or Remus – Sirius had actually given him a framed photo of his parents that now rested on his nightstand – but finding them here, so unexpectedly, caught him off guard.

But when he did recover he began to wonder about just how it had gotten here. Of course it was possible that Sirius or Remus had put it up, but why should they have done that? As far as he knew they hadn't ventured much up the other landings either, and they hadn't even bothered to decorate the drawing room yet. Surely this room would not be a priority?

He looked around once more, wondering if he had missed something. There was dust everywhere; clearly nobody had been in this room for years. But then how...

Finally, his eyes fell on the open door, and the small bronze nameplate that was on it.

Cliffhangers! We all love those, don't we?

I won't be home this weekend, so the next update will be Sunday night or Monday. If you're bored waiting, why not review? ;)