AN: Thanks and big squishy hugs to all my lovely reviewers and story followers - you guys make my day shiny! And Alicia Mirza, you really hit the nail on the head about Remus's lack of significant other ;) A little bit is revealed in this chapter, but mostly we'll find out why later on - along with the answers to your other questions!

Enjoy!

Chapter Three

The Man Who Lost It All

June 24rd, 1991

It was 8:32, and Harry was officially worried. He checked his watch against the kitchen clock, and wandered back into the hall, trying to peer through the frosted glass of the front door.

Remus was never late.

He unzipped his jacket, and then zipped it again, just for something to do, and tried to flatten his hair, which was particularly messy that morning.

At 8:33, Harry decided to chew his fingernails. He then decided he didn't like doing that, and promptly stopped.

At 8:34, he began to measure time by counting the seconds between Dudley's snores from upstairs.

At 8:35, a car door slammed, and Harry flung the door open to see Remus striding up the driveway, looking flustered.

"Hey kid, sorry I'm late. I left a few minutes later than usual, and there was a major traffic jam on the motorway because a thirty-foot ceramic giraffe fell off the back of a lorry! I thought I'd never get past the thing; its legs spread across two lanes."

Harry barely heard him speak, relieved as he was at the sight of his godfather. But a moment later, when his brain had caught up with his ears, Harry realised something was amiss. Remus's voice was a little hoarser than usual, and his normally tidy appearance seemed a little rough around the edges, like a character in an old cartoon. And on closer inspection, his eyes looked a little bloodshot.

"Remus, are you hungover?"

Remus's eyebrows shot up to comical heights. "Don't be silly, Harry," he said, blinking rapidly, before giving Harry a quizzical look. "How would you know what a hangover looks like anyway?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "One of our teachers likes to have "quiet time" every Monday morning. Although you don't look half as bad as he normally does."

Remus was appalled. "Good grief, you never said! Well, at least you'll be changing schools soon; hopefully none of your new teachers will be alcoholics."

"What, like you?" Harry said, cheekily.

Remus made a valiant attempt to look stern, but his lips kept twitching upwards as he gave Harry a gentle shove. "Now, now. You can blame Kingsley for this one; he tested his homemade brew on me."

"What on earth was it?"

"Fi- eh, whiskey."

"Is that strong?"

"The sort Kingsley makes? Absolutely." He paused, blinking down at Harry, and then scrubbed a hand over his face. "You really are far too young for this conversation. Let's go; I need breakfast, and lots of it. We'll stop at the café on the way."

Harry grinned, and ran back to close the door, hoping they'd escape before –

"LUPIN!"

Remus flinched, shoulders hunching as he raised one hand to his head, as though trying to keep it attached to his neck. Uncle Vernon stood in the doorway, face red and moustache twitching. Harry could see the vein in his forehead throbbing from where he stood.

"A word, if you please." And with that, he vanished back into the kitchen, presumably for dramatic effect.

Remus heaved a sigh and nudged Harry. "Quick, tell me what he thinks you did this time."

But Harry couldn't convince the words to form in his mouth. What could he possibly say? "Uncle Vernon thinks I caused a glass wall to disappear and set a snake on Dudley. Mind if we get banana fudge sundaes later?"

"Harry?" Remus said, poking him gently on the arm.

"LUPIIIIIIIN!"

"Aaah," Remus hissed, this time pressing his hands over his eyes. He walked slowly into the house, as though towards the gallows, with Harry trailing miserably after him. He made to follow Remus into the kitchen, but the door was promptly shut in his face by his uncle, who snarled at him to get back to his bedroom. Harry stomped loudly up the stairs, before slinking back down again, avoiding the creaky steps. Heart pounding, he pressed his ear against the kitchen door.

"How are you, Vernon?" he heard Remus say, in far more courteous a manner than the smaller, moustached man had ever greeted him with.

"Well, Lupin, how do you think I am!"

There was a pause. "I'm really not sure if that's a question or not," Remus replied. "For the sake of clarity, how about you tell me what it is that's bothering you. And –", he added, as Harry heard Vernon take a rather large breath, "– preferably while speaking at a lower volume; I do have rather a large headache."

"The boy has been up to his tricks again," Vernon spat, "Petunia and I will not stand for it anymore!"

"Been up to what, precisely?"

"That – that nonsense! Dudley could have been killed. KILLED!"

Remus let out a small groan, but continued. "I'm terribly sorry, Vernon, but I have absolutely no idea to what you are referring."

"Your boy out there set a snake on Dudley at the zoo. My son could have been eaten! EATEN!"

"That would have been most unfortunate, and I am extremely glad to hear he survived the ordeal. But I fail to see how Harry could possibly have bribed a snake into attacking his cousin?"

Harry could only imagine how purple his uncle's face was by now.

"There was glass in front of the snake's cage –"

"Enclosure?"

"WHATEVER! There was glass, and it mysteriously vanished as Dudley was standing in front of it. Do you understand now, Lupin?"

Harry felt the first threads of panic rise within him. Remus always listened to Vernon's accusations about whatever Harry had 'done', said something to calm the man, but was never, ever angry with Harry himself. In fact, he often seemed almost proud, sometimes grinning and ruffling Harry's hair once Uncle Vernon was out of sight.

But this time it was serious. Not that the boa constrictor could actually have eaten Dudley – at least not in less than a few hours – but a giant snake escaping the zoo was far more severe than growing hair back overnight.

"Vernon," Remus said, "are you trying to suggest that Harry somehow made a sheet of glass disappear from a reptile enclosure in some sort of homicidal rage?"

Uncle Vernon spluttered a bit. "I don't know why he did it, but he did it!"

"But surely if he wanted to kill Dudley, there are easier ways to do it. Poison, for example? Or some sort of quote-unquote 'accident'?"

"Maybe he didn't think it through," Uncle Vernon snarled, "Or maybe he just couldn't help himself."

"Ahh!" Remus exclaimed, "You're thinking Harry is serial killer material. Well, that is rather serious. You haven't caught him torturing animals, have you? Intentionally stepping on snails in the garden or anything?"

"No, but – "

"And he hasn't been wetting the bed? Surely not, or you would definitely have raised that issue first. No, Vernon, I don't believe Harry has the makings of a psychopath just yet."

"I never said that he – he only tried to kill my son!" Uncle Vernon bellowed. "He spoke to that snake and it attacked Dudley!"

This particular statement was met with silence. At first, Harry assumed Remus was trying his best not to snigger out loud. But it stretched on so long that Harry began to wonder if his godfather's hangover had caught up with him and he'd passed out under the kitchen table. Eventually Remus spoke, but in a hushed voice that held no trace of humour. A voice Harry had never heard from him before.

"He spoke to the snake."

"Yes! Dudley and Piers saw him talking to it."

"But they didn't hear what Harry said?"

"Isn't it obvious what he said to it?! "Kill Dudley!""

"Did they hear anything he said? Any word at all?"

"I don't know, Lupin – what does that matter?"

Remus didn't answer, but Harry could hear him pacing back and forth on the linoleum floor.

"Never mind," he said eventually, "It doesn't matter. I'm sorry Dudley had a fright, but I'm sure it will never happen again."

The unmistakeable thump of Uncle Vernon's fist slamming onto the table finally woke the boy in question; Dudley's snoring upstairs was replaced by an incoherent bellow and the sound of various items being knocked to the floor.

"YOU'RE SURE?!" Uncle Vernon shrieked, "I don't want your thoughts on the matter Lupin – I want something done!"

"There's nothing to be done, Vernon, as Harry did not do anything." Remus lowered his voice so much that Harry had to strain to hear him. "Trust me when I tell you that controlling a snake is not something a child could possibly do."

"But –"

Uncle Vernon abruptly stopped speaking. Harry backed away from the door a little, sure his eavesdropping had been noticed, but when no footsteps approached or purple-faced uncles flung open the door, he tiptoed back over, just in time to hear Remus's response.

"Harry is going away to school in September, so he will be of little concern to you from then on."

Uncle Vernon made some sort of horrible choking sound. "I've told you before, Lupin, he's not going to that place. Petunia and I absolutely forbid it!"

"I think you know that's not your decision."

Harry never heard his uncle sound so panicked as when his new school was brought up in conversation. Why were his aunt and uncle so averse to his attending this Hogwarts place? He'd been told it was a private school; surely they had no qualms about informing the neighbours of that fact? Or perhaps they didn't like the idea of Harry going to a posher school than Dudley. Honestly, that seemed the most likely explanation.

"You think you can intimidate me, Lupin," Uncle Vernon said, in a quavering voice that suggested the other man most definitely could. "I won't budge on this; the boy is not going to that place and that's final!"

"I'm afraid this is not up for debate, Vernon," Remus replied, sounding exhausted. They'd had this argument many times over the past year; Harry had overheard at least five of them.

"We'll see," Uncle Vernon said.

"Yes, we will."

"Oh yes we will!"

"I know we – you know what, this will go around in circles."

This time footsteps did approach, and Harry darted back towards the stairs, sitting down on the bottom step just as Remus emerged from the kitchen.

"Come along, Harry," he said quietly, opening the front door. Not daring to look back into the kitchen, Harry followed his godfather outside.

Remus lived and worked in London, but unlike many other Londoners, he owned a car – an old Austin Metro, which appeared to be rather small, but was surprisingly roomy once you were inside it. Harry had once asked him why he didn't get an updated model – according to Aunt Petunia, the size and expense of a man's car showed you what he was worth. But Remus had only shrugged and told him that no amount of material wealth could tell you that. Harry supposed the difference was that the Dursleys cared desperately what people thought of them; Remus had once worn a bright pink bow in his hair for a whole day, just because Harry dared him to.

They drove in silence for several minutes, passing into the outskirts of Little Whinging before Harry couldn't stand it anymore.

"I swear I didn't do it, Remus. Honestly."

"I know, Harry."

Harry didn't like his distant tone, or the way Remus's smile didn't reach his eyes. He took a deep breath.

"But…the glass did vanish. I saw it."

"I know that too. Your Uncle Vernon has a flair for the dramatic, but I doubt even he would openly admit to a hallucination of that magnitude."

"So, what do you think it could have been? A hologram?" Harry frowned to himself as he said the words. Why would a zoo only have a hologram of glass to keep in dangerous animals? Surely that would defeat the purpose entirely.

Remus didn't answer right away, instead fiddling with the knob for the heater, although there was no need on a warm June morning. Finally, he said, "I think, Harry, that sometimes extraordinary things happen. And they don't have to be sinister or frightening – they just are what they are: extraordinary."

Harry considered this as he watched suburban countryside turn to motorway. Extraordinary things did happen in the world; people spoke about miracles, things that seemed improbable or impossible, or entirely without explanation. Alien sightings, haunted houses, people who emerged from comas after ten or twenty years.

But something like this…it was almost like magic.

Harry wasn't sure he believed in magic, but after watching that pane of glass disappear in front of him, he really hoped it was. Otherwise, both he and his whole family were going round the twist.

He glanced at his godfather, who had fallen silent and was apparently concentrating hard on his driving. Remus, too, was fairly weird, in his own way; he lived in a huge house full of bizarre, antique-looking furniture that seemed to have very little purpose, and had kitchen cupboards stocked full of the most amazing and obscure foods, almost all of which couldn't be found in the regular supermarkets (Harry had looked, a lot). He also had a pet owl, who he had somehow trained to deliver letters to people. The man was the very definition of eccentric.

However, vanishing glass seemed a little too extraordinary to dismiss, and Harry wondered why Remus seemed so tense, and why he had been concerned over exactly what Harry had said to the snake.

Lily's Café in New Maiden was a frequent stop-off for breakfast on their way to Remus's home in Fulham. While the establishment's namesake looked nothing like Harry's mother – a tall, stooped black woman with a receding afro and a fondness for colourful upholstery – she was exceptionally fond of the boy and his godfather, always greeting them with a toothy grin and a double helping of absolutely anything they wanted.

This morning, however, she was absent – at a wedding in Glasgow, they were told – and replaced by a young, wispy waitress with shaky hands and a weak voice. They ordered their usual; bacon, eggs and toast for Remus, and pancakes drizzled with syrup and a side of sausages for Harry – both to be accompanied by a pot of tea. The waitress took their order quickly and scurried away into the kitchen, clutching her notepad between white knuckles.

"We haven't been here in a while," Remus said, looking around, "Were the walls always banana yellow?"

"I think they were lime green last time," Harry said, squinting at a new painting on the wall, "Or maybe bright orange."

"Could have been both." Remus ran a hand down his face and groaned. "Remind me to never accept a drink from Kingsley again. And remind yourself of that too, when you get older." He squinted at Harry. "Much older."

Harry laughed and agreed, although he secretly wondered how good whiskey tasted if Remus had had so much of it. "Oh, I got a postcard from Hope the other day. Shouldn't she be back from her trip by now?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Should she heck? You know my mother – never stick to any sort of itinerary. Last I heard, she was getting a tattoo of a kangaroo, as she has lately realised it's her spirit animal."

Harry almost tipped over his glass of water, he was laughing so hard. "Why a kangaroo?"

"I assume because they can hop away when you start to bore them. Or they enjoy kicking you in the - "

He was interrupted by the arrival of the wispy waitress, whose thin arms shook under the weight of their food-laden plates. Remus reached out to help her, but she shook her head furiously and gingerly laid them on the table, before darting back to the counter.

"D'you think she's alright?" Harry mused, after watching her for a moment.

Remus glanced back at the waitress, who was now absentmindedly folding and refolding a pile of freshly laundered tea towels. "Perhaps not. Or perhaps she's simply the owner of a nervous disposition." He poured them both a cup of tea. "Your mother's aunt was a little like that; always flitting about, never able to settle."

"Which aunt was that?"

"Myrtle, the one who married the -"

"- aggressive accountant," Harry finished. He had always felt a bit sorry for Myrtle; the majority of stories Remus told about her always ended with her straightening tablecloths and dusting pristine ornaments, while her husband yelled at politicians, salespeople, or long lost relatives who called to the house. A pattern which was apparently the end of the accountant; he died of a heart attack during a rant about overpriced napkin holders. Harry often wondered if Uncle Vernon would go the same way.

He chewed on his piece of pancake, watching as the waitress finally returned from wherever she had been visiting in her mind, and carried the pile of towels through to the kitchen. Hopefully she didn't have an accountant at home.

"Speaking of relationships." Remus leaned forward, clearing his throat. "I'm actually seeing someone at the moment. And I'd like you to meet her."

Harry almost choked on his pancake. "Right now?"

Remus laughed. "No, not right now. But, sometime soon, maybe? What do you think?"

"Yeah, er, yeah, of course."

Remus smiled, and seemed content to leave it at that, returning to his eggs. Harry, however, felt his appetite swiftly disappear.

He knew Remus had had girlfriends before, but he'd never met any of them. Remus had told him that he'd only bring them into Harry's life if things got serious, and Harry had always been perfectly happy with this arrangement, almost selfishly so. He didn't want to have to share Remus with someone else. Kingsley didn't count; Harry had grown up around him, and he was almost like Remus's brother.

But girlfriends were different. Uncle Vernon was constantly complaining about Tom From Work, whose girlfriend was apparently a nightmare – nagging him constantly, and spending his paychecks on Italian footwear. Harry wasn't sure if that meant those shoes were more expensive that other footwear, but it sounded like it. The thought of Remus winding up with someone like that was awful. The man could obviously take care of himself, being a super-secret spy, but what if he fell in love with a lunatic? He was so good-natured, what if he let her walk all over him and spend all his money? Suddenly, Harry felt the urge to track this new girlfriend down and inspect the labels on all her shoes.

"What's she like?" he asked, hoping the panic he was feeling hadn't shown in his voice. Remus didn't seem to notice anything peculiar, even smiling at the question.

"Her name is Faye. She's originally from Wales, but she lives in London now."

Great, she was nearby.

"Does she work with you?"

"Same building, different department. She's a counsellor, of sorts."

"Like you're a detective, of sorts."

Remus's lips twitched up. "Exactly."

So, she had a secret job. That sort of worked in her favour, but Harry still wasn't convinced.

"Does she have any, you know, unusual hobbies?"

Remus seemed suspended somewhere between laughter and confusion. "Unusual hobbies? Like ferret collecting, or something?"

"Sure, yeah," Harry said, trying to sound casual, "Or, you know, buying really expensive Italian things?"

Remus leaned back in his chair, his lips now twitching wildly.

"Harry, are you worried she's after me for my money?"

Harry shrugged, hoping he wouldn't have to admit to anything, before deciding that it was better Remus was aware of the threat. Love was apparently blind, after all. "Well, you never know…"

The bell on the door jingled as Remus began to snigger, bringing a warm breeze and a new customer into the café. Harry was vaguely aware of a man approaching the now deserted counter, and felt the hair on his arms stand to attention for no apparent reason. He sat up straighter.

"You know," Remus said, "I'm a little offended. Don't I have anything else to lure women towards me with than my bank balance?"

"Well, yeah, of course you do," Harry replied, rubbing his now cold arms and hoping Remus didn't want him to comment on how good-looking his godfather was. Harry thought he was, but it would be very embarrassing to say it out loud. His eyes drifted back to the man at the counter, who wasn't even looking at the menu on the wall, or choosing a seat. He was just standing there, not shuffling or moving at all.

Completely still, like that boa constrictor at the zoo.

"You sure?" Remus was asking, "Because, you know, if I'm completely lacking in personality, I'd rather hear about it now from you."

Harry looked at him in confusion. "Of course you're not – I'd never think that!"

Remus's grin faltered. "I'm only joking Harry. Are you alright?"

"Yeah." He glanced briefly at the stranger, and then back at his godfather. "I just don't want you to wind up with a total witch."

Remus laughed so hard at this, he almost fell out of his chair, while a movement just past his head caught Harry's eye. Through the porthole window to the kitchen, he could see the waitress speaking to the chef, and it seemed that the stranger noticed her too, from where he stood. He lifted a pale hand, running it through his hair, his jacket shifting to accommodate the action. And that was when Harry saw the knife tucked into his belt.

The waitress reappeared, just as Harry grabbed Remus's wrist.

"Remus, he's got a -"

Within a second and a half, several things happened. The stranger caught the young waitress by the throat, causing her to drop the tray of teacups and saucers she had been carrying. Remus sprang from his chair, startling the old woman sitting behind him into dropping her cigarette into her scrambled eggs, while someone in the kitchen began screaming in Spanish.

"Easy," Remus said, holding his hands up, "just relax."

"Shut it!" the stranger snarled, pulling the waitress in front of him, as though using her as a shield. "This doesn't concern you. Everyone out – GET OUT!"

A young couple sitting by the window ran for the door, while the old woman simply lit up another cigarette. Remus didn't move.

"No-one needs to get hurt here."

"Oh really? Well, if you don't shut it, your boy there will be trying to resurrect your mangled body in a minute!"

Harry desperately wanted to get up and pull Remus back; he was standing far too close to the knife-wielding man for comfort. But Remus didn't seem at all perturbed by what Harry thought was a fairly good threat, and took a step closer.

"You don't want to do anything you'll regret."

The stranger snorted, relaxing and tightening his grip on the knife. Harry couldn't take his eyes off it.

"How do you know what I'll regret?"

"Well, I suppose I don't, seeing as we don't know each other personally," Remus said, taking another step, "But I know I'd definitely regret hurting someone I love."

The stranger's eyes widened, and he glanced at the waitress, before narrowing his eyes at the other man.

"You a copper?"

"Not exactly."

"Exactly? Either you are or you aren't – which is it?"

"Well, if we're talking specifics, then I suppose I'm not."

This seemed to relax the stranger, but he didn't loosen his grip on his hostage. "You a P.I. or something, yeah? Well, maybe I should've hired you to keep an eye on Gwen here." He gave the waitress a shake, his voice becoming choked. "Stop that bastard from seducing her and taking her away from me!"

"He didn't seduce me –"

"Can you believe it, mister?" the stranger interrupted, his eyes shining. "She's with someone else, while she's carrying my baby. It's not right, she belongs with me." He tightened his hold around Gwen's neck, twisting her backwards so he could look into her face. "You and the baby belong with me."

"It's not yours, Tim" the waitress gasped, her pale face now blotchy as she tried to prevent the man's arm from crushing her windpipe.

"Stop saying that! It's mine, you know it's mine, and we can be together – you just have to come home."

Gwen gave a strangled sob, as the man – Tim – kissed her cheek roughly. Remus took another step forward.

"You don't want to hurt her."

Tim tore his gaze away from Gwen, his dark eyes like shimmering black pools that never reached the light.

"Really, big man? You're gonna tell me what I want?"

"If you really love her, you'll want what's best for her. And you'll let her go."

"No, NO!"

Tim started to laugh a little hysterically, pointing the knife at Remus. "You're funny, Mister P.I. – a real comedian. Because we both know that's not how this works. Some bastard comes along and takes your woman away, and you're just meant to let her go? Let her leave you?"

"Yes, you just let her go," Remus replied, softly, "You let her be happy."

Tim shook his head furiously. "No, no way. She can't tell me she's in love with me, and then decide she's not. That's not fair."

"No," Remus said, "It's not fair. But this isn't fair either, Tim. You have a choice here, to do the right thing."

There were sirens in the distance; the young couple must have called the real coppers. Tim began to shake, and Remus took another small step. Harry wanted to yell at him to stop – he was almost within arm's reach of the other man – but his voice wouldn't work.

"I have a choice, eh?" Tim said. "Alright then, how about I give her a choice, too?" He looked down at Gwen. "She can either choose to be with me, or she can choose to die."

Harry felt as though he were in a dream; there was no way this could be happening. Not in a little café, over pancakes and eggs and a pot of tea.

"That won't make you happy, Tim," Remus said, and Harry could hear urgency creep into his tone, "How could hurting Gwen make you feel better?"

"He's not good enough for her; bloody unemployed waste of space, he is! And she's choosing him over me? Bet he's been laughing at me this whole time – bet they both have."

"No, I haven't –"

"SHUT UP!" Tim roared, and Gwen began to sob hysterically, her entire body sagging as her knees gave way. Only Tim's grip was keeping her upright now. "You have to decide right now if you love me."

"Tim, p-p-please don't."

"Do you love me?"

Harry wished she would lie, or say something – anything – instead of trembling and crying, but it seemed Gwen could manage little else at this point. Tim shut his eyes, tears now sliding down his cheeks too. For a moment, Harry thought he was giving up, but when his eyes opened again, they were brimming with hate.

"I guess you'd rather die, then."

Gwen screamed as he raised his arm, plunging the knife towards her stomach, and Harry slammed his own eyes shut.

But the dreadful sound he was expecting never came. Gwen continued to sob and cry, but when Harry opened his eyes again, she looked unharmed. Tim was still clutching her to him, but his face looked oddly blank, all traces of anger and hatred gone. The knife was still clutched in his hand, but the point was several inches from Gwen's stomach, as though he had stopped himself just before it made contact.

"You don't want to do this," Remus was saying, his tone gentle, but firm. "You remember how much you love this woman, and you know you don't want to hurt her."

"I don't want to hurt her," Tim echoed, and the knife slid from his hand, clattering to the tiled floor.

Remus strode forward, kicking the knife behind him, and carefully extracted Gwen from underneath the other man's arm. Surprisingly, Tim let her go – in fact, he barely reacted at all, swaying slightly on the spot, staring at some point on the opposite wall.

A horde of police officers burst into the café, just as Remus was tying Tim's wrists together with a roll of sellotape.

"Morning chaps," Remus said, "Don't suppose any of you has an aspirin handy?"

The old woman got to her feet, muttering something about a boring ending, and left the café without paying.

Harry perched on the bonnet of the Austin Metro, watching police officers wander in and out of Lily's Café. Seeing as they had both Tim and his knife in custody, he wasn't sure what more they needed to do there, but there were at least a dozen of them talking, taking pictures and pointing at things.

A policewoman had taken Harry aside and asked for his version of what had happened. He'd told her what he could; what time he and Remus had arrived, what time Tim had arrived, the uneasiness Harry had felt upon seeing him.

"You felt instantly afraid?" the policewoman asked, eagerly. "Like he was a threat from the moment he entered?"

"Er, no, I don't think so. He was just acting strangely, that's all."

The policewoman looked deflated, but thanked him anyway and moved on. Remus had told him to wait by the car, presumably because he was being interviewed himself, so Harry pulled himself onto the bonnet and waited.

After his brief and inexplicable bout of calmness, Tim had lost his cool again when the officers arrested him and started to read him his rights. He began screaming and swearing at Gwen, who was being treated for shock by two paramedics, and had to be forcibly bundled into a squad car. It was bizarre to witness – even Tim looked confused by the situation he found himself in.

Why had he listened to Remus and let her go, only to change his mind again?

Harry wasn't exactly sure what had happened to Tim in those last moments, but as crazy as it sounded, he just knew Remus was somehow responsible.

He swivelled around on the bonnet and searched the crowd for his godfather, finally spotting him several metres away, where he was deep in conversation with a heavily bearded man in a long, dark coat. He didn't look like a police officer, but maybe he was a plain clothes detective? Or maybe he was something else.

After a few more exchanged words, Remus shook the man's hand. And in the blink of an eye, the man had vanished, and Remus was striding towards Harry.

"Alright kiddo?"

Harry nodded, moving over so Remus could sit beside him. He slung an arm around Harry's shoulders, gazing around at the crowd of officers, onlookers and reporters still milling around.

"A lot of drama for one morning, huh?"

"Yep. What's going to happen to Tim, d'you think?"

"He'll most likely be charged with assault, if not attempted murder."

"Will we have to testify?"

"I might," Remus replied with a shrug, "But I doubt you will."

Harry nodded, watching as Tim continued to scream as the police car drove him away. "He must have been really upset, to attack his girlfriend like that."

"Ex-girlfriend." Remus gave him a sly grin. "And that's a bit rich, coming from the kid who sends snakes after people."

Harry elbowed him in the ribs. "All I told the snake was that I was seeing you today, and that Kingsley's girlfriend makes nice lasagne! Wish I'd never said a word to it."

"So, it didn't start talking back to you, then?" Remus said, mock-serious, "Tell you of its preference for snacking on lads of the rounder variety? Or ask for that lasagne recipe?"

He knew Remus was teasing, but for a split second, Harry debated whether or not to tell him about that noise the snake had made, the way it had sounded almost like English…

"Huuuuuuumaaaan."

But while vanishing glass was one thing, turning into Doctor Dolittle suddenly and without any other talking animals in his past was quite another. And really, he wasn't sure what he'd heard – he might have imagined the entire thing, or heard the wind whispering...through a thoroughly windless building.

Perhaps snakes were like parrots, good at imitating things people said? That could be a thing! Whatever the reason, he decided Remus didn't need to know about it, and it was probably better that the man didn't, so Harry forced himself to roll his eyes and reply:

"Of course not!"

It may have been a trick of the light, or a remnant of the whiskey hangover, but Harry was sure his godfather looked distinctly relieved. They both watched as a young man, who could only be Gwen's new boyfriend, burst through the crowd and pulled her into a hug, causing her to burst into tears again. Harry glanced up at Remus and found him smiling softly at the scene.

"How's your hangover?" Harry asked.

"Oh, much better, actually. Lucy, the lovely paramedic, gave me two aspirin and about a gallon of water, so I'll be peeing all afternoon."

Harry laughed, looking over at the blonde paramedic, who waved cheerily at them. "Two whole aspirin? Maybe she fancies you."

"Either that, or she was after my pension plan."

Harry glared at Remus and the man laughed loudly, his eyes twinkling. Tightening his grip around Harry's shoulders, he pulled him into a one-armed hug and kissed the top of the boy's head.

"I appreciate you being worried about me, Harry, I really do. And while I don't think Faye is the sort to go after blokes for money, I promise that when I bring her around, you can grill her as much as you like."

Harry wasn't entirely convinced, but at least Remus didn't seem to be as downtrodden as Tom From Work. He nodded and suddenly remembered the question he'd been dying to ask.

"Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"Who was that man?"

"What man?"

"The man in the long coat, with the red beard. You were speaking to him just before you came over here."

Remus raised an eyebrow, smiling down at him. "Nothing gets past you, does it? That was O'Mahoney, I know him from work."

"And what was he doing here?"

"Being nosy."

"How did he know you were here?"

"News travels fast in London."

Harry knew he should probably give up, that Remus wasn't going to tell him anything, but he couldn't help asking once again.

"Are you ever going to tell me what you really do, Remus?"

He assumed the question would be futile, that Remus would shrug it off with some witty comment, as was their usual exchange on the subject. But surprisingly, the man ran a hand through his hair and stared down at him for a long moment, before saying:

"I will soon, Harry."

Harry must have looked as thoroughly shocked as he felt, because Remus gave a small huff of amusement.

"On your birthday, I promise I'll tell you everything."

Later that night, after Harry had gone to bed – full to the brim with turkey, stuffing, custard trifle, and elation from his Monopoly victory over Remus and Kingsley – the two men shut themselves in Remus's study. A piece of parchment lay on the desk, official Ministry stamp on one top corner, the Auror department insignia on the other. Kingsley didn't need to ask what it was; he counted five names written on it.

"Well," he said, taking a sip of a beverage that Remus had made sure was more coffee than Irish. "Have you made a decision about the sixth recruit you want to take on?"

Remus nodded, sinking down into one of the armchairs, and Kingsley mirrored him, stretching his long legs out. Taking a deep breath, Remus told him the last name he had chosen, and the other man didn't seem at all surprised. It was one thing Remus had always admired about his best friend; his ability to always seem utterly unruffled by the world. Last week, a suspected dark wizard had thrown up on the black man's shoes, and he had only raised one dark eyebrow, as if to say, "that the best you can do?"

"Are you happy with your decision?" Kingsley asked.

Remus shrugged. "I wouldn't have been happy either way. But, I look at Harry, and what he grew up around, and how he's turned out in spite of it. And look at the way I was after the war, and even that man today who just cracked because he felt betrayed by the woman he loved. Can any of us control what we do?"

"I think that last example is a little extreme," Kingsley said, his voice slow and calming as ever. "You were in love with a girl that you gave up to someone else, without trying to stab her."

Remus snorted. "Well, she would have slapped me and stolen the knife anyway."

Kingsley threw his head back and laughed. "Yes, most likely."

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their coffee, until at last Remus got to his feet. Kingsley watched as his friend wrote 'Nymphadora Tonks' at the bottom of his list, rolled up the parchment, and sent his owl, Athena, on her way.

"Did I do the right thing, Kingsley?" Remus whispered.

Kingsley didn't answer, because he knew his friend didn't want him to. So, they simply watched the owl grow smaller and smaller, until she disappeared into the darkness.

AN: Please review, if you've got a sec! ;)