September 9th, 1993
Hogwarts

"Well that fucking sucked."

Eddie started laughing when Ron caught up to him in between classes, having left Ancient Runes while Ron, Harry, and Hermione had gotten out of Divination. He didn't say anything about her being in Ancient Runes as well. He had more than a few ideas about how that was possible. She was irritable enough, too. Ron's irritation was more joking, but Hermione was not fucking around. Then again, she had just been in two classes. The four of them all kept working down the corridors, both tired and excited for Care Of Magical Creatures; in Harry, Ron, and Hermione's case, because Hagrid had always been their friend and, in Eddie's case, because his mother absolutely did not approve. He snickered when they stepped outside. His father had not said anything on the subject (having had to argue with Dumbledore enough with the backing of the Department Of Magical Law Enforcement to have dementors stationed at the school) but Delia had. Much of it came down to 'I'm still not convinced that he wasn't responsible for getting people killed in the 40s.'

That was not surprising. But it had been enjoyable to listen to her lose it when she saw the book he had come back with for the class. Followed after her screaming when he accidentally opened it, inadvertently forcing her son to jump out of the way of her trying to hex the book to make it stop.

"There we go!" Hagrid grinned at the four of them. "You're going to get a sneak peek into what we're going to be doing today!"

Eddie perked up. "Is it something my mum won't approve of?"

Hagrid paused. "It isn't dangerous, if that's what you're asking."

"Well, either way," Hermione said. "I'm glad to know we're going to have a good class after a class as wooly as Divination."

"I don't know why you guys chose to take that class," Eddie rolled his eyes. "It's our third year, do something fun."

"I'm regretting taking it," Hermione muttered. "But you're in Ravenclaw like your father had been, so perhaps I should have known."

"Nah," Eddie said with a smirk. "You just wanted to take everything."

Hermione sent him a mutinous look. "I wanted to explore everything I can! Unlike the rest of you, I wasn't raised in this environment!"

"Well, then you're going to be enthralled by what we're doing today," Hagrid told her while they approached a small edge of the Forbidden Forest. "I'd like you to meet one of my favourite creatures: Buckbeak!"

Harry, Ron, and Eddie all excitedly high fived each other when they saw the creature, though Hermione turned to Hagrid, looking a bit concerned.

"A hippogriff?" She raised an eyebrow. "Aren't they dangerous?"

"Of course not!" Hagrid replied. "All creatures can be dangerous if you don't treat them right! You just have to respect 'em!"

"Mum would so not approve!" Eddie started laughing. "I love it!"

"America has intense restrictions, don't they?" Hagrid sighed when Eddie nodded. "I don't think your government understands how important, how majestic these creatures are. Then again, MACUSA is not known for being nuanced."

"That's true," Hermione remarked, sending Hagrid a pointed look when he tossed Buckbeak a large slab of meat. "And you're sure this is perfectly safe?"

"Absolutely," Hagrid said. "I know what I'm doing. I've worked with creatures almost my entire life!"

"Like those horrible spiders you made me and Harry follow last year?" Ron exclaimed, shuddering at the memory. "That might have been the worst experience of my life! And," He scowled at Eddie. "Your dad's fault."

"I can't argue with that," Hagrid said.

"It wasn't that bad," Harry said, then pausing in consideration. "Actually, scratch that. Let's try to…forget about most of last year."

"Amen to that," Ron said. "I'd rather not have to follow any damn spiders again."

September 12th, 1993
London

"What are you two doing here?"

Remus and James exchanged an awkward look when they stepped into Delia's house, intentionally having timed themselves to be there before she left for work. She never woke up before 9 in the morning, and her husband nearly always left for work before she did. It had been a fair assumption, and it had, clearly, worked. Then again, while she was wearing her work clothes and makeup, her hair was tied up in twenty mini buns, and she was holding a glass of wine. James eyed the wine in particularly strangely, both out of concern and amusement. They uncomfortably followed her into the living room of the row house, watching her irritably pick up a brief phone call by knocking the phone off the hook and up to her ear, and then swear while she untied the buns with her wand. The few minutes felt like hours, and, when she finally turned back to them, both men stepped back, looking incredibly nervous.

"Again," She said, waving a hand at them while the other held her wand to pull the rest of her buns out. "What?"

Remus hesitated. "Could you try saying that without looking like you want to kill us?"

"No, and, also," She went on, slamming the door behind them with her heel and scowling at him. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"It's the weekend," He replied. "I thought it made sense to come here after hearing what James had heard from Harry this week. And I concurred, after our first class."

Delia raised an eyebrow. "What the fuck happened?"

"Firstly," James said. "I think I know where Sirius is and I want to be able to talk to him covertly and record -"

"No," Delia said, shaking out her hair. "For a variety of reasons, up to and including it breaks over a dozen laws and could get you killed."

"Everyone has been unreasonable about this since I came to, I'm telling you, Sirius would never kill anyone, much less thirteen people!"

"That's what we know, what people saw," Remus refused to meet his gaze and pushed aside the creeping thoughts of his husband that had resurfaced since his escape. "And I don't know what to believe. I haven't in years."

"Evidence," Delia said, swearing at the heels she had finally found. "Again, unless something comes up and proves - conclusively - that Sirius was not a mass murderer, then this matter is closed."

James frowned. "And what would have been his sentence from MACUSA's courts?"

Delia raised an eyebrow. "What would that matter? He's a British citizen, convicted of crimes he committed in Britain."

Remus sighed. "I don't think that's the point."

"And just answer the question," James pressed.

Delia scowled. "He'd have been sentenced to death and executed within a couple of weeks. As is par for the course in cases of mass murder."

"That's a bit harsh," Remus said.

"Regardless, even you don't think there's any way to conclusively prove he's innocent," Delia said, slipping her wand into her purse. "I know there is some evidence to suggest he may be innocent, but overwhelmingly the evidence points to guilt."

"The muggles say reasonable doubt is enough to acquit someone," James countered. "Shouldn't we adopt a system more like that?"

"That system is not as good as you think," Delia shook her head. "My father has gotten a lot of people off for murder in his work, and he gets away with it."

"What's his job?" Remus asked.

"He's a defense lawyer," Delia frowned. "And he's made good money doing it."

"But he's part of the most important aspect of how muggles exercise justice," James countered. "That a person is innocent until proven guilty, and that is something our system severely lacks."

September 17th, 1993
Edinburgh

"Holy shit…"

Sirius stared at himself in the mirror, in disbelief at the near impossible disguise of his appearance by transfiguration. It would be easy enough to reverse, he knew, but it was deeply uncomfortable to stare at himself and not see himself looking back. Then again, it was necessary. He didn't want to be forced to remain in his animagus form until he found his godson. For that reason alone, he had not only made his hair strawberry blonde (though still scraggly) and his gaunt cheeks a little fuller. In the most basic sense, he made himself look healthier and younger, just enough to not resemble the man on all of the wanted posters. It was unsettling. It was horrible. And it was necessary. He kept reminding himself of that, but it did nothing to make things better. That sentiment was something he couldn't help but suppress when he stepped out of the park washroom, having burned the clothes he had stuffed in the bag he stole on the way out of Azkaban. The wand he had stolen was in that bag, too. The matter of clothes and food were going to be significantly easier. Places to stay, too.

If there were something he had quickly become adept at, it was fraud.

"Afternoon."

He smiled at the man with a large dog walking past, affecting an American accent. The man nodded and smiled back, his dog excitedly running up to Sirius. After a brief hesitation, he knelt down to pet the dog, who happily licked his hand.

"He's not usually this friendly," The man remarked, turning suddenly to wave over a rather well dressed woman. It was then Sirius realised both were clearly wealthy. What I wouldn't give. "Rosalinde, I don't think your dog has ever been this friendly to anyone except you."

The woman started laughing and joined Sirius in petting the dog.

That was when the other reality set in.

The one that almost made him breakdown.

The couple wasn't just a normal couple.

They were muggles.

Muggles who looked a lot like Lily and James.

And, just like that, an ice cold knife sliced through his heart.

"It's nice to see dog people who connect well with him," She said, affectionately brushing her nose against her dog's. "I know. You're a sweetie. A big teddy bear."

"A teddy bear who bites the neighbours," The man joked. "I don't think it's made us very popular."

"I know about that," Sirius said, barely able to mask the upset in his voice. "But sometimes it's for the best. Can help you find yourself."

Twelve years. I've lost twelve years of my life and the ministry still wants to put me back. They never even tried to see if I could have been innocent. Never found evidence of another wizard at the scene. Fuck you Peter, slimy bastard for getting away undetected. Even being 'posthumously' declared guilty of killing Lily and trying to kill James…then again, it took him breaking out of a coma to set me free of those charges. It's all a disaster. All unfair. All a disgrace.

"Well, that's an experience more people probably have than we think," The man remarked. "How long have you been in Scotland? Are you an immigrant?"

"Yes," The lie slid effortlessly out. "Had better job opportunities here."

"America can be quite the disaster, can't it?" The woman laughed. "We have our own problems, but I imagine yours can be worse. That president in the 70s…"

"Nixon," The man finished.

"Ah, yes, Nixon!" The woman exclaimed snapping her fingers. She sent Sirius an apologetic look. "I remember that being quite the spectacle."

"It was," Sirius agreed, albeit not knowing much of what they were talking about.

"What's your name?" The man probed.

Sirius hesitated but then smiled. "Jackson Arson."

"See you around," The man said, waving at him as they walked away.

"Of course."

It was another lie.

But it was one he knew he would have to keep even more than the others, if he wanted to remain free, that is.