A/N: Once again, a long chapter. But this one was most satisfying to write.

Lost: Small Boy, Answers to Harry

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The sun was beginning to set when the three exhausted young wizards reached the small village that the road lead to. They staggered down the main street, Harry yawning, Nymphadora muttering furiously and Charlie just looking downcast. They passed a few muggles walking home in the dusk, but did not greet them. The villagers, mostly elderly, peered at them suspiciously and went on their way. When the children saw a bench outside the local grocery store all three dropped onto with a sigh.

"I'm not used to legs. What's the point of legs when you've got broomsticks? Using your legs should be illegal," Charlie mumbled.

"We haven't got a broomstick any more, that's the point," Nymphadora replied, but she no longer sounded angry. In fact, she almost sounded affectionate.

"We've got to ask a muggle for help," Charlie said, "my Dad says country muggles are really helpful when you're in a fix. They'll feed us and everything. They've got barns that you can sleep in."

"We have to find Moony," Harry piped up.

"I know, kid, I know," Nymphadora patted his arm, "but we're too tired to walk any further tonight," she raised her head and looked around. They had come to a halt in the one shopping area of town, and small stores selling everything from baby shoes to buzz saws lined the street. The grocery behind them was closed, as were most of the other shops.

"Isn't there anyone awake in this town?" she muttered.

As if in answer, a light came on in the tiny, two-story building across the road. The bottom window seemed to lead through to a small bookstore, but a sign that pointed to the upper storey declared DENTIST STUDIO in large black letters. As they watched, a man came trudging down the illuminated stairs and switched off the light when he reached the bottom.

"There," said Nymphadora, "come on, that's our muggle. How do I look?" she turned to face them. Charlie crammed his fist to his mouth to contain his giggles.

Harry said very earnestly. "Your freckles are too big."

Nymphadora had apparently decided to mimic Charlie's features, but she still needed a lot of practise with her metamorphmagus gift. Her hair had turned a bloody shade of crimson and her face was covered in enormous, irregularly shaped spots.

"Oh," Nymphadora frowned and the huge brown dots receded until they more or less looked like regular freckles, although they still appeared to have been applied by a toddler with a ball point pen, "well, quick, before he gets away."

"I'm not sure," Charlie and Harry trailed after Nymphadora, who was walking briskly across the road to intercept the muggle. The man was heading for a car parked not far away, "I'm think my Dad said something about muggle dentists being dangerous…"

"Excuse me, sir!" Nymphadora waved at the muggle, who looked up at the sound of her voice. He wore thin spectacles on his friendly face, and had dark, curly brown hair, "please, we need help!"

"What's happened?" the muggle asked, blinking at the sight of the three youngsters who had just emerged from the shadows.

To Harry's surprise, tears of the crocodile nature were pouring down Nymphadora's face, "we're awfully lost, sir," she sniffed, "we can't get home, and it's dark, and oh, oh…won't you help us?"

"There now, don't worry," the man looked confused but desperate not to upset the young girl any further, "there's a phone in my office upstairs, would you like to come and use it to call your parents?"

"Er," Nymphadora had not anticipated this, "er…no, you see, our families are on holiday and…we don't know the phone number of the house they're staying at. But we know where the house is," she added.

The man glanced around as if hoping some other solution would pop out of thin air, but when nothing appeared, he said hesitantly, "well, I live just down the road. I'll take you there and you can explain the situation to me. How's that?"

"Yes, thank you so much," Nymphadora said, taking Harry's hand.

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The muggle lived in a small flat not far away. When they got there, he sat them down at the table and brewed up three cups of warm milo while Nymphadora began weaving a suitably heart-warming tale of adventure and desperation. The muggle's wife, a bushy haired lady with rather large teeth, was surprised to see what her husband had brought home but evidently not too concerned.

"I'll just go put Hermione to bed, then I'll be back down again," she said, heading up the stairs.

Nymphadora began to explain their situation, "my name is Dora and this is my brother Charlie and my cousin Harry," she said, her tears completely gone. In the warm light of the kitchen her morphed red hair and freckles did give her a striking resemblance to Charlie, "we're on holiday with our parents and some family friends in their cottage, but today we went on a picnic and the three of us wandered away from the adults and got lost. We found a road that took us here and now we're trying to make our way to the house of Remus Lupin who is…er…"

"My dad," Harry improvised for her.

"His dad, yeah," Nymphadora nodded, "he'll be able to contact our parents and tell them we're safe. Harry knows where the house is, but we don't know exactly how far away it is and we don't want to walk there in the dark."

The muggle nodded seriously, as if he didn't believe a word of Nymphadora's story, and said heavily, "alright, if you can give me directions I'll drive you there tonight. But I'd like a word with your mum and dad about parental responsibility once they've got you back."

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"Here," Harry bounced in his seat and pointed to a gravel path that lead off the main road just ahead. It was raining now and the muggle had to squint as he pulled over, his headlights illuminating the path as he passed it. Thick, stunted bushes lined the road on either side of the path, which was barely wide enough for three people to walk abreast, let alone large enough to drive a car down.

"This is as far as you need to go," Nymphadora opened the door, "thank you ever so much. We'll appreciate it for ever and ever."

"Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" the muggle got out to peer down the gloomy path. Through the pouring rain he could see the golden lights of a distant house. But the strange red-haired girl shook her head.

"Really, we can take care of ourselves from here," she promised, waving a piece of paper from her pocket, "and we've got your phone number. We'll call you as soon as we get back with our parents," she took the hand of her little 'cousin', who was eagerly straining ahead, and the three children headed away down the small path, turning once to wave before they vanished into the rain.

The muggle, Mr Granger, sighed and got back into his car. He strongly suspected the kids might be strays, runaways from home. He hoped his own daughter never got involved with tearaway children like that. It could only lead to trouble.

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As they drew nearer to the small house, Harry broke away from Nymphadora and scrambled up the path, so that she and Charlie had to run to catch up. He stood on the front step of the small cottage and tugged insistently on a large iron knocker fastened to the front door, knocking as loudly as a toddler can when he can barely reach the door knocker. The cottage itself was small and ramshackle, with sturdy brick walls and windows that were too small for an adult to climb through. Nymphadora noticed curiously that there were large bolts on the outside of the door, and a formidable brass lock.

"Moony!" Harry was calling, "Moony, open up! Hello?"

Above Harry's shouting, Nymphadora thought she heard the sound of footsteps and she found she was tensed with anticipation. She feared whatever might open that door – death eater, traitor? Was the occupant of the house friend or foe? Harry seemed assured of their loyalty but he was, after all, only four years old – and she found herself gripping Charlie's wrist in one hand and her near-useless wand in the other.

And then they heard a handle on the other side of the wood turning and the door swung open. A man stood there, lean and kindly looking. His light brown hair was flecked with grey, his chin trimmed with a short, neat beard, and his well-worn robes were patched and faded. He looked out into the rain with sleepy curiosity, at Nymphadora whose hair had returned to golden and whose freckles had vanished, at Charlie with his flaming red locks, and then down at the boy standing at his knee-level and looking up at him with a face full of delight.

He stared at Harry for what seemed, to Nymphadora, nearly a full thirty seconds. Nobody spoke, the silence broken only by the rain drumming on the tiled roof. Then the man stepped out into the rain, bent and swept Harry up in his arms. He spun around once with vitality that seemed uncharacteristic of him, and Nymphadora could not tell if there was rain on his face, or tears. Then he just stood, holding Harry with the boy's arms around his neck.

"Alive," he said, after a moment, "I could barely hope – alive!"

"It's wet out here," said Harry, tugging at his friend's beard.

"Yes, yes of course it is," he took account of Nymphadora and Charlie at last, "goodness, three in one night – come in, all of you, come in by the fire and tell me everything," his voice was sleepy and husky.

Nymphadora and Charlie looked at one another, and then, since the man was standing and watching them as if waiting for a response, Nymphadora said, "that would be wonderful, thanks," and allowed him to lead them into the house.

There seemed to be only the one room, which comprised of kitchen, dining room, lounge and bedroom all at once. The floor was unvarnished boards, and the furniture, though there seemed a lot of it in the small space, was as worn and aged as the man's robes. A fire crackled in the grate across the room, and the fireplace, topped with a near-empty box of floo powder, seemed far too big for the tiny cottage. A few scattered photographs hung from the walls, and shelves were crammed against every vertical surface, upholding magical clocks, carvings, plants, boxes, jars, household tools, more photographs in frames, and rows upon rows of books of every conceivable size and shape.

The man, Lupin, lowered Harry onto the couch in front of the fire and dragged over a rocking chair for himself, so that Charlie and Nymphadora could also seat themselves on the couch. He at once made them offers of blankets, tea, biscuits, soup and bread, and both older children, feeling their stomachs rumble, took advantage of each one. When the man brought the mugs, bowls and plates of food, Nymphadora found herself feeling guilty even as she ate. By the look of this man's abode and his clothes, they were probably eating him out of house and home.

Harry took only a biscuit and a blanket, and Lupin, nothing at all. He waited for the children to eat their fill, watching Harry with tender eyes.

At last, as Nymphadora chewed on a slice of home-baked bread and Charlie sipped at the soup, the man asked softly, "what are you doing out here?"

This question provoked answers the children were reluctant to speak of. Finally Nymphadora spoke up.

"The train was attacked," she said sadly, swallowing her bread, "the Hogwarts Express. The death eaters – I think they were looking for Harry. Lots of the kids escaped, but…not all. Charlie flew the two of us away on his broomstick, but we crashed and since then we've just been walking. A muggle gave us a ride when it got dark."

Lupin bent his head, "that is sad news," he said quietly, "the Hogwarts Express – I've long believed it was an asylum from this war, as Hogwarts itself is," he turned to Harry, "but how did you get on that train? I understand that you're bound to be talented, Harry, but surely Hogwarts is not accepting students quite so young!"

Harry shook his head, "Tonks' mum Andromeda took me there, so that I could get to Hogwarts."

"Andromeda Black? And why were you in her keeping?"

"Sirius told me she would look after me. I've been looking for you," Harry said proudly, "and I've found you now! You have to help me find Sirius."

"Sirius?" Lupin's face had grown grim.

"Yes," Harry said, apparently oblivious to the change in mood that was overtaking the young man, "yes, because he's disappeared, and he might be hurt, or dead like – like Mum and Dad!" he burst out.

Lupin looked at his young charge, "Harry, you may not understand this until you are older, but Sirius…may well be the reason your mother and father are dead."

Harry stared at him, with an expression of simple confusion.

Lupin slumped a little, "you cannot believe how glad I am to see you, Harry. When I saw the newspaper, with your house, burned…and they said your parents bodies had been found…oh," he touched his forehead, "I'm sorry, Harry, I shouldn't bring that up yet. But indeed, I can barely conceive that you are sitting before me today, alive and whole! Oh, Harry, you cannot comprehend the danger you have been in, and threats you must have avoided along the way!"

Harry shook his head, very slowly, "what did you mean about Sirius?"

Lupin put his hands together in his lap, "Harry, Sirius was…it's hard to explain. He was the only person who could reveal your parents' whereabouts to the dark lord. He has…he betrayed them to you-know-who."

The blanket slipped off Harry's shoulders, but he did not seem to notice, "that isn't right," he told Lupin, "you've made a mistake. Sirius saved me!"

This seemed to interest Lupin, "he tried to escape with you? Harry, he could not have been taking you to safety, but to his master," Lupin's face contorted at this word, as if it tasted extremely bitter, "he would have handed you over to you-know-who."

Harry stood up, "you're not listening," he said loudly. Charlie and Nymphadora watched in silence, surprised by the emotion their small friend was now displaying, "Sirius rescued me from the house! He was there – the man with the red eyes – he killed Mum!" Harry was nearly shouting now, "he killed her, and I was there, and then he came for me – but he got hurt, and fell out the window. And then Sirius was there too, and he chased the man away, I saw him! And Sirius took me to London, and told me I had to get to Dumbledore, and that Dumbledore had to see this-" he raised his hand and lifted his fringe, and the half-healed wound on his forehead seemed illuminated with a sickly red glow in the light from the fire. His impassioned speech abruptly finished, Harry stood trembling, still brandishing the scar for Lupin to see.

"My goodness," Lupin leaned forward to look at the scar, "but then…who could possibly have revealed Lily and James…" and his eyes widened, his hand flew to his mouth, "no. It couldn't be Peter. He was here, this morning, in my house!" he was gripping the arm of the rocking chair so tight his knuckles were white, "I comforted him, grieved with him! He…." Suddenly his expression became fierce, and he seemed to be speaking to himself rather than the three children, "he wanted to know if I had heard any news about Harry. He wanted to know whether Sirius had contacted me, if I had any clue about Harry's whereabouts. And it didn't even occur to me…I didn't even wonder – why he never – once – asked – whether you were alive or dead!" Fury overtook Lupin's features, "I was too sunk in guilt and anger at Sirius to even be suspicious, that Peter already seemed certain you were alive!"

Harry approached Lupin, who was visibly shaking with rage. He touched his hand gently, then, as Lupin bowed his head, Harry climbed into his friend's lap. Lupin put his arms around the small boy and began to weep.

"Forgive me, Harry," he sobbed, "and may they forgive me too."

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TBC