A/N: Hello from TWH! People are checking in in the other room. I'm a Slyth :( But, will indeed take pics, Mud.

And don't worry, all will be explained, in time (patience, Mud). For once, I do have some idea where this is all going, at least for the next few chapters. I hope that my backstory doesn't bore or disappoint, as it's not terribly exciting. But thank you for all of the nice reviews. I did quite like getting a bit of concrit. I realized that I lied in the prologue A/N; this story isn't necessarily as realistic as possible, only a fair sight more realistic than some of the others than I've read. Or so I'd like to think. I'm also quite sure that I've got a few holes here and there, but maybe I can sing and dance enough that they won't be too noticeable

Hello, my honey, hello my darlin', hello my clementine…

Chap. 2

Harry woke someplace warm and soft. He flexed his fingers and found them curled into thick hair. He smiled and shifted closer to the dog, moving one arm just enough to pull the blankets back up. His hand paused, and his eyes opened. He wasn't in any back alley at all.

He sat up, trying to make sense of the dim, blurry room. It smelled dusty, like his cupboard, but it was much bigger, with a window on each side and vague shapes of furniture that he couldn't discern.

He did notice that he was no longer wearing his own clothes, but instead a baggy set of striped pajamas, and it looked like someone had given him a bath while he was asleep. Even his fingernails were clean.

The dog lying next to him lifted its head to stare at him. It had floppy ears and black fur. Only now, Harry could see its pale, intense eyes.

The dog turned its head away, shifting its weight, before looking at Harry again, this time with a pair of black-rimmed glasses hanging from its mouth.

"Thanks."

Harry hadn't got the glasses to his nose before squinting at them, confused. The tape on the nosepiece was gone, but they stayed together, and the left lense no longer had a crack down the middle. He put them on and blinked around the room; they had to be his. A bookshelf and wardrobe came into focus. He must have been at the top of a house because the ceiling slanted to a peek. The far end of the long room had a stack of dusty boxes and trunks.

"What…?"

Harry found a slightly slobbery letter dropped in his lap. It had his name on it. His trembling fingers opened the paper, and he read.

Harry,

You're safe here. The cops won't find you, and the men in black coats can't catch you here. No one's going to take you to prison.

You won't remember me, but I knew you when you were a baby. I knew your parents. I've been away since they died. A lot of people thought I did something that I didn't do. But I'm out now, and I want to help you.

Nobody probably told you, but I'm your godfather.

Go downstairs, and Remus (he knew your parents, too) will make you breakfast. I'll be back soon to introduce myself properly.

Yours,

Sirius

"Sirius," Harry murmured. "That's a weird name." He looked at the dog. "Are you this Sirius person's?"

The dog barked and jumped off the bed. It stood by an opening in the floor, where Harry could see a steep set of wooden stairs, and stared expectantly.

Harry read the letter again. Safe? No cops or men in black coats? Should he believe that?

His stomach rumbled, and that settled it. He stood and followed the dog downstairs and into a sitting room unlike any he'd ever seen before. It was small and cramped. The furniture didn't match, and everything looked worn to exhaustion, with frayed cushions and scratched wood. Tall bookshelves took up one wall, and a fireplace took up the opposite. The windows were small and high, and the weak sunlight made the room feel smaller.

For all of that, though, the room was very clean. Holes in the couch had been mended, and the coffee table had nothing besides a couple of candles and one open book lying on it. The bookshelf suffered no dust, and the wood floor around the single rug looked recently swept.

"Harry?"

Harry turned and found a man wearing a strange sort of trenchcoat-bathrobe thing standing in the doorway to a narrow hall. He had light brown hair and tired eyes, but also the kindest smile Harry could remember.

"Are you Reh-mus?"

"Yes, I'm Remus. Are you hungry?"

Harry nodded, fidgetting with the letter.

"Come into the kitchen while I fix breakfast, and you can ask all the questions you want. Deal?"

All the questions he wanted? Harry nodded and followed Remus and the dog through the hall and into a small and tidy kitchen. Remus went to the refrigerator while Harry sat at the table, the dog lying by his chair.

"What's your dog's name?"

"Oh, he's not mine. He's just…a stray that comes around sometimes. His name is Padfoot."

"Padfoot," Harry said, the word tasting familiar in a formless way that evaporated the moment he thought on it.

"How do you like your eggs?"

"Scrambled. You knew my parents."

"With cheese?"

Harry nodded.

"Yes, I knew your parents. I went to school with them. Your father was one of the best friends that I ever had. So was your mother."

Someone who liked his parents? Harry felt his stomach flutter. "Do I look like them?"

Remus turned from the bowl into which he was cracking an egg. "Hasn't your aunt shown you any pictures?"

Harry shook his head. Padfoot growled.

"You look just like your father, it's amazing. But your eyes are your mother's. I'll show you, after breakfast."

"What were they like?"

"They were…they were both uncommonly kind, but fierce, too. They loved you, you know. More than anything in the world." He dropped a handful of sausauge into the hot frying pan.

Padfoot lifted his head and barked.

"If you're hungry, you can go outside and catch rabits, or come over here and fix something yourself," Remus answered.

The dog whined and laid his head on his paws again.

Harry reached down to pet his back. "What about…Sirius?"

"Sirius had to go out for the morning, but he should be back any time now."

"What's he like?"

Remus didn't answer immediately, slicing bread. Boy and dog watched and waited for a response. Then, Remus turned around.

"Sirius can't wait to meet you again. It crushed him, knowing that you had to go and live with your aunt and uncle. He was supposed to take care of you, if anything happened to your parents, and he wanted to. He would have. But you have to understand, he's been in prison for more than nine years."

Padfoot whined; Remus ignored him.

"If you hadn't run away, he might never have been released. You'll have to give him some time. He loves you like you were his own son, and he'll do anything at all for you, if you ask him. But you'll have to be patient with him. He's very intense, and I daresay he remembers a lot more about you than you remember about him."

"He said the police wouldn't find me here. I don't want to go to prison."

"No one's going to take you to prison, Harry." Remus rolled the sausauges over and flipped the eggs. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"But I…I killed Uncle Vernon." It came out a whisper, but Padfoot's head came up and Remus turned a surprised stare on him. Remus pulled the pan from the flame before coming to sit in the chair beside Harry. Padfoot growled at him.

"Is that why you ran away?" Remus shook his head. "Harry, you didn't do anything of the sort. Your uncle is fine. I talked to him myself, just last week. A few bruises is all, and those're long gone."

Harry shook his head, trying not to cry in front of the adult. "But he fell over and…and he went all stiff, and they said on TV that people go stiff when they die and…"

Padfoot sat up and nuzzled Harry's cheek. Harry wrapped his arm around the furry neck again.

"And then the men in the black coats were chasing me, so I must have done something awful. Uncle Vernon always said that people like me ended up in bad ways."

Remus shook his head again, eyes wide. "Those men in black, thank God you didn't get caught by them. Those were Death Eaters."

Harry stared at Remus, but said nothing.

"Voldemort's followers."

"What's Voledmort?"

Remus exchanged a look with the dog before answering, "Voldemort is the person who killed your parents."

"My parents died in a car crash."

Harry nearly toppled over because Padfoot stood so suddenly and snarled at Remus, who didn't react, just sort of blinked.

Before Harry could try to apologize or do anything to make things right, Padfoot had darted from the kitchen. Half a moment later, the front door opened and closed, and then a tall man wearing a trenchcoat/bathrobe thing like Remus's stode in. He had long, black hair and a pale, gaunt face.