A/N: Ok, so this is just a little late. What's a month between updates? Finals week and Christmas were very busy. I even finally got my driver's license. Woo.

Anyway, so here's another long chapter. It's a bit wandering, and I'm not very happy with some of the dialogue, but then I never am.

Oh, and in case anyone was wondering in the last chapter, I base the Weasley's ages off of what was said in PS/SS, that Gryffindor hadn't won the Quidditch cup in the seven years since Charlie graduated. I know JKR wants the Weasleys to all be two years apart (except Ginny and Ron), but the math doesn't work. I go by what she says in the books instead of what she says in interviews, because I don't think that calculating ages and dates is really her strong point. So that makes Charlie 22 or so at this point in time and Bill 24. The twins are just finishing their first year, and Percy is finishing his third.

Spring Semester starts this week, but I think I'll be updating regularly again. I still have a few more plot points that I'd like to cover. And as always, reviews are appreciated. Concrit is adored.

A/N 2: To anyone who read the original, there's a hiatus part way down. The formatting got screwed up when I put the file onto the site. I think I've got it fixed now, though.

Chap. 10

Harry pulled on his band new coat, which was a simple brown and just a little loose. He was glad that Sirius had thought to buy him a belt, because his new trousers were a size too big, too, but the red jumper fit perfectly.

"Well. It's better than what you had, at least," Sirius said, surveying his godson.

"I think it's brilliant," Harry answered. He had to keep stretching his arms to get the cuffs of his coat off of his palms, but that was loads better than never being able to use his hands at all, or than being cold anyway because the wind came in through an over-sized collar and up from the baggy bottom.

"We'll stop in Muggle London sometime tomorrow and get you something that fits properly. I know the robes I got will do better. Muggle sizes are impossible if you're not there to try everything." Sirius shook his head.

"By winter, the coat and trousers might fit him perfectly," Remus said.

Sirius looked unimpressed by this logic. "It'll do for the evening, at least." He picked up the plastic bag from the Muggle shop. "We'll go as soon as I've changed, too."

Harry nodded and sat down on the couch, kicking his newly healed feet. The shoes were a little tight, so he was glad his feet weren't sore anymore. He looked at Remus.

"Don't you have to change, too?"

Remus smiled. "No. This is your and Sirius's celebration. I'm staying here."

"Don't you want to come?"

"You and Sirius need a chance to get to know each other again. I'm sure he intends to stuff you as full of food and ice cream and chocolate as he can manage." Remus's smile widened. "Try not to get too sick, all right?"

Harry, who had never eaten so much of anything that he got sick, nodded vaguely. Chocolate and ice cream? Tonight was going to be brilliant!

"You could still come, though, couldn't you? You're Sirius's friend, too."

"Don't bother with him," Sirius called from down the hall. A moment later, he appeared in the doorway in jeans and an old-looking leather jacket. "I've already invited him, but he'd rather play the martyr."

"Sirius—"

"Come on, Moony. It's a celebration, not bloody charity."

"That's not—"

"And we both know Lily wanted you to be the godfather."

"Really?" Harry asked.

"No, not really," Remus answered.

"Of course really," Sirius said. "The responsible Marauder. The one who would help you with your homework and teach you Latin and just be totally boring."

"Oh, ta," Remus said.

"It's true. If he weren't—"

"But I am, and that's that. Now go and eat."

"You just want us out of your house."

"Desperately. I really don't think I can bear your ugly mug much longer without vomiting. In fact, don't come back, if you can help it. Harry, you're always welcome. Just see if you can't abandon this old dog out on a street somewhere."

"You wound me, Remus. Deeply. Come along, Harry. I'll be inconsolable for days. What're you laughing at?"

Harry put a hand over his mouth to keep himself from giggling, but it didn't work very well. He'd never seen adults act like this.

"Think this is funny, do you? Think seeing your godfather deeply insulted is a laughing matter?"

Harry shook his head.

"Indeed. All right, then, Mister Moony. We'll leave. For now."

"Finally."

"Come along, Harry. We shan't bother this old, irritating, boring, small-minded, bad-mannered, old, troll-faced, dragon-tempered, stupid-like-a-Muggle-staircase, old codger, who's also a very bad host."

"Your creative insults are astounding." Remus waved Sirius and Harry out the door. It was just starting to get dark outside. "But I'm also younger than you. And don't let him make himself sick. Cheers."

Sirius turned to reply, but found the door slammed in his face. "Well! You'll regret this, Lupin!" He then looked at Harry and grinned. "Shall we, then?"

Harry shrugged, eying the covered thing that looked suspiciously like a motorbike standing a few meters away. He didn't see any car. In fact, he didn't see any road, either.

He looked at Sirius, who waved his wand and produced a large, round helmet.

"There you are. Put that on, and we'll be ready to go." Sirius flicked his wand at the motorbike, and the cover flew off, landing in a crumpled heap in the leaves.

Harry squinted at the bike, stepping closer. Something stirred in his brain, something vague and from a dream. He turned to Sirius, who was watching him.

"Does…does it fly?"

"Of course she does." Sirius considered the motorbike a moment. "You don't…remember her, do you?"

"I have a dream sometimes about a flying motorbike. And someone big. Maybe it's a memory of you."

"It's a memory all right, but not of me. The someone big is probably Hagrid."

"He's the one who took me to the Dursleys."

"That's right. I lent him my bike after…well, that night."

"Oh." Harry looked up at his godfather, who was staring at his bike, his eyes dull and far away like they had been that morning. Searching for something to break the silence, Harry asked, "How does it work? How high does it go?"

Sirius returned to the present with a shake of his head and helped Harry climb onto the back before getting on himself. "Hold on tight, mate."

He showed Harry how to start the motorbike and rev the engine. He revved it so loud that Harry winced.

"And off we go!"

Harry kept his arms tight around Sirius's waist as they took off at a steep climb to get above the trees. They skimmed the leafy tops for a moment before climbing again. Harry's stomach fluttered as the wind roared past his ears, but as Sirius turned into a steep dive, two wild shouts of excitement overcame the engine. They swooped down over the cottage, right by the window of Remus's office. Sirius took them down for two more passes before aiming for a group of lights nestled between two large hills.

Harry was disappointed to land on the road, still a few kilometers from the village, but Sirius showed no inhibitions about speed in the growing dark.

All too soon, they pulled to a halt.

"Can we do that again on the way back?" Harry asked.

"Of course."

(Note: This is officially a hiatus. The site keeps erasing my asterisks and pound signs. Please note that time has elapsed with this "break," and that this would look like a normal manuscript or novel hiatus if I were allowed to keep my punctuation or at least my spaces. Thank you, and this completes this chapter's hiatus.)

Remus had the door open before Sirius and Harry even touched down. He watched Sirius dismount and pick up Harry.

"Moony, good, you're still up. He's—"

"Of course he is. Bring him in, set him by the fire."

Remus followed them in.

Harry groaned. "I hate ice cream."

Remus tried not to smile, not when Sirius looked so distraught.

"What'm I s'posed to do, Moony? Is he—"

"He's fine, Sirius. Sit him there. Harry, if you have to throw up, try to aim for this pot." Remus set a large pot on the hearth next to Harry.

"He already did that, actually, on the way home."

"'M never eating chocolate 'gain," Harry answered. He looked a bit green, and he leaned heavily into Sirius.

Remus checked the page he'd marked in the book of household charms he had set on the coffee table, next to the pepper-up potion.

"Hold still, Harry, you'll be fine in a minute."

With a muttered charm, some of the color returned to Harry's face, and he opened his eyes, sighing in relief.

"What'd I tell you?" Sirius asked. "Moony knows all sorts of useful charms."

"I practiced it after the two of you left."

"What a coincidence that you'd need it tonight, too."

Remus rolled his eyes. "How are you feeling, Harry?"

"Better," Harry murmured sleepily, still leaning into Sirius.

"I've got some pepper-up potion, but maybe you should just go to bed."

"I'm not that tired," Harry answered, opening bleary eyes and sitting up.

"You've had a long night, and there'll be lots to do in Diagon Alley tomorrow. Surely you don't want to be tired then?"

"I won't be. I'm still okay."

"At least get ready for bed, then, so that you won't have to worry about it when you are very tired."

Harry didn't move; he watched Remus, as though trying to figure out if this was some sort of trick.

"Go on, Harry. Go clean your teeth," Sirius said.

Defeated, Harry stood up and wandered toward the bathroom.

"Maybe you should have been his godfather, after all," Sirius said.

Remus moved to sit on the couch. With the rain so close to the full moon, his joints had started to ache. "Because I can look up a charm to cure upset stomachs? You're the one he looks up to already. It's just been a long time since you were around people. It won't take you long."

"It's not people. It's children. You're a natural father."

"You let him eat too much ice cream. That's hardly the end of the world. It sounds like you've both learned your lessons with no real harm done. Don't do this to yourself for something so small."

"It's not the ice cream. You have a way with him, a way of relating to him and explaining things to him and getting him to clean his teeth."

"It's no magic talent, Sirius. You'll learn. You're already starting to learn. He's starting to trust you, and that's the most important thing. He didn't go until you told him to."

"I'll learn? Maybe. Probably. But you've got it all naturally, like you were put here to make lots of little Lupinlettes."

"Have you seen the evening edition of the Prophet?"

"What?"

"The Prophet." Remus leaned forward to pick it up from the coffee table and toss it to Sirius, who took it and read.

Harry Potter Found, Unharmed?

LONDON—Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed this afternoon that the Boy Who Lived has been found, alive and safe. The Minister would not release details about Mr. Potter's current location, and St. Mungo's Hospital has confirmed that they have not treated our young hero. Aurors who saw the boy state that he appears unharmed and in remarkably good health after more than two weeks of evading detection. Foul play has not been ruled out.

"I find it hard to believe that Potter would have gone undetected for so long on his own," said Auror Patrick Fogarty.

Chief Auror Allastor Moody told reporters, "Our job is to examine all possibilities. Nothing is ruled out. Costant vigilance is the only way to learn what happened to the Potter boy."

However, the Ministry is very vague about what those possibilities are.

Said Proteus Gotts, spokesman for Minister Fudge, "Any time something like this happens to someone as famous and important as Mister Potter, it is the job of the Ministry to know all of the facts. The Auror force were not the only people searching for the boy. We don't know that they were the only ones to have found him, either."

These ominous words only add to the questions raised while Mr. Potter was still missing. Reports indicate that Vernon Dursley, Potter's Muggle uncle, was struck by a petrification jinx preceding the boy's flight. Aurors and Healers have several theories about this.

"The magic detected by the Ministry was powerful and unfocused," explained Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt. "That's consistant with the sort of accidental magic done by children Potter's age."

Shacklebolt went on to say that Dursley admits to arguing with Potter at the time of the incident. This leads many to speculate that the jinx was simply a result of anger, which is a common producer of accidental magic.

Esther Hayden, a Healer specializing in trauma in children, said, "Many wizard children brought up in Muggle homes are frightened by their own powers. A boy of Harry Potter's age would not know what to do in such a situation. I think he ran away out of fear."

Auror Fogarty disagrees. "The whole thing stinks. One small boy as famous as Harry Potter could not disappear for two weeks without being kidnapped."

Ministry spokespeople have indicated no official position.

Sirius opened his mouth to comment, but another headline caught his eye.

Harry Potter to Live with Convicted Murderer

Auror Patrick Fogarty, who visited Harry Potter's current location early this morning, returned with the shocking news that Sirius Black, convicted murderer released from Azkaban only one week ago, is the current guardian of the Boy Who Lived. Black claims this right as Potter's godfather, a position that has not been confirmed by the Ministry.

Fogarty expressed concerns about this arrangement. "I don't care what the Healers say. No one spends that kind of time in Azkaban without going insane. And it's the ones that seem sane that you have to watch out for the most because it just means they're really good at fooling people."

The Auror went on to note that Black is currently involved with people he describes as "shady characters," though Fogarty would not give names.

This is unsettling news for many people who are already concerned about Mr. Potter's health and safety after the last two weeks. No one in the Ministry was available for comment.

Sirius threw the paper into the fire instead, then glared at it as it erupted in blue and yellow flames. A photograph of Fudge looked satisfyingly terrified as it curled and blackened.

"Would someone explain to these fuckers that I can't bloody well be a convicted murderer if I never had a fucking trial to convict me of anything?"

"But the headline 'Harry Potter to Live with Unconvicted Once-Assumed-Murderer Who Was Actually Framed' just doesn't have the same ring to it," Remus said.

"Do you think they'd publish my letter if I wrote to them?"

"I'm sure that they've got many owls from Sirius Black already. You could offer Skeeter an interview, though."

"What's Skeeter?"

Sirius looked up at Harry, who had come back and sat in the wingback chair, unnoticed.

"Rita Skeeter," Remus said. "She was a year ahead of us at Hogwarts."

"A gossipy old hag of a Ravenclaw is what she was," Sirius said. "And now she writes the Prophet's best worst drivel. The fiction she puts into the paper is absolutely fascinating." He looked at Remus. "Does Dumbledore still lace his candies with Muggle narcotics?"

"We don't know. The Prophet was barred from making any conclusive investigation."

"Ah, of course." Sirius looked back to Harry, whose eyelids had started to droop again. "Tired?"

"No."

Sirius smiled. "Well, it's late, so upstairs with you, anyway."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes."

Harry considered his godfather for a moment before standing and trudging up the stairs.

Sirius followed to find the pajamas he'd bought earlier and make sure Harry was settled for the night.