Disclaimer: I don't own Remus. If I did Tonks wouldn't get an elbow in edgeways. He would be mine, all mine, mwahaha! I don't own Harry or Petunia or Dudley or Dedalus. I don't even own the violet top hat.

Dear James,

I saw your son today.

I shouldn't have gone. It was against Dumbledore's orders- although if Heaven doesn't change people too much that won't shock to you. I've been out of work again, which isn't much of an excuse but being at a loose end, well, it does things to you. You know. I keep remembering how things used to be, the five of us- You, Lily, Peter, Black and I - I keep thinking it was perfect. Of course, it can't have been. Not if Black had already decided… It's strange I really can't believe it after all this time. That you are dead and by his hand. We must have been walking around in blindfolds all those years or else he was wearing such an impenetrable mask… can you imagine? Impetuous, impulsive Sirius Black, who always wore his heart on his sleeve, who despised trickery and slyness. That can't all have been a lie. He can't have been deceiving us, even then. But which of my memories were lies and which were true? The false Sirius merges imperceptibly with the boy we knew. When did he change? Why?

It's true you saw more of Black than I did in that last year. Regrettably. He must have told you I was the spy. I see it now. It's the only thing that makes sense of that sudden distance that grew between us that year. At the time I thought, forgive me, I thought that perhaps when you had Harry… I thought perhaps you and Lily had thought better of your acquaintanceship with a werewolf. And of course, Peter followed your lead as he always did. And Sirius… I was surprised at Sirius. But he was Harry's godfather after all. What a fool I was! I should have known you wouldn't treat me like that. I still remember the day you found out, all of you - you were the first one to take a step towards me. The first to break that hushed silence, to put a hand on my arm and tell me not to be daft, you'd stand by me. How could I have thought you'd turn away from me without a word of explanation? I should have talked to you, should have told you whatever Black said was lies- perhaps then you wouldn't have trusted him when the time came. Perhaps you would still have survived.

But no. I was too proud to chase after the friend who rejected me and now three lives have been lost. Because of me. Perhaps after all a werewolf doesn't have to bite to spread its curse. And I know what you'd say. I'm being morbid. There wasn't anything I could've done, not really. You'd never have believed me over Black. You loved him, like the brother you never had. I remember you telling me that. The brother I never had. I was foolish enough to feel almost jealous – a strange irrelevant stab of pain. Of course I see now how lucky I was – the friendship you and Peter gave me was the deepest, the most precious thing… and I won't ever know such friendship again. I was lucky to know it at all. I am lucky.

My mind runs in circles these days, like the wolf in the Shrieking Shack. When I woke up in the morning there was a thick tangle of footprints on the dusty floor. But I am rambling. I wanted to tell you about Dedalus Diggle. You remember Dedalus? Tiny man with a liking for top hats. He's one of the few of the old Order who still keeps in touch. People want to forget the War. You can't blame them.

Anyway, Dedalus asked me if I wanted to go for a walk with him and of course I did. It had been ages since I'd seen anyone from the Order. We walked around Diagon Alley and of course he began talking about you, and about little Harry. Together we worked out he must be eight years old now, eight years and seven months. And then Dedalus suggested we go to see him- of course, I laughed but he only smiled and said he thought he knew a way.

We Apparated together to Little Whinging in Surrey - apparently that is where Petunia lives now, with her husband. I am ashamed to say we spent an entire morning loitering in a muggle supermarket. I should have turned back. I know I should but - I kept thinking about you and wondering whether Harry would look like you did at that age and whether he still had Lily's eyes. I saw him so seldom as a baby.

When at last he came, we almost missed him. Dedalus suddenly grabbed my arm and dragged me behind a shelf.

"There!" he hissed in my ear, pointing over the top of the selection of pasta sauce jars. In the next aisle a skinny woman, blonde hair pulled back in a bun, was straining to push a trolley in which a boy sat, languidly pulling items from the shelves and piling them up around him.

"Are you sure you want to get Cocoa Pops, Diddums?" The woman sounded slightly out of breath. "I thought you liked Shredded Wheat…"

"I want Cocoa Pops!" The boy commanded.

I'd forgotten Petunia had a son of her own. She had changed a great deal since the last time I'd seen her. She looked older, harder and the pulled back hair didn't suit her at all. I looked around for Harry but I couldn't see him. I only had a limited view of the aisle, and I was cricking my neck as it was. Dedalus sniffed impatiently, and tugged at my coat sleeve.

"Come on. We can't see anything from here." He said and before I could stop him he had ducked down the aisle and into the next. When I followed him, I swear, I only meant to bring him back, to stop him from breaking all of Dumbledore's strictures laid down for Harry's safety. But when I entered the aisle I froze. I saw him, James. And he looked so much like you: that thin pale face, chaotic hair, glasses reflecting the white glare of the supermarket light. It was the same face I had seen all those years ago on the Hogwarts Express.

But he didn't walk like you, James. He bent his head a fraction as though fearing a reproof, and he scrunched himself up as though not wanting to occupy too much space. And then he looked up, eyes open and curious, Lily's eyes. His mouth fell open too when he saw Dedalus (it was the hat, I suppose.)

Dedalus seemed just as dumbstruck to be confronted with the Boy Who Lived in the flesh and for a moment they simply gaped at each other. Then, embarrassingly, Dedalus sunk into a deep bow, his top hat tipping and then tumbling off his head.

"Boy! Why are you dawdling? You –" Petunia Dursley met my eyes, and blanched. She looked from me, to Harry, to Dedalus and back again.

"Come away!" She grabbed Harry and, with surprising strength lifted her heavy looking son out of the shopping trolley. "We're leaving."

Her son howled, complaining about the abandoned cocoa pops but Lily's sister ignored him. She yanked both boys away with her, down the aisle leaving her shopping behind.

Harry looked back, as his aunt pulled him away, at Dedalus and there was something oddly yearning in his glance, as if he were memorising his face. He didn't even glance at the greying man in the ash coloured coat who stood by Dedalus' side. If he had I think he would have seen his own expression, mirrored in mine. Your son, James. And he isn't happy.

I will have to tell Dumbledore. The child is not happy. It isn't right. What was that Dursley woman doing, putting her son in the trolley and leaving Harry to trail behind? To show such open signs of preference is unforgivable. There must be somewhere else Harry can go. There must be.

Of course Dumbledore will ask how I know this and I will have to admit I broke his orders. You would want me to do it, I know. And I will. I will. Oh, James if only you were here, you and Lily, it is so hard to be strong when you're alone.

I must go. This letter is fruitless. I must see Dumbledore. I must beg him to help your son.

There seems no fitting way to end this letter. I suppose I must just say in the old way.

Farewell, Prongs. May your pranks be fruitful and may your marauding nights be bright.

I miss you.

Remus