Disclaimer: all the characters and the world they inhabit belong to JKR not me.

A/N, this chapter is a bit of a "bitty" chapter, sorry. There were several things happening in the same time period that all needed to be included.

Chapter three: A New Home

"Go 'way!" The voice was barely more than a gruff murmur, but the tapping noise didn't stop, if anything it got louder. Finally the man managed to pull himself into a rough semblance of 'awake' and stumbled to the window letting in the persistent owl. He fumbled with the letter for a short while until it finally came free. The, slightly offended, owl hooted at him reproachfully and flew off. "Beastly bird." He collapsed back onto the chair and reached for the bottle of Firewhisky on the table. Ignoring the glass he tried drinking straight from the bottle, but there were only a few drops left. Merlin, just how much did he drink last night? He wasn't normally a heavy drinker, but this last week had been rough.

First there had been the full moon. Those were always bad these days. The wolf missed his friends, missed the freedom. It had been years but the wolf still felt it like it was yesterday. He'd barely been able to stand the next day and a huge gash on his thigh was just the most serious of the many injuries the wolf had inflicted on him during the night. And then there was losing another job. He'd struggled into work as soon as he could after the full moon but as soon as he turned up he knew.

"It's not that I'm prejudiced, no of course not," said his boss, unable to even look him in the eyes, "it's just that you lied. I would have understood but if I can't trust you …" the man had trailed off. Not a very convincing tale, but just an example of one he had heard so often. "Look" the man had continued more firmly, "it's the customers I'm thinking about, what if they found out?"

He hadn't bothered responding. What was the point? It had happened before, and it would undoubtedly happen again. He had just turned round and limped home, stopping only to buy a half-dozen bottles of Ogden's on the way home. All of which he had now drunk he realised as he looked around the room. No wonder his head felt like it was going to explode and he felt like he was going to … oh no! He pushed himself upright and stumbled towards the toilet, hitting the door frame on his way and not quite reaching the desired receptacle in time. Blast! He'd have to clean that up now. Or later. Definitely later.

"I refuse!" The woman screeched at the old man in front of her. "Absolutely not!"

"You agreed once before when …"

"I didn't have much choice then did I? The brat dumped, yes dumped on my doorstep with a not saying he'd die if I didn't. Well I did and then one of your lot came and took him and I was glad to be rid. And now you want to bring him back! He lived all right so far hasn't he? And I'm not having my Duddy contaminated by that, that … you lot!"

"How is your son?"

"You leave my son alone! I won't have it! I won't have it, you hear?"

"I was merely being polite Mrs Dursley."

"Polite!" The woman screeched at the top of her voice, "What would any of you freaks know about polite?"

"Mrs Dursley!" She went quiet at the look in the old man's eyes. "Mrs Dursley, I apologise for taking up so much of your time. Fortunately I have other options, I merely thought, since you were his family that you should be given the opportunity to have a say. Since you do not wish to, I will simply wish you good day." And with that Dumbledore disappeared with a loud crack.

It wasn't until nearly midday when he stirred into consciousness again with a large groan. Just exactly why was someone playing the drums in his head? He opened his eyes. Ah yes, drink. His mouth felt like, like … oh. Yes, well, he really ought to clean that up. And soon he could smell it from here.

About an hour later, having stood in his shower for a significant period of time, he felt almost human again. He made his way back down to the kitchen and started to get rid of the debris of the last few days (he must check the calendar to find out just exactly how long it had been). There was a rolled up parchment on the table – now how had that got there? He narrowed his eyes and frowned, trying to concentrate, to remember. There had been a noise, an owl! He remembered the reproachful eyes, poor bird having to deliver to a clumsy drunken fool.

He sat heavily in one of the kitchen chairs and reached for the parchment. With a great deal of concentration he was able to make the words come into focus.

"My dear Remus,

I need your urgent assistance. Could you spare me some time to visit as soon as possible? I'll explain when you get here.

Yours in appreciation,

AD

OK. Each of the words made some sort of individual sense but, try as he might, put together it felt like meaningless dribble in his head. Coffee. That's what I need. Coffee. Three cups later and the note made much more sense. He went back upstairs to get himself ready for the journey. No way was he going to attempt to apparate in this condition. But he had a plan. Floo. Diagon Alley. Hangover potion. Hogwarts. Perfect. Flawless. He went back downstairs. Ah. Flaw. Trousers. Definitely trousers come first. He turned round. Damn, stairs again. For a moment he considered, were trousers really that vital? Fortunately (well fortunately for Albus Dumbledore at the very least) he decided that they probably were and started to wearily climb the stairs. And, he thought with the air of someone receiving a sudden revelation, underpants wouldn't actually hurt either.

Once back in his bedroom he contemplated his trousers for a while. Now this was easy. He'd done it before. But how? After falling over twice he remembered: one leg at a time was probably easier. Blast, the underpants should probably have been first.

"He's alive!" Remus couldn't name the feeling: shock, surprise, excitement, joy, hope, disbelief? It was a mixture of all these things "Harry. Alive." He paused to take this in. Then suddenly "How is he? Was he hurt? How did you find him? What about Sirius? Where is he?"

Dumbledore put up his hand to stop the flow of questions. "First, he seems fine, a little lonely and frightened, but fine none-the less. His location was on his Hogwarts letter – how I don't know. There must have been anti-detection wards on his home but they appear to have been taken down shortly before the letters were due to go out. Taken down deliberately I might add." He paused. "As for Sirius, well I have a question for you."

"Of course Professor. I'll do anything to help." Remus felt as if he was alive for the first time in nearly ten years. "Anything!"

"That's a very rash promise to make to me!" Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled at him. "Fortunately I will try not to take too much advantage of it! Was Peter Pettigrew an Animagus?"

Whatever Remus had been expecting, that wasn't it. "Professor why … no never mind. Yes he was. His Animagus form was a rat. Wormtail we called him."

"And the others?"

"Prongs, James, was a stag." Remus paused and lowered his eyes. "Black is a dog. A large black dog."

"Harry believes, undoubtedly because Black told him so, that Pettigrew was the Potter's secret keeper, and that he framed Black by blowing up the street, cutting off his finger and transforming into his Animagus form."

"Peter! That's impossible! That's …" Remus paused. Peter couldn't have, James couldn't have, he'd have known. Someone would have said something to him. Peter couldn't have stayed in hiding for so long. It was impossible. Sirius managed, a sneaky part of his mind reminded him. But Sirius was so much cleverer than … But Sirius had a small boy with him and he still managed. Peter could have done it, if he'd stayed in his rat form. "He …But …" Dumbledore watched Remus closely as the thoughts play out in his head. "I suppose … I mean, he could …"

"It's a possibility isn't it?" Dumbledore seemed to know exactly what Remus had been thinking. "Of course, it might not have happened but …"

"But it could have." Remus finished. "I suppose it could have." He paused, "Where's Harry now?"

"At this very moment, he's down in one of the guest suites packing his things." The two men sat in silence for a while. Remus had just opened his mouth to ask if it was possible he could see Harry when Dumbledore spoke, "I have something I need your help with Remus. Something that, under the circumstances, I feel you would be the best person to do." Remus looked up from the patch of floor he'd been examining, "You would need to get a leave of absence from work …"

"That," said Remus wryly, "will not be a problem."

"I've strengthened the wards around the house."

"Right Professor"

"And if there is any problem, any hint at all of a problem …"

"The boy will Portkey out of here straight to Hogwarts. Yes Professor. Don't worry, we'll be fine."

"I'm sure you will. I have the utmost confidence in you."

"Thank you Professor."

"No. Thank you." And with that, Dumbledore apparated out of the small remote house.

Harry was sat in his new bedroom, looking around at the flowery wallpaper and shabby, overstuffed, furniture. There was a knock at the door. "Come in." He said quietly.

"Hello Harry, I'm just making some tea."

"Thank you. I'll be right down."

"We'll do something about this room, I'm sure it's not quite to your taste. Perhaps some posters or something?"

Harry smiled. "That'd be good. Thanks Mrs Figg."

"My pleasure Harry, my pleasure."

A/N OK, I admit it, I was deliberately trying to fool you. Did it work?