A/N: Hey gang! Hope you enjoy!

Sirius reads the letter over a few times, rubbing his thumb along the words. Fuck, he misses Moony. He hands the letter over to Harri, letting her read it for herself.

"Who's HM?" she asks.

"Er, it means the headmaster," he explains. A cryptic Dumbledore was never a safe Dumbledore. Sirius can't count how many times he'd landed in detention after an enigmatic phrase and a twinkle of his eyes.

"Of the magic school?" she asks, cocking her head. "Of Hogwarts?"

"Harri, why don't you see if there's any paper and a quill, yeah?" he says, gently pushing her out of the kitchen. "We need to write Moony back." Harri nods, heading off in search of paper. The owl hoots again, sticking its other foot out. Attached to it is a leather pouch. Sirius takes it, letting the contents spill over the table. He's never understood why muggles use paper money as well as coins, but he counts it up, organizing it in neat stacks. In total, they'd been sent a hundred pounds.

This probably means Dumbledore was suspicious, and that Moony can't feasibly move until there's a new lead. Sirius drops his head in his arms, groaning. Either they wait until there's been a "sighting" or Sirius will have to go out and create one for himself.

"I found some," Harri announces, coming back into the kitchen with Kreacher in tow. He lumbers off to sit in the corner, mutter darkly. "Thank you, Kreacher."

"Thanks, Hazza," he mumbles, forcing himself to sit up. It was important not to startle her, lest she do a runner. Sirius knows he would've at her age. "What shall we write back?"

"Tell him we miss him," she says, pushing a quill and inkpot towards him. "And thanks for the money. And that we hope he can come visit soon."

Sirius scrawls down whatever she rattles off, passing the quill over for Harri to sign her name. She does it carefully, concentrating hard. Sirius smiles a little when he notices how similar her handwriting is to Lil's.

Sirius takes the letter back to the owl, carefully typing the sheaf of parchment to its leg.

"Go on back where you came from," he says.

"How does the owl know where he's going?" Harri asks.

"Dunno," Sirius admits, startled a little by the question. It was just one of those things that he'd just accepted without thinking too hard about. It's a very Lily thing to do, to question every little thing. "Maybe they're smarter than we give them credit for."

"Maybe," she says, clearly not pleased with the non-answer. Still, she doesn't press him.

"Kreacher supposes the Brat and Master want their tea?" That awful croaking grates on his nerves, but before Sirius can snark off an answer, Harri beats him to it, thanking Kreacher and offering up her help. Kreacher's leathery lip curls and he waves her off, muttering to himself about nosy brats.

Harri and Sirius help themselves to a breakfast of tea and biscuits, leaving the last packet for lunch. Eventually, he'll have to go out to get them more supplies, but Sirius is fine with putting that off for a few hours.

To kill time, Harri and Sirius tackle the library. Sirius rolls his eyes at that awful tapestry, noticing the burn mark where his name used to be. Maybe it's morbid curiosity, but something propels him to inspect the tapestry further.

Narcissa has a child now, a boy called Draco, about the same age as Harri. They'll be in the same year at school. If the boy's anything like his father, he'll be entirely insufferable.

"Is this your family?" Harri asks. She's inspecting the tapestry too, and Sirius can't help but chuckle at the way she struggles to pronounce some of the more… eccentric names.

"Did you know we're related too?" Sirius says. "A relative of mine married your granddad's younger brother."

"Really?" Harri lights up at the idea, tracing the thin gold lines reverently. "Does everyone have one of these?" Sirius snorts, shaking his head.

"My family's always taken pride in their so-called 'pure' lineage," he explains. "Them, and a few other tossers, do this. Most people do keep geneology books though."

"Is there a book for my family?" Harri asks. "Aunt Petunia says her parents died a long time ago and that she doesn't speak with anyone else."

"At your grandparent's house," he says wistfully. Cor, he misses that house. He misses the haphazard collections of books, mismatched furniture, walls crammed full of portraits. Mostly, he misses the Potters. Euphemia, who took him in without question and treated him better than he'd ever dreamed. Fleamont, who could always be counted on for a smile and a wink, just as mischievous as his son.

"Do you think we could go?" she asks, not quite meeting his eyes.

"I promise that as soon as it's safe to, I'll take you," he says, resolutely. She grins at him, pleased. They peel themselves away from the tapestry, focusing on the task at hand. Harri tackles the dusting while Sirius culls the shelves, ridding them of the darker books.

His plan is to burn them, but Kreacher appears rather suddenly, shrieking at the 'defilement' of the library. Harri takes pity on him, forcing Sirius to give him to the lot. He scowls as Kreacher slinks away, toting the sack of books.

After, they polish off the rest of the biscuits and milk. Sirius parks Harri in one of the armchairs with Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland and Quidditch Through the Ages. They might as well do something interesting while they're stuck here, and it really doesn't get more interesting than quidditch.

Sirius hunts around for Kreacher, finally finding him sobbing into one of his mother's old robes, tucked away in the armoire in his parents' room.

"Get out here," he says, rapping on the door. Kreacher tumbles out, glaring up at him, tears and snot flowing freely.

"What does Master require?" he sneers.

"I need you to disguise me," he says. "I need to go out and look unrecognizable." Kreacher scowls, waving a limp hand in his direction. Sirius tries not to squirm as he's transfigured. He looks into the grimy mirror, surprised. His hair is short and blonde, he's much tanner, shorter, and filled out. His eyes, however, remain their own steely grey.

He makes his way downstairs, stopping in the kitchen to shove the money in his pockets, then pokes his head into the parlor. Harri starts when she sees him, dropping her book.

"Padfoot?" she asks, a touch nervous.

"Yeah, pet," he affirms. "I have to go out, to do the shopping, but I'll be back as soon as possible, alright? Just stay here, and if anyone comes by, take Kreacher and tell him to hide you until I come back, so no one can find you."

"Alright," she says. "Will you get more biscuits?"

"Don't you think you ought to eat some fruits and vegetables?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow. Harri blushes.

"Them too, I suppose," she says.

Sirius deliberates for a moment, then plucks his wand from his pocket. He's been careful not to use magic at all, to have Kreacher cast any spell they need, but just in case Kreacher decides not to obey Harri, he presses into her hand.

"I don't want you playing with it, alright?" he says sternly. Harri looks up at him, wide-eyed. "It's only for life and death emergencies."

"I understand," she says softly. She grips the wand, and her expression changes, so Sirius is confident she'll be able to wield it. Fuck, she looks like James.

He shakes his head, needing to focus, then heads out, pockets full of the muggle money.

Dot has stopped believing his excuses.

Remus stalks through the bookshop, trying not to let his worry or annoyance get the best of him. The new moon is rising, and he's already exhausted. That, and the residual stress from Dumbledore's impromptu visit create for an interesting mood.

"Mr. Lupin?" Remus forces himself to take a deep breath before he faces Dot.

"Yes, Dot?" He stops short, blood draining from his face entirely. There's a woman at the front of the shop, speaking to Dot. Not just any woman.

Minerva McGonagall.

"Mr. Lupin," she says, voice as crisp as ever. He swallows hard, reminding himself that he is not a little boy anymore, and in all technicality, she can't actually do anything to him. "I was hoping for a word."

"Er…" He looks to Dot, who's only eyeing Professor McGonagall's robes. Thankfully, Dot gets the message and smiles waving them off.

"Oh, I don't mind," she says jovially. "We're not dreadfully busy." Professor McGonagall eyes the empty shop, one eyebrow arching.

"Professor, if you would follow me," he mumbles. Remus tries to take deep breathes as inconspicuously as possible. He leads her to the back offices, offering her the armchair. "Can I make you a cup of tea?"

"No thank you," she says curtly, looking around. Suddenly, Remus is shameful and deeply uncomfortable. He knows she could only be here to talk about Padfoot, but there's a part of him that wants to assure her that this isn't what he's doing with his life, not really.

"Mr. Lupin," she starts, eyeing him critically. "You're aware of certain situations, I'm sure."

"I know about Black," he says, working to keep his voice and face impassive. Actually, he's a brilliant liar. He always has been. It was his one true talent. He could talk the four of them out of almost any situation. He was the best liar of the lot.

Well.

He supposes in all actuality, Peter had been the best liar. He tries not to dwell on that.

"I know you've spoken to Headmaster Dumbledore," she says. "But I've just come from—well, assessing certain situations, and I need to ask you again if you have any information about Black's whereabouts."

"I don't, professor," he says. She scrutinizes him, disbelieving.

"Very well," she says. "Then, there's another thing you ought to know before the Daily Prophet blares it all over their front page."

"Professor?" They've caught him. They've caught him and they're chucking him right back into Azkaban. He won't last, Remus knows he won't. He'll go mad and then he's have lost Sirius forever.

Harri.

Merlin, what will they do with Harri?

"Harri Potter is missing," she says, eyes sharp and trained on his face.

"Missing?" He cocks his head, letting concern seep into his face. "Professor, I don't understand—"

"Harri Potter," she repeats, eyes narrowing just a touch, like a cat zeroing in on a mouse. "Is missing from her home. She was staying with her Aunt and Uncle, but when I went to check, there was no sign of her."

"Surely, she's there? She can't have gone anywhere else, could she?" Panic is terribly easy to fake when it's there inside you, and right now, Remus has a fair bit to play on. The good thing is she seems to have not spoken to Petunia or her husband, so she can't know the truth. Still, Remus cannot rule out the possibility.

"Lupin, a child's life is at risk," she says. She thinks Sirius must've kidnapped her to do something dark and death eater-y, and frankly, the insinuation makes him angry. How many hours had Sirius spent in McGonagall's office, doing everything he could to avoid turning into his father? How could she think he could betray James and Lily like that, put his own godchild on the chopping block?

(How could Remus believe it himself?)

"I'm sorry professor," he says in the same concerned voice. "But please, tell me if there's anything I can do to help." McGonagall closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, sagging a little. Hot shame rushes through him for making her feel like that, but he holds his resolve. He has to.

"Right," she says, clipped. "Thank you, Mr. Lupin."

For the rest of the day, Remus runs through scenarios. The next plausible step would be to try and find the Black Family home, but it's under so many wards, it's nearly impossible to find without a Black to lead you.

As soon as the day finishes, he rushes to close the shop, nearly ejecting poor Dot from her own establishment. He barely listens when she chides him, locking the door and leaving her there on the doorstep, sprinting back to his flat like it's on fire.

Once he's inside, he lets himself breath, looking around for parchment and quills. There's a tap on his window, and he whirls to find Hipolito, the owl he'd hired waiting outside. He nearly weeps at the sight, rushing to let him in.

"Bloody brilliant owl," he mutters, filling a teacup with water. He plucks the reply off his foot while he drinks, unfurling it.

Dear Moony,

We miss you very much. Thank you so much for the money and we hope you can visit very soon.

Love,

Harri

P.S.

Stay safe and send word. Will meet you at the old flat.

-Sirius

It's not much, and it certainly doesn't say anything about their safety. Groaning, he rips off a scrap from the letter and scrawls two words on it.

Minnie Knows

He ties it right back on, trying to gently nudge the owl back on his way. He looks at him reproachfully, decidedly unimpressed.

"Just one more trip," he pleads. "I'll even pay in advance. Just drop it off and you can go on your way." The owl hoots his assent and Remus hurries to his room to unearth a galleon. Grimacing—really, post prices are becoming nearly unbearable—he tucks the galleon in the pouch and send him on his way, hoping against hope that Harri and Sirius are alright.

A/N: Alrighty, so a little tension! Let me know what you thought and see you next week!