A/N: Hey gang! Look at me, putting updates back up on time! Anyways, enjoy the precursor to the plot kicking in!

Diagon Alley is the coolest place Harri has ever been to. Padfoot leads her to a tiny, decrepit pub deep in London. Harri marvels at it, stunned at all the wizards around. Some read huge books with titles Harri's never seen in a normal—muggle, she supposes—library. Some sit in groups, talking and laughing as they eat. Dishes float around, drinks whizz to people's tables, and Harri watches it all with wide eyes.

"Keep up, now love," Padfoot says, grabbing her hands. He leads her through the pub to the second door, which is just a dead end. Harri quirks her eyebrow.

"Er, let's hope this doesn't set off the Trace," Padfoot mutters, fishing out his wand. He taps on the bricks and suddenly, they begin to shift. Harri gasps, hurrying forward only to be caught by Padfoot's hand.

"Hold on, let it finish," he says. Harri squirms, waiting for the wall to finish its transition to archway. Once completed, Harri all but drags him across.

"Whoa!" she gasps, watching the crowd of busy wizards and witches bustling about. The building is tall, stacked on top of each other almost precariously, but none waver. Harri reads as many signs as she can see. Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, Goodwin's Apothecary, Flourish and Blots, and so many more. She sorely wished she had about eight more eyes to take it all in.

"Where should we start?" Padfoot asks her, grinning.

"Er…" Harri looks around, deciding on Gamble and Japes. It looked just as good as any to start.

"Merlin, I haven't been in ages," Padfoot says wistfully. "It was your dad's favorite place, well, that and Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor."

"Really?" Harri asks eagerly, tugging him along. Padfoot tells her all about the hours they'd put in at the shop, chasing each other around, "sampling" the products. Harri peruses every isle, peers in every crate. It's a combination toy and joke shop, and they've got something for everyone. Padfoot points out his favorites and she laughs herself silly at the stories he tells, especially the dungbombs-in-the-greenhouses story.

The head into the bookstores next, starting with Flourish and Blots. It's a bit like a mad scientist's office, she thinks, the way books are stacked everywhere, crammed into shelves. There are even some that float about lazily in the air. Harri snatches at one, plucking it off its course.

"Arithmancy for beginners," she reads aloud, flipping through the pages. It looks rather complicated, strange numbers and symbols, so she lets it go, watching in awe as it resumes its round about the store. Padfoot picks up a book about potions, and another about wards, paying extra to have the man package them all up.

Next, they make their way into the apothecary. It sort of smells in there, but Harri doesn't mind, not when there's so much to look at. She looks through the vials, plays with the barrels, dragging the scoops through them. Padfoot argues with the woman at the counter about prices— "fifteen sickles for a measly little bouquet of aconite? Are you mad?"

Padfoot gives in, however, and they leave with jars, and boxes, and paper bags full of herbs. Harri assumes it's nothing to cook with.

Padfoot takes her for ice cream, and he's absolutely right, it's the best she's ever had. That's not saying too much, considering she count on one hand the number of times she's been given ice cream, but she's willing to bet it's the best in the world.

"Shall we to Quality Quidditch supplies next?" Padfoot asks. Harri's too busy devouring her cone—raspberry and chocolate with chopped nuts—but she nods. "Or the stationary shop? I do more parchment…"

She's not paying much attention to where he takes her, just watching people go by. A huge crowd, a bunch of teenagers dash past and Harri's caught in the throng. She's jostled around, loosening her grip on Padfoot's hand until she loses it altogether.

Harri turns this way and that, but she can't see him. Panic starts to swell in her chest, but she pushes it down. She needs to think. What was the store he'd said?

"Bill, can't we go into look at brooms?" a boy whines.

"Quality Quidditch Supplies!" a girl says. Yes! That had been the place! Harri watches them, a group of four, who were clearly siblings, if their matching red hair and freckles were anything to go on.

"I do need handle polish," another boy remarked to the oldest. The oldest, Bill, checked his watch.

"Mum said noon on the dot," he tells them. "If we're late, even by a minute, it's on Charlie's head."

"Hey!" Charlie, a stocky looking older boy, protests, but he's cut off, when the youngest two dash off into a shop. "Ginny! Ron! Hold on!"

Harri follows them inside, hoping to find Padfoot. Instead, all she sees are broomsticks. They're beautiful, too, so many in different designs and colors. She gasps softly. In the middle of the store, on a pedestal, sits a gleaming broomstick of dark wood, it's bristles slicked back.

"Wicked, isn't it?" says a boy. Harri turns to find one of the boys—the youngest one—standing next to her.

"Yeah," she agrees. "Do you play quidditch?" She's never met anyone who played, but Padfoot's told her plenty about her dad's games.

"No, but I will when I get to school, like my brother Charlie!" he says, pointing out his brother. "He's captain, youngest one yet!"

"My dad was captain when he went to school, too," Harri tells him excitedly.

"Cool," he says. "I'm Ron, by the way."

"I'm… er, Hedwig," Harri says. Ron gives her a funny look, but nods.

"You have any brothers or sisters in school?" he asks. "They might know mine."

"No, just me," she says. "Say, you didn't see in a man walk in here, did you? Short-ish with blond hair? I'm looking for my dad."

"No, sorry," Ron says with a frown. "Come on, Bill will know what to do." Harri follows him along to where his older brothers are looking through the racks of care supplies.

"Who's that?" the girl asks, shoving her red hair out of her face.

"This is Hedwig," Ron says. "She's lost her dad."

"Was he a sadist then?" Charlie asks with an amused chuckle. "Name like that, you'd think—"

"Charlie, shut up," Bill says sharply. He turns to her, softening. "Hedwig, was it?" Harri nods, heat flaring into her cheeks. She doesn't know what sadist is, but it doesn't sound good. Perhaps she ought to have picked a better name.

"You can come with us," Bill decides. "Mum will know what to do." Harri hesitates; if she goes with them, they might find out who she is, and tell, which would land Padfoot right back in jail. On the other hand, she's entirely lost, and they seem nice. Harri nods.

Charlie scoops up the girl and deposits her on his shoulders. Bill takes hold of Ron's hand, and before she can react, Ron takes hold of hers.

"So, you don't lost again," he says by way of explanation. They make their way back to the pub, and Bill does the tapping on the wall, opening up the door. They troop into the pub—the Leaky Cauldron, Padfoot had something about it, but she hadn't been listening—to find the rest of Ron's family. There are three more boys with their mum, a pair of twins and a thin, reedy looking boy with the same coloring.

"Who's that?" one of the twins asks.

"Oh, dear, Bill, what's this?" their mum asks, looking concerned at Harri.

"This is Hedwig, said she couldn't find her dad," Bill explains. Nervous, Harri drops Ron's hand.

"Poor little dear!" she cries. "Are you alright? Have you been alone long?"

"No, not long," Harri says. "We were supposed to go to the quidditch shop, but then I lost him, and didn't seen him in the shop."

"Right, right," she mutters to herself. "What was your name, again?"

"Hedwig," she says.

"Har—er, Hedwig!" Moony's voice rings out before Ron's mum can make much of that, and Harri absolutely sags in relief to see him.

"That's your dad?" Ron's mum asks, a bit skeptical. Thankfully, Moony hurries over before she has to answer.

"Alright?" he asks. He looks to family Harri's with and smiles. "Hi, I'm, er, John Moon, I'm Hedwig's uncle."

"My dad's brother," Harri pipes up. At that, Ron's Mum relaxes.

"Poor dear got separated," she says. "Actually, my son, Bill found her."

"Thanks so much," Moony says. He looks odd, actually, and his smile is a bit wrong. Harri recognizes it after a moment. It's the same smile Aunt Petunia gets when she can't yell at her in public. "My brother can be abysmally irresponsible." Ron's mum frowns at that, but she smiles at Harri.

"Stay safe, dear," she says, and Harri promises she will. She turns to Ron.

"Bye then," she says, a bit forlorn. He was nice.

"Bye," Ron echoes. "Maybe I'll see you at school someday?"

"Yeah," Harri says, smiling wide. "See you!" With that, Harri follow's Moony out of the pub, to the muggle side. He's silent and Harri fidgets. She'll be locked in her room for sure, probably without meals. She was so stupid to lose Padfoot like that!

Padfoot waits in an alley as Padfoot-the-dog, and he barks excitedly to see Harri, dashing up to lick her face, tail wagging. Her worries melt away and she throws her arms around him.

"Right, let's go," Moony says, holding his wand aloft. Padfoot turns back to human and scoops Harri up, instructing her to tuck her face into his neck. Then, he does something odd. He steps close to Moony and hugs him tight. Before Harri can comment, they turn on the spot and there's a loud crack before she starts to feel strange.

It happens fast. Frist she can't breathe, then she feels like she's being squeezed everywhere, and then it all stops. She slumps against Padfoot breathing hard

"What was that?" she asks, lifting her head. To her absolute surprise, they're back on the stoop of Grimmauld Place. "We're home!"

"We'll talk inside," Moony says sharply, shoving open the door and disappearing down the hallway.

Sirius sets Harri down gently, sending her on ahead. She definitely didn't need to hear this.

"Is Moony very angry with us?" she asks in a soft whisper. He swallows hard, trying for a smile.

"Just me, I think," he says. "Go on to your room for a bit. I need to talk to Moony."

"But it's my fault," Harri protests. He shakes his head, pointing upstairs.

"Sweetheart, it was all my fault," he explains. "You are not in any trouble, I promise you." A worried frown mars her little face, but she goes. Swallowing hard, Sirius heads into the kitchen, where Remus is angrily making a pot of tea while Kreacher glares at him from the corner.

"Look, it's my fault—"

"I know." Curt, but not loud. This would be bad.

"Harri—"

"Is a child," he finishes. "She cannot make her decision's, she's only seven."

"I know," Sirius parrots back, anger rising. He knows he's being irrational, that it is his fault, but he's never taken to discipline.

"How could you take her out?" Remus snarls, whirling around. "Knowing everything that we're risking to keep you safe, to keep her safe—"

"What the fuck do you think you're risking?" Sirius snarls back. It's him trapped here, day in and day out, pacing a slightly bigger cage. It's him breathing in the same air, gasping because his lungs won't fill all the way. Remus gets to go free, gets to keep his little job, gets to use magic—

"You think I'm not risking anything?" Remus hisses. "Me? If I'm caught helping you, I can't even imagine what they'll do to me!"

Sirius doesn't have anything to say to that, but his anger is deep—not just at Remus for yelling, but for everything. He seethes, absolutely shaking with his rage. Remus shuts his eyes and sucks in a deep breath.

"Today was bad," he says, forcing a calm. "If the charm wore off, Harri Potter would've been revealed in the streets, ripe for anyone to snatch up for the reward."

"What reward?" Sirius retorts, anger still prevalent. Remus gives him a weird look.

"Sirius, it's all over the prophet—"

"I know, about how I've kidnapped her—"

"No! The ministry's put together a search party, and they've got a decent reward going for anyone who brings Harri in unharmed. Didn't you read the paper this morning?" In truth, he hadn't. He'd already been spiraling when he woke, and the paper seemed incredibly trivial. Another crucial mistake.

"I didn't, I didn't know," he stammers, swallowing hard. Remus shakes his head, looking fearfully up.

"We can't tell her," he says softly. "You know what James would've done, and she'll do the same." James would've marched right in and turned himself in if it meant that he could save Sirius, and Harri has proven over and over again that she truly is his daughter.

"What do we do?" Sirius asks miserably. He knows the answer. More waiting here, safe and hidden, in the house where he first learned that parents didn't always love their children, that fathers weren't afraid to sink their fists in their son's stomach, over and over until he cried out for mercy.

"We can't live like this," Remus decides. "We need help."

"Help? Who in Merlin's name is going to help us?" he asks. There's a strange look in Remus's eyes. If they'd been in school, it definitely would've resulted in detentions for a month. "Remus—"

"We need an ally," he says abruptly. "Someone that people trust and will trust us."

Sirius realizes what he means in an instant, and frankly, he's torn between fear that this will result in his direct imprisonment and, for the first time in a while, hope.

Late August finds Albus Dumbledore a very busy man. There are nine days until term starts again, and just yesterday, Louvenia Templeton has announced this will be her last year teaching muggle studies. She's decided to live with her children in America, to study the muggles there. To make matters worse, Fawkes has begun molting, a sure sign of rebirth. He will be particularly difficult in the coming weeks.

Currently, he's sitting at his desk going over the final list for the upcoming class of first years. He ticks through, making sure each child has responded. Once he's finished verifying Weasley, Percival's attendance—no doubt a Gryffindor—an owl hoots outside his open window.

"Ah," he says gesturing for the owl to come in. "What do you have for me? Fawkes, if you wouldn't mind moving aside to let this poor fellow rest, he looks as if he's had a very long flight." Fawkes gives him a reproachful look, but steps aside.

Albus unfurls the sheet of parchment tied carefully to the owl's leg, apologizing for the intrusion.

Professor Dumbledore,

I know that the last time we spoke, I told you I had no idea about Sirius and Harri, but things have changed. I believe we can trust you and I hope you can trust me enough to give us a chance. Please let me know if you'd be willing to listen to us. I think you'd understand once you've heard.

Thank you,

Remus Lupin

Albus reads the letter a few times, but the words don't change. Remus had been quite convincing the last time they'd spoke, and his mind—Albus had only probed gently, just to check that he was being truthful—had been sincere. What a clever boy.

Harri.

He wouldn't have called her that if he meant to harm her. He'd call her the child, or something to that affect.

And then there was the issue of Sirius. It had stunned him to know he'd betrayed the Potter's, betrayed his very closest friend like that. Frankly, Albus's trust in others has been waning for quite some time, but that had destroyed him.

Still, Remus was a good person, no matter how clever or duplicitous he could be. Kindness shone through him, and Albus knew that he wouldn't hurt James and Lily's daughter, not when they'd shown him such kindness.

There was also the matter of Petunia's reaction to consider. Of course, she'd been near hysterics when he'd visited, and had almost refused him entry, but eventually, she'd given in. When he'd asked after Harri, she'd told him rather coldly that her godfather had come to collect her.

When he'd asked if there was anything dangerous about the man, she'd sneered her response, but had stopped, and in a rather confused tone, informed him that Sirius had sworn to protect her. Not take care of or anything that could have sinister connotation but protect.

As he was leaving, she'd asked him uncertainly about the blood wards, about Lily's protection. Albus still didn't have an answer, despite the weeks spent researching.

Deeply uncertain, Albus pulls out a quill and a fresh roll of parchment and begins to pen a response. Time to see where everyone's loyalties truly lied.

A/N: Alrighty then, time for actual plot! Tune in next week!