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Chapter One:

A Rude Awakening

Remus's skin stretched taut over muscle and bone, his heart beating fast, the rush of blood deafening in his ears.

The restlessness had come out of nowhere, uncompelled and unexpected yet impossible to ignore. The usual suspect hung above the city skyline, a waxing crescent visible even though the stars were not.

Something was wrong.

His fingers stung from the heat seeping through the thin porcelain teacup. His tongue burned and his throat ached, yet he took another sip and then one more after that. The muscles in his back felt like rocks. He could imagine his hackles rising, fur prickling and spine shivering.

He had called everyone he knew—all those who had a phone or a fireplace—but other than some complaints about the lateness of the hour, no one had mentioned anything amiss. All was well.

His hand jerked, and tea sloshed over the rim of his cup, narrowly missing his bare feet.

If all was well, why did he feel like he was about to jump out of his skin?

He poured the rest of his tea down the drain and set the cup on the counter. Treading the cold stone, Remus paced to the floor-to-ceiling window and peered out. If something was awry, he was too far to see it. An ocean lay between him and the life of troubles he had left behind. Even the New York City street was over two hundred metres below.

Remus's mind drifted to that old life, the one that had withered and died nearly twelve years ago. Dread weighed down his stomach like an ugly lump of lead.

Letting out a deep exhale, he rubbed at the knot between his shoulders. Dead, he reminded himself. That life had died, as had the man who had led it. There was no threat there, not any more.

He took a step towards Kali's room, but she was too easily woken. He headed to his bedroom instead, hoping his mind would slow down long enough for him to get some rest.

Sleep had come seconds or hours ago. Remus wasn't sure. What he did know was what had woken him: banging. A series of loud thumps, sounding like claps of thunder in the quiet night.

His sleep-addled mind fought to free itself from the fog of unconsciousness. A loud crash and Kali shouting his name had him vaulting out of bed. He grabbed his wand from the nightstand and sprinted into the sitting room before his brain had the chance to process.

Eight men stood in the front room, their wands pointed at Remus, Kali, and Pan. The big dog stood between Kali and the men, his back legs tensed. Kali didn't move a muscle, standing wandless, wearing flowery pyjamas, and at least half a head shorter than the shortest man in the room. The remains of the front door lay in a pile of splinters at her feet. Blood trickled down her cheek.

Remus's jaw clenched and his grip tightened on his wand, but he did not cast the first spell. The glowing city lights seeped into the room through the tall windows, reflecting off the gold insignia of the Ministry of Magic. Each badge was sewn over the breasts of the scarlet robes worn by British Aurors.

The biggest of the men took a step forward, the top of his bald head a foot short of brushing against the ceiling. His wiry black beard hid his cheeks, chin, and most of his short neck, but it couldn't hide the scars that covered his broad face. They shone like white worms in the low light, stark against weather-worn skin.

Remus's gut twisted.

In a voice that could crumble mountains, the big man barked, "Where is Sirius Black?"

The name made Remus flinch. He struggled to lower his wand, fighting to appear non-threatening. With a jerk, he managed to point it away from the intruders, but his grip did not lessen. "In a prison cell in Azkaban."

A small man whose glasses were slightly askew joined the giant. "He escaped earlier today. We suspect you may be harbouring him."

The world turned cold.

Remus's mind whirred, his reality slowly slipping away from him as the words sank in. It can't be.

"Search the place," the big man bellowed.

His subordinates jumped to it, marching through the flat like soldiers in a captured enemy camp, ripping books from shelves, tearing apart couch cushions, and tipping out the contents of drawers and cupboards.

"That isn't possible," Remus said, watching in a haze as an Auror checked the content of an old music box, one too small to fit a mouse, let alone a grown man. Seeing that Sirius Black was not hiding in it, the Auror threw the trinket over his shoulder. The box crashed against the floor, and Remus turned back to the man in charge. "No one can escape from Azkaban, not even him."

"He managed it somehow," the man who'd thrown the music box snapped. Kali slipped her cold hand into Remus's, and Pan growled too softly for the Aurors to hear. "Where is he?"

"Not here." A rumble tried to sneak into his voice, but he squeezed Kali's hand instead.

The man with the glasses took a step closer. His eyes didn't leave Remus even as his foot kicked the music box, sending it skidding beneath the couch just as another Auror tipped the sofa over. "You understand that by preventing the course of justice, you're committing a serious offence?" He cocked his head and smiled as though he were talking to a child. "We know you're hiding him, so you need to cooperate."

"Suspicion and knowledge are unequal terms," said Remus, ignoring the crashing and banging, the ripping and stomping, and focusing instead on the little man who played at being non-threatening despite his firm grip on his wand. "To know, you need proof."

"She's all the proof we need," said the music box man, jabbing his wand in Kali's direction. Pan's growl was now plainly audible, but the man ignored it. "If he's going anywhere, he's coming here."

"To the first place he knew you'd look? Sirius Black is many things, but he isn't stupid."

"Maybe Azkaban turned his brain into soup."

"You're suggesting that a man with soup for brains crossed the Atlantic Ocean without being spotted and arrived here before a group of highly trained Aurors?"

The man's face purpled, and a smell of burning wafted from the tip of his wand. "He escaped, didn't he? Who knows what he's capable of?"

"He. Is. Not. Here." Remus forced the words past the pit growing in his chest.

He hid a flinch as a loud crash sounded behind him.

Field Aurors were an elite, highly-trained team. They had an arsenal of spells to help them track down clues and suspects; they didn't need to tear this place apart, which meant that they were only doing it to prove that they could, to leave their mark and scare Remus into cooperating. They had nothing on him and no idea where to find Sirius.

He took a breath. "I understand the reasons that led your search here. Show me your letter of rights, and my ward and I will stay out of your way."

The bespectacled man blinked his owlish eyes. His smile fell for half a second before he pulled it back. "Sirius Black is a dangerous man. He's murdered thirteen people already and will stop at nothing to achieve his goals. He will sacrifice anything or anyone." His gaze dropped to Kali.

Remus tugged her closer, and the little man's smile grew.

"He'll hurt her, Mr Lupin, without hesitation. I know you don't want that. Just tell us where he is, and we can keep her safe."

Remus glanced at Kali in her pink pyjamas with her sleep-tousled curls and tried to convince himself that Sirius wouldn't hurt her. He couldn't. Sirius was capable of everything. But so were Aurors.

A bead of sweat clung to the bespectacled man's brow. It slid down the wrinkles of his forehead and disappeared in a bushy eyebrow. The heady smell of fear clung to the Aurors like cheap perfume, and the wands pointed at Remus's chest shook.

Remus's hand tightened around Kali's. "If you don't have a letter of rights, I would like for you to leave."

The Aurors searching the sitting room stopped mid-action.

The small man sighed and dropped his head. He gave it a slow, disappointed shake. "I'm afraid that can't happen, Mr Lupin. Recapturing Sirius Black is the Ministry's highest priority. If you don't cooperate, we'll be forced to take you in."

The Aurors shifted forward and formed a circle around Remus, Kali, and Pan. The dog's fur stood on end, adding a few inches to his size. He drew back his lips, showing off pearly-white fangs, and the men closest to him lowered their wands away from Remus, pointing them at Pan instead. Kali jerked in that direction, but Remus held her firm.

"You're a long way from home, gentlemen," he said. "The trip must have been tiring, so let me remind you that without a letter of rights, you have no jurisdiction here. Any action you wish to see through must first be approved by the Magical Congress of the United States of America. Unless you're willing to cause an international incident?"

The Aurors' advance faltered.

When the bespectacled Auror opened his mouth to speak, Remus added, "You may also expect that we will be putting in a complaint with the British Auror Division for damages, injuries, and rudeness. Now, I do believe it's time for you to leave. It is well past my ward's bedtime and mine also for that matter."

The younger Aurors, the ones who had so enthusiastically ransacked the sitting room, fidgeted, lowering their wands and fiddling with their uniforms while the more experienced of the lot glanced toward their superiors.

The big, bearded man and the little, bespectacled one shared a look. The latter gave a small shake of his head, and the former pressed his lips together in a hard line. His knuckles turned white from his grip on his wand.

Remus rolled his wand between his fingers and shifted to get Kali behind him, but with a deep sigh, the big man's posture drooped like a deflating balloon. When he lowered his wand, his colleagues followed suit, although many still wore scowls that barely hid the fear in their eyes.

"We will contact you again," said the big man, his tone clipped and gruff. "Have a good night."

He spun on his heels, his robes swirling around him, and strode toward the entrance, stomping his boots hard enough to leave scuff marks on the marble floor. His team followed him out, shuffling around the broken door. Remus stared after them, his mind a blur of white noise.

His bones weighed more than dragon eggs, but he forced his wand up to fix the door and set it back on its hinges. Kali shifted beside him and tugged her hand away from his.

"Sorry," he said, loosening his too-tight hold on her fingers. His gaze caught on the cut on her cheek. It wasn't deep—barely more than a scratch—but its tip touched the corner of her eye.

"I'm all right," she said, stilling his hand as he raised his wand.

"Humour me."

She sighed, tilted her face, and released his hand.

If lycanthropy had one advantage, it was that Remus had become skilled at fixing broken skin. He sealed the cut and cleared the trail of blood, leaving behind neither a scar nor a smear.

"Those men," Kali said. A frown dug a dimple above each eyebrow. Her skin had turned pale, but perhaps that was only an impression caused by the low light.

"Were Aurors." A tremor sent spasms through his fingers. He squeezed his hand into a fist and lifted Kali's chin with his other to keep her from noticing. "You're not hurt anywhere else?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine. They said Dad escaped."

"I heard."

A book had landed by his feet. He picked it up and smoothed the spine, checking within for bent pages.

"What are we going to do?"

He slipped the book back onto its shelf. His stomach twisted and his heart pounded, but he kept his voice even. "About what?"

"About Dad."

His knuckles rapped against the bookcase, and the wood tore at a freshly scabbed scar. Bile rose in his throat every time Kali used that word. She was a year old when Sirius got himself locked up. He was her father only by blood, and even that honour he didn't deserve.

"Nothing," said Remus. "We aren't going to do anything."

He turned at the flash of bright yellow eyes reflecting the city lights. Pandoran sat at Kali's feet, not moving a muscle as he stared at Remus.

Pan could pass for a regular dog—or whatever animal he chose to take the shape of—but one look at those eyes was enough to tell anyone with any sense that he was anything but. The shape-shifter had settled himself into Remus and Kali's lives years ago, but that reptilian gaze still caught Remus off guard.

Remus kept his eyes on his bleeding knuckles and went to the kitchen. He took a napkin from the roll on the counter and watched it soak up the blood. Kali followed him. He filled the kettle to keep his back to her.

"We can't do nothing," she said as he grabbed his cup from earlier and took another from the cupboard. "It isn't right."

Even using the Muggle method, the kettle boiled too quickly. Remus poured the hot water over milk and tea bags. "There's nothing we can do for him."

"Not if we don't try, there isn't."

His eyes snapped up to meet hers. She stood by the door, her arms folded over her chest, her mouth set in an angry line. Sirius's eyes stared back at him. Remus shook his head and swallowed past the bile as he handed her a steaming mug. "He killed people."

She shifted her weight from her left foot to her right. "You don't know that."

"Everyone knows that"—he met her gaze in time to see her glare waver—"including you."

"I wasn't there. Were you?"

A familiar weight settled onto his shoulders, and he sagged against the counter. "There were witnesses."

"Muggle witnesses. All they saw was two men shouting and waving twigs."

Kali hadn't seen the first-hand accounts, but she wasn't far from the truth. Eyewitness accounts were unreliable at the best of times, Freyja often said. Memory accuracy was influenced by countless factors, including stress and world view. When Muggles witnessed magic, their minds distorted what they saw to fit with what they knew.

"He was Lily and James's Secret Keeper," said Remus. "He was the only one who could have sold them out."

"Gran always says that the Fidelius Charm isn't perfect. That's why she never uses it to protect her clients before their trials."

Freyja Morrigan's job had put her in contact with more unseemly witches and wizards than anyone should be comfortable knowing. If there was a way past the Fidelius Charm—no doubt involving dark magic—Freyja would know it.

"Voldemort didn't know half of the things your grandmother does. If he had, none of us would be here."

"Which doesn't mean he didn't know how to get past the Fidelius Charm without the Secret Keeper's help."

Remus rubbed the bridge of his nose. His tea sat in front of him, forgotten. "If he didn't do it, why did he laugh afterwards?" Remus had arrived at the scene in time to see two Aurors gripping Sirius as they Apparated him away. The sound of Sirius's laughter had echoed down the ruined street where the bodies of his victims had yet to be recovered. "He killed all those people, and he laughed. He was still laughing when the Aurors took him away."

One of her bracelets had rolled up her forearm. She tugged at it and scratched the colourful threads with blunt nails. "Gran says that laughing can be an adverse reaction to stress."

Remus didn't often wish ill on Freyja, but raising Kali would be much easier if her grandmother remembered that the girl was only thirteen, too young for half of the conversations Freyja had with her.

"Mum trusted him."

Remus drank a mouthful of tepid tea.

When his world had fallen apart, Asherah Morrigan had been there to kick his arse back to health and happiness with all the bedside manner of an angry bear. She had given him a reason to get up in the morning. Now that reason stood on the other side of the room, glaring at him with grey eyes that were too much like her father's.

His exhale blew ripples through his tea. "What would you have me do?"

Uncertainty flickered over her face. She opened her mouth, but the words came slowly. "We could go to the UK with Gran. She could get in touch with some of her contacts there."

"And then what? Everyone knows he's guilty. Not even Freyja can convince them to help him."

She blinked, batting her eyelids hard and fast as she looked away. "He at least deserves a trial," she said, so softly that he barely heard. "You may hate him, but you can't deny that."

He couldn't argue with her—not if he didn't want to see that hurt, reproachful look in her eyes. "Go get dressed. I'll call Freyja."

She didn't say anything more, didn't nod or smile at him for giving in, but she did do as she was told. Pan trailed after her, and Remus poured himself something stronger than tea.

Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban. The words played in his head like a cruel, taunting litany.

With a weary sigh and a shake of his head, Remus headed to the study. The Aurors had ventured into here too. Books blanketed the floor, their spines cracked and their pages rumpled. It would only take a flick of his wand to set them all right, but he stepped over them, a perverted sense of warmth washing over him from the fact that, for once, his surroundings looked as broken and dilapidated as he did.

Werewolves did not belong in high-end flats in the middle of Manhattan. Remus, with his scars and threadbare clothes, was often given a wide berth by the building's other tenants. He found a stubborn sense of justification in that and refused to let Freyja buy him new clothes—or at least refused to wear what she bought him because she never listened. He didn't deserve to belong here, and he would not lie and pretend that he did, no matter how much Freyja insisted that he was acting like a child.

He picked up the office phone and dialled Freyja's number.

It rang through three times before she picked up, sounding snappish and ill-tempered. "You had better have a damn fine reason for calling me at this hour."

"Sirius has escaped from Azkaban," he said. Freyja did not appreciate small-talk at the best of times. "Aurors came by the flat a few minutes ago. They thought we might be hiding him."

"Remus?" she said, but who else would it be? "Is Kali all right?"

"She's a little shaken."

A short pause followed. Remus heard the rustling of a duvet and a man mumbling. He almost asked who it was, but there were questions Freyja didn't appreciate being asked and answers Remus probably wouldn't like. He could only hope that Kali would have better taste in men than her grandmother did.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'll live. Kali wants to help him."

"He is her father."

"Barely." He couldn't stop the growl that crept into his voice. "After what he did to us, he doesn't deserve our help."

Freyja hummed through the receiver. "Give me ten minutes. I'll Floo over, and we can discuss it then."

She hung up without waiting for his agreement. Remus downed the rest of his whiskey.

He found Kali with her back to the fridge, a wolf-shaped barrette poking through her dark hair. Remus started to smile, but she didn't look up from the box of cereal in her hands. Words jumbled in his mouth. He didn't know which ones would make her happy and which would make her sad, so he ducked his head and said nothing as he shuffled to his room and closed the door behind him.

He hadn't wanted children. Given his condition, he hadn't let himself consider parenthood as an option, but then Sirius had got a stranger pregnant and named Remus the godfather without consulting him about it first. "It's just an excuse to force you into diaper duty," Sirius had said with a grin that nearly split his face in two. Diapers had been the least of it.

Sirius and Asherah, brilliant as they were, had never had to work to succeed. When parenting hadn't come naturally to them, they floundered, and it fell to Remus and Leilani to keep Kali alive and well. The four of them had learnt the ins and outs of childrearing the hard way.

Kali was a teenager now, and Remus was alone in learning how to handle it. It was a cruel twist of fate that, out of all the parental figures she had known, Remus was the one she was stuck with.

He had barely finished getting dressed when he heard the roar of flames followed by the sharp slap of stiletto heels. Only a handful of people could use the flat's Floo connection, but Remus would have recognised that purposeful march anywhere.

He left his room to find Freyja talking with Kali.

Statuesque and handsome, with the bearing of a person born into power, she dominated every room. Not a strand of grey streaked her dark hair, and no lines marred her face. Remus was half her age, yet if a stranger were asked to guess, they would say that he was the older of the two.

Her dark eyes met his as he crossed the room. She didn't smile or move to hug him or even shake his hand. A curt nod was all he got from her, and he expected nothing more. Freyja's love had always been cold and distant, but it was still far more pleasant than her indifference, which was glacial and unforgiving.

"I'll schedule a trip to London in a few days," she said when he reached her. "We'll be able to do more for Sirius there than we can here."

Thin-lipped, Remus gave her a long look. When she didn't so much as blink, he turned to Kali. "Could you give me a few minutes with your gran, please?"

A sullen twist of her lips was her only argument. Remus made sure that Pan left with her before he focused on Freyja. With her heels on, she was an inch taller than him. He wondered if she did that on purpose—always keeping the higher ground, even physically.

"We can't go to London."

Her gaze travelled over her sitting room, taking in the disarray with a curl of her lip. She drew her wand and set everything back in its place. With a satisfied nod, she sat on the leather sofa and waved Remus toward the armchair across from her. "Why not?"

He dropped into the chair, his shoulders slumping and his legs spread. "Because it'll get her hopes up."

"If we do nothing, she'll never forgive us." Her eyes narrowed at his posture, but she didn't comment. "She's a bright girl. We will explain beforehand that the chances of a favourable result are slim, but even so, we will do everything within our power to ensure that Sirius at least gets a fair trial."

Remus scoffed. There was that talk of a trial again.

The evidence against Sirius had been so plentiful and so irrefutable that the Ministry had deemed that a trial would be a waste of everyone's time. Even Albus Dumbledore, who was well-known for giving second chances, had believed that Sirius was guilty beyond all reasonable doubt. The Ministry wasn't going to hold a trial now, nearly twelve years after the crime had been committed, following the accused convict's Houdini act out of Azkaban.

"Everyone is entitled to a fair hearing, Remus, even the guilty."

Remus nodded, but the movement was stiff. His jaw worked, teeth grinding as he stared at a spot next to Freyja's bare knees. "Do you think he is guilty?"

She leaned into the couch, keeping her back as straight as a plank. "Guilt is a matter of perspective."

"Spoken like a true defence lawyer." Remus almost smiled. "But that doesn't answer the question."

Freyja looked at him for a moment, as a scientist might observe a bug, before her gaze went to the city skyline. "I must say, I never quite believed that Sirius had it in him to betray James. Or you for that matter. He struck me as far too loyal."

"But he did betray us. He sold James and Lily out to Voldemort. He left me—" His voice caught, and he had to swallow hard to keep it steady. "He killed Peter and all those Muggles. He deserves to be in Azkaban."

Freyja studied him, and only years of practice allowed him not to squirm under her appraisal. "Have you truly never considered the possibility that he may be innocent?"

"He isn't."

"Such certainty from a man who dithered over what shape he wanted his bedroom pillows to be."

Remus ignored the jab. "I suppose you think that Voldemort used dark magic to break past the Fidelius Charm."

"Perhaps. The Infidelius Curse often results in the death of either the caster or Secret Keeper, but the Inritum Facio ritual is arcane yet simple. The sacrifice need only be fresh."

His stomach lurched. "What kind of sacrifice?" She didn't blink, and Remus shook his head. "Never mind."

Fingers tapping against the arm of the sofa, she pursed her lips. "Of course, to perform the ritual, one must be in the general vicinity of either the Secret Keeper or the concealed object."

"No one knew that James and Lily had a house in Godric's Hollow." He stood, uncoiling the kinks in his legs with every pace to and from the fireplace. "So either Voldemort somehow found out about the Fidelius Charm and happened to have an obscure spell capable of breaking it in his arsenal, or Sirius revealed the secret."

"Perhaps." The word sounded like honey and arsenic.

Remus whirled on her. "What does that mean?"

Her eyes shone like obsidian, but she didn't answer. The urge to jinx something rocketed down his arm, but he threw his hands up instead and forced his jaw shut.

Sirius was guilty. Kali's convictions and Freyja's silver tongue could not change that. Sirius had fooled them all. Remus had seen the truth of what Sirius was, first in glimpses and then in a blinding flare, but not even nearly killing a classmate had been enough to make him see the light. His stubborn refusal to open his eyes made him just as guilty of killing Lily, James, and Peter as Sirius was.

"Think what you will, Remus." Freyja stood and smoothed the creases in her skirt. "I'll get my affairs in order, and Kali and I will leave for England in four days. You're welcome to join us if you wish."

He sighed rubbed his face. "How long will you be gone?"

If he got the flat to himself for a couple of weeks, he could finish his paper on how Lethifolds interact with Dementors and what the best countermeasures were against both creatures.

Freyja had other plans. "However long it takes."

Remus's head snapped up to look at her. "Kali has to be back at school in September." He wouldn't put it past Freyja to forget about something as trivial as her granddaughter's education.

"I'm sure Hogwarts' curriculum can keep her occupied for a year," she said, heading toward her bedroom.

Remus vaulted over the couch and into her path. "You're taking her away from me?"

She didn't so much as blink at his sudden athleticism. "As I said, you're welcome to join us. I believe Hogwarts is looking for a new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor if you're interested."

She sidestepped around him and left him rooted to the spot.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope this first chapter grabbed your attention. If it didn't, I'm open to feedback. I always want to improve my writing!