One Step Ahead

Despite the frightening story that Sirius had told him, Harry soon found his spirits soar. Living with Sirius and Remus was just so exciting, exuberating and downright wonderful that he thought it must be impossible for a person to grin so much in just one day.

For once, there had been breakfast – or lunch, really, but neither Sirius nor Remus seemed very picky with the terminology, something that Aunt Petunia would never have accepted. Harry wasn't sure about the pumpkin juice (Remus had promised to let him choose what type of juice to buy next time), but apart from that, the meal had been the best he had ever eaten.

Not that Aunt Petunia didn't cook well, but Harry had only ever been allowed the tiniest of portions, and only gotten the leftover greens that Dudley wouldn't eat. But now he could stuff his face with all the toast, eggs, bacon and beans that he could fit in his mouth (he had to fight Sirius for the sausages), and didn't even have to do the dishes afterwards.

Instead, Remus had just waved his wand to make them scrub themselves. After that, they had started exploring the other rooms. Despite Sirius' and Remus' warnings and their insistence that he kept close to them at all times, it was the most exciting afternoon Harry had ever experienced. While certainly dark and sometimes downright scary (he had almost fallen down the stairs when a portrait in the hallway started screaming at him), the house full of magic was utterly fascinating.

And it was big.

If the Dursleys hadn't been so horrified by everything magic, they might have been impressed with it, as it clearly had belonged to a wealthy family. There were at least four storeys as far as Harry could see, and while he had thought the study where they had slept rather grand, it had nothing on the big drawing room on the first floor. There even was a library full of heavy, ancient looking books, although Remus had told him not to open any of them unless he was with one of the adults.

The rooms were inhabited by all sorts of strange creatures, Most of them were pests, as Sirius explained, although Harry found them rather endearing – until a nasty, moth-like insect bit him in the finger. From that point onward he felt rather less sympathetic whenever Sirius or Remus blasted one or the other creature out of the air with coloured jets from their wands.

The most exciting part came when Sirius and Remus told him to pick out a bedroom for himself. Having spent his whole life in a cupboard – and even that wasn't really his, as Dudley used to sneak in to steal or break his things – the concept of having a whole (enormously-sized, at that) room for himself, and even being allowed to choose which one he wanted, was almost overwhelming.

Mistaking his silence, Sirius was quick to point out that they could also clean up some rooms in the higher storeys if he wanted a bit of privacy, but Harry hastily shook his head. While enjoyable when he was safely with Sirius and Remus, he could imagine the house might be a great deal scarier at night.

"No, I really like this one," he said, pointing to the middle one, hoping that Sirius would take one of the rooms next to it so he'd be close by, but not wanting to say so outright for fear of looking like a baby. He was almost eight, after all.

If Sirius suspected anything, he didn't say so. "Good choice," he said, nodding, as he surveyed the room they had cleaned earlier. It was a rather nice room, with two double windows that looked out on the street below. "Guess we'll have to start renovating, then." He rolled up his sleeves, grinning. "Alright, Prongslet. What colour do you want your walls?"

Harry had often wondered what it would be like to be as spoilt as Dudley, to have every wish he dared to utter immediately granted, but not even in his wildest dreams the wish-granter in question had been a wizard.

The walls were only a start. As he flicked through different colours and told Harry to say stop at the one he liked (because Harry hadn't brought himselfto actually demand any on his own accord), he listed all the things that they would have to buy. "You'll want a new bed, obviously. People have actually died in that one; I'm not having you sleep in that. And a desk would be nice as well, I guess, and maybe a bookshelf – do you like to read, Harry? – And a new wardrobe, of course. And we could put up some pictures, if you like..."

In the end Harry settled on a deep red on one of the walls and white on the rest. Sirius wanted to go out and buy his new furniture at once, but Remus pointed out that it was almost seven, and that surely they could do it tomorrow. So they returned to the kitchen, and while Remus set about making dinner (Harry still had trouble getting used to the fact that he didn't have to do a single thing to help), Sirius pulled out a packet of cards and introduced Harry to Exploding Snap, a greatly entertaining wizard card game.

All in all, Harry thought as he was lying on the couch that night, wrapped once more in the woollen blanket (after Sirius' comment about people having died in the bed, he had opted out of staying in his new room for tonight), he was probably the luckiest boy in the world right now.


"I can't believe I got beaten by a seven-year-old," Sirius muttered, sipping his Butterbeer.

Remus, who had been leafing through the Daily Prophet he'd bought that morning, chuckled. "You should've known better than to challenge James Potter's son to a round of Exploding Snap," he pointed out.

At that, Sirius couldn't help but smile, as an odd sort of pride welled up in him. "Yeah," he said. "I reckon he's gonna be one hell of a Quidditch player when he gets older...Think we should get him a broom?" Remus arched an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. He didn't need to, as Sirius understood his meaning perfectly.

His good mood dwindled somewhat. "Right," he muttered. "On the run and all that. How'd go this morning, anyway? Ran into any trouble?"

Remus folded his paper and sat up, shaking his head. "Surprisingly little," he said, reaching to pour himself another cup of tea. "I think I saw Sturgis hang out in front of Gringotts, but he didn't recognize me. And this-" he motioned to the paper next to him, "Doesn't mention either Harry or me. Either they didn't know yet at the time of printing, or..."

"Or Dumbledore's keeping it quiet," Sirius finished, nodding. "So that only leaves the Order to worry about." He laughed humourlessly. "No worries, then. By the way," he added, feeling curious once more – he had missed so much while locked away, and even though Remus had filled him in on the important parts, there was still a host of things he had no idea of. He didn't even know if Milicent Bagnold was still minister. "Who's left nowadays? Half of us were dead by the time it was over, weren't they?"

Remus nodded slowly. "Not many. Dumbledore called us all back last week after you escaped, but only a few showed up. McGonagall, Flitwick and Hagrid, of course, and Emmeline, Diggle and Sturgis. Doge came later, too. And Moody, obviously." He smiled slightly. "Hasn't changed a bit. Although he lost an eye a couple of years back and replaced it with this special Middle Eastern import. It makes him look like a cyborg, but can apparently see through things. I must say I pity today's Auror cadets."

Sirius grinned at the thought. He had always liked Moody – or rather liked annoying Moody, even though that had led to him and James spending the majority of their Order meetings as ferrets. Then he remembered that the legendary Auror was now hunting him, and his fondness ebbed somewhat.

"Think they know we're here?" he wondered.

Remus nodded grimly. "They'll know someone put a Fidelius on the house, and they're not stupid. They'll certainly watch it."

"So how do we get Harry out?" Sirius wondered further. "Apparate?"

And splinch him into a million pieces? I don't think Lily and James would've liked that very much," Remus answered dryly, before scratching his head. "I don't know. I suppose we could try the floo, but where'd we go? And if Dumbledore told the ministry you're here, they'll have blocked that."

"Disillusionment and broom again, then?" Sirius asked. He didn't like the idea very much – they'd have to make to with a Disillusionment potion this time as they couldn't risk to perform the spell once outside the house, and neither he nor Remus had been particularly talented at it back in school. And, depending on how vigilant the house was watched, they might be spotted. Not to mention that depending on a broom made them terribly vulnerable, especially if the broom in question was as old and unreliable as Remus'.

The werewolf seemed to have similar objections. "Don't you think that's a bit too much of a risk for a simple shopping trip? I'm sure if we just asked Harry what he-"

But Sirius cut him off, shaking his head vigorously. "No. I promised Harry I'd take him, and I will. You've seen him, Remus. He hasn't been allowed to pick out something for himself even once in his life." When Remus still looked doubtful, he sighed. "It won't be a regular thing, I promise. But I'm not taking away this one opportunity from him."

Finally, Remus relented. "Alright," he sighed. "This once. But if there is any hint of trouble, you get him out of there at once. Let me handle the Aurors."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I see you haven't lost your martyr complex. Lovely."


"So Lupin's gone over, then?" Alastor's gruff voice cut through the shocked silence that had followed the report.

Albus nodded slightly. "It very much looks like it," he said. The hand in his pocket closed around the letter, but he chose to ignore it. Whether or not a word in it was true – and despite desperately wanting to hope, he still struggled to believe it – their priority had to be to get Harry back to his aunt and uncle, and Remus had made it clear that he would fight them in this, no matter what.

Several Order members swore, others looked horrified. He noticed Minerva surreptitiously drawing a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes. "To think that he, of all people...do you think it is because of..." She didn't finish, glancing around the table nervously. After all, most Order members were still oblivious to Remus' sickness.

Albus had always respected his wish to keep it quiet, and normally wouldn't have dreamed of revealing his secret to anybody. But that was before his trust had been so violently shaken. "It might well have had something to do with his lycanthrophy," he nodded. There were several gasps, and Daedalus Diggle lost his top hat.

"Lupin's a werewolf?" Alastor growled. "And you never thought to share that with us, Albus?"

The headmaster grimaced. "It wasn't my secret to share. And it did not seem to matter – after all, I hope nobody at this table buys into the prejudices surrounding that particular curse. Remus was just a boy like any other when he got into Hogwarts, a sick boy, maybe, but completely innocent of what had happened to him."

"And now he's a traitor," Alastor pointed out. "I wonder how long he's been working with Black."

"I am certain that he was on our side during the war," Albus said quickly. "I rather think that Sirius won him over somehow after he escaped – Remus' life was never easy; and even worse after the Potters died. It is easy to become disillusioned in a society that has no place for you."

"Surely you can't be defending him, Dumbledore!" Sturgis Podmore exclaimed, his face unusually pale. "The man's a monster, same as Black. And they have the Potter boy! That is, if they haven't already-"

"That's enough, Sturgis," Emmeline, equally pale, said quickly. "We don't need to think about..." Her gaze wandered to Albus, seeking reassurance.

He smiled sadly. "I am almost certain he is still alive," Albus said mildly, "But it is essential that we find him as soon as possible."

"And where do we start?" Minerva asked.

"I believe they are hiding at the old Black mansion," Albus answered, remembering the missing house from this morning. "It looks like Black has put a Fidelius Charm on the place."

More gasps. "A Fidelius?" Emmeline repeated, disgust lacing her voice. "After everything..."

"The bastard's got some nerves," Alastor growled. "And brains, unfortunately for us. Don't see how we can get to them there."

"Surely they'll have to come out at some point," Daedalus said. "Black doesn't even have a wand, and no money-"

"Afraid he does," Sturgis interrupted him. He'd been late, and hadn't gotten a chance to report yet. "I finally managed to talk the goblins around earlier, and they at least agreed to tell me if somebody requested access to his vault. Turns out he was already there, this morning. They didn't tell me what he took, but we can be certain that his wand was among it."

More swearing around the table, and Albus felt his hope falter further. Always one step ahead front of us... He should have known it wouldn't be easy. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin had been two of the most intelligent boys he had ever taught, not to mention Marauders, whose skill for sneaking around was unrivalled. Born criminals, actually.

They had even remembered the portrait of Phineas Nigellus that hung in one of the rooms of Grimmauld Place, as Albus had discovered to his frustration when he had tried to talk to the former headmaster this afternoon. Apparently Sirius had sealed off his painting so that he couldn't escape to any of the others in the house and deposited him in a dark corner of the attic, soundproofed and cut off from any information. Needless to say, it had been impossible to get anything more out of Phineas, as he had been far too busy alternatively sulking and ranting at his great-great-grandson.

"I told them time and time again to go through the old records and destroy the damn things," Alastor snarled, his blue eye swirling in his socket angrily. "Any old Death Eater could march into Gringotts and retrieve his wand. And now one did."

Albus sighed. "It happened, nothing we can do about it. For now, we have to figure out our next step."

"What are we telling the ministry?" Sturgis asked. "If we can't find him, someone's bound to-"

"I do not think it would be wise to include the ministry at this point," Dumbledore said quickly. "If they get to Harry first, they might send him to a foster family, and that would be just as detrimental."

Directly after the murder of the Potters, Minister Bagnold had been sceptical about sending the Boy who lived to stay with muggles, but accepted Dumbledore's decision. Now, however...You failed. There is no reason the ministry should trust you again.

He pushed the thought aside. There was still time to find Harry, before...

"What we have to do now is make sure we catch them the next time they go out. We need to get the ministry to block the floo connection," he glanced over to Alastor, "But don't tell them we know for sure he's in there."

"It's already blocked; did it last Monday," the Auror said. "We'll need a proper guard schedule, though. Scrimgeour put up a couple of Aurors, but Larkfield and Millwitch are idiots. A first year could sneak past them."

"What about the trace?" Filius asked. "Is it still working? How come we did not notice them taking the boy? Surely they can't have done so without using magic?"

"Because they were clever," Alastor answered, sounding impressed and annoyed at the same time. "The trace did activate last night, but it was only a few Disillusionment spells. The morons from MLE thought it was someone keeping an eye on Potter and didn't investigate it."

"So the trace does work?" Emmeline clarified. "We'll know if they use magic around them?"

"Not if they keep him in the Black mansion," Filius supplied quickly, shaking his head. "All the old houses have wards blocking it. It's illegal nowadays, but I don't think it was ever taken down in the Black Mansion."

"But if they want to move him, we'll have them," Alastor said. "If they're stupid enough to use magic, that is."

Albus nodded, even though he strongly doubted that Remus or Sirius would indeed be stupid enough. "It might be helpful to put out some sort of missive to the muggles – "He looked over to Emmeline, who nodded, "tell them we're looking for two men and a boy. Somebody might see them."

Masterful minds they might be, but even Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were bound to slip up at some point. Or so Albus hoped.


"I'm really not comfortable with this," Remus said, staring uneasily at his attire while Harry was visibly struggling – and failing – to hide his sniggers.

Sirius merely grinned, not even bothering to try and hide it. "Your idea, Moony. And cheer up, you look absolutely dashing. If I didn't know it was you, I'd totally snog you."

"If that's supposed to make me feel better, it's not working," Remus said unhappily, tugging at the frilly dress in which Sirius had transfigured his robes. He wished he hadn't brought up the whole thing about muggle suspicion. It wasn't the fifties anymore; surely two men going shopping with a child wouldn't cause that many stares.

But once Sirius had realized what Remus' concern entailed, there had been no stopping him. And so it came that Remus Lupin, werewolf, war veteran and renowned wizard, was now standing in the hallway of number twelve Grimmauld Place in a dress, high heeled shoes and wavy blond hair, a distinctly feminine body under all of it.

"I look like a tramp," he said, scrutinizing himself in the mirror, "Not somebody's mother."

"Oh, don't fret, honey," Sirius said in a falsely sweet tone, putting his arm around him in a rather inappropriate way. "You look stunning. Doesn't Mummy look stunning, Harry?"

Harry – his own hair transfigured into blond curls, his eyes blue and his face broader than usual – couldn't hold it back any longer, and collapsed on the floor, howling with laughter, while Remus exasperatedly shoved Sirius away from him and tried to murder him with his eyes. "I can't believe I'm going to be sent to Azkaban in a dress," he muttered when the convict failed to drop dead, and walked over to the window – narrowly avoiding breaking his ankle when he was reminded of the ridiculous shoes Sirius had conjured for him.

"Two Aurors, but they appear to be doing the crossword," he reported as he surveyed the street, crouching down to transfigure his shoes into something a little less resembling a death trap. "And I'm pretty sure there's someone under an invisibility cloak over at the lamppost; there was movement earlier. It's probably the Order."

At the mention of their pursuers, Sirius sobered somewhat. "Better go out the back window, then," he said, helping Harry do his feet. "Ready, Prongslet?" Harry nodded, looking rather excited at the prospect of flying once more, and not even the slightest bit concerned about the fact that they'd be exiting through a window on the first floor.

Yes. Definitely James' son.


Bit of a filler, this one, but there'll be plenty of action next time. Because what could possibly go wrong on that shopping trip? ;)

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