I don't own Harry Potter.
Warnings: Language, AU, Character AU, Human! Dumbledore, Logical, Abused, Young! Harry, Godfather! Remus, Abusive! Dursleys, and umm... I'll probably add/change more later.
Pairings: None as of yet. Could likely have slash pairings in the future, so beware.
Beta: A huge thank you to Nursie91 for looking through and giving thoughts on this chapter!
Author's Notes: So this is a bit longer than the last chapter, but that's a good thing, right? As for my idea with the wards: I was pondering the fact that Voldemort couldn't touch him (until they shared blood, that is), but Peter could. So I took the whole "mother's love" scenario and turned it into blood magic – which will be explained in greater detail later when Harry becomes interested in the subject and just how he managed to survive a killing curse. I figure Remus will have to give him an explanation, for he won't just accept it as love, correct? He's grown up knowing only hate, indifference, and disgust. He'll want some type of logical explanation and he won't stop until he finds it. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favourited! I personally replied to the reviews – however if it's anon or you have your messages disabled, I can't. The next chapter is in working progress. I'm going to try to keep my updates regular, but I can't always bypass the disease of writer's block.
Enjoy and let me know what you think!
Summary: "Hey, Moony?" Prongs whispered, his lips curved in a small, contented smile. "Would you be godfather?"
A Two Arrowed Sign
Look both ways before crossing the street. You never know when you may fall and weep. There is no right or wrong, but what is human and what should remain unsung.
Chapter 2
June 14, 1989
Lupin Residence
Remus had known it wouldn't be the easiest task he had ever accomplished. That was obvious. Even before he landed on the Dursley's street after a very dizzying apparition, he could feel the terrified excitement bubbling in his gut like a potion about to explode. He was excited because this was his godsonand he had finally gathered enough information to see him, to make sure the happy child he remembered so vividly was okay and being taken care of. He was also unbelievably terrified because what if Harry hated him? Or he hated the magical world; had the Dursley's corrupted his views? Or, the worst of all his fears, Harry wasn't happy? Remus never liked the term "butterflies." It had always made him feel silly, but that seemed to be the only true description of his agitation. Their wings were digging the inside of his stomach and the constant fluttering was making his nauseous.It'll be fine; what's the worst that could happen?
That really hadn't been the best question to ask himself.
The guilt was curling inside his heart, but he had gotten used to it by now. It was always there, nagging him and whispering horrible things. A huge part of Remus hated himself because it had taken so long – years – to get to this point. His feet were firmly planted not feet away from his godson's residence, and while that was a cause for celebration, a slice of him was in mourning because it had taken almost eight years to come to this point. I'm sorry James.
The wards had been the main complication, along with the knowledge that Dumbledore was keeping close tabs on his whereabouts. The Marauder couldn't figure out why Dumbledore was so adamant that Remus not have any contact with Harry, but the man's opinion certainly didn't stop him. He hadn't known much about blood wards, but he had been doing research for all these years, only to physically smack himself when he found his answers. I should have just run in recklessly like I wanted to. That's what Padfoot would have done. No, not Padfoot – Black was a traitor.
He had needed a way to get through the wards without alerting Dumbledore to his presence, as well as some sort of heads up on what the protections in place may do to him. But information was scarce, for blood wards had been outlawed for many, many years and only the darkest parts of the wizarding world could you find any knowledge of the illegal art. Even then, you needed to know which place to go, which person to talk to that wouldn't immediately warn the ministry of your curiosity, as well as the money to back up your case. Illegal information wasn't cheap, and Remus could hardly hold a job that gave enough to feed himself, least of all buy a book costing him a small fortune. But here he was, finally, after so many years of tirelessly searching.
His logic for bypassing the wards had been simple (after enough research that is): Remus knew that Lily had sacrificed her life for Harry, creating a protective force that sunk into Harry's very skin. Dumbledore believed it to be love, but Remus knew there was more to it. How many mothers died for their children? One book, he found, talked of blood sacrifices. It was easy to come the conclusion that Lily had done one of these rituals with Harry, granting him the protection of her own life force, should it come to it (the actual ritual was unknown to Remus, for it would be near impossible to calculate which one it was, along with the fact Lily could have made any changes to it she believed may improve it). Dumbledore had only amplified the protection in Harry onto the wards surrounding the Dursley house, anchored by Lily's blood in Petunia Dursley. It was then found that anyone the caster believed would hurt the receiving end of the ritual would be unable to touch them. But if the performer wasn't aware of their unkind intentions, then the protections wouldn't amount to anything in the presence of that person. With the knowledge that a woman he thought of as a sister had performed the ritual, Remus had come to the conclusion (after a lot of complicated, confusing words in bunches of old books) that since Lily trusted him, he would be able to come in contact with the wards and therefore Harry, no problem.
And he had been completely correct. Upon turning to the street of the Dursleys' home, he had only felt a gentle brush of familiar magic against his mind. I miss you so much, Lily. His gratefulness almost seemed too vanished almost as soon as he caught sight of little Harry Potter. His godson.
Harry looked small, probably a head shorter that was he was supposed to be. He had the same green eyes he supported as a baby and Remus could easily make out James' messy locks across Harry's head. The inky black strands curled around his ears and forehead, leaving a dark contrast to Harry's pale skin. His cheeks were red, either naturally or because of too much sun, and he had a Lily's nose, with his grandmother's arched cheekbones, who was a Black by birth. It made Harry favour Sirius slightly, though Remus hated to admit it. Why did you do it Padfoot? What did Harry, innocent little Harry, do to you?
Remus tightly clinched his fists as he watched the boy drag a large trash bag at his side, physically stopping himself from running over to the child and smothering him in a hug. But Harry didn't know him, and as much as it pained Remus, he didn't know Harry. The werewolf didn't know Harry's favourite colour or his likes and dislikes, his favourite memories –anything. Harry was virtually a stranger to him. But Harry could never be a stranger to him, because there was still a connection there, fizzling with protectiveness and love and curiosity. Some bonds can never be broken, no matter how many years they have been separated.
As much as James and Lily were Harry's biological parents and held the titles of "mum" and "dad", Harry was just as much the other Marauders' son. Remus had known since he was a child he would never be able to have children, a family to love and care for. The Marauders had been his family, his pack. Harry was the son he would never get to have, the cub that his wolf was willing to protect above all else. He had believed Sirius had felt the same, for the disowned Black had never been the settling down type of bloke. Appearances aren't everything.
Remus had sharp, observing eyes. He noticed most things that others didn't or felt were too insignificant to be worth noticing. But sometimes things were so glaring obvious that he wondered how stupid a person had to be to overlook it.
First it was the state of his clothes. They obviously weren't bought for him, being three sizes too big, and they were also slightly wrinkled and dirty. Probably normal for a boy Harry's age, especially if he was just as mischievous as he was at one years old, but the placing and size of the Dursley house told him they were well off and fully able to buy a child proper clothes. Second it was the cracked, lopsided glasses resting on Harry's nose. They were held together at the middle by a thick circle of tape and looked terribly uncomfortable, for the ear pieces barely reached to wrap around his ears enough to hold them in place. Lastly, there was no mistaking the bruises on the Harry's small wrists. They were yellow looking, with a slight purple, and were fading, but Remus' wolf enhanced eyes were easily able to see the shapes of fingers, much too big to be another child's.
Remus was all-too familiar with the signs of abuse, not from his own experience fortunately. He would never forget pulling Sirius into the Hogwarts Express' bathroom at the beginning of every year, locking and silencing the door before he began a series of healing charms and manually wrapping bandages across open wounds that he didn't have enough experience to heal. Sirius hid it extremely well, but he shouldn't have had to. Injustice was one of the worst flaws in the world and for the days that he would ponder on perhaps the cheeky black haired man was innocent, Remus just wanted to cry. But he had cried enough for his friends, family that would never return. Death was a never ending silence and Sirius was locked in Azkaban for a betrayal that Remus would never be able to heal from. Yet, whether betrayal or death, Remus would never be able to forget them. The memories would still come upon him at the worst moments, making his mouth sour and his eyes itchy with tears he had become too accustom to shedding.
"Hello." The word came out before he could stop himself. He was desperate to have some type of conversation with this child, who he loved more than life itself, whether he really knew him or not. The boy stopped mid-step and slowly turned.
Harry said something, Remus knew, but he didn't hear it. He was too mesmerized by just how much Harry favoured his dead friends, how his eyes looked dull compared to how they once twinkled, and the shocked note in his voice that Remus couldn't understand.
Remus' words were said almost robotically, but that would have been impossible. There was too much emotion in his words, in his stomach, in his veins. It seemed to be thrusting itself upon him like a restless wave, drowning him slowly in salt water, filling his throat with liquid and he could barely breathe.
It was almost like he was losing them all over again.
"Are you happy?" He didn't know why he had chosen those words, he could have phrased it differently – hell he could have blurted out something even more incredibly stupid. Harry's eyes had grown even wider and Remus knew seconds after he spoke the words that they were not something you ask a child after you just met them. Yet, Harry small voice had cut him straight through, like the sharpest cutting curse created.
He had gone for answers, but Remus hadn't found the answer he wanted. He kicked the bookshelf in his small, modest living room. As much as he wanted to take Harry and raise him, showering him with the love and affection he knew Lily and James would have given him had things gone differently, he had still wanted him to be happy. Hewantedthe Dursley's to have had accepted the boy and loved him like a son. The fact that Harry answered his question with no hesitation and even looked back at the house with fearful eyes, killed Remus inside.
That was it. He was getting his godson away from those horrible people. He needed a plan, and fast.
Gringotts Bank
Gringotts prided itself on two things: security of its treasures and prospering wealth. For those wizards intelligent enough, they allowed the goblins to control their finances – control which companies they made investments in or how to pay off debts or which field to give their donations too. You could trust a goblin with your gold, because they liked it too much to do anything but help it grow. Yet, most wizards believed that goblins were below them and deserved to bow to human's feet, kiss their robes, and hand over all their secrets. Goblins were fierce and magically powerful, and one could never claim a goblin has the cruel disease of stupidity. However, they did have a mean reputation for being very vicious in battle and very sour in a normal environment. But, if shown the proper respect (for goblins were worth just as much as humans and did not deserve the frowns that were shown at them from high noses and not in the least intimidating eyes), they could make you rich when you started with only seven gallons to your name. You had to be willing to take risks though, and Remus wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.
While Remus never had much money, he had given free standing for the goblins to do with it as they saw fit. He was not rich, for his small vault was still poorly empty, but he had another option up his sleeve. It was one had never planned on using, for it never felt right, but he had no other choice now – he needed to get Harry far away from the Dursley's and he knew he could never gain Dumbledore's support, in fact the old wizard might just take Harry away should he be aware of Remus' plan. The blond Marauder didn't believe Dumbledore would leave Harry in the Dursley's care should he have stood in Remus' place today, but the man was more than likely to whisk Harry away to another 'safe' place and take away all Remus' chances of connecting with him. But Remus had enough of Dumbledore's interventions. Harry was his godson and it was about time he held true to the title of godfather, an honour that he was still certain he didn't deserve.
"I'd like to talk to the manager of the Potter vaults." Remus asked politely upon finding himself standing in front of one information goblin seated in his high stool, a wooden desk under his nose. Remus glanced around discreetly, making sure that no one had overheard him. It wouldn't do for this to get back to Dumbledore's ears, so he would have to act quickly and secretively. It wouldn't be as difficult for him as may be for someone else (but he shouldn't be arrogant about it either, Lily's voice whispered in his ear) – he was a Marauder and former prankster. Former because he didn't have anyone to prank anymore, no one to share the fun with. No James or Peter or Sirius.
The goblin eyed him critically, taking in his worn robes and scarred cheek. Remus forced himself not to sigh, for he knew the goblin wasn't likely to believe his claims because of his shabby appearance when the Potters' wealth was as high as mountains. Remus used to get clothes and books for Christmases and birthdays from his friends, more because he refused their charity. He was a grown man and he could make a living for himself, werewolf or not. However, he knew they just cared and wanted to make sure he was already. He would give up all those presents, even when he had really needed them, just to have his friends back.
"Identification?" The goblin asked in a bored tone.
"Remus Lupin."
The goblin muttered something to himself and the single parchment on his desk glowed briefly, going unnoticed by every other wizard in the bank but Remus. Goblin magic had always fascinated him, but there wasn't much knowledge on their ways, for they were a very secretive bunch. Remus did know, however, like house elves and veelas and most other magical creatures, they did not need a wand to access their magical cores.
After sneering down at the parchment, the goblin pulled itself from its chair expertly and gesture to Remus to follow him. The fleeting thought of asking the goblin's name was shoved from his head quickly, for he knew that the goblin would not take kindly to that. They did not believe in friendly small talk.
"Here." The goblin stopped and opened a door. Inside was a larger goblin, not much taller than the one that was already stalking swiftly down the hall. He had a wrinkled face, making him look fiercer than the younger goblins out in the main hall.
"Mr. Lupin." The older goblin greeted curtly, nodding to the seat in front of his circular desk.
Remus sat a bit uncomfortably, for the goblin was looking at him unblinkingly.
"State your business." He growled out, though not unkindly.
Remus cleared his throat. "Harry Potter, heir to the Potter fortune, was left in my care in the previous heir and wife's will. However, Mr. Potter was forced from my care by...outside persons, and is now coming to my home. I am in need of a key to enter the Potter vault so that I may efficiently provide for him, as well as the list of the main Potter properties, for Mr. Potter's safety is my uppermost priority." Finishing, Remus took a steadying breath, hoping he had gotten the words out correctly. James or even Sirius would have a much more relaxing time dealing with the goblins, for that information was a part of their upbringing – they were heirs to a large fortune and would have to one day manage it and make sure that the gold continued to flow. Remus was from a poor family and had no such need of that lesson.
"The Potters left a key for the guardian of their son. When he comes of age, such key will disintegrate. Other keys must then be generated by the heir." The goblin stated, as if said a hundred times before. He probably has, Remus thought. "Blood will be needed to verify your identity and access to young Mr. Potter's finances."
Remus held out his hand wordlessly, only flinching slightly as the goblin pulled a small, harsh looking dagger from his draw and sliced a nice cut into his palm. He then moved the dagger, which had a good amount of blood on it, onto a piece of parchment and flicked it. The blood seemed to be absorbed by the paper, before the cut healed on Remus' hand. He looked down briefly, wondering how it healed magically when neither he nor the goblin had done any magic – or at least, he didn't think the goblin had.
"You are accepted." The goblin's hands lit up for a nanosecond, and a folder appeared in front of the goblin with a tiny, gold key sitting on top. He held the objects out to Remus, continuing, "A list of all investments, properties, and the current amount – pardon any objects – in Mr. Potter's trust vault and family vault. He shall be given a key to his trust vault on his eleventh birthday to do as he pleases or as his guardian sees fit. Since you only have partial control, you are unable to change any investments, make withdraws over three hundred gallons, or remove any objects from the vault until Mr. Potter's coming of age."
"Thank you." Remus nodded, a small smile on his face. The goblin didn't say anything, so he took that as a cue, moving towards the door, which was opened by a much smaller goblin, who walked him back to the main entrance.
Looking around the marble hall, he then considered his options.
Remus had never intended to access the Potter vaults, not wanting to believe he couldn't support Harry on his own, but hecouldn't. He wanted Harry to have nice clothes and not second hand books and presents all the time (he did not want to spoil Harry, but he didn't want him to be looked down on for things he should have always had). He also needed to take him to one of the Potter locations, for the wards would be much stronger than the ones around his small cottage. It would also be easier to keep Harry protected during the full moon if he had the large basement of the Potter Manor at his fingertips. A feeling of dread began pushing itself from his fingertips to his toes. What if Harry hates me for being a werewolf? What if he's scared? What if he doesn't want to stay with me?
Shaking his head vigorously, probably looking like madman to the other beings in the bank, Remus sternly told himself to get his act together. If Harry decided that he didn't want to live with Remus, he would do his best to make sure he made it to a safe and happy place. But still there was a chill in his fingertips that wouldn't go away, icy and smirking.
Potter Manor
The Potter Manor was a basically a huge castle, or at least that had been Peter's words when James had invited the two of them over for three weeks at the end of summer, right before their seventh year. Sirius had already been living there since the beginning of the holiday, finally content with the idea his parents would never change. He had run away and gone immediately to James, allowing the older boy to bring him to his parents and allow them to nurse his bruises and give him a home.
Remus stared, feeling the bile in the back of his throat. It had been so long, too long since he had stood in this entrance hall, looking onto the large living room that he had spent hours in on rainy days, playing chess with Peter and joking around with James and Sirius. He found himself walking along the familiar halls, pressing his hand to the smooth walls and forgetting himself in memories. He could see their ghosts as they talked and laughed in various positions and parts of the house. He could see Mrs. Potter yelling atthemwith blue hair and Mr. Potter hiding a grin behind his hand and a laugh behind a gruff coughing fit.
Remus closed his eyes and straightened his shoulders. He didn't come here to walk down memory lane and get stuck in the past. He came here to make sure it was safe and check the wards, before he brought – if Harry agreed – his godson home to the house he's father had grown up in.
Scrubbing his hands over his face, Remus set to work. He could feel the thrum of the wards in the back of his head, waiting to be powered and given direction. On most old manors like this one, the wards had so many layers and so many different wizards' magic intertwined with it, they had basically become capable of thought, following the wishes of the current owner. Harry would claim that title of owner and control of the wards on his seventeenth birthday, but for now, Remus would be able to bring the dormant wards alive and direct them to keep Harry safe from harm. Because that's all he really wants, even if Harry doesn't want to be safe with his godfather, he'd find someone else who would love the child and give him a proper home.