Raylynx's POV

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement stopped responding to my owls, and when I inquired further, a lower-level associate finally told me that they had been instructed to ignore me and then begged for me to leave him alone. I apologized for the inconvenience, but I told him I wasn't sorry for what I was doing and that I couldn't give up just because I was causing some people discomfort. As the guards dragged me out of there, I suddenly realized that I had learned that line from Jasper. "I can't say I'm sorry for what I am, but I know it was difficult for you, and for that, I am sorry."


I received a very cordial owl from the Weasley family a few days later, inviting me over to brunch.

"Oh, welcome, welcome!" Mrs. Weasley ushered me inside kindly. "Welcome to the Burrow!"

"Thank you," I said, stepping in. I immediately nearly broke my neck tripping over a toy broomstick, hovering just over the ground.

"Charlie!" Mrs. Weasley shouted. "How many times have I told you not to leave your broomstick lying around?"

"It's no worries, Mrs. Weasley," I said hastily.

A young boy, looking to be around eleven or so, came down the stairs, holding a toy model of a dragon in one hand.

"Mum, that wasn't me!" he insisted. "I told Fred not to touch it, but-"

"Fred, get down here!"

Another, slightly lankier but thinner boy, clearly a few years younger stumbled down the steps, hiding a little behind Charlie.

"I'm sorry, Mum…" he said shyly.

"George, I know full well your brother sent you out here! Get Fred down here!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, furious.

"Dear, we have a guest," Mr. Weasley said meekly.

"No, please, by all means, go ahead," I said, looking around the Burrow with interest.

There were all sorts of things piled up and scattered about. To my surprise, I caught various Muggle items there and there, though none of them seemed to be in the positions proper to their intended use.

Beside me, the household debate over the culprit behind the broomstick went on.

"But I am Fred!"

"George!"

"I'm Fred, Mum!"

"Er, over here, if you please," Mr. Weasley said, beckoning to a kitchen area with a dining table.

Two boys were sitting at the table already.

"This is my oldest, Bill. He's thirteen. And this is my third son, Percy, eight," Mr. Weasley introduced me.

I smiled at them both before sitting beside them.

"So you're already at Hogwarts?" I said to Bill.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'll be starting my third year."

"Oh, third year's great," I said. "Hogsmeade and elective classes… What about Quidditch, do you play?"

Somewhere, a baby wailed. I instinctively cringed a little, but Bill just carried on the conversation per normal. He shook his head and answered calmly, "I prefer watching, honestly."

He seemed so serene for a child his age. I wondered if it was because he was the eldest of so many siblings.

Percy folded his hands rather primly as he stared at me. I felt almost as though he were scrutinizing my moral character.

I was saved the trouble of forcing further conversation, however, as Mrs. Weasley burst onto the scene, holding her youngest, a baby girl, in one arm gently and tugging fiercely on a young boy's ear with the other.

"Fred Weasley! You apologize to the lady for leaving out your broomstick!"

We both looked at each other, startled.

Then, he said, "Er… I'm sorry, I guess."

"Um… that's okay," I murmured, sounding just as young as him.

Mrs. Weasley sighed and let him go, where he bounded off to join three boys gathered at the doorway to watch Fred get scolded.

"That'll have to do for now, I suppose," Mrs. Weasley sighed, shaking her head.

I watched as the youngest boy, only a few years old, stumbled as he tried to catch up with his brothers on the steps.

I smiled slightly as Mrs. Weasley put a steaming bowl of soup in front of me and a large chunk of bread with perfectly melted cheese. She did this all with her wand. Meanwhile, with her other hand, she patted her baby girl on the rump to soothe her from all the shouting.

Lily had once described Mrs. Weasley as a "violent force of good" and I could now see clearly what she meant.

As we ate and talked, Mr. Weasley asked Bill to fetch him the Daily Prophet from today.

He unfolded it before us.

"Do you still read the Daily Prophet?" I asked him. "Even though you work at the Ministry?"

"Yes, it's part of the job, I think, to know what the official statement is," Mr. Weasley explained.

I nodded.

He looked at the paper for a few minutes more before he turned it aside and started speaking earnestly to me about what it was like to live in a Muggle neighborhood.

He asked me about my parents and for some odd reason, perhaps because of his warm smile or his completely unaware nature of their deaths, I felt quite open in speaking about them to him.

I could see him furrow his brow as he realized I was talking about them only in past tense, but neither of us said anything. I was grateful for that. I was quite fond of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley by the end of brunch, and they made me promise to come over for tea in the following week. Over the months, I grew quite fond of the whole Weasley clan, and even though Mr. Weasley worked at the Ministry and had no doubt heard of my campaign to free Sirius, he didn't blacklist me in the slightest. For my part, I was respectful enough not to drag him into it.


But a whole year passed, and not a single person would listen to me. I wrote my own paper, detailing evidence of a lack of a Dark Mark and how Sirius' last spell had been a Tracking Spell. I wrote it several times over, trying to see it from an outsider's perspective. How can I convince someone- anyone- that there's doubt in this case.

For this bit of writing, I spent five days in a detention cell. They asked me how I had come upon the information that led me to his wand. I insisted that I had come across the documents during other research as an Auror. Umbridge wanted to force-feed me Veritaserum, but Amelia Bones prevented it, saying that it wasn't legal. Finally, on Bones' order, I was released.

I continued my campaign, but it wasn't until a mother with three children gave me a wide berth and muttered to her children, "You see, that's a crazy person. Pitiful, isn't it? I wondered what happened that was so traumatic it led her to live her life this way," that I felt utterly defeated.

That comment, made by a complete stranger, hit me harder than it should have. What happened that was so traumatic that led me to live my life this way? The metallic taste of blood and death was suddenly sharp in my mouth. I wanted to cry. My shoulders wilted, and the papers fell from my hand. I stared numbly in front of me, as people passed me by on all sides, no one sparing a glance for me or the papers on the floor that were now being trampled on. For one moment, my eyes caught the words, "Sirius Black may be innocent…" and then the words were obscured by a large, dirty boot that left mud smeared across Sirius' name.

A Ministry worker whispered to the man beside him, "She's crazy. Avoid her. I don't know why they won't drag her out."

"Believe me," someone else pitched in. "They've tried."

"She doesn't mean any harm," a voice answered gently. Footsteps sounded from behind me. A hand softly touch my shoulder.

"Come away. You've done enough for today."

I turned to see Mr. Weasley standing there.

My expression was blank, but Mr. Weasley's brow furrowed. Finally, he said, "Come, I'll take you to Molly."


Being at the Weasleys helped to take my mind off things. I came for tea or brunch once every one or two months and after some time had passed, Molly let me help her around the house. I was amazed at how busy she was, and impressed by the fact that she managed to keep everything functioning in a house with so many children. So it was without any hesitation that Mr. Weasley took me over to Molly that day. With a gentle pat on the shoulder, he left again for work.

"Molly," I said, for I had become close enough to them to call them by their first names. "Am I sick?"

Molly frowned and put her hand on my forehead. She peered into my face.

"You look a little pale, but that's a bit normal for you," Molly told me. "Why? Do you feel ill? Should I cook you up a batch of PepperUp Potion?"

I shook my head and sat at the table. "I think I'm seeing things that no one else sees… Hallucinating, only it doesn't go away for me. It must be a sort-of sickness, right?"

Molly looked at me with an odd, pitying expression on her face.

"I'll cook you up a nice soup. Maybe it will help," she said finally, and turned to the stove.

Three sets of wondering eyes peeked around the corner.

"Don't be a stranger," I coaxed. "Especially not in your own home. Come on out, Fred, George, Ron."

In fact, I knew them fairly well by this point, as I had come over every month to the Weasleys', but we played this game of caution every time and sometimes, we would play hide-and-seek outright and everyone would get involved. Bill and I often teamed up to find Charlie, Fred, George, and Ron. Percy considered himself too dignified to try to cram himself up into cupboards and Ginny was still too young to understand the game.

Fred came out first, his head held high. "I thought I smelled food," he explained.

"Sit down, Freddie. It'll be out in a moment," Mrs. Weasley answered. George came out, then, followed by Ron, the youngest son.

I paused and my eyes stayed on Ron as he made his way to the table. He was Harry's age now. I watched him clamber onto a stool. He swung his legs back and forth.

"How old are you, Ron?" I asked him.

He held up an open palm.

"Five?" I confirmed.

He nodded his little head.

Harry's five, too. I wonder what he looks like now, I thought wistfully.

Mr. Weasley came home shortly and as usual, opened up the newspapers first. I was grateful that neither Arthur nor Molly mentioned this morning. They acted as though I was just over for tea again.

"Oh, look," Mr. Weasley said. "A professor at Hogwarts has retired… Two, actually."

"Defense Against the Dark Arts, I bet," I muttered.

"Yes… and Ancient Runes," Mr. Weasley replied, scanning the column with interest.

"It's a shame," Bill commented, walking in to greet his father. Bill was now fourteen years old, and his cool demeanor was starting to mature into full-fledged charisma. I wonder if he was aware of his own aura.

"Ancient Runes is my favourite class," Bill said, sitting at the table next to Ron. "I hope they find a good replacement. I'd be a shame if I fall behind in my studies."

I looked at Bill curiously; not a whole lot of students appreciated Ancient Runes.

But before I could say anything, Charlie entered the room, though with difficulty, as Ginny had managed to latch onto one of his legs, her small hands tightly grasping his shin and a look of determination on her face. Fred and George laughed, and Ron's eyes widened and a half-smile played on his face, as though he wasn't sure whether to laugh or not. Percy entered the kitchen behind Charlie, but walked in with a straight back and rather strict expression. He hoisted himself onto a stool with an air of dignity that was comical for one as young as him. Mr. Weasley had on a bemused smirk as he gently untangled his youngest daughter from her brother's leg.

I found myself genuinely smiling at the evident warmth and good cheer of the Weasley family. I was sure that if Lily and James, and Alice and Frank, and Marlene and Dorcas, and Peter survived, and Sirius wasn't locked up in Azkaban, the same atmosphere would surround little Harry and Neville as they grew up. My heart ached, and I resolved that I would do whatever it took to see Harry.


Around that time, when Harry was five, I discovered that the Dursleys would often leave Harry under Mrs. Figg's care as they went off and vacationed or whatnot.

I watched as Mr. Dursley instructed Mrs. Figg, "A warning about the boy- he gets reckless when he's happy. So, just give him food and water until we're back, Mrs. Figg. That'll do."

My fur bristled with indignation. When Mr. Dursley exited the house, I yowled at him and scratched at his ankles. He aimed a heavy kicked at me, but I dodged him and hissed furiously.

"Bloody mangy stray" Mr. Dursley cursed, and left.

I tried to sneak into Mrs Figg's as a cat to see Harry.

She caught me, though she didn't recognize me as an Animagus, just as a stray cat, and gently forced me out, so I was reduced to standing on my hind legs to try to see Harry through the window.

And I saw him- my first glimpse of my godson.

I stopped breathing in awe, and my tail shot up.

He looked exactly like James.

My God! Merlin's beard!

I suddenly remembered James' cousin again and how he'd told me stories of when James was quite young.

This must be exactly what James looked like.

I gaped, my little cat jaw hitting the windowsill.

I don't know what I imagined. I don't think I expected Harry to be a ginger, but by Merlin, he looked so like James. I sternly forced back my emotions and struggled uncomfortably to keep holding myself up so I could continue to watch him. I'd never been so mesmerized in my life.


I continued to check in on Harry, always as a cat. Although, I once caught Petunia trying to pull Dudley's old sweater over Harry's head. He clearly didn't want to be in it. Infuriated, I transformed back and crouching in her garden and squashing her tomatoes, I whispered a Shrinking Spell.

However, I only had to cast the spell once, and then, to my surprise, the sweater continuously shrank. That was when I recognized that Harry's own magical powers were responding to mine.

I grinned. Harry was definitely magical. Of course he was- with his parents being who they were. They would have been so proud, so very proud.


Speaking of old friends, it was that time of year again. I left a bouquet of flowers for Alice and Frank. Neville had grown so much as well, under the watchful eye of Augusta Longbottom, as well as his aunts and uncles. He was truly a bouncing baby boy, though he was always careful under his grandmother's sharp eye and tongue. I would hand Augusta sweets to give to Neville, and it only took me a little while to realize that she only gave him the sweets that she personally approved of. It reminded me of her comment on "real cream", and I laughed heartily when I found out. Augusta was a real character, and I liked her for it. She had managed to maintain her fire even after the war, and I wondered in amazement how she did it. Mine was a flame in a strong wind- nearly dead.

I brought flowers to everyone else's graves as well. Remus came with me.

"I saw Harry," I told him. "Remus, he looks exactly like James. It's incredible."

"Of course he does," Remus replied. He smiled wanly. "Somehow, I expected that."

"James would have been so proud," I said, imagining James' beaming face. "He would have rubbed it in Lily's face, I bet."

Remus smiled. "They used to have such terrific fights."

I nodded. "Remember when James and Sirius snuck Harry out for a ride on Sirius' motorbike? I was certain that Lily was going to murder them both."

"Oh yes, that happened, didn't it?" Remus said, his voice amused. "I do remember warning them against it."

"I wonder if Harry remembers any of that," I said wistfully.

"You can tell him all about it when he's older," Remus said kindly.

I nodded, but inside, I made a promise to myself: We'll tell him about it when he's older- me, Remus, and Sirius, together.


I risked going up to Mrs. Figg one time in my human form.

"Can you just… buy him a bit of cake or something?" I tried to coax her while offering her money.

Mrs. Figg looked at me suspiciously. I tried to force her to take my money, but she resolutely closed her hand into a fist.

"Who are you?" she questioned me.

"I'm an old friends of Harry's parents," I told her. "I know the Dursleys won't like me, so I've no intention of bothering them. I just want Harry to have a nice time for once."

I held the money out to her again. "Please?"

Mrs. Figg gave me a beady stare before she sighed. "Very well," she said. I held up the money, but she snapped, "I can afford a bit of cake!"

She shut the door rather unceremoniously in my face. I barely pulled back my hand in time.


My hand tiredly scrawled over the parchment, writing out for what felt like the millionth time, "Please re-consider the detention of Sirius Black. Sirius Black was never a Death Eater nor was he involved in any other allegiance with Voldemort…"

My eyes felt as weary as my soul, and soon my heavy eyelids slipped shut. I fell asleep, dreaming uneasily of a house on fire at the edge of a cliff, and the broken pieces crashed into the tumultuous ocean below.

"Raylynx."

I opened my eyes blearily and sat up. My hair fell over my face, so I pushed it back with my hand and turned my head to find Remus standing at my side.

"I'm sorry I just came in. But you did invite me, and when you didn't answer the door, I was worried," Remus explained.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Remus," I said, trying to chase the exhaustion out of my voice. "I knew you were coming over. I just fell asleep. I'm sorry."

Remus seemed to look at me up and down before his eyes fell on the stacks of parchment I was scribbling away on. His brow furrowed and his eyes flashed with a strange emotion that I couldn't recognize at first.

"Raylynx," he said, and his voice was stern. "This can't be all you do."

My eyes followed his gaze to the stacks of papers in front of me. I had been so intent on working on one piece of parchment after another that I didn't realize how high the stacks had gotten. And it was true that this was all I had been doing for the past year. Fortunately, I didn't have to pay rent, but my money was slowly being dried up by the monthly payments of electricity, water, and gas. I spent little on food since I barely ate. The last time I went to the Weasleys', Molly had practically force-fed me a whole chicken. I still felt a bit sick just thinking about it.

Remus reached forward and grabbed my wrist. I was startled by how easily his hand fit all the way around. After all, he wasn't the most large-statured of men, either. His fingers were fine and graceful.

"Look at you," Remus said, his voice taunt. "You're malnourished. You're starving yourself."

"I'm not," I said, gently pushing his hand away. "I'm a little less preoccupied with food, sure, but I can easily fix that."

"Then fix it," Remus countered. His voice was almost a snap.

I was fully awake now. I looked up at him, confused and defensive.

"Remus?" I said, confused. "I'm sorry I fell asleep on you, but you're unusually upset. Did I do something? Or did something else happen? What's wrong?"

"Raylynx…" Remus said, ignoring my concerned questions. "You're not alive."

I frowned. "How can you say that? I'm one of the only ones left." My voice was rising, too. What the hell did Remus mean by that?

"I'm sorry. That was a bad choice of words. But if you could see yourself… You're like a ghost. It's like you don't remember what decade it is anymore," Remus explained.

"Remus," I said, and my voice hardened. "It's only been a few years-"

"-Five years-" Remus interrupted.

"And the majority of those five years, I was busy being an Auror," I pointed out.

"Yes, but…" Remus shook his head. "You haven't let go once in these past five years. You would sacrifice your job and well-being to get Sirius a trial… You have sacrificed your job and well-being for Sirius. This isn't you. The Raylynx I knew, the Raylynx five years ago, would never succumb to this kind-of illogical behavior, no matter how much she wanted to. It's the reason you left the Order, remember? Because you thought we were out of touch with the reality of things."

"No, that's not why I left," I countered. "I left because what the Order wanted- what Dumbledore wanted- didn't coincide with what I saw my own duties to be. And it's exactly the same now. Nothing's changed, Remus."

Remus fell silent. Finally, he said, "Sirius would never want this of you. If Sirius was at all the man I thought he was, then he would want you to be happy."

I laughed bitterly. "What happiness is left for us, Remus?"

Remus knelt down beside me and said, almost pleadingly, "That's exactly the question we have to answer now- and I don't know what the answer is, but I am certain that whatever happiness may exist is to be found in the future and not in the past. Not in the past. Not in holding on, but by letting go."

I stared at him. "Remus, you loved him. You loved him as much as I did."

Remus sighed. "Yes, but I have no delusions about what he is. He was capable of hurting others. He always was. And he was Lily and James' Secret-Keeper."

"Why didn't he stop at murdering Lily and James then, huh?" I challenged. "Then he could have taken Harry as his legal guardian and then handed Harry over to Voldemort."

"I don't know." Remus' voice was filled with anguish. He turned away from me as though his back would shield him from my words. "I don't know."

"You see, Remus? There's hope-"

He cut me off. "Maybe he just couldn't actually bring himself to end their lives himself. But consider, Raylynx, just picture- what if he did commit the crime he was imprisoned for? What if you secure a trial, and it all turns out to be true? What then?"

"Then… Then I'll stop fighting for him." The words came out slow and pained and as soon as I said them, an irrational bitterness and indignation rose up within me.

"Is that what you wanted me to say?" I said, barely containing my anger. My voice rose, despite my best efforts, into a shout. "Is that what you wanted to hear, huh? For me to say, 'I give up, you're right, he's a traitor-!"

Suddenly, Remus grabbed both my wrists in his hands and squeezed them. His nails dug into my wrists. I winced.

For one mad moment, I thought he was going to either hit me or kiss me- not out of any desire for violence or sex, but out of a sheer will to overpower me.

My breath caught as shock registered in my system. His eyes were burning with some haunted fire.

"Remus," I breathed out. "You're hurting me."

He dropped his hands and stood back on his feet, tripping backwards and away from me.

"Remus," I said.

He wouldn't look at me.

I got up from my seat and stepped towards him.

Remus turned on his heels and left.

A stunning silence remained in his absence. For the first time in a long time, I had managed to see a glimpse of the true depth of the pain that Remus was holding inside. I slowly sat back down in my chair. But I didn't have long to ponder before the doorbell rang again. I got up and went to the front door. When I opened it, Dumbledore was standing there.