March 16, 1988

Judging by the angle of the sunlight streaming in the large window, Lily Potter was late.

Stretching her arms over her head, she twisted and turned in an attempt to dispel the tension and lingering soreness that came from kneading and rolling dough all morning. She trailed her fingertips over her tools, ensuring they were all in their appropriate places before walking to the entrance and unlocking the door.

Lily had barely made it back to the counter before the door chimed. The silver bells' tinkles alerted her to her first customer of the day, and the lightness of their steps told her they weren't even old enough for Hogwarts. Ever since she'd opened Potter's Prodigious Pastries, her shop had been a magnet for the children in Diagon Alley.

Her friends were hesitant when she announced she was going to open a bakery, two years after that fateful Halloween night. She never regretted her decision. The time she spent here, the sounds of happiness and cheer from her patrons was a balm on the open and bleeding wound of Harry's disappearance.

"Hi, Miss Lily."

The familiar greeting brought a smile to her face. Lily held a hand out towards the indistinct, towheaded blur, feeling the girl's soft blonde curls beneath her fingertips. "Hello Hannah. You waited outside again? I thought I taught you the secret knock for when you arrive early?"

The girl was quiet, her voice low and hesitant. "I meant to, but…"

LIly nodded. "It's okay. Everyone gets stuck in their own heads now and again. But do you know what the best solution to busy thoughts is?"

"Cookies?"

She laughed, taking one of Hannah's hands in her own, using the other to feel for the counter or wall to orient herself in the room. "That's right! You're such a bright girl, dear!"

Of all her regulars, Hannah Abbott occupied a special place of importance. Only two years had passed since a routine tour of a hippogriff ranch left her mother dead and her father permanently residing in the long-term care ward at St. Mungo's. It was like they were each missing a piece of themselves, their respective losses offering a sort of familiarity.

The little girl held a cookie in her hands, but made no move to eat it. "Where's Susan?" Lily prompted.

"She's having lunch at the Leaky Cauldron. We went to see my dad today."

"Oh, sweetie." Lily crouched down and hugged the little girl. She wished she could make out Hannah's expression. "I'm sorry. Did Amelia force you to go?"

Hannah put the cookie on the countertop and then returned Lily's embrace, vehemently shaking her head. "No! When he gets better, I- I want him to know I was there. He's my dad, I want to see him."

"But it's hard, isn't it?"

"Yes." Hannah's reply was whisper-quiet, and her small frame hitched against Lily's. "It's really hard."

They stayed like that for a few more moments, two people whose worlds had been yanked out from beneath them, until Lily released her and stood. "Did you talk to Amelia about this?" Hannah didn't reply. "You should. She cares about you, I'm sure she wants to know how you feel."

"She does lots of really important work. I just… I wanted to come see you. Is- is that okay?"

On the inside, a fist squeezed Lily's heart. "Sure. That's just fine, sweetheart." Lily reached out for the counter, sliding her hand over the surface to orient herself as she stood, before swallowing her emotion. "If I remember correctly, isn't Susan's birthday coming up? Would you like me to help bake you a cake for her?"

Hannah wasn't as enthusiastic as Lily thought she'd be, shifting her weight between her feet. "Auntie didn't give me any coins."

"Then it's a good thing you'll be baking it, not me! Come along and I'll get you started…" Lily paused, recognising the sudden sweet, citrusy scent of lemon drops that wafted through the bakery, her eyes unconsciously narrowing. "Here's a bowl for you, and in the chiller are a dozen eggs. You'll need to crack four of them, and make certain you get all the shells out!"

Once she was certain Hannah was suitably occupied, she turned to the front of her shop. "What are you doing here, Albus?"

"I must admit, when you told me Sirius provided you with the gold to open a bakery, I hadn't thought you would be so successful. What you've created is a remarkable accomplishment, my dear."

"What do you want?" she asked again.

Dumbledore let out a heavy sigh. "I come once more to plead for your aid. Alice Longbottom was murdered last night."

"Why should I help you, when you refuse to do the same for me?"

His fuzzy white outline approached. "You must make your peace with what happened. Harry is gone, and nothing I do will bring him back."

"He's alive, I know it! I gave you my memory, you must have heard him as well as I did!"

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed, "I heard what you did in your memory. But I would encourage you to recall why pensieves are not employed in court proceedings. I heard what you thought you did that night."

"You're saying I imagined the entire thing?!"

"I'm saying," he said, in that quiet and knowing way that never failed to infuriate her, "that you were suffering under the backlash of unstable magic no one has ever attempted. If Harry survived that night, where is he? Why has no one seen him in the years since?"

"Sirius is looking-"

"Sirius is trying to start over in Calenburg Court. He contacted me last week to say his search was fruitless. You must accept the truth, Lily - Harry perished that night the same as the Dark Lord."

"You're lying, Sirius wouldn't- he would have told me…"

"I'm certain he is as anguished over this as you, or he would have. It's been seven years. You must accept that the most likely answer is the one we've feared from the beginning."

Lily put a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob, the memory of Harry's cries that Halloween night as fresh as though she'd heard it the night before. It wasn't her imagination, he did survive.

Or… was that the only lie she could come up with to forgive herself for subjecting her son to an experimental combination of supposedly incompatible magic?

"Go away, Albus."

"I beg you to reconsider. If you shared your research, perhaps the defence you created could be modified for safe application. Think of the lives you could save-"

"I don't have any answers for you. If you want to stop the bloodshed, why don't you go kill the people that are causing it?"

He was silent for several seconds, and eventually turned away. "Very well. I will take my leave."

Even after he left, Lily remained by the counter, fighting to tamp down her grief. Harry's loss was like a gaping chasm in her soul, and without the hope that he was still out there, that he still might be found, then…

What was there left to live for?

"Miss Lily?" A tiny hand slid into her own. "Are you sad?"

Lily plastered a smile on her face, but she didn't need to be blind to know Hannah could see right through it. "No. I just got stuck in my head for a moment."

Hannah's blurry outline clambered up the counter, grabbing something and handing it to Lily. A cookie. "For your busy thoughts," the girl said, seriously.

Wiping her eyes, she threw an arm around Hannah and gave her a light squeeze. "Thank you, sweetheart. Now, let's see about this cake, shall we?"

Sweat poured down his back, making his shirt cling to him like a second skin. Raising his hat to swipe at his dripping brow, he cast anxious glances over his shoulder as he hurried along the crowded footpath.

He crashed into a stack of crates levitated by an elderly wizard, sending cauldrons tumbling all over the cobblestone street. The old man's shout of "Watch it, ya knob!" went unheeded.

Were they still on his trail? Had he lost them? He ducked into an alley, groaning as he saw the dead end waiting for him. Bloody Calenburg Court, with its nonsensical walls and unfamiliar layout! He knew he should have tried his luck in Canada!

The Hanoverian magical community took their secrecy seriously, with high walls surrounding their central community. The walls were enchanted, spelled not only to render all of the town invisible to muggles, but to keep magicals from entering or exiting outside of official access points. He was trapped.

There was a bin nearby, with refuse and discarded materials too large to easily Vanish, so he dove into the dross and muck to hide. A swiftly cast Disillusionment Charm later, he crouched as motionless as he could. No sooner had he done so, six men rounded the corner and peered into the alley.

"You're sure you saw him turn here?"

"A low-life like him tends to stand out in Calenburg Court."

"Fair enough. You, with me; the rest of you, keep out any passers-by."

They poked around, knocking over bins at the head of the alley and beginning a slow and methodical search towards him.

"So what'd you do?"

The whispered words came from above, and sure enough, a small child sat crouched in a laundry chute, peering down at the scene below. Despite frantic gestures to sod off, the child didn't go away, his curious gaze darting between the hidden man and those seeking him out.

The boy was young, perhaps seven or eight, with thick glasses obscuring bright green eyes. There was a fine layer of dirt and grime from the chute coating him, but not enough to obscure the finely tailored clothes he wore. "Are you a criminal?"

"No!" he hissed as quietly as he could. "S'all a misunderstanding!"

"Those don't look like aurors," the boy said thoughtfully. "And they don't seem very friendly."

"Go away!"

A firm grip on his collar jerked him out of his hiding place. "Oh, we won't be going anywhere, not without dragging you along behind us. I see you've decided to nest in your natural habitat, Fletcher."

Mundungus held out his hands to show he was unarmed and plastered what he hoped was a charming smile onto his face. "Willy! What chance, running into you in Hanover of all places! First round's on me, whaddya say, lads?"

"You'll be paying alright, you dodgy fuck. You owe us fifteen-thousand Galleons!"

"What- you mean that business with the brooms? I had nothing to do with that! I told you before that I was just a go-between!"

"Sure you were, to a buyer that didn't exist! We want our gold back!"

"If I had it, I'd give it to you, I really would! I'm as much a victim as the rest of you, I am!"

Willy - well, Wilhelm if you want to be technical - pressed his wand to the small of Dung's back and whispered an incantation. A shock of fiery agony lanced out from the base of his spine, and he couldn't hold back a scream.

"Stop! Please stop!" he wheezed. "I swear, if I had your gold I'd give it to you, I- ahhhh!"

How did he always land himself in messes like this? Mundungus had been hired by a group wealthy patrons in Hanover - the ones currently torturing him - about purchasing a set of professional broomsticks for Calenburg Court's fledgling quidditch team. He'd reached out and made a deal with an old connection who was supposedly sitting on a supply of Comet racing brooms and…

Well, maybe Dung should've inspected the merchandise before approving the transfer. So he was sloppy, big deal! It wasn't his fault they were all swindled!

Just then, an empty milk carton bounced off of Wilhelm's head.

"What the-? It's a kid!"

"Move along, brat, if you know what's good for you!" the other man in the alley said.

"You're not being very nice," the green-eyed boy from the laundry chute said in a matter-of-fact way.

"I said piss off, you- whoa!"

Dung watched in disbelief as a flash of light engulfed both men. When he blinked, Wilhelm had lost his footing and fallen heavily on his arse, while his associate appeared in the midst of a painful attempt at doing the splits. All the while, the little boy giggled madly.

"Get him!" But neither was able to find solid footing, like they were standing on ice. Mundungus stood up, looking in confusion between the laughing child and the men who pursued him. "What the bloody hell?"

Wilhelm's associate, groaning at what was likely a pulled groin muscle, managed to right himself by taking off his shoes. He stalked over to the boy, grabbing him by the neck and jabbing his wand into his cheek. "You think that's funny, do you?"

Now was the time to make an escape, but Dung couldn't leave a little boy to their tender mercies. Even cowards have their limits, he supposed. "Oi! 'e's just a kid, leave 'im be!"

"You'll get yours, don't worry," Willhelm muttered, having followed his associate's lead and removed his shoes to regain his footing. "Now, what's your name, boy?"

"Harry," the child said, looking remarkably unafraid.

Willhelm brushed the refuse off of his robes, glaring imperiously at the restrained child. "Well, 'Harry', let it never be said that the von der Decken's are not charitable to the rabble. Apologise, and you may be on your way."

"What about him?" the boy gestured to Dung.

"He is little more than a common thief, and will face the consequences for his actions. Now, go; off with you." A nod to Wilhelm's associate saw the little boy released.

"You were hurting him," Harry said, glancing in Dung's direction. 'Was that mischief in his eyes?' "When someone breaks the law, you're supposed to call the aurors. That's what Tante Hilde says."

"I won't tell you again, boy, run along and- oof!"

Harry ran, alright, darting forward and sliding between Wilhelm's legs, grabbing hold of his robes as he ran. The expensive material didn't tear, though, instead pitching the heir to Hanover's most influential wizarding family face-first into the muck, to the child's obvious delight.

"Incarcerous!" Harry's laughter continued despite being caught - again - by the other man, and Dung felt a quiver of fear for the little boy at the expression Wilhelm wore as he picked himself up off the ground.

"Well, you had your chance, you little vermin," Wilhelm growled, brandishing his wand and stalking towards the child. "I'm going to-"

A Disarming Charm collided with Wilhelm, the dark blue of a bludgeoner striking his associate a moment later. At the head of the alley, where there had been four men now stood only one, striding towards them in obvious fury. A man Mundungus recognised.

"Sirius!"

Wilhelm's brow furrowed at Dung's call, and his gaze fell upon the insignia over the breast of Sirius' robes. "Lord Black? What are you-"

"Stupefy. Are you alright, son?"

Still bound with conjured ropes, Harry nonetheless replied with a cheerful "Yep!"

"Sirius, I mean, Lord Black - congratulations by the way on your inheritance - you don't know how glad I am to-"

"Shut up, Dung," Sirius said, vanishing the ropes around Harry and patting him down to make certain he wasn't injured. "Run along and find Hilde. Run straight home, do you understand?"

"Yes, Father." All traces of the pranking wild-child were gone, and Harry seemed to make an attempt to match Sirius' aloof expression before taking off as fast he was able.

Free at last of any immediate danger, Mundungus whipped out a handkerchief and mopped up the sweat on his brow, then tried to do the same for his underarms. 'Merlin that was close!' "Appreciate the back-up, my good man, though you're about the last person I'd've expected to find in Hanov-" he trailed off, the sequence of events replaying in his mind. "Wait. Harry?" His mind instantly recalled the little boy's face, superimposing it on his memories of their mutual comrade from the Order. "Surely that's not Harry P-"

"I already said to shut up, didn't I?" Sirius kept his eyes on the two unconscious men at his feet. "Do they know who he is?"

"Erm, well, yea. It might'a come up. He introduced himself to us."

Sirius took a slow breath and closed his eyes, a deep frown appearing on his face. A second later, the green flash of a Killing Curse lanced out, twice, and the von der Decken family was down one heir. Dung froze, feeling like his feet were stuck to the ground as Sirius turned his attention on him.

"Wait wait wait! What are you doing?! You can't just go around killing people like this!" Dung willed himself to move, to run, but his knees were shaking so badly it was all he could do to remain upright. "Obliviate me! That way I won't tell no one!"

"The Memory Charm can be reversed," Sirius stated calmly, bringing his wand to bear on Mundungus. "It's nothing personal."

"You're making a mistake! I can help you!"

An eyebrow raised at that, and Sirius paused. "Really."

"Yes! I can- uh, I've got…" Various cons and scams flew in and out of his mind as he desperately tried to conjure something to placate the emotionless man before him.

In the end, it was the same boy that had already saved him once that day who came through for Mundungus again. "Father?"

"I told you to go straight home, Harry."

"I will," he replied, taking in the scene before him. "But I wanted to ask if Mr. Fletcher can come over for dinner."

A long silence greeted his request, before Mundungus licked his dry lips and said, "Nobody calls me Fletcher but bill collectors and aurors, kid. M'friends call me Dung."

The boy's nose scrunched up at that. "Yuck!"

Another heartbeat passed, and then Sirius lowered his wand. "Let's go."

They marched out of the alley and began what was, by far, the most surreal walk of Mundungus' life. He was sandwiched between a cheerful little boy that was supposed to be dead, and the grim-faced head of one of Britain's wealthiest and most influential families who, by the way, had just murdered two men.

Upon entering a stately home, one that was large by cramped Hanoverian standards, an attractive young woman greeted them with a flurry of panicked German. Harry responded in kind, sounding contrite, but Sirius interrupted them both.

"Hilde, instruct the elves to begin packing. It's time to leave."

"Was? Warum?"

"No questions! Hurry!"

He was alone with Sirius once more. "So… going on holiday, mate?"

"You're going to give me an Unbreakable Vow."

"Sure. No problem at all," Dung agreed easily, very cognisant that he was standing next to a man who'd killed two men not long ago. "Whatever you say, guv'nor!"

His cooperation seemed to amuse Sirius, who chuckled and shook his head. "Of all the alleys in all of Europe, he had to pick yours."

Hilde murmured his name, calling him back to bed, but Sirius was restless, unable to sleep. He did his best to ruthlessly quash the unease that bubbled within him, but try as he might, failed to do so. He'd killed two men today.

No, that wasn't right. He'd murdered two helpless men today.

"I need to get a drink."

"Ich komme mit," Hilde offered, clutching the sheet to her breast as she sat up, but Sirius waved her offer away. She needed her rest, especially after the madness from earlier. He pulled on his shirt and trousers, pausing to lace up his boots before leaving the bedroom, creeping past where Harry slept on a pull-out cot.

They'd fled Hanover as soon as Hilde was able to pack their essential belongings. Harry's newest guardian, eager to prove his worth to his new 'employer', managed to purloin a set of portkeys from Merlin-knows-where. Not even twelve hours had passed from the incident in the alley to now, drinking a tumbler of vodka in Russia.

Sirius motioned to the innkeeper for another, pushing his empty glass away and glancing over the customers inside the crowded bar area. He'd need to find a home, soon; judging by this inn's patrons, it offered anonymity but catered to a rougher sort of clientele. Naturally, Dung fit in like a niffler in a gold mine; Sirius caught sight of him at the edges of a dice game.

The innkeeper returned with his drink, and Sirius dropped a few coins onto the bar. Had he made a mistake in trusting Fletcher? The Vow would prevent him from flapping his lips, and Harry could never have too many people protecting him.

Still, it was Mundungus. He'd need to have a word with Hilde and request that she supervise the time Dung spent with Harry.

Flagging the innkeeper down, Sirius trotted out his rusty German language skills. "Sprechen Sie Deutsch?"

"Net. But I do speak English," he said with a grin, revealing a missing front tooth almost completely hidden beneath his enormous black beard.

"How did you know?" Sirius asked quietly, not eager to draw undue attention to himself.

"You come with him, da?" The innkeeper gestured with his chin in Dung's direction. "He say you settle drink tab."

Reaching into his trousers, Sirius pulled out a handful of coins and slid them over. "I had a few questions for you, about the Invisible City."

"First time in Kitezh?" When Sirius nodded, the man smiled again. This time it was not so innocent. "What you want to know?"

"I'm considering a vacation home here. Something quiet. I don't like to be disturbed."

The man let out a booming laugh. "Rich men drink in Kitezh, no live in Kitezh. Yuri! Yuri!" A thin, weedy man who looked like Mundungus' Slavic doppleganger approached, dish towel over his shoulder. The innkeeper rattled off a long burst of Russian.

"You want to live in the Invisible City?" Yuri asked, in much better English than the innkeeper. "Rich guys like you don't live in Kitezh. Not enough room for all their stuff."

"So where do they live?"

"Up there," Yuri gestured vaguely upwards. "My cousin has some land for sale, if you're interested."

"Maybe. Thanks for the information." Sirius threw back the last of his vodka, nodding to the innkeeper and his employee, and then stood up from the bar. He'd been away from Hilde and Harry for too long already.

That fact was driven home as he ascended the stairs. Crouched in front of the room of their rented room, a hooded man was poking and prodding the lock with his wand, clearly attempting to defeat the locking charm Sirius had left.

The would-be intruder let out a squeak of fright, then a cry of pain when Sirius grabbed the nape of his neck and rammed his face into the door, hearing the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking.

Leaning down close to the moaning man, he said, "If you ever try to break into my room again, I'll kill you." Then he flung the man down the stairs.

Harry was awake when he entered, his bright green eyes curious. "Did you forget which room was ours?"

"Go back to sleep, Harry. I promise we'll explore tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," the child agreed, but his eyes followed Sirius as he stumbled over to a chair, dropping heavily into the seat.

The boy was a handful, that was for sure. He'd driven off a half-dozen nannies before Sirius had found Hilde, and even then Harry ran off at least a few times per week. Trouble seemed to follow the kid wherever he went.

Or perhaps it was Harry who found trouble? 'Just like James' Sirius thought with a grin, which Harry happily returned. That was probably why he didn't come down more harshly on the seven year-old when he wandered off on his own. It was hard to not laugh along with whatever mischief he found himself involved with when his best friend's face smiled up at him.

Besides, he silently mused while Harry's eyes drifted closed once more, whatever powers the prophecy foretold would almost certainly keep him safe. Mundungus' retelling of the events in the alley before he'd arrived confirmed that. Harry would grow to be an immensely powerful wizard, Sirius was sure of it. Once he was prepared, they'd return to Britain for Harry to take on the mantle of his birth. He stood up and tugged the blankets more tightly around the boy, lightly running his hand over his familiar dark hair.

Harry would be the man James was meant to be. Sirius would make sure of it.