Chapter 1

Show Notes

Chapter 1 of Hope's Cottage
An AU series where it was not the Full Moon the night Peter is discovered in POA so Peter is successfully brought to justice and the summer after POA, Harry Potter moves in with his godfather Sirius Black, and his former professor, Remus Lupin. The three of them have much to adjust to, and plenty of looming threats over their heads, but this is a new beginning for them all.

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Author's Summary
An AU series where it was not the Full Moon the night Peter is discovered in POA so Peter is successfully brought to justice and the summer after POA, Harry Potter moves in with his godfather Sirius Black, and his former professor, Remus Lupin. The three of them have much to adjust to, and plenty of looming threats over their heads, but this is a new beginning for them all.

Albus Dumbledore cleared his throat softly, “The Minister of Magic and members of the Wizengamot will be arriving momentarily to witness Alastor Moody’s interrogation of Mr. Pettigrew with Vertiaserum. I must join these events. Sirius?”

Sirius Black only turned slightly in his chair toward Dumbledore’s direction, his eyes not leaving Remus Lupin’s face, who sat in a chair on the opposite end of the desk.

“I will tell them that you are in the safe custody of our excellent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor until they are assuaged of any doubt to your innocence. But after we have dealt with Mr. Pettigrew, there will be much to discuss from you. Memories to gather concerning the Secret-Keeper swap, beginning the remittance process. Things of that nature. For now, rest here, and I will see you both in a few hours I presume.” Albus Dumbledore gave them a sage but kind smile and a nod in farewell, before stepping out from behind his desk and walking briskly to his office door. It closed with a soft click behind him.

In the silence that followed, Fawkes the phoenix shifted on his perch, and the logs in the fireplace crackled.

Remus Lupin cleared his throat, “Sirius—” he swallowed, “I…”

Sirius’ voice was harsher, still a growl, “No, Remus,” his face contorted slightly in a grimace of pain, “I need to tell you…I’ve thought so long about telling you—I’m so sorry. I… thought you were the spy… it was you. I doubted you.”

Remus’ fists were clenched in his lap—the scars on his knuckles clearly visible.

Sirius was staring at him with unblinking eyes overlarge in his skeletal starved face, “I thought…sometimes…that being in…Azkaban…having you think that I betrayed them…was what I deserved. For doubting you.”

Remus’ breath hitched in his throat, “Sirius—you never deserved…I believed the story, I believed it was you and you had killed Peter. I should have known, I should have fought for your innocence, but I believed it—”

“You had reason, you thought I was the Secret-Keeper. I had no reason…no reason to doubt you—”

There were tears running down Sirius’ grimy face, leaving clear tracks. His claw-like hands were twitching, interlocking his fingers and back again in a gesture Remus had never seen Sirius do before. His bones cracked, but despite his aches, Remus crossed the space between them with werewolf agility, crouching before Sirius’ chair, two hands with deft fingers cupping Sirius’ face—the cheekbones and jawbones so pronounced, Remus had to consciously remind himself to be gentle.

“Sirius,” Remus Lupin whispered, looking up at the other man’s face, rubbing his thumbs under Sirius’ still-wide eyes to stop the flow of tears. “I missed you so much,” Remus told him.

Sirius’ face crumpled and he fell upon Remus, his bone-thin arms wrapping around Remus’ shoulders, his head falling on the crook of his neck. Remus did the same—holding Sirius too him as if he were about to collapse. He could feel Sirius’ ribs, smell the Forbidden Forest on his tattered prisoner’s rags and in his tangled black locks.

“I never stopped loving you,” Remus told him.

It cost him nothing to admit this. There was no anger, no sense of betrayal, maybe if the Remus of before Halloween night of 1981 had found out Sirius thought he was the spy, there would have been fury and heartbreak. But then there had been October 31, 1981, and all of Remus’ life had been one of listless pain…oh, so much pain. He had lost so much of himself, for so long, and resigned himself to the fact that it would always be so—that he would always have to exist without so much of his soul.

But he didn’t have to; not anymore.

Sirius sighed and pressed his cheek tighter into Remus’ neck, “I love you,” he croaked, “Please…forgive me.”

Remus pulled back a little so he could look closely into Sirius’ face, “Forgiven.”

Eventually, their worn old-before-their-time bodies began to shake with exhaustion, and Remus pulled Sirius off the hard-wooden chair and led them both toward the fireplace. With a shaking hand, he waved his wand and transfigured one of the chairs into a small but plush loveseat—it was all he could manage, though he would have liked to cast a warming charm still. They sat side by side, knobby knees knocking together under Siris’ rags and Remus’ tattered robes, their temples pressed against each other, staring at how the firelight reflected in the others eyes. Remus took Sirius’ clawed fingers into his own—scarred but deft—and began to massage Sirius’ knuckles, his palm, his wrists. Sirius sighed, his eyes drooping every few moments before he popped them open wide again.

“You should sleep,” Remus whispered, “It’s alright.” Sirius shook his head but his body betrayed him. He slumped further against Remus, and within seconds he was deeply asleep. Remus massaged his hands a while longer, until finally they relaxed in Sirius’ lap, fingers loose and long once more. He reached his long arms around Sirius’ shoulders and pulled him into his chest. And then, Remus Lupin faded off into sleep.

“M—Remus?” Remus opened his eyes quickly, a sense of urgency overwhelming him briefly before he recognized Sirius’ face, looking at him. Remus glanced around: Albus Dumbledore stood with his arms clasped carefully into a triangle by the fireplace, beside him stood Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, shifting awkwardly, glancing uncertainly at them both.

Albus Dumbledore spoke gently, “There is much to discuss. I am afraid the sooner, all the better.”

Sirius nodded and moved away from Remus, using the side of the conjured loveseat to bring himself to standing. Remus followed suit, his legs shaking slightly.

“Remus—” Dumbledore began but Remus shook his head. “Please, Headmaster, I’m alright.” Cornelius Fudge’s brows rose in confusion, but he said nothing.

Sirius and Remus stood quietly as Dumbledore returned the loveseat into a chair once more, and guided it in the air back toward his desk, conjuring another so the Minister, Sirius, and Remus could all sit. A steaming pot of tea appeared on the Headmaster’s desk.

“Sugar? Lemon? Milk?” Dumbledore asked as they all sat.

“Milk and sugar,” Cornelius Fudge replied as Dumbledore handed him a tea cup and a saucer of sugar cubes and milk. Dumbledore handed a cup to Sirius next, who just stared at him. When the Headmaster gave Remus his tea, Remus took the offered cup and saucer and prepared both he and Sirius’ tea. Sirius liked it with a dash of milk, Remus remembered.

The night’s events were explained once more—as well as Sirius’ illegal status as an Animagus and Remus’ condition.

At the first mention of his lycanthropy the Minister’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “It’s a Full Moon tonight!” He blubbered in alarm.

Sirius growled low in his throat but Dumbledore merely smiled serenely, “Indeed it is, Cornelius. But as we are telling you, Mr. Lupin has been provided the Wolfsbane Potion throughout this year. In fact,” Dumbledore glanced to the window, where weak rays of sunlight were streaming into the office, “Professor Snape will be up and about now, and I have informed him of his duty to brew the last batch in preparation for tonight.”

The conversation eventually returned to Peter—specifically, he and Sirius’ respective trials. The legal procedure would make Sirius’ trial first, and Peter’s second so that Sirius could provide witness testimony. The Minister of Magic announced that Sirius’ trial would begin almost immediately in order to provide proper justice (he did not mention his other obvious motivation—rushing to escape any potential political backlash from the manhunt for an innocent man).

“Until he is declared innocent by the jury, Mr. Black must remain under watch,” Cornelius Fudge emphasized, with a slightly awkward and fearful glance at Sirius.

“Would Hogwarts suffice?” Dumbledore asked pleasantly.

Cornelius grunted, nodding, “So long as he never leaves the premises, except for the trial of course.”

“Well, the term ends in three days, but I and I few other faculty and staff members remain here during the summer,” Dumbledore told Fudge, “Until Sirius is declared innocent, he will be under our watch.”

Dumbledore then collected memories from both Sirius and Remus to record the swapping of the Secret-Keepers, the confrontation in the street when Peter escaped and framed Sirius, and the events of the previous night.

Satisfied, the Minister of Magic stood briskly, “Well, this has all been…illuminating. I expect to see Mr. Black at the Ministry for he and Pettigrew’s respective trials. Dumbledore—always a unique pleasure.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled, “The same, Cornelius.”

The Minister shook Sirius’ hand, but noticeably did not shake Remus’. He had not even glanced in Remus’ direction since finding out about his condition. With a parting nod, the Minister of Magic left the room.

Dumbledore was looking at the two men with polite thoughtfulness, “I personally had to ban the press from entering the grounds when the Minister arrived,” he said, looking to Sirius, “As long as you are at Hogwarts, you will be protected from their curiosity. Unfortunately, once the trial is over, I cannot offer such protection. I trust you have a safe place to go afterwards?”

“Yes, he does,” Remus answered, quietly but firmly, setting down his long-ago empty tea cup, “We’ll both be returning to my cottage in Wales. I’ll set up new wards, of course.”

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling, “And will I be seeing you next term, Professor Lupin?”

Remus’ mouth opened in poorly disguised shock, “Headmaster…” he exhaled and collected himself, bowing his head slightly, “I owe you an apology. I am sorry I betrayed your trust, your generosity, as a student. I should have told you Sirius was an Animagus—”

Dumbledore cleared his throat and Remus glanced back up at him, “If you had informed me, Remus, perhaps an innocent man would have been returned to Azkaban. I feel the theme of all that has transpired between the three of us present is forgiveness. Hogwarts will always welcome you. And I will always trust you.”

Remus’ throat felt thick, he nodded his head and gathered himself before speaking, “Thank you, Headmaster. I cannot say how much it means to me, and I have enjoyed teaching tremendously. But Voldemort is out there, and Peter mentioned that he is not the only Death Eater to have escaped justice and begun searching for his Master. I believe my place will be best served outside of Hogwarts, in the Order, when the time comes for us to re-convene.”

Beside him, Sirius fidgeted and Remus reached a hand across the space to rest on his knee lightly.

Dumbledore nodded gravelly, “Indeed. I fear that such a time may soon come. I trust I may count on both of your services when it does?”

“Anything for Harry,” Sirius growled in reply and Remus nodded in agreement.

Dumbledore gave them each a nod in acknowledgement, “Thank you both. On that note, I think it is best, Sirius, if we give Harry a bit of space with his friends for the next three days before the end of term. The rest of the student body is not so well-informed as we are, I am afraid, so you must stay in Professor Lupin’s quarters. But…perhaps Padfoot may make an a few appearances, and certainly wish the boy farewell. I have no doubt once the trial is over there will be plenty of time for you to see after the boy.”

Remus watched Sirius’ face—he went from steely-eyed indignation, to appeasement, and then to joy in a matter of seconds.

“You mean…I can—he can—we can—” Sirius glanced from Dumbledore to Remus, stammering over his words, his whole face lighting up in a way that made him look young and heart-fillingly familiar to Remus.

“Yes,” Dumbledore smiled, “The boy is protected at his Aunt and Uncle’s by Lily’s blood sacrifice. Lily naming you as Godfather is a sacred bond, and when the oath was made, as I’m sure you remember, you, James, and Lily all shook with slit palms. Therefore, some of her sacrifice is in your veins, as well as the Godfather bond. I am quite certain wherever you call home, and therefore wherever Harry calls home, will be sufficiently protected.”

Sirius reached and grasped for Remus’ hand, and Remus gripped it back.

Dumbledore stood, “Now, I believe rest—and a potion for Professor Lupin—are in order. I must ask that this evening, the wolf and the dog stay within Professor Lupin’s quarters.”

Remus nodded soberly but Sirius hadn’t stopped smiling and was reflexively squeezing Remus’ hand. Remus gave their hands a bit of a tug and pulled them both to standing, “Of course, Headmaster.”

“We will be in touch,” Albus Dumbledore said, crossing his desk and walking the two men toward the door, giving them a quick appraising look.

Remus Lupin, a full head taller than Sirius and leaner, stood with his back straight despite the clear signs of the coming Full Moon, evident in his pale face and creaking bones. It had been many years since Albus Dumbledore had seen Remus when he had conscripted him for the DADA job, and at the meeting the Headmaster had been saddened to see the toll the transformations had taken on Remus’ body. He was only thirty-four years old, but his face was prematurely lined, and his brown hair streaked with grey—not to mentioned the scars which were visible on his face...the one that slashed the underside of his jaw on the right side of his face… Dumbledore would never see the scars across Remus’ arms, torso, and legs, but he knew they were there. Perhaps, Dumbledore wondered now, with Padfoot’s return, the transformations would get easier.

Sirius Black, shorter than Remus but with broader shoulders and aristocratic features—a sharp nose, cheekbones, and jaw which were all the starker with his malnutrition—looked a ravaged shadow of his former self. His once-glossy black hair was a bird’s nest, and his eyes were sunken deep within their sockets. But he was smiling, nearly vibrating with energy, and his hand gripped Remus’ strongly. Dumbledore believed wholeheartedly that if anyone could make a full recovery from imprisonment in Azkaban, it would be Sirius Black.