Friday 25 November 1988.
Tybalt was cold.
He'd never felt a bone-deep chill quite like the one he felt now. This Siberia place was not somewhere he wanted to spend much time. But he was tasked with finding his master's Wolf, and that was what he was going to do.
He'd been at it now for months. Every time he felt he was getting close the trail would jump away again. At first, it had zigzagged all over France. Spending a lot of time centred around the areas where the muggles made their wine. It appeared that Wolf had used them for work while on his travels and this added a whole new level of difficulty to his search.
While Pops was a master of disguise in his elder years, able to take on different forms using his magic, Tybalt was still far too young to master such techniques. And a house-elf questioning muggles without a disguise was a tricky proposition. He'd had to resort to subterfuge and misdirection. Talents he had learned over many years of reading under the guidance of Mistress Lily and perfected while caring for Master Harry.
Back when the young master was still too young to do much, and Mipsy was his main minder, Tybalt would spend hours in the library learning to read at Lily's insistence. His favourite stories were the mysteries and spy thrillers she had brought into the library years before.
And the talents of the detectives and spies in those novels were now being put to good use.
He felt a little bad for kidnapping people for a night and holding them in a dark interrogation room, usually an unoccupied room in their own home that he used magic to distort, with a bright light shining in their faces. Disguising his voice as he asked his questions.
Unknown to him or the Potters, this would be responsible for a huge surge in reports of alien abduction reports in those areas for months. But he was a good elf. His master had given him a job to do. A big job he had called it as the wee elf left on his journey, and Tybalt would not fail in his quest.
This vineyard tour had continued into Italy and after several weeks onto Greece. It was here that Tybalt had the most difficulty finding the next leg of the trail. Wolf seemed to hop back and forth around the many islands in this area for some time before he moved on again. Sometimes using the many forms of muggle transport between them and at others seeming to simply apparate from one to the next. Following that path had taken almost a full half of the time Tybalt had spent on this journey.
The many magical sites that he went through on his way north allowed for quicker passage as he tracked up through Bulgaria and Romania. Had it not been for the run-ins with a few hungry vampires in this area, elves being a particular delicacy to blood drinkers, he likely wouldn't have taken more than a couple of days to track him northward.
The trail appeared to be following a mostly straight line north but had suddenly shot a huge distance to the north-east at the border of Belarus. The residue of several portkeys made this one leg rather difficult to keep up with. Which is what led to Tybalt standing here, shivering despite his many warming charms and thick clothing he had acquired nearby. On the shore of a near-frozen sea, staring up over the breaking waves.
Starokadomsky Island lay before him now, cold and desolate. But it was still early morning, and the moon was still glaring down over the frozen hellscape. He could clearly hear the howls of the island's inhabitants as they ran over its bare flanks.
This particular pack seemed to have found a safe place to turn. The island held no homes, no people of any sort that he could see. Not even any trees grew there. Only ice and dirt. Though it meant others were safe, the wolves themselves would suffer greatly. With nothing else to turn their claws and teeth to, they would attack each other. It would be a very long night for them.
And so, Tybalt waited.
Waited for the moon to set and the wolves to rest so that he could question them. Even from here, he could sense he was too late. Wolf was not among those running amok on the island. But he had been with them very recently.
Perhaps they could lead to him finally catching him up, as he would not be very comfortable travelling over the next few days.
It would be nearly ten in the morning before the small boat they had left anchored a few hundred metres offshore slowly rowed past the more southern Maly Taymyr Island on which Tybalt had spent the morning, on its way to the mainland with its ten passengers. There the group had left a set of portkeys to take them off to their next destinations.
Tybalt stood, watching like the lone man keeping his lighthouse for several moments. Before he popped over to the boat, balancing on its tip and surprising the occupants severely.
His questioning of the werewolves did not take very long. They were still weary from their night of pain and only wanted to be free of the questioning elf so that they could find a hot meal and a comfortable bed. So, Tybalt soon had what he wanted. Switzerland.
After a quick restock for supplies at the Manor, a detour that took the elf no time at all due to its unique magical location, he was on his way.
Wolf had told the pack exactly where he was headed, and why he was breaking off from them after almost nine months of running with them. His guilt had been growing at the contentment he'd felt with them. They had tried to convince him to stay, but he had still left them. And only days earlier.
His destination now was a glacier, Blau Gletscherli, to the north of a tall mountain. With his extensive reading, Tybalt understood the reference that Wolf was making with his choice of destination. While the glacier and the mountain were not that unusual, the nearby village to the south had a very particular name for anyone in the magical world.
Grindelwald.
And it was here, in the cracks of the glacier a little north of the village, that Tybalt finally caught up with his mark.
The magic he felt in the crag was the same he had been following now for months. And it also was quite an impressive transfiguration. Both ends of the thin gap in the ice had been filled with slanted flat plates of six-inch-thick iron. The tips were rounded to prevent purchase and silver mesh laid over top discouraged repeated attempts at escape.
At their base, a small fire still burned on charmed wood to prevent it from going out and the passed-out man by its side looked as ragged as any Tybalt had ever met.
His clothes were shredded and spread across the open ground, some even smouldering beside the fire. But the most common item about the campsite was empty bottles. Mostly of terribly strong liquors. The smell was horrendous and nearly knocked out the poor elf. But at long last, he had the chance to complete his mission.
He quickly prepared his message, carving it deep into the ice walls on both sides of the crevice. However, now he'd caught up to his mark, he wasn't about to leave him alone. And an idle house-elf is never a good thing. So, he set himself to cleaning the camp, repairing the clothing as best he could and clearing away the bottles.
And the smell.
ϟ
Remus shook himself awake and immediately regretted his decision. The pounding of his head was only worsened by the jerky motion and the bright white walls of ice under the evening sun assaulted his eyes if he opened them even a little.
Last night had been the worst full moon in years. Locking himself in such a small space after running free with a pack for several months had resulted in the wolf within turning on him. He could feel the deep scratches and angry bites slowly healing all over his body. The wolf was angry at him and had not shied away from expressing that displeasure.
But such was what he deserved. Family, belonging, home. These were things for people who were whole. Who hadn't allowed themselves to be sent away when their true family had needed them the most. When he had failed them. This was his penance, as best he could perform it before death, at last, took him and he got to suffer anew in the hell his cursed soul was damned to.
Stretching added a new dimension to the pain running through him as the healing damage was stressed and, in some cases, broken open anew. The odd feeling of the ice at his naked back and the roaring heat of the fire on his side caused even more stress to his already tasked nervous system. Pulling a deep breath through his nose helped to clear his clouded senses a bit, but as he took his second breath, he froze.
There was a new scent in his lair, one that had not been there the night before.
Opening his eyes, he again regretted it as the sunlight glinted off the links of the silver mesh he had covered his hovel with. And it only magnified brighter as it reflected off the sheer walls of the glacier and burned at his retinas.
But he pushed through the pain, turning his head slowly to the side his senses were telling him the scent was located. And now he was certain he was still dreaming.
For sitting by his fire, on an intact chair was a house-elf dressed in a deep blue shirt dotted with pockets, drinking a steaming mug of something, while reading a book.
Remus blinked several times as he tried to will his imagination to remove the odd display, but no matter the method, it remained resolutely in place. It took him several minutes before he realised the elf wasn't reading but was instead watching him silently from over the top of the book.
"Good evening," the elf said, the sound echoing about the small space and attacking Remus's sensitive ears.
"If you say so." He replied, rolling onto his side to find his clothing folded and perched on a second chair with his name on the back. Clearly, whoever this elf belonged to, they knew who Remus was. "Can I help you?"
The elf smiled as he placed a bookmark in the novel, To Kill a Mockingbird Remus noted, and set it beside himself.
"I've been tasked to find you. And convey a message."
The elf waved a lazy hand to either side as Remus stood and again stretched his haggard body. His feet rebelled at the cold they were now being subjected to, as his back and side were now so numb, they hadn't cared about the cold. He slipped into the prepared clothing, which felt thicker and warmer than the day before.
"And what would that message be?"
The elf smiled again and waved his hands to the sides, not taking his eyes from Remus. Confused, this time Remus followed the wave to the side and finally he noticed something was carved deep into the thick ice walls on either side of him. He had ignored it at first, believing it was simply the result of the wolf trying to climb its way free. Now he looked closer and saw the text carved into its surface and highlighted by the shadows cast by the sun and fire.
Moony needs to pull his head out of his arse and get back to England. Prongs wants a word with him about Padfoot and the fawn.
Remus froze again.
While his Marauder name was hardly a secret, given how often they'd used them during very public pranks, there were not many individuals who knew all four identities. The phrasing of this message was nearly identical to several his old friend had used when he would mope over his condition in their school years.
Adding in the term fawn, too. While Moony's condition was relatively known, very few knew the lengths his friends had gone to to help him manage that condition. Nor their forms. Or that one of them was a deer. The one of them who had a child of their own.
This was a message from James Potter.
But that was impossible. His friend was long dead, betrayed by Padfoot all those years ago. The whole family had died that night. Lily and the fawn included.
Could it just be a delay in the message that had resulted in this odd moment? Surely that must be the case. James had sought him out before his death and his stupid mission for Dumbledore had meant he'd missed the message until it was far too late.
"You're a little late passing on the message." Remus barked, allowing his frustration to colour his voice. "They're already dead. Not much I can do about that now, elf."
"My name is Tybalt, Mister Wolf. Please use it." The elf's expression took on a darker note for a moment. "And I am not late unless my master says so."
"I'm sorry, Tybalt. But I don't know what you expect of me. If your master is James Potter, this message can't help him now." He turned to face the iron wall and felt himself fall into memories of happier times.
"And why would you think that?"
"Because I failed them and they're dead!" Remus roared, rounding on the elf, who didn't even blink at the sudden anger. "I failed to protect my pack, my friends, and now they're all dead. James, Lily. Harry." He sank into the chair and sobbed into his hands as he broke down. He'd managed to suppress this all for so long. "Even Peter. And I can't even avenge their deaths because Black is already locked away. All I can do is remember."
"So, you didn't know?" Tybalt asked, an inquisitive look on his features.
"Didn't know what? That Black would sell us out? Of course not. I'd have killed him before he had a chance. The wolf would have ripped his heart from his chest and eaten it before his dying eyes."
Tybalt smiled widely at the man. Why would he enjoy that?
"Your information seems to be dated. The message also comes with an offer. I was to talk to you to find out if it was safe to make that offer."
Remus was beyond confused now. The pain he had been hiding in his heart for years was running rampant through his body. The agony of that Halloween had haunted him all this time and now this damned elf was churning everything he'd tried to lay behind him back up. Whoever had sent the blasted creature was playing with fire if they thought they could bring all this up and he'd help them with much of anything.
"What offer?"
Tybalt smiled again and fished something from his pocket and threw it at Remus. Even in his intoxicated and pained state, his reflexes were sharp enough to swipe it from the air. He hadn't expected to have the feeling of a portkey triggering to rip him from his camp and send him swirling into a heap on the floor of a tiled room.
The pain in his body and brain kept him from moving for several minutes. A pop nearby signalled the elf following him. The small bag of knickknacks and clothing he had concealed on the other side of the iron plate was dropped before him and the sound of running water filled his ears.
"Master requested you take a bath and change first. Once you are presentable, call for me. I shall take you to him."
Remus pulled his hand free from under his crumpled form and looked at the item he had caught. It was a small stuffed animal. A wolf. The very same one he had bought for Harry on his first birthday, that matched the dog, rat and stag the others had given him.
ϟ
Harry honestly loved the Grangers.
As much as he loved his parents, there were just some things they couldn't do. Giving him a hug good night. Tucking him into bed and pressing a kiss to his forehead. And both the Granger parents would treat him to these things on a regular basis.
While he could understand his parents cared for him on an intellectual level, the Grangers could prove it in a physical sense and this had resulted in him latching onto them as much as he had to their daughter.
When they had opened the wall between his spare room and Hermione's bedroom so that they could share the room, he had been unable to contain the happy tears. It had taken almost half an hour for his friend to console him enough to settle in for the night.
He was truly amazed at how understanding the Grangers had been about his occasional need to stay over the night with little warning. Tonight, he didn't even know why he had been sent to stay. Just that Tybalt had returned from some extremely long trip he wasn't supposed to ask about and it required him to stay at Hermione's.
Not that he ever minded. There were few places in this world where he felt happier or safer than 53 Ringwood Close.
In the months since he had first brought Hermione home to the Manor, his sleepovers had increased a lot. He was now there almost twice a month and was fast coming to think of Richard and Natalie as his second parents.
When he had accidentally called Natalie 'mum' tonight as she had tucked him in, she had started, and Harry was worried at what her response would be. After a few short seconds though she had kissed his forehead and wished him a good night before doing the same to Hermione and leaving the room.
Harry's heart had pounded for ages after that and it wasn't until Hermione slipped in next to him and wrapped him in a hug that he settled.
"They love you, you know. She already thinks of you as a son." Hermione whispered into his ear. "I don't mind in the slightest. There is no one I'd rather share my family with than you."
Harry nodded and snuggled tighter against Hermione, finally letting the worry clenching at his heart go and relaxing into her arms. And it didn't take him long after that to drift off to sleep.
ϟ
Remus had never set foot in such a brilliant Manor before in his life. Thankful for their ignorance of his condition, his many stays with Sirius's family in their youth had shown him the opulence of the darker purebloods, but this was a cut above even that.
The building managed to be light and open despite all the rich furniture and fancy paintings decorating the walls. The place had a homely feeling to it and many of the people in the pictures along the wall gave him soft greeting smiles as he passed.
It had been several hours since the elf had dropped him in a bathroom that put even the Prefect's one at Hogwarts to shame. Making the most of it, he had scrubbed himself clean and now felt better than he had in years. But curiosity was a tough thing to avoid, and instead of calling for Tybalt as he was instructed to do, he had set off into the house to find some clue as to where he was.
Looking out the many windows was no help. The gardens that stretched out from the Manor showed no obvious clues and the clear starry night just meant there were no muggle settlements full of electric lights nearby. He could have been anywhere in the world with what he saw outside. So, he was left to use internal clues to figure it out.
The architecture looked right for a rich pureblooded family from England, but it was not one he had ever visited before. Not that many of the British purebloods would welcome a werewolf knowingly into their home for anything other than sport.
He'd kept track of news from the island of his birth and knew that some horrid woman by the name of Umbridge had helped pass some appalling laws regarding his kind while he'd been away. He was unlikely to find much in the way of employment in that country anymore.
But these were thoughts for another time. He realised he could hear voices in the room just up ahead, and he went into Marauder mode in order to sneak close enough to hear.
"He finished in the bath ages ago, mistress. He is currently wandering the halls."
"And you just let him? He's a werewolf!"
"Be quiet, Bob. Just because you were a bigot doesn't mean anyone else here has a problem with his condition. One that is not his fault in the slightest." A familiar voice echoed down the hall. A voice he'd not heard in many years but was still unable to place. "Do you plan to invite him to join us anytime soon, Tybalt?"
"Yes, master."
Remus froze as the elf stepped out into the hall and looked directly at him. There was no accusation in its eyes and he now realised they had known exactly where he had been as he wandered the halls. A cheeky grin spread across his face as he straightened up and nodded to the elf who now directed him into the room.
"Yes, well. Too right." Remus said as he straightened his clothes and walked into the room, looking about to see the people who had been talking with the elf.
He found no one. The room was empty but for three chairs and a large painting that took up the entire left-hand wall of the room. The chairs were angled toward the painting and each had a small table to its right with a platter topped with glasses.
"Over here, Remus. Long-time, no-see." The familiar voice called.
Remus spun to the painting and took in those within. It was a massive family portrait filled with over a hundred faces staring at him. Hair and eye colours ran the gamut and while many had similar noses, or chins, there were a lot of different ones as well. It took him a moment to locate the waving figure who had called his name and he gasped aloud as he finally recognised the face of Charlus Potter.
"Perhaps a seat?" Charlus stated, angling a hand at one of the chairs.
Remus fell into the seat heavily and continued to stare at the father of his long-dead friend. The long-dead himself father of said friend. This was Potter Manor. He had not ever visited the Manor before, not trusting himself in his youth to be around the family of his closest friends. While he had no worry for the Blacks after the stories Sirius had shared in their schooling, James and his family meant a great deal more to the werewolf.
"You look a bit shocked. A drink perhaps?"
"Tea, please," Remus said as Tybalt stepped up beside him and he attempted to resettle his disjointed thoughts. "You sent the message?"
Charlus smiled at him. "No dear boy. While I knew about your little troupe, I wasn't the one reaching out to you. Just the one chosen to be your initial greeter."
"I sent the message."
Remus's head wrenched around, and he knew he'd done some small amount of damage, but his brain ignored it. That was a voice he would never forget. His eyes locked on the face of his oldest friend.
"James…"
"Hiya Moony. How's the liver?"
Several different responses sounded from the painting at the greeting, from laughter to scolding. Remus was too shocked to speak. When had James found the time to have a portrait done? He looked the same as the last day he'd seen him, even wearing the same shirt and robe.
"How?"
"Well, you see, Moony. There are a group of people in this world, let's call them artists. And they use brushes and paints to record…"
An almighty smack put an end to James's comments as his head rocked forward and the figure hidden behind him finally came into view. Her red hair and vibrant green eyes were filled with amusement as her hand dropped once more and she locked eyes with Remus.
"Hello, old friend." Lily cooed.
"How?" Remus echoed.
"Magic," Lily replied, echoing James's joke with a wide grin on her face. "Day you left we had it done. Took the whole damned day. But Charlus here demanded it. And we're very glad he did."
Her eyes flicked to her father-in-law and he nodded in response.
"Is Harry in there too?"
"Not right now."
"Right, too late. Little tyke'd be sleeping." Remus said to himself, missing the looks between those in the painting.
"We didn't ask you here to reminisce, Remus." Lily continued. "We have a job for you if you're willing."
"A job? After what happened with Black, you'd trust me?"
"If you can show yourself to be trustworthy." James cut in. "We learnt our lesson about blind trust a long time ago now."
An angry look covered his features as he spoke, and Remus felt he knew the cause. They had all trusted Sirius in their youth and had all been burned by that trust.
"For now, some questions. Why did you never come back, Remus?" Lily asked, "You've been hiding away on the continent for so long it took Tybalt ages to find you. Especially after you ignored our first letter."
"That was you? I figured it was just a delayed message from Gringotts. All it did was reopen old wounds…" He replied, pausing as he felt the melancholy wash over him once more. "What was there to come back to? You were all dead. Sirius had already killed Peter and gotten himself locked away. Even I can't infiltrate Azkaban to take revenge. I chose to spend my time… reflecting I guess you could call it."
"I call it one hell of a bender." James quipped, shuffling further away from his wife in the process. "Lucky your furry little problem helps you heal quicker or you'd have drunk yourself to death by now from everything we've heard."
"Don't think I didn't try. It just felt like giving up like that would be too easy. I deserve to suffer for failing to protect you."
"You're a right idiot you know that, Moony? Voldemort himself came knocking on our door. What were you gonna do? Cock a leg on him?"
"It wasn't a full moon. I could have helped. I should have stopped Black."
"And you can give that rubbish a rest too." Remus looked at his friend in confusion. "Sirius Black is, was and ever has been our friend. He would sooner shack up with Fenrir Greyback and try for a baby than betray any one of us."
"But he was your secret keeper? You told me yourself! I watched the ritual!"
"And he was, for about a week, before we came up with the plan to change it out for someone less likely," Lily added. "Peter Pettigrew was our Secret Keeper. We just continued to tell everyone it was Sirius, so they'd go looking for him and never find Peter."
"Turns out that the animagus transformation showed not just his inner animal but his true nature. "James grumbled. "Bastard sold us out to Voldemort the first chance he got."
Remus was stunned into silence, and the others just sat and allowed him to process. If Black was innocent, he'd been hating his loyal friend for years, doing nothing to help him gain his rightful freedom as he instead wallowed in his own self-pity. Pettigrew had betrayed them.
Now that he was confronted with the possibility, it screamed itself as the truth. Sirius would have never betrayed the Potters. He would have fought and struggled to the bitter end, but he would never have given them up.
But Peter? That Remus could actually believe. He was their friend too, but the rat had always felt a little more disconnected from them. While they cherished his friendship and included him in everything they did, Remus often wondered if the smallest of them felt the same way. With the right motivation, something Voldemort was very good at dishing out, he could see Peter giving up the information.
Looking back up at the painting, his eyes took on a resolved sheen. "Please, tell me everything…"
ϟ
Harry felt the churning of the waves as they rocked the boat as he hung from the rigging. A pirate's life was for him as the sea air kissed his face and filled the sails. The sun beat down from above as the frothing waves churned about his craft and he looked ahead to the tropical island fast approaching.
It was an odd feeling, but he loved it, nonetheless. Looking down at the ocean he was surprised to see it looking so flat. He could feel the churning movement that should have been caused by a moody sea. If not waves, where was the motion coming from?
Feeling arms tighten about him dragged Harry from his dream as he felt the blankets slipping off his body. His left hand was tangled in Hermione's bushy mane of hair, and her own arms were wrapped almost uncomfortably tight around his waist. Looking beyond her sleeping form he could see the floor.
It was entirely on his left side and was swaying back and forth as though he were still aboard the ship of his dream. It hadn't been the boat that was moving, but the whole bed.
Looking back at Hermione, he saw her face scrunched up in fear as the world moved once more around their bed. Now the floor was above him, their hair began to hang down from the bed, and the covers had completely fallen to the floor as the bed hovered upside down above the thick carpet.
Harry gasped loudly and tried his hardest to reign in his magic. His dream must have bled through and now he was levitating the bed. And if he didn't flip them back over, they would be squashed when the bed succumbed once more to gravity.
"No… leave him alone…" Hermione mumbled as her arms tightened even further.
Harry was now in pain from how tight her grip had become and even breathing was becoming difficult.
"Hermione… I can't…"
He ran his fingers through her hair to try to calm her and loosen her grip so that he could focus on righting his magic and setting them back down safely.
Suddenly her eyes flew open and spotting his face she yelled. "NO!"
A burst of energy surged from her body, her hair zapping Harry with static electricity as the blast hit the floor and flipped the bed end over end making a cacophonous noise as it landed on Hermione's own thankfully unoccupied bed.
She was panting loudly and sobbing into his shoulder finally releasing her grip from his waist and lifting it up to around his neck. Harry was stunned to silence as he tried to hold them from slipping off the oddly angled bed.
"Why would they do that? I begged them to stop. They were hurting you. They hurt my parents. Oh, Harry." Hermione continued to sob away as he stroked her hair with his free hand while holding tightly to the bedhead with the other.
The lights flicked on and he blinked up to see both Richard and Natalie looking at the room in shock. Harry's bed was lying half on Hermione's and except for the bookshelves, everything seemed to have been knocked out of place and was lying on the floor.
The adults quickly focused on the sobbing girl in Harry's arms and rushed over to settle her down.
ϟ
"And so, that is how we find ourselves here, Moony. Stuck inside with no agent who can leave these walls in our stead." James finished, eyeing his friend now seated before him with his face buried in his hands.
"Innocent? I've thought the worst of him all these years." Remus mumbled into his hands.
"You weren't to know, Remus. Though I had hoped you'd have handled everything better."
Remus glanced up at them, tears in his eyes and covering his face. "I failed you all. How can you stand the sight of me?"
"Oi! Knock it off, Moony. The woe-is-me trip didn't fly when we were kids, I'm not going to let you wallow in it now. You are a loyal friend, you always have been. And now we need your help to make things right. I cannot even step outside this house, much less make it to Gringotts. Pops has tried, but they cannot give him the access required without written authorisation. Something a painting can hardly provide."
"So, why would they listen to me? I've no proof I can provide?"
"Not true." Lily smiled down at him. "We made concessions. Preparations. You'll find yours in a safety deposit box in a muggle bank in central London. It names you specifically, so was of no use to Pops." She added, as one of the elves handed Remus a key. "As many outcomes as we addressed, we never considered none of you being around to help carry them out."
Remus winced at the slight tone at the end. They'd made their displeasure at his sabbatical known quite plainly.
"But first, you need to clean up your mess."
He nodded lazily, and James could clearly see the thoughts whirring through his mind.
"Moony, the past is gone. Worrying and self-flagellation will not change it. Let's focus on fixing the present so we can look to the future."
More nodding accompanied Remus's reply. "I did leave quite the noisy trail, didn't I?"
"Tybalt enjoyed the chase, Master Wolf." The wee elf contributed. "It was fun."
The Potters chuckled and even Remus managed to look less morose at the wee elf's words.
"Be that as it may, if Tybalt could follow it so easily, and so quickly, others could too. And once you start enacting these plans, they will come looking. We need to prevent that as long as possible."
"But you still can't tell me why?" Remus replied, looking up at the painting.
"In due time, Remus. When we do, you will see that there is a very good reason for it," came Lily's soft voice. "Until then you just have to trust us."
Remus nodded at the comment. Clearly considering all that they had shared with him. "Could I see Harry, one time before I go clean things up? Surely he's in there with you?"
"How about we keep that as your first reward for a safe return? My brother." James smiled. More because he knew they couldn't produce Harry right now, he'd be fast asleep at the Grangers, than a lack of any trust. But it was also a bad idea to have Remus running about Europe with the knowledge that Harry survived in his mind.
He could see the indecision on Remus's face, the idea that they may still not trust him fully.
"Remus." James started, drawing the werewolf's lowered gaze. " I trust you with that which is most precious to me. In all the world. But timing is everything. This is more important than anything we've ever asked of you, I promise."
Silence gripped the room as everyone digested the tension among them. James longed to tell Remus the truth. There was nothing that would motivate him more than the knowledge that Harry was alive, but until the mess he'd left on the continent was cleaned it was too dangerous.
"Tybalt will accompany you. He will ignore any orders to return or deviate in any way until the task is complete. That way we can be certain that no one else can use a house-elf to follow it. This will work, Moony. And will be worth all the heartache."
"Master!" Mipsy called loudly as she popped into being between Remus and the painting.
Everyone could see her panting and there was a fear in her eyes Lily had not seen since the Incident years before.
"One moment, Mipsy," James said, looking back over to Remus. "We have a deal?"
"Yes," the werewolf replied, eyeing the newly arrived and clearly frantic elf, "I'll head back for a couple of weeks and settle any outstanding affairs and be back as soon as I can. It shouldn't take more than a month or so to fix."
James and Lily glanced at one another. A month was a long time, but they had already been playing a long game. Rushing now would only cause more problems.
"Good. We'll see you then, Remus." Lily finished, nodding alongside James as Remus stood. "Tybalt will take you where you need to go. And we'll have another surprise for you when you get back."
Remus grinned softly and held out his hand to Tybalt, who took it and they popped away in an instant.
"What is it, Mipsy? You should be watching Harry tonight." James asked briskly after the interruption.
"Mipsy was, master. But something happened…"
"What!?" James yelled, "Get Harry back here now!"
Mipsy frowned deeply but was unable to ignore her master's direct order so she popped away.
"James, we don't know what happened. If he was in danger, surely she'd have brought him along." Charlus scolded as they waited for the elf to return.
A loud pop broke the silence and Harry was looking around in confusion until he spotted the painting and everyone staring at him.
"Now tell us, what happened."
"I was having a weird dream, and my magic manifested. My bed was levitating." Harry told the gathered Potters quickly, clearly uncomfortable under their gaze.
"Excuse me, young master, but that's not true."
"What? What do you mean?" Lily asked frantically, obviously worried about what the muggles would do after being exposed to magic like that.
"Master Harry didn't levitate the bed. I know the young master's magic. I feel it inside me still. This didn't feel like his magic."
"But the only other person in the bed was Hermione." Harry fretted, worried about his friend.
The shock on the Potters' faces as this sank in would have been priceless to Harry in any other situation. Right now, he just wanted to get back and make sure Hermione was ok.
"Harry, we need to speak with her. Bring her here as soon as you can without it being suspicious. Please." Charlus asked, watching his son and daughter-in-law still trying to process what was happening.
"Fine, I'll be back."
And with a pop, he was gone.