Home is where the heart is

Remus Lupin sighed, as he scanned the headlines of the Daily Prophet. Nothing strange or remotely frightening had happened at all, since the end of the Triwizard Tournament. He didn't know what exactly he wanted to see, but it was unsettling that there wasn't even a hint of dark activity abroad.

Putting down the paper, Remus heaved himself out of a rather battered armchair, and started to make some tea. It was well past dawn, and he hadn't slept a wink the whole night. A fortnight ago, Sirius had arrived on his doorstep in the middle of the night - exhausted and pale.

After Sirius had explained the events at the Triwizard Tournament, he had fallen asleep, right there on the couch, snoring his head off. Remus felt it was better to leave him where he was, and immediately sent a letter to Dumbledore, informing him of Sirius' arrival. Two weeks later, Sirius was still there, but instead of crashing on the couch, he slept in the small spare room out the back.

Remus currently rented a small, run-down cottage on the outskirts of a little town in Southern Ireland. It wasn't exactly a mansion, but once Remus had repaired the windows and doors, and repainted the inside, it was cozy enough. Plus it was well away from any nosy visitors, so when he transformed at the full moon, there wasn't any danger of him biting anyone.

Not to mention the fact that he was now hiding an escaped convict.

Sipping his tea, Remus settled back into his armchair in front of the small fireplace, and reflected on the situation that threatened everybody.

Lord Voldemort was back, and fully recovered from his time as a bodiless spirit.

Sirius was a wrongly accused escapee on the run from the Ministry and the Dementors.

The Minister of Magic was stubbornly refusing to believe the return of the Dark Lord.

Wormtail and the Death Eaters were back in their master's service.

And Harry.......Harry was a teenage boy burdened with things that no person should endure.

Remus himself had been amazed at the bravery and determination that Harry had displayed, when he had been teaching at Hogwarts. Even though the Dementors affected him worse than anyone else, Harry kept on insisting that he face them, and ended up mastering the Patronus Charm. He was, indeed, just like James.

James......the best kind of friend a person could have. Remus felt himself slipping back into a memory of their third year.

************************************************************************************ Remus POV - 3rd Year

"Remind me why we're actually doing this again?"

"Because we want to pass our 3rd year, dimwit."

"I'm not a dimwit, dimwit!"

"Are too!"

"Are not!"

It was a normal evening in Gryffindor Tower, and Sirius was busy complaining to James about a particularly nasty Potions essay. Of course, Sirius couldn't help but complain about any type of homework set. I was so used to these kind of conversations that I ended up just tuning them out.

"Um, could you two actually try and concentrate for a moment?" I asked them patiently. In return, they both glared at me. "Okay........I guess not."

Sirius threw down his quill in frustration. "Why on earth would we need to know how to brew a toenail growing potion?!" he asked no one in particular. "I mean, I could be doing something USEFUL - like planting dungbombs all over the prefects bathroom!" At this, his mischievous eyes lit up.

James grinned at me. "Excellent idea. Shall we, er, skip our homework until later?" I frowned at him. "In case you lot are forgetting, we have a test on this tomorrow! Unlike you, I can't just glance at a page and memorise it perfectly.....I don't have the, uh, natural ability to pass tests and exams without so much as opening a book."

Sirius pretended to blush. "Aww, stop it Remus, you're embarrassing us. Besides, we can cram tomorrow morning at breakfast! C'mon Remmy-" He looked at me pleadingly. "You know you want to......"

I was weakening - we hadn't pulled a trick in a few days, and hey - any excuse for letting off dungbombs, right? James was looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "Well? You up for some pranking?" he asked wickedly.

Here we go again. I rolled up my Potions essay and gave them a mock-frown. "I suppose I have to come-" At this Sirius gave James a high five "-to make sure you two don't do anything too stupid.... like getting caught......" I trailed off, enjoying the sheepish expression on Sirius' face. "Hey! That wasn't my fault! How was I supposed to see that suit of armor in the dark?" he protested. "I was busy concentrating on booby-trapping the staff room!" James elbowed him in the side.

"Maybe by using your eyes, Sirius? I'm still finding it hard to believe that you could have missed a great big pile of metal right in your face......they aren't exactly small......and you got us caught by Pringle, remember?"

"- not to mention waking up half the castle with all the racket you made," came a voice from the other side of the common room. Lily Evans, a fellow Gryffindor 3rd year, was frowning at us from one of the comfy armchairs in front of the fire. She was alone, which was strange, as her friends - the other 3rd year girls - usually surrounded her.

"Well, thanks for the input, Evans. We'll remember your wise comments in the future," snorted James, scowling at her. He couldn't stand the girl in particular - especially ever since Lily had lost her temper over a 'harmless' prank that James had played on her - he 'borrowed' her private poems that she wrote in her spare time and posted them on every message board in the school. Lily had, in return, stolen his extremely precious fluffy bunny that he claimed to be 'a ragged old thing that he kept for good luck' and had sent him into a fit of worrying over it for days.

But back to the present............

Lily then rolled her eyes. "Somehow, I doubt it. Oh, by the way, Sirius? Your robes are a lovely shade of pink. I never knew you had such a strong feminine side......" And with that, Lily turned away, snickering.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" was the reaction from Sirius. He looked down at himself in absolute horror. It seemed that Lily had charmed his robes while we were talking and had our backs turned - she was the best Charms student in our year, and was constantly at war with us. It was no secret that she and her best friend completely loathed our little group.

James was furiously trying to muffle his giggles behind a fist, but in the end gave way to hysterical laughter. I joined in - Sirius looked ridiculous in shimmery hot pink. "Not your colour, is it?" I choked through my giggles.

Getting himself under some control, James grinned at us, his eyes glinting. "Leave this to me."

He turned around and muttered a hex in Lily's direction. Almost immediately, Lily screamed at the top at her voice. James had somehow managed to curse her - bald.

"POTTEEEEEERRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" she shrieked, jumping out of her chair. "James, I advise you run...." I said, observing the murderous expression on Lily's face, and the snapping fury in her bright green eyes. James didn't need telling twice. He scrambled out of his own chair and ran for dear life towards the staircase to the boy's dormitories.

"I'M GONNA KKKKKIIIIIIIIILLLLL YYYYYYYOOOOOOOUUUUU!!!!!!!" roared Lily, sprinting after him.

Sirius and I stared after them, before cracking up completely. We were both shaking and crying with laughter. It took a few minutes for us to get ourselves back under control, before Sirius turned to me mournfully. He was attracting some weird looks off the older students, who were eyeing us curiously.

"What'll I do about my robes?"

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Remus was still chuckling at the memory, when the small grandfather clock he had inherited from his father started to chime. It was ten o'clock. Time to wake Sirius up.

He tiptoed over to the door and quietly pushed it open, peeking inside. Sprawled out on his bed, drooling, was the snoring figure of Sirius Black. His arms and legs were flayed out everywhere, and he was mumbling in his sleep, looking anything like a young boy.

Not exactly a terror-inspiring sight.

Resisting the urge to giggle, which would have been quite unmanly, Remus crept over to the bedside and poked Sirius in the side.

He didn't move.

Remus decided to be less subtle. He grabbed Sirius' shoulder and shook him hard. Sirius muttered under his breath something about dancing monkeys, and moaned, before squinting up at Remus through bleary and glazed-over eyes.

"S'matter?" He said sleepily, hair sticking up everywhere. "Time to get up, Sirius!" Remus said, in an over-cheery voice, which he knew would irritate Sirius at this hour of morning. It was positively early, in Sirius' standards.

Sirius was not amused.

"No bloody way," he said, and buried his face in the mound of pillows that he had been resting on. Remus rolled his eyes. Getting Sirius out of bed on a weekend morning had been bad enough at Hogwarts. He obviously hadn't improved his habits since then.

"Sirius, get UP! You're a grown man, not a hormone-ridden, sleep-deprived teenager!" Remus said, exasperated. No reply.

Alright.....this calls for desperate measures, thought Remus. Moving to the end of the bed, he grabbed the mattress and tipped it off the bed, causing Sirius to topple onto the hard ground.

"OOWWW! Moony, what was that for?" Sirius demanded, glaring up from the floor. Remus grinned. "Your wake-up call. Honestly, Sirius. You snore worse than a pregnant hippo!"

Sirius raised an eyebrow, and somehow stood upright, swaying. "I wasn't aware that hippos snored." Remus rolled his eyes again, and pointed towards the kitchen. "I'll make some breakfast - you try and get dressed without wrecking havoc. Oh, and by the way? You look like hell."

Needless to say, Sirius wasn't too impressed with this comment.

Grumbling about annoying werewolves with PMS, he trudged to the bathroom and peered into the mirror. What was even more annoying was that Remus was right - he did look like hell. He hated it when Moony was right.

Since he had arrived at the cottage, Sirius had been up late many nights, catching up on twelve years of news, and recalling the old times with Remus. Not to mention contacting "the old crowd", as Dumbledore had put it. Mundungus Fletcher had almost blasted him through the living-room wall, when he had showed up and tried to talk to him. Then again - Mundungus Fletcher wasn't exactly the most sociable person alive. Sirius had yet to contact Arabella Figg.

He was planning to drop in that day and see Harry - Sirius was willing to bet a 100 galleons that Harry was having a miserable summer so far with the Dursleys.

Harry. Sirius was hit with an overwhelming feeling of guilt. He had only sent one short note to his godson, when he should be sending letters daily! Sirius frowned at his reflection, as he scrubbed his face with soap and water, and attempted to brush his hair, which was sticking up in every direction. Even now, he could see Harry's face, full of pain, describing the events in the graveyard - the encounter with Voldemort - James and Lily - the Death Eaters.....and Wormtail.

If Voldemort doesn't kill you first, Wormtail, I will, thought Sirius savagely.

He was going to pay - for the deaths of Lily and James.......and the suffering he put Harry through. Brooding, Sirius stalked back to his makeshift bedroom, and pulled on a borrowed robe from Remus. A delicious smell wafted in from the kitchen. Thank God one of us can cook.

Entering the small kitchen, Sirius' stomach rumbled. "Bacon! Remus, have I told you recently how much I value your friendship? Your integrity? And.....your cooking skills?" he said joyously. Remus grinned in a good-natured way.

"No, not recently. I wouldn't mind hearing it again, though......." Sirius swatted a hand at his head, and Remus ducked. "So much for that. Well, eat up. Not that you really need telling," he added, eyeing Sirius as he sat down at the table and started to shovel bacon and eggs down his throat at top speed. Pouring a cup of coffee for himself, Remus joined Sirius at the table.

"So, what are your wonderful plans for today?" asked Remus.

"I was thinking of perhaps visiting Arabella Figg....."

"-and on the side, dropping in to see Harry?" finished Remus, raising an eyebrow.

Sirius looked sheepish. "You know me too well."

There was a slight pause, before Sirius continued on. "I doubt he's having much fun with the Dursleys," Sirius almost spat out the name. "Besides, I want to see how Harry is......and how he's coping with...everything...." he trailed off. Remus looked thoughtful.

"What if you're spotted? I doubt the Dursleys would be too impressed if you showed up on their doorstep, demanding to see your godson."

Sirius shrugged. "A disguise? Anything that gets me past Muggle police without being noticed."

When Remus still looked skeptical, Sirius waved a hand airily. "Don't worry, Moony. I can transfigure my image pretty damn good - you know I'm unbeatable in transfiguration," he added, joking.

When he finished his breakfast, which took a surprisingly short time, Sirius stood up. "Er, Remus? I need a favour...."

Remus crossed his arms and looked at Sirius warily. "I'm listening."

"I need to borrow your wand today - I need a wand to Apparate and transfigure myself."

Remus winced. Then, he pulled out his own, battered wand and handed it over to Sirius. "No pranks, or that's the last time you touch it again," he threatened. Sirius looked positively delighted to have a wand in his hand - it had been a long time since he'd seen his own wand. "Moony, I owe you a favour."

"You owe me a million favours, Sirius. Each bigger than the last."

"True. Well, I guess it's time I left. Don't stay up waiting," Sirius said cheerfully. He turned and walked out the front door into the front garden, but before he could Disapparate, Remus poked his head out the door.

"Padfoot, do not curse the Dursleys. I doubt Dumbledore would be impressed ...." he called.

Sirius let out a disappointed sigh.

"Spoilsport!"

And with that, he vanished, leaving behind a chuckling Remus, who shook his head, before closing the door.

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Draco Malfoy resignedly stared at the blank piece of parchment in front of him. He hated writing essays. He was, according to his teachers, very slack when it came to assigned work. But Draco couldn't really see the point of slaving over writing a report that a teacher had probably read a zillion times before. It was pointless.

Malfoy Manor was huge, and he currently sat in its enormous library, the History of Magic books and the assignment slip of paper in front of him. A house elf stood next to the table, eagerly waiting to help. "Does sir require any help?" it asked, in a high-pitched and squeaky voice.

"No. Go away and........do whatever you do. Go prune a bush or something," Draco ordered, looking down his nose at the bothersome creature. Bowing, it scurried out of the library, leaving him alone. Sighing, he fiddled with his quill and tried to think of a way to start the essay.

Explain, in 2000 words, how the primitive wizards in early human times lived and how they used /developed their magic. Also describe their lifestyle in comparison with the way a Muggle would have lived, including examples.

Fascinating. Not.

After spending ten minutes of flipping through his History of Magic textbook, he realised that there was nothing in there to help him. He'd have to search for information, amongst the vast collection of books. Silently cursing, Draco stood up and began to inspect the many bookshelves. The majority of the books were, however, focused on the Dark Arts. This library boasted the largest collection of reference material towards Dark magic than anywhere else in Britain. But now that made it even harder to find what he needed.

As if the holiday hadn't been annoying enough. After coming back to consciousness, Draco had gotten off the train, covered in hex marks and seething with fury. How dare they? He was a Malfoy, and no one messes with a Malfoy. That Potter was going to get exactly what he deserved, sooner or later. The Dark Lord would take care of that........

Tense with anger, he stormed up and down the aisles. Stupid Potty, with his stupid broomstick, with his stupid scar, with his stupid friends......It made him sick, to see Dumbledore favour them so much. What does he have that I don't? Draco asked himself angrily. But he already knew. It was Potter's scar that got him out of everything. At least Snape hated him too.

Malfoy Manor had become somewhat of a meeting place for the Death Eaters. Draco had known about his father's past, even as a young boy.......and hadn't cared. After all, Malfoy's were a traditional Slytherin family, and Slytherins were traditionally into the Dark Arts. But it was, (Draco was slightly ashamed to say) disturbing, to see so many creepy and downright evil wizards visiting daily.

He had once heard that Voldemort himself had come to the Manor, late at night. Draco was glad that he'd been upstairs and asleep at the time........somehow, the idea of meeting Voldemort was terrifying. But as Lucius Malfoy's only son and heir, he would one day have to meet him. And probably commit himself to the Dark Order.

Draco's grey eyes clouded over in his shame. The truth was......he didn't want to be a Death Eater. He'd seen what happened to those loyal to the Dark Lord - they weren't treated any better than those who opposed him. But as it stood, he didn't have a choice.

Snapping out of his grim musings, Draco examined the bookshelf in front of him, and was relieved to see several thick volumes that looked promising. Ah. About time he found some helpful information. Pulling out the books, he staggered under their immense weight and began to lug them back to the table, to finally start researching.

Below, he heard the rumbling of voices and knew that Lucius was in another one of his 'meetings' with his 'friends'. His mother, Narcissa, tended to avoid the Death Eaters as much as Draco did. She was a beautiful woman, in an untouchable way, and always distant. But it was comforting that she shared the same opinion of the Death Eaters that he did. No doubt she was out shopping or something. Turning back to the problem at hand, Draco ran his hand through his usually slicked back, orderly hair, and winced.

He hated writing essays.

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