Harry Potter: Raised by Wolves.

"They were friends, then."

"The best of friends," Lupin said softly. "Practically brothers. The four of us were inseparable, but those two… it went beyond friendship." "You three, and my mum?" Harry asked, confused. Lupin shook his head.

"Myself, James, Sirius, and a boy named Peter Pettigrew." Lupin paused for a long moment, staring off into the distance, lost in a memory. Harry cleared his throat quietly, jolting him back to reality. "That was half a lifetime ago, of course. None of us had any idea that Sirius… sometimes, I still can't believe it myself."

Harry tried to imagine what it would feel like if Ron or Hermione were to suddenly turn out to be Voldemort supporters. The thought made him nauseous. "What happened?" he asked hesitantly. How could it all go wrong?

Your parents went into hiding," Lupin said eventually, not looking Harry in the eye. "Under a very complicated secrecy charm — the Fidelius charm. The charm allows a location or person to be entirely hidden, except from the one person who knows the secret — and anyone they should tell. They chose Sirius to be their Secret Keeper. Trusted him the most out of any of us. Within the week…" He trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut. Harry could fill in the rest. "Peter was furious when he found out. Went after Sirius. But he was never as good with spells as the rest of us, not quite as brave… He was one of the people Sirius killed when he blew up the street. All that was left of him was a finger."

Harry thought his heart had stopped beating. Silence hung thick in the room after Lupin's declaration, both of them caught up in horror and grief. "I'm sorry, Harry," Lupin said abruptly. His shoulders hunched as he sunk in on himself, as if he could hide from his own memories. "That's more information than you ever needed. I should've at least broken it to you gently."

"No, I'm glad you told me. I— I needed to know," Harry insisted. Sirius Black, the reason his parents were dead. "He was my godfather, wasn't he?"

"I— yes. How did you know?"

The words flashed through his mind. Named Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. He had his answer, now. He opened his mouth, unsure what he would say, but the door suddenly swung open.

Snape stood in the doorway, holding a smoking goblet. "Lupin. Potter," he greeted. Lupin jumped to his feet, almost knocking over his teacup.

"Ah, Severus. I was just showing Harry my grindylow." He gestured to a tank in the corner of the classroom that Harry hadn't noticed before that second. Snape's expression remained flat.

"Fascinating," he deadpanned. "Make sure to drink that directly, Lupin. I have an entire cauldronful in my personal lab."

"Yes, I'll be with you to take more when I need it. Thank you, Severus." He took the goblet from the dark-haired man, who gave Lupin one last unreadable look, then swept from the classroom, shutting the door behind him. Lupin looked at the goblet, then grimaced, knocking it all back in one. "Ugh. Pity he can't make it taste any better."

"Professor, what?"

"Oh, not to worry, Harry. I have an ongoing medical issue, Severus — ah, Professor Snape — was kind enough to brew the only potion that helps. I'll be right as rain. I'm very lucky to be working with him, you know; not many Potions Masters are up to the task, it's a rather tricky brew."

Harry's mind flashed back to yearbook. "He was top of your class."

the Lupin's mouth made a funny half-smirk. "Indeed he was. Though Lily almost beat him to it. I thought he'd have a heart attack when he found out how close it had been."

"You were friends?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised. Lupin almost dropped the goblet.

"Friends? Oh, I don't know if I'd say that. We were… things are complicated, Harry, when you're Gryffindors and Slytherins. Even when you're no longer students."

Unbidden, Harry's mind flashed to blond hair and silver eyes. Heat rose in his cheeks. He understood that kind of complicated. "I'm sorry, Harry, but perhaps we can pick this conversation up another time? I'm afraid it's taken rather a lot out of me." Lupin set down the goblet, and Harry stood. The professor placed a tentative hand on Harry's shoulder. "I am always happy to talk to you about your parents. I'm sorry I didn't sooner, but I thought someone already had. I… well, I assumed you'd chosen to have nothing to do with me." He gave a small, self-deprecating shrug. "Since that's not the case… you used to call me Uncle Remus once, Harry. I'm not asking you to do so again, but… perhaps we could be friends?"

Harry studied the man; the f irst person in his life who had offered to tell him about his parents, who had really known them. A man who, under different circumstances, Harry would have grown up calling Uncle Remus, loving like family. "I'd like that," he said eventually, offering a hesitant smile.

Lupin beamed.

Harry was back in the Gryffindor common room by the time Ron and Hermione returned from Hogsmeade, pockets bulging with all kinds of treats. "Oh, y'know, quiet," he said when Hermione asked him how his day had gone. "Been doing homework."

He could've told them about his visit to Professor Lupin, but he stayed quiet. To do that would have meant explaining the yearbook, and Sirius Black, and why he was looking at the yearbook to begin with… it was better just to not. He was keeping too many secrets from them already; what was one more?

"Anyway, enough about me. What's Hogsmeade like? Where did you go?" As Ron emptied his pockets into Harry's lap, showering him with sweets, the pair gushed about the wonders of the wizarding village. Harry kept up his fake smile the entire time, unwrapping a chocolate frog for distraction. They sounded like they'd had the time of their lives.

"Hey, I'll be right back. Forgot my jumper," he muttered when they all got up to leave for the feast, darting for the dormitory stairs. Up in his room, he leant against his bedpost and took a deep breath. They didn't mean to rub it in. It wasn't their fault he couldn't go. He should be happy they were on good terms; it was an improvement from having them yell at each other about Crookshanks.

"Harry." He jumped, but it was only Neville, a knowing look on his face. "Alright?"

"Yeah, just needed a minute." He grabbed his jumper off his bed just to have an excuse, and so missed Neville reaching into his robe pocket.

"Here, got you something." Neville held out a hand. In his palm was a silver dish, with what looked like a miniature bonfire stacked inside, waiting to be lit. "Figured, since you couldn't join us tonight…" Harry took the little fire, glancing up at Neville with perhaps the most genuine grin he'd had all day. "Thanks, Nev. This is really great."

Neville blushed, ducking his head. "You're welcome. Now come on, I'm starving."