Summary: Magic herself senses Harry's desire for a family when he is a very young age. And so she does something that surprises even herself. AU where Harry is sent back in time and adopted by Lily's family. Slash. SB/HP because Sirius is lovely. Repost of a story I took down, reedited and rewritten.

:Parsletongue:

"Regular speech"

Chapter 2

Remus Lupin sat at the kitchen table in the house of a man he had only met once before today, and they had not met well, he thought despondently. He felt a phantom pain in his shoulder where his scar was and frowned across the table.

Fenrir Greyback smiled wolfishly at him. "So you think you're a wizard, do you?"

Remus looked blank. "I am a wizard."

"Really?" Fenrir asked. "Because I was sure you were classified as a dangerous dark creature. Not human. Not a wizard, certainly."

"I could say the same about you," Remus offered, shrugging his thin shoulders.

Fenrir blinked at him, then bared his teeth in a sharp smile. "Why should I let some scrawny pup pretending to be a wizard stay in my home?"

"Maybe you should have asked yourself that before you decided to-" Remus hesitated to finish his sentence, not quite sure of the wording. "Turn me?"

"You're taking this rather calmly, pup. Not frightened, not even a little?"

Remus wet his lips and searched the man's face. "I haven't decided yet."

Fenrir snorted. "So you'd stay with the man who hurt you and ruined your life?"

"Here's the way I see it, Mr. Greyback. I haven't got anywhere else to go. But don't think I haven't looked into the rumors surrounding you. I know I ought to be afraid. You've done worse than Turn other children, children younger than I am, than I was." He studied Fenrir with an air that was older than his young face. "I suppose I will have to trust that you aren't going to try anything, and if you do," here Remus bared his teeth in a mockery of Fenrir's own wolfish smile. "Don't think I haven't learnt to defend myself. When you have a father like mine, you pick up these things pretty quick."

"Let me see if I understand this, pup. If I try anything, you're going to knife me like you did your father? Is that it?"

"I'll certainly try."

Fenrir surveyed the boy. He was small for his age, clearly quick on his feet. His skin was sun-kissed and his honey hair was wispy around his face. He had clear defined cheekbones and his luminescent eyes were the same yellow-orange as his own.

The boy didn't look like he was street-smart, nor did he look like a killer. He looked quiet and bookish and gentle.

Fenrir smiled at him, more carefully this time. "I want you to call me Fen."

The boy shrugged. "If you like."

"You'll come home for Yule."

"Sure."

Fenrir leaned forwards, holding out his hand for the boy to grasp. "Well met, Mr. Lupin, and welcome to my home."

Life with Fenrir could almost be considered relaxing compared to the life Remus had had with his father.

There was no constant crushing worry that someone would discover all of his secrets, because Fenrir was already aware of them. He was not physically abusive or antagonistic towards Remus as his father had been, and Remus was not nearly as afraid.

The man was constantly leering at him and making lewd suggestions, but after Remus had spit in his face and held a knife to his throat, he did so from a distance. This event did not have any effect on the constant derogatory remarks about his trying to be a wizard, but Remus did not mind those.

Fenrir was not actively cruel to him, although more than once he'd had to dodge an angry punch. The comments were almost teasing now, as though Fenrir did not quite care to admit that he was fond of Remus, other than to tease him mercilessly.

Remus, for his part, drew strength from looking into eyes that were the same shade as his own, and he no longer flinched and jerked at loud sounds and sudden movements.

He thought he was settling in rather well, all things considered.

He was not worried, exactly, about the upcoming school year, so much as he was wary like the wolf was wary in a new environment.

He did not want the other students to look at him and see a monster. He did not want them to know that he had killed, and would kill again, to protect himself. He was not afraid. No, Remus felt that at this point, he was fearless.

But like a child, he desired their approval.

No one wanted to look into a face and see the judgement for their actions.

"You are a child," Fenrir said when Remus voiced his concern. Fenrir was lying bare chested on his back in the middle of the stone floor, as if he did not feel the cold seeping in from the cracks in the house.

Remus was wrapped up in the fur that Fenrir preferred over a proper bed and was perched on one of the tall backed kitchen chairs, clutching a steaming mug of cocoa. "I don't feel like one."

"I expect because you've never had a proper childhood."

"And whose fault is that?" Remus challenged.

Fenrir grinned. "Couldn't help myself. I like them young."

The disapproving look Remus sent him would've made a better man feel ashamed. Fenrir merely leered at him. "I thought we weren't throwing judgement in people's faces. Or are you a hypocrite now as well as a murderer, pup?"

"Not a murderer," Remus declared.

"You killed him," Fenrir pointed out. "Took a knife to his throat while he was sleeping."

"He was a filthy animal."

"Then what are you?"

When Remus smiled, it was a rather cool, unpleasant thing. "I suppose I'm a little unhinged."

The man on the floor snorted a laugh. "You got that right," he said.

Remus honestly did not mean to be cold hearted and violent. He did not want to be a bad person. But he supposed it came with the territory. His mind, he thought, was not entirely his own. Any moment when he was angry or frightened, his control over his own body disappeared.

And the thought of losing that control terrified him.

He could not, however, blame the death of his father on the wolf. That was purely his own doing. He had cried afterword, sat on the bathroom floor covered in blood and snot and had thought he would die from the guilt.

When a certain kind of numb apathy had settled over him, he had torched the house and walked and walked until he had found Fenrir.

Remus was suddenly aware of a prickling in his nose and a wetness on his face. He hadn't realized he was crying. Fenrir was watching him quietly, almost curiously.

"Would that be the remorse kicking in?" Fenrir asked, almost kindly.

"I don't know," Remus said a little hoarsely.

Fenrir watched him for a little longer as Remus sat miserably, tears running down his face. "If it makes you feel any better at all, I don't think you're a monster. After all, I have raped and killed and Turned people older and younger than you, and I have never spent a moment of my life feeling sorry for it. It makes you sound like an angel in comparison."

It did not make Remus feel any better, and really, he felt more miserable than anything.

He was not expecting Fenrir to get up off the ground and scoop Remus up suddenly, blanket and cocoa and all. He stiffened instantly. "What – "

Fenrir sat them down on the lumpy, worn sofa and pried the mug out of Remus's hands. He set it on the coffee table and gathered the skinny boy back into his arms, drawing Remus against his scarred chest.

"Whether you've killed someone or not, you're still just a scrawny young pup to me," he said wisely. "I'm hardly going to begrudge you a good cry. It's really about time."

Remus bit his lip as his eyes started to water again and he pressed his face into the crook of Fenrir's neck.

To his credit, Fenrir did not move other than to rub Remus's back comfortingly.

O

James Potter was more worried than either of his parents thought about attending Hogwarts. He was not a good student. He had no delusions about that. He was messy and disorganized and distracted and he couldn't focus and he had to just go and go and go.

When he read, the words on the page seemed to rearrange themselves, and so he stumbled and stuttered over them until he was bleary eyed and tired and frustrated beyond belief.

He was fidgety and restless and a born Gryffindor and he just knew that no matter what he did he would mess up his potions and fall asleep in history because a class taught by a ghost would just bore him to tears.

As a pureblood and an heir, he stayed mostly at home, tutored by the most brilliant men and women that his money could buy. But that was not the same as having a friend, and so he was nervous and terribly awkward, and he knew he would never feel so hopelessly tongue-tied as he knew he would when he got on the train.

He was self-conscious about his messy hair and the glasses that were always sliding down his nose, and because his knees were knobby and because everyone would be expecting some shining Gryffindor, and he was not sure he was entirely brave enough.

James decided the only thing he could do was smile fiercely and just keep pushing on and faking the confidence he did not actually have because he'd heard somewhere that that kind of thing worked.

He did not rightly know what had possessed him to accompany his father to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but looking back on it, he certainly did not regret it.

He was standing behind a rather tall potted plant, peeking out at the most intimidating man that he had ever seen in his life. He was tall and scarred and scowling and the only thing that took away from his image was the scruffy looking boy clinging to his arm almost unnoticed.

It did not even occur to James, not even once, that they might have been creatures themselves. He didn't think to wonder why they might have been standing there in line.

He watched the boy tug on the tall man's sleeve. "Fen?" he said. "I want to go to Diagon Alley."

Fen did not even spare the boy a glance. "No."

"Why not?" The boy demanded.

"Because I said so, pup." The man scowled down at him. "And stop hanging on me."

The boy sneered at him. "I thought you liked that kind of thing."

The man was obviously not expecting that response because he laughed sharply and freed his arm. "Don't tempt me. I'm trying to be a paternal figure."

The boy grimaced. "Don't. I can take care of myself."

"Can't see me that way?" he leered.

The boy gave him a look that was thick with disgust. "I'm going to Diagon Alley. Don't wait around for me. I can find my own way home." With that, he stalked off in James' direction.

James was rather disturbed. The man was clearly some kind of perv. He wondered if the boy needed help. He chose that moment to sidle out from behind the plant. "Er, you're going to Diagon?" he asked awkwardly.

The boy's eyes flicked over him as if he were assessing his worth. He tilted his head to the side. "I might."

James smiled nervously, trying to remember what he knew about faking confidence and what it could do for you. "Mind if I um go with you?"

The boy's gaze was sharp, taking in James as if he were memorizing everything about him. "Not at all. I'm Remus, by the way."

James smile widened a little. "James. James Potter."

O

At some level, Sirius was aware that this was not good, the crushing sense of emptiness and loneliness that he felt in his chest. He had seized onto them, Severus and Lily and Sage, like a man who was suffocating because he did not think he could bare to be surrounded by his family even after he left for Hogwarts.

He also did not think he would survive his mother's impending wrath if he was not a Slytherin. And so he needed Sev rather badly.

But he was jealous, terribly jealous, that Severus was everything that he did not know how to be. He was snarky and sarcastic and perfectly Slytherin and his mother had positively crooned over him.

And then Sirius was jealous all over again, because Severus was what Walburga desperately wanted Sirius to be, and he simply could not. He could not force himself to be that way, no matter what she wished. And as much as he wanted her to just love him, it seemed she could not, either.

And so he threw himself furiously into pranking, and into his new friends. He knew it would catch up with him, because he was going too fast and giving too much, and there was simply nothing there in the cavity of his chest that he could truly offer, but his need and his anger fueled him.

And yet he did not want them.

Sirius wanted to fill himself on his own, to somehow close the gaping hole in his chest. He wanted to be complete, without their help. And so he loathed the three of them as desperately as he loved them, and he knew there was nothing anyone could do to help.

O

Peter Pettigrew had not lost his baby fat, and he rather doubted he ever would. He was too pink and too pudgy around the middle, and when he looked up at himself in his mirror, he wished he could be more like other 11 year old boys he had met.

They were long and gangly and loud and clever, and Peter knew he was not any of those things. He did not want to leave the friends that he knew here in his neighborhood to go to Hogwarts, because it was bad enough not being able to stand the sight of himself in the mirror.

He did not want to be alone and friendless, he thought glumly. But he could not think of any reason that anyone would want to be his friend. He was nothing special, except maybe to his mother and sisters, and they could not be there with him all of his life.

He would have to be brave enough to go it alone, and not worry when he was picked last for partners, or if he had to sit through meal times alone.

He resolved to never let something like being alone bring him to tears like a child. He was going to brave, and he would do it for his own sake.

O

Remus scanned the platform for James Potter. He'd certainly had an interesting time with him, sneaking off into Diagon Alley, and despite Fenrir's insistence that Remus was more of a lone wolf, he had rather hoped for a friend.

Instead of James, he collided with a vibrant red headed girl, nearly toppling over her cart. "Sorry," he said through gritted teeth, not looking at her.

The girl sniffed at him. "Watch where you're going."

A pale boy with the same eyes elbowed her rather sharply in the side. "Be nice," he hissed. "I swear, you sounded just like Sev."

"Sorry," the girl said, locking eyes with him.

Remus smiled a bit helplessly. Eye contact made his wolf feel challenged and he could already feel the pacing presence stirring in his mind. "No worries. I'm just – ah – looking for someone." He saw James over their heads and sidestepped the two, snagging James' sleeve as he walked by. "Potter."

James smiled at him, a bit too widely, and to anyone who didn't know the signs it would've looked cocky. But Remus knew a bad case of nerves when he saw one. "Lupin," his voice was tinged with just the faintest relief. "I've just escaped – ahem - left my parents. Listen, did your guardian leave?"

"Yeah, he's not one for crowds."

James grinned. "Brilliant, listen, I know the greatest prank we could play on the Slytherins."

"I already told you, I won't be your – "

"Prank?" the redhead said sharply. "You can't play a prank on someone just because of their House."

Her brother looked delighted. "Prank?" he repeated with a great deal less venom. "Can I help? I'd love to help."

James looked rather gratified. "Certainly. Come along then – uh –"

"Evans. Sage Evans." The boy was grinning happily now, as if somewhere underneath his messy hair he'd just decided that they were friends for life.

"Right then," James said, clapping his hands in front of him. "Evans, Lupin, I've prank we can play on the Slytherins."

"No," Remus said.

"Yes," Sage said at the same time. "My mates, Severus and Sirius, will most likely be Slytherins. Siri's brilliant at pranks, so we'll have to be careful if we want to get him."

James looked incredulous. "A Slytherin who likes pranks?"

Lily butted in. "I say, what kind of bigot are you? Targeting someone for their House and then judging them before you've even met them!"

Sage darted in and kissed her on the cheek before she could say more. "See you later, Lils! Pranks to plan!"