Author's note at bottom (so if you don't want to read it, you can just ignore it).

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.

A Birthday Wish (Working title)

Part One:

How Tuesdays Began

Unlike most other children his age, Harry Potter's favorite day was Tuesday, not Saturday. He had never been able to sleep in, his sleep usually rudely interrupted by the pounding of a meaty fist on his cupboard door, as his cousin Dudley slept peacefully above. At the tender age of five he had already learned how to fry eggs and bacon, and to carefully extract the toast from the toaster before it darkened beyond golden brown. Now at near seven Harry was an expert.

Harry was not allowed to watch Saturday morning cartoons, though he could hear them from where he stood carefully dusting the ceramic knick knacks that his Aunt Petunia "trusted" him with. He had broken one once, and a broken wrist where Uncle Vernon had grabbed it too roughly ripping the broken pieces from his hand, had taught him to never break one again.

But enough about Saturdays and the thoughts that went along with them, it was Tuesday, and as such a day to be looked forward to if you were a dark haired, too thin boy, with bright green eyes magnified by a pair of too big glasses, and a scar that was remarkably shaped similarly to a bolt of lightning. Tuesdays were the days that his two most favorite people showed up. They would be waiting outside at the end of the drive as he got home from school, as they weren't allowed to come any closer. Aunt Petunia was very adamant about this, and the rule had been set forth on that very first day that they had shown up on the doorstep. Harry could remember it quite clearly though it had been around two years ago.

He had just turned five that summer, which to Harry seemed to be a rather adult age as it was one step up from four, and meant that he would be attending school. He had often had day dreams of what it might be like, as he was locked away in his cupboard forgotten. Daydreams of becoming friends with the children he watched out the windows or through the slats in the fence that surrounded the garden in the back. There would be no fences at school to keep him from joining in play. And there hadn't been. But it seemed that Harry had his own personal fence, always following him, and stopping him from reaching what he wanted most. And that particular fence's name was Dudley.

It was due to this that his first day of school had been an utter disappointment. No one would come near him after the rumors and the bullying Dudley had already showed himself capable of. That and his oversized clothing and taped glasses caused the other children to snicker at them behind their hands. While Harry hadn't cried in a long time (At least not in public) he had felt the distinct need to many times throughout the day. For once he would have been happy to be hidden away, just so that he could let it all out without being made fun of for it.

When the end of school came and Aunt Petunia arrived to drive them home, Harry's feelings of crushed disappointment grew as she didn't ask how his day was, as all the other mother's or father's did. Instead ignoring him and Harry felt as if he didn't quite exist. He had, for some reason, thought that she would see what a great help he was around the house everyday, and would miss him (or at least his cleaning and cooking abilities) maybe even just a little bit. With his little boy heart and imagination, he had envisioned her getting down on her knees so that she could look into his eyes as she often did Dudley when saying something important, and telling him how much she had missed his presence, and could he please stay home instead of going to school, because she just couldn't manage without him.

It turned out he was wrong. The drive home was made with three people in the vehicle, but there was only conversation for two. Harry was beginning to finally see where his place was, and even though he had always felt as if he didn't quite belong in this family, he'd never felt quite so alone before. And it was at this point, unbeknownst to him that he began to accept it.

As soon as the car had parked in the drive, Harry extracted himself from the vehicle and made a beeline for the back yard, aunt petunia never complained about his spending extra time in the garden as long as he was working and not dawdling. And it was the one place Vernon and Dudley wouldn't go, for fear of trampling the plants that grew there, and thus facing passive aggressive hints all summer that she might have won the blue ribbon for best grown such and such if someone hadn't crushed it. Not that it mattered, the one year it had happened, Harry had still been blamed.

Feelings of disappointment had quickly turned to curiosity as he caught sight of the two strangers standing at the front door. They appeared to be having some sort of argument. The one with dark hair was gesturing with his hands in animated fashion, while the other, a brown haired fellow stared at him with something akin to fond exasperation.

"He's James' kid, of course he'll like you. Quit worrying padfoot."

Harry's ears perked up at the sound of his father's name. Usually when he heard it though, it was followed closely by drunk, car crash, and the man who had single handedly ruined and shortened his mother's life. This man said it with none of the hatred that his aunt uttered it with, rather more of an air of sad recollection.

"But I—" whatever he would have said was cut off with a screech, that made all who heard it jump.

"YOU! What are you doing here?! Dudley get back in the car!" Harry stared at the woman, this was the most infuriated he'd ever seen her, and he had seen her mad loads of times. He tried to make himself appear a bit smaller, hoping to be overlooked. But he knew it was inevitable that she would look his way and somehow pin the strangers appearance all on him, as if he had somehow pulled them out of thin air.

As Petunia moved forward, Harry took a step away, and it was this motion that got the two men's attention. After which they seemed to ignore the tall thin woman stalking towards them, something Harry thought really not smart.

"Harry?" the man, Padfoot?, said his voice soft but also had a raspy quality to it as if he had shouted too loud at a football match and was now suffering the effects a day later. Harry fidgted, unsure of what to do, his gaze moving from one man to the other, to his aunt who's face was an alarming shade of red and then back to the men.

He gave an unsure nod, and it seemed all the response he needed to give and the thin dark haired man was upon him, grabbing him up in a hug of a like that Harry could never remember having. Frankly, it both warmed him and frightened him. Was he being kidnapped? Would he mind if he was? The Dursley's probably wouldn't.

He could hear the conversation going on at the door.

"You shouldn't be here."

"Dumbledore sent—"

"I don't care who sent you, I want you gone."

"We have every right to see Harry-"

"You gave up that right when you left him here."

"It wasn't our choice!"

"Well neither was it ours!"

Their voices were raising and nosy neighbors were peeking over carefully trimmed shrubbery. Dudley was hanging on to the car door, his pudgy fingers fidgeting along the top , playing with the lock, pressing it down and then pulling it back up. Harry wasn't sure what was going on. All he knew was that his face was pressed up against slightly rough material, and something wet was dripping down on him.

He pulled back, his face tilting upwards and green eyes lingering on the tears that were streaking down the man's cheeks, before meeting the other's eyes. "Why are you crying?" he asked just around the same time that Petunia finally noticed that they were quickly becoming the center of attention, and not positive at that. "Are you hurt?"

The man just hugged him a little tighter, giving a shake of his head perhaps too emotional to speak past the lump in his throat, causing the child to squirm a bit, but to be honest he'd wanted a hug like this for well, a very long time. Whatever the stranger might have answered was interrupted by his aunt again as she reluctantly told them to come inside out of the prying eyes on Privet drive. She kept Dudley close behind her though she seemed to not care that Harry was being held 'hostage' by one.

All this was quite confusing to Harry, and continued to become more so as he was sat down on the sofa he wasn't usually allowed to sit in between the two strangers, who seemed to know Harry quite well. Petunia ushered Dudley upstairs to play with his toys promising a snack later, and waited until she heard him enter his room before turning on the three. Harry pressed back into the cushions, his gaze flickering upward to the men's faces.

The light colored hair man was looking about the room, gaze lingering on the large amount of family pictures, none of which included Harry. The other though seemed hard pressed to look away, as if afraid he were a dream and would disappear. There was also something there that was very much like how Petunia and Vernon looked at Dudley.

"Now." Petunia said decisively, "Why are you here? Here to take the boy away?" Green eyes snapped to his aunt at that, his body tensing and heart racing. What if the two men were relatives, maybe there had been a mistake and he'd been places with the wrong family. Or maybe.. his imagination ran away with him. While a pleasant way to pass the time in the dark, it often led him to the wrong conclusions, and started off nicely and then moved onto the worst. This made obvious by his next thought that maybe they were the men Petunia and Vernon told him about, that came and snatched bad little children during the night.. but it wasn't night though.

"Unfortunately we can't. Dumbledore said you would know why." The tired man said, regret in his eyes as he looked down at him.

Harry hated secrets just as much as he loved them, and he could tell that there was a very big secret going on and that it involved him. He fidgeted, scratching an itch on the back of his calf with a scuffed shoe.

He couldn't stop himself from asking the question plaguing his mind. He was after all only a little boy, and despite the Dursley's reprimands that he shouldn't speak unless spoken to, he sometimes slipped up.

"Who are you?" he asked. The air seemed to still and everyone's attention was on him for once.

"I'm, well" the man gave a soft barking laugh, and answered, "I'm your godfather.."

"Padfoot" Harry finished, remembering the name from earlier. Padfoot seemed to brighten and then a look of understanding appeared and he dimmed a little. Still he smiled again, and introduced the other.

"And he's your Uncle Moony."

Harry looked at Moony. He didn't look much like an uncle, and he'd never seen a godfather, so he wasn't sure if Padfoot was a good example of one or not.

"Moony and .. Padfoot." Harry said slowly, an odd look on his face, as he tried to keep from giggling at their names. After all he had just spent the day being laughed at, and knew how bad it felt to be laughed at for things outside a person's control.

Moony rolled his eyes in an exasperated way, but Harry could tell it wasn't mean. "It's actually Remus," he said with a hand to his chest, "and Sirius" a glance to the other man. Harry didn't really think those names were that much more normal then Moony and Padfoot, but he wouldn't comment on it.

"I'm Harry!" he introduced himself, shifting in his seat a bit, a wide smile appearing. The two grinned back.

"We know. We were there the day your Mum and Dad named you."

Padfoot, Harry liked that name better, seemed to be looking at something far away for a moment before he shook his head and returned his attention to Harry.

"Bo—Harry go to your room." Petunia said flustered, causing him to jump a bit. He'd almost forgotten she was there, so caught up in the fact that two people actually seemed to want to talk to him. He looked at her. She wanted him to go to his room? What room? The cupboard. His gaze strayed toward the door under the stairs and Petunia blanched.

"I mean.. go outside. It's a lovely day out. No need to spend it all in doors. These two.. men" she looked as if she was smelling something bad, "and I need to talk."

Harry reluctantly got off the couch wondering if he'd see the two again. He shot them worried glances over his shoulder as he walked toward the glass doors that led out to the backyard.

The time dragged slowly and Harry dared not touch any of the toys that littered the yard. Instead sitting quietly and inspecting the ants that crawled by. He followed them to their home and watched for a while as they marched in and out carrying what he assumed was little tidbits of food.

It seemed like hours, but had only been about ten minutes, when the two men came outside alone. Padfoot looked a bit red in the face, the way Uncle Vernon did when he got really mad, and Moony didn't look quite so tired anymore.

They sat with him for a while under the watchful eye of Petunia (who was making sure no freak stuff was going on near her house), and told him more in depth about his relation to him, and that they would be visited each and every Tuesday, before his Uncle Vernon came home, and that they would be waiting at the end of the drive. Padfoot would later tell him sheepishly that they weren't allowed any closer, though Harry never found out why Aunt Petunia had set such a rule. He supposed it was kind of like her no Harry sitting on the sofa rule.

But first they would have a secret code. Upon seeing them he would say, "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," the first few times he had mispronounced the word solemnly, but it always made him giggle to say the phrase, and Moony patiently corrected him. In return the two would answer, "Mischief managed" If they did not answer right, he was to run.

Harry didn't understand why they didn't think he wouldn't recognize them, but figured it to be some sort of game, and he didn't mind having a secret code. After all he did love secrets. . . but even more now, he loved Tuesdays.

And as he rushed home as fast as his thin legs could carry him and caught sight of the two men waiting patiently at the end of the drive, he couldn't help but wish that every day was a Tuesday.

End of Part One

Second Part: How Tuesdays Began (Remus and Sirius version)

In this why Sirius isn't in Azkaban will be explained. I want to get the background information out of the way before getting into the really exciting parts that I'm looking forward to.

Author note with an introduction, and some answers to questions that might be posed:

I know most people will skip over this author's note, and that's alright, but I feel the need to write something.

It's been a long time since I've attempted to actually write anything long or in depth. In fact even longer since I've finished a story. Not good I know, but unlike these last times I have a rough outline of what the key events are. This story will be an accumulation of things I've been wanting to write for a while, a connecting of little snippets that have been floating about my head.

If you've never read my stories, then let me tell you a little bit about my style. I love AU stories, fics where Remus and Sirius raise Harry, though they will not be raising him in this story, and ones in which Harry is sent to an alternate world. This fic will be some of both. I'm hoping to keep it interesting. I'm afraid since it's been such a long time though my writing might be a bit off. If it seems choppy let me know. I also have realistic expectations of myself in that I know I'm not the best writer out there, but neither am I the worst. I merely want to get this story out because it's been bothering me all week to do so. However I would like input.

Some questions that might be posed. Why Tuesdays? I don't know honestly. When I was sitting at work, the sentence "Harry, unlike all other children, loved Tuesdays." Popped into my head and wouldn't go away.. it was what kind of prompted this story. Weird huh?

Why is Sirius free? Explained in next chapter. It will be from Remus and Sirius point of view.

Why can't they take custody of Harry? I assume that Dumbledore would have believed Harry to be the most safe and magically (heh ironic) protected at the Dursleys. Does that seem right? It's been a while since I've read through all the books. I don't want too many discrepancies…

Any more questions and I'd love to answer them.

Should I be more descriptive? I'm trying very hard to show you what's going on rather then telling you straight out. Am I being too descriptive? As much as I'm writing this for myself, I also like to know if other's enjoy it. So if you think it's worth continuing please let me know. Thank You!