If anyone had been looking out the window on the street of Grimmauld Place, Islington, London, England at precisely 3:11am, they would have been rather shocked to find a young man suddenly appear out from nowhere between the front of houses 11 and 13.

And, if this curious onlooker were to continue watching, they might have noticed the emergence of another house, shoving 11 and 13 out of the way until it was able to settle nicely between them, as if it had been there this whole time.

James Potter however didn't even pause to think about what Muggles would think about 12 Grimmauld Place should they ever discover it. Instead, he took out his wand -Lily's wand-, opened the gate leading up to the building and with a simple Alohomora, he was pushing the door open and heading inside.

The second the door shut, James cast a Lumos and waited with battered breath for any enchantments to take into effect.

"It is I. James Potter," he said slowly but clearly, "I mean this house no harm. I am only searching for its last descendant."

The house remained eerily quiet and James took a few steps until he was at the foot of the stairs. He sighed deeply, he'd only visited Grimmlaud Place once or twice before and all times he'd been accompanied by Sirius. Being of pure blood had allowed him entrance into the House of Black before. They'd even taken sanctuary there in the early years on the run. But it was dark and terrifying place, too obvious to those who knew them and Remus, unlike himself, had never been welcome.

"Young Mr Potter, it would be wise to leave."

James jumped and raised his wand until it illuminated a small hunched figure peering down at him from the banisters.

"Kreacher," James said in relief before straightening and in a more commanding tone, asked: "Where is your master?"

"Kreacher has not seen the young master since the mistresses' death of a year ago."

James frowned. Honestly, he hadn't expected Sirius to be here. Even when news of Walburga Black's death had the other man logically inheriting the house and Kreacher alike, Sirius had always hated this place. James had simply no other place to start in finding his old friend.

"Has he told you anything else? Before he left? Do you know where he is now?"

But Kreacher shook his bald head.

"My Master has never told me his whereabouts. His only orders were to look after this house. And should his friends ever come seeking shelter, I must be welcoming no matter what blood status such friends have. So Mr Potter, will you be staying the night?"

James felt a tug in his chest at the house elf's question.

"Sirius let us stay here? Even-even if we're no longer with him?" he asked.

"Yes Mr. Potter. Master wishes this house to always be open for his friends. For they are his most precious things," Kreacher then straightened himself, continuing to look down at James from the stairs. "Are you still a friend, Mr Potter?"

"Yeah," came James's automatic reply. "Yeah. I'm still a friend."

But even then he couldn't meet the house elf in the eye.

James was out of the house by midday. Despite being exhausted he'd wanted to get moving right away. He had a friend to save, another one to find and memories to keep buried. With that, putting himself as far from Grimmauld Place as possible was the best thing to do.

It didn't help that now he had absolutely no clue where to go. He hadn't been able to find any clues of Sirius's whereabouts from the house. Nor had Kreacher been able to provide any useful information. He was more lost than he was when he'd first started this crazy hunt and he was losing precious time. Every day he spent out here, Remus was probably being poked and prodded in his Hogsmeade holding cell and James gave a frustrated sigh as he walked through Islington. He'd already let down more people than he cared to imagine. He wasn't going to let Remus down too.

"But I still need a lead," James said, choosing to sit down at a Muggle park bench a few streets down Grimmauld Place. Their usual haunts as schoolboys flashed through his mind but he rejected all of them. The Leaky Cauldron was too crowded. Same with Diagon Alley and Sirius would have to be stupid to set up a place on Hogwarts grounds.

"Bloody hell, what if he's not even in London anymore?"

He could check Godric's Hollow even though his heart was certain that he still wasn't ready for such a visit. He doubted Sirius would be there but it might give him some clues. Or at least stir up something locked in his memories.

"Oi, you little punk!" James paused and looked over to a group of teenage boys gathered in a circle.

"Give it back you freak! What did you do to Trevor?"

"I-I didn't mean to. But you're hurting him!" A shaky voice replied back and James could just make out a small head poking out in the middle of the ring of boys.

"Didn't your parents ever teach you to mind your own business kid?" A boy asked, lashing out and grabbing the smaller boy by the collar, hoisting him up several inches above the ground.

"Oi, put him down," James said from his bench.

At the sounds of an adult the boys broke formation to stare at James who continued to stretch lazily on the bench with feigned indifference. Terrorizing school children didn't really fit into his plans but he couldn't just turn his head away after witnessing the bulling right in front of him.

"Lesson to be learned boys," James said, a touch of his teenage self poking out as he leaned back on the bench. "Don't pick fights right in front of grownups."

"Oh piss off old man," one boy grumbled and James had the graces to look offended.

"Old man? I'm 26 thank you," he replied, twirling his wand. If the boys were Muggles they'd think it was just some stick. If not then, well, even better.

"He started it," another boy spoke up. Jabbing a real stick of his own at the whimpering boy dropped mercilessly on the floor.

"He's a freak! He pushed us without touching us and sent Trevor flying!"

James ran that through his head several times and came to the only logical conclusion.

"What? Like this?" James said. With a wave of his wand, the boys found themselves roughly shoved from behind.

"He's one of them too!" a boy shouted in panic as they backed up several spaces. James gave them a smirk and for the boys, that was enough to send the pack racing out of the park. James bit back a laugh as he watched them go. If Remus had been there he would have surely disapproved.

"You ok kid?" James asked instead to the young boy on the ground.

The boy looked about 6 years old, dressed in old Muggle clothes that were too big for him with messy black hair.

"Y-Yes sir. Sorry," the boy said, trying to wipe away his tears with a grubby fist.

"Scourgify," James said, pointing his wand at the boy and in an instant he was clean.

"Thank you sir," the boy said, cautiously getting up. James could tell he was wary but his reaction to the Scourgify was almost nonexistent. Not a Muggle born then.

"Stop calling me sir," James said, trying to lighten the mood and putting his wand back into his jeans pocket, "It's James. James Potter."

"Oh. I'm Neville, sir. Neville Longbottom."

James didn't reprimand Neville for the suffix. He was too busy staring in shock at the little boy in front of him.

"Um, S-Sir?" Neville asked, fidgeting nervously after a lengthy pause.

"Longbottom?" James half whispered, "Alice and Frank Longbottom?"

Neville seemed to brighten a bit cheerily, the complete opposite reaction those names were having on James.

"Yeah. You know my parents Mr James, sir?"

"Know them? My best friend tortured them into insanity!"

James took a few steadying breaths before plastering what he hoped was a convincing smile.

"I went to school with them. We weren't in the same year but they were around," James said. It wasn't a lie but it certainly wasn't the full truth though.

"I'm sorry for what happened to them Neville," James insisted fiercely. By now Neville had wandered in closer range of the bench and James leaned over to gently grab the smaller boy by the arm and dragging him in closer. When Neville and he were eye to eye, James found a small, lost boy, confused from this stranger's admittance no doubt but lonely all the same.

"I really am sorry," James repeated to the confused boy. There was silence for a moment before Neville seemed to put all the pieces together and spoke again in a shaky voice.

"Did you know Sirius Black too, sir?"

"I- I," James stuttered for a bit himself before breaking eye contact with the boy.

"Yes," he finally decided and was not pleased in the slightest to find that no weight had been lifted at this admittance. "Yes, I knew Sirius Black. He was my best friend. I know it's hard to believe Neville. But he wasn't always...evil."

Neville shook his head in agreement to James's surprise.

"My grandma says no one is born evil. They just ended up taking the wrong path."

James barked out a humorless laugh.

"Your grandma is a smart lady," he said with a fake smile. Neville seemed to notice.

"It wasn't your fault Mr. James," the boy insisted, "Because well, if he was your best friend. Then you've lost someone too."

James simply stared at the little boy in front of him. So full of understanding and childlike innocence. It made no sense, no sense at all, to meet a boy like him at a time like this.

"And surely you must have other people who care about you as well," Neville continued, "Like my grandma. And my uncles. People you don't want to let down. People who want to- to stay strong for!"

And that little heart string that had been tugging at James since Alastor Moody first showed his ugly head, finally snapped and the next thing he knew, James was wrapping his arms around Neville Longbottom in a hug.

Neville hugged back too and James grinned.

"Thanks Neville," he said after a moment, withdrawing his arms.

The boy still looked mildly confused but grinned at James just the same.

"You're welcome Mr James."

"Come on," James said, getting up with new found confidence and offering Neville his hand. "I'll take you home. Maybe pick up some sweets on the way."

"Really?" Neville said, excited as he reached for James's hand.

"Sure kid. Mind introducing me to Trevor?"

Neville proudly held up the toad he'd been juggling with throughout their conversation and easily started up an excited story about Trevor's first disappearance act.

It was soothing, James realized. Peaceful and fulfilling. Definitely rewarding. Children were so full of life and joy. So innocent and curious in their nature. He could have lived this life he realized. Alice and Frank Longbottom could have lived this life as well. And surely Neville would have appreciated it all.

It was sunset by the time Neville led James to his house where his grandmother was waiting.

"Neville where have you been? Have you found Trevor yet?" Augusta Longbottom asked, ready to scold her grandson before she realized the boy was happily holding the hand of a stranger.

"Sorry," James said, Trevor securely tucked under his arm as Neville's hands were too busy with his bag of sweets. "I was supposed to walk him home but we got a little, um, side tracked."

Neville giggled and Mrs. Longbottom was silently shocked.

"My name's James Potter. I went to school with your son," James continued, slightly wrong footed, "There's a few things I'd like to, well, talk about with you Mrs Longbottom. If that's alright."

Augusta gave a small frown.

"Neville get inside and wash up for dinner," she instructed instead. Neville took Trevor back gently from James.

"Bye Mr James. It was fun meeting you."

"Yeah, same kid," James said, ruffling the boy's hair playfully.

And with a last grin and a wave, Neville ran past his still shocked grandmother into the house.

"My apologies," Mrs Longbottom eventually said as the front door closed behind her and she gestured to James to sit in one of the patio chairs with her. "Neville has never been so easy going with strangers before."

James shrugged, "He's a great kid."

"Yes," Mrs Longbottom said with a face that clearly said otherwise, "Unfortunately he doesn't quite take to his parent's magical talents."

James shrugged again, "I could teach him if you'd like. Before he goes off to Hogwarts."

Mrs Longbottom didn't look like she fully approved of a stranger teaching her son anything and James hurried to back up his words.

"I was the best in my year at Hogwarts," he said not too proudly, "Well one of the best," he amended, "But my friend's the other one. And I really would like to get to know your grandson more. He's a clever boy deep down. I'm sure with the right mentoring he can unlock his true potential."

Mrs Longbottom still didn't seem to be convinced, "You knew Frank and Alice," she said instead and James didn't hide the wince in time.

"Yeah. Merlin yeah," he said, sinking a bit in his chair and turning to look up at the appearing stars. The winter chill had started to settle with the loss of the sun and little puffs of breath were made visible as James breathed out.

"Sirius Black was my best friend," he admitted again with a breath, "And five years later, I'm still not sure where it all went wrong."

There was a heavy silence and James was just about ready to give up entirely and make a run for it before Augusta spoke.

"I've always told Neville it isn't wise to dwell on the past and now I say the same to you. Sirius Black's actions are not your fault Mr. Potter, you shouldn't feel the need to atone for them."

"I'm not trying to atone for them," Potter argued, "Or at least, not really. Neville, honest to Merlin, is a good kid. And, well, I'd like to be there for him in whatever way I can."

There was another length pause. Obviously Augusta Longbottom did not seem keen to allow a stranger into her grandson's life. But she was getting too old to take care of an energetic child on her own. And she admitted that it had been...nice. To see Neville happily coming up to the house with a friend in tow. So Augusta said the one thing she knew would benefit all parties:

"When would you like to start?"

James turned to face her with a puzzled expression.

"Neville's tutoring. He'll be going to Hogwarts in five years. I'd like him to know all necessary maths, reading and rudimentary spell theory before then," Mrs Longbottom instructed.

"Oh. Yeah," James stuttered, "Great. We can start um. Next year? After New Years Day," he insisted, "There's something I need to uh. Take care of right now."

"Oh? And you seemed so keen to teach."

James backpedalled slightly, "I still am. And I will be. But right now I'm on a job. I need to find something I lost. It's really important. More important than this right now I'm afraid. But it'll be over by New Years. For better or for worse I'm not sure but it'll be over."

Augusta Longbottom sighed.

"Very well Mr Potter. Perhaps I can help you with this search? What is it you've lost?"

"Uh. Well it doesn't really have a shape you see," James said, hastily dodging the question, "Sometimes it takes the form of a terrifying black dog. Sometimes it takes the form of a playful puppy. It's a man's salvation. A child's best friend. A woman's greatest nightmare. A creature's fiercest rival."

"Is it Dark?"

"A bit yeah. But it's got some good in it too."

Augusta Longbottom frowned in thought.

"Well. I'm not sure about any of that but if there's one place in all of Britain that would seem to hold an answer for you."

"Where's that?" James asked, leaning forwards quickly.

"The Shrieking Shack in the town of Hogsmeade."