XI chapter

Success and suspicion

Even after the somewhat life changing letter he had written to Severus Snape - which had only contained the instructions and explanation of the Wolfsbane potion and the words "make it public" - Harry's and Tom's life continued as normal. Harry continued to study, returning to the matter of Fidelius despite the headache it caused him and Tom continued to be adorable, though nothing less could really be expected of him.

The momentary straying had paid off. Studying arithmancy and runes for a while had made him a bit more experienced in understanding the difficult spell. Fidelus didn't really require either but charting the secret with Arithmancy and fitting runes into the new spell work added it a flavour which Harry was now positive would lead to completing the spell once and for all.

Except of course he wasn't really completing the spell. The spell was already complete - not only in its original form but Harry also suspected that Dumbledore had already completed his own form. Harry had moved past both two forms already and the form of Fidelius he was working on was shaping up to be his own unique spell. He had made so many changes to the formula already that that and the original Fidelius were barely alike. Which was both embarrassingly awesome and frightening thought.

Though if the spell was his alone and no one else could understand it… then good. This way he could be absolutely positive that once the spell would actually work, no one would be able to break it. You had to know how the spell went to break it after all - not that Fidelius was breakable anyway but that was beside the point. Little bit of extra security wouldn't hurt here.

Harry was reshaping the wording of the spell when sound of a knock against the front door reached him. He glanced up from his dictionary but being in what he was certain was crucial point, he didn't feel like getting up and loosing the track of his calculations. "Hugh," he said instead, glancing at the ghost who had been playing with Tom - which usually meant making funny faces for the baby's amusement. "Could you check who's at the door?"

"Sure thing," the ghost answered rather happily, made last funny face at Tom much to the boy's delight, and then floated to the hall. Not much after he called back. "It's Mrs. Lovegood! Do I tell her to come in?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Harry answered distractedly, jotting down few notes to the parchment before reaching for his dictionary and leafing through the pages for right words. Biting the end of his quill he contemplated the differences between the words secluded, hidden and secreted. Though maybe enclosed was still the best one, its arithmancy value was more fitting for the spell… or maybe sheltered?

"Working, Harold?" Selene asked while walking into the sitting room, little Luna balanced against her hip and looking around curiously. "You workaholic."

"You're the one to speak," Harry glanced up with a faint smile. "Hello Selene. And hello to you too, Luna," he added before calling over his shoulder. "Merrit, could you make some tea for Selene? And get some light snacks for Luna."

"Thank you, Harold," the woman smiled while sitting down beside him and setting Luna to the floor. Though the little girl was giving curious looks to Tom who was lying on a blanket next to the tea table, she seemed too shy to step forward and instead half hid next to her mother's knees. "What are you working on?"

"The Fidelius, again," Harry sighed, running his hand through his long hair. "I'm trying to figure out new wording for the spell. Fully modern English one."

"Show me what you've came up with so far?" Selene said and accepted the paper Harry handed to her. She glanced over it and smiled faintly. "You're trying to integrate maybe a little bit too much numerology into this. You're loosing proper grammar."

"I am?" the young man asked worriedly and leaned in to look. He had been trying to work his new, though slightly limping, arithmancy skills into the spell to give it sturdier base. "Is it too much?"

"Well, it depends. I find using too many pre-thought forms with new spell work isn't necessarily a good thing. Magic is a wild, lively thing and usually it doesn't much care for forms," the woman chuckled, glancing up as Merrit came in, carrying a tray of tea and snacks. "Thank you, dear."

"Y-you're welcome, Mrs. Lovegood," the elf stuttered while Harry cleared enough space on the table for the tray. "Is… is there something else you would like?"

"No, this is fine. Thank you," Selene smiled while reaching to pour herself some of the tea. "Anyway, most spells are cut down to their very basic forms. Some centuries back spells were much longer and much more complicated than they are now, as people tried to add in everything they thought necessary into them. I think a common levitation charm was some eleven words long originally."

"Really?" Harry asked with surprise. He hadn't really studied spell history that much so he had no idea.

"Yeah. People tried to make their spells as specified as possible. Now we know that those long spells were actually poorer than the short spells we use," the woman nodded. "Because magic doesn't work only because of the words and because of wands, after all. It needs another component, and that is what we have here," she tapped her temple.

"Emotional component," Harry nodded. This he did understand.

"Well, that too, but there is more to it than that. Imagination and belief are very important in spell work," the woman chuckled. "Most of the spells we do work the way they do is because we believe that they will. And that belief is worked into our very minds right in our school where teacher shows us how this or that spell works. We automatically believe that it will work that way because we are told, taught and sometimes demonstrated that it does."

The young man blinked with surprise and then leaned back in thought. He hadn't considered that. Hell, he had never even heard of it. The simple spells they used worked so well for them because they believed that they would? That was rather… novel concept. "So, our schools and our teachers teach us more than wand movement and words, huh?" he murmured with awe.

Selene laughed. "Remind me to show you once the charts I once made about the effect magical schools had on our population and the skills wizard generally possess. It's rather awe striking," she said while handing Luna a bit of small pastry she had been eyeing curiously. "However knowing this puts us spell creators into difficult position. While creating spells, we usually lack that mental component of belief. We may have emotion and imagination but belief is hard to synthesize."

"Yeah that it is," Harry murmured and glanced at his son who was making somewhat anxious motions in the floor. "You've created your own spells, haven't you? How did you get them work?"

"Sometimes I just have epiphany about how the spell should go, but usually it happens accidentally," Selene said with a laugh. "Sometimes little bit of intoxication helps too. I created wonderful Herbology charm while I was drunk out of my mind once. I think it was during my graduation celebration party…"

Harry chuckled before getting up from the couch to pick Tom up. Then he sat down again, settling the boy comfortably to his lap and absently tugging the child's socks better to his tiny feet. "I'm not sure if trying new spells while you're drunk is all that safe," he murmured and shuddered. That sort of thing could go horribly wrong.

"It isn't, which is why I avoid doing it," the woman laughed and took sip of her tea. "I think you should throw this arithmancy thing out of the window for now. Arithmancy is good for warding and making magical items but in spell creation it's rarely of use."

"Well, to be fair, I'm not really creating anything. I'm just… trying to rework pre-invented spell," Harry answered with a shrug and looked down to Tom who was wiggling his feet enthusiastically. The he glanced at the woman. "By the way, was there any particular reason for your visit or are you just stopping by for tea?"

"Ah no, I have something to tell you," the woman's expression brightened as she scooped Luna up from the floor and held the girl close. Little Luna giggled softly as her mother nuzzled against her hair. "Luna is going to have a sibling in nine months!"

Harry's eyes widened for a moment before somewhat awkward smile spread to his face. "That's great," he said, not knowing what else to say. "Congratulations."

"Thank you! It never wouldn't have happened without your spell, too. With Materlactimenti I can have another child without worrying about his or her feeding," she smiled widely and smacked a wet kiss against Luna's cheek, making the girl squirm. "And my little Luna won't be alone anymore! Won't that be wonderful, sweetie? You're going to have little baby sister or baby brother!"

Another difference between the two worlds - this one caused by him. But it wasn't a bad sort of change to cause. Harry chuckled softly, wondering if little baby Lovegood would end up being as wonderfully weird as his or her family was. He rather hoped so. The Lovegoods were precious commodity and the world needed more of their sort. No, he definitely didn't mind this change.

And then Selene started to worry about future morning sickness and swollen legs and back pains and all the other problems of pregnancies, reminiscing how it had been to carry Luna and so forth. Harry sighed softly and tried to sympathise. It wasn't too easy since he had never really witnessed anyone's pregnancy that close, but he decide to memorise some of Selene's problems, just in case someone asked about the time when Harry's so called wife had been pregnant with Tom.

After Selene's visit, which mostly ended up being talk about children and ended when Luna started showing signs of hunger, Harry returned to working his modified Fidelius. Deciding to take his friend's advice, he stacked the arithmancy books - as well as the dictionaries he had used - aside and then turned to the spell without any aid and went with the flow, more or less.

"Spell creation seems to be difficult business," Hugh mused while entertaining himself by annoying Nightmare. He was grapping her tail, which of course did nothing as he was a ghost, but it managed to irritate the cat who was trying to pretend to be sleeping.

"That it is," Harry murmured with a chuckle, letting Tom play with his left hand while writing notes with his right one. The spell he had now come up with seemed somewhat… loopy. It had little of the structure of the original even less of the strict form of arithmancy Harry had been using. It looked poor and amateurish in comparison to the previous versions.

"Mental component, belief…" Harry murmured and frowned. How did one manufacture belief? Confidence probably had something to do with it too. And Selene had spoken about epiphanies, so inspiration and intuition were probably also ways to succeeding with spells. If only he had some Felix Felicis, the spell would've probably worked instantly… but of course that was the one thing he has forgotten to wish for in the train.

Harry blinked slowly. There was no way in any world he'd be able to either brew Felix Felicis, nor did he belief himself to be so lucky as to get his hands on a dose. But though Felix Felicis would probably give him instant success, it was not the only thing that gave luck, confidence, intuition and all that. There were other potions and some spells, which affected the subject's mental state in one way or another. Some depressed the subject, like Dementor's effect. Others gave fake emotions, like love potions…

"Cheering charms?" Harry murmured thoughtfully and stood up, steadying his son against his shoulder. As he headed upstairs to see if he had a book with cheering charms on them, he tried to remember how they worked. As far as he could remember, they intensified positive emotions and optimism… it could work.

When he found out that wizard named Felix Summerbee had invented cheering charms, he decided that it was sign from some ethereal deity of luck and decided to give it a go. Figuring that being in such close proximity of someone under the influence of cheering charms maybe wasn't too safe, Harry took Tom, who seemed tired anyway, to his crib and asked Merrit to look after him. Then, not bothering to check if a people could cast cheering charms on themselves, Harry lifted his wand and pointed it at himself.

When he came to he was lying on the couch with pounding headache, with worried Merrit looking down on him and Hugh was laughing like maniac into a wall. It didn't take more than few seconds of agonised pulsing of his head and the way the world turned around him for him to figure out that maybe the idea hadn't been a good one.

"M-master?" his house-elf asked worriedly. "A-are you okay? Do you still want to paint the sitting room yellow?"

"Paint the… what?" Harry frowned and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Oh bloody hell, my head…" he groaned while Merrit fiddled with the hem of her toga-pillowcase and Hugh tried to smother giggles very poorly. "Merrit, never use cheering charms on yourself. And make sure I won't do it either."

"No, no, you got to do that again, Mr. Newman, it was hilarious!" Hugh choked out between chortles. "Three hours of pure awesomeness. I haven't laughed this much in years!"

"I'm glad I managed to offer you some amusement," Harry growled, trying to sit up but then quickly deciding that it was a very bad idea. Trying to swallow down bitter taste of bile, he blinked blearily at the ceiling. Oh Merlin, he hadn't vomited, had he? "How on earth does this feel worse than hangover?" he asked confusedly. "It was just a bloody cheering charm."

"Y-you've had two doses of Wit Sharpening potion today, master," Merrit said softly. "M-Merrit checked the book, it said that the potion might e-escalate effects of e-emotional magic…"

Harry groaned, hiding his eyes behind his hands. It was just his luck. He had managed to accidentally drug himself with mixture of Wit Sharpening potions and cheering charms - and he didn't even know if it had worth it. "Tell me what I did? In least humiliating way you can possibly manage, I implore you," he moaned.

"Well, at first you spend about ten minutes going over what a wonderful library you had," Hugh snickered. "Going over the books and the walls and bookcases - and for a moment there I honestly thought you were in love with your work desk… then you went to the hall and went on about what awesome carpet you had - I think you tried to get its autograph for a moment…"

Harry groaned while Hugh continued on about how Harry had marvelled every thing he encountered. He turned his eyes to Merrit imploringly. "Is Tom ok?" he asked.

"Y-yes master, he's still sleeping in his crib," the elf nodded quickly. "Y-you never went to his room."

"Oh, thank gods," Harry sighed. "Did I break anything, or do any damage?"

"No, sir."

"… then Aderyn flew in, and boy was she stunned! I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't return for a week or two - you tried to give her a kiss, I think. I'm not sure; I was too busy laughing… Nightmare seemed to figure out that was the time to take off too; she might stay out for day or two too…"

Harry sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands again. Never ever, ever would he try that again. It was no use asking if he had actually done what he had planned to do. Apparently he had been too high to do anything relatively intelligent. He could only thank the stars that there hadn't been actual humans near by to see - excluding Hugh of course.

"You think I could take a headache potion?" Harry asked from Merrit hopefully.

"Me-Merrit doesn't think that would be a wise idea, master," the elf winced slightly. Harry sighed morosely.

"… don't know what you were doing at entrance the hall, though," Hugh continued with snicker. "You just kept waving your wand at the wall just under the staircase. You were doing that for half an hour I think. Didn't manage to actually do anything though… then I think you tried to give arithmancy values to the stairs…"

Harry looked up to him. "I did something… under the stairs in the hall?" he asked slowly. That was where door and the stairs to the basement were.

"Yeah. Kept waving your wand long while mumbling. I think you were trying to cast a spell, but it didn't seem to do anything as far as I could tell," Hugh snorted. "No offence Mr. Newman, but it was hilarious."

"I think you've gone way past the point where you can say no offence," Harry snorted and struggled to sit even though it seemed to make the world spin around him. "What about the basement?" he asked then. "Did I do anything in the basement?"

"What basement?" Hugh asked confusedly.

Harry blinked slowly. "The basement… under this house?" he asked hesitatingly. "You know, my laboratory, study place, library?"

Merrit and Hugh both looked at him with confusion, glancing at each other before looking at him now very worriedly. "Master, t-this house doesn't have a basement," Merrit then said slowly. "A-are you feeling alright, master Harold, sir?"

Harry didn't answer, bolting up from the couch, almost crashing into the tea table, before stumbling out of the sitting room and into the hall. The door under the stairs was still there, and when he wrenched it open it showed the stairs leading down to the basement.

Turning to look over his shoulder to the house elf and the ghost who had followed him. "You can't see it?" he asked slowly, the excitement he felt making his nausea even worse.

"See what?" Hugh asked, looking between the door handle Harry was holding and Harry himself like the young man had gone insane. "Maybe you should lay down, Mr. Newman. You don't… seem to be feeling very well."

Harry didn't answer. "The workroom of Harold Newman and basement of Waldgrave cottage can be found underneath the stairs to the second floor," he said and grinned widely when sudden apprehension dawned onto the faces of Merrit and Hugh who both then stared at the basement with wonder.

"You did it!" Hugh then gasped while Merrit clasped her hands over her mouth with surprise. Apparently with revelation that the basement existed they also remembered that it had existed previously too.

"I did! Now I just need to figure out how!" Harry grinned back.

x

It was like weight had lifted from his shoulder - and it had nothing to do with the passing of the weird magic hangover he had managed to get. The knowledge that the books with their dangerous information, his memories of future that would never happen in this world, the Peverell Ring, the Invisibility Cloak and now also the Elder Wand were all secure… it was relieving. It was like his life was suddenly several times more secure than it had been since he had entered his new world.

It almost felt like he was allowed to be… a normal wizard now. With everything about his and Tom's true origins hidden away underneath the Fidelius, he was allowed to leave Harry James Potter, Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Boy Who Lived and the Dark Lord Voldemort behind him. He was finally and without any restraints allowed to become Harold Newman, the single parent of Thomas Newman.

He hadn't even noticed how he had been holding himself back from that. Even though he had made conscious decision to embrace Harold Newman onboard the Reality Express, he hadn't really done it. Even if he had been, to the outside world, what he had told he was, he had remained Harry Potter on the inside. And though he knew he couldn't exactly forget eighteen years of his life… it was no longer the current him. It was the past. Harry James Potter had cast the Fidelius on himself.

And though Harold did feel the need to figure out exactly how he had cast the Fidelius and whether he could duplicate the effect not, he decided to leave it till later. His life had changed in blur of magical high and hangover and now it was time to celebrate.

"I think I promised Albert to stop by with you, my little prince," Harold murmured to Tom, who had woken from his afternoon nap. "Stopping by there will be perfect way to celebrate this success, don't you think? Yes it would be. Daddy can have a pint of butterbeer, you can have a bottle of warm milk…"

Hugh and Merrit didn't seem entirely sure if it was quite safe to let him leave the house yet, so Harold and Tom didn't have their celebration that day. Instead Harold spent the rest of the day playing with Tom and once the boy's bedtime, he reorganised the basement and hid all his notes on the Fidelius there.

He decided that the word of his success considering the spell wouldn't travel away from the house. No one but he, Hugh and Merrit would know. He wouldn't let anyone else know and if they would show curiosity he would say that he had given up the task of the Fidelius as impossible feat and would maybe return to it in later years. It would offer some added security - best way to hide a secret was to make people believe that there was none.

"With the Fidelius figured out, somewhat anyway… I can move onto other things too," Harold murmured while eying his hidden library. He had read most of them but he hadn't internalised even tenth of them. There were several spells in his library he wanted to master. Also he still had Latin, Gaelic, Greek and runes to learn.

And once he had, would begin his career as spell inventor. Thankfully with some gold left he had no need to start working in earnest for a while yet, so he could spend some months studying before publishing anything. In that time he would need to both build up the knowledge for his future occupation, and the reputation of at least potential spell creator.

Then he would start picking out the spells in his library which were safe to publish and he would… maybe write a book. Or copyright "his" spells at least. The idea of posing as their inventor still didn't please him much but maybe… eventually… he would actually create his own spells.

"Though first and foremost… maybe I should study this," Harold mused with a grimace while holding up the copy of The Shields and Swords of the Mind. Even a Fidelius was only as strong as its Secret Keeper and he knew better than anyone else how exposed his mind was. With a sigh he tucked the book under his arm and searched out the rest of his mental magic books.

Though he had studied some of it, mind magic remained art not entirely clear to him. Out of the books he had wished into existence, Occlumency and Legilimency were named only in two. In other books they the art was simply called either mental magic or telepathy or some other name used in the world from where the book was from. One of the books called it telepathy and in other it was called Mind Sharing and Mind Linking. And between the different worlds and their different books, the art of mental magic seemed differ.

Harold spent the rest of his evening reading through the books, though he had read some of them already a few times before his meeting with Dumbledore and Lily. He ended up finding that despite the variety he had to work with, Occlumency seemed to be the best method of protecting one's mind. The others were interesting in their own right, but… they were different arts altogether.

Though the book about Mind Sharing seemed to be the most sophisticated one of the lot, it had nothing on the ways of protecting your mind. Coming from world full of people with the talent, Mind Sharing seemed to be rather neutral talent, like speaking and writing, with no offensive and defensive forms. Telepathy on other hand was almost entirely offensive as far as Harold could tell. It was almost entirely about listening to minds of other people, occasionally sending thoughts back and forth.

Occlumency was in a way very special magical art. It was really more of a mental discipline and practice than actual magic at all, Harold found as he delved deeper into it. The other of his two Occlumency friendly books, The Secrets of Mind's Magic explained some of Occlumency's history and it seemed that it had existed long before Legilimency. Occlumency, back when it had had another name and another meaning, had been rather like… magical meditation before Legilimency. The state of empty, balanced mind that Snape had tried and failed to teach to Harry, had been the original goal of Occlumency.

"When there are no thoughts, emotions and physical imbalances to hinder and disturb the magic, it is peaceful and serene," the book wrote. "This peaceful, harmonious state of magic used to be the goal of Occlumency, not as a defence, but as spiritual and magical completion. It was believed that magician could not understand magic before it was completely in harmony inside him…"

Then Legilimency had come along. New branches and ways of using Occlumency had been added, it had been given whole new definition and it had gone from spiritual accomplishment into mental shield… but still the goal had remained same. Empty, undisturbed mind with no thoughts, no memories… and no emotions.

The more Harold read about it, the more he wanted to achieve it. But the memory of Snape's lessons and the knowledge his own mind made him doubt his ability to achieve it. Still he decided to try. Not just because it seemed like very interesting thing to achieve, but because it would also be the only way to completely protect his Secret.

Accomplished Occumens could even close the truth away from things such as Veritaserum, which was why the potion couldn't be used in legal proceedings. If Harold would learn the truest version of Occlumency… he could hide his secrets from just about anyone. That sounded quite appealing to him.

Especially since his evening studies were interrupted by a letter from Dumbledore, tentatively requesting private meeting concerting Fidelius.

"Fidelius my ass," Harold snorted with amusement, re-reading the letter. In the elegantly written words, Dumbledore wasn't even trying to hide the fact that the Fidelius was excuse. It was the Peverell Ring he wanted to talk about. "Sorry, Headmaster, but I do not think that can be arranged. You're few hours too late, unfortunately."

He sent back a polite refusal, telling the man that he had given up on Fidelius and that he was going to pursue other interests from now on. He was rather certain it wouldn't be enough for the man, that Dumbledore would no doubt try and find another way to get closer to his old goal. One couldn't say that Albus Dumbledore was a quitter after all. But for now it would have to be enough.

After that Harold would try to figure some sort of way of getting Dumbledore off his back, if it was necessary.

x

Harold managed to stay around only for one day before Harry returned. Like he had planned after recovering from his Fidelius ordeal, Harry decided to take Tom Leaky Cauldron to have somewhat nice meal and some butter beer in celebration. And there, just upon entering the Leaky after bumpy ride on the Knight Bus, he saw something that made the security of Harold vanish into thin air and all the teenage emotions of Harry returned with a vengeance.

James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin having a cheerful chatter over dinner with one Peter Pettigrew, who was happily waving a pint at something Sirius had said.

With a flash of multicolour Harry was there and he remembered. Remembered Shrieking Shack and the prisoner of Azkaban falsely charged for someone else's crimes. He remembered the revelation of the true traitor and the cowardly begging of the mousey man who had hidden as a rat for twelve years. He remembered the rat's escape and how Harry and his godfather had almost ended up with their souls being eaten by Dementors - how the said godfather was almost Kissed by a Dementor later that very same horrible night…

He remembered. The rat-like man had sought out his master, found out about Barty Crouch Junior under the imperious of the Senior and how together they had machinated Voldemort's return. He remembered Cedric's death - for being the real champion, for being there, for being the spare. He remembered Voldemort's return. And he most definitely remembered the war that had followed and the deaths that had ensued. All thanks to the rat.

He remembered his parents. Dead because of the man's betrayal.

Harry's free hand, the one which wasn't supporting Tom in his sling, sought out for his wand before freezing in mid motion. The haze of past rage passed for a moment and, instead of seeing cowardly traitor, he saw a healthy, slightly over weight young man. And he saw James Potter and Sirius Black sitting beside him, laughing, healthy, young… and alive. Blinking as if coming out from a nightmare, Harry breathed in slowly and remembered something else.

He was living the past that had never happened.

Shaking his head Harry turned his eyes away quickly and breathed in. Tom whined in his sling, making Harry turn his eyes down. Confused child eyes, not yet understanding but still sensing his distress, looked up to him. Harry tensed and relaxed again, for a moment just facing the life he had embraced - the life he was supposed to be embracing. Then, pushing away his teenage mind and all its bitterness, he walked further into the bar and then to the counter, each step stiff and forced.

Things were different here. Sirius Black had been the Secret Keeper. Peter Pettigrew had never been able to betray the Potters. They had lived and in result Neville Longbottom was the Boy Who Lived… Peter Pettigrew might've betrayed them for all Harry knew… but not the Potters. Not Harry's parents.

"Harold!" warm voice greeted him as he sat down. It was Albert who was stepping forward with a warm smile. "And little Thomas. I was hoping to see you two some time soon."

"Hello Albert," Harry forced a smile and tried to relax despite the sound of laughter he could hear coming from behind him. "Nice to see you're doing well," he added, glancing at the bar. "Leaky as well. Busy day?"

"Friday," the innkeeper laughed. "Always very busy. Can I get you anything? Something for the little guy maybe?"

"Yes, I'd like something to eat - and warm pint of butterbeer would be wonderful," Harry said. "And maybe some milk for Tom. Or do you have any proper milk for a baby here?"

"I have some muggle supplements," Albert nodded. "I'll be right back. Find yourself a seat, why don't you?"

Harry nodded and sat up again, glancing around in the bar. It really was full, most of the tables taken, except for the one right in the middle of the room. Right beside the table of the marauders. Harry smothered the urge of swallowing in order to ease his dry throat. Just his luck

"… and he had no idea," Sirius was telling as Harry sat down, telling some sort of funny story judging by James's and Peter's laugh. "He just kept on branching around like the utter git he is, completely unaware! And the best thing is - no one told him!"

Harry shuddered slightly as the table exploded in laughter, looking down to Tom. Thankfully the boy didn't seem startled by the loud noises, and was just looking around curiously and kicking slightly in the sling. Harry wasn't as happy-go-lucky though. Peter Pettigrew was just in his field of vision, sitting next to Remus and across Sirius. It was… some sort of torture for Harry. His dead father, dead godfather, dead professor and the dead betrayer, all sitting in the table next to him, having a good time.

"Oh, Mr. Newman!" Sirius noticed Harry. The man lifted his goblet at Harry's direction. "To non-dark and -ugly pureblood things, right?"

Harry glanced at the man and snorted. "I'm surprised you remember. You were rather drunk, Mr. Black," he said, avoiding looking at Peter's direction as he nodded at James's and Lupin's direction. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Lupin."

"Mr. Newman," they nodded before James narrowed his eyes at Harry's directions. "I've been noticing you having many dealings with my wife, Mr. Newman," he pointed out almost threateningly. "Anything I should be worried about, I wonder?"

"Two business meetings, Mr. Potter, nothing more. The second time we even had Mr. Dumbledore as a chaperone, so I think the integrity of the meeting was assured," Harry assured amusedly. He was both happy and sad that with his success with the Fidelius, those wouldn't be continuing. "And I assure I have no intention of making any moves towards your wife."

The man blinked before frowning. "What? Why not? What's wrong with my wife?" he asked much to the amusement of Lupin who snorted into his pint.

"Well… she's your wife for one," Harry snorted shaking his head. "You seem to be in good spirits, gentlemen. What's the occasion?"

"Third weekend of September, the anniversary of our epic friendship!" Sirius announced, lifting his goblet. "This day, ten years ago -"

"Eleven," Lupin intercepted happily.

"- don't make the number any larger than it already is, Remus," Sirius harrumphed mockingly, before continuing. "This day, ten years ago, we saved Peter from being bullied by some Slytherins… I think they had hung him from chandelier in the corridor…"

"Nice of you to remind me, Sirius," the aforementioned man muttered with a grim smile.

"And we," Sirius continued as if he hadn't heard anything, "we being me, Remus and James, being the utmost heroes we are, of course let poor Peter down. And the next day we schemed our very first prank together to pay back in kind to the Slytherins who bullied our little Petey. It was epic."

"To epic pranks," James lifted his pint to hit it against Sirius's goblet.

"And to hanging from chandeliers," Remus joined in with a snort of amusement.

"And to you three prats, who never let a bloke forget his embarrassing moments," Pettigrew joined and together they toasted merrily.

Harry felt sick to his stomach watching it and listening how the four reminisced their early Hogwarts years. He was glad that Albert arrived then, bringing his order and successfully giving Harry excuse to ignore the four, as hard as it was.

He still couldn't help but wonder. Was Pettigrew a Death Eater in this reality? With Sirius as the Secret Keeper and in Azkaban, Peter couldn't betray anyone, Sirius hadn't needed to hunt him down, and no one had been framed for crime that had never happened. Peter hadn't committed the atrocities here that he as guilty of in Harry's home reality… but maybe there was something else. Was it because of him that the Longbottoms had suffered the horrible fate they had?

Tom let out a sound in the sling and to calm him down Harry offered him the bottle Albert had delivered. Leaning back in his chair Harry frowned slightly. Was it any of his business whether Pettigrew was Death Eater or not? He hadn't been there when the war had happened, these people weren't his people - and whatever crimes that had been committed and been left uncommitted… they had nothing to do with him, did they?

Harry had little ties to this world or its wars, no matter what he and Tom were. He wasn't in the Order of Phoenix and though he did find Voldemort's deeds in this world horrible… they were living times of peace now. Voldemort was gone - maybe not indefinitely, but he was still gone for now. And without him Peter the Death Eater was nothing. And even if Pettigrew was a Death Eater, what could Harry do? Tell people about it? Who would believe young single parent like him, a guy with no background?

Still, it bothered him to no end.

"… any work?" James was asking in the other table when Harry lowered the bottle and tucked into his own meal. "You were looking for some the last time we talked, right?"

"Ah, yeah. I didn't find any. But I'm not in hurry," Sirius answered. "I still have enough money left to last me a while after all. I'll see if I can find something to do, once it'll start looking like I can't manage anymore."

Harry glanced up. Sirius was unemployed? Harry had had the impression that Sirius was an Auror. James was one… but of course, who had ever said that they had the same occupation? When Harry thought about it, he had never heard Sirius, neither the elder nor the younger one, saying anything about what he did for living.

"It shouldn't be too hard, in the end," Sirius continued, draining last of his drink and placing the goblet down beside his empty plate. "I'm pretty smart, got good marks in my NEWT's and I'm bloody pureblood to boot!" he snorted. "Piece of cake."

"How about you Remus? You were working as an assistant somewhere, right?" Pettigrew asked while piling up his polished plates and pushing them aside.

"Yeah, in a wizarding bookstore in Birmingham, small place but with enough customers," the other man nodded with somewhat resigned smile and shrugged his shoulders. "It didn't take long before they fired me, of course."

The words were followed by split moment of awkward silence before James leaned back and ordered them a tankard of butterbeer. Harry, trying not to be obvious about it, glanced at the group. There was something there. Some hint of… bitterness?

Because of Lupin's Lycanthropy?

"Stupid anti-werewolf mentality," James muttered under his breath making Harry's eyes widen a fraction. Neither of the marauders noticed as James leaned back and folded his arms. "People are stupid ignorant idiots who can't read a moon charts to save their lives!"

"Hear hear!" Sirius and Peter agreed but Remus only smiled wryly.

Harry swallowed. They were taking about it like there… was no reason to hide it. Remus's affliction was public knowledge? In Harry's world it had taken Snape with his childhood grudge and bitterness and the missed chance of First Order of Merlin, to publicly announce Lupin's cursed state… What in Merlin's name had happened here?

As the marauders moved onto happier subjects, Harry spend a moment of worrying over Remus before letting it go. This Remus Lupin wasn't the Remus Lupin who had taught Harry Patronus and who had almost left his family for sake of the Horcrux quest - and who had ultimately died at Hogwarts. This was different Remus Lupin who had very little to do with Harry.

Harry could only hope now that Snape would get a move on and publish the Wolfsbane potion soon. Maybe it would help Remus's situation some.

Sighing softly, the young man turned his eyes downward and to his son who was dosing off in the sling despite the noise. He wished he could go back to being Harold Newman. It had been blissful for as long as it had lasted.

xx

My apologies for possible grammar errors. If you pick any, you can point them out to me and I will happily correct them. And the usual warning for future slash, though it won't come into play until after some chapters and I doubt it will ever be explicit. (I'm going to put this to the end of every single chapter so no one can't whine that the weren't warned.)