Okay, this is my first attempt at writing the Marauders. I've been reading some Remus/Harry fics lately and decided I wanted to try it for myself. Let me know what you think!


16 June 1981

Remus Lupin entered the house of James and Lily Potter one night in late June to find an interesting and slightly alarming sight: Sirius Black sitting on the living room floor with a ten-month-old Harry sitting in his lap, having a (decidedly one-sided) conversation.

"Come on, Harry, it's not that hard. Sirius. Just three little syllables. SI-RI-US. Say it for me, kid, you're not stupid. Sirius. I know you can do it, Potter!"

"Sirius?" Remus asked concernedly, moving farther into the room to see James seated on the sofa and a rather amused-looking Peter Pettigrew lounging on the floor beside him. He heard the sound of water running in the kitchen sink and assumed that Lily was cleaning up from dinner.

Sirius looked at Harry exasperatedly. "If your idiot of an uncle can say it, why can't you? Come on, pup, just do it for me once!"

He scowled at Harry, who was scowling right back. They continued glaring at each other for several minutes before Harry did something seemingly inconsequential: raised one eyebrow at his godfather.

Remus knew that look, for Lily had patented it several years before. It was the "oh, really" look and it usually meant trouble for the unlucky person it was directed toward.

Sure enough, an enormous old book—A History of Magic, as Remus recognized it—went flying for Sirius's head from across the room. He ducked just in time; the book soared over his head, missing him by inches, and James caught it with the unerring skill of a former Seeker.

"Best not to push him, Sirius," Peter commented, taking the book from James and trotting across the room to replace it on its shelf. "Hello there, Remus."

Remus sat down in one of the armchairs across from the sofa. "What in the name of Merlin is Sirius doing?"

"He's of the opinion that my son is a super-genius," said Lily dryly from the kitchen doorway. "As such, he also thinks that Harry should be able to speak fluently in English, Latin, Mermish, and Troll before he's even a year old."

"I can speak Troll!" James cried, sitting bolt upright on the sofa. He assumed a completely idiotic expression on his face, pointed at the front door, and began to make incomprehensible grunting sounds, pausing occasionally to scratch his arse.

"Harry James Potter, your father is a git," Remus sighed, leaning forward and scooping the black-haired baby from Sirius's clutches. "How we lived with him for seven whole years, I will never know."

"Thanks, Remus, I love you too," James said sarcastically.

Harry giggled, his green eyes alight with happiness. He looked at Remus for several moments before opening his mouth. "Ray-moose."

The room went deadly silent. Everyone was staring at Harry with expressions ranging from shock to utter disbelief.

It was Sirius who finally spoke up. "Did he just say Remus?"

"Ray-moose," Harry said again.

"That's what it sounded like," said Lily, who was grinning at her son.

"Ray-moose! Raaay-moose!" He was shouting it this time.

Remus laughed, looking smugly at Sirius. "Sorry, Padfoot, but I guess he loves me more than you."

"In your dreams, Ray-moose," growled Sirius, ruining the angry effect by smiling at the little boy.

Harry would go on that week to expand his vocabulary significantly: Peetuh, Ma and Dah, Pafoo, Dumblore, Kidditch, and boo. For some strange reason, Harry's first word being "Ray-moose" made Remus very happy. It wasn't because he had gotten preferential treatment over Sirius or Peter or James and Lily; it was simply that in a world where most people despised him for what he was, he knew that there was one human being who loved and trusted him unquestioningly. And hopefully, one day, he'd be able to enunciate.