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Chapter Text

Petunia saw the signs first.

She already knew that her nephew was abnormal just like her sister; The witch in the family.

They had sworn, she and Vernon, that they wouldn’t let Harry grow up to be anything like his parents. They would house him and cloth him and make sure he knew his place and never believe in anything else. That he always knew was no good for anything but to help make their life easier for taking such a burden onto themselves by raising him and to live a normal, ordinary existence. They did everything they could to stomp out any unnaturalness at the first signs of it, rip the weed out by the root so to say before it grew too big and wild.

She and Vernon never spoke of it, never acknowledged out loud what it was when it started to happen. They would never say the word. To say the word was to accept it. They had banned that word from their lives a long time ago.

So instead of explaining what Harry did wrong, they just called him a freak and punished him severely whenever something abnormal occurred around the boy. If it was questioned how it happened they would come up with some reasonable theory of how he could have done it.

The strange things that would happen to or around Harry were bad enough but then Petunia started noticing her nephew was even more peculiar, in another way. A way that was almost more unsettling.

First, it was Harry’s hair. The boy had his father’s horrible, curly hair that went out in every direction it seemed. It was a horrible eyesore. Petunia and Vernon both hated the look of it, but they would never spend their money on the boy and take him to a barber. Instead, she took it upon herself to cut his hair in the kitchen and have him clean up the mess for her after.  But even from his first haircut at three-years-old, no matter how short she cut it, Harry’s hair always grew back out right away again.

But Petunia was persistent and continued to try and cut the boys' hair every few months to keep it trimmed. Harry noticed his hair was not very much shorter than what it had been before and asked after why she bothered to cut it at all. She smacked the back of his head for his insolence, knowing very well his hair always grew back out.

She could manage his hair, but then she caught him putting a ribbon in it one Christmas when he was five. He must have saved it off of one of Dudley’s Christmas wrappings. She had snatched it out of his hair right away, pulling some strands from his scalp along with it and tossed it in the fire. She shaved his head to the scalp that evening and watched as it just grew right back out. And this time, as if out of spite, it grew even longer than it had been before, reaching just above his shoulders.

Petunia had no choice put to let Harry tie it back. More than once, Petunia had passed the boys cupboard and caught him humming as she worked the knots from his hair with a comb that was missing most of its teeth. He had looked positively feminine one day with the most serene look on his face and Petunia snatched the comb from him before Vernon or Dudley caught him.

Vernon would give him the beating of his life if he saw Harry acting like such a poof. She had just had the hall carpet cleaned and she would not have the boy bleeding all over it.

Vernon had complained already about Harry’s hair making the boy look like a nancy and demanded she cut it again. She had to explain in private that she had tried to cut it only for it to grow out again and was worried if she kept trying it would only grow out longer. They could do nothing else about it. The best they could do was try to think of ways not to let it draw too much attention to Harry.

So they gave him a ball cap to wear when he went out, making him tuck the length of his hair into it when he went out.

But Harry’s hair was only the start.

Petunia began to notice the boy’s eyes going to the dresses on display in the shop windows whenever she had to take him out with her to do errands because Mrs. Figgs couldn’t watch him. She frowned at the way Harry’s eyes stayed glued to the floral patterns of the fabric and swishy skirts. He was just a little boy, he wouldn’t even have it in his mind to be curious about a woman's figure to be drawn to the curves of the mannequin. Her stomach churned at the possibilities of why he was so interested in staring at the displays.

She had smacked him upside the head and dragged him away from the window by his ears the first time she realized what it could mean. That maybe he was a far or something worse. That he was even more abnormal than they already knew him to be.

Petunia started taking in Dudley’s old clothes that they had already given to Harry. The clothes were so big on him the shirts and jumpers were practically like dresses on him and Petunia hoped that perhaps the boy was just confused by the similar length of his too-big shirts with woman’s dresses.

Fixing his clothes only made things worse. Harry had asked if she would teach him to sew, so he could fix her clothes and maybe the rest of the families so she wouldn’t have to do it. Harry never offered to do more than he was told, that was odd already, but the way his eyes gleamed at the needle and thread frightened Petunia with the implications of his interest. She had slapped the six-year-old hard across the face. Telling him to never think of doing women's work. Cooking and doing other housework were chores, they were different, but this was a life's work and he was a boy. She called him a freak and shut him in his cupboard for the next two days without food.

Harry seemed to be better some when she let him out. He kept his eyes down at home and never looked too long over at her when she started to knit or sew something. He stuck to cooking and working in the backyard where people couldn’t see him, getting his hands dirty as a boy his age should. Seeing him pull out weeds made Petunia think.

Perhaps it was because they kept him in the cupboard too much he was so reluctant to go outside, to climb trees or roll around in the grass like the other boys his age? Maybe they had kept him cooped up too much and neglected to give him the proper talks that he was confused. She tried a softer approach, she took one of her magazines and pointed out the differences between men and women, what was expected of each gender and started to encourage him to go out more, explore away from the house where the neighbors couldn’t see him of course. She wouldn’t have them gossiping about him as a reflection of her family.

Petunia could already imagine the type of things they might say and her cheeks flushed with mortification. She made sure Harry’s hair was tucked up into his cap when he left the house and told him he better come back with some dirt on his knees.

He always did, just like he was told.

Weeks later, Vernon had been passing through the hall and smelled flowers. He looked in the parlor and the kitchen only to find none. So where was the smell coming from? They hadn’t had flowers in the house for months, since Petunia’s birthday. He finally realized where the smell was coming from after a bit of sniffing around like a hound.

Harry had been sneaking back flowers and putting them in some cola bottles that he had taken from the recycling and keeping them in the cupboard. They were dozens of bottles with long-stemmed flowers and small broken cups with shorter wildflowers too. He had gotten his knees and hands dirty not from playing in the grass, wrestling over a ball or falling during a run but from picking flowers.

Vernon had given the boy a black eye and bruised ribs for it. But only after he had tossed all the flowers out in the trash, right in front of the boy. Vernon shouted at him that he would not keep a freak and a poof in his house. If the boy didn’t start acting like a man soon he would be out on the streets in London, on the doorsteps of some godforsaken orphanage that could barely feed him.

Vernon told Dudley to start taking Harry out with him to play with his friends, to show him how a proper lad acted and not to be afraid to rough his cousin up a bit if he started acting fruity with him.

Harry always came back with bruises, sometimes a cut lip. Nothing that Vernon and Petunia couldn’t put on boys being boys if anyone asked after the injuries.

The worst came later, after Harry’s sixth birthday.

Harry had snuck into his aunt and uncle's bedroom while he had thought they were too busy downstairs to notice. He put on one of Petunia’s dresses, stepped into the pretty silver pumps Vernon had gotten her for their anniversary last year when he took her to the theater and even applied the woman's favorite pink Chanel lipstick to his mouth.

Vernon had caught the boy and dragged him out of the room. He didn’t shout, that was the most fearsome thing. He was quiet in his anger.

Petunia had watched from her perch on the stairs as her husband took off his belt and used it on the boys back from shoulder to arse until red stains bled through her dress. Vernon had been so furious, so eager to punish and stomp out this flame that he hadn’t taken it off the boy though her shoes were discarded through the hall, having slipped off of his feet while he was dragged out of the room. Her lipstick stained the wallpaper from where Vernon had held the boy's face to the wall as he gave him his lashings.

After when the boy had dropped to his knee’s trembling and shaking, tears and snot running down his face, Vernon proceeded to kick him in the sides and chest. Once satisfied, he threw the boy down the stairs past Petunia. He followed after and ripped off the dress before he lifted Harry and threw him in the cupboard.

Harry stayed in the cupboard for near a month, being brought small meals and glasses of water to just keep him alive. He was only allowed out to go use the basement toilet and when he started to smell he was allowed to bath down there as well.

The hot water wasn’t turned on in the basement and it came out frigid. While he washed Petunia would wash the stink from his clothes in the sink and hang them to dry. She gave them back to him most of the time damp, the child unable to withstand the freezing bath for too long so he would come up wrapped in a dirty towel to clothes that weren’t completely dry.

Harry had just turned seven when he snapped, so to say. It was an ordinary average evening when Harry went whirling around on his uncle after Vernon ordered him to do something, calling him ‘boy’ like he always did. They never used his name.

Petunia would never know why that one time was different from all the rest. Why it had set her nephew off. He should have just kept quiet, acted like he was supposed to, do what he was told like a good boy. But he had to be difficult, he always had to make things harder on himself.

“I’m not a boy, I’m not a boy. I’m a girl. A girl !” Harry had shouted as loud as he could, tears streaming down his face. “And I want to be called Amanda, not Harry. ”

Vernon didn’t shout back, he didn't stand right away either to beat him right like Petunia thought he would. He just sat at the table, paper crumpling in his fists as his face turned redder and redder with each second. Dudley gaped between them and started to snicker and taunt that Harry was really going to get it this time. Calling him a poof and other derogatory names he learned from his father and friends.

“I warned you, boy, ” Vernon had said evenly, face still red, veins protruding from his fat neck and forehead. He rose slowly from his chair and Harry had tried to run for his cupboard but it did him no good. He wasn’t safe there.

“I told him, Petunia, I warned him what would happen,” Vernon told her as he made his way to the cupboard. Each step thunder, the floor creaking. “I won’t have one in my house. I won’t.”

Petunia just nodded at her husband as she put her arms over Dudley’s shoulders as she held him back against her, the two just watching.

She patted the top of Dudley’s head. He was a good boy, she was so proud of him. They had raised him properly and he was just right, a strapping lad who acted as he was meant to act and thought how he was supposed to think. She didn’t know where they had gone wrong with Harry, but they did all they could for him. So she told herself to justify what came next and why she couldn’t interfere.

He had made his bed and now he must lie in it.

Vernon had wrenched the door open, beat Harry to an inch of his life before he calmly went over to the door and put on his coat and hat. He was taking the boy away. This was the last time Petunia would see her nephew.

“Petunia, make sure none of the neighbors are out will you?” he asked her as he looked down at Harry wheezing on the floor.

She sprinted through the hall and straightened her back as she got to the door. She walked outside and made it look as if she were just checking on her flowers while there was still some light out before coming back in and reporting to Vernon that no one was out and the neighbor's blinds were drawn closed for the day.

Vernon seemed pleased and went back to Harry. He lifted the boy up and took him out of the house to the car, putting Harry in the backseat. He didn’t come back to the door to tell her where he was taking the boy. He just quietly opened the driver's door and got behind the wheel. He didn’t roll down his window to tell her when he would be back either, probably because he didn't want the neighbors to hear them and peek out to see what was going on. He started the car and pulled out of their driveway. Soon the car was halfway down the road.

“I’m sorry, Lily. I did what I could for him.” Petunia whispered to the wind and shook her head. With the apology she lifted her chin high, feeling as if she had done nothing wrong as she went back inside.

That was the last time she saw her nephew.

Vernon didn’t come back until eight hours later, strolling in with some milk and eggs as if he had only gone running an errand to the shops for her.

Vernon didn’t answer Dudley when he asked where Harry went. The only thing he did say was that their home would be stained no long by Harry Potter and that he wouldn’t be coming back ever again.

When Mrs. Figgs asked what had happened to Harry after not seeing him for months, Petunia and Vernon put on a sad act and told her that the boy had been ill in the mind. It wasn’t safe for them or the child to keep him at home. They took him to a good hospital to get proper help.

The old woman had looked panicked and rushed back to her house. Petunia just put it off that she possibly had grown attached to the boy. Birds of a feather and all.

They never spoke of Harry Potter again and all was well and normal at Number 4 Privet Drive. As it should be.

Chapter Text

     Amanda had been going in and out of consciousness during the ride, groaning in pain and struggling to breathe. High up in her abdomen, on the left, was where the worst of the pain was centered. Her head hurt and she kept forgetting what was happening and she felt so dizzy. She had to close her eyes tight and lay on her stomach, gripping the leather seat of the backbench to ground her. Every inch of her body ached and she trembled and broke into a cold sweat with the agony of it all. She whimpered and cried and wheezed but her uncle never went any faster, keeping to the speed limit. She thought she might be dying. She didn't have much sense of time, but she knew a lot of time had passed before her uncle had finally stopped the car for longer than a few minutes at a traffic light. When the car was still, she felt like she wanted to throw up, but she swallowed it. Who knows what her uncle would do if she threw up in the car. 

     She can hear the creak of the driver's door and then the sudden lift of the car as her uncle gets out. She manages to roll her head to look up just enough to see her uncle sneering at her through the car door window, not a speckle of guilt in his eyes as he looks upon her crumpled form in the backseat, fighting an internal battle to live after what he had done to her. Then he's opening the door and pulling her across the seat until he can scoop her into his arms. He's such a fat man, but his arms feel strangely solid beneath her and for a moment she wants to pretend he's holding her in comfort but then she remembers the look in his eyes through the door window. 

     Her head rocks around on her neck and she can see the fuzzy blue of the night sky with bursts of light crossing her vision like shooting stars. They all began to swirl together and she thought of that famous painting by that Dutch painter she had seen talked about once on the telly. She felt like she could float up into that strange, swirling sky and just disappear into it.

     But a much brighter light cut through that dark stary night and pulled her attention from the sky and more downward instead.

     Her vision focuses, sharpens on the words above the light. York Hospital. She had finished Year One in school and knew her words well enough to read 'York' from the sign.

     York? Her uncle had taken her all the way to a doctor in York? She didn't understand. Not right away as to why her Uncle Vernon chosen York Hospital, but it wouldn't take her long afterword to realize.

     Her head lolled, resting on her uncle's meaty shoulder. She could see that his face was red and there was perspiration too on his lower lip. He had this frantic look in his eyes as he sped up to a light jog up to the building and through the doors. He was calling out to someone to help, his breath blowing up hairs of his mustache, spit getting caught in it just like it did when he would shout at her. But this shouting was for her, this was different. This was like when Dudley got hurt falling off his bike, the way he called out for someone to call an ambulance when he wouldn't stop crying and thought he might have broken something.

     The Dursley's never reacted to any of her injuries that way. Until now and Amanda could see that the look in her uncle's eyes wasn't the same concerned one he had for Dudley. This was anxious and scared for a different reason. He kept shouting that he had an injured child who needed help until doctors and nurses were surrounding them, taking Amanda from his arms. She groaned from the switch, pain shooting up the middle of her belly and arm. She was too weak to give a real cry of pain.

     "Tell us what happened, sir," she heard a Nurse gently demand.

     "I-I-I hit him with my car. He just came out of nowhere, I didn't see him. I swear. I called for his parents, for someone but no one came so I just brought him here. I don't know who he is." her Uncle lied.

     Amanda, despite her age, understood now why he had taken her so far from 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging. He didn’t really care about her, he took her so far away because he wasn't going to be taking her back home with him, he was getting rid of her once and for all, just like he always threatened to do. 

      She never saw her uncle again once the doctors had taken her away. He had slipped back out the doors of the hospital and into the night, back to his car to begin the journey back to his family.

      "Call for an OR to be readied! He needs immediate surgery!" a doctor shouted from above her as they rolled her away on a soft bed. It was so nice, she felt like she could melt. The shouts above her faded out, like a radio's volume being slowly lowered until everything was a soft buzz. Then click. Off. No sound at all and darkness came with the silence.

      The next time she woke up there wasn't as much pain but something felt different, off about her body. She could feel something heavy on her arm and wrapped around her under the hospital gown she was dressed in. They had taken her glasses, so it wasn't that easy to see but if she squinted she could make out the white shape of a cast on her left arm and when she looped down the collar of her gown there were bandages wrapped around her midsection. When the doctors came, they told her she had a broken arm, a ruptured spleen they had to remove, seven broken ribs and a fractured clavicle along with a lot of bruising and swelling to her face and head but none of that needed surgery luckily, but they would have to monitor her eye and brain for any further trauma.

      Of course, she didn't understand it, she was just a kid. What did the details of her injuries and any surgery she needed for the matter to her? Still, they talked her through her, letting her know exactly what was done and why. Afterward, they left her alone for a while. Five days later, after a lot of sleep and jello, they came back with questions. They gave her some replacement glasses so she could see, telling her the once she had come in with were cracked but they managed to get a replacement pair close to her vision needs.

      They felt strange on her nose and kept slipping down.

      The doctors asked her about the man who had brought her in and what had happened that night. Told her that he had explained he hit her with his car, that she had suddenly come onto the street out of nowhere right in front of him and he hit her. 

      Amanda didn't elaborate more on what her uncle had told them as they wanted. She was thinking, trying to remember. Some things were still fuzzy.

      They mentioned that on top of the injuries they had listed, there were marks on her back still from her uncles the last belt lashing and old scars from the ones before the last. There were also shoe prints on her back and legs they explained. These injuries didn't happen from a car accident. Someone had been hurting her. They wanted to know who so they could help her, protect her. If someone in her family was hurting her she just had to say so and they could arrest the bad man who had hurt her if she just told them the truth.

      It was tempting to believe that Uncle Vernon would be punished if she spoke up, but uncle Vernon had always been good at lying and making her the bad one. So she didn’t take the chance.  Besides, she knew her uncle had taken her here so that he would never need to see her again. That meant he wouldn't hurt her anymore.

      That was a nice thought. She realized suddenly that she didn't need to be afraid anymore, that she could be herself and never worry again about being called a freak for one reason or another. She wanted to keep it that way.

      Amanda didn't see any point in telling the truth. In no way did she believe that telling these adults about the Dursleys would actually help her. 

     She kept her lips sealed. 

      They seemed to give up on that line of questioning, instead, they focused on her. The doctor asked her what her name was as the man who had brought her in said he didn't know what it was.

     "Amanda Potter." they had frowned at that.

     "Sweety, that's a girl's name. Is that a friend or a family member?" they told her and asked.

      She shook her head and insisted that was her name. She was Amanda Potter, she was a girl, and that was what she wanted them to call her. But they didn't. They started calling her Mr. Potter and everyone at the hospital kept calling her “Mr, he, young man and son.” She hated it. Why did no one ever listen to her. Why couldn't they accept it, that this was her name, that she was a girl. Amanda wanted to scream at them to try and get it right, to make some effort to respect what she wanted. Or at least for one of them to use her name. Her real name, the name that was the truest thing to her because she chose it.

      But she didn’t scream. She didn’t know what would happen if they kicked her out. She was seven-years-old and she was scared and in pain from all of these surgeries and bandages. She had been hurt before, but there was no Privet Drive she would be going back to, no cupboard under the stairs. She had nowhere and no one to turn to. So she kept herself tucked in bed, quiet as a mouse and holding on to her truth and wondering what would happen when she got better. 

      Six weeks. The doctors said she would be better in six weeks. She tried to remember how many days were in a week, add them up, so she could count down. It took a little bit when she soon came to put together she had 35 days left in the hospital now before she was healed. 

      A psychiatrist came to see her at some point when the doctors and nurses started getting impatient with her stubborn insistence that they call her 'Amanda' or 'Miss Potter' , correcting them at every chance instead of accepting their so-called medical and adult wisdom to know better than her who she was.

      This new doctor came in with a patient yet patronizing smile.

     He took a seat by her bed, smile still in place as he introduced himself then asked how she was feeling that day. Once the small talk was out of the way, he told her that the doctors and nurses were worried about her. Explained that it was very unusual and concerning that a child her age wasn't aware of her own gender but he would help educate her. He took out a graphic diagram and explained the biological differences between a man and a woman, then showed her their chart on her which had her marked as male because that was what her biology was.

     None of it, of course, changed how she felt. There was no convincing her otherwise that she was anything other than a girl. 

     "That's stupid," she had said with frustration, her eyes on her tented knees below the cotton blanket of her hospital bed. She said exactly how she felt. "Because my body's a boy, but my brains a girl."

     For a child that young, it was an incredibly powerful and moving statement because it simplified everything that Amanda was going through so easily, yet it was lost on the doctors. 

     "Why do you think your brain is a girl?" the psychiatrist asked. "Do you have the desire to wear women's clothes, do you like other boys, do you wish that your body was different then what it is?"

     "Were you ever forced to dress up like a girl by your parents or siblings? Treated like a girl by them. Is that why you think your name is Amanda?"

     "When did you start feeling this way about yourself?" he added on to his list of questions already asked. "Before or after you were hit by the car?"

     "Always. I just know. I always have,” she told him stubbornly, eyes getting wet. What did any of this matter? They were doctors, they were supposed to heal her wounds, why couldn’t they just focus on that. She couldn't help but get upset and started to cry. 

     "But you don't remember anything before you were hit by the car?" the psychiatrist didn't blink at her tears, he just kept going. Pushing her.

     "No,'" she said her lie with an accompanied sob that was loud enough to get the nurses to come in, concerned by the volume of her crying.

     They advised the psychiatrist to end their session. But he would come back, asking her questions about why she felt like she was a girl, asking about the things she liked. She answered the questions about the things she liked with the innocence and naivety of any child. She liked flowers and ballerinas. Pretty colors and long skirts. The psychiatrist frowned at her answers. She heard the doctors and nurses talking to each other sometimes, outside of her room when they thought she was sleeping, that they thought she might have been raised by some queer perverts and that was why she thought she was a girl.

      Amanda hated all of them for thinking that. Her uncle and cousin always used that word in a mean way, she knew it wasn't nice. She felt dirty. That wasn't why she was the way she was and it made her angry that others thought that about her. Every day at the Dursley's her aunt, uncle, and cousin told her she was a freak. So what if no one else was like her, why did that have to be a bad thing, why was being different so wrong? She didn't want the rest of her life to be like that.

      "Mr. Potter," Amanda didn't look up when called, out of protest of the use of being called 'mr'.

      There was a sigh and her social worker came the rest of the way into the room, pulling up a seat by the bed. "How are you feeling today?"

      Her social worker was a thin and short woman by the name of Mrs. Anderson. She had blond-grey hair that she wore in a bob and always wore a shiny gold crucifix that she wore, hung over her clothes. 

      When Amanda didn't answer her she tried another tactic. Mrs. Anderson pulled out a piece of paper from her bag and put it in Amanda's lap.

      "Your doctor said you are healing very well and in another two weeks, you'll be discharged. We should really think of a name for people to call you so I put together a list you can choose from," she said with a tight smile, her whole face looking stretched when she did so. 

      Amanda picked up the paper.

      Rajiv, Samir, Sandeep, Jagin, Mandeep, Sanjay, Raj. 

     She frowns at all of these names. she wasn't familiar with any of them.

     "Something wrong?" Mrs. Anderson asks when she notices Amanda's head tilt and frown. "I especially looked up names for young men of your background."

      "My background?" Amanda frowned, completely at a loss for what Mrs. Anderson meant.

     Mrs. Anderson looked at her with pity that was also mixed with her own aggravation. "Brown people, dear. Indian."

      "Oh," was all Amanda said, looking at the color of her hands. Aunt Petunia had always hated her skin. She said it made her look dirty, a dirty that could never be washed away. Her Uncle and Aunt said her father was just like her, that's where she got it from. That and his unruly curls apparently. They never, ever told her about her mother, if there was anything from her mother that was passed on to her she didn't know what it was. 

      "I already have a name, I don't need a different one." Amanda pushed the paper down her leg, far from her.

      Mrs. Anderson took the paper and put it back into her bag. "I guess I'll just have to pick on for you. Perhaps a good English name instead, hmm. Something like Henry or Edward,"

      Amanda sometimes thought that Mrs. Anderson just liked to hear herself talk as she listed more english sounding names to her.

      "And there are good doctors and a priest at the orphanage who will fix you." She smiled and that smile frightened Amanda more than anything her uncle had ever done or said to her did. and we can put to rest all this issue you with you thinking you are a girl." 

        That was not going to happen. Amanda didn’t refuse out loud, but she was not going to an orphanage and she wasn't going to be 'fixed' either. She would rather take her chances on the streets and be herself than trapped with strangers and forced to be something she wasn’t. She might only be seven-years-old, but she could do it. She had to. She couldn't think about what would happen if she couldn't.

        She only had two weeks before she would be taken from the hospital and brought to the orphanage. She had to think of plan and fast before that happened. 

       She was still in the hospital because the doctors wanted to keep an eye out on her after they removed her spleen. They wanted to make sure she didn't get an infection when her immune system would now be at it's weakest after the removal of the organ. They had given her some shots to help prevent her from getting sick and Amanda realized whatever other risks there might be she would just have to take the chance. 

        She didn't wait long and took the first opportunity to present itself to her. It was the 1st week of September, Mrs. Anderson had just left after her weekly visit, telling her that she had enrolled her into Fishergate-the orphanage that would be taking over her guardianship-under the name Albert Potter. She told her about the other boy she would be sharing a room with, how the other children were excited to meet her.  And she told her about what to expect when they arrived at the orphanage. School had started and she would be only a little late, but they wouldn't be able to help her catch up with the others. She would just have to try her best. After her classes, twice a weak Amanda would sit down with a doctor and Fishergate's priest to help her with her 'problem'. If felt that it was needed, they would increase the number of her appointments per weal All of it made Amanda want to shrivel up and disapear into nothing.

       The moment Mrs.Anderson left for the day, Amanda knew she couldn't wait any longer. She had to leave. She would not go to Fishergate Orphanage or any other orphanage for that matter.

     She knew she couldn't just run out of the hospital as fast as she could, it would draw too much attention and someone could easily catch up to her and stop her. No, she had to take this slowly.

      She waited until her doctor came to check on her, knowing he wouldn't come around again until that evening. But the nurses checked on her more often, she had to time her leaving right after they visited her in the afternoon then they usually didn't come again until the end of the night before bed. She tried her best to act normal not giving anything away as the nurse checked over the machines and asked some routine questions before leaving. That was when she would make her escape.

        Amanda got out of her bed and swiftly moved to the door, she peeked out and checked the hallway for any nurses or doctors and when he thought it was clear, she snuck out into the hall. Carefully she closed the door as quietly as she could behind her. She moved purposefully down the hall, already knowing what she would say if anyone asked her. She was trying to find the loo. 

        Before she left the hospital she had to find new clothes. She made her way down the hall and around the corner where the patients with private rooms were. She was cautiously moved through the hall, going door to door, peaking in and hoping to find a room occupied by another child. Her plan would be to wait until it was empty, though that would be tricky to do without being noticed. Lucky for her, she found a room that was already empty. It was either pure luck, or someone was watching over her because there were clothes neatly folded on the end of the bed. She cracked open the door, sticking her head in and doubled checked that all was clear before she tiptoed in.

       Amanda could hear the sound of water from the adjoining private shower. She pressed her ear to the door.

       "Ok, Amelia, time to get in. The waters nice and warm." she heard a woman say. "Remember, we need to be careful of your cast, not to get it wet."

       "Ok, mommy." a higher, younger voice said back.

       Good, they were just starting that would give Amanda the time she needed. 

       Going to the bed, Amanda looked at the clothes laid out and was relieved to find they were for a girl, maybe a little older than Amanda. She couldn’t help but grin at her luck. She went back to the door and closed it just enough she wouldn’t be seen. She put on the teal-colored jumper, smiling at the little flowers and butterflies stitched across the left shoulder and then tugged on the denim skirt. The skirt was a little big on her thin hips so she used the tie of her hospital robe as a belt. There was also a jacket on a hook by the door along with a larger coat for the child's mother. Pulling off her sling for her collar bone she cringed, biting the inside of her cheek at the twinge of pain. She would be more noticeable with the sling, she had to leave it behind and bare with any pain if she wanted to try and get out of the hospital unnoticed. At least she would be able to hide her arm cast with the jacket. She grabbed the colorful windbreaker and put it on, zipping up the front.

       There were shoes too. When she tried them on and they were tight, but they would have to do. She was about to leave when she noticed a purse on a chair in the corner. She looked from the bathroom door and the purse on the chair. Stealing was wrong but she had no choice, food and drink were not given out freely that much she knew. She went over and rummaged through the bag until she found a wallet. She took what money there was and shoved it in her pocket before leaving the room.

       Amanda tried to walk with purpose as she followed the exit so that she didn't look lost and was stopped by someone. Despite her efforts, she was still stopped once by a nurse who asked why she wasn't with anyone. She was lucky it was a nurse who didn't work the hall her room was located so she didn't recognize Amanda as a patient. She didn't even seem to be able to tell the difference between Amanda and a normal girl as she bent her knee's a little to be at better height with the little girl.

      The lie came with surprising ease as if she had practiced it before. She told the nurse that she was trying to get back to her parents in the waiting room after another nurse had let her back to use the restroom. She explained that the one in the waiting room had been occupied and the lady in it was taking a really long time so a nurse let her back. But when she came out the nurse must have been called away while she was in the loo and now she wasn’t sure how to get back and had gotten lost.

      The nurse gave an understanding nod and pointed her in the right direction before going on her way to do her rounds. 

     Amanda got to the waiting room and went right for the doors without looking back. Someone might have thought that was strange but she didn't stop and kept going until she was outside, breathing in the cool later afternoon air. She only took a few seconds before picking a direction and running as fast as she could away from the hospital. She didn't think about the direction she went. She didn't think about it other than to put as much distance as her little legs could between herself and the social worker and hospital.

      The Dursleys, if they had ever been to York before, had done so without her and had never mentioned the trip. She wasn't sure why her uncle chose York to dispose of her. It was probably the farthest he could think to go. A place he and his family would never usually visit and risk running into her again. Mostly Amanda was just trying to think of what to do next. The streets were unfamiliar to her whereas she had almost known all the roads and shops near Privet Drive by memory from when she was sent on errands or was sent out of the house. This city was for her an unmapped landscape in her mind that she would have to learn and learn quickly if she was going to navigate however long she would be in York.

      Some of the shops had maps they would give to tourists for free. She would think about popping in and asking for one. 

      As she continues her pathless journey, she wondered what is going to happen next. The police will most likely be called to look for her by Mrs. Anderson to take her to Fishergate when they realized she was gone. She would have to make sure to be careful that they didn't find her. She feels confident she won't get caught.  She's always been pretty good at thinking on her feet and running away. Strange things would always happen in her favor when Dudley and his gang chased after her. Once he was chasing her at school and somehow she was on the ground and then on the school roof. It hadn't made any sense, but it had happened. Maybe that would happen again if she was found and needed to getaway. She would hope if worse came to worse that would save her but she couldn't rely on that hope alone.

     When it got late, really late, she moves off the streets and into the alleyways between buildings. She needs to find a place to lay down and sleep for the night. It's only then that it suddenly hits her that she is homeless and just a little kid. She doesn’t know anything really. She’s suddenly very scared about what she’s done, wondering if it was the right choice.

     When she feels like she can’t go on as her feet ache and her collarbone twinges in pain she finds a spot in an alley curls up behind a dumpster. She cries herself to sleep, but that was nothing new for her to deal with.

     When she wakes it takes Amanda a moment to remember where she is as she is assaulted by the stench of the dumpster. Rubbing her eyes she gets up and goes back out to the street. Her stomach rumbles but that is something she had already learned to ignore from when the Dursley's would starve her as a punishment.

     Amanda walks aimlessly, taking the money she stole from her pocket and counting it as best she could. It's not as much as she hoped, as she had not counted but just blindly took when she stole it. She would just have to make it last. Tucking the money safely into her shoe rather than her pocket she continued to walk through the city. Her plan was to take in the sights and memorize the layout. In the distance, she could see the whole roof of York Minster. It was a huge cathedral that was impossible to miss and she would learn to use it to tell where she was in the city. It wasn't as big a city like London but it was still big enough to get lost and if she was going to be evading those looking for her she couldn't afford to get lost or run into a dead end. Such thoughts were not something a child should have to think about but for Amanda Potter it was all she could think about. So much of her childhood had already been bruised and dirtied by the Dursley's cruelty. A life on the run was at least a life where she was free and at peace with who she was. It was scary, every moment of it but she was strong and had a will to survive that would see her through hunger and cold. 

After so long of knowing something was different, of being called a freak, Amanda had accepted who she was and she would not hide that or let it go. On the streets, no one told her she was confused and that she had to be 'fixed' and it was nice as much as it was scary being alone. But when she feels afraid and lonely she mutters her own name out loud, reminding herself of why she ran away, why she couldn't go back even if it meant shelter and food in her belly. She was Amanda now. Harry Potter lived in a cupboard, belittled and beaten up by people that should have cared about him and loved him. Amanda loved Amanda, she was free and lived on the streets but she loved herself. There was happiness to be found in that. Harry was never happy and Amanda would never be Harry again.

In the beginning, she had a few runs in's with police or adults, but she outruns them or dodges into hiding spots. It's scary and once she was almost caught, she was right in their reach when in a blink she was two blocks away from where she just was. It was just like what would happen when Dudley and his goons would chase her. Other strange things happen too, once she was able to start a garbage fire to get warm without any matches. The paper just ignites for her. But she doesn't rely on what every magic it is that sometimes helps her. She does what she has to in order to survive like telling lies when cornered, or stealing money left on tables at restaurants and cafes, she learns tricks to blending in like walking in the shadow of couples so it looks like she's with them. She finds the best places to sleep at night and what shops throw out food still good enough to eat. She's managed two months on her own but she's filthy now, her hair ratty. She's had to lay in dirty spots in alleys and underbrush, she's dived in dumpsters for food to eat so it shouldn't be a surprise she would end up this way. She's some times wet her hands in a fountain to try and wipe some of the grime off her face but it just makes her look worse. She misses the freezing baths her Aunt would allow her in the basement. To her joy, her hair had grown out again but it gets tangly awfully quick and she had to brush it often with a hairbrush that had a missing handle she dug out of someone's wheely bin. 

Her money is low again. It's October and cold so no one is taking their food and tea outside anymore meaning she can't steal as much money as she used to. She tries to retreat into her windbreaker like a turtle, shivering. Things will get even harder with the cold. She counts her money again and catches sight of a child with a candy bar passing by the alley she's in.  Amanda's mouth waters. What she would give for a piece of chocolate. Dudley always got all the candy, but sometimes there would be a crumb that missed his mouth that she could pluck from the table and it would make her sing when that little sweetness touched her tongue. After all, she's only a little girl with the wants of any little girl. The candy beckons to her, it's sweet song is a siren call that she can't ignore. 

She leaves the alley and heads towards the shops. With the way she looked, she couldn't just walk into a shop without being questioned by the clerk or assumed to be stealing something. So she has to be smart, she finds another kid by themself in a corner of the store and asked the child in a whisper if they would buy her candy if she gave them money. They could have what was left over from the money so he could get his own treat. The little boy agrees. Running back to her with her chocolate bar before just as quickly returning to his mothers' side. She watches him go with envy, her eyes drinking in the kind eyes and warm smile of the boys' mother as he comes back to her side, gently touching his cheek.

Amanda ducks out of the shop before anyone starts to notice her.

Forgetting about the boy and his mother she focuses on the chocolate in her hand. She takes a deep breath and grins with the giddy anticipation of getting to eat chocolate. She unwraps it from the paper and foil with the savageness of Dudley opening a birthday or Christmas present. Her mouth waters to the point of nearly running over as she just savors the smell of it before finally taking that first, beautiful bite.

She sees stars behind her closed eyelids. It’s the sweetest, most wonderful thing in the world she’s ever had. She feels like she could float away as she savors every little bite she takes of the candy, wishing that it wouldn't end and trying to make it last. She can feel peoples stares, know that she looks horrible but she learned that more than not, people just whisper about it to one another rather than doing anything to possibly help her situation. Sometimes she might get a pence or a pound tossed in a can if she holds one out in front of a few shops. She learned that trick by watching a few of the older homeless. Otherwise, they pass her by, saying nothing and offering her only a pitying glance before going on with their days. Once it used to bother her, but not anymore.

Amanda is so absorbed in every little crumb that breaks off in her mouth that Amanda isn't careful where she is going. She bumps into someone and her grip slackens around the candy bar and the chocolate falls from her fingers and lands in a puddle. 

She stares at it, dissolute. She should have stopped eating it, should have tried to save it and make it last like the water. Who knows when she might ever get a chance to have a freshly unwrapped chocolate again. And besides that, she had used her last money to pay for it. She could always try stealing food, candy, but it's a higher risk of getting caught and chased after. 

She looks at the candy in the water and feels something break inside of her. Her stomach growls loudly in longing for not just chocolate but any food. Amanda's eyes grow wet and her chin wobbles as her emotions rise. She’s so hungry and her head hurts and she misses her cupboard. Why couldn’t she have just been born normal? Maybe her aunt and uncle would have loved her, maybe she would never have had to live on the streets just to be the girl she knew she was.

Tears started trickling down her dirt-stained face, leaving trails through the dark dirt smears on her cheeks.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” the man she had run into says and Amanda doesn’t look at him. Her eyes are still transfixed on the candy bar sitting in the puddle, her tears growing in number as they fall from her eyes with grief and exhaustion. She realizes she can't just walk away. She's eaten out of garbage bins before, what's a chocolate bar that's just fallen into a peddle to that?

Amanda leans down and takes the candy from the shallow bit of water.

“Miss, you can’t possibly think to still eat that!” The man gasps with disgust as he stayed around, for what reason she didn't know. He must have noticed her dirty appearance. He was probably going to ask next if she was alright, offer to take her to a police station and then he would have to run off and Amanda would be dragged to an orphanage. She should leave now, just turn and find a spot in the park to cry for a bit and mourn her chocolate and think of a way to get food and money again. The chocolate would be the freshest thing she had in a while, not it was wet and dirty just like her. Still, she used the last of her money to buy it. She couldn't just leave it. He would understand what it was like to have nothing, to savor any scrap you could get your hands on.

She doesn't answer him as she shakes off the chocolate. She knows it was probably her fault for not paying attention to her surrounding but at the same time she wants to yell at the stranger and put the blame on him but she knows she can't do that. She just stays quiet and is about to take a step to move around him and leave when she's stopped by the scent of chocolate, new and not from her own.

“Here.” a thin hand is holding an even bigger, already half-opened, bar of chocolate out to her. The kind of chocolate bar with little squares that you can break off into individual pieces.

She stares at the chocolate, almost hypnotized by it. She wants to grab it and run-it was the smarter thing to do but something is telling her to stay rather than flee.

Her eyes travel from the chocolate and up the hand holding it to the arm. He’s wearing a worn tweed jacket that was patched up sloppily and had loose threads all over and the seam at the shoulder was all crooked somehow. His clothes looked almost as bad as her own and she wondered if maybe he was homeless too. It's a funny, almost comforting thought. She had met one or two homeless adults that had been kind to her, giving her already flattened pieces of cardboard to make a bed out of or sharing their small fire with her as fall closed in around them and the weather grew colder. But they usually stuck to sitting against walls, they didn't walk as out in the open as Amanda had risked doing today, otherwise, people would report them and the police would come to shoo them away. It was horrible how they were treated. Some were just old men, put out and forgotten by family. Not much different from Amanda

She kept making her way up, seeming to take a long while to reach his face because he's actually quite tall. At least six feet and she was hadn’t been in a rush to meet his eyes before. She was still mourning her Mars Bar and really shouldn’t stay in case he realized she was alone. But she didn’t leave, she looked up to see the face of the generous person offering her a replacement for her dirtied chocolate.

The man was young, or at least younger than her aunt and uncle. He couldn’t be older than thirty, though some of the lines on his face might make you think he was. He was pale, very pale giving him almost an appearance of being ill. He had scruffy-looking stubble. The little mustache above his lip not meeting the rest on his chin and cheeks.

He had wispy light brown hair, almost blonde with some streaks of grey in it. He had pale lines going across his face that Amanda realized were scars.

She wondered how he got them. Had he been in a car accident too?

Then there were his eyes, he had the most somber green eyes Amanda had ever seen but then they seemed to glow with recognition as he took in her face. His brow pinched as he studied her eyes and the scar above her own brow, peaking through her hair.

“Harry?” he asked her.

Amanda bristles with alertness. He knew her somehow. Was he a neighbor of the Dursley that she had never noticed? maybe the Dursley did know people here, but how would he know about her?

She was so daft. She should have grabbed the chocolate from his hand and ran away. Maybe she still can.

She ducks her head down and grabs the chocolate from his hand, holding it to herself greedily as she tries to move around him quickly but the stranger won’t let her go. He stops her, taking hold of her shoulders as he kneels down to her level, keeping her where she is.

“Is it really you, Harry?” the strangers asks, his voice cracking with emotion as he drinks in her face like a man seeing the sun for the first time. Both in awe and somehow terrified. “The last time I saw you, you were just a babe. But I’m sure it’s you. It is, isn’t? Harry Potter?”

She shakes her head, closing her eyes in refusal of that name.

“My name is Amanda,” she tells him as she starts wiggling her shoulders to try and get him to loosen his grip on them. She attempts to duck and go under his arms, but he holds tight, pulling her back up and she refuses to let go of her candy and only has one hand to try and push and scratch at him to let her go. He looks frail but he’s surprisingly strong as he keeps her in place. It doesn’t hurt though, just enough to keep her from slipping his grip.

Why won’t he let her go? She told him she wasn’t Harry. So he should let her go now but he wasn't. What else could he want from her.

“I told you. I'm not Harry. I’m not who you think I am,” she tells him, practically hyperventilating now as she increases her struggle. She’s scared of what he wants from her. No one tried to take her before, or at least they hadn't been able to catch her until now.“I’m Amanda, just Amanda. I’m not Harry. Let me go.”

She can feel the tears well in her eyes again as she starts to panic. She had been too reckless. He's going to take her to the police and she'll have to go to the orphanage or worse.

The man is quiet for a moment, thinking but still holding firmly to her.

“Perhaps you’re not called Harry anymore. But your Lily's child,” he tells her, his voice certain. “You have your mother's eyes.”

Amanda can’t help herself, her eyes meet his. There wasn't much the Dursley's told her about her parents, but she did know their names. How did he know her mum? 

He smiles a sad kind of smile and she wonders why that is. She’s too young to understand how much a person can miss another person. And she had never know her parents to really miss them. She just knows what its like to be envious of those with parents and the strong want for her own. To wonder what her parents had been like, what they looked like. Now, this man was telling her she had her mother's eyes.

“I would know those eyes anywhere,” he says and some of the somberness of his eyes melts to nostalgia as he gazes at her.

Her heart thumps painfully in her chest, her mouth goes dry and she remembers she needed to buy more water but she wasted her money on the candy bar. She starts to whimper. She doesn’t know what to do.

“Is your aunt and uncle with you?” he asks, looking around for her relatives as if they couldn’t be too far from her.“What are you doing in York, I thought Lily's sister lived in Surrey with her husband. Did you move?”

Finally, he looks at her again and this time he takes all of her in. From her matted hair to the dirt on her face, the rip in her skirt and the stains on her clothes. Her legs are scraped and bruised, her shoes or scuffed and scratched, her fingers are stained with filth of some kind and there is a tear in the sleeve of her windbreaker showing her crumbling cast.

“Oh, dear girl, what happened to you?” the stranger asked, tears glossing his eyes as he looks both angry and horrified at the same time as he pulls her to his chest.

No one's ever hugged her before. It’s strange, uncomfortable and somehow very wonderful. Amanda doesn’t move, she keeps her arms tight around herself, an arm guarding the hand that’s holding the chocolate. The animal inside her, the one that had to come out to help her survive, was afraid she might lose the sweet snack.

“I don’t know you,” she says into his shoulder, nervous as to who this person is and what he wants from her. “How do you know me?”

She doesn’t know why but there’s something familiar about him as if she had met him a very long time ago.

“I was a good friend of your parents,” he says as she pulls back from her, studying her face again and offering a smile. “My name is Remus Lupin.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Brew and Brownie

“You knew my parents?” she asked, the chocolate clutched to her chest and eyes both wary and curious. She looked so much like James, the color of her skin, the shape of her brows and the straight line of her nose. But her lips, her cheeks, and chin, that was her mother.

“I did,” he offered her a smile as he still tried to come to grips that he had James and Lily’s daughter in front of him. She looked horrible like she had been rolling around in a pile of trash, her clothes were a mess, her hair in tangles and she smelled like she hadn’t had a bath in weeks, maybe longer. He could only surmise she had been living on the streets from her appearance. His insides clenched at the thought.“The three of us went to school together. We were very good friends even after we graduated,”

Her stomach gave a loud growl and she whimpered with hunger pains. Remus took it as the perfect excuse to offer to take her somewhere. Someplace they could sit down and talk. It just so happened he had been on his way to get a bite to eat.

“Would you like to join me for lunch and tea, Amanda?” it might be better to take their conversation off of the road and sit down for a bit. The conversation they were going to have would likely be a long one. He might need more chocolate to get through this too.

Amanda suddenly stood taller and her cheeks colored with happiness. Not from the thought of food and tea but because he used her name. Remus doubted that many people she had met used her chosen name with her. But though she seemed happy she took a step back from him, still suspicious and distrustful. He didn't blame her. She was a child on her own in the streets, she should have fear and trepidation towards every stranger. It was smart. 

“It’s alright if you don’t want to go anywhere with me. I won’t force you,” he told her, understanding and respecting her uncertainty of him. He couldn’t push her, if he was too persistent with her he could really scare her off.

“I was hoping you can tell me why you’re in York” He needed her to explain what had happened so he could help fix this. The obvious thing to do next was to get her off the streets, take her home with him if he had to if there was no one he could return her to. Besides, Lily and James would come back and haunt him if he didn’t help their daughter when she clearly was in need. 

“Will you tell me more about my parents, If I get lunch with you?” she said, fingers tugging at her close, a nervous tick maybe.

“I would tell you about your parents no matter what, Amanda,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets and getting comfortable. Might as well if they were going to have this conversation here. Though he should think about putting a silencing charm or the like around them so muggles didn’t overhear something they weren’t supposed to. 

“You won’t make me go to an orphanage after?” she asked, fear in her eyes as her hands shook and she looked at him.

He shook his head. Was that why she was in York? Her relatives sent her to an orphanage here and she ran away? He could imagine a child that was like her would never be comfortable in an orphanage, not if she was as adamant to express who she was as he guessed. She would be surrounded by muggles who didn’t understand her and that wanted to change her. It must have taken all her determination and courage to get up and leave. 

Dumbledore must not have known about this because Remus couldn’t imagine the Head Master letting Amanda stay in an orphanage. There were cases of muggle-born children in orphanages but this was the Girl Who Lived. Ther would-be riots if the wizarding world learned their savior was being raised in an orphanage. 

“We can find someplace to sit close by to talk,” he offered, looking up and down the road for a bench.

“No, it’s ok. We can go eat. Please?” she was holding her stomach, her hunger the deciding factor of what she wanted to do.

Remus grabbed the fabric by his knee, gave a little tug, and leaned down to look her in the eyes better. “Amanda, I want to make it very clear, I don’t want you going off with anyone because your hungry, or because they promise you something. It’s dangerous. It’s ok to be scared to not be sure about me. It won’t hurt my feelings,”

She blinked owlishly at him for a few seconds before nodding. “I know,

“But you know my mum and dad, you even know their names. And you knew about me so I think I can trust you,” she said, a determined look on her face, her little brows pinching together. He didn’t know why, but that faith meant a lot to him. He stood back up.

“Alright then, let’s go get lunch. You must be starving. Hmm?” he grinned and felt his scars stretch over his face. He hoped they didn’t look scary to her. Luckily she didn’t seem bothered at all. “You can get anything you want,”

The truth was he didn’t have that much to spare but he knew he had enough to treat her to food. Especially if it meant getting some answers about what had happened to her.

He watches as Amanda face lights up and he began to lead the way. They walked in silence for a little while as he let Amanda get used to his presence. She was completely on edge, her entire body was rigid as they walked further down the street and around a corner, her shoulders to her ears as she tried to make herself more impossibly small next to him. Her eyes darted when someone whispered something as they passed, snickering or tutting at Amanda’s completely disheveled appearance and murmuring about how her father could take her out looking like that.

She stops walking and he turns to her. She’s looking at her feet, anywhere really but at him. Her cheeks were colored dark, a blush. Her eyes also looked wet. She was embarrassed and self-conscious of her appearance now after hearing some of the passing comments about them. He frowned.

It wasn’t normal for a child to be so tattered looking and it drew attention to both of them. She might be worried someone would call the bobbies on him for child mistreatment walking around with her the way she looked. Remus considered his options. He didn’t want her to leave until he got the full story and he needed more time to think of how he was going to get her off the streets tonight. But she was so insecure now that she might not want to keep going to the shop. That he might be able to fix.

He looked around for some seclusion. There was a small, narrow alcove between shops across the narrow shamble street they had turned onto. Looking around and it was a bit more crowded then he would like but he would chance it. He leads her to stand in the alcove while he stood in front of her to block the few of the other pedestrians. He leaned down and took his wand from the inside pocket of his coat. 

Amanda gave his wand a funny look, her head tilted curiously as she watched him. He didn’t expect she had seen a wand before, her relatives being muggles and all. He supposed this was one way to test how much she’s been told. Though he would have preferred to give an example of magic in a more secure and private environment. 

“Why do you have a stick in your coat?” she asked, eyeing the polished Cyprus wand.

“This is my wand and it’s how I cast spells. I’m going to do a little magic to clean you up before we get to the shop,” he said, giving his best trusting smile. 

“There’s no such thing as magic,” she said with a deep frown and a haunted, pained look in her eyes.

“Who told you that?” he asked her, taking in her body language more than anything. She was scared. But he didn’t understand why. Children usually loved the idea of magic.

“My uncle,” she answered, digging the toe of her shoe against the ground.

“Amanda, did your relatives tell you anything about your parents or the kind of school they went to?” he asked softly and watched as she shook her head.

“No, and they didn’t like me asking questions about them,” she explained a little further, helping him get a better picture of what her life had been like with her relatives. “Said they didn’t want me to grow up to be anything like them,”

Remus sighed. Her relatives hadn’t told her about magic at all, they most likely tried to ignore it if it did happen or discourage it in some way. Lily’s sister and her husband did not seem to be tolerant people of any kind, rejecting anything odd and strange that threw their perfect cookie-cutter life out of focus. Who knew what they had done to her, how they reacted to her questions or accidental magic. It was always a gamble with muggle-borns of course,e but there were measures in place with the ministry to monitor families like that and offer proper counseling to the child and parents if needed. The consequences of living like that were horrifying to think of if no one had stepped in to advocate for Amanda. 

He took in a deep breath, calming himself down. He didn’t even realize his hands were shaking.

“They shouldn’t have said that.” he started with. “Your parents were wonderful people. Your mother was the kindest woman I knew and your father could always make me laugh even when I felt so sad that I didn’t think anything could make me smile again,” 

He watched her face, her green eyes glimmering, focus entirely on him as she drank in his words. What had she been left with to picture her parents all these years? horrible things probably.

“They were by no means perfect people, but they were good, and two of the very best friends anyone could have,” he told her, smiling as he let himself remember James and Lily. “being like them wouldn’t be a bad thing,”

“And magic? Magic is real and I think you know that but your aunt and uncle didn’t like it. Did they?” he asked her, gently tossing out a likely assumption.

She shook her head, quiet as a mouse. He frowned. This meant she probably knew nothing about the night her parents died, that she was a witch, that she was to go to Hogwarts when she was older. 

“Well, I am going to show you a little magic right now. Just to clean you up. Is that alright with you?” he thought it was best to ask her, so she wasn’t startled by his charms and ran off.

“Will it hurt?” she asked, eyes wide and scared.

Remus chuckled

“No, it won’t hurt,” said Remus with a smile to assure her and make her feel better.

“Ok, then,” she gave her consent and Remus pointed the tip of his wand at her face. He would start with her glasses.

“Oculus Reparo,” there was a crackling sound almost like a sparkler, and the cracks in the lenses shimmered and disappeared slowly. Amanda went cross-eyed looking at it.

He wasn’t done.

He kept the end of his want pointed at Amanda’s face. With the tip of his wand, he drew an ‘S’ in the air and said “Tergeo,”. The dirt and grime on her face vanished.

He cast a Scourgify on her clothes and a Reparo spell after that to fix the rips and snags. She looked much better now. She would still need a real wash, with hot water and soap, but this should do for now for lunch.

Amanda blinked in amazement, mouth parted open in awe as she stared down at herself. He only wished he knew a charm for her hair. The poor thing had more knots in her hair than you would find on a sailboat. 

“Can you do more magic?!” Amanda’s attention was completely taken, her eyes staring in wonder at his wand, waiting for something else to happen.

“Maybe later. You should eat and I would rather that be sooner than later,” he said standing and putting his wand away. He held out a hand to her and she stared at it as if waiting for bubbles or sparkles to come out of his fingers. When nothing else happened she took his hand and warmth spread from his palm up to his arm and into his heart. A fuzzy feeling took over him and he suddenly knew he was completely helpless to this child. 

Remus wasn’t fit to take care of her, not with his ‘condition’ but he would do everything he could to make sure she was placed in a good home, with people who understood and would take care of her properly. And this time he would visit her. Often as he could. He had let his own grief and guilts get in the way of watching over his friend’s child. Maybe if he had tried to visit he would have noticed something was wrong much sooner and spared her from the pains he could only imagine she had endured with her relatives.

“Can I do magic too?” she asked him, a bounce now in her step. 

He looked down at her.“Have you ever had anything strange happen, maybe when you were scared or angry?’

She nodded. “I can make my hair grow back overnight and sometimes I ‘pop’. Is that magic?”
Remus quirks his mouth, “Pop? What’s that?”

“It’s when I’m suddenly one place, then I ‘pop’ and I’m someplace else. It happened when the bobbies chased me once.” she tells him and he stares at her in amazement.

Accidental apparition. That was incredible. He never heard of a child having such strong accidental magic before. 

“Once I flew up to the roof of my school in Surrey,” she added to the list.

“Mostly happens when someone’s chasing me,” she tells him, eyes still on him, big and waiting. “So is that magic?”

Remus smiles. “Yes, that’s magic. Accidental magic to be precise,”

“My aunt and uncle always said I was just a freak. They hated when things like that happened around me,” she told him, the memory-making her depressed. “Always got mad and punished me,”

“You are not a freak, Amanda,” he gave her thin hand a light, comforting squeeze. What had she gone through with her aunt and uncle? He hated more and more to think about it. He knew she couldn’t go back. Not to them.

“Then what am I?” she said, her eyes now glazed with tears.

“You are a witch, like your mother. And I’m a wizard, like your father,” he tells her in a low voice as his eyes flit around, careful to see if anyone overheard them.

“Like Merlin or the Witch from Wizard of Oz?” she asked and Remus couldn’t help but smile. Of course, that’s where her mind might take her. She was a child after all and grew up until now in the Muggle world with muggle books and television to influence her idea of what magic was.

“I’ll explain more once we get lunch. Can you be a bit more patient till then?” he asked her and she nodded her head rapidly. He thought her neck might snap.

“Are we almost there?” she asked looking around at the shops and restaurants they were passing. 

“Yes, just a few more up,” he promised pointing up the way to a sign that had a stack of brownies on a plate and a teacup next to it. The sign was hanging over a door. 

Brew & Brownie is a wizard owned cafe that also catered to Muggles. One of the few that existed. That was because getting a license from the Ministry to service Muggles was very difficult, the risk of accidental exposure was higher when a witch or wizard was in direct contact with Muggles on a daily basis. But those wizards and witches who lived in high numbered Muggle communities had no choice but to open a multi-catered shop if they wanted to make a living. Else wise they would have to travel to other villages and cities for work on a daily basis or get a closer job to their home at a Muggle shop. Traveling wasn’t much of an issue with the flu system, but some found it rather bothersome and flu powder could be expensive for lower-income families. 

York wasn’t a huge hub of wizards and witches. Not in the city anyway. In the villages around it, there were a number of magical families living simple and peaceful lives as everyone strived to.  But the numbers were still small enough for the need to have the Brew & Brownie.

Remus often visited the cafe for lunch after or between his shifts since he started working at the York Owl Post Office. But he knew, like most of his jobs, it wouldn’t last for too long. After a while of having to ask to take off once every month, people started to put the pieces together. They would stop being polite and start forwardly asking about his scars, ask why he always got sick around the same time every month. Very few were comfortable with keeping a werewolf on staff, they were afraid of getting infected, terrified he or they might forget the date and he would transform in the middle of work. Fear, ignorance, prejudice. He knew it almost all his life. Going from job to job, being run out of towns, denied a roof over his head, being sneered at, It was what he had become used to. 

Heat floods out the door as he opens it for Amanda. Her entire, little body relaxes as she steps further in. He can only imagine how cold she’s been out on the streets. It’s late October now and the weather has been keeping to around 9 °C, these days. The only time she could get warm was probably when she managed to sneak into a shop for a minute before her dirty appearance was noticed and she was chased off. But she’s with him now and they can stay still closing if she wants to. It will give him time too to figure out what to do after this. Obviously he can’t let her go back on the streets. He would have to try and convince her to let him take her to his home. There he could flu or send an owl to Dumbledore for assistance while knowing Amanda was close by and safe and not wandering around York finding a place to sleep.

Brew & Brownie was small with only five little tables for eating in and a glass display with muffins, cakes, and interesting shaped cookies on painted plates in the window of it. Behind it was a long countertop with a stove and espresso machine and an icebox. The floor was hardwood and the walls were a slate blue with gold-framed scenery paintings of the city from The Shambles to York Minster hanging for decoration. The small shop was lit by two, small electric chandeliers with faux crystals.

Remus gives a polite nod to the man behind the counter as they enter.

Cletus was a few years younger than Remus and a handsome enough bloke with sandy brown hair and brown eyes. He had good teeth, straight and pearly white. He always had a charming dimpled smile for Remus whenever he came in and ee always smiles and blushes when he spoke to him. If Remus wasn’t so inflicted with his disease and wasn’t still miserably in love with someone else – someone he should have moved on from a long time ago – he might have considered returning the flirtations that Cletus sent his way from time to time. Though it was nice, to have someone think he was attractive or a good catch. But if Cletus knew that he was a werewolf he might not be so happy to have his patronage.

He smiles down at Amanda, trying to gauge her comfort level as they enter the shop. He knows he’s on the tall side, but when he looks down at his friend's child she seems too short. She would have turned seven at the end of July, but she looks almost a year if not younger than she is and that concerns him. Was this just because she had been on the streets are had she been like this under her aunt and uncle’s care?

“You’re at the age you can read some, does anything look good to you?” He hands her one of the laminated menu’s that were at the counter to her to look through. She takes it with one hand, the other still clutching tight to the chocolate he had given her earlier.

“Hmm” she says looking over the lists of food and tea. She licks her lips and he can hear her stomach growl again. She squints and holds the menu closer to her face.

“I can’t see very well,” she admitted, some embarrassment in her voice. “These aren’t the same as my old glasses,”

He takes note of that. She would need to see an optometrist. There were plenty of wizards and witches who wore glasses instead of using a spell or taking corrective potions for their eyes. A trip to Diagon Alley would get her what she needed.

“Would it be ok if I ordered for you?” He asks, wanting to limit her discomfort, and maybe if he took some of the pressure off of deciding what she wanted herself it would make her feel better.

Amanda rolls back her bottom lip and nods her head, holding the menu up for him to take back.

He takes a glance at the menu before he orders Amanda a turkey sandwich and a strawberry and rhubarb tea to wash it down and warm her up. He doesn’t get any food for himself just yet but he does get himself a cup of tea. The flavor of the tea he orders is one he has tried before. It tastes like oranges and mint. A surprisingly pleasant and refreshing combination.

As well as being a shop to cater to muggles and wizards, the cafe was popular for having unusual but delicious tea flavors. It was popular among the younger generation these days for that reason. 

Once the orders were in he took out his coin purse and gave Cletus payment before he went and prepared their lunch.

“Coming right out,” the younger wizard smiles and even offers up a wink before going to work.

Remus hopes his face is not too pink when he leads Amanda to a table in the middle by the wall. The shop is relatively empty. There are only two other occupied tables. One with a single man and another a table of three elderly women, quietly talking to one another about a book they had all just read.

Amanda reluctantly places her confection on the table, still close enough to snatch and run if need be. He tries not to show that he notices that and though he’s afraid that the chocolate might melt, he doesn’t mention it. She’s like an animal right now, on alert, taking in her new surrounding and protective of the only food she currently has. It might upset her to try and remove it.

“I imagine you must be quite hungry,” Remus said, she was skin and bones beneath that sweater and windbreaker for sure. “Your sandwich will be out soon,”

“Thank you,” she says softly, and he just softly smiles at her good manners.

 “So, what brought you to York. I thought your relatives lived in Surrey?” he repeated one of his earlier questions.

Amanda didn’t answer right away, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she thought.

“Uh, my uncle Vernon brought me to a hospital here,” she replied, her attention waning from her food. She glanced at the front door again.

“Because of your arm?” He asked, pointing to her hand. He had noticed the cast peaking out from her sleeve before.

“And other stuff,” she shrugged and he didn’t like that one bit at all.  

“Where else did you get injured?” he asked and she was terrified of the answers.

“My ribs, and my leg, head, and they said something about having to remove my spleen.” when she said this he could feel his eyes bulge in their sockets, his hands curling into fists. She had to have surgery. She was seven years old and she had to have major surgery to remove a damaged organ. He was clenching his jaw so hard that he thought he might hear a crack any minute.

“Here yeh go, Remus.” Cletus gives a shy and charming smile as he places Remus’ cup of tea in front of him first, then Amanda’s along with two glasses of water.

Remus forces the tension to leave his body as he turns to the shop boy.

“Who’s this pretty lady with you, Remus?” Cletus asks, a bit of worry in his eyes as he undoubtedly notices Amanda’s disheveled appearance despite having fixed her up a bit earlier.

“This is Amanda. The daughter of an old school mate of mine. I offered to take her for the day,” he lies easily to the young man. It’s a believable enough story.

“Nice to meet you, Amanda,” he says to her with a toothy grin. “I’m Cletus. You just let me know if you need anything, ok?”

“Thank you,” the girl says offering her a grin that seems to become a bit easier for her now.

“You are very welcome,” and then Cletus returns to the counter, leaving them to their lunch.

Amanda hunches over the sandwich like a territorial animal and gobbles it up, their conversation momentarily put on hold while she eats.

He worries she might be sick with how quickly she devours her food but she seems fine at the moment. She licks her fingers when she’s done, getting every crumb, still hungry.  Remus waves over Cletus and asks for another sandwich and a bowl of Cullen Skink to follow. This time he does order something for himself and asks for a roast beef and french onion grilled cheese sandwich. Maybe the food with help ground him through the difficult details of how Amanda had gotten so hurt.

Amanda seems to take it slower with this sandwich before the soup comes out. She sighs over the bowl, goosebumps popping up under her jaw as the steam hits her face. She savors each spoonful and hums with delight as it warms her from the inside out. 

He hates this. Hate seeing this little girl react in such a way to food. Something she should have had a steady, and a healthy supply of. She was supposed to have been safe, protected, and cared for. He didn’t understand how Dumbledore could have made such an error in judgment regarding who raised her. How he could let something like this happen.

The whole world knew that Dumbledore had taken Amanda the night You-Know-Who vanished after killing James and Lily Potter. The Ministry tried to get it out of him but of course, no one could make Dumbledore give up a secret. So no one knew for sure where he had taken her and who was raising her. Sirius would have naturally taken her after, being her Godfather, that is if he hadn’t been arrested for the murder of those muggles in Godric’s Hollow and suspicion of being a death eater. He was still awaiting trial. It was all a prolonged farse of course.

Lily had a few school friends that had laid low during the War but he couldn’t imagine Dumbledore placing Amanda with someone with uncertain loyalties. Lily’s friends were good people and he doubted any would turn over her child to Death Eaters, but he could understand not wanting to take that chance. If it wasn’t a witch or wizard then it had to be someone off the radar completely, who could take her in without eyes being on them.

No one would look for the child with Muggles. 

It had to have been Petunia.

He took a few bites of his sandwich, a sip of tea and then proceeded where they left off.

“How did you get so hurt, Amanda?” he continued to his inquiry. “Were you in an accident of some kind?”

She let her spoon hang suspended in her hand, stopped by his question.

“My uncle didn’t like it when I told them that I was a girl and wanted to be called Amanda,” she mumbled, repeating what her uncle said. Remus cringed.

“So it was your uncle that hurt you?” he needed to know because it would be asked of them both later when determining what to do.

She nodded.

“Was this the first time this has happened?” his skin was crawling and already his stomach was trying to reject the few bites he had just swallowed, the thought of anyone abusing a child making him ill.

“No. Just the worst,” she answered with a shrug, as if it wasn’t important, as if it didn’t make a difference.

“Amanda, did your uncle leave you alone at the hospital, or was he waiting for you?” He didn’t think it mattered, wouldn’t change his mind about making sure she didn’t go back to those people, but he asked anyway.

“He told the doctors he hit me with his car and didn’t know who I was. Then he left,” she wiped her eyes as tears began to gather in them “They never wanted me anyway. I was always a freak.”

Remus curled his fingers into a fist. That bastard had beaten her so badly she had to have an organ removed, claimed it was an accident then threw her away like she was trash. He wanted to whisk her away right to St. Mungo’s for a proper check-up, to make sure she hadn’t run off from the hospital too soon. He was scared she might have caught an infection or that her bones hadn’t healed right in the cast. He hadn’t even asked her how long she had been on the streets. It could be days or weeks. Maybe longer. Before he could ask Amanda started to cry and she couldn’t make herself stop. Cletus gave them a look at her sobs and Remus just gave an apologetic glance before moving to the chair closer to Amanda and putting his arms around her. Tucking her against his side and hiding her from view.

“You know, Amanda is a very pretty name. How did you pick it?” he asked, trying to help her focus on the positive things.

“I read it in a book of names I found. It said Amanda means ‘worthy of love’” she sniffled then wailed, earning stares from the rest of the patrons. “I thought that family was supposed to love you? I though if my name was Amanda it might help!”

“They are. Your aunt and uncle were supposed to take care of you. They should never have hurt you. It doesn’t matter if your witch or because you told them you’re a girl. They should never have laid a hand on you and abandoned you as they did,” he held her tight, looking down at her wishing that he could take this pain from her.

“If I was normal it wouldn’t have been so bad.” she wiped her face, pushing her glasses up her forehead to get to her eyes better.

“Why couldn’t I have just been born a girl?” she mumbled as she looked down at herself. “It’s not fair. Why am I like this?”

“It’s not fair, your right,” he agreed knowing too well how she felt. He would do everything he could to help her, to make things easier for her so she didn’t grow up despising herself, doubting if she was worthy of love because she was.

“And as to why you are as you are, we call it mis-bodied. Sometimes when a person is born the universe gets things a little mixed up and you end up opposite outside then what you are inside.” he tried to explain it, or at least how it was understood in the magical world.

“Can magic make me a girl, a real girl?” she looked up at him at the sudden realization, hope in her eyes. “Like how my hair can grow with magic,”

“You are a real girl already,” he wanted to make that very clear. It was important she was instilled with that confidence as soon as possible. “And yes. Magic can help change your body until your comfortable in it.”

“But it’s not something that a spell can do. To make it last it takes time, years of continuous potions to alter your insides and outsides,” he explains to her. She looks only a little disappointed but that it was not instantaneous but she seemed to understand what he was saying it was clearly very excited and hopeful at the possibility that she could transition.

He remembered how happy he had been when his father told him there were more things to be done to make him more comfortable than wearing different clothes. 

“The doctors said I was sick and the lady who was going to take me to orphanage said a priest could fix me. Make me better,” she told him, using her napkin to better clean the tears from her face, still under his protective and comforting wing. “It’s really possible then?”

“There is nothing to make better because there’s nothing wrong with you,” he told her stubbornly and reassuringly. “You don’t need to be fixed because you’re not broken,. The potions I’m talking about don’t fix you they just help you be more you,”

“But I’m not normal either,” she mumbled and he understood too well the frustration and confusion she might be going through. “Normal kids don’t think like me, don’t feel like I do.”

“I wouldn’t explain it as not normal, but less commonly seen in people.” he tried to word it better. It didn’t seem to make her feel less miserable about it. “And there are thousands and thousands of witches and wizards out there just like you, you will go to school with kids like you when you're older.”

It could be horrible, to feel like you were the only one in the world to feel this way.

“I’m also like you,” he told her, trying to cheer her up by giving them common ground, to make sure she wasn’t alone.

“Because you’re a wizard?” she asked him, brows furrowing, “Magic you mean,”

“That too and because when I was born everyone assumed I was a girl. Like they assumed you were a boy. My parents named me Rieka until I asked to be called Remus,” he shared with her, hoping his story would make her feel better, give her some sense of belonging.

“But you don’t look or sound like---” her voice was hushed now, as if she was scared of outing him suddenly.

He smiled, knowing where she was going with this.“Thank you. I do try, but it’s mostly thanks to the potions I took. The one I mentioned you can take too, but that’s up to you.”

“And your mum and dad weren’t mad at you? When you told them?” she asked him, almost amazed by the idea that someone like her could be accepted and loved.

“No. They weren’t mad,” he told her and continued to speak honestly about it with her. “I think they were a little surprised at first, I was a very shy and quiet child. It wasn’t too obvious with me so it took some adjusting for them.” 

“Do you think my mum and dad---”

“Your mum and dad loved you so much, and if they had lived to see you now, they would still love you as Amanda as much as they loved you as Harry. If that’s what your asking,” he said with conviction, with a true and sincere knowledge that her parents would have adored her no matter her name or her gender. They had died for her, and would do so over and over again, that he was certain of no matter what name she chose, what she wore, or who she loved.

“Can you tell me more about them?” she looked at him with those big green eyes, like a does eyes if they were brown instead.

“All I know is I look like my dad and that they both died in a car accident and that’s how I got this scar,” she then pushed up her bangs to shown him the pale lightning bolt across her forehead.

He hadn’t talked about James and Lily with anyone in a very long time. Now the first person he would speak about them to in so many years was their daughter. Where did he even start? Would it be best to correct her on how they had truly passed? No, that was too much, too soon. He would tell her about that another time.

“Well, like I said they were a witch and wizard, we all went to a school in Scotland called Hogwarts together.” he started with something simple. Something easy for him to talk about.

She giggled, and it was a wonderful sound. “That’s a funny name for a school,”

“Hogwarts is where the magical children from all over the United Kingdom go to school to learn how to use and control their magic,” he explained, loosening his arm around Amanda to take up his tea again and give her room to finish her soup which was starting to cool.

“That’s where I met your mum and dad. Though I didn’t get to know your mum until years later really, I was friends with your dad first,” he told her and smiled as she sat sitting still and attentive to his every word, lapping anything about her parents up like a parched man in a desert.

“Your dad was a great prankster, always getting us in trouble.” he went on and one until some hours had passed, he couldn’t recall the last time he had spoken at such length about his friends. They went through at least five cups of tea and Amanda’s eyes were starting to droop, her stomach full and the tea lulling her into a sleepy state.

Remus took a deep breath, becoming very serious as he faced Amanda more face forward now.

“Amanda, I know we just met but would you like to come to my home for the night. You can’t go back on the streets, we’ll find proper arrangements for you, with people who understand you and won’t try to change you,” he told her and she blinked at him, considering carefully.

“You really won’t turn me into the bobbies or send me to an orphanage?” she asked, and he could tell she wanted to go with him, to trust him.

“I swear,” he said, as serious as he could be.

“Then will you pinky promise?” she asked and held out a hand that coated with sandwich crumbs and chocolate. He remembered once doing something like this with James and the others when they officially formed the marauders.

“Pinky promise,” he looped his little finger with hers, nearly dwarfing her hand.

Satisfied she stood from the table. “Ok then, let’s go,”

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Home, Sweet Home

They take a train from the city and get off in Knaresborough. It was a quiet ride between them, Remus explained they had to be careful when talking about magic in public because non-magical people weren’t supposed to know about them.

Tired passengers filled the cars as they returned home from a day of work and the motion of the train makes her sleepy. It’s not a very long trip, only about twenty-five minutes or so to get to their station. Amanda likes the look of the old station they pull into. Charming she thinks the word is supposed to be.

They leave the train and go down the track and out near the road. Remus leads Amanda to an old cruiser bicycle that looked like it was from the ’50s that is chained up to a light pole. It was slightly tarnished but otherwise looked like it was in very good condition. It had a luggage rack in the back and a headlight.

Remus pulled a key from his pocket and slid it into the lock, removing the chain looped through the bicycle frame and freeing it. Amanda watches in amazement as he takes out his wand again taps it and says a spell she can’t quite make out that makes the chain and lock shrink to the size of a necklace and charm. He then puts them in his pocket and slips his wand back into the inside of his coat.

“I’m not much for cars, most wizards aren’t really, less their muggle-borns,” he tells offhandedly as he starts to mount the bicycle. “If you would kindly just hop on the back we’ll get going,” 

There is a moment of doubt and Amanda considers that she probably shouldn’t be so trusting and should be scared to be going along with this man. But there was something about Remus that was so comforting beyond just that he had known her parents. 

Remus had sad eyes and instead of being hardened, he seemed soft and almost fragile. It almost made her want to protect him without knowing what had even made him so sad. He was also kind. And not in that superficial way the Dursley’s acted, but in the sense, he actually meant goodwill when he brought her to that cafe and ordered her food. 

She wanted to know more about her parents and she wanted to know more about him. He was like no one else she had ever met before. Then again she didn’t know many people.

She still had hesitations about him but she told herself she would give him a good kick in the groin and run for the hills as fast as she could if he tried anything funny.

He leans the bicycle over just enough for her to hop up on the luggage rack. While she does Remus at the same time he pulls the bicycle all the way upright. The momentum helps to get her balanced and seated on the back of the bike. She puts her arms around him as he begins to peddle onward. 

“What’s a Muggle-Born?” she asked, remembering the funny word he had just used.

“A witch or a wizard whose parents are non-magical. Your mum was muggle-born,” he tells her, glancing at her over her shoulder before focusing on the path ahead.

“Oh,” she responds. That makes sense. Her aunt couldn’t do any magic, so she wasn’t a witch, and she very much doubted that her grandparents were a witch and a wizard giving how Aunt Petunia was.

As she holds onto him Amanda notices that Remus feels thinner than she thought he looked, her arms meeting around him at the front where she could hold her own wrists. He had talked so much about her eating proper but he felt like he ate as little as she had in the last three months. But his back was warm and solid and when she puts her ear to the center of it she can hear his heart. The smooth rhythm almost puts her to sleep and she barely pays attention as they ride through a narrow street with terraced houses and a few semi-detached ones across the road. They go across a wide, busy street and then turn onto a dirt path alongside a river, the journey not less smooth as they go over pebbles and rough dirt. 

Amanda watches the boats float down the water until Remus makes a bend to the left and then there is a thick row of trees between them and the river. They go straight and then keep right again to cross a field of green grass. There are no buildings, just grass, and a few trees before it’s all trees again as they make it all the way across the field and then take another right turn onto a narrower dirt path.

At some point it feels like she’s entering another world as they start to ride through a green tunnel made of overhanging trees, the branches meeting above them. Remus has turned on the headlight as the sun had started to set and the treetops only let through a few beams of fading, pink sunlight.  It’s magical.

“Home sweet home.” those words take her from her thoughts and then Remus tilts the bicycle to let her off. 

The trees had stopped and now they stood under the open sky. There were only a few clouds above them and otherwise she could look straight up and see the twinkling stars and bright crescent moon as night finally came out all the way.

Amanda looks at the tumbledown cottage in front of them. Its red bricks had faded to practically pink. There were vines climbing up the house’s face and sides. The clay shingles of the roof were missing and broken in many places and half the chimney was missing. The yard was overrun by tall, uncut grass and weeds.

Remus swings a leg over, getting off the bike and she slips off herself. He walks the bicycle the rest of the way up to the door, Amanda following him. He leans the bike against the wall, just under a window, and goes back over to the pale blue door that’s dead center of the house and he takes out his key ring, unlocking the front door and holding it open for her.

Taking a deep she walked into a very small entryway. Directly in front of them was a rickety-looking staircase leading up to the first floor. 

Remus took off his coat and hung it up on one of the two rusty hooks screwed into the wall by the door.

On the left an archway leading into what looked to be a lounge where there was a fireplace on the far wall from where she stood inside the hall. It was missing bricks and looked ready to cave in on itself, the mantle above it was cracked right down the middle, a few splinters of wood making little bridges between the pieces.

He had a hideous velvet sofa and a ratty recliner furnishing the lounge along with a coffee table in front of the fireplace. One leg was missing and a stack of books was used to replace the missing limb. There were creeping stains leaving tracks down the walls. Amanda was also sure there was mold growing up from the possibly once white carpet. She crossed to the right side of the house.

The other room was the kitchen. It was in slightly better condition then the lounge but not by much.

Set in the innermost wall of the kitchen was a nook of arched bricks with an iron cast range cooker set in it. The kitchen had an ‘L’ shaped countertop. The longest part going along the wall at the front of the house with a window right over the sink to see out onto the road. The lounge had a window facing the same direction but was bigger. There was an old, rust-stained fridge at the end of the shortest part of the counter and beside it was a door leading out to the side of the house.

The white tile of the floor had mildew in between the cracks and the purplish marble of the countertops was cracked and smudged. By far the newest thing in the house had to be the spruce kitchen table, the square of it was only just big enough for four people, though it might be a bit snug.

“Sorry, it’s just me and I don’t have much,” Remus said in a sheepish and almost embarrassed voice that makes Amanda turn to look at him.

He looks behind himself towards the lounge then again into the kitchen, sweeping his eyes overhead. He gives a weak twitch of his lips and meets her eyes now. Remus is nervous about what she would think of his home. It was as if he forgot she had been sleeping onf the streets. Amanda considered what she had seen of the house so far and no matter the dirt and grime it was better than the streets. She would also take it over the Dursley’s house and her tiny cupboard any day.

“It’s great,” Amanda told him, grinning so big her bottom lip pressed against the space where her two bottom incisors had been. They had come out a few weeks ago. 

“I’m going to head up and fix up the spare room for you. Do you want me to make you a cup of tea or something first before I leave you?” He asked her, looking at the stove.

She shook her head. “I know my way around a kitchen if I need anything.”

That made Remus frown but he didn’t say anything about it, he just gave her a nod and went up the stairs. He wondered what type of chores her aunt and uncle had made her do when she was with them.

Once alone in the spare room Remus sagged back on the door and cast a silencing charm over the room so he could weep without alerting Amanda downstairs. It took all his Gryffindor courage to keep himself together for Amanda but now, now the weight of their meeting, the shock of it, it was overwhelming so many emotions washed over him like a tidal wave and dragged him under to a place he hadn’t been to in years. He cursed Sirius for betraying them, thus being the reason Amanda was robbed of her parents and their friends. None of this was right at all. It was wonky. 

When he was finally able to calm down he used a spell to clean up the redness of his eyes and tears tracks down his cheeks. He needed to focus on getting the room tidy for Amanda. He didn’t actually have furniture in the room to accommodate her so he had to transfigure a few objects to at least provide her with the bare essentials for the night. He was otherwise limited by Gamps Law and Amanda would have to be taken out to buy new clothes along with new glasses. He wasn’t sure if he would be the one ultimately to go with her after he contacted Dumbledore, though he would rather stay with her as long as possible before she was placed with someone else. Even a temporary home. For the night he would lend her a pair of his shorts and a shirt to sleep in.

After fixing the room he went to the bathroom next to it and started to fill a bath. Amanda needed one that was for sure. He frowned at his choice of shampoo and conditioner he had to offer. It wasn’t really fit for a girl. James always said something about olive and coconut oil. James had laughed once when Sirius recommended Sleekeazy to their friend for his own unruly hair.

“Mate, my da’ is the creator of Sleekeazy,” James had told them with a blank face. “It’s mostly just coconut oil,”

He also said something about using petroleum jelly in place of a conditioner. Shampoo your hair and while it’s still damp put a little on your fingers and run it through your hair. Remus decided to see if Amanda might be amenable to that idea. It might help to get some of those tangles out of her hair or he feared they might need to cut it. Which didn’t seem awful when he remembered she told him her hair had grown back overnight when her aunt cut it once, but he also didn’t want to trigger any traumatic memories either for her by cutting it.

When he went downstairs to tell Amanda about the bath he found her in the lounge, looking around with a frown. He knew his home was anything but impressive, it was a cheap rental and far enough from the public that he could go about his business on the full moon without too much worry of being stumbled on or heard by neighbors. 

“Do you have any pictures of my parents?” Amanda turned around when he approached, looking hopeful.

So that was what she was looking around for, photos. He supposed most people had a few sentimental photos hanging around, she was probably hoping he might have something. He had pictures of course but almost all of his pictures with Lily or James had Sirius and Peter in them and it was painful to look at their faces staring back at him from a time when things were good, so he never put them out.

“I do,” he told her, stepping into the lounge. “I’ll look for it while you go up and have a bath. I already started the water and some clothes are on top of the loo for you to change into. I’ll wash what you have on for you if you leave it outside the door.” 

Amanda didn’t look like she would be opposed to a bath. She frowned, looking at her self. She had slept by dumpsters and in dirt and who knows what else these last few months. “I must smell. Sorry,”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault,” he gave her a little smile then took out his wand again.

“Can I see your broken arm real quick?” at his request Amanda held out her limb, watching him curiously to see what type of magic he would perform this time for her.

“And how long did you say it was since you left the hospital?” he couldn’t recall if he had asked that yet.

“Three months I think,” she answered and his expression was serious and thoughtful.

“Then your arm should have healed by now with the cast on.” he took out his wand and used the Diffindo charm to carefully cut away the rest of her cast. He let it fall to the floor where the plaster crumbled and blew over the carpet, coating the rough and discolored floor. He would worry about cleaning that up later.

Amanda flinched a little as he removed the cast, her arm was slightly swollen and the skin was paler than the rest of her body. Her skin was also dry and scaley like from a lack of outside moisture. That wasn’t too strange.

“It hurts a little,” she admitted as he examined her flexibility. He nodded, thinking.

“I want you to take a bath, gently wash your arm, and then after I’m going to splint it again just until I get a Healer to look at it,” he told her thoughtfully. He could handle gashes and cuts, had his fair amount of experience with them, but broken bones were out of his league. He could fire Mary Macdonald, he was still in touch with her and she was a healer. That would make things easier than taking her to St. Mungo’s just yet for a full physical and maybe he could talk to her about taking in Amanda. She had been friends with Lily in school too.

“Why don’t you go up for that bath now, hmm?” he said, smiling and letting go of her. “I’ll look for those pictures,”

“Thank you, Mr. Lupin,” she said with a shy smile, slowly opening up. But when he was called Mr. Lupin he made a little face.

“No need to be so polite, Amanda. You can call me Remus or use my nickname, Mooney,” he remembered how she used to call him ‘moo-moo’ because she couldn’t pronounce the ‘N’ and ‘Y’.

She scrunches her face in thought, lips pulling up in an amused smile as she tries out the nickname. It feels strange at first, but then it starts to roll off the tongue and feels familiar. Something about it makes her strangely giddy and she’s grinning ear to ear as she says it over and over like a baby learning her first word. Finally, she declares, “I like it!”

“Since that matter is settled, go on up and get clean. Remember to leave your dirty clothes outside the door for me to wash,” he waved his wand at the floor and the debris from her cast floated up and out of the carpet. Amanda watched it lift up and then disappear before going up the stairs with a huge smile, still amazed by the magic and happy to be off the streets for a night.

It wasn’t that hard to find the bathroom. Just like Remus said there were some men's clothes on the loo for her to change into after her bath. The water looked so nice, clean and warm. She was maybe a little too quick to take off her clothes, wrap a towel around herself and abandon her dirty clothes in the hall.

But she stopped at her skirt and stockings, she didn’t like seeing herself down there. She remembered Dudley asking his dad questions about the difference between boys and girls, and Uncle Vernon had explained it in both the biological sense of their different body parts and their roles in society. Then she once walked past the bathroom while Dudley was in it, he was boasting to himself about the size of his privates and Amanda didn't understand the importance of something like that. Then, Dudley and his friends started teasing her, about how he bet she was super small just like the rest of her. It seemed like such a stupid thing, they were just little boys, not men. They didn't know anything. But it made her so uncomfortable. More so as got a little older and she thought about what Uncle Vernon said, about the difference between a man and a woman. 

She took off her bottoms and then she locked the bathroom from the inside as an afterthought, just in case.

Putting the towel back on the rack she sunk into the warm water. It quickly grew dirty as she lowered further in, dunking her head in to get her hair too. It felt so ratty like a bird had made a nest of it.

She jumped at a knock on the door, grabbing for the towel. Remus's voice spoke softly from the other side, muffled slightly from the barrier between them. He didn’t open the door.

“Amanda, I forgot to mention but I don’t have a conditioner. Your dad once told me about shampooing your hair and then leave it wet when you're done. After you then put some petroleum jelly in. We can try that to get the knots out if you want?” he was offering. It was like he could read her mind.

“Ok,” she called from the tub, remembering she had locked the door plus Remus wasn’t making any attempt to get in, just speaking to her.

“Alright then, so just don’t dry your hair too much when you get out. Just call if you need anything.”

“Thank you, I will.” she could hear his footsteps this time as he walked away from the door, most likely with her soiled laundry in hand. He really was very kind, she was growing more and more confident he was someone she could trust. She hoped he could find those pictures of her parents.

She grabbed the soap bar from the side of the tub and began to scrub herself clean, careful of the grip so the soap didn’t go flying out her hand as she dragged it over, getting as much dirt from her as she could. The water grew darker and darker until she couldn’t even see through it anymore. Three months' worth of dirt and who knows what turned the water to almost sludge. Find the stopper, she drained the tub then turned on the showerhead to rinse off any remaining excess off her body and in the tub, also shampooing her hair.

***

Downstairs Remus had taken Amanda’s clothes along with some of his own out to the side of the house where he charmed a wash bucket and put up a line to clean and dry the laundry. The spell would see to the care of it while he went back inside. He knew a few basic housekeeping spells like the one he used for the laundry. After that was done he had gone to search for a photo album.

Remus was delaying calling Dumbledore. It wasn’t like it was particularly late in the evening, though the sun had set, that he would be considered disturbing him. School was in session, the evening meal would have ended by now, the children sent off to their respective dormitories for some last-minute studying and laughs with friends before bed.

He remembered those days, helping James think up his next great prank, helping Peter study, rolling eyes as Sirius showing them the muggle magazines he had smuggled into school. His lips twitched up at the corners thinking about those days. For so long he had let what Sirius had done taint all the good memories so that Remus couldn’t bear to think of them. For Amanda’s sake, he needed to find the strength to banish the shadow that Sirius left on those memories. He deserved to have those happy thoughts to go back to and Amanda deserved to have them shared with her without the weight of what Sirius did hanging over both of them.

He redoubled his efforts to find the photos Amanda has asked for. He was sure he had some that he carried with him. After realizing that they were not downstairs he went up to his room, going through his trunks until he finally found a handful of photos at the bottom of his bag. The moving pictures showed a group of young men, a few with Lily after she and James officially got together. He pocketed them and went into the hall, he could hear the shower running. It reminded him about Amanda’s hair and he walked back to his room, getting the petroleum jelly from his dresser. He used it for his skin during the colder season when he couldn’t afford new gloves and his hands chapped and cracked.

Going back downstairs he stopped and looked in the lounge at the fire. He still needed to tell Dumbledore where Amanda was. The quickest way would be to floo call him like he originally planned, but now that he thought about it again he wasn’t even sure he had any floo powder. He hadn’t really needed it for some time, choosing to take muggle transport to work. If he kept any floo powder it was for trips to Diagon Alley. He went over to a small table in the corner of the room and opened the drawer. Inside was a few knickknacks and a corked glass jar with green ash inside, the jar was clearly labeled ‘Floo Powder”. There wasn’t much, but it would be enough. It only took a tablespoon of floo powder to stick your head in for a call. This was close to a phone system wizards and witches have, those who were muggle-born avoiding most muggle technology like telephones, preferring to handwrite messages.

He took a deep breath and tossed the amount needed into the fire. It turned green, the flames rose high in the hearth and went cold. He stuck his head in.

He recognized the headmaster's office, grand and decorative, rich reds and deep purples decorating the elegant furniture that was sprawled around. Dumbledore sat at his large, ornately carved desk, a quill in his hand, as he wrote out a letter. His hat was gone from his head, and he had taken off his outer robe, looking more relaxed and comfortable. Hawks, the headmasters bird was perched on his stand, giving a trill as he noticed Remus in the fire and the Head master lifted his head, looking now towards his office fireplace.

“Good evening, headmaster,” Remus said, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish calling on Dumbledore.

As the headmaster recognized him he gave a gentle smile, eyes twinkling. “Remus, my boy!”

The headmaster pressed his long, silvery beard to his chest as he rose from his chair, coming around his table and down to the fire to speak better with him. 

The headmaster pulled up a chair by the fire, then took a glass bowl from a small table nearby.

“Cockroach cluster?” he had a chocolate shaped cockroach wrapped in clear plastic held between two long, spindly fingers.

Remus shook his head without taking it from the fire on his side. “No thank you, headmaster,”

Dumbledore gave a teasing frown. “Now, Remus, no need to be so formal with me. I’m no longer your headmaster, you can call me Dumbledore.”

Remus swallowed. He wasn’t sure what it was about Dumbledore that could both make him anxious and calm at the same time. Maybe because everyone knew he was the most powerful wizard, perhaps the only who could have ever stood toe to toe with you-know-who, or perhaps it was that he had been such a large authority figure in Remus’ formative years and he had been the one to make considerations for him so that he could attend Hogwarts.

“Dumbledore, then,” he agreed.

Dumbledore smile returned, relaxing back in his seat, ready to make small talk but Remus could tell he knew he hadn’t called to catch up, yet he still asked the polite questions first. “How are you, lad?”

“I’m well enough, Head-ah, Dumbledore,” he answered and decided to get right to it. It wouldn’t do them any good to hold it off. “I have something rather important to discuss with you. I just learned about it today,”

Dumbledore's usually whimsical and cheerful expression dimmed. “Have you heard the news already then?”

“News, Sir?” he must mean about her disappearance from the Dursley’s.

“Just a few hours ago Peter Pettigrew was found alive,” he spoke with a grave tone, leaning forward in his seat.

“What!?” Remus nearly pulled his head out of the fire, so shocked to hear about something so absurd. Sirius killed Peter, they found nothing of him but a finger.

“Ah, so you were calling on me for a different reason then,” said Dumbledore, stroking his beard. “Yes, your friend was found in the Gryffindor common room, gave all the students quite a shock when young Mr. Weasley was practicing his transfiguration and managed to undo his animagus form. He was living as the boy's pet rat. It’ll be all over the front pages tomorrow, I’m sure”

Remus felt out of breath and dizzy, like any moment he could faint. What did this mean? Sirius hadn’t killed Peter, then does that mean he wasn’t the one that turned James and Lily over.

“Mr. Black's case is finally going to trial with this incident, they can no longer hold it off after this. Be prepared to be called in to give a testimony in the following weeks,” the words went in one ear and out the other, he heard him but didn’t. His heart and mind were both in a panic.

“Remus, I know this is quite a shock---”

“Jame and Lily, their child---”

“Ah, yes, legally if Mr. Black is released and found innocent he’s Mr. Potters guardianship would normally go to him but---”

“She’s with me, Amanda is with me, I found her wandering the streets of York. She’s been on her own for months. Her uncle beat her bloody and drove her to a hospital in York and just left her,--”

“Remus, please calm yourself. I don’t quite understand,” the headmaster spoke gently, trying to get him to slow down. “Who is Amanda?”

Remus's eyes snapped up from Dumbledore pointed slippers to the man's eyes. “James and Lily’s child, she’s mis-bodied, and she wants to be called Amanda.”

“Dumbledore, you don't understand. Her relatives abandoned her, threw her away after her uncle beat her so bad that muggle doctors had to remove her spleen. The hospital would have taken her to an orphanage if she hadn't ran away.”

Dumbledore white, bushy brows furrowed together, almost meeting to make one line over his eyes and something caught fire in Remus. “Did you not know that she’s not been with her aunt for three months?”

“No, I was aware and I’ve had former Order members out searching for her since,” Dumbledore said, sighing and leaning back in the chair, his body sagging and he looked so thin suddenly beneath his pastel robes.

“Remus, you must understand, though what happened to Miss Potter is terrible, the girl has to stay with her relatives. Because of her mother's sacrifice, there are blood protections in place over the Dursley’s home as long as she is with one of Ms. Evan's blood. It protects her from death eaters. She has to go back to her Aunt,” the words were like nails on a chalkboard. Remus cringed in disbelief and disgust.

“This must be a joke. Headmaster, after what I just told you you are saying she has to go back to the Dursley’s?!” he could not believe what he was being told. Was his age finally getting to him, had he not been heard clearly? There was no way he was truly being told this by Dumbledore right now.

“Go back to my aunt and uncle?” Amanda’s voice said from behind Remus and he recoiled out fo the fire. He stared into betrayed eyes. She didn't see anyone, but it was clear that Remus was speaking with someone about sending her back. 

"Amanda,--"

“I trusted you!” she screamed.

Remus heart broke, he stood, reaching out. "Please, let me explain what you heard,"

"I won't go back to them! I won't go back to the Dursleys" she declared before running out the front door.

“Amanda!” On instinct Remus ran after her, forgetting Dumbledore on the other side of the fire.

He had trusted the headmaster, believed in him, was grateful for his help and his kindness when Remus had been at school. But he was wrong about this. Amanda could not go back to the Dursley’s, it would kill her more than it would ever protect her.

“Amanda, stop!” Remus shouted as he chased her down the dirt road. For someone so small she was quick and he was scared any minute she might call on her accidental magic and ‘pop’ away.

“I won’t let them send you back, I promise!” he cried after her, breathing hard as he continued to run to catch up. His lungs burned as he tried to suck in oxygen as it got hard to breathe. He was never the most athletic of his peers and it was taking everything in him not to keel over any second.

“Please, just listen to me!” he felt tears in his eyes now. The path was so dark, there were no lamp lights, but he could see only slightly better in the dark than the average person because of his lycanthrope. He tried to push his legs to go faster, to catch up to her. He had to get to her before she disappeared.

She tripped then, possibly on a dip in the road are a rock, but it got her to stop long enough for him to catch up. When he got to her she was on her bottom, face to the sky and crying big, fat tears. Her knee was scraped from her fall. He sucked in a lungful of air before crouching down in front of her, reaching out a hand to help her. She swatted his hand and started to smack at him, crying and shouting.

“You pinky promised, Moony!” She screamed and his heart felt like it was in a death grip, the life squeezed out of him at the use of his nickname. He saw the baby she was the last time he had visited his friends, crying in her mother's arms as she opened and closed her little hands, trying to reach for him and keep him from leaving. Snot started running down her nose she was crying so hard now. “You said I could trust you, that you wouldn’t make me go!!!”

“You can trust me!” He told her, hating that she felt he had betrayed her. “Just let me explain,”

“No, you're a liar!” he pulled her to him now, remembering she was just a child. He scooped her up in his arms and stood. His neck was quickly covered with tears and snot, her hands smacking at his chest and back as he carried her back to the house, still wailing like a banshee.

They were going to need a lot of chocolate to cheer her up and make this right.

Chapter Text

He held Amanda tightly to himself, her arms wrapped around his neck like two skinny python’s, nearly strangling him. His cheek and neck were dripping wet from her tears and runny nose. He couldn’t bring himself to feel upset over it though, she was just an upset child and it made him think of Peter who had always been a cry baby. His nose always ran like a fountain when he cried.

Peter, he thought and frowned. Peter was alive. All these years he had thought his friend was dead, killed by another friend of them both but he had just been hiding. Why hadn’t Peter just come to him? He would have taken him in and heard his story. Did he think he wouldn’t believe him about Sirius? He could have been a key witness against Sirius and this six-year-long trial would have been done and over with as soon as it started. Sirius would have been imprisoned for life at Azkaban and Peter would be safe. Perhaps he was terrified of retribution by other death eaters? Why else would he let his friends and mother think him dead all these years.

He supposed he would discover the truth soon enough. Dumbledore was sure to have asked Peter all of these questions and if not the Aurors would have gotten it out of him. Peter was always such a scaredy rat, he would cave under the pressure and give them an explanation. Remus wouldn’t be surprised to learn the story from tomorrows paper.

Amanda sniffled and shivered in his arms, bringing him back to the present moment. He caressed her hair and realized it was still damp from the bath. Considering that and how cold it was outside no wonder she was shivering. She must be freezing with her wet hair. He holds even her closer, willingly sharing what heat he could with her as he walked with haste back to his house.

As her crying calmed down, her sobs were replaced by little hiccups. He patted her back gently, hating how upset she had gotten. It gripped at her heart to see her so hysterical. He could only imagine how scared she was. He would be too if he thought he had to go back to people like the Dursley’s. He was very fortunate, that through all his trials, being a werewolf, coming out to his parents as mis-bodied, they always loved him, always treated Remus with affection and acceptance even when it was hard. His father, especially had difficulty with him being turned. He had held such a deep, discrimination for werewolves before Remus had been attacked. It was why Remus was attacked actually, because of a public inflammatory remark about werewolves that his father made.

When they got back to the house he realized he hadn’t even shut the door behind him. He took his coat from the hanger and through it quickly over Amanda’s shoulders to help warm her up. He could feel her relax when he closed the door behind him, sealing in the heat of the house.

“Remus, is that you?” he winced at the call of Dumbledore’s voice from the lounge and Amanda flinched and started to whine.

He had not disconnected the floo connection before chasing after the little girl.

“No, Mooney, no!” Amanda shrieked in his ear at the sound of the soft voice of the headmaster. She did not see him from where her face was pressed into his shoulder but she clearly thought he was inside the house, waiting for them, ready to snatch her and take her away. “Don’t let ‘im take me!”

Remus began to soothingly shush her, quietly reassuring her, “I wont.”

“Look around, it’s ok. He’s not here in the house, so he can’t take you away. It’s magic.”

He held her close and walked into the lounge, looking down at Dumbledore face’s flickering in the flames.

“Look,” he tried to encourage her, nodding his chin at the fire in the hearth.

Amanda glanced quickly over her shoulder at the flames, squinting at the face in the flickering, orange and red light of it.

“Hello, Miss Potter,” Dumbledore tried a kindly greeting, smiling, but it did nothing to make Amanda any less frighten. She didn’t give a reply, instead she whimpered and pressed her face back into the crook of his neck, clawing at his back a little in fright. He bit his cheek to keep from hissing. Her nails were long.

“Apologies, Headmaster but we will have to continue this conversation tomorrow. You are welcome to visit us in the afternoon, if you would like,” Remus offered politely, a closed fist running up and down Amanda’s spine in an attempt to comfort and calm her down. It always worked when Sirius did it for him after a transformation or when he was anxious over a test.

“This is rather important, I would say, so yes I would like to stop by for a chat to resolve the matter. What time would be convenient for you and Miss Potter, Remus?” Dumbledore said.

Remus suggested Dumbledore come by at eleven in the morning for them to talk. Both agreed it was a reasonable time and that this was a very important issue they needed to work out. 

“Just to warn you, no matter what you have to say tomorrow, Amanda is not going back to those people,” he then promptly asked that Dumbledore remove his head so he might end the call.

The man did not try to make any further arguments for the night and instead conceded to leave things as is, wishing them a good night before his face disappeared from the flames. Their was a sizzle and a snap, the sound from the fire signaling the connection was cut off completely.

He stared at the fire for a little, hoping it’s heat would help Amanda to get warmer faster and thought about what he was going to do. He didn’t believe himself suited to raise a child. He could barely take care of himself most days. He had little money, moved from place to place when he couldn’t keep down a career because of his condition. What if he forgot the date, what if he hurt Amanda. He couldn’t offer a stable and safe home for her. That was why he would rather try and find someone else to take her in, someone he could trust, who would love and accept Amanda for all that she was. She deserved that, every child deserved that. How Dumbledore could think it was the right thing to do, the best thing for Amanda, was giving her back to the Dursley’s was beyond his understanding.

“He’s gone now, little fawn,” he assured her, urging her to look up and see for herself. After another minute of coaxing she did and she deflated with relief in his arms when she saw nothing but normal, writhing flames.

“Who was that?” she asked as he carried her across to the kitchen.

“That was the headmaster of Hogwarts, The school your parents and I attended together.” he started with the simplest explanation.

“How was his face in the fire?” she smiled at the return of her curiosity. He took that as a good sign.

“Wizards and witches don’t really use telephones. We have something called the flu network that connects are homes like a phone line but through our fire places,” he told her as he set her down in a chair.

“How does it work,” she had her mothers mind. Lily was so smart, so clever. She liked to understand the science behind magic and certain spells. It was why she liked potions and excelled in the subject. Because potions was chemistry. Yet she never ceased to be amazed my magics miracles.

“Well, we use what's called floo powder to start the call. We say the name or address of the place we are trying to contact and then throw the floo powder in the fireplace. Once the connection is made between the two placed you put your face in the fire—no, it doesn’t burn. Not when you use floo powder—and you can see into the other persons home and talk with them.”

“But floo powder is expensive, so most witches and wizards just write letters that send by owl post,” he finished.

Amanda’s face transformed into an expression of confusion when he mention the owls. “Owls?”

He nodded. “We tried postman on brooms but with muggle technology they became more easier to spot and wizards and witches need to stay a secret to muggles, for there safety and our own.”

Amanda’s youth-fueled curiosity had not been quenched and she followed with another question. “Why do we have to be a secret?”

“Because muggles, they become very afraid and violent towards things they have difficulty understanding.” at this he could see a grim understanding come over her features. Her eyes downcast and lips in a knowing frown.

“Like my uncle, when I told him I was a girl?” she supplied.

“Yes,” he sighed. She would eventually have to be taught a more in-depth history of that statue of secrecy and how it is possible to live along side muggles. Usually for muggle-borns a pamphlet is sent to the parents when they get their letter to Hogwarts, or a teacher makes a house call to explain things to the family and child if they have a particularly difficult time understanding or accepting that their child was magical. “that not to say all muggles are as intolerant as your uncle.”

Amanda just got stuck with the worst kind of muggles. He hated that was her impression on non-magical people and hoped that didn’t affect her views of them when she got older.

“This has all been quite a lot to handle. For the both of us. Why don’t we have some hot cocoa?” he smiled and stepped back, but he didn’t get far as Amanda had grabbed onto his shirt.

He looked at her hand, her little fist trembling. He wasn’t sure if it was because she was still cold or because she was scared. He put his hand over hers, amazed how his one palm could entirely engulf her fist. It made him think of the first time he saw her after she was born. She was small and looked as delicate as a flower petal, like she would bruise as the smallest pressure. Remus had been terrified to hold her. So afraid he would hurt her, hold her the wrong way or god forbid drop her. He couldn’t shake the fear that holding her would infect her with his disease, and of course he knew that wasn’t possible, it was a completely irrational fear it still held him back. He would go out of his way to avoid holding. It wasn’t until his fifth visit after Amanda was born that Lily and James got him to finally hold their child for the first time. Even Peter held her before him.

Right now, feeling her hand in his, her gentle heat, the soft strength in that fist he thought he wished he had just held her that very first time Lily and James offered him the honor. Wished that he had been braver. Wished that he had tried to find her to check in on her instead of leaving her to those people for so long, all by herself. Even if he couldn’t take her from them, maybe just visiting could have made a difference in her life.

He took a breath and tried not to start crying out of self pity. It had done him no good all these years and it won't start helping now. He needed to reassure Amanda, not pity himself. “It’s alright. I’m just going to heat the milk,”

She nodded and slowly let go and sat silently where he put her but he could feel her eyes following him. He took out a medium saucepan and poured some milk in, lighting the stovetop to a medium flame. While the milk got hot he took out the heavy cream and the sugar, still following the recipe that Sirius had taught him. It was the french way of making Hot Chocolate, a rare, treat in the household of the house of Black. Once the cream and sugar was mixed well with the milk and it started to bubble, he turned of the heat. Working quick, he took out the dark chocolate he reserved just for this recipe and with a quick spell it was cut into fine pieces that he then dumped into the still-hot milk and stirred it until it was all evenly melted in and at a nice consistency of thickness.

Carefully, he poured the drink into two mugs for them and brought it over to the table.

“Enjoy,” he encouraged as he placed the drink in front of her. Hopefully, it was sweet enough for her.

He watched her blow at the surface of the drink before taking a careful sip. Her eye widened and glowed before she took an eager, second sip.

“Do you mind if I check on the scrape you got on your knee?” he asked, letting his own drink get cold so he could focus on her needs. She just nodded, too absorbed in the deliciousness of her drink to pay him or her new wound much care.

He took a look and saw to his relief that it was a minor injury. It just needed a sanitizing spell and probably a band-aid. He was sure he had one somewhere in the house.

“This might sting, just a little,” he warned as he got out his wand and cast the spell to clean off the scrape. She flinched just a little, but she quickly took to her hot chocolate to comfort her.

When he took his seat again, her eyes were steadily locked onto him, her cup almost completely depleted now and a chocolate mustache lining the top of her lip.

“Does this mean, you’ll let me stay with you? Forever?” It’s such a naive assumption, a child hope and perspective of a bad situation that she hopes will turn out for the best. And it’s a thought. He won’t deny considering it, because for a minute, he does think about keeping her. But he starts to think about other things, like how she deserves so much better than him.

Amanda deserves someone whole and healthy, who can provide for her and give her the support and affection she needs. Remus can’t do that. He’s a miserable, destitute sod and he doesn’t want to let her down more than he has to. Sometimes he thinks it was a miracle that James and Sirius had befriended him at all, or that Lily had been so kind and supportive of him.

“Mooney?” his lips twitch, how he had longed for so long to be called by that name again, to hear James, Sirius or Peter call out for him. It was impossible to be called that name and not remember those Halcyon days at Hogwarts with the Marauders. Maybe it was a mistake telling her she could call him that. His heart ached too much and he was afraid any moment he was going to start crying in front of her.

He swallowed and composed himself.

“You can stay with me,” he hated how big her smile got, that hope in her eyes, the excitement. “For a little while. Just until I get in touch with some people and find you a better home.”

He didn’t look at her, instead, he kept his eyes on the scrape on her knee. He didn’t want to see the way her face was certainly crumbling with disappointment and rejection. He was a real bastard, a coward and he knew it.

“As you can see, my house isn’t fit for a child and I’m afraid I don’t have the money to take care of you properly. But I swear you go won't back to the Dursley’s,” he did look up at her now. “Never them. I’ll find you someone else, someone better to stay with,”

“But I want to stay with you,” she said in small voice, eyes watering once more with tears. It was amazing how much a child was capable of crying.

“Amanda, you barely know me, you don’t--”

“I also won’t know these other people,” she cut him off and he supposed she had a fair point.

“Please, you can tell me stories about my mum and dad, and you’re also like me, and---and please just keep me,” Amanda was begging him now and it was breaking his heart.

She was out of her seat now and had grabbed his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, her eyes watering again with tears. “I don’t mind about the house, really I don’t. And I don’t take much room or need much to eat, I can also cook and clean for you. And I don’t have to go back to school. Please, please, I want to stay with you!”

The pictures he had found earlier sat heavy in his pocket and he reached out to take one out, staring at the faces of James and Lily. They were smiling in the moving photo, looking at each other, faces alight. It was from the summer after they graduated Hogwarts, they were in the Leaky Cauldron, having dinner. They all had a mug of butterbeer, excited about the rest of their lives. Not long after that the war really kicked up, friends from school were turning up murdered by death eaters and Lily was pregnant.

James and Lily would have surely been happier if Amanda was raised by a close friend, than some stranger or acquaintance they barely knew. If things had been different, it would have been Sirius taking care of Amanda as her godfather. And now, he was going to finally have a trial, he might be released and come looking for Amanda. He might want to take care of her himself if he was sane enough after what he’s been through. It was worrisome, but that could still be months until things were cleared up and Amanda still needed to stay with someone. Someone she knew, who cared about her.

He thought about what Amanda said, about being able to tell her stories about her parents, and helping her through her journey through being mis-bodied. Remus put himself down so much sometimes he felt like it was impossible for a person like him to be loved or contribute anything good to anyone else life. But Amanda believed in him, she wanted to stay with him.

"Please, Mooney. Remus, let me stay with you." those pleading eyes, her begging tone, it was too much. He closed his eyes. Tried to think.

He would have to make some serious changes if he did what he was considering doing. Money was the biggest issue. He knew James and Lily would have left their vault to Amanda, and he wouldn’t need to take a lot, just enough for her living expenses until he found a better job. He could ask his parents to watch Amanda when he was at work and when he had to be out on the full moon. He was also going to have to enroll her in a school. He thought it might be good for her to continue a muggle education until Hogwarts.

If he could make these changes, would it really be alright to have her stay with him?

Taking a deep breath he put the photo back in his pocket.

“If..if you want to stay with me, I understand,” his heart stuttered when he saw the look of excitement come over her face. “But it’s not that easy. I’m--”

He steeled himself. “I’m a werewolf. And werewolves are not seen in a very kind light. It can make things difficult and once a month I would have to go away because being near me can be dangerous,”

That seemed to stump her, her face pinched and she seemed to be in deep thought.

“Dudley’s friend, Peers, he says that happens to his sister. She gets really mad at the end of the month and eats all their ice cream. Is that what you mean?” she inquired innocently and he knew exactly what it was she was talking about. He was sure his cheeks were turning pink. Lucky for him he had started taking his potions before he ever had to experience his menstrual cycle, he could only imagine the unstoppable beast he might have been if the two ever overlapped.

“Sort of, but not quite.” he offered with a humored smile before clearing his throat with another sip of hot cocoa.

“I can stay with a neighbor during that time, the Dursley’s often had me go to Mrs. Figgs house if they were going out for the day and didn’t want to take me, or went on a trip to visit Uncle Vernon’s sister.” she offered a solution to what she assumed was the problem.

“I’m sure I could have my parents watch you, so that’s not the problem. It’s that some people think all werewolves are dangerous and they might not want me to raise you.” he tried to explain as best he could. He wanted Amanda to know that there were a chance things wouldn’t turn out how they would like and so she would still have to live with someone else. He rather that they don’t go through the Ministry channels to transfer custody from Petunia to him but if Dumbledore was insistent that Amanda returns to the Dursley’s then he might have no choice. Dumbledore would be the pin in this if it came down to it.

Going to the Ministry would be a risk he would have to be willing to take. If the Ministry got involved and denied him custody he couldn’t imagine they would have her go back to her muggle relatives. Not after she testified what the Dursley’s had done to her. Her uncle specifically. They would likely find alternate guardians for her and she would wind up in the spotlight for a long while. Something she had been luckily spared living with the Dursley’s. Another reason why he would rather to do this under the table as best they could. It would be an easier transition for Amanda rather than the over-complicated mess it could become if the Ministry was involved. If Dumbledore had any good sense and cared about Amanda at all, he wouldn’t fight him too hard over this.

Amanda was confused by what he was saying. Of course she was. She was just a child, she wouldn’t understand the politics about werewolf rights and treatment.

“Either way, I just wanted you to know it might be a bumpy road we have ahead of us to convince people to let me take care of you,” he said, feeling rather tired from the day. “But I will fight for you, every step of the way.”

Amanda wrapped her arms around him and squeezed as tight as she could, head resting on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered and his stomach fluttered and warm happiness spread through him, a sense of content peace washing over him that he hadn’t felt in some time.

“Ah, we still have to see to that hair of yours,” he said, patting her between the shoulders. She released him and went back to her chair, sitting so that her back was out. He got the jelly from his other pocket but before he opened it he took the photos out and handed them to her. He told her she could look through them while he tried to manage her hair. She took them happily and he smirked at her loud gasp, noticing they were moving. She held them up, turned them over, trying to understand.

“Magical photos aren’t like muggle ones, ours moves. Paintings too, some of them at least,” he said as he rubbed the petroleum jelly between his palms before starting to slide it through her hair.

“These are them,” her voice was a whisper as if she was afraid if she spoke too loud it would somehow startle the photograph. “my mum and dad,”

He looked over her shoulder at which picture she had in front of her, it was the one that Sirius had taken of James and Lily during their seventh year, They had fallen asleep together against a tree by the lake. There was a breeze rustling Lily’s loose hair and James glasses slid down his nose. He wondered if she was whispering because she thought she somehow would wake them.

“She had red hair,” Amanda studied their faces, their colors, the angles of their faces, drinking them in. This might be the first look Amanda had of her parents since she lost them. She was so young, she probably didn’t even remember what they looked like. “She was pretty,”

“So are you,” Remus told her, working at a particular difficult clump of hair. He was careful not to yank or hurt her. “I think I said this before, but you have your mum’s eyes. If you look through the rest, you’ll see she has green eyes like you. And the shape is also similar.”

She flipped to the next picture but it wasn’t of just her mum and dad, this one was the picture they had taken on their graduation from Hogwarts. Remus, Sirius, Peter were all there with Lily and James squeezed in the middle. They were looking at each other knowingly, James having told them just before the picture he was planning on proposing to Lily.

"They loved you so, so, very much, Amanda," To his great amazement, Amanda still had tears left to cry. Her shoulders were shaking and she was trying to be quiet, but he could hear her sniffles, see the tears dripping off her cheek, just missing the photos as Amanda moved them to avoid getting them wet. "Thank you. Thank you, Mooney,"

"Of course. I'm just sorry, you weren't told until today how much you were loved by them. That they would have gone to the ends of the world to keep you safe."

He kept waiting for her to ask about the other people, but she didn’t seem all that interested to know. Her whole focus was on her mum and dad in the pictures and he was quite relieved not to have to tell her about Sirius and Peter just yet. He let her go through them without further interruption on his part, too occupied with the task at hand. Her hair was not easy to get through with just his fingers. He would need to get a proper comb and brush.

When he felt the job he had done was good enough he tried at a braid, transfiguring a loose thread from his trouser into a hair tie. It wasn’t a very pretty braid, but it would do to help her hair stay tangle-free through the night. When he was done tying it and went back to his seat he sipped quietly at his hot cocoa while hers went cold as she looked through the photos over and over and over.

Her face got brighter and brighter, eyes wistful, filled with longing but also happy the longer she looked at the photos. He was happy he was able to give her this little piece of her parents. Even if it was just their faces. And he would eventually like to tell her more about them as well. He was sure he could think up a few stories she would like to hear.

They sat in silence for an hour at most before she let out her first yawn. Remus pulled out his pocket watch to see what time it was. It was a quarter past eight, and Amanda was seven. Would this be an appropriate time for her to be sent to bed?

That was another thing he would need to work on. He was the adult, he was going to need to set rules and boundaries for Amanda if he was going to be raising her from now on.

“It’s probably good if we try to get you on a schedule again, sleep-wise. Sleeps important for children,” he said, feeling a fool for the uncertainty lacing his tone. She looked up at him, the first time since he gave her the photos. “I set up the spare room for you,”

He waited for her reaction, waiting to see if she might try to argue staying up a little longer. He would probably allow it, just for tonight. He was honestly surprised she wasn’t more tired after such an exhausting day.

She looked at the photos, then back to him.

“You can keep those if you want,” he said, pointing to the pictures she had spread out over the table between them so she could look at them all.

“Are you sure?” she asked, frowning.

He nodded and just asked that once tucked in she didn’t stay up all night looking at them. They would still be here in the morning for her. She agreed and gathered them all up, slipping off her chair and waiting for him to show her the way.

He lead her up the stairs to the spare room at the other end of the hall and asked her to wait a moment. He got the afghan his mother gave him when he first went off to Hogwarts and brought it to her room. He laid it on the bed for her and encouraged her to get into bed if she was ready. She stared at the bed as if it was the most amazing things she’s ever seen. He was a little worried about its comfort level since it was a transfigured bed rather than a store-bought mattress.

“The only bed I’ve ever slept in was at the hospital,” she said as she got under the blanket, her body deflating as she laid down, her eyes already starting to droop.

“You didn’t have a bed at the Dursley’s?” he asked her, lifting the afghan up to her chin.

She shook her head and told him about the cupboard under the stairs. She slept on a crib mattress from when her cousin was a baby and had a thin pillow and an old, itchy blanket. Remus took a long inhale through his nose, trying to calm himself. Just one more reason to explain why Amanda could not return to the Dursley’s, not that any new reasons were needed.

“Well, you’ll always have a real bed to sleep in from now on,” he promised her and wondered if it would be appropriate if he kissed her forehead. He decided it might be too soon for that. Instead, he asked if she would like a night light of some kind or if she would like him to leave the door open.

“I’m not afraid of the dark,” she told him and he smiled. Such a brave little girl she was.

“Would you like me to tell you a story, or sing you a lullaby? Though I must warn you, I’m not a very good singer,” he offered and she giggled and shook her head.

“Not tonight,” she grinned and then yawned, tucking the photos from earlier beneath her pillow. “Maybe tomorrow,”

“Aright then,” He told her where his room was and if she needed anything to just knock on his door. Then he wished her a good night and left her to try and get some sleep.

After leaving Amanda for the night, Remus got out his parchment and quill and wrote two letters, one to his job letting them know he had a family emergency and would not be able to come in tomorrow. He sent it by flu since the hour was late and he wanted to give enough notice, it would be there for the first-morning shift to find. The second letter was to Mary McDonald, explaining the situation and asking if she could come over as soon as possible tomorrow morning to examine Amanda. That one he did not send by floor. Instead, Remus went out the side door to his owl. He tied the letter to Rosamund’s leg, rubbing just beneath her beak and thanking her for the late-night work before sending her off.

On his way back in he grabbed the clothes that he had put out to dry and brought them back into the house, folding them and thinking about what he was going to do. Tomorrow Dumbledore will arrive and Remus needed to be ready. The Headmaster was a good and powerful person and well respected in the wizarding community with a great deal of influence. He knew Dumbledore to be wise so it wasn’t going to be easy to convince a man who was usually right about things that he was wrong, and that he didn’t know best when it came to Amanda. That he had made a mistake placing Amanda with the Dursley’s.

He wanted to believe that once Dumbledore chose to really listen to him than he would see sense in never allowing Amanda to go back to the Dursley’s. Or so he hoped. Otherwise, he tried to tell himself he was mentally prepared to go against Dumbledore. It was hard to put into words, but there was something about Dumbledore that was dangerous. Not in the sense of his magical prowess or his influence but his character.

He was dangerously persuasive and charming. He didn’t notice it when he was younger, or maybe he had, maybe he just wanted so desperately to belong that he ignored the instinct. Sirius never ignored it. He used to say that Dumbledore put him on edge, like his kindness was just a front. He didn’t trust Dumbledore as others did.

That was another thing he needed to think about. Sirius.

He didn’t kill Peter.

Peter was alive. Had been living as his animagus this entire time with the Weasley family as a pet. Peter, who they had all thought dead, destroyed but for a finger by Sirius was alive. If it was a matter of hiding from Sirius or Death Eaters why wouldn’t he just come forward when Sirius was arrested, or when the war was over and You-Know-who was destroyed. It didn’t make sense.

Remus started to think on the news articles after Sirius’ arrest and the statements he gave. He had been found by the aurors in a fit of hysterical laugher, muggles all around him dead and Peter’s little finger found, the rest of his body missing. He didn’t believe it at first, but Dumbledore said the proof was all there to see, it had to have been Sirius and that it was best to let it go and Remus listened to him like a fool.

Remus had always just assumed that Sirius had to have been the secret keeper for Lily and James when they went into hiding with Amanda. They were all close, but Sirius was James’ very best mate, as close as brothers. It was unthinkable to consider Peter because he was just too soft. He would have broken easily under torture. But what if that was part of the plan? What if without him knowing they made Peter the secret keeper. Because no one would have ever suspected shy, meek, soft Peter Pettigrew could keep a secret, they would have gone for Sirius or even Remus. Not Peter. Which made him the perfect secret keeper because no one expected it to be him.

Sirius would have known this, he would have told the Aurors when he was arrested. If he knew it was Peter who had given up James and Lily, if he knew it was Peter that killed the muggles, that he had escaped as an animagus he would have told them. But there was no quotes, or mention of Sirius saying such a thing. The Ministry, the papers, they all said he did it and everyone believed it because even if Sirius said he wasn’t the traitor, even if they published what he told them about Peter being an animagus, killing those muggles, it didn’t matter because all they could find of Peter was a finger and Sirius was the convenient person involved to make a villain. A secret death eater all this time, no good just like the rest of his family.

But Peter...weak, Peter...what if he was too weak. Weak enough to help the death eaters in exchange for his life. No, no, Remus didn’t want to believe it but the more he thought about it…

Peter’s instinct was to gravitate to the strongest person around and in school that was James. But after school, when the war hit its peak, when they had to go their own ways, what if Peter lost any courage that James gave him? Without James to protect him, or even Sirius or himself, Peter could have felt backed into a corner. Got scared, scared enough to switch sides to save his own neck if he was offered an out. He sold James, Lily, and Amanda out to He-who-must-not-be-named.

Unlike Sirius, Peter didn’t come from a family of death eaters and pure-blood fanatics. Peter wasn’t strong or smart enough to go through the trials of being an animagus, didn’t have the stomach to kill anyone. It was easier to believe it was Sirius because of his family background, his disregard for the rules, his temper. It made Sirius an easy scapegoat for Lily and James. But they never went through with the conviction, never gave Sirius a trial where even the worst of death eaters, even Bellatrix Lestrange, had a trial. Because the Ministry, the Wizenmagot even, knew that Sirius could be innocent after what he told them but didn’t want to bother with an investigation. They wanted it all over. The death, the war, the trials. So they cut corners.

They jailed Sirius with no conviction for six years.

Remus sunk to his knees, holding on to the edge of the table as his vision blurred from the hot tears gathered in his eyes. It started getting hard to breathe. It was so obvious now what the truth was.

How could he have been so blinded by his own grief to not see? Everyone else believed the story the press gave so he did too, just like that. Dumbledore believed it, so he believed it. But what if Dumbledore knew, he was the leader of the Wizenmagot. He should have believed Sirius. He knew what type of person he was, how thick Sirius and James were, like brothers. Why didn’t he pry harder into the details, look into Sirius's story? But he didn’t. He let them throw Sirius into Azkaban without a trial. If Dumbledore had come to him, asked about Peter being an animagus, if he thought it was possible to believe Peter could have been the traitor then Remus would have realized this all much sooner. But he hadn’t. And Remus, he was so tired, so lonely and heartbroken and in shock, he didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t question Dumbledore or the Ministry, didn’t try to see Sirius. He was just as much at fault as they were for Sirius being locked away.

He had loved Sirius for so many years and yet he had believed what everyone said about him. He was such an awful person.

He ran a hand through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp rather harshly so that it stung. He pulled it back, clutching at the edge of the table, and dug his nails into the wood instead. He sucked in a breath, felt the wolf clawing at his heart and his lungs. Wanting to scream to tear, to destroy without thinking. It was more powerful, more alive in these moments of emotional distress. His skin itched like he wanted to shift and his spine ached.

He knew that tonight wasn’t a full moon, not for another two weeks, but he still found himself rushing to the window and looking up at the sky. Just to make sure the moon was a crescent. Only then did he feel himself relax. He walked backward from the window, not stopping till the back of his thighs hit the table and he leaned back on it and let out a big gust of air. He wiped his eyes. Remus hadn’t realized until not that he had still been crying.

It was better this way. Best get it all off his chest so it didn’t distract him from caring for Amanda as it had in caring for himself. Confronting these feelings tonight would be a start to getting better. He was a smart enough man to know that. And he needed to be better to take care of Amanda.

Looking at his pocket watch he thought he had some time still before going to bed. He decided he would try and tidy up the lounge for his guests tomorrow. He used what cleaning spells he knew to get the tougher spots though there were some spells that could only do so much. He wondered if they might need to move. Amanda said she didn’t mind the condition of his home, but she had been living on the streets, so she was happy just to have a roof over her head. He would have to come back to that thought.

When he was done he went back to the kitchen and cleaned the cups and used a spell to reheat Amanda’s hot coco to finish himself. He didn’t like chocolate to go to waste.

Then he looked into the fridge and was relieved to see he had eggs, and he had bread for toast. He could make Amanda breakfast but they might have to go get more groceries since it wasn’t just him anymore and he would need to start her on a proper diet. He was sure Mary or the healers at St. Mungo’s could offer him some suggestions to help her regain her weight, some potions for quick nutrients and protein if possible.

Once he was done he took the clothes from earlier and brought them upstairs. He knocked gently on Amanda’s door in case she was still awake but he received no answer so he cracked the door and looked in. She was sound asleep it appeared and was hanging half off the bed. Gently, he tiptoed in and placed her clothes on the bedside table for her before taking her calf and bringing it back up on the bed, pulling the afghan back over her. Then he took a moment and just looked at her. She looked so peaceful and he grinned at the little bit of drool at the corner of her mouth. She got that from her father, he drooled too. Sirius always complained when James would fall asleep on his shoulder after a late-night adventure or an all-night study session.

He was going to leave when he noticed one of the photographs he had given Amanda slipped from under her pillow. It was the one of James and Lily under the tree. He should think about getting some frames for them so that Amanda could put them up in her room.

He looked at his friend's faces, his heart aching. He missed them both so much.

“I promise you, Jame and Lily. I’ll take care of her, I’ll protect her.” He then put pushed the photo gently back where it had been and left Amanda to her dreams. He hoped they were good ones.

Chapter Text

Living at the Dursleys and then on the streets meant that Amanda was an early riser. She had often been woken up by her aunt in the morning, before Uncle Vernon and Dudley got up to help with breakfast and morning chores and when she was homeless waking up early was paramount for not getting caught.

As she stirred awake, the feel of the soft mattress beneath her confused her and she had to focus on remembering where she was as she took in her new surroundings. Quick enough, it came back to her. She recalled meeting Remus the day before on the street, being taken to a shop, and what they talked about before he invited her to come to his home and what followed after that. She had run out when she heard Remus talking to someone about her having to go back to the Dursley’s. Remus had chased her and promised that he wouldn’t let that happen and that he would fight for her to stay with him.

There was another thing too she had learned, something else to be excited about. Magic was real. Remus told her she was a witch just like her mum had been. She wasn’t a freak at all. There was a name for her feelings and odd ability to make things happen around her, she was simply a mis-bodied witch and Remus was going to help her. He was going to take care of her. It wouldn’t be like the Dursleys. Remus would be kind to her and give her a real home.

She pulled looked at the pictures of her parents again that Remus had given her the night before. Amanda was going to get to hear all kinds of stories now about her parents, and every day she would have these pictures so she could see their faces. Gently throwing the afghan from her body she got out of the bed and went to the window. The sun was so bright today. She couldn’t remember ever seeing a sunnier day. The birds seemed to sing louder too as they welcomed the start of a brand new day. It was as if she had entered into a fairy tale, and she was the princess that had finally been rescued by the knight in shining armor and whisked away to her happily ever after. The evil dragons and witch far behind her now.

Amanda had the sudden urge to twirl, to dance, and so she did. She spun like a ballerina’s she had seen on the television. She let out a string of giggles and twirled until she was dizzy. She leaned against the wall, catching her breath, her face hurting from smiling. She was just so happy. She took the moment to look around the room. Her room. Hers. It was a real bedroom, not a cupboard under the stairs. A room with a window and a bed and furniture. She could put up pretty posters, put flowers in the window and Remus wouldn’t get mad at her. He understood.

She hurriedly put on her now clean and mended clothes, wanting to start her day as soon as possible. She wondered what they would do? Would she get to learn magic, would she hear more stories about her parents? There was so much she wanted to know, to do.

Leaving her room Amanda went to the bathroom right outside her door to the right. She washed her face and borrowed a little of Remus’s toothpaste, squeezing a strip onto her finger and then scrubbing over her teeth before spitting and rinsing. She would have to ask for her own toothbrush. She took her hair out from the plait Remus had put it in and combed through the thick waves with her fingers. That is after she washed the excess toothpaste from her fingertip. When she was done she gave herself a huge grin in the mirror. She liked who she saw. She looked like she thought she should look. A happy girl. And now that she had finally seen what her parents looked like she could see how she resembled them. Her complexion was a lighter brown than her father's, but she had his thick black hair and maybe his nose. Her eyes were the same color as her mum’s and she had her chin and cheeks too. Her heart thrummed almost painfully in her chest and her skin tingled as she skipped off downstairs, waving goodbye at her reflection as if she half expected it might wave back.

She went down the stair quietly, but she stumbled as she rounded the bend into the kitchen. Remus was already up, sitting quietly at the table, a mug of coffee between his hands. He had a very thoughtful, almost worrying look on his face that made Amanda panic for a moment.

Oh no, had he changed his mind about letting her stay?

When he saw her he gave her a warm smile, his green eyes crinkling at the corners while he turned the newspaper he had onto its face. She swore she saw the picture of the front page moving, just like the photographs of her parents. It looked like a man with long hair, snarling at the camera as he was restrained.

Amanda had nothing to fear, he hadn’t been regretting his choice to take her in. It was another matter that had him so deep in thought. The Daily Prophet had arrived that morning and the front page news was coverage about Peter and Sirius. Peter had confessed to being the secret keeper for the Potters and had killed all those muggles. Sirius had been the only other to know that Peter was the Secret Keeper and when he discovered Lily and James dead he had made a chase after Peter, nearly catching him but he had become his animagus and escaped and had stayed in hiding, waiting for the Dark Lords return.

Sirius was innocent of all crime regarding the incident and a review was being scheduled to discuss Sirius release into society. Along with the review, an internal investigation would also be happening to understand why Sirius didn’t receive a proper trial and yet was imprisoned all the same for the crimes he had only been suspected of have committed. It went on to suspect corruption and foul play at the time of the arrest in the Ministry and questioning why a reverse charm hadn’t been used on either Peter or Sirius’s wands to prove who in fact caste the destructive spell that left a crater in the middle of the road and killed those muggles.

He could have spent the whole day thinking about what the article said and about Sirius and Peter but he needed to let it go for the time being. There would be time later to face it all. Right now he needed to give Amanda his attention.

She looked refreshed despite the early hour she had woken. He hadn’t heard a sound from her room last night either to make him suspect she had anything else but an undisturbed slumber. He hoped she had a restful sleep at least, as they would have a big day ahead of them and she would require the energy.

Remus himself had woken earlier than normal, preparing in his head and also on paper a few times what he was going to say to Dumbledore. He had also been thinking about what Mary was going to think when she came by to examine Amanda. He had gotten a letter with his copy of the paper from Mary, saying she would be by at ten. That meant he would only need to wait an hour for Dumbledore, which worked out perfectly because Mary could be there to give her professional report to Dumbledore herself on Amanda’s injuries.

“Good morning, Amanda” he greeted.

It was a relief to see his sleepy smile. Amanda thought he seemed happy to see her, nothing like the irritation the Dudley's always had for her just being in their house. She had been worrying over nothing. She had to have a little faith in him.

“Good morning, Mr. Lupin,” she said, forgetting that he had asked her to call him either Remus or Mooney at first before catching his frown. “Oops. I mean, good morning, Remus,”

His smile returned.

“I hope you slept well,” he added, remembering how she had a leg halfway off the bed when he checked in on her last night.

Amanda nodded with a smile, not wanting to tell him that it was a bit hard at first to sleep. She didn’t want him to think she was complaining about the bed or anything. It was just odd to lay on something so comfortable after so long of being used to the very opposite. If she hadn’t been so tired, it might have taken her even longer to fall asleep last night. She told herself she just needed to give it more time and soon she would be able to fully appreciate the comfort of her bed and fall asleep without issues.

“I’m glad. I wasn’t so sure about the comfort level of a transfigured bed,” he said, feeling embarrassed. There were a lot of things they would need to go shopping for.

Transfiguration was well and good for the bed frame, but she should get a proper mattress. The quality would be better, Remus thought. “We’ll have to get you a real bed soon,”

“Really it was fine. Anything with cushioning feels like sleeping on a cloud now.” she shrugged, taking a seat across from him and refraining from asking after breakfast.

Remus’s hands flexed around his mug and there was a twitch in his jaw as a vein pulsed in his neck as he thought again on how she had been made to sleep in a broom cupboard at her relatives and then worse in cold, hard alleys.

He took his hands from his mug and put them over his face, rubbing at his temples for a second before taking a deep breath and returning his hands around his mug and taking a long, steaming gulp from it. Just one more reason that Remus would not let Dumbledore send her back. Who made a child sleep in a cupboard when there was a spare room in their home. Her relative's complete disregard for Amanda’s comfort was appalling, not that he had need of any more reason to think so. They had already proven enough how little they cared for her from what Amanda had already told him. The Dursley’s truly were despicable people.

Amanda watched as Remus got quietly angry then calmed himself. She hoped he was alright. She didn’t like the way his vein bulged in his neck, it reminded her of Uncle Vernon, but she felt confident that Remus would never hit her, never get mad at her as Uncle Vernon had.

The porcelain mug made a soft little thud as he put it back down on the table.

“Well, now you have a real bedroom like you ought to have had.” he gave her a strained grin that she returned with her own, broad and cheerful one at the confirmation the room she stayed in was really hers. She had assumed but it was good to hear it from him as well.

“Thank you so much, I promise I’ll keep in clean and always make my bed,” she said with determined steel in her eyes.

Remus chuckled when she said that, She was such an eager to please child. It might make things easier for him but he wanted Amanda to be a child, to be a little messy, and know that it was alright to be so. That it wasn’t causing him trouble. He could tell things like that were going to be hard to get through to her and it would probably take time for her to feel assured and comfortable enough to truly behave her age.

“I would appreciate that but I get kids can be a little messy,” he said with another small smile. “We’ll have to get you things for your room first before worrying about you keeping it tidy,”

He stood from the table. Thinking it was time he got breakfast made for the two of them.

“Can I help with breakfast?” she asked, hoping he would be impressed with her initiative to help without needing to be told. She didn’t mind helping with breakfast, and she was getting better at not burning the bacon.

Remus wondered if that was something she was forced to do with the Dursley’s. He had so much more he needed to know about her time with her relatives so he could help her overcome those expectations and insecurities. He frowned for a second before it disappeared and he put on a more neutral expression. “If you would like,”

She followed him up and over to the kitchen counter. He opened the fridge and took out the eggs, handing the carton to her rather than just placing it directly on the counter. She was careful as she held them, making sure not to drop them. He then grabbed the loaf of bread and took out his wand with the other hand, smiling as Amanda watched him expectantly. He wondered how long she would remain impressed with every little spell before she became accustomed to it and stopped reacting at all. He summoned the old toaster he had, a gift from his mother when he had first left home.

“Don’t have much, hope you don’t mind eggs and toast for breakfast today,” he gave her a nervous little smirk and admitted he wasn’t much of a cook, putting his wand down.

“It’s ok, I don’t eat much anyway. And I can cook. I can roast a chicken, and cook bacon and make a salad—“she was happy to help, to do something around the house so he didn’t regret taking her in.

“Roast a chicken?” He asked, looking impressed and upset at the same time. She then told him that her Aunt Petunia often had her help her with dinners and breakfast while Aunt Petunia did other chores. She didn’t understand why that bothered him. Remus turned back to the counter and put the frying pan on the stovetop.

She was too young to be doing things like that. Maybe pour her own cereal or mix a bowl but she shouldn’t be asked to learn how to roast a chicken. If she did enjoy cooking, that was something he was willing to explore with her.

“Well, if you like cooking we can do it together but I won’t be having you make our meals all by yourself. Your, not a house-elf,” he said to her and she had to ask what a house-elf was.

He told her it was a small, magical creature, that tended to keep house for wealthier wizards and witches, some were born into servitude of some families and had been with them for many years. Something about that unsettled Amanda, but she didn’t say so. She had to be careful, she didn’t want to say something offensive by accident and give Remus any reason to change his mind about keeping her. She knew there were things about her that Remus didn’t mind, like her being a girl, but she wasn’t sure about other things. What was considered offensive to wizards? She didn’t know much yet so she should be careful of what she said and try her best to pick up on things as much as possible.

Otherwise, Amanda was looking forward to living with Remus and getting to know each other better.

Remus felt the same, though he was a little more nervous. As an adult, there were many things he would have to take care of for both of them now. But first, they would have to jump their biggest hurdle. Dumbledore.

“I wanted to remind you that we’ll be having guests over later, ” he told her, putting his coffee down on the counter.

Remus, like any Englishman, loved his tea but coffee was the only thing truly able to wake him up in the morning. His shifts at the full moon could exhaust him for weeks and he often would have trouble sleeping. He used to fall asleep in class and Peter would take notes for both of them. Once he even fell asleep during a quidditch match on some poor Ravenclaw’s shoulder. The girl was nice enough not to push him off of her. But let him rest until the match was over and his friends had come to take him away. Once he had fallen asleep on the moving staircase on the way back to the dorms after a particularly difficult full moon. He had been leaned against the marble railing, found later by Lily who woke him up, concern etched on her face and ready to diagnose him with narcolepsy. Eventually, a muggle-born student in his 7^th year recommended coffee to his underclassman, told him the name of a house-elf in the kitchen that if asked could get him coffee in the morning.

It worked like magic for Remus. There was still residual drowsiness, but at least he was able to walk to his first-class without having one of his friends having to lead him like a sleepy puppy.

“The man in the fireplace, he’s coming? The one that wanted to send me back to the Dursley’s?” she asked with a disapproving sniff.

Remus didn’t blame her after last night.

“Yes, Albus Dumbledore. He'll be our first guest. He’s a very important and powerful wizard. He was also the one who placed you with the Dursley’s after your mum and dad died. Though I am sure it was with the best intention, to keep you with family and protect you,” he told her, though he couldn't truly say he knew all of that for a fact. He had an idea of why Dumbledore did what he did, it didn't excuse that he hadn't noticed or chose to ignore how Amanda had been treated. But he was trying to keep his voice neutral. Dumbledore had made a terrible mistake but he was not an evil person.

“I don’t think I’m going to like him very much then,” she mumbled and Remus tried to think of the best way to respond. Dumbledore would be her headmaster when she went to school, not that he thought her bias toward him would be something Dumbledore would hold against her, he was still worried about this first impression she had of him now.

Perhaps Amanda had a right to resent Dumbledore, to mistrust him. Most adults would probably rave and praise Dumbledore to the stars and back, and maybe he once might have had a kinder and more respectful view of the man himself to try and share with Amanda but after last night, he couldn’t bring himself to say any such thing to her about the man. Instead, all he could think to say was;

“Well, you can make up your own mind about him when you meet,” Yes, that felt like the right thing to say.

Amanda didn’t think her mind would change very much. Not about the man who thought leaving her with the Dursley’s was a good idea. It was Albus Dumbledore’s fault she had been miserable for all these years, and he never even checked in on her. If he was a wizard, how could he think it was the right thing to leave her with people like her aunt and uncle who hated things like magic. No, she was determined not to like him. She couldn’t forgive him.

"I also invited someone else. Her name is Mary Macdonald. She knew your mother and me at Hogwarts. I would like her to give you a check-up, if that's alright with you," he said, hoping to take her mind of Dumbledore a little. 

"She's a doctor?" Amanda asked, assuming that's what he meant.

"We call our doctors and nurses medi-witches or healers. And yes, she is medi-witch. She's going to look at your arm and where you had surgery and can even with a spell tell us all the other injuries you've had in the past" he knew this was a fairly deep breakfast conversation but it was necessary. 

"It's important she examines you and make a report on how, where, and the number of times you've been hurt. It's will be important in fighting to keep you from returning to the Dursley's," he explained further and watched her nod.

"I don't mind then," she answered, putting the eggs on the toast, her balance with the spatula rather good. “anything not to go back there,”

Once the plates were made they took their seats at the table again with their plates of egg and toast. Remus with his now refilled coffee and Amanda with a glass of milk.

For a few minutes, they ate in silence and Remus thought about what they were going to do that morning.

He had checked his bank book earlier to make sure he would be able to spare some expense for some new clothes for Amanda. He would have to ask Dumbledore if he had custody of Amanda’s vault key for Gringotts, otherwise, he might need to request it from the Ministry during the transfer of custody. And if that took too long he was sure his parents wouldn’t mind sending him some funds if he asked. Which he had never done before, he still had some pride. His dad and mam were always writing and invite him to come back and stay with them or to take some money to help him get by, knowing it was hard to find and maintain work with his condition.

He had already paid his rent and utilities that month, so he didn’t need to worry about that. Things would be tighter than usual after the purchase of some essentials for Amanda, but as long as he kept his job he would be able to afford to stay where they were. He had taken a six-month lease on the property and he had another two months before it was up.

He was sure Amanda would appreciate wearing clothes she hadn’t stolen, that fit her right. He wondered if she would mind terribly if they went to a thrift store. There was a lovely second-hand shop in town that he frequented and had noticed they had a children’s section. He hoped that Amanda wouldn’t care too much that her clothes wouldn’t be brand new. Once he had a little more cash flow he could afford that type of luxury for her.

“We’ll head into town after breakfast, get some groceries and some clothes for you as well. What do you think of that?” he asked with a smile against the rim of his mug.
Amanda eyes lit up. The green was like polished jade, a beautiful contrast against her slightly darker skin tone.

“I can choose my own clothes out? I can get a dress?” she asked, looking ready to bounce out of her seat.

Remus smile grew. He remembered the first time his Mam had taken him shopping. She had ignored all of the questioning and disapproving stares of the Muggle shoppers when she took him to a muggle clothes shop and brought him to the boy's section, smiling and encouraging him to pick out whatever he thought he would be most comfortable in. When his father took him to Diagon Alley they didn’t get half of the same looks his mother and him and had gotten, it wasn’t so uncommon for a child to identify as mis-bodied in their world and was more accepted.

Even when they were whispered about by the muggles, given sneers of disgust, his mams smile never faltered as he complimented his choices and how handsome he looked after trying on the things he liked the most. His father too had been very supportive. Remus thought he had tried double hard to be tolerant and accepting of him as mis-bodied after having been so horrified and distant toward him after it was confirmed that Fenrir Greyback has successfully infected him with Lycanthropy.

“Yes, Amanda. You can pick out a dress or any other clothes you like and feel you’ll be more comfortable wearing. Dresses, skirts or even a pair of jeans,” he told her, wanting her to know she was allowed options.

His own mother personally enjoyed wearing a pair of comfortable cigarette trousers or wide jeans that were popular in the 70's. She would dress a little more conservative for her job. His mother had him at seventeen after meeting his father.

His mam had a whimsical soul and had really enjoyed the youthful energy and self-expression the 70's had promoted at the time. She was very different from his father, who held prejudices against those inflicted with lycanthropy, she didn't understand the danger, and often argued with his father about such things. When Remus was bitten, the falling out his parents had was so terrible, Remus thought they might divorce. She felt that if Lyall, his father, had just shown a little more tolerance, hadn't lost his temper and gone so far as to claim werewolves were all 'souless, evil and deserving of death' Remus might never have been targeted as revenge for his derogatory comment.

It took years for his mother and father to reconcile after he was attacked. His mother became his greatest advocate and supporter, she helped him every step of his transition, always there to hold his hand and was fiercely protective of his status as a werewolf and the harmful stereotypes projected on him.  She was the most incredible muggle that he had ever known and he loved her with all his heart. But no matter how much she loved him and he loved her, Remus couldn't help but always feel ashamed of what he was, and the trouble it brought his family when people found out. S when he got old enough to spare his parents and put distance between them, he moved out. 

He wondered how his mother would react when he told her he had taken in Amanda.

Amanda eyes had gotten teary again, and it looked like she wanted to say something, but instead, she just shoveled down the rest of her eggs, finished off the last few bites of her toast, and chugged her glass of milk.

“Ok, I’m done with my breakfast. Can we go now?” she asked, already out of her chair and ready to go.

Remus couldn’t help himself. After seeing how she had scarfed her food in her eagerness a bubble of laughter escaped him.

Amanda blushed, looking embarrassed but no less excited for their shopping trip.

Choosing to indulge her, Remus left his own breakfast half-finished and took their plates to the sink. Still chuckling he took his wand out and summoned their jackets from the coat hooks. “Alright then, let's go,”

Chapter Text

Hey, everyone!!

First let me say that this story will be continuing. I updated the last two chapters and the newest chapter is in the works.

Second, please check out Stephdelacour on Tiktok. She is amazing. She is a great example of how we as fans can continue to love and express that love for the HP series while addressing all the problems in its writing, the antisemitism, the sexism, and fake feminism, and the failure of proper diversity as a few examples in these funny little skits. 

Now, it's actually one of her videos that have given me the courage to throw out so much of JKR harmful and problematic writing choices, so what you know from the books may not be crossing over into existence in this story.

Some examples:

Gringotts will not be controlled by Goblins. I recognize that Goblins have been depicted with Jewish undertones and not all are exactly subtle or can be taken as positive representation. Did JKR have anti-semitic intent when writing Goblins, I can't say? Personally, no, I don't think that was how she felt about the Goblins, Goblins in general have been described as greedy for jewelry and gold, and I can see how keeping this true of goblins and making them bankers can easily be misconstrued as writing goblins as anti-semitic stereotypes. But that doesn't invalidate the anti-semitic stereotypes so many people, Jewish people specifically, see in JKR's goblins. I still think Goblins can be improved on and written with more diversity. 

This won't be easy, I know a lot of people aren't going to be happy with this change, and might even be more concerned with how exactly am I going to try and accomplish this endeavor. Well, let me tell you. First off, I am going to try and avoid using what can be considered as stereotypical Jewish features in describing the anatomy of Goblins. The nice thing is, like many mythological creatures of folklore, there is no single version of Goblins that I must abide by. This also means that goblins can have more than one career option. I'm going to avoid giving Goblins what could be considered 'notably Jewish occupations' like accounting, finance, medicine, law, or commerce. That's not to say we won't be getting a Goblin banker, Gringotts will still have a few goblin bankers but they won't be the predominant employees of the bank. We are going to see Goblin chefs, shop owners, craftsmen, merchants. The hardest part here is the fact that though I am writing a more tolerant wizarding society, it's not perfect, there is still discrimination and prejudices amongst the species of magical creatures from werewolves to goblins by wizards and witches. and it's important to show that to a degree and use it to spread the message that that is not ok. That we need to care about each other and come together no matter our races/species. 

Obviously, this story is also going to be having more queer representation than the original storyline. We are going to get characters who are transgender, non-binary, that are gay, bisexual, and pansexual for a few examples. 

We are going to have characters with physical and mental disabilities from being paraplegic to autistic. 

More attention will be given to characters of different ethnicities and who celebrate different religions. This brings up another very controversial change I will be making and that is a few of the names of some of the POC characters such as Cho Chang. I truly think it's important to give the same creativity and effort into naming POC characters with respect to their race. We have options. We can have Zhang( a common surname) Chu(Pearl) If we are trying to stay close to the way the original name sounded. There are so many beautiful Chinese names if she is specifically Chinese. And that also draws the question of  "Is her family from Northern or Southern China?"

These two examples are the most prominent changes and what I think is going to cause the most upset. But I have to write according to my conscience.

That is part of the beauty of fanfiction is that we, the fans, the fanfic writers and artists, are not upholden to keep to every single canon detail of the story. I am allowed to change things whether other fans like it or not, I have that right. There is no set of rules in fandom that constrain us nor should there and other fans should not gatekeep us. There are thousands of stories to choose from, and this site specifically has given us the ability to tag our stories so that if you don't like how something has been changed and depicted according to your own beliefs you aren't surprised by it and can move on to a story that better aligns to your own headcanons and such. 

That is all I have to say for now. I'll keep this faux chapter up until I post the next official chapter.

Chapter Text

Hello!

Happy Holidays everyone. I am attempting a return to this story starting with writing a new beginning to it.

I already have the first chapter done and am currently working on proofreading it myself.

This story means a great deal to me, and I am sure I have already discussed that a little in the past.

One of the reasons I stopped writing this fic, was because I was worried that as a Transgender man, rather than a transgender woman I would not be able to write the experience of a transgender girl/woman that felt authentic. Then, I started worrying that because I was going from the angle of the Desi James/Desi Harry headcanon, I was going to do more harm than good being a very white, very American, person who even doing my best to do research and be educated, would still mess up and end up writing stereotypes.

In the end, I made a few changes to be more comfortable proceeding. The character of Harry/Amanda will still be a transgender girl, but it's not going to start off that way. I'm going to build up to Amanda discovering herself, and who she is. It will at first, mostly be through Remus perspective, who shall remain a transgender man.  Harry/Amanda will no longer be desi, or at the very least I'm not going to mention it like I did before. If you think that is a mistake, please let me know, perhaps there is a way I can make it work that I'm just not seeing write now.

I do have some ideas about the Potter family tree right now, one in which involves Euphemia being Greek.

I am very happy with this first chapter, but I am someone who needs feedback and support.

If anyone who has read this fic, truly enjoyed it and would like to either just discuss it, proof read chapters(not necessarily editing, but just to get a first read and give feedback) I would love to hear from and connect with you in whatever manner you feel comfortable. I'm on tumblr mostly, I obviously have an email. Just let me know in the comments and we can take it from there. 

I am very excited about taking this back up. 

That being said, the original chapters are going to be removed shortly and replaced with the new. Take this time to download the original story if you would like before then. Also expect the tags to be changing as well. Not a lot, but some.

I am doing my best to get started on chapter two and can't wait to post chapter One and hear what you all think about the changes.