The Letter
Several days passed, and Harry found himself slowly adjusting to life in the quiet cottage with Remus. It was strange at first—waking up to peace and quiet instead of the sharp, early morning commands of Aunt Petunia or the constant tension of being on edge around the Dursleys. Here, there were no locked cupboards, no glares or insults, and for the first time, Harry felt like he was truly living with someone who cared about him.
Remus had his routines, many of which Harry quickly adapted to. They ate breakfast together every morning, sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes talking about trivial things. Afterward, they would take long walks around the countryside, or Harry would help Remus with small repairs around the house. It was peaceful—almost too peaceful for Harry, who was used to the chaos of life with the Dursleys or the constant bustle at Hogwarts. But it was a peace he was slowly growing to love.
One afternoon, while Harry was sitting in the small living room, flipping through a book on magical creatures that Remus had left out, his dad entered the room with a soft smile on his face.
“Harry,” Remus began, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I was thinking… since you’re settling in nicely here, maybe we could make your room more personal. How do you feel about going into town and looking at some paint colors for your room?”
Harry blinked, lowering the book from his lap. “Paint colors?”
“Yes,” Remus said, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “I thought you might like to pick a color for your room. Something that’s completely yours. We could go to a Muggle hardware store and have a look.”
For a moment, Harry just stared at him, processing the suggestion. No one had ever asked him what he wanted his space to look like—he’d never even had his own room until Hogwarts. His excitement bubbled up quickly, his eyes brightening at the idea.
“I… yeah, I’d love to!” Harry replied, the enthusiasm clear in his voice. “I’ve never… I mean, I’ve never been able to pick something like that before.”
Remus’s smile widened at Harry’s reaction. “Well, let’s get going then. The hardware store isn’t too far, and we’ll have plenty of time to look around.”
Harry quickly pulled on his shoes and followed Remus out the door. The walk to the hardware store was pleasant, the afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the quaint village. Harry found himself glancing around at the peaceful streets, marveling at how different everything felt. No crowds of students or towering stone walls, just quiet cottages and gardens.
As they approached the small hardware store, its worn wooden sign creaking softly in the breeze, Harry felt a flicker of excitement in his chest. He couldn’t remember ever visiting a place like this, and the idea of picking out something as ordinary as paint was strangely thrilling. It made him feel normal, in a way that he hadn’t experienced much before.
The bell above the door jingled as they stepped inside, the smell of fresh wood and paint filling the air. Behind the counter stood an older man with graying hair and a kind smile. He looked up as they entered, his face lighting up in recognition.
“Remus!” the shopkeeper called warmly, his voice echoing through the store. “Haven’t seen you in ages. How’ve you been?”
Remus smiled back, steering Harry toward the counter. “Doing well, Tom. Just been busy, you know how it is.”
Tom’s eyes drifted to Harry, curiosity sparking in them. “And who’s this?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.
“This is Harry,” Remus said calmly, his hand resting lightly on Harry’s shoulder. “My son.”
Tom blinked, clearly taken aback. “Well, I’ll be! Had no idea. Good to meet you, Harry,” he said with a nod, his surprise quickly fading into a warm smile.
Harry nodded back, feeling slightly awkward under the shopkeeper’s scrutiny. Remus, sensing the moment, smoothly shifted the conversation.
“We’re here to look at some paint samples,” Remus said. “Harry’s just moved in, and we’re going to repaint his room.”
Tom’s face brightened at the mention of paint. “Ah, well, you’ve come to the right place! Follow me, and I’ll show you to the paint section. Got all kinds of colors back here. Feel free to take as many samples as you want.”
He led them down an aisle lined with shelves, pulling out a large display of paint swatches that stretched nearly from floor to ceiling. The array of colors was dazzling—shades of blues, greens, reds, and everything in between.
“There you go, Harry,” Tom said, gesturing to the display. “Take your pick. As many as you like.”
Harry stared at the display, feeling almost overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices. He hesitated for a moment, then reached out and started pulling a few of the samples that caught his eye. A deep forest green, a soft grey-blue, a warm cream color—his fingers danced over the swatches, pulling more than he probably needed but enjoying the freedom of choice.
Remus stood by, watching with a small smile as Harry collected the samples. Harry could feel the warmth of his dad’s gaze, the sense of pride and quiet encouragement in every glance. It made the moment even more special, and for the first time in a long time, Harry felt like this—choosing paint for his room—was exactly what he needed.
“Got enough there?” Remus asked with a grin as Harry held up a fistful of samples.
Harry smiled back, feeling a little shy but excited. “Yeah, I think so. Maybe… just one more.” He grabbed another swatch, this time a rich, dark blue.
Tom chuckled. “You’ll have plenty of time to decide. Let me know if you need anything else. Enjoy picking your color!”
Remus thanked Tom, and with a final wave, he and Harry left the shop. The afternoon sun had softened by the time they stepped back onto the quiet street, and the walk back to the cottage felt comfortable. Harry held the paint samples tightly, still marveling at how much his life had changed in such a short time. This small trip, picking out paint colors for his room—it was something he never thought he’d do.
When they reached the cottage, Remus unlocked the door, and they made their way up to Harry’s room. Harry had barely set the stack of paint samples on the bed before Remus pulled out his wand, giving it a casual flick.
"Let’s get these up on the wall so you can see how they’ll look," Remus said. The paint swatches lifted from the bed and floated to the walls, spreading out and sticking in a neat line. Another flick, and Remus added, "Sticking charm—just temporary, so you can take them down whenever you want."
Harry stepped back, crossing his arms as he took in the colors. The swatches stood out against the neutral walls, all vying for his attention. He felt a mixture of excitement and curiosity, imagining how each color might transform the room.
After a few moments of silent observation, Harry pointed to a few. "Not those," he said decisively, gesturing toward a bright yellow and a deep red. "Too loud."
Remus chuckled softly. "Fair enough. Anything catching your eye?"
Harry narrowed his gaze at the remaining colors. The soft grey-blue was appealing, as was the dark forest green. He moved closer, studying how they looked under the light streaming in from the window.
"I think… I like these," he said, pointing to the grey-blue and green. "But it’s hard to decide."
Remus nodded, leaning against the doorframe with a smile. "You’ve got time to figure it out. And if you change your mind later, we can always repaint."
Just as Remus was about to head downstairs, a loud, insistent tapping sound echoed through the room, causing both him and Harry to jump. They exchanged a startled glance before Remus strode over to the window and opened it. A large owl swooped in, carrying a heavy letter in its talons. The bird dropped it on Harry's bed and perched itself on the windowsill, waiting.
Remus frowned, picking up the thick envelope addressed to him in a familiar, tight scrawl. He tore it open, his face clouding over as he unfolded the letter and began to read. His eyes moved quickly across the page, and as he continued, his expression shifted from concern to frustration, the creases in his forehead deepening.
Remus walked over to Harry’s bed and sat down heavily. Harry, sensing something was wrong, sat beside him.
When Remus finally reached the end of the letter, he stuffed it angrily into his pocket, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, his voice quiet but tinged with worry.
With a frustrated sigh, Remus pulled the crumpled letter from his pocket and handed it to Harry. "Here. Read it."
Harry took the letter from Remus’s hands, and as his eyes scanned the page, his heart sank.
The letter was from Dumbledore.
____________________________________________
Remus,
It has come to my attention through several sources—unfortunately, more reliable than I would have hoped—that Harry never arrived at his aunt and uncle’s home as he was meant to. Instead, it seems you have taken it upon yourself to spirit him away, directly undermining my instructions and the carefully laid protections in place.
I understand your affection for the boy, Remus, but what you have done is reckless beyond measure. You may not fully grasp the gravity of the situation, but the blood wards around Privet Drive are Harry’s only true defense against the dangers that still exist. Without his presence in that house, those protections are compromised, and the consequences could be catastrophic. The Dark Lord’s followers remain active, and should they discover that Harry is unguarded, it will not be long before they strike.
I must say, I am gravely disappointed by your decision to act so thoughtlessly. You are a man of intelligence and I had hoped that even in your emotional state, you would understand the importance of keeping Harry at his relatives’ home. His mother’s sacrifice was not meant to be trivialized by whims of sentimentality.
Taking Harry into your care is not only misguided but deeply irresponsible. You are hardly in a position to provide the stability and safety Harry requires. Moreover, as a werewolf, I cannot stress enough that exposing Harry to your condition is far too dangerous for his well-being. If you had any sense of self-restraint, you would have left him where he belongs.
I am not writing to negotiate, Remus. This is a directive. Harry must return to the Dursleys without delay. Failure to comply will result in not only putting the boy at risk, but forcing me to intervene directly. Do not forget, it is I who ensured Harry’s safety all these years, and it is only by my guidance that he will remain protected. I trust you will correct this grievous mistake swiftly.
It is unfortunate that you have placed me in this position, but I cannot allow your personal attachment to cloud what is clearly in Harry’s best interest.
Make no mistake—if you do not deliver Harry to his aunt and uncle, I will take matters into my own hands.
Do not make me regret the trust I once placed in you.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
____________________________________________
Harry’s heart sank as he finished reading the letter. His mind swirled with worry. Dumbledore’s words were so final, so absolute, and they filled him with dread.
"I... I have to go back?" Harry's voice was barely above a whisper, his green eyes wide with fear as he looked up at Remus. “But I don’t want to go back to the Dursleys. Not after…” His words trailed off as he remembered the years of neglect and cruelty. He couldn’t go back to that. He wouldn’t.
Remus, who had been quietly fuming as he read the letter, placed a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder and met his gaze with steady determination. “You are not going back to the Dursleys, Harry. Not now, not ever. I promise you that.”
Harry blinked up at him, his worry starting to ease just slightly. “But... Dumbledore—”
“Dumbledore is wrong,” Remus cut in gently but firmly. “He doesn’t know the full truth. He doesn’t know that I am your father, and because of that, he assumes he’s doing what’s best. But let me be clear—no one in the wizarding world, not even Dumbledore, has the authority to separate a father from his child and place them with Muggles.”
“Are you sure?” Harry asked hesitantly, still processing everything. “I mean… what if he doesn’t listen?”
Remus knelt down in front of Harry, so they were at eye level. His expression was firm but filled with warmth. “Listen to me, Harry. I won’t let anyone take you away. You’re my son, and that means I’m your legal guardian.”
Harry still felt the knot of anxiety in his chest, but Remus’s words gave him hope. “So... I won’t have to go back? Ever?”
“Never,” Remus said firmly, his voice filled with certainty. “You belong here, with me. And no one is going to change that, least of all Dumbledore.”
Harry let out a small breath of relief and nodded, feeling some of the tension begin to slip away. Remus smiled softly and ruffled Harry’s hair.
“Don’t worry about any of this, alright? I’ll take care of it.”
“Okay,” Harry whispered, feeling a small smile tug at his lips. He believed him. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly safe.
Remus stood up, his expression hardening as he glanced back at the letter still clutched in Harry’s hands. “I’ll be having a word with Dumbledore soon. But in the meantime, I want you to relax and not let this bother you. I’ve got it covered.”
Remus sighed softly as he stood up from the bed, his expression still tense from the weight of Dumbledore’s letter. He glanced down at Harry, who was still holding the letter tightly in his hands.
"I need to write a reply," Remus said, his voice calm but firm. "Would you mind staying with the owl for a bit while I go write it?"
Harry nodded, watching as Remus gave him a small, reassuring smile before turning and heading toward his bedroom. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Harry alone with the owl, which hooted softly from its perch on the windowsill.
Harry hesitated for a moment, then slowly reached out a hand to pet the owl’s sleek feathers. It ruffled its wings slightly but didn’t seem to mind the attention.
"Hey there," Harry murmured quietly, stroking the owl’s back as his thoughts raced. His mind kept going back to the letter. Dumbledore’s words still echoed in his head, but so did Remus’s promise. He tried to focus on that—on the warmth in Remus’s voice when he said he wouldn’t let anyone take him away.
The owl hooted again, almost as if sensing Harry’s unease, and nudged its head against his hand. Harry chuckled softly and continued petting it, finding some comfort in the quiet moments as the owl settled.
It felt like several long minutes had passed before Harry heard the creak of a door opening. He looked up just as Remus re-entered the room, a folded piece of parchment in his hand. Remus’s face was set with determination, though there was still a trace of the frustration from earlier.
"All sorted?" Harry asked, standing up as Remus approached.
Remus nodded, giving Harry another small, comforting smile. "Yes. I kept it brief but... direct."
He extended his hand, and the owl immediately perked up, fluttering its wings as it hopped toward Remus. With a careful hand, Remus tied the letter to the owl’s leg, securing it tightly before stepping back.
"Take this to Professor Dumbledore," Remus said, his voice steady as he addressed the owl. "And make sure he gets it immediately."
The owl gave a sharp hoot in response, and with a powerful flap of its wings, it soared out of the window into the dimming evening sky.
As they watched it disappear into the distance, Remus turned to Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Now, we wait," he said softly, squeezing his shoulder gently.
Remus gave Harry’s shoulder another gentle squeeze before nodding toward the bed. “Get some rest, Harry. You’ve been through enough today.”
Harry nodded, still holding the letter loosely in his hands. He watched as Remus turned and walked toward the door, the tension still present in the air between them. As Remus reached the doorway, he glanced back, his expression softening.
“Goodnight, Harry,” Remus said, giving him one last look before quietly slipping out of the room, the door clicking softly shut behind him.
Harry was left alone, sitting on the edge of his bed. He glanced down at the letter in his hands, Dumbledore’s words still swirling in his mind. He didn’t want to go back to the Dursleys. Not after everything that had happened, not when he finally had a place where he felt like he belonged. But Remus had said he would handle it, and for once, Harry allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, someone would actually fight for him.
He stood up, walked over to the desk, and set the letter down carefully, as if by doing so he could distance himself from the fear it carried. Then he turned back to his bed, pulled the covers back, and crawled in. The weight of the day seemed to finally catch up with him as he sank into the pillows, his body heavy with exhaustion.
As he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts still raced, but they were quieter now, tempered by the promise Remus had made. Whatever happened next, Harry wasn’t alone in this. Remus would stand by him, and for the first time in a long time, that thought brought him a small measure of peace.
With a deep breath, Harry closed his eyes, letting the heaviness of sleep pull him under.