Harry checked into the Leaky Cauldron easily enough. He might have had some problems, since he wasn't of age, but the owner still recognized him from a couple of summers before, so no one asked any questions.

As he settled into his room, it crossed his mind that maybe he should have left a note rather than just planning to write to them. It might be jarring for them to suddenly realize Harry was nowhere to be found.

But it wouldn't be a big deal. It wasn't like he was their kid in the first place. And if Remus actually did want Harry, he could always come and get him.

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Remus's heart rate picked up with each second that passed.

He Floo-called the Weasleys, phoned the Grangers, and even left messages for some of Harry's other friends who he didn't talk about as often. He searched the whole house multiple times over, and enlisted the help of everyone who was staying at Grimmauld Place, but the boy was nowhere to be found.

Remus couldn't help but think that something terrible had somehow happened to Harry—that he had touched another cursed object or something—but Moody just shook his head. "Kid ran away," he kept saying. "Nothing else to it."

And Remus didn't have any argument against that. He was still worried that something terrible might happen to Harry now, but it was clear Harry had run.

What wasn't clear to him was why. Minerva had talked to him about the importance of making sure Harry knew he was wanted and loved, and she'd mentioned that insecure kids could be unpredictable, but he still couldn't understand why Harry would choose to run. Lash out, maybe. Retreat into himself, certainly. But run away? It didn't make sense. And Remus couldn't help but worry.

When his heart felt like it was going to pound its way out of his chest, Remus pulled Sirius aside to Harry's room. "Why would he run?" Remus asked.

"Cooped up?" Sirius asked.

"No, I don't think so." It couldn't be that simple. Sirius was just projecting his own frustrations on to Harry. "He would have asked permission."

"He's James's son. He might not."

"He wouldn't run off without a reason, Sirius."

Sirius frowned. "Only one way to find out. We have to find him."

The more Remus thought about it, the more worried he became, and the more worried he felt, the more anger boiled in his veins. There was no excuse for this. Harry had just taken off without letting the people who cared about him know where he was. He was a minor, for goodness sake. Shouldn't he know how much they would all worry?

So Remus doubled down on his efforts. He called up every person Harry had ever mentioned, every professor at Hogwarts with whom Remus was on good terms, every shop Harry had ever visited at Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. Everyone promised they'd call if they heard anything.

But when Remus called up the Leaky Cauldron and asked if anyone had seen Harry, the owner hesitated.

That was all Remus needed. He ended the call and stepped into the Floo.

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Harry was just finishing unpacking his things when the door to his room burst open, and an irate Remus stood in his doorway.

Harry shrank back. He'd considered, almost dared to hope, that Remus might come after him. He'd wondered if the people he'd left behind might be concerned. But based on the look on his face, Remus was far past concerned. The only time Harry had seen him this angry had been when he had threatened Uncle Vernon. It had been terrifying enough to see someone else fall under Remus's wrath; now Harry was under it himself.

Stolen story; please report.

Remus descended on him, grabbing his shoulder. "What were you thinking, boy!"

Harry cringed. The grip on his arm was tight enough to ache.

Remus shook him hard. "We were worried sick, do you hear me? Your room was empty and your things were gone."

"Ow," Harry said, though he tried not to.

Remus let go of his arm, but his eyes remained narrowed. "Well? Answer me!"

Harry scrambled to find his voice. "It doesn't matter! You were going to send me away!"

"What in Merlin's name gave you that idea?"

"I saw . . ." Harry swallowed. If Remus hadn't been planning to send him away before, he certainly would be now. "The note you sent to McGonagall."

Remus's eyes fell closed. "We'll discuss going through my private belongings later. Right now, you're going to pack your things and check out of the inn. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Remus."

"Good." Remus stepped forward and pulled Harry into a strong embrace. Harry hadn't been expecting that—he let himself relax into it, but it was over far too quickly, and Remus was straightening up and heading toward the door. "Meet me in your room at Grimmauld Place in no more than thirty minutes. Believe me, Harry, you do not want to be late."

Harry nodded, fighting tears, though he wasn't sure if they were tears of shame, fear, or happiness.

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Remus paced in Harry's bedroom, preparing the words he'd need to speak. He had told Harry he had a half an hour, but he wouldn't have blamed him if it took him a little longer to gather his things, as well as his composure. He knew how hard he'd come down on the boy; guilt flooded through him, even as he told himself that Harry would be fine.

It took fifteen minutes.

Harry stepped hesitantly into the room and set down his bag on the desk. "Remus, I'm sorry."

"Have a seat."

Harry sat down on the bed, and Remus sat on a chair across from him and looked him right in the eyes. Lily eyes. "Harry, I haven't made it clear to you, and that's my fault, but . . . when I say that this week is a trial period, I mean that for your sake, not for mine."

Harry shifted in his seat. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that if you don't find this arrangement to be suitable, we can speak to the ministry about putting you up for formal adoption. As you're quite well known as the savior of the Wizarding world, I'm sure there's no limit to the number of couples who would be more than willing to take you in."

Harry's cheeks turned pink.

"However, if you do wish to stay here, you are welcome to stay for as long as you'd like. I will care for you as I would care for my own son, if I were to have one. Should the ministry try to step in and prevent it, I will fight for you with everything that I have. But I will never be the one to make you go." He didn't feel the need to point out how impossibly unlikely that was. "Listen now, son, Are you listening?"

"Yes."

"You don't have to do anything to prove yourself to me, and there is nothing you can do to make me send you away."

"R-really?"

Remus smiled. "I solemnly swear."

Harry looked down. His lips curled into a smile, then a grin that spread from ear to ear.

"Hey." Remus waited for Harry to look him in the eyes. "I love you, son. You don't have to say it back, but I'm still going to say it, because it's true, and—"

"I love you, too."

It was Remus's turn to grin from ear to ear, but he didn't let himself stay in that place for long. "Now, about the running away."

Harry winced. "I'm really sorry, it was just a misunderstanding."

"I know it was. And if you'd yelled at me or thrown a tantrum, I'd be willing to let it go. But running off on your own is dangerous, Harry, and it ends here."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You remember me telling you that I needed to be more like a guardian to you and less like a friend."

"Er, yes . . ."

"I'm sorry to have to say it, but you are on restriction, son."

"Oh!" There was little disappointment or sadness in Harry's voice; it was mostly surprise and confusion.

"For the next week, you will not be allowed to fly your broom."

" . . . My broom?"

"You will not use the Quidditch pick that I've set up outside. You will not be allowed to attend your weekly visit with the Weasleys until next weekend."

"Weekly visits? And—Quidditch pitch?"

"And you will write an essay about what it means to be a part of a family. I want a special emphasis on what makes you a valuable member of his household, and I do not want to hear about you doing extra chores. Three feet at the very minimum."

"Okay, fine, but—Quidditch pitch? How did you fit it in the yard?"

"A similar spell to the one that might have been used on the tents you stayed in when you went to the Quidditch World Cup."

"Wicked!"

"It's all yours. You're welcome to have the Weasleys over to use it as well, and Hermione is welcome to visit whenever she likes."

"Wow. Thanks!"

"In a week, Harry. Until then, your broom is on the ground."

Harry's smile didn't fade, and he stood to throw his arms around Remus. "Thank you!"

Remus smiled and gently rubbed the boy's back, and this time, he let Harry be the first one to let go.