Remus wolf-apparated directly into Sirius’s cell at Azkaban. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dank dimness of the barren space. He staggered as the violent sea winds shoved him a few more steps inside, towards the back wall.
The next morning, Remus was up early. Harry was safe and content, back under the charms. The toddler was slowly becoming more resistant to the charm over all, which meant that these little excursions would have to end soon, but there were two more trips that were needed to complete before he could settle down with his young adopted nephew to raise him right.
All Hallow’s Eve, 1981.
“Goodbye and good luck…Harry Potter.” Albus Dumbledore said softly, stepping back from the baby basket. His companion, Minerva McGonagall, made sure the note was tucked securely under the blanket where the infant couldn’t reach, and stepped back as well with a faint sob.