If there was one word to describe Remus John Lupin, it was too.

He was too tall, all long limbs and long torso and long everything that he handled with an unusual amount of grace most of the time. Not clumsy, just awkward, he would say when occasionally he stumbled over an errant object on the floor or tangled his legs as he sat in a chair. As far as the Order went, only Dumbledore and Hagrid were taller, and Sirius, the tallest of his friends from his school days, had been shorter then him by several inches.

He was too thin, particularly for someone of his height. Molly had seemed to take this as a personal affront, and had begun cooking huge meals for him as often as she could, fulfilling her job as mother figure to anyone who happened to look just a little less then fully nourished who stumbled across her path quite splendidly. He had always been lean, years of transforming and war trimmed the fat off a man much better then even the most effective diet spell, and he suspected he would always be so. His thin oxfords and faded trousers showed off a frame that was all sharp, angled joints and lean muscles, no matter how baggy he wore them.

His hair was too gray, too long, too messy. The gray made him look far older then his thirty-six years, while the length and style of the sandy brown locks was the same as he'd worn during his Hogwarts years, just starting to come back in vogue. Not that Remus had ever been very good at knowing what was in or out of style. Molly was always offering to cut it for him, and it had become somewhat of a running joke between him and Bill who she would get to first.

And he was too much of a werewolf for most people to even notice his smile, or his laugh, or the spark that shined behind his amber eyes through just about everything, or the fact that he was too nice to almost everyone he met, no matter how they treated him in return.

Remus had been a lycanthrope for thirty years now, and he supposed that after a while you built up a little bit of resistance, a tolerance you could call it, to the harsh words, but by that time, the lines had already been sketched prematurely and deeply into his thin, handsome face. Only a handful of people had ever gotten past the werewolf thing to really accept that there was something to Remus Lupin beyond the werewolf thing. And it seemed like most of those people were dead.

Something in the area of his heart clenched at the thought of dead friends, Sirius's death less then a month past, and he ran a hand along his chin, feeling the few day's worth of sandy beard, wishing that he'd thought to shave before coming to Hogwarts. It was considerably easier to convince people that you were just fine if you looked the part.

But life goes on, and it always had, and always would, until, of course, it didn't, but that caused the heart-clenching thing to happen again, so he shoved those thoughts into some far hidden corner of his mind and muttered the password to expose the staircase up to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore had given no specific reason for calling him to the school today, but Remus assumed it was something for the Order.

It seemed everything these days was about the Order, not that Remus minded terribly. Throwing himself into work seemed to be one of two things that kept him from drowning in angst, and the other was something he had been trying to avoid lately, as it raised more questions then Remus was really ready to deal with at all.

His shoulder protested painfully as he raised his hand to knock, the fresh, deep gash along the shoulder blade adding to the stiffness of shifting bones and unnaturally stretching muscles. Soon though, it would just be yet another scar crisscrossing his pale skin, and it wasn't as though he hadn't dealt with various degrees of pain, ranging from horrifying to minor inconveniences, for his entire life, so he ignored it fairly well and raised his hand to knock again.

Just then, the door swung open and Remus quickly lowered his hand, trying to hide his discomfort at the sudden movement. Dumbledore smiled at him serenely, though he appeared to be sucking on a rather putrid piece of candy, if the slight smell it was giving off was any indication.

"Remus, I'm delighted you could come. Please," he said, stepping aside to allow the younger man to enter the office. Remus forced a small smile, attempting to shove his memories of times spent in this office into the same corner that he'd shoved his earlier thoughts. He was quite good at this, but he supposed with practice came perfect, though he certainly wasn't perfect yet, and swallowed a hard lump as he heard the door click locked behind him.

"Have a seat," Dumbledore said, and as Remus lowered himself carefully into one of the two high backed chairs in front of the desk, he realized he'd never known Dumbledore to lock his office.

"Remus, I haven't called you here today to talk about the Order, but something that relates directly to you and your 'furry little problem', as I believe James Potter often referred to it."

"What about it, sir?" asked Remus, curious as to what could be discussed about his being a werewolf. It was something that he'd almost always been, and would always be, very much a part of what he was for the past thirty years. It was how many people defined him within their minds: Remus Lupin, resident werewolf.

"Well, I believe, that in my research of the topic, I may have discovered a way to cure your condition, I'll admit a rather unorthodox one," said Dumbledore, with such a casual tone that Remus wondered if perhaps he had misheard the Headmaster, and rather than saying something that would drastically change Remus's life, he had simply been commenting on the weather. Perhaps his own dreams had taken to mocking him? He pinched his leg hard, the sore muscles protesting quite angrily and Remus looked up at Dumbledore, unable to hide a small grimace.

"I assure you, Remus, this is entirely real. But, like many good things, it is not without some sacrifice," he said, and the twinkle in his blue eyes, though no less intense, had a hint of sadness as he met Remus's own amber ones.

Swallowing unconsciously, Remus felt his heart twinge heavily at the thought that something he'd wanted so badly for so long could cost him dearly, "Sir, what, um, what is the-," he asked, struggling for words, caught somewhere between hope and horror, which was an uncomfortable place to be to say the least.

"You will, to put it simply, be starting over. If you go back, and stop yourself from being bitten, you'll be living a drastically different life from the age of six on. Not only will you prevent yourself from becoming a werewolf, but through this particular method, you will also alter the entire course of your existence. You'll be living in a different time, with different people, and if I do say so myself, very different adventures."

Remus knew his jaw was hanging open at perhaps a truly astonishing angle, but the part of his brain that was in charge of basic motor functions seemed to have been disabled by what Dumbledore had said. When he managed to reconnect his muscles to his brain, it took every bit of concentration he possessed to stutter out a simple, "H-How?"

"Ah, that is the most important question, isn't? Well, I suppose I should start at the beginning, with your parents. I've never seen two people who were as devoted to their son as they were to you, Remus. They would have given almost anything to see you free of your affliction, and when they couldn't find a cure, they made your life as comfortable as was within their power. They were not perfect people, but no one truly is, and they were both truly wonderful people. They were a very powerful witch and wizard, and nice almost to a fault. There is so much of both of them in you," Dumbledore said, and Remus blushed. It had been a long time since anyone had talked about his parents, and no one had ever given them quite the glowing description that Dumbledore had.

"Shortly before your father's death, he came to me and asked me to continue their search for something to help you. He was in very poor health at the time, and your mother's death had left a deep mark on him, but he never gave up the hope that someday you would be free of the wolf. I agreed, because by that time, through your years at Hogwarts and your work with the Order, I knew you quite well, and didn't think I could find a nicer or more deserving young man in the entire world," Remus blushed again at the compliment, and Dumbledore paused to remove two small items from one of his desk drawers.

Remus studied the two seemingly random items on the desk in between himself and the headmaster with interest. One had the appearance of being an overly intricate Time Turner with a rusty chain, while the other was an unpolished deep black stone, with colored veins shot through it. The veins seemed to dance and buzz happily as Remus watched, and it took effort to drag his eyes back up to Dumbledore's.

The headmaster slipped his long fingers under the chain of the Time Turner first, holding it aloft so that Remus could see into the tiny hourglass at eye level, and said, "This is, as I assume you have guessed, a Time Turner. But it is no ordinary Turner. In fact, I'm not sure if 'turner' is really an accurate term for it. You see, while an ordinary Time Turner can send you back minutes, even hours, and then let the time play out in a natural progression until the moment you went back, this can be used to send you back years, and then pull you back to your current time. A Time "Yo-Yo", if you will," Dumbledore said with a smile, and Remus gave his own nervous one at the joke.

"We can send you back to prevent yourself from ever being bitten. But this, of course, presents a problem. When you are pulled back to the present, you will suddenly have thirty years of life, of memories, that you never actually lived. They will simply be blurry pictures and moments that you will be unable to fully figure out if you actually lived them or not. And a life not actually lived is hardly a life at all. Which is where the second item comes in.

"This is Eneidfuna Carega, a Soul-Combining Stone in English. It's usually used in traditional magical Welsh marriage ceremonies, or even at deathbeds, to infuse just a little of the dying person into perhaps a great-grandchild they will never meet, though it is hardly ever used to the degree that we will use it. If you clasp it between your wand hand, your right, and the wand hand of your younger version, also his right, of course, under the full moon on a summer night, the two souls will merge.

"Because they are as similar as two souls can possibly be, being the soul of the same person, you will revert to the younger version, your six year old self, and all memories of anything past the moment you merged, or of your interactions with you as you are now, will be erased. It is a truly remarkably complicated process, and I could spend months upon months trying to explain what parts of it I do understand, as it is quite fascinating, but I've rambled on enough, and I can sense your anxiousness, which is understandable in these circumstances," he said as Remus blushed again, wondering if it was possible to spontaneously combust if your cheeks grew that hot repeatedly in such a short amount of time.

"But, because of the age gap between you now and you when Greyback attacked you, you, hopefully unbitten and merged into one soul, will be pulled forward in time thirteen years. Or, at least, that is what I've managed to calculate. Again, I'm not an expert, but I'm fairly certain that number, thirteen, is correct. So, instead of starting Hogwarts in 1971, you will be a first year in 1984. If I'm not mistaken, that would be the year that young Miss Tonks first graced Hogwarts with her lovely presence," said Dumbledore, with a smile that was more knowing than Remus was really comfortable with.

He would have laughed at the words "Tonks" and "grace" being used in the same sentence, had his heart not clenched in an entirely different way at the mention of the young Auror. Being around her seemed to make the near constant ache in his heart ease away into a pleasant, fuzzy feeling in his stomach that he hadn't ever quite experienced to this extent before. But lately, the fuzzy warmness had been migrating from his stomach to his heart, and he wasn't quite sure how to react.

"And this life? I mean, if I go back, how much of this life will I have left? In my memories?" he asks, although the tight lump that's taken up residence behind his sternum tells him that he already knows the answer to that. But his mind is whirling from the sheer magnitude of this thing in front of him, and he wants to know as much as possible.

At this, Dumbledore's smile turned sad as he said, "Not much at all. If you go back and change things, none of them will really have existed. Maybe, occasionally, a particularly strong connection may stir up something that goes beyond memory, but, Remus, if you go back, you'll be sacrificing everything good in this life. If you go back, it's likely that you'll never know Frank or Alice Longbottom, the Prewett twins, the Samurs.

"You'll never meet Lily Evans or James Potter, they'll all be lost to the First War before you even receive your Hogwarts' letter. You'll never know Sirius before Azkaban, or Peter as the boy you befriended at Hogwarts. No detentions with the Marauders, no late night study sessions with Lily. The group of friends that were such an important part of your life will never be a part of this new life. You'll never be Moony, and Remus, of all the titles you've ever held, prestigious and not, I know that that means more to you the anything.

"But know also that this new life, should you choose to go back, may present the same sorts of opportunities, and greater, things you never could have dreamed of in this life. Think, not having to worry about receiving a Hogwarts letter, being free to try out for the Quidditch team, no worrying about falling asleep in class because of exhaustion you have no control over, being able to pursue your clear love of teaching without prejudice. And perhaps, you may find new friends, and form bonds with them that go beyond even, dare I say, what you had with the Marauders.

"And," said Dumbledore, mischievous quality back in the twinkle behind the half-moon glasses, "every excuse you have thought of for not pursuing a relationship with young Nymphadora will be dealt with in perhaps a single blow, which is good, as you two have clearly fallen very much in love with each other. I've found that no amount of time or magic can alter true love," he held a hand up with a smile at Remus's sputtering syllables after the last comment, and continued, "This is not without sacrifice, as I said before, and it seems monumentally unfair to ask a man who has already sacrificed so much to just give it all up, all the happy moments he has accumulated, and start over, but I wouldn't tell you about it if I didn't think it was a good option.

"Remus," he said, meeting the other man's eyes with an intensity in his own that Remus has seen only a few times in all the years that he's known Dumbledore, "there is this force inside of you, a grand force for good, a will, a need to make things right again, to fix the problems of the world in front of you. And you are a fabulous ambassador for this need, and a vital, if not essential, member of the Order of the Phoenix. But there is something more, something good and right that you strive for that cannot be achieved by simply playing your part.

"Is it impossible for you to achieve this within the confines of this life? No. But outside of it, in this new life of different possibilities, of different people and occasions, there is a beautiful opportunity right in front of you," Dumbledore said, then relaxed back into his chair, his eyes never leaving Remus's. "But, the choice is not mine, only yours. It is your life after all, and it is you who must choose how to lead it."

Remus just sat there for a second, his mind jumbled and slow, and he can feel every ache and pain from the previous full moon as if he's trapped inside the exhaustion, and rationale decisions seem like a bad idea, and for a moment he can perhaps grasp for the first time Sirius's utter need to drown the voices inside his head out by dousing them in Firewhiskey.

The hope and unknown of this new life stretching out in front of him, and the comfortable known of his current life, which, while less than perfect, is at least more than a complicated hypothetical. And his friends are here, or at least they used to be, and even if their memories seem to cause the uncomfortable heart-clenching feeling, at least there are memories.

And of course, there is Dora. He smiles slightly at the nickname, grudgingly accepted when she'd been unable to convince him to stop calling her Nymphadora, and he can see her face, happy and energetic and young, dark eyes and pale skin and pink hair, and thinks how he would do anything to tell her how he felt. And Dumbledore seems to think she feels the same way, might return that strange warmness in and around his heart, and that here is the perfect opportunity to eliminate every excuse he has in one fell swoop.

"Sir, could I perhaps burrow your Pensieve for a few minutes?" he asked, surprised at the scratchiness of his own voice, and wondered if the thick, fast swirling of his thoughts was reflected in the amber of his eyes.

"Of course," said Dumbledore, gesturing to the cabinet off to the side of his desk as he stood, "Now, I'm simply famished, and I believe I'll go place my lunch order with the house elves. I think I'll have chicken today, would you like me to order something for you?" he asked, but Remus shook his head as his eyes fell to the Eneidfuna Carega, the colored veins against the dark of the stone mesmerizing him for a moment. He heard the door click closed behind him, the unfamiliar click of the lock, and stood slowly, giving his muscles time to adjust to standing again, before he crossed to the cupboard and pulled the doors open gently. He can see his face reflected just slightly in the swirling silver liquid, and thought about the memories he wanted, pulling them to the top of his mind. Remus touched his wand to his temple, transporting the thin silver threads one by one, slowly, carefully, into the basin.

For a moment, he considers just stirring up the memories, watching the scenes he knows so well play out in front of him in ghostly silver, but another moment and he's lowering his face into the basin before him, a coolness flowing off the silver, touching his face in tendrils until his nose brushed the liquid and he plunged head first into his own memories.

His feet arrived on solid ground abruptly, and he stumbled just a bit, found himself almost face to face with eleven-year-old Remus, paler even then usual in the flickering candlelight of the Great Hall, the patched Sorting Hat falling over his head and the whispering voice already loud in his ear. He can still hear it almost twenty years later.

Ahhh, a quiet one. Always one, every year it seems, with the heart of a lion all wrapped up in quiet contemplation and secrets. And oh, the secrets inside your head, Mr. Lupin.

And Remus can see himself quaking on the stool, scared to death that instead of shouting a house name, it will screech "WEREWOLF!" to the heavens and the Hall, and everything will be ruined. But instead, the resounding call of "GRYFFINDOR!" breaks the silence, and he can see the young boy still shaking as he makes his way to the table. He moved on to the next memory, the dark enchanted sky exchanging for the tall ceiling of Professor McGonagall's classroom.

Two dark haired boys sat in front of him, one longhaired, casually flicking a bit of parchment between himself and the messy haired boy next to him. A small mousy haired boy is sitting a few desks down from them, where he'd moved to work on homework to avoid being distracted. He was doing a terrible job.

And next to him sat his younger version, dozing on his hand, full moon night exhaustion taking over him as he watched his friends. This morning, as he'd emerged from the Whomping Willow, he'd seen their shadows silhouetted against the rising blood red sun, and thought that there could be no more terrible sight.

But now, as James turned around and flicked the parchment at Remus, and Remus returned the paper with a sleepy smile, he knew they wouldn't leave him. And in that moment, though they will have years of school and some time after that to be friends, though their adventures will extend, in both depth and distance, far beyond this simple classroom, in his memory, there is no moment where these three boys were more real to him.

And then the last memory, a lonely hallway in Grimmauld, far enough after Christmas that the children have returned to school, but close enough that no one really questioned the presence of the small sprig of mistletoe hanging in the library door. At least, no one had questioned it until this moment, when Nymphadora Tonks had tripped into his arms in the doorway.

They'd both looked up at the same time, and then back to each other, and it seemed as though everything else was frozen. As Tonks righted herself, smiling nervously, Remus tried to reassure her with a smile of his own, but he was sure it came off just as unsure as hers had. Then suddenly, she'd pushed up on to her toes, and he, expecting a quick peck on the cheek, was caught off guard when her lips met his.

He could feel her arms around his neck, and rested his against her waist for a moment as he felt her tongue dart out lightly against his lips before she pulled back, million Galleon smile in place, splitting cheeks that were slightly red. She'd walked away then, whistling a slightly familiar Christmas carol with a tempo that seemed to change every few beats, and left Remus standing there, the warmness inside his heart accompanied by wonder at what had just happened in the dingy hallway of 12 Grimmauld Place.

As he pulled his face from the Pensieve, and let his mind come back from the memories, he glanced over at Dumbledore's desk, at the two small wooden picture frames lost among all the various silver instruments that cluttered the desk. Walking over slowly, his hand fell to the first, a black and white picture, slightly faded, crumpled around the edges even in the frame, a solid, comforting age to it.

Remus looked over the familiar faces, thought of all the memories, all the time spent among those people, the mornings after full moons spent in a kitchen buzzing with activity rather then a tiny, empty flat, meetings that lasted long past the point they probably should have. All those people lost, but so much life lived, those colorful vivid people who Remus had fought with, had seen grow and live and die, captured in one moment, smiling, laughing, waving at the camera heedless of the fate that awaited many of their number.

And then the second picture, more familiar faces, more fond memories. He remembered their patience with an ever more temperamental Sirius, their kindness to him, food and clothing often literally shoved at him after he'd refused many times. He can even now smell the foul smoke of Mundungus's pipe, Molly's cooking, Arthur sitting at the table, fiddling with his newest Muggle gadget, more redheads than seemed possible sometimes, Sirius slouched at the table, Firewhiskey forgotten as he talks with Dora and Moody. He touched the smiling faces of those already lost, and then his finger found his own image.

He's smiling, an honest smile, wide, teeth showing, slightly off balance as Tonks clung to his side, laughing heartily at his joke about Snape's hair, her pink hair a sharp contrast to the shabbiness of his robe. But next to her, he looks less old, less worn out, the smile de-aging him as effectively as any potion.

And in that moment, looking between the two pictures, and seeing how different they are, how similar, he made his decision, just as the door clicked open behind him, and Dumbledore came in, levitating a small tray in front of him. Remus collected the memories carefully, letting them sink back into his mind, as he turned to the headmaster, and he can tell that Dumbledore sees his thoughts splashed across his face, but he asks aloud anyway, "Have you come to a decision?"

"Yes, sir. I want to go back. I want my chance," said Remus, not sure what this chance is, but feeling a deep burning inside his heart for it. Of course, it could just be heartburn, the logical part of his brain said, but Remus told the logical part of his brain to shove off and met Dumbledore's eyes.

"Very well, then," said Dumbledore, though the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth gave away his great approval. Carefully setting the tray on his desk, he picked up the Time Turner and the stone, and approached Remus. Draping the chain over his neck, he handed the stone to Remus slowly and backed away, retrieving his wand from the folds of his robes.

"Now, Remus, I should tell you. As the person who sent you back, I will always have a vague recollection of you as you are now, even in that other life. It is possible that I will retain many of my memories of this you, and if you wish, when I think it proper, I can perhaps share them with you."

Remus considered it for a moment, before shaking his head, staring resolutely at his battered shoes, "No, I don't think I'd want to know, that there was this other path, that I had lived it and left it. I just," he paused for a second, "I think I might think it cowardly," he said, a hint of shame in his voice.

"Remus," said Dumbledore, moving forward to place a long, warm hand on his shoulder, "Wanting a second chance is not cowardice. It takes a lot of courage to simply start over, no matter what you may be leaving or going towards."

At that point, Remus looked up, the real matter coming out when he saw the two pictures again, sitting there, and spoke, "I never stopped them. God, I never personally did anything to him, but I never ever said a word to stop them. I wanted so badly to be liked that I just let them do as they wished."

Dumbledore smiled sadly, "No one is perfect, Mr. Lupin, no matter how hard they try. You like to be liked, almost to a fault, and while this sometimes makes for poor decision-making, it is nothing that other people do not struggle with. Our deficiencies make us who we are just as much as our capacities. Never forget that, Remus, that with every mistake comes a chance to grow, to become more yourself. Mistakes are made, will always be made, but it is no grand sin to want to be liked."

Remus nodded, and Dumbledore stepped back again, "Well, we should begin then. There is no going back once you do this," he said, but Remus only nodded again, eyes still fixed on his shoes, "Now, once I send you back, you'll have five minutes to use the Stone to bind before you're pulled back, and the reason this particular kind of Turner is so rare is the fact that it can only be used once. Meaning that this very well may be a once in a lifetime opportunity," he said, and Remus nodded once again as he swallowed against the heavy lump in his throat.

Dumbledore removed something from his pocket, something wrapped in a dark blue cloth dotted with yellow stars, and held it out to Remus, who took it gingerly, letting the cloth fall away to reveal a silver ball as Dumbledore explained, "If you are unable to drive Greyback off in time, make sure your younger version is in possession of this before you use the Stone. It works like an egg, the outside breakable, the inside liquid. It could be his last line of defense."

Remus nodded, and felt the stone in his pocket, buzzing almost happily against his palm, a warmth and solidness radiating from it, giving the impression that it would do it's best in whatever it was asked to do. It soothed some of his nerves away as Dumbledore smiled at him, twirling his wand absently between his long fingers, looking like he had something more to say.

Finally, with a proud smile, he met Remus's eyes and calmly leveled his wand at the Time Turner sitting against Remus's chest, "Remus, I believe you have a great destiny, something much beyond anything that you or I or anyone else can even begin to imagine. I believe that your life will be full of adventure and mystery and friendship and love, enough to keep a young man busy for a very long time. Something great awaits you, Remus Lupin, a fate far beyond your wildest dreams. You are a great man, and I expect nothing but the best from this second chance you've been given. I'm sure you won't disappoint me," he said, and with a grand flourish of his wand, the Time Turner began to spin rapidly.

The last thing Remus saw before he disappeared into a world of swirling colors and sounds was the bright twinkle in the blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore behind the half-moon glasses. And then he was gone.

There was no way to comprehend time or space as it was now, moving around him in a confusing pattern of colors, and the noise was almost overwhelming, but the Turner spun a steady beat against his chest, and the Eneidfuga Carega still buzzed happily in his pocket, so he kept a hand wrapped tightly around it and hoped for the best.

His feet hit the ground quite suddenly, and he barely managed to keep his balance as the normal world came back into focus. Remus now stood in the small forested area that he'd looked out over from his bedroom window growing up. The house, the only steady home he'd ever known besides Hogwarts, could be seen from the clearing, sitting peacefully, utterly unaware of the events that were about to change it forever, one way or another.

With shaking hands, he removed his pocket watch, a present from his father for his fifteenth birthday, and glanced at the time: 6:49. Sunrise was fast approaching, but there was plenty of night left. He was still staring at the watch when he heard the strange scratching sound, oddly musical, and looked up to find himself staring at, well, himself.

Young Remus was perched on a rather large boulder, the only big rock within a couple miles, long, broken tree branch in his hands. As he moved it carefully up and down the rock, the tip dragged across the ridges, creating the scratching song that had caught Remus's attention. He remembered his thought process that June morning so long ago, how he'd woken up early, couldn't get back to sleep, wondered what outside was like at this time, as he'd never been.

Rather boring, Remus remembered, and almost smiled, but suddenly, a thick crack filled the clearing, and he looked up to see his younger self holding the two halves of the stick, staring at it in frustration before climbing down off the rock to look for a new stick. As he did this, Remus began a silent countdown in his head: Fifteen, fourteen.

He'd seen this memory so often, in his waking mind and his dreams, that he knew exactly how long between the stick snapping and Greyback's arrival. Twelve, eleven. His younger self turned his back to a small break in the trees, just before a quiet snap of twigs was heard, but didn't notice it. Remus swallowed, removed his wand from his robes, could feel Greyback approaching. Three, two.

And there they were, the pair of green-brown eyes that Remus still dreamed about, emerging from the small space, and Greyback had arrived. One.

"Stupefy!" he shouted, just as the werewolf lunged toward the younger Remus, and the beam of red light connected dead center, but it simply diverted the wolf's course a little, rather then stunning it. It was just too large, with too much magic and raw power, to be dealt with by a simple spell, but it was the most effective thing Remus could do at the moment.

The younger Remus had scrambled back up on to the boulder at the shout, and looked down on the scene with wide, terror-filled eyes. At least, Remus thought, this time, if he gets me, at least I'll get to see his face. Casting another spell, Remus moved out of the slight cover of the trees, the moon revealing his features fully. He didn't miss the surprise and confusion that flashed across the boy's face for a moment before it filled with terror again.

Remus noted, as another jet of red light met Greyback's continued assaults on the boulder, that the werewolf seemed intent only on reaching his younger version, totally oblivious to the man sending spell after spell at it. He assumed that it was something to do with the fact that this he, because of the Time Turner, wasn't fully a part of this time, and the wolf just couldn't understand it.

Greyback moved quicker than Remus expected, and his "Stupefy!" sailed a few hairs over its back, and its claws scraped against the rock inches from young Remus's toes. Startled, the boy, barely balanced on the very tip of the rock, tumbled backward, landing heavily on his shoulder. As his younger self struggled to get to his feet, Remus strode forward and pulled him up, pushing him behind him, muttering a quick apology as his hand brushed past the sore shoulder.

Fumbling with his pocket watch as he kept his wand leveled at Greyback, Remus glanced at the hands, and dug out the dark stone as he herded the other Remus farther back.

"Give me your hand," Remus said, holding out his own right, the stone vibrating in his palm. Though he looked wary, the young boy clasped his own around Remus's with a glance over his shoulder at the werewolf. And the world seemed to stop, everything going blurry around the edges except for the two Remuses and a strange light that had engulfed their joined hands.

Returning his wand to his pocket, Remus felt the velvet surrounding the silver ball that Dumbledore had given him, and carefully withdrew it from his pocket. As he handed it to the younger Remus, he said, "Use it wisely. You've got one shot."

The boy considered it for a second, letting the cloth fall open to reveal the silver, before nodding, and asking, "Is this going to hurt?"

Remus gave a small laugh, "Honestly, I don't know. This is as new to me as it is to you," he said, and the younger Remus nodded carefully. There was steeliness behind the amber eyes, trained on the growing light, now creeping up their arms. As it touched his shoulder, Remus could feel the buzzing in the thick scar tissue there.

He remembered how it had felt, as the teeth sunk deep into his shoulder, cracking the blade in half, the impact of the collision shattering one of his ribs and breaking three more, his blood pooling thickly underneath him, chest and back slashed open. Only surviving because his mother was a Healer at St. Mungo's, many of her colleagues refusing to treat Remus because of the nature of the attack. He thinks that the pain must have simply been trying to prepare him for the torturous agony of full moons to come.

He remembered how empty his chest had felt the day after he had lost everything, his friends, how the world had celebrated around him as he sat in his dingy flat and focused on feeling his heartbeat just to make sure that there was something still there, something that kept him going.

He remembered the silent triumph in Snape's eyes as he'd left Hogwarts, McGonagall's pity, something that simply didn't suit the Gryffindor head of house. How like a failure he felt as those huge doors slammed shut behind him. And how, when he walked the streets after his exposure, it felt as though everyone was looking disdainfully down on him, despite the fact that he was usually the tallest person in sight.

But he also remembered the light behind Lily's eyes as they studied in the library, and in Harry's eyes, so like hers, as his first flimsy Patronus flowed slowly from the tip of his wand, and the light in the eyes of the others, Hermione's as she absorbed new information like a sponge, Ron's as the magic flowed from his new wand. And Neville's, the dark blue-green depths lighting up with happiness, not simply because Snape in drag was funny, but also because he had done something right, undeniably, unalterably right. He remembered the way his chest shook with laughter at James and Sirius's antics, or the feeling of loyalty that had welled up inside his heart when those three young boys walked back to the castle with him after they knew.

His watch was growing warm and vibrating slightly in his pocket, and withdrawing it, he watched as the magical numbers etched into the face changed gradually from 6-18-66 to 6-18-79, and Remus smiled as his thoughts turned to Dora, and just how much he wanted Dumbledore to be as right about her feelings for him as he had been about the year change.

Remus remembered the sparkle in her dark eyes, and the way her laugh bounced around the dingy kitchen of Grimmauld, how much of a calming effect her presence had on Sirius. How her hand felt brushing lightly across his forehead as she pushed his fringe out of his eyes, as he'd caught her doing several times when he'd fallen asleep on the couch in the study, full moon exhaustion taking over, waking to find her blushing and stammering excuses as to why she'd been staring at him for so long.

And he remembered the feel of her lips pressed over his, tongue ghosting along the chapped skin of his lower lip as her fingers tangled slightly in the hairs at the nape of his neck, Remus wishing that this moment could last forever. The corners of her lips quirked up even as she kissed him, and he'd thought nothing could be more perfect.

A chance, he thought, as the light engulfed everything from his neck down, not just for me, but for us. Just a chance.

One last breath as the old Remus Lupin, full moon air filling his lungs for the first time in nearly thirty years, and then the light engulfed him.

Remus blinked and looked at the werewolf regrouping in front of him. The silver ball he held in his hand was cool and solid to the touch, and he remembered something his father had told him once, as they'd gazed out from Remus's window at the full moon illuminating the clearing he now stood in. Ignoring the wave of pain and stiffness that emanated from his shoulder at the motion, he pulled his arm back and threw the ball as hard as he could at the werewolf.

It missed by a margin that seemed impossibly small, and shattered against the large tree behind the wolf with a sound like heartbreak.

His only option as the wolf lunged at Remus was to dive to the ground, and he felt the heat and power soar over him by inches, the sound of its claws once again clattering against the boulder. Another shot of pain ripped through his shoulder as he rolled over and scrambled to his feet, moving backwards as well as he could towards the tree with the silver still dripping down it, the bark causing it to make odd patterns. His eyes locked on the wolf, he failed to notice the heavy tree root inches from his foot.

Remus tripped, his arms flailing in a losing battle against gravity.

His bruised right shoulder, already aching from his three-foot drop off the rock, slammed into the tree, and he could feel the heavy bark digging into his skin. It hurt a lot, more then anything had ever hurt him before, and the silver burned, deep inside the cuts now, and he couldn't move, was suddenly weighed down by exhaustion and pain and the thought of what came next. Back pressed against the tree, legs shaking, he waited.

The werewolf turned, fixed thick, green-brown eyes on him, let its lips curl back over its teeth, and Remus could have sworn it was smiling, but he thought it was probably an illusion created by the fact that the pain was causing his vision to swim. And then the wolf's mouth was open and it was leaping, and Remus screwed his eyes shut against the huge jaw full of dripping, terrifying teeth.

His feet lost their grip on the mucky blood and silver and dirt beneath his feet, and he fell, his shoulder and neck scraping across the bark, and suddenly, the werewolf has smashed into the tree above him. Remus can't tell the difference between the werewolf's blood and his own, and even with the full moon, it's really too dark to differentiate between blood and silver.

Crawling away from the tree, every moment causing a nauseating pain to rip through his shoulder and neck, he collapsed near the boulder that mere minutes ago he'd been sitting on, and turned back to look at the wolf. It let out a pitiful sound caught somewhere between a whine and a howl, and turned to face Remus.

The right side of its face, neck and right shoulder were covered in the silver, and Remus could hear it burning against the skin. Its snout was contorted at a terrible angle, and although its right foreleg seemed to have escaped most of the silver, its left had not been so fortunate, and hung useless, unmoving.

A door banged open behind him, and the clearing was suddenly filled with the calm yellow light of a lantern. John Lupin stood framed in the doorway, lantern held high above his head to illuminate his injured son and the werewolf.

"Remus, what are you doing out-!" he said, but his shout was cut off when he noticed the silver covered werewolf slumped at the edge of the circle of light. For a moment, he was stunned silent, and then a shout tore from his throat.

"FENRIR GREYBACK, GET AWAY FROM MY SON!" John rushed forward, not realizing until he was much closer just how badly both his son and the wolf were injured, and his blue eyes went wide as he looked at Remus, the blood staining his ripped shirt. As he reached his son, the first glimpse of the sun peeked over the horizon, and Greyback froze where he was, the change suddenly beginning to take hold.

Remus watched in horrified fascination as the wolf in front of him writhed painfully, until all that remained was a fairly small, dirty man, wearing a torn shirt and brown pants that barely reached his knees. His left arm hung, mangled, useless at his side as his front leg had in wolf form, and his face was horribly scarred, thin veins of sizzling silver still clinging to it.

Panting with pain, Greyback swiped a hand across his face angrily, and glared death at Remus as he spoke to John, "He'll pay, Lupin. You'll both pay," and then he was gone. As Greyback disappeared, Remus lost the battle with his churning stomach, and vomited, tears streaming down his face.

His father pulled him into his arms and Remus sobbed against the comfortable warmth of his father's t-shirt, tears of pain and fear and confusion and exhaustion. How long they stayed there, Remus was unsure, but his father didn't move until Remus's tears subsided, and then gently leaned back to meet his son's eyes.

"Did he bite you? Remus, is that what happened to your shoulder?" asked John, unable to keep the fear out of his eyes.

"N-no," said Remus, fighting back tears still. "I tripped, and hit my shoulder on the tree," he continued, pointing to the tree, the blood and silver shining in the early morning sun.

"Oh, thank God," said John, then carefully peeled the bloodstained parts of Remus's shirt away from his shoulder, "Let's have a look at this then. See if we need to take you to Mungo's."

But as John Lupin studied his son's shoulder, he could see no fresh cuts, only a thick patch of scar tissue that covered his right shoulder and extended several inches up his neck. The blood surrounding the wound was still warm and wet, only slightly tacky, but there was no open wound to speak of. Only the thick scar tissue, dark pink against Remus's pale skin.

Before he could do more than puzzle over the miraculously healed wound, a voice called out, "John! Rosey! What's going on?" and their neighbor, a Daily Prophet reporter named Horton Quick, stepped out onto his front porch, wand held tightly in his hand.

"Remus was attacked," said John, and added as an afterthought, "by a werewolf."

"Was he… bitten?" asked Quick, noticeably recoiling.

"No," said John, as he continued to stare at the huge scar that now covered his son's shoulder, "He's fine."

"Really?" asked the reporter, his curiosity peaked, "That's excellent. How'd he manage that?" he continued after a pause, reaching over to the small table next to him, standing his quill on the point as John scooped his small son up carefully and moved towards his neighbor's house.

Remus told the story in broken sentences, exhaustion and the lingering pain keeping him from even the basic coherency of a normal six-year-old. He clung desperately to his mother, who'd come out of the house a few minutes into the story. John and Rosey had had a rapid, intense discussion for a minute before Rosey came over to inspect her son's shoulder as he talked.

Soon though, the broken sentences became nothing more than yes or no answers, but by that time, Quick was almost bouncing up and down where he stood. As John once again scooped his son up to his chest, Horton Quick closed his door, grabbed his cloak and apparated on the spot. If he hurried, it was possible that he could get his story into the morning addition of the Prophet. He thought they might make an exception, even if the papers arrived late this morning.

John went to check on the twins, Samuel and Lawrence, who had turned two just a few days before, while his mother took Remus to clean the blood off of him before he went back to bed. Running a warm washcloth over his shoulder and neck as he sat unmoving on the edge of the bathtub, bare feet sitting in a few inches of water to wash the dirt off, she marveled at the impressive expanse of scar tissue that now covered it.

"Remus?" she asked, and he looked up at her, eyes wide amber pools staring deeply into the swirling patterns of dirt around his feet. "Does it hurt, honey, when I touch… it?" she continued, not sure what to call the scar, so newly formed, yet clearly so much a part of his skin now.

He shook his head, long hair falling into his eyes, and he ran one wet hand through his fringe, pushing it out of his amber eyes as his mother finished washing the last of the blood and dirt away. Remus was clearly exhausted, and she helped him into a shirt and scooped him up, the boy feeling weightless in her arms tonight, so light despite his tallness, and Rosey tucked him deep inside the blankets on his bed, being careful of his shoulder. But Remus seemed not to really notice it, except to roll onto his left side and burrow deeper into the blankets. Rosey took one last look at her eldest and put out the light.

Cuddling deeper into his blankets, Remus Lupin knew nothing of what lay ahead of him, knew only the warmness of his bed and the deep feeling of sleepiness that was overcoming him. He didn't know that in a few hours, he and his new scar would become a symbol of courage and hope for a wizarding world that desperately need such symbols, that for months, and even years afterward, his name would be spoken with reverence and awe, and that he would never quite be able to fully escape the fame that would forever follow the new mark splashed on his shoulder, inching up onto his neck slightly. That this was only a small taste of the adventures that awaited him.

As he drifted off, giving up in the battle against sleep, Remus Lupin didn't know any of this.
-------------------------------------
"Merlin's beard!"

His father's voice broke through Remus's sleepy haze, and the six-year-old sat up, rubbing at his eyes, shielding them from the mid-morning light spilling into the room. Climbing out of his bed, he padded through the hallway and down the stairs into the kitchen. His parents were both staring at the front page of The Daily Prophet, but whatever they found so interesting was blocked from Remus's view by their backs.

"'S goin' on?" Remus asked, speech still clouded by sleep. His parents turned away from the paper to look at him as one, or both, of the twins began fussing upstairs. Rosey and John exchanged a glance before she moved toward the stairs and he turned so that Remus could climb up onto his lap.

Remus couldn't read very well yet, but the picture was clear enough. There he stood, clinging to his mother, amber eyes wide, bloody, ripped shirt framing his shoulder for all to see. And there it was, the deep pink scar, covering his shoulder almost completely and climbing up his neck several inches, so that even now, with a clean, whole shirt, you could still see part of it.

Remus's hand unconsciously strayed to his shoulder as he asked his dad, "What does it say?" and his father pulled him closer as he began to read.

"'Boy Defeats Infamous Werewolf'. That's the headline," said John, and Remus traced the thick black letters with the fingers of his right hand, feeling the slight stiffness there, the scar seemingly old, but the injury new.

In dark times such as these, it is often hard to find even the smallest spark of hope. But early this morning, before the sun had even peeked over the horizon, one such spark ignited in a most spectacular fashion.

Remus Lupin, who turned six this past March, was wandering the woods behind his home in a bout of insomnia when out of the trees emerged none other than Fenrir Greyback himself.

Greyback is a werewolf best known for biting very young children, and then stealing them away from their parents to be raised in his "care", attempting to turn them to his views of the world. Greyback is suspected of having strong connections to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

After avoiding several attacks by the beast, young Remus used his only defense besides his own wits and reflexes, a ball full of molten silver he had found while exploring his family's attic earlier in the day. But his throw missed by only a small margin, and smashed into a large tree behind the werewolf. As he scrambled away from yet another attack, his foot caught on a heavy tree root and his right shoulder, already bruised from a former avoidance, smashed into the tree.

Remus was stuck, overcome by exhaustion and pain, as the bark had sliced deep into his shoulder and the silver had seeped into the cuts. All seemed lost as the werewolf prepared for another attack, but at the last second, Remus slipped in the mud at his feet and successfully dodged the attack.

The beast smashed into the tree, and as Remus stumbled away, he turned back to look at the injured werewolf. Greyback was badly burned by the silver and crushed by the impact, and by the time John Lupin emerged from the house, his son had already won the fight. And as the sun rose and the beast once again became a man, John Lupin hugged his injured son to his chest.

Greyback, his left arm mangled, the right side of his face and right shoulder badly burned and scarred, vowed revenge before he disappeared into the forest. John Lupin cradled his son to him for a moment, before beginning to examine the injured right shoulder.

But the shoulder, despite the fact that the torn shirt surrounding it was stained with wet blood, was not injured. Where the wounds should be, instead there was a thick, pink scar, covering his entire right shoulder, and several inches of the right side of his neck. The injury was minutes old, but the scar looked as though it had always been a part of Remus.

And it may very well have been. For his scar is a clear and physical expression of the bravery that one boy can show. By defeating this monster, by demonstrating this nearly unimaginable amount of courage, Remus Lupin has become more than an ordinary six-year-old boy.

He, and his scar, has become a symbol for hope, for courage, for light, in a time when the wizarding world needs these things above all else. Let us raise a toast to Remus Lupin, and may we all someday follow his example!

Remus looked up at his father with wide amber eyes, and John pulled his son close, arms wrapped tightly around him, fingers straying unconsciously toward the new mark on his shoulder.

"What happens now?" asked Remus, against the comforting smell and warmth of his father's shirt.

"I don't know, Remus, I really don't," John said, and then ran out of words, and pulled the boy against him again for a moment, "Why don't you go back up to bed, rest a little while before your mum gets you for lunch. You still look so tired."

Remus just looked up at him with those amber eyes again, and he scooped his son up, something that was getting harder as he got taller, and stood. Carefully climbing the stairs, he reached Remus's room and slowly moved to his bed.

As he watched his son drift off once again, John Lupin knew something about what those words, that picture meant for his son, for Remus's future. But not even he could have guessed what adventures awaited Remus.

And as for Remus himself, he was blissfully unaware of even the slightest hint of what awaited him.

A pair of green-brown eyes, caught in the intensity of the hate radiating from them. A moment of utter terror, and then an explosion of silver and pain ripped through his shoulder.

Remus awoke with a start, his hand straying automatically to his right shoulder as the pain spread up into his neck for a moment before it disappeared, leaving stiffness that he knew would linger for the rest of the day. Rolling over, hand still pressed over his shoulder, Remus buried his face in his pillow, letting the comforting scent wash over him, recalling the familiar dream.

Over five years had passed since that night, and he still had the same dream every full moon, the same flash of pain through his shoulder and neck. And always something, something that slipped away on the last tendrils of sleep, something lost to the pain and sudden wakefulness that he could never quite remember.

Pulling his face out of the pillow, he glanced over at his father, asleep in an uncomfortable wooden chair next to the window, wand clutched tightly in his right hand. John Lupin had kept the same watch over his son every full moon, Greyback's parting vow of revenge echoing in his ears.

Remus could hear the faint sounds of his mother downstairs, making breakfast, the house quiet with the twins and Grace still sleeping. The thought of food drew him from under the covers with one final stretch of his long arms over his head, and he moved to find clothes for the day. Slipping into a pair of jeans, he indulged in another stretch, this time pulling himself up to his full height with a yawn.

Remus was tall for his age, skinny, angled joints and long limbs, awkward at times as he grew into them. His sandy brown hair was long and fairly neat, fringe drifting carelessly over his bright amber eyes every so often, so that he had to push it away with an automatic move of his hand.

And on his right shoulder, still clearly visible despite his faint summer tan, the ragged scar, stretching over the entirety of the shoulder and inching up on to his neck. Even as he pulled the plain t-shirt over his head, the famous scar was still there, sneaking up over the collar into clear view along the right side of his neck. He couldn't hide his past, wore it like a badge right there on his skin for all to see.

The kitchen was full of the sweltering August heat, a weight to the air almost, but his mother still stood next to the hot stove, looking completely unfrazzled and at ease as she moved the pan of eggs to the table. She noticed Remus enter the kitchen, and smiled as she summoned the cereal from the top of the fridge and set it next to the rapidly cooling egg pan.

"Morning, love. Eggs and cereal this morning, and no chocolate syrup in the milk. I swear, you consume more chocolate in one day then all the rest of Europe combined," she said as he took a place at the table. He mock pouted for a second with a wanting glance toward the fridge, but his mum just rolled her eyes and handed him a bowl.

Rosey Lupin was a small, slight woman with a stubborn streak that left most people more willing to deal with a mother bear, and who gave hugs that could crush a grown man. Her son had inherited her sandy brown hair, hers tied back in a loose ponytail rather than the strict one she wore to St. Mungo's, but not her light blue eyes, which she rolled again as Remus tested the dimensions of the kitchen by attempting to lean his chair back far enough to snag the fridge open and retrieve the chocolate syrup he desired.

She took the seat next to him, spooning eggs on to her own plate as she looked him over. Her gaze lingered just a moment too long on the familiar scar, and her hand moved slightly out to touch it before she caught herself. Remus's own hand reached almost unconsciously up to cover the dark pink patch on his neck, suddenly self-conscious.

"Remus, if you want, I can hide it, just for today, for the trip to Diagon," she said, reaching out to touch the hand still holding his spoon, slightly soggy cereal sitting forgotten on it.

He considered it for a moment, and then thought about the crowds in Diagon Alley, how inevitably someone would notice him without seeing the scar, and the questions would come about why he was hiding it. He had been known for so long that the scar was not the only think that made him recognizable any longer.

So Remus just shook his head and returned to his breakfast, wishing desperately for chocolate syrup and an unscarred shoulder as he dug into his cooling eggs. His mother reached across him, taking his other hand away from his shoulder with her patented Be proud, Remus look in her eyes. He gave a small smile and sat up a little straighter in his chair, and she smiled back before casting a look towards the stairs.

"You finish eating, I've got to go wake your father and get your brothers ready before we head to Diagon. I hope I can just get Grace to sleep until we drop her off at your grandparents. Your letter somewhere safe?" Rosey asked, setting her plate to wash itself in the sink, and setting off up the stairs to rouse the remaining Lupin men.

Remus, after checking to see that the letter was still tucked safely into his jeans pocket (crinkled, the wax seal deteriorating a little, but safe), continued eating as he listened to the quite, familiar sounds from upstairs. Soon, his father's soft footsteps could be heard on the stairs, and the accompanying pitter-patter of the twins, Sam and Lawrence. Though Remus was built like his father, his face similar, it was the twins who had inherited the dark blue eyes full of barely restrained laughter and the wavy hair that, while still sandy brown, was the color of wet sand.

"Morning, Remus," said his dad as he took the seat Rosey had vacated when she went upstairs, "You sleep well?" he asked, the first question out of his mouth after every full moon since that warm June night over five years ago. Remus nodded as he helped Sam get his cereal, and Lawrence to avoid overflowing his bowl with milk.

John seemed to nearly inhale his own large bowl of cereal, and was pulling on his dark robes with the purple and gold Nimbus crest embroidered on the left breast as Rosey descended the steps, Grace, two years old, dozing against her mother's chest. Running a large hand across his son's heads, he dropped a kiss on Grace's head, whispering something into the soft brown hair before giving his wife a quick peck on the lips and his wide smile. Remus heard the faint pop of apparition as he went to wash his bowl and plate in the sink.

He took Grace for a few minutes as his brothers finished their breakfast and his mum fussed over the slightly messy waves of their hair. After she had deemed them appropriate for public viewing and they had followed Remus's example, washing and drying their plates, Rosey and the twins led the way into the living room.

The early morning sun shone through the picture window and glinted off the frames along the mantle, pictures of the four Lupin children, John and Rosey on their wedding day, various other members of the family. And tucked along the side, in plain view but certainly not the center of attention, was a framed copy of the article that had made him famous, edges crinkled, paper slightly yellow with age.

Still holding the sleeping Grace to her chest, Rosey cast an Incendio at the fireplace, and grabbed a small pinch of Floo powder from the jar on the table next to the hearth.

"Lawrence, Samuel, I'm going to take your sister through, and then you follow us to Grandma Julie's, okay? Be careful, and remember to enunciate. If I have to chase you to all over kingdom come, I will be very irritated, understood?" she said, and the twins nodded as they gathered up their own powder. "Remus, I'll be back in a few minutes, once I get these guys settled, so just wait and then we'll head on to Diagon Alley."

She disappeared in the green flames a few seconds later, and Sam and Law followed her, one at a time, each entering the fire as the last traces of green faded, and Remus sat patiently waiting. His hand once again rested against his shoulder, long fingers trying to work some of the stiffness out. When his mother reemerged onto the hearth, she gave him a stern look, but came to give it her own little rub before gesturing to the warm fire, stifling in the heavy heat.

Grabbing a pinch of the scratchy powder in his fingers, he tossed it into the fire and stepped in. The warmth of the flames was less uncomfortable now, and he stated his destination with a firm voice, and was whirled away. He clenched his jaw against the slight queasiness that he'd never gotten rid of while traveling by Floo, and tried to enjoy the ride.

His journey ended abruptly at The Leaky Cauldron, and Remus negotiated his long limbs out of the fireplace. His mum followed a few seconds later, and took to brushing off his clothes with vigor. He muttered something about not being six anymore as he blushed, but she continued her work until he was deemed presentable.

The Leaky Cauldron looked as it always did at this time of day, tables crowded with being and beast alike, and the smell was comforting, if the heat was even worse here then it had been at home. For a moment, Remus was hopeful, having made it nearly halfway across the bar without being recognized. But as he moved around a table, the firelight must have caught the few inches of exposed scar in just the right way, and the wizened old wizard at the table reached out for his hand.

"By Merlin's beard, it's Remus Lupin," he said, astonishment at his luck clear in his voice as he pumped Remus's hand. The small exchange would eventually halt his progress for almost ten minutes, but eager as he was to escape, Remus tried to smile through every exchange, always meeting people's eyes, trying not to slouch, even as the heat grew more terrible with each second. His mother always told him he that he should be nice to these people, that they admired him, that they didn't do it to annoy him, but rather because he inspired them.

And just as it was becoming tedious, his shoulder growing stiffer with each eye that fell on it, Tom's voice could be heard over the slight din, "All right, folks, all right. Young Lupin's got to go off and fetch his school stuff, let the young feller breath." Remus's knees nearly gave out in thanks, and he gave a nod of appreciation as his mother began to cut a path through the crowd. The old barkeep gave a wink as he returned to cleaning glasses behind the bar.

When they'd escaped the warm tavern through the brick wall into the fresh air of bustling Diagon Alley, Remus's mum directed him toward Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, while she went to Gringotts to collect the money they would need for the rest of his supplies.

He managed to make it across the cobblestone street and into the clothing shop without being noticed, and stood just inside the door quietly, not sure what to do. He'd only been here once before, with his mother when she was being fitted with a robe for a friend's wedding.

A dark haired witch who Remus identified as Madame Malkin from the picture on the sign hanging over the small desk, bustled up, saying, "Oh, dear, I'm sorry, we're a little shorthanded today. Hold on one moment, Master McNair. Just jump up next to this young fellow here, there you go, let me get a robe. Quite tall, aren't you? Well, no worries, we'll get you all fixed up in a moment. Martha! Could you come finish up Master McNair's hem here?"

Her pretty young assistant, Martha apparently, blond hair tied up in a serious ponytail, passed the older witch as she bustled off to find an appropriate robe for Remus, and took over her work on the other boy's robe. Remus was still reeling from the velocity of her words.

Remus looked over at the boy next to him as he waited. His long black hair was slicked back, and he had features like a hawk, hooked nose and a serious mouth, dark, predatory eyes that were focused on Remus intensely. He tried not to squirm under the hard gaze and thanked God that the boy was on his left side, unable to see the scar.

"Any idea what house you'll be in?" asked the boy suddenly, eyes not leaving Remus, and Remus could see the look of slight recognition sneaking into his gaze, prayed that Madame Malkin hurried. He shook his head, and the boy scoffed and looked almost disappointed in him.

"I'm almost a sure lock for Slytherin," said the boy, glancing down at Martha for a moment and rolling his eyes, "My family's been sorted there for generations. Any idea where you'll end up?" he asked again, and Remus shook his head. The boy seemed to be growing bored with both the conversation and the fitting, but he continued to study Remus with growing intensity, as though he was determined to figure how he knew him.

Just as Remus was sure he would figure it out, Madame Malkin gave his leg a pat, "That's you done, young man," and he jumped down from the stool and away from the other boy, trying not to let him see his neck. His mother was waiting for him by the counter, and he stood next to her as she paid for the package that Madame Malkin handed her. As they left, Remus could hear the other young man speaking to Martha in a harsh tone, telling her to hurry up, as he had other, better things to do.

"I stopped by the apothecary and the parchment shop on my way, as I figured you wouldn't be too particular about that, so we've just got a stop at Flourish and Blotts, and then your wand left. And," she said with a smile, looking down slightly at her son, detecting his uneasy mood, "your father has decided that you should have an owl. We figure it will be easier to keep your siblings from begging for your return home if you can at least write to them." His face lit up at the news, and Rosey was glad to see the troubled look leave her son's amber eyes.

"Well, come on then. Flourish and Blotts first, and then we'll stop by that new shop, Eelyops or something, and see if we can't find you something suitable."

They managed to make it to Flourish and Blotts without being noticed, but several people, including the clerk working behind the counter, recognized him, and Remus, embarrassed, signed several copies of a book called Child Heroes of The War: Their Lives and Legends.

After the bookstore, they headed for Eelyops, and as they walked into the darkened main room, Remus saw the bird he wanted almost immediately. A majestic black creature, not small, but not one of the massive hulking ones that lined the bottom shelves, with piercing yellow eyes.

"A beautiful bird, that one. Good eye, young man," said the clerk that came forward, a wild haired, wide-eyed boy who didn't really look all that much older then Remus.

"We'll take him," said Rosey, and while his mother paid and the clerk transferred the owl to an easier to transport cage, Remus waited impatiently for his present to be delivered to his eager hands. After everything was taken care of, the cage was handed to Remus, and as they emerged from the shop back into the street, the owl buried his head under his wing and fell asleep.

"Just your wand left then, and there's only one place for that, of course. Lead on, Remus," she said, and he did, handing the cage to his mother as he moved through the crowds unnoticed, not really realizing the excitement that was building inside of him until he pushed open the door.

The air was thick with dust and silence, and it nearly stole his breath away. The shop was empty, and Remus looked around curiously for a moment before he heard the sound of wheels sliding over the wooden floor, and looked up in time to see a ladder click into place in front him, a small man hopping down and scurrying over to Remus in a mouse-like manner to study him with wide silver eyes.

"Young Mr. Lupin. I suspected it was about time for you to be coming in. Your mother brought you?" he said, just as Rosey walked in and set the cage gently on the floor next to one of the benches along the back wall. "Ahhh, a marvelous wand you have, Rosey, stiff as a sickle, wonderful for Charms, your husband's as well. Well, let us get started, Mr. Lupin. Your wand arm?" Remus lifted up his right arm, and he could feel Mr. Ollivander's unusual eyes on the edge of the scar as he set his tape measure to work.

As it worked, the old man wandered off into the seemingly endless shelves, and the shop fell into silence again except for the slight rustling of the tape measure and Mr. Ollivander's persistent muttering as he looked through the vast collection of wands.

Finally, the tape measure crumpled to the ground at Remus's feet, and moments later, Mr. Ollivander emerged from the shelves, holding a single, incredibly dusty box. Looking distracted, he withdrew the wand and handed it to Remus, muttering, "Thirteen inches, oak, phoenix tail feather."

Remus took the wand, and could feel the warmth spreading up his fingers, spreading up into the scar, and as he raised the wand up to eye level, a burst of silver smoke exploded from the end with a small bang, twisting up and up for a few moments before disappearing slowly into thin air. Rosey smiled behind her son, but Ollivander just reached for the wand, placed it carefully back into the box and turned away from Remus, a strange expression on his face.

"Sir?" asked Remus, nervous about the expression as Ollivander blew the dust off the box and began to carefully wrap it, "Is something wrong?"

Ollivander looked up from his task and considered Remus for a moment, before leaning close, so that only he could hear him. "Remus," he said, and Remus was shocked by the use of his first name, "this wand has been sitting in this shop since my grandfather was a boy. I myself am far from young, so you can only imagine how many years it has been sitting on those shelves waiting for you. But that's not the only thing that makes this wand special, that makes this connection… extraordinary.

"The phoenix that gave the feather for this wand was a brilliant, almost blinding silver. It was not unique, nor is this the only feather it gave, but it cannot be coincidence that this wand, which lay dormant for so long, has finally picked someone with such an," and here, Ollivander reached out a single finger and shocked Remus by laying it against the exposed scar for a moment before pulling it back, "interesting past," he finished, and then returned to his wrapping of the wand as though nothing had happened, as though nothing he had said mattered a bit.

Wordlessly, he handed over the package, and Remus took it, still reeling, and softly bid him good day. His mother was still sitting by the door; Remus's new owl at her feet, and the sight pulled him back to the real world, out of the mystery and myth that Ollivander had woven. Rosey paid and Mr. Ollivander met Remus's eyes for a moment before he followed his mum out of the shop, and then the sunshine nearly blinded him, and the old man disappeared within the shop again.

Hours later, Remus lay in his bed, open book having slipped down onto the floor, on the edge of sleep. The black owl, who'd been named Shaaro, a favorite character from an old book Remus had loved as a child, had been let out, free to glide through the night sky, and his cage sat empty on Remus's desk.

Right before he dropped off, Remus thought of Ollivander's strange eyes, so close and big, wider even then usual, if that was possible, his whispered words, the very things that mystery and destiny seemed to be made off, the power of the wand as it flowed into his arm and shoulder, the energy filling the scar.

In a week, Remus would be headed for Hogwarts, where he hoped some of the answers could be found.

For anyone outside of the magical world, there was nothing out of the ordinary about the tall, sandy haired boy walking towards Platforms 9 and 10 with his family, except for perhaps the large scar on his neck. But someone who was a part of the wizarding world would have known exactly what Remus's scar meant as he pushed his cart through the barrier on to Platform 9 and 3/4.

He stared up in awe at the huge scarlet engine. It was a breathtaking sight, but he only saw it for a few moments before his mum enveloped him in one of her crushing hugs. Remus could hear the barely restrained tears in her voice as she spoke into his hair.

"You be careful, okay? And behave yourself," she said as sternly as she could manage, gripping his upper arms tightly and holding him at arm's length. "It would be nice if a month or two passed before I started getting letters from your professors, all right? I love you so much," she said before pulling him close again and squeezing him tightly.

"I love you, too," Remus said back, and Rosey hugged him for a few more moments before releasing him to his dad.

"Time to prove yourself, R. J.," said John, extending a hand toward Remus as they both smiled at the affectionate nickname, before pulling him into a tight hug. Remus pulled in a deep breath of his father's comforting scent, an old habit, and felt some of his nervousness filter away as his dad said, "I know you'll make me even prouder of you than I am now."
Grace, nestled against John's chest, reached out and grabbed a handful of Remus's long hair gently, smiling at him as she tugged lightly. He reached his own hand up to wrap around hers, and her smile grew as the twins wrapped their arms around him, silently, trying to appear brave at Remus's leaving for reasons that only six year olds understood.

"I'll write you two so often you'll get sick of my letters," he said, and Lawrence and Sam nodded against his stomach before releasing him and moving towards Rosey, who silently nodded at the train, still barely holding back tears.

"You'd better go find yourself a compartment, they fill up awfully fast," his dad said, putting an arm around his wife, and Remus nodded shakily and placed Shaaro's cage on his trunk. Pushing it away from his family, he tried not to look back, as seeing the distance between them made the platform seem immeasurably large.

About halfway down the train, he saw two red-haired boys struggling to push a trunk up the stairs as a group of children with the same vivid hair stood watching around their legs. Remus left his own trunk for a moment and moved next to the shorter of the two boys, who smiled in gratitude through his effort. When they'd managed to get the trunk off the stairs and onto the floor of the car, the taller boy, strands of his long red hair drifting out of its ponytail, extended his hand to Remus.

"Thanks for the hand, mate," said the older boy, "I'm Bill Weasley, Head Boy, and this is my younger brother, Charlie. And, well, all of these are ours too," he added, gesturing to the crowd of smaller children, "And you're?" he asked, but before Remus could respond, Bill's eyes found the exposed part of the scar.

"You're Remus Lupin!" said Charlie, who had apparently seen the scar too, and extended his own hand for him to shake. Remus glanced around quickly, trying not to look too nervous at the thought of his name being said so loudly. But nobody else had seemed to notice in the bustle of the platform, and Remus turned back to the other boy with a slight nod.

"This is, uh, I mean, it's," said Charlie, whose red hair was cropped close to his head in comparison with his brother, but he couldn't manage a full sentence. His brother laughed and punched him gently on the shoulder.

"Forgive him, he can be a bit star-struck. You should have seen him when we saw Peta Corner at the Leaky Cauldron one time. Well, if you need anything, Remus, just let me know," said Bill, and grabbed two of the scrambling children around his feet by the shoulders with his long arms, "Fred, George, you watch it. Come on guys, back to mum and dad for you. Charlie and I have to get going."

Remus gave a short wave and pulled his trunk down a few more cars. With great effort, he managed to get it up the short staircase and into an empty compartment, and went back to retrieve Shaaro's cage from the platform. The staircase was blocked by a large trunk though, and Remus, noticing that the owner seemed to be struggling as much as he had, seized the handle closest to him and tugged. When the trunk was sitting in the aisle of the car, Remus expected the owner to emerge immediately, but he had to wait a few seconds before he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

The boy that stepped into the aisle on the other side of the trunk had Shaaro's cage in one hand and the cage of a large eagle owl in the other. His shock yellow hair stuck out in odd directions all over the place, and his blue eyes seemed to flash with a hint of electricity as he smiled. He extended Shaaro's cage over to Remus, who took him with a quiet thanks.

"He looked lonely out on the platform, I thought he might be yours," he said, shrugging slightly, "I'm Adam. Adam Chamberlain."

"I'm Remus Lupin," Remus answered, habitual hesitation evident in his voice, and he nearly cringed as the other boy's eyes widened slightly.

"Nice to meet you," was his only verbal response though, and Remus breathed a sigh of hesitant relief, "Got any room in your compartment? Everywhere else is just about full up."

"Sure. I'm in there by myself right now."

Adam clambered over the trunk without too much trouble, handing the other cage to Remus, who took it and led the way to his compartment. After they'd stowed Adam's trunk, and settled their owls on the floor, they sat across from each other, and stared out the window for a time at the still bustling platform in silence.

"So, you're really him?" asked Adam, after a few minutes, but when Remus looked from the window to the other boy, he blushed and looked away.

"Yeah, I'm really him," said Remus, unconsciously titling his head to more openly reveal the part of his scar that reached up onto his neck. Adam seemed stunned for a moment, but quickly composed himself, and smiled at Remus.

"Cool. My dad always loved to tell me about you, before he died," said Adam, and then again seemed embarrassed at his words, "Sorry, you probably don't want to hear about that kind of stuff the second you get on the train. Mum says I've got a problem when I'm nervous, blurting stuff out and such."

"How'd he die?" asked Remus, and then blushed as well and wondered if he perhaps had the same problem as Adam.

"He was an Auror. Killed in action when I was seven, a few months before Halloween," said Adam, and silence fell over the compartment again. There was no need to ask what Halloween he was referring to, or why that was his reference point.

Remus, searching around for something to say, looked out the still open doors in time to see a girl with vivid pink hair trip over what appeared to be nothing more than her own feet and pitch forward. Remus moved quickly out of his seat and managed to wrap an arm tightly around her waist before she collided with the floor.

When he pulled her up to vertical again, his eyes met her own dark brown ones, and he felt a strange warmth spread through him as she smiled, "Wotcher. Thanks," she said, and he returned the smile.

"Need a seat? We've got plenty of room," he said, and then wondered what had caused him to extend the invitation. It was true that they had plenty of room, and she seemed nice enough, so he blamed it on that and grabbed the girl's trunk when she nodded.

"Thanks again," she said when they'd stashed her trunk and they'd settled into seats, her next to Remus, Adam sitting across from them, still staring out the window, though he'd acknowledged the new girl politely when she'd entered behind Remus, "I'm Nymphadora Tonks, though you should just call me," and she leaned forward and dropped her voice here, as though waiting for someone to jump out and catch her, "Tonks."

Remus raised his eyebrows at her as Adam seemed to come back from wherever he had been after talking about his father to laugh at her, and she shrugged, "I don't like my first name, but my mum doesn't think it's lady-like to go by Tonks, so I don't tell her. Or, I try not to. It slips out in arguments sometimes that I can't believe they would give me such a dreadful name. She doesn't seem to appreciate my thoughts on the matter very much. Do you two have names, or are you simply Tall Boy and Blonde Boy?"

"Adam, Adam Chamberlain."

"Remus Lupin."

Rather than gaping in amazement as he had grown used to people doing, Tonks smirked and then, as though unable to contain it, gave several hearty laughs, "That's amazing. The word started going up and down the platform that you were here, and I've never seen more people boasting that they'd already seen, met, or were sharing a compartment with you. And here I am, little old me, actually sitting in the compartment with the real life Remus Lupin."

Remus wasn't quite sure how to reply to this, but it seemed like a pleasant enough reaction and certainly better than most, so he just smiled and relaxed the tension that had taken a grip on his shoulders at his own utterance of his name. The cabin was silent except for Tonks's laughter for a few moments until Adam spoke up.

"Does she think the pink hair is lady-like? Your mum?" asked Adam, his eyebrows rising to indicate the bright, colorful spikes.

Tonks laughed, "Not lady-like, but she's never really made a fuss over it. Says I was born like that, and as long as I don't change it when we're around Muggles, than I can wear it any way I wish."

"Change it?" asked Remus, and Tonks screwed up her pale, heart-shaped face, the pink spikes turning dark blue and tumbling down her back. She smiled as the two boys looked on in astonishment as her hair returned to its original style and color.

"I'm a Metamorphmagus," she said proudly; smile widening as Adam continued to stare in question, although Remus brightened at the last word.

"A whatsit?"

"It means that she can change her appearance at will, without outside magic. You must be the only registered one in the past fifty years," said Remus, trying not to look too awestruck even as he openly stared, "You'll make people forget all about me when they find out about you," he said, and then ducked his head and unconsciously allowed his hand to stray to the exposed piece of the scar, "I mean, not that they'll be paying all that much attention to me after they actually meet me."

Tonks just laughed harder at his words, "Are you joking? I can make funny faces and turn my hair strange colors. You're Remus Lupin, the Remus Lupin, the boy who was barely six when he defeated one of the most feared werewolves in modern history, not to mention a werewolf that was in the inner circle of You-Know-Who. Half the kids in the castle were told about you as a bedtime story."

"So it's true," said a voice from the compartment door, still open even as the train began to move, "The heroic Remus Lupin does indeed grace us with his grand presence. Who'd of thought the Weasleys knew a thing," the voice continued as the occupants of the compartment turned to face the boy.

Remus recognized the boy from Madame Malkin's, with his slick black hair, hooked nose, and those predator eyes that were studying Remus with even more interest than the day back at the clothing shop. Now though, he was flanked by a girl with vivid yellow hair, drawn up into two slightly ridiculous pigtails, and a large boy with thick, tangled hair the color of very dry dirt, so large that he looked almost uncomfortably cramped standing in the doorway.

"Adelbert McNair," he said, extending a hand toward Remus, who took it gingerly, "We met in Madame Malkin's. This is Daisy Williams, and Raymond Leen, old friends of mine," continued McNair, and Remus wondered momentarily how one could address people as 'old friends' when they were eleven, but was distracted when the other boy turned his hawk-like eyes on the other two people in the compartment.

"Hello, Nymphadora. Long time, no see. It's a pity you can never make it to the family reunions, they are such fun," he said, and Tonks clenched her fists, but seemed to curl into herself slightly at the words. Remus reached out a hand, almost without realizing it, and rested it on her shoulder as McNair continued, "And my father worked with yours, Chamberlain, before your father's untimely death. A tragedy that," he said, then turned to Remus with an almost bored expression, "Well, Ray can help you with your trunk if you'd like to move down to my compartment, it's not very far."

The dark-haired boy raised his eyebrows, clearly expecting Remus to answer affirmatively and stand to join him, but Remus just looked at the other two, drawn into their own worlds by McNair's comments, and answered, "Why would I want to do that?"

McNair laughed, "Oh, please, Remus, you can't possibly want to be seen spending time with this type of riff-raff," he seemed poised to continue in this vain, but Remus cut him off.

"I think they're exactly the kind of riff-raff I want to hang out with. Or are we ignoring the fact that I'm just as half-blooded as either of them? Still want to be best pals? Either way, I think it's time for you to go," said Remus, standing and putting himself in between the door and Tonks and Adam.

"I can see you're almost beyond hope, Lupin," said McNair, dropping Remus's first name along with the smile before whirling around to stalk off, the girl and the hulking boy following meekly along, or as meekly as the massive boulder of boy could manage. The compartment remained silent, so quiet that Remus could hear the sound of wheels rolling down the aisle, and a smiling late middle-aged woman approached him with a cart full of treats and candies.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked, but the other two didn't respond at all, self-contained in whatever memories McNair's words had brought up. Remus dug into his pocket for the money he had there, and bought as much as he could carry before thanking the woman and re-entering the compartment. Carefully picking out a Pumpkin Pastie, he sat down next to Tonks and offered it to her with a half-smile.

"Nymphadora is a beautiful name," he said, and she looked up in surprise. "You know what's a stupid name? Adelbert," he continued, and she accepted the treat with a smile.

"Hey," he said to Adam, who looked away from the window and the scenery now rapidly flashing by in time to catch the Cauldron Cake Remus tossed his way. "That guy is a jerk, and he says that stuff to get you down. Don't let him win," Remus said, and tried not to feel ridiculous, preaching to these people with problems he clearly didn't understand. But Adam reached across to grab another Cauldron Cake and Tonks was already struggling with the wrapper of her Pumpkin Pastie.

The rest of the trip passed undisturbed, and just as they were reaching the bottom of the pile of treats, a deep voice came over an unseen intercom to let them know that they were ten minutes from their destination, and that there was no need to bring their trunks off with them, as they would be taken up to the dormitory at a separate time.

Tonks ducked into the compartment across the aisle, which had emptied out at some point, to change, while the boys pulled on their own things in their original compartment. She had just returned when the train slowed to a stop, and they began trying to make their way through the crowded hallway and out on to the platform.

When they finally managed it, the group skirted around a couple of older Hufflepuffs who seemed about to come to blows in their argument, heading towards a high lantern and a voice that was calling out, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Reaching the faint circle of light given off by the lantern held high above the heads of the students, Remus found himself looking at the largest man he had ever seen.

His massive head was covered in thick black hair and a matching beard, but the dark eyes were jewel-like, and Remus felt comfortable around the large man almost instantly. Once the crowd of nervous looking first years had gathered around him, the big man lowered the lantern so it better illuminated them, and spoke in a deep, booming voice.

"This all of ya', than?" a few timid nods, "Well, I'm Rubeus Hagrid, but you all should just call me Hagrid, like everybody else, an' I'm the Keeper of Keys and Grounds here at Hogwarts, but tonight it's me job to get you all up to the castle fer the sortin' and such in one piece. All righ', follow me," he said, raising the lantern again to count heads and then setting off for a break in the trees. The first years followed nervously.

The sky had darkened to a deep purple, and as hard as Remus tried to concentrate on the uneven, slippery ground of the thin, steep path, visibility was almost zero. Generally, the only thing Remus could see in the darkness was Adam's electric blonde and Tonks's pink hair. Several times, Tonks slipped on the precarious footing and Remus had to catch her. The last time she slipped, it nearly sent them both crashing into the trees that lined the path, and she was still apologizing profusely, despite Remus telling her it was no big deal, when the ground finally leveled off and they found themselves standing next to a small fleet of boats.

"No more'n four to a boat!" shouted Hagrid, and Remus, Adam and Tonks clambered into one of the boats, joined by a boy with floppy brown hair and sad gray eyes who introduced himself as Lewis Lister. When all the first years had settled into their boats, Hagrid climbed into his own boat, and set the small fleet off with a shout of "Go!"

As the boats drifted slightly left, they finally broke around the thickest part of the trees, and a collective gasp went up from the occupants of the boats. Before them, candle-lit windows illuminating the outlines of its many towers against the inky, star-filled sky, grander than anything they'd imagined it as, stood Hogwarts castle.

The remainder of the ride across the lake was spent in relative silence while the collection of first years stared in awe at the immense castle. They craned their necks to look up as they got closer and closer, and sailed across its huge, blurred reflection in the lake, entering a tunnel through a curtain of ivy, where the boats came to a slow stop.

Clambering out of the small crafts, the first years once again gathered around Hagrid, who took a quick headcount, checked the boats for anything left behind, and set off up another path. The students followed silently, and they'd barely been walking for two minutes when the path ended in the huge wooden doors that marked the entrance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

They waited, still silent, as Hagrid raised one huge fist and gave two booming knocks against the wood. Moments later, the doors swung open to reveal a stern looking woman in dark robes the color of red wine, and Remus fought the urge to study his shoes as her fierce gaze swept the crowd of first years.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid, sweeping a giant hand around the back of the group to herd them into the light of the hall.

"Thank you, Hagrid, I'll take them from here," she said, though Remus, and most of the other first years it seemed, barely heard her as they stared up in awe at the giant hall they now stood in, with grand doors much like they had just entered across from them and a huge sweeping marble staircase to their right.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall, managing to tear the first years' attention away from the sight of the hall with the stern tone, "The start-of-term banquet will begin soon, with your Sorting. The Sorting is very important, because during your time at Hogwarts, your house will be like your family. You will have classes with your house, sleep in your house dormitories, and spend time in your house common rooms. And even after you leave the school, your house loyalties will stay with you.

"The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has it's own illustrious history and has produced great wizards and witches. While at Hogwarts, your good deeds and triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule breaking will lose you points. At the end-of-the-year feast, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup.

"The Sorting Ceremony will begin shortly. Until then, please wait in the room off of this hall for me to return and get you. Please wait quietly," she added, with another intense gaze over the group before directing them towards the room where they were supposed to wait and leaving.

Remus looked over at Adam, who was running a hand quickly through his mass of blond spikes, and the boy standing next to Adam, with a brown crew cut and dark green eyes, leaned around Adam, smiled nervously and addressed Remus.

"I'm Chris Adams. Know anything about this Sorting Ceremony?"

"You try on an old hat," said Adam, introducing himself to the other boy as well.

Chris laughed in relief, "That's it? I've had people trying to convince me all day that we'd have to wrestle a troll." Professor McGonagall entered the room as the boy finished his sentence.

"Form an orderly, single-file line and follow me," she said, and the first years did as they were told with only minimal shoving and jostling. Tonks was in front of him, while Adam and Lewis were behind him as they followed Professor McGonagall silently.

The first thing Remus noticed about the Great Hall when he entered it was the vast, starry sky that appeared above his head as he passed through the door. His parents had told him about the enchanted ceiling, but nothing could quite prepare you for the real thing. The line was led between four long tables, two on either side, at which the older students were seated and above which floated thousands of enchanted candles.

The line halted in front of a four-legged stool in front of the High Table, on which sat an extremely dirty, frayed wizard's hat. Remus watched in awe as the hall quieted, a long rip at the brim opened, and the hat began to sing.

Though many moons have passed,

Since the founders of this school first set out,

Upon their journey to educate young magic folks,

There's still plenty of them left in me,

So please try me on for size

And I'll let you know your rightful place

Perhaps you belong in Gryffindor,

The house the noble call their own

The brave will certainly find it their home

Or perhaps it's Hufflepuff for you

With your loyal heart

Unafraid of toil

Maybe in Ravenclaw is where you should dwell

Open a book for a spell

For wit and learning are your companions there

Or Slytherin is your home

Your cunning and ambition will help

You'll fit right in

So go ahead, put me on and open up that mind of yours

As the Sorting Hat, it's my job to tell you where to go!

The hall burst into wild applause, and the hat became still again after giving a short bow to each of the tables. Professor McGonagall stepped up next to the stool and opened a long scroll.

"When I say your name, please come forward and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said, "Abbey, Kathleen!"

A short girl with long red hair made her way forward and took her place on the stool. The hall waited in dead silence for a few moments before the rip along the brim opened and the hat's voice filled the hall again.

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped, and Kathleen went over to take a seat as Professor McGonagall peered down at her list again.

"Adams, Christopher!"

The boy who'd introduced himself to Remus and Adam stepped out of his place in the line in front of Tonks and took a seat on the stool. It took longer for the hat to decide with Chris, but thirty seconds after he'd sat down, it shouted again.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

This time, the table on the right cheered as Chris made his way over.

"Alroth, Doug!" A smiling, thin boy with dark skin and long black hair tied back in a short ponytail came forward, and joined Chris at the Hufflepuff table.

"Bramble, Moret!" became a Slytherin almost as quickly as the hat touched her head, and Remus's eyes were drawn towards the second table from the right. The applause there was reserved and formal, and seemed out of place following the eruptions of the Hufflepuff table at the announcement of Chris and Doug's house. Even the Ravenclaws, the house of normally reserved intellectuals, had managed a few war whoops for Kathleen, if the image had looked strange as the non-whoopers rose to shake Kathleen's hand as she found her place. But Moret seemed perfectly happy with the minor applause. Remus looked away from the table, but not before he saw the ghost hanging above it, his long robes covered in something silver and ominous.

"Brees, Winfield!"

A bored looking boy, whose long, un-kept brown hair fell carelessly across his light eyes, slouched up to the stool and took his place under the hat. For almost two whole minutes, he sat there, still slouched, arms crossed, head titled forward slightly, totally relaxed where everyone else seemed more nervous then they'd been in their entire lives. Remus thought he looked almost like a statue, unmoving, handsome and solid in his unshakableness in the dead silence of the hall. A moment later though, the illusion was broken as the rip along the hat's edge opened again.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The table on the far left burst into thunderous applause, and the celebration taking place at the Gryffindor table put that of all the others to shame as various catcalls and war whoops accompanied Winfield's approach to the table. He flashed a smile at the people slapping his back, and then returned to looking rather disinterested in everything that was going on.

"Chamberlain, Adam!"

Remus heard the boy behind him take a deep breath as he stepped out of line and made the short walk up toward the stool; feeling himself brace unconsciously for the result, wondering where Adam, who he already considered a friend, would end up. For fifteen seconds, Remus clenched his fists in the silence of the hall before the rip opened wide.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The wild cheering filled the hall again, and Adam made his way over to the table quickly, smiling wide, parts of his hair oddly flattened from the hat, but already springing back into place.

The Sorting had slowed a little, Winfield and another boy, "Bartlett, Leo," having taken almost five minutes between them before being sorted to their respective houses, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, but it picked up again as "Eugene, Mary," and "Folds, Sylvia" followed Winfield and Adam to Gryffindor and "Gomes, Yvette," became a Ravenclaw. The hat took its time with some of the students, but others had barely sat down before they were off to their tables amid applause from the others already seated. Leen, the huge boy who had followed McNair on the train, quickly went to Slytherin.

The ceremony continued, and it seemed that McGonagall had reached "Lister, Lewis," in no time at all. Remus turned to look at the boy behind him, an intense feeling of nerves growing heavy in his stomach. But Lewis just stared intently at Professor McGonagall, as though he hadn't heard her.

"Hey, isn't that you?" asked Remus, inclining his head towards the hat. The other boy smiled gratefully and stepped out of line. Over two minutes later, he joined the Gryffindor table next to Winfield.

Tonks moved back towards Remus a little as he heard it: "Lupin, Remus." And the conversations that had been peppering the hall as they waited for the next name to be called ceased immediately as he stepped out of the line and everyone craned to get a better look at him. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head, and his view of the hall was replaced with the soft blackness of the interior.

"Remus Lupin," said a tiny voice in his ear, "Well, well, I think it's been quite a while since I've had such a highly anticipated Sorting. I myself am a little giddy to meet you, and I've been around for quite a long time. I've seen just about everything there is, wouldn't you agree? Let's have a look inside this head of yours than, shall we? Everyone out there is wishing you end up in his or her own house, but almost all of them have already sorted you inside their heads, don't you think? And personally, I think your head and heart agree with your past. That means there's just the one place for you," said the hat, and then the voice grew to address the entire hall.

"GRYFFINDOR!" screamed the hat, and Remus thought the whoops that went up from the Gryffindor table were certainly sufficient to blow out a person's eardrums. Most of the older students, the fifth, sixth and seventh years, were on their feet, and anonymous hands reached out to shake his. One older student, with stiffly gelled black spikes and huge green eyes, made a move to climb on to the table, but his actions were stopped with one particularly stern glance from McGonagall, who seemed barely able to contain her own happiness as he winked at her and returned to his seat. Remus dropped into the seat next to Adam with a smile, which he returned.

The Sorting was much more enjoyable without the knot of nervousness in his gut, and Remus settled down to watch. McNair followed Leen to the Slytherin table even quicker than Moret had been sorted, and he took his seat next to the hulking boy with a smirk.

When Tonks was called, she moved forward slowly, scowling at the unapologetic use of her first name, obviously trying to hide her clumsiness. She sat on the stool for almost as long as Lewis had, and when the hat finally shouted out her house, Remus could almost hear just the slightest hint of something like hesitation in its voice.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Remus cheered along with the rest of the table, and Tonks managed to make it almost all the way to the seat on Remus's left without tripping, but at the last second, her own feet seemed to betray her. Remus and Adam both reached out an arm, and managed to provide sufficient leverage and support for her to catch herself and sit down.

"I don't think anyone saw. Your secret's safe with us," said Adam, smiling at Tonks as "Turpin, Ralston," became a Ravenclaw.

Tonks rolled her eyes, "I don't think it'll be a secret for very long, unless everyone at this school is blind and an idiot."

After Ralston, there were only three people left, and after "Victor, Jeremiah," a black boy with long dreadlocks who rivaled Leen in size had been sorted into Gryffindor, and "Warren, Claire," and "Zabbnit, Evan," took their places at the Hufflepuff table, the Sorting Ceremony was over. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and disappeared through a side door behind the High Table as a tall man with a long silver beard and hair to match stood from the center of the table: Albus Dumbledore, headmaster.

"Welcome, everyone, to another wonderful year at Hogwarts!" he said, smiling out over the gathered students, "Now, I'll spare the announcements until after dinner, as I'm sure you are all quite famished. Bon appetite!"

Remus looked away from Dumbledore at the golden dishes on the table, and nearly fell out of his chair in surprise. Even for those who came from wizarding families, the sudden appearance of the massive amount of food that now covered the table was quite a shock the first time you saw it. Recovering quickly, Remus filled the plate in front of him with as much as it would hold and dug in.

"Thank you," said Lewis, from across the table, in a voice so quiet that Remus was surprised he could hear him at all.

"No problem. Everybody zones out every once and a while, right?" he said, but Lewis just half-smiled and shook his head.

"Oh, I wasn't, uh, zoning out. There were, well, there were some serious complications when I was born, and my ears paid the price. At times, I lose as much as seventy percent of my hearing. I was hoping that I could just read McGonagall's lips, but I was too far away," he explained, still talking very quietly, almost whispering.

"Oh. That doesn't sound fun," Remus said, not sure how to respond.

"It's okay. It only happens every once and awhile. I was hoping it wouldn't happen tonight, but it's just my luck," he said, and looked so sad that Remus wished he were better at knowing what to say.

"Cheer up, young fellow!" said a ghost in a ruff and tights who'd floated over towards the group of first years, "I'm sure all you new Gryffindors are ready to help us win the House Cup this year! Slytherin has won two years in a row now, and the Bloody Baron is getting unbearable. He's the Slytherin house ghost." He placed a hand on Lewis's shoulder, and Lewis shivered.

"And you're our house ghost?" asked Sylvia, looking the ghost over.

"Yes, I am. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington," he seemed about to continue, but the boy with the huge green eyes who'd tried to climb on the table earlier cut him off.

"Ah, Nick, do we have to go through this every year? Kiddies," said the boy, leaning over towards the first years, "listen to Uncle Ben. Nobody calls him that. Everybody calls him," and here he paused to wink cheekily at Nick, who seemed resigned to his fate at this point, "Nearly Headless Nick," he said, delivering the last three words with a gusto you normally saw only in a theater, and he'd raised his voice so that the whole table could hear him, and they all gave a cheer, while Nick sighed and floated off to find better company before any of the first years could ask how someone could be 'nearly headless.' They weren't sure if they were glad of this or not.

Remus was beginning to feel drowsy as the desserts appeared, and his gaze drifted from the conversations of his fellow students up to the High Table. He was surprised to find someone staring back, a pale man with long greasy hair and eyes that looked like tunnels from this distance. The man was glaring at Remus intensely, and he certainly didn't look happy to see him.

Both the teacher and Remus were distracted by Dumbledore standing, and as the professor's gaze left him, Remus tried to shrug off the bad feeling about the man that had settled in between his shoulder blades. The headmaster swept his gaze over the hall with a smile before he began to speak, and the chatter and clattering of silverware that had filled the hall died almost immediately at his first word.

"Again, it is my pleasure to welcome all of you to another new year at Hogwarts! Just a few start of term notices before we turn in now that we are all properly stuffed.

"First years should note that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off limits. No student should enter the Forest without express permission and staff supervision. Magic should only be performed in the corridors in case of emergencies, and no, being late to class is not an emergency requiring you to hex those classmates you may or may not blame for your tardiness," he said, a twinkle in his eyes as he scanned the tables, "Quidditch trials will be held in two weeks time, and those wishing to try out for their House Teams should contact their team's captain or Madame Hooch as soon as possible. And now, I believe it's time for us all to head to bed. First years, if you would please find a prefect from your house to show you the way."

Remus, Adam and Tonks moved with the rest of the group towards the boy who'd introduced them to Nearly Headless Nick. Some of the first years looked skeptical that the boy who'd less then an hour earlier tried to climb on to the table at Remus's sorting could be a prefect, but the shiny silver badge was indeed pinned to his chest and he waited patiently for the group to gather around him.

"This all of you? All right then, I'm Ben Boyce, but you can call me Uncle Ben, because that's what everybody calls me. Or you can call me Overlord Ben, which nobody calls me, but I've been trying to get that started for four years now, and maybe this is finally the year it catches on. I'm the fifth year Gryffindor prefect, but only because Charlie Weasley's an early, so you guys don't have to worry about cramping my style by saying hello to me in the corridors or asking for help around the Common Room, 'cause Charlie's stolen all the mojo from the guys in our year by basically being a God, with a capital G. And I would hate him for it, but he's one stand up chap, so don't any of you go around saying Uncle Ben spoke ill of Charlie, 'cause he's one of my best mates. All right then, shall we go?" he said, and the first years were too bowled over by the rapid-fire words to do anything but nod. They followed him through the crowd leaving the Great Hall, and watched in slight amazement as it seemed every hand attached to someone wearing the red and gold of Gryffindor reached out to slap his hand as he passed. It seemed that Ben had quite a bit of his own 'mojo'.

"Now, I'll warn you guys right now, you are not going to be able to remember all these passageways and corridors immediately, but with time, it'll be like the back of your hand. So seriously, feel free to ask for help from anyone. Well, try and find me or somebody else from Gryffindor, but the Hufflepuffs are always pretty helpful. The Hufflepuffs are good people, right Gary?" he said, his voice rising at the last sentence to call out to another prefect leading the Hufflepuff first years.

"Hell yeah, we are," said Gary, nodding his head at Ben, and Ben grinned in return and led them up another staircase. Remus was already beginning to lose track, and the slight haze created from good food and sleepiness certainly wasn't making it any easier.

They'd been walking for nearly ten minutes when a man with long brown hair in need of a wash wearing patched robes rushed past them going the opposite direction, and for an instant, Remus's amber eyes met the man's pale blue ones. At the same time, a crippling pain ripped through his scar and he stumbled slightly as it shot around the rest of his body before settling into a dull ache in his shoulder and neck. Once the majority of the pain had passed, he realized that Ben was introducing the man who was now turning the corner out of sight.

"And that is our favorite, and only," he leaned forward on the last two words to whisper them as though they were some great secret, with a wink at the first years, "caretaker, Mr. Linkin."

"What happened, mate?" asked Adam as they moved on, still following Ben at a rapid pace.

Not sure what to say, Remus went with a half-truth, "I tripped."

"That's my job," said Tonks, and Remus's laughing distracted him sufficiently to prevent him from rubbing at the scar, which still tingled and occasionally panged with ache. Finally, they seemed to have reached their destination, a portrait of a rather large woman in a pink dress.

"All right, kiddies, watch your Uncle Ben closely now, and welcome to the best little sliver of paradise you're likely to discover in this dark, dark world," he said, and even the Fat Lady rolled her eyes as he winked at her and said, "Corothie."

She swung forward to admit them, and the first years flowed into the warm, round room draped in scarlet and gold behind Ben and stared around in wonder. After he'd preformed a quick head count to insure they hadn't lost anyone on the way up, Ben stepped to the front of the group again.

"This is your common room. I'd give you the full tour, but I'm absolutely knackered and you can basically see it all from here, so I'll give you the short version. It's round, it's cozy, and us Gryffindors spend most of our free time and celebrate our many and varied victories here. Girl's dormitories are that way, and the boys are the other way. Night to all!" he said, and then the boys followed him towards their dorms.

Remus and Adam bid Tonks good night and followed the prefect. They reached the door marked First Years quickly, thankfully, as the new first years appeared on their last legs. Ben himself seemed to be losing a little bit of his own slightly manic energy, and bid them good night again, continuing the climb to his own dormitory.

Too tired to talk much, little was said by the five new Gryffindor boys, besides introduction, before they fell into their beds, barely noticing that their trunks were already at the feet of the four-posters.

Something was wrong within the familiar dream. He was still caught in the hatred behind the werewolf's eyes, but now they were the black tunnel-like ones of the teacher from the feast, and the normally silent landscape of the nightmare was punctuated by a single word, whispered in an unfamiliar voice: Destiny.

Remus awoke in a cold sweat, his eyes immediately falling on the waning moon outside. Never before had the dream come on a night devoid of the full moon. And there was that word again: destiny. He fell back asleep rather quickly, and barely remembered anything strange about the dream except for the unusual timing of it.

But apparently, Hogwarts had just as many questions to offer as answers.

Even if you've been dealing with celebrity for what seems like your entire life, it can still be a shock to have what seems like every eye you pass focused on you. The whispering conversations and long stares were only multiplied once Remus actually started classes, and Professor Flitwick, the diminutive Charms professor, had almost toppled off the pile of books he stood on when he'd first read Remus's name from the roll call. And with Tonks and her various and almost always bright hair colors constantly by his side, the stares only increased.

The first few days of classes were full and hectic, and Remus enjoyed them immensely, though by the time Thursday rolled around it felt as though he and the rest of the first years were buried in homework which seemed to consist mostly of writing essays several feet in length based on the pages and pages of notes they had taken in their classes so far. Thursday afternoon, after spending almost an hour in the damp, hot greenhouse with Professor Sprout, the first year Gryffindors joined the Hufflepuffs for their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

As Remus, Adam and Tonks took seats in the second row of desks next to Winfield, who had insisted they call him Win from breakfast their first day, and Jeremiah, the professor for the class leaned casually on his desk at the front of the room, smiling and nodding at the students that entered. When the bell rang, he stood up and smiled at the class as a whole.

"All right, why don't we get started. I'm Professor Wyllys Armistead, and this is your first year Defense Against the Dark Arts class." Professor Armistead was a tall, broad man who'd been teaching for two years now, only six years removed from his own graduation from Hogwarts. A former Hufflepuff, he wore his long, dark brown hair in a short ponytail at the base of his head. His most distinguishing feature was usually agreed upon as a tie between his sparkling sliver eyes, the general consensus among the older girls, and the large fang he wore dangling from his left ear, the general consensus of everybody else.

"So, let's set up some basic stuff. Now, I'm not even twenty-five yet, and I always find that I feel kind of silly addressing students as Ms. and Mr. when I'm still so young and youthfully handsome," he paused here to allow the laughter, "so, if it's all right with this class, I'd prefer to just call you by your first names. Is that okay?" he said, and the class nodded. "Good. I knew I could count on my Hufflepuffs and our friends the Gryffindors not to pitch a hissy fit about it. It's usually just the Slytherins that get picky about it, but don't tell them I said that."

The class laughed, and Professor Armistead picked up a book off his desk, holding it up for all of them to see. The class collectively reached for the similar book that each of them possessed, but he just shook his head and they paused in their motion as he laughed.

"I know that you all have spent the first three days of your Hogwarts careers taking notes and studying your books with great intensity, and I'm not going to promise that you won't spend some time in my class doing those exact same things, because you will, but I know also that I never was a great fan of those things when I was a student, so today, I thought we'd have a practical demonstration, and maybe get started on the notes and such next Monday. How does that sound?"

The class clapped enthusiastically, and Armistead smiled again, "Okay, I just need to go grab a couple of my friends out of the corridor, while you guys move the desks off to the side so they can have a proper stage. Sound good?" he asked, and the class rose quickly to start their part of the task while he laughed and exited the room, returning moments later with Ben Boyce and the Hufflepuff Prefect Ben had called Gary their first night after the Sorting.

"Well, Gryffindors, you already know 'Uncle' Ben Boyce, and Hufflepuffs, you've been introduced to Gary Sharpeton, but I suppose proper introductions have just been made to the opposite houses, so let's get started. First years, I'd take a step or two out of the way," the class immediately backed away as the two Prefects smiled and high-fived. "Now, these two won't be using any of the dark spells you'll be learning about in this class eventually, but being able to duel someone not using the Dark Arts is just as important as being able to duel someone that is."

"All right, Ben, Gary, let's do this properly," Armistead said, and the two fifth years bowed to each other before holding their wands out in front of them and waiting for Armistead, who'd moved over toward the group of first years, to start them, "How about we make this interesting? Best two out of three, winner gets five points for their house. Ready? Begin!"

"Expelliarmus!" shouted Ben, but Gary responded quickly with his own call of "Protego!" and the red light bounced harmlessly away from the other boy. Gary followed up with "Rictusempra!" but Ben created his own shield and the duel continued.

"Get him, Uncle Ben!" called Jeremiah, and Ben laughed through his concentration as he cast another spell.

"You got him already, Gary!" shouted Chris in response, and both the prefects laughed as they cast counteracting spells that produced a brilliant explosion of blue light that the first years ooohed and aahhhed over appropriately. Eventually though, Gary managed to slip a spell past Ben's Protego, and caught the other boy's wand with a shout of triumph. The Hufflepuffs cheered while the Gryffindors groaned, but Ben just retrieved his wand from Gary and winked at the first years, as though it were all part of some big plan he had.

And indeed, as soon as Armistead started the second duel, it seemed as though the first duel had just been to lull Gary into a false sense of security. Ben's first spell set him on his heels, and it was only a manner of time before the Gryffindor prefect's favorite spell, Rotoisi, hit Gary's hand before he could manage the Shield Charm and sent his wand spinning towards Ben's outstretched hand.

Catching it with ease and a smile on his face, Ben turned to the awestruck Gryffindors and said simply, "Bang." They let out wild cheers, and even the Hufflepuffs couldn't resist joining in as Gary laughed uproariously while Ben tossed him his wand back.

Just as Professor Armistead was about to begin the third and final duel, the fighters poised, the first years eager, the bell rang and a groan of disappointment went up from both sides. Armistead just smiled and stepped forward, "Well, looks like we have no winner. I'm left with no choice but to award both houses 5 points for the brilliant performances of their duelists. Nice job, Ben, Gary. And now, homework. Read the first four pages of Chapter One in your books and be ready to discuss Monday. Class dismissed!" he shouted, over the cheers that the points had garnered, and the groans that met the homework assignment.

Remus exited the room with Adam and Tonks as an excited crowd surrounded Ben and Gary, who seemed to enjoy the attention immensely. The first years were headed to lunch when Remus noticed that he must have left his Defense book on the desk, and turned to go back, telling the other two to go ahead to lunch and save him a seat. When he returned to the classroom, Professor Armistead was wandering among the desks and picked up Remus's book with a smile.

"Your homework might have been a little difficult without this," he said, handing the book to Remus, "I can't say I blame you for being a little scatter-brained. Merlin knows that there's nothing quite so hectic as a student's first few days at Hogwarts. And it can't have been made any easier by that," he said, nodding at Remus's scar, and Remus reached up to touch it softly.

"Well, as long as you don't have an official fan club yet, I think you'll be all right. But if you do ever need somewhere to hide from the attention, my door's always open."

"There are people with official fan clubs?" Remus asked, eyes wide.

"Not that I know of, but I wouldn't be surprised if there were unofficial ones under the noses of the professors," said Armistead, and both of them laughed, Remus slightly nervously.

"Well, I'm sure you're wanting to get off to lunch, and I've got a meeting with a couple of seventh year Ravenclaws who are already worried about their NEWTs," he said, and Remus exited the room with a wave.

"That was awesome!" said Adam when Remus sat down next to him at lunch, "I wish every teacher had started out class that way. Much better than taking all those notes. I think I'm developing carpal tunnel," he said, shaking out his right wrist.

"McGonagall did turn her desk into a cow," said Tonks, "and Sprout had us repotting those," she paused to think for a moment, "whatever you call them almost as soon as we walked in the door."

"I have to agree with Adam, a duel is a little more interesting than taking endless notes that I can barely understand, despite the fact that I was there," said Remus, grabbing a roll and the butter knife from Adam.

"Says the boy who is already done with all four of the reading assignments we've already gotten," said Tonks, rolling her eyes at Remus.

"Not my fault I like reading."

"No, I think it's almost entirely your fault."

"There is one thing we can agree on."

"What?" asked Remus and Tonks, both turning to look at Adam.

"That was awesome!"
---------------------
Friday morning, the three of them managed to make it down to breakfast in less then 15 minutes for the first time, but their joy was short-lived as Remus glanced at their schedule and groaned.

"What?" asked Adam, who was carefully creating a small pyramid of bacon on his plate.

"Potions with the Slytherins first thing in the morning," he said, hurrying to get some bacon from the tray nearest them before Adam took it all.

"At least we've got this afternoon off," said Tonks, rolling her eyes at the boys' eating habits and taking some toast for herself.

"We might need it to recover emotionally," said Jeremiah as he sat down across from them with Win.

"Or physically," Win said, and the rest of them laughed.

"If we weren't with the Slytherins, I think I'd be able to almost grin and bear it. But I guess we'll get a chance to see if he really favors them just as much as everyone says," said Tonks, and Charlie and Ben, sitting a few seats down from the group at the still sparsely populated table, laughed.

"Oh, he does. In fact, he probably favors them twice as much as we say, but there aren't words in the human language to actually describe it," said Charlie, and Ben clapped him on the shoulder.

"He even hates Charlie, and how is it possible to hate Charlie? It isn't. It is not possible to hate Charlie Weasley; no matter how hard you try. But that man manages it, makes it look easy in fact."

"Sounds promising," said Remus.

When the bell finally rang, the first year Gryffindors went as a group towards the dungeon classroom where Potions was held. Entering the dank room, they filtered into the back while the Slytherins took the seats near the front, leaving almost an entire row between the two houses. McNair looked back and shot them a sneer as a dark figure strode in, his black robes billowing dramatically behind him: Severus Snape.

Win and several others rolled their eyes at the theatrics, but Remus unconsciously slunk down in his seat as the professor rounded on the class and began to take roll in a voice so icy the temperature in the already chilly room actually dropped a few degrees. A sneer much more venomous than anything Remus had ever seen on McNair's face curled the lips of the Potions Professor after he'd read "Lister, Lewis."

"Lupin, Remus. Our own local celebrity, the acclaimed werewolf fighter, has been kind enough to bring his presence down to my humble abode. To what, do tell, do I owe the honor?" he asked, glaring back at Remus in the same manner he had the night of the Sorting.

Remus looked at the other Gryffindors for help, but they all seemed just as puzzled as he did, so he turned back to Snape and answered the best he could, "Well, your class was next on my schedule, sir."

Win smiled and actually let out a single bark of laughter while several other Gryffindors snickered into their hands. All the Slytherins looked scandalized, and what little color was in Snape's face drained out of it completely, "Three points from each Mr. Lupin and Mr. Brees for their blatant disrespect for a professor. Your instructions are on the board, and can also be found on page 11 of Magical Drafts and Potions. All the ingredients you need can be found in the back cupboard. Get to work!"

The students quietly went to work on the simple potion to cure boils. Remus sat stunned for a second, before Adam nudged his shoulder and indicated his open book, and Remus glanced over the ingredients and went to get what they needed. Win was standing back by the cupboard and smiled at Remus as they searched for snake fangs.

"This could be an interesting year," he said, and Remus laughed.

"To make a huge understatement," Remus agreed, and Win gave another huge laugh. Snape glared at them, but didn't say anything.

Adam left most of the chopping and grinding to Remus, and Remus used the opportunity to take out some of his frustration at his singling out. As he added the carefully measured, finely crushed snake fangs to his cauldron, Snape came up behind him and scoffed. Remus wasn't exactly sure how you could add things to a cauldron incorrectly, but apparently he was he could.

Forty minutes later, the bell rang, mercifully releasing them, and the Gryffindors rushed to deposit their flasks on the desks and to leave the dungeon, but they were stopped by Snape's cold voice, "Whose is this?" he asked, holding up a flask with the names clearly printed on the side facing away from him.

"It's ours," said Jeremiah, indicating himself and Win. Snape looked suspicious for a second, but seeing that none of the Slytherins had handed in their potions yet, was forced to accept it.

"It's adequate," he said, and the Gryffindors all looked at Jeremiah and Win in stunned silence. Win just smiled and rolled his eyes before walking away, tugging his friend along behind him.

"Wait, Win, I want to soak in the moment," he said, but Win just kept tugging.

"Hurry up, before we learn that adequate means that he's going to take points off us."

As soon as they cleared the staircase into the Great Hall, Tonks changed her hair from the tame blonde curls back to her familiar pink spikes and turned on the two boys, "Well, he hates you," she said, and pointed to Remus, "A lot."

"Yes, he does, and I honestly have no idea why. He was staring daggers at me at the feast, but I thought maybe I misinterpreted it. I guess I didn't," Remus said, and Tonks laughed.

"No, I guess you didn't."

"It's totally unfair," said Adam, "What else were you supposed to say? 'Well sir, I heard just how fun your class was, so I thought I'd head down to see what all the fuss was about'?" The first years heard the laugh from across the hall, and saw Ben, Gary and Charlie walking towards them across the hall with a Gryffindor girl they didn't recognize.

"How many points did he get from you?" Ben asked.

"Six, three from Remus and three from Win. Remus said something, Win laughed, and he called it disrespectful."

"Oh, that's not so bad. He's always taking points off me. I must have some kind of record by now," said Ben, and Gary added on.

"My second year, he took points off Richie for breathing too hard. Course, Richie was having an allergic reaction to the fumes coming from one of the Slytherin idiot's cauldron because he put some ingredient in too early. That kid lost two points. Richie lost twenty, for not being able to 'control himself' or something like that, plus got two days detention. McGonagall revoked the detentions, but couldn't do anything about the points."

"See, so you guys did good," said Charlie, his arm around the tall girl they didn't know.

"Win even managed to impress him," said Jeremiah, clapping a huge dark hand on his friend's shoulder.

"He called our potion adequate, that's it."

"Wait, you're telling me that Snape, Professor Severus Snape, head of Slytherin house, Potions Master, told a Gryffindor student, a first year, that his potion was anything better than slightly above cat urine? Did you create a potion that instantly cures Dragon Pox that also tastes like rainbows?" asked Ben, and Win just rolled his eyes again.

"It was just a boil potion."

"That tastes like rainbows?" asked Gary, an almost hopeful hint in his voice.

"What do we have next?" asked Win, shifting the focus away from himself.

"Transfiguration. Wish McGonagall favored us," said Tonks, checking her schedule.

"She seems to favor you, just a bit," said Remus, but Tonks shrugged.

"That's just because Transfiguration comes naturally to me," she answered, scrunching up her face and darkening her hair, before returning it to bubblegum pink.

"Oh, she definitely favors us," said Ben, placing a hand over his heart, " She's got a special place in her heart for all of us Gryffindors. She just does it in a subtle, elegant way that Snape can only dream of. Our McGonagall is a classy lady, but a Gryffindor through and through."

The warning bell for the next class rang, and the first years left the older students in the Entrance Hall and mounted the Grand Staircase to head for their next class.

John Lupin had assured his son that there was no place in the world safer than Hogwarts, but the comforting words didn't enter Remus's mind when he glanced up at the small lunar clock sitting on Professor Armistead's desk on Monday. Next to the time floated a small white orb, and the reality of what it meant came crashing back down on him in an instant.

"Remus?" asked Armistead, and he jerked his gaze away from the clock to meet the professor's eyes, and saw that Armistead was looking at him with some concern, "What is one of the Keys of Combat that Mr. Baers lists in Chapter 1?"

"Um, short spells are most effective, especially if the battle lasts longer than ten spells," Remus said, then glanced down at his notes to check his answer and for somewhere else to look besides the clock.

"Very good, Remus. Can anyone tell me any others?" he asked, and several hands went into the air. Remus tried to concentrate on the answers, but his eyes were drawn up to the small orb more often than they were drawn to his notes, and he only noticed that the class was dismissed when Tonks and Adam stood from their seats next to him.

The rest of the day felt hazy, and Remus barely touched his food at lunch or dinner. By the time the common room filled up with various Gryffindors studying or lounging around, Adam and Tonks were exchanging nervous glances as they watched their friend, hunched over his Transfiguration textbook and scrawling hurried notes over a spare piece of parchment in between long looks out the tall windows at the rapidly darkening sky.

Shortly after ten, Remus put away his textbooks and quill, but instead of packing up and heading to bed, he just pulled out one of his ever-present books, a battered copy of The Phantom Tollbooth, and settled back into the armchair. The room had mostly cleared out by now, the fire dying down, but he quickly lost himself in the familiar book. The moon was a far distant thought until he glanced up from Milo's adventures to see Tonks and Adam sitting across from him, both lit from behind by the orange light of the fire and their features pale in the white light of the moon. Adam was playing solitaire with a pack of worn Muggle cards, Tonks alternating between helping Adam with his game and staring intently at Remus as he read.

"I'm sorry, guys. You can go on up if you want. No need to wait around for me. I'm just getting to the good part," he said, but neither of them moved except for Adam turning over another card.

"What's going on?" asked Tonks, and try as he might, Remus couldn't keep his eyes from straying towards the tall windows, and she caught on immediately.

"It's the full moon, isn't it?" she said, and Remus studied the page in front of him.

"I know it's stupid, to be afraid of a day, to be scared of something so far away, but it's just force of habit, I guess."

"'S not stupid," said Adam, considering his options before relocating a stack and looking up at Remus, blue eyes very pale in the moonlight as his spikes cast an orange halo around his head.

"You guys don't really need to stick around though, seriously. I'm just going to read a little bit longer, and then head up," said Remus, but no one moved. And then Adam spoke.

"'S okay. This is what friends are for," he said, and silence came over the three of them. They had, of course, known they were friends before- ate meals together, sat by each other in class, studied in the common room together. But none of them had ever acknowledged it like Adam just had, hadn't spoken it out loud that they were friends, and were there for each other beyond questions about Transfiguration and discussions over whether the Sheppard's pie was any good. And it seemed so simple, the words, but they were still a little stunned at how easily this friendship had happened without really much effort on their parts. The three of them sat in quiet, the fire crackling softly, a clock ticking somewhere, letting the words sink in, before Tonks spoke, carefully, cautiously.

"Why'd you stand your ground? Why didn't you just run?" she asked Remus, eyes locked on his, and he could see the real question in them: Were you terrified?

He considered it for a moment, thought about lying, telling her some story about how he hadn't been terrified out of his mind, but friends tell each other the truth, so he said, "It didn't feel right. To look him in the eye, and then run away. I was terrified," he continued, and he remembers the frantic escapes, the explosions of pain in his arm, his shoulder, and those huge green-brown eyes, "I was more scared than I've ever been in my entire life, but it didn't feel right to run. There was just," he paused for a second, searching for the right word, but not finding it, "Something. There was just something that said 'Don't run.' This gut feeling that running was wrong. I couldn't run anymore than I could just stand there and let him attack me. I had to fight. I don't know, that probably sounds foolish."

"It doesn't. There's a reason you ended up in Gryffindor, isn't there? The house of the brave, if occasionally stupid?" said Adam, scooping the cards up and reshuffling them. He dealt the cards between himself and Tonks, and the two engaged in a spirited, if quiet, game of War while Remus went back to his book. But he found himself glancing up every few pages to watch his friends' silent victories and defeats as they turned their cards over again and again in the dying firelight and glaring moonlight, and thought about what that word friends meant, now that it had been acknowledged out loud.

As Milo, Tock and The Humbug encountered Alec Bings, Adam gave a yawn that seemed about to dislocate his jaw with its sheer magnitude, and Remus closed the book and said to his two friends, "I think I'm heading up now. I'm at a good stopping point." Adam gathered up his cards and Tonks stood to stretch while Remus slipped the book into his bag.

He remained by his chair though, bag slung over his shoulder, watching his best friends head up their respective staircases and didn't know why it was so hard to find what he wanted to say, why his brain and his throat and his lungs wouldn't cooperate, but at the last second it seemed, his voice came out, quiet and more like a breath than actual words, but Tonks and Adam both stopped on the stairs at his soft "Thank you."

Adam just smiled sleepily and said, "No problem, mate. See you in a few hours, I guess. G'night, Tonksie," before he disappeared up the staircase. Tonks remained where she was, sending an exasperated eye roll at Adam over the nickname, but then returning her gaze to Remus.

"He's right, Remus. It's what friends are for. It's not a problem. Besides, I still owe you from the train," she said, looking unsure, McNair's words still biting even now.

But Remus smiled slightly, moving to the bottom of the girls' staircase, "What are friends for if not for sticking up for you when you need it? It's not a problem," he said, grinning up at her, and she returned his smile.

"Night, Remus."

"Night, Nymphadora."

"Don't call me that," she tossed over her shoulder softly before disappearing around the curve of the staircase, but Remus just grinned, heading for his own staircase.

The dorm was still bright with moonlight, and Remus could see it casting a glow off Adam's remarkably spiky hair from where his friend had collapsed on top of his covers, and recalled the other boy's earlier words as he quickly changed and climbed into his own four-poster. Staring up at the canopy, he remembered that night.

He remembered how he'd stared into the werewolf's hateful eyes for what seemed like an eternity, but must have been only seconds, remembered diving towards it to avoid it, the power of it as it attacked again and again, the splatter of blood and silver as he'd slipped. But mostly Remus remembered how most of his brain had been screaming, absolutely screaming, for him to run, to get away, but his heart had said Stay, Fight, this is where it happens, and he had no idea what it was, but his body had followed his heart, and he was still here, unbitten.

There were some days when he wished he had just run, had escaped into the safety of his home and his parents, when he wished that his right shoulder bore no mark at all because he had chosen immediate safety over some sense of bravery and destiny. And almost every day he wished that Greyback had never emerged from those woods, that he had never really been concerned with werewolves a day in his life except as some anonymous threat that was in no way related to his daily life.

But on nights like this, with these friends, with those words spoken aloud, Remus found he wasn't really that concerned with the moon at the moment.
--
The next morning, Remus woke up tired, but happy. As he moved to his trunk, he kicked at Adam's mattress and said, "Morning, mate." The other boy just groaned and didn't move. Remus rolled his eyes and kicked again.

"I don't want to," came the muffled voice from his pillow, "Why did I stay up so late again?"

"Because that's what friends are for," said Remus, pulling his clothes out of his trunk as Adam sat up.

"I've decided I no longer want to be friends. It now feels like a bad life decision."

"Too bad. Now hurry up and get dressed or we won't get anything to eat."

"Because the Hogwarts kitchens so often run out of food for us."

"Just get dressed and stop tempting fate so openly," said Remus, and Lewis, looking nearly as tired as the other two boys as he entered the dormitory, laughed and sat on his bed to wait for the other two, as Win and Jeremiah had already headed down. Once they were all dressed, and Remus had dragged Adam from his bed again, they headed down the stairs to where Tonks waited for them.

When they reached the table, the owls were just starting to arrive, and as Remus grabbed himself some toast, Shaaro landed beside his plate and snatched a piece of his own from Remus's hand to nibble at as another owl landed with The Daily Prophet. The big black owl glared at Remus's, but Shaaro continued to eat his breakfast, not bothered by the other owl's presence. Remus was still occupied with Shaaro and his own food, so he handed the paper to Lew, who began to read silently before Jeremiah poked his arm with a spoon.

"Care to share with the group, Lo?" he asked, using the nickname Win had given him during their first week, because he had felt weird being the only one who didn't go by his full name, and Jeremiah had threatened immediate and terrifying violence upon being called 'Jerry' the first time.

"Uh, negotiations on track for new Goblin legislation, increased pressure on Flourish and Blotts from new bookshop in Diagon Alley, and, oh, hey, robbery at Gringotts last night! Four ounces of centaur ashes were stolen from a medium security vault, owned by an unnamed apothecary owner."

"This guy had four ounces of centaur ashes? Those are about as rare as any potion ingredient on the planet," said Win, and Jeremiah laughed at his best friend.

"Yeah, because the most amazing thing about a break in at Gringotts is what was taken, not the fact that Merlin himself wouldn't be able to break into Gringotts on a good day. Wonder how they did it?" he said, but Win just rolled his eyes.

"It wasn't even a high security vault. If he'd broken into one of those, I'd be impressed."

"Well, I'm still impressed," said Tonks, taking the paper from Lewis and scanning the article, "Said it was robbed late last night in the waning hours of a gala being thrown for the new legislation. Bold move, going into a crowded Gringotts and walking out with an urn of one of the most valuable potion ingredients in the world."

"True story," said Adam, slapping Remus's hand as it crept towards his plate to snag some of his bacon.

Outside McGonagall's Transfiguration classroom, Remus could feel the exhaustion deep inside his bones, and leaned against the wall, sucking a deep breath through his teeth and trying to relax his sore shoulder muscles, the ache in the scar deep today. Tonks and Adam both looked tired still, but neither of them seemed to be feeling the effects quite as badly as Remus. They were worried, but at Remus's urging, they went down to lunch without him. He slid down the wall in the now deserted corridor and rested his head back against the wall for a few moments.

"Adam and Tonks said you'd be here," said a voice from above him, and Remus opened his eyes to see Professor Armistead looking down at him. He started to push himself up, but Armistead stopped him before settling down on the floor next to him with a sigh.

"This seemed so much easier when I was a student. Must be getting old," he said, earning a tired smile from Remus. "Late night last night?"

Remus nodded, "Got caught up reading my book, didn't realize how late it was getting," he said, "Tonks and Adam stayed up with me, but I guess they must have gotten better sleep than I did when we finally went up."

Armistead was silent for a moment before he spoke, "Full moon was last night."

It wasn't a question, but Remus answered anyway, "Yes."

Armistead was quite for a moment, "I think that's why you're so tired, why you're feeling the effects more than your friends. Think how much tension you had all yesterday, and last night," he paused for a moment, looking at Remus, "It must be hard sometimes, the full moon, and this is your first one at Hogwarts. Your scar really bothers you some days, doesn't it?" Remus nodded, and he paused again, "What did you read?"

Remus was thrown off by the question, his hand having risen up to cover the exposed bit of scar tissue, but answered after a few seconds, "Uh, The Phantom Tollbooth."

"By Juster?" Remus nodded, and Armistead stood up, offering a hand to him that he took gratefully and got to his feet as well, "Good book. Come with me." Remus followed the professor silently to his office. He was wondering what they were doing when they entered the office, and Remus was confronted with the towering shelves of books that covered the office walls. Armistead ran his fingers over the spines of several before he carefully pulled one out and tossed it to Remus.

"You ever read that one?" he asked, and Remus looked at the title: The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain. He shook his head, and Armistead smiled. "Good. I think you'll like it. Read that next full moon; maybe take your mind off things a little faster. Also, if you can manage to sneak down here, I'm a bit of an insomniac. Not that I'm encouraging any kind of blatant rule breaking," he said, rummaging around in his desk for a moment before tossing something else to Remus.

"Chocolate, sir?"

"It helps, I promise. It'll help you get through the day, at least, until you can get some proper sleep. Now, you should probably get on down to lunch, your friends were worried about you. And don't let that spoil your meal."

"Thanks, Professor," said Remus, and left with a wave as Armistead turned back to his books.

He made it through the rest of the day fairly well, the chocolate helping just as Armistead said it would, though Remus had to reassure Tonks several times that he really was just fine now. After he'd finished the homework he needed to for the night, he read the last bit of The Phantom Tollbooth, but Tonks sent him a rather terrifying glare before she shifted her eyes to the clock as he reached for Tom Sawyer, and he smiled at her and obediently packed his bag and bid her goodnight, and he and Adam ascended the stairs together.

Remus glanced out the window as they passed, and came to a surprised stop when he noticed a figure racing across the lawn, something small tucked under its arm. "Adam," he hissed, and the other boy descended back a few steps to look out the window with him.

"That looks like Linkin," he said, and Remus recognized the stoop and slightly limping gait as well.

"What's he doing headed for the Forest in such a hurry, and so late?"

"I don't know, and with the stories I've heard, I can't imagine anyone hurrying to get there. But, Merlin, I'm about dead on my feet, Remus, let's head up, and worry about him tomorrow at the earliest."

"Sounds like a plan to me," said Remus, but he watched until Linkin disappeared into the cover of the trees before following Adam up the staircase.