1.

The front door slammed behind Remus Lupin as he left his parents' cottage, strode across the front garden and down towards the beach. The steady crash of waves and the distant squawking of gulls was a welcome assault on his ears after the oppressive silence of the cottage. Really, any noise would be welcome to him just now – even a Banshee or the sound of James singing in the shower – anything but his parents' deafening silence and their long-suffering sighs.

He knew he shouldn't be too surprised by their reaction. He knew that disagreements with the parents were par for the course for any teenager, especially if said teenager was stranded in the middle of nowhere on the Scottish coastline, with no neighbours for a thirty mile radius and only the occasional owl to break the monotony. Though, Remus thought ruefully, most teenager's arguments didn't involve them having to give up their civil liberties in order for their parents to receive financial aid.

He was nearer the shoreline now, could see the bubbles in the surf as it washed over the stony beach. Remus stooped to pick up a pebble – felt it smooth and round against his palm – and hurled it into the pewter-grey sea. Far off in the distance he could see a Muggle fishing trawler silhouetted against the horizon, seagulls swarming around it hoping for some stray catch.

Remus shivered and rubbed at his arms wishing he had grabbed a jacket before he left the cottage.

Spending the summer holidays here was never something he particularly looked forward to. After nine months at Hogwarts filled with the hustle and bustle of lessons, Quidditch matches and, of course, series of escalating pranks, wars on the Slytherins and unsolicited trips to Hogsmeade, returning back to his parents' house and with their strained silences was akin to entering another, soundless universe.

Like every other year, his mother and father had been waiting for him on Platform nine and three-quarters when he arrived off the Hogwarts Express at the start of the summer holidays. Like every other year, Remus would took a moment to be thankful that they had at least come to meet him, as Sirius was left to navigate Muggle public transport to find his way home; his own mother and Regulus had left Kings Cross without him once again.

Elena Lupin tremulously hugged her son, the smell of her cheap perfume filling Remus's nostrils. She was wearing the same threadbare cardigan she had worn for as long as he could remember, but this year the dark bags that circled her eyes were new. She looked strained, Remus thought, as though she had been pinched too hard for too long and he felt a sudden flash of guilt as he embraced his mother. John Lupin clapped Remus good-naturedly on the shoulder with a gruff "Good to see you, son." His work robes were woebegone, beginning to fray at the cuffs, and he avoided looking at his son in the eye for too long. Next to Mr and Mrs Potter with their warm, enthusiastic greetings and smart robes that spoke of old pureblood money, his parents looked like fragile and faded leaf specimens that had been shut away for too long and were beginning to crumble.

But Remus could hardly blame his parents for their dishevelled appearances. For as long as mind could be stretched back, his parents had been pouring any gold they had into some 'breakthrough' cure or 'revolutionary' new treatment for his Lycanthropy. Every holiday from Hogwarts would be spent with Remus taking some new potion or being poked and prodded by some quack shamans who ruthlessly drained his parents' bank balance with the promise that they would rid their son of his Lycanthropy.

Of course, it never worked. The potion would have to undergo some 'tweaking' or, luckily for the quacks, some clause in the Ministry's Ban on Experimental Breeding Act would be brought to their attention and they would pack up their offices and disappear into the night, pockets full of gold, never to be heard from again.

This summer, however, had been different. Remus's parents didn't want to take him to meet any shifty Warlocks or visit some dodgy Healer's clinic in Knockturn Alley. This summer's desperate, fruitless attempt at finding a cure was "completely legitimate and above board," his mother informed him, three weeks into the summer holiday. "It's Ministry approved" she said, eyes shining enthusiastically.

Remus was sitting at the scrubbed kitchen table, the morning's Daily Prophet – GIANTS GO ON RAMPAGE; TERROR SWEEPS THE NATION screamed the front page headline – and half drunk mugs of cooling tea littered the table. The grandfather clock was chiming in the hall, when his parents decided to broach their proposition.

"It's a fantastic opportunity, Remus dear," his mother said, sitting across the table from him. "A godsend. Just think how much safer your transformations will be. Under supervision of St Mungo's healers - if anything goes wrong they'll be there on the spot to help you. You know the dangers will increase now you're almost fully grown, surely that alone is reason enough to follow the scheme?"

Remus forced himself to keep his voice calm and mildly interested, "And what are they calling it? The Ministry, I mean, what do they call this scheme?"

There was the briefest pause then, just enough to let the underlying tensions in the room double. The grandfather clock sounded its final chime.

"The – eh – the Werewolf Rehabilitation Scheme," his father mumbled from where he was standing over by the window.

"Rehabilitation," Remus echoed in a hollow tone.

"It's just a name, Remus," his mother said quickly. "The scheme is for werewolves from all sorts of backgrounds and circumstances. Some haven't been as… let's say fortunate as you have, and for them the scheme also helps them to… adjust to normal living conditions."

Remus squirmed guiltily in his seat at this. He focused on counting the number of cup rings he could see on the table's surface and tried to quell the tangle emotions rising within him at these words.

"The Department sent us an information pack. It explains it everything the scheme will involve." His mother produced a purple pamphlet from her lap, emblazoned with the Ministry of Magic crest and a picture of a witch and wizard – clearly not werewolves themselves – smiling toothily up at him.

Remus took the pamphlet and glanced through it's contents. Certain phrases caught his eye: 'daily monitoring', 'for the protection of the greater wizarding society', 'supervised transformations', 'increased control and more opportunities for those that comply with the Ministry guidelines'.

He thrust the pamphlet down onto the table, a sickening feeling clenching his stomach.

"What the –" Remus took a deep breath to steady his voice. "I don't understand. The Ministry wants us to transform under supervision on their premises. They want to – want to help us… Why now?"

His eyes fell on the Daily Prophet headline and felt as though his insides had turned to lead. Of course that was why…

"Remus," his mother said gently, "this is the chance we've been searching for all these years. Not only will your transformations be supervised, but you'll be first in line should any new treatments become available. When I think about - if this had been available years ago -" she broke off then and looked to her husband for support.

John Lupin cleared his throat, "Son, I know this may seem a bit daunting, but I spoke to Wilhemina in the Department and she says you can go at anytime for a look around the centre. It's nice. Located in the lowest floor of the Ministry, it's much quieter down there, more private, you could come and go without anyone noticing you if that troubles you."

"Which Division is it in?" Remus asked curtly. "The Beast or the Being Division?"

His parents exchanged glances.

"The Beast Division," his father said, eyes fixed on some spot above Remus's head. "But that doesn't necessarily mean–"

"The Beast," Remus snapped, some of his anger spilling over into his voice. "Tell me, why would they locate a scheme that's designed to help werewolves integrate into normal society in that division? Would that not be more suitable in the Being Division? Or is that they just want to coop us all up where they can keep an eye on us for the 'protection of the greater wizarding society' as though we can't be trusted?" He broke off when he realised he was shouting.

The was silence in the small kitchen. His parents both looked a bit shocked by his sudden outburst and Remus felt a blush creep up on his cheeks.

His mother recovered first.

"Think, dear," she said, laying a comforting hand on his forearm, "the dangers in your transformation will increase now you're getting older. The Ministry are reaching out a hand to help you. This isn't about the money, we just want you to be safe."

"The money?"

His parents exchanged nervous glances.

"There's a monthly subsidy for those who comply with the scheme," his father explained. "It's not a huge amount, a few galleons, but it's something. There's the opportunity for additional payment if you help the Healer's in their research, you know, tests and that kind of stuff. Nothing too intense, I daresay, but it's an opportunity son. You never know what the Healers might discover with your help."

"You have to think about your future, Remus," his mother said. "It can't hurt to put some money aside for the future."

But it wasn't just the sudden interference from the Ministry that troubled Remus. If he did what his parents wanted him to do, if he complied with the Rehabilitation Scheme, it would mean no more full moons in the Shrieking Shack. How could he tell the rest of the Marauders that they would no longer be able to transform with him, after all they had done for him. They had finally succeeded in their Animagi transformations last year, and since then they had spent four full moon nights together. Easily some of the best times of Remus's life. He thought of James's shock, Peter's disappointment and Sirius – Sirius's anger. He couldn't go through with this scheme not just for his own sake, but for his friends' as well.

His eye caught the the Daily Prophet headline again, and he felt a sudden stab of anger towards his parent's for their naivety. Could they really not see what was before their very eyes?

Remus chose his words carefully, fighting to keep his voice level.

"Doesn't it seem - odd - that the Ministry is only reaching out now. After all these years, they've decided that now's the right time to reach out and offer help, when they have ignored us for years."

"What are you trying to say, Remus," his father said, a note of warning in his voice.

"That this scheme isn't a good thing. That it's not about rehabilitation but about keeping all us werewolves under supervision. Look at the Giants," he said, grabbing the newspaper and holding out the front page so they could see the headline. "The Ministry's in a panic. They don't know where all the werewolves and other dark creatures are. They've spent so much time shunning us that they're now in a panic trying to round us up so we can be monitored and make sure we don't go on the rampage with Voldemort too."

"Remus –" his mother stated to say, her voice higher than normal, but he cut her off.

"No, look, I can't do this. This scheme it isn't true, it's lies. I won't through with it, I just can't."

And with that both his parents had clammed up and refused to say another word for the rest of the day yesterday. Remus could bear the silent treatment for so long, after all he didn't feel the need to constantly talk to someone like Sirius and James did, but he had hoped that this morning his parents might have relented in their stubborn silence. But when he came down to the kitchen this morning there was no "Good morning, son" just a cold silence.

Well, he thought, he was as well versed in the silent treatment too, so he left the cottage without a word.

And now here he was. Looking back over his shoulder towards Lupin Cottage, Remus could see that he had walked quite far along the beach. Ahead there was only more empty, desolate coastline stretching on for miles around the Scottish headland. He sighed and kicked at some of the stones under his feet.

The last couple of weeks had been like living his life in non-stop free-fall. It seemed like every other day the Prophet would report another worrying article about the actions of Lord Voldemort and his followers. Last month there had been a spate of horrific Muggle attacks in West Yorkshire, and it seemed that no one knew who to turn to for help. The Ministry was floundering; the sudden increase in frequency and violence in Voldemort's attacks was too much for them cope with, and there were repeated calls for the Minister for Magic, Edmir Gillespie, to resign as a result of the continued incompetence his Ministry was showing.

Remus remembered visiting Diagon Alley last year, and remembered that even back then there was increased fear amongst the community, even in just their day to day lives. Shoppers on the busy street wouldn't stop as long to talk to each other, and certainly not to strangers. The animosity toward Muggleborns had also increased, with Lily Evans been sneered at by a particularly spiteful old wizard in the middle of the street in broad daylight.

The fear had even reached Hogwarts, as more people cancelled their Witch Weekly subscription in exchange to keep up with events reported in the Daily Prophet. The usual Gryffindor-Slytherin animosity had reached new heights in the last couple of months of the Marauders' fifth year, with old House rivalries being replaced by a totally new level of hatred that had not been there before. What had before been mostly harmless schoolboy pranks and duels were escalating rapidly into vicious attacks.

And it wasn't just the Slytherins that had been playing dirty in the final months of fifth year…

Remus abruptly turned on his heel and walked toward the water's edge. The muggle fishing trawler was now a faint pinprick against the dark, cloudy waves crept up over the tops of his trainers, the cold water seeping through his thick socks.

Almost two months had passed since Sirius had sent Snape down under the Willow, and though his initial anger had passed, Remus still felt uneasy whenever the subject crossed his mind. Yes, he had been angry at Sirius, furious in fact, but now more than anything he just wanted things to go back to normal between them. During the final few weeks of fifth year, Remus felt that they were merely acting out their respective roles for the sake of rest of the group. Pretending that everything was back to normal in the hope that it would return that way. Remus wondered if it ever would, if their friendship really had been pushed too far and was now broken beyond repair…

But no, he remembered how Sirius looked the day after the deed. Remus had been lying in the Hospital Wing and when he had awoken to see James's tired, anxious face hovering beside him he knew instinctively that something bad had happened. James had smiled tensely at Remus and squeezed his wrist briefly. As he stood up to leave he said only the words "He's awake" to Sirius, who Remus then noticed, standing over by the window looking out over the grounds.

It was one of the longest silences Remus ever had to endure, if his throat wasn't so raw from the previous night's transformation he would certainly have broken it sooner, but something about the way Sirius's shoulders were hunched and the way he wouldn't face Remus made him wait it out.

Eventually, Sirius had turned to face him, guilt in his features, and the whole story came pouring out. Sirius had had been taunting Snape. Had used Remus to taunt Snape. Sent him down to Willow. Snape had seen Moony, he knew Remus's secret. Snape had been in Dumbledore's office all morning, and had sworn to the Headmaster that he would tell no one.

Remus doesn't know how it happened, but the next thing he remembered was Madam Pomfrey shrieking, and suddenly James was back in the ward and together they pulled Remus away from Sirius back to his bed. He didn't understand why there was so much blood. Through blurred vision he saw Sirius, more blood streaming down his face from what was clearly a badly broken nose. Remus felt his right hand throbbing and when he looked down he saw that his own knuckles were covered in the blood too. James was saying something to him but his voice sounded warped as though he were at the end of a very long tunnel. Remus felt suddenly light-headed and fell back against his pillow as the world went black and he passed out.

* * *

The rain had started pour now. Big, thick bullet drops hammered down on Remus as he ran back to the cottage, feet squelching inside his wet trainers. He ran across the garden and pulled open the back door into the kitchen.

His mother was still sitting at the kitchen table, and when he met her tired, wearied eyes he felt something resolve inside him.

"Remus! Look at you, you're soaked through! Come and I'll–"

"I'll do it, Mum." he said.

"What?" she asked, not understanding. "Do what?"

"The scheme, the Rehabilitation Scheme, I'll do it." he took a deep breath. "You're right, you and dad, it is a great opportunity and I'm going to do it."

"Oh, Remus!" his mother cried and pulled his soaking self into a tight embrace. It was then that an idea occurred to him.

"Mum," he said, trying gently to extricate himself from his mother's arms, "just promise me something?"

"What, Remus?"

"Promise me you and dad won't spend anymore money trying to look for a cure. Promise me you'll use dad's next paycheque to buy something for yourselves – some new clothes, or go on that trip to Rome that you've always talked about. I mean it."

"Okay. Yes, we will." Elena Lupin smiled, dried her eyes on the sleeve of her cardigan. "Look at us," she laughed, "we're both soaked through! You go up and get changed, and I'll floo your father at the office – he'll be delighted when he hears."

With one last smile, Remus headed up the stairs to his bedroom, wet feet slip-sliding on the floor as he went. His room had once been the attic of the small cottage and was quite cramped, but Remus liked the sloping ceiling and the way the light poured through the small round dormer window. There was something perched on the other side of this window right now, blocking the light from entering the room and as Remus approached near he recognised the soggy mass of grey feathers as Oberon, James's owl.

He unlatched the window and stepped aside to let Oberon enter the shelter of his room. The owl landed on the back of Remus's desk chair and huffed slightly, puffing out his feathers to shake the worst of the rain from them. He extended his leg and allowed Remus to untie the leather pouch in which was a tightly scrolled letter.

Remus unfurled the letter and recognised James's curly penmanship, and sat down in his bed to read its contents:

Moony,

How's your summer been? It's been crap weather down here, I haven't been able to practice Quidditch at all.

Anyway, I'll get right to the point: last night Sirius left home, for good this time.

He's here just now and is probably going to stay with me for the rest of the summer.

How do you feel about meeting us in Diagon Alley next Friday. You know I

can't stand a sulking Padfoot for too long, and Pete's already said he was planning

on going to Diagon Alley that day anyway. So, you up for it?

Send word back with Oberon and we'll see you soon!

Cheers,

Prongs

Remus chuckled at James being blunt and to the point as usual, and was just about to write his reply when he saw that a postscript had been scrawled at the bottom in Sirius's handwriting:

P.S. Hey Remus, didn't realise this git was writing to you until he told me to go get Oberon for him. I swear, just because it's his house he thinks he can treat me like the house elf, though that hardly makes much of a change from the norm. Anyway, at the risk of sounding pathetic, please come to Diagon Alley next week. All James can talk about is his new plan to woo Evans and I'm in dire need of some proper conversation.

- Sirius

For the first time since he'd returned home, Remus felt a genuine grin spread over his face.