"It should not, as a general rule, be possible to feel this much pain and still be alive. And human," Remus mused to himself.

It was two days after the news of Sirius' escape and the arrival of that fateful letter and Remus was undignifiedly pacing the tiny confines of his secluded house. He hated pacing. Pacing was the wolf's trait, born of years of confinement, and Remus made an exhausting point to fight the wolf at every possible turn. But he was too restless and too upset to stop himself. Every time he passed the poor kitchen table, he looked at the offending letter as he passed, both assuring himself it was still there and blaming it for his current predicament.

The letter was from Hogwarts. He had been considerably surprised to see the too-familiar emblem on the back when he'd first picked it up; one finger had traced nostalgically over the scarlet section with the gold lion for several minutes before he'd dared to even break the seal. And if he'd thought he was surprised before…

It had taken several more minutes of stunned rereading before the meaning of the letter actually sank in. They, meaning Dumbledore, wanted him. To teach. At Hogwarts. As Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. In less than two weeks. This realization was followed by joy, quickly squashed, then, more slowly, anger, resentment, and pain. The last had been eating at him for the two days between the receipt of the letter and the agreement that Dumbledore would come to more personally speak with him about the matter.

Back in the schooldays that Remus so very rarely allowed himself to dwell on anymore, his friends had many times told him that he was perfect for the role of a teacher. Of course, being the Marauders, such a thing was often followed by teasing as it wasn't a very Marauder-ish trait and clashed with the general image of carelessness towards assignments in favor of making trouble. This was at least until one or the other needed help with homework, in which case they never had any problems singing Remus' praises until he was so embarrassed and confused by their attentions he would give in just to get them to shut up.

But, secretly, due to their sincere words of praise and their great relief when he helped them, Remus had hoped to teach, one day. Even back then, as a child, he knew it was unrealistic at best. Moony owned much more of him than just the time during the one full moon of the month; the distrust, the fear, the discrimination would keep him from ever being put in charge of other people, much less vulnerable students. He'd never allowed himself to hope for much, but this wish he could not deny even as he knew it would only bring him grief to see it forever unfulfilled.

And now he had it, this wish that had seemed so unlikely.

But following the joy had come resentment. Why did they want him? He thought it was probably just because they thought his 'life experiences' would be handy for the children to see. Since he was a 'Dark Creature,' he must surely have all sorts of knowledge about the others of 'his kind,' right? How better to be prepared than to have first-hand knowledge of how the other side worked? Even though Remus had absolutely no dealing with other 'Dark Creatures' besides himself.

The feelings of being used brought anger with them; despite the curse and whatever life had done to him, he was still human. What Remus had termed his James-conscience told him that he should expect to be treated better than that; James had been the most vocal in assuring him of that very humanity, second only to Sirius. But as Sirius was less than nothing to him now, it was James' name this little voice acquired.

It was the James-conscience that objected to Remus being nothing more than a freak on show while Remus was more accepting, knowing that he had no choice and couldn't fight the stereotypes of the whole world. But that on-show feeling was exactly the feeling he had so dreaded when he went to Hogwarts the first time around and this time, there'd be no friends to help him…

With that thought and the anger came the pain, running much deeper and darker. Hogwarts. The very name was difficult to get off his tongue anymore. Hogwarts had been his home for six years, sometimes more his home than his real home. It had given him his only friends, his courage, his life, and his first, and still only, love in the form of one of those few friends. When he allowed it, he could still picture all those years in almost perfect clarity; even back then, he'd known that this was likely to be the brightest time he'd have in his life and he'd treasured every moment of it. Even the frequent and sometimes entirely undeserved detentions.

But he'd locked those memories away, preserving them from the dirtiness and the onslaught of time, of life that crawled by now that he was so very and incontrovertibly alone.

How could he bear to walk those halls? How could he stand to be in the Great Hall again, scene of so many plots, pranks, conversations, food fights, and generally precious memories when every day it would be impossible to ignore the fact that his friends were no longer beside him? How could he bear to see other children sit where he and his friends once had and not get sucked under by the memories? For that would be an existence almost worse than death, having to relive the happiest days of his life, knowing he'd never be that happy again.

So it was to that conflicted state of mind that Albus Dumbledore walked into when he arrived at the not-quite-house of Remus J. Lupin. The crack! of his Apparation made Remus jump before he hurried to the back door to greet the formidable Headmaster and former Professor.

"Remus, how lovely to see you again," Dumbledore greeted him, his solemn tone putting the words at odds with his voice. Remus nodded and opened the door fully to allow the taller man into the house.

He was relieved to see that Dumbledore was not taking this lightly; it was clear the older wizard was in one of his rare serious moods when he politely turned down the cup of tea Remus offered him.

"I am sorry Remus, but time is short. Pleasantries must wait for another, happier time. Have you thought about my offer?" he asked as he settled into a chair in the living room. Remus, tired and aching, dropped rather less gracefully into another and ran a hand through his hair.

"I have, Headmaster. Quite a bit, I'm willing to say," he returned.

"And have you reached an answer?" Dumbledore pressed him gently. Remus blew out a frustrated sigh before shaking his head.

"I haven't…" he started, then stopped and started again. "I can't…" he got out, and then stopped again. "I'm not… It's not safe, Headmaster! Six years was asking more than enough from luck as it is, my returning there places everyone in danger again and… I won't risk that." Not after last time, he mentally added, the pain of the night he'd almost killed Severus hitting him again. And then the other close calls when James and the others freed him from the Shack… Too close, too close by far…

"And if I was to say that, as impossible as it may seem, the danger has been made irrelevant?" Dumbledore asked. Remus looked at him in obvious disbelief.

"'Irrelevant'? There is never an absolute guarantee of no danger with a werewolf, no matter how good the cage or how skilled the protecting wizard may be," he said bitterly. "To risk my presence again at Hogwarts…"

"There is a potion, Remus," Dumbledore said earnestly. "It is very new, and quite secret. But the reports done about it call it a miracle, the very next best thing to a cure for the curse itself. It allows you to retain your human mind, Remus; so long as you take it faithfully, this potion will allow you to control the wolf on the nights of the moon. The test subjects have yet to find a fault with it."

Remus sat silently in his chair, cynical disbelief warring with amazed hope in his mind. The very best next thing, indeed! If such a thing existed… He would never have to feel the searing pain of his own teeth as he tore into himself, would never have to worry about dying before the sun rose the next morning, would never have to live with the aches and pains brought on by the wolf turning on himself in his fury. If he could get rid of the pains of the injuries, he could very well live with the pain of the transformation itself!

If. If, if, if, his brain reminded him darkly. A miracle cure? There was no cure for lycanthropy, everyone knew that. Even his poor parents had had to accept the truth after years of living in denial and trying every gimmick they could find. So now, a potion that could allow the user to have their human mind during the full moon? He'd heard that one before.

"Remus," Dumbledore said quietly, appearing to read the cynicism on his face, "I have met some of these test subjects. I have spoken with them, seen the transformation itself, and I do not lie. These men and women are human in their animal form, Remus; I have even entered the room of one particularly accommodating werewolf, without his slightest reaction."

"You did WHAT?" Remus yelped, horrorstruck. Just the thought was so counter to everything he knew, and the risk… Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled merrily. "How… but… what… for Merlin's sake, why?"

"You know, you and Minerva McGonagall had quite the same reaction, nearly identical if I recall correctly. Quite fascinating, really," he said, eyes still twinkling. Remus was stuck on flabbergasted.

"But Headmaster, the risk!" he protested.

"Almost as if you had the same script!" Dumbledore chortled, completely ignoring his protests.

"Headmaster!" Remus said again, this time with a little less horror and a little more reproach. Quite unexpectedly, it had the exact reaction Remus had hoped it would but had had very little certainty would work; Dumbledore was a law unto himself when it came to conversations. But the great wizard was sobering, delicately wiping his eyes with a finger.

"It's a shame you never used that voice more on your friends back in your school days," he said. "I'm sure they would have been much more… manageable had you exerted that particular talent more often." Remus' jaw clenched and he looked away quickly.

"Believe me, it made very little difference on… in the end," he finished instead, staring fixedly out the window. As he unwillingly thought about his former friends, Remus realized that his desire not to return to Hogwarts had very little to do with his concern about being a werewolf. No, the true and obvious reason he didn't want to go back was, after all, those memories he didn't want to face. Of course, admitting he didn't want to face them was, in fact, facing them, so he'd lied.

"Oh, dear," Dumbledore said, apparently reaching the same conclusion, though Remus couldn't fathom how. "Your worries about being a werewolf, they are not the true reason you do not want to return, are they, Remus?" he said, the question asked more like a statement. Jerkily, Remus shook his head 'no' once, cursing himself for being so transparent. He was weak, he'd always been weak, no matter what anybody had said… To be afraid of your own memories, how pathetic!

"Is it the memory of your friends?"

"Yes," Remus sighed, hands clenching on the arms of his chair. The furniture groaned and he let go quickly to twist his hands in his lap, feeling much like the schoolboy he'd once been in front of Dumbledore's knowing gaze. "Times have changed, Headmaster, very much so but I fear that I've yet to let go of the past."

"A curious thing, the past, almost as much so as the future," Dumbledore said, appearing to ponder the ceiling. "Isn't it strange how the past affects so many people in so many different ways? How the same event can have multitudes of different connotations for everyone involved?"

Remus stayed silent, having long since learned that Dumbledore would either start making sense again or the conversation would end. There never seemed to be a third option.

Quiet reigned for some time as Dumbledore continued to explore the ceiling and Remus used the time to recompose his scrambled thoughts. It seemed like it was getting harder and harder to close the door on those memories, especially these days when Sirius' sickly face was everywhere. Stray thoughts and recollections brushed through his mind, leaving a strange confusion of pain and fondness in their wake each time it happened. Rather than fighting it, Remus found that he was letting it happen more and more often, even going so far as to desire for it to happen.

"The past is a hypnotic thing, Remus," Dumbledore said finally, startling Remus so badly he jumped. "It holds some of our greatest treasures and worst fears. And while we would do well to remember the past and learn from it, I have found that people often trip more if they are looking at where they were rather than where they are going." With that piece of not-so-cryptic advice said in a cheerful but gentle tone, Dumbledore stood.

"I must have an answer tomorrow, Remus. That is the longest I can delay to wait. You can Floo my office with your answer; I will be waiting." Remus stood hastily and accompanied Dumbledore to the door; the old wizard paused on the threshold, appeared to consider something, and then turned back to Remus.

"There is one more piece of information you should know," he said, staring at Remus somberly. "I don't know how much of these last twelve years you've kept track of, but there is now a student at Hogwarts I believe you will know well; James and Lily Potter's son, Harry, will now be in his third year at the school. As you were once one of his father's closest friends, he could learn much about his parents from you; sadly, thus far he has only had Hagrid's memories of them to remember. I think it would mean very much to him if he had the opportunity to meet you."

Remus clutched the doorjamb to keep from trembling, fingers making indents in the cheap wood. Harry, little Harry… Little Harry who obviously wasn't so little anymore! He'd be, what, thirteen by now? Maybe a little older?

Remus flushed with shame as he realized that this was the first time in a long time that he'd even thought of James and Lily's son. Dear Merlin, Remus had been so lost in his own pain that Harry had probably grown up without the slightest inkling that he had people other than his parents who had known him since before birth, had cherished him like he was their own son. Remus sent silent apologies up to James and Lily for his unforgivable selfishness.

"Well, that is all," Dumbledore said kindly, patting him on the shoulder. "Oh, well, there is one more thing but that can certainly wait until I've heard your answer tomorrow." He stepped out onto the porch, ready to Disapparate.

"Wait, Headmaster, I think," Remus began to accept the position, filled with his resolve to give whatever he could to the boy he'd once spoiled like a son and make up for his past mistakes. Then the Headmaster's last few words sank in. "Other matter?" Remus said, as if trying to words out. "What other matter?" he asked, suspicion beginning to emerge.

If Remus hadn't believed it impossible, he would have said Dumbledore actually looked uncomfortable. "Well…" he said, obviously torn between something.

"Please, Headmaster, what is it?" Remus asked seriously. Dumbledore sighed and motioned him to go back inside.

"This is not a matter for public ears," he said. "I assume your house is warded?" he asked shrewdly. Remus gave a small smile.

"Of course," he replied.

"Well, then," Dumbledore said, "you'd have had to know this sooner or later. Perhaps now is better after all," he said musingly. "Yes, I do believe… Perhaps we should be seated again, Remus. Here in the kitchen will do." Remus obediently grabbed a seat and sat in it, impatient to hear the Headmaster's obviously important information. Dumbledore tapped his fingers together before speaking.

"Highly disturbing information reached my ears just this past day. You've no doubt heard of Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban?" Remus flinched at the name of his old friend and attempted to cover it up with a cough. Dumbledore's sympathetic gaze told him it wasn't as suave as he'd hoped. "I'll believe that's a 'yes.' Well, after the escape, the Minister himself Apparated to Azkaban to question his guards. They reported to him that Black had been muttering fairly disturbing things under his breath for the last day before he escaped."

Remus felt himself pale. "What disturbing things?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"It was one thing, really, repeated and repeated without end. The guards said that it was a single phrase: 'He's at Hogwarts.'"

"He's at… Oh, dear Merlin," Remus breathed. "Harry!"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, that's the conclusion we've come to as well. Sirius Black is returning to his former duties and has escaped to finish his Lord's last task; he seeks a way to enter Hogwarts and kill Harry."

"But," Remus said weakly, "Hogwarts…"

"Indeed," he Headmaster said, "Hogwarts is a formidable obstacle in this plan of his. He would have to be very sly indeed to manage to sneak inside its grounds undetected."

"But that's S-Sirius for you," Remus said bitterly, stuttering over Sirius' name. "He carried out that last treasonous act right under all our noses… the spy all along."

"That very thing worries me, worries us all. Black is no fool; he will not dare attack the school unless he has a means of solving that problem, and yet, sources tell me that he is, at this very moment, making a path that appears to be leading right to the school."

"Then he already has a plan," Remus said wearily, rubbing his face. "As rash as he sometimes was, when it mattered, Sirius always took the time to plan things out. He already knows what he intends to do." For the first time, Remus noticed he was still calling Sirius by his first name rather than his last, as the Headmaster was doing, and he wondered why.

"I can't fathom how he plans to enter the grounds," Dumbledore said musingly. "There are very few points in the barrier spells where humans are allowed through and the spells have already been altered to exclude him. Surely, he must know that…"

In a flash of insight, Remus realized how Sirius was going to accomplish it. In the twelve years since the disaster, Remus had nearly forgotten how his friends had achieved the ultimate in Tranfiguration, how they'd become Animagi for him. Sirius didn't intend to walk onto the grounds; Padfoot did.

"Sir," Remus said quickly, about to reveal everything, laws be damned. But he hesitated as Dumbledore looked at him seriously; how could he tell the Headmaster what they'd done all those years ago, how three teenage wizards how illegally become Animagi to keep their werewolf friend distracted and how they'd let said werewolf out of his cage to the peril of the humans nearby? How could he tell the first man to ever give him a real chance that he'd broken, no, mutilated his trust in such a way?

The answer was, he couldn't. Remus found he couldn't speak Sirius' plan without giving everything away, and he was sickened with himself that he was so scared for his own well-being that he'd put an innocent boy in danger just to save himself. But maybe…

Maybe he could make up for it? No one had known Sirius Black better than Remus, except maybe James. But Remus could protect Harry if he taught at the school, set all sorts of wards and protections specific only to the traitor himself, made all the more potent by Remus' specific knowledge of Sirius' character. And Remus was good at wards and protections, he knew he was; Harry would be much safer if Remus was there than if he just told the Headmaster of Sirius' plan. After all, telling the Headmaster of Padfoot would only delay Sirius, wouldn't it? He'd find some other way to get into the grounds, of course. It was much better for Remus just to be there.

Remus said, "Sir, I want to teach at Hogwarts for you." And if anyone ever asked, he would deny the accusation that he wasn't doing this only for Harry's protection. Sirius factored into this decision not at all, except to provoke him to protect Harry. That's all it was.