It was late October before Remus found an excuse for a private chat with Harry. He had not wanted to take the boy aside in front of his friends, nor send for him to visit his office. Dumbledore may have asked him to Hogwarts to keep an eye on Harry, but there were others who remembered the close association between the names Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, and sometimes they conveniently forgot that the Potters had called both their friends. He did not want to draw attention to his particular interest in their son.

The other professors were either formally polite to Remus, or ignored him altogether. Only Dumbledore was openly friendly, but he was a very busy man. The upshot was that Remus was very rarely privy to the discussions the rest of the staff shared, even in the staff room.

He knew, of course, that much of the talk these days concerned the search for Sirius, and whether or not he was, in fact, after Harry, which seemed increasingly likely, after he was sighted near the school. Remus gleaned this much from the snippets of conversation he heard before entering rooms or rounding corners. All talk of the escaped prisoner stopped dead the second his own presence was noticed.

There was one useful bit of gossip he managed to overhear Professor McGonagall share with Professor Flitwick. Harry, for whatever reason, had been unable to obtain his aunt and uncle's permission to go on the regular Hogsmeade outings the older students were occasionally allowed. McGonagall was clearly relieved; it was one less thing for the staff to worry about. Much better for Harry to be safe in the castle, instead of wandering out in the open where anything might happen.

So it was that on Halloween afternoon, Remus finally got his chance to speak to Harry away from prying eyes and ears. It took him a while to locate the boy. Hogwarts was a large castle, and there were many places where a thirteen-year-old boy might go to sulk and feel dejected about not being allowed to enjoy an adventure, however small, with his friends.

Remus felt sorry for the boy. He remembered many times in his first few years at the school when he had been forced apart from his own friends by the necessity of the full moon, before they had even learnt his fearful secret - before they had learnt to change and join him. He had always felt, on those nights, that he was missing out on something wonderful. Occasionally, he had missed some merry caper or adventure or particularly delicious prank. Most times, however, his friends had waited until he was able to take part in their plans, and he had only missed a night spent talking or studying or playing games. Yes, he knew exactly how Harry must feel.

But try as he might, he could not find the boy. Eventually, he returned to his own office. Perhaps Harry was not sulking around the castle, after all. Remus had had many letters from Dumbledore over the past two years, telling tales of the boy's resourcefulness, his remarkable ability to turn up in unexpected places without being detected, and his ability to get hold of information which had been intentionally withheld from him.

James had had that uncanny ability as well, and Remus was one of the few who had known his secret: an invisibility cloak, handed down to him by his father.

I wonder what ever became of that old thing?

He shook his head. Chances were, it had been lost in the destruction of Lily and James's home on the night of their deaths, but Remus thought he would not be surprised to discover it had somehow found its way to their son, in much the same way James's nose for mischief had. If Harry had the cloak, and if he knew half of what the Marauders had known about the secret passages of Hogwarts, there was every chance the boy was in Hogsmeade even now, despite all the precautions of his elders.

Remus had sincerely hoped he would be able to find Harry, but a small part of him left over from his own schooldays could not begrudge his friends' son an adventure of his own. He only hoped Harry would be careful.

Talking to the boy would have helped take Remus's mind off some of the dark thoughts that plagued him, however. This was the twelfth anniversary of the night his life had ended.

It was one of our favourite holidays, he remembered with a sad smile.

There had been the traditional Hogsmeade trip, of course, and the Halloween feast, but their little circle had always managed to arrange an unsanctioned adventure or prank on that night.

Some of their adventures had been harmless, silly ones, like getting dressed up and riding their brooms past the first years' windows at midnight, shrieking their heads off. Others, he reflected, had been truly stupid, like the time they had convinced Davey Gudgeon that Whomping Willow sap was a surefire cure for spots.

But there had been no Halloween pranks, or even company, for twelve long years, and this year would be worse than most. Or better. He couldn't decide. Tonight, after the feast, the full moon would rise.

He sighed. At least there were no pranks to be missed because of his unwilling transformation. He was even beginning to think that the full moon would be a blessing, this once. Most Halloween nights of recent years had been spent lying awake and alone with his memories, some sweet and some deeply bitter. At least with the help of the potion, he would sleep, and would not remember anything when he woke. But that blessed oblivion was hours away yet, and he had nothing to do until then but remember.

Or so he thought, until he heard slow footsteps echo in the corridor. He put his head out of the office and blinked in surprise to see Harry walking past.

"Harry?" he said incredulously.

He had half-convinced himself that the boy really had done as his father would have, and gone to Hogsmeade regardless of rules and warnings.

This is not James, he reminded himself sternly.

He looked around, just to be sure they were alone, suppressing his own pleasure at this chance meeting as he inquired after the whereabouts of Harry's usually-inseperable friends, Ron and Hermione. When Harry confirmed in a dejected tone that they had gone to Hogsmeade without him, Remus invited the boy in with the excuse of showing him a newly-arrived Grindylow.

He offered Harry a cup of tea as the boy examined the ugly little water demon and invited him to take a seat across his desk.

"I've only got tea bags, I'm afraid," he said, rummaging through his desk, "but I daresay you've had enough of tea leaves?"

Remus allowed himself a tiny smile. He had heard from Professor McGonagall about Sybil Trelawney's dire predictions regarding Harry. He gathered she was rather a joke in the staff room - a place she rarely visited. Still, it was understandable that Harry would feel a little uncomfortable. Death omens, however dubious the source, had a way of unsettling people.

Harry stared moodily into the dark, steamy beverage. Remus could see that the boy had much on his mind, but was at a loss how to begin.

"Anything worrying you, Harry?" he asked gently.

"No," said Harry. Then after a moment, "yes."

As he had known he would eventually, Harry asked him again about the Boggart, and why he had not been allowed to face it. Remus explained to Harry his concerns over having Voldemort suddenly materialise in the midst of a group of students. But it seemed he had misjudged the boy.

"I did think of Voldemort first," he admitted, "but then I - I remembered those Dementors."

Remus was intrigued. While nearly everyone in the Wizarding world had gone in terror of Voldemort, and most who had met him face to face feared him more than anything else, this boy who had faced him three times already did not. He even spoke the Dark wizard's name without flinching. His real fear - fear itself - was much more abstract and grown up than Remus would have expected.

Remus felt a rush of sympathy at this first insight into the mind of his friends' son. His own fears were just as abstract, though in his case, it was love that truly terrified him. He was gratified to see Harry cheer up when he understood that his teacher had not actually thought him incapable of successfully performing the lesson.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Severus Snape, carrying a steaming goblet. Remus groaned inwardly. It was bad enough having to depend on Snape for his monthly potion. He had not wanted Harry to see this. He had also seen over the past weeks how Snape treated the boy - another thing he and Harry had in common - and he felt badly for drawing any further attention to him. He knew the Potions master would watch the boy with more suspicion than ever if he suspected a friendly association between Harry and his erstwhile schoolmate.

Remus tried to treat the situation as casually as possible, smiling and thanking Snape for the potion, and informing the man that Harry was just visiting to see the new Grindylow. Snape was not to be deflected by pleasantries. His eyes flicked suspiciously between them. Scowling, he reminded Remus that the potion was better drunk sooner than later, while it was hot, and departed without any valediction.

Harry stared after him curiously, then at the steaming goblet on his teacher's desk, clearly drawing his own conclusions. Remus could tell from the boy's expression that he did not trust the Potions master any more than Remus himself did. But at least Remus knew, as the boy did not, that Snape would do what he must for the great debt he owed Dumbledore, including keeping the school safe from the likes of him.

He explained the potion away to Harry in the vaguest possibly terms, hoping the boy would lose interest, and maybe even forget about it.

"I've been feeling a bit off-colour," he told Harry as he took a sip.

It was nasty, bitter stuff, and he shuddered. Harry was still eyeing the goblet suspiciously.

"Professor Snape is very interested in the Dark Arts," he said at last, giving Remus a significant look.

So that was it. Harry was worried Snape might try to poison him to get his job. Remus had to admit that he had forgotten what a talent the other man had had in his schooldays at Defence Against the Dark Arts. That would certainly explain the extra dose of loathing and disdain with which the Potions master regarded him. It was not just a festering schoolboy grudge; it was the disappointment of a man who had yet again failed to attain the position he wanted - and not only that, but had lost it to someone he despised. Remus actually felt a small measure of pity for the man.

He also felt the back of his neck beginning to tingle a little. Outside the window, the autumn sun was just touching the horizon. He had better hurry up and finish his potion; it would forestall the onset of the change for a time, among its other benefits. In the meantime, the tingling was very distracting, and made him poor company; he was having a difficult time focussing on anything Harry was saying. Draining the goblet, he quickly dismissed the still puzzled-looking boy from his office.

The timing was a shame, really. He would have liked to talk to the boy a while longer. Talking with Harry had been a pleasant distraction from his dark thoughts. He gazed across the smoking, empty goblet to see Harry hurrying away down the corridor, looking thoughtful.

As soon as the boy was out of sight, Remus turned down the corridor in the opposite direction, toward his rooms. He would have just enough time to get changed before the feast, and he needed something to get the taste of the potion out of his mouth.