September 19, 1992

It was immediately clear that Hermione was uncomfortable about something.

The two of them were sitting, as they so often were, in the library. It hadn't taken long last year for Hermione to find a table she particularly liked — squirreled far in the back corner, snug between shelves under one of the tall, stained-glass windows. The last couple weeks, they'd had Jasmine and Luna joining them more often than not. At first, it had seemed like Hermione might protest — she certainly preferred a calm and quiet study environment, and was far from shy in enforcing her opinion — but it had quickly become apparent that the two younger Ravenclaws were, for the most part, just as focused as they were. Sometimes Jasmine wanted to talk out one topic or another with them, usually directly related to something from class but at times only tangentially, but Hermione was perfectly willing to participate most of the time, and would simply put up a silencing barrier around herself and let Charissa handle it the times she wasn't.

This time, they were alone. Much as Charissa had expected, Luna had handled introducing Ginny Weasley and Jasmine to each other after just a couple of days, and the two had hit it off almost instantly. Some hours ago, Jasmine had gone with Gwyneira and Ginny down to the grounds to borrow (steal) a couple of school brooms and mess around. Somewhat to her surprise, Luna had drifted after them — far as Charissa knew, Luna had absolutely none of the interest the other three had for quidditch, so she couldn't imagine why she felt like tagging along. Not that Charissa particularly cared, really. As long as Luna had legitimate friends, the details didn't matter to her.

And she had heard from Morag yesterday that Jasmine had already gotten into a screaming match in the common room with a couple people who had started in on Luna with the merciless teasing Charissa had honestly expected to be constant by now. So, that was going well.

Thus, Hermione's discomfort couldn't have anything to do with their usual hangers-on. But it was obvious something was bothering her. Neither of them had really said a word for over an hour now — to be completely honest, she found Hermione's lack of a need most people seemed to have to fill silence with pointless blather a bit of a relief — but it was still obvious. She kept shifting in her chair, more frequently and awkwardly than usual. She would occasionally let out a little huff. She was turning pages far less often than she usually would. All was subtle enough Charissa wasn't sure anyone who hadn't spent hours and hours sitting next to her in these very chairs would ever notice.

Normally, she wouldn't draw attention to it. She knew she hated it when people unilaterally put her on the spot about most anything. But it was starting to get a bit distracting. 'What is it?'

Hermione started — only slightly, the smallest of jolts as her attention snapped back to her surroundings. 'Huh?'

'It's obvious something's bothering you. We're alone back here, so you might as well tell me.'

When she glanced up to check, she saw Hermione was staring back at her, her face pulled into a doubtful frown, teeth working at her bottom lip as she so often did. After a short sigh, she gave a hesitant combination nod/shrug. 'You've known Professor Lupin for a long time, right?'

Okay. This was not the discussion topic she had been expecting. Not that she'd been entirely sure what to expect, but still. 'Yes.'

'Rather well, if I understand correctly.'

'Yes. I've been calling him Uncle Remus for as long as I can remember. We're not actually related — he's just been friends with my dad since forever. Why?'

'I've just been—' Hermione cut off suddenly, glancing around the rest of the library for an instant before opening her mouth again. 'He's a werewolf, isn't he?'

Oh.

Well. This was going to be fun.

Charissa pulled out her wand and, ignoring the flinch from Hermione, cast on the air around them one of the more handy spells Dad had taught her. It was rather like a silencing barrier, though not quite — sound emanating from within the charm's area of effect was muffled, preventing people from outside its range understanding anything spoken, but allowed sound from outside to pass through unmolested. Dad suggested it was very handy for any private conversations she might want to have she didn't want anyone walking in on. Only by getting close enough would anyone be able to hear, and she should hear herself anyone approaching before they could. Just perfect for this sort of situation.

'Yes,' Charissa said, setting her wand down on the table — and doing her best to ignore the obvious relief passing Hermione's face. 'He is.'

Hermione was silent a moment, as though reevaluating everything in light of this new piece of information. 'I thought he might be.'

'Noticed we always had a substitute around the full moons?' She'd hoped, since the full moon was always on a different day of the week and how Hogwarts class schedules shuffled, there wouldn't be enough obvious data points for any one person to figure it out. An observant person could notice at mealtimes Remus didn't look so good at regular intervals, but most students hardly spared the professors a glance.

'I did notice that, but there are other medical conditions that worsen at the full moon. Even if it were werewolf-related, I also thought it was possible he was being called out to fight or ward places against them — he is recognised as an expert in such things. I at first dismissed the theory of him being a werewolf himself out of hand.'

Charissa had to blink at that. 'Really.'

Sounding a little sheepish, Hermione said, 'Well, yes. It was so much of a coincidence I thought the conclusion was too convenient to be true.'

'Okay. What do you mean?'

'The name, mostly. In Roman mythology, his first name is identical to that of the co-founder of the City of Rome — though details vary from version to version, it is common to depict both he and his brother as being partially raised by a wolf. And then there's his surname. We usually use the term lycanthropy to refer to the condition in general. But that's from Greek — derived from lykanþropía. There's a Latin term, too — febris lupīna. That just seemed like too much of a coincidence for me.'

Charissa couldn't help but smile a little. That was just so very Hermione. 'Remus is a not uncommon name, and his family traces descent from a somewhat famous wizard from the Fourteenth Century who was a wolf animagus — hence, Lupin. It is a rather odd coincidence, I guess.'

'Yeah.' Hermione hesitated a long moment, staring at her book in silence. There was more coming, obviously, but Charissa just waited for her to get it out. 'He's okay, right?'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I read a bit about werewolves. There's a lot of material out there about how lycanthropy causes, essentially, a form of psychopathy, anger issues, that sort of—'

'No.' Hermione started, looking up at her warily and with perhaps a tinge of fear. Her voice had been a bit harsh, she would admit, but she had to get Hermione off that train of thought. 'You have to understand the blood purity culture is especially strong in Britain. Anything that makes someone anything other than a good, pureblooded witch or wizard is feared or reviled as appropriate. This includes werewolves. Do not read anything on the subject by a British author dating anywhere between now and roughly the Sixteenth Century — it's all shite, propaganda from the same people who, were they in charge, wouldn't even permit people like you a wand.'

Hermione was silent another long moment, her eyes falling into an oddly unfocused, glazed sort of look as they always did when she was focusing harder on her library of memory than she was the present moment. Eventually, 'So all that stuff about how a werewolf is inherently violent, can't really help himself, has lost part of his humanity, is really nothing more than a beast—'

'Complete trash,' Charissa said with a nod. 'You definitely don't want to be around one on the night of the full moon, but on every other day they're perfectly normal people.'

'And Professor Lupin is decent.'

Charissa had to smile slightly at that. 'Only one of the nicer people I know. To a fault, really. Over the summer, I've had to find other people to start getting duelling practice in — he refuses to even mock fight me.' Which would be news to Hermione, since Hermione wasn't one of the people she'd asked, and not just because she figured the other girl had vanishingly little interest. With the way Hermione's memory worked, she would vividly remember every single jinx and hex Charissa hit her with forever. Charissa really didn't like the thought of that.

For another couple seconds, Hermione considered that. Then she nodded, and returned to reading, all hints of distraction gone. Smiling to herself a little, Charissa did the same.

(Pulled from The Daily Prophet, September 23rd, 1992)

Werewolf at Hogwarts!

Ever since being appointed High Enchanter of þe Wizengamot, Albus Dumbledore has been a constant subject of controversy. Þose who have attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, þe prestigious state academy where þe High Enchanter is in his þirty-sevenþ year as Headmaster, are more intimately familiar wið his more peculiar proclivities — particularly in his hiring decisions. In recent weeks, some have quietly protested þe naming of þe abnormally young Ariþmancy Master Septima Adelheid Vector as Head of Slyðerin House, but some decisions have been far less innocuous.

Any recent graduate of Hogwarts would certainly remember þe academy's gargantuan groundskeeper. Rubeus Hagrid's half-giant heritage, and his perhaps inappropriate adoration of creatures easily deadly to anyone of human size and durability, has long been common knowledge. After much debate among þe Wizengamot, among þe Hogwarts' Governors, and public fora everywhere, it was eventually decided to trust þe High Enchanter's judgement, and let his unusual appointment stand.

Þe appointment of one Master Filius Flitwick as Professor of Charms, and later Head of Ravenclaw House, was equally controversial. As many readers may remember, Master Flitwick is þe grandson of a goblin excommunicated from þeir community for sedition — þat sedition being þe act which resulted in Master Flitwick's moðer, as such relations wið humans are a grievous crime under goblin law. His appointment to þe position was viciously protested by boð human and goblin representatives, but was ultimately allowed to stand as well.

Þis time, we here at Þe Daily Prophet feel þe High Enchanter has gone too far. We can now confirm þat Master Remus John Lupin, appointed Professor of Defence last year, is a werewolf, contaminated in his childhood by none oðer þan þe infamous terrorist Fenrir Greyback.

Þis reporter met wið a number of current Hogwarts students, and þe picture is...

'This— This— She—'

'Calm down, Hermione. It's fine.'

'She quoted us! She took everything out of context and edited the wording a bit to make it sound as awful as possible, but she quoted us! She doesn't name you, but this bit here about indoctrinating students with controversial beliefs is almost exactly what you said about the British culture of blood purity!'

'I did notice that.'

'But we never talked to her!'

'I know.'

'What are we going to do about this? We can't let this Skeeter woman get away with ruining Professor Lupin like this!'

'We're not going to, Hermione. I think you forget who my father is.'

(Pulled from The Daily Prophet, September 27th, 1992)

Retraction and Apologies

It has been brought to our attention þat þere were a number of irregularities wiðin an article printed in last Wednesday's issue. Þe editing staff here at Þe Daily Prophet would like to make a number of clarifications, corrections, and apologies.

Þose who read þe story in question — front page, Werewolf at Hogwarts — will recall two of þe four sources of direct quotes were attributed to one Hermione Jean Granger (13), a second-year Hogwarts student, in conjunction wið a second, unnamed source, identified only as anoðer second-year girl. Þe editing staff was not aware of þe identity of þe second source at printing, but we have since been informed þe girl in question was Charissa Cassiopeia (12), þe young heir apparent of þe Noble House of Potter.

Writing on behalf of his daughter, Lord James Bonifatius Potter informed us þe two girls did not approach Rita Skeeter, þe primary auþor of þe piece. Þe quotes used were, in fact, pulled from a private conversation between þe two, carried out behind correctly-cast privacy charms. According to Lord Potter, boð girls are willing to swear before officers of þe Wizengamot þat þey never met Skeeter, nor were þey aware þeir conversation was overheard. A course of action which may become necessary — due to þeir ages, any means Skeeter must have used to eavesdrop past wards such as þose þey used would be in violation of þe 1826 Child Protection Act.

Furðermore, Lord Potter wishes to clarify þat þe quotes taken from Miss Granger were misapplied, intentionally manipulated by Skeeter to furðer defame Master Lupin. Miss Granger was not speaking directly of Master Lupin, but paraphrasing what she had read of werewolves, which led directly to Miss Potter's summary of anti-werewolf sentiment common in British society — criticism common among progressive voices in þe Wizengamot, Lord Potter himself included, but cast by Skeeter as suspect indoctrination instilled by Master Lupin.

Þe Daily Prophet would like to apologise to our readership for þis breach of proper journalistic etiquette. For her unacceptable meðods, and pending a criminal investigation, Rita Skeeter has been suspended wiðout pay. We also must apologise to Charissa Potter and Hermione Granger. We will take greater care wið confirming þe proper meðods are used by our reporters in future.

But, regrettably, þat is not þe end of irregularities found in þis single article. We have also received correspondence from þe office of þe Director of Law Enforcement, inquiring exactly how it was Skeeter discovered who passed lycanþropy to Master Lupin. Master Lupin had only been six years old at þe time. Due to his age at þe time of his infection, þe specifics of þe incident were sealed under þe 1889 Privacy of Victims Act. Þe fact of Master Lupin's lycanþropy is not protected information, but þat it was Fenrir Greyback who infected him is. Even þose who knew of his condition, including individuals from several Noble Houses, were not told þis detail. We are told þe Department of Law Enforcement is also investigating how Skeeter came across such protected information.

Furðer, it is presumed Greyback's assault was revenge against Master Remus Lupin's faðer, Master Lyall Lupin, a dark creatures expert recognised internationally as þe contemporary auþority on dementors, who volunteered to aid þe Department for þe Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in combatting Greyback's terrorist organisation. Master Lyall Lupin was himself murdered, reportedly on Greyback's orders, seven years later, þe next monþ posthumously awarded þe Order of Myrðin, Second Class. Contrary to Skeeter's inferences, at no time was Master Remus Lupin under þe direct influence of þe infamous Pack, and obviously has little cause to sympaþise wið Greyback's movement.

Þerefore, we offer a retraction for all assertions regarding þe temperament and motivations of Master Remus John Lupin, and apologise for any undue distress Skeeter's unprofessional meðods may have caused. However, now þat his lycanþropy has been revealed, we here at Þe Daily Prophet believe wheðer such an individual should be allowed a professorship at Hogwarts is still a valid topic of concern.

We will be keeping abreast of furðer developments.

'Did we just get someone arrested?'

'Quite possibly.'

'I'm not sure how comfortable I am with that.'

'Hermione, it is unquestionable that Skeeter woman broke the law at some point along the line, writing that horrible article of hers. And this probably wasn't the first time, either.'

'But the only reason they're even looking is because of who your father is.'

'They didn't mention it, but they got an angry letter from Sirius too, and that probably helped as well. But that's just the way it works sometimes. Besides, wouldn't you rather our hopelessly archaic aristocracy, as Mum likes to call it, work for you rather than against you?'

'I suppose. I'm still not comfortable with it.'

'I guess I can't stop you.'

October 12, 1992

'And you're sure he's not going to be annoyed with us?'

Charissa withheld her annoyed sign by the very tip of her tongue. That had to be the twelfth time Hermione had asked that question. Hermione did tend to worry over things more than she should — she thought the habit was likely a consequence of her peculiar memory — and it really did get annoying sometimes. Especially when Hermione was worrying over something she really didn't have to. 'Yes, I'm sure he won't be annoyed with us. A little embarrassed because of when he's seeing us, but he'll get over it.'

'Well.' Hermione worked at her lip with her teeth for a moment, frowning to herself. 'If you're sure.'

'Yes, very sure.' Without giving Hermione another second to dither further, Charissa pushed the door open, stepping into Uncle Remus's Hogwarts apartments. She'd hardly been here at all since starting, just a couple visits. Mostly just dropping things off and picking things up, once staying a while for tea around Remus's birthday — Sirius had shown up out of the blue halfway through and made a nuisance of himself, so she'd fled after a little. So she was familiar enough with the place. Very sparsely furnished and decorated, enough so that the bare stone of the walls and floor were still mostly visible. Remus hadn't had a lot to move in with him, after all. A bank of stained glass -lined windows looked out over the forest, the partially-risen sun passing through the coloured parts setting the bare sitting room to rainbow sparkling. But she ignored it, kept walking through, moving toward the room where she knew she would find him.

Remus's bedroom was a little more filled than the previous — though even then just because he'd combined bedroom and personal office, which were two separate rooms for most professors. Bookshelves lining the walls, a simple desk strewn with semi-regularly organised piles of parchment at one gap in the endless books, a few flickering photographs hanging above. The floor was mostly covered in an assortment of soft rugs, which made Charissa feel vaguely uncomfortable for still wearing her shoes.

And in the bed, propped up against the headboard with a book open in his lap, was Remus. 'Charissa, what are you doing here?' His voice was weak and a little hoarse, though stronger than she knew it would have been even an hour ago. He looked a little pale, a little drawn, like he was both coming off some sort of illness and hadn't gotten enough sleep. Which was true, in a sense. His eyes flicked behind her as she walked a little further into the room. 'And Miss Granger too?'

With an easy shrug, Charissa said, 'We have a free period right now, thought we'd drop in.'

Remus gave her a suspicious frown. 'Don't second-year Ravenclaws have History right now?'

'Yes, that's what I meant.' It was actually surprisingly common among Ravenclaws to skip History lectures entirely. Most picked up the material from the book better than the useless Professor's aimless rambling, and just reading it was far faster than his slow drone. Charissa had had to get a sixth-year prefect to back her up on it being a more efficient use of time to just not go for Hermione to finally agree to study with her instead. Today excluded, anyway.

For a moment, Remus hesitated — an internal war between what he should say as a professor and his knowledge of just how much of a pathetic waste of time those lectures were — before just letting it pass. 'Alright. But I'm not much in a mood to entertain right now, you know.'

Charissa nodded. The full moon had been just last night — that was exactly why they were here. 'We know. Hermione just had something for you.'

An eyebrow softly raised, Remus's eyes tipped over to Hermione, who was still standing a bit behind Charissa's shoulder, awkwardly shifting in place a little. After a few seconds, Hermione huffed to herself lowly enough Charissa almost couldn't hear it. She stepped around her to stand just a couple steps off from the side of Remus's bed. 'I wanted to apologise, Professor.' A momentary flash of surprise crossed Remus's face. 'If I hadn't interrogated Charissa about you, none of this would have—'

'No, Miss Granger,' he said, shaking his head with a tired sort of smile. 'This is hardly your fault. To be perfectly honest I was a bit surprised it took this long for it to come out. I managed to go through all seven years when I was a student here without more than a few of my classmates finding out, but professors are under much greater scrutiny than students — the Defence professor perhaps even greater than the others. It was inevitable it would come out eventually, something I had several long arguments with the Headmaster about before finally accepting his offer. Someone as observant and clever as you would certainly figure it out before long. As Ravenclaws are so fond of saying, curiosity is a virtue — I can hardly fault you that.

'So, your apology is entirely unnecessary, Miss Granger. You have done nothing wrong.'

Charissa could tell Hermione had absolutely no idea how to respond to that. No matter how many times Charissa had told her she had nothing to worry about, Hermione still expected Remus to be angry with her over her part in that Skeeter article last month, so she was completely unprepared for him being so not angry at her he wouldn't even let her finish her apology. But, then, Remus was like that — not that Charissa had expected her to really know that. The sum total of their interaction had been in class, and a couple somewhat more informal sessions over the summer, not exactly the best way to feel out the other's personality so well.

It probably didn't help that Hermione was a bit obsessive about not stepping on anyone's toes, giving no cause for offense to authority figures especially. Or at least she was when she'd been sleeping properly — she seemed to grow gradually more abrasive the more tired she got — but these days Charissa hardly had to resort to sleeping charms at all anymore.

'Well, erm.' Hermione visibly shook off a bit of her disorientation, reached into a pocket. 'I, er, got this for you, anyway.' She held her little peace offering out to him — a small, single-dose glass potion bottle.

An odd mix of curiosity and hesitation on his voice, Remus slowly took the bottle, held it up in a patch of sunlight. 'What is it?' he asked after a moment.

'It's a combination of an analgesic and a psychostimulant—' Hermione broke off at the vaguely confused look on Remus's face. 'I'm sorry, those are muggle medical terms, aren't they?' He just smiled at that, nodding a little. 'It's a mix of a pain relief potion, an invigorating potion, and should also have a little bit of a restorative effect as well.'

'Ah.' Remus gave her something of a peculiar look, frowning very slightly. 'I certainly appreciate the thought, Miss Granger, but, firstly, normal pain relief potions do not work on the lingering symptoms of—'

'Excuse me, Professor, but I know that. The standard analgesic people usually have on hand is designed for surface tissues — skin and muscle, mostly. I looked it up, and potions designed to treat tendon and ligament pain do reduce the deep tissue aches associated with lycanthropy. That's what I put in there.'

He gave her another long look, now not quite frowning, more of a steady thoughtful look. 'I have a suspicion that, were I to point out one can't simply mix together potions like this, you'd have a response for that as well.'

Hermione nodded. 'I found a book of reaction tables in the library — a more comprehensive one than we use in our class, I mean. After running the arithmancy with a few combinations, I finally found an analgesic of the right type and an invigorating draught that wouldn't react with each other. I did have to modify the invigorating draught part a little bit, but it should work.'

Since Remus was giving Hermione a strongly disbelieving expression, Charissa decided to contribute. 'Neville and I tested her first batch yesterday. It works.' Not that she was going to explain how they had tested it. She didn't think Remus would be exactly pleased with the idea of the two of them hexing each other just so they could see if Hermione's experimental potion worked. Nor Hermione, for that matter — she hadn't exactly offered details when she'd given her opinion.

Giving the two of them something of an odd look, he picked up his wand from a little bedside table, vanished the stopper with a tap. Placing his wand down on his book, he switched the bottle to his right hand, carefully tilted it until just a couple drops settled in his palm. After placing the bottle gently upright on the table, he picked up his wand again, the air suddenly sparking with one diagnostic charm after another centred on the couple drops of potion in his hand, flipping from one to the next so quickly Charissa noticed Hermione blinking with something between confusion and awe.

Then Remus was done, staring at the couple drops of potion with a blank look oddly similar to Hermione's. 'Miss Granger... You brewed this yourself? You didn't get Professor Bourne or one of the upper years to help you?'

'No.' There were the slightest traces of an offended tone on the edges of her voice.

For a few seconds, he just sat blinking at Hermione. 'This is really good work.'

'Thank you, Professor.'

'No, Miss Granger, I don't think you understand. Mixing potions like this — and definitely whatever you did to modify the invigorating draught — is NEWT-level work. I wouldn't expect most of our students to be able to do this until nearly the end of sixth year.'

Hermione was silent for a long, long moment. 'Oh.' She turned to look over her shoulder at Charissa, a very peculiar look on her face. Charissa just shrugged at her. As far as she knew, it was technically true that this wasn't something they were taught until sixth year — hence Hermione needing to visit the library in the first place — but that was less to do with the complexity of the material and more the order it was generally taught in. It wasn't really as difficult as Remus made it sound.

Not that Charissa was going to bother pointing that out. If they both wanted to be impressed with Hermione's accomplishment, she saw no real reason to talk them out of it.

(Pulled from The Daily Prophet, November 19th, 1992)

Regarding Professor Remus Lupin

In light of þe recent public discourse concerning þe appointment of certain staff at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, we feel þere are a few þings all concerned parties should keep in mind.

Firstly, as shockingly few seem to realise, while þe Headmaster may select an individual he or she feels appropriate for whatever position, þat appointment must be confirmed by a consensus of þree-quarters of þe Board of Governors. Secondly, while þe Department of Education may have more direct auþority over þe oðer institutions wiðin our nation, Hogwarts is comparatively independent — since þe school technically predates þe United Council, þis is not truly surprising. While oðer institutions exist by a charter under þe Ministry, þe relationship between Hogwarts and þe government is more one of mutual contractual obligations. Disregarding certain emergency situations, neiðer þe Department of Education nor þe Wizengamot have þe legal auþority to remove any Hogwarts staff. Þat right is held solely by þe Board of Governors.

When we interviewed Professor Lupin prior to his appointment, he made no attempt to hide his condition. Indeed, a significant portion of our conversations wið him involved exactly how he planned to protect his own students on þe full moons. On þose nights, Professor Lupin is escorted by Professor Filius Flitwick to a room þe two eminently qualified wizards specially designed, every surface saturated wið werewolf-repelling wards, þe room itself hidden behind a weave of locking and sealing magics so intricate no student could possibly reach Professor Lupin while he is not safe to be around, even should þey try. Þeir precautions were confirmed sufficient by þree independent experts — one Auror, one wardmaster, one cursebreaker — before we even signed off on þe plan, and þe continued integrity of þe room is confirmed by an Auror on a monþly basis.

As a few oðer opinion pieces sent in to Þe Prophet demonstrate, no one who has ever actually met Professor Lupin would þink him a likely þreat to þose around him þe oðer twenty-eight days out of þe monþ. In fact, Professor Lupin is so soft-spoken and unassuming some of us at first þought him an improper match for þe Defence position. While he is raðer reluctant to speak of such þings, and certainly hasn't taken to pontificating in þe classroom, his personal political opinions many would find to be a bit radical — some of þe Light Houses more progressive on creature–being laws, however, would not find much to disagree on. In our deliberations before confirming his appointment, none of us on þe Board of Governors found anyþing particularly objectionable about Professor Lupin's temperament.

Between þe two of us, we have six grandchildren currently attending Hogwarts. Þe þought þat we would willfully subject þe children of our Houses to indoctrination or perhaps even violence is simply ridiculous.

Some may wonder why we even took as much of a risk as þis, no matter how well-managed it may be. But þe answer is really quite simple.

Þe two of us hardly agree on anyþing. We cannot count þe times we've delayed a motion in þe Wizengamot because we couldn't stop arguing wið each oðer. We fully expect þe fact þat we are jointly signing þis open letter to come as quite a surprise to any number of people. But þere is at least one þing we've found we agree on perfectly, þe most relevant reason þe boð of us give Professor Remus Lupin our full support.

Our children's ability to defend þemselves should never — ever — be compromised.

Þe Hogwarts Board of Governors confirmed þe appointment of Master Remus John Lupin to Professor of Defence Against þe Dark Arts due solely to him simply being þe best wizard for þe job. Raðer þan continue to take up space in Þe Prophet wið þis pointless public debate, anyone who objects may send þeir grievances by owl to þe Board of Governors, or eiðer of us personally.

We cannot guarantee anyone will actually read þem.

Signed—

Leuteris Makarios, Lord Regent, NMA House of Gaunt

Augusta Victoria, Lady Regnant, NMA House of Longbottom

lykanþropía (λυκανθρωπία) — transliteration changed a bit to match the orthography I'm using in this story. I also considered changing "lycanthropy" itself to match (lykanþropy), but decided that would just be more confusing than necessary.

febris lupīna — meaning something like "fever of wolves"

Excommunicated — Refers to a goblin tradition by which criminals are stripped of all legal status, essentially declared non-entities (which is why the name of the goblin in question isn't used — the right to a name is also stripped)

[full moon] — I do check a calendar to put the dates on the days of the week I want, and it does include the moon phases. There really was a full moon on October 11, 1992.

Hermione's dropping of medical terminology — Hermione's parents have general medical texts sitting around from their med school days (dental surgeons are fully trained medical doctors), and it's possible she's read all of them. A little atypical vocabulary for her age, I guess, but you'd be surprised what kids can pick up depending on what they're exposed to.

United Council — The formal name of the magical government of the region, the United Council of Celtic Peoples. (Some people say Gaelic instead, but there are complex political connotations.) It's sort of a union of five nations: Brīþa (England), Cymru (Wales), Alba (Scotland), Éire (Ireland), and Brech (the Brittany region of France). The situation with the last two is a bit more complicated, and I may or may not elaborate in-story later. "Britain" properly only refers to Brīþa, but over time the word came to be applied to the whole conglomerate through synecdoche — a use that is often controversial with the people of Éire and Brech.

[Between þe two of us, we have six grandchildren currently attending Hogwarts.] — in case anyone's curious, here you go; Augusta Longbottom's grandkids: Neville L (second-year Hufflepuff), Gwyneira L (first-year Gryffindor); Leuteris Gaunt's grandkids: Caelestis G (fourth-year Slytherin), Sorcha Selwyn (third-year Ravenclaw), Hesperos and Alexis G (first-year Slytherin)

Lord Regent and Lady Regnant — More specific titles as appropriate. Gaunt using Lord Regent is something of a technicality: his mother is still alive, and never technically relinquished the title, so she is Lady Gaunt, but he's been acting in her place for some time now. Longbottom's situation is slightly more complicated. In my headcanon working here, Neville's grandmother inherited the title directly from her father — whether women can inherit the title directly like that varies from House to House. However, if she hadn't been born a Longbottom, and had instead married into the House, her title may or may not be different depending on the particulars of the arrangement. As a contrasting example, Lily's title would be Lady Consort — she is the wife of the Lord Regnant of a Noble House, sharing all the rights and responsibilities he has, but should he die first, Charissa would become Lady Regnant, and Lily would be reduced to simply a member of the House. Yeah, I just have to make things complicated, I know.

NMA — Probably obvious, but print abbreviation for "Noble and Most Ancient". In case anyone was wondering, the Ancient Houses don't have any special rights above Noble Houses — it's a matter of cultural prestige, nothing more.

Leuteris Makarios — Oh, and, yes, this is Merope Gaunt's not-Voldemort son's name. The Leut is pronounced mostly like "left". Because Greek.

I did have a ramble here about how Charissa being perfectly coolsies with Lupin being a werewolf — and then a further bit saying Charissa being a blood purist would make absolutely no sense, disagreeing with a review I got a while ago — but these notes are already getting long enough. In summary, Charissa loved her mother and Dora, a muggleborn and a halfblood respectively, long before she'd heard blood should matter (and is obviously a halfblood herself on top of that); she knew her Uncle Remus long before she'd heard werewolves should be feared and reviled. Given her personal circumstances, her opinions as they are are more emotionally consistent.

Until next time,
~Wings