Please, please, please review! Thank you to all who reviewed last chapter!

And happy Hanukkah to all who celebrate it, just in case I don't update by then.

Once the new year came, the euphoria I felt at successfully finding my Animagus form faded slightly as the castle became crowded again and I had to keep my head low, but to tell the truth I was slightly relived for the extra company, whether they hated me or not, because the tension between my friends was getting to be suffocating.

Harry and Ron were angry with Hermione over the whole Firebolt incident – Harry was upset that, for a few hours, he had been the owner of the best broom in the world and because of Hermione he might never get it back. He was also convinced that both brooms were jinx-free, and as much as I wanted to believe my father would never hurt me, I wasn't sure about that.

Ron was downright furious – in his eyes, the stripping down of a broom like our Firebolts was nothing less than a crime. As much as I was known for my short fuse, I had to admit he was being a bit ornery about the entire ordeal; lamenting the brooms loudly when he knew Hermione was right there, not even acknowledging her presence when they were in the same room, and completely refusing to even let her explain herself.

Hermione had been booted out of her own Common Room, and I only saw her at meals, in classes, and when I was in the library either looking for dog books or Latin dictionaries. She was pouring herself into Buckbeak's case at an almost unhealthy level, but I didn't dare mention it to either her, for fear of getting my head bitten off, or the boys, because I doubted they'd listen anyways.

Personally I was trying to stay as far away as humanly possible from either side, because while I didn't want to believe that my international-quality broom was jinxed, I knew Hermione was just looking out for us. My main concern regarding this whole issue was who sent the broom, and I really wasn't sleeping very well at night because of that.

Although, some good had come with the return to school: McGonagall had gotten my ankle cuff limitations extended. I was now allowed on school grounds from sunrise to sunset, excluding all of the Forbidden Forest, and I had escaped to the lake several times when the Common Room gets too tense.

Really, the only time I had to see all of them was classes and dinner.

Oliver was both ecstatic about having two Firebolts on his team and mad that they had been taken away, and he had a tendency to talk my ears off about it, like he did one January afternoon, almost making me late for Defense.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin, I – wait." I skid to a stop and stare at the billowing black robes of the Potions Professor. "You're not Professor Lupin."

"A brilliant observation, Miss Black," Snape sneers, spitting out my name like it was poison. "And now that you've finally joined us, ten points from Gryffindor for your tardiness. Sit down."

I stay quiet as I slide into a seat away from Harry and Ron but a bit closer to Hermione. "I hope Lupin's okay."

Hermione just gives me an unreadable look as she sets her book down on the table. "He might be."

"He's been sick at least once a month for the entire year," I continue. "Do you think he has some sort of disease, or-"

"Miss Black," Snape sneers, and suddenly he's right in front of my desk, "did I tell you to chat with Ms. Granger?"

I raise my eyes defiantly to hold his gaze. "No sir, but I was the one speaking, not Hermione."

"I do not care." He growls. "Twenty more points from Gryffindor. Do it again and you will both have detention. Turn to page 394 in your textbooks and read the chapter on werewolves."

Hermione opens her mouth to protest, "But, sir, we-" but I silence her with a look and a small shake of my head.

I flip to the designated page and prop my chin on my hand as I begin to read.

Werewolves…dangerous…full moon…transform, blah, blah, blah…

"Ori!" Hermione hisses, and I glance up at her. "Look at paragraph four."

"Werewolves only transform on the full moon, which occurs once every month, usually around the same time per month. There has been recorded months of two full moons in one month, but it is rare.

Before werewolf transforms, the symptoms become quite clear. He/she will become extremely tired, sore, and lethargic; almost as if they had the flu. Werewolves will not be able to carry out their human responsibilities for a few days both before and after the full moon…"

I blink at the book a few times as the words sink into my brain.

Werewolves essentially acted sick once a month, around the same time each month, and became pretty much unable to be human.

Lupin had been sick once each month since he worked here and they were all usually near the end of the month, in the last week or two.

I shiver as my brain puts two and two together, looking back up at Hermione, who was staring at me with eyes that held an odd mixture of fear, uncertainness, disbelief, and reluctance.

I feel like I could throw up as Professor Snape assigns us all a three page essay on signs to identify a werewolf. As soon as he dismisses us, I grab Hermione and take off out of the classroom, silently thanking whatever deities that existed that Potions was our last class before lunch.

"Ori," Hermione gasps as we approach the Common Room, "what are – where are –"

"Trust me," I plead between giving the Fat Lady the password and hopping through the opening. "I know a place where we can talk."

"If you say so…"

"I do." I call back as I dash up the stairs to our dorm, quickly grabbing the Marauder's Map and the Latin dictionary I had been using for the past two weeks. A quick check of the map reveals almost nobody near where I want to be, and I quickly refold it and stick it in my back pocket before taking off down the stairs again.

I don't break stride as I grab Hermione again. "Come on, I know a place we can talk."

"Alright, but can you at least let go of me?"

"Fine." I drop her arm and slow down a little as we continue out the Common Room and down a flight of stairs. "But stay quiet, please."

"'Rissa, where-"

"I'll explain when we get there," I cut her off. "Just…come on."

About five minutes later we're in Hogwarts' east basement, standing in front of a familiar picture of a bowl of fruit.

"The kitchens?" Hermione asks suspiciously from behind me. "Um, this isn't really private, per say…"

I wave her off dismissively as I tickle the pear. "I know a guy." The painting swings open, and I step forward and just barely brace myself before a short, green blur slams into me.

"Missy Rissy!" Dobby squeals as squeezes my torso even harder. "Dobby is being so glad to see you's, Miss! Dobby was telling all of his coworkers about you's true self!"

"Thanks, Dobby," I grunt as I discreetly try to loosen his vice grip on my midsection. "What do they think of my father?"

The elf's usually chipper features darken slightly. "The elves do not agree, Missy Rissy. Dobby is believing he is being innocent, ma'am, for the older elves say that Mister Black was kind to them when he was a student, and that he would never betray his friends, but the other elves is saying the want to chop his head off with a meat cleaver…Miss."

I hide the snicker that arises at that mental image behind my hand. "Okay then. Dobby, I need your help."

"Dobby is getting to help Missy Rissy!" Dobby jumps up into what I guess is the elf equivalent of 'at attention'. "What does Miss need?"

"I need a secluded table for the next," I glance at the clock on the wall, "half an hour and a privacy bubble. Oh, and if you wouldn't mind, two plates of whatever they're serving in the Great Hall. Please?"

Dobby nods enthusiastically, his big bat ears flapping wildly. "Dobby will do that, Miss, for Dobby is proud to serve you's! The table is this way."

I motion for Hermione to follow as Dobby grabs my hand and leads us to a small wooden table with two chairs, out of sight of the main kitchen and hidden in a small alcove off to the side. With a snap of his fingers I can see the green sheen of the privacy bubble appear, and with another snap there's two plates of roast beef and mashed potatoes with two goblets of pumpkin juice. "Is that all, Miss?"

I nod and reach to pat the elf on the head. "Yes, thank you Dobby. I'll tell Harry you said hello."

With a nod and a crack he disappears, and I take one of the seats.

"What was that?" Hermione questions curiously as we both dig in to our plates.

"House elf," I mumble around a mouthful of potatoes, "'m not sure if the library has anything on 'em."

I see the usual spark of glee at a new research topic ignite in Hermione's eyes as she continues her questioning. "He treats you like royalty, why is that?"

"I helped get him away from a bad…" I hesitate, not sure how Hermione would react to the word 'master', let alone finding out it was Lucius Malfoy, "…sort of people, and he's had that hero worship thing for both Harry and I ever since." I shrug.

The table falls silent until we're finished, and after I've stacked the dishes neatly off to the side I place the Latin dictionary on the table while Hermione takes out what looks like the lunar calendars we use in Astronomy.

"Okay," I start, "so. Lupin."

"If our theory is correct, the reason he should be out today is because he's either preparing or recuperating," Hermione hypothesizes. "Today is the 24th…there's a full moon this Thursday." She blinks.

"Could it be a coincidence?" I ask hopefully.

She doesn't answer as she looks at something else on the chart. "Do you remember when he was out last month?"

I crinkle my brow in thought. "I don't think he was at our lesson on the 29th."

"And the month before that?"

"I…he wasn't at the lesson on the 30th…Hermione?"

"The full moon for December 1993 was on the 28th and November 1993 was the 29th," she reports in a flat tone before drawing in a shaky breath and looking at me with tears in her eyes. "Ori, is Professor Lupin…?"

"Not yet," I mutter weakly as I grab the dictionary and flip to the L's. "There's one more theory I want to test."

"Why do you even have a Latin dictionary?"

"I needed it for…stuff," I reply distractedly as I find the word I'm looking for. "Aha! 'Wolf' in Latin is lupus."

"Lupin." She repeats slowly, feeling the sounds of the word on her tongue. She sighs. "It's not a coincidence, is it."

I shake my head in response to the non-question and put my head in my heads. "It's official, our luck with DADA teachers sucks."

"First Quirrel," Hermione remembers, "then Lockhart, and now…"

"Professor Lupin's a werewolf."