Prologue

Remus John Lupin felt weary and achy. He lay on the floor of the basement, cold and shivering. As he made to get up, his ribs protested. He touched his slightly bloodied hands to his side, wincing. He must have hurt himself when he threw himself into the wall, trying to get free. Holding his bruised side, he pulled himself to his feet and took account.

Another full moon over without injury to anyone else, he told himself to be grateful. He slowly walked to the door and grabbed his wand from its secured slot above the jamb. He unlocked the sturdy, if battered-looking, door and climbed the stairs to the main cottage.

To call it a cottage made it sound more charming and quaint than it was. It was truly more of a shanty with its single room serving as bedroom and kitchen – and living room if he were so inclined to entertain. The floorboards were scuffed, the paint peeling from the walls and a gas-fired hot plate for all his cooking purposes. To go with the shabby room, a lumpy mattress lay in a corner with a threadbare blanket folded neatly on the end. A small trunk stood near the door with his clothes and any worldly possessions.

Remus did not mind the shabbiness, normally. The reason he had chosen this dwelling was its isolation from the village and for the basement, which he had charmed to be more durable. Today, the shabbiness was starker and the soft light only served to highlight the cracks in the ceiling.

Remus tried muster any enthusiasm for food, but it was too much effort in his aching body. He went to his trunk and pulled on some pyjamas before curling up on the mattress.

Remus was woken by the sound of knocking. He woke with a start and looked at the door. He did not have neighbours, nor was he placed near the road for any travellers to come seeking aid. He stood slowly, reaching for his wand by his pillow.

"Who is it?" he called, standing beside the front door.

"It is I, Albus Dumbledore, here to call upon Remus Lupin," came the calm voice.

Astonished, Remus pulled open the door to reveal a tall man dressed in emerald green robes, smiling at him.

"Professor Dumbledore! What are you doing here?" Remus took in the shining silver beard and hair, the bright blue eyes and the pleasant smile.

"As I said, I have come to call upon you, Remus, if you have the time," said Dumbledore cheerily.

"Of course! Of course! Do come in," said Remus automatically stepping aside to allow him entry.

Dumbledore walked into the cottage – room, really – and Remus immediately regretted the welcome. The space was barely enough for one person, let alone two people, a bed and a trunk. Cringing internally, Remus began, "Perhaps we should go the local pub-"

"No, no." Dumbledore, however, appeared unconcerned by the sparsity.

Resigned, Remus nodded and conjured two chairs. He gestured to one to Dumbledore and took the other.

"Tea? Wine?" Remus asked, vying for a pleasant tone.

"Tea would be lovely."

He waved his wand again and conjured a small table between them, a tea set sitting neatly on top of it. After pouring them both cups, Remus took his but did not drink. Dumbledore would not call on him thus without express reason.

"What can I do for you, Dumbledore?" he asked quietly.

Dumbledore took a small sip of his tea. "I was hoping you would assist me, Remus. I am in a bit of a bind, it seems, once again."

Remus did not say anything, frowning.

"I am in search of a Defence of Against the Dark Arts teacher for Hogwarts and I hoped you would fill the position this year."

After a long pause, Remus burst out, "ME?"

"Yes, you, Remus." Dumbledore smiled.

"Dumbledore, I am not a teacher! I'm – I mean – I've never –" Remus took a breath. "I'm not qualified to be a teacher!"

"I would think, Remus, that you are as qualified, if not more so than the average applicant for the position. You have, in fact, aided in the battle against Lord Voldemort and been successful in several dangerous missions. Would you like me to list them for you?"

A stranger interview Remus had not been privy to. He looked at Dumbledore, who met his gaze clearly.

"You know why I cannot more than anyone else," he whispered, his throat tight. "The parents will bring the school down, not to mention what would happen if the Ministry got wind of it."

"The Ministry has no authority over how I staff Hogwarts," replied Dumbledore simply.

"It doesn't change the fact that if parents got wind of a – a werewolf teaching their children," Remus spat, knocking the chair over as he stood up, "endangering their lives every month –"

"But you wouldn't endanger their lives, Remus, if you had Wolfsbane potion."

He froze. "Wolfsbane?"

"You would be perfectly safe if were to have Wolfsbane potion every month. Severus Snape is quite a gifted potioneer, you may recall, and is willing to ensure you have it the preceding week to a full moon."

When Wolfsbane had first been invented less than a decade earlier, he had felt seized of his own salvation. He might finally be able to change his life, if only he were not a danger to wizardkind once a month. He had searched for every bit of information regarding the potion, only to learn how expensive the ingredients were, how woefully difficult it was to brew and how asking these questions raised more questions than he wanted to answer. It had been hard to let go of this – the possibility that each month he wouldn't have to lose his humanity, his essence, but not his memory. This, more than the size of the cottage and his meagre possessions, had highlighted the inevitability of his marginalised life.

Remus shook his head. "I can't…"

"You may choose to tell those you wish, but no one else needs to know." Dumbledore set his cup down on the table.

As he looked at Dumbledore, Remus felt his heart swell painfully in his chest. To have Wolfsbane, to be back at Hogwarts… He jolted.

"Harry is at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore quietly, echoing Remus' thoughts.

James and Lily's son. To see Harry…

"I'll do it," Remus said.

Dumbledore smiled. "Well, we will need to talk about salaries and accommodation, but I am grateful for your acceptance."

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Anya Khare walked slowly downstairs, perusing the Daily Prophet. She had skimmed past the front-page article about Sirius Black's escape (there was no new information), and continued reading about a catastrophic Bundimun outbreak in the Caribbean, requiring large factions of Regulation of Pests to spend weeks trying to Scour them of all habitations.

In the kitchen, she tapped the kettle absently to quiet its screeching "The water is hot! So pour me out, you dingpot!" She poured herself some tea and sipped it slowly as she continued with the Prophet. She read the Muggles would remember the pestilence as a cyclone.

As she was reading about the newest approaches to exotic plant poisonings from St Mungo's, a tawny owl landed on her open kitchen windowsill and hooted softly.

Anya put the paper and teacup down and went to take the letter attached to the owl's leg. The owl fluffed its feathers huffily once the letter had been removed. She reached behind her for a grapefruit she was planning on eating with breakfast and offered a segment to the owl. It nipped it from her hand neatly and took off back through the open window.

The letter was thick and enclosed in a yellow envelope with the Hogwarts' seal securing it. The list of this year's students had arrived, she thought, smiling.

However, the letter this year was different. Scrawled in the familiar emerald green ink, the first page read:

Dear Professor Khare,

Thank you for the prompt return owl pertaining to the set books for the subject of Ancient Runes. It has been conveyed to the students and to all local wizarding bookstores for their purchase.

The subject will be held in the Room of Runes, located on the sixth floor. The rooms adjacent are available as your office.

This school year is also marked, as you know, by the escape of mass murderer, Sirius Black. The unprecedented nature of this has led to additional security measures at Hogwarts. Beyond the increased enchantments, Hogwarts will now be guarded at all entrances and exits by Dementors. Great caution must be taken to not provoke them, and even more so, ensure no wayward student unwittingly falls prey to a Dementor.

The list of forbidden items and activities are enclosed separately. The list of students taking Ancient Runes is also enclosed.

If you have any further questions, please send word. Term begins on 1 September.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGongall

Deputy Headmistress

Normally, Anya would have laughed a little at being addressed as Professor by Minerva McGongall, but the import of the letter could not be overlooked. None of it was unexpected, exactly. Hogsmeade had been overrun by Dementors for the last month, changing the atmosphere inexplicably. Anya was lucky to be living a little away from the main village; it meant that she was not subjected to their presence every moment of the day.

Anya pulled her dressing gown tighter as she looked down at the photo on the front page of the Daily Prophet. The man looked wasted with his skin sagging and his hair hanging limply around his face. His eyes were sunken, but he gazed out of the photo with a ferocity that was discomfiting. Azkaban had not been kind to Sirius Black, but it had clearly not destroyed his sanity. A fearsome sight, indeed.

Anya recalled how Sirius Black had looked in school. He had been several years her senior and in Gryffindor, so they had not crossed paths much, but everyone knew Sirius Black. Handsome and adored with a careless air of those who knew it. There was barely a scrap of that boy left in the gaunt man in the paper. She folded the paper and reached for her letter to see her new classes.

Before she had a chance to see the list of new students, a light appeared. A ball of white light the size of her fist hovered in front of her. Anya frowned and looked around, trying to figure out where it had come from. There seemed to be nothing unusual or different in the room. There was no one outside the window that she could see. She turned back to the light. It continued to hover, warping the air around it slightly.

Anya moved her hand towards it, watching the way it warped the look of her hand. She noticed something: it did not actually cast light about the room or give off heat to her hand. How strange, she thought, bewildered. Suddenly, it began to pulse. Before she could snatch her hand back in shock, it moved towards her. When it touched her hand, it flashed and vanished.

"What on earth was that?" she wondered aloud, checking her hand for any injuries.

Chapter 1

Anya shivered as she walked the streets of Hogsmeade, looking at the Dementors floating around. She had never seen a Dementor until two weeks earlier when they had taken to patrolling the village. She knew of them, of course, and of the effect they were supposed to have. But it was something to hear about them and a whole other to feel the summer August air, the vague despair that stole over her and the dulling of the very colours.

Anya steeled herself to keep walking, focusing on what she would get for lunch. When she reached the Three Broomsticks, she yanked open the door and shut it quickly behind. The smells of the wooden furniture and cooking mingling together to warm as her up. Spotting Rosmerta at the bar, she walked her, smiling.

"Anya! Come, sit, sit," Rosmerta greeted. "What can I get you?"

Climbing onto the bar stool, Anya smiled. "How are you, Ros?"

Rosmerta's smile faded as she looked darkly out the front windows. "I'll be better when those awful creatures leave Hogsmeade and me alone."

"Are they causing you trouble?" she asked, alarmed.

"No more than they do anyone, I imagine," Rosmerta said, still grim as she pulled a bottle of Gillywater from under the bar and began pouring a glass. "It's been foul, not being able to go out with fear of what they might do. Did you hear what happened to Amrose Carbage?"

"No! What happened?" Anya took the glass of Gillywater with a murmur of thanks.

"You know Lucinda had her baby on Saturday? Well, Amrose was going around handing out sweets from Honeydukes when three of them cornered him just off Post Office! By the time anyone came to rescue him, the poor dear was white as a sheet and couldn't even stand!"

"They didn't!" Anya was aghast. "Why? How could they-?" But of course. Mr Carbage had likely been overflowing with joy and they could not resist. She felt nauseated at the thought.

"Is he alright?" she asked Rosmerta.

"Oh, he perked up after some chocolate – some of the stuff he was handing out actually – but he's a bit more edgy about coming outside. Everyone is, really."

Anya pursed her lips. "I hope they catch Sirius Black soon."

Rosmerta looked at her and nodded. "I'll get you a meat pie and some cobbler, shall I?"

Anya thanked her and gazed distractedly around, wondering when this would end. When Rosmerta came back out with the food, Anya smiled. "Have you eaten? Would you join me?"

Rosmerta smiled. "Don't you have to be working on your classes?"

"I do." She grinned back. "So, I would much rather sit down for lunch with you for a bit, Ros."

Rosmerta laughed and waved her wand. After a few moments, a plate laden with food floated out to them. It hovered in from of Rosmerta for a moment before settling down. Another wave and a glass of pumpkin juice followed suit.

They sat and chatted through the meal about more inconsequential things.

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The last time he had been in Kings Cross Station, Remus had just achieved majority and leaving Hogwarts for the last time. He had been excited and privileged to be recruited by Dumbledore himself for the Order of the Phoenix as Lord Voldemort had ascended power. It had been grim times, but he had a purpose and he had his friends. For Remus, continued time with his friends was a relief and an unexpected blessing. It felt similarly bittersweet today, about to take the Hogwarts Express, to see Hogwarts once again, but without his friends. Without anyone else, really.

He had little time to dwell on this, however. He climbed aboard the train, found a compartment at the rear and placed his trunk above him. The effects of the Wolfsbane Potion and of the impending full moon were wearying him. Snape had sent phials of the potion each day for this week, which he had drunk gratefully. He sat by the window, looking at the empty platform for no more than a second before he had fallen asleep.

He dreamed of vague forests, sweet honey, thunder of hooves and the feel of snow. He walked through his childhood room set with bright colours. He was climbing into the child's bed, pulling the covers over him. He looked at his hands, large with long fingers. There was something odd about this. He felt a sense of trepidation and he knew. This was not real, he thought, trying to force himself to remember. He spun to the window and heard the panting breath beyond. A clawed hand came into view and he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The hand reached for the latch, undid it and pushed the window open.

Remus wrenched himself awake, heart thundering, breath heaving. He thought, at first, that the noise in the compartment woke him. It had filled with students while he slept. But then he felt the chill and saw that it was almost complete darkness. He heard the rattling breath and realised that Dementors had boarded the train.

"Quiet!" he snapped, standing up. He conjured bell-blue flames. The students felt it, too. They became quiet, watched the compartment door open. Some of them started whimpering, another collapsed on the ground. All the while, Remus only saw the rotting hand of the Dementor reaching for them.

Disgusted and furious, he drew his wand. "None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Leave. At once."

But the Dementor did not turn away. Expecto Patronum, he thought, holding on the feeling from the platform. Silver mist shot out the end of his wand and repelled the Dementor. He continued forward, stepping over the boy on the floor. He allowed the incorporeal Patronus to chase the remainder of the Patronuses out the train.

He turned back to the compartment to see how the boy on the floor was doing. His stomach dropped. He almost stumbled with the disorientation. He looks just like him, he thought, reeling. His face looked bloodless and waxy from sweat, but it was James' face. He even had glasses.

A boy and girl had already knelt beside him and were trying to wake him. Harry let out a soft moan before opening his eyes. Remus was a bit more prepared for the jolt of seeing green eyes. The boy and girl pulled him up into his seat.

"Are you OK?" asked the boy, hands trembling.

"Yeah," said Harry. His voice was softer and rougher than James'. "What happened? Where's that – that thing? Who screamed?"

Remus stepped past them to his trunk. He rummaged through it and found the chocolate he had stowed for any meetings with Dementors. The only other girl in the compartment huddled in a corner, her eyes glassy and her lip trembling.

"But I heard screaming-" Harry murmured.

Remus broke the chocolate up, startling his companions. He handed a large piece to Harry, smiling.

"Here. Eat this. It'll help."

Harry looked at him, still pale and clammy. "What was that thing?"

He handed pieces to the other students. "A Dementor. One of the Dementors of Azkaban."

Remus walked to the door, looking at their young faces. "Eat. It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me."

He took a breath on leaving the compartment to slow his heart. It was astounding how similar they looked and how much it hurt to remember James' face, to remember James. He walked up the length of the train, peering into compartments on his way to check the students were whole, if a bit shaken.

The control room with the driver was at the front of the train. It was mostly windows, but what he could see of the walls were scarlet like the engine. On closer inspection, the windows did not show the landscape directly outside. The side windows changed their scapes to show different views around the train. The front window showed the castle closer than it should be from this distance. There were numerous controls, watches that showed the star alignment and a variety of colourful buttons.

The driver looked grim, as he started up the train.

"What happened?" he asked the driver quietly. "Why did they come aboard?"

"Ministry officials stopped the train and let them board. They said it needed to be searched for Sirius Black."

Remus nodded. He had surmised as much.

"I wondered if I may borrow an owl. I would like to send word up to the school."

"You can use one of the student's owls," the driver grunted, jerking his head at some cages outside the control room. "They're headed up to the castle, anyway. Here's some parchment and a quill."

"Thank you," he replied, taking them from him. He scribbled a quick note to Professor McGonagall:

Minerva,

The train was set upon at Hogsmeade and searched by Dementors. It appears they were acting on the orders of Ministry officials. Harry Potter has reacted poorly to them and may need further care on arrival. The rest of the students appear to be well enough.

Yours

Remus

He sealed the note with a charm, selected a simple brown owl. He attached the letter and released it out the window. McGonagall would convey the details to Professor Dumbledore discreetly.

There were more students out in the corridor. He stopped a few of the Prefects along the way and explained briefly what had happened and suggested they advise the students to get ready. They seemed relieved to have instruction.

When he arrived at his compartment, they all looked exactly as he had left them, as if statues.

"I haven't poisoned the chocolate, you know," he said, smiling. He watched as Harry glanced at the chocolate in his hand and took a bite. He could see the difference it made: the colour returning to his cheeks, his eyes clearing a little and his posture relaxing a little.

"We will be at Hogwarts in ten minutes. Are you all right, Harry?" Remus asked.

Harry looked embarrassed and met his gaze briefly. "Fine."

Remus tried hard not to stare and not to compare every movement with his memory of James. The students ate the chocolate in silence. Harry remained reserved and embarrassed through the remainder of the journey.

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Anya sat at the staff table, happy to be back at school. The start of term feast was always delicious, surrounded by people, who were happy to see each other after a long break. She chatted with Aurora Sinistra, who fittingly taught Astronomy.

"Every year, I think the Sorting will be tedious," Anya said, spooning more roast beef onto her plate. "But I find I am entertained by the drama of it all. The song, the terror of each student, the theatrical pause and the final decision. Do you wish you had been Sorted?"

"The House affiliations is something I wish I had been a part of. Though I was afforded many benefits of living in the country and being schooled at home." Aurora made steady headway through her soup. "The House competition is less congenial than perhaps it should be."

Anya nodded, laughing. "I agree! To Sort so young when they are still figuring things out and so shaped by their peers. Particularly because even the Hat suggests that there is more than one affiliation possible. I was Sorted into Hufflepuff, and I loved it, but I wonder sometimes."

Anya turned to her left, noticing that Remus Lupin was no longer engaged in conversation with Professor Flitwick. She smiled when he looked at her. "What do you think?"

"The Sorting Hat also suggested that I might do well in Hufflepuff," Remus replied. "Perhaps I would have done well there with the different influences."

Anya narrowed her eyes, still smiling. "But you are glad that you were Sorted into Gryffindor."

Remus looked more closely at her, turning slightly. "Yes, I am. How did you know to which House I was Sorted?"

"I was at Hogwarts back then, too," she replied, leaning conspiratorially to Aurora to include her.

"Ah, it is terrible of me not to recall you when clearly you remember me," he said, a little surprised.

"I don't blame you. I can't claim to recall my all juniors when I was sixteen, particularly from another House." Anya laughed and extended her hand. "I am Anya Khare."

He smiled and took it in his. "Remus Lupin. But you know."

"I do," she grinned.

She leaned back to allow Remus and Aurora to shake hands and introduce themselves.

"What subjects do you teach?"

"The Study of Ancient Runes."

"Astronomy."

"A lot of late nights for you," Remus said.

"I don't mind it so. I am used to it and enjoy the subject immensely."

Aurora was drawn into conversation with Hagrid at this point, leaving Remus and Anya to make small talk. He was a softly spoken, serious man; his face did not look prone to smiling. She knew he was only five years her senior, but he appeared older. Whether this was because he appeared exhausted or because his hair was prematurely greying and his face lined, Anya was not sure. Prior to the pudding course, however, Remus excused himself from the meal.

"I am sorry, but I am feeling my best and should take myself to bed," he said.

Anya felt slightly disappointed, but he was right. He looked awful: he almost looked to be greying before her very eyes.

"Will you be alright? Do you want me to get Madam Pompfrey? She's the school nurse and quite good at most remedies."

"Not at all. I will be better once I have slept. Don't trouble yourself on my account. It was a pleasure to meet you, Professor Khare."

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Professor Lupin. I hope it is as wonderful as your schooling years."

Remus did not say anything but nodded after a moment. He left discreetly through the anteroom behind the staff table.