CHAPTER TWENTY: Remus' Gift

The first part of May, Western Montana was just beginning to burst from the grip of the long, cold winter. Missoula lay in a wide valley, nestled in the Rocky Mountains on the Eastern edge of the Bitterroot range. Large patches of snow still covered the ground in town and clung to the high mountain peaks in every direction. But the crocuses and tulips were bursting from the earth, and the sun shone from clear blue skies almost daily.

Roxanne waited , sitting on the steps of her nephew's school, for Nicholas to come out at the end of the day. Lacey, her niece, played on the grass nearby. Angela worked, and had gratefully accepted when Roxanne offered to take care of them while she was gone. It seemed Allan had spent away much of the cash inheritance he'd received, and the struggle to support two households left them both short on money. Childcare expenses were high, as were all of Angela's bills. Roxanne insisted on buying the groceries and paying some rent (to the tune of $5000 dollars slipped furtively into Angela's checking account).

The bell rang loudly, and children spilled out the doors. Roxanne collected Lacey from the grass to keep her from being trampled, and watched for Nick's small figure. As usual, he was one of the last ones out, walking slowly, alone, his head hanging, his backpack hanging precariously from one shoulder.

"Hey, buddy!" Roxanne called brightly. "How was school today?"

"OK, I guess," he said lamely. "I'm glad it's over."

'This little boy carries a lot of weight on those six-year-old shoulders,' Roxanne thought, looking at him carefully. "Don't you like school, Nick?" she asked.

"No," he said flatly.

"Why not?"

"I don't have any friends. They all think I'm weird," he said sadly, taking her hand and walking along with her towards home.

"Weird how?" Roxanne asked slowly.

"I don't know. They just don't like to play with me."

Roxanne knew that noncommittal answer well. She'd uttered it herself as a six-year-old. Her mother had taken her home, sat her on her lap and hugged her. "I'll always like playing with you," she'd said. And she'd kept saying that for four more years, always seeming to make the world livable for at least one more day, as Roxanne's sense of not belonging grew year after year. There was something about Nick. She wondered if she was seeing the same traits her father had recognized in her so long ago. She'd not seen many small wizard children. She imagined most of them fit quite nicely into their wizard families and communities. They probably had little wizard friends to play dueling with, waving sticks around like wands and pretending to fly on make-believe broomsticks just as muggle children played cowboys and Indians or house.

"Nick," she asked, "does anything strange happen sometimes when you're really mad or frightened?"

Nick stopped dead, his eyes growing wide as saucers. He nodded slowly. "How did you know?" he whispered. "I haven't even told my mommy."

"I see. The same kinds of things happened to me when I was a kid," she said.

Unbelievably, Nick's eyes grew even wider and his mouth fell open. "What did you do?"

"I told my mommy. She didn't really understand. I think she thought I was making up stories. But she always helped make me feel better about being different." Roxanne looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "I tell you what," she finally said, "I'll talk to your mommy about it and we'll see what we can do for you. OK?"

"I don't want my mommy to think I'm lying," he said, big tears welling in his eyes.

"Don't worry about that. She'll believe you after I've talked to her." Roxanne squeezed his hand and they walked on, Nick skipping lightly along the way.

**********

Angela came home late that evening after calling Roxanne to ask if it was all right for her to stay and catch up on some things. She and the kids had eaten a frozen pizza for dinner and when Angela came in she found the Lacey and Nick watching a video and Roxanne lying exhausted on the couch.

"I'm so sorry, Roxanne. I didn't realize I'd be quite so late. Did they completely wear you down?"

Roxanne sat up, smiling. "No, I've just been tired lately, not feeling very well. I'm sure it's nothing."

But Angela's brow furrowed and she looked at her curiously, but said nothing in front of the children, who ran to their mother and threw their arms around her neck. She strained and picked them both up, nuzzling them contentedly. "I'm so happy to see you two! But it's time you were in bed."

Both children complained, begging to stay up just a little while longer. But their mother was firm and with Roxanne's help they were soon in pajamas and brushing their teeth, then being tucked into bed and listening to a bedtime story. Lacey was fast asleep before Little Red Riding Hood made it to Grandmother's house. Nick looked drowsily at Roxanne who gave him the thumbs up and followed Angela to the kitchen.

"Sit down," Angela said. "I'll make you some hot chocolate."

Roxanne did as she said, working through her mind how to present Nick's problem to Angela. But Angela spoke first.

"Roxanne, could you be pregnant?"

"What!? No." But she paused, remembering Remus' words. He'd left her something. But the timing was wrong. It seemed impossible. "I can't be," she whispered. "I don't think."

Angela came over, looking at her face, and placed the cup of cocoa on the table. "I'll pick up a test on the way home from work tomorrow."

Roxanne nodded numbly, her errand momentarily forgotten, and sipped at the hot chocolate. Her mind raced. What would she do? Where would she go? Would Dumbledore take her back? She couldn't stay with the Weasleys-the Burrow was gone and they were staying at Hogwarts now anyway. And Sirius- he'd think he'd have to keep an eye on her, on the baby. He didn't need any more burdens to carry.

Angela brought her back to the moment. "You wanted to talk to me about something," she said.

Roxanne sighed, adjusting her thoughts, working to focus on little Nick again. "Yes. It's Nick. He's not liking school very much."

"I know," said Angel, her face clouding. "I've talked to his teacher. She doesn't know what to do with him. She says he's anti-social-even recommended I take him to a shrink. I don't have the money for that. I'm worried about him, but working so much I just don't know what to do."

"Don't take him to a shrink," said Roxanne. "I think I can help, but you're going to have to change everything you believe."

Angela looked at her with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

"He's just like me when I was kid. Just like his grandpa Lorenzo. Do you remember that trunk he left me, when he died?"

Angela nodded slowly.

"It was full of some of the strangest things. He left me a letter too. It explained everything. Maybe I should just let you read it." Roxanne rose and went to her room, coming back with her shoulder bag, her wand sticking up out of the top. She removed Lorenzo's letter and handed it to Angela, then sat down and waited for her to read.

"A wizard?" she laughed mockingly. "I knew the old man was a little strange, but he believed he was a wizard? Roxanne, what does this have to do with Nick."

"Finish the letter, then I'll show you."

Angela read on, sniffing mockingly at the words. Finished, she threw the letter on the table in front of Roxanne. "Do you really expect me to believe-" But Roxanne had drawn her wand from her bag, along with one of her books-"A History of Magic"-and pointing the wand at the cover whispered "Engorgio." The book instantly grew to its normal size. Angela started, gripping the edge of the table and gasping. Roxanne opened the book to Chapter 18, turned the book around and pointed to the page. Angela saw the heading "The Establishment of Wizard Education" and a picture of a large, majestic castle. It took her a few moments to realize that the flags on the towers were waving and that tiny figures could be seen moving about on the grounds.

"That's Hogwarts. It's where I've been all this time. I'm learning all sorts of things. I've even learned how to transform myself into a falcon."

Angela looked at her, still skeptical. "How is it that there is this huge castle and I've-we've never heard anything about it?"

"Magic, Angela. It's covered with spells and enchantments. A muggle would come upon Hogwarts and see some ruins with danger signs posted all around, or a muddy, smelly marsh. We have laws to protect the muggles from finding out about us. There's even an American Magic Council and a school here-in Virginia, if I remember correctly."

"What exactly is a muggle?" Angela asked, her eyes now wide with wonder and a trace of fear.

"Non-magic people," Roxanne explained.

"And what does all this have to do with Nick?"

"He's a wizard, too. I'm almost certain. He doesn't need counseling, he needs to be among his own kind-where he'll fit in," Roxanne explained.

"Are you suggesting that I let you take my little boy with you to England?" hissed Angela.

"No!" said Roxanne, "Nothing like that-at least not yet. He won't get his letter until he's eleven. He can choose Hogwarts or Hawthorne-or you can choose not to give him the letter."

Angela dropped her head into her hands. "Allan would never agree to anything like this. Oh, Roxanne! I'll believe anything if it'll help make Nick happy, but Allan-"

"We have five years yet to figure it out," Roxanne soothed. "Until then, just do your best. Nick'll be all right-especially after we tell him."

"We can't tell him-he's just a little boy-"

"Angela, he needs hope," Roxanne said. "Give him that much right now and he'll be a different kid. When it's time we'll figure something out-even if I have to come back here and teach him myself."

Angela sat, motionless, staring at the castle, then thumbed through the book, looking incredulously at the moving pictures inside. She looked at Roxanne's wand, then at Roxanne. "Show me more," she said.

For the next hour, Roxanne filled the house with bursts of light and dazzling displays of magic-levitating the kids' toys into their toy boxes, turning lights on and off, transforming wooden skewers into a dozen yellow roses (Angela's favorite color), and finally transforming into a falcon for her. But the transformation felt odd, as if part of her refused to transform completely, though she looked exactly as she should.

"You're husband," Angela asked, "was a wizard too?"

Roxanne nodded. "He was a good man, Angela. You'd have a hard time finding better-anywhere."

Roxanne fell into bed late, exhausted and full of uncertainty, crying herself quietly to sleep.

**********

Angela came home early the next day, a small paper sack in her hand, which she handed to Roxanne before greeting the children. Allan would be coming in a few hours to pick them up for the weekend. Roxanne had them bathed and packed so Angela could spend a little time with them before they left. She left them alone and went into the bathroom, the sack clutched tightly in her hand.

A few minutes later, she came out, pale and silent. Angela looked at her, the question in her eyes. Roxanne nodded twice, a trembling smile on her face, but worry in her eyes. They said nothing to the children. Dumbledore would want to know-it could wait until after Allan was gone.

"Why don't you go lie down for awhile," suggested Angela.

Roxanne nodded and shut herself in her room, undressing and slipping under the covers.

She woke suddenly, unsure what time it was, but she heard shouting from the front room. Allan. He was shouting at Angela who was trying to get him to lower his voice in front of the children.

"I want her out of here and away from my kids, Angela!" He yelled so loudly Roxanne could clearly hear his every word through the closed door.

Angela quietly mumbled something, her voice angry but subdued. The children whimpered, Nick pleading with his daddy. Roxanne jumped out of bed and dressed quickly, rushing out to confront her pig of a brother.

"Allan, lay off!" she shouted, coming swiftly down the hall.

He charged at her, grabbing her arms tightly, his fingers digging into her skin. "What are you doing here, Roxanne! We don't want you here!"

"I want her here, Daddy," whimpered Nick, crying.

Allan ignored him, snarling instead to his sister, "You're a drunk and a loser and I don't want you near my children! Get out, now!"

Roxanne glared at him, struggling to free her arms. "I'm not a drunk, Allan. I'm clean. I swear it on our mother's grave."

"But you managed to get yourself knocked up!" he yelled. "Are you going to bring some low-life bum into this house to molest my kids and live off Angela's alimony?!"

"He was my husband, and he's dead, and if you ever imply that he was anything like you again-"

Allan smacked her with the back of his hand, splitting her lip and sending her reeling onto the floor. Allan spotted a section of her back as she fell, saw the thin black lines there and came at her again, pinning her down with his legs and pulling her shirt up. Angela gasped at the sight of the huge black scar, the evil-looking Dark Mark that filled her with a dread she did not understand. Allan leapt up, filled with loathing.

"What are you into, Roxanne? What kind of sick life have you gotten involved in?" he hissed.

Roxanne sat up, dabbing gingerly at her mouth. Allan could see the shame in her eyes. Angela knelt by her, looking at the cut, cursing under her breath. "Allan," she spat, "leave now or-"

"Or what?" he growled.

"-or I'll call the police."

"Daddy, please. Let's go," said Nick, tugging at his sleeve. Allan swore at them both, grabbed Nick's hand and scooped up Lacey before storming out the door.

"I'll pack my things," said Roxanne rising slowly.

Angela grabbed her hand and pulled her to the floor again. "Is that what you want to give my son?" she said, hurt and angry.

"If all goes well Nick will never have to see that mark again," Roxanne said quietly.

Angela stared at her sternly, waiting for an explanation.

"It's called the Dark Mark. It's the symbol of a dark wizard named Voldemort," said Roxanne. "He's the wizard equivalent of Stalin or Hitler- but with a power you can't even imagine."

"And you're one of his followers?" Angela said sourly.

"No! I'm working with the other side. We're trying to defea-"

"Then how did you get that mark?" said Angela, trying hard to believe.

Roxanne hung her head, the memories flooding back. "Voldemort's followers captured me. They tortured me and-they did this." Roxanne lifted her shirt, turning for Angela to see the entire mark, the scars, the thin black lines. "It was a message-a declaration of war. They left me in the forest to die. They knew my body would be found and that the message would be clear."

Angela sat in stunned silence as Roxanne lowered her shirt.

"I'm sorry. I guess I should have told you before I came. But I swear-I swear on my oath to Remus that I'm on the right side this time," Roxanne explained, pleading in her eyes.

"You said IF all goes well," said Angela. "What if it doesn't."

Roxanne sighed. "Then the entire world will eventually know the Dark Mark and what it stands for," she said ominously. "If Voldemort conquers the wizard world, there will be nothing to protect the muggles from him."

**********

(Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I'm ready to come home. I have Remus' gift, but I don't know how best to get it there. Is floo powder harmful to a pregnancy? Please advise.

R. Lupin)

**********

Late Sunday Angela lay reading. Roxanne had gone to bed a little while ago. The children were home and asleep now. She'd met Allan at the driveway, seeing him off without allowing him into the house. A loud knock on the front door startled her from her book and she looked at the clock- 10:40. Late for visitors. She cringed, thinking it might be Allan back for another attack on his sister. Her conversation with Roxanne the other night left her spooked and she stood and paced quietly to the kitchen where she found a large butcher knife. She grasped the handle tightly and crept to the door, looking out the peephole. She saw a man there, dressed all in black, bobbing on his toes agitatedly.

"What do you want?" Angela called through the door.

"Mrs. Stewart, my name is Sirius Black. I'm a friend of Roxanne's. May I see her?" he called back in a crisp English accent.

Angela thought for a moment of telling him that Roxanne had gone away, but as her panic subsided a little and she began to think more clearly, she realized that an evil wizard probably wouldn't be polite enough to knock.

"Just a minute," she called. "I'll see if she wants to see you."

She reached Roxanne's door, realized she still had the knife clutched in her hand and hurriedly took it to the kitchen before knocking, opening the door and calling softly until Roxanne stirred. She explained about the man at the door, describing him, as Roxanne fought to clear the sleep from her mind.

"Sirius? He's here? Now?" She flung the covers aside and sprang out of bed, not bothering with a robe or slippers. She rushed to the door, Angela close behind and threw it open. Sirius swept in, taking her by the arms, looking into her eyes.

"Are you sure?" he said urgently. "Are you really-"

She nodded, a smile at her lips, sorrow in her eyes.

"Dumbledore's worried about you," he said taking her in his arms. "He wants you home as soon as possible. He's sent a portkey with me." He pulled an old leather shoelace from his pocket.

Roxanne needed to gather her things and say goodbye. Sirius helped her, doting on her, asking how she felt, ignoring Angela altogether even after Roxanne's introduction.

She went to the children's rooms. Lacey refused to wake, so Roxanne kissed her cheek and tucked the blankets affectionately around her chin. Nick, though, was wide awake when she came in , followed by Sirius. Nick's eyes grew wide.

"Is he a real wizard, Aunt Roxanne?"

"He is. This is my friend Sirius."

Black stepped forward and shook the boy's hand, looking quizzically at Roxanne.

"You take good care of your mom," she said, stroking his hair. Nick nodded. "Do you remember how to reach me?" she asked.

He nodded again.

"And remember. Keep it in here," she said pointing to his forehead.

"I promise," he said, reaching out to give her a hug. She tucked him in again.

"I'll see you again, soon, I hope," she whispered as she switched off the light.

**********

It was early morning of the next day in Hogsmeade when Sirius and Roxanne transported out of Montana a little before midnight. They walked back toward the castle, Roxanne smiling and sighing at the sight of Hogwarts' towers rising over the hills.

"Madame Pomfrey says your perfectly safe using floo powder or portkeys, or apparating-we might have to hurry that skill along a bit," said Sirius as he strolled along, carrying her bag. "You're not to transform. There's no telling what it might do to the baby, or you, especially later on."

Roxanne stopped, her face blanching a little. "I transformed two days ago," she said slowly.

Sirius' face turned grim. "We'd better have Madame Pomfrey take a look then-right away."

But Madame Pomfrey was waiting for them on the front steps. She scooted Roxanne to her room, listening glumly as Sirius explained about the transformation. At the door Madame Pomfrey shooed Sirius away, swept Roxanne inside and helped her into some pajamas and then into bed. Roxanne was growing very tired. After three weeks she was well acclimated to Montana time, and she should be long asleep by now.

Molly Weasley came in then, as Madame Pomfrey poked and prodded, asking Roxanne questions about her health. "Nausea? Vomiting? Headaches? Fatigue? Are you eating well?" At Madame Pomfrey's bidding, Mrs. Weasley handed her a small blue marble suspended on the end of a gold chain. She then sat beside Roxanne and took her hand warmly, smiling, as Madame Pomfrey held the chain at the end farthest from the marble and suspended it magically over Roxanne's belly. She stepped back and watched carefully.

The marble began to circle slowly clockwise, the circle widening, the marble glinting in the light, until Madame Pomfrey was satisfied. She reached out and stopped the marble with her hand, held it still for a moment, then released it again. This time the marble began to swing from side to side in longer and longer strokes until Madame Pomfrey snatched it from the air, looked closely at it for a moment, then handed it back to Molly. Mrs. Weasley beamed, but said nothing.

"It seems, Mrs. Lupin, that the muggles have indeed come up with an accurate pregnancy test-and that your transformation caused no harm. You are expecting. You're son will be born sometime the middle of January. I'll make up a list of potions and ingredients you should avoid, and some you may find helpful."

"Son?" said Roxanne. "Are you sure?"

Madame Pomfrey threw her a withering look. "Of course I'm sure. I am never wrong, am I Molly."

Mrs. Weasley smiled broadly. "Poppy was my midwife before she came to work at Hogwarts. She never missed one-except Fred. She hadn't figured on two of them." Her eyes twinkled, tearing just a little. "Glad to be home?" she asked, tucking the covers up around Roxanne's shoulders.

Roxanne nodded, snuggling into the warm sheets. "Thank you Molly. And-I'm sorry about Charlie."

Molly smiled wearily. "And I'm sorry about Remus," she said quietly.

Madame Pomfrey pulled the curtains closed, blocking out the morning sun, and put out the lights before walking out, arm in arm with Mrs. Weasley. They left Roxanne alone with one of the most frightening thoughts she'd ever known-motherhood.

**********

At breakfast the next day Professor Dumbledore announced the resumption of potions classes. A smattering of groans, mixed with a few cheers, erupted from the house tables. It seemed pointless to Roxanne to pick up potions again with only 6 weeks of term remaining, but Dumbledore had stressed to her that the 6th and 7th years would need a great deal of catching up if they were to pass the potions sections of their NEWTS and OWLS-now only four weeks away.

Roxanne no longer rose early. Instead, she slept long into the morning, often hurrying to wolf down an unsettled breakfast before rushing to beat her students to class. She grew more tired and cranky with each passing day, snapping at students for minor errors and piling on homework in her haste to get them caught up. Neville Longbottom began avoiding her as earnestly as he had Professor Snape, despite the pleasant tutoring sessions he'd had with Roxanne earlier in the year.

Her moodiness finally became too much for everyone when she got into a shouting match at the breakfast table with Professor Trelawney-all over a pitcher of orange juice. Dumbledore stood and announced that the first potions class would be cancelled (cheers erupted from the second-years) and motioned for Roxanne to follow him. He escorted her to the Hospital wing where he sat her on a bed then pulled a stool up to sit before her.

She burst into a hysterical fit of tears. "I'm s-sorry Professor! I'm just so t-tired! And I-I'm worried about the exams! And I have no idea how to change diapers or-or make chicken soup! And I'm afraid!"

"Afraid? Of what?" he said, listening sympathetically to her disorganized tirade.

"I'm afraid of being alone-of doing this by myself. I'm afraid-" She stopped, thinking hard, looking away from Dumbledore's penetrating gaze.

"What is it Roxanne?" he said soothingly.

"Will my baby be-will he be like Remus?"

"A werewolf? You haven't read up on this?"

"I don't remember coming across anything about this before. And I haven't had time to do any extra reading." She yawned. "I'm barely able to make it through classes-I'm late every morning and by dinnertime I'm so tired I can barely keep my head out of my plate."

The Headmaster patted her knee. "No. He will not be a werewolf," he assured her. "Unless he was conceived under a full moon."

Roxanne shook her head and sighed. "I feel like I'm being disloyal to Remus for being happy about that."

"Nonsense!" blustered Dumbledore. "Remus would not want his son to live with the agony he endured throughout his life-nor his wife to endure the heartache his mother suffered for him."

Roxanne nodded, yawning again.

"As for being alone-you are not alone," he said, his eyes twinkling encouragingly. " Your family is here for you, all around you. Your child will have aunts, uncles, cousins-as well as a foolish old grandfather-to help care for him and his mother. I'm afraid I can't be much help with chicken soup. You'll have to ask Molly about that. But I've done a fair bit of diapering in my day."

Madame Pomfrey came from her office and helped ease Roxanne onto the pillows. She protested, mumbling about her classes being too far behind.

"I'll see to your classes today," Dumbledore assured her. "But I expect to see you bright and early for breakfast tomorrow. I daresay by then you'll be feeling much better." He nodded to Madame Pomfrey who gave Roxanne a mild, sweet tasting potion before walking with the Headmaster to the exit. Roxanne was fast asleep before he was out of the room.

**********

No one complained when they found Dumbledore instead of Roxanne sitting at the potions master's desk that day. Only three fifth years asked after her- Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Dumbledore explained that she was resting today, but would be back tomorrow. Hermione, concern in her voice, asked if there was anything they could do to help.

"I'm glad you asked, Miss Granger," said the Headmaster pleasantly. "Actually, there are a few potions that may be of some help to Mrs. Lupin. Perhaps you would like to make them for her."

Hermione, to the groans of many, gladly accepted and took charge of organizing the class into small groups, each assigned to a different potion- one for morning sickness, one for fatigue, one for clarifying the mind. Hermione carefully monitored Neville's progress. Fortunately there were no Slytherin's in class to sabotage the potions-only Neville's clumsiness.

The Headmaster delivered the potions to Roxanne himself after classes. She smiled gratefully and asked him to thank the students.

"Thank them yourself-you'll be back on your feet tomorrow."

And she certainly was. She rose early the next morning, feeling refreshed, restless, and hungry. Roxanne pushed her students hard as the weeks flew by, the exams just around the corner now. Her belly, though not obviously larger, felt full and tight and she began to grow very conscious of her tightening waste bands. A visit to Madam Malkin's would have to wait until after the end of term, though. In the meantime, she switched from jeans to sweatpants and kept her robes fastened at the front.

With one week to go before exams, she holed up after classes in the staffroom, feet propped up, in front of the windows, grading papers. She learned a great deal from the many expertly written 6th and 7th year scrolls. None fell short of her expectations. Most had done well enough on their NEWTS and OWLS to at least pass-even if their potions grades were not as high as Roxanne would have liked. Professor McGonagall found her there and cleared her throat quietly to attract Roxanne's attention.

"I'm sorry to disturb you Roxanne. The Headmaster would like to see you in his office."

She shrugged and laid the pile of papers on the table beside her chair. "Thank you, Professor."

**********

She found Professor Dumbledore sitting serenely behind his desk. He smiled when she came in. "Roxanne, I would like you to meet Mr. Uberhalz," he said pointing to a short, stocky man with the same gaunt grayness she'd known well in Remus' features. "He is visiting with me as a representative of the werewolves. He wanted to meet you."

Roxanne stepped forward and extended her hand. Uberhalz looked at her. He did not recognize any hint of distaste or prejudice in her eyes as she looked steadily at him, waiting for him to return her gesture. He took her hand and shook it firmly.

"Forgive my interrupting your studies," he said politely, with a heavy German accent. "I'm anxious to see for myself the kind of woman who would willingly bind herself to a werewolf. Unfortunately, people of your ilk are rare."

"I married Remus because I loved him, Mr. Uberhalz. Not because he was a werewolf," she responded.

"Did you know about him before you loved him?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Most would not have continued a relationship beyond that point. Many would have run screaming from him," he said bitterly.

"Remus never gave me any reason to fear him. Perhaps if all werewolves were more like him, no one would have cause to fear." Roxanne's eyes were clear, her manner confident, her point well made.

"Perhaps you don't understand the history of the werewolves," said Uberhalz, a note of irritation in his voice, "and the persecution we have suffered throughout the centuries."

"I've read my history," she said calmly. "I know all about that. But at what point in history did a hard life make a good excuse for making wrong choices? Remus certainly didn't let his past, or his own persecution, steer him toward evil. He held fast to what he knew was right-simply because it was just that. It was right."

Dumbledore did not interrupt, but sat back, his eyes twinkling, watching over the top of his spectacles.

"You're here representing the werewolves?" she asked. "So what have you decided. Are you with us or not?"

"I cannot speak for all of us, Mrs. Lupin-"

"Then why are you here? Where I come from a representative speaks for his people. If you can't do that there's no point in your wasting our time," she said, nodding toward the Headmaster. Uberhalz narrowed his eyes, glaring at her, but remained silent.

"I have papers to grade. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Uberhalz," she said, shaking his hand again before striding out, her robes swinging behind her as she disappeared down the spiral staircase.

"She can be quite a burr under one's saddle sometimes," commented the Headmaster, his eyes sparking delightedly. "But she made some very good points. Don't you agree?"

Uberhalz's aggravated expression softened a little. "Are all Americans like her?" he grumbled.

"Certainly not. Just as all werewolves are not like Remus Lupin. But perhaps more of you should be."

Uberhalz sagged a bit in his chair. He nodded gravely. "Perhaps we should," he said.