"Professor," Remus asked Dumbledore thoughtfully, "does the Ministry make it a practice to hire owls with exceptionally bad aim?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he munched a bit of toast. "Never having worked at the Ministry," he replied, "I am not quite sure. However, I suspect something along those lines must have been in order."

"Sounds like one of those fool laws my father would try and push through," Aemilia muttered, viciously attacking her boiled egg.

Remus pulled the letter out of a pitcher of pumpkin juice and slit it open with his thumb.

Dear Mr. Lupin,

This communication is to inform you of your annual licence renewal. You will be expected at the Ministry of Magic at 9:30am on July 30.

Failure to keep this appointment will lead to the dispatch of a member of the Committee For The Disposal Of Dangerous Creatures.

Sincerely,

Alfred Humbert

Werewolf Registry Office

"What does it say?" Aemilia asked.

Remus thrust the letter into her hands with a snort. "Bloody Umbridge."

Aemilia skimmed the letter. "She drafted the law that made the licence annual instead of centennial, didn't she?"

"Yes," Remus replied shortly. "One of about seventy million anti-werewolf laws she drafted which make it just about impossible for me to get a job." Thank Merlin for St. Mungo's, he thought.

"But… money shouldn't really be an issue for you now, should it?" Aemilia asked.

Remus looked at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Well… you just inherited rather a lot of it, didn't you?"

Remus sighed. "That," he told her, "is money I will not spend until I am starving on the street."

"Why?"

"All my life I've had to rely on charity from other people," Remus replied bitterly. "First my father - but then when he died and my mother got admitted to St. Mungo's, I was relying on James and Lily. Oh, they'd tell me and I'd tell myself that it was just till I got a steady job… but finding a steady job was not an easy task. Then, after they died and Sirius got sent to Azkaban, I depended on my inheritance from my father. After that ran out… that's when I accepted the Hogwarts job. Then for the last two years I've been sponging off Sirius and the Order." He swallowed. "Using Sirius's money would just be me accepting more charity, and I don't want to do that. I want to make my own way, support myself, not always be dependant on everyone around me."

Aemilia had a concerned look on her face. "Oh Remus, I'm sorry."

"Why? It's not your fault," he told her, forcing himself to smile. "I have an income now, albeit a small one. I have enough to live on, despite Umbridge and her laws."

"When is your licence renewal, Remus?" Dumbledore asked.

Remus looked at the letter. "July 30 - that's tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Short notice," Aemilia muttered. "Stupid father. Stupid bureaucracy."

"Well, I had intended to go into London at some stage anyway," Remus said, sighing. "I need to get Harry a birthday present. Gives me an excuse."

"Can I come?"

Remus looked at Aemilia questioningly. "Why?"

Aemilia shrugged. "Some of the Ministry records could be useful for the lawsuit. And I wouldn't mind going shopping myself. I need new robes."

"Just promise me one thing," Remus told her.

"What?"

"No shoe shops. Please. I will shop for robes with you, for obscure potions ingredients or codices or anything you please - but please, don't make me go shoe-shopping with you again. I still have nightmares about it."

Aemilia laughed. "Done."

*

"In you go."

"You're such a gentleman, Remus," Aemilia laughed as he held the door of the telephone box open for her.

He tipped his hat. "I like to think so," he said, winking and shutting the door behind him. "Six… two… four… four… two," he muttered as he dialled the number over her head.

"Do you come in the visitor's entrance often then?" Aemilia asked.

He smiled. "Well, considering every time I've been to the Ministry of Magic I've been a visitor - yes, I use it often." Every time but one, he thought, and a vision of Sirius falling through the veil came into his head.

He forced it away as a cool female voice began to speak. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. State your name and your business, please."

"Aemilia Fudge, International Magical Office of Law," Aemilia said. "I work here."

"Remus Lupin, werewolf licence renewal," Remus said.

"Visitor, please take your badge." Remus pinned the small silver badge that came rattling out of the telephone apparatus - reading Remus Lupin, Licence Renewal - to the front of his robes. Aemilia, being a Ministry employee, did not get one.

"Have a nice day," the voice said, and they began the descent to the Ministry of Magic.

*

"Level Five," the cool female voice said.

"I'm going to dash into work, Remus," Aemilia said. "Shall I meet you upstairs in, oh, an hour?"

Remus nodded. "Sounds fine to me," and he and Aemilia parted company.

He rapped on the door of the Werewolf Registry Office, glancing at his watch. Good, I'm on time, he thought. He hated to think what might happen if, one day, he wasn't… Hagrid's run-in with the Committee For The Disposal Of Dangerous Creatures had been bad enough, and he didn't particularly fancy being chased around by Walden McNair with an axe.

Though Walden McNair with a wand is just as bad, he thought with a shudder, remembering the Department of Mysteries.

The door opened. "Mr. Lupin," Alfred Humbert greeted him. "Thankyou for being punctual."

*

After half an hour of being poked and prodded and - finally, he considered - being issued with a renewed licence, Remus left the Werewolf Registry Office.

Half an hour till I have to meet Aemilia, he thought. What am I going to do in the Ministry of Magic for half an hour?

I could visit Arthur Weasley, he thought. Yes, that's what I'll do.

But when the voice in the lift announced his arrival on Level Two, Remus realised that the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office was not, in fact, the place he needed to visit.

"Department of Mysteries," the cool female voice announced.