Author's Note: Yes, it has been a while. I have been exceedingly busy. I still am very busy, but since it has been almost a month since I last updated this fic, I decided that an update was necessary. I hope you like it!

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McGonagall was staring into his eyes, a deep frown curling her well-formed lips. James lowered his gaze, to afraid and ashamed to even look at her. The Professor took a deep breath and adjusted her wide-rimmed glasses, "I cannot even put into words what I feel about the events that were taking place in that auditorium." She paused and continued, "However, for your sole benefit, I will try. Yes, I am extremely angry. But, for the most part I simply disappointed."

James' gaze remained locked on the floor. His stomach lurched slightly as a pang of guilt stabbed. He liked McGonagall and disappointing her really wasn't high on his priority list.

The Professor cleared her throat and glared sternly at the boys, when resumed speaking, her tone was sad and tired, "Torturing Muggles, even harassing them slightly as a joke, is by no means a laughing matter - not anymore. A strange cult is immerging, its sole purpose is to torture and kill Muggles."

Sirius interrupted, "Professor, what we were doing in there hardly qualifies as torturing Muggles! It was funny! We didn't hurt them!"

It was Minerva's turn to interrupt, "What starts out as harmless fun can quickly - very quickly - turn into something malicious and dangerous, Mr. Black. You might not have harmed them today, but what about in ten years from now? Will you always be entertained by putting Muggle school officials into ballet costumes? I think not! What if, one day, you find it funny to actually kill someone?"

Sirius' eyes bugged out of his head, and an incredulous look came over his dark featured face, "Professor." He began his tone serious, "I would never, ever kill anyone."

She sighed, "Yes, Sirius, I know. I was only making a point. Muggles are people; they are not a toy for your amusement. You cannot treat them like stuffed animals."

James bit his lip and asked cautiously, "Erm.Professor? How exactly did you know we were here?"

"Oh, on school holidays, I work at the Flu Network, to make a bit of spare money. The port the two of you came through, hadn't been used since the summer, and then by one person. Previous to that, it hadn't been used for over forty years. The Flu network president thought it a bit suspicious that an apparently abandoned terminal was used twice in five minutes."

James looked down, "Oh."

Professor McGonagall fixed them with a strict look, raising her eyebrows, "I must warn the two of you, a law is being passed for the New Year concerning under aged wizards. It seems that the largest users of illegal spells are wizards younger than seventeen. As, they are being recruited into this cult, called The Death Eaters. The ministry is setting up a network to track the use of spells as we speak. You may wish to refrain from using anymore spells on Muggles, or I will make sure to put your names on the ministry list of young wizards to watch most closely."

Sirius gaped at her, mouth open slightly, "THEY CAN'T DO THAT! IT'S NOT FAIR! AN INFRACTION OF OUR RIGHTS!"

Minerva smiled slightly, "Mr. Black, until you are seventeen, you don't have any rights."

Sirius scowled, his brows furrowed, "Doesn't seem fair."

"Maybe not, but that's the way it is. Now," her eagle eyes turned to James, "Mr. Potter, I feel that perhaps I should escort yourself and Mr. Black home."

"Well, Professor, you see." James stammered, desperate for some excuse that would prevent McGonagall from going home with him.

"We need to go get Remus." Sirius concluded smoothly.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows disbelievingly, "Oh really? To bring him where?"

James had recovered, "My house."

Sirius gave the Professor his best, I'm so innocent and sweet don't you love me smile, "And we might be a while in getting him, you probably don't want to hang around."

She frowned, "Well, I do have to get back to work. I don't want to hear about you two getting into anymore trouble, is that clear?" She leaned in, making sure to direct her stare at Sirius, who was already beginning to smirk at the fact that they'd gotten away with their Muggle endeavours.

McGonagall removed her wand from her baggy robes. With a small 'POP' she vanished from sight.

James breathed a loud exaggerated sigh of relief, "Excellent, she's gone. Now, we can go get Remus."

Sirius hand on his heart, "That nearly gave me a heart attack, that did. Of all the bad luck, McGonagall has to catch us! James, we are never repeating that experience again. Never, I tell you."

James grinned and gently grabbed his friend's arm pulling him towards the academy's large ornately decorated fireplace. He was definitely ready to get out of this place.

The boys stepped into the fireplace and James took out a handful of the greenish Flu powder, which he had stuffed in his pocket on the journey before. He quickly said the address for Remus, "La créature de la lumière de ciel de nuit"

"What kind of Flu address is that? It sounds French." Sirius demanded.

"I've no idea." James responded, "I don't speak French, at least not very well. It was a required class at my Muggle school, but I never paid any attention."

"That was a brilliant move." Sirius muttered. The conversation was cut short as the pair was engulfed in the flame.

A moment later, they found themselves inside a small, very cluttered little cottage. Homey furniture made it look comfy and gave the tiny living room an endearing look and feel.

Sirius stood up first and brushed himself off, "Remus!" he called.

From another room a soft, raspy voice came, "Sirius?"

James rose, "Remus, we're hear to invite you to my house, uhh.formally. Where are you?"

The raspy voice came again, "Well, I'm in my room. Second door on your left, but I'm not so well.so I don't really think going to your house would be a good idea."

"Remus," Sirius hollered, "You're always sick, I really think you should see a specialist." He turned and looked at James and said in a hushed whisper, "If they have specialists for werewolves."

James glared irritably at Sirius and hissed, "Sirius, I told you. I don't think Remus is a werewolf. Drop it"

From the other room Remus called, "Well, there aren't really any specialists for my condition."

Sirius began nodding enthusiastically at James, but stopped when James gave him an extremely annoyed look, which plainly said, "Drop it, or die."

James and Sirius made there ways over to the room which Remus had specified and quietly peered in. On the bed, was Remus, but he looked nothing like the Remus they were used too. His eyes were sunken, and purple shadows darkened his usually pale cheeks. His lips were dry and his generally creamy skin was cracked. In two words he looked: absolutely awful.

"Geez Remus," Sirius voiced what they were both think, "You've seen better days."

Remus chucked quietly, the sound strange and forced, "When you're sick, you usually have."

"So what have you got anyway?" Sirius asked craftily, earning himself an aggravated look from James.

"Diabetes," Remus responded promptly.

"Oh," said Sirius sounding a tad disappointed.

"Well," said James trying to rap up the conversation before Sirius asked any embarrassing questions, "If you're feeling better, my Flu address is: Potterville UK."

Without any further talk, he and Sirius left the room. As soon as they were out of the room, James hissed, "Okay, okay. I believe you. I think Remus is a werewolf."

Sirius smiled triumphantly, "I knew you would see my point. It makes perfect sense. He's always sick on the full moon, always the same symptoms. Remus is a werewolf."

"Okay," James whispered, "Do not mention this to Remus. Wait until he tells us. I'm sure he will one day."

"Right, but what if he never tells us? Does that mean I have to keep the secret forever?"

James sighed exasperatedly and pulled Sirius towards the fireplace.