My apologies in advance for the Hermione/Remus debate. I got out of hand. Turned out my Ethics class was at least good for something...

Late August/early September 1995.

"Well, look after yourselves. You too, Harry. Be careful."

Books. Is there anything better than books? The feeling of new a dustjacket, the weight of a thick tome with unknown stories and adventures in your hand, the peculiar scent of the fresh pages which can only be described as papery.

Remus was relishing this very thing while standing in front of Flourish and Blotts, looking at the books on display. Well, maybe he wasn't so much relishing it as imagining it, but he'd done it so often it was pretty much the same thing.

"Back to school?" a huge, colourful advertisement blared. "Buy your Hogwarts books here!" Under the advertisement, they had put all the curricular books on display, with the other things the students would need – quills, parchment, notebooks, agendas and the like –

tastefully placed between and on the books. The books themselves ranged from Potions books for first years (Remus briefly wondered whether Snape had ever changed the books he used in all those years he had been teaching) to the six books used for seventh-year Advanced Muggle Studies.

Defence Against the Dark Arts wasn't among them.

They had done a good job of concealing it, Remus noted. No gaping holes – you really had to look for it to miss it. You really had to be a nutty ex-teacher, still protective of your subject even after two years, to see it. Remus noticed it immediately.

He knew why, of course. He had been nagging Dumbledore enough about it to know. The books were always assigned by the teacher teaching that particular subject. Dumbledore hadn't been able to find one for Defence Against the Dark Arts. It wasn't so much that he couldn't find anybody who suited him. There were plenty of people he could have asked. Remus would've been happy to come back to Hogwarts, one of the Aurors would be qualified as well, and even Mad-Eye Moody might be persuaded. But the School Board and the Ministry disagreed with the Headmaster. All his suggestions had been turned down, even the less outlandish ones. Perhaps they were afraid he was going to turn up with another 'Hagrid'. But secretly, everybody knew they turned everybody down just to oppose Dumbledore. And now, almost three weeks before the beginning of the school year, there was still one teacher missing, and exactly the one for the subject the Order feared the students were going to need the most.

Remus sighed deeply, leaving a circle of condensation on the window. He looked up, and saw his brother reflected next to him in the window.

"And what are you so terribly sad about, pray tell?" Romulus asked.

"Everything," Remus sighed. "The entire world. Trees dying. Umbridge being alive. You realise how very unfair that is, that she is alive while there are trees, actually useful beings, being killed?"

Romulus patted his shoulder. "Remus, dear brother, I hate to break it to you, but you really are an unbelievable nutcase."

"Doesn't that make you a nutcase too?" Remus wondered.

"What, purely by association or something?"

"Because we're related."

"Ah, no, not at all." Romulus had that twinkling in his eyes that told Remus there was a weird theory with inimitable logic coming up. "Me being a nutcase simply because I'm related to you would assume that there are things like nutcase-genes. Statistically speaking, it would be impossible that we were the only two in our family with what I'll call the nutcase-syndrome. Now, let's see..." He began ticking it off on his fingers. "My children don't seem to have it. Then again, perhaps they got just the good looks from me and their brains from their mother."

Remus gave a huge fake cough at this arrogant statement.

"While I can't deny that our beloved father isn't the most normal person around," Romulus continued, "it's not as bad as you are. You stand here pining away looking at school books while everybody sane is at Quality Quidditch Supplies, drooling over the newest brooms."

"Like that's a sane thing to do."

"It's saner than looking at schoolbooks when you graduated nearly twenty years ago. Now, Mum's not a nutcase either – and even if she was I wouldn't say it because, as you know, mums find out everything. Which leaves you."

"But perhaps," Remus objected, "I wasn't born a nutcase, but became one."

"Nurture versus nature."

"Exactly."

"You know, I still think your logic is somehow flawed..." Remus said pensively. "I just can't be bothered to find out how. Let's go drink tea."

His brother clapped him on the shoulder. "Spoken like a true Lupin."

They went into the cafe next to the bookshop. It wasn't as old and dingy as the Leaky Cauldron, and it certainly was much cleaner. An old witch was standing behind the counter, while a wizard, presumably her husband, was continuously cleaning glasses. Two young witches were waiting tables, and it was with one of them that the Lupins ordered tea. It was brought to them five minutes later.

Teabag, sugar, spoon – they did all this in silence. It was only when he had prepared his cup, that Remus said: "so. There was something you wanted to tell me?"

"Hmm," Romulus said. He suddenly sounded evasive. He kept his eyes fixed on his cup as he stirred his tea. Remus waited patiently.

"Be honest," Romulus said, still looking at his tea. "Would you ever hate me?"

"Depends on what you've done, I suppose."

"You see, I've been promoted..."

Remus cocked his head. "Should I hate you for that?"

"Well, I haven't exactly been promoted. There was a job offering, I applied and I got accepted," Romulus continued. He seemed to brace himself for something. "At the Werewolf Registry."

Remus disbelievingly raised both his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"Actually," Romulus said, still avoiding his brother's eyes, "it's at the Werewolf Capture Unit."

"What?"

"It's not what you think," the younger man immediately began pleading. Remus cut him off.

"Not what I think? What I think?" he said hotly. "You have no idea what I'm thinking right now. For God's sake, Romulus! The bloody Werewolf Capture Unit? How can you even bare working with those people? You might as well take me to Azkaban right away!" He demonstratively stuck out his hands and snarled: "Go on! Put me into chains. It's your job now, after all."

Romulus looked so sad and so sorry that Remus calmed down a bit. "Utter bastard," he said. "Why? I thought that you of all people wouldn't want to work there. Congratulations, you're now supposed to arrest your own brother. And not in the nicest possible way either, from what I've heard."

"Only if you... misbehave," Romulus said weakly.

"Spare me the details, I already know too much about that. Did you know the Capture Unit has been allowed to kill werewolves if there's no other way?"

"I know, Remus, I know. Listen, I'll tell you why I did it."

"You'd better have a damn good reason."

"I think I have. Listen. You know I used to work at the Department for the Control of Experimental Breeding, and I was always running around telling people off for inventing new creatures. To tell you the truth, it got boring."

"So you decided to go and capture werewolves," Remus added dully.

"No! At least, not like that. Listen, please. When you work at the Ministry, you... hear things. Stories from other Departments. I often heard people from the Capture Unit boast about how they had captured this-and-that werewolf, or did they remember that one werewolf there-and-there, and recalling how brave they had been. It sounded as if they were merely catching animals, instead of people. And I know you, obviously, and werewolves are not animals, but they didn't seem to realise, and it irked me. So I decided to apply for a job there, to... I don't know, to actually help the werewolves, and not hurt them. And hopefully change the other's point of view too."

"Lousy idea," was Remus' conclusion. "No, wait, let me rephrase that. The idea in itself is... nice, thoughtful and flattering. But the way you'd thought you'd do it is horrible and your way of telling me is even worse. It sounds like... a vegetarian becoming a butcher to help the poor animals! Romulus, how could you even think it would help? Or that I would like it?"

"Perhaps I should've told you... differently," Romulus said carefully.

"Damn right you should have."

A tense silence followed.

"Does Julia know?" Remus asked. "Do Mum and Dad know?"

"Julia does, but Mum and Dad don't, yet. I decided to tell you first."

"I'm flattered," Remus said sarcastically. "How thoughtful, that you decided to tell me first before you were going to tell them that one of their sons is supposed to murder the other."

"I'd hoped you'd understand," came Romulus in a small voice.

"Understand? Oh yes, I completely understand. Thank you, Romulus. You finally made me understand that the Ministry's stupid and dangerous enough to make a man turn traitor on his brother." Remus got to his feet. "I don't have anything else to say to you, except that, from now on, I'll be double careful not to run into you when it's a full moon."

And with that, he walked out, leaving Romulus at the table, feeling miserable and utterly stupid.

"Didn't he think?" burst Sirius.

"He did," said Remus wearily. "But along the wrong lines."

"Wrong lines... those weren't even lines anymore." Sirius was far angrier than Remus had been, but then again, Sirius had always had more of a temper than Remus. He suddenly stopped pacing, standing still in the middle of Remus' room, looking at his friend, who was sitting on the bed.

"You know, I just realised something..." he said. "You know the myth?"

"What myth?"

"Remus! And Romulus!"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Sadly enough, I do. My parents being stupid. At least they didn't name us Mark and Anthony or something like that."

"Mark and Frank – the German and French currency. But listen, irony strikes. In the myth, Romulus killed Remus, remember? And now, Romulus, your brother, is supposed to – "

"Yeah, sure," said Remus sarcastically. "This is all a big re-enactment of a myth. Snape is a Roman Emperor, Arthur Weasley is a king who pulled a sword from a stone, and you're actually a star."

"Perhaps. But if you ever feel the urge to build your own city, you'd better not pick a fight with Romulus when there's a bucket laying around. Buckets can kill, you know."

"I hate you."

"I know."

This was one of the last conversations Remus had with Sirius that month during which Sirius was genuinely cheerful. The prospect of having to hand his precious Godson over to Dumbledore depressed Sirius. Without the company of the children, Sirius would be left to his own company and that of Kreacher and Buckbeak for most of the days, and it was something he wasn't looking forward to. The closer the first of September got, the gloomier Sirius became. He began separating himself from the others, spending hours on end in his mother's bedroom with only Buckbeak for company.

Remus did what he could to cheer his friend up, but he was busy himself. He spend most of his days at the Ministry, trying to listen in to conversations as inconspicuously as he could, which meant that he spend an awful lot of time in the elevators and around the coffee machine, the places where there was the biggest chance that people slipped up. The only time he spend two whole days at Grimmauld Place was after the full moon. He had gone home, to Derbyshire, for the Change, but hadn't felt like 'working' when he had come back, so he had decided to stay at 'home'. Sirius had livened up in those two days, but had gone back to his, now usual, sullen self when Remus had begun leaving every day again.

The summer vacation was nearly at an end, only one day to go, when McGonagall came in with unpleasant news.

"We have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," she said with pursed lips. She was sitting at the kitchen table, still in her coat – she only had a few minutes, and she was only here to pass important news on.

"Oh really?" Sirius asked. Remus wasn't home, but no doubt he wanted to know. "Who?"

"Dolores Umbridge." She gave Sirius a meaningful glare (it was supposed to be just an ordinary meaningful look, but with her square glasses and tight bun it came out as a glare).

Sirius pulled up his eyebrows. "I expect we're now thinking about the same Dolores Umbridge? The Senior Under-secretary to the Minister? However did that happen?"

McGonagall sighed. "The Ministry has passed a motion only today, called the Educational Degree number twenty-two, which says that when the Headmaster of Hogwarts can't find a suitable person, the Ministry is allowed to select somebody. Mere minutes later, Dolores Umbridge was appointed the new Defence teacher."

"How did Dumbledore react to the news?" Molly Weasley wanted to know.

"As to be expected, of course. He said we are to give her a warm welcome." She smiled wryly. "As if we hadn't have troubles enough, we're now supposed to endure someone who is in direct contact with the Ministry. We might as well have Fudge himself on the staff." She got to her feet. "I must be going. There's still a lot to prepare for the new school year. Molly, the letters will arrive tomorrow."

"Yes, thank you."

"Don't tell the children just yet," McGonagall instructed as she buttoned up her coat. "They'll find out soon enough." She looked pensively at Sirius. "Perhaps you should tell Remus. But do it with some tact, please."

"I'm always tactful around Moony."

She gave that peculiar laugh that teachers always have around certain promising but unruly students – even though that particular student wasn't a student anymore. That certain 'you say so, but I know better'-laugh. "I certainly hope so."

But, Sirius wondered when she was gone, how do you tell something like this in a tactful way?

Remus only returned home very early in the morning and left again a few hours later, so Sirius didn't get around to telling him until the evening of August the 31st. They had just sneaked upstairs, to escape the mayhem the new Prefects – Ron and Hermione – had caused. Sirius was feeding Buckbeak dead rats, Remus was watching him from his own room. Sirius hadn't been able to lift the spell that wouldn't allow Remus to enter Mrs Black's room, and truth be told Remus liked it better this way. The further away from Buckbeak, the happier he was.

"You know, McGonagall had some... news yesterday," Sirius began carefully.

"Oh really? What was it?" Remus rubbed his forehead sleepily. He felt tired. "She came to tell you that your transfiguration was abysmal and she expects to see you at Hogwarts tomorrow for extra classes, with the first-years?"

"You know I would almost welcome that news?" Sirius asked. "How pathetic is that? No, it's... worse than that."

"Oh God." Remus leaned against the invisible wall that kept him from Mrs Black's room. He had his hands flat against it, and it looked rather strange from Sirius' point of view. "What happened?"

"I found out who's going to be the next Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"Really? Who is it? How is it bad? Or, rather, how bad is it? It's not Lucius Malfoy, is it?"

Sirius shook his head.

"Oh God, don't let it be Snape."

Sirius sighed. "Remus, it's Dolores Umbridge."

Remus gaped.

"Sorry."

"Sorry?" Remus repeated. "Sorry? Whoever is responsible for this is going to be sorry! God, I wish it had been Snape! Whatever was Dumbledore thinking? Really, I know I owe a lot to him and stuff, but – "

"It's not Dumbledore's fault," Sirius explained quickly. "He was overruled by the Ministry. They passed a motion, Educational Degree something, because he hadn't been able to come up with a decent teacher – in their eyes at least."

Remus hit his head on the invisible wall. "Sometimes, it seems as if everybody is trying to make my life hell."

Sirius walked over to Remus and patted him on the head. "I know the feeling."

"I know it isn't my job anymore, but... it was my job! Merlin knows what she's not going to teach those children."

"I know, I know..."

Somebody knocked on the door.

"C'min."

Molly Weasley stuck her head around the door. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Yes, we're coming."

She disappeared again. Sirius looked at his friend. "Ready to face the crowd with a cheery face?"

"I hate her," Remus muttered.

"Moony! Of course you don't! How can you say such a thing!"

"Easy," Remus said with the air of an obstinate child. "I open my mouth and the words come out."

"Don't act like me, please. Listen, Moony, you can't hate her. That's not like you. The world would fall to pieces and I wouldn't know what to do if you started hating. You only dislike, you never hate."

"I intensely dislike her then, is that okay?"

"If you insist," Sirius said, giving a mock-sigh. "C'mon, Molly's expecting us downstairs, party-time. Hermione's a Prefect, doesn't that make you happy?"

"How would that make me happy?" Remus asked, slightly cheered up nonetheless.

"I know you longer than five minutes?" Sirius asked back. Remus grinned despite himself.

"But," Sirius said, "I'd dearly like to know why Harry isn't a Prefect."

"Probably about the same reason why Prongs wasn't one – too unruly. Snape would probably protest too. Besides, Ron deserves it. Let's go downstairs."

"Very elegant way of cutting off the conversation, Moony."

It turned out that Molly had decorated the kitchen. She had hung a banner over the dinner table, which read "CONGRATULATIONS RON AND HERMIONE; NEW PREFECTS." She had loaded the table with all kinds of dishes.

Tonks and Kingsley were already there. Kingsley was his usual calm and collected self; Tonks looked eager to tuck in. She had waist-length red hair today.

"I can't remember my parents decorating like this when I became a Prefect," Remus said when he saw the banner.

"Poor you!" was Sirius' comment. "If I were you, I'd demand they decorate anyway. Even though it's twenty years too late."

Even Kingsley grinned.

Moments later, the children and Molly Weasley came in. They had barely sat themselves down and taken something to drink, when Alastor Moody arrived. Molly jumped to her feet again as he took off his cloak. He reacted quite differently (but not, as Sirius whispered to Remus and Tonks, unexpectedly) to the news of the new Prefects by warning Ron that figures of authority always attracted trouble, which rather seemed to put a damper on Ron's cheerfulness. He was, like the others, distracted by the entrance of Mr Weasley, Bill and Mundungus. After the whole ordeal of congratulating was done again, Arthur proposed a toast to the new Gryffindor Prefects. Remus smiled when he saw Hermione blush as everybody toasted to and applauded her and Ron.

After that, everybody was invited to tuck in. They were supposed to just take something from the table instead of sitting down. Remus ended up in a small group with Sirius, Tonks, Ginny, Hermione and Harry. The subject was of course Prefects.

"I was never a Prefect myself," Tonks told Ginny conversationally. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."

"Like what?" Ginny said, already a grin around the corners of her mouth.

"Like the ability to behave myself," Tonks replied. Ginny burst into laughing, Remus and Sirius grinned and Hermione choked on her Butterbeer because she didn't know whether to laugh or look scandalised.

The grinning from behind brought Sirius to Ginny's attention. "What about you, Sirius?" she asked.

Sirius laughed. "No one would have made me a Prefect," he said, "I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge."

Remus smiled, albeit a bit wryly. "I think Dumbledore might have hoped I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends," he said. "I need scarcely say that I failed dismally." He glanced at his best friend. Sirius pulled a face and stuck out his tongue. Remus burst into laughing. "See?" They all laughed again.

After they'd filled their plates, they sat down. Sirius was immediately claimed by Ron, who couldn't stop talking about his new broom, the latest Cleansweep. He had picked the right person to talk to – Sirius had been a Quidditch fanatic too and he knew all about which qualities a good broom should have. Remus always felt slightly at sea during these kind of conversations.

Instead, he ended up sitting next to Hermione. She was still slightly giddy with excitement.

"Congratulations," he said. "Although you must be tired of hearing it by now."

"Not at all," she replied, smiling broadly.

"Have you told your parents yet?"

"I send Harry's owl, I expect I'll get a huge letter back tomorrow."

"I remember my own parents reaction," he told her, "they were ecstatic. Because, as my mother so eloquently put it, 'we were expecting it, but not exactly, you know, expecting it'."

She laughed, then said, suddenly serious: "was that because you were... a werewolf?"

The sudden change of topic startled Remus for a moment. He decided to just react normally to it; this was Hermione after all, the girl who had figured out in one year that her teacher was a werewolf. "Yes," he said simply. "Because of that."

"Professor Lupin," she went on passionately, "I hope you don't mind me discussing it right now, but remember that conversation we had a few weeks back?"

"I'm not your professor anymore, and yes, I do remember."

"I think I got a 'blistering retort' to what you said," she said, smiling confidently.

"Ah," he said, smiling himself. "Let's hear it."

"Well, it's a bit muddled, but it basically comes down to this. You said that serving is in the house-elf's nature and that they can't be forced to liberate themselves. And not everybody treats house-elves badly, it's just that some do."

"Exactly."

"Now, I've done a bit of reading on ethics, and I found out that it isn't right. There is this theory called Cultural Relativism which says that you shouldn't judge other cultures because what they are doing is right to them, even if it is horrible to you. If I may regard the wizarding world, or people with house-elves, as another culture; I don't like house-elf enslavement, but they see it as right, so I shouldn't judge it. But Cultural Relativism has, since a few years, been viewed as untrue, because there are some things that are always right and some things that are always unjust. Like stealing, or murdering. The philosopher Kant agreed with this, and said that things are only right if you can logically say it is right. Logically, I can't see why house-elves being treated badly because they have been for generations is right, or even just, therefore it must be an injustice."

Remus couldn't help himself – he burst into laughing. "Bravo, Hermione!" he said. "You're obviously very well read. But on the other hand. There's always another hand, you know..." He thought for a minute. "Ever heard of Aristotle?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course."

"He said that the world is ordered rationally, that everything is here for a purpose, and that the purpose of most of the world is to serve humans. Because, you see, humans are the best, the piece de resistance of creation. Aristotle apparently thought house-elves should serve wizards. Unless, of course, you think the great philosopher is wrong..." he finished teasingly.

Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times. "Well..." she said. "Perhaps... perhaps they didn't have house-elves at that time!"

"Perhaps," Remus said, grinning.

"You are so annoying!" she told him bluntly. This made him laugh. She was genuinely annoyed, though, and she continued hotly. She had cast aside the entire matter of philosophers from times past and was now only voicing her own opinion.

"It's just ridiculous that this entire group of people think they can get away with something like this," she began rattling. "For generations, they've treated the house-elves badly, just because they can, and just because the house-elves don't do anything against it. I mean, it's the same kind of nonsense as werewolf segregation, isn't it? It all stems from this horrible thing wizards have of thinking they're superior to other creatures –"

"Whoa, Hermione, slow down," Remus said. Her last words had hit a bit too close to home. "What's all this about werewolves all of a sudden?"

"Well," she said, a blush of indignation on her cheeks. "After – you know, when you resigned – I heard people talk, and they said... things..."

"I think I can imagine what they said," he said sourly. The conversation had taken a rather unpleasant turn.

"Yes, well... The things they said were, I thought, rather similar to what people say about house-elves. That they are inferior and... stuff like that." She blushed; she obviously felt uncomfortable repeating all this to him.

"Sadly, Hermione, you can't change the view of an entire country – an entire world perhaps – all by yourself," he said, sharper than he had intended.

"But don't you want to try?" she replied.

"Where would you begin?"

"The Ministry?" was her first, quick answer. Then, realising that the Ministry of Magic would probably be the last to want to see werewolves and house-elves as equals, she corrected herself: "or at least a small group of people. The people here are a start."

He smiled a bit sadly. "I wish you good luck." He mentally added: and at Hogwarts too, with Umbridge...

He got up. Hermione looked as though she wanted to say something, but Ginny, who had seen Remus get up, seized her chance and asked Hermione's opinion on whether Tonk's nose really looked like Dumbledore's or should it perhaps be slightly more crooked?

Remus was glad to escape more discussion about discriminated groups in the wizarding world. Out of habit, he checked to see what Sirius was doing. Apparently, the twins were trying to get some last-minute inspiration from the officially-retired (but unofficially still at large) Marauder. Remus went to get himself another drink.

Kingsley had had the same idea. The Auror cordially poured Remus a drink as well and they sat down together.

"I don't think I've seen the place so busy," Kingsley commented.

"That's what you get when you party with so many people, and it's the last day of the holidays too," Remus replied. He took a sip from his Butterbeer. The party was somewhat spoiled for him.

"You know, there's something I wonder..." Kingsley said.

"What's that?"

"Nothing against Ron, I'm sure he'll be great, but after everything Harry's done, I wonder why Dumbledore didn't make Potter a prefect?"

"He'll have had his reasons," Remus replied.

"But it would've shown confidence in him," Kingsley insisted. "It's what I'd have done. 'specially with the Daily Prophet having a go at him every few days..."

"Maybe Dumbledore thought Ron was better suited. Or could use the confidence more," Remus said wearily. He had a feeling this entire conversation would be repeated later this evening, but with Sirius instead of Kingsley.

"Yeah, I suppose so," Kingsley said. "Still, it's unexpected."

"Hmm," said Remus. He got up again and walked to the other side of the basement. He had a strange, melancholy feeling, and he actually badly needed to be cheered up.

Sirius rose to the occasion.

"Oi, Moony," he said, as he came to stand next to his friend. "Wotcher?"

"You've spend too much time with Tonks," Remus observed. "I bet your mother wouldn't have liked you saying that."

"No, she would've given me a fairly severe beating, I suppose," Sirius replied. "What're you doing?"

"Meditating on the uselessness of existence," Remus sighed.

"Bored, eh?"

"Cheer me up, Padfoot."

"I have something that might interest you. The twins asked me if I could come up with an interesting project for them this school year. They wanted to do something with invisibility, so I suggested a project of genius: invisibility socks!"

"Invisibility socks?" Remus frowned. "What's the fun in that?"

"It makes your feet disappear."

"And?"

Sirius sighed. "And then you can pretend some monster ate it?"

"Padfoot, this is why you needed me. Socks aren't fun enough. Make it an invisibility glove, then you're talking."

"I have to admit that you were a fairly useful addition to Prongs' and my dream-team, but that doesn't mean you should get all proud and big-headed. What's the fun in invisibility gloves, oh wise one?"

"Well," Remus said with shining eyes. Sirius waited impatiently for the undoubtedly brilliant idea, already grinning madly. "You can put them on in potions and tell Snape you stuck your hand in your potion, and was this supposed to happen?"

Sirius roared with laughter. "Genius!"

"Or invisibility shoes, which make it seem as though you're floating a few inches above the ground."

"Or invisibility leg warmers so that an entire leg disappears."

"Or an invisibility collar so that your head floats above your shoulders."

"What would the effect be of invisibility earmuffs?" Sirius wondered.

But Remus' attention was on something else. "What's that Moody has?"

Sirius turned around. "What's that you've got there, Mad-Eye?" he asked, patient as always. Moody turned to him and showed an old photograph. As usual, the people (a fairly large crowd) were moving.

"Bugger that," Sirius whispered. "Moony."

"What?" Remus came to stand next to Sirius. He did a sharp intake of breath when he realised what he saw.

The entire original Order of the Phoenix.

"Look, there's me," Sirius pointed, sounding oddly distant.

"Yeah," Remus said. "You look so young. Where am I?"

"Somewhere at the back, I suppose." Sirius gave the photograph to Remus. "Here, you'll see it better." He turned away, pretending not to care. He hadn't mentioned James or Lily, let alone Peter, even though they had been almost right in the middle, next to Sirius.

Tonks peered over Remus' shoulder. "Can I see?"

"And I?" Ginny asked. The others voiced an interest too. Remus gave the photo back to Moody, so the former Auror could explain. He looked at Sirius, to see if there was anything he could do, but his friend avoided his eye.

He looked around the room again, and suddenly noticed –

"Where's Harry?"

Sirius' attention was immediately drawn. "What?"

"Did you see him go upstairs?"

Sirius thought for a moment. "No..."

"He's better not walk in on Molly and that – Boggart." He gave Sirius an alarmed look and immediately began making his way to the staircase, to the drawing room. Sirius followed suit, even though he had no idea what exactly was going on. He only took just enough time to beckon Moody to follow them.

Remus had his ears pricked up, listening intently to any sound coming from upstairs. He began taking the stairs two steps at a time when he heard a repeated cracking – the sound of a Boggart taking various shapes. A Boggart not properly taken care off, too frightening to be dealt with. He burst into the room.

"What's going on?"

He looked quickly across the room. Harry was standing only a few feet away from them. Molly was pressed against the wall, sobbing loudly. Boggart-Harry lay on the floor, dead.

Oh Merlin, don't let Sirius see this.

He pointed his wand at the body and said almost automatically: "Riddikulus!" Without so much as looking at the moon that appeared, he waved his wand and the Boggart disappeared.

"Oh – oh – oh!" Molly broke down and began sobbing desperately, her face in her hands.

"Molly..." Remus walked to her and crouched down next to her, unsure just what exactly to do. "Molly don't..."

She flung her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder.

"Molly, it was just a Boggart," he said, hoping it was comforting. He patted her on the head with the same hope. "Just a stupid Boggart..."

"I see them d – d – dead all the time!" she moaned. "All the t – t – time! I d – d – dream about it..."

Remus continued making soothing sounds and patting her on the head, rocking her slightly as if she was just a small child. It seemed to work; she eventually let go of him and leaned back against the wall. She dried her eyes with her cuffs and sniffed pathetically.

"D – d – don't tell Arthur," she said. "I d – d – don't want him to know... being silly..."

Remus handed her one of the handkerchiefs he always carried around, and she blew her nose. "Harry, I'm so sorry," she said next. "What must you think of me? Not even able to get rid of a Boggart..."

"Don't be stupid," Harry said, taking the words out of Remus' mouth.

"I'm just s – s – so worried," she confessed, teary-eyed. "Half the f – f – family's in the Order, it'll b – b – be a miracle if we all come through this... and P – P – Percy's not talking to us... what if something d – d – dreadful happens and we've never m – m – made it up with him? And what's going to happen if Arthur and I get killed, who's g – g – going to look after Ron and Ginny?" She wrung the handkerchief, a look of agony on her face.

"Molly, that's enough," Remus said sternly. "This isn't like last time. The Order are better prepared, we've got a head start, we know what Voldemort's up to –"

Molly whimpered softly when she heard Voldemort's name.

"Oh, Molly, come on, It's about time you got used to hearing his name – look, I can't promise no one's going to get hurt, nobody can promise that, but we're much better off than we were last time," he said bracingly. "You weren't in the Order then, you don't understand. Last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one – "

"Don't worry about Percy," Sirius interrupted suddenly. "He'll come round. It's only a matter of time before Voldemort moves into the open; once he does, the whole Ministry's going to be begging us to forgive them. And I'm not sure I'll be accepting their apology."

Remus decided to ignore these bitter words. "And as for who's going to look after Ron and Ginny if you and Arthur died," he said, allowing himself a small smile, "what do you think we'd do, let them starve?" He shook her gently at these words. To his relief, she smiled too.

"Being silly," she muttered again, but more gently this time.

"Heads up," he said, touching her chin and gently pushing it upwards like his father used to do. "It's going to be alright," he said softly so that only she could hear.

The smile on her face was now genuine, although her eyes were still wet. Remus saw her to her room and made sure she was okay before he walked out on the landing again. Sirius, as expected, was waiting for him. His friend made a sort of helpless gesture.

"I don't know, Moony..." he said. "I just don't know."

"Same here, Padfoot. Same here."

The next morning, there was no time for quiet reflection. Almost from the moment Remus woke up, the house was bursting with people running up and down the stairs, gathering clothes ("you ought to have done that yesterday!" – Molly was back on form), trying to catch Crookshanks, making breakfast and then spilling crumbs everywhere, and in the middle of it all Moody was organising his own kind of D-Day: H-Day. Hogwarts Day.

"Will you lot get down here?!" he yelled upstairs at irregular intervals. "We're going to be late!"

"He's been yelling that since eight o'clock this morning," Tonks told Remus, pulling a face when Mrs Black joined the cacophony.

Remus visualised his fingers in his ears (and discovered it didn't help) and went down for breakfast. It was slightly more peaceful there – only Sirius was seated at the table.

"Coffee?"

"Please."

"You know, I'm incredibly glad my parents only had two children to see off to Hogwarts," Remus confessed, rubbing his eyes.

"And no cats either."

"Indeed."

There was a thunder coming from upstairs as though all the Weasley children and their trunks were falling down the stairs. Molly began shouting again, only just audible over Mrs Black's screaming.

"Moony, can I come along to King's Cross?" Sirius asked abruptly.

Remus sighed. "You know the answer to that. Sorry." He quickly got up again and walked out of the kitchen, so as not to have an argument with Sirius. Behind him, Sirius got up too with a determined look on his face.

Moody was in the hall, organising the luggage. "Ah, Lupin," he shouted (Mrs Black had just begun another round of insults), "I want you to take the twins and Miss Weasley to the station! Be careful and keep an eye out al all times, the enemy can be everywhere!"

"SCUM! DIRT! FILTH! MUDBLOODS AND ABOMINATIONS!" Sirius' mother screamed.

"What about Harry and the others?" Remus asked loudly.

"Arthur's taking Ron and Miss Granger, and Molly and Tonks are taking care of Potter," Moody replied. "I had hoped that Sturgis Podmore would be here too, but he hasn't shown up." Moody had a look on his face that indicated that Sturgis would be severely told off once he showed his face again.

"BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS!" Mrs Black screeched.

"Perhaps you could go and see whether the children are ready?" Moody asked. "Potter is to go first, I'll follow with the luggage, then Arthur, and you're last."

"Okay," Remus answered. He began climbing the stairs, away from the deafening noise.

The first landing was incredibly quiet compared to the hall. Remus walked to Fred and George's room and knocked on the door. Fred opened it.

"Almost ready?" Remus asked. "We're going to walk to King's Cross. You two and Ginny are to come with me."

"Okay, we'll be down in a minute," Fred said.

Remus notified Ginny too, and when he got downstairs again Molly and Harry were already gone. Moody charmed the trunks so that they would be invisible and float behind him. Remus helped him get out of the door. Next were Arthur with Ron and Hermione. Two minutes later, Remus let Fred, George and Ginny out and, with a sigh of relief, closed the door behind themselves. The sudden silence was about as deafening as Mrs Black's screeches had been.

"We've got to hurry," he told the children. "We've only got twenty minutes."

They began walking at a fair pace, Ginny next to Remus and the twins behind them. Remus carefully looked around them every time they entered a new street, to see if there was anybody lurking, ready to attack them, but nothing happened. They reached King's Cross five minutes before the train was going to leave.

"George, Fred, you two go first," Remus instructed softly, so as not to attract too much attention. They already were looking slightly suspicious; the platform was nearly deserted and they seemed more interested in the barrier between platforms nine and ten than the train to Inverness that was waiting right next to them. The twins nodded, and a few seconds later they were gone. Remus and Ginny followed suit.

The others were waiting on the other side. Molly and Arthur were standing together, Molly giving some last advice to Ron (who didn't seem too pleased with it). Tonks was chatting with Hermione and Ginny, and Harry was looking at the train, with next to him –

"Padfoot," Remus groaned, rolling his eyes. Sirius was incurable.

The four of them walked over to the others. Moody immediately turned to Remus.

"No trouble?" he asked.

"Nothing," Remus assured him.

"I'll still be reporting Sturgis to Dumbledore," Moody growled, "that's the second time he's not turned up in a week. Getting as unreliable as Mundungus." Everybody ignored him.

Nobody saw it, but a few yards away, Draco Malfoy was looking at them with interest. He pulled his father's sleeve and whispered something to him. Lucius Malfoy looked at the group and nodded slowly, an odd smile on his face...

Remus saw that the conductor started ushering everybody on the train. He turned to the children. "Well, look after yourselves," he said, shaking hands. When he reached Harry, it suddenly seemed odd and overly formal to shake hands with him – James' son – too, so he clapped him on the shoulder instead. "You too. Harry. Be careful."

Padfoot snorted his assent. Remus reached out and gently pulled his ear. "Look who's talking," he said softly to his friend, when Harry's attention was temporarily drawn by Moody. The former Auror was instructing him as always to be careful.

"Keep your head down and your eyes peeled," he said. "And don't forget, all of you – careful what you put in writing. If in doubt, don't put it in a letter at all."

Tonks' farewell was far more cheerful. "It's been great meeting all of you," she said as she hugged Hermione and Ginny. "We'll see you soon, I expect."

A warning whistle blew, and the students still on the platform quickly got on the train.

"Quick, quick," Molly said. She began hugging her children at random. She hugged Harry twice. "Write...," she said to Ron. "Be good..." she told the twins, and Ginny got told that "if you've forgotten anything we'll send it on... on to the train, now, hurry..."

The only one who hadn't said goodbye yet was Padfoot, and he did it in his own special way. He reared onto his hind legs and rested his front paws heavily on Harry's shoulders, ready to lick his Godson's face in the way Remus so detested, but Molly interfered. She pushed Harry away, to the train, and hissed to the dog: "For heaven's sake, act more like a dog, Sirius!"

The children hastily walked to a window and lined up behind it. "See you!" Harry called out while the others waved frantically. Molly, Arthur, Moody, Tonks and Remus waved back as the train began to move. Padfoot wagged his tail and bounded after the train, barking. He had to stop when he reached the end of the platform, where he stood, sadly, looking after the train carrying his Godson so far away from him.

"Completely irresponsible," Molly fussed the whole way back to Grimmauld Place. "Merlin knows what could have happened! What if anybody knew?"

Arthur, Remus and Padfoot followed her quietly. Moody and Tonks had already said goodbye and gone to the Ministry. Remus and Padfoot lagged behind, walking a few feet behind the Weasleys. Padfoot wasn't as enthusiastic and playful as he had been on the way to the station. He trotted next to Remus like a obedient, sweet, incredibly large dog.

They were the last to enter number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Molly disappeared into the kitchen, still muttering furiously. Arthur followed her, to try and calm his wife down.

The moment Padfoot was inside, he changed back into Sirius. He watched his friend anxiously.

"D'you think I've been stupid?" he asked.

"A bit," Remus said, as he closed and locked the door behind him. They both squinted their eyes to see in the near-darkness. "But not much more than usual."

"You'll not tell Dumbledore?"

"Padfoot, I promise – if Dumbledore finds out, it'll not come from me. I actually thought you could do with some fresh air. Although perhaps not in this way, but rather in the middle of the night, or some time like that."

Sirius smiled broadly. "Moony, what should I do without you?"

"Yes, I sometimes wonder that too."