September 1995.

"What were you saying about Scrimgeour?"

"Oh… yeah… well, we need to be a bit more careful, he's been asking Kingsley and me funny questions…"

Of course, Remus knew he had to go out someday. There was no use staying hidden indoors with Sirius for weeks on end. Besides, he wouldn't have been able to face Dumbledore anyway. The Headmaster would take him by the scruff of his neck and kick him out of the door. Figuratively speaking, of course.

So out he went. Careful at first – although he didn't care for the opinions of bigoted people and thought that if they didn't want to talk to him, it was their problem, not his, he wasn't one to voluntarily seek these people's company. Not caring was one thing, but that didn't mean he was supposed to torture himself.

He was nearly insulted when he found out that the rest of the world wasn't standing on the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place, waving torches. Quite the contrary, almost. It turned out that he wasn't as well-known as he thought, and that people didn't read the newspaper as carefully as he had thought. Nor did they remember everything – most people only remembered that Umbridge was now the Hogwarts High-Inquisitor. And oh yes, there was a werewolf mentioned, but what was his name again..?

There were some who knew, however. Some people had folded open the paper over breakfast, had recognised the name – had stared incredulously at the word preceding it.

The most painful was when he went to buy a book in Diagon Alley, in his favourite bookshop. The manager was an elder wizard whom Remus had known for years, practically since he'd graduated from Hogwarts. He considered the man a friend, and was under the impression that the feeling was mutual. So it came as an extra nasty shock when he went to buy a book and the man didn't stop his work to show him a new book he had got, or even just to chat. On the contrary – he pretended not to know Remus, wrapped the book quickly without a word and accepted the money with barely a nod. And he made a point of not touching Remus' hand when he put the money on the counter. It was as if he wasn't there, as if some mysterious invisible entity was taking a book and laying money on the counter. When he walked out of the store, he felt a pair of eyes on his back, but he didn't look back. He immediately walked to the branch of Honeydukes in Diagon Alley, bought two pockets-full of chocolatefrogs, went back to Grimmauld Place and stayed there for the rest of the day. There was a limit to the amount of rejection he could take.

He also decided never to buy books there again.

At Grimmauld Place, he felt safe, odd as that may sound. There was only Sirius around (and Kreacher, but Sirius always threw the house-elf out of the room as fast as possible since he couldn't stand him longer than five minutes). The rest of the Order mainly acted as though the article in the Daily Prophet had never happened.

They already knew anyway. The only reaction Remus could notice was one of pity, and an almost thoughtful comment from Dung that Remus surely wouldn't want to buy some, erm, 'second-hand' silver cutlery. Remus had politely declined, and Molly had decided to count all the forks, knives and spoons at 12 Grimmauld Place again.

The warmest comfort had come, however, not from Sirius, or Dumbledore, or another Order-member he'd expect it from – the warmest comfort came from McGonagall, a few days after Umbridge had been appointed High Inquisitor. McGonagall was once again ranting indignantly about her newest colleague, amusedly watched by Dumbledore (who didn't like Umbridge either, but, being Dumbledore, would never admit it). Remus had felt very flattered when she said that Umbridge was 'teaching the children to disrespect their teachers' with an obvious glance at him.

Sirius had half-joked that, with teachers like Umbridge, how could the children be expected to respect their teachers? But Remus knew that hadn't been McGonagall's point, and he felt… grateful. Strange as that may sound.

"Grateful?" Sirius had said when Remus had told him this. "Grateful? That sounds like you want to give her flowers to thank her."

"Well, perhaps not exactly like that," Remus had said.

"But with a little card, 'Thank you for liking me'?"

"Yes, Padfoot, more like that."

The look of sadness that flitted over Remus' face before he could stop it made Sirius swallow any 'funny' comments he had wanted to make. So instead, he patted his friend on the shoulder. "You're welcome, Moony," he said. "Any time."

"Remind me again why I'm doing this," Remus said, as the golden grille clattered back and he stepped out of the elevator, flanked by Kingsley and Tonks.

"Because you're such an unmissable person," Tonks said, patting his back. "You know what? I'll let you get me cappuccino today instead of just coffee."

"Yippee," Remus muttered, but grinning nonetheless. "You know, you sound exactly like your cousin."

"That's the Black-humour gene," she said, winking.

"That would have been amusing, where it not that he has made that joke at least a dozen times before."

"Shoot, and I thought I was original," she pouted.

"C'mon Tonks, stop babbling and go do something useful," Kingsley said. He shooed her to her cubicle.

"Aye-aye sir!" she saluted, and disappeared.

Remus followed Kingsley to the Auror's cubicle, the by now familiar one with all the photos. When he wasn't being questioned or listening in on conversations, Remus quite enjoyed studying all the pictures. There were some he had never seen before, and seeing them felt like suddenly remembering a forgotten memory.

"You okay?" Kingsley interrupted his thoughts. "No bad feelings about being back on the work-floor?"

"Well," Remus said, "as long as I don't have to wear a name-tag, I think I'll be fine." He had had to wear a name-tag, the first few times Kingsley took him to the Auror Headquarters, but by now he was such a familiar face that Watch wizards didn't bother with it anymore.

"I'll make up a fake name for you," Kingsley said smiling, "I've become quite good at that."

"Lie to your colleagues?" Remus said, as he followed the Auror into his cubicle. "Tssk, what would they say if they found out?"

"They'd be too appalled to say anything, of course." Kingsley leafed through a pile of sheets of parchment until he found what he was looking for. "Here, I'd like you to read this. I got this yesterday."

Remus took the sheet and began reading, watched by Kingsley. It was a scarily detailed testimony by Lucius Malfoy, why he thought that Sirius wasn't in Russia (his new hiding place) but was comfortably hiding in England, in London to be exact. He only just kept himself from mentioning seeing Sirius as a black dog at King's Cross Station (that would sound a bit too unbelievable, seeing as Sirius was an unregistered Animagi), but he had included a short list of people who confirmed that, yes, Sirius Black was in London.

"Good God," Remus said when he had finished reading.

"Quite right." Kingsley narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "The question is – how has he found out?"

"He's seen him at King's Cross," Remus said, leaning wearily against Kingsley's desk. "When we went to take Harry to Hogwarts. Peter's obviously told him that he's an Animagus."

"How come you know that?"

"Harry told Sirius, who told me."

"And how come I don't know it?"

"Well… Sirius must've forgotten to tell you…"

"Brilliant…" Kingsley muttered darkly. "To forget something like that."

"Hmm," said Remus. He looked over the list again. "You know these people?"

"Absolutely no idea," Kingsley said. "I'll have to check them, of course. To check that he hasn't made them up."

"Making up witnesses, who would ever do that?" Remus said lightly, but immediately turned serious again. "You know, I have a sneaky suspicion all these people are close friends of old Lucius. Perhaps you should ask Snape whether he knows anyone of them."

"Perhaps I should," Kingsley replied, taking the sheet of parchment again. "But I'm not sure whether he'll want to do that. The last time I asked for his help, he flat-out refused. Said he didn't want anything to do with anything even remotely related to Black."

"When was that?"

"Somewhere around July 1994, why?"

Remus laughed. "No, I can quite imagine him not wanting anything to do with Black then. But seriously, you should ask him, it's important. And I really think he knows at least half of these people."

"Why does he hate Black so much anyway?" asked Kingsley pensively. "What happened to cause that much hatred? They practically breathe fire to the other, if not kept in check."

"No, when they're not kept in check they'd murder one another. I don't know, actually, what exactly caused it. It began in the first weeks of our first year, and we weren't that close friends then. They were already hating each others guts when I began hanging out with them every waking minute."

"Excuse me, am I interrupting?"

Kingsley and Remus turned. There, in the opening of the cubicle, was a man standing. He was one of those completely nondescript, inconspicuous people you wouldn't look twice at. Remus imagined there had to be at least a dozen other men exactly like this man walking around the Ministry. The kind that obediently clocked in at nine in the morning, did his duty, went home at five in the afternoon to be at home in time for the dinner their fateful wife had made.

"Oh, no, of course not," Kingsley said hastily. "We were just talking."

"I'm sorry for the interruption," the man said courteously, despite just being told that he wasn't interrupting. That, Remus thought, was also typical for this kind of man; the endless stream of apologies, the behaviour that was always appropriate.

The man looked at Remus. "Excuse me, have we been introduced?"

"I don't think so," Kingsley said. He indicated Remus and was ready to say his name, when he remembered that introducing 'Remus Lupin' wasn't perhaps the smartest idea. Especially not to this man. "This is… Uhm. Snape."

Remus looked at Kingsley with a sort of horrified expression. Excuse me?

Kingsley sort of shrugged. It was the first name that had popped up in his mind. "John Snape. Erm, John, this is…"

"George Scimgeour," the man introduced himself. He shook Remus' hand. "Nice to meet you." He smiled. "Not related to the Hogwarts Professor, are you?"

"No, I'm not," Remus said, unable to hold back a slight shiver.

"Good," Scrimgeour said lightly. "My youngest has just began his first year, and I'm again getting letters with stories that I'd feel very uncomfortable repeating to you, if you were related to him."

Remus smiled for a few seconds. Scrimgeour already ignored him, and turned to Kingsley.

"I see you found what I put on your desk?" he asked, nodding to the sheet of parchment Kingsley was still holding. "I had wanted to give it to you personally, but you were gone before I could do it."

"I had to go home early," Kingsley said.

"Well, I tried to call at your home, but you weren't there either," Scrimgeour insisted.

"I had an appointment with somebody else," Kingsley said evasively. He had been at Grimmauld Place again.

"Ah," said Scrimgeour, unconvinced. He looked from Kingsley to Remus. "What did you say you were doing here again?"

"I didn't," Remus said.

"He's helping me with my search for Sirius Black," Kingsley interrupted.

"Ah, of course," Scrimgeour said. "I've seen you here before. I already thought I recognised your face."

Remus had the sudden feeling one gets when one realises one is being stalked. Not that it had ever happened to him before (save, perhaps, a quartet of Ravenclaw girls who had had a crush on him, that year when he was teaching), but still. He guessed Kingsley was feeling slightly creeped out too, because the Auror rather abruptly said "yes, thank you, John, that will be all." (It took Remus a few moments to realise that Kingsley was addressing him.)

It was obvious that Kingsley wanted him out of the way, so as not attract too many questions from Scimgeour. He'd have a hard enough time getting the inquiring man off his back anyway. So Remus kindly took his leave, walked towards the elevators, then wondered what he was going to do now.

Going back was not an option. Remaining in the Auror Headquarters would be too suspicious, he'd have to go somewhere else. But where?

The elevator arrived and the golden grille rattled back. Remus got in and pressed the button for the atrium. I can of course always go back to Grimmauld Place. Sirius'll be happy to see me.

The elevator zoomed softly as it took Remus downwards. He got out when he reached the atrium, then looked around. As usual, the big hall was buzzing with voices of people coming or going. There was a small queue in front of the desk of the watch-wizard. The water in the fountain of Magical Brethren rushed, and the golden figures on the ceiling did their eternal dance.

He was about to press on the button for the phone box that would take him to street level again, when somebody pulled his sleeve and excitedly said: "it is you!"

He looked to his right, then down. There was a small girl with blond hair tied in two plaids beaming up at him, her yellow eyes shining.

"Fay!"

One of the sunniest smiles he had ever seen appeared on her face.

"Mum said I was wrong," she said, "but I knew it was you!" She beamed, proudly. "I smelled you," she whispered.

"You smelled me?" he repeated, laughing. "Oh no." He theatrically sniffed his hands. "I washed only this morning!"

She stuck out her tongue. "Stupid."

She was changed, he noticed. Not only had she grown several inches, she also seemed more confident. Confident enough to call him stupid anyway.

Her mother joined them. She had just let her wand be checked by the watch-wizard.

"Coming, Fay?" she asked.

"Look, mum, look who it is!" Fay said, still holding Remus' sleeve. "See? I told you!"

"Remus!" Mrs Mills said. Remus was pleased to see that she was genuinely happy to see him. They shook hands.

"Is everything alright?" she asked. The look in her eyes told him that this question wasn't as simple as it seemed.

"Yes, I'm fine," he said.

"We read about, in the newspaper," she told him.

"Why were you in the newspaper?" Fay wanted to know.

"Because…" He looked at her mother, who almost unnoticeably shook her head. Fay was too young to be burdened with troubles like this. "Because I used to teach at Hogwarts."

She smiled. Of course, this was reason enough to be in the newspaper. Hogwarts was the height of cool. She had no idea yet how very unusual it was that a werewolf was even attending Hogwarts, let alone teaching there.

"And, what brings you here?" Remus asked.

Fay pointed at the badge pinned to her coat. Fay Mills, Werewolf Registry. "It's my birthday tomorrow," she said.

"Congratulations," he answered.

"Want to come along?" she asked.

"If you're not busy," her mother added quickly.

"Sure, I'll come, it's not like I have anything better to do at the moment."

They walked to the elevators. Fay excitedly skipped forwards and pressed the button. They waited for an elevator to clatter down, then got in with several other wizards and witches. Mrs Mills pressed the button for the fourth level.

The elevator was quiet for a few moments. The usual elevator-behaviour was displayed; people looked at the ceiling, at their feet, at the parchments their were holding. Fay smiled at Remus.

"Couldn't your father come?" he asked as their reached the sixth level.

"No, he had to work," she said.

"What kind of work does he do?"

"He works on an ambulance. Last week, there was somebody who had got under a train!"

"Fay!" her mother reprimanded.

"Well, it's true," she said defensively.

"That doesn't mean you should tell the whole elevator," she told her daughter sternly. The people around them grinned. They stopped at the fifth level, then the grille shut again and the elevator zoomed upwards again.

"Is Mummy taking you to work with her?" an elderly witch asked Fay in a rather patronising tone. Fay looked up and opened her mouth to answer.

"No, she's – " she began.

"Fourth level," Mrs Mills said quickly, as the elevator stopped. "Fay, are you coming?"

They wriggled themselves out of the elevator. Mrs Mills only relaxed when the box had disappeared again.

"What did I tell you about not telling other people?" she said.

"I'm sorry," Fay muttered, hanging her head.

"That's okay, dear," her mother said, pulling her closer into a hug.

"Ow, mum, no!" Fay fought herself free again. "Don't hug me!" Her mother laughed.

"Come on, let's go. I'll buy you ice cream afterwards."

"Yay!"

They walked to the Registry and went to stand in the queue that was always there. The room was filled with the noise of the animals people had taken here, to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, to be checked by a magical veterinarian. Remus had always found it a rather degrading experience to be standing in line with people bringing their pets to the veterinarian. As if he was going to ask 'hello, I need a vet. No, not for my pet, for myself'.

It took them ten minutes before they reached the front of the queue.

"I'm here for the Werewolf Registry," Mrs Mills said, quietly so that the rest of the queue wouldn't hear. "Fay Mills."

The witch behind the counter gave her the familiar form and a pencil. "Fill this in, then come back." Mrs Mills took the form, then the three of them went to find a vacant seat. Remus smiled when he remembered last year, when he had gone to the Registry himself and had met Lova, who was busy drawing over her form. Was that only a year ago? he wondered.

"Remus, we can sit here," Fay interrupted his thoughts. She pointed to two seats. Mrs Mills and Remus sat down, while Fay went to lean against Remus. Mrs Mills began filling in the form.

"Are they difficult questions?" Fay wanted to know.

"No, they're ridiculously easy," Remus said. "Like, where do you live, and things like that."

"Do they want to know that every year?"

"Yeah. Just so they know that you're still where they think you are."

She snorted. "Don't they think people will send them a note if they move somewhere else?"

"Apparently not."

"Stupid."

"Yep."

They watched in silence as Mrs Mills finished filling in the form, then they got up to return it to the witch behind the counter, who accepted it without a word. They walked to the elevator, and Fay pressed the button.

They were waiting for it to come down, when Remus saw, from the corner of his eye, a familiar person walk past. Romulus was talking animatedly with a young woman with brown hair in a plaid. She was just laughing over something Romulus had said, when he noticed his brother. He said something to the woman, who eyed Remus interestedly before nodding. She went on her way alone while Romulus walked towards the trio by the elevator.

"Finally," he said.

"What?" Remus said somewhat stiffly.

"Oh, nothing," replied Romulus airily, "except that Mum's begun writing obituaries."

"Oh, sod off," Remus said, annoyed. "I'm not dead yet."

"No, just unreachable. You might as well be dead."

"Who was that woman you were talking to?"

"A colleague. Don't change the subject."

"Hasn't it occurred to you that I might have a life of my own?"

"Has it occurred to you that we, as your dear family, might like to be a part of that life?" He nodded to Fay and her mother. "You going to introduce me?"

"This is Mrs Mills and her daughter Fay," Remus said shortly. "This is my brother, Romulus."

"How do you do," Romulus said courteously as he shook Mrs Mills' hand.

"Fine, thank you."

He shook Fay's hand too. Like Remus, he was of the opinion that one shouldn't treat children over the age of roughly five as babies. If they can shake hands, they thought, shake their hands. They'll only hate you if you pat their heads.

"What are you doing here?" Fay wanted to know. Her mother sighed at this direct question.

"I work here," Romulus said. "And you?"

"I don't," she said, half sticking out her tongue. She pointed at her badge.

"Ah," Romulus said. "So it's your birthday soon?"

"Tomorrow," she beamed.

"Congratulations," he said. He turned to Remus. "Can I have a word with you soon?"

"Sure," Remus said, although he didn't like to.

"Yes, we'd better go," said Mrs Mills. "Come, Fay."

"Enjoy your ice cream," Remus said. Fay smiled.

"I will."

"And I'll send you a birthday card of course," he promised. This earned him another smile.

"And a present too?" she inquired, greedy like all children. Remus laughed.

"I think you'll get enough presents from your parents," he said. "Now shoo, go!"

She waved as she got on the elevator with her mother, and he waved back. She was waving until she got out of sight.

"Cute kid," Romulus commented.

"Werewolf," Remus said dryly.

"I know. Still a cute kid though."

Remus sighed. "What do you want?"

"How're you?" Romulus asked, a worried frown on his face.

"Did Mum wanted you to ask that?"

"Yes, but I'm not asking it because she asked me."

"How do you think?"

"Bad, that's what I think. After that piece in the Daily Prophet."

"I'm touched by your concern, "Remus said sarcastically. "I suppose you had comments from your dear colleagues. About the monster you have for a brother."

"To tell you the truth, they didn't say that."

"They didn't?" Remus raised his eyebrows. "I'm surprised."

"Stop being sarcastic, or I will think I have a monster for a brother," Romulus said darkly. "Actually, they were quite sympathetic."

"Gee, why do I have trouble believing that?"

Romulus gave a desperate sigh. "I hate it when you're like this."

"Now imagine everybody in the entire world acting like this, and then you know what my life is like."

Romulus had nothing to say to this. After a moment or so, Remus did began to feel a little sorry for his brother. Not enough to apologise, but enough to continue the conversation.

"How's Mum?" he asked.

"Sharpening her knifes to kill Umbridge, of course."

Remus smiled. "Are you allowed to say that of your superior?"

"She's not my superior anymore, first of all, and secondly, just because I'm working at the Registry doesn't mean I should love Umbridge."

"Tell me, I'm curious despite myself. Is it enjoyable to kill werewolves?"

Romulus rolled his eyes. "God, I don't know who you hang out with nowadays, but you've got terribly immature. I haven't killed anybody, nor do I plan to, nor are we encouraged to kill them."

"Really."

"Yes, really. We only kill in absolute desperate situations, when we can't control the werewolf, or when he's attacking one of us and stunning is not an option, or when the werewolf is so hurt by angry villagers – it happens, you know – that killing him on the spot is kinder."

"You know, that sounds almost humane."

"It is, Remus. It is more humane than what some people want to do to werewolves. It might sound strange to you, but the Capture Unit looks kinder on werewolves than the average Joe. We know that you're only dangerous during the full moon. But out there – " He pointed to the elevators to make his point, " – there's a stereotype of you running around with a chainsaw, eating little children for breakfast."

"Tell me about it," Remus muttered.

"I hate to say it, Remus," Romulus said, "but you're as prejudiced about the Capture Unit as other people are about you."

Remus swallowed. He realised his brother was right. But he hated to admit it.

"Am I right?" Romulus asked.

"Hmm… perhaps."

Romulus smiled, not fooled. "Thank you. Just needed to hear that."

Remus glared. "But only this time."

"Of course, the rest of the time you are right. That's why you're the big brother and I'm the baby."

"Exactly."

"Coming back to my first question," Romulus said, turning serious again. "Where were you? Not that I want to come over for tea every Sunday afternoon, but every owl we send comes back with its letters unopened."

"Oh. Err…"

"Listen," Romulus patted his brother on the shoulder. "You don't have to tell me right away. Just tell me this. Is it anything dangerous?"

"No. Yes. Sort of."

"Illegal?"

Remus had to think about this for a minute. It was not strictly legal. But could the law Fudge represented be considered right? "It's… not exactly legal," he said carefully. "But it's good."

"Has it anything to do with the reason you're hanging around Kingsley Shacklebolt?"

"Yes."

"Can you die from it?"

"I can, yes," Remus said gravely.

"I already suspected that," Romulus sighed. "Will you tell me later what it is?"

"Yes, I will," Remus promised.

"Okay. Thanks. Now, want to come with me? I'll introduce you to all my colleagues. You'll like them. Especially Hazel, she reminds me a lot of you."

"Romulus…" Remus said softly, smiling a little.

"What?" said Romulus, realising what he had said. "That was only a slightly stupid suggestion."

"You know, I've been thinking it a long time," Remus said, "but this just proves it."

"Proves what?"

"That one of us is adopted. And I think it's you."

"Obviously," said Romulus. "And my parents are a king and a queen. I'm royalty."

"On second thought, I'm the one who's adopted."

"Remus, are you trying to steal my throne?"

"That's what brothers are supposed to do, aren't they?"

"He actually thought you'd like them?" Sirius asked, frowning.

"Well, yeah. Kept going on about this Hazel-person, until I began to fear that he was trying to hook me up with her."

"It's just wrong, you know. Liking the people at the Werewolf Capture Unit. It's like… it's like liking Snape!"

"I like Snape," Remus said softly. Sirius' eyes widened in horror.

"No you don't!"

"Well, sometimes."

"Exactly. You sometimes like Snape. You like him, what, five seconds every six months. You like him for five seconds until he says something ridiculous or insulting again, and then you're back to disliking him." Sirius gave a fake gasp. "Oh my God, Remus, you like Snapefor ten whole seconds a year!"

Remus rolled his eyes. "You know what Kingsley told me today?"

"That he likes Snape too?"

"Actually, he called me Snape today, but that's another story. No, he showed me a testimony by Lucius Malfoy, that you're not in Russia but in London."

This shut Sirius up. "Oh."

"Yes, oh. Apparently, he has decided to do something with the fact that he saw you at King's Cross. He gave a list with people who say they've seen you too, and Kingsley's now checking them, to find out exactly who they are."

"Death Eaters," Sirius said.

"Yes, that's why I'm afraid too."

"Shit," Sirius scolded. He kicked the kitchen table.

"And I suggested asking Snape whether he knows any of these people."

"I bet he does," Sirius said disgustedly, "if they're Death Eaters, Snivellus is bound to know them."

"Call him Snape, please."

Sirius sighed. "And I suppose I'm going to have to stay indoors?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. We can't risk you going out again."

"I suppose so." Sirius glared at the poor innocent table. "I can't wait until I get my hands on Peter again. I'll give him just enough time to tell the truth to anybody willing to listen, then I'll kill him. Slowly and very painfully."