AN: Don't get used to the longer chapters, it's an aberration, I'm sure.

Remus slumped in the seat, knowing that he still had about 25 minutes left of the ride before he disembarked and started his walk home. He'd spent the past couple of days apparating from location to location to talk with various muggle parents whose children were scheduled to receive their first Hogwarts letters next summer. It kept him busy, to be sure, especially since he didn't have regular full time employment and his only other option would involve many hours sitting and stewing in his own thoughts. He wouldn't say it was unimportant, the protection of the next generation of witches and wizards was certainly important, but he wouldn't go so far as to believe that he was the best person for the job either.

Occasionally, Dumbledore had some errand or another for him to carry out under the guise of order business, 'missions' he called them, but they were nothing more than glorified busywork. There was no reason to travel to Egypt, just to get a report from Bill Weasley when Bill was perfectly capable of catching a port key to London then apparate to the Burrow, and visit with his family to boot. Forays into Knockturn Alley for ingredients and 'special items' were equally unnecessary when Severus Snape could procure them through his established connection, and the exercise only opened the door to criticism from his childhood rival. The most recent round of liaisons with muggle families of potential Hogwarts students were something that Molly and Arthur Weasley would have been more capable in handling, particularly when, as a couple with students currently enrolled in school, they could empathize with parental shock and protective urges.

Which was not to say that he didn't feel the urge to protect. He was all for doing his part to keep others safe, but he'd rather do it in a way that he was best suited for, like surveillance. And that was the one thing Albus kept him away from, despite having the benefit of a keen sense of smell and hearing that was sharper than any other member of the order. He suspected that the Order's leader chose not to utilize him in such a fashion for fear of what he'd do if he encountered certain…people. And that was a term he used loosely when applied to the likes of Wormtail or Bellatrix Lestrange. He was torn between gratitude for being spared the stress on his self-control and frustration that his well-intentioned former headmaster doubted said self-control in the first place.

It wasn't as if Remus wasn't already most acutely aware of the Ministry's views when it came to werewolves and murder. Regardless of whether the victim in question was a confirmed Death eater or that the lycan in question was as grounded in the present and as mentally competent as any auror called upon to perform the same task, he would be treated as an animal, incapable of rational thought. Things were changing, but it was a slow process, they'd only recently relaxed full moon lock downs due to the creation of the Wolfsbane potion, and that particular potion had been around for a few years now. With the threat of Voldemort and his minions looming on the horizon, werewolf legislation changed at a pace similar to the dripping of tree sap in January, for all that it would be sweeter when certain laws were finally repealed, he could do without the wait.

Which circled his thoughts back neatly to the fact that he wasn't being allowed to help for the same reason that made him best adapted for the job. If he was honest with himself, he really wanted the opportunity to exact revenge on Bellatrix, and most especially on Peter, in a nice, cool level headed way so that he could prove to Dumbledore that he had self-control even in the face of such targets deserving retribution. He probably wouldn't feel so stir crazy if he had Sirius to keep him company, particularly when he was staying over at Grimmauld place. But that was not to be either… His reverie broke at the slowing of the bus, and when it finally halted in his hometown, he disembarked.

It was small, and close knit, what some folks might describe as 'sleepy', and geared more toward those of retirement age instead of the younger crowd. There were no nightspots, no frantic hustle and bustle, most of the shops didn't open until after noon on Sundays because most everyone went to church. It was quiet and reserved, it was home. He swept his gaze over the familiar buildings, noting that nothing had changed; the same people traversed the sidewalks, waving a casual greeting.

He mused on the fact that there used to be several Wizarding families living in the area. Nothing on the scale of Dublin or Brighton, but enough that his parents hadn't felt isolated when they moved here. As the years went by, more and more muggles moved into town. Rather than take precautions to hide the magical goings-on, it became more convenient to move into areas more densely populated with their own kind. He could sell the house that he'd inherited, but it held too many memories, and it needed some serious work before it would be marketable, besides which, he hardly wanted to go through the effort of searching for a new residence. The fact that the area was so quiet and private made him feel like this was his place in the world, a place to retreat when life got him down.

He maintained outward appearances, being a polite if reserved and soft spoken 'young' man, young being relative to the average age of the population. People assumed that he was some sort of traveling salesman, which explained why he often was shabbily attired, appeared tired and offered a plausible explanation for why he was often away for weeks at a time. The locals knew that he did not own an auto. So when Dumbledore called, or rather flooed with various tasks that would keep him away for days at a time, he'd pack his overnight bag and walk into town. Invariably, someone would see him, and eventually everyone would know that Mr. Lupin was on the road again. He would take the coach into the city, where he could apparate without notice. He'd stay at headquarters until he'd completed all his assignments, updating the headmaster before taking his leave, and it was back onto the bus, to return to his home in the same manner he left it, to sit at home until he was summoned again. Or until he found a side job to keep him busy in the interim.

Sometimes he disliked the façade he had to maintain, it would be easier by far to floo or apparate to the edge of his property where his wards ended. But it would draw questions if he were to mysteriously disappear and not answer his door if someone chanced by to call. Not that anyone did very frequently, but there were a few people who knew him, mostly widowed elderly ladies that he did odd jobs for, chopping wood, delivering groceries, occasional gardening, things of that nature. If people knew he was 'home' they expected him to walk into town at least once a week to shop or check the notice board. If he didn't make an appearance, one of the dear ladies would stop by to check up on him, and make sure he wasn't ill. It was comforting to know that someone was looking out for him, even in such a small way.

His feet made the turn off from paved road to the dirt lane without any conscious thought from him. Remus stopped thinking about the reasons why he walked instead of using magic and enjoyed the journey. Sometimes this leg of the trip was the most enjoyable part of going home because of the natural scenery. Brambles lined the ditches for a distance before changing into the carefully maintained screen of hedgerows that lined his property. He noted that they needed to be trimmed again before they started encroaching on the drive. He inhaled deeply, taking in the odors that came to his nose. There, the smell of mud and leaves still damp from the day before. There, the scent of late blooming wild roses. There, the sickly sweet aroma of decaying crab apples that sat too long on the damp ground. He noted that the neighbor had been riding his horses up and down the street again, not only could he see the fresh deposit amongst the hoof prints, but he could smell it and the lingering trace of equine and human presence, no more than a day or two old.

He turned a final time at the break in the shrubs, opening the wooden gate that was in need of a coat of whitewash. His eyes moved to the familiar mint green house at the end of the footpath. It was more like a cottage, being small and a bit cramped if there were more than three inhabitants at any one time. There were two bedrooms, a small study that was only slightly larger than a walk in closet, a kitchen with a breakfast bar instead of a kitchen table, and a sitting room with the fireplace as its central feature. There was also the basement that flooded every spring and fall, rendering it entirely unusable for storage, and the attic that had a small window just under the roof peak where swallows loved to nest. He supposed if he really wanted to, he could use magic to expand the space, provided he could remember the proper Arithmancy equations and incantations, but he didn't really need to as it was just him rattling about. It wasn't like he had frequent overnight visitors.

If he wanted company, he could slip off to the diner in town, and have the owners, Franklin or Ruth whip up a BLT and fry him some chips while listening to them talk about their children's trials and tribulations, or the current milestone each grandchild had recently achieved. Of course, the price for being in public and enjoying their company was the eventual questions on his own personal life, seeing as he had no children, the topic invariably turned to whether he was socializing or not, and when he was going to settle down with a nice woman who would feed him up and give him a reason to stay close to home. In an odd way, Ruth reminded him of Molly though she was rail thin with salt and pepper hair, and he'd never heard her raise her voice to chastise anyone to date. She meant well when she clucked over him like a mother hen.

Remus opened his front door, testing the air for anything out of place, listening for any noise that did not match up with the few expected sounds of his domicile. The phone was quiet, and he could hear the clock ticking merrily. The kitchen spigot was dripping sporadically, signaling that he'd forgotten to center the tap and swing the handle to the left. As he swung the door open, his ears picked up the whisper of paper scraping against the floor. He listened an additional minute, no tell-tale creaking present which would have alerted him to the possibility of an intruder, but he was convinced that he was alone, and all was normal.

He retrieved his mail from behind the door, finding four posts. He quickly identified the cream parchment with the blue seal as his standard post-moon missive from Hermione, the vellum with the distinctive green writing was from Dumbledore, which was odd, particularly when he noted that it was closed using the Hogwarts seal instead of his personal stamp. He smiled when he found not one, but two letters with an untidy scrawl that he was coming to recognize as Harry's hand, one addressed to Old Man Lupin, likely a jibe for calling the teen young in his own letter, the other simply marked as Remus.

He dropped into his armchair, lighting the fire with a wave of his wand, pondering the question of which letter to read first. It was foolish, but this was probably the most correspondence he had received at one time since his school days, and he almost felt pathetic at the notion that something so simple could inspire him to some level of excitement. His saving grace from foolishness was the philosophy that one should appreciate the simple things in life, and that he obviously needed some cheering up if letters from two teenagers and his old headmaster made him feel like Christmas had come early. Still, he allowed it to draw his mind away from some of his more oppressive memories.

Lupin opted to open Hermione's letter first, or rather the note. It was short; a total of five sentences if one didn't include the greeting or closing. It was also very blunt, which was unlike her. Typically she asked after his health, but only after a paragraph or two had been devoted to idle gossip or commentary about her studies and odd facts she had read, and even then she would dance around the subject of the full moon. Instead, this had the subtlety of a bludger to one's head, and the offhanded request for hexes was definitely not the norm. He wondered what had put her knickers in a twist. Had she fought with Ron or Harry? He didn't think it would have anything to do with Snape, as he was a teacher, and she would never retaliate against the Potion Master's biased treatment against her and her friends, especially after her own guilt from attacking said teacher in third year. She seemed to get on well with all of her other Professors, or at least that was the impression he got from her previous letters.

Perhaps he could dig up the information on the Pinocchio hex. It was something he and his friends had worked on, inspired by a fairy tale in a book borrowed from Lily for Muggle Studies. They'd manipulated an existing charm to only lengthen the nose when the hexed person used magic, so with every swish and flick, the body part would gain a millimeter in size. It wouldn't be noticeable the first couple of times, but eventually someone would notice. One could always use a simple engorgement charm, but it was more fun to cast the spell with a trigger so that the afflicted person wouldn't even be aware of being jinxed until later. It was also the key to not getting caught, particularly if said jinx was cast during a non-magical class like potions or herbology, or even during a meal.

On the other hand, after having the Weasley twins as resident pranksters for the previous six years, most students were expecting magical pranks, and it would be more surprising if she were to fall back on non-magical methods of exacting revenge. Something along the lines of a good old-fashioned itching powder, which wasn't embarrassing per se, but definitely annoying. If the person being pranked went to the hospital wing believing themselves to be hexed, nothing would appear out of the ordinary. 'Finite' wouldn't stop it, nor would cleansing charms, nothing but a good soaking in the tub with a liberal application of soap could cure the irritation. He would know, Lily of all people had come up with the idea, and slipped him the muggle powder to dust Sirius and James's clothing as revenge for some rather chauvinistic remarks. It was rather amusing when he thought about it, listening to the dark haired boys whine about the discomfort, especially Sirius who complained that the constant scratching was doing nothing for his sex appeal with the ladies.

Unfortunately, that particular form of retaliation would only work if she had access to the person in question, if it were someone from another house… Well, he'd have to give it some more thought, and perhaps she could work out the logistics if he just owled her with some suggestions, but it would keep until he'd read his other letters. He realized he was desperate for entertainment given that he was seriously pondering the best way for Hermione, of all people, to prank someone. Though he wouldn't send her any truly harmful ideas, he still felt that Padfoot and Prongs would have been proud of him for encouraging her instead of being responsible and dissuading her notions of revenge.

He laid her note down, exchanging it for Harry's correspondence, opening the 'Old Man Lupin' letter, figuring that it was the first one owled to him. The title itself caused him to chuckle, while he did feel old the day of the full moon and the day afterward while recovering from the change, he was still young by Wizarding standards. Actually he'd be considered early in his prime for all that he had a dusting of silver in his tawny hair, and that was thanks in large part to the stress of lycanthropy. At least he still had all his hair, and didn't need to resort to hair growth potions like some wizards, not that he was vain. Vanity had always been Sirius' thing. Thinking it best to steer away from those thoughts, he began reading Harry's letter.

Loony Loopy Lupin,

(Thanks to Peeves for that bit of name-calling) Thanks for your letter, it was rather a relief to hear
from you. Your perspective on my parents and Sirius are important to me since I never really had
much time with any of them. But your opinions are also valuable as well, and I don't want you to think
that the only reason I contact you is to find out about them. Dumbledore told me something about
dwelling on dreams and forgetting to live in first year, and I reckon it's the same thing for grasping at
memories. I want to know about them, of course, but I'd also like to have ties with someone who's
living too, if that makes any sense. So, in the interest of friendship, there's a Hogsmeade trip planned
for the third Saturday in November, I thought that maybe we could meet at the Three Broomsticks
around noon, if you aren't busy. If you do come, you might catch a glimpse of the newfound 'love'
of Ron and Hermione.

I imagine you are quite confused by that development, but I'll explain. The whole thing is quite funny
actually, some sort of diversion to keep the school gossips off the topic of the non-existent dating
that Hermione and I have been doing. (Wish someone had clued me in about THAT) She said she'd
think about it, and I think she'll do it since the rumors are getting to her.

Oh, and while on the topic of Herms, she thinks you're some sort of poet or something (hope you
don't mind that I let her read your letter) and she's happy because you gave her the opportunity to
say 'I told you so', which I will explain later. Anyway, it's after curfew, and it wouldn't due to fall
asleep in the greasy git's class.

In Friendship,

Harry

Remus folded the letter with a sigh. Dwelling on memories, hadn't he been doing that very thing over the past few months? Using his affliction as a shield against socializing, spending his evenings steeped in memories of his own time in school when he was running in the crowd with James and Sirius? For a teenage boy, Harry could be very insightful, even if he didn't know it. And at the same time, the letter definitely was full of enthusiasm. It sounded as though they would be trading a good many stories in…he checked the calendar…three days. And he could not help but smirk at the last line of the letter. If he were a professor, he'd take Harry to task for the disrespect to Snape, but still, the boy was entitled to his opinion, and Snape did appear to be rather greasy and acted like a git, so it was only the truth. He picked up the second of Harry's letters, judging by the date, it most likely had arrived yesterday.

Remus,

Had to use a school owl to send this, Hedwig only just returned, and I assume that you weren't at
home since she came straight back. Anyway, had to tell someone about this. Hermione has gone
completely round the twist! Last Friday she came charging into the common room talking to herself,
and then all but snogs Ron without any by your leave, not that he minded overmuch. But you know
Hermione, she usually sits in the corner with a book, all nice and quiet as you please, and tells anyone
off if they get too public with their displays. So then Saturday morning comes round, and she plops
down for breakfast like nothing happened, and she never commanded Ron to take her to Hogsmeade
in that tone she uses like she's the Queen mum herself!

But wait, it gets even worse! Sunday, she comes back from her rounds in a bit of a flap and practically
hauls me to the dorm and makes me dig out the sodding book Snape gave me last year. She kept going
on about being prepared or something. She's nutters, I swear. I know she writes to you, has she
mentioned anything?

Harry

P.S. Defense is a dead bore, wish you were still teaching.

He laughed outright for no other reason that Harry's obvious exasperation at his friend's actions. And to be honest, it really didn't sound like the girl he'd known three years ago, or even from last year for that matter. Clearly something was going on with her, though he couldn't offer any insight to Harry as to what it was. He'd have to wait and judge for himself on Saturday when he met up with the kids. Not enough time to get an owl through to confirm the time with Harry, perhaps he could floo the common room, provided Albus had unblocked all the fireplaces after Umbridge had been removed from power. Which reminded him that he had one last letter to read.

To Mr. R.J. Lupin,

We have a matter of business that is in need of your circumspect attention.
I will call upon you at seven p.m., Thursday the 14th to discuss the details.

Sincerely,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry

Now his curiosity was truly peaked. What did Dumbledore have in mind for him now that required him to make the request as the Headmaster? All the muggle families that he'd been meeting with were on behalf of the leader of the Order. The only thing that came to mind was the notion that perhaps the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher wanted a real werewolf to display for the class during the full moon. No matter how much he respected Albus, he was not going to degrade himself by allowing himself to be paraded around like some sort of freak. He had about two hours to clean up from the trip and dig out the tea service and hunt up some biscuits for the meeting.

Seven o'clock found him sitting in his chair, thumbing through a book of jinxes for something relatively harmless enough that he could owl Hermione with. This was a 'special' copy as it had handwritten notes in the margins and folded sheets of parchment with variations on traditional hexes as well as the results of certain spells and charms when combined. He supposed he could publish a book of pranks based on the Marauder's escapades; it would be a great companion piece to the Marauder's map. On the other hand, a true mischief-maker should be original and come up with their own jokes to pull on unsuspecting peers. Remus did consider making a copy of the book as a gift to Harry, a sort of tribute to his father and godfather, to be given after graduation, of course.

He registered the sound of the fire changing from the pleasant crackle to the soft whoosh that indicated someone flooing in. He set his book aside and watched as the Headmaster stepped out of the fire, only a slight wobble hinting at the many turns one had to take to reach his home via the network. The older wizard was dressed for his office in royal blue robes with the Hogwarts crest and a matching tall hat that were covered with soot until he cleaned them with a flick of his finger.

"Ah, Remus, how are you my boy? I don't suppose you would consider moving to a location closer to the school? I'm starting to find that the Floo Network is not a comfortable way to travel these days, at least, not for long distances. No? Very well, you're not here for long anyway. Is that Earl Grey? Absolutely smashing, I haven't shared a good cuppa with anyone since the last staff meeting, though I did entertain Miss Granger Sunday, but that was hot chocolate. I don't suppose you have a bit of brandy to doctor this up a bit, do you?"

Remus nodded and retrieved a small bottle of black current brandy from the kitchen, mulling over Dumbledore's string of social niceties. He almost felt like it was a social call with a great uncle or some such relative, save that it was actually a business call, or so the note had said. He shrugged with a sigh; the wizard would get to the point when he was ready. He settled back into his chair, finding that Albus had transfigured the matching seat into a recliner so that he could rock while still enjoying the extra cushioning that a rocking chair would not afford.

"I suppose you are wondering why I'm here," Albus said with a familiar twinkle in his eyes as he sipped from his cup.

"I confess that I had been quite curious since I'd only just come home and had been in contact with you on Saturday," the werewolf scrutinized the man sitting opposite of him. "It's not another errand is it? I really don't see why you don't have Molly or Arthur get in touch with these families; most of the parents are convinced that I'm due for a long stay in a padded room. I should be out there keeping an eye on potential targets or tracking death eaters…" Remus trailed off in frustration.

"Now, now, that's exactly what Tom would expect, particularly if Peter has divulged the connection between you and Sirius. He'd expect you to run out for vengeance; perhaps even let you exact it for a price. And even if you turned his offer down, he'd take the opportunity to remove you from Harry's support system, even go so far as to cage you until the full moon and possibly set you loose in wizard society, knowing that it is quite difficult to trap a werewolf once it's tasted blood. It would result in diverting the Ministry to quell the resulting werewolf prejudices and even strengthen the laws governing them while weakening the protection extended to muggles. You know this. It's best to bide our time."

"Yes, I know. Now what sort of matter do you have in mind that requires you to come as a school official?"

"As I mentioned earlier, I had a rather interesting conversation with Miss Granger. Our Defense teacher is quite competent this year and very focused on bringing all the students up to standard…"

"I certainly hope that you are not going to ask me to be on hand for a live demonstration for her lesson on werewolves," Remus commented dryly.

"Not at all my dear boy, that would be in poor taste, you aren't some oddity to be put on display. Bare with me, I'm getting to the point. Now, as I was saying, she's competent, but there are some students who are far ahead of the syllabus for their year."

"I have a letter from Harry mentioning that the class was a bit of a bore, I'm assuming that he's one of the students," Remus offered.

"Indeed, Miss Granger is another, and where those two are, Mr. Weasley is as well. Hermione and I had an interesting discussion about their preparedness for the future, and she feels that there is much more to be learned which Professor Pinderton is not offering in their lessons." Albus watched the younger man over his glasses.

Remus was a bit shocked, "You aren't suggesting that I come and teach classes again are you? The board would never allow you to re-hire a werewolf, I can only imagine the owls you must have received when I resigned."

"There weren't as many as you think, and those I did receive were mostly from the older pure-blood families. But no, I am not proposing that you teach regular classes. That would undermine the good Professor and segregate the students if there were two distinct defense classes; we are still trying to promote school unity you know. Rather I was thinking of more of a mentorship, you've all ready lived through one rise and fall Voldemort."

"You want me to mentor Ron, Harry and Hermione? To teach them what to expect from death eaters? Are you sure I'm the right person to do this?"

"I believe they could learn a fair bit of knowledge from someone who managed to keep the secret of unregistered animagi's in the school from me, yes. You'll also teach other students as time goes by, though probably not until next year. I'm thinking that the school will send out waivers with the Hogwarts letters over the summer so that parents can choose whether it's appropriate for you to tutor their children or not. For now, my primary concern is with Harry and his eventual role against Voldemort as well as his friends." The wizards face became quite serious. "They must learn all aspects, particularly the darker facets, to expect anything from a fanatic who truly believes in the rubbish of pure blood being superior. You are familiar with how aurors are trained, even if you never became one, and Harry is going to need your knowledge and support."

"I can do it, but they are only children Albus." He shifted in his seat, a bit put off with what he was being asked to do, they were only 16, and deserved to enjoy their teenage years.

"Remus, you know they haven't been children since the end of term last year, and even before then for all that I did not want to admit it. They've already gotten a taste of what is coming. It would be a disservice to them if we didn't give them the tools they need for survival. I want you to be reasonable, but don't coddle them, Voldemort surely wouldn't. As I pointed out, Hermione broached this topic with me, perhaps not in detail, but it was on her mind. She is quite determined that they all make it out of this war alive."

"She is quite a young woman. If anyone will push the boys into working harder, it would be her. You are right; they haven't been children for a while now. I assume that this mentoring is to be kept somewhat secret? They aren't suddenly going to drop Defense against the dark arts to make time for this? Am I going to be forced to skulk through the halls for clandestine meetings?"

"At present time, they will maintain their current classes. Perhaps later it will benefit the Order if we arrange for Riddle to learn that they dropped that course of study, but for now we will keep up pretenses. You will arrive in December and stay as a guest of the school, which will allow you access to the students. I'll arrange for one of the guest rooms near the Gryffindor tower to be prepared. Of course, Hogwarts will pay you a modest stipend for your services, but most of the students and staff are not to be aware of it for now, so you will be spared staff meetings, but will have to endure some of Professor Snape's more acerbic comments about your status in life."

"Yes, well, I've become accustomed to it when he brings me the Wolfsbane potion, he wouldn't be Snape if he didn't sneer at me frequently."

"Eventually the two of you will have to come to terms with this childhood grudge, there may come a time when you will need each other's help. Don't scoff, you are supposed to be on the same side of the war you know, even if you can't acknowledge it in public, it would be nice if you made peace in private. And since I've just suggested one near impossible task, I'll give you another. I'd appreciate it if you could use your influence with Miss Granger, as a fellow scholar, to try and convince her to drop one of her classes or she's going to be quite frazzled by the end of the year, I'm afraid."

"She isn't taking a full schedule is she? Surely she's dropped at least History of Magic." The headmaster shook his head. "I'll do my best, though I've got the impression that harmony with Snape would be more attainable of the two goals." Remus laughed, "At least I'm spared the duty of explaining to muggles, who only have an inkling of what it means to have a magically-inclined student, the potential danger of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I've had to defend my sanity a great number of times because of you."

"I have another job for you," Dumbledore corrected with a chuckle, "Your task between now and December is to visit the Dursleys and the Grangers and convince them to sign these." He handed over two scrolls that were, Remus assumed, consent forms.

"You've all ready secured Molly's permission?" he questioned.

"No, not yet, I think I may approach Arthur, he's more level headed about things of this nature when it comes to his family."

"Coward."

"Gryffindors are brave, not suicidal," Dumbledore remarked, which garnered a snicker from Remus. "I would never presume to tell dear Molly that her son is growing up, nor that her daughter is in need of the same sort of training, but I think I can put that off for a bit at any rate."

"At least I've all ready met the Grangers having convinced them to let their daughter to go back to the school, though the Dursleys… Are you sure you wouldn't rather take care of them?"

"You have a little over two weeks before I will expect you at the school, what else would you possibly do with your time? I would never presume to take that challenge away from you," the headmaster replied, a hint of mischief in his tone.

"I should have known you would impose upon my last bit of free time I had between now and then. I do have plans to meet with Harry during the Hogsmeade visit. In fact, if you would do me the service of playing messenger and forward this to him, I would be grateful."

"Of course. Don't tell him about coming to Hogwarts, I think I would like for it to be a bit of a surprise. Now, if you will excuse me, the hour is growing late, and I still have a meeting with the head boy and head girl this evening. Thank you for the tea, it was quite marvelous, you'll have to tell me where you found that particular brandy, it is quite tasty. I think it would go well with the scones Dobby whips up for me. Please owl me if you run into any troubles. I would suggest you floo your things to Grimmauld, and I'll have them transferred to the school when your room is ready. Thank you for your time," and with that, the headmaster was gone.

Remus was left with his thoughts as he puzzled this new turn of events. With a smile, he started planning what items and supplies he would need in order to 'mentor' the Trio. It would be good to be back at the school, it was a comforting place, making one feel safe within its walls. He'd be able to more closely associate with Harry without waiting for the owl to fly between Hogwarts and his home, and it was also a reprieve from the busy work Dumbledore had been assigning him lately. This was definitely something useful for him to be doing, even if he was leery of teaching them about the dark arts, but the headmaster was right, they need to be prepared for anything.

AN: A huge thanks to my reviewers, Rane2920072, and Raspberri13 your comments make me smile and give me warm fuzzies that I'm not completely screwing up the story. Hopefully you guys will continue to enjoy it

A big thank you goes to Elbereth Gilthoniel for reading and reviewing all the chapters in close to one go. I thought my email was spammed with review alerts, which made my day! Thanks for reading even though this isn't a R/H story, I don't think I could write the pairing because I know that JKR has plans for them. In response to chapter 7's review, I'm American too, and I know that most students aren't as extreme as I had them depicted, I like to think that the DADA professor is letting a few 'bad eggs' color her opinions on the American culture as a whole, wrong though she may be.

A huge thank you to BrennaM, who didn't review, but worked with me on a very evil event for later in the story. Truly, in light of her diabolical side I'm not sure I am fit to be writing the prequel, she's a very inspiring muse and a tough act to follow...or is it lead into? I just wish she would update soon!