Hi everyone! Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews, they make my day. They'll especially make me feel better today and tomorrow as I contemplate the beginning of a new semester. (Help!) I hope you enjoy this next part and I hope this update came soon enough, jojo.

Part Two

Sirius:

The footsteps and hushed murmurings faded into silence. They were gone. I stared at the vacant spot where Remus had been lying only minutes earlier, my eyes focusing on the pinkish vomit. It seemed almost abstract, like something from another lifetime…

I most likely would have stayed like that, gazing unblinkingly into space, for an indefinite amount of time if it hadn't been for James. "Sirius," he said.

I forced my eyes to follow the sound of his voice. He and Peter were standing in the far corner of the room, no doubt having moved there to avoid being run into and discovered. They both looked as confused and shaken as I felt.

"What, exactly, was all that about?" he asked as he folded up his Invisibility Cloak.

I scoffed. "Am I supposed to know?"

"Remus is closer to you than he is to anyone," Peter pointed out the obvious. "He would have told you if he'd–"

"If he'd what?" I snapped, venting my maelstrom of emotions on the first available victim. "Murdered someone? Remus did not do this – whatever happened, it wasn't him!"

"–if he'd known he was in trouble," Peter finished, sounding defiant and looking to James for support.

"I think that Remus was just as surprised as we were," James interjected smoothly. "We're not going to figure out anything by staying here. Let's get back to the common room. In the morning, when people start waking up, we'll see if anyone knows what happened to Evelyn."

"Yeah," I agreed moodily, almost not wanting to learn what had occurred while we were off gallivanting through the Forbidden Forest.. Why did they suspect Remus? Was it simply because he was a werewolf? "Let's go."

"I can't believe that no one has heard anything!" I wearily allowed myself to fall onto my bed. An announcement had been made early this morning that had sent all sorts of rumors flying back and forth. The common room was abuzz with speculation as to why all students were confined to their house dormitories and why Quidditch had been canceled but there was no talk of Evelyn being murdered. Apparently, whatever had happened was being kept very quiet.

"Lily doesn't even know about Evelyn. Do you reckon I should tell her?" James asked, leaning back against his dresser.

Evelyn was a seventh year in Hufflepuff. She was also Lily's best friend. "Not until we know exactly what happened. Besides, she'll want to know how you know that Evelyn's dead. What are you going to tell her? That you overheard it while hiding under an Invisibility Cloak so that the Minister of Magic wouldn't see you as he arrested Remus?"

James shrugged. "I need to tell her something. Sooner or later she's bound to notice that Evelyn's missing."

Honestly, what did it matter? Remus had been arrested and my imagination was all too eager to provide images of what the Ministry might be doing to him. There were very few laws protecting werewolves. A simple interrogation could easily turn into something else if the people asking the questions were ignorant bigots. I sighed. There were very few people who weren't ignorant bigots when it came to accepting werewolves. It was more important to discover why they thought Remus had killed Evelyn than to explain said murder to Lily.

"Does the Ministry of Magic have some sort of screwed up policy of arresting every local registered werewolf every time there's a crime?" Peter asked.

"No," I answered immediately. "Even they aren't that prejudiced. They only do that if–" Oh my God. I was an idiot for not having thought of it before. The only reason they'd arrest Remus for a murder they didn't have proof he had committed was if that 'murder' had been the result of a werewolf attack. "Evelyn wasn't murdered!" I exclaimed.

"Did I miss the news bulletin that just announced that?" James asked skeptically.

Shaking my head, I stood up and began pacing back and forth. "She was killed by a werewolf. Think about it. Whenever an unidentified werewolf commits any sort of crime, all werewolves in the area are arrested until they discover who the perpetrator is. Evelyn no doubt was killed somewhere near the castle. Remus is a registered werewolf – probably the only one at or near Hogwarts – so they automatically took him into custody."

Before either of them could answer, Professor McGonagall's voice resounded throughout the dormitory. "All classes for the remainder of the week have been canceled. Students are to remain in their house dormitories at all times except for when meals are served in the Great Hall. Thank you."

"Well. This is shaping up to be quite a day. Evelyn's dead. Remus' been arrested. And classes have been canceled," James said, voice tired. In the seven years we had been here they had never canceled classes. Of course, in the seven years we had been here no one had ever been killed either.

If Evelyn really had been killed by a werewolf then we needn't worry about Remus. We had been with him all night. He hadn't killed anyone. He'd tell them as much when they gave him Veritaserum.

It certainly sounded reasonable in my head.

My eyes drifted to Remus' empty bed. Something told me it wasn't going to be that simple. How could it be? Nothing regarding the Ministry and werewolves was reasonable. We were dealing with the same organization that would perform a Dementor's Kiss on a werewolf that converted another person. Did I honestly expect them to treat him at all fairly?

"James," I spun to face him, "What are we going to do?"

He frowned. "Do? There's nothing we can do, Sirius. Except wait."

Wait? He expected me to wait? Remus was in prison and he expected me to wait. I wasn't going to wait to be told what had happened last night. James and Peter could do that if they wanted to. I wasn't going to wait and see what the Ministry did with Moony.

Letting out a choked cry of frustration, I hit the mattress with my fist. While I had many skills, waiting wasn't among them. That was why, when James snuck off to find Lily, and Peter disappeared to keep an eye on what was being said in the common room, I determined to figure out everything I could about Evelyn's death. Grabbing my best friend's Invisibility Cloak and snagging the Marauder's Map, I used one of the many secret passages we had discovered to leave the dormitory unnoticed.

I suppressed a sigh. Dumbledore was pacing. Again. He had arrived in his office over a half hour earlier. Instead of calling in Professor McGonagall to discuss the situation he had passed the time by intermittently sitting next to the fire or walking back and forth in front of it. This was pointless! I had thought – obviously mistakenly – that if I trailed the Headmaster I would learn something important. Instead, he had returned to Hogwarts only to shut himself in here to…contemplate.

Dumbledore came to a stop and slowly turned away from the fire. He was gazing in my direction, towards the… Wait. Was he looking directly at me? I tensed, almost imperceptibly. It was unsettling to have his avid blue eyes fixed on me from behind his half moon spectacles. It was almost as if he could see me.

An amused sort of smile fluttered across his lips. Then he turned away and I relaxed slightly, feeling foolish. Of course he couldn't see me. An Invisibility Cloak would hardly be useful if you were still visible and I hadn't made so much as a whisper since following him in here.

"Evelyn Milay's body was found by Hagrid just outside the Forbidden Forest," he announced as he reclined in the armchair by the fire. "It was shortly after moonrise. Hagrid, of course, immediately brought it to my attention. Upon determining that she was killed by a werewolf I contacted the Ministry of Magic."

My eyes swept over the room. There was no one else here. Who was he talking to? He had always seemed a bit…mad but this was rather peculiar, even for him.

"A team of investigators – led by the Minister of Magic, no less – was sent to confirm my findings," he continued as if he frequently had conversations with no one. "Which they did, of course. Having already come prepared with a list of all registered werewolves in the vicinity, they demanded to know where Remus was confined during the full moons. He, as you might suspect, is the only registered werewolf for this area."

'As you might suspect'. As who might suspect? He wasn't…talking to me, was he? He had seemed to be watching me, though. And that smile, just before he had sat down and begun telling me exactly what I wanted to know… He could see me. He was talking to me.

Idly, I wondered if I should remove the Invisibility Cloak. It seemed a rather pointless endeavor, after all.

"Despite my attempts to convince them to wait until after moonset, they insisted on entering the Shrieking Shack and taking Remus into custody as quickly as possible." It was strange for Dumbledore to be speaking into the fire. One might have thought he was talking to it. "Surprisingly, Remus was not there." Of course Remus hadn't been there. He'd been with us. They didn't know that though and it was a pretty damning piece of evidence against him. "This, in the mind of the Minister, ceiled the case. Obviously – at least it seemed obvious to him – Remus had found some way to escape and had come across the unfortunate Ms. Milay."

"More investigators were immediately called over from the Ministry to begin an extensive search of Hogwarts. It was just after moonset when one of them noticed that the Whomping Willow's branches were immobilized. This prompted us to renter the Shrieking Shack to see if, by some miraculous chance, Remus had returned. Which," he paused, "he had."

Oh no! Peter! Peter had scurried to the trunk of the Whomping Willow and pressed the notch that froze its deadly branches. Obviously, he had forgotten to press it again after we had all entered the secret passageway.

"I needn't explain what occurred once Remus was located." No, of course not. I very clearly remembered his humiliating arrest. "Once Remus was secured in the Werewolf Confinement Center at the Ministry, I convinced the Minister to give him Veritaserum, which is not normally used in these cases. Unfortunately, Remus' responses did not clear him."

What? Remus couldn't have killed Evelyn! James, Peter, and I had been with him throughout the entire night, if he had attacked someone we would have noticed!

"However, they did not condemn him either," Dumbledore added after a beat of silence.

What was that supposed to mean? Remus had either killed her or he hadn't. What could he have possibly said under the influence of Veritaserum that would prove neither his innocence nor his guilt?

"Since his responses were no less than ambiguous, I convinced the Minister to investigate the possibility of having captured the wrong werewolf. I was about to argue that Remus be released until his guilt could be ascertained when the Minister was called away on urgent business to Romania."

Professor Dumbledore abruptly rose to his feet. Briskly, he walked across the room. "I was assured he would return this afternoon. At that time, I will insist that Remus be released to Hogwarts. If someone – say a friend of his – would like to accompany me, he should know that werewolves in custody are allowed one visitor daily. He should also be aware that the Ministry will not have clothed or fed Remus." Having said this, Dumbledore promptly left his office, whistling as he went.

When I returned to the dormitory, via a secret passage, James and Peter were not there. According to the map, they were in the common room with Lily and about half of the Gryffindor house. I set the food I had snagged for Remus on my bed. Then I grabbed him a change of clothes and put those on my bed as well.

What else would he want? Oh yes, of course. I approached Remus' nightstand, pulled out my wand and cast a small revealing charm. As I had suspected, my friend's journal appeared. I was about to add that to the things I was going to bring him when I thought better of it. What if the guards took it from him? What if they humiliated him by reading it aloud? Better to simply give him some parchment and a self-inking quill. He could copy whatever he wrote into his journal later.

Setting the journal back where it had been I re-cast Remus' concealing charm.

What else? He'd be able to change, eat, and write if he wanted to. My eyes fell to the book that Remus had left on his pillow. I smiled when I saw what it was. The Hobbit. Knowing that my friend had greatly enjoyed the Lord of the Rings series, I had given him its prequel for his birthday, as well as a new set of the trilogy because his copies belonged to his parents and were falling apart. He had been delighted as well as surprised that I had remembered his love for Muggle fantasy.

I placed the book on top of his clothes. Then I carefully packed everything I was taking to Remus inside a daypack. The Ministry no doubt had strict policies regarding what visitors could and couldn't give to confined werewolves. Deciding that it was better to not take any chances, I cast a word-activated concealing charm on the pack. 'Padfoot' would trigger its invisibility and 'Moony' would make it visible again. That way Remus would be able to keep it hidden from the guards.

I sighed.

It was the day after the full moon. Instead of resting or at the most, attending classes, he was in prison. With any luck, Dumbledore would get Remus released into his custody. What about the murder charges, though? If Remus couldn't clear himself with Veritaserum then how else would he be proven innocent? I'd gladly testify on his behalf but what could I say that he probably hadn't already? Madness or no, he could remember the full moon as clearly as I did – if he wanted to.

I sighed again. Midday meal would be served soon. I wasn't hungry. Or rather, I was hungry but didn't feel like eating.

Getting up, I spread the Invisibility Cloak around myself. I needed to go for a walk.

Without meaning to, I found myself in exactly the same spot I had been standing just before moonrise. Like then, it did nothing to erase my worries. If Remus was found guilty, he'd be executed. He wouldn't even get a trial. He'd–

I was relieved when the sound of a door slamming interrupted my thoughts. Looking down the long line of trees towards Jeremy's hut, I saw my friend making his way to the castle. He didn't seem very animated, though. Usually, he went about his everyday duties as if he had a boundless supply of energy. He was always cheerfully running or jogging his way around Hogwarts. For the first time since I'd met him, he seemed troubled and weary.

Realizing that a distraction from worrying about Remus would be a good thing, I decided to figure out what was bothering my American friend. "Jeremy!" I shouted.

Jeremy came to a halfhearted stop and turned around.

Trying to appear unperturbed, I smiled and waved.

A confused frown wrinkled Jeremy's forehead. Shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders, he continued on his way.

That was odd. He acted like he didn't even see me! Groaning, I very nearly slapped my forehead. That was because he couldn't see me. I was still wearing the Invisibility Cloak. "Brilliant, Padfoot, simply brilliant," I mumbled disparagingly. "Poor fellow probably thinks he's losing his mind."

Silently, I debated whether to remove the cloak and catch up with him. It most likely wouldn't be a good idea. If a professor saw me out here I'd be in trouble. Normally, that wouldn't concern me but the last thing I needed was to not be able to go with Dumbledore to the Ministry because I was stuck in detention with McGonagall.

Speaking of which, it was well past midday and Dumbledore had said he'd return to the Ministry in the afternoon. I needed to be in the dormitory when the Headmaster came looking for me. He was, after all, doing me a favor by allowing me to go with him to see Remus.

Werewolf Registration and the Werewolf Confinement Center, as it turned out, were not on the same floor. The latter was located underground on the lowermost floor of the Ministry of Magic. One couldn't even arrive there by using a lift. After passing through security and registering my wand, Dumbledore had directed me to a rather obscure and well-hidden staircase and instructed me to follow it all the way down. He had then excused himself to go speak with the Minister.

After descending an interminable number of steps, I had arrived in a small lobby. Near the entrance was a sign that read: WEREWOLF Confinement Center. Curiously, I noted that there weren't any doors in the lobby, except for the one I had just entered through. Where, exactly, was the prison?

On the opposite end of the room was a small desk. Sitting in it was a man who appeared to be thoroughly immersed in a book. He was young – probably no older than twenty-five – and very thin. He had buzzed brown hair and large yellow eyes that reminded me of those of a cat, of a predator. I didn't know why – he hadn't even said anything – but I automatically took a disliking to him.

"Excuse me," I addressed him as I approached the desk, "I'm here to see Remus J. Lupin."

"What?" the young man drawled without setting his book aside or even looking up.

"Remus. J. Lupin," I repeated very slowly through gritted teeth.

"What's his registration number?" he asked, sounding bored and completely uninterested in helping me.

Registration number? As in, werewolf registration number? How was I to know? It wasn't as if, on the train to Hogwarts, Remus had introduced himself with: 'Hello, I'm Remus Lupin. I'm a registered werewolf. In case you should ever need to visit me in the Confinement Center, my registration number is 1785-99.'

"I don't know," I said, wanting to seize the man's book and throw it across the room.

"I'm not given any of their names. Only their numbers," he stated as he flipped a page.

This man was infuriating. How could he not have their names? Even animals in zoos had names! Thunderscales – the famous one-winged dragon – was never referred to as Norwegian Ridgeback 784!

"He was brought in early this morning by–" I stopped short when I realized he was gleefully ignoring me. Leaning over the desk, I grabbed the book from his hands, shut it, and slammed it down hard. "Listen to me," I grated at the startled wizard, "I'm here to visit the werewolf that was arrested this morning and you will take me to him even if I have to hex you."

"All right, all right," he held up his hands and climbed to his feet, "No need to get ugly. I'll let you see your murdering friend. First…"

This was unbelievable! Were Dumbledore and my friends the only wizards alive that had any sense at all? "He is not a murderer," I interrupted icily.

He gave me a strange look but decided to let my comment pass. "First, you must sign in here," he indicated a piece of parchment that had been stuck on my end of the desk. Bending over slightly, I saw that I was expected to print and sign my name, indicate the time of my arrival and departure, and detail the nature of my visit.

After filling everything out, I looked up at the obnoxious wizard expectantly.

He grinned falsely, sending a chill down my spine. He wasn't as inept as he led on. A gleam in his eyes told me he was really quite alert and calculating. "You must also check your wand. You may recollect it on your way out."

Reluctantly, I parted with my wand. The man took it and placed it inside one the desk's many drawers. Then he turned around and approached the wall directly behind his desk. Taking out his own wand, he tapped the wall several times in what seemed to be entirely random places. He murmured a few words that I couldn't make out and tapped the wall a few more times.

There was no gradual shifting or fading of concrete beams. The wall was entirely solid and then, suddenly, it wasn't. Instead, a door had appeared. On the door, in glowing red letters, it read: Werewolf Confinement Center Cells 01-50.

Lowering his hand, he opened the door. As he entered, he looked over his shoulder and said, "Well don't just stand there, come on!"

Sighing in irritation, I walked around his desk and followed him through the door, which disappeared behind us, leaving only a wall.

Before I could even take in my surroundings, I was struck by a fowl, pungent odor that nearly made me gag. It smelled like…shit. Like a centuries old bathroom where the toilets didn't flush, one that had never been cleaned. It was nauseating. The stench was so strong that it made my eyes sting as I tried not to choke.

By the time I got used to the odor, my head was throbbing.

Too revolted to form coherent thoughts, I examined the Confinement Center. We were standing on one end of a long, narrow passage that had a row of cells on either side. From where we were I could only see into the first couple of them. Each one appeared to be no bigger than a twin size bed and contained nothing on which the prisoners could sit or sleep. Just a floor. And a medium-sized bucket. I felt like throwing up when I realized what it was for.

No wonder it stank.

It was filthy. Everything was filthy. At some point the cells had probably been a sterile white. Now, they were stained in different shades of brown. Coagulated beads of moisture ran down the walls. In places, the paint was pealing. There were pools of dried blood on the floor and trails of crimson on the lower half of the walls, as well as what looked like claw marks.

They had to endure transformations in here. In a room that wasn't a sixth of the size of the Shrieking Shack. Remus' full moons had been horrible when he was alone, confined in that wretched place. He had torn everything in it to shreds and had always turned on himself. For these werewolves, confined here…it was unimaginable. In wolf form they'd hear each other's howls and practically kill themselves trying to get to one another.

The man was speaking and walking. He was already a good twenty feet in front of me by the time I realized. I forced myself to follow him, forced myself to move. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. I wanted to focus on him, wanted to focus on what he was saying, but I couldn't. I couldn't keep my eyes from examining the cell as we passed them.

Now, I was seeing what perhaps, before, my mind had kindly blocked out for me. The people. The poor people who were trapped here. Were they people? I found myself wondering that in an entirely different manner than the rest of the wizarding world, which seemed to loathe werewolves. Were they people or were they ghosts? They looked like ghosts. They looked like skeletons.

Some of them, the ones who had obviously been here less time, were skinny. The rest… The rest were more than skinny. They were like an outline of bones with sunken flesh attached to it. Flesh that was riddled with old scars and fresher looking claw marks. Many of them had purplish bruises covering their stomachs and sides, or black eyes and split lips. As if… I swallowed. As if they had been beaten.

That wasn't the reason they looked like ghosts, though. They looked like ghosts because it seemed like there was no spirit left in them. It seemed like this place had sucked the life out of them. They had nothing left. Only despair. Their blank, wandering eyes didn't even posses the smallest glimmer of hope. They weren't people. They were the shell that was left once the soul was destroyed. The broken shell.

Oh God. What was this? What was this place? Hell on earth. A Dementor short of Azkaban. This was more sickening than anything I had the capability to imagine. This was… I couldn't even describe the atrocity that this was. If I hadn't already known that werewolves were executed or given a Dementor's Kiss for killing or biting people, I wouldn't even have believed that this was real. I would have thought it was a nightmare the likes of which I had never before endured.

"Why – Why are they here?" someone asked, voice dry and strained. My voice, I realized dimly. My question. I had spoken without even being aware of it.

"They've been deemed a danger to society," he answered as casually as if he was discussing something as bland as the weather. "Personally, I think the whole lot of 'em should be here. Or, better yet, in Azkaban. Azkaban only gets the ones that have killed more than one person. The Dementors get the ones that have bitten people. We get the ones that have committed any other sort of crime. We also hold the murderers until they are executed, sent to prison, or soul-sucked."

My fists clenched until my blunt nails were digging into my palms. I wanted to pummel him. I wanted to throw him to the ground and just punch and kick him until he was a bloody mess. He was so narrow-minded. He was so intolerant. I wanted to hurt him so badly. Don't. Don't do it, I told myself. It was more important to visit Remus than it was to get myself kicked out of the Ministry for sending one of its employees to the hospital.

"How long do you hold them here?" I tried my best to keep the hate from marring my tone but it was still dangerously malevolent.

"Oh, just until they're too old and feeble to cause any damage." He sounded regretful, as if he thought they should be here forever.

I tried to sort it out in my mind. A werewolf was convicted of petty theft. Instead of getting the punishment any normal witch or wizard would receive, he'd be thrown in here for a good portion of his life. How grand. What was wrong with the Ministry of Magic? They were the ones that deserved to be locked away like this, for enforcing such barbarism

"Do you ever–" I searched for the right words, "–clean them up?"

He shot me a look over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. "We hose them off every once in a while."

'Hose them off?' Like dragons? Like animals?

I focused on the werewolves again. This time I noticed something I had missed before. There were no bars. There was nothing but air separating the cells from the passageway. What in the world was keeping these people imprisoned?

"Er…why aren't there any–"

"Energy fields," he interrupted me, as if he knew what I was going to ask and had been expecting it. "We use energy fields instead of bars. They zap anyone who touches them."

"Right!" I erupted bitterly, "So, on the full moons when they're in wolf form and are throwing themselves against walls and tearing themselves to pieces, they also get the added torment of a zapping energy field."

He looked back at me again, frowning. It was as if he couldn't believe I was outraged by this. "They're only werewolves," he reminded me.

I bit back my furious reply. It's not worth it, I told myself. Just hold your tongue.

He came to a stop in front of me. "Here we are. Prisoner thirty-three."

Thirty-three? Was that all? It seemed as if we had been walking down this hallway for an endless period of time. It seemed as if we had passed hundreds of cells, not just over thirty.

I walked forward until I was standing in front of the same cell that this despicable man was peering into. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and shifted to look inside it.

There, huddled into a filthy corner, was Remus.