"Hearing Number 6583965, of Remus Lupin vs. the Ministry of Magic, August 17. Please be seated."

Remus alone remained standing, in the center of the room. He tried to straighten his tie; he had not owned anything decent of his own – most of his better clothes were purloined from Sirius' old things. His suit did not quite fit – he was thinner than Sirius had been – but he thought he looked reasonably presentable. After all, this wasn't a trial; they couldn't convict him of anything?

Yeah, right, he thought, staring at Dolores Umbridge's smug face out of the corner of his eye.

Griselda Marchbanks stood and read of a slip of paper, addressing him.

"You are Remus Joshua Lupin, of 1722 Earlscourt Road, am I correct?"

Remus nodded.

"There is nothing listed here under Occupation – are you employed?" she asked, looking down her spectacles at him.

Remus said clearly, "I am a Ministry-trained Auror."

He waited for the rebuttal; it came.

"Hem, hem," Umbridge coughed. Mrs. Marchbanks turned to her.

"Madam Umbridge?"

"The Ministry has had no record of a Remus Lupin working as an Auror for the past three years," she said in her girly falsetto voice. "I have it on good authority that the defendant and others of his ilk have disbanded from the Ministry and have formed a law enforcement group unto themselves."

"That isn't true!" Remus protested.

Rufus Scrimgeor rose, one hand lifted. "I would like to ask the defendant how he makes his income. Mr. Lupin?"

"Four years ago, I took a position at Hogwarts as the Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher," Remus replied.

"Which you were fired from at the end of one year," Umbridge whispered audibly.

"Objection!" came a voice.

The new headmistress of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall, newly-appointed to the Wizengamot, stood up. Remus felt a wave of appreciation; here was someone credible who would be sure to back him up.

"Remus Lupin chose to resign at the end of one year of teaching for various reasons which he did not disclose to Professor Dumbledore or any members of staff," she said loudly. "I have the paperwork here to prove it," here she held up a thin file and passed it to Griselda Marchbanks, who looked it over approvingly.

Umbridge looked furious.

"Isn't it true," she asked, "that for the past two years, you were involved in an underground anti-Ministry alliance known as the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Objection!" McGonagall called again, her own temper flaring, "This is ridiculous. The Order of the Phoenix was a well-established order known not for its attempts to bring down the Ministry of Magic, but to oppose the rising of the Dark Lord and his followers. The Senior Undersecretary's line on this is completely out of order."

"Defendant will answer, though," Marchbanks replied pointedly.

"Yes, I was and am a member of the Order of the Phoenix," Remus answered, "Is this a crime?" he added mildly.

"Perhaps not," Umbridge hissed, "but it is known that the Order of the Phoenix was comprised of several miscreants and criminals. Are you numbered among them?"

"Objection!" McGonagall shouted again, "Minister," she said to Scrimgeor, "this is ridiculous. There have been negligible reports of criminal activity within the Order. There is no evidence that the defendant was ever involved in any criminal activity."

"Sirius Black!" Umbridge shouted, "Mundungus Fletcher!"

"Be quiet, both of you," Scrimgeor ordered. "Madam Umbridge, I think we are all aware that Sirius Black has been posthumously cleared of all charges. And," he added as an afterthought, "I think it would be wise of you to retain your silence for the remainder of these proceedings."

Umbridge looked furious. Deep down, Remus felt a tired burst of satisfaction. It was rare to see her shut her mouth, and he was glad to have the experience.

"Mr. Lupin," Scrimgeor said, "although you have been cleared of anti-Ministry activity, there is one thing we must consider here."

Ah yes, Remus thought. The big pink elephant in the room. He squared his shoulders.

"You are, as your file at the Ministry states, a werewolf?" Scrimgeour asked, "You have received the bite?"

"I have, sir," Remus said steadily.

"For how many years?"

Remus mentally counted, "Since I was five, sir, so that would be – thirty-two years."

"And every month, do you take steps to – to prevent accidents from happening?"

Remus felt his heart drop into his shoes. No, he did not. Mainly because he could not. With Dumbledore gone, and Snape having deserted the Order, there was nobody skilled enough to concoct a Wolfsbane Potion every month. He had taken, as he had when he was a child, to having himself locked in the basement of his house as Earlscourt Road – or of Stunning himself unconscious in the evenings, which rarely worked and were too dangerous to rely upon.

Scrimgeour took his hesitation for its true meaning. "I see," he said.

"Just a moment," someone called from the third row.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror who had been a year or two behind Remus, stood up.

"After witnessing the spectacle of Malfoy's trial this morning," he said, "I took it upon myself to read up on the subject of the Auralium Curse. I thought it might be useful to this hearing. I have the information right here." He waved a piece of parchment in the air.

"Read it, please," Scrimgeour said.

Shacklebolt cleared his throat.

"The Auralium Curse was created by the wizard Caesarion Maximus of Rome, in 26 B.C, after he and his wife lost their only son to a childhood illness. Aurelia begged Maximus to find a way to end her pain and sorrow, and Maximus created the Auralium Curse in her honor. By casting the curse upon his wife, he erased all memory of her life up until that moment, thus destroying the painful memories along with the good. The curse lasted until Maximus' death in 4 B.C., whereupon Aurelia's memory was wiped clean of the memories he had given her. Unable to comprehend who she was or why she felt the traces of déjà vu she could not understand, she went insane and died only a year later.

The Auralium Curse is considered highly dangerous and inadvisable to perform even under the direst circumstances. The victim of the curse is subjected to horrible pain, followed by memory loss, and the memories cannot be retrieved, up to and upon the death of the one who cast the curse.

HOWEVER. If the curse is performed by an unskilled or inept wizard, or if the memories erased are particularly moving or important to the cursed party, the memories will not be completely erased. They will continue to come back in flashbacks as déjà vu for the duration of the life of the cursed.

This curse is banned by the Ministry of Magic in nine countries, including England, Italy, Portugal, Greece, Spain, France, Germany, Austria, and the United States."

Kingsley looked up from the paper.

At the words "the memories will not be completely erased", Remus felt a flash of hope.

"Then Narcissa may remember!" he said in wonder, hardly daring to hope it could be true.

Kingsley nodded.

"Or," he said soberly, "she may wake up in a terror, forget entirely who she is, and go insane, as Aurelia Maximus did."

Remus quashed that thought. It was too horrible to think about.

"She must not be left alone," he said to Scrimgeour. "She needs someone to look after her – at least until we can ascertain that she is in full control of her faculties."

But Scrimgeour frowned.

"This is true," he said, "But I don't know if you're the one to do it."

Remus flushed angrily.

"I have never had a single accident or harmed another human being," he retorted, "My file would have said so!"

"True," Scrimgeour said, "But one must take the possibility that such a thing could happen."

Remus was breathing angrily. There was nothing he could say.

"Remus!"

Everyone turned at yet another interruption. The doors of the Courtroom had opened, and a plump, motherly, red-haired woman was running in, out of breath and quite distressed. At her heels were two young women, a redhead about sixteen years old who bore a striking resemblance to her, and a girl of about seventeen with mousy brown hair. Both of them looked as nervous as the woman did.

"What is this?" Scrimgeour asked angrily, "State your names and business!"

The woman stopped and looked annoyed, but still worried.

"Molly Weasley, and this is my daughter," she indicated the redhead, "Ginny, and our friend Hermione Granger," here she pointed to the other girl.

"What do you mean by interrupting? This is a private hearing!" Scrimgeour bellowed.

Mrs. Weasley ignored him. "Remus," she said urgently, "I've just come from St. Mungo's."

Remus' eyes widened. "What happened?"

Ginny piped up, "It's Draco's mum, she's – "

Hermione looked ready to burst into tears, "She's gone!"

"What?" Scrimgeour shouted from behind them.

Remus froze.

"She – the orderlies say she must have woken up when they were patrolling the opposite end of the wing," Mrs. Weasley said, "She was gone when they came back to check on her. Her clothes were gone. The hospital gown they gave her was thrown on the floor. She didn't take anything with her – except her wand." She swallowed, "She's gone, Remus."

"No," Remus whispered.

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Narcissa's gone."