"Well, we've got all evening," said Tonks, looking rather unamused.

Remus steepled his hands in front of his face, trying to assemble his thoughts into a coherent pattern. He had been thinking, or more accurately, trying to avoid thinking, about this discussion ever since he had run away from the crime scene. He had found clear traces of the guilty werewolf, and he could identify those traces, unambiguously. However, he could not believe the answer. He felt very old and alone.

"Yes. We do. First of all, I had better say a few words about my 'abilities'. I don't think this ever came up in conversation before. Most of the time, I'm perfectly ordinary. However, close to the full moon, the spirit of the wolf starts to rise inside me." He paused, unconsciously taking on his schoolmaster's voice. "A week before the full moon, my senses of smell and hearing become gradually sharper, and then start to fade away again, returning to normal a week after the full moon. Today, my senses were at their most sensitive."

"Really?" Tonks sounded very interested. "They told us in Auror training that several werewolves had been noted to have sensed things that they really shouldn't have. We're always told to assume that werewolves have far superior hearing if we have to engage. I always assumed that it was a permanent thing."

"No." Remus continued in his didactic tone. "And it is not the kind of information that most of us would volunteer. It is ... not pleasant to feel the wolf rising. It can make it quite difficult to know exactly what is going on, when your level of hearing is constantly in flux. To remember when you should be able to hear something, and when not." He smiled briefly. "Although it has come in useful a number of times." He remembered several escapades in the halls of Hogwarts, hearing the approach of Mrs. Norris, and warning the other Marauders just in time to make a clean getaway. Lost in thought, he did not notice Tonks' firm nod of understanding.

"Anyway," he continued, after a brief moment, "I thought that I might have a chance to identify the guilty party."

Tonks interrupted again. "How so? You said on Ilkley Moor that you thought you could track the suspect, and that you knew most of the werewolves in Britain?"

"Yes. First of all, tracking either the wolf or the children would have been easy. Particularly the children. Animals really can smell fear, you know. The stench of it lingers."

"That implies that you didn't track them, Remus. I thought that you followed their trail." Tonks looked rather concerned now. When Remus did not reply immediately, Tonks sighed. "Look, Remus, you may be an old friend, but I am an Auror. Although my boss certainly wouldn't be happy, I am obliged to report any information that I can find on the killer, from any source. I took a chance, letting you in today, a chance that could cost me my job. I hope that you're willing to testify about whatever you discovered, if necessary."

Remus looked at her curiously. "Why did you tell me to run away?"

"You're quite the famous werewolf, Remus. My boss would have recognized you, and assumed immediately that you were involved."

"You don't like your boss, do you?"

"No comment." Tonks' words were sharp, but the tone was chirpy, with a definite undertone of 'who does?'.

Remus coughed. "I will tell you what I know, Tonks. If you still want me to testify when you've heard what I have to say, then I will."

Tonks looked at him suspiciously. "Well, get on with it then."

"I could have followed the trail, but I was too surprised. In any case, it was fairly obvious. I am sure that even the Aurors could have followed it." His teeth flashed, and Tonks was suddenly very conscious that he was a werewolf. "I was surprised because I recognized the scent. Everybody has a particular smell. In many ordinary people, this is often masked by soap, or perfume, or whatever. Similarly, every wolf has a personal smell, only it is never hidden."

"Right, I don't suppose many wolves go for Rococo No. 1," interjected Tonks.

"Indeed. Therefore, in principle, I can identify any werewolf that I have met, as long as I met them either on or close to the full moon."

"Can that be proved? I mean, I'm sure that my boss would call that groundless supposition."

Remus shrugged. "It's the truth."

"And you've met a lot of werewolves, then?"

Remus took a long drink of tea before answering with another question. "What exactly do you know about the current state of werewolf legislation, Tonks?"

She looked startled. "Well, I've only recently moved into the field. I know that the laws were changed recently. About six months ago. But you were involved in that, weren't you? Why don't you tell me what you know?"

"I was only lightly involved. If you don't mind, I'll take a few minutes to describe the situation. It'll make things a bit clearer later on, if that's okay."

"Take all the time you need. As I said, we're in no hurry." Tonks settled back, wrapping her fingers round her mug of tea.

Remus again adopted his teacher's voice. "There has been quite a lot of change recently to the laws specifically governing werewolves. Before the change in the law six months ago, werewolves were obliged to undergo their transformation in a secure zone. This had to be certified by Ministry officials, but that was all. If you didn't have such a place yourself, then you could present yourself at Sorrel's Institution."

"That's the secure unit of St. Mungo's, right? For criminal cases?" Remus could tell that Tonks already knew the answer.

Remus nodded. "Yes. The only problem with that setup was that you had to pay for board, lodging and supply of Wolfsbane there, as they wouldn't let you change without it, for security. Not many of us could afford it. Wolfsbane is a very expensive potion to make, as I'm sure you know, and not many people can actually brew it. This left quite a few people without a solution. I'm lucky in that I had a secure place at my house, but not everyone does. Now, most of us know a few boltholes, where we can transform without being a danger to others, but sometimes something happens. We always try to avoid that though, as if you're caught transforming outside, then it's straight to Azkaban for you."

Tonks looked at him over her mug. "Like the case of that little girl, eight months ago."

"Exactly. She was bitten by someone who couldn't afford to shelter at Sorrel's. He was absolutely devastated by what he had done. He killed himself, you know. I thought that enough was enough. We, the werewolves, we don't really have anyone to represent our interests, and people just think that we're being irresponsible. So, I thought I'd try and do something."

"You went to see Harry. Harry Potter."

"Yes. He said years ago that I could always drop by, and so I finally did. I told him all about the problems that the current legislation was causing, and asked if there wasn't a way to help everyone, by allowing all werewolves to transform safely, and thus show the public that they're safe. Now, Harry's a good lad, and he proposed a law straight away." It had been such a long time since he had seen Harry. He had grown up. Remus had been delighted to see him again, but it had been clear that Harry was too busy to spend much time remembering the past. Remus had also had the impression that Harry did not want to dwell on the past; he could understand that sentiment quite well.

"I remember reading all about in the papers. The Prophet was shouting that it was a disgrace, spending good taxpayers' money on keeping werewolves in the lap of luxury." Tonks sneered at the mention of the paper; it clearly was not popular in the Tonks household. "I've never understood how that rag is still around. I mean, when the Invoker started coming out, I bought it every day, but then it just folded. Not enough readers, apparently."

"Well, the Prophet has never been an example of good journalism. It only got worse after it was bought by that American, Crintus Baldock." Remus shook his head in amazement. "After that, the law couldn't be passed in its original form. I'm sure that Harry tried his best, but the final law ended up being a bit too strict. It stated that every werewolf was either obliged to transform in a secure place, as certified by the Ministry, if and only if they had someone willing to sign a paper certifying that they locked them in every full moon, or else they were obliged to present themselves at Sorrel's. If you couldn't pay for the lodgings and the Wolfsbane, you were obliged to work there for two weeks before and after." Remus paused, weighing his words. "I wasn't too happy about that, as it meant that I could no longer use my own home, and had to go to Sorrel's."

Tonks' eyes widened. "So what is it like?"

"Well, not too bad for me. I still have enough money to pay for a few more visits. The Wolfsbane potion is always there; it even tastes a bit better than the usual stuff. Also, quite a few of the people there were quite keen on the prospect of having some work to do for once. The place is rather unpleasant though." Remus did not really want to say too much more about the insides of Sorrel's Institution. It was not a welcoming place, and he hated going there every month. "I've been there for the past five full moons, and it's usually the same crowd who goes. There aren't actually all that many werewolves around. It's actually been quite nice to meet some of the others on a regular basis. I've got to know a few of them quite well."

Tonks leaned forward. They were now approaching the crucial matter. "And you've been around them close to the full moon. You know their scent."

"Exactly." Remus closed his eyes, remembering yesterday evening. Each visitor had his own area, but they all looked out into a common room. It was very difficult to pretend that you were not affected, when your neighbour started howling.

"So you're saying that the killer has previously been at Sorrel's?" Tonks scrunched up her brow, concentrating hard. "We've got a list of all of the werewolves who weren't in custody last night, but most of them have gone to ground, and are proving difficult to find. If you can pinpoint one in particular, that might make the search a lot easier."

Remus felt like crying. "Why? All of the others are breaking the law as well."

Tonks didn't answer for a long moment. "Remus, this case involves a murder and two infections. This is very serious."

Remus set his cup of tea down and held Tonks gaze. "I know, Tonks. I know." Now was the moment of truth. Remus bit his lip; he himself hardly believed what he was about to say. "I recognized the scent of the werewolf who was present on Ilkley Moor last night. I was particularly surprised because I encountered that scent last night, before I transformed, and this morning, when I was leaving Sorrel's Institution. It belongs to the man who was in the cubicle next to me. His name is Quadrille Beaufort, and I've known him for eight years, more or less." All of Remus' senses were on alert now, and his heart was racing. This secret had been weighing down on him all afternoon, and he was glad to share it now.

Tonks looked confused, and Remus could not blame her. "But how can that be? How sure are you that that was the scent? It doesn't sound very likely to me."

Remus sighed. "Everybody has their own unique scent. I've known Quadrille a long time, since he was infected, in fact. I know his scent. And I know that it was his scent all over that crime scene. I just don't see how he could have been there though." That was true enough. Remus and Quadrille had had breakfast that very morning. Quadrille had seemed very worn, and had been sporting some scratches along his left cheek, but scrapes were not uncommon after a transformation.

Tonks was not satisfied. "Well, I know that the name Quadrille Beaufort wasn't on the list I mentioned just now. And if you yourself saw this fellow at Sorrel's last night, and again this morning, I don't see how he could have been in the middle of Yorkshire. Are you sure that your sense of smell hasn't been fooled?"

"I don't know. I can't explain it. I've never been wrong about a scent before. The only thing I can think of is that he Apparated part way through the transformation some how. Although, he comes from Surrey, so I don't see how he would have ended up in Yorkshire. But even then, he'd taken the Wolfsbane, just like me, so he shouldn't have attacked those kids." Remus shook his head in frustration. "Did the Aurors follow the trail? Where did it lead?"

"Yes. It didn't lead anywhere. There were the marks of someone being dragged, and pawprints into the forest, but they led to a clearing and we couldn't find anything further." Tonks paused. "Just as if they had Disapparated out of existence. Argus Mackinnon thought that perhaps the wolf ate the kids, but there wasn't enough blood for that to have been the case." She shivered at the thought.

"But how could a werewolf have transported a bitten child, let alone two? And why? The wolf is just hungry. This doesn't make any sense." Secretly, Remus could not help but ponder the possibility of a bizarre Ministry plot to discredit werewolves. He was absolutely certain that he had correctly identified the werewolf. However, it seemed unlikely that Tonks could be convinced of that.

"You're right, Remus, it doesn't make any sense. Occam's razor and all that. I think you must have mixed up the scents." Tonks sighed and rubbed her eyes. "On the plus side, I won't have to explain to Wilkins that I spent the afternoon lying to him about strange visitors to the crime scene. Well, thank you for trying, Remus."

That definitely sounded like a dismissal. Remus fiddled with his jacket lapel. "Well, it's getting late now. I'd best be getting back to my place." He stood up. "Thank you for dinner, and for letting me have a look round this afternoon."

Tonks stood up swiftly, painting a bright smile on to her face. "It was lovely to see you again, Remus. I really mean that. About the case, I'll keep in touch. I'll run an investigation on this Beaufort chap tomorrow, although I don't really see how he can have anything to do with it."

Remus smiled and nodded, wondering what to do next. The only thing he could think of was Apparating home and going to sleep, in the hope that something would make sense in the morning. He shook hands with Tonks, promised to visit again soon, and concentated on his own living room. In an instant, he was there.