Prologue: April 1965

Dumbledore sat in the Hog's Head, trying to avoid the gaze of his furious brother. They never talked now. Dumbledore could understand why, but it did feel a bit childish to be bickering like... well, like siblings. He listened to Aberforth scrubbing the counter in a sort of agonized rhythm. Aberforth was still staring, eyes narrowed—perhaps Dumbledore could not see it, but he could feel it. "Just a few more minutes and I'll be out of your hair, Aberforth," Dumbledore said lightly. "I am afraid that this is the easiest place for secret information to remain secret."

"I had to shut down my pub, just for you," scowled Aberforth. "We can't all be rich and famous, Albus. Some of us have to make an honest living instead of pulling political strings for the greater good."

Dumbledore winced. All of their meetings went like this. "This is important," he said. "And Clark is an honest man."

"Clark Darnall is a werewolf."

"An honest werewolf, then. He is doing good work and he has important information. I might as well offer him a drink at one of the best pubs in Britain."

"Flattery won't work on me."

"I am not trying to flatter. I truly do not mean to bother you, Aberforth—" Dumbledore glanced up at the portrait of Ariana and sighed. "I do not mean to bother you," he said again. "Please. One hour."

"I wish the whole world knew that you aren't the paragon of light they think you are," hissed Aberforth, slamming down his towel. He sat down behind the counter. Dumbledore heard him cross his arms.

Silence. The only noise in the room was the sounds of Aberforth's annoyed huffs and the tapping of Dumbledore's long fingers on the tabletop.

Minutes passed. Suddenly, the door flew open.

"Albus Dumbledore. Oh, thank yeh fer meetin' me." Clark looked just the same as ever—all mussed brown hair, unhealthy frame, dirty face, and ripped robes. His strange accent was the same as ever. Clark Darnall had been bitten at age nine and had escaped to Greyback's werewolf pack shortly after. The pack, from what Dumbledore understood, was a conglomeration of all kinds of different people and nationalities. Clark's accent was a strange combination of a lot of different places. He hadn't lived in human civilization in a little less than twenty years. Dumbledore's heart ached for his plight.

"My pleasure. Sit down, Clark. Aberforth, if you would..."

"Don't speak to me," said Aberforth, slamming two cups of Butterbeer on Dumbledore's table. Dumbledore stole a glance at Aberforth for the first time. Sure enough, Aberforth looked ready to kill him. Never mind that, thought Dumbledore, and turned his attention to Clark.

"You said that you had pertinent information, old friend?" said Dumbledore gently, and Clark bobbed his head up and down.

"Yes. Yes, sir, I do. I... werewolves... yeh know. No one listenin' in?"

"Not a one. Except for Aberforth, but he's a very moral man. He can keep a secret."

Aberforth scrubbed harder and grunted an agreement.

"Tha' man. Aberforth. He doesn't like werewolves much, hunh?"

Dumbledore smiled. Clark wasn't usually this blunt, but a werewolf who had lived amongst other werewolves all his life often misjudged humans' ability to hear spoken comments. Heightened senses were a blessing and a curse. Mostly a curse, according the Clark. "He can hear you, Clark."

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, sir. Ab... Aberforth. So sorry."

Aberforth did not grace this with a reply, so Dumbledore broke the awkward silence. "How much time do you have?"

"'Bout an hour till Greyback notices I'm gone, p'raps less. I should hurry."

"I'm listening." Dumbledore took a sip of Butterbeer.

"Greyback's been excited lately. Dare I say over the moon." Clark chuckled weakly. "There was this man, while ago. Fergot his name. Somethin' like... Loopy, I guess. I'll remember later, prob'ly. But 'e sort of insulted Greyback... Greyback had a spot of trouble with the Ministry, yeh see, and was brought in fer a proper hearing. Pretended 'e was a Muggle tramp. Almost got away with it, 'parently, but... the bloke, Loopy... 'e didn't buy it at all. Clever man."

"Do you know anything else about this man?"

"Greyback was goin' on abou' Boggarts. 'Parently the bloke was an expert... and then they hired him a' the Ministry. Somethin' like Crocodile fer a first name... yeh know my mem'ry's not all there, Albus."

Dumbledore paused. An expert on Boggarts who had been hired by the Ministry... Crocodile Loopy? Dumbledore's mind started to conjure pictures of the young man whom he had taught years earlier... brown hair, shy demeanor, studied various subjects for fun... sense of humor... got into fights with other Hogwarts students at times. Mostly mild-mannered, but a temper. "Lyall Lupin," he said heavily. "It was Lyall, wasn't it? I taught him." Dumbledore started to picture what possibly could have happened between Greyback and Lyall that made Greyback so happy... a fight, perhaps? Lyall lost? The full moon was a few weeks ago... was Lyall killed? Or bitten?

"Yup, Lyall Lupin. Tha' was it, I'm sure of it. Well, Lyall saw righ' through Greyback. His coworkers didn't believe him, and Greyback mentioned... Greyback said they sort of taunted Lupin a bit. Seemed happy abou' it, whatever it was, but I don't know what they said. Ministry let Greyback free and tried to Obliviate him, but Greyback escaped. Ministry knows what 'e looks like now. Greyback was hoppin' mad abou' tha', 'e was. Face's all over the papers. Can't go undercover anymore. But 'parently Lupin said that... werewolves were... heartless, soulless... creatures? I dunno. Also implied we should all die."

Dumbledore closed his eyes. Oh, Lyall...

"So I guess Lupin both insulted Greyback and outed his appearance to the media, and Greyback was goin' on abou' revenge for a full day. 'Twas the day before the day of the full, yeh know. 'E was tellin' the story to everyone who would listen. Called us all together. Plotted his revenge. Said 'e was goin' over to Lupin's and killin' him. Said if the whole world knew who 'e was, 'e might as well make it worth it."

"And...?"

"And 'e went over to Lupin's a bit before the moon rose. Came back. Looked pleased. Blood all over."

Dumbledore felt a bit ill. "Lyall...?"

"Perfectly fine. 'Parently Greyback went out and scouted the area. Watched the house fer a bit. S'not just Lyall living there, 'e has a family. Wife. Kid."

Dumbledore felt even more ill.

"Yeh know how Greyback goes after the kids. 'E was happy there was a little lad there. Lupin got away with not even a scratch, 'e did, but Greyback meant to kill the kid."

So there was hope after all. "Meant to?"

"Meant to. Lad was only 'bout five, Greyback says. Tiny thing. Asleep before half-seven. Yeh know lads tha' young don't survive the firs' full, so there was no point in bitin' him and lettin' him live. So Greyback decided to... yeh know. Rip 'im apart. Leave 'im barely recognizable. Wanted to hurt Lupin, 'e did."

"Meant to?" Dumbledore repeated. "You said that he... meant to kill the child."

"Yeah, 'e did. But 'e says 'e only got one bite in before Lupin heard noises and scared 'im off. No sense stickin' around when a wizard's got a wand and s'firin' curses at yeh." Clark chuckled. "Miffed parents are dangerous, and Greyback's not stupid. Says it was still fun, though—lad didn't even scream; too stunned to do anything but stare. Greyback was pretty happy abou' how things turned out. Says it'll be a lot more fun for Lupin to live with a werewolf kid for a month. Said it wasn't possible fer such a young lad to survive the full, so Lupin would either have to put 'im down or let 'im die with the rising of the moon. But 'e regretted that 'e didn't get the kid fer himself... said 'e was delicious..."

Dumbledore shifted in his seat with discomfort. Clark was desensitized to such talk, having grown up among werewolves, but Dumbledore was not. He wasn't entirely convinced that Clark did not ever bite or kill people on the full moon, but he would never voice his reproaches to Clark. Clark was, after all, a good informant and debatably a good man... yet Dumbledore would not hesitate to protect anyone whom Clark may be willing to attack. "Continue, Clark."

"Righ'. Well, tha' was two and a half months ago, tha' was. Lad's been through the first full. Lupin let 'im live, which Greyback found surprising. But yeh know what's even more surprising?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

"The kid lived. Had his skeleton torn apart at the age of five, 'e did, and 'e didn't die. Mostly they've got to be at least five and a half, and even tha's rare. Greyback says seven is the best age. Greyback also said the kid wasn't even five yet when Greyback bit 'im. Close, but not yet. 'E was four. Family was talkin' 'bout fifth birthday prep'rations. Lad prob'ly transformed for the firs' time righ' aroun' his birthday. Only five."

That was rare, certainly, but Dumbledore didn't see why it was such important information. "So...?"

"So tha's a big deal! Yeh prob'ly don't understand. Yeh're brigh' and all, but yeh can't understand. In the werewolf world, tha's huge. Greyback went and discovered a kid who somehow got past all the laws of the world. Tha's why 'e's so happy. Got 'imself a protegee, 'e said. But when 'e tried to go get the kid and bring 'im to the pack... lad refused."

"Do you know the child's name?"

"'Course I do. Remus Lupin. Greyback's been sayin' it over and over, like it's a song stuck in 'is head. 'E gets obsessive sometimes. Scary. The fact that Remus refused made 'im even happier. Usually 'e can go into the child's room, cast a Silencing Charm, and then convince the kid to come join. After they've been through the firs' full moon they'll do anythin' to make it better, and Greyback makes sure the parents aren't aroun' to make the decision fer their kid. So tha's what Greyback did with Remus. Sometimes 'e makes us do it, but 'e really wanted to do it himself this time. Never seen 'im so excited abou' anythin'. His heart was going a mile a minute, it was."

"But Remus refused?"

"Yup. Greyback did all the normal stuff... promised 'e could make the pain go away, said it was almost like a cure, said Remus'd meet other kids like 'im. Greyback even said that 'e tried to act all nice and fatherly, but none of us believe 'im. Anyway, lad heard that Greyback could help an' then flat-out refused. Said 'e wanted to stay where 'e was. Also a big deal, Dumbledore... pain's a lot, an' kids don't offen have the presence of mind to make their own decisions."

"I see."

"Greyback tried Plan B, as 'e always does when the kids refuse. Took off Silencing Charms, let parents in. Sometimes the parents love to get the kid off their chests. But Lupin wasn't having it, 'parently. And Lupin can duel, so Greyback left. Lupin still loved 'is kid, even though 'e'd hated werewolves just two and a half months ago."

"Fathers do tend to love their children," murmured Dumbledore. "Lyall was always headstrong, but I never had any doubt when he was at Hogwarts that he'd do the right thing."

"Dunno if it is the righ' thing, meself. Remus Lupin's not gonna have an easy life. People're gonna hate 'im. And he's only five. 'E migh' have been better off with us... plus, I kinda wanted to meet 'im, I did. After Greyback's said so much abou' 'im."

"He will be better off here," said Dumbledore. "He will. Lyall is a good father, I'm sure."

"Yeah, well. They moved, after Greyback found 'em the second time, but Greyback isn't worried. Loves that the lad has a mind of 'is own. Says 'e'll go find Remus later when 'e's grown and try again. Says it's somethin' to look forward to. E's always so much happier when 'e has somethin' to look forward to. We're always scared of 'im after the euphoria of the last full moon dies down and 'e's got a whole month to go. But now 'e's practically bouncin' off the walls. No tellin' whether Remus'll survive the next full, but I hope 'e will. Really wanna meet the kid, I do."

"So do I," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "But I imagine that the family is going through a lot right now. You're right, Clark. This certainly changes things. You always do bring me good information."

"Least I can do after yeh saved my skin few years ago," said Clark. "Heckin' werewolf hunters. Execution's the worst way to go. Well, I'd better get back before Greyback wonders where I've been. See ya sometime, Albus."

"See you sometime," repeated Dumbledore, smiling. He watched Clark go. The second he left, the smile dropped off of his face. "Aberforth, you needn't listen. But I need to talk things through." Dumbledore stood up and began to pace.

"Oh, joy," said Aberforth sarcastically.

"Armando is set on retiring, and I—forgive my arrogance—expect to be headmaster in a few months' time."

"Of course you do."

"Lyall was always a good man. He will raise Remus to be a good man as well, I am certain of it."

"If you think werewolves can be good."

"I do. And I think that, since Remus is so young now, he will have had a chance to adapt to the curse by the time he is eleven..."

"Oh no," said Aberforth. "Absolutely not."

"I heard that Lyall has married a Muggle. I believe her name is Hope. Remus might be nonmagical... but with Lyall's talent, I suspect that he is a wizard. I shall have to check, but I would not be surprised if his name is already down for Hogwarts. If I can create arrangements for full moons..."

"You're not planning on raising this boy to fight in the war, Albus."

"I thought you didn't like werewolves," said Dumbledore. "Don't worry. That is not my intention. I simply think that he has a right to an education, don't you? I can see many ways that this will be a success... but, if I am as magically competent as I believe myself to be... I cannot see many ways in which it can fail. If this works... yes, indeed, I can see it working," he said, more to himself than Aberforth, "and it could be life-changing for a great many people. Or perhaps just Remus Lupin. Either will satisfy me."

"You say that, but you only care about the greater good. None of that is true at all."

"It was certainly true," said Dumbledore quietly, "and I'll thank you to let me be my own person. I am changed. I have learned. And Remus Lupin will learn as well, if I have anything to do with it... except in a very different sense. He is young still, but in six years... six years. Yes. I shall... what is the expression?... put it on the back burner." He smiled. "Would you like a caramel toffee, Aberforth? In thanks?"

"A caramel toffee will not make up for your mistakes."

"No, but a caramel toffee certainly doesn't hurt..."

"I don't want your toffees."

"A couple Galleons?"

"I am not a charity case."

"A hug?"

"Don't touch me."

"You may have my scarf, but it's a bit old and probably too flamboyant for your tastes..."

"Get out of my pub so that I can reopen."

"Very well. Let me know if there's anything you ever need, Aberforth."

"I need you out of my life," Aberforth called, but Dumbledore was already halfway down the cobblestone street, humming Rossini's Barber of Seville overture.

All in all, it had been quite the productive day.