Remus was in high spirits for the rest of the week. He was feeling so generous, in fact, that he listened to James talk Quidditch as best as he could (even though he didn't understand a word of it). James was not perturbed at all by the fact that he had not made the team—instead, he was channeling all his disappointment into excitement. That was James: ever the optimist.

Sirius took a few more unflattering pictures of the Marauders at meals and in the dormitory. He started hanging them up all over the dormitory with a Sticking Charm. Remus wanted to scold him (school property!) but found that he couldn't—partly because he did not want his friends to call him a "fun sponge" and altogether ruin Remus' wonderful mood, and partly because he very much enjoyed having the pictures up. Waking up in the middle of the night was so much better when he came face-to-face with a laughing Peter rather than a hungry werewolf.

Remus started using the "hat" that his father had made him as a pillow for Bufo. He wore his scarf nearly every time he went outside, even though the smell of his father had mostly faded. He knew it was limp, stringy, and ugly. But Remus himself was probably limp, stringy, and ugly, so it fit him very well.

He received a letter back from his mum, who was (predictably) gushing about how happy and healthy he looked in the photo that he had sent her. Remus rolled his eyes when he read it, but he was almost proud. Which was odd, seeing as none of it was his doing whatsoever.

Now it was evening in the dormitory. Sirius was hanging upside-down off of his bed, as he was wont to do, and trying to balance a sock over his eyes. James was trying to climb his four-poster. Peter and Remus were doing schoolwork together on the floor.

It was ten minutes before James finally managed to climb the four-poster, and now he was hanging off the side with an important royal air about him. "Ahem. Calling all Marauders," he said pompously. "I don't think we've made enough of a splash, and we need to talk about that."

"A splash?" asked Remus mildly, flipping a page of Best of Rudyard Kipling. "What do you call decorating Dumbledore's office?"

"A ripple."

"What do you call hexing first-years?"

"Skipping stones."

"What do you call naming Sirius' owl James?"

"A splatter. We need to make a splash. We need a running joke of sorts; something that we can be known for."

"Besides being the mortal enemy of Snivellus and Slytherins everywhere," said Sirius.

"Besides that. I think that we need to..." James grinned and whispered something into Sirius' ear. Remus, of course, heard. He should have pretended he hadn't, but was too surprised to even consider it.

"You want to call all of the staff by their first names only?" Remus asked incredulously.

"Woah, you do have good hearing," said Sirius. "Even I barely heard that."

"I can also read lips," said Remus lamely. That wasn't true; he'd never had the need to. "Anyway. Do you have any idea how many detentions you could get?"

"Ah, but Remus," said James, waggling his finger. "I was holding back before because I wanted to make the Quidditch team. Now that tryouts are over, I don't care how many detentions I get. They're not that bad, truly."

"Don't you like the idea, Remus?" asked Sirius.

Remus thought about it. He didn't want to be a fun sponge. He certainly didn't want his friends to be angry with him. And he was in such a good mood—he felt as if he was on top of the world, in fact—and he didn't want to ruin that. But he also didn't want to disrespect the teachers, who were already doing so much for him. They were bending over backwards to give Remus a childhood experience, and Remus thought that disrespect was a pretty poor way to repay them. And what if they revoked his place at Hogwarts if he was too troublesome? "Well," he started, his brain going ten million miles per hour, "the more detentions that you lot get, the more quiet evenings I'll have in the dormitory by myself. So I'll help... but I won't participate."

"Remus! You can't do that!"

Remus smiled. "Do you want my help or not? I happen to know the first names of almost every teacher in the school."

Sirius groaned. "Fine. Fine. Yes, we want your help." He pulled out a piece of parchment and poised his quill over it. "I know Minerva McGonagall, Horace Slughorn, Albus Dumbledore..."

"Actually," said Remus, "It's Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"How do you know that?" asked Peter.

"He's in a lot of books."

"Keep going," said James, grinning.

"Er," said Remus. "John Questus. Pomona Sprout. Rolanda Hooch. Rubeus Hagrid. Cuthbert Binns. Filius Flitwick. Who am I forgetting?"

"Filch," said Sirius.

"Oh, right. Argus Filch. I don't know Mrs. Norris' first name, if she has one. And I don't know Sidus', either."

"How do you know all that?" Peter asked again. He looked duly impressed.

"Some of them were mentioned in books. Some of them introduced themselves by their full name on the first day of class. And, of course, the teachers refer to each other by their first names and I listen."

"Wow." Sirius said, scribbling as fast as humanly possible. "I'm so glad you're a Marauder."

Remus felt more pride than he probably should have, seeing as he was aiding his friends in breaking a school rule. But he couldn't help it.

"What about Pomfrey?" asked James suddenly.

"Oh. Er." Remus knew Madam Pomfrey's first name—Poppy. But Madam Pomfrey had done a lot for him (even more than the rest, except maybe Dumbledore), and she didn't seem like the type to like being called by her first name (unlike Dumbledore, who probably wouldn't mind). "I'm not sure about her, either."

"Pity," said Sirius. He finished writing down the names and handed the parchment to Remus. "Here. Test us."

"Sirius Black and James Potter? Studying? I never thought I'd see the day."

"It's just Sirius," said Sirius, yawning. "Not Sirius Black. My family are super proud of that surname and I want to make them angry."

"Right... Just-Sirius and James Potter studying? I never thought I'd see the day," amended Remus, and Just-Sirius chucked a pillow at his face.

An hour later, Sirius and James were shooting an assortment of hexes at one another, while Peter was getting more frustrated by the second.

"Albus... Wulfric..."

"Albus Percival."

"Albus Percival... Brian..."

"Albus Percival Wulfric."

"Albus Wulfric Brian..."

"Albus Percival Wulfric."

"Albus Percy Mole Wolf... Oh, it's useless!"

"You'll get it, Peter," said Remus encouragingly. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"No! I can't!"

"We'll come back to it... what's Hooch's first name?"

"Pomona."

"Rolanda. Pomona is someone else. Do you know whom?"

"McGonagall."

"No, she's Minerva."

"...Filch?"

"No. It's Sprout. Pomona Sprout."

Peter groaned. "I'll never get it, Remus!"

"No, you will. It's my fault. Plain memorization never helps anyone. Let's look at this from a different point of view..."

"No, Remus!" said Peter, shaking his head in a frustrated sort of way. "You always say that! You never tell me that I need to try harder, or that I'm stupid; it's always your fault for not teaching me well enough! But it's not your fault! I'm just thick, and nothing you can do will help!"

James and Sirius had stopped hexing each other, and were now staring at Remus and Peter, their wands dangling limply from their hands. James' hair was blue, Sirius' nose was much too large, and both of them were covered in boils. "I hope you know how to fix yourselves," Remus said disapprovingly. Then he turned to Peter. "It is my fault. I've helped you out enough, and I knew that straight memorization never does you any good—it's just the way your mind works. It doesn't mean you're stupid. Sirius isn't stupid, and he can't sit and read a book to save his life."

"You've got a point," said Sirius, trying to help, "but Pete really is kind of thick, Remus." Well. That wasn't helpful at all.

"No, he's not! Look. Peter, have you ever heard of a Name Seer?"

Peter shook his head mournfully. "See, Remus, I'm stupid."

"No. I hadn't either till recently." That was a lie, and Remus wondered how on earth Peter hadn't heard of a Name Seer. Hadn't Peter told them that his parents had taken him to one when he was an infant? Remus figured that it was just the stress of the moment, or perhaps he was remembering incorrectly. He refused to believe that Peter was stupid. He wasn't. "They sort of see the future—what someone's going to be like. Parents take their babies to them to get them names that fit their personality and... occupation... and things..." Like Remus Lupin. Remus shuddered. "Anyway. Half the teachers at school have names that fit their personality. Like... like Pomona. She was the Roman goddess of fruit, I believe. Pomona Sprout."

"Pomona Sprout," Peter repeated.

"Yeah. And Minerva McGonagall. Minerva was the Roman goddess of wisdom and war. You can't tell me that isn't perfect. She's very wise. And she always looks like she's going to pick a fight with someone, doesn't she?"

Peter giggled. "What about Hooch? I always have trouble remembering that one."

"I don't know, actually. Rolanda. I suppose you can remember it because it has 'land' in it—you can do that to a broomstick. I think it's pronounced differently, though."

"Land. Rolanda. Rolanda Hooch."

"Right." Remus went through the rest of the names, and by the end, Peter had a fairly good handle on it all. Not all of them fit the pattern, but a good number of them did. Remus found that it helped a great deal.

"I still can't remember Dumbledore's, though," Peter said, frowning.

"The best way to remember that is muscle memory. Here." Remus wrote down Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore on a spare bit of parchment. "Just whisper it over and over again. Soon, your mouth will know what to do, even though your mind doesn't. That's how I memorize difficult bits of poetry."

"Look at the professor," James teased. They had just ceased their duelling and were now watching Peter and Remus and mocking them. "Professor Remus Lupin."

"Professor Lupin!" crowed Sirius, laughing somewhat hysterically.

Remus shook his head. "Oh, don't. You two need to sort yourselves out. Blue hair does not look good on you, James. You do know the counter-curses, right?"

"You sound just like a professor," said James. "No. We thought that you might, though."

"What?"

"You know the incantation to every spell in the book, Remus! You only have to tell us; then we'll perform the spell."

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, exactly. So... do you know the counter-curses?"

"Yes," said Remus.

There was a pregnant pause.

"So...?" said James.

"I know the counter-curses. But I'm not telling you what they are. Have fun in the Hospital Wing."

"Remus!"

Remus smiled and continued to coach Peter as James and Sirius trudged to the Hospital Wing in defeat.

Remus turned in his moon drawing the next Astronomy class. He was pretty sure that it was wildly inaccurate, seeing as he completely forgot to observe the rising moon, but he had said that he was going to do it—and by golly, Remus Lupin kept his promises. Besides, he had pored over a library book with a picture of the full moon for hours, drawing every single crater. How bad could it be?

Quite bad, apparently. Sidus handed Remus' assignment back with an A, which was two marks lower than what Sirius and James had gotten. Outstanding drawing of the moon, Sidus had written, but this is a picture of the moon from late spring. Remus felt that, since he had not done the assignment correctly at all, the only thing preventing him from receiving a P was pity. He did not complain, but he was embarrassed for the rest of class. For goodness' sake, he was a werewolf. Werewolves did not need pity.

"I want you all to do this same assignment for the rest of the year," said Sidus. "Watch how the moon changes. It is not a static, ever-present rock in the sky. It changes just as much as any other celestial body. Class dismissed."

He held Remus back after class, predictably.

"Lupin, you really needn't do the assignment."

"No, Professor. It was my fault. I completely forgot. I'll try again next month."

"I shall gladly exempt you."

"No. I can do it. I just need to remember. I'll do it properly next month."

"If you insist. Just let me know if you'd like an alternate assignment. I have plenty."

Remus watched Sidus' face and hands as he spoke. The man was terrified of Remus. He was shaking and quivering all over, his face was pale, he was avoiding Remus' eyes at all costs. Why would Remus ask for special treatment from someone who clearly did not want to give it to him?

Remus shifted his book-bag higher up onto his shoulder, and Sidus flinched at the sudden movement. "I'll be fine, sir. Thank you, anyway."

Sidus nodded, and Remus turned to leave. "Er, Professor...?" he said, in a sudden moment of courage.

Sidus seemed to be quite disappointed that Remus had not, in fact, disappeared off the face of the earth, but it was clear that he was trying not to show it. "Yes?"

"My friends were wondering what your first name is. I don't know why."

Sidus looked much too afraid to wonder why, so he answered automatically. "It's Leo."

"Hm," said Remus, feeling very clever. "Thank you." Then he left before Sidus had a chance to say anything further.

The next day, Questus kept Remus after Defense Against the Dark Arts. Remus was a bit tired of being kept after classes, but he couldn't very well say no. So here he was, standing alone in the Defense classroom in front of Questus, who was crossing his arms and leaning against the desk as if he hadn't a care in the world. "I believe you've not yet served the detention that I assigned you on November first, Lupin," Questus said.

Remus did not remember. "I don't remember," he said.

"For falling asleep in class."

"Oh." Now Remus remembered, and he was horribly embarrassed by the fact. "I'm so sorry, sir, I forgot entirely."

"It's all right. Quidditch matches tend to do that to people," said Questus, and Remus was thankful that he hadn't mentioned the full moon. "And also transforming into a bloodthirsty wolf on the full moon. That'll do it too," added Questus, and Remus was no longer thankful.

"So, er, when would you like me to..."

"This evening is fine. Half six. Plan for two hours, but I doubt we'll use them both."

"And do I need to bring anything...?"

"No. I just want to talk."

Remus groaned inwardly. Of course he did. "Talk about..."

"Werewolves, yes. I have questions."

Remus wondered how many House points he would lose if he skipped it entirely. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Enjoy your lunch."

"Yes, sir," said Remus: with that, he left to catch up with the other Marauders.

He liked Professor Questus, he really did. But honestly, why was it that he always wanted to talk about werewolves? Couldn't he see that it made Remus uncomfortable? Questus had, apparently, done plenty of research—he should be aware that it was a dark and gruesome topic that already caused Remus enough pain. Questus did not have an ounce of tact; Remus knew this. But it was just plain, common sense.

Questus, Remus decided, was either a complete idiot, too curious for his own good, or the most inconsiderate person on the planet. Perhaps a mixture of all three.

"You have detention?" exclaimed James as Remus got ready to visit Questus.

"Yeah," said Remus. "Don't you remember? I was ill and fell asleep in class."

"That's no reason for detention," Sirius grumbled. "You're wasting your seven detentions on unfair ones. We all decorated Dumbledore's office, but you were the only one who got punished. And Questus can't give you detention because you were ill—good-for-nothing Slytherin."

Remus felt a little ill at the discriminatory remark, but he didn't say anything about it. "But I could have infected you all. I knew I was ill when I woke up. I shouldn't have come to class."

"You actually look ill nearly all the time," Peter pointed out. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," said Remus, a stone the size of Remus the Rock in his stomach. He remembered the exact wording from the Defense textbook that he had flipped through earlier. Werewolves are often pale and sickly in the days leading up to a full moon... Remus hoped with all of his heart that it wasn't too obvious.

James' eyes suddenly got wide, and Remus panicked. He had just figured it out. James had just figured it out. James knew that Remus was... oh, fiddlesticks...!

"You've caught whatever your mum's got," said James in horror-stricken awe. "You're dying!"

Remus suppressed the urge to laugh—from hilarity or relief, he wasn't sure which. "No. She's not contagious. I just have a weak immune system. I have allergies and things."

"Madam Pomfrey could fix those in a minute," said Sirius.

"I know, but I can deal with it on my own."

James shook his head. "You're scared of Healers, aren't you?"

"Scared?" Remus was genuinely confused.

"Because of your mum."

"Oh." That was a pretty good cover, actually. "Yeah. I hate taking medicine. It's irrational, but..." He let his voice trail off. Hopefully that was convincing enough, because he had no idea how to finish that sentence. "I need to go to my detention now," he said. "I'll see you this evening."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Detention's much more fun with the rest of us, mate. You should participate in our antics!"

"Absolutely not," said Remus. "Oh, and by the way. Sidus' first name: it's Leo."

The other Marauders affirmed their thanks, and Remus stepped into the corridor, doing his token Knock on the way out. James laughed, which raised Remus' spirits considerably. Remus was still surprised that James Potter and Sirius Black—charismatic, popular "cool kids"—genuinely thought that he was funny. People actually accepted Remus for who he was, not what he was, and that would never grow old.

Now Remus walked down the hallway, listening to his friends' voices fade into the distance and dreading whatever was ahead.

It felt good to walk, though. There wasn't much time for pacing when Remus was constantly surrounded by students, and he didn't really feel comfortable doing so in front of others. Pacing in front of others made him feel a bit like a caged animal—it was all very well and good when he heard the floorboards squeaking from his (human) father's room, but it was different when he was the only one. Remus savored the rhythm of walking when he had the chance.

Talking of Remus' father, Remus missed him very much. Remus' father was quiet, he was intelligent, and he was dead funny when he wanted to be. There was a poem by Edgar Guest that sort of reminded Remus of him: In conversation, Father can do many wondrous things; he's built upon a wiser plan than presidents or kings. He knows the ins and outs of each and every deep transaction; we look to him for theories, but we look to Ma for action.

And that was Remus' father. He was clever beyond a doubt, but never actually did anything. Remus' mother was the one who took charge, even though she couldn't do magic. She was the one to tell his father over and over again after the bite that he was still the same Remus, he was still a four-year-old child who loved them... Remus' dad had only thought of the books, the news, the facts. He had still saved Remus' life, of course, and took him to St. Mungo's. He told Remus later that he always believed that Remus was the same as he ever had been in his heart, the knowledge just took a while to travel up to his head—and Remus understood completely; the same thing often happened to him.

Remus' father had felt so guilty for so long after the attack. He had felt as if it was all his fault—and indeed, it had been his actions that had led to the event—but Remus never blamed him. Not for anything. Not for his initial distrust of Remus (that lasted only a couple of seconds), not for the careless comment he had made to Fenrir Greyback that had spurred him to attack Remus, and certainly not for pushing Remus to get Registered at the Ministry.

Remus was, in all respects, a miniature Lyall Lupin, and he felt such a sense of kinship with his father that he could never blame him for anything. Remus understood guilt. He understood the fear that he was hurting people close to him. He and his father were two peas in a pod, and he missed his father so, so much.

And Remus' mum was lovely, too. Even though Remus' mannerisms were more like his father, he had his mother's hair and—well, his father said that he had her "spirit", but Remus didn't know what that meant. But Remus supposed that his "penchant for mischief" came from his mother. Still—she was always the first to do the right thing, she was always more considerate, and she had absolutely no temper whatsoever and never seemed to lose her cool.

One thing that Remus had definitely inherited from his mother was listening. He was good at listening to problems, according to Sirius and Peter, and his mum was always the best at that. Remus sometimes dreaded going to his father for emotional help, mostly because his father was always as turbulent and emotionally confused as he was. But his mother could read people like a book. Remus' dad had always said that she was better at it than even a Legilimens. Remus believed it.

Remus missed his parents, and he hadn't realized exactly how much until now. They'd been his only two companions for six and a half years, and now he hadn't seen them in months. Months! And he missed them so much. He missed his mother's cooking. He missed his father's stories about work. He missed Garrison the Boggart. He missed his room and his own bed. He missed reciting "The Walrus and the Carpenter" with his mother.

He decided to do that by himself right then and there; after all, it always seemed to calm him down. Remus murmured the words under his breath, thinking of all the times that he had done so with his mother. He had only gotten to the bit about the eldest oyster when he was pulled out of his thoughts by the realization that he was entirely lost.

He spun around in a circle, examining every door. He did not recognize where he was at all.

Curse his mind's tendency to wander! Curse the fact that he had never left the house when he was younger and didn't know how to navigate! He felt tears come to his eyes, but brushed them away. How could he have been so stupid? He went to Defense Against the Dark Arts all the time! What was he supposed to do now?

For the second time that month, Remus Lupin very much wanted to go home.

AN: I'm gonna be busy tomorrow morning, so I'm gonna go ahead and post August twelfth's chapter right now so that I can keep to my schedule! Hope you enjoyed it :)