Remus wandered around for a bit. He went left. He peeked down the corridor. He could figure this out, couldn't he? He went through this corridor every day.

No, he was still lost—and now he was beginning to panic slightly.

Okay, Remus told himself. Calm down, Lupin. You're a werewolf. Werewolves are good at tracking. Remus inhaled deeply through his nose. He could smell the Kitchens. He could smell people. He could smell a person in the next classroom over, and he heard the scratching of a quill against parchment. But he did not know where he was. His chest was positively flooded with panic now. How had Greyback tracked down his house six and a half years ago? Nope. Remus shut his eyes tightly. He did not want to think about that. There were lots of things that might soothe his panic, but that certainly wasn't one of them.

He walked down the corridor a little more. He spun in circles and inhaled until the inside of his nose grew cold and dry. He had no idea where he was.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps coming from the classroom. The door opened, and Remus stumbled backwards. "A little jumpy, are we?" said the lady who had exited the classroom. "Are you all right?"

Remus nodded fervently. "I'm so sorry, ma'am, it's only... I was walking, and I spaced out... and I lost my way. Where am I?"

The lady laughed—a very warm laugh that soothed Remus' nerves immensely. "I do that, too. I do wish that this school had maps; I have no sense of direction whatsoever."

Remus smiled. "Me, neither. I get it from my father—he couldn't find his way out of a paper bag."

The woman smiled. "I get mine from my grandmother." She had blond hair that was tied up into an elegant bun, black robes, and was wearing a bit of lipstick. She looked very kind, and Remus wondered if she was going to help him. "I'm the Arithmancy professor: Professor Craff," she said, which relieved Remus immensely. She was a professor. Of course she would help.

On the last couple of words, Professor Craff almost sounded Welsh. Remus knew what a Welsh accent sounded like—his mother had one, and he teased her about it all the time. "Are you Welsh? You don't have much of an accent," he asked, hoping that the question wasn't too personal.

"I went through great pains to get rid of my Welsh accent. You had a slight one when you first started talking to me, but it's faded now."

"Oh." Remus had no idea that he had an accent. He resolved to pay more attention to that. "My mum's Welsh. I lived in Cardiff until I was about five."

"That's where I live right now." Professor Craff held out her hand. "What's your name?"

Remus looked at her hand. He wasn't sure that she would still want to touch him after he told her. Professor Dumbledore had told the whole staff, hadn't he? They all knew that there was a werewolf at Hogwarts named Remus Lupin. His heart started to beat a little faster. He briefly considered lying, but he knew that it wouldn't do him any good.

"Remus Lupin," he said, stuttering very slightly and keeping his hands by his side.

Sure enough, Professor Craff's expression hardened immediately and she dropped her hand. "Oh."

Remus shifted his weight to his right foot uncomfortably. "So... where am I? I'll be on my way as soon as you tell me."

"First floor. Where are you headed?" Craff's warm voice had been replaced by something much sharper. Remus did not like her new voice one bit.

"Er, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom."

"Don't you go there every day?"

Remus had been beating himself up over the same thing ever since he had realized that he was lost. "I... I mostly follow my friends around. I wasn't paying attention; I'm so sorry, ma'am—Professor..."

"Go up that set of staircases and then turn a left, a right, and then another left." Craff retreated back to her classroom and closed the door somewhat harshly. Remus wiped his cheeks—they were very hot, and his hands were blessedly cool—and followed her instructions.

While he did so, he forced himself not to think about anything but werewolves to punish himself for being so incredibly stupid. Besides, he needed to practice thinking about werewolves for his detention, didn't he?

He finally arrived at the Defense classroom and knocked on the door. "Come in," said Questus. Remus did so and glanced around the room. "You're seven minutes late."

"I'm so sorry, sir; I was thinking and I lost my way and I..." Remus noticed that his hands were shaking a little bit. That was weird. He wasn't nervous or anything.

Questus sighed in an exasperated sort of way. "Calm down, Lupin! I've never seen you so jumpy, and that's really saying something. You're nearly always anxious. My goodness, stop scrunching your shoulders. Sit down. Right here." Remus did, and he sat on his hands in an effort to stop the shaking. "What on earth happened?"

"I... I got lost."

"Well, I know that. You just told me. My memory isn't that bad, though yours clearly is if you got lost on your way to my classroom."

Remus winced. "I met a professor on my way here."

"Which one?"

"Professor Craff. She was a... a very big help."

Questus snorted. "Oh. Yeah. She doesn't like werewolves much."

Questus' bluntness never ceased to surprise Remus. "I got that, Professor. She wasn't that bad, not really. I... she has nice hair."

"You don't have to be nice," said Questus. "I'm certainly not going to chide you for being unkind; it's not as if I'm ever very nice. I hate Craff, and I know for a fact that she hates me just as much—perhaps more. And you should have heard her comments about Dumbledore letting a werewolf into the school. You probably want me to tell you that she doesn't hate you, that she'll warm up to you, and that she's not that bad when you get to know her, but..." He snorted again. "Those are all lies, every single one. Still, I think you should take Arithmancy. It's a good subject. You'll like it."

Remus actually very much did want to take Arithmancy. His father had loved the subject, but Remus wasn't sure that he could sit through her class, and he felt terrible about making her uncomfortable. "I don't know, sir."

"Please do. I'm not fond of Craff, and it serves her right to... Oh, that's not very tactful, is it? Dumbledore told me I need to work on that. You know what? I'm going to say it anyway. I don't like her much, and I really want her to have to endure your presence as punishment. Besides, I think you can do it. It'll be good practice. It's not as if you'll be treated much better than that once you leave Hogwarts."

Remus winced once again. "Right."

"Anyway. I was going to have you clean something or write lines, but I noticed that we have an upcoming lesson in the first-year curriculum on treating werewolf attacks. I'm sure you have experience?"

"No, none. I know nothing of werewolves," said Remus before he could stop himself.

Questus didn't bat an eye. "Watch your sarcasm, Lupin. I was hoping that you could provide some... extra information. Greyback's getting a little more prominent, and I guarantee that at least one Hogwarts student will encounter him at some point in his or her life. So I want my students to be prepared. The Dark Arts wait for no one, as you very well know."

Remus felt a little guilty about his earlier thoughts about Questus. He wasn't interrogating Remus to satiate his own curiosity. This was for a legitimate—even noble—cause. Of course Remus would help. "That's a good idea, Professor," he said, and Questus nodded.

"Of course it is. Now. About the upcoming lesson. You should know that I'm not going to sugarcoat anything..."

"Do you ever?"

"Fair point. But I'm not basing this lesson off of my own opinions. Like it or not, there is no proof whatsoever that werewolves are actual people whilst in human form. Most think that they're just monsters masquerading as people, who trick humans into getting close to them and then attack once they've gained the victim's trust."

Remus knew the theory. It was dead wrong, obviously. Remus was uncertain about many things, but he was certain that he had no intention of attacking his friends. "I actually don't understand that, Professor," said Remus. "Wouldn't it be fairly simple to get proof?"

"And how would the Ministry go about doing that?"

"Legilimency?"

"They have the daft idea that werewolves can manufacture fake memories."

"Pensieves?"

"Those only show outward actions, not internal thoughts."

"Veritaserum?"

"No proof that werewolves are affected at all by Veritaserum."

"But... Ministry workers do use Veritaserum on werewolves and count it as viable proof," said Remus, thinking of the time that it had been given to him. It had been very unpleasant. "Same with Legilimency."

Questus looked like he was about to ask a question, but he looked at his watch, made a face, and seemed to decide against it. Remus was very thankful. "What can I say? Their logic is flawed."

Remus frowned. "I see."

"The Ministry are messed up, Lupin. I worked there as an Auror; I should know. Most of the people who work there are good people, overall, but there are a few that you need to watch out for. Actually, let's be honest: there are lots of awful people who work in government. Anyway, I'm going to teach my class both theories and let the students decide on their own. So please don't be surprised when I tell them that werewolves may or may not be violent killing-machines twenty-four-seven."

Remus winced again. "Professor... do you... think...?"

"I have no reason to believe that you are what the Ministry says you are. The outside evidence suggests that you are indeed capable of human emotions."

"That's not a very objective answer, sir," said Remus, feeling slightly ill. Did Questus really think that Remus was only pretending to be a person? That he was violent and bloodthirsty all the time? That he was a monster that deserved to be executed? Remus knew, logically, that some of the other teachers believed those things... but he'd always thought of Questus as a very rational person who didn't care at all what Remus was—didn't even care enough to be tactful, in fact.

Questus sighed and ran his hand through his graying hair in a manner reminiscent of James Potter. "Again, I have no reason to believe otherwise. I tend to disagree with the Ministry on such matters anyway. I know what a monster looks like, Lupin. I told you, I've met other werewolves. I've come face-to-face with Greyback. I did believe the Ministry up until recently... but Dumbledore's very convincing, and you don't look like a monster to me. A wimp, maybe. Not a monster. But you understand that, if I should be proven incorrect, I would do anything to protect the students at Hogwarts."

Remus blinked.

"I am a cautious person. You should know this. But I refuse to discriminate unless proven that I should. So, if you give me no reason to do anything otherwise, then I shall continue to regard you a student like any other—if not slightly more hardworking, which is admirable—just as I do now."

"So..." Remus did not know how to feel. It was a bit of a backhanded compliment, he thought. "You're saying that... you don't think that the Ministry's claims are correct as to my... emotional capacity... But you aren't making any definitive claims, just in case they are? And you want to be prepared for anything?"

"That's a very good way of putting it, yes."

"Do you..." Remus swallowed hard. This was a bit of a bleak topic, and he felt awkward discussing it with a teacher—with anyone, really. "May I ask what your views are on execution? You know... some think that all of... us... should be executed to avoid further contamination or death, since it can only be spread by werewolves?"

Questus was silent. "Well, that would solve the problem, wouldn't it?"

Remus felt as if he had been slapped.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. That would solve the problem... if they could successfully round up every single werewolf. But they can't. So a lot of good people would be dying for nothing. Well, some good people. Others would deserve it entirely."

That wasn't much better. "So you honestly think that, if all the werewolves could be collected into one place, that we should just... die? To protect the human population?"

"Isn't that what you would do? You seem like the type of person who would be willing to die to protect others. You are a Gryffindor, after all. That's typical Gryffindor behavior, isn't it? All that noble nonsense."

Remus thought about it. He would. He would, without a second thought. However... "I'm eleven," he said. "I shouldn't have to think about such things."

"You're also a werewolf, with a much more complicated life than most eleven-year-olds," said Questus. "But you're right, and it's never going to happen. It's not a plausible solution at all, and the Ministry are perfectly aware of this. I'm guessing you're Registered?"

Remus nodded.

"So you know that anything of the sort is bound to miss the odd werewolf, and therefore useless."

Remus nodded again.

"They've been trying to catch and kill Greyback for years; a decree intent on murdering every single werewolf certainly wouldn't help their efforts. They'd only be killing Registered werewolves, which aren't the ones that we have to worry about. On top of that, the first werewolf had to come from somewhere. There's probably a way, somehow, to become a werewolf without being receiving a bite. And then the whole mess would start up all over again."

"I suppose."

"Anyway. We've gotten side-tracked. Werewolf attacks. Powdered silver and Dittany helps, hm?"

"Yes, sir."

"And is that the only thing that will help? How exactly does it work? Does it prevent scarring as well? Why silver? Are you affected by silver in its natural form?"

"Woah." Remus couldn't help smiling. His father often asked rapid-fire questions in succession like that—never about werewolves, but on other subjects. Remus' father was a natural-born, stereotypical, inquisitive Ravenclaw, and this sort of reminded Remus of home.

Questus leaned back in his chair. "Sorry. Just... explain as much as you can and then I'll ask questions to elaborate."

"Yes, sir. Er... it is the only thing that helps, to my knowledge. Except time. But the silver and Dittany speeds up the healing process considerably. Smaller wounds from werewolves, since they're cursed, will take a couple of months to heal fully... and a couple of days or weeks to stop bleeding completely. But they'll stop on their own eventually. The larger ones, since they take so long to stop bleeding, need either silver and Dittany or a large supply of constant Blood-Replenishing Potion or else the person will bleed to death. That's why it's so necessary when a person is initially bitten. Werewolves..." Remus determinedly looked at the wall. "They aren't known for their... restraint."

Questus' eyes were bright, and Remus was slightly disturbed by how excited he was to receive this information. Dark information like that should not, logically, be exciting. "And how does it work? The silver and Dittany, I mean."

"It... it seals the wound. Not completely—there's still some leaking and things; I still have to wear a bandage and it's sensitive. But it stems the blood flow, at least, and it heals five times as quickly. I'm usually mostly healed up by the time the next full moon rolls around."

"And the scarring?"

"It's usually... bad. The larger wounds scar pretty badly. All bites and scratches from werewolves, by definition, leave a permanent scar. If it's caught in time, though, they can heal to the point that they're... almost invisible."

"I've noticed the ones on your hands, but you don't have any on your face."

"I usually stay away from my face on the full moon. I... don't know if all werewolves do that... but..."

"Hm. And I suppose the initial bite scarred?"

Remus nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Does silver affect you, then, when it's not powdered and mixed with Dittany?"

"No. But the powdered silver and Dittany feels a little different from plain Dittany."

"How so?"

"I dunno. More... tingly?"

"I see." Questus was taking notes now, and Remus felt very odd to see his teacher taking notes while he did the teaching. Questus seemed to have the same thought as he looked up and noticed Remus' odd expression. "It seems the roles have been reversed, hm?"

Remus smiled weakly.

"Right, then. Does a werewolf bite differ any from another injury? The initial one, I mean."

Remus blanched. He did not want to think of that night. It's detention, he reasoned. I'm not supposed to enjoy it. "Er, yeah. You know what's... what's happening, right? Anatomically?"

"Yes. If I remember correctly—which I do, seeing as I read this particular passage seven times—werewolf blood is cursed, and very different from human blood. Different consistency and all that. So, from my personal deductions, all the blood in your body has to be replaced somehow after the initial bite...?"

"I guess." Remus wanted to dig a hole in the ground, bury himself alive, and never resurface. "The curse spreads and... travels to the heart, and then all of the subsequent blood that it pumps..."

"Is cursed as well. Yes, that's how I thought it might happen. So you did not transform on the night that you were bitten?"

"No, sir."

"Because it hadn't yet diffused itself completely in your bloodstream."

"That's correct." Remus wished that Questus would stop using the second-person singular. Why did they have to talk about Remus specifically? Why couldn't they talk about werewolves as a whole?

"Yes, that's what the books said. But how did it feel? They didn't mention that."

"I dunno," said Remus. "Uncomfortable. Like fire."

"Fire?"

"Like burning? I was... I wasn't really... present."

"You were unconscious."

"I wish... No, I wasn't... paying attention."

"Disassociated?"

"I don't know... maybe? Don't think so. Just drowsy."

"But you remember the attack itself?"

Remus' throat suddenly grew tight. "Yeah," he managed to squeak. "Er... vividly. Though I didn't understand what was going on at the time... I was young, and... and in a lot of pain... and things."

"Hm. I can see you're not going to tell me much about the attack itself, so I won't ask. Why silver, may I ask? Do you know?"

Remus was thankful for a less personal question. "No clue. But I don't know why other potions ingredients are why they are, either."

"It has to do with magical properties."

"I guess the same applies for silver. It's literally magic. It's not scientific or anything."

Questus snorted. "I suppose you're right. Anything else? Advice? If you knew that someone in the class was going to be bitten by a werewolf, what would you say?"

"It's not being bitten that's the problem, though..." said Remus. He immediately regretted bringing it up. But Questus was right: maybe it would help someone.

"It isn't?"

"No. It's right painful and all that. And lots of people die from werewolf bites, depending on how many other people are in the area and how much restraint the werewolf has...especially Muggles. But... but the first transformation, depending on how old a person is, is what's really dangerous."

"How so?"

"Sir, I..." Remus loved the business-like perspective that Questus was taking. He was easier to talk to, Remus found, than even Dumbledore. He had an almost frightening lack of pity, and he didn't really react to anything that Remus said—except with unnatural curiosity and intelligence. All the same, there were things that Remus did not find himself capable of talking about. Fortunately—or unfortunately, either way—Questus was both blunt and sharp enough to fill in the blanks.

"Because not everybody can handle their skeleton rearranging and their skin stretching and their bones melting and shifting and..."

Remus cut him off as quickly as possible. "Yes, sir."

"Hm. And I'm assuming that, the younger the werewolf, the less likely he or she is to survive?"

"Yes, sir. Goes the other way, too. Elderly people aren't likely to make it through."

"I remember reading that the youngest are typically six. Five and a half is heard of, but less common. How old were you, again?"

Remus did not want to answer. "Nearly five."

"So how...?"

Remus twiddled his finger underneath the desk. "Dumb luck."

Questus scribbled down some more information and then looked at Remus again, making a sort of uncomfortable, intense eye contact. "I see. Well. That should be enough. I wanted to keep you longer, but it's clear that you don't have much tolerance for such topics. Very unfortunate. They're fascinating, werewolves, aren't they?"

"...Not really."

Questus snorted a bit. "Well, of course you wouldn't think so. But you've given me plenty for a more informed lesson. Besides, I know all of the technical information from Madam Pomfrey."

"How much did she tell you?" asked Remus, slightly horrified.

"Far less than you did." He rolled up his notes and tucked them away. "Thank you, Lupin. That's very helpful, and you were..." Questus made a face. "Brave. It was uncomfortable, I could tell. I stand by what I said before, though. You should probably get used to it, and you should work on being a little less sensitive. Don't want anyone figuring out your secret based on your speech patterns and body language, now do we?"

"Yes, sir. No, sir. Thank you, sir."

"And, thanks to you, your classmates will be receiving an accurate lesson on werewolves. Not diplomatic, and not sugarcoated, but accurate, at least. Perhaps if one of them is bitten in the future, then they will know what to expect. That, as I'm sure you know, helps immensely."

"Not always," said Remus quietly. "Sometimes it's better when one doesn't know."

"I don't agree, but we'll agree-to-disagree because you don't look up for a debate. Though that might be fun. You're free to go, Lupin. Do try not to react too much to the werewolf lesson when it rolls around. Wouldn't want you to be ousted from the school with a pitchfork or anything."

"May I ask you a question first?" asked Remus. This particular question had been weighing on his mind for some time now.

"Of course."

"Were you in Slytherin?"

Questus rolled his eyes. "Yes, although I don't think it's your place to discriminate."

"I'm not!" Remus had been telling himself the same thing for ages. "I just... can see it, that's all."

"How so?"

"You were an Auror, so you had to have been ambitious..."

"Incredibly so."

"Cunning, I guess..."

"Don't mean to brag, but yes."

"And you're... manipulative. Loads of Slytherins are."

Questus looked a bit surprised. "How do you figure I'm manipulative?"

"I can tell you're curious about me... nothing's wrong with that, of course. My dad was a Ravenclaw, I know all about his fixations and stubbornness when it comes to curiosity. But you've been telling me that you're asking questions for the benefit of your lesson, and I... can't see lots of that being useful. I think you were just curious, and using the lesson as an excuse to get information."

Questus' mouth was hanging open slightly, and he closed it quickly. "Elaborate."

"The questions were a bit... erm, personal. Not all of them, but some of them."

"Hm," said Questus. "Yes, you're right. I didn't think you would notice. You're a bit brighter than I gave you credit for, Lupin. The questions, for the most part, were so that I could have a better understanding and teach the lesson more thoroughly. But yes, I am much more curious than is prudent. I didn't even realize that I was doing it, myself—but you are entirely correct. You are very good at reading people. Maybe you should look into researching Legilimency. You might be good at it."

Remus had no intention of doing that, but he was very proud of himself. He got that from his mum. "Thank you, sir," he said.

"You don't mind?" said Questus, studying Remus' face. "The curiosity, I mean."

Remus did mind, very much. He thought about how to tell Questus this as diplomatically as possible. "I would rather people know the truth than make unfair speculations, and it is refreshing to talk about it... sometimes... but it's a little unsettling that you're so curious about my personal life. Seeing as you're my teacher."

Questus snorted once more. "I suppose it is. I shall try to stop asking so many questions. Maybe. You should get back to your dormitory now; I need to prepare my lesson." Remus turned to leave, but Questus stopped him once more. "Oh, and Lupin? You're a lot more self-pitying than I have patience for, but you're a bit better than I initially thought you'd be. Overall, you're not half bad."

Truly, a compliment of the highest caliber. "Nor you, Professor."

Remus liked Professor Questus.

AN: Once again presenting... Professor John Questus, my absolute FAVORITE non-Remus character to write (followed only by Dumbledore!). He's so incredibly flawed and annoying and unique. Very complex motivations, interesting relationships, very long, complicated backstory (though none of that will be fully introduced until much, much later)... truly the best character I have ever written, imo. Originally, I just used him for exposition purposes (I needed to explain werewolves in my universe and I wanted to make the explanation part of the plot), but he's evolved. I think that the chapters from his perspective that I have written are... maybe eleven. It's insane. Fair warning: this man is going to play a very, very large part in the story (just because I like him so much lol).