The next couple days passed, and they were wonderful. Professor Sprout actually looked Remus in the eye when he answered a question in class. Professor McGonagall praised his Transfiguration (and he got another point from her towards the Competition!). Professor Sidus canceled their full moon assignment since it fell over Christmas holidays. James and Sirius started talking through the mirror to each other, even when they were in the same room, and Remus wore his Gryffindor jumper. Logically, Remus should have been on cloud nine.

But he wasn't.

He couldn't stop thinking about the impending Christmas break. Sirius, James, and Peter had been by his side since the very first day—since Diagon Alley, even, in James' case—and Remus couldn't imagine Hogwarts without them. He couldn't imagine walking the corridors without Sirius' jesting, without James' big ideas, without Peter's giggles and whispers. He couldn't imagine life without the clicking of Sirius' camera, couldn't imagine sleeping alone without James to comfort him after a nightmare, and definitely couldn't imagine eating meals alone in the Great Hall.

Remus had been lonely for a long time, yes, but he'd never actually been alone. His parents had never even left him home alone, since his mother didn't work and his father always loved to see him. Remus' solitude usually consisted of either reading a book on the couch next to his mum or dad, or staying in his room, knowing that his mum was just downstairs. That was why the dark loneliness of the cellar or the Shrieking Shack was so jarring. He'd been lonely, but never alone. Truth be told, Remus' parents seemed a bit overprotective at times—not that Remus had anyone to compare them to—and, after Remus had been nearly killed by a giant magical wolf, that made sense.

He supposed he wouldn't be alone over Christmas, either. The teachers would still be there. But the prospect of Hogwarts without Remus' friends felt so lonely that Remus wasn't even sure he wanted to stay anymore.

And imagining Hogwarts without Sirius, James, and Peter led to a much darker thought—imagining life without Sirius, James, and Peter. And then, even though it was a stretch, that though led to the thought of a life in which his friends did not exist—because they were murdered—by a werewolf. Remus' dreams were haunted with visions of blood and teeth and fur and...

"S'only a dream, Remus," muttered James, and Remus exhaled and put a hand over his heart, as if trying to make it stop beating so rapidly.

The next morning was the twenty-second, and classes flew by. Remus' friends were to leave the very next day.

Remus dreaded being alone throughout Transfiguration. He dreaded it throughout Flying. He dreaded it throughout Herbology. Potions class was last, and Remus was still dreading it. He dreaded so much that he accidentally put the wrong ingredient into the potion, which earned Remus and Peter a P for the day.

At the end of class, Slughorn came up to Remus and asked him once again to come to the Slug Club Christmas party. "You can leave the party whenever you'd like!" he coaxed. "And Peter may have an invitation even if you do come."

Remus thought about it. He knew that his friends were all going, and he did not want his last evening in the dormitory without his friends—for three weeks!—to be one of solitude. But he also didn't want to attend a loud party. He glanced at Peter, who nodded encouragingly.

"I'll think about it," he said softly.

"Wonderful!" said Slughorn. "Wonderful. Excellent. I'll see you this evening, then!"

Remus hadn't actually confirmed that he would come (he had said 'maybe', hadn't he?) so Slughorn's enthusiasm made him uncomfortable. "I suppose," he mumbled, and then half-hid behind his friends as they exited the dungeons.

"Did you really say that you would come?" squealed Peter. "Oh, we're going to have so much fun!"

Remus was surprised in spite of himself that Peter actually wanted him there. They're your friends, he reminded himself. They want you around, that's just how friends are. Even so, he always got the feeling that Peter wanted Remus gone so that he could be alone with James and Sirius, whom Peter idolized... but of course that wasn't the case. They were friends. "I hope so. Do you know how many people are in the Slug Club, James? Sirius?"

"About thirty last time, but he sort of weeds out students every now and then," said James. He was frowning. "And everyone is allowed to bring a guest. He even promised to invite some of his adult friends—past members of the Slug Club. Look, mate, you don't have to go. Horace's got no right to pressure you like that."

"It's not like I'm deathly afraid of parties," Remus said, alarmed at James' serious tone. James was never serious. "I just... don't like them."

"But I saw you at that party after the Quidditch game! You were standing in the corner, and your face was all white, and you weren't breathing. You're ill, remember? You could get sick again!"

"I'm not that ill!" Remus very much regretted ever telling James that he was ill, even though it had solved a multitude of problems. James was making a big deal out of it, and Remus didn't want it to be a big deal. "And it just caught me off-guard. That's all. I've never been to a party before. Now that I know what to expect..."

"Now that you know what to expect, you'll be stressing about it all day," said Peter, his excitement gone.

"I will not!"

Sirius snorted. "Yeah, you will. You may be secretive, but we do know you."

"If you don't want me there, I'll just stay in the dormitory. But please tell it to me straight, at least..."

"We do want you there!" James ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "Why do you have to be so complicated?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's a joke! Listen, not everything we say means that we secretly hate you, because we don't! Just... calm down!"

Remus forced himself to breathe. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. "I'm calm."

"Okay. Good. Look, it doesn't matter what we want. We want you to be happy, Remus. That's all. Just as you would want for us, right? What would you do if I were in your place? All we want is for you to avoid being all uncomfortable doing something that you don't want to do. That's all. But we like your company, too. It's your choice, completely."

"I appreciate it," said Remus as calmly as possible, "but I didn't tell you I was ill earlier because I didn't want this to happen. I don't want to be babied or anything. I can go to a party. It's just a party."

James grabbed Remus' arm and started pulling him towards the lavatories. "Go on to the dormitory, Sirius. I need to talk to Remus."

"Ouch," said Remus. "Let go, I can walk."

"China doll," James taunted, and kept pulling him until they were inside the lavatory. James pushed Remus into a stall and shut the door. "I think this room is empty."

"It's empty," Remus confirmed without thinking. Then he remembered that James didn't have his superhuman senses. "I mean, I think it is. What do you need to tell me? It's really cramped in here."

James leaned in very close (which made Remus cringe a little) and whispered, "You can't tell anyone. Well, you can tell Sirius. He already knows; I told him, like, two days ago. But you can't tell Peter. Or any of the professors."

"Why are you telling me, if Peter's not allowed to know? Peter's one of us, too."

"I'm telling you and Sirius because you need to know. Peter doesn't need to know."

Remus nodded, afraid to argue.

"The thing is... I have a horrible, terrible secret."

Remus could relate.

"I... well, I..." James ruffled his hair. "Can you promise, actually? That you won't tell anyone?"

"You don't have to tell me..."

"I want to. But first you've got to promise."

"I promise."

"No, no, that's not enough. You have to solemnly swear it."

"I solemnly swear it."

"Okay." James sighed dramatically. "Er, it's not my mum who's afraid of cockroaches. You know, like I told you before." He sighed again. Remus wondered if he would get lightheaded from all the sighing. "It's me."

Remus blinked. "Okay."

"You're not going to laugh?"

"James, more than half the population is afraid of cockroaches."

James groaned. His hair was thoroughly messed-up at this point. "No, like, I'm really, really scared. Really scared. Found one in my room a couple months ago, right before I left for Hogwarts, and I... You won't laugh?"

"I'm not going to laugh."

James made a face. "I cried. For forty-five minutes. Ugh, you're going to laugh, aren't you? Sirius laughed."

"I'm not going to laugh. I promise I cry ten times as much as you do."

"You do, don't you? Mr. Fragile China Doll."

"Careful, James, you're the one telling me your deep, dark secret."

James grinned. "You're right, I'll shut up. My point is, I know what it's like to be deathly afraid of something for no good reason, and I don't want you going to a party if you're afraid of it. You know?"

"Thank you so much for your concern," said Remus slowly. He didn't want to offend James. "But... well, I'm not afraid of parties. Just a bit uncomfortable. I'm not used to them, but I'll be fine. And I'll leave early if I want to. But this is the last night I have before you lot leave and I think it might be fun."

"If you're sure," said James. "But if you look all white and wide-eyed like you did before, I'm dragging you out of there before you can even say Slug Club."

"Yes, sir," said Remus with a little salute. "Now can we get out of here? I don't really fancy spending my afternoon in a lavatory with a self-obsessed Quidditch player."

"Good. I don't want to spend my afternoon in here with Loopy McWolf-Man. Imagine my reputation..."

"What reputation?"

"Git."

James and Sirius (to Remus' chagrin) insisted on lending him some robes for the party. "You don't have to wear full-on old-fashioned dress robes with frills and all that," said James, "But don't wear plain black ones! Here, borrow these. They're red."

"I don't think they'll fit him," said Sirius. "He's thinner than you are, James. And that's really saying something."

"Not by that much," protested James, "and I'm only a couple of inches taller than he is."

"I can't take your robes, James. My black ones are good enough."

"But Peter's got colored robes! And I'm already giving red robes to Sirius. And I'm wearing some. So we can match!"

Remus, after much coercing, finally took the robes and changed into them behind his curtains. They were a little large, but most of Remus' clothes were too big for him anyway. Even better, the new robes completely covered up the scar on his shoulder.

Thirty minutes later, all four well-dressed Marauders were walking down the corridor to the Slug Club party. James didn't stop talking the entire time, and Sirius kept looking down at his Gryffindor-red robes. Remus had to admit, it was relaxing wearing something that smelled so strongly of James. That was a little strange to admit, even to himself, but Remus already knew that he was strange.

"Remus Lupin!" bellowed Slughorn, and Remus cringed. "Well, well, well! You ended up coming! Come in, come in. You boys are very well-dressed. Yes, yes. The festivities are in full swing!"

Remus could tell. It was so loud—louder and more chaotic than a Quidditch game, with shouts and screams and house-elfs running all around and the scents of tens of students and food and confetti and music—the music was so loud—and his skin was all clammy and the full moon was less than a week away...

Remus smiled at James, who was looking worried. "I'm fine."

"You're pale."

"I'm always pale."

"He's got a point," said Sirius, laughing. "Come on, James, let's go dance!"

"I'm not leaving Remus all alone. He's scared..."

"I'm not scared!"

"Boys, boys, boys," said Slughorn ambivalently. "I actually have someone that I want Remus to meet! Wonderful person. Very famous! I invited him here myself."

"I'll come," said James immediately.

"No, no!" chortled Slughorn. "You go dance! He'll be with me. He's okay! Right, Remus?"

Remus nodded. "You three have fun. I'll catch up later."

Sirius pulled James away, and James didn't protest. Peter followed them, his face alight with happiness.

And then Remus was alone, just like he would be in mere hours.

Wait, no. He wasn't alone. Unfortunately, Slughorn was standing right next to him. Remus would have preferred solitude.

Slughorn put his hand on Remus' shoulder (the left one!), and Remus jumped and shooed his hand away instinctively. "Calm down, my boy! I'm not going to hurt you! There, now, this way, then..." Slughorn was shouting over the music, and Remus' ears hurt. He let himself be guided away, trying not to inhale too deeply.

Slughorn stopped in front of a man with a large gob of curly, greying hair and blue eyes. "Here, this is who I wanted you to meet! Have fun, you two!" Slughorn said something else that Remus couldn't quite make out before ambling away.

Remus, who now thoroughly regretted coming to the party, glanced at the man (out of the corner of his eyes, since it was impolite to stare). The man was tall. He was holding punch. He, like Remus, very much looked as if he wanted to be somewhere else. Remus stood there silently, unsure of what to do. "Well, this is awkward," said the man.

Remus tried to laugh. "Er... yeah."

"Yes," the man repeated, and then he lowered his voice a little. "Listen, I... well, I'm not a fan of parties. Too stuffy and loud. Slughorn's watching us, but if I create a distraction... we can slip out the back. Undetected. Sound all right to you?"

Remus nodded a little. He wasn't sure what the man meant by "distraction", but he reminded Remus a little of James. And James' ideas were sometimes stupid, but usually worked out.

The man reached into a briefcase and pulled something out, clenching it tightly in his hands. "Here, watch carefully," he said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He opened his hand wide, and three pixies flew out.

Remus gaped.

The pixies flew around the room—one landed right on top of Slughorn's balding head, and chaos ensued. The man motioned for Remus to follow, and Remus did. Sure enough, there was a door in the back of the office, and Remus managed to slip through without Slughorn noticing.

They ended up in the corridor, and Remus kept following the man. He guided Remus through another door. Now they were standing directly in front of...

"A broom cupboard?" Remus asked in disbelief.

"Shh!" said the man, pushing Remus into the cupboard. It was a very large cupboard, as cupboards go, and there was plenty of room for the both of them. Much better, at least, than the lavatory that he had been in with James earlier that day. The man entered behind Remus and shut the door, lighting up his wand so that they could see. "This is the largest broom cupboard at Hogwarts," he explained. "I spent plenty of time in here when I was your age."

Remus was confused. Why would anybody spend that much time in a broom cupboard?

"No, no," said the man suddenly, looking at Remus' face. "Not... not snogging or anything... how old are you?"

"Eleven," Remus said.

"Oh. That's probably not what you were thinking, then. Er, I didn't have a lot of friends. Came here to be alone. I don't like people much. Honestly, I'm surprised: this cupboard is in exactly the same condition as it was when I left. Sorry to push you in here, I just thought that perhaps Slughorn would come and hunt us down. I'm... er, I'm quite famous; he was pushing me to come for what seemed like hours. I didn't want to, but he's... persuasive. Annoying, more like."

Remus giggled a little. He was entirely overwhelmed.

"Er... I'm not sure why he wanted us to meet. Not a big creature fan, are you?"

"No, sir," said Remus.

The man waved his hand. "No need to call me 'sir'. I never grew up to begin with." The man chuckled nervously, and Remus was amused in spite of himself.

"You said you're famous?"

"Yes. A little. I wrote one of the textbooks. And did a bit of field work, some research, you know. I'm currently writing a children's book. Did a few political things, too, though I'm not proud of all of them. Erm, don't tell anybody. I don't... I don't really like being famous? I know that sounds like such a privileged problem, but I'm not a fan of being stared at."

Remus could relate. "May I ask you your name?"

"Oh! Right. You must be so confused; how impolite of me." The man stuck out his hand. "Newt. Newt Scamander."

Remus stared at his hand in horror. Newt Scamander?

"Do you know who I am?" the man asked.

Remus knew exactly who he was. Of course he did. Every werewolf on earth knew who Newt Scamander was, and not for good reasons. This man—the polite man standing in front of Remus Lupin, who was a werewolf—had created the Werewolf Registry.

"N-Newt... Scamander? Er, I..."

"Are you okay? Are you ill?"

This man was the reason that Remus had to suffer every single January—was why he was questioned by people who hated him—was why the Ministry knew about his condition and hated him for it. Remus had read Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. It was one of the most famous books on earth, and it had been penned by Newt himself. Remus had memorized the paragraphs that Scamander had written on werewolves. It was all correct, of course, but was also very scholarly. Remus ran through the words in his head, and there was no indication as to whether Scamander hated werewolves or not. No bias whatsoever—not one way or another.

It didn't matter, though. It didn't matter! Even if Scamander didn't hate werewolves, his actions had certainly proved that he did. How could someone who respected werewolves as people possibly think that they should be marked and listed like animals? It was humiliating, it was degrading, it was the worst part of the year by far besides Remus' twelve annual transformations...

Remus hated Newt Scamander.

Did Scamander know, though? If he had created the Registry, did he keep up with it? Did he pop in every so often and check the lists? Had he met Remus before? And why on earth did Slughorn think that Remus would want to meet Newt Scamander? Of all people?

Scamander dropped his hand and leaned in a little closer. "Being a magical creatures expert, I can read body language fairly well. You don't like me, do you?"

"I... sir, I..." It was not flattering that Scamander had just compared Remus to a magical creature, though he probably hadn't meant anything by it. Remus thought he might be sick.

"What's wrong?"

"I... er, my friends are waiting for me. I think. I should go..." Remus tried to open the door, but Scamander had locked it. "Sir! I really need to go..."

Scamander held his hands up. "I'm not going to hurt you; I just want to make sure you're okay. In my experience, frightened animals tend to do reckless things—and although you're not an animal yourself, I like to think of magical creatures as people."

Remus was confused. In essence, Scamander had just compared him to an animal again. But then he said that magical creatures were people. Scamander was tilting his head now, and Remus felt a little like some sort of specimen of which Scamander was trying to gain the trust. The thought did not improve matters.

"I'm not going to do anything reckless... I only want to find my friends..."

"Pixies," said Scamander, completely ignoring Remus' pleas. "The Cornish variety. Not sure what they're doing now, but that horrid man certainly deserves it. Er, don't tell him I said that. There are only three, of course, but three can wreak as much havoc as ten. Fortunately, any somewhat adept witch or wizard can get rid of them. I expect someone has it under control. Most every staff member probably knows that they belong to me, of course, and will keep them safe until I return. Cornish pixies also recognize faces, and they know that I'm the one who feeds them. I've set them on numerous people, and they've found their way back every time. Quite useful, don't you think?"

"You shouldn't use a magical creature," Remus said boldly. During Scamander's speech, his fear had well given way to anger. "For any means. They're not tools."

"Good point, good point," said Scamander, unfazed. "I always try to give them a choice. If they prefer, they can go back into my briefcase. But I find that pixies often like wreaking havoc. So it's more of a win-win situation. I know what they want, trust me."

"I don't," Remus mumbled.

"Know what they want? Well, taking Care of Magical Creatures in your third year might help with that. That was my favorite class, you know..."

"No, trust you. I don't trust you, sir, and I want to leave."

In through his nose. Out through his mouth.

"Oh." Scamander still did not look hurt; more like thoughtful. "Well. I suppose humans need choices, too. I'm sorry for keeping you here, I thought that perhaps I could help you feel more comfortable. But I, er, often overestimate myself. Hope you're all right. You don't look well, you know."

Remus tried the doorknob, but Scamander was still rambling, and the door was still locked. "I don't know a thing about humans, to be honest," Scamander babbled. "My wife always wants me to stick around, even when she verbally asks me to go away. Confusing, if you ask me. Not all magical creatures are the same, but at least they don't get bogged down with words. Language is ever so confusing, don't you think? Creatures don't do things like sarcasm and lying."

This one does, Remus thought dryly, and jiggled the doorknob a little more loudly. Scamander was obviously lost in thought, however. "I can't think of why you wouldn't like me, though. Oh, well... er, that sounded pretentious. I mean, you seemed to like me all right before I told you my name. What have I done that merits such fear? I don't think I'm particularly terrifying. I mean, not everything I've done has been good. Never really been proud of the..." Scamander's voice trailed off and his eyes drifted to meet Remus'. There was silence.

This was it. Scamander was going to kill him. Turn him over to the Ministry. Tell everybody.

"Well, that makes sense," Scamander mumbled. "Er. This complicates things, doesn't it?"

Remus suddenly remembered that he was a wizard as well as a werewolf. He pulled his wand out of the pocket of James' robes and tapped the door. "Alohomora," he said, and then he fled down the corridor.

Remus never once imagined that he'd be escaping to a party instead of from it.

It had been a very long day for Newt Scamander.

He was trying to catch a Pixie who was swimming in the punch when Slughorn tapped him on the shoulder. Newt inwardly groaned. "Sorry, Horace," he said. "The Pixies must have gotten loose while I was..."

"No matter, no matter!" said Slughorn lightly. "Where's...?"

Newt held up a hand. He really didn't want to know the boy's name. That would only complicate things further, and he figured that the boy deserved as much privacy as he could get. Newt lowered his voice. "You wanted me to meet him because... of his condition?" Newt wasn't a hundred percent sure that Slughorn knew, so he was being intentional about stepping around the subject. Although he wasn't sure how the boy could attend Hogwarts without the staff knowing...

"Of course!" said Slughorn, absolutely jovial and not nearly quiet enough. "Seeing as you created the Werewolf Registry. I figured he knew who you were! Oh, and there's someone else I want to introduce you to... a boy in Slytherin, an absolute magical creatures whiz..."

"Please lower your voice; I assume you're sworn to secrecy and we're in a public place," said Newt sharply. Slughorn definitely knew... unfortunately for the boy. "Do you actually know what the Registry is?"

"Of course," Slughorn scoffed. "The sub-department in the Ministry that keeps the Werewolf Register. I know you're much cleverer than I am, but I do know some things!"

"It's not pleasant, the Registry," said Newt. "Not pleasant at all. Sort of like..." Newt hesitated. He wasn't sure how to word this. "Sort of like staying at St. Mungo's, but you feel fine and all the Healers hate you and treat you like a criminal."

"Hm," said Slughorn, not comprehending this at all. That was fine. It hadn't been a very good analogy, after all. "So, how did it go? I figured you two would get along. You have a lot in common, you know..."

"Werewolves don't like me, Horace," said Newt slowly. He couldn't fault Slughorn for failing to understand a complex topic that didn't concern him at all, but it was a bit annoying. "I made their lives twice as complicated. The Registry was a good idea in theory—it felt necessary during the war—but it's incredibly badly-kept. So all it does is alienate werewolves even more. If they're Registered, they're subjected to dealing with the horrid Ministry workers who keep it. And the only werewolves that really need to be monitored are the Unregistered ones. I am not very well-liked in the world of werewolves."

"Oh," said Slughorn, looking remorseful now. "But he's..."

Newt shushed him. "I do not want to hear his name, or any other information about him. Just..." Newt rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Leave him alone, would you? I'm sure he has enough to deal with. Now, where is this Slytherin student of yours?"

Remus was hiding behind the curtains in the back of the room, drinking a glass of punch. It tasted a little odd so close to the full moon (the strawberries were over-ripe), but overall not bad. He wasn't exactly sure what to do.

On one hand, maybe Scamander wouldn't tell anyone. Then Remus could continue to stay at Hogwarts, even though he knew he was on borrowed time and his friends would find out at any moment. On the other hand, if Scamander did end up telling someone, he could be in serious danger. Logically, he should be in Dumbledore's office by now, all packed up and ready to go.

But he just couldn't bear to leave Hogwarts, even though it was loud and stressful and he was terrified out of his wits. Remus was a little odd like that. Perhaps, he thought with a smile, it was the Gryffindor in him: recklessly staying in a place that could turn on him at any moment. It was stupid, Remus knew, but maybe James and Sirius were rubbing off on him.

Or maybe it was just because he was all emotion-ed out today.

Suddenly, the curtain pulled back and Scamander was only a few feet away. Remus wasn't sure what to do, so he nodded at him and took another sip of punch. Maybe Scamander was going to curse him within an inch of his life. Or actually kill him. Or turn him over to the Ministry and come up with a false story about how he was an irredeemable monster.

Well, he was an irredeemable monster, technically. One night a month, at least. And there was nothing Remus could do about it now, was there? Remus figured that he really was emotion-ed out; he was usually much more expressive than this.

"Hey," said Scamander, a little breathlessly. "How are you?"

Remus looked at him and blinked. "Wonderful."

"I'm sure," said Scamander with an odd sort of laugh. "Er. I'm not going to tell anyone. Thought you ought to know."

Remus nodded slowly. "Thank you." He wasn't sure what else to say.

"Well. Have a nice day." Scamander turned to leave, and then paused and turned around again. "And... I'm sorry. Really." Then he gave Remus a small smile—still looking him in the eyes, to Remus' great surprise—and said, "Sorry. Leaving now."

Remus watched him go, entirely befuddled. Then he went to go join his friends, who were trying to teach a wayward house-elf how to dance. It was his last evening with them, after all, and what was a little noise and discomfort compared to what was going to happen next week?

Looking back, Newt was glad that he had gone with the simple apology. Because really, there were no words. Being famous and influential had more disadvantages than perks, but Newt had always been a responsible person.

Somewhat, he thought with a snigger as he remembered how he failed History of Magic for five years straight.

AN: I totally forgot about this chapter until I started editing it! I wrote it right after a friend forced me to watch Fantastic Beasts (she bribed me with popcorn). I prefer the original HP books, of course, but it wasn't half bad, and I wrote this while it was still fresh in my mind. It's a little bit different from the rest of the chapters (it's more of a Christmas-special interlude than anything else), but I hope you still enjoyed it!