"Okay, let's talk," said Madam Pomfrey as soon as Remus had finished his sandwich. Remus sighed.

"Talking won't help," he said. "You already know what it's about—I'm sure you've guessed—and I don't want to relive everything."

"Okay," she said simply. "But we need to fix this. Don't you agree?"

"I think the potion helped," said Remus. Why couldn't they just take the easy way out and let him take it every night? That would get rid of the nightmares, and there would be no talking required. Remus desperately wanted an easy fix. Nothing in his life was ever easy, it seemed, and he wanted a simple solution just this once.

Or at least a solution of some sort. Remus' biggest problem was incurable and therefore had no solution whatsoever.

But if the solution was "talking," then Remus would respectfully opt out. The notion was ridiculous.

"I can't give the potion to you all the time," said Madam Pomfrey, effectively crushing Remus' dreams of a simple solution. "It helps with occasional problems with nightmares, but not if they're constant."

"I don't need it all the time—just this once. I can't keep doing this!"

Madam Pomfrey held firm. "Of course not. No one's asking you to. But I think we need a more permanent solution."

"Like what?"

"Well, there's no potion that zaps nightmares forever... but we can try the Muggle way."

"The Muggle way?" Remus racked his brain. His mum was a Muggle, but she'd never given him sage Muggle advice pertaining to nightmares. Then again, Remus hadn't really had nightmares at home—they'd only started when he'd gotten to school.

"Constant sleep schedule. Warm baths. Relaxing," said Madam Pomfrey.

"Do those really work?" asked Remus. He thought they sounded a bit platitudinous.

"Yes, of course. You just need to relax a little more before bed. I imagine the nightmares are worse immediately following the full moon, so focus on those periods and be prepared."

"Okay... that's reasonable. I can do that."

"And Remus—you need to actually talk to someone when something is bothering you. You can't just keep it all pent up. It helps; I promise. If something's wrong, my door is always open, as is Professor Dumbledore's."

"Okay." Well, Remus had no intention of doing that.

Madam Pomfrey, however, was oblivious to the fact. "Starting now," she said. "No excuses. Talk. What's the problem?"

Remus inwardly groaned. He didn't want to talk about it. Why didn't she understand that? But he also didn't want to lie (he'd already done enough of that around his friends), and besides... he was desperate. "Well," he said, "I'm terrified to close my eyes. I'd say that's a pretty big problem."

"What was the dream about?"

There was a long pause, and Remus' notions of "telling the truth" flew right out the window like Sirius' owl after it delivered the post. "Actually, I'm very tired," he fibbed. "And I think I'm entirely okay now. No problems whatsoever. I'm going to sleep."

"Absolutely not. You're just going to have another one if you go to sleep in this state. Tell me about it—it'll help. Normally, I wouldn't push students, but I know you, and I know that talking helps. You aren't avoiding the subject because you're afraid of reliving it; you're avoiding it because you're ashamed."

"So what if I am?"

"It's just me," said Madam Pomfrey. "And, if I may remind you, I've seen you before and after full moons—there's no reason to be ashamed around me."

That was a valid point. But... "I don't know where to start," said Remus helplessly.

"At the beginning?" said Madam Pomfrey with a surprising amount of snark.

Sometimes, Remus really didn't like Madam Pomfrey. But he was desperate. And maybe it really would help. "Er... I was in the common room, with my friends—"

"Black, Potter, Pettigrew?"

"Yes, them—and then I looked out the window and there was a..." Remus trailed off.

"Full moon."

"Yeah. And I tried to tell them to get out and get a teacher but they were... too slow..."

"Right."

"And then I..." He coughed a little and looked at the wall. It was a good thing that the lights were dimmed, because Remus was certain that his face was bright red. "The worst part is, I wanted to. In the dream. Like during the full moon in real life—it is me, it's just me with a different purpose—so I want to kill them. I actually do. I don't even notice how terrible it is until just before I wake up." He tapped his fingers on the sheets anxiously. "It's not the full moon right now. That shouldn't happen. Everybody says that I have human emotions and morals and such unless it's a full moon, but I don't, because I didn't have any just now... and it's not even a full moon! So what if...?"

"Dreaming about doing something isn't the same as actually doing it."

"I know that, but..."

"I dreamt that I was a dinosaur just four nights ago. Do I look like a dinosaur to you?"

Remus laughed. "A little," he said, and Madam Pomfrey swatted his arm.

"Of course not. I'm not a dinosaur, and you aren't anything but yourself save one night a month. It's as simple as that."

"Right," said Remus. "That makes sense." And, now that he'd thought about it more rationally, it did make sense. He loathed to admit it, but talking it out had helped... a little, only a little! "Still. Knowing that doesn't help with the nightmares, and I don't fancy closing my eyes to my dead family and friends every night."

"Of course you don't. And that's why we're going to fix it. How about you take a Dreamless Sleep Potion for right now, and I'll think about it more tonight?"

As Remus fell asleep, he thought about sheep. He thought that it might take his mind off of the horrible dream...

It didn't, but it was a good try.

Just like after every full moon, Remus woke up halfway through the night to Madam Pomfrey whispering and hovering and pressing a cold cloth to his face. He felt like he'd been run over by the Hogwarts Express. "Thanks," he managed. "What time is it?"

"One in the morning," she whispered. "About six hours left before it's time to wake up. Do try to go back to sleep."

Remus did, and there were no nightmares.

The next day, Madam Pomfrey delivered him his mail. "There's the Daily Prophet, a letter from your parents, five from James, one from Peter, and a very official-looking one," she listed. "Do you know what that last one may be?"

Remus froze. He'd completely forgotten. "I forgot!" he said. "It's from the Ministry!"

Madam Pomfrey waggled her finger in his direction good-naturedly. "Did you break another law? I thought I told you to stop robbing Gringotts!"

"No, it's... a summons," said Remus. He didn't even have energy to laugh at the joke. "From the Ministry. The Registry." He snatched the letter from Madam Pomfrey's hand and opened it up as quickly as possible. "Oh, no."

"What is it?"

"It's..." Remus groaned. "I can't believe they did this. They're supposed to give us more notice than that..." He read it again, but the letters did not change. "It's on the sixth."

"Of February?"

"No, January!" He groaned again, even though it sort of hurt his throat. "That's about half a week away! They can't just tell me to drop everything three days before the event..." Remus needed to calm down. He breathed: in through his nose, out through his mouth. "I guess they can, technically. They're the Ministry. But still!"

"It's not the same day every year?"

"No, they change it up depending on when the full moon is... and sometimes just for spite, I think."

Madam Pomfrey looked a bit disturbed, but then she smiled. Remus was surprised. He didn't think that the situation merited any sort of smile whatsoever. "Well, the sixth is perfect," she said. "We can meet your parents in Hogsmeade, and then they can take you. You just send me an owl when you're done, and then someone can take you back to the castle."

Remus blinked. That was a very good solution, actually. Why was Madam Pomfrey always so rational? "Okay. Thanks."

"Of course. Now, why don't I draw you a bath?"

That evening, Professor Questus came to visit him, which was a bit of a surprise. He'd showed up to visit Remus after every full moon, yes... but it was Christmas holidays. Remus thought that he'd be... well, not home with his family, since he'd claimed that they were all dead... not spending time with the other professors, since he didn't seem to like any of them... not singing Christmas carols, because that was just ridiculous... well. Remus didn't know what exactly he'd expected Questus to do instead, but visiting a werewolf was certainly last on Remus' list. "Professor," Remus protested, "it's Christmas holidays. You needn't visit me."

Questus crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "I know, but I'm incredibly bored," he said with a grin.

"I know you're just saying that so that I won't feel guilty, and I think that—"

"Think about that, Lupin. Does that sound like something I would do?"

Remus thought it over. "No, I suppose not."

"There you have it. Now, I thought that you might be bored as well, and I figured that I'd help you learn ahead a little."

"Professor, you needn't..."

"Stop doing that. If you want me to leave, just tell me to my face. I don't have any patience for stepping around the subject. Do you want me here?"

Remus mulled that over. The truth of the matter was: he really was bored. "Yes, sir. If you're all right with staying."

Questus rolled his eyes. "Sure. I came here of my own accord, but I'm not 'all right with staying'. Use your brain, Lupin. I knew you didn't expect me here; the only other reason to come is that I wanted to."

"Yes, sir." Remus straightened his blankets and fiddled with his robes nervously. He felt a bit weird having a visitor—after all, his hair hadn't been combed, he was sure that he had terrible bags under his eyes, and he was in his pajamas. Professor Questus didn't seem to mind, but still.

"Good," said Questus. "Now, I thought that you might as well learn to duel—"

"Absolutely not!" shrieked Madam Pomfrey from the main ward. She came rampaging into the room like James Potter after a Slytherin Quidditch win, throwing open the door and nearly slamming it behind her. Remus hadn't even realized that she'd been listening. "Even if we ignore the fact that first-years should not be duelling—they're too young!—then there's still his health to think about! I will not have my patient overexerting himself while he's poorly!"

Questus rolled his eyes yet again. "It's not a practical lesson or anything. I just thought I'd go over a few points. Tell a few stories. Make sure that he's prepared."

"And why would he need to be prepared? There's nothing that he needs to be prepared for! He's a first-year!"

"A first-year werewolf," said Questus, and Remus flinched a bit. "You honestly think that everyone's going to just accept him? Let him go free, if they find out what he is? I've said it before, and I'll say it again: the Dark Arts wait for no one. It does not matter how young a person is—he or she can still be in danger of death at the hands of a Dark wizard, a Dark creature—" Remus flinched again. "Or even a Dark plant." Madam Pomfrey suddenly went a shade paler (though Remus couldn't think why) and Questus smiled triumphantly. "Seeing as Lupin is in immediate danger of being attacked—because he's a werewolf—I think he needs to learn to defend himself."

"He is in no danger at Hogwarts," said Madam Pomfrey sternly, still shaken by Questus' earlier comment for some reason.

"Perhaps not. But what about summers?"

Madam Pomfrey turned to face Remus, and Remus jumped a little. He'd almost forgotten that he was there. "Yes, Remus, what about summers? Have you ever been attacked by anyone?"

Remus did not like being caught in the middle.

On one hand, Madam Pomfrey had been so kind to him—had healed him and comforted him and helped him with nightmares. She only wanted what was best for him, really, and she was an experienced matron. She knew what she was doing.

On the other hand, didn't Professor Questus have much more experience with such things? Dark magic? Questus had been an Auror, and Remus was willing to bet that, before Remus, Madam Pomfrey hadn't had much experience with Dark magic at all. And the fact of the matter was, Remus had been attacked before. He'd been hit with the Cruciatus before, though it had been a very weak one. And he wouldn't be surprised if he was attacked again in the future... and maybe next time it wouldn't be bored, vindictive boys from Durmstrang.

And also... learning to duel sounded so cool!

"I haven't been attacked recently," he said slowly, trying to please the both of them. "When I stay inside, then the only contact I have is with my parents—so I don't really ever get attacked..."

"There you have it," said Madam Pomfrey, a note of finality in her tone.

"What do you mean, when you stay inside?" pressed Questus. "And what do you mean, recently?"

"Well, there were some incidents when I was younger, before I realized how important it is to stay away from... from humans..."

Questus looked at Madam Pomfrey pointedly, but she defended herself immediately. "I think that he has it mostly figured out now, though, right?"

"He said if he stays inside," said Questus. "Do you really want an eleven-year-old boy to spend every minute of his summer completely isolated from people and public places? During his formative years, at that?"

Madam Pomfrey threw up her hands. "Yes! No! I give up! He's not even allowed to use magic outside of school; knowing how to duel certainly wouldn't help!"

"Students are allowed to use magic outside of school if it's an emergency," said Questus.

Remus held up a finger. "Er, Professor, I need to be a little more careful than other students..."

"Because the Ministry won't go easy on you if you use underage magic for any reason. Because you're a werewolf. Yes, I know. But I'll vouch for you—former Auror here. And if you're with another wizard or witch, then the Ministry won't know it's you."

"If I'm with another witch or wizard, then I don't need to know how to duel..."

"Unless said witch or wizard is the one attacking you?"

"I'm never really far from my father..."

"Well, now you can be. And learning to duel early on is extremely useful—the more years you know how, the more practice you get, and the better you'll be as an adult."

"But he doesn't need to know how as a first-year!" said Madam Pomfrey again.

"A war is brewing..."

"Oh, stop it with the war!"

"Avoiding talking about it doesn't change the truth. We're in one. We've been in one for years."

"It's only Dark magic, we've always had that around..."

"Mark my words: this war will reach its height during Lupin's lifetime. Unless he dies tomorrow, which is entirely plausible."

"Even more so since I don't know how to duel," murmured Remus, and Questus winked.

Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey didn't seem to hear Remus' comment. The figurative smoke that was coming out of her ears was surely clogging them up. "We are not training children to fight Dark wizards for us!"

"No, we're training children to defend themselves against Dark wizards. Who do you think will be the first people that they try to recruit? Talented people, the young and easily molded, people with ties to Albus Dumbledore, and Dark creatures—Lupin is, unfortunately, all four. Are you really that dense, or are you simply ignoring the fact that Lupin will be in immediate danger as soon as he sets foot outside of this castle? Goodness, he may very well be in danger even inside the castle. We never know when someone might figure it out and try to dispose of him..."

Remus tried not to blush when Professor Questus called him "talented", but Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes and pulled out her wand in a threatening sort of way. "You. Are. Scaring him."

"I don't think I am, actually."

Both pairs of eyes turned to look at Remus, who tried to look neutral and scared at the same time. It didn't work, and he only managed to look confused. "It... it can't hurt, can it, Madam Pomfrey?" he said uncertainly. "If it's not a practical lesson, I won't overexert myself... and, well, Professor Questus is sort of... right, isn't he?"

Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes further. They were almost closed at this point.

"I'm bored," he said in a very small voice. "And I like learning."

"Fine," said Madam Pomfrey, closing the door a little more forcefully on her way out. Then she opened it back up to glare at Questus. "If you scare him, then I swear you are never setting foot in this Hospital Wing ever again..."

"That's some thanks for filling in for you last month," said Questus impatiently. "See you, Pomfrey."

Madam Pomfrey borderline slammed the door on her way out.

As soon as she was gone, Questus turned to Remus and shook his head in disbelief. "Sometimes I think that woman has no brains at all," he muttered. "Good heavens. The world isn't all Flitterblooms and Unicorns. As a matron—a matron who cares for you every month—she should know that by now."

Remus did not deign that with a response. "You don't suppose she's angry with me?" he asked timidly.

"So what if she is? If she's angry at the truth, that's her fault. Not yours."

"Even if it's not my fault, I don't want someone to be angry with me."

"Well, you can't escape that. I'd wager that a great number of people are angry with you for even existing." Questus studied Remus' face. After a few moments, he shrugged and shook his head. "But no, Pomfrey couldn't be angry with you if she tried. She's angry at me, not you. I would have thought that'd been obvious. Now, what do you know of the war?"

"Sir, I thought..."

"We'll get to duelling later—you have to know the enemy first. What do you know about Voldemort?"

"He's... a Dark wizard who recruited people he calls Death Eaters... and even people who aren't Death Eaters join him because they want to have a better future."

"Like who?"

"Like... I can't think of any but Dark creatures. Giants. Werewolves."

"Right. Fenrir Greyback and his lot. He's still working for Voldemort, I believe. Not so much because he thinks he'll have a better future, though—he just wants more victims. Though I suppose, to him, that is a better future."

Remus tried desperately to hold still and stop that cursed quivering. He was being stupid.

"People are terrified of Voldemort," Questus continued. He was using his Lecture Voice. Remus always found the Lecture Voice amusing when it was just the two of them—it felt so out-of-place in a small Hospital Wing. "There's a small circle of civilians, steadily rising, who won't even say his name. You-Know-Who, they call him. He only declared himself as behind the numerous attacks... what, last year? He's a terrorist, basically. Attacks all sorts of innocent people, and his army is growing stronger as we speak. I wouldn't be surprised if you're thrown headfirst into all of this when you leave school, whenever that may be. Same with your friends. Potter and Black are going to join the fight, I guarantee it."

Remus did not want to think about the future. He wanted to stay a first-year forever, in a neat little box of comfort and fun and friends. He didn't want to think about how it all, inevitably, had to end. He didn't want to think about the war.

"It's so annoying," Questus scowled, catching Remus off-guard and making him jump. "I hate how the teachers refuse to inform the students about what's coming. I often say a war is brewing, but I'm referring to its climax—the war has officially begun. People like Pomfrey are still denying its existence, even though it's all over the news. It's literally official. How dumb do you have to be? There have been attacks left and right. It's been brewing for a very long time—thirty years, about. I was an Auror, so I saw Dark activity rise myself. It's still rising—you read the Prophet every morning, right? What you see in there is only half of it. And children deserve to know. What adults fail to realize, most of the time, is that children die too. They're not invincible. And depriving them of the skills that they need to know, simply because they're too young, is doing them a great disservice. Don't you think?"

Remus did agree, for the most part. "Yes, sir," he said hesitantly. "But... er. Never mind."

"You're allowed to disagree with me, you know."

"Okay." Remus pursed his lips, thinking of how he could phrase this without bringing himself into the discussion. "What about trauma... and things?"

"Elaborate."

"Forcing children to grow up too early can... affect them for the rest of their lives. Growing up in a... well, a safe and happy environment can do great services for children, can't it? And the opposite could be a disservice just as much as lack of information."

"True. As I'm sure you know all too well," said Questus. So much for Remus' attempts to keep himself out of the conversation. "But which is better? To live on with some bad memories, or to die at an early age? Some things can't be stopped, and knowing how to deal with them is imperative. I'm not arguing that wars are good. I'm arguing that a war is here, and we should be prepared."

"Yes..." Remus considered. "I suppose... Well, I think that Madam Pomfrey's mindset is better in times of peace, but yours is in times of war."

"Very diplomatic," said Questus, smirking a bit. "And seeing as we're in a time of war. Now, why don't we start talking about duelling?"

AN: Ever have those moments when you realize that your sleep schedule probably isn't healthy