Finally, Remus was out of the Hospital Wing. And, until the sixth arrived, he all but lived in the library. There was nothing else to do, really, even though Madam Pince gave him dirty looks whenever he so much as breathed.

When the morning of the sixth finally dawned, and Remus made his way to the Hospital Wing at six o'clock sharp. Madam Pomfrey wanted to check him over one more time before he was "out and about in the cold all day".

"How are you feeling?" she asked, unwrapping his leg so that she could make sure that it was continuing to heal properly.

"Well, thank you."

"Any nightmares last night?"

There had been, but it wasn't a nightmare that made him wake up in a cold sweat. It was more of the type of nightmare that made him feel weird and apprehensive whenever he thought of it. Something about the war, and about Voldemort trying to recruit Remus, and Remus told him that he wasn't going to join him, and then Peter showed up and played Gobstones with Remus. Voldemort wanted to join in, but Peter wouldn't let him. Something about it being a two-player game. Then Peter offered that Voldemort could play the winner. And then Remus protested that he didn't want to play Gobstones with Voldemort, and then Peter said that it didn't matter, since Remus was losing anyway.

All of that had made sense to Remus at the time, but now it did not. And every time he though of dream-Voldemort, all cloaked and telling Remus that he would have a better future in his ranks, Remus felt a little weird. He hadn't liked that dream one bit.

But it hadn't been a nightmare, so Remus wasn't really lying when he very confidently said, "Nope. None."

"Good," said Madam Pomfrey. "Professor Dumbledore had an idea about how to prevent future nightmares, but we can discuss that another day. Are you really wearing that to Hogsmeade, Remus? Your school robes might be warmer than your play robes, you know."

"I don't know how the other werewolves will react if they find out that I go to Hogwarts."

Madam Pomfrey nodded slowly; Remus could tell that she wanted to argue. But she didn't. "Don't forget your winter cloak and scarf..." she chided.

"Right here."

"Ready to go, then?"

Remus grinned. "Absolutely."

He always dreaded Registry Day nearly as much as he dreaded the full moon, but the fact that he would have a pleasant hour and a half in Hogsmeade with his parents and Madam Pomfrey sweetened the deal considerably, and Remus was thankful for it.

It was a long walk to Hogsmeade, and a quite unpleasant one in the snow. But seeing the village, caked in snow like something out of a picture frame, was glorious. It was even better than the time that he'd been with his friends. It was downright beautiful. Scotland didn't always have good weather, but today was the perfect day for an outing.

Remus spun his head around and around, looking at all of the shops. There was a music shop—Zonko's—Honeydukes—a clothing shop—there was so much to see. Remus had been before with his father, of course, but it had been a long, long time ago. It seemed different now, as a Hogwarts student of eleven. He felt so grown up.

"This way," directed Madam Pomfrey, leading him around a corner to the Three Broomsticks. The shop smelled wonderful—of butterscotch and sugar and people. They walked inside, and Remus noticed his parents immediately, sitting together at a small table in the back.

There they were!

Before he knew it, he was being absolutely smothered, and his mother was gushing about how much she'd missed him, and his father was appreciating Remus' scarf, and Bufo was croaking into Remus' ear.

Remus loved Hogwarts, but he'd missed his parents ever so much. He allowed himself to inhale deeply... to take in the familiar scents that he'd grown up with but hadn't been around for so long... to listen to their voices... and to be around these people that knew him well enough to avoid the scar on his left shoulder. It was second nature, the things that his parents did to help him and make him feel comfortable. He didn't need to explain every little quirk of his to them. He never had to explain things to them. They knew him so well they were an extension of him, and they were actually here! He was here! They were all here! Nothing could make this moment better.

"Is it really only you two?" he said reproachingly. "I must say, I was hoping you'd bring Garrison."

"Sorry to disappoint," said his father, smiling. Remus hadn't seen his father's smile in a very long time. He'd missed it.

"Garrison is much to unruly to bring anywhere," huffed his mother, crossing her arms. Her eyes were smiling, though, and Remus had missed that, too. "I still haven't forgiven your father, you know, for accidentally letting him escape that one time."

"She made me sleep downstairs the night after," Remus' dad informed him in a stage whisper.

"But enough about us," said Remus' mother. "Have you been behaving?"

"Oh, you know me," said Remus. "I never behave. I've been turning the school upside-down. Joined the Quidditch team. Fought the Giant Squid. Turned some of my peers into frogs."

Remus' dad shook his head, feigning sadness. "I knew it. We've raised a troublemaker, Hope."

"Comes from your side of the family. And here I was hoping that we'd have a quiet, studious son who reads and memorizes poetry for fun. How wrong I was."

Madam Pomfrey, who had been quietly watching from the corner of the pub, smiled and shook her head. "You two are just older versions of Remus, aren't you?" she said.

Remus' mum's head turned, and she noticed Madam Pomfrey immediately. "Oh, Poppy! I'm so sorry, I didn't even notice that you were here. Just so happy to see Remus, you know? But I'm very glad you're here! I've only ever met you once in person!"

"Right? Of course! Understandable! How have you been?"

"Quite well, thank you! I've never been here before, but Lyall comes here with Bryson often. He picked out that table, over there. Says it's out of the way. Let's go sit down, shall we? The other people in here are giving us odd looks."

"Let them look," said Remus' dad. "They're only regulars. They see plenty of odd things, and there's enough noise and hubbub in here that they probably aren't all looking at us, anyway." In spite of his words, Remus' dad led them to a table. Remus sat in the chair next to him and across from his mother—Madam Pomfrey sat to his diagonal.

"I've had Butterbeer before, of course," said Remus' mum. She was talking faster than she normally did—but then, she had never had much to say around the house. Remus' family knew everything about each other after spending six and a half years with no other company, so Remus' mum never had much to tell Remus that she hadn't already. But now things were different. Everything was different. "But I don't know what some of these things are. Firewhiskey? What's that supposed to be? Whiskey made of fire?"

Remus' dad laughed, and Remus scooted his chair closer to him and leaned into his jacket. There was the distinct scent of ink and parchment and yarn and home. "That's the long and short of it, Hope. Wizards aren't very creative when naming things, I'm afraid." Remus' dad put his arm around Remus. Remus closed his eyes. Everything was so familiar.

Suddenly, he caught the scent of someone coming very close to the table. He sat up, a little embarrassed to be hugging his father in public. He'd never been embarrassed before, but, well, now he was eleven years old. That was ancient. "What'll it be for you four?" said the person—she was a lady who looked to be in her twenties.

"Just four Butterbeers, I think," said Remus' dad. "Does that sound okay to everyone?"

Remus didn't even have to nod—his father already knew his response. It was lovely to be known so well that he did not even have to communicate verbally.

The lady left, and Remus' mum started chattering at warp speed. "Tell me more about your friends. Your classes are still going well? You're not too bored? Is there anything you need? You weren't serious about joining the Quidditch team, right? And..."

"I think there's plenty of time for that later," said Remus, and his mum's face fell.

"Right. The Registry. I'm very sorry it has to be today."

"It's fine," said Remus. Ha, Madam Pomfrey couldn't do anything about the forbidden word now. "Honestly. I get to spend all day with you."

"And well into the night, if my memory serves," his father grumbled.

Remus' mum started talking to Madam Pomfrey, and Remus listened for a bit—until the subject matter turned to him and his health, which made him very uncomfortable. He decided to have a separate conversation with his father. "Has anything interesting happened?" he asked.

"Not really, besides the things I've told you about in my letters. Everything's very boring at home."

"And at work?"

"Even more boring. But there's... there's something I need to tell you." Remus' father glanced around him furtively, which implied that he was about to start talking about werewolves. Remus cringed. Talking about werewolves with his parents was always so uncomfortable. "Orion's manning part of the Registry this year."

"Who's Orion?" asked Remus. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

"Orion... Orion Black. Your friend's father."

Remus suddenly felt very cold. "Are—are you serious?"

"I joke about a great many things, but I'd never joke about something like this."

"How can we—I mean, will he tell...?"

"I have no idea what he'll do. Chances are, he won't be working in your department. But if he does, then we're going to need to ask him to keep it a secret. He'll be sworn to secrecy, most likely."

"And if he doesn't...? If he's not?"

"Then he'll tell his son—at the very least—and you'll have to leave Hogwarts."

Remus was silent.

"I just thought I should let you know in advance. From the pictures you've sent me, Sirius Black is the spitting image of his father, and I... I didn't want it to alarm you, if you happened to recognize Orion at the Ministry."

"I understand. Thank you."

"So Sirius Black isn't showing any signs of... hostility? He's not starting to figure it out?"

"No."

"I'm very worried about you. I've met Orion Black a few times, and the Black family in general is influential, powerful, and very bigoted. It's likely that Sirius Black will end up being... violent."

"Because of his family?"

"Well, yes. If he's grown up around those beliefs and that power, then there's no telling what he could and would be capable of. I just want you to be safe. But—again—I trust your judgement. You're often better at reading people than I am. Just ask your mum—I never say the right thing."

"I've told you—Sirius isn't like his family."

"I know. But you've only known him for a few months, and you can't change the fact that he's got the Black blood and nature..."

"I'll thank you not to discriminate based on blood and nature, Dad," said Remus, a little too sharply. Oops. He hadn't meant to sound angry—honestly, he wasn't angry one bit. But it had come out all wrong.

Madam Pomfrey and Remus' mum had stopped talking, and were now looking at Remus and his father. Madam Pomfrey looked concerned; Remus' mum looked a little angry.

"Lyall Lupin, you need to think before you speak," she scolded.

Now Remus' father looked absolutely gutted, which was not something that Remus had intended at all. "I didn't mean it like that," Remus' father said quickly (and very, very guiltily). "I'm sorry, Remus. You know I don't... I'm sorry. You know I don't think those things. That was my fault."

Remus shook his head and laughed. "It's not a big deal. I'm not angry. I just wanted to make my point."

He'd forgotten that he wasn't supposed to reference werewolves around his family. He'd forgotten that his father always became guilty, and his mother always became sad, and now he was seeing traces of all that in their faces, even though this was supposed to be a happy occasion. He fumbled for a different subject to talk about, just to clear the air and get rid of the heavily hanging words in the air. "What time is it?"

"We have another hour, I think," said Remus' mother; thankfully, she embraced the new topic without question. Remus noticed a slight break in her voice and suddenly felt very guilty for forgetting how uncomfortable the topic of his lycanthropy made her feel. "Shall we walk around for a bit?"

"Yes, please," said Remus. His voice was too cheerful. "When was the last time I came here?"

"Not since you were seven," Remus' dad responded, looking guiltier by the second. "Let's go to Gladrags Wizardwear. You need new shoes."

"I don't," protested Remus. Madam Pomfrey had tried her best to fix his shoes after he'd accidentally taken them to the Shrieking Shack, but they were still cut up and scuffy. "These still fit fine."

"They've been too small for a year, Remus," said Remus' dad. "We've plenty of money to spare. Your mum and I are thinking about taking a vacation."

"You do? You are?" said Remus. That was wonderful news. They didn't often have enough money to spend on new clothes—Remus was always careful to keep his own in prime condition. Suddenly, he realized why his family had enough money to spare: it was because they now had one less mouth to feed, because the expensive werewolf was now gone from their house, and because they were saving a fortune on potions and medicines.

Now he felt guilty again.

"Yep! Here, it's just down this street. Oh, did your mother tell you about her family reunion? There were some quite humorous stories..."

They walked to Gladrags together, laughing and smiling, and suddenly, everything felt normal. Better than normal, even.

"It's time to go," said Remus' mum, checking her watch. "Do you know how to get us there, Lyall?"

"Of course. I've done it before, remember?" He stuck out his hand for Madam Pomfrey to shake. "Thank you, Poppy. Ever so much. For... everything."

"It's no problem at all. Your son is an absolute joy."

Remus almost laughed. He knew that taking care of an injured werewolf after the full moon was not quite as "joyful" as Madam Pomfrey had described, but he appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

"You'll keep writing to me, Poppy?" asked Remus' mum hopefully. "It's one of the only bright spots of my month, receiving your letters."

"Of course. I quite enjoy yours as well." Madam Pomfrey and Remus mother exchanged a quick hug. Remus looked at his father, waiting for it to end so that they could leave. But every time one of them took a step away from each other, a new conversation topic started up and they were chatting once again.

"Women," Remus' father whispered, just loud enough for Remus' sensitive ears to pick up. Remus giggled.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Remus," said Madam Pomfrey, and Remus' eyes widened.

"What? I don't intend on coming to the Hospital Wing tomorrow!"

"I meant in the Great Hall."

"Oh. Okay, then."

"We only have fifteen minutes, Remus," said his father. "Time to go." He grabbed Remus and his mother's arms, and Remus waved with the other hand as he felt his insides twisting themselves into a new, far more unhappy, location.

Ten minutes later, after finding the phone booth and descending to the Ministry, Remus and his parents had arrived. The Ministry had its faults, but they did keep the Registry extremely private. Even though Lyall Lupin worked at the Ministry, hardly anyone knew about Remus. The Registry workers were sworn to secrecy.

That didn't mean that Orion Black would comply, Remus' father had told him. It was possible that Orion had somehow evaded the magical oath. And since his son was one of Remus' best friends, Orion could always just say that Sirius had figured out the truth after sharing a dormitory with Remus for months upon months—and then Orion wouldn't even get a warning from the Ministry. If he was sworn magically like the rest of them, though, then there were certain spells keeping them from divulging the information. Remus didn't know what the spells were like... and he wasn't sure that he wanted to know, frankly.

They walked up to the desk, and Madam Macmillan sneered at them. "Would you look at that. Robert Loopy and his family are still alive."

"Don't sound so disappointed—I might think you don't like me," said Remus sarcastically, and his father flicked his waist with an index finger in warning. "It's so good to see you again," Remus amended cheerfully.

"Yes, yes. Name?"

"Remus Lupin."

"Sit."

"Yes, ma'am!"

For the next two hours, Remus sat on an uncomfortable bench with his family, chattering excitedly about Hogwarts (but keeping his voice down for fear of making the other werewolves jealous). There were enough in the room that Remus did not have to worry about people listening in—they were occupied with their own conversations already. "And then, when we got to Professor Dumbledore's office, they couldn't find the clue! And Professor Dumbledore stepped out and told us that he'd found it earlier, and then handed us another clue—he'd hidden it! Expanded our scavenger hunt and everything! We spent nearly the whole day doing it!"

"That does sound like something he would do," said Remus' dad, smiling.

"Professor Questus found one, too, and he kept it inside his office until we showed up. Did you know that Professor Dumbledore can play the piano? Only annoying pop songs, he says. And there's a piano in the place where I transform—I know I already told you that. It's actually really comfortable, considering. And Professor Dumbledore fixes up the furniture every month, so that I..." He trailed off. He really needed to stop talking about werewolf-related things. His parents were looking quite stricken. "So that I'm comfortable. Ooh, and there's a bed in our dormitory that's completely destroyed. We don't know what happened to it, but Pete and I tried Reparo and it's not fixed. We figure it's some sort of curse, but we can't think how and why it's on a bed, of all things."

Remus suddenly heard a voice to his right. "Remus?"

He knew that voice. He turned around to look at the woman, who was grinning and holding a book. "Susi!"

"How are you doing? You're looking much healthier than last year."

Susi was a werewolf in her early thirties. She's been bitten on the same night as Remus had been, so the two of them had been in the same ward at St. Mungo's. Susi had been wonderful with children, and had talked to Remus whenever his parents had to leave. He'd seen her at the Registry every year since then.

"I'm doing well, thank you. How are you?"

Susi laughed and shook her head. "Goodness, when did you get so old?"

Susi looked older, too. Remus might not have recognized her if her scent wasn't the same—she was looking so much shabbier than the year before. Her blonde hair, which had reached her waist last Registry day, was cropped as short as Madam Hooch's. Her eyes were dull and sad. Her robes were frayed, faded, and had several patches. She looked absolutely impoverished, though she still smelt very strongly of the same lavender shampoo that she always wore.

"Is everything all right, Susi?" asked Remus' father. "You're very thin."

"Oh, yes, everything's all right, Mr. Lupin. I lost my job in August is all."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Susi," said Remus' mum. "You were teaching at the Muggle preschool, correct?"

"No, ma'am, I lost that job a long time ago. Missed too much school, you know. I was working at a shop in Diagon Alley recently, but they started to suspect—so I quit. I wasn't sacked, but I can't go back. And I can't find anything else for the life of me."

"Have you tried Muggle grocery stores? They're usually hiring."

"They require work a couple days a week. It doesn't look good for a new applicant to miss so much time, especially since..." Susi's cheeks colored and she trailed off.

"Since what?" Remus asked.

"Oh, no, it's not a problem."

It very clearly was, and Remus suddenly felt a little guilty for telling Madam Pomfrey that he was fine so often. If this was how it felt, then he was being very annoying.

"Here, Lyall, you stay with Remus," said Remus' mother, her eyebrows crinkled. "I'm going to talk to Susi for a bit."

"Mrs. Lupin, that's not necessary," Susi protested, but Remus' mum was adamant.

"We've known you for a long time, and something is very clearly wrong. So you're going to tell me what it is, and then I'm going to see if I can help." Remus' mum pulled Susi away to the other side of the room. They talked in hushed tones, and the room was loud, but Remus could hear tiny bits and pieces—so he pulled out his book and pretended to read.

"I didn't want to scare Remus," Susi was saying. "He's going to have a hard enough life as it is, and he probably already knows."

Remus' mum said something in response that Remus could not quite catch.

"The fact is, I don't have much money..." She said more, but Remus couldn't make it out. Something about Pain-Relieving Potions and unconsciousness. "I'm unable to do anything for about a week after the full moon..." Oh. Remus was afraid of this. Being alone, not having enough money to patch oneself up, not being able to get a job after spending so much time incapacitated every single month. This was the future he'd imagined for himself, and Susi was experiencing it right now. Remus felt a pang of sympathy.

"We can help. Remus is at school now. We have plenty of extra time."

"Remus is..." Remus missed the next bit, but Susi sounded horrified. "School? You don't mean Hogwarts?"

Suddenly, Remus' dad poked him in the shoulder. "I know you're listening to them. You're staring at your book, but your eyes aren't moving. Stop that; it's a private conversation."

Remus felt very embarrassed to be caught, and even more embarrassed to be doing something so rude.

Then his father leaned a little closer and whispered, "What are they saying?" and Remus smiled widely.

"Shh, let me listen."

"Mrs. Lupin," said Susi, "you don't understand how much society hates people like me and Remus. He could be killed. I'm amazed that Dumbledore let him in. I thought he'd liked me—I was a Prefect!—but did he help when I was bitten only three or four years after leaving Hogwarts? No. And has he done anything for the other young werewolves in Britain? No! He's using Remus, I know he is..."

Remus could not listen any longer. "She's incapacitated for up to a week after the... afterwards. And Mum offered to help; let slip that I was going to Hogwarts, and now Susi's insulting Dumbledore for helping me but not any of the other werewolves."

Remus' dad rolled his eyes. "Grown students are not Dumbledore's responsibility just because they went to Hogwarts at one point. That's ridiculous. Dumbledore is a busy man, and he's taught nearly every witch and wizard in Britain."

Remus nodded. He would never admit it, but Susi's words had gotten him thinking a bit. "But what about other werewolves my age? He's never invited them to Hogwarts. Only me."

"Look around. Do you see any other werewolves your age?"

Remus didn't. They were all adults, with the exception of a boy who looked to be sixteen or seventeen—and he had to have been bitten recently. Perhaps he was already out of Hogwarts. "But what about Unregistered werewolves?"

"If young werewolves are Unregistered, it's because they're with..." Remus' dad's voice trailed off, but Remus knew what he was trying to say.

"In a pack," Remus supplied.

"Yes. And no owl would dare go near those. Parents prefer to have their young werewolves Registered, but not many escape... well. You know what I mean."

Remus did. Greyback was trying to start an army of werewolves, and raising them away from their parents was certain to turn them into killing machines. And other children were either killed or put into the streets, just because parents thought that a werewolf child was an unfeeling monster. He shuddered.

"Furthermore, who's to say that Dumbledore hasn't gone to other children? Who's to say they didn't decline? It's a lot of work, to keep it a secret, and not everybody is up to it. And the fact that you were so young is there, too. Other children are still getting used to the curse, but you manage it well."

Manage it well. Remus would have laughed if it hadn't been very inappropriate, considering the subject matter.

"I just tell you this because... well, first of all, you already know, and second of all, I know that you'll feel guilty about being the only werewolf at Hogwarts if I don't bring it up. You're the only Registered, eligible werewolf, Remus."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Now, why don't you tell me about Peter Pettigrew? You mention him a lot in your letters."

AN: My favorite work written for piano is "Embryons Desséchés" by Erik Satie. It's hilarious, especially if you read French. I listened to it while editing this chapter!