The day dragged on. Remus' father glimpsed Orion Black once and pulled Remus back behind a pillar, but Orion Black was busy working with individuals. Remus hadn't been seen—at least he didn't think so.

The three of them, plus Susi, escaped for a bit to a shop in London while they waited for the Registry workers to finish their ridiculously long lunch break. Telling Susi about Hogwarts was surprisingly fun. She didn't approve, but she listened and smiled, at least. She told Remus all about her time there—how she'd been a Hufflepuff, how she'd been good at Arithmancy, how Dippet had been Headmaster when she was at Hogwarts, and how much she'd loved to play Quidditch (but she never made the team).

The day passed slowly.

Remus really hated being treated like an animal.

But finally, it was over, and then it was time to go back to Hogwarts and catch some sleep.

"Would you like to come home with us, Susi?" asked Remus' father. "We're just dropping Remus off at Hogwarts. You could come in for tea and lodge for a night."

"Absolutely not. I'd never impose like that."

"At least let us find you after the next full moon," begged Remus' mother. "Tell us where you're staying."

"I... I couldn't, Mrs. Lupin."

"Susi, we'll worry about you if you don't. And we already worry about Remus enough. It wouldn't be much trouble. All we'd do is get you cleaned up, and we have plenty of experience..."

"No. I'll be fine. But thank you." Susi's breathing was getting heavier, and Remus got apprehensive. He knew what that meant.

"How about you simply give us your full name?" said Remus' dad. "It's been nearly seven years, and we still don't know it... if you tell us, then we can owl you."

Susi narrowed her eyes and promptly exploded. "Will you just shut up, Lupin? I've been trying to be polite, but the fact of the matter is I don't want help! Not from you! Not from anybody! How do you think it makes me feel, to have to rely on people I barely even know to fix me when I'm bleeding and naked on the floor of my basement? What will it take for me to get you both off of my case? You have your son to worry about; you don't need a homeless lady who can't even find a job. And I'm ashamed to have you fussing over me. So leave me ALONE!"

"Deep breaths," Remus advised, unfazed, and Susi complied.

A moment passed, and it seemed as slow as molasses. "I am so sorry, Mr. Lupin." Her face was bright red now. "So sorry. I..."

"It's all right. I completely understand. I just wanted to help." Remus' father looked a little shaken, as did his mother. Susi's face was redder than James' Gryffindor tie.

"I... I lost control, I didn't mean all that, I'm very thankful..."

"Not a problem. It's fine, Susi. Goodness knows Remus gets annoyed with us for hovering over him. We're parents; it's what we do."

"I..." Susi shut her eyes tightly. "I should go." Before Remus could even say goodbye, she Apparated away.

The silence was deafening.

"Well, I suppose we should be on our way, then," said Remus' dad in a tone that was far too cheerful. "Off the the Three Broomsticks, then, shall we?"

It was only nine o'clock, but Remus and his parents did not want to part. They begged Madam Rosmerta to avoid telling Dumbledore that they were back already, and then they sat in the warm pub and talked a bit more.

"I'm worried about Susi," said Remus' mum as the conversation came to a lull. "She didn't look well at all, poor thing."

"Where do you suppose she lives?" asked Remus' dad.

"Finland," said Remus immediately.

His parents gave him an odd look. "How do you know that, dear?" asked his mother.

"Er..." Remus' face felt a little hot. "You know, she... we've lived in Finland for two months, and she... I can..."

Remus' dad suddenly giggled a bit. "Merlin, Remus, I knew that you could smell food and people and animals, but do you really mean to tell us that you can smell Finland on a person?"

Remus was pleasantly surprised that his parents weren't overreacting. "Yes," he said. "I suppose it is a bit funny, isn't it?"

"What, pray tell, does Finland smell like?" asked his father.

"Err... Finland. Sorry. I can't elaborate any further."

"Finland." Remus' dad was choking a bit now, and he wiped his eyes. "Sorry, Remus. I know you don't like to talk about it. But, seeing as we've hardly ever left the house, I didn't know that about you."

About you? It wasn't about him, Remus thought angrily. It was about the curse, not about Remus. It wasn't a characteristic, like hazel eyes or brown hair. It was a literal curse. But Remus supposed that he and the curse were one and the same, at this point, so he laughed with his father. He was overthinking things, as he tended to do.

And, after all, it was rather funny.

Until Remus remembered that Greyback had used the same means to deduce his father's whereabouts almost seven years ago.

Remus' dad seemed to realize the exact same thing, so the laughter died down uncomfortably. Remus quickly changed the topic, and they began to talk about Quidditch. Remus' father mentioned Rose, his childhood crush, a few times—much to Remus' mum's chagrin.

For years, Remus' father had tactfully avoided the subject of Hogwarts. Remus was certain that he must have told a few stories when Remus was younger, but Remus didn't remember anything before the bite. And after the bite, Remus' father had been totally silent on the subject. After all, Remus' hopes of Hogwarts had been dashed to pieces—why would Lyall Lupin get Remus' hopes up and remind him of all he was going to miss?

But now that Remus was at Hogwarts, the curtain was lifted. Remus heard story upon story of childhood antics, Quidditch, classes, and so much more. Remus' father told him all about exams and spells and duels in the corridors—all about his former teachers—there were some teachers still at Hogwarts whom had taught Remus' father, and Remus found it immensely entertaining to gossip about them.

They had shared a life for so many years, but now Remus had his own life. It was separate from his parents'. It was his own, and nobody else's. And telling them all about it was his new favorite pastime.

Madam Rosmerta even brought them extra Butterbeers, on the house, just for being friends with Madam Pomfrey. "She's a lovely woman," said Madam Rosmerta. "Any of her friends deserve a few extra drinks—especially after being out in the cold for so long. It's late. You must be freezing."

Remus nodded, shivered, and wrapped his Gryffindor scarf around his neck and shoulders. "That's a very ugly scarf," muttered Remus' mother, which she'd been saying intermittently for the past couple of hours.

All too soon, ten o'clock arrived, and Professor Dumbledore Apparated directly into the pub with a sharp, whip-like noise. Remus jumped.

"Good evening," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "I assume the day was about as enjoyable as expected?"

Remus giggled. That was a good way of putting it. "Yes, sir. Exactly."

"It's good to see you again, Lyall. And Hope. I trust you had a peaceful Christmas?"

"Of course. And Remus tells me that Hogwarts was as festive as it ever was." Remus' father's eyes seemed to be alight with memories of Christmases past. "He'll have to send us photos. You can do that, right, Remus?"

"Sure," said Remus. "I think I have one somewhere around that Sirius took, but James is in the background and he's trying to squirt Peter with pumpkin juice. But the tree in the Great Hall is in the photo, I think."

"I remember that tree," said Remus' father. He turned to Dumbledore. "I'm... ecstatic beyond words that Remus is attending Hogwarts," he confided. "I never thought it would be possible. I know... I know he won't have an easy life, but... I'm so glad that he can have this one thing. It means so much."

Remus's cheeks burned a bit; he hadn't expected the conversation to shift to him and, indirectly, his lycanthropy. "Indeed," said Dumbledore simply, who could probably tell that Remus was uncomfortable. "I find that he is well worth the trouble, as all students are. And, talking of Remus, I imagine he's had a long day and is very tired."

"I'm all right, sir," piped up Remus. "I took a nap on the bench in the Ministry. They're very comfortable."

Remus' father snorted. The benches at the Ministry were quite the opposite of comfortable. "Nearly as warm and welcoming as Fawley," he quipped.

"Five out of five stars," said Remus' mum, and the three of them dissolved into giggles.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I must interrupt the joy of the moment by informing you that I did not get my afternoon nap on a Ministry bench, and I... what's the phrase?... need my beauty sleep. Especially since school begins tomorrow."

Remus' jaw dropped. "School begins...? I completely forgot!"

"I suppose that's our cue," said Remus' mum, smiling. "Bye, honey. And... be careful. Write often."

"I promise—unless Sirius steals my quill to throw at unsuspecting Slytherins, which has happened before and is entirely possible."

Remus' parents gave him one final hug, and then Professor Dumbledore took him by the arm and Apparated away.

His eyes were still closed when they were at the castle, but Remus recognized that they were in his dormitory immediately. "Professor...? I thought that one couldn't Apparate in and out of Hogwarts?"

"One cannot. But I can."

"How...?"

"It's magic, so it's best to avoid asking questions. I assume that the clean bed is yours?"

Why did everyone always assume that Remus was the neat one? "No, sir, Peter's the neat freak. Mine is the one with all the books."

"Ah, the books." Dumbledore glanced at the books and smiled; then he looked at the walls, which were plastered with photos. "That's quite a lot of photos," he said, inspecting the one nearest to him (which just so happened to be the picture of James and Sirius getting attacked by the owl during the scavenger hunt).

"Most of them are in Sirius' photo album, but he rather likes the idea of having our room wallpapered in photos. He's an odd one," Remus explained, and Dumbledore smiled again.

"It really adds something to the dormitory," he said lightly, and then he pointed at the decimated bed. "We need to get rid of that extra bed, do we not?"

"What happened to it?"

"Why don't you ask Professor Questus?"

Remus blinked.

"Now, it's getting late. I do, however, have something to discuss with you—are you sure that's your bed?"

"...Yes?"

"The one by the window?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is that why you've been having nightmares?"

Remus still wasn't sure how Dumbledore knew the details of his attack, but he felt very odd about it. "Er... at first, but not really anymore..."

"I can switch the position of your bed and the destroyed one, if you'd like. It wouldn't be any trouble whatsoever."

"No, thank you, sir. My friends would only ask questions, and I... need to get over it."

"You are quite the Gryffindor." Dumbledore was silent for a moment before continuing. "In the same vein, Remus, I have something I need to discuss with you of the utmost importance. Why don't you meet me in my office at some point this week?"

"What day, sir?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter to me. I have all the free time in the world. Show up whenever you should desire, so long as it is not the middle of the night. Sleep well, Remus."

"Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore exited the dormitory, and Remus waited until the sounds of his footsteps had faded before he snuggled under his covers without even bothering to change into his pajamas.

He couldn't wait for his friends to come back.

The next morning, Remus heard shouts and whoops that signified that James, Sirius, and Peter had indeed returned. They came hurtling into the dormitory at breakneck speed, stopped only by James' and Sirius' incessant need to do their Knocks on the door before entering.

"Hi," Remus mumbled. He was very sleepy.

"Aren't you excited to see us?" said James. "You were positively gushing about how lonely you were in your last letter."

"I was not! I was simply complaining. I like to complain. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to sleep some more..." The fact of the matter was, he had missed his friends so much that his heart was pounding at their arrival. But, being an eleven-year-old boy, he couldn't just say that.

"Oh, budge over," said Sirius, and jumped directly on top of Remus. Remus yelped and tried to push him off.

"Geroffmeyougit!"

"Not on your life!"

"Aughhhh! Jameshelp!"

"Sure, I'll help." James hopped on top of Sirius, and now Remus was struggling and James was shouting and Sirius was hitting him with a pillow and Peter was giggling and everything felt normal and happy once again.

Breakfast was joyous. Sirius was in such high spirits that Remus wondered if oxygen was thin up there. James couldn't stop laughing. Peter was chattering away about his holidays, and Remus was grinning like a maniac.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall stood up from the staff table and made her way to their table. "What's she doing here, I wonder?" said James, still laughing.

"I've no idea," said Sirius.

It was a little-known fact that Remus, after having spent so much time with his friends, had a sort of sixth sense (which was sometimes overwhelming on top of his already-enhanced five senses). After spending so much time with the other Marauders, he knew—for a fact—in an instant—that they were up to something. There was something that they weren't telling Remus, and McGonagall was here because of it. Remus didn't know how he knew, but he did, and it was as certain as the moon itself.

McGonagall's lips were one thin line as she stood over them, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. Remus dropped his fork and cringed, inexorably terrified. Well, there went the Competition. "Black, Potter, and Pettigrew, I want you in my office this instant," she said.

"We didn't do anything wrong," said James with a winning smile.

"We've never broken a rule in our lives. We're perfect angels," said Sirius.

"Paragons of virtue," said Peter, and Remus wondered where he'd learned that one.

The Marauders looked at Remus to add on, but Remus shrugged. "I don't know what you lot did, but I wasn't involved and I don't need to defend myself."

"I know you weren't involved, Mr. Lupin," said McGonagall. "My office, you three. Now. You have five minutes to get there; if five minutes expire and you are still lollygagging, then your punishment will be doubled. Every minute after that only adds on to your sentence."

She stalked away, and James and Sirius shrugged. "I suppose we should follow her," said Peter.

"Hm," said James with a wicked gleam in his eye. "What do you wanna bet we can get to her office before she does?"

Sirius smiled widely, and before Remus knew it, the three boys were sprinting across the Great Hall, laughing and knocking over goblets.

Remus couldn't help but feel a bit left-out. But all the same, he could not keep the smile off his face. He'd missed them.

DAD was first, and Remus' friends were still absent. He took his seat next to Evans—Questus was Disillusioned again, but Remus pretended not to notice.

"So how much trouble are your friends in?" asked Evans, spitting out the words like they were a particularly nasty potion.

"Why are they in trouble?" questioned Remus, taking out his parchment. "McGonagall looked really angry—she was kind of scary—but she didn't say anything about why."

"They didn't mention it?" said Evans. "Some friends they are. They did something super dangerous, and roped other first-years into it, too. The other first-years were called to McGonagall's office before you and your friends got down to breakfast. You'll never believe it—they actually—"

Suddenly, Questus appeared in front of Remus. "Are your friends still talking to McGonagall?" he asked, entirely too close for comfort.

"I don't know, Professor," said Remus. "Perhaps they're here and just Disillusioned."

"Five points from Gryffindor," said Questus, and Remus felt rather ashamed.

Questus walked back to the front of the class to start the lesson, and Evans giggled. "That was pretty good, Lupin," she said.

"Thanks," said Remus, "but it was also disrespectful, I think. I need to start watching what I say."

"He's just strict," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Flitwick would've found it hilarious, himself."

"I think Questus thought it was funny, too," said Remus quietly, who hadn't missed the quirk of Questus' mouth. "He just won't admit it since he's a stickler for respect."

If Questus heard Remus, he didn't say anything. "Today we're going to be talking about the war and how it affects Muggles," he said—but, before he could say anything else, Remus heard footsteps and talking coming down the corridor. The door burst open, revealing James, Sirius, and Peter: all three were laughing, and James' hair was even more mussed than usual.

Questus frowned. "I'd give you three detention, but I suspect that McGonagall has given you plenty... so ten points from Gryffindor."

James laughed and pulled Sirius and Peter to their chairs. "Righty-o, John. What's the lesson today?"

Questus kept going as if he had not even heard James' comment. "Many wizards, due to the pride that they feel concerning their heritages, are completely ignorant about Muggles—and therefore, Voldemort. We've had this lesson already, but I feel that it's more important after the attack yesterday."

Attack?

"I'm assuming you've all heard about it?" Questus' eyes drifted to Remus for a split second, and Remus wondered if it had anything to do with him. Was it his parents? One of his family members? He thought that he probably wouldn't mind if it was Uncle Bryson... but then suddenly felt awful for having such thoughts. He hadn't received the Prophet yesterday, since he had left for Hogsmeade so early, so he really had no idea.

"Some of Voldemort's followers—" continued Questus, and a boy behind Remus suddenly gasped and covered his ears— "Oh, don't be so sensitive, Yarbury. Some of Voldemort's followers attacked a Muggle village yesterday. Two were killed. One was injured. One was kidnapped, presumed dead."

There was silence.

"Can anyone tell me why this attack happened? I think it's important that we all know exactly what this war is about. Being eleven is no excuse for failing to follow current events."

"They were Muggles," said a boy. Remus turned around to look at the boy who spoke, and he caught an eyeful at Sirius as he did so. Sirius' knuckles were white, and he was writing something down.

"Indeed," said Questus. "They were Muggles, and Voldemort believes that—Potter, can you answer that? Why is Voldemort killing Muggles?"

"He's evil," said James simply. "He likes killing people."

"And why are Muggles a threat to him? If they can't use magic, why are they getting in his way? Shouldn't he want to rule the world? Why, then, is he so insistent on destroying it? After all, if the Muggles are dead, then he'll have less to control."

"He..." James sounded a little more uncertain now. "He thinks wizards are better and Muggles don't deserve to live."

"That's true, but it doesn't explain any of his motives. Why? Think more. Motives are important—they can help predict actions. Lupin? Do you know why?"

Remus jumped a little. He hadn't raised his hand, and he did not like being put on the spot. "Erm, I don't, Professor."

"Try to give me an answer anyway. It's okay if it's wrong. Potter was already wrong, and he thinks he's a genius."

"Er..." Remus took a deep breath, ignoring James' noises of resentment. "There's strength in numbers, isn't there? And Muggles outnumber wizards by a large margin. So even though they can't do magic, he thinks that, if wizards are no longer kept a secret—and that's his ultimate goal, isn't it?—then Muggles will be the majority and think of wizards as... less-than."

Questus nodded encouragingly. "Keep going," he said.

"If there are more wizards than Muggles," he continued, "then there won't be... well, prejudice or anything—and then the wizards won't have to worry about the Muggles at all, because natural selection will do the rest..."

To tell the truth, Remus had no idea why Voldemort was killing Muggles, but he did know Fenrir Greyback's motives. So he explained those, instead. Questus, unfortunately, saw right through it.

"That was very good, Lupin," said Questus, "even though you were completely wrong, and I think you know it. One point to Gryffindor. You perfectly described why magical creatures and part-humans join Voldemort. Prejudice is an important factor that not many people consider. 'A better life' is a common goal that we all share, isn't it? The only differences between us are how much we want before we're satisfied, along with what we'll do to achieve our goals—including stepping on other people. Anyway. Prejudice is precisely the reason that Voldemort has so many non- and part-humans on his side. And you have perfectly explained why Greyback wants victims, apart from his sadistic nature: he wants a werewolf majority.

"However, it does not describe Voldemort's motives. Voldemort is not worried about prejudice at all—he believes that certain minorities, not majorities, hold more power. Remember, although there are only twenty-eight sacred Pureblood families in Britain, they are extremely powerful. Think about Voldemort's main goal. It isn't to correct something; it's to gain something. Ainsworth?"

"He wants to rule the world, and he wants the Pureblood families on his side—he thinks society will be better if it's wizard-only."

"I do think that he's partially adopting the beliefs to get more Pureblood families on his side," said Questus. "That part is probably correct. But your last statement is not. If Voldemort wants a wizard-only society, then why doesn't he kill all the Muggles? For a wizard of his caliber, that wouldn't be difficult."

There were a few students cowering in the back of the class. Remus felt that it was a bit inappropriate of Questus to be talking of such violent things in front of first-years, but he didn't say anything.

"No one?" said Questus. "Here's what I think. I think that Voldemort believes that wizard blood is precious, but he still wants to spread fear. Fear is important, in this case—people will be more likely to follow him if they fear him. But he doesn't want to dispose of wizards that could possibly be a follower of his somewhere down the road. So he resorts to terrorism towards Muggles, because he believes that they are disposable. They are not the target; rather, they are the tool that he is using to reach the target.

"And wizards, in response, grow fearful of what Voldemort is doing to their fellow humans—" Questus paused. "To their fellow people," he amended, and Remus nearly fell out of his chair with joy at the thoughtful inclusion of non-human people. "When they know and are fearful of what he is capable of, then it is easier to persuade them. He's also doing this to gain publicity—to become a greater threat in the eyes of the world. It's not about the Muggles. It's about the wizards. Even though Muggles are being pulled into this war, it is a wizarding war, and I believe that it is our duty to protect those less fortunate than we are. Any questions?"

AN: I have a question. How on earth am I at a whole ONE HUNDRED reviews on this story? That's awesome. Holy cow, you guys. Thank you!