After class, Questus kept Remus back. James and Sirius and Peter waited for him by the door, but Remus waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "You lot can go on without me; this might take a while and you've missed enough class for one day."

"What's it about?" asked James, clearly reluctantly to leave. Remus wasn't sure whether that was because he wanted to walk to class with Remus or just because he wanted to miss more class. Probably the latter.

"My mum," said Remus. "Experimental potions and all that. There's a new one somewhere in Madagascar that Professor Questus thinks might help."

"Ooh, I hope so," said Peter. "We have Transfiguration next, James. I think that McGonagall would evaporate us if we're late on top of all the trouble we got into."

"Bye," said Remus. He waited until his friends were well down the corridor, and then he turned to Professor Questus, who was looking at him approvingly.

"You're very lucky that you're a talented liar," said Questus.

"Er, thanks," said Remus. "What did you want to talk to me about? Will it take long? I don't want to miss Transfiguration, either."

"Not long at all," said Questus. "But you'll have to give me a moment. I need to write something down before I forget." And with that, Questus took a piece of parchment out and started writing furiously.

While he did so, Remus wondered what on earth Questus had wanted to speak with him about... and then he remembered his Greyback-adjacent response to Questus' question in class. It was entirely likely that Questus wanted to talk about that—after all, the man had no tact and could not let sensitive subjects remain untouched. Perhaps he'd even guessed that Greyback had been the one to bite Remus, which only a precious few people knew... Remus had talked about a lot of uncomfortable things with Professor Questus, but he knew that he could not speak about that. No matter what. Not even if his life depended on it. He hadn't even told Madam Pomfrey. Please don't ask me about Greyback, please don't ask me about Greyback, please don't ask me about Greyback... Remus silently begged.

"Finished," said Questus, putting the quill down. Remus panicked slightly. He wasn't ready to talk about this. "And now I have a simple question for you..."

"Yes?" asked Remus, dreading it immensely. Questus' questions were hardly ever simple.

"I wanted to know if you'd considered my offer from earlier."

That didn't sound like it was about Greyback. "What offer?"

"Duelling lessons."

"Oh!" Remus had completely forgotten about that. "Yes, of course! I'd love to! I mean, absolutely! Yes!"

"Good. My office tomorrow. Four pm. You're dismissed."

"Thank you, sir." Remus exhaled a little, very happy that he did not have to talk about the subject matter that he had been fearing. "Er... what were you writing down? I'm curious."

Questus grinned. "You made some good points in class today. Very mature, especially for an eleven-year-old. I thought I might as well write them down before I forgot. I was wondering about that, actually—I'm not sure how, exactly, you knew all that besides common sense and personal experience... did you get the ideas from someone else? Your father, perhaps?"

Remus panicked and felt himself turn bright red. "I should really get to Transfiguration," he said. "I'm already behind in that class. But the answer is no. It's just personal experience. I've thought about it a lot. The topic governs my future."

"That makes sense," said Questus thoughtfully. Fortunately, he didn't seem to have put two and two together. "Well done in class today."

"Thank you," said Remus quickly. And, before Questus could deduce anything in particular, Remus had already dashed down the corridor to Transfiguration.

McGonagall was giving him odd looks all throughout class, and Remus wasn't quite sure what to make of it. The class was positively abuzz about the attack. Apparently, it had occurred in a village not far away from the castle. "Do you think they'll come here next?" asked Peter, who had been anxious all day.

"I hope so," said Sirius listlessly. "That would be brilliant. We could hex them within an inch of their lives." He sighed. "Oh, I'm so glad to be back. Home was boring. I never thought I'd be so happy to be listening to Minerva here ramble on about mice and matchsticks. She's not nearly as boring as Mum, believe it or not."

Unfortunately for Sirius, McGonagall happened to be standing right behind him. "Five points from Gryffindor," she said sharply, "for talking and for disrespect. You really can't afford to lose any more points, Mr. Black. None of you can. I believe that the Gryffindor hourglass is down to about thirty points."

Thirty points! Remus couldn't even imagine how many McGonagall had taken away from whatever Remus' friends had done. He was pretty sure that they'd been almost at two hundred before holidays began. What on earth had they done?

"It was a compliment," grumbled Sirius. "I said that you weren't as boring as Mum." But McGonagall paid him no mind.

"Now, I know that many of you are nervous following the attack yesterday morning," she stated, her eyes landing on Remus. Remus squirmed. "But that should not affect your schoolwork. None of the people attacked were relatives of Hogwarts students." A few students exhaled in relief. "And Hogwarts is quite possibly the safest place in the world. Now, take out your textbooks and turn to page fifty-one..."

Remus didn't figure out why the teachers were looking at him so much until that afternoon.

Before supper, he decided to go down to Hagrid's and ask him if he knew anything about the attack... or at least what his friends had done to lose so many points from Gryffindor. Uncharacteristically, they would not talk about it. Every time Remus asked, they either erupted into giggles or said "you'll see" in a very ominous tone of voice.

"Can we come?" Peter asked when Remus told them where he was going, but Remus would not let them come along. He wanted to be free to mention his lycanthropy, just in case the reason that the teachers were staring at him had something to do with that (it usually did).

While Remus was walking down the corridor, he passed Filch. Remus held up a hand in an imitation of a half-hearted wave, but Filch only scowled. That wasn't odd at all, but Remus still felt funny about it—after all, it was just another person to add to the Staring-at-Remus List.

He knocked on Hagrid's door, and Fang immediately began to bark. Hagrid shouted at Fang from inside the hut; Remus waited patiently while Hagrid made his way to the door and opened it. "Remus! So good ter see yeh!" Hagrid cried happily.

"Do you have time to talk, Hagrid?"

"O' course! Always do! Come in!"

Remus stepped over the threshold and took a seat. "I was hoping you could answer a question for me," he said. "Actually, I have a few. No one's telling me what's going on, and I'm feeling very confused and apprehensive about certain things..."

"Go on! Here, let me get yeh some tea..."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Remus said quickly. He really didn't want any of Hagrid's tea. "I only wanted to know about the attack. I didn't get the Daily Prophet—I was away yesterday—and..."

Hagrid nearly dropped the cup of tea. "How much do yeh know about it?"

"Well, the Daily Prophet is a popular news source for wizards; so popular, in fact, that it has become monopolistic over the last few decades. Since the Ministry largely controls it, people are often better off getting information from smaller magazines, depending on the subject, but I think that—"

"Not abou' the Prophet, Remus. Abou' the attack."

"Oh," said Remus, slightly embarrassed now. "I think... I think two were killed, one was injured, one was kidnapped?"

"Is that all yeh know?"

"It was a Muggle village, close to Hogwarts. But yes, that's all I know. I only ask because I've been getting odd looks from the teachers, and it feels... like it has something to do with... me." Remus hoped that he wasn't being self-centered in assuming this, but Hagrid's reaction confirmed his suspicions.

"I don' think that I should be the one ter tell yeh this," said Hagrid slowly.

"Oh. Is it one of my family members or something?" That was odd. Remus knew that he had Muggle family members (that he'd never met), but he also knew that they lived in Wales. Remus, having moved all around the continent, knew a lot about geography—well, at least enough to know that Wales was certainly not a Scottish town. And he didn't have any official family on his father's side. No one but Uncle Bryson, that was, but Uncle Bryson lived in London.

"No, it's..."

"Wait. Dumbledore's at the door," said Remus, pointing. Hagrid looked grateful for the distraction, and he immediately stood to let Dumbledore in.

The first thing that Remus noticed when Dumbledore stepped into the hut was his clothing, which was even more flamboyant than usual: he was wearing pink robes, and there was a blue ribbon in his hair. The second thing that Remus noticed was the fact that Dumbledore was not avoiding Remus' eyes—a fact for which Remus was very thankful. The third thing Remus noticed was the serene look on Dumbledore's face, as if nothing had happened at all. "Oh, Remus," said Dumbledore. "Have you come to sample Hagrid's delicious rock cakes as well?"

"No, sir," said Remus, who very much did not like Hagrid's rock cakes.

"Then I assume you're here about the attack?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why?"

"Because everyone's acting weird around me and I don't know what's going on," said Remus matter-of-factly. It had to have been obvious. Dumbledore had to know why.

And sure enough, Dumbledore nodded wisely instead of denying the whole thing. "Ah. I thought that might be the case. Well, you have nothing to worry about, seeing as the attack did not concern you at all."

"Then why is everybody...?"

"I was getting to that. The attack did not concern you, but it did concern a certain Fenrir Greyback. My guess is that the teachers somehow think that all werewolves are connected by some magical means, which is completely—forgive my bluntness—stupid."

"Oh." That made a lot of sense, actually. Of course, Remus felt a little sick at the mention of the most feared werewolf in Britain, but it wasn't the first time that he'd heard of Greyback's bloody exploits. Greyback had been attacking people for years; it was in the news constantly. The fact that he was joining forces with Death Eaters had been established long ago. Remus felt almost glad when he heard of Greyback's attacks—the more people Greyback attacked, the less likely he was to remember Remus—and then immediately wanted to die with guilt for having such awful thoughts.

"I suppose it makes sense that they'd be wary around me, then," said Remus pensively. "Since I'm one, too. I don't blame them."

"No, Remus, it doesn't make sense," said Dumbledore, shaking his head. "Voldemort and Professor Sprout are both humans, but that doesn't mean a thing." Now Professor Dumbledore took a bite of a rock cake and chewed thoughtfully. "It needs a little less molasses, Hagrid."

Hagrid nodded. "Minerva told me tha', too."

"Well, I got what I came here for. Forgive me for stopping by so suddenly, Hagrid, but I was suddenly and mysteriously craving a rock cake. Remus, I shall see you...?"

"Hm?"

"I believe I asked you to stop by my office yesterday. There is something important that I have to discuss with you."

"Wasn't... wasn't that it?"

"No. It is, as they say in Mermish, eAhkEoAAEe." Remus looked at him, confused, and Dumbledore smiled. "That loosely translates to a different conversation entirely. Anyway, you are free to visit my office whenever you so desire, of course. I understand that teachers have already started assigning homework."

"No, I'm not busy... I just forgot."

"It is very lucky I was here to remind you, then," said Dumbledore airily, finishing his rock cake. "How about this evening after supper?"

"Yes, sir."

With that, Dumbledore left the small hut (leaving behind many questions in his wake), and Hagrid smiled at Remus. "Well, tha's that mystery solved, hm?"

"Yes," said Remus, but he knew that it wasn't the only mystery to be solved by far. "I had another question, actually. What on earth did my friends do to land them in so much trouble?'

"I have no idea," said Hagrid, laughing. "Bin tryin' to figure tha' one out meself."

Remus sighed. "I suppose they'll tell me later. You aren't... you don't... the attack doesn't bother you? You were a bit reluctant to talk about it earlier..."

"It doesn' bother me," said Hagrid firmly. "I was reluctant ter talk abou' it because I thought that it would bother you."

"Oh. That's considerate of you." Remus took a sip of tea and tried not to choke. There were tea leaves floating in it.

"There were giant attacks all over the newspapers one year when I was in school, there were. All the other kids were lookin' at me funny. Bothered me more than it did them, though—can' really explain why, exactly. Just knowin' what my kind were capable of. Bit of a reminder tha' I wasn't like everybody else."

Remus nodded eagerly. "Yes, that's exactly what it is."

The conversation shifted from talk of attacks and non-humans to Flobberworms and Hagrid's father and Remus' friends.

And Remus was very careful to avoid the rock cake.

He retreated to the library to do some homework right after his outing at Hagrid's, which meant that he didn't see his friends again until supper. And, when he took his seat at their table, Peter nearly trampled him to death.

"Woah, Peter. What's wrong?" asked Remus, alarmed, as Peter hugged him tightly around the neck.

Peter looked a little embarrassed.

"Somebody—not saying who—may have told him that you were eaten by a Hippogriff," said James casually as he reached for the pumpkin juice. "He actually believed me—I mean the person, not saying who—and then completely lost it."

"Well," said Remus. "You can tell that person, whoever he may be, that he is an absolute prat for tricking Peter. And also that Hippogriffs don't eat people."

"Are you sure?" said Sirius. "I thought they did."

"Nope. They'll kill people, but they see them as equals and won't eat them. They only eat smaller creatures."

"Oh," grumbled Sirius. "Well, Hippogriffs are a whole lot less interesting now."

"How was your visit with Hagrid?" asked Peter.

"Lovely, except the tea was disgusting. Don't tell him I said that. I'm glad I wasn't eaten by a Hippogriff, though. That would have put a damper on the trip," Remus said, and Peter giggled. "So... I've asked you before, but I very much would like to know. What on earth did you three do to lose so many points?"

"We're also in detention until Easter holidays," said Sirius.

"What?! That's three months!"

"Yep. McGonagall was fuming. Saying she expected more from us. I don't know why she did, to be honest."

"So what did you do?"

"Well..." James started, but he was laughing so much that he had to pause to regain his breath. "We..."

"What he means to say, is we..." tried Sirius, but he couldn't get anything else out, either.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Peter, help."

"We didn't take the train to school!" squealed Peter, who was also laughing.

"...What?"

"We didn't take the train! We flew!"

"You... flew?"

"Yeah, us and a dozen other first-years," explained James, still laughing hysterically. "Mostly Gryffindor, but there was a Ravenclaw boy and a Hufflepuff. A Slytherin wanted to come, but we wouldn't let him. We rounded up everyone that we could find who had a broomstick with them, and then we entered the train station and then ducked behind a wall. When no one was watching, we all lifted off and then flew after the train all the way to Scotland!"

"How did you... how did you carry your things?"

James grinned. "Kendric took 'em on the train. He said he didn't want to come, but he was still all for it."

"Peter went, too? Isn't Peter afraid of flying?"

"I rode on James' broomstick with him!" said Peter proudly. "I wasn't scared at all. James is a brilliant flyer."

"You were holding my waist more tightly than a corset," said James, and Remus didn't ask how he knew what a corset was.

"We went so high there were clouds! I got all wet!" said Peter. "And James did a dive and I was scared out of my wits!"

"I shouldn't have let him ride with me. I couldn't have any fun," James complained. "Well, that's not true. I had loads of fun. It was brilliant."

"You're supposed to take the train, though," reasoned Remus. "It helps the teachers take attendance, and it's a staple Hogwarts tradition. What if you had fallen? No one would have been around to help for miles; you could have died."

Sirius groaned. "You sound like McGonagall. We weren't going to fall—we're not stupid, you know. James knows all about fleet flying. We all had buddies. If someone had fallen, we'd have noticed."

"But if you were all first-years... There aren't that many great flyers in our year, James. I'm surprised you got all the way here. If one of you had fallen on the tracks, or gotten run over by the train, or fallen from high up... You could have died on impact!"

"You still sound like McGonagall, mate. That's why she was so angry, too." Sirius sat up even straighter (which Remus didn't think possible with Sirius' already-immaculate posture) and adopted a stunning impression of McGonagall. "It would have been one thing had you been experienced flyers, but you are not! You could have died!" Sirius ended the impression. "That's half the fun, Minerva," he added, rolling his eyes.

"Yep, old Minerva was angry, all right," said James cheerfully. "But it was worth it! And everyone's talking about us now! News travels fast."

"Indeed," said Remus. "Please tell me no one fell."

"No one fell!" said Peter. "It was fun!"

"C'mon, Remus," James coerced. "Admit it. It was a brilliant idea."

"Yeah, enjoying our crazy schemes is just part of being our friend," said Sirius, and Peter beamed at the word "our".

Remus considered that. If he had to enjoy their antics to be their friend... well, it was a price he was willing to pay. And... well... even though it was dangerous, it was pretty hilarious. Remus imagined a dozen first-years flying next to the train, over treetops, past villages, cheerfully ignoring Hogwarts rules that had been in place for decades...

He snorted. "Well, it's certainly creative."

The other Marauders laughed in victory, and Remus felt quite warm and fuzzy inside. If ignoring a couple morals was the price that Remus had to pay to be their friend, then he was entirely happy to pay it.

Since Remus' friends were in detention that evening, it was very easy for him to slip away to Dumbledore's office, completely undetected. Upon arriving at the gargoyles, he realized that he did not know the password. "Er... Blood Pop," he said. Nothing happened. "Hello? Professor Dumbledore?" No one answered. "Professor Dumbledore!" he said a little louder, and he heard the clink of a quill being put down as Professor Dumbledore stood up to let Remus in.

"Ah, Remus. Do come in," said Professor Dumbledore. "I apologize for the lack of a password. I was just getting around to changing it for you, but I admit I've been very busy recently."

Remus followed Dumbledore into his office, and Dumbledore gestured for him to take a seat, which Remus did anxiously. "Sir, why...?"

"Madam Pomfrey mentioned that you've been having rather awful nightmares."

Oh. That's what all this was about. Remus felt slightly betrayed—his nightmares were embarrassing, private, and extremely ugly. He hoped that it wasn't a topic of staff discussion. What if everyone knew? The thought made Remus sick. "She did mention that you..." Remus started.

"...Have an idea to help them, yes."

"Did she tell you what they...?"

"...Are about? Yes."

"And you can fix it?" Remus was a little skeptical; after all, Madam Pomfrey said that there was no real, permanent cure. But if Dumbledore knew of one... well, he was Dumbledore. He knew everything.

"I can't fix it completely," said Dumbledore, stroking his beard. "But I think I can help."

"How?"

"I assume you remember how to use a Pensieve?"

At this, Remus leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He would do a lot to get rid of the nightmares, yes, but not that. Never that. "I am not showing you a memory of my nightmares, sir," he said sternly.

"I know," said Dumbledore. "But Pensieves are used for other things. How did you learn to use a Pensieve, may I ask?"

Remus paused. "It was... after my... after the first few full moons. I was overwhelmed. Dad taught me how to use one to get rid of it all in my head, but I stopped after... oh. You think it will?"

Dumbledore nodded, pleased. "I think it will help. A Pensieve, in addition to letting one review memories, takes said memory off the top of the head, so to speak. It does not get rid of the memory, but instead stops it from weighing on the individual. It seems to me that you've experienced more in the past few months than you have in the past six years combined, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Changes of scenery and stress can increase the frequency of nightmares. All you need to do, then, is clear your head before you sleep every night so that the memories don't build up. I found it helped when I was young and having trouble sleeping soundly."

Dumbledore's plan sounded good—in theory—but there was a massive, glaring hole. "How am I going to hide it from my friends, sir?"

"Don't," said Dumbledore simply. "I'd say that you can make up an excuse. Professor Questus told me just this morning that you are quite the talented liar."

"It's not a very noble thing to be talented at," Remus mumbled.

Dumbledore stared at Remus from above the half-moon spectacles that he always wore—Remus had the odd feeling that Dumbledore was staring into the very depths of his soul. "Yes, it is. It means that you have a thorough understanding of the way that other people think. That's empathy, Remus, and that is a very noble talent indeed."

"Thanks," Remus said awkwardly. He'd never thought of it that way, and it actually made him feel a lot better.

"Now, you don't have to use the Pensieve if you don't want to," said Dumbledore. "But I think it will help. Do you own one?"

"No," said Remus. They'd sold it when he was a little more than six years old.

"It just so happens that I have an extra," said Dumbledore, smiling. "A very small one, mind you, but it should do the trick. What do you say, Remus?"

Remus found the act of using a Pensieve to be highly unpleasant. In order to remove one's thoughts from one's head, one actually had to think about them. Imagine them. Remus didn't want to do that. But if it would help... Remus would do just about anything to get rid of the nightmares.

"I'll try it, sir," said Remus reluctantly. "If you think it will help."

"It did for me. And, forgive me for saying so, but I often find that we are remarkably similar in some ways."

Remus wasn't sure about that, and it felt a little odd that he, a werewolf, was being compared to one of the most powerful wizards in existence. He supposed, however, that it was probably something that Dumbledore said to a lot of students. "Thank you, Professor," he said as Dumbledore handed him the small Pensieve. It was the smallest one that Remus had ever seen; more than small enough to fit in his pocket. His pockets were, however, larger than normal on his oversized robes.

As Remus was turning to leave, Dumbledore called him back.

"Yes?" said Remus uncertainly.

"Would you like a candy cane? There are plenty left over now that Christmas has ended."

"No, thank you, sir," said Remus, more and more befuddled by the minute.

But thankful nonetheless. He did so hope that this would work.

AN: My current favorite word is "palaver", and I'm still waiting on the opportunity to work it into this story.