AN: Here's the thing. I understand that religion, particularly Christianity, is a tough subject for a lot of people. I DEFINITELY understand that it's not something that one typically comes across on a fanfiction site. That would be ridiculous, right?!

Right...

Anyway, I did touch on religion in this chapter (barely, but I will do so more in the future), but I am not proselytizing. I'm not including this because I want to convert you. The discussions and characters' beliefs don't even fully align with my own. I'm including it because it is an important part of my characterization, the character development, and the world-building.

I mean for this to be a respectful environment, a thoughtful chapter, and a little fun speculation. If it's not your cup of tea, that's okay. But I will say that, in trying to make this story as realistic as possible, I'm not gonna leave anything out. Religion exists, like it or not, so here I am exploring the concept :) Hope you like it!

Remus showed up for duelling lessons the next day in high spirits. "Evening, Professor," he said.

"Evening." Questus was sitting in the corner and looking at some student essays. Remus could see a name written on the corner of one of the papers: Narcissa Malfoy. That was Sirius' cousin, he was pretty sure. Next to her name, he saw a P. Well, that was unfortunate. Questus looked up at Remus and raised an eyebrow. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"Absolutely."

"Really? You're ready to duel without a wand in your hand? Do you have a hidden talents that I don't know about or something?"

"Oh!" said Remus, stuffing his hand in his pocket to retrieve his wand so quickly that he missed his pocket on the first try and accidentally grasped at thin air. He tried again, more slowly this time, and grinned. "Now I'm ready," he said.

"Is that a werewolf thing?" asked Professor Questus abruptly, and Remus blinked.

"Is... is what a werewolf thing?"

"Mood swings. You were really out-of-sorts yesterday. But you seem cheerful today."

"Er... no. I think it's a teenage girl thing, actually."

Questus snorted. "Tell me about it. I teach gobs of them. But really, something was wrong yesterday. Everyone noticed."

"What do you mean, everyone noticed?" asked Remus, a little alarmed. "I thought I was acting normally!"

"Heavens, no. You definitely weren't. Perked up a bit in my class, but you were generally sulky all day."

"How would you know that, sir? You only saw me when I was in your class." Remus thought back to breakfast the day earlier. Questus hadn't even been there; in fact, he only ever showed up to about half the official mealtimes. Remus got the feeling that Questus hated most people.

"Saw you in the corridors. And surely you can't be naïve enough to assume that the teachers don't talk about you at mealtime and during staff meetings. You're the first werewolf in the history of Hogwarts—no one knows what to think. McGonagall mentioned something about your not sleeping last night, Pomfrey cryptically said that she thought you'd be like this, and even Flitwick said something about your behavior in class—he said you were quieter than you normally are, and that's really saying something, I'm assuming. It's odd that he brought it up at all, because he doesn't like to talk about you. Usually tries to steer the conversation away."

"Oh," said Remus. "Everyone noticed?"

"Everyone. You were basically sulking all day, besides your brief laughing fit when Black essentially asked me to adopt him."

Remus tried to hide his smile. The image still made him want to laugh. "No, I was laughing because you called his father a failed breeding experiment," he said, and then suddenly grew sober. "How often do they talk about me? The teachers, I mean, not the failed breeding experiments."

"Often. But again, Flitwick doesn't like it. I'd say your name comes up at least once in approximately eighty-five percent of the staff meetings. Good things, of course. McGonagall says you're improving, Flitwick says your knowledge of charms is 'very impressive', and even Sidus mentioned that you've scored O's on all his written tests."

"Sidus? I thought he didn't like me."

"Oh, he doesn't. But he still appreciates your intellect. But I digress: we're getting very off-topic, which was your intention, wasn't it? So... what was wrong yesterday?"

"You're my teacher, not my doctor, sir," said Remus. Then he felt guilty for the snarky comment and tried again. "Sorry. It's just that... if Madam Pomfrey knows, then there's no reason for you to...?"

Questus chuckled. "Yeah, you're right. Only concerned; didn't mean to overstep my boundaries. Ready to start?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Expelliarmus." Remus tried to hold onto his wand or move out of the way or cast a spell or something, but he only managed a sort of odd blinking motion because he couldn't decide which one to do.

Questus snorted. "You can't do all of them," he said. "I'd go with the shield. In some cases, it'll even deflect unfriendly spells and send them back towards the caster—but only spells with a high reflection rate. Try again. Expelliarmus."

This time, Remus actually managed to block the Disarming Charm—for the first time ever! "I did it!" he cried, absolutely thrilled. "I actually... Protego!" He blocked another unidentified charm by the skin of his teeth. "That's twice in a... Protego!" That time, he wasn't quick enough, and the spell hit him full force in the thumb. "Ow. Was that a Stinging Jinx?"

"A mild one, yes. I assume it didn't hurt too much? I'm technically not allowed to do that to students, but I assume it's nothing for you."

"It's fine," said Remus. "Er... Ventus!"

Professor Questus blocked Remus' hex effortlessly, but the wind was strong enough to ruffle his hair a bit. He gave Remus an encouraging nod. "Creative. You know, if you had cast it towards the ceiling or wall, you could have caused a distraction—and I wouldn't have been able to block that distraction except with my own willpower. Then you'd've been free to cast another spell while I was distracted. Here: let me demonstrate." Questus cast a spell nonverbally, and there was a clattering sound behind Remus.

Remus did not turn around to see the source of the clattering, of course, because he wasn't stupid. "Why would I turn around if I already know that you're trying to distract me?" he asked quizzically.

Questus shrugged. "How do you know I didn't cast something that could potentially attack you?"

"Because you said distract..."

"Yeah. Distraction by incapacitation. Or I could be lying. People do that, you know."

Remus stayed still for a while, staring Questus down while he decided what to do. He knew that he'd be attacked the second he turned around, but he also knew that Questus was plenty creative enough to do something unexpected. Remus couldn't sense anything behind him, so he knew that it wasn't something alive...

Suddenly, he had an idea. He moved to the side so that he was facing a small mirror on Questus' wall, and he glanced into it out of the corner of his eye. Questus smiled. "Now that's clever," he said. "Very good use of your surroundings."

Remus peered more closely into the mirror, trying to get a good handle on what the shadowy, faraway figure could possibly be... it was big, white, and glowing... oh, fiddlesticks, it was the full moon.

Remus whirled around, not even caring that he was failing the challenge. How had that happened? He felt fine! It wasn't a full moon—the full moon was still ages away! His chest felt tight and his fingers were trembly, but not like they were right before a full moon; it was more out of fear...

Oh, fear. It was a Boggart. Duh.

"Riddikulus!" he said, and the moon turned into a handheld mirror. Before Remus even had time to process what had happened, Questus Disarmed him.

"That wasn't fair!" said Remus, picking his wand up off of the floor for what seemed like the hundredth time since he'd started duelling lessons.

"Not fair? How so?"

"I didn't know you had a Boggart in here!"

Questus sighed. "Lupin, either everything is fair in a duel, or nothing is. Take your pick. I used the Boggart, and you used the mirror—I'm only trying to teach you that it's all fair game."

"But the Boggart was hidden, so I didn't know..."

"Well, I'm not about to give you the full tour of all the objects I might use before a duel."

"But I'm a beginner."

"Oh, so you think a Dark wizard is going to ask you how many years you've been duelling? You think he'll let you win if you're a beginner? No, people will take full advantage of that, believe me. Besides, the best way to learn duelling—in my opinion—is to throw you headfirst into the proper circumstances. Like a bird learning to fly, or a child learning to swim—wait, no, not that last one. Wrong analogy."

Remus laughed and picked up his wand. "Well, Boggarts aren't fair. I nearly panicked."

"Hm," said Professor Questus, evidently deep in thought. He didn't seem to care that Remus had nearly panicked one bit. "But you still cast the charm admirably. Why is that?"

"My dad's an expert. I'm good at that charm."

"I wonder..." Questus' face turned even more thoughtful. Then he pointed his wand at the Boggart, and it turned back to its original shape of a full moon. "One more time," he said, taking a step back to observe.

Remus pointed his wand at the Boggart. "Riddikulus," he said, and the handheld mirror returned.

Questus reverted it back to a full moon. "Now... do it nonverbally."

Remus took a deep breath and gritted his teeth in determination. He waved his wand. The Boggart was still a full moon, but now... now it had a sheen to it that it hadn't had before. "Did you see that?" Remus cried, overjoyed. "It almost worked!"

Questus looked largely unimpressed. "Keep trying."

Remus tried again. The Boggart shrunk a little. Again. The Boggart became a little more oval-shaped. Again. Now it was a floating mirror. One more try, and then the fully-formed mirror clattered to the floor. Remus tried not to faint of joy. He'd cast a nonverbal spell. He'd cast a nonverbal spell as a first-year. He had never felt more like a wizard.

Questus picked up the mirror and inspected it. "It still slightly resembles a moon," he said. "You see the coloring and shading? A little bit too lunar for my tastes. But... I'd say it was almost successful. Try again."

The rest of the evening was spent trying to turn the Boggart into a mirror. By the end of the practice, Remus could cast the Boggart-Banishing Charm nonverbally almost completely reliably.

Now Questus looked impressed, which was an accomplishment indeed. "You're making a lot of progress for an eleven-year-old. Very, very impressive," he said, and Remus beamed.

"Thank you!"

"But don't let it get to your head. You still have to learn defensive and offensive charms nonverbally. But now that you've done it once, it should come a little more naturally from here on out."

Remus could stop smiling, no matter how hard he tried. "I did it. I actually did it," he said, entirely unable to believe it. "It's a sixth-year skill, and I did it."

"Yeah, duelling a Boggart is going to be easy now. Duelling a person, however—that'll be the challenge." Questus haphazardly threw the Boggart back into the cupboard, and Remus heard a crash as the plate fell.

Remus couldn't stop staring. He'd been so excited that he hadn't even realized that something very, very odd had just occured. "Er... Professor?" he asked. "Why didn't the Boggart change when you picked it up?"

Questus didn't answer for a while, and Remus was afraid that he'd asked something too personal. He watched anxiously as Questus returned to his desk and took an agonizingly slow sip of tea... and then Remus realized that he had no reason to be anxious whatsoever. After all, Questus asked him uncomfortable personal questions all the time.

"I'm not afraid of anything," Questus finally said, setting down his mug.

"What? But everyone's afraid of something!"

"Not me. Not really."

"How are you not afraid of anything? That shouldn't be possible."

"Well." Questus took another sip of tea. "That's a very long story. How much time do you have?"

Remus sat down, too. "All the time in the world. I want to hear this."

"Good." Questus wordlessly handed Remus his own mug of tea, and Remus carefully tested the temperature this time before taking a sip. "I'm assuming you know a lot about Boggarts," Questus said, and Remus nodded.

"Of course."

"So you know that they're... hm. I'm probably going to get into things far too advanced for a first-year. But I figure you can handle it. Anyway, Boggarts are interesting because they don't have exact properties. They're not Beings, nor are they Beasts. They're magic, yes, but a very specific type of magic—Dark magic, and also psychological magic. Studying creatures like Boggarts (and Dementors, for that matter) which feed off of human emotions and directly... mirror, pardon the pun... our brains—well, that can tell us a lot about the human mind. Do you understand?"

"The human mind?"

"Fine, a person's mind. Boggarts don't have a mind; therefore, their actions are not influenced by their own thoughts and desires. They are purely our own. Got that?"

"I think so."

"A Boggart represents a very specific aspect of being hu— of being a person, I mean. Fear. As do Dementors. When we battle creatures such as these, we are essentially battling the darker parts of our own consciences, not an external creature like a dragon or a fairy. Got it?"

Remus nodded. He'd heard paraphrases and snippets of this speech from his father over the years.

"Boggarts also change often, depending on how the person's dark part of his or her conscience shifts. You have a Boggart at home, yes? How often has its shape changed for you?"

"Well... I don't remember what it was when I was little."

"No?"

"No. But it wasn't a werewolf, since I hadn't seen one before. Up until I was around five. Then... well, I never actually saw it, because I wasn't really around Garrison much the month after I was bitten. But I assume it was a werewolf."

"Understandable."

"Then it was the full moon. But sometimes I'm worrying, or remembering... and then it's a werewolf again."

"Because those things scare you at the moment."

"Yes."

"The dark parts of our minds change and evolve to fit the circumstances, no? A Boggart reflects what we are most scared of at the moment. But Boggarts are not always scary. Do you know why?"

"They're not scary when I know it's a Boggart. My dad's Boggart is a werewolf, but he's not scared of it anymore. He even tries to pet it sometimes."

"Exactly. So why is your father's Boggart still a werewolf if he is not scared of said werewolf?"

"Because his worst fear is still werewolves, just not the Boggart."

"Perfect. So our fears are separate from Boggarts. Boggarts are a reflection of our worst fears, but they can only poorly imitate them—and they tend to lose their power once we stop associating the fear with the Boggart and start thinking of the two separately. Typically, they provide a weak imitation of the objects' magical properties. I'm curious: do you feel any magical effects of the full moon when confronted with a Boggart?"

Remus shook his head. "Dad was wondering about that when I was small. I don't. It's because the Boggart can only imitate its form's magical abilities, but the full moon doesn't have magical abilities—it's me with the magic. The full moon is just the instigator. And since it's me that's magic and not the moon, the Boggart can't imitate it."

"That's interesting," said Questus thoughtfully. "See, that's why Boggarts are so fascinating. Your worst fear isn't the moon—it's all the pain and terror that comes with it, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"And the Boggart can't imitate that, so it goes with the next closest thing. A reminder; a trigger of sorts. Again: a mere reflection." Questus sort of stared into nothing, and his face became pensive. "In a way, no Boggart is accurate. Our worst fears are not snakes, nor clowns, nor spiders or werewolves or even the full moon. Our worst fear—collectively, as humanity (as people, I mean)—is the feeling that these objects inspire. But it takes a specific type of person to realize that his or her worst fear is just that: fear." He looked up very suddenly. "Got it?"

"Well... yes, sir, I think so... but you didn't answer my question."

"I kind of did, but I wasn't very clear. I got off-topic a little bit, I'm afraid. I'll try again. When I said that I wasn't scared of anything, I meant that I'm not scared of anything that a Boggart could possibly replicate. There's no clear symbol for my fear, because I fear no object, per se; I fear emotions. I've lived enough and been through enough to know that simple matter can't harm me emotionally."

That didn't completely make sense to Remus, but he nodded along anyway.

"And it's as you said," Questus continued, "Boggarts can only replicate the magical properties of the thing that they are imitating—they cannot replicate anything of their targets. Granted, like your own, my Boggart always take the shape of something specific when I'm afraid of a particular thing at the moment. But as of right now, there is no one object that I fear any more than another. That's part of being an Auror, you know. Cool calculation rather than mindless fear. If Voldemort were to burst through the window right now, I would act to minimize casualties, not out of fear. Being an Auror, the Boggart cannot take the shape of anything that would scare or otherwise shock me."

"But... then... can't anyone beat a Boggart? If one just acknowledges that one only fears... you know, fear..."

"It's not like that. I was just speculating; I didn't mean to confuse you. Here's the bottom line. I, more so than other people, fear emotions. And the Boggart cannot replicate that, because it can only take the shape and power of external triggers. And I don't have any, because I'm only afraid of myself and my own personal emotions. I'm not 'beating the Boggart', I'm just not as susceptible to it because I don't fear material objects. Doesn't make me better than anyone. I'm better than other people for other reasons. Got it?"

Remus laughed. "I... I think so, sir." Remus' father had said things along those lines (he tended to ramble), but never with that specific wording. And Remus had never met anyone who didn't have a semi-constant Boggart form. "That's very interesting."

"Yep. I won't lie to you, though—there are exceptions in the heat of the moment. I was in a Muggle church one day—the church was closed, so it was dark and empty—which is the perfect breeding ground for a Boggart. One popped out of nowhere in the form of a large patch of Devil's Snare. Was so terrified that I ended up doing underage magic and nearly got myself into some awful trouble with the Ministry of Magic..."

"Wait," said Remus. "Why were you in a Muggle church? Especially when it was closed? As an underage wizard? That's just asking for trouble."

"Yeah, but it was easier to focus when no one was around."

"Focus on what? Your homework?"

Questus gave Remus an odd look and shook his head slowly. "No, on God. I was in a church, Lupin. Why would I be doing homework in a church?"

"Wait," said Remus again, who was having a very difficult time not spitting out his tea. "Hang on a second. You're religious? You?"

"Yeah. Loads of people are. Well, not many wizards, but people in general. Have you been living under a rock or something?" Then Questus chuckled and shrugged. "Well, I guess you were living under a rock, for all intensive purposes. But still."

"You don't look religious."

"And what do you think religious people look like? Father Christmas?"

"No, I mean... aren't they, like... all emotional? And they sing a lot?"

Questus snorted. "I don't sing," he said. "And religion has a lot to do with intellect—more than people think. That's part of why I became religious, you know: I studied the Muggle Bible for a while and figured that it was impossible that mere humans, acting on their own, spanning thousands of years, could write something of such researched interconnectedness. You know I like research, so it's not a stretch."

Remus did. He knew that Questus liked research far too well. Sometimes Remus suspected that the man knew more about werewolves than Remus did himself.

"And the Bible isn't all that unbelievable, seeing as magic exists," continued Questus. "The other reason that I became religious was that someone close to me died and I wanted to believe in an afterlife."

Remus decided not to ask. "Yeah, speaking of magic... aren't a lot of religious miracles just things that wizards can do?"

"Nope. What are the five exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration? The five things that cannot be created or recreated by a wizard, I mean."

"Food, life, money, things destroyed by Dark magic, and... I can't remember the last one."

"I'm not surprised. The last one is 'items shaped like ducks'. No one knows why wizards can't Conjure items shaped like ducks, but we can't. It's one of the great mysteries of life. Anyway, the miracles in the Bible cover all five of those—even the duck one."

"It does?!"

"Well, it's implied. Someone had to create the ducks. If it wasn't wizards, then it was God. Besides, the miracles are only a small part of it: it's something bigger than that."

"I think... I think that some religious books... ban witchcraft...?"

"Yeah, they do. I've heard of people who got acceptance letters to Hogwarts and turned them down because of that. But..." Questus shrugged. "I have my own opinions on the subject. Now, that's enough for today—I've probably overshared. Not trying to convert you or anything; just trying to answer your question."

"It's interesting," said Remus.

"Sure. It's a different way of studying how people think and why, and that's always interesting." Questus looked quite lost in thought again. "Boggarts are the same way. Reflections on life and thought and all that. I knew someone once who was so obsessed with philosophy that she studied it four hours a day. That's when it stops getting interesting. You can only philosophize so much, you know." He put down his cup and stood up. "On that note, I think I'm done. See you next Tuesday. Expelliarmus."

Remus' wand shot out of his hand, and he picked it up with a good-natured groan. "See you next Tuesday, Professor."

The next day was bright and sunny, and Sirius came to find Remus in the afternoon before his detention. "Remus! There you are. Come outside; James is practicing on his broom and he wants to play a game with us."

"Play... a game? What are you up to, Sirius?"

"Up to?" Sirius blinked innocently. "I don't know why you would think that."

"Does this game have anything to do with unpleasant, dangerous hexes and the like?"

"No! Of course not!" Sirius pulled Remus out the door and into the courtyard. "Only fun, amusing, and completely harmless dangerous hexes."

"What?!"

"I'm joking. It's not hexes. James just came up with an idea for an outdoor game, and he wants to play it with us. But we need more than three people. Also, you've been distant lately, and he's unnaturally worried about you." Sirius rolled his eyes. "I keep telling him that you're always distant; that's just how you ARE, but he doesn't listen. Hey, there he is now! JAMES! I GOT REMUS!"

"GOOD!" James shouted back.

"It's cold," Remus complained.

"Deal with it, mate," said Sirius cheerfully. "Tell him your idea, James."

James held up his hands. "Picture this. There's a giant stick that you're trying to touch. But it's surrounded by smaller sticks that hit you if you get too close."

"That sounds like an awful game," said Remus, his teeth chattering already from the cold. He just wanted to go back inside.

"Yeah, well, you like to read. You hardly know what fun is."

Remus ignored the insult. "Er... that game sounds like it involves a lot of sticks," he said.

"Oh, it does."

"Where... are we going to get all those sticks? I'm almost afraid to ask."

James grinned and pointed towards the Whomping Willow, and Remus' heart stopped.

"No," he said, making his voice as firm as possible despite the cold.

"Aw, come on, Rem!"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because no. That's why not."

"That's an awful reason."

"James, it's a Whomping Willow! It could hurt you! That's its literal purpose!"

"But there's a prize if you win," said James, waggling his eyebrows.

"I don't care what kind of daft prize you lot came up with; I am not risking my neck to touch a tree. There are plenty of other trees around here. I could just touch one of those."

"No, listen! I can't think of any reason why the Whomping Willow would be planted here unless it's... guarding something. So if we can touch it, we'll figure it out! Isn't that cool?"

"If it's guarding something, then it's there for good purpose," said Remus, getting more panicky by the second. "I bet it's a dragon or something. We could die."

"That's the fun of it!"

Remus had had far too many brushes with death to consider them fun. "Nope. Absolutely not. You're my only friends and I don't want to watch you die for such a stupid reason."

Oh, no, what if they found the knot? What if they learned how to get in and got to the Shrieking Shack? Wasn't it obvious that it had been destroyed by something with claws and teeth and fur? And James had already suspected a werewolf in the Shack a few months ago...

"If it bothers you so much, we won't do it," said Peter timidly. "I won't, at least."

"Oh, you're both wet blankets," laughed Sirius. "I'm in, James."

Remus inched closer to Peter, his face white with trepidation and fear. "This is going to go horribly wrong," he moaned.

But it didn't go horribly wrong, actually. James and Sirius were (to Remus' immense jealousy) very good at Shield Charms, and the branches didn't hit them at all. Remus watched, biting his lip, as they dodged branches and laughed maniacally.

"Ouch!" said Peter, and Remus let go of his hand, which he'd been clenching so hard that his knuckles had turned white.

"Sorry, Pete."

"They're not going to get hurt, you know. They're Sirius and James."

"They're not invincible," Remus muttered. He could not tear his eyes away from their antics. "They're eleven and twelve. They're not invincible at all."

After what seemed like hours, Sirius and James gave up and made their way back to Remus and Peter. Their cheeks were flushed and they were laughing and breathing heavily. "That was so fun! Did you see how that branch almost got Sirius?"

"Ah, it was a mile away," said Sirius. "But I swear that you nearly got clobbered..."

"I was better than you!"

"You both almost died," said Remus shortly. "You could have had your skulls bashed in. You could have broken bones. You could have been beaten to a pulp."

"Sheesh, Remus! Do you have to be so dark? It was fine!"

"It was not fine! The only reason that you survived was... was dumb luck! Do you ever think about the consequences? Do you know what would have happened if you'd gotten hurt?"

"Yeah, an epic funeral," said Sirius. "Like the one we gave you. With songs and dress-up and photographs."

"No! You. Could. Have. Died!"

"A little danger is fun!"

"No, it's not!" Remus felt tears coming to his eyes, but he pushed them down. They'd probably just freeze on his cheeks anyway, and that would probably hurt. "Getting hurt isn't funny! Being scared isn't funny! And the Whomping Willow is not a game! Just... stop being so stupid! Can't you just appreciate the fact that you're at Hogwarts and try to stay there? I don't need a bunch of dead friends on top of everything else..."

"On top of what else?" said James hurriedly.

"My mum! She's ill! And so am I!"

"Are you sure there's nothing else?"

"Yes!" Fiddlesticks, they were going to find out... "I'm going to the library. If you go near the Whomping Willow again, I'll tell Dumbledore."

"Ah, Remus, don't be such a killjoy!" Sirius shouted, but Remus paid him no mind; he simply wrapped his Gryffindor scarf around him more tightly and walked away.

His friends were stupid.

AN: If there was a murder tree planted in my general vicinity, I would not be voluntarily touching it.