Time seemed to be passing more quickly for Remus, who was now readily accepted by his friends. Everything was more fun with their lighthearted jeers, the late-night study sessions with Peter, the banter with Sirius, and James' optimism and excitement. Remus' nightmares were pretty much completely gone, courtesy of the Pensieve. Pictures covered both the albums and the walls of the dormitory, courtesy of Sirius. Remus' duels with Professor Questus slowly became more intense and advanced, courtesy of lots of hard work and Questus' intense coaching.

Life was good!

One day, Remus and Questus managed to duel for ten minutes before Remus lost (though Questus was obviously going easy on him), and Remus was able to utilize nearly every single spell and shield that he knew. Remus' senses, he found, actually did give him an extra split-second—but only when he was paying very close attention. The duel was furious and nearly completely silent (even though Remus had to cast a few verbal spells when he lost focus), and Remus even managed to hit Questus with a Confundus Charm at one point. Questus, however, was so proficient in duelling that he was much better than Remus even when Confunded.

Eventually, Questus got Remus with a well-placed Knockback Jinx; Remus tried to block it, but his shield wasn't strong enough. He stumbled backwards, ran into a desk, and fell over—before he knew it, Questus had Disarmed him.

"That was the longest I've ever lasted," Remus said in awe from his place on the floor.

Questus walked over to Remus and helped him up, grinning, and Remus was smiling just as widely as he accepted his wand back. "Now that was a duel," Professor Questus said. "That was a very solid duel. Only real duel we've had all year, really—a right proper duel. Well done. Very well done."

Remus thought back to the rapid-fire spells, the pure focus of all his senses, the constant adrenaline, the mechanical rhythm to it all, the engagement of every single part of his mind, along with his body and his wand, and the fluid movements of spells in silence. Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, but it was completely different from full-moon adrenaline... it was more like pillow-fight-with-his-friends adrenaline. It was good adrenaline, and Remus was still rather unused to the sensation. "That was pretty fun," he admitted.

"Thrilling, wasn't it?" Questus said: apparently, the phrase pretty fun was not quite enough for him. "Exciting, stimulating, frightening, and calming all at once."

Remus nodded fervently, still grinning. "Yeah. Those are good words."

"You can take your hand away from your face, you know," said Questus abruptly.

"Hm?"

"Noticed that you cover your mouth whenever you smile like that," said Questus, shrugging. "Figure it's an odd reluctance to show your teeth, since you always either smile close-mouthed or cover your mouth with your hand. It's a bit ridiculous. Your teeth are perfectly normal, aren't they? That's what all the books said, at least."

"I... suppose. I mean, yeah. Yeah, they are." Remus was sort of flustered now, and he stopped smiling.

"Anyway. Didn't mean to ruin the moment." Questus had a sort of faraway gaze in his eyes. "You know, I still remember my first proper duel. Duelled a little as a kid, but I wouldn't count any of them as proper, really, until I got into Auror training. My Hogwarts duelling was mostly practice by myself... but the Aurors were very, very talented. Not as talented as I am now, granted, but..."

"Your humility is akin to that of James Potter."

"Watch it. Anyway, most of my duels were like our early ones—one or two spells and I was Disarmed. I was studying under a man called Conrad, and he was harder on me than I am on you, believe it or not." He paused. "Then we started duelling against the other trainees. There was a very talented female trainee around my age—her name was Merrick. Darla Merrick. Duel lasted fifteen and a half minutes. I won, by the way, but by a hair.

"After duelling with Conrad for so long, it was the best feeling in the world to duel against someone who matched my own talents. Well, almost matched. She didn't pass Auror training—failed the final test by three questions and then dropped out to become a teacher at Beauxbatons. But still. I'd worked so hard to get to that place, and finally reaching it was glorious. That's why I didn't pull a Conrad on you—I tried to stoop to your level, at least a little, so that you could get a taste of what it was like... and duelling is like... it's like..." Questus wasn't often a man who was lost for words, but it seemed he had a passion for duelling that was completely unmatched and unfathomable; beyond words themselves. Remus reckoned duelling was Questus' favorite thing in the world.

"Forgetting," murmured Remus, finishing the sentence on his own.

"Hm? No, I think it's more like remembering, actually. Remembering everything, all at once, and then using it against the opponent. Showing them exactly what you're made of, every tiny aspect of who—and what—you are. You know?"

Remus shook his head. "No. No, that's not what it was at all."

Questus laughed. He'd been doing that a lot more recently—actually laughing. Remus supposed it went along with whatever he'd been so happy about lately. "Well, I suppose you'd rather forget than remember, yes? We're different in that sense. And you've been trying to keep away from what and who you are rather than displaying it, so I suppose that makes sense."

"I've also only duelled once," said Remus.

"Well, that too. Pity they won't let you be an Auror. You'd make an excellent one. Though I suppose you'll join the war efforts somehow." He grinned again. "So... what do you say we go again?"

Remus smiled back and picked up his wand. "Expelliarmus."

The final Quidditch match was also in May, but it was on the twenty-seventh. Gryffindor hadn't made it (it was Hufflepuff against Slytherin) but James was still excited. Remus desperately wanted to go—after all, it was probably his last chance to see a Quidditch final, since his friends would probably find out about him soon and oust him out of the school with pitchforks and hexes. Alas, the full moon was the following day and Remus' senses were far too strong to suffer through such a loud event. So he told them that his mum was ill again.

James gave him a skeptical look. "Your mum is ill, huh? On the full moon? Again?"

Remus panicked. "The potion, remember? I told you about that potion that helps my mum when she's ill. I told you how it's best brewed under the full moon, right? So my family's always busy around that time, 'specially since Dad works in the D.R.C.M.C. and needs to go help with werewolf attacks and such... anyway, I need to go help Dad, since Mum's having a relapse."

"Fine, fine," said James. "Horrible you have to miss the Quidditch final."

"I know," said Remus mournfully. "Write me? In the notebook? I want to know who's won as soon as it happens."

"'Course," said James. He was still looking a bit skeptical, but he was also controlling it nicely. "And write to us about your mum."

"'Course," echoed Remus, grabbing his bag and heading towards the Hospital Wing.

He was about halfway there when he caught James' scent from behind him—heard his familiar footsteps—heard his breathing. Remus turned around, but he didn't see anyone.

Of course: James was following him under the Invisibility Cloak.

Fiddlesticks, Remus thought angrily.

He turned back around, pretending as if he'd just glanced behind him for fun or something. And then he kept walking: past the Hospital Wing... towards the DAD classroom... praying that James would make a noise so that Remus could call him out on it... but even James' breathing was quiet.

He knocked on the door to the DAD classroom, and Professor Questus answered immediately. "Lupin? What are you doing here?"

"I'm going to see my mum today, remember, sir?" said Remus, praying that Professor Questus would catch on.

"Your mum? What are you on about?"

"Yes, my mum, who is currently sick and dying. You know. Did Professor Dumbledore tell you?"

"Tell me what?" asked Questus. To Remus' relief, comprehension was slowly beginning to dawn on Questus' face as he furtively searched the air behind Remus.

"Professor Dumbledore's Floo is down today, Professor. Something about a runaway Hippogriff and some yarn. He says yours is working, so I'm using your fireplace today to visit Mum. It's the same process as it is every time I have to go home; I'm merely using a different fireplace."

"He did not tell me that," Questus said, "but it sounds like something that would happen. Hogwarts is mad, I tell you." He let Remus in, and Remus entered as quickly as possible... but James had all the reflexes of a Quidditch player and managed to slip in behind Remus before Remus could close the door. Remus flicked his eyes behind him as he sat down, and Professor Questus seemed to understand. "Would you like some tea before you go?" he asked, and Remus nodded.

Questus busied himself with the tea, and Remus tried to act like someone who was going home to see his ill mother. James was still standing in the corner silently.

"Same thing as always?" said Questus, handing him a cup. "Relapse? Father gone to monitor the full moon? Potion-brewing and mother-caring duties?"

"Yes, sir," said Remus, sipping his tea.

"Must be hard having a werewolf mother."

Remus almost spit out his tea, and he heard James' breathing quicken with excitement. Remus knew what Questus was doing: he thought that Remus would be safer if his friends were under the assumption that he had a werewolf mother. But that was Remus' right to decide! Questus wasn't being fair at all... he couldn't heap so much discrimination and persecution upon Hope Lupin, who had only ever done wonderful things for Remus.

But Remus could still deflect this. Fortunately, he was very practiced at deflecting suspicion at this point. "Ha-ha, very funny, sir," Remus said dryly, finishing his tea. "I shouldn't have told you about that daft idea that James had. Are you ever going to stop joking about it?"

Questus frowned and narrowed his eyes at Remus, but then he pasted on a mock smile and helped Remus out instead. "It is rather ridiculous. Have they come to their senses yet?"

"Not sure. Every time I think they have, James brings it up again."

"Can't imagine you being half-werewolf," said Questus, smirking slightly. "You're far too nice."

"Right?" said Remus. He tried for an innocent smile. "And imagine keeping around a werewolf in the family. Someone would have been dead by now. It's dangerous, isn't it?"

"Precisely," said Questus. "Werewolves can't be trusted much. I should know; fought a bunch..."

"In your Auror days, yes," teased Remus. "Yep, I got it. You were an Auror. I've heard once or twice. Or twenty-seven times."

"Quiet, you," said Questus, but Remus knew that he was smiling behind his teacup. "I'm going to have to take a point from Gryffindor for that, you know."

"Sorry."

"Yes, yes. Are you ready to go?"

"Er..." said Remus. He wasn't sure what Questus was going to do if he said yes. He wasn't sure Questus had an idea at all. Perhaps he was just waiting for Remus to come up with one. No matter: Remus could do that easily with a little bit of planning and a whole lot of luck. "I think Bufo hopped out of my bag," Remus said. "Would you look for him while I finish my tea?" Remus flicked his line of sight towards James, and Questus gave a curt nod.

"Although I don't quite understand why you can't find your toad yourself, I would be happy to help..." With that, Questus ran directly into James, who was cornered and couldn't have gone anywhere if he'd tried. Questus looked appropriately surprised—he pulled the Cloak off of James, and James rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Potter? What are you doing in here?"

"Sorry!" said James. "I was only curious about Remus, so I followed him, and I ended up in here and couldn't get out until someone opened the door."

"You realize that's a serious invasion of privacy?" said Questus, who, ironically, did not often seem to care about Remus' privacy at all, what with his blunt questions and harsh observations. Remus snickered, and James looked relieved at Remus' lack of anger. "Five points from Gryffindor, Potter. You should be glad I don't give you a detention."

James nodded, still looking at Remus. "Remus, I..."

"I'm not angry with you," said Remus. "If you do it again, maybe, but right now I'm just relieved that we can put this matter to rest. My mum is not a werewolf, James, and Professor Questus can vouch for me."

James looked at Questus and raised his eyebrows. "I wanna hear it one more time."

"Sir," Questus prompted, and James rolled his eyes.

"I want to hear it one more time, sir."

"Lupin's mother is definitely not a werewolf, and I think the notion is quite ridiculous," said Questus simply. "Now get out of my office, Potter, before I decide to triple your punishment. Hurry so you don't miss the Quidditch game."

James exited the classroom quickly, and Questus shut the door behind him.

There was a long moment of silence. Remus took another sip of tea.

"Is he waiting outside the door...?" asked Questus.

"Oh. No, he's gone."

"Good." Questus collapsed into a chair and covered his face with his hands, clearly laughing. "Merlin's beard, that was brilliant."

"Brilliant?" Remus had the urge to make a jab about Questus covering his mouth as he was smiling—just as Remus had—but didn't want to lose any more points for Gryffindor.

"Yes, brilliant! Haven't done anything like that since I was an Auror. My goodness. The nonverbal communication. Visual cues. Improvisation. Didn't you think it was fun? I missed this so much."

"Maybe it would have been fun if I hadn't felt so guilty the whole time about lying to James, Professor," Remus muttered.

"Oh, please. You can't risk leaving Hogwarts; it's too good for you. You don't have a choice but to lie."

"Doesn't make it any easier."

"Maybe not. But..." He rubbed his face and started laughing again. "You're good at it. If you could only be an Auror—the Ministry is right stupid for being so prejudiced. The spy you would have made!"

"I don't want to be a spy, sir."

Questus ignored him. "It's so hard to believe, sometimes, that you only just turned twelve a couple months ago. You have better sense than half of my colleagues did. And better senses, plural. With proper training, you could've been more legendary than Hephaestus Gore. If only... oh, the Ministry is so stupid about such matters."

"I'm not that good," said Remus. "Only practiced in lying, and that's not a very noble thing to be practiced in."

"Whoever said anything about Aurors being noble?" said Questus. "Trust me, they aren't all noble."

Remus wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean.

The laughter died down, and Questus' eyes lost their shine as quickly as they'd taken it on. Now was deadly serious and stern. "Why on earth didn't you let me convince Potter that your mother was a werewolf?" he asked. "It would have bought you so much more time."

"Because, sir," said Remus venomously, still angry, "my mother would be ostracized from society if that got out. Her life would be ruined. My friends might hate me anyway."

"Listen to me, Lupin. If you told them that your mother was a werewolf, they would probably keep you around—after all, it's not you that's a werewolf. They might agree to meet your mum somewhere down the line. They would see that she's not evil or dangerous. You could say nice things about her every so often to remind them that she's just like them. And then they would slowly realize that werewolves are just like ordinary humans..."

Remus shook his head. "Not true."

"Werewolves are just like ordinary humans in most respects," said Questus loudly. "And then, when they finally found out the truth—if they ever did!—they would be much, much more likely to remain your friends in spite of your lycanthropy. It's the perfect plan. I don't see why—"

"I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy!" said Remus. "Not even to save myself. Not even to keep my friends. Not even in my imagination! And my mum has only sacrificed her whole life to keep me alive, so why would I..."

"It's not like you're actually infecting her!" said Questus, and Remus flinched at the mere prospect. "It's only a story, and stories never hurt anyone."

"That's not true at all, sir," said Remus. "And it's definitely not your place to decide for me what my friends should believe about my life. That was unfair of you." Remus knew he was being a little too bold, but he also knew he was right. He'd made it abundantly clear that he didn't want his friends to believe such things about his mother. It had not been Questus' place to make the decision for him.

Questus sighed. "As much as I'd like to sit here and debate the topic with you, I know for a fact that you are nearly as stubborn as I am and will not sway from your position."

"Precisely, sir."

"I can only..." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I can only assure you that, being an Auror, I know what works and what doesn't, and I know a good plan when I see one. Being your teacher, I only want what's best for you and your friends. Being a wizard with werewolf experience, I know that friends are a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you. And, being your duelling instructor who spends an ridiculous amount of time with you each week, I know for a fact that you need Hogwarts in order to maintain a decent mental state. Are you really willing to ignore all of my better judgement and experience just to avoid doing something uncomfortable?"

"Of course," said Remus instantly.

"I thought so."

An awkward silence.

"How are you feeling, then?" Questus asked. "And why was James following you? This is a bit early for the Hospital Wing, isn't it?"

"I was going to go to the Hospital Wing early, because I knew I couldn't attend a Quidditch game this close to the full moon... and James, of course, won't take no for an answer. So I told him I was visiting my mum again."

"You're just going to spend the whole day in the Hospital Wing?"

"Well, yeah. I feel pretty ill this close to the full moon. And there aren't any classes today, so there's no reason to..."

"That's ridiculous. You hate the Hospital Wing."

"Not that much..."

"Don't even try, Lupin. You may be able to lie to your friends, but you most certainly cannot lie to me."

Remus sighed. "Professor, a pleasant night in the Hospital Wing is hardly the worst thing I have ever had to endure."

"Obviously. Do you want to stay in here, instead?"

Remus was a bit taken aback by the offer. He certainly hadn't expected it. "How is this better than the Hospital Wing?" he asked.

Questus snorted. "I, unlike Pomfrey, am confident in your ability to take care of yourself: I'm definitely not going to make you lie down, and I have absolutely no potions on hand to force-feed you. Feel free to do whatever you want—I have plenty of work to do, so I won't bother you much. Essays to read, quizzes to score. I'm sure my classroom is preferable to Pomfrey's constant fussing, isn't it?"

Remus didn't want to imply that he wasn't thankful for Madam Pomfrey, but it was extremely tempting to accept the offer. As wonderful as Madam Pomfrey was, she could be a bit smothering... especially when Remus really was feeling well enough to do most things on his own. "Thank you, sir," said Remus, completely in awe.

"Not at all. You're easier to tolerate than your friends, at least."

"Thank you," said Remus again.

"Say 'thank you' one more time and I'll take back that last statement."

Remus did not thank him; instead, he pulled out a book and read the entire thing, cover-to-cover, without even being prompted to put it down and go to sleep. Every so often, Professor Questus would say something, and Remus would respond, and then they would lapse back into a sort of comfortable/awkward silence.

Nope, it was mostly awkward. But Remus would rather have awkward than smothering.

It was rather nice, and—as much as Remus loathed to admit it (due to his loyalty to Madam Pomfrey)—the classroom was much nicer than the Hospital Wing. He felt more dignified here, reading in silence with Professor Questus. There was no coddling, lying down, or taking potions. Remus was allowed to manage his own symptoms, and he felt very grown-up. Besides, the conversation wasn't bad, either.

"Your friend Pettigrew did well on his essay," said Professor Questus in surprise at one point. "Very well. I can't find much wrong with it."

"I knew he would," said Remus, smiling.

"Why, did he cheat?"

"No! I helped him, but not much. He's getting a lot better."

"That he is." Questus put Peter's essay aside and picked up the next one. "So you tutor him regularly?"

"Not really tutoring," protested Remus. "Just helping. That's what friends do."

"You'd make a good teacher as well as an Auror," said Questus. "I've heard you helping him during class. And Flitwick said that you came up with a new confidence technique—just off the top of your head—that he's started employing with skittish first-years. Something about envisioning?"

"Oh, right." Remus remembered coming up with that while helping Peter with the Unlocking Charm. It had been a very long time ago—not quite a year, but it felt like much longer. Had Flitwick really been using it with other students? Remus felt a tiny prickle of pride.

"You teach that boy far better than I ever could," said Questus. "Honestly. Shame you're a werewolf, really. You'd be good at a great many professions."

"Lots of kids are going to make great teachers and Aurors," said Remus. "Not just me. It's not like I'm the hope of the wizarding world. I'm expendable."

"Well, of course. Other students will make great teachers and Aurors, somewhere down the line. But talent like yours is still rare."

Remus wasn't very good at taking compliments, so he only shrugged.

"You don't stand out because of your talent, though," Questus conceded. "You're not as talented as your friends."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome. No, you stand out primarily because you, due to your ridiculously mature mindset, would make a good teacher or Auror right now. Or in a few years, at least. No one else is going to be mature enough until they graduate Hogwarts. Your friend Potter isn't even mature enough to join the Quidditch team as a first-year, even though he's talented enough. Your friend Black has no maturity, despite growing up in a manner-driven Pureblood household. And your friend Pettigrew hardly knows which way to hold a wand. But you're like a forty-year-old man in a twelve-year-old body. It's a bit weird, if I'm being honest."

"It's not weird," said Remus.

"Understandable, maybe, but still weird. You've got growing to do, obviously, but if I were to put you on an Auror mission right now, you might last a whole ten minutes before dying a painful death. Which is far longer than I can say for Pomfrey or Sprout or Sidus or Hooch... or the majority of competent adults, really. If you fixed those nerves and doubled your confidence, then you could probably teach Defense Against the Dark Arts as a third-year. It's not because you're clever, or good at magic... just because you've seen enough in your short life to be wise and mature enough to handle adult things."

"It's not that much of a difference from other first-years, is it?" said Remus. "It's not noticeable or... obvious, I mean?"

"Not too much. You still get along with them. You're not so old that you don't like throwing sticks and snowballs around, at least," said Questus, and Remus smiled. "And you're not so old that you don't enjoy a good Quidditch match... although I suppose that I am the only teacher in the school who is too old for a Quidditch match. But you can be twelve when you want to be." Questus paused, evidently thinking hard. "But it's a little disturbing, sometimes, to see how fast you've had to grow up. When I was your age, I was climbing trees, poking snakes, making mud pies, and getting awful marks in school."

Remus tried to imagine Professor Questus making a mud pie. He couldn't. "I can imagine you poking a snake," mused Remus, "but none of those other things."

Questus snorted. "Well, I wasn't poking the snake, actually. I was assisting someone else in poking the snake, and also actively discouraging the activity. But that's irrelevant. My point is, it's disconcerting to see a twelve-year-old acting like an elderly person. Just more proof that the Dark Arts don't wait for anyone, I suppose."

"I don't act elderly!" Remus protested.

"Lupin," said Questus, exasperated, "you are currently reading a textbook for fun. You have weak joints, you take notes in class, and you like to sit still. You don't like the cold, you have trouble sleeping, and I'm probably right in assuming that you're the first one in your dormitory in bed—perhaps with the exception of Pettigrew? You're enjoying the company of a fifty-two-year-old man grading papers. And you have the vocabulary of a Hogwarts professor."

Remus scowled. "I don't act elderly," he repeated.

"Yeah, you do. You're probably going to start aging backwards and forwards all at the same time, hm? That'd be interesting to watch." Questus finished grading another paper and went silent again. Remus continued to read, still a little insulted. He didn't act old. Did he? Were his friends annoyed with him? They seemed to hate adults. Remus felt a lot less mature than adults, so perhaps Professor Questus was exaggerating?

Or maybe he was just trying to make excuses for enjoying the company of a first-year.

Remus smiled a little at the revelation. Yes, perhaps that was it.

It was another twenty minutes before there was any more noise in the classroom besides Remus flipping pages, a quill scratching against parchment, and Professor Questus' occasional sighs at the stupidity of his students. Remus was just considering putting down his book and practicing more nonverbal magic when Questus swung around in his chair and started staring at Remus intensely. Remus was very uncomfortable. "Er, what is it?"

"Finished reading your essay," said Questus. "Full marks, of course."

"Thank you...?" said Remus. It was extremely odd to know that his essay had been graded right in front of him, for some reason.

"Do you know," said Questus curiously, "that this is the eleventh werewolf joke that you've made in a formal essay? Counting the informal essay in April, actually. 'Enjoy a pleasant night in Hogsmeade'..." He rolled his eyes. "But this is number eleven."

"Oh. I can stop."

"No, no, that's not what I mean at all. Please don't stop. I've just been meaning to ask you..." Questus picked up the essay and scanned it again, still facing Remus. "You're terrified of yourself, aren't you?"

"Er, kind of," said Remus. "I think anybody would be, considering the extent of my injuries after a full moon."

"Well, yeah," said Questus, waving his hand, "but you're a vegetarian. You hate anything pertaining to werewolves. You don't like to answer questions about it. You could hardly say the word a few months ago. Yet here you are, making werewolf jokes in formal essays. What happened to you?"

"Well... er, my parents never talked about it much. It makes them uncomfortable. So it was sort of taboo, and now... it's not. I suppose it's easier here than it was there. I'd never discussed it before coming here, but now that I've gotten used to it... I don't really mind talking about werewolves all that much in small doses. In fact, it kind of helps." He groaned. "You know, I'd hate myself if I'd known that I was going to end up this way back in September. I hated talking about it back then. But... I've improved."

"Hm," said Questus. "You're rather funny, you know."

"Okay," said Remus.

"Really. You and your friends. Forces to be reckoned with."

Remus smiled, more proud of himself than he probably should be. He sat in the classroom for another hour before retreating to the Hospital Wing.

"Slytherin won, by the way," he told Professor Questus just before leaving. "Their shouting was quite loud earlier. I don't know if you could hear it."

"Good to know," said Questus, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Woo-hoo, and all that. Merlin's beard, I hate Quidditch. It's so boring."

Professor Questus had been right: Remus found himself a lot more relaxed, now that he hadn't been fussed over for hours. Remus had a feeling that the full moon tomorrow was going to be tolerable, at least, despite the stress of exams coming up, and that was really something.

AN: There are two chapters left after this one...