Madam Pomfrey, like a bloodhound after a rabbit, managed to hunt Remus down the next day (despite Remus' best efforts). He knew she'd want to talk to him about the train, and Remus did not particularly want to have that talk. But, even though he tried to duck behind corridors whenever he got the chance, it was no use. "Lupin, would you mind coming to the Hospital Wing for a quick check-up?" she asked politely.

"Right now?" asked Remus. He hoped she'd forget about it if he stalled long enough.

Alas, Madam Pomfrey did not let him stall. "Yes, please," she said, and there was a certain sternness in her eyes that suggested Remus had better get down to the Hospital Wing or else.

"Ooh," said James. "Have fun, you little fragile..."

"Don't you dare finish that thought," said Remus.

"...china doll!"

Remus narrowed his eyes. "I wasn't the one who fell off my broomstick and broke my arm, now was I?"

"One time!" sang James as Remus walked away with Madam Pomfrey. Remus wanted to yell something back, but Madam Pomfrey was already giving him more stern looks.

"They're not very nice to you," she said as they walked away from a jeering James.

Remus shook his head and smiled. "We're only playing."

"If you're sure." A few minutes later, they arrived at the Hospital Wing, and Remus sat down on his bed. "Now," she said, "I wanted to discuss the next full moon with you."

"The twenty-sixth."

"Indeed, and term ends on the thirtieth this year."

"I should be healed up by then, shouldn't I?"

"Perhaps, but I still don't think it's a good idea for you to ride the train..."

"What? Madam Pomfrey!" Remus had known she was going to say this. He'd've bet money on it (if he'd had any to spare, which he didn't). "This could be my last train ride from Hogwarts! Of course I want to ride the train!"

"I don't know why you think Professor Dumbledore would allow you to leave after your frankly remarkable performance during exams."

Remus grinned faintly, but then he continued his argument with vigour. "If my friends find out—which they're close to doing—I'm leaving. You know that, Madam Pomfrey. If they find out, then I have to leave, and that could be any day now. I'm surprised I made it through first year, honestly—second year is a stretch for sure. So I want to ride the train with them, since it might be my very last time..."

"I'm sure they'll understand if your health prohibits you from..."

"Maybe they would, but I don't! May we... may we at least leave off the decision until after the twenty-sixth? We'll see how I'm feeling then. Perhaps I'll be perfectly okay."

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "I suppose. But you must be honest about how you feel, got it?"

"Of course, Madam Pomfrey."

If push came to shove, Remus had no intention of being honest... but Madam Pomfrey didn't need to know that.

The twenty-sixth arrived, and Remus was determined to make it a good moon. No, not just a good moon—the best moon. Everything was going to be fine, and Remus would make sure of that. He tried everything: relaxing, breathing, taking naps, reading in the Shrieking Shack, playing the piano for a bit, and reciting as much poetry as he could remember. He didn't take any Pain-Relieving Potions before the full moon, but he did take the Sleeping Draught as per Madam Pomfrey's directives. And he tried to keep his fingers straight and his teeth gritted, but that proved difficult as the moon rose and the transformation started.

Then Remus was a wolf and he wanted to tear apart everything in sight. He didn't control himself—why would he?—and he didn't breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth—wolves didn't do that. He slashed at his skin and bit his own fur until the sun rose, and then there was even worse pain, and then he sat up and waited for Madam Pomfrey.

He tried to stem the bleeding on his forearm, where there was a large gash, but his fingers were too numb to be of much help. Madam Pomfrey entered and uttered the usual platitudes: "Why are you sitting up?!" "Stop talking, Lupin!" "Be still." "Are you still daft enough to want to walk?"

Remus didn't answer the first one, obeyed the second and third one, and nodded his head to the last one. Then Madam Pomfrey Disillusioned them both and walked him back to the castle.

Recovery felt slow, but Remus tried his best to do everything that Madam Pomfrey asked of him. He ate (even when he didn't feel like it), he slept (even when he wasn't sleepy), and he didn't tell Madam Pomfrey that he was fine even once. By evening on the twenty-ninth, Madam Pomfrey let him out and deemed him well enough to ride the train. Remus could have screamed with joy.

"Where were you, mate?" asked James.

"I was ill," said Remus. "Caught a cold. Weak immune system. But I'm fine now."

"Fragile china doll," muttered James, and Remus hit him. "Anyway. End-of-year feast starts in a couple of minutes." He smirked. "Oh, Remus, you won't believe what we've done to the place."

Remus wanted to say that he didn't like the sound of that, but he definitely, definitely did.

The Marauders raced each other down to the Great Hall (fortunately, Madam Pomfrey wasn't around; she'd have murdered Remus for trying to run, even though he lost the race by a very large margin). They sat down, breathing heavily and laughing, and watched Professor Dumbledore take his place at the front of the Hall. He held up his wand. Golden sparks shot from the tip, and the Hall went quiet.

"This wouldn't be much of a school without fierce, violent House competition," said Dumbledore grandly. "And on that note, I would like to congratulate the winners of the House Cup... Slytherin! Slytherin, incidentally, also won the Quidditch Cup. Let us all show our appreciation!"

Everyone clapped. Peter, James, and Sirius did not. Remus tried to clap (if only to annoy his friends), but James and Sirius nearly jumped over the table to tackle him and he had to stop.

"The points are as follows: Slytherin has five hundred ninety-three, Hufflepuff has four hundred seventy-one, Ravenclaw has four hundred sixty, and Gryffindor has..." Dumbledore stopped. "Well. This is most unusual. Gryffindor has forty-eight-point-seven-three points. Congratulations, Hogwarts!"

Remus was laughing so hard that he nearly fell out of his chair. He glanced up at Professor Questus, who was animatedly talking to Professor McGonagall and chuckling a little himself. The room roared with cheers and applause—Remus hated the noise, but he loved everything else.

Dumbledore continued speaking; though his voice was quiet, it carried throughout the Great Hall clearly. "This year has been a good one, full of unexpected surprises, troublemaking—" James nudged Sirius and grinned— "and friends. We bid goodbye to our seventh-years and look forward to the brand-new first-years who will our halls in September. And, finally, I would like to commend whomever has drawn moustaches on all of the Slytherin decorations—wonderful curlicues. Have a marvelous summer, and..." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled once more. "a marvelous feast! Tuck in!"

Remus glanced up at the Slytherin banners. Indeed, each one of the fabric snakes was sporting a curly moustache. Remus grinned as James and Sirius and Peter laughed. He wasn't going to ask how they'd managed that.

The feast was delicious, and Remus forced himself to eat more than he expected he could hold. Maybe he'd gain more weight if he tried hard enough. Dessert was wonderful, but the sweetest part by far was the lighthearted banter with his friends. He loved Hogwarts.

After supper, everyone retired to their dormitories. Remus didn't use the Pensieve that night; he knew he wouldn't need it. Why would he want to remove the weight of the memories when they were all good ones? And, sure enough, he didn't have a single nightmare that night.

What was Greyback and the full moon compared to this indescribable joy? For another three and a half minutes, Remus forgot completely that he was a werewolf.

A new record!

The next day, Remus stopped by Professor Questus' room one final time and knocked on the door. He heard Professor Questus sigh dramatically and was a little offended, but Questus opened the door for him anyway. "Lupin," he said, and he didn't seem happy at all to see him. "What do you want?"

"Er..." Remus wasn't sure what to say. "Well, yesterday was Thursday, and two days before that it was Tuesday..."

"Astute observation. I'm glad you still know the days of the week."

"Erm, yeah..."

"Impressive considering you were an animal only a couple of days ago."

Okay, that had been a little uncalled for—even for Questus. Remus swallowed his embarrassment and asked, "You don't want me to make up a duelling lesson?"

"Best not," said Questus. "I'm busy." He tried to shut the door, but Remus put his hand out.

"Wait."

Questus raised his eyebrows. "Lupin, I am very busy."

"What is it? What aren't you telling me? I know there's something." Remus tried to peer into the classroom, thinking that perhaps a clue lied therein, but Questus blocked his way. "You've been acting weird lately. You said you had good news, but you never told me what it was, and now you're acting like you don't want me here at all, even though you've seemed pretty happy to see me lately..."

Questus sighed again, even more dramatically this time. "You're too observant for your own good," he said. "It's going to get you into trouble one day. You're lucky I'm so forgiving." Remus laughed a little at that, and Questus' lips twitched in vague amusement. "Come in, if you really must."

Remus walked into the classroom hesitantly, and—for a moment—he thought that perhaps he was in the wrong one. The walls were bare, the floor was swept, and every stray item had been packed. There was no bookshelf... no green lamp on Professor Questus' desk... no desks at all. In fact, the only thing that Remus could see in the room was a stack of boxes pushed up against the wall.

"Are you moving classrooms?" Remus asked, knowing full well that it wasn't custom to remove all the furniture at the end of the year.

"More like moving jobs," said Questus abruptly.

Remus blinked. "What?"

"I'd tell you to take a seat, but there's really no place to sit," said Questus. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I didn't want to tell you. Didn't want to tell anyone, actually; it's a lot easier to disappear without saying anything. But the Ministry offered me my job back... and I accepted, obviously. This may come as a surprise, but I never liked children, and I'm definitely not trained as a teacher."

"Oh," breathed Remus. "So that was the good news that you heard in April? That's why you were so happy?"

"Yep. I've officially been reinstated as an Auror." He snorted. "With the rise of Dark activity, the Ministry has decided that a few childish insults towards one Orion Black is no longer a substantial reason to sack someone from the Department."

"Congratulations," said Remus timidly. Even though he knew he was being a bit selfish, he didn't really want Questus to go.

"Oh, don't be like that. You sound so disappointed. Being a teacher was never really in my plans, and I wasn't a very good one."

"I thought you were."

"Don't flatter me. If I was good with you, it's because you don't annoy me half to death. Most people do. You know, I made twelve students cry this year, some of whom were seventh-years."

Remus wanted to laugh, but he didn't feel it was appropriate. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. He'd never admit it, but he was a bit hurt. Questus had known since April, yet he'd never said a word. Hadn't he known that he was Remus' best outlet for werewolf-related topics? Hadn't he known that duelling lessons were often the highlights of Remus' day? Remus was sure that Questus had known these things; he always seemed to be able to guess whatever Remus was thinking. Yet he hadn't said a word—hadn't even dropped any hints—and he'd been about to leave without even alerting Remus beforehand. "You were really just going to leave without saying anything?" Remus asked, and it was a bit embarrassing how quiet his voice was.

"It's not like we're best mates, Lupin. I don't owe you information. You're a first-year."

"Yeah, but..."

"I wasn't about to tell the whole class, and I'm not supposed to have favorites. Special treatment is a no-no."

"Of course, but..." That was ridiculous. Remus had already been getting special treatment for months. He'd been getting private lessons, for heaven's sake. "You helped a lot, you know."

"You had literally nowhere to go but up," said Questus, and it was such a Questus-y comment that Remus was hit with the sudden urge to ask—beg—force him to stay. Somehow. He wasn't sure how. It wasn't as if he could win a duel against him or anything.

Questus rolled his eyes. "Please don't ruin this for me, Lupin. It's supposed to be a happy occasion, you know. I hated this school when I was a student, and I hate it now. I just..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I know that we spent a lot of time together, I know I probably should have said something, and it really wouldn't have been fair to you if you came back next year and got the news with absolutely no warning, but... I'm not good at goodbyes. Or hellos. Or any social situation, really. So I wanted to avoid it." He shrugged. "And I really don't regret not saying anything. It would have been just as awkward then as it is now, and I was sure you could handle it."

Remus nodded, even though he didn't agree. He didn't think it was fair at all for Questus to leave without even saying anything. He couldn't imagine Hogwarts next year without Professor Questus visiting him after full moons and giving him lessons, giving him duelling lessons every Tuesday and Thursday, or letting him come by the DAD classroom when he needed someone to yell at him until he felt better. What was Hogwarts going to be like without Questus to not-pity and not-coddle and not-fuss-over? What was it going to be like without Questus' blunt questions and sound reasoning? He'd helped Remus look at things from a new angle, he'd helped Remus stop being ridiculous, and he'd even let Remus sit in his office during the Quidditch game. Without all that, Hogwarts would be miserable. And who would teach DAD?

"I suppose Madam Pomfrey is happy," Remus murmured, and Questus laughed.

"She doesn't know yet. Only Dumbledore, actually. So she'll be in for quite the treat next year. You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"No," said Remus. "Not if you don't want me to."

"And I suppose you know how to keep a secret."

Remus laughed, albeit weakly. "We'll see how much longer that lasts."

Questus frowned. "I don't have to tell you to be careful. But if you have a problem, I suggest you talk to Dumbledore—since I know you used to come to me."

Remus nodded.

"It's odd, isn't it? Being so close to your teachers since you can't get too close to your classmates."

Remus nodded again.

"Well. I should probably get to the Ministry headquarters now; I'm expected in twenty minutes. So, here's the part that I wanted to avoid..." He stuck out his hand. "Remus Lupin. Pleasure knowing you."

Remus shook it hesitantly. "Likewise, Professor."

"Ah, don't call me that. Not anymore." He looked at Remus intensely, still gripping his hand, and Remus was afraid to pull away. "I suppose my closing statement is... don't do anything stupid. That sums it up."

"As you are no longer my teacher," said Remus, smiling now, "I have half a mind to warn you of the same thing."

Questus let go of Remus' hand and suddenly started laughing hard. "I shall stay very far away from Orion Black from now on," he promised. "Merlin's beard. I should probably leave right away, now that I know I'm not safe from your cheek."

And so Auror John Questus left Hogwarts both suddenly and mysteriously, and Remus was left with many questions, much confusion, the odd lingering feeling that he hadn't seen the last of him.

Despite the slight manipulation, the constant curiosity, the blunt statements, and the fact that he'd blasted Remus into a wall multiple times during their duelling lessons and quite often insulted him because of his condition...

Remus had liked Professor Questus.

Remus had two more stops to make before the train ride, and the first one required him to enter a place he'd never wanted to visit ever again.

He knocked on the door of the Hospital Wing, and he could hear Madam Pomfrey grumbling about students who hurt themselves just before getting on the train. When she opened the door and saw Remus standing there sheepishly, she stopped grumbling immediately. "Lupin!" she exclaimed, already pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. Remus wrinkled his nose and tried to push her away, but she wasn't having it. "Why on earth are you here? Are you feeling unwell after all? Don't worry about it; we'll get you home tomorrow if you need another day in the Hospital Wing..."

"No!" said Remus. "No, I'm riding the train."

"Then why are you here? If you're injured then I must insist you stay, since you're already delicate from the full moon..."

"I'm not delicate!" said Remus. "I just... I wanted to say goodbye."

Madam Pomfrey blinked. "Pardon?"

"Goodbye. I wanted to say goodbye. And thank you."

"I'm just doing my job," said Madam Pomfrey, putting her hand over her heart. "But you're very kind, Mr. Lupin."

"Just doing your job? You've only saved my life about ten times," said Remus with a grin.

"Nonsense. You said so yourself: werewolves don't kill themselves on the full moon."

"Still," said Remus. "There's no one I'd rather have telling me off for trying to do basic things like sitting up and talking, making me take naps, force-feeding me disgusting potions, and snapping me out of it when I get all self-pitying. So thank you."

Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes. "I appreciate the sentiment, but this sounds suspiciously like a permanent goodbye. You are coming back next year, aren't you?"

Remus hesitated. "I hope. But sometimes things change unexpectedly, and my friends are going to find out soon, and I wanted to make sure..."

"Stop being ridiculous. You're coming back, I'm seeing you next year, and you're not saying goodbye."

"All right, then," said Remus, smiling. "I'll see you in September, probably. And I made you a card."

"A... card?"

"Yeah." Remus reached into his bag and pulled out a piece of parchment folded in half. It was simple—only a quick thank-you, a signature, and a picture of Bufo. Madam Pomfrey looked a little like she was going to cry, but switched back to her Matron Voice immediately.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Lupin. It's a lovely card, although I'm still not very fond of toads. Do enjoy your summer. Stay safe. Owl me if anything goes wrong."

"Of course, Madam Pomfrey," said Remus. "Goodb—"

"See you in September," Madam Pomfrey corrected.

"See you in September!"

Last stop. Remus knocked on the door of Hagrid's hut. "Hullo? Hagrid? Are you awake?"

There was a loud crash from inside the hut, and Remus snickered. The door flew open, and Hagrid stood there, thoroughly disheveled. "Sorry! I... I was cooking."

Remus smelled smoke. "Is something burning?"

Hagrid let him in and took what resembled biscuits out of the oven. "No, jus' slightly charred."

Remus giggled nervously, hoping with all his heart that Hagrid would not offer him a biscuit. "I can't stay and talk for a long time," he said, "but I wanted to say goodbye."

Hagrid froze. "Yeh are comin' back next year, aren't yeh?"

Why was everyone asking him that? "Yes, probably—if nothing goes wrong and no one finds out, I mean. But I want to say goodbye anyway."

"Well, tha's very kind of you," said Hagrid.

Remus didn't know what else to say to Hagrid, who spent so long telling him stories and helping him find gifts for his friends. Remus hadn't been visiting him as much lately, but it was always good to know that he was there if Remus needed him. He was always sympathetic, always understood—to a point—and had been Remus' first friend ever. How could he possibly thank Hagrid for all that? What could he possibly do?

"D'ya want a biscuit before yeh go?" said Hagrid.

Well. Remus supposed he could do that, even though it would be absolute torture. "Sure," said Remus after a moment's hesitation, and then—purely out of the goodness of his heart—he suffered through the biscuit with all the tolerance of someone who had to drink fairy's wings and frog eyes every full moon.

"Well, mates," said James, looking over their dormitory. "We've done pretty well, I think."

"First year all finished," said Sirius sullenly. "Time to go home."

"We've played pranks, played music, played games, and played Quidditch. We have a secret Knock, a secret notebook, secret nicknames, and a plethora of in-jokes. So ends the first year of the Marauders," said James grandly, and it was obvious that he'd written the speech out and memorized it. "Write this summer in the notebook, all right?"

"Of course," said Sirius. "And keep the mirror close by, James."

"Of course."

"You'll be all right, Remus?" said Peter.

"I'll be all right," said Remus quietly, looking at his bed by the window. Would he ever come back? Would his friends find out the truth over the summer? He didn't know what was going to happen, and it scared him.

Remus was about as scared to leave Hogwarts as he had been to come in the first place. He supposed it was a bit like taking a shower—he never wanted to get in at first, but then, as soon as the water warmed, he never wanted to get out.

"We'll be back in September," said Sirius, more to himself than anyone else. "Only a few months."

"Only a few," echoed Remus. "I'll... I'll miss you. All of you."

"Awww," crooned James. "We'll miss you, too! But don't say your goodbyes yet—we've still got the train, haven't we? And it's going to be the best train ride we've ever had!

And it was.

The train ride back was fun, upbeat, and chaotic, just as Remus had expected it to be. Pulling back into the station was bittersweet, just as Remus had expected it to be. And Sirius was sullen and pitiable, James was hyper, and Peter was quiet—just as Remus had expected them to be.

And now—after nine months, ten full moons, countless homework assignments, and nearly three hundred eighty thousand words—it was time to leave the school to which Remus had become so accustomed and return to fake smiles and books. For a while, Remus was disappointed. But when he saw his father's face at the station, waiting for him, he immediately felt overjoyed to see him again and to be going home.

"Goodbye, James! Goodbye, Peter! Goodbye, Sirius!" Remus cried before he hopped off the train and hugged his parents tightly.

"How are you?" asked his father. "You look even healthier than in January! How were the exams? You haven't written to us as often..."

Remus smiled and held his fingers up to his lips. He'd tell his father and mother everything, of course—but right now, he just wanted to watch the Hogwarts Express pull out of the station.

Eventually, Remus' family all climbed into the Muggle car for the long trip home, and Remus watched King's Cross station fade into the distance before saying anything else. There was a sort of reverence in the air—a bit of awe—a touch of pure amazement that Remus Lupin, werewolf, had made it through a full year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and was better because of it.

But the silence didn't last too long, because there was still something that Remus had been waiting months to tell his parents. Frankly, he couldn't wait any longer.

"So..." Remus said slyly. "About exams... I haven't told you yet, but I'm top of the form."

His mother made an odd strangled noise and almost drove the car into a ditch.

She pulled over, and Remus waited patiently for his parents to get over their mini heart attacks, smiling all the while. He'd been right, on that first day. Nothing was ever going to be the same again. But as Remus Lupin reflected on the last couple of months, which had been more eventful than the prior six and a half years combined, he decided that change was good.

The world had gone mad—absolutely topsy-turvy—but that was a good thing. A great thing, even. Remus was breaking all of his own rules, and it was exhilarating. James always said that rules were meant to be broken, and Remus sort of agreed now. He was a Marauder, after all.

As it turned out, the Sorting Hat had been right all along. Remus sort of... maybe... kind of... had a penchant for mischief.

But only a little.

AN: And... that's the end!

If you've stuck with me and Remus for this long, I wholeheartedly thank you. This was a blast to write, and all your positive feedback has made the editing (and occasionally crippling self-doubt) well worthwhile. I'm not exactly sure how many people are keeping up with the story, but I'd like to thank each and every one of you nonetheless.

It's been a long journey. If you'd like to stop here, I believe I've tied up most loose ends to the best of my ability. If you'd like to keep reading in the world of Marauders and Monsters, there is currently a sequel published! It's called Of Meditation and Revelations—you can go to my profile and find it or just search it up. Like Marauders and Monsters, you can find it on AO3 as well as FFN. Just so that you know what you're getting into... I believe it is just as long as this one!

I thank you again. It's been a wild journey full of crazy fast updates, plotless scenes, much dialogue, and lots of angst—and I can't wait for the next 99 chapters!

And to the lovely reviewer who really wants me to make first year exactly one hundred chapters—that's an extremely valid point lol, and I would love to, but I also don't want to spin my wheels over finding a place to split my very even chapters. Besides, 99 feels unfinished, somehow—which is appropriate, because—although I've finished the first year—many of you will be happy to note that I am far from finished with this series:) I'm afraid I'll be sticking around for quite a while!

See you on the other side :D