The remainder of October went by in a blur, and by Halloween, the leaves on the trees had turned from vibrant oranges and reds to brittle golden-brown. Severus was surprised at how quickly time passed when he kept his head down. Sneaking around with the other Followers, as he'd done in previous years, had made every day seem vitally important, a matter of life and death. This year, things were different; his weeks were measured by homework and lessons, not clandestine gatherings in Dungeon Thirteen and agonizing bonding activities.

The uneventful days of magical education blended into one another, so similar to his early years at Hogwarts, and he found himself yearning for the days when his biggest concern had been whether or not Slughorn would invite him to join the Slug Club. He might have even fooled himself into thinking that he was just one student among many, if it weren't for the mystery of Owen Stickley's attacker.

"Where's Avery?" he asked, joining Regulus for the Halloween feast.

Regulus took a careful bite of baked pumpkin. "I thought he was with you."

Severus shook his head. "I haven't seen him since History of Magic. Didn't you take him flying before the feast?"

"We went flying on Friday," said Regulus. "You're getting your days mixed up again."

That was possible, but Severus wasn't about to admit it. "I seem to recall that, according to Avery at least, you two would be playing Quidditch this afternoon."

Regulus set down his fork and pushed his plate away, looking worried. "He told me you'd be helping him write his essay on eleventh-century alchemy."

A very unpleasant thought crept, spider-like, into Severus' brain. "Edmund gets confused on occasion…"

"Not like this." Regulus shook his head. "He doesn't lie."

Severus gave voice to the terrible suspicion in his mind. "Do you remember the attack on that unfortunate first year last month?"

Regulus' mouth hardened into a line. "The one that nearly got us both expelled? That only could have been done by a Slytherin?"

They looked at each other for a moment. Then Severus leapt from his seat and tore out of the Great Hall, Regulus close at his heels.

They burst into the Slytherin common room at the same time. A blazing emerald fire danced in the hearth; its brilliant green light silhouetted the figure in the centre of the common room, whose outstretched wand pointed at another, smaller person cowering on the floor…

Severus and Regulus raised their wands simultaneously. "Expelliarmus!"

With the deftness of a Seeker, Regulus plucked Avery's wand from the air. Avery turned, startled.

"Sev? Reg?" He giggled nervously. "You're not supposed to be here…"

"Neither are you," snapped Severus. "Stupefy!"

The jet of red light knocked Avery backwards. He collided with the wall, barely missing the sharp edge of the mantel, and slumped to the floor.

Regulus was already kneeling next to the victim, who was curled on the rug, unmoving. "Salazar's fangs," he whispered, rolling the student over. "It's Albert Jenkins — he's a third-year, I helped him find the Divination classroom once…"

"Half-blood?" asked Severus.

"Yes. More than half." Suddenly, Regulus drew in a sharp breath, and he jerked his hand away from Jenkin's body as though he'd been burned. Blood glistened on his palm. "He's bleeding, Severus. Can you heal him?"

Severus' eyes swept over the wounds. He could practically feel the Dark magic oozing from them. "Unlikely. Even I have my limitations. Where Avery learned this curse, I can't fathom…"

"I'll get Madam Pomfrey," said Regulus, scrambling upright. "He's not as badly hurt as Stickley was, it's a good thing we arrived when we did…"

"Wait," said Severus. He pointed at Albert Jenkin's prone form. "Obliviate him."

Regulus blanched. "What?"

"You heard me," said Severus. "He'll incriminate Avery as soon as he wakes up. Make him forget that Avery was involved."

Regulus' features hardened. "No."

"We don't have time to argue about this."

"Edmund betrayed us! I'm not about to — to cover for him, even if he is a Follower —"

"Do you really think Avery acted on his own initiative?" asked Severus.

Regulus fell silent.

"He can't even cast Alohomora without help anymore," said Severus. "Let alone performing magic like this. Someone taught him this curse. I'm certain of it."

Regulus' eyes flickered towards Avery, who was crumpled in a heap in a corner of the common room. "But… who would do such a thing?"

"We'll find out," said Severus darkly. "Obliviate Jenkins before he bleeds out, will you?"

For a moment, Regulus was very still. Then he placed his wand to Jenkin's temple, his hand trembling. He bent low over the body, whispering in his ear as he cast the spell. After a few minutes, he rose shakily, stowing his wand.

"Done," he said flatly.

"Thank you," said Severus.

Regulus didn't acknowledge his gratitude. "I'm going to get Madam Pomfrey."

"Good," said Severus. "I'll take Avery to Dungeon Thirteen. Meet us there when you can."

He levitated Avery's body to Dungeon Thirteen and settled down to wait. After nearly an hour, the gilded door opened as Regulus slipped inside.

"Edmund's still unconscious?" asked Regulus, looking at Avery, who was stretched out on the sofa.

Severus shrugged. "I may have Stunned him a few more times. Didn't want him to come around until you get here."

Regulus' silence held more disapproval than a retort ever would.

"Oh, don't be sanctimonious," snapped Severus. "Now was not the moment to take chances."

"His mind is addled. You might have hurt him."

"And if he'd woken up while you were still gone, and managed to hit me with the curse he used on Jenkins?" Severus shook his head. "No. Better we face him together."

Even Regulus couldn't argue with that logic. "Fine," he said shortly. "Well, I'm back now, aren't I? Let's wake him up."

Severus nodded curtly, then turned his wand on Avery's slack face. "Rennervate."

Avery's eyelids fluttered. "Sev?" he said weakly, looking between them. "Reg?"

Severus kept his wand trained on Avery's head. Regulus crouched beside Avery, his voice gentle. "What happened, Edmund? Why did you curse that poor third-year?"

Avery struggled to sit up. "Had to." He winced. "My head hurts."

Regulus gave Severus a scathing glance. Severus rolled his eyes.

Regulus turned his attention back to Avery. "What do you mean, you had to?"

"He's a Mudblood," said Avery, as though it was obvious.

Severus' body acted before his mind could catch up. He stepped forward, rage coursing through his veins. "Do not use that word in front of me." He raised his wand threateningly, and Avery shrunk into the sofa cushions.

"Severus!" hissed Regulus.

Severus ignored him. "There's no excuse for that word. And even if there were, Jenkins is a half-blood, not a Muggle-born."

"He's —" said Avery weakly. "He's as good as —"

There was a nasty hex on the tip of Severus' tongue, but Regulus did something brave for perhaps the first time in his miserable life and positioned himself between Severus and Avery. "Don't mind him, Edmund," he said in a soothing voice. "He's just angry, that's all. He won't hurt you."

After a moment, Avery nodded, still watching Severus warily.

"You lied to us," said Severus. "You nearly got us expelled. Was I not clear that we don't want any trouble this year? Were my wishes not explicit?"

Avery gulped.

"You disobeyed, Edmund. Do you know what we do to people who disobey?"

Fat tears began to roll down Avery's cheeks. "Didn't want to," he said pitifully. "Had to."

"Well, I don't want to punish you." Severus tightened his grip on his wand. "But looks like I'll have to. That's how this works, doesn't it, Edmund?"

Regulus forced his arm down. "No, Severus," he said forcefully. "Aren't you listening?"

"Aren't you? If you think I'll let him go unpunished, after what he's done — after that word he used —"

Regulus shook his head. "We're missing something. Something important." He turned to Avery, frowning. "Edmund. Help us understand."

Avery was still crying. He wiped at his eyes with both fists, like a child. "Had to. Heard a voice… a nasty voice… it made me…"

Severus' insides went cold. Impossible. Who would dare…?

Regulus turned to Severus, dumbfounded. "The Imperius Curse." He put a hand on Avery's shoulder. "Is that what happened, Edmund? Were you Imperiused?"

In between sniffles, Avery nodded.

Severus sank slowly into the armchair opposite Avery. "Who did it? Did you get a glimpse of them?" He tried to sound as softly persuasive as Regulus did.

"Dunno," said Avery miserably. "Didn't see. Was walking down the corridor when I heard it. You were there," he added, looking to Regulus.

Regulus looked startled. "I was?"

Avery nodded. "After the prefect meeting, the first one. We were on our way to dinner. I dropped my patrol schedule," he added, as though Regulus was sure to remember that detail.

"Of course," muttered Severus as the pieces clicked into place. "The attack on Owen Stickley happened just after that, didn't it? Were you behind that one, as well, Edmund?"

Avery's shoulders tightened around his ears, suddenly fearful. "Will I be in trouble?"

"No," said Severus reluctantly. "Not with us, at least."

Avery chewed on his lip. "He was the first. After I did it, the voice went away. But it came back today."

"Can you hear the voice now?" asked Regulus.

Avery shook his head.

"Well, that's good, at least," said Regulus. "Will you tell us if you hear the voice again, Edmund?"

"That's not how the Imperius Curse works, and you know it," snapped Severus.

"It's not as if you've got any better ideas," said Regulus icily, his tone devoid of the tenderness he'd been saving for Avery.

Severus sighed in frustration. This was unacceptable. Somebody in the castle was using Unforgivable Curses, and there was no telling what they'd command Avery to do next, or when they'd strike. Avery might be harmless now, but what about in ten minutes? What about overnight? He and Regulus would have to guard him — watch him like a hawk, lest he slip away to torture more half-bloods and Muggle-borns.

Regulus seemed to be thinking along similar lines. "This could happen again," he said, turning to Severus. "Isn't there a way to break the Imperius Curse?"

"There is," said Severus shortly, "but it won't help in Edmund's case."

"Well, why not? We ought to at least try —"

Severus gritted his teeth. "The only way to circumvent the Imperius Curse is for the victim to end the spell using sheer strength of will. How much strength of will has Edmund got, do you reckon?"

Regulus took a moment to digest this, but even he couldn't deny that the chances of Avery breaking the curse on his own were nil. "You're certain there's no other way?"

"If there is, wizarding Britain hasn't discovered it yet," said Severus. He rose from his chair and made to leave Dungeon Thirteen.

"Where are you going?" asked Regulus sharply.

Severus paused with his hand on the door handle. "To the library. If I'm going to invent an antidote to the Imperius Curse, I'll need to do some research."

Regulus' perfect posture sagged just a little. "Is that really our only option?"

"Unless you can think of something better," said Severus. "Watch Edmund until I return. If he starts acting funny or tries to leave, use the Full Body Bind Curse. Don't give him the benefit of the doubt." He punctuated that statement with his most threatening glare.

Regulus nodded, resigned. "We're going to have to keep an eye on him from now on, aren't we?"

"Unfortunately," said Severus. "I hope you don't need much sleep."

"Why's that?"

"Because until we figure this out, we're not going to get any." The two of them would have to guard Avery twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Severus felt exhausted already.

The next morning, Remus woke to a searing pain in his right calf. He gritted his teeth until the agony passed, then relaxed into the infirmary cot he'd spent most of the past week lying in. The full moon had been nearly seven days ago, but he'd badly mangled his tibia as the wolf. So far, mending the bone hadn't worked, and neither had regrowing it, but that didn't stop Madam Pomfrey from pouring a different variation of Skele-Gro down his throat every night.

The curtain around his cot rattled as Madam Pomfrey pulled it open. "Well?" she asked.

Remus grimaced. "It still feels… funny. Painful, too — I just had another spasm."

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips and gave his leg a stern look, as though it were misbehaving on purpose. "I'm increasing your dose of Skele-Gro," she said, then pulled his curtain shut and strode away before he could protest.

Remus made a face. He was already guzzling nearly a cauldron of the stuff every night; he doubted taking even more would help matters. Resolving to tell Madam Pomfrey about his hesitations whenever she next returned to check on him, he rolled over on the cot, hoping to at least get a few more minutes of sleep.

The curtains whisked open again.

"I don't need more Skele-Gro," said Remus without opening his eyes.

"Is that so?" said a jaunty, decidedly male voice.

Remus' eyes flew open. Sirius was grinning at him.

"Er, hi, Padfoot," he said awkwardly. He looked past the curtain, expecting to see James and Peter, but Sirius had apparently come alone. What did that mean? He hadn't been alone with Sirius since…

Since that humiliating day near the start of term, when he'd told Sirius to stop flirting with him. The mere memory made Remus want to throw the threadbare sheets over his head and hide.

"Hello yourself." Sirius perched at the end of Remus' cot. "Sleeping in, are we?"

Remus pushed himself up reluctantly. "Not much else to do, seeing as my leg refuses to behave."

"Yes, well, that's what happens when one gets shoved into the Whomping Willow," said Sirius.

"Is that what happened?" asked Remus. His memories as the wolf were always a little fuzzy. "I assumed I'd simply tried to chew my leg off. Again."

Sirius waggled a finger at him. "You were trying to get into the castle, naughty Moony. Prongs had to push you into the Willow before you'd stop."

Remus tried to sound disapproving. "You lot shouldn't let me get that close to Hogwarts. One of these days there'll be a close call, and —"

"There's already been plenty of those," said Sirius with a wink. "We just don't tell you about them."

A burning, cramp-like pain shot up Remus' leg, and he sucked in an involuntary breath. The gesture wasn't lost on Sirius; he tensed, brow furrowing with concern.

"Does it hurt?"

"Just a bit," admitted Remus. He tried to sound casual, as if the pain was a minor inconvenience instead of an agonizing ache. "So the Willow did this to me, did it? It's hard to believe that tree hasn't killed anyone yet."

"It has a special affinity for you, I think."

"Lucky me." Remus still didn't know why Sirius had come to visit him alone, but this conversation was going surprisingly well. It felt like — like things were back to normal. As if their conversation in the dormitory had never happened.

Sirius was still frowning at Remus' leg. "Has Madam Pomfrey tried adding a bit of Camphirated Spirit to your potions?"

"Er," said Remus. "I don't think so."

"Suggest it to her," said Sirius. "It's good for crushed bones."

Remus gave him a suspicious look. "Since when are you a Healer?"

Sirius shrugged. "I've been on the wrong end of the Whomping Willow enough times."

That was true enough. Sometimes Remus swore James and Sirius antagonized the tree on purpose.

"Anyway," said Sirius, "we have important business to discuss."

Remus blinked. "We do?" he said cautiously.

"Of course we do!" said Sirius, grabbing Remus' leg — not the injured one, mercifully. "It's my birthday in two days, and I haven't the foggiest idea what to do for a party!"

"Oh," said Remus, relieved. He was glad that the matter Sirius wanted to discuss was party business and not their… relationship. Friendship, he corrected himself. We're friends. That's all.

"Perhaps something in London?" he offered, as Sirius clearly expected him to contribute ideas.

Sirius scoffed. "London is boring."

"Er, alright," said Remus. "What about another theme park? We went to that place in Lancashire for your birthday last year, you seemed to enjoy that…"

"No theme parks." Sirius shook his head. "Nothing Muggle-related this year. I'm tired of their entertainment — they're so dull, Moony."

"Dull?" That didn't sound like the Sirius that Remus knew. Sirius was fascinated by Muggles.

"Terribly dull." Sirius let out an exaggerated yawn. "I'm a wizard, so I need a magical party. End of discussion."

Remus said nothing. It occurred to him that Sirius was overcompensating for the time he admitted he'd been attracted to Dorcas.

"It's alright if you like Muggle things," said Remus carefully.

"I don't, though," said Sirius. He even sounded like he believed it.

"What about Elvendork?" Remus asked, referring to Sirius' motorbike.

"Ah." Sirius thought for a moment. "Well, technically, Elvendork is magical, too, right? Muggle motorbikes don't fly, after all."

Remus could tell he wasn't going to get anywhere with Sirius being so stubborn. "Alright," he said, settling back among his pillows. "You win. Nothing Muggle-related this year — that should be easy enough to accomplish."

Sirius beamed.

After half an hour of discussion, they were no closer to figuring out where to have Sirius Black's eighteenth birthday party, but they had at least narrowed it down to twenty-four possibilities.

"What about the Isle of Man?" asked Remus. "I hear there's a colony of ogres there, could be a laugh if we stumble upon them…"

"Add it to the list," said Sirius grandly. "I bet ogres love a good birthday celebration, don't they?"

"I think I read something of the sort in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them," said Remus, and Sirius laughed.

Madam Pomfrey's heels clicked against the stone floor of the hospital wing. "Remus? Have you got company?"

Sirius jumped off the cot. "I'd better be off — didn't exactly get permission to visit." He grinned widely at Remus.

You are beautiful, Remus thought. Out loud, he said, "Come back soon, will you? I'm dying of boredom in here."

Sirius suddenly looked uncertain. "You're sure?" he asked, fidgeting a little.

"That I'm dying of boredom? Yes."

"Ha," said Sirius, without any real humour. "No, I mean — you want me to visit again?"

Sirius' expression was so hesitant that it made Remus' heart ache. He hadn't been pushing Sirius away that firmly, had he?

"Of course I want you to come back," said Remus. "You're my best mate."

Sirius looked delighted. "I'll visit tomorrow after dinner, and we'll narrow my birthday options down to fifteen. How's that sound?"

"I'm looking forward to it," said Remus.

Sirius beamed, then vanished behind the curtain.

"Sirius Black," came Madam Pomfrey's stern voice, "Remus is ill — he is not to have visitors —"

Remus smiled as she set a tray full of potions at his bedside. Things between him and Sirius were back to normal. That alone was worth ten helpings of Skele-Gro.

To Remus' surprise, a bit of Camphirated Spirit in his Skele-Gro did go a long way towards relieving the pain in his leg, so much so that by the following evening, Madam Pomfrey had discharged him from the hospital wing.

Excellent, thought Remus as he climbed the many flights of stairs that led to the Gryffindor common room. Sirius hadn't come to visit him after dinner, but he was trying not to read too much into that — perhaps by 'after dinner', he'd meant 'closer to midnight', in which case he would be pleasantly surprised to find Remus already discharged from the hospital wing.

It was difficult to worry too much, anyway, now that his tibia had been regrown and his relationship with Sirius was back to normal. Whatever had held Sirius up, it had nothing to do with Remus, so it was nothing to dwell on.

"Lupin!"

Remus turned; Professor Prewett was climbing the stairs below him, looking excited.

"I've found us a boggart," said Professor Prewett, adjusting the violet scarf around his neck as he joined Remus on the landing. "Not my first choice for practising the Patronus Charm, of course, but it'll do in a pinch. It's hiding in a clock in Professor Vablatsky's office — he's given me permission to take care of it. I don't suppose you have a free moment, now, do you?"

"I…" Remus hesitated. His tibia might have been in one piece, but his joints were as bad as ever, and the Divination professor's office was all the way at the top of the North Tower. Besides, failing to cast a Patronus didn't sound like a pleasant way to spend his first free evening after being stuck in the hospital wing for a week.

Professor Prewett must have sensed Remus' apprehension, because his smile faded a little. "Of course, if another time would work better for you…"

Remus pulled himself together. Professor Prewett was going above and beyond to help him; it would be wrong to reject the offer just because he was tired. "Now is fine," he said, trying to sound chipper. "You caught me by surprise, that's all."

On their way to the North Tower, Professor Prewett took each flight of stairs slower than the last, which Remus begrudgingly appreciated, as he didn't have to struggle to keep pace. Finally, they reached Professor Vablatsky's office, which was up a small staircase from the Divination classroom. The Divination professor apparently wasn't above a few creature comforts: empty sweets wrappers littered the desk, and there was a row of Firewhiskey along one shelf that rivalled Slughorn's collection.

In the corner of the office was a handsome grandfather clock, which Remus supposed was the boggart's hiding place. The clock's face was inscribed with symbols instead of numerals, and as Remus drew closer, he realized that each symbol depicted an omen. He forced himself not to look at the Jinx, which was in the top centre of the clock, where the number twelve would have been.

Though the grandfather clock had been silent when Remus approached it, it began to rattle threateningly as Professor Prewett stepped forward.

"Right," said Professor Prewett, not put off in the slightest. "You've dealt with boggarts before, I believe, Lupin?"

Remus nodded. "We practised repelling one during our fourth year, sir."

"Excellent," said Professor Prewett. "You'll have an easier time keeping your wits about you, then. Focus on the Patronus Charm, even if the boggart frightens you — I'll step in if things go awry, so no need to fret."

Remus nodded and drew his wand. Privately, he didn't see how practising on a boggart would help him learn the Patronus charm; his boggart took the form of the moon, which would hardly be threatened by a Patronus.

He pointed his wand at the grandfather clock, about to open its bevelled glass door, but Professor Prewett stepped in front of him. "I forgot to mention," he said. "You'll be dealing with my boggart."

Remus blinked. "Yours, sir?"

Professor Prewett nodded. "My boggart happens to take the form of a Dark creature. You remember why this is important, I presume?"

Remus thought back to their recent Defense lessons. "The Patronus Charm is effective against most Dark creatures — although the extent depends on the creature in question. Dementors and Lethifolds are most affected by it, and Hinkypunks barely pay it any mind, if I remember correctly." It drives away werewolves, too, he thought silently.

"Good," said Professor Prewett approvingly. "Five points to Gryffindor — you're off to a great start."

Remus couldn't help but suspect that Professor Prewett was trying to bolster him with encouragement before he faced the boggart.

"Shall we?" asked Professor Prewett, raising his wand. Remus nodded. "Remember, I'll step in if things get hairy. If you're ready, then…"

He waved his wand, and the door of the grandfather clock flew open. From behind the shadows of the pendulum, another Professor Prewett stepped into the room.

At first glance, this boggart seemed to be identical to the Defense professor, though as it drew closer to Remus, its differences became apparent. The boggart was much thinner, nearly skeletal, and though Professor Prewett was already quite pale, the boggart's skin was as white as bone. But it walked with Professor Prewett's easy grace, and even the cheerful expression on its sunken face was familiar.

Remus' eyes flickered towards the real Professor Prewett, who was standing off to the side, his smile somewhat forced. Why was Professor Prewett's boggart… himself?

"Hello, Remus," said the boggart. It was mere feet from him now. "Why don't you put that wand away, and we can have a chat, you and I?"

"No, thanks," said Remus. He tightened his grip on his wand.

"Come, now," said the boggart-Prewett pleasantly. "There's so much I could teach you. After all, we're so much alike, you and I…"

Its skeletal fingers reached towards the violet scarf around its neck and loosened it just enough to reveal an ugly, raised scar. The wound looked like something had bitten a chunk out of its neck.

Remus' heart pounded in terror, yet he stood rooted to the spot. It couldn't be. Boggarts lie, he thought. Professor Prewett couldn't be a werewolf like him.

As if it could read his thoughts, the boggart smiled. Its teeth were pointed, glistening with saliva.

"You and I have tasted blood," it whispered. "We crave it… you when the moon is high, and I… I long for it more each day…"

The boggart reached for him with clawed hands. Remus stumbled away, scrambling to think of a happy memory. Sirius visiting him in the hospital wing. His white-toothed, careless grin.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Silver mist erupted from the tip of his wand, forcing the boggart backwards. The mist dissipated after mere seconds, but it was enough — the boggart staggered and nearly fell into the belly of the grandfather clock.

Remus' heartbeat hammered in his ears, drowning out all other noise, but he didn't lower his wand. Suddenly, the boggart righted itself with inhuman speed, and with a frustrated hiss, it flung itself at Remus —

The real Professor Prewett stepped between them. "Riddikulus."

The boggart's body swelled, as though rapidly gaining weight; its limbs grew bloated and sausage-like, and the colour of its skin shifted from deathly white to ruddy red. It's filling with blood, Remus realized, feeling queasy. The boggart's body continued to inflate, like a grotesque balloon animal, until finally it burst, showering them with steaming, scarlet droplets of blood. The remnants of the vanquished boggart sped into the grandfather clock, and the bevelled glass door slammed shut behind it.

The blood vanished with a wave of Professor Prewett's wand. "That was well done, Lupin," he said conversationally. "A bit more practise, and you'll have the hang of it in no time."

Remus wasn't so sure about that. Besides, weren't they going to talk about how Professor Prewett's boggart had been… Professor Prewett himself? "Erm, Professor?"

"Yes?"

"What did your boggart mean, sir? When it said we were alike?"

Professor Prewett's smile didn't waver, but there was a sadness in his bright blue eyes. "That was interesting, wasn't it? I was hoping the boggart would be a tad more subtle than that, but they're horrible secret keepers, alas." He waved his wand, conjuring a pair of cushions out of nowhere. He settled cross-legged on one and gestured for Remus to sit on the other. "Might as well get comfortable — the conversation is a long one."

As Remus took a seat on the cushion opposite Professor Prewett, he found himself glancing at the scarf around the professor's neck. Did he have the same terrible scar as his boggart?

Professor Prewett caught him looking. "Ah," he said. "Wondering about the scar?"

Remus flushed. "No, I… I apologize. It isn't any of my business." He thought of his own scar, which marred his right shoulder, and he had to will himself not to touch it.

"No need to apologize," said Professor Prewett. "Sadly, Lupin, the answer is yes — I've got the scar. The boggart took a few, ah, artistic liberties with its portrayal of me, but that was unfortunately not one of them."

"He wasn't a very nice person, your boggart," said Remus.

"No," agreed Professor Prewett, "he wasn't."

Remus shifted his weight on the cushion. He was too polite to ask the questions he really wanted to, such as: Are you a werewolf? Is that why the boggart said we were alike? He wished he were more like Sirius; Sirius would have come right out and said it, regardless of the consequences.

"Professor?" he asked. "Why does your boggart look like you?"

"Excellent question," said Professor Prewett. "What do you think?"

Remus found he knew the answer instinctively. "You're afraid of yourself because you think you're dangerous."

"Well reasoned," said Professor Prewett. "Although I do not merely believe that I am dangerous, Lupin: I know it for a fact. It's this caution that grounds me — it keeps both myself and those around me safe."

Remus could relate. Too much. "Professor," he said, his throat dry, "you said your boggart takes the form of a Dark creature."

"I did indeed."

"But your boggart looks like you. So does that mean… are you…"

Remus trailed off. He couldn't say it. Not out loud.

Professor Prewett seemed to understand. He nodded, and there was no smile on his face now. "Would you like to hear the story?"

Remus had never been so curious. He needed to know what had happened, the same way he needed to feel the moonlight on his fur when he was the wolf. The same way he needed to hunt. "If it isn't too much trouble, sir."

Professor Prewett began his tale. "About a year ago, my brother, Gideon, and I went on a tour of Europe. We visited the lost library of Agrippa in Hamburg, saw the Florentine Diamond in the Louvre… truly an unforgettable experience. After travelling for a time, we ended up in a forest in Albania. We didn't know it then, but there was a coven of vampires living in those woods."

Remus' palms grew clammy. Vampires.

"It was by accident that we stumbled upon them," continued Professor Prewett. "We tried to talk our way out of it, but… things went south rather quickly. Luckily, Gideon and I were able to fight them off — but not before I was bitten."

Remus didn't know what to say. The story brought back uncomfortable memories: visions of a dark night and a feral, long-fingered man flashed through his mind. The man had climbed through his window and grabbed him, and then there had been pain, so much pain…

"I'm sorry, Professor," said Remus at last. He tried to put the weight of everything he could not talk about into those words.

"I am, too," said Professor Prewett. "In many ways, I am still coming to terms with… my new existence. But I am glad to be alive — or rather, not entirely dead."

Remus still couldn't believe that he was speaking to a vampire. Professor Prewett seemed so… normal. The pictures of vampires that Remus had seen in textbooks didn't look nearly as healthy as Professor Prewett did. Aside from his pale skin and the scar concealed under that violet scarf, there was nothing out of the ordinary about the professor's appearance.

"You look surprised," said Professor Prewett.

"A bit," admitted Remus. "I suppose I should know better than to judge by appearances. It's just that you seem so… well…"

"Human?" said Professor Prewett with a knowing smile.

Remus nodded. An unpleasant tidbit from one of their Defense textbooks crossed his mind. "Sir? Don't vampires need to drink, erm, blood to survive?"

Professor Prewett grimaced. "Unfortunately. Nasty stuff — I can't say I've acquired much of a taste for it. But I shouldn't complain: my brother, Gideon, is very generous, and donates his blood to me regularly." A corner of his mouth turned upward. "That's probably the other reason why I look rather healthier than the average vampire. Most don't have a steady supply of blood they can rely on, do they?"

Remus had never thought about it. "I suppose not." He was still processing the fact that the man sitting across from him had just admitted to drinking blood regularly. Remus had always been ashamed of that aspect of the wolf — that ravenous hunger for human flesh, so strong he'd even gnaw at his own limbs. Could he learn to be more like Professor Prewett? Was it possible to accept that part of himself without feeling disgusted?

"Just so you know, Professor, I won't tell anyone," said Remus, because he felt that needed to be said.

"That's very kind of you, Lupin," said Professor Prewett. "The staff at Hogwarts already know, of course, but I think that many of the students would have a difficult time accepting a vampire as their Defence professor." He rose from his cushion and gestured at the grandfather clock. "Want to have another go at the boggart?"

"Maybe another time," said Remus. He felt like he needed to take the rest of the night off to sort out the thoughts that were whirling around his head.

Professor Prewett seemed to understand. "Lots on your mind, eh? I don't blame you for wanting a rest."

They left the divination professor's office. When they had reached the base of the North Tower, Professor Prewett turned to Remus and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good progress today, Lupin! Whenever you feel like taking another whack at the boggart, you know where to find me." And he descended the staircase that led to the ground floor, tightening the scarf around his neck.

Remus' newly-healed leg ached, sore from traipsing all over the castle. He wished the Gryffindor tower weren't on the seventh floor. But it was, and there was no changing that, so for the second time that day, he began the long, slow climb up the stairs to the common room.

Maybe I'll tell Sirius about Professor Prewett, he thought as he climbed, using the handrail to take some of the weight off his leg. It would be interesting to note Sirius' reaction. And Remus needed to confide in someone about what he had learned. Sirius was a natural choice, now that they were back to being… friends. Close, platonic friends, and nothing more.

The other Marauders weren't in the Gryffindor common room when he arrived, but that wasn't wholly unusual; they'd been spending more and more time in the Heads' dormitory, lately.

He climbed the staircase to the boys' dormitories and noticed that the door to the seventh year dormitory was slightly ajar. He peered inside; Sirius was sitting on the edge of his bed, alone, his back to the door.

Remus tapped his knuckles against the door so as not to scare him. "Pads," he said, "you won't believe what just happened. I ran into Professor Prewett after being discharged from the hospital wing and…" He trailed off. Sirius hadn't so much as acknowledged him. "Pads?"

When Sirius spoke, his voice was hoarse. "Hey, Moony."

Remus stepped closer. Sirius' head was bowed, and his hair fell across his face, obscuring his expression. In his hands was a letter. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," rasped Sirius, in a voice that made it clear everything was not alright. "It's just… I got a letter from Dorcas."

Remus tamped down the ugly flare of jealousy that roared to life at her name. "What does it say?"

Sirius looked up; his eyes were glassy and red. "She wrote to tell me about… about Uncle Alphard."

There was a horrible, sinking feeling in Remus' chest. "What about Uncle Alphard, Sirius?" he said gently, though he feared he already knew.

"It's just — Uncle Alphard, he." Sirius cleared his throat, then tried again. "He's… gone, Moony. He died."