Remus was in and out of consciousness for the next two days, and he only woke to eat, ramble a bit, and complain about how awful he felt. The fact that his friends had visited was a carefully avoided subject: at first, it was because such topics came secondary to the pain; but as he recovered, it was because asking meant that it was a problem. His parents hadn't mentioned it at all, so maybe—just maybe—it hadn't really been an issue. Perhaps it really had been a simple midnight visit that had effectively squashed all of Remus' friends' suspicions about his mother.

His father had said he thought Remus' friends suspected. But perhaps he'd been wrong—it wouldn't have been the first time. Either way, asking about it was sure to make Remus' parents worry, so Remus didn't ask.

The Lupins were balancing the tightrope of living in an unusual, tragic family, and Remus saw no reason to make it harder on his parents. Remus was recovering, he was about to go back to Hogwarts, and everyone was happy. Why ruin a good thing with a misplaced question? He would find out exactly how much his friends knew very soon, so there was no reason to risk upsetting his parents.

Thursday arrived: the day before Remus left for Hogwarts. He was practically bouncing off the walls when he woke up that morning, even though his head still hurt a bit from the transformation. He bounded downstairs, grabbed some cereal, and made his father some coffee—which was rare, because Remus couldn't stand the smell of coffee (even though his father liked it on rare occasions). But Remus found that it was all right if he held his nose the entire time and breathed through his mouth (he could still taste the coffee in the air, though—yeah, no. Remus was never doing this again).

"Mum! Dad! Breakfast!" he called as he forked some scrambled eggs onto a few plates, and Remus' parents made their way downstairs cautiously.

Remus' father rubbed his eyes blearily. "You made us breakfast?"

"Yeah. What does it look like, supper?"

"That's... kind of you." Dazed and drowsy, Remus' mum yawned. "May I ask why?"

"Last day of holidays," Remus replied brightly. "I'm leaving tomorrow, remember? I was thinking maybe we could take a walk today. Just to the village down the hill? I'm feeling well enough, honest I am, and I want to do something fun while I'm still here."

There was a long moment of silence, and Remus watched his parents exchange worried glances. They were now fully awake.

"About that..." said Remus' father. "We really should have mentioned it earlier."

"Mentioned... what?" Oh, no. A hollow shiver ran up Remus' spine—his father was using his Something-Is-Terribly-Wrong Voice, and Remus hated that voice.

"We think that..." Remus' father sighed and ran a hand through his hair in a very James-esque way. "Well, we think that maybe you should... stay home... this year. And maybe... next year. And the year after. Just... you know. Forever."

"What?!"

Remus stepped away from the table, breakfast forgotten. His hands were hanging limply by his sides—no Hogwarts? Did his friends know? What was he missing?—and as he contemplated this, his mother took his hands in her own, threaded her fingers through his, and regarded him with pleading eyes. "Remus, love," she said. "We adore how healthy you're looking. We love that you have friends. It's great that you're experiencing being independent. And your father and I didn't want to make the decision—that's why we held off on telling you for so long. But we've talked about it a lot, and we decided last night..."

Oh, that was not okay. "It's the day before King's Cross! You're right; you shouldn't have just sprung this information on me after I've been looking forward to it all summer!"

"Yes, we know." Remus' father looked guilty, and Remus, for once, didn't care. Merlin's beard. He should feel guilty. "But after the werewolf attack in Peebleton this summer—and how badly that werewolf was treated—Martin Doves, remember?—he was executed, Remus. And he didn't even hurt anyone. It was horrific."

"We only want what's best," said Remus' mother. "We want to protect you. I couldn't stand it if something were to happen..."

"Nothing's going to happen," said Remus hotly. "Professor Dumbledore, Mum. Remember reading Hogwarts, a History? He's more than capable of protecting me."

"Yes, but... your friends, Remus. They're close to finding out. And when they do... well, good people are sometimes hostile towards people like you, honey. Anything could happen."

Remus' heart skipped a beat. "Last full moon," he whispered. "They... found out, didn't they? There's more you didn't tell me."

"Well, you never explained your part, either," said Remus' father. "And I thought you didn't want to talk about it. Talking about it makes it more real, doesn't it?"

No, thought Remus, even though he'd had that exact same thought only moments earlier. Well, not that exact same thought: the truth was, Remus wasn't avoiding the topic because of himself. He'd been avoiding it because of his parents. He always avoided sensitive topics because of them—after all, Remus loved talking things over. At Hogwarts, he'd headed straight for Professor Questus' classroom whenever something awful happened and talked, and that had made all the difference. But when he was at home, he avoided talking about things because talking made them feel more real to his parents... no, it wasn't about Remus at all.

But he didn't say any of that. There was a more pressing matter at hand: Remus had to find out what his friends knew. "What happened?" he asked, removing his hands from his mother's and hiding them behind his back.

"I think you should start," said Remus' mum, leading him to the couch. "There are things you didn't tell us, dear, and there's been far too much speculation between Dad and me."

"It wasn't much. They... I mean, Professor Questus and I..." Remus sighed. He didn't want to say anything to convince them that he should indeed stay home, but maybe it was best to stay home if... no. Remus couldn't think like that. He had to go to Hogwarts. "My friends noticed the pattern. Of my disappearances. And I kept saying I was going home to visit my ill mother... so they decided that my mother was a werewolf, I was going home to keep her under control, she didn't hurt me because I was an Animagus... they came to a lot of conclusions, but they were all the wrong ones. And I refused to let them believe that you were a werewolf, Mum."

"And why did you mention Questus?" grilled Remus' father. "Does he have something to do with all this?"

"Well... James followed me once. He was invisible, so I wasn't supposed to know he was there... and I was going to the Hospital Wing early that day because... you know, I wasn't feeling well. But I couldn't do that with James following me... and I knew he was there, because, well, I could hear him and stuff. So I went to Professor Questus' room instead, and then I told him very loudly that I was about to go visit my mum and I needed to use his fireplace."

"And he understood and played along?"

"Yes. We spent the next few minutes... basically confirming all my lies to James, who was listening. James stopped mentioning it after that. I thought he believed me."

"Well," said Remus' father, "he didn't, apparently. He came here, saw Mum at the door, and said, 'You're not a werewolf!' Then he asked to see you..."

"What did you say?" said Remus, looking at his mum.

"Your father woke up," she said. "Came downstairs—told them that you were sleeping and that he wasn't about to wake you up."

Remus remembered how bad of a liar his father was and groaned. "Is that it?"

"Yes. They went home."

"Then what's the problem?! They still don't know what I am, Mum. I can stay at Hogwarts a little longer."

Remus' father collapsed into a chair and covered his face with both hands, digging his nails into his forehead. When he resurfaced, he looked to be in physical pain. "They're close to finding out!" he said, agonized. "They're close, and we can't risk it. They're on the right track. And do you know what will happen when they finally do find out?"

Remus nodded, but his father paid him no mind.

"I don't want to scare you, but you have to understand, Remus. Your friends will try to hurt you. They will accuse you of putting children in danger. They will complain to the Ministry that you tried to kill them, or something strange like that. Orion Black will take his son's side. You will have a trial. You will be condemned. You will die. Do you understand?"

"Of course I understand! Obviously, I understand!"

But Remus' father didn't stop there. "And that's not all. Even if you aren't killed, news of your condition will get out. Orion Black might be magically sworn to secrecy, but your friends certainly aren't. Magically swearing children to secrecy is illegal. The wizarding world will hate you. You'll make the newspaper—probably even the front page. Everyone will know, and you'll never get a job."

"I know that!" Remus also happened to know that that Orion Black had not, in fact, been magically sworn to secrecy... but his father didn't have to know that. It certainly wouldn't help Remus' case.

"And... even if that doesn't happen—which is unlikely!—you'll be forced to leave Hogwarts, at the very least. And even in the rare case that your friends will keep it to themselves for the rest of their lives, you'll have a tough time finding an employer who sees that you dropped out of Hogwarts after only one year!"

"Like what I'm doing now?"

"No. Right now, we are switching to homeschooling. To 'better suit your talents'. Far less suspicious than dropping out mid-year, and perfectly plausible given your exemplary marks. Questus might even agree to help tutor you."

"We can't ask him to do that!"

"No, but it looks much better on paper when we live next to a former Hogwarts teacher, doesn't it?"

"Dad...!"

"And, furthermore..." Remus' father gave him a shaky smile. "Your mother and I have decided that, seeing as you've proven that you can handle being on your own, we're going to take you more places... travel a bit... go down the village more often. In fact, we were thinking that, if you're comfortable staying home alone, then Mum could get a job. Part-time, of course, but it should cover some expenses. We might be able to afford some potions so that you can heal more quickly." Remus' father swallowed thickly. "Obviously, we need a change. Just... not Hogwarts."

"Dad, I..."

"It's not your fault. It's just too obvious, given your disappearances. But we can take more risks, if that's what you want. We only want you to be happy and safe. You know, you could spend some time practicing and getting really good at a musical instrument. Muggle concerts are sporadic, so if you're good enough, that job wouldn't be suspicious at all. We sold the piano, but we could..."

"No!" Remus had been standing in the kitchen the whole time, watching the horribly unfair scene unfold before him with he scrambled to the other side of the room—away from his parents—and leaned against the refrigerator to calm down.

In through his nose, out through his mouth. In through his nose, out through his mouth. In through his...

"What's wrong, Remus?" asked Remus' mother, and Remus almost laughed. Wasn't it obvious?

"I... everything's wrong! I'm invited to the best wizarding school in the world, the teachers are nice to me, I've done all my summer homework, I have friends, I have free medical care, I have a safe place to transform, I can take classes, I can do homework, I'm top of the form... this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I just... can't take it? Because some of my friends used to think that my mother's a werewolf?"

Remus' mum was twiddling with her hair nervously. "Honey, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And you did take it. But maybe it was always meant to be a year-long experience. Good things have to end, and refusing to accept it only makes it hurt worse, dear..."

"It's the responsible thing to do, Remus," said his father. "Perhaps we shouldn't have sent you to begin with, if you can't accept that it's over with."

That felt like a low blow, especially considering how enthusiastic his parents had been about Hogwarts over the past year. Remus' mother had gone on many a rant about his improved health, and Remus' father had been excited to share his childhood experiences with his son... what had gone wrong? "That's not fair," said Remus. "And it's not just Hogwarts I'm upset about. It's not just because I know what it's like, now, to be like other people my age. It's something I thought about a lot, before..."

Remus' mother frowned. "Elaborate, love?"

"I can't live like this!" Remus cried. Oh, his parents were definitely going to think that he was depressed now. But honestly, Remus didn't care anymore. "I just can't... I can't live like this for the rest of my life. Dad... you've got Uncle Bryson, and your coworkers. And Mum's got Madam Pomfrey. But I don't have anyone, and I need to talk to people sometimes, or else I'm going to go completely mad all the time, not just once a month..."

Remus' mother looked horrible stricken and surprised, and Remus decided that now was not the time for werewolf jokes. Granted, around his parents, it was never the time for werewolf jokes.

"You have Questus," Remus' father pointed out. "You two seem to get on well."

"Yeah," Remus said dryly. "Professor Questus, my former teacher, who's almost four and a half times older than I am. That's a pretty sad substitute for friends my age, Dad."

"Well, no one ever said being a werewolf was easy!" Remus' father said; Remus looked at his father sharply, who didn't often outright use the word werewolf to describe his son. A metaphorical storm was brewing. "It's awful, Remus, I know it is," he continued, now more gently, "but that's just the way it is. And there's nothing any of us can do about it."

Remus stared at the wall determinedly—he didn't quite have the courage to look his father in the eye—and then he said, "Well, you could send me to Hogwarts and let me see for myself how much longer I can keep my friends! I'm a good liar, Dad. I am. Maybe I can stretch it another year. And the more time I spend away from all of this, the better!"

There was a crashing noise, and Remus tore his gaze from the wall and looked at his father. He'd gotten up from the kitchen chair so suddenly that the chair had knocked against the wall, and now Remus' father was standing in front of the table. "From all of what, exactly?" he asked, arms crossed and eyebrows narrowed. That didn't look good, but Remus wasn't deterred.

"From all of this!" Remus said. "From napping every afternoon—I hate napping; did you know?—and reading for hours a day. From pacing alone in my room. From talking to you... I love you, but there's nothing to talk about anymore! And I hate being bored. And from... from spending multiple days on the couch, trying to heal without any potions or advanced magic. With Madam Pomfrey, I only need one day after the full moon, and another because she's overprotective, and then I'm feeling just as well as I am on the new moon. I'm not feeling nearly as well now as I was two days after a particularly bad moon when I was at Hogwarts. And, even if I were, there'd be nothing to do! There's nothing worth healing quickly for! Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, Remus, of course," soothed Remus' mother. She was ever the peacemaker, but it infuriated Remus at the moment. He did not want to be soothed. "And we're sorry. We're so sorry. But it's either leave now and be safe, or leave later and risk everything."

"And shouldn't it be my choice?" demanded Remus. "Maybe I don't care! Maybe I'd rather risk it all! Maybe I'd rather do... do literally anything!... than stay here for the rest of my life! I'm done!"

When Remus' father spoke, his voice was low, dangerous, and completely agonized. "We were under the impression, Remus, that you understood what you had to do when the time came. I know it's hard, but this is for your safety."

"Yeah, safety," Remus scoffed. "Did Romeo and Juliet care about safety? I don't think so."

"They died!" said Remus' mum. "They literally killed themselves!"

"Well," said Remus shortly, "seeing as I'm a Gryffindor, I'll risk dying, thank you very much. That's what James and Sirius and Peter would do."

"Seeing as they're not werewolves," said Remus' father, matching Remus' tone, "you should be listening to your parents, instead."

"Seeing as you're not werewolves, either, I rather think I should be making my own decisions."

"Seeing as you're twelve."

"Seeing as I'm a werewolf!"

"Seeing as you're a child!"

"Seeing as," said Remus, raising his voice to talk over his father, "I know exactly what pain is, far more than you do, and I know what I can handle... I'd like to go to Hogwarts."

Remus' father cut in before Remus even finished speaking. "Do you understand how much your mother and I go through?" he hissed. "Do you comprehend the fact that it hurts to watch you suffer? We almost lost you about seven and a half years ago, and it was the most painful thing we'd ever experienced—and it was my fault, and I swore I'd never let harm come to you again—" Remus' father's voice broke momentarily, but then he coughed and it repaired itself—granted, it sounded like it was being held together with duct tape. "Do you know what it would do to us if you were executed by the Ministry? Like some sort of animal? We will not let that happen, even if you're reckless enough to allow it."

"So it's all selfish, then?" said Remus. "You're keeping me away from everybody my age for your own selfish reasons?" He'd never argued with his parents before—never, not like this. But he was angry. He didn't like being angry, but he also didn't like napping and porridge—so it was, Remus thought, a worthy investment.

"Our reasons for keeping you home are only as selfish as your reasons for going," retorted Remus' father in a low voice.

Remus and his father stared at each other—even a human could hear a pin drop. For one terrifying, horrifying second, Remus genuinely wanted to hurt his father. Didn't he know that Remus had been terrified of being selfish, ever since he'd arrive at Hogwarts? Didn't he know that Remus had constantly apologized to everyone for being an inconvenience—even to the point that Madam Pomfrey had forbidden apologies in the Hospital Wing? Didn't he know that he had just confirmed Remus' worst fear?

Yes, he did, because Remus had been writing letters to him all of last year, and he was certain that he'd mentioned his fears a few times (even though he'd known that his family didn't like talking about werewolves). Remus' father definitely knew. He had probably said it because he knew, and that hurt most of all.

Remus' mum stood up too, now, and Remus expected her to take her husband's side. But instead, she put her hand on Remus' shoulder and kissed his forehead. "We're sorry, dear. I'm sorry. Your father's sorry, too, even if he won't admit it right now. No one's being selfish. We're just making the best of a complicated situation. Why don't we talk about it more when everyone's calmed down a bit, yeah?"

Remus pushed his mother away from him, the horrible anger twisting through his stomach like the snakes on the banners at the end-of-the-year feast. But these snakes didn't have magicked-on moustaches, courtesy of James, Sirius, and Peter—no, these snakes were fanged, scary, and not funny at all. "Don't touch me," said Remus, horrified at the prospect of accidentally hurting her. He backed against a wall and breathed.

In through his nose... out through his mouth...

His mum took a few steps backwards and sighed. "Shhh, honey, slow breaths."

"Oh, don't tell me what to do as if you know what it's like. Just..." Remus breathed a little more vehemently. "I... I'm going to Professor Questus'."

He swept past his mother, being careful not to touch her, and closed the front door behind him. He didn't slam it; he wasn't that undignified... but it did make a very satisfying crashing noise when he... gently... closed it.

"Professor. Professor. Professor."

"Door's open. And don't call me Professor."

Remus opened the door and entered as quickly as possible, closing it behind him. He breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed his eyes. "Good morning, Professor. I didn't wake you, did I...? Oh, you're bleeding again!"

"And you're calling me Professor again," grumped Questus, who was sitting on the armchair with three blankets and two and a half cups of tea. "Both equally unpleasant. Now, why on earth are you here? I thought we'd agreed that last Friday was our last visit before you left for school. You could have at least let me know before you were coming so that I could get cleaned up."

"I'm so sorry," said Remus, seeing how pale and feverish Professor Questus was today. There were bruises all up and down his hand, and his eyes were bloodshot. "I needed... to get out of the house."

"And you couldn't sit by your friend Nolan the Grindylow?"

Remus giggled, but he felt awful. "I really should have owled you or something. I can leave now, if you want."

Professor Questus sighed. "No, it's all right. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but goodness knows I fought with my parents plenty when I was a little older than you. Can't imagine having to live with them twenty-four-seven with no escape—at least I was allowed to go off on my own. Sit down somewhere."

"How do you know...?"

"That you had a row with your parents? This is the angriest I've ever seen you, and your parents are the only people you ever see." Questus smiled at Remus, apparently very proud of himself for guessing correctly. "You can make some tea if you want. Pomfrey brought far too much last time she was here. That's why I have three cups."

Remus smiled a little. "Thank you." He walked to the kitchen and made a cup of tea—oddly enough, it felt more natural to make a cup of tea in Questus' kitchen now than even his own. The familiar act of making tea was cathartic, and he was already feeling better when he sat back down and took a sip. "I'm really sorry, Professor."

"You should be sorry," said Questus. "I've asked you multiple times to stop calling me Professor, and here you are doing it again. So... what happened to force the ever-patient Remus Lupin out of his own house?"

"Ever-patient," Remus scoffed. "I am a werewolf." It felt nice to be able to say the word freely. Remus could never do that around his parents—well, he had today, but that had been a mistake.

"Makes you even more patient, seeing as you have more trouble than anyone else being so. What happened? If you're going to come into my house at nine in the morning, I want to know why."

"Well, my parents..." said Remus, and then he trailed off. He felt tears threaten to fall and internally rebuked them. "We were arguing, and things got... heated. And then I was worried that I was going to hurt someone, so I left."

Questus grinned. "Can't decide whether to be flattered or offended that you weren't worried about hurting me."

"It's because you're an Auror."

"Not anymore. And I'm not exactly fit for fending off a werewolf right now."

"Well, neither am I," said Remus. "That's why I came here. Now it's a group effort." He took a sip of tea. "Tell me that I'm being stupid or something."

"First you have to tell me what you were arguing about."

Remus sighed. "They don't want me to go back to Hogwarts."

"What?!" Questus slammed down his cup in surprise. "That's what you were arguing about? Why is that even an argument? They've seen how much better you are for it; I know they have. Honestly." He raked his hands through his hair. "I thought they were brighter than that. Idiots. Why on earth would I tell you that you're being stupid for wanting to go to school? What do they expect you to do, just sit around at home for the rest of your life when you could be working towards your future, receiving care from Pomfrey herself, and spending time around your friends... who do they think you are? Their prisoner?"

Remus felt the snake in his stomach twist around and snap its jaws. "Professor," said Remus. "You're not helping."

"Right," said Professor Questus, still looking angry. "Right. Of course I'm not. You know what, Lupin, maybe your anger toward them is warranted. The fact that anyone would do that to a child makes me sick."

"They have reasons," said Remus, though he didn't know why he was defending his parents. He wanted to go to Hogwarts. He wanted to see his friends. Indeed, he wanted his parents to be wrong with all his heart, yet here he was defending them. "On the last full moon... James came over. And Peter, and Sirius. They still thought Mum was a werewolf and I guess they wanted to be sure. So now that they're on the right track—and especially since my dad's such a bad liar and they're probably suspicious—my parents think it's better to play it safe. But... I still want to take the risk."

"Obviously," said Questus. "Typical Gryffindor."

"That's what I told them!"

"Some risks are worth taking. And really. Sometimes I wonder if it would just be better for word of your lycanthropy to get out."

"What? No, it wouldn't."

"I don't know. It might be better than having to hide for the rest of your life—at least then you could make friends. Not everybody is going to hate you for being a werewolf. A large portion of people, yes, but not everyone."

"I would never get a job."

''You're right. You probably wouldn't. That's the tricky part. But, let's face it, it's going to be difficult anyway for you to have any semblance of a normal life. But, yeah, it's all just speculation. The more I think about it, the more I agree that you would be far worse off if word got out..."

Questus trailed off, annoyingly contemplating something that wasn't even on topic. Remus tried to prod him back to the original Very Big Problem. "But... you still think I should go to Hogwarts, right? Next year? I'm not the only one who thinks it's a bad idea to stay home and play it safe? You think I should go?"

"Absolutely. Staying home would be stupid. If you're anything like me, being cooped in like this is literal torture."

Remus, who had experience with literal torture, said, "Not literal torture, Professor. I'd prefer this to actual torture."

"Not physical torture, but still literal—much like the fact that you're still calling me Professor. This is awful. I'd rather be doing anything than sitting around, bored out of my skull."

"I wouldn't. Typically, I'm thankful for every second that's not a full moon. I'm just finding it... difficult, at the moment."

"I should say so. This isn't fair—the lot of it." Questus leaned back and picked up his tea again. "Look at us. I'm a former Auror with more training and experience and sense than anyone else in the Department. And you're top of your form—not to mention the most mature child in your year and quite possibly the whole school. And here we are, stuck at home because of two stupid curses. Do you see the sick irony here?"

"Irony?" said Remus.

"Yes, irony. You actually like learning. You like school. You like going to class and doing homework and writing essays, you oddball. You have a good sense of humor, you like to socialize, and you're dead decent at magic. And now they're saying you can't go." Questus waved a hand in the air. He looked a bit mad, Remus thought. "And here I am—most stubborn and prideful person in the Department—and I have to get a twelve-year-old werewolf to keep me company. And the school matron to make sure I'm not dead. And I can barely walk. It's humiliating."

"Not to mention you have no idea what it is," said Remus, vaguely seeing where he was going with all this. "And you always were very curious about certain Dark curses."

"Exactly! What kind of cruel irony is this?"

"Cruel irony," said Remus. He liked the words. "You know, that's what Romeo and Juliet was about..."

"Oh, gag me," said Questus, now chuckling. "You should write to me about that new professor, you know. When you've got time."

"Can't," said Remus dully. "I'm not going to Hogwarts, remember?"

"Yes, you are. I don't care if I have to write Dumbledore to come and convince your parents. Don't care if I have to do it myself. You're going to Hogwarts. I might be stuck in this awful, middle-of-nowhere place, but I'm also not twelve. You're going to keep taking the risk until the risk takes you. Anything could happen. And Dumbledore is a capable man—he can even erase your friends' memories, if need be."

"Oh," said Remus. "No, I'd never allow that..."

"Then he'll convince them not to say anything. If he convinced me and Craff, then he can convince anyone."

"Were you thinking about telling people about me, then? In the beginning?"

"Indubitably," said Questus, taking another sip of tea. "You know how I am about withholding important information from people." He trailed off suddenly and made a face. "Sorry. Curse and all that. Pain. Give me a second."

Remus waited patiently.

"Anyway. Withholding information from people. Keeping secrets. I don't like it, and I thought your classmates deserved to know. But Dumbledore reminded me that there's a stigma; I said that if you can't deal with the stigma, you can't deal with Hogwarts..."

"Oh?"

"My mind has since changed. Obviously you needed practice. Don't know what I was thinking. And then Dumbledore asked me if I was planning on telling all of Hogwarts my own secrets... oh, don't look at me like that. Of course I have secrets. Everyone does. I told him no; because it wasn't relevant... and then he asked me why I thought being a werewolf was any more relevant. Argument continued for a while, but he was right, of course. He's the only one I'll never win an argument against."

"Oh."

"Yeah. It really isn't much of a risk at all, going to Hogwarts. Dumbledore is keeping you safe. You'll be fine."

"Thank you."

"And furthermore, I think you have every right to be angry at the world. Feel free to stop by and shout at me whenever you want."

Remus grinned. "Maybe I do have the right, but that's just more cruel irony. I can't. Gets too hard to stop once I've started. But I might come over and shout at you anyway."

"I have never heard you shout, Lupin, and I doubt I ever shall. So what do you think—"

Professor Questus was cut off by a sharp knock at the door. Remus groaned. "That's..."

"Your parents? Good. I think we need to have a chat."

Remus thought so, too, but that didn't make it any easier.

AN: Writing-wise, I think this is one of my best chapters ever. Content-wise, it makes my heart hurt.