Dear Professor Questus,
Everything's going really well. TOO well, actually—it feels like something's going to go wrong at any minute.
My friends are no longer pressing me for information. I suppose that "sternly-worded" letter you wrote James must have worked, because James told me that my background doesn't have anything to do with who I am and that he's going to stop looking for answers. A nice sentiment, but I'm not sure how long it'll last. Sirius and James are both being really weird around me, but now they're treating me a lot more nicely than they used to. They're tiny things, really, but it's nice.
It's probably because of the fight earlier. Sirius and Peter were having a bad day, some things happened, and it ended with me hiding in the Transfiguration classroom with Bufo and Professor McGonagall. I'm guessing my friends feel bad now, because they're practically falling over themselves to help me out.
It makes me feel a little weird, to be honest. I kind of wish that things could just be like they were a few months ago... but there's no use complaining when they actually seem to enjoy my presence. I'm thankful, I really am—it's just WEIRD.
James is going insane about Quidditch tryouts, I think. He's always got this book on him—he wrote "Quidditch Strategies" on the cover. I don't know how much strategy is in Quidditch. Seems to me like they just throw balls around. But to each his own, I suppose.
Pensley is still giving loads of homework, but now Sirius and James actually do theirs and help Peter and me out a bit. That's weird, too, but I'm not complaining. It keeps them out of trouble. They've stopped hexing students in the corridors, too.
Talking of Defense Against the Dark Arts, what can you tell me about hags? The textbook doesn't say much on the topic—only that they're considered Beings and like to eat children—so I'd like some further explanation from an actually competent teacher. I don't really understand why something that eats children is considered a Being. I don't eat children, and I'm not technically a Being (didn't mean to sound bitter; just making observations). So are hags like vampires, who have controllable impulses? Or like dragons, whose only morals are "every-creature-for-itself"?
I went to Dumbledore the other day and told him that I wanted to quit meditation with Pensley, but then he started talking about how much she loves children, and how isolated she feels from the other teachers, and how teaching gives her a purpose, and how she only wants to help, and how I should let her get closer to me because I need more friends, and how we have a lot in common... and all that. I don't know what he's playing at. Does he just like to watch me suffer? It's horrible. I don't think I can spend another three hours in that classroom two days before the full moon. I'll KILL someone.
Professor Dumbledore also says to ask you how your houseplant is doing. I think he's afraid you've killed it.
—R.J. Lupin
Lupin—
In my experience, things don't usually go well, and tragedy often chooses to strike in the happiest of times. When things seem to be going smoothly, then you need to pay closer attention. I suspect that your friends are trying to keep an eye on you, because there's no way Potter stopped being curious after my letter. Do you really think he read it and thought, "Oh, yes, that makes perfect sense. There's definitely something fishy going on, but I'll just elect to ignore it forever." Do you really think a simple sternly-worded letter changed his mental makeup? Do you really think he forgot how to be James Potter? If you do, you're an idiot, because Potter's not that type of kid. It was a good letter, but it wasn't THAT good. Chances are, they're trying to butter you up so that you'll tell them (which you won't, obviously). Tread with caution.
As for Quidditch strategy. Quidditch has quite a bit of strategy, from what I can tell—nearly as much as duelling, and the strategy that we discussed in your lessons only scratches the surface. But I don't understand the outcome of Quidditch in general. What's the best that can come from it? Winning a shiny trophy? Glory? I don't like to lose, but I don't waste hours competing unless I'm getting something besides bragging rights. Flitwick used to pester me to go out for a national duelling title, but that seems pointless to me. Titles are useless. I much prefer doing something I'm good at when it saves lives, thank you very much. That was why I liked being an Auror. I like to be useful.
I suppose I'm finished being useful for now, which is a mildly depressing thought. It's all right, though. At least I can still do what I do best: annoy people. Your parents claim that they are starting to tire of my constant unsympathetic comments, I believe. They secretly enjoy them, though; I know they do.
Anyway. I'm very sorry about Pensley, and Dumbledore shouldn't be guilting you like that. I suspect he has an ulterior motive—he usually does. The best you can do for now is trust him. I hate to say it, but he usually knows what he's doing. He probably has a million-point plan stretching years and years into the future, and it is likely a very, very good plan. Just wait it out.
I'm happy you've noticed the unfortunate lack of Dark-creature-related information in your textbook. Sometimes the textbook will have plenty of information, but be completely devoid of first-hand accounts. No one seems to think about the actual creatures themselves; they only care about how to survive an attack. You know how much I think that people need all the details, although I wouldn't have cared about creatures' "feelings" about a year and a half ago, I admit. Witches and wizards don't typically consider such things, but I can understand why you would.
From what I can understand: hags are capable of human speech, but have low intelligence compared to humans (and werewolves). They're similar to trolls in the sense that they hardly have any magic, most of them have no qualms about killing, and they are most certainly, not even debatably, inhuman. That said, they are indeed like vampires in the sense that they can control their impulses. The Ministry won't arrest them for existing; they'll only arrest a hag if she has been proven to have killed someone. There are quite a few in Borgin and Burkes every so often, since they like dark spaces and Dark magic—you've probably seen one or two around, but you mightn't know. There's really no way to tell if a witch is actually a hag unless she takes off her shoe (hags only have four toes), and accusing a witch of being a hag is something of a social taboo. Besides, since hags are often quite unintelligent, the Ministry doesn't see them as much of a threat.
I wonder if you'd be able to identify a hag based on the scent, though. Let me know if you ever discover the answer to that question, because I'm terribly curious.
Yes, hags sometimes kill children—and it's tragic when they do. But, at the same time, it's very rare that parents will let their children around hags. Hags, unlike werewolves, are frail, stupid, and incapable of breaking into a house, so they don't pose any real danger if one is very careful. A woman named Nutcombe started an organization to help hags be more "human" in 1713, but there's a reason that she had "nut" in her name. She was utterly nutty, and it didn't work one bit. The fact of the matter is, hags don't possess enough intelligence to WANT to be a part of wizarding society. And they definitely don't have enough magical talent or intelligence to go to Hogwarts in their youth.
But they have Being status, yes. They can speak, understand many things, walk on two legs, and are not irredeemably violent. They are held in higher regard than werewolves because werewolves are far more dangerous. The fact of the matter is, Lupin (and the moral of this story in the long run): even though you haven't done anything even slightly morally questionable, the Ministry will only ever see you in your most dangerous state. I'm not saying it's right, but it's true. The first thought that comes to mind when someone thinks "werewolf" is a wolf, not a person. I doubt you'll get pure Being status anytime soon, because your full-moon form is the only thing taken into consideration when classifying these things.
My houseplant is not dead yet (unlike your reputation with the Ministry), and I think that Dumbledore knows it. He's very obviously charmed it with something to give it water and sunlight—which is prudent, because I haven't watered it once. Can't be bothered. Werewolf the Cat is also doing well, though your parents aren't enjoying the amount of cat hair on their furniture. I do hope you're not allergic, because Werewolf seems to like your house nearly as much as mine.
Again: tread with caution. And don't call me Professor.
—J. Questus
"Remus," said James, waving an annoying hand in front of Remus' face. "Did you get another letter from John?"
Remus folded up the letter hastily and prayed that James hadn't seen anything incriminating. "Yeah. He didn't say much. Mostly talked about his cat—did you know he got one? And also hags."
"What about hags?" said Peter, his mouth full of food.
"I asked if they had human emotions and things. He told me—and I'm paraphrasing—that they had hag-like emotions, not human-like emotions."
"Huh," said Sirius. "But other creatures that are classified as Beasts have human abilities and emotions, too." There was a slight thwap as James hit Sirius, and another as Sirius hit James back. "Like Centaurs and Merpeople," Sirius continued.
"They were offered Being status," said Remus. "They refused. Didn't want to be lumped together with hags and vampires."
"What about werewolves?" said Sirius, and there was a louder thwap as James hit him again. Sirius paid no mind. "You know, since they can do human things when it's not a full moon?"
"Werewolves are a sensitive subject for Remus, remember?" said James.
"They're not! Not really," said Remus desperately. He couldn't allow them to think that. "I was being dramatic. They're... werewolves are complete monsters on the full moon, and there's some debate as to whether they're really... you know, people... all the other times of the month. So they're not Beings nor Beasts right now. The Ministry can't decide. I think. My dad talks about it sometimes. And... yeah, that's all there is to it. I barely know anything about werewolves, to be honest."
"Oh," said Sirius sagely. "Pass the bacon, please."
Remus exhaled and passed the bacon.
The Marauders were lounging in the dormitory together one evening. Peter and Remus were doing homework for Pensley, but James and Sirius had given up a while ago: currently, James was hanging upside-down off of Sirius' shoulders, who was hoisting him by the legs and dragging him all around the dormitory. James laughed as his head bumped against the floor mercilessly.
"Heyyy," James said, and his voice went up and down as his head did the same. "We should do that suit of armor prank. Like, tonight."
"You're not thinking straight," said Remus patiently. "Your brains are scrambled."
"No! I am! They're not! I'm serious! We should do it!"
"Remind me what the prank was?" said Peter.
"You know, the one we planned last summer! Where we dress up the suits of armor in the corridors like the teachers!" James gesticulated wildly, which looked absolutely ridiculous from his upside-down position. "We've been too busy with... revelations... and things to properly cause mischief this year. We're the Marauders! We need a little mischief right now, eh?"
"What revelations?" said Remus.
There was silence.
"A little mischief," James repeated. "Come on, who wants to help me plan?"
No one wanted to, but they all did anyway. James attributed it to his irresistible charms. Peter attributed it to James' intellect. Sirius attributed it to a secret Imperius curse. Remus attributed it to James' persistent annoying demeanor.
But, no matter the cause, the Marauders had a forty-two-point plan in place by seven o'clock and were ready to execute it.
The suit-of-armor-statue prank, James had decided, wasn't nearly enough. "It's not big enough," he complained, so they added more: after they'd charmed a row of statues to look similar to the teachers, James used a very, very complicated spell to make said statues say things that the teachers would say. "It's like the one that they use on portraits," James explained. "Takes into account a person's reactions to others and guesses what they'd say to certain things."
They'd been sneaking around the corridors for hours at that point, but James still didn't think that it was enough... so he started making a suit of armor that looked like Snape. "Look, Sirius, I made Snivellus," he chortled.
"Is there a grease-dumping spell?" said Sirius. "His hair is too clean."
"Engorgio," said James, pointing his wand at Snape's nose. It grew to twice its size, and James and Sirius were practically rolling on the floor with laughter.
"I don't think that we should be making students," said Remus quietly. "It feels more... targeted."
To Remus' great surprise, James immediately Vanished the entire statue. "Sorry."
Remus blinked.
What?
"You've never listened to me like that," Remus said in awe. "What's going on?"
"Maybe we just want to be better friends," said James, shrugging.
Sirius spoke again. "Yeah, and we know." Pause. "That you don't like us teasing Snivellus. Snape, I mean."
"Huh," said Remus. "That's very kind of you."
"Yep!" James affirmed. "We've got some time left before Remus and Peter collapse from exhaustion. Let's go to the Forbidden Forest for a bit!"
Four Marauders crept down the corridor in the dead of night.
They weren't wearing the Invisibility Cloak—the corridors were empty enough that they did not need it. Suddenly, a bone-chilling howl rang out. It was quiet, but it cut through the air. It was wolfish, but not wolfish enough to give Remus the urge to howl back—but it scared him all the same. He froze, and then it happened again. Remus jumped and grabbed onto Peter. Where was it coming from? Who was doing it? Even Remus' heightened senses weren't helping—there was no scent nor sounds of heartbeats in the air! What was it?
Oh, he was dreaming. It was a dream. A nightmare. It would all be over soon. Had he really fallen asleep in the corridors? That was embarrassing.
"All right, mate?" said James, a concerned look on his face.
Remus nodded, but realized too late that he had nodded side-to-side.
Suddenly, a dark-colored blur flew down the corridor, sweeping past Remus with a massive fwoooosh. Remus let out a small squeak and clutched Peter's arm even harder—he knew, now, that it could not possibly be a dream. No, this was real. "What was that?" he said, and his voice was much higher than he would've liked it to be. He still couldn't smell anything, and he hated it—as much as he disliked his werewolf senses, he was used to knowing what was going on...
"Calm down, Remus," said Sirius. "It's just Peeves."
Peeves.
Remus tensed. He had seen poltergeists before—his father was an expert on Spirituous Beings. They'd had one flying around their house for two days when his father was studying it, but it had been too disruptive to keep it around any longer than that. Disruptive was bad; disruptive was dangerous; disruptive was unpredictable... would Peeves keep Remus' secret? Peeves obviously knew about Remus' lycanthropy if he was howling like that. He was making fun of Remus. Yeah, he knew. He had to.
Peeves stopped whirling around like a howling cyclone, and Remus looked at Peeves more closely; the poltergeist in question was fat, garishly dressed, and had a disturbing toothy smile on its face. No wonder Remus hadn't caught any sort of scent—Peeves was a spirit, just like the Hogwarts ghosts. Still, Remus thought that it was quite disconcerting to rely solely on his senses of sight and hearing. How did humans do this all the time?
Peeves howled again, more quietly this time. It wasn't particularly obvious that he was imitating a wolf (his annoying howls just sounded like random chaotic noises to the untrained ear), but Remus knew what he was trying to do. He hoped that Peeves was sworn to secrecy. He prayed that his friends wouldn't figure it out, because Remus would just die if they did, maybe literally if the Ministry or a miffed parent got ahold of him...
Peeves grinned wider at him and howled a third time. Remus felt his face go bright red, and he stepped behind Peter a little.
"Shut up, Peeves," said James scornfully.
Peeves made a little howling noise again, and this time it had just the right cadence for Remus to feel that horrible, animalistic urge to howl back. He flinched. This was humiliating.
"Stop doing that, Peeves!" said Sirius.
Peeves grinned wider and let out a whoop as he did a flip. "Who've you got with you this time, Potty?"
"This is my friend Remus Lupin," James explained emotionlessly, as if he'd entertained Peeves countless times before and was quite bored of it. Remus wondered just how many times his friends had snuck out without him, and he immediately felt very left-out. "He doesn't like loud noises."
Remus winced at the lycanthropy reference. Wrong thing to say. "Ooh, doesn't he?" Peeves mocked. The edges of his smile extended past his face, which creeped Remus out a little. "Like an itty-bitty dog afraid of thunder, hm?" Peeves snapped his fingers, and a crack of thunder echoed down the corridor. Even though it hadn't been very loud, Remus nearly jumped out of his skin. Peter was patting Remus' back a little reassuringly, but it didn't help.
Sirius and James looked absolutely livid, even though they couldn't have caught the subtext behind the "dog" joke. "You're a git, Peeves," said Sirius. "And you're going to get us caught!"
"Aw, his face is all serious," said Peeves. "Serious Sirius. What makes you think I don't want you to get caught?" He turned his face to the corridor and cupped his hands around his mouth. "STUDENTS OUT OF..."
Remus thought fast. He remembered the Poltergeist they'd kept at home—has father had managed to keep it under control, to a point (sort of). What had he done?
He'd kept the poltergeist under control by playing its own game... by annoying it as it had annoyed them. Poltergeists hated being beaten at their own game. But what spell annoyed a poltergeist? How could Remus tease Peeves with his own tricks? Was there a... werewolf-related trick he could play? What about...?
Remus wasn't sure if it would work, but it was the only thing he could come up with at present. "Docaudam!" he cried, pointing his wand at Peeves. He'd used this hex on his trunk the summer before last, and it was a lot easier to do it on an actual item than to trigger an item to perform it later on.
Suddenly, a long, furry tail sprouted from Peeves' behind. Peeves shrieked and stopped mid-sentence. He whirled around, gave Remus (whose wand was still outstretched) a furious look, and then flew away in the blink of an eye.
The corridor was silent once again, and Remus exhaled.
"Woah!" said Sirius. "That was brilliant! Where'd you learn that?"
"We had a poltergeist at our house once," said Remus, shrugging. He was trying to act nonchalant, but it was very difficult after his friends had seen him panicking and clinging to Peter. "It was only around for two days—Mum made Dad get rid of it because it was horribly annoying—but I learned a few tricks. You have to beat it at its own game. If you annoy it worse than it can annoy you, it'll leave you alone. I just gave Peeves a... well, a tail like a dog, because of his comment. Ergo, I annoyed him back, and won. Poltergeists generally don't like to lose, so he's probably sulking somewhere. Perhaps I should have used Silencio... but that was the only thing I could think of."
"That's so cool," said James. He shook his head in wonder and then started to look a little guilty. "I'm sorry Peeves treated you like that. I should have seen that coming. We should have worn the Cloak."
"What?" said Remus. "How could you possibly have seen that coming?"
"No, I should have seen it coming," said Sirius, "because I know."
"Know... what?"
"That you're all small and pitiful and fragile. Of course he'd come after you."
Remus gave a cry of anger and punched Sirius' arm. "I am not fragile! I just don't like loud noises."
"Doesn't mean you're a dog or anything, though," James mumbled. "What Peeves said wasn't nice at all."
"That was nothing! There are worse things than being called a dog! He hardly did anything. I was just caught off-guard."
"Yeah," said Peter helpfully. "Dogs are kinda cute. I like dogs. I wouldn't mind if Remus was a dog."
"Shut up, Pettigrew," said Sirius with far more force than usual. "Just shut up. Remus is just like the rest of us. Most of the time."
Remus froze. "What do you mean?"
Sirius paused, evidently thinking hard. "Well," he started, "sometimes, he's just all around better than us. Good marks. Does his homework. Responsible."
"Responsible," mused Remus. He was thoroughly relieved that Sirius didn't seem to know anything. "Yet here I am, sneaking to the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night. Come on, let's go already. It might rain soon, and I don't want to get caught in it."
"Fragile," Sirius teased.
"Remus isn't fragile," said James.
There was dead silence.
"Who are you and what have you done with James Potter?" said Remus. "The old James Potter would have never passed up an opportunity to tease me about my supposed fragility."
"Well, that's the last time I ever try to be nice," said James, grinning. "But really. I tease you, but you're not fragile, mate. You're not used to people, you have a lot going on... at home and stuff, I mean... but you're still perfectly normal and nice to everybody. You're a good person. Most wouldn't be, if they were as stressed as you are. I don't mean to get all sappy on you, but..."
Remus wanted to tease James for being sappy, but he found that he couldn't really speak. His throat had more or less closed up. James thought he was normal and nice. James thought he was a good person. James liked him. And James Potter was always right, wasn't he? Remus had been trying so hard to keep his secret, and it had paid off. James saw something good in him, and he saw something good without knowing the full story. This wasn't out of pity. It wasn't like Remus' parents telling him that he was good and kind and just like humans... it wasn't even like Professor Questus, who told the truth but was still biased... no, James was a normal human who genuinely couldn't tell the difference between a werewolf and the rest of his friends.
Remus hit James a little, not trusting himself to speak, and James hit Remus back (a little lightly, like he was afraid that Remus would break, but Remus was ultimately okay with that).
That night, as Remus ran around in the Forbidden Forest with his friends, he was perfectly happy. For a full minute and a half, he completely forgot that he was a werewolf.
That was another record!
Dear Professor Questus,
I definitely wasn't out in the corridors with my friends last night after hours. I definitely wasn't sneaking out to the Forbidden Forest. I definitely didn't help them decorate and charm the suits of armor. I didn't break any rules last night whatsoever.
But if I HAD, then I would have possibly encountered Peeves. And poltergeists are clever, so maybe he would have imitated a wolf's howl in a way that wasn't obvious to my friends, but was very obvious to me. And perhaps he would have made a subtle werewolf joke, which would have led me to believe that he knew about me.
So... does he? And is he sworn to secrecy?
—R. J. Lupin
P.S. Remind me to tell you exactly what I did to Peeves (well, what I would have done if I had encountered him) next full moon when I have time to write about it in detail.
Lupin—
Yes, he knows. The ghosts tend to listen in on staff meetings, so all of them have been briefed just in case. It's safer that everyone at high risk of finding out knows. That way, everyone understands that it's a secret, that it must not be told or implied, and that Dumbledore trusts you and supports your attending. Otherwise, a ghost or staff member may spread the information upon finding out rather than going directly to Dumbledore (which is what your friends may do if they find out, so tread carefully).
I don't, however, trust Peeves. You said that it wasn't obvious that he was mocking your lycanthropy, but I think that's wishful thinking more than rational analysis. I would even go so far as to suggest that you keep your distance from him and stop sneaking out of the castle (I wouldn't be making this suggestion if it weren't for Peeves, by the way. Goodness knows I snuck out plenty as a kid, and I've served countless hours in detention because of it).
Peeves seems to be afraid of you, at least a little, since he didn't come find you at all in your first year. And that's a good thing, Lupin. I know you don't like being feared, but sometimes it can be a very good thing indeed. Feel free to use that to your advantage whenever possible.
Please be careful. You need to stay at that school as long as possible. I cannot stress the importance of keeping your friends, keeping your education, and keeping your mental sanity for the maximum amount of time. You don't want to end up like me, do you? I'm incredibly bored, and I'm sure you don't want to waste away at home like I'm currently doing.
Your mother is still tacking all the letters you send her to the wall, and they've started to spill all the way into the kitchen. Don't be surprised when you come back (whenever that may be). And fair warning: the cat ripped a hole in one of the pillows. Fortunately, your mother turned the pillow upside-down—it's like it was never there.
There's nothing to do around here but feed the cat, read the Prophet, take naps, and tease your parents... so please write again soon.
I hate asking favors from a twelve-year-old.
—J. Questus (not Professor)
AN: I have a daily calendar on my desk that I haven't changed since August 23, 2021. It's strategical, though: if I flip it enough to catch up, I won't have another one for 2022, and it's quite a nice calendar.