James crossed his arms and leaned back in the armchair that he was sharing with Sirius (there wasn't much room, but they were both small enough to fit semi-comfortably). "We ask Remus things," James said. "We ask Remus things about werewolves whenever we're confused. We don't need this. So you can just call him back in, because he answers plenty of questions and I don't see any reason to do something that makes us all uncomfortable."

John just looked amused, which annoyed James to no end. James wasn't being funny. James Potter was terribly funny, of course, but only when he was trying to be. "You may not need it, but I do," said John, quirking an eyebrow. Oh, that was so annoying. Remus did that all the time, and it looked so cool. James didn't understand why some people could raise one eyebrow flawlessly and others couldn't. He, Sirius, and Peter sometimes practiced in the mirror when Remus was gone, but none of them had managed to it properly without looking like they were going to cry, vomit, or sneeze (none of which being the looks that James was looking for, unfortunately).

"You need it? Why?" demanded Sirius.

"Well, this is sort of a big deal," said John. "I must say: I never expected things to turn out like this. The wizarding community, especially the Pureblood wizarding community, isn't fond of werewolves. There's a violent history—on both sides—involving Pureblood wizards and werewolves. I wasn't exaggerating earlier when I said that Lupin's life is literally in your hands. I just want to know that you understand, to the best of your ability, and that you don't have some... ulterior motive."

"We're twelve," said Peter.

"And thirteen," said Sirius.

"Yeah, twelve and thirteen," said Peter. "We don't have ulterior motives. I don't even know how to spell that."

"I just don't understand why being Remus' friend is such a big deal," said Sirius, and James knew Sirius well enough to know that he was on the verge of a temper tantrum. "He's just ill, that's all. Right?"

John held up a finger. "Wrong. He is not ill. 'Being ill' is a good analogy, to a point, but the fact is that your friend is very different from you, both physically and mentally."

Well, that was the stupidest thing that James had ever heard. "We're all different both physically and mentally. I think that's the point."

"The point of what?" asked John.

"I dunno... life."

"Hmm." John took a sip of tea—James noticed that his hands were shaking a bit. And he was so pale. "Actually, that's what I've been trying to tell your friend Lupin for months. I like you three."

"Who doesn't?" said James, going for a cheeky grin.

"Being a former Hogwarts professor... nearly every teacher in the school. But I digress. You seem like good friends, and you've more sense than half the wizarding world combined. Then again, you are very young, so I'm not sure how much you really understand."

"He's answered all my questions," said James. "I ask a lot of questions, and he answers them all, mostly, so I understand a lot."

"Mostly, you say?"

"Well, we don't know how he was bitten. Or who bit him. I've been wondering, but I don't want to ask—I don't even know if he knows or not. But that doesn't really matter at all, does it?"

"Oh, yeah, I don't know that, either," said John with a wave of his hand. "I should say it doesn't matter. What has he told you about the transformations themselves?"

"They hurt," said James. "He said that they hurt. And that they leave him injured, and that he remembers everything that happened afterwards."

John chuckled, which made James feel like a baby. He wasn't trying to be funny, so why did John keep laughing at him?! "That's it?" John asked, seeing James' infuriated face but making no effort to stop smiling.

"Why, is there more?"

"No, that about sums it up. But those are mild words for a process that is anything but mild—I think that at your age, though, you can't really understand the extent."

"Just because we're young doesn't mean we're stupid," said Sirius, crossing his arms.

"I'm not saying you're stupid. You certainly can be at times, but there's most certainly intelligence in this room... and only ninety percent of it is my own." James started sputtering a bit, but John talked over him. "I was joking, Potter. Anyway, I think it's more about experience than age or intelligence, actually. And I was surprised myself, even with my experience with Dark curses. How long did you wait after the full moon to visit him?"

"Er," said Peter. "We didn't. Visit him, I mean. Not last month."

John blinked. "But you did the month before?"

"No. He told us not to."

"He... told you... not to."

There was a long silence, and then John covered his face with his hands and groaned. "That idiot. That complete idiot," he said, voice slightly muffled. "How could anyone be so... so stupid and delusional? Ugh. Why do I even bother?"

"Did you just ask him to leave so that you could insult him?" said James, affronted. "That's not very nice."

"Rich coming from a boy who hexes other students behind their backs for fun," said John, and James bristled. "Don't worry. I've said it to his face before. He's just... so stupid. Why...? Probably some daft noble reason. He really asked you not to visit him?"

"Ordered us, more like," said Sirius. "We wanted to. He said something about it being private."

"He thrives off of company; the both of us do. I don't understand why... well, I do understand. I just don't like it. That boy is his own worst enemy. And you actually respected his wishes? You don't seem like the type."

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Peter.

"I don't mean it in a bad way. Lupin's wrong, and I thought that you would recognize that he's wrong and refuse to comply. Typical Gryffindors."

"We would have," said James, which was the truth. He liked being called a "typical Gryffindor". He was, wasn't he? He was the absolute epitome of Gryffindor House. "But Albus Percival Wulfric Brian made us promise."

"Still doing the name thing?" said John. "Funny, isn't it? Lupin does the absolute opposite. I don't know how many times I've asked him to stop calling me Professor. Anyway... really? Dumbledore made you promise not to visit him?"

"Yeah. And we didn't want to scare Remus off again, so we decided to... you know, respect his wishes."

"Humor his delusions, more like," snorted John. "What were Dumbledore's exact words?"

James looked at Sirius, who always did the best imitations. Sirius straightened up and deepened his voice. "I need all of you to give me your word. You will avoid seeing him until he makes it very clear that he wants to see you."

"Those were his exact words?" clarified John.

"Yes," said James, who was always very good at memorizing exact words. "Except he said 'all three of you,' not 'all of you'."

"Hm. It's dubious, but technically, Lupin's already made it clear that he wants to see you—in fact, it's exactly what he did when he left the Hospital Wing the first time, is it not? Dumbledore never said that 'wanting to see you' could be revoked. Technically, you have full and unintentional permission from Dumbledore to visit him."

A smile slowly spread across Sirius' face, and James knew that his own face was almost certainly mirroring Sirius' perfectly. Perhaps John wasn't so bad after all. "Full permission," James mused. "I don't usually need permission, but that's definitely encouraging."

"Now, I don't know how you three manage to get into such secluded places in the middle of the night," said John, "and I don't want to know. Well, I do want to know, but I know you won't tell me. But if you can get into Pomfrey's office without being seen..."

"We can," said James confidently.

Peter frowned. "But what about... won't Remus be angry with us?"

"Angry?" chuckled John. "Have you met the kid? Angry isn't ever the right word to describe him. Miffed, perhaps. Annoyed. Frustrated. But not angry."

"He seemed pretty serious. He'll hate us."

"He can't afford to hate you. Hasn't got anyone else, has he?"

"He can like us less and stop trusting us without hating us," said Peter, worrying the hem of his Muggle shirt.

John cocked his head. "That's true. You're clever. Most twelve-year-olds think in black and white—Black and Potter do, at least."

"We don't," said Sirius. "And I'm not twelve."

"Yes, you do. And close enough. Look, Pettigrew, he's not going to get angry or like you any less. I don't suggest going against his wishes because I want you to disrespect his boundaries on a daily basis; I suggest it because I've spent quite a bit of time with him and occasionally know him better than he knows himself, the self-pitying prat. The thing about Lupin is that he has false senses of responsibility. He thinks he needs to protect you, which is complete rubbish—it's mostly subconscious, I think, but it's still there. He wants company, but he thinks he's imposing too much if he does anything other than refusing himself the luxury. His behavior is insanely self-destructive, so he needs people to knock some sense into him... and staying out of everybody's way because he thinks he has some sort of plague is not the way to go about things. So no, he won't be angry if you visit him. He'll act angry, but he'll mostly be relieved that he can have company on the full moons."

"Are you sure?" said Peter.

"Positive." John took a sip of his tea, considering something. "You know," he said, "I didn't like him at first. Lupin, I mean. Thought he was whiny and weak. I wasn't entirely wrong, but I've since learned the importance of context..."

"What?"

John waved his hand. "Not everyone thinks like I do, apparently," he said. "Anyway, I ended up visiting him in the Hospital Wing his first month here—catching him up on the lesson that he'd missed. It was going to be a one-time thing... Dumbledore told me to do it; I didn't even want to... but I ended up doing it every single month during his first year. Every month! And it wasn't because I wanted to. it was because I realized about halfway through my first visit that he actually wanted me there—which doesn't seem like a big deal, but I happened to know that he hated me at the time."

"He did?"

"Yeah. I said some things to him on his first day here—which were true, but apparently not 'tactful', in the words of Dumbledore." John made air quotes around the offending word and grimaced. "I'd say them all over again to him now. They weren't really offensive at all. But perhaps not in the exact same context... seeing as he was absolutely terrified of me at the time.

"Anyway. I was only required by Dumbledore to go apologize on that first day—which I did so unwillingly—but I ended up staying and catching him up on the lesson. He hated me—I cannot stress that enough. Most everyone hates me, so it's not surprising. But here's the surprising part: he wanted me there nonetheless, because lycanthropy is, first and foremost, an isolating condition. He's been alone all his life, and it's made him believe that he has to be."

James didn't really get it. "So you're saying that..."

"I'm saying that he goes through a horrific transformation every single month—far worse than you could ever imagine—and then has to be completely alone afterwards. Such a dehumanizing condition requires company: to remind oneself of one's personhood, to stop intrusive thoughts and overwhelming memories, and to combat depression, which is unfortunately a very real risk when one is a werewolf.

"But it has to be kept a secret, so precious few people can help, and none of the teachers apparently care enough to make sure he's all right. Half of them are scared to death of him. Do you see the cruel irony here? Pomfrey does her best, but there's only so much that one very busy matron can do; one person is not enough company for someone like Lupin, who stews in his own misery recreationally."

James frowned. "Yeah, I can see that."

"Visiting will help, I promise," continued Questus. "But, yes... he does have an extraordinary amount of pride and won't appreciate being seen like that... so if he seems annoyed at all, just tell him that I told you to come visit. He'll take it from me. He knows I'm always right."

"Okay, we'll do that," said Peter, sounding relieved at the offer. James wondered how Peter could be worried about something so silly as his reputation at a time like this.

"Is it really that bad?" James said, leaping off of the armchair. Sirius grunted as James' elbow dug into his knee. James paid no mind. "The transformations... and the time afterwards... and the loneliness?"

"Well, he can handle it," said John (why did he always look amused when James said anything important?). "But yes, it's really that bad. Worse. He can handle what many highly-trained Aurors couldn't. I imagine he's underplayed it a little bit?"

"He said it hurt; he didn't say it was torture," grumbled James.

"Well, I have seen worse. But the sheer frequency with which it occurs... not to mention the mental ramifications of being inhuman paired with the fact that he was so young when they started... it means that he needs some support, that's all. But I don't want you to be misinformed, and that's why I made him leave. The fact that he's still mentally sound is no less than a miracle." John snorted again. "Although I suppose the phrase 'mentally sound' is subjective. He's an idiot sometimes, as I've already made clear."

James, however, was paying John no mind; he was too busy thinking of the possibilities. "When should we go and visit him, then?" he asked eagerly. "Directly after? Whenever we're not in school? Should we wake up early and find him at four am the next morning? What do we need to know? Is there anything we can do?"

John was still smiling at him, and James fumed. He wasn't trying to be funny! "He was right," said John. "You are dedicated. Two days after the full moon sounds best this month. Maybe before breakfast or in the afternoon. But I do need to emphasize something very important. Are you listening?"

"Yes, of course!"

"You are his friend, Potter. Not his caretaker. He has his parents and Pomfrey to fuss over him, and he most definitely does not need anyone else treating him like something that could break at any minute. He's very tired of it. You're all twelve, and you're all friends—on equal footing. Got it?"

"Got it," said James sullenly.

"I'm not twelve," said Sirius.

John rolled his eyes. "I'm not worried about you babying him, Black."

"Fair enough."

John smiled. "So... yes, I suppose that's all you need to know. Any questions? I guarantee I know nearly everything."

"No," said Sirius. "It really doesn't matter to us. We just want to help. We don't really care."

"Great." John waved his wand, presumably removing the Soundproofing Charm. Before James even had time to register the thought, Remus practically flew into the room.

"Hi," Remus said, slightly out of breath. "Thank goodness. Those were the most stressful minutes of my life, I think. What's the update, Professor?"

"Not yet," said John. "And don't call me Professor. Here, have some tea."

"No, thank you. I'm a little... whew. I'm a little nauseous. I don't know why I was so nervous. It's not like they were going to hate me... or anything..." He turned to James, Peter, and Sirius. "You... you don't, right?"

"'Course not," said Peter before James even had time to open his mouth. "It wasn't even that interesting. You'd told us everything already."

James was a little surprised in spite of himself at Peter's natural ability to lie. Well, maybe Peter really hadn't found it interesting, actually—that boy was sometimes dumber than a Flobberworm. But James, at least, had found it very interesting indeed (though it most certainly wasn't going to change his perceptions of Remus). In fact, James sort of wanted to know more. "Hey, Remus," he said thoughtfully. "I want some book recommendations."

"Alice in Wonderland," said Remus almost immediately.

"No... what's that? I meant, like... you know, books on..."

"Werewolves," said Remus, sighing. "Yeah, I know what you meant; I was just trying to change the subject or something. To tell you the truth, there aren't any accurate books on werewolves. Either they try too hard to be kind or they try too hard to... highlight the darker aspects of the situation. I mean, there are some accurate ones that are strictly scientific, but... yeah, you don't want those."

"I do! I do want those. Anything accurate."

John peered at Remus, apparently intrigued. "No good books on werewolves? Really?"

"Well, did you find any in the Hogwarts library? My father has quite the collection—went out and bought a truckload when I was... young—and the only thing I really know is from sneaking into his office and reading while my mum was napping." Remus grinned. "I've read quite a bit, but I imagine you've read more about the topic than I have."

"Probably," agreed John. "No, I haven't found anything, but I thought perhaps you had. I do have one thing, though, if you'll... ah, I don't feel up to standing right now. Lupin, second drawer down."

Remus opened the drawer and started rummaging through it. "What am I looking for, Professor?"

"A dead body. I'm joking. You're looking for a book, obviously. By Apollo Mannaro. Ignore the cat food; I store it in that drawer."

Remus grinned and pulled out a tin of tuna. "Does your cat really eat this? It smells so fake."

"Best put that back or it'll think it's getting fed..." warned John, but it was too late—the cat hopped off of John's lap, waltzed directly over to Remus, and started rubbing against his left leg and purring.

Remus laughed. "Oops, sorry. I didn't know he would do that. Stay there, cat. You're not getting fed. And keep those claws to yourself this time." He pulled out the book and stared at it. "Er, I know this book, Professor... it's definitely not accurate."

"Yes, it is."

"I'm fairly certain that this is the one that claims that all werewolves' fur is colored brown."

"Isn't it?"

"No."

"How do you know?"

Remus did the thing where he raised one eyebrow, which made James extremely jealous again. He really wished that he could do that. It just looked sarcastic on Remus, but it would probably look irresistibly attractive on James. "What's the most famous werewolf you can think of?" said Remus.

"Fenrir Greyback... ah."

"There you have it."

"Huh. Well, I already knew that, anyway—seen a few around, and they're definitely not all the same color. I was just wondering how you knew. Anyway, the book is completely accurate now. I've fixed it."

Remus opened the book and started flipping through it; James could make out scribbles inked onto the pages. He watched Remus' face carefully, but it betrayed no emotion. "How long have you been working on this?" asked Remus.

John shrugged. "Past few months. I've been bored, and writing things down helps me clear my head."

Remus flipped to a new page, and his mouth suddenly fell open. "Forty-five? That can't be right, Professor."

"Don't call me Professor. And it might not be. I only guessed—there's no real way to measure it. What would you have guessed?"

"I dunno... four?"

John snorted. "It's not four."

"What's not four?" asked Sirius.

"Werewolf sense of smell," said John. "Forty-five times better than that of a typical human."

"It's not forty-five," argued Remus. "It's four. At the most."

"Lupin, forty-five is a very low estimate."

Remus ignored him and continued to flip through the book. "That's not right. Werewolves don't... oh. Yeah. Never mind, you're right." He made a face and flipped another page. Then he started to laugh. "Please tell me you weren't being serious."

"Oops, that was a joke," said John. "Evanesco."

Remus shook his head and handed the book to John. "I can't believe you spent all that time on this, and I don't even want to know how you knew all that. This is ridiculous."

"Ridiculous, maybe—but it's accurate, and that's rare in and of itself for a werewolf book." John flipped through the book for a few moments, and then he shut it sharply. "Here, Potter, you can take this," he said. "It's just basic information, but I'm sure it'll help you more than any book in that library." Questus tossed the book to James—it was large, but paperback—and James caught it expertly. He grinned and started to leaf through it. Things were crossed out, there were notes written in the margins, spare bits of parchment hanging out... it looked perfect.

"Thank you," said James. He glanced at Remus, who looked more than a bit uncomfortable. "S'fine, Remus," said James, "you've answered all the important bits, anyway. I'm only curious. There's probably stuff in here that I wouldn't even think to ask."

"Any more questions for me before you leave?" asked John. "I don't mind answering questions at all—I've certainly done my research."

John winked at Remus, who groaned. "Too much research," Remus said. "Far too much. He knows more about me than I do, I think."

"We actually do have a question for you, John," said Peter, who seemed to be summoning the little Gryffindor courage and smooth wit that he possessed. "Would you teach us how to cast Patronuses?"

John blinked. "Patronuses...? Why would you... oh. Oh. You think that..." He turned to face Remus, who was nonplussed. "Go in the dining room again, Lupin."

Remus looked borderline horrified. "What? Why? Patronuses have nothing to do with werewolves... I didn't know anything about this... why would you want to learn how to cast a Patronus, Peter? Are there Dementors?"

"Other room," said John again, and Remus scowled and shut the door behind him.

John cast the Soundproofing Charm, pursed his lips, and turned to the remaining Marauders with a grim look.

"Animagi, hm?" he said.

AN: Finally! Now we're cooking with fire!