The Perfect Plan that the Marauders had devised was falling apart about Peter's feet, and Peter could do nothing but watch. "What? Animagi? Nooooo," said Sirius, whose face was becoming slightly frantic.
Questus sighed, as calm as ever. "Come now, Black. What other reason would you need to learn the Patronus Charm? It's not as if you're going to encounter many Dementors over the course of your life... unless you break a law, of course. I wouldn't be surprised if you did, actually. All three of you. Leave Lupin out of your lawbreaking, though... the Ministry will not go easy on him." Questus chuckled, which Peter thought was a bit odd. It hadn't been very funny at all.
Peter could practically feel James and Sirius casting nasty looks in his direction. He'd given it away! He'd asked Professor Questus how to cast a Patronus, and now, somehow, Questus knew their Perfect Plan. It had been such a big secret for such a long time, and he'd given it away! He couldn't believe he'd messed up this much when so many people had been counting on him. "We just think it's a cool charm," said Peter desperately... could he still save it? He hoped so. "And I don't see what Patronuses have to do with Animagi, anyway."
"You're a good liar, Pettigrew," said Questus, and Peter puffed up a little. He'd always been good. His mum never did find out who'd stolen that biscuit. "But you can't convince me," John continued, and Peter's spirits immediately deflated. "Pettigrew here says that he doesn't know the correlation between Patronuses and Animagi. Do any of you know what Patronuses have to do with Animagi?"
James and Sirius were silent.
"No?" said Questus.
They shook their heads, and Peter joined in.
"Well, that proves that you're lying, doesn't it? All three of you wrote about the correlation between Patronuses and Animagi in an essay for me, remember? I believe you were researching Animagi because you thought that Lupin was one back then, and you just couldn't resist showing off extra information. Do you remember that?"
Understanding and regret dawned on James' face, and Sirius bit his lip. "That doesn't prove we're lying, sir," said James. "Just that we forgot. Or don't want to do extra schoolwork and answer your questions outside of school."
"Potter, you don't forget things. You and I both know that. Besides, you just called me 'sir'. If nothing else proved that you were lying, that did. You three are planning on becoming Animagi."
There was a long silence. Peter didn't want to be the first one to speak—he usually said the wrong thing, anyway.
"So what if we are?" Sirius blurted.
Questus frowned. "Well, I think it's stupid, but I won't stop you. I don't have the authority, seeing as I am not Hogwarts staff, and I certainly don't have the obligation, seeing as I no longer work for the government. But I do want to know your reasoning—if nothing else, it'll be entertaining to hear."
"I'll tell him," said James, sighing. "When we thought that Remus' mum was a werewolf..."
"When you thought that Remus' mum was a werewolf," said Sirius. "I always knew that was daft."
"I was closer to the truth than any of you were."
"Boys, continue," said Questus. "We don't have all day, especially not when your frightened friend is still waiting in the dining room... probably tearing his hair out at this point, to be honest."
"Fine," said James. "When we thought that Remus' mum was a werewolf, we were researching a bit... and we learned that werewolves don't attack animals—only humans. Right?"
"That is correct."
"So we thought... how can a human not be a human anymore? Remus went home every month, so our theory only made sense if Remus kept his werewolf mum company or something during full moons. So then we thought... Animagi! It made so much sense. A werewolf wouldn't hurt an Animagus, because an Animagus isn't human. We even looked it up in a book, which is weird for us. Animals recognize Animagi as one of their own! Oh wait, I didn't mean to say that Remus was an animal or whatever..." James trailed off, feeling horribly guilty.
"He is on the full moon," said Questus dismissively. "Debatably twenty-four-seven, according to some sources. Continue."
"So when he told us that no one kept him under control on the full moons... we thought that maybe we could! I'm really good at Transfiguration, and I think it might be fun to keep him company... like a little club! And you said yourself that he's lonely and it's isolating, so it'll help, I'm sure of it. It's not that different from visiting him in the Hospital Wing, right?"
"It is and I have objections," said Questus, resting his chin on his fingertips. "But continue."
"Okay, so we did more research, and we learned that Patronus forms are often the same as Animagus forms... unless someone is in love or someone close to them died or something... and that doesn't apply to us, I don't think... so we wanted to know what our Animagus forms were, and we figured Patronuses were a good place to start. We've been doing research on Animagi for a long time now. We've hidden it from Remus pretty well, though, because we don't want him to panic again. You think he will?"
Questus started laughing—like, actually laughing, not that weird snorting noise that he usually made. Peter tried to exchange a confused look with James, but James was too busy exchanging confused looks with Sirius. "Oh, that's the funniest thing I've heard all day," said Questus. "Yes. Not only will he panic; he'll refuse to let you do it. Crying may or may not be involved, and I'd bet you anything that something will be thrown and/or an armchair will be dropped on your head. I almost have personal experience with that, I'm afraid. Lupin can be quite dangerous when he feels cornered."
"But if we actually become Animagi and then tell him, then he can't refuse, right? He'll feel guilty if we spent so much time on him and then weren't allowed to do anything with it."
"Congratulations, Potter. You know Remus-Lupin-the-Person very well," said Questus, "but you do not know Remus-Lupin-the-Werewolf. He has nightmares about hurting you, doesn't he? Pomfrey's mentioned them to me. The mere prospect of having you around on the full moon affects him potently—both physically and mentally—doesn't it?"
"Yeah," said Sirius. "But he has nightmares about hurting us. If we're Animagi, then it'll be safe, he won't hurt us—ergo, it won't bother him. Right?"
"An Animagus has never spent time with a werewolf, Black, so it's not confirmed that it's safe at all. Animals may recognize Animagi as their own, but werewolves are magical and highly dangerous creatures and may see through it. The whole idea is so ridiculous that I'm not even sure why I have to explain it to you. Even if Lupin doesn't somehow sense that you three are human, he still might hurt you. He hurts himself, and he's not human. He'll attack anything in the room—the furniture, the walls, et cetera—if he doesn't have some sort of outlet, which he doesn't and he never will (well, hopefully). And I'm not sure how contamination would work... if you were bitten and still had saliva in your bloodstream when you transformed back, then you might be turned into werewolves, which is a fate I'm sure Lupin wouldn't wish on his very worst enemy. If you are there, then it will be dangerous, no matter what animal you may be. The danger is shockingly apparent; after all, your friend would be a magical wolf with claws and teeth and no self-control no matter what form you take."
James rolled his eyes. "And Quidditch is a magical sport with balls that want to kill you and a potential fifty-foot drop and heavy metal bats, and we let children play that. What's life without a bit of danger? Danger is what makes things fun!"
"It won't be fun, Potter. It will be horrible. He won't want you to see it, even if you can help. It is excruciating; I don't know how I can stress that enough. Why on earth would he want you there for that?"
"But maybe we can help if we're there with him! Maybe we can make it better!"
"Yeah? What are you going to do? How, pray tell, will being nearer to him help? Do you think that you can politely ask him to calm down? Do you think that your presence will make the shift from boy to wolf completely painless? Do you think that you'll all just curl up in the corner and have a nice nap? Play tug-of-war, perhaps? Tag? Chess?"
James looked a little sheepish. "No, but maybe... I think it'll help if we're there for him, at least. Moral support."
"That helps in emotional matters, but not physical. Having people around will likely make it physically worse. The more agitation, the more violence."
"You don't know that," argued Sirius.
"I will admit that there are some things that I don't know for certain, but there are far more things that you don't know, Black. I don't think you quite understand how difficult it is to become an Animagus. You're looking at hours... years... perhaps decades of study and practice. You will risk your life doing this. You could die. You could be stuck as half-animal half-human mutants for the rest of your lives. And you most certainly cannot undergo the process without Lupin noticing. It's a nice thought, keeping your friend company through the full moons; they're very difficult for him. And if it were more practical, I'd be encouraging you to do it myself. But it's not practical, it won't work, and you might as well forget the idea before you seriously damage someone. Lupin will never agree to this—never. Injuring someone is his greatest fear... he's even downright irrational about it at times. It'd be impossible to convince him, even if the idea was reasonable. All three of you are being ridiculous."
"Huh," said Sirius thoughtfully. "Yeah, no, we're still doing it. I think it'll be fun."
"This is a very, very bad idea," warned Questus. "Colossally bad. Terribly bad. Awfully bad. Enormously bad. All four of you could end up dead by your fourth year. Or third, depending. Perhaps even this year."
"Sounds like fun," said James.
"Lupin won't agree."
"We don't need him," said Sirius.
"For your plan to work, you quite literally do. I'm telling you: nothing you do will help him. Lycanthropy is incurable, and it's time you accepted that, just as he has. There's no sense risking your lives."
"Does anything we do make sense?" piped Peter.
"You're complete idiots, all three of you," said Questus with some awe. "I mean it. It doesn't matter how much Lupin's heart is set on something, I can nearly always talk him out of it with half an hour and some tea. But you three do not listen to reason. I am a highly-successful former Auror four times your age telling you that it will not work, and you completely ignore all of my points. They're good points. Have you brains at all?"
"Highly successful?" said Sirius, pointing to Questus' damaged leg and grinning. "I doubt that."
Ooh, that had been mean. Peter waited for a few seconds, afraid that Questus would be angry... but Questus only laughed. "Point taken. But it still doesn't justify anything."
"I go with my gut," said James stubbornly, "and my gut is always right."
"Except when you thought that Remus' mum was a werewolf?" said Sirius.
"Shut up about that. I was close. Anyway, my gut is telling me that this is probably one of the most important things that we'll ever do. My gut is telling me that we can help Remus and that we'll be best friends for years and years and years. My gut is also telling me that we'll succeed and we won't die or whatever. We're basically invincible."
"You're not," Questus said. "You're just stupid."
"Thanks, John," said James with a cheeky grin, "but nothing you say will convince us. So will you help us cast a Patronus or not?"
Questus sighed, removed his spectacles, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "This is such a bad idea."
"Yes, we've been over that," said Sirius.
"I can't cast a Patronus, you know. I'm not the right person to teach you."
"You can't?" said Peter, surprised. "But you're an Auror!"
"I was an Auror, Pettigrew. Past tense, not present. And I can cast a Patronus when I'm genuinely happy, but that's pretty much useless, especially since I'm hardly ever so. I have problems manufacturing strong emotions, that's all. It's nothing to do with magical talent. The charm is difficult precisely because it's nothing to do with magical talent—only certain types of people with certain emotional skillsets can cast it. So no, I'm not the best person to teach you." He sighed again. "But I do know the theory... and if you're going to learn it, you might as well learn it properly so that you don't accidentally blow up your heads. Lupin would be devastated. Speaking of which." With that, Questus waved his wand, and Remus quickly re-entered the living room.
Remus did not look happy. "I don't know why you keep asking me to leave. Patronuses have nothing to do with werewolves."
"I thought that your friends might have had ulterior motives," said Questus smoothly. "But they're far stupider than I ever imagined."
"Well, I could have told you that," said Remus, and Sirius swatted his arm.
"Anyway, I'm going to teach your friends how to cast a Patronus so that they don't learn from a less trustworthy source and end up blowing their heads to smithereens."
"I would be devastated," said Remus.
"Yes, that's what I told them. Would you like to learn, too?"
"Er... why not?"
"Wonderful. I can't teach you today—too tired—but perhaps tomorrow afternoon?"
"All right. It's not as if there's much else to do around here." Remus checked his watch and grimaced. "We're really late. We should get back to my house. Thank you for everything, Professor!"
"Don't call me Professor," Peter heard Questus say just before they shut the door and started walking back to Remus' house.
It had been quite the day, and Peter wasn't exactly sure how to feel about it yet. He wished he could talk to Remus about it, but it was still top-secret (and Peter had already risked giving that particular secret away once today). Peter reckoned he knew how Remus had felt when he'd been keeping his werewolf secret from Peter and the other Marauders. Keeping secrets from friends felt absolutely awful.
Remus Lupin knew secrets, and he was nearly positive that Professor Questus and his friends were keeping one from him.
But Remus Lupin also had secrets—quite a lot of them—so he thought it would be quite hypocritical to pry. Instead, he swallowed his curiosity and reminded himself that he trusted Questus, and he trusted his friends... so what could go wrong? It couldn't possibly be anything dangerous, right?
"You're back!" called Remus' mum as the four of them stepped through the front door. The smells of pasta were emitting from the kitchen, and Remus smiled.
"Yes, Mum," said Remus. "We had fun, and none of us are hurt."
"What did I tell you, Hope?" said Remus' father. "They're fine, just like I said they would be. There was no sense working yourself into a state. You'll have to tell us all about it over dinner, boys. I'm afraid the pasta is a little cold, but I'll heat it up with a Warming Charm. I assume you're well enough to sit at the table, Remus?"
"Yes, Dad," said Remus, trying not to roll his eyes. "I've been walking around all day. I am capable of sitting up."
"Just checking."
They spent forty-five minutes eating, even though Remus was sure that the portions were smaller than his friends were used to. The Lupin family had more money now that Remus wasn't around all the time (a fact that often made Remus feel very guilty—if it weren't for him, then his family would still be perfectly financially stable), but the Lupins would never have as much as the Potters, the Blacks, or even the Pettigrews. Remus expected his friends to finish eating quite quickly... but every time one of them tried to wrap up supper, James would start telling another story about their adventures at rapid-fire speed. It was nice, actually.
"So what are your plans for Christmas?" Remus' father asked, finally ushering them to the more comfortable sitting room to continue chatting. "Any of you are welcome to stay, but I know that you probably have things to do with your own families."
"Yeah," said James. "I'd love to stay, I really would... but my mum would murder me if I didn't spend Christmas with her. Christmas is her favorite time of year."
"Same here," said Peter. "I need to be home by tomorrow evening."
Remus' father nodded. "Feel free to use the Floo; we have a bit of Floo Powder to spare. I'm not very good at Apparating to places I've never been, unfortunately."
"I'm going to take the Knight Bus," said James. "I've been wanting to ride it alone for ages, but Mum says that I need to be thirteen. But I begged her to let me do it now the other day and she said that it should be all right, since I'm only a few months away from thirteen... so I'm going to ride it all the way home!"
Remus didn't have good memories attached to the Knight Bus (he'd only ridden it once, and it had been to St. Mungo's directly after being bitten), and he could feel his parents staring at him. He nearly rolled his eyes. It wasn't that big of a deal; it was only an offhand mention of a bus. Were they really so affected by the mere mention of the Knight Bus that they thought he'd be distraught or something? "Cool," Remus said simply, and his parents looked away.
"I want to stay for Christmas!" said Sirius. "I know I said that I wanted to spend Christmas at James' house this year, but I'm already here, so... how about I leave day after Christmas? I'll ride the Knight Bus to James'. I'm really curious about Christmas at Remus'—you eat in the sitting room, so I'm sure it'll be great!"
Remus laughed. "We don't eat in the sitting room all the time, Sirius."
"Won't your parents miss you, Sirius?" said Remus' mother. "You might want to send them a letter, at least—let them know you're staying."
"Miss me?" said Sirius, incredulous. "Mrs. Lupin, my parents think that I am the literal scum of the earth."
"Just because he was Sorted into Gryffindor!" added Peter.
"Actually, no. It's because I was Sorted into Gryffindor... and because I wasn't top of the form last year, and because I once turned Mum's hair pink (apparently pink hair is not becoming on a dignified Pureblood witch), and because I kick Regulus under the table sometimes, and because I don't like green, and because I whistle indoors and once accidentally dropped a house-elf out the window and don't do my schoolwork and called the tutor a turtle butt."
"A turtle butt?" said James.
"You dropped a house-elf out a window?" said Peter.
"You can whistle?" said Remus.
"Absolutely, of course, and slightly. Wanna hear?" Sirius started to whistle a very screechy note, and Remus clapped his hands over his ears.
"Goodness, Sirius, that's very high," said Remus' mother, brows creased.
"I know. It's a G#. That's the only note I can whistle. Isn't it great?"
"No," said Remus, and Sirius stuck his tongue out.
They stayed downstairs and talked for a bit longer until Remus' mum checked the clock, saw that it was half nine, and sent Remus up to bed very sternly. "But Mum, I'm all better now," Remus complained.
"Yes. You're also twelve. Up to bed, all four of you."
"I'm not twelve," said Sirius.
"Don't care. Up to bed."
So they went up to bed. Granted, none of them fell asleep until midnight, but Remus' parents didn't have to know.
Hope and Lyall Lupin had never been comfortable putting up Soundproofing Charms in their home during the daytime. After the terrible events of 1965, they needed to be able to hear what was going on upstairs—yes, Remus could protect himself, and no, nothing was likely to happen, but the Lupins knew from experience that the worst tragedies often came out of the blue.
Recently, they'd had more time alone (too much, in their opinion; suppertime felt so empty when it was only the two of them, and they'd had to relearn how to talk to each other without a child present). But before Hogwarts, Remus had been home every day—of every week—of every month—of every year... for more than six years straight. They didn't feel comfortable putting up Soundproofing Charms, and they most certainly didn't feel comfortable leaving him alone in the house, so the only time they'd been able to talk to each without Remus overhearing (those enhanced senses were a curse sometimes) was when he was fast asleep and unlikely to wake up.
A lot had happened in the last couple of days, and Lyall and Hope had plenty to discuss. But they weren't stupid, and they knew that Remus wasn't going to bed exactly when he was supposed to. So at five am, Hope (who was often an early riser), nudged Lyall awake; the two of them snuck downstairs, being very careful not to wake up the four children sleeping in their home, and settled on the couch with mugs of tea. Remus was many things, but he was not an early riser (save for when he was poorly, but Hope and Lyall were confident that he'd tuckered himself out). He was sleeping, so they could talk.
"I don't think Remus went to sleep until eleven last night," said Hope. "He thought that he was being quiet, but I could hear him whispering... couldn't you?"
Lyall chuckled. "Of course, Hope. Typical preteen boy."
"I never thought I'd hear that phrase spoken of Remus."
"He is perfectly normal, thank you very much," said Lyall with a grin.
Long silence. Hope chewed her right thumbnail anxiously, left hand shaking on the handle of the mug.
"I just wish he'd go to sleep earlier, since he's tiny and delicate and didn't get any sleep at all only a couple of nights ago..."
"Hope. Remember the talk that we had yesterday while the boys were away? He can take care of himself, and he will need to do so in the future."
"I know, it's just..."
"I know it's hard. You've been watching him and caring for him all hours of the day for years. But... please let him be normal, just this once. His friends are here. He has friends! For a werewolf, that's... that's a big deal."
"But the full moon was only a couple of nights ago! He'd normally still be at least partially bedridden at this point..."
"But thanks to Poppy, he's not."
"He's been through so much and I want to protect him from anything that could make his already-awful life even more difficult!"
"Like embarrassing him in front of his friends?" Lyall said, smiling.
Hope laughed. "Okay, you got me there. Most of it is genuine worry, but... oh, I never thought my son would have friends that I could embarrass him in front of! It's sort of... well, it's sort of fun."
"You evil woman. When I was his age, my mum always made sure to kiss me in public... and she always wore lipstick, too. Torture."
Hope laughed, and then trailed off. Another long silence. Lyall tapped on the arm of the couch with his left index finger, right hand rubbing slow circles across the rim of his mug.
"What was that thing that Questus said about a month ago?" he said quietly.
"Just because Remus' 'healthy' is different from ours doesn't mean that he doesn't have one," quoted Hope.
"I reckon he can do whatever his friends can. And he knows his limits."
"Sometimes."
"Sometimes."
"He's been... a lot more calm about werewolves in general... than he was."
"I noticed that. He's always the first to respond when his friends ask uncomfortable questions... like about the cellar..."
"And the joke that one of them made over breakfast."
"And the Knight Bus."
"I wonder how many questions his friends have asked," said Hope.
Another long silence.
"...I wonder how many he's answered," said Lyall.
The speed of Lyall's tapping left index finger increased, and Hope's right hand was still shaking slightly on the mug. "Lyall..." she murmured, but she wasn't sure what else to say.
"I'm sorry, Hope, but I couldn't bear it if they knew." Lyall grasped at his hair in a melodramatic, agonized fashion. "I... I know they can obviously keep a secret... and I know that Remus has the right to tell anyone he wants... it's not up to me, of course... but I couldn't bear it! They'll hate me... and, well, I'm not totally undeserving of that..."
"Lyall!"
"Hope! I am the reason for... for everything! We could have had a normal family if it weren't for me. Remus could have been healthy... I could have spared him the torture that he goes through every month if I'd only... if I'd only... If it weren't for me, he could have had this ever since birth! Friends, happiness... what we've been seeing in him for the past few days, what is so... so out-of-the-ordinary, so extraordinary, the emotions that are so foreign on his face... that's the sort of thing that every child is supposed to have. Every time I think about how strange it is for Remus to look so healthy and happy, I remember that it's not a good thing for happiness to be such a foreign concept in a child's life. And... if it weren't for me... then he could've been fine. He could've been happy. He could've had the basics, at least... if it weren't for me."
"No. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't even have a Remus," said Hope dryly, "seeing as it takes two to make a child."
Lyall didn't even chuckle at Hope's joke as a formality. "You know what I mean. I'll never forget... the first month, and St. Mungo's, and... do you remember, after a couple of days of sleeping in those horrible chairs next to Remus' hospital bed, watching him sleep, Susi—that other werewolf in Mungo's—told us to go home for a moment? She watched him for us, and we went home to take showers and clean up a little before we took Remus home. And... it was like something frozen in time. Like a museum. Remember?"
Hope nodded mutely. "Everything was right where we'd left it, but nothing was the same at all. It was too quiet. I cried for ages. Do you remember how it was raining that night he was bitten?"
"Yes, of course. And the window was broken, so there was water damage in his room when we came back."
"The lights were still on in the kitchen, and the blankets were on the floor. We stood there for ages before going upstairs."
"And his mattress was clawed half to bits."
"And the neighbor lady, Mrs. Watson... she was so curious..."
"You said he'd fallen out the window and was in hospital."
"Well, it was half right."
"Remember how awful it was, Hope? Like the world was crashing into the sun, but agonizingly slowly. Like everything was falling to pieces around us. Like the moment after the Seeker on the opposing team catches the Snitch, except so much worse."
"I understood two of those analogies."
"But you remember how awful it was?"
Hope sighed. "Yes, Lyall. I remember how awful it was. I don't see how I could ever forget."
"It was awful," he said again, "and it was even more awful for Remus, and it's still happening. For him, it's a nightmare that never ends. It's a monthly cycle. I wonder if... sometimes I wonder if coming back from the cellar feels like... feels like that. Like how it felt when we came back from St. Mungo's. Different, but all the same... and the world keeps turning around you, but something heart-stoppingly terrible has just happened, and nothing is the same at all... which makes it hurt even more that everything is the same, exactly the same as it was. Maybe he feels like that all the time. And if he does... Hope, that was my fault. This is my fault. I'm amazed he doesn't hate me. Do you think he does? He might."
She sighed again. "He doesn't."
"I know. He's a saint."
"He's not a saint. He stayed up far past his bedtime last night, and he's best friends with a couple of troublemakers. Definitely not a saint. He doesn't hate you because it wasn't all your fault, not because he's a saint."
"It was. It was all my fault."
"I swear, Lyall. We've done this for years. Who was it that bit Remus?"
"Hope..."
"Answer me."
"Fenrir Greyback."
"Who was it that did it on purpose, as revenge, for a stupid, petty reason?"
"Fenrir Greyback."
"Who illegally entered our home and bit a five-year-old child with no remorse or hesitation?"
"Fenrir Greyback."
"And gets some sort of sick satisfaction out of ruining the lives of small children?"
"Fenrir Greyback."
"And rendered our son nearly unconscious, bleeding, all but dying, and traumatized for life?"
"Fenrir Greyback."
"So whose fault was it?"
"Mine."
"Oh, come on."
Lyall smiled sadly. "I'm only joking. That did help. Always does. I only... want a normal life for him. To make up for what I did..."
"Not you."
"To make up for what I did," Lyall repeated. "Just... let him be a normal kid, okay? As... as normal as possible. For right now. Until he grows up, tries to get a job, and realizes that he never will have friends or money or a family of his own... on account of my mistakes."
"I don't know about that," said Hope. "His friends seem pretty loyal. I wouldn't be surprised if they last for years."
For a moment, Lyall was quiet. Then he said, "You're an optimist."
"I have to be. My name is Hope."
"Haha, very funny."
For a very long time, there was nothing but the sounds of a leaky tap, rustling leaves, and light breathing. The conversation had ended, but it continued silently; there was nothing more to say, but only because there weren't enough words. It was a conversation that they'd had many times before, and it was a conversation that would never truly end—they had it in glances over supper, in small smiles whenever Remus was telling a story, and in the smallest of mundane gestures during daily life. It was a conversation that never ended, because experiencing pain together demanded a conversation—and pain was exactly what it was; it was a painful conversation—but still the conversation lingered.
But there were worse things than a conversation.
Hope drew in a deep breath and then let it out, disturbing the imperfect silence, and then she put her mug down and walked to the kitchen to get started on the laundry.
AN: I made a minuscule change that I'm 100% certain that none of you have noticed, but I figured I'd say something anyway. There's one offhand mention in Chapter 27 of a kid named "Milo Ragfarn". His name is now Edmund. It fits a ton better imo!