Remus came downstairs the next morning to the sounds of raucous laughter, which was an odd sound to hear in the Lupin household. Professor Questus was in the sitting room, reading the Prophet (when had he arrived?), James and Sirius were reading something off of a piece of parchment and giggling, and Peter was eating cornflakes and dry toast. "Hullo, Professor Questus," said Remus, grabbing the plate of eggs that his mother had set on the table for him. "Why are you here?"

Professor Questus didn't even look up at him. "Don't call me Professor. And your mum wasn't exaggerating when she said that I was practically living here. When I'm well, at least. I have a key." Questus pulled out a glittering object from his pocket, his eyes still on the Prophet. "You know, I never really liked people much in general, but I'm starting to realize that life is pretty miserable without them."

"He's the oddest visitor ever," said Remus' father, who was standing next to Remus' friends and smiling. "Comes by in the middle of the night sometimes. I went downstairs for a glass of water at about two in the morning once and he was sleeping on the armchair with the cat."

"My own house gets far too quiet," said Questus, shrugging. "Used to board with two other Aurors before coming to Hogwarts, so I'm not used to this."

"Why'd you do that?" asked James, interested.

"Well, we started because we didn't have enough money to live on our own—higher-level Auror training was terrifically expensive back in the day and our parents weren't very supportive. And then it just became easier since we were all going to the same place every day. Didn't have the heart to stop. So it was me and a couple others for thirty-odd years." Questus frowned and looked up from the Prophet, clearly thinking very hard about something. "They're all dead now," he said. "Well, dead to me, anyhow, and I wouldn't really mind if they were dead for real. We had a bit of a row before I moved here. Hate them now." He took a sip of coffee and returned to the Prophet.

"What are you laughing about?" Remus asked James and Sirius, sensing a need for a shift in conversation.

"'World Domination in Sixty-Seven Easy Steps'," said Sirius.

"What?!"

"Yeah, your dad told us that you wrote it specifically to mess with your uncle. But... I don't think that you used the word 'space-time continuum' properly."

Remus tried to grab the parchment from Sirius, but Sirius held it out of his reach. "Sirius!"

"It's funny! Well, it's funny to imagine you trying to do any of this. And the fact that you write essays for fun is hilarious."

"It wasn't really for fun," said Remus, giving up the battle. "World domination is a very serious topic."

James grinned. "Sure. Just let us know when you want to start so that we can help. I have a few ideas, myself."

"Really, now?"

"Of course. You didn't even mention samurai swords."

"Ah, that's what I was forgetting!" said Remus in mock frustration. "Well, now I have to start over. I suppose I also neglected to write about gorillas?"

"Not a one mention," said Sirius gravely. "By the way, your essay about Gryffindor was top-notch."

"Gryffindor is indeed better than Ravenclaw," added James.

"Is not," said Remus' father.

"Is too."

"Isn't."

"Is."

"You're wrong."

"James Potter is always right."

Remus father grinned and shook his head. "Do you boys have any plans for today?" he asked by way of argument; apparently, even he could tell that an argument with James Potter would be fairly pointless.

Remus shrugged. "We're going Professor Questus' house at... what was it, Professor?"

"Don't call me Professor. Three's fine."

"Three. Other than that, I think we've yet to make any plans."

"We still have to decorate for Christmas," said Remus' father. "If you four would like to help..."

"Yes!" said Sirius. "My family doesn't decorate for Christmas. We just sit in utter silence. Deck the halls with boughs of boredom..."

Remus laughed at Sirius' parody politely before realizing exactly what his father had meant by "decorate" and immediately groaning. "Dad, please tell me that you don't mean..."

"What other Christmas decorations do we own, Remus? James, do you want to help me carry the tree in?"

The Lupin family didn't have many Christmas decorations—they tried to keep sentimental possessions to a minimum since they moved around so much, and there was no money to be spending on trivial things such as decorations. But they'd owned the same plastic tree since Remus was one, and they put it up nearly every year without fail, even when Remus was too ill to help. They also owned a simple garland and a star for the top, but the main event every year was the box of ornaments.

They weren't store-bought ornaments, however: they were handmade crafts from Remus' childhood, as well as a couple from his parents' childhoods. There wasn't much else to do when Remus was bedridden all the time, and his mum had always been creative.

They usually hung up the ornaments quietly every year, perhaps humming Christmas tunes and chatting a bit—but overall, Christmas decorating was a very quiet event in the Lupin household. Christmas was generally a time of peace more so than a time of cheer. It was a time to sit in silence and rest from the awful hubbub of the full moon; a time to try to remember and forget all at the same time. It was quiet. With the Marauders, though... decorating was the dead opposite of quiet.

"Is this supposed to be a cow?" said James, pulling out a barely-recognizable piece of paper with three legs.

"Of course," said Remus. "Doesn't it look like one?"

"No."

"Rude. I'll have you know I was quite the artist for my age at the time."

"How old were you, then?"

"Er... how old was I when I made the cow, Mum? I don't remember making it at all."

"Two and a half, I think."

"There, see? I was hardly more than a baby."

Sirius was laughing over a stick-figure drawing of the Lupin family. "Why on earth is there a black void of death standing behind you?"

"I don't know! I don't remember! I must have been pretty young... although the straight lines are pretty impressive for a kid..."

"Remus didn't draw that," said Remus' mother, affronted. "I drew that. When you were three, dear. And that's not a black void of death; it's only Garrison."

Remus laughed. "Of course you did. Look, Mum, here's the one that I drew when we had that poltergeist, remember? The one that we had didn't look a thing like Peeves, did it?"

"The one that you drew doesn't look a thing like anything, mate."

"Shut up, James. Oh, here's the one that your father got you when you got married, Dad."

"Hope and Lyall Lupin, January twenty-fourth, 1959."

"And here's the one he got you when I was born, remember?"

"Remus Lupin, March tenth, 1960."

"Thought your granddad hated you?" said Sirius, frowning.

Remus' parents froze, and Remus cringed. The Lupin household did not talk about such things. No, anything remotely negative was boxed up and packed away, never to be spoken of unless the situation specifically warranted it. They didn't discuss matters like that for the purposes of mere curiosity. If they did, then Remus' mother would cry, and Remus' father would get all guilty, and then Remus would feel bad for ever having brought it up...

"Not when I was an infant," said Remus, trying to act nonchalant and answer Sirius' question at the same time. "Who could hate an infant?"

"My parents could," said Sirius. "You should see my baby pictures. I'm all smiling or crying and Mum's face is just like this." Sirius' face went slack and he narrowed his eyes. "See? It's ridiculous. But yeah, that was before you were a werewolf, wasn't it?"

"Erm, yes," said Remus, trying to look anywhere but his parents' faces.

"Huh. Well, your granddad's crazy."

"He's not..."

"Your granddad. Technically. Right. Well." Sirius looked at Remus' dad and made a face. "Your dad's crazy, Mr. Lupin."

"Yes," said Remus' father stiffly. "Hey, look at this one. Remus made this clay snowman a couple of years ago."

Remus jumped onto the new subject with vigor, hoping to eradicate the unspeakable tension. "A couple? Dad, I was ten."

"A couple of years, that's what I said."

"Feels like forever ago."

"And Hope made this when she was a kid... she had eight sisters, you know."

"Woah!" said James, finally jumping back into the conversation, and then the tension was finally broken. Remus breathed a silent sigh of relief. He loved having his friends over, far more than he'd expected, but... being the only thing standing between them and his parents was sort of exhausting. It was all right, though. There were only a few more days to go, and Remus would deal with every near-disaster that came his way.

Professor Questus was quiet for the rest of the day, listening to Remus and his friends chat and reading the Prophet. He didn't look well at all—his face was very grey and he kept nodding off. Remus' mum offered him some tea, but he declined and Apparated home without so much as a goodbye. "Oh dear," said Remus' mum. "Lyall, you should probably go and make sure he didn't..."

"Splinch himself," Lyall supplied, putting on his coat already. "Yes, good idea."

"Should we stay home today?" said Remus. "We were going to visit at three, but if he isn't feeling well..."

"I've seen him worse, believe it or not," said Remus' mum. "Go over at three and ask. He'll send you home if he needs to." Remus seriously doubted that he would, but he knew what it was like to look worse than he actually was.

At three, the Marauders raced each other to Professor Questus' house. James won. Remus didn't even try to run, so he lost miserably. Sirius and James laughed at Peter as he tried to catch up, and then they shouted at Remus to hurry.

"I'm hurrying!" yelled Remus, but then he started walking even more slowly just to spite them.

Remus finally arrived at Questus' and knocked on the door, and Questus responded almost immediately with a simple, "Door's open." His voice was so much quieter than usual that even Remus nearly missed it. He opened the door carefully and stepped inside.

Questus was in the armchair again. Werewolf was snoozing contentedly on his lap, and Questus' eyes were partially closed. He really did look ill. "Do you want us to leave?" asked Remus tentatively. "We can come back another time."

Questus' eyes flew open, and then he scowled a bit. "Absolutely not," he said. "And next time you ask if I want any special accommodations because of my condition, you'd best remember how you like people to treat you when you're poorly."

"Well, if they're bothering me, I'd want them to leave," said Remus. "You should have heard what I said to Pensley the other month when she came by directly before the full moon."

Questus perked up. "Yes, do tell."

"Well, I was... a bit out-of-it. I assume you know how I get directly before the full moon. It was seven am, I'd been up for hours, and I had just been ready to take a nap when she came in... I asked Madam Pomfrey to keep her out, but Madam Pomfrey... thought she could help, I guess."

"Pomfrey's a terrible person," muttered Questus. Remus ignored him.

"She kept telling me that her meditation hadn't cured me because I was doing it wrong, and then she said that I had a... what was it? Oh, yeah, a 'trapped soul'. I don't have much of a filter before the full moon... I think I said something along the lines of, 'I'm glad you think werewolves have souls; not everybody does, you know.'"

Questus snorted. "But that wasn't all, was it?"

"Nope. She'd heard about what you did for me after the full moons, and..."

"She tried to catch you up on the lesson?"

"Yep."

"The day of the full moon? Doesn't that sort of defeat the purpose? You miss lessons because you're too ill to sit classes on the day of the full moon. Why would you have he energy to do the lesson in a slightly different location?"

"Exactly. She didn't understand at all. I made a thinly-veiled jab at the fact that we don't really do anything of substance in that class anyway, and then..."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Didn't think you had it in you."

"Well, it was the day of the full moon. I had very little control."

"That's not true. I've seen you on the day of. The time you fell asleep in my class? The whole business with the law? You're not that bad."

"Yeah, but... it's Pensley. Not sure I wanted to control myself. I hate her more than I ever hated you."

"Really? Need to up my game, then."

"Please don't. Anyway, then she said that I need to have a better understanding of who I am on the inside..."

Questus laughed. "Oh, yes, you wrote to me about this part. Anyway. Your friends look confused and bored. We should probably begin."

James shrugged. "I dunno. I was sort of enjoying the story. Pensley deserves anything that Remus has ever said to her and more."

"Don't encourage me," said Remus. "So... Patronus Charm, eh? What inspired this, exactly?"

"Wanted to prove we could do it," said James.

"Seemed cool," said Sirius at exactly the same time.

"We were curious," said Peter simultaneously.

"...Okay."

Professor Questus cleared his throat with some difficulty—it seemed that speaking was a bit of an effort on his part, but Remus politely ignored it. "The Patronus Charm is notoriously difficult," said Questus. "One of the hardest spells to cast in the world, in fact. The reason that it is so difficult is that the caster must force his or herself to feel genuinely happy, a task that is easier said than done. I like to think that people have control over their emotions, but it is a lot easier to repress bad emotions than to generate happy ones. What you are essentially doing is manufacturing real happiness in a very short amount of time. What do you think is the best way to do that?"

"Happy memory," said James quickly.

"Yes, that is the most common way."

"Just speculating, but would a spell or potion work? Like a Cheering Charm?" asked Sirius.

"Good question. Is that genuine happiness, do you think, or is it something else? Does giddiness equate happiness?"

"I... suppose not."

"There you have it, then. I imagine it's easier to manufacture happiness when under the influence of something that takes away everything bad, but one still has to think of a happy memory, and Cheering Charms and the like do not a wizard make. It's a lot better to be able to do it without any help, especially since the giddiness is so easy to confuse with real happiness... which can make things even more difficult. Stick with true happiness, please. So think for a moment—try to recall the moment during which you felt the most happy. Doesn't even have to be a moment; it can be a concept or imaginary instance... as long as it makes you feel genuinely happy. I'm afraid I can't show you; seeing as I can't cast one myself..."

"You can't?" asked Remus, surprised.

"Nope. I'm not very emotional. I can force myself to not feel anything, but forcing myself to feel things is often difficult. Anyway... once you're ready, the incantation is Expecto Patronum."

James and Sirius started chanting the incantation over and over again with no avail. Peter's eyes were still shut tightly. Remus watched in amusement. He wasn't sure he really wanted to try—for if Questus couldn't do it, then what chance did Remus have? Questus was a highly-trained and highly successful Auror; Remus was only a kid who was quite average at magic. Besides, he liked watching his friends. James' hair always got wilder when he was attempting spells, Sirius eyebrows always moved up and down in a funny way. Remus was interested to see who would cast it first. He hoped it would be Peter.

"I can't do it!" said James. "I don't get it! I'm thinking of a happy memory!"

"What's your memory?" said Questus.

"Riding a broomstick."

Remus laughed. Riding a broomstick? That was so typical of James. That boy loved broomsticks; of course they would be his first thought. Yet this was James Potter, the boy with the loving parents and wealthy household and best friend and good marks without having to study... if Remus had James' life, he could just think about how lucky he was and he was sure that he would produce something. Remus tried to quash the feelings of jealousy.

"That's not nearly good enough," said Questus. "No, it needs to be much stronger."

"I can almost feel it," said Sirius. "I think it's close. But I can't get anything yet."

"I'm still thinking," said Peter.

"Well, that in and of itself is more than you ever did in my class last year. Hey, Lupin. Why don't you give it a go?"

"Not sure I want to," said Remus.

"Why not?"

"I'm having too much fun watching them. Besides, I... don't think I need to be able to cast a Patronus. I rather think that Dementors would stay away from me. Most Dark creatures do."

"I don't know that they would, actually," said Questus thoughtfully. "They go after emotions, not humans specifically. And I do believe you have human emotions, so you'd suffice for them."

"Oh, what a wonderful thought. I can be attacked by Dementors. I do believe that will help me cast a Patronus."

"Yes," Questus chuckled, and suddenly got a queer look on his face. "Really, Lupin. Give it a go. I'm curious. I think you could do it."

"Right now?"

"Yes. Black, Potter, Pettigrew, if you would stop for a second. All right, Lupin... happy thought. Got it?"

"Er..." Remus scrambled to come up with a happy thought. What made him happier than anything else? Not the full moon, that was for sure. Not waiting in the Shrieking Shack. Not the horrid walk back to the castle. Not the Hospital Wing... not the way his pillow got uncomfortable under his head all too quickly... not Madam Pomfrey's frock covered in Remus' blood... not the soft whispers of healing incantations that cut through the watery bubble that was his head... not waking up in the middle of the night with tears leaking down his cheeks as the potions wore off... not pitying gazes... not Pensley...

"I'm going to stop you right there, Lupin," said Questus. "Whatever you're thinking, it's not a happy thought. Try again. What makes you happy?"

The answer was simple, almost too simple. Remus thought of that morning, hanging Christmas decorations with his friends and laughing. He thought of chasing each other with sticks in the cold weather. He thought of walking to town. He thought of James' Muggle clothing and library disguises. He thought of the way that Peter moved towards Remus instinctively when he was afraid (and vice versa). He thought of Sirius' jokes and careless attitude. He thought of the Forbidden Forest, and the fact that they liked him no matter what, and James waking up early for him, and walking shoulder-to-shoulder... and laughing. "Expecto Patronum," he said, and his wand immediately produced a large shield. Peter stumbled back, surprised.

"Hold it," instructed Professor Questus. "Don't move."

Remus did, for as long as he was physically able, and then he sat down. The shield disappeared. "Did you see that?" he exclaimed, elated.

"No," said Questus. "Must have missed the gigantic glowing shield in the middle of my very small house."

"Oh, shut up. I did it! I actually did it!"

"Well, you came close. Real, fully-formed Patronuses are corporeal. But that was incredibly impressive." Questus leaned back into his chair and grinned. "Very, very impressive. I can honestly say that I didn't think it was possible for anyone to get results first try, especially not a twelve-year-old who is often quite mediocre at magic."

"Mediocre? You ruined the moment," Remus complained, but he was still smiling ear-to-ear. "Woah. I feel like I could do it again."

"Don't. You need to rest. Takes a lot of mental stamina to cast one of those, and you'll desensitize yourself to the happy memory if you think about it too much. The others can keep trying... if they're not too embarrassed to do so after that remarkable performance." They weren't, but both James and Sirius looked much more frustrated than they had before.

Remus sat and watched for a moment, and then he heard Questus make a small noise. He looked over, and Questus was motioning for Remus, so Remus scooted closer. "Do you know why you can cast it and they can't?" whispered Questus, too quietly for anyone but Remus to hear.

"No, sir. Why?"

"Don't call me sir. I don't know for sure, but I do have a theory. I want to see if you come up with the same one that I do. Think about it."

"Sure."

Remus thought. He thought and thought and thought. What could he do that they couldn't? He wasn't sure, actually... James was, logically, happier than he was. So why didn't it work for James? Was it some weird werewolf power that Remus hadn't known about? Remus racked his brain, trying to figure it out, but nothing came to mind.

Suddenly, Sirius grabbed James' face with both hands. James nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Merlin'sh beard, Shiriush," James said. Sirius was squishing his face fiercely. "That kinda hurtsh."

"Shush," said Sirius, "I'm thinking." Without warning, he let go of his face and turned around. James fell down on his bottom. "Expecto Patronum!" said Sirius, and, to Remus' surprise, he managed to cast a small wispy substance. "Look!" he said. "Expecto Patronum!" He did it again, and Peter watched, spellbound.

"Good," said Questus. "Very good, in fact. Most people don't manage that ten minutes in."

"Aw!" said James. "Were you thinking of me?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "No. I was thinking of shoving you in my mother's face and saying 'Look, here's my best friend who's a blood traitor and has horrible hair and is a Gryffindor!'" Remus wasn't sure if Sirius was telling the truth or not, but honestly? Either was possible.

"So you were thinking of me!" said James smugly. "Aw, you big old sap!"

"Shut up. Maybe I can do Remus next. 'Look, here's my werewolf friend who's a Mu... Muggle-born (sorry, Remus) and is poor and is in Gryffindor! Did I mention he's a werewolf?' She'd flip!"

"I'm not poor," Remus protested.

"You save wrapping paper. Yes, you are."

Questus cleared his throat loudly. "I hope you're not actually considering telling your mother about Lupin, Black."

"No, of course not! I was only joking. Gonna try again."

Sirius, Peter, and James kept chanting for the next twenty minutes, and Remus kept thinking. Why was his happy memory different from James' and Sirius' and Peter's?

"Sirius just proved my theory, I think," whispered Questus, grinning. "Got it yet?"

"Er... no. I don't think so."

"It'll be Pettigrew next, if he can manage it."

Sure enough, Peter managed a small wisp of a Patronus. He squeaked and fell backwards, beaming. "I did it! Look! Expecto Patronum!" He did it again, and this time it was a medium-sized shield. "Cool! I did it! Wow!"

Remus clapped enthusiastically and then turned to Professor Questus. "You were right."

"Of course. And Potter won't be able to do it at all today, mark my words. I'll give him ten minutes."

Ten minutes passed, and James did not cast a Patronus. He was starting to look more and more frustrated by the second—his face and neck were turning red, and they didn't do that often (unlike Remus, who had very pale skin). "Okay, take a break," said Questus, finally satisfied.

"But... but I didn't do it yet!" James protested. "Expecto Patronum. Expecto Patronum. Expecto..."

"Take a break, Potter. This is very advanced magic. No one expects you to manage it today."

"But Peter did it!" James howled. "Peter did it, and Remus did it! I can understand if Sirius did it and I can't, but Remus can't even Transfigure a mouse into a snuffbox! And Peter... well, Peter's Peter!"

"Peter's not stupid," said Remus, crossing his arms. "And I was top of my class after exams, wasn't I?"

"Wouldn't have been if there hadn't been a written portion," mumbled Sirius, clearly still bitter. "Any of us could have aced that part after hours in the Hospital Wing every month."

"Hang on," said Questus, holding up a hand, "you had just as much time as he did, didn't you? Only difference was that he had to learn all of the material that he missed by himself, he was ill, he was in pain, and he was missing sleep to do so..."

"Professor," mumbled Remus.

"They deserve the facts, don't they? They shouldn't underestimate the sacrifices that you make—they're certainly praiseworthy. It's hard work and passion that will get a person places in life, not innate talent, so I'm not sure why the latter is often praised more than the former..."

"It's not like that."

"Hm. Okay. Well, does anybody know why Lupin could cast it so well? There's a reason."

James rolled his eyes. "Because he's done it before? Has he been practicing? Is it something to do with being a werewolf?" Remus thought that the last part was a little uncalled for, even though he'd had the same thought himself.

"No, no, and not exactly. Lupin? Do you have it yet?"

Remus thought. He'd cast it... Sirius had cast it... Peter had cast it... James couldn't cast it... which didn't make sense, because James... Wait. That was why. James couldn't because James could. Did that make sense? Remus wasn't sure.

"What do you have that they don't?" Questus pressed.

"Bad memories," said Remus slowly, looking up at Questus. "That's it, isn't it?"

"In a nutshell, yes," said Questus. He leaned back into his chair, smiling. The cat jumped off of his lap and started rubbing against Peter's legs. Peter sneezed. "That's my theory, at least. Potter, you have two doting parents, don't you? Wealth? Big house? Good broomstick... very clever... good marks without having to try... a good childhood... and friends since you were young. All of that correct?"

"Yeah," grumbled James. "But wouldn't that make it easier?"

Questus held up a finger. "One would think. But no. A Patronus has to be a very, very happy memory—the very definition is that it has to be happy enough that just thinking about it gives you physical effects—heart rate speeding up, breathing patterns changing—Lupin would be able to tell if that were the case, wouldn't you, Lupin? Enhanced senses and all?"

Remus mumbled a vaguely affirmative response. He was kind of tired of being different.

"Think about it. If I were to take one aspect of Potter's life and give it to Pettigrew, Black or Lupin, then they would be happy enough to cast a Patronus, because that sort of happiness is out of the ordinary for them. If I were to give Pettigrew your ability to get good marks without doing your work, Potter, then he'd be able to cast a Patronus. If I were to give your family to Black, then he would be able to cast a Patronus. And Lupin could cast a Patronus precisely because he is experiencing what you have experienced your whole life—a childhood. Friends. The fact is, Potter, you can't cast a Patronus because you're too happy all the time. A very happy memory is much harder for you to conjure, because you're desensitized to happiness."

"I don't have a perfect life," James muttered.

"Compared to your friends, you do. Let me put it this way. Imagine a tower: your typical, day-to-day happiness levels would be on the fourth floor. So you have to think of a memory that is fifth-floor happiness level. Pettigrew's would be a floor under yours—actually, I don't know anything about your life, Pettigrew, so I might be wrong—so he has to think of a fourth-floor memory, which is what Potter feels on a daily basis. Black would be on the second floor—so his memory has to be third-floor quality—and Lupin would be on the first floor. You see?"

"Not really," said Sirius.

"You can't have happiness without bad memories, which is probably the most sentimental thing I'll ever say. Lupin's experienced less good things, which means that his happiest memories stand out to him—and they don't even have to be that happy to work. His happy memories are incredibly mundane and extremely boring. Children your age don't typically experience fifth-floor memories, but mundane second-floor memories are easy to come by."

"That doesn't make sense," said Remus. "That would mean that my happiest memory—the most amazing thing I've ever experienced—would be a very bad memory for James, wouldn't it?"

"Doesn't it?" said Questus. "I think that the pain and fatigue you experience on a daily basis, along with the constant impending terror of the next full moon, would be enough to create a bad memory for Potter no matter what you're doing."

Remus frowned. "I don't like that."

"'Course you don't. No one does. Life's not fair at all and no one ever claimed it was. No one's inherently better or worse just because they have an easy or hard life. What matters is what you do with what you have. So, Potter: I'd wager that it's going to take a couple of months for you to be able to cast a Patronus. At least. Good luck with that, and don't attempt any more difficult magic until you can do it reliably. If you can't do this spell, you don't have a chance with... anything... harder."

Remus wasn't sure what Questus meant by that, but James nodded. "Fine, John. We got it," he said.

"I'm tired," said Questus suddenly, snapping his fingers. "Everybody get out of my house."

Remus stood up to leave, but Questus called him back. "No, not you, Lupin. I have something to tell you. Everybody else can go."

"Yes, Professor?" said Remus after his friends had gone. Professor Questus held up a finger and leaned further back into the armchair, closing his eyes. A few minutes passed. Remus could hear every sound in the room—his own heart beating, Professor Questus', Werewolf the Cat's... three pairs of lungs... the Muggle electricity whirring in the walls... the birds outside... his friends' voices as they walked across the hill... the breeze...

A few minutes was a long time, and Remus soon started to get a bit uncomfortable. He knew that Questus hadn't fallen asleep—Remus knew what Questus' breathing sounded like when he was asleep from that first December full moon at Hogwarts, and this wasn't it. The silence was becoming less comfortable and more awkward, so Remus spoke up. "It's going to rain," he said softly.

Questus' eyes snapped open. "How do you know?"

"Er... you know. Scent. In the air. It's probably raining at the town already. It'll be moving our way at any moment."

"Then I'd best not keep you long, hm?"

"I don't mind, but my friends might. Or my parents. I think that my parents are afraid of them. My friends, that is."

"Who isn't?"

"You... had something to tell me?"

Long silence. "No. Not really. Go home before it starts to rain."

Remus paused. "Are you certain?"

"Positive. Get out of here."

Remus obeyed. He didn't beat the rain, but—fortunately—his father was very adept at drying charms.

Remus still felt that his friends (and Professor Questus) were keeping a secret from him, but he couldn't for the life of him imagine what it could be.

AN: Chapter 50! We're more than halfway to the end!