Professor Questus had been right—when he was feeling well (and when Remus' wild friends weren't around), he really did all but live at the Lupin household. He usually arrived before Remus even woke up and left—if at all—after Remus was in bed. "Living alone isn't all it's cracked up to be," was Questus' explanation whenever Remus mentioned it. "I like company, depending on the company. Also, I get free food here."

"I need to start making you pay," Remus' mother would always respond. "Room, board, and food, John. Ten quid a day."

"No, thank you," Questus would say. "I'm babysitting your child in return."

Remus would always say, "I'm not a child!" and then Questus would whisper, "Yeah, but don't tell them that. You're getting me free food."

December thirty-first arrived, and Remus was more than a little excited about New Year's. His parents were actually letting him stay up until midnight, which they'd never done when Remus was younger. He sat on the couch for hours and hours as the sky fell to dusk, writing back and forth with his friends in the enchanted notebook. "This is the first time I've done this," he remarked to Professor Questus between jabs at Sirius' newfound obsession with strawberry punch.

"Not even last year?" said Questus. "I would have thought that you rang in the new year last year with the other Gryffindors. They had a bit of a party, if I remember correc—oh, right. Last year there was a full moon on the thirty-first, wasn't there?"

"Yep," said Remus. "Daresay I was making more noise than the Gryffindors were." He glanced at his parents out of the corner of his eye. It was still a bit uncomfortable being so nonchalant about werewolves around them, but they only gave him a shaky smile and nodded encouragingly. He figured they felt the same way as he did.

"What are you doing in that notebook, love?" asked Remus' mum, and Remus wondered if she was genuinely curious or just wanted to change the subject. "You've been writing in it a lot."

"Talking to your friends, aren't you?" said Questus.

Remus froze. "How did you know that? I meant to keep the notebook a secret."

"It's obvious. You keep smiling. No one smiles that much when doing homework, not even you. And Potter clearly has enough money for charmed notebooks—so does Black. Besides, I figured you didn't have enough energy to switch the quill back and forth when you and Potter wrote me that letter few months ago."

"Yeah, you're right," said Remus, sort of relieved that he didn't have to keep that secret anymore. He supposed he never did in the first place, but it had felt right—like it wasn't his secret to tell—but honestly, he wasn't too upset at this development. "James' family is having a big party, and James and Sirius and Peter are all there taking photos and bothering party guests. I've gotten a lot of stories and pictures."

Remus' father frowned. "Did you want... to go? If all your friends are there, I mean."

"Do I look like a party person to you, Dad?" Remus laughed. "I went to the Slug Club party last year, though. All my friends did, but none of them are invited this year—apparently they caused too much trouble, and Professor Slughorn wants to wait until next year when they're 'more mature'. Anyway, I hated it, so I'm not keen on another party."

"Noise and food interfere with the enhanced senses?" asked Questus, eyebrows raised high.

Remus nodded. "Er... yeah... and Newt Scamander was there. I'm afraid we didn't really get on. I mean, he was nice, but it was very awkward, and—"

"What?" Remus' father nearly dropped his coffee. "You're joking."

"Newt Sca—he's the one who founded the Werewolf Registry?" said Remus' mum. "Remus—"

"He was actually pretty nice; he reminded me a bit of James. Slughorn introduced us—I don't think he knows that the Werewolf Registry is a bad thing—and then Scamander told me that he wasn't a party person. He released a couple of Pixies as a distraction, and then we hid in a broom cupboard."

Remus' father didn't look amused nor excited about this particular development. "Does he... know?" he asked, and then, perhaps in an attempt to talk more about werewolves (they'd been trying; they really had), he added, "About your lycanthropy, I mean."

"Yes, I think. Somehow. But he won't tell anyone."

Remus' father still didn't look happy. "Remus! Why didn't you tell us about this? That's a big deal! That man forced every single law-abiding werewolf in Britain into compliance with stupid Ministry laws... he's not sworn to secrecy... he could ruin your life..."

"You didn't tell me about this, either," said Questus, evidently amused. "Don't worry, Scamander won't say a thing. I've met him. He likes werewolves—feels awful about what the Registry's become. You remember the Global Wizarding War, don't you, Mr. Lupin? Checks on werewolves were necessary, and it was a good idea. It's not anymore, but it was."

"It never was," said Remus' father stiffly.

"You supported the idea at the time, did you not?"

"I was very young at the time."

"But you supported it when you started working at the Ministry?"

Remus' father went silent. Yes, he'd supported it, and the entire Lupin family knew it. He'd supported it to the point of arguing that the Ministry needed to crack down on werewolf identification measures—in front of a werewolf—before calling said werewolf soulless and evil—and, obviously, that hadn't gone over too well. Remus had been bitten that night. The Lupin family could talk about werewolves in front of each other now, but they could not discuss this particular incident. Remus' father was guilty and embarrassed, and Remus still felt all squinchy on the insides when he thought about that night. Nope, that subject would remain carefully avoided, because there was no sense in bringing up something so awful when it did not need to be brought up.

Questus didn't know about any of that, though, so Remus stepped in to avoid any further embarrassment. "Even I support the idea of it," he said. "Werewolf identification, I mean. Just not... the execution of the idea." Remus winced. Execution had not been a great choice of words. "It's good in theory, but it's impractical. The ones who don't Register are the problem, not the ones who do."

"Exactly," said Questus. "But just because Scamander is incapable of thinking into the future doesn't mean that he hates werewolves."

Remus nodded earnestly. "He apologized about three times, Dad. And then he told me that he wouldn't tell anyone about me. I just wish I knew... how he knew. He knew I didn't like him, but..."

Questus laughed. "That's probably enough to give it away. Everyone likes Newt Scamander."

"I don't," said Remus' father stubbornly. "But I'm glad he apologized."

There was a long moment of silence, and Remus filled it by looking back down at the notebook. "Look, here's a photograph of Peter," he said cheerfully. "Oh, it looks like James dumped punch all over him... that was unkind."

"Your friends aren't usually," said Questus.

"It's okay, Peter's laughing."

There was another long moment of silence.

"Are you feeling okay?" said Remus' mum worriedly. "It's late..."

"Mum, how long do you think I stay up in the dormitory with my friends? Trust me, this isn't the first time I've stayed up this late."

She laughed. "That's a bit bold of you, telling your own mother that you ignore curfew."

"And your former professor," added Questus.

"We'd better write Dumbledore and tell him to give Remus a detention," quipped Remus' dad.

"He'll probably give me lines," sighed Remus. "I must not have fun. I must not have fun. I must not have fun."

"Speaking of having fun," said Professor Questus. "Your kid can cast a Patronus, Mr. Lupin, did you know?"

"What?" said Remus' father, dropping his coffee for real this time. "Oh, Flitterblooms. Evanesco. Are you serious?"

"As death itself."

"Corporeal?"

"Not yet, but he's only ever tried once."

"I did it on the first try," boasted Remus.

"Holy Hippogriffs."

Questus grinned. Remus got the feeling that Questus always welcomed an opportunity to show off, even if it was showing off indirectly by showcasing his teaching abilities. "Want to try again, Lupin?"

"Er, sure. I think that my wand is upstairs, though."

"I'll get it," said Remus' mum.

Questus held up his hand. "No, you won't. Your son is perfectly capable of fetching his own wand."

"But he's..."

"Recovered from the last full moon, Mrs. Lupin. Go fetch your wand, Lupin." Ah, bad choice of words. Remus didn't like it when people asked to him to fetch things. Professor Questus must have noticed the look on his face, because he rolled his eyes and said, "Kindly retrieve your wand from upstairs."

"Okay," said Remus, going upstairs, finding his wand, and going back downstairs to the sitting room. "Er... Expecto Patronum," he said, and a very small wisp emitted from his wand. Remus sighed, frustrated. "Why didn't it work like it did last time?"

"Because you're underestimating the spell—probably because it worked last time. I wouldn't get discouraged if I were you. Even experienced wizards have to try to cast this spell multiple times before anything happens. It's very advanced magic. Try again."

Remus scrunched up his eyes and thought of his friends. "Expecto Patronum," he said. Another shield, big and glowing. He grinned as he watched it for a second, and then let it dematerialize as he tucked his wand in his pocket.

"That's very impressive," said his father, smiling more widely than he had all day.

"Explain?" asked Remus' mum.

Remus' father was all too happy to explain. "The Patronus is one of the most difficult spells possible. In order to cast it, one has to be very happy."

"Oh," she cried, "that's wonderful!"

Remus grinned. "I know I'm wonderful; you don't have to tell me... Oh, it's ten minutes till midnight!"

The Lupins (and Questus) watched the clock, waiting and chatting, until it hit eleven-fifty-nine. They stopped talking and waited with bated breath... the minute hand inched towards twelve... and then...

"Happy New Year," said Remus' father.

Silence.

Remus sighed. "That was anticlimactic."

"What did you expect, confetti?" said Questus.

"Kind of, yeah. Or fireworks. Or... I dunno..."

Suddenly, Remus heard someone clearing his throat. Questus had heard it, too: they both turned immediately to face the fireplace, and James Potter's face glowed from within the flames. "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" he shouted, and Remus covered his ears.

"Ouch," he commented, but he was smiling broadly. "James! Happy New Year!"

"How's your New Year been? Let me guess: you've been sitting at home writing to us and reading poetry and drinking tea. Oh! Hi, John!"

"Good morning, Potter."

James laughed. "Good morning. Since it's twelve am. That's a good one. Sirius wants to say hello too, but Pete's too scared to stick his head in a fire, even though he's a wizard and has seen his parents doing it all his life."

"Mother doesn't use Floo often," Remus heard Peter protest.

"Don't care, Peter. Sirius! Wait, where's Sirius? Oh, he's down by the punch again. He's on his fifteenth cup, I think."

"Fourth!" called Sirius.

"Seventh. I've been counting," said Peter.

"I should probably go stop him," said James with a massive eyeroll. "Bye, Remus. Happy New Year." James' face disappeared, and Remus turned to beam at his parents.

"That was nice of him, to say hello," said Remus' mum. She stretched and yawned. "All in all, this has been a very nice New Year's Eve, hm?"

"I... it was better than last year, at least," Remus said. His mum paused, as if trying to decide whether he was being facetious or simply self-pitying. "I'm joking," added Remus. "Well, I'm not joking. I'm completely serious; this was a lot better than last year. Er... what did you all do last year? Anything special while I was gone?"

"We worry far too much about you on full moons to have much of a good time," said Remus' mum. "But we did try."

"I was sleeping," said Professor Questus, shrugging. "Slughorn tried to organize a staff party, but I didn't go. Don't know if anyone else did. Dumbledore might have. He might've been the only one. They probably sang songs and played board games, just the two of them."

"You should go to bed, honey," Remus' mum told Remus. "Happy 1973."

"It doesn't feel a thing like 1972," said Remus, and it really didn't.

As he lay in bed that night, he thought about 1972—there had been highs and lows, for sure. He'd rung in the new year as a murderous beast and left it as a person. He'd started January in first year and ended it halfway through his second. He'd started with a competent Defense teacher and ended with Pensley. He'd started with Professor Questus as his teacher and ended it with Professor Questus as his... he didn't even know. What was Professor Questus? He was kind of like a weird uncle/roommate/family friend/pen-pal, Remus decided. It was a little strange, thinking about all he had now that he didn't have a mere year ago. His friends knew about him now, and they liked him no matter what. His family was willing to talk and joke about werewolves with him now. He could write to Professor Questus whenever he wanted.

He almost felt normal.

No doubt about it—this was going to be a wonderful year. Remus could feel it. 1973 was going to be the best year that Remus had ever had. For the few minutes he had left before he went to sleep, he didn't fear anything in the world—indeed, all of his worries had gone away with the passing of 1972, and he was sure that nothing bad would happen to him ever again.

AN: I'm not a fan of this chapter, but it picks up soon—I promise!