"All good?" Remus' father asked, gripping Remus' shoulders with one hand and wordlessly unlocking the door with his wand. Remus groaned a bit and clung to his arm, and he stumbled through the doorway, his massive headache growing more intense with each step. He collapsed onto the couch, exhausted, and drew in a deep breath that hurt his lungs immensely.

"Hi, Professor," he mumbled, and then he grabbed the knit blanket on the back of the couch and wrapped it around his shaking shoulders. His mother sat beside him and rubbed his back, and Remus sighed. "It was a long night."

Questus, who was sitting on the armchair with Werewolf the Cat, eyed Remus curiously. "I can tell," he said. "All right?"

"No."

"Thought as much. What happened?"

"It's late," said Remus' father, taking off his hat and hanging it on the coatrack. "It's later than the last Werewolf Registry ran, even, though I suspect some of that is because of how slowly your mother was driving so as not to disturb your head. You should go to bed, Remus... I'll Apparate you to Hogsmeade tomorrow morning so that we don't have to drive, but we'll still have to be there by seven-twenty-five at the latest. I want you getting as much sleep as possible, since the full moon is a little more than a week away..."

Remus groaned. "Dad, you're usually on my side. What happened to Mum being the overprotective one?"

"I'm not overprotective," grouched Remus' mum.

"No one is overprotective," said Remus' father. "We're just trying to make sure you're safe."

With much difficulty, Remus shrugged off the blanket, stood up, and went to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of water. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I'm not getting to sleep anytime soon." He took a sip. That felt good—he hadn't realized how thirsty he was until he started drinking. And his throat hurt so much. He finished off the glass and poured himself another one. "I have a terrible headache," he admitted between sips. "Hurts really badly."

"Yes, I think I have an extra potion somewhere for the pain," said Remus' father, walking over to Remus briskly and putting the back of his hand against Remus' forehead. "I'm sorry, Remus. That was the worst the Registry has ever been."

"I've been in close proximity to lots of children for the past year and a half, and they expected me to leave after only one year. So it makes sense that..."

"It doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense at all. You have a fever, I think."

"Why would I have a...?"

"Yes, why would he have a fever?" said Questus. "What happened? I wasn't under the impression that anything happened besides sleeping on Ministry benches and some uncomfortable questions."

"It usually is like that," said Remus' father. "And it was this time, for the majority of it. But..."

"Veritaserum," said Remus. "They don't do it every time. They'd only given it to me once before, and I was really young."

"Your first time at the Registry," said Remus' father quietly.

Remus nodded. "Right. Well, it doesn't have great effects on werewolves. Contains very small... very small, mind you... traces of aconite. Still affects me, though. Ended up nearly coughing my lungs out. I don't remember the first time being this bad."

"They gave you significantly more this time," said Remus' father. He was staring at a wall, and Remus couldn't tell whether the emotion in his eyes was guilt, anger, or something else entirely. "Said something about werewolves being able to resist the normal amount, but that's rubbish. Remus is by far the most susceptible person to Veritaserum that I've ever seen. It's horrible, and it would be horrible even without the aconite. He says everything that comes to mind, no filter."

"Like me?" said Questus dryly.

"No. Less insults. More complaining."

"Oh. Well, that's far less interesting." Questus frowned. "I don't quite understand, I'm afraid. Veritaserum isn't often used by the Ministry, mostly because it's not viable proof of anything. People can get past it far too easily, so it's really only used in a pinch. Did they have any reason to believe that Lupin had broken the law?"

"None," said Remus' mum. "Apparently the fact that he's constantly around children is enough for them to suspect that he's..." She closed her eyes and sighed. "Well, to be honest, I don't know what they think he's doing. He's twelve."

"How long was I ill last time?" said Remus, drinking a third cup of water. His throat was still scratchy.

"You were already ill from the bite, love, so there's no way to know. Honestly, Remus? I suspect you'll miss school tomorrow, too. You can stay up until the effects wear off tonight and then take a nap tomorrow. Does that sound okay?"

"No!" said Remus. "No, I can't miss school tomorrow."

"Why not? I know you can catch up..."

"I don't want to!"

"That's a stupid reason," said Professor Questus, and Remus liked him less. "Stay home, Lupin. You're already far ahead of the rest of your class."

"Not you, too," grumbled Remus. "I can go to school. I can handle it."

"That's what you said when you fell asleep in my class on the October full moon last year," said Questus, grinning.

Remus groaned and finished off his fifth cup of water. "You gave me detention. I think that more than makes up for it. We don't have to mention that anymore."

"Oh, please. That was barely detention. My point is, there's no sense in going to class when you'll probably be too ill to pay attention as it is. Besides, what will your classmates think when you disappear on Werewolf Registry day and then come back obviously under the effects of wolfsbane, hm?"

"Is it obvious? I don't think it's obvious."

"It's obvious to anyone who's read anything about the topic. Your throat is swollen, your eyes are red, you didn't walk in a straight line when you came in—in fact, you were barely walking at all—and your hands are shaking. They'll either think that you've got a horrible wizarding disease, they'll know the truth... or they'll think you've just been purchasing shady drugs from Knockturn Alley. None of the above are good outcomes." He shrugged. "Besides, your parents will worry. Do you really want to be answering dramatic letters for a week?"

Remus sighed. "I suppose not. I'll stay home, but just one day. I won't be able to get to sleep for a couple of hours anyway, I don't think. I'm jittery."

Remus didn't miss the silent thank you that his mother mouthed in Questus' direction, but he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he poured himself a sixth cup of water and wrapped both hands around it securely, terrified of dropping the glass with his shaky hands. He sipped quietly. Questus was still watching him intently, but Remus didn't mind. He was used to that.

"Do you think his classmates will figure it out?" Remus' father asked, brows furrowed deeply. "And... Sirius..."

Remus sat down with a seventh cup of water. "We don't have to be concerned about that anymore, Dad. The ones I care about already know. Sirius already knows."

"Concerned about what?" said Professor Questus.

"Orion Black was working with me this year," Remus said, "which is probably why he was so hard on me—he has a couple of children at Hogwarts whom he wants to protect. He's sworn to secrecy, so he physically cannot tell anyone about me due to the magical binds that he's under, but... he knows who I am now. He doesn't know that I'm close friends with Sirius, but I suspect he's seen me around him before... from the train, perhaps, or maybe from Narcissa; Sirius says she's a bit of a snitch. I'll have to talk to Sirius about that."

"I hate Orion Black," murmured Questus. "You know, I got sacked from the Auror department before coming to teach at Hogwarts specifically for insulting Orion Black... and I don't regret it one bit. Worth it. I'd say all those things to him again if I could."

"How could I forget?" said Remus with a grin. "And I should hope it was worth it. If you hadn't been sacked, you never would have met me."

"Oh, I might have. Werewolves are often in trouble with the Auror department. I might have had to swoop and and save an innocent civilian from your evil clutches."

"I think that's exactly what Orion Black was planning on doing," said Remus. He knew it was a joke, but he couldn't help but be a little bitter. "What was that thing that Orion published in the Prophet earlier this year about werewolves and the like? 'Killed if they pose a threat, and restrained if they do not?' He thinks I pose a threat. He wants me dead."

Questus snorted. "Nothing new. Most of the wizarding population wants you dead, I'm afraid."

Remus' father, however, looked rather stricken. "You read that, Remus? Orion Black's article?"

"Yes. Seemed interesting," said Remus. He wasn't sure if Questus wanted Remus to tell his father that he'd been the one to send it to Remus.

"I sent it to him," said Questus, which answered Remus' question. "Thought he needed to know. I'm sure it didn't bother him too much. He can handle more than you think he can, Mr. Lupin."

It actually had bothered Remus, but he wasn't about to say that. Loads of things that Questus thought that he'd find interesting bothered him. He could handle it, sure... but the words kept echoing through the chambers of his mind whenever he thought of Orion Black. Humanoid monsters. Pretended for far too long. Peacefully reach these ideals... oh, Remus couldn't believe that people were so stupid sometimes... but maybe he was the stupid one? Maybe he really was too dangerous? After all, he'd kill on the full moon without a second thought. He'd murder his friends and family without a scrap of regret. Perhaps he should be "restrained".

"Your thoughts are still easy to read," said Questus, and Remus jumped. "You're already restrained, Lupin. Once a month. Remember?"

"Orion Black means all the time, not just once a month."

"I know what he means, and he's wrong."

"I know that, but..."

"But nothing. He's a slimy storybook villain who happens to be seven players short of a Quidditch team. He's the epitome of uselessness. He's what would happen if a glass of milk was left in the sun for six years. His mere presence would make the brightest optimist unhappy to be alive. He looks in the mirror every morning and sees a dodo bird with the brain of a shriveled pea. He..."

"Wow," said Remus. "Er. I think I get it."

"Do you? I'll go on if you'd like me to."

"Nope. I'm good." Remus took the last sip of his water. He sort of wanted to pour himself another cup, but he figured that seven cups was plenty and forced himself to stop drinking water. "Maybe my friends will write to me more tomorrow," he murmured. "That'll make staying home a bit easier. I hate missing class."

"They wrote to him during their classes today," chuckled Remus' father. "The four of them were writing back and forth nearly all day."

"Not surprised," said Questus. "Couldn't stop talking to each other in my class last year, either."

Remus was beaming. "It was the best Registry I've ever been to, even though I sort of feel like vomiting," he said. "They kept me updated the whole time—apparently, Peeves dropped a book on a boy's head, and the boy fainted! Peeves was in big trouble. McGonagall was shouting at him for ages."

Remus' mum smiled and nodded; she walked over to Remus, took his glass away, and led him back to the couch. "It was worse earlier," she whispered to Questus (as if Remus couldn't hear her, which he definitely could). "The Veritaserum hadn't wore off all the way on the ride home—it was a little rough."

"Apparently, Veritaserum applies to writing, too," said Remus. "I had to stop writing to my friends lest I tell the whole truth about everything, which no one wants to hear, least of all me."

Remus' father nodded. "We couldn't even talk to him. He'd give us a full answer to absolutely everything. I think we got a five-minute speech when we asked him how he was feeling—and the only reason it wasn't longer was because we cut him off."

"I tried to do some homework," said Remus, "but I don't think any of it is unusable. It wasn't very concise, I'm afraid. I mostly just stared out the window; I didn't have any presence of mind at the time, so Mum and Dad told me not to talk because I'd probably regret it later."

Professor Questus snorted. "Clever of them. I suppose you're not a fan of mind-altering potions or spells?"

"No," Remus muttered. "I'm really not. It reminds me too much of what happens on the full moon, you know? Loss of control and reasoning and all that. It was kind of awful. But it wore off in the car."

"You're still a little chattier than normal, but you obviously have control," said Questus. "You should take a cold shower. I'm not a werewolf, but it seemed to help me last time I was recovering."

Remus' father sighed and exchanged a look with both Questus and Remus' mother. "Will a cold bath have the same effect? I'm not sure I trust Remus to stand for long periods of time right now."

"Dad, I'm fine!" said Remus. And then, to change the subject before they started arguing, he asked, "When were you last under Veritaserum, Professor?"

"Don't call me Professor," said Questus. "Auror training. They had to make sure we weren't spies, and they wanted to see which of us had a natural affinity for resisting it, so administering it to all of us was the easy way to kill two birds with one stone. Not many can resist it, but there are a choice few. I might be one of those. Suppose I'll never know, because I didn't change much at all after taking it." He winked at Remus, who laughed. "But Auror training includes mostly anything that could possibly happen to a person so that we're prepared. That includes Veritaserum."

"Bet they don't prepare you for being interrogated and poisoned by Ministry officials," Remus' father grumbled. Remus took that as his cue to go upstairs and take a shower (not a bath), trying very hard not to listen to his parents go into detail about every horrible thing that Orion Black said to him. The Lupins could talk about werewolves in front of each other now, yes, but this was one thing that Remus most certainly did not want to talk about at the moment.

He was still jittery afterwards, but the shower really had helped. His head seemed a little clearer, his eyes didn't look as bloodshot, and he was a lot more steady on his feet. He proceeded to take another shower—hot this time—and the vapor seemed to clear up his throat a little bit. He made his way downstairs, and his parents immediately stopped talking. "Think you're getting to sleep anytime soon?" asked Remus' father.

"No. I'm going to do some homework."

"More? You don't have to, you know..."

"I do. I still don't understand the how the addition of Duo to the end of a spell works."

Professor Questus offered to help, and Remus (with his guidance) managed to finish most of his essays well into the next month—though he was certain that Pensley would assign more later, probably about Shakespeare or something. It was nice, having a real teacher of the subject to whom he could ask practical questions and get practical answers... and it was a very nice break from Pensley, who Remus sometimes wanted to insult just as brutally as Professor Questus had insulted Orion Black.

It was a very long night. Remus stayed up until five am before he finally felt sleepy enough to go up to his room and try to close his eyes for a bit. It took him ages to fall asleep, but finally—finally—he managed it.

Remus woke up the next morning at seven, which meant that he'd only gotten two hours of sleep. He tried to go back to sleep, but he found that he couldn't—so he lied in bed for a bit, fully awake, and listened to the sounds of his parents' snores from the other room. Judging by the scents and sounds in the air, Professor Questus was still downstairs (Remus wondered if Professor Questus ever slept in a bed—his house didn't seem to have a bedroom). He got out of bed, buttoned his shirt, ran his fingers through his hair (it always seemed to be straight when he woke up, unlike James'), and then made his way downstairs as quietly as possible.

Sure enough, Professor Questus was sitting on the armchair with a mug of tea and the Prophet. Werewolf the Cat was lapping up some water in the corner from a small plastic bowl. "Good morning," said Questus, eyebrows raised. "You didn't get much sleep last night, then?"

"I slept fine," said Remus. He grabbed a piece of plain bread for breakfast, but he didn't bother toasting it—he was still rather queasy. "Well, I slept fine for all of two hours," he corrected. "Now I'm awake. I'll take a nap later or something. Get the rest of it out of my system."

"Hm," said Questus, turning back to the Prophet.

"I'm feeling fine."

"I didn't ask."

"Oh." Awkward silence. Remus finished his bread. He knew he should probably get something else—a cup of pumpkin juice, a bit of breakfast cereal—but he thought that he might be sick if he did. "Anything in the news?"

"No. Are you planning on reading it?"

"Probably," said Remus. "Sometimes I save them for the full moon and then scour them thoroughly."

Questus snorted. "Feel as if that's all I'm good for these days—scouring newspapers thoroughly. Are you nauseous?"

"Yes, kind of."

"That's odd. I don't remember Veritaserum making me nauseous."

"Well, you're not a werewolf."

Another snort. "Fair point. You know, are you certain it was legal to behave as Orion Black did? You could get him into a lot of trouble if it wasn't. I know magical law front to back, and if nothing's changed since my Auror training, then giving Veritaserum to minors without proof of lawbreaking and consent of the guardians is strictly forbidden."

"I'm not a minor," said Remus bitterly. He remembered when this had all been explained to his parents, and he could still remember how angry they'd been. "Not according to Ministry law, that is. 'Minor' is a term for human children. Since the Registry is in the Beast division, I'm technically no better than any other magical creature when I'm there, and the term 'minor' doesn't apply to creatures. There are no rules against using Veritaserum on werewolves."

"Hm. Well, what about mishandling? Attempted murder? Neglect? All of those terms apply to Beasts as well as Beings."

"It wasn't attempted murder; that small of an amount of aconite wasn't likely to kill me. The others are subjective—especially since Orion Black did technically have reason to believe that I was a danger—and besides, he's a respected government figure. They'd sooner condemn a werewolf than they would him, wouldn't they?"

"I know," said Questus, heaving a sigh. "I just really want him out of a job. He's an idiot. How'd the potion affect you? Outright, I mean."

"Er... I was coughing a lot. I thought for sure I was going to be sick. My skin was all prickly. Everything sort of felt like it was burning. My eyes were watering something awful..."

"You were crying?"

"No! I wasn't. My eyes were watering."

"You were crying."

"Well... maybe a little... but not much. My eyes were definitely watering." Remus grinned faintly, and then he sighed. "I couldn't breathe very well, but the potion was forcing me to answer the questions... there wasn't anything I could really do about it. I don't remember much. I do remember that Mum was furious and Dad had to take her out of the room. She doesn't understand wizarding customs all the time."

"This isn't wizarding customs, Lupin. This is abuse."

"Nah, I was okay."

"You clearly aren't, seeing as you got two hours of sleep last night. Administering Veritaserum to werewolves should be illegal. This is extremely disturbing, especially since you're only twelve years old and haven't done anything wrong."

Remus smirked. "I thought you said that 'the Dark Arts wait for no one', even the young and innocent. You say it constantly, if I remember correctly. The fact that I'm an innocent twelve-year-old means nothing."

That earned him a laugh. "I'm glad that you listen, at least—it's more than I can say about your friends. You're right. I did say that, and I stand by it. But it's a sad day when the Ministry of Magic is considered 'the Dark Arts', is it not? They're the ones meant to protect the general public from danger."

"Technically, they're not the Dark Arts—I am. And I think that's exactly what they're doing. They think that, by controlling the likes of me, they're protecting the general public from danger."

"No. They're not, and I think that most of them know it full well. They have plenty of more pertinent things that they could be focusing on. Like other werewolves who are actually dangerous and are not constantly under the watchful eye of Albus Dumbledore, who is indisputably the most powerful wizard in the world. Like Fenrir Greyback. You know, the Ministry hasn't done a thing about Greyback for years. He's out there, roaming around, looking for victims, following the Dark Lord's bidding... and the Ministry just turns a blind eye."

Remus did not want to talk about Fenrir Greyback. He definitely, definitely did not. But... "Why?" he asked, against his better judgement.

"They can't do anything, can they? No one knows where he is. He's far too powerful. He's quick. And the Ministry won't put any of their own lives in danger, even those—like the Aurors—whose literal job is to risk their lives." Questus shook his head. "They need a plan, they say. But they never actually make one, because acknowledging that Greyback is a threat would be publicizing their failures. No, they want to keep up the public image of a shining, capable Ministry, even though it's not always true. And besides, why would they waste time on Greyback? After all, anyone he bites is automatically a monster themselves, so there's no love lost there. The best thing that they could do at present would be to support his victims, but... they're idiots."

Remus nodded meekly. The phrase his victims was echoing in Remus' head mercilessly; he stumbled to the cupboard and took out the kettle. "I'm making tea," he said. "Do you want any?"

"Sure. Hey, by the way..." Remus froze, terrified that Questus was going to question him about Greyback. "Keep all this in mind when you're looking at world domination. After cat food prices. The Ministry really could use some reforms."

"Noted," said Remus, trying for a smile. "Did my parents tell Madam Pomfrey what happened? She'll never let me out of the Hospital Wing."

"Probably. I know they told Dumbledore, so I'm sure she knows by now nevertheless. But you'll be in the Hospital Wing in a little more than a week anyway, hm? Full moon and all that. Did you write to your friends and let them know where you'll be today?"

"Right!" said Remus. He dashed upstairs to notify his friends of his current state... but he definitely didn't want to give them too much information. He'd do that later.

Probably.

AN: I forgot to mention it last Thursday, but June eighth was the one-year anniversary of when I started posting Of Marauders and Monsters (the first installment in this series) to this site! I can't believe it's been a whole year already. Here's to many more!