Author's note: 75 chapters and you're all still entertaining my emotional support Everyone Lives!AU? Thanks, y'all! I thought I would give you all something a little chunkier to celebrate. Shout-out to past me for mentioning a court case in one of the very early chapters and only fleshing that out now. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the canon, world, and characters portrayed below and you can tell I'm not J.K. Rowling because #transrights

Hogwarts: Assignment #12, Photography Task #3 Write about a hard-earned victory

Content Warnings: Canon-compliant prejudice; references canon torture

You Win Some

"It's still just an idea," Remus said.

"It sounds like a really good one," Hermione said. She kept peeling the potatoes Molly had set them to task on for Easter dinner. "The oldest reference to lycanthropy as an illness predates the foundation of St. Mungo's by centuries—I believe it's in a Roman text. And since lycanthropy is undeniably an illness, it should be as protected by the same confidentiality laws as any other magical illness."

"Exactly," Remus said, glad that she'd finished his thought. She really was the brightest witch of her generation. He finished peeling another potato and dropped it in a sink of cold water. "There are quite a few cases to be made against the werewolf registry, I have endless complaints against it. But this one is interesting because of the precedents it works with—and the one it would set. I have great difficulty imagining the Wizengamot ruling against confidentiality and privacy in a medical setting."

"I do too," Hermione said. She dumped another peeled potato in the sink. "Well, if you and your friends decide to bring it to the courts, let me know. I'll speak on it."

"Oh, Hermione…"

"What?" she asked, looking over to face him. "Plaintiffs aren't allowed to defend themselves in the Wizengamot. You'd need someone to speak on the case for you, and by the time I graduate I'll have earned my Magical Law Certificate."

"That's very generous, but that's not why I brought this up with you," Remus said.

"I know, we were just talking," Hermione said. "And so I'm just offering."

She got a little bit harsher with the potato peeler then and chewed on her lip.

"That's very kind," Remus said. "But it would most likely take years for a case to be heard anyways…"

"Not if a case can be made that delaying a case increases harm," Hermione said. "The Wizengamot rushes cases like that."

Damn. She was right.

"Were you considering going into magical law, Hermione?" Remus asked. "Once you graduate, I mean."

"I don't know," Hermione said. "All I know is that I want to do some good in the world."

"You've already done a great deal of that," Remus said.

Hermione turned towards him and wiped her hands on her jeans before rolling up the sleeve of her sweater. He was shocked by the scar he saw there—no, not a scar, the word etched into her skin. Mudblood.

"Bellatrix Lestrange did that to me," Hermione said. She spoke evenly, but Remus could tell from the look in her eyes—and the fact that, come to think of it, he hadn't seen her wearing short-sleeved clothing since the trio had returned from their Horcrux Hunt—that the issue was raw.

"I'm so sorry," Remus said.

"I won't pretend to know what it's like to be a werewolf," Hermione said. "But I do know that as long as some people are considered wrong for something that they can't control, there's space for all of us to be persecuted."

"You always were wise beyond your years," Remus said. Hermione rolled down her sleeves.

"Nobody's going to want to speak on a case about lycanthropy in the courts," Hermione said plainly. "The same way that nobody wants to go after the Snatchers now. It's messy and it's marginal to most people. But I'll do it."

"You're young and you have a bright future," Remus said.

"Is that your way of telling me that I'm inexperienced?" Hermione asked.

"Not at all. It's my way to remind you to consider the long-term impact of this on your career," Remus said.

"I told you I want to do some good in the world," Hermione said.

Remus started peeling his next potato and chewed on his lip. Andrew, Abigail, and him had spoken about this more than once—about what a big step it would be for the werewolf registry to disappear. How much easier it would be for werewolves to get hired and work and make friends and live their lives without the whole world being able to see and define them by one single part… Not to mention that if they brought this to court, if they set a legal precedent that lycanthropy needed to be treated like any other condition, they could start negotiating care. Maybe start creating a world where Wolfsbane potion was widely available. And a court case was something tangible they could bring against the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures—Remus wouldn't dream of reforming that absolute clusterfuck, but things could be… well, maybe they could be better. They would at least have a tool to explain why it was terrible, at least.

And, since they were talking about a court, maybe there would be a settlement. Remus was lucky; Dora worked, he stayed at home to take care of Teddy, and their Orders of Merlin had come with a fair amount of galleons. But for Andrew, whose family still wasn't speaking to him, or Abigail who had just reemerged into the world after spending ten years underground with Greyback? For the other werewolves in Great Britain that Remus knew or knew of, or those that he didn't know because they were in hiding? None of those things were negligible. They could be life changing.

If they won, of course. If they took it to court. It was difficult to imagine a world where the Wizengamot would hear out a group of werewolves, let alone agree with them. But still… something had to be done, didn't it? And Remus was the first known werewolf to have received an Order of Merlin. He was in the public eye one way or another, and frankly his position was not as terrible as it might be. This might be an opportunity…

"I'll keep that in mind," Remus said finally.

"I think it's batshit," Abigail ruled. They were at their usual spot, two days after the full moon when they always met up to check on each other in a dirt cheap diner in Essex. Her curly hair was twisted up on top of her head, showing off a particularly ugly scratch on her neck that had yet to heal. It didn't stop her from digging into her French toast.

"I know it is," Remus sighed. His appetite hadn't returned yet, so he was nursing a cup of coffee. Teddy was sitting on the bench next to him, sleeping in a Muggle car seat.

"Now, now—I didn't say I disagreed. Batshit things happen all the time." Abigail shrugged. She doused the remainder of her syrup on her plate. "At least this way, if the Ministry decides to keep acting like shitheads, they'd have to stand up and say so in a court. That's something, isn't it?"

"That's if we lose," Andrew said.

"Which we might," Abigail said. "People don't like it when werewolves win. That usually means the fairy tales end badly."

"It could also set a dangerous precedent," Remus said. "That warrants discussion as well. If we lose and they rule that lycanthropy doesn't need to be treated like any other magical illness, what would be the consequences? Does that mean the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures finally decides to treat us like Beasts instead of sometimes considering us Beings? Do we end up getting flagged as dangerous werewolves and get the Werewolf Capture Unit sent after us?"

"Not you, you're married to an Auror," Abigail said.

"This is about all of us," Remus said. "And others who aren't even at this table—people who haven't been bitten yet, even."

"Greyback alone bit almost two people a month during the Wizarding War," she said quietly. "Before I even left. There are more of us out there than there might have ever been."

Andrew put down his fork and pushed his plate of eggs and sausage away.

"My appetite's spoiled," Andrew said.

Remus took another sip of coffee.

"I'm saying that this is worth doing," Abigail said. "I mean, the three of us, we've already been fucked over. Everyone knows our werewolf status; we're already registered, our families have already decided what to do about us one way or another. Greyback's already ruined my life."

"Don't say that," Remus said.

Abigail waved her hand at him dismissively.

"It means that we could really… we could make a difference," she said. "For the people that come after us."

Andrew stared at his hands.

"Imagine if we could actually… if we actually managed to take down the werewolf registry," he said. "That would be… that would be…"

"It would be brilliant," Remus said.

"So brilliant that we've got to try," Andrew said.

"Andrew?" Remus said breathlessly, very conscious of the baby vomit on his shoulder when he opened the door. "What's…"

"My family sent me a letter," he said, pale.

"Oh…" Remus said. Andrew hadn't heard from a single one of them since he'd been bitten—not his wife, his parents, his siblings, nieces and nephews… It had been almost three years.

"They read the paper and saw… There were pictures of us in there, the pictures that the Department took when they signed us onto the registry. They read about the trial, saw that the Wizengamot set a date."

"And?" Remus asked.

"My mother asked me to drop it before I ruined the family's reputation even more," Andrew said hoarsely.

"I'm so sorry," Remus said.

"I can't do it," Andrew said. "I'm sorry, tell Abigail—tell Hermione—I can't do it. I can't go up there and talk about everything and..."

"Come inside," Remus said.

"No," Andrew said. "No, Remus, don't talk me out of it—I'm backing out, I have to..."

"I'm not going to, I'm going to make you tea," Remus said. "Because whether you drop this case or not your family's gone, but I'm your friend. One way or another."

Andrew burst into tears, then.

Somewhere in the flat, Teddy did the same.

"You know Kingsley can't talk to you about the case," Sirius said as they walked. He had taken control of Teddy's stroller as they made their way to the park. "Because of his whole 'being the Minister for Magic' thing."

"I know," Remus said, hands deep in his pocket. "And I hope he knows that I won't hold him responsible for how the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures handles this; I understand that he's only one person."

"I'll make sure he knows," Sirius said. "Just like I was told to make sure you know that he wishes you good luck."

Remus smiled a little bit.

"We have a meeting this Sunday, to rehearse with Hermione ahead of opening statements," Remus said. He was going to hem a set of dress robes for Andrew to wear while they talked strategy, yet again, ahead of opening statements. They needed all the practise they could to find a polished, palatable way to talk about lycanthropy in front of a group of wizards. The first few waves in The Daily Prophet had not been kind; Remus had been lucky that he had Dora and Sirius to take the paper out of his hands and tuck it away when it was too much.

"I'd be more worried about it if she wasn't up there with you lot," Sirius confessed.

"Me too," Remus confessed. That didn't mean he wasn't still worried sick, but so be it.

Hermione shut the door behind her as she joined them, wearing the grey pinstriped suit she'd worn to court.

"And?" Abigail asked, twisting her hands together. "Is it over yet?"

"Not quite," Hermione said. "I was in a meeting with representatives from the Department. They want to offer you a settlement out of court."

"Is that good or bad?" Abigail asks.

"It means they don't think they can win," Remus guessed.

"Not easily, anyways," Hermione said. They had been in court for the last ten days; it was becoming long, exhausting, and The Daily Prophet was having the time of its life reporting on the issue and printing letters and opinions from its readership. The Department was not looking good, even to people who weren't losing sleep over werewolf-related issues. "They might simply want to control how and when this ends. Maybe they want to cut their losses since The Prophet has not been kind to them. Regardless, I don't know if you'll agree to their deal."

"What is it?" Abigail asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"They offered compensation to each of you individually, and they have offered to simply argue that the werewolf registry is a public safety tool," Hermione said.

"That's been their position for years," Remus said. "I don't understand how that's a change."

"They're willing to repeal the Umbridge-era policies that make it publically available," Hermione said. "It would be for internal use only, and for Auror use if deemed necessary. The Wizengamot made the registry private at the start of the trial; it could stay that way after."

"But there would still be a registry," Abigail said. "The Ministry would still be counting us and tagging us like dogs."

Hermione nodded.

"That seems the most likely outcome at this point," Hermione said.

"Well then why would we settle?" Andrew asked. "I mean, if we have a chance of actually winning this whole thing. Why not fight this until the end and try?"

"Because if we settle out of court, I can negotiate better compensation for the three of you—and, by extension, any other werewolf who comes forward and makes a successful claim that they've been harmed by the registry," Hermione said.

"So all of us," Abigail said. "Great."

"How much?" Andrew asked. "What? It's worth knowing, isn't it?"

"Remus and I found a precedent in the 1930s for a wizard whose giant-borne syphilis was accidentally disclosed by a Healer," Hermione said. "If we adjust for inflation, that would be about 2,000 Galleons."

"Two thousand… each? Oh, holy shit," Abigail gasped.

"They'll never agree to that," Andrew said. "That's a lot of money. A lot of money to a lot of people they don't like…"

"They might if they want to save face and avoid fighting the trial to its bitter end," Hermione said. "If they want to avoid facing the loss of the werewolf registry completely."

"Two thousand Galleons can change a lot of lives," Abigail said.

Remus had heard the number before but he still had trouble wrapping his head around it. That was more money than he had made and spent and dreamed of in his entire adult life. What that money could do for Teddy, in case something ever happened… it was an unthinkable amount, and it would have been unthinkable to him five years ago when he had been living like… well, barely living.

"But we want the registry gone," Andrew said. "That's why we're doing this."

"We might not get that," Abigail said.

"So we take the next best thing?" Andrew asked.

"If the next best thing is privacy and two thousand Galleons in damages, yeah," Abigail said. "That's not nothing."

She was right; it was not. If he had two thousand Galleons, his son would never have to worry about anything. It would take so much pressure off of Dora, who was their family's breadwinner.

"But wait, if we settle out of court the decision isn't legal, is it?" Andrew asked. "I mean, it won't have the rule of law or whatever."

"No," Hermione said. "It would be an internal policy change."

"Could we make it part of the terms of the settlement?" Remus asked.

"Maybe; if they would agree to it," Hermione said. "The Wizengamot could only enforce the terms of the settlement—and even then, you would have to return to the court and argue that the Department was not fulfilling its obligations."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Abigail said, grabbing at her hair, which had fallen from the chignon it had started the day in.

"We would always run the risk of the Department finding a new way to screw us," Remus said. He could imagine it now—exploiting loopholes, delegating to other branches of the Ministry that wouldn't be held by the terms of their settlement... "That's what they've always done. That's why we came here.."

"Yes," Hermione said. "That's the risk of settling. The risk of staying in court until the end is that the Wizengamot could rule against you and you could all walk away with nothing."

"Well fuck," Abigail said.

"Yeah," Andrew said, sinking back into his chair. "Fuck."

"Fuck," Remus added under his breath. He rubbed at his eyes and ached for Teddy; he'd never spent this much time away from his son.

"When do we need to decide?" Andrew said.

"Before the court reconvenes tomorrow morning," Hermione said. "It's up to you three. I can prepare to either negotiate a settlement or get back in the courtroom and keep going like we'd planned. I'll do it either way."

Remus nodded and leaned back in his seat. Now that he'd started thinking of Teddy he couldn't stop. Teddy, who would always be half-werewolf to the world whether or not he transformed. Remus needed that to mean something better than what it meant now. Something decent. And this was bigger than Teddy too; this would affect people the three of them had never met… people who could have better, easier lives than the three of them had had since they'd been bitten.

"We should make a list," Remus said, rubbing his eyes. "A list of pros and cons, a list of risks, a list of possible consequences."

"This is going to be a long night," Andrew sighed.

"Fuck," Abigail reiterated with a sigh.

He joined Abigail on the balcony.

"Your wife said I could smoke outside," she explained hastily.

"Of course," he said, sitting on the ground next to her. His back immediately protested, which was just a reminder that the full moon was approaching. Hopefully the court proceedings would wrap up before then; Remus wasn't sure if the Wizengamot would adjourn for a trio of werewolves to recover before testifying further.

"How are you holding up?" she asked.

"I'm okay," Remus said. "You?"

"I'm on my third pack today," Abigail said. She took another drag of her cigarette and offered it to him.

"No thank you. I quit a few years ago," he said.

"Figures. You were always better at quitting things that weren't good for you than I was," she said with a grin. Remus smiled at that, even if the reference was far from happy. She'd broken his heart when she'd gone to Greyback's pack when they were younger. For the first time in his life he'd had a werewolf friend, someone who could truly understand what it was like. But then she'd made choices he couldn't understand and gone where Remus couldn't follow. She'd disappeared on him.

"I think we're past that now," he reminded her.

"I know," Abigail said. "Not that you could tell, from the Department fucking cross-examining me like that…"

"That was rough," Remus said. "I'm sorry."

Abigail shrugged, but he knew it had shaken her. It was why he'd brought her home for dinner. Being cross-examined about her time with Greyback had been horrific and she'd had to go into the gritty details of it all, but the Wizengamot had to hear it. The people who could change the structures of the world needed to know just how radicalizing prejudice could be. They needed to see the writing on their walls and the blood on their hands if they were going to clean it all up. It was still a big ask.

"I know what I did," she said. "I'm not proud of it, but I just… I know why I did it. I did it because I was tired of the Wizarding World, I was tired of losing. You can only go so long without winning some in life, you know?"

"I know," Remus said. He had essentially won the lottery, with Teddy and Dora, but who knew where he would be without them.

"That's why I want to win this so bad that it hurts," she said softly. "So that some people out there win some too."

Thinking back to his year underground with the werewolves, he could think of others who needed a win too. He was sure Abigail knew more, and knew them better too. So he resolved to just keep her company as she smoked her fourth pack.

He put a hand on Hermione's arm as she riffled through her notes. What for, he didn't know; closing remarks were done, now they were just waiting for the Wizengamot to hear their ruling. Remus did not miss the fact that the Security Witches and Wizards were holding back and keeping protesters silent behind a wall of muffling charms—nor did those charms stop him from reading the signs they held. Don't Protect Predators. The Public Needs To Know. The most common slogan simply read "XXXXX," a reference to their danger classification in Fantastic Beasts. It irked Remus, but he knew that speaking up or making eye contact with the protesters would only make things worse.

"You should know," Remus said quietly, "that however this ends today you have done spectacularly."

She looked up from her notes and her brown eyes softened.

"Why are you saying that?" Hermione asked. "Are you expecting us to lose?"

"I don't know," Remus said.

That was the truth; he didn't know. They'd spent days in court laying their souls bare. Remus had gone over some of the most embarrassing and painful moments of his life—being fired and let go from jobs, being turned away from shops on Diagon Alley, living in absolute poverty, having to give some bureaucrat every intimate detail of his life when registering, having to sit outside St. Mungo's during Dora's meetings with Healers because the hospital had banned werewolves from its premise during the peak of Greyback's terror, being interrogated about Teddy's status by the Department…

Andrew and Abigail had done the same, and every werewolf in Britain could have given similar stories. But the Department had pulled out all the stops, it was bigger and better-funded. Being cross-examined had been painful and difficult and belittling, and he knew that he was handling it better than the other two.

Most importantly, Fenrir Greyback's role in the last Wizarding War was fresh enough to make fearmongering easy. Hermione had argued again and again that Greyback had never bothered registering himself anyways, she had done an incredible job of emphasizing the medical and legal nature of the case and trying to drive the Wizengamot away from the immediate, emotional reaction that werewolves elicited. And her closing speech, pointing out the Ministry's dire need to rehabilitate the relationship it had with werewolves after the radicalizing war? It was incredibly eloquent. But Remus knew that the point, the fear, would stick. This was, after all, an uphill battle one way or the other.

"I don't know," he repeated. "But I know that you did brilliantly, Hermione. Werewolves are supposed to lose, but you put up a fight worth being proud of. I know I am."

She smiled at him slightly.

"You were always the best teacher I ever had," she said. Remus blushed.

"That was years ago," he said. "I take no credit for the witch you became."

"You should," Hermione said. "Because I'm a kinder one than I might have been, if nothing else. I'll feel terrible if you and the others walk away from this empty-handed."

Remus's stomach twisted.

"We might not," he said—trying to sound… well, not confident, but neutral at least. He knew that none of them regretted their choice to turn down the settlement, but that didn't mean they weren't nervous about it. Abigail had been quieter than he'd ever seen her, and he'd spent most of the morning holding Andrew's coat while he threw up. If Remus wasn't trying to keep it together for the rest of them, who knew what state he would be in.

"I hope so," she said.

"Hey," a familiar voice said. Then a familiar hand took his.

"Hey," Remus said. "What are you doing here?"

"We heard that they had finished deliberating upstairs," Dora said. "I took the afternoon off. Is that okay?"

He had asked his loved ones to give him space. For one, Harry and Sirius didn't need to be in yet another tabloid—especially not tied to an issue like this, when they were busy building up their lives. Secondly, they didn't need accusations of old-school Order of the Phoenix or ministerial interference tarnishing this case. But most importantly, Abigail and Andrew would be here alone and Remus didn't need to remind them of that. Still, Remus smiled when he saw his wife.

"Of course," he said, raising her hand to his lips so he could kiss her knuckles.

"Wotcher, Hermione," she said, letting go of his hand briefly to hug her. "Where are the others?"

"Andrew is throwing up in the bathroom and Abigail went to go get what I think is her fifth cup of coffee," Remus said.

"Oh," Dora said. "Well… hopefully she'll be back before they open the courtroom doors."

They were quiet, then. Hermione batted away a few journalists who tried to ask Remus questions, telling them that they had no new comments to give, and redirecting them promptly away from Dora. Andrew came back and Remus gave him his coat and a stick of gum to chew on; Abigail drifted back as well, twisting her hands together. She'd spent so much time with Greyback that she was borderline agoraphobic. She calmed down somewhat when Andrew took her hand, but swore under her breath again once the court doors opened.

"Oh shit, fuck," she said.

"Shh," Hermione said. "We're nearly there."

"I'm so excited for you not to be our lawyer anymore so you can't tell me not to swear," Abigail muttered.

Remus kissed Dora goodbye.

"I'll be in the stands," she promised. "I love you."

"I love you too," he said before she slipped away.

Remus took his seat between Abigail and Andrew on the plaintiff's bench; Hermione sat at the end. Across the alley from them sat the Department's representatives, but Remus couldn't make himself look at them.

"I'm going to be sick," Andrew said quietly.

"No you're not," Remus replied just as quietly. "Just breathe."

He reached out and took his hand. Abigail squeezed his other hand.

The Wizengamot filed in and the Chief Warlock stood and cleared his throat. Remus suddenly thought that maybe Andrew was on to something; he suddenly felt the urge to throw up as well.

"After much deliberation..." the Chief Warlock began.

"No kidding," Abigail muttered.

"...the Wizengamot has ruled that the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures has the right to maintain and utilize a comprehensive werewolf registry to carry out their work, as outlined by the departmental charter," he said.

Remus felt himself deflate. Andrew's hand went slack in his while Abigail's nails dug into his hand.

"But that by virtue of lycanthropy being a magical illness, the Department is bound to the standards outlined by the Magical Care Confidentiality Act of 1902. As such, the werewolf registry is to be private and the plaintiffs are entitled to damages which the court will fix at 1000 Galleons each. So the Wizengamot has ruled, so let justice be served."

"YES!" he heard someone who sounded vaguely like Ron shout from the stands—but he wasn't sure. Remus felt his bones liquify just as Abigail threw her arms around him fiercely and gasped. Before he could think of even throwing an arm around her, Andrew wrapped his arms around her and sandwiched Remus. He heard both applause and outrage in the stands, but he didn't care. He didn't care, he buried his face in Andrew's shoulder before wiggling out to go find Hermione. She let herself look away from the Chief Warlock for one moment, while he wrestled the audience's attention back towards him and called for silence in the court, to wrap her arms around him too. Then Abigail pulled Remus away again and threw her arms around him.

"Oh my God," she said. "Oh my God."

"It worked," Remus said, somewhat stunned. "It… it worked…"

"Order in the court!" the Chief Warlock cried out. Remus went back to his seat and pulled Andrew and Abigail back down too, but the giddiness didn't leave.

They… they'd done it. They hadn't necessarily won the thing they had set out to do; the werewolf registry was still out there, and the Department would undoubtedly find new, vengeful ways to retaliate. But three werewolves had won something in a wizard's court. That was not something that was supposed to happen, but it had. They had won.

Remus could barely pay attention to the Chief Warlock reading the complete decision and his rationale, as he started thinking of what they could win next.

WC: 4840