Author's note: This chapter has been rattling around in the back of my mind for a while now, and I was so excited to hit a "milestone" chapter number to unleash it on all of you. 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 #3, Photography Task #4: Write about fighting for something you believe in.

Content Warnings: NA

The Book Launch

Dora squeezed his hand as the bookshop's owner thanked everyone for coming and read off a little preamble, introducing Remus to the small crowd that had gathered in the book shop for the release party Remus had agreed to against his better judgement.

"You married me against your better judgement, didn't you?" Dora had told him bluntly that morning when he'd confessed to her how nervous he was. "It seems like maybe your judgement simply can't be trusted."

Then she had wiped the smirk off her face and hugged him and promised that it would be alright, that it would be fine and go well, that he would do great. She had even dyed her hair a shade of purple he was particularly fond of to cheer him up, and he'd seen that Teddy had done the same when they'd met at the entrance of the bookshop as the crowd trickled in. He tried to remember all those things as she squeezed his hand now.

"And now, without further ado, please help me welcome our week's spotlighted author—Remus Lupin," the shopkeeper said. Dora clapped extra loudly as Remus got up and smoothed down the dark blue dress robes he'd splurged on for the occasion. He walked up to the podium they had set up, trying to keep himself from falling apart or running for the hills and nearest door. He suspected that Sirius was ready to run and drag him back if he did.

He nodded his head and mumbled his thanks and then looked down at the book waiting on the podium for him. The book was slim enough to make for easy reading, which was what Remus had hoped for, and its cover was glossy and navy blue. The illustration of a lunascope on the cover was as dynamic as a living portrait, except no matter how the pieces of the lunascope turned, the image it projected was always the full moon. The book's title stood above it in elegant gold cursive: The Worst Part Isn't the Bite. His name was underneath, accompanied in smaller letters by the note: First werewolf to win an Order of Merlin First Class.

He flipped it open, cracking this particular copy's spine for the very first time. He passed by the table of contents, looking over familiar chapter names. Seeing them in the font his publisher had picked after so much humming and hawing felt surreal.

Remus cleared his throat before reading, struggling to keep his nerves in check. He'd taught hundreds of classes by now—he kept trying to tell himself that this was just more of the same, that this was no different than teaching third years about the life cycle of Grindylows. He read the words that he had written and then edited so many times that they were familiar.

"The Worst Part Isn't the Bite," he read. "Prologue: Why This Book Is In Your Hands."

He took a deep breath and looked down at the book open in front of him.

"One of my earliest memories is being pulled out of bed by a hand that is not quite human," he read. He felt the room still and hush, which was usually the reaction when he told this story—not that he had told it many times. "I was four years old. I remember being thrown to the floor, and not much else after that. I passed out very quickly, from pain or blood loss or shock. I'm not sure. From that moment on, my life was defined by the fact that I was a werewolf—a creature, a curse, a threat, a less-than-human and less-than-worthy addition to the world. I am a werewolf. I claim that today, perhaps not with pride but without shame—which would have been unthinkable to me years ago. Because more defining yet than the being I had become was the image of that hand, pulling me out of my world and into a new pain. I have spent my whole life anticipating that hand to return, waiting for my world to change and fall to pieces once more. It has affected the way that I relate to the people around me—including complete strangers on the street, friends, colleagues, the woman who became my wife and the son that we raised together."

Remus looked up from the pages at the assembled crowd, which looked on. He focused on Dora, who was in the front row looking intently, as if he were the only interesting thing in the world. She nodded, so Remus looked back down.

"It is only now, more than fifty years since I first felt that hand on me, that I am able to think clearly enough and understand that the fear of how others will treat me as a werewolf has often been worse than the condition itself. I told my son this, years ago, and he told me that people should know that. People should know that the true burden of being a werewolf is being treated like one by the world around you. I have spoken about being a werewolf in the past; to my family, especially, and to the students at Hogwarts to whom it was my responsibility to teach as best as I could. I have spoken occasionally to the Wizenmagot and to Werewolf Agents at the Department for the Care and Control of Magical Creatures, and some of the things I have said have found their way into The Prophet for better or for worse. But never have I spoken because I could, not because I needed to. And that is why I have written this book today."

There was a small trickle of applause across the room but Remus didn't dare to look up lest he lose his nerve. He just waited it out and kept reading.

"Much has been written about werewolves, though not all of it well, which is another reason why I have written this book. The only other book written by a werewolf was published anonymously. The writer of Hairy Snout, Human Heart was the first other werewolf I met, though our meeting was limited to a copy of his work that I found in the Hogwarts Library as a student. I read it in secret, slipping the jacket of my Charms textbook over its cover, because I was as terrified as the author to be discovered. As my werewolf status was made public years ago, against my wishes, I have no similar need to hide—which has been both a burden and, ultimately, liberating. Still, I have tried not to be autobiographical, both to respect the privacy of my loved ones and because I am not a very interesting person."

There were a few chuckles in the room. He heard Teddy loud in clear, from the back where he was bobbing baby Iris as Victoire balanced Margo on her lap.

"Rather, I have chosen to write about the prejudices, stereotypes, laws, and ministerial practises against and about werewolves and used my own life as case studies into why and how these practises are as devastating as they are to werewolves like me. I ask you to remember that there are an unknown number of werewolves in Great Britain—179 are registered by the Ministry of Magic, many more are not. Their lives will be and are different from mine. But I believe that we all deserve to exist and thrive in this world."

Remus took a deep breath.

"I also ask you to keep in mind that I am not proud of everything that can be found in this book," Remus said. He took a deep breath. "I have not always been the best version of myself, let alone the kind of person that the people I love deserved. I know that now, and I knew it then. I make no excuses for I often had none. But I am writing it anyway because those moments are part of who I am, and who I learned to be."

"I am also writing about myself at my best in this volume, because I have had an extraordinary life—a far better life than I thought I ever could or deserved to have. I think that people deserve to know that being unbitten is not the prerequisite to joy that we are told it is, whether they are newly bitten or simply curious about what a better and kinder world may look like."

There was a small round of clapping and Remus nodded along to steady himself as he wrapped up.

"To tell those stories, I need to thank Sirius for filling in the blanks as he has been around the longest; the members of the Other Moon Cooperative for their unparalleled camaraderie, strength, and support of this book; Teddy for changing my life in absolutely every way imaginable—along with Victoire, Margo, and Iris; and to Dora for what I can only describe as 'everything.' I love you always; thank you for giving me the courage to write this book and starring in all the best stories that are within its pages."

He looked up at the crowd, feeling like he'd run a marathon after reaching the bottom of the page.

"Thank you," he said before shutting the book.

The crowd clapped and Remus shifted awkwardly, not sure what to do with himself. So, he did what he always did, and found Dora in the crowd. Naturally, she was clapping especially loudly and even graced him with a whistle—which made him blush. But the smile and pride on her face made Remus brave enough to smile, just as she'd made him brave enough to live his life fully a million times before this day.

His shoulders finally relaxed and his hands stopped sweating quite as badly.

WC: 1628