Remus led the rest of the Marauders off the Hogwarts Express and across the platform to where his father was waiting; he gave the four of them a hollow smile in greeting. Never a fan of Apparating or Floo powder, Lyall Lupin instead drove them all home in his Morris Marina—James and Sirius, who'd never ridden in a Muggle car before, were fascinated by it, fidgeting with the windows and seatbelts while Remus sat up front and held his dad's clenched hand, the two of them nearly silent during the long trip from London into the forests of North Wales where Remus's parents were living.

Lyall parked the car on a narrow gravel road that snaked up towards an old, quaint little cottage surrounded by the herb and flower gardens Hope Lupin loved tending to. The wilting of the leaves and encroaching weeds in the gardens did more to tell Remus about his mother's condition than anything his father had written in his letter.

Remus brought his friends up to his room, which seemed cramped and small compared to the dorms of Hogwarts—Peter would sleep in his bed with him, and James and Sirius had brought a sleeping bag to share, which unfurled itself onto the wooden bedroom floor with a sigh. Then Remus left the others to get settled in and headed down to his parents' room to see his mother. She was asleep, tangled up in a cocoon of quilts and blankets, and snoring softly. Her once-beautiful blonde locks had grown dull and stringy, her face lined with premature wrinkles. Remus's mother had been growing frailer and frailer as the years wore on, sick with worry about her werewolf son and the nomadic, fearful lifestyle he'd forced his whole family to live. If he had not been what he was, Remus wondered, would she be so ill now? Perhaps she would have been strong enough to fight off the cancer on her own. Remus's heart ached at the thought of it.

He kissed his mother gently on the forehead, wiping the fevered sweat from her brow, then tiptoed from the room and closed the door softly behind him, not wanting to disturb her. James, Sirius and Peter had returned downstairs to take in the kitchens, the gardens, the porch—and the thick mahogany door in the corner of the cottage that the Lupins always kept locked.

"What's in there?" Peter wondered.

In response, Remus grabbed a key from a little shelf built into the wall above them and unlocked the door, inviting his friends inside without a word.

The room was dark and windowless; James and Sirius lit the tips of their wands to explore it, though Remus knew they were well aware of the ban on magic use for underage wizards away from school. Their wands revealed deep claw marks etched into the walls and floor, clumps of fur matted with blood, and stray bits of pillows and feathers and whatever else Lyall had thrown in in his attempt to make the wolf more comfortable.

"We call this my Moon Room," Remus explained quietly. It was only the latest in a series of many Moon Rooms; though the Lupins had been able to stay in one place since Remus went off to Hogwarts, he'd spent his childhood moving from village to remote village as the local townspeople inevitably grew suspicious of his lycanthropic tendencies. "It's heavily warded, and covered in Silencing Charms so no one outside can hear me when I transform. This is where I'll be staying when the full moon comes next week, but you don't have to worry. I've never broken out."

"We're not worried, Re." James was examining a long rut the wolf had attempted to dig into the floor. "You're the one we're worried about."

"Remus." Remus jumped at the voice; it was weak and tremulous, but it was definitely his mother's. He must have woken her up after all.

The door to the Moon Room creaked open to reveal both of Remus's parents on the threshold, their eyes wide with shock. Hope Lupin was leaning against a cane, her husband's arm tight around her shoulders; but as weak as her body looked, Remus could see her familiar fiery intelligence lighting her gaze as it swept across the Marauders.

"They know," she said. "About you. About…this."

Remus nodded. The other Marauders had frozen in place, looking to Remus for cues.

"They figured it out, Mum," Remus explained. "A couple years ago. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to worry you."

"But there's nothing to worry about, Mrs Lupin," Peter said quickly. "Remus's secret is safe with us."

"You…." Lyall Lupin stopped himself, trailing off, then shook his head and asked: "You don't mind that Remus is a werewolf?" The word werewolf came out as a hoarse whisper.

The Marauders shared a glance. "I think it's pretty cool," said Sirius. Remus blushed.

"Remus makes it very difficult to be afraid of him," James added. "I mean, he doodles little flowers around all his notes."

"I do not."

"You doodle them on the History of Magic ones, at least," Sirius pointed out.

Remus's mother raised a hand to her mouth. Her eyes were filled with tears. "Mum?" Remus took a step towards her. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, fy mab," Hope Lupin murmured. "I'm better than okay." She inched into the room, using her cane to steady her, grabbed the nearest Marauder—Sirius—and pulled him into a fierce, bone-crushing hug.

Remus gawked. Sirius made a startled noise, but he didn't resist; he wrapped his arms around Remus's mother and hugged her back gingerly.

"You too," she said to James and Peter, beckoning them over with her chin. The two Marauders shrugged and went to join in on the hug—Remus's mother kissed each of them on the brow and ruffled their hair affectionately.

Remus moved to stand beside his father. "Your mother and I were so worried when we learned you'd made such good friends in school," Lyall explained in a low voice. "We were so scared they'd figure out your secret, and everything would be over for you."

"I was, too," Remus said quietly. He felt a tear pricking at his own eye as he watched his ailing mother interacting with his friends.

"I suppose we should have given them more of a chance," said Lyall. He gave Remus a small smile. "We should've known you would pick the right friends."

Remus looked at each of them as they broke apart from his mother—James, his glasses crooked and his grin warm; Sirius, his cheeks colored with surprise at the motherly attention he was so unused to receiving; Peter, giggling bashfully as he always did, thrilled to be included. They were all so different, and yet somehow they fit perfectly together, roommates and Marauders and brothers.

"I didn't pick them at all," Remus said. "I think I just got very, very lucky."