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SHAMELESS PLUG!

My first original novel, Strangers In Boston, is now available on Amazon under my pen name, T.S. Mann (get it?). It's free to Kindle Prime members and $4.99 to people who want to download the Ebook. Paperback copies are available for $12.99. Check it out, and if you like it, please leave a review. Basically, it's American Harry Potter. Except there's no school, no wands, and if you use magic improperly, it can drive you insane and possibly destroy the world. No pressure or anything.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled fanfic.

Harry Potter
and the Death Eater Menace

Harry Potter and all associate characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.

CHAPTER 36: What's Past Is Prologue (pt 1)

THE PRESENT
The Hogwarts Infirmary
13 February 1994, 9:55 p.m.

With a look of grave concern, Albus Dumbledore swept into the infirmary and took in the scene. His Potions Master was lying on a hospital bed, unconscious and with a trickle of dried blood stretching out his left nostril and down the side of his face. Madam Pomfrey leaned over him while casting diagnostic Charms with her usual professionalism. Several feet away stood Harry Potter whose expression was also pensive despite the self-control the boy's Occlumency normally provided.

"What has happened here?" the Headmaster asked.

"I'm still doing diagnostics, Headmaster," said the matron without looking up. "Ask Mr. Potter."

Dumbledore looked at Harry expectantly. The boy moved closer to him and spoke quietly.

"I was … investigating that matter regarding the Caretaker you wanted me to look into, and I learned of the incident involving Professor Snape and the Shrieking Shack from when he was a student." Albus's eyes widened as the boy continued. "I persuaded Professor Snape to let me see his actual memory of the incident but … sir, that memory was false! I still don't know what happened at the Shrieking Shack, but I don't think it involved my father saving the Professor from a werewolf at all! Anyway, I showed my findings to the Professor, but then he told me to exit the memory. I did … and then, about fifteen seconds later, Professor Snape came out screaming in pain with blood dripping down his nose before he collapsed. I contacted Madam Pomfrey through the Floo in his office and helped her bring him here. That was just a few minutes ago."

"Did … did he say anything, Harry?" The boy shook his head. Then, the matron spoke up.

"It seems to be some sort of psychic damage, apparently self-inflicted. It's quite similar to the injury that put young Potter here in a coma for several days last term, though thankfully not as severe. I believe he will recover, but he will likely be in a healing coma for some time. A day or two at least."

The Headmaster nodded gravely. "Thank you, Poppy. Mr. Potter, it's almost curfew. You'd best be off to bed. I will have a report on Professor Snape's condition delivered to your House in the morning through your prefects."

Accepting the dismissal, Harry nodded respectfully and left the infirmary. Dumbledore watched him as he left before turning back to Madam Pomfrey.

"Poppy, if there is any change, send word to me at once, no matter what the hour."

"As you wish, Headmaster."

Albus studied the face of the unconscious Snape, a face which looked so much more peaceful in sleep than it ever appeared when he was awake. Feeling the weight of his age, the old wizard made his way back to his office before sending his Patronus out with a message to deliver. Then, the Headmaster made his way to a hidden alcove containing a Pensieve. He took a few moments to place several highly relevant memories into the bowl before leaning forward to look inside. It was time to face his role in how Severus had come to this point.

For the Greater Good.

THE PAST
10 March 1971
The Basement of the Lupin Residence

With a soft groan, the boy awoke in his cage and sat up. Once fully awake, he gasped and looked around wildly before sighing loudly in relief. He was naked, starving, covered in painful scratches, and locked up all alone in a heavy and magically reinforced metal cage in a dark and dingy basement. All was right with the world.

After a few minutes spent catching his breath, the boy gingerly reached through the bars to grasp a chain hanging from a bell suspended from the ceiling. As he did, he winced in pain from the scratches, a sign of the Monster's displeasure. Virtually the only thing little Remus Lupin ever remembered from his time as the Monster was the knowledge of how much it hated him for not giving in. How much it wanted him to stop loving his mum and dad. How much it wanted him to eat his mum and dad instead.

But for some reason, the Monster couldn't make little Remus give in to its hungers and hatreds, so it took out its frustrations on their shared body instead. Every Change was accompanied by a night spent in a cage unable to hunt and kill and eat (and perhaps not even in that order), and at some point, the Monster inevitably accepted that, for another month at least, it would not win. And so, petulantly, it would begin to scratch and bite at its own arms and chest. The wounds healed quickly, for that was one of the Monster's gifts. Few things could hurt it for very long, and its own claws were not on the list. But it still hurt while it healed, and a few claw marks were so deep that they would not fully heal before the Change Back. When that happened, scars would remain. Not many, but enough for little Remus's body to be marked with them.

Remus rang the bell three times quickly, then three times slowly, and then three times fast once more. Intelligence was not one of the Monster's gifts, and so it could never know how to send his mum and dad the all-clear signal. Even if it could trick them into coming down to the basement before the Change Back, it probably couldn't hurt them through the cage, but it was always better safe than sorry. Remus knew that his parents had sacrificed everything to give him some semblance of a childhood, and he would rather die than curse them as he'd been cursed.

A few moments after he rang the bell, he heard steps coming down the basement stairs, and the door was thrust open. It was Lyall Lupin, the boy's father. He looked down at his boy, naked and exhausted, and did his best to not seem sad. He never succeeded, for Remus was far too astute, but the boy appreciated the attempt. Lyall swiftly came over to unlock the cage with a spell, and Remus slowly crawled out and stood, wincing again as he did. His father summoned a terrycloth robe from across the room and wrapped it around his son.

"Good morning, Remus," he said with false cheer. "And happy birthday! I wish it hadn't coincided with the full moon, but …." Lyall trailed off uncertainly. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," the boy lied, and his father nodded, cognizant of the lie but willing to pretend otherwise for all their sake's.

"Good, good. Now let's get you upstairs. We'll give you a rub down with some Essence of Dittany and then a nice hot bath while your Mum finishes cooking breakfast." Remus nodded.

"After that, I want you to take a nap for a while so you'll be rested." Lyall smiled cheerfully, but it did not reach his eyes. It rarely did nowadays.

Lyall paused and then continued with a slight hitch in his voice. "We have company coming later this afternoon, Remus. I want you to be on your best behavior when they get here."

"Is it … Them?" Remus asked cautiously. Lyall winced and then nodded. "Them" was how the boy referred to the wizards who showed up from time to time on the days after each Change. Privately, he also thought of them as "The Faceless Men" even though he suspected some were women, because neither he nor his parents could ever remember their faces after they left. Remus didn't like to say that name aloud though. It was a scary name, and he didn't like to think about how frightening he found Them. The Faceless Men didn't come after every Change, and the tests they performed on Remus were quick and rarely hurt – though rarely was another way of saying sometimes – but they always made the boy feel uncomfortable. The way they looked at him, as if he were still an animal even after the Change Back.

They first made themselves known to Remus when he was 7. He'd been cursed at 4, but while his parents eventually told him that the Faceless Men had been monitoring him casually from a distance ever since he was first cursed, he had never met any of Them. Not until his 7th birthday, when They came to the isolated shack where the Lupins had set up a home and offered The Deal.

It turned out that the Faceless Men thought Remus Lupin was special. He hadn't felt special, and certainly not special simply because he had no desire to rip his parents and everyone else he met apart and eat all their flesh and suck on their marrow until he felt sated. He was horrified and sickened when one of Them asked about such feelings at their first session. But apparently, for someone who'd been a werewolf for nearly three years by that point, the fact that Remus had not yet become a Monster was very special indeed.

The Deal was simple. The Lupins would move to a lovely cottage on the outskirts of a small village in Wales. Everyone would be made to think that they were respectable Muggles (Hope was a Muggle, and while Lyall was from an old French Pureblood family, he had been well-trained in Muggle culture as part of his prior Ministry position). Lyall would work as one of the town librarians, while the boy's mum would work part-time as a teacher. They could both use magic in the cottage, which would be shielded from the eyes of others with Notice-Me-Not Charms, but otherwise, the whole family would "go Muggle." Remus would attend the small village school with the other Muggle children and would say nothing about the wizarding world. On the nights of the full moon, Remus would be locked in a specially reinforced cage in the family's specially reinforced basement that was enchanted both to keep him contained and prevent any of the neighbors from hearing the terrible howls of the Monster.

And three or four times a year, the Faceless Men would come on the day after a Change and run their tests.

The Deal meant that despite his condition, Remus Lupin had a surprisingly decent childhood marred only by unpleasant but only rarely painful tests and the terrible certainty that his parents were secretly miserable and it was all his fault. Hope and Lyall both pretended admirably but ineffectually. Remus had never become one with the Monster, but he was still a werewolf, and a werewolf could tell.

The arrangement had not been perfect, but surprisingly, the biggest problem had not been Remus's lycanthropy but rather his wizardry. Like nearly all young wizards-to-be, Remus was prone to accidental magic when he was upset. Unlike nearly all young wizards-to-be, however, Remus lived among Muggles who could not understand why so many strange events surrounded the odd Lupin child who was always so sickly at roughly the same time every month. But they could figure out that he was the epicenter, and Muggles were as prone to rumor and fear-mongering as any wizard. Four times, the family had needed relocation to a new village while their former neighbors were Obliviated of all knowledge about them.

After his nap, Remus and his parents had a light lunch followed by a delicious birthday cake that Hope had decorated beautifully. Remus blew out the candles and made his wish. It was the same wish he'd made every year since he was four years old – that he could be a normal boy. And while that seemed as unlikely as ever, he was a little boy who knew about magic and whose mother's name was Hope.

Around 2 o'clock, there was a knock at the door. Lyall answered and admitted four people. Three of them wore the same preternaturally bland robes he'd come to expect from Them, and as usual, his eyes seemed to slide off their faces without retaining the image of them. But to his surprise, the other man who had come for his birthday was the very opposite of nondescript. He was easily the oldest man Remus had ever seen, with silver-grey hair and a beard that came down to his waist. His robes were made of a vivid purple cloth embroidered with indigo paisleys, and a matching tasseled hat sat on his head. Most interesting of all, however, was the reaction of Remus's parents, who exhibited their customary nervousness around the three anonymous wizards (or witches? Remus could never tell) but who treated the old man with complete admiration.

After saying hello to Lyall and Hope, the old man stepped forward and bowed respectfully to Remus.

"And you must be the Birthday Boy himself!" the old man said with twinkling eyes. "Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. And – conditional on some terms that your parents will have to agree to – I am pleased to present you with a very special birthday gift indeed – a personal invitation to attend Hogwarts during the coming term."

And so, Remus Lupin's birthday wish came true … sort of.

THE PRESENT
A Hogwarts Corridor

The Caretaker strolled through the halls of Hogwarts, whistling as he walked, with Crookshanks following at his feet. It had been a busy night. He'd broken up no less than four broom closet assignations and one intra-house poker game (apparently one of the younger Slytherins had introduced the Muggle game to some friends and it had caught on). Not for the first time, he wished that he could find the old Map he and his friends had fashioned so many years before, or that he could reproduce it alone without the aid of the other three. While perhaps an invasion of students privacy, it would save him time climbing every stair case in the castle in search of oversexed teenagers.

"Why does this school have so many broom closets anyway?" he thought idly to himself. "House elves do all the cleaning and they don't need brooms. Did the Founders put multiple broom closets on every floor to encourage underage snogging?!"

Of course, Remus had been searching for the Marauder's Map for reasons far more important than simply catching students out of bounds. But after all these months, he now assumed the Marauder's Map and the secrets it contained were lost forever. Those thoughts were instantly derailed, however, by the arrival of a brilliant silvery phoenix Patronus.

"Please come to my office as soon as you've completed your rounds. There has been ... a development."

The Caretaker frowned. Mindful of the fact that "a development" was almost certainly a euphemism for "something dreadful," he completed his circuit as quickly as possible and then went swiftly to the Headmaster's office. He slipped past the gargoyle and bounded up the stairs, but the Headmaster called out before he could knock.

"Come in, Remus."

Lupin stepped inside. By that point, Albus had finished his review of his old memories and was back in his chair. Fawkes was perched on the back of the chair crooning softly. Remus blanched at the expression on the old man's face.

"Did … did somebody die?"

"No," Albus said with a weak smile. "Well, not yet, anyway. Although violence may well be forthcoming from a certain quarter." He sighed deeply. "Severus knows that his memories of the Shrieking Shack have been altered."

Remus's eyes widened in surprise as the Headmaster continued.

"That is why I have summoned you, Remus. To decide what we are going to do next."

THE PAST
1 September 1971
Platform 9 ¾

The night before had been a new moon, which meant the Monster was as dormant as it could be, but Remus still had remarkably acute senses. Growing up in a succession of small Welsh villages, the boy was not used to the sounds, the smells, and the crush of people he encountered on Platform 9 ¾. Lyall patted his shoulder reassuringly, and Hope gave him a tight hug.

"You'll be fine, Remus," she said. "You're clever and a good student. This is such an opportunity for you, one we never imagined you'd have. So, trust in Dumbledore and whatever happens," her voice broke, "be brave."

"I will, Mum. I promise." He gave a last hug to his father and then headed for the Hogwarts Express. Along the way, his heightened sense of hearing picked up on snippets of conversation along the way.

"I hope I don't have to remind you of how important it is for you to make Slytherin, boy," said a thin man with cruel features to a boy Remus's age with long curly black hair. "I would merely be disappointed in you. Your mother, on the other hand…."

"Come on, Sev!" urged a girl with brilliant red hair, clearly a Muggleborn according to her attire. "I want to get a good seat!"

"It's a train, Lily," said the pale boy bearing a long-suffering expression who she was dragging by the hand. "All the seats are exactly the same."

"But Daaaad!" whined a boy with messy hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and expensive robes. "I bet all the other Firsties will have brooms! Surely no one follows a rule that stupid!"

"Now you listen to me, Peter," said a pale stern witch in a wicker wheel chair to a plump boy with an unfortunate haircut. "I want you to do the best you can. But we both know that your magic is weak, and if you can't manage the course work, well, there's no shame in being a squib. If you can't handle it, or you get picked on by all those mean boys, or you just get homesick and miss your Mumsy, you just send me an owl and I'll have you home in a jiffy. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mother," the boy said in a flat voice. "I understand."

The pale witch had a sudden coughing fit and covered her mouth with a laced handkerchief. "Of course, if my malady grows worse, you might have to come home no matter how you're doing, if only for the funeral."

The plump boy closed his eyes. "Please don't say that, Mother."

"Yes, yes. How rude of me to complain about my own weakness on your special day. Think nothing of it. Now, come give Mumsy a kiss goodbye."

Soon, Remus was sitting alone in a compartment near the back of the train. He'd just gotten settled when there was a knock on the door. It was the heavyset boy with the sickly mother.

"Excuse me, do you mind?" he said. "Everywhere else is full."

"No," Remus replied. "Not at all."

The boy sat across from Remus. "I'm Peter, by the way. Peter Pettigrew."

"I'm Remus. Remus Lupin."

Peter smiled warmly. "Are you really? What an interesting name. Much better than mine."

"What's wrong with Peter Pettigrew?"

"Too alliterative. And Pettigrew sounds like a brand name for women's undergarments."

Remus laughed at the quip even as he blushed slightly. "So, where are you from, Peter?"

"Upper Appleby." He noticed the lack of recognition on the other boy's face. "It's a wizarding community hidden inside a Muggle village in Lincolnshire. You?"

"Most recently, Eglwyswrw. It's in Pembrokeshire in Wales."

Peter blinked. "Egg-loose-you-row?"

"Eh, close enough for Welsh. I was actually born in England. We didn't move to Wales until I was older."

The two boys continued talking amiably for several minutes about their upbringings (or edited accounts thereof). Remus said that his parents were a Pureblood wizard and a Muggle and that his dad actually "went Muggle" a few years earlier. The thought of that clearly astounded Peter. Like Remus, Peter was an only child raised by his mother. His father was the late Martin Pettigrew, whose family had immigrated as refugees after the Grindelwald War and who had died when Peter was 2, leaving him a half-orphan. His mother was Edwina Pettigrew, nee Gamp, an Ancient and Noble family that had fallen on hard times. Edwina had enough money in her dowry to cover her and Peter's living expenses and pay for Hogwarts, but money was tight. Remus sympathized.

"I … saw you with her out on the platform," Remus said cautiously. "Is she very sick?"

Peter looked away. "I … I'd rather not talk about that, if it's all the same."

Remus nodded and changed the subject. The two were engrossed in a discussion about what Houses they would likely be in (Remus hoped for Ravenclaw, Peter for Hufflepuff), when the door was thrust open, and two other boys practically fell into the room, loudly talking to one another.

"Can you believe that!" said the one with glasses and messy hair. "I mean seriously, can you believe that that greasy beak-nosed little pissant would say something like that to my face!"

The other boy snickered. "I do everything seriously!"

The first boy paused and looked at him in confusion. "What?"

"Well … my name's Sirius so I do everything seriously. Get it?" He laughed at his own joke while his friend just shook his head. Remus coughed loudly, and the two rounded on him in surprise as if only now noticing the room was occupied.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't see you there. James Potter, Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. And you are?"

"Remus Lupin." "Peter Pettigrew."

James thought for a moment. "I don't think I know those families."

"Is it a problem if you don't?" said Remus cautiously.

"Not a bit!" said Sirius as he dropped into a seat. "What a boring world it would be if you only ever talked to people you knew. Or worse, people you're related to! By the way, I'm Sirius Black of the Decrepit and Sucky House of Black. Pleased to meet you both."

Then, he turned to his friend. "Say, you're not gonna turn into a Pureblood ponce when we get to Hogwarts, are you Heir Potter?"

James snorted and turned to Remus and Peter. "Sorry, sorry. I'll try not to be so pompous. It'll be a struggle because I'm perfect in every way, but I'll do what I can." He held his nose up before bursting into laughter. After a few seconds, the other three boys joined in.

There was another knock on the door. "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

James looked around the compartment at his three companions and decided that he was feeling magnanimous. He turned to the Trolley Lady with a grin.

"We'll take the lot!"

THE PRESENT
Dumbledore's Office

"So," Remus said cautiously. "What do you want to tell him?"

"About what happened in 1976?" Albus responded. "The truth. Which I should have done years ago. And would have, but for shame."

Remus shook his head. "You have nothing to be ashamed of Albus. None of that was your fault."

"I was Headmaster then as I am now," Albus answered. "I had … a duty of care."

The werewolf did not respond to that. Instead, he moved on to more pressing matters.

"So … what will you tell him about … more recent events?"

"By which you mean, will I tell him about your presence in the castle? About your identity as Malachi Sturgeon?"

"And more importantly, about what potion he's been making since last September and who's been drinking it."

"Ah," the older man nodded. "I take it you wish to preserve that secret a while longer."

Remus looked pensive. "I will admit … I've struggled for over a decade in Shamballa to maintain some sort of … accommodation for my condition. Some degree of … peace. And yet, not all those years of meditation and study has allowed me as much freedom from my curse as Belby's potion."

"Damocles Belby is deceased, Remus. It is to Severus Snape that you should feel gratitude for that freedom."

Remus fought down the urge to scoff. "It is difficult to feel gratitude for someone's help when they don't know they're helping you and they almost certainly would not help you if they knew who you were."

"I cannot believe that Severus would continue to hold a grudge against you if he knew the truth, Remus," Dumbledore chided.

"Perhaps, Albus. But it is my life that will be affected if he does hold such a grudge. And worse, it is the entire Wizarding world that will be endangered if your faith in him is misplaced. Forgive me if I am not as magnanimous towards a former Death Eater as you are."

The two men stayed up past midnight weighing their options while high on a shelf above them, the Hat watched intently but said nothing.

THE PAST
The 1971 Sorting Ceremony

The Sortings went quickly after a slow start. Black came closest to becoming a hat stall before the word "GRYFFINDOR!" bellowed forth from the Hat to the shock of everyone in the Great Hall. The ebon-haired boy strolled over to the Gryffindor table with an easy grin on his face and immediately made friends with Fabian and Gideon Prewett.

Lily Evans joined him soon after. While she tried not to let it show, she seemed slightly disappointed. Apparently, she and her best friend ("Sev") had both wanted to go to Ravenclaw together. When she saw the boy standing by the door, she waved at him nervously, but all Snape could do was stare it her in dismay. Moments later, Lupin and Pettigrew were sitting together just a few seats down from Lily and Sirius, both looking pensive. Lupin had literally never been around so many excitable children at once, and he was on edge. For Peter, on the other hand, it was the Hat's words that haunted him.

"You can be great, Mr. Pettigrew," it had said. "I know your mother has filled your head with nonsense about your weaknesses. But you can be great." Then, it paused. "But please … don't forget to also be good," it finished softly before bellowing out "GRYFFINDOR" once more.

The Hat called out "GRYFFINDOR" for James Potter before McGonagall could actually fit it down all the way onto his head.

The first full moon came two weeks later. Word that Remus's mother had been injured back home was delivered at the evening meal. It was a lie, of course. A pre-arranged excuse that gave the werewolf a chance to "go home for a day or so." It would be some time before his friends realized that Remus either got sick or went home like clockwork every month in a lunar cycle.

Madam Pomfrey escorted the boy out the back of the building towards the Whomping Willow that had been planted a few months earlier and then grown at a magically accelerated rate. She pointed her wand at a particular knot near the base and struck it with a Stinging Hex. Immediately, the ordinarily violent and dangerous plant stilled, and a small opening appeared at the base. Hurrying, the mediwitch led the boy through the opening and down the long passage that ended in a heavy door. She pushed it open without knocking. Remus grimaced at her urgency. The matron was always kind and had tried to be as reassuring as possible, but he could tell how nervous she was just to be near him on this night at least.

"No," he thought. "Not nervous. Terrified."

Beyond the heavy door was a large room full of all sorts of odd things. A circle of glowing runes dominated the center of the floor. Floating above were several levitating brass orbs with glass eyes. These, Remus learned, were recording devices for posterity's sake. Some distance away from the circle were various tables set up as stations. A few were full of beakers, tubes, and potion cauldrons. Another that immediately drew Remus's attention was one which had an over-sized crossbow physically mounted onto it like a ballista. And in it was an enormous bolt that looked to be made of silver. As far as Remus knew, the vulnerability of werewolves to silver was just an old wives' tale, but apparently, the Unspeakables would be testing everything about his condition.

The boy glanced behind him as Madam Pomfrey swiftly closed the door behind her on her way out without even a backwards glance.

"I'd have thought it would be locked and bolted to keep people out," he said idly.

"A safety procedure, my boy," said Albus Dumbledore as he came in from another room with three other men. "Should the warding circle we've set up fail and you break free in your lupine state, it will be necessary to evacuate the Shrieking Shack. We'll be keeping that door unlocked in case it's necessary for some of us to run out of it very, very quickly."

"The … Shrieking … Shack?" Remus said uncertainly.

"The building in which you find yourself, young man," said one of the Headmaster's companions. "I suppose some introductions are in order. My name is Damocles Belby, Master of Potions. This young man next to me is Saul Croaker, the newly appointed Voice of the Unspeakables. And the terrifying codger beside him is Augustus Rookwood, who has deigned to use his real name while working on this project with us, while the other Unspeakables hide behind their usual anonymity."

Both the Unspeakables rolled their eyes at Belby's introduction as the Potions Master continued.

"But to return to your question, the Shrieking Shack is an abandoned home on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. With the aid of some intriguing magics that Rookwood rudely refuses to share with me, the building is protected from outside inquiry by a magical field that causes everyone who sees it to identify it as 'The Shrieking Shack,' the most haunted building in Britain, a site far too dangerous to enter. More importantly, it has held this status retroactively since long before any of the current inhabitants of Hogsmeade were born. Our hope that such a deception will shield us from discovery and hide our activities from the overly curious. Similarly, the Whomping Willow that guards the entryway to the tunnel leading here is enchanted so that your fellow students believe that the tree has been there for years and years instead of quietly planted one night last month just after the tunnel was completed."

He turned to Rookwood and Croaker.

"You do realize, I'm not going to stop until I've figured out that spell, gentlemen."

"Curiosity killed the cat, Belby," said Rookwood in a cool voice.

"Ah Gus. As if your own sense of curiosity isn't just as likely to be the death of you someday."

"Gentlemen," interrupted Dumbledore. "We are off topic and wasting time. I would much rather for all our sake's that young Mr. Lupin be inside that runic circle we've been working on before his transformation."

He turned to Remus. "Mr. Lupin, you do fully understand what is going to happen next, correct?" he asked gently.

Remus swallowed and nodded. He would step into the circle, take off his clothes, and wait for the Change. Then, once the Monster had taken over, the researchers here would perform various tests. To see how better to contain werewolves. To see how better to detect werewolves. To see how better to hurt werewolves. And hopefully, someday, to see how to cure werewolves.

The boy bit his lower lip and then moved towards the circle. He was scared, but the Hat had put him in Gryffindor. It was time to show the world why.

THE PRESENT
14 February 1994
The Foyer Outside the Great Hall

Jim was on his way to breakfast in the Great Hall when he stopped suddenly, his eyes lighting up in surprise and delight. He ran forward into the waiting arms of one of his favorite people: Peter Pettigrew.

"You came!" he said excitedly. "I never heard back from the owl I sent."

Peter laughed as he hugged his godson affectionately. "Well, that poor school owl had a longer trip than you expected. I was actually away on business in Eastern Europe. But when I got the message, I came as soon as I could arrange a portkey. And now, here I am."

"So you are, Mr. Pettigrew," said a familiar voice. It was Minerva McGonagall, who was bemused by the solicitor's presence. While she'd had a fondness for the Marauders during their school days despite their frequent tomfoolery, she remembered Pettigrew as being, sadly, the least of them. It had been something of a surprise to see the heights to which that shy young boy had risen, even with Lord Potter's patronage.

"And to what do we owe the pleasure of House Potter's Seneschal?" she continued. "Usually, we don't even permit parents to visit without an advance warning."

Peter blushed slightly at being chastised by his old Head of House. "Well, I was going to present myself to the Headmaster before speaking to Jim here, but since you're here …."

"Say no more, Mr. Pettigrew. If Mr. Potter wishes to grab a quick breakfast and then meet with you before his lessons start, that will be quite alright. As it happens, I believe you have Potions first this morning, yes?" The boy nodded with a grimace at the thought. "Well then, you should have all the time you need to meet together. An announcement will be made at breakfast, but Professor Snape … has taken ill, and his classes for today are cancelled."

Jim's eyes lit up at the thought of a morning without Potions. He'd endeavored to do better in the Slytherin's class after his attempted apology earlier in the school year, but the intricacies of potion-making still eluded him. With McGonagall's consent, Peter followed Jim into the Great Hall to grab a quick bite. It was early yet, and the room was nearly empty. Peter paused at the doorway and inhaled deeply of the heady aroma of fresh-cooked breakfast seasoned with nostalgia. Despite himself, he smiled in remembrance.

It was provident that Peter had returned to Hogwarts at this moment, for by odd coincidence, it had been this very day in February some twenty years earlier that the Marauders became more than just a quartet of juvenile delinquent pranksters.

Indeed, it was the day everything changed.

THE PAST
14 February 1974

By his 3rd year, Remus and his fellow "Marauders" (as Sirius had christened the quartet) had become quite close. Of course, they weren't equally close, at least not yet – James and Sirius were all but brothers, while Remus and Peter often commiserated on how they were the third and fourth wheels, respectively. It helped that Peter and Remus spent so much time together in the Library. Pettigrew had blossomed under the mentorship of their DADA instructor and had become much more attentive to his studies. Remus, meanwhile, had somehow acquired the reputation of being "the Brains" of the group. He doubted that was the case. Lupin was the most "academically inclined" to be sure, but that was because merely being able to attend Hogwarts at all was such an unexpected miracle that he was obsessed with doing as well as possible to justify the Headmaster's faith in him. Sirius and James, on the other hand, were both so naturally gifted at wanded magic that they'd be able to take turns as first in their year (or second, Remus supposed, behind the unstoppable machine that was Lily Evans) if only they applied themselves. But while Black and Potter shone brightly in Charms and Transfiguration, they were almost obstinate in their refusal to study in those classes they found boring.

But despite his scholastic and social success, Remus was still bothered that he had to lie to his closest friends about his monthly absences. The excuse of a "family emergency" had worn thin before the end of his first term at Hogwarts, and so with Madam Pomfrey's assistance, he came up with a clever alternative that had the benefit of being grounded in reality. He revealed to the other three Marauders "the truth": that as a child he'd had "an encounter" with a werewolf. He wasn't bitten, but the encounter caused him to suffer from chronic wolf-fear. Madam Pomfrey helpfully explained to the boys that Remus's specific manifestation of wolf-fear as linked to the lunar cycle and caused him to have terrible and violent nightmares on the night of the full moon. Accordingly, he spent those nights in the Infirmary to avoid disturbing his dorm-mates and also in case he injured himself in the throes of a particularly bad nightmare. The other boys accepted that … mostly. James and Sirius peppered him for weeks about what his encounter with Fenrir Greyback was like, but Remus was able to put them off by saying it was too traumatic to think about. Peter asked no questions but gave him some odd looks from time to time.

Still, that lie seemed to put his friends at ease … until the middle of his Third Year.

In retrospect, Remus should have known that something was up, as his three friends began acting strangely around him after returning from the Christmas holidays. Foolishly, he ignored his instincts and paid the price. Just before dusk, Madam Pomfrey escorted the boy to the Shrieking Shack, before returning quickly back down the passageway as she had a few sick students staying overnight in the Infirmary. Neither she nor anyone else noticed that the door was slow to close behind her.

Within moments, Remus was stripped down inside the protective circle. While the Headmaster and Professor Rookwood were reviewing the work of the junior researchers, Master Belby approached with a bubbling goblet.

"Here you go, lad," said the potioneer. "I've added some spearmint and valerian. That should improve the taste and reduce nausea a bit. Or at least I hope it does."

"Thank you, sir," Remus said quietly as he took the goblet and downed it as quickly as he could without gagging on the foul mixture. He handed the goblet back and wiped his mouth. Then, his acute sense of hearing picked up two unexpected sounds – whispers from across the room near the door. Voices he found familiar

"What is this place…?" "Shhh! They'll hear…!"

Remus's eyes narrowed. "James? Sirius? Is that y-URRRK?!"

The boy's question was interrupted by sudden crack of his jaw dislocating before stretching out into a muzzle. He fell to the ground howling in agony as the Change began. And in response, three boys hidden under an Invisibility Cloak screamed in terror.

Dumbledore, who had been distracted by the onset of Remus's transformation, looked over to the door leading to the tunnel in surprise. It opened partway, but a flick of his wand caused it to slam shut again. He focused his mind and extended his Legilimency on all levels before striding over towards the wall and reaching out with his hand. When he felt the touch of a silky yet invisible fabric, he grasped it and yanked. The Invisibility Cloak was ripped away to reveal the terrified faces of Sirius Black, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew.

It was not immediately clear who terrified them more: the partially-transformed werewolf presently writhing on the ground in agony or the furious Headmaster looming over them.

THE PRESENT
Hogwarts

Breakfast in the Great Hall had only deepened Peter's sense of nostalgia, and he took the opportunity share some tales of his days with the Marauders. Fred Weasley had been astonished to learn that Jim's father had been the mysterious Prongs while Peter had been Wormtail. He was evasive on how he knew their former identities (Peter suspected that Jim had blabbed), but it was clear he was a prankster himself and had idolized Messrs. Prongs, Wormtail, Moony, and Padfoot without even knowing who they really were. Peter regaled the Gryffindors in Jim's social circle with tales of pranks and jokes from his school days. But he also could not help but pick up on several obvious social cues, such as the fact that Fred Weasley and his twin brother were apparently not on speaking terms. Or more interestingly, the fact that the Granger girl and the Longbottom Heir could not hide their concern over his presence.

Those two were sitting at the edge of Jim's social group, not participating in the conversation but clearly hanging on every word. Peter knew by that point that Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom were closer to Harry Potter than to the Boy-Who-Lived despite their house affiliations, so he assumed that Harry had poisoned their minds against him, a fact that he found more amusing than troubling. He glanced over at the Slytherin table on the far side of the room and noticed that Harry and his Slytherin friends were ignoring him completely. But since his own school days, Peter had gained an understanding of Slytherin ways, and he realized that their efforts to ignore him were actually meant to disguise their intense interest in his presence.

After breakfast, Peter and Jim retired to a small sitting room near the entrance to the dungeons, the same room where the two had met during Jim's second year to discuss Jim's discovery with the Death Eater training manual Peter had given him. As before, there were no portraits in the room, and Peter quickly spelled it against eavesdroppers.

"Okay, sport," he finally said. "You called for me, and I'm here. I know from the tone of your letter that you think something terrible has happened. What's the story?"

Jim told him. How at some point in the recent past, most likely during the Potter New Year's Eve gala, someone had placed him under the Imperius Curse. How at least some of his recent memories had been erased or altered. How he had been compelled him to have an instinctive distrust for his twin brother. Peter could not conceal his shock at the news. More than shocked, though, he was visibly angry at the violation of his godson's mind. He pulled Jim into a tight hug.

"I can hardly imagine how you must feel right now to know that something so … heinous has been done to you, sport," he said with complete sincerity. "But I promise you. Whoever is responsible will pay for what they've done!"

Jim smiled at the intensity of Peter's words, but he did not look up at his godfather's face and so missed the cold and merciless expression it held. He would use this information, he knew. Use it however he could to facilitate his own plans and those of his master. But he would also see to it that the one responsible would indeed pay. The only person who could have been responsible.

"James Charlus Potter," he thought. "You stupid, self-righteous fool. You haven't grown up one bit since we were kids, have you. Putting your own son under the Imperius, no doubt for 'the Greater Good' – how perfectly Gryffindor of you. I guess this means Contingency Plan G is back as an option."

Peter pushed aside his anger at James and his embryonic plans for getting rid of the man and his wife so that Peter could become Jim's guardian outright. There would be time for that later. Instead, he talked some more with his godson about his feelings and tried to give him comfort and encouragement. And after fifteen minutes of that, he finally decided to change the subject.

"So, since I'm at Hogwarts anyway," he said amiably, "tell me more about this Animagery instructor."

THE PAST
The Shrieking Shack, moments after the intruders were discovered…

The three boys were quickly hustled into a small side room and seated roughly around a table. Standing over them in varying degrees of anger were Dumbledore, Rookwood, Belby, and Croaker, although the boys didn't know who the latter two were. Before anyone spoke, Professor Rookwood grabbed each boy in turn by the chin and gazed into their eyes for several seconds.

"No signs of wolf-fear," he said to Dumbledore. "The ward held completely." He snorted. "A pity, really. Wolf-fear is a facet of lycanthropy that interests me but which we have had no opportunity to study as part of this project. It would have been poetic if these hooligans had graciously volunteered for such research.

Dumbledore glowered at the Unspeakable before turning to his students, with his attention focused on the likely ringleader.

"I believe some explanations are in order, Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore firmly. "How did you come to be here?"

James gulped. "Well, um, we wanted to know what Remus was doing every month. We figured out that he wasn't really staying in the Infirmary on the nights of the full moon like he said, and we wanted to know the truth."

"And how did you 'figure it out'?" asked Croaker. "More importantly, exactly how long ago?"

James looked over at Sirius nervously, and the boy grimaced.

"Since October," Black said. "I, um, needed to borrow Remus's notes for a Potions essay and forgot to get them before he left the dorm, so I snuck down to the Infirmary in time to see Madam Pomfrey escorting him away. I followed for a bit but didn't want Filch to catch me, so I went back to the dorms and told James."

He looked up to Dumbledore with his eyes open. "Sir? How can Remus be a werewolf? I mean … we've been sharing a dorm for 2 ½ years and he hasn't tried to eat us once!"

"I believe that we are the ones asking the questions, Mr. Black," Rookwood said coldly. Then, his eyes narrowed. "Did you discuss this matter often after your … discovery? And with anyone else?"

"We never told anyone else," said Peter quietly. "We talked off and on for weeks. Then, James said that over the Christmas Break, he'd talk his father into letting him borrow an invisibility cloak so we could follow and see where Remus was going."

"An invisibility cloak that Mr. Potter should know is against school rules," said Dumbledore.

"Dad said our family cloak was an exception to the rules," Potter said defiantly before he remembered to whom he was speaking and swallowed nervously. "It's a hair-loom," he added.

"Heirloom, dummy!" Sirius hissed in annoyance.

"Regardless of your cloak's provenance, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore continued. "I will be confiscating it tonight and speaking to your father about it first thing in the morning."

"Now hold on, Albus," said Unspeakable Croaker. "There are already three impudent brats who now know about this highly classified DOM project. The last thing we need is for you to involve the Lord of an Ancient and Noble House. I say we just Obliviate the boys, send them back to bed, and forget the whole thing happened."

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" the Headmaster said affronted. "Young Mr. Lupin is a volunteer for Project Romulus, and even still, I am troubled by the pain he suffers, though I console myself that his suffering will hopefully be for a Greater Good!"

As if to punctuate Dumbledore's words, a howl of pure agony could be heard from the main room. The three boys jumped in fright while most of the adults in the room winced in response.

"I guess this means we can take spearmint out of the formula," Belby muttered under his breath.

"But," Dumbledore continued in a calmer voice, "these three boys did not volunteer for anything of the sort, and you will not Obliviate them or do anything else to harm them in any way."

Calmer voice or no, there was no mistaking the threat in the old man's voice. Meanwhile, Rookwood had been studying the three boys with a contemplative gaze.

"Now see here, Albus," Croaker began, but Rookwood cut him off.

"Saul, Albus is right. Setting aside the ethical concerns," and from his tone, Professor Rookwood was not terribly concerned with ethical concerns, "it seems clear that our young intruders have memories of being suspicious about the Subject going back several months. Completely eliminating any such memories would require fairly invasive psychic surgery and require several days to complete."

He looked over to Dumbledore and gave a cold smile. "And that assumes I could work uninterrupted without dear Albus here hexing me to hell and back due to his sudden attack of scruples. We should try an alternative approach."

Albus said nothing but simply returned the Unspeakable's gaze. Meanwhile, Belby pinched his brow between his fingers in annoyance.

"What sort of alternative approach, Augustus?"

"Why, disclosure, of course." Rookwood turned back to the boys. "You asked if Remus Lupin was a werewolf, Mr. Black. The answer is yes. But, he's not just any werewolf. He is the most singularly unique and important werewolf in the world. You see, for reasons which still elude us, Mr. Lupin is immune to the gradual psychological degradation associated with lycanthropy. Despite the terrible curse he bears, he remains as sane and as ... human as any of you. He has suffered this condition since the age of four, with agonizing changes and confinement during every full moon. Forced to move regularly lest he be discovered. Never able to develop true friendships. So tell me, gentlemen – are you friends of Remus Lupin?"

"Yes," said Peter instantly and emphatically. The other two boys agreed after barely a second of hesitation.

"Good," the Unspeakable continued in a silky voice, "I'm glad to hear he has such boon companions. So … next question: Do any of you know what an Animagus is?"

The three boys looked at him in confusion but also excitement. Meanthile, Albus's head jerked in surprise. "Augustus! What exactly are you proposing?!"

"Just looking into alternative avenues of research," the Professor said without taking his eyes off the boys. "We know that all Animagi have a natural immunity to lycanthropy and can even exercise some degree of control over them in their transformed shape. But we know nothing about the mechanisms underlying this characteristic. I propose the following: These boys want to help their friend. So let us put them to good use. We shall teach them to become Animagi and in the process monitor the reactions of Lupin to them at each stage of the process."

"What?!" Dumbledore exclaimed in amazement.

Belby was similarly troubled. "I admit it's a subject of potential interest, Gus, but surely you don't think that a trio of 13-year-old boys are viable candidates for Animagery, do you? It took Minerva five years and that was after she'd already obtained a Transfiguration Mastery."

"Oh, that wouldn't be a problem, Damocles," said Croaker. "The Unspeakables have access to advanced techniques. Our personal record for training an Animagus to mastery is four months, although she was an exceptional case. I know Gus himself never bothered to master the art - too afraid it would muck up his higher-order Occlumency skills. But we have several Animagi on staff, and I have no doubt we can teach these boys in a year or two. And I agree that the Lycanthropy-Animagus connection is probably something that we've probably not paid enough attention to. After all, Emeric did derive the curse from his own experiences as a natural animagus. It might indeed be the key to finding a cure."

He then rubbed his chin as he considered the boys more seriously. "But still, the risk is great. I am hesitant to entrust the secrecy of Project Romulus to three troublesome Gryffindor school boys."

"True," Rookwood said easily. "But we have other means of protecting our secrets. Surely, Albus, you would not object to some minor and consensual memory alterations, would you?"

"… go on," the Headmaster said in a quiet but intense voice.

"I suggest the following. If the boys will consent, I will impose a voluntary Memory Lock on them. They will remember discovering that Remus Lupin is a werewolf, but also that unlike other werewolves, he only suffers from lunar transformations and not the other attendant psychological disorders. They will retain their feelings of friendship with the boy and 'independently' decide to become Animagi. On the nights of the full moon, they will follow Lupin here under cover of Potter's Invisibility Cloak. While Lupin is being monitored, the boys will receive instruction in Animagery. When it's time for them to leave, I'll lock their memories and they will believe they were in a hidden room in the castle practicing those techniques which they will believe that they acquired on their own initiative. As they develop in their Animagery, we can monitor how Lupin responds to them. All perfectly safe and controlled."

"You cannot possibly believe all that will work, Augustus!" Belby exclaimed.

"Oh, I've no doubt Gus can pull it off," Croaker said thoughtfully. "He is our resident expert on the psychic arts."

"Indeed," said Albus with a tight voice. "Though I must confess, what Augustus proposes sounds less like a Memory Lock and more like a Confundus, if you truly want to influence the boys to that extent. A Confundus … or something worse."

Rookwood laughed. "Are you worried that I'll Imperius your Gryffindor golden boys, Albus? I'll be more than happy to let you oversee my memory programming to ensure nothing happens that offends your squeamishness."

Dumbledore's eyes glinted angrily. "Kindly do not mistake ethics for squeamishness, Rookwood. Your inability to tell the difference between the two was of great concern to me even during your school days."

The other man snorted. "Yes, that and my associations, as I recall."

"There is another issue to consider," Belby interrupted. "Namely, is it wise or proper to get these boys landed on the Conscription List so young?"

"No, that's not a problem," said Croaker with a shake of his head. "The Unspeakables have access to a classified version of the Conscription List. No one in the Ministry will know about them," he paused to glare at the boys, "well, at least as long as they show a modicum of discretion. If they're found out after leaving Hogwarts, they might be conscripted into Ministry work depending on their forms, but they will not face any criminal penalties for not registering."

Dumbledore still looked doubtful when Potter spoke up.

"Sir … I want to do this. Peter's right. Remus is our friend, and if becoming Animagi will help him, then I want to try. I'm a Potter, and my Dad raised me to always do what it right instead of what's easy, and to always strive for the Greater Good."

Peter and Sirius both nodded vigorously in agreement, while Dumbledore hesitated in visible anguish before assenting.

But already, he was growing to detest the expression "For the Greater Good."

Next: The Prank!

AN1: SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT: There is good news and bad news. The good news is that chapter 120 is nearly complete as I worked on 119 and 120 simultaneously. I expect to have the next chapter up by the end of next week. The bad news is that the subsequent chapters will not appear before Jan 1. This is for 2 reasons. First, I have decided to use NaMoWriMo as an opportunity to get Strangers In Dallas, the sequel to Strangers In Boston done. Or at the very least, well begun. Second, believe it or not, we are rather near the end of Year 3, about 6-7 more chapters, I think. However, because of the nature of several of those chapters, I need to have them all done before I start publishing them. I can't explain why without spoilers. You'll understand, I hope, when they appear. So, expect Chapter 121 on January 1st. On the bright side, the rest of DEM should follow very quickly thereafter.

Discord followers will still get access to advance previews of 121 and subsequent chapters with the understanding that some of the published "chunks" as I like to call them may not be in the write order when previewed. I thank you all for your patience.

AN2: Speaking of which, check out the Sinister Man's web presence on the POS wiki, the POS TV Tropes page, and my Discord server (through which you can see advance previews of this story as it is begin written). Also, the Sinister Man would be profoundly grateful if you checked out my P*****n page and supported my original fiction. Patronage is not necessary to get the free POS previews via Discord.

AN3 (What the Sinister Man is reading): Alexandra Quick and the Worls Away by Inverarity. The always excellent Alexandra Quick series continues with Alex's 5th year. And Inverarity doesn't start posting until the entire story is complete, so there will be no long gaps between chapters. Easily the best HP fic series involving OCs.

AN4: Special thanks to my Discord editors: Adam Sitrich, ido, MihelRika, Miss Andrist, Mr. Arcanum, Pokeflute, Prince of Conspiracy, ProgKingHughesker, and sfu.

AN5: Vital Statistics: 11,822 reviews (top 16). 13,168 followers (top 12). 11,421 favorites (top 41).