A/N: In case you missed it, thanks to Zarathustra and SortingHat47 for their help and assistance.

I should also take the time to say that all animals/creatures referred to in this story can be found in "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them."

Disclaimer: I wish I could come up with something clever to say here, but I'm not quite as good as Julie (remuslives23), so I'll just say, I'm not JKRowling. Never have been, never will be. I would never have killed Remus. (And I harbour bitter feelings about that…)

Chapter 7: Failings

Thursday, 6 June, 1985—Noon

Alastor Moody stumped purposefully through the Leaky Cauldron, casting suspicious glances around him as he did. He noticed two or three individuals stepping deeper into the shadows as his eyes passed over them, as if trying to avoid his attention. If he didn't have something more important to do at this moment, he might have taken the time to investigate further. As it was, however, he had someone to meet.

"Alastor!"

The Auror turned to look in the direction of the voice. A man was sitting at a table in the corner, waving a hand frantically to get Moody's attention. As he did, his large purple hat slid to the side of his head, threatening to fall. The little man stopped waving long enough to reposition the hat then waved again.

"I see you, Diggle," Moody growled as he got closer. "I'm not blind."

"Oh, I know, Moody, but it is dark in here…"

Alastor seated himself on the other side of the table. His back was to the wall, which was perfect as far as he was concerned. If Dedalus Diggle had been in this seat, he would have made the smaller wizard move. You'd never catch Moody sitting with his back to the room in any place, at any time. Even with his magical eye, it was too easy to miss the entrance of vengeful wizards and witches.

"I was a bit surprised to hear from you, Alastor," Dedalus chirped.

"It's been a while," Moody agreed. He pulled a flask from his pocket and waved Tom, the bar's owner, away. "But I've got a little mystery on my hands, and I need some help."

"Anything for a fellow Order member," Diggle said, his voice and facial expression sobering enough to assure Moody that he was taking this seriously.

The Auror twisted the cap from the flask. "When's the last time you saw Remus Lupin?"

"Remus?" Diggle's forehead creased in thought. "Oh, my. Let's see…was it, no. Hmm. I think it might have been a month ago, no, closer to two or three months ago. I remember because it was a warm day, and it was quite out of season, and —"

Moody cut him off. "So you haven't seen him recently, then."

"No. Why? Is everything all right with him?"

"He's gone missing."

"Missing? What do you mean he's missing?"

Alastor huffed in frustration. What was to be misunderstood? "What in the hell do you think I mean? The lad's missing. No one knows where he is. He's disappeared. He hasn't been to work in two days, his employer hasn't seen him, and he left his wand behind. Does that explain 'missing' enough for you?"

Diggle sank lower in his chair as Moody's voice increased in volume. By the time Moody had finished his tirade, the people at the tables nearby were looking at them with curiosity and not a little trepidation.

"I didn't know," Diggle replied meekly.

"That's why I'm asking you these questions," Moody explained gruffly. "Did you talk to him when you last saw him?"

"Oh, yes. Of course. We talked about my herb garden, and he promised to come around this summer to help me with my Knarl problem. Completely destroyed my garden last —"

Again, the Auror cut him off. "Where was he going when you talked to him last?"

"Where —?" The small wizard's lips moved noiselessly. "I have no idea, Alastor. For goodness' sake, it was two months ago. I don't remem—"

"Could you try?" Moody asked softly.

Dedalus blinked. "Well, he did say something about tutoring some children, and that he was staying at the house with them. I don't remember the last name, though."

The Auror nodded approvingly. "Good, good. What else?"

"I don't know what more I can tell you. Everything he told me is from at least two months ago. How can that possibly help you find him now?"

"Did he say if he was going to be visiting any friends, or tell you if he had a girlfriend or anything?"

Diggle thought about it and shook his head. "No, not that I can remember. Alastor, I haven't kept in touch with him. He was closer to you than anyone except the Potters and Pettigrew. And Black," the wizard's voice deepened with anger on the last name. "How in the world can you expect me to help you find him?"

Moody sighed and took a drink. He seemed to give a lot of thought to the words that he was going to say next. "Dedalus, let me ask you something."

"Certainly."

"Did you think that boy was guilty of passing on Order secrets to the Death Eaters?"

By the sudden flush across Diggle's cheeks, Alastor had his answer before the other wizard spoke. "I admit that I thought it might be Remus. We knew it had to be someone close to the Potters, and we all thought, no, we knew it couldn't be Black. But what's that got to do with anything?"

"We owe him, Dedalus. He lost everyone who meant anything to him in the war, or else soon after. If I don't find him, there might be a handful of people who will notice he's gone. The fact that he's been missing for two days and no one but his employer has noticed isn't right. I need to find him so he knows that someone — that someone remembers him."

Dedalus bowed his head over his mug of butterbeer. "I wish I could help you, Alastor, and help him. Really, I do. All I can do is keep an eye out for him, and let you know if I hear anything. Will that do?"

"It will for now," Moody conceded, with a nod of his head. He took one more swig from the flask and then began to screw the lid back on. "Keep an ear out for the name Carmichael too."

"Carmichael?"

"Werewolf hunter."

Diggle reared back in the chair. "You think Remus —?"

"I don't know. I'm going to find out though." The determined look in Moody's real eye sent a chill down the smaller wizard's spine.

Friday, 7 June—4:45 p.m.

The staff meeting at Hogwarts was slowly coming to its conclusion.

"…a new Defense teacher next year," Dumbledore was saying.

Severus Snape looked up slowly. He suddenly regretted not listening to what the Headmaster had been saying up to this point. But the meeting had been somewhat lacking in excitement, and he had been lost in thought about how to propose a change in the curriculum for the third and fourth years. The phrase spoken by Dumbledore drove all thoughts of the proposal out of Snape's head.

"That job's cursed," Professor Kettleburn grumbled. "Can't keep a good teacher in that spot."

"I wouldn't go so far as to say it's cursed," Professor Flitwick said, cheerfully. "After all, Sellers is still alive, in one piece, and walking. He has a new, possibly better job too."

"He's leaving because his uncle and father were killed by trolls, and he has to take over the family business," Kettleburn argued. "It's hardly a happy occasion."

"Who will you get to replace him?" Minerva McGonagall asked the Headmaster.

"Someone will turn up," Dumbledore said, with an unconcerned wave of his hand. "Someone always does."

Sibyll Trelawney suddenly rose from her seat. "Perhaps I should go consult the fates," she said in a breathy voice. "Maybe I can assist in finding the perfect —"

"It's quite all right, Sibyll," Dumbledore assured her, motioning for her to be seated again. "We'll wait until the term is over, and then I'll start the search. Until then, we'll just take turns taking Professor Sellers' classes."

A short period of time was then spent dividing up the teaching of the Dark Arts classes for the next three weeks. Severus now found himself considering how best to present himself to the Headmaster for the position of Defense professor.

"There's just one more thing," Dumbledore said, interrupting Snape's thoughts, and regaining everyone else's attention. "Alastor Moody has informed me that Remus Lupin has disappeared."

Severus ground his teeth together so hard that pain shot through his jaw. What did it matter to him if a werewolf had gone missing? Was he the werewolf's keeper?

"It was under rather unusual circumstances," the Headmaster continued. "There may have been a werewolf hunter by the name of Carmichael involved. So, Alastor wanted me to ask you, especially those who know Remus, to be watching and listening for anything that might tell us where Remus has disappeared to."

"How long has he been missing?" the Arithmancy professor asked.

"Only a few days, but as it seems that foul play may be involved, Alastor would like any information he can get as quickly as he can get it. If you do hear anything, however, make sure you send it directly to Alastor. Remus hasn't been officially been proclaimed 'missing' yet, and Alastor's concerned about calling too much attention to his unofficial enquiries."

"He was in your year, wasn't he, Severus?" Kettleburn asked.

"Yes." The Potions professor put as much venom into that one word as he could. He didn't want reminded of Lupin; he didn't want reminded of the time when he almost died at Lupin's hands, er, claws — and teeth.

"I will consult the Orb," Trelawney said firmly, rising again to her feet. "The All-Seeing Eye will be able to —"

"You might want to put wolfsbane around your crystal ball before trying to search for Lupin," Severus advised, before getting to his feet and sweeping past her with a disdainful flip of his robes.

Saturday, 8 June—12:20 a.m.

Remus emptied the bag of sawdust into the Clabbert's enclosure, coughing at the dust. Above him, in an artificial tree created specifically for the Clabbert, the animal sneezed, sending down wet drops all over the werewolf.

"Thanks, mate," Remus muttered, wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt.

The Clabbert grinned at him.

"Hey, uh, Lupin," Gerry suddenly appeared at the bars and peered in at him. "Bill says to hurry. We've got less than an hour."

"Then maybe Bill needs to get in here and help," Remus said in an undertone. A little louder, he said, "I'm almost done. I've only got Libertas left."

"Lib— oh, Bertie."

Remus poked the shovel through the bars for the younger man to grab, and waited for him to open the door.

"Bill wants to know if the mermaid is going to live."

"Is he going to release her?" Remus asked sharply.

Gerry squirmed. He had been hearing a lot of these kinds of comments from Remus about all of the sick animals, and the hotter answers from Bill, and he wasn't appreciating being in the middle. "No. You know he won't."

"Then, no, she's probably going to die."

"There's nothing you can do?"

Remus slammed the Clabbert's door shut, startling the animal into trying to hide in the fake leaves. "I can't do anything with a mermaid that's pining for the Mediterranean."

"Bill won't like that."

"Bill can just —" Remus stopped speaking. He could almost hear James and Sirius telling him exactly what Bill could do. With a shake of his head, but without completing the statement, he turned to go back to the storage room.

The American stood right in front of him.

"You want to finish what you were saying?" Bill asked.

Remus didn't allow the drawl to fool him. He could sense as much as see the tension in Bill's body.

"Do you want me to?"

"What are you doing for that mermaid?"

Remus shrugged. "Not much I can do. She won't eat. She wants to go back home."

"It's your job to make sure she eats, and it's your job to make sure she stays alive," Bill reminded him.

"I've been here for three days. You can't hold me responsible for her death when you've obviously ignored her state up until now."

Bill took a step closer to Remus. "If she dies, I'll take it out of your hide, wolf."

"Fine. You do that." The werewolf held Bill's gaze for a moment longer, then looked away. "I have to —"

He didn't get a chance to tell what he had to do. Bill grabbed his arm and twisted it viciously behind his back, then shoved him up against the bars of the Clabbert's cage, pinning him there. Inside the cage, the animal squealed in fright and swung from one branch to another, the spot in the middle of its forehead flashing deep red in warning.

"You are just not going to learn until I beat it into you, are you?" Bill's breath was hot against his ear. "Is that what you want?"

"No." Remus whispered. A sudden, sharp jerk set every tendon and nerve in his shoulder and elbow ablaze. He couldn't help wincing loudly.

"I will if I need to," Bill told him. "Hear me?"

"Yes." Probably get it beaten into me anyhow.

Bill released his arm, and Remus slowly began to lower it.

The shock of Bill's fist in his left kidney landed him on the floor, gasping. The toe of Bill's boot then caught him squarely in the ribs.

Gerry retreated behind the wheelbarrow.

"Get your work done," Bill ordered, looking from Remus to Gerry. "And nothing but bread and water for you tonight, wolf." He turned and stomped off without another word.

Remus gingerly pushed himself onto his hands and knees. The younger Bentley said and did nothing. "Well, that was fun," Remus said breathlessly, reaching for the cage bars to help himself to his feet.

"I didn't know he was right there," Gerry admitted.

Would you have told me if you had known? Remus flexed his shoulder and rubbed it with his other hand.

"Are you okay?"

"Would you stop asking me that?" Remus snapped. "No, I'm not okay. I'm here; I can't go home. I can't leave. I'm trapped, Gerry. I am going to get the piss beaten out of me often, unless I find some way to perform miracles…. How in the hell can I be okay?"

The boy swallowed hard and looked away. "I'll clean out Bertie's cage for you," he offered finally.

Remus shook his head. "No." He sighed, and decided he didn't hurt as bad as he feared he would: as long as he didn't breathe too deeply, or move his arm in that direction… "I'll be — okay."

Sunday, 9 June—afternoon

Even after only five days, Remus was able to recognize a pattern. Families with young children or curious old men would come through in the early afternoon. Mid- and late afternoons were filled with older children who were probably on their way home from school. Young men were frequent visitors in the evenings, as were men who had obviously been to pubs and had come by for a final adventure before going home to their wives.

Muggles were as equally intrigued by the Carnival of Dark and Dangerous Creatures as wizards. Remus listened closely to their amused and bemused comments as they worked their way through the tent. They found the animals interesting, certainly, but spent most of the time trying to figure out how the animals had been created. The word 'robot' was mentioned a lot. The fact that Muggles were so easily convinced that the creatures were man-made was the main reason that the Ministry turned a blind eye to the operation of such carnivals all through the British Isles.

As far as the 'Werewolf' exhibit, the Muggles seemed disappointed that he wasn't transformed, and even more upset that he wouldn't transform when they demanded it of him. They asked, they pleaded, they cursed, they yelled — Remus ignored them all. Most times, he concentrated on the book he had in front of him. He had already finished Great Expectations, and was now reading something that he didn't like well enough to remember the title of. It was all he had to distract him from the curious Muggles and the fearful, yet contemptuous wizards.

"Look at it."

"Doesn't look scary at all, right now."

"Wait until the full moon and tell me that!"

It was rare that either Muggles or wizards said anything more original than those three lines. Remus began keeping a mental count in his head every time he heard himself called 'it' (two hundred twenty-three times in three days). By his count, during that same time period, Libertas was referred to as 'it' one hundred eighty-six times. Remus also began to keep track of how many times he heard himself referred to as 'not very scary' (ninety-four times in the same three days). He didn't have much more than that to help him pass the time. It also kept him from concentrating on the hateful things that were said: that werewolves should be exterminated; that creatures like him didn't deserve to exist; that he was a waste of life.

James would have put an arm around his shoulders and squeezed him with brotherly affection and said it didn't matter what they said, because he knew Remus wasn't anything like they thought. Peter would have patted his shoulder awkwardly, and said he was sorry that Remus felt so badly. Sirius would have hugged him, thumped him on the back, and then cursed every single last one of the bastards whose words were like blades in Remus's heart.

Remus tried not to think about Sirius. But the bars always reminded him….

11:35 p.m.

It was late; the carnival was closed. Parsons and Bentley had just walked through the tent, making sure all the animals were secure, and reminding Remus of particular tasks he had to accomplish the next morning. Remus had again asked for the chance to shower properly (Gerry had been hosing him off after cleaning out the cages), and was again denied. Chuckling quietly to themselves, the two carnival owners had left, and moments later the lights went out. That's when Libertas spoke.

"Wolf."

"Horse."

"I am no horse," The centaur said, annoyed.

Remus shrugged, not stopping to think that Libertas couldn't see him. "I'm not a wolf." All the same, he moved closer to the bars at the front of his cage.

"Where do you come from?" the centaur asked.

"Most recently I was living in London, and in Reading," Remus said. "Where is your herd?"

"In the northwest of England. The humans call it the Mersey Forest."

"I was there a few times." Remus again found himself wishing that he could lean back against the bars. "The last time I was there, I went with my father to catch a Golden Snidget that had escaped from a Snidget sanctuary."

"How long ago was that?" the centaur asked. He sounded wistful.

Remus considered. His father had been dead for four and a half years now…. "Five years ago. How long has it been since you were there?"

"Five years," Libertas replied quietly.

Remus was glad the centaur couldn't see the look of shock he knew had to be on his face. "You've been here for five years?"

There was the stamp of a hoof in sawdust. "Yes."

Remus was silent, waiting to see if Libertas was going to elaborate. He didn't. "I didn't know any centaurs lived there," the werewolf finally remarked. "I'm not surprised. It was beautiful there."

"Yes, it was."

The jarvey rattled off a series of curses and the Hippogriff squawked as if in answer.

"Good night, wolf." Libertas suddenly said. He turned so that his back was to Remus, effectively cutting off the conversation.

"Good night, horse."

Remus lay awake for a long time, his mind flitting from one topic to another, unable to concentrate. He could tell from the sound of the centaur's breathing that Libertas was also having a hard time falling asleep.

Monday, 10 June—10:08 a.m.

Remus shovelled the soiled bedding from each cage into a wheelbarrow, which Gerry would then push outside to empty. The werewolf always took advantage of the boy's absence to look for any kind of weakness that he could exploit in order to escape. He had been consistently disappointed up until now, but he refused to give up. There had to be some way out of here!

He stood right outside the Fwooper's cage, leaning on the shovel, examining the drying blisters on his hands, when something sidled into the edge of his vision. He looked quickly — and saw a common field mouse. It was creeping slowly forward, nose twitching, body quivering, searching for any spilled grain or seeds.

"I'd stay out of the cages if I were you," Remus said quietly, the left side of his mouth hitching up in a half-smile.

The mouse froze at the sound of his voice.

"Half of the animals in here would find you a tasty snack."

Frightened, the mouse ran back the way it came: behind the Fwooper's cage and through a rip in the canvas. Remus stared at the tear, and then glanced over his shoulder to where Gerry had disappeared.

There was no time to lose. He dropped the shovel and wiggled on his belly between the Fwooper's cage and the empty one next to it. The tear in the canvas was as wide as his shoulders, so it was going to be perfect….

He slowly parted the ripped fabric and for the first time in days, got a good look at the outside. There were no buildings or tents on this side — and it would be just one quick dash to the nearest tree line. He could do this. Even with the damned chains on his legs.

He was halfway out when he heard Gerry's voice, "Lupin? Where are you?"

Several curse words exploded in his head, and he rose up on his elbows, preparing to pull his legs through the opening, when….

11:23 a.m.

He awoke slowly. His head hurt as it had the day after James Potter's bachelor party. He still didn't remember everything that had happened that night; but he remembered waking up in an unfamiliar bed with a dancer named Shirley. Unfortunately, Shirley was not available for this rise to consciousness. Instead, Bill Parsons was standing over him now, grinning broadly.

"I knew you'd try to run. I've been waiting for it."

Remus gave himself a moment to collect his thoughts. "Glad I didn't disappoint," he finally gasped.

"Oh no, you didn't do that." No, Bill looked quite happy, as a matter of fact.

Remus was suddenly very, very worried.

12:10 p.m.

Gerald Bentley had been listening to the rough laughter and shouts for several minutes, even through the closed doors and windows, before he decided to go see what was happening. His son was sitting on the steps right outside the office door.

"I thought you and Lupin were feeding the creatures," he said gruffly.

"I was. We were." Gerry shrugged. "But then Lupin tried to escape."

"Bloody hell."

"Bill caught him with a Stunner," Gerry said in a neutral tone that implied both assurance and warning. How the boy did that, Gerald Bentley didn't know.

"He didn't kill him, did he?"

Gerry screwed his face up, trying to work out the pronouns. "No. Bill's just teaching him a lesson, he said. Jack and Wally are helping him."

The elder Bentley listened for a few minutes, noticing that his son cringed every time Lupin cried out.

"You're not getting friendly with the wolf, are you?"

"No sir!" Gerry said quickly. "It's just — I don't like to hear — animals suffer."

Bentley nodded. "Good." He stood, rife with uncertainty. Should he go check on Bill, who had a tendency to be overzealous? Should he let Bill just administer whatever punishment he saw fit? After all, hadn't he told Bill he'd leave the werewolf in Bill's hands to deal with? The thought of the one thousand Galleons slipping through his fingers made him queasy.

"Did you finish feeding the creatures?" he suddenly asked his son.

"Uh, no. I wasn't sure if Lupin would —" The boy stopped suddenly and shrugged.

"I don't think Lupin's going to be up for it," Bentley said. Another yelp of pain seemed to punctuate that statement. "You might as well finish up."

"Yes sir," said Gerry. He scurried off.

With a deep sigh, Bentley went off in the opposite direction — to where the noise was coming from.

12:15 p.m.

Remus wiped at his eyes with the back of his right hand and got slowly to his knees.

"I warned you," Bill was saying. "Didn't I?"

"Yes," Remus whispered, closing his eyes. The attempt to clear them hadn't helped at all.

The whip fell again, across his shoulders and curling around his bicep. Bill knew exactly how to twist it so that it bit into the skin as it untangled itself. It was extremely painful and extremely bloody. Remus hissed as the tip of the lash came free, flicking him on the ear as it went by.

"The minute you even set a toe out of the tent, I know it," Bill told him. "You think I'm so stupid that I won't place wards all over the place?"

"I hoped so," Remus muttered.

That earned him a probably well-deserved cuff on the side of his head.

"If you ever — and I mean ever — try a stunt like that again, you're going to get it twice as bad as you did now. You got it?"

"Yes."

"Are you done then?" came Bentley's voice.

"Just finishing up," Bill told him.

"How many times did you hit him?"

"Enough that he'll learn his lesson. Maybe. I'll throw some healing potion in some water later. It won't even scar."

Bentley grunted with satisfaction. "You might want to close the cage off so no one is — alarmed by his appearance."

"Are you kidding?" laughed Bill. "This is the best thing I could've done. They want him to be bloody, as if he was just coming back after the full moon. They'll think he did it to himself. They'll love it!"

Knowing human nature (Muggle and wizard) as he did, Remus wasn't surprised to find that Bill was right — the public truly did love seeing a bloody werewolf.

11:37 p.m.

"Wolf."

Remus sighed. "Horse."

"You tried to escape."

"Yes." The werewolf shifted and grimaced from the feel of scabs cracking.

There was a moment of quiet, then, "How far did you get?"

"Not bloody far enough."

"Will you — try again?"

"At the next chance I get," Remus vowed.

Tuesday, 11 June—9:04 a.m.

"Alatza!"

Pindar Alatza turned to see Alastor Moody limping towards where he was standing in front of the lifts. He waved in acknowledgement.

"You getting on or not?" demanded an important-looking wizard in Wizengamot robes, who was holding the lift door open.

The merchant shook his head. "Not."

The other wizard gave him a disgusted look and removed his hand. The lift door slid closed right away. Pindar stepped aside to wait for Moody.

"You here to report Lupin missing?" the Auror asked as he drew closer.

Alatza nodded. "Have you heard anything?"

"Not a damned thing. It's frustrating."

"Nothing about that werewolf hunter?"

Moody's magical eye swivelled madly. "No. He's reportedly crawled back to whatever rock he lives under. Now that you're here to file that report, I should be able to go question him, find out whatever he knows. Come on." He steered Alatza to the nearest lift.

"You know, I feel rather responsible for all this," the merchant said quietly. "I told him I'd be there first thing in the morning to get him. I wasn't."

"You didn't know," Alastor said sharply.

They pressed themselves against the back wall, and fell silent as other witches and wizards filled the lift. Both men remained lost in their own thoughts until they reached the floor where the Aurors' offices were.

"Considering how nervous he'd been, I should have been there earlier. I should have been there when the moon set," Alatza continued as if the conversation had never been interrupted.

"No use beating yourself up over this. Remus knows it's not your fault."

"Do you think he's still — alive?"

Moody felt his heart thump painfully. "He's survived worse."

Alatza gave him a sidelong look. "Has he?"

"That's what I'm hoping," the Auror muttered under his breath.

9:51 a.m.

Alastor Moody shoved the door open to the Werewolf Services office and stood there unmoving and immoveable.

"Mr Moody!" Jane exclaimed, rising from behind her desk. "How are you?"

"Been better, lass, been better." He took the couple of steps required to reach the counter. "I've got a question for Hennessey, but I see he isn't here."

"No, he's out and around — he tends not to spend too much time here." Jane made a face. "He's afraid of werewolves, I think."

Moody smiled. "I know of at least one werewolf that he should be afraid of."

Jane came over and leaned on the counter. "How is Mr Lupin? Margie said she gave him his jacket."

"That she did. He appreciated it. But, as far as how he is now, well, that's one reason why I'm here."

The woman's eyes widened. "He isn't sick or hurt, is he? Or — worse?"

"Well, see, that's part of the problem. I can't find him. He's just disappeared. I was wondering if Hennessey could shed any light on the situation for me."

"Hennessey?" Jane's mouth sagged open. "You think he had something to do with it?"

"I'm not saying he did or he didn't. I'm just hoping he'll know something."

"How long has he been missing?"

"A week now. Ever since the full moon."

"Oh, my. Poor Mr Lupin."

There was a noise behind the Auror, but, even without turning, he was able to see that it was Margie.

"Margie, Mr Moody was just telling me that nice Mr Lupin is missing."

"The cute one?"

"Yes," Jane replied.

"That's terrible!" The dark-haired girl walked around the counter to stand next to Jane. "Do you have any idea where he is?"

"Well, now, if I had any idea, he wouldn't be missing," Moody said, trying not to be too short with her.

The fact was, he was growing more irritated by the day, by the minute — with Lupin, of all people. Here were two women who seemed concerned for Remus. The handful of others that Moody had talked to about Lupin's disappearance — Diggle, Aberforth Dumbledore, Elphias Doge, and others — were also upset and worried. So, considering how many people Remus Lupin had known, considering how many people seemed to like him, how in the hell did it happen that he kept to himself so much that no one knew anything about his life now?

Moody had to admit that he was as guilty as anyone. He had Owled the boy occasionally, just to keep tabs on him, but he had never noticed that Remus had kept details of his life very, very close. Damn it! How could Moody find someone who had, for all intents and purposes, been slowly vanishing over the past few years anyhow?

Thursday, 13 June—6:23 p.m.

It was too much to resist. There was that one moment, when Gerry had his back turned, and they were right at the tent's entrance. Remus had considered several escape plans, and discarded every one of them; except this one.

He edged his way to the tent flap then ducked through it. Bright sunlight blinded him, disorienting him, making him forget to picture his destination, destroying his concentration — and so, instead of Disapparating, he stood frozen for a moment — a deer in front of an basilisk, Sirius would have said. The moment was too long: someone yelled, and there was a bang as a Binding Spell hit, and then — there was pain. Lots and lots of pain.

11:45 p.m.

"Wolf?"

"Gods, horse…" It hurt to talk. It hurt to bloody think. He groaned.

"They will keep you from escaping."

Remus said nothing. He was too busy trying not to feel anything.

"Will you try again?"

The werewolf slowly rolled over, wincing as broken ribs grated against each other. "Shut up, Bertie," he whispered. Small breaths. No, oh Gods, no. Not even that deep.

"Wolf."

What does it take to get him to shut UP?

"When you escape…"

Escaping from Azkaban is easier than this.

"…take me with you."

He tried to lift his head, but couldn't. "Bugger off, Bertie."

The centaur left him alone after that.

Thanks to those wonderful people who have reviewed and put this story on alert! I appreciate it as much as seeing David Thewlis naked... And that's a LOT. (If you've seen him naked, you know what I mean. Excuse me while I laugh evilly...)