A/N: Where would I be if not for SortingHat47 and Zarathustra, who scan, examine, inspect, and critique what I've done? Thank you ladies!

Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were mine, I wouldn't be letting Warner Bros. screw up HBP. Have you heard about what they've done to that movie? No fight at Hogwarts (the Death Eaters just breeze on in), no hospital ward scene between Remus and Tonks (nothing about Bill and all that, either!), no funeral for Dumbledore… Good golly — what's LEFT? I'm so afraid it's gonna suck…

Chapter 21: Ambush

Monday, 7 October, 1985—3:02 p.m.

So. Where do I go from here?

Remus leaned over the stone wall that went around the Astronomy Tower. It was a long, long drop to the ground. He wondered how long it would take to fall that far.

No. I'm not even going to think it.

But, hadn't he already? He had intentionally goaded Snape, had provoked him knowing what might happen.

Hell, if he had used a simple Stunner on me, the result would've been the same. I'd still be here, wondering if I shouldn't throw myself off.

He was worthless. He couldn't walk without a limp, and the long trudge from the dungeon to the top of the Astronomy Tower had taken every bit of strength and breath from him. He couldn't perform magic without feeling sick to his stomach. He couldn't maintain his control on himself — making him little better than Greyback, in his own mind. It seemed unlikely he'd find another job. He was relying on Hogwarts charity for food and a bed.

Couldn't even get Snape to kill me…

A scrap of parchment fluttered across the stone floor, and he bent to pick it up. Sloppy handwriting informed him to pay attention: that the moons of Jupiter would be on the O.W.L.s. A smaller, neater printing replied that it wasn't the moons of Jupiter; it was the moons of Saturn that they would need to know.

Remus couldn't help but smile.

Amazing how we bragged to each other about how many O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s we got and they got us nowhere. Well, nowhere where we really wanted to go. Sirius' marks weren't enough to keep him out of Azkaban, and mine weren't enough to overcome my lycanthropy.

We've got to be the two best — or is it worst? — examples of underachievement in Hogwarts history. Certainly didn't live up to our marks, did we?

A noise behind him made him glance over his shoulder. A boy stood there staring at him with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know anyone was here."

"That's quite all right," Remus said, without shifting his position. "There's still plenty of room for you to throw yourself off the tower while I finish convincing myself to do it."

The boy gulped and paled. "S-sir?"

"Never mind. It was a bad attempt at an even worse joke," Remus replied. He straightened and turned to face the boy, who was probably a fifth-year and very clearly upset about something. Remus suddenly regretted his acidic remark.

The boy held his textbooks up against his chest in a defensive manner and made a move as if he were going to step backwards.

"I do apologize," Remus said quietly. "Sometimes things get to be a bit much, and I have a tendency to resort to inappropriate sarcastic remarks."

The boy had stopped moving and was regarding him with eyes that were more curious than frightened now. "Aren't you the one who helped Wheeler the other day? And argued with Sn— uh, Professor Snape?"

Remus chuckled humourlessly. "Ah, yes. That would indeed be me."

The boy grinned. "If you don't mind me saying so, sir, I thought it was brilliant."

"Well," Remus began as he rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "Your Potions master and I don't always see eye-to-eye on things. I should never have been so confrontational with him though." Wouldn't Snape faint if he heard me say that?

"I still thought it was brilliant," the boy insisted. He slowly crossed the tower until he was standing next to Remus. "I'm Jonathan Blotts," he said, extending his hand.

The werewolf hesitated then shook the boy's hand. "Remus Lupin."

"Are you a professor or something, Mr Lupin? I've seen you around the Castle, but…"

Remus tilted his head to one side. "I suppose I'm the 'or something.' I'm a —" he caught himself. "I was a teacher. I'm between jobs now." Well, now, isn't that a bloody understatement?

"I wish you were my teacher in Potions," Jonathan Blotts muttered, leaning his back against the wall. "Hell, I'd be happy with the Bloody Baron teaching me. Anyone other than bloody Snape. He just tossed me out of the bloody class now because I'd bungled — whatever the hell it was that we were doing." He suddenly winced. "Sorry for the language, sir."

"Potions not going so well?" Remus asked lightly, ignoring both curses and apology.

"No. Neither is Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, or Defence Against the Dark Arts." The boy rolled his eyes. "And I won't even mention Charms."

Remus couldn't stop his eyebrows from rising as his eyes fastened on the boy's blue and bronze striped tie.

Blotts glanced down to see what it was that Remus was looking at. Realisation made him blush and mumble, "I think the Sorting Hat was having me on a bit when it placed me in Ravenclaw. The professors seem to think so, too."

"Can't you get a tutor? Perhaps someone from your House would help you."

Jonathan sighed. "I've had all kinds of tutors. I have tutors now. They get impatient with me because I just can't seem to get things as quickly as I ought."

Remus leaned his left hip against the wall, taking the weight off his aching leg. "What keeps you from getting it as quickly as they think you should?"

"Oh, who knows?" Jonathan rolled his eyes.

"Are there subjects you do well in?"

"I do fairly well in History and Astronomy, and I do quite well in Magical Creatures. Oh, I know that a lot of people think that's not a class to brag about doing well in, but I'm good at it," Jonathan said with an insistent nod of his head.

"Magical Creatures is a class like any other," Remus said softly. "It requires you to know the creatures, their characteristics, their origins, and their care. It's not as easy as some would make it."

"Exactly!" Jonathan stood up, his face flushed with excitement. "I mean, almost everyone knows about Crups, but do they all know that Muggles get Crups confused with Jack Russell terriers? And then there are Clabberts. They get sick when they eat fish. How many people know that?"

Remus felt the muscle in his jaw tighten, and he closed his eyes briefly. "Have you seen a Clabbert?" he asked. The question was meant only to give the boy a chance to talk some more about something he liked in the hopes it would cheer the boy up.

"Oh, yes. Just this past summer, I saw one at a carnival. It could make you laugh just by grinning at you. Even my dad said it was the cheekiest thing he'd ever seen."

"Oh really? What other animals did you see?" The question sounded innocent, but Remus felt an icy finger of dread poking him in his gut.

"There was a hippogriff and a centaur… But the amazing thing was the werewolf. Can you believe the carnival actually had a werewolf?"

"No." The word was whispered before Remus even knew it.

Jonathan Blotts laughed. "That's what my friend, David, said when I told him. But he talked his older brother into taking him to the carnival a few days after I'd been there, and he saw the werewolf, too."

Remus stared out over the trees, his thoughts snarled like a ball of yarn after a Kneazle had been at it. "You've never seen a werewolf before? Knowingly?" he asked as casually as he could. His voice was steady. His hands were not, so he shoved them into his trousers pockets.

"No." The young Ravenclaw's forehead furrowed. "Mr Lupin, do you think—?" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "Never mind."

Remus might have let the question go unasked any other time. But, in this particular instance, considering the topic they had just been discussing, he felt almost Imperiused to ask, "Do I think what, Mr Blotts?"

The boy altered his question slightly. "Have you ever met a werewolf?"

Keep it simple. "Yes, I have."

"Was he, well, was he like we are?" Jonathan asked.

Remus suddenly had the urge to laugh hysterically. "In what way?" he asked, giving himself time to stuff the completely inappropriate laughter back into a dark corner.

"Does he think like we do? Or feel things like we do?"

Don't get defensive. He doesn't know. "Is there a particular reason why you're asking these questions, Mr Blotts?"

The boy seemed uncomfortable, and wouldn't look Remus in the eye. "It's just that, when I saw the werewolf at the carnival, he didn't — he wasn't — oh hell," Blotts swore. "He just didn't act like I thought he would. He was just sitting there, reading a book, and he didn't look up, even when my cousin said —" The boy blushed. "Well, it wasn't nice, at any rate. If my cousin had said it to me, I'd have jinxed him. And considering what they say about werewolves, I thought for sure that he'd have tried to attack my cousin. But he — didn't. He just sat there, reading his book, ignoring us. Is that — normal? I thought they were supposed to be mean and uncontrollable. Even in their human form."

The werewolf to whom the questions were addressed lowered his chin to his chest in thought for a moment. Slowly, though, he raised his eyes until he was looking right into Jonathan's. "Mr Blotts — Jonathan — I am going to tell you something that I'm not sure you'll believe."

He watched the boy steel himself for whatever he was going to say next.

"Many werewolves are not what many people are brought up to believe. Yes, they're dangerous during the full moon, and should be feared then. Throughout the rest of the month, however, a werewolf is no better or worse than any other human being. Some choose to be everything bad that people think them to be. But there were some people who chose to be Death Eaters— they chose to be evil and do evil. Is the entire human race condemned as evil, then?"

"No," Jonathan whispered, his eyes wide.

Do I dare go on? Why not?"Understand, Jonathan, that before a man is bitten, he has the same hopes and fears as anyone else. He wants a good job, a nice place to live, friends, and a family of his own. After a man is bitten, he still has those same dreams. The only difference is that he comes to realize he can never have those things. Either the Ministry keeps them from him, or those around him — his family, his friends, his lover, his employer — can't get past the fact that once a month he is — not himself."

"How can they?" Jonathan asked after a moment. "I mean, a werewolf is a Dark Creature. A creature, not a human —"

"Semantics," Remus snapped. "Created out of fear and perpetuated by the Ministry and the ignorant. And sometimes those two things are not mutually exclusive." He sighed and leaned his arms on the top of the wall again. "What's even worse is when a werewolf truly comes to understand that his life is not his own again; it's ruled by the moon and the Ministry. Good jobs and good fortune then become like — moonlight: bright and beckoning, but untouchable."

He could almost hear Sirius' voice saying, "Oh, bloody Merlin on toast, it's Professor Moony," when he looked over his shoulder at the Ravenclaw and said, "The statistic is that fully a fourth of all men who become werewolves between the ages of eighteen and thirty-six kill themselves within a year. Do you know why?"

The boy came over and imitated Remus' stance, his shoulder mere inches from the taller man's. "I would suppose it's because that's when you're trying to get a good job or start your family, right? And that's when you start realizing how difficult it will be."

"That's when a girlfriend decides it's easier not to deal with a lycanthropic boyfriend. That's when a young wife begins to wonder if she has to worry about unborn children carrying a Dark curse. That's when a wife starts to panic that the children already in the home will be eaten at the next full moon should the walls and wards fall." Remus shook his head. "And employers will always keep a werewolf for about six months and then fire him for work missed because of full-moon related injuries." He gave Blotts a half-smile. "There's a joke that goes around every so often: Why do so many employers fire werewolves so quickly? Because they don't want to try to figure out an appropriate retirement gift other than the traditional silver watch."

The boy chuckled, knowing he was expected to. "You seem to know a lot about it," he said. "Were you and this werewolf close?"

Does he not see the scar across my nose and cheek? Does he not see the scar on my jaw only inches away from his eyes? Doesn't he remember seeing me?

"Yes," Remus replied.

"Is he your brother? Or a cousin?"

Remus gave him a lopsided smile. "Does it really matter?"

The boy flushed and looked away. "No, sir, I don't suppose it does."

A thestral rose from the forest and drifted almost lazily on the air currents for a few minutes before dropping back to where it had come from.

"They're very graceful for as ugly as they are," Jonathan commented.

Remus shot him a quick glance. The boy's eyes were focused on the point at which the thestral had disappeared. "They are," he agreed.

The boy looked at Remus, surprise written on his face. "You didn't ask me."

"Ask you why you can see thestrals?"

"Yes."

Remus looked down at his hands for a moment, then back out over the trees. "I know why I can see them. If I ask you whose death you saw, I know you're going to reciprocate. Frankly, Mr Blotts, I'd rather you not ask me that question, so I won't ask you."

"Oh."

Far below them, a bell rang and the boy jumped. "I have to go. I have to meet my Charms tutor." He paused. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Lupin."

"The pleasure's all mine," Remus said, hoping that his smile looked genuine enough to fool the boy.

Blotts turned and raced down the steps.

"He'll break his bloody neck running like that," Remus muttered, turning his attention back to the forest.

Peter would have protested, saying something like, "We used to go down the steps like that, Moony."

James would have added, "Don't you remember how you'd skip three steps at once, especially after your legs stretched out in seventh year? You'd jump from halfway up the staircase, if you were late for class."

And Sirius — oh, Sirius — would have laughed, as he always did, and said, "Professor Moony forgets what it's like to be a fifth year."

Remus considered that carefully. "I forget what it's like to be young altogether, Padfoot," he whispered.

Tuesday, 8 October—8:20 a.m.

Minerva McGonagall laid a hand on Remus' shoulder as she went past him. "Mr Lupin, the Headmaster said he needs to see you in his office when you're finished. He said to tell you he knows how much you like Chocolate Frogs."

Remus suddenly found himself with even less of an appetite for his breakfast than he had when he had started. He laid his cutlery across his plate and then pushed it back.

Professor Kettleburn smiled at him. "That order has the same kind of effect on adults as it does on the students," he said, nodding to Remus' half-eaten breakfast.

"As I haven't put Dungbombs in any of the classrooms and I haven't hexed any Slytherins lately, I'm at a loss to know what he could want," Remus commented with a half-smile. "That means it could be about anything, and chances are it isn't good."

"Well, shouldn't keep him waiting and put your stomach into knots," Kettleburn suggested with a grin.

A few minutes later, Remus was muttering, "Chocolate Frogs" to the gargoyle, which stepped aside.

The door at the top of the steps was ajar, and the Headmaster called out, "Come in, Remus," before the werewolf had the chance to knock. Moody and Garrison were seated in chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk. Another man who Remus didn't know was standing slightly behind Moody. A third chair was placed to the side of the Headmaster's desk; Remus somehow knew it was meant for him. As he closed the door, two more men were revealed standing where he couldn't see them until then. They were both wearing Ministry robes, and one of them had a Werewolf Capture Unit badge.

"Please have a seat," Dumbledore said with a kind smile and a gesture at the empty chair.

Remus warily eyed the Aurors but didn't move. "Can I ask why I'm here?"

"You're here because I asked you to come here," the Headmaster said, his usual twinkle missing from his eyes.

The younger man normally would have allowed himself to chuckle. It wasn't often that Dumbledore indulged in comedic turns of phrase, but when he did, Remus had always appreciated them. He knew, however, that the older wizard's attempt at humour was hiding something much darker. It had been that way many times in the past. "Then shall I rephrase the question and ask why the Aurors and Ministry officials are here so early in the morning?"

"Suspicious bastard," Moody said gruffly.

"My self-preservation has often relied on being just that," Remus replied. For the first time he noticed that Terry Garrison was not smiling. He didn't even appear to be relaxed. Shit. "What's happened?"

Moody motioned to the man standing beside him. "This is Derrick Alexander. He's with the Beast Division." He then pointed to the two men who had been standing behind the door. "That's Bryce Taylor of the Werewolf Capture Unit and Mortimer Higgins from Werewolf Services."

That name sounded familiar and suddenly Remus remembered why. He was one of the men who had questioned Remus back in May. He had been there with Carmichael. Remus froze and stared at the man with wide eyes.

"It's good to see you again, Mr Lupin," Higgins said. He offered a smile that was, at best, neutral. To the werewolf, the smile seemed a little too toothy to be completely friendly.

"Remus," Dumbledore's quiet voice drew Remus' attention to the Headmaster. "Please come and sit down, won't you?"

The young man felt sweat beading on his forehead, and a chill ran up his spine. If he sat down, he'd be trapped in this room with these men, and he didn't much care for the prospect. "I'm fine where I am," he replied, hearing his voice crack just a little and damning himself for it.

Higgins gestured to the chair and said something that, in his state of near-panic, Remus didn't understand. Moody, however, stood up and stumped over to him. He stood next to the werewolf and leaned close to Remus' ear. "It'll be over soon. I'm not going to let them do anything stupid."

Remus looked at him with trepidation, but soon found himself in the chair that had been reserved for him.

"Remus, the Werewolf Code requires you to have a wizard represent you," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes intent on Remus. "Do you have any objections to having me represent you?"

The werewolf shook his head no. He was having a difficult time catching his breath.

Derrick Alexander cleared his throat. "A complaint has been lodged against you, Mr Lupin, that you did wilfully and with malice kill two magical creatures. It has been alleged that the deaths of those two creatures did lead to financial loss as well as tarnished the reputation of an established business, namely Bentley and Parsons' Carnival of Dark and Dangerous Creatures."

"What two creatures is he accusing of killing?" Dumbledore asked, already knowing the answer but giving Remus time to collect his thoughts.

"A mermaid and a centaur."

"Shit," Remus whispered.

"Obviously, our first question is: did you kill them, Mr Lupin?" The Ministry official's brown eyes were hard and cold as they waited for Remus' reply.

Remus looked at Dumbledore, who motioned for him to answer. Moody spoke up first. "Lupin, just tell me what you said the other day."

But I admitted that I had killed Libertas… I am so fucked. "I didn't kill the mermaid. She was malnourished and maltreated when I — got there. She wasn't eating. She died within a couple of weeks after they grabbed — after I started taking care of the creatures there."

"Can you tell us what you did do to take care of her?" Alexander asked.

Remus haltingly went through the things that he did for the mermaid, from cleaning out the tank to trying to entice her to eat with foods he knew merpeople liked. Both Moody and Alexander nodded occasionally, and he found himself calming down just a bit. But he knew the questions about Libertas were coming…

When Remus had finished his account of the last few weeks of the mermaid's life, Alexander sighed. "I see nothing wrong in the care you provided for the mermaid —"

Higgins cut him off. "But how do you know that he did care for her in the manner in which he said? He might be lying. He could very well be guilty of her death."

"This is just a questioning session," Moody pointed out. "It is not for us to say if he's guilty or innocent. We just have to decide if there is enough evidence to hold him for trial."

Trial! Remus' eyes widened.

Garrison leaned closer to him to say quietly, "It would just be a trial to determine the restitution amount."

"No," Taylor said harshly. "You forget yourself, Garrison. Lupin's a werewolf. Under the Werewolf Code, if it is determined that he willingly hurt or killed any sentient being or beast — and I'm sure the case could be made that a centaur is a sentient being — he must be dealt with accordingly."

Moody's face turned a rather impressive shade of purple. "You never said anything about —"

"You've been a bloody Auror for how many years?" Taylor shot back. "You should know what happens when a werewolf is accused of something like murder."

The Headmaster cleared his throat. "But, gentleman, the determination must first be made if Remus is guilty of killing the centaur wilfully and with malice. If you decide that the centaur died under his care, or if Remus had cause to do harm to the creature—self-defence, for example—then all other arguments are useless. Correct?"

Taylor squirmed slightly as he considered the older wizard's assessment. "Yes, that's true." With more confidence, he added, "But we all have to agree that there was no malice."

"And how do we know he's telling the truth?" Higgins persisted. "Werewolves are known for their duplicitous nature. It might be better to hold him for trial anyhow."

"Mr. Higgins," Dumbledore interrupted. "I resent your generalization. I can't think of a single time when Remus Lupin could ever have been considered 'duplicitous.' He was a prefect while here at Hogwarts. That should prove that he had earned my trust, as well as the trust of the staff while he was a student, and I can assure you that nothing has happened since then that would have changed my mind."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," snarled Taylor. "Do you have any Veritaserum lying around? Dose him with that."

Remus felt his entire body tighten at the thought of Veritaserum. There had been only one time that he had been plied with that substance: right after the Potters' deaths. It had been brutal. The Aurors had been so certain he had known Sirius Black's plans and were bound and determined to get a confession from him one way or another. When he had maintained his innocence, they had become convinced that the potion hadn't been strong enough to counteract his basic Dark nature. Two days of Veritaserum overdosing and silver restraints had finally convinced them otherwise, but it had left him sick and nearly unable to walk. And it was only Moody's and Dumbledore's intervention that had gotten him released at that point.

And they said I was just being questioned then, too. Is this going to be just like then?

"Veritaserum is not necessary at this stage in the process," Moody was arguing.

"For Merlin's sake, Moody," Taylor said with an explosive sigh. "It's not like it's going to kill him or anything."

Remus hunched his shoulders and focused on his hands which were tightly interlaced and resting on his legs. As the argument went on around him, he chose to ignore it. They'd decide what they wanted him to do, and he'd have no choice but to do what they said. He didn't want to take the stuff. But if he did, they'd have to believe that he had nothing to do with the mermaid's death. But they'd know I killed Libertas. It was a terrible double-edged sword, and he was going to get cut one way or the other…

The conversation came to a crashing halt with a single question: "What do you think, Lupin?"

Startled, Remus raised his eyes to meet Moody's. "I'm sorry?"

"What do you think?" The man demanded.

What was the question? Were they even still discussing the Veritaserum?

His chest hurt. His lungs and heart were conspiring against him, making him ache with despair and fear.

"Were you even paying attention?" Higgins voice made him flinch.

"Thinking of lies to cover up what he's done," Taylor commented in an undertone.

Remus felt his face flush with anger. "I'm not going to lie about what I've done," he said quietly.

Taylor made a sound of disgust.

"You say you didn't kill the mermaid," Alexander said. "What about the centaur?"

Will they believe me, that I had no choice? That Libertas was dying anyhow? Moody was staring at him with as much apprehension as he'd ever seen on the Auror's face. Moody already knew the answers. He was worried that Remus was going to not only take the rope that he'd been given, but make a tidy knot and slip his head through the noose. But Remus had to say something. "The centaur escaped," he finally said. "They tracked him down and shot him. Parsons asked me to heal him, but I couldn't."

Moody was still watching him closely and he knew why. He had to remain in control. He had to keep the wolf at bay. The Werewolf Control officer was just waiting for him to make a mistake.

"So the centaur died of his injuries?" Alexander prompted.

"He was dying of his injuries when Parsons took me to him, yes," Remus hedged.

"What did you do then?"

Garrison was giving him an odd look, and he realized that he had been rubbing his aching chest. He lowered his hands quickly.

"Mr Lupin, what did you do when Mr Parsons took you to the centaur?" Alexander repeated.

Remus looked at Dumbledore, whose expression was very grave indeed. Does he think I killed Libertas in cold blood? He looks like he might believe that…

There must have been some hint of what Remus was thinking because suddenly Dumbledore smiled gently at him. "Remus, whatever happened, we must hear it. You have to tell us what you know."

He couldn't catch his breath. Was this how one was supposed to feel when they confessed to murder? "My father… he knew spells... to help creatures… beyond saving. Clemency spells, he called them."

Moody's expression suddenly became thoughtful. Garrison's, however, became more horrified as he realized what kinds of spells Remus was referring to. The werewolf didn't look up at Alexander. Instead, he turned his eyes to the Headmaster and kept them focused on the older man. "He begged me," he whispered, feeling tears well in his eyes.

"Who begged you?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward. "The centaur?"

Even through his tears, to Remus' mind, the Headmaster's eyes seemed to sharpen in intensity. But then dizziness washed over him and he closed his eyes, with the strange feeling that a link had been broken…

"What did the centaur beg you to do?" Dumbledore's voice asked again.

Remus kept his eyes closed, struggling with the tears and the dizziness — and the nausea that seemed to come with it. "He knew he was dying. He didn't want to go back to the cage." He took as deep a breath as he could before adding, "He asked me for mercy."

"Mercy?" Dumbledore repeated.

Garrison groaned. At least, Remus thought it was Garrison.

He opened his eyes slowly, again finding the Headmaster's eyes. "Clemency," he whispered. "Clementia Bestia."

There was a shocked, very still silence. And then it was broken by five voices speaking at once. Remus didn't try to sort them out, which comment belonged to which man. They were all statements that ran in the same vein, anyhow: disbelief that he had admitted it, disbelief that he had killed — murdered — the centaur…

And then, Taylor's voice, cold yet strangely triumphant, rose over them all: "That should be enough to warrant a trial and restitution, even by your standards, Moody."

Remus winced and his shoulders jerked involuntarily.

"No, it isn't enough," the older Auror snapped. "Parsons claimed that Lupin was responsible for the centaur's death, but he neglected to tell us that the creature was already dying. It doesn't sound like what Lupin did was done in cold blood, or with malice, or for any other reason other than to end the thing's suffering. I don't see how we could make Lupin completely responsible for that."

"He killed a creature!" Higgins insisted. "There must be justice for that!"

"Then we need to bring Parsons to trial as well for his part in this," Garrison said quietly, but firmly. "Or whoever it was who shot the centaur in the first place."

"Gods, you sound just like Moody," spat Taylor.

"But it only makes sense," Garrison said calmly. "If you want to talk about placing blame, then everyone who is responsible should share it. Parsons didn't tell the truth in the first place —"

"How do we know?" Taylor asked. "We've only got this —" he motioned toward Remus, "to say differently."

"Remus is telling the truth," Dumbledore spoke for the first time since Remus' admission. "There was no lie in what he said."

"You can't possibly expect us to believe that!" Higgins exclaimed.

Again the voices rose angrily, sharply, and Remus winced at the volume. He leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees, hiding his face in his hands.

A sudden firm, comforting hand rested on his shoulder, and Dumbledore whispered in his ear, "You're doing fine."

But for how much longer? The wolf wasn't clawing for dominance. Instead, he felt cold and numb, and in some ways, it was even worse. The wolf, he could fight. The chilled emptiness was something else together. It was like a Dementor, sucking the joy, the warmth from his soul, and there was no Patronus that could combat it.

Gosh, I hate cliffhangers! Who in their right mind actually ends a chapter with a cliffhanger?
Of course, I teach kindergarten, which makes me wonder if I'm in my right mind...