When Remus woke up, Professor Questus was still sleeping. Remus had, oddly enough, never seen Questus sleep before. He opened his eyes and watched Questus snore, experimentally moving his wrists and trying to get free.

It didn't work, and Remus started to panic.

He was actually trapped. He was never going to see his family again. His friends… well, they seemed to exist in this world… Peter had been similar… so he supposed he still had them. But his parents, in this horrible world, were dead. Dead. Remus couldn't fathom it—which was just as well, because it wasn't true!

His breath came short. His chest felt tight. Before he knew it, he couldn't breathe and he was going to die and his heart was beating out of his chest and visions of full moons flickered across his eyesight like a bad horror film—like the bad horror film that he was currently in—and then Questus was by his side, patting Remus' back and sighing.

Remus held his breath in ten-second intervals, and the panic ebbed away slowly. "Sorry for waking you," he muttered, before realizing that he wasn't sorry, because this wasn't Professor Questus; rather, this was some sort of demonic imposter who had no business standing in Remus' parents' house.

"You've woken me up just about every night," said Questus with an all-too familiar eyeroll. "We're far beyond apologies. Besides, you've been panicking like that every other day now."

With that, Questus left Remus' side and walked down the hallway into Remus' bedroom, leaving Remus stuck to the armchair. "Where are you going?" called Remus.

"Your bedroom. Getting you a change of clothes." After some drawer-opening noises, Questus re-entered the sitting room, his steps familiarly uneven as he struggled to walk on his cursed leg. "There you are. Same as ever. Trousers, green jumper."

"Well, I can't very well change when I'm stuck to an armchair," retorted Remus.

"Ah," said Questus, chuckling a bit. "That's right. I really am sorry about that, Lupin. Go on, then. Bathroom's right across from your room." Questus pulled out his wand. "Please don't take any unconventional detours."

Remus sighed and trudged to the bathroom. He was a prisoner in his own home, and the warden was a man whom he had once fully trusted and believed to be dead.

Life—or whatever this was—was cruel sometimes.

Remus took a long time showering and brushing his teeth before finally changing his clothes and returning to the kitchen. Questus had scrambled some eggs and made some (unburnt) toast. "Have something to eat, please."

"No."

"Lupin, I really need you to eat. You've not been eating properly for months. Keep this up and you won't survive the next transformation."

"Perhaps I don't want to," said Remus, crossing his arms. He didn't really mean anything by it, but Questus immediately sagged in his chair and let out a whooshing breath of frustration.

"Yep, I was afraid of that. You're trying to starve yourself to death."

"I'm not!"

"You are. You're grieving, you're depressed, you're amnesic, and now you're suicidal."

"I'm not suicidal!"

"Then eat," growled Questus. "This is one of the only things that I can't force you to do. Eat something—I don't care what. You don't even have an excuse to skip meals, because it's nowhere near the full moon."

Remus shook his head. "I'm not eating a thing," he said. "Never. Not until you let me go home."

"I suppose I'm going to have to get food for you myself," grumped Questus. He stood up with some difficulty and limped to the kitchen, where he prepared a plate for Remus and set it in front of him. "You're not getting up until you've finished eating."

"You're not my father."

"I'm as good as, unfortunately. And it'll be official as soon as the Ministry stops being so stupid. I'm sorry you feel that life isn't worth it, but I'm not going to let you die. Eat."

"I'm not suicidal. I just want to go home."

"Is this what your parents would want? Eat!"

"I know exactly what my parents want. My parents want me home. They must be worried sick…"

"Lupin, listen to me. Your parents are dead. They are dead! They're not coming back!" Questus slammed a fist against the table, and Remus jumped. His eyes felt hot, and tears started spilling over onto his cheeks. He stared at the plate, now blurry because of the tears in his eyes. Now that he'd started, it was difficult to stop.

"Oh, no. Don't cry again. I'm sorry," said Questus. "Goodness, I can't do anything right. Please don't cry. I'm very tired of tears."

"Please," Remus begged. "Just let me try to get home. Let me try, and then I'll never mention it again. I'll eat as much as you want and I'll go to Hogwarts in September and I'll try my best to be happy and I'll…"

Questus looked agonized, which was a look that Remus didn't often see on his former professor's face. "Stop it, Lupin. I know you don't remember much, but I hope you remember that I'm on your side, okay? I promise I'm not the villain here."

Remus rather disagreed, but he didn't say anything. He just stared at his plate, trying in vain to stop the steady flow of tears that was dripping down his nose and into his eggs.

"I've avoided giving you rules because I didn't want to act the part of a parent—I know I can never replace your own, and I shan't try to do so. Besides, you're responsible. You're frighteningly mature for a child of your age. If you weren't thirteen… and you weren't mourning too severely to take care of yourself… then I have no doubt that you could have lived alone, even."

Remus shook his head. He couldn't live alone. He needed his parents.

"I was hoping that we could have more of a roommate kind of relationship," Questus continued, "a bit like the one that I had with two of my colleagues when I was an Auror. I didn't want to make any rules, because I knew that you were even better at setting and following your own rules than I am sometimes—hence the whole situation with Orion Black that got me sacked the first time. I can't even set rules for myself, much less a child. You understand what I'm trying to say, right?"

Remus nodded, miserable.

"I am, however, older and wiser (in certain categories). I am also officially your caretaker for the time being—and hopefully for the rest of your underage life, unless the Ministry has anything to say about it… which Dumbledore and I will assure that they do not. And because you are the child in this household—because you are putting yourself in danger—because you need guidelines to keep yourself safe—I am going to set a few rules until you're feeling better. The first is that you need to eat. The second is that you need to sleep. The third is that you are not to go near the Memory Magnolia again. In fact, you're staying indoors until I get it professionally removed."

"What?" cried Remus. "No! I want to try, Professor! It might work!"

"Or it might get your memory erased for the second time, and your mental sanity might not survive that! Or mine, for that matter—I do not want to have to watch you process the fact that your parents are dead for a third time, nor do I want to assume guardianship of a mentally-addled teenager! I'm trying to be patient with you, but I'm not a patient person by nature. You know that. And I understand grief: both my sister and girlfriend died rather violent deaths. I get it. But your mental state is so much more complicated than mine ever was, and the persistent belief in an alternate universe isn't helping matters. Please, Remus, promise me…."

"NO!" shouted Remus. "No! This isn't real! You're not real, you're not Professor Questus, you're a… a vine demon or something."

Questus was silent for a bit. "Again, that sentence might be amusing if it wasn't highly disturbing."

"You're not Professor Questus. You're not acting anything like him. And he's dead."

And the vine-demon-thing really wasn't how Remus remembered Professor Questus—some things were the same, but others were so wildly different that it made Remus' stomach roil. But the scary part was… perhaps it they weren't. This was exactly how Remus would have expected Questus to act in this particular situation. Questus, who was uncomfortable when dealing with intense emotions—Questus, who had always been so protective of Remus because Remus reminded him of his own late sister—Questus, who had no patience and got frustrated easily when others didn't think exactly how he did—Questus, who favored logic and intelligent discussions over emotional encounters.

Remus had no doubt that Questus really would have taken him in had his parents died. He had no doubt that Questus would have fought the Ministry every step of the way to take custody of a werewolf child. And he had no doubt that it would have killed Professor Questus to spend so much time with a grieving Remus who was falling apart from the inside-out, because Questus was never that weak and he didn't understand what it was like.

Professor Questus seemed different because he'd assumed a new home and new responsibilities, and something like that tended to change a person. He wasn't just a carbon copy of Remus' memory. He felt so real, so human.

Was it real? Remus couldn't be sure anymore. How could a plant possibly get all of that right and create a working alternate universe on top of that? It seemed impossible.

"You're stubborn, that's for sure," sighed Questus. "Unfortunately for you, so am I. Eat."

Remus stared at his food, and then he looked back up at Questus. "Your leg is worse than it was," he commented.

"Because I've been taking care of you nonstop. I'm on my feet all day, just about."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not like you were the one who killed your parents."

Remus nodded. Then he realized that he was actually starting to believe the Visionvines' lies, and that was completely unacceptable. He summoned all his courage. "I'm sorry for other reasons, too. I'm not eating. I'd rather die, and I hate you," declared Remus, lifting his chin up in a very Sirius-esque fashion.

Questus groaned, mumbled something that sounded like "stupid Gryffindors", stood up, and then retreated into his bedroom. Remus heard the scratching of a quill. Just as he was considering making a run for it, Questus returned, an exasperated look on his face. He sat back down, let his cane clatter to the floor, and steepled his fingers under his chin before drawing a deep breath.

"My parents made a lot of mistakes when they tried to help me mourn my sister," he said. "Well, actually, they didn't try to help, and that was the mistake. They just blamed me. They never got over it, and they held me back when I did. I resented them for the rest of my life. Here we are, living in the same general vicinity, and I don't want to make the same mistakes that they did. Typically, I couldn't care less when people hate me… but I want you to have a… a family, or at least a semblance of one. You've not had an easy life, and I can't see it being a long one, either."

"Okay, but—" Remus started, but Questus cut him off.

"You're allowed to be angry at me, Lupin, even though it's totally unreasonable and idiotic. I'm going to try to stay out of the way and let you visit your friends as much as you want. You need not come home for Christmas, Easter, or even summer. I'm simply here to be there for you when you need it, and to provide a legal home and a safe place to transform. You don't need to like me. But I am sacrificing a lot for you and I hope you appreciate that I, like you, have lost everything—and I, like you, wish it were me dead and not your parents. But that's not how it happened."

"I want to go home," said Remus again.

"You're acting like a child."

"But I want to go home!"

"And I want you to mourn and get over it like a normal person! We don't all get what we want!"

"I'm perfectly normal!"

"You're not normal! You're a werewolf, you're annoying, and you're an orphan!"

"I'm not an orphan!"

"You are! Look, I've tried to be diplomatic. I've tried to grow a filter. I've tried very, very hard to say things that are appropriate for the ears of a mentally fragile, teenage werewolf. But that's not who I am, so I'm going to give it to you straight. Your parents are dead. There was a fire. They were taking a walk in the town. The fire burned everything in the town, including your parents, to the point that nothing was left—not even skeletons. Fiendfyre can reach up to thirty-two hundred degrees Fahrenheit, and it chases all life forms so that no one escapes. Some people managed to drive or run away fast enough that the Fiendfyre did not register their body heat and therefore did not consume them. Your parents were not one of them. They are dead. No one can survive that, least of all an average wizard and an average Muggle."

"Why didn't they Apparate?" demanded Remus.

"I'm guessing it was because they didn't see it coming. Fiendfyre moves rather quickly, you know."

"You're lying."

"I'm not lying! Have I ever lied to you?"

"Madam Pomfrey said that there was something that you weren't telling me! She was always angry at you! She said you were keeping a secret!"

"Pomfrey is an exceedingly stupid woman," said Questus—and of course Questus couldn't tell him. This version of Questus knew nothing that Remus didn't already know, because he wasn't real.

Remus and Questus glared at each other for a few moments, and then the doorbell rang.

Questus narrowed his eyes at Remus before getting up to answer it. Remus didn't risk leaving the table while Questus was gone—he didn't think he could survive another few hours glued to a chair. The person at the door was Professor Dumbledore, judging by the scent: for a few moments, Remus was hopeful. After all, Professor Dumbledore was always right, wasn't he? Perhaps he'd somehow gotten into the Visionvines and was now trying to rescue Remus. Perhaps Dumbledore was the only being that was perfectly good and decent and helpful in all universes, not just the one that Remus lived in.

"Dumbledore," said Questus, clearly relieved. "Thank you for responding to my owl so promptly."

"Anything for you and Remus," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "I know it's hard right now, but I promised that I would do anything I could to help either of you. What do you need?"

Remus listened to Questus fervently recount the story of the Memory Magnolia—his own version, not Remus'. To Remus' great surprise, he seemed to break down a bit at the end. "I don't know what to do," Questus said. "Everything I've done so far is completely void now. I can't figure out how to convince him, I can't see him ever recovering from this, and I've hardly gotten any sleep in months. I don't know if I can keep doing this. I want to, obviously, but I'm so tired."

Remus felt awful, but then he remembered that Questus was actually a malevolent vine spirit and toughened up.

"Rest," said Dumbledore quietly. "Go to the forest alone and take some time to yourself. Take as long as you need; I've nothing to do and I don't mind staying overnight. You're doing a fine job, John."

Questus chuckled dryly, suddenly himself again. "Fine job? We've just had a massive row. Seems we can't stop bickering lately. Good luck calming him down."

Remus listened to Questus' uneven footsteps fade away, and then Dumbledore was in the kitchen with Remus. "Remus," he said. "How are you doing?"

Remus spoke as quickly as possible, as if his lifeline would disappear if he spoke too slowly. "Professor," he said, "this isn't the right universe. I mean, it's the wrong one. I need to get home. You need to let me go to the Visionvines again so that I can go home before my parents start to worry too much…"

"Your parents are dead, Remus," said Dumbledore gently, and Remus groaned.

"No, not you, too!" Remus rapidly thought about his options and then decided to play along and see if it changed anything. "Look, Professor," he said, "I know that Professor Questus is right. I know that there's probably no alternate reality. I know that this is really, really hard for him, and I know that it would be easier if I just accepted the fact that… that my parents are dead. I know."

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "I am inexplicably glad that you agree."

"But I can't get it out of my head," Remus continued. "I can't stop thinking… what if? What if things could be better? And I need to try, Professor… I need to see for myself. Then it'll be easier to accept. And if my memories are wiped again… well, then you can just Obliviate me of every false memory that the Magnolia puts inside my head. I give you express permission. And then it'll be easier for Professor Questus… and easier for me. I don't care if I'm addled beyond repair; honestly, I think I've already achieved that. Just let me try."

Professor Dumbledore seemed to consider that for a moment. "Very good reasoning, Lupin," he said, and for a moment he looked just like Professor Questus. "But you've forgotten one detail."

"What's that?" asked Remus. He was terrified, but he didn't exactly know why.

"I don't need your express permission to modify your memory."

Suddenly, Dumbledore was standing up, and he morphed into Fenrir Greyback. Remus scrambled out of his chair and backed up towards the door, filled with dread. "Oh, fiddlesticks," he murmured.

Greyback grinned, and blood dripped down his chin. "You know, you were right to begin with. Nothing's real here, Remus." Greyback held his hands out, gesturing to the sides of the house and everything beyond. "You can do whatever you want… give into whatever desires you may have… kill people. It won't matter. They're not real; they're only figments of your subconscious." He reached out towards Remus with twisted claws, and Remus shrieked a bit and stumbled backwards.

"Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh," Remus muttered. "Please don't come any closer."

Greyback smiled even wider and then glanced towards the window… the full moon was high in the sky, and he began to twist and morph into a giant wolf with snapping jaws… the wolf took a few steps forwards, and its fangs gleamed in the moonlight. Remus' back was against the wall now, and he stared at the wolf of his nightmares with horror. He couldn't move.

Suddenly, the wolf was shifting again: now it was Dav Ragfarn, the man in charge of the Werewolf Registry. "You don't want to hurt anyone, do you?" said Ragfarn, twirling his wand between his fingers. "You want to be safe, yes? You saw what happened to your friends: they disappeared. You're no longer a part of the real world, Remus. As long as you stay here, you won't hurt anyone who's real. Not even if you escape. Not your friends, not your family… no one. They're all safe as long as you stay here. In the real world, you've just ceased to exist. Isn't it easier that way? Isn't it a nice feeling, to disappear?"

"Oh dear," Remus whimpered.

Ragfarn turned into James… then Sirius… then Peter… then shifted between the three rapidly. "We don't want you around," it said. "We're too polite to say so, that's all. It's easier for us if you stay here."

"That's a lie," said Remus.

And then the Thing, whatever it was, was Remus' own father. Unlike the others, he spoke softly and without judgment. "It's all right," he said. "You can stay. Your mother and I will find another child, one who's a little less high-maintenance. Perhaps we'll take in Sirius. Once you're gone, I'll talk to my family again, and your mother can talk to hers. It's the perfect happy ending. You can stay, Remus. We're not worried about you one bit—we know you'll do the right thing."

"You'd never say that," said Remus, but his voice was shaking. "You love me; I know you do."

"We do, which is why we want what's best for you," said his father, and then he was gone… and in his place was the full moon.

That was when Remus realized.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. His hand was shaking, but he managed to point it at the full moon. "Riddikulus," he said.

It didn't work the first time. Remus said it louder and envisioned what he wanted it to turn into clearly in his mind. "Riddikulus!"

All of a sudden, the full moon fell to the ground: it was now a large pile of Visionvines. Remus stepped into the shimmery green light… and then…

He tumbled onto the soft grass and mud, still shaking.

The first thing he noticed was Peter's face, looking worriedly down at him. The second thing he noticed was his parents' scent—far away, but definitely there. The third thing he noticed was James—his spectacles were broken, but he looked relatively unharmed—and Sirius, who was clinging to James. Remus sat up and allowed himself a small, lopsided smile. "Whatever the heck that was," he said, "a secret passageway is not worth it."

The next thing he knew, he and his friends were rolling around on the ground—the very real ground!—and laughing so hard that Remus was sure that one or all of them would die from asphyxiation.

AN: Okay, storm's over. You can take off your hats now.