Remus and James sat in Arithmancy class, learning how to make a number chart.

"Keep substituting numbers," said Craff, "and do the arithmetic. If you get stuck, throw in a couple of sevens. They're the most common number in arithmancy, after all, and they always seem to work when no other number will."

Remus stared at the number chart. His brain was going a bit fuzzy, but in a good way. He hadn't kept Francine inside the container today—she was sitting on his shoulder (willingly, although a bit disgruntled), and the sensation seemed to be filling Remus with liquid confidence. He felt like he could do anything.

After all, a Bowtruckle liked him, and Bowtruckles were shy enough that they hardly liked anybody. Perhaps all creatures, then, had the potential to like Remus… even though he had to stay far away from them in Care of Magical Creatures class whenever possible and only go near them with a friend (that way he could pin it on them—James was always willing to take the blame for scaring the animals, it seemed).

So honestly? Remus felt pretty good today, and he doubted even Craff could dampen his mood.

"How many number charts will we have to memorize?" asked Evans.

"Only a few more common ones. We're going to memorize the one for predicting the distance that a spell will travel, for instance, and the one that predicts how long a Shield Charm will last—not to mention the famous wand-making chart that predicts the qualities of woods, cores, and lengths."

"But…" said Remus, and then he clamped his mouth shut. He wasn't about to ask something so silly.

"Remus has a question, Professor," shouted James.

Remus quailed under Craff's searching glare. "I… was just wondering… how would that first one be useful? We won't consult a number chart in the heat of a duel, will we?"

"Not every spell is created to be of use in a duel, Lupin," said Craff snippily. "You're just like John Questus. He complained about my methods all the time. Not everything is meant for duelling, and far too many people don't understand that."

Remus didn't mean to let it affect him—he really didn't—but it took him by such surprise that he immediately felt his eyes fill with tears. There weren't enough tears to be noticeable, he didn't think, so he just nodded and looked down at his desk, pretending to take notes.

James, however, wasn't so complacent. He stood up, fire in his eyes, and placed his hands on his hips threateningly. "Pull something like that one more time and I go to Dumbledore," he shouted. "Or I'll hex you myself! You clearly can't be very good at duelling if you think that way, so it should be easy!"

Craff blanched a bit. "Oh, I'm… erm… sorry that I upset you."

"No, you're not," said James, "and I'll thank you not to pretend to like Remus, even though we all know that you have an unfair bias against—"

"James!" hissed Remus, horrified. This was too far. James was about to tell everyone his secret, and then Remus would have to leave, and he just couldn't bear it—not after he'd gotten Francine to like him—not after Professor Questus had told him so many times that he needed Hogwarts for his own sanity… not after he was only just starting to take so many interesting electives and growing closer to his friends!

"—have an unfair bias against Gryffindors!" finished James after only a slight pause. "All the teachers do! Why can't they just recognize that Gryffindor is the best House? It's not that hard!"

The class tittered, and Remus immediately sagged with relief. That was exactly something that James would say under normal circumstances. No suspicion here.

After James had been set a detention and the class had settled down, Remus returned to his number chart, desperately trying not to think about Questus. "When will we have to start those projects that you talked about?" asked Snape, and Remus was very relieved that the subject seemed to be changing enough to distract his classmates from what had just happened. They'd probably just chalk it up to another James Potter antic... Remus was suddenly thankful that his friends were so weird.

"Anytime, Snape," said Craff, "but keep in mind that you need to finish your projects before OWLs. The more ambitious you want your project to be, the sooner you should start. Arithmancy is a highly experimental art, and more complicated projects will take multiple years."

"I'm having trouble coming up with what I want to do," said a Gryffindor boy.

"Just pick something magical that you want to be able to predict," said Craff. "It's okay if it's been done before, though you'll get more points if it has not—just don't copy off of an existing number chart. Do research. Add to existing number charts. Arrange them a different way. There's a whole section for arithmancy charts in the Hogwarts library, you know. I would suggest choosing something personal—the more invested you are in finding the answer, the more enjoyable it will be."

Remus thought about that. He didn't want to do anything with duelling, even though the subject interested him—not after what Craff had said. He remembered with a pang how many number charts there were in Questus' duelling notebook. He wondered if any of them had been Questus' own inventions, and he resolved to check in the library later that day. He wished that he could ask Questus… Remus was only now realizing that Questus had led a highly interesting life, and it was so painful to know that no one, save Dumbledore, had known him at that age and could tell Remus anything about him.

No matter. Remus would think about something else.

But what?

Oh yes: his project.

What else was personal? What else did Remus want to predict? What else was he interested in? He was interested in poetry, but that wasn't magical. He was interested in his friends, but they weren't magical, either (well, they were, but not like that). He liked runes, but he didn't know how to predict them or anything (he'd only started class a little while ago, so he hardly knew anything about them yet anyway). Perhaps something to do with magical creatures? He could predict what type of magical creatures were afraid of werewolves… no, Remus didn't want anything to do with werewolves.

But what if he did?

There were so many things that he wanted to be able to predict that had something to do with his lycanthropy. He could predict which spells and potions affected only humans and which did not. Madam Pomfrey had given him potions in the past that hadn't worked, and Remus suspected that it was on the basis of his lycanthropy, even though Madam Pomfrey swore that they were just faulty (which didn't make any sense, because they'd worked for other students).

Or perhaps... perhaps Remus could predict his transformations themselves!

He'd just been thinking about that during the last full moon, hadn't he? The anticipation was awful. He knew that the worst was coming, but he didn't know exactly when, and he didn't know how bad it would be. He and Dumbledore had talked about anxiety being a factor, perhaps, but Remus didn't know to what extent. There had to other factors, of course, and if they were consistent... well, this was a prime topic, wasn't it?

That could be Remus' project. If Remus could figure this out, then he'd know for a fact which factors made the full moons bad. Perhaps he could work to minimize these factors: but even if he couldn't, it was useful anyway. He'd know exactly when he'd transform every month. He could figure out what time his symptoms started. He would know what time he would have to be in the Shrieking Shack, and he would know how bad the moons would be. He would know which days would be two-day Hospital Wing stays and which days would be three-day stays. He would know, and then he could warn Madam Pomfrey, organize his schedule better, and come up with good excuses before long Hospital Wing stays.

He started to get excited. He could do this! The unpredictability of it all could dissipate, and then the full moons would be perfectly predictable. It would be more bearable, maybe, when he knew what was coming. The thought of more full-moon research had been daunting in the past, even though Dumbledore had suggested it… but if it was actually plausible, then…

But did Remus even want to know? Perhaps he was better off without the information.

No. What had Professor Questus said over and over and over again? Information couldn't hurt anyone!

Professor Craff continued to talk as Remus went over the exciting possibilities in his head, only half-listening. As Craff dismissed the class and they filed out of the classroom, Remus stayed behind.

"Coming?" said James, pulling on Remus' arm a little.

Remus shook his head and then patted Francine for good luck. "No. Staying after class for a bit to… to talk to Craff."

"Chewing her out for how she treated you today?" said James, his face a strange shade of red. "I don't blame you. Here, I'll stay, too—we can yell at her together."

"No! I'm going to ask about my project."

"What? But it's not due for ages." James reached out and ruffled Remus' hair, and Remus made a face and swatted his hand away. "That's our Moony, eh? Doing homework ages before it's due? You idiot."

"Stop it, James. This is important."

"What do you need, James?" called Craff, and Remus covered his face with his hands. Now was not the time for Craff to pretend that he didn't exist—now that it was just James and Remus in the room, James had no reason to restrain himself. Remus peered through his fingers, terrified, at James. He was reaching for his wand.

"Don't, James," said Remus sternly. Then he turned to Craff. "I'm really sorry to bother you, Professor, but I had a question about the project."

Craff was rummaging around in a cupboard—Remus couldn't even see her. "Go on," she said.

"I was… I mean, I… the project… will we… I mean to say, I don't care if we do, but I want to know… so do we…?"

James interrupted Remus' stammering. "Why don't you come out and actually look at him, as he seems to be having so much trouble talking to you?" said James loudly. "It's almost like you've given your thirteen-year-old student a reason to fear you, Kirsten, and maybe you should try to resolve that…."

Craff did step out of the cupboard, to Remus' great surprise, but she still didn't look at Remus; instead, she gave James a pointed, dark look. "You should stay out of things that you don't understand, Potter. I am trying my best."

"I understand perfectly! You're a bigoted, evil git!"

"I thought the Potters were staunchly against Dark magic. I don't understand why you're siding with him."

James' mouth fell open in anger and he put his hands on his hips indignantly. Remus tapped James' arm, silently begging him to stop, but nothing was working—the only thing he could do was silently watch everything fall to pieces around him. "Remus is not Dark magic!" he shouted, and Remus stood up, closed the door in a hurry, and nonverbally cast a Soundproofing Charm on the classroom. "He's not! He's just a kid! He's a victim of Dark magic, and I'm sure you will be too if you keep talking about him like that, because I am not opposed to hexing you until your eyeballs bleed…."

"Detention again," said Craff coldly. "And twenty points from Gryffindor."

Remus grimaced. James and Sirius had lost so many points already that that was sure to put them in the negative.

James, however, didn't seem to care. "Yeah? Don't care. Keep taking points, Kirsten, I dare you. I hope you die."

"James, calm down!" said Remus more loudly, but James didn't hear him.

"Why don't you take the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, huh? Then you'll be gone by the end of the year, at least…!"

"James!" said Remus again. He stood up, but James didn't see him, unfortunately. Remus walked in front of James and grasped both of James' shoulders, looking him dead in the eyes—that seemed to shock James into silence, for Remus didn't often initiate any sort of physical contact.

"Sorry," James whispered. Remus thought for a second that James was apologizing for yelling at Craff—maybe even apologizing to Craff—and his spirits lifted slightly… but then he realized that James had, in fact, been apologizing for the Defense-Against-the-Dark-Arts-teacher comment, as if anything alluding to Professor Questus' death would cause Remus to break into a million tiny pieces. Remus shook his head, frustrated, and shook James a little bit.

"Stop it," he hissed. "You're going to get yourself in even more trouble than you're already in."

"I don't care about—" started James, but Remus didn't dare let him finish.

"I'm going to stay here and ask my question, James, and you're going to tell Professor McGonagall that I'm here if I happen to be late to Transfiguration. She always makes allowances for students who have questions to ask, doesn't she? Go."

"I'm staying here with you," said James stubbornly. Remus shook him again, and James' glasses slid down his nose. "Sheesh, Remus, that's bold, for you."

"You think I haven't dealt with all this before?"

"I know, Moony, you already gave me the spiel."

"I am perfectly qualified. Now scram."

Remus was painfully aware that he'd accidentally sounded a bit like Professor Questus again: it was just the slight inflection, the way he'd leaned into the R, and the use of "scram"—but James didn't point it out. He simply gave Craff one more nasty look and then flounced out of the DAD classroom.

There was a painful silence, and Remus turned to face Craff and sighed. "I'm so sorry about him," he said.

"I'm trying my best, you know," said Craff shortly. She took a couple of steps back. "And it's not evil—or even remotely wrong—to believe that a werewolf should not be skulking about the corridors of Hogwarts, which is a human school full of human children. Especially not in a time of war, when werewolves are notably being recruited by You-Know-Who himself. And especially not while Greyback is around, who operated under the guise of an innocent human for a very long time…."

"I understand your reservations," said Remus, "and I can't blame you." That was all he said. There was no use rationalizing away an irrational fear, and there was no use arguing when Craff clearly wasn't going to change her mind. "I only had—" he shuffled his feet, hoping it would make him seem more innocent— "a question. About the project."

Craff wasn't done, though; not when James Potter was out of the room and she could voice her opinions without threat of hexes. "Not to mention that you were so close with John Questus," she added, "who was a terrible person. Really. Sulky and rude, terrible temper, kept questioning my methods… and you act like him. He didn't like werewolves at first, either, you know, but no one ever hated him for it. And he was so self-righteous, a bit like your friend James Potter. Thought he was automatically better than the rest of us just because he had defeated a few Dark wizards—serves him right that they were the ones to do him in in the end."

Remus thought that throwing his dead neighbor into his face was a bit uncalled for (especially in such an unfeeling, graphic manner), but he didn't say anything. "He was better when you got to know him," he managed.

"I hated him," spat Craff, "and he was always on your side. Shouted at me all the time for disliking werewolves—but who can blame me?"

"I can't," said Remus. "I don't like werewolves much, either."

Remus had meant it. He didn't like werewolves. He didn't want to be one at all. But Craff, unfortunately, thought that he was making fun of her and got even angrier. "And here you are, intruding upon my free period just to make fun of me and my reservations. Pretending that your feelings are hurt, but you don't even have feelings—can't fool me—"

"No!" said Remus. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. "I actually have a question about the project, and I'll leave as soon as I've asked it."

Craff crossed her arms and took another step back, and Remus heard her heart beating wildly. "Fine."

"Will we have to present the projects at the end of fifth year? Or are they more private—you know, just between the two of us?"

"You will have the option to present them," said Craff, looking anywhere but Remus. "But it's not required, no."

"Then… what if I did something with werewolves?"

Craff actually did look at Remus now, and a curious expression spread across her visage. "What would you want to do with them?" she said; her voice sounded a bit strangled.

"I'd want to… well, I can never tell… what time I'm going to transform. And I don't know when symptoms start beforehand, either. If I could figure that out, then perhaps I could be… well, I would know what time I have to be restrained… instead of waiting by myself for hours before it happens."

Craff nodded slowly, and Remus was encouraged. "And I don't know what makes some transformations worse than others," he continued. "Professor Dumbledore thinks it might be stress, but even that theory isn't one-hundred-percent foolproof. I'd want to know exactly what factors make the full moons easy or hard, so that I can perhaps improve upon them, or at least better schedule things around them… my family and I have to wait a full week after the moon before scheduling things, and sometimes I'm not even feeling well then, depending… but now we'd know. And maybe it wouldn't be so… so scary, if I knew what to expect."

Craff nodded again. To Remus' delight, she looked interested, and maybe a little bit impressed.

"And… and the W.C.U., and the Aurors, and the D.R.C.M.C.… this would help so many people, Professor, if it works. They would know exactly on which full moons the werewolves would be less vicious, they would be able to pinpoint the exact moment that werewolves would transform, and they would know when the werewolves transformed back, and..."

"You'll fail," interrupted Craff. "Do you realize how complicated this project would be? This is something that people have tried to do in the past, and all of them have failed."

"Did they fail because it was too difficult, or did they fail because they couldn't pinpoint the moment that a werewolf transformed without being in immediate danger?"

"I assume it was the former."

"But perhaps the problem is that only a werewolf could do this, and I'm the only Hogwarts-educated werewolf ever… maybe the only werewolf actively participating in school in the world. Most werewolves don't have so many resources at their disposal, and most are impoverished and ostracized besides. Professor, could I at least try?"

Professor Craff sighed. "There are a lot of factors, perhaps too many. You may choose whichever project you wish, but I'll be forced to fail you should you fail. As I've said in class: this will be your final exam."

"But, should I succeed…?"

"Then that would put you above the record for the highest score. Depending on your accuracy and thoroughness, I might have to give you up to a nine hundred percent."

Vaguely, Remus wondered if Craff hoped that he would attempt and then fail out of her class. Probably. "Thank you," he said. "That's all I need to know."

"Good," she said, sounding strained. "Please leave."

Remus did so with a newfound vigor. He was going to complete the project and earn the record if it was the last thing he did!

AN: Happy 2023!