"Madam Pomfrey?"

"Lupin? Why are you here?" Madam Pomfrey had been taking another student's temperature, but now she ran over to Remus and began looking for some sort of injury.

"I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey," said Remus, embarrassed. "I just… I think I might have found an allergy, and I wanted to see if you had any sort of cure, because I'm never going to live it down."

Madam Pomfrey stared. "An allergy?" she repeated.

"Yeah."

"So it's not any sort of injury?"

Remus nearly rolled his eyes. She was always worrying that one of his wounds would reopen (especially so soon after the full moon), but that hadn't even happened before.

Well. It had, actually. It had been back in Remus' second year, and he'd ended up bleeding all over. He'd had to enlist the help of James, and it had been very embarrassing.

But that was pretty much the only time, if he didn't count all the times it had happened while he was still in the Hospital Wing, or the few times it had happened and he'd patched himself up without telling Madam Pomfrey, or the numerous times it had happened at home…

Anyway.

"It's not an injury, I promise," said Remus.

Madam Pomfrey immediately began rambling—things like "Are you sure?" and "How are you feeling other than that?" and "Have you been sleeping all right?". The student whom Madam Pomfrey had been helping was now looking at the two of them curiously, and Remus figured he'd better step in just in case Madam Pomfrey gave something away (though he knew she knew better than that). "I think that student needs help," Remus said, interrupting Madam Pomfrey's babbling (she was currently on "Do you need a Calming Draught?", which was Remus' least-favorite question).

"Ah, yes," said Madam Pomfrey quickly. "Yes, I'll help you right away, Mr. Rushton."

Remus sat on a bed and read a book while Madam Pomfrey finished up shoving some potions down Rushton's throat, and then she ushered the other boy away and turned back to Remus.

"Now that the Wing is empty, I need you to tell me the truth," she said. "It's not your leg? It sustained another nasty wound last month—why is it always that leg?"

"I don't know why I always go for that leg," said Remus impatiently, "and I was telling the truth. It's an allergy, I think."

"And you said you didn't want your friends to know? What are you allergic to? Quidditch?"

Remus ducked his head slightly and mumbled, "Garlic."

"What? I didn't catch that."

"Garlic."

"Come again?"

"Garlic!"

There was a moment of silence, and then Madam Pomfrey began to laugh.

"It's not funny," grumped Remus, crossing his arms over his chest. "People can't even tell werewolf rumors and vampire rumors apart as it is. This isn't going to help."

Madam Pomfrey didn't stop laughing. "However did you find out that you were allergic to garlic?"

"Well, James had a garlic bomb, and he was using to it scare away a cat…"

"Please tell me that the cat in question was not Mrs. Norris."

"What? No. Noooo. No way."

"I'm not sure I believe you, but I'm not going to press the matter. How severe is it?"

"Not severe. My throat hurt a bit, and my mouth itched, and I was sneezing all over the place."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head, still laughing. "Not severe, you say? I don't know if I believe you. After the first full moon at Hogwarts, you told me that you weren't in pain…"

Remus was laughing now, too, even though he didn't want to. "I was flustered and I didn't know what to say! Will you ever let that go?"

"Apparently not, because you haven't stopped acting like that since."

"I'm getting better."

"Yes, you are." Now she smiled and grabbed Remus' hand, prodding it gently with her wand. "I'm about to do a diagnostic charm, all right?"

"Sure."

After a few moments, Remus' hand turned red. He stared. "What does that mean?" he asked.

"It means," she said, stifling laughter, "that you do indeed have a mild allergy to garlic."

Remus fell back onto a pillow, groaning. "I thought so," he said miserably. "You can get rid of it, though, right?"

"No. There are potions that I can add to garlic products to make them safe for you to eat, but I can't get rid of an allergy. How on earth have you never noticed it before? Surely you've eaten garlic in the past."

"Well, yeah. A lot, actually."

"But you never noticed that you were allergic?"

"Well, it always hurt my mouth a little, and sometimes I sneezed, but I never thought much of it. A mild allergy makes sense, I guess."

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "See, that's the trouble with you, Remus. You have such a high pain tolerance that you don't notice when something is wrong. You're constantly in pain from the full moons, so why would take note of a smaller, less severe pain?"

"I'm not constantly in pain."

"Oh, I think you're recovering from one wound or another—or prepping for the next full moon—pretty much twenty-four-seven. And I'm fairly certain you have some form of arthritis in multiple joints. But my point is: pain is often helpful. It's a warning signal of sorts. Ignoring it all the time might cause something terrible to happen."

"Oh, yeah," said Remus in mock amazement. "Is that why I end up in the Hospital Wing so much? I ignore my pain? Perhaps if I'd just acknowledge it, I wouldn't transform at all!"

"You know what I mean."

Remus laughed. "Yes, I do. I am getting better at telling you about these things, aren't I? You said so yourself. I don't use that forbidden word nearly as much. And besides, I'm here now. I think, had I still been in first year, I wouldn't be. Do you know how incredibly difficult it is for me to visit the Hospital Wing when it's not a full moon? No offense, but I'm rather sick of this place."

"You're right, and I'm proud of you," said Madam Pomfrey with a smile. "Now, if you're absolutely certain that you're fine, you may go back to class—but stop eating garlic. If you really must, then come to me beforehand."

"But you said it was mild. The reactions I have don't really bother me."

"No, Remus. Allergic reactions can be unexpectedly serious, even mild ones."

"Should I stop going out in sunlight, too? Wear dark clothes? Drink blood? Get a pet bat to replace Bufo?"

Bufo, who was currently on Remus' shoulder, croaked in protest.

"You're not a vampire," chuckled Madam Pomfrey, "you're just allergic to garlic. Besides, vampires aren't allergic to garlic. They have an adverse reaction to it, like you do with wolfsbane, but they aren't allergic. You're not a vampire."

"Still. This is so painfully ironic."

"Lots of things about your life are painfully ironic. Take your name, for example—two wolf-related names right after another."

"That's not irony. That's coincidence—and it's not even that, because my father visited a Name Seer. Linguistically, there's a difference."

"Don't be a brat."

"Fine."

"That's another five minutes."

"Madam Pomfrey!"

The next morning, James snuck out to the pitch to get a little bit of Quidditch practice in (his next match was in about two hours). Sirius, Peter, and Remus ate in the Great Hall without him, just as they did whenever he had morning Divination tutoring. Sirius was trying to spear as much bacon on his fork as humanly possible, and Peter was watching him with awe.

"You're barbaric," said Remus.

"Says the werewolf," said Sirius, grinning as he chewed the bacon as dramatically as possible. Remus didn't even have time to beg him to be quiet before Sirius said, "I confessed to Prongs yesterday about Tiffany."

"Amanda," corrected Remus. "Or Charlotte. You keep changing it. Your fake girlfriend?"

"Yeah, her."

"And what did he say?"

"Said he sorta suspected it all along. I totally failed in making him realize the error of his ways."

"He's taking all the electives and playing Quidditch, Padfoot. Unless 'the error of his ways' include being ambitious and hardworking…"

"Yeah, they do—because those are Slytherin and Hufflepuff traits, respectively. Prongs is a Gryffindor."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. You were just jealous that he wasn't spending as much time with you."

"A horrible accusation." Sirius speared some more bacon onto his fork. The entire fork was now a mountain of bacon. "But yeah. That's not as much of a problem anymore, though. Dumbledore is scheduling my Assistant Headmaster duties for about the time Prongs is gone for Div tutoring."

"Ah. You and Peter are taking Divination, too, aren't you? How is it?"

"So easy. So easy. The professor is this bloke named David—"

"Surname?"

"Lavindeep. But he doesn't even believe in Divination as something that can be learned. He thinks that you either have the Inner Eye or you don't. He teaches us the theory and tea-leaf reading and all that, but he gives us good marks as long as we try. He doesn't actually expect us to See anything. We mostly learn about how to recognize real Seers and prophecies vs. fakes."

"That sounds interesting."

"What are Arithmancy and Ancient Runes like?"

Remus smiled. "Oh, fantastic. Arithmancy is a lot of work, but it's actually pretty fun. Dumbledore is a great teacher."

"I can imagine."

"Ancient Runes is just memorization—"

"—and we all know our Moony lives for memorization—"

"Shut it. Point is, I'm having fun. It's a good year. I'm keeping busy, and keeping busy keeps me away from… going places I don't want to go."

Sirius frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I dunno. I'm just scared, mostly. There's a lot going on in the world, isn't there? Death Eaters and Voldemort and things?"

"Careful," chuckled Sirius. "People are starting to treat 'Voldemort' like a dirty word."

"Professor Questus always hated that. He always wanted people to talk about uncomfortable things—said that avoidance only makes fear worse." Remus took a sip of his pumpkin juice and mulled that over. "I promised him that I wouldn't ever use You-Know-Who, and I won't," he decided. "It's Voldemort all the way for me."

"But you're still scared."

"I'm still scared. I…" Remus took a long glance around him to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "As uncontrollable Dark powers are on the rise, the Ministry will start cracking down on the Dark powers that they can control—namely, Registered werewolves. They could even issue a mass execution, though I doubt that'll happen. But Voldemort recruited werewolves, so attacks have been steadily increasing… all werewolves are going to be punished, aren't they? And, if Voldemort does take over the Ministry somehow… well, Padfoot, I'm a werewolf with a Muggle mother. My chances of surviving this war are very, very slim."

"There's no way he'll ever find out about you, though."

"All my records are at the Ministry. I have to Register every year, remember? My address… my age… photographs… even my height and weight are in there. Full transcripts of conversations I've had with case workers, too. All the information in the world is at their fingertips."

Peter made a small whimpering noise, but Remus ignored him. He didn't have the energy to comfort him right now—not when he had no comfort to give.

"And, talking of the Registry, I have to go back soon," said Remus dully. He put his fork down. He was no longer hungry. "Still waiting for the letter. It'll come any day now."

As if on cue, Bluebottle, James' owl, swooped through the air and dropped the Prophet on Remus' lap. "Thanks, Bluebottle," said Remus, and he let him eat a bit of his food—he wasn't going to eat it anytime soon.

Peter looked at Remus, wide-eyed. "Is that the…?"

"No. Not the Registry summons. Just the Prophet." Remus opened it up and began flipping through it, keeping his eye open for more attacks… and then he saw something that made his stomach lurch violently. "Oh, no," he murmured, and he could hear sounds of dismay coming from the other students as they, too, read the offending article.

Death Eater Threat on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

After vandalizing the train and murdering a professor, the Death Eaters seem to have been targeting Hogwarts for a long time. Recently, they have made an official and public threat against the popular school of magic via an anonymous message sent to the Minister. "Rest assured: there is no possible way that Death Eaters could invade Hogwarts," says Minister for Magic Eugenia Jenkins. "I do, however, urge all families with children to proceed with caution."

"The Death Eaters think they can scare families into submission with threats," says Marquis Simmons, a successful Auror. "The Ministry saw this in the war with Grindelwald as well. Evil forces who want to make a splash, so to speak, start with children. They get to the root of it. The children at Hogwarts, if the Death Eaters succeed, will grow up in fear of the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who; their parents may pull them out of Hogwarts, making it more difficult for them to fight back if attacked; and we all know that parents would do anything to save their children. And what's more, they're trying to get every one of us to turn against each other—even the children."

Specifically, the Death Eaters have claimed that there is a spy inside Hogwarts who has plans to commit mass murder on 6 February. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, was unavailable for comment.

"What's the problem, Moony?" asked Sirius.

Remus looked up at Sirius, and he could feel his face turning progressively paler with every second. "You should read this for yourself," he muttered, thrusting the Prophet toward Sirius.

And then, as pandemonium began to trickle through the Great Hall, Remus Lupin exited as quietly and quickly as possible.

This wasn't good at all.

"Professor Dumbledore," Remus said, knocking on the door. "I'm sorry, I've forgotten the password, but it's really important, and…"

The door opened immediately and revealed Albus Dumbledore, looking graver than Remus had ever seen him. "I agree. Please come in, Remus. Quickly."

Remus did, and Dumbledore wasted no time in shutting the door behind them. "Professor, the Prophet," started Remus.

"I know about the Prophet, Remus, and I share your concerns. Are your things in your dormitory?"

"Er… yes…?"

"Excellent." Dumbledore had been pacing furiously, but now he stopped and trained his gaze on Remus. "I am going to go to the Great Hall to calm down as much of the student body as possible. Then I am going to ask your friends to pack your trunk for you. You understand that you cannot stay at Hogwarts in the current climate, yes?"

Remus cast his gaze downwards and nodded.

"Good. I am very sorry, Remus, and I shall do my best to help you in whatever way I can."

Dumbledore turned to leave, but Remus called him back before he reached the door. "Professor?"

"Hm?"

"I just wanted to… I mean, this probably isn't the best time, but I'd like to thank you—because, even though it didn't last all seven years, I really enjoyed going to Hogwarts, and I'm very thankful…"

Dumbledore stopped altogether, and then he started walking back toward Remus. He put both hands on Remus' shoulders—one hand on each—and Remus managed not to flinch when Dumbledore's hand touched the edge of the bite from so many years ago. "Remus," said Dumbledore, and his voice was gentle yet firm. "Your departure today is not permanent. There are a few things I need to clear up, but I swear on my life that you will be back here as soon as possible. I don't want you to worry."

Remus nodded. His throat felt tight, and he didn't quite trust himself to speak.

"I understand that it is difficult growing up in the midst of a war, and I understand that it is much more difficult doing so as a werewolf. I sympathize, and I know this isn't pleasant, especially after the difficult year you've just had. Please know that I have made it my personal mission to make Hogwarts open to all people regardless of extenuating circumstances—and that includes you. Hogwarts isn't safe for you right now, no, but it will be. I promise. In a world of suffering and fear, my ultimate mission is to make Hogwarts a safe haven for all."

"Thank… thank you, Professor," said Remus. He felt a bit like he was going to cry (for multiple reasons). "That helped."

Dumbledore smiled. "My pleasure. I need a bit of practice comforting students before I do the real thing in the Great Hall, anyway." Then his voice got a bit firmer and he said, "Remus, I need you to stay here, no matter what happens. I'll be back in no more than half an hour." He gestured to a small bowl of Bertie Botts' on his desk. "By all means, help yourself. I have crossword puzzles in my desk."

Nonplussed, Remus murmured, "Thanks," and watched Dumbledore leave the office.

The door shut behind him, and then Remus collapsed into a chair and started to read the Prophet over and over and over again.

…a spy inside Hogwarts who has plans to commit mass murder on or around 6 February…

Remus was inside Hogwarts. He was a creature of the Dark. Both the Ministry and maybe even the Death Eaters (thanks to Fenrir Greyback) knew him to be a werewolf.

And February sixth was the full moon.

A few months shy of a year ago, Dumbledore and Remus had chatted about the prospect of Fenrir Greyback letting Remus' secret slip. After all, Greyback certainly knew that Remus was a werewolf. Dumbledore had assured Remus that Greyback probably did not think Remus important enough to single out. He probably didn't even know Remus was in Hogwarts. It was possible, even likely, that Greyback didn't even remember Remus—not amongst the hundreds of his other victims.

But this was too much of a coincidence. Perhaps, for one reason or another, the Death Eaters (and perhaps even Voldemort himself) knew about Remus' affliction. Perhaps it was Fenrir Greyback. Perhaps it was a spy in the Ministry. Perhaps it really was sheer coincidence. But, no matter what had caused the threat, the Ministry certainly wasn't going to let Remus off easily. They were going to interrogate him within an inch of his life come Registry Day—oh, Remus was in some serious trouble, and he knew it.

Remus allowed himself a long, heavy sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair. He stared at the wall. He breathed: in through his nose, out through his mouth.

And then, after a long moment of worrying in solitude, Remus pulled out a crossword puzzle.