The day finally arrived: Remus was going back to class, and he was terrified.

You may stay one more day in the Hospital Wing if you don't feel ready, wrote Madam Pomfrey. In fact, I would like it very much if you did. Even though you're technically well enough to attend classes, another day to rest, gain weight, and catch up on assignments may be greatly beneficial to both your health and your academics.

"No, I have to go back," said Remus. "If I keep putting it off, I know I'll never do it. I just… I don't want to answer questions. I won't even understand the questions. There's something about not being able to hear that makes me feel… left-out. Out of the loop. Helpless. Stupid. You know?"

Not being able to hear doesn't make you stupid.

"I didn't say it made me stupid. I said it made me feel stupid. Everyone knows what's going on except me."

Well, if you ever feel like you don't know what's going on in class, I would recommend staying after and getting a teacher to help you out.

"Yeah, I plan on it. It's embarrassing, though. Even though the professors already know what I am, I feel like I'm reminding them whenever I need special treatment. I don't want to remind them. I want to be… I want to be Just-Remus."

You are Just-Remus, and Just-Remus happens to be a werewolf. There's nothing wrong with that.

"By definition, there literally is. But thank you. You know, my friends aren't speaking this month, either. In solidarity, they said, and so that people won't suspect me if we're all incapacitated." There was another, bigger reason, too—the Mandrakes—but Remus wasn't about to tell Madam Pomfrey that. Even though he knew that telling a staff member had a good chance of shutting down (or at least complicating) their Animagus attempts, Remus felt sort of like they would wonder whether he even belonged at Hogwarts if they knew he was causing other students to put themselves in danger. That was, after all, almost exactly what the Ministry had feared upon Remus' arrival at Hogwarts.

Yes, I heard about that, wrote Madam Pomfrey with an eyeroll. Trust me, the staff won't stop talking about it. I heard Professor Sprout the other day waxing poetic about how quiet her class was yesterday.

"I'm not surprised. They chatter a lot."

Even though I do feel that they're going a bit overboard, I'm happy they're doing this for you.

They weren't doing it for Remus—well, actually, they were, but for an entirely different reason—but Remus was thankful nonetheless, even though he was also terrified. "Yeah," he said after a short moment of silence. "We're all claiming to have been hit by a nasty hex. Peter said he'd pretend that he couldn't hear, either. I told him that he didn't have to, but he says it's more believable if multiple of us have symptoms. James and Sirius both offered, too, but I wouldn't let them. I don't think they can do it."

Honestly? Neither do I. Now, Remus, I do want you to stay for breakfast this morning. I want to check you over one last time, all right?

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey. Thank you."

I'm just doing my job.

Remus' friends (as per Remus' request via notebook) stopped by the Hospital Wing after breakfast to walk with him to Charms. I just don't feel comfortable walking by myself, Remus had written, and it was true. It had been enough of a learning curve to learn to navigate in Hogwarts—Remus had been homebound for his whole life, and he'd primarily relied on his sense of smell to navigate (a fact he disliked to admit even to himself). After coming to Hogwarts, he'd realized that his enhanced senses didn't exactly serve him well in large crowds of people. They didn't help a bit, and they raised Remus' stress levels by about two hundred percent.

But walking down corridors without any sound, as Remus discovered, was infinitely worse. There were so many people, and they were pushing past each other and brushing against each other as they walked through the crowded corridors—and usually, Remus could hear when someone was behind him, but not today. There were so many people, there wasn't any sound, and it was all very unnatural. He clung to Peter as they walked, who looked sympathetic.

After a very weird, totally silent stroll, the Marauders arrived at the Charms classroom. Professor Flitwick had obviously already been briefed; he nodded his head once at Remus as Remus took his seat, and it was a nod that was full of unspoken sympathy and affirmation. Remus wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Suddenly, something touched his shoulder, and Remus nearly jumped out of his skin. He whirled around and spotted James, who mouthed, "Sorry!" and passed piece of parchment to Remus.

Remus rolled his eyes and unfolded it. Remember, the parchment said, we aren't doing any speaking today. None at all. Got it? Not even a sound.

I wouldn't know if I made one, wrote Remus.

Doesn't matter. My point still stands. No sounds.

Fine, fine.

Professor Flitwick was saying something, but Remus had no idea what he was saying. He watched Flitwick's face carefully, but it was absolutely impossible to figure out anything the man was saying… it was then, however, that Remus thought he saw Flitwick say his name.

Was that me? he wrote.

James nodded and wrote, Yeah, he's just explaining what happened so that no one asks you questions. Said that Peter cast a bad hex, and now we all don't speak, and you and Peter (who were in the front and got the full force of it) can't hear. Don't

Suddenly James looked up and shook his fist at a student. Professor Flitwick chastised him, it looked like, and James nodded (but he still looked angry). Sorry. Benny from Hufflepuff was trying to tell me off for passing notes. Stupid of him. He isn't even a Prefect or anything. Anyway, all of your teachers have been asked to brief everyone about our injuries for the first class. That way, no one asks questions that you can't answer.

There was a flurry of movement out of the corner of Remus' eye; everyone was pulling out their textbooks. Hesitantly, Remus did the same. You will take notes for me, right? he wrote to James.

Begrudgingly, yes. And for Worm, because he's pretending he can't hear, too.

"Too"? I'm not pretending.

You know what I mean. But yeah, I'm taking notes. I'm such a good friend, aren't I? Absolutely brilliant. Amazing.

As he read James' messy handwriting, Remus realized that words felt entirely different when he wasn't hearing them in James' voice and watching James' eyebrows waggle as he said them. The ocean of silence that had been encasing Remus' head for days now seemed to move in closer as Remus reflected on all he was missing.

He sat in class, totally bored, as James furiously took notes. Remus tried to read over his shoulder and follow along with the lecture, but he eventually gave up—it was simply too hard. He ended up staring at Flitwick's face rather passively for the entire classroom. A quick glance at Peter told him that Peter was doing the same, but at least he could actually understand what was going on.

It felt like hours before Flitwick's lecture finally ended. Remus watched as his classmates took out their wands.

Flitwick was walking up to Remus and his friends now. He said something to James, and James nodded—then Flitwick took James' parchment and wrote (by hand), The four of you are excused from this assignment. I know Lupin is rather versed in nonverbal magic, but it's too difficult to perform a nonverbal spell without having first made a successful verbal attempt. Did we get Mr. Lupin the notes he needs?

The four Marauders nodded. All four of them were crowded around a tiny piece of parchment, and it was rather hard to see, but they got the gist.

Now, I know that three of you have no impediments whatsoever. I personally don't think your silence in solidarity should be allowed, especially since your cover story has barred Lupin from speaking as well as hearing, but I know all four of you are talented enough to catch up on your own. Besides, now that you've already told people that story (without staff permission), it would be too suspicious to retract it. If you find yourselves having trouble, then my office is nearly always open. I still expect you each to take the test on time, and the spells we'll be learning over the next month will surely be on the exam. All right?

They all nodded again.

Thank you. Lupin, I'll be happy to help in any way I can. We have a Duelling Club meeting today—do you still expect to attend?

Remus hesitated, and then nodded.

Wonderful. I shall see you then.

Professor Flitwick gave Remus a warm smile, and then he hopped away to help some other students with their spells. Meanwhile, Remus read and reread James' notes until he had every facet of them memorized, and James, Sirius, and Peter engaged in a silent but furious swordfight with their wands.

After a while, Remus joined in. It wasn't as if he could do anything else, anyway.

The only classes that Remus had any hope in being successful in were classes that did not require verbal spellwork. Transfiguration was terrible. Charms was a lost cause. But Potions, most of Arithmancy, Herbology, Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures went… not well, but still better. James dutifully took notes in every class, and he only complained that his hand was falling off about twice a minute. For James, that was quite the accomplishment indeed.

Remus went back and watched the full moon memory for his project, and he realized very quickly that his lack of ability to hear also affected his ability to hear in memories. He'd thought for a moment that it wouldn't, but alas. It was probably for the best, though; Remus was never fond of hearing his own ragged breathing and pained whimpers as he waited in the Shack, nor was he fond of hearing the low growls and howls he made as a wolf. He normally left right before the transformation, but today he stayed and merely closed his eyes until he figured it was over. It didn't make any difference, anyway.

However, Remus ended up being very thankful that his friends were pretending to be unable to speak for him (and even more thankful for Peter, who was actually doing a very good job of pretending to be as deaf as Remus was). If Remus had been the only one with impairments, it would have been very suspicious—and people probably would've been talking about him, Remus, far more than they were right now. Even though Remus couldn't hear the corridor chatter as he'd used to, he knew that the other students were likely talking about James and Sirius rather than Remus. They were more popular than he was, so they were the main event. Remus, who much preferred staying under the radar for fear of his peers discovering his condition, was thankful for the fact.

Remus asked his friends to go to Duelling Club with him, but they declined. We have to work on… that potion, James claimed via parchment. But you can go on without us!

Remus frowned. He'd enjoyed having his friends about—they were sort of like those seeing-eye dogs that Muggles sometimes used (wizards preferred cats, apparently. Remus' father had once told Remus about a seeing-eye cat that one of his coworkers had used, but Remus had never met him, or the cat, in person). Remus felt safer with his friends around, because he was so disused to navigating without his sense of hearing that having a few extra people to help was quite the blessing. Even just walking down the silent corridors alone made Remus feel unsafe and exposed.

Somehow, he arrived at Duelling Club with all limbs attached and no permanent injuries (he had, however, accidentally bumped into a sixth-year, who didn't know a thing about Remus' incapacitation and had started yelling at him a bit (well, Remus had assumed he was yelling, but he could have been whispering with very exaggerated mouth movements), and then Remus had gotten all flustered and tried to apologize, but then he'd realized he wasn't supposed to be talking, and then he'd just sort of snuck away as inconspicuously as possible. Things were certainly much more awkward when Remus couldn't hear).

Flitwick granted Remus a welcoming sort of smile as Remus stepped into the Great Hall for the meeting, and Remus tried to smile back. He took a seat in the back and passively watched as Flitwick started saying things to the crowd.

Remus didn't have anyone to catch him up, and he didn't like it.

Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He nearly jumped out of his skin, but he managed to keep it firmly attached as he turned around and came face-to-face with Lily Evans and Severus Snape.

Evans said something.

Remus brought his hand up to his ear and waved it around a bit, mouthing "I can't hear you" and praying that Evans had better lip-reading skills than he did.

She held up a finger—her nails were painted, Remus realized. They'd never been painted before, but now they were a cheery shade of violet—and pulled out a notebook. He's telling us to split into groups of three, she wrote. Want to join our group?

Remus looked at her in astonishment, and he nodded.

Great. I figure we're aquaintances even if we're not exactly friends. You should know that Sev isn't happy, but he'll swallow his pride and deal with it. Here, Evans looked up at Snape and said something. He scowled, and then he nodded. As Remus watched the exchange, he tried very hard not to point out the fact that she'd spelled the word "acquaintances" incorrectly.

Flitwick said something else, and Remus watched as Evans and Snape listened, wishing he could do the same. After a while, they stood up, and Remus hurriedly followed suit.

Evans explained to Remus, via parchment, that they would be working on their reaction times. One person, at a random time, would pick a person to disarm, and the other person was to do their best not to flinch.

I don't get it, Remus wrote. Why is flinching bad? Honing reflexes is good, isn't it, even when you're not actually about to be hit?

She shrugged. Flitwick told us that flinching at none-duel-related things wastes valuable time and focus. He also said that it's important to recognize what's a threat and what's not. And that this will improve focus.

Okay, wrote Remus. Who's going first?

I'll go first. You stand there by that table. She looked up from the parchment and said something to Snape, who nodded curtly and went to the other table.

The three of them stood like that for a while, in a triangle, each of them gripping their wands. Remus and Snape eyed Evans warily, waiting for her to strike—and then, in an instant, her wand flicked upwards, there was a flash of light, and there was a movement on Snape's end—he'd blocked the spell, and Remus had flinched terribly.

A short glance at Evans and Snape told him that both of them were laughing. Remus tried not to groan. It hadn't been his fault, necessarily—he had just panicked, thanks to the sudden movement.

Remus had taken duelling lessons with Professor Questus as a first year, and one thing they'd worked on had been honing Remus' excellent sense of hearing for quicker reaction times. As it turned out, people tended to inhale before casting a spell (whether nonverbal or verbal), and speeding heart rates signified an upcoming attack. Remus had learned to recognize these signs—nay, rely on them—and, now that he didn't get any sort of warning, he tended to panic. This meeting of the Duelling Club was going to be downright painful.

Sure enough, Remus flinched on the next go, too. And the next. And the next. And the next. Why are you only hexing Snape? he wanted to scream at Evans, because, if it had been Remus, he most certainly would have blocked it.

And so Remus stayed completely still on the next go, determined not to flinch… and then the spell his him full-force in the face, his wand was yanked out of his hand is if by an invisible string, and Remus had to suppress a yelp.

Evans ran over to Remus earnestly, a look of regret and sympathy on her face, but it was marred slightly by her twitching mouth. She was trying not to laugh at him, and Snape wasn't even trying.

"Sorry," mouthed Remus, and she patted him on the shoulder before running off to fetch the parchment.

I think you and I should switch places for the rest of the exercise, she wrote. No offense, but you're REALLY bad at this.

Remus rolled his eyes and grabbed the quill, unable to take that sort of criticism. He wasn't really bad at it. Professor Questus had trained him for about half a year. Remus had pored over the man's duelling notes for ages and ages. He'd read just about every duelling book in the library. He wasn't bad at anything duelling-related—he just felt unsteady on his feet, unbalanced in general, and jittery. It's because I can't hear, he wrote.

Yeah? What does that have to do with duelling?

Well, I, Remus wrote, and then he stopped, because he had no clue how to explain that without giving away his lycanthropic secret. I'm just terribly distracted, he eventually wrote.

Sure, she wrote, and she was laughing. This time, though, it seemed like it was in good fun, since she genuinely seemed sympathetic. But it still bothered Remus. Let's switch, then, shall we?

They switched—and from then on, things were a lot easier. Remus switched between Snape and Evans as random intervals, and he ended up hitting both of them on occasion (though they were both admittedly very talented). He was having fun. Judging by Snape's murderous expression, he didn't seem to be having fun, but Remus ignored it.

They switched again and gave Snape a chance at the tip of the triangle. Remus was a lot more relaxed now, and he blocked a couple of spells in a row with ease. His reaction times were perfect, so he was certain that, next time Snape raised his wand against Evans and not Remus, then Remus would not flinch. He could do this!

But Snape kept going. He didn't go for Evans. He didn't pause in between spells. The relaxed rally that Remus had been upholding quickly turned into an intense, rapid-fire series of hexes. Remus blocked them as best he could, but nonverbal magic took more concentration as his skill level (and he couldn't very well speak). The "duel" continued for ages and ages, and it was clear that Snape was not restricting himself to the Disarming Charm. At one point, Remus' arm was even grazed by a small fireball. It was all he could do to metaphorically keep his head above water.

Finally, Snape stopped. It had been rather sudden, so Remus wondered why… but then he looked to his left and saw Flitwick, waggling his finger and scolding Snape.

Remus looked at Evans, who grimaced. She handed the parchment; it said, You mustn't blame Severus. He tends to react emotionally when he's upset. He feels threatened.

Well, Remus felt threatened, too, but he wasn't supposed to be talking right now. Instead, he merely nodded and watched Flitwick say things to Snape that he wished he could hear.

That evening, he sloughed back to his dormitory and crawled into bed. Ignoring his friends' late-night pillow fights was actually more difficult when he couldn't hear them—he kept feeling the vibrations of his friends bouncing on their beds, and not knowing exactly what was causing them was a great source of distress—but he finally managed to fall asleep.

All night, his dreams were inundated with visions of wolves, Snape, and Animagus attempts gone wrong. At about five-forty-five am, he gave up on sleeping and went down to the common room—James followed him down and tried to read an Animagus book inconspicuously (it wasn't very inconspicuous), and Remus eventually fell asleep again by the flames of the fire, whose crackling he could not hear one bit.

AN: Rest in peace, Michael Gambon.