Directly after Madam Pomfrey let him out of the Hospital Wing, Remus headed straight for the Great Hall, longing to hear some good old-fashioned noise. Before he could get there, though, Leek nearly knocked him over whilst hurrying through the corridors.

"Lupin!" he said breathlessly. "Sorry. So sorry. Are you okay? It's good to see you. How's your hearing?"

Remus grinned. "All better," he said. "Thanks so much for letting me know what was going on at the last Quidditch match. I was horribly confused."

"Oh, no issue at all. Just common decency."

"No, no—you went far above common decency, Professor. Your class was one of the best. You gave me independent work while you taught the class, remember? Yours is one of the only classes I don't feel behind in. And you visited me in the Hospital Wing, remember?"

Leek chuckled, seemingly embarrassed. "Yes, well. You were far ahead of everyone else to begin with. And visiting you in the Hospital Wing wasn't a very big deal, of course."

"It was, though. I was lonely that month."

Leek chuckled again. "Well. Er. I'm always glad to help. So… while I have you here, I wanted to speak with you about your project. Did you fix the spells and the graphs?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, good. Right, then. I think we can start the actual simulation activities as soon as you're ready."

Remus nearly dropped his satchel. "Really?!"

"Yes, of course. You're properly prepared—as much as possible, I mean. This evening?"

"Yeah, I'd love to," said Remus. "Thank you so much."

"You're very welcome. I always love discussing higher-level arithmancy concepts with students, and there aren't many that give me that opportunity. I'll… er, yeah. I'll see you then."

"See you then!" said Remus, and then he practically skipped to the Great Hall.

Things were looking up!

As Remus approached the Great Hall, he realized that he was about to be very uncomfortable.

After a month of hearing nothing at all, the Great Hall was remarkably noisy. He'd expected it to be noisy, of course—he'd counted on it—but this was horrific. Remus was about to walk directly from a quiet hospital room to a pack of chattering students, and already he knew that it was going to be torture.

The closer he got to the Great Hall, the louder the noise got—it was almost like bringing one's hands closer to the flame; it hurt more as he got closer, and he feared being burned if he got too close. But noise couldn't hurt him, right?

Remus stepped closer and closer, and finally—finally!—he arrived in the Hall. The noise reached a painful crescendo, and Remus couldn't help covering his ears.

When Remus had arrived at Hogwarts, he'd been entirely unused to the noise. He remembered having to remind himself, again and again, to stop covering his ears—it looked weird, it made him stand out, and he had to get used to it, didn't he? But little first-year Remus had been terrified of crowds. He'd been scared of Diagon Alley. He'd been uncomfortable at King's Cross. Quidditch games had been torture at first. The first day in the Great Hall had frightened him so much that he'd felt overwhelmed the whole time. The heightened hearing, paired with the fact that Remus had just about never left his quiet house (or houses, plural, since he'd moved around so much), had made for a very scary first few days at Hogwarts.

Remus had gotten used to it, of course. He was a resilient, adaptive person, and it was easy to become desensitized to noise (much easier, in Remus' experience, than becoming desensitized to lack of noise). But now Remus had to start all over—at least for a little bit.

He took his hands from his ears, eased himself into the Great Hall, and sat next to his friends. "Hi," he said.

"Moony!" said James. "Here, have some jam."

Remus looked at the jam. "You've done something to it, haven't you?" he accused.

"What? I'd never!"

Remus held it up to his nose and took a whiff. "Just as I suspected. It's a potion from Zonko's that makes you float, isn't it? I saw you looking at that product. I'd remember the scent anywhere."

James groaned. "You're no fun."

"Neither are you, if this is your lame idea of a joke."

"Fine, then," said James, pouting. "What's your idea of a good joke, Moony? If you're just the expert… which is stupid, because you have no sense of humor sometimes. Tell us. What's a good joke?"

Under the table, Remus put a nonverbal Sticking Charm on James' shoes. "The key to a good joke is a delayed reaction," he said. "You'll find out after breakfast."

It was funny, how much braver being able to hear made Remus. And, as Remus watched James struggle to remove his feet from the floor and step away from the table, as he watched Sirius descend into hysteria and Peter giggle wildly, as he watched Sirius snap a photograph of the distressed James… Remus realized that he'd already adjusted to the noise.

It was funny, how much braver having friends made Remus.

"Professor Leek? You asked me to meet with you this afternoon?"

Professor Leek opened the door at the sound of Remus' voice—he looked a bit out-of-breath, almost as if he'd been exercising, and he immediately began stammering his pathetic attempts at "welcome".

Remus almost laughed. It was so different from when Professor Questus had opened the door for Remus before his duelling lessons—Professor Questus had always been perfectly composed, a little bit bored-looking, and quick to make a snarky comment. He'd been the composed one, and Remus had been the awkward one… but now, it was the other way around.

Come to think of it, the way Leek opened the door was also different from how Professor Dumbledore opened the door whenever Remus went to talk to him. Professor Dumbledore was always calm, airy, whimsical, dressed in garish colors, and asked Remus how he was doing emotionally within the first couple of minutes. Leek didn't do that. He merely opened the door for Remus and let him walk inside, rambling about something that Remus didn't quite understand, what with all the vocal fillers mixed in. Dumbledore never said "er", "um", or "right, so".

The way Leek opened the door was also different from how Professor Craff had opened doors, with her confident derision… and Flitwick with his earnest bounce… and Finley with his scholarly smile. Remus decided that the way a person greeted another could tell a person a lot about them.

And now, Leek was milling about the classroom, babbling about food and Pixies and everything in between, and Remus was patiently waiting for him to get started.

"So… simulations," he prompted after a while, after it had become clear that Leek wasn't going to get started anytime soon.

"Ah, yes!" said Leek. "Terribly sorry. I've been frazzled today. Er… I made you some tea. It's on the table. Simulation can be grueling work, and I often find tea can soften the blow."

Remus looked at the tea and frowned. He knew he shouldn't drink it; after all, he'd gotten poisoned the last time he drank something that wasn't from the Great Hall or Madam Pomfrey, and it was entirely possible that it had been Leek. But… Remus didn't think it had been Leek. Remus trusted Leek.

"Thanks," said Remus, and he took a long sip. He didn't notice anything off.

"We're not going to do any testing today," said Leek, "because we haven't finished all the spells. But we do need to create the general testing area—and you'll use it to tether the spells. Got it?"

"Yes, that makes sense, sir."

"Good. Okay. Right, so, you see this Pensieve?"

"Yes. sir. I have eyes."

Remus regretted the sarcastic comment as soon as it left his lips, but Leek only laughed. "Okay, good. Do you know how to use a Pensieve?"

"Yes, sir. Professor Dumbledore actually gave me one in my first year—he said it would help with nightmares."

"Ah, good. Now, there are two main uses for Pensieves. I assume you know at least one."

"I think I know them both. The first is memory storage—letting go of memories so that they can stop crowding one's mind—and the second is memory-viewing, right? Going back and seeing old memories."

"Precisely. Did you know that memories can be tampered with?"

"No, I didn't."

"Well, it's very difficult, so I imagine you wouldn't have seen it in action before… but yes. Memories can be tampered with. It's very hard to do, and it's even harder to do it convincingly, but it is entirely possible to fix a memory in a manner that, if it were viewed again through a Pensieve, would be entirely different. That's how we conduct simulations, and that's why they're so hard."

"So how exactly does one tamper with a memory?"

"It all has to do with will and focus. Do you know anything about Muggle polygraphs?"

"Lie detectors? Don't they analyze heart rate and stuff to figure out if a Muggle is lying?"

"Yes, sort of—but they can't truly determine if someone is lying, because humans are often quite good at lying to themselves. Either they convince themselves that they're guilty when they're not, or they convince themselves that they're innocent when they're not, and then the physical effects don't match up with the truth. Tampering with a memory is a little like tricking a polygraph. You have to really make yourself believe something—not permanently, but just as you're extracting the memory—and then it becomes true."

"So which memory of mine do I have to alter, and how would that help with a simulation? I don't understand."

"Well, we need a setting to perform the simulation. So I'm going to need you to recall a full moon night perfectly—but I want you to recall it with no wind, no clouds, no weather, exactly room temperature, and—most importantly—no Remus Lupin. And I need you to imagine this memory stretching… oh, about ten hours. All night. Can you do that?"

"I'm not sure. It's not even a memory then, is it? It's just a… just imagination."

"Well, yes and no. It's imagination built off of your memory."

Remus noticed that Leek was a lot less awkward when he was discussing simulations—it was clearly a passion of his, and Remus knew all about becoming less awkward when discussing passions. "So I need to extract a full moon memory, but I need to convince myself that it's nothing more than a controlled environment with nothing but the full moon, the castle, and the Shrieking Shack?" Remus asked, scratching the back of his hand in thought.

"Precisely. And then, when we begin the simulation, we can change and test the individual variables as we go."

"I'm not sure I can do that. Why can't… why can't we have you do it?"

"Well, two reasons. First of all, it's your project. Second of all, I hope you can keep working on it over the summer—and, to do that, you'll need to make this control memory over and over, because one memory will only keep for about three tests. You'll also probably need to do it in different locations to test that variable as well—where do you transform at home, may I ask?"

"Cellar."

"Yes, you'll need one of your cellar, too, eventually. And the third reason—and easily the most important—is that we need you to feel something when we go into those memories to simulate. You won't transform, and you won't feel anything near the actual pain of transforming—it is painful, isn't it? Albus mentioned that it was painful."

Remus slowly nodded.

"Sorry. Er. Didn't want to bring up memories, but… only curious. Sorry. Right, so… you will feel something, but it'll be more of a ghost of a memory. You won't actually experience it, but you'll still have the memory. That'll be what actually generates our data. And the key to those sensations is that you have to come up with the memory—it has to be yours, because you won't feel much of anything if it's mine. After all, I'm not a werewolf."

Remus took a sip of tea, considering. "Yes, that makes sense."

"And this is why an experiment like this has never, ever been done before. It is essential that a werewolf does it himself, and most werewolves don't have the education, specific skill, or equipment. This is a… not even a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Remus—this is a once-in-a-history opportunity. This is huge! Words really can't describe how ecstatic I am that… I mean… wow."

Remus chuckled. "I wouldn't get your hopes up, Professor. I'm not entirely certain I'll be able to do it. From what I've read, tampering with memories is really hard."

"I think you can do it. Just depends on how good you are at lying to yourself."

Remus thought back to his conversations with Professor Questus. He thought back to how many times the man had told Remus that he was lying to himself, or he was convincing himself of something that wasn't true, or just how many times Professor Questus had managed to chip away at Remus' exterior and tell him what he was really feeling, which was almost never what Remus had initially thought he was feeling, but always felt so much more right and rational….

"I'm told I'm extremely good at lying to myself," said Remus with another sip of tea. "Where do I start?"

As it turned out, Remus wasn't nearly as good at lying to himself as he'd initially thought.

No matter how hard he tried to imagine a variable-less Shrieking Shack, he could not. He imagined the picturesque scene, devoid of any type of weather or temperature, devoid of clouds, devoid of Remus with his beating heart and shaking hands and the fear clogging his every pore… no matter how hard Remus tried, he couldn't do it. Together, he and Leek ended up watching countless distorted memories, memories with one thing changed, memories with too much weather or too many clouds… and, no matter how hard Remus tried, he could not remove himself from the memory.

Fortunately, Remus always managed to pull them out of the memory before he transformed, but he was still terribly embarrassed that Leek had seen him quivering and sweating on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, strands of wet hair sticking to his forehead and eyes red-rimmed, sometimes crying, sometimes just about retching from the enormous pain… it was a good thing that Leek felt about as awkward as Remus did about it and pretended that it wasn't a big deal.

Remus couldn't help but wonder how Questus would have reacted, though. There was just something about receiving private lessons from a teacher that reminded Remus of his previous private teacher… and Questus definitely wouldn't have acted like Leek. He probably would have cracked a few jokes. Made a few blatantly insensitive comments. Made Remus feel terribly uncomfortable, but the discomfort would eventually fade instead of lingering—embarrassment suspended in the air—the sort that Remus currently felt around Leek.

But Remus tried not to think about Professor Questus. He tried not to think about himself. He tried not to think about anything at all, because right now he was focusing on removing his mind of all memories, not generating them.

But, no matter what he tried, he could not remove himself from the memory.

"Argh!" he cried as he pulled himself out of the latest memory, completely frustrated. "I can't do it!"

"It's okay!" said Leek hastily, as if he was worried Remus would break. "It's all right. You're doing great. You've already managed to manipulate a few environmental factors—that last one would have been nearly perfect if you hadn't been in it."

Remus collapsed onto the chair and drank the rest of his tea, entirely spent. "Why is it so important that I'm not in it?" he complained. "That's the hardest part! I can't get myself out!"

"It's very, very important. We can't have a memory Remus in there—Memory-Remus oughtn't respond to the adjusted variables. Only real Remus ought to do that. And, as long as Memory-Remus is in there, you won't feel the effects of the adjusted variables at all. They'll all be absorbed by Memory-Remus. Understand?"

"I understand," grumbled Remus. "It's just stupid is all I'm saying."

Leek laughed. "Yeah. Er. Yes. Would you like another cup of tea?"

"Yes, sir. Please."

Leek fetched Remus another cup of tea, and Remus started sipping slowly, determined to make this cup last a little bit longer. "Why am I so bad at this?" Remus asked. "I understand how to do everything else. I understand how to remove the rain and the weather and the clouds. I'm still having trouble doing it all at once without distorting everything, but at least I'm making progress. But I can't get myself out, no matter what I try!"

Leek pursed his lips. "Do you want to hear my theory?"

"Yes, of course, sir."

"Well. You know I've done a lot of simulations, of course. And usually, when people can't remove themselves from the memory, it's because they can't do it emotionally."

"Like… I need to control my emotions attached with the memory?"

"Precisely. For you, the Shrieking Shack is positively dripping with negative emotions. You're never thinking about the location—just the plain location with no Remus-thoughts attached to it. Your thoughts and emotions are always attached to it, so you manifest in every extracted memory. That's natural, of course. But the only way you'll be able to remove yourself is if you convince yourself that this memory is detached from you. You need to convince yourself that you're not a part of it. You were right—you're extraordinarily good at lying to yourself, which (despite the negative connotation) can be a massive strength. You're brilliant at controlling the way your brain processes technical information. The part you're having trouble with is getting those emotions under control, too."

"Like Professor Questus always said," mumbled Remus.

Leek wrinkled his nose. "Pardon?"

"Oh, er… Professor Questus. He was my first-year Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He was always telling me to be less emotional."

"John Questus? The Auror?"

"Yeah… did you know him?" Remus' heart soared. He was always hoping for someone else to know Professor Questus—even though pretty much everyone that Remus knew had known Professor Questus, Remus would never get tired of knowing another person who could share this utter burden of carrying on someone's memory.

"I did," said Leek. "Not well, of course. But I was working on a project at the Ministry and I saw him a few times. He kept… er… telling my crew to make ourselves useful and get out of the way."

"Oh."

"Yes. Not the nicest of people, and his reputation and arrogance preceded him. But I will say that I went back for another project last year, and he changed a lot when he met Bethany Webb. Let me tell you. Patient. Quieter. Almost kind. Affectionate. I thought the world was ending."

"Bethany Webb?"

"He dated her before the Peebleton… werewolf… attack… oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bring that up…"

Remus hastily shook his head. "No, it's fine. I mean, I wasn't involved or anything. It had nothing to do with me."

"I know, but… erm. Okay. My point is: he got better, didn't he? Less rude."

"I think so," said Remus quietly. "I think there was always some good there, though; he was just terrible at letting people see it."

"Were you close?"

"Yeah, he moved next to my house two summers ago. We exchanged letters all year."

"Oh." Leek looked more awkward than ever. "I didn't mean to insult him. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. He never minded getting insulted. Think he enjoyed it, actually."

Desperately wanting to avoid more awkwardness, Remus stood up and stretched. He finished his tea, and then he looked at Leek beseechingly. "I'm not going to get it today, Professor," he said.

"Oh! Yes, of course. Of course not, I mean. I never expected you to. You made very good progress, though."

"I can keep working on it in my dormitory. I'm free on Sunday if you'd like to meet up then."

"That would be perfect. Thank you very much for your work today, Remus. It's always a pleasure to meet someone dedicated like you. And Remus?"

"Yes?"

"Having emotions isn't always a bad thing; in fact, it's often a very good thing. Controlling them doesn't mean suppressing them—it's just means that you're organizing them more neatly, I suppose."

"But… for the simulation, wasn't I supposed to pretend that they weren't there?"

"Well… yes, but only for this particular activity. Just… control your emotions, but not because they're bad, all right?"

Remus shook his head and laughed. "Yes, sir. Thank you. I'll be leaving now."

"Very well," said Leek awkwardly, and Remus left.

Somehow, he missed Professor Questus even more.