Remus woke up the next morning. Yawned. Stretched. Said "good morning" to James, who was standing over his bed. Slipped on his gloves. Realized that James was standing over his bed. Jumped back and knocked his head into the wall. Said "ouch". Pushed James. Lay back down and stuffed his head under the pillow.

It was a normal morning, and Remus loved normal mornings.

"Wait!" said James, scrambling up from where Remus had pushed him, "I think we have a problem, Remus!"

"What's the problem?" Remus mumbled. "M'not feeling well today, Prongs. Leave me alone."

"I think that's the problem!"

Now Sirius and Peter were standing next to James—Remus couldn't see them, because his head was currently stuffed under a pillow, but he could certainly feel them—and all three had gone suspiciously silent.

Silence. Ah, finally.

But then…

"You need to go to the Hospital Wing," said Sirius, breaking the silence with the eight most horrible words that Remus had ever heard.

"M'just a bit tired, Padfoot."

"No, you… you need to go. I think you were poisoned again."

Remus sat bolt upright in bed, pillow clutched to his chest. Shakily, he pulled off his gloves—sure enough, the same green lines ran up and down his fingers menacingly, branching off towards his wrists and up his sleeves—but this time, they were protruding from a large, dangerous-looking bruise on Remus' right palm. That, in fact, was not normal.

"Fiddlesticks," said Remus.

"I can't believe it!" Madam Pomfrey practically screeched. "How on earth did you get poisoned again, Lupin? What have you been doing? Can't you stay out of trouble for one moment? You're always getting yourself into these situations!"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Well, I don't do it on purpose."

"Yes, we've already ruled that out," said Madam Pomfrey snarkily. "It's just… argh! Who's poisoning you? What have you eaten recently?"

Madam Pomfrey forced the bezoar concoction down Remus' throat, and Remus managed to gag minimally. The nausea cleared as the liquid settled in Remus' stomach, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

"Don't thank me! This is the second time you've been exposed to a deadly poison, Remus! The second time! That's a terrifying thing to happen once, not to mention twice…"

"Well, I'm sorry for being poisoned."

"Don't apologize, just tell me where you think it came from. Can you think of any common links?"

Remus really didn't want to tell Madam Pomfrey about Leek, because he trusted him fully. But… Remus didn't really want to be poisoned again, and he knew Madam Pomfrey would get it out of him at some point. "Professor Leek offered me another cup of tea yesterday," he confessed.

"I don't think it was Professor Leek," said Madam Pomfrey, and Remus nodded his agreement. "But perhaps I should ask him a few questions… oh, Remus. I'm so sorry this is happening to you; I really am. I'm going to fetch Professor Dumbledore, because now we know for a fact that this isn't randomized, don't we?"

"Or perhaps it is, and I'm just a very, very unlucky person," Remus muttered.

Why, oh why, did everything have to happen to Remus?

Dumbledore was sitting in front of Remus, fingers steepled and frowning deeply. "Remus," he said, "I think you can agree that we have a bit of a problem."

"Yes, sir, we do," mumbled Remus.

"I think it's undeniable at this point that you're being targeted."

"Yes, sir. I suppose so."

"And you have no idea who could be targeting you?"

"No, sir; none."

Dumbledore sighed. "I do believe you, Remus. I see no reason why you would lie about such a matter when your life is being threatened, and you've always been a very trustworthy student. I don't think you would lie to me."

"I wouldn't, sir. I swear."

"So it seems we are equally clueless, and that is a problem. Does it seem that anyone is catching on to your condition? This could be a case of blind werewolf hatred."

"I don't think so. I didn't notice anything, I mean."

"I must confess that brings me no small amount of relief, although it doesn't bring us any closer to the truth. Do you suspect anybody of Death-Eater-adjacent activity?"

"No, sir."

"Any illegal potion-brewing?"

"I don't think so."

Dumbledore sighed and frowned even more deeply. "Madam Pomfrey told me she doesn't think you ingested any sort of poison this time, Remus. She suspects that's what happened last time—but this time, she says you must have touched something that was poisoned—which means that this particular poison can kill a person through mere touch, which makes it extremely dangerous indeed. It is imperative that we find whoever did this to you."

Remus' stomach knotted up. "I understand, and I wish I could help. I really, really do. But I just… don't know. I have no clue."

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly. "May I ask to do something extremely invasive?"

"Er… yeah, I suppose you may ask."

"How would you feel about Legilimency?"

Remus froze. He wouldn't like that one bit—not at all. It was possible that Dumbledore would find out about his friends' Animagus exploits through Legilimency, and then they could be expelled…

Or they would be stopped. Dumbledore could simply shut down their attempts.

No! That was impossible. No teacher could stop the Marauders: Remus knew this firsthand. And then Remus' friends might blame him for telling Dumbledore, which was the absolute last thing that Remus wanted. No, that wouldn't work. That wouldn't work at all. Besides, Remus didn't want Dumbledore to see anything else, either. Remus was sure he did a plethora of embarrassing things that he didn't want the greatest wizard in the world to know about.

"I won't look at any private memories, and you or your friends won't get in trouble for anything I may see," said Dumbledore gently, which made Remus paranoid for a moment that Dumbledore was already reading his mind.

"I," said Remus, and then he stopped. Thought about it. Started over. "It's not. I mean, it is. But it's not… not that I…"

"Yes?"

"It's not that I don't trust you… because I do, Professor. I'd trust you with my life, of course."

"I suspect there is a 'but' attached to that statement."

"Yes, sir. There is… but it's not because I don't trust you! It's just that… that I don't feel comfortable… because I have a lot of awful memories, you know, and… and I don't think I can relax enough to get those out of my head. That's all."

"If that's the only thing you're worried about, then please note that I am a very accomplished Legilimens and will find what I am looking for."

"But I… I don't want…"

"Remus." Dumbledore's eyes bored into Remus', and Remus squirmed, uncomfortable. "It is okay to say no."

"…It is?"

"Yes. If Legilimency makes you uncomfortable, then that is all the reason you should need. I understand having a tragic past, and I understand wanting to keep things to yourself. I certainly understand being a private person with a life you do not want on display. I am only your headmaster, and I do not want to overstep my boundaries. You owe me nothing."

Remus vaguely remembered Dumbledore saying something similar in Remus' first year, when Dumbledore had somehow convinced Remus to hand over a memory of the full moon. It had been intensely uncomfortable, but Remus had done it willingly, and… it had helped; it really had.

But Remus was pretty certain that, in this case, it wouldn't.

"I don't want to, Professor," Remus said slowly. "Just because it's uncomfortable; nothing more. But you can ask me anything you'd like, and I promise I'll tell you anything that I find suspicious."

"Then may I ask you something else that is exceedingly uncomfortable?"

"Yes, of course."

Dumbledore frowned. "I need you to tell me the absolute and utter truth, Remus. It is of utmost importance. Can you promise me that?"

"I… maybe give me the question first." Remus stopped. What was he doing? Of course he could tell Dumbledore—unless it was about the Animagus thing, but Remus didn't see any reason why Dumbledore would ask about something as oddly specific as that. "Never mind," he said. "Ask away. I promise. I swear. Entirely, absolutely, and utterly."

"Very well. I wanted to ask… and Remus, please know that I am not implying anything… but I wanted to ask if you've been feeling suicidal lately."

Remus couldn't help it—his mouth fell open so harshly that his jaw made a loud popping noise. "No!" he said emphatically. "Why does everyone keep asking that? Madam Pomfrey and I already talked about that! I'm not poisoning myself! Trust me, if I'd wanted to off myself, then I would have been a lot more successful than this."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up, practically off of his face. "How so?"

"Well," said Remus, "I'd've done it in a more secluded place, for one, preferably when I had a lot of time ahead of me. I'd definitely use something a lot better than a dumb poison. I'm sure there're faster ways, what with magic and all that. And..."

Remus trailed off; Dumbledore was looking at him very intensely, and Remus supposed he had every right to.

"That did not help my case," Remus mumbled. "I'm not suicidal. I promised I'd tell you the truth, and there it is."

"You sound as if you've given the matter a lot of thought."

"No more than anyone else."

Dumbledore leaned forward, and his eyes were more serious than Remus had ever seen them. "Remus. The average, perfectly healthy person, unless prompted, gives it next to no thought at all. In fact, the prospect might even be terrifying. Are you really giving it much thought? That is not normal."

"No, I… I mean…" Remus was stammering now—he knew it was a tad suspicious, but he couldn't seem to get any proper words out. "I just… I haven't thought about it much, not before now… I was only saying that poisoning myself and then going to the Hospital Wing immediately after is a really stupid way of doing things, and…"

"But you did not go to the Hospital Wing immediately after. Your friends forced you both times, did they not?"

"Yes, but… for a different reason! I thought I was fine, I didn't notice, and I thought I'd cleared it up with Madam Pomfrey, already convinced her that I was… that I was fine… Professor. Please. I haven't thought about suicide, really I haven't. I'd never. That would be selfish, after everything."

Dumbledore frowned. "Too selfish? Remus, is that your only reason for staying alive? It would be too selfish to do anything besides that?"

"No… yes… no! I'm sorry, Professor, but are you trying to convince me to off myself? Because it sounds an awful lot like you are! You're twisting my words!"

"That was absolutely not my intention," said Dumbledore, holding up both hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, Remus, and I believe you. I only want to gauge your relative mental health. There was an incident the other day, so it felt necessary to push a bit."

Remus was almost afraid to ask. "An incident?"

"Have you read the Daily Prophet this morning?"

"No. I was poisoned."

"Ah, of course. Well, the Ministry just passed a law late last night offering hefty financial support to families with deceased werewolves, so I merely thought that it was convenient timing, especially since you wouldn't let me use any sort of Legilimency."

Remus felt ill. "I would never," he repeated.

"I understand. I only had to check, and I thank you for indulging me."

"Are they trying to… get werewolves to off themselves? Is that what's intended?"

"That may be part of it, yes." Dumbledore looked off into the distance thoughtfully. "But I think more of it is intended to encourage parents of younger werewolves to dispose of them before they become a threat. Werewolf attacks have been on a steady rise, as I'm sure you know, and the Ministry simply wants to… help things along, in terms of stopping the potential army of werewolves that Voldemort could gather."

"Oh," said Remus quietly. "But surely it won't do much? I don't think a financial reward would have enticed my parents to… to change their minds and…"

"No, no. Of course not. But not every parent is as good as your own are, Remus, and it is very possible that this will push some over the edge—even if it weren't for the money, this law makes it seem like humanely killing young werewolves is a more acceptable, more common option—and the dangerous thing about it is that the law was passed under the guise of helping. For all intents and purposes, it seems like a very supportive law, because it's giving support to families in need…"

"…but it's being very careful to support the families, not the werewolves."

"Yes, and it also paves the way for future pseudo-helpful laws that hurt one group by assisting another. I fear for the future of the Ministry, and I fear for the future of the wizarding world… but I am thankful, at least, that this particular law won't affect you."

"No, sir. It won't."

"Good. Now, I'd like to remind you of a few things as we proceed our search for the mysterious poisoner."

Remus sat up straighter, sensing that the difficult, uncomfortable part of the conversation was over. "I'm listening."

"First, I'd like to remind you that the person who poisoned you is not necessarily someone whom you would think as evil. It is more than possible that the Imperius Curse is at play, which would mean that the true culprit may not have any sort of literal interaction with you before an incident. If you can think of anyone who sneaks out after curfew… who routinely has interaction with people outside of Hogwarts, for reasons good or bad… who hasn't been acting quite right, as if they're in a trance… or particularly emotional or confused, as if they're frustrated about having blank spaces in their mind? Tracing that person may help us find the culprit. Can you think of anyone like that?"

Remus racked his brain, but he could not think of a single person. "No, sir," he admitted.

"Hm. Can you think of anyone who dislikes you, whether they have interacted with you recently or not?"

"Er… most of the people at the Ministry. Most of society. Most everybody, actually."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Although that's certainly a possibility, I am looking for someone a bit more specific—a bit more personal. Remember that the Ministry is bound by secrecy, and that victims of the Imperius Curse remember their experiences after the curse is lifted; therefore, a hateful D.R.C.M.C. or W.C.U. member could not poison you through another person without heavily implying your secret. Anyone who poisons you on the sole basis of your being a werewolf would have to know about it beforehand, and I assure you that most of society does not know. No, Remus: I'm looking for someone who hates you for personal reasons."

"Erm, Snape?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Is that all?"

"I… I think so. I mean, Professor Sidus has never quite been comfortable around me, nor Professor Sprout, but I don't think they would…"

"No, I don't think they would, either."

"I'm sure a lot of students are annoyed by… well, me and my friends… in general, though. Perhaps someone dislikes James and Sirius and just thinks I'm the easy target."

Dumbledore stroked his beard for a moment, considering; finally, he said, "Yes, Remus. That is a good idea. Very logical. How about this: we shall both keep a lookout, and you will come to me with whatever information you may have—even if you don't think it is important. All right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wonderful. Have a good rest of your day, Remus."

Remus smiled and nodded, but as soon as Dumbledore left the Wing, he said (very quietly, bitterly, and to himself), "Unlikely, since Madam Pomfrey won't let me leave the Hospital Wing."

Remus' friends came to visit him later that day, and they were livid.

"It was Louis Leek," said James with a snarl. "I'm sure of it."

"But Madam Pomfrey said that the poison wasn't in the drink this time, Prongs. She said I touched something…."

"So the poison was on the cup. Did he touch it when he gave it to you?"

"Erm, no, it was already on the table when I came in, but…"

"There you have it! It was on the cup!"

"No, it was Snape," growled Sirius. "He's always skulking around, and he's already trying to sabotage us in other ways. I'm sure he went behind your back at some point… switched out an innocent item with a malicious one…."

"Oh, and you think I wouldn't have noticed that?"

"You couldn't even hear last month."

"I still had a sense of sight and smell. I think I would've known."

"You never know. It was crowded in the Great Hall."

"It wasn't Snape, Sirius."

"Have we ruled out Ragfarn, then?" asked Peter.

"Haven't seen him since Registry Day, and he also wrote me a note, remember? I don't think it was him."

Sirius slammed his hand on Remus' bedpost, and Remus flinched. "Come on, Lupin, who do you think it was, then? You've got to have some idea! We can't just… can't just let someone poison you and get away with it! This is ridiculous! First you get bitten by a werewolf, and now you're getting poisoned, and… and…"

Suddenly, Sirius trailed off. He dragged his hand off of the bedpost with a firm thwip, and then he brought his hand up to his chest… curled his fingers into a fist… and turned toward the other wall.

There was silence.

"Erm, Padfoot?" said James after a while. "Everything okay?"

Remus inhaled briefly, thinking that perhaps Sirius was crying. Sirius never cried, but… well, war brought out the worst in people, didn't it? Sirius was afraid, and Remus understood completely. But the scent of tears was not in the air, so Remus wondered what on earth Sirius was doing.

Sirius didn't respond for a few moments, and James took a step forward.

Then another.

Then, hesitantly, James put his hand out and patted Sirius' shoulder…

In a flash, James was all the way on the other side of the room, rubbing his head. "Ouch," he said. "Did you just push me? Yikes, mate. That was harsh."

Sirius glared at James, eyes wild. "You know what?!" he said. "I'm sick of you, Potter! I'm sick of ALL of you! I'm sick of this school, and I'm sick of this war, and I'm SICK of BEING AFRAID!"

"I understand," said James soothingly as he stood up and brushed off his robes, and Remus didn't have the heart to tell him that "I understand" was probably the worst possible thing that one could say to someone in the sort of distress that Sirius was in now.

"UNDERSTAND?" cried Sirius. "YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND! NOT ONE BIT! YOU'RE JAMES POTTER!"

"I'm still affected by the war, mate. All of us are."

Shut up, thought Remus desperately. Let him have his problems. Don't try to say yours are just as bad. They're not, James. Shut up.

The thing about Sirius was that he often wanted to be understood. Unlike Remus, Sirius often wanted to be told that he wasn't alone, that someone else was going through something similar, and that everything was going to be all right... but right now, Remus could tell that Sirius was in the sort of mood where he did not want to hear from James Potter, whose family was loving, whose life was perfect, who never feared anything but cockroaches. Sirius was in different moods at different times, and there was a subtlety there that was often difficult to grasp for poor James, who had likely never been in a Mood like this himself—the type of Mood where one is exasperated and infuriated by things that normally should have been helpful—unfortunately, Remus knew Moods like this all too well.

Sirius was still shouting. "Every single time I go home, James, I remember that my parents—my stupid, awful parents—support stuff like this. My father would hear of Remus being poisoned and REJOICE. Do you understand how horrible it is to be torn between two worlds? To recognize that, any day now, your parents could turn Dark and start torturing Muggles? Start torturing your friends? I could come home one evening in the far future, and there could be a Death Eater over for tea or… or a dead Muggle in the kitchen, or…! I'M TERRIFIED OF MY OWN FAMILY! You could NEVER understand that!"

James laughed, but it was the kind of nervous laugh that implied that he thought Sirius was on the precipice of insanity. "Mate."

"NO! Every time something like this happens, I remember that I'M NO DIFFERENT, AREN'T I? Because it's Purebloods doing these things! AND THINGS WILL ONLY GET WORSE! AND GUESS WHO'S GOING TO BE THE ONE WHO'S FORCED TO INTERACT WITH SUPPORTERS EVERY SINGLE DAY THIS SUMMER? I'll give you a hint! IT'S SURE AS HELL NOT YOU, JAMES!"

Sirius cast one final, furious glare toward James, and then he stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Silence.

"That went well," said James nervously.

AN: If I had a nickel for every time Remus had been poisoned by an unknown substance, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.