Dear Remus,

Hi. It's Professor Leek, as I'm sure you could tell. Well, I suppose you couldn't tell—usually, people sign their names at the end of letters. Why do they do that? Since you already know whom a letter is addressed to based on whether you receive it or not, it would make more sense to put the sender at the beginning and the receiver at the end. That would make so much more sense. Or, better yet, put them both at the beginning… but I'm rambling. I'm sorry.

Professor Dumbledore has alerted me about your situation, and I just want to say that I understand completely. Needing a break is perfectly fine. I hope you had a good time with the Easter egg hunt yesterday, though I heard there was a bit of an outrage at the end. Oh, well. Sometimes Dilley doesn't have much regard for people's feelings. Don't tell him I said that.

Anyway, Albus told me all about what happened last summer. I'd heard bits and pieces, of course, but not the full story. I'm terribly, terribly sorry. I had no idea that the fire occurred in such close proximity to your home, I had no idea that it killed nearly your whole town, and I also didn't know the extent of how close you were with Questus. That's awful. I'm sorry.

So, for the record, I think it's an excellent idea that you're taking a break from your Arithmancy project. I think you need to rest. You're a hard worker, and you've been pushing yourself a little too far. Take some time to adjust. Do some things that aren't stressful and mentally taxing. Talk to your friends. I lost my grandfather five years ago—it's not the same thing, but I remember how awful it felt. Take your time.

I do, however, have a request. Well, it's not a request, because I don't desire you to do anything. I mean, obviously, it's not that I desire you to do nothing, but it's just that I'll be fine with whatever you choose. So it's not a request. It's more of an offer, really. Yes, offer. That's the right word.

I was recently alerted to the fact that one of my friends—well, we weren't that close, which is why I just heard. We were acquaintances, really—anyway. One of the people who once worked closely with me on a simulation project was bitten by a werewolf recently. Well, not recently. About five years ago. He still works in Arithmancy—obviously, not with the Ministry, because that would be an issue, but he's doing as much independent work as he can. I recently contacted him for old times' sake, and we're going to meet in Hogsmeade this coming Saturday. I was wondering if you'd like to come and chat.

He's a very pleasant person, and I'm sure he'd love to know about your project. I don't expect anything from you, though, and it would just be pleasant chatting. Nothing too stressful. I've already cleared it with Dumbledore.

I won't blame you at all if you don't want to go, but the offer is open. Let me know!

Sincerely, Professor Leek.

Remus laughed. Leek was even more awkward through writing than he was through speaking, but it was all right. Remus knew what it was like to be awkward.

He read the letter again, trying to make a decision. Did he want to go?

Sort of.

Yes, he liked the idea of talking to another werewolf—the only one he'd ever really spoken to had been Susi from the Werewolf Registry. Talking to a werewolf who was good at arithmancy? Now, that was a dream come true, and Remus might even get some good advice pertaining to his project (once he started it up again, that was).

But it was possible that it was going to be incredibly awkward, entirely unpleasant, and perhaps extremely embarrassing.

"You know what?" said Remus aloud, because he was the only one in the dormitory at the time. "I'll regret it if I don't do it." And then, before he could change his mind, he wrote,

Dear Professor Leek,

Thank you so much for offering. I would love to. Where should we meet?

Remus.

Then he sent the letter by owl (he wasn't feeling brave enough to do it in person) and snuck into the Divination classroom to talk it over with Rowena.

"Remus!" Rowena said, already pulling up two chairs at their favorite table in the painted library. "How have you been?"

"Well," said Remus, "I had a mental breakdown at the top of the Astronomy Tower, Dumbledore made me stop doing my Arithmancy project until next year, there was an Easter egg hunt at Hogwarts and every single person lost, and I got sunburned all over my face." Remus rubbed his nose. "It's pretty bad. I almost went to Madam Pomfrey to get a potion for it, but I know she'll keep me in for ages and give me a full check-up."

Rowena nodded slowly. "I didn't understand a word you just said," she admitted. "Except for the ones about Madam Pomfrey—you've mentioned her before. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Remus explained all about the egg hunt to Rowena, who found the concept of Easter eggs fascinating. "Why do you paint eggs to commemorate the death of a spiritual leader? And why do you hide them?"

"Well, not everybody celebrates the spiritual leader part. But… it's sort of like a game of telephone. People come up with traditions, and then they eventually stray from their original intended purpose and just become… tradition, for no real reason other than it's fun."

"Ah. Yes, I know of traditions."

"I don't think I've told you about Miles yet. Have I told you about Miles?"

"Not yet. Do tell."

"Well, Miles is a boy I tutored at the beginning of the year. His mother was my Arithmancy teacher… she didn't like werewolves much, and James hated her."

"Yes, you've told me about her. Was she the one who was attacked by Death Eaters in Hogsmeade and died rather brutally?"

"That's her. Miles went home, as anyone would. But he just came back, and Dumbledore put him in my dormitory so that he could adjust before classes start up again. So now it's me, Peter, and Miles in the dormitory. We're actually a pretty good group, if I do say so myself. But…"

"Yes?"

"I feel awful for him. I can't imagine what I would do if my mother died. And having him around… makes me feel sorry for myself, honestly. It's not the same thing, because I didn't lose a parent… but I miss Professor Questus. Honestly. So much. Watching Miles reminds me of that."

"I see."

"But it's also sort of helpful, because helping other people tends to make me focus less on my own problems."

Rowena smiled. "Yes, it does. That's part of the reason I'm glad you come to talk to me—I feel rather cooped up in here, and talking to you is a nice escape from that."

"Yeah. Dumbledore told me that constantly escaping from one's problems through other distractions wasn't always a good thing, but I think it's a very good thing sometimes."

"It certainly is. So what else has been happening?"

Remus explained the upcoming trip to see the werewolf arithmancer, the Easter egg hunt in a little more detail, what sunburns were, his late-night mirror talks with James and Sirius, and his fear about the upcoming full moon. Rowena listened politely all the way through, and Remus felt a lot better when it was over. He felt recharged, reenergized, and ready to face anything… even the mysterious werewolf arithmancer.

He and Professor Leek met up by the Arithmancy classroom and walked to Hogsmeade together. "How are you feeling?" Leek asked him.

"I'm all right, sir," said Remus. "I'm a little apprehensive."

"Oh, don't worry. I talked to him about it already, and he's excited to meet you. He's a good person, and a fantastic arithmancer. Very clever. You'll like him."

"Hm," said Remus. They were getting nearer to Hogsmeade, and Remus could see the Whomping Willow in the distance. Its branches waved almost peacefully, and the leaves rustled like they hadn't a care in the world. It was hard to believe that, once a month, that tree guarded a bloodthirsty werewolf from the outside world.

"Have you ever met another werewolf?" asked Leek, who had perhaps seen Remus growing more morose and decided to change the subject.

"Erm, yes, sir. I'm Registered, of course—I wouldn't have been able to go to Hogwarts if I hadn't been. Registration is voluntary, but I doubt the Ministry wants a werewolf sneaking behind their back at a famous educational institution."

Leek laughed. "Right. So, er. You met one there?"

"Yeah, I always see a few. I only ever talk to one, though. Her name is Susi. I actually met her the…" Remus trailed off. "Sorry. I don't want to go into detail about this right now. But I met her on the night I was bitten, and we were in St. Mungo's together."

"Oh," said Leek. "Yes. Erm. That seems like a bad memory."

"A bit." The next part slipped out before Remus could even stop it. "Bit, literally," he said, and he cringed as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Leek laughed, albeit awkwardly. "Yes, of course."

They walked for a bit longer before reaching the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade. "Where are we meeting?" Remus asked.

"I was thinking the Three Broomsticks. Basic, I know, but Berwin feels comfortable there. There's enough of a crowd that he'll blend in."

Remus nodded silently. He knew he'd be like that someday—terrified to leave the house, only going out when necessary, poor and ill, no Hogwarts medical care… he dreaded the day. "His name is Berwin?" he asked.

"Yes, Berwin Douglas." They stopped in front of the Three Broomsticks, and Leek turned to face Remus. "Look," he said, "I know what it feels like to be nervous meeting new people. In case you haven't noticed, I'm—erm—extremely awkward."

Remus smiled. "So am I."

"Then we're in this together. Trust me, Berwin's as friendly as friendly can be."

"I'm just…" Remus sighed. "I'm a little worried that he'll resent me. I have to be careful not to let the other werewolves at the Registry overhear that I'm attending Hogwarts. They get… envious, I guess, because so many of them didn't get that opportunity. I don't want that."

"He won't be resentful. He got to go to Hogwarts as a child. He wasn't a werewolf until a handful of years ago. Trust me, it'll be okay."

"Okay," said Remus. He took another deep breath—in through his nose, out through his mouth. "May we go in before I lose my nerve?" he asked.

Leek laughed. "Of course," he said, and then he opened the door.

Remus didn't see anyone of interest at first. He tried to scan the area, looking for someone who looked haggard and tired, but he didn't see anyone… it wasn't until Leek led him to a table tucked away in the corner that Remus saw Berwin Douglas.

He was wrapped in a heavy brown cloak. Questus' favorite cloaks had all been dark brown, and this one looked like it had once been that color—but now it was faded to a color that was nearly tan. There were a couple of patches in it, and it was so large and baggy that it nearly dwarfed the face above it.

Berwin Douglas was thin. That was just about the first thing that Remus noticed, and he was sure that it was the first thing that Berwin was noticing about Remus. His face was nearly skeletal, even thinner than Remus' own, and his cheekbones were prominent. His eyes were light grey, and his hair was a strange shade of reddish blonde, also streaked with grey. His hand was resting on the table, and Remus caught a glance of a fingernail that was still growing back and a long scar snaking up the back of his hand.

Remus felt a strange sense of solidarity.

"Hi," said Leek, and Berwin nodded in response. It was a bit intimidating that he wasn't talking, Remus thought… but, then again, Remus wasn't talking either.

Leek took a seat, and Remus followed. The chair scraped against the floor, squeaking loudly, and both Remus and Berwin flinched. Remus felt that solidarity again, though he wasn't exactly sure what to do with it.

"This is Remus," said Leek. "He's one of my best students. I told you all about his project, remember? I'm very hopeful that it'll all work out. Hm, Remus?"

Remus nodded, terrified.

"Sounded interesting," said Berwin, and Remus heard for the first time how hoarse his voice was. His eyelids were drooping, too—he didn't look good at all. "You're fifteen?"

"Fourteen, sir," said Remus quietly.

"I see." Suddenly, Berwin smiled. "You needn't call me sir."

Remus was reminded of Professor Questus, and he shuddered. "Right. Okay. Sorry, Mr. Douglas."

Berwin chuckled a bit. "Berwin. Please. You look somewhat nervous—I promise I'm not going to bite you."

Remus snorted at that. "Been there, done that," he said.

Suddenly, the awkward tension was broken, and both Remus and Berwin were laughing. "I'm sorry," said Remus. "I'm not sure why I was so nervous."

"I was nervous, too!" admitted Berwin. "I don't think I've ever met another werewolf before, you know?" Then he shrugged non-committedly. "I mean… I met one once," he said, "but he didn't exactly stop to chat."

Remus laughed. "Right, yeah. They don't always."

"How long have you been one, then?"

"Er… nine years."

"Nine years?" Berwin's mouth dropped open. "You were five?"

"Yeah, nearly."

"Nearly? Blimey. That's terrible. I'm coming on six years myself, and I thought I was bad."

"That is bad. Sometimes I'm glad I was bitten earlier. I had more time to adjust. Less time to get my hopes up. You sort of… had it all and then lost it all, didn't you? I never had any delusions of a good future."

"Well, delusions are pleasant sometimes," said Berwin with a wave of his hand. "You're going to Hogwarts, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

He smiled wistfully. "I'd give anything to be back there. How are you enjoying it?"

"I love it."

"And… do all the staff know about the lycanthropy?"

"Yeah, all the staff know, but I'm keeping it a secret from most of my classmates."

"Most of them?"

"My dormmates figured it out in September last year, and they'd been having suspicions for ages. But they're okay with it."

"Okay with it?" Berwin's eyes seemed to be growing wider by the second. "You're joking. How many of them are there?"

"Three."

"Three? You found three people who didn't mind werewolves? Three?!"

"I know! I was pretty astounded as well."

Berwin shook his head, looking dazed. "Merlin's beard," he said. "That's amazing. Gives me hope, if I'm being honest. Three. And then there's Louis here, too. Do you know, he reached out to me himself after hearing of what had happened to me all those years ago? Wrote me a letter, just like that, saying that he wished me all the best and hoped I was doing well. Asked to meet me. Do you know how few people would want to do that to a werewolf? Well, of course you do." Berwin chuckled darkly. "Thought it was a trick at first."

"Well, er, it's mostly because of Remus that I'm all right with werewolves," said Leek. "He's managed to convince most of the staff that they're all right. Not dangerous. All that. So, Berwin… how have you been?"

Berwin laughed again, loud and deep, with a hint of wheezing at the edge. "Not great," he said. "I mean, what did you expect? Don't have a job. I do freelance arithmancy for some passive income, but it's not very lucrative. Tried to pick up a few simple jobs—shops, restaurants, and the like—but I can't hold a regular job for very long. You know how that would be, right, Remus?"

Remus nodded slowly.

"How difficult is it for you to keep up with your schoolwork? I can't imagine."

"It's not too bad. I have really good medical care at Hogwarts, so I just get caught up in the Hospital Wing."

"Ah," sighed Berwin, scratching the base of his thumb absentmindedly. "That must be nice."

"Yeah. Madam Pomfrey knows what she's doing."

"The matron?"

"Mm-hm."

"And she's not… ah…"

"Prejudiced? No. She's lovely."

"That's good."

Just then, Rosmerta walked by their table and asked for their orders—Leek ordered a Gillywater, Berwin ordered a Firewhiskey, and Remus ordered a Butterbeer (as per usual). "She didn't overhear us, did she?" whispered Berwin.

"No," said Leek. "Is there anything I can do to help you out, Berwin? You don't seem well."

"No, there's not. Wish there was. Only problem right now is that I can't hold down a job for very long, and freelance arithmancy doesn't bring in much income, as one would expect."

"Have you tried getting a job in the Muggle world?" Leek asked, frowning.

"Yes, of course. But I have… er, too many sick days, and sometimes they stretch out for ages. Haven't found an employer that doesn't mind that. Not yet. Maybe soon."

There was a bit of a somber silence. Rosmerta brought them their drinks, humming all the while, and they each took a sip in unison.

"So tell me about your project, Remus," said Berwin.

Remus immediately jumped into a full explanation, thankful for a topic that didn't pertain to his bleak future and Berwin's bleak present. "You know how the transformations are often quite unpredictable?" asked Remus. "I mean, they always happen around eight pm on the full moon. Right? I mean, they're around eight for you, too?"

Berwin frowned. "I think so," he said. "I've never really kept track."

"Well, they're around eight for me, but I never know exactly when. I don't know what makes them worse, either, because some are so much worse than others… for you, too, right?"

"Absolutely," said Berwin. "I thought for a while that it was merely stress, but…"

"It's not foolproof."

"Yes, exactly."

"So I'm trying to predict all those things. I might be able to make it better if it's a controllable factor, and if it's not, then…"

"…at least you know what's coming."

"Precisely."

"That's excellent." Berwin's eyes had lit up, and he looked so much younger than he'd looked when Remus had first saw him. "That's an excellent, excellent idea. What factors are you looking at?"

So Remus and Berwin spent the next hour or so discussing the logistics, talking about the next steps, talking about the potential benefits, and discussing how to publish the results when the project was finally finished (though both Berwin and Leek confirmed that the project would likely take a couple of years to complete, if not more). Every so often, the conversation would shift to more personal topics, some of which Remus needed a lot of courage to approach.

"It was on my thirty-ninth birthday," said Berwin, sipping his drink thoughtfully. "I had gone to celebrate at a friend's house, and I was walking home in the dark. It was a gorgeous night, I remember. Summer. Nice breeze. No clouds. Beautiful stars, and just the right temperature. And then, out of nowhere, I heard something growling in the trees—didn't take long before it was over. Thankfully, my friend heard the commotion and ran out to heal me."

"Are you still friends?" Remus asked.

"Well, we're not enemies. Drifted away. He doesn't hate me, but I get the feeling he doesn't want to spend a lot of time around me."

"I see."

"So what happened to you?"

Miraculously, Remus found it within himself to respond. "Well, I… I was nearly five, and… well, you know. Werewolves in the area. I was sleeping, the roof sloped low, and the werewolf just… came through my window. Broke the glass. My parents were just downstairs, and my dad managed to… scare it away. The werewolf, I mean."

Okay, fine, so Remus hadn't given the full answer. He hadn't mentioned that it was a targeted attack, and he hadn't mentioned that it was Fenrir Greyback. But he'd said a little, and that was what counted. He'd said the important parts.

They returned to discussing the project, and Remus found himself having a lot of fun. He'd missed this: intelligent, involved conversation with someone who knew that he was a werewolf and didn't mind talking about it. It reminded Remus a little of Professor Questus.

After a while, Remus and Berwin said goodbye (after exchanging addresses so that Remus could continue to owl Berwin if he had more questions about his project). Remus walked back to the castle, accompanied by Professor Leek, with a newfound spring in his step.

"That wasn't so bad," said Leek happily.

Remus grinned. "Nope, not at all."

AN: Happy Thanksgiving to all those who are celebrating it right now! And I hope all my other readers have a great day, too—I'm thankful for all of them, except you. Yes, you. You know who you are.

(Just kidding. I just wanted to sound aloof and mysterious; alas, I am neither.)