Remus woke up unable to move.

Whenever he tried, sharp claws would dig into his chest and arms, sending tendrils of pain up and down his body. His chest was being crushed by something heavy, making it hard to move. His room smelled like wet dog and blood, and his left side hurt far beyond anything that Remus ever could have imagined. Tears were streaming down his face, dripping onto his cheeks and into his hair, and his eyes stung. Broken glass was scattered all over his bed, shining innocently in the moonlight. He was dizzy. He was quivering. He was dying.

Never mind. He was fine, and he was still at Hogwarts, in his bed.

He drew in a shuddery breath and sat up. From the sounds of it, Peter and Miles were still sleeping. After tomorrow, he only had one more night with the two of them—then Miles would be sleeping with his regular dormmates, and James and Sirius would be back to make the Marauders complete again.

But for right now, there was no James to calm Remus down after the nightmare. That was all right. Remus could do it himself.

He gripped his knees to his chest and breathed as best he could, but he eventually found that he was still having some trouble getting air in. Everything hurt, even his skin, which really didn't make sense for a nightmare, unless he'd been scratching himself in his sleep….

Wait.

Remus switched the lights on, much to the dismay of Peter (Miles didn't complain; the boy was an even heavier sleeper than Peter was). "Peter," said Remus slowly, watching the green streaks materialize on his arms, "I think I need to go to the Hospital Wing."

"Remus John Lupin," snapped Madam Pomfrey, pushing him into a bed. Peter looked on, perhaps amazed at the usage of Remus' middle name.

"It wasn't my fault!" said Remus, and his words came out alarmingly slurred, which probably wasn't helping his case.

"Need I remind you how dangerous this is? Every single time this happens, you are inches away from death. This isn't just a quick fix!" She poured the boiled bezoar concoction down Remus' throat—and, contrary to her words, Remus started feeling better immediately. The dark streaks disappeared. His throat cleared. He felt less dizzy. He flexed his fingers, and they didn't hurt one bit.

"Feels like a quick fix to me," said Remus. "Look, it's no big deal. If it happens again, then I'll just come back in here. May I leave?"

"What?!"

"I asked if I could leave. I'll be here May sixth, anyhow. That's only a couple of days away."

"It's sixteen days away!"

"Oh, don't tell me you count down the days. It's not that big of a deal."

Madam Pomfrey shooed Peter out of the room, who left gladly—and, as soon as he was gone, she practically slammed a glass of water on Remus' bedside table. "Drink," she commanded, and Remus did.

"Why can't you seem to understand that this is a big deal, Remus?" she snapped, watching him drink. "It is not just a… head cold, or some type of stubbed toe! Someone is actively trying to kill you, and they're nearly succeeding every time!"

"Yeah, well," said Remus shortly, but Madam Pomfrey shook her head and shoved the drink back into his face, cutting him off.

"Look, I get it. You're not doing this on purpose. And I'm not angry with you…."

"Could have fooled me."

"I'm not. I'm not angry with you, Remus. I know you don't know how to prevent this, I know you're not at fault—we've already covered those possibilities—and I'm glad you came directly to the Hospital Wing this time. You did everything correctly. No, I'm angry at your circumstances… I'm angry at whomever is doing this to you… and I'm angry that you've been through enough that stress and pain this severe don't bother you."

"You're right, they don't," said Remus, putting down his finished glass of water. "Not a big deal. So… may I leave? It's not as if you can do anything to prevent it, either."

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "You're being a brat."

"I know, and I'm sorry. But I really am sick of the Hospital Wing, and I had a lot of plans for today. I was going to talk to James and Sirius, I was going to enjoy the weather, I was going to make a map of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom for James, I was going to clean the dormitory before they got back, and I was going to finish up my Runes homework that I left off…."

"Remus Lupin, leaving off homework?" gasped Madam Pomfrey, but she was finally smiling.

"I was busy with Peter and Miles, that's all. My point is, I had a lot to do, and I'd like to get started on that. I'll come back if I feel poorly, I promise."

Madam Pomfrey stared at him for a moment, and dreaded pity was clouding her eyes. "No," she said.

"But this has happened twice before! There weren't any adverse effects the last two times, so I don't see why there would be any this time!"

"No, you can't go off on your own. I'm taking you to St. Mungo's."

"What?!" cried Remus, utterly horrified. "No, Madam Pomfrey, you can't!"

"I have to. They have a poison ward, and they have ways of finding out exactly what is poisoning you. They might even be able to pinpoint the exact time you ingested the poison, which would help immensely. Remus, we need to figure out what's causing this."

"No! Could I just carry a bezoar in my pocket? I'll come here afterwards every time, I promise."

"There shouldn't be another time! We don't know the long-term effects of this poison. We can't just stand by while an unknown person poisons you half to death. Besides, we need to make sure that this unknown poisoner doesn't harm anyone else! Don't you want that?"

Remus did, but he very much did not want to go to St. Mungo's. Gryffindor was the home of the noble, but Remus found that he was not quite noble enough to endure St. Mungo's on the off-chance that he would someday protect another student from a curable poison. "Okay, how about this," said Remus, willing to make a deal. "If you don't make me go to St. Mungo's, I will stay here for three days. Starting now."

"No."

"I will stay here for one week. Starting now."

"No."

"I will stay here until the next full moon, and I'll only leave afterwards when you deem me well enough."

"No."

"I will… stay here forever. I'll never leave. I'll just sit in this bed, taking every potion you give me and trying very hard not to overexert myself. Full moons might be a bit difficult, but I'll see what I can do."

"No! Remus Lupin, you are going to St. Mungo's whether you like it or not—"

"I don't."

"—because this is an emergency!"

"But I'm fine!"

Madam Pomfrey didn't drop a cap in the jar for Remus' usage of the forbidden word; instead, she crossed her arms tightly and said, "Why won't you go?" in a totally exasperated tone of voice. "We probably won't even have to stay the night, Remus. It'll be in and out. Maybe two hours, and then you can come back here. Easy."

"They don't like werewolves," Remus said, and Madam Pomfrey pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Yes, I understand. But how bad can it be?"

Remus laughed humorlessly. "Let's just say that they'll probably make it worse somehow."

"But we have to try. I can't just stand here, doing nothing, and feel satisfied. I can't let you die, Remus. I've worked far too hard to keep you alive."

Remus sighed. He wasn't willing to endure St. Mungo's on a small chance of saving another student from general unpleasantness… but he would do it for Madam Pomfrey. She'd cared for him for years now, and she'd never asked for anything in return. Well, hardly anything. She always asked Remus to stay still, to drink water, and to take naps… but that hardly counted. No, Remus would do this for Madam Pomfrey, if only to prove her wrong and never have to go to St. Mungo's again.

"Fine," he said. "When do we leave?"

Remus was still wearing his pajamas, so Madam Pomfrey let him go back to his dormitory to comb his hair, brush his teeth, and change into plain black robes. "Now, don't run away on me," she ordered.

Remus nearly did anyway. He was back in his dormitory, Peter and Miles were sleeping deeply (it was, after all, still two in the morning), and it would be so easy to hide under James' Invisibility Cloak. He could go to the Kitchens and bake a cake. He could walk around the lake for a bit. He could sneak around the castle and talk to the portraits. He could read a book in a corner of the library. There were so many options, and they all sounded better than going to St. Mungo's for the next couple of hours.

But no. Remus was responsible and trustworthy (most of the time), so he slipped on robes, combed his hair, brushed his teeth, and then went straight back to Madam Pomfrey—and he only lingered a little bit in the corridors.

"Ready to go?" asked Madam Pomfrey. "I've already alerted Professor Dumbledore, and he thinks it's a good idea, too."

"Oh, joy," muttered Remus. "The whole world's against me."

"Oh, shush. We just don't want you to die, Lupin. That would be quite a bit of paperwork. Ready?"

"Fine," said Remus. He stepped into the fireplace after Madam Pomfrey, throwing the Floo powder into the flames and enunciating the dreaded word—the demon—the oxymoron that began with saint but was nothing more than a devil—Remus' second-worst nightmare (third-worst? Fourth-worst? Fifth-worse? Oh, well it was in the top ten): St. Mungo's.

A moment later, they were standing in front of the front desk at St. Mungo's, waiting in line. People were bustling all around them, and Remus was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic. He remembered this place all too well. He remembered being carried in by his father that very first time, blood dripping everywhere, terrified. He remembered squinting his eyes, because the light was bright and had hurt seemingly all over his body. He remembered the slight fuzz of the ceiling, and he remembered being afraid that his eyesight would permanently disappear and he would need glasses like his father. He remembered the smells, burning bright and clean under his nose—his nose was, unfortunately, just starting to become more sensitive as the curse spread. He remembered it all, and he didn't like any of it.

"Why did we Floo directly into the room?" Remus asked. "I didn't know that was possible."

Madam Pomfrey pointed upwards. "There's a fireplace there, see? The fireplace in the Wing is directly connected to Hogwarts—that way, I can bring ill students here without going through the main entrance every time. They know that, if I bring students here instead of healing them at Hogwarts, then it's probably an emergency."

"I see," said Remus, who didn't see it fit to argue again that this was not an emergency.

"I can take the next in line," called the Welcome Witch at the desk, and Madam Pomfrey put her hand on Remus' right shoulder and guided him to the desk. "Oh, Poppy! It's so good to see you," the Welcome Witch said. "What's the problem with this one here?" She looked at Remus and granted him a warm smile. Remus knew that it was probably one of the last smiles that he would receive at St. Mungo's, so he smiled back and relished the feeling.

"Hi, Heather," said Madam Pomfrey. "We'd like to go to the third floor for a poison identification."

"Of course. You already know where it is—go on. Best of luck!"

"Thank you, Heather!" Madam Pomfrey began shepherding Remus to the lifts, leading him past and away from the ramp that led to the Dai Llewellyn Ward for Serious Bites as quickly as humanly possible. Remus was thankful for that in spite of himself. He didn't have fond memories of that place.

The scent of blood was sharp in the air, but it slowly decreased as they got closer to the third floor. Instead, new and equally disturbing scents were invading Remus' nostrils: there were potions everywhere that Remus could not identify, but some of them were sharp with things that set off warning bells in Remus' head, and some of them contained enough wolfsbane to make Remus' nose sting uncomfortably.

"All right?" asked Madam Pomfrey when Remus began to cough.

"Yeah, fine. I just… whew. Lots of potions. Overwhelming."

"Ah, I see. Yes, it's rather unpleasant for me, too—I can't imagine how it is for you."

They stepped out of the lift, and Madam Pomfrey led Remus to a door. Behind it was a male Healer clad in lime green robes. He had dark brown hair, some stubble, and kind eyes. "Ah, Poppy. Something wrong with this boy here?" He leaned down, even though Remus wasn't all that much shorter than he was, and smiled. "Nice to meet you. Name?"

Remus didn't respond. His name was fairly uncommon, and he didn't know how many rumors of Remus the Werewolf had spread around St. Mungo's. He could play it off as being shy, couldn't he? Perhaps they wouldn't even need his name to heal him.

Alas, Madam Pomfrey didn't seem supportive of Remus' refusal to speak. "Remus Lupin," she said, nudging Remus' side sharply. "He's been here before. He should have an extensive medical file."

"I see," said the Healer, winking. "I'm Healer Robinson, by the way." He made his way over to a file cabinet, and Remus could have sobbed from the anticipation. "You look around… fourteen? Is that right?" Remus didn't bother responding; he was too afraid. Madam Pomfrey squeezed his arm comfortingly. "I hope you're feeling quite well. It doesn't seem to be too urgent. Lucas, Lullins, Luman, Lunt… ah, here it is. Lupin. Remus, was it?" At Madam Pomfrey's nod, Robinson began to flip through the file. "Hm. Born in March, 1960—I was right; you are fourteen! Parents Lyall and Hope—oh, I remember Lyall. I went to school with him, did you know? He was always rather…."

But Remus never got to learn that particular tidbit about his father, because it was then that Robinson saw the offending sentences on Remus' file. His face went slack, and his eyes became significantly less kind.

"Please don't say it," whispered Remus, looking at the few other people in the room (all sleeping, but one could never be too careful).

There was a moment of silence. Remus watched Robinson's face as he continued to flip through the file.

"Why is there so much?" Remus whispered to Madam Pomfrey, quiet as could be. "I've only been here a handful of times."

"I complete some paperwork every full moon for that file," said Madam Pomfrey, equally quiet. "It's helpful for the Healers to know how you've been injured in the past. I'd encourage you and your parents to continue it over the summers and holidays—you can pick up the forms at St. Mungo's—but I understand if you don't. Your parents didn't express any type of desire to interact with St. Mungo's any more than they already must."

"I understand perfectly," said Remus. He was still watching Robinson flip through the file, and he found himself shaking slightly. Why was he so nervous? It wasn't as if he could do anything to stop this.

Finally, Robinson snapped the file shut. "To my office," he said, and Remus and Madam Pomfrey obeyed immediately.

The door was shut behind them, and Remus could tell from the lack of noise that it was magically Soundproofed. If Robinson wanted to kill him right here, then it would be so easy… but no. He couldn't. Not when Madam Pomfrey was there.

"You're a werewolf," said Robinson. All the kindness was gone form his voice, replaced by something much sharper. Remus nodded, terrified.

"Is that a problem?" said Madam Pomfrey just as sharply.

"Well, yes. Treatments may affect him differently, and we don't have enough research on werewolves to know what will and won't."

"Well, I'll supervise. I've done my research, and I can tell you if there's anything that will have an ill effect on him. I only want you to do a quick check-up. He was poisoned by an unidentified substance, and I need you to find out as much as you can so that it doesn't happen again. This is the third time it's happened, so we ought to do something."

"Well…" Robinson hesitated, and then he sighed. "See, because of the war, we have a new ward for… special patients. If the patient needs a… special type of care, then we put them in the basement downstairs."

"The basement? This is ridiculous! It's not the full moon, so the care he receives shouldn't be any different from the care that you give a normal patient!"

"Yes, but… okay, Poppy, I'll give it to you straight. It's the ward for potentially dangerous patients. Because of the war, we see it fit to… separate them, and that's all there is to it. I'm afraid werewolves fit the criteria, so you'll have to take him there. He'll still be treated, of course, but I can't do it here. I'm not allowed."

"And you don't want to," said Madam Pomfrey, eyes ablaze. "Fine. We'll go there. But if Remus isn't treated promptly and treated well, then I'll be filing a complaint."

"Of course," said Robinson, but he didn't look sincere. "Do you need directions?"

"No, I think I can manage," snapped Madam Pomfrey, and then Robinson left without saying another word.

Remus had felt fine upon arriving at St. Mungo's, but now he was starting to feel a little bit ill. For a hospital, it wasn't doing a very good job at making him feel better.

There were six beds in the basement, and none of them were full. It was clear that the basement of St. Mungo's was hardly frequented, judging by the rust on the walls, the leak, the small bloodstain on one of the beds, and the lack of amenities that most hospital rooms had (such as bedside tables, posters, taps, lavatories).

Madam Pomfrey, predictably, was not pleased. "If this weren't so important, I'd take you back to Hogwarts straightaway," she sniffed. "Terrible. Absolutely atrocious." She magically cleaned a bed with her wand, and then she motioned for Remus to lie down. "Don't worry, Remus, it's clean now. Just lie down. I'll fix up the rest of the room."

"I'm sort of tired," mumbled Remus.

"Yes, yes. Of course you are. Go to sleep. I'll let you know if anything important happens."

Remus pulled the papery sheets up to his nose, closed his eyes, and then he was asleep before he even knew it.