The conversation Harry had with Ron fell into the recesses of his mind as December turned into January. Students had since returned from their families and vacations, and classes were back in session. Just when everyone was settling into the mundane routine of school, Rita Skeeter's article on giants made its debut. The students and families were in an uproar at the new information being shared about their Care of Magical Creatures teacher. No one wanted to be taught by a half-giant.

The article itself was horrendous. Skeeter had left no room for decency as she tore through Hagrid's childhood and home life. Nor did she leave room for doubt when stating that since Hagrid was a giant, he was also a Voldemort supporter. He was surprised that anyone believed her since he and Hagrid were friends. The parent community reacted with fear, as hordes of owls came in demanding that Hagrid be sacked. Dumbledore had refused of course, but it didn't improve Hagrid's morale. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had spent a good portion of the afternoon trying to convince Hagrid to come back to teaching.

"You know, Harry? I'd love for yeh ter win. It'd show 'em all yeh don' have ter be pureblood ter do it. Yeh don' have ter be ashamed of what yeh are or where yeh come from."

Harry's smile faltered as an unsettling feeling grew in his stomach. After the depressing thoughts during the Yule Ball, Harry didn't want to keep thinking about his life in the states. He was embarrassed by his muggle family and the quirky reminders of them in the form of mutated food or controversial flyers. Had Hagrid felt the same way when he was a kid?

He also hadn't spent much time on the egg. Anytime Hermione had asked, Harry had told her he had it figured out. It was just another way he was pushing his problems away, but with the second task coming closer and closer, it was time to face the hard truth. He could swallow his pride for Hagrid.

It was with these thoughts that Harry snuck into the Prefect's bathroom late one chilly evening. It took a while to figure out all the settings, but once a bath was drawn, Harry got to work trying to decipher the egg. He was deep in thought when an unwelcome guest decided to make her presence known.

"Hiya, Harry."

Harry shrieked and threw the egg at the newcomer. It flew straight through Moaning Myrtle and gave a splash as it fell into the opposite side of the bath.

Harry gaped at the splash until he remembered who he was dealing with, and how she reacted the last time someone threw something at her. He was quick to sputter, "Sorry, Myrtle, I didn't realize it was you!"

Myrtle fortunately decided to let it go with a snicker. "I haven't seen you in my bathroom lately," she commented lazily.

Harry blinked. Having a banal conversation while he was naked was not on his to-do list. "Why are you here?!"

Unfazed by Harry's displeasure, Myrtle sighed wistfully. "I'm not tied to one bathroom, you know." She grinned impishly. "I have been known to wander."

Harry ignored her playful tone and swam to where the egg had dropped.

"How was the Yule Ball?" Myrtle continued conversationally.

Harry fished around with his hands, grateful for the surplus of bubbles. "You could've gone and seen for yourself. Nearly Headless Nick was there."

Myrtle gave Harry a mischievous look. "Your sister didn't like it when Peeves called Sir Nick that."

Harry paused in his search and stared up at the ghost. "W-What?" he asked, completely thrown off. How did Jazz come into this?

Myrtle looked off in the distance fondly. "Thought it was rude, and well, it is, isn't it?"

Harry didn't know what to say. "But everyone does it," he sputtered dumbly.

"Doesn't change the fact. And doesn't change Nick's thoughts on the matter. He's mentioned it before, but at this point is too polite to push it." Harry thought back and remembered the knight saying something to Ron their first year.

Harry furrowed his brow. "I guess that makes sense… but… Jazz… when did she tell you this?"

"In Amity Park last year, silly." She gave Harry a teasing smirk. "Don't tell me you forgot that we were forced into slavery?"

He did, but he wasn't going to admit it. The ghosts disappearing seemed like it had happened ages ago. He had meant to ask his siblings about the incident and he did, but he forgot to ask about their encounter with the Hogwarts' ghosts.

Harry was stirred from his thoughts with a comment from Myrtle. "Still, Sir Nick's name is better than Moaning Myrtle."

"I thought you gave yourself that name." He knew he said the wrong thing when a porcelain urinal quaked.

"NO!" Myrtle shouted angrily. "Why would I want to be called that ?! That horrible Olive Hornby called me that name before I died and after everything I went through, no one has ever bothered to change it." Myrtle burst into tears.

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Harry saw past his own embarrassment and saw the ghost for what she was. In that moment, Harry realized just how young Myrtle had been when she died. Eleven years old. Only a first year. She never got to enjoy a trip to Hogsmeade. Never got to choose an elective course. Even in death she continued to be tormented by the names her cruel classmates had given her.

"I never really thought of it," Harry murmured quietly.

"No one ever does," Myrtle muttered back.

Harry felt awkward but it was no longer from his indisposition. "Look, I'll, er, spread the word. Get people to stop calling you that. And, uh, Sir Nick, too."

Myrtle gave Harry a long look. Satisfied with what she saw, she beamed suddenly with mirth. "I'd leave the egg in the water, then open it."

Harry followed her directions and as the evening progressed Myrtle continued to give hints here or there until Harry was finally able to decipher the egg.

"Thanks Myrtle. You've been loads of help. I really owe you one."

Not one to shy away from an offer. "Could you send an invitation to Phantom? Ask him to come and visit my toilet over the summer?"

That threw Harry off. How did she… right, last summer. "Why?" he asked curiously.

Myrtle turned wistful. Physically and literally. "He's just so dreamy."

Her mind was clearly elsewhere. Harry got himself ready to leave. "I can't promise you anything. I doubt he'd listen to me."

A knowing look flashed in Myrtle's eyes. "He'd listen to you."

Knowing a Phan when he saw one, Harry smirked. "Sure thing, Myrtle. Next time I go home, I'll ask him."

Home. Right. Would he even be going home this summer?


Far away along the River Thames was a harbor. Stores and pubs lined the walkway of the cozy town. Their lights reflected off the wet pavement, welcoming weather-worn travelers to take comfort in their warmth. Above, the clouds were heavy in the darkened sky and rain fell from them with persistence. The droplets hit the river, churning its calm waters to opacity. The walkway was empty save for a few unlucky souls who had business out in the gloomy atmosphere. They sped down the path in a hopeless attempt to stay dry.

One person, however, trudged down the street at a slow pace. His clothing was as shabby as it was wet. The man slid a hand through his drenched hair. His presence was a peculiar sight to anyone who knew him since he could have avoided the rain by travelling via Floo powder instead of bearing through the weather like the average townsfolk. He had opted to use the muggle route because, like the clouds above, his thoughts were heavy and not everyone was lucky enough to have a pensieve on hand to sort through their troubles. The man found that a stroll down the puddle-ridden street was often just as good as a bowl of wispy thoughts.

He bumped shoulders with a stranger. A teenager by the looks of it. The kid mumbled a quick apology and ran off before the man could get a word in. He didn't pay the kid a second glance. His mind was still trying to come to terms with the news he had received.

Sacked. Again.

Getting hired as a busser had been bad enough. It was an insult to his education. Unbefitting for a man who had received honorifics during his graduation ceremony. Getting fired was worse. It was bound to happen, but he had hoped it would have lasted at least another cycle.

Admittedly, this was the fourth job in the past year. If he kept going at the rate he was, he'd break his last record. He sighed, the puff of air clouding from the chill. This was not a sustainable way of life.

A couple of children who could pass as Wealsey children with their fiery orange hair came into view, huddled under an eave. His heart broke at their appearance. They were clearly homeless. The man walked toward them. He didn't have much, but he did have a few muggle quid he could offer. He hated the sight of children in need.

He reached into his pocket only to find that it was empty. Searching his other pocket he was relieved to find that he still had his last few galleons. What could hav- the boy. He must have taken his muggle wallet when he bumped into him. He gave the children an apologetic look and reached into his pack.

"I wish I could give you more, but this is all I have." A partially crushed sandwich. It was supposed to be his lunch, but he had never gotten the chance to eat it. The children's eyes grew the size of dinner plates. The oldest, a girl, grabbed the sandwich and thanked him. The pair quickly scampered off before he could change his mind. The man watched them leave with a pained face. These children should not be left out here to fend for themselves. They deserved a home.

The thought of taking them in couldn't cross his mind, especially not tonight.

The money he had earned would have to last a little longer. He would have time to sort through finances after tonight. Money was tight, but this purchase was necessary, despite its steep price.

It was already late. He had to hurry. The town was unique in that it had muggle shops as well as wizard shops if you knew where to look. It would be much easier if Diagon Alley offered such items, but not even Knockturn Alley would provide such a remedy. He moved on without looking back.

"Remus!" A voice from behind called. Lupin turned around.

"Duko," he greeted. Duko limped up to him and subtly lit a cigarette with his wand.

Remus knew the man well enough. Those that had been rejected by the wizard society tended to stick together and Duko was no exception. Having been mauled ruthlessly by a non-turned werewolf had left him permanently disfigured. Rumors had spread that the physical disfigurement was nothing compared to the psychological side-effects. One particularly nasty one even claimed that the man dined on human flesh during the week of the full moon. Not that Remus believed any of that. People made up ridiculous notions about himself when he first turned. Even now they still circulated.

Remus often found that he reluctantly enjoyed Duko's company despite his actions. The man was no Mundungus, but he did partake in his own shady activities. A sad reality for most wizards who had been attacked by a magical creature.

Duko let a puff of smoke sail into the sky before speaking, "What brings yous all ther way teh this no name muggle town?"

"You know as well as I do that we aren't in an exclusively muggle town," Remus rolled his eyes before sighing. "It's the same reason why anyone goes to the far reaches of the wizarding world. To get what no one wants to give."

Duko stumbled. "Don' tell me yer goin' teh old Silas?" Remus's silence was answer enough. "That man'll bleed yous dry!"

Lupin shrugged. "It's the only option right now."

Duko frowned. "You know that ain' true. Ivo would take care of yeh."

Lupin raised a brow. "Is that why you're sauntering down main street without a care for the moon?" It was reckless to be out at this hour even for someone who wouldn't completely turn. Lupin was only out because it was necessary. He wouldn't be here if he had any other choice.

Duko gave a lopsided smile. "Light'n up, mate. Ivo's no Greyback. He understands the pain us lycanthropes haf, and only wants teh give us opportunities that the wizarding world refuses teh provide."

"From what I hear, Ivo only uses werewolves to intimidate and do his dirty work," Lupin replied stiffly.

Duko laughed. "Where'd yeh 'ear that from? Ol' Silas or the famous Wizengamot dingbat himself?" He nudged Lupin with his elbow. "Yev been too busy playing pet dog ter realize what's out there fer yous."

"I'm not interested, Duko," Lupin replied curtly.

"Yeh sure? Word 'round the street is yer out of a job…"

Lupin's eye twitched. News travelled fast. "I'm not changing my mind," he stated irritably.

Duko shrugged. "Can' say I ne'er tried teh help." He turned to walk away. "If yeh change yer mind, yeh know where teh find me."

Lupin nodded. "Take care of yourself, Duko," he offered, despite the tension.

The man smirked. "I'd worry abou' yerself, yeh mangy mutt. Clock's ticking!"

Lupin smirked and turned down an alley. Finding his destination, Lupin walked into the back entrance of the apothecary shop.

"Toby," Lupin greeted.

The man was busy grinding ingredients into powder. "We're closed, Remus," he called over his shoulder, though there was no bite in his voice.

"And yet you're still here working," Lupin noted. "Where's your boss?"

"Home," Toby growled. "The fat toad's probably enjoying a fine glass of firewhiskey right now," The shop had been quite busy today. While Silas was thrilled at the increase in business, it meant more work for his apprentice, Toby. The young man still had to restock the potions and elixirs before he could head home, Boss's orders. He gave a withering glance at the clock, mourning the hour and dreading the news he would have to give to Remus before nightfall.

"And he wonders why he can't keep his employees," Lupin muttered. "Do you need help?" He couldn't help but pity the young apprentice. When they had first met, Toby had been fresh out of Hogwarts, barely holding it together on the steps of the back entrance. Silas had had a fit when the young graduate had brewed an unusable hiccoughing solution. Instead of mentoring him through the process, the boss had cast the hiccoughing curse on him in an effort to persuade him to 'do better'. Seeing a student in need, and being an amateur potionest himself, Lupin had walked him through the steps of the potion until it was able to cure him. Since then Lupin mentored him here or there.

"I'm just about finished, but thanks," Toby said. He glanced at the clock. "You're cutting it close."

"My apologies, it's been a long day. I'll be quick and let you be on your way," Lupin offered, getting straight to business.

Toby didn't meet his gaze. "There's nothing to be quick about," he responded bitterly. Lupin gave him a questioning look, but Toby moved onto his next task and grabbed a heavy crate of bottles.

As he carried them across the store, Lupin stepped to block his way. "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

Toby shouldered past him and set the crate down. With his back turned away, he admitted the dreadful truth. "The boss got rid of our stock."

An unsettling feeling began to grow. "What?" Lupin asked.

Toby clenched his fists. "Didn't like that sort of people hanging around the shop. Said they were unsavory," he spat angrily. "'It's bad for business, Toby. People didn't want to buy from a shop that catered to…'" he trailed off. He didn't want to finish his statement, but he didn't need to.

"Merlin's beard! He couldn't have waited one more day?" Lupin hissed, panic was slowly taking root. "Doesn't he realize what tonight is ?"

"I don't think he cares," Toby replied dispassionately. When he finally looked at Lupin with guilt. "He threw them out before he told me so I couldn't save you any."

Lupin's mind was racing. If he didn't have the potion, then he couldn't be near anyone. He couldn't stay here. It wasn't safe. "I have to go." He moved toward the door.

"Be careful out there, Remus." The ringing of the door signalled his departure.

The rain was unrelenting, and Lupin looked wildly around for a safe place to hide away. It had been a few years since he needed to find a place this quickly. In recent years, he had always been able to scrounge up enough money to pay for the costly Wolfsbane potion. His time at Hogwarts had been the best since the potion was provided to him with his contract. Granted, though he did succumb to the full moon almost a year ago, it wasn't intentional, and thankfully no one had gotten hurt.

There, across the river was a port warehouse. He could climb into one of the shipping crates and stay the night there. It was too late for anyone to be milling around and the warehouse was big enough that any noise would stay in the building. It would be perfect. Lupin took off, not wanting to delay any further.

A/N - This chapter was more a set up for the next few chapters. I've always wondered about the underground wizarding community ever since Lupin went undercover in the Order of the Phoenix. JK didn't really expand on it so I'm looking forward to exploring some options:)

Next chapter features Danny ^.^