"I hope we're not in trouble," said Remus for the fiftieth time as they walked to Professor Dumbledore's office the next day. "I hope he doesn't hate me. I hope he's not angry."

"Merlin's beard, Moony," said Sirius with a massive eyeroll. "You're being ridiculous. I know you don't like getting in trouble, but it's not the end of the world if we are."

"I know, but he's done so much for me, and I just threw it away by doing something stupid and dangerous… again!"

"You don't even look this nervous before a full moon," Sirius said. "Just calm down. You've been through worse things, as you constantly remind us."

"Right." Remus tried to breathe. Sirius was right. At least it wasn't a full moon. No matter what happened, Remus could rest in the knowledge that Dumbledore couldn't possibly do worse than what was going to happen to Remus the next time the full moon rolled around. Even if Dumbledore was angry, even if Dumbledore ended up expelling Remus anyway, even if Dumbledore hated Remus forever… at least Dumbledore wasn't going to rip Remus limb-from-limb and force him into a new shape. He'd never do that.

Right?

Right!

So Remus took a seat in Dumbledore's office, reminding himself that he should be thankful for every single second that he wasn't a wolf. He should be savoring this. He shouldn't be afraid. He was wasting precious daylight; precious time spent in his own mind. He was going to say something to Dumbledore, and he wasn't going to be afraid whatsoever, and he was going to be confident. Cool. Brave. Just like his friends.

"I'mnotintroubleamI?" he said, tripping over his words like a terrified first-year.

Fiddlesticks. That hadn't been nearly as confident, cool, and brave as Remus had intended it to be.

Remus looked up and met Dumbledore's eyes, and the telltale twinkle was back. "You're not in trouble," said Dumbledore. "Not one bit. In fact, I rather blame myself for the whole incident. I do not blame you."

Remus released his breath with a small whooshing noise that he really hoped Dumbledore couldn't hear. "But I… I can't believe I didn't tell you. I didn't even think about it. It was potentially dangerous, and I didn't even think to tell you. I would have if I'd thought about it—really, I would have, but it… didn't seem important."

"Of course it didn't," said Dumbledore. "Yes, you should have told me. It was ancient and powerful magic, and of course I wanted to know about it. The very fact that you felt you had to sneak into the Divination classroom means that, somewhere deep down, you knew it was wrong. But I don't entirely blame you, because you were just acting as teenagers often do."

Remus opened his mouth to argue, but Dumbledore held up a finger, cutting him off. "Remus, it is my job, as headmaster, to ensure that the school is safe. It was my job to search for cursed objects and questionable items. I should have known about the portrait, and I should have gotten rid of it."

"But there was no way for you to know," argued Remus.

"Yes, there was. Remus, I was the one who uncovered the portrait in the Divination classroom in the first place. That room used to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom—we changed it a year or two before your first year at Hogwarts in the hopes that the supposed Defense Against the Dark Arts curse was attached to the room itself. Before it was the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, however, it was the Transfiguration classroom, and I used to teach Transfiguration."

"You did?"

"Yes. It was many years ago, but I did. I found the portrait, tucked away in the deepest recesses of that closet, under a powerful concealment spell. I inspected it. I studied it. I found nothing."

"But… you couldn't go inside?"

"No. Max and I questioned the Founders yesterday, however, and they revealed that teachers at Hogwarts were barred from entering. The portrait was, after all, for the students. Max was only able to enter because he wasn't staff, and I was only able to enter after undoing that particular charm. So I was not able to enter, and I did not find any spells attached to the portrait. But instead of confiscating it just in case, because anything under such a heavy concealment spell is bound to be dangerous, I… put it back."

Dumbledore sighed. "It was stupid of me, in hindsight. I cannot say I would have done the same thing now, but I admit I forgot all about the portrait until recently. I'd assumed it was just a normal portrait, which was my fatal mistake. At a school like Hogwarts, one ought never to trust appearances.

"And so, Remus, that is why I am not angry with you in the slightest. I feel guilty, which is an emotion I am sure you know all too well. I feel guilty that I failed to notice such powerful magic on a dangerous object. I feel guilty that I forgot about it for so many years. And I feel guilty that you four managed to become affected by it, especially since it is my job—and my promise—to protect you. I am sorry."

Remus had felt uncomfortable when he'd thought he was going to be in trouble, but he felt vastly more uncomfortable now that he knew he wasn't. "It really was mostly my fault," he said. "I should have told you."

"Yes, you should have. But you didn't, and I can understand why. You are a curious fourteen-year-old child with a penchant for chaos, a tragic past, and a great love for conversation. You felt lonely after the death of John Questus, who had taken on something of a mentor role in your life. You missed talking things out with someone like that—someone who cared, but not too much; someone who was intelligent, witty, and sharp; someone who listened more than they spoke; someone who was judgmental enough to be interesting but not judgmental enough to be bigoted. You craved that, and you found it in Rowena Ravenclaw. Of course you didn't tell me, Remus. I would have done the same thing, had I been in your position. And I feel confident that, if you had known it was a danger, you would have told me."

Remus felt tears springing to his eyes, but he didn't let them fall. "Right," he managed.

"I'm just glad you're safe, and I think we've all learned valuable lessons. Further punishment would do nothing, as far as I am concerned. The lessons have been taught, the consequences have been faced, and making you write lines would be entirely ineffective. Don't you agree?"

All four of them nodded.

Dumbledore smiled. "Max, Professor Dilley, and I have removed every last trace of Salazar Slytherin from your house, Remus. Your parents are delighted to have been living in a piece of history, and the British Wizarding Museum would like to take ownership of your house for further study."

"We're homeless?" cried Remus.

"No. Dear heavens, no. For your troubles, they've provided you with a new house, tucked away in the corner of an English countryside. It is a rather nice house. Two stories. Floo network. Swimming pool. Working amenities. Strong cellar. And it was built a mere three years ago, so there is absolutely no chance that it once belonged to a Hogwarts Founder."

"Oh, my goodness," Remus whispered.

"You and your parents will finish up the process of moving when you get back home."

"Wow," said Remus. "That's… wow. That's just about worth almost dying."

"Almost being Vanished," James corrected. "Technically, you didn't almost die."

"Oh, let me have my fun."

Professor Dumbledore smiled. "You four are free to go. Please remember to alert me of anything suspicious in the future, and in turn, I shall remember to inspect any blank portraits very, very carefully."

Remus slept in the next day. It was the last day at Hogwarts, and he wanted to enjoy it to the fullest… but the full moon wasn't terribly far off, and he was exhausted.

At about nine-thirty, he made his way to the Great Hall. His friends were already there. "Hi," said Remus, clearing away James' plates so that he'd have some space. "What are you up to?"

"Flicking water at Snape," said James.

"Oh. Sounds scintillating."

"Yeah."

"What's next on the agenda?"

"I wanted to take a photograph of the Quidditch Cup for Mum and Dad. You mind taking a photo of me next to it, Padfoot?"

"Nope, no problem."

"You know, with the points earned from the Quidditch Cup, Gryffindor has negative one House points. Be careful not to earn any today, because I really want to end the year in the negatives."

Remus shook his head. "You're an idiot."

They arrived at the place where the Quidditch Cup was normally kept, but it was nowhere to be found. James' face was turning slightly pink. "What happened to it?" he cried. "Do you think they're cleaning it or something?"

Suddenly, Peeves came flying through an open window. "Where's what?" he asked smugly.

"The Quidditch Cup!" The pink in James' face had given way to a deep red. "Did you do something to it?"

"Oooooops," said Peeves, grinning. "I might have accidentally dropped it in the laaaake…."

With a cry of inhuman fury, James began sprinting out of the castle. A moment later, Remus heard a slight splash, and Peeves starting laughing maniacally.

Remus, Sirius, and Peter ran outside, only to find James crawling out of the lake, covered in seaweed, the Quidditch Cup held tightly in his arms. Students laughed, and James fumed. "I hate you, Peeves!" he said, shaking his fist. "I hate you!"

"Just doing my job!" cackled Peeves.

"You know what?" cried James. "The deal is off! You hear me? The deal is OFF!" He waddled away from the lake, dripping water and fury. Peeves blew a raspberry and flew off.

Remus, Sirius, and Peter ran over to help James, but James shoved them off. "For the record," said Remus, "I'm glad we called off that deal with Peeves. Giving Zonko's products to a poltergeist and trusting him to uphold his end? Never a good idea."

"Okay, fine, you were right," said James. "You don't have to gloat. We'll just have to sneak into places to draw up the map on our own next year. There aren't many left to hit, anyway."

"Shouldn't be too hard," said Sirius. "We're Marauders, after all. Sneaking is our pride and passion. We are known for our inconspicuousness."

"Right," said Remus, watching James flump throughout the corridors in dripping clothes and seaweed-ridden hair, confidently marching to the tune of onlookers' laughter. "Definitely inconspicuous, mate."

The day passed in a flurry of fun, and soon enough, it was time for Dumbledore's closing speech. Dumbledore stood at the front, surveying the crowds of students, and smiled. The room went silent.

"Good evening," he said. "This has been a very eventful year, to say the least. Dark magic is sweeping the nation as Voldemort rises to prominence, and some of you have lost family members and friends to Death Eater activities. I would like to say simply this: Keep the hope, keep the fight, and remember that one is never really in the dark if one remembers to turn on the light."

"Unless the electricity's out," hollered James. "We learned that in Muggle Studies!"

Professor Dumbledore smiled. "If the electricity is out, James, then I would recommend a simple Wand-Lighting Charm, which I find nearly always does the trick. Now, I also want to compliment all of you on your exam results this year. You've all done exceptionally well in the face of such fear and difficulty. I would like to congratulate Professor McGonagall in particular—the O.W.L. examiners have told me that nearly every single one of her students passed. For such a difficult subject, that is truly remarkable.

"I would also like to compliment the Gryffindor Quidditch team for winning the Cup, though I must admit that the House points earned from such a feat will not bring them past negative points. The current score stands with Ravenclaw in third with three hundred fifty-two points, Hufflepuff in second with four hundred one points, Slytherin in first with four hundred eighteen points, and Gryffindor in last with negative one point."

James and Sirius cheered.

"I would, however, like to reward some last-minute points. I give thirty points to the Marauders for outstanding courage in the face of great difficulty and danger."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Up and down the tables, Gryffindors were beside themselves—hooting, hollering, and cheering. The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had twenty-nine points... not even close to Slytherin's four hundred eighteen, but at least it was something.

James and Sirius, on the other hand, were scowling. "Next year," swore James. "Next year, we'll most certainly end the year in negative points. Mark my words!"

"Right," said Remus, rolling his eyes. "Good luck with that."

Dear Professor Questus,

It's Remus. I just finished my third year at Hogwarts, and now I'm sitting at home—not the home I moved to after you died, but a brand new house. It's a pretty nice house! Fully furnished, pretty big, there's a huge sitting room with plenty of room for a sofa, and the cellar is strong. It has a good Floo network, and the kitchen is wonderful. And I swear, this is the biggest room I've ever had!

Here I am, sitting on my bed in my room. Mum and Dad are talking outside in the garden (it's such a lovely garden). I have nothing else to do at the moment, so I figured I'd write you one last letter.

It's been forever since I did, and it feels a bit strange. Well, of COURSE it feels strange—it's not as if I'm ever going to send it, and it's not as if you're ever going to see it. Writing a letter to you without expecting a response is weird. I'd always expected responses, and I'd always get them right away.

But I need some closure. It feels as if I've been searching for closure all year, but there's never an end-all-be-all. I always need more. I felt like I had some before I left for school after summer holidays ended, but now that I know what you were, I feel like I need more.

I can't believe you never told me. I can't believe I never noticed. I always thought for sure that I'd know another werewolf if I saw one, but I suppose I was wrong. I still feel betrayed and a little bit resentful, because I always trusted you to tell me the truth and the whole truth. I want to say that, now that I know you've lied to me, I can't trust anything else you said… but I can't, because I still trust you. I still trust everything you told me, and I still think about your advice sometimes. I trust the duelling notebook (it's pulled me through some tough times recently, including a duel with your former roommate and with the Hogwarts Founders—I'll write all about all that, of course), and I reread your letters from last year on occasion when I'm feeling lost. You weren't perfect, but you gave good advice. Even though you lied to me, I can trust your advice. After all, why let what you DIDN'T tell me affect what you DID tell me?

I might as well catch you up on some things that happened after you died. I can't believe you never saw me finish my second year… and here I am, all done with my third. It's unthinkable, really. I feel like I've grown so much, and at the same time, I feel the same as I did a year and a half ago, sitting in your house and drinking tea on your armchair while you carelessly insulted and berated me. I miss that. You were such a terrible person sometimes, but that made you a good person. Do you understand? Well, it doesn't matter. You're dead.

I graduated my second year sixth in the form. I think I sent you a letter about it, and I assume you read it because you sent one back, but I don't know for sure. I went home after you died, and my family and I wandered around the house for a couple of weeks, totally lost. Dumbledore helped us move to a house in Ireland. It was a pretty nice house.

There was a secret passageway, though, and I was determined to find it. My friends and I came across a hyper-realistic portrait of the four Founders of Hogwarts, and we visited them often, all throughout our third year.

The new Defense professor this year was Professor Andrew Dilley (he was a curse-breaker), and he had a dog named Max. He wasn't nearly as good as you. Not nearly as knowledgeable and witty… though he did make far fewer students cry, I'm willing to bet. And at least he was better than Pensley!

I did end up following your advice and taking Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures. Care of Magical Creatures was a little difficult at first—Professor Kettleburn had me carry around a Bowtruckle for about a month to get her used to me—but it all worked out in the end. I started an Arithmancy project that I think you'd love: it's all about calculating my exact symptoms and the time I'll transform on the full moon. You'd be fascinated, I'm sure.

I joined the Duelling Club and Professor Dilley's curse-breaking club (James named it Drew's Crew, which is completely and utterly idiotic). I tutored a boy named Miles Rosenblum at the beginning of the year, who was frequently shunned by his classmates because his brother was a violent Death Eater.

Miles' mother was murdered: you know, Professor Craff. I know you hated her and would probably rejoice at the news, but it was very sad. The new Arithmancy teacher is very pleasant, though. His name is Professor Leek—maybe you knew him. He'd heard of you!

In other news, I was poisoned a couple of times throughout the year. James started a project mapping out the school. My friends are trying to become Animagi, and I'm sabotaging their attempts. I went temporarily deaf. I have absolute pitch (but you already knew that). Sirius taught me all the notes, and now I can't stop thinking about it. There's a bird outside my window right now that's chirping almost a perfect D.

The Founders in the portrait turned out to be evil. Well, they weren't evil, per se—they were only protecting the school, and I was something to protect it against. They tried to Vanish me, but I got away (with the help of your duelling notebook and tips). I must say, I'm quite the duellist now.

I tried out for A.N.N.O.Y.E.D. I would have made it, too, but your former roommate, Simmons, is a git. I did beat him in a duel, though. You'd've been proud of me (maybe you even would have smiled, though I wouldn't go that far).

You know what? I'm getting bored writing you this letter, and I've never been bored writing you letters before. Perhaps it's because I know you'll never see it, or perhaps it's because I have more of a life now.

Right now, I can write my friends a letter, I can unpack things, and I can practice the piano (we have a whole room for the piano in our new house, and Mum and Dad even bought me some sheet music!). My life isn't necessarily a blank slate, but it feels like a tiny corner has been erased—a tiny corner that I can make my own, even though my future is mostly decided due to the lycanthropy. I'm getting by all by myself: no chats over tea or letter-writing necessary.

I miss you very much, Professor, but I think I'll be fine without you.

Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to help an annoying and oftentimes very boring werewolf. I'll never forget you (after all, I still have Edward the Immortal Plant to remember you by), and I'll always appreciate the company you lent me in difficult times. I wish you the best of luck, wherever you are, and I hope you found your sister. Who knows? If an afterlife really does exist (and if I'm invited), perhaps I'll see you again someday and we can catch up.

For now, I'll keep studying, keep spending time with my friends, keep trying my best to be happy, and keep practicing duelling. After all, the Dark Arts wait for no one.

Affectionately yours (yes, I know you despised affection. Deal with it),
R.J. Lupin.

Remus sat at his desk, staring at the finished letter for what seemed like ages. Finally, he picked it up, placed it in the back of the album he'd been using to store all his past letters to and from Professor Questus, and closed the album. He put it back on his bookshelf, and then he stepped away.

Picking up a new sheet of parchment and a fresh quill, he wrote,

Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs—

HAPPY SUMMER! Mum wants you to know that you're invited to my house whenever you'd like. It has a huge garden and a swimming pool. Don't forget to do your summer homework (though I know you probably won't anyway). Write back! I'm bored out of my skull here.

—Moony

Then he sent the letter (the enchanted notebook would have been quicker, but he liked taking the long route sometimes), and set to organizing his room. It had been a long year, and the fresh corner of Remus' not-quite-blank slate was just begging to be filled.

And that's a wrap!

If you've stuck with me and Remus for this long, I wholeheartedly thank you. This was a blast to write, and all your positive feedback has made the editing (and occasionally crippling self-doubt) well worthwhile. I'm not exactly sure how many people are keeping up with this story, but I'd like to thank each and every one of you nonetheless, whether you're a silent or a vocal reader. I appreciate you all!

It's been a long journey, and it's not over yet. Unless you are capable of reading thousands of words in about thirty seconds, then the next chapter should already be posted. Check out Of Animagi and Animosity for another 92 chapters of adventures, antics, and lots of angst. Hope to see you there :D

(Also, I'm aware it's not quite my normal posting time, but I finished editing and I just couldn't wait haha. After this I will continue to update Sunday and Wednesday evening EST, as usual!)