Remus sat in Dumbledore's office, staring at the various knick-knacks on Dumbledore's shelves. Whenever he blinked, it seemed as if another image was stained onto the insides of his eyelids: another house, another place, another country. The shelves contained books on duelling, religion, and Dark creatures. A green lamp sat on the table by the larger armchair. A green rug covered the floor. The air smelled of tea, sunshine, and parchment. And, on the armchair, another man sat, staring at Remus as if he had a secret… because he had.

"What seems to be the problem?" Dumbledore asked. "I hear Professor Flitwick was planning on asking you to try out for A.N.N.O.Y.E.D. Did it go badly?"

"I won," said Remus.

"You won?"

"The duel. Against Simmons. The Auror. He was Questus' roommate, did you know?"

Dumbledore was looking at Remus intensely, and Remus knew, just from Dumbledore's expression, that he knew—he knew everything—and he'd known everything right from the beginning.

"I was aware of that, yes," said Dumbledore gently.

"So let me get this straight," said Remus. "Questus was bitten by a werewolf while working as an Auror. He quit before anyone could find out—besides his roommates, who hated him for it—and then he moved to a house directly next to mine, lived there for a year, but it somehow slipped his mind to tell me, the werewolf, that he was one as well. He lied over and over again. He kept it from me. And I'm guessing you, Madam Pomfrey, and my parents also knew… but no one told me?!"

Dumbledore was silent for a moment. Remus could hear the clock ticking. He crossed his arms.

"That is the long and short of it, yes," said Dumbledore. "But you're missing some important details. Do you mind if I start from the beginning?"

Remus sighed. He could feel his shoulders sinking, and the anger gave way to hurt and disappointment. "I would like some tea," he asked in a very small voice.

"Of course." Dumbledore waved his wand, and a piping kettle and mug appeared in front of Remus. "Feel free to drink as much as you want."

Remus slowly poured himself some tea and took a sip. Dumbledore always added far too much milk. Questus added hardly any at all. Remus hated Dumbledore's tea. "Go on," he said, taking another sip.

"There was an attack in Peebleton," said Dumbledore, watching Remus very closely as if he was afraid that Remus would break at any moment. "Fenrir Greyback deployed some of the werewolves in his pack in the hopes that civilians would be killed or turned. Fortunately, the Aurors were alerted and managed to fight off the werewolves before any civilians were killed. There were five Aurors on the mission: Marquis Simmons, Laura Gardner, Calvin Crawford, Bethany Webb, and John Questus."

"And… Bethany Webb was Questus' girlfriend, wasn't she?"

"She was indeed. The two of them had been dating for less than a month, but they were nearly inseparable. I never had the pleasure of meeting her as an adult, but I did teach her. From what I remember, she always spoke her mind and could be quite blunt, but she was also prone to making mistakes when nervous—which was a fault—and had a high level of empathy and kindness—which was a strength. John, therefore, was similar in some ways to her, but he had strengths where she was lacking and weaknesses where she was strong. I imagine she and John balanced each other out very well, both in duelling technique and in personality."

"But she died."

"Yes."

"Simmons told me that Questus had the opportunity to abort the mission, but he didn't."

"That's correct. I do believe he made was the right choice, though, even though it led to Bethany's death and his own injury. Not a single civilian was injured that day, and the attack could have been destructive."

"But Questus and his girlfriend were injured."

"Correct. You must remember, though, that danger was in their job description. As Aurors, they were fully prepared to give their lives—and I know they both would do it all over again, though perhaps not in exactly the same way." Dumbledore smiled sadly. "What happened to 'Professor Questus', Remus?"

Remus crossed his arms. "That's a title of respect," he said, "and I haven't decided whether he's worthy of it."

"Ah, I see. Remus, I know you're hurt, but…"

"Keep going."

"Very well. With the help of the Werewolf Capture Unit and the Aurors, the werewolves were kept at bay. One was captured and questioned. His name was Martin Doves."

"I… remember that. Dad told us about it the summer before last, and there was an article in the Prophet. He was executed, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

"But he hadn't bitten anyone himself?"

"No. He had been captured before he'd had the chance to."

"But he would have, if he hadn't been captured so early on."

"Perhaps." Dumbledore gazed at Remus for a moment, as if trying to read his mind without use of Legilimency, and then continued. "Auror Simmons found John once the werewolves were gone and healed him before bringing him to an isolated building in the area. He sent me an owl, and I arrived promptly. I brought him to my cottage, and Madam Pomfrey healed him as much as she could before he gained consciousness."

"I didn't lose consciousness when I was bitten."

"He had been awake all night, running on straight adrenaline, and was dealing with heavy emotions besides. He didn't remember being bitten at all when he awoke, and I am not surprised."

"Oh."

"I visited him two days later, when he'd had the chance to recuperate."

"How was he dealing with it?"

"He was angry. His girlfriend had just died, and his life was, as he believed, ruined. He'd done enough research on werewolves to know exactly what the bite entailed, and he wasn't looking forward to it. He was grieving. He was upset. And, most of all, he was confused."

"Confused?"

"Yes. You must understand that, when John Questus had left Hogwarts, he'd gotten back his dream job, gotten a girlfriend whom he was vaguely planning on marrying, and was overall in a very good place in life. Everything had worked out to his advantage, and then something catastrophic and life-changing happened. Wonderful things had been placed in front of him, before being violently and suddenly snatched away. He was upset."

Remus couldn't imagine Questus upset. "Then what happened?"

"Slowly, he healed. I decided to buy him the house next to yours. I didn't tell him that you lived there, of course, before he moved in—he'd never do it otherwise—but I knew that it would be beneficial for the both of you. I expected him to tell you, of course."

"But he didn't."

"No, he didn't. I also set him a job. He was to research Dark activity, find patterns, and plan attacks. I'm going to start up a vigilante group very soon, and…"

"You are?"

"I am. I'm not sure when, but I would like to give an opportunity to fight to everyone who cannot become an Auror. You are invited to join, of course, but I must insist you complete school first."

"Wow," said Remus. "That's… wow, okay. I'll think about it."

"No. Don't think about it yet. The war might be over before you are even of age. I beg you do not worry yourself with such big decisions until they are relevant. Anyway, I asked John to complete some research, and he certainly did so with vigor and passion. He did everything I asked of him."

"But he didn't tell me that he was a werewolf."

"No, he didn't."

"Why?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I've been wondering the same thing," he said. "I heard his reasons, and they didn't make much sense to me. I believe… I believe he was planning to tell you, but I think it took some courage. I think he was waiting for the right time. I think…" Dumbledore trailed off into silence.

"What? Please, Professor, I need to know why. I can't go on thinking that he didn't tell me for no good reason. I thought he cared about me, and…"

"He did," said Dumbledore. "In fact, I think he cared too much. John's creed had always been that everybody, no matter how young and fragile, deserves information. He believed that information is a right, and he believed that no one should be shielded. After all…"

"The Dark Arts wait for no one," Remus quoted. "Yeah, I got it. That's precisely why it doesn't make sense that he didn't tell me."

"Well, I think he started to change. I think it was subtle: it happened inside his head first, and even he did not notice. Then it spread to his actions, subtly and secretly. I think he finally started to understand why people keep things from other people."

"Which is…?"

"Because they care. John Questus had gone through life caring about no one after the death of his sister. Then he met you. He didn't like you at the time, but he ended up taking you under his wing—almost caring, but not enough to protect you. Then he met Bethany, and he cared for her very much. With Bethany, something changed. He allowed himself to become more vulnerable—to love people, just because of who they are, regardless of how he would benefit from it later on. Then he started spending more time with you, and what had already begun a year earlier came to its full fruition. He realized that he cared very much—he cared about you, he cared about your parents, and he even cared about his cat. He started to realize that love is a very powerful thing, and it can cause people to do things that are wonderful and awful."

"Like keeping important things from me."

"Exactly. He knew the information would hurt you, and he didn't want to see you upset. After the first month or so, he knew that it was too late to tell you without seeing you even more upset—upset, may I add, like you are right now."

"He didn't want to see me upset, so he did things that he knew would make me upset later on?"

"Fear is not always rational, which is a truth I believe you taught him over and over again. He thought himself to be a reasonable man, but he was always, after all, merely a man. Nothing more. Nothing less. Regrettably, mankind is not always rational."

"But…"

"The other reason, as he told me, was that he was emotionally drained. He had never dealt well with emotions—in fact, they were his greatest fear. After Bethany died and he was injured, I believe he was tired. A bit depressed, even. He didn't want to rock the boat, and keeping things from you was the easiest way to keep his head above water."

"Oh, wonderful. Causing me more pain to save himself a little. That doesn't sound like love. That sounds selfish to me."

"Love is often selfish, Remus. It can be a great strength as well as a great weakness. It is a weakness I often find myself susceptible to."

"So you're saying he kept the truth from me because he cared about me and he cared about himself?"

"That is the extent of it, yes."

"Rubbish. He didn't care about either of those things. If he did, he'd've told me the truth!"

"I know it is difficult to understand. You must know, though… he loved you, I know he did, and the John who died a year ago was not the John you met as a first-year. He changed, and I think it was for the better, even though he made mistakes along the way."

Remus finished off his tea and poured himself some more. He was still angry—so angry that his hands were trembling, his lips were twitching, and his face felt hot. "See, here's the thing," he said. "A small mistake is easy to forgive. A slight lapse of judgement is normal. A year-long refusal to do the right thing? That's not a mistake. That's a conscious decision that he probably reconsidered many times and still didn't do the right thing. That's harder to forgive."

"I know. He was misguided. I do believe he was going to tell you, though."

"Not soon enough. I was lonely, and I told him that over and over again. I felt like no one understood. It would have meant the world to me if I'd had someone to talk to about it, someone who understood… I mean, I always felt like he understood, so I suppose he was helping out anyway. But still."

"I know."

"I wish… more than anything, I wish I could talk to him about it. I want nothing more right now than to hear about his experiences… talk about my own… get an answer, directly from him, about why he didn't tell me. It feels like something's missing now. I feel so empty."

"I know."

"It was a stupid thing of him to do, keeping it a secret. But I think part of the reason I'm so upset is that, whenever I learn something new about him, I want to talk to him about it. He was always so good at conversation. This is such an… such an interesting topic that we never got to discuss. So many good stories died with him, and…"

There were tears on Remus' cheeks, and he swiped a hand across his cheek, embarrassed. "It's been a year," he said, "and I still miss him, and this makes me miss him even more, even though I'm so angry with him. I don't understand."

"Neither do I," said Dumbledore, pouring Remus some more tea. "I think that, if there's anything to be learned from this, it's that emotions are not a thing that are easily understood."

Remus went to the Hospital Wing next. He knocked on the door, and Madam Pomfrey opened it nearly immediately. "Remus!" she cried. "Flitwick told me that there was a spot of trouble with a Ministry official. He said you might need a Calming Draught…."

"I don't," Remus interrupted. "I really don't care about that."

"Your eyes are puffy. Have you been crying?"

"A little."

"Are you feeling all right?"

"No. Yes. Physically."

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Do you need to talk?"

"Yeah, I have a question or two. Are my friends in there?"

"They are indeed. There was a small collision, and they all managed to break or sprain something."

"But… only them? Not the rest of the people playing Quidditch?"

"You know how they are."

"…Yeah."

Remus stepped into the Hospital Wing and was immediately greeted by his friends. "Moony!" said James. "You left the scrimmage early! We played for five hours straight! It was great! I fell off my broom and into the lake, where a Grindylow got me and tried to pull me under, so Sirius had to save me, but then he fell in, too, and… have you been crying?"

"No," said Remus. "Crying's for babies."

"Then why are your eyes all puffy?"

Remus sat on an empty bed and took a deep breath. "Madam Pomfrey," he said, "you knew that Professor Questus was a werewolf, didn't you?"

There was a stunned silence. Peter's mouth was gaping, and James and Sirius looked shocked. Madam Pomfrey's eyebrows raised for a moment, and then they returned to a neutral position as she said, "Who told you?"

"The Auror who came in for my A.N.N.O.Y.E.D. tryout."

James' mouth fell open now, too. "You're joking," he said. "You tried out for A.N.N.O.Y.E.D.?"

"Yeah."

"Did you make it?!"

"No. I mean, yes. I should have. My tryout was excellent. But the Auror didn't much like werewolves, so he didn't let me to the next round."

"That's not fair!" cried James. "I'm going to march to the Ministry headquarters right this instant and give him a piece of my mind!"

"Please don't. I didn't want to be in any sort of spotlight, anyway. This is for the best. But didn't you hear what I said about Questus?"

"Yes… are you sure?" whispered Peter.

"Yes. I mean, he wasn't a werewolf the whole time… only after he left Hogwarts. But remember how he said he'd been cursed? Remember how bad his leg was? Well, it was mangled by a werewolf's teeth, and he was a werewolf that whole time. And he never told me."

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Yes," she said, "I can confirm. I told him again and again to tell you, Remus, and I was furious that he never did. I never liked him, you know that—he was always too blunt for my tastes—but, at that time, he wasn't blunt enough. I knew you needed someone to talk to, I knew it would mean the world to you to have someone who understood, and I was angry that he was lying to you."

"I'm angry, too."

"You certainly have the right to be! That lying, awful, evil…"

"I'm not angry at him. I'm angry at… myself, honestly. I mean, I'm angry at him, too. But I can't believe I didn't notice." Remus brought his fist down against a pillow and scowled. "I'm a werewolf," he said. "I've been a werewolf since I was five. I've been dealing with those symptoms my whole life, and his own were so glaringly obvious, now that I look back on it. I could have helped him if I'd known! I could have… been nicer about it instead of going on about how awful it was, how it was a death sentence, how bleak my future was… I can't imagine how all that complaining must have made him feel…."

Remus trailed off. "Oh," he said. "Maybe that was another reason he didn't tell me at first. He wanted information on what it was like, and he knew I'd sugarcoat it if I knew what he was."

"Not a good enough reason," said Madam Pomfrey.

"I know, but I want as many reasons as I can get."

There was a long moment of silence, and then Remus said, in a voice that was too strangled and small for his own liking, "I'm so stupid."

"You're not stupid," said Madam Pomfrey. "You can recognize the symptoms in yourself, but of course you have trouble recognizing them in other people. You're the werewolf, after all. You're not used to being around others who are, and you had no reason to expect it."

"Or maybe it's because I'm always so self-pitying, so self-absorbed, and so selfish that I can't see anything but myself. Maybe I was too wrapped up in my own pain to notice that someone else was suffering too. Maybe I'm just an awful person."

"No," said Madam Pomfrey. "No, Remus, it wasn't your fault. It was his. He was the adult, so it wasn't your responsibility to care for him, especially when he was keeping it a secret."

"Maybe when he was my professor. But when he was a werewolf, he was no longer an authority figure. We were on equal footing, more or less. We were… friends, just about. And it's not a student's responsibility to care about the health of the professor, but it is a mutual responsibility between friends. He helped me, and I could have helped him if I'd only paid more attention."

"No. Remus, you trusted him, and you are not at fault because he betrayed your trust."

"But I didn't notice."

"He lied to you! He was a highly-trained Auror who worked as a spy on multiple occasions, and he watched you very closely for a year. He knew how you functioned, he knew how your mind worked, he knew the tricks you used to lie to other people about your lycanthropy. He used your own tricks and twisted them just enough so that you wouldn't notice. He pointed out the similarities early on so that you wouldn't grow suspicious of them. He stressed the differences as often as he could. He encouraged you to focus on your own problems, and he was distant about his own while revealing just enough so that you wouldn't become skeptical."

"Okay, but…"

"He conditioned you to think that he was a human with a curse, and you had no reason to believe otherwise. From an outside perspective, his explanation of the facts was just as reasonable as the truth. You are a child, and you were never expected to see through the lies of a master manipulator! You may have been friends, but you were not on equal footing. He had more training, more experience, and was forty years older than you!"

"But now that I look back, it was so obvious!"

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty."

"Do you know what I think?" said James, frowning. "I think you cared about him anyway, even without knowing what it was. You trusted what he told you, and you tried to help. Every time we came over, you were trying to help him without pitying him, which we know firsthand is a really hard thing to do. You were patient and kind, even though you didn't know exactly what it was."

"And you weren't expected to know, just like Madam Pomfrey said," said Peter. "We didn't know that he was a werewolf, and we'd seen all the signs in you. We were the ones who should have known."

"Well," said James, "me and Padfoot suspected, but we never imagined it was actually true."

"And you didn't tell me, either?" Remus said, groaning.

"It was only a tiny suspicion. But look, Moony, there's a difference between not knowing and not caring. You did everything that you were supposed to do. If he wanted to avoid help, then that was his fault."

"How come you never use the same reasoning on me? I avoid help all the time, but you help me anyway!"

"Look," said Sirius. "Let me make this abundantly simple for you, you idiot. Do you blame us for not figuring out that you were a werewolf sooner?"

"No, but…"

"Even though we ignored the signs? Even though we said terrible things about werewolves before we knew? Even though it was blatantly obvious at times and we let our own prejudices get in the way of the truth? Even though we were complete and utter self-absorbed gits on occasion?"

"No."

"Then why do you think John would blame you for being a tiny bit stupid, but helping him as best you could anyway?"

Remus fell silent. "I guess you're right. Maybe… maybe stupidity isn't a moral failing."

"We're always right," said James. "Now let's get out of this place. You were right, Moony: the Hospital Wing is terribly boring. It's making me antsy."

"Stay off that ankle as much as possible, Potter," said Madam Pomfrey.

"Of course, Poppy. I'll only run three miles this evening instead of four."

"Spraining muscles is horrible," grumbled Sirius. "I don't know how you do it all the time, Moony."

"Practice. I'll help you practice next time you annoy me, if you want."

They ambled out of the Wing, laughing and talking, but Remus poked his head back in once his friends had gone ahead a bit. "It still hurts," he confessed to Madam Pomfrey, "and I'm still a little angry with him."

"So am I," she replied, "but you know what? I don't think he'd mind at all. I almost think he enjoyed it when people disliked him." Madam Pomfrey shrugged. "And, even if he didn't, then I don't think he cares. He is dead, after all."

Remus couldn't help smiling a little at that. "You know, you sounded just like him for a second," he said.

Madam Pomfrey gagged dramatically, and Remus took off after his friends. They would play a game or two of Gobstones in the common room. They would have a pillow fight. They would explore the castle after dark under the safety of James' Invisibility Cloak. And then they would sleep, and Remus would wake up to a brand-new day, and things would probably—maybe—be a little less complicated.

And even if they weren't… Remus would rest in the notion that at least he was a lot better at dealing with complicated emotions that Professor Questus had been.

AN: Well, that's it for 2023. I hope 2024 is far better for you than the 1974 spring term has been for Remus so far!