Fact #2: Remus was basically human.

"Technically"? No. But "basically"? Of course. He looked like a human. He talked like a human. He was pretty sure he had human thoughts and emotions (though he supposed he couldn't be sure. He didn't even remember how his mind had been arranged before the bite, and he'd been only four years old anyway).

But he was basically human. He felt human, mostly. He had very human hair. Human eyes. Human skin and limbs. Only three of his classmates had figured out what he was, so he was pretty sure he acted human, too.

But although he was "basically" human, it was a simple fact of life that he was not "technically" human. There were a couple of differences that earned him a medical and legal distinction as "werewolf" and not "human"—and a couple more things that made sure he never, ever forgot it.

Remus had read medical books and journals on the topic of werewolves. His father had bought a truckload of books when Remus had been bitten, and as soon as Remus was old enough, he'd snuck into his father's study during the day (while his father was at work) and read. Remus had been too young to understand the medical jargon, but the charts, pictures, and general gist told him that he was not normal.

Werewolves had a thicker blood consistency than humans. Werewolves had a quicker heart rate. Werewolves' brains were shaped slightly differently. They had different blood pressures, different metabolisms, and different bone densities. They were scientifically proven to have more of a temper, even without full moons (a temper which Remus could control by now, but it still gave werewolves everywhere a bad reputation). Most noticeably and disturbingly of all, werewolves had much, much better senses of hearing, taste, and smell. They even had better night vision. That particular difference haunted Remus every day of his life.

But the worst difference between werewolves and most humans was that all werewolves had absolute pitch, which meant that they could distinguish pitches from one another with perfect accuracy. Wolves used it to communicate, and it somehow carried over to Remus' human form, along with the enhanced hearing.

That would have been all right, actually, if Remus hadn't had another friend with absolute pitch.

But he did, so it wasn't.

Sirius Black had grown up learning the piano (a Pureblood tradition), and both he and his brother happened to have absolute pitch that was perfectly natural and not influenced by lycanthropic abilities. And when Sirius had discovered Remus' shared abilities, he never gave it a rest.

Remus was on hour three of playing every single tune that Sirius could think of by ear. He played the melody, and Sirius improvised chords and countermelodies. James and Peter stood behind them and sang, which wasn't ideal, because neither of them had particularly good voices.

Remus' mother poked her head in. "I'm sorry," she said, "but do I hear a dying cat?"

"Multiple, actually," quipped Remus. "Sirius is lending me sheet music, by the way. He's intent on teaching me the piano."

"He knows all his notes now, but he still needs to work on technique," said Sirius, handing Remus a book of music by a wizarding composer.

Remus looked it over. He'd taught himself to play exactly one piece on the piano as a child (a simplified version of "Moonlight Sonata", because he'd thought it would be funny), so he hadn't known anything about accidentals, note names, or dynamics until Sirius had come along and made it his mission in life to make Remus into a musical genius. "I don't get it," Remus said. "What's that funny little marking? Where's the backwards C with the dots? Where's the squiggly loop?"

"You mean treble and bass clefs? Those are Muggle things. Wizarding staffs only have one clef, and that little marking just shows what octave it's in."

"Oh," said Remus. He didn't get it at all. "How fun."

Suddenly, there was a knocking at the window. Remus stood up and opened it, and a four tawney owls flew in like a procession of soldiers. Each was carrying a creamy envelope with a red seal that Remus immediately recognized. "It's the book lists!" he gasped.

Each Marauder grabbed an envelope and opened it eagerly. "How did they know we'd be at your house?" Peter asked.

Remus grinned. "Magic, of course."

He read over the letter excitedly. "Looks like Professor Dilley's still teaching," he said. "There are even more books about curse-breaking, and that was always Dilley's specialty."

"Your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher from last year, right?" Remus' mother asked. "Why wouldn't he still be teaching?"

"They say there's a curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. No teacher has lasted more than a year in a really long time. But Dilley, a famed curse-breaker, thinks he can break the curse on pure strength of will. I reckon he succeeded."

"Won't succeed till he shows up in class the first day," said James. "These books don't look too bad. Pretty much what I expected. No Shakespeare or poetry collections, at least."

"Yeah, Professor Pensley was weird."

Remus leaned over and peeked at James' list. James was taking every single elective, even studying Divination on his own with once-a-week tutoring. Remus wasn't sure why he was doing it, because James had never much liked schoolwork, but he'd somehow passed all his exams last year. James also had an infamous photographic memory, so there was that.

"Why don't we all go to Diagon Alley together next week?" Remus' mother asked. "It'll be good to get away from the house, and we all have some shopping to do. Lyall can come along if we go Saturday morning."

"That'd be perfect!" said James. "And it'll get Sirius away from the piano."

Sirius grinned and played a short ditty. "You're just jealous I'm better than you at something, Prongs."

Remus decided to bring Bufo, his pet toad, to Diagon Alley, a fact about which James wasn't too happy.

"You look like an idiot with that toad on your shoulder," he said. "Toads were in fashion for a short time a few decades ago. Not anymore. Put him in your pocket or something."

"He wants to see the sunlight," argued Remus. "Look at him. He's so happy out here."

Bufo croaked.

"Fine, you weirdo," James said. "Ooh, there's the potions shop. Do you need more ingredients?"

"Yeah. Could you lot pick some up for me?"

"Why?"

"Can't go in there. There's wolfsbane in it, and wolfsbane tends to make me ill." He cast a sideways glance toward a witch who had just walked past and hoped with all his heart she hadn't heard him. "I have a rather bad allergy," he added, just in case she had.

"How about me and Padfoot get everybody's potions ingredients," proposed James, "and Moony and Wormtail can go pick up everyone's books."

"Sounds all right to me," said Remus' mother. "I'll go with James and Sirius. Lyall, could you follow Remus and Peter?"

"Of course."

And so the Marauders parted ways. After all, Remus had a particular aversion to wolfsbane… and James and Sirius had a particular aversion to books.

The cost of the books was enormous. "It's all right," Remus told his father, who was pushing the book cart with a worried look on his face, "James, Sirius, and Peter are going to pay their parts, too."

"Oh, I wasn't worried about that," said Remus' father. "We're doing well right now, financially. I was worried about that."

He pointed out the window of the bookshop. There was a large crowd of people, which was normal, but they were either running or trying to push past each other, which wasn't normal. "They look terrified," said Peter quietly.

"Something's going on." Remus' father let go of the book cart and pulled out his wand. "Remus, Peter, you stay here. I'm going to find out what's happening."

"I'll come!" said Remus. "I'm a good duellist, remember?"

Remus pulled out his wand, too. He'd been coached personally by his first-year Defense Against the Arts professor, Professor Questus, who had been an Auror. He'd been attending Duelling Club for a year. He'd even tried out for a prestigious national duelling team, as per Professor Flitwick's request, and he would have made it… if he hadn't been a werewolf and the examiner hadn't been terribly prejudiced.

"No," said Remus' father.

"Why not? I'm probably almost as good as you!"

"You're better than me," said Remus' father, who had been sparring with Remus occasionally over the summer. "But no. You're young."

"But—!"

Remus' father took ahold of Remus' hand and guided Remus' wand back into his pocket. "No, Remus. Stay here with Peter. I'll be right back."

Remus' father dashed out of the shop and started pushing past the crowds in the opposite direction, like a small fish swimming against the tide. Remus and Peter watched him go, stunned.

"Let's go follow him," said Remus.

He pulled his wand out again and started walking toward the door, but Peter grabbed his wrist. "Your dad said to stay here," said Peter, eyes wide.

"You can stay here if you'd like. I want to see what's going on."

"It could be dangerous."

Remus looked around the shop to see if anyone was listening before whispering, "I was attacked by a werewolf when I was four. I was poisoned four times last year. I went to an abandoned house with Dumbledore and looked for a hostage. A portrait tried to kill me. I know all about dangerous things, Wormtail, and I'll be fine."

"But…"

"Besides," said Remus, flashing Peter a grin and twirling his wand between his fingers, "I'm a Gryffindor, aren't I? Courage is my middle name."

"Your middle name is John," Peter grumbled, "and your dad's going to be angry with you."

"I'm fourteen years old. I can make my own decisions." Remus managed to wrest his wrist out of Peter's hand, and then he ran from the bookshop and into the crowd.

"What's going on?" he asked a man in the crowd.

He looked at Remus, eyes wide. "Go into a building," he said. "Stay safe."

"But what's going on?"

There was another flash of wild, animalistic fear in the man's eyes. "Death Eaters," he whispered, and then he disappeared into the herd.

That was more or less what Remus had expected. Dark activity had been getting steadily worse for years, and quite a few people had died recently. At the end of Remus' second year, his former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, duelling teacher, and close mentor—Professor Questus—had tragically died in a massacre targeted toward the town next to Remus' house. It had been burned to the ground with Fiendfyre, and over a hundred people had died. Not even a year later, the Arithmancy professor had been killed in Hogsmeade.

"Dark times," Remus mumbled, and he pushed further into the crowd.

It wasn't long before the crowds dissipated and revealed what Remus had been looking for: a masked wizard in pitch-black robes, standing directly next to Ollivander's and levitating a screaming woman about twenty feet into the air.

"Oh, dear," Remus whispered. He looked around for his father, but he was nowhere to be seen… but there was another Death Eater, pointing his wand at a man, who was choking and grasping at his throat… and another one, watching a burning shop with glee… and another, leering menacingly at children huddled in an alley.

Remus' blood boiled. Targeting adults was one thing, but Remus was always particularly angered by the harming of innocent children. He'd been attacked as a child, and he'd grown up in an environment of pain and fear, never having friends until the age of eleven, just because of a Dark curse that had pursued him too early. Adults were bad enough. Children were unacceptable.

Remus cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself before the Death Eaters could see him, and then he snuck closer to the children. He pointed his wand at the Death Eater and cast a nonverbal Full Body-Bind Curse. Immediately, the Death Eater went stiff as a board and fell to the ground.

Another Death Eater turned around. "Which of you Mudbloods did that to him?" he cried furiously. "I'll have your heads! Confess!"

Fiddlesticks, thought Remus, who hadn't anticipated him turning on the children. He prepared himself to cast another spell, but the Death Eater was coming closer… Disillusionment Charms didn't render a person completely invisible, only make them blend in with their surroundings, like a chameleon, so he'd see Remus if he came any closer….

Suddenly, the other Death Eater fell to the ground as well. Remus stared, slack-jawed, and then he noticed a very familiar scent in the air and a distinctive silent snort.

He made his way over to the invisible entity. "Prongs," he whispered. "Padfoot. What are you two doing here?"

"Prongs brought the Invisibility Cloak," snickered Sirius. "We heard the commotion and snuck away from your mum while her back was turned. Seems you did the same thing."

"Yeah," whispered Remus. "My dad should be around here somewhere."

He heard another Death Eater—the one who had been torturing the man—give a cry of rage at the sight of his fallen comrade. "That's too advanced for Mudbloods who don't even know magic!" he cried. "Someone else cast that charm!"

With a simple Finite Incantatum, all the Death Eaters were standing and at the ready once again. "Someone hit me from behind!" a Death Eater protested. "One of you did it!"

"Wasn't me. Dave?"

"No, it was was Marcus. He's always been a sneaky git."

"Wants to take all the glory for himself, I reckon!"

"It wasn't me, I swear! It was those kids!"

"Save it, Marcus!"

More Death Eaters emerged from corners and shops, and then they were all duelling each other in the middle of Diagon Alley. Sparks flew everywhere. Death Eaters fell to the ground. Yells, shouts, and accusations cut through the air like Silver Arrows.

"That seemed too easy," said Remus, watching the children sneak away to safety.

Remus' father appeared from behind an alley—presumably, he'd been fighting a different Death Eater. Blood was running down his head, and he was staggering diagonally instead of walking in a straight line. "Dad," whispered Remus, and then he cast the quickest Disillusionment Charm that he could and ran over to him. "It's me, Dad," he whispered. "All right?"

"What?!" Remus' father's voice was too loud, but a quick glance told Remus that the Death Eaters were too busy fighting each other to notice. "Remus, I told you to stay back in the shop!"

"Aren't you glad I didn't, though? I saved a ton of children!"

"You are a child!"

"So? Doesn't matter. Still saved people."

Remus' father sighed heavily. Suddenly, there were five loud cracks, and a small team of Aurors was suddenly standing in their midst. Remus ran over, grabbed his friends, grabbed his father's hand, and led them into the Three Broomsticks.

Remus' father undid the Disillusionment Charm, and James and Sirius slipped off the Invisibility Cloak. "I'm glad you're all okay," said Remus' father, "but that was very dangerous, boys. Pulling Remus into a pool is one thing. Wrestling on a hardwood floor is one thing. Climbing trees is one thing. But running after Death Eaters intent on terrorizing Diagon Alley on the busiest day of the year? That's crossing a line. We live in dangerous times, and I need you to be safe."

Remus nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"I know you are. And I really can't expect anything different—all three of you are brave, talented, and a little bit reckless. Even I'll admit that you're much more talented than I was at your age. But still… you can't just do that."

Rosmerta wandered by. "Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked.

"No, we were just leaving," said Remus' father. He peered out the window. "Coast looks clear now. We should go find your mother, Remus."

"What happened out there?" asked Rosmerta in a hushed, awed voice. "I heard screaming."

"Death Eaters," responded Remus' father. "I think the Aurors just took care of them, but I wouldn't expect much business today, Rosmerta."

"Oh, my," she said, covering her mouth with both hands. "Oh, dear. That's just awful."

"Well," said Remus' father with a sigh, "at least it won't be very crowded for the rest of the day. No queues, hm?"

"There's always a sunny side, isn't there," Remus said.

Remus was basically human.

But he wasn't technically human, which was why he could hear his parents talking, even though they were in the garden and Remus was alone in his room under the covers, trying to fall asleep.

"Daily Prophet came in," he heard his father say. "Said what I expected it to say. Death Eaters attacked Diagon Alley, targeting young Muggle-born children and trying to scare them out of going to Hogwarts. It's awful."

"It is awful," Remus' mother breathed. "I remember learning that magic existed. I was in my thirties, not an impressionable young child. I wasn't exposed to it in the best way… saw a Boggart, remember? Those aren't a very good introduction to the world of magic."

"No, they are not," chuckled Remus' dad.

"But I didn't really find out about magic until you told me. You told me in a field, surrounded by flowers while we ate a picnic. The sky was blue, and it was warm. You pulled out your wand and did some tricks for me… turned your hair green, conjured up some blue roses, and did a little light show. It was calm. Peaceful. Beautiful.

"I was exposed to magic in the best way, and then you took me to a Quidditch game… I tried Butterbeer… we went to Hogsmeade in the wintertime… you fixed my arm up when I bruised it, and you tamed my hair on bad hair days. I loved magic. I learned very early that magic was a means of fixing things."

"Right," said Remus' father in a very quiet voice.

"And then Remus was born, and that… that was magic. And then he started doing magic a year later, which was terrifying, but also wonderful. Magic was such a beautiful, chaotic, helpful, and amusing thing. But…"

Remus knew what was coming next, and he briefly considered stuffing his head under the pillow. There was always a "but", and it was always the same "but".

"But when Remus was bitten," Remus' mother continued, "it wasn't the same. You had used to be someone who could fix anything with a wave of your wand, and now you were unable to fix this one thing… the most important thing. That was when I learned that there was a dark side to magic. Just as magic had been more wonderful than I ever could have imagined, it was also more terrible. It simply… transcended imagination, in all the best and worst ways."

"I know," said Remus' father, and his voice was so quiet that Remus could hardly hear it.

"If I hadn't been around for a few years before Remus was bitten," Remus' mother said, "if I hadn't seen that Quidditch game, if I hadn't seen you do all those wonderful things with magic, if you hadn't healed me and turned your hair green… I think I'd've been afraid of magic for the rest of my life. Honestly, Lyall? I love you with all my heart and I always have, but if Remus hadn't survived… I might have even left you to get away from it. That's how terrified I'd be of magic."

"I don't blame you," said Remus' father after a moment's thought.

"The Quidditch game was thrilling, and the magical world never ceases to amaze me. Magic can do all those good things… but it also left my four-year-old son in a critical state, cursed for the rest of his life, robbed of his childhood and future, constantly terrified and in pain, depressed and hated by society. It left almost an entire town dead, including John Questus—who was a highly-accomplished Auror, so he should have been able to stop it, and a near-family member, so I never stop thinking about it. It scares and scars innocent children, its Ministry is horribly run, and ultimately, its horrors tend to outshine its uses, don't they?"

"That's why John Questus gave it up a couple of months before his death," said Remus' father. "Remember? Moral and religious reasons."

"Yes… seems to me that giving it up is sometimes the sensible thing if it gets a person away from… all of this. And that's exactly what the Muggle-born students will think. All those incoming first-years, who only just learned that magic existed and got attacked while picking up their school supplies? They'll figure it isn't worth it."

"And then the Death Eaters will have come a few steps closer to completing their agenda of blood purity," said Remus' father. "They hate Muggles, they hate blood traitors, they hate Muggle-born witches and wizards…"

"And they hate werewolves."

"So do the Ministry," said Remus' father, shaking his head. "Poor Remus is caught between a Chimaera and a dragon. There's just no way to win."

Remus heard his mother shift in her chair. "I don't know," she mused, "I'd say that his friendship and happiness is a success in and of itself. I've been terrified of magic lately, Lyall, I'm not going to lie. It's hard when you're surrounded by it and can't do it yourself. I feel targeted, helpless, and weak. But… there's always a sunny side. You just have to get past the clouds—even if those clouds involve your son and his friends running into the thick of a fight just for fun."

"My wife, the philosopher," Remus heard his father say, and then there was silence.

Remus burrowed under his blankets as far as possible and tried to sleep. He didn't fancy himself much of an optimist, but he also didn't fancy himself as a fearful person (most of the time. He was a Gryffindor, after all). He would quell his fear. He would try not to worry. He would take it day by day, and of course his friends would make that a lot easier.

Making the best of life seemed a very human thing to do, after all—and although Remus wasn't technically human, he basically was.