The next day, Remus asked Madam Pomfrey to make a couple of trips to the library for him. She did so reluctantly, reminding him that he needed to rest, that he really needed to be careful with that parchment, and that he still had homework to do. He listened to all of her reminders, and out of pure gratefulness, didn't even roll his eyes that much.

Despite his pending homework, Remus worked tirelessly on decoding the cipher, for he hadn't been so excited about something in a long time. He worked until his fingers were covered in ink and his eyes were swimming from staring at the page for so long, but he didn't mind at all.

At about five o'clock that evening, Remus looked up at Madam Pomfrey with shining eyes, surrounded by ink-covered pieces of parchment, and said, "I've solved it!"

She looked up from the letter she was composing to Remus' mother. "You have?"

"Yes! See, there's this short story that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote called 'The Adventure of the Dancing Men'. In it, Sherlock Holmes has to decipher a page with seemingly random stick figures all over it. He decodes the message through logic."

"How did he do that?"

Remus pulled out The Return of Sherlock Holmes, which he'd asked Madam Pomfrey to fetch for him in the library earlier that day. "He determines that the most common letter in the message must be an E, since E is the most common letter in the English language. He also determines that, since the letter was delivered to a woman named Elsie, that the first word of the message (which was five letters, beginning and ending with an E), must be her name. Then he had four letters with which to solve the puzzle."

"Four letters isn't a lot."

"Right, but he succeeded anyway. From there, he used a mixture of guesswork and logic to figure out the rest of the letters. Every time he figured out a word, more fell into place. Eventually, he solved the entire mystery."

Remus held up the parchment, grinning. "This parchment uses the dancing man code—the same one that Sherlock Holmes solved in the story. I can just look at the letters that Holmes solved and substitute them."

Madam Pomfrey took the parchment in her hands and stared at it for a while. "The letters seem to repeat a lot, Remus."

"Yes! They're only A's and B's, alternated. That's where this book comes into play." Remus pointed to the other book that Madam Pomfrey had gotten for him, grinning. "Common Ciphers and Codes," he said. "I skimmed it. Bacon's Cipher is in there, which is a code that spells letters with only A's and B's. I separated the letters into groups of five, and the first five letters spell 'hello'. That can't be a coincidence, so I know I'm on the right track!"

"But you haven't finished it all yet?"

"Nope." Remus set back to work, humming happily. "I'll let you know when I'm finished. This could take a while."

"You do that," she said, smiling. "I don't know who sent this parchment, but I'm glad you're having fun."

"I feel like a regular Sherlock Holmes," he said. "This is amazing. I dreamed of being just like him as a kid, you know."

"Why?"

"He had all the answers, he always found the villains, and everything was always okay in the end." Remus looked up from the cipher for a moment and shrugged. "For a kid like me, it felt like a daydream. I was in a reality where the villains were never caught at the end, because the villain was myself, and what I had was incurable. It was so easy to admire Sherlock Holmes. He was special in a good sort of way, and I was special in a bad sort of way."

"Ah, I see." Madam Pomfrey handed him a glass of water. "For what it's worth, Remus, I think you're special in a lot of good ways."

"Not enough to solve my problems. It's all right, though—I'm solving this one! The next letter is an 'R', by the way. I bet it's my name."

Madam Pomfrey smiled. "Wonderful job."

Remus kept puttering along, a jolt of excitement filling him as he filled in each letter… which slowly progressed to a persistent, aching feeling of dread.

Hello Remus was just fine. His friends didn't often call him "Remus" anymore—nowadays, it was mostly Moony. But they sometimes called him Remus, so it didn't rule them out. Remus considered the possibility of the mysterious sender being his father, since he seemed like the sort to write puzzles like that just to brighten Remus' bad day. But why would he deliver it so ominously? For fun?

It's been a long time was more concerning. So that ruled out his friends and his father. Who hadn't he seen in a long while who would write him a cipher? Remus was ashamed by how quickly his mind jumped to the deceased Professor Questus—maybe he had faked his death, maybe he was alive, maybe they would get to talk again—but no. Questus would not have faked his death, and he would not have abandoned Remus for a year and a half without even a note.

Meet me at the Shrieking Shack in one week seven pm was still more concerning. Who would want to meet with Remus in there? Who even knew about it? Dav Ragfarn, maybe? Or Susi?

Do not be late if you…

Remus searched for the letters more frantically.

Do not be late if you value…

Was this a threat?!

Do not be late if you value your l…

It couldn't be.

Do not be late if you value your life.

Remus held his breath and started decoding the next word, biting his nails.

Fenr

No.

Fenrir

Remus paused. He knew what the last word was. His heart beat within him like an erratic drum, and he was more nauseous than he'd been in hours—years, probably. This couldn't be happening.

With a resigned sort of anxiety, he decoded the last word, because he had to be sure—had to be sure beyond a shadow of a doubt—had to know—before deciding what to do. He even decoded the final letter, even though it was obvious what it was, even though there was no letter at this point that could relieve his worries. But no. It was exactly what he'd expected.

He put his quill down.

"Did you finish?" said Madam Pomfrey. "What does it say?"

Remus swallowed the lump in his throat. "It's from… my friends. They said 'Hello, Remus! It's been a long time since we had an adventure like this. I hope this will entertain you after the full moon. Happy early Christmas. PPW."

She smiled, though she looked vaguely confused. "What's PPW?"

"Padfoot, Prongs, Wormtail. Their nicknames."

"Well. That's a very nice thing they did for you. I haven't seen you so excited in a long time."

"Yeah. Really nice of them."

Remus looked down at the parchment. He'd put in spaces and added punctuation, and it only made the message more horrifying.

Hello, Remus. It's been a long time. Meet me at the Shrieking Shack in one week, 7 pm. Do not be late if you value your life.

Fenrir Greyback

Remus took the parchment, folded it many times, and stuffed it deeply into his bag. Then he rolled over and tried to ignore the frantic beating of his heart.

He was no Sherlock Holmes—he was just a terrified kid who was never, ever going to defeat his villains.

Remus didn't have many memories of Greyback, but the ones he did have were horrifying.

He remembered the feel of his blankets, cozy and warm, as the rain pattered outside. He remembered the crashing, and then he remembered the wolf—one, two, three steps toward Remus' life being ruined, immortalized in his mind forever.

The details stayed with him in flashes: the matted fur, the drool, and the human eyes. Remus remembered the feel of the claws in his skin and the teeth in his side, as anyone would—but, if he really focused, he could remember more mundane things: the way his bed had creaked under the weight of the monster, the way the broken glass had looked in the window-frame, and the way that Remus' curtains had gotten caught on one of Greyback's claws—subsequently tattered to shreds.

Greyback had come back a little while later to recruit Remus. It had been dark on Greyback's second visit, but Remus' night vision had improved since becoming a werewolf himself. He remembered Greyback's unkempt hair, and the visage of a man who was deranged but trying to keep up appearances. He remembered how Greyback's hand had felt on Remus' damaged shoulder, which was covered by his second-favorite green pajamas (his first-favorite had been destroyed during Greyback's first visit), and he remembered that Greyback had been missing a finger. He hadn't known who Greyback was at that point. Until Remus had heard the whole story from his father at age ten, he'd assumed he was a Ministry member or something of the sort.

Remus hadn't seen Greyback since then. It had been nearly ten years since they'd last met, and they hadn't talked for long. Still, Remus knew enough about Greyback to know that he most certainly did not want to see the man again. While he slept that night, visions of hulking monsters ran through his head: some of them in human form, and some of them in wolf form. Greyback's raspy voice said awful things, and each word seemed to hurt Remus physically. His hand gripped Remus' left shoulder, directly on the bite—harder, harder, until Remus felt his shoulder would pop from the pressure.

He woke up in a cold sweat, tears falling down his cheeks.

"Is everything all right?" asked Madam Pomfrey, who was already by his bed and had a wet cloth in her hands. "I didn't mean to wake you. I was only healing this wound on your arm."

"You should know by now not to touch that arm while I'm sleeping," Remus grumbled, and then he closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep.

Five minutes later, he opened his eyes again. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have said that. I was frightened and wasn't thinking straight."

Fortunately, she didn't look offended. "No need to apologize. You're right: I should have woken you up first. I wouldn't have touched it at all if it weren't for the fact that you were scratching the wound back open in your sleep."

"I should have said it more kindly."

"You were frightened and halfway asleep. Trust me, I wouldn't be the matron if I didn't have thick skin. I deal with people at their worst every day. Now lie back down and try to get some sleep."

"I don't think I can. My heart's going a mile a minute."

"Fair enough. I'll make you some tea, and you can read a book until you're tired again."

It was three-fifteen in the morning, but Remus did not go back to sleep. He stayed up all night, drinking tea and reading Sherlock Holmes stories, and Madam Pomfrey eventually collapsed into a chair and snoozed while he did so.

Remus had a huge decision to make, and he had no idea where to start.

Remus was poorly enough to stay in the Hospital Wing for a third day. At around noon, a girl entered with an injury from Quidditch practice, so Remus had some time to himself without the watchful eye of Madam Pomfrey.

He took out a clean sheet of parchment and wrote down his options, one by one, carefully weighing the pros and cons of each action.

1) Meet him.

Remus stared at that one for a while, his heart seeming to slam against his ribcage. He imagine Greyback's putrid breath on his face, his raspy whispers, his hand on Remus' left shoulder… and perhaps Remus would get kidnapped or tortured… no, it was unthinkable.

2) Tell Dumbledore.

That seemed like a viable option. If Greyback was going to come to Hogwarts, then Dumbledore might be able to stop him. Remus would go to the Shrieking Shack with Dumbledore—or perhaps Dumbledore would go alone—and he would probably be able to tie Greyback up in no time at all.

But no—the Shrieking Shack wasn't on Hogwarts grounds, so Apparition was possible. Dumbledore had charmed it so that nothing could Apparate in, but anything could Apparate out. "It's a failsafe," he'd said. "Curious townsfolk cannot enter the Shack through Apparition, but anyone accidentally trapped with you—not that something like that could ever happen—could safely Apparate out."

Greyback would smell Dumbledore coming from a long ways away, and then he would Apparate out and potentially kill Remus. After all, he'd written do not be late if you value your life. Remus wasn't sure Greyback would kill him, really, but he did worry that Greyback would go after his parents or friends.

Remus was used to being the only one around with exceptional werewolf senses, and he had to admit that someone else having them made things extremely complicated. Say what one would about Dumbledore's abilities, but Remus was terrified of disobeying Fenrir Greyback.

3) Do nothing.

Remus didn't even think twice before mentally crossing that one off the list. He didn't want to die, and he definitely didn't want to do so at the hands of Fenrir Greyback.

There were his options, then. There were some more options, of course, but they were too crazy to consider—Remus could enlist the help of his friends, but they would probably get themselves killed through pure recklessness—he could tell the Ministry of Magic, but they'd probably put him under trial for working with Greyback—he could try to set a booby trap in the Shack, but he wasn't nearly clever enough for that.

There was truly no good option.

As he was reading over his options a ninth time, he heard a familiar voice in the main ward of the Hospital Wing. "Hello, Poppy," Sal Manard said. "Is now a good time?"

"As good a time as any," he heard her quip. "What's your problem?"

"Professor Manard!" said the injured girl. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you, Kelsey," Manard said kindly. "Poppy, I've just come for more Pain-Relieving Potion. I promise I haven't been abusing it, but I'm out of stock."

Remus could almost hear her eye him suspiciously. "How much have you been taking?"

"One a day. I solemnly swear it."

"You can't go a single day without the potion?"

"Not unless you want me sobbing uncontrollably and vomiting right and left," said Manard with a smile in his voice. "I can purchase it from Hogsmeade as well, but I do figure I should take advantage of Hogwarts' resources while I am here."

"You should look into more long-term options. There are potions catered specifically for chronic pain, so you needn't take anything as strong or addictive as a standard Pain-Relieving Potion. I would recommend something applied directly to the leg—I have a Soothing Balm somewhere in my cupboard designed for twice daily use, and I hear it works wonders so long as you don't skip doses."

"I've tried the ones designed for daily use. They don't work very well."

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "I'm terribly sorry your leg is paining you that much," she said, "but I can't recommend a Pain-Relieving Potion every day. It's not healthy."

"I'm not asking you to recommend it. I'm asking you to give it to me anyway, against your better judgement."

Another sigh. "For right now, Sal. But meet me tomorrow morning—right here, at seven sharp—so that we can discuss alternative treatments."

"Fine," he echoed.

There was a moment of silence, and then the injured girl asked, "Is your leg really hurting you that badly, Professor?"

"Yes, every day. I'm very lucky it wasn't worse, though." He chuckled a bit. "A word to the wise: Do not stand in the way of an angry werewolf."

As Remus listened to the sounds of potion bottles clinking and Manard thanking Madam Pomfrey, he finally decided what he was going to do about Greyback.

"This isn't going to be pleasant, Bufo," he told the toad in his lap, and Bufo croaked in agreement.

"I'm stupid," he muttered aloud to himself, over and over again, on his way to Professor Manard's office the next day (after Madam Pomfrey had finally set him free). "I am a complete idiot, and I deserve to be locked up so that I never make a stupid mistake like this ever again."

He took step after step, considering turning back as his foot hit the ground each time. The portraits stared at him from their frames. "What's got you so worked up, boy?" a rugged-looking portrait of a wizard shouted.

"A detention, most likely," responded a portrait of a lady in long dress robes and intricately styled hair.

Remus ignored both of them and kept walking. It felt like ages before he finally reached Manard's office—there was the portrait of Merlin, snoozing happily in a deep armchair as his wine tipped out of the glass and spilled onto the floor—there was the nameplate above the door that read Defense Against the Dark Arts—Professor Salvis Manard. It was replaced every year, and there were scrape marks by the sides of the plate from all the times they'd removed it.

Remus took a deep breath that didn't seem to reach his chest, and then he knocked.

It wasn't long before Manard answered the door. "Remus," he said, smiling. "Do come in."

Remus entered, and Manard shut the door firmly behind him. As soon as the door was shut, separating them from any watchful eyes, the smile on Manard's face became less friendly and more annoyed. "What do you need?" he asked.

Remus shuffled his feet and looked at the ground. "I need help," he said, and then he added "sir" as an afterthought.

Manard looked even more annoyed. "You're going to need to be more specific than that."

Remus rapidly rethought his decision one last time, and then he pulled the parchment from his bag. "You asked me to help you track down Greyback," he said. "I said I wouldn't, because I didn't see a reason to subject myself to him needlessly. But it seems he won't leave me alone anyway, so… I'll help you if you help me."

Manard stared at the parchment. "What's this?"

"It was delivered to the Hospital Wing on the day of the full moon. I don't know how it was delivered—I didn't sense anyone at the door. There was a disembodied knock, and the parchment was there. I decoded it."

Manard took it in his hands gingerly and traced his fingers over it. "Very clever of you," he said. "Disembodied knock… hm. That is a tad creepy, isn't it?"

"Yeah, a tad."

"I wonder how he knows how to get into the Shrieking Shack."

"I was wondering about that, too. He couldn't have been watching me, because I would have noticed he was there… and he couldn't have been on Hogwarts grounds recently. I would have noticed."

"Powerful sense of smell you have."

"Fairly." Remus bit his thumbnail, considering. "The only way he could have known is if… he talked to someone who worked here. Someone gave him that information. Who would do that to me?" Remus looked at Manard and frowned. "Was it you, Professor?"

"Me? Of course not. Trust me: If I'd come across Greyback recently, then one of us would be dead."

"Well, I trust the rest of my professors."

Manard laughed. "You don't trust me? I'm offended."

Remus ignored him. "It wouldn't have been Professor Dumbledore… Professor McGonagall is out of the question… not Professor Flitwick or Professor Leek… I trust Professor Finley, Professor Kettleburn, and Professor Sprout… I don't think Professor Slughorn would have done it… I suppose it could have been Professor Sidus, but I don't think he would have done it, either."

"Someone had to do it, so at least one of those statements is wrong—or it was a student, which is very possible." Manard turned the paper over in his hands, looking closely at every crevice. "I'm amazed Greyback knows so many ciphers."

"It's two. It's hardly many."

"Still." Manard put the parchment down and looked Remus directly in the eyes. "Why did you come to me, Remus? Why didn't you go to Professor Dumbledore?"

"Well… he values my safety too much. He would be too cautious, and Greyback would end up getting away. I can't risk him going after my family. I know you don't value my safety at all, Professor, so… I think we have a chance of catching him together. Don't you?"

"If I didn't, I wouldn't have asked you to help me all those weeks ago." Manard smiled. "Of course I'll help you, Remus. Do you have a plan?"

"I… was hoping that you could come up with that part."

He laughed. "Well, there's only one option, isn't there? You meet Greyback in the Shrieking Shack. This parchment was delivered on the day of the full moon, you said?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you meet him exactly a week after—on Friday, December sixth. Today is Tuesday, so you only have a few days to worry about it."

"But… what if he kidnaps or kills me?"

"That's a risk I think you should be willing to take. I don't think he'll kill you, for what it's worth. I do think he'll kill your friends and family if you don't comply, but he won't kill you. I don't think he'll kidnap you, either; if he didn't last time you met him, he won't now. He probably just wants to chat—to see if you've changed your mind about joining him after nearly a decade. You are the one playing offense, Remus. Not him."

"But…"

"Also, you have a massive advantage now that you've told me. I know where you're going and what time. If you don't come back, I can alert Professor Dumbledore and make sure your family and friends are well-protected."

"Only after the damage is done," Remus murmured.

"Well, of course it's not safe. That doesn't mean you shouldn't do it."

Remus stared at the parchment that Manard had set aside, contemplating his fate. "I suppose you're right," he said finally. "I am a Gryffindor, after all."

"That's the spirit," said Manard with a grin. "Report back to me directly afterward and share your findings. We'll figure out where to go from there. And Remus?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Thank you for telling me. As an expert werewolf hunter, I was the best person you could have possibly gone to."

And as a werewolf, Remus thought, I'm not entirely sure I believe you.