The man returned only twenty minutes later, all smiles. "It's your turn," he said. "I'm dreadfully sorry for the wait."

Manard smiled back. "It's no problem at all. Thank you for accommodating us."

"Where are you off to?"

"Germany. Black Forest."

"Oh, that's an interesting place to visit."

"As a researcher of magical creatures, I always find the more interesting places amuse me most."

"Hats off to you, sir." The employee waved down a parrot, who dropped two small packs of dark green Floo powder in his hand. "Have a nice trip! The green grate is ahead and to your left—you can't miss it."

"You've been very helpful," said Manard, fake smile still gracing his lips. They stepped up to the green grate, and Manard handed Remus a packet. "You first, so that I can make sure you've gotten there properly. We'll arrive at a nearby hotel, but we're not checking in. Wait for me when you arrive."

"Yes, sir," said Remus. He tossed the powder into the fireplace, stepped inside, and then he kept his shoulders in and tried his best not to fidget or panic as the warm breeze engulfed him and took him away to a place that was much scarier.

Remus found himself in the lobby of a beautiful hotel. It was surely a wizarding hotel, because no one had batted an eye at Remus' sudden appearance in the fireplace. He hurriedly stepped out of the grate and waited for Manard to arrive.

Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and red plush couches adorned the waiting room. People bustled around in nice robes and expensive-looking jewelry, and Remus felt out-of-place amongst such magical folk who were very clearly substantially well-off.

Manard stepped through the grate and brushed off his robes. Even though he wasn't currently dressed as well as some of the other wizards there, his posture and perfectly groomed hair made him seem to fit right in. "Is this where we're sleeping?" Remus asked, hardly daring to hope… he knew Manard had money, but he didn't think he had this much.

"Heavens, no," said Manard with a chuckle. "This is just the nearest grate to the Black Forest. No, we're sleeping outdoors. I've brought some tents."

"Tents?!"

"Unless you'd rather sleep on the ground."

"But… but if Greyback's looking for me, that's the worst possible place I could be sleeping. What if he abducts me in the middle of the night?"

"Then one of us will know where he is. Simple."

"But…"

Manard rolled his eyes. "Remus, we're looking for Greyback. We want him to find you. Does that compute? If you keep trying to hide from him, then we're never going to find him. It's as simple as that."

Remus glared at a red couch cushion. "Fine," he whispered.

"Excellent." Manard pointed his wand at Remus, and Remus instinctively flinched; Manard smirked slightly and then placed a Warming Charm on both Remus and himself. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

Manard smiled yet another sickening smile, and Remus followed him out of the nice-looking hotel and into the gloomy forest, where the trees loomed nearly as dark and menacing as Remus' worst nightmares. The ground was slightly damp, and the smells of the forest seemed to be enhanced tenfold. Remus would have never admitted it, but he always felt far more at home in the forest than he did indoors. Everything felt much clearer out here, from the sounds to the smells to the feel of his feet on the soil.

"Bit dark out here," commented Manard. "You have good night vision, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," muttered Remus.

"Good. Let me know if I'm about to run into anything."

"Why would I do that?"

"Don't be cute. I know you want me around. You wouldn't have asked me to help you out if you'd wanted to face Greyback alone."

Remus didn't respond. Manard was right, of course, and Remus hated him for it. "Why don't you just light up your wand?"

"Killer moths."

"What?"

"Don't tell me you've never heard of killer moths. They're magical creatures native to Germany and plentiful in the Black Forest. They're attracted to magical light, and when they find the source of that light, they attack. I would have brought a lantern, but it's too heavy when I'm already struggling to walk."

Remus supposed that was fair—he didn't particularly want to carry a heavy lantern, either (though, with his superior night vision, he didn't need one). "So what's the plan?" he asked. "Are we just going to… keep walking?"

"Of course." Manard abruptly stopped in his tracks and pulled out a map. "These are all the places Greyback is said to have been seen. I've created a path that allows us to hit every single one if we travel until about ten pm tonight—Central European Time—travel from seven am to ten pm tomorrow, and then travel from seven am to five pm Sunday. We'll go back Sunday evening."

"You want to walk for fifteen hours tomorrow?"

"We'll take a few breaks. But yes, essentially. That's why I asked you to bring the Pain-Relieving Potion." Manard grinned. "And, don't tell Poppy, but I Flooed home yesterday and picked up some more at Diagon Alley. I should be fine."

"And me? I'm not going to take multiple doses in a day! Madam Pomfrey will know, and she'll kill me!"

Manard started walking again, and Remus almost had to struggle to keep up, despite Manard's cane. "Think that through, Remus. You really, honestly think that I'm going to feel bad for you? Change my ways? Decide I like you after all? Decide that I don't care that much about finding Greyback, anyway? Help you brainstorm ways to get out of trouble? You have two options: take the potion, or have a very unpleasant couple of days. I can't very well make the choice for you."

Remus did not respond; he merely stared at the trees as he passed them, wishing more than anything that he were back home in his cozy dormitory, surrounded by people whom he actually liked.

"If you pass out, I'll try not to let your head hit a rock," said Manard impassively, and Remus somehow liked him even less.

Hours passed.

Mostly, Remus and Manard walked through the forest in absolute silence, save for the crunching of leaves and sticks beneath their feet and the thumping of Manard's cane against rocks and moist soil. Every so often, they'd have a minimal conversation, usually about werewolves.

"You're certain you'd be able to smell Greyback?" asked Manard at one point, though it was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes, sir."

"From how far off?"

"I don't know, sir. It's different out here than it is in Hogwarts. There's no one around, so I think I'd be able to smell him from rather far off."

"About a mile and a half?"

"Where did you get that number?"

"That's how far off wolves can smell things."

"I'm not a wolf."

"Close enough. So what if—?"

"Stop."

Manard stopped in his tracks, so abruptly that he nearly stumbled. "What is it?"

"You were about to step into a pond. It's right in front of you."

Manard cautiously moved his cane in front of him, and it struck water. "Thank you," he said, carefully using the cane to find the dry spots. "Good thing I have you out here with me, eh?"

"Please. You're using me as bait."

"Remus, let me ask you something," said Manard. They were now out of the pond's way, but Manard was still stepping a bit more cautiously than before. "If you could die to save dozens of people, would you?"

"Yeah, probably. Are they good people?"

"Average people."

"Then yes."

"If you help me catch Greyback, you're going to save the lives of at least dozens—and your death isn't even certain. In fact, it's unlikely. So I really don't see what your problem is with being used as bait. If the bait is getting the job done, then it's ethical. Aren't you a Gryffindor? You value bravery and nobility, don't you?"

Remus didn't really know what to say to that. "I suppose you're right," he said.

"I know. Do you need another look at the map? I need to be certain we're going the right way."

"We're moving toward the waterfall?"

"Yes. That's where we'll set up camp for the night."

"Then yes. It's straight ahead about a mile."

"Thanks." In the darkness, Remus caught sight of what looked like a mocking smile. "Make sure I don't walk into any more ponds, you hear?"

"My pleasure," said Remus, although he was sure that watching Manard fall into a pond was sure to be far more pleasurable.

Remus' feet were aching beyond belief when they finally reached the waterfall, and his every joint felt like it was on fire. "I need to sit down," he said faintly.

"Not going to help me set up camp?" said Manard.

Remus merely collapsed onto a rock, massaging his calves. "Give me a minute," he panted.

"Ah, it's fine. I was joking. They're magical tents." Manard removed a small amount of liquid from his pocket, poured it onto the ground, and then two tents sprang up out of nowhere. "Liquid Tents," he said. "They'll dissolve after three days. I've brought plenty to last us the weekend."

Remus allowed himself a few more moments on the rock, and then he stood up and started re-growing his belongings and placing them inside a tent. "Your Warming Charm will hold throughout the night, right?" he asked.

"It should. If it doesn't, then you can do it yourself, can't you?"

"Not as well as you can."

Manard rolled his eyes. "Well, then be cold. I don't want you waking me up in the middle of the night unless it's Greyback, all right?"

"Okay," said Remus.

"Sweet dreams," said Manard.

Remus crawled into the tent—where he could finally, finally be alone—and changed out of his sweaty robes. It was finally quiet. Remus could hear Manard from the other tent, flipping pages idly (probably the Greyback album, Remus thought), but Remus was finally out of Manard's line of sight; out of Manard's earshot; no longer a viable conversation partner.

It was quite freeing, to be alone. They hadn't talked much, but the mere fact that they could was enough to drain Remus' social energies.

Unfortunately, it wasn't long before Remus remembered that he wasn't alone—no, the ghost of Greyback loomed in every which direction, casting large shadows that drowned out all semblance of comfort. Remus was not alone. He felt he was being watched, even though he surely was not, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

He lay on top of his pillows, pulling his blankets up to his ears. He listened to Manard flipping pages from the other tent.

What, he wondered, would Greyback do when he finally got to Remus? Would he hurt him? Torture him, like Manard had? Kidnap him? Lock him up in a cave for the rest of Remus' short life?

More importantly, where was Greyback now?

Remus tried to think of other, more pleasant things: of his friends, of Dumbledore's brightly-colored robes, of his father's crinkle-eyed smile and the feel of his mother's comb running through his hair, of James' grin, of Sirius' laugh, of the way Peter grasped Remus' hand when he was afraid or excited….

But, ultimately, Remus' thoughts always returned to Greyback's ghost.

He was not going to sleep tonight.

There were moments that night where Remus almost fell asleep—moment where he found himself in that area between wake and sleep, waiting for it to progress to something deeper. Every time, however, he would remember where he was and jolt himself awake.

Greyback could have been anywhere, and Remus felt like he was everywhere.

The rushing water from the waterfall had a particular smell, and the noise of it filled Remus' ears. He wondered if he would even know that Greyback was there if he was twenty or thirty feet away. He could hear Manard every once in a while—he could hear him roll over and breathe deeply—but would Remus be capable of sensing someone who was trying to be quiet? Remus didn't know.

Remus prayed for daylight, even though he knew fresh horrors would accompany the day. But, no matter what he did, he could not speed the rising of the sun. And so he lay in his tent, hoping for sleep to come, yet it never did… and then he heard a noise.

Snapping twigs.

It wasn't Manard, because Remus could still hear him breathing from within his tent. Was it Greyback? Did he have a charm, somehow, that lessened his scent?

Remus shot up bolt upright and crawled out of the tent. He didn't see a thing…

Snap. Snap. Snap-snap.

There it was again! And then, from behind a tree… Remus was certain he'd caught sight of Greyback's face. No. Please, no. He wandered to Manard's tent and, in a moment of bravado, shook it. "Professor," he whispered. "Professor. Professor."

He heard Manard sigh from within the tent, and the front flap was unzipped. "What's wrong?" he said mockingly. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"No, I… I think Greyback is nearby."

Manard looked stunned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I saw his face, and I can hear his footsteps…."

Remus looked all around as Manard climbed out of his tent, wand in hand. "I don't see him, and his scent isn't the same, but I know he's here. Or… something is, at least."

Remus caught a flash of something from behind the tree. "There," he said. "I swear I saw him again. Behind that tree."

Manard stepped up to the tree, ever so cautiously, and then… a massive werewolf, fully transformed, burst out with saliva dripping from its jaws.

Remus jumped, but Manard merely rolled his eyes. "Don't fall for this again," he told Remus. "Riddikulus."

The creature did not change, and Manard swore and jumped away.

"It has a scent," said Remus. "I don't think it's Greyback, but… it's real."

The creature growled softly, and Remus inhaled. "It's a real wolf, I think. Look at the snout shape and the tail."

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw Manard nod slowly. "Yes, I just noticed that, too," he said. "Can you speak to it?"

"Can I… what?"

"Well, you know, you're both wolves. Can't you tell it something? Is it sensing that you're one of its own?"

"Professor, wolves and werewolves aren't even close to the same species!"

"Just checking. Hm… true wolves are typically gentle, but this one looks a bit agitated."

"Probably because you just brandished your wand at it and shouted Riddikulus."

"Shut up. On the count of three, we'll both Stun it, just to be safe. All right?"

"Fine." Remus drew his wand and prepared himself to cast the spell… and then, in the blink of an eye, the wolf was upon him.

Teeth, fur, saliva, claws… broken glass… blood and… rainwater… and the soft forest ground and… the Shrieking Shack. Remus was curled into a fetal position, trying to protect his neck, and his hands felt like they were going to fall off, and… Remus' father was saying something about silver, and Remus' mother was crying, and….

The wolf collapsed onto Remus, limp, and Remus hurriedly pushed it off of him. It was heavy, and Remus' labored breathing wasn't helping. "What took you so long?" he scolded Manard. "Enjoying the show, were you?"

Manard huffed. "I was perfectly prompt. It only felt longer to you because you were being attacked by a wolf, obviously. I wouldn't risk your death—you're too useful."

Remus looked down at his hands. "I'm bleeding," he said.

"Yes, I'm aware. Sit there for a moment. I'll get a lantern and some Dittany."

Daylight was emerging, but Remus supposed it wasn't enough yet for Manard's human eyes. He waited, watching the blood drip from his torn hands. It wasn't that bad, really, but the shock of being attacked by another wolf was still running through Remus' head.

Manard sat next to Remus, put the lantern in front of them, and gestured.

"What?" asked Remus.

"Your hand. Give me your hand… wait." Manard pointed his wand at the limp wolf. "Avada Kedavra," he said.

Remus looked up at Manard, shocked. "You killed it," he said.

"Of course. It was just going to wake up otherwise and attack us again."

"But… you… used an Unforgivable!"

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"It was just behaving as all wolves do!"

"Obviously, and it was going to do it again—which is why I needed to kill it. Hold out your hand. Left first."

Remus stared at the wolf's body. "I can't believe you did that," he whispered as Manard started to drip Dittany on his hand. "Wolves are peaceful most of the time. It wasn't an evil creature… it was just a wolf who acted as expected when provoked. It probably had a family."

"A creature that is peaceful most of the time is violent some of the time," said Manard. "The wolf posed a risk, so I killed it. I'm not sure why you're complaining. It tried to kill you. Where's your sense of self-preservation—your sense of revenge?"

Remus was beginning to see a parallel. "I'm not you," he said. "I don't need revenge on a creature who has done nothing wrong. I don't believe that a mostly-peaceful creature deserves death… and I'm not going to hurt anyone else in pursuit of revenge."

"Oh? Not even Greyback?" Manard sneered, and Remus flinched at his tightening grip on his hands. "You know, Greyback only murders people sometimes. His time spent not murdering people exceeds his time spent actively murdering. Why does Greyback deserve punishment? And if he does, why don't you? Why didn't the wolf? Where do you draw the line, Remus Lupin?"

Remus paused. Yes, he wanted Greyback to die. He wanted Greyback to suffer in all the worst ways, and he knew that he wouldn't feel an ounce of sympathy if any of that were to happen. Where did Remus draw the line? The wolf had essentially done the same thing to him as Greyback had, except without prior murderous intent.

"I don't know," said Remus truthfully, "but I know that there is a line, and I'm not going to cross it."

"Well, if you can't define the line for me, then you can't expect me to toe it. Other hand, please."

Remus held out his other hand, and Manard frowned. "Damn."

"What?"

"You scratched me."

"I did?"

"Not on purpose, obviously. That's not going to heal, is it?"

Remus peered at Manard's hand. "That'll fade almost completely. It's not even as bad as a papercut."

"I know, but I'd rather not have a permanent reminder of you on my skin. I intend to forget about you completely as soon as we catch Greyback. And… talking of Greyback, the sun is out. What do you say we keep walking?"

Remus looked down at his newly-healed hands, which Manard had bandaged for good measure, as Dittany-repaired skin was more sensitive for a while. "I don't suppose we have a choice," said Remus sadly.

He packed his things, gazing at the wolf's body every once in a while. He couldn't help feeling guilty, and he almost wished the wolf really had been Greyback—if it had been, at least then he'd be done with this trip by now, one way or another.