Remus' friends weren't at Potions that afternoon, which was mildly concerning. They were known to skive every so often, yes, but they usually told Remus beforehand (call James and Sirius unobservant, call Peter a bit stupid, but all of them knew that they were Remus' best and only friends).

But Remus didn't worry too much. They weren't making a potion today, only taking notes, so the fact that Remus' partner (Peter) was missing was a non-issue. Remus left Potions with a slight skip in his step, feeling somewhat rejuvenated after his exciting excursion with Professor McGonagall.

Upon returning to the dormitory, however, he was met with his less-than-happy friends. "Remus John Lupin," said James, arms crossed and face pulled into a frown, "what in the name of Merlin's best pair of pants were you doing?"

"What do you mean? I was in Potions."

"Before that! During Transfiguration! We were worried!"

"You were worried?"

"Of course we were worried! You stayed after with Sal to fight the Boggart, and then you never came back! We thought he'd killed you or something!"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Remus, desperately afraid that they'd somehow figured out Manard's true character. "You like Professor Manard."

"Yeah, but that doesn't change the fact that he was a werewolf hunter once! Old habits die hard."

"Killing werewolves is not a habit. It's not like someone accidentally sticks a knife into a murderous creature on pure routine." Remus made a face. "Not again, Linda! We talked about this! Stop going out on the full moon and killing nearly-indestructible creatures!"

"You're not taking this seriously," snapped James.

"Is that a bad thing? You never take things seriously."

"Not the point. The point is, Minerva sent us to Sal's classroom to fetch you, and he said you weren't there! We thought the Boggart had finally sent you over the edge or something. We thought you'd seen something really disturbing. But Sal said that he didn't think it had bothered you that much—he said that the Boggart was a just a full moon, which was precisely what you'd expected, and he said you had no problems in magicking it away."

"That's all true."

"So we went back to Minerva's classroom, and she looked worried! Minerva never looks worried!"

"So then all of us were worried, too," said Peter. "And Minerva left to find you. Ten minutes later, Argus Filch waltzed into the classroom and watched us do our worksheet!"

"That must have been weird."

James sighed, frustrated. "Yes, but that's not the point!"

"You said it was the point."

"No I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You said, 'The point is, Minerva sent us to Sal's classroom to fetch you, and he said you weren't there.' You said that was the point."

"Well, I misspoke. It happens. That isn't the point. The point is that, when she didn't come back to class—"

"And you know Minerva, she never misses a class," added Sirius.

"—then we were worried! We thought something terrible had happened to you!"

"Like what?"

"I don't know! But you've got to admit, the fact that you were supposedly upset and then disappeared was a huge problem!"

Remus sighed, frustrated. "You three skive all the time, but it's a problem when I do it? You know, everyone tells me that I'll get the same treatment and opportunities as the other students, regardless of my species, but I'm sensing some double standards."

"It's not because you're a werewolf, you berk," said Sirius. "It's because you're an annoying goody-two-shoes who goes into full panic-mode whenever you get a detention. You were a shaking mess last year when we were called to Albus' office, remember? And now you couldn't care one way or another."

"Double standards can be healthy," said James. "When someone acts according to someone else's norm, then there's something wrong. Easy as that."

"Okay, fine," said Remus, shaking his head. "Fine. I wasn't feeling well. I was a little bit down, so I came back here. Professor McGonagall found me, and we went on a whitewater boating tour in Peru."

Remus looked at his friends' faces, which were more awestruck than Remus had ever seen them. "You're joking," said James flatly.

"Not joking. You can even ask her."

"Well, I won't be doing that," said James, "because Minerva McGonagall scares me. But, er… is everything okay now?"

"Everything is great," Remus responded. "In fact, if you have time, I'd like to do the next item on the list. You should be good at this one."

He handed the list to James, who looked at the penultimate item—something stupid—and sighed. "Very funny," he said.

"I think you've already completed this one," grumbled Sirius. "Skiving Transfiguration was stupid, even though you didn't end up getting chewed out."

"I got chewed out a little," said Remus. "I mean, she pitied me and all that nonsense, which in my opinion was worse."

"Not for most people."

"Anyway, it doesn't count, because I have to do them in order. I skived before I did the unexpected thing, so it doesn't count at all."

"I would say that skiving is both stupid and unexpected."

"But that's not the point," said Remus, suddenly more motivated than he'd been in weeks. "The point is to feel better again, so Madam Pomfrey wants me to be busy. Not too busy, like I was last year, but apparently there's a happy medium."

"I suppose so."

"So," said Remus, smiling widely, "I need ideas. Something stupid. Help me out."

"Is it really stupid if it's planned?" James mused.

"Yes. Things can be both planned and stupid. Like your Animagus thing."

"Oi. You're helping with that now, you know. You promised."

"Against my better judgement." The pit of Remus' stomach was beginning to fill with rocks again, and he figured he'd better start thinking about something else. "Let's… swim in the Black Lake."

"That's not stupid," said Sirius. "That's normal. Think bigger."

"Okay. Let's… sneak into McGonagall's office."

"We've already done that. And Madam Pomfrey could give us detention for that."

Remus frowned as something nagged at the back of his memory. "You're right. We need to do something that is stupid, but isn't against the rules. Like… OH!"

"Do you have an idea?" asked Peter eagerly.

"No! Agh! I have a detention with Dumbledore!"

"When?"

"Thirty minutes ago! I have to go!"

Remus smoothed down his hair, gathered his things in his satchel, and then ran in the direction of Dumbledore's office.

Vaguely, he wondered if this counted as "something stupid".

"Come in," said Dumbledore calmly, and Remus opened the door.

"I am so sorry, Professor," he panted. "I completely forgot. It was a really long day. I fought a Boggart, and then I skived Transfiguration—I probably shouldn't have told you that—and then I went to Peru and rode a really big fish named Nessy, and then my friends were angry with me and we were arguing, and I forgot. But I'm only… thirty-six minutes late. For such an eventful day, that's not too bad. I tried."

Dumbledore smiled. "Believe it or not," he said, "I am happy to see you forget about your detention. It means you were busy with other things. That's a very good thing, Remus."

"I'm still sorry."

"I know. Now that you're here, however, I'd like to begin."

Dumbledore stared at Remus for a moment, who stared back. So much for begin. Did Dumbledore expect him to do something? Remus wasn't sure. He swung his legs impatiently, but there was no response for a good minute or so. "Er, okay," Remus finally said.

"Remus," said Dumbledore finally, blue eyes boring into hazel, "how are you doing?"

"Fine. Better than fine, at the moment." He paused and thought about that. "You know what? I'm feeling okay, Professor."

"I am very glad to hear that. Madam Pomfrey tells me that you originally did not want to serve your detention with me."

"Oh, er… yeah. Not because I don't like you. Just because I… I dunno. I didn't want to talk about things, and I knew you would make me. But I genuinely don't need to talk now. I'm feeling so much better than I was."

"I am very glad to hear that. However, as a headmaster who is determined to respect his students' wishes, I have already made arrangements for you to serve detention with someone else."

A heavy stone dropped to the pit of Remus' stomach. "Who?" he asked quietly.

"Professor Manard has very kindly volunteered. Would that be all right?"

No. The word popped into Remus' head, and he was horribly tempted to say it… but it would be suspicious, wouldn't it? Dumbledore was staring at Remus, waiting for an answer, and Remus knew for a fact that an answer such as no would surely breed all kinds of suspicion.

"Yes," said Remus, even though every fiber of his being screamed at him to say the opposite. "That's fine."

"Are you certain? You mentioned earlier that you're still slightly uncomfortable around him."

"It's getting better. I'm fine. Everything is okay."

"Wonderful. You may proceed to his classroom, and from there he'll give you your next instruction."

"It doesn't bother me," said Remus, "but I'm curious… why him?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Because of John Questus," he said. "I'm sure you're aware that he wasn't entirely accepting of werewolves when he was your first-year Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in your first year, Remus. But as time went on, as he realized that his prejudices were entirely incorrect, and as you got more and more comfortable with him, the two of you formed... a friendship, albeit the oddest one I have ever seen."

"You think I'm going to be friends with Professor Manard," said Remus, trying his best not to laugh. It wasn't funny.

"No, I don't. I think the two of you are similar in a lot of ways—"

"What?" asked Remus in unintended alarm. "How are we similar?"

"Well, you're both talented teachers, for one thing. You cannot deny that Professor Manard is excellent at teaching. I expect Hogwarts' performance in Defense Against the Dark Arts to be far better this year than it has been in the past. And you are a talented teacher too, Remus. Peter Pettigrew is doing better in his classes thanks to you, and Miles Rosenblum flourished under your tutelage last year."

"How is he doing now?"

"Very well. If his marks ever slip below passing, I shall certainly let you know so that you may set him back on track. Anyway, you and Professor Manard are also very similar in the sense that you are determined to overcome ingrained prejudice…."

"Yeah, right," said Remus. Upon realizing that he'd just been sarcastic—too sarcastic—he smiled and nodded, trying his best not to look suspicious. "Yeah. Right," he repeated, far less sarcastically.

Dumbledore blinked at him once, slowly, and then continued speaking. "And then there's your stubbornness. Both of you deal with constant pain, yet are determined to behave and carry on as if you were not. The amount of willpower you both possess is impressive."

"Hm."

"What's more, you are both extremely skilled at empathy. Both of you are able to know exactly what another person is feeling, even if it is not something you experience yourselves."

In the wrong hands, though, Remus thought, thinking of all the times Manard had managed to exploit something that Remus himself didn't even know he was feeling. Yes, Manard was empathetic, but empathetic and nice were two entirely separate things. Empathy, at times, could be dangerous.

"Hm," he said.

"The two of you are similar," repeated Dumbledore, "and I am a firm believer that similar people can help each other become so much more than they already are, just like you and John Questus have helped each other. But, Remus, if you are uncomfortable, then of course you may stay in here with me."

"I'm not uncomfortable," said Remus quickly.

"Wonderful. He's waiting in his office right now. Farewell, Remus, and I hope you have a very productive evening."

"I'm sure I will, sir," said Remus.

Keeping the sarcasm out of his voice was possibly the biggest challenge of the day, whitewater boat tour included; Remus decided that next time he saw a dam holding back hundreds of gallons of water, he would thank it, because now he knew exactly how it felt.

Remus arrived in front of Manard's classroom, took a deep breath, and knocked.

"Door's open," said Manard, and Remus took another deep breath before entering.

"Evening," he muttered.

Manard smiled. "You're late."

"I… got caught up. Busy. Lots to do."

"I hope you were busy with homework. You haven't done any homework for me in weeks. Keep this up and you'll fail."

"If you were going to fail me, you'd fail me regardless of if I did my homework or not," Remus blurted.

Silence, and then Manard laughed. "That's a fair assessment," he said. "Have a seat. I don't plan to keep you long."

Wonderful. Brilliant. The less time, the better.

"What am I to do, sir?" Remus asked, teeth gritted.

"Just sit there. It won't take long."

Heart racing, Remus stared at Manard, who was currently placing a Soundproofing Charm on the room. Once he was finished, he looked down at Remus and said, "Oh, and close your eyes. Just for a moment, I promise."

Remus hesitated for about ten seconds before finally closing his eyes.

Nothing happened.

He heard rustling. Robes moving. A wand being drawn. He heard even, unmarred breathing. He heard the birds chirping. Students talking in the Great Hall. A sharp intake of breath, and then a sound as of a wand moving through the—

Pain.

Nails sticking into Remus' every nerve, white-hot tendrils lacing his bones, unbearable, intangible, unthinkable—this was so much worse than a full moon; Remus' bones were not breaking, but they hurt terribly nonetheless—oh, pain was a measly word that could not describe what Remus was feeling. There were wasps in his skin, writhing; someone was pulling out his every nerve with tweezers; the pain was burning, and it seemed to buzz in his head—how was he still conscious?

Then nothing.

Gorgeous, wonderful relief, as if the pain had never happened. Aching, but it was nothing, comparatively. And Remus was kneeling on the floor, shaking with relief. How had he gotten here? He thought about that, and sensations began flooding back. He became aware of the stone beneath his knees first, and then the air in his nostrils; and then, finally, he became aware of Manard's icy stare.

Manard was smiling. Just like always.

Disturbing.

"I think I hate you even more than I thought I did," said Manard pensively, "because I've never managed a nonverbal Unforgivable before. Thank you for that small revelation, Remus Lupin."

Taken aback, Remus stared. "That was the Cruciatus?" he said, climbing to his feet, ignoring the pinpricks. Being eye-level with Manard made him feel much braver.

"Don't tell me you've never experienced it before."

"I mean… there were some teenage boys in the park when I was younger. They knew what I was, somehow, and they were… experimenting, I guess. But it wasn't that bad, back then."

"I do like to think that I can cast it significantly better than an inexperienced teenager can," said Manard. "I've had very little practice, of course, but I have had some. Sometimes the Cruciatus is the most effective option."

"Effective?" cried Remus. "I don't even know what you want from me! How was that effective? If you want me to do something, then perhaps you should start with politely asking me to do it!"

"Oh, I should have thought of that! Very reasonable of you." Manard took a few steps toward Remus—clack, clack—and looked him directly in the eyes, only about a foot away. "I want you to leave Hogwarts," he said. "Please?"

Remus clenched his hands.

"Polite enough for you?" Manard asked.

Manard was twisting Remus' words, but two could play at this game. "I'll leave Hogwarts," said Remus. "I promise I'll leave… I'll leave in only a few weeks. Just give me some time to get my things together."

Manard stared. "Really?"

"Really. I'll come back after Christmas holidays have ended, of course, but I will leave. Oh! And I might leave Hogwarts this weekend to go to Hogsmeade, too. We'll see how busy I am. And guess what? In four years, I'll have already been gone permanently!"

There was a moment of silence, and then Manard said, "Are you stupid, Remus? I just used a torture curse on you. Isn't that enough to stem the snark, at the very least?"

But Remus was feeling braver now; energized from injustice. "I could tell Professor Dumbledore that you used an illegal curse against me, Professor. You would be sacked, and you might be arrested by the Ministry…"

"And I could tell them that you threatened me," hissed Manard. "You wouldn't be quite so lucky. They can't house a werewolf in Azkaban, and they're looking for excuses to kill you anyway. One misstep, and it's a nice clean execution for you."

"Maybe it's worth dying to get you away from Hogwarts."

"Why? I'm not harming anyone else. I'm helping everyone else." Manard smiled. "I'm sorry, Remus, but you're stuck between a rock and a hard place. You cannot do anything—not a single thing—to be rid of me. You are completely and utterly helpless…."

Something stupid, Remus told himself. No. He would not let Manard make him feel that way. He would look forward to the future instead of dwelling on the present. He had something stupid to look forward to, whatever it was.

"You missed the homework that I assigned," said Manard in a taunting voice so quiet that it was nearly a whisper. "They're preparing for a werewolf lesson next class with an essay all about werewolves, and I do hope I'll see you in class on Monday. I'd better."

An idea started to form.

"You will, Professor," said Remus softly, the words something stupid echoing in his brain.

"Good."

They stood there for a moment, locked in a silent battle of wits. Remus ignored his aching muscles, which were still screaming from the aftermath of the Cruciatus Curse. Neither Remus nor Manard blinked for a long time.

Suddenly, Manard took a step back and collapsed into a nearby chair. "That was it," he said. "That was the whole detention. I honestly just wanted to see what would happen."

"What would happen if you... tortured me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Manard sighed and turned his gaze toward the door. "Well, if you really want to know the answer, it's because yesterday was my late wife's birthday, and I've been missing her lately. Sometimes I just want to see the one who killed her in terrible pain. I thought it would make me feel better."

"I didn't kill her," said Remus, though he knew that arguing was futile.

"Close enough. You can act as a stand-in until I find Greyback." Manard shrugged and waved Remus away. "Consider my curiosity satiated—and get out of my classroom."

Remus turned and left. All the while, though, he could not stop thinking about Dumbledore's words.

Were he and Professor Manard really all that similar?

Well, maybe on a surface level. Remus couldn't help but wonder what he'd be like if he were evil. Would he be like Greyback, like Manard thought, or would he be like Manard himself, as Dumbledore had insinuated?

Remus considered Manard. Was the quiet amusement, dangerous empathy, and careful prodding something that Remus was capable of? If Remus wanted to hurt someone—truly wanted to hurt someone—would he do it like Manard, through strategy and mind games, or would he do it like Greyback, through overt violence and intimidation? Which was more impactful: his personality, or his nature?

It didn't matter, though. Remus was never, ever going to become evil. He was Remus, just Remus, and he was capable of good just like anyone else was. He was capable of happiness. He was capable of light.

Manard's highly illegal torture spell had not discouraged him; it had empowered him, and now Remus was determined to do whatever he could to return to his best self.

Something stupid was the next step—and if there was anything Remus' ironically-intelligent friends had taught him, it was how to be stupid.