Remus' friends came bounding into the room, waking Remus up immediately. "Please be quieter," he muttered. "Exhausted. Trying to sleep."

"Why didn't you tell Alex that you were a werewolf?" blurted James.

"Alex…?"

"Alexander Adamson, obviously. He told us that his friends call him Alex."

Remus looked at his watch sleepily. It was two in the morning. "Were you in there talking to him the whole time?"

"No, but he stayed until midnight answering questions, and then he signed my book!"

"He… signed your book?"

"Yeah!" James pulled out Adamson's first book—titled Werewolves: A Study—and showed Remus the first page. Sure enough, there was Adamson's signature, bright and bold, and underneath it was a message. Remus squinted to see it.

I wish the best of luck to you and your friend.

"Your… friend?" Remus repeated.

James pulled the book away. "Oh. I forgot that was in there."

"Who's the friend Adamson is talking about, Prongs?"

"Er… it's Sirius. It was… about exams."

"No, because Peter was there too. He would have written friends, plural. Who is the friend, singular?"

James rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. "So, we sort of told him that we had a friend who was a werewolf."

Remus groaned. "James! Does he know there's a werewolf at Hogwarts? He'll never let it go if he does!"

"No, we told him that you lived near my house and that we were childhood friends. He didn't ask many questions. Said that it was none of his business."

"Good." Remus turned over in bed and pulled the covers over his head. "I don't know why you told him that, and I'm not sure I want to know. Good night."

"It wasn't anything bad!" said Peter. "We just asked him how we could help you!"

Hesitantly, Remus pulled the covers back down and turned toward Peter. "What did he say?"

"He just told us to treat you normally. We told him that wasn't a problem, since we'd been friends with you for ages."

Remus snorted. "Maybe not with you, Wormtail, but it's definitely a problem with Prongs."

"What?" said James. "I treat you normally!"

"You treat me like something that could break at any minute."

"I do not! I get worried about you sometimes, but you can't tell me it's not warranted. What am I supposed to do, just watch you hurt yourself?"

Remus rolled his eyes. He was far too sleepy to form an argument. "What did Adamson say next, Peter?" he asked instead.

"He said that talking quietly is always a good idea…"

"But unfortunately, we're incapable of that," James interrupted. "He also said that we shouldn't shy away from asking questions, but also that we shouldn't be overly interested."

Remus shut his eyes. "Ask whatever you want. I don't care."

"Oh, cool," said James. "In that case, who bit you?"

Remus' eyes flew back open, and he stared at the top of his four-poster with such intensity that his head began to hurt. "I don't know," he said shortly. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It came through my window. It didn't stop to chat."

"Yeah, Alex did tell us to be careful with that question," said James. "He said that, even though full moons are far more unpleasant, the initial bite is often more traumatizing. You've only gone through it once, so you can't come to terms with it the same way."

"I've come to terms with it." Remus felt a little prickly all over, and he couldn't tell whether he wanted to cry, strangle James, or just go to sleep. "I'm not traumatized. And you're not being very careful with that question, now are you?"

"You told me I could ask anything. Oh, and he also told us that we should keep the lights low near full moons and that we should let you nap whenever you want to. And we shouldn't run around too much or be too loud or… oh, did I already say that?"

"You're not going to do any of that," said Remus.

"You're right. But that's why you like us, isn't it? We treat you normally."

"Yeah." Remus yawned. "How many people stayed afterward to ask questions?"

"A good few. There were about six students. Some just wanted to debate, and Alex destroyed them—I don't think he changed their minds, though. Poppy asked a couple questions, and so did Louis and Filius. Sal asked a lot. Moony, it really does seem like he's arguing against werewolf rights…."

"He's playing devil's advocate. Just because he wants to hear Adamson's responses to certain questions doesn't mean he disagrees. And besides, he told us in class today that he doubts Adamson's methods, which is fair and has nothing to do with werewolves themselves."

James held his hands up. "Fine, fine. He just confuses me is all."

"I really hope none of the professors made Adamson suspect that there was a werewolf at Hogwarts."

"There was no way he suspected. Trust me."

"Hm. Okay." Remus yawned again, this time so widely that he felt a sharp pain in his jaw. "I'm going to sleep now. Please be quiet. The full moon's coming up and I don't want to be woefully sleep-deprived as well as sore."

"No," said James, and the three Marauders—and, after a few reluctant minutes, all four—engaged in a loud pillow fight until a Prefect came to shut them down.

Predictably, the students of Hogwarts would not stop talking about Alexander Adamson.

It seemed that most disagreed with his stances, but Remus did hear a couple of students who had either been pushed toward the middle or were fully convinced of werewolves' humanity. For a while, those conversations were enough to give him strength to listen to the other conversations—ones that deemed werewolves as awful, horrible creatures undeserving of any kind of goodwill whatsoever.

Eventually, Snape spoke up, and (to his own misfortune) he did so directly next to the Marauders whilst sitting outside in the abnormally pleasant November weather. He didn't seem to know they were there, so engrossed was he in his conversation with Evans and some Slytherin friends. "Dark magic has an effect on people is all," Snape was saying. "Werewolves can't be both good and totally inundated with Dark magic. It's just not possible."

"You would know all about Dark magic," Evans grumbled. "I really don't like that spell you've been working on."

"That spell is not Dark magic. Well, technically it is, but… it's a weapon. For the war. Nothing more."

"It'll be a weapon for both sides if you're not careful!"

"That's why I'm being so careful."

"And what would be the issue if You-Know-Who won, really?" one of Snape's friends said. "I mean, he only wants hierarchy, and hierarchy is a good thing. He wants to bring us out of secrecy, too. We're a lot more powerful than Muggles, so I don't see why we're still hiding—we might as well rule over them."

Remus looked over, and he saw Evans' mouth fall open. "My parents are Muggles, and You-Know-Who wants to kill Muggle-borns like me! How could you say such a thing?"

"Look, I'm only saying that what the Ministry is doing right now isn't working. You just saw it! Wizards who support You-Know-Who don't like it, obviously, but wizards who don't support him—like Adamson—also don't like what the Ministry is doing! Obviously, we need a reform. If You-Know-Who isn't the top of the tower… well, at least he's a step in a different direction, which is exactly what we need."

"He hates Muggles," said Evans stubbornly, "and therefore I hate him."

Snape shrugged. "That's your choice, Lily. But I don't see how anybody could like werewolves. They're disgusting creatures."

"I don't know, I sort of think—"

Unfortunately, Remus never got to find out what Evans thought, because Snape's words made James whirl around toward him faster than the speed of light itself. Remus hadn't been aware that James had been listening to the conversation—his excellent werewolf senses had led him to assume that he was the only one who could hear it—but it seemed like he had. "The lot of you," he hissed, marching over to the table with Snape and his friends, "are the equivalent of a moldy Cockroach Cluster wrapped in distilled Skele-Gro. You support the Dark Arts! You just admitted it!"

One of them rolled his eyes, and Remus watched in horror. "Oh, please. We've heard what you've said to Craff and Manard, Potter. You support werewolves, don't you? Just like your father and his wonky social justice schemes! So we're not the only ones who support the Dark Arts."

"Werewolves are people with curses, not people who curse others!"

"Well, they quite literally do curse others."

"They don't all do that!"

"Yes, and not all Dark wizards curse others. Some just want a better future."

"Leave us alone, Potter," Snape mumbled. "You don't understand nuance."

"That's rich of you! Either werewolves are good or bad, you say, and then you accuse me of not understanding nuance! I understand nuance!"

Evans' eyes flashed. "Doesn't seem like you do. They have some… good arguments."

"You don't believe that!"

"I most certainly do!"

"You don't think Purebloods should rule over Muggle-borns, Evans. I know you don't. And, as for you, Snivellus, I think you need a good hexing to set you straight!"

James raised his wand. For a moment, Remus considered shouting at him, or perhaps going over to stop him… James wouldn't dare shoot any sort of hex with Remus in the splash zone. But… well, Remus thought Snape deserved James' wrath far more than James deserved Remus'.

Remus glanced at Sirius, who was watching with great interest and standing up to join the fight himself. He glanced at Peter, who was smiling a little and looking at James with admiring eyes. He glanced at the rest of the student body, who looked a little excited to see what was going to happen.

Remus stood up and left. He didn't want to see this.

He walked across the brown grass, shivering slightly as a cool breeze blew. He walked through the heavy front doors at Hogwarts' entrance. He walked up and down a multitude of moving staircases, focusing on the burn in his thighs instead of the burning of his heart. He was so tired of all this werewolf talk, and he was so tired of the war.

He found himself in front of Dumbledore's office, and he took a deep breath. He knew what the password was—Dumbledore had given him a hint during Adamson's talk. "Chocolate Frog," he said, and the gargoyles moved aside to permit him entry.

Remus knocked on the door, and Dumbledore was there in no time at all. "Good morning, Remus. What can I do for you?"

"Everybody's talking," said Remus breathlessly. Dumbledore's office smelled strongly of chocolate. "Everybody's… arguing and wondering and… asking questions and… talking. I'm really tired of listening to them talk about werewolves. May I… hide for a moment, Professor?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Of course. Do come in. I've just made hot cocoa."

Remus once again wondered if Dumbledore was omniscient as the smell of cocoa grew stronger, filling his nostrils with all the comfort of a thousand hugs. He wasn't always in the mood for hot cocoa—it was very sweet—but today, he wanted nothing more. How had Dumbledore known to make extra? How had he known that Remus would want any?

"Thank you, sir," he mumbled, sitting down and accepting a steaming mug from Dumbledore. "I'm sorry about this."

"Sorry about asking for help? Why?"

"Sorry for wasting your time, for not being able to deal with something so mundane, for being so sensitive and pitiful…"

"Remus," said Dumbledore, pouring himself a mug of his own. "You may not be human, but… well, you're only human."

Remus mulled that over, staring at the steam swirling from his cup. "I'm just tired of hearing about werewolves."

"Honestly, so am I. Let's talk about something else, shall we?"

"Like what, sir?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Why don't you choose?"

Remus grasped for a new conversation topic, but he came up empty every time. He could talk about his Arithmancy project… no, that had to do with werewolves. He could talk about his friends… but how, without mentioning what they'd done for him and how they treated him? He could talk about his classes… without discussing how little homework he'd been doing lately? Impossible.

Anything Remus thought of was tied to his lycanthropy, and he started wondering if he was anything—anything at all—without it. He began to hyperventilate slightly, eyes still fixed on the cup.

"Remus," said Dumbledore gently.

"Professor, I can't… I'm sorry, but I can't…"

"Remus."

"I'm trying, but anything I think of…"

"Remus. Take a deep breath. Listen to me."

Remus fell silent and lifted his eyes from the cup. "Yes, sir?"

"Tell me about what happened to your tie."

Remus looked at his tie, which was slightly charred on the edges. Ever so slowly, he smiled, and then he took a sip of his hot cocoa with relatively steady hands. "James and Sirius were playing catch with a newt. Turns out it wasn't actually a newt—it was a baby Salamander. Sirius accidentally missed, and it fell onto my tie and promptly caught fire. James tried to get it off of me, but he was too scared to touch it, so he doused both me and the Salamander in water before carrying it back outdoors."

Remus took another sip, relishing in the silence for a while. There were no students here to talk about how evil werewolves were. There was only Remus and his own thoughts, which were usually a bit more predictable than the thoughts of random Hogwarts students.

"Professor," he said slowly, "do you think I'm anything apart from my lycanthropy?"

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked, even though Remus was pretty sure he already knew.

"I can't think of anything without also thinking of the lycanthropy. Whenever I tell someone about my life—even if it's a small thing that has hardly anything to do with werewolves—I know I'm leaving things out. There's nothing I can talk about without thinking about how the lycanthropy affects me, and there's nothing about me that the lycanthropy doesn't affect. I was bitten when I was very young. Am I my own person, or am I nothing more than a textbook werewolf?"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and looked directly into Remus' eyes; immediately, Remus looked away and started staring into his mug again.

"I think you already know the answer to that question, Remus."

"Subconsciously, yes, I do. But I can't make myself believe it consciously."

"I see. Remus, I'm sorry to inform you that you are correct: your lycanthropy affects nearly every aspect of your life. It is a painful disease that is both chronic and potent. Much of your life is shaped by being an ill child with a terrible secret, and it will affect you every day for the rest of your life. But… isn't that how being human works?"

Remus stared at Dumbledore blankly, and he chuckled. "Being a person, I mean. Remus, everybody is affected by their upbringing, their parents, and their friends—even if they wish more than anything to be separated from them. Sirius doesn't wish to be like his family, but he can't deny that the way they've brought him up affects his personality today. Your personality is highly affected from your illness, yes, but that's not all there is to it—it's just a part of it, just as environment is a part of everyone's life. You still have free will. You still make your own decisions. The circumstances under which you do so, however, are different, and that's okay."

"So would someone else in my position grow to be exactly like me?"

"That question has a lot of layers, but ultimately, I believe there's more to us than our environments. You've fought the odds in many ways, and that is because of you—your spirit, your personality, and your soul. Anyone in your position would have reason to give up, to be angry at the world, to pick the easy way out and join a pack… but you, Remus, have overcome every urge that your upbringing says that you should succumb to. You are kind, loving, and patient, despite your werewolf temper and the many reasons you have to hate others. That's not lycanthropy: that's pure and simple Remus Lupin."

Remus was silent for a moment, sipping his hot cocoa and focusing on the feeling of the floor beneath his feet. "I suppose so," he said.

Dumbledore smiled. "Always hold on to that, Remus," he said. "Is there anything else you would like to ask me?"

"No, sir. May I just sit here for a moment?"

"Of course."

So Remus sat, nursing his cocoa and listening to the soft squawks of Fawkes, the scritching of Dumbledore's quill against parchment, and the beating of his own heart.

Minutes passed.

About half an hour passed.

"I think I'm ready to go back now," he said, knowing the aftermath of James and Snape's fight had probably dwindled down at this point. "Thank you very much, Professor."

"It was my pleasure. Do feel free to return if you are ever feeling overwhelmed."

"I might, sir."

Remus left and headed toward the dormitory, feeling far better suited to face the endless werewolf discussions than he had before.

Remus was reclining in bed with a book and Bufo when his friends arrived in the dormitory, breathlessly smiling and laughing. "What happened?" Remus asked suspiciously.

"Not to worry, Moony," said James grandly. "We took care of old Snivellus for you!"

"You… what?"

"Took care of him!" repeated Peter before bursting into a fit of giggles.

"Yeah, I'm gonna need more details than that."

"Well, he fought hard," said James, waving his hand around and getting into his story-telling stance.

Sirius did the same and took up the story. "He and his cronies—except Evans, what a coward—all took their wands out. It was three against four, but we knew we would prevail nonetheless."

"We let them cast the first spell," said James. "Snape cast the Jelly-Legs Jinx, which was the same charm we tried to win the duel with the last time we practiced together, Moony. We remembered what you did: movement-specific shield that bounces the spell back! He fell to the ground immediately. CRASH! BOOM! Have mercy on me, James!"

"He did not say that," said Remus with an eyeroll.

"Unfortunately, his arms were still working," said Sirius, "so he could keep shooting spells. We dodged dozen of them as he and his cronies kept trying to hex us. We went for Snape as often as possible—after all, he was a stationary target—but he kept putting up shields just in time."

"He's a talented duellist," said Remus.

"Not talented enough, because we beat him in the end! Wormtail saw a couple of professors coming, and Prongs had a genius idea! He hexed each of us with massive boils, and then we told the professors that Snape and his group had hexed us for seemingly no reason."

"Didn't you have a dozen witnesses?"

"Here's the great part," said James, "I looked at them all first, and everyone there was either a Gryffindor or a huge Quidditch fan. They all love me! So every single witness but one admitted that Snape was the one who started it all… and he did, technically! I just needed them to see it."

Sirius grinned and waved his arms madly, perhaps trying to get Remus as excited as he was. "So Snivellus will be spending every afternoon for a week and a half in detention, and we get off scot-free!"

"And he totally deserved it for what he said about you and about the war!" James said, giddy. "Everything worked out perfectly!"

"Isn't it so funny?" Peter squealed. "It's so perfect!"

Remus shrugged. "Maybe a little funny."

James clapped Remus on the back, eyes still shining with mirth. "I guess you had to be there," he said. "Trust me, Moony, we're not going to let them say things like that about you ever again."

"Right," said Remus. He returned to his book as his friends started throwing pillows at each other. He wasn't reading, but he was doing an excellent job pretending.