Remus was doing all right in school, for the most part.

He wasn't a genius like James or Sirius, and he wasn't doing nearly as much homework as he'd been doing in years prior, but he was doing fine now that the cloud of depression had mostly left him.

In times like these, though, he still felt its dark tendrils in his chest, threatening to poke him where it hurt the most. There was a certain point where fear turned to apathy, and those were the points where he could feel himself slipping back into old habits—but now there was a glimmer of hope, and it was just enough to keep him afloat.

Mostly.

He stopped working on his Arithmancy project for a while, yes, because he couldn't bear more bad memories. He failed a Transfiguration quiz, but he'd never been good at Transfiguration. He turned in a Potions essay one day late, but… well, it wasn't even a very important essay, and it was only one day.

The unfortunate part of being Remus Lupin, however, was that the professors expected excellence from him. Not intelligence, no, but they did expect him to be perfectly on top of things and do his best on every assignment. That was how Old Remus Lupin had been, back when he'd been carefree and so determined to impress his professors. Back then, he'd thought that he oughtn't make a single misstep, for he owed them his excellence as thanks for going through so much on his account.

Now, he didn't care as much.

Call it apathy. Call it security. Call it distractions. Remus' poorer marks could have been for very good reasons (he finally saw himself as a person worthy of an education, non-dependent on his success) or very bad reasons (he was depressed). Whatever the reason, Remus no longer felt the need to impress all of his professors, all of the time—especially not now, when he had so much else on his plate.

The truth was, it was impossible to focus on something so mundane as Ancient Runes when Remus had was going to meet up with one of Britain's most vicious murderers in but a few days' time. He played through every possible outcome of the situation in his head, over and over, instead of paying attention in class. He pondered alternate possibilities to the upcoming meeting. He really tried to get into Greyback's head, but he saw no reason why Greyback would want to meet with him so late in Remus' life.

Predictably, his friends noticed something was wrong.

"Oi, Moony," said James one evening, "d'you want to help the rest of us with the map? Sirius is currently trying to draw the Great Hall. We're trying to get it perfectly to scale, and we could use your help."

Remus, who was currently lying in bed and staring out the window, shook his head. "No, thank you."

James frowned. "Look, Moony, we know something's wrong. Everyone's noticed."

"Nothing's wrong."

"Liar. You know, it's getting kind of annoying that you won't tell us anything, to be honest. We thought that you could finally tell us the truth when we found out your secret, but lately I've been feeling like you're lying to us almost as much as you were in first year."

"I haven't been lying."

"Liar!"

"I'm not a liar. Not anymore, anyhow, and not to you."

James sighed. "We won't push you, because I'm getting tired of pushing you. But… you need to get help."

"It's just mood swings after the full moon," said Remus. "My brain changed shape twice not even a week ago. It happens. I'll be okay."

"You'd better be. I have a Quidditch game on Saturday, you know!"

"I know," said Remus.

Saturday.

If he could only make it to Saturday without being kidnapped or killed, then everything would be okay.

Greyback's already done the worst to me, he thought. What else could possibly go wrong?

Friday.

Remus started making his way across the grass at six-thirty, under the protection of his very best Disillusionment Charm. His heart was beating so quickly he felt nauseous.

Right, left. Right, left.

As he drew closer to the Willow, he searched the ground for footprints and searched the air for the distinctive scent of Fenrir Greyback. He came up with nothing, however—not even so much as a whiff.

Right, left, right, left… stop.

The Whomping Willow's branches began to wave more violently as Remus got closer. When he was at a safe but close distance, he Levitated a stick toward the knot at the base of the tree. The branches went still.

Right, left. Right, left.

Remus walked through the tunnel, heart pounding. Fenrir Greyback wasn't there yet. Remus would have been able to smell him by now if he had been.

Right, left, right, left… stop.

Sure enough, there was nobody past the trapdoor. The only person in the Shrieking Shack was Remus.

The wind whistled outside, and Remus shivered. It was dark. Would Greyback show up soon, or had he decided not to meet with Remus after all?

Remus felt frozen to the spot. He was even more terrified than he was on most full moon nights, because this time, he had no idea what was coming. Briefly, he considered crawling into the corner and cowering there until Greyback appeared…

No. He was a Gryffindor. He needed to be brave.

Remus took a few steps toward the middle of the room, searching for any clues. Right, left, right, left, right…

BANG!

A heavy item had fallen from the sky, missing Remus' head by mere inches. He looked up at the ceiling, but there was no one there… and then he slowly turned and looked at the item that had fallen.

It was a large, black box. There was a note attached to it.

Not wanting to touch the note for fear of a curse, Remus crouched beside the box. "Lumos," he whispered, and his wand boldly illuminated the parchment.

Thanks for playing, Remus Lupin. I won't be showing my face today, but there are more instructions in the box. Don't worry: we'll meet again.

—Fenrir.

Remus cringed. He did not want to be on first-name terms with one of the most notorious murderers in wizarding Britain.

Carefully, he stuck the note in his pocket, cast a Disillusionment Charm on both himself and the box, and he levitated the box (which was difficult, since it seemed to weigh half as much as Remus himself) all the way out of the Shack.

Both relief and dread clouded his mind, and it was a very strange combination of emotions indeed.

He knocked on Manard's door, box firmly floating a few feet above the ground. "You're alive," Manard said, opening the door. He didn't sound particularly happy about the fact.

"He never showed," panted Remus, shutting the door behind him and setting the box on an empty desk. "He left this behind, though—it dropped from the ceiling and nearly killed me."

"A box," mused Manard. "How do you know he was the one who left it for you?"

Remus grimaced, reaching into his pocket for the note. "This," he said, setting it on the desk beside the box. "It's… more formal than I expected a note from Greyback would be. I don't know what I expected… misspellings, maybe? More ink splatters?"

"I've talked to him plenty of times. He's certainly literate, and he can be formal when he wants to be. He did attend all seven years of Hogwarts before he was bitten, you know."

Remus stared at the box. "Do you… do you think the box is cursed?"

"I highly doubt it. I think Greyback prefers to subdue his enemies through physical force rather than tricking them with magic. He finds magic of that sort cowardly." Manard took a step toward the box and made a move as if to touch it with his index finger… and then he stopped. "That said," he added with a feral grin, "it could be cursed, so I'm going to ask you to touch it first."

Remus sighed. This was the problem with working with a man who did not care about Remus' safety whatsoever, he supposed. He took a deep breath, and then he reached out his hand and touched the box…

There was a sharp clicking noise, and Remus jumped back. "What was that?" he cried. "Was that a curse?"

Manard laughed—and laughed—and laughed. "I'm sorry," he finally said, wiping his eyes. "I've never seen anyone so nervous about touching a box."

"Well, I've already been cursed once, and it was highly unpleasant," Remus mumbled.

"And by the very same man, no less."

"Erm… no… well, maybe, but…"

"Oh, if we're going to work together, you might as well admit it. Anyway, no. That wasn't a curse. That was just the box opening up, see?" Deftly, Manard spun it around and showed Remus the back. One layer had opened, but there was another underneath. "I'm sure it responds to your touch alone. Now we need to get the second layer…."

Crinkling his brows, Manard stepped forward and examined the second layer. "Oh, it appears to be a riddle. I was in Ravenclaw, so I got quite tired of these after seven years."

"What do you mean?"

"I needed to answer a riddle to get inside my common room. The riddle changed every week, and it was absolute torture, I tell you. Go on, you solve it."

Remus peered at the box, squinting to make out the faint writing. "Erm… capitalized, it is one thing; lowercase, another. Their pronunciations differ, and so do their parts of speech, yet one can describe the other depending on one's point of view."

Manard rolled his eyes. "Well, you don't need to read it aloud. I've already read it."

"Sorry, sir." Remus racked his brain, but he came up empty. "Well, it's got to have something to do with werewolves."

"How do you figure?" said Manard flatly.

"Because… well, because he's a werewolf, and I'm a werewolf, so of course he's trying to tease me about it. Of course he'll bring it up."

"Oh, so the riddle has to be about werewolves, because he's a werewolf. That sounds a lot like prejudice to me."

"Please. You don't care about prejudice."

"No, but you do, and I most certainly care about hypocrisy."

Remus tried to block Manard out of his mind as he focused. "I mean, perhaps the capitalized thing is referring to how human first names are capitalized. So there's a dichotomy: during the day, werewolves' names are capitalized, because they're people. On a full moon, they're just lowercase werewolves. Some people believe that werewolves can be both people and murderous monsters, separately… and some believe that they can only be a murderous monster. It fits."

Manard snorted. "No, it doesn't, because you just said the word werewolves about a dozen times, and the box is still closed. If it's password-protected, you definitely got it wrong. Come now, Remus. Why does everything have to be about werewolves? It's only a riddle."

Remus felt his face go a bit red. He didn't mean to talk about werewolves so much—it was only that his affliction was on his mind nearly all hours of the day, so it was difficult not to speak of it. "Sorry. Erm… capitalized, it's one thing? I'm… not sure."

"It's quite easy."

"You know the answer?"

"Of course."

"What's the answer, then?"

"Well, if I tell you, then it won't be much fun at all. Think about it."

Remus thought long and hard. He racked his brain, mentally going through every word he knew. Capitalized, it meant one thing, and lowercase, another? He had no clue.

"Turkey and turkey," he finally blurted. "One is a country, and one is a food."

"Since when does that fulfill the other requirements? Their pronunciations are the same, their parts of speech are the same, and no one could ever think that one describes the other."

"Oh, er. Sorry."

"You should be. That was a stupid answer. You're on the right track, though. The answer should be a location, if I'm right."

"Erm… polish? Capitalized, it's a nationality, and polish and Polish are different parts of speech! One is an adjective, and one is a noun or a verb!"

"Since when can one describe the other?"

"I guess… they can't."

"They absolutely can't. Try again."

Remus fell back into a chair, utterly frustrated. "I don't know, Professor! I need some more time to think about this! I've never been very good with riddles!"

"You would have made an awful Ravenclaw. Think harder."

Remus thought—and thought—and thought. After about twenty minutes of watching Remus agonize over the riddle, Manard apparently grew tired.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," he said impatiently. "It starts with an N, and it's a city in…"

"France!" explained Remus. "I mean, it's Nice!"

The box clicked, and another layer opened. "I knew it," said Remus proudly, "because Nice and nice don't mean the same thing, but people could think that Nice is nice."

"You didn't know it," scoffed Manard. "I all but told you the answer."

"I was close."

"Please don't get too friendly with me, Lupin. Stay focused. We're not finished yet."

Remus looked at the next layer of the box that had opened up. "It looks like a map."

"Well, obviously. You're not very bright, are you?"

Remus took a deep breath and let his shoulders rise and fall. He knew he wasn't the brightest (at least not compared to some of the brilliant people at Hogwarts, like James and Sirius), and Remus very much preferred being called stupid to evil. But still… the words seemed to cut into his chest like deep barbs, and he didn't know how much more of this he could take. He really needed to think a little more before he spoke.

"It's in the Forbidden Forest," he said. "There's an X over the spot. Should we go right now or wait for another day?"

"What, you think Greyback is patiently waiting for us to figure it out? No, we're going now. It's far better to be safe than sorry."

"But…" Remus looked outside. It was now pitch-black, and the waning moon shone high in the sky. It was drizzling slightly now, and Remus was inexorably reminded of the night—a night a lot like this one—that Greyback had bitten him and ruined his life forever. "It's really dark out," said Remus. "It's better to be safe than sorry, yes, but I think this may be the opposite of safe."

"Hm, yes. And I'm sure you'll feel the same way next week, when your parents' throats have been ripped out, and Greyback is still out there, looking for you."

Remus cringed. "You think?" he said quietly.

"Yes, I do think that Greyback will make good on his threats if you don't comply with his instructions. Put your coat back on. And…" Manard grinned. "Merlin's beard, I hope we find him."

Remus rather hoped they wouldn't.

A cold breeze blew, and Remus wrapped his coat tightly around himself. The frost on the grass crunched beneath his feet in a way that was more menacing than satisfying, and Manard's presence was so imposing that Remus could hardly breathe. "Keep walking," said Manard when Remus started to slow down.

"My leg hurts," Remus said. "I hurt it every full moon, and it never heals properly—"

"My leg hurts, too, and you don't see me slowing down," Manard snorted. "Oh, by the way, I should warn you—Poppy's started me on daily painkillers, and she mentioned she's going to try to do the same for you eventually. I'd decline, if I were you. They don't do much."

"You're taking that instead of the Pain-Relieving Potion?"

"Yes. It's a much weaker potion that's sustainable for daily use." Manard shrugged. "She says I'll live longer if I take it instead of the Pain-Relieving Potion, but I don't know if I want to live longer if it feels like this."

"Wouldn't… wouldn't amputation help, sir?"

"Yes."

"Would it get rid of the pain completely?"

"Probably."

"Then… why don't you do it?"

Manard glared at Remus. "I'm not going to relieve the pain when it's the only thing keeping me dedicated to destroying Greyback. Pain is a powerful motivator, Remus. It's keeping me tethered to hatred, a constant and powerful reminder of my goal… no, I am not going to amputate the limb until Greyback is dead, mark my words. Besides, I deserve some punishment for what I let happen to my wife."

Remus looked away, unsure of how to respond to that. "Pain doesn't make your thoughts clearer," he said. "It warps them. If you have the option to get rid of it, you should. I wish more than anything that I had the option to get rid of mine."

"Don't pretend that you have human feelings," Manard snapped. "I don't need your advice."

Remus closed his mouth tightly and did not say another word for the rest of the journey.

They walked, just the two of them: two people who despised each other nearly as much as the common enemy they were seeking to defeat, bound by only mutual hatred toward the figure that mercilessly haunted both of their pasts. The cold wind blew, and it seemed to pierce Remus' bones.

They were in the heart of the Forbidden Forest now, and the journey became too much for Remus. "I need to sit down," he said.

"And let a wild animal get you? We need to keep walking."

Remus sighed. "Professor, I'm a werewolf. I can tell you for a fact that there are no dangerous animals in the vicinity, and I will know when there are."

Manard paused. "Are you certain?"

"Yes. I can smell them and hear them. The most dangerous thing nearby is yourself."

"Oh, please." Manard watched Remus sit on a fallen log, and then he sat behind him. Remus propped his sore leg on a rock, and Manard rubbed his own slowly. "You're far more dangerous than I am."

"I'm fourteen. You used the Cruciatus on me."

"You deserved it."

"I did not!"

"Shut up. You'll attract monsters… well, other monsters, I mean."

Remus was confident that there weren't any monsters around to attract, but he didn't argue. "You know," he said, "maybe I should have gone alone. Greyback might sense you coming and Apparate away."

"We're still on Hogwarts grounds, you idiot. He can't Apparate."

"Oh… right."

Manard stopped rubbing his leg and groaned. "Merlin's beard. As much as I hate to admit it, I needed that break. That was far more walking than I'm used to."

Remus hesitated, and then he pulled a bottle out of his satchel. "Madam Pomfrey gave me some Pain-Relieving Potion when I left the Hospital Wing—she always gives me a little bit, but I hardly ever take it. Do you want some?"

"Yes," said Manard immediately. He took the bottle from Remus and drank the whole thing, and then he handed it back. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

They sat in silence for a moment, and then Manard stood up. "All right, we're not that far out. Let's keep walking."

To Remus' surprise, he held his hand out and offered to help Remus up—Remus took it, and he pulled Remus to a standing position with surprising strength. "Thanks," said Remus, surprised. Somehow, the gesture didn't feel like Manard was helping; every kind gesture from the man made Remus feel worse, because such actions made him unpredictable. Whenever Manard called Remus by his first name, or helped him in any way, or was kind to him in front of other people... it all made Remus vastly uncomfortable for reasons he could hardly explain. That sort of thing was too personal, and Remus didn't want Manard to know him personally. More importantly, when Manard was calm and friendly, then he had the upper hand—and from the looks of it, Manard himself understood that thoroughly.

"Least I could do after I drank all your Pain-Relieving Potion," said Manard. "Come on, let's keep walking."

The wind howled and the trees rustled as they walked, and Remus couldn't stop his teeth from chattering. Suddenly, the frigid air brought a scent to Remus' nose that he identified immediately. "Red Cap den," he said. "Let's go around left instead of straight ahead."

"Good to know," said Manard, and that's exactly what they did—but just as they walked around a big, hollow tree, Remus couldn't help but jump back at the horrific sight within.

"Fiddlesticks," he murmured, as Fenrir Greyback stared him directly in the eyes, a sickening grin adorning his face. "Fiddlesticks."

Manard pulled out his wand. "Greyback," he said, pure hatred dripping from his voice. He stepped toward Greyback, and Remus could hear Manard's heart rate increase and his teeth grind together….

And then, in half an instant, Greyback transformed.

"What the hell?" exclaimed Manard, jumping back, and Remus did the same. The werewolf stared at the two of them with human eyes and dripping saliva, and Remus thought about running away, but he was glued to his place… and also, he couldn't fathom how Greyback had transformed without a full moon, and why something looked so unfamiliar about him.

Oh. His eyes were blue, not brown, and he didn't have any sort of scent whatsoever.

"That's not Greyback," said Remus. "That's a Boggart."

Manard scoffed, eyes still glued to the monster in front of him. "I'm not afraid of Greyback."

"No, but I am, especially now that I'm half-expecting him to show up at any moment. The Boggart was mimicking my fears when I was closer. When you stepped closer, it began to mimic yours. It didn't transform, it changed into a different form. That's… well, that's your wife, isn't it?"

Manard stared at it. "Yes," he admitted, defeated. "Those are her eyes. Dammit, Lupin—that's one nasty Boggart."

"Just a normal Boggart," said Remus, secretly happy that Manard had called him by his surname. It was creepy when he kept calling him Remus. "Do you want to get rid of it or shall I?"

"You can do it," said Manard, so Remus walked up to the Boggart—it reverted back to a sadistically smiling Fenrir Greyback, and Remus turned him into a seashell immediately.

"That should keep him out of the way," said Remus.

"Good. Full speed ahead, then."

They walked north for a while, and then Manard made a small noise. "Come here," he ordered. "What's that?"

Remus looked at where he was pointing—it was a small piece of parchment, sitting upon the mossy ground, with a rock on top of it to keep it in place. "You want me to pick it up," clarified Remus. "You're afraid it's cursed."

"Precisely. I'd much rather sacrifice you than I would myself."

Remus sighed and removed the rock with caution, and he began to read the writing on the parchment—something that he probably wouldn't have been able to do without his superior night vision, because Manard wasn't being very helpful with his wandlight. "Oh, no," Remus said.

"What is it?"

"It's from Greyback. He wants me to meet him in the Black Forest. You know… in Germany."

"Did he say when?"

"Next Saturday."

"All right, then." Manard sighed, and then he began to walk back to the school, his cane clicking against the rocks as he went. "We'll go to Germany next week, then. Clear your schedule."

"James has a Quidditch match," argued Remus.

Manard stopped in his tracks, turned around, and stared at Remus in disbelief. "Oh, no! I suppose you can't go, then. Make sure to write to Greyback and notify him about your schedule conflict, because otherwise he'll murder your family!"

Remus sighed. "I'll be in your office next Saturday at eleven," he said.

"Friday at six. Greyback was last spotted near that forest, and I suspect his pack live there. We'll spend a couple of days looking around. I want to search the whole forest, you hear me?"

"But… where will I sleep?"

"I'll figure it out. Pack for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. And try to get some more Pain-Relieving Potion from Pomfrey. I don't care how you do it."

Remus sighed and started trudging back toward the castle. It was shaping up to be a very bad year indeed.