Christmas holidays were slowly approaching, and with the ever-increasing chill of the winter air came the chill of something much more ominous: namely, Remus' upcoming outing to the Dering Woods.

They didn't go the very next week, as Manard had suggested, mostly due to the fact that they didn't want to test their luck again and risk someone questioning Remus' frequent disappearances. However, the trip was on the near horizon, and Remus could hardly stand the prospect.

On a rare snowy day, when the biting cold was somehow lessened by the fluffy flakes falling from the sky; when the Hogwarts students were outdoors, laughing; when the other Marauders usually returned to the dormitory with windswept hair and rosy cheeks, complaining about the burning in their extremities as they warmed up too quickly… it was on that day that Manard kept Remus after class and told him, "I want you to stay at Hogwarts over holidays."

"I can't," responded Remus. "I have plans. My parents want me home, the full moon isn't far away, and my friends and I are doing some things together."

"What sort of things?"

Remus blinked. He knew he could not say anything along the lines of attempting a highly illegal Animagus transformation.

"Ice skating. Seeing a museum. Er… having a birthday party."

"For whom?"

"Erm. My dad."

It was sort of true. Remus' father's birthday was in December, but he never wanted them to make a big deal of it. Remus realized now that perhaps it was because he knew money was tight, especially around Christmas season, and he didn't want gifts. Remus' father, however, insisted it was because "he didn't want to celebrate the mere passage of time, bringing him closer and closer toward death every year". Classic Lyall Lupin.

"Greyback could move away from the Dering Woods any day now," argued Manard. "Isn't that more important than a birthday?"

"Can't we go some other time?"

"Not without arousing suspicion!" Manard sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if Remus was being unreasonable (which Remus knew he was not. Kind of. Mostly). "How about this? You go home, enjoy your holidays, yadda yadda. But you tell your parents and your friends that you're expected back at school early—for whatever reason you want; I don't care what. You Floo to my office at 7am, January second. We'll go to the Dering Woods, and I'll have you back by Sunday afternoon, with plenty of time before your friends arrive in the evening. How does that sound?"

"I'll think about it," mumbled Remus. He would have a couple of weeks, at least, to enjoy his respite from schoolwork, from Manard, and from his at-times-overbearing friends (well, perhaps not that last one, as they had quite the plans for Animagus-related illegal activities). Right now, he didn't think he could—but perhaps he would feel up to it after a much-needed holiday.

"Fine. You're dismissed."

Remus scurried out of the classroom as quickly as his legs would take him, and if he were braver, he never would have come back.

But he wasn't brave, so he said, "See you after holidays," as he left the room, and he unfortunately really meant it, whether he decided to go on the Dering Woods trip or not.

It was still snowing, and Remus could hear James' whoops, Sirius' shouts, and Peter's laughter emerging from the white courtyard. The pure blanket of white which had once lain on the grass was now marred, covered in the footsteps of students, the snow kicked up and clumped into snowmen and forts. "Remus!" bellowed James as Remus stepped onto what was apparently a battlefield. "Join us!"

Remus ducked behind the fort which enclosed his three best friends. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Snowball fight. A magical snowball fight, no less. Check it out!"

Remus looked up. A massive snowball was being propelled through the air directly toward them, somehow much more quickly than a normal snowball would. Remus moved out of the way, and it… followed him?!

Quick as a dart, James stepped in front of Remus and knocked the snowball away with a huge bat. As the snowball went flying, the snow began to fall off its exterior, allowing Remus to see that it wasn't actually a snowball at all.

It was a Bludger.

"This is so dangerous," muttered Remus.

"That's the fun of it," said James with a massive grin. "Come on, Moony. Join in. It'll help with your duelling reflexes, I bet!"

"Not if I lose an arm," grumbled Remus. He was just turning to walk away and lie down in his dormitory, but then he felt a familiar, unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Squishy, hollow apathy, the kind that made him feel nauseous, like something was invading his throat, like he just wanted to disappear so that he didn't have to deal with it all….

Remus knew this feeling, and he did not like it. He swallowed once, then twice, and then joined in on the snowball game, which was the last thing he wanted to do.

He felt better afterward, in the brisk cold and the sunshine, surrounded by laughter… but only a little. Not nearly enough.

Madam Pomfrey requested to meet with Remus before he left for Christmas holidays, which she did before most major holidays. Remus showed up to the appointment a little nervously—after all, there was always the possibility that she would find out that he'd been up to something with Manard. The prescription potion had healed him very well, but there was still some lingering fatigue.

Fortunately, though, Madam Pomfrey didn't take long to examine him. She seemed to be rather distracted.

"What do you know about curses, Remus?" she asked.

"Erm," said Remus incredulously. "I know quite a bit about lycanthropy, if that's what you mean."

"No… sorry, that was a terrible way of wording it." She sighed. "Professor Dumbledore recently alerted me that we have a transfer student coming in soon, and she's cursed. A different sort of curse, mind you, but a curse that causes some… issues."

"Like what?"

"Well… okay. First, do you promise you'll never give away that I told you?"

"Of course. You know I can keep a secret."

"All right. I only ask because I want your advice."

"Okay."

"Her name is Mallory, and her family lives in Egypt near a historical site. When she was young, she stumbled into an Egyptian tomb while playing with her friends, and she was cursed. As a result, Mallory is prone to extremely bad luck."

"Bad luck curses are real?" blurted Remus. "I didn't know that Egyptian tombs actually caused bad luck!"

"Well, if Felix Felicis is a thing, then so is bad luck. Most things seem to go wrong for Mallory, and she's had to transfer out of multiple schools."

"Why?"

"Things just go wrong for her, Remus. She gets hurt frequently and misses exams. She loses friendships due to silly mistakes. She trips and has an unsteady hand when doing anything delicate. Sometimes she's expelled because the school fears a worse fate when she's around, and sometimes she merely transfers because she's done something incredibly embarrassing."

"Oh. That's sad." Remus looked at his bedsheets for a moment, contemplating how awful it would be to have such bad luck. His own curse was no picnic, but at least things were capable of going well for him. "She can't ever be happy?"

"No, the curse isn't quite that severe. Things can go well for her—they just don't, more often than not, and it happens too often to be attributed to chance."

"Hm. I'm not sure I get it."

Madam Pomfrey held up a finger, and then she took out a sheet of parchment and drew a circle. "These sorts of Ancient Egyptian curses work like so," she said. "The curses are drawn in a circle around the most valuable items in a wizarding tomb. Professional Curse-Breakers are excellent at avoiding these cursed spots. A three-year-old child, however, would not be."

"She was three?" whispered Remus.

"Indeed she was. It was only one hand—just her right hand—that she extended into the circle. The hand immediately shriveled up like a burning sheet of parchment, and she was cursed with bad luck."

"Her hand…?"

"Yes. She has a magical prosthetic now, of course. They're extremely functional. But that was just her hand, Remus, and not even a very large hand at that. The more human flesh that enters the cursed circle, the more the curse has to feed off of. Mallory was young, so she was sensitive enough that she immediately felt the pain and exited the tomb—but the curse might have affected an adult more slowly, letting them step completely into the circle before they realized that something was wrong."

"And all curses are like that?"

"No. That was a particularly strong curse, with death as a primary effect and bad luck as an effect only if the victim survived. Some have bad luck as a primary effect. Mallory only put her hand in the circle, so the bad luck doesn't effect her fatally. If she had been in there for longer—assuming she'd gotten out before the curse had eaten her alive—she would have had fatal or depressive bad luck."

"Oh." Remus shivered at the thought of such a grim curse and pushed the sheet of parchment away. "Why are you telling me all this? It seems like private information."

"Well, Professor Dumbledore thought that perhaps we could tell her about your lycanthropy."

Remus felt his heart skip a beat. "No."

"Hear me out, okay? Mallory feels incredibly lonely and isolated. She's terrified of hurting herself and others around her. She doesn't want to be the only person at Hogwarts with a horrible curse that affects every aspect of her life, day in and day out. She refuses to go to Hogwarts unless she knows that we are equipped to handle a student like her. Does that all sound familiar, Remus?"

Remus fell silent. "It's not the same thing."

"You're right. Your curse is even worse, which will put her at ease."

"It... doesn't sound like mine is worse."

"Hers is mild, Remus. She has terrible luck, yes, but it probably isn't strong enough to harm peripherals, and she's never gotten injuries as terrible as yours after a full moon. It's a massive inconvenience, but it isn't lycanthropy. If we tell her that we're equipped to handle lycanthropy, and if we prove it, then…"

"Then she'll know you're equipped to handle her," finished Remus dully. He was starting to understand now.

"I can vouch that she is very trustworthy."

"I… oh, fiddlesticks. I want her to feel safe at Hogwarts. It meant the world to me when I heard that I could go safely."

"And you would still feel safe if you told her?"

"I suppose." Remus sighed heavily and thought of Manard. "Fine. Tell her, but make sure that she and her family won't tell anyone. Make sure they can keep a secret." He took another deep breath. "And make sure that there's no possibility of her bad luck leading to my secret getting out."

"Well, I'm not sure how we would..."

"Have a long talk with them. Make sure." Remus hopped out of bed and shrugged. "Sorry, Madam Pomfrey, those are my requirements. I don't know them, so I can't discern whether they're trustworthy or not."

"Those are fair requirements. I will see to it."

"Thanks. I hope your holidays are excellent, Madam Pomfrey." With that, Remus left, heart hammering in his chest.

He was all for helping Mallory, but he didn't need any more bad luck in his life.

It was finally time to leave for Christmas holidays, and there was a festive energy in the air. James and Sirius were playing their favorite Christmas record, titled "A Hippopotamus Holiday," and paper snowflakes whizzed around the castle, courtesy of a first-year charm gone deliciously wrong. Final exams had just ended, and a mindset of leisure was beginning to settle into Remus' mind and take root like a colorful flower.

"Sirius and I are going to Peter's," said James. "We'll set up the dew in Peter's shed right as soon as we get there. After the first day, we're all going to my house until Christmas. It's going to be a big bash. You should come to the Christmas party, Moony!"

"Full moon's on the twenty-ninth. I might be too tired to party much."

"You're always too tired to party much."

"Yes, I am. Declining just feels nicer when I have an excuse."

Sirius grinned. "Oh, come on, Moony. You'll like it. It's just us… Prongs' family… a few random Purebloods that aren't too stuck up to talk to the Potters… and, let's be honest, that's not many."

"Oi!"

"Your dad once did a pro-werewolf campaign, Prongs! You're not even Sacred Twenty-Eight! No one in elite circles wants to speak to you."

"Except you."

"I already have one foot out of the elite circle, mate. My point is, Remus… you should come. You'll have a good time, I promise."

Remus sighed. "I don't even get what people do at parties. Do you just… stand around?"

"Yeah. We also talk, eat, dance, and open gifts."

"I can't bring a lot of gifts."

"Doesn't matter. You should come anyhow."

"I'll… talk to my parents about it. I don't even have dress robes."

James' eyes lit up. "Why didn't you say so?! I have tons of extras! Now, I'm taller than you, and you're thinner than me, but I have a really neat potion that'll make clothes fit you. It's insanely expensive—it would probably be cheaper to take it to Madam Malkin—but it's worth it so you don't have to travel!"

Before Remus could protest, James shoved the robes and a small potion into his hands. "These would look so great on you," said James, grinning. "Don't try to give them back. Train leaves soon, and we need to be there."

"But…"

"No excuses. Consider it my Christmas gift to you—you know, besides the whole Animagus thing."

"Oh, shut up," chortled Sirius. "That Animagus thing is just as much a gift to yourself as it is to him."

"Yeah, because being a stag would be bloody cool!"

"Not as much as being a giant black dog!"

"Not as much as being a… oh, never mind," said Peter sadly, likely thinking of his pitiful rat form.

They all laughed, and Remus slowly placed the robes and potion into his trunk before following his friends out the door to board the Express. He still felt bad about accepting such an expensive gift, but… oh, what were some dress robes between friends? He'd return them, anyhow.

The Hogwarts Express steamed joyfully, and Remus relished the feeling of the rumbling train underneath him as he boarded it. A mere few weeks ago, he had expected to be kidnapped or killed in the Black Forest by Fenrir Greyback, never to experience simple pleasures again—but here he was, returning home to simpler times.

Anxiety had been flooding his heart for the past several days, and Remus was almost thankful for the upcoming full moon. The stress of the transformation, the all-consuming pain that blocked out everything else, the terror… yes, that was sure to wash it all out, just like his mum sometimes washed out bloodstains in Remus' clothes with cold water. A bleak thought, but it was surely something to hold onto. Remus would take anything that sweetened the taste of something so bitter, even if only slightly.

"All right, lads," announced James once they had boarded. "Christmas holidays this year are going to be astounding. Brilliant. Excellent. The best ever."

"Agreed," said Peter, cheeks pink with excitement.

"We're going to take the next step toward becoming Animagi—"

"Not so loud," cautioned Remus.

"—attend a fancy Christmas party, have an excellent New Year's celebration… Moony, do you think you'll be up to that?"

"No. Moon's on the twenty-ninth, remember?"

"But you're usually all right in a couple of days."

"With Madam Pomfrey I am, but my parents aren't professional Healers with a plethora of expensive potions. You know that."

"I s'pose. Pity. Anyway, we're going to do a lot over holidays, and we're going to have an excellent time doing it. What say you, Marauders?"

Sirius and Peter cheered, and Remus smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, and one more thing," said Sirius. "The rest of us are almost completely done mapping the castle, Moony—we did it while you were out getting that cure. We even found two secret passages. We just have to clean it up a little, and then we can start scaling and drawing it!"

"Good for you," said Remus, who had his own Arithmancy project to focus on.

"I have so many plans for this map," said James, grinning. "It's going to be the best map ever."

The train began to move, puttering down the track, toward a place where Remus could finally forget about school, about Manard, and about the confines of the school he usually loved but sometimes tired of considerably.

The goodbyes were easy.

Remus' friends immediately ran away as soon as they could, gathering their things and then rushing to James' parents, only saying quick goodbyes to Remus while they left. Remus was a little slower about things, collecting his things methodically. He didn't want to hurt his sore bones by trying to do too much at once (he didn't feel enough excitement to want to).

Remus watched from afar as James talked to his parents, hands moving wildly, as his parents nodded and smiled. Sirius jumped in every so often. Peter looked like he wanted to, but he never did.

Remus found his father at the station, smiled, waved, and started walking to him. But then Peter looked back from afar, and before Remus could do anything about it, Peter ran up to him and grabbed his arm.

"What is it?" asked Remus, surprised.

Peter panted, out-of-breath. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine."

"It's just... you seem off."

"…Off?"

"Yeah. You're quieter. Less excited about things. It's like you're nervous about something."

"Look, I'm just… a little tired. That's all. It's been a long term, and I'm ready to relax for a bit."

"Are you sure that's all?"

"I'm sure that's all."

Peter smiled, said, "Have a good holiday," and then left.

Remus found himself relieved to avoid a more serious confrontation. He went to his father, handed him some of his things to carry, and then hugged him—with both arms—for a long, long time.

"Are you okay?" asked his father, surprised.

"Yeah."

"All right, then. Let's go home."

Remus grasped his father's hand, the air was filled with the crack of Apparition, and then the scent of home filled Remus' nostrils, and he let himself unclench his jaw and relax his shoulders for the first time in ages.

Remus wasn't ungrateful for Hogwarts—not at all, not one bit—but it was good to be back.