The next week, Remus was on top of the world.

He couldn't quite explain why. Something had just lifted up inside him the night he'd returned to Hogwarts with his friends. There had been a part deep within his chest that had been dead, and now it was alive again.

Looking at the map that his friends were building—the map that they'd snuck into rooms all of third year to build—Remus had felt a strange mixture of nostalgia and excitement for the future that had simply rekindled his soul. And then, when his friends had begun talking of the amazing things they could do as animals when the time finally came… well, Remus had finally allowed himself to feel something for nearly the first time since he was ten.

Hope.

Remus had tried to guard his heart against hopefulness, because in his experience, only bad things came out of it. The constant let-downs when his family was looking for a cure. The constant reminders that the greatest sufferings in his life would never, ever change. The constant trips to the cellar and mornings after, surrounded by his own blood and his worried parents and/or Madam Pomfrey. Hope was evil, because nothing would ever come out of it. It was an illusion, nothing more.

Remus knew that he should feel the same way about the Animagus plan… or at least convince himself to feel the same way, because it was potentially dangerous for his best friends. But alas, Remus was excited.

It was just something about the way James was talking about the plan (and what came after the plan) that rekindled everything inside Remus that he'd tried to suppress. "We'll wait with you in the Shrieking Shack," he'd said, "and as soon as the transformation is close, we'll transform, and wait close to you…."

"No," Remus had admonished, "you'll wait as far away as possible."

"Still in the Shack, though?"

"Still in the Shack. We shan't risk opening the trapdoor while I'm a wolf."

"Good. And then we'll run about with you. Play some games. I think we should all learn some simple communication."

"Communication?"

"Yeah, like sign language. You know, so we can talk to each other."

And that—that—had been when it had all become real for Remus. This wasn't just a whim of three teenage boys who were likely to kill themselves. This was real, this was good, and they were already nearing the final steps of the process. This was going to come, whether Remus liked it or not, and he finally allowed himself to imagine having company on those nights. Solidarity. Friends. Companions. Maybe Remus wouldn't hurt them. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

Remus was a terrible person, because this was a plan that could get his friends killed.

But maybe sometimes it wasn't so bad to be a terrible person.

Remus remained on top of the world all throughout the week. In Transfiguration, he achieved the Vanishing Spell on his very first try (granted, he'd done it many times before, as he belonged to a group of friends who frequently needed to Vanish evidence). In Potions, he brewed a perfect Aging Potion. In Astronomy, he got a perfect score on his quiz.

Mallory had been sorted into Hufflepuff, and she was apparently doing quite well in her classes too. She was technically one year older than the Marauders, but the curse had caused her to move around a lot and miss some school, so she joined the fourth year class with joy. She sat with the Marauders during meals every so often (even though she seemed to be making friends of her own) and would excitedly chatter about how much she was learning, how much she knew, and how amazing Hogwarts was. Peter seemed to get on with her well—Remus figured that, since Peter was a bit of an underdog, he sympathized with chronic bad luck in social situations.

Finally, the time came for Remus' first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of 1975, but he wasn't even nervous. After all, he had his friends by his side, he had hope for the future, and Manard didn't scare him one bit.

Until, of course, he set foot into the classroom and actually saw Manard's face.

Manard was standing by his desk, leaning on it, with his cane in his right hand. He smiled at every student as they entered, especially Remus, which was disconcerting and terrifying.

You have no power over me, Remus thought, and he took a deep breath and smiled back at Manard before sitting in his seat.

It was a good day, and Remus was on top of the world.

"I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas," said Manard once everyone had settled in. "I know I did. I had dinner with my family and my late wife's family. My grandmother made dessert, and let me tell you, she is excellent at making dessert. I probably gained five pounds in a night."

There was an array of laughter. Remus, who knew that Manard had only made that joke to throw in Remus' face (once again) that his wife was dead and it was the fault of a werewolf, did not laugh. He also didn't inwardly fume, though. He just didn't think it was a particularly funny joke.

"Today we're going to take a quiz," said Manard. There were a few groans, but Manard smiled and waved them away with his hand. "Don't worry; it's not a traditional quiz. I just want to see what you remember from before Christmas holidays. I want everybody to pair up with the person next to you for this quiz. We'll have both groups of two and three."

"Guess we're together, then," said Evans from beside Remus.

"Suppose so," he said.

"We're going to take the paper component first," said Manard. "Feel free to talk about each question with your partner—I find that conversations always help a topic stick in the memory better. Your quizzes are up here, in a pile on my desk. I'd prefer it if you all came up here and took one so that I wouldn't have to walk any more than I have to."

"I'll get one for each of us," said Evans. "No offense, but you look really tired."

"Tired? I don't look tired."

"Yeah, you do. Your annoying friends were keeping you up, weren't they?"

Remus didn't respond. Evans insulted his friends all the time, and he wasn't going to change her mind by arguing. Besides, he wasn't going to be bothered by anyone today, not even Evans.

The written part of the quiz was rather easy, extremely short, and there weren't many werewolf questions at all. Remus probably could have gotten a perfect score all on his own, seeing as his father was something of a Dark creature expert.

"Where do Lethifolds live?" asked Evans, frowning. "I don't remember talking about that."

"Tropics."

"Ah." She wrote it down. "I'm terrified of Lethifolds. They only attack you in your sleep, don't they?"

"Mostly, besides lucky people like Flavius Belby. My dad's been to the tropics for his work, though, and he says that Lethifold attacks are rarer than shark attacks. He also says that you have a zero percent chance of being attacked if you sleep with a light on, even if it's a small one."

"I'm going to have my mum dig my old night-light out of the closet, I think," mumbled Evans. "Magic stuff can be scary, can't it?"

Yes. Remus knew, more than anyone did, about how scary Dark creatures could be. That lent him a certain advantage, though: since he had already been through the worst, other Dark creatures did not scare him one bit. For one, most Dark creatures were afraid of werewolves and tended to stay away. For another, there was no Dark creature that could successfully change Remus into something else. They could kill him, yes (not that they would choose to do so), but they could not change him. For some reason, death scared Remus a lot less than being stripped of his free will and remaining humanity.

"Fortunately, we have magic to defend ourselves," he said. "Next question… oh. It's asking us to draw a Banshee. Can you draw? I can't draw at all."

Evans laughed a bit. "Not really."

0

After the written quiz, there was a different sort of question. "This is going to be a fun one," said Manard. "I've given you each a scenario, and you and your partner are going to create a skit that demonstrates the scenario and how you would effectively deal with it. We'll perform each of them in front of the class. You each have half an hour to write your skits, and then we should be able to get through each of the performances. I've assigned the scenarios randomly. Best of luck!"

Before even looking at the scenario, Remus knew which one he and Evans had received. Manard was trying to antagonize Remus, just as he always did—which Remus did not understand. If Manard really wanted to use him to find Greyback, then wouldn't Remus comply if he liked Manard more?

He read the scenario out loud, a pit forming in his stomach.

One of you will play a witch or wizard, sleeping after a hard days' work. The other will play a bloodthirsty werewolf, who climbs through the window on a full moon looking for prey. Demonstrate three scenarios: one in which the witch/wizard fails to defend her/himself, one in which (s)he is successful, and one more of either kind.

Remus slowly looked up at Manard, who met his eyes for a split second. Yes, he had done this on purpose. He wanted Remus to reenact the night during which he had been bitten, except in the role of Fenrir Greyback.

"I don't want to play the werewolf," said Evans quickly, just as Reums (and Manard, probably) had known she would. "I don't like acting, and playing a werewolf just seems embarrassing."

"I don't like acting much, either," said Remus, but he knew it was futile. Oh, how he wished he was with one of his friends, who would happily do anything embarrassing to keep the attention off of Remus.

"Let's think about that later. What should we do for the academic part?"

"Well, the only thing that would be very successful in this case is using some strong curses." Remus wrote down a few (some that he vaguely remembered his father casting on that fated night). "Those should work just fine."

"And Unforgivables don't work on werewolves, do they?"

"No, but I don't think Professor Manard would want us casting an Unforgivable in class."

Manard, who had evidently heard their conversation (he'd probably been listening the entire time), clucked his tongue and said, "Absolutely no Unforgivables in class, thank you." There was a titter of laughter throughout the room, and Remus' skin crawled. Manard was getting to him. He couldn't let that happen.

What would James Potter do in this situation?

Well, he would make jokes. He would make fun of absolutely everything, and Manard would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had not gotten to James Potter—that he could not get to James Potter. And James wouldn't be fearful that Manard would keep trying; he would be excited, because James would genuinely have fun with bringing him down each time.

Yes, James would have fun with it. Therein lay the key.

Remus decided that he was going to have fun with this if it was the last thing he did. He was going to try to make the class laugh, and if he truly succeeded, then he was going to find it funny as well. He was going to see this as an opportunity to be absolutely hilarious, because who could write a funny skit about werewolves better than he could?

"All right. Let's start writing," said Remus, determined, and he pressed the quill to the paper.

0

"I'm going to start from the back," said Manard after the thirty minutes were up.

He was leaving Remus and Evans until last, left to wallow in their own suspense. A clever tactic, but it wouldn't get to Remus.

That meant that James, Peter, and Sirius were up first—the only group of three—and Remus was incredibly excited to see what they had written. Perhaps they would make Remus less nervous for his turn. Perhaps they would give him some ideas.

Each of them cleared their throats as they walked to the front. Peter was dressed normally, but James and Sirius had both crafted black wigs out of yarn (where had they found the yarn?) and had magicked their robes green before ripping them to hanging shreds.

Oh no, Remus thought.

Peter cleared his throat again. "Oh no," he said in a perfect monotone. "I am a poor wizard, all alone in the forest, and I am afraid. What if there are werewolves in this forest?"

Remus snorted, and Manard gave him a look.

"Woe is me," said Peter. "I might die."

Suddenly, James and Sirius jumped in front of Peter. "We are Banshees," they said in perfect unison.

"Oh no. I am afraid of Banshees."

Remus saw what was coming—he'd practically seen it from a mile away—and he dug his fingers into his ears a split second before James and Sirius began to scream at the tops of their lungs.

"Make it stop," groaned Evans from beside Remus, and despite the ringing in his ears, Remus couldn't help but grin as Sirius and James just continued to scream.

Finally, Manard said, "That's enough, boys. You've made your point," and James and Sirius stopped. Peter fell on the ground in a dramatic death scene, and Sirius said, "That's what not to do if you see a Banshee, because their screaming is fatal."

"Instead," said Peter, standing up, "you should wear protective earmuffs when in Banshee-infested areas, and throw a Laughing Potion in its face as soon as you can."

Peter took a bottle of water out of his pocket and threw it at James, who caught it. James smiled apologetically. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to catch it, but my Quidditch reflexes are just too good."

"The end," they all said in unison, and the class went absolutely wild with applause.

"Very good," said Manard with a smile. "My only complaint is…"

There was a knock at the door, and Filch entered, Mrs. Norris hot on his heels. "I heard screaming," Filch panted. "What happened?"

"We're just doing some acting," said Manard. "Nothing to be concerned about, Argus. Thank you for checking in."

"Oh, I see." Filch left the roof in a huff, mumbling something about "blasted troublemakers that deserve to be punished"… and, as soon as he was gone, even more raucous laughter spread throughout the room.

"All right, calm down," said Manard. "I believe it's time for our next group."

The next group did a short skit about Inferi, using orange-colored smoke instead of fire to fend the Inferi away. "Brilliant!" said Manard. "Very clever. Thank you for not burning down my classroom."

The next group utilized the hoods on their school robes to be Dementors, and they pretended to cast the Patronus Charm. James couldn't resist reminding Professor Manard that he really could cast it, to which Professor Manard said, "Excellent. If there's ever a Dementor in the classroom, we'll let you handle it. For now, full points to my Dementor group for an excellent demonstration."

The next two groups dealt with Vampires and Grindylows, respectively, and then—at long last—it was time for Remus and Evans to take the stage.

"Once upon a time," started Remus in a hushed voice as Evans pretended to sleep at her desk, "there was a witch, sleeping soundly in her bed after a hard days' work. It was the perfect night: warm with a slight breeze, plenty of stars, freshly-washed sheets. She opened her window to enjoy the weather before drifting to sleep. All of the sudden…"

Remus cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and then he said, "ROAR! I'M A WEREWOLF!"

There was uproarious laughter. It hadn't been that funny, but Remus hardly ever spoke that loudly—and besides, Remus' friends nearly falling out of their chairs and wheezing in the corner only fed the flames.

There was something intensely terrifying about stating his secret so boldly. There was no way that the class would ever suspect, but this was the very information that Remus had shed blood, sweat, and tears trying to protect. Here he was, saying it out loud, right in front of his whole class… it was concealed in plain sight, and it was terrifying.

But it didn't bother Remus. Today he was James Potter, and nothing bothered him.

"Oh, no!" said Evans. "However did you get in?"

"Well, I just used my opposable thumbs to turn the doorknob," said Remus, and there was more laughter. It was intoxicating. "Only kidding. Werewolves don't have opposable thumbs on the full moon. I came through the chimney like Father Christmas." More laughter. "Only kidding. I was summoned via Ouija board." A little less laughter, so Remus decided to wrap up the bit. "Fine. I came through the window, as all well-mannered, respectable werewolves do."

"Oh. If you're a well-mannered, respectable werewolf, then perhaps I can interest you in a spot of tea."

"That depends. Do you have human blood?"

"Sorry, I forgot to pick some up last time I went to the grocery."

"Ah. In that case, then I'm going to have to bite you."

"Oh no." Evans pulled her wand out as Remus took a few steps forward, and she cried, "Unforgivable! Unforgivable!"

Remus took a few more steps forward and nicked her wand. "See, that is an example of what not to do," he said. "Unforgivables are completely useless when dealing with werewolves on the full moon, and merely the word 'Unforgivable' is even more useless."

A smattering of laughter. Remus tossed Evans' wand back to her. "Take two," she said. "There are a few good curses that will work against werewolves. I'm going to demonstrate them on a piece of parchment so that I don't hurt Remus."

"And I," said Remus, "have drawn an extremely accurate picture of myself on the parchment." Evans held it up. It was a stick figure.

"Flipendo!" she cried. "Bombarda! Reducto! Stupefy!"

The parchment was now completely destroyed.

"Alternatively," said Remus, "if Evans were being attacked by a werewolf, and there were an expert in the room with her, she could have let him deal with it instead. For instance… Professor Manard."

Evans handed Manard a wand. "Oh no! Protect me, Professor!" she said.

Remus summoned all his courage… and then he smiled at the armed Manard. "Do your worst," he said.

Manard stared, a confused sort of smile on his face. "I don't think you want my worst," he said.

"Something adjacent to it, then," said Remus.

"Ah. Well, you're correct. It is very often best to let someone like me take care of it when there's a bloodthirsty werewolf after you, isn't it?"

Remus did not miss the thinly-veiled double meaning—the situation with Greyback. "Right," he said. "We'll let you prove that to everyone."

Manard smiled, held up the wand, and then…

…a rubber chicken burst out of it.

"And that," said Remus, "is another way that definitely won't work. Never, ever use a decoy wand against a werewolf." He and Evans stood up and bowed. "Thank you."

There was more uproarious laughter. Manard smiled, and there was poison in his eyes that only Remus could see. "Thank you very much for that excellent skit," he said. "Now, we're out of time, but I hope that was a good refresher for some important information. Your homework tonight is to write a short essay about which Dark creature you would feel least prepared to encounter and why. Have a great afternoon."

"And you as well, Professor," said Remus as he left the room, accompanied by a laughing James, Sirius, and Peter.

The admittedly stupid skit had done the trick. Manard wouldn't get to Remus. Not now, not today, and not ever.