On the twenty-third of January, in a small corner of London, a small group of wizards flushed themselves down a number of toilets, worked their ways into telephone boxes, and rode magical buses and trains every which way. It was going to be a busy day at the Ministry of Magic.

The early morning sunlight filtered through the grand windows of the Ministry headquarters, and the atrium buzzed (both figuratively and literally, since Mr. Gobsneed from the Improper Use of Magic Department had accidentally released several dozen bumblebees onto the premises). The steady hum of enchanted parchment and echoing footsteps filled the air—just as it always did—but today, they hummed at a far higher volume, and not just because of the bumblebees. There were important witches and wizards around today. More so than usual.

Sebastian Sinclair was one such wizard. He was the newly-appointed head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and today was to be his very first Werewolf Registry. He had been sworn to secrecy the day prior—a long process that had included many spells and many signatures—and now he was privy to all the secrets of the Werewolf Department.

He couldn't say he wasn't anxious.

A few owls swooped around his head, and he tried not to pay them any mind as he stepped into the lift. What were those affirmations his wife had taught him? "I am strong and brave," he said aloud. "I can do anything I set my mind to. I can…"

"Will you shut up, idiot?" came a female voice from behind him.

"Oh. Sorry." He turned to face her. "Wait a moment. Aren't you… Wilma, was it?"

"Wilma Harrington, and I'm about to get very impatient with you. It's going to be a hell of a day, and I was hoping for some peace and quiet, not platitudinous patter."

"Ah. Well, I'm the…"

"You're the new Department Head. I know. You've been working here for… what? Four months?"

"Yes."

"Good. Hopefully you'll be better than the last one."

"You work in my department. I've seen you around."

The lift took off, and Wilma's face blurred slightly with the speed. "Wow! Thanks for telling me! I'd forgotten which department I work in—happens all the time, naturally."

He frowned. "I come from an upper-level government job in Australia. Does respect work differently in this country, or are you just impertinent?"

"I'm impertinent," she said, "but I'm excellent at arguing, so you'll want to keep me around. Your first Werewolf Registry is tomorrow, eh?"

"Yes."

"Well. Trust me, that's all the D.R.C.M.C. will be on about today. That thing with Fenrir Greyback in Hogsmeade the other day? Remember?"

The lift stopped. "I've heard of it, yes. I was the one who dispatched the W.C.U."

Wilma smiled. "Just remember to be tolerant," she said, stepping out of the lift. "Those poor werewolves are going through enough at the moment."

Sebastian blinked. Poor werewolves?

He was so stunned, in fact, that he forgot to remove himself from the lift, and he accidentally found himself zooming to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

His first conference of the day was, predictably, to organize the upcoming Werewolf Registry Day. "It's my least favorite time of year," grumbled Marcus Lovecraft. "Stupid ungrateful beasts, werewolves. Hardly any of them show up as it is."

"Why would they, if it's all voluntary?" scoffed a man whose name Sebastian did not know. "We ought to make it involuntary!"

"That's only going to encourage them to go rogue," said Lovecraft. "Besides, we don't have the staff nor the funds for that."

"I don't exactly understand how this is going to work," said Sebastian. "I've read the paperwork, of course—I know the basics. But you're telling me that only fifteen to twenty werewolves show up every year—yet it takes all day to Register them? Despite the fact that you have about five volunteers?"

"We have other things to do, as mere volunteers," said Ragfarn, the head of the Werewolf Department. "I don't get paid for working the Registry, so I might as well work on other things that I do get paid for. I see the werewolves when I have time."

"And that takes you until… sometimes into the wee hours of the morning?"

"Well, some of that is just to keep them off the streets," said Fawley with a laugh. "So here's what's going to happen, Sinclair…"

It wasn't until Sinclair's next meeting of the day that he learned about Remus Lupin.

It had been a well-kept secret in the Werewolf Department—hush-hush, even within the Ministry. Sinclair hadn't had any idea whatsoever.

"You're telling me," he asked Ragfarn in hushed tones, "that there's a werewolf student at Hogwarts?"

Ragfarn granted him a tight-lipped smile. "Yes. Remus Lupin. He's Dumbledore's little project."

"Project? That's not a project! That's… that's pure stupidity!"

"That's what we all tried to tell him."

"What could he possibly be trying to achieve?"

"Well, he wants werewolves to be treated like humans. He even invited Alexander Adamson to speak a little while ago and required every student to attend."

"I heard about that, but I thought… well, I'm not sure what I thought. I always knew Dumbledore was a tad eccentric. What year is the werewolf in?"

"Does it matter?" scoffed a man named Marcus.

"Fourth," said Ragfarn. "He'll be fifteen in March. He's really not so bad when you get to know him. Mild-mannered, respectful." Ragfarn sighed. "Only problem is that he's a bloody werewolf."

"Salvis Manard currently occupies the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts," said Wilma, who looked rather put-off for some reason, "and he's agreed to keep an eye on both Dumbledore and Remus Lupin. He says that not much out of the ordinary has happened lately."

"Sal was supposed to show up for this meeting," said Ragfarn. "Any moment now, I reckon."

Sinclair was still confused. "But… wait. But where does the werewolf transform? Has he caused any problems?"

"He transforms in the Shrieking Shack, just out of Hogsmeade. No one at the school or in Hogsmeade knows of his status, save for the staff. Dumbledore has charmed the Shack himself, and Poppy Pomfrey heals him after every full moon. As far as I know, he hasn't caused any problems."

"Except for the brief appearance of Fenrir Greyback in Hogsmeade," Marcus muttered.

"Now, Marcus. We don't know that was him. Innocent until proven guilty." Ragfarn smiled. "If we do prove him guilty, however, then Dumbledore's experiment will have officially ended."

"We won't find him guilty," said Wilma. "He's fourteen."

"Rest assured that we will be questioning him thoroughly," said Fawley. "So… who wants to take his case? Ragfarn?"

"I suppose I could."

"I want to," said Wilma Harrington.

"Harrington, this is your first time volunteering with the Registry. You've never worked with werewolves."

"I'm an integral part of the D.R.C.M.C. That's why I'm here. I want to volunteer."

"Not with Remus Lupin. He's a special case, and it's your first time!"

"Yes, but…"

Suddenly, the glass doors flew open, and a tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed man appeared in the doorway. He held an ornately-decorated cane, his hair was perfectly neat, and his robes were straight and pressed.

"Ah, Sal," said Ragfarn. "I was wondering when you would arrive."

"Are we debating who's going to take Remus Lupin's case?" asked the man whom Sinclair now knew to be Salvis Manard. "I'd like to."

They stared.

"Salvis," said Ragfarn, "you weren't even signed up to volunteer this year."

"Well, I've changed my mind." Manard smiled. "I've spent half a year with this werewolf. I know how he ticks. I know his best friends. I know his favorite classes. I know exactly how he thinks, and if anyone will get him to say something of importance, it will be me."

Sinclair's eyes darted to Ragfarn, who was observing Manard with a strange expression.

"Your call, Ragfarn," said Sinclair. "You're the head of the Werewolf Department."

Ragfarn sighed, and then he said, "That's fine, Sal. You can't just work with one werewolf all day, though. You'll replace Fawley. Fawley, you're off the hook for this year."

Fawley did not look disappointed, but Manard did. "I would have preferred to just take the one," said Manard. "I do have a day job, you know."

"We all do."

"I happen to have one in a different country."

"Take the case or leave it, Sal," said Ragfarn.

Manard blew a single harsh puff of air. "Fine," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He left.

"What was that about?" Sinclair couldn't help asking. "He's a bit of an odd character, isn't he?"

"He's my cousin," said Ragfarn with a slight smile. "His wife was killed by Fenrir Greyback a while ago, so he has a bit of a personal vendetta against the man—and against werewolves in general, of course. He's hated werewolves since before his wife was killed—he's actually been working with the W.C.U. since straight out of Hogwarts."

"And he's working at Hogwarts now?"

"Yes. I don't believe he's Remus Lupin's biggest fan."

"Remus Lupin… Lupin. I know that name. Isn't there a Lupin working with the D.R.C.M.C.?"

"Indeed. Head of Spirituous Apparitions. Remus is his son."

Sinclair shook his head, dumbfounded. "I had no idea. All this was going on right under my nose, and I had no clue."

"Well, we at the Werewolf Department do tend to keep these things a secret."

"That's for sure," said Sinclair, shaking his head once more. "Werewolves, eh? Hard to wrap one's head around them."

"I wholeheartedly agree," said Ragfarn quietly, staring into his half-drunk tea. A bumblebee landed on his hand, and he shook it off. "Damn bees."

On the twenty-third of January, Remus Lupin grabbed James' Invisibility Cloak and made his way out of the castle.

The wind whipped at his face, and Remus couldn't help but shiver in the frosty January air. There was some frost underfoot, and Remus could feel it crunch whenever he took a step.

He finally arrived at his destination: the Forbidden Forest. "James Potter is the best Marauder," he whispered, and the secret tunnel appeared. Remus climbed into it and felt the walls until he reached the end.

It took a while, but his hands finally navigated to the container of frozen dew. He opened the lid, stuck his hand in, and felt it.

It was still frozen, and the tunnel was still totally dark. Remus had cast the spells correctly.

With that small bit of relief, Remus felt the knot in his chest (placed there by Manard, Greyback, and his own fears) relax slightly. He used the rope to make his way out of the tunnel, and then he found himself blinking in the dim moonlight once again.

The moon was waxing. It was less than a week until the next full moon.

Remus looked at the gnarled trees, now mostly bereft of leaves, with branches like skeletal fingers. He inhaled: there was the scent of the forest, and he heard a horse-like figure darting through the trees some ways away. A unicorn, perhaps?

He sat on the ground and breathed in the air.

In.

Out.

In.

Suddenly, an owl burst through the trees and into Remus' line of sight, nearly scaring him half to death. The owl dropped a bit of parchment into Remus' lap, and Remus picked it up and held it in front of his eyes.

Dear Remus,

The Ministry approved my request to take your case. I hope you're thankful, because I'm giving up my whole day tomorrow for you. Come to my office at seven sharp. I hope you've notified your parents that their presence is not necessary, because Dav Ragfarn tells me that your father has been panicking all day.

I will have you back to Hogwarts within an hour. I promised I would make it as painless as possible, and I always keep my promises.

Yours sincerely,

Sal.

"Why did he sign it with his first name?" Remus grumbled before folding the parchment six times and pocketing it. It was somehow even more threatening when Manard tried to be friendly.

He relaxed once again and closed his eyes.

In.

Out.

In.

It wasn't long before the scents of Remus' friends cut through the clean forest air, and the sounds of their footsteps followed closely. "Moony!" cried James. "We were looking for you everywhere! We thought you'd been eaten by a Hippogriff or something!"

"Hippogriffs don't eat humans," Remus murmured, eyes still closed.

"What are you doing?" asked Peter.

"Thinking."

"About what?"

"About things." He opened his eyes. "I've solved my problem."

"About the Registry?" James leaned forward so excitedly that he fell into Sirius, who yelped and pushed James back. "What did you decide? Did my ideas help?"

"Not really," said Remus, "and I really am trying to relax, because my heart's been beating nearly out of my chest all day with anxiety, so please speak a little more softly and slowly."

"I can do that." James plopped on the ground next to Remus, and Peter and Sirius soon followed. He sucked a dramatic breath in, and then let it out. "What… did you… decide?" he whispered.

Remus couldn't help but chuckle. "Actually, I didn't decide much at all. It was Professor Manard who solved my problem for me. He works with the Ministry, so he offered to take my case himself. He promised he wouldn't use Veritaserum."

James blinked. "Really? That's nice of him."

"He's a nice person." Just talking about Manard—just thinking about him—was beginning to make Remus feel ill. Bile rose in his throat, and his heart began pumping again.

In through his nose. Out through his mouth.

"To be honest, Moony, he sort of rubs me the wrong way sometimes," said James. "There's just something about him."

"He hasn't done anything to merit that. I like him."

I don't, said Remus' mind. I hate him. I hate him with all my heart and then some.

"I s'pose if you like him, then we like him, too," said James.

"Good."

They sat in the forest for another moment, and then Remus said, "My spells in the tunnel held up."

"Thank goodness," said Sirius. "I really didn't want to have to start that dew process over."

"We can add the dew to the potion after the full moon." Remus stood up and brushed the mud off of the bottoms of his robes. "All right… sorry to interrupt, but I really need to write a letter to my father. Professor Manard says he's been panicking about the Registry… he always gets like that when there isn't a perfect plan in place at least a week before something important."

"We'll come with you," said James immediately. "But first…"

James whipped out his wand and pointed it directly at Remus. "Expelliarmus," he said.

It was all Remus could do to block the offensive spell, and he gave James an odd look. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you relax. Tarantellegra."

Remus blocked it once again. "Are we duelling?"

"You tell me. Flipendo."

"Woah!" Remus jumped out of the way and sent three Disarming charms in quick succession in James' direction.

He grinned. "There we go."

For the next fifteen minutes, Remus and James had a fast and furious duel. After a while, Sirius and Peter started one of their own. Remus let himself forget the past and future, and he began focusing solely on the spells which he was casting and blocking. Forward. Backwards. Right. Left. Attack. Defend. Parry. Leftrightleft, and dodge, and cast.

He let himself forget, but he also let himself remember. He remembered everything he knew about duelling—everything, absolutely everything, that he'd learned since his first year.

He was in first year, sitting in Questus' classroom, listening to him speak of his great adventures as an Auror. He was in first year, duelling back and forth with Questus, who went easy on him just enough to let Remus experience the thrill of a fully-fledged duel. He was back in his dormitory, reading and rereading Questus' duelling notebook, practicing each tip on the wall. He was practicing spells on Garrison, his pet Boggart. He was reading duelling books in the library. He was sparring with Professor Flitwick while they planned for Duelling Club. He was duelling Simmons, Death Eaters, and even Manard, all at once, in only half a moment.

Remus could have won rather quickly, due to the fact that James (though incredibly talented) hadn't studied duelling much. He kept the duel going, though, because it truly helped him relax. He was having an excellent time, and James was quick enough on his feet to keep Remus occupied, but not quick enough to keep Remus stressed.

Finally, he ended the duel with a quick Melifors succeeded by Expelliarmus, and he caught James' wand expertly as it flew through the air.

All four of them stood there, panting, and then Remus took a few steps forward and hugged James tightly.

James, taken aback, nearly toppled over. "This is perhaps the least Moony-like thing I've ever seen," he said.

Remus squeezed more tightly, and James yelped. "Shut up," he said. "Just… thank you. I've been annoying and sensitive all year, and you never, ever get tired of helping. You always know exactly what I need, even when I don't."

"That's what friends do, isn't it?"

"No. You go above and beyond every single day. It's not normal at all."

"Neither are your hugs, mate. You're choking me."

Remus let go and took a few steps back. "I've been so stressed today that I was deeply considering asking Madam Pomfrey for a Calming Draught, and you know how I feel about mind-altering potions. My heart was beating too quickly all day long. My chest felt tight. I was shaking. Even after Professor Manard offered to help, the mere prospect of letting everyone down… of leaving Hogwarts… of proving to the world that werewolves really are what everyone thinks… of being killed… it was all still there, and I didn't know how to calm myself down."

"Understandable."

"But you could. You're the only one who could. I feel better now. Thank you."

"That duel was about thirty minutes long. I should hope you're feeling better."

Remus looked at his watch. "Oh. Erm, sorry. I didn't know it had been that long."

"Absolutely okay, mate," said Sirius. "Let's go back to the castle. I'm tired."

So was Remus, but he was tired in all the best ways. He thought he'd be able to sleep that night, and he needed a good night's sleep more than he needed food and water.

"Thank you," he told James again.

James rolled his eyes. "Okay, Moony, now you're getting annoying."