Full Moon

Lupin returned to his human form near the place where he had left his warm clothes, as he had ever since he started coming to this place. He thought that his wolf side was trying to keep him alive, for in the winter he sometimes even found himself under a layer of pine needles beneath the light snow cover. He still had never dared to leave a broom here, let alone a wand, for any animal might dig it up and chew on it or carry it away. He had usually returned to this place exhausted but quite contented, and drawn by the beauty of the forest, he had sometimes explored it a little, though he had always felt that he was being watched, and that he would have no defense against the magic here, should it become hostile. But this time he came back feeling empty and frightened, and was anxious to return to London as soon as possible.

He Apparated to the far corner of Diagon Alley and turned quickly into it. People took no notice of him, for he saw no one he knew, and the sight of a wizard in Muggle clothes was nothing extraordinary there. But as he continued down the street, he was surprised to see a man in the green uniform of St. Mungo's look into his pale and exhausted face first with recognition, then with concern, and then with a look of gradual dawning comprehension. Could this wizard know that he was a werewolf, and be sympathetic? The man did look familiar to Lupin, but he couldn't place him. He had brown hair, brown eyes and an open, friendly face.

"Remus Lupin?" he said. "Steve Gillyfeld. I worked with you at St. Mungo's, it must have been at least ten years ago. I don't know whether you remember me, because you were only there for a few months."

Lupin remembered that after his rejection from the Ministry he had tried to work at the next place where he thought he might make a difference, as a Trainee Healer in the section for Creature Induced Injuries, and had soon been forced out. Maybe Gillyfeld remembered him because the discovery that he was a werewolf had been a memorable event at the hospital.

"I'm a Healer in Potion and Plant Poisoning. I really want to talk to you, Lupin. Would you like to join me for some breakfast?" He pointed to a cafe with outdoor tables. "Clarissa's cafe serves a restorative tea that makes you feel as if you haven't been awake all night. Of course it's very popular with hospital workers."

Lupin smiled. "Perfect," he said.

They sat down at one of the tables and ordered some restorative tea and some kippers and eggs. When the food came Lupin realized he was ravenous.

"I always hoped I'd see you again," said Gillyfeld. "You disappeared for so long that I feared the worst. I was really excited to hear that you were teaching at Hogwarts last year." Lupin's memory of Gillyfeld was starting to return. He had been an idealistic young wizard, straight out of school, and a very promising Trainee Healer. "What I wanted to ask you is, did you have the Wolfsbane Potion?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Professor Snape, the potions master, made it for me."

"Snape knows how to make it! I thought as much. Well, we could do with a bit less secrecy from him. We can hardly get it at all. And do you know why we can't get it?"

"Perhaps because it's for werewolves, it's expensive and hardly anyone knows how to make it?" suggested Lupin coolly.

"But do you know why it's expensive, Lupin? Do you know why no one knows how to make it? It's a scandal! It's a disgrace! The Ministry--" he continued, "--the Ministry--has classed it--"

Lupin saw to his surprise that Gillyfeld could hardly speak through his indignation.

"--As a veterinary potion!"

"That sounds like the Ministry alright," said Lupin grimly.

"If it were classed as an essential medical potion, the Ministry would pay for the ingredients, like they do with other essential medical potions. They would make it a requirement for the potions N.E.W.T., and that Slytherin Snape would have to teach it whether he feels like it or not. All the Healers and potion-makers would know how to make it, and do you know what that would mean, Lupin? Do you know what it would mean?"

Lupin gestured for Gillyfeld to lower his voice, for he was getting carried away.

"We could make it available free to anyone who is bitten, the moment they are bitten. Everyone wants to continue the life they had before they were bitten. Parents would make their children take it. The werewolves in the Den--they're just the ones who've given up. The new ones would never end up there. And do you know what else? The ones who have the potion would not be biting anyone! There would be fewer and fewer new werewolves being created! It would be exponential! In a few generations lycanthropy could be virtually eradicated!"

"Gillyfeld will you please keep your voice down?" Lupin hissed, for a couple of people at other tables had turned to look at them. "I'm afraid even if the Ministry ever reclassifies it, it won't go as smoothly as you think. The werewolves in the Den won't take it, they mistrust other humans so much. They are the majority of the werewolves, and they will still be biting. Employers will still discriminate against werewolves, even if we have the potion. They will know who we are if we have to take time off at the full moon every month. Prejudice against werewolves runs very deep, and it isn't quite without reason. Even those who have the potion may occasionally forget to take it, and this will be especially dangerous, since they will be among other humans. Many werewolves, even the new ones, will still wind up in the Den, because they won't be able to make a living here."

"Rome wasn't built in a day, Remus," said Gillyfeld, looking at Lupin with a certain merriment in his warm brown eyes. Lupin had a suspicion, which was getting stronger, that Gillyfeld was a Muggle-born wizard who had taken on a joking modification of his family name, probably from kids at Hogwarts. "Change is slow, but it's already happening. Many employers look the other way now. If a good employee is bitten, the employer does not want to lose him. Werewolves who are employed try harder to transform in places where they won't reach people. Sometimes an employer may find out someone is a werewolf, but if he keeps quiet about it so will his boss. It isn't the same as it was ten years ago. When is the last time you tried to work above ground?"

"You haven't heard?" said Lupin dryly. "I had a teaching post at Hogwarts last year. Do you want to know how I lost my post?"

"No, I don't want to know how you lost your post," said Gillyfeld dismissively. "For some reason I am unable to fathom, nobody ever stays at that post for more than a year. At school they used to say there was a curse on it. Anyway, I know you didn't bite anyone, because that would have been big news."

"I couldn't work there once everyone knew I was a werewolf. The parents would have been terrified for their kids."

Gillyfeld frowned. "Did the parents know about the Wolfsbane Potion?"

"I doubt it."

"Did you try to negotiate? Did they say you had to leave?"

"No to both. But the headmaster had already gone out on a limb for me more than once. I couldn't put him through that."

"But you never tried to negotiate with an employer, did you, Remus? You always just left with your tail between your legs."

Lupin did not care much for this metaphor.

"I was never in any position to negotiate, and you know that perfectly well, Steve. There was no law banning employment discrimination against werewolves. There was no union of werewolves to back me up. I was one of the only werewolves even trying to work in the mainstream world back then. I had been given an opportunity that most had not, and I had the mistaken idea that I could make a difference."

"You still can! You still can!" said Gillyfeld, brightening again. "Remus, every werewolf who wants to work in the mainstream Wizarding World can make a difference. Maybe you can't yet work at a school or a hospital, but there are plenty of other places you could try."

"Who would hire me? Gillyfeld, do you know what I've been doing for the last ten years?"

"I don't need to know what you've been doing for the last ten years. I imagine you did whatever you had to do to get by. It's what you do now that matters. It's the future that matters. It's time to start standing up for your rights."

"I must have missed it," said Lupin sarcastically, "but I come here on a regular basis to catch up with the news, and I haven't seen anything about a change in the legal status of werewolves. How can I stand up for rights I don't have?"

"How will you get them if you don't stand up for them? Remus, some of us are trying, but change can't just come from the top. If wizards see that werewolves want to live as other humans do, they will be more interested in making accommodations that will make the werewolves less dangerous. The more wizards give them opportunities, the more werewolves will have motivation to seek them. It's cyclical. The legal changes will come. They will come, however long it takes."

"How can we try to live openly among people who look on us with fear and loathing?"

"I must have missed it," said Gillyfeld, imitating Lupin, "because I just saw you walking down the street, and I didn't see a single person looking on you with fear and loathing."

"Were they looking at me at all? Maybe they fear and loathe me so much that they won't even look at me."

Lupin saw to his annoyance that Gillyfeld was shaking with silent laughter.

"Gillyfeld, it may be different for the newly bitten," he said seriously, "but in my case no one can pretend. Everyone in the Wizarding World sends their kids to Hogwarts, and by now everyone knows what I am. Everyone knows I was given a great privilege, but wound up like the rest. I can't keep a low profile nor set an encouraging example."

"Remus, I have a friend with a son at Hogwarts who told his parents that you were very nice and a very good teacher. He said he never thought he could face a Dark Creature until he took your class. By the end he didn't care when he found out you were a werewolf. My friend said it changed her view of werewolves. Did it ever occur to you that what the kids told their parents might actually have improved the public perception of werewolves? If everyone knew what you are, they'd know you are a kind and clever fellow who just happens to be a skilled wizard. Is that how you define yourself, simply as a werewolf? Remus Lupin, are you ever going to get off your knees?"

Lupin could stand no more of this, not because of the content of what Gillyfeld was saying, but because so much of it was being overheard by people around them. "I have to be going," he said, standing up. "Nice seeing you, Gillyfeld."

All the merriment and irony vanished from Gillyfeld's face and was replaced by the look of concern with which he had first regarded Lupin. "At least give me your address, Remus, so I can send an owl if we get the potion."

Lupin realized this was a good idea. He took out a piece of paper and a pen and wrote down his address, and Gillyfeld smiled with recognition at the London address as well as the pen and paper. "Very good, Remus. I'll let you know as soon as anything happens." They shook hands, and Lupin walked away rather hurriedly from the vicinity of the café.

His next stop was Gringotts, because he wanted to withdraw money in order to try to buy the potion at the apothecary shop. He also needed to pick up his wand, which he always checked into a security box there before his transformation journeys.

Lupin sort of liked Gringotts, because although the goblins there knew he was a werewolf, they didn't treat him any differently than they treated other wizards, since they mistrusted all wizards, and were only interested in their business. He had never opened an account there until he had the teaching post at Hogwarts, since before that he had never had any money. He had a pleasant earlier memory of the place, though, because after his friends found out he was a werewolf, and he expected them to dump him, James took him down to the Potter vault just for the fun of riding the carts, and gave him a Galleon for the favor of his company.

He had thought of taking out fifty Galleons, but decided on a hundred, for what did he have to lose? If having the potion could help him get a job, he would start to have income, and might be able to continue buying it. He put his wand in his belt so he would not be mistaken for a Muggle, and carried his sack of gold down the street to the apothecary shop, which was reputed to be the best in the Wizarding World.

The apothecary was an elderly wizard wearing midnight blue robes embroidered with silver crescents and stars, and a matching blue pointed hat. He sat on a high stool behind a counter in the outer room, in front of rows of shelves with bottles and phials of variously colored liquids in them. An odd mixture of smells, some more pleasant than others, wafted out from the inner room.

"And what can I do for you, sir?" he said pleasantly as Lupin walked in.

"I was hoping to buy the Wolfsbane Potion," said Lupin. "Do you have it?"

"No, unfortunately," said the apothecary, looking troubled. "It's a very complicated potion, and I haven't had time to learn how to make it. I'm afraid I'm so busy that I can't always keep up with the new ones. It's especially hard with this one, because the ingredients are difficult to obtain. Several of them need to be gathered from different places only at the full moon."

"And your apprentices--they haven't had a chance, either?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. It's difficult to learn from a recipe, without being coached by someone who already knows how to make it. Until I have a chance to learn, it's too difficult for the apprentices to do on their own. The wizard who invented it has already retired. There hasn't been much demand for it, because most werewolves are poor and do not want to take it anyway."

"Not much demand for it? Have you tried St. Mungo's? Or the parents of bitten children?"

The apothecary shifted uncomfortably. "It's a shame, sir, but the hospital has to buy so many things for so many people that they can't afford to advance as much as we need to obtain the ingredients. We also need to meet the demands of many people for many things, and we are very behind both with the learning of the potion and with the gathering of the ingredients."

"Professor Snape at Hogwarts knows how to make it."

"Professor Snape at Hogwarts? Wasn't he a Death Eater? Yes, I'm sure he knows all kinds of things," said the apothecary with distaste.

"Supposing someone else put down money in advance for the collection of the ingredients? Would that give you or your assistants a chance to learn?"

"We could try it, but I'm afraid the outcome is uncertain. It would have to be a considerable amount, and I can make no promises about when you would get anything back. And sir," he said, dropping his voice, "are you certain the werewolf will take it? Is it for your child?"

"Of course I'll take it. Why do you think I'm asking for it?"

The wizard jumped and quickly glanced at his calendar, on which the phases of the moon were charted. Then he collected himself and turned back to Lupin, looking even more troubled.

"How much money can you put down?" he asked doubtfully.

Lupin plunked a hundred Galleons down on the counter. "How far will this get me?"

The wizard looked astonished, then alarmed. He knew how werewolves lived, and he thought that Lupin must have stolen the money. To accept so much money on such an uncertain outcome would be like stealing it himself. It might be traced to him, and he could be in a lot of trouble. His business would be in trouble. But wasn't the werewolf right? What was stealing the money compared with the ongoing attacks of a werewolf? This werewolf must have a conscience, or he would use the money for something else. It was an ethical dilemma. But more people would be hurt if he lost his business, because so many people depended on him...

"I'm sorry, sir," he said, "but I can't take your money with the outcome so uncertain."

Lupin knew what the apothecary thought, and suppressed a momentary urge to magically break the row of bottles and flasks behind him. "Well then, supposing I just drop by from time to time, to see if there's been any progress?" He knew it was not a good idea to give his address, because it would be dangerous to let this wizard know that he was living among Muggles.

"Please do, sir," said the apothecary, and then he added hastily, "we're only open during the day."

"And what time do you close in the winter?" said Lupin a little mischievously.

"We are open every day from nine to five," said the wizard composedly. "I'm terribly sorry, sir," he added, looking as if he really was.

Lupin nodded and walked back into the alley. He made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, and back into the streets of London. Weary as he was, he would walk the three miles to his lodgings, for he could not face the stuffiness of the Underground, and he thought a bus would make him queasy.

Lupin could believe that Severus had ingredients stashed away in the nooks and crannies of that crazy office of his that the best apothecary in Diagon Alley could not find. He could believe that Severus could figure out a potion from a recipe that no one else could learn without coaching. He realized how much trouble Dumbledore and Severus must have gone to in order to make the potion available to him. Pondering this, he finally reached his lodgings, and, relieved that no one was around, went to his room, flung himself down on the bed, and fell asleep.

He woke up as night was falling, and was confused. What was he? Where was he? Why was he waking up at nightfall? As usual, the respite from reality did not last long. He remembered the events of the morning, and felt he must bite the bullet. There was nothing for it but to ask Dumbledore or Severus for advice on getting the potion again.

Dumbledore must be angry with him, for he had shown none of his characteristic warmth at their parting, even knowing that they might not meet again. After everything Dumbledore had done for him, Lupin felt that he would rather expose himself to another kick from Severus than ask Dumbledore for another favor. He opened the locked drawer in his nightstand where he kept his wand, and took out a sheet of parchment and a quill.

Dear Severus,

Dear Severus? Lupin shivered. Severus had tied him up. Severus had tried to send him to Azkaban. Severus had referred to him as "the werewolf" instead of by his name, in order to discredit his testimony. Severus had tried to teach Lupin's own class how to capture and kill him. Yet Severus had made the potion...

Lupin sighed. Sometimes he wondered whether Severus, like him, had nightmares, nightmares about Voldemort and about his time as a Death Eater. Whether Severus, like him, had a heavy burden of guilt. Lupin could imagine what sort of fate might await Severus if Voldemort should ever come back. Why did Severus hate him so much? What had he ever done to Severus except, as a teenager, be friends with his enemies? Was it ever too late for a reconciliation? Maybe if Lupin addressed him more politely...he flicked his wand over the parchment to start again.

Dear Professor Snape,

I am writing to you because you are the most skilled potion-maker in Britain.

No, Severus would despise flattery from him, even if it was no more than the truth. Worse, he might think Lupin was making fun of him. He remembered with a curse his own and his friends' voices mocking "Professor Snape," his appearance and his credentials, from the Marauder's Map. Did Severus want him to die for saying he had an abnormally large nose? Were they to be locked to the death in this adolescent squabble?

Maybe if he offered to pay him well...no, he would not be able to do that for long, and he had a feeling that the only payment that would satisfy Severus would be a pound of his own contaminated flesh. For in his years in London, Lupin had sometimes managed to go to the theatre, and to enjoy the plays of that old playwright whom the Muggles loved so much. And there had been a much-abused and very vindictive character in one of them who had reminded him a bit of Severus.

He flicked his wand over the parchment again. He had to erase this one, or the landlady might find it and suspect he was drinking again.

He went to the window and looked sadly out at the moon, one day into its waning. He might never get the potion, and after having seen something different, could he face that monthly terror for the rest of his life?

Yet he had survived all these years after the shock of finding that he had to face it alone. Moony, they had called him. One dead. One the worst of traitors. One in hiding somewhere, the most wanted fugitive in the Wizarding World. If anyone knew where Sirius was, it would be Harry, but he did not have Harry's summer address, or Hermione's. He knew where the Weasleys lived, and Ron would have Harry's address, but he had not forgotten Ron's words to him in the Shrieking Shack: Get away from me, werewolf!

He knew he should forget it, because Ron had not been hostile to him after that, and the boy had been in tremendous pain, under tremendous stress, and probably terrified at the time. But those words had cut through Lupin like a knife, for they seemed to be a concise and brutal articulation of the often unspoken, less personal, and more subtle messages he had heard all his life from the Wizarding World. Had such an attitude been part of Ron's upbringing? If so, he suspected that it came more from his mother than from his father, for Arthur Weasley had a reputation for being somewhat unconventional as well as very amiable, and was looked down on by the snobs of the Wizarding World for his sympathetic interest in Muggles. Could that open-mindedness possibly extend to werewolves? Would Arthur remember him as a comrade from the war?

If he wrote to Ron, the parents might be concerned, but he suspected that if he wrote to Arthur the man might be discreet, and he probably had Harry's address himself. He smiled as he took out a piece of Muggle paper and a pen from the top drawer, because he thought Mr. Weasley would get a big kick out of receiving a letter written with a Muggle pen on Muggle paper. From what Lupin had heard of Arthur, he probably would consider the ballpoint pen to be an ingenious invention.

Dear Mr. Weasley,

I hope you are all well and happy. I was wondering whether you could possibly send me Harry Potter's summer address, because I want to send him an owl, because I need to ask him something.

He paused. He couldn't think of anything else to say, but thought it might be impolite to send such a short note to someone he hardly knew, obviously only written because Lupin wanted something from him. It occurred to him that perhaps he should apologize for events at the school, considering that there were five Weasley kids there, but he was afraid to. He did not know what Ron had told his parents either about himself or about Sirius, or what they believed. What could he say? "Sirius is cool, he only broke into Hogwarts with a knife to try to kill Ron's rat, who was in fact Peter Pettigrew"? Or "Sorry I transformed into my werewolf state at your children's school, and almost attacked one of your children, and if you see a big black dog almost the size of a bear, you should thank him that Ron is not a werewolf"? Yes, that would surely do, he thought bitterly. Maybe Ron had been right. He crumpled up the paper and aimed it, Muggle-style, at the wastebasket. He had not written down the last bit, so if the landlady found it, she need not know that he fancied himself a werewolf. But then he remembered that, commonplace as it seemed to him, even the first bit was dangerous. He picked up his wand again. "Accio note," he said sadly.

Lupin felt old and tired. In the days that followed, he realized that he could not face moving again, or living in the sort of place where no one would care about anything he was doing or how many times he came home drunk. If he was to avoid drinking, he needed to avoid his old haunts and old acquaintances. He did not think he could manage to play that game any more anyway. He did put an ad in the paper as a magician, and obtained a few gigs at social events, but he could not support himself that way, and he knew he would be in trouble when Dumbledore's money ran out.

Since they knew he was around but was avoiding them, his old acquaintances became cooler to him, even to the point of hostility, because they thought he was trying to climb above them socially. They need not fear that, thought Lupin grimly, for he had been educated as a wizard, and apart from the fact that he had no experience and no references, he would not have been capable of performing a regular job in the Muggle world without blowing his cover. He could not figure out how to use those devices that Muggles used to do things that he only knew how to do with magic. The Ministry would find him out at last. There was no future there for a wizard in hiding.

Disregarding the precipice in the distance, he continued walking and reading, and pretended to go to AA meetings to reassure his landlady. One time he saw a couple of his old acquaintances under the awning of a storefront, and he smiled and waved. The woman smiled but the man did not. "Why don't we see you anymore, Magic Man?" asked the man.

"I'm living with a lady friend now, and she says if I come home drunk one more time she'll throw me out. I need to avoid the pubs now."

"A lady friend, eh? Well why don't you bring her along? She too good for us?"

"Don't be stupid, Jack," said the woman, hitting him. "It's time Magic Man found someone. If she doesn't want him to drink she wouldn't want either of them to come."

One time he was in the library and his attention was caught by a book someone had left on one of the tables: Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley. He knew it was a classic of fantastic Muggle literature, and he had always wanted to read it but been half-afraid to, because he knew it was a tragic story with an unfortunate monster in it, and he had always expected that he would identify painfully with the unfortunate monster. But someone had left it there, as if for him...

He started reading it that afternoon and it kept him up all night. When he finished it he pondered on this so-called monster, who had been called that even before he had done anything wrong. He was a human, but he had been completely rejected by human society simply because of his appearance, and only when his complete exclusion was certain did he become dangerous, for his nature had been gentle. His situation was worse than that of a werewolf, for there were many werewolves, so at least they had each other. Should Lupin return to them? No, he could not, after all these years, resign to being a criminal and a killer. Yet he saw one similarity: he believed, as Gillyfeld did, that werewolves would be less dangerous if they did not continue to be shunned.

He dreaded his next transformation, but the time came to pack his battered suitcase. There were wizards in Scotland, but he had always known it would be of no use trying to make the acquaintance of any he if he planned to leave his broom with them, for they would see that it was always at the time of the full moon and would figure out the truth. They would not want a werewolf near them, especially near the time of his transformation. And if he habitually appeared at Muggle Inns in Edinburgh or any Scottish town carrying a broom, people would think him very weird and might steal his broom for a lark or to see if there was anything special about it. So again he boarded the train.

***

When the missing night was over and he transformed back to his human state at the edge of the magical forest, he could hear the birds singing, and he realized, as the sun rose higher, that it was a beautiful day. Despite having the same empty and lonely feeling he had had after the previous transformation, he found himself drawn to the forest as he sometimes had been in the past. He sat down on the soft needle-covered ground near a stream, and his mind wandered again to the book he had recently read.

Like Frankenstein's creature, Lupin had always yearned for a partner like himself. He would not be dangerous to a female werewolf, since she would be transformed at the same time he was, and he would not have to explain his disappearances to her. The thing that always puzzled him most--where were all the female werewolves? A wind suddenly rose from nowhere and there was a strange rustling in the trees.

The werewolves in the Den did not seem to mind that there were no females among them. He had not seen them ever seek out women. Their interest in flesh was only of one kind, he thought with a shudder. The ones who had given up, Gillyfeld had said. Lupin had thought he was different from the other werewolves, but he had not been perceived that way by witches, and could not confide in a Muggle woman, though he had tried. The breeze was getting chillier. It was not as nice a day as he had thought.

Maybe all the other werewolves ate all the women they caught. He wanted something different. Had he ever tried? Perhaps if he went, before his transformation, to a place where he was sure to find a woman to bite...he suddenly felt a terrible sharp pain in his ankle. A Grindylow had crept out of the stream and sank its long teeth through his socks and into his ankle! Lupin had never seen any Dark Creatures here, but he had long tried to train himself to confront such things without a wand, for he never had his wand when he transformed. He observed the pain but did not worry about it. He concentrated his mind on the Grindylow.

I will not hurt you. I have no wand. I will let you go if you let me go.

The Grindylow maintained its grip and looked up at him, and their eyes met. Lupin began to chat with it as if it had dropped by for a social visit.

"You know, Frankenstein was right about one thing," he said to the Grindylow. "If he had created another creature, he could not be sure that it would be like the first, or want to be his partner. It was rather presumptuous of the creature to demand that Frankenstein make a partner for him. Frankenstein hardly even knew what he was doing." The Grindylow's grip seemed to relax a little, but they still eyed each other warily. "If I bit a woman and made her a werewolf, it would be a tragedy for her and for her family. She would have no more love for me than I have for the werewolf who bit me." The Grindylow released him and slid back into the stream. Lupin shook himself and made his way warily out of the forest. To his surprise he found that outside there was no wind. It had been the magic of the forest.

He made his way across the heath toward the coast, lost in thought. That Grindylow seemed rather wise. It seemed to want to correct him, when he had in fact been wrong. Maybe Grindylows were better-intentioned than wizards thought. Maybe they had been misunderstood. Were other Dark Creatures any darker than he was? He knew what it meant for him when students were taught to kill werewolves. He hoped he had encouraged his students to face such creatures with courage and confidence, not fear and loathing, and not to hurt them any more than was necessary for self-defense. He knew well that the most evil Dark Creatures, the ones that had no redeeming features, could not be defeated with violence but only with joy. When he taught the class again...no, of course not, he could never teach it again.

With such thoughts he reached the edge of the land and began to clamber down the rocks to a spot where he could sit and watch the crashing waves. Incoming waves swirled into eddies among the rocks and dumped seawater into pools, which gradually drained again after the water receded. In the distance the sea was a steely blue, but here among the rocks in the sunshine, where the depths of the water varied, it appeared in many beautiful shades of green and turquoise, crossed with ridges of foam. It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. He felt the sea was calling him to throw himself off the high rocks and merge with it in his death. He realized that, beautiful as it was, he must leave that place at once.

***

In the streets of London, Lupin pondered again what Gillyfeld had said to him. He knew that there was no future for him in the Muggle world. Could he possibly try again in the Wizarding World? Who would vouch for him? Dumbledore?

What could Dumbledore say? That he had gone out on a limb making special arrangements so that Lupin could attend the school without being dangerous, and later so that he could teach there, and that both times Lupin had violated the terms of those arrangements? That he had shown more confidence in Lupin than any other wizard ever would have, and that Lupin had kept dangerous secrets from him the whole time they had known each other? He had no other references, since no other wizards had ever wanted him to work for them. Oh, but he did have a personal reference, a dear old friend in the Wizarding World who was wanted so badly there for murder and Dark Wizardry that his face had even appeared on Muggle TV.

He had no work record. They would all know that he had been a werewolf since his youth, and would assume he had led a life of crime. The truth would do no more to recommend him. He would be arrested by the Ministry for violating the Wizarding Statute of Secrecy. They would arrest him anyway, because he had never registered as a werewolf in the Beast Division.

Maybe Gillyfeld was right that it was different for the newly bitten. If some employers looked the other way, they could keep their jobs and build up a work record. Perhaps, having income, they might eventually be able to buy the Wolfsbane Potion. But if he went back to suffer more rejection and humiliation, it would only confirm the view of the werewolves in the Den that they would suffer more if they tried to live like other humans. Lupin knew that for him it was too late.

Sometimes in parks he saw couples together on benches or walking hand in hand, people he knew would be together not for a night but perhaps for months or years, who could keep each other company without fear on every night of the month. He saw parents with their children, carrying them on their backs or pushing them in prams or calling out to them as they ran off to play. Lupin knew such things would never be for him.

They must have been far away, for Lupin was a wizard, but he did not see them. The light was not extinguished, the air did not become freezing cold, and he did not hear the rattling of their breath or feel its clammy chill on his skin. And if he knew, what memory did he have left for a Patronus?

The moment he found out Sirius was innocent? No, he must have known it all along, or his secrecy had put the school in deadly danger. He could not remember his happy nights with the Marauders without remembering his shame at the risk and at having betrayed Dumbledore's trust. He could not remember his happy days with his school friends without remembering how tragically those friendships had ended. There had been no happy moment with a woman that had not led to a heartbreak.

Perhaps he could have remembered seeing one student after another successfully confront a boggart in his class. Perhaps he could have remembered the moment at the Quidditch match when he had seen a Patronus erupt from Harry's wand. When it came to teaching, perhaps he had some memories that were not tarnished, for though he could add the loss of his post to all his other losses, he had given something to others that would always be with them. But he did not think to try, for he did not see the dementors.

Occasionally the landlady heard him sobbing in his room, and she thought she understood, for she had seen others in recovery, and knew how difficult it was for them to be on the wagon. She believed that he would pull through and that better things were around the corner for him. His thoughts were quite different, for something had shifted in his mind. He realized that, for the rest of his wretched life, he would probably do more harm than good, and that the time had come to end it.

It would be easy enough to do it in the Muggle world, where no one really knew him or cared, but he knew it would be seen as the cowardly cop-out of a depressed drunk, and it would set a bad example for all the other depressed drunks in town, most of whom had never killed anyone, and many of whom could be salvaged. If he did it in the Wizarding World it would confirm the deadly conviction of most of the werewolves that trying to live except as they did would make them unable to live with themselves. It also might sadden anyone there who had known him and remembered him. But he thought of Frankenstein and he had an idea.

The image that had at last fixed itself in Lupin's mind was not of the tormented Frankenstein or the tormented being to whom he gave life, but the scene of majestic sea ice and snow where their journey had ended, the final resting place for both of them. He had always known that if he tried to transform somewhere he could be sure to encounter no one, it would mean his death, for wherever humans could survive, there were humans. He could never stand the idea of burning up and dying of thirst in the middle of some vast desert. But the beautiful Arctic?

He always Apparated north anyway. He looked at the globe. He could not go there directly, but could manage it in stages, if he first went to Scotland, then to the Faeroe Islands, then to Iceland, and then the east coast of Greenland, which would be his final destination. Looking at other maps, he saw that there were still a couple of small Inuit settlements on the east coast of Greenland, but he would make it well above those. In Iceland he could equip himself with the right clothes to survive in the Arctic for a little while, and in fact he would only need a half hour or so. He would still need to Apparate, since on a broom the wind would freeze him, and he wanted to reach his planned destination.

If he disappeared at the full moon, it would bother no one, since he always did that anyway, and no one who knew would feel any responsibility. They would be glad to be rid of a werewolf. His body would never be found. They would suppose that he had met some fate befitting a Dark Creature. He would arrive there before his transformation, of course, since in his wolf state he would never go there.

He would have to plan it very carefully. He would have to know, on the date of his journey, where the edge of the Greenland Icepack was, and to figure out the exact latitude and longitude of his destination. He would need to find out the exact time and direction of the moonrise. He would make sure that conditions were clear on that site on that night, and if they were not, he would wait until another month. For there still was something he wanted to see before he died.

He wanted to see the full moon rising in all its beauty, reflected in the tranquil Arctic Ocean, and to see the Arctic ice and snow brilliantly illuminated by its light. And for the first time since he was a small child, he would see only its beauty, and have no fear. He would not fear the loss of control, because this time he would want to transform. Not the pain of his transformation, which would be little as he was freezing to death. Most importantly, he would not need to fear becoming a deadly danger to others, because he would know that he would never harm another living soul again. And he thought that perhaps in that last moment he would be forgiven.

He was not sure exactly for what, let alone by whom, he might expect to be forgiven. Perhaps at some time someone in the human world would notice that he was gone, and would forgive him as people do sometimes forgive the dead. In AA they always talked about connecting with a Higher Power, and if he could connect with one perhaps it would forgive him, for it would know what was in his heart.

He would wait until the kids were back in school, when there would be such a thing as a moonrise in the Arctic, and when he could contact Harry directly. If anyone knew how to reach Sirius, it would be Harry, and Lupin could not leave this world without saying goodbye to Sirius.

***

The days grew shorter, the breeze chillier, and soon it was starting to blow dead leaves around. Lupin knew that the kids were back in school, and that he could send an owl from Diagon Alley to Harry at Hogwarts. He would ask Harry to meet him in person, because whatever they called Sirius, Lupin did not think information about his whereabouts should be sent through the mail. He realized that he wanted to see Hermione too, because her knowledge and judgment were sometimes ahead of Harry's. And in that case he couldn't exclude Ron, because the three of them were inseparable.

Dear Harry,

I need to ask you something in confidence. Is there a time and place we can meet privately? Your two friends are welcome, but no one else.

Remus Lupin

The day after he mailed it, a big snowy owl tapped on Lupin's window. Lupin let it in quickly, but this time a Muggle was passing in the street below. He looked up and blinked, but Hedwig had disappeared, so he shook his head and continued on his way. Hedwig dropped a piece of parchment on Lupin's lap, but kept pecking at him until he pulled over a plate of sesame party snacks on a nearby table and popped a few in her mouth. He opened the note.

Dear Professor Lupin,

We would love to see you. Do you know a certain clearing among the beech trees in the southwest quarter of the Forbidden Forest? Would you like to meet us there Sunday at 7 a.m.? By some coincidence I think you know the place and that we know how to get there.

Harry

Lupin smiled, for he did indeed know the place, and Harry knew how to get there because he had the Marauder's Map, and there was a tunnel to the clearing off one of the tunnels that led from the school to the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Perhaps if he remembered giving the map back to Harry, and thought of all the things those intrepid kids might do with it, there was just a chance that he could have made a Patronus. But he did not try, for still he did not see the dementors.

***

Lupin was quite at home in the Forbidden Forest, and since he arrived in the clearing before the kids did, he took in the old sights, sounds, and smells with interest, and noticed the changes. After fifteen minutes or so they emerged from the tunnel and saw him.

"Professor Lupin!" said Harry and Hermione happily. Ron was still rubbing his eyes and seemed to be half-asleep.

"I have no such title," said Lupin sadly.

"What do you mean?" said Ron indignantly, coming to life. "You taught me to disable a boggart!"

"You taught me to make a Patronus," said Harry significantly.

"You'll always be Professor Lupin to us," said Hermione kindly.

He was touched by this accolade, but he addressed himself to Harry.

"I need to see Padfoot. Do you know where he is?"

Harry only hesitated for a few seconds, because if anyone could be trusted with this information, it was Lupin. "Do you know the mountains behind Hogsmeade?"

"I know them well," said Lupin with a wolf grin.

"Do you know a cave there?"

"There are a number of caves there."

"There's a big mountain northwest of the town. If you take the path up from the town side, when you get high enough there's a sort of shelf, which you can follow to the other side. There's a path up from there that passes a hidden cave, which you can reach through a fissure in the rock."

"Yes, I know the place. Thanks, Harry. Well, you children better run along now," he said, winking at them. "You're not supposed to be here, you know."

The kids stood there for a minute, for they had not expected the visit to be so short. But since it seemed that Lupin had nothing else to say, Ron waved goodbye and started back into the tunnel, muttering something about giant spiders. Hermione hesitated for longer, looking with concern at Lupin's face, but eventually she said goodbye and followed Ron. Harry still remained, and in that moment Lupin had the feeling that he had said or done something awful to Harry the previous year, something for which, in his last hour, he should apologize. He put a hand on Harry's arm and said "Harry, I--" but the words would not come. "Wish you luck in the tournament."

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Professor Lupin. I'll need it. I hope we'll see you again soon." He followed his friends into the tunnel.

The next time Lupin blinked, a tear fell down his face, for he had just figured out that if he carried out his intended purpose, he would never see those kids again.

***

Although battered, he was agile even in his human form, and he was used to scrambling over rocks, with or without a path. He easily reached the entrance to Sirius's cave. He poked his head in and saw the big black dog curled up on the floor.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he hissed in a raspy voice. The dog barked, jumped up, and turned around and into a man who pulled Lupin into his arms and then held him at arms length for a moment, looking at him.

"What was that supposed to be, Parseltongue? I'm a dog, not a snake, Moony."

"I didn't want to be overheard."

"This is an unexpected pleasure," he said, but looked a bit worried. "How did you find me? No one knows but the kids, do they?"

"No, no one knows. I asked Harry in person."

"Is anything new?"

Lupin hesitated. He couldn't tell Sirius what was new in his own mind. "I had to see you, because no one else loves me," he said, thinking this sounded pathetic.

"At least they don't think you're a mass murderer who betrayed your best friend," said Sirius with a scowl.

"No, they only think I'm a vicious, flesh-eating monster with a contagious condition."

The two men looked into each other's tired faces.

Sirius reached into a corner, produced two bottles of Butterbeer, and threw one to Lupin.

"Where did you get this?"

"The kids managed to bring me some stuff from Hogsmeade."

The two men suddenly smiled at each other and clinked bottles. Lupin sat down on the floor against the wall of the cave, and Sirius sat down next to him and put his arm around him.

"How've you been keeping, Moony? You never told me what you've been doing all these years."

"Whatever I could to get by. I've lived among Muggles a lot, pretending to be a Muggle magician, because I couldn't get work in the Wizarding World, and because Muggles don't believe in werewolves. When my time comes I Disapparate to the most remote part of Scotland, though I don't know whether that's far enough."

"It's getting near, isn't it? Last night the moon looked like it was almost full."

"Tonight."

Sirius suddenly perked up. "Hey Moony, can I come with you?"

Lupin shook his head. "It's too dangerous. You might get caught. And it might even be too harsh for a dog. I go to the Northwest Highlands."

"Dangerous? At least if you're with me, I can keep you away from people. I'm at least as hardy as any sheepdog in Scotland."

"You might not be able to control me by yourself anyway. It used to be both of you."

"I kept you from the kids that night at Hogwarts, didn't I?"

Lupin shuddered. "That was one time."

"That was a place of human habitation," said Sirius. "We won't be near people this time. Anyway, I can control you more than you can control yourself. Come on, Moony, it'll be just like old times. Moony and Padfoot. You won't have to worry for once. We'll have a ball. Just the two of us."

"I'm sorry, Padfoot. It's too dangerous. The place I go to has strange magic, and there are strange predators there, I feel it when I transform back. I'm not even sure a big dog would be safe all night there. A werewolf is very hard to kill, you know."

"So we don't have to go as far," said Sirius. "If you're with me, it doesn't have to be the Northwest Highlands." He squeezed Lupin's shoulder and said more quietly and cajolingly, "Come on, Moony. Just the two of us." Lupin was starting to wonder about the extent of Sirius's interest in him. After all, the man had been in solitary confinement for twelve years, maybe thirteen and counting. Then Sirius came out with a very infantile question.

"How come you get to risk your life, and I don't?"

"You have a choice, and I don't. Besides, you have someone here who needs you." And I don't, thought Lupin, but he did not say it aloud, because he did not want to sound as if he were asking for a contradiction.

He felt he had to bite the bullet. "Padfoot, you can't follow me where I'm going." But he could not tell Sirius the truth, for if he knew, Sirius would dog him at the risk of being caught, would dog him to the Arctic if it came to that. How could he say goodbye?

"I mean, I risk my life every time. If I should disappear--" But speaking the last word aloud, Lupin suddenly remembered something that he had strangely forgotten for months: Dumbledore's note.

Don't disappear, Remus. I may have work for you in the future that no one else can do.

"If you were with me, you wouldn't have to risk your life or disappear," said Sirius sulkily. "I'm big and furry. I could keep you warm when you transform back."

"Padfoot," said Lupin, glad to change the subject, "after I left Hogwarts, Dumbledore sent me a note saying he might have work for me in the future that no one else could do. Do you have any idea what he might have been talking about?"

"Maybe it has something to do with the epic battle between the forces of good and evil," said Sirius.

Lupin laughed. "And which side of that would I be on?"

Sirius frowned. "I'm not joking, Remus. A lot of people think Voldemort may come back. He was never really gone, you know. Harry confronted him in his first year, when he was possessing a teacher. And Sybil Trelawney made a prophecy--"

"Sybil Trelawney?"

"Harry said this one was different, that she wasn't like her usual self at all, and she didn't remember making it, so it wasn't a deliberate hoax. He said that when he told Dumbledore, Dumbledore took it seriously, and said it sounded like the second real prophecy she ever made."

"Do you know what it said?"

"It said he would come back, more terrible or powerful than before, or something like that. That his servant was leaving that night to join him."

Lupin started. "Was it that night? Do you think--?"

"Peter? Who knows? Voldemort has lots of servants, though the most loyal ones are in Azkaban. But you know a lot of the Death Eaters who recanted hadn't really changed their minds. They're afraid of his return, because he might kill them as traitors. But he can't kill all of them, or he wouldn't have enough followers."

"But where do I come in? What can I do, that no one else can do?"

Sirius withdrew his arm and looked at him. "You say you go to wild places. Do you always just Disapparate there, and Apparate back right away, or do you need to do any hiking in between? Do you spend any time in wild places?"

"I often hike quite far to get to a place to Disapparate, so as to be sure I'm not seen. After my episode, I may have to move out of danger, and sometimes I need to rest awhile before I have the strength to Apparate back."

"And when you leave for your little furry episode, do you take your wand?"

"Of course not. I'd lose it."

"So you wake up in some wild place without a wand, may have to scramble over rocks or through vegetation without a path, and maybe hang out for a few hours?"

"Yes."

"Do you know some wandless magic?"

"I know a lot of wandless magic. And even in my human form, my senses are keener than those of most humans. I feel more at home in the forest than they do."

"Exactly my point. And you've lived among wizards, among Muggles, and among werewolves, fitting in well enough to get by--to survive, at least. Remus, can't you see that you have skills that most wizards don't have? If Voldemort becomes more powerful than ever, Dumbledore will need all the help he can get."

Lupin was quiet.

"You always had--some kind of instinct," Sirius added.

"The instinct to keep my head down, and keep out of other people's disputes? The instinct to leave before I was chucked out? The instinct to let other people fight my battles for me? The instinct to suppress the truth from my conscious mind?"

"You sound as if you didn't hear a single word I said," said Sirius, and there was an anger in his tone that was beyond shouting.

But Lupin had heard what Sirius had said, and it had sunk in.

"Anyway," Sirius said, "what are you going to do until tonight?"

Lupin suddenly realized that it was urgent that he get some chocolate. He stood up. "I need to go to Hogsmeade for some chocolate." He also suddenly noticed how starved his friend looked, and wondered why he had not noticed before. "Sirius, I have to bring you some food," he said anxiously.

"Chocolate?" said Sirius, looking at him closely again. "Any food would be welcome, Remus."

Lupin was suddenly businesslike. "I have enough money to buy groceries in the town, and if anyone sees me leave town with them in a bag on my back, I'll just look like I've set off on a hike through the countryside. I'll come around the other side of the mountain, and I won't stick to any path. I have a light tread, and if anyone is following me, which is very unlikely, I'll hear them half a mile away. I'll Disapparate out of here." Without losing a minute, he Disapparated with a pop.

Arriving at the outskirts of Hogsmeade, he went immediately to Honeyduke's and bought two large hunks of chocolate, one for himself and one for Sirius, and also some dried fruit. He found a good-sized sack there suitable for carrying provisions on his back, because the sweet shop liked to encourage people to carry away as much as possible. He bit into his chocolate immediately and felt a cheering, warm sensation he knew well. Could it have been?...a chill fog seemed to be lifted from his mind and his thoughts became clearer. Sirius could starve. Sirius needed him.

He sought food that would pack high calorie content in a relatively small space. He went to the Three Broomsticks pub, which also sold food, and picked up some savory meat pies, oatcakes, apples, and a large bag of shelled chestnuts. He set off and made it back to the cave with his bundle, which he deposited at Sirius's feet.

"Best I could do, old chum. My time approaches."

Though he was ravenous, Sirius only glanced at the bag, and turned his hungry eyes on his friend. "You will come back, won't you, Remus? I will see you again, won't I?"

"Yes, you will," said Lupin, and he was not lying.

The two men embraced again and Sirius was surprised that Lupin, who was usually less demonstrative, squeezed him for a moment as if hanging on for dear life before regaining his usual composure.

"Nice seeing you, Padfoot. Take care."

"I'm glad you came, Remus."

"Me too." And Lupin turned on his heel and was gone.