Epoch of Wisdom

Nathan White stared at the ceiling. There was an interesting crack in it. Kind of looked like Great
Britain, if you squinted. And that one over in the corner looked like his aunt Angie. And the one above
the ugly portrait looked like a big balloon.

He rolled over, away from the crowd around the bed next to him. Looking at the smiling children, the
concerned wife, the gathering of friends, that man who didn't know the meaning of "leave me
alone"...Well, it would help if he didn't look at it

His eyes fell on a small card on the night stand. It had two broomsticks intertwined on the front with a
cartoon heart beating above. He knew the words inside by heart now. Mark- The Chief Healer said
that you should be left alone for the adjustment period, and that you needed to be ready for your
therapy session at one, but I did want to come see you. I have so much I need to talk to you
about, too much for a greeting card. Christmas won't be the same without you. Love, Laura.

Why did this happen to him? To him, of all people. My god, his career was just getting off the ground.
Val had called two weeks ago; Victor Nebulous was producing Parting of the Wands, and had
wanted him for David. It was to be at the celebrated Malecrit Theater. He had been planning on
proposing to Laura. He'd had the ring - he'd had the ring custom made, in fact. It had been a good
chunk out of his paycheck, but the matter was important enough to transcend Galleons and Sickles.

And now. Stuck in a stupid hospital ward with impossibly cheerful victims of magical bites. And
worrying relatives, afraid that their precious ones would be bitten two weeks before the full moon.

"A werewolf? Is he safe in a public ward? Shouldn't he be in a private room?

I'm only a danger around idiots like you, he thought savagely.

"Lycanthropy, mercifully, isn't a disease that will conflict with most of your activities. You can
still do many of the same things. You can still keep a job, you can still live in your house. You
will have to register, of course, and you'll have to be evaluated on a yearly basis. The
evaluations..."

He had tuned out Healer Smethwyck at that point. Sure. A normal life. Except for the fact that it
would be much harder for him to keep employment with the big red "W" on his papers. Except for the
fact that his rent would probably be raised to compensate for any potential danger.

Except for the fact that he wasn't considered human anymore...

"You're not doomed to suffering and everlasting torment, you realise. There's a young man I
know, quite a pleasant fellow, who can manage very well..."

"I'll give you another bite if you don't bloody shut up"Nathan had snapped in response. He had
no use for anecdotes.

How could his life be ruined by a simple moonlit stroll in the forest, rummaging around for character
ideas? "Out of innocent purpose comes dark deed." Who had said that? He remembered it from a
production a while ago...Ah, yes. Spirals. Jonathan Wiffle. First performed in 1897 at the Malecrit
Theater.

Malecrit - new play - lost chance...

Oh, hell. It was impossible to keep his mind off the fact that he was sitting in a creaky hospital bed,
recovering from a cursed bite, utterly alone on Christmas Day. It was like he was in a separate room
from the rest of them. His room didn't have cheery wooden paneling and a crowd of people fussing
over him. His room had a tiny window and dingy walls stretching to the top of the sky, cutting him off
from the rest of the world. Grubby bricks stacked miles high. Dark as his future.

There was a loud shriek from the crowd around the bed. One of the men in the nearby throng glanced
up. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at him. Nathan felt himself stiffen, and could feel a
prickling on the back of his neck. Rather odd, since the man didn't look all that threatening. Shabby, if
truth be told. But there was something about him, something that didn't quite have a name, that made
him edgy.

The man walked over to his bed. "Hello," he said. His voice was mild and pleasant, with just a slight
hoarse sound to it. But why was he coming over here? Surely someone would have informed him that
there was a werewolf in the vicinity - nobody wanted to come into much contact with that sort. As he
thought it, he felt a twisting in his stomach.

"Look, I don't know who you are. So why don't you go cheer up the other man?"

The man said nothing, just looked at him and raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. Inwardly, Nathan
sighed. He didn't know what was worse - the ones who were outright hateful, like the woman in the
next bed, or the ones who thought they could help, who filled you up with meaningless words, who
thought they could advise you and hadn't the foggiest notion what they were talking about. Perhaps this
man was one of them. Hopefully, a simple chat would set him straight.

"Are you another one of those Healers that are trying to 'help' me? Because if you are, you can leave.
I'm not in the mood to ponder the consequences of my existence, thanks. Don't you have your own
life to attend to?"

Most people would have gotten the hint and hastily departed with a few quick words of consolation,
not wanting to rouse a wolf's temper. Which is also pretty stupid, come to think of it, he reflected. I
can't bite anyone now. This man was different.

"A hostile attitude tends to hold you back more than any condition you might have, especially around
those willing to help," the man replied calmly.

"I don't need your help."

Again, that unnerving gaze. Why wouldn't he leave him alone? Nathan didn't need to be reminded of
what he was. It was Christmas, for God's sakes - the worst Christmas of his life. He didn't need
seasonal sympathy, didn't need sugary sweetness, didn't need strange visitors ready to "advise" him.
He needed to be left alone. He needed space, he needed solitude. Why did nobody understand that?
Why didn't anyone understand anything? Why did they pretend to try? He felt his fists clench. They
didn't know a damn thing, none of them!

"I wouldn't be that extreme," said a dry voice. It was the man. He must have said the last part aloud.
Wonderful. Now he would just get more fussy Healers trying to soothe him. Just what he needed.
"It's hard. Hard for anyone to understand what it's like." His face grew thoughtful. "Even if they have
an idea, even if they see your pain, even if they can hear what - what you go through...it's still hard for
them not to be afraid. Even then, they never..." He trailed off. His face looked oddly pained, but
somehow wistful.

Who was this man?

"You might have heard of me. My name is Remus Lupin."

Remus Lupin. An article from the Daily Prophet a year and a half ago...Eccentric headmaster Albus
Dumbledore exhibits more of his famed quirky behavior...recently revealed to the students that
their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin, was in fact a Dark Creature himself.
And a more recent one...the hiring of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid, and
delusional ex-Auror 'Mad-Eye' Moody. So this was him. Hardly the terrifying figure he'd imagined
when he first read the articles.

Why was he here, though? He'd gotten the impression that werewolves kept to themselves. But
wolves were pack creatures, weren't they? He rubbed his forehead. Everything was so new; the rules
of his life had been abandoned, straight, clear lines to be replaced with a jumbled heap of new codes.

"I've heard of you." What else could he say?

The man - Remus Lupin - gave a brief nod and looked at the card on his night stand. Oh, no, don't let
him see that...

"Who gave you that card? I like the pattern on the front."

"Laura. My - fiancee." Or would be, if I wasn't in here...

Again, Lupin glanced at him. "She's not allowed to see you, I suppose."

Nathan began to nod, then stopped himself. Why should he pour out everything to this man? He
wasn't even a Healer, just a curious spectator.

But there was something about him, something that said he would offer a sympathetic ear...

A nice change from normal...

"It...probably won't work, anyway."

"Why do you say that?"

So much for a sympathetic ear. Did he have to spell out everything? Bloody hell, Lupin was a
werewolf. He'd read the Code of Conduct, hadn't he? He'd seen the section about familial relations.
He remembered Smethwyck giving a small cough and showing that section to him when he'd mentioned
Laura. "Before applying for a marriage license, werewolves are required to submit to a six-month marital counseling program provided by the Werewolf Registry, and must submit to a
license renewal, with a special focus on Potential Threat Level. Werewolves also must have
their place of transformation assessed by the Registry, and must supply the names and Floo
Network Numbers of those who provide them with the Wolfsbane Potion. Finally, werewolves
must sign a document giving full legal custody of any offspring to the non-afflicted spouse."

Well, he doubted Laura would want to marry him after that. Was it any wonder they said he was
becoming more unmanageable? " Take away any sign of a man's freedom, and he is reduced to an
animal". Livia Syringa, The Willow Rod.

"Because it's true. Section 4A, The Werewolf Code of Conduct. I had to read the damn thing, so I'm
assuming you did, too." He turned to face the wall once more.

"It does not prevent you from marriage. And I think that all couples should go through premarital
counseling. Must ask Arthur to mention that to the Minister." Lupin's voice was crisp.

"Yeah. I really suppose someone would want to marry a part-human. Is that the term they use now?
Or is it just beast? And I'd just love someone to assess my Potential Threat Level. What a way to
brighten up my resume," Nathan snapped. He could feel his barrier of sarcasm rising again, and he
didn't care. In the same situation, would this man pour out his life's troubles to a stranger?

Impossible.

"As a matter of fact," Lupin said, "I ran into a young lady in the lobby. She looked frustrated -
apparently they refused her access to a patient. She was holding a package, and when she saw what
ward I was visiting, she asked me to give it to a Mr. Nathan White." He fished inside his coat pocket,
and pulled out a brightly-colored box.

He was afraid to open it. He didn't want to consider who had really sent it, whether it really came from
her. He set the box aside.

He opened his mouth to ask "How did you know it was me?" then thought better of it - there were only
two other people in the room, one of whom Lupin knew, and as for the other one...well, "Mr. Nathan"
certainly wasn't a woman's name.

"Nathan White. Your name sounds familiar. Were you by any chance in a show a few months ago at
Oeste End? It was very interesting. Everything onstage floated..."

"Théâtre de Leviosa. Yes, I was in that as Willard. He was the henpecked husband." Fond memories
surfaced. That had been a fun show, even if it was near impossible to move onstage under the charm.
"The director was insane. We practiced Wingardium Leviosa more than we ran lines."

"Did that ever turn out to be a problem?"

"Only on opening night. Bernadette - she plays Flotilla - forgot the monologue she has in the middle of
the party sequence. Our stage manager, Travers, had to do a quick Memory Sharpening Charm.
Luckily, it wasn't too noticeable from the audience's perspective."

"Travers?" asked Lupin. "Ned Travers? Was he small, with large tufts of black hair?"

"Yeah, that's him. Do you know him?"

"I taught him in his seventh year at Hogwarts. He helped me fix my desk after two notorious pranksters
by the name of Weasley thought it would be - interesting - to place a vial of diluted Erumpent
Exploding Fluid in my desk." He looked faintly amused. "Rather brilliant, how they managed to get it
and make it reasonably safe."

"Weasley? Are they relatives of Charlie Weasley?"

"His younger twin brothers. You're about his age, aren't you?"

"He was a year ahead of me. Everybody knew Charlie Weasley. He was legendary." Nathan stared
ahead, thinking of the spectacular triumph of Gryffindor over Slytherin in his fifth year.

For the first time in their conversation, Nathan sat up. "If you really want to know, he inspired me to
do what I do, in his own way."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's hard to explain." He found himself more engaged in talking, more engaged than he had
been for almost two weeks. "I just saw his energy out there. The intensity, the skill, the focus...I
wanted that. I wanted to be that disciplined, that devoted to what I did. I wanted people to feel that
way about me, I wanted them to see me do something that they hadn't ever imagined.. I wanted them
to get caught up." His voice faded as he had yet another rude awakening. "Useless now, of course."

"Now that," said Lupin quietly, but with enough force that Nathan leaned in closer, "is where you are
mistaken. Have you ever read anything by a Muggle author, fairly well known, named Charles
Dickens?"

Nathan nodded. Where was he going with this?

"One of his more famous works was A Tale of Two Cities. The opening lines of this book, I think,
speak for themselves." He looked straight at him and recited.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of
foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light,
it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had
everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all
going direct the other way..."

Nathan laid back down. What did they mean?

"I won't deny that you will face challenges. Prejudice, bigotry, well-meaning people who do more
harm than good. But it's the most interesting thing - you'll find those who truly care for you as well.
And they will help you turn your life into the best of times."

As if on cue, the redheaded woman standing beside the next bed called, "Remus, can you help me find
Harry, Ron, and Hermione? They aren't in the hall outside, and they shouldn't be wandering about on
their own...Harry and Hermione haven't been here before, and even Ron could get lost easily...and I
distinctly told him to stay put..."

"I'm coming, Molly." He gestured towards the package. "You might want to open that soon."

With a nod, he turned and left.

Nathan reached for the package and opened it, his fingers shaking. He felt a lump in his throat as he
looked inside. Tiny marshmallow snowmen humming "Silent Night" stood in front of a gingerbread
frosting as...he bent in closer...two happy figures stood in front of a chocolate-brick fireplace. The man
had dark hair, and the woman was resting contentedly in his arms. Above the house, Happy
Christmas, Nathan was charmed.

His eyes felt blurry as he clutched the little house close to his heart, suddenly not so alone after all.