A Year in the Life of a Wizarding Werewolf

A Year in the Life of a Wizarding Werewolf

- Que sera, sera

It would appear that time had acquired an entirely different pace over the new year. Upon their return to Hogwarts following the Christmas vacation, the weeks seemed to whip past at such a rate, the weekends were upon them before one had realised it was Monday. For the fifth and seventh year students, this meant that the vague acknowledgement harboured at the start of the year that they faced important end-of-the-year exams, were fast becoming a brutal and frenzied realisation.

Remus was feeling the (admittedly mostly self-inflicted) strain of the enormous piles of homework, the towering stacks of reading material and the vast amount of facts he had yet to commit to memory, but he wasn't feeling it nearly as much as Peter was. Peter could often be found hunching over reams of parchment on which copious notes were scrawled, seizing tufts of his hair as he struggled to memorise treaty dates and clauses, or differentiate between the uses of moonstone, boomslang skin and salamander liver. James and Sirius, however, remained in high spirits, annoyingly nonchalant about the forthcoming OWLs.

"It's not fair," moaned Peter to Remus one night, observing James and Sirius having a round of Quirky Quidditch with a mixture of envy and longing. Quirky Quidditch was an athlete's version of wizard chess the two of them had devised themselves using James's model of the Quidditch pitch, whereby each player attempted to direct their own team of enchanted figurines to a match victory. "How come I am having so much trouble with all this work, while they go and play Quidditch and still know everything? I'm not really so hopeless, am I?

"Of course not. James and Sirius are the cleverest wizards in our year," Remus reminded him. "It's a pretty lofty standard for you to compare yourself to. Besides," he went on, gesturing around the room where numerous other Gryffindors were poring over thick textbooks, "they are more the exception. We are normal. I think you are doing really well," he added encouragingly.

"Charms is getting better, and Transfiguration," agreed Peter.

"There you go then."

"But Potions is dismal, and I'll never get my head round these dates for the History of Magic!" wailed Peter, his voice rising hysterically.

"Calmly does it," said Remus soothingly. "You never thought you'd ever get the hang of transfiguration, yet look at you now, an Animagus." He grinned. "Besides, you might not being doing Potions or the History of Magic for your NEWTs. Here," he handed Peter a box of sugar mice. "Have some of these to take your mind of those Hinkypunks for a while."

As if the concern of the impending examinations was not taxing enough, a notice appeared on the common room boards one morning, just prior to the Easter break.

CAREERS ADVICE

All fifth-years are required to attend a brief session with their respective Head of House during the first week of the summer term to discuss their future careers and to receive advice on their selection of relevant NEWT subjects to be undertaken. Times of individual appointments are listed below.

"I haven't really given my future career much thought yet," moaned Gertrude.

"That's maybe the reason why we were given these, I'd say," said Karla, picking up a pamphlet from one of several bundles of neatly stacked leaflets and flyers on a table nearby.

Remus cast his eye over the table, taking in the enthusiastic proclamations and alluring recruitment promises of various careers, flashing in the headings of the pamphlets. He had given the subject much thought even as early as over the summer holidays. He and his mother both. And they found that being a werewolf caused Remus to come up against a brick wall more often than having a criminal track record. There were several career paths Remus would be interested in, but chances were, unless the Ministry of Magic appeased the clause against werewolves in employment, it would seem highly unlikely Remus found himself a job following his completion at Hogwarts.

"I wonder how it'd be like to work in the Department of Mysteries," Peter said, leafing through a pamphlet distributed by the Ministry of Magic. "It would be rather cool to be an Unspeakable, don't you think?"

"Um," replied Remus dully.

"C'mon," pressed Peter, his eyes still scanning the leaflet, oblivious to the resigned gloominess that had befallen his friend. "Given your ability to keep secrets and remain unruffled at all times, it would be perfect for you, no?"

Remus shrugged to no one in particular as Wormtail continued his reading of the requirements listed for the job of an Unspeakable. Peter took his silence as disinterest.

"Something else then? Don't tell me He-who-is-most-organised-and-has-picked-his-NEWT-classes-at-age-two hasn't given a thought about his career."

"I-- " began Remus wearily, then stopped. He felt a little too drained to divulge in the problems he and his mother had encountered over the summer. "I don't believe that certain parts of my- my-- personality would be compatible with employment at the Ministry," he finished quietly, but in a firm tone indicating he wished to discuss it no further.

It took Peter several seconds to digest what he had just said, before acknowledging the unspoken request understandingly. There was a mixture of pity and guilt in his eyes, as if he felt responsible for his friend's bleak predicament. Of course he isn't, Remus told himself. No one's responsible. You can't blame people for being wary of employing a werewolf. It's an additional hazard they can do away with by employing the many others available for the job. You just have to cope with it. Be happy with what you do have, and then deal with the rest.

A soft, timid voice cut in through his thoughts. "Anyone would be losing out not employing you. Maybe you should get a job at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Then you can work to overturn the clause pertaining to discrimination against employment of werewolves."

Despite knowing laws and reinforcements were a lot more complicated and tightly regulated to be over-turned single-handedly, Remus couldn't help being extremely touched by Peter's idealistic suggestion.

* * *

Remus's appointment with Professor McGonagall was scheduled for Wednesday morning at half past ten. It meant missing Potions, which Remus was not at all sorry about, despite knowing he probably needed all the Potions time he could get if he hoped to pass the OWL reasonably well.

In the week leading up to the advisory sessions, the fifth years engrossed themselves in trying to decide on careers that they may find suitable. This brought about the cold reality that they needed some rather extraordinary results in their NEWTS in two years' time if they wished to be involved in the more prestigious vocations such as Healing, or if they harboured hopes of working for the Ministry or becoming an Auror.

"Goodness, you need to get 'Exceeds Expectations' in just about everything if you want to work in St. Mungo's," exclaimed Caitlin, looking at the pamphlet bearing the crossed bone-and-wand emblem of the hospital.

"Not everything," said Lily, peering over her shoulder. "Just Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Nearly everything," Caitlin argued back. "And need I remind you that you need an 'E' or an 'O' in the OWLs just to get into the NEWT classes for those subjects?"

"Um-hm," said Lily absently. "I would like to be a Healer though," she said, as she reached and picked up one of the leaflets for herself.

Remus could almost see James's ears prick up at her sentence.

"Don't tell me you are even thinking of it," said Sirius in a low voice as he observed his friend's attention suddenly directed towards the St. Mungo's brochure. "Whatever happened to being a Chaser for the Chudley Cannons? Your hopes of giving them their first victory in, like, several centuries?"

James, fixing his gaze on Lily, allowed the playful jibe at his favourite Quidditch team to float over his head before replying vaguely, "I can do both, you think?"

Peter snorted. "In your dreams, mate. Have you seen the hours those Healers work? You'd need a Time Turner to do both." He stopped abruptly, hoping he hadn't planted any ideas into James's head.

He breathed a sigh of relief as James turned to them and grinned, saying, "Maybe she can be a Healer for the Chudley Cannons. I wouldn't mind getting injured if it means being cared for by her."

Remus groaned, shaking his head in his hands. Sirius rolled his eyes and changed the subject.

"What about being an Auror? It says here you need three extra years of training and examinations before you can even get started on the job. You need five NEWTs of an 'E' standard before they even think of letting you in for training."

"You would get that no problem," said Peter enviously, but not without a tinge of bitterness showing through. "Unlike some of us," he muttered in a low voice.

Remus wrapped his arms round Peter's shoulder, giving him a supportive hug.

"Yeah, I guess," said Sirius casually, unaware of the underlying tone in Peter's voice, nor catching the low utter at the end. "What about you, Wormtail? What were you thinking of?"

Peter shrugged indifferently. "Dunno. Everything requires so much. Everything I would be interested in, I mean."

"So?" asked Sirius. "What's there to stop you?"

"Just barely managing to scrape an 'A' in Potions and History of Magic for one thing!" Peter replied shortly.

"You've still got a couple of months to pull up that grade," said Remus gently. He could see that Peter was getting agitated and surmised that it was not only the high qualifications required, but also late nights and seemingly unending conveyer belt of homework that was contributing to Wormtail's snappish behaviour.

"Yeah," said James, turning round to face Peter. "Stop admitting defeat before you even begin the battle. It's all up here," he said, tapping him on the head. "You need to believe in yourself more, Wormtail. You can do it. If you want anything, really want anything, badly enough, you will get it. Look, I'll help you with Potions," he offered. "And Remus here will lend you those History of Magic notes from class, right Moony?"

As the appointed sessions with Professor McGonagall went in alphabetical order, Sirius was the first of the four to meet with her to discuss his future. He disappeared through the backdoor of the greenhouses partway through Herbology on the Monday afternoon, and made his way up towards the castle for his appointment. The others didn't hear from him until dinnertime when they caught up with him in the Gryffindor common room where they had gone off to put down their bags before proceeding to the Great Hall.

"So, how was it?" asked Peter, depositing his satchel by the table they always used for their homework.

"It went okay. She gave me a lecture about closing doors quietly first of all, because I kinda slammed the door shut as I went in," said Sirius, setting down a couple of brochures that Professor McGonagall had given him on the table. "By accident," he added quickly. "Anyway, she just tells you what you need to take for your NEWTs and what grades you need in those. Also what you need to get in your OWLs before they let you into the NEWT classes here."

Remus offhandedly picked up the leaflets Sirius had just placed down.

"What did you tell her you wanted to do?" Peter went on, wanting to ascertain the course of the interview so he could figure out how to best prepare for it.

"Well, first of all, I told her I wanted to give everything a try. Just for the sake of experiencing it all. Actually, I seriously wouldn't mind that. You got a life, live it. But she just gave me one of those looks that she has."

"I wonder why," Peter quipped, as Sirius went on.

"She wasn't amused with my saying I wanted to work in the Department of Regulation and Misuse of Muggle Artefacts either. At least not after I let slip I wanted to enchant motorcycles to fly across the sky in place of broomsticks."

"How utterly unreasonable of her," said Remus, his tone deadpan, as he skimmed through the leaflet he was holding. "Hey!" Impassiveness gone, he seized Sirius in the elbow as he spotted something circled in red ink. "I never realised you were that interested in becoming an Auror!"

"Well, I am," replied Sirius, a steadfast glow now evident in his eyes. "I want to do something Moony, something meaningful and beneficial that will be of use to people," he said vehemently. "And what more than a career in catching dark wizards and criminals? Especially with this Dark Lord, Voldemort, on the rise. If he is really the Muggle, half-breed hater he is claimed to be, I want rid of him. This whole bigoted Muggle-born intolerance is a cauldron of bullshit! We are never going to get anywhere with this crap going on. The sooner we rid of it, the better."

There was a stunned silence. Remus had often witnessed heated outbursts from Sirius before, but they had never been anything more than venting about the slimeball Snape or the pretentious Black family. He had never seen Sirius so wholly impassioned and solemn over any matter.

James raised his eyebrows. "You do realise that even if you capture this Voldemort guy, that there will always be others coming up to fill the void?"

"And you also realise that people, and especially those in politics, aren't always divided into Aurors and Dark wizards?" asked Remus.

"I know," said Sirius, as a pained expression clouded his face. "But I can't not do something. Especially if I am not allowed to fly enchanted Muggle motorcycles." He gave them a feeble grin. "If this Dark Lord is indeed gathering his minions, I want to be around to thwart his intentions. Be the next Mad-Eye."

This time, it was Peter who raised his eyebrows, but before he could say anything, Sirius plundered on, ignoring the rather taken-aback, yet awed, expressions of his friends.

"And you know what? You know those History of Magic notes you lent me, Moony? You know what they say? They say the wrong people are captured all the time!" Remus nodded in grave silence. "They say that very often, completely innocent people are captured and imprisoned without trial, while the guilty ones roam free. That is so completely unacceptable!"

"You really think you can change all that?" asked Peter tentatively, with a hint of astonishment coming through. "It is the whole justice system you are talking of fighting against!"

"You have to start somewhere," contended Sirius, in the same ardent tone. "The Aurors are those who do the capturing. They should have some responsibility over whom they catch. It is a man's life you are talking about being allowed to waste away. Can you imagine an entirely innocent man being sent away to Azkaban? To have to face those Dementors? To have every smidgen of happiness drained away, and eventually have his soul sucked out of him?"

A cold zephyr seemed to sweep across and chill the room. Remus shuddered.

"That'd be dreadful," agreed Peter in a faint whisper, echoing what was on Remus's mind.

There was a contemplative silence. Then James cleared his throat.

"I get where you are coming from, Padfoot ole pal, I really do," he began in what he would hope to be an ingenuous voice. "But don't you think that is a bit too naïve?"

"Yeah," sighed Sirius, looking down at his palms. "McGonagall told me I was 'being this exuberant, ambitious teenager whose idealistic dreams are not going to be fully plausible in an avaricious adult world'. She was fine with the me wanting to be an Auror part. She just told me not to get my hopes up for the extermination of Dark wizards, and the complete reassessment of the jurisdiction system. At least not in this lifetime."

"McGonagall's right, mate," said James, after an awkward silence. "All's not fair in politics and wr."

"But the world really should have more people like you," added Remus, as they headed out of the portrait hole and towards the Great Hall.

After dinner, the four of them converged round the table where they had left their schoolbags earlier on, and settled down to start on their homework. They must have worked solidly for a couple of hours when James shifted about restlessly and started to rock precariously back and forth on the chair's legs.

"I'm bored," he announced, and whipped out his wand from the folds of his robes. "Glimmerondus!" he said, giving his wand a twirl.

A cloud of shimmering specks of coloured light materialised and swirled round to form a small globe in midair.

"Cool!" laughed Sirius. "Here, let me."

He pulled out his own wand and steadily directed it to the ceiling of the common room, as the other Gryffindors who were gathered in the room looked on in amusement. Then, whipping his wand in a whirling motion with his wrist, he Magicked the Glitterball to rotate on its own axis from its position in the middle of the ceiling. Multi-coloured lights spun around the common room as several people whooped in delight. Padraig O'Connor pulled Jean Talbert to her feet and started doing a foxtrot with her in the middle of the room, eliciting more squeals of merriment from the rest. Sirius cheered and waved his wand about recklessly, forgetting for the moment he was controlling the Glitterball with it. The ball began to spin wildly out of control, then zoomed crazily around the common room as people dodged behind armchairs and ducked under tables, shrieking, in an attempt to avoid a collision with the rogue Glitterball. Cursing under his breath, Sirius scrambled out from between two bookcases, his wand raised in readiness to freeze the Glitterball.

"Impedi-"

He was drowned out by another voice emanating from the other end of the common room.

"Disparatu!"

A jet of blue light shot across the room and hit the Glitterball just before it could crash into the leg of the table upon which stacks of Remus's books and parchments were piled several feet high. A burst of multi-coloured sparks sizzled in the air before scattering as dust onto the rug spread across on the common room floor.

A hush immediately replaced the previous riotous atmosphere in the room. Stood at the portrait hole of the Gryffindor common room was a stoned-faced Lily Evans, who appeared to have just returned from the library, her bag crammed full to bursting with heavy textbooks.

"What was that?" she asked, cantankerously.

"A Glitterball," replied James, sitting up straight in his chair and fiddling around with his robes rather self-consciously. "You conjure one up, see, and swirl it around. It then causes multi-coloured shimmery lights to revolve round the room. It really is very cool, you know," he added, as Lily cast him a withering look.

"It wasn't done very well then, was it," she commented acidly. "What I saw was far from being a swirling ball of shimmering multi-coloured lights."

"It was working!" cried Sirius defensively.

"So was the Titanic," Lily retorted cuttingly. "If I could, I would be deducting five points off Gryffindor for this. You could have destroyed that table with all the books and homework!"

Sirius gave an indignant huff, crossed his arms in front of his chest and sunk down sulkily in his chair. "So was the Titanic," he mimicked tetchily as Lily joined Karla Dobbyn and Caitlyn Orr by the fireside. "What's the bloody Titanic anyway?"

"It's a Muggle ship," replied Remus, secretly applauding the remark his fellow prefect had made. "A really famous one. Probably the most famous one of the lot."

"Really?" asked Sirius. "Why? For being the fastest or something?"

"For sinking."

"Oh."

"How do you know all this Muggle stuff anyway?" asked Peter. "You are like the walking encyclopaedia of Muggle information."

"I read. And absorb," answered Remus serenely.

Wednesday morning, Remus parted ways with the others as they turned down the corridor that led to the dungeons, and hurried off to fulfil his appointment with Professor McGonagall.

"Come in," her crisp voice sounded through the closed door.

Remus nervously pushed the heavy door open and slipped in quietly. Then, recalling Sirius's experience on Monday, grasped onto the door handle on the inside of room to avoid the door banging shut noisily.

Professor McGonagall observed him closing the door gently and sniffed. "At least I see you are taking lessons from Mr Black," she said, gesturing to an empty seat positioned across from her table. "Sit down, Lupin."

Remus sat down, trying to quell his nervousness by focusing his eyes on the pamphlets that littered the Professor's desk and gripping his thumbs to prevent his hands from shaking. He wasn't sure if Professor McGonagall could see past his usually quiet, assiduous manner he displayed in class and glimpse the uncertainties he had of his future. If she didn't, he wasn't sure of how to even broach the topic with her should she ask him about his thoughts on the matter.

"Well," began Professor McGonagall briskly, "you know this meeting is to discuss any career ideas you might have, and to assist you in deciding which subjects you should choose to continue with for your NEWTs."

Remus nodded.

"Have you considered what you might like to do when you have finished school?"

Remus swallowed hard and tried to clear his throat. "Er," he began, feeling at odds as to how to begin stating potential problems he might encounter with his job searching. He squirmed uncomfortably as Professor McGonagall studied him intently for several long moments. When she spoke, her tone of voice was a lot unlike what Remus was used to. Instead of its usual crispness and sternness, it was almost soft and understanding.

"I doubt if I need to perhaps tell you that you might come across some- some- difficulties - when applying for certain jobs that may be on offer?" she asked quietly.

Remus glanced at her quickly, before giving a half-shrug in an effort to appear less pessimistic about the topic.

"Well, it's a bit more, er, complicated, than what some others may have to face," he admitted finally, after another awkward lull. "But I expected that," he added hurriedly, a little bit more loudly, and sounding (unintentionally) bordering on defiant. "I mean," he went on, lowering his voice, realising how he must have come across, "I didn't expect me to have it easy applying for jobs, Professor."

Professor McGonagall continued to survey him through her square-rimmed spectacles before nodding curtly. "I did figure that you would know," she said, half to herself. "Well," she went on, in a louder, brisker voice that sounded more like her usual tone, "just because some employers may place restrictions on their choices for employees doesn't mean you can't give it your best shot. Have you given any thoughts as to what you would be interested in, personal problem aside?"

Remus drew a deep breath. He had, of course, given his future a lot of thought. But all his career aspirations did sound so improbable, he didn't wish for Professor McGonagall to either state outright to him with certitude that it was not feasible, nor did he wish for her to inwardly sigh regretfully and pity him for not ever receiving the chance to develop a career.

"Well," prompted Professor McGonagall, as she waited for Remus to gather his thoughts.

"I- I did think of wanting to be Healer," Remus blurted out. "But," he went on, before Professor McGonagall could reach out for the pamphlet with the bone-and-wand emblem, "they need an Exceeds Expectations in five NEWTs including Potions. And I doubt if I would be able to obtain that."

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips thoughtfully. "True, you have always seemed to struggle with Potions, Lupin," she mused, as she pulled out a piece of parchment containing some notes in what Remus recognised as Professor Sharkhorn's handwriting. She didn't say so, but Remus was quite positive that she was also thinking that St Mungo's would hardly hire a werewolf to look after its patients.

"Have you thought about working within the Ministry?" she asked.

"Yes, Professor," answered Remus. "But I doubt if they would be open to hiring a wer - someone like me - to work for them either. I had considered working in the Department of Mysteries, or as an Auror..." he trailed off.

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at the mention of the word 'Auror'. "I see," she said, still gazing intently at Remus. "Mr Black too, seemed highly keen in pursuing a career in the Auror department. Though I guess you would know yourself already. He was unusually adamant about enforcing the rights of all wizards," she placed emphasis on the word 'all', and then gave Remus the briefest of shrewd smiles. "You have some good friends, Lupin."

Remus returned the Professor's smile and said stoutly. "Yes, I know."

"I suppose we'd better get on with our discussion," Professor McGonagall's voice returned once more to its brusque, curt tone. "I suppose given that your circumstances are more - unusual, it might be better if you pick a more diverse, and well-rounded set of subjects for your NEWTs." She pulled out a sheet of parchment on which all the subjects Hogwarts offered were listed. "Hmmm," she said as her eyes flickered up and down the page. "You should probably keep up Transfiguration, it is a subject which is required for many careers. You should know that I only accept students who have achieved Exceeds Expectations or higher in their OWLs for my NEWT classes. You are averaging between Acceptable and that, so I should say just a little bit more work should do it. Charms is always useful. I see Professor Flitwick has consistently given you an 'E' so I gather you would fare well in obtaining a place in his class next year as well."

Her eyes continued to scan down the sheet of parchment. "Defence Against the Dark Arts, you have an aptitude for. I see Professor Quirrell has been awarding you with Outstanding for the most part. That would be a subject you would be keen to keep up, correct?"

Remus nodded at once. It was a subject he had never had the intention to drop.

"Arithmancy, useful if you wish to develop a career in banking. Gringott's does offer some package deals for employees that can be quite appealing."

Remus bit his lip slightly and tried to bar himself from shrugging indifferently. He wasn't that fanatical about working in a bank, but it might become an option. And being a werewolf, those were few and far between, so he had to stop being too fastidious. He didn't want to appear rude or unappreciative in front of Professor McGonagall, who was doing her best to work round his lycanthropy as she considered the career choices that might be open to him.

"And there's Potions," finished Professor McGonagall, looking up from the parchment.

Remus paled slightly and froze. "B- but," he stuttered, "I barely scrape an 'A' in Potions, no matter how hard I try. And Professor Sharkhorn demands at least-- "

"An 'E' for his NEWTs classes," finished Professor McGonagall. "I know, Lupin. We just have to try a little harder, don't we? Potions is quite a handy subject to have a NEWT qualification in for many career paths. I think it best you aim to take it, especially considering how we need to keep your options as open as possible in case one of your career choices happens to fall through."

Remus nodded once more. He was beginning to feel like one of those Muggle figurines which had a spring for its neck, so its head would bobble around jerkily each time it was being jolted. He swallowed and mumbled a quick word of thanks.

Professor McGonagall stood up and walked round her table to the door. She observed him for a few moments before opening the door for Remus to go through.

"Well, Lupin. We shall go with the career as either an Unspeakable or an Auror for now, as you expressed your wish to pursue a career in those areas. But we will also keep in mind to have the options open for other areas should these two choices not work out," she said, as she pointed him the way out of her office.

Peter and James had their advice sessions following each other in the afternoon, so that evening, Remus, James, Sirius and Peter assembled by the fire, which was burning merrily in the common room, to discuss what had been said.

"So what did she say to you, Moony," asked Sirius, settling himself next to the crackling flames.

"Just that I was to take as diverse a selection of subjects as possible for the NEWTs so I can keep my options open." Remus replied. "Just in case the plan of training as an Unspeakable or as an Auror falls through."

"I could see she came close to rolling her eyes when I told her all I wanted to do was to play Quidditch for the Chudley Cannons," grinned James.

"Did she suggest anything else to you?" asked Peter.

"She tried," said James. "She suggested working for the Ministry of Magic, working in the Wizengamot even, since she thinks I have the brains for it, but I simply insisted on Quidditch, Quidditch, Quidditch."

Remus couldn't help smiling, knowing how stubborn James could get if he set his mind on something, especially if the something involved a sport on broomsticks encompassing fourteen players, six hoops, four balls and seven hundred fouls; all of which took place fifty feet up in the air.

"Then she said 'What if you get injured and can't play anymore?' so I reassured her that I could always coach. Like Madam Hooch."

"Very true," said Sirius. But Remus wondered how effective a coach James would be. He didn't appear to have the patience a coach would need to train a Quidditch team. He often got irritated by others should they require a longer time to grasp an idea or technique (which was often). But then, Remus mused, James may well remain on the Chudley Cannons team for a fairly long period of time. A career-ending injury was only the worst-case scenario, and by the time James would retire as an active athlete, he may well have acquired enough patience to act as a coach.

"What about you then, Wormtail? What was planned for you?" James asked after he'd finished talking about his Quidditch aspirations.

Peter looked almost as impassive as Remus did when Professor McGonagall had mentioned banking to him.

"Nothing much," he said. "I suggested I might want to open a sweet shop in Diagon Alley. You know, much like Honeydukes."

"Oooh," gasped James, his eyes opening wide. "Will we be getting free sugar quills and Fudge Flies then? C'mon, we'll even help you stock up, or mop the floor or something."

Peter grinned at his reaction, as Sirius prodded him. "So, did you or her suggest anything else?"

"Hmmm, there was, kinda, something else, I guess," Peter mumbled, barely opening his lips so the words came out quite muffled.

"Yes?" prompted James.

"Ah kinda shuddesded minisderoffffmadic." He spoke rapidly, slurring his garbled words together in an attempt to get it out with minimal impact.

"You kind of wha--?" questioned Remus, trying to figure out what Peter had just muttered.

"Did you just say Minister of Magic?" asked James slowly, after a few seconds' pondering.

Peter's cheeks, already flushed from sitting so close to the fire, brightened even more.

"You did?" squealed Sirius, catching Peter's embarrassed look. "Lofty!"

"Ambitious!" added James, giving a low whistle.

"Wow," Remus breathed. He would never have thought of that himself.

"How are you gonna set about getting up there?" demanded Sirius.

"Yeah, where do you start off in? Somewhere within the Ministry I guess?"

"Then you work your way up from there, right?"

"What did McGonagall say about this?"

"Imagine you, Minister of Magic!"

"The most influential man in the country!"

"Or world even. One of the most influential anyway."

"Hey, you can help Sirius change those jurisdictional rules then!"

"I still can't believe this!"

Meanwhile, Peter was sitting on a cushion on the hearth beside the fireplace, blushing furiously as he listened to the cascade of shocked and surprised comments coming his way.

"Please keep it down," he begged after a particularly shrill exclamation from Sirius. "It probably won't go anywhere. I mean, it's just a thought. I probably would just end up as an assistant's assistant in one of the many departments within the Ministry."

"Don't be silly," said James gruffly, "You won't be the Minister right away, but you wouldn't be stuck assisting secretaries either."

"Hey, what do you think ole Snivellus would be going into?" asked Sirius, after about half an hour of studying yet more brochures by the fire."

"Who cares?" scoffed James, "so long it isn't where I am ending up."

Peter sniggered softly. "He's probably going into the Dark Arts, by the looks of him. Did you see the pile of books he checked out over Easter at the library?" The others shook their heads. "They were all about the dark arts. Hexes, jinxes, the Unforgivable Curses, dark creatures, even the history of Azkaban."

James gave a low whistle.

"He also had this huge book on the rise and fall of Grindelwald," added Peter, recalling the fact a few moments later.

"Not surprised, are you?" muttered Sirius darkly. "Maybe I would end up capturing Snape as an Auror." His eyes glinted at the thought.

Something Peter had said sparked off a memory within the depths of Remus's mind. What was it he had heard? Oh yes, of course.

"What is a Death Eater?" he asked, without thinking, as he voiced his ruminations out loud.

"Death Eater?" repeated James, looking confused. "Never heard of them."

Sirius frowned. "How did you hear about them, Moony?" he demanded.

"Oh nothing," said Remus hastily. "Just - er, nothing," he mumbled.

Sirius eyed him suspiciously, and eventually Remus relented. "Well," he hesitated, debating whether to spill the beans or not, and finally deciding it wouldn't do too much harm. "I was in the hospital wing after the full moon before Christmas when I overheard Noirforre talking about Snape's mother being a Death Eater."

He shrugged, in an effort to brush it off as a trifling fact. "I'm sure it's nothing," he said, trying to dismiss it casually.

"It's not nothing," Sirius's voice was hard now. "A Death Eater is a Voldemort supporter, one of his devoted minions," he whispered fiercely, disgust smouldering just below the surface. "I caught snatches of them being mentioned at home over Christmas. Regulus was talking about them with Mum and Dad, sounded darned keen to join them."

Sirius nearly spat into the fire in his zealous disgust. Sirius so very seldom acknowledged his brother's existence that Remus often forgot Regulus Black was a second-year Slytherin in the very same school.

"So you think Snape-- " piped up Peter timidly.

"Will be right there," finished Sirius grimly. "Mark my words, he will follow his mother into the cult. Good luck to them."

Later on that night, when most of the Gryffindors, including James and Sirius, were drifting up to the dormitories to get ready for bed, Peter turned to Remus, asking rather worriedly.

"Do you think I was being over-ambitious about the Minister tonight?"

Remus had to admit to himself that he had been very surprised at the revelation, as were, he was sure, James and Sirius, but he kept that to himself. Instead, he said,

"No, not over-ambitious. Just-- " he cast round for an appropriate word. "Unusual," he finished. "But unusual is good," he added hurriedly, seeing the increasingly anxious look on Peter's face. "It would be too boring if everyone was a Healer or an Auror, right?"

Peter remained silent until they too, stood up from their seats by the dying fire and made their way to the entrance leading up to the dormitories.

"It just seemed as if everyone was so incredulous," he continued.

"Well," Remus wondered where this was leading to.

"Like no one would expect me to be able to become the Minister!" said Peter, a little crossly now. "Why not?"

"Er-- "

"James wants to be an internationally renowned Quidditch player," Peter hammered on, ignoring Remus's hesitation (much to his relief, he had been fearing Peter would be wanting an answer). "Sirius wants to be the successor to the legendary Mad-Eye, why would it be so impossible I wouldn't harbour some sort of expectations of myself too?"

"I don't think they thought you wouldn't have high expectations of yourself," explained Remus. "It's not everyday you learn one of your best friends can become the Minister. It can be a bit - mind-blowing."

"They probably think I am not that capable of it," said Peter sulkily. "Maybe you do too!"

"Don't be silly," said Remus at once. "Of course we don't think that."

"You think I will be the Minister someday then?" demanded Peter.

"I think anyone who wishes to certainly has the chances to become one," said Remus, selecting his words carefully. "Of course, not everyone who wants to be can be. Look at Barty Crouch. He's what? Shunted to the Department of International Magical Co-operation now? But he still has a respectable job."

"So you really do think I have a chance?"

"You never know until you try," said Remus. "And it doesn't hurt having an ambitious goal, unless you are trying to destroy the world with it or something. Sometimes you should shoot for the moon, so even if you miss, you'll land among the stars."

"Shoot for the moon, and even if you miss, you'll land among the stars." Peter repeated. "It's sound advice."

"It's what my mother keeps telling me, so I'll bet it is."

Remus smiled into his cocoon of pillows and quilts as he heard a creak telling him Peter had just climbed into bed himself. It was rather ironic to advise a werewolf to shoot for the moon, but Remus got the gist of his mother's advice, and it often encouraged the rather reluctant side of him to seek out what he rightfully deserved.