"Here we are," Madam Pomfrey said, her voice sing-songy and cheerful as always.

Despite his current haggard state, Remus could not help but be quite thankful for her. In many ways, and on many occasions, he owed the mediwitch his very life, and all of the things that had ever come to be throughout it. If it had not been for Madam Pomfrey, Remus would never have come to Hogwarts in the first place - her gentle aid each month for all those years had been a huge part of the reason why he'd been able to go to the school, and why he had lived through it... even with his condition.

Remus caught her hand as she deposited him gently into the soft chair by the fire place in his office. "Madam Pomfrey..." he started, but she smiled and shook her head, pulling her hand away to gently touch his cheek.

"Now, now," she clucked, "No need for all those sentimental nonsensities... It's no good getting all emotional while your body is so exhausted, after all."

Remus smiled. "As long as you know they are felt. Sincerely."

She nodded and turned away quickly, setting a fire in the floo with a flick of her wand, and with another tucking a thick woolen blanket over Remus's lap. "There we are... Now rest and Severus will be along with your potion for tonight. Don't you dare go and try being off alone by yourself again like that - Jeekers, whatever would Albus say to it if he'd known?! With all that's going on these days... and look at you, all bandaged up. What have you done, let me see and I'll get you mended..." She pulled the bit of cloth from Remus's hand, revealing cuts that had been already coated thickly with healing salve and were quite on the mend already. She raised an eyebrow. "Quite the Healer, aren't you?"

Remus didn't answer. What could he say? That he hadn't been the one to administer the salve? And then what?

Madam Pomfrey clucked about a couple more moments, making sure he was settled, and then left him to sit and rest on his own. As thankful as he was for her, Remus had to admit he was also thankful for the silence that came once she'd left, too, for it afforded him the first moment he had gotten yet to think more clearly through everything.

He lifted up the cloth that his damaged palm had been bandaged with. Gray striped cloth, linen, rough and scratchy, unevenly torn and frayed. He studied it for a long moment, then, "Accio Daily Prophet!" The paper flew from his desk and into his lap.

Sure enough, when he compared the fabric in his hand to the photo on the front page of the paper, it was a perfect match. There was no doubt about it now - not that there had been much doubt in Remus's mind before, but now there was not a single iota of one.

The only question now, then, was where Sirius Black had got off to, and why, if he was as set on finishing off Remus Lupin - or Harry Potter, for that matter - had he not used Lupin's weakened state as an opportunity to get the job done without a fight? Why hadn't he just killed Remus on the spot? Why bandage him up? And where had he got off to after Remus had awakened? Remus had heard the door, after all, but - and he had realized this when Pomfrey had come in the Shack and closed the trap door behind her - be didn't know if Sirius had gone out... or down into the tunnel.

Which meant Sirius could be anywhere. He could be in the school that very moment, could be out in the corridor, sneaking along toward the office door, unnoticed by anyone...

The knock on the door at that very moment gave Remus quite a turn and he nearly fell from his chair in shock. "Who - who's there?!" He was embarrassed that his voice shook slightly.

And why should it? He wasn't even sure any more if he had any reason to be afraid.

Filch's voice came through as he creaked the door opened and stuck his head in. "Delivery for you, sir," he growled.

"Delivery?" Remus asked, confused. He struggled to his feet as Filch pushed the door open wider and in came a young wizard wearing yellow cloaks, levitating a huge hexagonal tank. "Ohh! My grindylow!" he said in surprise. "Why, it wasn't supposed to come until next week."

"We got him a bit sooner than expected," explained the delivery boy, whose badge read Magical Menagerie. "Says here this specimen was specially provided for you by none other than Mr. Newt Scamander him very self!" The boy sounded impressed.

"Filthy, nasty thing," grumbled Filch, "Been sloshing all the way from the front door. I'll be sopping up it's filthy slime for days!"

Remus ignored old Filch and pointed to the corner for the boy to drop the tank there as he signed his name to acceptance forms and thanked the Menagerie delivery boy profusely. The moment the tank hit the floor, Filch turned and led the boy out into the corridor, muttering to himself as he went.

Remus smiled at the note on the delivery receipt that contained the speciman's Scamanderian origin, and looked up at the tank. The green creature pressed its webbed hands to the glass and made a hideous face at Remus, who wagged his finger accusingly. "I won't feel a bit guilty unleashing a lot of fourth years after you if you don't knock it off." The creature stuck out its tongue, and Remus rolled his eyes.

Just then, there was a sound in the corridor, and Remus turned to the door, sticking his head out it, peering left and right, but seeing no one. He stepped out and glanced behind the suits of armor on either side of his office door, peering into the shadows, half afraid to find what he was looking for and half hoping that he would.

If he really thought Sirius Black might be about in the castle, then why wasn't he immediately reporting to Dumbledore? Remus wondered absently. For Harry's sake at least he ought to be more careful...

Another sound in the corridor had him turning about, but only to find Professor McGonagall there. "Professor," he said.

She responded by wagging her finger at him, "And there you are. Poppy said she had found you and returned you to your proper place, but I needed to come and confirm for meself that you had made it to where you ought to be, Mister Lupin!"

Remus flushed, "I didn't realize my location was such a concern for everyone in the castle," he said.

Professor McGonagall's stern eyes lightened ever so slightly. "Of course it is! Especially with all that is going on these days..."

"Well next time I'll be sure to leave a note on the desk so the lot of you haven't need to resort to reading about where I've gone in tea leaves."

McGonagall stiffened.

"What?" Remus asked, confused by the unnerved, slightly annoyed look in her eyes. "Sorry, it was only a joke. I know the great Minnie needn't consult divination to be as brilliant as you are."

"It's not that, really, it's only just I rather don't see the situation as a laughing one, and further, I don't think many of the students would either, given all that's been on this week."

Remus felt confused. "What's been on this week?"

McGonagall's eyebrows raised. "Have ye not heard the racket then?"

Remus shook his head.

She sighed. "Well, you know Sybil Trelawney - you had her as a bairn yourself a term or two didn't you?"

Remus shook his head, "No, but I've met her.. she's...a.. uh..." he paused. "Bit of a crack pot, if I remember?"

"Only made worse by years of drinking sherry and stirring up students each year with dramatic over zealous predictions. Every term, somebody's tea leaves predict their certain death... But never has a student's tea leaves been accurate."

"Ah ha," Remus murmured. "And who is her victim this term?" he asked, amused.

"Harry Potter, of course, which I found most distasteful - given the situation, and of all students, having to choose the one who might very well be quite upset by the predictions! With good reason."

"Is he? Upset?"

"Not that I have seen," she said. "But really, telling the boy he's seen the grim is just absurd!"

Remus's eyes flashed, "The grim?"

"Aye," Minnie nodded, "The black dog of death." Her tone was clear that she didn't believe in a word of it.

Remus felt his skin break out in goose flesh, and a chill shiver through his spine. He, too, had always been one to mock the divination courses. The future was too unpredictable to be committed to the way yea leaves clung to a cup or tarot cards fell on a table. He himself had seen too many variables to believe in such silly things...

But he would be a liar to claim that the Grim was a bit of irony that scarcely anyone else would understand but himself.

After all, the black dog of death may very well be lurking in the castle that very night.

He was just about to open his mouth, to tell the Professor whom he trusted such a lot with so many things, to tell her everything - from the secret of the animagi to the moment he had cried out Sirius's name in the Shrieking Shack that very morning, to the eerie feeling he now had crawling about inside of him, when she suddenly said, "Well, Mr. Lupin, I shall let you get on with your resting..." She hesitated slightly, then added, "I - I don't suppose you'll be joining us for the feast tonight?"

Remus shook his head. "I'm... far too weak for such... festivities." He felt his fingers tighten nervously around the receipt for the Grindylow, which he still held in his hand.

Besides - Halloween night hadn't been anything to celebrate in years.

Twelve years, to be exact.

McGonagall nodded as though she knew precisely what he was thinking. She lingered by the door a moment - the closest to awkwardly that he had ever envisioned the Professor capable of being. Then - and if he wasn't mistaken, he thought he might have heard the slightest bit of a tremble to her voice - she said, "Please take care of yourself, Mister Lupin," she requested. "No more sneaking off on full moon nights..."

Remus nodded. "Yes, Professor."

"I may not be desperate enough to go to Sybil Trelawney for an answer on your whereabouts, but I do worry."

"I know, Professor."

She nodded, satisfied, and stepped out the door into the hallway. "I swear to Merlin, between figuring out where you were today, and having to explain to Harry Potter why going traipsing off to Hogsmeade was a poor idea for him, I haven't any idea how I'm expected to relax even a mo' - if it isn't one of my boys, it's another, putting themselves into danger..."

Remus watched her as she walked down the corridor, disappearing 'round the bend toward her own quarters, and leaving Remus quite alone once again.

He started to close the door when he heard yet another set of footsteps coming down the hall.

Busy corridor, he thought, peering out.

Was it always this busy or was it just because he was on alert, half expecting the horrible, gaunt face of Sirius Black to poke 'round the end, that it seemed to be busier than usual?

But then, from 'round the bend came as impossible a face as Sirius Black's.

It was James Potter's.

His breath was taken away for a moment - a ghost, for sure, he thought, emotions piling up in him like a train collision, folding up accordion style as they struck his chest.

But no, not James after all for when the eyes turned to look at him, they were green - as green as ocean glass or the brightest emerald you might have ever seen.

"Harry?" he said.

Harry Potter stopped, turning 'round to spot Remus. For a moment, his eyes showed surprise, then recognition, and he stood there in the corridor, looking... for lack of a better word... lost.

Remus glanced about the corridor, then shuffled forward, acutely aware of his limp. Bleedin' hell, how he wished he could turn off the pain in his hip and his knees... If only he could look more strong, more impressive, more.... more than just some half crippled old man in Harry's eyes, at least.

"What are you doing?" he asked. Then, glancing around, realizing Harry was alone, he added, "Where are Ron and Hermione?" the boy was never without the other two.

Of all times to be alone, Remus thought, frustrated and nervous, suddenly feeling a protective flare rise up with in him. Harry Potter, alone in the castle when it was very much possible that the murderer of his mother and father was skulking about the place!

"Hogsmeade," Harry said dully, his voice overloaded with held-back emotion.

"Ah," Remus said. Oh how Remus knew that voice. He himself had used it frequently. Jealous, frustrated, left-out. These were things that were going through Harry's mind... and hadn't McGonagall just said she'd spent the morning explaining to Harry why he ought not to go to Hogsmeade? No wonder he sounded like that. He looked down at the receipt of delivery, all crunched up in his fist. Then, "Harry... Why don't you come in? I - I've just taken delivery of a grindylow for our next lesson."

"A what?" asked Harry. But even as he voiced his confusion, his interest was clearly piqued.

"A water demon," Remus explained, beckoning for Harry to follow. He limped and winced his way back into the office.

Better in the office with him, safe and where he could keep an eye on him, than wandering about the corridors of the castle where he, Harry, may or may not be being watched, followed, preyed upon...

Harry followed Remus into the office, and as Remus closed the door, he watched Harry approach the hexagonal tank in the corner of the room. The boy had a look of fascination as he stared up at the green creature, who was still making horrid faces out the glass. "Whoa," Harry murmured, watching it move it's long, spindly fingers.

"We shouldn't have much difficulty with him, not after the kappas," Remus said, studying the creature as he walked over to stand beside Harry. His eyes tore away from the creature to Harry, standing right there before him, his heart in his throat as he spoke, glad for Harry's distraction with the creature in the tank. "The trick is to break his grip," he said, hoping to give Harry a one-up over the other kids come their next DADA class together. "You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle."

Harry watched the grindylow as he bared his teeth before curling up into a tangle of seaweed in the corner of the tank. Harry's eyes moved from the creature to Remus Lupin, then, catching it as Remus stared a bit too long and a bit too hard. Remus flushed and turned away quickly.

"Cup of tea?" he asked, desperate for something to do that would distract him. "I was -er- just - just thinking of making one?" he looked around for his kettle.

"I-" Harry hesitated. "I- All right."

The boy was uncomfortable, nervous, a bit twitchy and uneasy. He was wringing his fingers a bit, and Remus wondered if he even realized he was doing it.

Remus found the kettle, held it up, and tapped it with his wand. The steam instantly blew from the spout and James -- no, Harry -- Harry looked surprised. "Sit down," Remus said, waving to one of the two comfy chairs by the fireplace. Remus waved his wand and produced two tea cups. He wondered what Harry's china pattern looked like, but felt it might have been too cheesy to do, and he kept his head down as he turned for the tin where he kept his tea as Harry took the seat he'd indicated.

Carefully, he dropped a clump of the aconite leaves he kept into the water of his own cup before selecting a bag of Earl Gray for Harry. Remus said, "I've only got tea bags, I'm afraid -- but I daresay you've had enough to tea leaves, from what I understand?"

Harry turned in his seat in surprise.

Remus smirked.

"How did you know about that?" Harry asked.

"Professor McGonagall told me," Remus replied. He poured the water and turned to hand Harry his tea. Remus was embarrassed to see that even his conjured tea cups were chipped and shabby and he wondered at what Harry must think of him... Boring, old and shabby, most like, he thought, and he regretted that Harry didn't know him back when he'd had some fun left in him. It seemed so long ago.

Harry took the cup and stared down into it as the bag began to release it's flavor.

"You're not worried, are you?" Remus asked.

Harry shook his head defiantly. "No." But he wavered slightly, even as he spoke the words.

Remus hesitated. "...anything... else... worrying you, Harry?"

"No," Harry said again.

Remus watched as Harry took a long sip of his tea, his eyes going repeatedly to the tank in the corner. Remus sat down and sipped his own tea, thankful for the warmth of it and for the aconite that seemed to loosen the tight muscles and joints that screamed up to his pain recepters from his hip.

"Actually," Harry hesitated.

Remus looked over at him expectantly.

"Yes," Harry paused, then, "You know that day we fought the boggart?"

"Yes," Remus said slowly.

Harry put his cup down and seemed to hold onto the question for a second, as though he wasn't sure he wanted to ask... or maybe wasn't sure he wanted the answer. "Why didn't you let me fight it?" he finally blurted out.

Remus felt his eyebrows raise. "I - I though that would have been obvious, Harry," he said.

"Well... I -" Harry stammered slightly. "I mean... I... Why?"

It wasn't the question Remus had expected. He hesitated, then, "Well, I assumed that if the boggart faced you... well, I - I assumed it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort."

Harry stared at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar.

"I didn't think it was a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staff room, though, I mean, I'm sure people would've panicked at the sight of them."

Harry stared at the tea growing ever darker in his mug. Then, "Well... see, I - I remembered those dementors."

Sirius considered this a moment. Then, "I see. Well." He nodded. "I'm impressed."

Harry was shocked, that much was clear by the look on his face, and Remus had to look away. The expression he was making... blimey, if James Potter could've been resurrected from the dead, he could look no more like himself than Harry Potter already did.

"That suggests that what you fear most of all is - fear. That's very wise, Harry."

Harry flushed and gulped tea.

Remus felt pride well up inside himself. He wished he had better words, something more personal, more uplifting, more .... well, just more. But he wasn't sure what the more even was, much less how to split it up and get all he wanted to say out.

He wanted to wrap his arms around the boy and tell him everything would be alright, that he didn't have anything to fear, that he was in safe hands now that he, Remus, would swear to protect him in any shape way or form possible.

"So you've been thinking that I didn't believe you to be capable of fighting the boggart?" Remus asked,

"Well, yeah." Harry said.

Remus was about to apologize, for making Harry feel anything from him except the pride that threatened to boil over every time Harry did anything at all. For breathing, Remus felt proud of the boy. For getting out of bed everyday, Remus felt proud of the boy. For all the progression in school and Quidditch, Remus felt proud of the boy. There was truly nothing that would ever, ever make Remus feel anything less than pride at Harry Potter, and utter confidence in the boy's ability to do anything that he, Harry, put his mind to.

He was his parents' son after all, he wanted to say.

But just as he opened his mouth to speak the words, the door was knocked upon.

Remus staredat the door for a moment, his heart rate picking up. "Come in," he called hesitantly.

It was Snape, before him on a tray stood the Wolfsbane potion in a goblet.

As if he had any question at all about Harry's parentage, it was clear now how alike they were as Harry's eyes narrowed with suspicion - just as Snape's did the same upon seeing Harry.

"Ah Severus," Remus said, watching the smoke come up in tendrils from the goblet. "Thanks very much. Could you leave it there on the desk for me?"

Severus set it down with a clattering sound as he stared at Harry and Remus, his lip curling up with a sneer of severe displeasure. It was clear on Severus Snape's face what he was thinking about. This, for Snape, must have looked like a it of deja vu. Something like guilt welled up in Remus's stomach - guilt for having been a part of any bit of bullying that might have lead Severus to make such a face as that which he was making. Bitter hatred, Remus thought.

But then again - and he felt nearly as guilty about this as well - Harry was making a similar face back at the Potions Master.

Frustration rose up in Remus. He hated that the hatred had transcended a generation, that Severus Snape was still lurking about the school, making faces at Potter boys, like some sort of vengeful bat nightmare... and after what Neville Longbottom had told him following the incident with the boggart, Remus tended to think that the glower from Harry was likely well deserved.

"I was just showing Harry my grindylow," Remus explained, hoping to break the anger tension between two of them.

"Fascinating," Severus muttered in his low, monotone voice. He hadn't even glanced at the tank when Remus pointed it out. Instead, he instantly snarled, "You should drink this directly, Lupin."

"Yes, yes I will," Remus promised.

Severus glanced at Harry, then back to Remus. He added. "I made an entire cauldron full. If you need more."

"Ah, yes, well I should probably take some more tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus."

"Not at all." Severus glared at Remus.

If looks could kill, Remus couldn't help but think, then Sirius Black wouldn't need to be trying his hand at it, but Severus himself would've committed both murders - his and Harry's - right on the spot with the disapproval on his mouth. He backed out and closed the door, his eyes never leaving Remus's.

Harry, Remus noticed, hadn't stopped staring at the potion goblet.

Just a few more hints and Severus would've had Harry asking questions, he thought.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me," Remus explained. "I've never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex." He picked up the goblet and smelled it - a minty, bitter chocolate sort of scent arose into his nose. "Pity adding sugar makes it useless," he added, "The stuff might be downright pleasant if one could... but it's dreadful otherwise." He took a mouthful, feeling Harry's eyes on him through the entire motion of raising the glass, taking the sip, and swallowing. Remus shuddered at the taste of it as it burned his mouth and set into his stomach in a displeasing way. "Ugh," murmured Remus.

"Why --" Harry started to ask the question Severus had wanted so much to answer if only he'd been there long enough to hear it asked.

"I've been feeling a bit.... off-colour," Remus answered before Harry could finish. "And this potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren't many wizards who are up to making it." Remus took another sip.

"Professor Snape is very interested in the dark arts and some people reckon --" Harry hesitated, then continued quickly, his voice pinching with urgency, "Some people reckon he'd do ANYTHING to get the Defense Against the Dark Arts job." He started at Remus meaningfully.

Remus quickly swallowed the remainder of the cup, mostly for Harry's benefit. "Disgusting," he said - and Remus meant not just the flavor of the potion, but the words Harry had spoken against Severus Snape. He, Remus, would take it upon himself to try to mend wounds that had been made a generation before Harry, wounds that ought not be weighing on the minds of twelve year old boys so strongly that Harry had felt the need to give Remus a warning against the position.

After all, Remus thought, how little Harry understood about the full situation - how ironic that the boy didn't understand that the danger within Hogwarts walls wasn't from Snape at all, but rather from a ghost of a dog that could be lurking anywhere in the school at that very moment.