Tonks stopped at the back gate of the Shrieking Shack, her wand hovering over the simple looking latch that held most of the complex security wards. "All right," she said to the wavery shapes beside her, "this is it. It's mostly in the wand movement, but don't forget the nonverbal spell and--" She sighed. "You both know this is no game, right?"

Sanjiv and Daffy both made impatient noises, and she supposed it was fair. She'd lectured them for at least an hour last night about Order business and Voldemort and several other things until Daffy had snapped and reminded her which one of them was actually a parent. (He and Maddie had decided to flip a Galleon to see which of them would watch the school and which the baby.)

"Sorry," she said. "You're the first I'm bringing in all the way."

"Don't worry about it," Sanjiv said. "Just show us how to get in."

Tonks opened the gate and led them in, slipping behind the Concealment charms. She let them break the Disillusionment. From the road, the garden would look empty, as always. She could hear voices from the kitchen window. Dumbledore and the others must have come through the Whomping Willow tunnel. Absurdly, she felt a nervous flutter in her stomach about what they'd think of the house.

In the kitchen, Dumbledore was sitting comfortably at the table (which was laden with food that smelled like Molly's cooking), chatting with Hestia Jones. Fleur Delacour and Bill Weasley were leaning against the counter, their arms looped around one another's waists, whispering to each other.

Dumbledore looked up. "Ah, Miss Tonks. Thank you for making the house a bit more comfortable."

"You're cleaning?" Sanjiv asked, pretending shock. "Is that a sign of the apocalypse?"

"It was a bit dusty in here," she said. "I thought we'd do well to be able to breathe."

If anyone other than Dumbledore knew how much worse than "dusty" it had been, the knowledge remained unspoken. Which proved nothing--people were treading carefully around her these days, and if they suspected she was spending hours in a deserted house, repairing shattered walls and replacing crumbling plaster (and sleeping here nearly half the time now), they were probably going home to whisper, "Poor dear... she's really gone around the bend, hasn't she?"

"I hope you don't mind my including Hestia," Dumbledore said. "She's had some time freed up recently."

"Not at all," Tonks said. "You're certain it's all right with Remus to give out the spells and so on?"

"I left him a message at Molly's, and he owled back giving his permission. He'll be along shortly."

"Remus is coming?"

"As I believe I told you, I need to speak with him, and it concerns this project."

"Right, of course. I thought you were going to speak to him at Molly's. I'm sorry."

"You should stop mopeeng over 'im," Fleur said. "'E iz--"

"Enough, Fleur," Bill said quietly, but firmly. Fleur blushed and sat down at the table.

Tonks sat down across from Dumbledore. "There's something I've been concerned about--in an entirely abstract way, of course."

"Has there?"

"If someone managed to access the Hogwarts grounds and figure out the route under the Whomping Willow--"

"Or if someone already knows it," Dumbledore said. "That has occurred to me as well."

"Couldn't a person like that just come here and let people in through the back door?"

"Not without knowing the charms to open it." He smirked. "Which, Miss Tonks, I noticed that you have been shifting rather randomly."

"I--"

"I was glad to see it. Though for reasons we'll discuss here, the people on this particular team will need to know how to get in and out."

"Yes, sir."

Dumbledore briefly explained what had happened the previous weekend, giving the others less information about his suspicions than he had given Tonks, saying only that he suspected the cursed necklace may have been sent by someone who had access to the grounds.

"I would remain at the school myself at all times if it were at all possible," he said. "But in our current circumstance, alas, it is not. There are pressing matters elsewhere that require my attention. The Order is needed. I will keep Miss Tonks apprised of my comings and goings." He motioned to Tonks, and she stood forward.

"All right," she said. "Bill, Hestia, this going to be a lot like the Ministry watch last year, though I hope we'll have more than one person at a time. For those of you who haven't met one another--or don't remember one another--these are Sanjiv McPherson and Dafydd Apcarne--"

"Daffy," Daffy interjected.

Bill smiled. "I remember the lot of you. Weren't the pair of you out on the Quidditch pitch when Tonks and my brother Charlie dared one another to climb the goalposts at midnight?"

"Yeah, you docked me ten points," Sanjiv said.

"I docked Charlie twenty." He put his hand on Fleur's shoulder. "This is my fiancée, Fleur Delacour."

Fleur nodded and said, "I am 'appy to meet you."

"And this is Hestia Jones," Tonks said, by way of prying the boys' eyes away from Fleur. "She's been in the Order for quite a long time."

They muttered greetings, and Tonks got down to the business of establishing their schedules (if Dumbledore was gone on a Thursday, it could be problematic), choosing a method of communication (all voted for Patronuses, though Daffy admitted that he would need some coaching on the spell, as he'd never had cause to use it), and debating on others who might be called. Bill was recommending a friend of his--a fellow prefect, from Slytherin--when a soft pop in the parlor distracted them. A moment later, Remus appeared at the kitchen door.

He looked considerably better than he'd looked last month, but he seemed to be shrinking from the house itself as his eyes traced the lines of the furniture. A clean curtain on the window brushed him, and he jumped away as if burned. He remained standing, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

Tonks closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "Hello, Remus. We were just finishing up."

He nodded to her, then looked at Dumbledore. "I didn't realize the whole group would be here. I mean, it's all right, of course. I just didn't realize."

"I just cleaned up a bit," Tonks said.

"I noticed." He blinked slowly. "I was here yesterday. I saw it then."

"Oh."

"You said you needed something from me, Albus? I'm assuming that you don't want me patrolling the corridors."

"Not at the moment, no. Though I don't rule it out."

"What is it, then?"

"I need you teach us how to fool the Marauder's Map."

"What?" Some life came back into his face, and he shook his head. "No, Albus, Harry is perfectly trustworthy if he sees us--"

"It's not Mr. Potter I'm concerned with, Remus. Lord Voldemort has someone in his inner circle who knows how to create and use a map of that sort, and Harry may not be the only person in the school in possession of one."

Remus winced and sat down. "Right. Of course. Peter," he hissed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, looked at the straightened cupboard doors, and looked down again. Tonks felt her face go red. "It's not easy to fool. We made it to see where Hogwarts teachers were, and it would have been pointless to use a spell that anyone at all could break. And of course, we were the only ones who had it and we were all trustworthy, so really, why ever would we need to hide from it?"

It took nearly an hour to find a way around the spells--"How old were the four of you when you did this?" Hestia marveled--but finally, they found a combination of charms that would keep them from appearing... probably.

"I'd have to have the map itself to be absolutely certain," Remus said. "Peter and I did some of the charm-work on it, but you know... knew... James and Sirius. There were always little tricks. But I think this should work."

Dumbledore adjourned the meeting, and everyone started to leave. Remus caught Tonks by the elbow as Dumbledore took the others to the back gate.

"You shouldn't," he said, pointing around the house. "You shouldn't."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I--"

He pressed his fingers to her lips and she kissed them.. "No, it's not that. It's beautiful. It looks lovely. But you shouldn't. It doesn't matter."

"I know. But I need to."

"I shouldn't let you."

"Well, you'll just have to come around and stop me, then, won't you?"

"What am I going to do about you?"

"I'm not a problem you need to solve."

"I want you to be happy."

"Stupid as it sounds, I'm happy replacing the plaster around here."

He caressed her arm lightly, sighing. "I should ask you to stop."

"Are you going to?"

He shook his head and pulled his hand away. "I need to talk to Dumbledore alone," he said. "To find out if something's possible."

"All right." She leaned forward and put her arms around him, holding him as tightly as he would let her. "I hate this, Remus. I miss you. I hate that we don't even talk. We could always talk."

"I hate it as well." He stood and walked away from her. "But I can't... I have no right."

The door opened and Dumbledore came back in, looking grave. "Thank you, Nymphadora," he said. "You did very well. And Remus, I am grateful. I'm confident that we'll be reasonably secure. You mentioned that you wanted to consult me about something?"

"Yes." He looked significantly at Tonks.

She took the hint. She nodded to him, and nearly fled from the house, running squarely into Sanjiv and Daffy, who were waiting for her on the road.

"Do you want to hold him while I hit him?" Daffy asked Sanjiv. "Or would you prefer the other way?"

"Oh, bugger off," Tonks said. "I'm a grown woman, and I can handle making a mistake or two."

"You made the mistake?" Sanjiv shook his head. "You cleaned up his house. Yes, I can see why he'd flinch like the devil was pinching his bum."

"I started to make a home without asking if he wanted me to make one."

"He proposed to you," Daffy said. "That's usually a good sign."

Tonks looked over her shoulder at the Shrieking Shack, then sighed. "That was last year," she said. "Everything's different now." She turned back to them. "Come on. Let's get some decent food from Madam Rosmerta and then call it a night, shall we?"

They had a pleasant dinner together at the Three Broomsticks (the conversation mainly involving a wallet full of new pictures of Francis), then Tonks shooed the boys off and went home. She changed into comfortable exercise clothes, caught up on her surveillance paperwork for Dawlish, and was settling in to study some information Maddie had sent through Daffy about the forest gates when she heard shuffling footsteps outside her door.

She knew it was Remus from the moment he knocked, and she was not surprised when she opened the door to find him standing in the corridor, staring at the toes of his shoes. If he'd owned a hat, he would have been twisting it in his hands.

"Dora, I..." His eyes darted up to her face, then he looked down again.

"Come in, then," she said. She walked across the room and sat down at her dressing table, so that he wouldn't have the option of staying outside. "I'll be good."

"It's not you I'm worried about," he muttered, but came in anyway. He pulled over the chair from the desk and sat down across from her. "I owe you an apology."

"Don't be silly. I should have mentioned what I was doing. And I suppose I didn't because I knew you wouldn't want me to. I don't blame you for being angry. Really."

"You don't understand. I'm not angry. I'm not sure what I feel. A bit frightened, I think."

"My housekeeping does that."

He laughed, and seemed surprised at the sound of it.

"Really," she said. "I have to close all the windows, because when I set the sponges going, they're always flying off the counters, and they'd be all over Hogsmeade if I didn't lock them in. And don't look too closely at the beds I made." She blushed, realizing the double-entendre. When she looked up, he was looking at her steadily, but his face was quite red as well. She smiled. "Well."

"Yes. Well."

They stared at one another for a very long time and Tonks was almost certain that he meant to kiss her, but he abruptly put his hand over his eyes and leaned forward, rubbing his face vigorously. "I should go."

Tonks took a deep breath. "You don't have to. If you'd rather... stay."

His breathing became very rapid for a moment, and his eyes seemed to get darker, but he shook his head. "No. No, I--" Abruptly, he moved across the space between them and turned her around toward the mirror on the dressing table. They were reflected in it together. She thought she looked drawn and a bit surprised; he looked desperate. "Look at us," he said. "Look. You're young. Beautiful. Oh, God, you're so beautiful. I look like an elderly vagrant."

"Remus--"

"I won't ruin your life. I won't." Despite his words, he kissed her, his lips probing hers harshly, hungrily. He stood up and covered his face. "I can't do this. I can't be with you and not..." He touched his head and lurched over to the door, leaning against the frame. "Dumbledore and Molly both told me to try to see you again. They're worried."

"I'm worried."

"But I can't. I don't think there are big enough rocks on the planet to keep me away from you when you're right here." He didn't offer any explanation of this oddity. "If I'd known you would be there, I'd have... I would have waited until..."

"Until I left?"

He nodded. "It's not fair. It's not fair, my doing this."

"Dumbledore didn't tell you I'd be there."

"I'm sure he had his reasons."

"Sure. He was tricking you into seeing me." She went to him, but didn't touch him. She could see him trembling. "I want you out of there," she said. "This is killing you."

"Everyone dies sometimes." He backed into the corridor. "I'm sorry I hurt you tonight. About the house. It's beautiful. And it's yours. Do with it as you will. Look in the dining room."

With that, and no goodbye at all, he fled down the corridor.

Tonks rummaged around her potions kit for a headache potion she was certain she had, but came up empty-handed. She thought about brewing one, but it would take less time to just go to sleep and hope it would pass by morning.

So she pulled on a cloak over her exercise clothes, checked to make sure no one was watching her, and returned to the Shrieking Shack.

Look in the dining room.

She leaned curiously around the door frame, using her wand to cast light into the shadowy space. She hadn't done much here yet, and it didn't appear that Remus had moved in any of the furniture or repaired any of cracks in the plaster on the w--

She stopped, her wand playing over the mantel.

The drawing he'd made of her, which she'd framed and then taken back down, was hanging neatly over the hearth.

She imagined him standing here after Dumbledore left, the skittish look on his face that had been there in the corridor outside her room.

Without knowing that she meant to do it, she strode over to the trap door in the entrance hall, dropped herself into the tunnel, and made the long, cramped trek to Hogwarts. She used the passage into the staff room that they'd chosen for nights they patrolled, and made her way up to Dumbledore's office without running into anyone. To her surprise, the gargoyle leapt aside without waiting for a password, and when she arrived at the office door, it was open.

"Ah," Dumbledore said from his desk, "Nymphadora. I've been watching you." He pointed down at a scrap of parchment on his desk which she recognized as a scribbled diagram they'd made to test ways to hide from the Marauder's Map. Dumbledore looked delighted. Beside the map, his Pensieve rested, full of silvery thoughts. "Ingenious spellwork. I've never had the opportunity to study the one in Harry's possession. They were always such clever boys. Did you need something?"

"You should have warned Remus that I would be there. He was upset."

"It was an oversight."

"Was it?"

Someone snorted on the wall, and she looked up to see Phineas rolling his eyes. "I'm sure," he said, "that the headmaster has more urgent matters than your love life to which he must attend."

"To the contrary, Phineas," Dumbledore said, "I consider Mr. Lupin's actions of late to be a rather high priority. He's in a sensitive position, and his behavior has been erratic. Had I stopped to consider the ramifications of forcing a meeting, I would have done so a good deal sooner. Alas, as it happened, it was merely an oversight." He gestured to a chair, and it moved up toward the desk. "Please sit down, Nymphadora."

She sat. "I'm sorry, sir. But you upset him a great deal. He came to see me--"

"I'm aware of that. He realized he'd treated you badly, and when we finished our conversation, he said he meant to offer an apology. Matters with Greyback's people have been pressing on him. I thought it would do him good to think about something outside of it."

"I don't think he can. He needs to get out of there."

Dumbledore nodded. "You'll have no argument from me. He brought valuable information that almost certainly saved a boy's life last night, though."

"Oh," Tonks said, nonplussed. She started to get up. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here. I worry. I worry too much. Winding my life up around Remus's. I should worry about other things."

"You do quite a lot of that as well," Dumbledore said, smiling. "I've been doing a great deal of thinking about our Mr. Lupin tonight as well," he said, gesturing at the Pensieve. "He's always been a very stubborn person in his own way. May I share a memory with you?"

Tonks felt a bit lost, but Dumbledore's mood seemed odd and brooding. "If you'd like."

He nodded and gestured for her to come around the desk, then took her hand and leaned over the Pensieve. From the top, she could only see a cloud of yellowish dust. They broke the surface, and fell into a room Tonks recognized immediately. It was the entrance to the Shrieking Shack, and the trapdoor was raised. The wood was rough and sawdust hung everywhere.

The shoulders of a much younger Albus Dumbledore emerged, and he pulled himself up into the house.

Beside her, the older Dumbledore smiled. "I generally Conjure a ladder now. At the time, I rather enjoyed the exercise."

There was a quick clack of heels from the kitchen, and a tall, thin woman appeared, biting her lip and looking frantic. Tonks didn't need to ask who she was--there was no way she could be anyone other than Remus Lupin's mother. She had his light brown eyes, his sharp, narrow nose, his bow-shaped mouth. Her light brown hair was even graying in the same pattern as his. In her lithe body, Tonks could see Remus's graceful movements. "Headmaster," she said, "I'm so sorry. I don't know where he found an owl. John is trying to talk to him, and he is in a great deal of trouble, but after everything you've done for us, I can't believe he'd write to try and decline--"

The younger Dumbledore patted her arm. "It's quite all right, Julia. I'm happy to talk to him, and I have already misplaced the letter he sent me. I'm quite hopeless that way."

"It was all he could talk about. Going to school, buying his books, getting a wand. You'd think no one else had ever gone to Hogwarts. And then, this." She rubbed her forehead. Tonks watched this with some fascination. It was exactly Remus's gesture. Her voice was wrong--shaky and a bit shrill in her nervousness--but other than that, she could be Remus as a woman.

"Where is he?"

"In the bedroom, upstairs."

She nodded toward the staircase, and Dumbledore went up it. Tonks and the older version of Dumbledore floated after him.

A young blond man was leaning against the wall beside a door, his arms crossed lightly, one quizzical eyebrow lifted, and again, Tonks would have needed no introduction. She'd seen his son in this casual pose so often that for a moment, she'd mistaken one for the other, though they didn't look alike. "Well, Remus," he said into the room, "the Headmaster himself has come to talk to you."

In the room, she heard a perfectly recognizable, if high-pitched, Hmmph.

John Lupin's amusement left his face, and he ducked into the room. Tonks could hear a quiet murmur of conversation, then he came back out. "He'll talk to you," Lupin said. "This is not his normal behavior. We plan to discuss it with him rather extensively."

"I'm sure he's just nervous."

"So is every other child boarding the Hogwarts Express next week."

"They're not werewolves!" a high voice yelled from the room.

"They're also not doing kitchen chores for the next several holidays," Lupin answered easily. "And yet, you are. The world is full of curiosities."

The younger Dumbledore smiled. "I'd like to talk to him alone if I may, John. Perhaps we can come to an understanding."

"He does want to go to school," Lupin whispered. "He's been excited about it. Please..."

He didn't finish the request and didn't need to. Dumbledore gave him an understanding nod and slipped around him into bedroom. Tonks and the older Dumbledore followed, unseen.

The younger Dumbledore looked around the room, which seemed to be empty at first glance, then smiled broadly. "Ah, Master Lupin," he said. "I'm glad to see you've found the furniture to your liking."

Tonks frowned, then realized that there was a barely perceptible lump in the bedclothes, only slightly bigger than one of the overstuffed pillows. Slowly, the edge of the blankets and sheets lifted, and a small, pale face appeared in the shadows of the fabric cave, framed by grubby boy's hands. Unknowingly, Remus Lupin looked directly at Tonks.

She looked at the thin boy on the bed (a bed she'd slept in several times this year) with some curiosity--she'd seen pictures of Remus as a child, but they'd always been with other boys his age, and it had never occurred to her how very small they'd all been then. He had smooth, unmarked pale skin, but other than that, his face had changed only minutely over the years--the chin filling out a bit, the nose spreading very slightly... the normal marks of adolescence. The boy now looking at her from under the covers was still very much alive in his adult face.

"Did you get my owl?" he asked the younger Dumbledore.

"I have temporarily lost my ability to read letters," Dumbledore said.

"I'm not coming."

"My hearing is no longer what it used to be, either."

"You can't make me."

At this, the older Dumbledore, standing beside Tonks, sighed heavily. "He was a stubborn boy."

The younger Dumbledore nodded and waved his hand toward a wing chair across the room. It glided over to him and he sat down in it. "That's quite true," he said. "I cannot force you to do a thing you don't want to do. Or, more properly speaking, I will not force you to do anything you don't want to do."

Remus looked at him quizzically, then flopped the blankets back over his head with a decisive move.

"Well," Dumbledore said, "I suppose you have at least acquired some furniture of which you are apparently fond."

Under the covers, Remus made a sound.

"I'm afraid I didn't quite catch that," Dumbledore said.

The covers came up. "Why? Why is there furniture? I'm only meant to transform here. I don't use furniture. I'll just..." He blushed and looked down. "I'll mark it," he said.

"You'll learn some cleaning charms."

"I'll break it."

"There are very simple charms for repairing things. We'll help you at first."

"But why do I need furniture?"

"It is cast off Hogwarts furniture. Your parents were kind enough to purchase it and store it here, which saved us the trouble of disposing of it. You would be surprised how difficult wizard-made furniture is to destroy." He pointed at the bed. "This bed belonged to a Headmaster. It had no place when I chose to replace it. Now it does. The same is true for everything else in this house."

Remus looked at him suspiciously. "I suppose..."

"Aren't you going to ask him why he's quitting school?" Tonks asked the older Dumbledore, who just smiled.

"It must be awfully warm under all of those blankets in the middle of August," the younger Dumbledore prodded.

Remus shrugged. "Maybe."

"When I visited you in your home, you weren't hiding. You showed me your books, as I recall. And I'm interested in how the hinkypunk you found is faring."

"He's fine. I let him back into the swamps. I don't have any books to show you here."

"You know you'll be able to bring them, don't you?"

Remus frowned, then threw the covers back and sat up. He was wearing battered cut-off blue jeans and a white t-shirt several sizes too large for him. Tonks was willing to guess it was his father's. "I read a book last weekend," he said.

"Oh?"

"It was all about hunting werewolves."

"I see."

"Mum and Dad said I shouldn't have read it."

"Where did you come by it?"

"At Flourish and Blotts, when we were getting my textbooks. It only cost me a sickle. It was used. Mum didn't know I'd bought it." He sighed and looked at his toes. "The werewolves were all out chasing people. Nobody knew who they were at first, but that was a mystery and it got solved. And a brave Auror went after them and killed them all. He got an award for it. Order of Merlin."

"Why did you buy that book?"

He shrugged. "It had a picture of a werewolf on the cover. I'd never read a story about a werewolf. Are all of them like that?"

"Quite unfortunately, most of them are."

"And everyone reads them."

"I imagine it to be a rather small subset of 'everyone.'"

"It's what everyone thinks, though. Sometimes people at the Registry look at me nastily when I go. I thought they were just nasty people, but everyone is like that, aren't they?"

"Mmm." Dumbledore didn't pursue this, though it was clearly at the top of Remus's mind. "In all of this thinking about a novel, did you have a chance to look at your textbooks?"

"Yes." Remus bit his lip. "Potions looks very difficult. But I liked the History of Magic one. Lots of good stories."

"Professor Binns will be delighted, or as delighted as he ever gets."

"Mum says Transfiguration was her favorite. I think I can learn that."

"Mmm."

"It's a bit late for Defense Against the Dark Arts. There's a chapter about avoiding werewolves. I don't know how I can do that." He shook his head, and Tonks saw in him the mixture of ages he had now--too old for himself in so many ways, but too young for himself in so many others. "Someone will figure it out. And they won't want me to stay."

"That's no one's choice except yours."

"That's why I wrote to you."

Dumbledore frowned, then stood and walked to the window, looking out over Hogsmeade. Tonks had stood at this same window, late at night, many times over the past few months. She knew he could see the turrets of Hogwarts in the distance. In the daylight, she supposed he might even be able to see the Quidditch goalposts, though she wasn't certain. "I've enlisted a handful of the Hogwarts ghosts to tell stories about this place. I believe they've spread rumors that we broke cursed ground and several particularly loud ghosts and a phalanx of ghouls have moved in. I understand it's quite the object of gossip."

"Right," Remus said, looking down. "I suppose... I know you've done a lot..." He chewed his lower lip miserably.

"I'm sure there will be other uses for all of it if you choose not to use it yourself. I daresay there are staff members who might be willing to buy it from your parents."

"Really?"

"Mmm. Quite. They would, of course, tell the thrilling tale of exorcising the vicious ghosts..."

"Why would ghosts be vicious? They can't even touch anything. How would they be vicious?"

"Ah, that's something you might cover in Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was taught in third year when I was a boy, but different teachers choose different schedules. Certainly, you will have covered it by fifth year." He looked over his shoulder. "Or would have, I suppose."

"I could read it myself," Remus said tentatively.

"That's true. And I understand your father rather likes teaching you, and certainly wouldn't object to staying out of his career for a few more years to continue doing so."

"That's cruel," Tonks said, watching Remus squirm. Neither Dumbledore acknowledged it.

"I can teach myself," Remus said. "He can work again. I can just have my books. I'm old enough to stay alone."

"How very dreary. Is that what you want?"

"I like my parents."

"They are lovely people. If I were to resolve to never speak to anyone else in the world, they would be a superb choice."

"That's not what I meant."

"Of course not. I merely followed your suggestion to its logical conclusion."

Remus set his jaw and said nothing.

"I'm quite certain it will be heavenly for you," Dumbledore went on. "But my concern is with the school. I should hate to see it deprived of you."

Remus rolled his eyes. "It's got along without me for a thousand years." He blanched. "Er, sorry. Sir."

Dumbledore fought a smile. "True, true. But for the next seven, I had thought it would get along a good deal better with you. I've been curious since our little talk, and thought quite frequently that I was eager to see what you would make of yourself. Ah, but an old man's curiosities aren't your concern, I suppose."

"I'm sure some other werewolf will come along."

"Master Lupin, your condition is of no interest whatsoever to me."

Remus looked up, completely taken aback. "But--"

"Oh, don't get me wrong. It is a matter of some importance for which we must make these complex accommodations, but I have known many werewolves, and I no longer find the condition itself particularly fascinating. No, Remus, it was that hinkypunk of yours that made me wonder. They're not easy to catch. Yet it responded to you so well. And you explained its care and feeding to me quite beautifully. Professor Kettleburn was quite looking forward to you when you reach third year."

"The hinkypunk?"

"And the drawings you've made, and the books we discussed." Dumbledore finally turned to look at him again. "I have known werewolves who are no more than their lycanthropy makes them, or who have allowed themselves to be no more. If such a werewolf's parents were to seek admission to Hogwarts for him, I would certainly do my best--I do not believe anyone is incapable of growth and change--but I doubt I would have been so eager to see him." He sighed and walked to the door. "Ah, well. I suppose I shall have to find my reading glasses after all. There's an owl in my office who has dropped off a letter. I'm afraid it may be disappointing news." He turned the doorknob.

"All right," Remus said quickly. "I'll go, all right." He flopped down on the bed again and pulled the covers up.

Dumbledore smiled. "Excellent. And Master Lupin?"

"What?"

"You will not be the only one frightened on your first day. I can promise you that with great certainty. I was quite terrified myself."

Remus peeked out from under the blankets, then let them fall again.

The older Dumbledore touched Tonks's elbow. "Shall we go?"

She nodded, and the scene sped down away from them until they landed with a thud in the headmaster's office.

"You know he was quite happy in school," Dumbledore said.

"I've had that impression."

Dumbledore stowed the Pensieve in its cupboard and sat down at his desk. "I have sent him directly to the one place he never should have been, the place his parents sacrificed everything they had to keep him from." He smiled bitterly. "I seem to be doing quite a lot of that."

Tonks went to the window. Somewhere in the dark distance--small and hidden by mist--was the Shrieking Shack. "Maybe he needed to go," she said, hating herself for saying it, but thinking of the frightened boy she'd seen and the terror that sometimes came into Remus's eyes when he touched her. "Maybe there are things he needed to understand."

"Maybe."

She shook her head. "But someday, I'd like to see Fenrir Greyback pay dearly for all of this."

"I very sincerely doubt that you're alone in that sentiment, Nymphadora."