By the time they reached Grimmauld Place, Dora had calmed down somewhat. Shedding the Dora Lewis appearance seemed to help her do this, though her spiky hair and smooth, unlined face went oddly with the old-fashioned string of pearls around her neck, or the new (but still horrid) cloth hat she'd bought so that she wouldn't need to keep borrowing Arabella's. Since Dora Lewis was also taller than Dora Tonks, she was tripping over the hem of her skirt as they walked two streets from the car park.

"Oh, bloody--" she muttered as they reached the door and she tripped into the wooden frame full tilt. "We'll be a matched set by the time we get inside."

"Why don't you just shrink the skirt?"

"The way I do householdy spells? I'd end up with my knickers showing."

Remus rolled his eyes; Dora's refusal to learn householdy spells was the only thing holding her back. Andromeda had learned them as a rebellion against her house-elf aided upbringing, but for Dora, they weren't rebellion, but conformity. "Would you like me to do it? I'm reasonably good with clothes. I don't have many and they often need fixing."

Dora thought about it and shook her head, opening the door. "We're home now. Well, you are, anyway, and I have some clothes that fit stowed here."

Miraculously, Dora's crash into the door hadn't awakened Mrs. Black's portrait, and they tiptoed by it (Dora sticking out her tongue) to keep that luck alive as they went down into the kitchen. Sirius, who had been crouched by the hearth jabbing his wand at a patch of stubborn soot he was trying to clean, stood up quickly. He was covered in ashes and dirt.

"What happened to you?" he demanded.

"His favorite student," Dora said. She manhandled him onto the bench by the table. "The Muggle bloke who looked at him said it wasn't anything to worry about."

"Well, we don't have to worry at all," Sirius said, pulling his wand.

Remus held up his hand. "Don't heal it."

"Why not?"

"Don't you think it would be a bit suspicious for an old man to be struck by a boxing champion and come back in two days with no bruise?"

Sirius grumbled, but lowered his wand, then changed his mind and used it to Summon the teapot and three mugs. He poured three cups. "What was he on about anyway?"

"He blames me for Joe's illness." Remus took his tea. "Joe was there, and he had a fainting spell. Dudley assumed I did it."

"Don't you think we should tell him he's doing it?" Dora asked, Summoning the sugar bowl for her usual four spoons. "I mean, at least he'll stay away from Joe if we do."

"Is there some reason we haven't done that?" Sirius asked.

"I don't know," Remus admitted. "I've toyed with the idea. Right now, there's just so little we can do about any of it, because of the damned Ministry. We can't get either one of them to St. Mungo's without bringing suspicion on the Order, and we can't even sneak them to Andromeda, with her under such tight surveillance."

"We really need to recruit some Healers," Dora said.

"Mmm." Remus let the steam from the teacup caress his bruised cheek for a moment. "And if I do tell Dudley, will he believe me? Or will he assume I'm lying to him? And if he thinks I'm lying, what will he do?"

No one had much to say to this.

Abruptly, Sirius gave a short bark of laughter.

"What is it?" Dora asked.

"Well, I don't know about you lot--well, about Remus, I suppose, since you wouldn't be thinking about it, Dora--but I've wondered where Lily was in that boy. I was right in the first place. He's definitely got the Evans temper."

Remus smiled, then winced as the swollen cheek protested the movement. "You're right."

"If Lily'd thought you'd hexed... who was her favorite teacher?"

"She was fond of Kettleburn."

"That's right. Why didn't I remember that?" Sirius looked annoyed with himself, then shook it off. "If she thought you'd hexed Kettleburn, she'd have cursed you into next year."

"I don't think it's quite the same," Remus said. Lily had been fond of Kettleburn, but Dudley loved Joe Levinson (though of course, he'd never, ever put it in so many words). After a lifetime of parents who had spoiled him madly but never believed in him at all--never believed he would succeed at anything... Well, it didn't matter. Unlike Lily, Dudley needed that personal interest level. Sirius was right--love or no love, Lily would have cursed them on sight for attacking anyone in her circle.

Sirius ignored his interruption anyway, his eyes getting bright with his vivid recollections. "I think Harry's got a bit of it," he said. "That night in Shrieking Shack... at least up until he let Wormtail go, that was pure James..." He sighed. "No one would have thought that about them, you know? That James was the forgiving one."

"No one except us," Remus said, letting his mouth simply fill in lines. James would have forgiven Peter--or at least given him a chance to live rather than die--but that was a far cry from calling him "the forgiving one."

"Well, of course."

Dora cleared her throat. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I think we ought to decide what to do about Dudley. Remus has already nixed my best idea, which was to hang him by his ankles in a dungeon and force him to listen to Celestina Warbeck on the wireless."

"Oh, she does have a cruel streak!" Sirius said, delighted. "I was beginning to wonder where your Black blood had gone."

"It doesn't take the weight of the family tree to be frustrated with Dudley Dursley," Dora said dryly. "And it's not like I'd actually do it. Just... fantasize about it."

Remus shook his head. "There are reasons to be frustrated with Dudley," he said. "But this?" He pointed to the bruise on his cheek. "This isn't one of them. This is because he's confused and frightened, not because he's bully. He's not a--" Remus stopped before using the word. "He's not an entirely lost cause. He's able to love someone."

He didn't really expect this to sway Sirius or Dora--they were both in full protective mode, and if he had learned one thing about the Blacks over the years, it was that this was not an easily altered state--and it didn't, but they did at least seem to realize that he wasn't interested in abusing Dudley right now. They looked at one another over his head, and Sirius shrugged and shook his head, as if to say, Well, what do you expect? It's Moony.

Remus had seen that particular bit of stage business from Sirius many times at Hogwarts--any time he'd started to object to a plan over the first few years, as a matter of fact. It's just Lupin being peculiar. Oh, Remus is antsy. Moony's having a conscience attack. It had bothered him at first, until he understood that Sirius actually ignored him when he didn't care. By the time he started making faces, he was uncomfortable with whatever he imagined Remus objecting to.

And Dora... was Dora. She didn't have Sirius's cruel streak, even if she had his imagination of it. But she had always, for some fully unfathomable reason, assumed that it was her duty to protect him, and Dudley's ill-advised strike had sealed her opinion, at least for now. She might suddenly change her mind and bring Dudley into her circle of care, and lash out at anyone who threatened him. But there would no longer be neutral ground on that front.

He gave up, excused himself, and went to bed. He could still hear the two of them talking when he fell asleep.

They didn't discuss Dudley the next morning (Dora went to her flat to sleep, but returned shortly after ten), instead choosing to work on clearing the mouldy cartons in the attic. Kreacher, who had been keeping himself scarce during the days lately, suddenly made his presence known by repeatedly "mistaking" discarded items for items that Master wanted put on prominent display in the main part of the house. After awhile, they took to simply destroying the items on sight, rather than collecting them for a larger destruction later.

It was early evening by the time they all nearly collapsed into the kitchen, covered with dust, meaning to get dinner and perhaps have a game of cards if they could agree on one. But when they got there, a veiled witch smoking a horrible pipe was already at the table.

"Dung!" Sirius said. "Don't mean to sound like Molly Weasley, mate, but do you really need to smoke that in here?"

"Oh, right," Mundungus Fletcher said, and put it out. "Sorry."

"Did you need something?" Remus asked.

"No, no. I've got news for you from Hogwarts. You're not going to like it."

"Is Harry all right?" Sirius asked immediately.

"What?" Dung asked. "Oh, right. Yea, Harry's fine. P'raps a mite sore."

"Sore?"

"Just a bit."

Remus held up his hand. "Start at the beginning, Dung. Please."

"What happened to your face?"

"I fell down the stairs," Remus said, surprised how easily the lie came. It had once seemed awkward to have members of the Order who didn’t know his business, but the old ways had certainly come back quickly.

"Picked up a bit of my clumsiness," Dora added for good measure.

"The beginning of the of what happened at Hogwarts?" Remus prodded.

"Well, I always loved Quidditch on a Saturday," Dung said, settling in for a tale. "My Mum got me in it, taking me out to see the Harpies when I was just a little thing..."

"Not quite that far back," Sirius said. "Why is Harry a bit sore?"

"Well, professional Quidditch has got expensive," Dung said, as though it were the most obvious response in the world. He looked quite insulted at the interruption. "An' if I'm in Hogsmeade, I go on up to Hogwarts. It's free there, and they're the same ones who end up playin' for the teams later, so I may as well see them now as then, when it's cheaper--"

"Dung."

"Right. So I went up t' the school," he said. "There was a Gryffindor-Slytherin match, and that's always good for a smile. Thought it would be a good way to pass the time. And keep an eye on Harry, of course," he added piously.

"Of course," Remus said.

Sirius gritted his teeth. "What. Happened."

"Well, the good news--for you lot, anyway, not me--is that Gryffindor won." He smiled eagerly, as if they'd been waiting for nothing else.

"I was a Hufflepuff," Dora said cheerfully. "I don't care a fig which of them won. What else happened?"

Dung stopped to blink at her in disbelief. "You? I'd never have reckoned you for a duffer."

"Reckon me for someone who earns a living," Dora said over-sweetly. "And if you insult my House again, I'm going to have to look in that satchel you're carrying." Dung paled. Dora's smile widened. "Now, what happened at the match?"

"Right, right." Dung cast his eyes down, and Remus watched him slowly inch his satchel under the chair with his feet as he spoke. "Well, they've picked the youngest Weasley boy for Keeper--"

"Harry," Sirius reminded him tightly.

"I'm getting there!"

"Ron must be pleased," Remus said.

"Reckon he's not very pleased today," Dung said. "That's where it started. He was nervous, so the Slytherins worked on him, of course. Way the game's played."

"Worked on him?" Dora repeated. "What do you mean, worked on him?"

"You know--tried to break his concentration and so on. Did quite a job of it, too. Wrote a song saying he couldn't catch anything and... well, honestly, I'm an old Snake, but I thought maybe it went a little far. Talked about his family... born in a bin, I think they said."

Even Sirius forgot for a moment about Harry being slightly sore. Remus struggled to get a complaint in edgewise between Dora and Sirius, who were speaking over one another in a pitched duet of obscenities, some of which he hadn't been aware Dora ever used.

"--my bloody cousin--"

"--of course Harry was--"

"--the damnable ba--"

"--and you sit there as if it's--"

"--normal in any way!" Dora finished. They were both standing now, hands on their hips, hovering over Dung.

Dung looked deeply impressed. "Anyway," he said, "the Weasley boy, the younger one--"

"Ron," Remus said.

"Right, Ron. He let it get to him, and he missed a block or two. Harry caught the Snitch and ended the game ahead." He shook his head. "Gryffindor always goes for the Snitch too early. Takes the fun out of it. You take a good Slytherin Seeker, he'll see it right off, but let it go. Makes for a better game, especialy when people are watching--"

"Dung."

Dung nodded in an irrtated way. "So after Harry caught the Snitch, one of the Slytherin Beaters--a right stupid one--lobbed a Bludger at him."

"After he caught the Snitch?" Sirius asked, incredulous.

"Mmm." Dung put his finger in his mouth and picked something out of his teeth. "Then... I didn't hear everything after his, mind... the Malfoy boy went over and started going on about things. I'd guess it was about the song and the Weasleys, because the twins started in. One of the girls on the team caught on of them, and Harry caugh the other. And the Malfoy boy kept going, which was stupid, and then I heard..." He winced. "Well, I didn't hear everything, but it sort of carried when Malfoy said, 'your mother'--"

"He insulted... Lily?" Sirius said, the hot fury gone from his voice and replaced with something lower and more threatening.

Dung nodded solemnly. "Harry let go of the twin he was holding onto, and the pair of them had at the Malfoy boy until Madam Hooch pulled them away."

"They cursed him?"

"No, they hit him. With fists." Dung pantomimed fighting, as Dora had last night when describing Bill Weasley's pub brawl. "Minerva McGonagall marched them right off the field, and then--"

"And Malfoy just got away with it?" Sirius asked, apparently not grasping the point of Dung's story.

"He's in the hospital wing," Dung said. "Didn't I tell you? Or they were taking him there when I left, anyway."

Sirius sat down. "I see. How much trouble is Harry in? Did you hear? I doubt Minerva would put up with much of that."

Dung nodded. "She saw me there, so when she was finished up, she came to the village, had dinner at the pub. I was still dressed as a witch, so I pretended to be an old school chum. She wanted to give them detention for a full week, probably take some house points."

"That sounds fair," Remus said. "I'd thought it would be worse."

"It is!" Dung assured him, warming to his story again. "That Umbridge woman the Ministry's got up there has gone at got herself some new rules."

"What does Umbridge have to do with disciplining Gryffindors?" Remus asked. "That should be Minerva. Or Albus if it's something particularly important."

"Well, it's Umbridge now. Kicked the both of them off the team, and the twin that didn't get into it."

"For how long?" Dora asked.

"Permanently, McGonagall says. She's never going to let them back on the team. And she took their broomsticks."

"She has no right to do that!" Sirius bellowed. "I gave him that damned Firebolt, and he has a right to fly it whenever he wants. It's his. Bad enough they took it when they thought I put a curse on it, but to just take it for spite--"

"And Harry loves flying so," Dora said. "Poor Harry!"

Remus found his tongue blocked, unable to even begin to articulate his position. In fact, he didn't think he'd quite be able to do it until next Wednesday night, when the moon was full, and he could give it a proper howl, one of the few benefits of his non-human form.

Not only had Umbridge misused her position; she had deliberately altered centuries of Hogwarts tradition in order to persecute Harry.

Unless she was doing it to all of them.

He shook his head, dazed, and finally said, "Have you heard anything else about the way she treats students, Dung?"

"Well, judgin' from what I heard at the Hogs Head, they don't much like her. Mind, they don't much like Severus, either, and he's not stealing their broomsticks. Just a bit strict."

"And vindictive," Sirius muttered automatically, but didn't follow up. Dung went on and told them a few scattered tales from Hogsmeade--none of any great interest--then begged a chicken sandwich from Dora and left.

"You know," Sirius said, coming down the stairs after re-locking the front door, "I'm wanted for murder anyway. I could kill Umbridge. I don't think anyone would really blame me."

"Sirius--"

"I'm not kidding. I'm really not."

Dora sighed. "Sirius, you're innocent. I'm so glad to have you back. And if you go off and murder Dolores Umbridge, so help me, I'll arrest you myself."

Sirius frowned at her, then sighed and sat down. "So far, this woman has managed to wreck Remus's life--except when he's playing at being a Muggle--and is in the process of driving Harry mad. Do you have any idea what to do about her?"

"If she were using Dark Magic, I could go after her," Dora said. "Unfortunately, I have more on my own mother than I have on Umbridge, as far as Dark spells and artifacts go. Umbridge is just playing politics."

"I'll bet she's using something. Moody'd be searching her office by now."

"Only if she already had a Dark Magic connection. And for the rest of us, we'd have to get permission from Fudge to go search someone's office. He's quick enough on raids of old supporters of You-Know-Who, but how quick d'you think he'll be to give us leave to go through Umbridge's things? We can't search unless we're perfectly certain that we'll find something, and without any connections between her and the Death Eaters, we can't really say she's anything more than a nasty, power-hungry conniver who's fanatically loyal to Fudge."

"And Fudge doesn't hold any of those things as probable crimes," Remus said.

"And we're absolutely certain about not killing her?"

"Yes," Remus and Dora both said. Sirius didn't sound particularly intense about it now, and Remus thought the likelihood of him actually acting on it was slim, but he promised himself that he'd keep a better eye on Sirius for the next few weeks. After the business with the Dursleys, the full moon, and the question of Joe's illness had been addressed, of course.

And of course, if he could work on the question of Dolores Umbridge, he would.

Sirius was angry with her on Harry's behalf, and Remus supposed he himself was as well--the idea that she'd mistreated Harry was intolerable by itself--but he was also deeply offended by her, and by the destruction she was wreaking at Hogwarts. He didn't try to express it to Sirius, who would think his priorities were skewed, or to Dora, who loved her memories of her days at school but didn't love the school itself in any particularly strong way. To watch a cruel bureaucrat systematically destroy the one of the oldest magical schools in the world was...

Simply offensive. There was no other word for it.

And Remus felt utterly powerless to stop her. Even without his lycanthropy to factor in, he knew of no roads into the political world, and couldn't have expressed himself to those who didn't already feel it even if it he did know of them. He was forced to simply watch it happen.

It wasn't easy to sleep that night. Remus's mind kept roaming to Hogwarts, and he came close several times to simply flooing to the Common Room to check on Harry himself. He wasn't, after all, wanted for murder. He was, however, in the headquarters of an illegal organization, and the floos were monitored. He didn't know exactly how the Fidelius Charm would work if Umbridge grabbed hold of his head and was dragged back--there had to be some contingency, but he didn't care to test it and find out what it was.

On Sunday, Phineas Nigellus reported from Dumbledore, informing them that Hagrid had returned ("in somewhat sorry shape," Nigellus had commented), that there was nothing whatsoever that could be done about Harry's broom ("Perhaps the boy can keep his mind on his school work now"), and that no, he--Dumbledore--wasn't able to share the secret of the headquarters' location with Andromeda Tonks at the present time. "He failed to explain himself adequately on that count," Nigellus finished with a rather indignant sniff.

During the afternoon, Dora came over in a temper, waving a letter of resignation that she intended to tender to the Ministry over Umbridge's behavior. Kingsley Shacklebolt, already present to fill them in on a few more details about Hagrid's mission, tossed it into the fire and told her that he'd expect her in the morning. It was not, he reminded her, any time to call attention to them.

Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour joined them for dinner, which turned out to be a pleasant three-hour abuse of the Ministry of Magic and all of its works. By the time they'd put out the pudding (a lovely pastry Fleur had made, and bragged of having taught Molly to make--she seemed pleased to know a recipe that Molly didn't), Emmeline Vance and Hestia Jones had come. Sirius remained in a good mood for nearly an hour after the last guest left.

When Remus arrived at Smeltings on Monday morning to teach his second-form class, he found Blythe waiting in the corridor with a young man Remus didn't know, who was briefly introduced as "Mr. Gorm."

"He'll be taking your second and first form classes this morning," Blythe said. "The Dursleys should be here at any minute, and you did ask to meet with them." He herded Remus down the corridor toward the faux marble staircase. Remus waved distractedly at Daniel Morse, who was poking his head out of the door in a confused way, but that was all he saw of his class that day. "I should warn you," Blythe went on as they hurried down the stairs, "Vernon Dursley is somewhat irate."

"Will Dudley be there?"

"He'll wait outside."

Blythe rushed Remus into the school's lobby, then into the antechamber outside the Headmaster's office. Dudley Dursley was sitting on a wooden bench beside the door, a very thin, pinched-looking woman beside him, patting his shoulders and making an oversweet cooing sound. A huge man with a red face was pacing the narrow room until Blythe and Remus came in, at which point, he stopped and glared at them through beady eyes.

So these were the Dursleys. Remus tried and failed to imagine Harry living in the same house with them.

"Mr. Dursley, good morning," Blythe said. "This is Raymond Lewis, Dudley's history teacher. Mr. Lewis, Vernon Dursley, Dudley's father."

Remus nodded and extended his hand. Vernon Dursley didn't shake it. Remus waited to be presented to Petunia, but wasn't.

Blythe led them into the office, instructing Dudley to remain on the bench.

"Who do you think you are?" Vernon demanded as soon as the door was shut, quite loudly enough to carry through the oak.

"The Headmaster of Smeltings," Blythe said coolly, sitting down behind his desk. Any nervousness Remus had noted in the hall disappeared. "Please sit down."

Vernon didn't seem likely to do it, but Petunia had already taken a seat, and pulled on his hand. He sat heavily, the wooden chair creaking alarmingly under his weight. Warily, Remus took the only remaining visitor's chair, the one that he supposed was usually reserved for the student in question.

"I want my son back on that team," Vernon grumbled. "He's the Junior Heavyweight Inter-school Champion of the Southeast."

"A title which he earned with distinction," Blythe agreed. "But a boxer--even above other athletes--most be able to control his temper, and Dudley simply hasn't. He didn't have a clean record before this, and I'd ask you to look at what he did to Mr. Lewis's face."

Vernon and Petunia both glanced over, eyes flat, hateful, and rather empty.

"What did he do to make Dudley angry?" Vernon asked, turning back to Blythe. "Was Dudley defending himself from some sort of perversion? I hear about that sort of thing all the time, you know."

"Mr. Lewis's conduct is above reproach," Blythe said. "And if that had ever been in any doubt, Smeltings would not, I assure you, protect him. Your son attacked him for no reason whatsoever."

"You're lying," Petunia said, speaking to someone other than Dudley for the first time. Her voice was tremulous, her lips tight. "My Dudders wouldn't do that."

Blythe frowned, and looked like he was ready to produce Dudley's disciplinary file or some other such nonsense, which would only make the Dursleys more defensive. "He believed he was defending Joe Levinson," Remus said quickly.

"Levinson... his old coach?" Vernon asked, furrowing his brow ponderously and looking suspicious.

"Yes. He had a fainting spell while he was attending the match. Dudley apparently thought I was responsible."

Petunia frowned. "Why would he think that?"

"Which brings us to the other issue I want to discuss," Blythe said delicately, looking down at his desk, where he was lining up small brass tacks along the edge of the ink blotter. "Dudley's behavior has been... somewhat abnormal. I think he would benefit from--"

"MY SON IS NOT ABNORMAL!" Vernon interrupted, standing. "My son is... is... is the Junior Heavyweight Inter-school Boxing Champion of the Southeast!" he said again, waving his fist in the air in triumph.

"--from a visit to a counselor," Blythe finished, as though he had never been interrupted at all. He looked like he wanted to recommend that Vernon make such a visit as well, but didn't quite dare.

"MY SON ISN'T MAD!" Vernon pounded his ham-sized fist down on the table. "This school has gone markedly downhill since I attended and--"

Blythe stood up. "Mr. Dursley, perhaps you and I should speak alone for a moment. Mr. Lewis, will you take Mrs. Dursley and Dudley out onto the grounds? It's a lovely morning." He didn't look at Remus as he said this, instead staring Vernon Dursley down. "I will have my secretary get you in a moment."

Remus expected Petunia to object, but she didn't. She looked pale and very drawn.

He took her elbow and led her outside.

"I heard that," Dudley said, standing. "What, does he think my Dad's crackers now? Is that what he's on about?"

"I'm not sure," Remus said. "Let's go outside."

They went out into the cold sunshine--it was pretty, but not pleasant--and sat down on a half-frozen metal bench.

Petunia's mouth curled up bitterly, and for the first time, Remus saw a ghost of Lily in the sallow woman. Lily had not been habitually cynical, but when James had tried to tell her that no one would care if he, as a scion of a pure-blood family, married a Muggle-born girl, she had turned to him with this same odd, cold expression, the corners of her mouth forming the sharp edges of a reaper's scythe. Petunia's face wrinkled naturally along its lines--it was obviously not an unusual expression for her. "So," she said. "Did Dumbledore send you, or are you meddling on your own?"

Remus glanced around quickly, and kept his voice low. "I was sent to look after Dudley."

"He's making Mr. Levinson ill," Dudley said. "He wanted to come here and spy on me, so he made him ill, and he did it again at the match. I saw him."

"I'm not here to spy on you," Remus said. "I'm here to protect you, since the protections on your home don't extend to you here." He looked at Petunia. "I imagine I made several mistakes that Dudley noticed. How did you know?"

"My son isn't mad," Petunia said coldly. "If he believed you made Levinson faint, then he must have had a reason for it. And I know your sort. You think you can just manipulate normal people whenever you please."

Dudley shifted uncomfortably.

"I have nothing to do with Joe's illness. We didn't realize it was a Curse until I got here."

"Of course not."

"I know you've been told about Voldemort's return--"

"Are you one of his? Going after the rest of my family?"

"No. I'm here because we worried that someone might think of you, and think of Dudley as an easy way to--"

"HARRY??" Petunia finished, her eyes flaring open. "Of course. Oh, of course. It's not about looking after Dudley. You're just afraid that he might accidentally lead someone to your precious Harry Potter, aren't you?"

"Well, that's not the sole reason. We want to help."

"Oh, really."

"Of course."

She pressed her tongue up against her teeth, causing her thin lips to push outward, then released it in a pointed, tsk. "Then tell me something, will you?"

"What?"

"Why weren't you around to keep that old Jew from being cursed?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said it yourself. You didn't even know he'd been cursed. Got that second hand. Because of course, he had nothing to do with my sister's brat. So he didn't warrant your attention at all."

If Petunia hadn't insulted Harry in the course of the sentence, Remus would have agreed with her--it had been a failure of law enforcement that no one had noticed such a powerful curse, and the magical community did tend to be isolated, although it had its reasons. But after all she'd done to Harry--locking him in his room, using him as a household slave for all intents and purposes, hurling things at him, cutting him down verbally--hearing her call him a brat and claim that he was lavished with the very attention she allowed him to starve for made it impossible for him to agree with anything she had to say.

"Someone," he said tightly, "really ought to be looking after Harry at some point."

She gave him an inscrutable look, then looked at Dudley. "Dudders, I want you to tell me, right away, if he does anything he oughtn't. No pig's tails or swollen tongues or waving his wand at you to make you... do things." She shuddered, and Remus wondered if Lily had played a magical prank or two when she wasn't supposed to. "Don't bother with a letter. Call me on the telephone. I might not be able to say what he really did, but I could cause him enough trouble that they'd run a check on his history." She gave Remus that cold, scythe-smile again. "And that wouldn't be good for you, would it?"

Blythe's secretary came out of the school and scurried over to them, rubbing her bare arms against the chill. "You may all come inside now," she said, then ran back in without waiting.

Vernon Dursley was still harumphing in Blythe's office when they got there, but he'd stopped shouting. Blythe informed them heavily that expulsion had been avoided, but yet another note on bullying had been added to Dudley's file. He threatened to report Dudley to law enforcement if he caught him hitting people outside of the boxing ring again.

"Then I'm back on the team?" Dudley asked, incredulous.

"That's up to you," Blythe said. "If you'll see our psychologist--"

"He doesn't need to have his bloody head shrunk," Vernon said.

"--and he approves of it, you may return to the team in one month."

"And if I don't want to go?"

"Then it's permanent."

The three Dursleys conferred about this for some time, and ultimately, Dudley agreed to the terms. Vernon still looked annoyed with it, and Petunia was actively angry. Remus could see it in her eyes--You know the truth, yet you let them label my son mad?

Vernon and Petunia left the grounds, gliding silently away in their anonymous car, toward their anonymous suburban street. Remus stood three steps above Dudley in the front of the school.

Dudley's back was to him. "Don't worry," he said glumly. "I know what lies to tell in counseling."

He walked past Remus and back into the building, his hands in his pockets, his mouth drawn in a deep frown.

He didn't come to class that afternoon.

Dudley wasn't in Remus's timetable the next day, so it wasn't unusual that they didn't see one another, though it was beginning to make Remus nervous to have heard nothing about him. He wasn't around the grounds, and according to Baden, he'd been spotted in the gymnasium, watching the team practice and sulking in the shadows. He had refused to talk to anyone.

Dora rolled her eyes at him over lunch and changed the subject on Tuesday, but by the time she arrived for Wednesday's final dose of Wolfsbane before the night's transformation and neither Remus nor any of the other teachers had seen Dudley in class for two days, she was taking it more seriously.

"Have they sent anyone to check on him at all?" she asked. "His head-of-house, or whatever they call it here?"

"Baden went. Dudley's claiming a slight cold, but he's apparently not at all congested. According to Baden, the dormitory is dark and cluttered--"

Dora raised an eyebrow. "As opposed to every other teenager's dormitory you've ever seen? And have you seen my flat lately? Looks like I've been cluttering it for two years, and I only moved in a couple of weeks ago."

"I suppose that may be something of an overreaction." Remus gulped down his Potion and wrinkled his nose. "But it's not as though Dudley can afford to miss classes. He's behind a great deal of the time when he's there."

"Well, you can talk to him when you come back on Friday, if he doesn't make it to class this afternoon. You are staying away tomorrow, aren't you?"

"I suppose it's better if I do. I'm allowed to be ill two for days in any given month without showing proof of it." He sighed. "I had to cancel a history club meeting this afternoon. Night is falling earlier now. I told them I was feeling a bit under the weather."

"Oh, is that what that thing on your desk's about? The picture of the woman in the short skirt with the needle?"

Remus nodded. "Stephen Wells and Andrew Ketterling left that taped to the back blackboard. It's just a get-well card; she's meant to be a Muggle Healer, I think. I think they were trying to rattle me before first-form, but I always roll up the board and check behind it before the boys come in."

"Are you going to do anything about it?"

"I already did. I drew two boys in Smeltings uniforms being very surprised when they find a prank in their notebooks in Latin class." He smiled. "I left it in Andrew's satchel on my way here."

"Hmph. You should have drawn me going after that Healer with her own needle," Dora said, grinning. "I don't think I've seen you draw since the Christmas I was... eleven, I think? The year I had found that huge bow at Oxfam and I was wearing it everywhere. Granny'd just had her first batch of kittens, and you drew pictures of them all on the ribbon part."

"I'd forgot all about that."

"I hadn't. I was wearing the thing all year because I lost a bet with Charlie Weasley in October. He made me keep wearing it, kittens and all, 'til Hufflepuff had beat both of the the other houses."

"Well, why did you let me do it, then?"

"Because you were my dear Mr. Lupin and you were paying attention to me," she said lightly. She leaned over and kissed his nose. "Have you finished with the Potion?"

Remus handed her the thermos. "Well, I'm sorry I embarrassed you."

Dora stood and ruffled his hair with one hand. "It was twelve years ago, Remus. I've got over it." Her hand trailed lightly across his temple, and he stifled a mad, moon-driven urge to kiss her fingers. She took a few steps away and looked out the window at the grounds as re-packed the picnic basket. "When Dudley does show up," she said, "I think you should take a chance on telling him what we do know. I wouldn't want him deciding to go visit Joe and Miriam."

Remus nodded.

"Are you going back to Auntie's before moonrise?" Dora asked.

"I'll have to leave from here. Will you stay with Sirius for a bit tonight?"

"I have to keep my watch, but I'm taking over from Bill. I'll send him over. Sirius likes Bill all right, and Bill knows what's what."

"It's not the same as family."

"No, but it'll have to do for tonight, unless you're a lot more personable transformed than you've led me to believe."

She didn't hug and kiss him on her way out as she normally did--she was apparently becoming accustomed to the rhythms of his behavior--but she gave him one last cheerful smile and wave when she looked up at the window from the car park. He waved back.

Dudley didn't show up for class, though he'd sent along his uninspired list of answers to Monday's homework questions with Piers Polkiss. Stephen Wells apologized for his earlier joke and proferred a wish for a speedy recovery, along with the suggestion that he could always cut class a bit short, just one day.

Remus declined, and went through the material without rushing. There would be time to get to tonight's transformation site (a roomy one this time, in an abandoned barn not far from where he'd grown up) as long as he didn't procrastinate after hours.

The shadows were long by four o'clock, when class ended. The wind continued chilly, and Remus noticed with some trepidation that the clouds were moving in. He wasn't thinking of much more than the dread of a delayed transformation when he got off the lift to get his things from the office.

"Can we talk?"

He stopped outside the door.

Dudley Dursley was sitting on the floor of the corridor across from Remus's office, his knees drawn up, picking at bits of paper caught in the spiral of his notebook, not looking up.

"Dudley. Everyone's been concerned."

Dudley grimaced, and used one sausage-sized finger to pry at a tiny paper-shaving. He extracted it and flung it away. "Can we talk?" he asked again.

"Any time you'd like to."

"Now."

"Except now."

Dudley drew himself up to his full height, but didn't move in any threatening way. "Everyone says you're all right. Mr. Levinson called me on the telephone today and told me to go back to class, and that you were all right. You didn't... make him do that, did you?"

"No. I had no idea he would."

Dudley frowned. "If you're not doing it--and mind, I'm not saying that I believe that--then what's happening?"

"Dudley, we can talk on Friday. I'll tell you everything we know, which isn't all that much--"

"Tell me now."

"I can't. It will take some time, and I haven't got it."

"You can make time for those nancies in history club, and to listen to every bloody speech in debate club, but you won't do it for me?" He shook his head. "I should have known."

"Dudley, I'm sorry--"

"I talked to that old fruit Blythe told me to see. What do you reckon he'd say if I told him about magic wands and Dementoids that make you hear--?" he stopped. "That make you hear things."

"Don't try to tell him about the Dementors, Dudley. But tell me when I get back on Friday."

"Why should I? I'm the only person in this school you don't want to see."

"Dudley--"

"Sod off." Dudley pushed past him and headed for the lift.

Remus watched him go, cursing the moon. A part of him was trying to count minutes that he might have to go catch Dudley and talk to him, but that was the part that had set an uncontrolled werewolf loose at Hogwarts. He didn't have the luxury of overestimating.

He took a deep breath, then went into his office and gathered the few things he would need. Alan was taking a day's leave and Dudley was the only person he'd seen in the building.

He Disapparated from behind his desk.