Christmas at Hogwarts passed without incident - no break ins, no threats on the castle, and very little mention of Sirius Black. The Daily Prophet continued with the usual reports on the convict, but it had been a while since the front page had been splashed with his picture.
The holidays passed too quickly for your liking. Fourteen days spent on the grounds with snowflakes collecting on your eyelashes, nights by the fire exchanging gifts and eating cookies with your friends were now all blurred together; a fond memory. The castle's decorations - thick streamers of holly and mistletoe, mysterious lights inside every suit of armour and the Great Hall's usual twelve Christmas trees glittering with golden stars - had all been taken down, but the blankets of snow outside would stick around until at least February.
You spent your vacation enjoying your time with your friends, all the while pondering what you'd learned from eavesdropping in Hogsmeade during your last visit. You spent just as much time telling yourself to relax and stop worrying as you did actually worrying.
It didn't seem like you were the only one. Even though Ron and Hermione opted to stay at the castle instead of going home for Christmas, Harry kept himself locked in his dormitory for most of the time. It was clear that he too hadn't recovered from what he'd overheard in the Three Broomsticks. No one who had also been listening could blame him.
Since Hogsmeade, you'd done your best to not worry about Harry. You suppressed your worries about Lupin as well. Now, more than ever, you had valid reason to be suspicious of the man, but you still couldn't rationalize him being involved. Regardless of how tightly knit they might have been during their school days, anyone would've had to be insane to help Sirius Black hurt Harry.
In fact, Lupin hadn't seemed up to helping anyone during Christmas. He had frequented the hospital wing more than any other part of the castle. During the feast when you noticed his chair at the staff table was empty, McGonogall informed you he had fallen ill again.
At this point, you were more curious as to what ailment was constantly affecting him and less interested in his connection to Sirius Black. It seemed less and less important every time you thought about it. Dumbledore trusted Lupin. That was all that mattered.
Nearly two weeks ago you rang in the New Year in the boisterous Gryffindor common room, receiving your new term timetable the next morning at breakfast. On Christmas Day, when you'd received a hand knit sweater from Mrs. Weasley (albeit a couple sizes too big) and a large package of treats from back home, you felt as though you'd never have another worry in the world. Now, however, not even all the homemade fudge or Zonko's products in the world would ease the workload that the upcoming term would present you with.
Your O.W.L.S. were starting to loom over you. Several of your friends sent letters over the break, complaining about their parents who bombarded them with questions regarding their future ambitions and current grades the second they arrived back home. You suspected avoiding this pestering was exactly why the twins had stayed at school for the holidays.
If anything was bothering you, it was your apparent late entrance into your exam preparation. You'd been certain that students wouldn't start studying until their head of house gave further instructions, but you were wrong. Only two weeks of the new term had passed, yet you often left the library empty handed. Every book you wanted to use to study, someone else had wanted just a little more. The library was frequented by more fifth years than ever before.
Fifth years weren't the only ones spending copious amounts of time studying. It wasn't uncommon to find Hermione with her nose in a book, but she'd practically done nothing but read since Christmas. You'd seen her with several books unrelated to third year curriculum, but you couldn't for the life of you figure out what she was doing so much research for.
It wasn't until one Friday morning, the second Friday of the new term, that she finally let you in on her secret project.
You arrived in the Great Hall after a successful library visit, sitting down for breakfast with several new books on Potions theory. Tired students stumbled in as you read, and the table filled up with your dreary eyed friends. Just down the table from where you sat, Hermione was buried in a rather large book while Harry and Ron practically dozed off on either side of her.
You got a solid 15 minutes of uninterrupted reading done, but when Fred and George arrived and immediately started telling you about their weekend plans to switch all of the labels on Snape's ingredients cupboards around, you abandoned your studying.
As they talked, you couldn't help but notice in the corner of your eye that Hermione had pulled herself out of her book. She was whispering to Harry and Ron about something that looked rather serious, shooting glances in your direction. You considered asking them if everything was alright, but Hermione spoke before you did.
"Y/N," the girl said suddenly. "Have you learned anything about magical creature trials in History of Magic?"
You considered this for a moment. When you'd noticed them whispering, it hadn't appeared they were saying anything bad. The question, however, was not what you'd been expecting. "Not much this year, but we did last year. Why?"
The girl glanced around, particularly eyeing the staff tale and the Slytherin table behind you.
"We visited Hagrid on Christmas," Hermione told you, indicating Harry and Ron. "He told us Buckbeak's being brought in front of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures."
You thought briefly back to Christmas, when you'd seen the three of them trudging across the snow covered grounds to Hagrid's hut. All of them were rather solemn for the rest of the night upon their return, and only now did you understand why.
"What?" you asked in disbelief. "Why?"
"Malfoy," Harry replied.
Of course. It made perfect sense. If Draco's cries of a faux near death experience had made it back home, there was no doubt in your mind that Lucius Malfoy had taken it as his opportunity to rain hell upon Hagrid. You glanced over your shoulder towards the Slytherin table. Through the sea of black robes and green scarves, you found the boy's head of platinum blond hair.
"Git," Fred, who had turned around too, muttered.
You refocused on Hermione. "When?"
"April 20th," she said. About 4 months away. "Hagrid needs to prove that Buckbeak is safe. I've told him I would help build his defense, but I haven't found anything of use yet."
You wracked your brain, thinking of how you could help. "I wrote an essay comparing full creature and half-human trials during third year. I'm sure I read about a case of Hippogriff-baiting to help strengthen my point. I can go to the library and see if I can find the books I used."
Hermione smiled. "Thank you so much."
A bell rang somewhere deep in the castle. You gathered your bag, ready to head to your first class. Before getting up, you considered telling the girl to go a little easier on herself. Now that she'd taken on the task of helping Hagrid, she just had another thing to do. On countless occasions you'd seen her snap at Ron and Harry for suggesting she stop doing homework, so you decided against it.
You and your friends made your way through the castle to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. It was here where you found a class half full of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, and an empty teacher's desk. This was no surprise to you. At this point, it was less common to see Lupin actually sitting at his desk than it was for it to be empty.
"No Lupin?" George asked, stopping in the doorway.
"Oh, what?" Fred groaned. "Do you reckon he's ill again?"
"I suppose," you said absentmindedly, worriedly eyeing Lupin's empty desk.
Fred shook his head decisively. "I mean it this time, if Snape takes over -"
"You'll skive off, we know," Lee finished for him, heading for his desk. The three of you followed.
The class was left unsupervised for a few more seconds. Hurried footsteps (that sounded like heels clicking on the cobblestones and not large dress shoes) came from down the hall, as did the sound of tiny bells and heavily decorated jewellery pieces knocking against each other.
Professor Trelawney's overwhelming flower perfume crossed the threshold before she did. By the way Fred's head hit his desk in absolute defeat, you guessed he would've preferred Snape.
"Apologies, dear children," Trelawney said as she swept towards the front of the room. "I have been crystal gazing. I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness..."
"Where's Professor Lupin?" you asked. At this point, the question was a reflex.
The woman adjusted her overly large frames. "I'm afraid that poor Professor Lupin is ill again. In fact, I knew long ago I would be here with you all today. But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous."
"That explains a great deal," the boy next to you muttered.
"If you must know, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long," Trelawney said seriously. "He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him -"
"Imagine that."
You couldn't leave the room fast enough when the lunch bell rang, wanting nothing more than to relax after the headache that was Trelawney teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Passing by a window, you saw the dry chimney and dark windows of Hagrid's Hut, which only motivated you more to find anything you could to help Buckbeak's defense as soon as possible. So, not feeling particularly hungry, you made your way to the library for the second time that day.
It was bustling, full and as loud as it could be under the watchful eye of Madam Pince. You passed alphabetized shelves of fiction texts and textbooks organized by subject before finding the section where magic history and creature related books overlapped. You said brief hello's to familiar faces that passed where you sat, but for the most part, read uninterrupted.
After having no luck with several thick creature texts, you switched to historical encyclopedias. While flipping through a particularly beat up copy of a book on 18th century half-breed laws, a shadow fell over you.
You glanced up, finding a boy wearing a yellow and black tie and a soft smile.
"Hi Cedric."
"Hi, Y/N. O.W.L.S.?" the boy asked curiously, nodding to the book as he sat down across from you.
You shook your head. "Just some light reading."
Cedric grinned. "I've been walking around for fifteen minutes trying to find 'Magical Drafts and Potions'. I left mine at home by accident over Christmas."
"I just took out the last copy of that this morning," you revealed, continuing quickly. "If you're looking for the 'Ingredient Encyclopedia' I've got that as well."
His mouth fell open slightly, feigning personal offence to you having taken out a public library book. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Suppose if you're going to take out the books I need, we have to start studying together again."
"I suppose it does," you agreed with a smile.
"Hey, Y/N."
You glanced away from Cedric at the new voice. The lingering smile from his previous words dropped almost immediately as your eyes landed on the person standing in front of you.
It was a girl. Her red Gryffindor tie was a painful contrast to her bright blue eyes and nearly platinum blonde hair. She had a face that made her look more like a third year than a fifth year.
You recognized her immediately - Lila Miller, whom many said had been wrongfully sorted because of her Hufflepuff qualities, but who you knew in no way fit the 'kind' criteria.
Lila Miller, leader of a tightly knit Gryffindor friend group who had done an exceptional job of harassing you the previous year about the Chamber of Secrets. She had spearheaded the speculation that, because of your family lineage, you just had to have been involved. Several years ago you'd beat her for the spot as Gryffindor chaser and she'd had it out for you ever since.
She had nothing to taunt you about, no rumours to spread, no vile accusations to send your way. So, you couldn't possibly figure out what she was doing trying to talk to you now.
You shot a hesitant glance at Cedric. He seemed equally as confused. "Hey."
The girl smiled. Sweet. Innocent. Showing off her teeth that seemed a little too white. Tilting her head in a friendly, meek sort of way. "I don't know if you remember me, I'm -"
"I know who you are," you cut her off bluntly.
You had a feeling no one had spoken a curt word to Lila Miller in her life. Either that or you were blissfully unaware of how intimidating you were. The girl practically jumped, wide eyes widening even further. You half expected to see tears form on her waterline.
Lila recovered quickly, her usual smile resuming. "Oh, well, great," she said, although her throat sounded tight. "We haven't really gotten a chance to talk since school started -"
"That would make sense, seeing as we aren't friends."
"Right, yes." She jerked her head in an awkward sort of nod.
You hoped she'd just give up on whatever she was trying to do and leave you alone. Yet, she persisted, speaking now with a smile that had faltered from its usually blinding radiance.
"Well, you remember everything that happened last year -"
"No, please, remind me," you said dryly.
She inhaled deeply, growing impatient with your constant interruption.
Her face fell into what was almost a sincere apologetic look. "I'm here to apologize. I should have never -"
"Accused me of attacking muggleborns?"
"Yes," she agreed with a quick nod. "That. It was wrong. I mean - to be fair - you can't really blame me for having thought that..." she cut herself off at your glare. "Anyways, your uncle, Professor Lupin, he's really cool, smart and all that. So, I know there's no way you would've ever done anything like that."
You waited for a moment, giving her the opportunity to say more as you processed her seemingly random regret. She said nothing more, apparently satisfied with the apology. She stared down at you with her large, unblinking eyes, waiting for you to accept her apology.
"Okay, great," you replied airily, turning back to your textbook. "Thanks."
That was her cue to leave, but she stayed.She glanced behind her, towards where you assumed her friends were watching the conversation, rolling on her heels as if she was nervous.
"So, with that out of the way... I was wondering if you could introduce me to Weasley?"
You'd known the apology had motivation behind it. Although she fooled most, you knew she hadn't just come to you with sorry words out of the kindness of her own heart. Her request, however, piqued your interest, and you decided to humour her to find out more.
"Which one?" you asked. "There are seven."
"The twin," she told you.
"Two of those as well."
"Fred, obviously."
Your eyes snapped up faster than you'd have liked. You quickly neutralized your face, hoping your features had betrayed to neither she nor Cedric the splay of emotions you'd felt inside. When you spoke, you made sure to adjust your tone - uninterested instead of bothered.
"Why obviously?" you questioned, straightening up in your chair.
"Cause he's the cuter one," she shrugged like it was obvious.
Your brows furrowed. "They're identical."
"Yeah, but..." She bounced up and down like an impatient child. Her bottom lip was pushed out in a pout that you hated on even your closest friends. "Come on, I know you two are friends."
"Just..." you began, glancing around the room. Your eyes landed on a familiar figure, browsing one of the nearby shelves.
Tall. Red hair.
"Talk to him."
Lila glanced over as well, quickly turning back to you. "What do I say?"
"Just -" you started impatiently. "Ask about his classes. Talk about Quidditch, I don't know."
Lila considered this for a moment, before taking a deep breath in preparation. You couldn't be bothered to watch her as she turned from the table, starting off towards the boy across the room. Cedric seemed particularly interested, watching her go.
A few seconds of silence passed before he spoke - "You're just... okay with that?"
You glanced up. "Okay with what?"
"Her liking Fred."
Your brows furrowed, shrugging like it wasn't a big deal. "Why wouldn't I be okay with that?"
Cedric rolled his eyes, but said nothing more. Now, you joined him in watching the girl, who had made it across the library and was now craning her neck to talk to the ginger boy. From where you sat you couldn't hear what they were saying, but by the look on his face you could gauge what was going on.
Confusion. A glance around the library. Realization. Amusement. An awkward scratch of the back of his neck. Then, an explanation.
Suddenly, Lila Miller's head snapped back towards the table where you sat. You quickly returned your eyes to your book, both to avoid what would've been an absolutely livid glare and to hide your laughter. You looked up just in time to see her platinum hair disappear quickly around the corner, leaving behind a slightly amused ginger boy.
"What just happened?" Cedric asked confused, watching as Lila's friends rushed out of the library after her.
You shrugged, flipping to the next page in your book. "That's George, not Fred."
Cedric's brows furrowed, glancing away from you and back to the boy who still stood at the same shelf. It took him a few seconds, especially considering how far away you sat, but he soon recognized that the twin who stood there was indeed not Fred.
Eyes slightly wide, Cedric pieced together what you had just done. He looked back at you, seemingly unsure if he should laugh or scold you for setting Lila Miller up for failure.
"Anyone in their right minds knows Fred Weasley never comes to the library willingly," you said matter of factly. "Shouldn't fancy one if you can't tell them apart."
"Says one of the only people in the entire school who knows the difference between the two of them," Cedric pointed out, clearly humoured.
"I'm observant," you reasoned.
Once again, there he was: making a nothing into a something.
"You're ridiculous," he corrected you, shaking his head. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it's not him who fancies you. Maybe it's the other way around."
"Now you sound ridiculous," you quipped back.
Cedric sighed, clearly aware he wasn't going to win. He glanced down at his watch. "I've got to go. O.W.L.S. or not, I can help you with whatever this is tomorrow if you'd like?"
Reading through all the books you'd found to help Buckbeak would be ten times easier with his help, and probably less boring. You gave him a grateful smile. "Sure, thanks."
He gave you a small wave before standing up, disappearing behind one of the shelves to assumably go find his other Hufflepuff friends before lunch ended. A few minutes later, you gathered the books that pertained to Buckbeak's defense and left the library. You were deep in thought, but not regarding Buckbeak or your afternoon classes or anything else that had been taking up your thoughts as of late.
Why had it bothered you so much when a girl had expressed interest in Fred Weasley?
It shouldn't have bothered you.
But it did.
Those thoughts disappeared by the time the bell rang.
Next thing you knew, dinner was over and you were maneuvering through the students on their way to their dormitories, night classes and study groups. With a backpack digging into your shoulder under the weight of your library books, you were en-route to Gryffindor tower to get to work on your new mission to help a Hippogriff.
The common room was empty of your friends when you arrived. You guessed your dorm mates had already gone upstairs, but you didn't have an explanation for Fred, George or Lee's absences. Lila Miller beelined for the girl's dormitory as you situated yourself at the table in the far corner of the room. It had been petty for you to do what you'd done in the library at lunch, but you felt satisfied for finally getting back at her for the previous year of torment.
After about half an hour of reading and taking notes in silence, the portrait hole opened.
"When do you sleep?"
You had been too focused on a particular passage about the Hippogriff trade to bother checking to see who had come into the common room. The previously unoccupied couch near the fire was now taken up by the begrudged looking George and Lee. Fred had slipped into the seat opposite yours.
"Only when all the words start to blur together," you told him, slipping a piece of paper into the book so you didn't lose your place. "Where have you been?"
"Detention."
You scoffed. "Oh, no surprise there."
He looked almost offended that you didn't immediately ask what had landed them there in the first place. He straightened up. "Don't you wanna know what we did?"
You shook your head, opening your textbook again. "Not in the slightest."
"I'm worried about you," Fred said, and you glanced up with a furrow in your brows. He motioned to the stack of books on the table. "You're turning into Percy."
Your face fell. "You did not just say that."
"I'm serious, Y/N," Fred continued. "If it's not homework for a ridiculous amount of classes, it's studying for O.W.L.S, or, I don't know, trying to solve world hunger."
You rolled your eyes. "Well, if it brings you any peace of mind, this isn't O.W.L.S. stuff, I'm looking into magical creature trials to help Hermione."
"For Buckbeak?"
You hummed in confirmation. "Every case I read about just gets worse and worse. I don't think a Hippogriff has ever been brought in front of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures and won. There was a case in 1722 but the Hippogriff was convicted -"
You turned the book around to show him, and he recoiled slightly upon seeing the large picture that took up most of the page. "Ugh, look what they did to it, that's disgusting... This might help, look - a Manticore savaged someone in 1296, and they let the Manticore off -"
"Oh, no," you sighed, having already read that passage. "That was only because everyone was too scared to go near it. I don't want Malfoy to get away with this."
"He won't," the boy said confidently. "Look, let me take half. We can read through them faster."
It was a nice offer, but you knew that the two of you would quickly be distracted by something more interesting, likely joining George and Lee by the fireplace. "You don't have to. Cedric offered to help me tomorrow."
His demeanour changed almost instantly. He leaned back in his chair, looking as though he was refraining from rolling his eyes, tongue pressed into the side of his cheek. "Of course he did."
You didn't understand what he meant. "What?"
"Come on, Y/N/N, you're supposed to be the smart one out of all of us," he said, exasperated. "He's so obviously into you."
Suddenly it was a month ago, and you were standing out in the snow with Cedric on the way to Hogsmeade hearing him say the exact same words about the boy in front of you. Oh, the irony.
"Based on what?" you asked. "Him offering to help me read? You just did that."
"Yeah, because I don't want to wake up in the morning and discover you've died from exhaustion," Fred replied, shaking his head "Guys like Cedric Diggory aren't as noble as I. He fancies you."
You considered this for a moment, and you couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh.
"You know, he said the same thing about you."
"Said what?" Fred asked.
"That the reason you hang around me is cause you fancy me."
The boy's brows raised in surprise. "Did he?"
You nodded in confirmation. "Mhm."
Fred considered this for a moment, staring at the table while he processed your words. There was nothing on his face that indicated what he was thinking. You couldn't help but notice how your heart rate quickened. You wondered why you were so eager to hear what he had to say.
Then, he laughed.
He shook his head, growing even more amused although you hadn't said anything more. "He really said that? You know, we've always sort of written Diggory off as having nothing going on behind the eyes, but he's really outdone himself this time."
You nodded curtly, quickly putting your eyes back on the book in front of you. "Right."
Why had the idea of him liking you been so amusing? It wasn't the response you'd expected.
But then again, why were you expecting a particular answer in the first place? You'd told Cedric weeks ago he'd been wrong, because Fred didn't see you in any way except as his best friend.
Cedric must've gotten into your head. Convinced you of something that wasn't true and gotten you subconsciously involved. You had no reason to be upset. Fred Weasley fancied you the same amount you fancied him, which wasn't at all.
The feeling is mutual, said your brain. Your heart - its drop into your stomach, fast pace and slight ache - seemed to disagree.
"You know, I bet Lupin could help you with all of this," Fred said, motioning to the contents of the table. "You know, being the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
The conversation you'd been having seconds earlier apparently had no effect on him. He switched the topic at hand quickly, dismissively. Why it had affected you so much, you didn't understand.
"Yeah, I guess," you agreed, trying to shake the upset feeling you had before he noticed.
He picked up the book on top of the pile next to you, flipping through the pages. It was silent for a few moments before he spoke again. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"About?" you questioned.
"Lupin."
"What? Teaching here?" you asked. "I didn't know."
"No, being your uncle," he clarified.
"How would that have possibly come up in conversation?" you asked, brows furrowed.
"I don't know." Fred shrugged. "I just thought that maybe you didn't tell me for a reason."
"I'm not ashamed or anything," you said, suddenly feeling very defensive. You assumed that's what most people had thought - that you didn't want to associate with the man and his tattered robes and his bizarre yet fascinating teaching style.
"I wasn't saying -"
"I just..." you cut yourself off with a sigh. "It was weird. I hadn't seen him for years, and next thing I know he shows up to teach at my school. I didn't really know what to make of it, so I don't really know how I was supposed to explain it to any of you."
"I get it," Fred said in understanding, and you were grateful. Even more so when he didn't say anything more, pushing you for a better explanation. "I think it's cool."
"Yeah?"
"Are you kidding?" he asked. "The best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had just so happens to be related to my best friend. I consider myself lucky to know you, now."
You scoffed, amused. "Oh, only now?"
"You're alright on your own, I suppose," he shrugged, before grinning.
You rolled your eyes, but couldn't contain your own smile. The conversation concluded there, and while you still felt an odd feeling lingering in your gut from the earlier words you'd shared, you found it easy to sit in his company and continue reading.
It was Fred who broke the ten minute silence - "I wonder why he's afraid of crystal balls."
You hummed in question, unsure of what he meant.
"Lupin," he clarified. "When we fought the Boggart, his turned into a crystal ball, remember?"
"Maybe he took Divination when he went to school here," you joked.
You flipped the page of the book in front of you. It was a scan of an old Daily Prophet article. The bold heading pertained to the trial of a werewolf pack captured in a mountain range somewhere in Europe. You scanned the page. Reading about werewolf trials would in no way help with Buckbeak as the circumstances were too different, but mere curiosity got the best of you.
The page detailed the pack's capture and the constant rescheduling of the trials, as they had to work around the moon cycle. A tiny passage at the bottom, illuminated by a beam of white light from the nearly full moon outside the window, covered what happened to the werewolves once the trial concluded. How some of them returned to the mountains while others worked with the Wizard government to manage their lycanthropy and attempt a life in normal society.
Apparently, according to the book, it was insanely hard to do. The transformation from human to werewolf was painful and often left the human form of the creature incapacitated for days before and after the night of the full moon. The reason most werewolves decided to stay werewolves was because in human form, the sight of the moon frightened them. Wizards often discouraged against werewolves holding normal jobs due to their unpredictability and unreliable schedules, which often meant that they took the jobs that no one else wanted.
Everything clicked into place at once.
"Oh my god."
Fred glanced up. "What?" he asked to no avail. "What?"
Fred didn't find out what. You were too busy rushing towards the portrait hole to bother giving him the explanation for your sudden moment of clarity. He couldn't even think to ask where you were going, or to follow out after you before you disappeared.
It was quite a long way from the Gryffindor common room to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. In your current state you made it there remarkably fast, annoying several sleeping portraits along the way with your hurried footsteps.
Lupin's office door was closed. Office hours were over. You knew that. You knocked anyway.
There was shuffling behind the door. The lock clicked. Lupin's head appeared.
"Y/N," he said, clearly surprised to see you there at the current hour.
"Can I come in?" you asked urgently.
"My office opens tomorrow at 9 a.m., I would prefer we discuss any questions about homework then instead of -
"It's not about homework," you cut him off.
Lupin surveyed you for a moment. Clearly the intent on your face was enough for him to step aside, allowing you into the dimly lit office. You made sure to wait until his door was closed before speaking.
"I know why you've been missing classes," you said bluntly. "You're a werewolf."
There was a ringing silence. It lasted for several seconds too long.
It was a bold statement, but Lupin looked remarkably calm, though rather pale. "Am I?"
His reaction, or lack thereof, made you rethink everything for a moment. You considered the possibility that you'd stormed into his office and confidently accused him of something absurd.
"I... I think so."
He wore an unreadable expression as he took a step closer to you. "How long have you known?"
You hesitated. "About... five minutes."
A shadow of a smile came over his face. He looked curious. You couldn't tell if he was genuinely intrigued and charmed by how you knew, or if it was a mask for anger.
"But," you continued, wanting to provide him with the evidence you'd accumulated within seconds back in the common room. "It crossed my mind when Snape set the essay. And just now, I realized your Boggart wasn't a crystal ball, but a full moon, and then I made the connection - you've been falling ill when the moon is full."
The smile was still, only now you were certain there was no anger. He was impressed.
"You really are clever, Y/N," he said, sounding almost proud. "You're right. I am a werewolf. I have been since I was a young boy."
"How did it happen?" you asked.
Lupin sighed. "My father worked at the Ministry of Magic and encountered a werewolf who was on trial for killing two children. He was positively outraged when the werewolf was released, and made the mistake of voicing the opinion that he deserved nothing but death. This opinion cost the Lupin family dearly."
It wasn't a very clear explanation, but you supposed it was best that he spared you the potentially gruesome details. "But that's not why you left 12 years ago, is it?" you asked. "It wasn't because you're a werewolf, it was because you were friends with him. With Sirius Black."
You felt like it was slightly unfair of you to arrive in his office in the late hours of the night and start throwing heavy questions and accusations at him. However, you decided there was no better time than now.
Lupin hesitated. "Yes, I was."
A pit formed in your stomach.
"Lycanthropy is a dangerous thing, Y/N, I don't have to tell you that," Lupin said, starting to pace. "It was dangerous for me to attend Hogwarts, but Dumbledore allowed it. I met people during my time at school, and they accepted me for who I was and made my transformations easier."
"People like Black."
"Amongst others," Lupin said. "Lily and James. Harry's parents. Peter Pettigrew. All of whom I lost in various ways by the end of the First Wizarding War. Lily and James were murdered by Voldemort. Within the next day, Peter had died and Sirius had been sent to Azkaban. Neither the man or the wolf in me could cope. I was more dangerous than I ever had been before, and I had to leave. As much as your father tried to get me to stay, I couldn't rationalize accepting his help knowing I could hurt him, or your mother, or you."
"I'm..." you started, suddenly feeling a deep sense of sympathy for him. "I'm sorry."
Lupin smiled faintly. "I suppose you've been questioning where my loyalties lay?"
It was your turn to hesitate.
"I don't blame you," Lupin continued. "I believe you deserve a better explanation than this."
"You don't have to give me one," you said quickly. The knots in your gut had untied themselves. "If I'm being honest, I don't really want to know anything more. Not right now."
A sort of awkward silence followed. He looked the slightest bit affronted, like he'd been ready to put the kettle on and answer any questions you had.
You didn't have any questions. Weeks ago you did. You'd questioned the innocence of a man whom you barely knew, based on snippets of overheard conversations and coincidences. Now, you'd been presented with what most would consider solid evidence. Now, he'd confirmed his connection to the mass murderer terrorizing the Wizarding world, as well as revealed he was one of the most dangerous magical creatures that existed.
Yet, you didn't feel like you were looking at a dangerous man, a culprit or accomplice to any kind of crime. You were looking at your uncle, who 12 years ago lost each of his best friends to death or Azkaban, and isolated himself even further from his remaining family to protect them.
You understood him. You believed him. In that moment, it was important that he knew that.
"I know Snape thinks you helped him get into the castle on Halloween, but I don't," you said. It was the most certain you'd been regarding an opinion on Lupin. "I don't know that much about you, and I suppose what I know isn't all that great, but I don't think you would do that."
By the look on his face, it seemed like no one had said such a thing to him in a long time.
"I know you don't remember much of the time we spent together before I disappeared," Lupin said. "But I was very fond of you, Y/N. Loved you very dearly. I have for 12 years, just from afar."
There was a beat.
"It's late," you said sort of awkwardly, motioning behind you to the door. "I should get back."
Lupin merely nodded.
It had been your intention to leave the room without another word, but when your fingertips hit the doorframe, you lingered. There was no shuffling, no footsteps behind you. You felt Lupin's eyes on your back, watching you, expecting you to turn and say something more.
You did.
"I'm not going to tell anyone."
He had no vocal reaction at first. For a moment he looked surprised, and then relieved. It was like he had been expecting that since you knew, that the entire school would know by morning.
He nodded again. "Thank you."
From the time it took to get from his office up into your dormitory, you came to a conclusion: It seemed like all of your thoughts pertaining to Lupin were secrets.
You'd kept your relation to him a secret. Your speculation that he'd been involved in the Halloween break-in had been a secret too.
You had secrets beyond Lupin as well, a little part of your brain reminded you as you slipped under the covers of your four-poster. The moon cast a sliver of light onto the floor.
Other secrets. Like the Time-Turner.
Nothing else.
You'd been keeping a lot of secrets. What was one more?