Note: So I was all set to write the final chapter of Lies and Letters and finally finish it...but then an idea popped into my head and wouldn't go away until I wrote it down! So, in an attempt to silence the plot demons, here it is:

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, J K Rowling owns it all.

Anonymous

If he took a step back and looked at himself, Remus Lupin would be the first to admit that he could identify a number of flaws, some of which were more blindingly obvious than others. The most blindingly obvious of all these flaws was, as his old school friends had once cheerfully christened it, Remus' "furry little problem". Indeed, one did not loose all humanity only to replace it with fangs and a tail once every month, and not deem this to be a "flaw".

You know your problem, love? Remus recalled his mother telling him some years ago, prior to her death. You're far too nice. At the time that this had been pointed out to him, Remus had told his mother that she was being daft. After all, dark creature that he was, he always had to be as nice as possible, that way people might think he had at least one decent and, most importantly, human trait. But his mother had not been the first to point out this supposed defect in Remus' nature, his friends would often complain about it when he had reacted so mildly to the actions of hostile Slytherins at school, or when he had been so painfully polite to all those worthless employers who had practically laughed in his face when he had asked them for a job. He recalled his friend Sirius announcing that he should have "hexed that bastard's hand off, not bloody shaken it!"

Not that Sirius' opinion amounted to much. He had, after all, been thrown into prison some half a year later for cold blooded murder. On balance Remus figured his advice ought be taken with a pinch of salt.

Then, Remus mused as he sat in his office, staring blankly at the essay that he was supposed to be marking, there were other little flaws that probably didn't matter all that much in the grand scheme of things. But he would sit and list them to himself anyway because he was just in that sort of mood. Wretched.

Flaw Three: He was often in this sort of mood. In fact he was beginning to label himself as pessimistic, which was a bit of a delayed diagnosis because this year was actually turning out well. He had a job, for starters, a good one and he was enjoying it. And yet he still managed to feel gloomy.

Flaw Four: He looked about as good as his mood was. The only difference was his mood was able to change. Not that he was usually too concerned, he was resigned to his appearance and if he kept this job long enough he could at least improve his wardrobe. The thought cheered him a little as he twirled the quill pen between his fingers absent-mindedly.

It was Flaw Five that Remus gave the most thought to today. He was not sure if he could officially call it Flaw Five yet, though, because he had not quite decided whether or not it truly applied to him. If it did, he thought, he should probably switch it's number with Flaw Two because it was more fatal by far.

Flaw Five: Remus was losing his mind.

Or was he?

Remus set the quill down upon the desk and leant back in his chair, eyes drifting closed as he recalled the beginning of this whole predicament. Of course he hadn't realized anything too strange at the time, in fact he had hardly given it a serious thought. Not like now, when he spent most of his evenings just sitting around, wondering.

It had all started some two weeks beforehand, a Sunday afternoon to be more precise. If it hadn't been a Sunday, Remus mused, this whole thing might never have happened. If it had been a weekday Remus would no doubt have been rushing down that Charms corridor on his way to his classroom or the staffroom and he probably would not have noticed the strange boy wearing the turquoise jumper. But as it was Sunday Remus had not been in a rush to get anywhere much, he had been walking far more slowly. He had seen the boy staring intently at him as he passed by, his mouth slightly open as if the werewolf was shocking in some way.

It had been very strange.

And it hadn't been the only time that Remus had seen the anonymous child, either.

Remus had spotted him in the crowds swarming through the Entrance Hall the following day as the students of Hogwarts headed into the Great Hall for dinner. He stuck out like a sore thumb because he was still wearing that brightly coloured jumper whilst the rest of the students were in their black school robes. He had stared at Remus again. Remus had made an effort not to stare back.

On Tuesday Remus could have sworn the boy had been at the end of the line of second years waiting for him outside of the DADA classroom, but when the class filed inside he had seemingly disappeared.

Remus did not see the boy on Wednesday. He had felt quite relieved at this fact, too, because it meant he had time to assure himself that he was being ridiculous, that the boy was just like all the others at Hogwarts, despite his consistently awed staring. So Remus couldn't remember who he was or even which year he was in, it didn't even matter, he hadn't been teaching all that long and there were a lot of names to remember. He was bound to forget once in a while.

And so what if Remus didn't recall having ever seen the boy in any of his classes. Maybe he didn't take Defence Against the Dark Arts...

Unlike every other child of his age at the school.

It was then that Remus had began to consider the possibility that the boy was a figment of his imagination, that he did not even exist. The werewolf began to wonder if he was losing his mind. He had decided that next time he saw the boy he would talk to him. Illusions couldn't talk back, surely, and then he would know for sure. But every day since, when he had caught sight of the boy in the turquoise jumper, Remus had never managed to test his theory. He would hurry through the crowds of children towards the isolated colour, only for the boy to be gone by the time he got there. He had thought of calling out, but decided against this strategy. If the child was indeed a figment of his imagination it would not do to call to thin air. The students would think he was cracked.

And even if he did call, what was he supposed to say? Clearly the boy did not want to be caught.

Remus opened his eyes, frowning deeply, his fingers coming to tap upon the desk as he attempted to form some sort of explanation for the strange week he was having. He pictured the boy in his mind and tried to decide if anything was familiar about him.

That lumpy jumper looked rather like the ones the Weasley children seemed to often wear, home made, perhaps...

But the boy wasn't a Weasley, that was for sure. For starters his hair was brown, not red, and his face was void of freckles.

Harry had a Weasley jumper, too.

So...this boy was a friend of one of the Weasleys, perhaps...

But that still did not account for the fact that the boy did not appear to attend any lessons. Nor did he wear any school uniform.

Remus sighed again, beginning to feel frustrated. It was times like this that he could really use the Marauder's Map. That would sort fact from fiction, for sure.

He stopped tapping his fingers and got swiftly to his feet. He could not just sit around here all evening, he concluded, because if he wasn't a lunatic already he certainly would be after another hour of this. He'd go for a walk. Do the teacher thing and go looking for students who were out of bed after hours. It would make him feel normal, doing his job. He'd feel better.

The corridors of Hogwarts School were eerily quiet as the Defence Professor wandered along, lit wand held aloft as he listened to his echoing footsteps on the stone floor. Remus began to reminisce, an easy yet somewhat sombre distraction from his insanity. There was the broom cupboard that Sirius had locked Snape inside, in their first year when the pranks had been relatively tame.

That was the window seat he had spotted James and Lily sitting in, the first time he'd seen them holding hands. He'd sprinted all the way back to Gryffindor Tower to tell Padfoot and Wormtail. That night, Prongs had thrown a party in their dormitory. They had each eaten their body weight in Honeyduke's chocolate, it had made Wormtail sick.

Then there was the courtyard where he had confiscated a whole box of Zonko's products from a group of third year Hufflepuffs, his first act as Prefect. He'd been goaded into giving the box to his friends and they'd had a fun weekend causing mayhem for some unsuspecting Slytherins. When found out, his Head of House had made him solemnly promise never to abuse his powers again. After that he had learnt to be more careful...

Remus was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps. He raised his wand higher and squinted down the corridor for signs of life. There was no light from a wand, he could only assume that it was a student out of bed. He began to stride down the corridor, expecting to hear fleeing footsteps, only for them to get gradually closer instead. He came to a halt, squinting harder still.

A boy stepped out of the darkness, into the light of Remus' wand. He was wearing a turquoise jumper.

The werewolf stared. The boy stared back. Tonight his expression was somewhat nervous.

Here was his chance, Remus realised after a moment when he mind seemed to recover from his surprise. Here was his chance, quick, say something...

"Hello...?" he tried uncertainly, and immediately felt stupid. If the boy was actually real and Remus wasn't a lunatic he was certainly sounding like one nevertheless. At least if he was imagining things this would be far less embarrassing.

The anonymous child pressed his lips firmly together, eyes widening a little at the sound of Remus' voice. He drew in a deep breath through his nostrils. Remus found himself drawing a breath too.

Quite suddenly the boy took a step backwards, eyes roaming over the man opposite him in hurried scrutiny. Remus opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could think of anything the child had turned and fled down the corridor, feet hammering on the stone floor.

Remus simply stared after him. The turquoise disappeared into the darkness, footfalls fading as the boy rounded a corner.

Remus continued to stare into the black.

Insanity it is then, a voice in the back of his head concluded.

He would not see the boy again for many years, and when he did, Remus would not recognize him.

FINISH.

Note: I've decided to leave it like this for now. Metaphorical cookies for anybody who can guess who the boy was! I might add an extra chapter as explanation later. =)