Disclaimer: Her Royal Highness JKR owns all.
It was a warm afternoon, the kind made for napping in History of Magic. Half the class was already asleep, not even bothering to disguise it. Peter had propped his chin up, elbows on the desk. He was very good at it, and almost never tipped over sideways to crash noisily awake. With his hair hanging over his closed eyes, his teachers never realized he was asleep unless they happened to call upon him to answer a question.
Remus was not so effective in his napping habits. When he fell asleep, his head inevitably drooped to his desk, a clear giveaway. If he did manage to sleep, he invariably woke up with a pool of drool smearing the ink on his parchment and causing smudges on his cheek.
But this afternoon he had something to keep him from drifting off to Professor Binn's droning lecture. In the row ahead of him, James and Sirius had captured a beetle and were amusing themselves by transfiguring it. So far they had changed it into a button, a goldfish, and a knut. Right now they seemed to be attempting to change it into a cockroach cluster, and Remus wondered if they would try to feed it to Peter if they succeeded. But they were having trouble with the spell, and the closest they'd managed so far was to turn it into a runny lump of fudge.
An uncommonly cool breeze distracted Remus from the game, momentarily rousing him from his stupor. Several other dozing students stirred as well, and Remus looked up to see Nearly Headless Nick wafting down the center aisle toward Professor Binns, who had yet to notice. Sir Nicholas hovered in front of Binns's podium and cleared his ghostly throat, but Binns paid him no more attention than if a student had asked a question. Indeed, since no one ever asked a question, Binns was wholly unaccustomed to interruption.
When his throat-clearing failed to have any effect, Sir Nicholas spoke up "Professor? Excuse me - Professor?"
Without look up, Binns said, "No, Miss Wattleby, you may not have a bathroom pass."
"Professor Binns, it's Sir Nicholas. I have a message from the headmaster."
At last Binns looked up. "What was that? Oh, Sir Nicholas! I'm teaching a class right now; you'll have to come back later."
Sir Nicholas drew himself up, elongating his height in order to appear more authoritative. "I am sorry, Professor, but the headmaster sent me to fetch one of the students. He wants to see Remus Lupin right away."
Remus sat up straight. Sirius and James paused in tormenting the beetle to turn around and ogle him.
"The headmaster, you say?" repeated Binns, adjusting his spectral spectacles. "Wants to see who?"
"Remus Lupin, Professor."
"Well, I don't know why you're bothering me about it. Mr. Lupin is in my Wednesday class."
"But today is Wednesday, Professor," said Sir Nicholas, a trifle impatiently. "And Mr. Lupin is right there in the fourth row."
Peter was awake now, and he leaned closer to Remus. "What did you do?" he whispered. Remus only shook his head.
Professor Binns peered in his direction and at last proclaimed, "Why, so he is! Mr. Lupin, you are to report to the headmaster's office at once."
By now everyone in the class had been roused from their naps by the interruption, and they turned to gawk at him, whispering to each other behind their hands. Sirius and James faced him, eyes widened in inquiry, but he could only shrug in reply as he gathered up his parchment and books, cheeks flaming in embarrassment. Freed from torment at last, the beetle scuttled away unnoticed.
With as much dignity as he could muster, Remus walked down the aisle, Sir Nicholas floating next to him. Out in the hall, away from the other students' stares, Sir Nicholas asked, "Do you need me to show you where the headmaster's office is?"
"No thank you, Sir Nicholas. I've been there a number of times." Though usually only as an accessory to the crime, and not as the primary offender. "And unless Dumbledore has changed his password in the last two weeks, I know that, too."
"Very well, then, I'll leave you to it. But don't worry: the headmaster didn't seem very angry."
That was hardly reassuring, but Remus managed a weak smile of thanks.
It wouldn't do to dawdle, so he headed on his way. It was strange walking the corridors alone in the middle of the day. His footsteps echoed ominously down the stone hallway, emphasizing his solitude. He racked his brains trying to think of what he might have done to catch Dumbledore's attention, as it was another two weeks until the next full moon.
All at once his heart froze and he stopped in place. Surely Dumbledore hadn't found out that James, Sirius, and Peter had discovered his secret? That had been months ago, and the boys had all been the soul of discretion. Except for Sirius, of course. Sirius made far too many sly references to Remus's lycanthropy for anyone's comfort, but no one outside their circle seemed to think anything of it. They just thought it was more of Sirius's typical teasing.
But what if Dumbledore had noticed it? What if he'd overheard Sirius calling him "Moony" and figured out what it meant? Would he be expelled? Would *Sirius* be expelled? Horrified, he locked his trembling fingers around his books and forced himself to resume walking, but his feet dragged on the flagstones, slowing him down.
Far sooner than he would have liked, he found himself in front of the gargoyle statue, but before he could say the password, the hidden panel slid open, revealing Dumbledore himself. Remus gulped and took a step back.
"There you are, Mr. Lupin," said Dumbledore easily. He didn't appear angry at all. "Don't worry; whatever rule-breaking you fear I have discovered, rest assured that it still remains unknown to me. I called you here because I have a certain guest upstairs in my office who wishes to see you." He paused, looking down at Remus through his half-moon spectacles. "Magnus Faroe."
Remus's eyes widened, and his books almost slipped from his suddenly nerveless hands.
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Yes, Mr. Lupin. Your father is here. It seems your younger brother is due to start school next year, and he wanted to discuss the situation with me."
Remus's hopes rose. "Cassius will be coming here?"
"Alas, no. Your father decided to enroll him in Durmstrang instead, after I told him in no uncertain terms that I couldn't possibly turn out an existing student who has already more than proven his worth."
A storm of conflicting emotions flooded Remus at once, and he feared he might be ill.
"After we concluded our business, your father expressed a desire to see you." Dumbledore studied him closely. "You are not obligated to grant his request, Mr. Lupin. I will support you in whatever decision you make, but I summoned you here because I wanted to give you the choice."
Remus lowered his eyes, clutching his books to his chest. He still felt sick, but there was only one choice he could make, even though it frightened and excited him at the same time. "I want to see him, Headmaster."
Dumbledore's eyes softened, and Remus wondered whether he was pleased or not. "If you like, I will leave the two of you alone, or I can stay with you. Whatever you prefer."
"I-I think I'd rather you stayed."
"Very well. Shall we go up?" Dumbledore gestured for him to enter the stairwell first. They rode up to the office, and Remus didn't know what to think, didn't even know what he felt, as they drew closer to the man he hadn't seen since he was six years old.
When the stairs stopped moving, he felt Dumbledore's hand rest on his shoulder, heavy and comforting. The door opened, and Remus stepping into the office.
Sitting in a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk was a well-groomed man with graying, light-brown hair. He looked older than Remus remembered, and when he stood in greeting, he seemed smaller, too.
Magnus Faroe smiled, but it seemed forced. "Ah, there you are. How are you, lad?"
Remus shot a nervous glance at Dumbledore, who resumed his place behind his desk. His gaze returned to his father. "I'm well, sir. And you?"
"Fine, just fine. Please," he gestured to the chair next to him. "Sit."
Remus edged closer and sank into the chair as his father resumed his seat.
Rubbing his hands on his pants legs, his father smiled again, and Remus wished he would just stop. "So, it's been quite a while, hasn't it?"
"Yes, sir." Seven years. Half his lifetime. Did his father really not know how long it had been?"
"The headmaster tells me you're doing very well in school. That's good." There wasn't an ounce of pride in his voice. He sounded completely disinterested, the way all grown-ups are always pleased to hear young people are doing well in school. "I hope you realize how very fortunate you are. Other people in your situation have not had such an opportunity."
Remus's stomach churned. In his situation? What was that supposed to mean? Was he implying that Remus could cease to be a werewolf if he simply applied himself? Or was he referring to the fact that Remus had grown up a parentless ward of the court at St. Mungo's? Remus had no control over either "situation."
When he failed to provide a response to this perplexing statement, his father frowned sternly. "I hope you are suitably grateful."
"Yes, sir." Remus said it because he knew it was the expected answer, even though he had a hard time figuring out what he should feel grateful for.
"Good," his father nodded. He paused, as if searching for something else to talk about. "Well, since I was here, I just thought I would say hello and see how you're getting along."
That sounded like a dismissal. Panicked that this visit, however strange, might so quickly come to an end, Remus blurted out, "Please sir. How-how is mummy?"
An awkward hesitation, before Mr. Faroe composed himself once more. "My wife is quite well. Thank you for asking, Mr. Lupin."
The alias burned in his ears, the name he'd been given when he was sent away. How could being bitten by a werewolf make him cease to be Remus Faroe? He knew his parents had told everyone that he had been killed. But he wasn't dead. They were still his family. How could they just forget him? "And Cassius and Livia?" he asked in desperation. "Won't Cassius come to school here next year? He would love Hogwarts."
Something hardened in his father's eyes, and Remus regretted speaking. "I have decided that Hogwarts is not a suitable school for my children."
*His children.* That did not include Remus. His breath caught painfully in his chest, as if he had just been punched in the sternum. "They can come here," he said, forcing the words out. "It's all right, Father, I won't tell them. They don't have to go to another school--."
But Magnus Faroe had stood as soon as the word "father" had passed his lips. "Thank you, Mr. Lupin," he stressed, "but I need to think of what's best for my children."
"But *I'm* your--."
Mr. Faroe abruptly turned away. "Headmaster, thank you for meeting with me, but I must go."
"Father!" Remus called, but Mr. Faroe refused to face him, as if he hadn't even spoken. As if he didn't even exist.
From behind his desk, Dumbledore looked from Remus to his father. "I do wish you would reconsider, Mr. Faroe. Remus, here, is an excellent example for any new student--."
"Yes, I'm sure," Mr. Faroe said. "I can find my own way out. Again, thank you, Headmaster." And without waiting for Dumbledore to respond, without acknowledging Remus in any way, Magnus Faroe turned and left the office.
Remus stared after him, shaken, struggling to catch his breath. He wanted to run after his father and grab his sleeve, forcing him to look at his son. He wanted to throw himself in his father's arms the way he used to, to have his father lift him high into the air before holding him close and rubbing the tip of his nose against Remus's. He wanted to play with Cassius and Livia again. He wanted his mummy to kiss him. Why couldn't he have those things? What had he done that was so awful, other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time on a full-moon night seven years ago?
As he stared at the closed door, he dimly heard Dumbledore say, "I am sorry, Remus."
He didn't know what to say. Why was the headmaster apologizing to him?
"I will write a note excusing you from the remainder of your classes for the day. Why don't you go back to Gryffindor tower and rest?"
Numbly, Remus nodded. He didn't know why he wasn't crying, but he certainly didn't want to cry in front of Dumbledore. He watched as the headmaster scribbled on a piece of parchment, which he carefully folded three times and held out to Fawkes. The phoenix glided from his perch to Dumbledore's desk and extended his beak to pluck the note from the headmaster's hand. He cast his golden eye on Remus and then took off, flying up toward the high ceiling, where he disappeared from Remus's sight. He stared up into the murky depths of the ceiling, wishing he could fly away, too.
"It is a sad fact of life that there are people who are capable of great cruelty," Dumbledore said quietly. Remus kept his gaze on the ceiling, afraid to look at the headmaster. "It is especially tragic when it is our own parents who are so cruel. But Remus, it is best not to dwell on such things, unfair as they may be. You do not have to be like your father. You are far better than that. I want you to understand that I have never for one instant regretted admitting you to Hogwarts."
Slowly, Remus's eyes drifted to Dumbledore's. He was so kind, and he had been more of a father to Remus than Magnus Faroe had ever been. But it couldn't make up for the loss. He wanted his family back. His own family. His real family.
However, to the best of his ability he would never disappoint Albus Dumbledore. "Yes sir," he said, because he knew it was the expected answer. Only unlike with his father, Remus wanted to mean it.