A/N: Hello you lot! I feel like it's been forever!

Here, finally, is the first chapter of the sequel to One Hundred and Sixty Nine.

^V^

5th November 1993

"For Merlin's sake Prongs!" Sirius hissed angrily, as he crashed into James's back for the third time in as many minutes.

"It's not my fault," James shot back annoyed, "the ceiling is so much lower than it used to be."

Sirius could just make out his friend's silhouette in the dark tunnel. He snickered to himself when James started off again, and almost at once thunked his head on one of the dangling roots that protruded into the passage.

"Bugger it," James said, as he rubbed his head, "Lumos."

"Hey! I thought we were on a secret mission here," Sirius complained, the sudden flaring of light from James's wand was dazzling, "Won't it give our presence away if the statue starts glowing like some sort of lady-Igor-angel?"

"We're not even in the castle yet," James countered, but he frowned in the direction of the upcoming bend in the tunnel. It marked the transition from earth walls to stone ones. "I doubt the light will travel that far."

Sirius had to admit James had a point, but it just wasn't in the spirit of the thing, he thought. He couldn't deny however that progress was far more efficient when they could actually see where they were going. Feeling slightly depressed that he and James could no longer tear along the tunnel in the pitch dark – and they weren't even carrying cartons of miscellaneous contraband, as used to be the norm – he hoisted his rucksack higher on his shoulder and followed on.

Remus was running late by the time he reached the hospital wing that stormy evening. His quick trip to see the matron and have his pre-moon dose of wolfsbane dispensed had been way-laid by Headmistress McGonagall. She had asked Remus for a letter explaining that hippogriffs were not classed as dark creatures and were therefore perfectly suitable for study in a Care of Magical Creatures class, and that in his humble (Voldemort vanquishing) opinion, any hippogriff that attacks a child because the child wasn't listening and insulted it, shouldn't have to be put down. It might seem onerous, but Remus really didn't mind attaching his name to things if it helped sort the situation out. Having people take his opinion seriously was one of the perks of taking all the media heat for Lily over the last twelve years.

Remus pushed open the door to the main ward of the hospital, and unlike the internal corridor where thick stone walls muted the sound of tonight's violent weather, the hospital wing had large windows which seemed to amplify the storm. There was heavy rain lashing the glass and Remus could hear distant thunder rumbling out in the dark Highland night.

"Good evening Poppy," Remus began, determined to get his potion and get back to his office. There was a stack of first year essays on the differences between a jinx and a curse that needed his attention, and he needed to do it before his brain was dulled into the fogginess he still had to endure in the final hours before the moon rose. Wolfsbane was a miracle, but that small side-effect remained.

Remus was drawn up short however when the figure standing at the matron's office door turned to face him. It was not Madam Pomfrey as he had first thought in his hurry, but a man wearing a white smock over his robes similar to the one Madam Pomfrey normally wore when dealing with patients.

His hair was dark and neat, his leather shoes so shiny they reflected the light from the gas lamps on the walls. He wore a pair of heavy-framed glasses too, these were currently sliding down his nose as his head was bent over a sheaf of parchment. The man was scratching furiously but he paused at the sound of Remus's voice and looked up, pushing his glasses back into place. The man gave Remus a brisk nod, "Good evening," he replied, doing only the smallest of double takes before returning to his scribbling. Remus was very glad of this, he was not in the mood for inquisitive strangers asking questions about his past.

"Look Mr Fawley, I'm sorry but these are all the records we have." the harassed sounding voice of Madam Pomfrey said from out of sight. Several scrolls floated from within her office out towards the dark haired man and his busy quill – Mr Fawley apparently. As Remus watched, the scrolls began to pile themselves a Mr Fawley's feet, the orderly stack was several feet high by the time Madam Pomfrey appeared. Her white cap was slightly askew above her agitated expression. "Why the Ministry need to check the existence of patient records before Nineteen Hundred is beyond me." she muttered as she re-pinned her cap.

Mr Fawley sighed, "We need to assure that all record keeping for all living patients is up to date, I do not need to remind you that many wizards who attended Hogwarts at the turn of the century are still alive, if they request a copy of their records we must be able to provide them with it."

"Yes yes." Madam Pomfrey tutted under her breath, "Right what's next then?" she asked and she looked up, finally noticing Remus. "Ah Professor Lupin," she said, "you'll just have to wait a minute I'm afraid, I've got your dose all ready to go in there," she gestured to the office behind her, "but as you can see it's inaccessible at the moment."

Remus poked his head around the door to see that the pile of scrolls at Mr Fawley's feet were only the beginning. The normally neat and tidy office-cum-sitting-room-cum-dispensary was a waist high sea of parchment.

On the bench that ran along the opposite wall was the familiar sight of his wolfsbane potion. Two glasses were set out on the metal tray, one larger than the other. The smaller one was a child-size dose. Thankfully there was only one small glass this year, only one werewolf enrolled at Hogwarts. Last year had been the last of students bitten during the war, two seventh year boys, both finished school with six NEWTS each. Greta Reeves, the recipient of the small glass, was a tiny little thing, bitten only two years ago in a freak attack.

Now that wolfsbane was widely available and free under the National Healing Service, attacks happened so infrequently that people had almost forgotten the danger of werewolves. There was still prejudice concerning the turning into an animal part of the condition, and employers disliked the couple of days off that were necessary. But Remus definitely saw it as progress that werewolves were now thought of as inconvenient rather than life-threatening.

"I'm rather in a hurry Poppy," Remus began, but gave up when he realised the matron was not listening to him. She was too busy murmuring to herself about the pointlessness of what seemed to be some sort of inspection as she went about opening cupboards to show Mr Fawley, and his clipboard, the contents.

Mr Fawley had obviously requested to see something else because Madam Pomfrey had closed the cupboards and now leading him off to another part of the ward. Remus contemplated whether the telling off he would get from Madam Pomfrey for disturbing her century's worth of patient files would be worth the extra ten minutes he would gain in his essay marking by wading through the parchment and taking the potion. Because summoning an open topped beaker full nearly to the brim with valuable medicine certainly wasn't a good idea. He'd probably spill it, and on the scrolls filling the room no less. Definitely better to just wait he thought.

"Hello Professor," a small voice said from behind Remus. He startled and turned to see tiny Greta Reeves smiling up at him shyly. Her lank ashy hair fell into her eyes as she peered into the office too. "Is he still here then?" she asked.

"Er… Mr Fawley you mean?" Remus guessed.

"Yeah," said Greta, "he was here when Flora and I came to see Draco after dinner. Madam Pomfrey seemed pretty sick of him already."

"Who Mr Malfoy, or Mr Fawley?"

Greta grinned a little wider, "Well both really, Flora says Draco wouldn't pretend to be hurt but we heard Wood saying it was just so Slytherin didn't have to play in the storm tomorrow. But I meant Mr Fawley, he's an inspector for the National Healing Service, he introduced himself while Madam Pomfrey was off getting the gauze inventory for him."

"Oh," Remus said, he'd always thought Hogwarts hospital wing had its annual inspection over the summer holidays, he'd spent a lot more time in the ward than most students and had never come across an inspector. "Well I'm sure he's just doing his job."

Greta sat down on the end of the nearest bed, "Dad talks about him sometimes," she said, swinging her legs. She peered around Remus to make sure Mr Fawley couldn't hear her, "says he's really per-dan-tic, that's fussy right?"

"Right," Remus said, "I'd say being pedantic would be an advantage in his job. Does he inspect the infirmary at Azkaban too?"

Greta nodded, "Yep, he's been doing it since not long after Dad started out there."

Greta's father, Archibald Reeves was something of a folk hero in the wizarding world, 'Guard Archie' as the press called him, was the only remaining guard from the team that took over Azkaban in the wake of the banished Dementors two years ago.

It had taken a long time to convince the wizarding community that the removal of the Dementors was the right thing to do, most people thought that pushing for it was the reason Minister Bagnold had lost the election to Fudge several years back. Fudge who was backed financially by a suspiciously well informed Pollux Black. But even Fudge knew it needed to be done and the Wizengamot had eventually pushed the bill through to banish the creatures from the island. But the Dementors left the prison with a final gift for their human replacements. A curse that hung in the air and clung to the walls of the crumbling stone fortress.

The team of new guards had begun to crack within weeks of deployment; depression, madness, even suicide, leached through the ranks as the curse infected them. All were affected, except Archie Reeves. Healers both for the body and mind were stumped, he seemed no different to anyone else, and yet, he was just as sane as he had ever been. Ministry curse breakers cleared the prison of all malicious magic, and the impervious Archie headed the new team that returned to guard the inmates. The papers spun all sorts of nonsense about him, both good and bad; that Archie was one casting the curse, not the Dementors had been popular in the beginning, but eventually the most common story became that he was an extremely gifted Occulmens, and could therefore keep his mind safe from the curse.

Remus however thought that he knew exactly why Archie was not affected like the others. It reminded him very much of the story Hermione had told him so many years ago about Sirius's decade long imprisonment. Sirius had kept his mind because he knew he was innocent, the Dementors couldn't take that away because it wasn't a happy thought. Remus might never have made this connection if he hadn't met Greta. Archie's wife, Greta's mother, was killed in the attack that turned Greta into a werewolf; the attack occurred little more than a month before the changing of the guard. Archie Reeves was a man in mourning when he took the job at Azkaban, Remus had a feeling that the Dementors curse couldn't touch someone who was already so broken.

"How is your father?" Remus asked, as though he and Archie were old acquaintances, even thought he'd only met him once, when Remus had taken little Greta her Hogwarts letter six months ago.

"He's fine," she said, her smile slipping slightly, "same as he always is."

Remus understood, Archie was a gruff fellow, he gave Remus the impression that if it wasn't his little girl that had been bitten he'd have a rather old fashioned attitude to werewolves. Remus gave a little nod, and changed the subject, "Third moon of the term," he said, "how are you finding it, transforming at school?"

"Good," Greta said, her face brightening, "Madam Pomfrey is so kind, and it's nice to have a room to myself for the evening, it's so peaceful."

"Would that be a slight on my goddaughter?" Remus asked slyly. Flora was often reprimanded for whispering to her friends in class, she seemed almost incapable of silence.

"A little bit," Greta giggled. "She's such a chatterbox Professor, even talks in her sleep!" Greta looked astounded that someone could possibly have so much to say. "Do you know, Beth said to me that she wished she was a werewolf so that she could have a private room once a month and get a good night sleep?"

Remus laughed at the absurdity of such a wish. How times had changed, he thought. "I shared a dorm with her father for seven years," he said, "believe me, he was just as bad. I'll happily teach you and Miss Longbottom how to cast a silencing charm on your bed curtains if you'd like."

Greta's eyes lit up, "Really? That would be brilliant."

"Professor Lupin?" Mr Fawley was back, his clipboard was nowhere in sight and his glasses were tucked into his top pocket. Apparently he had finished his inspection.

Remus stood up, "How can I help?"

"I just wanted to shake your hand," he said, extending his own, "and apologise for delaying you this evening."

Remus shook his hand obligingly, "No matter," he said, "You have a job to do, I've a lot of respect for the National Healing Service, you've made my life and many others like me much easier."

Mr Fawley looked surprised, "Well, well thanks Professor, most people seem to think we take too long to get things done, and when we finally get to them we ask them to fill in far too many forms."

"I won't argue with you on the paperwork," Remus said with a chuckle, "but when the board agreed to provide free wolfsbane to anyone who wanted it, a lot of lives were saved, I think that's worth a few bits of parchment."

"Of course," Mr Fawley said.

"Right, Mr Fawley, you've done your bit, time to go." Madam Pomfrey said, walking the length of the hospital wing swiftly, the tray bearing the two potion doses in her hands, "I've got patients to see and records to update."

She scowled in the inspectors direction and he looked a little cowed, "I keep telling you Poppy, it's not personal, every facility has to have the same standard –"

"Yes yes," Madam Pomfrey interrupted, "now away with you, I must actually tend to my patients if you want to have anything to inspect next time."

Wisely, Mr Fawley didn't reply. He just smiled and nodded and turned to leave. On his way toward the exit he paused to pick up his heavy looking satchel from where it had been sitting at the door to Madam Pomfrey's office.

"Terribly sorry to keep you two waiting." the matron said, as she went about the usual pre-potion tests; she took their temperatures, swabbed a bit of cotton inside their cheeks and dropped it in a thimble-sized container of potion were it smoked and dissolved, both glasses of potion turning from murky green to clear as the swab vanished. As she worked Madam Pomfrey continued to mutter about the unjustness of it all. Apparently the Hogwarts hospital used to be exempt from N.H.S. inspection, but some minor change in the law meant it was now included. No wonder Madam Pomfrey was so grumpy.

Eventually they were allowed to swallow down the wolfsbane. Remus thought he must finally be getting used to the repulsive flavour, because it didn't seem to taste as bad as usual. It was still horrible of course, but he didn't want to throw up immediately. He supposed after twelve years one could learn to tolerate anything.

Poor Greta however was retching with her hand clamped tightly over her mouth as not to let any come back up. Remus patted her shoulder sympathetically.

After a few very liquid sounding hiccups she said hoarsely, "When I finish school I'm going to invent a way to make wolfsbane taste better." She looked so determined Remus was quite sure she would.

Moonrise wasn't until ten forty-five that November evening, so Remus had got in a decent bit of essay marking before Professor McGonagall arrived at his door. It had become a full moon ritual during the last school year, a walk with the Headmistress from his office on the second floor to hers on the seventh.

After years of trial and error in methods of coping with his condition Remus had found that his joints recovered much more quickly from his transformation if he exercised them in the hours before the moon rose. While teaching at Hogwarts this pre-moon limbering came in the form of evening rounds with the Headmistress, on the alert for trouble makers. More often than not it just ended up being a pleasant stroll up through six floors to McGonagall's office – students looking to break the rules tended to wait until after curfew, because they knew that the teachers were on the alert around that time.

"I have good news Remus," Professor McGonagall said as they walked along the second floor corridor. "Narcissa Malfoy has decided to withdraw her complaint after all."

"That is good news." he agreed, relieved despite internally wishing he'd prioritized essay marking over letter writing earlier in the evening.

"Yes, I must say it's a weight off my mind," Professor McGonagall replied, with a sharp nod, "Still, Hagrid was foolish to expose third years to the hippogriffs before they had learned and practiced the correct protocol, without the beasts present." she added, her tone suggesting she had said the words many times over in recent weeks.

"I believe Hagrid was given the position because of his enthusiasm for the subject," Remus said, "not his lesson planning ability." Remus knew that Care of Magical Creatures enrolment had been lacking of late, Professor Kettleburn had been somewhat hampered in delivering exciting lessons by his only retaining fifty percent of the limbs he was born with. It is, after all, a very hard task to wrangle a unicorn on a peg leg, and it's impossible to catch salamanders (and keep them alive) with a hook.

When Silvanus Kettleburn had reached retirement the Headmistress had decided that the subject was in need of fresh blood. Unfortunately the old adage was literal, and it was Draco Malfoy's blood courtesy of an insulted Hippogriff.

Professor McGonagall let out a huff and said "Yes, well, that was the idea but Mr Malfoy is still complaining of pain in his arm, though I suspect his captain is behind that," she mused, breaking off to look out the window to the heavy downpour beyond, "I don't envy our players out in this tomorrow," she said, "Wood is having a minor breakdown about the change in the draw due to Mr Malfoys injury."

Remus chuckled, "Yes, Harry isn't too pleased with him either, Wood I mean, he kept Harry talking so long about the game plan this morning that he was late to his defence lesson, Severus was slightly less forgiving than I might have been in the same situation."

McGonagall gave him a stern look, "Now Remus I hope you haven't been playing favourites," but the corner of her thin lips twitched. Remus knew she was remembering his first term teaching at Hogwarts the previous year. Snape had accused him of just that, and Harry had not helped matters. Twelve years old was apparently the age to rebel. But it had only taken six consecutive Saturday nights spent in detention for Harry to learn that just because his 'Uncle Moony' was his teacher didn't mean he would have an easy ride.

Remus had been somewhat dreading this year, because among the first year was his goddaughter Flora who, he had to admit he found it much more difficult to be hard on than Harry. Thankfully she seemed to have listened to Harry when he told her that 'Professor Lupin' was a right stick in the mud. Remus only knew about this view of his character because Sirius and James had taken great pleasure in re-laying Harry's warnings to Flora the previous Christmas holidays.

"Of course not Professor," Remus said. "Although I wish Severus didn't have to be quite so nasty to them."

"Once again, a man who was employed for his enthusiasm for the subject rather than his personality." Professor McGonagall said. "And he is mostly fair –'

"Potter and Black children excluded," Remus snorted, and McGonagall tutted at the interruption, but didn't comment further.

Remus winced slightly at the twinge in his ankle as they began the assent of the staircase to the third floor, he placed his next step more carefully.

While the wolfsbane potion meant Remus kept his mind during the hours the full moon was in the night sky, he still suffered aches and pains during the day preceding the moon and wasn't up to teaching. Thankfully, now that he just curled up in his wolf form and slept through the night he was normally well enough to teach by the following afternoon. Remus's role in the downfall of Voldemort, the public one, wherein he defeated the Dark Lord in single combat (rather than the actual one: being the terrified and unplanned decoy Lily Potter needed to smite the evil bastard from on high) meant that he could probably have still secured the Defence Against the Dark Arts professorship even if he needed a week off to allow for the full-moon. He didn't of course, and since he had spent the last twelve years trying to change the accepted public opinion of werewolves; lazy unemployable monsters, and while he couldn't do anything about the monster label – because it was technically true – the other two were changeable so he was always back at work as quickly as possible.

Remus had only taken the position on Hermione's urging. He knew all about her first three years at Hogwarts, thanks to her diligent records that he'd read during the war. The main difference was that Voldemort was nothing but mouldering corpse kept somewhere in the bowels of the Ministry, and so he was not up to possessing impressionable young Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers. In fact the reason for the job vacancy was that Quirinus Quirrell, who had taught up until 1990, was still on his grand tour – Because he hadn't had his travel plans interrupted and commandeered by Voldemort. A retired Auror had taught during the 90-91 school year, but found children were not as easy to control as Auror cadets and resigned after only three terms. This left the Headmistress without a professor in the subject again and Hermione had begged Remus to apply before the fraudulent Gilderoy Lockhart could get his overly manicured hands on the position.

Remus was sure Hermione's insistence was only because Flora was starting Hogwarts the following year and she did not want to risk Lockhart still being in the job. Of course Harry and Ron had not flown a car into the Whomping Willow so Ron had not broken his wand, and there was no horcrux diary to open the Chamber of Secrets. Both events being necessary for the confrontation between the cowardly Lockhart and the demined Harry and Ron that lost Lockhart his memory and his job to occur. So it was possible that he would retain his position. Remus had agreed to apply for job, unsettled by the idea of such a fraud teaching children.

Mr Weasley's car hadn't appeared in their lives until the summer just past. Harry and Ron had both spent a significant part of the holidays in the dog box for gong with Fred and George in Mr Weasley's car. Not for the noble reason of rescuing a locked up wizard boy from his nasty relatives, but because they wanted to see if the car was faster in the air than Harry's new broom. James had earned himself a severe look from Molly Weasley for asking the result of the race when she pushed Harry through the floo for parental punishment following the incident.

Having said good-bye to McGonagall at the gargoyle of her office Remus made the journey back to his office alone. It was nearing ten in the evening, he always found the trip down stairs much quicker than the climb to the seventh floor, his knees didn't twinge nearly as much and he was always eagerly anticipating the very large cup of tea he would make the moment he reached his rooms.

He still had forty-five minutes til moonrise, Remus smiled to himself as he compared this dignified stroll followed by calm self-made tea, to his time as a student in the castle. At an hour to go Madam Pomfrey had bundled up the bleary headed, and tea dependant teenager. Then they had headed out into the chilly Scottish night to secure him in the shack for the full moon's monthly appearance. While the addition of his friends as company had improved the experience for his last two and half years of school remarkably, feeling so human all the way through the night was no comparison. There was also the added bonus of not having to make the dash through all kinds of highland weather, just lock his office door, stoke the fire and make a pot of tea. It was almost like any other evening – except for not needing pyjamas and the excruciating five minutes of transformation at moonrise and dawn.

Remus was extremely glad to be able to stay indoors tonight, he was far too old to be out on a November night in a downpour like this one.

Remus was on the third floor when it happened. He heard rustling and quick footsteps, but thinking it only an out of bed student he was taken completely by surprise when suddenly there were ropes binding his ankles. He waved his left arm madly to try and keep his balance while his right hand scrabbled inside his cardigan for his wand.

"I don't think so." said a voice that Remus really didn't want to recognise. It was accompanied by a firm grip on the wrist of his wand-questing hand, and a sinister chuckle that made Remus think of detention and reprimands long past.

"Oh Christ." Remus muttered and the laughter increased.

"That's the spirit Moony!" said James's cheery voice.

"Good grief, you're both here." Remus said, somewhat horrified at the castles lacking security.

Remus felt a strong twinge of regret as he realised that the cup of tea he'd been looking forward to, and his lovely cosy rug, were going to go un-drunk and un-curled up on this evening.

^V^

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Mrs J. xx