This started off as a response to the 'Taboo Challenge', where the challenge was to write about a character or characters while avoiding the use of certain taboo phrases, characters, situations, etc. I choose Kingsley Shacklebolt, whose taboos were: Arthur Weasley, Ministry of Magic, the Order, "brave".

However, what was supposed to have been a one-shot has since grown into a multi-chapter fic and doesn't completely follow the rules of the challenge in the later chapters.

Please, review and tell me what you think: good? Bad? In character? Poorly worded? Your comments are very much appreciated!

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Kingsley Shacklebot stared at the photographs and files that covered his kitchen table. Faces stared back at him, faces from his time at Hogwarts but greyer and older than he remembered. Well, two of them were; older and more worn than their years. The others, well the other three faces were a little older than he remembered but not by much and none of those three would get any older; James Potter, Lily Evans and Peter Pettigrew. He remembered them all from Hogwarts, two years older than himself but in the same house. Just two years older and all three were dead, had been dead for twelve years and all because of that other face on his table.

Sirius Black.

Kingsley remembered him as well. He shook his head sadly and tried to rub the tiredness from his eyes. He just couldn't seem to resolve the laughing boy with a quick arrogant smile and confident swagger with the drawn, gaunt face in front of him. He couldn't resolve that boy with a man who had betrayed his closest friend to Voldemort, with a man who had escaped from Azkaban and now appeared to be trying to kill his godson.

He rubbed his eyes again. It didn't help. He was exhausted but couldn't seem to get to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the faces that littered the table in front of him. Those faces, and another, a younger one that looked like James when he was thirteen but with Lily's stunning green eyes and a lightening shaped scar.

Harry James Potter.

He hadn't seen the boy. He never been particularly close to the Potters', had never had a chance to see their pride and joy before they went into hiding and after… well, after that night nobody had seen him until he'd started Hogwarts. No, he hadn't seen him but Harry had been described to him and Kingsley could see him in his mind's eye. Could quite clearly see the boy he had to try and protect from a mad man.

Black seemed to have disappeared into thin air. They had found no trace of him yet and apart from that heart-stopping moment three days ago when Harry had disappeared from his Aunt and Uncle's; when they'd been so afraid that Black had already succeeded, they had no idea where to even start looking. Well, that wasn't quite true…

Kingsley picked up the fifth picture and stared at it, then put it down and picked up the folder next to it. He flicked through the folder, not really paying attention as he'd read it all before, several times.

Remus Lupin.

Remus had been good friends with James and Sirius at Hogwarts. He didn't need a file to tell him that. He had needed the file to tell him that Remus was a werewolf. That Remus had been bitten when he was a child. That Kingsley had slept in the same tower as a werewolf for five years. That Dumbledore had been mad enough to let a werewolf stay in the same castle as hundreds of other children… but… nothing had happened. Nobody had been bitten, nobody had been as much as scratched, well at least as far as the records were concerned, and if anything had happened it would have been all over the school.

He picked up the picture again and stared at it. Remus Lupin. Kingsley could still see the boy he'd known at Hogwarts, hidden behind too many grey hairs and eyes that had seen too much loss and pain and death. Remus looked far older than his years, but then that Halloween twelve years ago must have hit him hard and life could hardly be easy for a werewolf trying to make ends meet in the wizarding world, not with all that prejudice floating around.

Prejudice.

Kingsley frowned. He liked to think of himself as an open minded man, one not prone to making judgments too quickly, not prone to assuming someone was guilty just because they had the wrong parents, or had been in Slytherin, or looked dodgy or… grew fur once a month. He had thought himself fair minded, and yet… and yet… he hadn't been able to suppress a shiver of horror that he had been so close to a werewolf for five years and never realised it. He felt guilty about it now, looking at the photo of tired, quiet, bookish Remus. Remus who had helped cheer the first years up when they were feeling homesick, who had laughed and played pranks with his friends, who had made sure everyone got enough sleep during exams, who had looked like he wouldn't hurt a fly. Remus had been a werewolf at school and had never harmed anyone, he had been a boy like any other and Kingsley hated himself a little for that slither of prejudice he hadn't know he had in him.

He made another futile attempt to push the sleep from his eyes. He knew Remus was the best place to start, he'd known Sirius well, might be able to help them work out what the Azkaban escapee would do, where he might go. Oh, they had aurors watching Remus' cottage in case Black showed up there and somebody had been to ask the man a few questions but Kingsley knew he needed to conduct a proper interview with him.

Kingsley hated to admit it but he was a little apprehensive about this interview and he wasn't quite sure why; it wasn't so much the fact that Remus was a werewolf he was worried about but more that Remus might be able to spot that little slither of involuntary prejudice that Kingsley had only recently found and was still trying to exorcise. Nobody likes the thought that somebody else might be able to see the deep dark parts of their soul, the parts that have often been unsuccessfully wished away. It was a perfectly normal fear and in all honesty Kingsley suspected he would be meeting Remus with an unfair advantage in that respect; already knowing about his secret, monthly monster.

He stood up resolutely and began putting away the files and photographs. Contemplation alone and at this time of night could only lead to maudlin thoughts which were hardly constructive. No, he'd get try to get some sleep and then talk to Remus in the morning.

After everything was put away, he headed upstairs to bed. He caught a glimpse of the shining, full moon out of the bedroom window and sighed; maybe tomorrow wasn't the best day to visit Remus.