The Extraordinarily Annoying Wolf's Den
20 July, 1995

Dear Harry,

          I'm afraid Hedwig had an unpleasant encounter with one of Remus' most lovely neighbours: a young Occamy, which we suspect to have been smuggled into the country as an egg and abandoned in this area soon after hatching. Hedwig got here 4 days ago with a big scratch along her back and some smaller cuts on the head—and your letter safely attached to her leg, she was obviously proud to show me. I didn't feel like sending her back before she was properly healed. And since Remus' owl is out for a long-distance call, the nearest Post Office is miles away, and the only other owl that has showed up here lately was Snape's (and I'm telling you, that bird looks just as friendly and pleasant as his owner)... To put it briefly: sorry this took so long, but I really couldn't reply any sooner. Hope you didn't get worried.

          My wrist is okay now. And in my experience, a dislocated wrist hurts just the same no matter how you get it, be it in a slightly unsuccessful Apparition, in a Quidditch match, or in an attempt to "fix" some dimwit's nose. (More godfatherly advice? Never try to hit a Bludger without a bat, and never raise your fists to fight a schoolmate—use your wand.) Of course, there's the chilly thrill of thinking, "wow, I almost left my arm back in Edinburgh"... Should I repeat it? NEVER try Apparating with a borrowed wand.

          (And Remus, who finally got so upset with me that he IS reading this over my shoulder, is adding, "Pay close attention to everything your godfather does, Harry, and do the exact opposite". Sweet.)

          So, I got you wrong, didn't I? You're eating your share, your uncle's, plus the food packages from Ron and Hermione... and somehow you still manage to look as thin as a broomstick handle? Merlin's beard, Harry, you've gotta sell your secret to the Witch Weekly, you'll make millions!

          OR, you could tell me the truth for a change. There must be a reason why your friends keep sending you food packages after all.

          Fine, so I'm sickly thin too, but I do have an excuse for that, you know. The food in Azkaban wasn't bad--the meals were prepared for house-elves, and I suspect they can't make an bad-tasting dish to save their lives—, but eating was too much of a happy thought to be allowed by the Dementors. (Hermione's observations got me thinking: the Azkaban elves must be terribly unhappy, cooking for a crowd of moribund fellows that are utterly incapable of appreciating their effort.)

          Er, Harry? When you say you got "about three days in solitary", what exactly do you mean? I won't ask how you got punished for something your cousin broke, though. That was always happening to me. Who broke the feet of McGonagall's desk? It MUST have been Sirius. Who transfigured Flitwick's cloak into bracken leaves? Oh, Sirius, surely. Who got the pages of Centaurs, a Sociological Portrait all soiled with chocolate? It's gotta be Sirius, no question about it. Really, it was quite tiresome sometimes. Remus got away with everything because no one would think a boy so calm and studious could be so devious. James got away with almost everything because he looked so innocent and harmless with those glasses. Peter... well, no need to mention what he's managed to get away with.

          Remus insists I was the one who messed with Flitwick's cloak. But I guess he's just trying to annoy me. I remember that one very well, it was James, he was the one who commented that Flitwick's new green cloak draped in a funny way when he moved, it looked as if it was alive, so after our class, when everyone else had run down to the Great Hall for lunch, James distracted him with some questions about Cleaning Charms while I...

          Erm...

          Okay, so that was me. But I had nothing to do with the accident with McGonagall's desk. That was Moony, and I wasn't even around when it happened, I was in the hospital wing, so I can't for the life of me figure how I got to be blamed for that one.

          I know I complained before about Remus not reading over my shoulder. I'd like to take it back now. Not because there's anything wrong with reading over someone's shoulder, but because I'd never have wished him to do it if I knew he would drop caustic, smart-alecky remarks at every single word I write. Even knowing him for so long, I had absolutely no idea he could be SO irritating. Besides, I can't for the life of me figure why he's so pissed off about that letter I sent yesterday, I was very polite and I didn't call the Snake any bad names, which is something the Snake himself can't say about his own behaviour, is it?

          Explaining the matter to you, Harry... well... Snape wrote saying some things to Remus, and Remus wrote back saying some other things, and Snape wrote again saying some stuff after that, and I finally thought it was time to add some thoughts of my own to the discussion. And for some reason Moony is upset about that. Come on, it's not that big a deal. And anyway, he started it.

          Answering your question: we did study the Unforgivable Curses at school. Just not so early. I think it was in our sixth year, Remus says it was in our seventh, it's hard to remember after so long. But we didn't have any practical demonstrations. I remember we spent a whole term discussing them in depth and that we had to write essays about both the working of the curses and the ethic problems involved in casting them.

          Remus tells me the students were all very behind when he started teaching at Hogwarts, so there was little time to approach any subject thoroughly. His seventh-years were introduced to the Unforgivable Curses basic theory, possible defences and legal aspects. On the other hand, I reckon I wouldn't have been surprised at the thought of the real Moody giving fourth-years a closer look at the subject, appalling as it might be. It is the kind of thing he would do. I suspect you'll have the chance to meet him in the near future, so you'll know what I mean by that.

          I'm not sure of what to say about the Amazing Bouncing Ferret incident. I kept imagining a miniature version of Lucius Malfoy being turned into a fluffy, snowy ferret and hopping madly all over the place, and I can't deny I found the image hysterically funny. Then again, this is the kind of topic about which I should keep my mouth shut, before someone reminds me that not all of my pranks in my school days were completely harmless.

          A teacher attacking a student, a fully trained grown-up wizard attacking a child, yeah, that sounds awful. I don't think I'd list public humiliation as a minor affront though. Furthermore, it's hard to establish what exactly is line-crossing when you have old Filch grunting longingly for the old days, when he was allowed—or so he claimed—to make use of dragon-scaled ferules and iron cuffs hanging from the ceiling. The methods for disciplining disobedient children were much harsher before our time, you know. My father had some spooky stories to tell about Filch's predecessor, Mr Pringle—although Father might have exaggerated them a bit in an attempt to scare me out of my career as a prankster—, and he did mention that Transfiguration was customarily used in the past to teach kids to "behave properly".

          I'm afraid not even hindsight is that accurate, Harry. Barty Crouch might have been "protecting" you to safeguard his corrupt agenda, or he might have been venting his own anti-Malfoy issues on Lucius' son, or he might have been simply assuming that was what Moody would have done in that situation. I keep coming back to the same point: McGonagall was there and saw what happened, and it's reasonable to assume she told Dumbledore; they both know Moody and apparently they did not think that behaviour was that much out of character for him. They didn't see any clues. So what was there for you to suspect?

           Remus now asks me how can I write this without blushing. Well, if he were looking at my face instead of peeking at my letter, he'd see I AM blushing, idiotic wolf. Yes, I know I do the same thing about Peter. I know I keep looking back at the past and wondering when exactly he started passing information to Voldemort, when he decided his hide was more important than his friends, and whether he let any clues slip that could have made me realise the truth in time to save James and Lily. And I know this is all pointless and that the past can't be changed, but I keep doing it anyway. Is it that unusual if I hope my godson will be smarter than me?

          My point is, you couldn't have known, Harry. You couldn't have saved Diggory. Anyone who blames you for it is spitting balderdash.

          And you were right: I didn't like the story of how that Lockhart fellow ended up in St Mungo's. I liked it even less when Moony offered me the few details he heard from Dumbledore and that you omitted in your letter. As a matter of fact, I'm seriously displeased with the whole tale about your DADA teachers. Rest assured that the Headmaster and I will have another very long talk about the security measures in the castle—and more importantly, around you.

          I read the part of your letter about Remus' teaching year aloud to him. (He wasn't so angry with me yet when I got your letter, so he was still his usual I-don't-peek-at-other-people's-letters self.) It painted a goofy smile on his face, which turned into a Mona Lisa grin when you mentioned the Snape-Boggart (damn! I wish I could have seen that!), and then turned into a grimace when you said he would never hurt anybody. He shook his head and disappeared into his bedroom, muttering something about you and me being too much alike for his taste.

          He doesn't like me to say he's not capable of hurting people. Apparently he fears I'll suddenly forget he's a werewolf or something like that. Or maybe he fears a reprise of a certain prank of mine from nineteen years ago. At any rate, he seems happier when I admit he can be dangerous at times. Maybe that's why he's so readily forgiven me for suspecting him to be the traitor. I really don't understand him sometimes.

           By the way, he wholeheartedly agreed that I'm a real handful, and said he's taking the collar and lead suggestion in consideration. (Hah. Over my dead body, wolfie!) Also said he hopes you keep lecturing me, and wishes you good luck putting some sense into my brick-hard head. Jeez, is the world ganging up on me or what?

          Speaking of which... It's strange, Harry, in a way it's a relief to know that you're wary of people who treats you nicely, even myself. It did cross my mind that someone could take a leaf out of Barty Crouch's book and impersonate me to get to you, for example. This situation is nothing short of a nightmare, but you MUST be extremely cautious from now on.

          Everyone believed I was a traitor, believed I killed those people and was in Voldemort's payroll. People who knew me, who were my friends. And so many still believe so and hate me deeply for it. I don't really know how I feel about that, to tell you the truth. I don't reckon the fact I wasn't the traitor, didn't kill those people and wasn't in Voldemort's payroll excuse me of my sins. I'm still amazed that you want to have anything with me at all.

          On the other hand, it makes no sense to me that you'd be worried about people not liking you or liking you only for your scar. I know I haven't talked to that many people since I got out of prison, but I can tell you it's very clear to me that everyone I have talked to--with the obvious exception of Peter and Snape—do like you a lot, and curse scars and press epithets have nothing to do with it.

          And of course I care if you're around or not! As in, don't you DARE not to be around. That's a possibility I sincerely don't wish to contemplate.

          Did I get that right? That nosy reporter writing that crap in the Daily Prophet... is a fellow unregistered Animagus? And Hermione has her... in a jar? Like some pet insect?

          Harry, you were joking when you mentioned that collar for me, weren't you? Really, you kids are starting to scare me. I mean, you do know you can't keep someone in a jar, right? That's kidnapping. Or bug-napping, perhaps. Anyway, it's very illegal. Not to mention wrong. I couldn't care less about the woman, but I don't want to see any of you kids in Azkaban, so please tell me that was a joke and that I'm making a fool of myself by freaking out like this.

          Oh good, Moony is out in the garden now, so I can tell you the true story. Remember I told you that he and Snape have been exchanging letters? Well, I don't know how he did it, but he's actually got the slimy git to be more civilised in his writing. Almost friendly. Or at least less venomous. Toward Remus, I mean; he still loathes me with all his heart.

          Anyway, those two were apparently discussing pedagogy—in other words, the most effective ways to get the students not to doze off or suffer spontaneous combustion in the middle of a class. I didn't get to read everything Snape wrote, but either I'm very mistaken or he listed frogs as a useful pedagogic tool. Something about "concealing a small tree frog in the beds of recalcitrant students" to persuade them to rectify their manners. (You can just hear his voice, can't you?)

          Now sit down, because this is not all. Moony asked him, I reckon, if Snape tried that clever tool on Frank Longbottom's kid. And the Snake said he did not because—are you ready for this?—he couldn't get the Fat Lady to give him the password into the Gryffindor tower.

          Evidently, I wasn't supposed to have read that. But I did. And since I did, I thought I should be nice and friendly toward him too, so I sent him a short letter with good, friendly advice. Such as, "next time try using the magic word".

          And that is why Moony is so pissed off. He all but told me that I ruined his blooming friendship with Snape. And since I'm not grovelling around in grievous remorse, he's been giving me a hard time since then.

          In any event, I thought you'd like to know. And maybe spread the news to Ron, Hermione, and everyone you know?

          I need to fold this and send Hedwig on her way quickly before Moony comes back and makes me erase the last paragraphs. I'm glad my letters have made you feel better—I'll try to write as often as possible. (And of course I read your last letter to the last line, you silly boy! Read it at least ten times since Hedwig arrived.) Let me know if you're sleeping better now, and if Hedwig is okay after the trip back home.

          Please take good care of yourself, okay? You mean everything to me.

          Your concerned godfather,

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written by Morgan D.
June 16th, 2003

The characters and universe of the Harry Potter series are a creation of J.K. Rowling, and their copyrights belong to her and her associates, such as Bloomsbury, Scholastic Books, Warner Bros and Merlin-knows-who-else. The sole purpose of this fanfiction piece is to offer the fans some fun.