The day Remus had gone missing, as Sirius was at home and frantic, looking for his Moony, James Potter stood in the office, leaning against his desk the way Underhill so often did at his own, staring at the clock over the door. His uniform was fresh pressed, hair as neat as he could get it without using that accused gloop his father sold (sorry dad, but that stuff is terrible, he thought), ready for the big day.

Underhill was to address the public, delivering the speech about his platform and intent to run for Minister for Magic. And he, James, would be by the side of the platform in the atrium, offering any assistance he could to the soon to be candidate.

Except to deliver a speech one must be present, and Mr. Underhill was not present.

James's knee bounced with anxiety.

He'd sent a patronus to Underhill's house near on an hour prior with no answer in return.

There was a knock on the office door and it was pushed open slowly, and then Annalee McKinnon, looking exhausted and no where near as fashionable as she usually appeared on a work day, stepped in.
She carried a clipboard and a pen with a long purple feather that matched her Ministry uniform. She looked around the office, "Is Mister Underhill nearly ready for his press conference?" She asked. She had a slight limp on one hip, and James realized she appeared shorter - her shoes flat instead of the pointed heels she usually favored. She had a scar on the left side of her chin; small, but still noticeably reddish compared to the rest of her complexion.

James swallowed back his nerves, "It's - er - nearing time?"

"Yes, he's expected upstairs in fifteen minutes!" Annalee said, consulting her clipboard. She raised an eyebrow, looking around the office. "James? Where is Mr. Underhill?"

James hesitated, then reached 'round Annalee and closed the office door. "He's not here." When she gave him an incredulous look, James added, "Yet."

"Well he better not be late," she said, "It would be positively awful if he was disqualified based on not showing up to declare his intent to run!" She clucked her tongue, then turned to the door. "You know the way up to the press room off the Atrium?"

"Yes, of course," James nodded.

"Very good," Annalee smiled, then slipped delicately through the door and into the hall, hugging the clipboard and still limping slightly. "I will see you both upstairs."

"That you will," James nodded.

The door closed behind her, and James waited precisely four seconds to make sure she didn't duck back in before he launched himself across the room, vaulting over the top of Underhill's desk, and tearing open the drawers, digging through various papers and small goods, pushing aside a rememberall and a sneakoscope, a perfectly square silvery cube he couldn't identify, and an assortment of other items until he found the small wood box at the bottom. He pulled the box out, flipped opened the lid and reached for what was inside...

Mr. Harry Underhill arrived in the Atrium press room only just in time for his speech. Annalee rushed forward as quick as her injuries would allow, and she ushered Mr. Underhill up the steps to the raised platform the podium stood upon.

"Where is James Potter?" she hissed to Underhill.

"Oh, uh, I sent him on a - a quick errand," Underhill said.

"You did? I'm sure he wanted to see your speech though," she said with a pitying frown as she led the way around the edge of the crowd of witches and wizards in the room.

"Yes I am sure he did," Underhill replied. He paused and looked up at the podium, and around at the crowd. He reached into the pocket of the suit pressed especially for today and withdrew a folded copy of the speech that had been read aloud for scrutiny in the office the morning before. He smoothed the crumpled paper out a bit, looking it over with a nervous expression.

Annalee smiled and stepped up onto the platform. "Good afternoon," she greeted the people who were gatherer about and staring up at her with questioning eyes. "I am proud to welcome Mr. Harry Underhill to share with us a bit of the platform for his nomination for Minister for Magic." She clapped as she stepped aside for Mr. Underhill to approach the podium.

As he climbed up the steps, Mr. Underhill spotted a young man in the crowd with bright blue hair. The young man held a quill and a notes pad, eyes glued to the nominee with a raised eyebrow... as though he knew what was actually happening here.

James worried if the polyjuice potion hadn't worked entirely.

The papers with the speech were laid out on the podium and his hands shook as he studied them a moment, then looked up to meet the eyes of the people watching as the polyjuice Underhill recited the speech as closely as he could to the way the real Underhill had done the day before.

Lily stared at James with an incredulous expression on her face. "You're telling me you delivered Underhill's speech?" Her jaw was dropped, eyes wide as two quid coins. "James! What were you thinking? Impersonating a Ministry offical?!"

"He would've been disqualified from running if he hadn't made his appearance," James said defensively.

"And what if you spoke out of turn on one of the points you made? That speech has already stirred the cauldron, so to say," Lily said, nervously, "What if you said something he wouldn't have done?"

"I delivered it word for word what he practiced and edited from yesterday," James replied. "The final copy he put in his pressed suit pocket."

Lily still looked nervous as she sighed and shook her head. "Oooh, I still don't like it, you could get in a good deal of trouble for polyjuicing him like that."

James sighed, "I couldn't let our hopes be ruined though, either. Underhill is the ticket we all need, Evans. I couldn't let him be disqualified based on something like this."

"Where do you recken he's at?" she asked. "Surely he knew how important this was. Why would he skive it off?"

"Dunno," James said, "But I'm honestly more worried about where Remus has got off to. Aren't you?"

Lily hesitated.

James raised an eyebrow. "Evans?"

She bit her lips and rolled over, reaching for her moisturizer and started slathering it on her arms.

"Evans?" James pressed. "You know something?"

Lily hesitated, "Well no... but - maybe. I have my suspicions... I'm not sure. He - he mentioned something before, two months ago, the night of the full moon with the wolfsbane? But - but I very much doubt - not without telling Sirius, I don't think..."

"Out with it, Evans."

Lily drew a deep breath,  vanilla and strawberry scent wafting in the air thanks to her lotion as she nervously applied it over her elbows. "Well he mentioned about Dumbledore wanting him to do - missions to the werewolves..."

"Missions to the werewolves? Whatever sort of missions?" James asked.

Lily shrugged, "He mentioned Dumbledore wanted him to be a sort of ambassador to them from the Order."

James shook his head. "He never would've done without telling Padfoot."

"Yes I doubt he would have also except -" she paused. "Well," she said, "It is close to the full moon, isn't it? It makes sense sort of."

"Excepy Stewie's with him," James pointed out.

"Both of them are werewolves," Lily murmured.

James stared at her, this information sinking in. "Dumbledore made him do this?" James asked, his voice a growl. "And I suppose he's made Remus keep it secret as well, yeah?"

"I don't know, James. That's the part that has me thinking I am wrong and honestly terrifies me the very most. I don't know what to think or do!" Her eyes were full of tears, "And what's worst is I can't feel Remus with the love magic, it's too close to full moon, the wolfish side of him has already begun at throwing me off. Remus is always such a subtle feeling anyway, and it's amazing I can feel anything 'round Sirius's anxiety."

Sirius was on the couch downstairs. He'd been going back and forth to the flat every hour to check if Remus or Spencer had returned, but to no luck. Lily, James, and Dora had been taking it in turns to sit with him.

Lily looked up as James pushed off from the bed. "Where are you going?"

"Hogwarts," James answered.

"At this hour?"

"If Dumbledore knows anything, we deserve to know."

Minerva McGonagall's lips were twisted with disapproval when she opened the front door of her house. She wore a tartan nightgown, hair braided and laid over her shoulder. Elphinstone Urquart stood just behind her, in a pair of blue striped pyjamas, his hair a fright. The patronus James had sent to let them know he was coming had awakened them both. "Mr. Potter," McGonagall said tightly, "What in Merlin's fine name is going on?"

"I have to talk to the Headmaster," James replied. "Order business."

"At this hour?" Urquart asked, looking quite put out.

"Yes it's terribly urgent. I need to use your direct floo, Minnie," he said, apologetically.

McGonagall nodded and stepped back, shuffling Urquart along as well. The pair led James through their little cottage to the hearth where Elphinstone lit the logs and Minnie collected the box they kept their floo powder in.

"Is everyone safe?" McGonagall asked, worry on her face as she offered the box to James.

James answered, "I hope so."

Her eyes pinched with nervousness.

"I dunno what I can say yet," James apologized.

She nodded with understanding, "Aye well ye'know I shall be prayin' for the lot."

He smiled reassuringly, then took the powder and stepped through the floo. "Minnie's office!" he said, and disappeared.

"Och that does unsettle me," she murmured, looking to her husband.

Elphinstone hugged her, "Have faith, Minnie m'dear," he said. "Whatever's on, we'll help at dealing with it as soon as we're able."

She nodded.

At Hogwarts, James dusted himself off as he strode across the worn rug on the floor of Minnie's office. Several cats scattered and hid as he passed by, and he wondered when she'd brought cats into her office at the school.

It was dark in the corridor as he walked purposefully along the way to the Headmaster's quarters, wand lit and held aloft. He had to remind himself several times over that it didn't matter much if Filch caught him in the halls - after all, he was a Professor these days, not a student out of bed. It still gave him a turn however when he saw Mrs. Norris staring up at him from the shadows.

"I'm not out of turn, sour puss," he said as she hissed at him.

He'd made it to the stone gargoyles at last and he stood before them and sent off a patronus to alert the Headmaster he was there, thinking that would be quicker than saying random names for sorts of sweets at the stone creature before him.

He was about to start with "lemon drops" when the gargoyle hopped aside and the Headmaster's door turned to reveal the moving staircase beyond. James drew a deep breath, stepping forward, gearing himself for an argument of defense should Dumbledore insinuate it wasn't James's place to know about Remus's location... He worried what fresh offense Dumbledore had done now, the laundry list of recent ticks against him running round James's mind. He arrivred to the landing, knocking, barely glancing at the pair of Wellies and potted plants set beside the door.

"Come in, Mr. Potter!"

James stepped inside. Dumbledore was bleary eyed, pouring himself a cup of tea, wearing a long, ancient men's nightgown and a dark blue shawl marked by golden swirls of thread.

"Would you care for a cuppa, Mr. Potter?" he asked, clearly still half asleep.

"No, sir, I'm hoping this won't be a long visit."

Dumbledore finished pouring and took a seat. "Well, do share then - what is it that's on your mind?"

"Remus Lupin's gone missing," he said with urgency.

Dumbledore looked up, and the sleep in his eyes cleared. "Missing?"

"Yes," James said. "He left the flat, no note, nothing said to Sirius... And with the moon being just a couple days from now..."

Dumbledore's expression of worry was genuine.

"I thought you might know something."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I fear not..." He put the kettle back to its hook over the hearth and hastened to the silver instruments on his bookshelves.

James hated that he had to wonder if Dumbledore truly knew nothing or if he was especially good at pretending not to.

But even as he watched, the instruments began to whirr and whiz and Dumbledore's expression clouded all the more with worry before he looked up with a mild air of irritation flickering in his eyes. It reminded James of the looks Dumbledore had given Regulus when he'd been asker about the way he was becoming transparent.

Dumbledore said, "He has gone to the werewolves," he murmured. "To challenge Fenrir Greyback."

"To - to challenge him?"

Dumbledore nodded, staring into a glass that flickered and flashed - like a telly screen from another room - and James wondered what he was looking at. "Yes," Dumbledore murmured. "And unfortunately there is nothing that we are able to do but await the results. To attempt to step in would only endanger him - and his company - further."