Most wizards don't believe in God around here, he mused, but he chose not to say that aloud; it wasn't a necessary piece of information, especially since he just imagined Sardonyx would say that one didn't have to believe in something for it to be real. Which was true, Remus had to admit; as logical as he liked to be, sometimes he found himself putting his hopes in something he wasn't even sure existed.
"She's an interesting one, all right," Remus agreed. "And quite pretty. She's good at making people laugh." Watching as Sardonyx labeled, he considered offering his help but wasn't sure if that would be insulting in any way; sometimes cultural customs varied on that subject. Then again, if he was anything like Hemingway, he would hate having to label things.
"He did," he answered, grimly amused by the way his dislike of potions was so obvious. "But I worry that even if he managed to get out before the full moon, the Wolfsbane would have no effect on him. You need seven full doses for it to work; he would have to break out tonight for it to be of any use to him."
This was a problem that had been plaguing Remus, ever since he had heard that they were breaking him out on Sunday, and he ran his hand through his hair as he was reminded of it. Hemingway was already a bit of a loose character and flirted with his wolf side more often than Remus did; hearing the stories about what was done to werewolves in facilities, he was worried that not only would Hemingway be hurt, he might have slunk into his animal mind in order to cope, and a werewolf's mind was no kind thing even in a human form. To have him transform without the aid of the Wolfsbane to calm him, they would need Moony, Padfoot, Prongs, and goodness knows what else to keep him at bay - and that would also require Moony to be in his right mind and not cursed with dementia either.
This was going to be one of the most difficult full moons Remus had had in a long while, and he was not looking forward to it.