Lupin places his fork on his plate delicately, and abandons his meal, looking at Ron directly with something that Hermione’s never seen on his face before. "Imagine you've been raised to believe influence is power, money is power, family is power. Your family is tortured and controlled. He-who-must not-be-named lives in your house. The darkness, the terror. You're forced to do horrible things you don't want to, or else your mother will die a terrible death. You’re given more power, as an inner circle member at 16, the youngest in both wars combined, and everyone is telling you it’s a great thing, fantastic, you should be proud, but...you start to have doubts, as you watch muggles being tortured and killed, and then you are forced, as well. When you throw up afterwards, you don't know why you feel so guilty." Lupin turns a little now, faces the rest of the room, addressing all of them. His eyes are kind, but weigh heavily on Hermione’s shoulders. 