Werewolves, of course, can't generally support themselves in the Muggle world. Finding steady employment that allows for full moons off isn't easy in the best of times; finding a job that pays enough for a sturdy cage and repairs to it — let alone for Wolfsbane! — is essentially impossible. The few werewolves that are forced out into the Muggle world typically turn to a life of crime almost immediately, and rarely last a full month: either circumstances are mysterious, and the Ministry of Magic intervenes; or circumstances are not mysterious, in which case the Muggle police typically have no problem catching someone who doesn't know what fingerprints are, much less closed-circuit television.
Remus Lupin considered himself very lucky in this regard. Unpleasant as it was, he hadn't actually been forced out of the magical world after James and Lily's death. He was quite able to support himself well enough to afford a cage, and even the occasional dose of quietly-purchased Wolfsbane. In the unlikely event that the Ministry cared enough to know where he was and what he was doing, they couldn't legally do a thing to him as long as he didn't use magic —
— and, he thought to himself as the safe swung open, the Yard were unlikely to have the resources to catch him. Assuming they even realize, he thought as he cheerfully removed stacks of fifty-pound notes from the safe; that I'm not cousin Arsène.
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