Chapter Three
Frank learned quickly that the relationship John Lupin was trying to maintain with the werewolf community was a tenuous one at best.
More and more werewolves were becoming disenchanted with the Ministry and its policies, as well as the increasingly negative attitude toward werewolves in general. Voldemort's subtle campaign to discredit the government's treatment of them seemed to be working, and more and more werewolves were speaking out against the Ministry. Some gave their tacit support to Voldemort, while others came right out and called for the entire werewolf population to follow the Dark Lord. They were tired of being treated as second-class citizens through no fault of their own; the tragedy was in thinking Voldemort would treat them any differently.
Still, John Lupin tried. He worked tirelessly at keeping track of those werewolves who had registered, though many had given up on the registry as the war escalated, or gone into hiding for fear of being targeted by one or both sides. He counseled new werewolves and encouraged the old ones to have faith in the Ministry. He never gave up, and Frank began to sense a keen desperation in his efforts, as if John Lupin were determined to save more than just a small group of werewolves from betraying their humanity.
They guarded him just as Robertson had ordered: twelve hours on, twelve hours off. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Liam Smith relieved them halfway through the night so they could go home and sleep. At first Frank crashed hard, sleeping well past breakfast, but after a week he couldn't shake the feeling that something else was going on and began waking earlier and earlier to try and figure it out. He even started going into the office to sift through reports, old and new, trying to find something he could to give to Moody.
There were no other reports on goblins or werewolves, but a number of incidents involving giants, particularly in the south, caught his attention. It couldn't possibly be a coincidence, all three; Frank was certain Voldemort was planning something.
Alastor Moody listened carefully when Frank finally managed to sit him down and voice his concerns. The grizzled Auror nodded brusquely before standing to shake Frank's hand. "I think you're on to something, Longbottom," he had said in his typically blunt, gruff manner. "I'll let Dumbledore know. You keep on it. We need to figure out where it's going."
That was it: keep on it. So he did. When Dawlish and Robards were sent to Wales to investigate a suspicious death at the dragon reserve in the mountains, Frank's instincts screamed at him that he was right. Voldemort was recruiting dark creatures to his cause: werewolves, giants, maybe even dragons. That had to be it--but what could they do about it? They couldn't stop it ahead of time: they needed to figure out the endgame.
Fortunately, no attempts were made on John Lupin's life. Their protective detail was nothing but routine. Frank knew that as an Auror, he was supposed to keep his personal distance from Lupin, and for the most part, he did. Yet that didn't stop him from getting to know the man when they were together. John Lupin was strong, brave, and determined; Frank admired him more each day.
The flipside was that he felt as if he and Alice were growing apart. Not that they had been that close before the assignment, but they spent much of their time separated now: one of them with Lupin at all times, the other patrolling the area. He felt like he rarely saw her, and when he did, they certainly couldn't bicker and banter like they might have done back at the office, or if they were in the field on their own. They had to stay professional, and he found that he missed the teasing yet challenging remarks from her that had him rolling his eyes several times a day. He had started to enjoy the look on her face when he gave her that reaction, as if she had won a great victory and was keeping count of how often she could rankle him. He was fairly certain he hadn't rolled his eyes more than a few times while they were with Lupin.
It was well past midnight at the end of their two weeks with John Lupin that Frank followed him into the kitchen of his small cottage one last time. Lupin's wife had died several years earlier and he lived alone, his home a testament to the life of a widow: the decorative touches of a female hand, as well as pictures of her everywhere, along with their young son. Lupin had not talked about him much, but Frank vaguely remembered Remus Lupin from Hogwarts, a Gryffindor about four years below him. He'd hung around with three other boys, and though Remus was clearly not the leader, he had never-the-less been in trouble more than a few times with them. It was strange to think those students would be leaving Hogwarts in just a few weeks; Frank felt old.
Apparently so did John Lupin. He sat at the table, poring over reports with a glass of Muggle scotch at his elbow, running a hand through his lightly greying hair with a sigh. He had offered Frank a pour, but being on duty, Frank had refused. He helped himself to a glass of water instead and sat down across from Lupin.
"What's keeping you up so late?" he asked, sensing that perhaps Lupin needed to talk.
Lupin blew out a long breath as he sat back. "This. That. Everything. Nothing." He knocked back his snifter of scotch and poured himself another from the bottle on the table beside him. "More than anything, this damn war. These poor people who are being torn apart, from the inside and out."
Frank was silent. He wasn't sure what to say, even though he'd spent a good deal of time with John Lupin over the past two weeks. When it came to the war, sometimes there wasn't anything that could be said. Most wizards had been affected in some way or another, so sympathetic platitudes often rang hollow. John Lupin was on the front line, maybe not dueling directly with his wand, but working against the enemy none-the-less. His job was important, but it appeared as if he was fighting a losing battle in his efforts to keep the werewolf community from turning away from the Ministry.
"Are you a member of the Order of the Phoenix?" Frank found himself asking out of the blue. He wasn't even sure why he had asked it, other than it had been on his mind more and more since he had mentioned it to Alice and talked to Moody. It was possible, given the relative secrecy of the group, that Lupin was a member, but the older man gave Frank a surprised look.
"No, I'm not, but that's the second time I've heard about this Order of the Phoenix recently. My son mentioned it over Easter holidays." Lupin set down his quill and gave him a curious look. "You're young. Did you know him at Hogwarts? Remus Lupin?"
Frank nodded. "A bit. I was a fifth-year prefect when he was Sorted into Gryffindor. You know how it is with first-years, though. We tolerate yet generally ignore them."
Lupin nodded absently, his eyes distant, as if he were engrossed in some powerful memory, and Frank felt the need to say something, anything, to break the pensive mood. "I remember that group of first-years, though. I had to dock them points a few times."
"A few?" To his relief, John Lupin laughed. "I'm sure you're being generous. I know that lot well, and you probably took points at least once a month."
Frank couldn't help but grin. "Well, yes. But I don't think Remus was the instigator."
Lupin laughed even harder. "Then you didn't know my son. He didn't always start things, but he came up with quite a few of their ideas."
Frank had not known the young Gryffindors well enough to recognize the truth of Lupin's statement. He remembered Sirius Black, a Slytherin legacy unexpectedly Sorted into Gryffindor and as brazenly self-assured as a seventh-year, and James Potter, well-off and confident to the point of arrogance and entitlement. Both boys had got into plenty of trouble on their own, settling quickly into a pattern of both pranks and fights that was unusual for students their age. There had been a smaller boy who had followed them quite a bit, and then there had been Remus: quiet and calm, studious but often joining his friends for a good joke or a late night party. He had never bullied anyone, though; for some reason Frank remembered that quite clearly, and he suspected Remus must have got that from his father.
"Why was Remus talking about the Order?" asked Frank, curious whether or not the group was common knowledge at Hogwarts. Alice had not heard of them, and he knew from speaking to Moody that it was a small band of fighters, working quietly but tirelessly against Voldemort. Frank wasn't sure what they did exactly and why they remained behind the scenes, but he was smart enough to know it could only help in the war.
"He wants to join when he's through with school," Lupin replied, shaking his head. "Black and Potter are apparently going to join, but they have money. They can fight full time. Remus needs a job, a way to support himself. He'll pull more than enough N.E.W.T.s, but with his--" He stopped himself with a cough and started over. "With the war, he doesn't think he'll find much. He'd rather fight with his friends."
Frank wondered what Lupin had meant to say, but filed it away for later. "You don't think he should?"
Lupin was silent as he stood and began to gather his papers, favoring his left leg. He stopped to massage his thigh, for the injury he'd had from Greyback five years earlier left it subject to painful cramps, particularly when he sat for too long. "I'm just being an old, selfish parent. I don't want to lose him. He'd be in terrible danger, fighting against You-Know-Who's forces."
"Everyone is in danger," Frank pointed out. "You still fight." John Lupin smiled, his face tired and worn. It couldn't be easy, living with the constant threat of being attacked for his work, and having two Aurors constantly underfoot, even if it was to protect him.
"Not directly. I'm just trying to do my part to help the werewolves. You-Know-Who won't treat them any better. I need them to understand that." Frank nodded, knowing it was true. And again, the thought niggled at the back of his head that Voldemort's attempts to win the werewolf community were part of a bigger plan to increase his forces. He was glad someone like John Lupin was trying to stop that from happening and idly wondered what drove him to continue such dangerous, and at times desperate, work.
John Lupin held out his hand, and Frank stood to take it. It was their last night with him; a new set of Aurors would rotate in within a few hours to make sure he remained safe from Fenrir Greyback. A part of Frank was reluctant to be leaving Lupin, but another part was glad to get back to the office and settle into a more normal routine, particularly with his partner. He was also determined to try and work out Voldemort's plans. He wasn't sure Robertson would believe him, but Moody could take the information to Dumbledore.
"It's been a pleasure working with you, Frank," said John. "You're a good man. Thank you for all that you and Alice have done."
"We haven't had to do much, sir, but you're welcome," said Frank. "Good luck. I hope you're able to make some progress. We need all the help we can get to hold back You-Know-Who."
John nodded as he left the kitchen. "I'll do my best. Who knows, maybe my son will be joining the fight soon as well. Good night." Frank could tell that despite the concerns he had just expressed, John Lupin was proud of the idea that his son might make a difference in the war.
After a moment or two, Frank followed and stood guard outside his room. In the hallway was a picture of John with his son. It could not have been from that long ago, as Remus appeared to be in his older teens. He looked strangely pale and exhausted for someone so young, with a large scar across his face that Frank did not remember from school. The photograph reminded Frank of his own father, who had died well over a decade ago, leaving him to grow up with only his mother, much as Remus Lupin had been raised by only his father. In her own way, Augusta Longbottom was just as strong as John Lupin. At the moment, she did not actively fight against Voldemort's forces, but neither did she support any of the old pureblood prejudices seeping back into magical society, and in fact spoke against them whenever she could, standing up for Muggle-borns much as John Lupin stood up for werewolves.
As he gazed at the photograph, Frank admired John Lupin's determination to help the werewolves even more, and once again wondered what inspired the man to risk so much. He hoped Lupin's hard work paid off--for him and his son, as well as the rest of the wizarding community.
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Love and Order by Gmariam
Chapter Endnotes: Thank you once again to Kara/karaleydargen for her extra hard work on this chapter! She really whipped it into shape. Thoughts? Comments? Reviews are love! I know not much happened in this chapter, but hold on to your hats for the next one...