A/N: I do not own Lyall Lupin or any other of the canonical Harry Potter characters that I use in this fic. There will be chapters, and please review, because I'm trying something new and want to make sure ya'll like it. I love bringing canon underrated or no-show characters into light with writing fanfiction, but with this character in particular. I have done roleplays with this character in it and developed him thoroughly. All canon characters belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. The originals however, which their may be a few of, all belong to me.

Most people believed that the world re-owned Ministry of Magic worker, Lyall Lupin, had died somewhere along the line after his retirement. His own son even believed such information- and this was probably the part that hurt the most for Lyall. After he had retired at the Ministry, he had slipped into a dark, secret 'career' in which he was hiding out in his basement, brewing up illegal potions and oogling in blood magic books for ancient curses, with nothing but the company of his house elf companion, Clé.

That was enough for him, of course. Keeping himself enlisted in files as deceased helped things move along slowly for him, without having to worry about the Ministry keeping a close eye on him and his illegal potions ingredients and magical artifacts. Lyall played the role of a mad scientist, if you will, a very poor one in fact- not like the rich, crazed money-makers you see in movies- who frequently would summon food and beverages from the neighboring homes, sly as ever, using the obliviation spell to wipe their slates clean after he had a nice meal.

Clé," He began thoughtfully as he wiped up dragons blood off from the table using an old rag that used to have belonged to the house elf. Not because he treated her as a slave- but, because he had only most recently learned how to sew and knit, taking some time out of his lone days to spruce her up a small, girly wardrobe. "What are you doing?" His eyes gazed at her in wonder over the rim of his thin spectacles. There she stood over by one of the shelves of vials of potion, fiddling around with one in particular. He furrowed his brow. She knew that was against the rules, but she still did it. Lyall could never bring himself to yell at her, though.

"I was just thinking.." Her old voice croaked, although her unique milky brown eyes displayed nothing but youth and a certain curiosity that honestly- even though he would never go as low as to swear- scared the shit out of Lyall. ".. Somebody stopped by the other day."

In all the double-digited years he had spent down here in the cellar, completely unbothered, this would be enough to trigger his swearing. But not today. "Wh- WHAT? When?! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I'm sorry, Lyall." She dipped down, doing a little bow. "But- um- it was a man that said he wanted to see you." Her eyes sparkled slightly. "I think I recognized him, he looked a lot like you when you were younger-"

"Remus?" Lyall felt a lump in this throat, even at the sound of his own voice uttering the name. Remus Lupin, a werewolf and his son, the son he hadn't stuck around to take care of. You see, there was a very long, unusual story as to why Remus had never discovered Lyall's identity, existence, or the fact that he was his father in general.

It all started just before Remus' fifth Birthday. All was well at home, but not so much at the Ministry. The whole department went ballistic when Lyall nearly threw himself at a poor 'muggle tramp, Fenrir Greyback, who claimed to be none more than an innocent muggle scooped up by a whole bunch of threatening men with wands. Noticing the signs of the werewolf, Lyall had a counterargument up and ready to roll, but when it came out, it apparently didn't seem as nice and understanding as it may have seemed in his mind beforehand.

Instead, he referred to the creatures as 'souless, evil and deserving nothing but death', which was a phrase that he had no idea he would find himself regretting and playing over and over in his head, even to this day. He was the reason Remus had to suffer every full moon. No father should do that to their son. And Lyall didn't want to stick around for it. About to haul up and leave, a desperate, heartbroken Hope Lupin begged him to stay with their son on this last full moon. And when she said last, he hadn't figured that she had literally meant it.

So, that night, they locked him up, an exhausted Lyall having to place an even higher amount of enchantments on the room than usual. The howling and thrashing was nothing but normal business to them- just as long as nobody outside of their house heard it. When the howling and thrashing stopped, however, that was when it started to worry them. Lyall had been laying down, trying to clear his mind and enjoy a novel. He paid no mind when his wife slipped out of bed- as damned curious as she was- and snuck downstairs to see what was going on with Remus.

Once Lyall had realized that Hope hadn't gone down just to 'get a glass of water' as she had claimed, he found himself horrorstruck, a crazy scene before him. The door to Remus' transformation room was wide open- but there was no wolf in sight. He turned around just in time for a gigantic, slobbering creature swinging its paw at his head.

"Jesus-" He ducked, and good thing he had. Lyall's heart pounded in his ears, his chest heaving as he crawled across the floor, trying to reach safety. It was then when a horrifying realization hit him- Hope must have opened the door. Where was Hope?

He heard the monster's teeth knash against something, a eardrum shattering scream emitting from just behind him. Lyall shook, propping himself up on all fours, preparing to get slashed to death. He couldn't look. Remus couldn't have..

A sudden gust of wind at his feet brought Lyall back into reality. He threw himself into the enchanted room, locking the doors, holding them shut, and muttering all of the possible protective charms he knew. Hope. HOPE. She was the only thing he would think about. No matter how much he wanted to go out there and save her- if it was even still possible yet- even a fool wouldn't have gone back out. Lyall loved Hope, but he knew better. And he also knew that by the sounds of that attack, he had most likely already lost her. His eyes snapped shut as he leaned against the door, falling into a sitting position and breaking down.

No one else knew about this. It all came back to Lyall in an instant- hours on end full of sobs, silent scream, and prayers to a God he didn't he believe in that both Hope and his son would be okay. Part of him hesitated though, and this made him feel like even worse of a father- If a son killed his mother, was he even deserving of his love anymore? No, no. Lyall, of course he is- he doesn't understand. He can't help it.

But even these explanations made Lyall more and more furious with his son and most of all, himself. He left shortly after that- left and never turned back, leaving Remus with close friends of his- adoptive parents who would pose as Hope and Lyall Lupin. So, most technically, Lyall had to retire at that point. At least from anything serious. Under the Ministry's radar he no longer existed, and he felt it was better that way. So what was Remus doing knocking at the door of his old childhood house he shouldn't have remembered? Did he remember something-? Lyall's breath caught. "Cle, what did he say?" He asked, voice thick with sadness and long lost memories.

"Not very much," Cle crossed her boney arms over her chest. "When he saw me he looked all cringey and said 'I'll be back later, then'. What a critic- just because I'm a house elf, I must not know anything?" She pulled a small dagger- fit simply for her, with ancient engravings littering it's shaft- from a small leather strip- a 'belt'- that Lyall had designed especially for her upon request. She pierced it through the air, making her point. "I'll show him my intelligence."

"Stop, stop.." muttered Lyall thoughtfully, not paying much mind to his elf now. "No need to be so feisty." He pushed his glasses neatly back up onto the bridge of his nose. "What do you mean by later? When did he come by, again?"

"Oh, about twenty minutes ago-" replied Cle, seeming very unconcerned.

"What?! Twenty minutes ago?! I-" He stampered. "Where was I-?"

"Mm, bitching about some potion to yourself about how useless it was, as you made it." She squeaked, shrugging. "I didn't want to interrupt you- you were in your happy place."

"Next time my long lost son is at my door step, please, let me know." He hissed from his clenched jaw, trying his best to keep his cool. His hazel eyes looked at Cle expectantly.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Do you want to write to him or somethin'?"

"Yes, that would be nice.." Lyall gestured for a pen and parchment, which he got handed immediately. What do you even write to your son that you abandoned with two crappy fake foster parents when he comes looking for you? 'Hey I'm your dad, sorry I left you, you killed your mother you sick bastard'? No. He tapped his pen against the piece of aged parchment, thinking. That wouldn't do.

Another knock at his front door- all the way upstairs- tore him out of his thoughts. Just as Cle was about to hobble up the winding wooden staircase and answer it, Lyall swooped in, standing in front of her with his hand held out. "Seriously?" He questioned, crooking an eyebrow. He couldn't help but to suppress a chuckle that threatened to bubble up in his throat.

"I'll.. get the door." He pointed at her. "You- stay here, will you?" He had returned to his usual kind, cheerful self. Exceptionally cheerful for being mostly alone all the time. "I need some help finishing cleaning up that dragons blood from one of the work stations, and maybe we should leave the trap door upstairs open, we sure could use some airing out of this place- you know, before we kill ourselves." said Lyall, the casualness of this otherwise alarming statement almost painful to hear.

"Alrighty, Lyall." She sighed, waving her hand in the air at him in dismissal. "I'll have it done."