Chapter Seventeen
The bed in her spare bedroom was truly awful. How did Fenrir manage to sleep on it for so many nights without complaining? Though it had taken her a long time to fall asleep once she laid down, eventually she had. But even with the sleep she managed to get, when she woke up the next morning, Hermione was every bit as exhausted as she was when she first climbed into his bed after her bath. Perhaps if the bed had been more comfortable and it didn't remind her entirely of the werewolf who'd only recently been there, she might have been able to sleep again until she was no longer tired.
In the light of the new morning, she should have felt a little bit better about her dramatic exit, but she didn't. If she'd been so frustrated and disheartened by Fenrir running away from her after they kissed both nights, why would she do the exact same thing? Someone had to be the adult in the situation. Either they were going to have to talk about what happened like grownups or she would need to say goodbye to him forever. Her self-esteem couldn't take another brutal rejection.
Crookshanks was angry to be back. Even in just a few days in Scotland he'd managed to make himself at home in Fenrir's home. He loved the fresh air and woods to explore. There was a pillow on the floor next to the fireplace he'd claimed immediately that first night. Clearly fallen from the nearby sofa, he made himself so comfortable on it that neither Hermione nor Fenrir had the heart to pick it up to put it back where it belonged. When she descended the stairs and went straight into the kitchen, her cat was not happy to see her. If he could speak English, she felt certain by the loud hisses that he would be giving her a right proper telling off. He wasn't even happy when she fed him.
She felt at a loss as to what to do next. As tempting as it was to go straight back to Scotland just to poke Fenrir in the chest and call him an idiot, she knew she couldn't do that. Logically, she understood that he wasn't rejecting her. Not really. It was hard in the heat of the moment when he was pushing her away and running not to take his actions personally. Hours later after she'd had time to dissect every second of the encounter, she knew he wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him. His was a preemptive rejection, a rejection of her before she could reject him. There was enough emotional damage in him that he wanted to run to prevent her from seeing it. Little did he realize running away had already shown her he didn't believe he was good enough. Her heart clenched every time she thought about what he said to her in the greenhouse when he wiped the mud from her face.
If Fenrir's feelings for her weren't strong and real, he could've easily seduced her without care. There'd been enough men in her past who wanted nothing more than sex that she wouldn't have been surprised. The very fact that he was respectful of boundaries and didn't want to cross them impressed upon her that he wasn't like the other men. He saw something in her that they didn't. That should've been a comfort, but it wasn't. She was still frustrated that he would rather run away from her than have a conversation. Even if it was awkward and embarrassing, wasn't it better to get it all out in the open than to ignore it like it didn't exist? She knew she had to content herself with the very real possibility that he wouldn't want to come near her again. Respect and honor and nobility and all that other rubbish could get in the way.
Solving the mystery of 'Operation Moonlight' was even more important. A stubborn desire to prove she was right was usually enough motivation for Hermione to push through. Now, it was personal. She would keep searching for answers until she found them or died in the attempt. The sickening feeling that that was even a possibility was quickly pushed away when it entered her mind. If she gave in to all of the reasons why she shouldn't keep searching, she would only regret it later. He deserved answers. Selfishly, she hoped that by providing them, perhaps they could move forward together. She knew it was madness to have the feelings for the man that she did, but she didn't care. That was a problem for another day.
She understood that the logical, safe response to receiving the message with Lyall Lupin's address on it was to simply ignore it. There were numerous warning signs that she would be walking into a trap if she even thought about going to the address. Everything about how the list was stolen and then the address mysteriously appeared on her desk was suspicious. If she had been an outsider just now looking at the facts, she would've screamed at the top of her lungs that she shouldn't go. For whatever reason, Hermione couldn't ignore the instinct she felt in the depths of her guts that she had to go there. It was illogical, possibly even dangerous, but she knew she had to follow the lead. Beyond being the only one she currently had, she had a feeling that Lyall was the key to blowing the whole mystery wide open.
Perhaps it was for the best that Fenrir's behavior the night before pushed her to run back home. If he knew what she was planning, he would've stopped at nothing to keep her safely locked away. There was a history between the two men that wasn't good. She only knew bits and pieces of it. Her experience working in the Ministry taught her that she couldn't trust everything she used to believe. Lies and deceptions ran rampant through the Ministry of Magic.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Hermione stepped into her back garden, thought about the address on the parchment, and Disapparated. It was always tricky to Apparate to a place one had never been before using only an address. Even the most experienced wizards and witches out there were prone to mistakes. Nobody, unfortunately, was perfect. When the squeezing ended and she felt her feet land on solid ground, she didn't expect to see the charming stone house a few meters away. The number painted on the side matched the address on the scroll. If she'd made a big mistake and was about to step right into a trap, she would know soon enough.
With her hand in her pocket holding tightly to the end of her wand, she approached the front door with a great deal of caution. She hoped it wouldn't come down to a fight. Not only was she out of practice, she had never been the best duelist. Without Harry's generous offer of the Felix Felicis during her sixth year, she would've been injured or worse during the horrible night that Headmaster Dumbledore was killed. Several of the curses from the Death Eaters nearly hit her and once she was just a breath away from being attacked by Fenrir himself. To be honest, when she thought back on all of the moments during the war when she had been forced to fight, she was often surprised she'd survived at all. So much of it seemed to be nothing more than pure dumb luck. Drawing on the nearly endless well of courage that all Gryffindors seemed to possess, she took a deep breath before knocking on the front door.
She could see Remus in his father the moment he appeared. Their eyes were different, but he looked so much like an older version of her old professor that Hermione felt her eyes well up with hot tears. It was damned unfair that Remus would never get to live to be the same age as his father, never get to grow old, or see his son grow up.
Lyall Lupin wasn't expecting company. Just the confused expression on his face alone told Hermione that. Some of the fear that she was walking straight into a trap began to dissipate. Her heart-rate started to slow as well. Maybe she really was given a helpful clue by whomever dropped the scroll off on her desk.
"I apologize for showing up unannounced, Mr. Lupin, but I'm…"
"Hermione Granger. I recognize you from the newspaper. Please come inside."
While it was always possible that she would regret taking that first step into his home, she did it anyway. Without knowing all of the details of the past or how she was given his address, she didn't feel comfortable standing outside to speak where anyone could witness. Nor did she like the idea of forcing the older man to stand in the chilly December air either. She followed him into a cozy, warm kitchen where he immediately began to fill up a copper kettle with water.
"I've followed your work in the Ministry for some time now, Miss Granger, especially with all that you've done for werewolves. It's a damned shame what that wretched woman Umbridge did to them with all of those laws and restrictions. Without them maybe my son…"
Whatever he was going to say about Remus was cut off abruptly. She didn't want to push him in what was clearly an emotional moment. Death of a loved one, especially when they were far too young to die, was never easy. Losing her parents unexpectedly at the same time nearly broke her spirit right after the war. Just when she thought that the needless death would finally be over, they were killed in a routine, almost boring automobile collision. If losing her parents was that difficult, how much worse was it for someone to lose their child? She hoped she never had to learn that lesson firsthand.
"Remus was one of the best professors I've ever had, Mr. Lupin. I admired him greatly. He and his wife were both very special to me. I'm very sorry for your loss."
"Thank you, dearie, but I'm afraid I lost my son a long time before he passed."
Lyall's shoulders slumped. She'd learned the lesson after meeting her Muggle neighbor Margaret that sometimes when a lonely person who rarely got visitors was so fortunate enough to have someone to talk to, they often said more than they intended. Embarrassed, the wizard didn't say anything else as he finished brewing the pot of tea. Hermione wasn't going to push. Only when he brought the teapot over to the kitchen table and sat down across from his unexpected guest did he speak again.
"My Remus deserved a lot more than what he got in his life, I'm afraid. If I could go back in time to make changes, you'd better believe I would in a heartbeat. Even if it meant I wasn't standing here today, I'd do it. His life was stolen from him when he was just a little tyke. It was all my fault. If I hadn't gotten caught up in that mess with the Ministry, none of that would've happened. Maybe he'd still be alive and able to raise his son himself. Maybe we wouldn't have lost his mother either. So much would've been different."
He sighed again, his sadness unmistakable. Recognizing the guilt he felt, she hoped selfishly that it would mean he would be more likely to help her uncover what she wanted to know about 'Operation Moonlight'. If he was one of the officials involved in its inception, he would know all about it. Deciding that it was now or never, she rallied her courage again.
"Mr. Lupin, the reason I came today is because I understand that many years ago you were involved in a Ministry program called 'Operation Moonlight'."
His eyes widened at the mention of the name. Any hope that he might have had of denying he knew of its existence was dashed. No one looked that nervous or that bothered by something they'd never heard about. Ignoring the worry that she was pressing too hard too quickly, Hermione continued.
"I first was made aware of this program after I was given custody of dozens of old cartons filled with the files of dead werewolves. Naturally, this piqued my curiosity. Unfortunately, I have been unable to find out anything about this program other than the fact that you were one of the officials involved in it during the late fifties and early sixties."
"I won't deny it. Yes, I was. It was the biggest mistake of my life. Every single day I wish I could go back in time to the moment I was invited to be a part of it and spit in the eye of the wizard who asked. Nothing in my life went right after that. Nothing."
There was an excitement that Hermione felt all the way in her gut. She tried to conceal it from the wizard, of course. His trembling hands alone were enough to prove he was telling the truth of his regret. Was it possible that she was finally going to get some answers? She tried not to get her hopes up, but it was difficult. A fantasy of finally being able to stand in front of Fenrir and prove to him that he wasn't the monster he claimed to be took root in her mind. The danger and intrigue surrounding her quest for the truth would be worth it if that would only come true.
"I shouldn't say anything about it. Most of the ones involved are now dead anyway. I meant what I said when I told you I've been following your work for some time now. I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you've done for werewolves. Wish I'd done the same when I was younger, but I didn't think they were anything but dangerous animals who didn't deserve to live until my son was bit and I learned the truth of it. They're not animals at all. They are just like you and me except for when the moon is full."
Lyall paused to refill his cup. Seeing that hers was nearly empty, he leaned across the table to do the same for Hermione. She tried not to smile, tried not to bounce in her chair. When she had her answers and was safely away from his home and where he could see, she would celebrate. Until then, she had to remain as calm and professional as possible and pretend she didn't have a personal stake in the information he provided.
"'Operation Moonlight' is an abomination. It still gives me nightmares when I think about it. We weren't as successful as we hoped we would be. That's all that saved us. If we achieved the results we dreamed of, this world would be a lot more dangerous than it is now. When you get back to the Ministry, there's a file in the Archives you need to see. It has all of the information to back up what I'm about to tell you and the proof you'll need to get the light to finally shine in the dark places. Should've been done decades ago."
"I've been in the Ministry Archives. Unfortunately, the file for 'Operation Moonlight' was nearly empty and since I read it, it's been misplaced."
A wide smile appeared on his wrinkled face knocking off at least thirty years. He reminded her so much of Remus in that second she couldn't help but smile back.
"That's why I hid the files in another file. One that would never be found unless someone knew exactly where to look and knew the right spell to reveal the truth."
"A hidden file?"
"Yes. When you get back to the Ministry, request the file for the 1612 goblin rebellion in Hogsmeade. No one ever requests to view the files for the numerous goblin rebellions because I'm ashamed to admit that they just don't care. If there's not a layer of dust thicker than the side of a galleon on that file, I'd be amazed. I hid the real files in there. You have to speak a password to expand them."
"What's the password?"
"Remus."
He cleared his throat, embarrassment creeping back.
"Now some of the bastards involved in 'Operation Moonlight' would claim that the whole program began as some sort of altruistic attempt to cure lycanthropy. That's complete horse shite and you shouldn't believe a word of it. They knew what they were doing when they started. I wasn't there in the beginning. I came in a few years later, but I know that's all tosh. No one wanted to cure anything. They wanted to use the poor bastards for their own aims."
"Use them? How?"
"We, because I'm afraid I have to include myself in all of this, wanted to control them. Wanted to have an army of werewolves who would do our bidding. There's so much ignorance surrounding werewolves that the fear alone would be powerful enough to make anyone who might want to oppose us or the Ministry too scared to try. What's more effective at keeping someone from refusing to do what you want them to - killing them or threatening to have a werewolf bite their children? Usually the threat was enough. Send a werewolf to scratch at the window of their child's bedroom for a night and they'd never refuse again. Sometimes a threat wasn't enough and a child had to actually be bitten. We are all going to burn in hell for what we did."
Hermione remembered the conversation she had with Robert weeks earlier when he mentioned the Ministry propaganda about werewolves wanting to create their own army of werewolf children. It was no wonder that the ignorant people who read their approved newspapers believed the lies. Especially when it seemed as if Lyall was admitting they could control at least some werewolves to bite children when ordered. She felt a chill run up her spine. How many children was Fenrir forced to bite? He was the one that was so infamous for claiming he wanted to outnumber the wizards by biting all of their children. There were countless stories about him and his fellow werewolves stealing children during both war and peace times. She felt sick to her stomach.
"You said that you had files of dead werewolves?"
"Yes, sir. How did they die? Nothing in their files made much sense."
"That's because we were trying to hide what we were doing even as we pretended we weren't. I'm sure I know exactly what the files are that you have. Just lists of dates and abbreviations that don't make much sense?"
She nodded.
"That was to cover our arses. If anyone ever heard about 'Operation Moonlight' who didn't need to know about it, we could show them those files and claim it was something innocent. That's why I hid the real files before I left the Ministry twenty years ago. The others wanted them destroyed, but my guilt wouldn't allow me to do it. If that information ever got out, a lot of very powerful and important people would be in a great deal of trouble. I made copies of the originals and hid the originals. They destroyed the copies never knowing there was more."
"But how did they die? There were so many of them. How was that not noticed?"
"Do you know how many people, even supposedly loving parents, completely abandon their loved ones after they've been bitten by a werewolf? It's disgusting."
Unfortunately, she knew that all too well. She thought of the werewolf couple she knew who had to fight to be a family after they found an abandoned child no longer wanted because of their affliction. It was something she was certain she would never understand. How could anyone abandon the ones they love when they were scared and needed them the most? Even with all of the education available, there were still some that lived in the ignorance of the past. It was enough to make anyone sick.
"It wasn't hard to find the werewolves that were alone in the world. In fact, it was all too bloody easy. We had more than we knew what to do with. Maybe that's why we were so careless in the beginning. If one died under the testing, it didn't matter. We had a dozen more that could take their place. No one ever came looking for them. They were unwanted, disposable."
"What was the testing? I found a log that was partially smudged. All I could read were the letters 's-e-r'. Was it a serum?"
"Yes. A horrible serum that killed just about everyone we tested it on. All but one, the lucky bastard."
"Fenrir Greyback."
His smile turned cold. There was an anger and a bitterness behind it that made Hermione nervous. She wondered if it had been a mistake to bring him up. Their shared past was not a happy one.
"You have done your research, Miss Granger. Yes, Greyback was the only one who survived those initial experiments. None of the others lasted long, but for some reason we never fully understood, he only grew stronger."
She tried to ignore the rising nervousness she felt the more he spoke about Fenrir. Was she just feeling guilty because of her close relationship with the werewolf who attacked the man's son? No doubt there was an anger that would never fully go away where Fenrir was concerned. She hoped that she was able to hide what she was thinking from the expression on her face. When she was most nervous, she struggled with hiding her thoughts.
"Some assumed it had to do with the blood he got from his mother. I never met her. Greyback and I were about the same age but I didn't remember him from Hogwarts. He was so different by the time I met him. But his mother was from somewhere foreign. We thought maybe that was why he was stronger. Another theory was he must've survived some terrible childhood disease that made his immune system stronger. These were really all just wild theories. We never were able to know for certain."
"What did the serum do exactly?"
"It was designed to increase a werewolf's strength. I know, it sounds like a terrible idea. Why would we intentionally make an already dangerous creature even more dangerous? The answer is simple. Pure hubris. We believed that it wouldn't matter how strong the werewolves were if we controlled them. In fact, we believed very strongly that giving them unnatural strength on top of what they already possessed would only make them more frightening to the ones we used to use them against. It also slowed down his aging process considerably. Almost paused it entirely. If he hadn't been killed in the war, he would've outlived us all."
Everything he said sounded like it came out of a terrible science fiction novel. What were they playing at? The thought of human experimentation had always turned Hermione's stomach. To know that the man across the table from her was directly responsible for experimenting on dozens of innocent werewolves until they died was sickening. She could understand him feeling regret for his past actions, but he and every other person involved in 'Operation Moonlight' deserved life in Azkaban.
"When we came to the conclusion that we weren't going to be able to replicate the same results with the other werewolves that we had with Greyback, the focus of our efforts turned entirely on him. Did you ever meet the fiend when he was alive?"
She nodded her head, not trusting herself to speak in that moment. What would the man think if he found out she'd been in the "fiend's" bed just the night before?
"Then you must've noticed he's larger than all of the other werewolves. In pictures taken of him at the beginning of his involvement in the program, he was still as tall, but much leaner and thinner. Lycanthropy increases a sufferer's metabolism to a very high level. I remember my Hope used to get so frustrated with Remus when he was growing up because of the sheer amount of food he could tuck away at one time. Used to call him her 'personal plague of locusts'. All in good humor, naturally. She thought it was funny. I suppose if a werewolf ate nothing but a gallon of ice cream every day, they might eventually be able to gain weight, but there's a reason why you've never seen an overweight werewolf. They just don't exist. They can't exist. The serum we tested on Greyback increased his muscle mass considerably. Made him stronger. More terrifying.
"He would've been an example of our program being a success, but we struggled to control him. He had a mind and a will of his own. Before the other werewolves died, many of them would get to a place where they were easily led around like mindless… what do they call those not alive but not really dead creatures?"
"Zombies?"
"Yes, exactly. They would do exactly as they were told, but the problem was they were generally too weak to do anything at all. There was no way we could use them to attack our enemies in that state. They were easily defeated with just a simple stunner. But Greyback was special. We had to use a combination of potions and an Imperius curse to have him do what we wished. Even that was only temporary. Eventually the potions wore off and he fought the Imperius like hell. Each had to be continuously reapplied."
Hermione was thankful she hadn't taken the time to make herself breakfast that morning. Even the tea wasn't sitting well in her stomach. Every word Lyall said made her feel sicker. She knew it was naïve to believe that every person in the world was good all the time and didn't have evil purposes, but to hear about a group of witches and wizards in her Ministry that willfully tortured and killed werewolves to suit their own nefarious agenda was hard to swallow. What else had they done to Fenrir in the name of progress? She was afraid to learn.
"We were cruel to the man. I recognize that now. At the time, I still believed that werewolves were subhuman, that all of their humanity was stripped away the moment they were bitten. I suppose I can understand in a way why so many families abandoned their loved ones. In their minds, they were already dead. Just because they were wandering around in a body that for most of the month looked like their loved one didn't mean they were still alive. It's a terribly backward and primitive way to look at things, but I can admit that I at least understand the reasoning."
"When did you stop believing they were subhuman?"
"The moment I witnessed my little boy transform into a werewolf the first time."
Tears rolled down the man's cheeks as he recalled what had to have been a traumatic moment in both his and Remus' life. Much of the worry and concern Hermione had about Lyall softened. She didn't feel as frightened to be there in his kitchen as perhaps she should've been.
"The biggest regret of my life was what happened to my son. That was the turning point for me. Before Remus was bitten, I would've been happy to see all of the werewolves rounded up and executed simply for the crime of existing. I didn't treat Greyback like a human being and that mistake was what came back to haunt me. There's an official report filed somewhere in the Ministry explaining what happened between Greyback and me, but I'm sure you've been around the Ministry long enough to understand that the official report is rarely the truth."
"That's a lesson I've been learning."
"Yes, well, whatever you hear outside of this room about what transpired is likely a lie. I'm not sure that Greyback would remember the facts even if he was still alive. I mentioned earlier that we kept him somewhat controlled with a mixture of potions and the Imperius Curse, but that didn't always work. When the potions would start to wear off, it was easier for him to fight the Imperius Curse. Have you ever been subjected to it, Miss Granger?"
She nodded, remembering the disconcerting Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson she once had with Barty Crouch Jr masquerading as Mad-Eye Moody. It was an experience she wouldn't likely forget. Harry was one of the few who was able to fight the curse off successfully. She'd been embarrassed by how poorly she'd been able to when it was her turn.
"Greyback fought it and won. He warned me once in a moment of lucidity that the first time he ever caught me alone would be the last moment I was alive. It was easy for me to laugh it off. I was so arrogant when I was younger. But the moment finally happened. He'd been sent off on a mission to torment a target. The fiend was a talented actor. None of us suspected that he wasn't under our control. Pretending that he was going to do as he was told, instead he snuck off to my house to wait for me to return home from work.
"I deserved to be killed that night. If you knew all that we did in that program, you would agree. Most of it I've tried to forget, but the file I told you about has every disgusting detail. You'll learn that I was every bit the monster I accused werewolves of being. Greyback was supposed to be in another part of the country. The Imperius Curse is tricky on a werewolf. When they're not transformed, it's easy enough. They can still fight it if they have the willpower, but once they transform, it's harder. Evidently, he was able to fight it off enough that he could find my house instead of the house he was assigned."
Lyall needed to take a deep breath before he could continue. The tears were long gone, replaced with shame and bitterness. His right hand was clenched in his fist on top of the table.
"He was supposed to be giving a warning to a witch in the International Confederation of Wizards. She hadn't been voting the way some of our benefactors felt that she should. The plan was to put her small boy in enough danger that she recognized she had to do what she was told. There were at least three wizards waiting nearby to ensure that Greyback was only able to threaten. We saved the actual biting for at least the third or fourth visit. Most never needed a second to comply with our demands. But, he wasn't where he was supposed to be. He was waiting outside my bedroom window for the moon to rise."
"Your bedroom window?"
"Yes, mine. It was the middle of summer. Days were longer. I worked late at the office that evening. There was always a mountain of paperwork to fill out when we sent one of our werewolves on an assignment. That's something else you will find in the file. I included a copy of every single mission I could find. You'll see for yourself how depraved and disgusting we were. Remus fell asleep in my bedroom waiting for me to come home. When I think what might have happened to him if I hadn't worked so late…"
He slammed his fist down on the table, shaking the empty teacups in their saucers.
"I might have been able to save him from being bitten. When Greyback transformed, he was less able to fight the Imperius Curse. He knew that he was ordered to climb into a bedroom to bite a little boy. So he did just that. Didn't matter that it was the wrong boy. He did exactly as he was ordered. When I heard Remus' screams, I was almost too late. Only sheer will gave me the necessary strength to fight the monster off of my son before he killed him. He slinked off into the night to lick his wounds while I had to rush my little Remus to St. Mungo's."
"I'm very sorry that happened to your family."
"Thank you, but it was my fault. I should've been the one who was bitten. Because of my crimes, my son's life was ruined. He didn't deserve it. Not one bit of it. It's the biggest regret of my entire life. It's why my relationship with him was nearly non-existent once we didn't have his mother to bring us together. I couldn't look him in the eye."
There wasn't much else left to discuss after he described the incident that turned his son into a werewolf. Clearly distraught and exhausted from being so honest, she knew that he needed a break from her presence. Lyall needed to be alone to rest. After thanking him again for telling her about the missing files and for speaking to her even though she dropped by unannounced, Hermione returned to her empty house.
She spent the rest of the day trying to fully digest all that she'd learned. Afraid that she would forget it all, she wrote down everything she could remember from their discussion. The reminder that the files she needed to answer her remaining questions still existed in the Ministry Archives encouraged her when she struggled with a detail she'd been told. If Lyall was telling the truth, and she had no reason to doubt he was, the hidden 'Operation Moonlight' file would blow the truth out in the open. She was nervous to know what else she would find.
When darkness fell, Hermione could feel Fenrir's presence again. Just as he'd done all the weeks before she invited him inside her home, he returned to lean up against her fence in her back garden. Staring at him through her kitchen window, she felt both annoyed and pleased that he was there. No matter how much she wanted to shake him and maybe even hex him a little, she was glad that he wasn't completely rejecting her… not yet at least.
Why was he there? The Muggle was dead. There was no longer a threat that he would break into her house again. It was freezing outside. The weather reports all claimed it was going to snow. She'd been inside his warm house. Why would he spend another night standing outside watching her house?
He had only been there a few minutes when she lost the rest of her patience for the frustrating man. Ripping open the kitchen door, she looked him right in the eye and turned back. She felt him enter after she was only a few steps in. He didn't waste any time. At the sound of the kitchen door clicking shut, Hermione spun around to say something.
Whatever she was going to say was cut off by the fervent press of his hungry lips. No longer shy to touch her body, his hands went straight for her arse. He tugged her legs up to wrap around his waist. Somehow he was able to carry her up the stairs without ever removing his lips from hers.