Mr. Lupin had been perfectly correct, thank you very much, and they were going to find out the hard way. It didn't matter what they said about his temper. It didn't matter they felt the overly obnoxious need to expel him from the courtroom. He was right.

Lyall Lupin's work had dealt with dark creatures for years. He had been named an expert in Non-Human Spiritus Apparitions. He had even met his wife while saving her from a boggart and had been consulted for his expertise in Defense Against the Dark Arts multiple times in the past in this very court. But he didn't know what he was talking about. He was just a stupid boy crying wolf.

The lift clanked to a stop, the doors swinging open and groups of memos whizzing above Lyall's head. He grunted, swatting at one that he had to dodge. He stepped off the lift, into the always bustling lobby, and by the time his second foot landed on the polished floor, the lift was full of witches and wizards behind him.

He sighed in annoyance.

The crowds were pushing towards the line of floo connections as many Ministry workers moved to leave for home or rushed to avoid being late to work. Of course, it was shift change. The clamor of the crowd's conversation echoed in his head so that he couldn't hear their words. But Greyback's insistence echoed in his ears, rekindling his temper.

A muggle tramp. A homeless man.

There was no way that was true, and they would learn.

Lyall Lupin knew of course. He saw it the minute the man was brought into the courtroom for questioning. He knew what the man was even if the others were blind to it. Fenrir Greyback was a werewolf.

There was a slight group around each hearth. Lyall paid this no mind, however. Although the crowds had annoyed him, this was fairly normal. The people disappeared easily with the green flames to navigate their way to their own personal fireplaces, and soon it was Lyall's turn. He watched the black stone disappear as he spoke the name of his destination.

"You're home early," Hope said as he stepped out onto the living room rug. It was worn, but well kempt, matching the rest of their small house. Hope set her book down on the couch next to her. The book usually sat on the side table, but it was moved out of the way to accommodate the now dying Christmas tree. Lyall smiled at his wife. "Did something go wrong with the hearings today?"

"There were no hearings today, we just brought in a few supposed supporters of You-Know-Who for questioning."

"Oh," Hope said. She glanced at Lyall, frowning at the look that crossed his face. "I suppose that should be even worse..." She trailed off as he didn't move to respond. "What happened today?" Hope moved towards Lyall, resting her hands on his shoulders gently. He gazed down at her.

He scoffed. "Stupidity is all, and they are going to figure it out soon enough." She frowned again. "They refused to listen to my warnings and decided to kick me out of court instead."

"They expelled you?"

Lyall sighed and nodded. He continued on to explain that the particular suspect, Fenrir Greyback, had been captured residing with a werewolf pack that had been known followers of You-Know-Who. He had been possible connected to the death of two children, and the ministry loves questionings. However, during all of the questioning, well at least the part he had been allowed to witness, Greyback had adamantly denied being a werewolf himself. Although this was fairly easy to test, and, in Lyall's opinion, clear to see by his characteristics, the court had believed him. Lyall had gone on to suggest they keep him in custody until the next full moon, considering it was only the next night, but they continued to ignore him.

"They kicked you out for that?" Hope asked.

"Not exactly..." He trailed off. "I might have lost my temper a little..."

Hope raised a single eyebrow. "What did you say?"

"...they're soulless, evil, deserving nothing but death!"

Lyall blinked away the words ringing in his ears. "I simply told them my opinion." Hope gave him a half smile. "I just hope they don't get themselves killed," Lyall continued. She nodded. "Or worse, turned."

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Rain pounded against the windows as Lyall stepped out on the living room rug that evening. February was not being kind to them and it was cold in the house, with the only the heat of the fireplace behind him. He spelled the ash off the rug, and for a moment, the silence disturbed him, until his gaze fell upon his sleeping wife. She was curled up on the sofa, one of her handmade blankets pulled tight against her.

Lyall smiled. How could he have been lucky enough to have someone as gentle as Hope?

He moved around her to let her continue sleep, moving to hang his coat and take off his shoes. It was darker than it should have been for that time in the evening, but the occasional flash of lightening guided him as he moved. The coat rack was in the front hall, an odd place or it in his opinion, but muggles were used to entering through the front door. His house was marked by muggle culture. You could tell Hope lived here, the way you could tell when a mouse lived in your pantry or a stray cat curled up under your porch. Well except if the mouse brought food instead of taking it and the cat cared for your children instead of hissing at them. Lyall shook his head, slipping his shoes off and tucking them under the small bench of the hall tree.

"Daddy?"

Lyall nearly jumped out of his skin. He glanced towards the stairs, where his four-year-old son stood. Remus was still and stiff as a board. Lyall sighed inwardly, but smiled at the boy.

"Come here buddy, I thought you were asleep," He said, moving towards the child and gesturing for him to come.

Remus hurried to his side, and Lyall scooped him up. "The sky is loud," Remus muttered, burying his face into his father's chest. Lyall smiled over his head. The boy still didn't call it thunder.

"How long has Mum been asleep? Have you eaten dinner?" It was late, but he always asked. The rain had always helped Hope sleep, just as much as it unsettled her boy.

Remus nodded.

Lyall glanced at the clock.

"Let's get ready for bed then why don't we?"

Remus nodded again.

Lyall moved towards the stairs, carrying his son towards his room. The boy flinched with every flash of lightening and boom of thunder. He flinched when his father set him down, his bare feet settling on the cold hardwood. He was already in his pajamas. Hope had probably let him stay in them all day due to the terrible weather and relatively cold house.

Lyall didn't say a word as he re-tucked the covers of the boy's small bed, and cast a light heating charm on the sheets. He smiled. Charms had always been one of his secondary talents. He always enjoyed how much they could benefit the ones you cared about. He then cast a charm to relight the nightlight. Although Remus didn't sleep every night with it anymore, his father knew he'd want it tonight.

He turned around to where Remus was still standing. The young boy had yet to move, standing right where his father had set him, his thumb in his mouth. Lyall picked him back up, gently removing Remus' thumb from his mouth. As much as it seemed to comfort him, it was not a good habit. He placed the boy in bed, tucking the blankets up around him. Lyall leaned down, kissing Remus on the forehead and whispering goodnight. He could barely hear the muttered response over the pounding of the rain.

His wife was slightly harder to carry to bed than his son, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. The peaceful look on her face as she slept through the storm was worth every pain that shot through his bad knee. She was also in her pajamas, a sweater thrown over them, so he put her directly to bed as well, joining her minutes later dressed for bed himself.

The rain continued late into the night, the lightening flashing across the sky and the thunder booming in response. Lyall turned restlessly as the yells of that day in the courtroom after Christmas echoed in his dreams. His tossed as the headlines of the Daily Prophet flashed before his tight closed eyes. Suspect Fenrir Greyback Escapes, Insider Job? Thunder cracked again, ringing like the house was caving in. He rolled over, pulling the blanket around him tighter.

At least he thought it was thunder.

It sounded loud, like the lightening had fell a tree in the woods behind the house.

At least it sounded like loud thunder.

Until he heard the scream.

Lyall Lupin couldn't remember running faster in his life. He never ran that fast from a bully. Or after a kid being bullied. He never ran that fast for his wife. Or after a ghoul or a boggart. He never ran that fast when his cousins challenged him as a child. He had never run that fast in his life, but before he knew it, he was standing in the door to his only son's bedroom, with his wife at his shoulder.

Spells and curses flew from his wand faster than he was able to process what they were, and the wolf careened out the whole it had created where Remus's window used to be before he could process how it had gotten in.

Blood pounded in his ears in a deafening match to the red that covered the room. The rush was so loud, and the night-chilled room so hot, even his wife's screaming fell on deaf ears.

Mr. Lupin had been perfectly correct, thank you very much, and they had found out the hard way.