Location: Forest, McKinnon’s Farm Time: 21st of February Status: Closed, for @inconsolcble
The first time Edgar had properly talked to the young Mister Lupin, it had been down here, in the forest near the McKinnon Farm.
Lupin’s introduction to the Order had been a brief but impressive one. Entering the meetings room, he’d found his spot next to James who’d put an arm around his shoulders declaring him an old friend, and then he had made his suggestion: let wild werewolves stay in this forest. Refugees, close to the farm, safe from themselves and the world hungry to mistreat them. The discussion that had followed had been one of the longest and most intense ones Edgar had ever witnessed since joining the Order. And he’d joined the Order so long ago...
He had barely argued along. He’d stood in the back, listening attentively to write it all down later on, and kept his gaze on the new member. Lupin had looked so frail and weary, young and worn at the same time, and yet he’d uttered and explained his suggestions without fear or hesitation, and Edgar had felt his chest swell with pride.
It had deflated as though perforated by a silver bullet when James had revealed the secret a week ago. Not because Edgar suddenly no longer thought Lupin brave and forward-thinking for his suggestion, not because he was shocked like some members by the news (in a way he’d known for quite some time, hadn’t he?) but because he realised that without his digging, this might’ve never happened. Had he not been so eager to solve the mystery of Lupin’s injuries, Mary would’ve never gone to talk to Emmeline and James, and it would’ve never gotten that far. Was this his fault? And his lungs exhaled a brusque breath filled with guilt.
The truth had had to come out eventually, after all, no? But Edgar had hoped Lupin would come forward himself after receiving Edgar’s thermos and message -- a tentative invitation to come talk to him. Not that the truth would come out of Lupin’s best friend’s mouth. Not on the day of a mission. Not right before the same best friend gave his life for that mission.
After waking up from his injuries, Edgar had learnt of what had happened that night of the 14th, and each new information made his hands cramp tighter. To hear that Lupin had disappeared, well, that was quite frankly an information that didn’t really manage to preoccupy him quite as much. He just prepared another thermos filled with hot chocolate and sent it to Lupin, trusting his owl would find the way, but this time it came without a message.
Only after they had gone looking for Ainsley, Edgar had found the time and patience to think about Lupin again. About the first time he’d entered the meetings room. What were the werewolves in the forest by the McKinnon Farm to think now? Had they already heard that the one who had gotten them there, who had fought for their safety, was now gone? Possibly in danger -- not by any outside forces but by the very same people who were granting them refuge?
Hence, on the 21st, Edgar decided to go down to the forest himself and inform them that even without Lupin here, he’d try to continue letting them stay here. And this time he would participate in the discussion, if he had to. Packed with tea, wrapped into his warm, gigantic and colourful winter coat, and with his left hand still in bandages, he walked through the forest, straight ahead and hoping the right words would come to him when they were needed. It was there, still on his way and at least fifteen minutes away from where the pack camped, that he saw a figure ahead of him. It wasn’t particularly familiar, but he recognised it instantly all the same.
“Mister Lupin?” He raised his hands, showing palms open that he was holding no wand. “Edgar Bones.”
