Blood of the Moon {Remus Lupin}

Chapter 21

Auriga hated the Auror Office so much. It was loud, messy and just downright disgusting. Go to St Mungo's to fix the gash in your leg, not the barely trained first-aider in the office. You're dripping blood everywhere! "Excuse me?" she asked a nearby wizard, who immediately stopped throwing his miniature quaffle in the air. "Could you tell me where Auror Shacklebolt is, please?"

"Scrimgeour's office," he said, pointing to a door at the end of the room. Auriga nodded her thanks, took a deep breath, and set off, her chin held high. Why did they all have to throw things around? Couldn't they just get on with their jobs like they were supposed to? She finally reached Scrimgeour's office, whose door was open wide, and knocked.

"Malfoy," Scrimgeour said, looking surprised at her appearance. She vaguely recognised him - perhaps he'd been to one of their New Year's balls? He certainly knew her. "Do come in - I believe you're on the Black case?"

"Yes, sir," Auriga said, eyeing Shacklebolt sat down at the other side of the desk. "I just came to check the progress - I have another conference with the French Minister tomorrow afternoon."

"We aren't any closer, I'm afraid," Shacklebolt said, frowning.

"How?" Auriga asked, confused. "You've got the French on lookout, the Americans helping us, all of your lot working on it! It's been two months. Surely he'd have made an effort to get into Hogwarts by now? Or you'd have been tailing Potter and seen him?"

Shacklebolt shook his head. "I'm afraid not. We've not got any leads."

"Then what am I supposed to tell the French?" Auriga challenged. "I've got every resource from other countries that you could possibly ask for. I've negotiated alternative trade after you messed up the border lock down. And you still can't find him? Do you realise how stupid this makes me look? How it makes our country look?"

"All due respect, Miss Malfoy," Shacklebolt said, rising from his seat. "But this isn't about you looking stupid. We need to catch Black before he does some serious damage."

"I quite agree, Kingsley," Scrimgeour said. "But there is a way to resolve this - perhaps you could accompany Miss Malfoy to her conference?"

"Of course, Sir," said Shacklebolt, looking bitter. Great, Auriga thought, one more embarrassment to worry about.

"I've got a meeting with Cresswell, Gringotts, and the Minister in an hour," Auriga said, "I'm sure that'll have something useful we can distract them with-"

"Distract them?" Shacklebolt asked with a frown. Brilliant, he'd never even negotiated before.

"The stocks were looking good this morning," Auriga explained, "As long as we show them that we're making progress on the economic front, they won't focus too much on the investigative front. And seeing as it's going so poorly, that's exactly what we want. It's about maintaining good relations."

Shacklebolt nodded slowly, clearly not understanding. "Well, I see you'll manage it just fine," Scrimgeour said and Auriga smiled.

"Yes, Mr Scrimgeour," she said, turning back to Shacklebolt, "I'll meet you here at eleven tomorrow. Don't forget your passport, and I'll sort out a Diplomatic Travel Licence for you."

*****

"Well I think that went rather well," Auriga said to a scowling Shacklebolt as they left the all-too-familiar conference room in Paris. "Don't you?"

"I still don't think Black will try and make his way across the border," he said, his brow furrowed and his eyes trained on the ground in front of him.

"Well, they do," Auriga said as they walked through the main lobby area and out into the streets of Paris. "And that's what's important. We don't want to make his life easy."

"Of course-" Shacklebolt began, but Auriga interrupted.

"I usually disapparate from just down here," she said. "Are you coming, or will you stay a while?"

If at all possible, Shacklebolt scowled even more. "Yes, I'm coming." Auriga nodded and turned on the spot, disapparating to a side street in Nice that had a set of double doors next to a skip. Moments later there was a crack, and Shacklebolt appeared next to her.

"Well, come on then," Auriga said impatiently, already stepping inside the building and heading over to a queue. She heard Shacklebolt huff and then follow behind her. What was his problem? She was the one that had been lumped with some brainless Auror to drag through the rather aggressive conference. He hadn't been too bad, mostly quiet. But when he did speak, he didn't stammer on his words or anything - quite impressive for a newcomer.

"Bonjour," said the TransFloo worker with a smile. She wore her hair in a low bun, and had navy-blue robes on. "Are you travelling together?"

"Yes, Manchester, England please," Auriga said, handing over her passport, wand and Diplomatic Travel Licence. Shacklebolt did the same.

The woman flicked through and checked their identities, before weighing their wands. Auriga confirmed the details of hers and the woman stamped her passport. "And Kingsley Shacklebolt, fourteen inches, alder wood, phoenix feather core, swishy flexibility?"

"Fourteen inches, alder wood, phoenix feather core, swishy flexibility," Auriga translated for him.

"Wee," said Shacklebolt. Auriga felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. Why would you send someone who barely spoke a word of French to represent the Ministry in France?

The woman smiled awkwardly, and Auriga didn't blame her. "First grate on the right, just through there," she told them. Auriga took her things back and rushed off ahead of Shacklebolt, but he soon caught up to her in the queue. They waited without speaking, and soon went through the fireplace to Manchester separately. As soon as Auriga was out into the street, she disapparated home, with only a nod of goodbye to Shacklebolt. What a stressful afternoon.

*****

It had been three months since Black had escaped Azkaban, and the Aurors hadn't been any closer to catching him than they were the night he'd escaped. Auriga had been replying to almost endless owls from various countries that all thought they were at risk, either from economic collapse due to their lack of trade with the UK, or because somebody had seen a wizard that vaguely resembled Black. It had become her full time job, and she longed for the days when murtlaps crossing the border illegally had been her biggest worry.

Until today. Auriga had finally managed to meet up with her parents after months of travelling the globe and working late in the office. It was Halloween, and she was enjoying a nice glass of wine in their drawing room while she played chess with her father and her mother watched fondly. The gramophone had been playing a Celestina Warbeck album, her father's favourite. Halloween was always a particularly magical time for the wizarding world. A celebration of their identity, and their gift. Auriga would go as far as to say that it was better than Christmas.

But then that stupid house elf had come in with an urgent letter from the Ministry. Black's been sighted, it had said. He's broken into Hogwarts.