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Scars, Part 26
Rating: NC-17 overall
Pairings: Snape/Lupin, Ash/Tsubasa; also a little Theodore/Blaise, Dylan/Hermione, and Aric/Takeshi
Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts.
Disclaimer: Based on the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part. The Porvora is the invention of Yuichi Kumakura, and appears in volumes 2 and 3 of his "Jing: King of Bandits" manga. (I also used it in one of the earlier stories in this series, "Aftermaths".)
Warning: AU. This story contains a character from Half-Blood Prince, but does not follow the HBP storyline.
Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, Phoenix Rising, Aftermaths, The Revenant, Ash's Story, and Summer Vacation III.
Summary: Henry makes a breakthrough in his research and asks for Snape's advice; Erika runs into some trouble at work; Greyback and the Macnairs decide they need a hostage. The bulk of this chapter focuses on the OCs, but Snape and Lupin do put in an appearance.
Part 25
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Henry Bletchley had carefully examined every magical artifact found in the Irish ruins. The Aurors had even grudgingly given him access to the items deemed too dangerous to go on display at the museum--a sign of how desperate they must be to catch the killer, given Shacklebolt's distrust of him. He'd had to promise to conduct his research in private and consult with the Aurors before sharing his findings with anyone; Shacklebolt had not named anyone specifically, but Henry knew that he meant Imogen Macnair. Having no other choice, he had agreed, but he was a little annoyed and insulted that Shacklebolt seemed to think he had no common sense. He felt sorry for Imogen, it was true, and he didn't think that she was a murderer, but he wouldn't have shared potentially dangerous information about Dark artifacts with someone who was merely a casual acquaintance.
However, the precautions that Shacklebolt had imposed on him remained hypothetical so far, since he had found nothing useful relating to the investigation. There was one interesting artifact, a large, thin sheet of copper engraved with what appeared to be a map of Ireland, with jewels marking significant locations on the map. It was badly tarnished and dented and missing a chunk out of one corner, but a few residual traces of the original enchantment remained, enough to tell Henry that the Dark Prince had once used this map to keep watch over his domain, perhaps even track the movements of his servants. This was encouraging, because it supported his theory that the Prince had used a magical device to control his servants, but on the other hand, it brought him no closer to finding that device.
Henry spent most of each day testing the artifacts, trying to discover any hidden properties, and he stayed up late each night reading the notes taken by the archaeological team, as well as the runes translated by Master Tremayne and Theodore. They offered tantalizing hints that the Prince had kept strict control over his guards and servants, many of whom were magical creatures or constructs, but were infuriatingly vague as to how he had actually controlled them.
Having had no luck with the magical artifacts, Henry turned his attention to the non-magical items that had been found in the ruins. They had already been tested for magical auras, of course, but in very rare cases, the enchantment on an item could be disguised or set to remain dormant until a particular condition triggered it into action. There was only a slim chance that the other researchers had overlooked such an enchantment, but surely it couldn't hurt to check, when the only other alternative was to simply give up. His pride wouldn't allow him to admit defeat to Shacklebolt, and he didn't want to disappoint Erika, who was so determined to protect her werewolf brother.
The non-magical artifacts had been carelessly packed away into boxes for storage, having been deemed unimportant for the most part by the archaeologists whose main goal had been to unearth the unique magical items and spells that the Prince had created. Still, the non-magical items had been saved, perhaps to be used in a museum display someday.
Henry revised his opinion of the archaeological team upwards a few notches as he unpacked the boxes, and offered up a silent apology; he had been wrong to say they were careless. They might have regarded the non-magical artifacts as unimportant, but each item had been bagged, then labeled and methodically cataloged, with a notation as to when and where it had been found.
There were mundane, if slightly gaudy, items such as goblets and platters made of gold and silver; the Prince had been given to ostentatious displays of his wealth, it seemed, which was odd, since there had been no one other than his servants to admire them. As a paranoid recluse, the Prince had almost never invited guests into his tower.
There were also vases and furnishings, most of them broken into pieces, and scraps of velvet that might have come from a robe or tapestry. It was almost impossible to determine the original source now, but it didn't really matter, since Henry doubted that the Prince would have used a robe or tapestry as a control device. And since the control device would have to be something that he could have easily carried on his person, Henry also ruled out the vases, furnishings, plates, and goblets, and after a cursory examination, he carefully packed them away again.
Finally, he examined the items that held the most potential: pieces of jewelry that were valuable in the monetary sense, but useless to the archaeologists who had been intent upon making magical discoveries. There were rings, bracelets, torcs, necklaces, and armbands, made of silver and gold and platinum, many of them studded with precious gems. Some pieces were broken, and others had been melted into lumps of slag, presumably by the mysterious force that had destroyed the tower, whether it had been a duel between the Prince and a powerful rival, or a magical experiment gone wrong.
As for the nameless Prince, no sign of him had been found in the tower, not even a single finger bone. Maybe he had somehow escaped before the tower fell, but Henry thought it was more likely that he had been completely and utterly destroyed, leaving behind nothing except perhaps a bit of ash that had mingled with the rubble of the Tower, becoming indistinguishable from the bits of powdered stone.
Supporting this theory was the fact that the focus of the destruction seemed to have centered around the Prince's throne room. The very walls had crumbled into rubble, and the throne, which had been carved from a single huge slab of marble, had been blasted into pieces. Nothing in the room had survived intact, although there were a few singed scraps of velvet that might be the remains of the Prince's robes, a few shards of porcelain that might have been a vase or statue, and a few splinters of wood that might or might not have been a wizard's wand or staff. Nothing at all...except for a single gold ring set with a large ruby.
The team had been excited when they found it, convinced that it must be a powerful magical artifact. However, extensive testing had not detected a single trace of magic on the ring, so they had filed it away as a disappointment, a mere bauble that had survived through sheer coincidence.
But Henry did not believe in coincidence, so he examined the ring very carefully. It was obviously a man's ring, with a wide, heavy band etched with a design of vines winding around the ring in a sinuous pattern that made Henry a little dizzy if he stared at it for too long. Maybe if he took a photograph of the ring and sent it to Tremayne and Theodore, they would be able to determine whether or not there were runes hidden in that design or if it was purely decorative.
The ring was encrusted with dirt and grime, making it difficult to see the intricacies of the vine pattern, so Henry decided to clean it before taking the photo. He gently wiped away the grime with a soft cloth dipped in a mild cleaning solution, allowing the gold beneath to shine through. He still couldn't make out any individual runes, but an expert like Tremayne might be able to see something that he couldn't.
It only took a few minutes to clean the band, but there was more grime stubbornly caked around the setting of the ruby, more deeply than the cloth could easily reach. A cleaning spell was normally considered very minor and harmless magic, but Henry didn't want to try casting one on the ring until he knew for sure whether or not it was really magical, because sometimes two types of magic could clash with unpredictable results. It was probably an unnecessary precaution, but given the Dark and destructive nature of most of the other magical artifacts found in the tower, he didn't want to take any chances.
So he took a thin metal pick from his tool kit, and very carefully began scraping away the grime trapped between the ruby and the gold setting. Little clumps and flakes of dirt came loose and fell onto his desk, and Henry frowned as he took a closer look at them. They were a dark reddish-brown, not the gray of ash and powdered stone, or the black of soot. Struck by a sudden suspicion, Henry opened a small vial of potion that was used to detect the presence of blood, and sprinkled a few drops on the flakes of dirt, which immediately began glowing bright red.
Henry's heart began pounding with excitement. Now, it might be that there was blood on the ring only because the Prince had been injured in the duel that had destroyed his tower. But if he had been wearing the ring at the time, why hadn't it been vaporized along with his body, or at least melted down into slag?
The more logical answer was that the ring was a Dark artifact, and most Dark magics were fueled by blood or malice, or both. The ring had gone dormant due to the death of its master, but blood might reawaken it again...
Henry hesitated for a moment, weighing the risks in his mind, but there was no way to confirm his theory other than to actually test it. He cut his fingertip with a knife and allowed a single drop of his blood to fall onto the ruby, which glowed red for a moment, then faded and returned to normal.
But this time, when Henry cast his detection spells, they registered positive for both magic in general, and Dark Magic in particular. He was still a long way from figuring out how to use the ring's magic to find the werewolf who had stolen the medallion, but it was a first step, and he grinned exultantly. He was supposed to notify the Aurors immediately if he discovered anything significant, but he had taken on this project at Erika's behest, and he wanted to give her the good news first. She worked at the Ministry, after all, so surely it couldn't do any harm to stop by her department first before reporting to the Aurors.
However, when he stopped by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, he was informed that Erika was in St. Mungo's.
"What happened?!" Henry cried. "It...it wasn't another werewolf attack, was it?" Erika was the sister of a werewolf who belonged to the same pack as Ash Randolf, so maybe she had become a target by association. He was gripped by a paralyzing sense of fear that seemed out of proportion, considering that he barely knew Erika. He told himself that any decent human being would be horrified at the prospect of someone they knew, however briefly, being savaged by a werewolf.
"No, nothing like that," the other staff member assured him. "She was injured while confiscating an unlicensed magical beast...a Porvora, to be exact."
Henry couldn't remember exactly what a Porvora was, but he didn't bother asking for a more detailed explanation. Instead, he ran off to take the Floo to St. Mungo's, completely forgetting about the magical ring.
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Meanwhile, alone in the safe house, Greyback felt a brief tingling sensation on the skin of his chest, almost like a burst of static electricity, right beneath where the medallion rested. Then it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He pulled open his robes to examine his chest, but found no mark there, not the slightest bruise or welt or even reddening of the skin.
He wondered uneasily if he ought to mention this to the twins, then decided against it. Maybe it was a natural effect of the medallion's magic that hadn't manifested until now, or maybe he had just imagined the whole thing. It had only lasted for about a second, after all. He could imagine Warren mocking him, asking him if he had changed from a wolf into a cowardly mutt who jumped at shadows.
But what he really feared was that Imogen would take him seriously and forbid him to use the medallion. She had only reluctantly agreed to let him steal it, and she had been worried at first that the medallion might not function properly because it was damaged. If she thought it was malfunctioning, she would probably take it away from him, not so much because she was concerned about his safety, but because she and her brother would lose a valuable servant if the medallion killed Greyback. Not to mention that she would never take the risk that Greyback might lose his sanity and attack them while in wolf form.
Greyback didn't want to die, of course, or be killed by the Unbreakable Vow if he should unintentionally break his promise, but he was loathe to give up his prize unless he was sure that it was a danger to himself and the twins. He would remain quiet for now and wait to see if any other side effects occurred. The freedom of being able to transform at will was surely worth a few risks.
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The Ministry had received a tip that Otto Bagman was keeping a Porvora on his property--the man really had no common sense. He already had a number of previous complaints filed against him for possessing illegal Muggle devices, and now it seemed that he was moving on to magical creatures. Properly handled, Porvoras were gentle, friendly animals, but they were known as "living bombs" because their blood was highly explosive, and the timid creatures had a habit of blowing up themselves--and anything else in the near vicinity--when they were frightened. Naturally, capturing one was an unpopular task, so this assignment was given to the most junior member of the Control of Magical Creatures department, which happened to be Erika Dietrich.
Erika didn't mind; she had done her research and was prepared to deal with the creature. When she arrived at Bagman's house, she found the Porvora penned up in the front yard, and she shook her head in disbelief. You would think that someone who was keeping an illegal pet would hide it somewhere out of sight, not leave it out in the open where anyone--particularly the neighboring Muggles--might see it! Then again, no one with even a scrap of intelligence would be keeping a pet Porvora to begin with.
The Porvora was deceptively cute and harmless-looking, resembling a quaffle-sized puffskein with large round eyes; fox-like ears; tiny, clawed hands and feet; and a long, thin, tufted tail. It chirped at her nervously, and she tossed it a piece of milk chocolate, a Porvora's favorite food. The animal immediately relaxed and began nibbling on the treat happily, just as Otto Bagman opened the front door and hurried out to confront Erika. She immediately hit him with a silence spell before he could shout and startle the Porvora into exploding. Then, while the little creature was still distracted by the chocolate, she cast a sleep spell on it, and it fell over and began snoring, not even knowing what had hit it.
After she had securely locked the Porvora in the portable cage she had brought, Erika lifted the spell on Bagman and handed him a formal Ministry writ. "Otto Bagman, you are charged with possession of a prohibited magical creature without a license. Due to the especially dangerous nature of the creature in question, a fine of five hundred Galleons is being levied against you. I will also recommend to the Department Head that you be given a prison sentence of two weeks, since past fines have not seemed to curb your propensity for violating the law."
"But you don't understand!" Bagman wailed. "I need that animal for protection--it's a watchbeast!"
"Protection against what?" Erika asked irritably.
"Against werewolves, of course!" Bagman replied. "Why aren't you doing your job rounding up the murderous werewolves that are running loose instead of harassing innocent citizens who are just trying to protect themselves?!"
"The recent murders are believed to be the work of a single creature, not multiple werewolves," Erika said in a cold voice. "The Aurors are handling that case, so if you have any complaints, take it up with them." Although she did not mention it to Bagman, her department had been helping to monitor known werewolves, but Erika had been left out of that particular assignment. No official reason was given, but she assumed it was because the Department Head feared she would not be objective since her own brother was a werewolf.
"Besides," Erika added, "how is this creature supposed to protect you from a werewolf?"
"Well, obviously it would explode and blow up the werewolf if one came near the house!"
"It's more likely to blow you up, Mr. Bagman!" Erika retorted. "Which wouldn't really concern me, except that there's also a chance that your neighbors could be hurt, to say nothing of all the Muggle memories that the Ministry would have to Obliviate!"
"Please, you can't take away my protection and leave me helpless," Bagman whined, grabbing at Erika's arm. "Please, Miss...er..."
"Dietrich," Erika supplied. "My name is Erika Dietrich. Now unhand me and let me be on my way before I also charge you with assaulting a Ministry employee."
"But the Daily Prophet says we're all in danger," Bagman started to protest, then abruptly fell silent as a look of recognition filled his face. "Dietrich? You're the Dietrich heiress, the one whose brother was turned into a werewolf?"
"Yes," Erika replied curtly, jerking her arm free from Bagman's grasp. She picked up the cage and prepared to Apparate, but Bagman lunged forward and grabbed her again.
"You're in league with them, aren't you?" he demanded hysterically. "You're protecting the werewolves! You're taking away my Porvora so that I'll be easy prey for them!"
"Have you gone insane?" Erika snarled. "Let go of me!"
But Bagman was caught up in his delusion, and continued struggling with Erika, trying to grab the cage away from her. She was unable to reach her wand at the moment, since her hands were occupied with holding onto the cage and fending off Bagman, so she drove her knee into his crotch, and he let go of Erika and fell backwards, howling in pain. Unfortunately, that left Erika off-balance, and she fell too, dropping the cage, which rolled over onto its side. She quickly scrambled back to her feet and reached into her pocket for her wand, although Bagman no longer appeared to be a threat. Her hand had just closed around the wand when she heard a frightened little squeak from the fallen cage, and turned to see the Porvora blinking sleepily and looking around in confusion.
Meanwhile, Bagman was still groaning loudly, too preoccupied to notice that the Porvora had woken up. "Shut up, Bagman, or you'll get us both killed!" Erika hissed. Slowly backing away from the cage as she drew out her wand, she murmured soothingly, "Good Porvora, don't be scared; I have a nice piece of chocolate for you..."
Still oblivious, Bagman shouted, "Damn you, Dietrich, you bitch!" as he clutched at his wounded privates.
Erika had only just begun to cast a shield spell when the Porvora exploded.
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Henry arrived at St. Mungo's and got Erika's room number from the receptionist, who assured him that Miss Dietrich had suffered some serious injuries, but would make a full recovery. That eased his concern slightly, but he still hurried to her room, anxious to see for himself just how bad her injuries were.
He came to an abrupt halt outside her room, feeling a heavy, almost palpable aura of tension hanging in the air. Erika's family, whom he had met at the party--her parents and grandparents--were standing out in the hall confronting a tall, dark-haired young man, who by the look of him, must be Erika's younger brother Aric, the werewolf.
"You do not belong here," Roderick Dietrich, the patriarch of the family, was saying coldly to his grandson.
"Maybe you want nothing to do with me, but Erika is still my sister," Aric retorted just as coldly. "Did you think I wouldn't care when I heard she was hurt?"
"If you cared about this family, you wouldn't be associating with that werewolf...pack!" Roderick spat out the last word, making it sound like an obscenity. "It's bad enough that you were turned, but for you to flaunt your disgrace by openly associating with other werewolves--!"
"There's no point in pretending to be something that I'm not," Aric snarled. "Especially when the entire wizarding world knows that I've been turned! Those werewolves that you hate so much accepted me and gave me a home when my own flesh and blood turned their backs on me!"
"Please, dear, let's not make a scene out in public," Aric's grandmother said tearfully, but it wasn't clear whether she was speaking to her husband or her grandson.
"Grandfather, stop bullying Aric!" a weak but cross female voice called out from the hospital room.
Henry chuckled with relief and said, "Well, she must be all right if she's feeling well enough to argue!"
"Oh, Mr. Bletchley," Alison Dietrich said in surprise when she spotted him. Despite the awkward situation, she was quick to compose herself and say politely, "Have you come to see Erika? It's so kind of you to be concerned."
"Not at all; it's the least I could do," Henry replied, just as politely. He hated the complicated dance of pureblood manners and etiquette, but he had been drilled in it all his life, as most Slytherins were. "Please, I don't want to interrupt a family visit. Why don't you go on ahead, and I'll stop by the gift shop to get some flowers for Miss Dietrich and visit with her a little later." Henry noticed that Erika's brother was clad in the lime-green uniform of a St. Mungo's mediwizard, so he turned to Aric and said smoothly, "I know that you must be concerned about your sister, Mr. Dietrich, but it would greatly ease my mind if you could spare a few minutes to inform me of her condition."
Aric stared at him suspiciously for a moment, then grudgingly nodded, and the air of tension dissipated. The Dietriches filed into Erika's room, and Aric led Henry down the hall towards the gift shop. "Did you really want to buy flowers for Erika?"
"It was really more of a convenient excuse, but it would be the polite thing to do," Henry replied. "I'm sorry to interfere in a private matter, but I just..."
"No, it's all right," Aric said with a wry smile. "I suppose it wouldn't be good for either my sister's recovery or my career if I got into a brawl with my grandfather at the hospital. Are you one of Erika's suitors?"
"Just a friend," Henry replied, holding out his hand. "I'm Henry Bletchley."
"Aric Dietrich," Aric said, grasping Henry's hand firmly and shaking it. "Oh, you're the scholar from the museum, right? Erika said that you were helping to track down the medallion."
That suddenly reminded Henry of his discovery. "Yes, actually, I'd just gone to the Ministry to tell Erika that I'd found something useful, but her office told me she'd been injured, so I came straight here."
"Really?" Aric asked eagerly. "You found something that will help catch the killer?"
"Shh," Henry cautioned. "It's supposed to be classified information. I have to discuss it with the Aurors first, but I think that what I've found could be a big help to them."
"If it is, then I'm in your debt," Aric said, looking much friendlier than he had a few minutes ago. "You know how the Ministry is. If they can't find the real criminal, then they'll start looking for a scapegoat."
"I'll do whatever I can to help," Henry promised.
"Thanks," Aric said. Then he frowned at Henry, looking a little suspicious again.
"Is something wrong?" Henry asked.
"You said that you're a friend of my sister, but how exactly do you know her?"
"Um, well, we met at a party," Henry replied nervously. He had been caught off-guard by that unexpected question, and wasn't able to think up a convincing lie in time.
"Aha!" Aric exclaimed almost triumphantly. "You're one of the eligible men that my mother was recruiting as potential suitors, right?"
"I was just invited because I come from a prominent pureblood family," Henry replied, trying to sound casual about it. "Really, I'm not a suitor."
"Why not?" Aric demanded belligerently. "Don't you like my sister? What's wrong with her?"
"Nothing at all!" Henry hastily demurred. "She's a very beautiful young woman--and brave, intelligent, and compassionate as well! Any man would be proud to have such a wife!"
"Any man except you?" Aric asked pointedly.
Henry laughed nervously. "Oh, I'm a confirmed old bachelor scholar. Your sister can do much better than me, I'm sure."
"Hmm," Aric murmured, staring at Henry with a thoughtful gaze that was intense enough to make him sweat.
"Excuse me, Aric," a nurse called out. "A victim of a grindylow attack has just been brought in, and Healer Smethwyck needs your help."
"I'll be right there," Aric told her. "I guess we'll talk later, Henry. Give Erika my best."
"I will," Henry replied, and slumped against the wall in relief once Aric was out of sight. He realized then that he had never got around to asking about Erika's condition, but he supposed that he could ask her directly in a little while.
He got some flowers from the gift shop and waited long enough (he hoped) for Erika's family to leave. Fortunately, he had judged correctly and the room was empty of visitors by the time he arrived.
"Hello, Henry," Erika said with a smile. Her arms were wrapped in bandages, leaving only her fingertips bare, and there were red, half-healed burn marks on her face, but she seemed to be in good spirits. "Thanks for defusing that argument out in the hall earlier."
"No problem," Henry replied, placing the flowers in an empty vase. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better than that idiot Bagman," Erika said, her eyes glittering dangerously. She looked just as intimidating as her werewolf brother, if not more so, and Henry was glad that her anger wasn't directed at him. She explained about confiscating the Porvora and added, "Fortunately, I was able to partially shield myself from the explosion, but Bagman took the full brunt of it. Unfortunately, I'm told that he'll survive, but at least it's definite that he'll get some prison time for causing injury to a Ministry official in the course of her duties." Suddenly she laughed and added, "Getting injured by a Porvora explosion is becoming something of a Dietrich family tradition, it seems. My brother was hurt by one in school last year."
"How did a Porvora ever get into Hogwarts?" Henry asked.
"Oh, some idiot teacher thought they'd be a good subject for Care of Magical Creatures," Erika replied offhandedly. "Another student who had a grudge against Aric stole one and hid it in a Christmas present as a prank."
"Nasty prank."
"Mm, well, my little brother can be a git at times, but that was a bit extreme. I'd have hexed him into oblivion when I found out who it was, but it seems that he's repentant and even volunteered to work in the werewolf clinic as penance for his crimes, so Aric asked me not to kill him." Erika smiled fondly. "Imagine that, my brother being merciful! And he was always such a ruthless little boy. I suppose that means he's growing up."
That turned into a reminiscence of Aric's childhood and an explanation of how he had run afoul of the R.A., a secret society of students who had been intent on proving that the Slytherins were Death Eaters.
Henry shook his head. "Who could imagine that Hogwarts was so full of intrigue? Then again, I suppose the school has always had its secrets. There were all those stories about the Chamber of Secrets and the Heir of Slytherin, which actually turned out to be true."
"By the way, how is your research coming along?" Erika asked.
"Oh, that's right; I almost forgot!" Henry exclaimed. "I believe I've found the control device! I was on my way to tell you, but then your office told me that you'd been injured and--"
"What?!" Erika cried. "Are you sure?"
"I can't prove it beyond a doubt yet, but I'm reasonably sure," Henry replied. "And I still have to figure out how to use it to control the medallion, but--"
"Then what are you doing wasting your time here?" Erika demanded indignantly.
"Er, well, you were hurt and--"
"I appreciate your concern, but you need to get back to work so you can figure out how to use the device," Erika said in a firm voice, and as injured as she was, practically threw him out of the room. Or at least, he was convinced that she would have physically shoved him out the door and through the nearest Floo if he hadn't left of his own volition, and he was worried that she might aggravate her wounds, so he left at her urging, wondering why he felt a little disgruntled. True, it was a bit rude to make a guest leave so hastily, but there was a killer at large, after all, and Henry held the key to capturing him. It was vital to get that information to the Aurors as soon as possible.
He took the Floo back to the Ministry and found Shacklebolt, Tonks, and the Potter boy in the Aurors' office, sorting through tips and looking over maps of Britain. "Bletchley!" Shacklebolt said hopefully. "Have you found something useful?"
"I hope so," Henry replied, and showed him the ring.
"Let's talk somewhere more private," Tonks suggested, and they moved into one of the interview rooms, closing the door behind them. "I thought it might be better to discuss this without Dawlish's lackeys listening in."
Henry explained what he had discovered, and the Aurors' faces lit up. "Then we can use this to control Greyback?" Potter asked excitedly. "Maybe even summon him right into a prison cell?"
"Possibly," Henry started to reply, then the boy's words belatedly sank in. "Greyback? You've figured out the killer's identity? But I thought he was dead!"
"Harry," Shacklebolt said reproachfully. "That's supposed to be classified information."
"Sorry," the boy said sheepishly. "I was just so excited, I forgot."
Tonks smiled kindly at him. "It's all right, Harry. We're all so tired that it's difficult to think straight." Henry noticed that both she and Potter were pale, and had dark circles beneath their eyes, as if they'd gotten little sleep the night before, or possibly for the past several nights. Shacklebolt's darker skin disguised any such symptoms on his face, but there was an air of weariness about him as well.
"Everyone's been working overtime on this case," Shacklebolt sighed, confirming Henry's guess. "Well, I suppose there's no harm done, but you'll have to swear to keep this information to yourself, Bletchley. Yes, Greyback is the killer, and he's probably working for a Death Eater, or more likely, one of the Death Eater's relatives. But the Ministry doesn't want a panic to break out, so we're keeping it quiet for now."
"I understand," Henry said solemnly. "I promise that I won't say anything, on my word of honor as a Slytherin."
He thought for a moment that Shacklebolt was going to say something about a Slytherin's honor not being very trustworthy, but the Auror just nodded and said, "Thank you."
"So what's the next step?" Potter asked eagerly. "How do we use the ring to command Greyback?"
"I'm not really sure," Henry confessed. "There may already be a sufficient connection between the ring and the medallion, or I might need some blood from Greyback in order to forge that connection. I suspect that one of us is going to need to put on the ring to test these theories, and I'm a little loathe to do so at the moment, considering how many traps the Prince had in his tower. It did respond to my blood, which is a positive sign, but for all we know, it might be enchanted to kill anyone who dons it other than its true owner."
"If we need blood from Greyback, that's going to be a problem," Tonks said gloomily. "If we could get close enough to draw blood from him, we wouldn't need the ring to find him."
"I hate to say this," Potter said. "But Professor Snape is an expert in Dark Magic. Maybe we should ask him for advice?"
"That's a good idea, Mr. Potter," Henry agreed. "I would appreciate his help, if he's willing to give it."
So the Aurors contacted Snape, who arrived with his lover Lupin. It was so strange that Snape, who had been part of Lucius Malfoy's crowd in school, had fallen in love with a werewolf. {Then again, maybe not,} Henry reconsidered. Snape had always had a fascination with the Dark Arts, so maybe it wasn't so strange that he would be drawn to a Dark Creature.
Although Remus Lupin looked anything but Dark, with his sunny smile and silver-streaked golden-brown hair. "I don't know how much help I can be, but I asked Severus to let me tag along," the werewolf said cheerfully. "Since we're trying to track down a werewolf, maybe I can assist you in some way. I understand that you need blood samples?"
"Don't be so quick to volunteer your blood, Lupin," Snape said disapprovingly. "Any number of Dark spells can be used against someone with just a single drop of their blood."
"I'm not sure, but I suspect that I might need Greyback's blood in particular," Henry said. "Not just the blood of a werewolf in general." He explained once more about the ring he had found, and how the ruby had glowed at the touch of his blood.
"Yes, I think you're right," Snape said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, a distracted look in his eyes as he seemed to be searching his memory. "Are you thinking of the research done by Sorensen in his 'Tome of Dark Artifacts'?"
"Yes, and also Armitage's related theories of Blood Magic..."
Henry and Snape got into a lively discussion about various academic texts, one of the best he'd had in a long time. Henry had worked with many renowned scholars in the past, but Severus Snape had the greatest knowledge of Dark Magic of any man or woman he'd ever met, including the staff of Durmstrang. Snape was just offering to lend Henry a particularly rare text from the Snape family's personal library when Lupin coughed--a quiet, polite sound obviously meant to catch their attention.
Henry looked up to see Lupin smiling at them in amusement, while the Aurors were staring at them with impatient (in Shacklebolt's case) or glazed (Tonks and Potter) eyes. "Sorry, I guess we got a little carried away," Henry said with a grin. "But the book that Severus offered to lend me could prove very helpful to my research."
"Just take good care of it," Snape cautioned sternly. "It's one of only five copies left in existence."
"I will, Severus," Henry promised.
"With this type of artifact, it's likely that it needs both the blood of the master and the servant in order to properly bond the two," Snape informed the Aurors didactically, as if he were lecturing his students. "It's possible that it may have already keyed itself to Henry, as a matter of fact, since his blood awakened it from dormancy. However, I would suggest that we do further research before he tries putting it on his finger, lest he lose his finger and possibly his life."
Potter shuddered, and Henry felt the same way. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to use his own blood to test the ring, after all. He wondered if it was too late to cleanse the ring and re-key it to another master--one of the Aurors, perhaps.
"If that's true, then that means we need Greyback's blood," Potter said. "How can we possibly get hold of that?"
"Do you think that sanatorium where we found Greyback might have some blood samples from him?" Lupin asked Snape.
"Sanatorium?" Henry asked, puzzled.
"It's a long story," Snape replied. "The short version is that the Dark Lord didn't kill Greyback as everyone thought, but instead had him locked up in a sanatorium in Romania." In answer to Lupin, he said, "No, I doubt it. The extent of the medical care that they provide to their patients is simply to drug them into a stupor. I doubt that they'd bother taking blood samples, unless they were selling them to black market apothecaries. Hmm...but that gives me an idea. Greyback bit Bill Weasley, correct?"
"That's right," Shacklebolt replied. "But it was my understanding that Bill did all the bleeding. I'll double-check the report, but I don't think that Greyback left any blood behind at the crime scene."
"But blood all looks the same, werewolf or human, right?" Tonks argued. "And Bill's blood was all over the place. If Greyback had even a tiny cut, spilled even a drop of blood..."
"That's all I would need, a single drop," Henry said. "If Severus and I are correct about our theory, that is. It might not be as effective if it's mixed with someone else's blood, but if that's all we have, I'll do the best I can."
"Has the shop been cleaned up yet?" Lupin asked. "It won't do us any good if all the blood's been scrubbed away."
"I'm not sure, but I don't think so," Harry replied. "Ron said that the twins don't want to open the shop again until Bill is better, and the entire family's been spending most of their time at the hospital. His wounds are still healing very slowly, but he's been doing a little better, Ron says. He's conscious now, and able to talk." He hesitated, then said to Snape, "That mediwizard told the Weasleys that the potions you recommended were a big help, so...thank you for helping Bill, Professor."
Snape just grunted in response, looking rather embarrassed. "I wasn't helping Weasley," he said gruffly. "I just don't want the werewolves to be persecuted if he dies. If the anti-werewolf sanctions are brought back, it would be a bloody inconvenience to have to find a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor."
Lupin laughed. "But haven't you always coveted that position, Severus? It could be yours for the taking if I'm sacked."
Snape glared at the werewolf. "Experienced Potions Masters are much harder to find than DADA teachers, Lupin," he said haughtily. "The art of potion-brewing requires much more subtlety and skill than a bunch of foolish wand-waving."
Lupin laughed again, and Potter and Tonks were smiling, but Shacklebolt cleared his throat impatiently. "If you two don't mind, could you please debate the virtues of potion-brewing versus spell-casting some other time?"
Snape glowered at the Auror for a moment, then said huffily, "Fine. Getting back to the original subject, yes, I think it would be a good idea to search the shop for traces of Greyback's blood. But what I was actually thinking was that Mr. Kimura mentioned that they took samples of Bill's blood at the hospital."
"How would that help us, Severus?" Tonks wanted to know.
"If they took samples directly from the bite wounds, they should contain some of Greyback's saliva," Snape replied. "Saliva is a bodily fluid, and while it's not quite as effective as blood in Dark spells..."
"It just might work!" Henry finished excitedly. "Blood would be best, of course, but I think that I could manage to make saliva work as a substitute. There's the problem of cross-contamination with Bill Weasley's blood, though...hmm. But I think I might be able to adapt a particular cleaning spell used in archaeological work, and use it to separate the two. I'll have to experiment with it first, of course. And if I'm working with saliva, it might be helpful if I could mix it with another substance from Greyback's body, such as hair or nail clippings."
"I think there were bits of fur at the crime scene!" Tonks exclaimed enthusiastically. "We'd better contact the twins right away and tell them not to clean up the shop until we've had a chance to collect samples!"
"There might be fur on Bill's robes, too," Potter added. "If the St. Mungo's staff didn't throw them away."
"I believe that their policy is to hold onto the patient's belongings, even if damaged or bloodstained," Snape said. "The patient or his family might want them if they have sentimental value, or they might be required as evidence in the case of a crime. Some of the other departments might be a bit lax about such things, but Healer Smethwyck and his staff are very thorough."
"Then we'd best contact St. Mungo's as well," Shacklebolt said. "Thanks for your help, Snape. We really appreciate it." He held out his hand, and Snape looked startled, but shook it.
"As I told Potter, I'm not doing it for your sake, but you're welcome," the Potions Master replied, and Shacklebolt heaved a sigh of resignation.
"At least he said 'You're welcome' this time," Tonks pointed out brightly.
"You should be gracious when someone thanks you, Severus," Lupin scolded.
"I'll head over to Snape Manor and send that book to Henry," Snape said, ignoring both of them. "You do know the proper spells for detecting non-human blood, I hope?"
"Tonks and I do," Shacklebolt replied, keeping his voice level with an obvious effort. "Harry doesn't, but--"
Snape gave Potter a condescending look that seemed to say, "Just as I expected." The boy looked a little irritated, but didn't seem surprised, as if it were a common occurrence. Maybe it was; Snape had always hated Gryffindors in general and Potter's father in particular, and he probably wouldn't show much leniency even to the Savior of the Wizarding World.
"--we haven't covered that part of his Auror training yet," Shacklebolt finished. "He's only been working with us for a few months, after all. But I'm sure that he'll pick it up in no time. He's a very quick study."
Potter smiled proudly, and Snape scowled and said, "Not in my experience, but good luck to you if you think you can manage it."
Shacklebolt scowled back at him, and Henry thought it might be prudent to interrupt and provide a change of subject. "By the way, Severus, I was hoping to consult with Master Tremayne and your son. I'd like them to examine the ring and see if they can make out any runes in this design."
"Good idea," Snape agreed. "I'll talk to Tremayne and have him get in touch with you."
"Please let us know if we can help you with anything else," Lupin said pleasantly, and he and Snape left.
"Merlin, I swear that every time I talk to Snape, I end up wanting to strangle him!" Shacklebolt growled.
"Just be glad that you didn't have to take his classes for seven years," Potter said wryly.
"Oh, Snape has always been difficult, even as a boy," Henry chuckled. "But he is a brilliant scholar."
"And he reminds you of it at every opportunity," Shacklebolt said dourly.
"Well, geniuses often seem to be temperamental in proportion to their talent," Henry said with a shrug.
"You seem to be an amiable sort," Tonks said with a grin. "Surely you're not questioning your talent, are you?"
Henry grinned back at her. "I'm the exception that proves the rule."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
By the time that Greyback met with the Macnair twins, he had almost forgotten about that earlier tingling sensation he had felt. It was probably nothing, just a random twitch or itch brought on by boredom from being cooped up in the safe house. Hunting had proved unsatisfying since the Ministry had issued its curfew, and Greyback was longing for fresh prey.
"We've agreed that it's time for me to challenge the leader of the werewolf pack."
"Yes, but we need to find a way to lure him out to you," Imogen replied, frowning. "You can hardly walk up to the gates of Hogwarts and ask to see him."
"He spends most of his time at the school or at the Diggory mansion," Warren said. "The mansion has fewer wards than Hogwarts, obviously, but the Malfoys and about half of his pack live there with him, and even you couldn't beat all of them single-handedly, Greyback."
"We need to take a hostage," Greyback said. "Someone not as well-guarded, that we can capture without too much trouble. Someone he cares about enough that he'd risk walking into a trap for."
"His pregnant wife would be the obvious choice, but Narcissa hasn't been seen in public for some time," Warren said. "Diggory is very protective of his wife, and I'm sure that he doesn't want to expose her to danger."
"One of the pack children?" Imogen suggested. "He's said to be very fond of the 'cubs,' as he apparently calls them." She smirked and rolled her eyes. "Isn't that cute?"
Greyback snorted in disgust and shook his head. "Cubs! Is he truly the fierce wolf that you've been telling me about?"
"He is," Imogen replied. "He may be infected with a touch of sentimentality, but make no mistake, he is very dangerous."
"Good," Greyback said, undaunted. "It will be nice to have a challenging opponent for a change. And we can use his sentimentality against him."
"The pack has been very cautious since Ash Randolf became a suspect in the murders," Warren said. "The adults have been keeping a low profile, rarely going anywhere except to and from work, and the children haven't been seen in public at all recently. It will be difficult to snatch one of the brats. Greyback would have to break into the Diggory mansion to get at them. One of the girls is a first-year at Hogwarts, but breaking into the school is even more impossible."
"So what do we do?" Greyback growled irritably.
"We'll have to settle for one of the adults," Warren said. "Some of them live in a London townhouse, which is less secure than the mansion, but you'd still have to fight several werewolves at once. So the best bet would be to take an individual from their workplace. One woman works at Madam Malkin's, another as a maid at the Leaky Cauldron, and a third at the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley. There's a former pureblood named Brian Perry who works at a bookstore..."
Warren went through all the information that he'd managed to compile on the werewolf pack until he finally came to the last name on his list. "Ash Randolf works at the Ministry of Magic, of course," Warren sneered. "He and Diggory are supposed to be close friends, and of course I would love to give my dear half-brother a warm welcome into the family, but snatching him from the Ministry might prove a little difficult."
"I think this man Perry is the easiest target," Imogen said thoughtfully. "He was only turned a few years ago, and he was a spoiled rich boy before he became a werewolf. He won't be as good at defending himself as the others."
"But will the pack leader risk himself for a pampered little pureblood?" Greyback asked skeptically. "In a way, your half-brother set this whole thing into motion, beginning with you freeing me from the sanatorium. It only seems appropriate that it should end with him, too."
"Why, that's almost poetic, Greyback," Imogen said with a faint, amused smile.
"I'm a sensitive soul," Greyback replied, grinning mockingly back at her. "Besides, you did want me to kill Randolf eventually, right? Might as well kill two birds with one stone--both your brother and his pack leader."
"Impressive talk," Warren said skeptically, not sounding impressed at all. "But how do you propose to capture Randolf? You can't just waltz into the Ministry and get him."
"Well, he must leave the building once in awhile," Greyback snapped impatiently. "To go out to lunch, or maybe for a drink after work. Haven't your spies told you anything about his habits?"
"Rumor is that he's taken a lover--the new teacher at Hogwarts, the pretty Japanese swordsman who's supposed to be a shapeshifter," Warren replied. "Apparently pretty boy told Dawlish that Randolf would be staying at Hogwarts with him for his own protection. Dawlish didn't like that, because he knows that Dumbledore will protect the werewolf if he tries to arrest him. Anyway, it seems that Randolf goes straight home to his pretty bird at Hogwarts after work every day. And he usually eats lunch in the cafeteria with Shacklebolt, Tonks, and the Boy Who Lived."
Greyback growled in frustration. "There must be a way to get to him!"
"He has a half-sister, but she lives at Hogwarts, too," Warren said. "And he hated his parents, so he might not risk himself for her, anyway, even if we somehow got our hands on her."
"I have it!" Imogen cried triumphantly. "It's so simple; why didn't we think of it before? Randolf works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department, so all we need to do is arrange a public sighting of an enchanted Muggle device...something significant enough to catch the Ministry's attention, but not significant enough for them to send more than one or two people. Maybe like the flying lawn mower that got Otto Bagman in trouble? In a fairly remote area, so that the Ministry won't send a squad of Obliviators, and there won't be too many potential witnesses to see you capture Randolf."
"Maybe near a little country village?" Warren suggested. "They'd have to send someone to confiscate the device in case some Muggle farmer spots it, but they won't worry too much about it. If it's a minor incident, Randolf will probably be sent to deal with it alone. The Department Head, Perkins, might accompany him, but he's an old man that Greyback could take with one hand tied behind his back."
"Fine," Greyback said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "Let's set the bait, and wait for our wolf to walk into the trap."
Part 27
Henry Bletchley had carefully examined every magical artifact found in the Irish ruins. The Aurors had even grudgingly given him access to the items deemed too dangerous to go on display at the museum--a sign of how desperate they must be to catch the killer, given Shacklebolt's distrust of him. He'd had to promise to conduct his research in private and consult with the Aurors before sharing his findings with anyone; Shacklebolt had not named anyone specifically, but Henry knew that he meant Imogen Macnair. Having no other choice, he had agreed, but he was a little annoyed and insulted that Shacklebolt seemed to think he had no common sense. He felt sorry for Imogen, it was true, and he didn't think that she was a murderer, but he wouldn't have shared potentially dangerous information about Dark artifacts with someone who was merely a casual acquaintance.
However, the precautions that Shacklebolt had imposed on him remained hypothetical so far, since he had found nothing useful relating to the investigation. There was one interesting artifact, a large, thin sheet of copper engraved with what appeared to be a map of Ireland, with jewels marking significant locations on the map. It was badly tarnished and dented and missing a chunk out of one corner, but a few residual traces of the original enchantment remained, enough to tell Henry that the Dark Prince had once used this map to keep watch over his domain, perhaps even track the movements of his servants. This was encouraging, because it supported his theory that the Prince had used a magical device to control his servants, but on the other hand, it brought him no closer to finding that device.
Henry spent most of each day testing the artifacts, trying to discover any hidden properties, and he stayed up late each night reading the notes taken by the archaeological team, as well as the runes translated by Master Tremayne and Theodore. They offered tantalizing hints that the Prince had kept strict control over his guards and servants, many of whom were magical creatures or constructs, but were infuriatingly vague as to how he had actually controlled them.
Having had no luck with the magical artifacts, Henry turned his attention to the non-magical items that had been found in the ruins. They had already been tested for magical auras, of course, but in very rare cases, the enchantment on an item could be disguised or set to remain dormant until a particular condition triggered it into action. There was only a slim chance that the other researchers had overlooked such an enchantment, but surely it couldn't hurt to check, when the only other alternative was to simply give up. His pride wouldn't allow him to admit defeat to Shacklebolt, and he didn't want to disappoint Erika, who was so determined to protect her werewolf brother.
The non-magical artifacts had been carelessly packed away into boxes for storage, having been deemed unimportant for the most part by the archaeologists whose main goal had been to unearth the unique magical items and spells that the Prince had created. Still, the non-magical items had been saved, perhaps to be used in a museum display someday.
Henry revised his opinion of the archaeological team upwards a few notches as he unpacked the boxes, and offered up a silent apology; he had been wrong to say they were careless. They might have regarded the non-magical artifacts as unimportant, but each item had been bagged, then labeled and methodically cataloged, with a notation as to when and where it had been found.
There were mundane, if slightly gaudy, items such as goblets and platters made of gold and silver; the Prince had been given to ostentatious displays of his wealth, it seemed, which was odd, since there had been no one other than his servants to admire them. As a paranoid recluse, the Prince had almost never invited guests into his tower.
There were also vases and furnishings, most of them broken into pieces, and scraps of velvet that might have come from a robe or tapestry. It was almost impossible to determine the original source now, but it didn't really matter, since Henry doubted that the Prince would have used a robe or tapestry as a control device. And since the control device would have to be something that he could have easily carried on his person, Henry also ruled out the vases, furnishings, plates, and goblets, and after a cursory examination, he carefully packed them away again.
Finally, he examined the items that held the most potential: pieces of jewelry that were valuable in the monetary sense, but useless to the archaeologists who had been intent upon making magical discoveries. There were rings, bracelets, torcs, necklaces, and armbands, made of silver and gold and platinum, many of them studded with precious gems. Some pieces were broken, and others had been melted into lumps of slag, presumably by the mysterious force that had destroyed the tower, whether it had been a duel between the Prince and a powerful rival, or a magical experiment gone wrong.
As for the nameless Prince, no sign of him had been found in the tower, not even a single finger bone. Maybe he had somehow escaped before the tower fell, but Henry thought it was more likely that he had been completely and utterly destroyed, leaving behind nothing except perhaps a bit of ash that had mingled with the rubble of the Tower, becoming indistinguishable from the bits of powdered stone.
Supporting this theory was the fact that the focus of the destruction seemed to have centered around the Prince's throne room. The very walls had crumbled into rubble, and the throne, which had been carved from a single huge slab of marble, had been blasted into pieces. Nothing in the room had survived intact, although there were a few singed scraps of velvet that might be the remains of the Prince's robes, a few shards of porcelain that might have been a vase or statue, and a few splinters of wood that might or might not have been a wizard's wand or staff. Nothing at all...except for a single gold ring set with a large ruby.
The team had been excited when they found it, convinced that it must be a powerful magical artifact. However, extensive testing had not detected a single trace of magic on the ring, so they had filed it away as a disappointment, a mere bauble that had survived through sheer coincidence.
But Henry did not believe in coincidence, so he examined the ring very carefully. It was obviously a man's ring, with a wide, heavy band etched with a design of vines winding around the ring in a sinuous pattern that made Henry a little dizzy if he stared at it for too long. Maybe if he took a photograph of the ring and sent it to Tremayne and Theodore, they would be able to determine whether or not there were runes hidden in that design or if it was purely decorative.
The ring was encrusted with dirt and grime, making it difficult to see the intricacies of the vine pattern, so Henry decided to clean it before taking the photo. He gently wiped away the grime with a soft cloth dipped in a mild cleaning solution, allowing the gold beneath to shine through. He still couldn't make out any individual runes, but an expert like Tremayne might be able to see something that he couldn't.
It only took a few minutes to clean the band, but there was more grime stubbornly caked around the setting of the ruby, more deeply than the cloth could easily reach. A cleaning spell was normally considered very minor and harmless magic, but Henry didn't want to try casting one on the ring until he knew for sure whether or not it was really magical, because sometimes two types of magic could clash with unpredictable results. It was probably an unnecessary precaution, but given the Dark and destructive nature of most of the other magical artifacts found in the tower, he didn't want to take any chances.
So he took a thin metal pick from his tool kit, and very carefully began scraping away the grime trapped between the ruby and the gold setting. Little clumps and flakes of dirt came loose and fell onto his desk, and Henry frowned as he took a closer look at them. They were a dark reddish-brown, not the gray of ash and powdered stone, or the black of soot. Struck by a sudden suspicion, Henry opened a small vial of potion that was used to detect the presence of blood, and sprinkled a few drops on the flakes of dirt, which immediately began glowing bright red.
Henry's heart began pounding with excitement. Now, it might be that there was blood on the ring only because the Prince had been injured in the duel that had destroyed his tower. But if he had been wearing the ring at the time, why hadn't it been vaporized along with his body, or at least melted down into slag?
The more logical answer was that the ring was a Dark artifact, and most Dark magics were fueled by blood or malice, or both. The ring had gone dormant due to the death of its master, but blood might reawaken it again...
Henry hesitated for a moment, weighing the risks in his mind, but there was no way to confirm his theory other than to actually test it. He cut his fingertip with a knife and allowed a single drop of his blood to fall onto the ruby, which glowed red for a moment, then faded and returned to normal.
But this time, when Henry cast his detection spells, they registered positive for both magic in general, and Dark Magic in particular. He was still a long way from figuring out how to use the ring's magic to find the werewolf who had stolen the medallion, but it was a first step, and he grinned exultantly. He was supposed to notify the Aurors immediately if he discovered anything significant, but he had taken on this project at Erika's behest, and he wanted to give her the good news first. She worked at the Ministry, after all, so surely it couldn't do any harm to stop by her department first before reporting to the Aurors.
However, when he stopped by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, he was informed that Erika was in St. Mungo's.
"What happened?!" Henry cried. "It...it wasn't another werewolf attack, was it?" Erika was the sister of a werewolf who belonged to the same pack as Ash Randolf, so maybe she had become a target by association. He was gripped by a paralyzing sense of fear that seemed out of proportion, considering that he barely knew Erika. He told himself that any decent human being would be horrified at the prospect of someone they knew, however briefly, being savaged by a werewolf.
"No, nothing like that," the other staff member assured him. "She was injured while confiscating an unlicensed magical beast...a Porvora, to be exact."
Henry couldn't remember exactly what a Porvora was, but he didn't bother asking for a more detailed explanation. Instead, he ran off to take the Floo to St. Mungo's, completely forgetting about the magical ring.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
Meanwhile, alone in the safe house, Greyback felt a brief tingling sensation on the skin of his chest, almost like a burst of static electricity, right beneath where the medallion rested. Then it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He pulled open his robes to examine his chest, but found no mark there, not the slightest bruise or welt or even reddening of the skin.
He wondered uneasily if he ought to mention this to the twins, then decided against it. Maybe it was a natural effect of the medallion's magic that hadn't manifested until now, or maybe he had just imagined the whole thing. It had only lasted for about a second, after all. He could imagine Warren mocking him, asking him if he had changed from a wolf into a cowardly mutt who jumped at shadows.
But what he really feared was that Imogen would take him seriously and forbid him to use the medallion. She had only reluctantly agreed to let him steal it, and she had been worried at first that the medallion might not function properly because it was damaged. If she thought it was malfunctioning, she would probably take it away from him, not so much because she was concerned about his safety, but because she and her brother would lose a valuable servant if the medallion killed Greyback. Not to mention that she would never take the risk that Greyback might lose his sanity and attack them while in wolf form.
Greyback didn't want to die, of course, or be killed by the Unbreakable Vow if he should unintentionally break his promise, but he was loathe to give up his prize unless he was sure that it was a danger to himself and the twins. He would remain quiet for now and wait to see if any other side effects occurred. The freedom of being able to transform at will was surely worth a few risks.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Ministry had received a tip that Otto Bagman was keeping a Porvora on his property--the man really had no common sense. He already had a number of previous complaints filed against him for possessing illegal Muggle devices, and now it seemed that he was moving on to magical creatures. Properly handled, Porvoras were gentle, friendly animals, but they were known as "living bombs" because their blood was highly explosive, and the timid creatures had a habit of blowing up themselves--and anything else in the near vicinity--when they were frightened. Naturally, capturing one was an unpopular task, so this assignment was given to the most junior member of the Control of Magical Creatures department, which happened to be Erika Dietrich.
Erika didn't mind; she had done her research and was prepared to deal with the creature. When she arrived at Bagman's house, she found the Porvora penned up in the front yard, and she shook her head in disbelief. You would think that someone who was keeping an illegal pet would hide it somewhere out of sight, not leave it out in the open where anyone--particularly the neighboring Muggles--might see it! Then again, no one with even a scrap of intelligence would be keeping a pet Porvora to begin with.
The Porvora was deceptively cute and harmless-looking, resembling a quaffle-sized puffskein with large round eyes; fox-like ears; tiny, clawed hands and feet; and a long, thin, tufted tail. It chirped at her nervously, and she tossed it a piece of milk chocolate, a Porvora's favorite food. The animal immediately relaxed and began nibbling on the treat happily, just as Otto Bagman opened the front door and hurried out to confront Erika. She immediately hit him with a silence spell before he could shout and startle the Porvora into exploding. Then, while the little creature was still distracted by the chocolate, she cast a sleep spell on it, and it fell over and began snoring, not even knowing what had hit it.
After she had securely locked the Porvora in the portable cage she had brought, Erika lifted the spell on Bagman and handed him a formal Ministry writ. "Otto Bagman, you are charged with possession of a prohibited magical creature without a license. Due to the especially dangerous nature of the creature in question, a fine of five hundred Galleons is being levied against you. I will also recommend to the Department Head that you be given a prison sentence of two weeks, since past fines have not seemed to curb your propensity for violating the law."
"But you don't understand!" Bagman wailed. "I need that animal for protection--it's a watchbeast!"
"Protection against what?" Erika asked irritably.
"Against werewolves, of course!" Bagman replied. "Why aren't you doing your job rounding up the murderous werewolves that are running loose instead of harassing innocent citizens who are just trying to protect themselves?!"
"The recent murders are believed to be the work of a single creature, not multiple werewolves," Erika said in a cold voice. "The Aurors are handling that case, so if you have any complaints, take it up with them." Although she did not mention it to Bagman, her department had been helping to monitor known werewolves, but Erika had been left out of that particular assignment. No official reason was given, but she assumed it was because the Department Head feared she would not be objective since her own brother was a werewolf.
"Besides," Erika added, "how is this creature supposed to protect you from a werewolf?"
"Well, obviously it would explode and blow up the werewolf if one came near the house!"
"It's more likely to blow you up, Mr. Bagman!" Erika retorted. "Which wouldn't really concern me, except that there's also a chance that your neighbors could be hurt, to say nothing of all the Muggle memories that the Ministry would have to Obliviate!"
"Please, you can't take away my protection and leave me helpless," Bagman whined, grabbing at Erika's arm. "Please, Miss...er..."
"Dietrich," Erika supplied. "My name is Erika Dietrich. Now unhand me and let me be on my way before I also charge you with assaulting a Ministry employee."
"But the Daily Prophet says we're all in danger," Bagman started to protest, then abruptly fell silent as a look of recognition filled his face. "Dietrich? You're the Dietrich heiress, the one whose brother was turned into a werewolf?"
"Yes," Erika replied curtly, jerking her arm free from Bagman's grasp. She picked up the cage and prepared to Apparate, but Bagman lunged forward and grabbed her again.
"You're in league with them, aren't you?" he demanded hysterically. "You're protecting the werewolves! You're taking away my Porvora so that I'll be easy prey for them!"
"Have you gone insane?" Erika snarled. "Let go of me!"
But Bagman was caught up in his delusion, and continued struggling with Erika, trying to grab the cage away from her. She was unable to reach her wand at the moment, since her hands were occupied with holding onto the cage and fending off Bagman, so she drove her knee into his crotch, and he let go of Erika and fell backwards, howling in pain. Unfortunately, that left Erika off-balance, and she fell too, dropping the cage, which rolled over onto its side. She quickly scrambled back to her feet and reached into her pocket for her wand, although Bagman no longer appeared to be a threat. Her hand had just closed around the wand when she heard a frightened little squeak from the fallen cage, and turned to see the Porvora blinking sleepily and looking around in confusion.
Meanwhile, Bagman was still groaning loudly, too preoccupied to notice that the Porvora had woken up. "Shut up, Bagman, or you'll get us both killed!" Erika hissed. Slowly backing away from the cage as she drew out her wand, she murmured soothingly, "Good Porvora, don't be scared; I have a nice piece of chocolate for you..."
Still oblivious, Bagman shouted, "Damn you, Dietrich, you bitch!" as he clutched at his wounded privates.
Erika had only just begun to cast a shield spell when the Porvora exploded.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
Henry arrived at St. Mungo's and got Erika's room number from the receptionist, who assured him that Miss Dietrich had suffered some serious injuries, but would make a full recovery. That eased his concern slightly, but he still hurried to her room, anxious to see for himself just how bad her injuries were.
He came to an abrupt halt outside her room, feeling a heavy, almost palpable aura of tension hanging in the air. Erika's family, whom he had met at the party--her parents and grandparents--were standing out in the hall confronting a tall, dark-haired young man, who by the look of him, must be Erika's younger brother Aric, the werewolf.
"You do not belong here," Roderick Dietrich, the patriarch of the family, was saying coldly to his grandson.
"Maybe you want nothing to do with me, but Erika is still my sister," Aric retorted just as coldly. "Did you think I wouldn't care when I heard she was hurt?"
"If you cared about this family, you wouldn't be associating with that werewolf...pack!" Roderick spat out the last word, making it sound like an obscenity. "It's bad enough that you were turned, but for you to flaunt your disgrace by openly associating with other werewolves--!"
"There's no point in pretending to be something that I'm not," Aric snarled. "Especially when the entire wizarding world knows that I've been turned! Those werewolves that you hate so much accepted me and gave me a home when my own flesh and blood turned their backs on me!"
"Please, dear, let's not make a scene out in public," Aric's grandmother said tearfully, but it wasn't clear whether she was speaking to her husband or her grandson.
"Grandfather, stop bullying Aric!" a weak but cross female voice called out from the hospital room.
Henry chuckled with relief and said, "Well, she must be all right if she's feeling well enough to argue!"
"Oh, Mr. Bletchley," Alison Dietrich said in surprise when she spotted him. Despite the awkward situation, she was quick to compose herself and say politely, "Have you come to see Erika? It's so kind of you to be concerned."
"Not at all; it's the least I could do," Henry replied, just as politely. He hated the complicated dance of pureblood manners and etiquette, but he had been drilled in it all his life, as most Slytherins were. "Please, I don't want to interrupt a family visit. Why don't you go on ahead, and I'll stop by the gift shop to get some flowers for Miss Dietrich and visit with her a little later." Henry noticed that Erika's brother was clad in the lime-green uniform of a St. Mungo's mediwizard, so he turned to Aric and said smoothly, "I know that you must be concerned about your sister, Mr. Dietrich, but it would greatly ease my mind if you could spare a few minutes to inform me of her condition."
Aric stared at him suspiciously for a moment, then grudgingly nodded, and the air of tension dissipated. The Dietriches filed into Erika's room, and Aric led Henry down the hall towards the gift shop. "Did you really want to buy flowers for Erika?"
"It was really more of a convenient excuse, but it would be the polite thing to do," Henry replied. "I'm sorry to interfere in a private matter, but I just..."
"No, it's all right," Aric said with a wry smile. "I suppose it wouldn't be good for either my sister's recovery or my career if I got into a brawl with my grandfather at the hospital. Are you one of Erika's suitors?"
"Just a friend," Henry replied, holding out his hand. "I'm Henry Bletchley."
"Aric Dietrich," Aric said, grasping Henry's hand firmly and shaking it. "Oh, you're the scholar from the museum, right? Erika said that you were helping to track down the medallion."
That suddenly reminded Henry of his discovery. "Yes, actually, I'd just gone to the Ministry to tell Erika that I'd found something useful, but her office told me she'd been injured, so I came straight here."
"Really?" Aric asked eagerly. "You found something that will help catch the killer?"
"Shh," Henry cautioned. "It's supposed to be classified information. I have to discuss it with the Aurors first, but I think that what I've found could be a big help to them."
"If it is, then I'm in your debt," Aric said, looking much friendlier than he had a few minutes ago. "You know how the Ministry is. If they can't find the real criminal, then they'll start looking for a scapegoat."
"I'll do whatever I can to help," Henry promised.
"Thanks," Aric said. Then he frowned at Henry, looking a little suspicious again.
"Is something wrong?" Henry asked.
"You said that you're a friend of my sister, but how exactly do you know her?"
"Um, well, we met at a party," Henry replied nervously. He had been caught off-guard by that unexpected question, and wasn't able to think up a convincing lie in time.
"Aha!" Aric exclaimed almost triumphantly. "You're one of the eligible men that my mother was recruiting as potential suitors, right?"
"I was just invited because I come from a prominent pureblood family," Henry replied, trying to sound casual about it. "Really, I'm not a suitor."
"Why not?" Aric demanded belligerently. "Don't you like my sister? What's wrong with her?"
"Nothing at all!" Henry hastily demurred. "She's a very beautiful young woman--and brave, intelligent, and compassionate as well! Any man would be proud to have such a wife!"
"Any man except you?" Aric asked pointedly.
Henry laughed nervously. "Oh, I'm a confirmed old bachelor scholar. Your sister can do much better than me, I'm sure."
"Hmm," Aric murmured, staring at Henry with a thoughtful gaze that was intense enough to make him sweat.
"Excuse me, Aric," a nurse called out. "A victim of a grindylow attack has just been brought in, and Healer Smethwyck needs your help."
"I'll be right there," Aric told her. "I guess we'll talk later, Henry. Give Erika my best."
"I will," Henry replied, and slumped against the wall in relief once Aric was out of sight. He realized then that he had never got around to asking about Erika's condition, but he supposed that he could ask her directly in a little while.
He got some flowers from the gift shop and waited long enough (he hoped) for Erika's family to leave. Fortunately, he had judged correctly and the room was empty of visitors by the time he arrived.
"Hello, Henry," Erika said with a smile. Her arms were wrapped in bandages, leaving only her fingertips bare, and there were red, half-healed burn marks on her face, but she seemed to be in good spirits. "Thanks for defusing that argument out in the hall earlier."
"No problem," Henry replied, placing the flowers in an empty vase. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better than that idiot Bagman," Erika said, her eyes glittering dangerously. She looked just as intimidating as her werewolf brother, if not more so, and Henry was glad that her anger wasn't directed at him. She explained about confiscating the Porvora and added, "Fortunately, I was able to partially shield myself from the explosion, but Bagman took the full brunt of it. Unfortunately, I'm told that he'll survive, but at least it's definite that he'll get some prison time for causing injury to a Ministry official in the course of her duties." Suddenly she laughed and added, "Getting injured by a Porvora explosion is becoming something of a Dietrich family tradition, it seems. My brother was hurt by one in school last year."
"How did a Porvora ever get into Hogwarts?" Henry asked.
"Oh, some idiot teacher thought they'd be a good subject for Care of Magical Creatures," Erika replied offhandedly. "Another student who had a grudge against Aric stole one and hid it in a Christmas present as a prank."
"Nasty prank."
"Mm, well, my little brother can be a git at times, but that was a bit extreme. I'd have hexed him into oblivion when I found out who it was, but it seems that he's repentant and even volunteered to work in the werewolf clinic as penance for his crimes, so Aric asked me not to kill him." Erika smiled fondly. "Imagine that, my brother being merciful! And he was always such a ruthless little boy. I suppose that means he's growing up."
That turned into a reminiscence of Aric's childhood and an explanation of how he had run afoul of the R.A., a secret society of students who had been intent on proving that the Slytherins were Death Eaters.
Henry shook his head. "Who could imagine that Hogwarts was so full of intrigue? Then again, I suppose the school has always had its secrets. There were all those stories about the Chamber of Secrets and the Heir of Slytherin, which actually turned out to be true."
"By the way, how is your research coming along?" Erika asked.
"Oh, that's right; I almost forgot!" Henry exclaimed. "I believe I've found the control device! I was on my way to tell you, but then your office told me that you'd been injured and--"
"What?!" Erika cried. "Are you sure?"
"I can't prove it beyond a doubt yet, but I'm reasonably sure," Henry replied. "And I still have to figure out how to use it to control the medallion, but--"
"Then what are you doing wasting your time here?" Erika demanded indignantly.
"Er, well, you were hurt and--"
"I appreciate your concern, but you need to get back to work so you can figure out how to use the device," Erika said in a firm voice, and as injured as she was, practically threw him out of the room. Or at least, he was convinced that she would have physically shoved him out the door and through the nearest Floo if he hadn't left of his own volition, and he was worried that she might aggravate her wounds, so he left at her urging, wondering why he felt a little disgruntled. True, it was a bit rude to make a guest leave so hastily, but there was a killer at large, after all, and Henry held the key to capturing him. It was vital to get that information to the Aurors as soon as possible.
He took the Floo back to the Ministry and found Shacklebolt, Tonks, and the Potter boy in the Aurors' office, sorting through tips and looking over maps of Britain. "Bletchley!" Shacklebolt said hopefully. "Have you found something useful?"
"I hope so," Henry replied, and showed him the ring.
"Let's talk somewhere more private," Tonks suggested, and they moved into one of the interview rooms, closing the door behind them. "I thought it might be better to discuss this without Dawlish's lackeys listening in."
Henry explained what he had discovered, and the Aurors' faces lit up. "Then we can use this to control Greyback?" Potter asked excitedly. "Maybe even summon him right into a prison cell?"
"Possibly," Henry started to reply, then the boy's words belatedly sank in. "Greyback? You've figured out the killer's identity? But I thought he was dead!"
"Harry," Shacklebolt said reproachfully. "That's supposed to be classified information."
"Sorry," the boy said sheepishly. "I was just so excited, I forgot."
Tonks smiled kindly at him. "It's all right, Harry. We're all so tired that it's difficult to think straight." Henry noticed that both she and Potter were pale, and had dark circles beneath their eyes, as if they'd gotten little sleep the night before, or possibly for the past several nights. Shacklebolt's darker skin disguised any such symptoms on his face, but there was an air of weariness about him as well.
"Everyone's been working overtime on this case," Shacklebolt sighed, confirming Henry's guess. "Well, I suppose there's no harm done, but you'll have to swear to keep this information to yourself, Bletchley. Yes, Greyback is the killer, and he's probably working for a Death Eater, or more likely, one of the Death Eater's relatives. But the Ministry doesn't want a panic to break out, so we're keeping it quiet for now."
"I understand," Henry said solemnly. "I promise that I won't say anything, on my word of honor as a Slytherin."
He thought for a moment that Shacklebolt was going to say something about a Slytherin's honor not being very trustworthy, but the Auror just nodded and said, "Thank you."
"So what's the next step?" Potter asked eagerly. "How do we use the ring to command Greyback?"
"I'm not really sure," Henry confessed. "There may already be a sufficient connection between the ring and the medallion, or I might need some blood from Greyback in order to forge that connection. I suspect that one of us is going to need to put on the ring to test these theories, and I'm a little loathe to do so at the moment, considering how many traps the Prince had in his tower. It did respond to my blood, which is a positive sign, but for all we know, it might be enchanted to kill anyone who dons it other than its true owner."
"If we need blood from Greyback, that's going to be a problem," Tonks said gloomily. "If we could get close enough to draw blood from him, we wouldn't need the ring to find him."
"I hate to say this," Potter said. "But Professor Snape is an expert in Dark Magic. Maybe we should ask him for advice?"
"That's a good idea, Mr. Potter," Henry agreed. "I would appreciate his help, if he's willing to give it."
So the Aurors contacted Snape, who arrived with his lover Lupin. It was so strange that Snape, who had been part of Lucius Malfoy's crowd in school, had fallen in love with a werewolf. {Then again, maybe not,} Henry reconsidered. Snape had always had a fascination with the Dark Arts, so maybe it wasn't so strange that he would be drawn to a Dark Creature.
Although Remus Lupin looked anything but Dark, with his sunny smile and silver-streaked golden-brown hair. "I don't know how much help I can be, but I asked Severus to let me tag along," the werewolf said cheerfully. "Since we're trying to track down a werewolf, maybe I can assist you in some way. I understand that you need blood samples?"
"Don't be so quick to volunteer your blood, Lupin," Snape said disapprovingly. "Any number of Dark spells can be used against someone with just a single drop of their blood."
"I'm not sure, but I suspect that I might need Greyback's blood in particular," Henry said. "Not just the blood of a werewolf in general." He explained once more about the ring he had found, and how the ruby had glowed at the touch of his blood.
"Yes, I think you're right," Snape said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, a distracted look in his eyes as he seemed to be searching his memory. "Are you thinking of the research done by Sorensen in his 'Tome of Dark Artifacts'?"
"Yes, and also Armitage's related theories of Blood Magic..."
Henry and Snape got into a lively discussion about various academic texts, one of the best he'd had in a long time. Henry had worked with many renowned scholars in the past, but Severus Snape had the greatest knowledge of Dark Magic of any man or woman he'd ever met, including the staff of Durmstrang. Snape was just offering to lend Henry a particularly rare text from the Snape family's personal library when Lupin coughed--a quiet, polite sound obviously meant to catch their attention.
Henry looked up to see Lupin smiling at them in amusement, while the Aurors were staring at them with impatient (in Shacklebolt's case) or glazed (Tonks and Potter) eyes. "Sorry, I guess we got a little carried away," Henry said with a grin. "But the book that Severus offered to lend me could prove very helpful to my research."
"Just take good care of it," Snape cautioned sternly. "It's one of only five copies left in existence."
"I will, Severus," Henry promised.
"With this type of artifact, it's likely that it needs both the blood of the master and the servant in order to properly bond the two," Snape informed the Aurors didactically, as if he were lecturing his students. "It's possible that it may have already keyed itself to Henry, as a matter of fact, since his blood awakened it from dormancy. However, I would suggest that we do further research before he tries putting it on his finger, lest he lose his finger and possibly his life."
Potter shuddered, and Henry felt the same way. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to use his own blood to test the ring, after all. He wondered if it was too late to cleanse the ring and re-key it to another master--one of the Aurors, perhaps.
"If that's true, then that means we need Greyback's blood," Potter said. "How can we possibly get hold of that?"
"Do you think that sanatorium where we found Greyback might have some blood samples from him?" Lupin asked Snape.
"Sanatorium?" Henry asked, puzzled.
"It's a long story," Snape replied. "The short version is that the Dark Lord didn't kill Greyback as everyone thought, but instead had him locked up in a sanatorium in Romania." In answer to Lupin, he said, "No, I doubt it. The extent of the medical care that they provide to their patients is simply to drug them into a stupor. I doubt that they'd bother taking blood samples, unless they were selling them to black market apothecaries. Hmm...but that gives me an idea. Greyback bit Bill Weasley, correct?"
"That's right," Shacklebolt replied. "But it was my understanding that Bill did all the bleeding. I'll double-check the report, but I don't think that Greyback left any blood behind at the crime scene."
"But blood all looks the same, werewolf or human, right?" Tonks argued. "And Bill's blood was all over the place. If Greyback had even a tiny cut, spilled even a drop of blood..."
"That's all I would need, a single drop," Henry said. "If Severus and I are correct about our theory, that is. It might not be as effective if it's mixed with someone else's blood, but if that's all we have, I'll do the best I can."
"Has the shop been cleaned up yet?" Lupin asked. "It won't do us any good if all the blood's been scrubbed away."
"I'm not sure, but I don't think so," Harry replied. "Ron said that the twins don't want to open the shop again until Bill is better, and the entire family's been spending most of their time at the hospital. His wounds are still healing very slowly, but he's been doing a little better, Ron says. He's conscious now, and able to talk." He hesitated, then said to Snape, "That mediwizard told the Weasleys that the potions you recommended were a big help, so...thank you for helping Bill, Professor."
Snape just grunted in response, looking rather embarrassed. "I wasn't helping Weasley," he said gruffly. "I just don't want the werewolves to be persecuted if he dies. If the anti-werewolf sanctions are brought back, it would be a bloody inconvenience to have to find a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor."
Lupin laughed. "But haven't you always coveted that position, Severus? It could be yours for the taking if I'm sacked."
Snape glared at the werewolf. "Experienced Potions Masters are much harder to find than DADA teachers, Lupin," he said haughtily. "The art of potion-brewing requires much more subtlety and skill than a bunch of foolish wand-waving."
Lupin laughed again, and Potter and Tonks were smiling, but Shacklebolt cleared his throat impatiently. "If you two don't mind, could you please debate the virtues of potion-brewing versus spell-casting some other time?"
Snape glowered at the Auror for a moment, then said huffily, "Fine. Getting back to the original subject, yes, I think it would be a good idea to search the shop for traces of Greyback's blood. But what I was actually thinking was that Mr. Kimura mentioned that they took samples of Bill's blood at the hospital."
"How would that help us, Severus?" Tonks wanted to know.
"If they took samples directly from the bite wounds, they should contain some of Greyback's saliva," Snape replied. "Saliva is a bodily fluid, and while it's not quite as effective as blood in Dark spells..."
"It just might work!" Henry finished excitedly. "Blood would be best, of course, but I think that I could manage to make saliva work as a substitute. There's the problem of cross-contamination with Bill Weasley's blood, though...hmm. But I think I might be able to adapt a particular cleaning spell used in archaeological work, and use it to separate the two. I'll have to experiment with it first, of course. And if I'm working with saliva, it might be helpful if I could mix it with another substance from Greyback's body, such as hair or nail clippings."
"I think there were bits of fur at the crime scene!" Tonks exclaimed enthusiastically. "We'd better contact the twins right away and tell them not to clean up the shop until we've had a chance to collect samples!"
"There might be fur on Bill's robes, too," Potter added. "If the St. Mungo's staff didn't throw them away."
"I believe that their policy is to hold onto the patient's belongings, even if damaged or bloodstained," Snape said. "The patient or his family might want them if they have sentimental value, or they might be required as evidence in the case of a crime. Some of the other departments might be a bit lax about such things, but Healer Smethwyck and his staff are very thorough."
"Then we'd best contact St. Mungo's as well," Shacklebolt said. "Thanks for your help, Snape. We really appreciate it." He held out his hand, and Snape looked startled, but shook it.
"As I told Potter, I'm not doing it for your sake, but you're welcome," the Potions Master replied, and Shacklebolt heaved a sigh of resignation.
"At least he said 'You're welcome' this time," Tonks pointed out brightly.
"You should be gracious when someone thanks you, Severus," Lupin scolded.
"I'll head over to Snape Manor and send that book to Henry," Snape said, ignoring both of them. "You do know the proper spells for detecting non-human blood, I hope?"
"Tonks and I do," Shacklebolt replied, keeping his voice level with an obvious effort. "Harry doesn't, but--"
Snape gave Potter a condescending look that seemed to say, "Just as I expected." The boy looked a little irritated, but didn't seem surprised, as if it were a common occurrence. Maybe it was; Snape had always hated Gryffindors in general and Potter's father in particular, and he probably wouldn't show much leniency even to the Savior of the Wizarding World.
"--we haven't covered that part of his Auror training yet," Shacklebolt finished. "He's only been working with us for a few months, after all. But I'm sure that he'll pick it up in no time. He's a very quick study."
Potter smiled proudly, and Snape scowled and said, "Not in my experience, but good luck to you if you think you can manage it."
Shacklebolt scowled back at him, and Henry thought it might be prudent to interrupt and provide a change of subject. "By the way, Severus, I was hoping to consult with Master Tremayne and your son. I'd like them to examine the ring and see if they can make out any runes in this design."
"Good idea," Snape agreed. "I'll talk to Tremayne and have him get in touch with you."
"Please let us know if we can help you with anything else," Lupin said pleasantly, and he and Snape left.
"Merlin, I swear that every time I talk to Snape, I end up wanting to strangle him!" Shacklebolt growled.
"Just be glad that you didn't have to take his classes for seven years," Potter said wryly.
"Oh, Snape has always been difficult, even as a boy," Henry chuckled. "But he is a brilliant scholar."
"And he reminds you of it at every opportunity," Shacklebolt said dourly.
"Well, geniuses often seem to be temperamental in proportion to their talent," Henry said with a shrug.
"You seem to be an amiable sort," Tonks said with a grin. "Surely you're not questioning your talent, are you?"
Henry grinned back at her. "I'm the exception that proves the rule."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
By the time that Greyback met with the Macnair twins, he had almost forgotten about that earlier tingling sensation he had felt. It was probably nothing, just a random twitch or itch brought on by boredom from being cooped up in the safe house. Hunting had proved unsatisfying since the Ministry had issued its curfew, and Greyback was longing for fresh prey.
"We've agreed that it's time for me to challenge the leader of the werewolf pack."
"Yes, but we need to find a way to lure him out to you," Imogen replied, frowning. "You can hardly walk up to the gates of Hogwarts and ask to see him."
"He spends most of his time at the school or at the Diggory mansion," Warren said. "The mansion has fewer wards than Hogwarts, obviously, but the Malfoys and about half of his pack live there with him, and even you couldn't beat all of them single-handedly, Greyback."
"We need to take a hostage," Greyback said. "Someone not as well-guarded, that we can capture without too much trouble. Someone he cares about enough that he'd risk walking into a trap for."
"His pregnant wife would be the obvious choice, but Narcissa hasn't been seen in public for some time," Warren said. "Diggory is very protective of his wife, and I'm sure that he doesn't want to expose her to danger."
"One of the pack children?" Imogen suggested. "He's said to be very fond of the 'cubs,' as he apparently calls them." She smirked and rolled her eyes. "Isn't that cute?"
Greyback snorted in disgust and shook his head. "Cubs! Is he truly the fierce wolf that you've been telling me about?"
"He is," Imogen replied. "He may be infected with a touch of sentimentality, but make no mistake, he is very dangerous."
"Good," Greyback said, undaunted. "It will be nice to have a challenging opponent for a change. And we can use his sentimentality against him."
"The pack has been very cautious since Ash Randolf became a suspect in the murders," Warren said. "The adults have been keeping a low profile, rarely going anywhere except to and from work, and the children haven't been seen in public at all recently. It will be difficult to snatch one of the brats. Greyback would have to break into the Diggory mansion to get at them. One of the girls is a first-year at Hogwarts, but breaking into the school is even more impossible."
"So what do we do?" Greyback growled irritably.
"We'll have to settle for one of the adults," Warren said. "Some of them live in a London townhouse, which is less secure than the mansion, but you'd still have to fight several werewolves at once. So the best bet would be to take an individual from their workplace. One woman works at Madam Malkin's, another as a maid at the Leaky Cauldron, and a third at the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley. There's a former pureblood named Brian Perry who works at a bookstore..."
Warren went through all the information that he'd managed to compile on the werewolf pack until he finally came to the last name on his list. "Ash Randolf works at the Ministry of Magic, of course," Warren sneered. "He and Diggory are supposed to be close friends, and of course I would love to give my dear half-brother a warm welcome into the family, but snatching him from the Ministry might prove a little difficult."
"I think this man Perry is the easiest target," Imogen said thoughtfully. "He was only turned a few years ago, and he was a spoiled rich boy before he became a werewolf. He won't be as good at defending himself as the others."
"But will the pack leader risk himself for a pampered little pureblood?" Greyback asked skeptically. "In a way, your half-brother set this whole thing into motion, beginning with you freeing me from the sanatorium. It only seems appropriate that it should end with him, too."
"Why, that's almost poetic, Greyback," Imogen said with a faint, amused smile.
"I'm a sensitive soul," Greyback replied, grinning mockingly back at her. "Besides, you did want me to kill Randolf eventually, right? Might as well kill two birds with one stone--both your brother and his pack leader."
"Impressive talk," Warren said skeptically, not sounding impressed at all. "But how do you propose to capture Randolf? You can't just waltz into the Ministry and get him."
"Well, he must leave the building once in awhile," Greyback snapped impatiently. "To go out to lunch, or maybe for a drink after work. Haven't your spies told you anything about his habits?"
"Rumor is that he's taken a lover--the new teacher at Hogwarts, the pretty Japanese swordsman who's supposed to be a shapeshifter," Warren replied. "Apparently pretty boy told Dawlish that Randolf would be staying at Hogwarts with him for his own protection. Dawlish didn't like that, because he knows that Dumbledore will protect the werewolf if he tries to arrest him. Anyway, it seems that Randolf goes straight home to his pretty bird at Hogwarts after work every day. And he usually eats lunch in the cafeteria with Shacklebolt, Tonks, and the Boy Who Lived."
Greyback growled in frustration. "There must be a way to get to him!"
"He has a half-sister, but she lives at Hogwarts, too," Warren said. "And he hated his parents, so he might not risk himself for her, anyway, even if we somehow got our hands on her."
"I have it!" Imogen cried triumphantly. "It's so simple; why didn't we think of it before? Randolf works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department, so all we need to do is arrange a public sighting of an enchanted Muggle device...something significant enough to catch the Ministry's attention, but not significant enough for them to send more than one or two people. Maybe like the flying lawn mower that got Otto Bagman in trouble? In a fairly remote area, so that the Ministry won't send a squad of Obliviators, and there won't be too many potential witnesses to see you capture Randolf."
"Maybe near a little country village?" Warren suggested. "They'd have to send someone to confiscate the device in case some Muggle farmer spots it, but they won't worry too much about it. If it's a minor incident, Randolf will probably be sent to deal with it alone. The Department Head, Perkins, might accompany him, but he's an old man that Greyback could take with one hand tied behind his back."
"Fine," Greyback said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "Let's set the bait, and wait for our wolf to walk into the trap."
Part 27
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http://www.geocities.com/geri_chans_fics/snapelupin.html
It only goes up to about chapter 12 of Scars because my webmistress has been busy, and I don't really know how to work in html and such, beyond a few basics. Which was why I started this journal, which is a little easier for me to use. From now on, all my fics will be posted here first, and hopefully I can get them added to the site later.
The stories can also be found on Ink Stained Fingers under author name "Geri" but you need to sign up for a password to access the site:
http://inkstain.inkquill.net/
Thanks for reading!
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1) your write a hell of a lot
2) everythign that ive read has been good, except for The Revent, jsut couldn't get into that one.
3) cant wate for more!
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