The St. Mungos lobby was filled with what looked like a sea of redheads. The whole Weasley clan was present, and the room was buzzing with their voices. The tension was palpable. Oliver, the ministry official responsible for detaining George, was trying to soothe the family, to no success.
"Sir, please understand -" Oliver was pleading with a furious Mr. Weasley.
"UNDERSTAND?" Mr. Weasley bellowed. "WHERE IS MY SON!?"
"Once the tests are finished, you may see him -" Oliver tried again.
"Tests!? You told George that his family would be able to find him and see him here. Why did you lie?" Hermione interrupted, absolutely livid, herself.
Oliver took a deep breath. "The healers were eager to get started on learning more about his... condition. Until his first round of testing is finished, I cannot - "
"You can, and you will." Hermione turned at the sound of Draco's confident voice as he strode up to them.
Oliver stiffened visibly at the sight of him. "And exactly who are you to -"
Draco sneered and gestured for a nearby healer to come forward. "I am the wizard who recently donated ten million galleons for the renovations and staffing of this formerly struggling hospital." He turned to the young healer who had run forward. "Please escort the Weasley's to George Weasley's room."
The healer nodded curtly and gestured for the Weasley family to follow her, leaving Oliver standing in the lobby looking thoroughly as shocked as he was disgruntled. Mrs. Weasley stopped momentarily to blubber her thanks into Draco's chest, before rushing off.
Hermione and Draco trailed a bit behind the rest. "You know... you're supposed to wear a suit of armor when you do that." Hermione beamed up at Draco.
The corner of his mouth hitched for a moment, but Draco was all business. "My pull here only goes so far, Hermione. I'll do my best to make sure he's looked after."
Hermione laid a gentle hand on his wrist. "It's all anyone could ask for. Thank you."
The group arrived at the confinement ward for "dangerous creatures". They walked by cell after cell; vampires, wendigos, werewolves, and so on. Hermione was horrified. It was clear that most of these creatures had been or were being experimented upon. Some had large patches of fur missing, many had stitch lines, skin grafts, and burn scars, and some practically looked like Swiss cheese with how many pieces of them were missing. It was staggeringly inhumane.
Draco stepped into Hermione's line of sight at a point, and pulled her gaze into his. "Don't look." He said, softly. "Just keep your eyes forward. You don't need to see all this."
Hermione's jaw jutted forward in determination. "I DO need to see this, Draco." Fury was building in her chest. "It's fuel." As nauseating as the situation was, she forced herself to take it all in.
She raked her gaze across missing limbs, open sores, scarred flesh, and the most haunting bit of all: the gaunt, lifeless, helpless look in the eyes of every creatures who's eyes she could see.
They could not do this to George, she wouldn't let them. Her breath shuddered as she imagined her friend in this state. The healer opened a cell at the far end of the hall. As they walked in, it was clear that an extension charm had been used. The cell was, as promised, quite a comfortable prison. To Hermione's surprise, It was more akin to a large studio apartment than to a cell, and definitely leagues better than any of the other rooms they had seen thus far. At the far end of the room was a queen bed, adorned with a black and grey checkered comforter set. Espresso colored night stands flanked the bed, and a matching wardrobe sat in the right corner. There was a large brown sofa and love seat set forming an "L" to her left, with a large bookcase filled with books against the left wall. A kitchenette inhabited the far left corner, with a small, two-seater dining table taking up the rest of the space between that and the "living room." A door to what must have been the Loo was just to the right of the entrance. George was lounging on the sofa with a book, trying a little too hard to appear comfortable and unbothered, when the family walked in.
Mrs. Weasley burst into tears as George stood, and revealed multiple different bandages on his arms. "Oh Georgie!" She wailed and threw her arms around him, blubbering. "What have they done to you?"
"It's alright, Mum," George said, gently patting her on the head. "They just took a little blood, and a couple of tissue and skin samples. Nothing ghastly."
George and Hermione briefly made eye contact. The silent 'yet' passed clearly between them.
Charlie jumped onto the bed and laid sideways across it. "Nice digs, little bro." He grinned as he lounged with his hands behind his head, trying to lighten the mood.
Harry had been slowly walking around the perimeter of the room, inspecting every angle, fixture, and detail that he could. He suddenly turned to George. "I'm not going to stand for this George. I'll throw a fit if I have to. They can't keep you here. It's not right."
Bill had been standing in the 'kitchen' and he tapped his fingers lightly on the counter. "They can, Harry. I don't know if your 'chosen one' clout will do much here. You have to understand that they are terrified of what George might be, and what he might do. They won't let him go until there are certainties."
Ginny had been trying to soothe her father, who was still standing in the doorway, clenching and unclenching his fists in silent rage. At these words, her head snapped up and around. "Certainties? What kind of certainties?"
Ron, who had immediately commandeered the loveseat, and who had been gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, chimed in. "What kind of certainties do you think, Gin? Either they find out what he is, and decide he's no more or less dangerous than any regular wizard, or they find out something they don't like, and they keep him here. Or they kill him trying to figure it out."
Mrs. Weasley's eyes became quite wild. "I will NOT lose another child to incompetent wizards who are driven solely by fear!" Her voice seemed to thunder in the tiny apartment. "I will tear this place apart before they touch my son -"
Mr. Weasley pulled Mrs. Weasley into a tight embrace. "Breathe, Molly. Just breathe. If it comes to that, we will all be right there with you. But let's see what Harry can do first. So far, it does not appear that George is being mistreated."
George nodded. The young man and his father shared a look of silent understanding. What that understanding was, Hermione did not know. But her blood was boiling. If they needed certainty, she would get it for them, BEFORE they could hurt George any further. The silent 'yet' was still echoing in her brain. Her legs carried her out of the door and down the long corridor before she could even think through what she was doing. Draco jogged to catch up with her.
"Hermione! Where are you going?" He said, having to speed walk to keep up with her pace.
"If they want certainties, I will get them certainties," she snarled.
"Hermione, wait. WAIT!" He grabbed for her arm, but Hermione wrenched it out of the way.
"I will not wait!" She snapped as she pushed her way out of the hospital and out on to the sidewalk. She turned on him. "Every moment he spends in there -" She pointed violently at the building. "Is another moment that they have to hurt him, or worse! I will NOT stand idly by and let that happen!"
"Then at least let me help you." Draco offered with hands on hips, quite out of breath from chasing her.
"That would be acceptable. Thank you." She said curtly, before walking around the corner for a private spot to apparate.
Draco followed close behind, straightening his jacket. "Meet me at my place. I have some old texts I've been going through since the werewolf incident. I found some interesting information during the time we were doing research for George's trial prep. I've been following that trail, and I think I've found something to help. It'll be a trip though, so go home and pack a bag, first."
Hermione nodded shortly, and apparated on the spot.
She arrived at his house less than an hour later. He was waiting for her, and let her in before she even knocked. Peepy took her bag, and placed it with a large trunk that was already sitting by the door. It clunked heavily as Peepy set it down. Draco raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"I brought several books, camping gear, and other things we may potentially need or use. Remember, this isn't my first time," she said with an air of business. She wasn't trying to be cold, but there was a task at hand, and she wanted to move forward as soon as possible.
Draco did not seem to take any offense to her curtness, but merely followed suit. "Follow me, please. I'd like to show you what I've found."
She followed him into his study. There were four different large, wooden tables set up with ancient texts lain across them. The texts were clearly being treated with gentle care, so as not to damage them. Draco gestured for her to come over to where he was standing.
"This is Sanskrit. I've just about finished translating it. Remember how we were so baffled by how the wolves were turned - well partially turned - without the moon?" Hermione nodded, so he continued. "Well, it turns out, this was written about wolves who could turn at the will of their alpha... apparently a true alpha must be a werewolf and also a wizard."
Hermione's eyes widened. "That's what Oliver had said they thought George was! A true alpha! What does that mean?"
Draco walked over to the next table. "I was able to run down this text. It explores further the power of an alpha. A wizard in the sixteenth century was able to follow, track, and observe a pack of werewolves for nearly a month. From his observations, he was able to deduce that the pack was fully bound by the will of their alpha. The alpha appeared to control the entire pack; how they moved, when they turned, controlling their mind, body and soul."
Hermione furrowed her brow, trying to process the information. "How is that possible?"
Draco nodded solemnly. "I had the same question. It has to be some form of older magic, right?" He walked to the next table. "These next two texts are very circumstantial, and not entirely helpful. But they mention a place in the Netherlands where one of the oldest packs in history still live." He then drifted over to the last table. "This text mentions that same pack in the Netherlands, and also hints at the packs possible immortality."
Hermione raised her eyebrow. "How is that possible? Lupin was bit when he was young, and he continued to age."
Draco shrugged. "Throughout this research, all I have come to know for certain, is how little Wizards truly know about werewolves."
Hermione stayed silent for a moment, putting together the pieces. "So we are going to the Netherlands then..."
"That's the plan. I intended to go anyways. I want to know more, but I moved the timetable up, given George's situation," he explained.
Hermione smiled appreciatively. "Can I borrow an owl? I need to let Harry, work, and my family know that I will be gone for a few weeks."
"Of course. Will you be allowed to take time off of work on such short notice?" Draco asked as he gestured for her to follow him out of the study and up the stairs.
Hermione scoffed. "I haven't taken a single vacation in five years. The Minister was practically begging me to use some of my vacation days earlier this year."
Draco laughed. "Figures." He opened the door to what turned out to be an aviary. "Use any and as many as you'd like. I'll be waiting downstairs. We have to make one more stop before we head off." He winced, almost imperceptibly.
Hermione squinted at him, suspicious.
"Blaise has got access to unregistered Portkeys. We will be leaving from his place. Also, he has one more text that I want to snag before our trip. I hope that's okay with you. He won't be there. He's... traveling."
Hermione took a deep breath. "For George, it's worth a little of my own discomfort."
Draco smiled. "I hoped you'd say that. Well... you know where I'll be."
He exited, leaving Hermione alone with her dread.