The things represented here are either mine (Starch as one example) or some one else's i.e. the large stone building where this chapter takes place (Hogwarts) which belongs to, well who ever owns the deed I suppose…but I know nothing about modern English laws of property ownership, and only a little about the ancient rules that governed such things in years past.

Gryffindor-120 Points- Eizoku Is awarded 10 Points for being a know it all Gryffindor; Frogfoot earns 10 points for rather Slytherin flattery

Slytherin-220 Points- Milee is awarded 10 points for pursuing power through controlling what people read; I did not get a House listing for you, Miss, but I feel safe in saying that Snape's #1 Girl receives 10 points for enthusiasm; La Pamplemousse again, based on tone I have decided to place you in Slytherin Miss, and you receive 10 points for well for being very Slytherin in your review

Ravenclaw- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

Huffelpuff- if you reviewed and I didn't count you tell me, or review this chapter and get some points for your House.

Chapter 40:

Starch resembled a ghost; pale with a half-committed kiss from the grave. He stood motionless and silent, waiting for the male to deliver the potion to Tala. She was saying a prayer for the ill Were and her tear stained voice drifted to him in the hall.

"The Great Father above a shepherd Chief is. I am His and with Him I want not. He throws out to me a rope and the name of the rope is love, and He draws me to where the grass is green and the water not dangerous, and I eat and lie down and am satisfied. Sometimes my heart is very weak and falls down but He lifts me up again and draws me into a good road. His name is WONDERFUL."

He saw the male pause. Something in the she-Were's words seemed to have caught his attention. 'His eyes are so hungry for things he doesn't believe in. Emotionally he has come so far… Those damn fools! How could they think that more memory altering and thought filtering charms were the answer?!'

"Sometime, it may be very soon, it may be a long, long time," Tala continued speaking the familiar words. "He will draw me into a valley. It is dark there, but I'll be afraid not. For it is in between those mountains that the Shepherd Spirit will meet me and the hunger that I have in my heart all through this life will be satisfied."

He saw the male flinch. Something had hit a soft place in his defenses… Starch closed his eyes, briefly, as a phantom memory drifted past.

Suddenly he felt a shock of unfocused surprise as something wrapped around his neck. Fear crystallized quickly as he identified the something, a pair of hands intent on forcing him down into unconsciousness… Then in a blur, voices whispering to each other, a spell being cast- the released magic scenting the air with a silencing charm. Cold stones -the floor- hands at his back holding him down, pain, fear, blood, his neck -being held tightly- a sharp burning pain as his flesh tore-

Starch jerked back to reality as a drop of blood-sweat slithered down his back. It was just a phantom, one of the few memories that had been shared when he drank the Other's blood.

"He gives me a staff to lean upon. He spreads a table before me with all kinds of foods. He puts His hand upon my head and all the "tired" is gone. My cup He fills till it runs over. What I tell is true. I lie not. These roads that are, 'away ahead,' will stay with me through this life and after; and afterwards I will go to live in the Big Tepee and sit down with the Shepherd Chief forever..."

'The male doesn't believe that he has anything else to look forward to. That's why he acts with so little regard for the rules that govern Fair Play.'

Though Remus had not given any sign that he knew she was there, he became agitated, thrashing and calling out strange half phrases, when Tala left his side for too long.

'Weres are all naturally clan oriented,' Starch reminded himself. 'Even the non-canine based ones. For the first time in his life, I suppose, Lupin seems to have let his guard down… It wouldn't take much for his pack-starved psyche to drive friendship to love…'  He had to laugh at himself, 'But am I thinking about Lupin, now, or the male? No, Lenore was right, there are too many things that need tending to. I'll have to speak with Albus and Alastor.' Starch watched through the partially open door as Tala wiped her eyes and rose to her feet.

"Rip?" She did not release Lupin's hand.

The male indicated the goblet on the table. "You need to get two doses down before the moon."

She wrinkled her nose at the smell but downed it anyway, then tried to hand over the empty goblet. Starch caught the male's involuntary flinch.

"Ok." Setting it on the table instead, she tugged at the thin braid in her hair and blindly reached back for Remus' hand. "You haven't acted like this since before I figured out the rules. Have I done something wrong? Rip, please…"

The male took the goblet and closed the door, after making sure that she was not in need of anything. He did not answer her questions though.

'Tala needed him when she was a child, she always will, on some level, but now she also needs Lupin. How will he react to this? How much does he understand?' Starch made up his mind. They needed to talk.

Surprised he stumbled back when the male walked right into him. Flinging one hand out to find his lost balance point, his other hand automatically sought some sort of grip on the male, and ended up clutching the male's right arm.

"Let go of me."

With his free hand he finger combed his, strange, gray-spotted, hair. "We need to talk."

The male tried to push past him. "No we don't," he growled.

"Your breath rattles so loud that a Human could track you," he punctuated the statement with a jerk on the male's arm. "You've started eating," another jerk, "you didn't even know I was standing here-" He released the male's arm and roughly grabbed a fist full of stringy black hair, forcing the darkly blue eyes to meet his. "Do you really think I don't remember what happened at the end of Last Time?"

The male shoved against his chest. The weakness of the gesture was more alarming than effective.

"We need to talk," he tried to keep his voice low and calm. Inside he felt the world falling apart around him. Running his fingers through the male's hair he tried not to think about the last time the male had regressed; things had gone very badly for everyone.

"No, we don't. Now let me go."

This time the male gave a less than half-hearted twitch. The hallway, right outside of the Werewolf's sick room, was not the place for the kind of talk Starch had in mind.

"Well we're going to talk anyway." Grabbing the male by the arm again and dragging him along, he glanced right and left at each intersection that they came to. "Why couldn't you have told me details about the above ground portion of this place," he demanded in exasperation. "Sometimes you take control too far."

Eventually he found what he was after, a place no one else was likely to overhear anything that they shouldn't. Trying the door latch, and finding it locked, his eyes flashed yellow for the instant that it took to force the lock with his Vampiric power.

"Starch!"

Closing the door Starch leaned back against the male's only exit. He bought some time by taking a moment to fish his sunglasses from a pocket. "When I said we would talk," he peered through the smoky green lenses, "I meant I would talk and you would listen and agree."

The male hissed through his teeth and started to pace the small room's back wall. "Fine then, get this over with."

Another sudden shift in emotional reaction, the male was not nearly as balanced as he would like. Sighing deeply he let his head fall forward. "When did you give up?" He loosely crossed his arms over his chest but did not look up.

The male stopped pacing and looked at him with curious eyes. "What do you mean? I did not 'give up'. Giving up implies an outside force that poses opposition."

"You are giving in to outside forces!" Starch scrubbed both hands through his hair in a late effort to regain control of his frustration. "You are not a mindless puppet."

"I am not an independent individual either Starch." The male advanced as he spoke. "I'm not even real. Sometimes you worry me, you talk to me as though I really existed."

Suddenly it felt like the male had him trapped, even though he was the one that still blocked the door. 'He's just trying to manipulate the situation. It's not even him talking. I must have tripped a charm! Ok, so getting him to acknowledge this directly isn't going to work, maybe I can get him to understand through a parallel?' "Have you had any fruit yet?"

"Fruit? Pieces yes." The male was obviously skeptical of such a switch in topic, but he was also backing off a bit. Not quite as threatening or inside Starch's personal space anymore.

"Good," 'So we got away from the trigger then…' "So what fruit do you like best?"

"Is this something you got from Lenore?" The male quirked an eyebrow at him. "I suppose it'd be Kiwi. Marrying a psychiatrist might have been a bad move for you. Couldn't you have fallen for an artist or some sort of fashion model instead?"

"I did not fall for Lenore. We were designed to be together, and it really wouldn't have mattered what she had been. You'd have had a problem with anything. Why do you like Kiwi?"

Lupin had spent a great deal of time with the male over the past two years and could now follow some of what he said. Having actually absorbed some of his essence, through drinking his blood, Starch was able to speak with the male in the way that the male spoke. It was confusing at times, but any advantage was better than none.

He waited for the male to decide whether or not he would, or even should, answer.

"It's sweet and prickly and soft and tart. It contradicts itself. I think it's sort of funny that way. Plus the name, kiwi, what's with a name like that?" The male huffed a small chuckle, not quite a laugh, but close enough.

'Of course' Starch thought while unscrambling what the male was really saying. 'He identifies with his charges and the people he places his mark on, why not his food too…now there's an idea…' "That's practically two separate natures in one skin. Soft and sweet, but spiny and tangy, you could almost say that it was like two different fruits." He paused to gauge the male's reaction; he nodded. Taking an extra moment to make sure that no charms were beginning to activate, he gave one final push. "You are a Kiwi."

For a split second something clicked. He saw it in the male's eyes; something had connected. Then suddenly a massive charmed psychological defense kicked in and the male dropped, unconscious, to the floor. In a blur Starch was at his side catching him before he could hit the stones.

Several minutes later he gave up trying to wake the male. It appeared that some sort of coma had been activated. After making sure that all of the male's vitals were normal, for him, he carefully drew the limp creature into his arms and began to search for the entrance to the dungeons.

"Damn them for meddling where they knew they shouldn't," he growled to the empty halls, and his unconscious burden.

~

"So you just left him alone?!" Alastor Moody growled at him.

The old man had been growling since before he had made it into the Headmaster's sitting room, and he didn't seem close to stopping any time soon. Finally Starch had had enough and snapped back, with Vampiric cool, "I couldn't find the stomach to watch over him until Snape woke up." Shaking his head trying to either, make the pieces fit, or erase the whole mess. Starch jerked to his feet and stalked to the window.

The cold, clear, Wizards' glass held his weight and did not fog with his breath when he addressed the reflections of the two men behind him. "The male, he does your bidding out of loyalty. Not obligation or compulsion but true Slytherin loyalty. Do you know what that means?" His voice was flat. Emotionless. Some one else's. "It means unthinking, unconditional trust in you Albus Dumbledore. He would let you Crucio him because he would assume that your actions were for the best. Slytherin loyalty is hard won and never lost. He trusts you because of what happened Before."

Starch had no reflection. In his place the two Wizards' ghostly doubles thinned before the rising moon.

"I have Phantom Memories of his first two years here. Some times though, during the day when I'm resting, Lenore says that I dream. She say's that I some times slide from my own dreams into something like a Phantom Dream. Huge tanks filled with life-fluids. Long, featureless, white halls with white doors. Nearly identical children walking in straight rows. I dream of the time Before…" Desperation turned him to face the Wizards. "Tell me of the time Before," he pled. "Tell me why these two were chosen to survive until they were seven years old, and tell me how far you are willing to go for them." The silver moon back-lit him and turned his dapple-gray Satyr hair to white gold with lead spots, and cast his face in shadow. "Being based, at least in part, on Vampires they will require blood. Your blood."

It was Moody, not Dumbledore, who answered him. The belligerence in his voice had abated some, but his thundering heart proved he was not calm. "In Great Britain we focused on Magic based advancements in the sciences and technologies. The Americans though had a different idea. They worked to integrate Magic with Muggle and made advancements, but of the same type that the Muggles were working toward. Due to the Magical augmentations to their equipment they were able to maintain a lead of fifty years or more."

"Alastor," Dumbledore raised a cautioning hand. Moody disregarded his warning and continued.

"The Americans provided the DNA mapping and gene splicing, the Ministry provided the potions designed to control growth and the expertise with charms that allowed us to program ancestral memory."

Staring out the window again, Starch became aware of something fluttering against his pant leg. Glancing down he was mildly annoyed to find that his hand was shaking, they both were. Bringing his hands up, he watched as the shaking became more pronounced. Alastor's words began to filter through. "I'm sending for Lenore." Even his voice was shaking now.

A quick note was sent via floo, a reply came a short time later. Lenore needed a few minutes to close their offices and cancel a dinner date with a friend.

Lenore was a dark crypt when Starch found himself caught in the sun. He needed her now. But even in comparing her to a place of ultimate safety, he'd used a reference from his past with the male.

No conversation happened while the three waited, no one had been consulted about bringing in a fourth person, and no one was interested in arguing with an Ancient who seemed to be on the verge of hysterics or shock.

Lenore had on a pale lavender robe with cream colored piping at the lapels and sleeves. It was obviously one of her office robes, but she somehow made it seem casual.

Taking a few seconds to straighten her robe and hair (and to allow the rooms occupants a chance to see her) she glanced toward Starch.

Traces of nymph (several generations back) lingered in her sea green tinged, pale blonde hair. Her eyes, a soft sea-blue, held a quiet joy that made her unremarkable mid fortyish body seem to glow with youth.

Starch still stood with his back to the room, but he was watching the reflections in the glass. He watched as Lenore offered her hand to Dumbledore.

Her smile was genuine. Starch thought back for a moment, on how her outgoing nature had bothered him in the beginning. Vampires are not generally brimming with excitement at the prospect of meeting new people. People die, and if they don't, there's no real rush to make an introduction. 'She always says meeting a stranger, never happens. It's just being introduced to a friend she hadn't met.'

The little threesome seemed to be getting along fine-

"Hello Headmaster. It would seem that you have quite the reputation to live up to, if you plan to be half as marvelous as the third-hand tales I have heard."

'And the old man has no idea that she's already got him on her side.' The corners of his mouth managed to twitch up, for a fraction of an instant when she gave her opening volley, and sealed the lid on any suspicions that were being harbored against her.

Starch wasn't surprised that she had some sort of comment for the retired Auror too, not so light and a great deal less flattering but some how she now owned the room. Her laugh, a less than melodic but very real sound, brought the confrontation to the level of an informal meeting among friends.

Albus motioned them to the table and conjured a fourth chair. Starch resumed his seat and held out his hand to Lenore. Focusing his thoughts on what had been said, and what his heightened senses had added to his understanding of their emotional states. He was able to make her relive the meeting as though she had been there in his shoes, thanks to her special combination of Telepathics and Psy-touch.

Through the brief handshakes she had shared with Albus and Alastor she was clued in on far more than anyone else knew, and quietly settled into her professional role of mediator and councilor.

Albus offered tea, then vanished the tray. 'Buying some time to get his thoughts straight?'  Starch did not glance at Lenore for confirmation, instead he reach out and took her hand under the table. 'Do you think he will tell us enough to help them?'

He waited for her quiet inner voice.

'It is not so much a question of whether or not they will, as whether or not they can. Dumbledore and Moody were not involved in the technicalities, but they know a great deal about the general things involved in the program.'

He squeezed her fingertips in silent thanks and tried to steel himself against hearing his best friend talked about like he was a specimen in a jar...still.

Albus picked up the narrative, "I was not, technically, on the project. I was more of a liaison. I know that for some time the Ministry had been working on breaking the coding that the Atlantians used when transcribing their scientific work. When the codes were broken the Ministry quickly began translating some of the, more interesting, documents. Most turned out to be trivial experiments or things that were no longer of interest to society. They also found the logs that covered the trans-species eugenics experiments that led to the formation of the Garom race."