Disclaimer: At night Harry Potter must sleep; it is his duty, just as it is his duty to work for JK Rowling in the daytime.

A/N: Have no fear. I am still alive. I'm on full telework status right now, so I'm hunkered down at home, and I bought my supplies three weeks ago. I've just been having a bunch of other issues. First, I got sidetracked for two weeks doing worldbuilding for an original story that I probably won't write in the foreseeable future. Then, I spent a week beta reading a fic that needed a fair amount of work. Not to mention I'm a political junkie, so I was following the America elections all through February. Then some more worldbuilding last week…ugh. Anyway, I'm trying to turn around my work ethic, which is something I need to do double now that I'm working from home.

I hope you're all doing alright and staying safe during the pandemic. As always, thanks for reading.

Edit: To clarify, Czechoslovakia is still unified in the magical world.


Chapter 26: The Sack of Prague

The white wolf ran through the ancient streets of Prague, following the sound of the screaming. The night had only begun, and it was already the worst werewolf battle she'd ever seen. There was spellfire and shouting all around her. The howls were too thick to count. And the crash of destroyed doors and windows, the crunch of bones, the smell of spilt blood on the streets made her almost delirious. It was so disorienting that even with the Wolfsbane Potion, she didn't feel quite human just now.

She must have be crazy to come here. She wouldn't have been able to, except that the word came in to Paris as the sun was still setting, just before she was going to go home and hide in the basement for the night. It was already past nightfall in Prague, and the Czechoslovakian Ministry had immediately put out a call for help all across Europe. The white wolf, still in human form, had thought for a moment, grabbed a white tea towel and her best friend, and they Apparated straight into Prague.

That had been her first mistake. She'd never Apparated into an area where the Moon was already up before. The transformation hit her like a ton of bricks as if to make up for lost time. Her limbs were wrenched so hard she feared they would break, and she was laid out flat on the ground, panting for breath.

Her wolf-friend nuzzled her side and licked her, trying to help her up. She was barely able to move when a wizard ran at her with a shout, wand raised. The white wolf whimpered in pain as she pushed herself up enough to raise the tea towel and wave it over her head. The wizard hesitated, recognising a white flag.

"Neměl bys tu být!"

She didn't know what that meant, but she could guess he was telling her to leave or hide. She didn't listen to him. That was probably her second mistake. She gave him her wand for safekeeping, rolling it to him with a clumsy paw. Then, before he could speak again, she and her wolf-friend ran off towards the fight.

Muggle gunshots rang out, not too far away. The battle was bigger than she'd thought, and muggles with guns were probably even more dangerous than the Aurors. They would only recognise werewolves as animals and would pay no attention to a white flag. But the white wolf would not give up. They ran until they saw three wizards battling as many werewolves. They charged into the fight—a dangerous move in itself that risked them getting cursed. But before the probably-Aurors could cast at them, the white wolf jumped on the nearest werewolf, raking him with her claws. Her wolf-friend charged another. It threw him, but he rolled into it and sprang back up and into the fray again. The third was cut down by spells with its backup preoccupied.

"Faites attention! Plus se combattent!" one of the humans shouted.

Plus? Were there more werewolves fighting for the Light? No time to think about it. The white wolf struggled to hold her opponent down, but one of the humans was soon there with an Incarcerous. She jumped out of the way just in time for her opponent to be tied up and subdued. She looked up at her rescuer. He gave her a half salute before they both ran off again.

She didn't know how long the battle went on. She spent part of the night hiding in a grotto to catch her breath. From the howls and screams, she could tell that it was a drawn-out fight—longer than any battle she'd ever heard of between wizards and werewolves. Animalistic werewolves would either keep attacking or, if they were lucky, would be driven off quickly, but lucid werewolves were far more dangerous. She had to remember that. The other times she'd fought fellow werewolves, they had acted like animals. But now, Greyback's army could act with strategy. If they'd planned for it, they could even use paw signals to coordinate in the fight. They could out-think their enemies.

The white wolf knew she had to be smarter about this. She wouldn't make it through the night if she tried to take down every werewolf she stumbled across. Word might have got around about her and her wolf-friend already. She would have to keep to the shadows and search. She had to save her strength for her real target.

Coming out of the grotto, the two wolves stopped fighting and tracked their quarry, but the white wolf was soon lost. There were too many scents around. Too many different smells at once, and they blended into white noise, plus she wasn't used to tracking like this. But her wolf-friend, who had spent his entire life as a wolf, knew what to do. When they found the trail, he was able to follow it like a single voice in a crowded room. She only hoped they could catch up before moonset.

She did stop once when she saw two werewolves fighting each other. There were others fighting for the Light. She ran towards them, but she stopped. Which one was on her side? She couldn't tell, looking at them. She watched the fight for a minute. It was bloody, and it would be over fast if she didn't intervene, but how?

She made her decision. With some nudging and pointing with her snout, she indicated to her wolf-friend what to do. They both charged into the fight, one on each werewolf, and separated them.

The werewolf whom the white wolf had tackled flailed, but he got his wits about him quickly and stood up, staring at her in surprise. The other one continued snarling and snapping at her wolf-friend as he tried to subdue it. Taking that as the hint she needed, she charged into the fight again, as did the one she'd tackled, and with three of them, they made short work of the dark wolf.

They wasted no time picking up the trail again. It was hard, as it crisscrossed itself so many times, but they could smell that they were getting close. Finally, amid a round of screams and gunshots, they found their quarry and moved in.

This was the white wolf's biggest mistake of the night, and yet once she was there, she couldn't back down.

It was a muggle house. The door had been bashed in from such a large animal taking it at a run. The smell of blood was in the air well before she reached the door. It was all over Prague by now, but it was stifling inside. A muggle man lay dead on the floor, throat ripped out, a firearm of some kind by his side. She could smell Greyback's blood, but evidently, he had just been grazed because he wasn't slowed. Now, he was looming over a terrified muggle woman and her young child huddling in the corner.

The white wolf howled.

Fenrir Greyback turned his head to stared at her with his single eye. If the muggle woman had had a weapon, she might have done something, but there wasn't one within reach. The white wolf shook her head, human-like, and Greyback seemed to take it as a personal affront. In fact, he knew her scent, so he probably would have thought that regardless. The one-eyed wolf, huge and scarred, swung his bulk around and glared at her with a blue-black eye filled with malice, but she was already committed.

He lunged, and she and her wolf-friend charged to meet him.

Lucid as he was, Greyback still fought like an animal. Or rather, an animal that knew her weak points, but that wasn't that different. Even a lizard knew to go for the throat. But if she had any say in it, she wasn't going to give him that chance. She knew she couldn't overpower him head-on. She'd tried that before and been swatted aside like an errant pup. She flanked him, leaning on her smaller size to manoeuvre and slashed at any place she could make him bleed—the thighs, the groin, under the tail.

Her wolf-friend didn't have explicit knowledge of such things, but true wolves hunted prey larger than themselves by going for the haunches anyway, so he made nearly the same move. And then, there was a lot of rolling and yowling and scratching as all three of them tried to find purchase. She felt scratches rake her chest, but from one werewolf on another, they wouldn't be as bad as on a normal human. She was pretty sure she got Greyback on the flank and hind leg, too, but she couldn't get close to one of the critical arteries.

She heard a yelp as her wolf-friend was thrown off and smacked against the wall. Before she could react, Greyback knocked her down with a foreleg kick to her shoulder. He stood over her, jaws wide and dripping with saliva. She was sure this was it, but he didn't kill her. He held her by the neck, gently—just enough to control her. He pushed her down, twisting his jaws to force her to go where he wanted her. She whined and struggled, but she couldn't break free of his jaws. He shoved her with a paw and made her roll, then pushed her down hard on her stomach. She struggled harder, and his jaws eased, but to no avail as he held her down with a massive paw on her back. He held her in place as he twisted himself behind her, bending her to his will, trying to force her to present herself to him…

Then, her wolf friend slammed into Greyback's side, rolling him off of her. The white wolf pushed to her feet and made a split-second decision. She ran the other way and kicked the gun toward the muggle woman. Then, she turned and leaped at Greyback again.

Now, she had a different goal: make him hold still. Make him show his chest to the woman if she could. She could only hope her wolf-friend wouldn't get in the way. She leapt on top of Greyback before he could land a killing blow on her wolf-friend. They scrambled and scratched, but she had a different target now. She fought for purchase on his back, rolling him over and grabbing him by the hackles. Just a little longer. She had to give the muggle a clear shot…

BOOM!

Silence.

Ears ringing.

Pain.

She'd never known how loud muggle guns were up close, and to a wolf's ears, it was even worse. How could hunting dogs do it? She felt like her ears were bleeding. She couldn't hear anything despite the noise of battle around them, and she didn't know up from down as she scrabbled for footing. As she did, a sharp pain shot up her body that nearly knocked her flat on her stomach. She smelt fresh blood—her own. If she had her bearings right, the bullet had ripped straight through Greyback's burly shoulder and kept going, hitting her in the side somewhere around her liver. She just got herself oriented to see what was going on when—

BOOM!

The only noise to cut through her ringing ears. The shot missed, aimed at Greyback's retreating back, but he was limping out of the house. If they were lucky, someone else would get him before the night was over.

But then, she looked back and saw the muggle woman still sighting the gun on her and her wolf-friend. The white wolf froze and tried to make herself look nonthreatening. She let out a low woof to indicate to her friend to copy her. Normal dog body language didn't come as naturally to her on Wolfsbane Potion, but she did her best, lowering herself down to rest her chin on the floor, pulling her ears back and whining. But she was caught between averting her eyes and trying to give the woman puppy-dog eyes, so she didn't think it looked right.

There was a tense moment. Her hearing was starting to come back. She could hear the child crying. Slowly, the woman lowered the gun.

"Jděte."

The two wolves stared at her.

She waved her arm toward the door. "Jděte!"

They ran.


Remus Lupin was finally able to survey the scene about two hours after sunrise, having had to wait for the Moon to go down in Paris and then to find out what had happened and assemble a team. A lot of Aurors had been on site, including British and French ones, but the communications lines back to Paris were spotty in a situation like this.

"How bad is it?" he asked the Aurors.

"Bad, Deputy Director," Auror Karasu said. "The victims number in the hundreds. We got a fair few of Greyback's werewolves, but we were late to the party. They bit dozens before anyone besides the locals showed up…I'm sorry. We thought they would attack in Germany."

Remus sighed and shook his head: "No, I should have seen it too, Auror Karasu. I'm the one who said it: the front is fuzzy and defined more by language than politics. Magical Bohemia and Silesia are still mostly German, and that puts them in Durmstrang's sphere of influence. Voldemort will want to get them under his thumb directly if he can. We should have widened the watch area."

Prague was a mess. Greyback's army had attacked all over the city, spreading out to get more werewolves past the patrols—in and around the magical quarter, muggle apartment buildings, townhouses, even some in the historic district. Some buildings were burnt, possibly by panicking wizards. A lot were smashed in. A few were collapsed by overzealous Aurors fighting the werewolves. As they walked down the street, Remus saw muggles and wizards alike lying along the sides. More bodies than he cared to remember. Healers rushed around, trying to help the ones who were still alive.

"I can probably guess the answer," he said, "but what are the prospects for finding all the victims?"

"Before the next full moon? Basically zero," Karasu said. "We're going to have feral werewolves wandering Prague next month, including ones who don't know they're infected and don't take precautions. We're going to put out a story about a rabies outbreak in the muggle press, but even then, we won't get all of them. The best we can do is make sure the number we miss is manageable. We can't afford to have a werewolf population this large uncontained, no offence."

"None taken. I quite agree," Remus said. "But that's not the real problem. The real problem will be that we'll be trying to do that while Greyback inevitably makes another strike. Although I suppose that's an international coordination matter." And of course, what he both hoped for and feared was the ICW organising a force against Greyback specifically—hoped for because the monster needed to be stopped, and feared because he'd seen the net cast too wide against werewolves too many times in his life.

He was supposed to be getting something out of this tour, but he wasn't sure why he was here except that he felt he needed to see it firsthand. In theory, he should be figuring out something about Greyback's tactics—how he operated with such a large force and with Wolfsbane Potion, but forensics weren't in his wheelhouse.

They were walking through one of the more damaged sections when there was a shout in German, followed by one in English, then a call for a Healer. Remus hurried to see the source of the commotion, but he stopped dead when he saw it.

A young woman with white hair was staggering out of the wreckage of one of the burnt-out buildings. She was dressed in rags and had a bloody bandage wrapped around her middle, and she looked like she was struggling to stay standing. By her side, leaning against her to hold her up, was a slate-grey wolf. Since the Sun was up, it was clear this was a true wolf, even apart from the other markers. Its eyes seemed to be mismatched, though—one blue and one gold. Remus recognised both of them at once.

"My God! Chiara!"

He rushed to her side and took hold of her arm to support her. The moment he did, her eyes met his and flashed with recognition, and her legs collapsed from under her.

The wolf immediately nosed in to support her as Remus helped her over to the side of the road where a Healer was waiting with a conjured cot. Karasu had his wand out pointed warily at the wolf, but he stayed out of the Healer's way.

"Remus Lupin," Chiara said weakly. "I can't believe it. I heard you were a Deputy Director, now."

"Yes, and I heard you were staying in Paris, Chiara," he chided her.

"You know this woman?" Karasu asked.

"Yes, this is Chiara Lobosca. I've met her a few times before."

"Lobosca?" one of the French Aurors said, probably recognising the Italian name. "One of Greyback's?"

"No, no," Chiara said. "I was registered in England. I went to Hogwarts."

"Chiara was bitten as a child, like me," Remus explained. "We met when she was in her fifth year at Hogwarts, and more recently, she worked for Cor Humanum back home."

"Oh, you're that Lobosca?" Karasu remembered. "My daughter mentioned you, but I'm guessing she didn't know you were a werewolf?"

"No, I don't think so," Chiara said. "Only Maya and Penny did."

"Yes," that sounds right," Remus said, "and this handsome fellow…" he patted the wolf on the head as he stood watch beside the young woman.

"This is my best friend, Borf," Chiara said with a broad smile.

"Borf?" Karasu said.

The wolf barked. That was odd in itself; barking was normally puppy behaviour. But this one did and made a noise that sounded suspiciously like Borf! The Aurors laughed despite the situation.

"Healer Augustus Pye, Aurors," the Healer introduced himself absently as he began scanning Chiara. "What happened to you?"

"I—I got shot," she admitted. "Do you know about—"

"Of course. You know me, Chiara," Pye said quickly. "I took a muggle paramedic course. "I know about gunshot wounds."

"A muggle shot you?" Karasu said in horror.

"Well, she really shot Greyback, but I was behind him," Chiara told them.

Remus groaned. "Oh, Chiara. You tried to fight Greyback again?"

"Again?" Karasu yelped.

"I had to do something, Remus," she insisted. "And I had Borf to help me this time."

He sighed. "I'm proud that some of my fellow werewolves stood for the right side, but trying to face Greyback head on is foolhardy at best. You're going to get yourself killed doing that." Chiara looked unrepentant. "I don't supposed you got him?"

Her face fell: "No. He was limping, but he got away."

"You had some treatment before we arrived, Chiara," Healer Pye observed. "What happened?"

"Oh. Well, one of the Aurors saw I was fighting with them. There were other werewolves fighting against Greyback…" She looked around at the group, and Remus nodded. He'd seen evidence of that. "The Auror came up and to me and got the bullet out—and made sure I wasn't going to bleed out. But he said he couldn't heal it right while I was still a wolf, so he just bandaged it. And then I had to redo the bandages after moonset, but I didn't have my wand."

Luckily, a muggle gunshot wound wasn't difficult to heal in the magical world if it didn't kill quickly, and Pye soon patched Chiara up. She stood steadily on her feet, but Remus asked her to stay close to them to avoid further trouble.

"So what's his story?" Karasu said, pointing at Borf.

"I've known him since he was just a puppy," Chiara said. "He's a werewolf too, and he seemed to understand what I was going through, so he's always been there to help me out."

"A werewolf? He can't be a werewolf. He'd have changed back to human form."

"He's not, by the official definition, Auror Karasu," Remus explained. "Borf is a child of werewolves."

"Er…how does that work, exactly?"

"If two werewolves mate during the full moon," Chiara said, "they produce cubs who are true wolves—not aggressive or contagious or anything. They are smarter than other wolves, though. Dumbledore released a pack of them in the Forbidden Forest when I was a student."

"Wait, wait," Karasu said. "Werewolves mating during the full moon. "But doesn't that mean…"

"That a female werewolf will spend two months in human form pregnant with puppies? Yeah," Chiara said seriously. "Luckily, I've managed to avoid that, myself, but without Wolfsbane Potion, it might have been different."

A thought struck Remus. "Come to think of it, that's something we might want to watch for in muggle hospitals," he said. "Not this month, but in the coming months for the people who slip through the cracks. Victims who don't know to take precautions are the most likely to fall victim to that, too."

Karasu winced and made a note of that. A few minutes later, Healer Pye cleared Chiara to go, although he told her to take it easy for a while. With that sorted, Remus offered to escort her back to their field headquarters. She followed after him and Karasu, Borf staying close by her side.

"We've haven't had much chance to talk, Remus, even when I was at Cor Humanum," she said as they walked. "I even feel like I was the last to know about you getting together with Tonks."

Remus blushed, remembering that Tonks had been Chiara's roommate when they were in school. "Er, yeah…about that. We broke up. It was fun, but we didn't have much in common."

"Oh. Really? That's too bad. I thought you were good together. She got you out of your shell, you know?"

"Maybe…Like I said, it was fun—"

"I hope you didn't let your self-esteem get the better of you like when we first met."

"No, no, it was nothing like that," he protested. "We just grew apart. In fact, I heard a rumour she went out with a Veela recently."

Auror Karasu gave them a funny look. "When you first met when you were a student in my daughter's year, Miss Lobosca?" he said. "I think I'm missing some context, here."

Remus sighed. He looked at Chiara hesitantly, and when she didn't object, he explained, "For a short time, Chiara gave me her Wolfsbane Potions while she was a student. But when I found out they were her only supply, I refused."

She scoffed at him: "You didn't just refuse, Remus. You were so scared of being found out that you ran away to the muggle world and shut yourself off from wizardkind. I didn't see you for years."

"And I'm sorry about that," he said. "Sirius has knocked some sense into me over the past few years."

"Maybe…" she echoed. "If you're telling the truth about Tonks."

He rolled his eyes: "Are you going to check?"

"I might. My point is, you need to stop running."

"I have!" he protested. "I've been very involved ever since we started Cor Humanum, and now the Ministry—"

"Remus Lupin," she cut him off. "There are other ways of running from your problems than disappearing to the muggle world. I should know. I did enough of it myself when I was younger."

He looked down at her. "I suppose you're right," he conceded.


The reaction to Fenrir Greyback's latest attack was depressingly predictable in the sundry government halls of Europe.

"The werewolf population of Western Europe has doubled in the last few months, and the numbers are still going to go up because we can't keep track of them all!"

"This isn't sustainable. If it goes much longer, the Ministries will start declaring open season on werewolves."

"Italy and Yugoslavia are closing their borders with Austria and Switzerland. They want no part in this mess."

"Greyback's rampage is threatening the Statute of Secrecy already! The muggles are starting to get suspicious of all the full moon attacks."

"The ICW Task Force's only concern right now should be putting down Greyback once and for all. His threat is far greater than anything coming out of Britain."

A lot of noise—and a lot of things to keep track of, to be sure. Not all of the political movement was predictable, but that was secondary. While the ICW was squabbling, and the Ministries were panicking, the real power players of Europe were meeting in a Paris penthouse…or at least that was what Draco Malfoy hoped.

"Would Monsieur like some tea?" the house elf asked in French.

"No," Umberto Zabini said. "I'll take some espresso if you have any. The real stuff. Not that American swill the muggles keep importing."

This meeting hadn't been easy to set up on such short notice, but Draco needed money, and he needed it faster than he thought. He had even had to stoop to renting a house elf, since Father still had Kreacher and most of the family fortune. Without that access, he would have to fall back on the tried and true Malfoy way: peddling in influence and connections, persuading people to his side with his political savvy—or his and Mother's, rather, since no one would take a sixteen-year-old boy seriously on his own.

Blaise's uncle was part of that. He still wielded a lot of influence in magical Italy, and he could get money from his sister easier than Draco could from Father. Next in the room was his mother's cousin, Reynard Rosier, who didn't have as much in the way of resources, but did have loyalty. Then, in a move that surprised even himself, he'd convinced the brilliant (and beautiful) alchemy prodigy Aurélie Dumont to visit. Next, there was a very distinguished pureblood wizard of Senegalese descent named Jibril Kama, who had successfully rebuilt his House from near-extinction. Beside him (despite their obvious rivalry) was Celeste Tremblay, the heir to the extinct French Lestrange line.

Influencers all. At the moment, they were just the five of them, plus himself and Mother. There were only a handful of others Brits who thought as he did and had got out of Britain during the battle. And there were no Malfoys in France. His ancestor, Armand, had not kept his birth name, and you didn't get a name like Malfoy by being well liked. But it was enough to start a network.

"Thank you all for coming," Draco said when they were settled in. "I know these are trying times, even here in France, so I appreciate you joining me today."

"It's a pleasure, Monsieur Malfoy," Aurélie Dumont replied in quite good English, and he was glad for it. Addressing the group in English—and not apologetically, either—was a calculated move, so Mother said. It showed he was confident enough to exert control over the discussion, and his guests would be required by courtesy to follow suit.

"I am happy to lend you my house's aid, Cousin," Rosier said. He looked around the room. "And to be in such distinguished company. You are well, Celeste, I hope."

"Of course, Reynard," the woman said, "and it is a pleasure to meet you at last, Monsieur Malfoy. It's a pity your father couldn't join us. We've had dealings before, of course."

Draco nodded, though he had an uneasy feeling about her. Not like Aunt Bellatrix—more like a snake waiting to strike. Like Father at his best. "Father and I are furthering our family in our own ways, Madame Tremblay," he said diplomatically, which she accepted—for the moment.

Jibril Kama was polite enough, but he scanned the room stiffly. "I confess, Monsieur Malfoy, I am unsure why I am here," he said. "The politics of your country do not fully carry over, but the fact is my family does not…run in the same circles as these others, as you say." His gaze lingered on Madame Tremblay.

"That fact is the reason I invited you here, Monsieur Kama," Draco replied. "Your presence here, and that of Mademoiselle Dumont, help to shake up a circle that otherwise might mirror the ossified ones that have formed in Britain. Both I and Mother agree that a different approach is needed to respond to the current crisis."

"Current crisis?" Zabini spoke up. "Do you mean occupied Britain or Greyback's rampage?"

"Yes," he replied, putting a hint of condescension into it, "but for the moment, Greyback is our primary concern."

"As it should be," Tremblay sneered. "Why they haven't just put him down yet—"

"It isn't for lack of trying, Madame Tremblay," Kama said coolly.

"A few skilled wands that don't have as many quibbles as the Ministries of Europe could take care of the problem," Zabini insisted.

Kama scoffed at him. "Don't be ridiculous, Zabini," he said, and Zabini bristled at the disrespect. "The Aurors certainly didn't have any quibbles about killing the werewolves who attacked Prague."

"Of course they didn't in the middle of a battle. But if the Ministries had been more proactive in taking care of the problem before it got to this point, we wouldn't have to worry about such things. We might not have to worry about werewolves at all."

Draco winced, and Kama looked ready to rise from his seat at that remark, but luckily, Aurélie Dumont spoke up to calm them down.

"Oh, have a heart, Don Zabini," she said. "You know most werewolves are victims themselves, and they hate monsters like Greyback just as much as the rest of us. Why, some of them were fighting on the side of the Aurors in Prague."

Draco smiled at her. "Quite so," he said. "Times are changing with regard to werewolves, you know. In fact, I studied under a werewolf at Hogwarts—a man I oppose politically, but he remains one of Greyback's staunchest enemies. And he was a competent teacher, although since his predecessor was a ghost who couldn't remember what year it was, that's not saying much."

Dumont giggled self-consciously, and he was pleased to see it got derisive chuckles from the rest of the group. Good. He didn't want to seem too friendly with Lupin.

"That may be, but you can hardly dispute that a victim newly bitten would be better off put out of their misery," Zabini went on. "It's a—"

"I think quite a lot of people would dispute that," Kama cut him off.

"It's a brutal existence under the best of circumstances," he spoke over him. "Destructive to the body, and if untreated, even more destructive to the mind. And every werewolf whether they follow Greyback or not is a pawn in his scheme of world domination. It would be a kindness to them, no doubt about that. If the Ministries of Europe had the wherewithal to do what was necessary in daylight—"

"That will do, Umberto."

The room stopped. That was Mother who had spoken up, and she'd hardly had to raise her voice. She had that presence, like her sisters had—not to mention the ability to get away with using Don Zabini's first name. "If you believe you can assemble a group of followers and take on Greyback yourself, be my guest. But that is not why we're here."

Zabini seethed, but he stayed seated.

"Thank you, Mother," Draco said. "And Don Zabini, I hope we don't part today on a hostile note. I invited you here today because I value your nephew's friendship, even though we've gone our separate ways. But as my mother says, this isn't why we are here. Our position is to figure out what happens after Greyback is gone, as I suspect he will be soon."

"Pfft. You'll be lucky," he grumbled.

"Yes, you're assuming a lot, Monsieur Malfoy," Tremblay agreed. "If we suffer another night like Prague, there will be little choice but to move into open warfare as Don Zabini suggests."

"Then you fail to appreciate the layout of the game board, Madame Tremblay," Draco said. "I am confident that we will not have another night like Prague." Which was precisely his problem, though he didn't say that aloud. He wasn't expecting to have to move this fast. It had been only a month and a half since the fall of Britain, and the war was already on the verge of going continent-wide. But he could see the truth that Madame Tremblay really should have: Greyback was a distraction—a threat necessitating a full-scale ICW response and stirring up anti-werewolf sentiment in "light" countries whilst allowing the Dark Lord himself to extend his influence behind the scenes—a fact that was plain to anyone besides Greyback himself.

The wolf probably thought he could succeed and spread lycanthropy beyond the ICW's ability to contain it, but the Dark Lord would never allow that, and sooner or later, the war would come back around to him. Then, the question was, how could the House of Malfoy profit from this war? Or at the very least, how could he ensure they came out the other side of it still on top?

Kama shook his head: "Much as I hate to agree with Madame Tremblay, she has a point, Monsieur Malfoy. In fact, I'm not convinced we can hold containment now. My contacts at the Ministry say the muggles in Prague are growing suspicious that the 'rabies outbreak' was a disease-based terrorist attack or some other government cover-up. Rabies doesn't spread like that."

Zabini pointed at him decisively. "HA! And its the same problem with our kind," he said. "Wizards are fleeing Germany, Switzerland, and Austria into Italy, Hungary, and Yugoslavia, despite the border closings. They have no roots there; they're slipping in wherever they fit, and if Greyback's as smart as everyone says, he could put agents among them. We can't rely on containment in our world, either."

"And again, we are getting off topic," Draco said in a bored tone that was a little too forced. "Let the Ministries worry about war strategies and tactics. Join them if you like, but here, let us worry about our own means."

"Fine, then, Cousin," Rosier said. "If we are here to discuss the game of politics and business, what do you think we should be doing?"

"Simple. Potter is lobbying for an international effort to find a cure for lycanthropy…I think we should support it," Draco said.

That shocked everyone except Mother and Dumont. Don Zabini was the angriest about it: "Monsieur Malfoy, what are you thinking? Potter is one of the leaders against the Dark Lord. You want to throw your lot in with him? And the public sentiment! You can try to ignore it, but more and more people simply want to see the werewolves exterminated."

"And wouldn't a cure do that, Don Zabini?" Draco said. He looked around the room. "I don't think anyone doesn't want to see werewolves got rid of who isn't one themselves. We just disagree on how to do it. Madamoiselle Dumont, do you think you could contribute to the search?"

Aurélie Dumont smiled. "If I had enough funding, I think I could help," she said.

Madame Tremblay scoffed at the idea: "This is ridiculous. Think of the situation, Monsieur Malfoy. After Prague, why should I spend my political capital on this instead of working on a direct assault on Greyback's army?"

"Everyone is calling for an assault to take down Greyback's army, Madame Tremblay," Draco drawled. "I'm not saying we should oppose it. By all means, put him down as soon as possible. But it means there's little to gain by supporting it, while if the ICW survives the war, you will have earned political goodwill by supporting the 'humanitarian' option as well."

"And if it doesn't?" she said.

Mother replied for him with an icy determination: "In that case, Celeste, this conversation will be moot, don't you think?"

"I am merely reading the ways the winds are blowing," Tremblay replied smoothly. "How can we ensure that we are on the winning side?"

That was the problem, Draco thought. For him and Mother, there was little choice. If they could stop the Dark Lord's advance and secure a peace, well, he wouldn't complain. That didn't much seem in the Dark Lord's character, though. On the other hand, if the Dark Lord took over Europe, there would be no place for the two of them there. If he was allowed back into the Death Eaters, he would be starting on the bottom rung. No, Abraxas Malfoy had allied with Albus Dumbledore himself against Grindelwald because Grindelwald was advocating for ending the Statute of Secrecy, and Draco would have to be willing to do the same with Potter. The Dark Lord of London was a tyrant who didn't share power, and the House of Malfoy could not hold its rightful place in that system.

"In the present climate, we may not have the luxury of waiting to choose the winning side," he said. "We need to be proactive enough to ensure our side wins."

"And which side is that, Monsieur Malfoy?" Tremblay said.

"Our own, of course!" Rosier said before Draco could reply, and all of them laughed. Wise words, that.

"But Madame Tremblay has a point," Zabini said. "What about our agendas? Purity of blood? Preservation of our culture?"

"That we should be more cautious about," Mother chided, "first because the people in this room probably have differing opinions on the matter, and second because we are currently dealing with a greater threat. For the long term, we ought to focus on ensuring we have the influence to act within the Ministry before we actually try it."

"And if we should find ourselves working against one another at that point?"

"Then, Don Zabini," Draco said, knowing he was showing his true colours, "we do what we always must do. We must either part company or work to find a middle ground."