Disclaimer: There is a deepness in the sky of Harry Potter, and it extends to JK Rowling.

A/N: Serious question: I feel like this story has lately explored darker and more mature content than my others have. Even though I'm not going anywhere near anything explicit, I've delved deeper into, for example, the depredations of people like Greyback and Lockhart, and La Pantera's blood sacrifices. Given recent chapters, do you think the story's rating should increase? Or am I just being overly cautious here?


Chapter 27: Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

It was mid-August when Severus Snape finally returned to the Order. As Dumbledore had hoped, Voldemort was choosing to maintain his game of spies and double agents. It was a finer line than ever for Severus, since by sending him back and forth across the Channel, both men were all but admitting the game to each other. The trick, of course, was that both men thought they had ironclad evidence of Severus's loyalty—Voldemort through his superhuman powers of Legilimency and Dumbledore through the man's Patronus.

"Harry," Sirius said, stopping his godson before they entered the first meeting in months that Snape attended. "Are you sure you trust Snape? I mean really sure? I mean, he's always been really sketchy, and the things he's gone along with since Britain fell—done, by some of the reports…"

"Padfoot, really, I trust Dumbledore's judgement," Remus protested before Harry could answer. He waved for Chiara Lobosca to go in ahead of him, as she had now joined the Order.

"I trust that Dumbledore always tries to see the best in people," Sirius countered, "even when it's not such a good idea."

"Sirius…"

"It's fine, Remus," Harry cut in. "But Sirius, yes, I trust Snape. It's not my secret to tell why, but after Voldemort came back he told me…well, probably the same thing he told Dumbledore. If you saw it, you'd be convinced, too."

Sirius looked like he wanted to protest—maybe even question Harry's memory, but he couldn't make a good argument. Harry could resist Legilimency and Imperius, and while he might be caught by surprise by a Memory Charm, Dumbledore wouldn't be. "Alright, then," he conceded, and then went inside.

"Thank you for returning to us, Severus," Dumbledore said as he began the meeting. "We greatly appreciate your continued sacrifice." Snape replied only with his usual scowl. "I will take a full report from you later, but first, I believe you have some information with the Order as a whole."

"Yes, Dumbledore," Snape replied. He looked around the group. "I'm sure it will…cheer you to know that I have successfully made contact with Hagrid."

Gasps and cheers filled the conference room. Hagrid hadn't been heard from since the night of the battle, and many of them were beginning to fear the worst.

"Hagrid!" Sirius said. "That's great! How is he?"

"Alive," said Snape, "as is his brother, which I find astonishing given how large a target they both are. If the average Death Eater were more intelligent than a Knockturn Alley drunkard, they both would have fallen to the Killing Curse that night."

"Well, thank Merlin they aren't, then."

"Indeed. However, I gather that Hagrid was injured during the battle. He tried to hide how seriously and said he is ready and willing to fight, but they are currently hiding in the forest, and their mobility is limited by the Death Eater patrols." Which made sense; since Hagrid could neither fly nor Apparate, they would have to go on foot.

Other than that, there wasn't a lot of strategic information coming out of Britain at the moment, but Snape was able to give an unvarnished report of the political situation there, and it was…brilliant, the way they were reorganising things. And horrifying. Between Lockhart's PR savvy and Voldemort's newfound (according to the veterans) pragmatism, they were putting together a whole new social order, from Hogwarts to the Ministry to the general public.

The restructuring of Hogwarts alone was offensive to everyone present. Barty Crouch Jr would be Headmaster, and that was just the start, but there was very little we could do about that now. The more immediate issue to the war was, of course, Fenrir Greyback. And getting information on him somehow was even more difficult.

"The Dark Lord does not fully trust the information he receives from Greyback," Snape reported. "Short of coming to the continent and Legilimizing him personally, he is forced to rely on his agents in the field. He may have information through divination, but that isn't fully reliable either."

"Fortunately," said Dumbledore, "there was one person we could convincingly send to infiltrate Greyback's army—at great personal risk, I might add."

"We do? Who is it?" Hermione asked before she caught herself and covered her mouth with her hand. "Sorry."

Dumbledore answered as if it were a perfectly reasonable question: "It would be best if their identity remained a secret, not least because they are still there. We anticipated that Greyback would be smart enough to not let them get a message out, but Master Coyote devised a most ingenious way for them to communicate with us undetected."

Remus and Chiara did know who it was, and he thought Harry might guess it if he tried: Ellen Towler, one of Greyback's victims in his attack on Hogwarts. She hadn't been an ally to him until now, but her brother had joined the Death Eaters, and that was supposedly enough to gain a foothold. Though even that had been a hard sell—alone, broken, dejected by her brother's decision, and seemingly separated from her boyfriend over it. Personally, Remus would have advised her against the whole thing, but she had insisted and had apparently come through.

"So, do we know what the bastard's doing next?" Mad-Eye Moody demanded.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, "On the next full Moon, Greyback means to attack Czarnoksiesto School of Magic in Poland."

"What?"

"But that's mad!"

"Has he lost it?"

"Albus, attacking another magical school without Death Eater backup?" said Kingsley Shacklebolt. "And he's only collected a fraction of his victims from Prague."

"He attacked Hogwarts with a lot less," Harry pointed out. "I'm guessing he hasn't given up his dream of making a werewolf army out of students."

"But Harry, the next full moon is before the school year starts," said Hermione.

Chiara shook her head: "It's not about the students. And I don't know if he could take the castle while school is in session, but right now, I don't think he wants more recruits. He wants a castle."

"We think he wants to pull a Voldemort and take over a country of his own," Remus explained. "A magical school that's empty for the summer would be a prime target for that."

"And if he takes it over, he'll have an even stronger base to stage more attacks from," Sirius growled.

"Oh. That's bad," Harry said.

No one spoke for a minute. Harry's parents had been watching, but they hadn't said anything, as this didn't concern their children directly, and they were well out of their depth even after all this time. But finally, Dan spoke up: "So what's the plan? If they're going after more schools, I want to know, and I don't think the Order can take on a whole army, even when they're in wolf form."

Moody snorted: "Of course we can't. This is above our pay grade. We'll need the ICW for this—if we can trust them to keep their yaps shut."

"I'll talk to Fudge about it right away," Remus said. "Work on a way to organise an operation to catch them at the school without tipping Greyback off. I don't think any other schools are at risk for now, but protecting this one is a big deal. And if we're lucky…maybe we can finally get him this time."


"Artemis," Voldemort said, "your mission was successful, I take it?"

"Yes, my Lord," Artemis Crouch replied. "The enemy believe they have learnt the location of Greyback's next attack by their own subterfuge. Their ruse was obvious to me, but it was the sort of thing that strokes Greyback's ego, so he believed it. I ensured the correct information got to them."

"Excellent. Regrettably, Fenrir has outlived his usefulness. Werewolf shock troops are a valuable resource, but not when commanded by a mindless butcher…Nonetheless, his plan for a werewolf-ruled country is interesting and could be useful…if it were ruled by someone who would manage their numbers appropriately…someone whose loyalty was assured…" He nodded meaningfully to her, his eyes on her left arm.

Artemis looked down at her arm where her Dark Mark was covered by her sleeve, then back up at the Dark Lord. The message was clear, though he seemed to be gauging her response. "That would be indeed be useful, my Lord," she said. "As for myself, I would not want to leave Barty, but if you command it, I would join in the effort."

The Dark Lord smirked a bit. "If that is your wish, Artemis, then find me a leader from Greyback's pack whom you would trust, and I will grant you the rank of Ambassador, instead."

"It will be done, my Lord."


The night of the twenty-seventh of August was probably the largest undercover ICW operation since the fall of Grindelwald. It was certainly the largest in Europe. The latest word was that Greyback was still preparing to mob Czarnoksiesto Castle, and he would be running straight into a trap. Or that was the hope. No plan ever survived contact with the enemy, after all.

Where Prague had been a chaotic rush of whomever was available, they were lying in wait in formation here. Greyback was attacking from downwind, which was troublesome, but they'd done their best to deal with that. Many of the werewolves who had fought for the Light in Prague were here, including Remus and Chiara, as were a few people like Sirius who had useful Animagus forms. Harry would have come if they'd let him, but everyone had vetoed that idea. Edward Grayson's Tasmanian tiger was around somewhere too, but Remus was sticking close to Sirius and the other werewolves.

"Are you ready for this, Chiara?" he asked.

She wasn't, not really. He wasn't sure he was, either, but he could smell her unease, and he noticed a small tremor. But she answered him, "Yes. As I'm going to be, anyway."

"You could have stayed with the Healers," he pointed out. Probably should have, tactically.

"They have what they need," she said. "Besides, I have unfinished business with Greyback."

And that's the kind of thinking that gets you killed, Remus thought, though he hesitated from saying it because part of him couldn't help thinking it himself. He decided on answering, "If you say so. Borf?"

"Borf!" the wolf barked.

Chiara smiled at him: "He always says that." Though both of them understood wolf speech pretty well by now and could gauge his mood.

"Of course. Padfoot?"

"Yeah, I'm ready, Moony," Sirius said. "Let's get that son of a…hmm, wrong metaphor for the present company."

Remus groaned and pressed a hand against his forehead: "And you wonder why James suggested you stay a dog."

"Hey! James loved my jokes."

Remus was about to retort when they were interrupted by the warning echoing across the grounds is half a dozen languages: "Moonrise, three minutes!"

That was the final warning to get into position now, given the time it took the Moon to cross the horizon. Remus could already feel the pressure in his head and the crackling in his back starting. He nodded to Sirius, who shifted to dog form at once. No need to take risks even with Wolfsbane Potion. Remus and Chiara lay down prone on the ground as the change began to take them.

Three minutes later, it hit full force, and one minute after that, they heard the chorus of howls, sending shivers down the spines of even the most experienced veterans.

The line of werewolves that had joined the Aurors stood up, but, per their instructions, they kept silent and waited. It took a while, and they heard intermittent howls in the meantime, but as they stood there, slavering wolves began to stalk out of the forest, creeping up toward the castle. There were hundreds of them, both from Prague and from Greyback's other recruiting efforts. Greyback was leading the way. The huge, one-eyed wolf moved unhurriedly, as a predator who knows he has an easy kill. He'd been expecting to find a school guarded only by the teaching staff and perhaps a few Aurors—still expected it, in fact.

He wasn't expecting a force of Aurors equal to his own leaping up from the grass and the battlements and a call of "Ready…cast!" echoing across the grounds. Curses sailed over the battlefield like rockets, falling among the attacking wolves. Greyback let loose a sound that was half-howl and half-growl, and he broke into a run.

A howl came from the other side of the field, and the line of "traitor" werewolves charged forth against him. No fancy manoeuvring here; their numbers were too small and Greyback's army too agile to try flanking them. The two packs collided head-on in a flurry of bites, scratches, and yelps. A certain white wolf made a charge straight for Greyback, but she was blocked by another wolf she didn't know. He jumped on top of her, and they rolled, kicking and scratching, but Borf soon jumped on top of him and pushed him off of her.

Moony recognised a wolf whom he knew by scent from the last war, though he didn't know his name. A veteran of Greyback's pack. Moony nudged Padfoot to follow him and ran at that one, and they bounded into the enemy lines.

Greyback's army weren't especially disciplined. Many of them had never been in a fight before, and while Greyback was cunning, he couldn't do that much to instill battle tactics in his followers in human form. But they did seem to have each other's backs. As Moony and Padfoot ran at their quarry, two more werewolves stepped in to help him.

What followed next was a plain dogfight—the kind of spectacle that would get you arrested if true dogs were involved. It was nothing like a duel and barely even resembled muggle fighting. Three on two weren't great odds, and even Padfoot could barely tell what was going on with all the snarling, kicking, and snapping around him. He managed to avoid or hold off most of the attacks that would draw blood, but he could tell he was going to have bruises in the morning.

The fight only let up when Chiara and Borf jumped in and pushed their attackers off them, knocking one out of commission and injuring the others. But the pair only stayed long enough to make sure they had the situation under control before moving on to other targets.

That was their problem. While they had a lot of Aurors, there weren't so many werewolves fighting with them. The lines were already breaking down, letting more of the enemy through. The ones on the battlements were safer, though even they couldn't stop some of the werewolves from coming after them through the castle. The ones on the grounds were even less lucky, and human screams joined the snarling and snapping as people were bitten and killed. As the battle lines disintegrated, some of them ran or flew away, while others clustered into tight knots able to defend themselves from all sides.

Padfoot looked around, getting his bearings again, and Moony did the same. They spotted Greyback before long. He was leading a small pack who seemed to be trying to get out of the pack to go after the Aurors, threatening to tear through the lines completely. They ran in that direction, even though they knew it would be too late. Greyback's pack mauled three Aurors and ran past the defenders.

Luckily, the Light still had one ace left up their sleeve. Suddenly, Edward Grayson was among them, and the man was jumping about like a demon, changing to human form mid-leap to snap off a wandless curse and changing back into a Tasmanian tiger before he hit the ground. Sirius had never seen an Animagus that fast before, and he had seen some really experienced ones. The Tasmanian tiger was small—only half the size of a wolf and with weak jaws, but he was preternaturally quick in that form and made his strikes count. With Greyback pinned for the moment, Padfoot and Moony jumped back into the main fight.

The battle went on for a long time. Wolves on both sides would retreat and lick their wounds, the Aurors providing what healing they could. Padfoot had lost track of Moony somewhere along the line. He spun around, arching his back against attackers as he scanned the scene for Chiara's distinctive white fur, hoping the two of them were close together. Failing that, he could at least try to go after Greyback himself again. He owed his friend that much.

Finally, he did see them. He didn't know what all had happened since he last saw Moony, but now, he and Greyback were squaring off against each other, circling, looking for an opening…

They both charged at once. Greyback and Moony collided, kicking with their forelegs and trying to bite each other's throats. Padfoot ran to his friend's aid, but another wolf jumped between them and tackled him. He went flying off the side and shook himself as he stood, but the wolf was practically on top of him. He had no idea who it was; it might have been a new recruit who didn't have any choice in the matter, but right now, it was most definitely trying to kill him.

Padfoot and the wolf collided, biting and scratching. For a moment, he got himself on top, but they rolled again, and they landed locked in struggle, with the wolf's teeth raking Padfoot's throat and Padfoot's claw's against the base of the wolf's skull, taking all his strength to hold him back.

He heard a whining that was unmistakably Moony and tried to twist his head far enough to see. Moony was losing to Greyback, shoved down to the ground with the larger wolf trying to break his neck. Greyback still had to deal with other attackers, so he couldn't quite land the killing blow, but it wouldn't take long. Padfoot pushed harder, his heart racing. He had to help him! But his own enemy held him fast. He kicked and thrashed till he was foaming at the mouth, but he could barely move.

Finally, he slipped out of the wolf's grip and lunged forward, only to feel something clobber his hind leg and knock him to the ground. He pulled it in, flexing it, and pain shot up his side. Not broken, though, he was pretty sure. He lunged again, but the wolf landed on top of him. On instinct, he rolled, but now they were back to scratching at each other again. Moony's whining grew louder, and he couldn't do a damn thing!

Chiara leapt at Greyback, slamming into his side with both forelegs outstretched, knocking him off Moony just before he could land the bite. Before they even stopped moving, she twisted around to go for the arse. It was the same move she'd said she'd tried last Moon, but this time, she had more wolves on her side.

Unfortunately, so did Greyback.

Another wolf tackled Chiara as she tried to go for a slash on the thigh, and then Borf tackled that one. Moony staggered to his feet, but two more werewolves joined the fray, and soon, Padfoot couldn't tell who was on which side anymore, even if he wasn't just trying to stay alive himself. He was panting and starting to feel light-headed, and he tried to just focus on removing his own opponent.

In desperation, Padfoot did something a true dog would never do—that he wasn't entirely sure a dog could do. He rolled belly up underneath his attacker. This of course exposed his throat, but he kicked as fast as he could with his hind legs, even the bad one, aiming for the stomach and groin. His paws connected, and the wolf reeled back with a howl of pain. He followed through with a kick of his forelegs to the chest next, which gave him just enough time to roll to his feet and push off with his good hind leg. Padfoot clamped his jaws around the wolf's throat and made a clean kill.

He staggered back when it was over, wavering, balancing on three legs, but the fight was still going, and his friend still needed help.

Greyback was still batting aside attackers, but now, a few brave Aurors were running in close through a gap in the enemy lines, casting with two wands apiece to keep Shield Charms up. A couple of spells started to connect, but they barely slowed him down. They couldn't risk powerful curses in such close quarters without the danger of hitting their allies, and transformed werewolves were magic-resistant enough that simple hexes barely registered. Even so, Greyback was surrounded. Still incredibly dangerous, but Padfoot could smell it when the tide turned. There was blood on the field—more than before, that is—and it was Greyback's.

But he was going to go doing swinging for sure. Greyback leapt and struck one of the Aurors dead with a single blow and then turned on another. The fighting continued for what felt like ages, but he was losing. It wasn't a dramatic final blow, tearing out the throat; at some point, someone had managed to land a curse or a bite or both on his hind legs, and he was starting to bleed out. He was starting to slow down.

Chiara jumped on his back, bit him on the scruff of the neck, and shook her head as if to snap it. This didn't work. While Harry had at least managed to claw his eye out from that position, Chiara was bigger and clumsier, and Greyback had learnt. Even in his weakened state, he rolled and threw her off. Borf gave her a short growl and an exasperated look. That was not how it was done.

A couple more hexes hit Greyback. Padfoot half expected to see a Killing Curse now; the monster would deserve it, but there was still too much chaos in the fight to do it safely. He made another lunge for Moony, but Padfoot slammed his shoulder into him at a full run, shoving him off course.

Padfoot stumbled and whined. He already had bruises from his other fight, and this would make it worse, but it was working. Another werewolf he didn't know sank his claws into Greyback's arse like she would a moose and held on. Greyback spun and tried to bite her, but his strength was flagging. Another wolf grabbed onto his other haunch, and he stumbled and fell, though he still snapped at any who might approach.

Suddenly, Moony lunged forward. Not close enough to reach his throat, which wasn't his target. Instead, before anyone could stop him, he raked his claws against Greyback's face, leaving two slash marks—the same distinctive slash marks Greyback like to use to mark his victims as his. The wolf recoiled and whimpered, half in pain and half in rage. He thrashed harder, throwing his head back and letting out a scream—a disturbingly human sound that Padfoot was pretty sure was an attempt to force a lupine throat to produce a string of expletives. And then, all at once, he collapsed, motionless.

Fenrir Greyback was dead.


Once morning came, Remus stood and staggered back up the grounds, squinting into the sunlight as other werewolves were trying to make their way back, in greater or lesser states of injury, everything that had happened last night plain to see on their bodies. He himself was trying to find the nearest of the caches of robes that had been strategically placed around the grounds. This was the most embarrassing part of when werewolves got together for the full Moon. Even with Wolfsbane, you couldn't realistically preserve clothes through the transformation, and in a situation like this, you wouldn't have right at hand when you woke up, either.

He spotted one of the locations where the other werewolves were congregating and trudged over to it. A clothes rack was set up there, looking completely incongruous in the middle of the field, with a couple dozen robes hanging on it. Many of the werewolves were bleeding (he was, too)—something that would have to be cleaned up. Some were limping as well, but they were unable to do anything about it yet. Their wands were all up in the castle.

"Remus!" Chiara had spotted him. "Thank Merlin you're alright. It was a rough night. How are you doing?"

Remus blushed intensely when she dropped her task of finding a robe that fit and jogged over to him. She was Tonks's age (that is, much younger than him), and while she couldn't shift her body to…suit the mood as Tonks did, he couldn't ignore how attractive she was—dishevelled, bruised, and covered in dirt, even so—and that she was disturbingly comfortable with this situation, which spoke of a werewolf who had found herself in situations like it far too many times in her life.

"Chiara," he said, carefully maintaining eye contact. He struggled to decide what to say and eventually decided on, "We've got to stop meeting like this."

Chiara cocked her head, as if she weren't sure whether he was joking. Then, she tilted her gaze downward and back up, though chivalrously only as far as his chest. "Oh, I don't know," she said. "I think we could do worse."

Somehow, Remus blushed even harder. "L-l-let's just get dressed," he managed. "Are you doing alright?"

She huffed a breath: "I'll be fine in a couple days."

In a minute, both of them had wrapped robes around themselves and trudged back up to the castle. Once they got their wands and their proper clothes back, they would be able to start cleaning up. And they needed to. Bodies still littered the grounds, of humans and werewolves alike. And Greyback was among them. That was the one good feeling amongst the carnage.

"Ouch!" Remus yelped and stumbled as they approached the door.

"What is it?" Chiara said.

He bent down to see what he'd stepped on. Sure enough, he'd cut his foot on…"A tooth?" Odd. He held it up so Chiara could see. "Better hold onto this," he muttered, slipping it into the pocket of his robe. "Dispose of it properly."

Padfoot was just inside the front doors of the school, out of sight of the bodies. It concerned Remus a little that he hadn't changed back, but then, he wouldn't have wanted to stare at the bodies all morning, either. When he heard them approach, he came out to them, hackles still raised, though he relaxed when he saw them.

"Glad to see you're in one piece, Padfoot," Remus said. "Are you alright?"

Sirius changed back to human form, fully clothed and wanded, for his part—lucky bastard. "I'm fine—a lot better seeing you're okay, Moony. I'm glad—" His voice cut off. His eyes widened, and he made a strangled Erk! sound.

"Sirius?" Remus said, tensing up.

Suddenly, Sirius clutched a hand to his chest. His eyes bulged, nearly popping out of his head, and he staggered forward and collapsed just as Remus lunged to catch him.

"Sirius!"

He fell to the ground, unconscious and trembling. Chiara checked his pulse and swore.

"Healer!" she cried.


Sirius was in a daze for what felt like…days…Heh, that was good. Daze for days. He wanted to laugh, but couldn't. He was vaguely aware of Remus and James standing around him—no, that was Harry, wasn't it? Harry and his family, he thought. But his next memories were just a blur of white light. He thought he might be dead, but was it supposed to hurt this much when you were dead. Not at the same time as seeing the white light—he thought he remembered that. Was he hurting. He couldn't remember. Wait, did that even make sense?

Moony and his little girlfriend kept talking to him—Hang on, when did Moony get another girlfriend? Didn't he break up with Tonks? Or had he just dreamt that? Or had he dreamt that they were together in the first place? His thoughts lost their way, and he went back to sleep…or he thought he did.

The next time he was aware, he felt more coherent. His thoughts seemed to flow in some sensible order. He was definitely hurting. He felt like he'd been kicked by a centaur. He squinted and tried to turn his head without it swimming. Remus and the white-haired woman were still there. Who was she, again? Hermione was curled in a chair, reading, but when she saw he was starting to speak again, she hurried out to get Harry.

"Welcome back, Padfoot," Moony said sternly when he made himself known. "Do you have any idea how scared I was?"

Sirius slumped back into his pillow. "What happened?" he groaned. "Did someone AK me in the back?"

Remus cocked an eyebrow at him: "No you're not dead, you git, though it's not for lack of trying."

The white-haired woman stepped closer to his bedside. Chiara; that was it. "You had a heart attack, Mr. Black," she said.

"…Bugger."

"I did what I could until we could get you to the hospital. And I called in Healer Pye for a second opinion, I know some about heart disease, but he's read more than I have."

Harry ran into the room, the protesting Healer Pye behind him. Harry's family was standing in the doorway. "Sirius! Thank God!" he exclaimed. He wanted to hug him, but as Sirius couldn't sit up yet, that was rather infeasible.

"Lord Potter, please!" Pye ordered. "Lord Black needs to rest."

"Don't worry about me, Cub," Sirius assured him. "I'll be fine."

Harry stared at him. His eyes were red. Sirius couldn't remember the last time he saw Harry cry that much. "You just had a bloody heart attack, Sirius," he said shakily. "That's the definition of 'not fine.'"

"Ugh, although, I'm not fine. What even happened?" he asked.

"I'm pretty sure I know," Chiara spoke up. She glanced at his visitors, concerned about telling them, but he motioned for her to go on. "You put a lot of stress on your heart running around and fighting as a dog. That's expected. The thing is, a dog's heart reacts differently to stress than a human's. What was fine as a dog, when you changed back, still high on adrenaline—it was too much of a shock. It's uncommon, but it's not unheard of. It can happen in older werewolves, too."

Sirius looked at Remus worriedly.

"Older than me," Remus assured him.

"Sirius is only thirty-six," Harry protest. "This shouldn't be happening to him either."

"No, no, I understand that bit, Harry," Sirius said resignedly. "It's my family tree coming back to haunt me. Dear old Mum and Dad still getting to me from beyond the grave. At least we saved the Polish school."

Harry, Remus, and Chiara suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Er…"

"Oh, don't tell me. I was there! I know we saved it."

"We saved the castle, but—" Remus started.

"Mr. Lupin, Lord Potter, I must ask you not to disturb my patient any further," Healer Pye cut him off.

"Screw that!" Sirius said. "What happened?"

"We're not quite sure when or even how," Remus explained, "but after the Moon set, the Aurors found a bunch of the werewolf bodies were missing teeth and claws. That was strange, of course, so they started looking around…and someone sowed them into the ground in front of every entrance to the castle."

Sirius winced. "Who? Werewolves or Death Eaters?"

"We don't know. We haven't seen much activity outside France and Scandinavia, but that only tells us they haven't shown themselves yet."

"I still don't get that," Harry said. "Is it some kind of ritual?"

Remus shook his head: "No, no, it's about contamination. If someone were to step on one of the teeth—"

"But why would that matter if they're already dead?"

"A dead werewolf can still transmit the curse if you cut yourself on its teeth. And it's worse because a dead werewolf doesn't change back to human form when the Moon sets. They don't carry it permanently; once they're dried out, they're safe, but out of an abundance of caution, they're delaying the opening of the school by a week."

"Oh. Well, I guess that's not too bad," Sirius conceded.

"And that's quite enough," Pye insisted. "You can all speak to Lord Black later, but I need to have a private consultation.

Everyone reluctantly left the room except for Pye and Chiara. Once they were gone, Chiara said, "This is under confidentiality, Mr. Black. I won't even tell Remus unless you say so."

"Call me Sirius," he mumbled. "I already feel old enough."

"Right."

"Lord Bl—" Pye started, but corrected himself when Sirius corrected him. "Sirius. You say have a history of heart disease in your family? That's rare with purebloods."

"Well, no, not exactly…" he sighed, "but must know there's a lot of inbreeding in my family. A bunch of the old families are notorious for it. My parents were second cousins. I know that's not so bad on its own, but there are cousin marriages going way back."

"Ah. Well, that doesn't sound that bad," Chiara said. Sirius looked up at her in surprise. "Werewolves worry about inbreeding, too, especially before Wolfsbane Potion was invented. Er, it's not as common as that makes it sound. But anyway, even with cousin marriages, I don't think many families are inbred enough to cause major problems."

Sirius gave her a sceptical look. "Well, maybe, but a lot of my family in the past couple generations died in their fifties and sixties…To be honest, I've been worried about it for a while. We have a lot of mental illness, too—paranoia, psychopathy."

"But not developmental disability, though?"

"Uh, no—well, Great Uncle Marius was a squib, but that's it."

"Hm, I suppose it is a sign of serious inbreeding if your family has more squibs than average," she admitted.

"Although if you 'haven't shown it by now, you probably aren't at risk for mental illness," said Pye.

"Remus might have his own opinion, though," Chiara said, and Sirius grinned halfheartedly.

Healer Pye didn't react. "As for early death," he continued, "there are a number of things that can cause it. I'll have to give you a more thorough scan to determine what your risks are…"

Sirius nodded his assent, and the Healer began waving his wand around him, muttering various medical scanning spells. Sirius recognised a few of them, but he had never got far into Healing. It took a few minutes for the Healer to reach his conclusion.

"Well, it does look like you've done a number on your body for only being thirty-six, although with your time in Azkaban, that's not a surprise. But considering you've made it this far while staying fairly healthy, I think your biggest risks are going to be heart disease and—I'm sorry, but low fertility."

Sirius's face fell. "Oh, damn," he said. "I mean, I guess I haven't been in a hurry to 'preserve the family name' or such rot, but still, talk about a hit to a bloke's pride."

"Oh, it's not a hopeless cause, Lord—sorry, Sirius," the Healer assured him. "To start, you actually recognise the dangers of inbreeding. I suspect your family didn't. And there are things we can do for both of those problems, but you will have to keep up a healthy lifestyle."

"Well, that's something, I guess. Although I don't think the war is good for anybody's health."


"We have a problem," Remus reported to the Order of the Phoenix a few days later. "It'll be in the paper tomorrow, but the werewolves hit Czarnoksiesto again."

Gasps filled the room, and everyone started talking at once.

"Again?"

"But how?"

"It's not even full Moon!"

"How did this happen?" Kingsley said once the noise was under control. "I thought the grounds were under guard until they reopened. "

"They were already inside the grounds," Remus explained. "We must have missed a cell of them on the night of the battle somehow. Some of them stayed there and hid out until all the teachers evacuated for the quarantine period. Then, with no one left in the building, they could just turn the defensive wards back on. They even raised their own flag."

He had a photo. It was a wolf's head silhouetted against the full Moon, flanked by claw marks on either side. He sighed and look down at his feet. "I should have seen that coming, but we were so worried about decontamination that we missed it."

"It's not your fault, Moony," Sirius assured him. "It was the Polish Ministry's turf. You were just advising."

"I still should have advised better."

"I don't get it," Harry spoke up. "Can't the ICW get back in? We can't get back into Hogwarts because Voldemort took over all of Britain, but the Death Eaters took over Hogwarts, and it had a lot more defenders."

"Hogwarts was an unusual situation, Harry," Dumbledore told him. "We would have stood up much longer to a siege had we not been sabotaged from within. Death Eaters who have a united front and are actively preparing for an attack are a different matter."

"Dumbledore's right," Remus agreed. "The werewolves' smaller numbers help us, but there's enough of them guarding the castle that it's nontrivial. And we're pretty sure they're still getting Death Eater support. It'll be a hell of a lot easier than Hogwarts or Durmstrang just because of access, but they caught us flat-footed. It's not something the ICW can just do on the fly, and right now, we're more concerned about other werewolves getting in."

"Well," Mad-Eye Moody said from his corner, "that's that, then. Now, we have another front in the war—a werewolf army that we hope is more docile, but now holds actual territory."

Yes, that about summed it up. It was more of a trade-off than a win, and the only really good part was that they'd got rid of Greyback for good.

"So what happens now?" Hermione asked. "Where will the students go in Poland?"

Remus shrugged: "Right now, they're just delaying the start of the school year again until they figure something out, but it's a serious issue. The more refugees there are, the harder it is on the remaining schools. And all magical infrastructure, really."

No one said what everyone was thinking. Already, the number of British refugees in France was becoming a strain—not on any essentials that could be got from the muggle world, but on the hospital, and on the teaching staff at Beauxbatons when it started tomorrow—and things looked like they were only going to get worse.

They could really use some good news soon.