Berg met them all at the station and it took them almost an hour to leave as his students form the previous year gathered around to tell them all about how awful Lockhart had been upon his return and how Lupin was great. Finally, the elderly wizard managed to steer them to the floo, where they used handfuls of emerald powder to travel to Avalon.

Lord Nott was already waiting, looking like he couldn't quite decided whether to be impressed or infuriated.

'The World Cup Ball?' Lord Nott demanded as soon as she'd cleared the floo. 'Do you realise just what this means?'

'Oh yes.' Hermione grinned.

'Fifty seven guests - thirty of whom are required to be in premium accomodation. Hermione raised her eyebrow, gesturing up at the colossal castle above them.

'We have the space.'

'Yes!' Lord Nott agreed in exasperation, 'but most of it is derelict. Lucius Malfoy is furious'

'That is what we have goblins for, and I have eighteen werewolves to interview in Diagon alley in...' she paused, glancing at her watch, 'two hours. We'll assign some rooms beforehand - there should be just enough time.'

They left their luggage for the house elves and Hermione pulled out a roll of parchment. She'd spent hours peering over the plans and selecting rooms for her guests; the ones with the best view, that weren't separated by miles of corridors and were far enough from the interesting bits of the castle that the visitors would be hard pressed to stumble upon them.

'Most of the guests can stay in the Curtains.' Hermione explained, leading the group through the massive doors and over to the smaller portal door on the side. She'd noted down the rune for the south east curtain on her scroll, and she copied it onto the door, then opened it and stepped through.

In most castles, curtain walls usually contained corridors which connected the towers, which often held rooms. Avalon castle's southern and northern curtain walls ran up along the cliffs on either side from the city wall, growing in height as they climbed until they towered over ten meters sixteen meters high, strung between bulky towers. Overhanging the towering cliffs that the castle was built on, the rooms built into the wall had some of the most spectacular views and better still, they were all relatively equal in size and splendour so nobody could complain about unfair treatment.

The portal led to a courtyard - overgrown, but at least not bristling with trees like the main courtyard had been. It was shadowed by the towering building behind them but even the weak winter sunlight reflected off the bright, seamless stones of the castle and made it feel bright and clean.

A covered walkway ran along the wall that separated the city from the castle, reaching the massive tower that marked the junction between castle wall and outer curtain. A small squad of guardians followed them through the portal, muscling the wooden door open with an ease that suggested that it had been accessed recently, despite the unvarnished wood.

It was with great trepidation that Hermione entered the tower, followed by the rest of her group.

The first thing to really catch Hermione's attention were the two colossal bastillae. Built into the three meter deep alcoves in the walls, they didn't protrude much into the tower itself, but they were in perfect condition against the disrepair of the rest of the space. Each was loaded with bolts as long as she was tall with viciously barbed points, and each was aimed out of a tall, slitted window. She tore her eyes away from the weapons to observe the rest of the room. The spiral staircase curved up the outside of the tower, stunning in it's minimalism. Unsupported and unguarded, yet wide enough to feel safe, the stone was strong and firm, without joints to weaken. To her right was a doorway, and this one clearly hadn't been used in a while. The guardians had to batter it open with their shields and it finally gave way with a crunch and a cloud of powdered iron.

As expected, the state room beyond was in an odd state between derelict and pristine. Certain items had clearly been considered valuable and had been charmed against ageing whilst others were mouldering piles of dust. The fifty meter long corridor had once been partitioned, but that had collapsed over time and left only a large fireplace and chimney in the middle of the space.

'The walls are meant to be removable.' Hermione informed them, pointing to a series of fist sized holes at regular intervals up the chimney and the corresponding holes in the walls. When the partition had been in place, it would have divided the room in half. 'If they were attacked, the wall would be brought down and they probably would have mounted more bastillae in here... yes look, there's still the mounts.' She kicked away a splintered desk beneath a slitted window and pointed to the large metal rings and spikes embedded into the stone.

'I'm starting to get the theme behind the preservation spells.' Theo commented wryly, tapping the gleaming fixings. 'They wanted this place to be invincible forever. Weaponry, structure, defences; they could all have been built yesterday. Most don't even have a speck of dust.'

'Most of the furniture isn't in too bad shape unless something's actively broken it.' Neville added, clambering over the wall to reach the four poster bed and rapping his fist against it. The resultant rap sounded healthy and solid, although he did wince and have to pluck a large splinter from his knuckles.

'We could search through everything and take an inventory, see what we can find. I mean, the desk here is ruined but I bet there's one somewhere in the castle that's not.' Theo suggested.

'There might be stasis rooms somewhere too.' Daphne had been standing quietly near the back of the group and she blushed prettily as everyone turned to her. 'Mother has a stasis room in the manor at home, where she keeps furniture that's not being used at the moment. I bet there's at least one in a castle this size.'

'Good idea, Daphne.' Anneken praised.

'We can search through the city too.' Hermione decided. 'They need to be empty to be repaired anyway.'

There were a couple of quick nods from those around her.

From there, they returned to the tower, climbing up the spiral staircase to discover another set of bastillae on the next floor. This room was in much better condition; the dividing wall had remained undamaged and although the bed had turned into a birds nest, the rest of the furniture was still in reasonable condition. That included a bookshelf which remained under powerful preservation charms. There were a number of heavy looking tombs and scrolls on it's shelves which Hermione glanced over briefly. They were all in ancient runic languages, and all on obscure but harmless topics. She could afford to leave them for anyone who was dedicated enough to translate them. Although, she would certainly need to acquire new reading material for her guests.

'What happened to the Grindelwald library?' Hermione asked curiously, directing her question at Anneken and Berg. Her two elderly friends shifted uncomfortably and shared a glance.

'I imagine much of it is still preserved in the warrens.' Berg began uncomfortably. 'I suspect Gellert selected some volumes to take into Nurmengard with him, but I hardly imagine he would have bothered with most of it.'

Hermione hummed, wondering if she could organise collecting it. The library in Blau Berg had been one of the largest collections in the world; if it had been written, chances were that there was a copy in the cavernous library. Fortunately, charms to protect from fire were standard in libraries, so it had been one of the more unscathed rooms and much had been salvaged by the elves. It seemed a shame to leave it in some lost cavern beneath a wasteland. She had, of course, visited Avalon's library already. It was a disappointingly small room; Hermione had imagined a room on the scale of Beauty and the Beast, perhaps four stories high with landings and comfortable nooks and books in every language. Of course, once she'd sat down and thought about it reasonably, she'd understood why the library wasn't that impressive. Morgana's study held most of the books, and there was a library's worth of bookshelves scattered throughout the castle anyway. Not to mention that books themselves were both incredibly rare and incredibly valuable in those days, so the library would have been impressive then. Never-the-less, she'd ordered for every book and scroll found to be inventoried and stored in that room until the entire Sally Tower had been converted into a library. (And hadn't that been a battle - persuading the guardians that the Sally Tower could be used for something other than guarding the small, single person gate that tunnelled through ten meters of solid stone with three seperate doors and portcullis, at the top of a perilously steep, lethally slippery stone staircase carved into the hundred meter high cliff, overhung by murder holes and arrow slits, which was only accessible by a tiny boat rowed through savagely pointed rocks... Really, if anyone was going to invade the castle, they'd have better luck parachuting in.)

Hermione shook the thought from her mind, reminding herself that she was on a strict schedule. There were four floors in the South Curtain Wall, four towers and their associated sections of wall, which meant sixteen state rooms on the south side of the castle. With the strangely seamless rock that the castle was constructed from, the building was still structurally sound and quite dry which made most of the damage cosmetic. They'd need several hundred litres of varnish, miles of sandpaper and probably a shipload of wood, but nothing was too far gone.

The North Wall faced a somewhat different problem. The slitted windows received far less sun, and so the rooms were much damper. One set of rooms was blanketed in mushrooms, and Lord Nott had to curse the door open over the thick blanket of damp and decaying plant matter. It appeared that a thick sheepskin carpet had been the source of the issue, and it would take shovels and wheelbarrows to remove. Woodworm had made it's way into four more rooms, decimating everything, including the usually immune shields on the walls.

'At least there's very few soft furnishings. We won't have to deal with as many pests.' Anneken poked at a beautifully preserved bedspread with her wand. The bed frame crumbled out from beneath it; wood entirely consumed by pests and time. It was an oddly bright spot of colour in the otherwise spoiled space.

'There'll be boggarts.' Berg warned.

'Good. I'm pretty sure my Boggart will be a dementor.' Harry grinned, talking somewhat louder than normal. He looked slightly maniacal with cobwebs in his hair from the howling spider nest he'd accidentally stumbled into, and his hearing evidently had yet to fully return despite Berg's excellent hearing skills.

'Excellent idea, Harry.' Berg praised. 'Talking of, it's six thirty. Perhaps you should head off, Hermione?'

Hermione checked her watch as well, discovering that Berg was indeed correct. Flighty popped in, snapped her fingers, and suddenly Hermione was dressed in a very medieval style, emerald robe. It could have come straight from Morgana's wardrobe, except it was new and more form fitting than ever could have been achieved with 7th century fabric.

'What's this?' She asked, twirling on the spot. It was trimmed with the palest grey fur, which made it toasty and warm despite being only two layers.

'A new wardrobe.' Anneken answered innocently. Hermione turned and gaped at her.

'Another one?' She demanded. 'I hadn't even worn most of the last one yet.'

'Oh, that's alright. I've sold everything you didn't wear.' Anneken shrugged, 'I am a designer, you know, so technically anything that you don't wear is still unreleased and new. Still, I just wanted to deviate from the current fashions a little bit more. You're influential enough to have your own look now.'

'Oh.' Was all that Hermione could manage, feeling very flattered.

'Not to mention that you're a growing woman. Last year's just wouldn't have fitted anymore and it would be terrible for my brand if you looked anything less than stunning.' Anneken passed her a briefcase and made a shooing motion as Hermione blushed brightly. She took the hint though, disappearing through the hall to the floo. Harry followed once Flighty had worked her magic on him, vanishing the cobwebs in his hair with a puff of magic and redressing him in one of his numerous pairs of dress robes.

They'd decided after a short discussion that Harry would be the best one to take with her. Berg had been the one to point out that if any of the adults accompanied her, the people that she was interviewing would naturally defer to the adult. If she wanted to establish herself as their boss, she needed to be the dominant figure in the interview room. So, they'd had to pick from her peers; Theo had been the one to jump to mind as the most politically confident of her friends, but the Slytherin had quickly suggested Harry instead; Harry might not be as knowledgable as Theo but his name and reputation would help to negate some of the negativity of her Grindelwald association. So, the Boy-Who-Lived had been assigned some homework to read up on employment law and the new werewolf legislation before being roped into escorting Hermione.

They flooed to the Leaky Cauldron and allowed Tom to lead them to the private room that Hermione had booked for the evening. They were served warm spiced apple juice, which quickly filled the room with it's rich and warm scent, passable as mulled wine to those not in the know, along with a platter of mince pies. Hermione organised her papers whilst Harry heaved the tables and chairs around to make it just the right combination of intimidating and welcoming. It was barely fifteen minutes later that Tom knocked on the door and asked if they would like him to send through the first arrival.

'Do you think Anneken knew that the upholstery in this room would be that colour?' Harry asked, taking his place just off to the side and lounging in exactly the way that Theo had taught him. It was the perfect combination of casual disinterest and attentiveness which should be worn by wizards escorting a witch on business that wasn't really his own.

'Why?' Hermione asked curiously, glancing over the applications and wondering which would come through first. It seemed that once Lupin had started spreading the word that she was looking to employ wolves, the news had spread rapidly and she now had a significant number of applications. She'd discarded none, determined to give everyone a chance to talk to her in person under the assumption that literacy may be an issue.

The door swung open quickly and she quickly schooled her expression as the first werewolf entered. Her first impression was that he was desperately in need of a job. He was young, perhaps only a couple of years past graduating age. He wore a clearly borrowed suit which hung off narrow shoulders, and he clutched a canvas bag in his hands. His eyes darted through the room as he came in and he flinched when he noticed her and Harry, as if expecting a blow.

'Come in.' Hermione instructed kindly, standing up and offering her hand for him to shake. He looked surprised as he took the offered hand and Hermione took a note of the roughness of his skin, from years of manual labour.

'Tom Tadworth. Honoured to meet you.' Hermione immediately remembered his application. He was a wizard who had presumably been bitten as a child, if his complete lack of eduction was anything to go by. His parents had also applied, having been changed in the same attack right at the end of the last war. She gestured for him to take a seat, then pulled out his application.

'I want you to know that nothing said in this room will leave it.' Hermione began, 'There are some questions I feel the need to ask, for the safety of everyone involved - and that includes you.'

Tom shifted nervously.

'You were employed by the Parkinsons previously, correct?' Hermione asked, offering him a mince pie. He took it and despite being clearly starving, carefully paced himself to only eat as fast as Hermione.

'Yes, Ma'am.'

'And that employment was terminated with the introduction of the new law?'

'No Ma'am.' She looked at him quizzically and he quickly elaborated, 'Mister Parkinson got rid of us just before he started campaigning for it.'

Hermione's nose wrinkled with disgust.

'How hypocritical.' She commented. 'Could you please tell me what you did for the Parkinsons?'

He did, relaxing into vivid descriptions of his work in the grounds of the wealthy family. Hermione quickly discovered that he'd worked for his father on a merciless schedule, maintaining all five of the Parkinson homes. She didn't think he even noticed the hints of inhumane treatment that he dropped; they weren't to be present when anyone else was, they weren't to touch the furnishings or sit on the benches, they lived in a single room shed on a camp bed that they dragged out of the cage for full moons. It made her so angry that her hair crackled with magic and Harry shifted, unable to maintain his assumed posture. Quickly, Tom seemed to realise that something was wrong and he paused in his recollection of his talents with flowerbeds. Briefly, abject fear crossed his expression. Hermione had to work to calm herself.

'Have your parents taught you any magic?' She asked, taking deep breaths.

'A bit, Ma'am.' Tom replied quickly, perched on the edge of his seat. 'Just the simple stuff. I don't have my own wand, see?'

Hermione made a note on her parchment, then reached across the table with both hands, instructing him to place his hands into hers. He did, still wary, and she reached out immediately for his magic along the physical connection.

He was strong; untrained, his core twisted by his lycanthropy and atrophied by lack of use, but she was certain that she could teach him the basics within a matter of weeks. With the lack of training, it was easy to get a read on his emotions by the way that his magic reacted to them. He was terrified, desperate, nervous; a bundle of awful emotions that clawed at a desperate hope that hid his magic reaching for her own.

'I think that will be all.' She decided after a moment. He swallowed, looking nervous. 'I'd like to speak to your parents next, please.'

Tom nodded and shuffled out, bowing slightly at the door as if he wasn't quite certain what to do. The door shut softly behind him.

'I like him.' Hermione decided, turning to Harry.

'You'll like all of them.' Harry pointed out. Hermione shrugged.

'I think he's a package deal with the parents. I really liked his mother's application.'

Then she fell silent as the door opened again and two more figures appeared. Her first thought was that she recognised the man's jacket. Tom must have swapped it with him as he left. She also recognised the bag that he carried.

She shook hands with both across the table, unsurprised when they displayed a far more refined set of manners. Anne Tadworth was from a wealthy pureblood family who had disowned her upon discovering that she'd been attacked. Ed Tadworth was a muggleborn, and he was the only member of the family to bear visible scars - a horrific gash that twisted his lip up into a permanent grimace on one side.

As she had done for their son, Hermione introduced herself and promised to keep everything they said confidential. This time, however, she focused on their educations and skills with her questioning. Anne was a fully qualified healer, and had worked at St. Mungos before Tom's birth and Ed had been training as an auror. She spent even less time with them than with Tom, already convinced that she wanted them. Both had had exemplary records from work before they'd been infected.

'My offer is for accomodation, three meals per day, wolfsbane and a safe place to transform for all three of you. Your wages are lower than I'd like, but really they are just pocket money on top of everything else. Your work would be primarily the restoration and maintenance of my estates, along with tending to potion ingredient crops. A large factor in making this viable will be the ability to grow our own wolfsbane ingredients. I won't lie, the hours will be long and hard to begin with as we set things up, but it should become easier over time.'

She pushed a sheet of parchment over which contained a summary of her offerings. Anne leant forwards to pick it up, squinting in the relatively dim light of the candles. Then her eyes blew wide.

'Twenty galleons per week?' She asked,

'Each.' Hermione assured hastily. 'Well, twenty for yourself and Ed, ten for Tom. After food, accomodation and potions, of course.'

For a moment the two werewolves just blinked at each other and Hermione worried for a moment that she'd set the wage too low. She'd tried to make it as much as she could, considering the costs of the venture and the cost of employing the potion master. But she was well aware that it was well below the average wage.

'What's the catch?' Ed demanded suspiciously, his scar rippling as he narrowed his eyes.

'There isn't one?' Hermione replied, confused.

'I know you pureblood types. Nothin like this is free, there's always a catch.'

For a moment more, the two teens just stared stupidly. Of everything they'd expected, the wage being too high was not one of them.

'Well...' Harry eventually said, breaking the silence. 'Hermione isn't a pureblood.'

'Not a pureblood?' Anne asked, sounding mystified.

'No.' Hermione smiled. 'I'm muggleborn, actually. And proud of it, if purebloods are condoning slavery. I won't pay you anything less that what is written here. If you want the job, you have to take the money.'

'Thank you.' Anne finally breathed. Hermione smiled and picked up one of her self inking quills and the contract that Lord Nott's lawyer had drawn up for her, along with three heavy, golden coins from inside her briefcase.

'Buy yourselves dinner, read over this. If you have any questions, just knock. Let me know when you're done. I'll force it all through the ministry as soon as possible, and owl you when it's good to go.'

'Thank you.' Anne breathed, elbowing her husband hard in the side. He nodded quickly and thanked her as well, taking the quill, parchment and gold.

The next person to come through wasn't employed. There was something sleazy about his magic that Hermione didn't like and he looked far too well off for someone who came from no family and had been unemployed for a decade. The next was a muggle; another whose application had caught Hermione's interest. Travis Cadaver was a very similar age to Lupin and had known nothing of the wizarding world until the day he went out to frighten the fox away from his chicken coop. He'd woken up two days later in St. Mungos and been informed that he was no longer allowed to work muggle jobs. What Hermione was interest by was his previous job as a carpenter - Travis had been a furniture maker, and if there was a skill she desperately needed, that was it. Only a couple of minutes later, Travis was walking out with a quill, contract and dinner money.

The next to come through was another family, this one much larger. Again, Hermione interviewed the working age children first, learning that they were largely illiterate but both were accustomed to a life of hard labour. The two parents came next, one had been a librarian but the other was a herbologist. Hermione employed the whole family with barely a blink but refused to employ their nine year old son, offering instead to put him through Hogwarts when he came of age.

Two more muggles joined the lineup shortly after; a farmer and a young army veteran who'd worked as a field medic. The night was growing long by the time Harry counted off on his fingers and realised that they'd only employed ten.

That meant that there were still many more to interview. Hermione counted another twelve applications on the table, then hastily resumed her serious expression as the door swung open again.

The person who came in next was tall, with unbrushed hair that straggled in messy locks around cruel, dark eyes. Hermione didn't like him instantly.

'Greyback.' The man sneered. Hermione recognised the name instantly. Harry did too, his hand going straight to his wand.

'A pleasure to meet you.' Hermione forced herself to speak politely, reminding herself forcefully that she had a policy of second chances.

'I'm not sure it is.' Greyback prowled forwards. 'The way I see it, you're trying to tame the wolf.'

'Tame the wolf?' Hermione echoed, unable to help herself as she slid to her feet. She had a policy of second chances, but she wasn't a fool. Greyback did not seem to be looking for a second chance.

'The wolf is a gift, not to be chained behind bars or suppressed by a potion.'

'I am not endorsing any specific treatment of wolves.' The young witch countered. 'I am, however, bound by the law, so if I wish to employ your people I must abide by them.'

Greyback's hands slammed onto the table with enough force to splinter the wood. Hermione jumped back, putting some distance between them.

'You're stealing from my army.'

'Your army?' Hermione demanded, realisation trickling like ice down her spine.

'My army! My pack!' Greyback howled.

'You wanted them to suffer.' Hermione realised, fury rising in her chest. 'You wanted the other werewolves to suffer so that they would join you to overthrow wizards.'

'And I was succeeding, until you went and weakened them, tried to civilise them.'

Then, two things happened simultaneously. Greyback leapt, scattering parchment and ink bottles as he cleared the table. The door slammed open and two of the werewolves who'd been waiting outside surged forwards with the same lycan speed that Greyback possessed.

It was only Hermione's long experience with combat that allowed her to dive sideways, beneath the outstretched, clawing hands. Greyback landed, seeming shocked that she'd managed to evade him. He lunged again, swiping with his hand as Hermione's hand flew up, shield shimmering silver. Then the other two werewolves slammed into the feral wolf. There was a brief struggle; Greyback writhed and fought as the two newcomers fought to subdue him.

Then, it was over. Greyback lay still on the floor, his arms twisted up and behind him by the older of the two and the younger kneeling into the small of his back. Hermione gasped for breath, started by just how fast they could move.

'Thank you.' She breathed, letting the shield charm that flickered around her fingers die out. The older of the two grunted as Greyback struggled again. Hermione stepped forwards, her skirts rusting around her feet as she knelt down beside his head. The subdued werewolf snapped pointlessly at the fabric. 'You are going to Azkaban; be grateful that I don't yet have the influence to exact my own brand of justice. I have a basilisk sworn into my service.'

She pressed a finger to his temple, the younger of the two that had helped her forcing Greyback's chin away from her fingers. With a powerful pulse of magic, she subdued him. The werewolf fell limp.

'Shall I get the aurors?' Harry asked, sounding a little shaken.

'Already did.' The younger of the two who'd burst in grunted, inspecting a slash that ran down his arm.

'Oh, good.' Harry muttered, fingering his wand.

'Thank you for your assistance. I'll confess, I misjudged how quick he'd be.' Hermione forced a laugh. 'Is there anything I can do for your arm?'

'Magic won't work on it.' The elder looked her over sternly. 'He didn't get you anywhere, did he?'

'No, no.' Hermione assured, holding out her arms to demonstrate that she was fine.

'Good. You move fast.'

Hermione huffed and transfigured one of the sheets of parchment into a string of crepe bandage and a set of the little sticky steri strips that her parents kept in the first aid kit. The younger werewolf looked uncertain as Hermione gestured impatiently for him to hold his arm out.

'Come on. You're bleeding everywhere.'

Still looking uncertain and confused, the boy held his arm out to her and she carefully cleaned it and stuck the edges back together before wrapping it with the conjured bandage. She wasn't an expert by any means, but at least she could perform first aid.

Just as she finished working, the aurors burst in. Nine of them, dressed in black leather coats with wands drawn and brandished.

'Hands up, wolf!' The lead one bellowed, snatching at the boy Hermione had just given first aid and throwing him against the wall. 'Get away from the girl.'

'Hey!' Harry cried, jumping forwards to pull the auror away.

'Get off, foolish boy.' The auror shook Harry off, waving his wand to conjure silver chains.

'Release him, auror.' Hermione ordered, channeling Lady Grindelwald as she pulled herself up to the full extent of her small stature and spoke right from her belly so that her voice boomed out across the room, threaded through with magical power. Immediately, everyone froze.

'Miss Grindelwald, we were called to prevent a werewolf attack.'

'No, no. Greyback was the one to attack. These two were good enough to intervene and subdue him for me.' Hermione corrected, pointing over to where Harry was standing over the stunned figure; barely more than a dark lump in the carpet in the gloomy room. Helpfully, Fenrir took that opportunity to groan and stir; Harry's wand flashed crimson and the werewolf fell silent again.

'Greyback? Fenrir Greyback?' One of the younger aurors demanded. Her shock of bright pink hair stuck out of her dark auror uniform like a candle in the night.

'Sure looks like it.' Another said, shoving his lit wand into the unconscious face.

'He is.' The younger of the two werewolves up against the wall spat.

'Would you release them?' Hermione demanded, gesturing sharply at the two against the wall. The lead auror hurried to obey as another came up to her, wand already raised.

'I'll escort you to St. Mungos.'

'I don't need to go to St. Mungos.' Hermione scowled. 'I'm fine.'

The aurors hesitated, glancing at one another.

'I'll cast some diagnostics, just to be sure.' The auror decided.

'I'm fine.' Hermione insisted irritably. 'I've got lots of interviews to go still, you've got your villain now.'

'Interviews?' The head auror demanded, sounding nervous. 'With those?'

'With them? Yes.' Hermione crossed her arms, ignoring how it spoiled the diagnostic charms that one of the aurors was busy casting. It was incredibly annoying and only backed up her statement that she was fine.

'We'll provide security.' The lead auror decided.

'I don't need security.' She hissed. 'I'm just doing some job interviews.'

'Miss Gorlois, you're a person of great interest to the Ministry of Magic. Your safety is one of our highest priorities.'

'Oh, for Circe's sake. I'm fine. Greyback is gone. I'm not going to be attacked twice in a night. Please leave me to finish these interviews tonight.'

The aurors dithered for a moment more, then finally left. Hermione let out an irritable huff and waved her hand in a vague gesture at the room. With a crack, everything jumped back into it's proper place.

'Now, let us continue' Hermione turned to the two werewolves who were still present. 'I'm very grateful for your assistance. I'd say you've both earned your place on my staff. Could I have your names, perhaps?'

'Nathan Langritch.' The elder said quickly, staring at the quill which was still rocking gently in the ink pot Hermione's magic had returned it too. He was a muggle, she remembered.

'James Johansen' The younger offered, holding his hand out with a bright smile. He looked like he could still be at school, but was clearly older. His hands were course and scarred, but he had a kind of infectious positive energy despite the hardships he must have gone through.

'You had a girlfriend, James?' Hermione asked, glancing at his paper. The boy immediately blushed.

'We're hoping to marry soon.' He agreed, looking incredibly proud of himself.

'Is she here today?' Hermione asked, flicking through the papers.

'No, she's at home looking after Nan.'

'Nan?' Hermione questioned. For the first time, James hesitated and a shadow brushed across his eyes.

'She's awful old; the... er... full moons can be very painful for her.'

'Oh.' Hermione paused awkwardly. 'Does your girlfriend work?'

'Not often, Ma'am... Lady Gorlois. She weaves enchantments into fabric, but none of the purebloods trust her work anymore.'

'Consider yourselves both employed.' Hermione decided, making a quick note. 'Your "Nan" is welcome to live with you, particularly if she has skills to share when she's able to.'

Looking delighted, James left with the two bundles of paperwork. That left Nathan. He straightened as Hermione looked at him.

'You have children, do you not?'

'Yes, Lady Gorlois.'

'Three?'

'Yes.'

She shrugged.

'Still uninfected?'

'Yes, Lady Gorlois.'

'And their mother died?'

'Yes. She was murdered in the same attack that changed me.'

Hermione glanced over at Harry briefly and he shrugged.

'You're an accountant?' She confirmed.

'I was, but I've been doing some handyman work since the attack.' Hermione nodded in acceptance and passed him the papers. He left with a deep and surprisingly elegant bow.

After that, the remaining interviews were rather mundane. One of the new employees ended up being the very same Lucas who's plight had been mentioned at her ball and had started her whole campaign. The biggest catch, in Hermione's opinion, was an auror pair who'd fallen afoul of Greyback on a mission in the last war. They'd apparently been the ones to alert the aurors about the attack that evening; she knew that their skills would be very handy in the upcoming battle against the pests in the castle.

Finally, she was collecting the paperwork from the twenty who'd been hired and Harry used Hedwig to post them all off to the ministry whilst she bid everyone goodbye. She couldn't help but feel rather buoyant at the sight of all the grateful expressions; she may not have fixed the issue but she'd immeasurably improved the lives of those before her. If the venture was successful, she hoped to expand the program to include more in the future. Greyback's attack was quickly forgotten.