It was on what was supposed to be a warm, sunny Saturday in the middle of April, when Amelia found herself in the quarterly meeting with the other Heads of Department with the Minister himself – and his entourage, of course.

Personally, she would rather be anywhere else than in the meeting, but when the Minister of Magic organises a meeting on a Saturday, 'to avoid messing up anyone's week', as he so kindly put it, well – you just made sure your weekly rota had you covering the Saturday; in solidarity with the other Aurors in your department.

She fought the urge to huff petulantly as she shuffled a handful of folders in her lap, all filled with various reports from the hunt for Greyback, all the way to the department budget. At her side, Dora attempted to stifle a yawn with the back of her hand, while her other clutched the mug of black coffee to her chest like a lifeline.

Like hell Amelia was going to suffer through something like this alone.

In the background of the room, the large clock affixed to the wall ticked slowly, and the half dozen old men around her incessantly cleared their throats of something. She was half tempted to attempt to put some music to it all and see if they could strike up a tune with how often they were doing it.

She sighed to herself and rubbed the space between her eyebrows wearily. She shouldn't be so snappish, even if it was inside her own head. It was simply a result of her bitterness at having missed out on a lovely day with her husband. A husband she was finding herself wanting to spend more and more time with the longer this hunt for Fenrir Greyback continued.

Over the years, Amelia had found herself in many precarious situations – she had long ago come to terms with the fact that her life may very well end because of some work in the field. The life expectancy of an Auror wasn't particularly long, but she'd made her peace with that.

When she had first gained custody of Susan, she had put into place half a dozen different plans and contingencies in the event of her unexpected death – Susan would be raised by the Abbotts, and when she turned sixteen, would take her place as the heir to House Bones; a house that, since her marriage to Sirius, she had realised had forgotten and lost more than she could ever know.

She knew, through her marriage, that House Bones had once been as prominent in… other places, as House Black and Potter, but somewhere, over three generations ago, the secret had been lost. There was no Ro'rim in The Ossuary that she had been able to find, and the lands and castle of the Bones had long since been divided up, looted, and torn down.

And yet, when she had marched into that factory over half a year before, she hadn't thought about any of the security those contingencies gave to Susan. She had instead been faced with the reality that she might not have returned to Sirius, with his smile that always made her go weak at the knees, and she wouldn't have been able to see both Susan and Harry again. Instead, she could have quite possibly been torn to pieces in the most agonising of ways.

That entire operation had become a mess – so many Aurors killed; numbers of fatalities that had been unprecedented since the time of Voldemort and his followers, and then, Dementors had been assigned as protection to Hogwarts following the very real threat issued against the boy she had seen playing with Susan the following evening.

It had not been the easiest year.

They had been so close to getting their hands on Greyback – how many administrations had he evaded now? Two? Three? He was always one step ahead, and as the sightings of Greyback had slowly began travelling further and further north, she worried what they would find when they inevitably caught up to him.

She had promised Sirius in the days following the debacle at the warehouse that she wouldn't put herself in such unnecessary danger again – she was no longer just Amelia Bones, head of the D.M.L.E. She was Amelia Black, a loved wife, and a devoted aunt to two children. They hadn't necessarily been the words she had wanted to hear at the time, but she understood the message loud and clear.

As such, she had made a point of only arriving on the scene to any of Greyback's appearances after it had all been secured. The rest of her year had been spent managing the department, overseeing the recruits, and playing department politics in some vain hope of getting a little more funding.

And so, she was here. On a Saturday.

"-think we can rely on House Dondarrion to support the upcoming bill to review registration for magical creatures. It is my belief that the opposition is being spearheaded by House Hawke, which, we all know is one of the many Houses that House Potter holds power over." Dolores said, adjusting her glasses on her nose; they were gaudy things, with flared frames and a garish pink chain to secure them around her neck.

"Very well, thank you Dolores – now, if I can draw everyone's attention to the next item on the agenda; The Prophet is still running articles about the unfortunate incident with Potter. Do we have any news on procuring a Cease and Desist, or better yet, any way we could spin it to our advantage?" Cornelius asked, clasping his hands on the table, and leaning forward slightly. Amelia caught his eyes glancing in her direction, and she sighed.

"On what grounds would you begin to think about issuing a Cease and Desist? While I agree that it's been months now, they're doing nothing more than criticising you for allowing the Dementors to be stationed around the school. Between the incident with the train and the Quidditch game, of which myself and Arthur here were both first-hand witnesses, it's about time you started to sweat a little over the damned thing, Cornelius." She snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose tiredly. "We told you months ago it was a stupid idea to set the Dementors up to guard the school, but you didn't listen to us."

"Director Black, that is quite enou-" Dolores began, her face turning an interesting shade of puce.

"No, Dolores, she's quite right." Cornelius said, bowing his head slightly in Amelia's direction. She kept her face even, but next to her, she thought she could hear Dora mutter something under her breath. "I agree that in hindsight, assigning the Dementors to guard Hogwarts was a mistake – it places not only the intended victim of Greyback in harm's way, as has been evident in the past school year, but also many of the children from the esteemed families of the Wizengamot. I understand your opinion on it all, Amelia."

"Then call them off." Arthur said from his place opposite her. His eyebrows were drawn into a frown, and his lips were pressed tightly together. "I've got five children in that school, Cornelius."

"But what of Greyback?" Someone asked – Amelia couldn't see who it was that asked the question. Before she could answer though, Dora leaned forward on her elbows and picked up a sheet that had been on the table.

"Our last sighting had him doubling back on himself – he was heading east, away from the direction of Hogsmeade, but still in Scotland. He was last sighted in… Perth. Local Aurors and the community have both been notified."

"So, the Dementors did their job." Dolores sniffed.

"With all due respect, Senior Undersecretary, they didn't. They've attacked multiple students on the Hogwarts Express, and the one person they were supposed to protect. My mother was the witch that issued first aid to Potter after the fiasco on the pitch. If the spectators hadn't been as quick with the Patroni as they were, he might very well have ended up Kissed." Dora snapped – this had been a source of anger for the entire department for months; Scrimgeour's rants about it all had been something to witness.

"So, call the things off. Send them back to Azkaban." Vesta said, sat on Arthur's left and in a smart, burgundy suit, her own face set into a furious scowl. "This whole thing has frankly been an embarrassment to the Ministry."

"On that, we can agree." Fudge sighed, running a tired hand down his face, and leaning back in his chair. "We'll see about returning them to Azkaban at the first chance we get. Amelia, what are your plans should Greyback resurface?"

Amelia cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter. "We have a full-time garrison of Aurors stationed at Hogsmeade as it stands right now – nightly patrols in platoons with air support overhead; similar to the approach we took in August, but this time it's all in the open." She said, receiving slow nods from around the room. "We can't actually station anyone on the grounds of Hogwarts itself, but I've been alerted to one or two gaps in its defences that I've made sure to alert the staff to."

"Weaknesses?" Barty scowled; he was seated between Vesta and Cornelius, though a chair still separated the two of them. "Hogwarts is one of the most secure locations in Britain!"

Amelia glared at the man for a moment before turning back to face the room at large. "There were a number of secret passages leading in and out of the school – my husband made me aware of them; you all know his reputation for mischief at school." Arthur and Dora snorted. "Those passages have been rendered useless… permanently."

"Ah yes, Sirius Black." Crouch sniffed derisively, sitting back in his chair, and folding his arms. "Yes we can all very much attest to the word of Black."

"If you hadn't tried to throw him into Azkaban, you wouldn't be sitting where you are, Bartemius." Arthur chuckled, though there was no humour in it. "Accept you're the victim of your own bloody mistake and move on – don't forget who ousted you from Amelia's department in the first place."

"Arcturus had no right-" Crouch snapped, slamming a hand on the table and pointing an accusing finger in Arthur's direction furiously.

"Enough!" Cornelius bellowed, rising to his feet, and placing his hands firmly on the table. His eyes swept over the occupants of the room slowly, and possibly for the first time in her life, Amelia thought she saw a glimpse of the man that resided within the Minister of Magic. "I'll not sit here while the heads of the departments bicker like children!"

"I quite agree, Cornelius." Amelia said, inclining her head politely in the direction of the Minister before levelling her gaze on Crouch. "Before we move on, however, I'll need a formal apology on behalf of my husband, and my house."

Crouch spluttered, his face turning crimson in barely contained fury and indignation. "I will not!" He managed at last. "It was Arcturus who interfered in Ministry affairs – he overstepped his authority!"

"He overstepped nothing." Arthur scoffed. "Don't forget the pecking order of the world, Barty. That's not the woman that's got your old job across from you – that's Lady Black."

"I'll not apologise for-"

"You will." Cornelius said, his voice low and dangerous. "I appreciate that Amelia is often in a difficult position, but she never allows her position in the Black family to affect her work. You'll apologise now, or you can hand your resignation in by the end of the hour."

There was silence in the room – to her side, Amelia could see that Dora was keeping her face even, even though she knew that the young woman would like nothing more than to curse Crouch into the next millennium, and, knowing that Sirius had shown her a thing or two over the years, she half expected she'd be able to manage it.

"Lady Black," Crouch began at long last, his jaw clenched tightly. "My apologies."

Amelia said nothing, only nodding her head the once – she knew better than to push for more than that, especially with someone like Crouch. The man had allowed a festering resentment of her husband's house to build for over a decade because of the ineptitude and gross misconduct he had shown before the entire Wizengamot – something that her department had still been trying to get on top of when she had stepped into the position.

"Auror Tonks, could you pass me the folder at the bottom – I think it best we move on." She said, holding her hand out to Dora and indicating the folder in particular with a flick of her finger. All around her, Amelia could feel the collective sighs of relief from those in the room – it was no secret that Fudge trod carefully around her ever since he had earned Sirius's ire.

Dora handed her the file in question, and Amelia smiled at her gratefully before clearing her throat. "Now," She began, opening the folder in question and glancing around the room. "Back onto the subject of Greyback; every Auror has been ordered to carry two silver daggers at all times, and thanks to certain members of their communities, we have been advised on the best methods of neutralising the target in either form."

"These… community members you refer to – I take it that they have been sufficiently warned as to the consequences of harbouring the fugitive?" Dolores asked, quirking her brow carefully.

Amelia thought she could hear her teeth grinding together, but somehow managed a polite nod. "They have. As it stands, and I'm sure Dirk will be able to confirm this, but our relationships with the Packs have never been better. We've also worked with Barty's department to make sure that the word has spread to Europe and America."

"Not Australia? Asia?" Vesta frowned, pursing her lips. "You don't think he could bolt there?"

Dora answered for her, shaking her head, and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear – she'd chosen a deep crimson colour for today. "From everything we've gathered, Fenrir wouldn't risk either – he'd draw too much attention to himself, and it's largely unfamiliar territory. We're aware he's navigated the globe on more than one occasion, but he prefers Europe – we don't know why. Psychological evaluations of a fugitive we've never captured are hard to come by." Dora shrugged nonchalantly.

"And the Dementors? You don't think they had any effect on Greyback's decision to head to Perth?" Fudge asked, stroking his chin slowly.

Amelia shook her head. "There's no evidence to support it. It may be just a dupe to throw us off his trail, but we won't take any chances. He's left a trail of bodies from Birmingham to Scotland; Muggle and Magical alike."

"What if he turns up at the school – will the Wards hold?" Arthur asked, his hands clutched anxiously together on the table.

"The staff are on high alert, and we've been completely transparent with them the entire time. They know who we're after, who the target is, and they receive Greyback's movements as soon as we do." Amelia said, offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "However, due to the presence of one Remus Lupin, we have to assume that Greyback may be able to enter the grounds."

"And if he was removed from the school? Hypothetically, of course." Korban asked from the other side of Dora. "My department knows a little about the Wards from what we've been able to piece together over the years, but in theory, if we removed one Werewolf from the school, wouldn't the Wards prevent another from entering?"

"You'd pull a teacher from the school so close to the exam period?" Vesta asked, frowning across the table at Korban. "That could damage the grades of the entire pool of graduates!"

"It was an idea." Korban shrugged. "The only person that knows how the Wards work, is the Headmaster, and I haven't come across any records of previous heads of the school that have been forthcoming on information regarding Hogwarts itself. It's rather frustrating, actually."

"Dumbledore wouldn't harm the children's grades like that." Arthur said, shaking his head. "He cares too much about their futures."

"Ah yes, a Basilisk roaming the halls for a year certainly didn't have any impact." Barty sniped, rolling his eyes.

"I won't be suggesting the removal of a professor so late in the year. Let the children continue as they have been – we don't need a panic, and we certainly don't want the intended victim to be made more aware than he likely already is." Amelia said – her voice was firm, unyielding as she took in the eyes around the room.

"You think Potter knows?" Fudge asked, his voice surprisingly soft and quiet. "Did Greyback manage to get something to him somehow?"

Dora laughed suddenly, and when all the eyes in the room fell on her, including Amelia's, she slapped a hand over her mouth, though her shoulders continued to tremble. "I'm sorry." She mumbled.

"No, please – if you find something amusing, I think it best we all hear it." Barty grunted, rubbing his brow with his fingers.

"Harry isn't stupid." Dora said after a reassuring nod from Amelia. "He's got the worst luck out of everyone I know, but he's not an idiot."

"He went at a Basilisk, by all accounts, with a sword." Korban scoffed.

"You're the head of the D.O.M – you know just as well as I do that spell fire is useless against Basilisk hide." Dora said, shrugging a single shoulder at the older man. "He's also a known Parselmouth – I'd argue that out of everyone in the Ministry, he actually stood the best chance of making it out alive."

"How many of you in this room have actually met Harry?" Amelia asked, the corner of her mouth twitching as Arthur grinned privately at her. "He's a bright boy, and it's quite clear that he's rather powerful in his own right. The Ministry has coined him as the one to defeat Voldemort for years, and you think he wouldn't have noticed things here and there over the past year? Merlin, he found the Chamber of Secrets in his second year!"

"Bet Sirius wasn't too pleased with that." Arthur chuckled to himself, and further down the table, Dirk snickered too.

"Yes, well," Cornelius muttered, clearing his throat awkwardly. "If that's the case, we need to make sure that in the event that Greyback makes it to Hogwarts, that a watch is put on Potter at all times."

"He has the heir of House Griffin keeping an eye on him." Amelia nodded, gently closing the folder on the table. "And I believe your boys were given instructions to keep an eye on him too?" She asked, looking at Arthur for a moment. He nodded.

"Fred and George are making sure he doesn't get himself into too much trouble."

"Yes, yes, but what about the staff? The adults?" Cornelis said irritably, leaning back in his chair and tapping the tip of a finger against the wood of the table. "As much as your boys are providing a service to the Ministry, Arthur, they're hardly to the same calibre as an experienced witch or wizard like Dumbledore and McGonagall."

"Bloody devious, though." Dora muttered into her mug beside her.

"The previously mentioned Remus Lupin has been appointed to Hogwarts by Sirius Black, in his power as one of the Board of Governors, to specifically keep an eye on Harry. There are other professors all willing to look out for him beyond their regular duties." Amelia said, folding her legs at the knee, and mentally cursing herself for wearing her charcoal pencil skirt that Sirius was rather fond of – it barely had any give; that was the last time she would let her husband pick out her bloody skirt while she had a shower. "He has plenty of eyes on him at all times."

"Are they capable?" Dirk asked, loosening his tie slightly.

"Pretty sure he has the entire Defence department chomping at the bit for a piece of Greyback." Dora scoffed, returning her mug to the coaster on the table. "Dumbledore has assured us of his safety as long as he's within the Hogwarts grounds – it's the best he can do. From Greyback, at least. It's hard to predict something like Malfoy's kid jumping him out of nowhere."

"Yes," Cornelius coughed, awkwardly. "Lucius was most… displeased about the whole affair."

Arthur snorted. "About which part – the fact that his heir was witnessed doing it, or the fact that the two boys defended themselves as well as they did?"

"He didn't specify." Fudge muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Now, I think that's quite enough of that morbid topic – unless you have anything more to add, Amelia?" She shook her head. "Excellent – that leaves your department, Barty; if you will."

Amelia turned to look at Barty – he sat taller in his chair and made a show of straightening his robes and clearing his throat. She barely managed to keep herself from openly rolling her eyes at him.

"Yes, well," He began, opening the folder that was set before him. "As you're all aware, England is set to host the Quidditch World Cup – I've been working with Bagman to finalise some of the preparations, and to manage the delegates that are set to arrive for the occasion."

"How many countries qualified this year?" Dirk asked, frowning, and cocking his head slightly.

"Thirty-Two – Lithuania and Ukraine have rescinded their desire to participate; according to their governments, it coincides with public events in their own territories they would prefer to focus on." Crouch replied, his voice only just skirting the edges of condescending.

"And they'll all play here?" Dolores asked, frowning. "Do we have a space sufficiently suitable?"

"We do – construction has already begun, thanks to Creswell's department. The Dwarves have been most helpful in that regard. The land was kindly provided to us for the Ministry's use by House Locke – there won't be any threat of Muggles coming across it." Crouch paused and turned a page in his folder. "Tickets will go on sale in June, and there is ample room for camping and such around the stadium. As it stands currently, each team will be accompanied by the respective Head of Government for each country."

"I'll begin drafting rotas for Aurors – if you could provide a map and any other relevant information for my department to look over, we'll make sure everyone's suitably protected." Amelia said, gesturing for Dora to take a quick note of it, which she did without complaint or hesitation. "If Greyback isn't caught before then, it might be a good target for him."

"Then let us hope he's been brought to justice before that becomes a concern." Fudge said, a touch too optimistically for Amelia's tastes. "Be sure to also provide tickets to the various Lords and their families."

"I'll see to it." Crouch nodded, to the both of them, though Amelia noticed he refused to meet her eye. "Black, you'll have the details by the end of the day."

"I believe that's everything on today's agenda?" Dolores asked, looking around the room with an arched brow, her eyes peering over the rim of those dreadful glasses.

"If you have a moment, Minister – Barty and I might have an idea to get the press on our side a little, if you're interested?" Korban said, just as Amelia and Dora both got to their feet. Amelia glanced at Dora out the corner of her eye and subtly shook her head.

"Yes, yes, of course." Cornelius said, waving a hand. "We need all the good press we can get at this point. The three of us will speak in my office." The Minister said, scooping up a handful of sheets of parchment before handing them to Dolores, who hovered at his side like some insipid insect. The comparison managed to leave a sour taste in her mouth.

"If we're not required, Minister, I'll need to return to my department." Amelia said, tearing her gaze away from the witch, and toward the head of government. The Minister nodded, and as Amelia quickly made her way around the table, Dora just behind her, she made sure to offer one last parting, friendly smile to Arthur before ducking out of the glass door, a pair of folders clutched to her side tightly.

The two of them hurried along the corridors in silence – the Ministry had few people in on a Saturday, and it was completely closed on a Sunday, so it felt larger and more cavernous than it ever did during the week.

All the while, Dora kept pace with her quick march – the dull thuds of her Auror-issued combat boots were a strange accompaniment to the click-clacks of Amelia's dark heeled office shoes. Yes, it was definitely the last time she was going to humour her husband when it came to her work clothes.

The two of them finally made it into the gilded elevator which led to the Auror department, and for the first time since stepping into the meeting room with the other heads of department, she allowed herself to let the stress and tension fall from her shoulders. She leaned against the back wall of the elevator and closed her eyes, the cool, solid metal behind her head made softer by the thickness of her hair. She blew one particularly vexing strand from her face with the corner of her mouth.

"Well, that was fun." Dora snorted, causing Amelia to slowly open her eyes. "Remind me to thank you for putting me down for a shift today." The young Metamorphmagus added, playfully glaring at her.

"Don't make me pull rank." Amelia grunted, running her free hand through her hair, making sure that her nails dragged along her scalp. "If you think I was sitting in that meeting and suffering alone…"

"Something, something, turn me into a toad." Dora grinned, offering a cheeky wink. "I thought we were past all of that."

"I draw the line at meetings with stuffy men and women dressed head to toe in pink." Amelia muttered, just as the chime in the elevator dinged and the doors opened. The two of them stepped out into the open-plan layout of the Auror department.

All throughout the large, cavernous room, there were rows upon rows of desks, and more than three floors of sealed offices lining the circumference. Her private office was located on the third floor, with a wall of glass that allowed her to overlook the entirety of her department. The two of them navigated their way around the room, between rows of cubicles and desks, nodding politely to the various Aurors on duty; some were filling out paperwork, while others were talking quietly amongst themselves, or to witnesses or suspects.

When the two of them entered her office, Amelia quickly dropped her folders onto her desk – grimacing at the mess it made to the carefully organised workstation, and quickly dimmed the glass wall for some privacy; something that wasn't uncommon, given her work. She dropped into the plush leather chair and heaved out a deep sigh, allowing the familiar aromas of the room to relax her as best they could.

In this room, there was no stupid, petty squabbles between departments, and she didn't have to watch what she said to men and women who could barely manage their jobs – the Senior Undersecretary in particular came to mind. The Minister could be competent in the rare few moments when the mood struck him, but he spent, in Amelia's personal and private opinion, worrying far too much about what people like Dondarrion and his lot thought.

Just the thought of those self-important wizards and witches made her lip curl in disgust, and an uncomfortable feeling settle in the pit of her stomach; for years she had tried to bring charges against those that had been able to escape sentencing following the Blood War, but she had been stymied every time she thought she was getting somewhere.

Sometimes, she half expected it to be Barty, the bitter, miserable man that he was – even with her investigation running as best as it had been able, she had been able to see evidence of his interference every now and then. Not even a month ago, she had been forced to attend a meeting in which Crouch had argued that some of her department's funding would be better served in his own. He hadn't gotten it, of course – there was a very public manhunt on for the most wanted man in Britain, and if it had leaked to the press, and she would have made sure Sirius discovered that piece of information, Fudge would have seen himself out of office quicker than he could say 'Merlin's Balls'.

Across the desk from her, Dora sank into her own chair and dropped her own folders unceremoniously on the floor by her feet; her hair had transformed from deep crimson to a vibrant pink at some point, and she had slouched in her chair with a tired yawn, locking her fingers over her stomach.

Dora had come a long way since Amelia had hand-picked her from her graduating class at the academy. She had shown a resolve uncommon among junior Aurors when she had followed Amelia into that factory – Amelia made sure that juniors were often paired with much more capable wizards and witches within the department to learn from for a few years before trusting them on something as dangerous as what Dora had so far experienced. Amelia's own mentor, Alastor, had always been a favourite of hers to assign fresh recruits to. She briefly wondered how he was doing – was retirement suiting him?

"I'm surprised you didn't curse him up and down the Ministry." Dora said at last, scratching her jaw idly. "I was this close to doing it on your behalf." The young woman said, grinning and holding her finger and thumb up to make her point.

"He's not worth it, frankly – his House will die with him; here, at least."

"Sirius told me there were a few others of his lot out there – you think they're all as miserable?"

"I've had to meet one or two…" Amelia hummed, huffing out a breath. "There's a definite family resemblance."

"You think Sirius will ever let us come along on one of your family trips?" Dora asked after a moment. "As much as I think I might regret it, I think if there's any more Crouch's out there, I'd have to see them to believe it."

"Maybe – I didn't even know about them until Arcturus sat me down and laid it all out for me. You're his favourite cousin, I'm sure you'd be able to persuade him." Amelia grinned, offering her own sly wink – if there was ever a weakness of her husband's that she loved to exploit, it was his favourite cousin. It seemed fair revenge for him choosing the skirt she was currently suffering. "All joking aside, we should probably prepare for the next time Greyback appears on our radar; I know we didn't mention it in that meeting, but that sighting of him heading to Perth was over a week old – he can cover a lot of ground in that time."

The humour drained from Dora's face, replaced quickly by her cool, professional façade. "It was even a full moon two days ago as well – he can cover at least twice the distance he normally could too. Where do you think he'll surface again?"

Amelia shook her head slowly and massaged the back of her stiff neck with a hand. "Not a clue – I'm not familiar with Scotland. We haven't heard of any killings that match up with one of his attacks though, and that has me nervous."

"Might be worth alerting the Auror offices up in Scotland again." Dora suggested, folding her own legs, and moving her hands to rest on the arms of the chair. "We couldn't give them any more than we already have, mind you…"

There was a knock on the glass door, and with a wave of her hand, Amelia opened the door with a brush of magic. In the doorway stood Anthony Williamson, one of the Aurors that had been left in critical care following the events at the warehouse. He'd returned to duty quickly and had been one of the key Aurors in the hunt for Greyback.

As it was a Saturday, he was without his usual grey muggle three-piece suit that he usually wore around the office and was instead dressed in a simple black shirt with a sage green tie; the tie, she knew, to be the colour of the hundred-eighty-first platoon.

"Williamson, take a seat."

"Ma'am." He said, smiling tightly and hurrying to the spare seat; his voice had a refreshing, subtle Irish twang that was uncommon in the Ministry of Magic's main building – there were other offices spread throughout the countries that made up the United Kingdom, and most with any specific heritage usually ended up working locally. "How did the meeting go?" He asked, adjusting his tie as he made himself comfortable.

"About as well as you can expect – the Dementors are likely to be removed from Hogwarts soon, though I wasn't given a specific timeframe."

"That's good." Anthony said, his eyes flickering between herself and Dora. "Isn't it?"

"Should've seen Amelia tear into Fudge; wish I'd had a camera. It was glorious." Dora snickered; Amelia forgave her the use of her name – she knew Anthony from her own days being trained as an Auror. "Crouch was his usual self, and Weasley wasn't having any of it."

"He's got kids there, right? What is it, like… four of them?"

"Five." Dora answered. "Word is, Percy's looking for a job here at the Ministry."

"At least the pay will be decent." Williamson shrugged, evidently unfamiliar with the many children of Arthur Weasley beyond the absurd number of them. Even Amelia, who hoped for what she considered a large family, wouldn't have any more than three. The thought of going into labour that many times made her insides clench uncomfortably.

"Says you." Dora laughed, rolling her eyes. "I still get paid the grunt's wages."

"But you do get hazard pay." Amelia said, cocking an amused brow at the woman. "More than most, being in Gold. Speaking of, how's the replacements for Alder coming along?" She asked, looking to Williamson, and idly tapping a finger on the arm of her chair.

"Better – we reshuffled a little, after… well, everything, so we've got a healthy mixture of experienced and fresh. I've been putting them through their paces in the training rooms and assigning various cases to them. Not much more I can do beyond that, though."

Dora frowned and chewed her bottom lip, and Amelia sympathised with the young woman; back in the war, when Amelia had first signed up, it wasn't uncommon for entire platoons to be wiped out in a single mission – during what was supposed to be peacetime, though…

"Gold is always happy to put the hundred-eighty-first in its place in the War Games, Williamson." Dora said, at last. Amelia knew it was Dora's way of expressing her sympathy for the entire platoon's annihilation six months before, and she appreciated it.

Like Nymphadora, Amelia had once been a part of the three-two-seven Gold Platoon. There was a camaraderie and friendly rivalry between the various platoons that was encouraged with the regular War Games exercises that Alastor had introduced years before even she had joined the corps. There wasn't a single platoon within the Ministry, no matter their location and regular deployment, that hadn't offered volunteers to refill those positions that had so suddenly and tragically become vacant.

The Aurors always had one another's back. It was a point of pride for her.

"I appreciate it – maybe we'll surprise you." Anthony smiled, gratefully, before turning to face Amelia. "I just wanted to let you know, the latest on that creature smuggler in Cornwall has come in."

Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose – there were always half a dozen or more high priority cases that were being investigated at the same time; she wondered what it would be like if wizards and witches didn't try to traffic some exotic, illegal creature every other month. "Alright – I'll let Thompson know first thing Monday. It's his case."

"Tell the Clerks that – I keep getting his files dumped on my desk." Anthony said with a roll of his eyes. "At this point, I'm half convinced they're doing it on purpose."

"They're just showing you that they care." Dora grinned, gently bumping her elbow with his. She looked like she was about to say more when a claxon rang throughout the room beyond the window, and red lights flashed ominously.

Immediately, all three were on their feet and heading out the door – Amelia took the lead, quickly sweeping past both Anthony and Dora, who had both lost all signs of previous humour. She rushed to the railing and peered over; the claxon was used in the event something drastic had happened in a high-profile case, and immediately, Amelia's heart was in her throat.

Below her, she could see the heads of those that were in the office look around frantically – there was shouting, and a moment later, Shacklebolt stumbled from the elevator, wheezing, and clutching at his stomach as if winded. He was dripping in sweat.

"Kingsley! What's going on?" She demanded, her voice carrying clear over the background din of the claxons.

"Greyback!" He called back, and the room fell eerily silent – even the claxons stopped their incessant wailing, as if his name alone had demanded their silence. "He's killed someone – a kid, at Hogsmeade!"

A cold feeling swept through Amelia from head to toe, her knees felt weak, and her hands were suddenly warm and clammy.

Hogsmeade.

He was closer to Harry than he'd ever managed before.

Harry!

Susan!

Amelia blinked, and all of her training made all of the necessary decisions for her. "Deploy as many as we can spare to Hogsmeade! Evacuate any students still in the town back to the castle; I want a list of every single student that was out of the castle today ready for me by the time I get there. Cordon off the surrounding area around the victim, and Kingsley-" She ordered, already marching toward the stairs as people below her began hurrying to fulfil her orders.

"Ma'am?" He responded; his voice was stronger now that his breathing was back under control.

"I'll be joining you at the crime scene."

"Yes ma'am!" He said, nodding his head once before darting back into the elevator from which he'd arrived. Amelia glanced up and over her shoulder – both Dora and Williamson were hot on her heels, both with grim expressions on their faces.

"It won't be anyone below third year." Dora said, flatly. "And not a chance Greyback would get the drop on Remus."

"You've got a lot of faith in this Remus bloke." Anthony sighed. "We thought we were on edge when we breached the warehouse – he still tore us to shreds."

"You're not a Werewolf." Dora replied, and Amelia silently prayed she was right – if Greyback had somehow managed to separate Harry from Remus… Merlin, she didn't even know if Harry had planned on going to Hogsmeade this weekend. What about Susan? Had she said anything about Hogsmeade recently? She couldn't remember. No, she couldn't think that way – Harry would be fine, it was just another case, just like any other. She had to remain detached. Professional.

Gods, who was she kidding – she was worried sick, and she hadn't even made it to the bottom of the stairs yet.

When she did eventually make it to the countless neat rows of cubicles and desks, everyone made way for her, and she took full advantage of the parting crowd to make a beeline for the elevator to the barracks below.

The ride down was slow and tense – both Williamson and Dora were with her, the muscles in both their jaws twitching as they stared at the polished, gilded interior of the elevator. Above them, the light flickered every now and then, but eventually, the familiar ding rang out, somehow shriller than normal, and the three didn't waste a second.

Williamson and Dora were ahead of her, both able to move quicker in their regular shoes and boots, before separating into their assigned ready rooms. Amelia followed after Dora, who already had her locker open and was quickly getting changed by the time Amelia entered.

She made her way over to her own locker – the same one she'd had since she had first been assigned to Gold – and made short work of stripping down to her underwear. Wearing a pencil skirt and blouse were stupid when she was going out into the field, and even more so when Greyback was involved. She didn't even bother to neatly fold anything, just tossed the shed clothes into the locker, and pulled out her old Auror uniform and armour.

Her size hadn't changed much over the years, and she had made sure to keep up her same habits from the days of field work, even though it hadn't been all that long since she had taken up her current position. She tugged the trousers and top on before tugging on her combat boots, making sure her trousers were tucked into them comfortably. After that came the armour, and just as she finished tightening it, Dora appeared behind her, checking her straps, and giving everything a careful once over.

"He'll be alright, you know." Dora whispered. "Susan too."

"I know." She breathed, busying herself with securing her hair out of her face. "I know." She repeated, quieter.

"Come on, we need to get you your daggers from the armoury." Dora said at last, slapping her shoulder as Amelia pulled the familiar, worn Auror cloak from her locker and threw it around her shoulders, the two of them already halfway out the door.

Williamson was already in the armoury when they arrived, weaving around a dozen Aurors as they gathered what they needed, and held a belt out to her as she approached. She took it with a tight-lipped smile and cinched it around her waist, and Dora quickly pilfered a thigh holster for her second blade. Redundancies. It was easy to lose one weapon in a fight, less so to lose two.

"Everyone's setting off as soon as they're ready – not the best method, but it's so sudden, and everyone's trickling in from, well… everywhere." Anthony shrugged with a frown. "For all we know, he could be picking everyone off as soon as they arrive."

"We don't know that." Amelia sighed, making slight, final adjustments to the positions of her blades. "We'll deal with the situation when we get there."

"Yes ma'am." He murmured, nodding tightly.

"Hey," She said, grabbing his shoulder firmly. "This time, he won't be able to hide in any dark corners. We have the advantage right now."

What she didn't say, is that it was entirely possible he was no longer in the area. Hogsmeade was a large place, and it was likely that Greyback had long-since made his escape. But she knew what really troubled Williamson; she'd known him long enough for that at least. The Aurors hadn't been deployed like this since the warehouse, and no matter what he and the others said, or what they told their Mind Healers, nobody had come away from that operation without some scars, physical or psychological.

"Alright," She said, "Let's go."


By the time she arrived in the centre of Hogsmeade, directly in the centre of the main square – Cardinal Square – she was already surrounded by empty homes and deserted shops; doors hung half-open from the hurried evacuation, and Aurors patrolled the area in large numbers.

A canvas pavilion with no sides had been erected in the middle of the square, and red-robed Aurors darted in and out, hurrying this way and that. In the background thrum of the excitement, she could hear the frenzied radio chatter as squads and platoons communicated with one another.

Behind her, both Dora and Williamson appeared; like her, their wands were clenched tightly in their hands. Everything had been happening so quickly that there had been little to no information as to the situation within the town itself – for all they had known, they'd been Apparating into a firefight.

Amelia nodded to herself and marched toward the tent, her chest tightening in pride as to the reaction of her department – they had mobilised in such force in a remarkably short amount of time. It had barely even been thirty minutes, and already the evacuation of Hogsmeade seemed to be well underway, and a command post had already been established.

As she entered the tent, held aloft through three evenly spaced wooden poles and some impressive spell work, her eye caught the tables filled with Scrying Bowls; the clear liquid in each lapping at the edges as the gentle breeze of the day wafted across their surfaces.

"Director!" A familiar voice called, startling her – her eyes swept the tent and immediately focused on the familiar face of Rufus Scrimgeour; his bushy, wild red hair was windswept and looked to be the victim of his anxious habit of rubbing at his scalp. Amelia glanced over her shoulder at the two Aurors that had followed her.

"Go to your platoons – they'll need you both." She said, allowing her eyes to rest a little longer on Williamson than Dora. "Be careful; operate as if he were still here."

"You think he won't be?" Dora asked with a confused frown.

"I think it best not to make assumptions about Greyback – we've no idea what he might do." Amelia replied, offering one final nod before hurrying to a still waving Scrimgeour.

Upon her arrival, he offered a tight, polite smile, though his eyes conveyed the relief he felt clearly enough. "Glad to see you, Director."

"Rufus." She nodded, placing her hands on her hips as she glanced at the table they were hovering before. The two of them were standing on a slightly raised platform that afforded a more commanding view of the tent as a whole, but also served to hold a large oak table in the centre of it. All around the table, men, and women she didn't recognise poured over a map of the town, murmuring to one another, and shouting orders here and there, or quickly speaking into their handheld radios.

The map of Hogsmeade hovered above the table itself, made entirely of floating orange particles of magic that were semi-translucent and glowed pleasantly in the dim light of the tent. She leaned on the table itself and peered at a slowly expanding circle around the central square.

"This is the evacuation?" She asked, glancing at Scrimgeour, who nodded.

"Aye – as more Aurors come in, we can expand the area with more security. We're going building-to-building at the moment; it's going slower than I'd like."

"It's impressive for how little time you've had."

"We were all motivated." He replied with a simple shrug. "Just doing our jobs, ma'am."

Amelia nodded and turned her gaze back to the map of the town before her; taking in the small details that formed in the magical mist; the peaks of the buildings, and even the crimson balls of light that must have represented her Aurors. "Where was the body found?"

"Just here." Rufus said, pointing a finger to a small side street only a little to the south of their current position, which promptly turned into a powerful violet; highlighted for future reference. "Auror found her on patrol; we have the crime scene set up in one of the buildings just over there." He said, hooking a thumb in the direction of a nearby pub. "Spooks are going over it now."

"Korban already sent his people?" She asked, frowning at the mention of the Department of Mysteries specialists. "How did he hear about it before I did?"

"He didn't send them – they're from the local branch; headed up by one…" Rufus paused and quickly trailed a finger down a piece of parchment she hadn't noticed that he clutched in his other hand. "Aleska Fylle. Seems like she's the big boss around here."

"And where is she?" Amelia asked, glancing around the tent. "In here or in the pub with the crime scene?"

"Pub – you just missed her; she came in to grab something and then left just as quickly. You want to go see the scene?"

"It'd be for the best – once I know exactly what the situation is, I'll be able to offer any support I can."

"It's your operation as far as I'm concerned – you're the boss." Rufus shrugged, leading the way down the double steps of the raised platform, swiping a pair of radios from a nearby table as he did so, offering her one as he pocketed his own alongside the parchment. "Radio, before I forget."

Amelia nodded and smiled tightly, quickly rotating the dial to the command frequency the department ran on; she would be able to give orders to the many platoon leaders that were already deployed, and those that would deploy as soon as they arrived. "Appreciated." She said, quickly pocketing the radio as they left the tent. "So, what can you tell me? Kingsley didn't say much beside the obvious."

"I don't blame him." Scrimgeour grunted, swerving around an Auror that sprinted past. Above the two of them, a flight of Aurors on brooms soared overhead. "It's not either of yours, so you can stop stressing about that – initial reports are coming in from the castle; neither left today, nor did any of their friends."

Relief flooded her entire system, and for a brief moment, her knees felt like they might give out. From the moment Shacklebolt had burst into the department and alerted her to the crisis, her stomach had been flip-flopping uncomfortably with anxiety; her mind had come up with a hundred different scenarios and outcomes, and each one had been more terrible than the last.

She looked at the man beside her, craning her head back slightly to look him in the eye, and though she said nothing aloud, she imagined the relief was clear on her face. He nodded and continued walking toward the pub.

The building itself was weatherworn; the white plaster was covered in grime and clearly showed its age. Above the door was a little sign that swung gently back and forth as it was buffeted by the breeze: The Lion's Den.

Rufus led the way in, shouldering open the door with a dull thud, and against her better judgement, Amelia felt her nose scrunch out of sheer instinct as the smell of the interior assaulted her nose. It was dark inside, and she could smell the deep, choking aroma of beer. She grimaced at the slight sticking noise of the soles of her boots as she made her way over the threshold and closed the door behind her.

Scrimgeour paused and looked at her over his shoulder, dropping his voice to a barely perceptible whisper. "I told her about Greyback. Didn't seem right keeping it from her, all things considered."

"No point in hiding it from her." Amelia shrugged. "I assume the Aurors know?"

"Each one of them." He nodded.

The two of them made for the stairs to the basement, located in a back room behind the counter, which had been covered in dozens of glasses, all with varying amounts of alcohol remaining in them – apparently they'd been an inconvenience to happy hour.

The basement was much as she had already expected it to have been, only the ceiling was higher and arched lazily. Along the walls were stacks and stacks of casks of beer and other ales, each one with large lettering stamped on the side denoting where it had come from and what it actually was.

In the middle of the flagstone floor were a number of Spooks, a nickname for the often-mysterious men and women that came from the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. They hovered around a representation of the crime scene, made of the same orange particles that had formed the map of the town, each one taking notes and murmuring quietly with one another.

In the far corner, a small group congregated around a table, though they at least turned to look at the two of them when Rufus cleared his throat. One woman in particular – younger than herself, and with a thick head of dark hair that was tied up in a neat bun, and pale green eyes – separated from her team and made her way over to the two of them.

"Senior Auror Scrimgeour, I assume you need something from my team and I?" The woman asked; Amelia judged this one to be Aleska. Rufus had mentioned she was young, but it still took Amelia a moment to reconcile it within her own mind – she looked to have barely entered her twenties. "And you brought a friend, I see."

"Director Black, D.M.L.E." Amelia said, offering her hand and smiling tightly. Aleska eyed it curiously and seemed to wage some kind of internal debate within herself before finally accepting and pumping it once. Amelia didn't miss how Aleska wiped her hand absently on her trouser leg.

"Well, I assume you're here to go over everything yourself – please try not to interfere with my team; they do their work best when left undisturbed. If you have any questions, simply direct them to me." Aleska said before gesturing to the flickering scene before them. "As you can see, we have a recreation of the scene here, fed live information from a number of devices we have positioned in key areas."

"This is new." Scrimgeour grunted, rubbing at his chin roughly.

"Well," Aleska began, arching her brow and tilting her head slightly. "Your Aurors believed the situation far too dangerous for my team and I to effectively do our jobs as we normally would – so we decided to field-test a little project we've been working on. It seems to be doing the trick so far."

"But what of any evidence?" Amelia found herself asking, frowning.

"We have methods of moving an object between two points once highlighted in the scene. All preliminary tests have shown no ill effects to the evidence gathered. One of my team simply highlights what they wish, and the magic does the rest."

"Clever." Rufus grunted, his eyes settling on the scene before the two of them. "I assume that you set the Aurors that I'd assigned to watch over you to guard the scene and mind these devices of yours?"

"Very astute, Senior Auror." Fylle sniffed, and Amelia got the distinct impression that she hadn't appreciated Scrimgeour's initial placement of Aurors. "Now, shall we dispense with the small-talk? As you can see, my team and I are rather busy."

"First of all, I'd like to know how they work – I didn't authorise any field testing at this scene, and I don't want to risk corrupting any evidence." Amelia said, folding her arms across her chest and levelling the agent with a pointed look.

Agent Fylle blew out an impatient breath and shifted her weight from foot to foot. "Much like that satellite map you have set up in your command tent – courtesy of my team and I, of course – we have four pylons set up at each corner of the scene that project an image to their paired pylons in this room. We simply harness Wild Magic to visualise it all."

"And moving the evidence between there and here?" She asked, her eyes darting to an agent by the far wall that carried something imperceptible in an evidence bag. "How do you move it? Exactly."

"Localised Apparition on an inanimate object." Aleska shrugged. "We can be accurate to a quarter of a millimetre."

"Impressive." Rufus muttered, offering her a shrug when she glanced at him.

Amelia shook her head and blew a breath of air out of her nose as she turned to survey the scene before her; she'd tried hard to keep her eyes looking in any direction but the scene before her the entire time they'd been in the basement. She had been to countless crime scenes over the course of her career, but no amount of training could keep her objectional and detached when the victim was a child.

Even through the devices that Aleska Fylle had briefly mentioned – Amelia had to admit she wasn't happy that they were being field-tested during this particular investigation – the horror of the scene was clear to see.

The first thing her eyes fell upon were the vacant ones of the victim; they stared blankly ahead, and thick tracks of tears stained her cheeks. It wasn't difficult to imagine Susan's face, or Harry's, in their place. How long had the girl suffered before finally succumbing to the injuries; how many of them had she suffered before she had died?

Slowly, Amelia's eyes drifted lower, to the torn, shredded flesh of her throat – or lack-thereof, for that matter. Blood had pooled from the corner of the young girl's mouth and had mixed with the dark stains that had flowed from her devastating injury. A breeze buffeted the corpse outside, and the image projected the strands of hair around her face, that weren't matted with blood, and the loose flaps of skin that remained on her neck, moving as they no-doubt did only a street or two away. Amelia felt her stomach churn.

Lower, Amelia's eyes passed over the stained flannel shirt the girl wore and brought a hand up to cover her mouth as she took in the state of her ruined chest and stomach. The shirt was torn open, her modesty forgotten, and her chest and stomach had been torn out completely. Without getting closer – not that she particularly wanted to – Amelia could identify half a dozen organs that were either laying in the girl's lap or strewn about the ground around her.

For a brief moment, Amelia closed her eyes for a moment and took the opportunity to take a long breath through her nose, but the image was burned into her retina, almost like a scar. Her stomach roiled like the waves of the ocean in the middle of a storm, and for a while, Amelia thought she may need to throw up. She crushed the urge with all of the control over her own body that she could muster and willed her stomach to still.

When her eyes reopened, she continued to look upon the injuries of the victim; one leg was outstretched and seemed to only be attached by a few threads of fabric from her jeans, while the other was half-folded beneath her. Large gouges ran up and down the girl's legs, and what Amelia assumed to have once been blue denim – colour meant very little when everything was formed out of floating orange particles – was stained significantly darker and pooled around beneath her.

Eventually, Amelia managed to tear her eyes from the victim, but not before repeating her initial inspection two more times, and turned to look at the rest of the scene. It looked like any number of identical side-streets that littered Hogsmeade and came with all of the expected detritus as a result.

There was the usual amount of litter one could expect in a town like this – thin, plastic and paper shopping bags fluttered with each gentle gust of wind, caught against the brick walls, or against the single stone bollard that was placed in the centre of the path.

A dusting of moss grew in the crevices of the brick building the victim was propped up against, but nothing else jumped out to her eye. Not even the large pools of blood that covered the cobblestone in a wide circle held any clue – there weren't even any footprints!

"There's no tracks." Rufus muttered, stepping into the scene itself – the floating particles danced from his movement and quickly reformed their previous images. "Nothing at all." In the light of the magic floating around him, Rufus looked years older; his cheeks were hollow, and his eyes were ringed by dark, puffy circles.

Amelia glanced at Aleska, who appeared content to simply watch the two of them process the information before them in their own time. "What have you been able to put together so far?"

Aleska turned to regard her, a single brow cocked. "We have some initial findings, and more information is coming to light the longer we're working on the scene. The good news is, we know the victim's name: Alison Hawthorne. A Muggle-born from Ravenclaw and a fourth year."

"Any indication as to when Greyback grabbed her?" Rufus asked, still slowly turning, and surveying the scene. "We only have when she was found."

Aleska blew out a breath and placed her hands on her hips. "It's difficult to say – we know the Hogwarts students don't arrive at Hogsmeade until roughly ten, but we won't know more about some of her injuries until we can autopsy the body; we'll also be able to narrow-down time-of-death."

"Alright." Amelia nodded, heaving a quiet sigh. "We'll leave you to your work – if you need anything just let either of us know."

Aleska nodded once, her lips pressed tightly together. "Director." She said before turning on her heel and returning to the men and women that hovered at the back of the room.

Amelia waved her hand for Rufus to follow her, and without wasting any more time, Amelia led the two of them out of the basement and back towards the tent, her brow furrowed, and her bottom lip pinched between her teeth.

"You're making that face again." Rufus sighed, rubbing at his forehead tiredly. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that you should still be in Ireland, where I sent you." She answered, immediately. "And you definitely shouldn't be on duty today."

"I was getting caught up on paperwork when the call came in – every branch was mobilised. Didn't realise the time." He shrugged, halting as she came to a stop suddenly. "What?" He asked, frowning.

Amelia glanced around the square – she had come to a stop roughly halfway between the pub and the tent, and nobody was so close they would overhear their conversation. Still, Amelia knew it still paid to be cautious, especially during an operation as large and sudden as this one; everyone was on edge and one misheard word could be the start of a catastrophe. "Something isn't right about all of this."

"No shit – a kid's dead." Rufus scoffed.

"You know what I mean, Rufus! You saw that crime scene – and you know just as well as I do the state of his usual victims."

"Yeah, he likes to infect kids. Rips apart adults." Scrimgeour muttered, placing his hands on his hips, and glaring at the cobblestone floor between the two of them. "Why change that pattern?"

"I don't know." Amelia grunted in response. "Greybacks victims have always been predictable – it's his movements that we've had trouble with. So why is he changing it up now? Why not twenty years ago?"

Rufus raised his head, chewing on his bottom lip as he glanced around the square. "Get us to react differently? Find holes he could exploit in our responses? Throw us off?"

"But he'd have to know that we'd increase our presence in the area if he attacked anyone so close to the school." She answered. "He's not an idiot."

"I'm really missing the old man right about now." Rufus sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands tiredly. "Alastor could've grabbed him in an afternoon."

Amelia smiled, surprising herself. There was a fond place in her heart for her mentor – Alastor Moody was a grumpy man, even if half of his limbs were missing these days – but there was something about the way his mind worked that could piece together seemingly innocuous clues and find what they were looking for. She wondered how he was finding retirement. "An hour, probably." She snorted with a roll of her eyes. Alastor held a number of records that remained unbroken in the department for field work.

"Come on, we can worry about all of this later – right now we need to make sure everyone gets out safe." Rufus said at last before moving off to the tent, patting her on the shoulder as he moved by her.

Amelia remained where she was for a moment, her lips pursed as her mind ran through a thousand possibilities at once. There was something about the attack that they were missing, and for some reason, she had a sinking feeling in her stomach that they were playing into the hands of the monster they were after.


It was hours later, with the sun long-since set, and a sombre mood having settled over the castle, that Amelia finally found herself in the halls of Hogwarts. The halls were lit by pale, floating orbs of silver-white light that floated above black-iron sconces, and the many suits of impressive armour stood at attention in the many alcoves that lined the corridors.

All the students – minus the Prefects in the upper two years who had volunteered to assist both her own Aurors and the Professors – were confined to their Common Rooms until told otherwise. It was likely that wouldn't be until the morning, when the school could share in their grief over the death of one of their own.

Her lips pressed themselves tightly together at the thought of another student having been killed – the death of Justin Finch-Fletchley the previous year had come as a shock to the entire nation. Hogwarts was renowned as being one of the most secure places in the country – it was one of the many reasons so many of the various Houses sent their heirs and spares to it, rather than any of the other dozen or more dotted throughout the country.

Two dead, in just as many years.

It was times like this that she really wished Sirius had stuck to his plan to have Harry and Susan wrapped up in cotton wool and hidden away at Arpton, where nobody could reach them. Instead, the two of them were here, at Hogwarts, with a killer that evaded her Aurors at every bloody turn!

She shook her head and moved quickly, her boots thumping against the flagstone beneath her with dull thuds, and the few buckles on her armour rattled and clanked with each step. Her crimson cloak whipped and snapped at her ankles; she must have made quite the sight to many of the students.

Amelia jogged up the stairs to the seventh floor, passing patrolling Prefects, Aurors, and Professors as she climbed, finally coming to a stop before the portrait of The Fat Lady, who eyed her suspiciously. "Professor McGonagall has given me leave to enter the Gryffindor Common Room."

"Indeed." The portrait responded, though she looked as if she'd rather do anything but comply. After a moment – where Amelia genuinely debated levelling her wand at the portrait – the portrait finally swung open on silent hinges.

It had been years since Amelia had graduated from the school, but she could still recall, with perfect clarity, the many evenings she'd spent in their own Common Room, surrounded by the earthy smell of all the plants, and the mouth-watering aromas that would waft in from the kitchens, curled up on one of the many couches reading a book or talking with friends.

Many of those friends were dead now, killed in the closing months of the Blood War, and those that had survived… they weren't the same. She wasn't the same.

In those days, their greatest intrigues were usually what the other houses got up to in their own Common Rooms; the Ravenclaws, they had theorised, would all be curled up with their books, the Slytherin's would be the quietest, and the Gryffindor's would be impossibly loud and be terrorised by the Marauders.

But as she stepped through the portrait hole and entered the Common Room of Gryffindor, she was greeted by nothing but silence. The fireplace on the far side of the room was dead, and not a soul could be seen. There wasn't even a single sheaf of parchment left on one of the many tables; it seemed that all of Gryffindor had retreated to their rooms.

She hurried across the room and quickly made her way up the stairs to the set of rooms that she knew both Harry and Neville shared. The door was already ajar, and a warm light spilled into the stairway. Amelia entered quietly and smiled privately to herself at the sight of Neville and Harry on either side of Sirius, the three of them sat on a large sofa before the crackling fire.

To their left, closest to the door, was Hermione, furiously scribbling away at something with a familiar dipping-pen that glinted in the firelight. At the back of the room, Remus flicked through a book, his legs crossed at the knee. She couldn't see the other three boys that Harry and Neville shared this space with.

"Amelia." Sirius breathed, the relief in his voice clear for all to hear. He pressed a quick, loving kiss to the top of Harry's head and got to his feet, covering the distance between the two of them in a blur. He swept her up in his arms, armour, and all, and held her tightly to him.

She relaxed into the man, her nose twitched at the familiar scent of her husband, and she found herself smiling, despite the tragedy of the day. "I'm alright, Sirius." She murmured, though that didn't stop him from taking half a step back and performing a quick visual inspection.

He cupped her face gently and kissed her – it was quick, chaste, but that didn't matter. It still conveyed everything. Her magic fluttered pleasantly at his touch, vibrating just beneath her skin.

"We were worried." Remus said, appearing at Sirius's shoulder and drawing her into a hug of his own. "Poor Sirius had to be sat down with a bit of persuasion – nearly wore a hole into the castle."

"Daphne threatened to neuter Padfoot if he didn't sit his arse down." Neville offered with a strained grin, appearing with the children shortly after Remus. Harry was rubbing at his eyes tiredly and attempting to stifle a yawn, while Hermione appeared anxious enough for the lot of them.

Sirius huffed and rolled his eyes but didn't move. "Susan's alright? Pomona said she was staying with the Hufflepuff's tonight, and Andromeda's down with the Slytherin's." He paused and glanced at Remus. "Was it Flitwick or Delafose that went to Ravenclaw?"

"Both." Remus answered. "Horace and Severus are with the Slytherin's too. Pomona's also got Dale and Connor helping her. The students are well protected, should anything happen."

"Nothing will happen, right?" Hermione asked in a quiet voice. When Amelia looked at the girl, Hermione was fidgeting with her fingers, and her face was pale.

"No." Amelia answered, stepping around Sirius, dropping to a knee and quickly wrapping her arms around the young Gryffindor. Hermione quickly returned the hug, her arms wrapping around Amelia's shoulders and squeezing. "Nothing's going to happen; to any of you." She said, looking at the two boys who were fidgeting nervously.

The three children nodded, though she felt Hermione's nod more than she saw it. After a moment, Amelia rocked back on her heels and quickly patted Hermione's hair and offered her the most reassuring smile she could manage. In truth, Amelia didn't know what was going to happen when it came to Greyback.

The town had been cleared and checked over extensively – in fact, Scrimgeour, despite her protests, had remained in the town even while she had come to the school, and continued to check over every last inch of it. The residents of Hogsmeade had been offered shelter in the nearby Dwarven city, though they would be kept very close to the surface and away from the hidden depths.

Some of the residents had kicked up a fuss, but Amelia's Aurors had quickly managed the situation. She couldn't be worrying about the locals when overseeing the hunt for Greyback – not when he was so close to the school.

She didn't know what was worse – that Greyback had been so bold and brazen as to attack someone so close to the school, or that he had managed to get away without any trace. Not even Agent Fylle, who hadn't left her makeshift laboratory in the pub basement, had been able to reveal any possible clue about Greyback's movements.

Amelia sighed and glanced around the room; Sirius hovered closest to her, and Remus had a hand on both Harry and Neville's shoulders, his amber eyes flickering in the firelight. "Where are the other boys?" She asked, glancing at the closed doors.

"Ron's with his brothers, and the other two are with some other boys in the year. Next door, I believe." Remus answered.

Amelia nodded slowly, pursing her lips before glancing at the three children. "Come on then, it's probably best the three of you get to bed."

Neville and Hermione nodded tiredly, though Amelia caught Hermione's eyes drifting over to Harry – it was sweet, that even in times like this, the girl still thought only of Harry. Harry, while his eyes drifted to Hermione, stubbornly frowned.

"Shouldn't we stay together? Hermione can have my room, I don't mind sleeping in here, or I could bunk with Neville."

Remus chuckled under his breath and patted Harry on the shoulder, while Amelia felt the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. She moved toward Harry and lowered herself to her knees, thankful for the warm, thick rug between her and the flagstone. She cupped his face gently and brushed a few loose strands of hair from his face.

Really, they had only really known one another for a little under two years, but ever since the death of Arcturus, their relationship had grown in leaps and bounds – at first, Harry was polite, if a little distant; but ever since those private moments after Arcturus's funeral, she found herself quite surprised at just how much that had changed.

Two years ago, Harry wouldn't have allowed her to be so familiar with him – he would likely have taken a small step towards Sirius, or changed the topic of conversation, but now, he leaned into her touch and closed his eyes. There were precious few that he allowed himself to be comforted by, a result, she knew, of just how much he tried to shoulder everything himself.

"It's a good idea." She said, quietly. Around her, she could hear Remus move Neville off to his room, and Sirius quietly guiding Hermione to her own dorm – he would have to leave her at the bottom of the stairs and trust she made it to her room. Amelia made a note to check on Hermione before she left. "But we need everyone to be where they're supposed to be tonight just in case something happens. You understand, right?"

Harry nodded and blinked at her tiredly. Amelia glanced over his shoulder at his bedroom door. "Come on." She whispered. "Let's get you to bed – you still have school tomorrow."

"Is the school going to stay open?" Harry mumbled, allowing himself to be led to the door – even though it was closed, Amelia could still hear the soft chirps and barks of Clara and Hedwig.

Amelia opened the door gently, not wanting to startle either of the birds, though she suspected both were well aware of both herself and the boy behind her – Familiar's were clever like that; her own, Flopsy, had always known when she needed his comforting presence. Her chest and magic twanged with the familiar, longing ache of her companion – he had long since passed, leaping between her and a spell that would have ended her life shortly after she graduated. Sometimes she wondered if he would have liked Harry – he had certainly enjoyed Sirius. "It'll stay open." She answered, wrenching her mind from travelling down the dangerous path of 'What-If's'.

She ushered Harry through the door and smiled to herself as he was immediately set upon by both birds. Hedwig settled on his right shoulder, and began nipping his loose hair affectionately, fluttering her wings as she did so. Clara settled on the end of his bed, her wings spread wide, and her hooked beak parted slightly in what looked like a strange smile.

Harry immediately settled into fussing over the two birds, wrapping one arm around Clara's strong neck, and his free hand scratching Hedwig under the chin until her golden eyes closed. Amelia's eyes flickered around the room; he kept it clean and tidy, and everything seemed to be in its proper place.

His sword hung, sheathed in its scabbard, from its belt on the wall, the emerald eyes of Clara's bust on the hilt glinting in the pale moonlight that filtered in through the windows. Just below it, his armour sat on a mannequin, and she thanked the Gods that Harry hadn't gotten it into his head this year to go after Greyback. That was the last thing she needed.

Her eyes danced along the wall, passing the portrait of Arpton, which even now, she had to fight the urge to gather up the children and rush them back to Blackwall to hide beyond the Ro'rim. They could be safe there – Greyback couldn't even come close to finding them if they retreated there. But neither Harry, nor Susan, would ever forgive them if they did just that.

Past that, her eyes fell upon the tapestry that sat in pride-of-place next to the slightly ajar window. Her feet moved of their own volition, and before she knew it, she found herself standing before it, fingers tracing the sweeping, stylised lines.

She had seen the original – she had been present when her own name and image had appeared next to Sirius' own, and even now, her own face smiled up at her – but she had never seen the copy that had been gifted to Harry. She had known he had it, but from the first day of her marriage to Sirius, she had made it abundantly clear that Harry's room was his own, and she wouldn't intrude on that. Even now, standing within his room at Hogwarts, a part of her chafed at the idea she was invading his privacy, if only to make sure he got himself into bed.

Her eyes fell on the familiar face of Arcturus – he wasn't smiling, but she knew his representation in the family tree was happy. He looked up at her, and for the first time since he had died, Amelia found herself under his penetrating gaze.

Arcturus had never allowed himself to be given a likeness for a portrait like some of his ancestors, and so Blackwall had gone without his presence for far too long. Amelia found that she had missed looking upon the strong features of Sirius's grandfather – he had a way of looking upon someone and taking the measure of that person; Amelia had always been worried she had fallen slightly short, not that Arcturus had ever implied anything of the sort – it had always been her own insecurities.

Now, Arcturus took her in, his eyes flickering up and down before settling on her own, and he gave a simple, sharp nod. None of the portraits in the tapestry could speak, and usually they contained only the faintest trace of those that were on it, but in that single, quiet moment, she felt like something had passed between the two of them.

It was strange, and completely illogical, but there was nothing she could do to deny it – Arcturus was legendary around Britain and beyond for the lengths he would go to protect his family. He had proven it unequivocally with Sirius, and especially in the years that followed his trial, when Arcturus had made it his personal mission to destroy the careers of Crouch and Bagnold; not even the prosecutor had survived his rampage.

But now, standing before his likeness, she felt her waning spirits strengthen – she felt like she had the man's blessing, like he trusted her to protect those that were the most precious to him. She glanced over her shoulder, to the boy at the end of his bed, who continued to fuss over his two Familiars, and smiled.

"Come on, you need to get some sleep – they'll still be here tomorrow."

Harry groaned, and it sounded just like the petulant groans her brothers used to make when they were told to do something other than what they wanted. It made her grin, despite everything that had happened, everything she had seen only hours prior. "Alright." Harry muttered, flicking a finger – both birds settled in the middle of his bed, Hedwig flapping her wings delicately as she launched herself from Harry's shoulder. He looked up to her and licked his lips in a sudden bout of nervousness. "Can… Can Sirius stay? Until morning?"

Amelia's chest blossomed with warmth as she looked at the young boy before her – she nodded and drew him into a quick hug, placing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "We'll both stay if that's what you want, okay?" She murmured into his hair. He nodded and gave her a squeeze.

"Alright, now, get changed, and get some sleep. We'll be in the Common Room downstairs if you need anything." She said, gently pushing Harry toward the bed and backing toward the door. "Goodnight, Harry." Amelia added, just as she crossed the threshold.

"G'night!" Came the quiet reply. The door closed with a quiet rattle of metal hinges and bolts, and she turned to take in the now empty dormitory common room. She could now hear noises coming from the three rooms she knew to belong to Harry and Neville's roommates, and she trusted Remus to have seen to Neville already.

"Dobby." She called, quietly, and the familiar Elf appeared, wringing his hands nervously and toeing the floor.

"Yes Mistress Black?" The Elf squeaked, his large eyes blinking up at her curiously. "Is there something Dobby can do?"

Amelia dropped to a knee before the Elf, and gently laid a hand on his small shoulder. "I need you to keep an eye on both Harry and Susan for me; can you do that?"

The Elf nodded so quickly; his large, bat-like ears flapped noisily. "Dobby can be doing that. Dobby will get started right away!"

If Amelia wanted to ask anything more of him, she couldn't, for he disappeared quicker than she could blink. She blew out a breath as she pushed herself back to her feet and made her way from the room – Harry and Susan would both have Dobby watching over them, and something within her relaxed at the thought.

She hurried down the stairs, and briefly smiled at Sirius and Remus in the Common Room as she made her way up toward the girl's dormitories – she caught sight of Sirius giving her an appreciative nod just before he disappeared from her vision.

The stairway was exactly the same as the one that led to Harry and Neville's room, only it curved in the opposite direction. Her eyes scanned the golden plaques nailed into the stone wall until she came across the name she was looking for.

Amelia opened the door slowly and peeked her head through the gap – a young girl that she didn't recognise sat in an armchair with a young wolf curled up beside it, its head tucked into the girl's lap contentedly. She cleared her throat, and the girl looked up at her, a confused frown on her face.

"Can I help you?" She asked, and Amelia eyed the wolf getting to its feet slowly, its amber eyes, so similar to Remus', tracking her warily.

"I'm looking for Hermione – I just came to make sure she got settled alright. My name's Amelia Black – what's yours?"

"Lauren Calvert." Lauren answered, though Amelia noticed she relaxed considerably. "This is Aspen." She added, rubbing the wolf affectionately between the ears, earning a happy pant. "Hermione's in the middle room"

Amelia nodded gratefully at the girl and crossed the room quickly, coming to a stop outside the door and rapped her knuckles against it gently. It swung open a few moments later; Hermione was in her pyjamas, and her hair was tied back into a neat, but comfortable bun.

"Amelia!" Hermione gasped, startled. "Sorry, please, come in."

Amelia did just that, smiling gratefully, and Hermione shut the door behind her. Her eyes swept the room, taking in the shelves upon shelves of books, and the handful of posters that she assumed to be about Muggle pop-culture; there was one poster with a small group of messy-haired men – two were holding guitars, while the third clutched a pair of drumsticks.

She turned from her curious inspection and took in Hermione – she was in simple pyjamas; shorts and a large, baggy top that looked to have been thrown on a little haphazardly, judging by how it hung from one shoulder. "I thought I'd check on you." She said, smiling when the large, ginger Kneazle, the infamous Crookshanks if she remembered the letters that Harry had shared with her, made his appearance around her ankles.

"I appreciate it, but you didn't have-" Hermione began, awkwardly wringing her hands.

"I'll always make sure that you're as safe as possible." Amelia said, moving to sit on the edge of Hermione's bed. She patted the spot next to her, and the young girl shuffled to sit next to her, her bottom lip pinched between her teeth. "It must be difficult, after everything today – how are you feeling? Just between the two of us; the boys won't hear a word of it."

Hermione eyed her dubiously before blowing out a breath, her shoulders slumping. "It all feels a bit much." She said at last, kicking her feet slowly as Crookshanks leapt into her lap. "I don't think I know how to feel – how am I supposed to react to hearing someone got torn apart next to the school? I thought we were supposed to be safe here, but each year so far there's always been something!"

Amelia nodded slowly and pursed her lips. Gently, she put her arm around Hermione's shoulders and drew her into her side. The two of them were quiet for a moment until, eventually, she said, "I don't think there's anywhere that's ever really safe. Not Muggle, not Magical – I think, if there was, I wouldn't have to do what I do. I know that doesn't help, but…"

"I know." Hermione sighed, running her fingers through Crookshanks' thick fur. "This just feels different, is all."

"Compared to a Basilisk?" She asked, cocking a brow, and looking at the girl beside her.

"The Basilisk didn't tear people apart." Hermione answered her, dryly. The girl opened her mouth as if to say something else but stopped. The process happened two more times until, finally, she asked, "She didn't suffer, did she?"

Amelia grimaced, the memory of young Alison flashing before her eyes. "From everything I've been told, she died before she received most of her injuries – when it comes to this particular killer, it's the best she could hope for, I'm afraid."

Hermione's already pale complexion when a shade lighter, and a physical shudder ran through her body; Amelia rubbed her back in slow circles for a moment until the girl calmed down. There was little use in lying to the girl in some poor attempt to spare her feelings – it would not doubt come to light at some point, and it helped to reinforce the genuine danger that lurked beyond the walls of the castle. She couldn't risk the children getting it in their head to go looking for this killer themselves.

"I'll have Aurors dedicated to guarding the school from now on, as well as Hogsmeade – I'm sorry, we didn't think he was anywhere near here." Amelia said, shaking her head. "He fooled us all."

"I'm sure you did the best you could, given everything." Hermione offered, smiling weakly, and though it must have taken an enormous effort on her part, Amelia appreciated it nonetheless.

"Maybe." Amelia said, quietly. The two of them were quiet for a moment longer before Hermione yawned, tiredly. "Come on, you need to get some sleep. Sirius and I will be staying in the Common Room tonight, and I'm sure Remus will as well; so, we'll just be downstairs should you need anything."

Hermione watched her stand and nodded as Amelia moved toward the door. Amelia offered one last goodnight, receiving a half-yawned response, before leaving the room. The shared room was now empty, the young Lauren Calvert and her wolf no doubt having retired to their own room, and so Amelia wasted no time in making her way back down to the Common Room.

When she got there, both Sirius and Remus were staring blankly at the crackling fireplace, though Sirius was tapping his fingers absently against the arm of the couch the two of them were in. Remus reacted to her presence first, glancing over his shoulder and offering a kind smile, even as the moonlight made his amber eyes almost glow in the low light.

She returned the gesture and slid into a nearby armchair, though not before shrugging out of the crimson cloak she had been wearing all afternoon and draped it across the back. The armour was a little awkward to sit in, but she made do, yawning into the back of her hand.

"How're you doing? Really, I mean." Sirius asked, his grey eyes boring into her own with a quiet, private intensity.

"It's… been difficult." She sighed, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. "We've searched the town from top to bottom a few times, but we haven't found a thing. Scrimgeour's out there still with half of the local force doing another sweep."

"And the locals?" Remus asked, cocking his head. "I can't imagine the evacuation was easy."

"In the mountain – a few complaints, but nothing serious." Amelia shrugged, closing her eyes, and pinching the bridge of her nose. "It was… bad."

"I'd expect nothing less from Greyback." Sirius grunted, leaning forward, and placing his head in his hands.

"No, Sirius, you don't understand – it was bad. Really bad – I haven't seen a victim in this state for a long time, and they were all adults."

"He likes to infect children." Remus hissed, glaring into the fire, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line. "What could he possibly hope to gain by changing something so… significant as that?"

"We don't know." Amelia answered, placing her elbow on the arm of the chair, and cupping her chin with her fingers. "We couldn't even find any trace of him. The local Spooks couldn't find a thing."

"There has to be something?" Sirius asked, disbelievingly.

"If there is, Agent Fylle and her team haven't found it yet – but each day that passes, the less chance we have of finding anything, and even less chance of it actually being useful."

"So, what can we do?" Sirius breathed, slumping back in his seat. "Remus can keep an eye on the school, but surely there's more?"

"I'm going to have some Aurors stationed at the school full-time, and increase the presence in Hogsmeade – Fudge was talking earlier about returning the Dementors back to Azkaban-"

"About time."

"- but we have no real timeframe on that, especially after everything that's happened today." She finished, ignoring Sirius's comment with a roll of her eyes. He wasn't saying anything the rest of them weren't thinking – he could just be more vocal about it. "I told the kids we'd stay here tonight." She added, offering a weak smile to her husband. "I have Dobby keeping an eye on Harry and Susan too."

"Good." Sirius nodded, glancing at Remus. "Minerva's going to have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming if she thinks I'm doing anything else tonight."

Remus snorted and got to his feet. "Don't think she wouldn't pass up the opportunity to toss you out on your arse. I'll go let her and Dumbledore know; Andromeda too – I assume Dora's alright?"

"She's fine – I had Gold on airborne duties today."

Remus nodded. "I'll pass it on. Either of you want anything from the kitchens?"

"I'm fine, thanks though." Sirius said, waving a hand tiredly. Amelia shook her head silently and watched the large man leave the room, his hands in his pockets – if anyone was the least likely to get taken by surprise if Greyback somehow made it into the castle, it was Remus; his senses were unparalleled.

When the door to the Common Room clicked closed, Amelia pushed herself up from her chair and quickly unbuckled her armour, breathing easier once it was piled around her feet; she placed it into a neat pile on the chair she had been occupying only a few moments before, and turned to face her husband.

He smiled at her, and his eyes glinted in the low light. She settled herself into his lap, stretching her legs out along the rest of the couch, and curled up against his chest. Immediately, she felt his arms wrapping around her, and the short hairs of his beard tickled her scalp, but for the first time since the alert had sounded in her department, and Shacklebolt had rushed into the room, she felt herself relax.

"We'll get him, you know." Sirius whispered, pressing a kiss into her hair. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, but she couldn't stop seeing the vacant eyes staring back at her, even with her husband's arms wrapped around her. "It's okay." He breathed, rubbing gentle circles into her back. "Let it all out."

She wasn't sure when she had started, but she suddenly realised that she was sobbing – her knees were drawn up to her chest, one hand clutched at the front of Sirius's doublet, while the other covered her mouth and nose.

In the quiet of the Gryffindor Common Room, Amelia Black, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, felt her professional façade crack, and then shatter completely.