Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.
- Mark Twain
Chapter title taken from the legendary Pink Floyd album.
"The Ministry!"
After throwing a pinch of Floo Powder into the fireplace, Rosalind began spinning so rapidly her half empty stomach began to quake. A pale rainbow of colors flew past her, blurring from brown to grey to black. As suddenly as it started it stopped, and she was back in the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic.
"Move out of the way, miss, there are more folks coming through!" An agitated wizard bellowed, shoving her out of the fireplace.
Rosalind caught herself and glanced around gingerly, looking for the lifts. Her gaze followed the pack of gossiping witches with Department of Magical Law Enforcement badges glistening in the glow of the fountain. She grabbed the golden ropes, taking a stand next to a rail-thin wizard who smelled of dragon dung.
"Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement," a cool female voice announced their arrival. "This contains the Auror Office, the Improper Use of Magic Office, the Wizengamot Administration Services, the Administrative Registration Department, Department of Intoxicating Substances, as well as Hit Wizards, Magic Law Enforcement Patrol, Witch Watchers, the Investigation Department, the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, and the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protected Objects."
Rosalind stepped out with the band of gossiping witches, each dispersing into their respective units. At the end of the hallway stood the same decrepit man that had interviewed her, motioning her to come in and handing her a thick stack of papers.
"Morning, I see you have found your way," he droned in his monotonous tone. "In this stack are the Ministry's official handbooks, confidentiality laws, and more. You will be meeting with Miss Granger and Mr. Potter immediately. They will help you become acquainted."
Her heart jumped. Was she going to be working with two thirds of the Golden Trio? She shuffled to the Auror Office where several dazzled-looking witches and wizards were pouring over notes and discussing tactics for the numerous ex Death Eaters still at large. At the other end of the room was a handsome door marked H. Potter, where she knocked firmly.
"Come in," an authoritative but cheerful voice answered.
Harry Potter's office was rather modest considering he was the Chosen One: it decorated with flocks of gold and maroon, the colors of Gryffindor House; an animated Golden Snitch flew from corner to corner, impossible to catch; and on his desk sat vibrant photographs of his deceased family and friends: his parents, Sirius Black, Remus and Nymphadora Lupin, Fred Weasley, Alastor Moody, and Albus Dumbledore. At the forefront of his collection of photographs he was beaming photo of him next to his fiancee Ginny Weasley.
Hermione Granger spoke first, her warm voice flooding the grand office. "Good morning Miss Morana," she extended her hand for her to shake. "I trust you know what we will be speaking about?"
Rosalind stared at the famous duo for a moment, completely unaware of what to say. "No, I don't actually, I was instructed to come in here. I'm assuming protocol and procedure."
"Have a seat," Harry invited, offering a steaming cup of tea.
"Well first and foremost, welcome to the Ministry of Magic," Hermione began with a bright smile. She sounded more astute in person, speaking in a hurried, intellectual breath. "I have looked over your resume and past work and am quite impressed; it is rare to find an individual with both Muggle and magical background, especially in dealing with the law." Rosalind's face flushed in flattery. "You were an exceptional student and we contacted your references, who all had great things to say about you."
"Sorry about your last job," Harry cuts in. "It's a shame being unemployed."
Rosalind laughs nervously, rubbing her nose to hide her embarrassment. "It's a lot better than being back home, trust me."
"I believe it," he said in a grim tone. "I have heard nasty rumors of the American government recently. Seems they are in a bit of a panic. "
"They have been for quite some time," she replied.
"You are a refugee from the States, is that correct?" Hermione asked, scribbling notes.
"Well I wouldn't call myself a refugee, but I did flee," she admitted. "My sister is my only family and I didn't want to see her suffer more than she already had, and I knew that sending her to Hogwarts was the best thing I could do for her."
"And what about your best interests?"
She flashed her gritted teeth for a moment, preparing an answer. "Honestly, I have been applying to the Ministry since I moved here so that is the first big step. I have seen an overwhelming amount of injustices...and it never gets better from the outside. I felt at my best and most confident when I was making an impact in my community. There isn't anything like being in the midst of the action and impacting lives first-hand." She rubbed her arm nervously, unsure what would be wise to disclose, her scarred hands slightly trembling. "I love being in the middle of it."
"That's great," Hermione beamed. "Typically people freeze in fight or flight situations."
"I used to be like that," she said in a lowered voice. "But I learned that no action is still a decision you make." She shrugged, pinching the skin on her arm. "And we can't have that here. Not in this line of work."
Harry nodded. "Excellent. Where do you want to be in the long run? Here in the Ministry?"
"I used to think I'd make a fair choice for something like the Wizengamot. But I think a Hit Wizard is a better fit for me."
"Interesting choice," Hermione nodded in satisfaction to Harry. "We can certainly help you work your way up to that, especially with your background encountering the Dark Arts. To start, we have placed you with the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol Department. I believe you will be a great fit there."
Rosalind nodded, her heart still thundering in her chest. Hermione spurred directions to head across the hall to meet her supervisor, asking if she had any questions. "No," she said with a shake of her head. "I don't think so. But thank you so much Miss Granger and Mr. Potter, I have been hoping for this-"
"It's Harry," said the wizard with a smile. "You can call me Harry."
"Call me Hermione," the Golden Girl smiled. "Anything you need let me know."
Rosalind smiled meekly. "Thank you." She turned on her heel to the office across the hall, where a stout and rather wide middle-aged wizard greeted her.
"Oho! What do we have here? New employee, I presume?" he asked cheerfully.
"Yes sir, I was instructed to meet with you," she replied, still in her gritted-tooth smile.
"Good good, I see the Auror's Department has given you a short introduction." He waved his wand and a stack of files landed onto her endless pile. "Since this is your first week you will be proofreading reports and taking notes unless otherwise instructed. Mr. Malfoy and Miss Breckenridge will answer any questions you may have. We will inform you if you will be attending any patrols." Bowen waved his wand again, pushing her into a rickety desk before she had the chance to say a word.
Rosalind went straight to work, spreading the documents around her desk, deciphering them as best she could. Everyone around her is too busy to notice her, which was a relief. She shivered; the office was large and drafty, made of stone, with windows enchanted to match the weather in real time. Large Galleons sat on the desks, burning and buzzing when an area needed to be patrolled or an incident needed to be checked out. Those were the creation of Hermione Granger and were first used during the reign of Dumbledore's Army at Hogwarts. Some had animatronic talking owls to remind them of appointments and deadlines, others watches that spurted out messages, and others a magical quill to draft their notes.
"You're the new recruit?" a coy voice behind her asked.
Rosalind turns to see a tall, willowy woman with auburn hair, talon-like red nails and a wafer thin face.
"Yes I am," she answered curtly.
She pursed her lips, noting her accent. "Ah, so you are American. Thought it was just a rumor." She drummed her talons on Rosalind's desk, rolling her eyes over to a man's body in the corner. "You're partnered with Malfoy, the little git can't work with anyone. Maybe you'll have better luck with his arrogant arse." Before Rosalind could answer she strode her long legs to another tall, gargantuan woman, making crude gestures to each other.
Oh great, she thought to herself, thinking she was stuck with a prick. With his back still against the room, she returned to her stack of paperwork, wondering who this Malfoy character was and why no one would work with him. Most of the reports were rather dry and boring, which she assumed was because she was new. Unlike Muggle police reports they were more detailed, including time of Apparition, spells used, and magical creatures involved. Noontime signalled lunch, but the wizard in the corner stopped her at her desk. Rosalind looked up to see the same pale faced handsome man she met in the elevator.
"Morana, Bowen asked me to take you out on a patrol today. I'm Draco Malfoy, I believe we met the other day."
"Yeah we did," she said, digesting his words. "But I'm going on a patrol today? I'm not even done with my reports yet-"
"I didn't ask if you were done," Draco said curtly. "We are leaving now, you'll have time to finish up. Let's go."
"Where are we going?"
"Forest of Dean in the village of Harrow Hill. There seems to be a dispute that turned bloody."
"We're Apparting there, right?" she asked. He nodded, and with a faint pop, the Ministry of Magic disappeared.
The air chilled her lungs as the quaint village of Harrow Hills appeared: the multicolored cottages dotted the hilly perimeter, almost side by side with its neighbor Drybrook. The leaves were a crisp orange color tinted with a bronze-grey border that crunched beneath their feet, leaving a small trail of footprints. The sound of small animals scurrying about faded into the distance, in the direction of a small cottage so aged the bricks and stones holding it together melded into a flaccid wall. A tall, burly man with a scruffy beard was standing with his arms crossed outside of the home while a young girl sat in the dirt, covered in bruises and dried blood.
Draco glanced around for Rosalind, who had beat him there. He leaned towards her, whispering quickly. "Let me do most of the talking. I'll let you talk to them once I'm done. I suggest you let me handle the bloke, he doesn't look too happy." She gave him a look of apprehension but agreed.
He cleared his throat and approached the pair, speaking in a self-assured voice. "Good afternoon sir, I am Officer Malfoy and this is my partner Officer Morana. We received notice of an incident at this address. We'd like to ask you a few questions."
The burly man hulked over to Draco, towering a few inches above him, glaring with his dark, beady eyes. "Yes. The neighbors called about my daughter. But I assure you she is fine. There is no reason for you to be here."
Rosalind stared at the girl, who could not be more than sixteen years of age. She was behaving oddly, scratching her head and biting her nails excessively, breathing heavily. Her pain was evident, along with her fear of speaking. There were several injuries on her body: lacerations on her arms, bruises on her legs, and puncture wounds.
"Hello," she said gently, kneeling in front of her. "My name is Rosalind. I have been sent here to help you. Are you alright?"
The girl's eyes widened, her lips puckering and trembling as she shook her head. "I wish I could tell you but I promised I wouldn't say a word," she whispered.
"It's alright, I promise. No one here is going to hurt you," she replied in a kind voice. "If anyone has hurt you, it is my job to find them. I am here to help." The girl attempted to cover her bruises upon seeing Rosalind spot them. "How did this happen to you?"
The girl smiled nervously, her head jerking over to her father, who was having a heated argument with Malfoy. "It happened at dawn," she began quickly. "I am always up early to fetch water from the lake and begin cooking breakfast for my father. I heard strange noises coming from the forest but I thought nothing of it. As soon as I filled my pail something attacked me, something big and vicious. I have no idea what it could have been but my father heard my screams and attempted to Stun it but missed. The animal let go and left me bleeding and my father was furious, I have never seen him so upset...he insists I'll be okay but I don't feel like myself at all..." She began to weep, scratching the side of her head. "I feel like there is something inside me that wants to come out and it's violent. I don't know what to do." Her sunken eyes were slightly yellow, a tear streaming down her cheek.
"Why aren't you in school?" she asked, observing her wounds.
"I'm homeschooled," she said, glancing down in shame. "My father likes me at home."
"Where were you hurt? I need to examine your injuries, then we can identify what attacked you." The young girl readily complied, revealing a large gash with deep puncture wounds marked with silver edges. Rosalind's heart began to panic. She quickly pulled out a small bottle of essence of dittany, instructing the girl not to move. "This is probably going to hurt, but I promise you this is for your own good," she warned. She sprinkled the substance over the wounds as the girl screamed, causing her father to snap his head in their direction.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing to my daughter?" he roared, ready to pounce on her. Rosalind flicked her wand at him with a Sticky-Foot Curse. "What are you—you can't do this to me! What did you do to my daughter?"
Draco ran with his face fuming to Rosalind. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Morana? I told you let me handle it!"
"And you were doing a terrible job not controlling the situation," she retorted. "This girl needs to be taken to St. Mungo's now."
"Why? He said she was attacked by an animal and she's fine—"
Rosalind ignored him, turning to the man, who was still fidgeting to free his legs. "Mr. Holmes, your daughter here has been bitten by a werewolf. I have added a powder that will help heal the wound but she needs medical attention right away. This is extremely urgent and I suggest that you comply with what we say unless you want to be charged with obstruction of justice."
The girl began crying and Mr. Holmes' face turned pale. "What..? No that's impossible—Fenfir Greyback is dead and werewolves haven't been seen since the war!" His eyes filled with tears as Rosalind felt a small pang of regret for cursing him.
"I'll notify the Ministry. St. Mungo's are on their way," was all Malfoy was able to say.
Moments later, a gaggle of wizards in lime green robes assembled themselves around Mr. Holmes and his frightened daughter. Rosalind tried to calm her, assuring her that she would be well taken care of and they will get to the bottom of this. Her father meanwhile ravaged through the group of healers, crying to them. "Please help her," he pleaded. "My wife is gone and she is all I have. I can't stand to see her hurt—"
The Head Healer offered his sympathies to the man. "We will do our best sir, and I attest that she is in good hands. We have only the best at St. Mungo's." They conjured a stretcher to carry her to a bright yellow light resembling a portal, where the hospital could be seen at the other side, where the healers, the stretcher, and Mr. Holmes vanished upon stepping through.
Malfoy made his way to a stump, resting himself with a puzzled look on his face as Rosalind jotted down her notes, waiting for him to speak. "You did a good job there Morana," he finally said. "I'm impressed."
Rosalind tucked her parchment into her cloak. "Thanks. I'm sure you would've done the same thing."
"Yeah, totally," he replied absentmindedly.
"Shall we head back?" Rosalind interrupted his train of thought.
"Not yet. Let's stay until sunset, scan the perimeter, and head back. Don't stray too far from me, if something happens to you we're both dead. Hopefully there are signs of werewolves somewhere."
Rosalind nodded in agreement as they searched the heavily wooded area for any signs of abnormal animal life. The sun's crimson rays were slowly fading into the horizon, the full moon rising steadily, illuminating beautiful white light into the shadows. The forest was still: no wind, no rustling of branches, no animals or even birds in sight.
"Whatever was here scared everything away and is already on the move," she said slowly. "We might find something deeper in the woods but that will be difficult."
"Our orders were to investigate the indent which we have, nothing more. We'll let Bowen know we did not see any direct signs of werewolves in the area and that's it." His confidence had returned. "We're done here. Ready to head back?"
"Ready when you are."
With a faint pop, they reappeared at the Ministry. A concerned Bowen staggered to them with a look of excitement and bewilderment. "I was starting to think you two wouldn't make it back unharmed!" he exclaimed in a fatherly tone. "St. Mungo's notified me of the attack-werewolves on the prowl, eh? Exciting first day is it not?" he chuckled at Rosalind, nudging her ribs.
"A bit, yeah. I'm expecting the same tomorrow," she responded with a laugh as Malfoy handed him their reports.
Bowen's face glimmered. "Excellent! We have been looking for a steady partner for Mr. Malfoy here for quite some time, at it appears we have found him a permanent companion!" He pulled Draco into a tight, one-armed hug. "Hear that, Draco? Miss Morana's going to be your partner from now on. Treat her like the lady she is and we shan't have any more problems."
Draco's eyes shifted over to a smiling Rosalind, busy thanking Bowen for the opportunity to work for him, her smile illuminating the room.
"So," she said after Bowen left. "See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Nice job today." Their eyes locked for a brief moment, a silent millisecond of understanding forming between them before they departed for the evening.
What's going on with the werewolf attacks and who's behind them?
Thank you so much for reading! I would greatly appreciate any kind of feedback :)
Next chapter: Under Pressure.