Chapter Thirty-One: House of Wolves

Chapter title taken from the My Chemical Romance song.

"Help me."

"—pathetic excuses for human beings! The senseless violence, the extortion, the drugs and the kidnapping and the killings—for what? This isn't an accurate representation of our people!" a fuming Rosalind cried. "We're humble and kind and hard working—not these pendejadas!" She paced around the tent, her wand sparking. "And I'm tired of being locked up in here!" She turned on her heel for the entrance flap of the tent, which was stitched shut with a flick of the wand.

"You can't be out there alone."

She sat in the cot, sighing into her hands. She had given up on telling the pair she could take care of herself.

"You're not anyone's equal here," Rodolphus said gruffly. "There are no other women walking around freely and you know exactly why."

She shot him a glare, resting her hand underneath her chin. "We still don't know which ones are and aren't wizards." They had identified the pattern of one wizard for every Muggle gang member, or who appeared to be a Muggle. Outside of the potion making and drugs, magic was kept at a minimum. "Or what all the potions are. Can Muggles brew potions?"

Dawlish shrugged. "I s'ppose they could. The ingredients need to be magical for most potions, not the potioneer."

"So what are they making? More drugs? Or potions like that filth Sal gave me my first night?"

"I think they're experimenting," Rodolphus added. "On anything that can turn them a profit or get them high."

Rosalind scowled. It was a possibility. The magic was kept hidden within the tents or taken within the forest. Sal wasn't keen on giving out too much information or being a showoff.

"There are heaps of young children here too," said Dawlish. "But none of the Hogwarts students."

"Kids are more impressionable than adults," she said darkly. "Sometimes they're taken as compensation when a family can't pay the maras. They take a son and turn him into one of them, or they take a daughter and make her a member's wife. It's disgusting."

"I just want my son back," Dawlish said into his mug of tea. "If he's hurt—" his voice trailed off, fading into the crackling fire. He was barely recognizable, with a thick, burly beard growing halfway down his neck, his eyes lined with worry. "I got word earlier that they're moving people. They're sending them to another camp. We have to make sure at least one of us makes it out."

"What?" Rosalind asked, putting her boots on. "Why are they moving people?"

"The full moon," Dawlish said as Rodolphus began to clothe himself. "It's in a few days. I think they're moving the werewolves."

"You mean they've been here all along?" Rodolphus grunted. "How the fuck did we not see them?"

Dawlish shook his head. "Dunno. They keep them with groups of Muggles and wizards so they don't run off. But I'm thinking they're moving them to where the kids are."

"Why? To scare them or bite them?" Rosalind asked.

"I'm not sure. I just heard Sal say it's time to move them," he continued with a grim look on his face, his brow lines deepening. "We don't have much time." The three wizards took a long hard look at each other, the tension growing between them. "I think you two have a better chance of getting in. You're a known Death Eater, Rodolphus, they trust you. And Rosalind they know what you're capable of."

"But how are we going to warn the Ministry if something happens? Neither of us can produce a Patronous."

Dawlish pointed at their left forearms. "The Dark Mark. If Rodolphus casts it then all the living Death Eaters will come because they'll feel it but we can't have that. You have to conjure it since you don't have a real Dark Mark." Rosalind stared at him dumbfounded as Rodolphus nodded in agreement. "I already informed Harry about it so they're expecting it." He jerked his head as movement was visible outside the tent. "Let's go. We don't have much time."

The three wizards stepped out of the tent into the madness. It had been a few days since her arrival and she quickly learned Sal was a master manipulator, feeding selective information to his cronies to make them feel special in order to do jobs for him. She looked around for Sal, who had to be in the largest tent with his cronies. She spotted him as he was leaving, putting on her best, most scheming face.

"What's going on?" she asked innocently as the stout man whispered an order to one of his men. "Are we going somewhere?"

Sal grinned at her excitement. "Some of us are. Not all." He pulled a cigar from his pocket, the man next to him lighting it. "We have business to do elsewhere." He eyed her, as she didn't say anything, switching his tongue to Spanish. "Are you interested?"

Rosalind flashed a smile. "Of course." She stood slightly in front of him, feeling the burning of his eyes on her. "What do you need me to do?"

At this Sal hesitated, taking a long draw of cigar. "I like your enthusiasm," he grinned. "We're moving the beasts to another location. The full moon is coming so we don't want them around our men. They have work to do elsewhere."

"More recruiting?" she asked curiously. "I thought we already had good numbers, sir."

Sal shrugged, inhaling the smoke from his cigar. "We do. But a little chaos never hurt anyone."

"So we're just going to let them loose? I don't understand."

"Bless you, trying to keep up," he laughed as Rosalind bit her tongue. "They're hungry. We give them certain locations to feast. We track them so we always know where they are." He took another drag of cigar. "We have some fresh young meals for them too."

Rosalind's stomach lurched at the thought. "Como?"

Sal grinned, a malicious glean in his eye. "I don't know if I can trust you."

Rosalind frowned playfully. "Oh c'mon Sal, don't do that to me."

He shrugged, sighing. "What do you know about Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts?" she asked surprised. "Not much, I didn't go there. Why do you ask?"

"Because we have a lot of fresh meat we captured a week back. Caught them at Hogsmeade Station where they're dropped off." He tapped his cigar dramatically, the ashes burning the snow. "They're not just any kids though, most of them have parents in the Ministry."

Rosalind's heart began to beat through her chest as he gave her more information. "So what do you plan on doing with them?"

Sal shrugged again. "Who knows, ask for ransom maybe. Make a deal with them. Might even kill them or feed them to the werewolves," he laughed at the last suggestion.

Rosalind's stomach lurched. "I'm sure the Ministry would pay a pretty price to have those kids back."

"Of course they would, who wouldn't?" he laughed at her remark. "Doesn't mean they have to be alive though." One of his men interrupted them, asking for directions. Rosalind's breakfast bubbled in her throat. "Do me a favor, would you? Go with Sanchez. He tends to fuck things up."

She smiled with pursed lips, following the man named Sanchez. He was a tiny bloke, barely taller than her. He sized her up immediately, licking his lips. "You wanna go out back to my tent and get to know each other better?"

She scrunched her face at the little man in front of her in disgust. "Do you want me to chop your fucking ear off, Mudblood?" She shot a spark of electricity to his knees, noting the lack of wand. The word felt disgusting coming out of her mouth, but it was exactly as the others spoke to the Muggles when they stepped out of line. Sanchez jumped at the shock of pain, his frail shoulders pinching into his body, a pang of guilt retching in her chest.

They trekked through the snow, an area of the woods that was relatively unexplored by humans. The air was much more still, almost suffocating with their breath, the snow flailing to the ground whimsically. Several mounds of dirt and snow surrounded them, along with rickety shacks, their frail boards moaning in the wind.

"What is this place?" Rosalind asked Sanchez, who was signing to a man with a group of teenagers, his head tattoos glistening in the moonlight.

"Where we have to babysit the damn animals," he said grudgingly as a group of teenagers moved nearby in a single file line. "It's almost time for them to transform."

"And then what?" Rosalind asked, almost unable to keep the strain from her voice.

"Depends, we let them out for a few hours and they come home with more," he said nonchalantly. "We bring them back to the main ground and Sal decides what to do from there."

"Right," she replied, taking a closer look around. "When are we letting them out?"

Sanchez shrugged. "Don't know, they'll transform pretty soon. They stay in their dens a lot of the time sleeping or whatever the hell they do. The wizards have some type of tracking shit on them, so they can't get away. Couple have tried and never did again after we were done with them." He chuckled as if it was a light-hearted manner. A tongue clicked in their direction, another one of Sal's men. He motioned for Sanchez in a crude, confusing hand gesture, something Rosalind hadn't gotten quite the hang of yet. What appeared to be the youngest group of the lot approached them, Sanchez lifting their forearms to check the numbers engraved into them. Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine...there were much more than she initially thought and were younger than she expected-they were school age, their worried faces drenched in ratty clothing, torn from the many times they had transformed. They held their heads down, staring feebly at their dirty, crusted feet. Two young girls remained at the end-twenty-seven and twenty-nine-one much younger than the other. The elder had what appeared to have once been beautiful, curled blonde hair, a quaint bow resting on the back of her head, a tiny glimpse of the life she had before. The younger had mats of dreaded dark brown hair covering her face, purple thumbprints etched beneath her eyes. Her nails were yellow, decaying and claw like, her face gaunt.

Rosalind stood behind Sanchez as he marked off the people in front of him. She eyed the two girls at the end of the line, an itch of familiarity bothering her. The young girl glanced up at her, her hollow eyes meeting hers, mouthing two words: help me. Rosalind jolted her head back in surprise, making the connection: Adriana Holmes was standing in front of her.

Did you forget about Adriana, the girl from way back in chapter three? You'll find out who the other girl is soon, don't worry :)

Next chapter: The Sharpest Lives.