(A/N): So I finally get the next chapter out. A little shorter than usual, for that I apologize, and the late hour. People, enjoy. I'd like to thank a number of people for reviewing, and the 2000-odd people that read this story- Goddess, I love that hit thing-a-ma-jig, it just makes a person feel so good about herself. For those of you who are worried about Mica becoming a prominent figure in this story- well, Harry wasn't very well going to be babysitting a pack of wolves! He's needed elsewhere. Like bed. A certain bed. Unfortunately, not mine. I'm sure ya'll catch my drift. She's necessary- and I don't trust Remus to handle it. My dears, Rin, my editor, hates Mary Sues. She's not a fan of original characters, either. So she'll keep Mica under control. Promise. Well, enjoy, and kisskiss, darlings!
Luna Lovegood ran her bottle cap necklace through her fingers, humming softly to herself as the air brought her visions of the world outside her Patient Cell.
Molly Weasley handed a fair-haired child an ice-cream cone. Professor Lupin flew across the room, propelled by a spell shot from an Auror as he turned from the reception desk. A bleary imaged of a man of indescribably poor hygiene with glowing yellow eyes as he stalked through an equally bleary ragtag group of other yellow-eyed people. Harry stalked down a corridor familiar to her from recently, as she was forced to walk down it by the Aurors just last night. They had been quite rude. Was Harry coming to see her? The thought was washed away by a barrage of other images, some tinged with the clarity of the present, and some hazy like the one of the yellow-eyed people, seen as if viewed through a fog of time. She had the Sight, could glimpse bits and pieces of the future, sometimes the whole scene, but it wasn't always clear to her, if ever.
The silver laden door swung open minutes, hours, maybe days later. Luna looked up at Harry, and knew his rage. She felt as if she stood feet away from a forest fire, all that was needed was a shift in the wind and she would be eaten alive by flames. That would not happen, though- Luna paused as the wind spun another image for her- the air liked her.
"The air said you were coming." She said to Harry. His magic rushed over her, and she was fully healed from the wounds the doctor with a pinched up mouth had not healed completely.
"They should not have kept you here." Harry said quietly, his voice full of drowning sadness and crackling rage.
"They fear the Wolf, Harry." Her eyes followed the vision-newspaper as it was blown across a road. They caught the front page headline. "Wizarding Savior Challenges Ministry's Werewolf Policy!"
"That's no excuse for locking a patient in a dungeon cell half-healed." Harry snarled.
"You'll change that. Its in the winds." Harry had that expression that said he didn't really understand what she was saying. She was familiar with the expression, so it was alright. "Other than Finnegan, Charlie, and I, was anyone else attacked?" She asked.
Harry's expression became sorrowful. "I'm sorry, Luna. Seamus…"
Luna nodded. "He died. The winds showed me." She felt a flash of anger at his treatment- he had been shunted aside while "more important" cases were addressed first. The anger was drowned out by sorrow. "It was for the best. He wouldn't have survived Dean's death long."
Harry digested that slowly. "Do you feel well enough to walk?" He asked quietly.
"You healed me. I'm fine."
The door crashed against the wall, making the hospital guard jump. Harry offered Luna his arm and ushered her out of the cell. The guard made to move forward, opening his mouth to halt them, but Harry slashed him a look, and he froze in mid-step, mouth moving furiously and no sound to be heard. "Mrs. Lovegood is checking out." Harry said, and the heat in his voice would have seared a tundra. Luna was glad it was not her he was angry at. They walked up the corridor until they met the stairs, where Luna suddenly found herself floating. She chuckled as Harry levitated her up the length of the stairs.
"That wasn't nice, what you did to that poor guard." She said, but her voice lacked any real interest. It was a passing statement, an observation.
Harry shrugged. "He'll be released when we're out of the hospital."
"And the ministry?"
It was his turn to chuckle. "Oh, I don't think I'll have a problem with the ministry. Malfoy gave Head of Security Kane a briefcase that would show a certain ministry law on command, and I heard Kane asking after certain laws concerning jurisdiction and interference. I don't think the ministry will be mucking about with hospital business much longer."
"That was nice of Draco." Luna said hazily.
Harry grinned. "He has his ruff up about something. Tell you the truth, its rather fun to watch."
Luna nodded. "Oh, my. That poor receptionist is not having a good day." She said quietly, feeling sorry for the poor girl as she watched Draco hound her into giving him the release papers. She saw her name on one and was flattered the man would remember her. "Draco has my release papers."
Harry started with surprise, and then smirked. "That just makes my day so much better."
"That's good to hear. I don't have to listen to your bitching, either." Draco said flippantly, waltzing up from behind them.
Harry cast a look at him as he pulled up beside them. The Malfoy wore his smugness as openly as a cat, identified by foreign signals, but understood all the same, Harry smirked. "I suppose you want a thank you."
Draco snorted. "Don't pain yourself; 'thank you' doesn't do justice for what I just did for you."
It was Harry's turn to snort. "As the Wizarding World's Savior, I could have just walked up and requested the papers, and that would have been it. Perhaps you should thank me for allowing you to get some enjoyment out of it."
Draco shrugged that off, feigning disinterest. "I suppose. How did you get out of your cell, Luna?"
Harry pulled to a halt suddenly, peering at Draco through eyes narrowed with sudden rage. Luna sighed, the heat of the forest fire fanning her skin once again. Draco looked back at him, and then slowly eased himself into a defensive position, his wand ready to drop into his hand from its holster at a moment's notice. Not that it was apparent. To any other eye, he appeared to have drawn himself up in aristocratic arrogance, but Harry saw the readiness in his eyes, and the poised tension that flooded the man's frame. Draco Malfoy was ready to fight, and so was he.
"You knew where she was?" Harry asked, his voice once again crackling with intensity.
Draco's, by contrast was cool and crisp as the winter nights, with just a hint of a bite to it. "I requested the information while I was hounding the receptionist, Mr. Potter."
"And you were going to do nothing about it?"
Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I was about to throw a royal bitch-fit, Potter, but I caught sight of the both of you about that time and decided you probably made your standpoint lucidly obvious, judging by the wave of magic that washed the entire hospital a quarter of an hour ago."
Harry relaxed slowly, then nodded, stepping out once again for Charlie's room. "My apologies." He said simply. He didn't see Draco roll his eyes for the second time, or Luna's vaguely amused smile. He did see Mr. Kane at his post in front of the door.
The man looked up at them, saw Luna, and shrugged. "At least I have the whole pack in one place." He muttered.
"You only have to put up with us a few more moments, Mr. Kane." Harry said, keeping his voice polite. "We've brought Miss Lovegood's and Mr. Weasley's release papers with us."
The head of security held his hand out for the papers, and when Draco handed them to him, he checked them thoroughly before handing them back. "You're cleared. Good day, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. Miss Lovegood." He nodded and set off down the hall, but stopped a few feet away, turning partially to nail Harry with a measured look. "Mr. Potter, before you leave, I would have you release the guard stationed at the lower levels. Several spells have been tried, and none have been effective."
Hard, emerald eyes caught the light, and changed it, as his magic did as he turned to face the Security Head. Draco marveled at Kane's impassive reaction. He didn't flinch, he didn't even move, meeting the blazing glare with a level look of his own.
"Who is responsible for the half-healed state Ms. Lovegood was found in? Why did Mr. Finnigan die of blood loss after he got to the hospital? Who judged him a less-fatal case, and why were they both in dungeons?" Harry's voice was low and vicious, a soft, deadly hiss threading its way into his words, and Draco was suddenly reminded of the magic-formed snake that had torn Bellatrix to pieces during the final battle. He could feel Harry's magic pulsing against the walls, threatening the operation of the spells around them. It was a special gift of Draco's, one that had kept him alive many a time. Mr. Kane's silence stretched past Harry's patience. "Tell me that, Mr. Kane, and I'll let your guard go."
"Auror Clinton took over safety procedures last night."
The pressure of the magic pulsed before Harry seemed to reel it in. "Thank you, Mr. Kane." The Head of Security nodded before heading off down the hall.
Draco shook his head and sighed. "No chance of getting people like that working in the ministry, now is there?" He muttered. "No, we have to have sheer incompetence in the power seat of the government, not to mention Ministre la cretin…"
Harry snorted, jerking door open. "Surely he's better than Fudge."
"Dear Harry, anyone could do better than Fudge. Even Weasley." Draco replied, causing Harry to snort, and then laugh aloud at the expression on Ron's face. Before the red-haired man could inquire- or argue- what was said, Harry turned to Mica, then nodded to Luna. Mica's attention immediately focused on the blonde woman, and, surprisingly, she did not issue a challenge, just nodded.
"Air-Seer."
Luna smiled her own, dreamy smile. "The winds are soft around you, werewolf. I will go with you for your training." Mica nodded, accepting Luna already knew about the arrangement between her and the other two new werewolves without question.
Draco frowned, perplexed and hiding it by handing Charlie his release papers. There had been tension between both Charlie and Remus when she had first met them, but none between her and Luna. He'd chalk it all up to female asserting their superiority to the outsiders (males), but Luna had never participated in those games. A quick glance at Harry showed the man to be just as thrown off as he was, though, with a quick and nearly unnoticeable twitch, the man shrugged it off. His face closed off suddenly, and he turned to the door.
"Let's be on our way, then."
Harry paused in reaching for another log to throw on his fire, all of his instincts quivering for reasons he couldn't grasp. Now on alert, he finished reaching for the log, throwing it in the fire with a casual toss before turning around. A figure stood in the shadow of the trees, the night's darkness wrapped as if a cloak. Neither of the moved for several moments before a howl of a wolf wrenched apart the night. Harry turned to it instinctively, reaching for his wand; it was very close. When the howl tapered off, he turned back to the person, only to find it gone.
The next several days, Harry had such encounters with the shadow person, and came to suspect it in fact was not the same person, but different people. Each time, something would distract him, and when he would turn back, his visitor had gone, faded into the surrounding forest like mist. The second night, two mournful voices had lifted themselves into the sky, twining around them in deep, throbbing notes. Each night, more voices were heard, a concert of pack, becoming more and more joyful, more and more playful.
The night came when he saw them; flitting out of the trees and into the clearing he had set camp just outside of. Like shadows they glided over the ground, slipping one by one into the moonlight. They nipped at one another, grabbing each other's tails and prancing away, enticing their fellows into a spirited game of chase that soon had the entire pack in pursuit. Except for one. Bold and hoary, the huge and battered looking grey wolf stood in the center of the clearing, staring straight at Harry. He threw his head to the stars, his deep bass voice seeming to silence the forest itself. The pack broke off its chase, gathering around their leader in an endearing show of unity. One by one, they raised their voice in chorus, each voice startlingly singular and distinct, and at the same time so much in correspondence, Harry could not imagine their voices calling out on their own. The song ended, and they were gone, disappearing as only something wild could; as if they belonged to the forest and could ask it to open up and swallow them, and it would comply. It came to him later that night; he had not seen the shadow-visitor that night.
The next day he rose early, as he had the days before that. A hard hike a mile westward lay the fifth horocrux, and he had a very bad feeling about this one. His uneasiness all came down to one reason: it had been entirely too easy to find. Why was that so bad? Because the easier to reach, the harder, and more painful, actually getting to the horocrux was. Harry had located the horocrux three days ago, but had been perfecting his latest spell in hopes of surviving the thing's destruction. He had designed the spell to absorb whatever spells he'd encounter, and alter the magical force of that spell to a physical force. His tests had shown minor spells are reflected as blunt attacks, much like getting punched or hit with a bludgeon, while more severe spells result in cuts. He'd fixed the spell to where it would not react to Cruciatus after the first time he'd tested it on himself, the effect more crippling than the spell itself would be. Cruciatus, when it had hit his spell, had transferred the pain of broken bones and being carved into tiny pieces to reality, and he had nearly died from the experiment. He left the Imperious Curse alone, as well, because he could deal with that, but he hadn't tested the Killing Curse- because that would have been stupid- but he didn't set the conversion shield to ignore Avada Kadavra; any chance he had at surviving that particular spell he would take. He'd made the spell because it didn't drain his magic; it wasn't technically blocking the spells, as a normal shield would, so he was still paying a price. Regular shields exhausted magical resources faster than any other spell because all magic came with a price, and the sapping of his magical strength was something he couldn't afford.
Harry woke to the quiet tap on his window, closed because of the werewolves-in-training were having a romp that night. Hedwig pecked again at the window, bringing Harry's attention to her. He murmured a quiet spell, canceling the ward only in that spot to let the white owl in. She landed gracefully on the bed, nibbling on his fingers lovingly. He smiled, stroking her feathers gently. "Hello, girl. What do you have for me?"
He took the letter from her, and read the note twice before putting it down. The letter was a news bulletin; people were being encouraged to stay inside to lessen the chances of being attacked by werewolves. There had been three more attacks, and three more were anticipated for the next night. The Ministry was discussing options for how to control the situation in earnest. The bulletin was signed at the bottom; I thought this would interest you, Draconis Lucius Malfoy. Harry folded the letter and put it on his desk, rubbing his eyes tiredly. The information on werewolves he had gathered in the States would be of use in these discussions, and a firm hand deterring 'werewolf eradication,' which, no doubt, would be strongly favored. He wrote a short missive and gave it to Hedwig to return it to Mr. Malfoy, and stood. Dressing quickly, he slipped up to Cameron's room, waking the boy gently.
"Hey, Cam, get up and get dressed. I'll have breakfast ready for you in about fifteen minutes."
The little boy yawned tiredly. "But 'Ry! Its still dark."
"I've got to leave for a little while, and Mica is training the new puppies, so I'm going to see if you can stay with Mrs. Weasley. You would like that, wouldn't you? Besides, she'll feed you better food than I will."
"Ok." Cameron grumbled, slipping out of bed. Harry smiled and slipped downstairs. A quick firecall to Molly found that, yes, she had already been up, and of course she wouldn't mind watching over the little one. Harry thanked her and continued on to the kitchen. Twenty minutes later Harry opened the floo connections between his house and the Burrow.
"Harry, dear! It's so good to see you again so soon. Where is the little one?" Molly fussed, coming up to hug and brush imaginary dust off of his shoulders, reaching up to fix his hair. The fire flared green again, and Cameron stumbled sleepily into the room as the twins stepped through the door.
"Oh, what's this?"
"A Cam. Well met, kiddo."
The young boy's face lit up when he saw the troublesome brothers, having taken a liking to them at the hospital. George slung him up to his shoulders as they turned to Harry.
"Wotcher, Harry. What's with meeting the dawn?"
Harry shrugged, accepting a cup of tea from Molly with murmured thanks. "Draco sent me the article about the Ministry meeting to discuss werewolves- conveniently when there would be none who could represent themselves, I noticed. So I'm going to offer a word or two and hopefully prevent a man hunt."
"If they start talking about hunting down their Ministry, don't interfere, would you, Harry?"
"That's right. Natural selection is going to hit hard one of these days, and we will finally gain a semi-competent ministry." Fred and George grinned at one another.
Harry snorted, setting his empty cup down. "That's an overly optimistic view of things, don't you think? Take care of Camry." With a loud pop, he apparated out.
The twins exchanged a speaking glance, matching evil grins breaking out on their faces. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, brother?"
"Oh, yes, my dear, I do believe I am."
"I almost hate to ask this- What are you thinking?" Hermoine asked from the doorway.
They turned on her, eyes gleaming. "There is chemistry in the air." Fred sang gaily.
"Uh-huh. What?" Hermoine asked, rolling her eyes.
"Harry… and Draco."
Hermoine opened her mouth to refute it, but then shut it again. After a few moments she looked up at the twins. "How the two of you figure these things out, I'll never know, but it's a plausible idea. Where was he going?"
"The heads of the Ministry are discussing the werewolf infestation." They answered simultaneously.
"They're what!" Hermoine screeched, turning to and bolting up the stair amid the clatter and squeaking of the rickety boards.
Draco sat elegantly in the meeting room, his keen eyes hooded with a combination of irritability and lack of sleep. The majority of the people occupying the seats around him caused the irritability, all fluttering and blustering and bumbling like complete and utter morons. A couple acted like the renowned wizards they were, and like wizards that were up far too early in the morning. The scowl on the Head of the Wizengamot face showed his displeasure, and the thoughtfulness on Griselda Marchbanks face told Draco she was chewing over just what the meaning was of the meeting being called while the werewolves were recovering from being furry. A sudden silence brought Draco from his musing, and he looked up to see the Boy-Wonder standing in the doorway.
"Mr. Potter." Minister Scringemor started, obviously surprised.
Harry let his gaze fall coolly on the man only long enough to acknowledge him, before sweeping the room, taking in account all who were there. Only when he finished, did he turn back to Rufus, giving a barely perceptible nod. "Minister. Good morning." Draco quelled the urge to smirk, picking up on the scarcely discernible irony in Harry's tone. His greeting done, Harry turned and strode to the table, settling into the seat next to Draco, giving no excuse or reason for his presence, making no apologies for arriving uninvited. Scrimgeor looked miffed, and a few of the older wizards and witches muttered about impertinence. Draco kept his satisfaction inside- he always loved it when someone threw a wrench into the well-greased High Class Society. People began to search for seats, ready to begin the meeting- when the door opened again. Hermoine Granger walked in, accompanied by Arthur and Ronald Weasley.
"I apologize for being late." Hermione said, in a voice that clearly carried her disappointment. She reminded Draco of Professor McGonagall on her good days- and this was one of her better days. He couldn't tell for sure, but the amused twitch of Harry's lips seemed to say he too saw the resemblance. "I am afraid our notifications were lost- or forgotten- but, really, it is no big deal, we made it. Perhaps we should begin?"
The minister cleared his throat, obviously thrown off course by the interruptions. "Erm, yes, let us begin. This meeting was called to discuss what to do about the werewolves-"
"Excuse me, Minister." Harry said softly, green eyes half lidded with seeming idle interest. "But 'werewolves?' I was under the impression there was only one werewolf threatening the community at the time, Fenrir Greyback, I believe?"
"Unless, of course, your intentions were to skip over the most obvious threat- the werewolf responsible for the attacks- and discussing what is to be done about those werewolves being attacked? I am sure it's for their well being, of course." Hermoine sat with her shoulders back and her back straight, looking down her nose at the minister. If he had looked uncomfortable before, he looked doubly so now.
Harry huffed. "Then this meeting is a waste of my time. The attacked wizards and witches are being seen to by an associate of mine, another werewolf from overseas. I'm not sure if you're aware of the political system regarding werewolves over there, but they have them firmly under control, allowing for a werewolf council that takes care of any rogue werewolves. I believe, in fact, were we in the United States, we could dump this whole Greyback mess in their laps and be done with it. There are benefits to the system. Anyway, I suppose I'll leave you to your talks, and go inform Mr. Weasley and Ms. Lovegood they've been taken care of- unless, of course you would like me to add the most frequent victims to our string? Mica can handle the load- honestly, she's been a dominant in every pack she's joined so far, and there's no doubt of her handling herself and them." He made to stand, but didn't appear to be surprised when Minister Scrimgeor made to stop him.
"Really, Har- Mr. Potter, not so hasty. We've still a number of things to talk about." Harry settled back into his chair, looking impatient. "We, um, we did call this meeting to discuss what to do with the new werewolves."
"To do with them, Minister?" Draco questioned lazily, his arrogant drawl breaking into Scrimgeor's mumblings easily.
"Well, yes- they are werewolves now, we simply cannot let them-"
Draco held up a hand, and the man came to blustering silence. "Allow me to finish, please. You are uncomfortable with Mr. Weasley and Ms. Lovegood being left to their own devices, and, as they are werewolves, they might have suddenly forgotten a good many laws they have previously known to follow. Feel free to correct me if I am wrong, Minister."
Arthur raised a brow when Scrimgeor stayed silent. "Do you agree with this statement? That simply from becoming a werewolf, my son is no longer capable of moral or legal deduction? And neither is Ms. Lovegood?"
His eyes darted to the side. "No, Arthur, I am afraid you've misunderstood me. I simply am wondering how the two are going to cope with such a sudden upheaval in their lives- and of course there is the danger of Fenrir Greyback returning and trying to, erm, force the two over to his side-"
"His side now, is it?" Harry sighed. "Honestly, that would make Fenrir Greyback the most prominent danger, wouldn't it?"
"Perhaps you are not aware," Scrimgeor began angrily, "but not all over here has been wonderful in your absence. Greyback has quite a following, and these beasts have been quite a nuisance, let me tell you-"
"I am quite aware just how things transpired in 'my absence,' as you so delicately put it- did you think I would just waltz back in here without knowing a thing about what's been going on? Do I look like a fool to you?" Harry asked coldly, his face impassive. "And, in my absence, I learned quite a bit, including an affective way of handling these so-called beasts. Are you aware, Minister, it was a wizard who first brought the curse into being? No, I don't dare suggest then that you've done even an ounce of research in regard to the werewolf curse, knowing it would be a more than foolish question. I won't bother to go into specifics, but the curse was made by accident, when a wizard by the name of Peter Stubbe tried to find an alternative to shape shifting, other than becoming an animagus, that is. Because Stubbe was not following the proper methods of inventing potions and spells, he forgot to limit the affects to himself. The potion, therefore, became much like a disease; passed on through open wounds and mingling of blood, but not through hereditary methods by any means. It was not, as many choose to believe, a curse by any deity on those with less than virtuous scruples. The American packs I met with had quite a bit to say about the curse, and several of the witches and wizards were more than knowledgeable on the topic- undoubtedly an aid in how well werewolf-wizarding relations were. The pack systems helps new werewolves learn to control their beast, to an affect they don't even need the Wolfsbane potion, much less costly on their part, let me tell you, and cuts down on the attacks from local werewolves. Oddly enough," and there was more than a little sarcasm in his next statement. "Not ostracizing them from society cuts down majorly on having an evil being with an evil following- I wonder how that works."
By now the minister's face was an odd puce color, and a lot of the older wizards in the room were looking decidedly mutinous. Griselda Marchbanks had not lost the thoughtful expression, and the wrinkled Head of the Wizengamot had lost the air of irritation and was now looking as if he were rather enjoying himself.
Hermoine cleared her throat. "You said something earlier about your werewolf associate- Mica? Picking up the other attacked werewolves? If she's teaching them control, it certainly would help- it would also help if they could have leave from their jobs, and pay to support their families if they have them- to show the Ministry's support, of course."
"I am sorry?" Scrimgeor said dispassionately, staring at her blankly.
She gave him an equally blank look. "Their jobs, Minister. They need a few days off before they can get back to them anyway, and this could easily be listed under proper training for their fields- they do need it, to learn to control themselves, that is. And if the Ministry is not having to shell out money to cover the costs of Wolfsbane, all the better, right?"
"I was not aware these… people would be keeping their jobs." Scrimgeor replied somewhat stiffly.
She gave him an obviously confused look. "Minister, just what are they supposed to do for livelihood, then? Surely you did not miss the obvious explanation Mr. Potter gave for the support Greyback has been receiving? He will have much more support shortly if things continue on as they have, simply because the affected werewolves will have no where to turn. Do I need to remind you we've just walked away from the eve of one war? I for one would rather not deal with another so shortly."
There was an alarmed fluttering, and another voice was raised. "Now, Ms. Granger, let us not get so hasty to start talking about war so soon!"
She turned her head and pinned the speaker with a look. "Would you prefer we ignore this issue until becomes one? That is what happened with Voldemort, in both the first and second war. In the first we ignored him, thinking him to be no threat. The second was a more foolish cover-up to save face- as ridiculous as it is. We need to control the direction of this latest upheaval, now, before we are left behind."
"I agree with Ms. Granger." Madame Marchbanks interjected over her peers' flustered objections. The others fell silent. "Something different must be done in position to the werewolves- what has been done with the werewolves previous up-rising was nothing short of genocide- I would prefer that not happen again." She snapped her fingers and immediately a house elf. "Inform Dirk Cresswell, Head of the Being Department, of this meeting, and request his input, if you would. Lead him here if he agrees to meet with us. If not, inform me immediately." The house elf nodded and popped out of sight. "What do we need to talk about- it is best to have this organized, it saves time."
Hermoine nodded, her eyes alight with eagerness. Still, she remained prim and proper in form, and her voice was not overeager, enthusiastic, certainly, and that enthusiasm encouraged others to add their input. Harry himself put in only a few words, while Draco interjected only when questions of financing came to the fore. Scrimgeor simply sat back, at a loss on how to take charge of the situation.
A firm knock interrupted their discussion, and a relatively young man, only a few years older than Draco, Hermoine, Ron, and Harry, stepped in. "I'm told there is a werewolf discussion going on here?"
Hermoine turned and smiled welcomingly. "Yes, there is. Please have a seat, Mr. Cresswell."
He took a seat across from her as she slid a parchment to him. "This is a list of questions, issues, and brief suggestions we've formed on how to deal with the predicted rash of new werewolves- and those who would be agreeable to this suggested program." Dirk nodded distractedly, eyes skimming rapidly over the list as he reached for the quill and began to jot down bit's a pieces of information, and even scratch out a few things. Hermione continued talking. "The most popular idea, of course, is to let Harry's associate, Mistress Mica Crest- a werewolf from the United States, also a former member of the Werewolf Committee, apparently those with lycanthropy are better suited at dealing with others with lycanthropy than regular witches and wizards- anyhow, I'm getting off subject. The most popular opinion is to allow Ms. Crest to undertake the duty of teaching werewolves of the program how to control their beast, and once she's judged them competent, to allow them to return to their jobs. It would not be harmful to have the advice of a few more American werewolf experts, especially if what Mr. Potter says is true and they do let werewolves run their own affairs. This way, land is already being provided, and the security is efficient- more than efficient, even. Also, Mr. Malfoy has agreed to pick up the tab for the program, so really, all we need to do is to discuss the finer points, perhaps allow some room for the program to grow, and of course I'm getting ahead of myself. What we really wanted your opinion on, and what we've yet to discuss, is how to deal with Fenrir Greyback."
It was such an abrupt change of topic that several people were left with their heads spinning. Dirk lifted his head from the parchment, for the first time taking interest in what was going on in the room. "Before we get started, might I point out it will take while for any such program to be approved, and passed, and a temporary solution should be determined before we move on?"
Hermoine turned to Scrimgeor. "You have been awfully quiet, Minister. What is your opinion?"
"Erm… uh."
Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation, taking the decision away from the Minister of Magic before he could do any damage. "I see no reason not to send the werewolves Mr. Potter's land, on full pay since they obviously can't work for the next couple of weeks. In fact, they'd better have pay until this mess can be cleared up. Mr. Cresswell, I have a ledger here that will allow us to draw up a quick and easy contract, if you will help me with the format?" It took a few, simple moments before they had a relatively faultless contract drawn, and had coerced the Minister into signing it, along with the two attending members of the Wizengamot. Hermoine, of course, had her own few things to say, all of which were no end of helpful, and Madame Marchbanks gave her approval in no uncertain terms. Finally, they turned to the subject of Fenrir Greyback.
Mr. Cresswell shook his head. "He has avoided hunters for years- shows up like the bogeyman from stories before seemingly dissipating into thin air. No one can get a trace on him- even the Dark Lord couldn't keep him at his beck and call, which I'm sure gave him no end of frustration. We have no records of who he was previously- Fenrir Greyback is a chosen name, not legal. He doesn't use money- the reason we can't locate him. I assume he's living very much like a wolf in the wilderness, constantly on the move. The thestrals don't like werewolves, so the Forbidden Forest around Hogwarts is safe, and has been safe for more than a few years. He's unpredictable and unstable, lacks the pack loyalty normally attributed to those with lycanthropy. Its been nearly impossible to trap, trick, or otherwise thwart him. Had the Dark Lord taken council from anyone with less than pure blood, this war probably would have ended differently. For all his insanity, Greyback is a mastermind- can get inside people's heads. How he can convince werewolves to join his side when it is he that got them in the predicament in the first place-" He trailed off, shaking his head.
Harry shifted, a loud pop sounding as he shifted creaking joints. A person could grow old in these meetings. "You are basically thinking we cannot out think him." He stated, once again lounging idly in the chair.
Draco shrugged. "Ron should have a crack at that before we give it up completely- your next assignment, for however long it will take you." He said to Ron, who nodded thoughtfully. "Furthermore, there are spells that could be used to at least notify you on where he is- magic does not affect werewolves as readily as any other creature, they seem to have developed a resistance to it, but a strong enough spell will alert people to his presence. I am not sure which spells those are, but should anyone find out…" He left off, glancing at Hermoine.
She nodded. "I have the proper books, and have gone over quite a few that should be easily recognizable when I go back through the pages. I'll inform you as soon as I've found them."
He nodded, then turned to the rest of the table. "Other than assign people duties in this area, there is not much else we can do. With the victim's families, they should be moved to a secure place, if they are not already in one- once his victims start disappearing, he is not going to be pleased. My London Manor will do nicely, I believe, unless there are objections? No, that's settled then. The rooms are ready; I suspect the Ministry will handle the transportation?"
Once the important things were out of the way, those neglected had to natter on about useless precautions and worries. It was two in the afternoon before Scrimgeor finally called halt to the meeting. Harry was hungry, thirsty, and more than a little stiff stepping out of the dank old room.
"The house elves have a meal waiting on us if the lot of you would care to join me." Draco said off-handedly as Hermoine, the Weasleys, Harry and him began to walk towards the front of the building. Arthur declined, saying Molly was expecting him, but the other three agreed readily enough. They opted for the Floo Network, as apparation would leave them outside his estate a few miles, and they really didn't feel like half-an-hour's worth of walking. Harry looked around the place in interest, while it was obvious the others were familiar enough with the place not to let it affect their hunger. He followed them more slowly, his eyes tracing the artwork on the walls and the portraits, roving over richly done sculptures and finely crafted architecture. The Malfoys were one of the richest families in the world, and the décor made the fact an obvious one.
"This was my father's least favorite property, a fact I'm rather fond of." Draco remarked from the entrance to another hall.
"You've been rather generous in out talks today." Harry said, as if he hadn't heard him.
Draco shrugged. "Money was going to be an issue, and I can easily handle ten times the amount we plan to put forth."
Harry nodded as he fell into step with the blonde, running the meeting's contents over in his mind. He let out a little snort of amusement, causing Draco to look at him in question. Shaking his head, he chuckled quietly. "Scrimgeor didn't quite know what hit him, did he? Rather wish it had been Fudge- but I don't know if I can handle seeing the bastard without breaking a couple more specific Ministry laws."
An satisfied smirk stole across Draco's face, apparently he was pleased with the Minister's reaction, as well. "Your house will need an addition if we are turning it into Werewolf Boot Camp." He remarked.
"I suppose it will- that won't be a problem, I'll have the builders out there in a week, at most. We have another month before we've any real need as it is."
"I'll handle the cost, as I've assumed responsibility for financing the camp anyway."
"I can handle it." Harry argued.
"Nah, seriously. Spend some money on that cute little boy you're taking care of- speaking of which, where are you planning to stay? I can't imagine you'll be comfortable at the Burrow- they're popping through the seems as it is- and keeping the boy in the same house as werewolves is reckless, even for you."
"I was going to bare it." Harry said with a shrug. "At the Weasley's, I mean. Hermoine and Ron are still upset with me, which should make meals cheery, but, after living so long in America, I'm rather used to being snarled at over meals."
"I just bet you are." Draco muttered, coming to a stop in front of closed doors. He paused with his hand on the handle, tipping his head back thoughtfully. "You know, this is a rather large manor- and I really could avoid your insufferable ass if I felt the need; the offer's open for you to stay here- it is the most convenient of meeting places, seeing as it was our wartime Headquarters, and most of our research material is here as it is." He looked over his shoulder.
Harry was grinning, green eyes showing something other than irritation or anger for the first time since Draco had seen him again. "Perhaps that would be tolerable." He replied, imitating Draco's posh accent. "Considering I can skive off anytime you start to annoy me. I suppose it will have to do." Draco laughed, and opened the door, leading the into the room Hermoine and Ron were already occupying, eating the bounty the house elves had laid out for them.