Though the werewolves attended the conference and indeed signed the Treaty of the Wood, they no longer remember their predecessors' promise. Perhaps, if and when Lady Saysa's Speaker comes, they will remember, but until then, they will doubtless continue to ignore the promise.

-Sayern nar-Hazozh (The History of the Treaty), translated from Gobblededook circa 1952

Tyr Ulfhednar stared east, across the sea. He stood on the eastern shore of Founder's Isle but was scarcely aware of his surroundings. That was why Sirius was able to sneak up on him without the normally alert alpha noticing.

"What're you looking at?" the Animagus inquired.

To Tyr's credit, he didn't jump. Instead he answered, "Not Britain. I'm looking past that, to mainland Europe. To Asia, even, but Europe first. Europe has more werewolves than any other continent on Earth."

Sirius waited.

"We've freed Britain," the alpha continued. "Pallas saved France on her vacation- sounds like the ultimate working vacation to me. But the rest of the world: the Baltics, the Balkans, Scandinavia, the Russian steppes, and the river valleys of India, everywhere! Their werewolves are still sick. Still enslaved to themselves." His brow furrowed. "Someone needs to save them."

"You?" asked Sirius, surprised. Tyr hadn't been back that long, after all, and he was the Alpha of Britain. He had duties in the isles that he couldn't fulfill if he were gallivanting around the Continent.

Tyr shrugged. "Why not me? I'm already a wanted fugitive. I have connections overseas, if only in Livonia. And I know some of the other alphas, if only be reputation. They'd know me as well."

Padfoot nodded. "That makes sense, I guess. But what about your pack?"

"That's where you come in," the werewolf explained. "Sirius, would you mind lending those old mirrors you and James Potter used to speak with in different detentions?"

The Animagus's face lit up. "Yeah, I think so. They'd be somewhere in Grimmauld Place, probably in my old room." He grinned sheepishly. "When I left, I kind of abandoned a lot of my stuff, including my mirror. And I think that Remus took James's old mirror after… after things went wrong." He scowled. "One day, I will find that traitor."

"I know you will," Tyr assured him. "But, as it's almost seven in the evening, I doubt that day will be today."

Padfoot barked a laugh. "Good point," he acknowledged. "Was that your way of hinting that I should call Kreacher and ask him to look for the mirror?" He frowned. "And speaking of Kreacher, d'you think he'd be able to hunt down Pettigrew? I wouldn't put it past him. Rats and men with a finger missing aren't that common."

"It can't hurt," Tyr decided. "And maybe the other elves could help- I think they're getting bored, with so many of them taking care of so few of us. The Sorting Hat isn't exactly high-maintenance."

"Actually," Sirius admitted, "I think that they've been cleaning the werewolves' homes behind our backs. They know quite a bit about the CC, and Remus mentioned that his house had been abnormally clean lately…."

The werewolf chuckled.

"But it's a good idea," the Animagus finished. "Kreacher!"

The house-elf materialized with a tiny popping noise. "Yes, Master?" he croaked. "How can Kreacher serve Master?"

As always, the sight of his deranged old elf actually willing to help him made Sirius question the natural of the universe. He shook the uncanny sensation off and said, "There's an enchanted mirror in my old room back at Grimmauld."

"Kreacher will fetch it for master."

"I hate the fetch jokes," Sirius muttered as his servant popped away. Half a second later, the elf returned with a round mirror in his hands. He gave it to Sirius.

"Thanks," the wizard said. Then he got back down to business. "You remember Peter Pettigrew, right? I brought him and my other friends over during summer break a couple times."

"Kreacher remembers Master's filthy half-blood rat-friend. Kreacher and Kreacher's Mistress never liked the rat-friend."

Sirius grimaced at the mention of 'filthy half-bloods' but let it slide. His servant had gotten a thousand times better since Pallas, who had fulfilled Regulus's dying wish by helping Kreacher destroy the locket Horcrux, let slip that she was Muggle-born. Still, old habits die hard, and Sirius was hardly going to chide Kreacher for insulting someone he himself loathed.

"If I asked you to find him, could you?"

Kreacher actually looked hurt. "Kreacher understands Master's distrust, for Kreacher failed in Master Regulus's final task for many long years, but Master must remember that with the help of Madame Dhar, Kreacher did succeed! And Kreacher is diligent; he will not give up the search. Does Master want Kreacher to hunt down the disgusting treacherous rat?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice."

The house-elf's smile became downright sadistic. "Kreacher shall enjoy wreaking vengeance on the abominable scum-beast who consigned Kreacher's Master to years in nasty prison. Yes, Kreacher shall enjoy this very, very much." He was actually rubbing his hands together in unholy glee. "With Master's leave, Kreacher will now begin the hunt."

Sirius nodded faintly. "Go for it."

Kreacher vanished.

Sirius turned to Tyr, his expression frozen in shocked horror. "Dear Merlin, what evil did I unleash upon the unsuspecting world?"

"Not the world," the werewolf reminded him. "Just Pettigrew."

Sirius relaxed. "Oh. That's all right, then." He assumed an expression uncomfortably similar to Kreacher's happy face. "Wonder how long that will take?"

"I have no idea," Tyr admitted. "I don't know much about house-elves or their hunting skills."

Padfoot frowned, considered. "I've heard that they have a great information network. Purebloods don't often pay much attention to their servants, so house-elves get to learn all sorts of embarrassing things about their masters. If Pettigrew is hiding out with some random family of Death Eaters, their elf will know. And I have no doubt that Kreacher will find some way of getting the information out of them." He blanched. "Oh, Merlin, I really did create a monster."

Tyr grinned, uncharacteristically amused. "Well, at least he's on our side."

"You're definitely leaving, then?" Harry kept his voice carefully neutral. He knew that his initial reaction to Tyr's imminent departure and his sorrow at the thought was childish and impractical. The werewolf had already delayed far too long. As he said, the lycanthropes outside of Britain and France still had to be cured.

"Definitely," Tyr confirmed.

Harry nodded. "Do you want to take the Sorcerer's Stone? You'll need more money than we will; we'll just be in school or at work."

The alpha considered. Then he nodded. "I don't like having two highly magical artifacts on my person, but that's probably a good idea."

"Just be careful," the younger wizard advised. "It wouldn't do to lose you." He smiled ruefully. "It wouldn't do to lose anyone. Or the artifacts, I suppose." He forced his face and voice into their usual businesslike modes. "I'm assuming you called Remus here because you want him to be alpha when you're gone?"

Remus, who had been sitting quietly in the corner as Tyr explained his plans, started. "What?"

"You assumed right," Tyr replied. "He's been a good beta this summer, spreading the word among our kind without alerting the Aurors. Except Tonks, of course, and no one predicted that she'd try and help us on the full moon."

"You want me to be alpha?" the other werewolf exclaimed. "You want me to lead the pack while you're gone?"

"Who else?" The elder demanded. "Who is trusted by both the Aurors and our people? Who else knows how to contact Harry here in the blink of an eye? Who knows me better than you? Who invented and initiated all those combat maneuvers?"

"Well, yes," the other admitted, "but there have been others who have contributed just as much, if not more. Take Cynthia-"

"Too hard-headed."

"Or Giles-"

"Too impulsive, not respected enough."

"Guadalupe-"

"Never heard of her."

"Sirius, even."

"Do you really think that the others will willingly follow a non-werewolf?"

Remus grimaced. "Well, no," he confessed. "But me?"

Tyr nodded firmly. "I trust you, Remus. You're not bloodthirsty or bent on revenge, but you know how to fight and how to strategize. Outsiders trust you; well, the ones who have met you trust you. The idiots who read that article from eighteen months back don't. You have connections with the Aurors and the Isle, and you'll be connected to me as well." He reached into his pack, pulled out a very familiar magical object.

Moony stared. "Sirius's old mirror," he breathed. A smile crossed his face. "I remember this…."

"I have the other," Tyr explained. "According to Sirius, these things will work even if half the globe separates them. If some kind of emergency comes up, just call. Of course, that doesn't mean I'm giving you leave to contact me whenever something goes wrong, just emergencies. You're more than capable of handling most events on your own."

Remus shook his head, but his heart wasn't in the denial. Instead, he said, "Thank you, Tyr. This is an honor."

The elder werewolf shrugged. "It's not an honor when you've earned it, Remus."

The other lycanthrope grinned. As always, joy brought youth to his careworn features, made him look his actual age. "I don't know about that, Tyr. But…." He took the mirror. "I'll do my best."

Tyr smiled back. "We all will."

Late that night, the free werewolves of Britain as opposed to the few who still followed Fenrir Greyback, Portkeyed onto Founder's Isle. Their alpha had commanded them to come and so they obeyed.

Only three non-lycanthropes were present: Pollux Ophion Riddle, the Moon Lord who had freed them; Saysa of the Chamber, the Guardian; and Nymphadora Tonks, the only Auror (technically still an Auror-trainee) who had ever heard of the Chalice of the Moon.

Unfortunately for Tonks, not all the werewolves were overly thrilled with her knowledge. They didn't trust her; didn't trust any human except the prophesied five. They especially didn't trust Aurors, even Auror-trainees.

She tried to make small talk with a couple women about her own age, but their answers were aloof and icy. But Tonks was nothing if not persistent, so she launched into a story involving her Metamorphmagus abilities and April Fools' Day.

By the time Tyr began his speech, the two young werewolves were smiling. Not widely, but still smiling. Tonks counted that as a victory.

"We are free," Tyr announced. "We have escaped lycanthropy's curse…. But our brothers and sisters have not. In Europe, in the Americas, in Australia, in Africa, in Asia, the other werewolves are bound to the cycle of the moon. Each month, they are forced to fight the tortured beast within their own souls."

Tonks shivered. She had never experienced the werewolf transformation (not being a werewolf did that to you), but from Remus's descriptions, it was absolutely awful. She didn't want to think about what it would be like to go through that month after month after month.

Tyr changed the subject, or at least, he seemed to. "I'm a convicted criminal. I can't walk through Magical Britain without someone potentially noticing my identity and turning me in. But overseas… overseas, I'm nobody."

The werewolves began to murmur among themselves. They didn't like where this was going.

"It shouldn't take too long for me to track down the rest of our people," Tyr continued. "Ministries all over the world have packed us into concentration camps. They did so for their own benefit, but we can, we will, use them for ours. Their own prejudice will contribute to the worldwide cure."

His gaze hardened. "Don't try to talk me out of this. You all know that I am the best choice.

"But I will not be leaving you leaderless. Sirius Black generously donated a pair of magical communication mirrors. I will take one with me on my journey. Remus Lupin, my beta and regent, will carry the other."

Tonks (and indeed almost everyone on the Isle) looked over at Remus. The lycanthrope seemed rather embarrassed by the attention, but he held himself high. Tonks smiled. Tyr had chosen well.

Except that not everyone thought so. A middle-aged werewolf a few feet in front of Tonks moaned, "Lupin's the boss now? Merlin help us, everyone knows he's the Aurors' pet."

"Just look at that Auror girlfriend of his," the lycanthrope's companion growled.

'That Auror girlfriend of his' bit back an angry retort. First off, she wanted to say, get your facts straight! We're not dating. Not that I haven't tried….

Six weeks or so ago, Tonks had oh-so-casually commented that Remus really should join her for dinner sometime. The werewolf had gone stiff as a board. "I don't think that would be a good idea, Dora," he had whispered.

Tonks's heart had nearly frozen over. "Why not?" she demanded.

"Because… some people… would think of it as a date. And those people… they're the ones in charge of your career, and they'd never let you date a werewolf."

"But you're cured," she pointed out.

"They don't know that."

The Auror's face had gone hard. "I know that they don't. And I know that I don't care, I'd ask you even if Pollux hadn't found the cure. I'd still l-"

Remus had flinched. "Even though I am cured," he'd said, "I'm still old and poor and broken. I'd ruin your career, your youth, your family, your life. Your co-workers already resent our friendship. If we were to… go out for dinner, even as friends, they would take it the wrong way. Then you'd never graduate."

"I don't know if I want to be an Auror anymore," she had confessed. "Not if it means enslaving people like you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Even if it means protecting people from those like Greyback?"

Tonks looked away. Being an Auror was her childhood dream, the goal of her life. Despite what she had said, she still wanted to be one, if only to reform the system from within. Merlin knew the system needed reform. But she also wanted Remus, and she had no idea how to accomplish both those goals.

"I'm a Metamorphmagus, you know," she told him. One last try, "I can look like anyone." Her hair cycled through blond to brown to black to red before returning to its usual pink.

"I think, Dora," he had sighed, "that they'd still know. And then they'd punish you for it. You know they would."

She was one year through Auror training. She had two years to go. Then, once she had graduated and people could no longer hold that threat over her head, she would go to Remus again. Well, okay, she'd probably try again sooner, two years was a long time, but she'd definitely go to him the second the 'trainee' dropped from her job title.

Hopefully by then Remus would have come to his senses. But Tonks wouldn't bet the farm on that; he was Remus, after all.

But enough flashbacking, here and now, in the present, a pair of bitter and probably jealous lycanthropes was slandering their new alpha.

Tonks cleared her throat. The werewolves glanced toward the source of the noise. The smaller had the decency to blush. The larger raised a belligerent eyebrow and asked, "Yes?"

"Remus and I aren't dating," she informed him bluntly. "Just so you know."

The larger werewolf snorted. "Really. You seem very buddy-buddy for two single people who aren't dating."

Tonks sniffed. "Just because you are incapable of befriending a female without wanting her to be something more doesn't mean that Remus suffers the same deficiencies."

At the front of the crowd, Tyr decided that he'd let people debate and mutter long enough. "I have every faith in Remus," he growled, fixing everyone he'd heard suggest otherwise with a baleful gray gaze. "Yes, he has connections to the Aurors, but he is more than loyal enough to use those connections for our benefit. How many of you can say the same?"

No one dared answer what was obviously a challenge. They had no intention of questioning Tyr's leadership, Remus's perhaps, but never Tyr's.

The alpha nodded. "Remus has already proven himself as my beta. You all acknowledge that he has invented several useful training maneuvers, and he's good at handling day-to-day affairs. He's beyond capable of handling the job of alpha for the next few months, and even if something does happen that's beyond his ability to handle, and I doubt it will, he has an easy way to contact me. Of course," he smiled coldly, "if you feel you could do better, feel free to let me know. I don't leave until the morning."

The werewolves looked around the crowd, wanting to see if anyone would step forward. A couple people shifted, including the large lycanthrope who had argued with Tonks, but no one moved.

Tyr smiled at them. "I thought not."

The next day during the werewolves' meager lunch break, Giles Hunter stalked up to Remus Lupin. The younger, smaller (not many of their people were larger than Giles) lycanthrope fought back a groan.

Still, he was a polite man by nature, so instead of heading for the hills, he asked, "May I help you?"

"Your Auror-trainee is a leak waiting to happen." Giles was blunt as always.

"Dora isn't going to betray us," Remus sighed. "Tyr knows it, I know it, and anyone who bothers to talk with her knows it. She's actually gotten into a bit of trouble with some full-fledged Aurors for being too sympathetic to werewolves. She's not a leak."

Giles shook his head. "Maybe not yet," he grudgingly admitted, "but if it comes to a choice between her people and ours, I know which side she'll choose."

Remus bristled at the implications.

"The only kind of person we can really trust is a werewolf."

The gauntlet was thrown, the lines drawn in the sand. Remus's hackles rose. "No," he growled. "Absolutely not."

"It's the only way to guarantee-"

Remus drew himself to his full height. "You trust Pollux, don't you?" he snapped. "Him and the others. They're not werewolves. Neither is Saysa. And they're all Animagi, now, so they can't become werewolves. If you trust them and Sirius, then why shouldn't you trust Dora?"

"Because they were the ones who actually went out and found and stole the Chalice. They've proven themselves, Lupin, and your girlfriend has not."

"Firstly, she isn't my girlfriend. Second, doesn't she prove herself each and every day that she keeps silent?"

Giles avoided the question. "It's not going to last. The only way we can trust her for certain is-"

"No."

Something in Remus's voice made Giles's inner wolf flop onto its back. This wasn't the voice of someone willing to put up with useless paranoia. This was the voice of the man to whom their alpha had entrusted his pack.

"Change Dora," the Beta of Britain growled, "and you'll be no better than Greyback. Are you?"

"We're all better than Fenrir," Giles mumbled, gazing down to his feet. His inner wolf wanted to whine for forgiveness, but he suppressed the urge.

"Then Dora will stay human," Remus proclaimed flatly. "Fully human. Just like Pollux, Pallas, Alexander, Bianca, and Apollo. And if she does not remain fully human, I'll know exactly who to blame. Do you understand me?"

"I understand." The admission was given grudgingly, angrily, reluctantly, but it was still given.

"Good."

One of the Aurors who oversaw the werewolves' labor (supposedly these Aurors guarded against a werewolf revolt, but in reality they merely made sure that international trade continued by forcing werewolves to work as dock men) decided that his charges had taken too long to eat. "Back to work, dogs!" he barked.

The lycanthropes went back to work. Their labor was easier now, as the Chalice had increased their strength even as it had heightened their senses and stamina. Yet they worked sluggishly, not wanting the Aurors to catch on. Besides, they had to save strength for their training that night.

They had vowed to become Pollux's army, and every army needed to be ready for battle.

By unspoken consent, Remus and Giles walked to the opposite sides of the tiny port. They didn't speak again or even lay eyes on each other for the rest of the day. But they both knew that their avoidance couldn't last forever. Their debate wasn't over yet.

"That article" is a reference to the old rumors that Remus is corrupting the Boy-Who-Lived's brother to do... um... evil werewolf things. What those evil werewolf things are, not even the article knows.

So yeah. Politics.

Next up: filler space, and the names for the Tournament.

The rest of this AN has nothing to do with my fanfiction or even HP. It's basically just a recommendation for an amazing fantasy series called The Death Gate Cycle. It's by Weis and Hickman, the Dragonlance people, and it literally has everything. Secret identities (books 1-7), dragons (1-7), plots (1-7), shattered stereotypes (1-7), zombies (3, 6-7), a manifestation of the ultimate evil in the universe (4-7)... I'd continue, but then the list would take up more text than my actual fic. Just trust me when I say that it is awesome. First book is called Dragon Wing. Read away, dear friends!

-Antares