Notes: Finally, a piece that links directly into critical events in the canon timeline. Because of the wait, it's extra long.
And guys, you will notice that I have marked the fic as "Complete." That does not necessarily mean that this will be the final update. I am still interested in the AU and won't rule out writing more for it (so please remain subscribed if you are). However, as of this writing, I don't have any additional ideas for scenes (ETA: Not true anymore! This is no longer the last chapter of the fic). I decided I didn't want such a long fic to appear abandoned, potentially turning away readers who come across it in listings or on my profile. Thanks so much to everyone who has supported this story!
Chapter Thirty-One: The Nature of the Beast
Late 1962.
Tom flicked a piece of lint off his jacket. He had charmed it to repel lint and dust; apparently the charm needed refreshing. It would have to be done later, because he had a public meeting.
He had been holding these public town halls every month for about half a year now, and they were quite a success at endearing him to the wizarding public. Public support was critical to keeping the Wizengamot on his side. He was not in danger of losing his coalition on the Wizengamot, but he had certainly failed to implement anything approximating his policy goal of Dark Arts classes at Hogwarts—after a press campaign in the Daily Prophet that had given him rather favorable print.
Then bloody Dumbledore had indicated that he had divined one of Tom's dark secrets and could blackmail him. It would be very difficult, if not impossible, to "remove" Dumbledore, and Hermione would instantly figure out that he was responsible. She had a certain degree of affection for the man, and Tom did not think that killing Dumbledore would be something she could forgive. Better, too, to keep him alive and a tentative political ally on some matters. Dumbledore's support had made the difference for a few policies that Tom had proposed, and he was keeping the Reformist faction from falling down the niffler hole of Septimus Weasley's pro-Muggle ideological radicalism.
—Not that there weren't forces at work trying to pull the faction in that direction. Unfortunately, Tom had to take a little bit of blame to his own side for that. About a year ago, shortly after the Dark Arts compromise, a couple of enterprising Wizarding Nationalists started a partisan magazine—as Hermione described it with pinched face, and Tom could only agree despite the fact that he liked the content. The Ouroboros unabashedly supported Wizarding Nationalist ideas, acting both as a booster to rally his faction and an intellectual brain trust slightly removed from the Ministry and Wizengamot. Tom himself had contributed a couple of articles to it since it was founded. It was nice to have a venue to explain his ideas in thorough detail. But its success had spawned comparable magazines for the Isolationists and Reformists, each with their own reader base. Hermione was concerned that it would lead to the sides all radicalizing, helped by openly partisan media to provide their news and reinforce their views to their dedicated readers.
Tom had realized after that unpleasant meeting with Dumbledore last year that he needed to make himself less vulnerable, and he trusted Hermione's misgivings about partisan press, so he also wanted to reduce the danger of living inside an ideological bubble-head charm. He decided that it was better to be proactive in shoring up support instead of reacting to political crises, and keeping up with what the wizarding public as a whole thought—hence his town halls.
Tom's "Ask Your Minister" sessions were reasonably popular, with a decent crowd attending almost all the time. He was, he must acknowledge, a very attractive, charismatic, and photogenic person, and that made a lot of difference. He smiled his characteristic superiorly-pleased-and-almost-smug smile at the reporters from the Daily Prophet, Quibbler, and the partisan magazines who dutifully wrote about the proceedings at these events even if they did not draw large crowds. The crowd today was, indeed, on the small side of average.
After the town hall began, Tom scanned the sea of hands. Not everyone present had a question; some were there to listen or to support someone who was asking him something. Tom's sharp eyes quickly fixed upon a very angry-looking wizard who, like a few others, was waving his hand in the air back and forth. Yes, this man looked the most put out of anyone, so it was best to get his complaint out of the way first rather than ending the town hall on what could be a negative note. Tom pointed to the man.
He cast a volume charm on his throat to make his voice louder as he spoke. "Minister," the wizard growled, "I am here to ask just what is the status of the hunt for the filthy werewolf calling himself Greyback. I would say 'manhunt,' except he's a beast," the questioner muttered.
Tom scowled for a fraction of a second before forcing his face to look normal again. "Thank you for the question. What is your name?" he asked mildly.
"Lyall Lupin. I work at the Ministry, in fact, and I can't get a straight answer out of anyone! Are the Aurors even looking for the creature anymore?"
It would figure that this was the man's question. This was a sore point to Tom. The Aurors were investigating, and had been investigating and searching for Greyback for years. Tom did not blame them for the lack of progress; the werewolf was fiendishly hard to catch. Hermione had told him that this would have been true in the alternate timeline as well… and that was what irked him especially. They knew that this was a problem, and yet that knowledge had been useless.
"Mr. Lupin, the Aurors have an ongoing search for the werewolf calling himself Greyback. It has never stopped, even when they have been called upon for serious international matters involving the Statute of Secrecy. Unfortunately, the werewolf in question has chosen to live on the fringes of society. We think that he lives as a recluse, in the middle of the woods somewhere, far from wizards and probably even Muggles—except, of course, when it is a full moon. He is difficult to track, but rest assured that the Aurors are not going to rest until he is captured."
The explanation did not even satisfy Tom as he said it, and it certainly did not satisfy Lupin. The wizard's face grew pinched in anger. "Captured?" he sneered. "Captured? Minister, why not kill the creature?"
"In fact, I have authorized the Aurors to use lethal force against Greyback when they do track him down, if it should be necessary to save themselves or others who may be on the scene." Tom gazed at the wizard evenly.
"That's what I think should be done to all werewolves," the wizard declared. "None of this 'Wolfsbane Potion' nonsense. They're like rabid beasts. Just kill them all and eliminate the threat." Around him, several people gasped, whether because they considered that shocking and evil, or because they could not believe someone would tell the Minister to his face that a potion his own wife had (purportedly) invented was "nonsense."
Tom stared him down. This was quite enough, and he was not going to engage in further debate with this one individual who clearly had a fixation with this issue. Perhaps, Tom mused, it was because of the man's name. Maybe people assumed he was a werewolf because of that surname, and treated him as such, and that was why he hated them so intensely. Merlin knew that Tom himself had gone through a phase in his early teens of hating "Mudbloods" because everyone assumed that about him due to his name.
"The Wolfsbane Potion has enabled werewolves to live normal lives," Tom said. "That 'eliminates the threat' if they take it properly, as the law has required for over a decade. During the full moon, they become wolves with sane, normal human minds—wolf Animagi, essentially. People who want to live as people, to keep those around them safe, don't deserve to be punished for a responsible choice—least of all executed. That is not on the table, Mr. Lupin," he added as the wizard grew red in the face. "Greyback, on the other hand, has deliberately chosen to be a criminal. He will be treated as one when the Aurors corner him." Tom pointed to a witch whose hand was up. "Next question?"
The wizard, Lupin, left the crowd in a huff and did not attend the rest of the town hall. Tom was rather relieved. The drama had so far been rather outsized for such a small crowd.
Hermione bustled into the Atrium of the Ministry with eight-year-old Virgil and four-year-old Cynthia in tow. Madeline was, of course, at Hogwarts now. She had been placed in Slytherin, just as her parents had long suspected, and she was doing very well at school. She was enjoying it, too, with the sole exception of being deeply disappointed that she did not immediately make the Slytherin Quidditch team. It wasn't her fault, Slughorn had written to her and Tom in an obsequious, apologetic way—even though he'd had nothing to do with the selection of the players. This particular year, they had a really exceptional crop of Chasers, and Madeline was the alternate, at least. She would probably get to play a game or two this year, and she would almost certainly make it next year, since one of the current ones was a seventh-year and would be gone. In fact, Hermione thought, rumor had it that the fellow might be accepted onto a professional team as soon as January, in which case Madeline would automatically take his place….
"Dad," Virgil said as Tom strode away from the gaggle of cronies with whom he was idly conversing.
Tom smiled at his family and ushered them away from his cronies so that the latter couldn't hear what he said privately. Hermione hoped that whatever he wanted to say, it didn't take long. They were supposed to eat dinner in Diagon Alley, and the children were hungry.
"How was the town hall?" she inquired.
Tom rolled his eyes. "There was a troublemaker, but I picked him out at once and made him go first, so it ended on a better note. He was dissatisfied with the pace of the Greyback search and thought that werewolves should be killed on sight—all of them."
Hermione scowled. "That's not going to happen."
"That's what I told him. But other than that, it went all right. These sessions were a good idea," he remarked. "They let me hear about what's on people's minds directly from the source, instead of whatever sort of lag there may be if I have to get it from the newspaper or some of my people." He smirked. "I can act faster that way and avert problems early."
Hermione chuckled lightly. He really was a good Minister for Magic, she thought affectionately. She didn't always agree with everything he did—or how he did it—but he was very good at this, and it was good for Wizarding Britain and for him that he had channeled his drive for power this way.
He had not attempted to use the pre-existing blood-purity ideology and "old families" political network for his own purposes, because it would have meant that he would have been beholden to the money, power, and beliefs of his supporters—as would have happened if he had become Voldemort. Instead he had developed and created his own political network, with an intellectually coherent and morally defensible ideology that he had modified from the failed Wizarding Supremacism of Grindelwald, and a power structure in which he was unequivocally the one in charge. There were differences of opinion in his own party, but he tolerated that because he knew that if he tried to control his people too much, he would lose control. His apparent tolerance for mild dissent—among his partisans and his allies in the other two factions—had resulted in his seat as Minister for Magic being very secure indeed after five years.
The one fly in the ointment was Dumbledore. He did have the ability to make life difficult for them… but Hermione did not think he would do it. For one thing, all he had were suspicions. There was no proof like there had been in the old timeline. Dumbledore had never laid hands on Tom's diary, and he was never going to. Tom was not going around looking for potentially deadly duels to fight; perhaps he'd finally had enough of that after being "killed" twice and having to take drastic measures to silence witnesses both times. Besides, bringing that particular secret into the public domain would do far worse damage to Tom than simply costing him his job, and the damage would not be limited to Tom alone. Hermione knew Dumbledore didn't want that.
The Minister's daily delivery of press clippings was dropped on his desk by a charm. Tom opened the bundle and quickly scanned the articles. In the few days since Lyall Lupin had brought a spark of drama to the town hall meeting, the headline-hungry journalists and ambitious politicians had kicked up a flurry of political dust over lycanthropy matters. The specific concerns that each publication had depended on its nature.
"Minister Riddle Reassures Wizarding Public That Greyback Hunt Is Closing In," announced The Ouroboros. The Daily Prophet had a more skeptical take on that matter: "Ministry Still Claims Greyback Search On Track."
Tom did not enjoy reading the other two partisan magazines, but he understood the importance of knowing what one's adversaries were saying and thinking. The years-long hunt for Greyback was not their top concern.
"Monsters Roam Free While Sipping Potion Invented by Minister's Wife," shouted The Sentry, the Isolationist magazine. Tom's gaze tightened in anger, and he involuntarily gripped his wand tighter, as he read this piece. The article, by former Daily Prophet editorial board member Vasile Yaxley, was full of innuendo and vitriol. The main implication was that the Ministry was engaged in a cover-up about Wolfsbane Potion and that it did not really work, but rather, that Tom was allowing killers to prey on the wizarding public, blaming the attacks on the convenient bogeyman of Fenrir Greyback, while Hermione personally profited from sales of the potion. It was completely false; although Advance did hold the patent on the formula, Hermione herself refused all royalties on it. Somehow the slime had got hold of personal information about Catriona Dagworth, as well, making sleazy jibes about her sexuality. Hermione will not like that a bit, Tom reflected. She believes this woman is a blood relative of hers, and it's probably true… and she's cultivated her for years. The woman may be Potions Research Director, but Hermione still will not like the fact that this rag has made a private citizen's living arrangement the business of Wizarding Britain.
"Minister Refuses to Consider Nondiscrimination Laws for Lycanthropy Victims," blared New Camelot, the Reformist rag. It was true that Tom had instantly cut down that proposal when someone raised it in the Wizengamot. In his honest opinion, no one should be forced to hire a werewolf if they had concerns; the safety of such a person was entirely dependent on the Wolfsbane Potion. If a werewolf missed a dose, the potion would not be fully effective, and the person would pose a threat during the full moon. Tom was not going to have bans on werewolves living and working in the wizarding world inscribed in law, which was what Hermione had told him was the situation in her old life, but neither was he going to force people to take them on. He scoffed at this magazine but was not as outraged by it; nothing it had said was actually a lie. It was just skewed and slanted, and in Tom's opinion, it had its priorities out of order.
He decided he could safely ignore The Sentry and New Camelot. Still, the search for Greyback did need to produce some results. The majority of the Aurors were working on it, since they were in the Minister's office, not at the beck and call of Caspar Crouch, and that bureaucrat had had to hire more people to the Magical Law Enforcement Squad for apprehending low-level criminals. Tom was pleased about that, at least. Aurors were specially trained elites in their field and should not be sent to arrest fool pranksters or harass law-abiding Dark wizards. Tom had never wanted to become an Auror, but he did respect them, and he was not going to let Ministry bureaucrats waste their skills—not just as powerful wizards, but as shrewd and intelligent detectives.
The search was closing in. His chief Auror, Anne-Claire Abbott, had given him a status update a day ago. They believed that the werewolf was lurking around the east part of the country, where several wizarding families with children had settled. The full moon was approaching, and Tom had directed the Aurors to tip off the parents in that area about the likely danger so that they would keep their children indoors. He was even considering having them create a distraction that would keep the Muggle children in the area inside their homes. The last thing that Tom needed was for a Muggle child to be contaminated with lycanthropy. Such a child would no longer be allowed to remain in the Muggle world, as a security breach, but the child would not be able to do magic and would have no family connection to the wizarding one. Perhaps a "gas leak" to evacuate the area….
Tom absolutely intended that Greyback would be captured at last during this full moon, and his Aurors were assuring him that it was possible. Who knew how long it might have taken to find Greyback if the Aurors were spread thin in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, sent about the country to do tasks that other employees of the department ought to be doing? …Well, Hermione knew, he reflected. Greyback would have continued his campaign of terror for decades in that scenario, and to his eternal bemusement, he would have encouraged it. How could I have kept blood-purist followers on my side while also enlisting werewolves, since they think lycanthropy is an impurity of blood? Just how stupid are these people?
The raving conspiracy article of The Sentry answered his unspoken question.
That evening, Hermione fumed at the article in The Sentry. "Catriona has not tried to keep secret that she's lived for years with Lila Brynolf," she said to Tom in the family sitting room. "She's never asserted that they are 'friends' or 'roommates.' But she isn't Minister… she's not a Department Head at the Ministry… she's not even one of my vice presidents at the organization. She is a Potions researcher. It's not acceptable for a journalist to pillory a private citizen like this. The rise of partisan magazines has been a bad thing for the wizarding world."
"The Ouroboros is all right," Tom said.
Hermione gave him a squint-eyed, level gaze. "The Ouroboros doesn't have to sling mud, because you are popular and you have no charismatic, powerful opponents for it to tear down. I assure you, it would do the same thing if there were any. And to think I used to think the Daily Prophet had no standards." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she remembered the extremely personal attacks of Rita Skeeter on another private citizen, Arthur Weasley, in her old time… but such things no longer came to her mind immediately.
Tom did not take the bait. "Well, I just thought you should know about it. You went to your museum office today, rather than Advance, and in any case, I don't know if they bring you these rags."
"I get the Prophet, the Quibbler, Witch Weekly, Wizarding Britain Weekly, any monthly or quarterly editions of research journals, and all three partisan magazines—but only at the Advance office, it's true." She crossed the large room to where Virgil and Cynthia were reading. The little girl was getting visibly drowsy. Hermione gently pulled her away from her picture book and carried her across the room.
"I'm not sleepy, Mum," she protested through a yawn.
"Yes, you are," Hermione said gently but firmly. "You've had a long day."
"I want an ashwinder…." The book that she had been examining was open to a page about the magical fire-dwelling snake.
"I'm afraid you're too young, sweetheart. It's difficult to care for. Perhaps someday."
Cynthia yawned again but did not protest. She was falling asleep. Virgil hesitated but followed his mother and sister.
"What about the New Camelot article?" Hermione said once she was seated again, her child leaning against her sleepily. "You won't like this, but I think it has some valid points. Werewolves must take Wolfsbane Potion now, and the Ministry conducts random checks to ensure it."
Tom shook his head. "They could still miss people. We don't have the resources to do a test of every known werewolf every night to make sure the potion is in their system."
"There is no advantage to a werewolf in missing a dose. They have every reason, not just legally, but personally, to follow the regimen."
"But if they haven't followed the law—if they miss the Wolfsbane Potion at all—there can be dire consequences. Hermione, there is a substantial part of the wizarding population that wants the right to discriminate by blood status. The entire Isolationist faction, even Orion Black, opposed that nondiscrimination law in the Wizengamot, and the only risk with that is if security protocols aren't followed with non-magical family members. There is no special risk from the witches and wizards themselves. The same cannot be said of werewolves."
A few months ago, Tom's party had allied with the Reformists to pass a sweeping law to protect wizards and witches from blood-status discrimination in employment, housing, public services, and business transactions.
"The problem is that Greyback is still at large," Tom continued. "He's out there, he's threatening children, and people like that Lupin fellow don't like it. He needs to be apprehended—or removed entirely—and I think it's going to happen."
Virgil spoke up. "Is Madeline going to be all right?" he asked his parents. "If the werewolf wants to bite children, wouldn't he go to Hogwarts?"
Hermione spoke up at once. "Madeline is perfectly safe," she reassured him. "Greyback might go to Hogwarts if he thought he stood a chance of entering the school, but he doesn't. There are wards on every entrance and they don't allow people in unless they know who they are and what they are doing there. Students aren't allowed to roam the grounds at night… nor are they allowed into the Forbidden Forest, even when there is no full moon."
"And Professor Slughorn and Professor Dumbledore are there," he mused to himself.
"Yes," she said emphatically. "They are. Now, do you think they would let a criminal who wants to attack children near their students?"
Tom cast his gaze down, not wanting to let his son see the skepticism and disdain in his face. Hermione was grateful that he did, because as she remembered, Dumbledore would have allowed precisely that in another world. Severus Snape's last memories from that other world were still burned into her mind, and Dumbledore—that Dumbledore—would have anticipated Greyback's presence at the school and commented about it to Snape only so far as it could have affected his own suffering during his death. She hoped he was different this time, but Virgil did not need to know any of this.
"The werewolf is not going to be anywhere close to Hogwarts," Tom added. "He's going to be in an entirely different part of Britain… and the Aurors mean to catch him."
Virgil seemed to accept this.
After Virgil and Cynthia were in bed, Hermione remarked to Tom, "I hope they do catch him. There are people who are now alive today who… will be strongly affected… if he isn't caught." It was very strange to think of the Marauder cohort. She had checked: James Potter, Sirius Black, Lily Evans, Peter Pettigrew, Severus Snape, and most critically, Remus Lupin had all been born on schedule. The changes that she had effected to the timeline had not prevented that. Hermione wondered if the birth of a witch or wizard, the existence of a new soul in the world, was such a significant event that it was hard to erase accidentally even by a time-traveler…. In any case, the people whose names—or who, themselves—she knew so well were now toddlers. She really did not want Remus to be turned into a werewolf this time. He would suffer so much, and it would blight his life. Even with Wolfsbane Potion, his prospects would be limited… especially if Tom did not relent on the lycanthropy nondiscrimination law. Catriona Dagworth's partner was a magical historian, impeccably educated and intelligent. She did not even want to work regularly with people, but she still had had difficulty finding work.
"According to what you told me, that child wouldn't have been infected for a few more years," Tom said. "I really do intend for the Aurors to get him this month. Nothing else has been going wrong… no problems abroad for them to handle, no organized crime here. Greyback is the most dangerous problem facing Wizarding Britain, they have dedicated most of their resources to finding him, and I think they've got him now. Enough is enough."
"I hope they have, then." Hermione could not explain why she thought it, but she had a foreboding feeling in her bones about this operation.
On the day of the full moon, Hermione, fittingly yet ironically enough, had an important update from Catriona Dagworth herself: The potions research division, in conjunction with the relatively new Dark Arts division, had been developing an experimental potion to cure spattergroit. The principal ingredient was a blood sample from a person who had survived the illness. Because it involved blood magic and was thought to draw from the will power of the survivor and the death of the disease-causing fungus in the blood, the potion was classified as Dark—but Hermione, with her layman's knowledge of Muggle medicine, realized that it used very similar techniques to vaccinations. That was food for thought. Perhaps Tom was right that the potential of Dark Magic was largely untapped, since it had for so long been heavily restricted and therefore used by people who sought to cause harm….
The public relations officer of the organization had worked out an arrangement with a patient at St. Mungo's Hospital who had consented to experimental treatment with it and would not mind being the first public test subject. Hermione herself was going to the hospital to meet the wizard, along with Catriona and the Vice President of Research. That day, she had Virgil and Cynthia sent to Tom's office instead of her own. It would be a good idea for them to see what their father did at work occasionally. He would bring them home that evening.
Hermione regretted the timing of the event. Catriona would be away from her partner during the full moon. "You don't have to come if you would rather stay with her," Hermione said privately to her employee that afternoon. "Someone else could substitute."
Catriona shook her head. "I feel bad for saying it, but I'm actually relieved. The full moon is always awkward and uncomfortable for us. She transforms into a wolf, and even though she keeps her mind, it's just not a pleasant time. She wants to keep to herself while transformed. I think even now, she's ashamed of being seen that way—even by me." She gave Hermione a sad smile. "And after that vile article in the blood-supremacist rag, I just want to be seen in public at these kinds of events. It's a sort of defiance."
"That is why you were Sorted into Gryffindor," Hermione said kindly. "Although no one except Isolationist radicals would think you were hiding. But since you do want to be there, you're obviously welcome… I just wanted you to know that you didn't have to if you didn't want to."
Catriona smiled again and turned to the supply of potion. The patient was not expected to recover immediately; it would require about a week of treatment, but if this worked, then it would be a breakthrough. The shatter-proof bottle of gleaming red potion sparkled in the light.
"I wish it were a different color," Catriona remarked. "People are more wary of Dark magic when it looks 'dodgy' in some way, and it'll be widely reported that this potion contains human blood and that is what makes it work… even though it's far from the top ingredient by volume."
"That may be true… but I think they'll adjust. It supposedly doesn't taste like blood, at least."
"It tastes floral, oddly enough. I hope our patient doesn't mind that."
Chief Auror Anne-Claire Abbott and her deputy, a male Auror in early middle age named Alastor Moody, stood guard in rural Essex in the tiny wizarding enclave where they expected the werewolf Greyback to make his appearance. Moody shot a cynical look at his boss.
"Watch the bastard turn up somewhere else, after all this."
Abbott frowned disapprovingly. "The reports indicated an unknown source of magic and sightings of a shabby, sinister-looking wizard here."
"He's a sly one," Moody muttered. "And utterly despicable to target children, of course. The rumor has it that he doesn't just turn them—he tries to recruit them into his 'pack' and…." He trailed off, the implication apparently too appalling even for a seasoned Auror to voice.
"They don't have to turn to the individual who victimized them for 'protection' now that we have the Wolfsbane Potion."
Moody forked an eye at Abbott. "Which is exactly why he's so desperate."
"Well, his reign of terror ends tonight, one way or another."
Moody's sharp gaze suddenly darted away from Abbott and toward a distant cottage silhouetted by the deep blue of the moonlit sky. "What in the hell—who are those people? They're outside!"
Abbott's gaze shot toward the cottage. Sure enough, two figures—one tall and one rather short—were moving about in the darkness, illuminated by a single lantern that the taller figure was holding. In his other hand, he held a long object that was clearly a wand.
The two Aurors, along with all their subordinates, prepared to Apparate to the edge of the property and tell the wizard and his child to get indoors. As they vanished into the ether of Apparition in a series of pops, they did not see a third figure, a bestial figure, emerge from the grove of trees and bound toward the people.
The magical research reporter at the Daily Prophet snapped a final moving photograph of the Advance Organization's president, vice president of research, Potions director, and Controlled Dark Arts director as the Potions director proudly held a bottle of glistening red potion. The spattergroit patient—a cerebrumous spattergroit patient, to boot, located in the permanent resident ward for memory damage from the disease—was not identified, nor was the actual administration of the potion photographed, for privacy reasons.
"The theory is that seven days' doses of this potion will cure the disease," Hermione explained to the reporter.
"Are there Arithmantic reasons for that specific number?" the reporter asked.
Hermione suppressed a smile that only she would understand. "Yes, that is part of the theoretical basis."
"The patient suffered from memory loss. Do you think that he'll recover that part?"
Hermione turned to her employees. Catriona spoke up. "We are not sure how much recovery of memory there will be, but this potion was made with a blood sample from someone who did not have that form of the disease—whose brain showed resiliency to it—so we believe that there will be some positive effect on our patient's brain because of that residual magic."
"And if this cure could be manufactured on a grand scale," the reporter continued, "it won't require the donation of hazardous amounts of blood, will it?"
"Certainly not," Hermione said firmly. "We would not consider it if there were ethical concerns such as that. A very small amount of blood, a vial at most, can be increased to some degree—and with every patient who is cured, there is a new source, provided that that person permits a small amount of blood to be taken. Although we do encourage voluntary donation if the cure works as we expect, this hospital has stringent guidelines and will not do such a thing without the written and magically sealed permission of a patient."
The reporter was taking this down when a flurry of activity suddenly disrupted the stolid hospital admissions room. A trio of bloodied stretchers, two with adults and one with a child, were wheeled past the bewildered Advance Organization and Daily Prophet personnel. For a fraction of a second, Hermione wondered what disaster had befallen, and then a horrible fear entered her mind when Alastor Moody and Tom appeared, looking grim and miserable. Tom met Hermione's eyes and gave her a pointed look that indicated that he wanted to speak to her in private.
"Excuse me," Hermione said as politely as she could manage to the reporter. "My husband needs to speak with me. My vice president and directors can take any additional questions you may have, I'm certain." She flashed a smile on her face as she left the group.
An employee of the hospital ushered the Minister, Hermione, and the Auror into a small private room that—based on how it was outfitted—appeared to be normally used for grieving, contemplation, or prayer. Tom locked the door, cast Muffliato, and looked to Moody to explain.
Hermione swallowed hard. Despite the fact that she had spent more of her life in this time than in her old, it was still odd to interact with people that she would have known in a different capacity in the alternate timeline. Moody had not lost his eye and therefore was not known as "Mad-Eye"; Hermione wondered if that would happen in this timeline. It very well might not. For his sake, she hoped it didn't.
"Mrs. Riddle," Moody began gruffly, "I have good news and bad news. The Minister has been told already."
Hermione held up her hand. "Excuse me for a moment, Auror Moody." She turned to Tom. "Where are Virgil and Cynthia?"
"I left them at the Rosiers' when I got the message about the Greyback raid," Tom said grimly. "They will learn about this later, but they don't need to hear this while it's ongoing."
"All right." She turned to Moody again. "Please continue."
"Well. The good news is that we successfully removed Greyback."
"'Removed'?" Hermione asked. "Alive or dead?"
"Dead, I'm afraid. My boss and I hoped to take him alive, to question him…."
"Where is your boss?" Hermione asked, suddenly noting the fact that Chief Auror Abbott was not giving the report. A fear entered her mind as she recalled the three bloody stretchers….
Moody grimaced. "She was on one of those stretchers."
Hermione closed her eyes. She had known Chief Auror Abbott. She had admired the woman greatly, as a witch who worked for a wizard widely acknowledged to be appealing and had not a care in the world for that fact, because her own integrity—her utter dedication to her Auror duties—was impeccable. In fact, rumor around the Ministry was that Abbott and the Head of the Department of Mysteries, Griffith Diggory, were close to being an item. And now—
"So Greyback attacked her," Hermione said unhappily.
Moody nodded. "There was an idiot wizard walking with his little toddler son in their backyard, and Greyback pounced on the sprog. We saw them walking around from a distance, but the attack happened while we were Apparating to their property. She intervened and he attacked her. I had no choice but to kill him. His filthy jaws were locked onto her wrist."
A horrible suspicion entered Hermione's mind. "What wizard? Who were they?"
"Some family named Lupin. The father and the child were both attacked."
Hermione sank to the floor, burying her head in her hands. I failed, she thought miserably. I knew what could happen, I had the power to prevent it, and Remus still got infected with lycanthropy.
Moody glanced at Tom uneasily. "Is she going to be all right?"
Tom sighed. "She's very sensitive about harm done to children. So am I, for that matter." He knew the truth, but it would not do to tell Moody.
Hermione raised her head and gazed wearily at the Auror. "Are they all going to live, at least?" she croaked.
"Should. The wizard was pretty bloodied, and he'll be scarred… but there's something else you should know, Mrs. Riddle. The Minister does know."
Hermione rose to her feet wobbily.
"I… don't actually know if Auror Abbott will be a werewolf."
"But Greyback bit her while he was transformed. How can there be any doubt?"
"She was… cutting off her own hand as I killed him," Moody said grimly. "Actually, more than hand. She cut off her forearm up to the elbow with a violent curse. I had no idea she knew that sort of Dark magic."
Hermione blanched. What a horrific gamble, she thought. If it works, then she will have one human hand for the rest of her life, since it was a Dark curse. If it doesn't work, she'll be a werewolf, but she will still be missing a hand.
"And… the Lupins?" she asked painfully. "They're expected to recover? From the wounds, at least?"
Moody nodded. "For whatever it's worth. Shame about the kid. I hope it doesn't cause problems, since the old man was the one who raised hell in that town hall recently." He turned to Tom. "Minister, you must realize that I'm not interested in politics, but it would offend me if certain people claimed that the Aurors—working in the Office of the Minister—let the Lupins be attacked on purpose."
"It would offend me too," Tom managed, "and on your behalf. You are professionals."
Moody nodded. "If it comes up, I will explain exactly what happened, and once she is recovered, I'm sure my boss will too."
"For however much longer she remains your boss," Tom said grimly. "I don't know how well the public would react to a werewolf as Chief Auror, even with the Wolfsbane Potion. Not well, I'm guessing," he said with heavy irony.
"She may not be a werewolf. She cast a Dark curse based on the one you invented, the healing spell. It might have worked."
Hermione sighed. What a disaster this had been. The one event that she had most hoped to change—other than the rise of Voldemort and events directly connected to it, such as the deaths of the Potters and other victims of the Death Eaters—had been Fenrir Greyback's attack on Remus Lupin. She had succeeded at changing Tom's destiny, but she had not changed Remus's.
Hermione and Tom Apparated to the Rosiers' to pick up Virgil and Cynthia, and then the family went home. The children—Virgil especially, since he was older—were very upset. Even though they did not understand everything that had happened, they understood that a werewolf had attacked a little boy. Even four-year-old Cynthia understood that, and it was traumatizing for her—perhaps especially for a child who likes learning about magical creatures, Hermione thought unhappily. She hoped her daughter's interest in Magizoology would not disappear over this.
She put them to bed, but not before reassuring them that their older sister was safe and sound at Hogwarts and that the werewolf who had targeted children was finally dead. This seemed to relieve them to some extent. She left the magical nightlights on for them and descended the stairs to join Tom in the master bedroom.
"Hermione," he said with more tenderness and kindness than she had heard in a while, "I know this upsets you, but it isn't your fault. You must not blame yourself."
Hermione sighed. "I know… but it does upset me. Being a werewolf blighted Remus Lupin's life in the other timeline. I'm terrified that it will now too."
"Things are different, though. He will take the Wolfsbane Potion, which means that his transformations won't be painful and he won't be a danger to others… nor will his father." Tom cocked his head at her. "Was his father infected too?"
"I don't think so."
"Well, that's also different, then. He won't grow up as the only werewolf he knows. And frankly," he said with a hint of savageness in his voice, "perhaps elder Lupin will be changed for the better now."
Hermione shook her head. "This is a terrible price to pay."
Tom could not disagree.
After a week at St. Mungo's, the Healers discharged the final victims of Fenrir Greyback. Lyall and Remus Lupin were infected with lycanthropy, but were duly registered as werewolves—much to the elder's dismay, though Hermione hoped that would lessen in time—and sent home with a supply of Catriona Dagworth's safe formula of Wolfsbane Potion. At the family's request, the attack would be kept very quiet in the press. The only reporting would be that the scourge was at last killed—though an Auror tragically was attacked in the course of the operation.
Anne-Claire Abbott was not infected, much to Hermione's surprise—and, if they were honest, to Tom's and Alastor Moody's as well. When she had cast the Dark curse that tore through and cauterized her arm at the elbow, she had isolated the infection before it had spread too far. The Healers and medi-magic researchers who examined the severed limb urged the media that this method was not infallible or recommended, because time was of the essence—the infection spread through the blood, and Abbott had simply been quick enough to amputate the infected part before it could spread too far—but that, in this case, her "battlefield amputation" had been effective at preventing lycanthropy infection in her body.
She had resigned her post upon being discharged from the hospital, turning over her position as Chief Auror to Alastor Moody.
"You are welcome to remain if you wish," Tom had urged her, but she had been adamant.
"I will stay as an Auror," she said, "but the Chief Auror should be someone whose fighting capability isn't compromised. I can get an artificial forearm, but it won't be as fast as my natural one. Even if it wasn't my wand hand, it's still a handicap. Alastor should be the head of the division. He'll be a fine one."
Tom knew already from Hermione's narratives of the alternate universe that that was true indeed.
That night, in bed, Hermione was still thinking aloud about what had transpired. Tom understood that these events had special significance to her due to the fact that she would have known so many of these people, and their friends—and children—in other capacities, so he let her talk it out.
"I still wish he had not been infected," she said. "He'll suffer from discrimination—but hopefully it won't be as bad, now that a true menace like Greyback is dead and no longer giving all werewolves a bad name, and people like Catriona's partner Lila are living normal lives, and the Wolfsbane Potion exists. And I suppose at least this means that some things will play out similarly. Remus's friends would have become Animagi in order to spend full moons with him as animals. He'll still be a wolf, so maybe there will still be a motivation. A motivation without the associated danger." She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "At least they'll be friends. That will be unchanged. They'll still be the Marauders. It is very important to me that my old friends be born… even if I won't be in their lives as a friend this time."
Tom did not respond to that. Hermione might have assumed that he had lapsed into the sort of silence that fell when one did not need to respond, but this felt different. There was something he was not saying, something important. "Tom?" she asked.
He rubbed his own eyes. "Hermione, unless there is some temporal magic that acts as a 'master of fate' to prevent it, 'you' will be born in 1979."
Hermione looked queasy. "That can't happen," she burst out. "It can't! 'She' would be named Granger, but she'd look just like me, and I'm still too well-known for—"
He took her in his arms and held her just far enough apart from himself that they could look each other in the eye. "I agree completely," he said. "I don't want there to be another 'you' out there. You are the only Hermione I want. I have thought about this for a long time, Hermione, but I was waiting for the right time to ask you—and I think this is it."
She waited for him to say, though she had an inkling that she knew the basic substance.
"It's still many years away… but in late 1978 and early 1979, I could go to your parents' home in secret… and slip them 'the potion' just to make sure. If you want me to."
He was asking her permission. This was, needless to say, an immense change, and a request of such a personal nature that he had better ask her—but he had. He had done so without prompting. He had not even suggested it to her until now.
She thought of her parents wistfully. They would not know her now, not at all—but that had been her decision, all the way back in alternate 1997. She had erased their memories of her. She had made the choice herself to end the relationship—for all she had known at the time, permanently. Was there any reality in which they could have been reconciled? If they had won the war without the horrific losses that necessitated Fawkes's intervention that dark day, she might, perhaps, have been able to retrieve them and restore some of their memories—but could they ever have forgiven her for what she had done? If she had been a non-magical person and her own child had altered her memory like that without her knowledge or consent, she would have found it extremely difficult to forgive.
Her parents had been lost to her by her own hand. She might as well let go now. She had a family now, wonderful children and a partner whom she never would have imagined as such until some strange events transpired in 1944 and 1945 to make him incalculably precious to her. This was her family now. Her blood parents might have another child. Perhaps that child would even be a wizard or witch—a brother or sister in another universe.
Harry would be born. His father would be an Animagus, as would his godfather. Perhaps even his mother would, with extra years to learn the skill. Remus would become a wolf with a mostly human mind on the full moon and would not menace Severus Snape at Sirius Black's immature behest. I wonder now if Lily Evans will choose James Potter at all, she thought anxiously—but then she remembered the overall tone of the memories of Severus Snape's that she had viewed years ago. Lily had been friends with Snape, but had not been attracted to him. That would play out unchanged.
She turned to Tom and nodded. "It's for the best."
End Notes: The Lupin back story is another thing I have some issues with. I don't like the idea of a parent's bigotry being punished by the child, and child alone, being infected with a terrible condition… and really, of all the forms of bigotry in the canonical Potterverse, prejudice against werewolves before the development of Wolfsbane Potion is the most readily justifiable kind. Lycanthropy is dangerous, and the pre-Wolfsbane viewpoint in canon that werewolves can be safely contained is resoundingly proven false by the escapades of the Marauders and particularly the shabby trick they play on Snape. In this AU, I've made the situation rather different: Lycanthropy can be safely managed if werewolves take their potion, which Tom's law requires (and the potion isn't toxic anymore), so Lupin Sr.'s viewpoint is not defensible.
I considered not having Remus infected in this AU, but I think that would endanger too many relationships that ultimately lead to Harry's existence. Hermione would angst about it either way.