"It seems likely that Woolsey's pack will attack some prominent target in their wolf forms on the full moon, Tuesday, November twenty-seventh," Tom told the assembled werewolves. "The full moon rises over London at 3:59 pm and sets at 9:10 am on the twenty-eighth. That's a lot of time. A werewolf attack would be a public relations disaster, undoing much of the good Kettleburn's book has done. We must stop them. I'm open to suggestions as to how." He sat down at the long table again and looked around expectantly.
Hermione spoke first, for Harrier's growl didn't really count as speech. "I've already tried to track Woolsey by conventional methods, to no avail. His pack has left their last known location, with no indication of where they went. Owls can't reach him. A Point-Me spell just spins. We need more ideas."
"I understand that you can sense your fellow werewolves," said Tom.
"Yes," said Ignis, "but only at close range, a few yards at most. That's not very useful when they could be anywhere."
"So where would they be on the full moon?" asked Tom. "If you wanted to incite the maximum amount of fear in magical Britain, where would you attack?" He dipped a quill in ink. "Let's make a list of possibilities."
"Someplace crowded," said Harrier. "Diagon Alley?"
Tom wrote that down. "Good. Where else?"
"Knockturn Alley," said Brownwing.
"The Ministry of Magic," said Briar.
"St. Mungo's," said Daisy. "People expect to feel safe there."
"Hogwarts," said Eric.
"They couldn't attack Hogwarts," said Pennyroyal, affronted.
"We're just gathering ideas," said Tom, writing down Hogwarts.
"Hogsmeade," said Bramble.
"Other wizarding districts," said Pennyroyal, "like Godric's Hollow, Tinworth, Upper Flagley, Ottery St. Catchpole…"
"Orncrag, do you think?" Daisy asked Ignis.
"I'd like to see wolves try to run around on those cliff faces," said Ignis with bravado. With considerably less bravado, he added, "Write it down anyway. They might target it because of me."
Tom had already written it down.
"Little Hangleton, too," said Ignis.
Tom willed his reluctant hand to write that. He looked over the list. "This is all assuming they intend to target only wizarding areas, not muggle ones. If they want to wreak havoc by violating the Statute of Secrecy, their potential targets would form a much longer list."
"Bloody hell," muttered Bramble.
"But let's not worry about that," said Tom. "They attacked wizarding areas twice already. Predictability is their weakness. We can take advantage of that. I propose that we monitor potential targets the day before the full moon, to detect gatherings of werewolves. Once we know where they'll attack, we'll do what we can to stop them."
"And that is?" asked Pennyroyal.
"I'm not volunteering to confront them in person," said Tom. "But for those already infected with lycanthropy, the risk is less…" He trailed off at the expressions on his audience's faces.
"Wolfsbane makes us awfully clumsy in our wolf forms," objected Briar.
"We're practicing," Bramble cleared his throat, "walking on four legs and so on, but our wolf bodies feel very unnatural to our human minds. We trip over our own feet. We'd be useless in a fight. Maybe we'll get better with enough practice, but you're thinking of the next full moon?"
"Never mind," said Tom. "Thank you for explaining. So. It will be up to those of us who keep our human forms."
"I could fly overhead," volunteered Hermione. "It should be safe, especially under an invisibility cloak. I'm limited in what I could do from up there, though. I could charm inanimate objects to trap or crush werewolves, and cast shields around potential victims."
"That's some tricky spell work to aim from a flying broom," said Eric.
"Well, yes," said Hermione. "Do you have a better idea?"
"Would a muggle gun be useful?" Tom wondered aloud.
"I don't know how to handle a gun," said Hermione. "That would take practice, especially from a broom. My aim would be better with a wand."
"I wasn't proposing that you would be the one shooting," said Tom.
"Are you a good shot?" asked Hermione.
"Well, not particularly, but—"
"Let's keep this meeting efficient, shall we?" said Hermione. "Here's the plan. We'll divide the potentially targeted territories up and all the werewolves here will search their assigned sections for suspiciously high concentrations of werewolves gathering before moonrise. If you find them, don't engage! You'll be outnumbered. Just get out of there. I'll give communication mirrors and emergency Portkeys to any of you who don't already have them. Just Apparate to whatever safe place you normally transform in, or use your Portkey if they've tried to trap you with an anti-Apparition ward. Once you're safe, give me a mirror-call. I'll take it from there."
"Take it where?" asked Eric.
"And of course if you don't find Woolsey's pack, make sure you leave in plenty of time to avoid being in a public place at moonrise," said Tom. "Once you're done searching, mirror-call me to let me know you got out safely, and I'll make a note of it."
"If anyone doesn't call in before moonrise…" said Brownwing.
"That would tell us the location of Woolsey's pack as surely as a mirror-call," observed Tom. The room was silent for a moment.
Pennyroyal didn't like this plan. "So we'd be risking our lives for what? Gathering enough information so Hermione can shoot a few spells at a pack of werewolves from a safe distance?"
"Not just Hermione," said Tom. "My parents and I will do what we can, and our elf is useful."
"What if you call the Werewolf Capture Unit?" suggested Daisy. "I mean, this is their job, isn't it?"
Everyone considered that. Bramble looked to Briar expectantly.
"There should still be someone in the office at 3:59 pm," said Briar. "They tend to leave early on Friday, but this will be a Tuesday."
"How would they react to a call like that?" asked Bramble.
"I don't know," said Briar. "That's not the kind of call they usually get." He shrugged. "Might as well give them a chance, I suppose."
"Right," said Tom. "Unless anyone can think of a better plan, this is what we have. All in favor?" He raised his hand.
Hermione raised her hand, followed by Harrier, Ignis, Briar, Bramble, Daisy, Brownwing, and a reluctant Pennyroyal, leaving Eric looking around in confusion.
"Raising your hand means you support this plan," Bramble explained.
"Oh," said Eric, shooting his hand up.
—-
Hermione insisted that Tom make this Floo-call in disguise. If he was going to make a habit of this, it would be suspicious if these notices of werewolf attacks always came from the same person, or the same family, or the same Floo address. Tom came up with plausible explanations for why he would be at any of the potential targets at 3:59 on a Tuesday.
At half past three, Tom and Hermione sat in Tom's office, mirrors in hand, awaiting reports from the werewolves. Hermione had a checklist of names and locations, awaiting her quill.
Tom opened his mirror as soon as he felt it buzz.
"I haven't found any werewolves in the Forbidden Forest," reported Harrier.
"The Forbidden Forest?" repeated Hermione, peering over Tom's shoulder at his mirror.
"Well, I'm not going to try to get into Hogwarts grounds proper, and the forest seems like a good place to attack from."
"But it's so dangerous," said Hermione.
Harrier laughed. "Oh, I'm used to it. I spent a lot of time here in my school days. Anyway, it's possible they just haven't shown up yet, but I'm heading to Hogsmeade. Seems a more likely target anyway."
"Good luck," said Tom.
"Thanks."
Tom's mirror reflected his own worried face again, so he closed it and turned to Hermione, who was checking Hogwarts off the list. "You think something's too dangerous?"
"Well. It's forbidden for a reason."
"Any stories?"
"We lured a professor into it to get rid of her."
"Ah. Clever of you." His mirror buzzed again so he opened it.
A dimly-lit Brownwing peered at him. "Tom?"
"Yes. What news?"
"Well, I searched some of Godric's Hollow. Then someone must have called the Aurors, because one showed up. She said I looked suspicious, lurking around. She told me to move along. I'm home now."
"Ah." Tom was paying Brownwing enough that he could buy himself some new robes. Perhaps he needed guidance. "Well, thank you for doing what you could. Would you say you searched enough to be reasonably certain the area is safe?"
"I don't know. I mean, they could have all shown up as soon as I left."
"Right. Well. Thank you."
"I've got to get ready for the moon."
"Of course. Don't let me keep you." Tom closed his mirror.
Hermione put a check mark, followed by a question mark, by Godric's Hollow.
When Tom next opened his buzzing mirror, Ignis reported, "Upper Flagley's werewolf free. I'm searching Orncrag now."
"Thanks," said Tom. His mirror buzzed again, so he closed and opened it to see Daisy's face against a blank wall. "The waiting room at St. Mungo's is clear," she whispered.
"Good," whispered Tom.
"Sorry I took so long. Someone who'd been splinched showed up so I healed her before the healers got to her. There didn't seem to be a second to waste, with all the blood, so—"
"That's fine," said Tom. "Do you think you still have time for the Ministry of Magic? I could assign it to someone else if you—"
"No, I can do it. Sorry for wasting time. I'll go right away." She snapped her mirror shut.
Tom's was already buzzing.
Snap, open, and there was Eric, with the sound of waves crashing in the background. "No werewolves in Tinworth," he reported. "Well, besides, I mean, wait, I'm pretty sure no one's listening, but—"
"Thank you," said Tom. "I'm getting another call. Go home."
Snap, open, and Bramble reported "Diagon Alley's clear." Tom heard a crack. "Oh, and Briar just Apparated home."
Briar leaned his face into Bramble's mirror. "Knockturn Alley's clear."
"Thanks." Tom closed and opened his buzzing mirror to see Ignis's sunset-lit face, the wind whipping his shaggy auburn hair. "Nothing in Orncrag," he reported. "I'm just going to do a quick fly over Little Hangleton."
"Disillusioned, please," said Tom. "Mind the Statute." Ignis had insisted on volunteering to search three areas, and Tom hoped he had time to do them properly.
"Right."
Another snap, and there was Daisy again.
"I know," said Daisy to someone Tom couldn't see. The image in the mirror wobbled. "Sorry. Anyway, the Ministry lobby is clear. I didn't have time to check all the departments of course."
"Thank you."
Tom heard an indistinct voice in the background, then Daisy said, "I said I know!" and snapped her mirror shut.
Tom closed and opened his buzzing mirror to see Pennyroyal. "Ottery St. Catchpole seems fine," she reported. "And I found a charming little pastry shop. I'll have to come back when I have time."
"Thank you," said Tom.
"They have these little—"
"Sorry, I'm getting another call."
Another snap of Tom's mirror revealed Ignis again. "Nothing in Little Hangleton. I'm home."
"Good," said Tom.
"What news?" Ignis asked.
"I've heard from almost everyone," said Tom.
"Almost? Who—" Ignis's voice was replaced with a barking sort of cough, and the clattering noise of the mirror being dropped. "Sorry. Moon." Ignis's silver hand loomed large in the mirror for a moment, then Tom's mirror showed only his own face again.
Tom looked at the list, Hermione's quill poised over the second target by Harrier's name, awaiting a check mark that would never come: Hogsmeade. He met Hermione's eyes. They nodded to each other, no words necessary.
Tom had just grabbed the vial of Polyjuice when he heard a thud behind him. He spun to see Harrier collapsed on top of a broom on the floor of his office. "Hogsmeade!" she shouted. "Walled in with wards like—" Her next sounds were more like screams, later turning to howls.
Harrier's sufferings were worse, Tom supposed, but his own were considerable, just being in the same room as Harrier as her bones shattered, broken by the violent forces raging inside her, to recombine in a monstrous form, while her skin bristled with coarse black and grey fur. She finally lay panting through her fangs, awkwardly bound by her human clothing.
"Would you like help with that?" asked Hermione.
Harrier seemed too wrung-out by her transformation to communicate, but Hermione assisted her out of her clothing anyway, leaving the werewolf flopped on the floor. Then Hermione mounted her broom, swept her invisibility cloak over herself, and vanished with a crack.
"I'll get your message out," Tom assured Harrier, "and be back soon to arrange hospitality for you." He uncorked the vial and gulped the potion down. It tasted as horrible as advertised, but that unpleasantness was soon overwhelmed by the unpleasantness of his body changing. Hermione had told him she'd stolen a few hairs from some Great Hangleton muggle whose height and build were as similar to Tom's as she could find, to minimize Tom's clumsiness in an unfamiliar body, but of course it wasn't a perfect match. Tom felt two of his molars shrink away to nothing, and his midsection swelled and sagged in a most disturbing way. His shoes became slightly too tight, but he could tolerate that until the potion wore off.
There was something wrong with his vision; a blur in the center was, he realized with distaste, his nose. He looked in his Floo-side full-length mirror to find himself a ruddy-complexioned blond.
Tom suspected that Harrier, having recently suffered her own far more drastic transformation, would not be receptive to Tom's complaints about his, so he spared her. At least his robes still fit well enough. He'd chosen robes of a lower quality than usual, in a medieval sort of cut that didn't need to fit him precisely.
Tom extended a hand to the shimmer in the corner and felt Dobby's leathery hand grasp his. "I'm off to the Leaky Cauldron," he told Harrier, and also Dobby, who Apparated him away.
Upon arrival, Tom let go of Dobby's hand and fell to his hands and knees as if from a clumsy Apparition. "Werewolves!" he shouted, staggering to his feet. "Attacking Hogsmeade! Right now! I saw one transform right in front of me!" He didn't have to fake his horror. "I Apparated away just in time to avoid being bitten!"
His audience's reaction was unsatisfying. They regarded him with skepticism.
A witch looked down at a glowing pendant, a full circle of silvery light, that illuminated her décolletage. "It is the full moon," she conceded.
"I need to use the Floo." Tom grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and threw it in the fire. "Werewolf Capture Unit." He stuck his head in the green flames.
A wizard seated behind a desk put down his issue of Quidditch Illustrated and looked at him. "Can I help you?"
Tom repeated his speech.
"Um. You're sure?"
"Yes!"
"Well. Thank you for contacting us. Would like like to Floo through and fill out an incident report?" He rummaged through a desk drawer for a lengthy piece of parchment.
"There's no time for that," insisted Tom. "Werewolves are attacking people in Hogsmeade right now!"
"Well then we need an incident report about it," said the wizard. "We can't do anything without an incident report."
"And what will you do once you have this incident report?" asked Tom.
"I'll pass it along to my supervisor."
"Could I please just speak to your supervisor now?" asked Tom.
"I'm sorry, he's left for the day. I'll put the incident report in his in-box so it's the first thing he sees tomorrow, though."
Tom wondered if the heat he felt was the Floo powder wearing off and the fire's normal properties returning, or just rage. Either way, he was done with this call. "I'm sorry for wasting your time," he managed, and he withdrew from the Floo.
After a moment's consideration, he grabbed another pinch of Floo powder and called the Auror Office.
"Is this an emergency?" asked the dispatcher.
"Yes! Werewolves are attacking people in Hogsmeade!"
"Werewolves aren't our department," explained the dispatcher. "You want the Werewolf Capture Unit for that."
"But I just called—"
"Their Floo address is—"
"Aargh!" Tom pulled his head out of the Floo in frustration. "The authorities are useless!" he exclaimed.
"Sir," called the barkeep. "You're disturbing the customers, so I have to ask you to keep it down or leave."
"I'll keep it down," grumbled Tom. He didn't bother wiping Floo-ash off the face he was currently wearing.
"And are you planning to order anything, or just use up my Floo powder?"
Tom threw a few knuts on the bar. "Thank you for the use of your Floo. I'm not thirsty."
"Seems like you've had enough already," said the barkeep.
"Excuse me, sir?" The witch with the moon pendant looked up at him nervously.
"Yes?"
"You really mean it? There are werewolves in Hogsmeade right now?"
"Yes! This is serious!"
"Oh, wow!" She looked at her friend, sitting at the bar in stylish robes with a grey fur collar. "I think it's true. He has an honest face."
Her friend approached. "I've never seen a real werewolf." She looked at Miss Moon Pendant. "Should we go see?"
"Of course!" The two witches headed to the Floo.
"What are you doing?!" exclaimed Tom. "Are you going to try to defend the humans there, or…"
Miss Fur Collar threw a handful of Floo powder into the fire. "The Three Broomsticks," she called into the green flames.
The flames instantly turned back to orange.
This unusual Floo behavior attracted some attention from the other patrons of the pub.
"Tom!" called Miss Fur Collar, making Tom start, but she was looking at the barkeep. "There's something wrong with your Floo."
"It worked just a moment ago," said Tom.
"You there, did you do something to my Floo?" the barkeep demanded of Tom.
"No! All I did was make a couple of calls."
"Hm. Well, maybe there's something wrong with the Three Broomsticks' Floo," said the barkeep. "Try a different Floo address," he suggested to the witches.
Miss Moon Pendant tried. She threw in the powder, turning the flames green, but they instantly turned orange when she said, "Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop." The witches turned to the barkeep. "No, it's definitely your Floo that's the problem."
The barkeep looked at Tom sternly. "I don't know what you've done to my Floo, but—"
"Try a Floo address outside Hogsmeade," suggested Tom.
The witches discussed this. "What's the name of that waterside pub? Oh yes." She threw yet more powder into the fire. "The Pickled Salamander." The flames stayed green.
The witches looked at each other.
"It's only Hogsmeade addresses that are the problem," realized Tom. "The werewolves blocked all escape routes before they attacked."
"No!" exclaimed Miss Moon Pendant. "They wouldn't do that! Werewolves lock themselves up for safety before the full moon!"
"They don't want to bite anyone!" Miss Fur Collar assured him. "They bite themselves instead, inflicting Dark injuries that accumulate and shorten their lives!"
"It's so tragic," sighed Miss Moon Pendant.
"Then explain why I just saw a werewolf transform in the open in Hogsmeade!" shouted Tom.
"Sir, you said you'd keep it down," said the barkeep.
"You asked me to keep it down or leave," said Tom. "So I'll Apparate home." He felt Dobby's leathery hand in his and soon was back in his own office.
Harrier, who'd been sniffing the Polyjuice vial, started when Tom appeared.
"I hope your hard work wasn't for naught," said Tom. "I couldn't get the Werewolf Capture Unit or the Auror Office to take action."
Harrier growled like rumbling thunder, which did not soothe Tom's nerves.
There was one person he knew he could rely on. He opened his mirror, was briefly startled by his own ruddy blond reflection, then called "Hermione."
She answered soon. "Tom! Is any help coming?"
"No," said Tom. He described his frustrating outing. "I may have sent some tourists your way," he added.
"They won't be able to get in," said Hermione. "Woolsey's pack walled in the whole town. They even put a roof over it. I can't get in, can't cast through it, can't do anything!"
Harrier barked.
"Harrier, do you have any ideas?" called Hermione. "What should we do?"
Harrier whimpered.
"Or were you just swearing in your wolf voice?" asked Tom.
Harrier nodded.
Tom collapsed into his desk chair. "And Eric's in no state to hold a wand. Could we hire a different cursebreaker on such short notice?"
"It would have to be a cursebreaker who wants to break wards that are keeping a pack of werewolves on the other side," mulled Hermione. "It's different when the cursebreaker is trapped inside with the wolves. There's more motivation, then."
"You might as well come home," said Tom. "We've lost this round."
"No, I'll stay and see if there's anything I can do from here," replied Hermione. "I learned a few things from Eric. I'll study these wards. Maybe I can break a hole through, get in a few shots at least before moonset."
"Could Dobby help you at all?" asked Tom.
"Hm. Elf magic is different from human… Might be worth a try."
"I'll send him. Dobby," he called.
The shimmer in the corner coalesced into an opaque elf. "Yes Master?"
Tom aimed his mirror at Dobby. "Coordinate with Hermione about a meeting place outside Hogsmeade, and meet her there."
After some discussion, Dobby vanished with a pop.
Tom turned his mirror around again. "Good luck." He snapped it shut when Hermione's face disappeared.
Tom still had several minutes of his Polyjuiced form left, and his feet hurt. He wondered what was socially acceptable in this situation, although he doubted that even the most thorough etiquette book covered these exact circumstances. Any etiquette expert would presumably be too outraged by Harrier's state of undress to complain about Tom's, so he took off his too-tight shoes.
Harrier sniffed the air curiously.
Tom decided to ignore that. "Perhaps there's news on the Wireless," he said, and he turned on the set he'd recently added to his office.
There was music on the one station. Wizarding music was, in Tom's experience, terrible, combining the flaws of tradition-bound unoriginality with amateurish incompetence. This hurdy-gurdy and recorder band was a particularly painful example of the genre. A hurdy-gurdy was incapable of even the simplest chord progressions, much less the harmonic sophistication of jazz. Oh Merlin, there was a warbling singer too:
Arise, thou fair and shining moon
So like a silvery balloon
Cupid's arrow, nay, harpoon
Hath pierced my heart so I must swoon
Harrier was lying on the floor with her paws over her ears. Her golden eyes looked pained.
"I'm sorry to provide such inadequate entertainment," said Tom over the howling chorus, "but I'm hoping they interrupt this to broadcast some news."
Harrier sighed.
I am his fool, nay, his buffoon
Alas, the time's inopportune
For this is not the time to spoon
The moonlight brings my love to ruin
One of the musicians, to use the term loosely, started a mirliton solo.
"Should I turn the volume down?" Tom asked.
Harrier took her paws off her ears so she could stagger to her feet and nod emphatically.
"Say when." He slowly turned the dial.
All while the wailing wind doth croon
My werewolf howls a tender tune
His growl as deep as a bassoon
Far sweeter than the sweetest prune
By now, the howling chorus was barely audible. Harrier raised a front paw, so Tom stopped. "Like this?"
Nod.
Tom suddenly felt his missing molars start to grow back. Soon his midsection shrank to its usual form, and he could put his shoes back on without discomfort.
There were necessary arrangements to make. He rang for Fiona, who arrived promptly. "Yes Mr…" she trailed off as her gaze alighted on Harrier.
Harrier looked up at her and wagged her tail, clumsily thumping it against a chair.
"Prepare the lilac room for my guest to stay overnight," said Tom. He indicated the untidy pile of clothes on the floor. "And repair those as necessary. A few buttons popped off, and a seam may have split. They must be fixed by morning. So start as soon as you're done preparing the room," he added, for Fiona was taking her time.
"Yes Mr. Riddle." Fiona picked up the clothes and left.
Tom turned to Harrier. "Will you join us for dinner?"
Harrier tilted her head to the side, considering. Then she nodded.
"What should I tell our cook to prepare for you?" Harrier couldn't answer of course, so Tom offered options. "Does typical fare appeal? Soup, dinner rolls, and so on?"
Harrier shook her head.
"Just meat, then?"
Harrier nodded enthusiastically.
"Cooked rare, or…" No. "Raw, then." Yes. "All right. I'll instruct the cook." He left, making a brief stop to wash Floo-ash off his face. He then found Mark and warned him to stay in his suite to avoid being seen by their magical guest. Dinner and breakfast would be brought to his room. Mark received this news with equanimity.
Tom thought as he headed to the kitchen to notify Hester of the change in plans. His father would undoubtedly be delighted by their unusual dinner guest, and his mother's hospitality would be a comfort to the unfortunately afflicted witch. Looking further ahead, Miss Vinter would have to drastically increase production, for their customer base would be much larger after tonight. These new customers hadn't yet been impoverished by their condition, so they could afford to pay a high price. While it was disappointing to lose the progress he'd made with Kettleburn's book, at least the situation had a silver lining.
Author's Note:
Some kind folks who know a lot more about Discord than I do made a Discord server for discussing my writing, posting fan art, etc. This is also where Sam Gabriel, voice actor extraordinaire, will read my fics live. Feel free to join it. FFN doesn't let me post links, but you can reach it through my Archive of Our Own profile.