Author's note: I can't get the formatting to work right in ffn, so I highly recommend reading my fanfics on Archive of Our Own instead.
AB: Welcome to The Daily Entrails, all the news you need to know. This is your host Amanita Baneberry, here today with Auror Bob Ogden, Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, to discuss the Boxing Day disaster at Under Covers.
BO: Good morning, magical Britain.
AB: Now Auror Ogden, I'm sure the first question on my listeners' minds is: what were you doing in Under Covers on Boxing Day?
BO: Well, I don't normally read romance novels, you understand, but I did enjoy Lou Garou, so I wanted to try this new werewolf book. Actually a lot of us in the department did, which is why so many of us were there. We all asked for time off so we could attend the book signing. It's a good thing so many of us happened to be there.
AB: And then you all just happened to shut the event down?
BO: Well, the department's best cursebreaker was there, and she noticed wards going up around the venue, and alerted the rest of us, so that's what triggered our action. We didn't want another incident like the Halloween attack.
AB: So you arrested every single person in the vicinity of Under Covers.
BO: Not arrested, just took into custody, protective custody, in most cases. Everyone was completely safe and as comfortable as possible.
AB: That's not what your victims say. Many report that they suffered injuries at the hands of the Aurors.
BO: Well, hands were rarely involved. It's to be expected that a Petrificus Totalus bomb of that size will lead to some injuries as the subjects are knocked over, depending on what they fall on, but it was really the only way to secure the whole area with as few injuries as possible.
AB: And what were off-duty Aurors doing with a Petrificus Totalus bomb?
BO: We are inquiring into that, since that sort of equipment isn't supposed to be checked out of the armory without cause. Best we can figure, someone just forgot it in their pocket when they went off duty. There was a rush to get to the book signing, you understand.
AB: I understand perfectly well, Auror Ogden, and I'm sure my listeners do too.
BO: We did release almost everyone as soon as the moon rose, and we could tell humans from werewolves.
AB: "Almost" everyone indeed. Thirteen people never made it out of those Auror holding cells alive. What really happened to them?
BO: Now, that's the most tragic part of the whole incident. The werewolves we captured all took their own lives as soon as they transformed back to their human guises in the morning, so—
AB: That's awfully convenient for the Auror department.
BO: What? No, it's not convenient at all, since now our Legilimency team can't interrogate them about who's behind—
AB: I just meant it's convenient that there's no one to contradict your story about preventing a werewolf attack.
BO: Story? I mean, that many werewolves in a big crowd like that, it would have been a tragedy, like last month's disaster in Hogsmeade.
AB: Werewolves don't usually attack en masse like that.
BO: Exactly, so some human must be behind this. Now, I know the Werewolf Capture Unit has said they'll be able to prevent attacks like this if they get enough funding, but I'm not convinced that this is solely their job. Dark wizards are our department, so if some Dark wizard is putting werewolves under the Imperius in order to use them as an instrument of terror, that would be under our jurisdiction, so—
AB: You seem to have ambitions to be a fiction author yourself, Auror Ogden.
BO: It's our job to consider all possibilities. If there is a Dark wizard out there—
AB: Thank you for joining me today, Auror Ogden. After the break—
BO: One more thing—
AB: —I'll have another guest—
BO: I have a message for the people of magical Britain.
AB: This is my show, at least until the Auror department decides to shut it down, and I won't have you—
BO: If anyone has knowledge of who's behind these recent attacks—
AB: And wants to conveniently disappear just like those thirteen romance novel fans—
BO: —please contact the Auror department—
AB:—and I must thank our sponsor, Tempest's Teapots, with a new kettle that howls when the water boils—
BO: —and rest assured that our witness protection program—
AB: —and grey furry tea cozies that keep tea piping hot—
BO: —offers immunity from prosecution—
—-
There was a crackling noise, then the wireless went silent.
Tom and Hermione looked at each other. Eventually, Tom spoke. "I'm impressed with the Auror department. Their escape from the Ministry's restrictions seems worthy of Houdini."
"Yes," said Hermione, although she seemed troubled. "That worked once. They'll have trouble if they try the same trick next month."
"They won't need to, if the Werewolf Capture Unit starts doing their job."
"January twenty-fifth's a Friday, though. Didn't Briar say they leave early on Fridays?"
"Hopefully—"
"You and your hope," she scoffed. "You have this stupid idea that you can fix things if you just charge in boldly enough, but you can't."
This was a surprising accusation for a Gryffindor to direct towards a Slytherin. Tom suspected that he wasn't the true target of Hermione's ire. "You've done a lot of good by coming here," he assured her. "My family is obviously better off with your help, as you united me with my son. And you've heard my father going on about how your antibiotics provide seemingly miraculous cures of everything from gangrene to syphilis. You've saved hundreds of muggle lives and prevented terrible suffering already, Hermione, and more to come. Professor Waxwigge is scaling up production as fast as he can to meet demand."
Hermione nodded to concede these points. "Thank you. Fixing the wizarding world is harder, though."
"Your Wolfsbane potion has already improved the lives of numerous werewolves."
"And now it's all gone pear-shaped," she said, leaving Tom blinking at the sudden redirection of the conversation to fruit geometry.
Hermione continued. "It helps that muggle diseases don't really fight back. There's no human intelligence organizing to protect tuberculosis."
Tom nodded, glad to be back on familiar ground. "Investment in the muggle world has a higher rate of return than that in the magical world. Just looking at lives saved per effort expended, muggle lives are cheap."
Hermione looked at him askance. "I wouldn't have put it that way, but I see your point." She gazed into the crackling fire for a moment, then abruptly got up. "I need to make plans." She left.
This left Tom with a silent wireless and only a stack of periodicals for entertainment. He browsed through them. The Prophet's December 27 headline screamed, "Aurors Shut Down Book Signing." He reread the article as if that would clarify matters:
—-
In the Ministry's latest attempt to restrict freedom of the press, yesterday's scheduled book signing at Under Covers was sabotaged by a large number of undercover Aurors…
"I've never been so insulted in my life," says a witch who prefers to remain anonymous, but whose identity has been confirmed by this reporter. "That's my favorite bookshop. I go there all the time, and I was so looking forward to hearing this talk by Diadema Vane, and then the Aurors ruined everything!"…
Durwin Mcnair, head of the Werewolf Capture Unit, is on holiday in Majorca and could not be reached for comment…
"I wasn't there," says Dark creature expert Ignis McKinnon. "I didn't even know the event was happening. I don't read romance novels. Not really my thing. I'd just got back from an each-uisge extermination job and was busy butchering the remains to sell to a potioneer when I noticed my Floo blaze, but I was up to my elbows in each-uisge guts at the time so I couldn't answer. Apparently that was the Auror department needing a Dark creature expert. I'm sorry I wasn't available to help, but the Aurors did a fine job without me. They called again in the morning for help identifying the remains, and I confirmed that all of the dead had been werewolves. The fact that they'd been wolves all night made it obvious, and I could detect traces of Dark creature magic in them. And the way they'd killed themselves… I've seen that before, when werewolves are captured… No, they definitely weren't transfigured humans or Animagi or anything of the sort. The Aurors prevented what would have been a terrible werewolf attack. I have nothing but respect for the Auror department… Yes, it's theoretically possible to put a werewolf under the Imperius curse, any time other than when the full moon is in the sky. Their minds are completely human most of the time, so they're subject to all the same mind magics as humans… I have no idea what these particular werewolves suffered… Rest assured that I arranged respectful burials for all of them… No, I'm not telling you where. I don't want any werewolf-haters desecrating their graves… And yes, I advised the Auror department not to share any identifying details about the deceased with the public. I'm sure their families already mourned their loss when their loved ones were first bitten, and would not appreciate the attention of the public, and particularly that of the press. Shouldn't you be interviewing someone who was actually there?"
Mr. McKinnon's clear discomfort with being interviewed suggests that he fears retribution from the Auror department if he lets the truth slip…
—-
Tom put the newspaper down when the fireplace blazed green and Serpens's head appeared in it. "Tom? Are you at home?"
Tom knelt on the cushion he'd placed by the fireplace. "Serpens! It's good to hear from you. How did Corvus like his new broom?"
Serpens shook his head with a rueful chuckle. "He liked it well enough until he broke it, and now that model's sold out so I won't be able to replace it until the new year."
"That's a pity," sympathized Tom.
"Tommy liked his train set?"
"Very much. It takes some supervision to prevent him from teething on it."
Serpens laughed. "I remember that age. Anyway, while Corvus is on holiday from school, I'd like to get him out of the manor to expend energy elsewhere, so I was wondering if you and yours would like to accompany us to Darin' Dragons tomorrow. That establishment generally allows children eleven and up to be dropped off by their parents, but for Corvus," Serpens sighed, "after last time, they've made an exception, and insist that I stay on the grounds to supervise him. I'd appreciate some more mature company to make the outing more tolerable."
"Oh yes, I've seen adverts for their new werewolf ride. Sure, Tommy might enjoy it. I just need to check that I'll be free tomorrow. I'll call you back in a few minutes, all right?"
"Thank you." Serpens's fiery head disappeared from the fireplace.
Tom went to Hermione's room and knocked on her door.
"What?" said her irritated voice.
"I'm conveying Serpens's invitation to Darin' Dragons tomorrow. It sounds like a fun outing. They have a new werewolf ride."
After some silence, the door opened, although Hermione was on the other side of the room, setting her beaded bag on the vanity. She sheathed her wand. "They turned a terrible disease into an amusement park ride? You support this? Don't you think it's tacky?"
Tom stepped in. "It's better than how werewolves were viewed before. That ride might be more to Corvus's tastes, anyway. They have gentler entertainments for children Tommy's age. If you don't want to come with us, I'll have to decline Serpens's invitation, as I won't be able to perform the expected paternal repair of any of Tommy's accidental magic, should he get overexcited, and it would be tacky for me to bring a former Malfoy elf. I'd hate to deprive Tommy of what looks to be a fun outing, but if you're opposed to going, of course—"
"All right, all right. What time will we leave?"
"We haven't worked out details. I'll call him back. Would you like to join me in my office for that?"
"No, I have things to do. Just let me know."
"I will." Tom stepped out of Hermione's room and felt a cold draft as the door slammed shut behind him. He returned to his office and Floo-called Malfoy Manor. "Serpens?"
"Tom, will you be free?"
"Yes. I'll be there with Tommy and Hermione."
"The seer as well? Wonderful! Corvus will be so excited!" Serpens then looked worried. "One moment. I need to check something. I'll call you back soon."
"All right." Tom withdrew his head from the fire and passed the time with The Prophet. It was thick with adverts for wolfwear and wolfware, and a few for the latest security runes, guaranteed to repel Dark creatures. The letters to the editor displayed some interesting opinions:
—-
…This was obviously the work of the same group that attacked the Lou Garou book signing, so it couldn't have been real werewolves…
…That shop owner asking for it by selling a werewolf book…
…This is just another example of the Auror department harassing honest Knockturn Alley merchants…
—-
The fire eventually blazed green again. "Tom?"
"Serpens, what news?"
"There's a slight change in plans. I'll actually be bringing two children, Corvus, and his friend John from school."
"The more the merrier," said Tom, although he suspected that this friend was a Gryffindor. "But checking your maths, that brings your total to three children, doesn't it? Counting Abraxas."
"Oh! Yes, of course, I'll have Lizzie bring Abraxas."
"Wonderful! Tommy will have someone his age to play with."
"Shall we meet there at, say, ten?"
"Perfect. I'm looking forward to it."
"One more thing," said Serpens. "Not all of us are campaigning for a Most Charming Smile award, so I'd prefer that Witch Weekly photographers remain ignorant of our itinerary."
Tom laughed. "Your wish is my command."
—
"Any chance you'll punch Malfoy in the face today?" Hermione asked hopefully.
"It's unlikely, sorry," said Tom. "And I must ask you to refrain as well."
"I know, it wouldn't help your plan to ingratiate yourself with the old pureblood families if you're seen associating with a violent muggleborn. I'm amazed at how well that project's going, by the way."
"It's not that," said Tom. "I just meant it wouldn't be sporting. Serpens hasn't been practicing Müller system exercises like we have."
Hermione laughed as Tom took a handful of Floo powder from the uranium glass bowl and Flooed to Darin' Dragons. He stepped out of one of several outdoor Floos, all in a row under a bright blue sky. He turned to offer a hand to Hermione as she stepped out, but she was carrying Tommy with both arms, so this didn't work. She was steady enough on her feet not to require Tom's assistance, but Tom would have liked a opportunity to be courteous. She set Tommy down, but kept his little hand firmly in hers as the three of them made way for the next family to arrive by Floo.
Tommy looked around, wide-eyed, and gripped Hermione's hand. The surroundings were certainly eye-catching. The crowd of witches and wizards, including a great many rambunctious children, were converging on queues that moved quickly past tills to admit people through a towering wall of fire into the grounds. A large sign with letters of blue flames provided a pleasing contrast to the orange inferno behind it, so "Darin' Dragons" was clearly readable. As Tom watched, he heard a rumbling roar and saw a red dragon leap so its horned head was just visible above the wall of fire. Then it descended, the segments of its sinuous body appearing and vanishing in turn. Each segment was ridden by a screaming child.
Tommy cried out. Hermione picked him up and hugged him. "It's all right, Tommy, you're safe," but she didn't sound very reassuring, as her voice was worried. Tommy continued to cry.
"Now Tommy," said Tom, looking straight into his dark eyes. "This is fun, since it's all pretend. What bright colors!" He left his Occlumency completely relaxed, offering no resistance to Tommy's frantic grasping.
Tommy settled, then smiled, then laughed. "Dwagons!"
Tom laughed. "Yes, huge toy dragons. We're here to play with them."
Tommy wriggled out of Hermione's grasp and tried to run towards the wall of fire, but didn't get far, as Tom caught him in a hug. "Want dwagons!"
"Soon, Tommy," Tom promised.
"Ah, there you are," said Serpens.
Tom looked up from Tommy. "Serpens! Thank you for the invitation. This looks most diverting."
"And you brought the seer!" exclaimed Corvus. He turned to a boy at his side. "She prophesied my murder! And then my father prevented it!"
His friend looked confused. "Doesn't seem like a very accurate seer, then," he observed. At Corvus's affronted look, he quickly backpedaled. "Not that I'd know about seers of course."
Tom suspected that to be true. Corvus's friend wouldn't have been worthy of a glance from Tom had he passed him on the streets of Great Hangleton. He wore perfectly ordinary muggle clothes, including a blue wool coat that was slightly too large for him, and faded at the cuffs and hem. He was attracting some curious glances from the crowd. Tom thought it rude of the Malfoys not to have offered the child a wizarding cloak at least, but perhaps he'd refused out of pride.
But it was time to take control of the conversation. "I didn't 'bring' the seer," Tom explained to Corvus as he stood, transferring Tommy's hand to Hermione. "I invited her to enjoy one of Britain's tourist attractions, as it's a novelty to an Australian, and she accepted my invitation."
"Thank you for joining us," said Serpens to Hermione. "We are honored by your presence."
"I'll do introductions!" said Corvus. "Tom Riddle the heir of Riddle, and Hermione Granger the famous Australian seer and duelist, this is my friend John Murphy. We're in the same dorm room in Gryffindor tower."
"I'm pleased to meet you," said Tom, shaking John's wooly mittened hand with his soft dahu leather gloved one.
"Me too," said Hermione, offering her similarly-gloved hand to John.
Corvus bumped his shoulder against John's. "You're supposed to kiss her hand."
"What, really?"
"Not with tongue and stuff, just symbolically, you know. Go on."
Hermione laughed and offered her hand to Corvus. "Show your friend how it's done."
Etiquette books did not specify that an introductory hand kiss required such a dramatic swish of one's cloak, but Corvus's performance was otherwise correct.
John's imitation was passable, although his coat was useless for dramatic swishing.
"I'm pleased to meet you," said Hermione. "This is Tom's son Tommy. Can you say good morning, Tommy?"
Tommy wrapped himself up in Hermione's cloak.
Corvus and John laughed.
"I suppose this is a lot to take in," said Hermione sympathetically. "He's almost two," she explained. "I know he looks older since he's tall, but he's still very young."
"I'm really glad you came," said Corvus. "Father said at first that I couldn't bring John, since he's—"
"Corvus," said Serpens sharply.
Hermione looked at Serpens, her good cheer evaporating. "Muggleborn," she said, completing Corvus's sentence.
"I didn't want to have to keep track of an additional child without some more adults in the group to help," said Serpens firmly.
"I thought Slytherins were supposed to be better at lying than that," remarked Hermione, to the amusement of Corvus and John. "Anyway, I'm glad my addition to the party destroyed Malfoy's excuse to exclude you, John."
Corvus was in hysterics, but his friend was starting to look nervously at Serpens, whose face was reddening past the wintry rosy-cheeked level of the rest of the group.
Serpens took a deep breath and spoke in measured tones. "I wasn't sure if John would feel comfortable here, considering it's not part of his heritage, but then Tom reminded me that some muggleborns can adapt very well to our world, so I thought—"
"You thought you could use this child to impress me," said Hermione.
Serpens cleared his throat. "Not use as such…"
Hermione laughed. "Tommy didn't learn to walk in a day. I appreciate the gesture. I prefer this to the exploding cheese cart at our first meeting."
John laughed, then stifled his laughter and looked at Corvus quizzically.
Corvus nodded and snorted his own laughter. "I'll tell you later."
"Is Abraxas here?" asked Hermione.
"Yes, he's with Lizzie, his nursemaid. I had her hold a spot in the queue for us while we looked for you. This way." Serpens led them to the front of a queue, where a plump woman waited with a boy about Tommy's age. Her robes were not particularly fashionable, completely lacking grey fur trim or even moon phase patterns. She stepped back to make room for their party.
"Oi!" said a man behind her. "No cutting into the queue!"
"Don't you 'Oi!' me! I been savin' the spot for 'em!" the nursemaid argued. She pointed to Serpens. "Tha's this babber's da, tha' is. You wouldn' separate a babber from his'n da, would ye?" She hoisted the boy to her hip to get him closer to Serpens. Their family resemblance was inarguable, although Abraxas was cuter, with strawberry blond hair and huge blue eyes that lacked his father's cunning.
"All right then," the man grudgingly conceded.
Hermione brought Tommy to the little boy. "Good morning!" she said brightly to the nursemaid. "I'm Hermione Granger. This is Tommy Riddle. And this must be Abraxas!"
The nursemaid was struck dumb, which was not a bad thing, for a rural West Country dialect was not pleasing to the ear. She looked to Serpens for guidance, but he shrugged, conveying his inability to handle the situation any better than she did.
Tom tugged Hermione aside and addressed her quietly. "Introductions to servants are not done," he explained. "One might point out a servant, as one points out the hat rack or other facilities, but—"
Hermione pulled away. "I'm not going to pretend she's not a person just because she's a servant." She looked back to the nursemaid. "We're both caring for children not our own. I'm sure we have a lot in common."
"Begaur!" exclaimed the nursemaid. "But you be Hermione Granger, the famous duelist! I've read all about you in Witch Weekly! Oh, I be sure we've got nothin' in common at all, except for the fact that we're both, well…" She looked at Serpens nervously.
Hermione looked at him curiously. "You hired a muggleborn to care for your son? And then you told Corvus that a muggleborn couldn't—"
"Eight unlimited ride bracelets, please," said Serpens desperately to the cashier, for they'd made their way to the front of the queue.
Tom didn't argue and try to pay for some of those bracelets, as he feared that any additional conflict would push Serpens over the edge into an apoplectic fit.
Once inside, colorful bracelets secured on wrists, they took a moment to admire the scene. The red dragon leaped over their heads.
"It's like a roller coaster without tracks!" exclaimed John.
"A what?" asked Corvus.
"It's a muggle thing, a lot like this," John continued. "I'll have to take you to Blackpool Pleasure Beach. They have lots of fun rides."
"What, really?" asked Corvus.
"Their River Caves ride is fun in summer," added Tom.
Corvus's attention snapped to Tom. "Wizards go there?"
"I recommend donning a muggle costume first," said Tom. "Statute of Secrecy, you know."
John looked up at Tom with interest. "Are you a muggleborn?"
Corvus cringed. "Don't be ridiculous. The Riddles are a respected old halfblood family. Everyone knows that. Anyway, there's a sign for Werewolf Mountain! Let's go!"
"How can there be an old halfblood family?" asked John as they walked. "Doesn't a magical family count as pureblood after enough generations?"
"Depends on whom they marry," explained Corvus. "Riddle wizards marry any witch they want: halfbloods, muggleborns even. They don't worry about blood purity. Seems like a good deal if you ask me."
The group followed Corvus's lead to what looked like a hollow mountain and queued up for the new ride under the artificial moonlight, to be serenaded by howling as they waited their turn.
"No Tommy, that's dirty," said Hermione, trying to pull Tommy's mouth off the furry grey handrail.
"Wah!" said Tommy, not pleased to have his new toy taken from him.
"Abraxas is still sucking on that thing," Hermione pointed out to Lizzie.
"Oh, aye, i' keeps him happy, doesn' i'," observed Lizzie. "So furry."
"Is this ride even suitable for young children?" wondered Tom as screams reverberated from the mountain's dark depths. "It might be too scary for them."
"Good point," said Serpens. "Lizzie, take Abraxas to Wyrmlings' Grove. Follow the signs."
"Yes Master," said Lizzie. "Come along babber." She pulled a bedraggled old toy, that had probably once resembled some furry animal, from her pocket, and transferred Abraxas's slobbery mouth from the handrail to the toy. Then she ducked under the handrail to escape from the queue.
"I could take Tommy there too if you'd like to ride this," Tom offered Hermione.
"No thanks, I don't fancy taking a ride on a disease," said Hermione, ducking under the handrail with more agility than Lizzie had exhibited, taking Tommy with her.
Serpens laughed. "When you put it that way…"
The people in the queue stirred eagerly as the previous batch of riders staggered out of the mountain, looking sweaty, with a variety of expressions from terror to giddiness.
"We're next!" exclaimed Corvus, bouncing in excitement.
"I'm happy to watch Tommy, though," emphasized Tom. "I don't mean to deprive you of the opportunity—"
"You can just come with us you know," said Hermione. "You don't need an excuse, unless you're trying to hide the fact that you're too scared to ride this, and you're doing a poor job of that."
Tom jumped over the grey furry handrail, landing beside Hermione with a flourish. There was much to be said for modern muggle clothes, but they lacked the expressivity of a good full cloak. "I enjoy my son's company," he said firmly, "and even yours, to a certain extent. I have no particular desire to ride this disease. We'll go to Wyrmlings' Grove together."
"Wait a moment," called Serpens. He eyed the grey furry handrail skeptically, then opted to duck under it. Tom gave him a hand to help him up afterwards. "Thank you. I may be too old for this sort of thing myself." He turned around. "Boys, meet us in Wyrmlings' Grove when you're done. And do follow all of the staff's safety instructions."
"Yes, father," said Corvus in a singsong tone that Tom didn't like the sound of.
"I'm serious about that," Serpens called after the boys as they passed through what appeared to be a fanged mouth into the hollow mountain. "If I hear otherwise, we're never coming back here."
John looked worriedly at Corvus, who answered with a dismissive shrug, and then the two boys vanished into the darkness.
The rest of the party headed to Wyrmlings' Grove, sheltered with evergreens and bright with red holly berries. Young children pushed huge colorful eggs around over a mulch of, if appearances were to be believed, precious gemstone gravel. Tommy and Abraxas were more interested in the mulch itself than in the large toys on top of it, so they sat down and played with it.
Lizzie sat down with the boys, offering them more gravel of their preferred colors.
Hermione seemed about to sit with them, so Tom said, "Hermione, please join us on this bench. We have a fine view of the boys from here, and it's more comfortable than gravel."
"Yes, please join us," said Serpens, so Hermione did, using Tom as a barrier between her and the pureblood.
Serpens peered around Tom, who leaned back to give him as clear a view as possible. "I haven't yet had a chance to properly thank you for the part you played in saving Corvus's life."
"Don't mention it," said Hermione.
"I already thanked Tom for conveying your prophecy to me," said Serpens, "yet I remain in your debt for—"
"It was nothing," said Hermione. "Really. It's fine."
A purple dragon the size of an ox flew overhead and puffed flames at them. The warmth was pleasant on this chilly December day. The boys didn't notice, fully engrossed in the gravel.
Tom did Hermione the favor of changing the subject. "The Prophet has an interesting angle on werewolf news," he observed.
Hermione briefly gifted Tom with her perfect smile.
Serpens switched his gaze from Hermione to Tom and sighed. "Fat lot of good it's doing," he said, accepting the change of subject resignedly. "It looks like Macnair will succeed in convincing the Wizengamot to increase the Werewolf Capture Unit's budget." At Tom's quizzical look, he elaborated, "Torin Macnair has a seat on the Wizengamot. Of course he's using his position to enrich his family, particularly his brother Durwin. Apparently it wasn't enough for him to appoint that layabout as head of the Werewolf Capture Unit; now he's going to vastly increase his budget. No doubt much of this money will find its way into the Macnair family vaults rather than do any good against these supposed werewolves."
Tom shook his head disapprovingly. "Typical Wizengamot corruption."
"Still, I understand their need to do something about these werewolf attacks," said Hermione.
Serpens looked at Hermione in surprise. "You really believe those were werewolf attacks? I understand that you're a newcomer to our world, so let me assure you that the Wizengamot's story on this is nonsense. Werewolves don't act like this. This is all Macnair's money-making scheme."
"A false flag operation?" asked Hermione.
Serpens considered, then nodded. "An apt phrase. The Werewolf Capture Unit is trying to make werewolves seem more dangerous than they really are, to justify a vast increase in their budget."
"But the Hogsmeade attack seemed real," argued Hermione.
Serpens laughed. "Seemed," he repeated sarcastically. "Yet I haven't heard from anyone who was actually bitten in that supposed attack."
Tom and Hermione looked at each other. They'd heard from reliable sources that many people had been bitten in that attack. Of course, these new werewolves were unlikely to go on the record about their condition.
"I'm not as ignorant of werewolves as you assume," Hermione said to Serpens, "but I agree with you that this would be very unusual behavior for werewolves."
"And now the Auror department is trying to push some story that even the Halloween attack had something to do with real werewolves. Did you hear that Daily Entrails interview?"
"Yes," said Hermione. "It was odd, the way the wireless suddenly went silent."
"I know," agreed Serpens. "It makes me wonder if the Ministry will come after my newspaper next."
Hermione looked confusedly at Serpens.
"In principle, we enjoy freedom of the press here in wizarding Britain," Serpens explained to the Australian. "But as we saw on Boxing Day, laws guaranteeing our rights are worth no more than the parchment they're written on, if the Auror department can shut down a book signing like that, unofficially but effectively. You don't believe their claim that they all just happened to be there, do you?"
"No," said Hermione. "It does seem awfully suspicious."
"Not that I'm in the market for romance novels myself, but it's the principle of the thing," said Serpens. "Freedom of the press is sacrosanct. If we don't have that, how can I use my newspaper to influence public opinion?"
Hermione expressed her support of this principle with a companionable silence.
"Magical Britain needs a free press," Serpens continued. "It's the only check on the Ministry we have, to stir up enough public sentiment against certain Wizengamot members to get them voted out and replaced with better ones. I haven't had to do that for a few years, but if I lose that power…" He shivered, despite the warmth of the fire from the purple dragon swooping above. "I'm concerned the Ministry could descend into tyranny."
"Whom did you last oust from the Wizengamot?" Hermione asked.
"Henry Potter," Serpens explained. "He was blatantly violating the Statute of Secrecy. If Britain hadn't managed that problem on our own, I was concerned that the ICW would intervene. He didn't get the prison time he deserved, but at least I got him off the Wizengamot for a few years. He was recently voted back in, unfortunately, but hopefully he'll be better behaved this time."
"How did he violate the Statute?" asked Hermione.
"Apparently there was some plague killing a lot of muggles a few years ago," started Serpens.
"The Spanish flu?" Tom filled in.
Serpens nodded. "Potter's a potioneer, and he brewed a potion to cure his muggle neighbors of this plague, out of some sentimental attachment to them. That's a risk of living in a mixed magical-muggle community; there are far too many opportunities to violate the Statute. And for such a terrible reason, too! We need some sort of check on the muggle population, or their numbers would grow completely out of control. It's best to let muggle plagues run their course."
The purple dragon swooped over Tommy and Abraxas, puffing fire at them. They finally looked up and noticed, laughing in delight. They abandoned their gravel collections and chased after it as it slowly flapped away, reaching toward its tail, which dangled down at toddler-tempting height. Lizzie observed them with a smile.
"Be careful!" Hermione shouted as Tommy nearly caught the tail. She rose from the bench and bolted towards Tommy.
"He's as careful as he needs to be," said Tom, chasing after her.
"But if he catches it—"
"The ground's padded," said Tom. "He'll be fine. Look." Tom might as well offer Hermione the same service he'd provided to Tommy. He stepped in front of her, blocking her path, and looked into her eyes, making his Occlumency-free offer clear.
"It would look a bit odd to draw my wand and cast Legilimens here," whispered Hermione.
"But we've been practicing. You know your way around my mind well enough to do it wandlessly."
She took a deep breath and accepted his offer, bright brown eyes acquiring an eerie quality as she whispered "Legilimens," then finding all the playfulness and joy at the forefront of Tom's mind. Hermione and Tom, working together, would turn this world upside down, keeping the delights like this entertaining dragon, while consigning Serpens and his ilk to the rubbish bin of history. To let Serpens's words bother her was to take him more seriously than he deserved. Tom also dwelled on his appreciation of her cunning plan. Bolting after Tommy was a much better outlet for her emotions than punching Serpens, and Tom admired her for having thought of it.
Hermione smiled, and her next deep breath was steadier. "That's one way of looking at it. Thank you." She turned away from Tom to look at the dragon, which was no loss, as the side view of her smiling face was equally beautiful. "But anyway, what would actually happen if they caught that dragon?"
"One way to find out," said Tom, running forward and grabbing the purple tail with both hands.
He was quickly hoisted aloft, and had to tuck his legs up to avoid kicking Abraxas on his way up. He was still awkwardly close to the ground, so he hauled himself up, finding plentiful handholds on the scaly tail, until he could comfortably straddle the dragon's back, which seemed designed to hold a rider.
What was he actually riding? He leaned to one side to try to get a better look at an eye, and concluded that it was probably made of glass, set in carved, painted wood. It had no apparent interest in him.
There was a nice view of the cheering crowd from up here.
Tommy let out a delighted laugh as Tom flew over him. "Papa!" he exclaimed.
Tom waved.
"Are you sure you're allowed to do that?!" Hermione called after him.
"I don't see any signs saying I'm not," replied Tom. "Oh, hello again, Corvus and John."
"Wicked!" exclaimed Corvus appreciatively. "John, look at Mr. Riddle! He's riding the dragon!"
"I'm not blind," said John.
The dragon swooped low again, so Tom took the opportunity to dismount. He swung both legs to the left side and slid off, skidding a bit on the jeweled gravel as he landed. This seemed an inconclusive finale, considering the number of people looking at him, so he added a bow once he was steady on his feet, with a flourish of his cloak that made it clear that Corvus's has been mere child's play. His audience applauded.
Corvus and John were inspired to follow Tom's example, and managed to catch the dragon a few times each, but couldn't climb onto its back, only holding on to the tail for a few moments, as their arms tired quickly. They were frustrated by Tom's seeming refusal to tell them the trick of how to hold on longer and climb higher, as they deemed "Müller system exercises" an unsatisfying answer. Finally they sat on the bench with Serpens and Tom to catch their breath. Hermione joined them while Lizzie kept an eye on Tommy and Abraxas.
"So how was Werewolf Mountain?" asked Serpens.
"Wonderful!" said Corvus. "Good thing you didn't go, though, father. You'd have been scared. John was terrified."
"Was not!" said John. "You were. I heard you scream!"
"That was my fearsome battle cry," corrected Corvus.
"Fearsome, my arse. More like fearful. Corvus, the frightened little girl."
Corvus blinked in confusion. "Wait. You know I'm a boy, right? We're both in the boys' dormitory."
"Yeah, but you're as cowardly as a girl!"
Corvus and Serpens were now both blinking at John in confusion.
"He means 'girl' as an insult," Tom explained.
"What? Why?" asked Corvus.
"It's a muggle thing," said Tom. He addressed John. "You'll need to acquire some more appropriate insults for use in the magical world. That one will result in confusion at best and offense at worst."
Serpens looked to Tom. "You mean to say that muggles consider girls to be cowardly?"
"Some do. I don't wish to generalize, as many know better, but yes, it's a common misconception among muggles. They have the same misconception about women's supposed lack of bravery, compared to men."
Serpens's face reddened as he glared at John. "My first wife," he started, but then stopped with a shake of his head. He looked away from John to Corvus. "Are you sure you want to associate with someone like this? This is why—"
"Don't insult my friends!" yelled Corvus. "You think you can control everything I do, whom I associate with, just because I'm your heir, but—"
"I'm trying to protect—"
"Your father is trying to protect John from witches who might overhear him insulting them," said Tom hurriedly to Corvus. He extended a hand to exhibit A, Hermione, who was clearly not amused.
Corvus and Serpens paused to consider this.
"Yes," agreed Serpens. He then addressed John. "If you hope to be accepted in our world, you must learn our ways. Leave that sort of nonsense in the muggle world."
"So what's Werewolf Mountain like?" Tom asked. "Did it seem like you were chased by werewolves?"
"What?" said Corvus. "No. We were chased by werewolf hunters. We were werewolves, for the ride."
"Someone be cranky," announced Lizzie, carrying a wailing Abraxas on one hip while leading Tommy by the hand. She deposited Tommy with Hermione. "Nothin' some food won' set righ'. We be off to the snack car' just outside," she informed Sepens.
"Actually, we'll all go," Serpens replied.
Serpens insisted on paying for everyone, overriding Tom's objection. Soon, they all had fire cream cones, which, when licked, licked back with cinnamon-flavored flames.
Once refreshed, they enjoyed some of the park's other amenities, such as the Gallopers. "I can't believe they have centaurs," huffed Hermione. She opted to ride a unicorn, with Tommy sitting in front of her, holding onto the mane. Tom rode a kraken, although he soon realized that this may have been a poor choice, as the tentacles kept trying to grab at other animated creatures and their riders as they rode by. This ride was more interesting than a muggle roundabout, as the steeds were not limited to a circular track, but darted freely around an open field. However, the music was terrible.
Then there was the Dragon Flight ride they'd seen on their way in, which offered thrilling drops. Tommy seemed eager to ride it, although he spent most of the ride looking into Tom's eyes from his seat on Tom's lap. Afterwards, he said "More!" and pulled Tom to queue up for it again.
After that, Tom looked for a high striker, since this seemed like the sort of place that would have one, but realized that wizards were uninterested in demonstrating their physical strength. Oh well. The purple dragon had served the purpose well enough.
They had lunch in a noisy restaurant. Hermione read the menu posted on the wall behind the till with trepidation. "Steamed red knight in armor? What is that?"
"Transfigured lobster," explained Serpens. "We've had it before. It's pretty good. Messy to eat, though."
"Seems a tad anthropomorphic for my taste," said Tom. Hermione, Serpens, and he opted for the meat pies, which merely bleated when eaten, rather than challenging them to single combat and insisting "It's only a flesh wound!" as their limbs were ripped off, like Corvus and John's entrees. Tom admired Lizzie's skill at feeding Abraxas with a minimum of mess. Hermione was in the habit of magically cleaning Tommy up afterwards.
"So how are you liking Hogwarts?" Tom asked.
"It's nice," said John. "The food is really good."
"They don't allow Hogsmeade weekends anymore!" Corvus complained, once he'd finished sucking the meat out of his knight's helmet, chewed, and swallowed, so he could politely talk with his mouth free. "They say it's too dangerous; there might be werewolves. But I have a wand now! I can fight them off!"
"Heroics shouldn't be necessary," said Serpens, disappointing Corvus. "But I'll bring it up at the next Board of Governors meeting, see what I can do."
"Thank you, father," said Corvus.
After lunch, they tried the Dragon's Lair, riding a train through dark, underground tunnels. Tommy didn't seem to notice the puffs of fire, and was merely annoyed at the noisy cascades of gold and jewels.
"I best be takin' Abraxas home for his nap," said Lizzie afterwards. "Art'noon. Abraxas, say art'noon to yourn da."
"Art'noon," said Abraxas in his high voice. Then he yawned.
Serpens nodded.
"Sleep well Abraxas!" said Corvus as they left.
"Tommy's ready for his nap too," said Hermione. "We're heading back to the Riddle House. Tom, will you join us?"
Serpens looked concerned.
"I haven't even tried Werewolf Mountain yet," said Tom. "I might as well get full use out of this unlimited ride bracelet."
Serpens sighed in relief.
"Have fun," said Hermione.
"You could just drop Tommy off and return without him," Tom suggested. "He'll be fine at home with my mother."
"I know, but frankly I've had enough of this place too," said Hermione.
"What's not to like?" asked John. "This is nearly as good as Blackpool Pleasure Beach, and the day's paid for already."
"What do you mean, nearly as good?" demanded Corvus.
"Well, you've never been, so you wouldn't understand," said John.
Tom left the boys to their argument and addressed Hermione. "Won't you come back? This place is fun."
"I know, but I don't have time to waste on fun." She turned back to the arguing boys. "Enjoy your afternoon." She then steeled herself for a painful ordeal and faced Serpens. "Thank you for this delightful outing, Mr. Malfoy."
"You are most welcome. Please call me Serpens."
"I'd better get Tommy home to bed," said Hermione, carrying him to the exit.
Serpens watched her go.
"That went well," Tom assured him. "That's about as friendly as she gets."
"Hm."
The rest of the afternoon was a delight. Werewolf Mountain was as thrilling as advertised, with a sensory illusion making Tom feel as if he were transforming into a werewolf. Having witnessed the real thing, he judged the sensation unrealistic, which was not a cause for complaint. He ran from werewolf hunters as a quadruped, then transformed back and queued up to go through again, for he wanted to pay closer attention to how some of the illusions were done.
Finally, an amplified voice announced that the park would soon close, so Tom thanked his host and traded farewells, then Flooed home.
He freshened up, then headed to the drawing room to await dinner. "Good evening, Mark," he said, for the boy was there already.
"Good evening Mr. Riddle. How was your outing?"
"Almost as fun as Blackpool Pleasure Beach. I'll have to take you there this summer."
Talk of the relative merits of various amusements occupied the next few minutes as the others arrived. Tommy hissed at Mark with enthusiasm.
Mark replied with less enthusiasm.
"What's Tommy saying?" Tom asked, a bit annoyed at himself for needing an interpreter, although of course Mark had an advantage: the plasticity of a child's mind.
"He says I should go to Darin' Dragons because they have really nice mulch there, so I said I'll never go there again, but we'll go to a different amusement park and have fun there instead."
"Ah," said Tom.
"And how's Corvus?" Mark asked in an almost believably casual tone of voice.
"He enjoyed the outing," said Tom. "He brought a friend from school, John something. He's a muggleborn, which Corvus's father didn't seem to approve of, but he tolerated him well enough."
"Oh," said Mark, his gaze flicking to Hermione, then away. "I'm glad he's making new friends. Of course, I'm making lots of new friends, so it stands to reason that he is too."
Everyone was relieved when Fiona announced that dinner was served.
—
As foretold, the headline of the December 31 edition of The Prophet declared Huge Increase in Werewolf Capture Unit Budget. Durwin Macnair had even apparently cut his holiday short to make a statement: "1929 will be the year werewolves are hunted to extinction," he promised. "The people of magical Britain should rest assured that we are handling this situation, and taking all necessary measures to ensure the safety of our citizens. You cannot put a price on human life."
Tom couldn't dwell on this news too much, for he had Tommy's birthday to celebrate. He'd considered inviting Abraxas and family, as Tommy's peer, but that would have necessitated excluding Mark, which seemed a poor trade, so the party was a family affair.
Mark hissed something at Tommy and picked him up, up, up, until he was giggling over Mark's head.
"What did you tell him?" Tom's father asked.
"I wished him a happy birthday," said Mark, letting him down only to hoist him up again. "Then I said something must be wrong, since as he gets older, it feels like he's getting lighter. That's why he keeps floating up to the ceiling. Look, there he goes again!"
Tommy laughed and hissed at Mark, who obliged by dropping him almost to the floor, then hoisting him skyward once more.
Tommy eventually tired of this game. He then unwrapped his new toys, set them aside, and played with the boxes and wrapping paper they'd come in.
Hermione sat back with a sigh, while Tom and his mother got on the floor with Tommy to see which boxes fit inside other boxes. Mark, a growing boy, devoured a third slice of birthday cake.
"Good idea," said Tom's father, taking another slice for himself.
Apropos of nothing, Hermione said, "The World Health Organization says all children should be breastfed until at least age two."
"The what?" asked Tom's father.
"The— Never mind. The point is, Tommy will be fine without me for a bit, especially with Mrs. Riddle and Tom taking such good care of him, so I'm free to focus more of my energies on other projects."
"What other projects?" asked Tom's father.
"That's not your concern," said Hermione.
"You're leaving us?" asked Tom.
"I have a few errands to run on the continent. They'll take some time, and with the restrictions on international travel making it so inconvenient, I'd like to check several off my to-do list at once. I should be back before January's full moon." She looked grim even by her standards. "Not that I can necessarily do anything about it."
"Will you be safe?" asked Tom's mother.
"I've lived this long," said Hermione. "I need to make good use of the time I have left."
"When will you leave?" asked Tom.
"Tonight. So. I just thought I'd let you know. I'll be back when I can." She left the room.
Tom's father chased after her, which made Tom worry that she might choose not to return. Could he prevent whatever his father was about to do? Perhaps he'd be better off trying to repair the damage later.
"Don't you have plans to meet with your London friends this evening as soon as you're done here?" Tom's mother asked. "This party seems to be over."
"Oh. Yes, thank you. I'd best get ready." He left his mother, Tommy, and Mark playing with empty boxes and headed to his room to change.
Before he'd had time to get fully dressed, he heard a knock at his door. "Just a moment." He donned a dressing gown, then said "Come in."
His father entered, looking uncharacteristically troubled. "Tom, I'm glad I caught you before you left. We may have a problem."
Of course he did. It was so unusual for Tom's father to admit to any sort of problem, this was concerning. "What problem?
"Being in charge of the muggle side of the business, I noticed a bit of a wobble in the stock market. It righted itself soon enough, but it did make me wonder about the timing of any future wobbles. So I asked Hermione if she could give us any stock information from the future before she left. She said, and I quote, 'You Riddles deserve what's coming to you.'"
Tom shivered. "Did she give any more specifics?"
"Nothing useful, the—"
"I need any detail you can give me."
"She said she's already given us enough information to make a profit in Wolfsbane and a fortune in muggle drugs, and asking for more is pure greed, the sort of thing that makes her question the wisdom of letting us raise Tommy in the first place. Letting us raise my own grandson! And she calls us presumptuous!"
"Please just tell me what she said."
"She said it's the height of arrogance to think we deserve all this wealth we've inherited. She said I'm no more deserving of this grand house than any of my poor tenants, and it's about time we got knocked down a peg, but unfortunately the information she's given us already will prevent us from sinking as low as we deserve. So. I'm sure this is nothing that you can't fix. Go talk to her."
"What do you want me to say?"
"I don't know. Just…" Tom's father waved his hand vaguely. "Do your thing. That charm thing you do. I'm sure you'll sort this all out in a jiffy."
Tom sighed. "I'll see what I can do."
"Good. I have complete confidence in you." Tom's father always had complete confidence, so this wasn't remarkable.
After his father left, Tom finished donning his muggle costume, then knocked at the door of Hermione's room and was rewarded with her familiar irritated "What?"
"May I please speak with you for a moment?"
She opened the door. Tom was pleasantly surprised to find her dressed in a smart muggle suit. The feeling was not mutual. "What are you wearing?" she asked with a look of disbelief at Tom's lower half.
"Oxford bags," explained Tom. "My friends and I are going out dancing in muggle London tonight to greet the new year. Care to join us? Surely you have time for one evening of fun before you run your errands."
"You look like you're wearing a skirt. Not even a modern skirt, more like a Victorian one."
That stung despite the inaccuracy. "I am wearing trousers."
"If you say so. There's enough fabric in that one pair of trousers to clothe a whole family."
"You're one to talk. Wizarding clothing uses even more fabric than this."
"Yes, but you're a muggle. You know, if you're aiming for that voluminous Victorian look, you could add hoops to each leg. That would make the fabric take up even more space."
"These are perfectly practical trousers for dancing jitterbug," insisted Tom. "They're all the rage in London jazz clubs, which you would know if you ever deigned to visit any. The dance requires clothing that permits complete freedom of movement. This is your own fault for not bringing back the formula for spandex, you know. I could be wearing the paint-like clothing you described."
For a moment, he thought he'd got her to crack a smile. Her eyes widened, at least. "That would be…" She looked him up and down. "…even worse," she concluded firmly.
"Anyway, I don't want to discuss fashion."
She gasped melodramatically. "Who are you and what have you done with Tom?!"
"There's a more important matter to discuss. I must apologize for my father's completely inappropriate requests."
Hermione tucked her beaded bag into her pocket and stormed out of her room. Tom followed her to the front hall, where she got a muggle coat from the wardrobe. "Oh no, it's perfectly understandable that he's worried about the stock market. If his investments do badly, someday, his son might be so poor, he might have to wear the same outfit twice. Perish the thought!"
Tom continued to follow her as she charged back up the stairs and let herself into his office. "Hermione—"
"I don't have time for this, Tom. I have a lot to do."
"Perhaps I could help if you told me what you're doing."
"I don't need a muggle's help. You've been helping with the Wolfsbane project, and that's not a particularly impressive line on your CV, is it?"
Tom refused to take full blame for that mess, considering that the whole project had been Hermione's idea in the first place, but he held his tongue. "I'll provide what assistance I can if you just tell me what's going on."
"If you must know, I have to run a few errands in muggle Germany, like preventing the Lübeck disaster. That should ensure that your vaccine business is profitable, since you care so much about that."
"The what?"
She grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the uranium glass bowl. "Profit is all you care about, to support your frivolous—"
"No, what's this disaster?
She paused, powder enclosed in her fist. "If this timeline runs its expected course, a batch of the BCG vaccine against polio will get contaminated with an actual virulent strain of polio and kill seventy-two babies. It will set back public acceptance of vaccines in general."
"That's terrible! But I didn't even know there was a vaccine against polio."
"It's not widely administered yet, and it's not very effective anyway. It's better than nothing, if it's made right. If it's made wrong, it's deadly."
"Can I help you prevent this disaster?"
"No, I can do it myself. And you'll be busy flapping those ridiculous trousers, so don't let me keep you." She threw the powder into the fire, said "London International Floo Terminal," and burned away in the green flames.
Tom didn't have much time to dwell on that conversation. He was about to call Dobby to Apparate him when he heard his father's knock at his office door. "Come in."
His father entered. "So," he said hopefully. "You spoke to Hermione."
"Yes," said Tom.
"All sorted then?"
"I'm working on it."
"Got any stock tips?"
"No. We must be patient. Now if you'll excuse me, my friends are expecting me."