The Riddle household was eating breakfast when Hermione started. "A Dark creature appeared in your office," she informed Tom as she set Tommy's porridge spoon down. Then she Apparated away.
"Mama?" called Tommy.
Tom's mother moved into Hermione's recently vacated chair and picked up the porridge spoon. "Would you like some more porridge, Tommy?"
Tom wiped his mouth and stood. "Have a good day at school, Mark." He hurried to his office to find Hermione and Dobby crouched by Eric, who lay on the floor. If injured people were going to keep Portkeying into Tom's office he should get a couch for them.
Eric lay there muttering, although it wasn't clear that he was conscious: "I believe I can fly I believe I can fly, so stupid, I shouldn't talk, I'll just say something stupid, I believe I can fly…"
"Finite Incantatem," cast Hermione, and Eric's muttering stopped. She sat back and took a deep breath, then glanced at Tom. "That one was easy, just a loose-lips jinx. I was expecting worse, considering the other curses."
Hermione and Dobby seemed done with their first aid, so Tom asked, "What happened?"
"I suspect the concussion was just from him hitting the floor when he arrived here," said Hermione. "That was easy to fix. The curses, though…" She shook her head. "Very sophisticated catatonia and apathy curses, hard to break. Someone wanted him helpless and docile, but talkative." Her worried look deepened. "He may have been interrogated. He's had enough rest, I think. We need to know what we've lost. Rennervate," she cast.
Eric jerked awake. "I believe I can fly I believe…" He looked around and trailed off. "Oh. It worked? The Portkey?"
"It worked," said Tom. "You're safe. Dobby, tea for our guest."
"Yes Master." Pop.
"What happened?" demanded Hermione, wand still in hand.
"I'm so stupid," said Eric.
"You got out alive," said Tom. "I dare say that took intelligence."
"Hermione's intelligence," said Eric, fishing a bedraggled black feather out of his sleeve. "This saved my life. Thank you."
Hermione took the feather and waved her wand over it to fix its various broken parts. "Saved you from what?"
"Aurors. You've seen those adverts from the Auror office, begging the public for information about the wards around the terrorist attack at the book signing?"
"You didn't," said Hermione.
"I did," said Eric. "Because I'm stupid. I know it was stupid now, but their cursebreakers are so desperate…" Eric couldn't look at Hermione, so he addressed his tale to Tom. "And I had lots of free time. I keep getting Floo-calls about protecting homes and businesses from werewolves. I had to set up a portrait at my Floo to tell them all I'm too busy to take on any more jobs, while I just sit around doing nothing, and I heard that request from the Auror office on the Wireless again, and…"
"You wanted to help," said Tom. "Of course. I'd have wanted to do the same, had I your skills to share." Tom didn't appreciate the skeptical look Hermione gave him over this. What? There was nothing unbelievable about wanting to show off a valued skill. Tom helped Eric up off the floor and into a wingback chair by the fire so he could drink his tea at the small table.
Eric, at least, found Tom's solidarity comforting. Dobby's tea helped too. "So I gave them a Floo-call, and they connected me with one of their cursebreakers, and she said she could tell I knew what I was talking about. She really knows her stuff. The Aurors are concerned because the wards around the werewolf targets seem similar to the ones around the bookshop during the Halloween attack, so they think the Halloween terrorists might be in league with the werewolves. I said I didn't know about that, but I could teach what I'd learned about the wards I broke at the bookshop, and she invited me to step through." Eric looked down in embarrassment. "I was just so excited to talk about runes and arithmancy with someone, I didn't think, so I stepped through the Floo, and…" He took a breath. "I felt the wards close around me as soon as I arrived, not just Dark-creature detection like you have here, but the detection triggered curses, catatonia and apathy… Beautiful warding work, really. I mean, I have to die of something eventually, and that would have been… When I realized how stupid I'd been, I couldn't talk, but they kept asking me all these questions, which just made it worse, and…" He needed to sip some more tea before continuing. "I remembered your Portkey, but I couldn't activate it because I couldn't talk, with everyone shouting at me. Then one of them cast a loose-lips jinx on me, so I could finally speak the Portkey activation phrase and then I woke up here."
"So you didn't actually tell them anything?" asked Hermione.
"No," despaired Eric. "I wanted to show them what I'd learned about the wards, but—"
"But they were not receptive to information from a werewolf," said Tom.
"Well. They were asking a lot of questions, like who was I, and why couldn't their anti-illusion field break my disguise, and—"
"Disguise?" repeated Tom.
"Yeah. They said my Lou Garou costume was really good, but disguising myself with unbreakable illusions was suspicious." He frowned, pulling his scarred face into an even harsher expression. "I noticed, in the book, the main character is described as looking an awful lot like me. I didn't say anything about what I look like in the parchments I gave to Miss Kettleburn, so I don't know where she got—"
"I'm afraid that's an unfortunate coincidence," said Tom. "So many werewolves volunteered their stories, just by chance, it was likely that her fictional character would look like one of them, and you happen to be the unlucky one her description matched."
Eric nodded sadly. "Anyway, it sort of helped, as they didn't believe this is what I really look like. And I didn't give them my name or anything, and I anonymized my Floo before I called from it, so they won't be able to trace that. But still, I was such an idiot—"
"You didn't do any harm," said Hermione. "And you got out with your life, which is the important thing."
"Sorry to arrive unannounced. I know that's rude. I'm supposed to call first."
"You are always welcome here, Eric," Tom assured him. "I really mean that. There's no need to stand on ceremony with us. And you did the right thing. You escaped with not just your life, but with valuable information. What did you learn about the anti-werewolf wards in the Auror office?"
"Well…"
Tom understood a few words, but he stepped back and let Hermione ask the relevant questions and take notes.
Once that ordeal was over, Eric had things to say about the people involved. "It was interesting talking with that Auror Department cursebreaker in the Floo-call, before I stepped through and triggered their Dark-detectors. She said her department had asked for more money to hire more cursebreakers to fight these werewolves. But the Wizengamot insists that werewolves are under the jurisdiction of the Werewolf Capture Unit of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, so the Aurors are getting nothing extra to fight them. In fact the Wizengamot told them to cease any investigation of werewolves, as being outside their jurisdiction. They're officially still working on investigating the Halloween attack, although they have noticed similarities between that and the full moon attacks."
"The Aurors seem like one of the Ministry's more functional departments," observed Tom. "Pity their hands are tied."
Eric abruptly stood. "I have an idea." He Apparated away.
Hermione and Tom looked at each other.
"What are the chances it's a good idea?" asked Tom.
Hermione shrugged. "I'll leave that arithmancy calculation to you." Then Hermione and Tom headed back down to the dining room to resume their breakfast.
Tom's father and Mark had left, but Tom's mother and Tommy were still there, having finished eating, but waiting for Hermione and Tom.
"Everything all right?" asked Tom's mother.
"Fine," said Hermione. "Tommy, did you miss me? Here I am. It's time to brush your teeth after all that jam. I'm sure some of it got in your mouth instead of just on your face."
"That can wait," said Tom. "Hermione, finish your breakfast."
She didn't take much convincing, but cast "Thermos" over her cold food and took a bite. Then she set down her porridge spoon to pick up her wand again and cast the same spell wordlessly at Tom's food, for her mouth was full. She swapped wand for spoon again and ate another spoonful without breaking her rhythm. And she called Tom a showoff!
Tom addressed his mother before resuming his breakfast, although the steam rising from it smelled appetizing. "Eric used Hermione's Portkey to escape from Aurors. He tried to answer their call for information about the Halloween attack, but things went wrong when he set off their Dark creature detector."
"How can anyone be so smart and so stupid at the same time?" grumbled Hermione.
"Are you referring to Eric, or to the Aurors who refused his help?" inquired Tom's mother.
Hermione mulled that over. "I suppose it applies equally to both."
"That's the usual state of being, for people," explained Tom's mother. "Intelligence and stupidity mixed in varying amounts." She looked at Tommy, who was trying to climb onto the table. "Tommy, I see you're eager to play, so let's go clean you up and do that. Enjoy your breakfasts, Hermione, Tom." She led Tommy away.
Tom picked up the newspapers, deemed their subject matter inconducive to digestion, and set them down again.
Hermione picked up the Prophet. "International Confederation of Wizards is stepping in," she observed. "We're up against more than just the British Ministry of Magic now." She was soon engrossed in the paper.
"Hm," said Tom.
Hermione set the newspaper down. "Awful things have happened when wizards have meddled with time." She sighed. "And witches."
"Witches are included in the word 'wizards,' so you might as well speak concisely."
Hermione shot a glare at him, then turned away as if he wasn't even worth glaring at. "I'm starting to think I made a terrible mistake. I mean, Tommy's doing fine, so I still think I'm right about that, but now with international Statute-keepers being diverted away from Grindelwald… I need to make plans." She got up and left.
Tom picked up the newspapers and took them to his office to read without attempting to eat at the same time.
The Prophet's front page story was tiresome.
"If only the Werewolf Capture Unit had adequate funding, we could have prevented this," said Durwin Mcnair, head of the Werewolf Capture Unit. "We had barely enough funds for some much-needed security improvements to our research centre. To hire more field agents, we'll need more."
The recent renovations to the Werewolf Capture Unit fortress ran considerably over budget…
Tom turned the page in disgust, flipping past adverts, ("Clearance sale! All Wolfware half price!" And of course the ubiquitous pleadings of the Auror department for information on the Halloween book shop attack, which was old news) until he found a different article:
ICW Considers Meddling in British Affairs
The International Confederation of Wizards met in Charnoy today to discuss the werewolf situation in wizarding Britain.
"The British Ministry of Magic has proven itself incapable of maintaining the Statute of Secrecy on its own," said Supreme Mugwump Anton Vogel. "Werewolf attacks on British muggles have become so common that muggles have started to invent potions to treat werewolf bites themselves! All magical nations must come to the aid of magical Britain now, in their hour of need. The Statute of Secrecy must be maintained."
The Supreme Mugwump faced opposition from other members of the Confederation.
"We can't let this distract us from the problem of Grindelwald…"
Tom set the newspaper down. He had to do something. He knew his father wouldn't allow him to spend any money on this, so he headed to the attic, lifting dusty sheets off of antique furniture that no longer suited their family's taste, but which his father has declared too good to get rid of. He found what he sought, then summoned Fiona so she could assist him in moving it. Tom supported most of the weight of course, but Fiona was helpful manipulating the bulky thing.
When Fiona opened the door to Tom's office, they were startled to find his father sitting at Tom's rolltop desk. Tom had closed and locked it, but of course his father had a key, enabling him to access Tom's papers as if he owned them, which, as the man of the house, he technically did.
His father was startled as well, looking up from the ledger he'd been studying. "Why are you carrying a Victorian fainting couch around? Is this your new calisthenics program? A medicine ball isn't heavy enough for you?"
Tom finished directing Fiona to position the couch against the wall, and thanked and dismissed her. Then he closed the door behind her and turned to address his father. "Hermione's feather Portkeys transport people to my office. They've transported several injured people from danger already. It seems likely that they will again, considering the increasing danger to our friends. I need to prepare, providing comfort to the injured while Hermione and Dobby provide healing." He looked at the couch in distaste. "I'll ask Dobby if he can do something about the cabbage roses."
His father huffed in annoyance. "I have something more important to discuss. You know what's happening. Our rental income has dropped to zero. This puts a damper on our finances. I can't continue to fund your Wolfsbane project."
Tom felt awkward standing to address his father, who sat at his ease, but sitting on the pink floral upholstery of the new addition to his office furniture would be even more undignified. He moved a wingback chair from the fire closer to his desk and sat on that. "The Wolfsbane project is in a challenging stage, yes. If we sell some more stocks—"
"Then we will have sunk even more money into this little project of yours, with no sign of any return on your investment."
Tom lowered his voice instinctively, as if that could prevent magical eavesdropping, although it probably didn't matter. He suspected that Hermione had little enough interest in him in general to bother listening in on this conversation in particular, so his privacy was all but assured. "You know I'm not expecting a return from Wolfsbane sales directly."
"I know, and that project's failing as well. What you're doing would not leave anyone with a good impression of your investment skills. Hermione will hardly think you worthy of more information from the future, considering what a mess you've made with the little she's doled out so far. If you want to flaunt your generosity, I'm sure you could find some other unfortunate wretches to receive your charity, without using any future knowledge whatsoever, and without triggering an international crisis. That's bound to leave a better impression on her than this. Now Tom, most of your investment decisions have paid off, but I'm wondering at what point you'll realize that in this case, you're just throwing good money after bad. It's time to cut our losses. Perhaps the error was mine in giving a mere youth such leeway, so now you need me to save you from your mistake. I'm not spending another shilling on this folly. If your customers can afford to pay for Wolsfbane production and the salaries of your werewolf employees, they need to start doing that now. Otherwise, the Wolfsbane project is over."
"But… Hundreds of people depend on that potion."
"That's not my responsibility."
"Isn't the antibiotics business—"
"Controlled trials cost money, scaling up production costs money. That project isn't in the black yet, but it's doing a damn sight better than yours. Only one of our medical projects is worth investing in, and it's the muggle one, not the magical one, whether we're looking at profit to be made or people to be helped. Tom, I can't support your nonsense anymore. You've only made things worse. Our tenants are dead because of you."
Tom couldn't argue with that, for it was terribly true. "But, all the werewolves depending on us. How can we tell them?"
"I leave that to you. You're good at talking; I'm sure you'll find some way to break the news." With that, his father got up and left.
Tom put the wingback chair back by the fire. Then he sat at his violated desk, returning things to their proper places. When he could trust his voice, he called "Dobby."
Pop. "Yes Master?"
Tom pointed. "The upholstery on that couch has an unfashionable pattern. Get rid of the cabbage roses."
"What should it look like instead, Master?"
"Black," decided Tom. "Just make the whole thing black. And I expect that injured people will lie on it, so charm it to repel dirt, blood and the like."
Dobby did a good job.
"Thank you," said Tom. "Is the change permanent?"
"If no one interferes with it, the new color will last as long as Dobby does, so it should last for centuries, Master."
Tom thanked and dismissed the elf. Then he sat and thought. He'd have to call a meeting, for conveying this information via letter or mirror-call would be terribly gauche. He considered telling Hermione in advance what information he'd have to reveal at the meeting, and why, but judged that her company would be more tolerable if he didn't, at least beforehand. Also, he wondered if she'd try to change his father's mind through magical methods. Tom was reasonably certain that a witch of her skill would be capable of magically compelling his father to donate his last shilling to this project. Tom considered the positives and negatives of that, and concluded that he was marginally more loyal to his family than to his friends, so he opposed such a violation of his father's mind. The most effective way to ensure that Hermione would not tamper with his mind was for her to learn the news at the same time as all the werewolf employees. They were making some advances in Occlumency, thanks to Tom's encouragement, so they would not be so easily Obliviated of the bad news Tom had to deliver. Hermione couldn't tamper with Tom's father's mind for money without their friends knowing that she was the sort of person who would tamper with people's minds for money. Tom had to hope that the shamefulness of this act would discourage Hermione from committing it, but frankly, he would understand if the werewolves considered this a net positive, considering the people who'd be helped by this magic-facilitated theft.
What if the werewolves called for a vote on whether or not to magically manipulate his father's mind in order to steal the remains of the Riddle fortune to spare werewolves from suffering? Well, if it looked like such a vote would go against him, Tom would recuse himself because of his conflict of interest. He would, however, suggest that, as long as they were planning to steal by such a method, they might as well pick a wealthier target. Squire Bosworth, for example, had not recently lost all his tenants, and would be able to sustain the Wolfsbane project for much longer than the Riddles could. Algie could probably support the project by redirecting the funds he typically allocated to champagne, to the benefit of hundreds of werewolves, as well as Algie's liver.
The werewolves, Tom knew, were unlikely to seriously consider such a suggestion. The recent fuss over werewolves violating the Statute, on top of the usual laws against the exploitation of muggles, meant that this would be a particularly tacky time to suggest committing that particular crime. If the werewolves were to steal from anyone, they'd steal from the Riddles, because it was less problematic, legally and ethically, to steal from their fellow wizards than from muggles.
Tom hoped it wouldn't come to that. The news he had to deliver was bad, yes, but not terrible. Werewolves had lived without Wolfsbane before, so they could do it again. Admittedly, they'd lived in a country that wasn't as adamantly anti-werewolf as it now was, in the wake of Tom's disastrous attempt at a public relations campaign, so they were considerably worse off than they'd been before. They could leave human society and join the peaceful feral packs. They wouldn't want anything to do with humans after Tom's announcement anyway, so they and Tom would come to an agreement to never see each other again.
The sun set early in February, filling his office with darkness, but Tom lacked the drive to turn on his electric light.
Finally, his mother knocked. "Tom? Are you in there?"
"Yes."
"You missed lunch. Your father said you were busy with work, but I don't want you to miss dinner too."
"Thank you. I'll be right out." He joined his mother and they walked towards the dining room.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
Tom shook his head. "Sorry. I have to schedule another meeting of all my werewolf employees, and finding a date that works for everyone is always such a tiresome chore."
His mother respected his privacy enough not to complain about this obvious lie, which was good, as Tom did not want to tell her that her husband had just doomed hundreds of people to nights of injurious torment.
A date that worked for everyone was in fact easy to find. His employees had few demands on their time, and they all understood the need for a meeting to discuss recent events. Daisy was the only one with any serious scheduling restrictions, for she was working on a deadline for some bespoke embroidery and couldn't take time off for a meeting until the morning of Friday, March 8.
Tom knew that Miss Vinter had already purchased the ingredients for March's Wolfsbane doses, so he might as well let her brew one last batch. These last free doses, plus the bad news, would be distributed to their customers March 19-25.
Tom's mother set about organizing a lunch to serve to their guests after the meeting as usual. "I know, I'll be frugal with the menu," she replied to Tom's father's grumble. "But we can't host a morning gathering without offering lunch afterwards. It wouldn't be proper."
There was no arguing with that.
Now Tom had only to wait a few days before the meeting. Those days took several years.
——
Tom looked out his office window and saw Ignis walking up the hill earlier than expected, but then Ignis stopped at the edge of the grounds and drew his mirror from his pocket. Tom felt his mirror buzz and opened it to see Ignis's worried face. "Ignis, is there a problem?" Tom asked.
"I was just wondering. Did you take down those new anti-werewolf security measures you installed for the last full moon yet?"
Hermione interposed herself between Tom's face and his mirror. "Of course we did."
"It's just, I'm a few minutes early, so I wanted to make sure I'm not so early that you haven't had time to—"
"I took them all down the day after the full moon," said Hermione. "Our wards are back to normal, only detecting Dark creatures, not repelling or harming them. There would be no point to my Portkeys taking you to Tom's office if the Riddle House wards didn't let you in. Eric had to use his Portkey just last week. You're fine."
"Oh!" said Ignis. "I'd assumed… Do you really think that's wise? I mean, Woolsey—"
"We can discuss this in person once you get here," said Tom, who was tired of craning his head around Hermione's hair to converse with Ignis.
"Right," said Ignis. "See you in a bit."
Hermione got out of the way of the mirror, so Tom closed and pocketed it.
Fiona knew to let Ignis in, and he soon made his way to Tom's office, where they exchanged greetings.
"Why did you come here early if you thought the Dark-creature-repellent wards might still be active?" asked Hermione.
"Well," said Ignis. "I kind of wanted to talk to Tom before everyone else got here." He looked to Tom. "That is, if you have time to talk. If you have any more preparations for the meeting to make I don't mean to interfere. Or I could help."
"I have servants handling that," said Tom.
"Of course," said Ignis.
"So what do you want to talk about?" prompted Tom.
"Well. I don't know if it's even right for me to ask this. I feel bad asking for another favor, since you've helped us so much already…"
"Out with it, man," snapped Tom.
"Well. It's just. I had this idea…"
The fire blazed green, marking the end of their private chat.
Eric stepped out of the Floo, first with his quiet dragonhide boot, then his silent peg.
Hermione turned to greet him, then looked confused. "Wait…"
"Who are you?" demanded Ignis, drawing his wand with duelist's speed and pointing it at Eric.
At first glance, Eric looked like Eric, with his usual flowing grey robes and scarred face, but now that Tom thought about it, that smirk was not a typical Eric expression at all, and it was only intensifying.
Tom drew his own wand and pointed it at not-Eric. "Explain yourself."
Not-Eric's smirk had grown to a haughty laugh by now. He held his hands out and open, making it clear that he wasn't drawing his wand, which made it convenient for Hermione to cast "Stupefy," dropping him to the floor with a thud. She soon had Not-Eric's wand in hand. She set it aside, then cast "Incarcerus," binding the imposter with ropes that wrapped around him like vines, reminding Tom disturbingly of the ropes that had bound their werewolf captives on Halloween. "Specialis Revelio," yielded no information to satisfy her, nor did "Specialis Revelio Maxima." She kept trying.
Briar and Bramble arrived next, stepping out of the Floo with grace, then stopping short at the sight of an unconscious Eric bound on the floor.
"Who the hell is that?!" exclaimed Bramble.
"And why does he look like Eric?!" added Briar.
That saved Tom the trouble of explaining the situation. In fact, as the rest of the werewolves arrived, they all exclaimed some variation of "Who is that?" rather than "Why is Eric tied up on the floor?" They immediately knew that this was an impostor.
Hermione was frustrated. "It's not Polyjuice," she reported.
"No illusions we can discern," said Bramble.
"This looks like Eric's wand," said Ignis, peering at it on the table on which Hermione had set it.
"Maybe it would tell us something if we cast Priori Incantatem on it?" suggested Daisy.
Tom addressed Ignis. "How did you know that wasn't Eric?"
"He's not a werewolf," said Ignis, seriously shaken. He kept staring at Not-Eric. "Lycanthropy is incurable. Whoever this is can't just show up looking like Eric, without being a werewolf, and expect anyone to believe it."
"And he didn't trigger our Dark-creature detector," added Hermione. "What's this?" she wondered, carefully levitating an amulet out from under Not-Eric's robes, pulling it off his neck by its grey silk cord.
All the werewolves in the room started.
"Eric!" cried Bramble, rushing to free him from the vine-like ropes.
Hermione looked up from the levitating amulet to meet Tom's gaze. "The Riddle House wards just reported the arrival of another Dark creature." She plucked the amulet out of the air and looked at it intently. It appeared to be made of brass, and was completely covered with inscribed symbols, too tiny for Tom to read. "It's this. It concealed the fact that Eric's a werewolf while he was wearing it."
Everyone stared at the amulet.
"I suppose we owe Eric an apology," said Bramble.
"He owes us one," countered Ignis. "Scaring us like that."
"Should I revive him?" offered Daisy.
"Wait," said Hermione. "It sounded like he hit the floor pretty hard when he fell. Let me heal any injuries first."
This was quickly done. Then Hermione levitated Eric, still unconscious, to the fainting couch, proving Tom's wisdom in placing it there.
"I'll talk to him," volunteered Tom.
"He needs to warn us if he's going to pull a trick like that," said Hermione.
"I assume he'll want to explain all about how he inscribed runes on that amulet," said Tom.
"Oh," said Hermione. "Yes, you talk to him." She handed Tom the amulet. "I'll revive him, though." She did so, because Tom was too busy reading the runes to draw his wand and revive Eric himself.
When Eric regained consciousness, Tom was sitting by his side, the amulet in his hands. "This is amazing," he said before Eric had time to say a word.
"You like it?" asked Eric nervously.
"Very much. You designed it yourself?"
"Yes! You see, I considered the commonalities of werewolf-detecting wards, and then back-translated them through an enchanted concave mirror…"
Tom let Eric's words wash over him like a symphony.
After a while, Tom felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder. "We're heading to the solarium. Join us when you're ready."
Tom nodded. The room cleared. Eventually, Tom said, "I'd love to hear more, but you're sounding a bit parched. Won't you join us for tea?"
"Oh. Yes, right. Thank you."
Tom put the amulet in his pocket and led Eric to the solarium.
"We're just about done discussing anything important," said Hermione, "but we'll fill you in on what you missed."
"Thank you," said Tom, pouring tea for Eric and himself.
Hermione checked the notes she'd taken, then called on the werewolves to repeat their reports, starting with "Briar and Bramble."
"We're done searching for new customers in wizarding areas," Briar reported.
Bramble explained. "The only werewolves we found recently were Woolsey's agents, trying to recruit us to join his pack, and even they kept getting rarer, with all the anti-werewolf measures around these days."
"And a former Wolfsbane customer tried to recruit us to Woolsey's pack," said Briar. "That was disappointing."
"What?" exclaimed Tom.
"Yeah," said Bramble. "She didn't recognize us of course, since we always wear different faces to go out. Apparently Woolsey's message appealed to her. All that, 'Humans don't want you, the pack is where you belong' stuff got through with enough repetitions I suppose. And, well, the idea that humans don't want us is seeming pretty believable these days."
"So she was out spreading the good news that we'd be accepted in the pack," continued Briar. "Woolsey promises us community and acceptance, then sends his recruits on suicide missions." He shuddered. "We already told Pennyroyal how many customers don't want Wolfsbane potion anymore."
Pennyroyal held up a piece of parchment with numbers. "I told Ignis to pass these numbers along to Miss Vinter so she knows how much to reduce production."
"You mean we've lost more than one customer?" asked Tom.
"We've lost nearly half," said Pennyroyal.
"What?!" exclaimed Tom.
"I'll find them again!" exclaimed Harrier. "The peaceful feral packs, if they're out there somewhere, I'll find them!"
"What?!" exclaimed Tom again.
"I'd hoped we could present the peaceful packs as an alternative to joining Woolsey, to customers who can't live with humans anymore," said Daisy, "But we can't find them. We don't know what happened to them. If the Werewolf Capture Unit found them, or if Woolsey decided to get rid of his competition…"
Brownwing cleared his throat. "Maybe they don't want to be found, by anyone."
"They may have hidden their location with a Fidelius charm," said Hermione. "That would make them unfindable."
"Can't blame them," said Brownwing. "But anyway, we have no way to get Wolfsbane potion to them now. Less work for us, right?" he looked around the room in search of cheerful agreement, but found none, not even from Tom, who had numbers tumbling around in his head. Reducing their customer base by half didn't reduce their expenses by half, as Miss Vinter's and the werewolves' salaries were fixed costs, but still, a sizable expense had just vanished. What would his father think of that? He'd grumble that it wasn't good enough, Tom knew.
Hermione scanned her notes. "So, that's what Tom and Eric missed. Now all there is to discuss is Eric's amulet."
Tom drew it from his pocket and held it up for all to see. He looked to Eric to see if he was ready to make a speech about it, then spoke for him. "Eric invented this marvelous amulet. As you experienced yourselves, it conceals all Dark creature auras, making them undetectable by wards or werewolves."
"Did you make just the one?" asked Pennyroyal.
"Well, to start, yeah," said Eric. "Took the better part of a week, inscribing all those tiny runes. I could make more, though, enough for all the werewolves here. You could all be safe from detection."
"I could go to shops again!" exclaimed Pennyroyal. "I could visit my accounting clients in person, instead of trying to work by owl, which is so awkward."
"May I try it?" asked Ignis.
Tom looked at Eric, who said "Sure," so Tom handed the amulet over.
Ignis lowered the grey silk cord over his head and started. "Weird." He slowly took it off and put it on a few more times.
"Yeah, feels weird, doesn't it?" said Eric proudly.
"What does it feel like?" asked Tom.
"When I'm wearing it, I can't tell who's a werewolf," said Ignis, looking troubled.
"Of course," said Eric. "It blocks all Dark creature auras, both ways. I couldn't figure out a way to block only one direction."
"So the wearer is safe from detection by wards and other werewolves, but can't sense who's a werewolf?" asked Daisy.
"That's less useful than I was hoping," said Briar.
"At least you'll be safe from humans with this," said Daisy.
Briar shook his head. "We have Hermione's feather Portkeys. Those keep us safe."
"Without making us useless," added Bramble.
"It's easy enough for us to don different faces every time we go out," said Briar.
"So if we set off an alarm and Portkey to safety, we've lost nothing."
"I was hoping someone would find it useful," said Eric. "I mean, I won't, since it's really hard to notice even slightly Dark runes through these."
"What?" asked Hermione.
"I mean, visible ones, I can read fine, like always," said Eric. "But invisible ones, like over the door there," he gestured, "it's like they're muffled when I'm wearing this." He reached out for the amulet, so Ignis handed it back. Eric put it on and took it off a few more times, while peering intently at, seemingly, the decorative molding over the doorframe. "Yeah, I shouldn't wear this most of the time. It makes me pretty much useless as a cursebreaker if I can't sense Dark rune effects."
"What?" asked Harrier. She grabbed the amulet from Eric's yielding hand and tried it. "I don't notice anything different about the door. The people, yes, but not the door."
"Well yeah, you're not a cursebreaker," said Eric. "So you're losing a lot less when you wear this. I'll make copies of this for all the other werewolves here, though. Please, wear them. They'll keep you safe. Who wants this one?" He held it out.
The werewolves looked at each other. Finally Pennyroyal stood. "If no one else wants it." She reached across the table for it.
"You won't notice if someone from Woolsey's pack is sneaking up on you," said Brownwing.
Pennyroyal froze, fingers inches from the amulet.
"Woolsey might be a greater threat to his fellow werewolves than to humans at the moment," observed Tom. "If you seem like just another human to them, you're not particularly noteworthy other than as potential prey on a full moon, and you stay home on full moons anyway."
"If anyone in his pack recognizes our faces, though, that could be a problem," said Brownwing.
"Have you met them?" asked Tom. The members of Woolsey's pack who'd died in their attack on Ignis didn't count.
"They'd definitely recognize Eric and me, and Briar and Bramble's usual faces, since we found their camp," said Ignis.
"And," said Brownwing, "we don't know what happened to those missing peaceful packs. They know my face, and Harrier's real one. If some of them joined Woolsey…"
"Ask Briar and Bramble for help donning a new face," Tom advised Brownwing for both protective and aesthetic reasons. They should work on his clothes while they were at it.
Pennyroyal sat down again, amulet untouched. "I can't meet with old clients or old friends while wearing a new face."
"I hoped this could help me get back to business as a Dark creature exterminator," said Ignis, "but if it takes away my ability to sense Dark creatures…" He looked at Eric. "So when it comes to lethifolds and boggarts and such, while wearing this, I'd have no more awareness of them than a human would?"
Eric nodded.
"There are human exterminators," said Harrier.
"Yes, but they tend not to live very long," said Ignis. He addressed Daisy. "You should wear it. You could meet with clients, deliver your work in person. Woolsey's unlikely to order bespoke embroidery."
Daisy looked down at her gloved hands. "I'm used to doing everything by owl already. And I don't think my aunt would want me going out, with or without this amulet."
"It would be nice to be able to go out to different pubs again," mulled Harrier. "But I wouldn't say I need to. I'll take an amulet if you have extra, but I'm fine without, really. Between my feather Portkey and the illusions Briar and Bramble taught me, I feel safe enough already."
"If no one else wants it, I'll take it," said Brownwing, finally relieving Eric of the heavy amulet he'd been holding out all this time. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," said Eric.
"You should make another for yourself," said Tom. "You must wear it whenever you're in public."
"Well, like I said—"
"I heard what you said and I'm arguing with it."
"Oh. But if I can't sense Dark magic, I can't work."
"If you're caught by the Werewolf Capture Unit, you won't be able to work either."
"Yeah." Eric looked sad. Then he asked, "I know why Ignis knew something was weird when I first showed up wearing this, but what made you suspicious? I should have seemed just the same to you."
"I was just trusting Ignis's judgment," said Tom. "Anyway, please make some more of those amulets, although there's no rush. Moving on, there are two more items I want to discuss. First, Briar and Bramble, I have an additional task for you. I hope I'm not overburdening you, but your ability to pass for muggles is useful."
Briar and Bramble assured him that they were happy to help.
"I'm concerned about the safety of Professor Waxwigge," said Tom.
"Who?" asked Ignis.
"The muggle healer who figured out how to seal werewolf bites, said Briar. "It was on the muggle wireless, and the muggle newspapers, and then even in the Prophet. He's a brilliant researcher, tried all sorts of treatments for those bites until he eventually discovered that a mix of silver and dittany works. Don't you pay attention to the news?"
"Well," said Ignis. "The news recently has all been…" He looked at Tom sharply. "He couldn't have thought of this himself. That's what you did with the dittany you bought from my mother?"
Tom cleared his throat. "Professor Waxwigge already had a reputation for inventing effective cures for many diseases, through entirely muggle methods. I'm sure he would have figured out this treatment on his own eventually, with access to the right ingredients. He already had the powdered silver, so he was halfway there."
"Thanks," said Ignis faintly. He shot a guilty look at Daisy, who was staring at him. "I just didn't want those poor helpless muggles suffering. They're almost like neighbors."
"You're saying you put Tom up to this?" Pennyroyal yelled at Ignis. "If Tom gets arrested for violating the Statute—"
"There's no Statute violation, so we have nothing to worry about," said Tom. "Just look at Professor Waxwigge's reputation. One more treatment is a drop in the bucket compared to everything else he's invented. The attitude of the muggle reporters was 'of course this genius invented yet another wonder drug.' He's had to work hard to fight the assumption that all the bitten muggles are cured. At least their suffering is lessened, but at the next full moon… Anyway, the point is, my actions to relieve the suffering of our tenants had the effect of bringing Professor Waxwigge to the attention of the magical press. That means even Woolsey may be aware of his existence. If Woolsey decides to target this prominent muggle at the next full moon…" Another death would be Tom's fault. "We have to have some sort of protection in place before then."
"What sort of protection?" asked Eric.
"I was thinking of a fairly simple one," said Tom. "I'll introduce Briar and Bramble, in their muggle disguises, to the professor as friends of mine. I'll explain that they'll serve him as bodyguards for the evening of March 25, when we anticipate the possibility of an attack. I'm sure he'll understand the necessity of this, and Briar and Bramble are so personable he should have no objection to their company."
"Bodyguards?" repeated Bramble. "Once we transform, what do you think the two of us, clumsy on Wolfsbane, could do against a whole pack of—"
"Of course I'm not asking you to fight Woolsey's pack," said Tom. "All you need do is patrol around Professor Waxwigge's vicinity. If you detect any werewolves before moonrise, Portkey the professor to my office immediately. If you don't, Portkey to my office yourselves at the last minute before moonrise."
Pennyroyal gasped through clenched teeth, hissing.
"Yes, that would be a blatant Statute violation," conceded Tom, "but no worse than this muggle being bitten by werewolves. I prefer to violate the Statute in a way that doesn't kill him. And I'll Obliviate him afterwards, so he won't even remember his magical transportation."
Hermione looked at him.
"We'll do it," said Briar.
"Gladly," said Bramble.
"Thank you," said Tom.
Briar looked troubled. "You called me personable, but that's because you're a wizard. I don't know if I can fake being a muggle convincingly enough to fool a famously smart—"
"You'll do fine," Tom assured him.
"I'll certainly try," said Briar. "The man's life is at stake. Me making a fool of myself by getting some bit of muggle trivia wrong in casual conversation hardly matters in the grand scheme of things."
"If you'd feel better," said Tom, "after a brief introduction, I could explain to the professor that your task will be to patrol the outer perimeter, while Bramble stays close to him. Actually that would work well for practical reasons too. Should you detect werewolves anywhere on the Oxford campus, you'll Portkey away from them immediately, then mirror-call Bramble to tell him to follow you with the professor. We'll all meet in my office."
"Where we'll transform into clumsy wolves in front of a wizard and a muggle," said Briar.
"Better than transforming into agile wolves," said Bramble.
"Should you escape early enough before moonrise, you'll have time to go somewhere else, via Apparition, Floo, or simply walking down the hill to Ignis's house, for a more private transformation," said Tom.
"I have extra cells in the basement," offered Ignis.
"Right," said Briar. "Well, the potential for embarrassment is high, but I suppose that's worth it to lower the potential for death."
Hermione made a note of Briar and Bramble's new assignment, then scanned her parchment. "What else is there to discuss?"
Daisy turned to Ignis. "Did you ask?"
Ignis shook his head.
Daisy lowered her voice to be even softer than usual and leaned closer to Ignis. "I thought you were going to—"
"There wasn't time," muttered Ignis. "We got interrupted by Eric."
"Sorry," said Eric.
"It's fine," said Ignis.
"I know I'm always interrupting people and saying the wrong thing and stuff, so I'm really sorry—"
"Ignis was glad of the interruption since he didn't actually want to ask me this mysterious question," explained Tom, to Eric's confusion. "Ignis, no matter how unpleasant this question will be to hear, it can't possibly be as annoying as this wait to hear it. Just ask your question already and be done with it."
Ignis took a deep breath. "Well… we've been talking." He looked around the room at the other werewolves, who generally looked down rather than meeting his gaze. He looked back to Tom. "You see, lots of landlords are installing anti-werewolf wards these days, so werewolves are running out of places to live. Briar and Bramble say they should move into muggle neighborhoods, but many aren't comfortable with that. I mean, the idea of living on muggle property, paying rent to muggles… But they have nowhere else to go, besides the feral packs, and the tolerable ones have disappeared. Some of us were thinking, your family's harboring me already, and the penalty for harboring multiple werewolves can't be much worse than for harboring just one, so… Never mind. I'm sorry I asked. You're doing so much already, I shouldn't—"
"That is an excellent idea," said Tom. "Especially as we will soon have an empty village to fill." Tom paused to leave room for the gasps of his audience. "I trust they will pay rent?"
"Of course!" said Ignis. "Any werewolves still trying to live in civilization have figured out some way to support themselves, owl-order enchanting and the like, or even working in the muggle world. They just need a safe place to live, preferably in a wizarding district."
Tom nodded, the final numbers in his equation fitting neatly into place. "Good. That's all settled then. Let's have lunch."
"I thought you said you had one more topic to discuss," said Hermione.
"No," said Tom. "That's it. Excuse me a moment. I'll meet up with you in the dining room." Tom darted ahead to speak with his father privately and explain why lunch would be a happier event than anticipated. Tom's father was even welcome to join them, although he'd already made other plans, the coward. The Wolfsbane project would be in the black by next month. Tom had won.
——-
A week before the full moon, Tom waited by the holly bush where he'd arranged to meet Briar and Bramble. Students walked past, many wearing Oxford bags, ample fabric swinging with every step.
Four such generously-clad legs approached Tom. "Hi Tom."
"Bramble!" exclaimed Tom, shifting his gaze from clothes to faces. "And Briar! Well done! I almost didn't recognize you." They looked younger than usual, indistinguishable from the students roaming the campus.
"You really think it's convincing?" asked Briar. "I'm not sure about the shirt."
Bramble rolled his eyes. "He changed his shirt about a dozen times before I had enough and dragged him out of the flat. Briar, you look perfect. I can hardly even see the shirt under the jacket, and it's fine anyway."
"I just feel like I forgot an important detail," fretted Briar.
"You're not a seer, you're just a fussbudget." Bramble turned to Tom. "Now introduce us to this genius. Use our muggle aliases, Brian Sinomine and Randall Godfrey."
Tom nodded and led them to Professor Waxwigge's office, where introductions were quickly accomplished.
"I must say, I'm surprised by your appearance," said Professor Waxwigge, causing poor Briar to nearly melt into a puddle of embarrassment on the floor.
"What do you mean?" asked Bramble.
"When Mr. Riddle said I needed bodyguards, I wasn't expecting him to hire a couple of Oxford students. And won't your guarding duties interfere with your classes?"
Tom and Bramble enjoyed a hearty laugh, joined later by Briar's nervous titter. "They are not students," Tom explained. "Disguise is one of their skills. They chose these clothes as camouflage for this environment. I'm glad to hear that their disguises fool even a native."
"Oh!" exclaimed Professor Waxwigge. "In that case, they're perfectly convincing disguises."
"Thank you," said Briar. He looked around at the professor's office. "So do you do all your work here, or elsewhere? We don't want to interfere with your work; we'll just keep all areas you frequent under surveillance."
"I'm here sometimes, but more often in my laboratory. I'll give you a tour." Thus, the professor led them through his usual haunts: laboratory, café, meeting room, washroom, and so on.
"I think that's it," concluded Professor Waxwigge once he'd completed his circuit and led them back to his office.
"Thank you for the tour," said Briar.
"Thank you for your help," said the professor. He still looked worried. "I saw the victims of the previous two attacks firsthand, and I've seen photographs of the devastation in Little Hangleton. I can't help but wonder what two men could do against a force like that."
"I assure you that these men are more than qualified for the job," said Tom.
"But what could they—"
Tom put his hand up in a silencing gesture. "I give you my word that with these two guarding you, you will be perfectly safe."
Professor Waxwigge clearly wasn't satisfied, but stopped arguing.
"I'd like to walk around campus some more," said Briar, "to fix all the details of your routine in my mind, seek out potential hiding spots that might conceal our enemies, and so on. It was an honor to meet you, Professor Waxwigge."
"Yes," said Bramble. "Now we won't take up any more of your valuable time. Good day."
"Thank you for your help. Good day."
"Good day," said Tom, and the three of them left.
"Now you see that all your worry was for nothing," said Bramble, laughing at Briar. "You're really much better at passing for muggle than you think you are."
Briar waggled his head noncommittally. "I didn't say anything embarrassing this time. Now come on, let's see where Woolsey's pack might gather before moonrise."
Tom bade them farewell and walked towards the British Wizarding Library, although once he was out of Briar and Bramble's sight, he found a secluded spot from which to call Dobby to Apparate him home.
He sat at his desk to calculate exactly what a mess their finances were in. Many of their human tenants were still alive, and would be until March 25, so the werewolves couldn't move in until some time after the muggles' belongings, sparse as they were, had been removed by relatives.
Bramble abruptly appeared in Tom's office. He looked around the office frantically, his Oxford bags swishing.
Tom hurriedly closed his rolltop desk while asking "Are you hurt?"
"No, when we felt the anti-Apparition jinx, we both said the Portkey activation phrase at the same time," but Bramble's search of Tom's office didn't reveal the other component of that "we." He blanched. "Briar changed his shirt about a dozen times," he realized. "And then I got impatient and dragged him out of the flat. He didn't transfer his Portkey to his new shirt." He looked at Tom, his face horrified, pale. "They must have got him."