When the Floo network spit Hermione out at Nona Ashland's house, she thought an impossible mistake had happened. She emerged into the middle of a grassy clearing with trees spreading out in all directions around her. She turned around and was half-surprised to see the fireplace behind her, then noticed an odd distortion in the skyline, as though the moving clouds were coming together in the corner of a room. That must be it; this room had been enchanted to look like the outdoors. And a marvelous enchantment it was, too. It even smelled like a forest: pine needles, thick grass, and rich earth.
A door opened high in the wall to her left, and the air beneath it rippled and transformed into a staircase. A woman's voice, crackled with age, called out, "Why don't you come upstairs?"
Hermione climbed the stairs into a neat sitting room. Beside the door stood a white-haired woman, shrunken with age until she barely came up to Hermione's shoulder.
"You must be Mrs. Ashland," Hermione said, extending her hand.
The grip that Mrs. Ashland returned was anything but the feeble delicateness that Hermione expected. The elderly lady shook once, very primly, before letting go. "That's right. Prof. Granger, I presume?" Hermione nodded. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable? I've got some lunch set up."
Hermione followed her to the two well-worn armchairs near the fireplace, looking around. Photographs coated the walls, some yellowed with age while others shone with bright modern colors. "Are these all pictures of your family?"
"That's right." Nona couldn't quite contain the pride in her voice as she added, "Four generations living."
"Wow, that's impressive." Hermione lowered herself into an armchair beside a side table with another framed portrait on it. The boy pictured was dressed in shorts and bouncing a Muggle soccer ball with his knees, and every few bounces he stopped to wave. A flash of white on his leg caught Hermione's attention. His left calf didn't match the rest of him; it shone bone-white against his tanned skin. A stain was her first thought, but nothing else was bleached out. Curiously, she picked it up and peered at it, trying to figure it out.
"That's my great-grandson, Mike," Nona said, setting a plate with a sandwich beside Hermione. "His father is a Muggle and has gotten him obsessed with that game they play instead of Quidditch. Feetball, I think it's called?"
"I'm sorry if this is rude to ask, but is there something unusual about his leg?" Hermione asked, putting the picture down.
Nona nodded. "He has an implant."
"What happened?"
"Fenrir Greyback ate his leg." Hermione gasped and put her hand to her mouth. "Mike may have been the first child Greyback bit after he developed a taste for blood."
"Did he bite many like…" She jerked her head towards the photo. "That?"
"Not that I know of," Nona said, sitting down. "He stopped going after children after that poor Montgomery boy, so there was Mike, that boy, and in between I think he took a little girl from a family the Death Eaters captured. Yes, that's right. He sent her off to Celeste's pack after the full moon, and Celeste sent back a message that if she had to clean up his mess again, she'd do it for keeps. I'm sure he took that with grace and poise. I've always wondered about him during the first war, though. There must have been some reason those kids ran away from him."
"Whoa, wait. His kids ran away?"
"None of them have told you that story, I take it?" Hermione shook her head. "No surprise there. Not many of them will say anything against him, even now. But his kids showed up on my doorstep a few weeks before the whole thing ended."
The doorbell rang again, not constantly, but with incessant regularity. Every 30 seconds, the usually pleasant 'Ding-dong' cut through the nighttime silence like a sword, until finally Nona pulled herself out of bed and put on her bathrobe. The bell rang several more times as she made her way down the steps and to the front door, the front hall brightening at her entrance.
She looked out the small window set in the door and started. A group of children were huddled together on her porch.
"What are you kids doing out here?" Nona asked, opening the door.
The oldest girl looked at her with wide yellow eyes. "Please, Mrs. Ashland, can we come in?"
"Of course! You must be half frozen." She ushered them into the sitting room, which brightened at their entry, and started a fire burning in the fireplace. The children jostled their way to it, the older kids making sure the younger ones got close enough as they all rubbed their hands together to warm up.
"Now, what in the world—" Nona stopped short as she caught sight of the oldest boy. The entire left side of his face was bruised, the skin a mottled red beginning to turn purple.
"Please, Mrs. Ashland," the oldest girl said, taking her arm. The bruised boy looked away, belatedly hiding the injury. "We need somewhere safe to stay, and I hear you're always good for a favor to other werewolves."
Other werewolves. Nona took a good look at the girl and could see it. Black and blond strands sprinkled through soft, fur-like hair, pronounced canines, the yellow color of her eyes. Nona glanced at the other children and saw similar signs scattered throughout them. "You're Greyback's bunch, aren't you?"
The girl froze, then nodded tightly.
"Finally got himself killed, did he?" The girl shook her head slowly. Raising an eyebrow, Nona glanced at the boy with the bruise. "Did Greyback hit that boy?"
"Fenrir's sick or something. Something's wrong with him; he's changed. He never would have done it before, not in a million years." She shook her head furiously to emphasize her words, her hair flying back and forth. "I knew we couldn't stay. I don't know what he'll do next. But I don't know what we should do next, either. We need help, and I don't know what to do."
"Shh," Nona soothed, pulling her into a hug. She buried her face in Nona's shoulder. "You've been through a lot tonight, I imagine. I'll give you what help I can." She glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece; three o'clock. Not a good time for children to be up. Not a good time for anyone to be up, truth be told. "First thing's first. You all must be exhausted, so let's find you someplace to sleep."
Nona stepped toward the staircase, but none of the children moved to follow her. Instead, they all turned fearful, expectant eyes toward the eldest girl, and one boy crept toward her. She put an arm around him protectively. "First, promise you won't call the Ministry."
"Beg pardon?"
"Promise you won't turn us over to the Ministry of Magic, or we'll leave again."
"But where will you go?"
"I don't know," the girl admitted, "but we won't go to people who will hurt us."
A gentle, grandmotherly smile touched Nona's lips. "What makes you think the Ministry will hurt you?"
The little boy clinging to the girl looked up, and she nodded. With a hard swallow, he stepped in front of her, staying within the reach of her arms, and pushed back the fringe of his hair. Three red burn scars blazed on his forehead, each as sharp as a knife cut. Once he was sure Nona had seen them, he held out his arm and rolled up the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Tiny circular burn scars littered the inside of his forearm as though done with a red-hot needle. Finally, he lifted his shirt. The same circular burn scars covered his abdomen, and over his heart was a red cross, as though it had been branded into his skin.
"His parents did that, trying to cure him," the girl said. "He lost his voice to it, too. He's the worst, but most of us have scars like that for the same reason. If you give us to the Ministry, they'll send everyone back to those same people, and I won't let that happen. We'll go back to Fenrir first. I don't know what he'll do next, but that's better than knowing for sure that someone will hurt us."
Nona stepped forward to examine the scars, but the boy jumped back and threw his arms around the girl. She wrapped him in a protective embrace, looking at Nona suspiciously.
If that little boy's parents had indeed given him those scars, Nona had no intention of returning him to them, no matter what sort of trouble it brought her. Besides, the Ministry didn't care two figs about a bunch of werewolf children under the best of circumstances, and right now they didn't care about anything except Death Eaters and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
"I'll promise you this," Nona said. "I won't let anyone take you if I think they'll hurt you, and that includes your birth parents, and Mr. Greyback, and the great Merlin himself if he were to walk in that door looking for trouble. Now, do you kids want to go to bed, or what?"
A wave of relief broke over the children, and they gladly followed her up the stairs.
The next morning, Nona was up at her normal early time. She went down to the kitchen, and to her surprise, found the eldest girl at the table sealing a letter with wax.
"Aren't you tired?" she asked.
"I wanted to get this written," the girl said, pressing her bracelet into the wax as a makeshift seal.
"What is it?"
"A letter to my boss. I'm an apprentice curse-breaker."
"You're a little young for that, aren't you?"
The girl shrugged. "I was a junior curse-breaker, for treasures with locks that can only be opened by a kid, but once you turn 13, you're too old for that. Gringotts doesn't use apprentices very much—we're neither here nor there as curse-breakers go—but…" She trailed off, then looked at Nona. "Mrs. Ashland, we added it up last night, and we don't have very much money with us. But—"
Nona put her wizened hand on top of the girl's. "Honey, you don't have to worry about that. As long as you're staying with me, I'll take care of you."
"But that'll be awfully expensive, won't it?"
Nona shook her head. "I'm not rich, but I'm well settled. As long as we aren't frivolous, things will be just fine." She paused, then asked, "Did Mr. Greyback make all of you work?"
"No, he doesn't make any of us do anything! I wanted to help."
"Did a lot of you want to help?"
The girl clamped her lips shut and sat stiffly for a long moment. "He's not a bad person, Mrs. Ashland. He's not using us or anything like that. You can ask any of us. We'll all tell you the same thing."
"I'm sure you will." Nona patted her hand and reached for the letter. "You won't need to worry about your apprenticeship while you're here, so why don't I throw that away for you?"
The girl pulled it back towards her chest protectively. "Would you mail it anyway, just in case?"
Nona studied the look in her eyes and the way she held her body, then sat down in a kitchen chair beside her. "That depends. What's really in it?"
"Just what I said, a note to my boss."
"And?"
The girl looked down at the letter, then across the room, avoiding Nona's eyes. "And a letter to Fenrir. I'm not telling him where we are or anything like that, I promise. I'm just letting him know we're safe. He's got to be frantic, and I don't want him to worry. If I send it to my boss, the goblins will get it to him without him knowing where it came from."
"Sounds like you've got it all worked out."
The girl nodded. "So can I mail it?"
"I'll have my owl fly it over for you, if you'll trust me not to open it."
With another nod, the girl handed it to her. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Ashland."
"You're welcome, dear, but if you're going to stay for a while, why don't you call me 'Nona'? And I'll need to know your names."
The girl sat stiffly, playing with her bracelet to avoid looking into Nona's eyes. Nona reached over and rested a hand on her arm. "It doesn't have to be your full name, if you're afraid of what I might do with it. But I've got to call you something. How about just a first name?"
Still the girl avoided her eyes. "It's Roma."
"Roma?!" Hermione blurted out.
"Know her, do you?" Nona asked. Hermione nodded. "I take it she's never mentioned this?"
"No, she never even hinted."
"Greyback's kids are pretty protective of him. Roma as much as any. She wants those youngsters of hers to remember the good parts, not the bad."
"Did something like this happen again, like during the second war?"
Nona shrugged. "If it did, they didn't come to me. But there were enough packs by then that they wouldn't have to."
"So what happened while the kids were with you?"
"Not much. A few days in, I got a letter from Greyback. I don't know how he found them, but I'm not surprised he did. I didn't tell the kids. To be honest, it didn't say much, just that he hoped I wouldn't give the kids to anyone who would hurt them. He asked me to tell them he loved them, and that if things went as he hoped, everything would be worth it in the end."
"Do you have any idea what he meant by that?"
"I've got my suspicions, and I imagine it had something to do with the Death Eaters. Everyone knows he was running with them during the second war, and I can tell you with complete confidence it was the same during the first. He must have spent some time with them after You-Know-Who vanished, looking for him, because it was several weeks before he showed up at my place."
Nona glanced at the clock as the doorbell rang. Almost 10 PM. Rather late, but it wouldn't be the first time someone made a late visit to ask for a favor. She glanced up the stairs and saw a few kids peeking around the corner at the top. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it. Go on and get ready for bed."
As their footsteps faded away, she looked out the small window in the door, and her mouth screwed up into a scowl. A man stood outside, dressed in a dark wool coat over a suit. He would have looked like a businessman if not for the ponytail at the nape of his neck, but Nona recognized the features, the hint of fangs pressing on his lower lip: Fenrir Greyback.
Nona opened the door just enough to face him. "You're not welcome here."
"I imagine not," he said, "but I would like to come in and talk to my children."
At the sound of that distinctive raspy, growly voice of his, footsteps pounded across the upper floor, screeching to a halt just short of the corner. Nona didn't dare glance up at them, but she knew the children were gathered there, peeking around the corner with a combination of fear and longing.
Greyback couldn't resist stealing a look at them before returning his eyes to Nona's face with a Herculean effort. "It'll only take a few minutes, Mrs. Ashland."
"I think you should leave. Now."
"I'm sorry to be impertinent, ma'am, but I would like them to decide that."
"They already have."
"I want to talk to him." Roma's voice cut through the air as she eased down a few steps. A smile spread across Greyback's face until he caught himself and swallowed it back down. "Please, Nona, please let me, just for a few minutes."
Nona glanced at the girl as she slunk down another step, then back to Greyback.
"I don't mean to rush you, Mrs. Ashland," he said, "but if I were seen standing on your doorstep, it would not bode well for any of us."
Nona glanced at Roma one more time, then let out an annoyed sigh. "If I say no, she'll just sneak out to find you. You two might as well be warm while you talk." She opened the door and pointed to the adjoining sitting room. "There's two chairs by the fire."
"Thank you very much." He nodded in acknowledgement to her, smiled at Roma, and walked toward the mantle.
Once he was past, Roma hurried down the rest of the steps and grabbed Nona's arm. "Nona, will you stay close, just in case? Maybe in the kitchen?"
"Of course. I'll do whatever you want me to, Sweetie."
As they walked across the sitting room, Nona put a hand on Roma's shoulder, not guiding her but letting her know she wasn't alone. Roma paused across from the mantle to let Nona continue to the kitchen, then turned and slowly, very slowly, walked toward the two armchairs. Greyback was already seated in one, but Roma did not sit down. She stayed standing beside it, as though she feared she would have to make a swift escape.
Greyback smiled at her. "You look very nice, Roma. That's a very pretty robe."
"It's a little old-fashioned," Roma said, playing with the hem of a sleeve to avoid his eyes. "It belonged to one of Mrs. Ashland's daughters when she was my age."
"You look lovely nonetheless." Greyback reached toward her, but she shrank from his touch. "Sweetness, I'm not angry with you. Just the opposite. I know I scared you very badly; I scared myself, too. If you thought you were in danger, you did the right thing by taking the little ones somewhere safe. But you can be safe with me again. Won't you please give me a second chance?"
She stared at the carpet, biting her lower lip. "How do I know?"
"He's gone, Sweetheart. They're all gone. I won't be doing anything else for them. Things will be just like they were before." A long silence passed between them. "Won't you at least look at me?"
Roma raised her head, but she didn't look at him. She looked past him, to the staircase railing behind him. The other children crept down it, eager to hear what he said, desperately hoping it was true.
Greyback must have guessed what she was looking at, but he continued nonetheless. "My Treasure, I will do whatever you ask to convince you, give you whatever proof you want. I'll even take a Moon Oath, if you want it."
She looked him in the eye, her face screwing up with tears, and croaked: "I want it."
"I swear by the moon, my word more binding than sleep, that I will never intentionally hurt one of you kids as long as you live with me."
The words had barely left his lips before Roma darted forward and threw her arms around his neck. He caught her, squeezing her tightly, and the other children cascaded down the stairs in an avalanche of bodies. They threw themselves at him, and for several minutes, all their voices blended together as everyone tried to hug everyone else at once.
At last, Greyback's laugh rose above the din. "All right, why don't you all go get your things? If we get home quickly, we may have time for a story yet tonight."
As the children rushed back up the stairs, Nona pushed open the kitchen door. Greyback watched until the last of them disappeared on the upper floor, then turned to her. "Will you let me take them?"
"I don't see what choice I have. If I try to stop them, they'll sneak out to go to you. If I try to stop you, it's bound to be messy for one of us. But do get one thing straight, Mr. Greyback. You only promised those kids, and we both know there will be more. If this happens a second time, you can be certain that, one way or another, there will not be a third. Am I understood?"
Greyback nodded his head to her. "Mrs. Ashland, I promise you this: there will not be a second."