Hermione stepped out of the Aubreys' Floo and was met by a house-elf dressed in knickerbockers and a sweater. "Oh, hello. Are you Niddy?"

"Yes, Prof. Granger. I wanted to meet you to thank you for helping me get home."

"It was my pleasure. I'm glad I could help."

"You are also my friend Hope's new mistress, right?"

"I suppose so."

"She is very excited. She says you are very bright, and your kitty is good at chasing gnomes and purrs very loud."

"Crookshanks and Hope really hit it off," Hermione agreed.

"If you'll follow me, I'll take you to Mrs. Aubrey's private study."

With a word of thanks, Hermione followed Niddy upstairs. Ursula was seated behind her desk, and beside her stood a pale man in his late 20s with black hair that made Harry's look well-behaved. She signed a paper and handed it to him.

"Mrs. Aubrey, Prof. Granger's here," Niddy announced.

"Thank you so much, Niddy," Ursula said as Hermione stepped into the study. She turned to the man beside her. "Have you met Prof. Granger before, Scott?"

"I haven't had the pleasure." He held out his hand and smiled. He had fangs, but they weren't a werewolf's fangs. It was a double set, both the canines and the neighboring incisors, and the canines were longer than a werewolf's. "I'm Scott Hembree."

Hermione shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you. Are you related to Elmira Hembree, by any chance?"

"Oh Merlin, what did my mother do now?"

Hermione sputtered before she could stop herself. "Your mother?! Really? What a small world, huh?" she covered.

"I suppose so. How do you know Mum?"

"Um, well, I've run into her in my research a bit."

Ursula chuckled despite herself. "Also, you remember that trouble during November's full moon, don't you, Scott?"

"Oh no," Scott said. "You're that lady, aren't you? I am so sorry about Mum. She is absolutely mortifying sometimes."

"No worries," Hermione said. "My mother has embarrassed me plenty of times, too. She says it's her job as a parent."

"My mum is more 'Not everyone's going to like me, Scott. I'm not chocolate,'" he said in a falsetto. "It was very nice to meet you, though. I'll leave you and Mrs. Aubrey to your appointment." He turned back to Ursula. "Your schedule's clear this morning, Mrs. Aubrey, but don't forget that you're joining Mr. Aubrey for lunch at the club before your committee meeting."

"Why don't you send Devon an owl and warn him I may have to cancel? I don't want to rush this."

Scott nodded in acknowledgement and stepped out of the room, Niddy going with him. A mischievous smile spread across Ursula's lips. "Did you notice anything unusual about Scott?"

"Nothing that's any of my business," Hermione said, sitting down.

"I hope you'll forgive me and my secretary for setting you up," Ursula said. "You are asking me about something very sensitive, after all. But if you have questions about Scott, you can ask. He prefers answers to assumptions."

"He's a dhampyr, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is, on his father's side. Well, obviously. I actually met his parents once when they were newlyweds. Even for one of Horace Slughorn's parties, they were a surprising couple. Here was this up and coming Dark Creature Hunter, and there was this shockingly hideous vampire on her arm. And she was wearing anti-enthrallment glasses and a silver choker, so it wasn't that."

"She mentioned that she'd hunted vampires. I wonder how they ever got together."

"How did she put it? 'I'd like to tell you there was an epic battle of good and evil involved, but actually, we met at a book club.' Apparently, Scott's father is a huge Jane Austin fan."

"I would not have expected Hunter Hembree to be into Muggle literature, either."

"Oh, she's very surprising. Absolutely insufferable, but surprising. Her husband's very charming, though. He has the most unusual accent. I'm not sure if it's American or 18th century. It might be both. But anyway." She pulled a stack of parchment out of a drawer and sat it on her desk, then moved to the chair opposite Hermione and pulled it close. "I have to say that your letter certainly caught my attention."

"I hope I didn't offend you," Hermione said.

"No, just the opposite. Almost no one outside my family knows that Fenrir changed his last name, and I can't imagine most people asking the sort of questions you asked. It's nice to know that someone else sees my little brother as—" Her voice caught, and she said in a lower tone, "a human being. You said you found my letters in his cell?"

"Yes, ma'am." Hermione pulled them out of her purse and held them out. "They gave me permission to take them, and I thought you might like to have them back."

Ursula took them gingerly, as though she expected them to crumble in her hands. "Have you made copies of them?"

"No, ma'am. To be honest, I haven't even read them. It didn't seem right without your permission."

Ursula patted the stack of parchments on the desk. "Well, I thought you'd like to see the other half of the conversation, so we'll have Scott copy the whole part and parcel before you go. For now, though, I would like to make you a deal, as they say. I had no contact with Fenrir after…" She paused, struggling to find words. "Well, let's just say, while he was indisposed. All I know is what the Daily Prophet printed, and I've learned not to trust that. You probably know more about his later life than I do. So, if you will tell me about his last 30 years, I will tell you about his first 30."

"Mrs. Aubrey, I would be glad to tell you that, even if you refused to tell me anything."

"Please, dear, why don't you call me Ursula?" She sat the letters Hermione had given her on the desk, then pulled one from that stack and two from the original. "I don't want to spend too much time on these when we could be talking, but why don't you read these first three? I have some questions about them."

Hermione read the first as quickly as she could without losing meaning. It was from Ursula, telling Fenrir that she still loved him after all that had happened and, although she hated the circumstances, she wanted to see him. The first from Fenrir… Well, it hardly seemed to be from Fenrir at all. If someone said it was a forgery, some Ministry ploy, Hermione would have believed it. It consisted entirely of a fiercely scrawled, "Don't come."

The second letter from Fenrir, Hermione read more carefully.

My Dearest Sister,

I am sure my last letter, if it could even be called that, has left you wondering. You certainly deserve an explanation now that I am capable of giving one. I wish I could spare you the harshness of it, but I don't dare. If I am not brutally honest, I fear you may ignore my warning and try to visit me, and thus put yourself in danger. Therefore, my dear sister, please forgive my frankness.

My mind is broken, dear Ursula, as badly broken as a werewolf's can be. As a wolf, I no longer crave just the feeling of a bite, but rather the taste of human flesh and blood and the sensation of a victim's death. As a man, little is different. What poor remnants of self-control I had left have been destroyed by the Dementors and by being imprisoned near humans. The only reason I am able to write coherently now—and I can only hope that it is coherent—is because I have been isolated, and so separated from that constant maddening desire for the copious prey just out of my reach.

But make no mistake: that desire remains. I am a danger to any human who comes within my grasp, and that would include you. I wish it were not so! Dear Ursula, you don't know what I would give to be well again. But there is no help for a werewolf in my state, and I fear that, if you came to visit me, I would try to hurt you. Please believe I would not want to, Ursula, but also believe that I could not help it. I am a victim of my instincts now, and it is only in letters that I can pretend to be sane. In truth, if you'll forgive the vanity, even if you followed every possible precaution to keep yourself safe, I would not want you to see me in my present state. As much as I long to see your lovely face, I would rather you remember me as the man I once was, rather than what I have become.

Please, though, if you can find it in your heart to do so, please write to me again. I would love to hear of your life, and your children, and grandchildren if you have them. It would be a great joy, in this otherwise joyless place, to hear of what I have missed over all these years. I truly hope that I shall hear from you again.

All my love,

Fenrir

When Hermione finished, Ursula leaned close to her. "Prof. Granger, please tell me the truth. Had Fenrir really lost his mind at the end of his life?" Hermione opened her mouth, struggling to figure out what to say. "Please don't try to spare my feelings. I want to know, even if it might hurt."

Hermione took Ursula's hand and folded it in her own. "Your brother was very ill with a condition called vargulfism. I don't know how long he suffered from it, but he was in the final stage for at least a year before his arrest."

"Vargulfism? I've never heard of that. What is it?"

"It's a very rare complication of lycanthropy." Hermione explained what little she knew about vargulfs and what she had learned about Greyback that fit the symptoms.

"My poor little brother," Ursula said. "Wasn't there any way to help him?"

"I'm afraid not. There's no treatment for a werewolf in the final stage of vargulfism. I don't know how he could have gotten help even if there had been, though, with his criminal record." Ursula sighed. "I'm sorry."

"No, dear, it's all right. I know at least some of the things he did after he… left us. It's just so hard for me to believe, even now. If you had known him when he was young…" She shook her head. "I know it's not fair of me, but sometimes I blame Lucia. If she hadn't taken that little boy away…"

"Little boy?" Hermione asked. "Do you mean Fenrir's son?"

Ursula nodded. "My nephew, Phelan. Fenrir thought the world of that boy."

Ursula peeked into the bedroom, watching her little nephew sleep. Perhaps she was fooling herself, perhaps he was too young to tell, but she thought he would be as handsome as his father when he grew up. He certainly had Fenrir's smile and charm. All it took was one of those beaming grins and his sweet "please, Aunt Ursula," and she was putty in his hands.

Ursula eased the door closed and padded toward her guest room. As she passed Fenrir and Lucia's room, their voices floated to her ears, and she stopped despite herself.

"Fenrir, you don't need to worry about it," Lucia said. Ursula could just see them through the gap between the door and its frame. Fenrir was moping at the edge of the bed, and Lucia knelt on the mattress beside him, stroking his hair with one hand while her other rested on his shoulder. "I make enough money to support all three of us."

"But you shouldn't have to," he said. "I want to take care of you, Lucia."

"I appreciate that, but I'm a grown woman. I can take care of myself, and Phelan. And even you, if you'll let me."

Fenrir shook his head slightly, perhaps not realizing it. "I just want a decent job, one I can be proud of. That shouldn't be such a challenge for me. I was at the top of my class at Hogwarts. Now I'm stuck in this worthless apprentice-path work and expected to be grateful for that."

"I know, Sweetheart." Lucia paused in her petting and leaned her cheek on the top of his head. "I may know somewhere you could find a good job."

A slight, mirthless chuckled entered Fenrir's voice. "Oh, really? And you've been holding out on me? Where would I find this wonderful place?"

"Transylvania."

Fenrir laughed sincerely this time. "Transylvania! That would do it, I suppose."

"I'm serious, Fenrir." Lucia moved to sit beside him on the bed. "You know I'm right. You'd have a better chance on the continent, and in Transylvania you could go back into government work, maybe even diplomacy again."

Fenrir shook his head. "I'm sure you need citizenship for that, and that would take years."

"And where will you be in five or seven years if we stay here? At least there, you would have a chance."

Fenrir smiled, took one of Lucia's hands, and kissed it. "You're a wonderful woman, Lucia. Sometimes I think I'm not worthy of you. I couldn't ask that of you."

"You don't have to." Lucia put her other hand to her cheek as a blush snuck into her face. "I should have brought this up earlier. Now you'll think I have an ulterior motive. Fenrir, I got a job offer in Transylvania. It's a very good offer, too, not a step down at all and with lots of chances for advancement. I wasn't sure how to bring it up, but I think it would be an excellent opportunity for both of us."

Fenrir toyed with her fingernails. "What about our families?"

"We can still visit. You know how easy it is to move around the continent. There are portkey centers to take you anywhere from the oceans to the mountains. Even if we had to take a Muggle boat across the Channel, it'd still be an easy weekend trip."

"Lucia, I… I can't go."

"Why not?"

He dropped his voice. "I have obligations here."

"What sort of obligations?" Fenrir shook his head, avoiding her eyes. Her forehead wrinkled, and her own voice lowered. "Fenrir, are you in some sort of trouble?"

He shook his head and opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"It's something to do with the goblins, isn't it?" she asked. "You are in trouble."

"No, it's nothing like that."

"Then what is it?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

Again, he shook his head. "Please, Lucia, please believe me when I say it's a matter of deathly importance, and I can't say any more."

"What do you mean by 'deathly importance'? More important than Phelan and me?"

The mere words drained the blood from Fenrir's face, and he looked at her with eyes as wide as a deer's in a hunter's light.

"Don't ask me that. Please don't. Don't you know…" His voice choked, and he reached to touch her face. Almost on their own, his hands instead moved around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. He clung to her desperately, as though he feared she would vanish if he let go. "Don't you know how precious you and Phelan are to me? Please don't ask me something like that. Please, don't ask me to make a choice like that."

"Fenrir, please, I want to help you, whatever it is. Please tell me so I can!"

Fenrir said nothing. He only clung to her with that same desperation.

"Lucia and Phelan were Fenrir's whole world, and all Lucia cared about was her work," Ursula said. "Our father died unexpectedly, and the estate was left in a terrible mess. Our mother was never a practical woman. She needed all the help she could get from Fenrir and me to get things in order, and in the middle of all that, when Fenrir needed her most, Lucia up and left for the continent and took Phelan with her. Fenrir was so terribly lonely; it was too much for him all at once. I'm sure he never would have kidnapped any of those children if she had been there."

Ursula paused, as though just hearing those words herself. "Prof. Granger, I wonder… Have you found out much about the children he took?"

"Some of them. I'm friends with a few." Hermione wasn't sure if Ursula knew Roma was one, and if not, that wasn't her secret to tell.

"What do they think of Fenrir, now that he's gone?"

"Most of them miss him a lot. They loved him very much."

Ursula smiled even as tears glimmered in her eyes. "Fenrir always loved children, even as a young man. I couldn't imagine him treating any of them poorly, but it's…"

"Nice to hear?"

Ursula nodded. "Would you mind telling me about some of them? You can change the names if you like, but I'd like to hear some of the stories."

Hermione obligingly told her some of Roma's stories, the ones that had surprised her with their normality and sweetness. In return, Ursula told stories of Fenrir from their childhood, especially some of the boyish trouble he got into while attending a Muggle primary school. "Our parents wanted us to be exposed to all sorts of people, you see."

They talked so long that they lost track of time, and it was only when Scott knocked and leaned into the room that they were brought back to the present. Ursula needed to leave for a committee meeting, so they made plans to meet again the following week, and Hermione made her way back to the office.

Her mind was racing over the things she had learned, the tidbits about Fenrir's childhood. As soon as she reached her office, she opened her Mental Notebook to make sure she had captured everything. The portion about Lucia caught her eyes. A job offer in Transylvania? Hembree had said that Lucy and Phelan came from abroad. Could that be where? Were they still there?

Transylvania was a start, but it hardly helped. The Magical Republic of Transylvania contained the Muggle countries of both Romania and Moldova. And even if Lucy still worked there, she could live almost anywhere in Europe and travel there by Floo or portkey, as long as she wasn't separated by a large body of water.

Still, it was the best chance Hermione had to find Fenrir's wife. She only knew one person in Transylvania—well, two people now—so she might as well start there. She pulled out some parchment and started writing.

Dear Charlie,

Hi! I hope you're doing well. How's Gavril? I'm hoping you can help me with some research. I'm looking for a woman named Lucia Darkmore. I don't know much about her, except that she is a cryptozoologist and may be working in Transylvania. I realize this is a long shot, but as a dracologist, maybe you have some ideas about where I could look or some connections who have heard of her.

Thanks for the help,

Hermione