"Hi, Hermione. Come on in," Greg said as she pushed open Sniffers' door. He was seated in Sammie's usual spot, his feet propped up on the desk and her name sign turned face downward.

"Hi, Greg! Long time, no see. What have you been up to?"

"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies," he said with a mischievous smile.

"Where's Sammie?"

He pointed his thumb toward the workroom door. "We're trying to open a chest for a client, and she's the best at picking locks." He waved his wand toward the door, and it swung open. "You guys ready for a break?"

"I've almost got it," Sammie said, annoyance coloring her voice. She leaned back, wiggled her nose, and her face brightened. She wrapped her fingers around the box, spreading them wider than it seemed it should be possible, and gave a quick twist; the box popped open in her hands. "Got it!"

"Took you long enough."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I can close it up and let you have a go if you like."

"I'll pass, thanks."

As she and Roma carried their chairs into the main room, Hermione asked, "Have you been working on that long?"

Sammie shrugged. "Half an hour, maybe 45 minutes. Greg's just a huge whiner."

"Hey!"

"It would have taken me quite a bit longer," Roma said. "Sammie has a real gift for the work."

Sammie shrugged again, a blush sneaking into her cheeks. "It's just like a big puzzle. It's kind of fun, actually. How's your research going, Hermione? You talked to Fenrir's sister a few days ago, right? What was she like? Was she like him at all?"

Hermione blushed. "I didn't know Fenrir like you did, so I can't really say."

"Was she nice?"

"Very. She really loved her brother."

"Who else did you interview this week?"

"Nona Ashland. I talked to her yesterday."

Sammie wrinkled her nose. "What did that old bat have to say?"

"Samantha," Roma said, "Mrs. Ashland has done us many a good turn over the years."

"And lectured us for every one. Besides, I don't think she'd be a good person to ask about Fenrir. She's always hated him."

"You can hardly blame her for that after what Dad did to her great-grandson. What did Nona talk about, Hermione?"

Hermione felt a blush sneaking up her neck, and hoped it wouldn't reach her face. "About her great-grandson, a bit."

"What else?" Roma's voice had a knowing tone to it.

"A, um, a bit about the first war."

"Why don't you just come out with it? I think we would all be a little less uncomfortable."

Hermione sighed. "Did you run away from Fenrir during the war?"

"I thought she might tell you that story." Sammie's eyes grew wide, but Roma kept talking. "Nona assumes there was more to it than there was. I suppose I can't blame her; I did overreact. You have to understand: most people assume Dad was horrible to us. They think he beat us, or he was a pedophile, or at least that he had us all so terrified of him that we didn't dare leave and try to get help. Nothing could be further from the truth. He never so much as spanked us. He taught us that anyone who would hurt a child was a monster.

"After he started working for the Death Eaters, he changed. His temper became shorter; he started yelling, throwing things. But even then, he never yelled at us; he never threw anything at us. He was angry at the world, and we knew that. Even when he frightened us, we were scared for him, not for ourselves, because we knew he would never hurt us.

"Except one night—only one—he did."

"We have to get some milk," Eleanor said. "What are we going to do for breakfast without it?"

Roma said, "I'll make porridge or something."

"We'll still need some to drink. There's not enough juice to go around."

"I'll have tea, then. We'll make it work."

"For Merlin's sake, Roma!" Jacob said, throwing up his hands. "This is Fenrir we're talking about. He won't bite your head off for asking him to buy some milk!"

"He has a lot on his mind tonight; I don't want to bother him for something we can take care of ourselves."

"If you won't ask him, I will." Roma grabbed his arm as he started for the door. "Well, are you going to do it or not?"

"I'll ask him."

"Now?"

She nodded, and with just a little goading, made her way down the stairs. The other kids followed her, so she waved them back as she reached the bottom. "Just wait here, all right?"

The others answered with a chorus of nods as she stepped to the open doorway of the living room. Fenrir was sitting inside, his chair turned three-quarters away from the doorway. A book lay open on his lap, but he was not reading it. Instead, he stared towards the fireplace, his fist stopped in mid-stroke on his pointed beard.

Roma knocked on the doorway's frame and stepped into the room. "Dad?"

"Not now, Roma."

The harsh command in his voice almost sent her back to the doorway, but she forced herself forward until she could see him in profile. "Are you going out tonight?"

His bloodshot eyes slid to their corners to glare at her with a coldness that made her take a step backwards.

"It's just that there's not enough milk for breakfast tomorrow. Can you get some?"

"I won't have time." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Galleon. "Here. You're old enough to get it on your own." He tossed the coin in her general direction; it landed a few feet away.

"All right." She knelt to pick it up, and stole a glance at him, but he had already turned back to the fire.

"What did he say?" Jacob asked as she hurried back to the others.

"He gave me money to buy some."

Jacob pried open her hand to see the gold coin. "Wizard money? That doesn't do any good. Nowhere that'll take it will be open until after breakfast."

"I'll get some off the Leaky Cauldron. They've got someone there all night."

"They'll charge you twice as much, though. That's stupid." He pulled the coin out of her fingers and started across the living room.

"Jake!" She grabbed his arm again.

"Let go!"

"Stop fighting!" Fenrir bellowed without looking at either of them.

Roma dropped Jacob's arm in surprise, but he marched right across the room as though nothing had happened.

"Hey, Fenrir, you got any Muggle money?" he asked, holding out the coin.

Fenrir's eyes slid around to glare at him the same way he had glared at Roma, and she shrank back towards the others. Jake, look at him. Please look at him.

"Come on, you know better than that," Jacob said without paying attention to Fenrir's reaction. "If we're going to get milk tonight, it has to be from a Muggle shop. Besides, it's not nice to make Roma walk so far at night all by herself."

Before anyone realized Fenrir's arm was moving, a loud SMACK! rang out, and Jacob sprawled across the floor. The others gasped like a single entity, and two of the youngest grabbed onto Roma like a sailor grabs onto a mast during a storm. Jacob's realization came slower as he started to pick himself up and put a hand to his stinging cheek.

Fenrir threw the book aside and dropped to his knees beside the boy. "Merlin's beard, Jacob, are you all right?"

Fenrir's words confirmed the reality that was asserting itself to Jacob's mind, and the boy started crying.

"Are you all right?" Fenrir scooped Jacob into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. Please forgive me; I'm so sorry."

Jacob's face over Fenrir's shoulder didn't look comforted; he looked terrified, desperate to get out of Fenrir's grasp but too scared to fight it. Roma couldn't blame him. 'I don't know what came over me.' That scared her most of all, because she believed it. As awful as hitting Jacob was, even worse was that Fenrir didn't mean it, couldn't control it—and so might do it again any time, to any of them.

"Go back upstairs," Roma whispered to the others. Eleanor helped her pry off the little ones, but the rest readily obeyed, retreating to the upstairs sitting room.

Across the living room, Fenrir loosened his grip on Jacob. "Here, let's get that taken care of before it bruises." As soon as Jacob had enough room, he darted away from Fenrir and threw himself into Roma's arms as though she could protect him.

"Go back upstairs," she whispered, pushing him behind her. He clambered up the stairs without looking back.

Fenrir watched him with a look of sorrow and self-horror. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't," Roma said. She turned and ran upstairs after the others.

When she opened the sitting room door, the others looked up fearfully for a second before recognizing her. She had barely closed the door again before Jacob ran across the room and threw his arms around her. "I'm so sorry. I should have listened to you."

"Shh. It wasn't your fault." She led him to an empty chair and summoned a light so she could examine him. Fenrir's huge hand had hit him squarely, the base of the first knuckle landing just below his eye. The entire side of his face was a bright red, with a black eye already forming. "I'll get some salve for that."

Jacob grabbed her arm as she rose. "Please don't go down there. I don't want you to get hurt, too."

Her instinct was to assure him she wouldn't, but how could she promise that? Instead, she sank back into her seat.

"Roma, what are we going to do?" Eleanor asked.

What could they do? Fenrir always said that anyone who would hurt a child was a monster, and children shouldn't be raised by monsters. She never thought he would become one himself, but if he really meant that… Before she could say anything, Fenrir's steps sounded in the hallway, and she brought her finger to her lips as an order for silence.

Fenrir knocked softly and opened the door. "I've brought Treasure Island, if you'd still like me to read to you tonight."

No one said anything. Taking the silence as tacit approval, he crossed the room and took a seat in an empty chair. The others clustered around Roma, drawing close to her whenever he wasn't looking. Fenrir read through two extra chapters to get to Jacob's favorite part, but no one was listening. They all waited in dread for him to stop.

At last he closed the book, laid it on his lap, and looked up at them. Sebastian grabbed onto Roma's arm, and Eleanor pulled the youngest girl onto her lap.

"I understand why you don't want to be near me right now," Fenrir said. "I don't blame you, but I hope you'll have forgiven me by tomorrow. Roma, just this once, would you mind putting everyone to bed for me?"

"I don't mind."

With a nod, he walked to the door. "Sleep well, my Treasures."

As soon as the door closed, Eleanor opened her mouth, but Roma held up a finger and listened. Fenrir's footsteps moved down the hall and into his own room. Only when his own door closed did she drop her finger.

"Roma, what are we going to do?" Eleanor asked again.

"I want everyone to get ready for bed, but while you're doing it, get all your clothes together and your most important things. Don't try to take everything; just the important stuff. And try not to make any more noise than you normally would getting ready for bed."

"Are we going to leave?"

"It depends on him. He was never like this before he started running with those humans. I'm sure he'd get better again if he stopped. But if he keeps it up… If he leaves tonight, we will too."

"But where will we go?"

"I'll work something out. Just get your stuff together and go to bed like normal, and I'll come get you if he leaves, all right?"

With nods, everyone went to their own rooms and did as Roma said, gathering their things while pretending to get ready for bed. Once everything was in place, they each laid down and put out the lights.

Roma didn't sleep. She doubted anyone did, except possibly the very youngest and only because they couldn't help it. She lay awake, listening to the sounds of the house. Minutes ticked by, stretching into an hour, then two, and then she heard Fenrir's door open again and his footsteps move softly down the hall. Roma climbed out of bed, gesturing to Eleanor and Leslie to keep quiet, and followed him downstairs.

"Dad," she said as he reached for the front door.

He turned toward her and smiled. "I'm sorry I woke you, Sweetness. It's late; go back to bed."

"Are you still going out?"

"Don't worry. I'll get some milk while I'm gone."

She rushed down the last few steps and grabbed his arm. "Please don't go!"

"I have to, Sweetness."

"You don't! We'll hide from them. We'll go underground, so deep they can't find us. We don't mind."

He shook his head and gently laid his hand on her cheek. "You misunderstand, Sweetness. They aren't forcing me; I'm doing this for you. I know you don't understand that right now, but it's true. This is all for you."

"We don't want it! We want things back the way they were!"

Fenrir wrapped his arms around her. "You don't know what you're saying. But someday you will, and then you'll know I was right."

"Please don't go," she begged, clinging to his shoulder.

He leaned back and wiped the tears from her eyes with his long fingers. "I am going. Now you go upstairs and get to sleep, all right?"

She couldn't quite bring herself to nod, but she turned and started up the stairs. Behind her, the front door opened and closed again. Roma looked over her shoulder in the hopes that he had changed his mind and was following her up, but no. She could just see his gray-streaked black hair through the window before he vanished into the darkness outside. She swallowed hard and ran up the stairs to the other children.

Greg shook his head. "I wonder what he thought he'd get from You-Know-Who."

"All the things he couldn't get from the Ministry, I suppose," Roma said.

"But he was a bright guy. He had to know You-Know-Who would double-cross him sooner or later."

"He must have had some sort of guarantee," Sammie said. "I can't imagine Fenrir ever leaving his kids behind unless he was sure he'd get something out of it."

"Like a contract," Hermione said.

"Yeah, exactly. He must have had a contract or something."

"He did. Scabior told me about it." She dug through her bag until she found the Mental Notebook and flipped through the pages. "Here it is. Fenrir had a contract he wanted You-Know-Who to sign. He said with it, he'd be able to bring all the werewolves out of hiding and over to the Death Eaters' side."

"That must have been some contract," Greg said. "Why didn't he ever use it?"

"You-Know-Who never signed it."

"That gets us right back where we started, doesn't it?" Sammie asked. "Why would Fenrir leave his kids with Nona the first time and give them all away to other packs the second, if he didn't have a guarantee?"

"It depends what was in the contract," Roma said. "If there was enough, just the chance might be worth it."

"What I wouldn't give to look at it," Hermione said. "Any idea where Fenrir would keep something like that?"

Roma shrugged. "If the Ministry had gotten hold of it, they would have made a big deal about it. The Aurors got to his house before we did and stripped it bare, and found nothing. I suppose he might have had a den I didn't know about."

"He probably kept it in his pouch," Sammie said. With a frown, Greg reached over and pinched her. "Ouch! Stop that!"

Greg jerked his head none-too-subtly toward Hermione.

"Oh, come off it!" Sammie took a mokeskin pouch out of her pocket and put it on the desk. "Hermione, you know what that is, right?"

'Mokeskin' was clearly not the answer she was looking for, and a blush spread across Hermione's cheeks. "A Thief's Pouch?"

Sammie rolled her eyes at Greg. "See?"

"I assure you we have not used them for their intended purpose in many years," Roma said.

"I'm pretty sure you've stolen more than all of us put together, actually," Sammie said with a grin at Hermione.

"I stole one antique cup!"

"And a dragon," Greg said.

"OK, and technically a dragon," Hermione conceded. "… And a locket."

"Whoa, I hadn't heard about this locket bit."

"Really, it was already Harry's. It was stolen from his house; we just stole it back." And some food. Hermione usually left money for the food she and the boys took while looking for the horcruxes, but sometimes she wasn't sure the cash got where it was supposed to, or that she'd left enough. And when it looked like they might be searching for years…

"Hermione, you don't have to justify yourself," Roma said. "We understand. It's easy for someone else to judge when they're sitting safe and warm in a cozy house with a full belly, but sometimes, desperate times call for desperate measures. As for our own Thief's Pouches, Dad's friend Nic used to make them for fun. It amused him to see what the pups would do to nick one, because even if you never steal anything else, they are dead useful to have. Once you put something in one, you can take it out of any other Thief's Pouch you've stolen, and no one else can get to it as long as you're alive."

"What about after death?" Hermione asked.

"It's difficult, but not impossible," Roma said. "But only a Latromancer can do it. That's a master of the magical arts of thievery, and they're very rare."

Latromancer. She'd heard that word before; where was it? "Chris Corbin! He's a Latromancer."

"How do you know Chris?"

"I met him at the Ministry a while ago," Hermione said. "How do you know him?"

Roma smiled. "He's my little brother."

"Bratty little brother," Greg said. "Well, big brother for me."

"Chris is not that bad," Sammie said.

"You can say that because you never had to share a room with him. What a snotrag."

"He's grown up a little since then."

"Very little."

Sammie rolled her eyes and turned back to Hermione. "Did Chris fanboy all over you when you met?"

"A bit," Hermione said.

Sammie laughed. "I am going to give him so much crap next time I see him."

"Don't burn any bridges for me. He is a Latromancer, right?"

"He is," Roma said, "but I'm not sure what sort of contract he's under for his Ministry work, and you don't want to send a strange owl to him. They don't always do well against the protections on his home. Why don't I page him on your behalf? I'll keep it vague, and if he's interested, he can contact you himself."

"That would be wonderful. Thank you so much."

With that issue settled, the conversation fell away from Fenrir and into everyday affairs, and soon the lunch hour was over. Hermione gave her usual goodbyes and returned to her office. To her pleasant surprise, a letter from Charlie Weasley was waiting on her desk. She opened it and almost dropped it.

Dear Hermione,

Haven't you ever heard me talk about my boss? Lucy Darkmore is the head director of the Dragon Reserve.