All For You -Chapter 11

Chapter 11

His fingers twitched irritably as he waited for his guest to arrive. It had been three days since he summoned the man, and he’d received a response only this morning informing him of Lestrange’s imminent visit.

He needed to find a better way of communicating with his agents, particularly whilst he was so far away and out of the loop as to what had happened.

It had been a report in a local newspaper where he had learned of Greyback’s arrest in Britain.

How the pack had been discovered, he knew not, but he was keen to get the answers to the many questions he had.

His finger began to tap rapidly atop the table he was seated at irritably, and he took a breath to calm himself.

His temper had been shorter than usual recently, ever since he’d created another of his Horcruxes. It seemed the more he created, the less patient he became.

He’d been documenting the changes he felt within himself, and thus far, the pros undoubtedly outweighed the cons. He was as able as ever to perform his magic, and he felt stronger and more confident knowing he truly was as close to immortal as can be.

“Ah, Lord Lestrange,” he greeted his guest jovially enough, hiding the stab of annoyance at the nonchalant smile the man graced him with. “What happened with Greyback?”

Lestrange’s expression darkened, and he shook his head.

“All we know is that he has been arrested,” he murmured quietly. “I have no idea how they were found in the forest, not unless the damned gamekeeper spotted them.”

“Gamekeeper? The gamekeeper ventures into the forest?”

Lestrange snorted derisively.

“This one isn’t like the ones we had at school,” he huffed. “He goes into the forest for fun. He’s not all there if you know what I mean. His name is Hagrid, a damned oaf by all accounts.”

“Hagrid. You mean Rubeus Hagrid?” he asked, his eyes narrowing in displeasure.

“You know him?”

“Once upon a time,” Voldemort grumbled. “He is an oaf and spent half of his life in the forest whilst we were at school.”

“It’s a shame you didn’t get the Defence job when you applied with Dippet,” Lestrange sighed.

Voldemort hummed irritably.

“What of this Amelia Bones?”

“An Auror, and one that is proving to be good at her job,” Lestrange explained. “I don’t know how she got Greyback, but it was her who took him in.”

“And what of the pack?”

“That is what is confusing,” Lestrange replied with a frown. “There’s been no mention of the pack.”

“So, they’re still there?”

Lestrange shook his head.

“Macnair went in and found where they were. Whatever happened in there caused a hell of a mess. Trees were uprooted, and the ground was disturbed by something big. What is strange is that even though there was a fight of some sort, there was no trace of magic left behind. Bones either cleared up after herself really well…”

“Or she wasn’t alone,” Voldemort broke in thoughtfully before shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. I want the pack found and Greyback freed.”

Lestrange released a deep breath.

“He’s in Azkaban and going to trial,” he explained. “It would be impossible to get to him, even if we had Malfoy or Black on side. For now, until we know what is going to be done with him, Fenrir is beyond our reach.”

Voldemort’s fists closed tightly beneath the table, his anger surfacing.

He did his utmost to reign it in and nodded.

“That is disappointing,” he replied. “I would be kept informed of any update on him. He will prove to be an invaluable asset to us in the years to come. For now, keep watching and working on bringing more people to our side.”

“Of course,” Lestrange replied as he stood. “My own children will be at your behest, as will many others. Our numbers will swell, and we will be ready when you arrive.”

“You have my gratitude, Lord Lestrange,” Voldemort said under his breath as the man left the café. “You have my gratitude.”

(Break)

She breathed a sigh of relief as the front page of the morning edition of The Daily Prophet did not mention her and her apprehension of Fenrir Greyback. It had been a week ago now that Amelia had brought him in, and she’d not been granted a moment of peace since.

If only it were the British media she’d had to contend with, it wouldn’t have been so bad, but it seemed that every news outlet in Europe had arrived to get the scoop.

Word of Greyback’s arrest had spread quickly, and Amelia’s life had been invaded by journalists who wished to get an interview.

She’d declined all of them, and somehow, it only made them more determined.

When she was on duty, she would be followed until Alastor stepped in, and the one time she’d made the mistake of leaving the Ministry of Magic via the main entrance, she’d been bombarded by them.

It wasn’t any wonder why Jameson hadn’t wanted to take any of the credit, and Amelia wondered if he’d done it intentionally for his own amusement.

She knew it would be big news, but she hadn’t expected such an invasion of her privacy.

Still, it appeared as though she was finally yesterday’s news, and Amelia allowed herself to relax for the first time in several days.

“Ready for today?” Alastor asked as he entered her office.

“Today?” Amelia replied confusedly before groaning and placing her head in her hands. “It’s going to start again, isn’t it?”

Alastor unleashed a bark of laughter, and Amelia glared at him.

He’d found the entire ordeal all too amusing for her liking and had been ribbing her all week.

“It will all blow over,” he assured her. “You should be proud. It’s a big arrest.”

Amelia quirked an eyebrow at him and peered over his shoulder to ensure no one was listening in.

“It wasn’t my arrest, and you know it.”

“I don’t know it,” Alastor replied pointedly. “I know Jameson was involved, but you’ve been very coy about exactly what happened.”

Amelia deflated and nodded her understanding.

“I don’t think you’d believe me if I did tell you.”

Alastor frowned and eyed her speculatively.

“Try me.”

“Would you believe it if I told you Jameson employed the help of the centaurs to fight against trolls, Acromantula, and the werewolves?”

Moody’s expression was impassive for a moment before he chuckled.

“Is that the best you can come up with? Come on, Bones, pull the other one.”

“Well, if you didn’t believe that, you’d never believe what really happened,” Amelia sighed. “Does the trial start at two?”

“It does,” Alastor confirmed. “They’ve got your statement, so they won’t likely ask for you to give evidence, but you should be there. Grimm has already cleared it.”

“I’ll be there,” Amelia declared. “What do you think will happen?”

Moody shrugged.

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t expect him to see another day inside Azkaban.”

“You think they’ll execute him?”

Alastor shook his head.

“No, I think he’ll be extradited so the ICW can have the final say what happens to him. He’s wanted in so many countries that they’ll all want their pound of flesh. As long as he gets what he deserves, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Today will probably be a formality.”

Amelia nodded.

“Then it will finally be the end of it all,” she murmured, anticipating this chapter of her career coming to an end.

She was grateful for Jameson allowing her to take the credit, even if she’d done very little in the scheme of things.

Worse yet, she’d not seen the man since they’d left the forest.

He’d not been at the restaurant when she’d tried to give him a piece of her mind for the attention she was receiving, and Thomas had not heard from him either.

It was as though he’d vanished into the wind, and Amelia didn’t even know what he’d done with the werewolves.

Jameson had assured her he’d handle the problem but had said nothing else on the matter.

Regardless, after the trial today, it would all be over with, and Amelia was looking forward to getting back to normality, whatever that amounted to for an Auror.

(Break)

“What’s going to happen to us?” One of the female werewolves asked worriedly.

Her hands were placed on the shoulders of a little girl, her daughter, judging by the resemblance they shared.

Harry took in the large group, pondering the very same thing the woman had asked.

“I promised that no harm would come to you, and I meant it,” he assured them. “What would be best for you?”

The woman was taken aback by the question.

“We are not bad people,” she answered. “Most of us banded together because it is the only way to be safe. Wherever we go, we’re not welcome. We are persecuted against for what we are, and we’ve never been given much choice. For us, there is safety in numbers.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

Having gotten to know Remus so many years prior, he knew of the plight that werewolves faced.

Maybe it was his ‘saving people thing’ rearing its head, but he could not bring himself to abandon them.

What he could do, he wasn’t sure, but he knew something had to be done quickly.

“You can’t stay in the forest, and staying in Britain is not an option after what happened,” he said pointedly. “Is there any country where you are tolerated?”

“Canada,” the woman answered. “The Canadians are quite tolerant of us, so long as we take measures to ensure we cannot attack anyone when the full moon comes.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

“You can stay here whilst I make some arrangements for you,” he decided. “I will be back in thirty-six hours.”

“How can we trust you/’ one of the men asked.

“You don’t know you can,” Harry said with a shrug, “but what choice do you have?”

Fortunately, with as vast as Canada was, it had not been difficult to find a secluded spot to house the werewolves. He knew he would need to go down the official channels of purchasing some land soon, but for now, so long as they were away from Greyback and out of Britain, it would do.

Harry had hastily erected some temporary shelters for the pack and cages for the full moon.

They had been grateful for his assistance, and as much as he wished that would be all for his involvement with them, Harry knew that was not the case.

He needed to provide them with a meaningful way of life and a way they could be self-sufficient.

Securing regular employment was more difficult now than it had been during his own time, so he needed to come up with something feasible and long-term.

He was considering buying a farm that they could live on and work. The produce could supply the restaurant, and the surplus sold to other businesses.

It was something he was looking into.

“Mr Jameson, are you in there?”

“Come in, Thomas,” Harry called.

The man entered and seemed to be relieved to see him.

“Where have you been all week, sir?”

“Just busy,” Harry answered. “I’m sorry, Thomas, for leaving you to run the place. I’ve been looking over the books. You’ve done a fine job.”

“Thank you, sir,” Thomas replied with a smile.

“Which is why it makes my decision much easier,” Harry continued.

“Decision?”

Harry nodded.

“I would like you to run the place permanently. I’ve been offered the Defence Against the Dark Arts post at Hogwarts for the coming school year, so I will need you here to manage this place if you think you are able to.”

 “Of course,” the man assured him. “I won’t let you down.”

“Good,” Harry declared as he stood. “If you need me, you can send for me any time, but the place is yours. Just keep the gold rolling in and I will be happy.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will,” Harry said with a smile, clapping Thomas on the shoulder.

“Oh, sir, Auror Bones has been looking for you.”

Harry released a deep breath.

“I thought she might be,” he sighed. “Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll catch up with me soon enough.”

“Would you like me to tell her I’ve not seen you?”

“No, just tell her I’ve been away and she knows where my new office is.”

“Will do, sir.”

“Good. If there’s nothing else, I have a few things to do before I go to Hogwarts.”

“Nothing I can think of, sir. Good luck.”

“And to you,” Harry offered sincerely as Thomas left the office.

He took a final, fond look around the place before ensuring he’d left nothing he’d be needing.

Harry was confident the restaurant was in good hands, and though he’d anticipated immersing himself in the world of such a business, his venture into the Forbidden Forest with Amelia Bones had served to remind him of the kind of man he was.

Harry was no restauranteur.

Perhaps against his wishes and often better judgment, he was an adventurer; the life he’d lived having shaped him into such.

He didn’t yearn for his formative years nor for war, but there was something that attracted him to risky situations, and he could no longer deny it.

Being an Unspeakable had filled that void after Voldemort had been defeated, and as much as he wished to be different, that wasn’t who he was.

The approaching school year at Hogwarts would give him time to decide what it was he truly wished to pursue.

He found he was looking forward to it. It gave him a sense of freedom, of fulfilment he knew he would not get from anything else.

Shaking his head at his own hubris, he released a deep sigh before extinguishing the lights in his office.

Once again, he found he would be beginning a new chapter in his life, though this time, he felt as though he was on the path to doing what he’d always been destined for.

(Break)

The message he’d received from Professor Jameson informing him of Greyback’s capture had been brief, and the following meeting with the man some four days later only a little more informative.

Albus felt as though he’d been kept out of the loop as to what had truly transpired in the Forbidden Forest, and as he watched as Fenrir Greyback was led into the chambers of the Wizengamot, his suspicions only grew.

Although he tried to appear to be imposing, the pale, ragged man with four missing fingers scarcely cut the fearful figure he’d become across the continent in recent years.

His gaze was furtive, though he managed to snarl at the onlooking Amelia Bones, who remained unmoved by the gesture.

Albus had not been granted the time to speak with the woman credited for the arrest, and he’d found it odd that Jameson had not wished to claim the credit for his part in the endeavour.

Perhaps Jameson merely wished to avoid the publicity, and if that was so, he’d done a fine job.

Albus often wished he’d been able to do the same upon the conclusion of his infamous duel with Gellert, but it had been all but impossible. The confrontation had been well-documented, and, as such, Albus had been lauded a hero by the wizarding community at large.

He had little time for heroes, especially when such a word was used to describe him.

It belittled the efforts of every other man and woman who’d died during the struggle. They’d become overlooked by his feat and often forgotten.

Clearing his throat, Albus took his place behind his podium as he addressed the room at large.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I call this trial of Fenrir Greyback to order,” he announced grimly.

The camera flashes from the media gallery were blinding, and Albus chose to ignore them in favour of continuing with his duties.

The outcome had already been discussed and insisted upon by the members of the ICW who had reached out to him shortly after the news had broken of Greyback’s capture.

This trial was a mere formality, and by the end of the day, the werewolf would be in an undisclosed location and would likely be executed before the weekend.

Having heard of Greyback’s exploits over the years, Albus did not expect anything less, and he found it difficult to find even a modicum of sympathy for Fenrir.

Still, he wondered what had happened to the large pack that had been at his command.

Professor Jameson had not been very forthcoming with information outside of Greyback’s fate, and Albus did not believe for a moment the man would’ve harmed the others.

Maybe he would become privy to what had become of them, but for now, it was their leader who required his attention until the official verdict was given, and Fenrir Greyback would become little more than a footnote in the annals of history.

“Before we discuss the crimes you have been accused of, Mr Greyback, is there anything you wish to say?”

The werewolf's gaze drifted around the room, coming to rest on Amelia Bones, and Albus noted an expression of confusion passing across his features briefly before he shook his head.

“I have nothing to say,” he replied in a hoarse voice.

Albus nodded his understanding before gesturing to Minister Leach to begin his part in the proceedings and taking his seat.

If he wasn’t mistaken, it appeared as though Greyback’s memory had been altered in some capacity, though he would never be able to prove it.

However, it only added credence to his belief that he was rather ignorant as to what truly transpired in the forest, and Albus could not help but think that it was perhaps for the best.

Amelia Bones certainly seemed relieved that Fenrir had nothing to say on the matter, and she visibly relaxed in her seat as the trial unfolded.

Albus continued to watch her closely, yet, the young woman gave nothing away.

He didn’t doubt her ability to apprehend Greyback, only the means by which she had done so.

The report he’d received from Professor Jameson informing him of the Acromantula and troll involvement had been ominous but evidently proved to be less concerning than he’d anticipated.

Especially because little evidence of their presence had been found upon his own investigation.

It seemed that whatever happened in the forest would remain a mystery, and Albus wasn’t sure if that was such a bad thing after all.

(Break)

There had been such little satisfaction in seeing Greyback being led out of the chambers by the Aurors accompanying him. What Amelia had endured to bring the notorious werewolf in seemed to be for nothing, and she couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she would not see the justice served the man deserved.

“This is all because of you,” Alastor said firmly. “You shouldn’t feel so dejected. He’s going to get what he has coming. The ICW will see to that. Believe me, they will treat him much more harshly than Leach would, and you saw Yaxley and the others. They would’ve found a way to mitigate any punishment he got here.”

“Why would they do that?” Amelia asked with a frown.

“I don’t know,” Moody replied thoughtfully. “I can’t think of any reason, which only makes me more suspicious.”

Amelia nodded her agreement.

“Anyway, I have some things I must do,” Alastor declared. “I’ll be back in the office before the end of the day. Forget about all of this. It won’t do you any good dwelling on it.”

“I won’t,” Amelia sighed. “I have something I want to do too.”

“Jameson,” Moody chuckled. “Still not found him?”

“No,” Amelia huffed. “If I would’ve known what all of this would’ve done to me, I never would’ve agreed to do it.”

“Aye, you would,” Moody snorted. “You care about people, Bones, and you would’ve done whatever it takes to get Greyback.”

“I just about did,” Amelia grumbled. “I’m still going to strangle Jameson. He knew this would happen.”

Alastor grinned in amusement.

“He’s a smart man,” he offered.

“And a brilliant wizard,” Amelia added. “He surprises me more and more, and I don’t feel like I even scratched the surface yet.”

“You’re not wrong,” Alastor murmured. “I’ve spent years around some of the most dangerous men and women you will ever meet, and Jameson is one of them. He might come across as a charismatic, charming restaurant owner, but beneath that, I would bet there is more to him.”

“You have no idea,” Amelia mused aloud.

Alastor grunted as he rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Do you think it is wise to dig any deeper into him?” he asked, his tone concerned. “You know what he is or was, and I can’t imagine him tolerating intrusions on his privacy indefinitely. I’m not telling you what to do, Bones. Just be careful.”

Amelia nodded.

“I will be.”

She didn’t quite understand what her fascination with Harry Jameson was. She couldn’t deny he was an interesting man simply because of what he’d been and done, but there was more to it than that.

When he wasn’t making jokes, teasing her, or demonstrating his ability with magic, he was rather introverted, pensive, and quieter than she’d expected.

If anything, her time with him in the forest had only increased her curiosity, and though Amelia knew she should curb it, it was easier said than done.

(Break)

He nodded satisfactorily at the bookshelf he’d finished arranging, eyeing the dog-eared volumes Sirius and Remus had gifted him for Christmas during his fifth year of Hogwarts.

Those had been his introduction to truly advanced defensive magic and had become the sturdy foundation on which he built his skill.

Having learned the Patronus Charm, Harry had known that magic was not as simple as muttering a few incantations and waving his wand in specific patterns. It was so much more than that. To become truly great, he needed to become one with his wand and the very magic that coursed through every fibre of his being.

Perhaps he’d learned that a little too late, but he knew it now, and he attributed that to his success.

He’d become a diligent wizard since defeating Voldemort, worked tirelessly, and still did, to fulfil his potential.

“I must say, I wasn’t expecting you to arrive until a few days before term started.”

“I like to be prepared, Professor,” Harry replied. “When I dedicate myself to something, I do so fully. The students here will rely on me to provide the best education I can, and I will not fail them.”

Dumbledore’s presence, as ever, was comforting, assuaging any doubts Harry may have been harbouring about whether he’d made a mistake in accepting the post.

He wouldn’t profess to fully trust the man standing beside him, but he knew Albus had never wished harm upon him and had never caused it with malicious intent.

That did not, however, change that he’d caused it, and whether that had been intentional or not, Harry would never forget it.

There had been so much Dumbledore could’ve done for him, but for reasons only known to him, he’d not.

Albus had taken many secrets to the grave, detrimental secrets that could’ve cost Harry the war and his life.

Nonetheless, although it was difficult to let go of that art of his past, he knew he could not hold it against the man now, not when he had no knowledge of what Harry had endured throughout his years.

“I am pleased to hear it,” Dumbledore murmured. “You have quite the collection of texts.”

Harry nodded.

“Knowledge is as paramount as the practical application. Without the former, the latter will always be lacking, and without the latter, the former means little.”

“Wise words,” Dumbledore acknowledged with a bow. “You’ve demonstrated both competently already with what you did in the forest.”

“Is this the part where you ask me what happened?”

Albus shook his head.

“You have your reasons for your secrecy, and I will respect that. I wish only to know what happened to the rest of the werewolves. There has been no mention or sighting of them.”

Harry shot a glance towards the headmaster and nodded.

He seemed concerned, not only for the danger they posed to the public but also for the werewolves themselves.

“I took them somewhere safe out of Britain,” Harry revealed. “Somewhere they can live in peace and without the likes of Greyback to lead them astray. Most followed him because they didn’t have any choice.”

Dumbledore offered him a smile.

“That was most kind and noble of you.”

“I don’t think anyone should be persecuted for something they cannot control,” Harry replied. “I knew a werewolf once. He was far from a perfect man, but he was much a product of the world around us. He was jaded when having someone fighting his corner would’ve made all the difference. I would sooner help them than cast them aside and see them suffer or return to a life of crime.”

Albus’s smile widened.

“I am very much in a similar position to yourself,” he responded. “I only wish those who could make a difference saw it in such a way. You have my personal gratitude for helping them, Harry. Truly, I admire your empathy.”

Harry nodded as Dumbledore left the office, seemingly lighter than when he’d entered.

He’d not told the man the entire truth but had given him enough to be assured the werewolves were both being taken care of and would no longer be a danger to Britain.

Still, he hadn’t made the easiest choice.

It would’ve indeed been easier to simply send the werewolves away from Britain, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that.

No, it was much better for him and them that they were given an opportunity to live a life of peace, though if they did step out of line after he’d helped them, he would not be pleased.

“I suppose I should’ve expected you to catch up with me,” he chuckled, becoming aware of a familiar presence in the doorway to his office. “What can I do for you, Auror Bones?”

Harry turned to meet the gaze of the woman.

She seemed to be torn on what she wanted to say. Her expression cycled through several emotions before she settled on irritation.

“I should throttle you,” she huffed.

“What for?” Harry asked with a grin.

“Don’t smirk at me like that,” she grumbled. “You knew this would happen!”

“Knew what would happen?”

“All the attention,” Amelia huffed. “I’ve not had a moment of peace since Greyback’s arrest was reported.”

“It will be quite the boost to your career,” Harry pointed out.

“One that I didn’t earn!”

Harry frowned.

“Didn’t earn?” he asked. “You were there with me from the very beginning. It was you that got the arrest.”

“You made it possible with whatever it was you did,” Amelia whispered. “You rode in on a basilisk!”

“I’d rather you never mentioned that again,” Harry requested. “I made use of an asset, as you would too, and that’s all.”

“A basilisk, Jameson? They don’t just appear from nowhere, and certainly not that big. I looked into it. The largest recorded specimen was thirty-five feet. The one you happened to find was almost double that. Where did you find it?”

Harry shrugged.

“It was around,” he answered coyly.

Amelia shot him a look of disbelief.

“Jameson, don’t insult my intelligence.”

“I’m not,” Harry assured her. “I have my secrets, and I prefer to keep them that way. Believe me, if there were another way of tackling that situation, I would’ve taken it. Just drop it, please.”

“Fine,” Amelia agreed. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

“You still haven’t written to Jenny. If I’m going to drop that, I’ll need to hound you about something else, won’t I?” she asked with a playful grin.

“No, not that either.”

“Oh, come on, Jameson. What’s wrong with her? She’s smart, she’s funny, and she’s nice.”

“I don’t date,” Harry sighed. “It doesn’t end well, and I have no interest in that kind of drama in my life, especially not with magicals.”

“You never struck me as a bigot.”

“I’m not a bigot. I just have bad experiences with dating witches.”

“How many have you dated to feel that way?” Amelia snorted. “I’m guessing a lot.”

Harry shook his head.

“Two,” he answered.

“Only two?”

Harry nodded.

“And you have decided to judge the rest of us by the two you’ve dated? Really, Jameson?”

Harry shrugged.

“Both were bad enough to put me off,” he said dismissively. “Maybe Jenny is a nice woman, but I have no interest in dating her. I’m sorry, it’s just not going to happen.”

“Not a romantic, then?”

“Are you?”

Amelia frowned as she shook her head.

“I’ve dated, but it’s never ended well. That doesn’t mean I think all men are disgusting pigs who are only after one thing.”

Harry chuckled amusedly.

“What went wrong?”

“I don’t know. Maybe men are intimidated by me because of what I do.”

“You are quite terrifying.”

Amelia rolled her eyes at him.

“Look who’s talking,” she snorted. “I’m just a woman like any other. I would like to maybe get married one day and have children. Just because I’m an Auror, that doesn’t mean I don’t want those things.”

“Well, I am surprised,” Harry chuckled. “You strike me as a career woman. Not that I think having a family is a bad thing. When I was younger, it was all I ever wanted.”

“What changed?”

Harry shrugged.

“I suppose you can’t miss what you never had,” he replied morosely. “Anyway, I have a few things I need to do before I head home. Was there anything else you needed?”

Amelia shook her head.

“Just to thank you for the opportunity to work with you. I learned a lot from it.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry said with a smile. “Maybe our paths will cross again.”

Amelia looked at him questioningly for a moment before nodding.

“Maybe they will,” she murmured. “Take care, Jameson.”

“You too, Auror Bones.”

She left, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy Amelia’s company. He just found that when he was with her, he ended up in the kind of situations he vowed to avoid.

Keeping his distance was for the best, particularly with her choice of career.

(Break)

Albus watched as Alastor paced back and forth in front of the fireplace in his office. He was troubled, an usual demeanour for the man, but when it came to his friendship with Amelia Bones, it was most understandable.

“I just don’t like it, Albus,” Moody grumbled. “She never keeps anything from me. Whatever happened in that forest has changed her. She’s not herself.”

“I expect it was quite the ordeal,” Albus mused aloud. “What is it that bothers you so? Is it not knowing or perhaps something else.”

“I don’t know,” Alastor sighed. “I get it. Sometimes things have to be kept a secret in our line of work, for various reasons, but this Jameson. Between you and me, I have it on good authority that he is or was a Hit-Wizard. Do you not think it strange for someone so young?”

Albus had been harbouring his own suspicions as to how Jameson was so well trained, and if Alastor believed he’d been among the elite of the ICW forces, then he would not doubt his friend.

“It isn’t unheard of,” he replied. “If someone is young but they show competence and talent, they can begin training upon their graduation. Form what I have seen of Harry, he certainly fits the criteria, though I cannot comment on whether or not he is or was a Hit-Wizard. Their identities are kept in the strictest of confidence. What I can tell you, however, is that since I have been the Supreme Mugwump, none have been brought before the ICW for disciplinary action.”

Alastor nodded, though he did not seem convinced.

“I don’t know, Albus. My gut is telling me that something isn’t right about him,” he grumbled. “I’m not saying he’s bad or that I expect he’s going to become a criminal mastermind, but there’s something.”

“Well, he will be here for the school year,” Albus pointed out. “I expect I will come to know him well enough.”

“You’ll keep an eye on him?”

“I do not think that is necessary, Alastor. He’s a good man,” Albus assured him. “He even went to the trouble to take the werewolves away to safety. I don’t expect that was easy to do, and he did so because he cares. You can’t say that about many.”

Alastor was taken aback by the revelation and he deflated.

“That’s what I mean. I do not think ill of him, I just can’t quite put my finger on what it is that has me so concerned.”

“Then do not allow him to plague your thoughts unnecessarily,” Albus urged. “If it makes you feel better, I will look out for anything undesirable, but I believe it will be a wasted effort.”

“Thank you,” Alastor sighed in relief.

Albus offered him a smile.

“Any idea when you will be assigned your new protégé?”

Moody shook his head.

“I expect around Christmas, or maybe during next summer. It depends on how well the training goes and if Grimm decides he wants to split our partnership up. I expect he will eventually, but he doesn’t seem eager to for the time being.”

“Then you have a little longer to work with her.”

“Aye, she’s a good lass. A little too eager at times, but she will go all the way to the top. Mark my words, Albus, she’ll be my boss one day.”

“How does that make you feel?” Albus asked amusedly.

“Bloody terrified for my future,” Moody chuckled.

(Break)

“What news, Corvus?”

The Lord Lestrange shook his head as he took a seat.

Nott’s manor was among the most prestigious in the entire country, and the man never let any forget it.

He’d often host their gatherings, offering the very best food and wine for his guests. Despite his rather sullen mood, Corvus poured himself a glass of sweet red and leaned back in his chair.

“He’s not happy about Greyback,” he sighed. “He wants him freed and the pack found.”

“Impossible,” Yaxley declared. “He’s now in the custody of the ICW. We have no contacts to make it happen.”

“And it will be our heads if we attempted it,” Rosier added. “Greyback is gone and Riddle will have to accept it. What happened to the pack?”

“No one knows,” Yaxley muttered irritably. “I spoke with Leach and he told me he has people looking into it. He doesn’t want a repeat of what happened to that village.”

“Muggle-lover,” Lestrange snorted. “Are we going to continue to tolerate him?”

“For now,” Corvus answered. “The more he shows deference to the filth, the more likely it is we will gain allies. It is a game of patience and letting the cards fall where they will.”

“Whilst he remains on the continent,” Nott interjected. “Does we even know what he is doing or why it will take so long?”

None spoke, reiterating the secrecy with which their former classmate operated.

“So, what now?” Nott questioned.

“I will speak with some of my contacts about possible places the werewolves could’ve gone. My guess is that they fled and have gone to ground. Without Greyback, they’ll fall apart.”

Corvus hummed thoughtfully.

“What about the auror, Bones? She might have an idea of where they’ve gone. It was her who brought Greyback in.”

“We can look into it,” Rosier suggested. “Let a little time go by where so much attention won’t be on her, and we can stage an intervention of sorts when her guard is down. With all the damned press still sniffing around, we don’t want to be caught short or let her become suspicious. She’s handy with her wand by all accounts.”

“So, we wait?” Nott asked.

“For now, until the dust settles,” Corvus decided. “When the time is right, we will get our answers.”