Written in the Stars - Devious Politicking

Devious Politicking

It was to a scene of chaos that Harry returned when he entered the kitchen at Grimmauld Place with Ana in tow. The members of the Order of the Phoenix had evidently been summoned to a meeting, and most of them were shouting over one another.

Harry frowned as he looked towards Lucinda, Jonas, and Eleanor, none of whom seemed to have any idea what had caused such fuss.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Harry snapped irritably, the dozen or so raised voices beginning to give him a headache.

“We are waiting for Albus to arrive and confirm it, but Minister Fudge was found dead at his home this afternoon,” Kingsley Shacklebolt explained.

Harry dragged a hand through his hair as he took a seat.

He had expected this to happen the moment Fudge proved himself no longer useful to Voldemort.

“You are certain of this?”

Shacklebolt nodded.

“I was with Bones when we received the message from his wife. I saw his body for myself.”

Harry released a deep breath.

“Then there will be an emergency meeting to install a new Minister,” he mused aloud. “Either Malfoy will push immediately for someone of his choosing, or he will attempt to stall.”

“Those are my thoughts precisely,” Dumbledore agreed gravely as he entered the kitchen.

“Then what would you suggest we do?”

“I do not know, Harry,” Dumbledore sighed tiredly. “The problem we face is that the news will break, and there will be none willing to accept the post from fear that they will be targeted.”

“I can’t say I blame them,” Harry muttered. “I suppose the best we can hope for is to prevent Malfoy getting in who he wants, but then that leaves us without a leader. Bollocks,” he added irritably.

Dumbledore nodded.

“It is quite the quandary,” he murmured.

“What about Bones, won’t she take the position?”

“I do not believe so,” Dumbledore replied with a frown. “Her own position would be difficult to fill, and she would reluctantly leave it. She will serve us best at her current post.”

“What about you?” Harry pressed. “Could Professor McGonagall not fill in as Headmaster just temporarily?”

“Minerva would make a fine Headmistress, but I do not believe even if I coveted it, I would be successful in being voted for. I have friends on the Wizengamot, Harry, but there are those that even agree with me politically that would not see me as Minister, especially in the times we face now.”

“Then I am out of ideas,” Harry huffed. “I suppose the best we can hope for is to stall whatever plans Malfoy has until we can come up with something.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore agreed. “The meeting will be called for first thing, and Amelia was quite insistent that you attend.”

“I’ll be there,” Harry assured the headmaster, already pondering just how to solve this latest, unneeded problem.

“If there is nothing else, then it would be prudent for us to get some rest,” Dumbledore urged. “We can meet tomorrow evening to discuss the events of the meeting.”

It was a rather downcast group of witches and wizards that filed out of the kitchen of Grimmauld Place to take their leave with only a few remaining behind.

“Do you have any idea of what the plan is, Snape?” Harry asked the Potions Master.

“I was not made aware of the intention to kill Fudge, Potter,” the man answered simply. “Unless I am summoned for a specific purpose, I am just as clueless as everyone else.”

“Tosser,” Harry grumbled as Snape swept from the room.

“You don’t fancy being Minister, do you, Moody?”

The grizzled ex auror guffawed at the very suggestion.

“Aye,” he confirmed amusedly. “The day they let me near that office will be the day the entire Wizengamot is as mad as they believe I am.”

“True,” Harry snorted. “It was just a thought.”

“And a desperate one at that,” Moody returned. “Albus will figure something out, Potter, he always does.”

Harry looked towards Dumbledore and could not help but think that this time, the man could well be out of his depth.

The headmaster seemed to be exhausted, and just as much at a loss as he was on the matter.

“What are you going to do, Harry?” Lucinda asked.

Harry could only shake his head.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “Did you manage to get it in?”

Lucinda nodded.

“It is in my room.”

“Then take it to mine,” he requested. “It will be one less thing hanging over me.”

“I will.”

With that, the vampire left the kitchen and Harry turned his attention to the rest of his friends.

“Has anyone heard from Cain?”

“Not a word,” Eleanor answered worriedly, “but it could take some time for him to find the pack.”

“I don’t think he has much of it,” Harry mused aloud. “Now would be the perfect time for Voldemort to get them into the country.”

“Then we had better hope Cain finds them and can keep us informed,” Jonas pointed out.

“He will,” Harry said confidently. “Kreacher?”

“Yes, Lord Black,” the elf questioned as he appeared in front of Harry.

“Can you prepare another room for Ana, please.”

“Kreacher has already seen it done.”

Harry offered the little elf a smile.

“Thank you, Kreacher. That will be all.”

The elf vanished with a gentle pop, and Harry looked towards his godfather who had just finished speaking with Tonks.

“I’ll be back soon,” Harry assured his friends before approaching Sirius who greeted him with a tight hug.

“Did everything go as well as you hoped?”

“It did,” Harry confirmed, “but there is something you need to see.”

Sirius frowned at the severity of Harry’s tone but followed him from the kitchen and up the stairs, nonetheless.

“What is it?” the man asked impatiently as they entered Harry’s room where Lucinda was waiting for them.

Harry said nothing but pointed to the glass case resting on his bedside table.

For a moment, Sirius simply stared at it in confusion before he realised what it was he was looking at.

Immediately, his face purpled with rage and he snarled incoherently as he drew his wand.

Harry reacted quickly, placing his hand on Sirius’s forearm before he could put his wand to use.

“Wait,” he said firmly.

Sirius looked at him in confusion before his gaze shifted back towards the tank and the now panicking rat within.

“He’s the reason they’re dead, Harry!”

“I know,” Harry murmured, “and no one has more right to take his life than you do. I know you’re angry, but you have a choice to make.”

“A choice?”

“Pettigrew is the only evidence we have of your innocence,” Harry pointed out. “If you kill him, you will spend the rest of your life on the run from the Ministry, and the world will forever believe that it was you that sold my parents out. I won’t stop you from killing him, Sirius. He deserves every ounce of agony and misery he has coming, but I would rather see you free to live your life, and I think that is what my parents would want too.”

Sirius’s jaw clenched, his hand trembling uncontrollably as he levelled his wand at the rat.

“You made a choice a little over fifteen-years-ago, and it was the wrong one. I’m not telling you what you should or shouldn’t do, I will accept whatever it is. But don’t act rashly, not when he is not worth your freedom.”

With that, Harry gestured for Lucinda to follow him from the room, and they left Sirius to his own thoughts.

“What do you think he will do?” Lucinda asked curiously.

Harry merely shrugged in response.

“It doesn’t matter,” he answered honestly. “If he chooses to kill him, that’s fine by me. It is his freedom that he has to consider. If it was up to me, I’d see the little bastard suffer every pain and indignity possible. Is it wrong that there is a part of me that wants Sirius to do that?”

“No,” Lucinda replied as she took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “He would deserve it for everything he has done.”

(Break)

He had quickly become exhausted from his efforts of tracking the pack. Apparating several times in quick succession was tiring enough, but with the full moon only a few days away, it was even more taxing on his body.

Nonetheless, Cain persevered.

When he could no longer apparate, he continued his journey on foot, looking for any signs that Greyback had passed through the parts of rural France he expected him to lead the pack through.

Still, after more than a day, the trail grew only colder.

Had they left Germany earlier than he previously thought?

Without knowing how the pack would be transported from France to England when they reached their destination, Cain did not feel confident enough to apparate ahead on the chance that his assumptions had been wrong.

Releasing a deep breath, he leaned against the trunk of a tree to rest for a moment.

He did not know what he would do when he found the pack, he just knew he had to find them.

Perhaps he would simply keep his distance and track them so that he could inform Harry of their movements.

Not that he wished for them to make it to England.

Eight hundred werewolves being added to Voldemort’s forces was a rather grim prospect, after all.

Maybe Harry already had a plan to prevent that eventuality?

With a shake of his head, Cain prepared himself and apparated for what he knew would the final time for an hour or so at the very least, stiffening upon arrival as a familiar scent filled his nose.

Blood, sweat, and the undeniable odour of the pack he had spent his life with.

They were close, and fortunately for Cain, he had appeared so that the wind was blowing his own scent away from them.

Carefully, he progressed on foot through the thick brush, and climbed to the top of a large hill, breathing a sigh of relief as he finally caught sight of a long column of people in the distance.

Now, he would have to exercise caution.

His parents believed him to still be at school and his presence would raise suspicion.

Regardless, he began to follow them at a distance, ensuring that he changed positions with the wind.

He had considered using a scent concealing charm, but in truth, he could not be certain of how effective it would be, so he dared not risk it.

Werewolves’ sense of smell, even when in human form, was second to none, after all.

The sun had long set before the column came to a halt, and with several fires lit, Cain felt confident enough to get closer.

He had promised that he would see if he could spot Remus Lupin amongst the pack.

Armed with only a photo of the man, Cain cast a disillusionment charm over himself and finally added a scent concealer, hoping the smell of the fires would help him avoid being detected.

It seemed to work.

None paid him any mind as he worked his way around the makeshift camp, sticking close to the plumes of smoke whilst he went about his task.

“How long until we get there?” one of the werewolves grumbled irritably.

“We will arrive tomorrow,” another answered.

“Then what?”

“Then we will be taken to England.”

It was frustrating to say the least that none spoke of just how that would be achieved, but Cain’s primary focus was not on the movements of the pack.

He had found them now and could continue to track them as needed.

No, he was roaming amongst the werewolves in an attempt to locate the wayward Remus Lupin.

Having navigated most of the camp without any sign of an outsider, Cain was all but ready to acknowledge that Remus was not here, however, that notion was readily dismissed when he heard a familiar voice barking orders near where the leaders of the column had settled for the night.

“Chain him up!” Greyback barked.

With a frown, Cain made his way towards where it had sounded, swallowing deeply as he stepped through a final cloud of smoke and spotted the limp figure being tied to a post that had been stabbed deeply into the ground.

As bloodied and beaten as he was, there was no mistaking the unconscious form of Remus Lupin.

Were it not for the heaving of his chest, Cain would have thought him to be dead, but evidently, Greyback wished for the man to suffer.

“I’m going to send Dumbledore your head,” Greyback declared.

His hands were swollen and dripping with blood from where he had just finished beating Lupin who did not respond to the threat.

If he was not freed and given treatment soon, it was likely he would not live more than another day or so.

Cain needed to act quickly, though even if he did manage to free Remus, he did not know what he would do.

In his current state, he would be unable to travel magically, and it did not appear that he would be walking of his own accord any time soon.

“Shit,” Cain muttered as he began retreating from the camp, pondering just what it was he could do.

(Break)

It had been yet another sleepless night for Harry after the revelation of Fudge’s murder, and though he had pondered little else, he was no closer to reaching a solution to the problem he now faced.

He simply could not allow Malfoy and his ilk dictate who would replace the man, but he also couldn’t afford too long a delay.

Without a Minister in place, the Wizengamot would be in chaos.

Even though Fudge had been all but useless and somewhat complicit in what was happening in wizarding Britain, his presence maintained a semblance of order, at the very least.

“Who’s the letter from?” Lucinda asked as she entered the kitchen.

It was still early, and the sun had barely crested the horizon so the rest of the house was still sleeping.

“Karkaroff,” Harry yawned as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot Elgar had brought him an hour or so prior.

“What happened to him?” Lucinda questioned curiously. “He just never returned in September.”

“I gave him use of a safe house in South America,” Harry explained. “Voldemort won’t find him there, and it has given him the chance to come to terms with what happened.”

“How is he?”

Harry shrugged in response.

“As well as can be expected. Physically, he’s doing better, but I doubt he’ll ever be what he once was. He was a nervous wreck when he left Durmstrang, so if he wasn’t paranoid enough before, he will be now.”

Lucinda nodded her understanding before taking a sip of Harry’s coffee, grimacing when she had done so.

“Not to your taste?” Harry snorted.

“It just tastes like ash to me.”

Harry chuckled as he folded Karkaroff’s letter and placed it within his robes.

“Do you know what you are going to do?” Lucinda probed gently.

Harry shook his head.

“Not entirely, but I have an idea,” he mused aloud, turning his attention towards the door as a bleary-eyed Sirius entered, clutching the glass tank with the seemingly unharmed Pettigrew still inside.

“I want him dead,” he huffed, “but I want my freedom.”

Harry nodded his approval as he relieved the man of his burden, though Sirius’s glare did not shift from the rat.

“I think you’ve made the right choice,” Harry offered sincerely. “Besides, you managed to break out of Azkaban. Once he is in there, what’s stopping you breaking back in?”

Sirius’s eyes widened and Wormtail began squeaking loudly.

“I never thought of that!” Sirius groaned.

“Well, then it is a good job you have a godson that does use his brain, isn’t it?” Harry mocked.

Sirius glared at him, but his mood had improved considerably at the poorly veiled suggestion.

“You were testing me,” he accused.

Harry shook his head.

“I wanted you to see beyond your anger for what happened to them,” he corrected. “We can’t change the past, Sirius, but we can shape what happens now. You made a mistake the night they were killed, and it cost you your freedom. How do you think my Dad would feel about that?”

“He’d probably kick my arse,” Sirius sighed. “James always was the more level-headed one.”

“And now you have me to be that for you,” Harry pointed out. “Bloody hell, go and get some sleep.”

Sirius nodded gratefully and headed towards the door, pausing before passing through it.

“Did you know what choice I would make?”

“No,” Harry answered honestly.

“But you wanted me to not kill him?”

“I wanted you to do what you felt was right,” Harry explained. “For what it is worth, I think you have, for your own sake.”

Sirius nodded as he took his leave of the room.

“I thought he would kill him,” Lucinda commented.

“It wouldn’t have surprised me if he did.”

The vampire offered him a smile as she took his hand under the table, tightening her grip slightly as the others began arriving for breakfast.

“Anything from Cain?” Eleanor asked worriedly.

“Not yet,” Harry sighed. “It could take a few days yet.”

They were all worried for the werewolf, and Harry regretted allowing Cain to leave.

Something just felt off about the excursion, but until he heard any differently, he had to assume all was well.

Or was it?

He shook his head of those maudlin thoughts as Cassiopeia entered the kitchen.

“Are you ready for today?” she questioned.

“The question is, are you ready?” Harry returned with a smirk.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re going to act as my proxy today,” Harry revealed, much to the surprise of the woman. “I’ll be there,” he assured her, “but I want to see the dynamics of the Wizengamot when I’m absent. I want to see how cocky Malfoy will act.”

“Are you sure about this?” Cassie pressed.

Harry nodded.

“I am. It will be funny to watch him shit himself when he sees you,” Harry chuckled, earning himself a chastising look from the woman.

“Harry, this is not a game,” she sighed.

“It is a game,” Harry corrected, “and it is one I intend on winning. By the end of the day, Malfoy and the rest of them will understand why they shouldn’t fuck with me.”

(Break)

The only other that had arrived before Albus to the Wizengamot chambers had been a rather grim and depleted Amelia Bones who had called the meeting a little after sunrise.

“I have a bad feeling about this, Albus,” she murmured.

Albus could not help but share the sentiment.

For most of the night, he had pondered just what could be done to prevent Lucius Malfoy exacting his will upon the other Lords and Ladies that oversaw the governing of wizarding Britain.

Much to his consternation, he could think of nothing.

At best, he could hope to delay the appointment of an unfavourable Minister of Magic, but even then, it meant the country would be without much-needed leadership.

“I must concur,” Albus sighed. “I expect we shall find ourselves in a most disadvantageous position before the day is out.”

Amelia released a deep sigh as she headed towards the podium where she would address the Wizengamot to inform those not aware of Cornelius’s passing.

Albus too took his place behind his raised chair and watched as the members of the Wizengamot began arriving, most seemingly not knowing the news.

It took around twenty minutes or so for the room to fill, but Albus could not ignore that one person of particular note had yet to arrive.

Just as he was pondering why it was that Harry was so late, the door opened, and Albus, along with the rest of those that had gathered balked as Cassiopeia Black entered the room, her expression very much mirroring that of her brother’s as she took seat belonging to the Black family.

“This woman should be arrested!” Lucius Malfoy declared, eying Cassiopeia warily.

“I was not aware that I am currently wanted for any crimes in Britain,” the woman returned airily, looking towards Amelia who cleared her throat.

“You are not,” she confirmed with a frown.

Cassiopeia merely nodded in response to the taken aback Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

“Excellent,” she declared, “but do feel free to attempt to apprehend me, Lucius. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to relieve you of your organs in a way that the Blacks of old would certainly approve of.”

Lucius glared at the woman but chose rather wisely to hold his tongue.

Albus did not know what Harry was playing at.

The Chief Warlock had no doubt the young man was in the room with them, but why had he decided to place Cassiopeia in his stead?

Albus frowned thoughtfully, though he was granted little time to do so as Amelia stood to address the Lords, Ladies, and members of the media in the public gallery.

“Before we begin, I have an announcement to make,” she said gravely. “Yesterday afternoon, we received a report of an individual who had perished at home. Having attended the scene, it was quickly established that the individual was none other than Cornelius Fudge.”

At the revelation, those who were not aware of the incident were in uproar, and the journalists began demanding answers to the many questions they had.

Albus banged his gavel atop his podium to silence the room, and when that failed, he drew his wand and unleashed a canon-like sound that reverberated off the walls.

Amelia offered him an appreciative nod.

“I will arrange for the members of the media to ask questions, but for now, I can confirm that we are treating the death as suspicious,” she explained. “It appears that Minister Fudge was purposely poisoned.”

“Murdered then?” Amos Diggory asked gruffly.

“That is the assumption we are working under,” Amelia clarified. “The investigation is ongoing, and will continue, but that is not why we are gathered today. It is of the utmost importance that we install another Minister as quickly as possible, even if it is only a temporary placement. I will now open the floor to those who wish to nominate themselves or put a name forward of anyone not in attendance who would be a suitable candidate.”

“I nominate Pius Thicknesse!” Lucius Malfoy declared immediately, receiving calls of approval from those within his block.

Amelia noted the name down with a scowl.

Thicknesse had been suspected of being a Voldemort supporter during the last war, but no evidence had been found of his involvement with the Dark Lord.

He may not be a Death Eater, but he was a sympathiser at the very least.

“Is there any other?” Amelia called.

Her request was met with silence.

Albus had expected such when Cornelius’s murder was revealed.

Every pair of eyes he looked into were fearful, marred with worry, but also frustration.

If only one of them could show enough bravery to nominate themselves, then all was not lost.

“Is there no other?” Amelia repeated.

The Lords and Ladies that would usually resist Lucius simply out of principal would not even look in the man’s direction now, choosing to look towards the floor instead.

“Very well,” Amelia murmured worriedly. “We will hold an official vote for Mr Thicknesse…”

“I nominate Cassiopeia Black.”

Albus scoffed as he looked towards where the journalists were seated to see Harry amongst them.

Upon giving his nomination, he stepped down from the public gallery, cutting an impressive figure as he walked to the centre of the room with a thunderbird perched on his shoulder.

The Lords and Ladies were talking animatedly amongst themselves, and Albus noted a look of concern from Lucius that gave him a glimmer of hope.

The prospect of Cassiopeia serving as Minister was not one that filled him with joy, but he could not help but acknowledge that it was quite the stroke of genius by Harry.

The woman herself, however, did not seem pleased and was glaring furiously at the young man.

“You must be joking!” Lord Nott snorted over the cacophony of noise. “Black as our Minister?”

“I think she would be perfect,” Harry returned evenly. “She has fought in a war and comes from the most prominent family Britain has to offer. She has my personal endorsement to lead us through what we cannot deny is here. Fudge was murdered because he was no longer useful to Voldemort, and now he wishes to place his own man in the highest office in the land. If we allow this, we may as well concede defeat and then you can spend your remaining days hoping he does not decide you are disposable.”

“Most of us our purebloods!” Lord Davies pointed out.

“Lord Boot and his family were purebloods,” Harry reminded the man. “The McKinnons, the Prewetts, and the Fawleys were too. The list of families no longer with us because they stood for what is right goes on.”

“Again with the baseless accusations,” Lucius chuckled.

“Baseless?” Harry questioned. “Then what do you call what is happening around us, Malfoy?”

“It is the work of Sirius Black!”

Harry laughed heartily as he shook his head, and Albus frowned in confusion.

“Well, considering I have apprehended the man responsible for the murder of my parents, I think we can finally rule out Sirius Black’s involvement, don’t you, Lucius?”

Lucius was unsettled by Harry’s words.

“What do you mean, Lord Black?” Amelia broke in.

“I found Peter Pettigrew,” Harry revealed.

Once more, Harry caused an uproar within the chamber and Albus had to resort to using his wand to silence it.

“You have Pettigrew?” Lord Greengrass questioned.

“I do,” Harry confirmed as he removed a small, glass box from within his robes and resized it.

Within, was a rat, scurrying back and forth in an attempt to escape.

“He is an Animagus and has spent the last fifteen years in this form, for the most part,” Harry explained.

All of the blood had drained from Lucius’s face as he looked at the rat, and for a moment, Albus thought the man may attempt something foolish.

“Sirius Black never supported Voldemort,” Harry said firmly. “Pettigrew was the one who gave my parents away. He then murdered those thirteen muggles before escaping, leaving Sirius to be blamed.”

The Lords and Ladies in the opposing block to Malfoy murmured amongst themselves.

“Now is the time that I need you to show courage,” Harry implored. “You can no longer deny what is happening here, and as I vowed to you the first time I visited, I will fight for you, but I need you to fight for me now. If Malfoy is allowed to have his way, there will be little I can do to end this. Vote for Cassiopeia Black. She is our best hope for what is coming.”

Albus watched the reaction of those Harry had appealed to.

They were no longer looking at the floor, but towards him as though they were trying to see something that inspired the needed courage.

“Can you win?” Amos Diggory asked bluntly.

Harry nodded.

“I will kill him even if it costs me my own life,” he replied sincerely.

Albus believed him, as did Amelia, and as he looked around the room, it seemed that there was none that doubted Harry’s solemn words.

Even Lucius and his ilk had become decidedly uncomfortable by the vow and were talking amongst themselves.

“Do you accept the nomination, Miss Black?” Amelia questioned.

With a final glare towards Harry, Cassiopeia flared her nostrils before nodding.

“I do.”

“Then we shall hold a vote,” Amelia announced. “All of those voting for Pius Thicknesse, show your wands.”

Around half of the room did so, and Albus felt his heart sink.

Harry’s words had not been enough to make the needed difference.

It took a moment for Amelia to count the votes for Thicknesse, and even she deflated when she had finished.

“Those who wish to abstain?”

Albus sighed as more than a dozen Lords and Ladies raised their wands to do so.

It was a pointless gesture.

Voldemort would not forgive them for such an approach.

“Those who wish to vote for Cassiopeia Black?” Amelia asked.

Once more, it was around half the room that raised their wands but Albus could not be certain how close the voting was. At first glance, there seemed to be as many voting for Cassiopeia as there was for Thicknesse.

“The vote stands at thirty-nine votes apiece for Pius Thicknesse and Cassiopeia Black,” Amelia announced.

Albus sank back into his chair.

With a draw having been declared, the Wizengamot meeting would be adjourned, and Lucius would undoubtedly find a way of stalling further votes until it was to Voldemort’s advantage.

“My vote is for Cassiopeia Black!”

The entirety of Lucius’s block turned to where the voice sounded from within their own group, each of them speechless, as was the rest of the room, at the sight of Lord Parkinson having raised his wand as he made his declaration.

“What are you doing, Parkinson?” Lucius snapped.

“I’m doing what is right,” Parkinson replied simply, offering Harry a respectful bow. “My vote is for Cassiopeia Black. If my math is correct, that would give her forty to Thicknesses’ thirty-nine.”

“It would,” Amelia confirmed, shaking off the shock that she too was feeling at Parkinson’s choice.

“This will be the end of you,” Lucius warned. “You know what you are doing is foolish.”

“So be it,” Parkinson returned. “My vote stands.”

With that, the man took his leave of the room, and Albus suspected he would not be seen for some time, if he managed to go into hiding before Voldemort found him.

“Are there any other votes?” Amelia questioned the room a final time.

When none spoke, it was with an unmistakeable sense of unease that she tapped the podium with her own gavel.

“Then by a majority vote, I hereby name Cassiopeia Black as our new Minister of Magic.”

Lucius and his allies were positively seething, but equally nervous.

They would have to break the news to Voldemort that they had failed in their efforts, and the he now faced a Minister who was all but untouchable to him.

Whatever Tom had planned had backfired spectacularly, and he would be quite wroth.

Knowing they had lost the day; Lucius and his comrades reluctantly left the room knowing there was nothing that could be done about the turn of events.

Albus could see that Harry was feeling rather pleased with himself, and as the meeting began to break up, he made his way towards the young man.

“She does not seem happy,” he commented.

Harry nodded his agreement.

“No, but she is what we need,” he replied. “It is those that do not seek power that are often best to be given it.”

Albus chuckled.

“That is quite the pearl of wisdom. Let us hope that it will be enough to placate Miss Black.”

“Oh, she’s going to tear into me,” Harry snorted, “but she’ll come around.”

Albus was not convinced.

Cassiopeia looked decidedly uncomfortable as many approached to offer their congratulations, and even more so when she found herself flanked by a team of aurors.

Eventually, she managed to excuse herself from the company of the other Lords and Ladies and made immediately made a beeline for Harry.

“What on Earth do you think you are playing at?” she hissed. “You did not mention this to me.”

“I didn’t plan it,” Harry defended. “The idea came to me whilst I was watching.”

Cassiopeia’s nostrils flared.

“I do not have the first clue on how to run a damned country!”

“You can’t be any worse than Fudge,” Harry pointed out. “You will be fine. You just have to surround yourself with people who do know what they are doing. I think you should speak to Bones first and hold a meeting with the heads of the departments.”

Cassiopeia shook her head.

“Why didn’t you just put yourself forward?”

“Because I do not have the time to be arsing around in an office,” Harry explained. “I have every faith in you. I need you to do this for me.”

Cassiopeia deflated.

“Fine,” she agreed, “but the minute he is gone, I get to stand down.”

“Agreed,” Harry returned readily, “and don’t worry, whilst you are here, you will have the best security team imaginable,” he added with a grin.

“The vampire?”

Harry nodded.

“I trust them implicitly to keep you safe. The same cannot be said for anyone else here. Now, Minister Black, don’t you have some work to be getting on with?”

Cassiopeia narrowed her eyes at Harry.

“I could throttle you sometimes, I really could.”

“It’s too late for that now,” Harry replied innocently. “Come on, I will stay with you until I can get the others here.”

With that, they took their leave of the chambers, and Albus could not help but think that perhaps Harry had made the right move.

He may not often agree with Cassiopeia Black, but maybe, just maybe, she was exactly the kind of leader Britain needed right now.

(Break)

He had hoped to have had Remus freed by the next evening at the very latest, but with the full moon so close, the pack was at their most restless and feral. As ever, skirmishes broke out amongst them, and Greyback has his hands full keeping the werewolves in line.

Tonight, however, was different.

The fatigue of their condition would get the better of them, and they would be at their most vulnerable.

Cain knew from his own experiences that the night before the coming of the full moon was the worst.

He was feeling the effects of his lycanthropy; the weakness, the lethargy, and the need to rest.

Despite this, he knew that now was the best time to liberate the outsider and get him to a place of safety.

Where that was, he knew not, but he would get no other chance to free Remus Lupin.

Already, he could smell the faint aroma of salt on the air.

The pack had almost reached the coast of France, and although Cain did not know how they intended to cross in Britain, he could not wait another night.

He had been watching as best he could from afar, and Remus had not walked a single step of his own volition for the more than a day now.

Were it not for the werewolves taking it in turns to carry him, Cain would assume the man had already perished.

Greyback would not waste time in bringing a corpse along, after all.

With the makeshift camp having grown quiet, Cain disillusioned himself and once more used the smoke from the burning fires to conceal his scent.

As expected, most of the werewolves were already sleeping, and those that weren’t were barely conscious and unable to pay too much heed to what was happening around them.

“Shit,” Cain murmured as he reached the unmoving form of Remus Lupin.

How the man was still alive was beyond him, and yet, he continued to draw pained, and rattling breaths.

His body was broken, however, and as Cain carefully moved him, Lupin groaned weakly.

“No more,” he pleaded.

Cain placed a hand on his forehead.

Along with the injuries inflicted upon him, Lupin had contracted a fever, and a cold sweat glistened upon his brow.

“You have to be quiet,” Cain whispered. “I’m a friend of Harry’s and I’ve come to get you out of here.”

“Harry?” Remus wheezed, his swollen eyes opening just enough to look up at him.

Cain nodded.

“This is going to hurt, but don’t scream. If they catch us, we will both be dead.”

Remus licked his cracked and dry lips before nodding, biting down on them as Cain cast a disillusionment charm, hoisted him from the ground, and placed him over his shoulder.

As gently as he could so not to exacerbate the man’s wounds, Cain carried him away from the campsite, and kept walking until he no longer could from his own fatigue.

Somewhere along the way, Lupin had passed out, but groaned once more when he was placed on the ground.

Despite breathing heavily and feeling the need for sleep, Cain removed the charm on the older werewolf and began inspecting his wounds.

He was in a bad way.

Several bones had been broken, and his flesh had been pulled off in lumps.

If he had been scarred before, it was nothing compared to how he would look if he managed to pull through.

For that, he would need immediate treatment, and though Cain was certainly no healer, he had brought along some potions that would help.

Silencing Lupin with a flick of his wand, he began pouring several down his throat, holding his mouth shut until he swallowed them completely.

Blood-replenishing potions, Pain Relievers, Skele-gro, and others that would help with the infected wounds.

When the cocktail had been consumed, Cain set to work repairing as much as the damage as he dared attempt, crudely cauterizing some of the more serious wounds.

Although Lupin thrashed around in agony, the silencing charm ensured he did not make a sound, and he soon passed out once more from the agony.

Cain could only watch the sleeping man in a sense of wonder.

How Lupin had not died was nothing short of a miracle, but he was not out of the woods yet.

It could take days for him to recover, and it was this thought that filled Cain with dread.

Lupin’s absence would not go unnoticed, and in less than twenty-four hours, the pack would transform.

Greyback would have every werewolf searching for Remus the moment he was aware of him being missing, a search that would continue long into the night.

“Shit!” he Cain cursed once more before heaving Lupin over his shoulder.

With Lupin in the condition he was, they could not magically transport, and with that in mind, Cain began walking once more, his pace much quicker than before.

He needed to put as much distance between them and the pack, because when they transformed, they truly would become the hunted.