Reconstruction of a Death Eater

Chapter 20 - Not Tolerated

The Romney Marshes were a lonely, ghost ridden place in the falling twilight of early winter. The wind made odd rustling and howls in the dry vegetation; the distant cries of seabirds coming in to land to avoid a storm at sea were the loneliest sound of all. Fifty people stood huddled together in a slight hollow, moving from foot to foot in an attempt to keep warm, a few looking askance at the distant tumbled down sheep fold which was the only sign of habitation in this god-forsaken, semi-frozen hell.

The triple pop of apparation made some look around but when the four men proved to be ordinary, cloak-huddled and wrapped people, they turned back to their rapt contemplation of the alter-like pile of rocks at one end of the natural amphitheatre. No one thought to question why three pops produced four people. The four newcomers huddled together as far from the rest of the crowd as possible, an unobtrusive silencing spell keeping their conversation private from all the sharp-eared werewolves before them.

"Looks like they aren't here yet, so tell me, what was the reason for all this wild secrecy?" Paddy O'Connell asked, blowing on his fingers in disgust.

"Greyback's at it again, recruiting for the Dark Side," Jonathon said grimly, carefully studying the members of the audience, noting who the disaffected and dissatisfied were. "I'm not sure why he is doing it, or what sort of deal he will offer, but I will bet it's of the kind that most people just dare not refuse. What I need are the names of anyone you recognise before he gets here, simply because you can be sure he will not let anyone leave unless they are willing to pledge some sort of commitment to him..."

"Damned right!" O'Connell snapped in disgust. "If you don't agree to do as he asks of you, you may find him lying in wait for your children one dark and moonlit night. I hate to say it, but I think he is a werewolf on all three nights of moon, not just the Wolfmoon."

Jonathon sighed. "He has eaten human flesh which means he is truly contaminated with the animal, rather more the wereman than the werewolf, I'm afraid."

"Good way to put it, Jon," Remus agreed, frowning when he saw Tobias Horfund off to his left. "Now what hold does he have on Horfund, I wonder? Tobias doesn't have a family that I am aware of."

"Oh, he has a family alright," Jon said flatly. "He is one of the few werewolves who managed to remain fertile and his children are trueborn werewolves. If the Ministry found out, they would be taken away and destroyed, and he would be executed immediately. Tobias has a great deal to lose. I only wonder how Greyback found out."

"Maybe someone ratted on him?" Paddy speculated, then stiffened as a group of black shrouded, white masked men apparated onto the rocky stage, a wild-haired figure in their midst. "Look out now, he's here."

"Welcome, my friends," Greyback said expansively, sweeping the assembly a low bow. He received a low-voiced growl in return. "Oh, come now, you are all here for your own reasons and self-interest, you can't say you aren't."

"Only because you threaten us," someone in the crowd jeered bitterly.

"Can any single one of you say I have threatened you personally?" Greyback sneered, then sniggered when the crowd moved uneasily.

Gorum was growling deep in his throat, a noise to make the hair raise on Remus' neck if he hadn't been growling himself. Jon laid a hand on each shoulder warning them to calm down a bit. Gorum almost snapped at the hand then gave a small, apologetic whine before he slipped from under his friend's control. "I go sniff around," he murmured and was gone, another shadow in the shadows.

Remus repeated a calming mantra and managed to bring his fear/hate/disgust under control. Jon let go of his shoulder with an approving pat and carefully made his way further forward in the crowd until he stood only a few feet from the front row, listening to Greyback spew his brand of rhetoric and poison over the assembly. Fenrir had not changed in all the time Jon had bumped into him, and McCarthy had been a werewolf a very long time. Where most werewolves showed the stress and aging their condition caused, Fenrir simply revelled in the carnage and bloodshed. In fact, that seemed to be the crux of the rant Greyback was in the process of delivering, along with a fine spray of spittle his vehemence caused.

"The Lord guarantees there will be enough blood so that none of us have to wear ourselves out in transformations every month; we will be rejuvenated instead of exhausted. Imagine you women keeping your fair beauty until you are eighty, ninety instead of looking like worn-out old hags by the time you turn thirty? Admit it; you would do anything to remain in the first flush of youth."

"Except prey on children..." a voice called anonymously from the crowd.

The Death Eaters stirred irritably, and Greyback growled furiously but stopped when a commotion began at the back of the crowd, spreading as someone pushed forward without regard for good manners.

"Alpha! Alpha!" Gorum's voice rose in fear and what sounded like loathing as he literally pushed people out of his way in his search. "Oh, Alpha, it's awful. Cubs, look, babies in the sheepfold," he exclaimed as he located Jon and all but hopped from foot to foot in agitation. His left hand was firmly wrapped around the upper arm of a girl of perhaps thirteen who clutched a little boy of less than three in her arms. A pair of boys no more than seven clung to the ragged edge of the man's robes and tried to hide from the sight of the swelling fury on the stage.

"I told you lot to stay in the hut," Greyback snarled furiously.

The girl wrenched her arm free and ran toward him, the stink of urine and terror raw in the air. "Please don't hurt us, please, we tried, we tried!" she shrieked in terror, but the incensed man simply backhanded her out of the way, snatching the child from her arms as she flew backward and landed with a soggy thump almost at Jon McCarthy's feet. She didn't move again.

Before anyone could react, Fenrir Greyback held the small boy out at arms' length, his hand wrapped around the child's thin neck. The crowd surged, but they were wolves and the cub was choking; they were in a dilemma. The mutters of unrest were becoming a low-grade snarl underscored and punctuated by the cries of the two small boys who clutched Gorum and cried softly into his robes.

"Fodder, nothing but fodder; they are Muggles, legitimate prey for our species. Sweet meat and tasty, too," Fenrir sneered, suddenly realising who was confronting him across the space around the girl's still body. "So, the Alpha of the British Werewolves dares to show his face in my presence at last, does he? I have been waiting for you, old man."

"Have you now?" Jon asked, reaching out to pat Gorum gently. "Greyback, you give all werewolves a bad name. Are your so-called youthful looks and energy worth the price you pay? And what do you pay him you call Master, your fear and fawning? Are you a wolf or a mere pet animal that does his bidding and licks his boots when he tosses you a bone? And is this rampage amongst innocent children your reward from your Master? You are pathetic!"

Greyback roared and shook the child, the snap of his neck clearly audible as he threw the body at Jon's head before charging. The crowd roared back, surging forward as their Alpha carefully caught the dead child, passing it quickly to Gorum who took it and huddled over the last two living ones. The Death Eaters on the stage snatched out wands but were too slow to pit their human reflexes against the incensed werewolves that swarmed over them, howling and snarling. Their inner wolves were freed of all restraint as the five Death Eaters were dragged down and torn to pieces before they could apparate away.

Snarling and snapping, Greyback and McCarthy squared off, fury and the need to conquer fuelling a battle of epic proportions. Both were strong and in their prime, Greyback obviously younger and faster, but McCarthy was a wily fighter, veteran of many a dominance battle. In wolf form they would have used their teeth and jaws but in human form these weapons were not as effective as fists and feet as Greyback found out. Steeped in his wolf, he forgot his humanity and tried to be wolf only to run into McCarthy's very fast and potent right hook. Staggering slightly, the wereman tried to snap and grapple, but Jon danced back and kicked him in the solar plexus, making him howl in agony, his breath forced out.

Fenrir clasped both arms over his middle, doubling over as he staggered past, the shock of taking a beating jarring him back to his senses. His fingers found his wand grip and as he turned, he pulled the blackthorn wand, but Jon was quicker, Expelliarmus already ringing out. Greyback spun on the spot with the force of the spell but kept coming, his arms held wide to grapple, his fingers showing claws now. McCarthy's wand became a knife and plunged to the hilt in the enraged man's chest, slashing and opening his heart in one stroke. The momentum of his body bore Jon to the ground and knocked the wind out of him for a few moments, enough to allow a stray hex to fly harmlessly over his head.

Remus turned but Paddy O'Connell was already taking the last of the Death Eaters down, tossing his body into the seething, snarling crowd. Remus hurried over to drag the limp form of the rogue wolf off his Alpha, bending to find the pulse at McCarthy's neck and grinning as the older man managed to gasp a breath, then a better one.

"Still with us then, Old Man," Remus grinned in relief, a showing of teeth only.

"Still with you, Kid," Jon managed to gasp back, taking the offered hand and allowing Remus to pull him to his feet to survey the fury of the crowd. Tossing back his head he howled, long and loud, calling the wolves to order with all the authority of his Alpha status that had been proved once again in the face of a major Challenge.

Reluctantly, the wolves drew back, the blood red fury draining away, leaving them slightly ashamed of the animal instinct that had possessed them all. Jon surveyed them carefully then sighed as he limped over to the mound and climbed up to address them. "Greyback is dead; I have destroyed him. I am the Alpha, does anyone dispute this?" he asked arrogantly, glaring down at the massed crowd. All eyes fell; all heads bowed, some slowly, many in sheer, unconcealed relief. "These are my words to you all. We are werewolves. The Dark Lord and his minions are not our kind! If we turn to them then we will be dragged down into the pit of their digging. If they come to you and threaten you again, do not bend to them, call for reinforcements. We are pack animals, and we have to support each other. You Alphas, get organised, talk to your pack members, make a plan, and start defending each other and your human families. Attacking Muggles is not the way to find salvation; it is the road to madness and death. The whole werewolf nation needs to start banding together and protecting our own from the Dark Lord and anyone else who would use us to their own ends. I include the damned Ministry in that lot, too. Spread the word, a meeting of all Alphas will be called for December Moon on the Yorkshire Moors. Be there!"

He was about to jump down when someone pushed through the crowd and Tobias Horfund stood hipshot and challenging in the circle around Gorum and the children's bodies. "All very well, Alpha, but what about this lot? We have two dead children, two live ones and the tattered remains of five Dark wizards to deal with. What do you suggest there, Old Man?"

Jon paused and stared down at the younger man until he dropped his eyes and his attitude a little. "Gorum, can you bring the children here?"

The simple werewolf managed to nod and carefully drew the two boys forward, avoiding the blood and gore on the grass until they stood at the foot of the mound. The two children, dirty and ragged, clung to the last vestige of stability they could find as the adults looked them over. Jon hunkered down to their level and lifted the first boy's chin, looking for the signs. "Have you been turned?" he asked gently, not seeing anything obvious. "Did the werewolf bite you?"

The boy shook his head but held out his arm where a long deep scratch festered. The other boy moved, too, to show a matching scratch and Jon sighed deeply. "Do you know where you live?" The both nodded. "Are your families wizards or Muggles?"

One boy said wizard and the other just looked confused so Jon assumed he was a Muggle. Rising, Jon beckoned Remus and Paddy over. "Any suggestions?"

Paddy nodded. "They're both infected, even if they haven't turned yet. They can't go back even if their families wanted them. If we turn them over to the Wizengamot, you know who will get the blame for all this, don't you?"

"Give them to me," Tobias said gruffly, coming up behind the huddled group.

"Why would we do that?" Jon asked with hidden amusement.

"Because I have a couple of cubs about their age at home, as you very well know, Jonathon McCarthy. My wife's sister can look after them if they don't turn for a few moons."

Jon nodded thoughtfully. "Seems like a plan. So, boys, do you want to go with Tobias to his house and meet his children?"

The boys simply looked terrified and bewildered while Paddy snorted and Tobias shook his head. "Well saying you are a bachelor," he remarked as he hunkered down beside the boys and put an arm around each. "Come on, kids, we're going home," he said softly and apparated.

"One problem solved, next!" Jon muttered under his breath as he climbed to his feet and surveyed the bloody mess on the ground all around them. "Right, you lot, I want all this removed, every last trace of blood, hair, scent, anything that might indicate there was an incident here, understood? Our lives and safety depend on this kill site never being discovered by anyone, Dark or Light. What about the children? What can we do about them? Their families must be going insane with worry."

"Let me get photographs of them, and I will give them to my contacts, see if they can be identified. If you get Tobias to send me a photo of the boys, I'll try and get them identified too, then we can decide what to do about them," Remus volunteered with a heavy heart.

"Good plan. Gorum, come here, my friend. Are you alright, are you hurt at all?"

The simple man was still sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve, but he appeared to be unhurt physically. "That girl, Jilly, say me not to hurt her, then say me not to leave or he kill her. I say no, I look after but I diddn'! I diddn'!" He wailed aloud, the noise more like a howl than a human cry.

Both Remus and Jon sighed sadly, patting and stroking the bowed head, trying to reassure him he had done the right thing but the man was inconsolable. "Gorum, Fenrir was a very bad man, very bad wolf, a rogue. You could not have even thought he would hurt a cub, never even dreamed of such a terrible thing, so how could you possibly stop it? You did your best, that's all you can do and your best has saved two little boys from being eaten alive by Fenrir's horrible perversions. One of the boys is a Muggle, Gorum, you know what that means, don't you?"

The man's eyes widened in horror, and he covered his mouth as if to stop the terrible truth from escaping.

"That's right, Fenrir was creating Muggle werewolves, so he could let them free in both human and wolf society. The girl is a Muggle too, Gorum, so you didn't do a bad thing, you simply stopped her from becoming a real monster. If she had known what was going to happen to her, do you think she would have liked to stay alive and face that?"

"No," Gorum said firmly.

"Right, so stop blaming yourself, okay?" Jon and Remus exchanged long, sad looks over the bowed head of their simple pack member before Remus carefully and completely transfigured the two children into rocks, picking them up and presenting them to Gorum. "You find a nice place for them to be for the rest of their time, how's that?"

Gorum accepted the charge and nodded sadly. "You take me home, now?" he asked of Remus who nodded and offered his arm to apparate the simple wolf away.

~~*~~

"Morgenstern, the Pittwater brothers, Dalgettie and Alba Mulciber have disappeared completely off the face of the earth, not to mention my pet wolf Greyback," Lord Voldemort mused quietly as he studied the fire, never looking up at the audience which had suddenly frozen in place. "It is very odd that, when they all go to a meeting with each other, they do not return and there is no trace of them anywhere."

Everyone looked around wildly, hoping against hope that someone else might answer.

"Perhaps Greyback finally lost it and disposed of them carefully." The voice was rusty and hoarse, but it made the Dark Lord smile slightly as he turned and looked across at the darker pool of blackness near the door. The shadows moved and a pale face seemed to float into the circle of light shed by the fire, the rest of the congregation falling back hurriedly. "Ah, Severus, I am surprised to see you so soon."

"I am hard to eliminate," he muttered, moving very slowly and carefully.

The Lord bowed ironically as his lieutenant moved into place at his right hand as usual. "What do you know of Greyback's disappearance?"

"Factually, nothing. I have been somewhat indisposed these last few weeks, if you recall. I may speculate, basing some of that speculation on knowledge of the werewolf and his usual practices. It is common knowledge that Greyback preys on human flesh, usually young children; whether Muggle or Wizard doesn't seem to make much difference to his appetite. He has been known to take what he can get whenever he can get it and, if any of the others were injured or killed, I would assume he had, er, 'disposed of the remains thoughtfully'? However, since he has also disappeared, I would direct an inquiry to the Ministry and see if there are any new werewolf ingredients being processed. After all, if he was caught in the act, so to speak, they may have executed him and used his carcass to boost supplies."

The Lord sank his chin onto his chest thoughtfully, then sighed. "It has merit. Wormtail! Have you anything to tell me?"

There was a stir near the Lord's feet, and the fat, sweating Wormtail crawled out of the dark near the fireplace and fawned at his Master's knees, his silver hand flashing momentarily in the firelight. "Master, the werewolves tore the Death Eaters to pieces and the so-called Alpha of the British Isles took Greyback apart, then they all cleaned up the site and apparated away," Wormtail reported with a sly look at Snape.

"Pity," Severus sniffed softly.

"And why is that, my Severus?" the Lord asked in faint amusement.

"I have need of some werewolf parts and could have used the carcass," Severus replied indifferently.

"Ah, Severus, you never fail to amuse me. So, the werewolves have declared for the Light, have they?" His red eyes pinned Wormtail to the hearth rug.

"My Lord, they have declared for the Werewolf Nation." Wormtail cringed even lower as the Lord's eyes flashed in displeasure. "The Alpha told them all to stay neutral and to avoid any conflict with anyone, Dark or Light."

"Damn that fool! Severus, there is a werewolf you can make into any potion you like, if you can catch him," the Lord snarled, turning back to the fireplace. "Leave us! Lucius, stay."

The court removed themselves, some faster than others, Severus the last to depart. He shot Lucius an inquiring look as they passed, but Lucius only shrugged almost imperceptibly as he closed the door behind the Potions Master.

In the silence that followed the final departure, the Lord sighed then turned to pin Lucius to the spot. "The Ministry have been prying into things that do not concern them. They have taken a certain artefact from the place where I left it and hidden it in the Ministry building, probably somewhere in the Department of Mysteries. I want it back, intact and unharmed, no matter what the cost. Do you understand me?"

Lucius bowed low as the Dark Lord apparated away, an image of the object embedded deep in his mind like a poisoned dart.