Amelia had never seen anything like it. She'd spent her career thus far in many violent altercations and had seen wounds that would make those of a weak stomach void its contents. She'd been on the receiving end of vomit, covered in blood, and had endured her own fair share of injuries but had never witnessed such slaughter that was laid out before her.
An entire village.
In the space of one night, an entire village in the west of England had been decimated.
"Werewolves," Alastor said darkly, nudging a dismembered arm with the tip of his boot. "I'll give you one guess who is responsible."
Amelia didn't need it.
There was only one pack on her mind big enough to do this, and as she caught sight of the bloody corpse of a young girl, the reality of what she faced truly set in.
It was one thing to hear of the atrocities Greyback had caused across the continent, but to see it for herself was not something she'd been prepared for.
"So much for keeping his presence quiet," she murmured.
When the media inevitably learned what happened, they would have a field day. The Auror office would come under heavy scrutiny and be branded incompetent for failing to prevent the attack.
Amelia couldn't blame them, and it would only be worse if they learned they knew of Greyback's presence and had seemingly done nothing of note, or inform the public, at the very least.
"Aye, it's going to be a shitstorm," Moody muttered as though he'd read her thoughts, "and that storm is just beginning," he added, nodding towards the approaching, red-faced Head Auror Grimm.
"Well, I think we can say that this went completely tits-up, didn't it?" he asked rhetorically. "I can only imagine the state of my arse after it's been chewed out by Smith, let alone the Minister. Ah, bollocks!"
"Aye, you're not wrong," Alastor grumbled. "Anything we can do?"
"Find him," Grimm huffed. "Find Greyback and do whatever is necessary to stop him."
Alastor nodded, and Auror Grimm returned to surveying the scene, leaving them to do the same.
"They can't be far from here," Amelia murmured. "How far can a pack of werewolves get after something like this?"
"Not far," Moody agreed. "They must be close."
"There must be a trail," Amelia mused aloud. "They could only have fled on foot."
"Then let us find it," Alastor urged. "The trees in the distance would be a good place to start. That's where the moon would've been brightest."
Amelia nodded and followed as the man led the way, using the trail of destruction and canine footprints as a guide.
For almost an hour, they tracked the pack into the woodlands, pausing as they came into a clearing where they'd evidently stopped to rest.
"They were here," Alastor murmured.
"But not anymore."
"Aye," Alastor concurred, using his wand to cast a series of detection charms. "Portkeys. They waited until they turned back and used portkeys. There's a trail, but it is faint. I don't think I'll be able to follow it."
"Can you preserve it?" Amelia asked.
Alastor nodded.
"I can."
"Do it. I know someone who might be able to help us."
"Your Hit-Wizard friend?"
"You sound a little jealous, Alastor."
"No, just curious," the man replied with a smirk. "I knew there was more to Jameson."
"Jameson?"
"Don't be coy, Bones. Even an idiot could've figured it out. Jameson is the Hit-Wizard. Your secret is safe with me, as they have always been."
Amelia scowled at the man but couldn't bring herself to lie to him.
"You know how it is, Alastor. I couldn't tell you."
"And you didn't," he pointed out. "Go on, I'll send for a few others to help guard whilst you get him."
Amelia nodded and apparated to Diagon Alley to speak with the man who'd helped her considerably in recent days to ask for his assistance once more.
(Break)
It had been so long since he'd last looked up at Hogwarts, and when he'd done so in his most recent of memories, the castle had been different, irrevocably changed from the battle that had taken place there.
Now, it was as Harry chose to remember it in its former glory before Voldemort and his Death Eaters had destroyed much of it in his own time.
It almost brought a tear to his eye to see it again, and Harry could not deny that it felt like home.
Hogwarts had been the first place he'd felt wanted or that he truly belonged.
The Dursley had despised his presence, and at best, he'd been a tolerated trespasser.
The castle had been his escape from that, where he could enjoy something of a childhood, even if the threat of the Dark Lord baying for his blood had always been present.
Somehow, against the odds, Harry had survived, and though life had not been so kind to him since he yet breathed whilst Voldemort was dead.
Well, he had been dead, at least.
Somewhere here, the Dark Lord lived and was plotting an uprising that wizarding Britain was unprepared for.
Breathing a laboured sigh, Harry tapped the gate with his wand and waited until a familiar, large figure approached with his crossbow in hand.
He fought the urge to smile at the sight of the man who'd introduced him to the wizarding world. Perhaps Hagrid had not been the best choice to do so, but Harry had always been grateful it had been him.
"Who are ya? What do ya want?"
"Hello," Harry greeted the man, saddened he did not recognise him. "I have an appointment with Professor Dumbledore. My name is Harry Jameson."
Hagrid lowered his crossbow as he nodded.
"He mentioned ya to me," he rumbled. "Ya best come on in. I can take ya to 'im."
"Thank you, Mr…?"
"Rubeus Hagrid, Gamekeeper and Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts," Hagrid introduced himself as he unlocked the gate and gestured for Harry to enter.
"It's nice to meet you, Mr Hagrid," Harry replied, offering his hand.
Hagrid's own enveloped his, and he almost tore Harry's arm as he shook it.
"And you, Mr Jameson."
"You can call me Harry. Mr Jameson makes me feel old."
Hagrid chuckled a familiar chuckle that warmed Harry.
"'Arry it is. Are ya here to apply for the Defence job?"
"I'm here to see if I want to accept it," Harry answered, following Hagrid towards the castle. "Professor Dumbledore has already offered me the job."
"He's a great man, Dumbledore. He gave me my job when he didn't have to."
Harry nodded.
He knew Hagrid's story better than anyone else.
Having been expelled and being half-giant, his prospects in Britain were grim at best, but Dumbledore had somewhat remedied the injustice by giving Hagrid a job and a place to call home.
"I met him briefly when he came to visit me. He seemed very nice."
Hagrid smiled and nodded before a frown formed on his brow.
"You didn't come to Hogwarts?"
Harry shook his head.
"No, I had a private education. I missed out on the Hogwarts experience."
It was a story Harry had decided on.
He would give half the truth of what his life had been like, but of course, he would omit much of it.
It was not as though he could explain away how he found himself here when his own parents could barely be a year old or two at most.
"It's quite the sight, ain't it?" Hagrid asked, pulling him from his thoughts.
"It is," Harry agreed as they ascended the steps into the Entrance Hall.
This was a part of the castle that had been destroyed during the battle, and the newer version of it had not quite captured the castle's former magic.
"Professor Dumbledore's office is on the fifth floor," Hagrid explained.
Harry nodded as he followed the man, enjoying the memories that flooded his mind as they made their way there.
They passed the trophy room where Malfoy was supposed to meet him for their midnight duel during the first year, the third floor, which had housed the Philosopher's Stone, and Harry even caught sight of the portrait of the bowl of fruit that led to the kitchens.
He had fond memories of visiting Dobby and being inundated with more food than he could eat.
It brought a smile to his lips as he looked across the grounds through one of the windows and where the Quidditch Stadium was.
He'd spent countless hours there, honing his skills on a broom and playing the sport he'd fallen in love with.
In recent years, there'd not been much time for Quidditch. He always kept his Firebolt with him, but other than sporadic, leisurely flights, it hadn't been used much.
"Here we are," Hagrid declared. "Liquorice Torpedoes."
The gargoyle they found themselves before sprang to the side, revealing the staircase that led to the headmaster's office.
Once more, following Hagrid, the enormous man knocked on the door and entered when he was bid to do so.
"Professor Dumbledore, Har… Mr Jameson to see you, sir."
"Thank you, Hagrid," Dumbledore replied warmly.
It was odd to see the headmaster alive again and appearing so young.
Harry had been taken aback by the man's arrival at the restaurant and hadn't had time to process his presence before he was gone. Although he had mixed feelings about Dumbledore, there was something comforting about him being here.
He wished the man had been more candid with him about what he was expected to do, but he had come to understand his reasoning for keeping Harry in the dark.
It had taken time, and perhaps he wasn't fully there yet, but he'd forgiven Dumbledore for his part in the chaotic mess his life had been.
"Thank you for coming, Mr Jameson," he greeted Harry with a smile. "I must say, I was surprised that you accepted my invitation. You did not seem so keen on the possibility of working here."
"It took me by surprise," Harry answered honestly. "I've only just gotten my business set up, and now this."
"Does that mean you are considering the post?"
"Would I be here if I wasn't?" Harry replied amusedly.
Dumbledore chuckled as he stood.
"How about I give you a tour of the castle while I explain the job? It is a fair day for us being so far north. I will say that the winters here are rather unforgiving."
Harry nodded and gestured for the headmaster to lead the way.
Descending the staircase, they remained silent, though that only lasted until they stepped into the corridor below.
"There are seven floors in Hogwarts," Dumbledore explained, "and also the dungeons where the Potions classes are held by our esteemed Professor Slughorn. I don't expect you'd need to venture down there much, but that is also where the Slytherin common room is. Are you familiar with the house system?"
"I am," Harry confirmed. "I did my research before coming."
"Excellent, that will save me explaining it," Dumbledore replied. "Perhaps it would be best if you ask any questions you wish to as I show you around."
"How many students are here?"
"With the incoming first years, it will be around eleven hundred students."
That was considerably more than when Harry had attended Hogwarts.
The war had evidently dwindled the number of students, and it home just how many must've perished along with his own parents and the others Harry knew of.
"The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom is just along this corridor," Dumbledore explained as they reached the fifth floor. "Here we are."
It was the very same room Harry had taken his own lessons in with the various professors he had throughout his schooling: Quirrell, who turned out to be possessed by Voldemort; the cowardly Lockhart, Remus, Barty Crouch Jr posing as Alastor Moody, Dolores Umbridge, and Severus Snape.
When he'd returned to complete his NEWTs after the war, he'd opted to take the exam and had passed with flying colours.
Harry had learned much on the run, much more than he'd needed to pass.
"Just up those stairs is the office, and through there, sleeping quarters should you need them. Whilst you are here, the school house-elves are available to you. I only ask that you treat them with the utmost respect. They may serve those within the castle, but they are as much a part of the castle as the very foundations that holds it up."
"Of course," Harry assured the man, eliciting a smile from Dumbledore.
"The floor above is where Transfiguration is taught by the exceptional Minerva McGonagall. If you've studied the subject in any capacity in the past ten years, I expect her name is familiar to you."
"It is. She is thought of as one of the best in the field."
"And we are very fortunate to have her," Dumbledore said proudly. "I expect she would be impressed with your accomplishment in the subject. Not many students achieve an Outstanding at NEWT level. Transfiguration is one of the most complex subjects to master."
Harry nodded his agreement to both observations the man had made.
Minerva would be impressed, considering she had taken the time to teach him.
He'd spent many hours under the woman's tutelage when he'd returned to Hogwarts, and his effort had shown.
Harry's father had been exceedingly talented in Transfiguration, and Minerva had refused to allow Harry to achieve anything less than an Outstanding. It had not been easy, but with her help, he'd become very proficient in the art.
Without the Horcrux hampering his focus, the subject had become easier, and with Minerva's help, the intricacies had fallen into place.
Along with Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts, which was a combination of several practical magicks, Transfiguration had become one of his best subjects.
"Ah, here she is now," Dumbledore declared.
Harry was hard-pressed to associate the approaching woman with the one he'd come to know so well.
It was undoubtedly Minerva McGonagall, though younger.
Her hair had not greyed yet, and the wrinkled visage Harry was familiar with was much more youthful.
"Minerva, I would like you to meet Harry Jameson. He is considering accepting the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor for the coming year."
The woman quirked an eyebrow at Harry as she stared at him speculatively.
"Sorry, you looked oddly familiar for a moment," she offered apologetically. "It is nice to meet you, Mr Jameson."
"And you, Professor McGonagall," Harry returned with a smile. "I have read some of your research and found it most fascinating."
"You like Transfiguration?" she asked, surprised.
"I use it a lot for defensive purposes. It is one of the most versatile and useful branches of magic."
"It takes quite the practitioner to use it effectively in such a way. You must be rather talented."
"I had an excellent teacher," Harry said fondly.
Minerva smiled.
"It is always nice to hear of people being inspired by those they learn from. Please, feel free to come and discuss your opinions on my work. I'd be rather curious to see your own methods for Defence Against the Dark Arts and how you use Transfiguration."
"I will do that," Harry assured her. "It was nice to meet you."
"Am I to take it that you are going to accept the post?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry nodded.
"I wasn't entirely decided before I came, but having met Mr Hagrid and Professor McGonagall, I think I would regret it if I didn't. I'm sure there is much I can learn here, and just as much as I can pass on to the students."
Dumbledore nodded; relieved Harry had chosen to accept the position.
"Well, then perhaps we should return to my office and I can fill you in on the curriculum and any other details you will need to be aware of," he suggested.
"Lead the way," Harry urged.
He'd been honest about not having decided before arriving, and perhaps it was a mistake to have come at all.
Harry should've known that having been back in Hogwarts in the way he remembered most fondly it would be all but impossible to decline the post here, but he had no regrets.
Yes, he wished to live a peaceful life free from war, but that didn't mean he had to deny himself of everything he'd once held so dear.
Hogwarts always had a place in his heart, and even if he spent one-year teaching, he would never consider it to be a waste of his time.
(Break)
She felt almost like a pauper with hat in hand as she approached the restaurant to ask Harry Jameson once more for his help. Were it not for his demonstrable, innate ability to detect magic, Amelia would not do so, but for something this important, she would, as difficult as it was, put her pride aside for the sake of finding Fenrir Greyback.
Much to her relief, she found the door to the establishment unlocked, and as she entered, she was greeted by the manager.
"Sorry, Miss, we won't be open for a couple of hours yet for lunch. Oh, it's you, Auror Bones," he acknowledged with a frown. "How can I help you?"
Amelia found his attitude to be rather flippant towards her, but she chose not to comment on it.
"I need to speak with Jameson. Is he here?"
"I'm afraid not. He's away on business and has asked not to be disturbed unless the restaurant is burning down. His words, not mine."
"Do you know where I can find him? It is a rather urgent matter I must discuss with him."
The man put the glass he was polishing on the bar and released a deep sigh.
"I don't know where he is."
"Would he be at his house?"
The man shrugged.
"If he is, I have no idea where he lives."
"Is there anything you can tell me?"
"Mr Jameson is a private man. I work for him, and I don't ask about his personal life. It's not my business."
Amelia nodded.
"Well, when you see him, can you tell him to get in touch immediately, please?"
The man nodded reluctantly.
"I'll pass on the message," he assured her.
"There'll be no need for that," a welcome voice declared. "Auror Bones, is there something you need me for?"
Amelia's gaze flitted between Jameson and his manager before she nodded, remembering his wish for their association to be kept to a minimum.
"There's been a development pertaining to the murder of Imelda Smith. I was hoping to access the list of guests that night. You have my apologies; I should've requested a copy before now."
"It's quite alright," Jameson sighed. "That book has been filled, I believe, Thomas?"
"It has, sir," Thomas confirmed. "I gave it to you."
"You did," Harry confirmed. "I can bring it to your office in, say, fifteen minutes. I expect it is with the rest of my paperwork at home."
"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Jameson."
"Anything for our Aurors," Jameson replied sweetly.
Amelia nodded and took her leave of the restaurant, doubting that Thomas fell for the charade.
Nonetheless, she was grateful that Jameson had agreed to play along and was hopeful that he would indeed help with the investigation into Greyback, even if he didn't seem to be pleased by her appearance.
Amelia frowned at the thought and shook her head.
He didn't have to be pleased, so long as he did help them.
(Break)
Harry scowled at Amelia's retreating form and shook his head in frustration. He'd not expected her to return so soon, and certainly not so brazenly, not when Thomas was here.
"Are you alright, sir?"
Harry nodded.
"I could do without the Aurors sniffing around," he huffed, "but it is easier to cooperate with something so simple rather than give them a reason to pay any more attention to us than necessary."
"I agree, sir," Thomas replied. "You wouldn't want people thinking you were, well, you know, on great terms with them."
"I would not," Harry agreed. "I'll take her the list, and then I have a few things to look into. We can catch up this evening when we close if you have a moment."
"Of course, sir," Thomas replied with an easy smile, any concern he felt by Bones' presence being assuaged.
"Good, and thank you for all of your help with this place. I wouldn't have been able to do it without you."
"It's my pleasure," Thomas said sincerely. "This is much nicer than my place, and you pay me more gold than I was making."
Harry hummed thoughtfully.
"Maybe we should discuss your wages. You seem too happy for my liking."
Thomas grinned in response, and Harry chuckled.
"Send a message if you need me before tonight."
Thomas offered Harry a salute, and he activated his portkey to return home, where he donned his cloak before vanishing once more.
Appearing a short distance from the entrance to the Ministry of Magic, he made his way into the building ad made his way through the swathes of people going about their business.
Bypassing the guard working the security desk, he took the golden lift up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and found himself in the Auror office only a moment later.
Amelia Bones wasn't difficult to spot.
Her deep red hair in the sea of browns and blondes stood out easily enough, and Harry took no small amount of joy in sneaking up on her.
Stashing his cloak in his bag, he leaned closely over her shoulder and caught the faint scent of honey as something pressed into his chest.
Looking down, he saw it was the tip of a wand.
"You'll have to do better than that to catch me off guard, Jameson."
"Is that a challenge, Auror Bones? I do like a challenge."
The woman sighed as she shook her head and removed her wand.
"Why am I already regretting asking for your help?"
"Because you have no idea how to have fun."
Amelia scowled at him.
"Well, what I need you for is not going to be much fun. Last night, Greyback and his pack tore through an entire village," she explained. "We found where they waited to transform, and from there, they took portkeys. I need you to see if you can trace where it took them."
Harry nodded.
"I can give it a go," he agreed, not expecting such news this morning. "Lead the way."
Without warning, Amelia took him by the arm, and the two of them vanished from the Ministry of Magic.
When Harry managed to open his eyes, he was surrounded by trees in a clearing where he could sense a myriad of magicks at play.
"You know, I'd usually expect dinner before such an intimate experience," he sighed wistfully. "Is that too much to ask?"
Amelia rolled her eyes at him.
"Can you help us or not?" she asked.
"Why do I feel so used?" Harry grumbled. "You make me think you only want me for my skills."
"Jameson!" Amelia groaned.
Harry smirked at the woman as he drew his wand and held up a hand.
"I have other talents, you know. I'm not just a piece of meat for you to use. I have feelings."
The woman's nostrils flared, and Harry realised he was beginning to push his luck. With a final grin, he set to work identifying the magic.
He was relieved that the portkeys were not created by Voldemort. Harry would know the feel of that magic anywhere. What he did find, however, was that the magic was not familiar to him at all, though he could sense a faint trace.
Whether it would be enough to follow remained to be seen, but he would do his utmost.
Having Greyback on the loose was not desirable, after all.
"What do you think?" Amelia asked curiously.
Harry finished his analysis before releasing a deep breath.
"Greyback was here," he confirmed. "He had around fifty other werewolves, half of his pack with him. I expect you'll receive a report of another attack soon enough. They used six portkeys between them here."
"Where did it take them?"
Harry frowned at the question and laughed humourlessly.
"Scotland."
"Scotland is a big area," Amelia pointed out.
"It is," Harry agreed, "but there's only one place where so many werewolves can hide and go unnoticed. I'd best send a warning to Dumbledore."
"You think they're at Hogwarts?" Amelia choked.
Harry shook his head.
"Not Hogwarts but the Forbidden Forest. Only a fool would go in there after them."
"Merlin," Amelia whispered as the realisation of what they faced dawned on her. "What can we do?"
Harry shrugged.
"That depends on how quickly you want to be killed. You went to Hogwarts. You know what is in there."
"What's rumoured to be in there," Amelia returned. "People like to exaggerate."
Harry shook his head.
"You can't go into the forest with that attitude. It will get you killed."
"You speak as though you've been there."
"No, but I have been to places that were much worse than even the most unpleasant tales told of them. In my experience, the reality is much more harrowing than any story. Those who tell the stories are those who live. It is the stories of the dead we never hear we should heed."
"How do dead people have stories to tell?"
"A story which was cut short by their demise," Harry replied. "Just because dead men tell no tales, that doesn't mean those tales do not exist. Remember that; it might just save your life one day."
Amelia frowned before nodding.
"So, what next?"
"What is next is that I will discuss the matter with Dumbledore. We will decide what we will do from there."
"What you will do?" Amelia asked pointedly.
Harry nodded.
"I suppose it is partly my responsibility now," he sighed. "As of this morning, I'm the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor."
"You're going to teach at Hogwarts?" Amelia gasped. "What about the restaurant?"
"Thomas can manage it just fine," Harry said dismissively. "Dumbledore offered me the job, and I accepted. Well, for this year, at least. I suppose my first task will be to remove the werewolves from the forest."
"On your own?"
"I expect Dumbledore will help."
Amelia could only shake her head, evidently digesting what she'd learned.
"The Aurors should help."
"They should," Harry agreed, "but how many of them do you think will volunteer for it?"
"I will, and I know Alastor will," Amelia declared. "I need to speak with my superiors about this. You speak with Dumbledore, and I will speak with Head Auror Grimm. Don't do anything until we have met. I will come to the restaurant when you're closed."
"No, you need to stop coming there so much," Harry denied. "We need to find somewhere else to meet."
"Any suggestions?"
Harry shook his head.
"I'll send a message to you."
"How?"
"You'll see," Harry assured her with a grin, vanishing from the wooded area to return home.
It was a most unwelcome development that he now had to contend with, but having Greyback in the Forbidden Forest was not something he could allow.
In only a matter of a few weeks, the students would return to the castle, and having a rampaging pack of werewolves on the grounds was the last thing Hogwarts needed.
(Break)
"What was your impression of Mr Jameson, Minerva?" Albus asked curiously.
The staff that remained in the castle for the holidays had gathered in the Great Hall for their evening meal. In all, there were only four of them; Albus, Minerva, Hagrid, and Filius Flitwick, the Charms professor.
"Do you not think him to be a little young?" Minerva questioned.
"He is only a little younger than you when you took up your post," Albus pointed out. "I can assure you; he is most qualified. To assuage my own concerns, I assessed him myself. I can safely say I have seldom met one so young who is as talented as him. He would impress you, Minerva, and you, Filius."
"What did you have him do?" Minerva queried.
"I questioned him mostly and found his knowledge to be exceptional," Albus explained. "We then discussed the syllabus, and I had him perform the most difficult of spells he'll be expected to teach and some far beyond a standard education. He did not falter once."
"Where was he educated?" Filius broke in.
"Privately," Albus informed the small group. "He told me he was orphaned at a very young age and that he was raised by an aunt and uncle. They moved around a lot, and Harry learned along the way. I suspect his parents and perhaps the other relatives he mentioned were exceptional witches and wizards. For him to know what he does, he has been extensively trained. Did any of you hear what happened in Knockturn Alley the night the Selwyn group was arrested?"
Evidently, none had, and Albus placed his fork on the table.
"I have it on good authority that Mr Jameson apprehended the group, along with many others, on his own. He did so quickly and wished to remain anonymous. His identity was uncovered when he opened his restaurant and was recognised by the very Auror he saved that night."
"He did it alone?" Filius asked, impressed.
"Indeed," Albus confirmed. "It would take a wizard of exceptional skill to do so, especially without being injured himself. Our students will learn much from him."
He was confident he'd made the right appointment and was eager to see the impact Professor Jameson would have on the students throughout the upcoming school year.
"Well, Filius, it seems as though you will be meeting him sooner than intended," Albus declared.
"I will?"
Albus nodded.
"He just entered the school grounds."
The headmaster was curious as to why Harry was here. Unless he was having second thoughts, which he hoped was not the case, he couldn't imagine what would prompt the visit.
It was only a few moments later that the young man entered the hall, his expression lacking the warmth and joviality that had been present earlier in the day.
It was the first glimpse Albus had seen of Jameson's intensity, and he could quite believe the man walking purposely towards him was certainly capable of handling himself as he'd heard from Alastor.
"Headmaster, you have my apologies for the intrusion," Harry offered, "but something has been brought to my attention that should be made aware of."
"That sounds ominous," Albus replied worriedly.
"It is," Harry murmured, "and equally troubling."
"Well, anything you need to tell me can be shared with our colleagues. I can assure you; they are all trustworthy."
Harry's gaze swept across them speculatively, and he nodded.
"I won't insult your intelligence by pretending you're not already partially aware of what I'm about to tell you," he sighed. "This is about Greyback."
"Greyback?" Minerva interjected. "Fenrir Greyback?"
"The very same," Harry said darkly.
"What of him?" Minerva pressed.
"He is in Britain," Harry revealed. "The news hasn't broken yet, but his pack wiped out an entire village last night in the west country."
"Merlin," Minerva gasped.
"That is most unwelcome news," Albus said sadly.
"But not the end of it," Harry huffed. "The portkey they used shortly after sunrise brought them to Scotland, only a short journey away from the Forbidden Forest."
Albus stood at the revelation.
"They are in the forest?"
Harry nodded.
"They are, and that is far too close for comfort."
"Indeed," Albus agreed, pondering how to tackle the situation.
Werewolves were difficult to deal with, and as large a pack as the one commanded by Greyback was deeply problematic.
"What are we going to do, Albus?" Minerva asked, an unusual expression of concern marring her features.
"They cannot remain," Albus mused aloud.
"Those are my thoughts exactly," Harry broke in. "It must be handled carefully. I have a few ideas if you would be willing to listen."
"You wish to tackle Greyback and his pack?" Filius questioned.
"I'd be a rather poor Defence Against the Dark Arts professor if I shied away," Harry chuckled.
"Do you have experience with werewolves?"
"More than I'd like," Harry answered cryptically. "Give me three days to track them down, and I will know what to do. Mr Hagrid, I imagine you know the forest better than any. If you have some insight into places to look and equally avoid, your input would be most valuable."
"I can do that," Hagrid agreed, surprised he was being included.
"Thank you," Harry said gratefully.
"You surely do not intend to do this alone," Minerva interjected disbelievingly.
"No, I will take one person with me," Harry revealed. "Any more than that until we know exactly what we are facing, we risk being discovered. This will require the utmost care."
"Who do you intend on taking with you?" Albus asked curiously.
"An Auror," Harry informed him. "I would not bring someone I did not believe was capable. I will, of course, keep you informed of my progress as and when I can."
Albus was taken aback by his willingness to undertake such a risky task.
Perhaps he felt the need to prove himself, or maybe it was that he saw it as part of his duty.
Regardless, Albus felt that Harry Jameson knew exactly what he was doing.
How the man knew was a mystery to him, though one he hoped would be revealed in time.
(Break)
The meeting with Grimm and Jones had gone as well as Amelia had expected. Both men were furious and demanding that they double their efforts to track down Greyback and his pack and had instructed her and Moody to do so by any means necessary.
Having explained involving Jameson, without naming him, they had agreed that he could once more assist them, even if they didn't have much of a choice in the matter.
Jameson was not answerable to them, and in truth, Amelia didn't know whom it was he did answer to.
Nonetheless, without him, she was unsure if she would have been able to trace the whereabouts of the location the portkey that had taken the werewolves.
If Moody couldn't do it, Amelia knew her own chances of success were low.
She was still working on the intricacies of such magic and would focus on it more from now on.
Maybe she would ask Jameson for some pointers if he was allowed to show her.
Amelia frowned as she looked towards the clock.
Almost six hours had passed since Jameson had left the clearing in the woods, and she wondered what was taking him so long.
As though she had willed his presence into existence, she screamed as a brilliant light filled her office, and she found herself staring into the eyes of an enormous, ethereal stag.
"The Hog's Head, room eight. Be discreet," it spoke in Jameson's voice.
Amelia could only stare at the spot where the stag had stood for some time after it had vanished.
It had been a Patronus, of that, Amelia had no doubt, but she'd never heard of being able to use one to send messages in such a way.
Shaking her head in disbelief, she took the necessary measures so that she would not be recognised and took her leave of the Ministry.
Arriving in Hogsmeade, she quickly made her way to the pub she usually avoided here, and when she entered, she found it busy enough that she could slip through without garnering any attention.
"Room eight," she murmured, tapping lightly on the door when she reached it.
When it opened, she was pulled in, and a plethora of charms were cast.
"You weren't followed?" Jameson asked.
"No, I came straight here," Amelia assured him.
"Good," Jameson murmured. "Well, I've spoken to Dumbledore and he's on board with my plan."
"Your plan?"
Jameson nodded, a slight grin tugging at his lips.
"How would you like to help me with some fieldwork?"
"Fieldwork?"
"Well, forest work," Jameson corrected. "We need to track the pack down before we can do anything else. What happens after depends on what we find. If the opportunity to take Greyback presents itself, we will take it. If not, we will have the information we need before proceeding."
Amelia nodded.
"Who else is helping?"
"It will be just you and me," Jameson answered. "We can't take a large party. I would bet my life Greyback has scouts in the forest, and we can't be discovered. You can say no, but your help would be appreciated."
"Merlin," Amelia whispered. "You're not joking, are you?"
Jameson shook his head.
"I'm afraid not," he said, and Amelia got the impression he was enjoying this more than any had the right to.
"How dangerous is this going to be?" she asked.
"Oh, I doubt you'll do much else as dangerous as this," Jameson said dismissively. "The werewolves are one thing, but we must contend with everything else in the forest. I've been assured that we will not be welcomed by most of the creatures in there."
Jameson seemed to be excited by the task, and Amelia wondered if he'd taken leave of his senses or if he had perhaps escaped the Janice Thickey Ward in St Mungo's.
"Alright, I'll do it," she agreed, unable to turn down the opportunity and look weak in front of him. "When do we leave?"
"That's the spirit," Jameson declared. "You have two hours to gather your things and inform who you need to. We will meet at Hagrid's Hut. He is expecting us."
With that, he vanished, and Amelia felt a sense of dread fill her.
Perhaps she should've declined the invitation, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her.
She hoped she would not live to regret her decision to go along with him, though the alternative was certainly worse.
As she tried to find a way to explain to Edgar that she would be away for some time and to Grimm what she would be doing, Amelia could only shake her head in disbelief.
This was going to be quite the adventure, and she could not help but think this was one of those things that she would never forget.