Being fearful was not something he was accustomed to. Fenrir prided himself on his ability to instil it within others, but he'd never been on the receiving end of it, not until he'd made the acquaintance of Lord Voldemort.
He would not deny the man was a brilliant wizard, undoubtedly the most powerful Fenrir had ever met, and he could do things that the werewolf had never seen before.
Begrudgingly, he admitted he was terrified of Voldemort, but more than that, he respected him as a fellow alpha.
He could give no higher praise to the budding Dark Lord, and Fenrir anticipated some very interesting years ahead, even if he was put-out that he would have to curb the violence of his pack whilst they were here.
In a way, he was glad that they would simply be able to live in the safety of the Forbidden Forest.
Their victims were to be delivered to them shortly before the full moon every month so they would not starve when they were at their hungriest.
Nonetheless, the urge to hunt would not be easy to ignore, but Fenrir would keep his own in line, so long as Voldemort made good on his promise by allowing them to hunt when he eventually returned to Britain.
What he was doing on the continent was a mystery, and Fenrir had gotten the impression it was best that he didn't ask.
As yet, he did not trust Voldemort, and it was clear the man didn't trust him.
He'd promised the pack would be supervised closely, and if they indulged in such violence again without his permission, they would be slaughtered.
Fenrir did not take kindly to threats, but he did not doubt for a moment that Voldemort meant it.
After what he'd endured at the man's hands, he could not bring himself to push the boundaries set out for him and his whilst they resided in Britain.
Still, he knew his lot in life could be worse.
His pack had never had a permanent home, and now, they could build a community and houses they could reside in without fear of persecution.
Fenrir bared his teeth at the thought of how many times he'd been forced to leave cities across the continent when what he was had been discovered.
Werewolves were universally despised, and knowing he would never be allowed to live in relative peace whilst he embraced what he was, he'd decided to form his pack.
Over the years, it had grown exponentially.
Some of those he'd welcomed had been sick with other debilitating diseases and had chosen Lycanthropy over a long and painful death.
Others had merely been turned and disowned from their families, and some he'd had turned to swell their numbers so that they could be safer.
In a matter of only a decade, he'd created the largest pack perhaps in the world, and they looked to him to lead them.
Even so, they'd eventually been driven out of anywhere they'd tried to make a home, and they'd had nothing to lose by coming to Britain. Yaxley. Rosier and Lestrange had assured him the forest here was not frequented by humans, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, Fenrir was hopeful of a real home for his people.
It wasn't until he'd informed them of the move that he'd made the acquaintance of Lord Voldemort, and now, Fenrir found himself at the behest of a human, though one who had earned his respect.
Despite the painful encounter with the man, he was pleased with his decision, and as he entered the dwelling they were creating, he nodded satisfactorily.
In his absence, the pack had been busy, and the trolls and Acromantula he had struck a bargain with were proving to be useful allies.
Already, a few dozen houses had been erected, and in only a few more weeks, every one of his people would have a roof over their heads.
Fenrir nodded to himself.
The trolls had been easy enough to bring into the fold.
Simply providing them with some vegetables had been enough to sway them, but the Acromantula had been a little more difficult.
What they could possibly need protecting from was beyond Fenrir. They numbered in their hundreds, and he could think of nothing that would pose a threat to such a large gathering of enormous spiders.
He'd readily agreed and they'd provided their webs willingly and were ably assisting with supplying building materials.
They were proving to be an excellent resource.
Werewolves were strong but grew weaker as the full moon approached, particularly those that were not magical. Less than a fifth of the pack carried wands, and even they suffered in the days leading up to their transformations.
With the assistance of the trolls and Acromantula, the building work would not slow as much as it would without them.
"Good work," he murmured, praising one of the men who was assembling a frame.
He received a smile of gratitude in response.
"Anything to report?" he barked at another, one of the females that had been with him from the very beginning of forming the pack.
She bared her yellow teeth at him.
"Progress is good," she declared. "We have not been bothered by anything here."
Fenrir nodded.
Only something foolish would attempt to do so.
There was no creature or even group of creatures within the forest that would confront them in the hope of moving the pack on. It would mean their death.
It brought a smile to Fenrir's lips.
Home.
This would become their home.
(Break)
Amelia remained clueless as to what plan Jameson had formulated. After they'd discovered the werewolves, he'd sat and stared into the fire for close to an hour before standing suddenly and snuffing it.
Jameson had only instructed her to follow him, and Amelia had done so.
For the better part of two days, they'd been trekking through the forest once more, evidently in search of something.
What that was, Amelia didn't know, but Jameson seemed torn on the matter, almost as though his hand had been forced.
What they faced was not what was expected, and it seemed that Harry was thinking on his feet.
Amelia watched as he stopped suddenly and went about setting a camp, an odd occurrence as the sun had yet to set.
"We are almost there," he explained. "I want you to wait here. This could be dangerous in more ways than one, and it is better if you remain ignorant of certain things."
Amelia frowned unhappily.
"It's not that I don't think you capable," Jameson assured her. "It is that I have my secrets that I wish to remain that way."
It was seldom that he spoke with such severity, and Amelia reluctantly nodded.
"What if you don't come back?" she asked.
"Would you really miss me?" Jameson asked with a smirk. "You're so sweet."
Amelia narrowed her eyes at him.
"You know what I mean."
Jameson nodded.
"Well, if you see a hell of a commotion, it's best that you get the hell out of here. That will mean it's gone tits-up, and the shit has hit the cauldron."
"You're not exactly filling me with confidence," Amelia grumbled.
"Well, I'm not feeling particularly confident myself," Jameson admitted, "but there's no point in both of us possibly dying if it comes to that. I don't think it will, but I'd rather not risk it. Besides, I might well end up burning the entire forest down if necessary to escape."
"You wouldn't!"
"Oh, I would," Jameson snorted. "Just wait here. I'm not expecting to be long, and if I am, I will get a message to you."
"Fine," Amelia sighed, not liking being left out of whatever scheme the man was plotting.
Jameson offered her a nod of gratitude before vanishing into the shadows, and Amelia was left to wait for him to either return or receive a message.
It was not what she wanted, but she got the impression that Jameson had meant every word he'd said.
If he did indeed burn the entire forest down, she did not want to be a part of it.
Only a lengthy spell in Azkaban could follow such destruction, after all.
(Break)
It had been a rather tense wait for the headmaster since Harry Jameson had ventured into the forest. It had been five days without word, and Albus could not deny that he was growing more concerned with each one that passed.
He had expected it to be a few days before there was news, but almost a week, he'd not been prepared for.
As he prodded some potatoes around his plate, he wondered if his newest edition to the staff here was faring well.
Albus hoped he was and had not fallen victim to any of the unpleasant things that lurked in the Forbidden Forest other than the werewolves.
He looked towards Hagrid questioningly, and the large man shrugged, his own expression mirroring Albus's.
It had been Hagrid who'd provided as detailed a map as he could, along with anything he could tell Harry Jameson about what to expect in the forest.
Now, the rest was in the hands of the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.
Albus only wished he'd insisted on going along with the man, but before he could ponder that maudlin thought too deeply, he was startled by the arrival of an ethereal stag.
It was a magnificent patronus, as strong as any Albus had produced himself.
What took him and the rest of the staff sharing a meal aback, however, was when it began to speak in Harry Jameson's voice.
"There has been a rather unpleasant development. We have located the werewolves, but they are not alone. They have somehow convinced the trolls and Acromantula to help them. I am working on a plan to remedy this and will inform you of further developments."
For a moment, the stag pawed at the ground, the hooves scraping audibly across the stone.
When it dissipated, Albus could only shake his head as he looked towards Filius.
"I've never seen a Patronus like it," the diminutive man whispered, impressed by the spell. "How did he make it speak?"
Albus didn't know, though he had a theory or two of how such a thing was possible. He would explore them in his leisure time.
What was important was that he'd received an update, and though the news was not as welcome as he'd hoped, it was better than the silence that had hung over them.
"Aragog. No, he would never…" Hagrid whispered sadly. "I need to go to him."
"Do you think it wise, Hagrid?" Albus asked gently. "If he has aligned with the werewolves, it is unlikely that he will be swayed by you."
"I have to try," Hagrid replied, taking his leave of the Great Hall.
Albus released a deep sigh.
The Acromantula had been the cause of Hagrid's expulsion.
Albus knew the population had been steadily growing since the gamekeeper had allowed the spiders to live in the forest. He did not wish for Hagrid to be upset, but it would not do for them to continue to breed so freely.
Perhaps he would raise it with his friend when the opportunity presented itself.
For now, he found that he would be playing the waiting game once more and hoped to hear from Professor Jameson sooner rather than later.
(Break)
This was not how Harry had envisioned dealing with the werewolves playing out. He'd expected to locate the pack, capture or kill Greyback, and send the rest on their way without much deviation from his intention.
The trolls and Acromantula, however, had forced him to adapt and overcome two new problems.
It would be risky to tackle them alone, and having pondered how to do so, he'd reluctantly decided upon a course of action.
He only hoped he would not come to regret it.
Having left Bones at the campsite, he ventured further into the forest on the hunt for the help they needed.
Where he would find it, he wasn't sure, but he'd removed his cloak and ensured he could be found; a risky move but a necessary one given the unexpected and unpleasant development.
Shaking his head, he continued on his way through the forest, pausing some time later as he entered a familiar clearing.
Although he wasn't here now, and there was a lack of uprooted trees, this was where Hagrid had left Grawp.
Harry's memories were not fond ones of the giant.
Grawp never seemed to like him or Ron, not the way he did Hermione.
Nonetheless, this was undoubtedly the place, and with that in mind and no other plan, he flicked his wand into his hand and began casting some subtle spells.
It was only a few moments later that he heard the distant sound he'd been anticipating, and in a matter of seconds, Harry found himself being encircled by a group of irritable centaurs with their bows drawn.
"The forest is a dangerous place for humans, especially now," the largest of them, a muscular palomino, warned.
The others murmured their agreement, eyeing Harry with suspicion.
"And you do not belong here," the palomino continued, his gaze shifting towards the starry sky above. "Mars grows brighter. Do you know what that means?"
"War is coming," Harry answered quietly.
"Yes," the centaur agreed, staring at him curiously. "You know of war, Harry Potter, and what is to come."
"How do you know who I am?"
"The stars tell us all we need to know. They decided we should know your true name and not the veil you hide beneath. Mars grows brighter, Harry Potter."
"You've already said that."
The entire group stared towards the stars once more, and Harry fought the urge to curse under his breath.
He'd forgotten how easily distracted the centaurs could be by the night sky.
"It's perilous to be here," the palomino eventually spoke. "You cannot fathom what is within the trees."
"The werewolves," Harry replied.
"Among many other things," the centaur said ominously. "You know of the threat."
"Are they a threat to your herd?"
The centaur nodded.
"We fend off the spiders and even the trolls. Perhaps we could fend off the werewolves, but not all together. We have spent these past days in our own lands. We felt your magic and thought you were the headmaster. We were to inform him."
"I am here on Dumbledore's behalf," Harry explained. "I am the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."
The centaurs murmured amongst themselves for a moment before the palomino addressed him once more.
"My name is Morrigan. I am the head of the centaur herd."
"Well, Morrigan, I am pleased to meet you, Harry offered with a respectful bow. "I am here to rid you of the werewolves."
"Yes, you are," Morrigan replied. "Tell me, Harry Potter, why do you not belong here?"
"Have the stars not told you?"
"They have not," Morrigan grumbled. "They speak of you as a man who does not belong but perhaps will. Your fate is tied to Mars and has been since birth. It burns brighter now, but not as bright as you have seen it. It will grow brighter, and maybe it will be you to dim it."
Harry shook his head.
"Not this time," he denied. "I will assist you with your threat, as is my duty as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Will you help me?"
Morrigan looked towards his companions, and then towards a foal amongst them that Harry hadn't noticed.
"It would do us no good to involve ourselves. We will protect our lands, but we cannot protect the entire forest from them, Harry Potter. They will come for our young and our mares. Even with your help, it will not be enough. The spiders alone will be a match for us."
Harry nodded his understanding.
He would ask no father to leave their children to fight when there was a high probability they wouldn't return.
"Then I will do what I can," he murmured, turning to leave before an even wilder thought than convincing the centaurs to help entered his mind. "What if I could ensure the spiders would not fight?"
"Can you do that?" Morrigan asked curiously.
Harry nodded.
"I might be able to, but you will need to trust me."
The centaurs spoke quietly amongst themselves once more before Morrigan turned back towards Harry.
"Tell us of your plan, Harry Potter."
(Break)
Somehow, the forest felt less welcoming than it usually did, and it had never been so in the first place. Something was wrong, something unsettling, and Rubeus clutched his crossbow tightly to his chest as he followed the familiar path he had taken dozens of times over the years.
He remembered the very night he'd brought Aragog here, the very same he'd been expelled for something he'd not done.
Riddle.
Rubeus would never forget how quickly Tom Riddle had pointed the finger at him and Aragog for the death of Myrtle Warren.
His faithful pet wouldn't have hurt anyone, and Rubeus wouldn't either.
Despite his parentage, he'd inherited his father's kindly nature and not the bloodthirsty alternative that was his mother.
Rubeus missed his father.
The man had died shortly after he'd begun his fourth year at Hogwarts from Dragonpox, and he'd been alone since.
Well, not alone entirely.
Professor Dumbledore had been good to him, had looked out for him when he'd still been a boy, and had given him a job when he'd become headmaster.
Rubeus would forever be grateful to Dumbledore.
Tonight, however, thoughts of his childhood and what had gone wrong were far from his thoughts. His mind was occupied with the news he'd learned, and as he approached the lair that Aragog had spent years building with the wife Hagrid and provided him, he hoped it was not true that the Acromantula was helping the invading werewolves.
"Aragog, are ya there?" Rubeus called as he reached the hollow of the den. "Aragog?" he repeated when he received no response.
It was the sound of scuttling that did eventually greet him, and cautiously, he entered, finding himself in the large cavern after a short walk through a sloping tunnel.
"Hagrid?" a gravelly voice greeted him.
Aragog had grown bigger than Rubeus had ever anticipated.
Acromantula were large creatures, but as big as Aragog had ever been documented.
"I had to see ya," Hagrid rumbled. "Something bad is happening in the forest."
"Ah, it is so," Aragog acknowledged. "My own children, I fear, a part of it. Some of them who no longer respect our ways. Out of respect for you, we remain within the part of the forest we have claimed for ourselves. We venture further if food is scarce, but not as far as they have gone. I am afraid, friend, it is no longer in my control."
Rubeus nodded.
"I didn't think it would be you," he soothed. "Your children. Dumbledore knows about what they have done."
"Then they have sealed their own fate," Aragog returned matter-of-factly. "They aligned themselves with creatures darker than us, all in the hope of food they will not receive. We are slaves to none, and yet, they sell themselves so cheaply."
"Is there anything I can do?"
"Go home, friend Hagrid. I'm afraid they no longer listen to reason," Aragog urged. "If they were to find you, they would kill you. The sons that remain with me will see you out of the forest safely, as you saw me to safety when I was but a hatchling."
"Will you be alright?" Rubeus asked worriedly.
Aragog chuckled.
"They defy me, but they fear me still. They will not return knowing the punishment that awaits them. They are no longer my children but traitors. Leave now, friend Hagrid, and only return when it is safe. I would not see you harmed."
Rubeus nodded and scratched the enormous spider close to his eyes, just the way he'd liked it when he'd emerged from his egg.
"Be safe, Aragog. I'll be seeing you soon, and I'll bring your favourite food."
"Your kindness has never been forgotten, Hagrid," Aragog said fondly, climbing up into his web.
With a relieved smile, Hagrid left the hollow with dozens of Acromantula in his wake to see him back to his hut.
He was pleased to know that Aragog had not joined the werewolves, but he knew his oldest friend would be sad that his children had done so.
To most, Aragog was a monster, but to Rubeus, who had raised him, he was a gentle soul, a misunderstood creature that had shown him nothing but loyalty, even when others had turned their backs on him.
(Break)
Amelia was beginning to worry.
Checking her watch for the umpteenth time since Jameson had left, she realised it had been seventeen hours ago that he'd done so.
Whatever he was doing surely could not take this long.
Had he been captured by the werewolves or fallen victim to something else within the forest?
Amelia didn't know, but if he took much longer, she would have no choice but to cut her losses here.
Jameson hadn't specified how long he'd be, but she'd slept in his absence, had breakfast, and was just finishing her lunch.
It wasn't like her to worry whilst on the job, but now, she could not deny her own concern for herself and for the man who had left her here.
"Bugger," she muttered to herself, scanning the treeline for any sign of Jameson.
"It's nice to see you so concerned."
Amelia yelped as she all but jumped out of her skin and rounded on Jameson with her wand drawn.
"You stupid, bloody prat!" she hissed.
He merely grinned in response, and though he looked tired, he seemed to be in high spirits.
"Where have you been?"
"You weren't worried about me, were you, Auror Bones?"
"Not likely," Amelia growled. "Come on, out with it. Where have you been?"
"I wonder if my mother would have been as terrifying as you if I stepped out of line?" Jameson asked absentmindedly, scratching the scruff on his chin.
Amelia narrowed her eyes at him, and he held up a hand to placate her.
"I'm sorry that it took so long," he said sincerely. "I had to make an unexpected detour, but, I think we can make our move when we are ready."
"Are you going to tell me what you've done?"
Jameson nodded.
"I've employed the help of the centaurs."
"The centaurs?" Amelia asked, surprised he'd managed to do so. "How did you manage that?"
The creatures were not known for their friendliness towards humans and certainly not for their cooperation.
"Mars is bright," Jameson answered.
Amelia huffed irritably.
"What does that mean?"
Jameson shrugged.
"I'm not entirely sure, but they mentioned it enough times and it was that, and some assurances from me, that convinced them. I just need to send a signal when we are ready and they will get the party started."
"Get the party started?" Amelia scoffed. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say you have a death wish."
Jameson frowned.
"That's not the first time I've heard that," he mused aloud. "Besides, the centaurs aren't so bad when you know how to speak with them. They will help us, and we should be good."
Amelia was not convinced, but Jameson was confident, and for someone who had undoubtedly been in countless life-threatening situations, she knew she needed to put her faith in him, even if it was not easy.
"So, what's the plan?"
He frowned thoughtfully for a moment.
"If we can get the trolls and the Acromantula to disperse, that would be for the best," he murmured. "We then need to eliminate Greyback as a threat either by killing him or subduing him. That will be your task."
"Me?" Amelia gasped. "You want me to do it?"
Jameson nodded soberly.
"It's going to get messy in there, and I need to mitigate the collateral damage as best I can. Come on, Bones, I know you can handle him. I have every confidence in you."
Amelia was taken aback by the monumental task she'd been set, but she would not shy away from it.
"Okay," she agreed. "I'll handle Greyback."
"That's my girl," Jameson beamed. "You'll be fine."
"I'm not sure if you're patronising me or…"
Jameson cut her off with a shake of his head.
"I'm not patronising you," he said sincerely. "I'm relying on you to get this done. It will take both of us."
Amelia hummed.
"Well, then I will give it my all."
"And take all the credit," Jameson insisted. "I do not want my involvement mentioned or known in any way."
"Why not?" Amelia asked. "This would make you famous across most of the wizarding world."
Jameson shuddered and shook his head frantically.
"Absolutely not," he said firmly. "This will be all yours, Auror Bones."
Maybe it was the nature of the job he'd done, but he truly seemed against the idea of taking any credit for what they were about to do, should everything go according to plan, of course.
He was an odd man in some regards, but Amelia wouldn't question it.
Although he was open about some things, others he kept very close to his chest.
It made her more curious than ever about the man, but for now, she would not press the matter.
The task ahead required their full attention, and Amelia could not be distracted by wandering thoughts.
"So, when do we leave?"
"Right now," Jameson declared. "If we are to reach them by nightfall, that is."
Amelia nodded her understanding and packed her things away whilst Jameson undid the charms.
"Ready," she informed him.
"Then let's not waste any time," Jameson said severely, his expression shifting to one of the utmost focus.
Once again, they began trekking through the forest, neither speaking nor leaving any sign of their presence as they followed the same route they'd taken the previous day towards where the werewolves had installed themselves.
It was an eerie tension that filled Amelia.
She'd been on raids, on stakeouts, and even in her fair share of firefights, but she'd never come up against such an eclectic group of creatures headed by one of the most notorious and violent criminals in the wizarding world.
Her gaze shifted towards where Harry Jameson was walking just ahead of her.
If he was nervous, he did not show it, and Amelia detected no discomfort in his magic, which in itself was like nothing she'd experienced before.
She'd been paying close attention to it whenever he cast a spell. His magic was not warm nor welcoming. If anything, it was rather cold and foreboding in nature.
What that meant, she didn't know, but it was as though it was attuned to dark magic, that it had taken on something darker than was natural for any human to wield.
Amelia gasped as Jameson suddenly took her arm and spoke to her in a whisper.
"They're just up ahead," he informed her. "I'll send the signal to the centaurs, and you take Greyback when the opportunity presents itself."
"How will I know when that is?" Amelia asked.
She could almost feel his grin, and the tension within her grew stronger.
"Oh, you'll know, Auror Bones," Jameson assured her, that grin evidently widening as he spoke.
Whatever he was planning, Amelia had no doubt that it went against everything in the rulebook she abided by each time she put her Auror robes on, but as he'd pointed out, this wasn't a Ministry of Magic operation.
Harry Jameson was in control, and Amelia found it to be as terrifying as it was exciting.
Both increased as they neared the werewolves and only more so when she could hear their voices in the distance.
One in particular stood out, a gruff, authoritative voice that was barking instructions, and then Amelia spotted him near one of the few large fires that was burning.
She'd only ever seen him in photos that would occasionally surface in the office, but there was no mistaking the hulking man that was Fenrir Greyback.
Very few had seen him in person, and those who did and lived to speak of it were fortunate to do so.
Greyback was not known for taking prisoners.
To him, they were just another mouth to feed, an inconvenience at best and an absolute hindrance at worst. Regardless, those who found themselves at his mercy were not long for the world, and Amelia hoped she would not become just another victim of the monster who had plagued the continent for so many years.
The very thought sent a shiver down her spine, but as she always did when confronted with such adversity, she took a deep breath, knowing she would tackle it head-on.
All she needed to do was wait for the opportune moment, and it appeared that would come sooner than she'd expected.
It started off as a distant, rhythmic thudding, and it grew louder with each passing second.
The werewolves noticed it too, and as the ground began to tremble beneath her feet, Amelia looked on as they were ushered into positions behind the Acromantula and mountain trolls, who readied themselves to face the approaching threat.
She hoped Jameson knew what he was doing.
The assembled forces of the creatures before them were formidable.
Nonetheless, the thudding of hooves continued, yet, the centaurs did not appear, and it was a sudden, ear-piercing screeching that filled the air that caught the attention of the werewolves.
Amelia, too, wondered what could have caused such a blood-curdling sound, and her eyes widened as an enormous mass burst through the trees.
The screeching continued, but it wasn't from the creature that arrived unexpectedly but from the Acromantula, all of whom began fleeing into trees from abject fear.
"IT'S A BASILISK. COVER YOUR EYES!"
"A basilisk?" Amelia choked.
She'd heard of the feared serpents.
Merely meeting the gaze of one of them was fatal, and the venom was amongst the most potent known to men.
What one was doing here, she didn't know, and even more confusing was the sight of Harry Jameson riding it as though it was a tame horse.
Before Amelia could ponder the unbelievable feat, the centaurs galloped into the clearing, some with swords drawn and others with arrows aimed towards the trolls and panicking werewolves.
Several of the former collapsed lifelessly to the ground from their foolish eyes fixing on the basilisk's and more followed as it lashed out with its tail.
The werewolves were helpless as they were herded into a large group by the centaurs, and those that attempted to resist were felled quickly.
Amelia was pulled from her observations by a guttural roar as one of the werewolves lunged forward with his wand in hand.
Greyback.
In a matter of seconds, he killed two of the centaurs with a pair of curses she did not recognise, but she sprang into action whilst the rest of the chaos ensued around her.
Much to her relief, the werewolves seemed to be frozen in place, not knowing what to do whilst the trolls tried to fight back against the basilisk, to no avail.
Their greater numbers were the only advantage they possessed, but lacking the intelligence to combat such a creature meant they were doomed for failure.
Still, they kept Jameson busy enough that he could not focus on anything else, and Amelia struck as Greyback drew his wand backwards, readying another curse.
He screamed in a mixture of agony and anger as the severing curse tore through his fingers, removing them from the hand and cleaving his wand in two.
Greyback had moved at the last second, and his wounds proved to be minor enough for him to charge towards her, disarmed but scarcely less dangerous.
Where many would freeze at being confronted by a rampaging murderer, Amelia retained her composure, her next spell sending the werewolf careening into a nearby tree.
Before Greyback could right himself, he was bound in thick, black chains, which he struggled against, though his efforts were in vain.
"HELP ME!" he demanded of his pack.
They didn't move, and as the last of the trolls fell, they found themselves under the scrutiny of what was likely the biggest snake in the country.
Amelia didn't know where Jameson had found it, or how he was controlling it, but once again, he'd managed to surprise her beyond any expectations she could've had.
He continued to intrigue her, to be an enigmatic puzzle Amelia felt no closer to solving. When she felt that she was making progress, he did something so out of the ordinary that it pushed her straight back to the very beginning.
It was frustrating, and yet, she couldn't stop herself from pushing back to learn more about him.
"Alright, so long as none of you try anything, no one else needs to be hurt," Jameson called to the werewolves. "You have my word that I do not mean any of you any harm."
The werewolves murmured amongst themselves, but with little choice, they offered no further resistance and waited for Jameson, who turned his attention to a large centaur.
The two shared a brief conversation and even shook hands before the centaurs retreated, though only to the treeline where they could observe what was to follow.
With Greyback secured, Amelia approached, giving the coiled-up basilisk a wide berth, still in a state of utter disbelief at having seen one of the creatures in person.
She remembered her training on dark creatures vividly.
They'd covered the likes of the dementors, werewolves, vampires, and even basilisks, and what Moody had said to her pertaining to such had stuck with her.
'Aye, you might come across a werewolf or two, and you'll get to know the dementors well enough. We don't get much else in Britain since the vampires were ousted, and most creatures of higher classifications aren't native. It's highly illegal to own them. You've got more of a chance of shitting galleons than seeing anything you need to worry about when it comes to beasts.'
Evidently, he'd been quite wrong, and the shock of what Amelia had witnessed set in just as she reached Jameson.
She was simply lost for words and all he could do was grin at her in the same irritating way he always did.
"A basilisk?" she whispered harshly. "Where the hell did you find that?"
Jameson shrugged; his smile unwavering.
"Around," he answered coyly.
Amelia didn't believe him for one moment, but it seemed he was not going to elaborate on how he'd found it or how he managed to get it to cooperate with him.
"I…I just don't know what to say," she huffed irritably.
"Then don't say anything," Jameson urged. "You got Greyback."
Amelia looked towards the still-struggling werewolf and nodded.
"Your plan worked," she replied. "Even if it was completely insane."
"Sometimes you have to think outside of the box."
"Outside of the box?" Amelia snorted. "This is outside of an entirely different box. How do I even begin to explain what happened here?"
"You don't," Jameson answered simply. "You don't mention anything that happened, not the centaurs, not the basilisk, and certainly not me. I told you; I want to be kept out of it."
Amelia frowned at him.
"I don't think I can cover all of this up," she murmured. "What about them?"
She nodded towards the gathered werewolves, and Jameson waved her off dismissively.
"I will handle everything else. All you need to do is take Greyback in, but not until I've modified his memory. All anyone needs to know is that you arrested him."
Amelia was not convinced, but she did not want to go against his wishes, not when he'd done the entire country such a service.
"Besides," Jameson continued, his eyes all but sparkling in amusement. "Who would believe a word of any of this?"