Harry stood beside Ted in the Leaky Cauldron, the familiar scent of butterbeer doing little to ease the knot in his stomach as they waited for the rest of their guests to arrive.
"This is going to work, Harry," Ted said, more confident than he felt, glancing back at Professor Snape already seated at the table.
"It has to," Harry replied, jaw tight. "If we can't convince them… I don't know what else we can do."
They both fell silent, staring at the door as it creaked open and Madam Longbottom strode in, her back ramrod-straight, a no nonsense expression on her face.
"Mr. Potter," she said, giving Harry a curt nod. "It's good to see you again. I wish it were under better circumstances."
"Hello Madam Longbottom," Harry said, nodding in return. "Thank you for coming. Please have a seat." He gestured to the table behind him. "The others should be here soon."
"I'd prefer to ask you some questions first," Augusta Longbottom said pointedly. "What exactly is this business proposal of yours, and why do you and Mr. Tonks feel this is an appropriate time to bring something like this up when our focus should be on the war?"
"I'd be happy to tell you all about it," Ted cut in smoothly.
"With all due respect Mr. Tonks," Madam Longbottom interrupted, her tone sharp. "I'm here because of Harry Potter, and the debt my family owes him. So I will hear it from him."
"We think we have a way to end this madness," Harry replied. "To draw away some of the werewolves who support Greyback -- give them another option, a reason to stop fighting for him."
The door opened again as Lucius Malfoy stepped in, his expression cool and calculating. "Well, that was not what I was told," he drawled. "Mr. Tonks, you promised me a lucrative business opportunity, not charity."
"It's both," Ted replied. "Please have a seat Mr. Malfoy. We'll explain everything once everyone has arrived."
"What's he doing here?" Madam Longbottom demanded, her eyes narrowing as she pointed an angry finger at Malfoy. "He fought alongside Greyback in the last war, did you know that?" she rounded on Harry.
"Under duress," Lucius said, a smug smirk on his face. "I was under the Imperius curse at the time, as you well know."
"Is that so?" Madam Longbottom demanded, her face flushed with righteous fury. "As I remember it, Bagnold had more than enough evidence to lock you away in Azkaban for life. But the day you were to be arrested, the Auror department mysteriously received a donation large enough to fund their operations for the next five years."
"Coincidence," Lucius smiled.
Madam Longbottom's lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm leaving. Coming here was a mistake," she added, shooting Harry a withering glare for blindsiding her.
"Wait —" Harry started.
"No," Augusta cut in coldly, her gaze locked on Malfoy. "He will stab you in the back the first chance he gets."
"Mr. Potter… Harry," Augusta said, reminding herself of the debt her family owed the boy. "You don't know who the real Lucius Malfoy is."
"We don't have time for old grudges anymore," Ted interrupted. "Greyback is targeting Aurors — literally anyone capable of fighting back. The ones he doesn't kill outright, he turns, swelling his ranks, while reducing ours. In many respects, this is far worse than the last war."
"We'll survive," Augusta said stubbornly. "We always do."
"I have my doubts about that," a familiar voice cut in from behind her.
"Cornelius?" Augusta asked, turning around with a raised eyebrow, surprised to find the former Minister alongside Devlin Whitehorn stepping through the door.
"Harry and Ted are right," Cornelius said, pulling out a chair and sitting down heavily. "And after everything Harry's done, I think he deserves the right to be heard out."
Harry nodded to Cornelius gratefully before he began. "Everything Greyback has done has been to serve a larger purpose," he said. "The attack on the Ministry was to terrify the international wizarding community into enacting the quarantine, and isolating us from the rest of the world. The attack of Diagon Alley was a cover to rob Gringotts."
"And the attack on Hogsmeade?" Lucius interrupted smoothly. "What grand purpose did that serve?" He asked, deeply skeptical at the idea of the brutish thug he remembered from almost a decade ago managing all that.
"Wands, and a wand maker," Harry revealed. "Just like everything else — a cover for something more."
The room suddenly fell silent as everyone stared at Harry, eyes wide.
"Are you sure, about that Harry?" Cornelius asked. "Absolutely sure?" He shook his head before Harry could answer, looking like he'd aged ten years in that one moment. "No, of course you are."
"This is exactly why I called you all here," Harry continued. "The Ministry and the Wizengamot can't — or won't — do anything to stop them. Aside from Greyback none of them used wands. I thought… I thought that's just how they fought. They preferred physical attacks over magical. Our wands are our one advantage against them, and it won't be long before that's gone too."
"We have longer than you think," Lucius said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "They're untrained. Few if any of them have even attended Hogwarts, let alone graduated."
"No," Cornelius shook his head sharply. "They're turning witches and wizards in record numbers — ones who already know how to use wands. They'll teach the rest."
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Tonks," Augusta said gravely. "I think you'd better tell us about this proposal of yours."
"There's a potion — Wolfsbane," Ted explained. "Recently invented. It's supposed to help werewolves retain their minds when they transform. If we can distribute it among the werewolves population, it could be enough to break Greyback's hold over them."
Lucius let out a bark of laughter, but there was no humor in it. "Could be? Now I know you're dreaming. Have you any idea how expensive the ingredients are, let alone how difficult the potion is to brew? I fail to see how bankrupting us all is going to improve anything."
"Is that all you can think about — profits?" Augusta demanded, rounding on Lucius. "At a time like this?"
"There is a business case," Ted interjected before they could start arguing again. "Most potions are brewed in small batches, then sold through shops. Quality varies wildly — between shops and even between batches. The whole process is costly and, wasteful."
"And you have a solution for this?" Cornelius asked, intrigued by the idea.
"Industrial brewing," Ted explained. "The standard size 2 cauldron holds about one gallon. We are going to use size 12 cauldrons."
"Size 12?" Snape asked incredulously. "What nonsense is this? There's no such thing as a size 12 cauldron."
"Not yet," Ted continued. "But the goblins tell me they're capable of crafting them."
"How many gallons would that hold?" Cornelius asked curiously.
"If it follows the standard sizing model… fifty gallons," Snape said after a moment's thought.
Lucius's eyes narrowed, still skeptical. "And how much would it cost to forge these cauldrons of yours?"
"One hundred thousand galleons per cauldron," Ted explained. "We would need a minimum of three to brew in the quantities we'll need."
Lucius leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "A hundred thousand per cauldron…" He trailed off, a calculating glint in his eyes. "But if the goblins can actually forge them…"
"Why so much?" Augusta asked, not prepared for such a large financial commitment.
"Silver," Snape realized. "It reduces the likelihood of brewing failure, increases potency, and gives the potions a much longer shelf life. It can be done cheaper with copper, more so with pewter, but with the cost of ingredients and the significantly higher chance of brewing failure, the risks aren't worth it to use any other material."
"I know this is a lot," Harry said. "Especially with the Gringotts robbery. But there are too many of them, and not nearly enough of us capable of fighting them. Giving them the potion is our best chance."
Lucius's expression darkened. "You plan to give the potion away? After incurring all these costs?" he demanded, leaning forward.
"You're thinking too small," Cornelius said, understanding Harry and Ted's vision. "You are talking about creating an international wizarding business, aren't you?"
"Exactly," Ted replied. "The economies of scale will allow us to brew potions at a rate that's never been done before, and at a cost significantly lower than anyone else in the market. Think of the Wolfsbane as a proof of concept — a way to advertise the business rather than just an expense. Then we expand to other high-value potions."
"And I imagine other countries would also want Wolfsbane to deal with their own werewolf problems," Lucius said, catching on. "For them we could charge a much higher premium."
"There is still one problem you haven't addressed," Snape said, holding up his crippled arm. "I can't brew any of these potions. So how do you plan to brew fifty gallons at a time?"
"The plan isn't for you to brew the potions," Ted explained. "Your role will be to supervise a team of brewers. We'd like to start with ten and expand from there."
"Potion masters of Severus's caliber don't exactly grow on trees," Lucius pointed out. "Where do you expect to find the workforce?"
"We don't need certified potion masters," Harry explained. "Just witches and wizards that have the skill to carry out Professor Snape's instructions."
"They would need to be NEWT level at a minimum," Snape added thoughtfully, not dismissing the idea entirely.
"And you believe there are enough witches and wizards in Britain with the required skill?" Augusta asked.
"We can test for it to be certain," Snape replied. "And yes. There have been a few promising students I've taught over the years who would have the required skill."
"We'll advertise in both the Quibbler and the WWN," Ted explained. "Cast as wide a net as possible. Not just witches and wizards who graduated Hogwarts, but anyone who believes they have the required skill."
"Smart," Lucius conceded. "Recruitment and advertisement all rolled into one."
"We propose an ownership split," Ted continued. "Twenty percent each for Harry, Mr. Malfoy, Madam Longbottom, and Mr. Whitehorn. Fifteen percent for Mr. Snape, and five percent for Mr. Fudge."
"For me?" Cornelius asked, looking confused. "What would I be doing to earn that?"
"You will run day-to-day operations," Ted explained. "You have the experience, and the connections within the various wizarding governments we need to source the ingredients in bulk," Ted explained.
"That still leaves one problem," Lucius pointed out. "The new werewolf laws. They're not going to risk coming out of hiding just so they can be carted off to Azkaban, even with the offer of free wolfsbane."
"If we all agree to move forward with this, Scrimgeour won't have a choice but to go along with it as well," Ted explained.
"How can you be so sure of that?" Augusta asked skeptically.
"We have another meeting with him today," Ted explained. "To put it simply, his Ministership can't survive another scandal, another day of inaction. Standing in the way of the only meaningful attempt to curb Greyback's growing influence is something he can't afford to pass up."
"Very well," Augusta agreed, still leery of going into business with Malfoy of all people, but understanding the necessity of it. "You have my support Mr. Potter."
"And mine," Devlin agreed.
"This idea of yours is intriguing," Lucius replied. "Certainly more thought out than other business ventures I've been a part of," he added, impressed. "You have my support as well."
"And what about you Professor?" Harry asked Snape. "None of this works without you."
Severus looked at Harry, then around the table. He had felt all but useless since the healers told him he would never brew a potion again. This… this was a chance to do something meaningful with what remained of his life.
"Alright Mr. Potter," Severus agreed.
"I have been looking for something to do since my forced retirement," Cornelius smiled. "I'm in too."
Harry let out a relieved breath and smiled, feeling like he'd finally made some meaningful progress for the first time since this nightmare began.
***
Remus moved through the subway tunnel keeping his head down, but couldn't help but stare. 'They were better off on the streets,' he thought, wrinkling his nose as the unmistakable stench of rotting food and unwashed bodies hit him.
He pressed himself tightly against the cement wall as a werewolf shoved past him, clipping his shoulder, and nearly sending him sprawling to the ground.
Seconds later a fight broke out — three werewolves fighting over a stale loaf of bread while others jeered, egging them on, and laughing uproariously.
He kept his expression neutral, remaining silent as he ventured deeper into the tunnel, pushing through the throng of bodies to a less crowded section, only to get knocked to the ground as a child no older than eight barreled into his legs.
"Ouuf," Remus grunted, landing in a puddle of stagnant water, soaking his pants and jacket. "It's alright," he said quickly, meeting the frightened boy's eyes. "No harm done," he added, getting back to his feet, smiling reassuringly at the child as he dusted himself off.
"Marcus!" A woman cried, darting forward to pull the child into her arms. "I told you to stay with me," she scolded. "You know it's not safe to run around on your own."
"Sorry mom," the boy whispered. "I just.. I wanted to play with the other kids."
"Marcus," she sighed, her face etched with exhaustion, but her tone softening. "We've talked about this before. The other boys… there's much older than you. They play too rough."
"I'm stronger now too," the boy mumbled, his fists curled at his sides.
"I'm sorry sir," she said, gulping nervously as she hushed her son, tucking him behind her. "He's just a boy. He didn't mean any harm. If you need to be mad at someone, be mad at me."
"It's fine," Remus dismissed, taking a step closer. "Your son, he's a strong lad…" he trailed off, his smile faltering when she took a step back, the dim light illuminating her bruised arms and face.
"Are you alright?" He asked softly.
"I'm fine," the woman mumbled, edged backwards.
"Wait," Remus implored, the haunted look in her eyes a painful reminder of his own mother, and what his life had been like before Hogwarts. "My name is Remus. What's yours?"
"I'm nobody," she answered, refusing to meet his eyes, continuing her retreat.
"Please," Remus implored, taking a careful step forward. "I just got here. I don't know anyone. I don't know what's going on. Please… just talk to me."
"Y-you…" she stammered, eyes darting past him to the snarling werewolves still brawling a few feet away. "You.. Can you control it?"
"A little," Remus replied. "I've been a werewolf for a while. Since I was a child."
She flinched at the word "werewolf," tightening her grip on Marcus's shoulder. "A child?" her voice dropping to a whisper. "It takes that long?"
"No," Remus shook his head, keeping his hands visible. "This is something new. I was only able to control it after I came to Britain."
She swallowed hard, flinching as a distant howl echoed down the tunnel.
"I've been where you are now," Remus said quietly. "I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you it gets easier.."
"My husband tried to protect us. One night. Just one. They — that's all it took," she said, her shoulders shaking.
"I know," Remus replied, his voice tight. "It's not fair."
"Y-you sound different," she said slowly, still shielding Marcus behind her.
"I'm—"
"Don't," she cut him off, her voice sharp. "I've heard it before. Just… just tell me why you're really here," she said, pulling Marcus tighter to her side.
"I just want to know what's going on," Remus replied. "And to help you, if I can."
"If you hurt my son…" she trailed off, taking a shaky breath.
Remus nodded once, slow and careful as he met her eyes. "I won't."
The woman gave Remus a long look, deciding whether she believed him or not. "…Alright," she relented, jerking her head deeper into the tunnel, her voice barely about a whisper. "But not here. You keep your hands where I can see them."
Remus followed the woman and her son, giving them a wide birth, his shoulders tense as he scanned the tunnel ahead. The woman seemed genuine, but he'd been fooled before, and paid the price for trusting the wrong people.
They passed by many more werewolves, and far too many young children — a few clinging tightly to their parents, while others clustered together with dead eyed stares making Remus's heart lurch.
"Alright, we can talk here," she muttered after they arrived in a darkened, more secluded corner of the subway tunnel.
"Who are you?" Remus repeated, keeping his back pressed against the damp wall.
She hesitated, one arm still wrapped protectively around her son. "Sara Elwood. This is my son Marcus," she added, her eyes darting to the mouth of the tunnel before locking back on him. "Now tell me. How do you control it? I've asked the others. They either don't know… or refuse to tell me."
"…I don't know," Remus admitted. "I just… I push it down. It's not quite Occlumency, it's deeper."
"Can you teach us?" Sara asked, her voice cracking.
"I don't know. I've never tried," Remus admitted.
"Please," Sara asked, her hands trembling. "When it happens I lose control. We both do. I hardly even remember what I do — just flashes if I'm lucky… and even then I don't…." Her voice dropped. "I've hurt people."
"How long ago were you bitten?" Remus asked quietly.
"A few days ago," Sara replied, her eyes welling with tears she quickly blinked away. "Please.. We can't live like this."
"They came to our home," Sara continued, her voice barely holding together. "My husband.. He tried to fight them off, but they…"
Remus glanced down at the wedding ring on Sara's finger, piecing together what must have happened to her husband.
"I'm sorry," Remus said, the words rough in his throat. "I'm sorry that happened to you."
Sara nodded, pulling Marcus into a tight hug, angling her body to keep herself between Remus and her son.
"Can I ask?" Remus said carefully. "Why you? Why your family? I hadn't heard anything about werewolves attacking people's homes."
"I don't want to talk about that," Sara snapped. "Not here, not ever," She shot him a hard, fearful look. "You said you could control it. Were you telling the truth?"
Remus nodded, understanding why Sara was distrustful of him. She had every reason to be after what happened to her.
"Alright," he said, lowering himself onto a dry patch of concrete, his movements slow, and deliberate to prevent spooking her. "Do you know any Occlumency?"
"No," Sara shook her head.
"Alright, why don't you both sit down too?" Remus suggested, keeping his back against the wall. "The first step is clearing your mind."
Sara hesitated, eyes darting around the tunnel before finally pulling Marcus down with her.
"Start with your breathing first," Remus instructed, his voice steady. "Concentrate on each breath as it enters and leaves your lungs. I know it sounds boring but it's—" he froze mid sentence as an agonized howl split the air.
"What the hell was that?" Remus demanding, looking around wildly as he shot to his feet.
"Don't," Sara hissed, pulling Marcus closer as the tunnel went deathly silent.
"Don't what?" Remus asked sharply, heart hammering in his chest. "That was… Is someone being tortured?"
Sara shook her head, letting out a shaky breath. "Don't look. Don't try to find out what he's doing. Everyone that has — they never come back."
"Sara," Remus pressed. "You know something. What is it?"
"…There's another part of the subway," Sara finally whispered, glancing over her shoulder before continuing. "It leads to a cavern. Greyback doesn't let the rest of us in there — only his most trusted. The rumor is, he's looking for something."
"Looking for something?" Remus echoed, his eyebrows shooting up as another sharp howl echoed through the dark tunnel.
"I don't know," Sara replied. "But that's where he keeps the Aurors he's turned. He never lets them out. We hear them digging sometimes."
"Looking for something doesn't explain that," Remus said as another pain filled howl split the air.
"He forces them to change," Sara shivered. "Makes them fight each other… It sometimes spreads to the rest of us…"
Remus exhaled slowly, piecing together Greyback's plan. "The more we change, the easier it is for the wolf to take over.. The easier it is for him to control us."
Sara could only nod fearfully. "We can't leave. We've tried. Every time we change, we just end up right back here."
***
"I'm afraid you'll have to make an appointment," Delores said, a sickly sweet smile on her face as she looked up from her desk at Potter and his barrister.
"As I've said before, the Minister is a very busy man. How does a month from now sound?" she asked, pretending to look through the Minister's schedule.
"We're not waiting for an appointment," Ted said tightly. "We'll see him now."
"I'm afraid that's not possible," Delores replied, her smug smile widening. "And if you don't leave now I will be forced to call Aurors to escort you out."
Harry's nostrils flared, in no mood for games as he stormed past her, and slammed his fist on the door to the Minister's office.
"What?! You can't just-" Delores said furiously, her voice rising. "Aurors! Aurors!" She shouted frantically.
"Scrimgeour!" Harry shouted angrily. "Get out here!"
"What is it? What's going on?" Scrimgeour demanded, opening the door quickly. "Harry? Ted? What's happened?" His face paled, his stomach dropping at the thought of another attack
"We've secured funding to brew the Wolfsbane," Ted replied, glaring openly at the Minister. "Don't worry it won't cost the Ministry a sickle."
"Oh… Oh," Rufus said, smiling shakily. "That's wonderful news. I'll call for a press conference. We can announce the news together!"
"No," Harry shook his head, his voice cold. "No press conferences, no fluff pieces. We're not here for that." He stepped forward. "You're going to repeal the werewolf laws you passed, and you're going to release the werewolves you're holding in Azkaban by the end of the day."
"He most certainly will not," Delores interrupted furiously. "Those beasts are going to stay exactly where they belong!"
"Quiet," Rufus hissed, turning to glare at his secretary.
"Minister! You can't let this boy strong-arm you!" Delores implored.
"I said quiet!" Rufus shouted as two Aurors rounded the corner, wands drawn.
"Put those away unless you plan on using them," Harry said, staring the Aurors down.
Both Aurors shared a nervous glance before staring at the Minister.
"Put the bloody wands away!" Rufus snapped, turned back to Harry, his voice strained. "Harry, we've talked about this. I can't just repeal those laws. Only the Wizengamot can do that."
"And I've told you they're not here. We are," Harry replied."In fact--" he said pointing at one of the Aurors. "—get Bones. We're going to deal with this right now."
The Auror snapped to attention, his years of training kicking in. Despite Harry's age, he responded as if speaking to a commanding officer, turning on his heel and sprinting down the hallway
"Harry, what's going on?" Rufus demanded, only for Delores to begin screeching again.
"ENOUGH!" Rufus roared, finally turning the full force of his anger on Delores. "I don't give a damn who your father is!" He snarled, his hands clenching at his sides as he felt his bones shift beneath his skin. "You are a damn secretary! I do not want, nor have I ever asked for your counsel. You will be silent, and do your job. If you can't do that, find yourself another one!"
Delores stared at the Minister, her mouth agape, utterly stunned. Her eyes glistened for a moment at being spoken to in such a way — something Cornelius had never even thought about doing.
"Get out!" Rufus shouted. "I don't care where you go, just get the hell out!" He shoved his hands into his pockets, his jaw clenched as his fingernails elongated into claws.
Delores narrowed her eyes, glaring first at the Minister, then at Potter. "Fine," she spat, her voice trembling with fury and hurt. "But don't think this is the end of this!" She stormed past the crowd of ministry workers who quickly parted for her.
"What's going on?" Amelia asked as Delores brushed past her.
Harry exhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm down. "We all need to be on the same page about what's going to happen. The Wizengamot had abdicated their duty. The Supreme Mugwump is in hiding, and I'm not waiting any longer for Ogden to crawl out of whatever hole he's hiding in to repeal the werewolf laws."
"Harry," Rufus said, still visibly agitated, "I've told you before. I don't have the authority to repeal laws. I can propose them, but they need to be voted on and ratified by the Wizengamot."
"And I've told you, I don't care," Harry replied, his voice flat. "I'm the one of the front lines of this war, and I'm not going to keep fighting it with one arm tied behind my back."
"What are you proposing?" Amelia asked, agreeing wholeheartedly that something needed to be done, and soon.
"The werewolf laws need to go. All of them," Harry said. "You also need to release the werewolves you're holding in Azkaban unless you can charge them with an actual crime."
"I've tried," Amelia admitted. "I've personally spoke to every member of the Wizengamot that will take my floo calls. Most refuse to even hold a vote to elect a temporary Supreme Mugwump, let alone set foot in the Ministry since Greyback's first attack."
"We don't need them," Harry replied. "You're the Minister, and you're the head of the DMLE. We do this without them."
"It wouldn't be legal," Rufus pointed out. "The laws would still be on the books, at best we'd just stop enforcing them."
"Forget the legalities," Ted spoke up. "The Wizengamot should never have amassed this much power in the first place. It was meant to act as a check on the Ministry and the DMLE. It's long past time they returned to that role."
"You're talking about a coup," Rufus said aghast, "cutting out an entire branch of government."
"We're talking about survival," Harry replied, his voice hard. "We're talking about stopping Greyback before there's nothing left. Before we're all either werewolves, or dead. That's how this ends, because there's no place for any of us in the world he wants to create."
"The world?" Amelia asked, alarmed.
"Do you really think he's really going to be satisfied with a single wizarding country?" Ted asked skeptically.
Rufus shook his head, taking a step back, his face ashen. "This is too much."
"Greyback isn't the same mindless brute from the last war," Ted continued. "Everything he's done has been for a larger purpose. A corner stone of his plan is the recruitment of werewolves — and you've been doing that job for him since the war began."
"What are you proposing?" Amelia asked.
"Wolfsbane," Harry said, explaining the plan. "But it only works if the werewolves know they won't be arrested or killed the moment they come out of hiding."
"And you think this will work?" Amelia pressed.
"I think a lot of them follow Greyback because they don't have a choice," Harry said. "If we give them another option we reduce the risk of anyone else being turned."
Amelia studied him for a long moment, then gave a sharp nod. "Alright. I'm with you."
"I'm going to announce it all in the Quibbler," Harry said.
Rufus looked between Harry and Amelia silently. His dream of being inducted into the Wizengamot had proved to be just that — a foolish dream. Even if things hadn't gone so wrong, that path had never as straightforward as he once believed.
What mattered now was his survival. Protecting his secret — no matter the cost — and he could only do that so long as he remain Minister.
"…I'm in as well," he finally said with a heavy sigh.
***
Delores stepped into her father's home, stomping up the stairs to her father's bedroom still fuming.
She hadn't left when Scrimgeour ordered her to, and instead trusted her instincts, watching from around the corner as Scrimgeour, Potter, and Bones concocted their plan to overthrow the Wizengamot with growing fury.
"Father," she said, shoving open the door to the master bedroom.
Orford Umbridge looked up from his bed with a tired groan. "Delores, what are you doing here?" he asked in a raspy voice, still recovering from the numerous injuries he'd suffered from the attack on the Ministry. "Shouldn't you be at work?"
"I left," Delores said crossing her arms as she sat down on the chair beside her father's bed.
"What? Why?" Orford asked, sitting up.
"I had to tell you what happened," Delores said, taking her father's hand. "Bones and Scrimgeour — they've joined up with the Potter boy. They're plotting to overthrow the Wizengamot."
Orford let out a wheezing cough before addressing his daughter. "Delores… I think you'd better start from the beginning," he said, knowing there had to be more to it than that.
"Potter," Delores said darkly. "He's trying to ruin your legacy. He's convinced Bones and Scrimgeour not to enforce any of the werewolf restrictions you fought to pass, giving them Wolfsbane, and for free no less. Can you imagine? Those filthy creatures," she spat.
"…Oh," Orford said, a hollow feeling settling in his chest.
"That's all you have to say?" Delores snapped, looking at her father disbelievingly. "That's your life's work they're talking about destroying. Why don't you care?"
"…I've had a long time to think," Orford said quietly. "Being bedridden for this long… I see things differently now."
"What? Father you're not making any sense," Delores said, shaking her head in disbelief. "Are you taking your medicine?"
"This has nothing to do with my injuries… or my medicine," Orford said, letting out another weak cough.
"Then what? What is this?" Delores demanded. "This isn't you."
"When Greyback grabbed me by the throat," Orford said, his voice weak, "when he attacked me… no one… no one even tried to help me. Except that boy, Harry."
"He didn't do a very good job of it, did he?" Delores said snidely.
"I thought they were my allies," Orford said, ignoring his daughter's jab. "But they all just stood there. I see it now…" He let out a bitter laugh that turned into a cough. "They led me around by the nose, and like the doddering old fool I am, I didn't see it. They convinced me to support the laws they wanted, and I did it. My hatred for werewolves… it blinded me. I didn't see then how easily they manipulated me with it."
"What are you even saying father?" Delores demanded. "It sounds almost as if you sympathize with these beasts. Look at what they've done to you."
"It's my fault this happened," Orford confessed. "All of this. Everything that's happening is my fault." He sighed, the sound ragged. "If I hadn't… If I'd just been…"
"I got a law passed that barred werewolves from attending Hogwarts. Greyback… He would have attended Hogwarts if not for me… And maybe if he had, he wouldn't have became what he is."
"They're all like that," Delores denied. "It's their cursed blood, that's why they need to be eradicated. That's what you've always said, Father."
"I was wrong," Orford confessed, squeezing his daughter's hand.
Delores pulled her hand back like it was on fire, staring at her father as if he were a stranger.
"Delores," Orford said, holding his hand out for her. "You need to listen. You need—"
"NO," Delores interrupted, staring at her father in disbelief. "I don't know what's gotten into you. It has to be this medicine. It's done something to you."
"It's not the medicine," Orford insisted. "And I've never thought more clearly in all my life. These people… they didn't choose to be bitten." He broke into another wheezing cough, louder and harsher than before.
"You'll see," Delores said, handing her father a glass of water. "When you get better. When you get off this damn medicine you'll see things the right way around again."
"No, Delores," Orford said, shaking his head as he took a sip, his hand trembling. "I've ruined so many lives. Good people, just trying to get by… I kicked them when they were down, and for what? It didn't make us any safer. It didn't prevent anyone from getting bitten."
"…Father," Delores said shaking her head, feeling betrayed. This was the man who raised her, taught her everything she knew.
Orford started coughing again, worse than before. He clutched his chest as the water glass slipped from his fingers, crashing to the floor. Weakly, he pointed at the potion vial on his nightstand.
"Father!" Delores cried, her eyes wide. She lunged for the potion vial, quickly uncorking it.
Orford held his hand out weakly, slumping against the pillows.
Delores stopped, looking between her father, and the vial in her hand. Something cold settling in her chest as he wheezed on the bed, looking old and frail, nothing like the man she looked up to growing up.
Slowly, with shaking hands, she corked the vial and placed it back on the nightstand, just out of his reach. Then she took his hand and sat silently on the edge of the bed.
Orford's eyes widened looking at his daughter wildly, shock and confusion on his face. He tried to speak but couldn't, his voice nothing more than a faint, wheezing cough.
He struggled to break his daughter's grip, to reach for the vial himself, only for Delores to tighten her grip on his hand.
"Shhh," Delores said, staring straight ahead. "I don't want to remember you this way… this weak… this enfeebled.
Orford's struggles weakened, but the look of shock and betrayal remained on his face as his gasps for breath grew weaker and weaker.
Delores looked down at her father's hand, still held in hers, his skin slowly going cold to the touch. Then she reached up and gently closed his eyes, and kissed his forehead. "Goodbye, Father," she whispered, promising herself she wouldn't remember him the way he was in his last moments
He was too far gone, she told herself. His injuries had made him weak and delirious. "It wasn't really him," Delores said to herself. "His mind had obviously deteriorated due to his injuries. He wouldn't have wanted to go on like that."
***
Hi! Thanks for reading :) I hope you enjoyed the new chapter. There was a lot happening in this chapter, especially for Delores.
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