Hogwarts - A New Era Has Dawned - A New Lord Has Risen

Stepping back through the portal, Eden found herself in the Ravenclaw common room once more. It was a relief to finally be alone—or so she thought. Just beyond the couch she saw something move through the darkness of the large room.

“I thought I told you not to wait up for me?” Eden stated once Noah neared the fireplace, stepping into a patch of light. There were noticeable dark circles beneath both his eyes. “Do you ever do what you’re told, kid?”

“Willya stop calling me kid?” he demanded in a frustrated tone.

Eden suppressed a laugh. “Would you rather it be cub?”

He looked mortified. “No! Just call me Noah like a normal person would.”

“Listen,” Eden stated, crouching down to be on Noah’s level. “I’m supposed to take care of you while you’re here.” When Noah made a skeptical expression, Eden continued, “Yeah, I’m not a fan of this situation either. Just stay out of trouble and we can both breathe easy, alright? I’ve got bigger fish to fry than you, little man.”

With that, Eden took off for her dorm. She didn’t fancy having another conversation with Noah so late at night. She had Wolf’s Elixir to brew tonight, and that wasn’t even counting the time it would take her to fall asleep with so many thoughts running through her mind… it was just too much.

Feeling heavily burdened, Eden trudged up the stone dormitory staircase.

OOC: Shall we skip to the summit, or what did you have planned?

OOC: No, the summit sounds good. Then the Azkaban breakout can happen afterward, if that's okay with you.

OOC: I'm so sorry that i haven't been around...a post is coming, don't worry! This board is being lame, its not letting me view this thread sometimes, and it sometimes won't let me post. This is going to be a massive post, and I've got to give it some more thought. I'm not dead, I'm still here....don't worry!

OOC: Like hell this board sucks. Sometimes it lets me post, sometimes it doesn't. I'm SO sorry that the thread has died because of me!

OOC: I Promise that I'm still here. Life has taken an unexpected turn. Post in response if you're still there, too.

I'm still here! It's been such a long time since we actually had this going. If we ever resume I'm going to end up forgetting absolutely everything that happened

Sorry for the double post, but if you're comfortable with this idea, would you want to start another Hogwarts RP? It could be completely separate from this one if you wanted. If you're OK with it, then let me know and we can discuss!

OOC: I'm fairly ashamed at my lack of activity on this thread. No...I really am! I have been neglecting this board completely, and THIS story wasy myf avorite, too!

I swear that I'm going to read over everything that we wrote, and I'm going to deliver on the Summit post. I can only ask your forgiveness to pardon me and my laziness and lack of effort...we both had a great thing going, and i swear I'll go back to bat for it!

OOC: Wow... I can't believe we're going to give this another go! This was seriously one of my favorite RP's of all time. I'll have to skim over things as well, just to make sure I haven't missed out on any parts of the plot, but I'm looking forward to your Summit post!

OOC: I'm excited to announce that my post is more than half-way done! I apologize, the reason that I haven't been posting is that I've been busy, AND major slacking off. Truly, you are a person of almost endless patience to have not hunted me down and forced me to sit down and write.

OOC: Yes, I actually do have endless patience. =) Don't worry about hurrying, just take your time and make sure you're happy with whatever you write! I will probably take a while to respond, as I should probably skim over the last page of posts just to make sure everything I write fits with the plot.

International Summits were always a constant source of amusement to Sarah. She had been present at only a few of them, being as she a fairly young Auror, but still they were memorable. Her job was to usually sit with Bullhorn and mend whatever wounds he would cause with his abrasive demeanor at delicate gatherings. The fact was that she enjoyed the flowery eloquent battles of speech more than the chasing down of suspects and the brawls that ensued. She far preferred fast paced words to fast paced malicious curses flying in the air.

Now she watched Britain prepare itself for the meet form her position in the other camp. It was something strange, to be sure. Sam had to tell her many times to sit down and let everyone else take care of things. She was used to being half Prime Minister, half coffee girl, and half baby-sitter when it came to these things. Sam assured her that everything was taken care of.

She had believed it, too. The entire lower level of the Marriot Hotel in New York had been rented out, and things were going fabulously smoothly until she realized that there was a large crowd started to gather outside. Such a large influx of powerful wizards from the two mega-powers in the world was abound to attract some sort of attention, and all of it unwanted. Therefore, great pains had been made to keep everything sealed up tight before the leaders started arriving. Knowing and understand this (she had even overseen the placement of some of the security lines before Sam dragged her away) she was keen to know why the general public in America was so curious, and so privy to this sort of information.

So with pursed lips, she descended upon the Unit as they were waiting for Jake and Sam to finish up, upstairs.

“There is a circus outside!” Her face wore an expression of worry, “What’s the deal? This was all strictly confidential!”

“Smithson has been doing his work, again,” Timothy grunted, “We’ll have to watch the papers closely, now. If he even gets a grain of truth he's going to blow it completely out of proportion. Oh, don't look at us like that. God knows no one can get in here, but any person on the street can feel the auras from us wizards--its causing confusion. People are asking questions, and Smithson will give them answers, even if they're completely false."

“Who is Smithson?”

“A skunk.” Heath chuckled grimly from across the room.

“A rat.” Joshua looked up from the hotel’s guestbook.

“A skunky rat, more accurately.” Heath’s jaw clenched, and he came away from the window seat to speak more clearly with Sarah, “Jay Smithson is a freelance reporter, and has been giving us trouble for years. He’s damningly persistent, and has a pathological resistance to understanding and abiding by the word, ‘no.’ He also nurses a deep-rooted need to expose all of our mysterious workings, while hiding behind the shield of freedom of the press. He knows every single loop-hole in the system of the American government, and exploits this at every turn—meaning that we’re almost helpless when it comes to prosecuting him for his actions.”

“What actions?” Sarah inquired further, feeling as though she were trying to get together a story from a michevious 6-year-old.

“Countless domestic operations had nearly been spoiled thanks to Jay’s ‘investigative reporting’ and his connections to the West and East coast papers.” Heath finished, glowering, "Tim was right--we'll need to regulate what is said now, carefully. He'll start at the West Coast to test the waters, and then move East to see if we have anything to say about it."

"What will he say?" Sarah was amazed at how the Unit was taking this all in perfect stride, "He knows there are powerful wizards inside here--"

"He'll tie it to something completely unrelated to what's actually going on, if we give him a pat on the head and throw him a bone," Joshua said, "He'll be dropping by our DC office soon, you watch. If we don't placate him with money or something, he'll just keep investigating further into this matter."

She pursed her lips again, "Aren't there laws against this sort of thing?"

“Freedom of the Press can really suck, my friend," Heath sighed, "And, oh, he’s careful to stay perfectly within his legal rights—“

“Most of ‘em are—“ Matt muttered mutinously

“—but still, a skunky rat nonetheless.”

“You’re saying that one of your civilian reporters managed to compromise this meet?” If possible, Sarah’s eyes opened even further with shock, “And here I was, thinking that we’d be safe from dark wizards attacking and Wolves spying—but a reporter got wind of this already?”

“Dark wizards and Wolves we can handle,” Sam bustled into the room with Jake in tow, just in time to hear the tail end of the conversation, “But the inquisitive snitches of the public pose an even greater problem. Sarah, Jake is here and they’re ready for you in the Conference Room—“

Jake flashed past Sam, halfway through the process of tying his tie, “—Sarah let’s go—“

A few hasty handshakes, meaningful nods and claps on the back—Jake and Sarah were gone.

The two vanished around the corner, down the hall to the ‘Conference Room.’

Without any hesitation, the remaining members of the Unit turned into each other and began to confer about their fearless leader, whom they hadn’t seen or heard from in quite a while.

“Did you see his face?”

“God, he looked like he rolled out of bed and first thing grabbed a Portkey”
“He looked like hell is what he looked like.”

“We all do.” Tim ran his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes briefly.

“I found him crashed on a couch at one of our West Coast safe houses, watching TV, feeling sorry for himself—a general mess.” Sam rubbed the gray stubble on his chin as he recalled the event, “ I could barely get him up and dressed. The weird thing is that the Tuesday before, he and I went to DC to make our report to the president, and he had seemed fine, then. I think it finally just hit him—when he was good and alone—that he’s going to take the complete fall for what happened that night. Britain will rip him apart in there if he doesn’t watch himself.” He jerked a thumb towards the conference room.

“I’ve never known him to just vanish off the face of the Earth to deal with something,” Heath frowned at Sam’s tale, “I mean, ever.”

“Well, he’s never had to make a call like this, before,” Sam replied wisely, “Jack was always the one that called the hard shots—our Jacob isn’t used to everyone looking to him. I mean, as our Unit leader he was used to it…but—“

“The entire department, the entire country, the entire world is staring at him right now,” Heath finished, “Or at least the part of the world that really knows what’s going on.”

“Alright, alright…” Sam rubbed his temples, closing his eyes in thought, “With Jake and Sarah in the conference room, we have other things to take care of. Namely, the mad crowd in front of the Marriot. If we don’t move fast, the muggles are going to join in with them. Matt—Tim, our resident pretty boys...see if you can spot Jay and draw those people away from the security line."

“On it.” Matt grunted.

_______________________________________________

For Tim and Matt, It had been a quick matter to apparate out of the Marriot and start walking nonchalantly towards the building as though they just happened to be in the neighborhood. Although their step was light and jaunty, both men had heavy thoughts on their minds—thinking not only of what was going on inside the Marriot, but outside as well.

“Damn, we’ve been in dangerous missions before…” Tim whispered to his partner as they approached the hotel, “but why does it feel now more than ever, that we’re way over our hears?”

“Shit…” Matt muttered to his partner as they first spotted the madness, “There’s your answer…”

“Whoever picked New York as the location for the Summit, today, was an idiot.” Tim growled, bitterly.

There were wizards crowding around the security line at Park Avenue and Fifty-second, hundreds of them massing in front of the barricades. It was high noon, and a lot of people had nothing better to do than mill about aimlessly until someone answered their questions. There were shouts coming from the crowd, but from their distance, neither Matt nor Tim could make out what was being demanded. The last thing that they needed was for some of these loud cries to contain condemning words like ‘wizards’ or ‘wands’ because now muggles were starting to drift over and join the throng, wondering what was going on.

“Curious muggles...." Tim sighed. He and Matt crossed the street and started trotting down the sidewalk to better get a scope of the crowd, "This whole thing just keeps getting better and better..."

They hopped off the curb and walked down the middle of the road, passing through people gently, looking for only one man.

"Where is he, where is he?" Matt mused to himself, "We know he'll be here. He likes to watch the things he stirs up...like poking a beehive with a stick--"

“SMITHSON!” Tim gave a hoarse shout and plunged into the crowd. He emerged with a short skinny man in tow and a blazing expression in his face, “You RAT!”

“Hands ‘offame, Howard!” Jay was all smiles and sunshine as he wriggled out of Tim’s vice-like grip, “Say cheeeese!”

There was a blinding flash of light from Jay’s camera, and Tim grunted, staggering back and blinking furiously, flashes of red and white and purple messing with his retinas. Once he finally regained his sight, Jay was (of course) gone.

“SHIT!” Tim exploded again, turning to Matt, “I should have known, I should have known, I should have KNOWN…”

In the past, Jack had often jokingly drafted plans to kidnap or otherwise impair the sneaky Boston native…but right about now, Tim was recalling a particularly painful one that involved the creative use of thumbscrews…

He pushed the thought out of his mind. Jay had managed to get away (again) so now they had one more task in mind. It was time to play charming, breezy celebrity.

As expected, people were starting to notice them, now, the two rugged, burly Beaters of the American Eagles. The names started dropping and half of their impromptu mission was already completed.

Fingers began pointing.

“Hey, isn’t that Matt Cooper?”

“Oh my GOSH it’s TIM HOWARD!”

The revelation spread quickly, and within half a minute, all eyes were on the pair. Matt gave his best ‘on-stage-in-front-of-camera’ smile, and immediately launched into an energetic rant about nothing in particular. He went on about how the team was in town for a few days, about the trip from Denver—(He was careful to not mention a Portkey or a Quidditch stadium, or anything that would give him away as a wizard)—about how New York was great and its people were awesome—cheers went up at this added accolade, they now had the full attention of the crowd— how he and Tim had gotten lost from the rest of the group and had ambled over just to see what was going on—here ten dozen people at once shouted over each other offering their assistance with directions…

While Matt went on, rambling senselessly, just trying to keep the people interested, Tim’s sharp hawk-eyes combed the crowd looking for Jay. It was of little use, however. The reporter was gone, and wouldn’t show up again until he wasn’t wanted.

Matt was still talking fast and going strong. Tim threw in a few smiles and waves and grins to keep the people abated. They were in a tough spot, now. Tim quietly nudged his partner in the ribs, sending a wordless message, ‘come on, we don’t have much time…’

Matt got the message, and slowly started to walk backwards down Park Avenue after jotting down directions to an imaginary spot, given to him by an enthusiastic teenage witch. The pair ambled away slowly, managing to draw maybe a fourth of the diehard Quidditch fans away from the Marriot. Tim felt as though he were coaxing a pack of reluctant dogs away from an interesting smell.

Figuring that they might as well do it right, Matt offered an open invitation to the New York Quidditch stadium for anyone who wanted to try and fly against the two of them. This was met with a roar of approval, and the witches and wizards were now following them at a right smart pace. Still all smiles and sunshine, Matt pulled out his cell to make a few frantic calls--first one to Jake to let them know where they were headed, and then to the stadium itself to prepare for an assault of massive proportions...

___________________________________________________________
Seconds before entering the Conference Room, Jake got a text from Matt.

"Tim and Matt got the crowd under control," He whispered to Sarah, touching her elbow and compelling her forward again, "They're heading to the Quidditch Stadium in Manhattan for some impromptu professional/amateur flying time with the general public."

"Quick thinking." Sarah smiled, "We'll pick them up from there, later, then."

Someone had turned the hotel’s dinner hall into a Conference Room, complete with an oblong modern-style black table, plus matching plush chairs. Jake wished for a fleeting moment as he walked in that he had thought to bring his briefcase. It would not at all look out of place.

Various wizards of importance were scattered around the room, some sitting, and some making conversation. All of them looked up and stopped talking when Jake entered, though.

“Man of the hour.” Sarah muttered out of the corner of her mouth as the two took their seats.

“Alright, gentlemen.” Jake said shortly, taking his seat at the head of the table, “Shall we get started?”

“It speaks wonders about the quality of American security, that there are wizards crowding around the building of a highly secret meeting.” Bullhorn said louder than usual, sending Jake a scathing look as the assembled company drifted to the table and took their seats.

Jake decided not to respond to that jibe. He bit his lip and started almost at once to drum his fingers on the table. Sarah saw his disquieted demeanor, and leaned in.

“He’s all bark but no bite, remember that.” She whispered to him.

“How in the world did he become your Prime Minister?” Jake rolled his eyes, speaking through clenched teeth, “He’s loud, rude, abrasive, refuses to listen to anyone’s ideas besides his own—“

“Admittedly, his foreign policy skills leave much to be desired…” The corners of Sarah’s mouth twitched a bit, “…but he has a good heart for the people. He has the best interest of the country in mind, and he’ll be damned if he lets anything get in the way of that. Unfortunately, Jake, right now he sees you and the rest of America as that sort of an obstacle.”

“Fantastic.” Jake rubbed his face with his hands, trying to wipe away the sleep that was still in his eyes.

“You can do this, Jake.”

Jake turned dark eyes on the woman in front of him, and when he spoke his voice was painfully flat—there were no inflections to be had anywhere at all, “I never wanted the job of Director—or even Deputy Director. I was perfectly fine with being a Senior Field Agent. Point me in the direction of the bad guy and say ‘go get ‘im!’ I can do that, and I can do it damn well…but don’t give me a microphone and expect me to feed lies to an entire nation. Don’t expect me to pander to barbed comments from disgustingly important people. This is Jack’s place, here. He was damn good at this. It was why our country as a whole loved him and hated him—“ Jake gestured vaguely to the scene around him, giving a hollow laugh, “—A room full of glass smiles and stiff suits is a hell of a lot scarier to me than throwing down with those Wolves.”

The British Ambassador rose to his feet and began things off with a flowery speech, “Lady and gentlemen, witch and wizards, over the past year or so, an extremely powerful werewolf named Antigonus has been gathering an army in our country. This issue runs far deeper than just a grudge match between wolves and humans—this is a matter that threatens to inflame and infect every part of wizarding society, worldwide.” Here the man gave a nod to Jake and his unit, along with the American Ambassador, “We are glad to have the help and resources of the United States in this conflict.”

“And we are glad to give it,” Jake nodded in response to the Ambassador’s opening words, “It is my greatest hope that our time here will be well spent.”

General murmurs of agreement rolled through the room. Jake took a deep breath and sat back down next to Sarah, who patted his leg in what was meant to be a comforting way.

Jacob, while he did appreciate Sarah’s support, wished that the young woman hadn’t made the gesture. Bullhorn’s small, beady black eyes had seen it, and his eyebrows were now thrust firmly into the air. Jacob seethed a little inside. The last thing he needed was for the Prime Minister to think he was weak, or unprepared…

“Our purpose here today is to address a few matters of concern that are heightening the tension in this era,” The British Ambassador shuffled through his notes, clearing his throat as he began to read “First of all—reports have it that a student from Hogwarts was taken by the Wolves and converted into one of them. Today we will be addressing the Initiatives response to the situation—or shall we say, lack of response.”

Jack closed his eyes for a few beats, and then opened them once more, his jaw set. They were on. Britain wanted answers. Jake filled his lungs and took a stab at it, delivering his carefully worded exposition.

“Our intentions to bring a swift and effective end to the malicious workings of the Wolves have not gone unnoticed. The Wolves have made their first retaliatory strike, acting at the Quidditch Game at the stadium in Denver by taking Race Cunningham—who was a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A team of Initiative agents were present, overseeing happenings, watching things carefully. We received a tip-off from a trusted source that something was about to happen, which is why there were extra agents planted in the crowd.” Jake licked his lips and continued, “The Wolves took us by surprise—we did not expect Jasper, who was a student at the school himself, to be the one who went for the boy.”

Arthur Maverson, head of the Auror Office, frowned, “Your DC report was sent directly to me, Director Grose, as you requested. Upon reading it, I was quite disturbed and affronted to discover that you ordered your team of agents to stand down even when you had ample opportunity to storm the manor and get the boy back.”

Jake tried not to look at Bullhorn. After their meeting at Hogwarts, Bullhorn was bound to be absolutely furious that a detailed report had been sent to his own building, but that he had not been allowed to read it.

“Jack Crosslin is undercover with the Wolves, as you all know,” Jake spoke slowly, “And it would have put him in a bad position if we had gone thundering into his mansion, to liberate the boy. The successful capture of Race Cunningham was needed to further the Operation.”

Maverson turned up his nose in disgust, “Director, what I’m just struggling to understand is how you American wizards reach the point where you can say, ‘just go ahead and throw this life away.’ Putting your man in a ‘bad spot’ weighs against the life of an innocent teenage boy?”

“And where is their man?” Bullhorn spoke up, spreading his arms wide, and looking around him with mock surprise, “Where is the esteemed hero, then? Your valiant warrior who willingly went into the maw of the lion—he doesn’t seem to be here among us, does he?”

“Why won’t we all just shut up?” Jake growled, feeling his patience wearing extremely thin. A few gasps went up from representatives as he continued, in a hesitatingly more respectful tone, “Run us through the options, Agent Cunningham.”

“Our retaliatory choices are limited,” Sarah spoke earnestly and slowly, trying to make sure that everyone was getting what she was talking about, “Key people need to be informed at once. The more we keep this silent, the more power that the Wolves are going to get. With people unsuspecting, the Wolves have much more room to go out and enact their next plans.”

Here the liaison officer paused. She saw that all eyes were on her, and she changed tack, speaking firmly, “We are all adults here. So I’m going to speak plain—“

“—Please do!” Maverson grunted.

“—Operation Dragonfly is still going strong, but the Wolves are much more cunning and dangerous than what we expected. Although they acted out against us, we cannot afford to launch a full-scale attack in return. Brute spellforce isn’t going to win us this battle. We need to engage the Wolves with diplomacy.”

“Diplomacy!” Bullhorn barked, speaking for the first time. His abrasive volume made everyone in the room wince as his voice echoed off the walls of the lobby, “How can you stand there and go on, so? They took your brother! If you were in your right mind, you would be calling for blood as well as the rest of us!”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Maverson frowned, “Director Grose said not but a moment ago that the Wolves were trying to send us a message. Well, I see the message as clear as you do. Wolves know only action; respect only force. How is diplomacy the answer?”

“My brother was my brother, nothing more and nothing less,” Sarah said coolly, “If the Wolves had taken our Prime Minster, or their muggle chief-of-state, then we could consider it an act of war, and lash back with no holds barred. But, no. They took my kid brother. It was a message that they were trying to send. And it’s working. By taking a British wizard in an American country the Wolves have made sure that we’re going to be spending the next three or four weeks at each others throats, trying to find our way out of this, keeping ourselves busy so that they can plan their next step. It’s their crude and cruel way of diplomatically working with us. The ball is in our court, if I may use that expression. We need to send another message.”

“Then let it be with force!” Bullhorn said loudly, and a few of the present representatives nodded enthusiastically.

“The issue was not black and white, sir,” Jake tried valiantly, “There is only one responsible action—“

“—and you didn’t take it. And that is why we are here today,” Arthur said with finality, “Director Grose, your country took a huge gamble, here. Sending in your chief-of-state as an undercover agent was a massively destabilizing move! What could you have expected?”

It went on like this for a good two hours or more—Jake really couldn’t tell. He lost track of things the first time that the conversing and debating had gone full circle.

Soon, Jake was itching to get up and get out. Every extra minute spent in the hotel playing hardball with the British representatives was a minute wasted—a minute that he could have spent out on the field. And not on the Quidditch field, but out trying to save American from being brought down flat onto its face.

As Jake got more and more wound up, conversely, Sarah became more cool and collected as time wore on. She answered the questions of her past colleagues with an easy firmness that acted as a calming salve on the group, even keeping Bullhorn in his seat. She did not once raise her voice; she spoke plainly and refused to match the heightened pitches and emotions around her. Jake felt his respect for the young woman growing.

Right now, her primary objective was to prove to her countrymen that she was still mentally fit to keep working this case. If anyone got a hint of any weakness because of her brother’s situation, they would pull her, and allow statesmen with no emotional ties handle things. Jake could not afford this. Sarah was probably the only Auror in the entire Department who saw things the way that he did. She was too valuable to be pulled.

Once in a while, a sharp comment or question would be flung Jake’s way, but they came with decreasing frequency. Sarah was practically running the show. Jake started to feel that she was better suited to his job than he was. Jack would be proud of her, wherever he was.

KA-FAAAM

All at once, a blast of light and heat. Papers were blown from binders. Wands were out and voices were raised. Instant chaos descended on the room, and none other than Jack Crosslin was standing in the middle of it, at parade rest, dressed smartly and properly in a suit and tie with a briefcase to accent his attire.

When breaths had been caught and heart rates settled, Jack made his salutations.

"My apologies for arriving late," He spoke quietly, but everyone listened with rapt attention, "I had business matters to attend to. Some of you here know me, and some of you do not. Those who do know how completely and truly sorry I am for my tardiness. Sometimes these things just can't be helped."

"Jack..." Jake coughed a bit to clear his throat and cut the tension, "...As sudden and as attention demanding as ever. Welcome back, at least for the moment."

"It's nice to be back, Director Grose." Jack looked for all the world as though everything were perfectly normal. He strode over to Jake and Sarah with his smooth, flawless step and sank down in the empty seat next to them, "I knew I did have to at least show up to confirm that I was still alive and well."

Bullhorn was beside himself.

"W--Wh--WHAT?" He sputtered, complete shock and surprise etched all over his face, "I--W--"

"Ah...erm..." The American Ambassador was obviously struggling for words as well, "May I introduce to the council, Director Jack Crosslin?"

"What's the matter, Prime Minister?" Jack asked mildly, his eyebrows raised, "Are you surprised to see me?"

While Bullhorn tried in vain to collect the shattered bits of his composure, Maverson moved in swiftly.

"Yes, actually, we are." The man tapped his pen on the table, looking intently at the chief-of-state of the United States, "If your mission is such a high priority top secret operation that you had to maim a teenage boy, then how did you manage to get the permission to come skipping into here as though nothing had changed?"

"Times are changing, good sir," Jake said smoothly, "Because of that grim sacrifice, I can be here with you with the full confidence of the Wolf, Antigonus. And now we shall stop dithering around, if you will allow me to use that turn of phrase, and we shall actually confer."

"You seem to be with more than just confidence, if you don't mind me saying, sir." Maverson said carefully.

In the fresh light from the room, Jacob had to admit that Jack looked darker, more feral than he had even a few weeks ago. Was the full moon approaching? Jake felt a twinge inside of him somewhere. Jack was officially a wolf.

Jack hardly batted an eye at this.

Sarah was there in a second, "Mr. Maverson, you know as well as I do that Jack can only be with us for a limited amount of time before he has to go back to his post. Now, let's not go back and do a full circle. We have already laid out options and retaliatory suggestions. Let our inside man say his piece."

From the second Jack opened his mouth and began to explain the inner workings of the Wolves, Jake knew why Jack was admired and feared and trampled on in America. His words were carefully crafted in such away that if you tried sifting through their meaning, your head would be left in shambles. There was nothing dishonest or malicious about them, no, Jack was just simply speaking in the way that he did. He was a born orator.

If Sarah had managed to convince the Britains to listen, then Jack's sudden appearance and calm demeanor drilled any nails home. Soon all accusatory fingers had been laid to rest.

"I'm glad we settled that matter..." Maverson glanced over at the Prime Minister, who was still looking at the entire American Administration with a great deal of dislike, "Shall we move on?"

The matter of Hogwarts' Arithmancy teacher was discussed, her potential involvement, what she could do, all that stuff. Jack stepped forward and spoke for twenty minutes about math and its practical applications, and how this lady could possibly be the more dangerous opponent, even when compared to Antigonus. No one raised any objections but Bullhorn, who demanded rudely to know how arithmetic and times tables could undo anything.

Also, Jessica's role in Operation Dragonfly was brought up--her current state in affairs. Jake and Jack spoke very plainly about what Jessica was expected to do, and what she already had done--and with the combined salves of Sarah's and Jack's words, no objections were made.

For the next three hours, every topic was revisited and glazed over. Again, Jake's head was spinning with the circular pattern of it all. For forty-five minutes they revolved the same set of points again and again.

At last, conclusions were made and goodbyes made. The men and woman rose to their feet, shook hands, and so ended the American/European Summit.

As the British Administrative wizards filed out of the room, Jake took Jack to the side for a brief talk.

"How is she?" Jack asked right away before Jake could even open his mouth.

"Scared." Jake answered truthfully, biting his lip, "But trying to be strong. For you."

____________________________________________________________

OOC: Well, there it is. You've been waiting for like a year for that. Yikes. I'm real sorry. The writing is awkawrd in spots, and the ending is INCREDIBLY rushed. I just wanted to get something up here for you, because i really did feel bad. I don't know where you want to start now.

OOC: Oh my goodness. That was very long, but very good. I was absolutely riveted to the section where Jake was answering questions, and then of course, when Jack made his entrance!

Wow, I’m a bit confused as to where we should go from here now, but I’ll just write my post and see where it takes me. Also, sorry if I mess up in certain areas or forget things…it has definitely been a while and it might take me a few posts to get back in the swing of this story.

IC:

The room was as elegant as it had ever been, with its dark crimson wallpaper and arching windows that stretched to the ceiling. Just beyond the spotless glass lay the rolling hills of the Manor’s surrounding grounds which stretched on into the horizon and met with the shadowed forest that marked the end of the property. Above it, the moon was but a sliver in the dark night sky, though it glowed brightly over the hills, illuminating the scenery beyond the spacious dining room where Antigonus’ Wolves had gathered in their entirety.

That night was a very special occasion, for the Wolves had collected a particular witness to bring before their leader. This man was especially important to their plans, and a particular wolf, one Damon Radner, was more than delighted to have come across this wizard in a dark alley after the International Summit earlier that day. Although Radner already belonged to the special inner circle of the Wolfram’s most trusted, he had developed an intense, burning respect for the man in the scarlet robes at the head of the long dining table. Perhaps he did fear Antigonus, but that fear did not make him cower like a sniveling sycophant; it made him a proud attendant of the most powerful werewolf in history. He was in awe of the man before him, and for Radner, pleasing his master was not simply a task he performed to avoid death or gain power; it was his life’s purpose.

The scene was just as he had expected; his brothers and leader before him, each one staring at the bound man he was currently levitating towards them as he neared the opposite end of the table. The witness struggled in his bonds but his effort was wasted. Radner had placed the man’s wand in his master’s special cabinet where he could not retrieve it. Even still, any chance of escape was futile with all the Wolves in the room. The man had nowhere to go but where Radner directed him with his wand, which happened to be the other head seat, directly down the table from Antigonus himself.

As he placed the man in the chair, Radner lifted the spell; with another flick of his wand the witness’ gag disappeared. His panic was quite evident as he looked around the table and locked eyes with the Wolfram, finally realizing who he was dealing with. At that moment, the slight hitch in his breath could be heard by every single wolf in the room. It was the most delicious sound that Radner had ever heard.

“Welcome, young man,” said Antigonus, his voice low and feral. His dark beard contrasted with the tanned color of his skin and illuminated his dark, bottomless eyes under the candlelight in the room. “You look quite uncomfortable in those bonds,” he noted, studying the man’s face. “Shall I remove them?”

“You’d t-take—” the man stuttered, “Take them off?” His face paled and he blinked nervously as he gazed at the powerful wolf before him.

The Wolfram nodded slightly, his fingers ghosting over the scruff of his short beard. “It was a simple question, my dear boy. There’s no reason for you to be uncomfortable if we’re going to have a little chat, now is there?” His voice was lower now, but the tone was extremely soothing. “You have nothing to fear. Contrary to popular belief, we are not the vicious creatures that the wizarding world makes us out to be.”

Typically, the man looked skeptical. He stared at the Wolfram for a moment, as if to judge his sincerity, and then finally gave a curt nod with a mutter of, “Alright.”

Wandlessly, the man’s bonds were removed. He appeared quite relieved and tried to settle in his chair a bit, but from Radner’s spot behind him, it was clear that the man was finding relaxing in a room full of Wolves more difficult than he had imagined.

“Wonderful,” said the Wolfram, his tone lighter than before. Radner, who had been staring at his master bit concentrating on his words, was elated to notice the Wolfram give him a quick, pride-filled glance before his attention was turned back to the man. Radner couldn’t have felt more accomplished than in that moment. The jealous looks he was receiving from the likes of Pulcey and Yates, two of the Wolves who had recently managed to fall out of favor with their leader, only intensified his pride, but at the same time reminded him not to take his position for granted. He had always connected very well with the Wolfram, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be in their shoes just as easily. It was a great feeling to know he was trusted.

“Now, young man, I think I shall first ask for your name,” Antigonus stated, looking down the table at the man, his eyes glinting with possibility.

Radner noted, most admirably, that the Wolfram hadn’t used Legilimency to find out the man’s name himself. After all, their intentions were not to torture him. The Master had never enjoyed using that means of extracting information. He did not cause harm if it wasn’t completely necessary; that was something that every wolf knew.

“It’s Liam…Liam Wells,” the man said, somewhat uneasily. Although Radner had not thought it possible, the man looked as though he had become even paler than before.

The Wolfram offered him a quick nod. “I see. Did you, perchance, attend Hogwarts not too many years ago, Liam? I seem to remember a certain Hufflepuff with your name going on to great fame as a journalist for the Daily Prophet…” An amused expression manifested on Antigonus’ face as Liam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You are rather peculiar, Mr. Wells; you find yourself in the company of the most wanted werewolf in history and yet your modesty about your success does not falter. Color me impressed.”

A few murmurs broke out around the table; a few wolves chuckled, others whispered to the person beside them, but despite this, Liam raised his eyebrow in confusion. He seemed to be baffled about the lightheartedness of the gathering.

Picking up on this, the Wolfram let out a low chuckle himself. “Not what you expected from a pack of werewolves?” he asked Liam, who shook his head in response. “Yes, our kind is often misjudged that way. Even werewolves with no connection to me or the activities of this pack are treated like beasts and mutants. Most of the time, people forget they we’re wizards too. All witches and wizards face prejudice, Liam. I’m sure you understand that. In the same way as wizardkind, all we’re trying to achieve is equality for those like us.”

“I just wonder…why me?” Liam asked quietly, seeming to build up a bit of courage. “Why did you bring me here? I can’t help…”

“But you can; that is exactly why I wanted to speak with you, Liam. You were at that Summit; you heard everything they discussed there. All I ask is that you relay to me whatever you heard. You have my word that no harm will come to you, and I think you’ll be quite satisfied with the trade I’m offering for your information.”

“I barely heard anything,” said Liam, his voice quiet but steady. “I was only there for the first half-hour; I don’t think they began discussing anything that would be of importance to you until later on…” He paused, looking around at the Wolves nervously before continuing. “I may not understand what it’s like to be a wolf, but I’m muggle-born, and I know what it’s like not to be accepted. I’m truly sorry, but I can’t help you.”

Antigonus leaned back in his chair, letting a breathy sigh escape his lips. “I believe that you’re sorry,” he stated plainly. Radner stared at his master, wondering what he had up his sleeve next. “You are an honest person, Liam. I can see it in your eyes. However, you’re wrong about what you heard not being important to us. Anything you can tell us about the plans of the Ministry or the Initiative can assist us. Ultimately, it is your choice whether you will divulge the information, but I would like you to remember that I do have the ability to use Legilimemcy to discover it, although I would do so regrettably. That is not the path I want to take.”

Liam looked down at his hands for a very long time. Radner stood patiently behind him, watching the man in silence. It was obvious that Liam was debating his options, as a strained look appeared on his face before he finally spoke, “All I know is that the governments are trying to get organized. They understand that you’ve taken the actions to disorganize them so that you can plan some kind of attack. I think they’re just trying to organize themselves now. That’s really all I know…”

“Thank you, Liam,” said Antigonus. Liam looked somewhat surprised to hear those words from the man before him, but nodded in acceptance. “As I mentioned before, I wish to reward you for your service. There will be a satchel in the cabinet below your kitchen sink when you get home with a few thousand galleons inside. Also, you will see a scarlet marble beside it. That is a portkey that will transport you to this, my Manor, should you ever wish, or need, to visit. Otherwise, you’re free to leave. You may use the Floo over there.”

Radner backed up, allowing Liam space to push back his chair and head to the fire. He looked very confused, apparently expecting something more sinister to happen, but soon realized he was really free to leave and disappeared through the fireplace in a puff of green smoke.

Radner took his place at the end of the table, as it was the only unoccupied seat, and looked to his master, who was grinning back at him devilishly. Antigonus looked very lighthearted as he said, “Good work, as always, Damon.”

“Thank you, sir,” he replied proudly.

“I’m surprised you didn’t kill him,” said the only dissenting voice at the table, who was, ironically, always situated next to the Wolfram. Radner found it hard to ignore Eden Exley most of the time, although he often wished he could. She was neither a wolf, nor any kind of valuable asset to the pack, yet the Wolfram was obviously very attached to her. As her legal guardian it was his duty to care for her, which Radner could understand, and she was their resident potion-maker, but having her at every single gathering seemed unnecessary. What was to stop Eden from going to, say, Jessica Vandenbrooke or the Initiative and telling them everything she knew about Antigonus?

“Isn’t that the usual protocol?” she continued. “I thought you’d at least Obliviate him.”

“You sound disappointed,” said Antigonus, looking at her questioningly.

Eden shook her head, looking disgusted with the situation. She looked down at her hands in silence for a short moment before saying, “I just want to go back to school.”

“Fine; you may leave, then,” the Wolfram stated, rising from his chair at the same moment as his goddaughter. “This meeting is over, but I expect you all here tomorrow at the same time. We have much to discuss.”

------------------------------------------

OOC: Okay, the ending of mine was rushed too. And sorry it’s all in Radner’s perspective but I thought that would give a nice outside view of the events. I just realized that I left Jack out of the events too, but perhaps he was still not back from the Summit? Anyway, I hope that was alright, feel free to tell me if I messed up anywhere. >.>

The Richardson was a smartly furnished little bar on the corner of 26th and Orange Avenue, deep in the part of town where a wizard would look incredibly out of place. It was here that Jack Crosslin and Sam Keller decided to have their meeting.

With Jack as the controversial Chief-of-State, and Sam being the Keeper of the country's lucrative and successful Quidditch team, the pair knew that they would have to exercise extensive caution when meeting. All the muggle bartender saw were two middle-aged friends having a drink--but a wizard would have seen the setup for an extremely bad joke--

"Right so the President walks into a bar and sees Sam Keller from the Eagles, and orders a round--"[i]

Jack was on his third beer already, while Sam was still nursing his lukewarm first.

"Damn, Jack, but you can still down a few!" Sam grunted.

Jack laughed hollowly, "Grant me this one vice, Sam. I've got a lot on my plate to deal with at the moment, aye?"

"Fair enough, but when you splinch your leg off trying to apparate your drunk self outta here, don't come crying to me!"

"Glad to know I can count on you."

"Oh, 'course."

In the warm bar, the only sounds were a combined muddle of conversation and the TV announcer above their heads. It was a clean and well-lit place. There was no skulking or cloak and daggers here. The mood between the two old friends was light, but was liable to swoop downwards in a single second. It seemed almost unsightly and disrespectful to start talking business in such a place, but it was inevitable.

Sam finally finished his beer, and did not order another one at once. He set the glass down on the bar with a note of finality, and looked over at his old friend.

"The kid is scared to death, Jack." Sam began, reluctantly.

"Which one?" Jack kept his voice determinately even.

"Jacob." Sam was thoroughly inspecting his fingernails as he continued, "I had to mollycoddle him for a good long while before I could get him to the Summit yesterday. After the call he made with Cunningham's brother, he's really starting to doubt himself."

"The question is, do you doubt him too?" Jack asked a bit sharply.

"No, not anymore," Sam answered truthfully, "Alright, I'll admit that when you left him in charge of the Op, I was surprised. You saw something in him that I sure didn't. Once the ball got rollin on Operation Dragonfly, though, I thought I saw the spark in him that caught your attention. He's a good kid. Sometimes I wonder what midwest rock you pulled him out under. He'll make a great leader when this is all over

"I heard that he cleared up a rat problem that we've been having..."

"Jake?" Sam had to stifle a laugh, and the mood lightened instantly "He gave it to Jay Smithson, I'll tell you what. Jake and I caught him sneaking around outside the alley behind the Marriot while wizards were apparting out. He was sniveling on about how we could work something out, maybe cut a deal--Jake wasn't having any of it. Silenced him with a forearm across the neck, pressed against the brick wall. I didn't hear what threats were breathed, but Jay apparated away without his camera or his dignity. Oh, there'll be hell to pay for it, we know..."

"Jay has friends in high places, its why we haven't dared touch him before."

"Jake shouted something about how he deals with Dark Wizards and Wolves every day, and that Jay didn't scare him a bit," Sam found this all amusing, "We've been watching the West and East coast papers, not a whisper of anything. The way I see it, Jay is still blown completely out of the water that we dared take action against him."

Jack smiled at this notion, "When i was in office, I can't tell you how often I've wanted to do what Jake did."

The two lapsed into thoughtful silence, again, after this exchange. Jack was the first one to break it.

"He made the right decision with the brother, you know."

"I know it, and he knows it." The atmosphere of the conversation became somber again. Sam chewed his bottom lip, knowing he had to say what needed to be said, "See, Jack...going back to what i said before...Jake isn't doubting what he did. He's starting to doubt why he did it."

"Ahh..." The knowing came to Jack in a flood of grim understanding, "He's worried that he's becoming like me..."

Sam made no move to deny this claim.

"He talked to me after the Summit, before bustling off to Washington," Jack continued on, looking at the empty glasses in front of him, "He was as formal as ever, but I could tell he doesn't trust me anymore."

The silence now was almost painful.

"Let me ask you something, Sam. Do you still trust me?"

Sam did not flinch, "I hope to God that I still can, Jack. If we lose you, we've lost this entire war."

Jack now had the glass in his hands, and was examining it even closer, "The others in the unit don't need to trust me--all they have to do is follow orders. But you, Sam, you and I have been friends for too long for me to just let this go."

"I understand, Jacky-o. Believe me."

"I've lost my daughter's confidence, I know that much." Jack stopped fiddling with the glass for a moment, "...When she looks at me, all she can see is a monster."

"She's another scared kid that I should mention."

"Don't I know it."

"Jessica isn't one of your agents, Jack."

"A bit late for that sort of talk, don't you think?"

"This business with Cunningham's brother is making me rethink all of this..."

"If you have another plan, Sam, please, speak up."

He didn't.

"She loved Race, Jack."

"DAMMIT, Sam, Race is still alive!" Jack bit off suddenly, slamming the glass down on the bar with a THUMP, "Why do you all insist on implying that the boy is lost to you forever? Becoming a Wolf isn't the end of the world! I managed to do it, and I'm doing just fine! Besides, I was careful not to leave any lasting injuries on him! He is recovering quite nicely, for God's sake!"

"You bit him?" Sam whispered, looking stunned.

Jack paused, "You--You didn't--"

"Damn, Jack..." Sam drawled slowly, his expressions hardening, "If Britain had known THAT little detail..."

"I had to do it!" Jack felt cornered, which was ridiculous, considering what a man of power he was, "Sam, you understand--"

"I do understand...." Sam shook his head, "Which scares me. DAMN, Jack. When the time comes, you'd better take this Antigonus guy down, and you'd better take him down HARD!"

Jack looked down at his hands, which were trembling. He could not look Sam in the eye, did not want his oldest friend to see the yellow slits where the blue used to be. He gave a hollow laugh.

"I'll try, Sam. I'm sorry, I lost my temper. Maybe this is getting to me more than I thought?"

"Well, no one expected you to come out of this singing," Sam muttered, ordering another round with a wave of his hand.

Another pause--

"She really did love him..." Jack gave that selfsame grim, hollow chuckle, "My dear Jessica...maybe she was better off with her mother. I'm certainly not the father of the year..."

"You're in good qualifying standing for 'man-of-the-year', though," Sam offered unhelpfully, as the bartender slid another two beers down to the pair, "Especially if you can overthrow this sonofabitch."

"Aye..."

"I suppose this is going to be the last time I'll be able to talk to you face-to-face for a while," Sam took a long draught of his fresh drink, "We go back to our corners tomorrow, eh?"

"We're on the same team, Sam." Jack reminded him.

"Right," Sam raised his glass for a toast, "...but not on the same side."

Chink.



OOC: I liked that post, just for the tense dialogue...also, I wanted to give a feel for Sam (who I've hinted is older and a mentor figure to Jake Grose, so i wanted to synch it) and Jack. Not a lot happening plotwise, but still it gives us an eye into our heroes.

ALSO I've noticed that I've got a 'Jake' and a 'Jack' running around, which can sometimes be hard to differentiate. Therefore, when Jack talks I try to have him refer to Jake as 'Jacob.' Basically I'm trying to call Jake 'Jacob' more often so that its not so confusing!

The Manor was silent. All the inhabiting wolves were still asleep in their chambers, as it was such an early hour that the sun had not yet risen. However, Antigonus’ sleep had been anything but restful. He had cleaned up early and headed to the dining room, where he stood before the large windows, staring out at the dark grounds of his home.

There was something about the Manor when it was so quiet that evoked deep, mournful thoughts within the Wolfram. He could never leave this place, for the walls told the story of his life, and most heartbreakingly, they were the only thing to remind him of his wife, Fiona. Often times he tried not to dwell on memories of her, for they could only bring sadness, but evading such memories was difficult when she too had lived inside the Manor. In the beginning, she had been even more instrumental in setting the groundwork for their cause than Antigonus himself; back then, her spirit had been irrepressible, and the joy that she brought to the most feared werewolf in the world was immeasurable.

However, since her death, Antigonus was left with nothing more than shattered memories and an aching sense of cold within heart that threatened to swallow him whole. The only thing that gave him any sense of joy these days were his wolves and the work that they as an organization were trying to accomplish for their kind.

Yet, their efforts were not going as planned. The Initiative was always in their way, claiming that the Wolves were nothing more than the cruel, inhumane murderers that Voldemort’s Death Eaters had been all those years ago. To anyone who knew the Wolves, that statement would have been something to scoff at. However, the wizarding world certainly did not know Antigonus or his pack; they cowered in fear of the great power he was rumored to have.

It was the Daily Prophet that had built him up to be a villain; no one cared to see a different side because no one understood that the Wolves’ motives were not to torture and kill those who opposed them, but to gain support for their cause. Of course, violence was necessary on occasion (or as the Wolfram saw it, to keep the machine well-oiled and running), but employing it was usually a last resort. The Wolves were not the Death Eaters by far, but getting that message out to the public was a very difficult task, especially when everyone was determined to prove that Antigonus was the evil werewolf that he seemed.

“Sir,” said a familiar voice near the doorway.

Turning around, Antigonus was pleased to see Damon Radner enter the dining room, but the girl whose arm he gripped as he pulled her along behind him was a very unexpected visitor.

“Damon, what is my goddaughter doing here?” the Wolfram asked, studying the struggling form of Eden Exley. Despite the early hour, she was dressed in her school attire (minus her robe), and an ancient-looking book was clasped under her free arm.

Radner kept his grip firm. “I had just left my room and was heading down the stairs to check on Noah, sir, when I took the shortcut through the library. Well, I saw a shadow move between the shelves and knew it wasn’t one of the wolves, so I Stupefied the person, only to find out it was Eden using the Disillusionment Charm.”

Antigonus stared at his goddaughter, eyeing the book in her hands. “Did she get that from our library?” he asked Radner, his voice tense.

“She says it’s from the Restricted Section at the Hogwarts library, sir. But there is something about it that you should know.”

“I’m not saying anything,” Eden spat, her tone venomous. She strained against Radner’s grip as she glared at her guardian through narrowed eyes. However, a few moments later she seemed to rethink her actions and calmed down significantly. “It’s nothing,” she said brusquely, “I just needed it for some school research, that’s all.”

The Wolfram shook his head, a sly smile on his features. “You’re a terrible liar, my dear. Why would you have taken this from the Restricted Section and then come snooping around my library for a simple school project? If you had to use a Disillusionment Charm not to be seen, you obviously didn’t want me to be aware of your presence here.”

“You don’t understand! I can’t say a word about this…”

“It’s too late for pleas, Eden. You were careless enough to be caught, so you will now pay the price.” The Wolfram stepped closer to her, taking the book from under her arm. “Tell me, what is so secret that you cannot tell your godfather?” The leather cover was quite dusty and worn, but the title Witch Covens of Britain could be made out on the spine.

“It doesn’t matter if you look at it,” Eden exclaimed. “You can read the whole thing if you like, but you still won’t have a clue what I was doing with it.”

Radner managed to still Eden as Antigonus took another step closer, looking into his goddaughter’s eyes. “Why is it that you never cooperate with me, my dear? Can this really be so terrible that you’d have me resort to Legilimency to extract it from you?”

“You’ll use it to gain a leg-up on the Initiative…I can’t let you do it!”

That peaked the Wolfram’s interest; he studied the book in his hands, but kept it closed, determined to have Eden tell him what information she had discovered within its pages. It was a shame that he would have to use Legilimemcy, for he rarely enjoyed penetrating the minds of others. If only Eden would understand that his mission was not an evil one, and that she needn’t feel guilty for helping their cause.

“If there is no other way,” Antigonus said quietly, pulling his wand from his robes. “Hold her still, Damon. I’ll try and make this as quick as possible.” A stoic look came over Eden’s face just before he called out, “Legilimens!”

The Wolfram was thrust into Eden’s mind, and he set to work finding her memories of the book. However, without being able to deviate from it, he found himself immersed in a memory of he, Eden, and Jasper when the two Exleys were children. It was one of the many times that he had taken them outside to play on the grounds. Images of himself laughing and holding the young Eden in his arms swamped his mind before he was abruptly ejected from the reminiscence.

As he opened his eyes back in the dining room, Eden was slumped in Radner’s arms as the wolf struggled to keep her from falling to the floor. Antigonus felt drained as well, realizing that Eden’s powers at Occlumency were greater than he had anticipated. She had purposely shown him that memory, perhaps to soften him up or remind him how much he cared about her.

“Eden…” he said quietly, though there was no response. She was breathing heavily, which worried the Wolfram. He stepped closer to Radner, taking his goddaughter from him and setting her down on the nearest couch.

“How could you?” she asked in a small voice, looking down at her hands.

“It wasn’t my first option. Listen to me Eden; we have to compromise on certain things or we’ll never get through all of this. You know that I care about you.”

She looked up at him, her eyes blazing with fury. “Then don’t treat me like one of your anonymous henchmen! I said that I didn’t want to tell you. If you really care about me, shouldn’t you respect that?” Her hands balled up into fists on her lap as she stared at him angrily.

“I care about you; don’t ever doubt that for a second,” Antognus stated firmly, his eyes unyielding. “However, you realize that without certain advantages we will not win this battle. We need all the help we can get, my dear, and if you have discovered something that will aid us in any way, I insist that you share it with me.”

Eden’s eyes filled with guilt. Quickly, she turned away, looking out the window solemnly. Her long hair was frazzled from the encounter with Radner, but she looked as though she had given up. Antigonus had never seen that expression on her face before, and he wasn’t fond of it either.

“I was in the library the other day,” Eden began, her voice very quiet, “And I was looking through some books in the Restricted Section when I came across that one.” She picked the book up off the floor, placing it in her lap. “It contains documentation of some of the most powerful magical covens in Britain. I didn’t really believe half of the things at first, aside from the fact that covens of powerful sorcery do exist, but I finally came across this page—” she flipped the book open, rifling through pages “—and I knew that this particular Coven was real. They’re referred to as the Vilkas Coven, which is Lithuanian for ‘The Wolf Coven’. It says here that they have resided just outside of London for centuries.”

“A coven of Wolves…” said the Wolfram, his eyes alight with possibility. “If they practice advanced sorcery, plus have all the abilities of werewolves, they must have great power. I can’t understand how a Coven such as that has gone unnoticed.”

“Perhaps they’ve stayed in hiding all these years,” Radner chimed in. “Otherwise, their solitude would be gone. The Daily Prophet would be all over them.”

Antigonus nodded, pondering the information. “If they’ve been in hiding all this time, how would they have been documented in this book?”

“This was written a long time ago. They probably had no need to hide back then,” Eden stated, running her hand over the ancient parchment. She looked up at her godfather, studying his excited expression. Her face sank. “Are you happy now?” she asked bitterly, snapping the book shut and rising from her place on the couch.

“Eden, please…” Antigonus called after her as she headed for the fire. “You’ve helped us more than you know!”

She opened the Portal, but turned back just before stepping through. “That’s the issue.”

OOC: Before I start posting blindly, where do you think we should go from here?