'Move you dogs, get in formation,' screamed one of Greyback's lieutenants, baring his fangs at the younger werewolves as they were herded towards the main chamber of the cave complex that was Greyback's domain. Some bared their fangs back, but most simply complied, not wishing to feel the silver whip tonight. The night was deceivingly peaceful, although the animals of the forest had hid in their lairs, their instincts warning them.
Fenrir Greyback mused on their situation as he saw his pack gather-ragged all of them, dressed in filthy robes that they made themselves. All of that was about to change, as Greyback would take the steps required to change their destiny. Seeing his lieutenants having herded all the strike team members into position, Greyback climbed a stone boulder, which had been roughly hewn into a speaker dais, ready to address his followers.
'Brothers in arms, tonight we strike back at those who have oppressed us for so long. We shall show them no mercy, we shall let them feel our power. We are a force in this world and those pitiful wizards cannot hope to stop us. Follow your Beta's orders and we will all make it out alive and victorious.' He had to pause at this point as screams and howls covered his voice. The werewolves had been stirred. 'You know what you have to do,' said Fenrir, looking with pride at his wolves. 'Leave none alive.'
A howl could be heard from the outside, which drove the werewolves to frenzy. Shouting in half human-half wolfish tongues they ran out towards the cave exit, feeling the bloodlust and desire to maim and kill. Greyback himself was joined by his assigned guards, the strongest of his pack and Disapparated towards his target. He had chosen the hardest one of them for himself, as was proper for a leader.
Edgar Bones sighed in content as he Apparated towards his home. Looking with pride at the tall gates decorated with matching badgers, he opened them with a flick of his wand and made his way across the small courtyard to the small home he shared with his wife. The house had been in the Bones family for three hundred years, and although it was not as sumptuous as some of the older pureblood manors, it was his home.
With the Commons' elections coming up in three months it had been a hectic day. His campaign manager had ensured him that he was the only one who could win Essex. There were very few purebloods that lived in the area, and it had been a Novus Veneficus constituency for the past 50 years. The Nobilitas candidate this year was a no name, fresh out of school. According to the agreement between the Aliquanta and his own party, there was no candidate for Essex from the Aliquanta.
Despite all the assurances he had received that he had practically won the election already, Edgar Bones was not a man to rest on his laurels. He still made his rounds, visiting his electors, finding out about their problems, trying his best to push legislation that would stave off the effects of the financial collapse of the Republic. His people did not live as well as the Witches and Wizards of the richer Dominions such as Wiltshire and Ravensden, but they were better off than others.
Clearing his mind of the problems of the day, and putting a smile on his face to greet his young wife, Edgar entered his house, taking off his cloak and handing it to their trusty family elf.
'Where is the Mistress?'
'She has gone out to buy a birthday present for young Mistress Amelia.' Edgar smiled. His much younger sister, who was currently in her Sixth year at Hogwarts, had been his charge since their parents had died. Old Harold Bones had been an elderly wizard and he and his wife had died of dragon pox when Amelia was just starting Hogwarts. Edgar was then the Assistant to the Commons Candidate, with a meagre salary of three hundred galleons, but he still took in his younger sister and helped her through school. They led a hard life the first few years, but when the Member of the Commons had been promoted to work in the Ministry he had been assigned to lead their Dominion. Since then, things had gone better, and with little Amelia growing up Edgar had taken a wife. He had no children of his own, and he doted on his sister. His wife adored her as well. In short, the Bones were a happy family.
Fenrir had snuck onto the property, dispatching his escort to help the other teams. His superior sense of smell had alerted him when Edgar had Apparated, then he proceeded to watch as he entered his house. He could have attacked him right then, but the Lord's orders were clear. They were to be attacked in Werewolf form, as the attack was to be a mark of Werewolf power. As such, Fenrir sat down on a damp patch of grass, concealed by a bush, waiting for the full moon to rise, rubbing his hands gleefully.
The time was near, he could feel it. The sensation of your ribcage being ripped to shreds, your muscles seeming to stretch beyond breaking point. The teeth elongating, his jaw deforming. Oh the power, the sensation of utter freedom. What could mere humans understand? Suddenly a cloud moved, carried by a slight breeze and revealed the pearly perfection the werewolves worshipped. Suddenly, the pain he felt increased a tenth fold, his transformation sped up by their goddess. Where once stood a shabby looking wizard, now stood a tall werewolf, his grey fur looking healthier than his human skin would ever look. Raising his snout towards the Goddess he howled his respect and adoration, then his simple mind remembered the prompt he had drilled into his head before. 'Kill Bones! Kill Bones! Kill Bones!' he had repeated just before the transformation, concentrating on the young wizard's figure, so the wolf would understand.
Suddenly the gate opened to allow a bland looking young woman in, carrying a large wrapped present. The werewolf stopped in his tracks, trying to remember if Edgar Bones was in the category of family included. His bloodlust taking over his rational mind he roared, dropping on four legs and rushing towards the young witch.
Edgar Bones heard the gate open, and was preparing to go open the door and help his wife with her shopping, when he heard said wife scream. Paralyzed with fear, he grabbed his wand and rushed towards the front yard. The scene that greeted him seemed ripped out of hell. His beloved wife was attacked by a large, monstrous looking werewolf. Edgar screamed as the animal used his large fangs to rip her throat, seeing the life leave her coffee brown orbs.
Although a politician, Edgar had been trained by Dumbledore himself. Regaining his wits, desiring only revenge he rushed forward.
'Stupefy!' The spell seemed to gain the werewolf's attention, as the beast turned its bloody snout from devouring his wife towards him. The stunner collided with the animal, which merely shook its head, starting to run towards Edgar.
'Inferno!' Fire erupted from his wand, a large fireball enveloping the werewolf. The smell of burnt hair permeated through the air, but once Edgar let the spell go, he saw that the fur was merely singed, and the animal was now running at all speed towards him, enraged.
'Zenkirolo!' Using the most powerful offensive curse he knew, Edgar rotated his wand, guiding the silver shards that materialized towards the werewolf. That seemed to have some effect as the beast yelped in pain as the holy metal broke through his thick hide, embedding itself into its flesh.
However, Edgar was no fighter and the Werewolf had reached his position. The spell had been used too late as the beast ripped off the arm that was used to hurt him. Edgar tried to fight back, but the strength of a human was a trifle compared to the unnatural one of a werewolf. His last thoughts went towards his little sister who would be left in the care of his elder brother. Content to join his wife in the Halls of Olympus, Edgar closed his eyes as the animal ripped his throat, extinguishing the life of Edgar Bones, Commons Representative for Essex.
Howling in feral joy, Greyback proceeded to devour flesh from the two Bones, then made his way happily towards the caves that were his lair, running under the night sky. The night had been good for the pack, and he awaited the reports of his wolves.
The Bones family elf had heard the noise outside, but was too terrified to come out. Now that the noise had quieted down, he stuck his head, peering outside. Upon seeing the deformed cadavers of his Master and Mistress, the elf began to cry. He was a bad elf, not capable of serving his Master. He should have overcome his fear and defended his Master. Crying, he tried his best to arrange their remains into something resembling a Wizard, putting their wands into their hands, folded across their chests, then went inside the house. Someone needed to be announced of the attack and young Amelia needed to be taken care of.
The same scene repeated across many households across Magical Britain. Crying families, mutilated half eaten corpses, grim faced Aurors and annoying reporters taking pictures despite warnings to respect the grieving families.
'These reporters have no decency,' spat Rufus Scrimgeour, talking with his Auror partner.
'Are you surprised?' asked his partner, 'Who could have done such a thing?'
'Isn't it clear, Alastor, it was a Werewolf attack?' replied Scrimgeour, looking at the corpse of the Bones couple.
'A werewolf attack?' said Alastor Moody, 'Three hundred dead in a Werewolf attack in one night. I don't believe it, there is something larger going on here.'
'Perhaps, but our hands are tied. We must await orders from the Minister,' replied Rufus, before signalling the Aurors to break the crowd of reporters.
The Aurors, dressed in their red robes, proceeded to draw their wands and move towards the reporters. Understanding that their time on the Bones property was limited, the reporters snapped a few more photographs and Disapparated before the first Auror could launch a banishing charm.
Abraxas Malfoy was furious at the attack. The filthy half breeds had struck at proper wizards and witches. Deciding the matter to be a serious emergency, he had called his friend Cygnus and Lord Lestrange for a private meeting in his study at Wiltshire. The House of Lords Triumvirate, as they were dubbed by the press controlled the House of Lords. Their private talks had the power to move mountains, but for now their hands were tied. Dobby had allowed Lord Lestrange and Lord Black into the study, taking their cloaks and returning with tea and biscuits. Thankfully for his life, he had not dropped anything or made any inappropriate remarks. Otherwise, his master's fury would have proved deadly for the elf.
'This is terrible,' said Lord Lestrange, looking at the report produced by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, 'especially so close to election season.'
'Election season, Dimitry?' snapped Abraxas 'almost two hundred witches and wizards dead and you speak of election season!'
'Friends, this is not a time to argue amongst ourselves,' said Cygnus, attempting to diffuse the situation. 'We need to establish a strategy; we need to strike back at the Werewolves.'
'What do you propose?' asked Abraxas 'that we gather our house guards and go kill every Werewolf we see?'
'That does not sound like a bad idea, actually,' said Dimitry 'it would show the public that we are doing something.'
'This was an organised action, mark my words,' said Abraxas, 'this is deeper than a mere Werewolf attack.'
'What is strange is that the half-breeds had never acted so organised before,' mused Cygnus, looking over the reports of the dead. 'There must be some pattern for the attack.'
'There is no pattern, friends,' said Dimitry, 'since when had the beasts thought like Wizards?'
'Perhaps there is a shadow movement that coordinates them,' added Cygnus, 'the beasts could not have even discovered the addresses of all the dead.'
'What is the Minister going to do about this?' asked Abraxas 'Have any of you spoken to her since the attack?'
'Milicent Bagnold is incapable of doing anything,' replied Dimitry, 'my sources in the Ministry tell me she practically begged Bartemius Crouch to take care of the matter.'
'All right then, what is he going to do about this?' drawled Abraxas. 'At least make an arrest?'
'He said he is thinking about it,' said Cygnus, 'he has recalled all the Aurors. He even dismantled the peace keeping mission in Bulgaria. All the Ministry's forces are gathering.'
'His hands are tied, though,' replied Dimitry, 'several prominent Ministry members have requested Auror escorts for their families and themselves.'
'And Milicent has approved them,' replied Cygnus, 'she needs their support now more than ever.'
'She needs our support now more than ever,' said Abraxas, finally putting down the reports, 'if she is not capable of action she will be impeached.'
'Let us not be rash,' said Cygnus, 'I have spoken to a friend of mine who is good at finding information. He is the one who warned us about Lord Voldemort. He will get to the bottom of this, I am sure.'
'Cygnus is right Abraxas,' said Dimitry, 'if we withdraw our support from the Ministry, the population will be out for her blood. It could propel Lord Potter into the position.'
'The population does not decide who is Minister,' said Abraxas, 'the House of Lords decides that.'
'Do not underestimate the plebs, Abraxas,' said Cygnus, 'if they start calling out for change it could have repercussions afterwards. Plus some members of the Nobilitas themselves might wish to get more standing by siding with the popular movement.'
'This is a time for unity, not discord,' said Dimitry, 'we should meet with the Minister, Lord Potter and Lord Macmillan to establish a strategy.'
'I can understand the Minister and Lord Macmillan, since we need the Aliquanta support, but Lord Potter?' asked Cygnus, looking as if he'd rather eat a dead thestral than be in the same room as Richard Potter.
'The man is a lunatic,' added Abraxas, 'he would have all our fortunes confiscated and distributed to mudbloods.'
'He is not that revolutionary, no matter how hard you try to paint him so,' said Dimitry, trying to defend his idea. 'What about Dumbledore, the man must have some idea about what happened.'
'That I refuse,' drawled Abraxas, 'Dumbledore is part of the reason we have to fight so hard to preserve our way of life. I will never consider an alliance with Dumbledore even if it brings the ruin of my House.'
'Very well, then, I shall send a message to the Minister, Lord Macmillan and Lord Potter, to set up a meeting before the House sits for session tomorrow,' said Cynus. 'Now I must go, Druella is quite beside herself since the attacks, and I promised to be home for lunch.'
'I should go as well, I have business to attend to,' said Lord Lestrange, standing up, 'See you gentlemen tomorrow.'
Abraxas was left alone in his sumptuous study, a situation he found himself in a great many times since Lucius had moved to the townhouse. His solitude was interrupted by Dobby the house elf.
'Will the master be needing anything else?' inquired the elf, fumbling with his tea cosy.
'No, Dobby, you may leave,' said Abraxas, before changing his mind, 'Wait, firecall Domitian in Romania, I have business with him. And tell the driver to ready my carriage and harness the Pegasi.'
Dobby proceeded to place the international floo call, speaking with the assistant of Domitian, telling him his master required to speak with his master. Shortly, the aquiline face of Abraxas' friend appeared in the dancing flames.
'Abraxas, mais ca est une bonne surprise,' said Domitian, 'ca va?'
'Oui, ca va, et toi?' replied Abraxas, adopting the same speech his friend liked to use on formal occasions. 'It has occurred to me that we have not seen each other in quite some time. Are you in the mood for a visit?'
'From you, mon ami, anytime,' replied Domitian, 'Will you be coming over for a visit?'
'Certainly, I have the carriage ready,' said Abraxas.
'Excellent, I shall tell the servants to break out a cask of my finest wine for the occasion,' replied Domitian. 'I await your visit; have a pleasant journey.'
Abraxas changed from his house robes into state robes, grabbed his cloak and cane, thanking the house elf, exited his house and made for the carriage. A servant waited respectfully holding the door open. Once Abraxas got in the servant closed the door behind him, then climbing onto the driver's seat whipped the Pegasi. The winged horses spread their wings, beating them powerfully, galloping at the same time down the alley. Several moments later the carriage took flight, the servant driving the horses faster, towards Romania. Abraxas relaxed in the soft pillows in the back, musing about the meeting he was about to have.
Several hours later, the Pegasi nearly spent, the Carpathian Mountains could be seen, and the driver, who had taken this journey numerous times, drove the horses towards Domitian's sprawling estate in the mountains. A tall castle could be seen, built with beige limestone, with dragons acting as gargoyles. The carriage put down next to a fountain with two dragons, their wings outstretched, shooting water from their mouths.
A livered servant, bearing Domitian's Dragon mark embroidered on his robes, opened the door, while the Master of the Castle waited near the tall doors to greet his friend.
'Old friend, it has been a while,' said Domitian, extending his hands in friendship.
'Indeed it has,' replied Abraxas, taking Domitian's hand. 'I had a day to myself and decided to visit you; since as you say it has been a while.'
'Will you stay for dinner?' asked Domitian, gesturing for his servants to take care of the carriage.
'If it is not too much of a bother,' replied Abraxas.
'Nonsense, since Emilia has started her tour of Europe I have been left all by myself,' replied Domitian, 'well myself and the dragons. But as you imagine they are not much for conversation.'
'That they aren't,' laughed Abraxas, following his friend indoors of the massive castle.
Domitian guided him towards a small salon, used by his family for private meetings with close friends, cosy without losing any of its elegance or opulence. Another servant brought the famous bottle of Black Maiden that Domitian had advertised then retreated to leave the two their privacy.
'This is the fabled wine you were telling me about?' asked Abraxas, taking the offered glass.
'Trust me, such wine is fit for the gods themselves to drink,' laughed Domitian, 'it is grown on the estates of a friend of mine, south east of here.'
'Decent palate,' replied Abraxas after tasting the wine.
'I hear you've had some trouble up in England lately,' said Domitian, 'with some werewolves I've heard.'
'Yes there has been an attack, we don't know much about it yet,' replied Abraxas, the thought making him uncomfortable.
'Did you lose anyone?' asked Domitian candidly.
'No, thankfully,' replied Abraxas, the death list flashing in front of his eyes. 'Not that there are many I still have.'
'And how is Lucius?' asked Domitian 'he is in his seventh year isn't he?'
'Yes,' said Abraxas, 'He is about to finish Hogwarts. I don't see him much anymore, he has moved in the townhouse over the summer.'
'Granted I don't follow much of politics anymore, but I've heard the British Aurors were recalled from Bulgaria,' said Domitian, trying to change the uncomfortable subject, 'our own government has sent several Riders to try to calm things in Bulgaria.'
'Is the fighting still going on?' asked Abraxas.
'The fighting has died down,' said Domitian, 'there is a national unity government, but the factions still draw wands whenever they can. An unstable Bulgaria bodes ill for the region. Romania will step in where Britain left. Or so the Rider's Council has decided. I don't bother myself with politics that much nowadays.'
'You're mocking me, right?' replied Abraxas, 'they used to come and ask you anything from foreign policy to the colour of the Riders robes.'
Domitian laughed with a nostalgic smile on his face. 'Those were good times, I give you that. Still you should try stepping away from politics for a while. It does wonders for your lifespan.'
'I wish I could,' replied Abraxas, 'but there is too much at stake. And with the financial trouble recently. No, I am afraid I still have many years to look forward to in the House. That is until Lucius picks up the reins. He is too young though, still filled with illusions of grandeur and adventure. He needs to trudge through the Commons a few years, to open his eyes to the cold hard reality.'
'Well enough of that,' said Domitian, 'come let me show you what I have recently received…'
Abraxas returned back at Wiltshire later than he had previously intended. He had sorely missed a time when his afternoons were different from politics or business. Still, as he entered the vast manor, he dropped his cloak and cane for the elf to take, ordered it to wake him up early for the meeting and went straight to bed.
The cheery sunny morning did not seem suited to the graveness of the matter, as the Lords of Britain made their way up the steps to the Palace of the Lords and Commons. Their faces were grim and hardened, some having even brought escorts. The number of Aurors present had doubled, the ceremonial guards looking suspicious at anyone who was not dressed in State Robes. As a security measure, normally clothed Aurors were dispersed throughout the crowd, attentive and ready to strike at anyone who did not seem to belong.
Lord Malfoy Apparated in front of the Palace, without guards, scoffing at those who believed that the werewolves would dare to attack in broad daylight. He almost wished the beasts would dare to attack, so he could show them what a proper wizard was capable of. People seemed to naturally gravitate towards him, and as such he had gathered quite a crowd of followers by the time he had reached the tall doors. The two Aurors on guard bowed respectfully and opened the tall doors for one of the most powerful wizards in the nation. Indeed, if the Minister of Magic was the first person in the state, in order of precedence, the three triumvirs would be second. Behind the scenes, the situation was different, with the current Minister a mere puppet of the political games played by the ever warring Houses of Commons and Lords. The situation worked flawlessly during times of peace, with the Aliquanta candidates capable to greet foreign dignitaries and smile for the photographers during state functions. During times of crisis, a strong hand was required, however, and its lack was evident in the confusion and fear that seemed to have gripped the magical world.
The House would not sit for session for another hour, and the Lords of the realm had gone to their clubs for the morning, to discuss, make deals, threaten and cajole to gain influence and standing. No such morning for the leaders, however, as Abraxas' office in the Palace was filled with dignitaries. Minister of Magic Millicent Bagnold, together with her shifty Senior Undersecretary, Cornelius Fudge, Lord Macmillan, Lord Potter, and the three triumvirs, Lords Malfoy, Lestrange and Black occupied the large office, seated around a conference table that adjoined the main office.
'Dear colleagues,' started Abraxas, voice dripping with sarcasm as he stared at Richard Potter, 'we are gathered here today to discuss the recent crisis, as you are all aware. Minister, what steps are being taken to apprehend the beasts?'
'Lord Malfoy,' started Millicent, 'we don't even know where to start. This attack is completely unprecedented. We don't even know where to start looking for them.'
'Doesn't the Ministry hold a record of existing werewolves?' snapped Cygnus.
'We do, but not all of them register,' replied Millicent.
'Well the steps to take are clear,' drawled Dimitry Lestrange, 'send out Aurors and arrest all known werewolves. After we have rounded up the beasts we can interrogate them to find out who was responsible and deal adequate punishment.'
'That I disagree with,' started Richard Potter, 'granted, the werewolves are not proper wizards, but you can't simply arrest all of them for a crime some of them have committed.' The atmosphere in the room tensed as the triumvirs sported looks of disgust at Potter's lack of spine for action. Abraxas seemed ready to rebut his point of view, but Lord Macmillan stepped in.
'Richard, we can't wear gloves with this situation,' said Lord Macmillan, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, 'I am afraid that Lord Lestrange is correct.'
'I will not stand to let this nation become an Auror State, where arrests are made for no reason then to appease the public,' said Richard Potter.
'Perhaps Lord Potter has a better plan, then,' said Abraxas.
'No, Lord Malfoy, I am afraid I am fresh out of ideas in this case,' conceded Richard, 'but if we antagonize them further such incidents may be repeated.'
'Then we are in accord,' said Cygnus, 'Minister we must take action.'
'I, I don't know,' said Millicent Bagnold, 'we would need to grant additional powers to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to conduct arrests.'
'That could be done easily,' said Abraxas, looking towards Cornelius Fudge, 'Cornelius, draft a resolution quickly, and the House can adopt it in today's session.'
'You forget one thing Lord Malfoy,' intervened Richard Potter, 'it is not the place of the House of Lords to dictate policy. The House of Commons must approve any local affairs before they are passed onto the House of Lords for ratification.'
'I forget nothing, Lord Potter,' replied Abraxas, smiling slightly, 'this is not a local affair. The unregistered werewolves that probably conducted this attack are not a part of our nation. As such, this has become an external threat. To quote from the Seven Tablets, '
'Just because they are not registered, doesn't mean they are not citizens,' snapped Richard Potter.
'It means exactly that,' replied Cygnus in support of his friend, 'not only are they committing a crime for not registering, but they have also conducted an unprovoked attack on Magical Britain. We must return the favour and wipe them out.'
'Wipe them out?' said Potter, not believing the way the discussion was heading to, 'the penalty for murder is a lifetime sentence in Azkaban, not execution.'
'True, but this is not murder, this is an act of war,' replied Dimitry, picking up the cue, 'and in war, there are deaths.'
'You are twisting the facts to your advantage Lord Lestrange,' said Richard, 'the House of Commons will not stand for this.'
'It doesn't need to, it is the House of Lords who handles external affairs,' said Abraxas, 'I thought we had already agreed on that point.'
The calm discussion soon degenerated into a fight, with tones beginning to be raised between Lord Potter and the triumvirs. Lord Macmillan remained silent, considering the matter. He could see the reason in both the offers, but he could not decide which was the best course of action. The Minister appeared lost, but Cornelius Fudge held a feral glance. Cornelius, although young was said to be supremely ambitious and a man for whom the end justified the means. He had climbed to the position of Senior Undersecretary by backstabbing those in his own party, through threats and blackmail. Some saw him as an opportunist, while others catalogued him as a rising star.
'Minister, in the end this is an executive decision,' drawled Abraxas, 'it is up to you to decide what course of action must be taken. What say you?'
'I don't know,' replied Millicent, staring into the distance, 'I don't know what to do.'
'Minister, if you are incapable of handling the situation, tell us,' said Cygnus, 'so that we may dismiss you and call for another to stand in your place.' The audience looked shocked, the Minister most out of all of them, the reality of the feebleness of her position dawning at last. It was the moment Fudge chose to intervene.
'Minister, Lord Malfoy is right. Action must be taken!'
'You too, Cornelius?' asked Millicent. Cornelius did not even have the decency to look abashed at the treason.
'Minister, I am for the good of Magical Britain,' replied pompously Cornelius, 'that duty supersedes personal loyalty.'
'For the love of Jupiter, Minister,' snapped Abraxas, 'if your Senior Undersecretary is willing to take action, yet you are not, how does that reflect on your position.'
'If you are incapable, perhaps young Cornelius needs to step in,' added Cygnus nastily, at which Cornelius' eyes shone with opportunity. That seemed to at least gain the Minister's attention, as she straightened up.
'No, gentlemen, I am ready to take whatever steps necessary to protect our people,' said Millicent, 'Cornelius, draft that resolution quickly. As for your treason, we shall discuss it some other time.' Cornelius seemed disappointed, but proceeded to obey.
With ten minutes to spare until the Lords sat in session, Cornelius Fudge ran to Abraxas, handing him the resolution to grant the Department of Magical Law Enforcement the necessary powers to root out the werewolves. Lord Malfoy took it without a word then entered the chamber.
Chairman Albus Dumbledore called the House to order as the various Lords took their assigned seats. The session was to be a long one, beginning with the various trade accords that expired and needed to be renewed. Since various financial interests prevailed in such matters, an unspoken agreement between the factions allowed the trade agreements to be passed with minor arguments. Dumbledore was pleased at the day so far, since no fights had occurred, and no one had been slighted of their rights. As the House prepared to break up for lunch, the tension thickened. It was at that point that Lord Malfoy stood up.
'The chair grants the floor to Lord Malfoy,' said Dumbledore tiredly.
'It is not the floor I desire, but to propose a resolution,' said Abraxas.
'A resolution, Lord Malfoy?' replied Dumbledore, 'that is highly unprecedented. Resolutions are submitted before the session, not in the middle of it. I am afraid that we will have to discuss it at the next session.' Outrage broke out in the hall, as the one hundred and thirty Nobilitas candidates stood to exclaim their support of Malfoy.
'I am afraid I have received it just this morning, from the office of the Minister of Magic,' drawled Abraxas, 'it is related to the current werewolf crisis. I move that we vote on whether the resolution is going to be debated.'
'Seconded,' said quickly one of the Lords from the Nobilitas.
Dumbledore sighed; certain battles were impossible to win in the House.
'That won't be necessary, Lord Malfoy, the chair will accept the resolution, if it comes from the office of the Minister,' said Dumbledore, 'now if there are no other points to discuss for now, I say we retire for lunch.' No one objected, and as the session ended for the morning, the Lords exited the chamber, the Palace cantina filling with people, while the exclusive restaurants on the Palace Alley filled with those who did not choose the cantina.
It was to be a long session, as the Lords returned, the Aliquanta giddy with anticipation at the confrontation that was sure to appear between the Nobilitas and the Novus Veneficus on such a sensitive issue.
Dumbledore was less than pleased, lunch had not sat well with him and he much preferred Hogwarts' simple cooking and events than the Palace refined cuisine and intrigue. He had a chance to glance over the rather short resolution over lunch, probably the cause of his indigestion. Although carefully disguised as a call for action, it was nothing else than ordering the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to round up all the werewolves and execute all the unregistered ones. That Dumbledore would not stand for, and over lunch he had devised a plan that could save the day. As was usually the case, however, the decision hung in balance with the Aliquanta. He only hoped they would listen to reason and not their petty interests.
To be continued…