A/N: Usual disclaimer applies.

'Will all Lords come to order,' said Dumbledore, calling the House to session. The action in itself was unnecessary, as everyone was already seated, awaiting the resolution, but the magical world was nothing if not traditional.

'We have in front of us a resolution proposed by Lord Malfoy, on behalf of the Ministry of Magic, concerning the current crisis,' said Dumbledore, 'I shall read it out to the House, then allocate time for the Lords to speak for or against it.' Dumbledore cleared his voice then begun to read the controversial proposal.

'Our world has been attacked by Werewolves of unidentified tribes last night. This attack has resulted in the deaths of one hundred ninety witches and wizards, as is detailed in the Magical Law Enforcement Department's report. The attack was unprovoked and crude in its brutality. As Minister of Magic, I cannot allow attacks on our citizens to occur.

As concerns this current crisis, I Millicent Bagnold, pureblood to the fourth generation, Minister of Magic, propose the following actions to be taken:

1.  The Department of Magical Law Enforcement, through its instrument of law enforcement, the Auror Corps, will be granted additional temporary powers to solve the current crisis;
2.  All Werewolves, registered with the Department for the Control of Magical Beasts, will be required to present themselves to the Ministry for interrogation;
3.  Since Veritaserum is unreliable when it comes to non-humans, additional methods of coercion are to be authorised, to obtain the necessary information;
4.  These interrogations will be carried out by the Auror Corps, giving them full undisclosed authority to treat the Werewolves as they see fit;
5.  As concerns Unregistered Werewolves, if their involvement is proven to have occurred in this crisis, the Auror Corps is authorised to kill on sight;
6.  As a preventive measure against future attacks, all Werewolves are to wear an identifier bracelet, with their name, blood status and address magically imprinted on it;
7.  The procurement of these bracelets shall be handled as is customary, their fabrication being granted to whichever company comes up with the most efficient and economical bracelets;
8.  The refusal to wear the bracelet will result in a five year Azkaban sentence. In the case that the offence is repeated the sentence will be increased to twenty years in Azkaban prison. In the case of a third repetition, the sentence shall be for life;
9.  The use of the Unforgivables is temporarily accorded to the Auror Corps for the duration of this crisis.

Signed today, by the Minister of Magic, Millicent Bagnold, Senior Undersecretary Cornelius Fudge, Department of Magical Law Enforcement Head, Bartemius Crouch.'

Dumbledore finished reading the resolution, his disapproval of it obvious in the tone of his voice. 'Will anyone speak in favour of this resolution?' As was predictable, Abraxas raised his wand. 'The chair recognizes Lord Malfoy.'

Two hundred eyes were upon Abraxas as he made his way from the right of the chamber to the speaker dais. Upon reaching the podium, he put his wand inside his robes, then with a theatrical flourish began his speech, a fake tiredness in his voice.

'Fellow Lords of the realm. Our society was subject to a barbaric attack last night. Witches and wizards slaughtered in their homes. Families torn apart. Little children made orphans overnight. I was fortunate to not lose anyone, for now, but I cannot imagine the pain the families must be feeling. The danger of extinction of the old families is upon us,' said Abraxas Malfoy. Then his voice, which had been grave until now, picked up slightly, as if to convey hope. 'But there is still hope. The Minister has detailed a plan of action, together with the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement. A plan that can set things to rights and protect us in the future. I understand that some of these measures seem harsh, but there is no end to which I would go to protect our citizens. I beseech you to adopt this resolution as it stands.'

'Thank you, Lord Malfoy,' said Dumbledore, when it was apparent that the elder Malfoy had finished his speech. 'Will anyone else like to speak in favour?'

Lord Lestrange stood up, martially, being recognized by the chair. Unlike Abraxas, his step was firm and his voice rang throughout the hall. After the sombre performance of Lord Malfoy, the chamber was surprised at the ferocity of Dimitry's attitude.

'Lord Malfoy is too kind,' said Lord Lestrange, 'and I can sympathize with that. Now, however is not the time for kindness or softness. These beasts have dared to strike at the heart of our society. These half breeds have raised a hand to witches and wizards. What sort of message do we give to the other creatures? I can imagine another goblin rebellion.' He paused for effect, letting the words sink in.

The chamber shuddered, as most except the youngest of Lords still remembered the horrors of the last goblin rebellion. 'What sort of message are we giving to the rest of the world? This is not a time to appear weak. This is a time to strike back with full force. Let the Aurors march out and strike the beasts' lairs. Let us wipe them out so that they may never again threaten us.'

Lord Lestrange finished the speech, his tone raised to a powerful roar almost. Some members in the chamber, particularly those of the Nobilitas mirrored his war cry, and powerful applause rang in the chamber, drowning out the shouts of the Novus Veneficus. Malfoy allowed himself a small smile from his seat. The introduction had been flawless, while the war cry had invigorated the audience. He was worried of the Aliquanta, however, who remained silent throughout both speeches, and even now looked at Lord Macmillan.

Dumbledore remained silent as well, pondering the choices he had in his mind. 'The chair now wishes to entertain the opposition,' said Dumbledore. Shouts could be heard from the Nobilitas, but Malfoy and Black calmed them down. There was not much more that could be said in favour.

'Who wishes to speak against?' asked Dumbledore.

'Why not just call Lord Potter from the start,' shouted one of the minor Lord of the Nobilitas, causing laughter to ripple through their ranks. Unaffected, Dumbledore granted the floor to Richard Potter, who made his way to the speaker podium.

'This resolution is nothing but a carte blanche for murder,' spat Richard Potter, 'and as such is unfit for our chambers. I shall rip it apart point by point. Point one states that additional powers shall be granted to the Auror Corps. Am I the only one who sees this as a disguise for the creation of an Auror state? Soon we shall probably start arresting undesirables in our society, all for preserving the peace. This point cannot stand, the Aurors' attributes are perfectly suited for handling the criminals. And this was a crime, fellow Lords, not an act of war as Lord Lestrange will have you believe. The unregistered werewolves are unregistered because they do not wish to subject themselves to registration. I do not blame them, as the process is rather barbaric.' Outrage ran in the chamber, with some accusing him of siding with the beasts. Once the noise had quieted down, Lord Potter continued unaffected.

'That does not make them a foreign organisation. Point two: All werewolves are to present themselves at the Ministry. Does that include the children? Are we going to start dragging werewolf elders, children and females from their houses and torture them for information? Point three: Veritaserum cannot be used? Agreed, its effect on non-humans is debatable, but are we to discard it from start? What about Legilimency? We have wizards trained in the mind arts, perhaps some that can make sense of an alien mind. Point four: The Aurors are to be granted full authority during the interrogation. That is just a way to let them torture them for information. I won't even start to tell you why that is wrong. If you think otherwise it is unlikely I can change your mind anyhow. Point five: Killing on sight? What is next? Should we dismantle the Wizengamot courts and simply have the Aurors kill suspects on sight? Points six, seven and eight regarding the bracelets are inhumane. Werewolves are not wizards but they are not beasts either. We cannot put leashes on them. Point nine, according the full usage of the Unforgivables. This crisis is not large enough to have such a radical measure in place. Once we go down that road there are dangerous side streets branching from it. I am completely against using the Unforgivables.' Lord Potter finished his speech, retiring back to his seat with a tired gait, under the thunderous applause of the Novus Veneficus, and even most of the Aliquanta. He had scored a victory today; he could feel it in his old bones.

'If there are no further points, we shall move unto voting,' said Dumbledore, leaving a few seconds for objections. Cygnus looked as if he wanted to say a few words, but appeared to have changed his mind as he said nothing. In order of allegiance, each Lord stood up, walked to voting table that had been brought out for significant votes and touched one of the globes on the table with his wand.

First was Lord Malfoy, who walked calmly towards the table, moved aside so the entire chamber could see, and touched the white globe. Lord Black, followed by Lord Lestrange touched the white globe also. Behind them trickled the full complement of the Nobilitas, as they each proudly displayed their choice.

Lord Potter made his way towards the voting table, moving slowly, as the speech had exhausted him, and touched his wand to the black globe, which shone slightly. The other nine Lords of the Novus Veneficus selected their choice as well.

The two warring factions out of the way, their eyes all went towards the Aliquanta. Lord Macmillan walked nervously towards the voting table; cast a glance at the triumvirs, then one at Richard Potter, who smiled at him. Two hundred eyes were upon him at the moment. He had never before been subject to such celebrity in the house. Withdrawing his wand from his robes, he seemed to pause in the middle, then firmly touched the black globe. The Novus Veneficus broke out in applause, like schoolchildren. The Triumvirs' looks made Lord Macmillan want to change his vote, but he stood firm. His party followed him, making their choices. After each Lord had voted, two numbers appeared in the air, detailing the results. Dumbledore's voice seemed to have regained some of its joviality.

'Since this is a matter of changing the organisation of our government, a 2/3 majority is required. The resolution fails by 130 to 80 votes. This session has ended.'

'The Aliquanta have betrayed us,' snapped Lestrange, 'I will torture that pansy Macmillan until he screams for mercy.'

'Restrain yourself Dimitry,' drawled Abraxas, 'this is neither the time nor the place.'

'We are doomed,' said Cygnus, 'by using the current methods the Aurors won't be able to apprehend one werewolf. And the press will call out for blood.'

'I don't know about you, but I suggest you hire some additional protection for your families,' added Lord Greengrass, then continued in doubt, 'I don't know if my House Guards can stop a pack of werewolves.'

'Let them come, I'll rip them to shreds,' roared Lestrange.

Richard Potter was congratulating Lord Macmillan, joined by Dumbledore as the Nobilitas delegation walked out of the chamber. The press at the gallery could be seen writing furiously on their parchments and snapping photos of the Lords as quickly as they could before they left. Each of the party leaders had been accosted by reporters on his way out. Lord Malfoy spoke briefly for the Nobilitas, detailing his disappointment in the way things had gone. Lord Macmillan, backed by Lord Potter remained at the Palace for a full fledged conference. The press would not agree with them, however.

The following morning, the owls flew across Magical Britain, delivering papers with scathing titles. 'The Minister betrayed by her own party!' 'The Novus Veneficus and the Aliquanta scared to act!' 'Elderly Lord Potter against saving lives!' The titles continued, as each newspaper sprouted off acid at the two Lords who had blocked legislation.

Lord Voldemort smiled as Igor brought the morning paper. Everything had gone as he had planned. There was now one last thing to take care of. A short trip was in order. However, things needed to be set in motion before he could depart. Wishing he had an easier solution to call his followers than going through intermediaries, he called for Karkaroff.

'Master, you sent for me?' asked Igor, after entering the Dark Lord's chamber. He stared at the sight that greeted him. Lord Voldemort was not one for fashion statements, usually dressed in plain black robes, and the white mask when he went for a mission. That was more Igor's domain.

Now however, the situation was completely reversed. Lord Voldemort was dressed in tall black boots, white breeches, a black cut riding robe, silver plate armour on his chest, bearing a strange symbol, together with a long silver travelling cloak with hood and a pure gold face mask. Perhaps the strangest of them all was the long-sword hanging from his belt on the right side. As Igor stood, awaiting confirmation, Lord Voldemort finished his outfit, adding a silver sash over his armour.

A member of an older wizarding family might have understood the significance of the strange outfit, but Igor Karkaroff, for all his claims to purity came from a mediocre family. He might have heard of them, but he had never seen one in his entire life. Few people, who were not Knights themselves, laid eyes on a Knight of Walpurgis and survived to tell the tale.

'Yes Igor, I did,' replied Lord Voldemort, his voice muffled by the mask that covered his entire face. 'I need you to summon our friends Maltius and Evan. We need their help tonight.'

'Certainly master,' said Igor, awaiting further advice or explanation. Lord Voldemort did not deign to give him either.

'Have them ready,' said Lord Voldemort as he dismissed him. He then reached for a portkey, and with a last glance at his chamber, as the portkey activated, disappeared.

Cursing the wards that forced him to cross the remaining distance on foot, Lord Voldemort made his way through the forest until he reached a clearing. The trees parted to reveal a tall wall and a large gate, guarded by two similarly dressed wizards, sporting black sashes over their glittering silver armour. As he approached, the two drew swords and wands, placing themselves in front of the gates.

'Speak the words and enter,' said one of the guards.

'We protect our world,' said Lord Voldemort cryptically.

'We stand in the darkness, ready to strike,' replied the guard.

'Our magic is our shield and sword,' finished Lord Voldemort. The two separated to allow him to pass.

'You have returned Lord Voldemort,' said the guard.

'Is the Grandmaster here?' asked Lord Voldemort, cutting straight through the pleasantries.

'He is in the North tower. I shall send word,' replied the guard, as Lord Voldemort crossed under the gates and entered the courtyard. 'Welcome back to Walpurgrad,' added the guard to Voldemort's retreating back,

Lord Voldemort made his way to the castle ahead, passing through the small town that had congregated around the fortress. On his way to see the Grandmaster he saw youths in training, both with sword and wand, while their more advanced brethren used a combination of both.

Several who recognized him, bowed in respect, allowing him his privacy. As he climbed the steps to the entrance and then to the North tower, his mind reviewed the speech he had prepared. The Grandmaster of the Order was not one to succumb to tricks. Truth and reason were his allies now. Allies that he was no longer accustomed to using.

The situation was reversed for once, as Lord Voldemort entered the spire of the North tower and bowed on one knee.

'Rise, old friend,' said the Grandmaster, not allowing Lord Voldemort to suffer the humility of bowing for long. 'It has been long since you have last visited us Marvolo.'

'I no longer use that name, Grandmaster,' replied Lord Voldemort, forcing himself to speak respectfully.

'I know, I have heard of your exploits in England,' replied the Grandmaster. 'So, Lord Voldemort, to what occasion do you return to us?'

'I require your help, Grandmaster,' said Lord Voldemort, joining him on the window sill, looking down at the knights and the trainees.

'With the werewolves?' asked the Grandmaster. For the first time, doubt began to creep in Voldemort's mind. Still, there were no witnesses. It was impossible for the Grandmaster to know the truth.

'Yes, Grandmaster. The Ministry is inept. They need to be eradicated,' lied Lord Voldemort smoothly.

'I do wonder who motivated them to strike at Britain,' said the Grandmaster, staring into Lord Voldemort's golden mask.

'They are beasts, Grandmaster, they do not think like we do,' said Lord Voldemort.

'It is a dangerous game you are playing Marvolo.' Voldemort flinched at his given name. 'But you are a member of this Order and are entitled to aid. Once a Knight of Walpurgis always a Knight of Walpurgis. How many do you need?'

'They are many of them, Grandmaster,' said Lord Voldemort, 'Give me a company.'

'You need two hundred Knights to strike at a tribe of Werewolves?' snapped the Grandmaster.

'Our brother's lives are precious to me, Grandmaster,' said Lord Voldemort. 'In numbers there is strength.'

'Very well, Lord Voldemort,' said the Grandmaster, 'I shall send orders. Take the fifth company with you.'

'Thank you, Grandmaster,' said Lord Voldemort, 'May we return triumphant.'

'See that you do.' The Grandmaster dismissed Lord Voldemort, who clenched his teeth in annoyance. Soon he shall have his own followers, and no longer will he be required to beg for aid. Still, for now he would have to make do.

The herald had arrived at the same time as Lord Voldemort to the barracks of the Fifth Company. Two hundred knights waited in parade formation, in the saddles of their mounts, their armour polished, their golden masks fastened, and their hoods drawn. Despite his tricks, Lord Voldemort could not help but feel a moment of pride. The sight was indeed glorious. On his mark the Knights fell in formation behind him, as they rode towards the gates. The double gates were opened wide to allow the two man abreast formation to pass. Once they had arrived at the location used for transit, each knight grabbed hold of one of their preset portkeys and disappeared on their short voyage to England, their magical horses trained for the form of transportation.

The short wizard in the Department of Magical Transportation saw his quadrants fluctuate, indicating a spike in Portkey traffic to England. Checking his schedule he saw the upcoming Five Warlocks' concert in Diagon Alley was soon to start. Passing it off as mere late arrivals, he continued to read his Quidditch magazine.

The so called Five Warlocks' fans had arrived in the plains near Voldemort's house. They were joined by three wide eyed English wizards. Lord Voldemort moved towards them, as the Knights dismounted to calm down their mounts after the stressful portkey journey.

'Igor, I see you have equipped our friends adequately,' remarked Lord Voldemort on the black robes and white masks that Maltius and Evan were wearing. 'We have been joined tonight by some friends of mine. Maltius, Evan, now we strike back at the half-breeds that have dared raise an arm on our society.'

Igor's eyes widened slightly, remembering a trip taken to a werewolf lair, but wisely chose to remain silent. After all, the master's plans were not his concern. Maltius and Evan however, seemed fanatically ready, poisoned by the sublime confidence that their age and blood gave them. Lord Voldemort gave them the Apparition coordinates and two hundred and four wizards, with two hundred magical horses Disapparated for Fenrir's domain, unknown to the Werewolves.

Fenrir Greyback was still celebrating the victory with his pack, a few lazy guards posted outside of the cave complex. The werewolves were ecstatic with joy, some of them slightly drunk, and completely unaware of the small army that had Apparated several hundred metres away. One of the Knights, out of respect for Lord Voldemort had dismounted and offered his horse to Lord Voldemort, joining Maltius, Igor and Evan on foot. Lord Voldemort thanked him, then mounted up, ready to address his troops.

'The beasts are no match for us, but they are numerous,' said Lord Voldemort, 'we need to draw them out in the open, where we are at an advantage. Thankfully for us, they are aggressive and will respond to any attack in force. Maltius, Evan and Igor, I need you to act as bait.'

Igor looked slightly green in the face, Maltius listened calmly but Evan a seemed to absorb every word that Voldemort spoke. Now he understood. This was the moment he was born for. Lord Voldemort continued uncaring about their reactions.

'I need you three to attack the guards at the entrance of the cave,' said Lord Voldemort, 'however it is essential that you leave one of them alive to warn the rest.'

'But my lord, if they warn them, won't they come out to attack us?' asked Igor, without thinking beforehand.

'That is the plan Igor,' said Lord Voldemort, annoyed but unwilling to antagonize the naturally nervous wizard. 'Once they come out to attack, make your way back to us. It is essential to draw them out of their lair. Once they are in the open field, we will strike them head on.'

'It will be done my lord,' said Maltius, speaking for the three.

'And remember, there are complicated spells to deal with werewolves, but a killing curse works just as well,' added Lord Voldemort, hoping the three were capable of it. It would not do to lose his starting three followers until he gathered more.

The same plan of action was detailed to the Knights, who merely nodded grimly, unafraid. They mounted their horses, checking the saddles then spread into a long, thin line of battle, ready for one glorious charge to end the battle swiftly.

Igor, Maltius and Evan were not as confident. Seeing the nervousness of Igor, despite his precedence of rank, Maltius took point, walking slightly ahead and giving commands. There were four guards, currently drinking themselves to a stupor. Luckily it was not a full moon, and as such the half-breeds did not enjoy any advantage except superior numbers.

'All right,' whispered Maltius, 'spread out to make them think we are more than three people. Leave the one closest to the entrance alive. And do not miss. We strike on three.'

His two companions nodded their understanding, and spread out to surround the four near drunk werewolves. Maintaining eye contact, Maltius raised a gloved hand. One, two, three. 'Avada Kedavra!' Three identical emerald flashes left their wands, striking three of the werewolves in beautiful synchrony. The fourth yelled seeing his companions fall, but decided his own safety was more important and rushed indoors. Maltius shot a few curses after him, missing deliberately.

'Now, reductor curses at the entrance!' snapped Maltius. The synchronised 'Reducto!' rang in the silence of the night, producing more sound than damage. Still it gave off the impression of a siege, and was bound to attract the beasts inside.

The guard had rushed to warn Fenrir of the impending attack, disturbing the entire partying den on his way in. Several of the older males drew their wands to teach him the pecking order, but Fenrir raised a hand stopping them.

'What is it?' snapped Greyback.

'Alpha Greyback, we are under attack,' wailed the guard, 'the Ministry have found us.'

'Are you sure?' asked Greyback, not believing his ears.

'Yes, Alpha, wizards, the others are dead,' said the guard, 'they have us surrounded, they came at us from everywhere.'

Just then the sound of the Reductos could be heard, the cave walls shaking from the bombardment, a statue of a wolf tumbling down, crashing into a passed out werewolf.

'Weaklings,' spat Fenrir, 'they are afraid to enter and attack us. That is not the way of the wolf. Rouse everyone, we attack at once!'

Shouts could be heard as the werewolves gathered to sally out of their besieged caves. They were weaker outside the full moon, but their werewolf infection still granted them some inhuman characteristics. Sadly, caution and tactics were not one of them.

Maltius could see the werewolves exiting the cave, and felt a shiver on his back as he saw the dark mass of dirty, unwashed werewolves. Weaklings they may be as the master called them, but by Jupiter they were many of them. Remembering that far more dangerous was the bite than any spell, he vowed to keep his distance.

Seeing a werewolf that appeared to be more important than the rest, as he was howling to let them feel the silver later on if they didn't get moving quicker he stood up from the bushes and yelled at the top of his voice 'Avada Kedavra!' The green illuminated the clearing, striking the Werewolf beta before he could finish another threat. Igor and Evan had caught on and started shooting their own killing curses.

Once the initial confusion of the attack had worn off, the werewolves ran forward, frenzied by the death of their beta.

'Our job here is done,' yelled Maltius, then breaking at a run back towards the Dark Lord. Igor, never one to be left behind from running from a fight was quickly after, even managing to surpass Maltius at times. Evan had debated whether to stay and fight, but remembering the horror tales of being bitten by a werewolf killed another one then joined his friends in retreat.

Lord Voldemort stood calmly on his horse, his company aligned in perfect stillness. As a cloud moved and the moon cast some light onto what was soon to become a battlefield, he spotted Igor, Maltius and Evan running as fast as their legs would carry them, followed by frenzied werewolves, dressed in rags and shabby robes. As per an unheard command, each Knight switched the reins to the left side, basing themselves mostly on their knees to control the superbly trained horses and drew their swords with the same hand. The wands remained in the right hand, at ready, awaiting the order to charge.

Lord Voldemort cast another glance at the werewolves, most of whom had exited the small woods and were now vulnerable in the field, then shot emerald sparks out of his wand, kicking his horse at a gallop.

The knights followed, closing the range with the werewolves. The Betas by now understood that they had been tricked, but instead of withdrawing roared orders at the top of their voice to kill, maim, slaughter and feast on their corpses. The unwilling and weak that ran away would feel the silver later on tonight.

As soon as the distance lessened, the Knights started casting spells. Although some preferred to be more fancy in their spellwork, most relied on the proven Killing curse. Several dozen Werewolves hit the ground before even making contact. Even fewer of them stopped to trade spells with the enemy, forgetting they were not in their werewolf form. They were unused to battling an organized enemy as wizards, and their charge and maim tactics did not work as well as they did.

Lord Voldemort was enjoying himself. Not one werewolf had managed to save himself from his fury. Soon the Knights line had collided with the werewolves and the organised fight turned into a massacre. The powerful mounts had been trained to use their hooves to crush skulls and bones and were trampling down the werewolves, who attempted to jump and bite the Knights. If the distance became too close, the swords would swing and arms, heads, even wands were cleaved in two.

Fenrir was enraged, his werewolves had no order whatsoever and the wizards were organised into a line like steel. Seeing one knight by himself, he roared 'Avada Kedavra!' His aim fell short however, and the mount fell dead instead of the knight. Seeing a glimmer of hope several werewolves jumped at him, lusting for human flesh.

The knight had stood up, but held a broken wand in his right hand. Not losing his calm, he dropped the remains of his wand and drew his long sword. The first werewolf that reached him was decapitated by a powerful swing.

Fenrir was enraged at the death of one of his werewolves. He shot a bone breaking charm at the knight, aiming for his chest. He could not believe his eyes when the spell collided with the knight's breastplate and dissipated against the silvery metal. He did not have time to ponder his situation though, as a passing knight had taken advantage of his situation and slashed his sword over his back in passing.

Pain, inhuman pain as his skin was flayed of by the sword. It even seemed to burn his flesh as the silver did when he was a young werewolf and had dropped the lunch for the Alpha. Of course the Alpha had paid with his life once he had aged and Fenrir had grown strong, but by the divine moon goddess he had not forgotten the burn of silver.

Lord Voldemort directed the knights forward shooting killing curses at will and striking with the sword whenever he passed by a stray werewolf. Out of the back of his eye he saw Fenrir fall after he slashed at him, but he heard him moan afterwards. Tucking away the useful information that he was still alive, he continued the slaughter.

The battle had turned into a rout. With the Alpha down, as well as most of the Betas, the already disorganised werewolves had begun to run for the apparent safety of the caves. When they reached the beginning of the woods, Lord Voldemort dismounted, followed by most of the knights. A few dozens remained behind to stab at the injured werewolves and guard the horses.

By the time they had reached the caves the werwolves numbered in the mere dozens, with an elderly Beta in command. As the armoured wizards broke through the trees and into the clearing, many broke and ran. The few who resisted were shot down by killing curses or cleaved in two by the swords.

Lord Voldemort took the battle inside, not stopping until all of them were dead. The slaughter took on epic proportions as man, woman and child, none were sparred. Too tired to cast spells anymore, some of the Knights resorted to simply stab the remaining werewolves. Half an hour later the battle was nearly done. A small group of thirty werewolves, with three women had surrendered and were kept in the throne room.

'Master, we are victorious,' said Igor pompously, 'there are thirty prisoners who surrendered and await your justice.'

'There is no need to wait for that,' said Lord Voldemort, wiping his sword on the rags of a nearby corpse then sheathing it, 'kill them all.'

'Yes, my lord,' replied Igor promptly. Shortly after multiple voices casted 'Avada Kedavra!' extinguishing any hope for mercy those who surrendered had.

The cleanup operation took a very short time; the werewolves were levitated into a large pile in front of their caves and left to rot. A select few, more important leaders were decapitated. There was nothing worthy to loot in the caves, and as such the Knights and the select few followers of Voldemort gathered outside.

'Have we lost any brothers?' asked Voldemort to the Master of the Company.

'Fifteen of our brothers will not see the sunlight glittering on Walpurgrad's towers, said the Master, 'but it was a small price to pay for clearing the word of this filth.'

'I am sorry,' lied Voldemort smoothly, 'please give my thanks to the Grandmaster.'

'I will, Lord Voldemort,' said the Master, 'may we return to Walpurgrad?'

Voldemort merely nodded, and once the Knights had gathered their mounts they activated the portkeys and disappeared, leaving the four wizards alone with a mountain of werewolves.

'Igor I have a job for you…' said Lord Voldemort before Disapparating.

The next morning, Igor Karkaroff, dressed in pristine dress robes, carrying a brown sac walked into the Ministry of Magic. Dozens of reporters seemed to gravitate towards the office of Barty Crouch, trying to get a statement. The Head of Magical Law Enforcement himself had to go out of his office and try to disperse the crowd.

'What will you do about the werewolf threat now that you hands are tied, sir?' asked one reporter.

'Do you feel betrayed by the wizards who voted down the resolution?' asked another.

'Gentlemen, I have a lot of work to do,' said Barty Crouch, trying to appeal to the reporters' reason 'and I don't have the time to answer your questions right now.' It was at that time that Igor chose to make his appearance, his brown sack in his right hand.

'The werewolves are no longer a concern, gentlemen,' said Igor, throwing down the sack. The heads of the Betas of Fenrir's pack rolled on the floor, staining the white marble with blood. Instantly the attention of the reporters turned towards him, while Barty Crouch stared in shock at the wizard who had walked into the Ministry with a sack of Werewolf heads.

'Sir, what is your name?' asked a reporter.

'My name is unimportant,' said Igor, 'I serve Lord Voldemort. He has taken care of your werewolf problem.'

'Who is Lord Voldemort?' asked another reporter.

'A wizard who wishes to help our society escape its crutches,' replied Igor, enjoying himself, 'a hero to us all, who has cleansed our world of the half-breeds who killed wizards.'

In the cellar at Voldemort's house a bloody Fenrir Greyback laid on a cot. Voldemort stood in the corner, now changed from his Knight of Walpurgis outfit into his trademark black robes. Igor had done well, and now the papers were roaring with praising Lord Voldemort and his organisation. Damn it he needed a name for them. Now, however, was not the time to consider it.

The survivors of the attacks had identified some of the werewolves, and the marks they bore shown they were unregistered. Young wizards pronounced their support for the shadow benefactor. Just then, Fenrir woke up, interrupting him from his thoughts.

'Lord Voldemort, what happened?' asked Fenrir groggily.

'Oh my friend,' said Voldemort with a sickening sweet voice, 'I am afraid the Aurors struck at your pack. By the time I got there it was too late to do anything. They left you for dead. I got you out.'

'The swords, it burned, the pain,' moaned Fenrir.

'Yes, I am sure it did,' said Voldemort nastily, as Fenrir trashed about in pain from the silver inflicted wound.