The Marauders: Year Seven Part Two

Nuntius Patronus

"They've got someone on the inside," Mad Eye Moody said in a deep, grumpy tone. He slammed his wooden leg into the stone floor so that it echoed as though he'd banged a gavel on a judge's stand, "We ought to have one on the inside, too."

Dumbledore's fingertips were pressed against one another in a pinnacle. "Yes, I thought so, too, which is why, when I discovered a possibility of there being a leak at the Ministry, I helped Mr. Frek obtain a position within Greyback's army that allows us a glimpse into the movement of the werewolves. This connection, Alastor, is what brought us the information we are discussing tonight."

James looked 'round at Sirius, Remus, and Peter with wide eyes. This, then, was the answer to the mystery of Mr. Frek's outing to the woods, to Greyback's appearance the month before. Why had Regulus Black become involved, then? James wondered, and he could almost see the very same thought circling in Sirius's head, too, and he hoped that Sirius did not come to a conclusion that there had to be a reason for the connection. He turned back to facing forward, looking across the Hall at Dumbledore.

"How do they harvest the werewolf saliva?" Edgar Bones questioned.

Mr. Frek stood up. "They's been makin's it theyselfs, see, they collect they own spittle durin' the moon, see, and it's stored up in bottles - vials of saliva they carry abouts on theyselfs as they is goin' 'bout their ways, Messer Bones, sir."

"Then we need to destroy their store," said Edgar Bones conclusively.

"They'll just be making more," Benjy Fenwick argued.

Edgar Bones shrugged, "Sure but they have a month of time where they don't have any saliva and if nothing else that gives us a month to plan our next move. Think of the thousands of people we could save in this way."

Mad Eye Moody muttered something under his breath and shifted his weight in his chair and Sirius looked at James with a flicker of a smirk playing on his mouth.

"We can begin trying to work on an antidote," suggested Dorcas Meadows.

"There's no antidote to L-L-Lycanothopy," Newt Scamander stuttered. "I've t-t-tried many times to - to find one and never - in all - all my years spent with cr-cr-creatures have I found anything that even resembles a -a -an antidote."

Dorcas looked annoyed and sighed, "But we could continue trying, maybe --"

"Antidote's don't stop the progression in it's tracks!" said Edgar Bones fiercely. "They don't stop the werewolves from breaking into Muggle prisons and adding more and more convicts to their ranks."

"You would think," said Marlene Mackinnon loudly, "That the way they treat Muggles would keep them from wanting them in their ranks to begin with. Even convicted crimminal muggles."

"That's just it, isn't it?" said Sirius, looking over at Marlene. "They treat Muggles like Slaves, they think that's all they're good for is serving wizards and being conquered and used for things, 'ey? Well, let them die on the front lines, too, then, you know? Bloody let'em die for the cause that subjugates them."

Marlene's face flushed with anger, realizing that what Sirius was saying was true, and she pursed her lips and glowered down at the table.

Sirius looked around, "That's what the Death Eaters think, you know, that Muggles aren't worth bloody anything except what they can be made to do. Made to serve."

"Disgusting," Lily said, her eyes tearing up with the passion in Sirius's tone as he shouted the words.

"The same as the way they use the inferius," Sirius shouted, "Because they can, because the dead bodies aren't worth anything else to them except what they can be made to do."