To Beast Or Not To Beast

The classification of whether a werewolf was a being or a beast was one that sparked many debates and those suffering from lycanthropy had found themselves being shifted to and from the being division to the beast division for as long as the records went back. Currently they were under the regulation of the Being Division owing to the fact that they were perfectly normal wizards when not transformed, Alexander, however, didn't agree. To the pure blood they were nothing more than vermin, lesser-man, dangerous and thirsty for blood. Whether it was politically correct or not, to him, they were beasts.

Upon taking the job within the being division Alexander's original career goal had been to enter economics. To run the goblin liaison office had always been a fantasy of Alexander's, working with goblins to control the economy, providing him with power, money and status all at the same time. Maybe if he proved competent then the ex-Slytherin would have ran for the minister of magic in his later years. However that fantasy wasn't a priority anymore. Part of Alexander's junior role entailed the regulation of werewolves. His role was only basic at the moment. First he'd been a general intern of the Being Division but now the death eater found himself doing administration for the werewolf office. A role Alexander deemed beneath him. Sure his Father had told him to take the job, prove his competence and then work his way up the ministerial ladder as all future ministers do but becoming minister wasn't the purpose for Alexander's work. He didn't want that prestige.

At the start of September werewolves had invaded the grounds of Hogwarts, heck they'd destroyed a viaduct and caused the Hogwarts Express to sink and, regardless of how irritating his younger sister is, blood runs thicker than water. The werewolves were a pack, a rogue pack out of ministry control and had been causing havoc since becoming large. Their leader, James Blood, in particular was reason enough to support Alexander's argument against calling them 'beings'. He was a beast. A monster. Albeit he'd provided excellent material for his Mother to write about and exclusive interviews to give her a journalistic boost but he was still a terrorist to Wizarding Britain and if there is one thing Alexander hates more than werewolves it's werewolves that try and overthrow the throne.

Two pure bloods had been found dead. Alexander, although not part of the department of magical law, had dealt with an inquiry regarding the werewolf who'd slayed them: A member of James Blood's pack. Had they been muggle borns perhaps the death eater would have cared less but pure bloods were noble, traditional and regal. Blood had been spilled in the pure blood palace and now Alexander wanted to silence the werewolf once and for all. Should he leave it to the werewolf capture unit? Yes. Was he going to? No. Would it put his life in danger? Yes. But was it worth it? Certainly. If Alexander managed to successfully capture and slay James Blood, one of the most fear-invoking werewolves of recent history, then the ex-Slytherin would no doubt find himself with a promotion to a position where he could enforce strict anti-werewolf laws and cut down hard on the diseased beasts.



Alexander Nott wasn't a fool, foolish yes, but he wasn't a complete fool. He was smart, ambitious and cunning. Three traits that would find themselves of use as the Slytherin embarked upon his solo mission to rid the world of James Blood. His smart had allowed him to locate the headquarters of James Blood. His ambition hadn't let him give up and his cunning was in his weapon of choice. Isadora had brewed a poison a year ago that had killed a werewolf on the spot. The Slytherin didn't like to interfere with her potion making, he tended to keep out of the brewing room but that didn't mean he didn't know what she brewed and where she kept it. There was a vial of blood red liquid on the topmost shelf out of sight. That morning he'd seized it and now Nott found himself standing outside the den of James Blood.

The next part was the dangerous part. The part that required courage. Alexander was about to enter the lions den, which would no doubt be crawling with fellow werewolves. Beasts. It would be foolish for the Nott boy to enter, and so, he waited. Nine hours, after hiding in the bushes with a disillusionment charm cast upon him, the moment Alexander had been waiting for arrived. The night had fallen, the mood was half (he'd timed it well not to cross wands at the full moon), and James Blood was leaving accompanied by a weedy looking sidekick.

Alexander followed the beasts through the streets of London, reaching more darker areas, areas no longer lit by street lights and instead by flickering lanterns hanging from brackets in back alleys. Wherever James Blood was heading Alexander wasn't sure he liked it - and that is something coming from a death eater. The soft thump of distant music was there to reassure Alexander and as his heart beat the further he followed James the louder the music became until... Satans.

They weren't on Knockturn Alley but they were in the back alleys. If Alexander wanted to act he needed to do it soon. Sure, if Blood were meeting a death eater than Nott would be safe, but chances are whoever Blood was meeting up with wasn't any sort of ally to Alexander.

Stupefy. Alexander thought, stunning the weedy looking werewolf and causing him to crash into a pile of bin bags.

Stupefy. He cast again, this time aiming at James Blood.

CLANG.

The spell missed and instead ricocheted from a drainpipe and sizzling away in a shower of sparks.

Sh*t Alexander thought, his skin turning pale, his eyes widening and becoming bloodshot as his heart began to pound wilder than it ever had before. It's fine. He can't see me. He can't see me. My disillusionment charm should hide me. It's dark too. He wont- Alexander's thoughts cut off as he noticed his timid reflection below a flickering light in a cracked mirror that had been tossed out of one of the stores into the back alley. His disillusionment charm had faded.

James had been well put in his place since his own lair had fallen. He had literally had Khaat Lupin. She had been his, and then somehow all of England came looking for her.  They'd taken her back and her cubs and had not just infiltrated his lair, but had killed some of his younger pack members and then destroyed the lair altogether.


To survive, he'd been forced to not merely retreat but to grovel back at the feet of his mentor, Fenrir Greyback.  Fenrir had agreed to take in the pack but only if James had relinquished control. Fenrir would settle for nothing less than 100% compliance.

Almost two years later, here he sat. Fenrir's pack was large and healthy and strong.  It was also frustratingly laid back and low key.  Fenrir was aging, that was true, but he was still the alpha male and still well capable of putting James in his place. 


James owed Fenrir for sheltering the entire pack, and so he had kept his agreement to him.  Night had fallen, and the pack was restless and hungry for a fight tonight. There was some of the usual power struggles and sparring for minor level hierarchical positions in the pack.  James was bored.


He finally took a handful of young and hungry males, with Fenrir's permission, and decided to go hunting through the streets of London. There was something about the night that James loved.  That, and, as they neared Diagon Alley and Knockturn there was the palpable fear that always radiated from the night streets.  


One of his younger males fell like a stone to the back alley pavement, straight as a plank.  He felt the whizz of wandfire zipping past his head, and he spun, looking for the witch or wizard fool enough to attack.


And there he was. A shrimp of a boy.  Wand drawn, charm failing to keep him hidden.  James could almost smell the kid's fear, could almost hear the little fool's heartbeat roaring in his own ears. He saw the confidence in the human's eyes change to surprise and then terror.  


He picked up a metal garbage can and hurled it at the boy's wand hand, interested in getting the wand out of his hand. 


"Come to play, have you?" James sneered in a low tone. "Or did you count on coming here to die? It really doesn't matter, does it, because I'm a werewolf and you look like food to me.  Bad choice for you, entree for me. You really should have paid more attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts class."


"Can we kill him?" one of the younger pack members growled, eager to prove himself to James.


"Why not?" James laughed, not taking his eyes off the boy.

It seemed as though time had frozen. In light of the sudden realisation that James Blood had not only been alerted of Alexander's presence but had zoned in on him Alexander's senses had heightened. There were two methods of dealing with fear: fight, or flight. It was still unclear as to which would find Alexander for the boy merely stood there, his wand hands remaining firmly gripped by his blood-drained fingers. He had two choices: Fight, take out the remaining side kicks and then claim Blood's head for his own or the alternative, to run and try again another day.

Without thinking Alexander flattened himself against a wall to dodge the metal lid that had been hurled his way. If his heart had been pounding before it was nothing to what it was doing now. James had fired his first shots. Another pack member had asked something that Alexander didn't quite catch over the sound of the clatter but it couldn't have been good news for the death eater as two were wolfs began heading his way.

'Stay back!' Alexander called, a quiver of fear in his voice. 'Face me one on one, Blood!' Alexander added as though the Ex-Slytherin only believed in fair game. Had the tables been turned Alexander would be taking advantage of the strength in numbers. Thankfully one of the three side kicks had been stunned already but he was still outnumbered.

'I said stay back' His eyes sharpened, the dark pupils homing in on the creeping wizards, this time an element of strength finding its way into Alexander's voice as his fingers pulled the cuff of his robes back revealing the dark mark.

'We're fighting one on one or else I'll call for a few friends of my own.'

His eyebrows flickered cockishly.

"Rules are for humans," James said, laughing, amused at the boys attempts at setting up some sort of gentleman's agreement. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not human. I don't use rules, but if you need them, I'll tell you know this is going to go. I'm hungry. You're food. I'm going to eat you. That's all the rules I need."  James howled purposely to bring more members of his pack.


In Diagon Alley, Khaat was heading from Ollivander's where she was picking up another wand for herself as a back up wand. She had her uncle's wand, but she didn't want to take it into active combat unless she had to. Still, a back up wand was a good thing. She was always more secure with Marcus. He stayed close, always had his arm around her waist, drawn close, and she liked the security of it.


But then, she heard the distinctive howl the cut through the night skies, a howl she knew like no other, a howl that made the blood in her veins freeze altogether.  James. The monster that always had killing her on his mind, the monster that could smell her a block away, the monster that had ripped her face and her neck and her shoulder and made her afraid to show herself to her own people.  This howl was his summoning howl. When he hunted.  


She froze in her tracks for a moment, and she felt Marcus starting to look all around for the beast. Surely he wasn't far.  Khaat looked up around the rooflines and saw a figure running over the top of a roof towards Knockturn.  


Khaat broke free of Marcus and started to run. James hadn't hunted for months, not that she knew of, but he fully intended that someone was going to die tonight.


"Khaat! No!" Marcus called after her. She barely heard him, running as fast as she could go. Marcus was hot on her heels.


She ran into the alley and saw James's mammoth shadow against the streetlight. She'd know it anywhere. He was poised to leap, to attack. But who? Where were they? 


Then she saw it. He didn't look much more than 19 or 20. He was trying to hold James off, but he was scared. And he had good right to be.  She saw James lower into a bit of a crouch. The next move he made was surely going to be leaping onto the boy to kill him.


"James!" She called, stepping out into the full light of the street. Blood froze at the sound of a new voice. He looked full at her, and an eerie smile crossed his face. She walked slowly, hearing the lonely sound of her high heels on the brick street as she walked towards the beast.  


"You don't have a taste for wizard boys," she said to James, fully intending to draw the fight away from the boy. "Not when you could have me instead."


"And why would you do that?" he asked, standing up out of his crouch. "You don't even know this idiot."


"He's in over his head here, and you know it," Khaat reasoned. "And, whether I know him or not is immaterial. He's somebody's son.  She knew Marcus was right behind her.  She reached back towards him. "Your knife, Marcus." He put it in her hand. She deliberately cut the palm of her hand so that the blood dripped freely onto the brick. She waited for the smell to reach James' nose. Then she started to walk a bit closer, walking past the terrified young man.


"This," she said, holding up her bleeding hand, "is what you dream of. This is what you want to smell again, taste again."  She watched James's eyes carefully. He seemed entirely fixed on her hand.  Marcus paused beside the young man.

"Can you help me create enough of a diversion to get the rest of them to bear off?" he whispered to the young man. Marcus was ever mindful he had one duty and one alone--to protect Khaat at all costs. But sometimes she made that incredibly difficult when tossing herself under the proverbial bus, especially when the bus was James.

The howl was haunting. It sent chills down Alexander's spine and before his eyes he was reminded of the scene at Hogwarts when he'd showed up to assist in protecting the students, not that he'd cared for them he'd only shown up to ensure the safety of his wife and sister. There'd been werewolves howling left, right and centre. One had even found itself atop of him, slashed his chest and he still had a scar to prove it.

A hand traced across where the scar was marked beneath his clothes as Alexander took a harsh swallow. His mouth was drying out, his heart hammering out of his rib cage, any essence of life was draining away from the ex-Slytherin. Alexander had tailed James Blood thinking he could take him out with stealth, never had he imagined he'd have to fight him and never did he image that the entire pack would show up.

His dark mark was exposed, all Alexander had to do was press the mark and his leader would be alerted. She'd come, thinking it were an emergency. Maybe she'd be mad that he called her in desperation to protect him but whatever rage Du Hunt could exert upon him was nothing to the hunger of James Blood.

A voice called somewhere behind him, it was a womans voice and never before had the boy hoped not to be alone. Someone was here, someone was here to save him and to save him she was going to do just that.

Idiot. That's what Blood had referred to him as. Already his mistakes were being publicly ridiculed and the woman, whoever she was, seemed to agree suggesting that Alexander was in over his head. It was apparent that Alexander had miscalculated his abilities in an attempt to prove his worth and climb the Ministerial ladder. This set back was crushing and distracting of the situation the death eater found himself in. Was this what he was going to become? A fool who was rescued by some stranger. Is this mistake one that would define him and his entire future? Would he shame his pureblood name? Would his wrongdoing become a joke at future pureblood socials?

The whisper of a men brought Alexander to his senses. Fright had rooted Alexander to the spot and snippets of a conversation had sent him into a daydream. It was a symptom of fight. People scared of death, facing death, often saw situations flash before their eyes and for Alexander painfully embarrassing scenes had played before his eyes.

The woman had walked in front of him, all he could see was her back and from that he had no clue who she was. Whoever she was, however, had brought an entourage of her own in the form of a man who was asking Alexander to create a diversion. Truth be told Alexander wasn't sure he'd be able to cast a simply knockback jinx in the state of mind he was in yet he nodded, forcing saliva to form in his mouth.

More people had arrived, some on rooftops but the majority stood behind Blood. Even looking at the werewolf made Alexander want to curl up and die. Most said the fear that Blood exerted was nothing compared to that of the darkness felt when Lord Voldemort had been around but Alexander was finding that hard to believe.

'After you.' Alexander muttered back to the man out of the corner of his lips, not exactly sure how to make a diversion. There wasn't any time to be creative and think on his feet, he'd have to copy the man his senior and try and get out of this mess alive even if it mean't throwing the lady in front of them away as a sacrifice. They'd come to his rescue but rescuing them at the risk of his own life wasn't something he was going to do.

Marcus looked at the young man, and immediately he recognized the face. Oh, yeah. That's...whats-his-name....From the Ministry, Marcus thought.  The boy looked a bit like a frightened jackrabbit at the moment. He saw the young man was a bit rooted in his tracks.  Well, no fault of his.  He didn't recall that this man had been necessarily trained as an auror. 

Even aurors were frightened of James. Most people in their right minds were frightened of James. He was right to be afraid. Marcus wasn't pleasantly surprised to see Blood either.  He'd fought James more times than he wanted to count.  But the young man was out of ideas. Marcus was betting that if the young man had ideas, running was at the top of the list

"Eyes!" he shouted to Khaat, a cue he'd taught her to help her anticipate his moves. He saw her shield her eyes as he fired right in James' direction. "Lumos Maxima!"

He heard the werewolves scream in pain, and saw them instantly move to cover their eyes. He reached and grasped onto Khaat, dragging her back towards him to get her out of James' reach. She stumbled on those stupid high heels she insisted on wearing. She started to fall, and he only had one arm to put under her shoulder. He was not going to lower his wand from having it aimed straight at James's chest.


He was hoping this lad had some moxy to him.  Either help me catch her or fire something, throw something, do something, Marcus thought.

Alexander shut his eyes tight at the last minute, just as he'd processed the incantation that had escaped Marcus' mouth. Light filtered through his eyelids but it didn't blind him, it was simply as though the sunlight was seeping around closed curtains in the morning. Opening his eyes, however, Alexander realised that wasn't the soft sensation the members of James Blood's had received. Some of them were cowing from the light, others rubbing their eyes in pain and one even stumbled backwards off the roof and fell into Knockturn Alley the otherside. Alexander hoped his fall would attract more attention, draw more witches and wizards to the scene taking place before his eyes.

The woman stumbled back herself. He recognised her face, she had been all over the Daily Prophet about a year ago thanks to the werewolf further down the alley. His own mother had been the person to write up the exclusive interview. This was Khaat Lupin and for whatever reason she'd decided to save him. Great. Not only was his own neck on the line but now he had wizarding royalty on his neck. If anything happened to her he would end up with the blame whether her asked her to help him or not.

'Stupefy.' Alexander called out, choosing to hit another werewolf atop of a nearby wall who fell off and crashed into another.

'Stupefy!' He called again, this time aiming at James Blood who, once again, was granted the pleasure of not needing to dodge the spell for Alexander's shaking hand had reduced his accuracy and instead the spell shattered a shop window.

'We need to go! We need to apparate away.' Alexander shouted out as he rushed to help Marcus Butler hold Khaat Lupin up.

'Salvia Hexia.' He called again, this time creating a shield between them and the werewolves. It would stop any jinxes and curses from passing through the space between them but it wouldn't keep the werewolves out physically, nor would it stop them from launching any objects through.

'Lets go.' Alexander urged, wanting to be as far away from this situation as possible.

Nice. The young man was indeed made of better stuff. He'd fired a couple of nice stupefys and a decent shield. And, by virtue that they both had hold of Khaat, Marcus wasn't going to waste another moment. He apparated out of Knockturn to the very first place that entered his mind.


Her office at St. Mungos.  It was silent here, at least for a few seconds until the enchantment spells that protected the room sent out shrieking alarms.


"Oops," Marcus said.  He flicked his wand, shutting off the alarms. Making sure she was finally steady on her feet, he let go of Khaat, knowing she was safe here.  


"Well done," he looked at the young man, meaning it. "Not many people face James Blood and live to tell it. Those are singular numbers, you know."


"Especially when he's hunting," Khaat said quietly.  She walked over to the credenza behind her desk, where a silver tray held a few crystal decanters of liquor.  She looked at the young man and figured he'd outgrown pumpkin juice at least a couple years ago.


"Drink?" she asked him.  She poured a firewhiskey for Marcus and herself. She didn't know his name, but she preferred to deal with first things first. And right now, steadying everyone's nerves seemed more important.

Without warning Alexander felt his feet melting alway from beneath him as the familiar feeling of being sucked into a vacuum gushed through his body. Vomit was bubbling inside of him: Apparating when your stomachs already turning is never a good combination but thankfully, when the wizard felt his feet land steadily again, he managed to keep it down.

The elder wizard had taken Alexander to a place he'd never been before and to be frank Alexander wasn't entirely sure where he was. From the desk, the shelves, the filing cabinets and a sofa by the door he managed to draw the conclusion that he was in an office but where the boy didn't know, nor did he care at this point. All that mattered was that he had survived, had been rescued and was allowed to breath again. He could feel his heart slowing back to a healthier rate.

Accepting Khaat's offer of a drink Alexander grasped the glass once the drink had been poured and shot the whiskey in an instant then returning it to it's spot besides the bottle of fire whiskey. It had burnt the back of his throat, made him cringe and scrunch his eyes up but it helped. The alcohol trickled warmly down his throat and soothed him.

'Thank you.' Alexander gasped, wiping his mouth on the cuff of his robe. He wasn't just thanking Khaat for the drink but for everything she'd done for him that night. Their encounter was still in the early stages, the episode with Blood may have been brief but, for Alexander, it had been significant and he only hoped she understood that his thank you wasn't just for the comforting shot of whiskey.

Walking towards the sofa he allowed his body to collapse onto it. Then, after Alexander thought he'd kept it down, the boys entire body contracted, his stomach hurled, his shoulders hunched forward and there was a puddle of sick in between his feet on the floor.

It had clearly been too much.  James, the apparating, having the daylights scared out of him.  Khaat understood that feeling all too well.  She sat down on the couch with him and, using the only hand that still moved, she touched his forehead, casting a calming spell, to calm both his nerves and his stomach just a bit, while Marcus cast a spell to clean up the mess on the floor.


"Breathe," Marcus told the boy quietly.  "Deep breath in, and exhale slowly.  You might need to do it a few times. It helps."

Since he'd lost his first drink on the carpet, Marcus poured him another and set it down on the end table beside him.  He knew he and Khaat both had the same question. James hadn't been hunting for months. How did this lad end up in a face off with one of the most dangerous mass murderers in the wizarding world?


"We're safe here," Khaat told him. "We're in my office at St. Mungo's. I'm Khaat Lupin, and this is Marcus Belby."


Marcus found a patch kit in one of the cabinets in her office and wrapped her paralyzed hand, the one she'd purposely cut to lure James to her instead of the boy.  They'd have one of the healers see to it later. It wasn't a serious thing, but it did threaten to make a rather large mess on her clothes.

"Take a moment for yourself," she told the young man quietly. "And then tell me your name and how you ended up in that situation tonight."