Legacy of Evil: Moon Madness 2 (Patreon)

I am Tom Riddle but at the same time, I am not. Nowhere was this more exemplified than my wand, which looked more like a worked bit of bone than what it actually was. Thirteen and a half inches, yew. Pheonix feather core. As I waved it to help me and Fenrir gather up the maple sap, I thought about the magic I would cast and the fact that I could do so with the wand, despite not being entirely Tom in personality. Unless of course, the merge ensured that we were for all purposes, one and the same in which case I huffed out and contemplated a bit more.

Tom was inordinately curious. He could had been a good fit for Ravenclaw if he wasn't who he was and honestly, I suppose the same could be said for me. I loved magic for its own sake in this world and understanding it would be the work of a lifetime which honestly, sounded pretty fun. But between the Scourers and Dumbledore, Canada was feeling just a bit more confining which was why I opted to travel with the Greyback caravan.

Besides, how many people could say they traveled with werewolves? It'd make a good story someday I felt, and I felt peace enter my heart with the simple act of tree tapping retrieval. Fenrir was a happy little worker, his father laughing to see him as we worked together. A few moments later, he spoke to me.

"I wanted to thank you for earlier." I felt uncomfortable at the praise and waved it off as I spoke. "I did what I felt was right. Er, I wanted to ask if it's fine. Your arm. Did you...?" The father looked off in the distance, somewhat lost in dark memories as he spoke quietly.

"I lost it long ago. During the war." I stiffened in surprise as he added. "Not on the wizarding side. Grindewald had been working hand in hand with the Third Reich true, but I was a squib you see. So, I enlisted in a no-maj battalion. Fought with them, ended up captured. I am obviously Romani." His smile turned sour. "I suspect you know my fate, yes?"

My blood ran cold. My hand gripped my wand a little tighter as he spoke on. "I was desperate then for anything, I would have made any bargain... And then one of our camp mates spoke to us. Said... It was close to the full moon. He would not survive, but he could ensure that we would." I was quiet now, listening as he spoke.

"He bit me, and others and together when the moon came, we overpowered our guards and made our way back. THEN, MACUSA noticed us." He laughed bitterly. "And so, we were moved from the mundane war structure to the fight against Grindewald. I lost many friends and kin, all for it to end when Albus Dumbledore finally fought." I could understand the resentment in his voice. From his perspective, it could had ended at any point... But it did not.

To say nothing of his time and I asked. "Why are you sharing this with me?" He shrugged. "You asked. Also, to establish credentials. Because when a man holds his wand like you do and seems hypersensitive to any noise, I get nervous. Especially when my son is involved." We glanced at each other, then over to Fenrir who was sneaking tastes of the sap. We pretended not to notice as I asked him quietly.

"Will your arm hold you back?"

He shrugged. Suddenly I had an idea and I spoke. "Mr.... Conan Greyback, was it? If I could give you back your arm, would you mind?" He stared at me, one eyebrow cocked and spoke.

"That would be incredible magic indeed. Considering that Healers had tried and failed."

I shrugged once and spoke, completely secure. "None of them were me." And I waved my wand, invoking the spell I KNEW that I knew, simply because it had been done before. Silver tendrils came from the tip of my wand, forming along the stump of Conan as he looked on in astonishment. As it formed a complete, working arm I held back my expression of smug satisfaction in favor of thankfulness.

And Conan felt more deserving of a new appendage than Wormtail any day. Or that particular Wormtail anyway. "How does it feel?" He looked at it, just at a loss for words. Around at that point, Fenrir spoke quietly. "Father?"

Conan turned to look at his son, who looked on shocked and his face a little sticky with stolen sap. Slowly, Conan knelt and absently, began to clean his face. His silver hand cupping Fenrir's cheek as he dabbed and wiped his mouth clean, sniffing once before he moved to embrace him. As he cried quietly, I looked away-uncomfortable and that was my doom as I suddenly was hugged tightly, and he spoke.

"I had not hugged my son in that way, since the loss of my arm... And his mother. Bless you. Thank you." He let go and I spoke, looking away.

"I could do it, so I did it. I don't really need a reason."

He stared at me, somber before he spoke earnestly. "You are a good man, Tom Riddle. Few would use such magic to help, fewer would help a werewolf. Whatever you are hiding from? You have our support and blessing." I stared at him and for a moment, I thought of Fenrir Greyback. I thought of the dark creatures rising, an army of monsters as they tore into people, other corpses still and cold as they laid on the ground from the Killing Curse.

Yes.

That's what I'm afraid of.

=====

We went back to dinner. I began to set up wards around the camp, more for my own peace of mind. Conan's new arm had been an instant hit and as a result, there was a party atmosphere in place that hadn't been there before. I had added my own food storage to the supplies and a few of the men had ventured out into the woods and returned, carrying a whole moose that was currently being roasted over a fire and prepared as a violin was tuned, music playing in the air.

I learned more about the caravan then, as person after person approached and introduced themselves. I learned for instance that the caravan was actually made up of five families traveling together. I also learned that there were more than a few offers, as pretty daughters flirted to my discomfort until Conan came to my rescue, laughing at me because of it. It was the most human contact I had ever had in three years, and a little overwhelming in truth which I suspected Conan knew and helped me for it.

There was only one wand among them, as many had either had their own snapped or destroyed the moment that they became werewolves or were associated with them. Remus Lupin in future I came to realize was a sign of progression, of Dumbledores work advocating for him and it was a bit of an eye opener at that. At least three-quarters of them were werewolves, the curse itself actually having a genetic signifier as children who had not been bitten would be born with it on occasion like Fenrir or the others.

The children in particular were playing tag, Fenrir throwing himself into it full throttle as he body slammed the other children into the snow, to laughter as he took it back in stride. I learned about what would happen when werewolves under the curse would mate, producing wolves with the intelligence of humans which further made me wonder.

Already, I was calculating a few ideas as to how to study this and couldn't wait till the full moon to discover if any of them were true... Whenever it was. I was in a very good mood and so of course, something came to ruin it. My alarms went off mentally, as I immediately leaped to my feet and looked around. Outside my wards, I could sense more and more wizards apperating in.

A lot of them. Only the paranoia I had in establishing protections had prevented a surprise attack and would keep the enemy at bay. I could feel the tell-tale pulse of a revellio spell activating and then I knew I didn't have time.

"We're under attack!" I cried out and the caravan all immediately looked shocked and then grim. This was no ambush on them unawares, but now pre-warned and ready to fight for their families. For the first time, I could believe that they were werewolves from the way they seemed to act. In the firelight, some of their eyes were beginning to glow and one of the girls who had flirted with me earlier, dancing to the violin was growling as Zev rose up and spoke to her.

"Rose. Take the children. Everyone else! To arms!"

They immediately moved out rapidly in a practiced motion. Rose strode to a wagon, opened up a chest and began guiding the children in, speaking swiftly and smiling to their fears. Others would be rushing to grab weapons, knives mostly, a few hatchets as one enterprising man took out a sling and began counting rocks before rushing towards the Thestrals with others.

Conan himself would be moving to his wagon home, reaching under it in a hidden compartment as he brought out an M1 Garand. With two hands now, cradling it under a silver arm he began to load it up, glancing at me as he grinned a wolfish smile.

"I could not use it before." He said simply. The sound of the bolt sliding back made him grin wider, as he rushed to position.

My wards began to crack. I cracked my neck and held my wand above my head as I vanished from view.

The wards shattered under the barrage of the group, the Scourers roaring as they rushed in and paused.

The camp was empty. Oliver felt a trickle of fear as he looked about, confused as the rest but also feeling a foreboding feeling in his stomach. With a growl, their leader brandished his wand as he cried out.

"SEARCH EVERYWHERE! THE BEASTS CAN'T HAD GONE FAR."

And then there was a sound of thunder, a noise that hurt his ears as a number of his companions suddenly exploded. And from under the snow, a screaming man with a silver arm rose up, a strange device in hand as it spat fire and killed by the droves.

And from the snow all around them, the rest of the camp attacked.

Spellfire cracked through the air, but their numbers worked against them. There were too many of them, spells hitting comrades and the beasts fought like savages. Oliver watched with horror as one of his masked comrades fell to four of them with knives, as they swarmed and stabbed till he stopped moving.

A ways away, another of the Scourers was suddenly plucked up, screaming as Oliver watched Thestrals blink into view. Atop their backs, more of the caravan would be riding them as they swooped down and tackled-slashed more of their number, as a rider with a slingshot swung and hit them.

Shield spells went up, as one of the Scourers tried to rally the rest, to fight back.

And suddenly, he was forcefully transformed into a barrel, which was then floated up and thrown at a group as it exploded into flames and shrapnel. Oliver stared in horror, turning to look at the one who had done it. It was him.

Framed by the firelight, wielding his wand like an extension of himself. His form seemed far larger, more twisted and in his wild terror, Oliver could almost imagine he saw two, red eyes glowing as ten random spells were blasted in the war veteran's direction.

It didn't matter, as the earth surged up and intercepted it, a moments worth of time where he was lost from sight. A bad idea as it turned out. A tree suddenly came alive and slammed its trunk down on a number of them. The fire would come to life, forming a serpent as it surged and opened its maw wide to swallow up the rest.

The war veteran was back again, metal spikes forming in midair as he flung them forward, impaling and flattening to form physical shields that orbited and intercepted spells as he blasted back. Simple, red cracks of magical energy gathered hitting like explosives, as the silver armed beast continued to use that awful machine.

One of the Scourers, seeing another get chopped with a hachet cursed and spoke. "Fuck this, I'm out!" And he vanished away. One after the other, the crack of apparition echoed as they fled, Oliver's leader roaring in anger.

"COME BACK! YOU COWARDS! IT'S ONLY ANIMALS, THEY'RE ONLY ANIMALS!"

Oliver realized he had overstayed his welcome and tried to vanish, only to freeze.

Anti-apperition charm. Done in the span of seconds by the man striding towards the leader as the beasts parted, eyes glowing like the gates of hell as Oliver shuddered and dropped his wand.

A circle had formed around the man and Oliver's companion, as he turned and stared. Hatefully, even through his mask as he hissed.

"You. I'll kill you! Avada Kedavera!"

The green beam surged and flew towards the war veteran, and then to Oliver's horror was redirected.

"Impossible." He whispered.

The man shrugged as he spoke lightly. "Its energy. Even if its magic, its still energy. From there, it honestly wasn't too hard to think of on those long nights for just this sort of occasion. Like if you're fighting some boy in a ruined courtyard and he hits you with an uno reverse."

He stared. The man chuckled.

"Sorry, you don't know what I'm talking about, and I hadn't nearly the patience or the crayons to inform you-" He absently blasted away another curse his way, stepping closer and closer. The beasts were silent, watching on and that more than the chaos before terrified Oliver now.

His boss was ranting, his body shaking with rage as he all but foamed at the mouth. "You think this is victory?! We're going to kill you! We're going to take your little beast friends and skin them, skin you-"

"And I'm all out of patience." The man declared, his pronouncement like a judgement as he spoke.

"Avada Kedavera."

The difference between the spells cast was like night and day. Like a green dawn had come, blinding and then his boss was dead. Oliver dropped his wand in terror again, his fingers fumbling as the man's eyes flicked to him. A second passed... Two.

Oliver whimpered and fled, as fast as his feet could carry him.

=====

The caravan cheered, despite the losses and as they all came to me, Conan thumped me on the back and cried out. "YOU ARE A GREAT WIZARD! TO BLOCK THE KILLING CURSE ITSELF!" He paused, seeing my sheepish expression as I spoke.

"Er... Not exactly." I had been inspired by Fawkes of all things, as I gestured over to where I had been standing. There, in the snow was a single canary-dead, after being summoned to take the hit. In the dark and with the bonfire behind me, it had hidden the fall of the bird, especially when I had cast without verbal components as I added.

"I was hoping to psych him out, when... Well, he said that. I didn't want this to happen again, so I decided to stop it right here and now."

Conan stared at the bird and then suddenly began to laugh. A laugh echoed by the rest as I had the breath knocked out of me from his embrace. With a beaming smile, he spoke.

"Welcome to the family! NOW I THINK WE WERE GOING TO HAVE A PARTY?!"

The cheers began and slowly, I found myself smiling. I was Tom Riddle, and yet I was not. Broad strokes, but different motivations and while I knew what I had done, I had no regrets.

And finally letting myself relax, I enjoyed myself with my newfound family. Apparently, there are some things you can't do together without somehow becoming friends.

Fighting off werewolf poachers is among them.