November 10, 2008
11:15 am

The registration packet was like a brick in his soft, leather briefcase.  Not only was it nearly 35 pages deep, not including all the How-To's and These-Are-The-Rules-Now's documents he'd left at home, which was another pile in itself.  Not only that, but it weighed of an invasion of privacy.  A giant admission of a massive life change.  A documentation of his curse.

He paused outside the Werewolf Registry office, which looked like it had gotten a face lift.  There was a poster of people smiling and hugging each other, with a message about the benefits of registration.  He scratched his chin and took out his watch.  He'd been greeted warmly in the Atrium.  After all, he hadn't been into the office (the Wizengamot offices) since mid October.  But his absence might not have been notable in itself.  Wizengamot Elders often held other jobs, or worked from home.  Their job mostly consisted of reading and writing a great deal, in addition to meetings, briefings and conferences.  And as a Junior Elder (an Elder in their first 10 years of service), Knox's courseload had been relatively light so that he could study Magical Law.  But a month is a fairly long time not to show your face.  Especially when your absence is heralded by an article about a werewolf attack.

So there had certainly been rumors.  But there always were after a werewolf sighting.  And of course, St. Mungo's was airtight. So this, his visit to the Werewolf Registry would be the proof.

He clicked his pocketwatch shut and looked inside.  He tried a smile on and strode in.

"Morning.  How are we today?" he asked the witch amicably.

"Quite lovely, sir, and yourself?" Tabitha answered automatically, her back turned away from her desk as she lodged a slim scrap of parchment into an already overfilled manila folder in their archaic system of steel gray cabinets.  The corner she held in one hand crumpled, and already impatient with the entire drawer, Tabitha simply wedged it in further. 

She turned around, and was taken aback to see her former headmaster.  "Good Morning, Hea--Mr. Greyfriar," she greeted him, smiling brightly.  It was good to see him, even if the new prefix was foreign on her tongue. "What brings you round to my corner, today?"  She eyed his briefcase curiously, then flit her gaze back to his hairy expression.  The last she had heard of him, he had successfully made it to Junior Elder of the Wizenmagot.  It was quite a feat and she was rather proud of her old headmaster.  There was that dreadful business in Hogsmeade of course, but he had come out alright.  Hadn't he?

Except the paper had suggested one was affected.  None of those mentioned in the paper had come by the registry, at least not lately.  And if another student, poor thing, had been affected, Hogwarts and the Registry had become a great deal better at shushing things up.  She frowned slightly. "The article--You said in the article that you were fine. Direct quote," she spoke pointedly.

As soon as the clerk spoke, Knox recognized her.  It was Tabitha Williamson.  If he remembered correctly, she'd been among his first class of first years when he'd just began as the History of Magic professor at Hogwarts.  Goodness, that seemed like ages ago.  It seemed even longer now that he saw she was a grown witch. 

But then there - that accusing tone.  He grimaced and raised an eyebrow.  "I am fine," he insisted just as pointedly.

"Fine, save a nasty bite, I suppose.  I hope you can forgive an out-and-out lie to a nosy reporter," he said, with softer edges to his tone.  His left arm was lightly bandaged under his sleeve, and he'd been very tired and was only just now feeling somewhat sunny.  But he knew that as the moon waxed and waxed in the coming week, he'd feel sick again.  He knew he'd get used to it, but everything he's heard said the first few cycles were torture.

He sighed.  "Pardon me if I'm a bit new at this," he said and unceremoniously reached into his bag, pulled out the large envelope and dumped it unceremoniously on her desk.

He'd hated filling it out.  He'd hated the idea of filling it out.  He knew that the Registry felt it was working in his best interest, and the best interest of the community.  But there was no going back.  The more you gave the Ministry the less of yourself you had.  And right now, today, he hated the paperwork more than the curse.

Covadonga had been right around behind the Registry, back in the Remus Lupin Resource Library, when she heard a familiar voice grumble along in front of Tabitha.  Quietly she watched the two, a scroll of parchment dangling, quite forgotten and forlorn, in her long fingers, the start of what would soon become a large pile of paperwork for Mrs. Vagabond later that day.

“Everybody starts out as new Elder Greyfriar,” the witch rounded the corner, watching the wizard’s body language carefully as he plopped the parchment in front of her clerk, more out of habit than a strict observation.  Indeed, on this plane of existence no one was born a werewolf.

Fauna was right, he was a bit more “scraggly” (to use her word) than usual, but even in all his gruffness it hardly seemed to make a dent in his teddy bear exterior.  Rolling the scroll in her hands back up she added with a short sort of grin, “And thank you for filling everything out.  I know it is a pain…”  Truly, she did.  Before the new edition went through she made herself fill it herself (a number of times for each version, actually), and thanks to that she had been able to shorter it considerably if one looked back at its predecessors.  It was doable.  A bloody pain in the arse, but doable.  All the information it asked was necessary and required for the RCMC to adequately and efficiently do its job.

“In doing so you have opened a whole host of new resources to you,” another great truth since Marcus pushed the bills to the front of things.  Most of them (since the bills were not technically laws yet) were in a sort of “trial period” and not mentioned in the brochures and extra information delivered to the werewolf upon notification of infection.

Tabitha and Covadonga were both so sincere, Knox almost felt he could trust the We're Here For You public image of the Registry.  But the history of this office was hard to ignore, as was the paperwork that invaded his life when all he wanted right now was to deal with it privately.  Never before had the personal sacrifices for the sake of public safety nested so close to home.  At least the Healers had stopped bothering him, and Tamis Raynor had little more need for him in the investigation into the attack. 

So now it was just paperwork.

And there seemed to be more of it.  Around the Registry were friendly little banks of pamphlets, and informational fliers about support groups for werewolves and families, employer relations, classes on magic werewolves found useful, and there was even a couple of small chairs off in the corner with some brightly colored books.  Seeing the children's section made him stand up straighter.  Smaller, weaker beings were dealing with exactly the same thing he was.  Perhaps a more resiliant attitude was in order.

"It's good to see you, Covadonga," he said at last, and even offered a sincere smile to Tabitha.  "What have you got for me?  How's this first round supposed to go?"

Taking a deep breath the Department Head started off as clearly and evenly as possible,  “Your information will be processed through the Registry and name, address, occupation, and other information you have supplied will be added, but will remain within the RCMC and inaccessible to employers,” a new law which had been processed through before the big revamp, “even those employers who have applied to be on our List of Lycan Friendly Employers do not have permission to access it,” also new, “but the complete List is available behind us in the RL2,” ah, a codename Knox wouldn’t understand, so the witch quickly added,  “the Remus Lupin Resource Library, though we have a pamphlet of the employers most popular after extensive statistic research which was updated just a month ago.”

Slowing down for a breath she mentioned, “Though I doubt you will need it.”  The only reason the Wizengamot would not have Elder Greyfriar on its roster would be if the man resigned.

Inhaling deeply once again she continued.  “Also, we have a Mentorship program, each decade of age represented by infected advisors,” also new, “I am compelled to mention that one of your former students was one of the first to apply, Miss Olivia Foley, though she works mostly with the children,” that actually happened a few months ago when she mentioned the idea of the program to the young lady, so it was only newish, “though I doubt she would be disinclined to aid you in the process.”  Oh that would be a funny dynamic!  Little Ollie being the “Big Sister” to Mr. Greyfriar.

“New dispensaries for Wolfsbane have been established across the country, as well as Safe Houses, the closest to you would probably be here so you could come right from work.  We have both a Dispensary and Safe Rooms down the hall,” which reminded her that she had to fill in for the next full moon for the Head of the Werewolf Wing as recompense for her extended trip to Africa, “complete with a few amenities,” such as special clothes which shrink and expand to accommodate transformation and a rather protein-heavy dinner and breakfast for the before and after cravings of transformation amongst others, “no charge applied.”  A number of donors had made sure of that, mostly wealthy parents of werewolves, though Covadonga was the biggest of them all, which she would never admit.  Most of the supporters of the new programs were listed as anonymous to prevent any backlash as an annual seminar was in the works for werewolves and sympathizers were a program would be handed out listing the donors, so there was a possibility that someone from the Prophet got a hold of it.  “A journal is also published every three months filled with research being done on lycanthropy, a list of classes and seminars which you can attend with speakers and advocates from around the world, (ranging from information from scientific advances in progress since the research mentioned in the journal are only included if there is a conclusion to basic How-To’s for those who do not wish to sign up for the Mentor Program and go it alone) and medical studies you can volunteer for, though all those options are up to you.”

Along with the annual seminar and “get-together” in the works was also a program being formed for installing Safe Houses in the homes of werewolves… but the end of that was a long way off.  Covi was still stuck on figuring out how to finance it, so the witch left that all out.

With all that the Department Head very nearly collapsed to the floor, but was able to lean against the desk instead.  “Mind… you…” she huffed, “there are… some other things…” she wheezed, “but I… need a moment…”

Tabitha gave her the large man a soft smile in return.  There was the old bark that she loved so much.  He was still fairly much the same, although perhaps a bit hairier.  He made her feel like an optimistic young student again.  She took the stack of parchment from him as Department Head Gertrudis stepped in.  Of course, Greyfriar was a high-profile case, even while he was denying his condition.  And it was a condition, something that she firmly believed could be controlled and eventually cured.  It broke her heart to see so many afflicted, but at least they were seeking help.  She knew how much pride it took to enter their facility, and Tabitha tried to always treat them as normally as possible. 

With Greyfriar, however, she was less worried.  Despite his softness with the students, he was not a man easily trifled with.  One might say that he was the one afflicting lycanthropy, or so Tabitha hoped.  As Gertrudis outlined the many programs available through the registry, she opened a new file for Greyfriar, slipping the packet within its fold. 

The detail to which Gertrudis outlined the program still managed to dazzle Tabitha.  This was the kind of woman she wanted to be: cool, calm, collected, graceful even in absentmindedness and always well-articulated.  To be working under Gertrudis, even in such a limited degree as within the Registry, was one of the first steps to her dream.  Throughout the listing, Tabitha pulled out various pamphlets from the rack on the desk.  Mentoring, check.  RL, check. And a copy of the journal. 

As the illustrious Department Head ran out of breath, Tabitha gave her a concerned look, lightly touching the woman's shoulder as she leaned against the desk.  "You can also owl us, day or night, if you have any issues."

Covadonga Gertudis launched into more information than Knox had hoped for.  He listend with arms crossed, nodding.  He tried to keep a nuetral expression as each opportunity offered reminded him that he was in need of it.  However, he made no attempt to hide how impressed he was.  Clearly, this new Registry was no smoke screen - it had become the swaddling baby of Covadonga who seemed to have thought of everything.  Every program rang clearly of her influence and care.  She was a flurry of exhuberance and compassion and brilliant effectivity and efficiency. 

When he glanced over at Miss Williamson she looked as awed and proud as he felt.  She always had a very cheerful, comforting smile and he smiled back.

When Covadonga finally finished, Knox felt exhuasted as well and looked down at his hands, now filled with tri-fold pamphlets and billets.  He laughed loudly at Covadonga's breathless conclusion and he reached out to clasp her on the shoulder.

"Well done, Madam! Well done all around.  I'm truly impressed," he said honestly.  "You've done some wonderful things here."

He looked over at Tabitha.  "I'm honestly pretty surprised.  I'm glad for the confidentiality."

With his orientation nearly complete, or so he thought, he took a seat in one of the chairs nearby.  "So I shall just check in Thursday evening?"  This question came with veiled apprehension.

Knox was well aware of the technical descriptions of werewolf transformation, he knew well the itemized list of symptoms, the common descriptors.  The durations and the specific effects of certain types of Wolfsbane potions.  He'd even seen two live transformations in person.  But thinking about it happening to him, his own body changing, losing his mind every lunar month.  He wasn't sure there was any way to prepare for it.  And secretly he was worried he wouldn't endure it well.  As much as he wanted someone there, he wanted the experience to be private.

When she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, Covadonga carefully controlled a flinch.  Human touch was always a bit awkward to her, and even at her age (goodness gracious… she’d be turning 30 this month!) it was still something she had yet to grow accustomed to.  Nevertheless, she had avoided automatically shying away.  Not knowing quite what to do, Covi settled for turning her head and gratefully grinning.

Her eyes widened when Knox’s big paw landed on her other shoulder.  It took a great deal more control to not balk.  Quietly she steeled herself by imagining it was just one of her larger dogs trying to put their mitts on her shoulders.  This widened her mere grin into a full-blown smile as she recovered her breath and straightened her posture.

”You’ve done some wonderful things here.”

“Ah, but this is only the beginning,” she replied with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.  Besides the Safe-House program and the annual gala, there was a Tutoring center in the works for children like Ollie who had been forced out of school.  Honestly… Covi had hoped she would never have to use it, but it seemed like a necessity now, at least until she could get a law passed to protect werewolves from discrimination.

“And yes, preferably a couple hours before sundown if you would like to join the others for dinner,”  with an inquisitive look she asked, “are you a vegetarian or a more carnivorous type?” she liked to collect this information beforehand so she could give the chefs time to prepare an accurate number of dishes.  “Also, we have breakfast, but that is a bit less formal so you can choose what you wish and whatever amount,” a buffet, to be precise, “in addition there will be a survey to fill out if you wish, we are trying to polish things up before everything is official announced to the general public,” namely the Prophet. 

All the programs she had spoken of were already released to specific small time magazines and Magizoological journals, but eventually… regretfully, Covadonga knew she would have to sit down for an interview for the Prophet.  Preferably Niobe Thursby.  Despite the trouble she had gotten into, after their meeting at St. Mungo’s she trusted her more than any other reporter she had come across.  She kept to the facts and her opinions to herself.

“Oh, and would you like someone with you or be left to yourself?”  A first time transformation was often very confusing and frightening, but with Wolfsbane they were more docile and able to be calmed down and soothed with a good technician nearby.

"Tabitha!" A shrill voice called from further back within the registry.  As much face-time as she wished to have with the Department Head, Tabitha knew her responsibilities laid with her supervisor.  There was still tons of paperwork to verify, as well as to discuss the requirements for sponsoring a safe house.  Owls were coming in daily, and it was left to herself and the other clerks to maintain the registry's reputation for rapid correspondence.

"If you'd like," she said quickly, "I'd be happy to stay with you.  Regardless," she paused, not certain how to word her farewell under the circumstances, "Stay well," she ended soberly, giving him a kind look.  "If you'll excuse me," she said softly, nodding to Gertrudis before she scurried off towards the back.  It was just as she expected.  Owls.  With a sigh, she settled down at the ink-stained desk and began to write.

Knox felt some relief when young Tabitha was called to the back and she left he and Covadonga alone.  He bid her farewell pleasantly. Covadonga's latest line of questions had left him feeling suddenly overwhelmed.  What kind of meal he'd like before? Who'd be with him? Breakfast?  He turned his back on the small but dependable witch and sat down in a chair near the wall. 

He scratched his beard and looked around.  They were simple questions.  But he didn't want dinner, or breakfast, or to be seen by other people.  He didn't want to be looked after by a technitian or fill out a customer service survey.  He didn't want to diminish the importance of those resources for others, but Knox wasn't sure about them.  He didn't want that kind of attention.

As he sat in those few moments, his expression darkened, trying to decide how to respond.  Feeling, for the first time ever, that he knew why a werewolf might walk right back out this door and never come back.  Despite the good intentions and the support and saftey the Registry provided, Knox was too petrified to face all of this.  He was used to being independent and strong.  If he lost control it was by losing his temper and shouting too much.  He didn't like being cared for or provided for.  He didn't like to be seen in a vulnerable position.

He was embarassed by the questions. 

He scratched his beard again and looked at Covadonga.  His expression was less enthusiastic.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to be alone."

Covadonga smiled and nodded as Tabitha left, her mask hiding a furrowed brow and a disapproving look.  She knew that the clerk was not qualified to be in the room per say as a tech, maybe roam the halls of the Safe Room or maybe volunteer during the meals.  If she was good at the Patronus Charm the most she could do during the moonlit hours was alert the spare techs and the Capture Faction in HQ if something went awry.  Her offer of assistance was adorable, though.

Watching the Elder take a seat with a calm quietness around her, after a moment she cast a strong Disillusionment Charm to hide the two of them from those around him with an equally strong accent.   No one would see them, regardless of species, even the werewolves by scent.  It was one which she had used often when Wrangling or reassuring overstimulated animals.

She could read his body language like an open book, he was bloody well terrified, and there was a tinge of emotion she had encountered often by the newly infected, once which made her blood boil.  Clenching her fists once and sighing, she ran her fingers through her hair and approached the former Headmaster.  To him he would always be a professor, though, even if she had never been a student of his.  Her late brother’s niece and nephew before the war had been and spoken well of him often despite their House’s aversion to him--Slytherins like all her mother’s side of the family and her last wholly surviving brother with mind intact.

With a nearly ethereal presence and a calming grin she gently approached the man, taking a seat next to next to him, taking care to be a few inches away from him.  The small witch began to speak in a low even tone, nearly hushed as she began to explain.

“During your first time, your subconscious will be wholly present; you will remember those you know even though you may not be able to identify names.  You will be able to respond expressively to your own.  Your conscious mind, however, will be reduced to an infantile state…” with a slight chuckle she admitted, “quite like a puppy in fact under the Wolfsbane.  Overall you will feel overwhelmed with the sense of, ‘I want my Mum’,” that was as laymen’s terms as she could get.  Later she would be quite proud of herself for it, but this was neither the time nor the place.

“Knox,” Covi started, possibly colloquially using his given name the first time, “with assistance the transformation will go more smoothly… all of our staff have a calming, near motherly presence, despite gender,” like therapists some people preferred female to male or vice versa.  “There is another option to pair you with another werewolf, one who has been taking the potion for years and understands the pain and confusion you will endure the first few times,” yes, there would be pain, she will not beat about the bush.  There were a few experimental analgesics available which could cut the pain dramatically, but it was not recommended for first years.  “If you wish to protect your identity a Disillusionment Charm like the one I have performed will be done.  If you wish to partake in the meals but not with the others they can be brought to you in your Safe Room.”

At this point she hesitated.  With any other animal she knew what needed to happen next, but… this was a human.  Granted, he was infected with lycanthropy so in his primal mind he would appreciate it, yet… how would his species-specific side feel?  Well, he was still a mammal.

She made her choice; one which she hoped was the right one, and gingerly placed her hand on top of his.  The young witch waited for his reaction before pressing on, her voice even more soothing and quiet, just for him, “It will be OK.  Everything is going to be alright.”  They were the magic words she had learned through much trial and error and experimentation, ones she knew those who found themselves in this situation wanted to desperately hear.   With a hopeful glance she waited to see if he was the same.

With great control she allowed the anger she felt earlier leak through her mask to her eyes and a slightly sterner tone.  “However… if I ever get a whiff of the shame I witnessed just now…” a pause.  Covi could not find a way to politely put into words what consequences the man may endure.  Closing her eyes she took a deep breath and gave his paw an encouraging squeeze.  “It is like being ashamed of catching the pox,” or any other disease for that matter.

After a moment of silence she finally added one last thought, “You are not weak.  This will make you stronger than you have ever been… if you let it.”

Knox looked over at Covadonga patiently when she joined him in the chairs.  His expression was level and tolerant.  As she began to describe the process he'd listen.  It was something he'd heard before, read before, even seen before on two occasions.  He knew she was trying to make him feel better, feel more prepared.  She told the old tired narrative with gentleness and compassion.  Her experience as a counselor, as a witch in her position showed. 

But then she used his first name.  He used hers often, but most people in his life always seemed more comfortable with his image as Mr or Headmaster or Professor, and now, Elder.  Perhaps as others had so long defined him, he had too.  So few people called him Knox.  He looked at her, brows furrowed.  Not offended.  Not invaded, but the familiar address seemed to loosen the screws holding down the pressure below.

He looked away from her wearily as she pressed and pressed about assisstence during the transformation.  About staff and a mothering sort of presence.  It was the second time she'd mentioned mothers and the second time he'd resented the idea.  He didn't need a mother - he needed to be left alone and given time to handle this on his own.  Knox was independent and hadn't relied on anyone, including his mother, for a very long time.  He'd always been independent and had measured his success by solving his own problems and not burdening others.  But so far that seems to be all that had happened.  He'd been targetted and it had almost cost the lives of his students, of his friend Vlad Dragulia. Fauna and Sasha had been clearly traumatized by the incident.  Darcy's trial was likely to be affected just by the fact that he sat on her court.  The last thing he wanted was to flamboyantly display his turning to some on-looker.

When her hand touched his, the screws loosened even more, nearly to breaking.  That compassionate, understanding touch seemed to draw up the intense pent-up emotions.  His chest rose and fell in hard breaths and he kept his eyes firmly affixed on the space in front of him. 

He wanted to get up and offer some excuse to leave. Invent some meeting.  A hair appointment.  A kettle on the stove.  But the lie would disappoint them both.

"I am not ashamed," he insisted.  And it was mostly true.  He was not afraid of people knowing.  He was afraid of people seeing him, seeing his vulnerability, his lack of control.  He was afraid that what had happened to him would keep hurting others.

"I'm not ashamed.  I just not ready for any of this.  I need to do this alone."

"For now," he added, hoping it would give her enough to leave him be about it.

She was close, deadly close, and she could tell.  Watching him as he spoke she began to understand that it truly wasn’t the disease itself that terrified him.  His mind was far too scientific for that.  Then… what was it?  Something was still wrong, and Covadonga was hell-bent on finding out.

Taking her wand, she leaned over and touched the tip to the floor, making sure she still had a hold of Knox’s hand.  With an extra word and especially keen enunciation she cast an even stronger Disillusionment Charm and the world stopped… kind of.

The marble desk remained as did the floors and the columns and the bookcases from the library behind it, but all the people, everything that breathed and moved were gone.  Even the magicked books which twitched and fiddled within their designated spots left empty holes in their shelves.  The laughter of the children who had run down the hall to crash the meeting their father had been attending (a support group for parents) eerily faded.   The hustle and bustle of closing doors, stamping feet and raucous noises of the several creatures held within their walls in the main corridor of offices to the left ceased.  Every held quill and paper vanished; even the sundry Ministry notes zooming overhead disappeared in a lavender puff of smoke.

Everything, everyone… was gone.

It was a familiar scene to the now nearly 30 year old witch, who frequented the halls late at night, long after all her employees and visitors went home.  In its silence she felt comfort, the cold marble and stone giving off an indescribable warmth.  Sometimes she came in looking for information, other times she wandered around just straightening things up.  Reorganizing the library, recasting broken and worn spells on the chalkboards in the seminar and continuing education rooms, picking up papers, relining desks and chairs, restocking quills and ink.

On the floor, however, propped up against the end of one of the bookcases was a lone teddy bear,and  since he had not been actively moving when the spell was cast it did not apply to him.  He was the property of the little girl who had just ran by with her brother, his left eye nearly undone, threadbare, and patched together.  He was well-loved, but worn out.  Nevertheless, his happy grin was still clearly stitched under his scratched nose.

Covadonga Gertrudis needed one last thing to determine what would really be the best course of action for the Wizengamot Elder.  Just one thing to see if he could indeed take on this task alone, to fully understand where he was coming from.  She put her wand away after she carefully surveyed the area around them to see that the complex bit of magic had indeed taken hold. She looked once upon the toy on the floor.  Slowly she moved her second hand to the shoulder of the wizard before her, her voice conveying that what she was about to say next was neither a request nor a command, her eyes raised up to him.

“Knox… look at me.” 

When she moved with her wand again, Knox assumed he'd put her off and she was going to remove the Disillusionment Charm.  That she'd purse her lips and tell him something along the lines of the help was there when he needed it, or to have it your way, or to hope he would reconsider.

But instead, Gertrudis be-fogged them both even deeper in the quietest, cloudiest Disillusionment Charm he'd seen in a very long time.  And it was unwelcome. It was an unwanted embrace, and he perceived it as some sort of forced sedative.  She presumed far too much. The emotion that had been beating at his floodgates began to boil.  Boil at her incessant pressing, and her growing intrusion.

So when he did obey her, the look in his eyes was lethal.  His flat expression had turned to a dangerous scowl.

He got up swiftly, breaking eye contact with a growl and snap of his head.  His wand was out and slashed through the air, cutting the cool fogging enchantment in two.  It dissipated quickly.

"Too far, Gertrudis," he said hotly down at her.  "I'll follow the law and that should be the extent of your concern!  Your suggestions have been noted."