RP: I hate this war Date: May 31, 2006 Characters: Cass Location: The Aurors office Private/Public: Private Rating: G Warnings: None Summary: Cass is tired of working like this
Cass looked over the written report again, sighing as he made sure it was readable this time. It wasn't so much for Percy's abilities to read it, as Percy had long ago learnt to decipher his scrawl, but to make sure Percy wouldn't have to rewrite it to make it readable to Umbridge.
He sighed, not sure why she seemed so interested in this particular attack. Sure it was vicious and cruel, but so were all other attacks made by the Lestranges – and by Fenrir.
He looked through the eyewitness reports on the werewolf's actions. Even when not transformed that man was hideous. Possibly even more since he had his mind intact, though Cass suspected that maybe, just maybe, this was a werewolf who had his mind intact even when under the influence of the full moon.
He shuddered at the mere thought.
Finishing up the last he gave it another once over, the third for today, before closing it and rubbing his eyes. He hadn't slept properly since the survivors of the attack had started to pour into the village and he needed some rest. Still, this was the way he had to live while the war went on, and sadly, their attack on Upper Slaughter had not done much to keep the Death Eaters from attacking.
Even more sadly, Umbridge seemed to focus on the wrong things.
She ought to take hard actions against he Death Eaters. Push them now when they had no real base. Instead she was investigating the loyal ones, reading owls (his mother's, no doubt, as the owl had returned without a letter from her and some feathers out of place) and trying to prevent harmless (and terribly funny) radio shows. He sighed. He didn't like the thought of her knowing about his mother, and yet it was a reality he needed to face.
He hoped she'd understand when time came for interviews with her.
He looked down at the report again. Maybe this attack would change her outlook on things, make her see what was important. He could only hope, as that would be one good thing coming from it. Other than that he could only see what he always saw. Death, mayhem and grief.
Fuck, he hated this war. He hated it even as he closed the report and sent it off, knowing that in a short while it would be with the one person he did not like knowing his secret.