7 March 2012 at 9pm
One day before the Full Moon
Isolation Room 3, Werewolf Capture Unit
Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures

"Calm down!" The Werewolf Wing caretaker shouted through the small window in the enchanted door. "Just calm down! Good Merlin, stop!"

Inside, a thin woman with dark curly hair was on a tear, swearing in a stream of Greek. The view from inside was deliberately surreal - she stood on top of the gentle surf like a Biblical miracle, beating against a door that wasn't there, shouting through a tiny square into the outside world.[1]

Savvina Katopodis had been held at the Ministry for more than three months. She was considered a werewolf apprehended ex luna plenum, trapped in legal limbo because she was apprehended (or rescued, depending on how you looked at it) from the hands of Cinead Tawse by the Werewolf Capture Unit on the December full moon, on the night she'd killed three people. She was registered now and awaiting proper charges while the Department of Magical Law Enforcement attempted to piece together the full story. She resided in the custody of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement most of the time, but was moved to the Werewolf Wing in the day preceding the full moon, for their expert handling.

Savvina was patient, she was kind, she was resourceful, and above all she was remorseful. She'd even convinced herself that she was grateful. In her time, she'd accumulated some comforts and amenities. Slippers and dressing gown, and lotions for her hands. She was friendly with her caretakers, and they were friendly with her. But nothing in her life had prepared her for this waiting, this uncertainty, this utter lack of control. She'd been detained before, but never like this, never so long, never so permanently. The standing theory and Savvina's major protection and one of the MLE's best leads was that Tawse likely presumed her dead - there was no way they were going to jeopardize that.

"I only want to see the sun!" she wailed in her mother tongue. The coming full moon had her looking ill and ashen. "Please, let me out! You bastards, let me out. Please, just for one day! I won't run, I won't! I will die here! I will die here, I swear it! Let me out, you bastards! I only want to see the sun!"

She threw her things against the door. The chair, the pillow from the bed, the paperback someone had lent her. Now she had a pencil jammed in the little window to keep it from closing. Outside, one caretaker became two.

"That's Katopodis? What set her off," the second asked the first, baffled.

"No idea! I told her there was no owl post and she exploded. I'm not going to deal with this!"

1.	Further explanation of this room: 12 Dec 2012 - A Furry Little Problem

Nearly sixteen hours of the Worm Moon watch had come and gone, and all had been quiet in magical Britain.

It was a not-very-well-kept secret in the Werewolf Capture Unit that Kurby Bagnold hated the quiet full moons nearly as much as he did the tragic ones. The werewolf hunter had spent most of the day fidgeting away nervous energy: pacing in the Map Room on Level Two, checking in on patrols, anything he could do to avoid having to sit still and wait.

It had taken Ed Pratt showing up on Level Two as the volunteer lead for the overnight shift to finally convince Kurby to vacate his post. Three minutes and one indiscreet reference to Genevieve Garcia, and he was on his feet, letting the door slam behind him as he silently stalked out.

Level Four was quiet tonight. No one wanted to work late at the Ministry now once the full moon shift began, and the werewolf support staff wouldn't start trickling in until the next morning. Kurby had seized the emptiness as an opportunity to go check the wards in the werewolf cells, but now he was running out of ways to occupy himself and the adrenaline that had kept him on his feet all day was starting to run thin. The last thing he wanted to do, though, was to go back to his office and try to nap: there was such a thing as being too tired to sleep.

He'd been on the verge of just sucking it up and going back to Level Two when the noise from the Beast Division had started.  A few of the isolation rooms there, normally reserved for sick or injured creatures, had been adapted to hold werewolves who had become seemingly permanent occupants of the Ministry.

It was easy enough to follow the sound of the commotion. Kurby rounded the corner to find Jamilah Rashid and another Werewolf Wing employee that he only half-recognized, looking despondent at a door that seemed to be the source of the tumult.

"We're going to have to deal with this!" Rashid was hissing back at her coworker. "The only ones working on Level Two this late are the Aurors. There's no way any of them are coming down here for this!"

Kurby cleared his throat, loudly.

At the sound, both Werewolf Wing workers whirled around. They did not look happy to see him.

"We've got it under control, Bagnold," Rashid said a beat later, in a tone that did not intend to leave the question up to debate.

The werewolf hunter raised his eyebrows. Pointedly, he looked over at the window into the observation room, where the Greek werewolf from December seemed to be in the process of destroying everything physical that had been left with her on the moonlit beach.

Rashid gave him a blistering look. "Don't you dare," she snapped. "She's just upset. You would be too if you were stuck in here all this time! She doesn't need you bullying her the night before a full moon!"

Kurby had already started to unfasten the silver chain mail that was his usual uniform during a full moon. Wordlessly, he pulled it over his head and set it down carefully on a chair, and then unclipped the silver chain from his belt and set that down too.

These isolation chambers weren't really intended to be holding rooms for prisoners, and certainly not in the way of the cells on Level Two or Level Ten. The door didn't really keep anyone out so much as it kept the confined creature in. As Kurby approached it, he saw that something had been jammed in the little window to keep it from closing. He flicked his wand to vanish it; the window snapped shut.

"Bagnold!" Rashid fired after him.

Kurby glanced back at her, his expression impassive.

"Go find somebody to complain to," he said nicely, and opened the door to step inside.

---

It had been nearly three months since the first[1] and last[2] times he'd come face-to-face with Savvina Katopodis. Since then, Kurby had kept a careful eye on her during glancing encounters[3] when she'd been brought to Level Four for the full moon, but he'd mostly stayed clear. He'd offered what help he could to Harper, but he'd figured that any involvement beyond that was probably both unwise and unwelcome. Bruce had been less than thrilled[4] about his recent habit of requesting leniency for unregistered werewolves.

The werewolf hunter slipped into the cell, letting the door fade out of sight behind him. Even after leaving his mail and chain outside, there was still plenty of silver on him: there could be no mistaking what his purpose would be tonight if a call eventually came in. Even in the strange moonlight of the silent Petanoi beach, he probably still looked tired.

The last time he'd really gotten a good look at Katopodis, she'd still been a bit withdrawn and half-starved. She'd filled out a bit since then in the Ministry's custody, even if the full moon had her looking wan right now underneath her fury.

Three months was a considerable amount of time.

Silently, Kurby raised his eyebrows at her and waited.

1.	December 11, 2011 - Cold Moon
2.	December 21, 2011 - Unnatural Habitats
3.	January 9 - Never Trust a Monday
4.	December 23, 2011 - Be a Good Dog

The little window snapped closed, snapping the pencil into three pieces. The sound of the door unlatching sent her stepping backwards until the soles of her light-weight shoes found firm wet sand. When she saw who was coming through the door, she raised her hands to about shoulder level. Some of her long black hair was coming out of her ponytail. Her chest still rose and fell in shuddering breaths. There was anger and fear in her eyes.

It was the werewolf hunter called Bagnold who'd been all sternness and questions, a martyr in waiting. She had seen him in passing, but now that she was caught, what business did he have with her?

In Greek she explained herself, too upset to find her English.

"I do not care what you do! I am going crazy! The world thinks I am dead, so how should I care?"

There were silver rings on his fingers. She remembered those decorative threats. And while he came with empty hands, it took a wink to find a wand.

Katopodis was shouting at him in -- Greek? The werewolf hunter raised a cautious hand, his fingers spread, more with the intent to calm her than to warn her.

Werewolves were at their most dangerous just before a full moon. He'd learned that from a young age: the snarling, the fits of terrifying tempers, the readiness to snap and explode at any provocation. In his nearly twenty years with the Werewolf Capture Unit, Kurby had made it a point to never back down from a werewolf, especially in the lead up to the lunar cycle's apex. Showing weakness when they were still human made it all the more likely they'd try to take advantage when they were a beast.

There was something wild about the foreign werewolf, with her untamed hair and her furious expression. Kurby stayed still as she shouted, keeping his movements carefully controlled. A gently rumbling wave rolled over his boots from behind, racing up on the beach towards Katopodis.

 "Oi," he said, his expression cautious. "I'm just here to chat."

"Chat, chat, chat!" Savvina echoed. She was fed up with everyone in this country wanting a chat. Chat! A sharp word that sounded like a thorn in your foot. This man ,he'd wanted to chat before.[1]

"I do not want to chat, I want to go home," she cried in English, keeping her distance. Kurby Bagnold's calming hand did nothing to ease Savvina's anger. "You are not my friend. At night, you go home to your family but I stay here. You all think I will hurt someone or someone will hurt me, but I would not! Look! You're afraid of me right now!"

She dropped her arms to her sides, then gestured at herself in her grey uniform and soft shoes.

"What, do you think I will bite you?" She scoffed. "Mikrós mágos[2] with your pretty rings."

Truly, Savvina did not hate this wizard. He was no one to her. All of these people, they were nothing but locked doors who looked at her.

1.	"Mornin'," he said, his gaze locked on her.  "I reckoned you and I were overdue for a chat." - 21 Dec 2011 - Unnatural Habitat
2.	Greek - little wizard or magician

Raising his eyebrows, Kurby glanced silently around the strange beach. The space looked much the same as he remembered from his last visit, a calming habitat drawn from the foreign werewolf's memories. Gentle waves broke, rolled up the shore, and then receded again, as a full moon reflected off the water.

There were hints that not all was as it seemed: a standard twin bed sat further up on the sand, its bedding mangled and twisted. The rest of the furniture that had been moved here for Katopodis had been hurled about. An upturned chair had ended up near the water's edge, probably at the wall of the small room that housed them in reality; a pillow here, a book flung there.

He thought of Greer Grant and her little hole under the fairy hill, with Wendy the Werewolf books and the glowing stars on the ceiling.

"Force of habit," he said simply, glancing back at the werewolf. Deliberately, with controlled movements that were obviously intended not to startle, he stepped over to the upturn chair and picked it up, setting it carefully upright on the sand again.

Katopodis had been unregistered, but she'd also been a victim of Tawse. The situation had a conflicting gravity that was uncomfortable to weigh in his head: on one hand, it would have been very simple for something to go wrong and someone to get hurt, and that was very clearly what had happened. On the other, the werewolf had done her best to acquire wolfsbane and keep people safe. It hadn't been her fault that the enormous Scotsman had turned her into a weapon.

"I would've thought Level Two would've had you sorted by now," he admitted, putting one hand on the back of the chair as he looked back at her. "The Wizengamot's let other werewolves go home for less."

The man righted the chair. He made no move towards force, nor did he raise his voice, give any instructions, or make any demands. It was at the same time a relief and deeply unsettling. They both knew that ultimately, they were so deep inside of the government complex that there was little damage Savvina could do to anyone except herself and the massive decorum.

Her rage fell useless against the man's stillness, as if she hadn't said anything at all. She was unheard and well-handled. How could she be at the same time so dangerous and so powerless?

"I am not a citizen," she explained tightly, bitterly. "And I have no family here to notice I am missing. The world believes I am dead. Maybe I am."

That was her safety, someone had told her, that it was better if Tawse and everyone else did not look for her. Raizel Cohen, a childhood friend, had come to see her in January as a favor to an Auror, but Savvina believed she'd scared her off.[1] And she had not yet stood before the Wizengamot, although she knew her lawyer Harper Graves must have been speaking to them on her behalf.

1.	17 Jan 2012 - Yiyeh B'seder

Kurby stayed quiet, keeping his mouth carefully shut as he cast a glance across the quiet beach. This was the sort of place that could make anyone feel like they'd accidentally crossed through the Veil. The coastal landscape looked real, serene, with moonlight shining off the water and the crunch of wet sand under his boots. Nearby, palm trees swayed in a gentle breeze.

But he couldn't feel the breeze; he couldn't smell the salt in the air. As another wave ran up the beach behind him, rushing over his boots, his socks stayed perfectly dry inside. Even if this scene looked expansive, they were both still standing inside a ten foot by ten foot cell.

This sort of isolation cell was never meant to hold a person. There was nowhere else on Four to put someone like Katopodis, who'd been stuck in eternal limbo ever since he and his team had dragged her snarling form to the Ministry. She was in limbo between Magical Law Enforcement and the werewolf holding cells, shuffled between the two depending on the lunar cycle. It didn't help that her state of uncertainty was likely to endure for a while yet. It had taken from July to December before the Wizengamot had finally heard the case of Greer Grant.

Pausing, his dark gaze shifted back to the werewolf. Most of the Ministry assumed that Tawse had intended for her to die. He and Stacey Li were the only two who had reason to think differently: Katopodis had gotten her wolfsbane potion from Knox Greyfriar. That was substantially incriminating information that Katopodis might have traded to Two or Four for her freedom, but Kurby had cut her off from using that escape, too.

He took in a deep breath, then huffed it out again, tilting his head back to look up at the unreal stars. They were less visible tonight than they'd been the last time he'd stopped in, although that had been the early morning hours. Even here on this imaginary shore, the full moon threatened to blot out everything else.

"I have a mate who was sentenced to seven years in Azkaban a few years back," he said at last. Tensing the muscles in his neck, he glanced sidelong at Katopodis, regarding her casually. "He got out after three because he made a deal with the Ministry. He agreed to help out on something unrelated, and in return, Level Four pushed to drop his sentence to parole."

Savvina furrowed her brows, not understanding. She bowed her head and ran her fingers through her hair. This again.

"I have told you already," she breathed when she looked up again. "I do not remember what happened. I have given your people everything. No matter how you ask, I have been asked before. Don't you know that I would have told you by now if there was anything? No wants to remember more than I do."

At first, Savvina had tried every night. She'd sit on the edge of her bed and pray for a dream. Or when she could not sleep, she reached deep inside to become the wolf again and try to see what she'd seen. She'd searched her memory during questioning, she'd written down all the details of her life for Harper for any clues. And in all of these efforts, there had been nothing new save one thing. Her broken memory of Raizel Cohen in the park late in the fall that Raizel had rejected. It was so troubling, she hadn't told anyone about it.

"I should not be speaking to you," she said suddenly lifting her chin. She had a lawyer now and that she should not answer any questions without her present. Perhaps people like Bagnold and the Aurors did want to help her, but there was no way to truly know.

The werewolf hunter's expression grew slightly rueful, and he raised and dropped his shoulders in a shrug. While he didn't really care what the Werewolf Wing employees might say, or whether Bruce would snap at him when she dragged herself back into the office after the full moon, he did care about accidentally making Harper Graves' life more difficult. Even if the only times he interacted with the American defense attorney was when something had gone wrong involving werewolves, he respected and liked her enough that he didn't want to step on her toes. He should probably back off here and leave Katopodis alone for the night.

But something was still bothering him: both an uncomfortable sense of unfairness that Katopodis was still here, stuck in this disturbing cell after three months, and a sense that maybe there was something from her to glean after all. They had never identified the wizard who'd accompanied Tawse to the zoo and employed the strange, foreign anti-apparition ward. The Greek werewolf had told him that she recognized her kidnapper from school. The two weren't necessarily one and the same, but it seemed likely that whoever had abducted Katopodis had some sort of connection to Tawse.

Even if she couldn't truly remember, though, there might still be a way to use it to expedite the hearing process. The werewolf hunter paused, pressing his mouth tightly shut as he glanced to the side, at another wave running up the beach. Level Two had probably already taken into account how much Katopodis remembered and decided it wasn't worth offering her a plea deal. But Magical Law Enforcement wasn't the only department at the Ministry that might have reason to intervene in the case.

"You don't have to talk to me," he said after a beat, glancing back at her. "But if you do remember somethin' else, then Miss Graves can come back to Magical Law Enforcement and RCMC about it. It only takes one of our departments to petition the Wizengamot." He shrugged, glancing down the beach again at a slender palm tree swaying in the nonexistent warm breeze. "If you refuse to cooperate until you have a sentence in hand..."

He trailed off, mulling over the logistics of it silently. Bruce would probably hate him for even suggesting the idea; he suspected that his former mentor was just waiting for an excuse to call him soft again. He wouldn't be able to force a petition through without the Head of the Werewolf Wing's support, but he could probably swap her for something, like finally agreeing to attend Spectre's staff meetings. Pressuring for a deal might annoy someone on Two, but he cared even less about their opinions right now than he did those of the Werewolf Registry. Burning some political capital on this seemed like a fair price to pay.

When Savvina had first met Bagnold, she'd watched him carefully gleaning all she could about what kind of man he was and what he wanted from her. She'd determined him to be a guarded man, principled, and though he worked for the government wished to be independent. He wore his rings for all to see, he used magic others did not, he did not like prisoners to be flippant with him. In their short discussion she also found him not to be a liar.

High overhead in the nearby cosmos, the heavy moon glided towards fullness pulling both the tides and Savvina's cursed blood. It made it difficult to think or to feel things beyond anger. It had been easier to cope before when she could keep busy or bury her hands in Skýlos's thick tawny fur. But here she was alone with herself, easily ignored, ready to crack.

Bagnold acknowledged Savvina's rights but carried on with a lecture. Savvina threw her hands in the air then waved an open palm at Bagnold fingers splayed.

"Άντε! I am cooperating! I have refused you nothing! You know this."

She turned away from him now, pacing away to the edges the space would allow with her hand to her forehead.

"Go now. I don't want to see you. If you want to be useful, let me speak to Harper Graves."

Kurby regarded her wordlessly, his expression instantly guarded.

Katopodis had done nothing but cooperate. Maybe that was part of the problem -- she'd told them everything she knew, taken his warning about Greyfriar in stride, and answered every question that anyone had posed to her. The Ministry's slowly-moving justice system didn't have any reason to jostle forward any faster when the wix being ground through it had no family name, had no money, wasn't even a citizen here, and had nothing helpful to tell them.

But there wasn't any point in meddling further in it. Harper was far better equipped to deal with injustice like this than he was, and he'd already stepped too far outside his prescribed role. He could bring up something to Bruce once the full moon was over, assuming they all survived it, but that was the extent of it.

In the meanwhile, he had other responsibilities.

Finding his wand, the werewolf hunter silently summoned up the door, and then disappeared back into the observation area.

The door faded back out of sight in his wake, leaving nothing but ocean waves.