Hannah Bombay walked straight through the doors of Gringotts, with short slightly unsteady strides. This was the moment of truth, everything would go perfectly, rehearsed. The plan that had begun in August would finally come to fruition, although it appeared it would not need to be carried out until recently. She didn't speak to anyone she passed, but kept her gaze ahead, joining the short queue for the desk, looking ever so slightly irritated.

Around her, the goblins continued their daily routines, with a tinkle of gold coins being counted and weighed. They all sat on tall stools due to their short height, and had exceedingly long noses. Within minutes, Hannah was face to face with one who peered over the desk and narrowed its eyes at her. Werewolf, it was thinking.

"I need to make an international transfer." Hannah explained to the goblin, ignoring the way the creature looked at him. Her nimble healer hands slid across a piece of parchment, and the goblin's long fingers received it and keenly inspected it. Hannah knew it would all be in order, it had been prepared by an expert.

The goblin slid from its stool and disappeared, bringing back another goblin with it. In the meantime, Hannah's expression changed ever so slightly, watching the first goblin vanish, irritated at the initial delay. This was a simple enough request, and she knew the paperwork was in order.

"Can I see your wand, Miss Bombay?" The second goblin requested, he looked older, and Hannah slid her wand from her robes and presented it with an impatient frown. The goblin inspected it a moment and then fixed a keen, beetle-black gaze upon her.
"This is your old wand?"
"Yes." Hannah confirmed without hesitation. "It was recovered by the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes." She kept a level stare with the goblin, "I trust this is not an issue."

The goblin continued to stare, blinked and then shook his head, speaking in gobbledy-gook to the first goblin. It handed Hannah's wand over to her again, satisfied, and left the first one to continue the transaction. Within Hannah's stomach a knot that had been building loosened ever so slightly.

The first goblin set about with the paperwork, stopping to ask Hannah to confirm she was happy to make the transfer, and warned her that it would mean her vault was emptied.
"Yes, I am aware." She informed the creature smoothly, "I will make a deposit later today to cover my immediate needs." Satisfied the goblin gave a shrug and carried on with the paperwork, stamping and folding, and stamping again.

Hannah's eyes watched it work, eyes unmoving from the goblin's process, as if she were checking the goblin was doing the process correctly. After another minute, the goblin confirmed all would be correct and provided her with a receipt of the transaction.
"The funds will be transferred tonight, but we advise you make a deposit tonight before five o'clock."

Uttering thanks, Hannah headed to the door, keeping her footsteps steady. Just before the door she stumbled, catching her heel in her cloak. The clicking of her heels rang out across the marble and echoed in the vaulted ceiling. She didn't look round, but the goblin who served her glanced in her direction.

Free of the bank, Hannah made her way down the street before apparating from a convenient spot.

Wolfgang Storm stared at the body in the full length bedroom mirror. His associate had been good enough to lend him a set of keys for the house that day, under the guise that he was doing some work between meetings for the bank. He had no idea of the real reason for the request, nor that Wolfgang was stood in the man's bedroom, stark naked, staring at his body in the mirror. Probably for the best, all things considered.

It wasn't the nakedness that had Wolfgang's attention, but the scar on the arm. He was running fingertips over the scar, his mouth open slightly with disgust and also a lingering feeling of pain as he touched the red skin. Hannah Bombay's werewolf bite scar was horrific to see up close, and he was absolutely fascinated.

Before his eyes, the scar began to fade, and his dainty hands began to transform, fingers lengthening. His long, dark hair reduced, drawing upwards and his face began to lengthen and wrinkle, his torso lengthening, chest vanishing. It took a matter of minutes to see himself again - staring into the mirror and seeing not Hannah, but himself looking back. Two recent scars stretched across his cheek from just beneath his eye, the resulting wound from the attack in his own front room on January 5th. They were a constant reminder of what today was about.

He dressed once more in his own suit. The clothes he had worn as he was Hannah were laid on the bed in a neat pile beside his own. It was good to be back in his own clothes, and his own skin. The high heels had been enough of a worry - Bombay was short, and Wolfgang was not too rehearsed in wearing them. He had believed he was about to fall flat on his face and ruin the whole deception on his exit, but he'd managed to stay calm. The knowledge that this was the start of ruining her had kept his mind focused.

It had begun last August. While Wolfgang had been asking his son Johann about his relationship with Hannah Bombay in the Leaky Cauldron, events beyond his knowledge had been occurring for Bombay and her colleague over the full moon. The witch was not the respectable healer he had been led to believe, but a werewolf, and a criminal.

This revelation had not come to light until Wolfgang had made a visit to the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes in the following days. While he had been waiting to meet the Department Head to discuss the Tetra-wizard contingency plans, he had observed and overheard members of the Department bringing back boxes full of items recovered from a collapsed building, which had come down upon two werewolves.

With luck on his side, and distraction, Hannah's recovered wand had slid easily into his briefcase before the overworked intern had been able to write it up on items found. Later, a wizard who had found the wand would swear blind he'd seen it, but the Department would have to shrug its shoulders and assume the wand had perished in the accident.

Wolfgang had come face to face with Bombay by chance in early September, and had been unable to resist taking a pot at her in public. He had been very angry that the woman was in any way associated with his only son, and had been hoping she might lose her cool, cause a scene. She liked a fight, that was for sure, and he'd been rather excited (though disgusted) by her verbal parlay. Before he could try and further his advantage over her by adding her hair to his collection, his son had appeared and the situation had been dispersed to his disappointment.

No matter, the following months were quiet, and from what he could tell, Johann and Hannah were keeping their distance. Now he knew it was a combination of the arguments he'd caused, and Johann's abuse of sleeping potions. Still he'd kept the wand, hoping he might use it to dispose of her finally one day.

The announcement of the engagement in January had taken him by surprise, but his cold, calculated response with the dog's head had resulted in the tears to his face - from Bombay's human fingernails. After his wife had treated his face enough to stop the bleeding, Wolfgang had been overjoyed to find out in the struggle, a tuft of Hannah's hair had been pulled out. Either by him, or by his son wrestling his wife to be from his father.

In the days that followed he laid low, but worked quickly. The money transferred from Hannah's vault was on its way to an offshore account. The perks of being a senior manager in an international bank, he knew the loopholes and the easiest banks to set up dodgy deals with. The account for Rex Rover had been easy enough to set up, and the paperwork filed and prepared with his own experienced eye. That was how he knew he had the correct paperwork for the goblins at Gringotts, though the wand had been the only way to secure it. Even so, he'd been fearful the wand would not be accepted, and beneath the cloak he'd borrowed from his wife - short on her, but about the right length for Hannah, he had sweated, fearful.

It staggered him that he'd succeeded. Perhaps he hadn't.

He would only know when he checked Rover's account in the morning…

… and this was only the start.