Ambrose had just finished a vivid account of monsoon rains when the cavalry had arrived[1]. As Johann had been led from the Pepper house in Biggleswade (the back door this time, easier to disapparate) Tim had watched over the bannister rail, and Ambrose had trailed with the photo album clasped between his hands, both of them dismayed at the scene. Up until now, Johann supposed, he'd been perceived as a weird, but unthreatening family friend. As he'd vanished from their back garden, Francis had closed the back door, his face the least friendly he'd ever seen it.

The interview room on level two was anything but homely. He'd visited them before, and sat the side of the table he had now, to help translate when language got in the way of a successful interrogation for the aurors. But now he sat this side alone, forearms resting on the table top, ankles crossed beneath the chair. He had barely slept the past few days, if at all, and looked ill.

His coat had been taken away, the pockets emptied. From quills, scraps of parchment, receipts from book shops, empty sleeping potions bottles, headache potion, a used ticket from the Knight Bus, and a handful of galleons, it was a sorry assortment that had been meticulously recorded. His wand, 12 inches, ebony, dragon heartstring core that he'd had for almost 25 years had been confiscated with it. He hoped they also had his bag in custody as he'd fled from the scene without it.

Obediently, Johann went through the motions before the verbatis quill on the end of the table between them all.
"Johann Felix Storm, born 28th January 1976, current occupation, linguist with the Department of International Magical Co-operation, British Ministry of Magic. Currently of no fixed abode." He rubbed at his face and let out an uneasy sigh, raising his blue eyes to regard the figures the other side of the table, mouth dry.

1.	No Running That Can Hide You

It had been two days since Elixa had told Zeke about Johann's escape from St. Mungos. It had been two days since Zeke had gotten a decent night's rest, and two days since he'd had a hot meal. He swore to himself, that after his case was closed, he was going home to Derby, tear down that old tree house and sleep in the backyard until winter. He had the manila folder holding information on the case in front of him, with folders on Johann Storm stacked just to the right of him. On the far left, only a few mere centimeters from the edge of the table, was a cup of lukewarm coffee with sugar, in front of that, a verbatis quill and sheet of parchment.

Adon Eleor sat to his left.  From this side you could see the scars that plagued the man's face. How could a man just a year older than Zeke look like he'd lived a dozen lifetimes? Adon was a really charismatic guy, and a real treat to be around before he fell off the face of the earth. Zeke had worked a few cases with him in the few years that they'd known each other in the Corps, but now with his return from Israel, Zeke didn't know what the make of Eleor anymore. What Zeke did know, however, was that Adon was a good Auror, a doer, hardworking, and had a bit of a temper which reminded Zeke of himself in some scenarios.

Adon had also seen the crime scene the morning after.

The there was Johann Storm, sitting across the table from him. He'd been looking non-stop for the past fifty hours to find him, and they'd gotten a call from one Francis Pepper, who notified them that Storm was at his residence. Zeke volunteered to conduct the interview after the field guys picked him up , remembering his promise to Elixa about making sure Johann was safe. A warrant hadn't been filed for an arrest, so they mostly detained Storm for the time being for questioning. Once they returned to Level Two, they had Johann pull everything out of his pockets, noting he had enough vials and bottles to open his own potion shop. They then took his coat and his shoelaces.

Zeke had Johann wait in the interview room, or whatever they were calling it these days, and put all of Johann's things in a box and stored it in evidence lock up. He then remembered to send an owl to Elixa.

He's safe. Thanks for your help. ~Z

"Mr. Johann Storm, I am Auror Wingate, this is Auror Eleor." Zeke gestured to Adon, "State your name, age, occupation and current residence please." Zeke asked calmly and watched as the verbatis quill wrote down every word.

"Mr. Storm, I know this is a very personal and sensitive topic for you, but we have to conduct his interview to get a better picture of what happened on the night of July twenty-sixth."

This was a significant moment in the case--Adon felt it, and knew that if this was done right, they would come back to this moment in the investigation time and time again, particularly at court.

As required, Adon'd done his due diligence, following up with the Muggle victim--with a bit of a limp, and a harried mind.  A shoddy Obliviation job, but obviously performed by someone who had at least a rudimentary knowledge.  That was a puzzle in and of itself.  Adon had no doubt that the person responsible for the Obliviating would be the culprit of at least two or three significant charges. From what the Muggle had said, he'd cobbled together only a few details.  He'd been homeless--gone to sleep under an overhang on a building, had woken up with a dog of some sort snapping at him.  Something heavy fell.  Screams. A man had grabbed him.  Then Mungo's.  There were no particulars.  The man seemed neither tall nor short.  Neither young nor old.  But yes, he remembered a man.  He remembered a man quite clearly, pointing something, and a bright light.

The Ministry was chomping at the bit for the Muggle's final--and more thorough--Obliviation.  Still, some of the pressing immediacy of it all was alleviated by the fact that--however unfortunate for the Muggle, and however merciful for the Aurors--the Muggle'd been mauled by a werewolf, and would be obliged to spend at least one more month in limbo with the magical world--until it could be determined if he was a werewolf.  Thus far, Adon'd managed to stay the Obliviator's hands, but Adon hoped that this interview might identify some key players--that, if necessary, the Muggle could confirm with a positive identification.   Though what weight--if any--the word of a partially-Obliviated Muggle would hold in the evidentiary argument was questionable.  Still. It didn't hurt to be thorough.

Adon knew, truly, that this was their key witness to this case.  Johann was reasonable, responsible, respectable.  His word was considerable.  Adon also knew that the first telling of a story was the most critical.  While it could evolve and change during the course of an investigation (and it often did), these moments--the first contact with the authorities, were often where lies were formulated that would later need to be unravelled or, if one wanted to be overly optimistic, where the investigation determined its next steps.

Zeke seemed to have the situation well enough at hand.  Adon gave a slight nod at the introduction. Zeke and Adon were familiar, but had not worked out a natural pattern together. Though, with a witness like Johann, it probably paid dividends to favor the good-cop, good-cop routine.  After all, Johann'd initially run, but the fact that he was here by his own--or relatively his own--volition was considerable.

Once Johann had given the requisite personal detail, Adon gave a slight smile.  He'd done is research on Johann Storm.  Son of an influential German banker, close friends and former fiancee with one of Adon's own known associates, Hannah Bombay--now, quite notably, a werewolf, and also quite noticeably had failed to report.  Add to this that--as per the personnel file--he had lived with one Colin Downer, an unspeakable... and a werewolf , and one could reasonably deduce that he would not naturally approve of werewolf fighting.

What was also particularly fascinating about Johann Storm, though, was the position he currently found himself in.  It would appear that Johann had had a rather unfortunate experience as an informant before. Adon had read it from a case file the Aurors had had in Germany. In this instance, Johann--presumably with good intentions--had caught the Aurors unprepared and the events that followed had led to Johann coming--fleeing--to London.

Adon took a preparatory breath, knowing how he might want to proceed--to build off of Zeke's tone.  "We do appreciate you taking the opportunity of speaking with us," he started in his crispy accented English.  "Any information you can give will help us take action against the responsible parties.  Could you tell us how you first came to hear about the Werewolf fights?"

"Mr. Storm, I know this is a very personal and sensitive topic for you,"
"Johann, please..." The protest over the name was meek, but it felt essential. "Mr Storm" made him feel like he was being addressed as his father, or by an official. An auror was an official, but it would get tedious.
"...but we have to conduct this interview to get a better picture of what happened on the night of July twenty-sixth." Wingate explained. Johann recognised his name, knew the face. He had a feeling he'd been one of the aurors involved with his apothecary friend during an incident at St Mungo's a while back. He had a pretty face, largely untouched in comparison to his partner.

"We do appreciate you taking the opportunity of speaking with us. Any information you can give will help us take action against the responsible parties.  Could you tell us how you first came to hear about the Werewolf fights?" Eleor was straight down to business, and Johann wet his lips, rubbed his face and sat up.

"November last year." He explained, as clearly as he could in his weary voice. He assumed this might come as of a surprise to the aurors. He didn't meet their eyes as he spoke. "Second of November, full moon. I had no idea it was a werewolf fight - more that it was an arranged duel. Some of my private clients regrettably associate with less honest wizarding folk." He tapped a long pale finger on the table between them, considering his words. "I discovered my father attended, Wolfgang Storm. He was in the country on business."

He briefly elaborated to them both as to his father's involvement with the Tetrawizard Tournament, working for the foreign bank, managing the Durmstrang accounts. It wasn't pertinent, but it was context to the situation.

"Have no idea why he was there, or how he came to know, but he was at the fight on the 2nd November. Daresay he enjoyed it, hates werewolves." He folded his arms, feeling a little cold in just a shirt, exhaustion clear in his body, while his mind whirred onwards. It was easier to skirt round the fact he'd attended on the 2nd. Had he realised what it was, he hoped he would have stayed away.

Zeke watched the verbatis quill write down everything that he would have liked to take note of himself. It a way, it sort of bothered him he wouldn't be able to read the interview in his own handwriting. Zeke listened to Johann intently as the wizard elaborated on his father's affairs in the country and the night of the incident in question. "Mr.-" Zeke corrected himself, "Johann, you said private clients, did you know any of the other, unfavorable characters at the fight, other than your father and Ms. Bombay?"

Zeke blinked a handful of times and wished his coffee would kick in already, he added quickly, "We know that your friend, Hannah Bombay, was the werewolf involved, we spoke to her yesterday. She seems to be doing well." Zeke concluded before letting Johann speak. Zeke was not unfamiliar with Ms. Bombay, having spoken to her on several occasions involving creature attacks at St. Mungos and she seemed like a young woman of exceptional skill in healing.

"How did your father end up in the ring exactly?"

---

omgomgomgomgomg I'm so sorry to keep you waiting guys!

"Johann, you said private clients, did you know any of the other, unfavourable characters at the fight, other than your father and Ms. Bombay?" Wingate asked, and Johann's eyes raised to the ceiling as he tried to think if he recognised anyone, but before he could reply, Wingate hastened to clarify:
"We know your friend, Hannah Bombay, was the werewolf involved, we spoke to her yesterday. She seems to be doing well."

Johann gaped at Zeke for a few seconds, his mind trying to put several things together at once, and finding it difficult due to fatigue, stress and anxiety.

"She was here? Hannah was here? Merlin, I'm.." the English word escaped him a moment, "relieved. I had to leave to bring my father to St Mungo's, and she was still transformed and…" he stopped himself, realising it wasn't actually answering Wingate's question and the verbatis quill was working overtime.

"I didn't really get a good look at anyone around us," He admitted, "My attention was really on my father and what was going on below me with the wolf- I mean - Hannah as a werewolf. It sounded like there were a lot of people there, twenty or more. I'm sorry, wish I could be more exact." He rubbed his temple with one of his long-fingered hands and frowned.

"How did your father end up in the ring exactly?"

"Lawrence Musgrave." Johann replied, wincing. He closed his eyes, his mind's eye playing out the moment. He opened his blue eyes again and looked from Zeke to Adon and back as he explained.

"My father was trying to get me to put a bet on. Musgrave overheard, intervened generally to ask him to stop hassling me. I didn't recognise him at first. I met him once, back in February I think? He's Hannah's uncle. She let him stay for a short time after he was released from Azkaban."

He lowered his eyes to the table between them.
"My father revealed that the wolf was Hannah. When Musgrave realised he meant his niece, he lost it. Went from mildly grumpy to full blow rage in a blink of an eye. Next thing there's bits of masonry everywhere, and my father's down on the floor. I got knocked off my feet by the force as I was stood next to him when it happened." He gestured with his hands, which were littered with minor cuts and grazed knuckles, enough to suggest he'd been scrabbling around.

"I didn't have chance to consider where were properly - it looked like a swimming pool?"

...November.  Now, government by and large was not known for its expeditiousness, but...  November..  Adon felt a cold shock run through him.  Since November--since the month his brother had been abducted, Adon had managed to attempt an investigation from London, transplanted himself to Jerusalem, where an investigation began in earnest.  It had lost its vigor since that time, but the key players had all been brought in for questioning, surveillance had been requested, several subpoenas served... There had been a lot of action in that time.  Enough for the investigation to reach maturity, then wane and--alas--ebb, with a sort of false resolution he knew too well.

And what had happened since November, here?

Either Johann Storm had demonstrated an inherent--even if unwitting--complicity in retaining this information for so long or, if that information had been communicated, something larger was at play.

Windgate did not seem nearly as winded as he was by this revelation--which did not bode well.  Adon had been scrambling to reacquaint himself with Level Two's cases since he'd left.  Perhaps he'd missed something that Zeke--Windgate--was aware of.

Or perhaps it was merely methodologies.  Windgate was already honing in to the more particulars of the case--critical to solving the issue at hand, but from Adon's perspective was no longer an isolated incident.  This amount of time--this issue was clearly systemic. 
He shifted uncomfortably, feeling a restlessness in his fingers that caused him to clench his fists.  Bring it back.  This was not personal.  He was projecting, he told himself.

Adon had long had a mistrust of investigative management--which predated his own involvement in the Auror Corps by at least a decade.  His father's murder case had been only cursorily examined before being callously dismissed.  And then, more recently, that damned Runespoor case.  Adon'd been brought into the British ministry as an external component to root out internal corruption.  It was this--this visceral reaction, and not a logical conclusion--Adon told himself, that made his fingers itch. 

Because, when it came down to it, Adon knew and trusted people like Windgate here--trusted himself.  It went beyond liking them.  He had placed his life in their hands and would again.  He had arrested Ministerial big-wigs--he remembered the look on Reid's face--but he had not been an Auror.  His faith in them was not gone yet.

"Forgive me--I think we need to take a moment here to establish a few contexts."  Adon was out of the loop, after all.  He would be no use in this interview without the advantage of level footing.

"I am to understand, Johann," he said, soft accent on the first name, "that you have known for the better part of a year about this activity."  He paused. How to phrase this.  Either accuse his witness of withholding, or imply Level Two mismanagement (and his own ignorance).  No winning.

Best not to antagonize.  As close to neutral as he could manage, he said, levelly: "Have you brought this to the attention of Level 2 before?"

Wingate didn't get to answer Johann's question about the swimming pool in Birmingham. Eleor, who had been silent, mulling over Johann's earlier responses, interjected.

"Forgive me--I think we need to take a moment here to establish a few contexts. I am to understand, Johann, that you have known for the better part of a year about this activity."

Across the table, Johann had become quite still, hands gripping his arms as he kept his arms folded, feeling cold.

"Have you brought this to the attention of Level 2 before?"

When he put it like that, it seemed horrific, and all the fears that had made him bolt on full moon, came roaring back. His breaths became a little more shallow and rapid as his anxiety increased.

"I did." Johann spoke eventually, and licked his lips, his throat feeling dry. "In May, with Auror Tyren[1]." He drew a breath, forcing air into his lungs to try and steady himself. Eleor was sharp, and with such little sleep and under so much stress he felt anything but.

"Apart from hearing about the November incident, I hadn't heard anything certain that they were reoccurring, but I saw patterns. The death of a werewolf[2] in early May. We spoke before the Dunnigan brothers turned up[3]."

Johann loosened one hand gripping his arms across his chest and gave an awkward shrug, lowering his gaze.
"She said she was on it, no need to come back to me. I thought I was seeing patterns where there weren't any. After all, I'm just a linguist."

He should have pushed the point with Rowan, pursued it with her harder. But he'd worried he would draw attention to where he was getting the information from, who he was associating with, people the Ministry wouldn't like. And on the other hand, those people would find reason to lead it back to him which he couldn't afford.

Johann raised his gaze back to Eleor, expression full of regret. It stung to have the fact laid out like that.

1.	May 17, I Fear the Full Moon Too, regrettably writer went inactive
2.	May 3, Unregistered Werewolf Found Dead
3.	May 26, Werewolf Brothers Found

The physiological change that swept over Storm was remarkable.  In those preliminary trainings Adon had received--Intro to Interogations, or some other impossibly boring title--he'd been taught to read those signals.  Even the direction of a person's eyes, the position of hands could mean something.

But you didn't need training to the this.  It was cold, clammy, palpable guilt.

Only Adon didn't think him as guilty as all that.  Nervous, yes.  Cowardly--well, maybe even that, too. 

Adon leaned forward.  "Ah, I'm glad," he said, acknowledging what little--and it was probably little--Johann had done already.  "I'll make it a point to catch Tyren up on the details. I'm sure she'd have looked into something, at least."  God, he hoped so.  It would reflect horribly on Level Two if they prematurely closed a case.  Finances aside...

Johann was referring to incidents Adon, in his haste, had not bothered to acquaint himself on.  He glanced over to Zeke, noting that he would need to fill him in on the missing brothers... the May werewolf death... He'd been spending all his time researching that whole Dementor debacle...

"Not just a linguist, from what I've heard," Adon said with a ghost of a smile, attempting to soothe.  "My brother valued your opinion, at any rate.  And we are grateful you've been willing to meet with us now.  We'd suspected--but didn't know--of Lawrence's involvement."  He'd have to give Andromeda Gamp some serious credit for those instincts later.  Yes--Lawrence Musgrave--that was a whole line of questioning in and of itself.

There were many questions Adon wanted to ask.  Had he been invited to these werewolf fights before from clients or--more notably, his father? What was the nature of the relationship between father and son?  Was he a diligent son?  It did not seem likely, for Johann was a clever man, and he had to be at least marginally aware that this statement being taken down just now would serve as a condemnation on some level to his father.  It would have taken a great deal--a strong moral objection--to speak out against his father, unless things were not so amicable between the pair.  Then this would be one way to get back at a spiteful and unkind father, and would not take overly much in terms of moral fibre to do so.  Adon mulled this over in his head--considering Johann's own motivations a moment.

"Now," he said in a firm tone, indicating that they were transitioning to the next item of business. "Your father knew the identity of the werewolf.  You also said that he hated werewolves.  What was the underlying cause for that, do you think?"

The fact that Wolfgang Storm had known the identity of the werewolf when Lawrence Musgrave--someone who at least one person on Level Two strong suspected to be involved--implied at the very least an association with one of the operators of the ring, and access to insider information that exceeded a spectator's knowledge.  Hannah--for all intents and purposes, and to all spectators that night--was not Hannah Bombay; just a wolf contender.  It would have taken someone who was there before--before the change and before the match--to know the identity of the human being attached to the lycan form. 

Wolfgang Storm had also known about these fights for at least 8 months.  Had come to see them on business trips.  There were too many questions.  Had the werewolf fights predated Wolfgang's business trips?  Did his trips into the country coincide with full moons? He would need to get support staff on this. 

"I'll make it a point to catch Tyren up on the details…" Eleor agreed. It was too late now to say much more on that. Tyren's word was worth more than his own. She would have her own reasons for not following it up, or following it up so far. Possibly Johann's cryptic way of explaining things to her hadn't helped at all. He'd been far too nervous to spell it out.

"Not just a linguist, from what I've heard. My brother valued your opinion, at any rate.  And we are grateful you've been willing to meet with us now…" The kind words did nothing to ease Johann's mind over this, but later he would reflect and consider Adon's words, and recall Dree, another missing face amongst them.

"Now, your father knew the identity of the werewolf.  You also said that he hated werewolves.  What was the underlying cause for that, do you think?"

Eleor had taken over leading the questioning, and Johann watched the auror with tired eyes.

"He did." Johann agreed, in confirmation of the observation. "And he does." He forced his arms away from him, resting them on the table before him again, left hand fingers taking the thumb of his right hand.

"Why did he hate werewolves?" He puffed out his cheeks and tried to think, "I can't think of time he has even spoken favourably of them, but he hates most things that aren't straightforward and natural." He contemplated a moment. "He thinks werewolves are unnatural, half beings - dogs. They are to be treated like dogs." He inhaled and raised his eyes to the ceiling a moment as he thought back.

"A year ago he thought Hannah Bombay was my girlfriend. Crossed lines of communication through the family. He was quite excited for me, as a healer, a young, pretty - beautiful woman, he was anxious to meet her. But when she was brought before the wizengamot with Knox Greyfriar for transforming at the full moon outside of the safehouses," he clicked his fingers. "Everything changed. I wasn't to go near her."

Her put his hands to his face and rubbed at his eyes with his fingertips, blinking away the exhaustion before carrying on.
"So naturally, I went to Christmas dinner with the Bombay family, and proposed to her. When he found out…" Johann shook his head. "… the vitriol. Good Merlin. I'm not sure I could have committed worse atrocities against the family." He shook his head and glanced to Zeke, wondering if he would agree Hannah was a pretty woman - or perhaps had been until the recent stresses.

"I believe he chose Hannah to seek revenge on her for what he perceives she did to me." 

Well. vThere was something awful and amusing in this tale.  In dramas, tragedies, and comedies, families all functioned the same: a series of moves and countermoves--usually to frustrate one another.   The image of a hasty and insincere, festive engagement for sheer shock value did not escape the Auror's sense of humor.  "I see," he said, showing a subtle smile--responding as he would more to a drinking companion than a witness.  "Well, you can't say you didn't get him anything nice for Christmas, then."  The gift of family scandal--and an attractive in-law was not wholly unpromising.  He was personally quite fond of Hannah from his last tenure upon Level Two. 

"I can understand the complicated emotions behind this, though." Who couldn't? Who didn't have a family that was predominantly and acutely insane?  Adon's immediate family had been deemed so morally and logically derelict, the Grimm family had disowned them altogether.  The Grimms--who had at a bare minimum: an amateur necromancer, a vampire hunter with dementia, and the whole of the Bagnold family in their ranks.  But Adon's thoughts shifted quite dramatically from passive-aggressive family dinners to a case breakthrough in an instant.

There was one word in there--a significant word: chose.

Moloch, this man's ability to state truly alarming things in a smooth, even tone was mind-boggling.  He had such a refined deadpan, he could school the Brits on ironic understatement.  Betraying his surprise that, apparently, Johann yet again knew that his father not only attended these fights but, in fact, selected werewolves for them... well, that might cause Johann to wither up again, and he did not want that.  Not when he was still trying to figure out what else this goddamn-- this...

Adon took a deep breath through his nose, releasing it with his first words, "So, in your opinion, that is why Lawrence launched him into the fighting arena."  He nodded along, looking at Johann's expression for a confirmation.  To be quite clear, he added, "Because your father chose Hannah for the fight that night."  Brisking past this important point, he asked, "It might not have been so difficult an undertaking then, to find her.  Due to her prominence in your life--do you think your father would have known her address, then?  Where she lived--any other habitual haunts...?" Again, searching Johann's face. 

"So, in your opinion, that is why Lawrence launched him into the fighting arena."

"Yes." Johann replied quietly and gave a nod of confirmation.

"Because your father chose Hannah for the fight that night. It might not have been so difficult an undertaking then, to find her.  Due to her prominence in your life--do you think your father would have known her address, then?  Where she lived--any other habitual haunts…?"

"I…" Johann's gaze shifted to stare to his left, trying to think how it might have happened. "I don't recall ever disclosing her address, no, but he knew she is a healer at St Mungo's, and my mother has visited Hannah's home with me once, back in January." He frowned, "Hannah's not the most sociable, I don't think I've seen her at all this month." He thought back. "We had a drink last month[1], catching up, and I was avoiding spending time with my parents."

He exhaled and rolled his shoulders, looking from Adon to Zeke with a furrowed brow, feeling frustration grow as he considered more about why Hannah was there, and how gleeful his father had been to tell him.

"I don't know if he arranged it, or if it was chance, but put it this way, if there was any possibility of arranging it, my father has a strong motive, and he definitely wanted me to see it. He'd just keep his own hands clean." Johann shook his head, fists clenching as he spoke.

"I had only gone to meet him for a drink. Not to be side apparated into that. I'm glad Musgrave cursed him, but I never ever would want to wish a werewolf bite on another, or the temptation to bite on a werewolf who has no control in their transformation." He closed his eyes and shook his head, opening them again a second later to continue, looking to each auror across the table in turn, tone insistent:

"Hannah Bombay is a dear friend, and however depraved my father's reasoning, I would never willingly let her attack him, but I couldn't stop her - it. None of this is her fault. Please tell me you know this?" The exhaustion wasn't helping him keep his emotions in control at all, however light Eleor kept his tone and joked about Christmas presents for his family a moment before.

"Sorry." He spoke suddenly, retreating into himself, sitting back again and wincing, a hand raking through his hair. "I'm exhausted. Don't let me rant."

1.	Jun 14, Rob the Bank

But his rants were so particularly helpful.  Adon smiled, however and gave a quiet "Agreed" to his last request.  Johann would be of key importance, he felt, to the investigation.  If not in this specific interview, than in the future, due to his close affiliation to both suspect and victim.  Though, in light of the particular predicament, the role terminologies for Hannah and Wolfgang seemed almost interchangeable at times.

Mind-bogglingly cyclical.

But, however cyclical, Adon had taken the time to read up on the particular British laws pertaining to the situation.  "The legal grounds on werewolf indictments do take into account that the fact that werewolves do not have full control of their actions when transformed.  The form of corrective action rests heavily upon whether the werewolf took responsible action prior to transformation to safeguard the public.  In light of the particular circumstances, we will certainly also keep in mind that Hannah Bombay could not have taken responsible action to secure herself during the full moon.  By extension, the kidnapper--who prevented any precautions--is responsible for the attack."  Which, in a truly ironic way, meant that Wolfgang--and any others involved--had done this to himself.

If Wolfgang Storm and Lawrence Musgrave had both been involved--and the right hand did not know what the left hand did--then it seemed to indicate that there was a head over them both.  Someone above Wolfgang Storm, who at the very least, had conspired to abduct Hannah Bombay--and likely others.

"You have been a great deal of help, Johann, in this matter.  We will let you go soon--I can only imagine how exhausting this has been for you.  But there's a couple more questions, if you could."

Adon wet his lips as he considered which one to start with.

"To my recollection, your father still spends significant time here, due to business.  Would you be able to provide us with a list of known associates?  People he might meet with for lunch, family friends, business connections..."

"You have been a great deal of help, Johann, in this matter.  We will let you go soon--"

If anything, the possibility that he might be released was all the more disconcerting than the questions. He hadn't thought that far forwards, as to where he might go. He was too run down now to make an adequate escape from the country. At this late hour, he would prefer to sleep under his own desk in the Ministry[1].

"To my recollection, your father still spends significant time here, due to business.  Would you be able to provide us with a list of known associates?  People he might meet with for lunch, family friends, business connections…" Adon seemed to have saved a very time consuming question for the end. Johann stared across the table at him, mind whirring a little more slowly than usual and tried to think how to answer that. 

"It's more than significant time here," he began wearily. "My parents live in a horrible little bedsit in Knockturn Alley. They lost their jobs and their home in Germany and turned up on my cousin's doorstep in Godric's Hollow while he celebrated the end of the Hogwarts summer term. Money's short, I don't have a place to live either - I'd only been looking after Ignan's place while he was teaching." He paused, glanced between them to check they knew who he was referring to. There was so much context to it all, he could talk to the aurors for a week and probably still not cover everything.

"As for known associates, parchment, quill, tea and leave it with me for an hour or two and I'll see what I can do." He paused, blue eyes glancing from one auror to the other, worried, "I'd prefer to be here and be useful than anywhere else at the moment." 

1.	(As it happens, he doesn't leave until the following afternoon, Jul 30, Staring Over the Ledge

"Of course," Adon said, giving a sympathetic smile at the frazzled translator.  He was an informant, after all.  Not a suspect.  While certainly not blameless--he had kept pretty well quiet as long as he could--he was speaking now, and they needed that.

Besides.  He was a friend of--or at the very least--a colleague of Dree's.

"Well, if you'd prefer to be here and of assistance, I will not complain.  You will have to do with parchment, quill, coffee, and my company, I'm afraid. I will be here the better part of this evening on research.  Maybe if you would, you can help me with context and the odd question or two."  After a pause, he added, "I could probably find tea somewhere, if you must."  Neither of those were the drink Adon really felt he needed.  But he was at work.  And Johann was not a friend.  He was a witness and informant.

But as it was, Adon could well imagine what conflict Johann might feel.  Adon himself had been young at the time, but even he remembered, at the age of 13, being brought in to Jerusalem, answering questions about his father after his disappearance, and trying to be honest while still trying to convince the Aurors that he was not the criminal they seemed to think he was...

Adon took a brisk breath before kicking his legs up and rising.  "Well, if that is agreeable to you, I do not see the need to stay in here.  I have a spare seat at my desk. And coffee maker."