Following Turn to the Moon.

He was tired. Oh, so tired. The night had turned into some kind of nightmare, and all Omari wanted was to go home and go to sleep. Waking up, many hours previously, to the infection in his leg returning and causing unbearable pain, he had (hesitantly) gone to St. Mungo’s, hoping for a quick examination and a potion. Instead he had ended up being admitted for the night - one of the things he always dreaded the most.

Unfortunately the bad events of the night had not stopped there. After a few hours of uneasy sleep he had been woken by running and shouting, and he had followed the medi-wizards, only to find one of his closest friends covered in blood, rambling on about werewolf attacks. Johann was the last person Omari would’ve thought would get involved with that.

Then his friend had done a runner.

So, here he was. Sleep-deprived, shaken and one-legged, walking through an almost empty atrium. The place was usually buzzing with activity, but Omari was happy that he was quiet. Not many of his co-workers had seen him without his leg, and he was glad they wouldn’t be there to see him. He looked horrible and the bags under his eyes were huge.

He took the elevator up to Level Two - his second home. As he walked out the receptions gave a small squeal and ran up to him, asking him what had happened. Omari couldn’t remember if he ever had been at Level Two without his Auror robes. With an exhausted sigh he looked up at her.

“I need to report something.”